The former god awoke from his slumber, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he sat upright in his bed.
He peered out into the darkness he knew as his room, and sighed deeply to himself as he rose from his warm cavern known as where he slept.
The golden man yawned as he picked up a tinderbox and struck it, a small flame emitting from it as he placed it by a candle.
He blew out the tinderbox flame as the candle's light bloomed across his bedside, illuminating a section of the wardrobe that stood by the bed.
He lazily shook his bright golden hair out of his eyes as he adjusted his boxers that seemed to be falling off.
Slowly, he opened the closet, making sure no horrors were to pounce out at him. After assuring himself that the closet was safe, he grabbed a shimmering golden robe and matching headpiece.
He dressed himself with the help from the light of his candle, making sure he wasn't to topple over from tripping over his own clothing.
It was early for the Frenchman, but he knew he had to wait for him.
For his bro.
After he slipped on his robe, he staggered over to a section of shattered glass he used as a mirror and adjusted his hair. He pulled it back into a simple pony tail, leaving some stray strands close to his eyes. Fixing his head piece over his head, he nodded before going back to the wardrobe and pulling a pair of matching golden jester shoes.
It would seem as if the Frenchman was obsessed with the golden color, his skin being a mere lighter shade than his outfit. But he knew better.
He knew the former golden god was a statue humanized to help him escape.
As the golden man reviewed himself in the mirror, he grinned inwardly to himself, knowing that he would be coming soon.
He grabbed his candle and made his way to a small desk. Plopping down on the crimson cushioned chair, he placed the candle gently on the desk, as if it were to break on contact.
He sighed as he rested his long legs on the lecturn, watching as the flames danced on the wick.
Hours passed by, the old grandfather clock chiming at each hour.
How does that still function? He had pondered, seeking for the answer in his memory.
As each hour passed by, the golden man grew more and more impatient.
Did he forget about me?
He grew antsy, pacing back and forth in his room, wondering if he should progress ahead to see if he was already ahead. The candle wick had long ran out, causing the Frenchman to light the lantern he kept for emergencies.
Feeling defeated, he turned the chair towards the door and slumped into it once more. Pulling out his golden sword, he looked at his own reflection, his golden eyes glistening back. The lantern rested on the desk, allowing the room to be lit in a gloomy glow.
Then he heard it.
First it was faint, before it began to ring out, bouncing off the walls and into the former god's ears.
. . . And then laughter.
He rose to his feet just as the door swung open, crystal blue eyes staring at him through dirty blonde hair. A pair of black headphones rested on his head as he stared at the golden man before him and grinned.
The next line that escaped from the Frenchman's mouth were soothing, caring, as if he were conversing with a young child. Yet, his words were loyal, and held confidence all at once.
"I waited for you PewDie."