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Realistic or Modern hollowed out pianos ¿#? s&c

"ow, ow, ow!" a feminine screech fills the dreary-grey room as a clatter of wood meeting tile echoes in the empty hallway outside. the cry snaps in the air just once, leaving a low but consistent tuk, tuk, tuktuktuktuk reverberating from the high, curved ceilings in its trail.

below and inside, a stunned raven-haired girl collides with the cold floor, landing on her haunches. she blinks up at her assailant with big, blue eyes and is met with a flustered sight clutching her dark locks in front of her mouth.

the girl still seated—on clean, white bedding—nibbles at the smooth flesh inside her lip, an adorably concerned furrow between her brows. "i'm sorry..." she finally murmurs, glancing at the legs still sprawled on the floor. "it hurt." she isn't pouting but her voice went small and child-like, and the girl who'd been kicked in the side and hurled to the ground just moments earlier, can't find it in herself to keep up even a veneer of displeasure upon hearing it.

she pushes herself up, flattening her skirt down with both hands before resting one on a cocked hip. "is this how you repay others, alix?" there's a fondness softening her features. she rolls her eyes, back to her dark-haired friend—alix—when she hears another fumbled "sorry, sorry" while fetching the gauze and placing the stained bottle of rubbing alcohol back in its empty spot in the medical cabinet. "remind me how your hands and knees ended up in this state?"

that makes alix look up, instinctively flexing her hands to feel the sting of torn skin. she looks to her left, past the boring, pale curtains of the infirmary and at the dry but sweeping willow tree in their courtyard. "i saw a bird," she explains, "it was a baby bird about to become cat food. i couldn't just let it surrender to its fate, nami."

nami—short for nanami—simply smiles at the admission, tying the white gauze securely around alix's knee then tugging it for good measure. "and then you literally slipped and landed yourself in detention." her voice rings clear with a hint of a taunting simper. she leans back, giving alix space to get on her feet before standing up herself. like this, eye to eye, nanami was a couple inches shorter than the alix but then again, there were only a handful of students here who matched her height (like their senior aubrey, nanami almost shivers at the name, that woman has to reaching six feet).

"ah, it's okay!" alix brushes it off, already heading for the door. "at least i got off with gym duty. that's doable. i don't think i would've survived spending the evening in misss fawcett's office writing an apology essay." she fake gags and nanami chuckles, crossed her arms under her chest. what are we going to do with you, she smiles quietly, waving back at alix as she makes an exit. nanami moves a couple footsteps, reaching to place the stools and medicine box back in order when she hears a familiar yell from down the hallway: "thank you for your help, nami!" what are we going to do with her indeed.

***​

alix is far from the model student her good friend nami is, but she's also not a total delinquent and can actually count on one hand the total number of detentions she's received ever since she started high school here two years ago. the blemish on her record would have otherwise left her frowning the whole day, but right now she's in a surprisingly good mood, skipping across the yard with her hands behind her back.

it was worth it, wasn't it? she slows to an unhurried saunter as she nears the entrance to their grand gym. totally. not only did she manage to save a baby bird's life but she also made mr finch—their resident groundskeeper—grin with joy when she handed the sparrow for him to temporarily care after. they don't have many male staff members here so any company would be good company as he'd once told her.

there's already voices brimming inside. alix peeks in from the corner and already recognises a couple faces mopping the floors and cleaning the equipment. "how can i help?" she asks with an airy lilt to her voice, approaching the teacher in charge of their group who quickly flips through her clipboard before assigning alix with clearing out their storage shed. oh, so they're going to be here a while. alix glances at the large clock above head, 4:03... and secretly hopes, as trudging as this work is too, they're here long enough to miss self-study time entirely.

"you don't have to worry, miss hill, there's a sophomore working with you. miss chambers will be right your way when she decides to grace us with her presence." her partner's name is hissed through grit teeth and alix distantly wonders what this kid possibly did to aggravate the teacher this much. it's none of her business, she decides, hollering at one of her friends to toss her a dusting cloth before she's making her way out of the gym and back to where the lonely shed stands.


softlysage softlysage
 
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Parents are stupid. Classmates are stupid. Teachers are stupid. Everybody is stupid, stupid, stupid!

Dion storms through the hallway, footsteps harsh and pounding against cool tile floor. His grip on the strap of his book bag tightens until his knuckles turn white, fingernails digging hard into his palms and leaving bloody half-moon marks behind. He can feel it — a thin layer of the sticky, metallic substance staining the tips of his fingers red. It's going to hurt later, when his anger subsides, but he actually welcomes the feeling now. It distracts him from the overwhelming urge to take his anger out on someone else. He pushes his fingers deeper into the flesh.

He knows he's being a baby about this. Detention is the most stupid thing to get this upset over, and it isn't the first time he has been punished over something stupid. He doesn't even know why he's so upset. That's the awful part. It'd be easier to handle if he could just explain away the annoyance, anger, and the burning tears that make his vision blurry, but he can't because there really is no logical reason that it affects him this deeply. I'm just having a bad day, he tries to reason with himself, but the thought just makes him more annoyed. It's such a childish reason . . .

He hears the sound of voices even before he opens the door. There's one that stands out to him — light and airy, eager to help despite the situation. He recognizes that voice. Alix Hill. He doesn't know her very well, because the only time he had spoken to her was two weeks ago when he had snapped at a girl out of frustration because he had a headache and she was being loud. Alix had yelled at him for it, calling him a terrible person even though he was going to apologize immediately afterwards and the only reason he hadn't was because she had interrupted him.

Dion had managed to apologize to the girl later, thankfully, and she wasn't too upset at him. She actually seemed a lot more embarrassed at someone else sweeping into save her when she could have handled it by herself.

Oh. . . he realizes slowly as the conversation goes on. He's supposed to be working with her. He sighs heavily, wondering briefly if it would be worth it to just turn around and go to his dorm before deciding that no, it won't. Teachers are strict. If he doesn't show up, one of them will inevitably show up and drag him to detention against his will. It's happened before. So after an entire three minutes of hesitation and preparing himself for the worst, he steps into the gym. The hell that awaits him there.

The teacher in charge of the group is the one who had given him detention. She's an old woman with a face that looks simultaneously saggy and all pinched-up, granting her an uncanny sort of look that makes him want to shudder. She reminds him a lot of that teacher from that one horror video game. She's just as terrifying. The only difference is that she can't stretch her neck like some kind of rubber demon, as far as he knows.

"Ah, Miss Chambers," she greets him with a glare, looking down her nose at him. He stares back up at her with the same disgusted expression that she gives him. "How. . . nice of you to finally grace us with your presence. You'll be working with —"

"Alix. Shed." He interrupts her, walking past without so much as a second glance. "I know, I was listening. Bye." He needs to get away from her immediately. He's never been good at keeping his thoughts to himself, especially when he's upset, and telling a teacher that she looks like something uncanny and terrifying might not be the best thing to do when he already has detention, even if her reaction would be absolutely hilarious. He'll just tell her later.

Alix is already in the storage shed when he steps in, a dusting cloth in her hands. It's only now that he realizes he doesn't have any cleaning supplies. Oops. He should probably go back and get some, but he takes a moment to look around. The shed is disgusting, spiderwebs in every corner of the room and dead bugs scattered around the ground. Everything seems to be covered in a thick layer of dust. Everything else at school is impeccably clean, so what's the deal with this? And another thing. . .

"Hey," he says, leaning casually against the wall. A spiderweb pushes against the back of his uniform dress, but he doesn't particularly care. "How'd you get detention?" The words come out incredulous and disbelieving, and perhaps a little bit ruder than he intended, but he can't help but be shocked. Alix isn't someone he has ever seen in detention before. She's the kind of girl that teachers like; a polite, upbeat, goody-two-shoes to the max. How'd she managed to land herself here?
 
alix reaches into the pocket of her uniform to pull out a white handkerchief. it was originally nanami's but alix knows close to nothing about personal space when it comes to her closer circle of friends so when she'd borrowed it once and nanami never asked for it back... well, that just means its hers now, right? she'd even been thinking about decorating it with some coloured cross-stich patterns but for now, she shoves it in front of her nose and mouth to protect her breath from the grime coating thick in the dark shed.

click, clack she fingers the light switch, not really surprised to find it busted. she sighs, sliding the shed door as far wide as possible to allow maximum natural light in. it doesn't help that today, like most others, is cloudy and grey. also doesn't help that the sill's jammed so the panel only opens about halfway through. if only i arrived earlier, she laments, a frown cutting deep on her features, i could've gotten away with mopping the gym floors.

her emotions slowly grew into a curious melange of regret and fascination when she steps aside, recalling an odd piece of information from just a few day- her head whips back at the voice joining her. this must be chamb- her train of thought is interrupted a second time in a row when she recognises the dark hair and small build almost immediately. a hard-to-forget face, really, her mind supplies and she has to seriously refrain from rolling her eyes at the question. she turns her back to the younger girl, resuming her tour deeper into the shed.

