As I stood in front of my home after a little bit of walking, Thomas was standing nearly right beside me, staring at its apparent size in awe. He must've never seen a mansion before. I didn't even know there was one in this town, but I guess surprises always happen in these small cities.

I was scared to nudge him. He did look like a venomous spider in that sleep state or whatever that's called. At the same time, he did look pretty fluffy and blanket-like, but I think that's just the fur. This is so bizarre, but I'm already getting used to it, somehow. It's weirdly natural for him to look like that from the time I've spent with him. If anything, he in his human state would look weirder than what he appears like now.

After watching him gawk at my place, I casually pulled out the keys to the gate separating us from the mansion and unlocked it. My house was around three stories tall with a couple of pillars holding the second floor's balcony up. It was primarily painted white on the outside, which contrasted the many windows that dotted most of the mansion's skin. Even if Thomas is in such awe from it, it's a very generic, everyday large, expensive home. It's like those you might see in the background of a movie or masked by the boring atmosphere of a suburb. I don't get why someone would be so enthralled by it. All it is is just another mansion, to be frank.

Once I made my way to the front of the building and opened the door for Thomas, he gave me a wide-eyed look before glancing between the mansion and then back to me. I suppressed the urge to laugh at his expression, playing with the doorknob in my hand while I waited for him. He took a step toward me, his legs jittering and his lower set of arms hugging himself. Mansions aren't that intimidating, yet I guess I can see why a small town connoisseur would never get used to walking into what's essentially a huge house.

Finally, he got to my doorstep after a millennium and a half, his arms clinging to himself, all six of them wrapped around his vibrating body. I chuckled, "You really shouldn't take so long𑁋"

Thomas pressed a finger to his lips with his rightmost open hand, shushing me swiftly. He continued to sluggishly step through the front door, still embracing himself tightly. As he entered, I followed him inside, shutting the door behind me, dropping my bookbag beside the door.

The inside lobby was grandiose and expansive yet it was sparsely decorated. On the pristine tile floor with a black and white checkerboard pattern laid a few random wooden tables; a few small, framed pictures; and a couple of tall lamps that barely stood over the towering set of stairs that could easily crush a human with its powerful boots shaped like rectangular prisms. The stairs were positioned on the right upon entering, pressing against the gigantic wall of the lobby and the second floor's marble ground. There was a red carpet on the staircase, though it appeared torn in half and wrinkled to oblivion, mainly because I never clean places that aren't my room. A chandelier hangs high from the ground, stuck to the ceiling like impenetrable glue. Doors could be seen on the left, on each wall of the second floor, and beside the stairs, all painted white to match the bland hue of the walls. It probably would've looked much richer if it weren't for my inability to decorate. Despite how big of a spectacle everything here is, most of my money comes to keeping the house with my own job's pay, not from my parents whatsoever. They can't pay for it anyway. The same goes for all of the furniture. Only I paid for it all. My sister isn't old enough to have a job herself yet, so it's not like she could help.

My eyes curiously drew themselves to Thomas, whose eyes were switching between being wide-eyed and squinting, a switch being flicked on and off whilst fighting to understand. I nudged him gently with my shoulder, causing him to jump back, staring at me with a clear expression of utter confusion. "You're... you are rich, right?" Thomas questioned, his arms unfurling in a temporary kaleidoscope of thick, fluffy pink limbs, causing his bag to fall off of his shoulder.

"Uh... technically, yeah," I answered honestly. "My job pays the house bills."

"The mansion bills," Thomas huffed. "Don't your parents pay for this thing?"

"Guess they tried to..." My voice ran off towards the end. I'll try not to tell him, for now.

"...Okay then," Thomas stepped toward the center of the lobby, under the chandelier. "So are we gonna get to your dream now? I𑁋"

"I could help you to dinner," I offered.

"And why?"

"It's not even close to nighttime. We could just... do something 'till then."

"...Spencer, I came to look into your dreams𑁋"

"Then why come over here right after school?" I crossed my arms, grinning.

"I... okay, fine," Thomas rolled his eyes, which quickly made me laugh. "There are just some days when you can't deal with stuff at home, so I took the offer to come immediately. You also told me to follow you. I didn't expect you to invite me in, or invite me to dinner."

"You kinda walked in yourself."

"You opened the door."

"And you didn't tell me you didn't wanna go?" I snickered.

"...Fine. Yes. Please give me dinner. I'd love to eat dinner with a stranger," Thomas puffed with a particular tone in his voice that was oddly adorable, despite its sassy inflictions.

"I mean, how else are you meant to make friends?" I hummed.

"I... guess," Thomas sighed, his many eyes glancing around the room. "Where's your kitchen?"

"Dining room," I corrected as I stepped toward one of the double doors on the left side of the room. I gripped my hand on one and flicked it open. "Oh, right," Thomas sighed. "Mansions have too many rooms, so they have dining rooms and kitchens."

"You aren't wrong," I shrugged, opening the door for him. "I'd love a smaller place."

"I would too," Thomas muttered as he quietly and daintily stepped inside the dining room. I followed him reactively.

There was only a single table in that room. It did fill up almost the whole room and it clearly matched with the interior of marble and pearl white yet it all was dull glory, yet it merely blended in. Four chairs were present, all bundled up on one side of the table on the left side. Despite how big the table is, it was clear almost nobody sat at it, and especially not an entire family. Hopefully, Thomas doesn't catch on to anything, though if he's smart, I guess he would eventually.

