"Don't be eye candy, be soul food." – Unknown

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Tristan's POV

"Oh yeah, Fletcher's coming too," Tristan mentioned as an afterthought, spinning around in his chair before a nauseated feeling came over him. Before he could hear Retina's response, he tapped 'end call' on his phone and set it down softly.

Honestly, it wasn't like he actually wanted to go to his mother's fancy business party or anything. Unfortunately, since his mother enjoyed sipping the not-very-occasional drink of wine and mingling with the guests of honor, he figured that it was smart for him to be designated driver, since he personally hated alcohol and would gladly let it burn in the depths of hell.

On another note, was Retina good with kids? Just thinking about her and Hope plotting evil schemes and being Team Double Bitches made him grimace. Because if she did something to screw Hope's night up... actually no, the little brat deserved it for calling her when he specifically told her not to! Did children have ears?

Bah, kids and their crappy impressions of Beethoven.

Rolling his eyes, Tristan mindlessly arranged the books on his bookshelf in chronological order, relishing in the perfectionism of it all; but at the same time, reminiscing the days when Hope didn't exist on this planet and royally screw up his love life.

Okay, that was kinda mean.

Besides, what kind of 'love' life did he even have with Retina?! Oh right, there wasn't one! They were just friends. No, barely even friends, he was just the expert and she was the patient who still hadn't had her eyes fixed yet.

We have no chemistry, he scolded himself. We're just friends, stupid brain! What happened to you being on my side?

This time, the inner voice did not say anything, as though it was just silently judging him like, 'mate, you stupid.' He didn't know what to make of his and Retina's friend-slash-awkward-relationship. They had some of the strangest conversations, but for some reason, he actually enjoyed talking to her! Crazy, right?

To be honest, he also had no idea why he had put off researching whatever was wrong with her eyes yet. It wasn't like he was the type of guy to procrastinate, pshh, no! Of course not! When in the effin' hell did he ever procrastinate? What was this procrastination society spoke of? A foreign word? A spy code?

Great, now he was procrastinating admitting his procrastination problem.

Either way, it wasn't like him to leave questions and tasks for this long. Sure, Retina was a great girl with a great personality, but what made her so special? Well, if she provided him with pizza, it would get way better; but hell, he liked her even without the additional pizza! What was up with him? Was this... was this a crush?

Nope, stupid disobedient crazy brain.

Absolutely not a crush!

"Tristy, why are you still in here? It's been ages!" a cute little voice interrupted Tristan's thoughts. Hope, his seven-year-old younger sister, wandered into the room. She energetically leaped onto the bed and jumped up and down mercilessly, springs creaking dangerously beneath her small feet.

"Jeez, Hope," Tristan muttered under his breath, running a hand through his already messy hair, just to make it even messier. He still didn't get why girls like Retina cared so much about physical appearances. Hello? It was just hair! Hair, which everyone grew. Whoop-de-doo, pieces of keratin sticking out of your skin!

"What?" Hope demanded questioningly, hopping off the bed in a flash and laying out on the soft carpet like a lethargic cat. "What did I do?"

"Huh?" Tristan asked absentmindedly, fiddling with a corner of a piece of thin notebook paper, before turning his attention to the steely blue eyes that were an exact emulation of his. Hope blinked at him imploringly. "Nothing, you didn't do anything," he assured her.

"Are you still mad about me calling your girlfriend?" Hope asked anxiously. "I swear I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, I just wanted to know who you were talking to!"

"It's fine, it's fine!" Tristan said distractedly, though he quickly realised that 'it's fine' was probably the worst phrase ever to reassure a girl, no matter how young they were. Girls could be mighty temperamental beasts, they could.

Hope sat up stubbornly, folding her arms tightly. "I don't believe you."

Sighing quietly, he got down on one knee in front of his sister, grabbing the light-up pink fairy wand that she used to enjoy waving around as a toddler but ended up growing out of. Tristan was glad for that, since many painful incidents were associated with that wand. Namely, whacking him in the head and giving him a concussion.

Five times.

Ladies and gentlemen, prepare your graters- because the next thing Tristan was going to say was going to be some of the cheesiest stuff in the world of cheesiness.

