"Look at the stickman I made, Alan! Look! Look!" DJ's toothy grin shone as he almost slapped the crumpled paper onto the other boy's face. Alan attempted to focus on the drawn stickman, but ended up crossing his eyes, prompting him to push DJ's hand away to view it properly. "That looks so boring," Alan murmured with a slight pout, crossing his arms in disappointment.

DJ gasped dramatically. "You can't say that! I drew this stickman with love and care!" DJ protested with a slap on his knee, causing the paper to fly towards Alan's face and knock his thick glasses off. "Ow!" Alan yelped, clutching his nose in surprise.

In a fluster, DJ retrieved the square frames from Alan's lap. "Oh no! I'm so sorry!" DJ's voice quivered with panic as he attempted to return Alan's glasses. "It's alright, it doesn't actually hurt. I only said that because I was startled," Alan reassured meekly, his cheeks flushing crimson. DJ's expression brightened. "I was really worried; I thought I had broken your nose!" DJ's tone carried a hint of remorse as he handed the glasses back to Alan.

"A piece of paper can't break my nose, that's just nonsense," Alan remarked, fixing his glasses back onto his nose and shooting DJ a look that suggested he thought the other boy was being rather dumb.

DJ slumped dejectedly upon hearing Alan's comment. "You're so mean," DJ remarked, retrieving the paper from the floor and examining the drawing once more. "But hey, it's okay. I've got myself a new friend!" DJ declared cheerfully as he admired the simple stickman. Beside him, Alan pouted.

"I'm your friend! Not that silly stickman," Alan protested, snatching the paper from DJ's hands to inspect it closely. To Alan's dismay, it appeared to be nothing more than a basic stick figure—just a circle with some squiggly lines. He shot a disapproving glare at DJ. "I could draw something much better than a mere stick figure," Alan muttered before handing the paper back to DJ.

"It's not just any stick figure; it can also be your friend. I haven't named him yet," DJ retorted with a grin, prompting Alan to roll his eyes. At this rate, DJ half expected Alan's eyeballs to roll right out of their sockets given the number of times he had rolled them. "Besides, you can barely draw wings," DJ teased, earning a sharp glare from Alan in return.

"I'm still working on it. My art teacher actually said I was doing great," Alan replied, nervously biting his lip as he leaned in, propping his cheek heavily on his palm. "Maybe she's just not teaching you that well," DJ chimed in with a casual shrug, grabbing his backpack from the floor and carelessly tucking the paper inside, unconcerned that it might end up crumpled amidst his other school books.

Alan simply hummed, showing little interest in DJ's comments. DJ, feeling a bit put out, crossed his arms and pouted. "How about creating your own stickman? You're into animation, right? Why not try making those animations on Newgrounds where stick figures battle and such? Didn't you mention stick figures are easy to create?" DJ suggested with a mischievous smile, prompting a quizzical look from Alan.

With a raised eyebrow and a slight quirk of his mouth, Alan appeared intrigued by the proposal. "Hmm, I mean..." Alan trailed off, contemplating the idea with a thoughtful hum. "Will you give it a shot?" DJ inquired eagerly. Alan was exceptionally skilled at animation, yet he had a particular struggle with creating wings.

Making wings is hard, okay!

"It's not like stick figures can be that difficult," Alan muttered under his breath, feeling slightly irked that DJ doubted his abilities. "Think about it! Come on, Alan, I'll even pay youuu," DJ persisted, seizing Alan's arm and giving it an enthusiastic shake. Alan chuckled at the offer, looking at DJ with a playful yet skeptical expression, his eyes narrowing.

"You don't even have any money," Alan teased, provoking an annoyed huff from DJ. "Yeah, yeah, just because a bunch of random strangers online commission you doesn't mean you can show off in front of me," DJ retorted dramatically, placing a hand on his forehead and leaning on Alan's shoulder for effect.

Alan couldn't help but laugh and playfully pushed DJ away. "I'm not showing off anything!" Alan exclaimed with a hearty laugh. "Alright, I'll consider it. How about we do it later at my place?" Alan suggested with a smile. DJ gasped dramatically, clutching his chest.

"You're inviting me? The Amazing Alan Becker inviting little old me?" DJ melodramatically exclaimed, prompting a glare from Alan before he rolled his eyes and lightly punched DJ's shoulder. "Cut it out, you goof," Alan said with a chuckle.

Alan hummed thoughtfully as he retrieved his pen and placed it on the table beside him, while DJ settled on his bed, engrossed in his own drawing and humming a tune. "I'm all set here," Alan announced, swiveling his chair towards DJ's direction.

DJ perked up, abandoning the bed and moving closer to Alan, casually resting his arm on the back of Alan's chair. "Alright, let's kick off your stick figure fighting idea, shall we?" Alan suggested, opening Flash with a click of his mouse. DJ nodded eagerly, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

"So, what specific sequence are we going for?" Alan inquired, sketching a black stick figure before adding it as a symbol. Pausing for a moment, he glanced at DJ who was deep in thought, his tongue poking out from between his lips. Amused, Alan decided on the name 'victim' for the stick figure, knowing that the name wouldn't have much significance in the end. His main focus was to convert the stick figure's head into a symbol to ensure consistency in size throughout the animation.

Alan shrugged nonchalantly before pressing the enter button, "Aha! How about the stick figure fighting its creator?" DJ proposed with a wide grin, to which Alan turned to him, one eyebrow arched.

"That's not exactly original," Alan remarked with a smirk, prompting DJ to pout and playfully glare at him. "I've seen plenty of animations like that, you know, the Animator vs. Animation type," Alan added, tapping his pen against his chin in contemplation.

"Well, yeah, but it's simpler with a stick figure, right?" DJ pointed out with a smile. Alan shrugged in agreement and refocused on his screen. "True, it does make things easier," Alan thought to himself before a sudden knock at the door interrupted their brainstorming. "Boys! Dinner time! DJ, come join us for dinner," Alan's mother's voice called out with a smile.

DJ's eyes lit up at the mention of food, and he eagerly tugged at Alan's arm. "Let's go! I'm starving," DJ exclaimed excitedly, causing Alan to let out a resigned sigh and place his pen back on the table.

"Alright," Alan replied wearily, rising from his seat and allowing himself to be whisked away by his enthusiastic friend. With a loud bang, the door slammed shut behind them, temporarily halting their animation project in favor of a well-deserved meal.

Unbeknownst to Alan, the black stick figure twitched and began to survey his environment. Where was he? He pondered, his confusion evident in his gaze. What strange place was this? With a growing interest, he tentatively moved about, his legs unsteady from lack of practice. Having just come into existence, he was still adjusting to this new form of mobility.

