[rivaille]

It was a pair from his mother, as silly as it sounded. Yes, he still wore them, no, he was not a mama's boy. A frown crossed his face and it nearly morphed into a pout.

There were reasons why one was not supposed to tell others about their clothes, of all things.

The first time he wore them was when he graduated from high school. It was a strange graduation gift, one that didn't make any sense then and still didn't make any sense now, once he thought about it. His mother wasn't exactly one to give normal gifts, though; at the time he shrugged and passed it off as one of her weird presents, like that ghost-shaped money bank from his thirteenth birthday. (Not to mention that it wasn't even anywhere close to Halloween, let alone October).

He lost count of how many times he had worn them after graduation, but two years later, in his university dorm, he peered at the soft, forest green fabric, and saw the beginnings of a hole starting to form. He stopped for a moment, pondering the significance of this, before shaking his head and slipping the socks on. At least they were still warm.

A few weeks later, he stared at the sock in surprise and slight dismay. There was a hole in it now, one where his big toe normally rested. He discovered it after slipping his shoes off one night, wriggling his toe around at the strange, airy feeling from the hole. It was a typical spot, he supposed, and mildly wondered if it could be patched. Then he blanched and placed the sock, along with its partner, on the table, flopping on the bed.

He would deal with it in the morning.

....Or so he thought, as he stared at the piece of clothing, many months after the first discovery. For some odd reason, he could not bring himself to throw the sock away. It sat on his desk innocently, although cleaner than it had been months before. He had taken the liberty of washing the holed sock anyway, although exactly why he did it was beyond him. He crossed his arms across his chest and tilted his head this way and that. Was there something special about this sock? Maybe it was a fancy brand that cost a small fortune, and he could sell it on the Internet? The ideas passed as quickly as they came, and he shook his head. He wasn't that intuitive.

With a sigh, he reached for the sock again, deciding to throw it away once and for all. His hand stopped just centimeters away from the sock and his fingers twitched. A frown again. 'Well, maybe I'll do my homework first,' he thought, standing up to fetch his backpack abruptly.

He paused to stare at the sock and scratched his head almost apologetically. 'Strange.'

A week later, and the sock was still there.

He sank down to his knees in frustration. 'There has got to be something seriously wrong with me,' he mused, rubbing his chin. He shot a glare at the sock and sighed. 'Maybe I'm overreacting. It's just a sock. Just a sock that I got from Mom almost three years ago-' He paused. 'Mom?'

He pursed his lips and looked up at the ceiling absentmindedly. 'Come to think of it, I haven't called her in a while.' He glanced at the sock, and then raised an eyebrow. His phone was plugged in by his bed, charging. He reached for it, taking it off the charger and scrolling through his contacts. There.

He waited patiently through the dial tone, hoping that she would pick up. A click, and then: "Hello?"

A smile crossed his face and he sat on the bed, poking a finger through the hole of the sock. "Hello? Mom?"

..........

A day later, the sock (and its companion, he felt that it would be wrong to separate them) found itself placed in the trashcan of the boy's room.

-- END.

A/N: wow this meant to be a drabble but nope I guess not

[THE TRUE JIN]

updated

+ 20 points. Please update your points tracker.

I enjoyed reading it anyways.