"Hope Elizabeth Gray. I, Tristan Marcus Gray, am incredibly apologetic for the awful deeds and ignorance I have displayed this fine evening. Therefore, I present thou with a magic wand, the very best of its kind, as an attempt to make up for my many wrongdoings. Oh Hope, will you ever forgive me?" Tristan said solemnly, though he was trying not to burst into laughter on the spot.

Hope stared at him. "I didn't understand anything you just said."

Tristan laughed and got up to his feet, gently tapping his sister's head with the tip of the wand. "Neither did I, to be honest. There you are, Queen Hope! I have tapped you with the bestest wand in the world. Am I forgiven now?"

Her eyebrows climbed higher than the tippity-top of Mount Everest, before she cracked a smile and took the wand from him, turning gently it in her hand. "Apology accepted, Jester Grey. Why were you so you know, before?"

"What do you mean by 'you know'?" Tristan asked with a teasing smile. "I'm older than you, and I'm allowed to have problems too, pip-squirt." He ruffled Hope's hair and she leaped away with a squeal, as though he had just electrocuted her.

Jeez, you see? Girls and their hair! He just didn't understand.

"Well, you were acting weird," Hope said in a unusually concerned tone.

"I'm fine, it's just-" Tristan was cut off with a loud 'ping' from his phone.

Picking the iPhone up from where it had previously been stiffly laying on the desk, he was met with a lengthy text which read, what's your address? I can't babysit if I don't know where you live, mate. Unless you're too gangster to own a house and you're sleeping on the street, befriending sewer rats left and right.

Snickering, he typed a slightly shorter reply. Second house on the right on Cameron Street, since it's a dead end road. And please, I thought you'd be the one doing a Snow White and befriending rats!

Great, they were still having their entertainingly annoying conversations, but the texting addition. What was next, the Retinut Reality show? Keeping Up with the Eye Freaks?

Less than ten seconds later, she had replied with a cutting insult. I don't because I have this thing called dignity, unlike you. Be there in ten, get ready for my awesomeness.

Oh, I'll be long gone before then, Tristan reassured her.

Do you want me to do a secret knock so your sister knows I'm not a murderer? she suggested. Tristan could imagine her voice making fun of the ridiculousness of the situation, though he quickly eliminated the sound of her twinkling laugh. Nope. It didn't bother him at all. Nor turn him on. Absolutely not.

Yeah, that's a good idea! Knock in the tune of Yankee Doodle.

You can't knock in a melody.

Shush, little grasshopper. Just do it.

So you admit that you're wrong! I'm smart, right? Like graduated-high-school-at-thirteen smart. Oh wait, what a coincidence!

You're smart at being dumb. See you in a bit!

Correction: I won't see you in a bit, since I'll be long gone before you get here.

"Tristy? Hello?" Hope waved a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his trance and making him realise that he had the stupidest grin on this face. He shuddered and drew a slow breath, before letting the smile melt back into the usual blank expression. "Who're you texting? And who's my babysitter tonight?

"Your babysitter-" Tristan paused for dramatic effect. It wasn't like he was good at drama class when he was still in school, but it wasn't his fault that he started blabbering on about square functions every time he was meant to be reciting Shakespeare! Either way, drama was paying off now. "-Is, and I'm quoting you right now, my girlfrieeeeend."

Hope gasped in excitement. "I get to meet her? Yay! You're the best, Tristy!" She jumped on him as though boosted by a trampoline, wrapping her arms around him in nothing less than a headlock as Tristan spluttered and stumbled, trying to shake her off.

"Hope- I really have to go now," Tristan choked out.

Hope seemed to realise that she was strangling him and jumped off, looking apologetic. "Oh, sorry! I just got excited."

"Anyway," Tristan continued, rubbing his throat. "She should be here in about eight minutes. Tell her that she has access to everything in this house. Except my room. And my baby pictures. And anywhere inside the basement. Actually, why don't you just keep her in the kitchen and living room?"

"Okay!" Hope said brightly. "Do you want me to tell her anything else?"

Tristan opened his mouth, hesitated for a moment, and then reluctantly closed it. "Nope, that's it. Remember, look through the peephole before you open the door! If you see a girl around my age, that's a good sign. If she knocks in the tune of Yankee Doodle, you'll know it's her. Got it?"

"Got it!" Hope answered, mock-saluting him.