"i'd almost call this voluntary work, eliza." her tone is mostly neutral but the fight to keep it that way and push the contempt down is a real one. their little tiff a couple weeks ago? it doesn't bother her. it doesn't. she's not one for holding grudges, remember? "why're you here?" she returns the question, casually swiping a finger—despite holding the dusting cloth in the same hand—on the wooden racks stacked with half-open cardboard boxes. she grimaces at the fuzzy grey soot that catches in the grooves of her fingertip and wipes it away on her skirt despite holding a dusting cloth in the same hand!

she turns around to face the other girl, registering how she's void of any cleaning supplies. "doesn't matter i suppose. you're here now. could you go fill a couple pails of water from the back?" she nods to the steel buckets haphazardly tossed right next to the door. "i'll go grab the dish soap and some mops." if they're here and have to do this, then they might as well do the best they can with what they have. though she wonders as she walks past eliza, accidentally bumping her shoulder, why they're making students clean up this place when they haven't been allowed to enter since as long as she can remember.
 
Alix isn't as good at hiding her contempt as she likes to think she is. It still comes out, voice stiff and uncomfortable. He can hear the fight to keep her tone neutral and even if he thinks it's a little stupid to still be mad at him for something that happened a couple weeks ago, he still appreciates that she's not being outright rude. It'll sure as hell make this cleaning thing a lot easier.

He pushes himself off of the wall with the back of his shoe and walks over to where the tall girl is standing. His gaze drifts to her hands as she wipes off dust with her fingers — her hands are covered in gauze, he notices. Dion opens his mouth to ask if she's alright; despite popular belief, he is capable of that magical thing called "having empathy towards others" and he can't help but feel a little . . . worried over the injury, as ridiculous as that is because it's obviously already been taken care of.

She interrupts him before he can get a chance to ask, the same question he had asked her spilling casually from her lips. "Oh, I was drawing in —" aaand she's interrupting him. Wonderful. Well, whatever. It really doesn't matter why he's here and wasting time just talking to each other is a waste of time. He looks over at the buckets as well and nods. "Alright," he says, shrugging as he attempts to pick up all of them at once. He fails, ultimately, and with a huff settles for just picking up two of them.

****

He's only able to grab one bucket on the way back, so he has to make two trips. It's only a few feet, to be fair, but the water makes the buckets far heavier than they were before.

Dion drops the second bucket to the ground and some water splashes onto the ground. He rolls his shoulder back to hear it pop, inspecting his reddened palms. It really shouldn't hurt as bad as it does. He's reminded briefly that he does, in fact, have absolute noodle arms. He would get into exercise if the complete lack of motivation and laziness didn't get in the way. He'd have to deal with being weak for now.

He looks up as Alix enters the room again, dish soap and mops in hand. He can't help but notice that she seems to be holding the things a little too tight for someone with injured hands. Especially because the mops are wooden, with splinters poking out. "Here," he walks over and reaches his hand out to grab the mops. "You. . . "

He's about to say that you could get splinters, but his voice trails off. It'd be embarrassing to say that. He can't explain why, it just would be. Instead, he settles for the thing he had meant to ask her a few minutes earlier: "Are your hands alright?"
 
alix is directed to the gym's own storage room when she asks for extra cleaning supplies. not only does she find the mops neatly lined in their racks and bottles of detergent mashed in the corner of a shelf, but there's also a haughty smirk that greets her in the form of a dirty blonde, grey-eyed hand-on-the-hip. "zip it," alix snips but the amused huff that follows from the other party shows it really didn't have its desired affect.

"how's eliza?" of course she knows. if anything, she'd probably suggested the two to be paired from the start. "did she get back at you for last time yet?" the girl speaks with a natural sultry drawl and alix really doesn't have time for this ri- "uh, uh, uh," she tuts, rushing to drape her back against the exit's doorframe, a palm resting flat on the part of it across her, affectively blocking the only way out. vivianne—the current bane of her existence—has always been the type to enjoy drama. both being pretty bold personalities, she and alix often bump heads but what really fuels their friendship is their ardent fervour for playing devil's advocate in class.

alix definitely treasures their bond but right now, she really wishes the girl didn't have to be so damn nosy all the time. "she's fine, vivianne. we did not explode at each other like you predicted. can i go now?" oh the delight if vivianne had complied because she'd make the request; the only reason her classmate moves out of the way with a dejected "gosh, fine, you're no fun," is because of someone else calling for her from outside.

alix makes a dash towards the shed, humming pleasantly when she finds eliza already having finished the task. she wordlessly hands one of the mops to the shorter girl, blinking blankly at her. "my... hands...?" it's almost cinematic the way she brings them in front of her face, mouth curving around a small "oh!" when she sees of the criss-cross white gauze. she'd almost forgotten! "i almost forgot i even had these," she iterates her thoughts. "i'm fine, thank you for your concern." her response is perfectly professional but she realises only belatedly how it might've come across when she coupled it with a sharp jerk towards the water-filled buckets to get started on business as soon as possible.

maybe she's not as bad as everyone says... alix is a literature student who's spent far too much time musing about why the author chose a certain colour for the curtains, now picking up on others phrasal choices is almost reflexive for her so it's certainly interesting how eliza had asked "are your hands alright" instead of what happened to them.

the introspection makes her frown, so as an olive branch, alix produces the extra clean napkin she'd nabbed from a basket inside. "you might want to cover your nose."

before, she'd cut off her sense of smell as soon as she'd arrived at the shed but now, the corner of her own handkerchief peeks out from her pocket and she picks up a... peculiar scent. it's a little woodsy but sniff mostly acidic. ew. she securely ties the cloth around her face and almost offers to do it for eliza too.

"okay," she heaves, grabbing one of the buckets and gesturing to the dark... forboding backside of the shed (she gulps. definitely should've grabbed a flashlight and a pair of gloves too). "i'll... start from there?" apprehension tints clearly on her face. she shakes her head, clearing her throat. "actually, why don't you go get mr finch? i really don't know how they expect us to clean this place up." to her understanding, the only plausible way would be to empty the place out and give it a thorough wipe-down. alix may have a hard grip and tougher tolerance from helping her mother with every household chore but this is a little out of her area of expertise. the groundskeeper could give her a push in the right direction.

or hey, if they're lucky, he'd immediately recognise this isn't a task to be assigning to only two students and send them their merry way.
 
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"Oh, that's good." Dion's shoulders — which had been hunched slightly, his brows creased in worry and concern over the girl (even though she's very clearly fine) — relax. She had even forgotten that her hands were even bandaged in the first place. He nods, and murmurs a barely audible thanks as Alix hands him the piece of cloth. He didn't notice it when he first arrived, but the storage shed does smell disgusting.

He ties the cloth around his face; it looks clumsy and is definitely not as tight as it should be, but it's also not falling off and that is good enough for him. He can always just tie the cloth again if it falls off. He looks back towards the back of the shed too, and shivers at the chill that runs up his spine. He wouldn't call himself someone who gets frightened easily, but phew. Bad vibes. Horrible vibes, even. That looks like something straight out of a horror movie. He half-expects to find a dead body in the foreboding darkness.

Dion hesitates when he's asked to get Mr. Finch. "'Kay," he relents eventually. "I don't know how either. Maybe it's some kind of weird torture method to make sure we don't act out again?" There's a joking lilt to his voice, and he smiles, but he honestly kind of believes it. There's really no other reason for them to be cleaning out the storage shed that no students are allowed to enter. They don't even use it anymore!

He disappears behind the shed door and walks outside, taking a deep breath. It feels nice being able to breathe properly again. Sure, the air is cool and thick with the scent of soon-to-be rain, but he actually likes it. It's sure as hell better than the suffocating, stuffy air back at his hometown. He actually takes off the piece of cloth and shoves it into the pocket of his skirt to appreciate it more. Now . . . where the hell is Mr. Finch?

He sees Vivianne walking aimlessly around though, and a light bulb in his brain immediately goes off. "Wife!" he practically squeals. Before she can even get a chance to turn around, he jumps up onto her and secures his legs tightly around her waist, his hands wrapped loosely around her shoulders. "Can you take me to Mr. Finch, please? I'll love you forever if you do."
 
"how long are we gonna be here," vivianne pouts, slumping against the bleachers they'd just wiped down from top to bottom. she's only grateful she won the rock-paper-scissors match between the others and didn't have to the hardened gum stuck beneath them too. fuckin' gross. there's grumbles from the people around her that she simply shucks off, wildly flailing her legs and crying in indignation, "this isn't even fair! nami was the one passing notes to me! how come only i get punished for it!" the teacher in charge glares at her and she sends one right the fuck back, not hiding the exaggerated eye roll when she snatches the dusty old cloth tossed aside and begrudgingly pulls herself up.

