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"Okay, uh...Boyfriend, say these words."

The speech therapist pointed at some posters on the wall. Boyfriend did just that.

"Bo beep, boop bop!" he sang.

The speech therapist glared at him and covered her face. She eyed you who sat next to him. You rubbed Boyfriend's back. Boyfriend looked confused.

You laughed and sighed at his reaction. "Boyfriend, you're supposed to...pronounce the words. Like, say it! Just like this: DJ, music, beatbox, and radio! Words that you recognize!"

Boyfriend nodded. "Bo beep, boop bop, bop bop...bap boop!"

The lady stood up and walked out of her office. You and Boyfriend were left surprised, just for the fact she just ragequitted quietly. Who wouldn't after trying to help him for months? Well, you tried. You were hoping Boyfriend can break out of his "bopeepo" speech and speak the actual language. Unfortunately, the future's not looking as bright.

You got up and left, thanking the speech therapist for her time. You walked outside with Boyfriend out in the big city. It was practically empty due to the baseball game a few blocks down. Traffic from there can be heard, people screaming and honking their horns at each other.

Boyfriend caught up with your speedy pace, unable to understand your hurry. "Beep bo wassup?"

"I suppose we'll get some surgery done to your vocals," you grumbled. "It'll have to come out of my paycheck, again."

The boy with light blue hair felt disappointed in himself, but was it his fault he could only speak brokenly? No. You couldn't blame him. His ex traumatized the crap out of him one day and he just backed out. And for the fact his childhood will forever remain unknown.
It was tough being a couple years older than Boyfriend. You were working on a degree into something you were interested in, you worked a job demanding constant interaction with people, college debt was starting to build up, and at this rate, it's just tempting to give up and live the street life. Or go back to living with your parents. You didn't really want that for reasons of your own.

You and your cool boyfriend made it to the hospital. You had surgery done on the spot for him, impatient to hear his actual voice. As you waited in the boring waiting room with a fashion magazine, a girl sat next to you. Her mother grumbled something into her ear and left off with a surgeon. You didn't bother looking up, exhausted from trying to translate Boyfriend.

The girl fumbled with her fingers, clicked her heels, and played with a lock of auburn. You were growing annoyed by it.

"Hey, everything all good?" you asked, finally looking up.

The girl sighed and hugged her long, bouncy hair. She had peach skin with dark eyes and wore a red dress and red high heels, but both seemed a bit too big on her. "My mom's getting some implants in. The doctor said it was going to be a bit risky since with all the implants she's gotten, well, who knows what it'll do to her body?"

You nodded and understood. "Yeah, I totally get that. Heck, who knows if they screw up something in surgery? My friend's getting his vocals fixed since he can't speak fluently."

She gave you a funny look. You should probably go into detail of that.

"What I mean by that is his vocals didn't really, like, grow properly." You avoided calling him your boyfriend, not wanting anyone trying to infiltrate your relationship with him. You've had that happened twice and you promised it wasn't going to happen again. You were, after all, in the big city of Bigg. You didn't understand why the city couldn't be named something else. But not the point you were trying to make.

"Gotcha," the girl responded.

Both of you were awkwardly quiet for a moment. Then, the girl looked over your arms and read the magazine. You rose a brow at her, inquisitively.

"What magazine is this?" she asked. "Just curious, by the way."

You flipped to the front cover briefly. "Red Spice, why?"

The girl gasped. "My mom's magazine was successful!"

"...your mom's a model?"

"Yup!"

Your eyes widened. "She's the one getting surgery!"

The girl nodded. You slumped in your seat and scratched the back of your head. "Wow... That's cool! I hope surgery goes well for her!"

The door burst open and the girl's mother walked out. You almost jumped back from her towering height and...wait a moment, was the girl wearing her clothes? Those clothes look extremely tight on her mom... It made you very uncomfortable to the level of "I want my boyfriend and I want out of here."

The mother looked very dizzy as a pair of surgeons tried pulling her back inside. "M- ma'am! Just lay back and-"

"NO!" she roared. "I...I'm fine...! I c-can't let anyone s-see the bruises before th...they show up!"

The girl stood up and rushed to her mom. You noticed how the mother's skin was lavender and had a demon-like face. You narrowed your brows....why does her daughter look like a normal, human being? You didn't care enough to know.

The girl helped her mom as some cuts became visible on her sides, her dress going black. She looked at you and waved. "It was nice talking to you, uh..."

"(Y/N)!" you replied. You didn't mind her company. Might as well become acquaintances since she was nice to you. "And yours?"

"Uh...Delilah!" she said. Her mom almost fell forwards in her black, high heel boots. Delilah caught her and said, "TTYL!"

You waved as she guided her mom out of the room, assuring her everything's going to be alright. Would everything be alright after getting those implants? That was a question you may not know for a while.

Boyfriend slipped out as soon as the door closed behind Delilah. You put the magazine back underneath the table and greeted him with a big hug. You noticed a big band-aid on the side of his neck as he smiled happily at you.

"Hey! How are you doing?" you asked.

The surgeon approached you. "About that, he won't be able to talk for a few days. Give his body time to heal and adjust to the new formation of his vocals. No singing, no talking, not even whispering!"

You slumped your shoulders and hung your head. Dang. Surgery sucks either way. Oh well, you can wait. Ignoring what the surgeon said about how much it would cost, you were happy that Boyfriend was okay.