"Where..." he began to speak, startled by the sound that emanated from him. He reached up to touch his face, bewildered by the source of the noise. Did it really come from him? The black stick wondered, patting his face in disbelief before cautiously testing his vocal abilities once more. "Hello," he addressed the empty space, his astonishment palpable as he heard himself speak aloud.

Excitement bubbled within him at this newfound ability. "Amazing!" he exclaimed silently, glancing around to discover rows of unfamiliar objects. What were these things? he mused, making his way towards the array at the side.

Were these tools? Had they played a role in his creation? His mind raced with curiosity and wonder. "Incredible," he breathed, his face reflecting a mix of awe and fascination.

"I have to head home now; my mom's waiting. Let's pick up the animation tomorrow after school, sound good?" DJ said with a pout, his mother standing by his side after personally coming to Alan's house to fetch him. "Sure thing. See you later, Miss Welch, bye DJ," Alan replied with a smile, waving as he watched DJ being led towards their car by his mother before the door closed.

"Alan, can you lend a hand with the dishes quickly?" Alan's mother called out. "On it," Alan replied, hurrying to the kitchen to find his mother precariously balancing six plates in one hand and two bowls in the other. "Mom, you're going to drop those plates!" Alan exclaimed, swiftly taking the plates from her and loading them into the dishwasher.

"You know me, got to finish this. I still need to clock in for work," his mother muttered with a weary smile as Alan helped her with the dishes.

Alan's expression fell, his gaze downcast, hoping to shield his emotions from his mother. "Mom, why don't you take a break? I can handle this on my own," he suggested, reaching for the bowls in her hand. She shifted slightly, keeping the bowls just out of his reach, a small frown creasing her brow. "Alan, I've got this. Don't you still have homework to do?" she gently reminded him, a warm smile on her face. Alan's frown deepened, and he nervously tugged on the sleeve of his hoodie.

"I can do it later," Alan murmured, but his mother simply hummed and proceeded to place the bowls in the dishwasher, her smile unwavering. "Alan, this is my responsibility, okay? You don't need to work so hard around here. What I want from you is to focus on your studies," his mother, Jennifer, said with a smile, raising her fists in a playful gesture. Alan could only manage a nod, a pang of guilt twisting in his stomach. "I still want to help you, though," he added, scratching his cheek awkwardly.

Why did his mother have to be so brave at moments like this, Alan pondered with a wince. He was still young; wouldn't it be better for him to start working now to assist his mother? That's why he began to take commissions from various people with his art and animation skills.

Alan sighed as he rested against the kitchen counter. Despite sacrificing his sleep to complete these commissions, the hundreds and thousands of dollars he was earning made it seem worthwhile.

It helps us pay the bills. Alan thought with a furrowed brow. "Alan, why don't you go up to your room now and do your work? I'll wrap things up here, and by 10, I'll be off to my night shift. How does that sound?" Jennifer suggested with a gentle smile.

Alan hesitated before nodding, pushing himself up and making his way towards the stairs leading to his room. Glancing back, he saw his mother wearily leaning on the counter, her eyes closed. Alan bit his tongue, then hurried up the stairs, his steps faltering.

Alan sighed heavily as he pushed open the door to his room, the soft click of it shutting behind him like a punctuation mark on a difficult day. His hand clenched and unclenched at his side before he made his way to the bed, sinking down onto its familiar comfort. The sheets bunched under his grip as he let out a slow, steadying breath. In, out. In, out.

"No use panicking," he reminded himself silently, willing the anxiety to ebb away. His mother's situation weighed heavily on his mind, a constant reminder of the responsibilities that rested on his shoulders. More commissions, he thought, that was the way forward. It didn't matter if his mother didn't approve; he would find a way to make it work.

Fingers absently toying with the edge of his hoodie, he contemplated the looming exams set for the next week. He had put his commissions on hold, hoping to focus on his studies, but it seemed like fate had other plans. The familiar nervous bite of his lip returned as he pondered on what he should do next, only to be interrupted by a sudden, unexpected sound coming from his computer.

His eyes drifted towards the screen, a furrow forming on his brow in confusion. "What?" Alan pondered as he observed the stick figure he had drawn moving around the program. Had he... animated it already? Alan wondered as he rose from his bed and approached his desk.

His steps were heavy, his mind a whirlwind of perplexity. "What the heck?" Alan exclaimed as he watched the black stick figure pull tools from the side and begin playing with them like a curious child.

Pausing for a moment, Alan sank back into his seat, utterly bewildered. "What on earth is happening?" he mused as his hands hesitated near the mouse. Meanwhile, the black stick figure started climbing the side of the program.

"Uh," Alan muttered as he reached for his mouse, bringing the cursor closer to the stick figure. The black figure jumped in fright, its gaze fixed on the cursor.

"Huh? Can it... see the cursor?" Alan questioned, perplexed, as he observed the black stick figure tapping the cursor, tilting its head in confusion before tentatively attempting to jump on it. Alan chuckled softly as he witnessed the stick figure carefully perch on the cursor. "Amazing," Alan remarked, slowly lowering his cursor back to the ground.

"There," Alan declared with a satisfied smile. This experience reminded him of those games on his phone where you had to take care of virtual creatures by bathing or feeding them.

A laugh escaped Alan as he watched the black stick figure pat the cursor before resuming its exploration. "How can I communicate with you?" Alan pondered aloud, releasing his mouse to simply observe the stick figure wandering and interacting with the tools.

A smile crept across Alan's face, a sense of ease washing over him. This unexpected encounter was a pleasant surprise; nothing quite like it had ever happened to him before.

He had animated numerous things before, yet none had ever begun moving on their own accord; this was an unprecedented occurrence for Alan. Was it because he had drawn a stick figure? Alan mused, his sense of awe deepening as he refocused on the black stick figure meandering through the program. Suddenly, it dashed back to his cursor, eagerly tugging at it and gesturing towards the top bar.

"Oh?" Alan murmured, seizing his mouse once more and allowing the black stick figure to hitch a ride on the cursor. Carefully, he guided the cursor towards the top bar, observing as the black stick figure gingerly stepped out and once again patted the cursor. "Aw," Alan expressed with a chuckle, a sense of excitement bubbling within him.

However, in an instant, everything went dark. The screen went black, and the lights in his room closed. "Huh?" Alan exclaimed, rising hastily from his seat, scanning the darkness before turning back to his computer. "Oh no, I... I didn't save it," Alan lamented, horror etched across his face as he brought a hand up to his mouth in disbelief.

"Alan?" Jennifer rapped on the door, shining a light into his darkened room. Alan turned to her, his movements unsteady. "Yeah?" he responded as he approached his mother, a stronger twist of guilt gnawing in his stomach. Jennifer offered him a weary smile, her eyes tinged with sadness. "It seems like I wasn't able to pay our electricity bills on time. Is it okay with you if we use flashlights for now?" Jennifer explained, handing Alan another flashlight.