"i'm gonna get some water," she announces loudly, praising the Lord that the coolers in the gym hadn't been refilled yet so she could conveniently make a detour to the cafeteria.

she notes that the shed alix and dion are working at is northwards, at the far backside of their gothic school building. she does consider making a one-eighty and giving those two a visit too but... does she really want to walk the extra steps when she's already a couple hundred closer to the cafeteria. for now, she bridges that distance further by interlinking her fingers behind her head and walking leisurely towards her destination.

though perhaps a God does exist and He did hear her for once because lo-and-behold, there's a soft mass colliding with her back mere seconds later. despite being thrown off-balance for a moment there, her hands are moving out of muscle-memory to slot behind the person's knee, fingers curling around their thigh. it's become an instinctive habit created by- a slow grin spreads across her face. "aw, guess who fell from Heaven for me." it's cheesy but that's kind of become their thing and she relishes in it. "alix and i last saw him pulling weeds. he's probably still up front but... i really don't have the energy to carry both of us there, shrimpy." her feet started moving in the direction of the front gardens before she'd even gotten half that out.

unsurprisingly, they do find him working there, wiping his brow with the back of his hand as he admires the plastic he's fastened over the bed of new sapplings. presumably to protect them from the coming rain. vivianne lets dion "there's your man. what'd you need him for?" she sets him down gently, tilting her head in question. she assumes it has something to do with the task assigned to them but alix could literally work as a professional housekeeper, so it's probably not about that. she sticks around to find out.
 
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Dion scowls lightly at the nickname, but it doesn't hold the same bite or contempt that it does when he does it to other people. He's been known to be a little dramatic when it comes to people making fun of him for his height. There was even one time, a few months back, that he had to be sent to the nurse's office because his shoulder had gotten dislocated when he threw a textbook at a girl who leaned down to talk to him. It was completely justified, in his opinion, and her bloody nose made his own injury worth it.

"You're literally so mean to me," he huffs in reply, but he rests his head on her shoulder anyway and smiles softly. She still carries him, despite her claim that she wouldn't be able to (which is a total lie), and the two of them fall into a comfortable silence until they reach the garden. It's actually not rare for them to just . . . sit with each other, not saying anything. There are some days when Dion is too overstimulated or tired, or when both of them just really don't want to talk about anything. Or like now, when the lack of words between them is somehow comforting and calm.

"Thanks," he says as she sets him down. "Uh, just cleaning stuff. Dude," his voice drops to a whisper so that the teacher won't hear him, "that shed is fucking gross. Smells like dead bodies and there's spiderwebs and mold everywhere." Then, he turns to Mr. Finch and hollers to get his attention. "Hey! Uh, I have a question about our cleaning job thingy?"

Mr. Finch looks up and sighs heavily. "Yes, Miss Chambers?" he asks, sounding exhausted. Dion doesn't take it too personally; actually, he's one of the few staff that is actually pretty okay. He just finds Dion to be exhausting to deal with, which. Yeah. Fair.

"So, Alix and I were wondering about how we're supposed to clean out the shed 'cause —"

"You aren't supposed to be back there!" Mr. Finch interrupts, getting to his feet so abruptly that Dion stumbles backwards. The only thing that keeps him from hitting the ground is that he stumbles backwards into Vivianne. "What are you two doing cleaning the storage shed? You know that students aren't allowed back there!"

"I mean, we were told to, so...?" he shrugs his shoulders.

Mr. Finch shakes his head rapidly. "No, no, no!" he says, pacing back and forth before finally turning to look back at Dion. "Okay, look. You two don't have detention anymore. You're getting off scott-free. You're welcome. Just. Just get out of that shed. I don't want to see you kids back there ever again. Understood?"
 
this is the first time vivianne has ever seen mr finch lose his cool. he's always been one of the nicer staff members here. one time, vivianne and alix went up to ask him some questions regarding wooden huts and how to build a small one using twigs. he'd smiled at them and requested they come see him after the school day was over. vivianne remembers he'd been very patient with them and had only laughed watching her and alix bicker over whose fault it was that the hut kept collapsing. (they worked much better together when recreating it over a span of multiple days in the woods outside school premises).

vivianne's hands immediately come up to clutch dion's shoulders, saving the boy from hurling into the flower beds behind them. he's pretty light so the impact force wasn't enough to trip her too.

she furrows her brows at mr finch's odd behaviour and when he realises neither of them are responding to him, he sighs, pulling a heavy glove off to rub an uneasy hand into his face. "let's go get alix," vivianne whispers, shooting the groundskeeper with unamused eyes. she knows he didn't hear her but he might as well have with the way he fumbles with the many tools hanging from his belt and picks out a ring of old keys. he probably expects the two of them to sling their hooks and be off on their merry way but vivianne stomps one foot forward.

he turns around, gaze flicking from her shoe to her hard-set face. he seems to understand. "very well," is all he says.

"come on." vivianne grabs dion's hand and tracks behind mr finch to the shed he's so protective of. when they arrive, alix is already standing by its dilapidated, ashy façade. it's a little frantic, the way her head whips up at the sound of footsteps approaching. her face barely twists in confusion at the sight of the a certain blonde accompanying dion and the man but it resets to concern she's trying damndest to write off as inquisition. vivianne only picks up on it because they've known each other in close company for two years now.

"so we can go now?" she hears her dark-haired nearly plead but her senses are more focused on the way alix clutches her wrist, pulling her away from dion. "thank you!" she beams, taking a step back from the shed and tugging vivianne with her.

she barely casts another glance at dion but the blonde does turn around to give him a small wave and a small smile as if to say, "sorry for ditching you." she's not really sorry, alix seems to be a bit shaken up and vivianne's already panting trying to keep up with her sprinting across the grounds.

"you won't believe-" alix huffs, fingernails digging into the front of her uniform and vivianne wonders how long her heart's been racing for. must've been before they started running, her pupils were dilated earlier too when vivianne had seen her shortly speak to mr finch.

the two of them stop inside the school building, ducking near one of the large windows in the front hallway. they're a mess of warm hands and warm breaths, and vivianne's becoming increasingly worried about her friend's harsh grip on her forearms. "you won't believe what i found-"

***​

outside, mr finch's keys jingle when he roughly clips them back onto his belt loops. he yanks at the door for good measure, satisfied to find it stiffly locked in place so these prying kids can't sneak in again. though he supposes it isn't entirely their fault: he'll need to have a proper word with the teacher in charge of assigning detention tasks today. who told her students were allowed within two feet of this build? she must be new. he scowls, it's such a pain having to not just show but explain how the ropes are tied around he-

his breath freezes in his throat upon finding one of the girls still in his presence. "get-" he clears his throat. "get going, miss chambers. go join your friends in the study hall." as much as he wants to and as wary as he is of leaving this girl unattended around what's essentially his property, he doesn't stick around to ensure she leaves straightaway after him.

but maybe it's not miss chambers he should've been worried about.

***​

"did you hear, did you hear..." there's ominous whispers trickling from the walls. "do you know, do you know..." the hallways are void human breath, the sun hasn't even risen. "how shameful..."

a collective gasp sputters from the pillar fillets like the nuns who'd seen one of their own in improper footings with men whose hearts no not the word of God but the fire of their own lusts. but it's worth noting: there are no clusters of women clad in black and white to witness the first waves of orange and pink seep in through the window edges.

whoever it is, whatever it is—perhaps the conscience of sleeping students aching for a break in their monotonous school lives—it realises this fact: now, when the first birds of dawn chirp to wake their mates, is not the time. so a river-cold silence douses on the building once again.

morning comes to lift the cloak of darkness hanging in the corners of their classrooms and it steals the peaceful slumber in the hallways too, phantom whispers now replaced with real groups of girls huddling near their lockers and hissing among themselves.

alix seeks out vivianne's steely eyes from across the class. her heart's still unsettled, trembling to-and-fro in her chest. she doesn't understand why yet, mind swirling with questions that cloud her ability to pay attention to the ongoing lecture. she doodles in her notebook and watches the front gardens from her perfect seat near the sill. there's a couple students roaming about, and the makeshift plastic tunnel over the saplings is still present.

she bites the inside of her cheek at the sight and swiftly turns her attention back to the front. a part of her feels betrayed but it's overshadowed by an insistent pricking sensation in her legs that wants her to run, hide, lay down. she really doesn't understand why but does quite quickly after that when an erratic group of people approach her and vivianne as soon as the bell rings.

"did you hear?!" they squeal. "mr finch......" the voice garbles around her ears and tastes like the green acid bubbling in the pits of her stomach. she has to breathe but her muscles won't move. it's only her eyes that widen in... surprise? torment? regret? this wasn't her goal- it's not... this can't be her fault, can it?

...it can't, right?

the fact that mr finch was discharged from his job overnight?

"......and for being in possession of DRUGS OF ALL THINGS!! i mean, i NEVER expected it from him, it's crazy!"
 
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Dion shakes his head slightly, an amused huff of breath escaping his lips as he watches Vivianne go off with Alex. He smiles right back at her. He's not really mad at her ditching him. After all, Alix probably needs her a lot more than he does. She looks really shaken up — her body is tense, eyes wide, and pupils dilated. What the hell happened to her while he was gone? It had only been a few minutes . . . Could it have been prevented if he insisted they both went?

He internally shakes his head. No, don't think like that. There's no use dwelling on scenarios that didn't happen. Besides, he probably wouldn't have been able to stop whatever had scared her so much. He'd just be dealing with it right now too, and while he does believe in solidarity in suffering — the countless queer teenagers on online forums he was on venting about bad family situations comes to mind — this is probably a little different. There's a small part of him that's glad it's just her. The rest of him, however, feels awful she's going through this alone.