"Have fun, squirt!" Tristan ruffled her hair again, earning another high-pitched squeal and a whack from his sister. "I need to pick mom up. Will you be okay alone? Well, accompanied by the Devils." Hope responded to his query by pushing him out the door. Tristan scoffed jokingly. "Okay then, I see how it is! I'll miss you so much too!"

Stumbling out the door into the chilly wind as it buffed him to the side, he managed to walk in a drunkenly straight line to his car. The shiny metal looked as though it would immediately collapse under another gust of wind, but it surprisingly held up.

He fumbled with his keys as he struggled to find the one that unlocked his car. After a dragging minute or so, he eventually managed to hit a random button, which trigged a loud, satisfying click from the vehicle. Sliding into the velvety seat and slamming the car door, he gunned the engine and immediately backed out of the driveway, wanting to just get the stupid party over with.

What was the point of business parties anyway? It was basically the reflection of a high school party, except the adult edition. It was like, 'hey, we're adults who can legally drink, so let's host a party where we mingle and get hella drunk, but blame it on business so the cops don't turn up and arrest us!'

Great idea, wasn't it?

If your answer was no, Tristan agreed.

But before long, his mom was seated beside him in the car and innocently chattering in a Hope sort of way. Like mother, like daughter, he guessed. He was a lot more like his father; reclusive and hated people in general, but meh. People were all different.

Messing with the life cycle was like trying to cover up purple paint with red paint, and then, oops! Why not toss some green in there because red wasn't working? But oh wait, then you end up with an ugly brown colour in the end. Straight up, it never turned out well.

Art student struggles, bro.

Taking a deep breath before climbing out of the car, Tristan made his way towards the crowd that his mother had already disappeared into within three seconds of arriving at the scene. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of dark blonde hair, before someone slammed into him and knocked him onto the ground.

"Oh my God!" the girl gasped, before holding her hand out to help Tristan up. Though dazed and confused, he quickly noted her flowing waves of silky hair, slender figure and glittering green eyes. "I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there! Shit, how much did I injure you? Are you-"

"Fine!" Tristan exclaimed, holding a hand up. The girl's stream of barely coherent words abruptly paused, before Tristan realised he sounded kind of rude. "I'm fine," he said in a calmer tone. "It's no problem. I'm just dazed and... I feel like I just drank eight shots of vodka, which doesn't even make sense, since I'm underage and all."

"Tell me about it," the girl scoffed. "Were you also dragged to this stupid business party out of your own will? I mean, my boyfriend is the one who gets to babysit a cute little kid with one of my friends and I'm stuck here, sipping grape juice? So unfair."

Tristan gazed at her perplexedly. He probably should have figured out earlier that maybe, just maybe, this girl and his own paths connected at one point, but he was busy thinking about Retina and how she and Hope were getting along back at the Gray residence.

"Your boyfriend is babysitting someone with your other friend? That's funny, my friend and my not-really girlfriend are babysitting my little sister..." Tristan trailed off as her emerald green eyes widened in front of him.

"Wait, um, who's your not-really girlfriend?" The girl asked in a forcedly calm tone. "Because this may end up being one hell of a coincidence."

"Uh, I don't actually know her name," Tristan answered the question he was starting to get tired of answering. "What do you mean, coincidence? Who's your boyfriend?"

"Fletcher," the girl said slowly, as though she thought he was stupid. "My boyfriend works at Waffle Cones, and his name is Fletcher Parker."

Tristan's mouth dropped open in shock. "You're her. You're Emily."

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Faith's POV

"Oh yeah, Fletcher's coming too," Tristan's surprisingly nonchalant voice issued out of the speaker, although the zing to his words contained an air of mild tension.

Faith's next intake of breath changed from a placid sigh into a strange sucking noise, as though she was inhaling air through a straw. You know, when you're absentmindedly drinking a beverage and don't realise that you've already downed it all, so you end up sucking empty air and looking like a total noob? Yeah, like that.

Her eyebrows crinkled in confusion with a similarity to scrapbook paper. Faith didn't notice that Tristan had ended the call before her surprised, "Wait, what?" graced his ears.

Her question received no response, so she assumed that he had hung up on her without realising the implications of his words. See?! This was the reason why words could pack a bigger punch than physical gestures. Words were like kangaroos, seemingly halcyon and adorable, but then bam! You get sucker punched in the stomach.