Description
"Okay, uh...Boyfriend, say these words."

The speech therapist pointed at some posters on the wall. Boyfriend did just that.

"Bo beep, boop bop!" he sang.

The speech therapist glared at him and covered her face. She eyed you who sat next to him. You rubbed Boyfriend's back. Boyfriend looked confused.

You laughed and sighed at his reaction. "Boyfriend, you're supposed to...pronounce the words. Like, say it! Just like this: DJ, music, beatbox, and radio! Words that you recognize!"

Boyfriend nodded. "Bo beep, boop bop, bop bop...bap boop!"

The lady stood up and walked out of her office. You and Boyfriend were left surprised, just for the fact she just ragequitted quietly. Who wouldn't after trying to help him for months? Well, you tried. You were hoping Boyfriend can break out of his "bopeepo" speech and speak the actual language. Unfortunately, the future's not looking as bright.

You got up and left, thanking the speech therapist for her time. You walked outside with Boyfriend out in the big city. It was practically empty due to the baseball game a few blocks down. Traffic from there can be heard, people screaming and honking their horns at each other.

Boyfriend caught up with your speedy pace, unable to understand your hurry. "Beep bo wassup?"

"I suppose we'll get some surgery done to your vocals," you grumbled. "It'll have to come out of my paycheck, again."

The boy with light blue hair felt disappointed in himself, but was it his fault he could only speak brokenly? No. You couldn't blame him. His ex traumatized the crap out of him one day and he just backed out. And for the fact his childhood will forever remain unknown.
It was tough being a couple years older than Boyfriend. You were working on a degree into something you were interested in, you worked a job demanding constant interaction with people, college debt was starting to build up, and at this rate, it's just tempting to give up and live the street life. Or go back to living with your parents. You didn't really want that for reasons of your own.

You and your cool boyfriend made it to the hospital. You had surgery done on the spot for him, impatient to hear his actual voice. As you waited in the boring waiting room with a fashion magazine, a girl sat next to you. Her mother grumbled something into her ear and left off with a surgeon. You didn't bother looking up, exhausted from trying to translate Boyfriend.

The girl fumbled with her fingers, clicked her heels, and played with a lock of auburn. You were growing annoyed by it.

"Hey, everything all good?" you asked, finally looking up.

The girl sighed and hugged her long, bouncy hair. She had peach skin with dark eyes and wore a red dress and red high heels, but both seemed a bit too big on her. "My mom's getting some implants in. The doctor said it was going to be a bit risky since with all the implants she's gotten, well, who knows what it'll do to her body?"

You nodded and understood. "Yeah, I totally get that. Heck, who knows if they screw up something in surgery? My friend's getting his vocals fixed since he can't speak fluently."

She gave you a funny look. You should probably go into detail of that.

"What I mean by that is his vocals didn't really, like, grow properly." You avoided calling him your boyfriend, not wanting anyone trying to infiltrate your relationship with him. You've had that happened twice and you promised it wasn't going to happen again. You were, after all, in the big city of Bigg. You didn't understand why the city couldn't be named something else. But not the point you were trying to make.

"Gotcha," the girl responded.

Both of you were awkwardly quiet for a moment. Then, the girl looked over your arms and read the magazine. You rose a brow at her, inquisitively.

"What magazine is this?" she asked. "Just curious, by the way."

You flipped to the front cover briefly. "Red Spice, why?"

The girl gasped. "My mom's magazine was successful!"

"...your mom's a model?"

"Yup!"

Your eyes widened. "She's the one getting surgery!"

The girl nodded. You slumped in your seat and scratched the back of your head. "Wow... That's cool! I hope surgery goes well for her!"

The door burst open and the girl's mother walked out. You almost jumped back from her towering height and...wait a moment, was the girl wearing her clothes? Those clothes look extremely tight on her mom... It made you very uncomfortable to the level of "I want my boyfriend and I want out of here."

The mother looked very dizzy as a pair of surgeons tried pulling her back inside. "M- ma'am! Just lay back and-"

"NO!" she roared. "I...I'm fine...! I c-can't let anyone s-see the bruises before th...they show up!"

The girl stood up and rushed to her mom. You noticed how the mother's skin was lavender and had a demon-like face. You narrowed your brows....why does her daughter look like a normal, human being? You didn't care enough to know.

The girl helped her mom as some cuts became visible on her sides, her dress going black. She looked at you and waved. "It was nice talking to you, uh..."

"(Y/N)!" you replied. You didn't mind her company. Might as well become acquaintances since she was nice to you. "And yours?"

"Uh...Delilah!" she said. Her mom almost fell forwards in her black, high heel boots. Delilah caught her and said, "TTYL!"

You waved as she guided her mom out of the room, assuring her everything's going to be alright. Would everything be alright after getting those implants? That was a question you may not know for a while.

Boyfriend slipped out as soon as the door closed behind Delilah. You put the magazine back underneath the table and greeted him with a big hug. You noticed a big band-aid on the side of his neck as he smiled happily at you.

"Hey! How are you doing?" you asked.

The surgeon approached you. "About that, he won't be able to talk for a few days. Give his body time to heal and adjust to the new formation of his vocals. No singing, no talking, not even whispering!"

You slumped your shoulders and hung your head. Dang. Surgery sucks either way. Oh well, you can wait. Ignoring what the surgeon said about how much it would cost, you were happy that Boyfriend was okay.