(Whatever this is.)

Dion stays behind Mr. Finch. He really doesn't have a good reason to, other than morbid curiosity on what could have happened in that dingy little shed that was so terrifying. He'd always thought that it gave off a weird vibe, but for something bad to actually happen in here? Something that made Alix look like that? It was intriguing and he wanted to learn more. He doesn't leave until Mr. Chambers turns back around, telling him to go join his friends, and then he runs off. He considers asking Alix what happened, but decides not to. He doesn't want to bother her when she's still so scared.

***

There's a strange feeling in the air the next day.

It's a thick, suffocating feeling; like the hottest summer days back at home when breathing would burn the back of his throat and leave his insides feeling scorched. The weather here is cold, however, which makes it more strange because he has always considered cold weather to feel freeing. That's one of the school's saving graces, the fact that it never goes above sixty degrees, even when it really should be hot.

Today, he finds himself craving the heat. Anything, and he means anything would be better than the breath of icy air that settles into his stomach and makes frost curl around his organs, twisting uncomfortably in a stomach in a way that makes his entire body squirm in discomfort. There's no real difference when you look at it, the dull sky looks the same as it always does, but he just knows. There's a feeling that settles deep in his bones that something has shifted, and even though he can't tell what it is he doesn't like it.

He finds Vivianne and Alix after school. They're surrounded by a heard of girls, ones with long hair and pristine uniforms and shimmers of lip gloss that are just subtle enough so that the nuns won't notice (but other students definitely do). He stays behind for a few minutes, teeth gritted as they go off on how surprising it is that Mr. Finch of all people was fired for being in possession of drugs. He rolls his eyes. There's literally no proof of that. It's not something the staff would just go around telling people, and Mr. Finch himself probably worked hard to keep it under his wraps even after his discharge.

Alix looks uncomfortable, he realizes. Her body is frozen, her skin turning a sickly color, and her eyes wide. The girls' don't notice, which is so weird to him because how could anyone not notice that? Maybe they do, actually, and they just don't care. They're either malicious assholes or oblivious dumb asses. He doesn't really care either way. Regardless, he's getting her out of that situation.

He steps between Vivianne, Alix and the gaggle of girls. His footsteps are light for how whirlwind quick he moves, and the group of them take a step backwards from the scowling junior. His arms are crossed over his chest, his hair (which he'd not had time to put in his usual braid because he woke up late) falling in front of his face in a way that casts a strange, curtain-like shadow across it, making him look far more terrifying than anyone under five-two should be allowed to be.

"You are so annoying," the words come out harsh and venomous. "She doesn't want to talk to you — anybody with half of a working brain cell could see you're making her uncomfortable. So, kindly, fuck off and go tell your stupid rumors to someone who actually gives a shit." He flips them off, just for good measure, and the girls oblige. They grumble and complain and mutter insults under their breath, but they leave to go tell the drug story to someone else. He turns around to face Alix. The realization of what he's done finally catches him.

"Um . . ." he starts, unsure of what to say. His hand comes up to awkwardly rub the back of his neck. "You just, like, looked super uncomfortable and it was kind of hard to watch. Sorry." Dion's hand falls to his side once more as he peers at her. "Uh, speaking of which, are you doing alright? You looked really shaken up yesterday. I was going to ask you then, but I didn't want to bother you."
 
alix is simultaneously planning many escapes in her head that include passive strategies like effectively blocking out the voices of these girls, and more aggressive ones that include her shoving the short-haired girl whose shoes she feels tap against her own (that's how far she's crossed into alix's personal space) and furiously stomping off. beside her, vivianne is almost engrossed in the cascading fables that that spiraled from bad to absolutely abysmal from a single rumour; alix knows she won't be of any help here and is almost about to metaphorically shout "to hell with it!" and take the latter route out but in her next breath-

there's a spark that bursts and scorches her rib cage, pushing all the air out from her lungs. it fizzles. momentarily. to give her enough time to assess who'd just stepped in and what they'd done. a disheveled head of black hair is the last person she's expecting to see in front of her, forcing a tide between her and the groups of ecstatic girls whose excitement is slowly sizzling into a confused simmer.

i don't like this... in a jerky movement, she pulls on her ear, feeling something bite the soft cartilage between sharp, sharp incisors. she glances behind her to confirm there's no one pinching her, and she's right. i must've imagined it. her eyes linger, zeroed in on the far end of the hallway but, there's nothing there, alix. she slowly turns back to the front, finding the group having dispersed already, the intrusive glimmer in their eyes now replaced by something much softer.

alix thinks she'd choose them over this any day.

there is concern in eliza's voice, much like yesterday when she'd genuinely asked about her hands; the same ones she's balling up into her sides now. oh how desperately she wishes it was nani who shared the last class with her. at least, she'd try to reel alix back in by suggesting they go for a walk or get a snack. NOT that alix needs reeling because her anger management is almost on-par with vivianne's most times and right now will be one of those even if eliza—much like last time—wants to get a rise out of her.

"i don't understand why you think it's funny to provoke me." the words are woven with an emotion that isn't quite anger, isn't quite disappointment: it stems from the exposed flesh inside her that's still burning itself and the ring of muscle around it. expanding and heating her core. her heart feels too warm but there's a chill scratching her neck. "thank you for helping but i could've handled myself fine without it." if nanami were here, she might've followed after alix after she swiftly spins on her heel to stalk off but she knows vivianne, being friends with eliza somehow, won't. and that's fine.

she turns the corner and just walks, palms throbbing with a fresh flow of bright crimson blood when she flexes them and chooses to focus on the fact that eliza had tried to humiliate her in front of others again. as if the first time wasn't enough, as if it hadn't lead her straight to a confessional surrounded by every single person in the library who'd witnessed her little fit of rage. she doesn't know how eliza was punished for it, if she even was.

***​

vivianne rolls her eyes at alix's little display of angst when she storms off. both of them know she won't be taking her side this time because this is absolutely ridiculous. expected but still immature as hell when dion was only trying to be nice. "leave her be," she waves a dismissive hand, clicking her tongue in disproval. "she gets like this sometimes: makes something a big deal fuckin' deal to ignore whatever else shit that's bugging her."

she sighs exaggeratedly and pushes her weight on the wall adjacent to them. "she actually did find a whole stash of coke in the shed so the rumours about mr finch being a snowbird are true." she says it casually because the gravity of it doesn't affect her like it might be alix. vivianne doesn't have to deal with the possibility that a working class man's unemployment might be her fault. not that it actually was alix's either.

"oh!" she frantically flaps her hands in front of her and rushes to make amends, "but she's not the reason he got fired!! i made sure to put her to bed last night." not because she believed alix would sneak out to snitch, she's really not that kind of person, but mainly because it'd be problematic for all of them to have to deal with a cranky, sleep-deprived alix the next morning who stayed up through dawn to fret over baseless scenarios.

vivianne flicks her fingers in the air, already getting a headache because of this. "anyway! we're still on for tonight, right?" she changes the topic, looking expectantly at dion because she remembers whisper-screaming about it to him and skipping class to plan it all out the first week they were back to school .
 
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"I don't understand why you think it's funny to provoke me."

Dion startles at the harsh words, brow furrowing and mouth opening to argue for himself. He wasn't trying to provoke her, he wants to say. She just looked so uncomfortable and he hates when people make others uncomfortable and he wanted to get her out of that situation because he knows how much it sucks. The words don't come out before she leaves, and it leaves him with a sinking feeling in his gut. His chest tightens painfully.

He doesn't know how to deal with the feelings swirling inside of his chest, the genuine hurt and confusion of being treated like the bad guy when he genuinely just wanted to help, and the way it makes him want to cry. He tries to settle into the bitter anger that's become so familiar to him whenever he feels hurt by someone else, but even the insult of "bitch" comes out sounding more sad and dejected. He's pretty sure that his voice even cracks slightly. He brings his hand up to his eyes to wipe away the sudden tears that make his vision blurry. What's his problem?

God, he must be having a really bad day.

He doesn't even realize that Vivianne is talking until the topic switches to Mr. Finch's (apparently real) drug stash. "Oh," he blinks. Alix was the one who found it, huh? That explains why she's so much more of a bitch today. He understands. Besides, it'd be hypocritical of him to act like he's never lashed out at someone because of outside reasons. So why does he still feel so hurt and upset? Why are his nails digging into his skin again and leaving behind blood, just like they had done yesterday before detention? The confusion makes him even more upset, although this time he's not sure whether it's directed at him or Alix.

He relaxes slightly at Vivianne's change of topic, the iron-clad grip of his nails against his flesh loosening until they aren't touching anymore. "Yeah," he says softly, a tired smile gracing his face. He looks back down at his hands, the blood dripping from his palm onto his fingers. He doesn't want to go to the nurse's office, because Alix's hands were also bleeding and that means he might run into her. He also just doesn't like the nurse's office. Instead, he looks back up at Vivianne.