Thomas began wandering around the expansive area, twirling about and stroking the table as if he was touching soft silk. His hands were everywhere, feeling all that was around him as he frolicked to the end of the table. "I'm assuming the kitchen is over there?" He blinked, looking over toward the set of doors at the other side of the room from me.

"Yeah," I nodded, walking over to him. "Do you like feeling things?"

"I... er, do," Thomas nodded. "It lets me know what it feels like when I'm temporarily allowed to be able to feel things."

"Then what does marble feel like?"

"Mmm... marble," He giggled.

I rolled my eyes, heading over to the kitchen doors. "Any specific feelings?"

"It's surprisingly smooth, for a mansion in disarray."

"Has your shock changed to something else?" I asked curiously. He did seem much happier than I anticipated as if he was getting comfortable with the big space. If anything, I'm the surprised person now. After all, I'm getting comfy speaking to a spiderman. A pink spiderman. That makes me curious if he can shoot webs like the red and blue Spider-Man too.

"...Eh. I guess so," Thomas shrugged, following me to the door. "The shock factor's worn off. It's still weird being here, but it is becoming less uncomfy."

"...Interesting," I chuckled as I opened the door for him. "Would you live here?"

"No," Thomas immediately answered, walking inside. Rolling my eyes, I went in alongside him.

It was funny seeing Thomas's jaw drop and his eyes enlarge again. It was a dimly lit area filled with brown tiles and low-hanging lights. Various metallic counters and stoves shone in the shy fluorescent glow of the light above that were arranged to produce a cube maze that a kid would likely get lost inside. One would likely believe that this kitchen belonged in one of those reality cooking television shows filled with loud, screaming men and open flames. Maybe that's how my parents got so rich, making an incredibly successful reality TV show. show. I sometimes wished I knew more about them.

Thomas, after shaking his head a few times, turned his head over to face me, his expression still smothered with remnants of shock. "H-how can you find anything here?" He stammered, all eight of his eyes fluttering faintly yet swiftly.

"I mainly use just one of the cabinets," I shrugged, kneeling in front of one of the closest metal doors to me. Upon opening it up, Thomas instantly began laughing uproariously. Within the doors were a few boxes of cereal and a few cans of microwavable food, silently seated in their places, standing still inside its cubical. "I kinda expected more than just... that," He grinned, caging any extra laughter with one of his hands.

"As I said, I pay the mansion bills," I smirked, recalling his correction. I'm glad that made him laugh more.

I pulled out a couple of cans of spaghetti (the kind shaped like circles) and set them beside a cheap microwave. After pulling out a couple of matching bowls, Thomas spoke once again, "You know, for being rich and all, you and your family don't have a lot of stuff."

"My, uh... parents aren't here to do anything," I replied. "So I do everything. It's kind of my responsibility."

"It's a lot of responsibility to handle a gigantic house all on your own," Thomas crossed his arsenal of arms. "Can't your parents help you financially when they're... where are your parents?"

"Oh, they're just out of the country," I chuckled. "They did give me money, a lot of it, but I don't ever use it."

"Why?"

"Because I wouldn't be able to handle anything on my own."

"Aren't you struggling?"

"No," I am, but it'll get him off my case, for now.

Thomas looked down as I put a bowl filled with one of the can's contents inside the microwave, muttering, "You don't have a lot of food though... or anything. Does your job pay you well?"

"Enough for me to afford the mansion monthly," I responded quietly.

"But not enough for you to sustain yourself?"

"I have enough𑁋"

"You obviously don't."

Wow, this kid won't stop worrying about me. "Look, I'm fine. If I wasn't fine, I wouldn't be here right now, right?" I sighed as the microwave beeped. I replaced my bowl with what would soon be Thomas'. "So calm down. I'm fine," I crossed my arms. "Why do you seem to care?"

"It's just... surprising," Thomas answered, his arms dropping to his sides. "I apologize if I seem brash, but I thought you needed help."

"I don't need any help," My eyes shot to the beeping microwave once more. I pulled his food out of the microwave and handed him the bowl. "Here," I smiled.

"Thanks," He sheepishly snatched the bowl from me, seemingly able to handle the heat radiating from its plastic. "Heh, the bowls look cheap too."

"Just how I roll," I snickered as I took mine and headed over to the doors to the dining room. I opened both with a single kick of a foot and left the leftmost door open with a heel. "Here you go."

"Thank you... again," Thomas softly laughed, as if trying to suppress it all this time.

"You're welcome," I quietly spoke.

"You're really nice..." He mumbled before passing by.

"You are too," I complimented back under my breath, watching him go while shutting the door behind me. Even with how much he pressed, there was an odd warmth seeing this fluffy spider dude walking about with enough arms to hug himself three times simultaneously and the mass of many eyes that seem to silently see everything I can't see myself. Thomas, as he daintily seated himself in one of the few chairs that laid there, had a content aura swirling around his cutesy mortal coil happily. Maybe he sees my hospitality as weird, but he is not only my guest but a temporary jigsaw piece that completes a puzzle that I never thought once to complete before. A figurative jigsaw piece. He'd be a pretty weirdly shaped jigsaw piece, wouldn't he?

I sat beside him, setting my bowl of food on the table in front of me, and when I glanced to see him, he looked back to me, each of his eyes widened slightly, even the beady ones that were neatly placed in spots around the left and bottom corners of his main eyes, the same with the opposing side. "What?"

"I should invite you over more," I told him, smiling. Hopefully, he doesn't find that weird.