Alan nodded nervously. "Yeah, yeah, it's fine," he stuttered as he accepted the light from his mother's outstretched hand. "Good, good. I have to head to work now. Do you think you can manage here alone? I can always call DJ's mom so you can have your sleepover," Jennifer suggested cheerfully, eliciting a half-hearted smile from Alan.

"No, it's okay, Mom. I can handle it," Alan reassured her. Jennifer's smile faltered briefly before returning. "Alright, Alan. See you tomorrow, okay? Remember to sleep early, got it?" Jennifer reminded him. "Okay, I got it. Bye, Mom," Alan replied, reaching out to kiss her cheek and embrace her tightly.

"Oh," Jennifer remarked, patting his back with a laugh. "Love you," Alan whispered as she ruffled his hair. "Love you too. Now, go to bed," Jennifer instructed. Alan nodded as he watched his mother close the door behind her.

He turned back to his computer, only to freeze in realization - he hadn't saved the black stick, had he? Alan's thoughts raced before he turned to his bed and collapsed onto it. Waves of disappointment washed over him as he reflected on how he had seemingly messed up this new connection.

"Just when I found another friend. I go and mess it up," Alan thought to himself as he removed his glasses and sniffled, questioning why he was even shedding tears. They hadn't known each other for long...

Alan buried his head, face-first, into the pillow. If only he had continued his commission for just another week, perhaps they could have covered the electricity bills. Then he would have saved the file. Alan pondered this as he wiped away the tears from his eyes

-O-

Alan mustered a smile as Jennifer set a small cake in front of him, bearing the words 'Happy 11th Birthday Alan! I love you!' "Mom, you didn't have to do this... This is a waste of money," Alan expressed with a strained smile, facing his mother who gazed at him with a tired yet affectionate expression. "Oh, hush. I wanted to get this for you. I'm sorry we couldn't go out as you wanted," Jennifer replied, her smile faltering slightly.

Alan shook his head, letting out a sigh before forcing another smile and focusing on the candle. "Make a wish now, wish for something that you want for yourself," Jennifer urged eagerly. "Okay," Alan responded with a timid grin, closing his eyes. However, his mind drew a blank; he had no immediate wish to make. Opening his eyes, he smiled before blowing out the candles.

"Did you make a wish?" Jennifer inquired with a chuckle. Alan nodded, "Yes, I did."

"Don't tell me your wish or it won't happen!" Jennifer sang, clapping her hands excitedly. Alan giggled and nodded in agreement. "Here, let me cut your cake for you," Jennifer offered, lifting the knife to slice a piece for Alan and placing it in front of him. "Come on, dig in," she encouraged, cutting herself a slice as well. Alan smiled as he took a bite of his cake, reacting to its sweetness before beaming at his mother.

"How was it?" Jennifer inquired with a grin as she took a bite of her own slice. "I love it," Alan replied, taking another bite. "That's good. We can watch a movie tonight if you want. We could do a Star Wars movie marathon!" Jennifer suggested enthusiastically. Alan chuckled and nodded.

"I would like that," he said with a shy smile, relishing the rare opportunity for them to spend time together. With Alan's school schedule and Jennifer's work hours, moments like these were precious and cherished.

By the time they finished their cake, Jennifer had hurried off to prepare the living room for a movie marathon. "Ta da!" Jennifer exclaimed with a smile as she unveiled their sofa, adorned with pillows, stuffed toys, and blankets. "Wow," Alan exclaimed with a grin before leaping onto the couch and embracing the turtle stuffed animal to his chest. Jennifer beamed and picked up the remote from the coffee table. "I'm glad you like it," she said with a chuckle, observing Alan hug each of the stuffed toys on the sofa.

"Yes, I do. This is so cool," Alan remarked with a wide smile, embracing another turtle before placing a stuffed pig by his side. By the time Jennifer managed to start the movie, Alan had surrounded himself with an array of stuffed toys.

"Oh my!" Jennifer exclaimed before bursting into laughter, seeing her son buried amidst pillows and toys. "What? It's so comfy," Alan defended with a grin before settling back and making himself cozy. They managed to watch at least two Star Wars movies before Jennifer dozed off, prompting Alan to turn off the TV and wake her so she could retire to her bed for the night.

Alan, exhausted from cleaning the living room, trudged back to his room with a heavy sigh. Collapsing onto his bed, he blinked, then refocused on his computer. The pending commissions weighed on his mind; he knew he had to start them. Despite his heavy body and drooping eyelids, the commissions were a priority.

Summoning his strength back to his legs, Alan rose wearily, made his way to his desk, and sank into his chair. With a deep breath, he powered up his computer. As the screen flickered to life, he winced at the sudden brightness, muttering "Ugh." Quickly, he turned on his desk lamp to provide a softer, more comfortable light for his tired eyes to adjust to the screen's glow.

Alan connected his drawing tablet to his PC and launched the drawing program. After a moment of staring at the blank canvas, he sighed deeply, gripping the pen tightly in his hand. Exhaustion weighed heavily on him. Oh, I'm so tired. Alan thought as he rested his head on his arms, longing for immediate sleep. Raising his head once more, he absentmindedly sketched out another black stick figure.

His heart panged with memories of his old friend, or what could have been a friend if fate hadn't intervened that day. Alan groaned in frustration before turning the figure into a symbol. His hands hesitated over the keyboard as he typed 'victim,' questioning if this would bring his friend back. After a moment's contemplation, he erased the name and replaced it with 'killer,' only to chuckle at the awkwardness and delete it again.

Perhaps giving his friend a new name would be a good idea, even if it might not change anything. At least it wouldn't be 'victim' anymore. Alan tapped his chin, pondering a suitable name. Naming wasn't his forte, but he was determined to find a fitting and cool name for his friend.

Alan typed out 'BEAST'. "Oh, that's worse than the last one," he groaned, disappointment evident on his face as he covered his face with his palm.

"How about... 'The Chosen One'?" Alan suggested with a tired grin before typing the name once more. "There," he said with a smile, finalizing the choice. As he entered the symbol, he gazed intently at the black stick figure, hoping for a response similar to what had happened with 'victim.'

To his surprise, the figure did move this time. "Yes! You're bac... uhh," Alan's words trailed off as the black stick figure suddenly unleashed a blast towards his cursor. Startled, Alan swiftly maneuvered his mouse to evade the blast of fire.

Alan exclaimed in shock, "What the heck!" as the black stick figure broke the tab, grabbed it, and lunged towards his cursor, slamming it down. "Hold on-" Alan panicked, clicking on the axe icon in a desperate attempt to scare the aggressive stick figure. However, instead of deterring it, the action seemed to excite the figure, evident as it proceeded to laser half of the program, leaving Alan flinching in disbelief.