"You think you'd be up for skipping right now?" he asks, unsure and hesitant because the fear of being a bother to the people that Dion actually cares about is something that never quite goes away. "I don't think I can handle going to school today, and . . . " he stops, looking away, and the words I don't feel like being alone go unsaid. It doesn't matter how much he puts on a tough act on front of other people. He's still just a clingy, touch-starved brat who makes his only friend do things for him just because he can't handle himself. It's pathetic. There's a part of him that wants to take back his words and just bolt without Vivianne, but he doesn't.

"Also," he holds up his hands hesitantly. "You have some band-aids, by any chance?"
 
"bandaids aren't really my aesthetic but maybe i have some. lemme see-" a little tongue pokes out in concentration as she twists her backpack in front of her and blindly shoves a hand in to rummage through the only section she's unzipped ever since she got the bag. "aha!" she feels her fingers slide over the familiar greasy surface, the tiny pores on the surface catching on the ridges of her fingertip. she only finds two and they're purple and pink in colour when she pulls them out. "oh ew. i like yellow a lot more. no idea how these ended up on me." she grabs dion's hand and places it near to her so she can stick the bandaid on without the air contaminating it for too long. nanami and alix both take biology, they're very particular about these kinds of things and vivianne won't lie, some of their manic behaviour's rubbed off on her over the years too.

she presses soft pad on the crescent-shaped indents glistening with a watery-red liquid just below the surface, and carefully rolls the adhesive wings down at an angle that leaves the other laceration's on dion's palm uncovered. "you know, i think it's properly better to disinfect them or something first." that's not an initiative to move to the nurse's office to find rubbing alcohol. vivianne merely states it like observing a fluffy cloud passing through the bright, blue skies of her thoughts. fortunately for her, two bandaids suffice temporarily because he's only broken deep skin in two areas; the others look... manageable, or maybe that's just vivianne projecting her own lack of self-concern about the injuries she gets.

she straightens up with both her hands on her hips, an almost-triumphant smirk stretching her lips. "okay, done. i don't have more but i'll ask alix for some when she's calmed down." speaking of alix... nope. she's not going to ask. not that she's ever been the person who asks about people's pain and sob stories; she much prefers making herself blatantly available for the other person for when they want to talk. apparently that's the wrong way to go about it, according to some of her friends but is it really? she's a naturally nosy individual but she firmly believes it's better to wait for the other party to open up at their own pace rather than rushing them with pressuring questions like "hey, everything okay?" that's just the way she is and despite having seen dion wipe his tears, she's not going to verbally acknowledge them. he's aware she saw, that's enough.

but what she does is slot is her hand between dion's uninjured hand. "in the meantime, i'll totally take you up on ditching class. it's my last one anyway and i had world history." she makes a show of gagging. it's her favourite subject but most teachers here have a way of crumpling what you love and handing back fuckin' slugs: they find some sick joy in ruining most things she loves because the class is so boring! ugh.

the bell rings just in time and vivianne tugs the younger boy forward. "quick before the hall monitors catch our asses!" she takes two steps at a time when dashing up the staircase and ducks below the measly plastic ribbon used to seal off the continuation of them to the fourth floor and subsequently, the roof. surprisingly enough, the staff are yet to latch onto the fact that they hide up there. do they find it that untenable when it comes to them? she huffs rather pompously. "after you, my liege." she gives him an exaggerated bow. this isn't just her trying to lighten the mood; they're always this playful together and she knows dion won't appreciate that changing just because he shed a couple tears over alix's unjustified behaviour before.
 
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Dion stumbles a bit when she grabs his hand and glares halfheartedly, but ultimately lets himself be taken care of without any complaint. Her hands move swiftly and gently as she presses band-aids against the pale flesh of his palm. He waits for the inevitable scolding, the annoying (but admittedly well-meaning) voice telling him that he really shouldn't do that, but it never comes. She just helps him without question, and he really can't be more grateful for that. He's gotten so tired of people yelling at him for his anxious habit that he would stop if he could, obviously, he doesn't even realize he's doing it most of the time!

"Really?" he blinks at the disinfectant comment, looking down at the bandages now pressed against his skin. They crinkle up slightly when he moves his hand, but it doesn't seem like they're gonna be falling off anytime soon. "Huh." He's never put disinfectant on his nail-induced injuries before because really, how much damage could his nails even do? Sure, they were kinda dirty and jagged because he bit them constantly and there was probably some gross stuff stuck there from picking at his teeth and . . . okay, so maybe he should be putting disinfectant on his injuries more often.

"Thanks," he says, looking back up. "When do you get a chance to, like, talk to her and stuff, tell her I said sorry? I'd do it myself, but I don't think she'd want to talk to me."

Dion's uninjured hand slips into Vivianne and he giggles as she makes a very dramatic show of gagging. She makes her hatred of World History very, very obvious; the first actual conversation they had when they were first becoming friends was a ten minute rant on how strangely impressive it was that the teachers here could manage to turn such an interesting subject into something that makes her want to bang her head repeatedly against the desk. He shares a similar sentiment, but he's never really liked World History anyway.

He's a fan of more obscure types of history. He can't tell you who the third president of the USA is, but he can sure as hell tell you who the first recorded serial killer is and the history of doctors during the Victorian era.

Dion struggles to keep up with Vivianne at first even with her holding his hand, because compared to her he has very small legs, but the two fall into an easy rhythm when he manages to run alongside her rather than being behind. He doesn't spare a glance behind him to check if the hall monitors are watching them, because he knows they aren't. They never are. It doesn't matter how loud they're being. The two of them have never once been caught sneaking off. He can't tell if the two of them are just geniuses, or if the hall monitors are just morons. He'd prefer to go with the first option (even if the latter does seem more likely.)

"Why, thank you, kind madam." he grins and opens the door to lead to the rooftop. It's always been his favorite place at the school ever since Vivianne showed him how easy it was to get up here; nice, quiet, and best of all, completely free from any of the school staff or his peers. He sits crisscross on the ground immediately, propped up on his elbows as he looks up at the cloudy sky.
 
vivianne wordlessly takes her seat on the ground next to dion, legs stretched out in front of her and palms flat behind her. her head lolls back, hooded eyes gazing at the perpetual drab and grey of their afternoon skies. i hope it doesn't rain tonight... there were rain predictions yesterday too but not a single droplet of dew fell from the engorged storm clouds. vivianne really hopes they gets lucky today too, and after tonight, it can rain all it wants.

biting the inside of her cheek, she glances over at the raven-haired boy beside her. he mimics her own posture in the sense that they're both looking up to the sky, possibly wishing for the same thing (because weeks ago, vivianne had told she'd brought a very special present for him to rile up his excitement for their mission). but she also knows there's other thoughts consuming his mind: one that he'd voiced earlier and she'd willingly ignored in preference for getting up here as soon as possible. she has a chance to think about it now, to address it too but- God, she's really bad at making emotional speeches like this; empathy and compassion is nanami's forte and consolation has always been alix's.

she sucks in a sharp breath, angling herself more towards the petite boy. "uh... you're really strong, you know?" the words are awkwardly suspended in the matrix of humidity in the air today. vivianne scratches her cheek, looking around her as if physically trying to search for what she should say. the stiffness in her limbs stems less from a place of indifference, and more from the fact that she just doesn't do mushy feelings so it's an uncomfortable spot for her. she does however, mean every word of that she'd said: dion is a strong individual.

the rest isn't too difficult to sew on from there: "for putting up with everyone's bullshit and staying sane? amazing." part of why she was so drawn to dion in the first place—despite them having a rocky start—might've been because she saw parts of herself in him. they couldn't be more different though: vivianne used to relentlessly tease her friends just because she could and no one really admonished her for it, whereas dion's behavior is bred from revulsion for people with her old mindset. it's the truth and the truth when she says she's grateful to dion for calling her out on it last year; it's because of him she was able to finally form meaningful friendships with her classmates.

"for enduring in such a suffocating christian institute," she continues, looking past the concrete balusters lining the edge of the roof (it's more of a balcony if she's being honest but she'll take the best she can get) and straight into the thicket of coniferous trees outside school premises. she will personally never understand the torment of being constantly misgendered but having a trans sister at home... she can really only hope desperately that spending time with vivianne provides dion relief after the academic day.

"so!!" her voice raises in vibrancy and her brows set in determination as she jabs a finger into his sternum. "don't ask me how this is related to what i just said but don't you dare apologise to alix! you did nothing wrong. i know her better than you and if she doesn't come around by tomorrow, my guy, i will do your homework for a MONTH." she settles back down, and deflates onto the ground with her eyes shut and both her arms cushioned below her head. "now shut up and don't go sappy on me, we have a big night ahead of us."

***​

"what the fu- heck do you mean?!" alix hisses rather vehemently for someone who claims to be on their side.

vivianne simply quirks a brow at the dark-haired girl with streaks of golden candlelight reflecting from her dewy skin. "it's okay to say 'fuck' every now and then, y'know?" that earns her a good punch in the chest. "fuck! ow, ow, okay!! i have detention, it's not my fault!"

