"Fucking dammit."
Agatha clenches her phone in her hand, the claw on her thumb tapping on the thoroughly smeared and lightly scratched screen protector. Her ears flick as she leers at the checkmark next to her message 'So when do you want to meet?' Sent 8 hours ago. Left on read. Again.
"Fuck," she mutters under her breath, the Rottweiler swipes back on the messenger, looking at the rest of the private messages she had sent out over the course of the last month. She squints as she scrolls through conversation after conversation, each message she left accompanied by a little checkmark. That little, fucking, checkmark.
"Fuck fuck fuck!"
She yells in frustration, flinging her phone at her unkempt dresser where it lands with a loud thwack as metal slab meets padded bra on wood. She throws herself backwards with her legs kicking up high in the air, nearly missing the ceiling fan. Her body makes impact with her sturdy bed, the steel legs digging even deeper into the floor with every tantrum she's thrown. The change in position does nothing to quell her frustrations however as she rolls back and forth, cursing and screaming, her fists slamming into the mattress and pillows.
"Stupid cunt, just answer me, please," she sobs face down into the mattress. Her intention to stay in her manic tantrum is interrupted by a loud banging on her bedroom door. Her stub tail goes rigid as a growl emanates from her chest.
"Christ, Aggy, what now?" A masculine voice invades the Rottie's den through the door, breaking through her misery just enough to annoy her.
"Go away Brady," she yells from her bed. Her hands clutch a nearby pillow and to underline her statement, she chucks the feather filled headrest right at the door, missing her target and instead striking the light switch which plunges her into darkness. Despite her warnings, the click of the doorknob turning and the groan of ill-maintained hinges echo through her room. She can't help her growl as she rolls to face away from the entrance, pulling another pillow nearby to cover her head. Light creeps into her brooding nest as his shadow reveals itself in front of her on the opposite wall. The silhouette is still, facing forward before the shape looks towards her dresser, then back to her.
"Another Bumble fumble," the shadow tilts its head.
"Fuck you, Brady," Agatha snaps back.
She watches as the shadow enlarges for just a moment before the door closes, bringing her back to the soothing emptiness of darkness. She can hear him inside her room, stepping over dirty clothes and towels while kicking her empty sports bottles to the corner. She hears him sigh.
"You have to be more careful with your phone."
"Shut the fuck up and leave me alone." She growls again. He laughs.
"I'm gonna look at your phone unless you stop me," he teases her. She hears him closing in on her before sitting down on the floor at the foot of her bed frame.
"I always tell ya, Aggy," he gloats. "These kinds of girls are like checkmarks. They always check in to mark out."
This causes the canine to break out of her stupor. She swivels her body on the sheets to rush over to the edge, snapping her phone out of the human's hand before giving his brown mop a quick slap.
"Fuck you, you incel pig!"
"Hey," he clutches his head as he ducks closer to the floor. "I'm not the one that throws a hissy fit every week when they get stood up!"
"Yeah because you don't even try, asshole," she says before crawling back to her edge of the bed. She slumps back onto her side, she already folded ears clenching tighter to her skull. In a way, she knew he was right. Brady always had a sense for that kind of shit, ever since she met him. Thinking back to how they met makes her furrow her brow harder, a paw coming up to rub her temples.
They originally met back when she was in middle school, as was he. Her older brother had been dating his older sister and more often than not, she'd dump Brady at the canine's abode when she was supposed to be babysitting. Agatha never really minded, hell, she liked it; he'd bring over games and they'd watch movies and anime her dad burned at church. Most girls in her school at the time didn't really care about games, and the ones that liked anime just liked a different kind from her. She still liked hanging out with girls but there was just something off about it to her, and she couldn't put her finger on it. Brady knew.
"Do you like girls too?"
She still didn't get how the little fucker could tell. He didn't even have any friends that were girls. The worst part about it at the time was that she knew he was right. The same night, while holding an ice pack over his right eye he told me his older sister was cheating on my brother. I called her a mega cunt and he agreed. We both let my brother know, and once he got home, Brady spent the night and the three of us stayed up all night taking turns beating TimeSplitters 2 on co-op. Brady was lucky that he brought all his games over, the next day he found out his sister ran over his Gamecube. Today, it's my brother's GameCube in the living room of our shared apartment, and all of Brady's games.
"Fuck," she says. "Is it me?"
The Rottie rolls onto her back, staring up at the ceiling as her eyes adjust to the darkness. She hears a shuffling on the floor, her bed rocks as the human bumps the frame.
"You know it's not," he replies with a grunt. "Mind if I join you?"
"Sure."
She sways back and forth as the mattress wiggles and compresses under Brady's weight. He plops himself down with a sigh, lying parallel to her. She doesn't look at him, but she can feel the weight next to her, completely dwarfed by her own. Morph beds were just larger by default than most standard beds for humans, and if his own lithe body wasn't bad enough, she used the gym more times a week than he has since graduating high school. He fidgets again, she doesn't even need to see him to know he is holding his hands over his torso. Just Brady things.
"So," he starts.