"How... how?" Alan murmured, astonished by the figure's unexpected capabilities. Abruptly, the black stick figure breached the program, leaping out onto his desktop. "Wait, you can do that?" Alan questioned aloud as he closed the program, observing as the figure began rummaging through the recycle bin.

"Uhm," Alan awkwardly interjected, dragging it away and causing the figure to tumble face-first. "If only you could hear me, you need to stop," Alan whispered, his expression morphing into a frown. He proceeded to restore the trashed files back into the recycle bin

Alan gasped in dismay as the black stick figure tore his carefully crafted songlist file to shreds. "What the! That took a long time to make!" Alan whined, slapping a hand to his forehead. Another gasp escaped him as the figure then proceeded to burn his essay. "Not the essay!" Alan panicked, watching in horror as the flames consumed his work.

His distress escalated as Mozilla Firefox seemed to react to the chaos, twitching and directing a blast of fire towards the black stick figure, inadvertently setting ablaze the Data app. "How the heck am I gonna get that back!" Alan fretted, his thoughts racing frantically. Should he force close his PC? The idea crossed his mind in a moment of panic.

However, his decision was momentarily halted as he witnessed Firefox and the black stick figure engaged in a skirmish at the side. "Oh man, guys, stop that," Alan pleaded, observing the chaotic battle unfold. The black stick figure kicked Firefox towards the recycle bin, eliciting a groan from Alan.

Suddenly, the recycle bin shattered, and there, emerged Firefox, seething with anger before being iced by the black stick figure. "Well, shit," Alan cursed under his breath, praying that his mother hadn't been roused by his expletive.

In the end, Alan managed to tie the black stick with a weighted ball, transforming it into an ad blocker of sorts. He tried to communicate with it by hovering his cursor nearby, reminiscent of his past interactions with victim's (he hoped the black stick would react like how victim did...).

However, in a moment of inadvertence, he inadvertently set the stick figure free (or rather, the black stick figure manipulated his cursor to free itself), unleashing a fresh wave of chaos and destruction upon Alan's precious PC. Panic seized Alan; this computer was his lifeline to financial stability, and the thought of losing it was unbearable.

Driven by panic Alan made a new stick figure named "The Dark Lord" (regardless of the cringe-worthy name) with one purpose in mind: to stop "The Chosen One" (which didn't work because suddenly they became friends, how? Alan just looked away for a second!)

By the end, Alan found himself staring at his screen in dismay. "Oh, damn," he muttered as he thumped his head on the table. His own creations had triggered a Blue Screen of Death. And worse, the morning sun was already filtering through his blinds. Alan let out a sigh. "Well, there goes my chance to make new friends and enjoy my birthday, and a good proper sleep," he murmured before slumping his head on the table once more.

"Alan! It's time for school!" Jennifer's voice rang out, causing Alan to groan. How was he going to work on his commissions now? Alan thought, frustration evident as he tugged at his hair. All he had wanted was to bring back victim, and now this mess! With a heavy heart, Alan gazed at the dead screen of his computer before finally shutting down his PC. What was he going to tell his mother? They couldn't afford to get a new one anytime soon. Alan groaned once again.

"Alan! Come on, honey, wake up!" Jennifer's knock on the door prompted Alan to jump to his feet, ignoring his dizziness as he rushed to the door and forced a smile. Pretending to yawn, he greeted his mother, "Good morning, Mum," trying to appear as if he had just woken up.

"Good morning, my baby. Come on, breakfast is ready," Jennifer said with a sweet smile. Alan managed a forced smile and nodded in response.

-O-

"Alan, you're such a kind boy, mowing everyone's lawn and taking care of everything for them," the old lady remarked with a chuckle, seated in her rocking chair on the porch, watching as the boy worked on her lawn. Alan responded with a shy chuckle and a nod.

"Well, I should pay you handsomely for this. My lawn has been like a jungle for years. If you hadn't come, I wouldn't even know how to step out of the house!" The old lady exclaimed, letting out a hearty laugh and gently petting the cat resting on her lap.

Alan managed a small chuckle in response and refocused on his task, his back already aching from the constant bending needed to push the ancient lawn mower.

The equipment was old and required him to get his hands dirty just to keep it running. The handle was broken, so Alan had to awkwardly grip the remaining piece at the side to operate it.

As Alan worked on cutting down the remaining grass in the lawn, the thought of saving up for a new monitor kept him going. He groaned and let out a sigh, wiping the sweat from his brow before straightening up completely. Stretching his arm over his head, he heard a loud pop from his shoulder.

"Are you finished already?" the old lady asked with a smile. Alan nodded meekly and approached her porch, his hand nervously fiddling with the strings of his hoodie.

"My poor boy, you must be exhausted, aren't you? Here, take this $50. Use some of it for your food, how about that?" the old lady offered as she handed a bill to Alan. Pausing for a moment, Alan noticed that the bill was actually a $100 bill instead of $50. "Um," he stammered, watching as the woman rose from her rocking chair and headed back inside the house.

"Wait! This is a $100, not $50," Alan pointed out with a frown as the old lady turned back. "Oh my goodness! Is it? I must have mixed up the bills," she exclaimed, taking out the correct bill from her purse and handing it to Alan.

Alan smiled gratefully as he handed back the $100 bill to the lady and pocketed the $50 bill in his pants. "What a kind boy you are. Go on now, it's getting late for a child like you," she said with a warm smile. Blushing, Alan nodded. "Thank you! If you ever need any cleaning service, I can help you with that," he offered with a grin.

"Oh, this is more than enough, dear," the old lady replied, waving him off.

Alan ran down the porch, waved goodbye, and swiftly hopped on his bike, pedaling back home. He raced down the street before skidding to a stop in front of his house. Quickly dismounting, he dragged his bike to the porch and propped it against the railings before entering the house.

"Alan, where were you?" Jennifer asked as she turned towards him, holding a mop. Alan glanced at the wet spot on the floor and walked back a few steps to avoid stepping on it. He slipped off his muddy shoes and left them outside before reentering the house.

"Just with DJ," Alan replied with a grin. Jennifer smiled warmly. "Good, good. Always remember to have fun, okay?" she advised as she moved towards the kitchen to start mopping the floor. Alan tapped his foot on the ground, waiting for the floor to dry before finally settling on the sofa with a sigh of relief, feeling the ache in his back gradually ebb away. In the background, he could hear his mother humming a tune from another room.

After a moment, Alan checked the clock above their TV. "Mom, I think I'm heading out again!" he called out, quickly getting up and rushing towards the stairs, then up to his room. He heard a faint "Alright" from his mother as he entered his room, crouched beside his bed, and retrieved a jar from underneath, pulling out at least a thousand dollars from it.

For years, Alan had been taking on odd jobs around town—cleaning toilets, mowing lawns, walking dogs, and even doing drawings for people. He wasn't yet 15, the minimum age to work at the small grocery store down the block.