"you knew skipping miss zaitsev's class would land you here- !" her mouth suddenly clamps shut and she stares down at their proximity, entirely upset at the way this is turning out.

the two of them clutch each others arms, knees barely grazing. the most prominent difference between them is in their dressing: vivianne's still wearing the school uniform whereas alix is in her casual clothes: relaxed fit jeans with a lilac t-shirt covered by an unbuttoned purple flannel. she'd only dressed up because the girls on her dorm floor had decided to watch a movie in the common room.

vivianne could've totally matched her purple plaid skirt with alix's flannel if one, she didn't have extremely dire plans with dion and two, she didn't have fuckin' detention! "c'mon, alix please!" she clasps her hands before the other and swear to God, begs. "your stuff is in the bag too, tonight is the only time we can get it without being caught!" her voice is barely a whisper. all the teachers and the nuns are in the church so there really isn't any reason to be so silent and secretive, but the way their voices echoes and carries in the hallways... vivianne's afraid of aubrey the autocrat—the senior placed in charge of the detention-students today—overhearing and detaining them both.

the last thing they need is trouble, and vivianne can see the same understanding swirling in alix's eyes. "good, good, go!" she pushes the taller girl away before she can change her mind or have a chance to properly think this over. "eliza's probably already waiting for you at the exit. go!!"
 
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Dion is even worse at dealing with emotions than Vivianne is.

There's something so embarrassing about admitting that he genuinely feels things other than annoyance and anger. There are very few people who get to see the genuine soft side of him. Everyone else gets scowls, venomous taunts to hide hurt, and lashing out whenever someone even dares to imply that he could possibly be more caring than he lets on (because he is absolutely not and he doesn't care that the things he does actively disproves that. He just steps in and defends people because he feels like it. Not for them. Absolutely not.)

There's also his overwhelming amount of insecurity and self-doubt that make it hard to accept any sort of compliment. He gets embarrassed when someone calls him cool, so this type of thing — someone calling him strong and amazing for being able to put up with these types of things — makes him want to crawl into a hole and die because he honestly isn't sure how he's supposed to respond. It's not really that impressive either. He has to deal with it. That's the only reason he does. If someone offered him the chance to be reborn into an accepting family where he didn't have to deal with all of this transphobic bullshit, he would take it in a heartbeat.

His shoulders relax when Vivianne abruptly changes the subject and jabs a finger into his chest. "You suck," he says after she's finished talking, smiling. "You know I can't deal with people being genuine and shit. It's embarrassing. But, for what it's worth... thanks, dude. You're pretty amazing too."

______________________________________________

Dion stands at the exit, leaning against the wall. For anyone walking idly past, they might mistake him for being relaxed; leaning casually against the wall with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. He really couldn't be far from it though. There are a lot of factors contributing to his stress -- the fear of being caught, even though he knows they won't be because all of the nuns and teachers are at the church and he's just being dramatic and worrying over nothing! There's also the whole seeing Alix thing again.

He's not mad, per say. She's going through a lot. It's no wonder that she lashed out. He'd be a hypocrite if he were to say he'd never done that before. Still. That desperate, anxious feeling of not knowing what he did wrong and nobody explaining it to him...he really hated that. It was frustrating and the part of him that's still bitter about the encounter is running through every possible way to make her feel that exact same way. He knows he'll feel bad about it later though, so he represses the urge to make her feel like garbage.

He pushes his body off the wall when she arrives. "Hey," he says. His voice comes out completely monotone, a far-cry from the snark and sarcasm that manages to seep it's way into everything he says. "C'mon, let's go. Vivianne's going to meet us there when she finds a way to sneak out of detention."

He doesn't even look at her.
 
alix doesn't know why she the situation with the kid to have blown over by know. part of her thought it'd be the same as yesterday: both of them would acknowledge what'd happen in silence then go on about their close-contact interactions like normal. she supposes time catalysed the previous occasion but she also supposes eliza is technically still being civil to her. she's just not directly acknowledging her presence and as annoying as that is, it's still something alix can work with because from her side at the very least, the animosity's simmered back down to a glowing ember: ready to catch fire at the smallest spark but subdued for the time being.

"she's not coming." did eliza assume alix was joining their little mission to retrieve vivianne's bag? that's not it. firstly, she'd never skip the girls' secret annual movie night, though if she's being completely honest, she begrudgingly would've if vivianne explicitly asked her to (it'd never come it, that much she knows); and two, she wouldn't want to hang out with eliza.

the latter reason is a little confuddling for her because she knows that innately, she doesn't want to intrude on her and vivianne's friendship. the dark-blonde has never been good at keeping secrets but it's also not difficult to gather that eliza... doesn't really have that many friends. it's best to keep different people in different play rooms and so far, vivianne has accomplished that wonderfully: she never self-invites eliza into their time and before today, she's never suggested anyone else to "give eliza a chance, you'll love her once you get to know her!"

"aubrey's in charge of detention today so unfortunately, you're stuck with me now," alix casually slides her hands into the pockets of her flannel. aubrey's the tallest girl at school, and the only person on the student council even nanami—who brings out the softest side of people—becomes mousy and meek around. "and if you don't want to join them, i think it's best we get a move on so we can retu-" as if on cue, the entire landscape around them flashes blinding white, causing alix to instinctively clutch her flannel a little harsher. the low rumbling of rolling storm clouds followed not even a blink later.

a silence hangs between them. alix really isn't getting a good feeling about this. "let's just get this over with," she lets out a resigned sigh, jerking her elbow vaguely at the courtyard. vivianne hadn't instructed her to carry anything on her so she's assuming eliza has a flashing and scissors on her which naturally means she should lead the way.
 
"She's not coming."

"Oh." For the first time since this interaction had started, Dion actually looks at Alix. He visibly deflates, shoulders slumping and eyes widening slightly in an expression of hurt. They'd been planning since the first week of school and he had wanted, still wants to go with her. It's childish, he knows, to feel so upset for something she really has no control over. It's his fault she got detention in the first place. "Alright, I guess."

Dion does, in fact, lead the way. It's dark outside, the clouds a thick gray and the sky a dark blue that encompasses the entire courtyard in darkness. He reaches into his satchel bag for the flashlight and shines it into the path in front of them. He looks up at the sky too, noticing the rumbles of thunder and flashes of lightning, and furrows his brow. They definitely won't get there fast enough if they decide to take a leisurely stroll, so there's really only one option.

He looks back at Alix. "Let's run."

Then, before he can even be gifted a response, he bolts into the direction of the woods. He stumbles over his feet and almost trips, and struggles to hold the flashlight up because it's extremely bulky (the kind people use for camping; it's the only one he had on hand). He manages though. The world disappears behind him in a blur of dull colors. It feels nice. Sure, every breathe of icy air makes his lungs hurt even more and his legs are starting to ache by the time they reach the woods, but it's in the absolute best way possible.

He only stops when he reaches the spot, keeled over with his hands on his knees. The adrenaline rush slowly fizzles away, and he becomes even more aware about how his body hurts. Especially his arms, from carrying that bulky flashlight. He drops it to the ground as he stands up straighter to get some relief and rolls his shoulder back, hearing it make a satisfying 'pop' sound. He also turns around to see if Alix is still there. She can't have fallen too far behind. Dion might be a fast runner, but the weight of the flashlight and the satchel thumping against his side definitely slowed him down.

It's fortunate for him that she did manage to stay close, because he would feel bad if he ditched her. He picks the flashlight up from the off the ground and struggles to grab the scissors from his bag, eventually settling for tucking the flashlight underneath his armpit temporarily while he fishes it out. "Can you, like, get the stuff? I would, but we need the flashlight for light and it kind of requires two hands to carry. Or you can take the flashlight. Doesn't matter either way."
 
eliza is fast freaking runner. she barely gives alix any reaction time and is sprinting off into the dark and hauntingly alluring woods, making it over the part of the school's boundary that relatively shorter than the rest and closer to the uneven ground on the other side. for someone so scrawny and tiny, alix didn't really have high expectations. after her initial stunned reaction, it's not too difficult for her to keep up and she has her parents and brothers to thank for that: they went out every saturday evening for a principally lighthearted game that almost always ended up becoming competitive after they started betting snacks on the win.

so yes, it's not too difficult to keep up and alix has pretty much memorised all the characteristic features of the path she and vivianne would take whenever they snuck out during early weekend mornings. there's the tree with the deep gash, there's the bird nest... aha! a torn piece of my poor red shirt spotted, she keeps track of all the hints and imagines eliza's learnt them by heart at this point too though she's not sure how often and deep into the evergreen woods vivianne's taken her before. maybe she just has sharp memory and remembers all the visual clues vivianne relayed to her.

whatever it may be, it really doesn't matter because they managed to reach their destination quickly anyway.

a warmth spreads through alix when she commands her feet to halt, feels her toes tingling with energy she hasn't felt in ages. there's a difference in running across the yard because vivianne found your diary and running because of a time-constraint that has her craning her neck to observe the faraway facade of their augural and domineering school building. it's looks bigger from here than it does when she stands at the foot of its entrance stairs. the turrets are long and pointy; thin with chiseled niches that stretch much to similar to faces distorted in-

no, she's quick to reprimand herself, falling to her knees harder than intended, hoping the shockwave that zings up her skeleton wakes her the fuck up. you're just spooking yourself out now. rumours of students being caught and punished severely for trying to sneak out into the forest after lights out have kept alix's desires of exploring it after sunset at bay and if she knew there were whispers of fear here... she wouldn't have agreed to come. but then again... the thought of eliza (or ANYONE) venturing out alone makes her queasy too.

she accepts the scissors from the younger girl and waits until she has her flashlight properly pointed at the little hut before going in to cut the ropes they'd tied to keep each of the twigs tied together. it's a rather shabby creation alix isn't too proud of: crafted out of brittle twigs vivianne and her spent ages collecting but at least it ensured none of the forest animals had access to it, like the chipmunks. God, alix hated those little fiends, they could easily chew through the material of the backpack hidden under the hut and damage everything inside including the book she'd shyly asked vivianne to get for her.

