Whein looks like a middle schooler gossiping at a sleepover, lying on its stomach with its hands propping up its chin. Its jacket is off for once in its life, exposing the sleeveless turtleneck it’s wearing. You would never know that it wears anything other than t-shirts with the way its jacket covers everything up.
Its arms are locking up so it rolls over on its back and nearly rolls off the bed. In the small struggle to keep itself on the bed, its necklace gets tangled in its hair. It's at times like this that it regrets having such long and messy hair. As everyone else watches it nearly damn strangle itself with the tangle of hair and chain, they regret not forcing it to run a brush through its hair for once in its life.
It has to sit up and take several minutes before it decides to just yank the chain out of its hair. It's glad it decided to take off most of its jewelry earlier because it undoubtedly would have gotten more tangled with the rest of its jewelry.
It gets up to swap the chain out for one that has less hair stuck in the loops. It’ll clean it later. One of its chains is hung on the doorknob so it switches it out and slips it over its head.
By the time it turns back, one of the little bastards it decided to let into its bedroom has already stolen its spot on the bed. It bares its teeth just to be quirky or something before shoving itself on the dresser. It’s not pouting. It’s not like its pain was taken advantage of for the betterment of someone else.
It gets over it quickly, and even quicker as the thief grabs its phone from the nightstand. It has to lunge for them before they try to change the music and end up causing another argument about what they’re gonna listen to. It barely won the argument the first time on account of it being its room in the first place and also biting everyone else.
They wrestle for the phone for a bit before it gets bopped in the face when it tries to bite. Everyone talking about fighting dirty and it being a fucking gremlin and having rabies or something. Listen, it’s not its fault it has fucking noodle arms and is so much weaker. If it has no chance of winning when playing fair, then what's the point of playing fair?
As it gets banished to the floor it gets a kick in, just to prove a point. It's letting them banish it to the floor, it's choosing to listen to them. The floor is better than any of the spots above the floor simply because it picked out the rug to be soft. There are three losers in this room and three cool people as far as it can tell.
It lays on the soft rug that covers almost all of the floor in the room and sighs. It stares up at the fan that’s spinning in circles dragging along some poor worms on a string for the ride.
The conversation between everyone continues as they shut their eyes. A small nap won’t hurt. It’s not like it's being soft right now. There’s no reason for it to be soft, certainly no overwhelming feelings of love for their dearest friends here.
Gods, it loves its friends.