Alan had once asked the owner if he could work there, but despite her trying to understand his story, she had told him that he had to be 15. At just 12 years old, Alan still had two more years to go before he could officially apply.

Alan had been taking on these odd jobs with the goal of saving up for a new monitor. And the memory of those two stick figures he drew that caused a Blue Screen of Death made him shiver. He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling like a bit of an idiot and incredibly unlucky. Nevertheless, he closed his jar, relieved to find a few hundred bucks still inside. With this money, he could finally purchase that new monitor and resume his commissions. His online friends had been eagerly awaiting his return.

Having promised them that he would be back soon, Alan's friends had even offered to help him set up social media accounts to attract more commission requests. They suggested platforms like Twitter, Tumblr, and Facebook, among others. This idea had excited Alan, as he was looking forward to expanding his reach. After quickly stashing the jar back under his bed, he hurried back downstairs.

"Oh, you're still here!" Jennifer exclaimed, surprised. "Yep, just went up to grab something. I'm heading out now. See you later!" Alan replied as he rushed out of the house, almost slipping on the floor due to his socks. Jennifer burst into laughter behind him, causing Alan to blush as he made his way outside.

-O-

"The ceiling is dripping," Alan remarked absentmindedly as he massaged his hands, his gaze fixed on the trickling water. Beside him, he heard his mother sigh wearily as she fetched an orange bucket and positioned it over the puddle. She then bent down to fold up the carpet to prevent the water from seeping towards it.

"It's the rain. Thank goodness our roof held up during that storm, although a part did break off," Jennifer lamented, turning back to Alan, who yawned for the fifth time in a row.

"Have you been sleeping well?" Jennifer inquired, observing her son rubbing his eyes tiredly. It was then that she noticed a band on Alan's wrist that she hadn't seen before. "What happened to your wrist?" she asked with concern, gently taking Alan's hand.

"Oh, that's nothing," Alan muttered, yawning once more and rubbing his eyes, his teeth chattering slightly.

"That doesn't look like nothing... Have you been drawing too much? You know you need to rest your wrist, right? What if you develop carpal tunnel?" Jennifer expressed, a frown creasing her brow. Alan simply rotated his wrist carefully before wincing in pain.

"Sorry, I guess I've been too focused on drawing lately. I mean, it can't be helped, right? That's what I'm studying for," Alan mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

Jennifer placed a hand on her waist, expressing concern, "You're just starting your first year at art school. It shouldn't be that strenuous to cause wrist pain, right?" She crossed her arms, eyeing Alan. Alan, feeling a bit sheepish, lowered his head and chuckled awkwardly. "I'll make sure to take better care of myself, Mom," he reassured, shuffling his feet uncomfortably. Jennifer let out a sigh and tousled his already messy hair. "Alright, go to your room and rest now. I'll take care of the dripping," she said wearily.

"Why not hire someone to fix that?" Alan suggested, looking up at the dripping water. "It's too expensive these days. I might ask a friend to fix it for a more reasonable price," Jennifer explained, rubbing her chin before readjusting the bucket with her foot. "Oh, okay," Alan replied, scratching his head.

"Ah, right, duty calls," Jennifer remarked as an alarm sounded from her phone, signaling it was time for her work.

"Okay, Mom, stay safe, alright? Don't forget to eat and drink water," Alan said wearily, mustering a smile. Jennifer affectionately patted his cheek, laughing softly. "You worry about me too much. Let me worry about you first, how about that?" she teased before grabbing her bag and hurrying out the front door.

"That's my problem... You always worry too much about me and not enough about yourself," Alan whispered, clenching his wrist tightly in his other hand, the pain a constant reminder. His chest ached as he made his way up to his room.

Near his desk, a multitude of papers adorned the wall, filled with sketches showcasing his practice in various art forms. From mastering anime characters to drawing realistic faces and creating unique poses.

Art school had significantly improved his skills, attracting more commissions for both his artwork and animations. He had even collaborated with renowned artists on projects ranging from book covers to song covers and more.

Alan had found a way to turn his passion for drawing into a means of supporting his mother financially. While he adored art, it had become a tool for him to assist his mother.

Glancing at the overflowing laundry basket, Alan rolled his eyes in exasperation. The pile seemed to be pleading for attention, calling out to be cleaned. "Ah, damn it," Alan muttered, rubbing the back of his neck in irritation.

Returning his focus to the open monitor displaying a blank canvas, Alan realized he hadn't begun any of his planned tasks for the day. The ache in his wrist grew to the point where he had to pause and massage his wrist in hopes to stop the ache.

With a heavy sigh, he cradled his wrist gently, knowing that a visit to the doctor was currently out of the question. They had more pressing bills to settle, including fixing the roof and the leaking ceiling.

Feeling defeated, Alan slumped into his chair and picked up his pen. "Can't handle anything too strenuous right now," he mumbled, gazing at the blank canvas. Slowly, he began to draw an orange stick figure before halting abruptly

Alan glared at the screen momentarily, almost willing the orange stick figure not to move as he scrutinized it. After a pause, he switched to the next slide and sketched the figure once more. His mind drifted back to the three stick figures he had created and their tragic demise, a weight settling in his chest, gnawing at him from the inside.

"Am I just unlucky?" Alan asked the orange stick figure rhetorically, shaking his head and letting out a bitter laugh. It had been three years since he had made 'The Chosen One' and 'The Dark Lord' in a bid to resurrect an old friend, only to inadvertently destroy his PC in the process, frying the motherboard. DJ, his friend, had been skeptical at his story first, and Alan eventually pushed the incident to the back of his mind, trying to forget about it.

Yet, a lingering question persisted: What if they were all still alive? Would they have become friends? Alan pondered this briefly before sighing and refocusing on his drawing, attempting to push aside the melancholy thoughts that haunted him.

Alan was engrossed in drawing on his canvas when the familiar ding of a Facebook notification interrupted his concentration. Tabbing out of the drawing program, he opened Facebook to find a message from a friend, talking to him about the incident with The Chosen One and the broken computer. "Oh yeah," Alan chuckled, realizing how he had been discussing this story with his friend.

However, his focus was pulled back to the overflowing laundry basket nearby, prompting a groan of annoyance from Alan. "The laundry... It's late, but I should at least make the effort," he muttered to himself, quickly updating his friend about the laundry situation before returning to the canvas with the orange stick figure. "I hope you don't decide to move on your own," Alan joked to himself, breaking into a soft chuckle.

Alan turned towards the overflowing laundry basket, lifting it up into his arms despite the slight twinge of pain in his wrist. "It's fine, it's okay," he reassured himself, wincing once more before carefully making his way out of his room, mindful not to trip over his own feet as he headed towards the laundry area.