Snap..!

she freezes, cold, chilling fear gripping every tendril of her skin, digging its dirty nails into her temples. that was not the sound of her slicing the final thread holding their rope together. "might'v- that must've been the- wind. the wind. don't worry," she assures eliza before realising she'd almost forgotten the other girl was here. and then realising her voice wobbled far too right for her to convince to anyone right now.

the right, the right. the origin of the sound. alix never once considered the possibility of the woods being infested by wild animals. wolves. this is not how she wants to die.

she snatches the torch from eliza's hands and trusts it towards the source of her spiraling sanity. she finds nothing.

or at least, her brain doesn't register it until her lips are quivering and eyes are warming.

"i- i... i'm." no coherent words are pushed out of her at the sight.

she recognises the familiar, twisted hay-brown fibres shaped into a slack circle. and she recognises the tight coils of a duncan knot mr finch had taught her and vivianne ages ago. her mind never categorised the two together because she'd never come across a material example of it but now her eyes refuse to shut and there's a wild hysteria collecting heat on her waterline.

she doesn't need to think of the implications an empty noose in the forest brings. "who's here!" especially when she doesn't recall seeing it last time around.

an icy breeze trails up her back and she bolts upwards, deliriously pulling at every strap of the backpack until they rest on her shoulders. she grabs eliza's wrist a little too hard. "we need to leave." she doesn't quite understand it: this terror of the unknown but there's something around them. she KNOWS there's something here. not someone, not someone. some. thing. and it's warning them to .l e a v e.

that's not it, that's not it! a child-like voice twinkles in her head and alix, swear to God, is on the brink of tears.

"stay behind me." there's no room for argument in her whispered order as she starts a mild jog to retrace the path they took to get here.
 
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"Thanks."

Dion passes the scissors to her and points the flashlight at the shabby little hut. It's pretty cool, in his opinion, that Alix and Vivianne managed to create that all by themselves with just the stuff that they had found in the wood. It must have taken ages to make, and the fact that it has stayed together all of this time without falling apart or any chipmunks coming and chewing through it? Amazing.

He watches as she cuts the ropes, resisting the urge to bounce in excitement because he needs to keep the flashlight steady. Vivianne had said she got something for him, and he was extremely excited. He didn't know what it was. She had insisted on keeping that a secret, and no amount of begging her to tell him or pouting ever made her budge. The only hint he'd ever gotten was "you're gonna love it" and, well, duh! Obviously he's going to love it. Vivianne could have given him a rock and he would love it, if only for the fact that it was a gift from her.

The unmistakable sound of twigs snapping against the ground snaps him away from his cheesy thoughts. He jumps, whirling around (though he never points the flashlight away from the hut. He wants to get this over with as fast as possible now.) That definitely wasn't the snip of the scissors as it cuts away the rope. It sounded like footsteps. He wants to believe that it's just another classmate or, hell, even a teacher or nun! That would at least be less creepy. The only problem is that there's something off about the sound that he can't quite put his finger on and it sends a chill down his spine.

He wants to make a joke about how he definitely isn't worried and Alix is just being a wuss, but the words get caught in his throat. He knows that it would be so obvious that he was lying if he were to force them out, so he simply nods and agrees, if only because he doesn't want to think of the other options. "Right. Wind."

The sheer force that Alix uses when taking the flashlight from him causes him to fall backwards, injured hand pressing against the sharp point of a stick and ow that really hurt, but he can't worry about that because he's looking in the direction that Alix is with wide, fearful eyes. He squints because he sees something, although he's not exactly sure what it is. It's only when his eyes adjust that he realizes what he's looking at: a noose, hanging from a tree, swaying gently. That's the creepiest part, to him. The air has gone completely still, so why the hell is that thing moving?

He doesn't argue when Alix pulls him roughly to his feet, nor when her panicked voice whispers "we need to leave" in his ear. He's sharing a similar sentiment. He stays behind her as the two of them walk, grateful that the taller one is still keeping a tight grip on his wrist as they jog back in the direction of the school. It's comforting. It reminds him that there's another person with him and he's going to be okay. They're both going to be okay. He doesn't pull away or tell her to let go, which he hopes is enough of a sign that he really doesn't want her to.
 


"display:none"-ed
 
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The rain falls from the sky with a harsh pitter-patter that Dion would normally find pleasant. Calming, even. He's always found the sound of rain to be a source of comfort for him. It's a bit of cruel irony now, how it has turned into the exact opposite in this moment — the droplets pelting against his skin are too hot (they burn, burn, burn, like boiling water. But he also feels like his insides are being frozen, so perhaps the heat is just his imagination) and make his uniform heavy against his skin. His legs ache with every forced step through the slug. There's mud and water in his shoes now, too. Disgusting. Dion can't help but feel like if there is a God, He likes to see people suffer.

He fumbles when Alix helps him up, feet and hands slipping around in a way that would have been almost comical as his shoes touch the ground on the other side. His entire body shakes. He isn't sure whether it's from the cold or the all-consuming fear that encompasses his entire being. It's probably both. He wraps his arms around himself; not for warmth, because it wouldn't do much good, but as though the feeling of his hands gripping onto his own shoulders will be able to protect him from. . . he doesn't know. But he has the overwhelming feeling that he needs protecting from something, and he doesn't know what else to do except this.

"O-Okay," Dion responds. He cringes at the trembles in his own voice as he goes to check the window latches. It's on the third one that he notices something strange, something in the distant. He squints to see it through the pelting rain. It looks like the silhouette of a figure, and his stomach drops because that's probably a teacher and the two of them are definitely in loads of trouble and —

Oh.

Oh.

The realization hits him slowly, even as the silhouette becomes more focused. He desperately wants to believe that he's imaging things. That he's still freaked out and maybe hallucinating. Hell, this is probably just a bad dream! Because there's no way that this actually happening. There's no way, no way, no way, no way, no way!

There's a dead body nailed to the tree.

Dion stares, eyes wide as he steps back. They stayed glued on the willow tree. The sight is almost hypnotizing, like a car crash that you can't look away from him. He hears voices, the voice of a nun, but it sounds as though someone is trying to talk to him while he's underwater. The only thing he can focus on is the dead body. His breath hitches in his throat, his heart pounding so hard and fast against his chest that it physically hurts. That's a teenage girl. That's someone who he went to school with not just some random person from a documentary...

He drops to his knees and gags, vomit splattering onto the marble floor.
 
everything after that moment is a blurry melange of continuous events that don't give alix any time to breathe. she sees eliza emptying out the disgust accumulating in her gut and wants to go help out, but then the lifeless eyes of the dead body beckon her to gouge out her own and replace them in cold sockets. she sees blood collecting around the puncture's in the poor girls arms and feels an overwhelming urge to wipe it off before any more drips to stain the tree, but then she's distracted by a flurry of footsteps and a horde of women clad in monochromatic habits appears to stand in the doorway.

"ladies," the prioress starts sternly, "just what are you do- sister?! miss hill, why is-" a gasp slashes her throat, hand raising to cover her mouth in disbelief. the tears and sobs that soak her and the other nuns feel like a reflexive action; it makes alix wonder why her own eyes feel so dry. despite the rain that implores her to pour emotion, her mouth tinges sour and irises remain dull. why don't i feel anything?

why don't i feel anything? the question clangs on her skull once as the vestals grab both living girls and drag them to bed. she isn't questioned by them again: they only silently deposit her in her room. through the crack of her door, she sees her floor-mates suddenly bound to their feet, turning the telephone off in an instant. there's concern and curiosity embedded in the ridges on their foreheads and the unique twists of their mouth. she'll pray tonight that none of them try questioning her either. the nun at her door moves her lips and alix vaguely knows she nodded her head before the woman left, but she has no clue what was said and what she agreed to.

a few minutes later, the nun is back with warm towels in her hand and finds alix frozen in the same spot she left the girl in, forming a pool of cold rainwater by her feet. if only it was deep enough to sink her, give her a forever with silence. the nun wraps the fluffy grey towel around alix's shoulders and looks genuinely remorseful. "what for?"

the woman seems taken aback. alix didn't realise she'd said it aloud. "why are you looking at me like that?" she's not the one whose family unknowingly lost a member, she's not the one who had to endure the torture of rusty, jagged nails slitting clean through her flesh, and she's certainly not the one emotionally distressed by the ordeal.