Kangaroos were sneaky little marsupials, they were.

Pure evil with a pinch of adorable captivation.

Faith had a good thirty seconds to contain her thoughts, though the main thoughts that were running through her mind went something along the lines of mini Faiths screaming, 'arghhh! Red alert! Runnnnn! You're meeting Fletcher! You're meeting Hope! Run before you die! Save yourself! Arghhhhhhhh!'

Darn overreacting brain cells.

But once the last of those precious thirty seconds came to a close, her thoughts were interrupted with a loud buzzing from her cell phone. Reaching a lazy hand over to pick it up and check the notification, she discovered that the gesture was completely wasted, as the text seemed to be a random notification from one of her many social media accounts.

The next fifteen minutes passed by in a trance, minutes unimportant and events primarily insignificant. Faith busied herself by drawing her silver curtains, material rippling and sleek material sliding under a loose grasp. Next came the arranging of her stationery- replacing empty pens with new cartilages, mechanical pencils with more lead...

If you couldn't already tell, Faith truly had no idea what she was doing with her life when it came down to asking the question. Between cheer practice, dance class, other extracurricular activities and school, she had basically lost her ability to life- she was doing so much, achieving so little.

And there was that teensy little problem with her eyesight...

Speaking of which, the regular cloudiness which she had grown used to had thankfully receded on this not-particularly-momentous occasion. Why hadn't Tristan found a cure for her yet? Wasn't he meant to be the science-genius-whiz-I-know-everything guy?

Jeez, what an arrogant peanut he was!

Sighing, she ditched the three sad pens and left them lying on her table with little empathy. Well hey, they were just pens! A little insignificant compared to what she was meant to be doing later tonight, i.e. baby-sitting Tristan's adorable-but-also-annoying little sister, right?

Faith, taking a few seconds to admire her metallic gold nails, tapped absentmindedly on the screen, sending Tristan a quick text: what's your address? I can't babysit if I don't know where you live, mate. Unless you're too gangster to own a house and you're sleeping on the street, befriending sewer rats left and right.

It took a good minute before she received a reply, but it came in the form of Tristan's usual sarcastic snipe: second house on the right on Cameron Street, since it's a dead end road. And please, I thought you'd be the one doing a Snow White and befriending rats!

Faith sneered at her screen before realising that Tristan couldn't see her disdainful expression. Whoops, texting struggles? I don't because I have this thing called dignity, unlike you. Be there in ten, get ready for my awesomeness.

Oh, I'll be long gone before then, read Tristan's unperturbed reply.

Although she raised an eyebrow questioningly - did that mean that she wasn't going to be meeting Tristan yet? - she didn't question his enigmatic words, instead changing the subject. Do you want me to do a secret knock so your sister knows I'm not a murderer?

Goodness, was Faith actually being a bit humorous today?! Dang, that was new. Well, pshh, it wasn't like she wasn't funny in the first place- insert hair flip here, but it wasn't like her to joke around like this. Jeez, she needed to stop; otherwise she'd end up like Bill Nye the Science Guy or John Cena. Could you imagine Retina memes?!

Yeah, that's a good idea! Knock in the tune of Yankee Doodle.

You can't knock in a melody, Faith's text retorted jokingly.

Shush, little grasshopper. Just do it.

So you admit that you're wrong! I'm smart, right? Like graduated-high-school-at-thirteen smart. Oh wait, what a coincidence!

You're smart at being dumb. See you in a bit!

Correction: I won't see you in a bit, since I'll be long gone before you get here.

Smiling despite herself, she grabbed her already-packed purse and slung it over her shoulder. Grabbing a cream-coloured fur trim coat, since the weather seemed to be peeved off at Westerden today- it was storming with intent to maim, or seriously injure.

Stumbling slightly in the harsh wind which slapped her out of her thoughts, she made her way to the nearest bus stop. The next twenty or so minutes didn't properly register in her mind. For some reason, it had felt like Faith was in a weird trance... or maybe she drank too much alcohol? But that didn't make sense, she was underage!

Either way, before long, the bus had arrived on the street Tristan claimed to live on. Fighting against the wind to make it through the next fifty metres, she eventually found herself standing on his doorstep, facing a wooden door. Immediately after she raised a fist to tentatively knock Yankee Doodle, the door slowly creaked open by itself.