The odds seemed stacked against Alan when he returned home to find the orange stick figure he had created, along with other stick figures(?), animated and leaping around on his Facebook feed.

Naturally, panic set in as Alan rushed to clear everything out, ignoring the pain in his wrist as he deleted the other stick figures before turning his attention to the work-related tasks he had been focusing on. He couldn't afford to buy a new PC! (He needs his funds for the house repair)

Ultimately, Alan and the orange stick figure, who identified itself or....himself (?) as "Second," reached an agreement to stop (and become Alan's working partner). Initially hesitant, Alan contemplated deleting Second first, wary of the memories associated with the other stick figures he had created (God he doesn't really want to buy another PC).

He dreaded the possibility of another Blue screen of death but found it difficult to take action against Second, considering Alan felt pity for him (since Alan had killed his friends...., oh you can't honestly blame him if he wanted to avoid another Blue Screen of Death right?).

Despite Second's initial anger over the 'deaths' of his friends, a simple website refresh restored them, easing tensions between Alan and Second.

And that made Second much more complacent with what Alan offered him.

So now Alan had a friend stick figure in his PC who helps him with his commissions from time to time. He even helped Alan with some of his own problems with anatomy (believe him, he still has so many things to improve). Alan was honestly glad that he managed to befriend Second. It was like a dream come true, unlike what happened with victim, The Chosen One, and The Dark Lord.

Alan still couldn't forget them, considering he always remembered them when he sees Second.

Second was fun to be with, along with the skittle gang; Alan had decided to call them the skittle gang as a joke, remembering when he was eating skittles as he watched Second and the gang playing around his desktop (If Alan blurs his eyes, he could see their little heads turn into skittles, and trust me when i say Alan is addicted to skittles....)

Alan used to be able to hang out with them much more often since he needed his monitor for both his classes and his commissions until he had finally turned 15 and landed himself a job at the grocery store down the block.

Which his mother did not take the news so well...

-O-

"Have you been hiding this from me?" Jennifer asked, her voice raising. Alan felt his blood run cold as he nervously fiddled with the hem of his shirt. "I just want to help you," Alan mumbled, ducking his head, his eyes heating up, dangerously close to tears.

"Alan! That is not your job! You're only 15; you need to focus on your school, go outside, and have fun with your friends!" Jennifer said, her tone edged with anger. Alan could only shake his head. "It's not fair; you need help too!" Alan protested, his frustration evident as he banged his fist on the table.

"Fine! Tell me how you're gonna manage your time," Jennifer demanded, matching Alan's gesture with a loud thud of her own fist on the table. Alan bit his lip, realizing he hadn't thought this through. With classes not every day but the grocery store requiring daily shifts, would he have to skip classes or quit his job?

"I—" Alan stammered, biting his tongue, unsure of how to respond.

"See? You don't know how to, Alan. Let me do my job as your mother. I can do this. Don't you trust me?" Jennifer asked, her eyes pleading. Alan ducked his head again and silently nodded. "I do, I'm sorry, Mum. I'll try to do better," Alan whispered, his fist clenching at the top of his thighs.

"You're already doing great, Alan. I should've noticed the signs. DJ had told me you haven't been hanging out much with him anymore," Jennifer said with a frown. Alan remained quiet. "I'm sorry for raising my voice at you, Alan," Jennifer said with a frown, reaching out and ruffling Alan's hair.

"It's fine. I understand where you're coming from," Alan said as he finally looked up with a forced smile. Jennifer only hummed. "How about you rest now? You've had a tiring day," Jennifer suggested, tilting her head. Alan nodded hesitantly. "I guess..." Alan trailed off with a frown before rising from his seat and walking up to his room.

"I'll call you when dinner is ready!" Jennifer called. "'Kay," Alan answered before opening the door to his room and closing it.

Crashing down on his bed with a sigh, "Ugh," Alan said in annoyance. He believed he could manage his time well! With a pout, he readjusted his position, laying on his back with his arms crossed tightly.

"I can handle myself fine. I've been helping Mom since I was 10," Alan muttered to nobody in particular, raising his arms and flailing them annoyedly. He was no longer a child! Alan huffed before turning towards the wall and closing his eyes.

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open as he recalled what he should be doing right now. "Ah, damn it," Alan cursed to himself, springing up to his feet before sitting down at his desk. There, he saw Second drawing in his program. Alan's lips curved into a smile as he lowered his head onto his hands, watching the orange stick figure draw.

"It can wait. Second can finish his work first," Alan murmured with a soft smile.

Suddenly, Alan heard the fan of his PC whirring loudly. He ducked down, attempting to touch it, only to flinch back at the heat. "The hell?" Alan mumbled before turning back to Second and creating his own text box.

[What's going on?] Alan typed. Second only shrugged before hopping down from the program and checking the temperature of the PC, which was borderline 90 degrees and beyond.

"Jesus," Alan exclaimed, his heart pounding in his chest. What if his PC broke down again, and Second and the others got lost? Alan nervously bit his lip before refocusing on the app. Opening the task manager, he noticed the app named "ViraBot.exe" consuming all his CPU and memory, sending his PC into overdrive.

"Hell," Alan muttered, clicking his tongue in frustration. He right-clicked the app and selected "End Task," only to be met with a pop-up stating that the task couldn't be stop.

Beside him, Second looked on in surprise as Alan ran a hand through his hair, bewildered. Second darted down to the window icon and clicked it with his foot, revealing that half of Alan's apps had transformed into strange versions with "Vira" as the first word.

"Is this some kind of virus? What did the others do this time?" Alan muttered in disappointment. Second and the Skittle Gang always seemed to get into questionable situations when he wasn't around. Had they managed to infect his PC? Alan thought, running a hand over his face.

Alan observed as Second attempted to open the Control Panel, only to have his access denied once more. "I'm going to lose my PC again," Alan sighed, shaking his head. He clicked on the window's icon once more and tried to access the security system. Groaning as his access was once again denied, Alan saw Second looking panicked beside him. At least he wasn't alone in this situation, Alan mused with a hint of amusement.

Watching Second tap his chin, Alan observed as the tab closed, revealing a red app with a spider-like symbol named ViraBot.exe.

Alan made a decision to drag the app towards the recycle bin, only for it to pop back up again, startling Second, who flinched. Determined, Alan dragged it towards the recycle bin once more and promptly emptied it. For a moment, the app didn't reappear, and Second cheered. However, the relief was short-lived as the app reappeared again.

"Oh man," Alan muttered. Suddenly, an orange text appeared at the side. [Draw me a hammer], Second requested.

Alan grabbed his pen and swiftly drew a hammer for Second. He watched as Second took the hammer and began pounding the app. Alan winced as his entire desktop shook. How was that even possible? Alan pondered as he observed Second stop, causing the app to break in half, revealing a red spider inside.

