His mom appeared not even a minute later, a bit flustered, but relieved to see her child waiting for her.
"I told you not to run away like that, you dummy."
Charice, hurt by her insult, sighed.
"...Is someone coming over again today?" Charice asked as his mom unlocked the door. She put the seatbelt on for him and gave him a lollipop. "He... Might be." She said with teary eyes.
"...You're sad," Charice said it like an insult, flat and plain in tone, but his mother knew he meant it well. "I'm not," she claimed, "You know how pollen gets me, allergies. Besides, I can't cry, it'll ruin my make-up!"
She chuckled, yet Charice found nothing comical to laugh at.
"...You're prettier when you cry." He mumbled.
She didn't answer. It was late, the moon was rising, and the sun was barely there on the horizon. She already had to pay the teachers extra to keep her son for so long, and even then, there simply was no time at all...
The car drove through the ever-so-loud city. Charice sank into the seats as his mother ducked and weaved between traffic, the cheap, cold plastic pressing against his back and arms. He looked outside at the lit streetlamps, counting them.
"They put up a new street lamp!" Charice pointed eagerly.
"That's great, honey." His mom casually noted, looking at the road ahead instead of where her son was pointing. With a flick of her wrist, she turned on the radio and placed a DVD into it. A traditional Japanese song began to play.
The street lamp flickered as Charice lowered his hand again, the yellow light turning an imperceivably lighter shade of red before returning to normal as they drove past it.
They arrived home, the stinky stairway unwelcoming as ever, the stairs to the basement covered in thick black ooze, along with a single red point of light.
They walked past it and up the stairs, which were far older than Charice himself.
They lived on the third floor: An average apartment with four rooms, including the bathroom. One of them belonged to Charice, another to his mom and her clients, and in the middle was a kitchen-living room hybrid.
The house looked neat and clean. With a simple, small carpet, a couch, and a TV. The fridge was either half empty or half full, depending on how optimistic they felt.
The living room was covered in a thin trail of fog. He ignored the faint musky scent in the air and moved past it.
Charice made his way to his room. There was a VR package on the bed.
"Mom?!" Charice shouted, for the first time, his face animated, "Did you?!"
He turned to the door, finding his mother there, smiling at him while leaning on the door frame, "I might just have."
He rushed to her and hugged her, the stars shining through the window behind him. Even the faintest trail of mist was dispelled, creating an oh-so-bright world around him.
It was then that a knock could be heard.