What the heck?

Was Tristan's house haunted by ghostly peanuts seeking revenge or something?! Oh God, yep, this was the day that marked her death. She was going to die. She was going to die without doing anything with her life! Without graduation high school with honors! Without meeting Tristan! Without- nope, never mind.

"Down here!" an excited voice snapped Faith out of her mortifying inner panic and mini eulogy. She glanced down in surprise to meet a pair of beautiful grey-blue eyes, paired with a pair of rosy flushed cheeks and finished off with rich, flowing brown hair.

Faith's surprised expression melted into a warm smile, which she was used to flashing at people, as she bent down and asked, "excuse me, princess! Are you Hope, the adorable and very beautiful little sister of a certain big brother named Tristan?"

Hope's bright smile grew even wider, clearly pleased to be referred to as a princess. "I sure am! You're Faith, aren't you? Tristy's girlfriend?"

"That's me," Faith's tone positively oozed sugar. She bent down even more until she was eye to eye with Hope, grey-blue meeting aquamarine in a beautiful wave of pretty, just the way Faith liked it. "Do you mind calling me something other than Faith, at least when we're around your brother? Like, a nickname or something?"

Thankfully, Hope didn't question her motives. "Sure! How about..." she put a small finger to her chin, thinking deeply. "Ooh, I'll call you Aurora! Because auroras are pretty!"

Faith grinned. "Aurora? I like that!" Hope beamed at Faith's approval in a typical little kid manner, before her gaze fixated on something behind her. If it was possible, Hope's smile grew even wider as she waved enthusiastically.

"Nice to see you're getting along, ladies!" a completely unfamiliar voice spoke behind Faith. She spun around on her heel and met twinkling brown eyes, along with a matching set of dark brown, effortlessly messy hair. "I hope I'm not crashing the party."

"No party's complete without ice cream, dude," Faith joked in a lighthearted tone, extending a hand to the guy that stood in front of her. "You're Fletcher, right?"

Fletcher observed her for a good ten seconds or so, before he broke out into a laugh and shook her hand. "Indeed, the one and only! And you're completely correct about the ice cream thing too, which is why-" he lifted a huge bag bulging with random possessions, "-we are going to be making our own!"

"Our own what?" Hope interjected.

Faith and Fletcher's glances both shifted to her in mild surprise, as they had both forgotten that she was there. Oh yeah, they were totally in the running of babysitters of the year! In fact, they were pretty much guaranteed to win, right?

Fletcher's voice took on a more charismatic, sugarcoated tone as he bent down to reply to Hope. "Our own ice cream, of course! What, did you think that I wouldn't come prepared, princess?" He looked back at Faith, giving her an over-exaggerated wink, causing her to hide a smile by cupping a hand around her mouth.

Hope gasped. "We're making ice cream?! You guys are the best babysitters ever!"

She reached out, fast as a viper, and hugged Faith and Fletcher at the highest points she could reach on each of them; Faith's waist and Fletcher's butt. The latter's face flushed crimson red, but he quickly laughed it off and knelt down to hug her properly.

"Um, I-I hate to be the one r-ruining the precious moment y-you guys are having here, but can we go inside?" Faith asked through chattering teeth, as Fletcher and Hope just seemed to realise the impact the frigid weather were having on the trio.

"Yeah, let's go in. I don't think ice cream can be made by a Fletcher-Popsicle, though I'm so hot that I can probably just melt the ice," Fletcher said thoughtfully. Blatantly ignoring an exasperated eye roll from Faith, he held his arm out for Hope. "Shall we?"

"We shall!" Hope said brightly.

Fletcher lead them inside Tristan's house- he had clearly visited the Tristan and Hope household before, because he seemed right at home here. Faith, on the other hand, was admiring the interior with her jaw on the ground, because woah, Tristan had the most fancy house she had ever seen!

Two velvety cream couches were strategically placed around the huge flat screen television, wrapped in a shroud of minimalistic ivory walls. The tabletop in front of the sofa was made of polished glass, so clean that Faith could make out every freckle on her cheek. White throw pillows were neatly arranged on the couches, creamy curtains open for a stream of cheerful sunlight to illuminate every detail.

It wasn't like Faith's family wasn't well off or anything, but this was the most stunning living room she had ever seen. Dang, if they had the phone number of the interior designer they hired, Faith wouldn't hesitate to 'borrow' them and work some Hogwarts-worthy magic!

