I quickly walk out of the room, wanting to get out of that situation as fast as possible. Walking towards the laundry room, I walk past the living room. I see the record player, unoccupied. I stare for a moment, but resume to the laundry room.

Connor's gotta learn to not.. do things like that.

Especially with OTHER people.

What if he's invited to a slumber party, and he doesn't bring any clothes, and then just walks around NAKED?

Wait, would Connor actually ever be invited to a slumber party?

.. Nah.

But isn't Connor like a super-smart android?

Why would he just show me his butt like that?

Did he.. want me to see?

Wow-what the fuck am I saying.

Before I even realize it, I'm in the laundry room digging for some of my dad's shorts. He leaves his clean clothes here so he doesn't have to bring it to his room, and then bring it right back once it's dirty. After a while of searching, only seeming to find shirts and colorful ties, I find grey lounge pants instead. I pick it up and take it with me.

Leaving the laundry room, I pass the living room once again, only this time, Connor is sitting down on the couch. He's turned around so he can't see me, but he probably heard me exit the laundry room.

I softly holler at him, "Connor,"

He turns his head swiftly, looking at me wave lounge shorts in my hand.

"These better be your size." I tease.

He gets up from the couch, ass being shown to the world, and to me as I quickly turn my eyes away.

"Thank you, (y/n)." Connor smiles.

He grabs the lounge pants and heads for the bathroom, me smiling awkwardly as he walks away. He enters the bathroom and shuts the door behind him. I let out a sigh as I head for the couch and sit on it, eventually beginning to slump into it.

I feel my eyelids begin to close, but just as I almost tread off to sleep, my eyes shift to the left side of the room where the record player is. I see this and get up, wanting to play some music.

I approach the record player and then turn to all the vinyl disks my dad has. I sift through all the vinyl covers my hand's touch, eyeing every cover I see.

Where is it..

C'mon..

...

Hmmm.. there!

I pull out a colorful vinyl holder, but it's mostly a greyish blue with yellow text on it.

The yellow text reads: God Bless Tiny Tim

My dad hates this album. Hates Tiny Tim in general. He was a man of God who always preached about his belief, which was Catholicism.

My dad doesn't buy into that shit, obviously. He's a full-on atheist who'd probably beat the shit out of God if he ever saw him, and I don't blame him.

Now, I'm not quite religious, but even though Tiny Tim was, his music is still enjoyable to me. A strong and very high falsetto belonging to a man with an insanely deep voice was interesting.

The songs he sang were rarely his own, most of them being covers of other songs, but they were still oddly pleasing to listen to.

I grab the vinyl from inside the vinyl holder and place it on the record player, waiting to hear his soft yet high falsetto.

The playing of a piano introduces itself as the vinyl begins to move clockwise. As I watch it spin and slowly begin to smile, I hear a door open from behind me. I turn my head to look behind me and I see Connor, holding the shorts he ripped, now wearing the lounge pants I found.

"Did you rip the lounge pants, too?" I ask mockingly but smiling at him.

He lets out a little giggle, but I don't know if it's out of embarrassment or a genuine understanding of how silly it was when he showed me his ripped shorts along with his ass.

"Tch, no," He smiles. "At least not yet."

I'm glad they fit.

I can't help but smile myself. At least he isn't putting himself down for it.

That's one thing we don't have in common.

Connor begins walking over to me, "What're you listening to?"

"Oh," I turn around and grab the vinyl holder and give it to Connor. He takes the vinyl holder and reads it, seeming to scan it as I see his LED change from blue to yellow, and back to blue again. He hands it back to me.

"I didn't think Hank listened to this sort of stuff." He says, sounding puzzled.

"You're right, he doesn't," I say, placing the vinyl holder down next to me, resting on top of the other vinyl holders. "I do."