"Is... Is that a fucking egg?" Alan blurted out before quickly shutting his mouth. He hadn't meant to say that out loud.

Thank goodness his mother wasn't here.

Alan watched as the red spider emerged from the cracked app. For a moment, Second and the spider locked eyes. Second glanced at Alan's cursor before swinging his hammer wide, attempting to strike. However, the spider intercepted the blow with its arm. "Uh," Alan uttered, observing the unfolding scene. Was that supposed to happen? Alan wondered.

The spider took a bite of the hammer, and Alan watched in horror as it dissolved into red code until it vanished. Second flinched as the spider turned towards him, swiftly dodging its attack. The drawing that Second had been working on earlier dissolved into nothing as the spider passed through it.

Second leaped away, narrowly avoiding another strike from the spider. Alan quickly increased the size of his pencil and tried to trap the spider within a cage, only for it to dissolve into nothing once more. "What the heck?!" Alan exclaimed in surprise. Beside him, Second began creating rockets and launching them at the spider. However, the spider effortlessly dodged each rocket before retaliating with a spike, erasing the last rocket from existence.

Second created more rockets, but they were swiftly deleted by the strange spikes coming from the spider. Alan swiftly assisted Second in drawing a fly swatter, bringing it close to the spider before yanking it back and striking the spider to the ground. Alan then drew a rocket launcher, with Second following suit. However, the spider erased both the fly swatter and the rocket launcher from existence. Suddenly, the spider extended from the pencil in Second's hand.

With a loud crunch, it bit into the pencil before turning its attention back to Second, preparing to pounce once more. Alan clenched his teeth, a mix of anger and protectiveness surging through him. He grabbed the spider mid-air and hurled it to the side of the screen, ensuring Second had jumped off first. Alan then seized the program and repeatedly slammed it onto the spider, hoping to kill it once and for all.

Alan winced as he watched the program shatter while he continued to slam it onto the spider. On the side of the screen, he noticed Second leaping into Google Chrome, probably to call for help, Alan surmised, as he persisted in his efforts against the spider. "Come on," Alan urged.

Suddenly, the spider leaped from its position and darted into Google Chrome. "No!" Alan cried out, chasing after it. Inside the browser, multiple tabs appeared (oh its actually fucking virus, Alan is definitely mad), and the spider began devouring the borders of the Skittle Gang's house.

As the spider lunged towards them, Alan seized it with his cursor once more, slamming it against the wall. However, the spider retaliated by grabbing his cursor and taking a bite, completely erasing it. "Ah, darn," Alan muttered as he attempted to access the Windows icon, typing in the settings for his mouse. Yet, the spider swiftly slashed away his attempts, preventing Alan from creating a new cursor.

Second and the others exchanged nods before launching at the spider. Second kicked it upward towards Blue, who sent it down to Green, and Green directed it towards the wall. The spider's body rebounded off the wall and was then punched down by Yellow, passed to Red who slammed it and kicked it back in Second's direction.

"You guys got it!" Alan cheered, although he should probably have been searching for a way to remove the virus from his PC on his phone. Watching their battle was more captivating anyway.

As the group continued their assault, Blue's leg was seized by the spider, causing everyone to halt and step back. Blue struggled, pounding his fist on the spider before being slammed to the ground. Green leaped toward the spider, only to be repelled by a kick from the spider. "Ah..." Alan uttered, uncertain of what to do as he witnessed the stick figures struggling.

"Oh no, oh no," he panicked, clutching his head, watching Second ensnared by a web produced by the spider. As the spider lunged towards Second, a sudden boom appeared, and a white portal materialized on Alan's screen. "Huh?" Alan expressed in confusion.

"HUHHHH?" Alan exclaimed as a familiar black stick figure emerged from the portal.

-O-

"Oh, this is... well, awkward," Alan muttered, his gaze fixed on the black stick in front of him. Beside it, a red stick mirrored his stare. "It's like the fight never even happened just a few hours ago," he mused to himself, glancing at Second, who was animatedly pointing at the two stick figures – Dark and Chosen.

[Quickly! This is Dark, and this is Chosen] Second declared, taking hold of both stick figures' arms.

Alan rubbed the back of his head, a knowing expression on his face. He hadn't expected Second to win over Dark(or does he have his charm level to 100?). "So My Little Pony was telling us the truth all this time, the power of friendship does work," Alan quipped silently before shaking his head (Alan..... Seriously?).

With his PC in a sorry state, he knew this wasn't the time for jokes. However, he couldn't muster up any anger towards Dark and Chosen; instead, he felt a rush of relief that they were both safe and sound.

Alan created a text box, typing, [Hello] and leaving it at that. He wasn't sure what else to say. It had been years since he had seen the two of them, and they were likely upset with him.

They hadn't parted on good terms, Alan pondered, tapping his chin. He briefly considered explaining his side of the story before shrugging it off. Ultimately, it didn't seem to matter now; it appeared they were doing well regardless.

As Alan observed Second and the Skittle Gang enthusiastically surrounding Dark and Chosen, a sense of disbelief washed over him. "It's as if he didn't actually kill them," he murmured, shaking his head.

Perhaps it was up to him to impart some sense of right and wrong to them. After all, he couldn't remain unchanged if he were to be erased by the very person now standing in front of him .

"That's insane," Alan muttered, crossing his arms in contemplation, his attention shifting back to his malfunctioning program and the unresponsive Windows icon. "Ugh," he groaned in frustration, no longer paying attention to the other stick figures as he focused on tidying up his cluttered desktop.

Unbeknownst to Alan, Dark and Chosen observed his cursor's movements with keen interest.

Alan hummed softly to himself as he deleted the last section of the program, a sense of relief washing over him. "Thank goodness," he muttered, reopening the program to find it intact. Glancing around the screen, he noticed the empty virtual space. "Perhaps they're in the Minecraft house," he mumbled, feeling a twinge of disappointment at not having spoken to Chosen or Dark. The memory of the red stick made him cautious.

Although Second had assured him that Dark had moved on from such activities (who the hell moves on from being a terrorist and murderer? How?)Alan couldn't shake off the fear of potentially losing his PC again.

He wished he could convey to Second that he wasn't exactly wealthy and couldn't afford to replace his computer again. "Alan, dinner is ready!" His mother's voice interrupted his thoughts, prompting him to spring up from his seat. He left his room, closing the door quietly behind him, and hurried down the stairs with a small smile on his face.

"You look excited," Jennifer remarked as she set Alan's plate on the table.

"Mhm, just met some old friends," Alan chuckled internally at the term 'old friends'. They weren't exactly friends, considering Chosen had tried to break his cursor first, which ultimately led to his PC breaking, and now Dark with his bright idea to kill everyone(honestly what's with them killing people, surely Alan didn't make them to act like that right?).

Jennifer hummed. "That's good. Don't tell me it's one of those old men you talk to online," Jennifer said with a glare.