Fletcher's voice snapped Faith out of her admiration. "Hope, could you do me a favour and start unpacking the stuff in my bag? Place them on the counter and grab some eggs, cream, sugar, vanilla extract, milk, that kind of stuff. And preferably in the kitchen, where there's a virtually soundproof door so you can't hear anything Faith and I will be saying?"

Hope frowned, but then shrugged and grabbed the bag Fletcher was holding out to her, bouncing into the kitchen and gently closing the door behind her. Once she was gone, Fletcher checked to see if the door was fully sealed, before turning to Faith. "So, hi!"

Faith scrunched up her face. "Er, hello?"

"Okay, now that we've got all the sappy boring introduction shit over with," Fletcher continued, "how's Tristan?"

Faith's expression was the epitome of mystification as she wondered where Fletcher was going with this. Hadn't he just said that they had finished their sappy little introduction? And she had yet to figure out what Tristan had to do with any of this. "What do you mean, how's Tristan? Tristan's good. He's your friend, isn't he?"

"Dude, that wasn't what I meant," Fletcher couldn't help but laugh at Faith's utter stupefaction. "I meant, how soon are the Traith fireworks exploding? Because I can't wait much longer, you know! I ship it a hell of a lot, Miss Faith."

Faith felt herself redden from the top of her scalp to the end of every toe- so basically, a tomato, without the whole being plump and edible part. "Um, what? Nothing's going on with me and Tristan! Nothing, I say! We're just friends! Just-"

"-Phone buddies?" Fletcher finished, rendering her speechless. "Look, me and Emily were 'phone buddies' at the beginning. Look what happened, I'm stuck with a sarcastic girlfriend who frequently tries to stab me with knives. What are the odds that the same thing will happen to you and Tristan?"

He then proceeded to seat himself on one of the couches, while Faith's face went from tomato-red to oh-my-God-we're-all-going-to-die-in-a-nuclear-explosion red. "Just because your thing became a thing, doesn't mean that mine and his thing will be a thing, okay? It'll never become a thing!"

Fletcher frowned. "What the fuck?"

Faith's sigh wasn't only for Fletcher's ignorance, but also for the fact that she knew she had already fallen into the deep dark void- Tartarus, per se, accompanied with a sea of eye drops. "Urgh, never mind. The truth is, I honestly don't know what's going on between me and Tristan. I may have feelings for him. May-be. But he's just such a peanut!"

"Maybe 'peanut' will be your always?" Fletcher asked suggestively, wriggling his eyebrows. Faith was immediately placed in a very torn dilemma of whether to strangle him with her bare hands or burst out laughing. After five seconds of total silence, they snickered in unison and started chortling.

Clearly because they didn't want to put a burden on Hope to explain how a seventeen year old high school student brutally murdered an almost twenty year old ice cream worker.

Wasn't that obvious to you?

Faith had never realised how much she needed a laugh and a good friend until she met Fletcher, who provided her with both. The ab-aching, hardly-able-to-breathe feeling of pure laughter was how she realised that she found one very annoying, but hilarious, friend for life. "Why is this so funny?!"

"God, I don't know!" Fletcher sparkling eyes were filled with humor. It took a minute for them to cool down, but when they did, Fletcher's expression turned serious. "I'm going to make sure that you and Tristan find your happily ever after, no matter what."

"We'll see, Fletcher. We'll see," Faith said softly, though they could both tell that she was very skeptical.

Fletcher stood up and beckoned Faith towards the stairs, which she hadn't noticed before, since they were hidden in the corner of the room. "Want to see some of Tristan's baby pictures? I promise that he was an adorable kid... who loved dumping milk over his own head," he said mischievously.

Faith grinned. "I'd be happy to accompany you down Tristan's memory lane, dear Fletcher."

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APOLOGIES FOR MAKING YOU READ THIS ABOMINATION BECAUSE IT 120% SUCKED.

Dear vindictive hate commenters, realism was not my intention for this story. Please go easy on me. Also, sorry for the inchoate plot! I honestly have no idea what I'm doing, every crevice of this story is as shallow as a kid's pool. I'm also losing my signature sense of humor and freaking out. I don't understand why my brain does this to me.