"Oh, mom, those were commissions for art. They aren't my friends," Alan said, blushing as he buried his face in his hands. Jennifer only giggled. "I know. You work so hard to help me, Alan. I know I haven't thanked you enough," Jennifer said with a smile.

Alan awkwardly readjusted his position in his chair before shakily biting into his spoon. "I know," Alan murmured with a nervous smile.

It was weird being thanked and complimented, Alan thought before blushing again and looking back down at his food.

"Alan, I just really want to say I appreciate what you've been doing for me. I know I'm not always here beside you," Jennifer said with a pained smile. Alan snuck a glance at her and nodded. "Itsh fine. I really whanted to shelp," Alan said, his mouth full of food.

Jennifer laughed gently. "Alan, don't talk with your mouth full," she teased, while Alan weakly glared at her. After swallowing his food, he continued, "I said I really wanted to help you. I don't want you to carry the burden alone... After... Dad died..." Alan trailed off before taking another bite. Jennifer gave him a sad smile.

"Oh, Alan, you're no longer a baby, are you? You're only 15 and you're thinking about that now?" Jennifer said, her eyes lowering to her untouched plate. Alan looked up at her with raised brows.

"What's wrong with that? Isn't it better for me to understand things earlier?" Alan asked. Jennifer shook her head. "No, you're supposed to be having fun with your friends, playing in the arcade, refusing to come home early, having parties... Not overworking yourself to death," Jennifer said. Alan swallowed his food again, pondering his response.

"I mean, that's what you do, don't you?" Alan asked, tilting his head. Jennifer's eyes widened in understanding before she bit her lip. "I'm not the best role model, you know," Jennifer said with a pained smile. Alan chewed silently, unsure of how to respond.

"It's okay, mom. I feel better when I know I'm here helping you out. I don't want you to be tired as well. It's better if we both carry the burden, right?" Alan said with a smile.

Jennifer laughed, "When did you grow up so well, Alan?" She reached across the table and pinched Alan's cheeks. "Ow!" Alan whined as Jennifer laughed and dug into her food. "That hurts, mom!" Alan complained, rubbing his cheek with a pout. "You're just too cute," Jennifer teased, while Alan only glared at her.

-O-

Alan bobs his head to the music as he sketches the body of what was commissioned from him. They wanted their OC to be drawn in a certain pose, which Alan tweaked a little to look slightly better. At the corner of his eyes, he sees Second pull out a sofa at the bottom left of the screen and sit on it, just watching Alan draw. For a moment, Alan pays him no mind, continuing his work in silence. Then he sees Chosen and Dark join Second.

They looked like they were in a conversation with how many gestures Second was making. Alan hums again before turning back towards his work and focuses on the music. "La la la," Alan sings along with the music before he sees Second climb the program, causing him to lean back.

[Hi] Second says, nervously scuffing his feet on the ground. Alan feels his brow raise. He taps his pen on his cheek for a moment before grabbing his mouse and creating a text box for himself.

[Yo, what is it?] Alan responded. He sees Second tapping his two nub hands together nervously. [Chosen and Dark said you and him used to know each other. Did you make him and Dark? Is that why we all look the same?] Second asked before rubbing the back of his head nervously.

"Ahh, it's that talk, huh," Alan hummed as he looked at the corner of the screen, seeing Chosen and Dark watching them with interest.

"Right..." Alan dragged awkwardly, thankful that these three couldn't see him because he was flustered right now. What should he say exactly? "Uhhm," Alan said before deleting his paragraph and typing his response, [I do know them, and I did create them], wincing slightly at how dry and straightforward it is.

Maybe that's why Chosen and Dark thought he didn't care for them, Alan thought sadly, dropping his chin on the palm of his hands and watching Second clap excitedly. [Chosen and Dark really want to talk to you, but it's up to you if you want to!] Second said as he hopped excitedly.

"Talk to me, huh?" Alan said with a hum, feeling slightly nervous.

[So?] Second asked. Alan reached towards his keyboard and deleted his paragraph again. [Sure, now? I still have work to do], Alan said as Second nodded, waving his arm. [Anytime, they said. When you're free from work! I told them you're always very busy with work, so they said you guys can talk anytime], Second said, and Alan smiled.

Second was always so thoughtful, Alan thought with a smile. [Okay, go enjoy your time. I'll work here], Alan responded, and Second nodded, jumping off the program and squeezing between Dark and Chosen again. "Wonder if they talk," Alan hummed to himself as he watched their heads bob, assuming they were speaking. "Cool," Alan said before picking up his pen and continuing his work. The deadline was tomorrow anyway, and Alan had just started now. Plus, he still had classes tomorrow at 9 AM.

Alan internally groaned and rolled his eyes. Oh, if only he wasn't a 15-year-old in this world. Maybe in another world, he's a 35-year-old man with a stable job, able to help his mother so she doesn't need to work anymore. Alan shakes his head, knowing it's no use letting his mind drift to that part of the 'What ifs'.

By the time it had reached 4 AM, Alan was stretching his arm over his head, saving the drawing he made and placing it in a specific folder where he stores his commissions. At the side, he sees the couch that Second had pulled, now empty. "Ah, they're already asleep," Alan said as he closed his app and leaned back in his chair with a relieved sigh. "Ah, thank god I'm finished," Alan said with a smile before he noticed Chosen walking on the desktop, looking up at his cursor. Oh, so he wants to talk now? Alan thought, surprised that the black stick was still awake. For a moment, Alan opened his Notepad and dragged it closer to Chosen.

Chosen flinched at the sudden movement, causing Alan to frown. [Hello, you're still awake?] Alan said. Do Chosen talk like Second does? Alan thought, doubting himself if he needs Second here to tell him what Chosen is saying until– [Yes, you're also awake, aren't you? It's 4 AM already], Chosen said as he crossed his arms. Alan chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. No way a stick figure is telling him about his time management out of all people! Alan thought with amusement.

[Well, yeah, I just need to finish my work], Alan replied as he watched Chosen shake his head as if he was disappointed by Alan's body clock. [I understand, I'm in no position to say anything about your decision, you're a grown man], Chosen remarked, causing Alan to raise his brows. "Okay?" Alan said to himself with a chuckle. Did Chosen seriously think he's a grown man? Oh, how Alan wished he was. "Right," Alan said with a laugh, paying no mind to it (he will come to regret that).

[Second said you and Dark wanted to talk to me, we can talk now], Alan typed down before leaning closer as Chosen stared at his text. [Okay], Chosen responded with a curt nod. For a moment, Alan stared at the screen, wondering who was going to talk first. [Did you only create us to watch us suffer?] Chosen suddenly asked, jolting Alan back to reality. "Right...Wait- hold up, what?" Alan asked, his voice rising at the hilarity of Chosen's question.