"because my dear, you're still a child." her voice is soft but her hands her softer when they cup alix's face. her lips are plush where they push against her forehead, and the breath that leaves her when she recites a prayer is warm on alix's skin. no, come back... no one could've prepared her for the devastation and the yearning when the nun pulls away, leaving with a quiet "good night, sweetheart."

she doesn't want to share this burden with any of friends including nanami who's watched enough slashers to be nearly immune to stories like these. what she wants, and what she needs is someone to sit with her tonight. like how her mother would: back home, whenever alix was upset, she'd go hide in the alcove under their stairs, and her mother would join her later, holding alix's head to her chest so alix would feel the hum in her chest when she sung her daughter songs alix remembered from her childhood nights.

if only her mother was here to comf- do you need comfort? the absolute hostility in the question hits the back of her head with enough force to break the moment in her knees, sending her crumpling to the ground. you're not even crying, stop playing the victim. the puddle of rainwater circling her only grows even when alix's dried herself, and she awakes in the morning with her cheeks stinging and eyes puffy. she awakes with throbbing head that refuses to recall the chain of events that lead to skids of dried brown down the thighs of her jeans but the torn skin tags pointing on her blood-red palms reiterate the story without anyone else having to.

she lays as a heap on the ground until there's a knock on her door. a head of straight black hair peeks in.

nanami's brought rubbing alcohol and white gauze, almost as if she anticipated the state she'd find alix in. she works in silence and re-wraps clean gauze around both of alix's hands. "thank you," the brunette croaks, throat scratchy and raw after a night spent pouring it out.

nanami only sends back a kind smile and selects a uniform from her closet too, neatly laying it down on the tidy bed. "do you want me to help you?" alix would've otherwise blushed at the suggestion but today, she looks away from nanami's blue eyes and shakes her head. "very well. i presume you won't be joining us downstairs for breakfast?" the following silence answers her question and she nods, "that's okay. i'll bring some up for you."

alix gets changed and waits, staring up at the white ceiling with no thoughts. she'd just convinced herself that the situation with mr finch hadn't anything to do with her; vivianne had told her she'd overheard the teachers praising the new recruit—the woman who'd been in charge of detention the other day—for having an intuitive talent that drove the scum out of their devout school. and now... she has to deal with this, whatever the ever-loving fuck it is.

the knock resounding through her room now is distinctive from the one before, and alix doesn't have to look up to see it's not nanami who just entered. the mature, unwavering voice only confirms it: "miss hill, the principal and prioress would like to speak with you." if it were any other day, alix might've frowned and argued she had nothing in her stomach yet, "yikes, at least let me eat first!" but today, she only nods and allows the nun to lead her outside and into the main building. she raps her knuckles on the imposing set of dark, high doors that she pushes open a moment later.

"ah, miss hill. please take a seat." the source of the sound is the kind-looking woman with painted nails and a coat resting unaided on her shoulders. she's sitting across from a solitary empty chair, fingers interlinked and placed on the cleared space of her desk. beside her stands a covered woman garbed in black and white; the golden crosier in her left hand signifying her as the prioress, and the pinched expression creasing her face as someone alix does not want to interact with. "good, thank you. please leave us sister amy, we'll call if need be," their principal—mrs clímaco—smiles at the nun who'd escorted alix here, and doesn't waste another tick! of the grandfather clock before her interrogation begins. "now, miss hill, i know you must have important classes to attend today so i'll make this quick: would you like to tell me what exactly you and miss chambers were doing out yesterday night?"

does she think we did it- ? the light-haired woman must sense the way panic strikes her posture because she's chuckling, "no need to be so stiff, darling. if you're honest, i'll only let you off with a week's worth of detention." she taps her nose, "i can tell when my students are being untruthful." her lighthearted demeanour reminds alix of her mother and she finds herself relaxing under the woman's gaze just a little.

not enough to spill her friends secrets. never that. so she reaches into the little bag of tightly-knit lies she'd tied last night and pulls out the one she finds most believable. there's tow routes to go from here: a self-sacrificial and a self-preserving one. she thinks of the ring braided into her coarse hair then remembers the way eliza's hand trembled last night. alix is a good girl, she knows what to do.

"it's my fault. i was- i wanted to, uh..." she feels the instant spike in her heartrate, humidity clinging to the back of her eyeballs. she's... doing this then: about to destroy her life for a girl she barely knows. if God doesn't recompense her greatly for this-

"elizaconfessedtome."

alix wants to kill herself.

"oh?" this is the first time the prioress speaks.

WHERE DID THAT COME FROM?! she wears her turmoil well because the receptivity from the women has only increased. WHY DID YOU SAY THAT?! she clears her throat, pinching her thumb between her nails, picking at the skin. "yeah, she uh... she called me outside last night, said she had something important she needed to tell me-"

"and what did you say to her?" mrs clímaco interrupts, propping an elbow on the desk and resting her face in both her hands. if alix didn't know any better, she'd think the woman was amused by this turn of events.

alix instinctively finds the titanium band woven into her hair, the metal barely cold on her fingertips. understanding visibly dawns on her audience's faces. it's no secret among the administration about alix's engagement. she knows questions had to be answered when a young man had phoned the school two years ago requesting an admission for a woman who was neither his wife, nor his sister. "i told her that i'm spoken for..."

mrs clímaco seems satisfied with that answer. "good girl. that's all i wanted to know. you're free to go now."

alix hears the bell ringing when she steps out and sees vivianne wildly waving both her arms at her from across the front garden. oh right, they have english literature together now. she walks forward, and tries to forget the collateral damage she'd selfishly evaded and launched straight at eliza—a girl she barely knows and, might she add, has never actually held a serious grudge against. does petty school drama really justify what alix had just caused?
 
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Everything happens in a blur of movements — gentle hands hoisting him to his feet and guiding him to his bedroom. He can hear the slosh of his still muddy shoes hitting against the floor (that's going to make a mess, he thinks, somewhere in the back of his mind.) The after-taste of vomit coats his tongue, burning and tingling in the back of his throat. His stomach twists. He blinks and looks down at his hand. He can see the small incision caused by one of his nails now that the band-aid had fallen off. He thinks about pressing his other finger against it, just to make sure that this is a dream, but he can't gather up the energy to even lift his arm.

Nothing feels real. He doesn't remember. . . he doesn't remember. What's going on? When had he stepped out in the hallway? There's still the sight of blood dripping down in front of his eyelids, masking the world around him with the sight of the dead girl nailed to an old tree like some sort of crude recreation of the infamous bible tale. He keeps his dull eyes on the ground as the image flashes through his mind, sprinkled in between thoughts of how that could have been one of them. That could have been Alix. That could have been him. They almost died. The thought is absolutely horrifying, and yet. All he can do is make a vague note of it, the low buzz in his ears consuming ever emotion he has.

He doesn't realize he's reached the door until the nun jostles his shoulder slightly.

"Miss Chambers?" she says, oh so soft and gentle. "Would you like me to get you a towel?"

Dion must have shaken his head, because her brows knit together in worry. "Are you sure?" she asks, then frowns heavily. She looks like she wants to argue with him. He can almost hear the argument on the tip of her tongue. After a moment, she simply sighs. "Very well, I suppose." She hesitates for a moment and then leans over to put her fingers through the boy's hair. "Get some sleep dear. You deserve it."

(Dion does not, in fact, get some sleep.)

***

Dion "awakes" the next morning by the sound of his door opening. He uses that term very loosely, for he had not even slept the night prior. He drifted in and out of consciousness occasionally, but not enough that he become unaware of his surroundings. Even when his eyes did manage to flutter shut for more than a few seconds, breath slowing into a relaxed pace, he was still aware of everything. He could hear the rustling of the trees, the rain pelting against his windowpane, and the ominous creaks that the building makes when nobody is awake to hear.

"Miss Chambers," he hears. "The prioress and principal need to speak with you. They've already spoken with your friend, Miss Hill."

Dion reluctantly pulls himself out of bed. He looks down at himself, and it only just occurs to him that he had never changed out of his wet clothes. They aren't that wet anymore, more damp than anything, yet still somehow stiff and uncomfortable. He pulls and tugs at the fabric of his pinafore that sticks to his chest all the way to the principal's office until he's seated in the leather chair straight across from Mrs. Clímaco's desk. She waves off the nun that had accompanied him there and turns to face Dion.

"Hello, Miss Chambers," she begins. Her voice is casual, friendly, and a painted smile graces her face. She tilts her head slightly. "My, you're shivering!" He is? "Are you alright, love? You look sick. Perhaps you should go take a warm shower after this, hm? It'll do you some good if you have a cold."

"What do you want." Dion deadpans. It doesn't come out as a question. He wants to get this over with as soon as possible.

Miss Clímaco has the audacity to chuckle, twirling a pen around in her fingers before setting it down gently, folding her arms in front of her. "Now, now, there's no need to rush. You don't have anywhere you need to be, after all. I wouldn't suggest going to classes today. But if you're really that eager to get started, I won't beat around the bush any longer: Alix Hill claims you confessed to her last night."

Dion's heart drops to his stomach.

"What?" he croaks.

The principal nods solemnly. She smiles at him — not in an expression of kindness or even disappointment, but of pity. He wants to punch that look right off of her hideous fucking face. "I'm sure you know that St. Anne's Academy has a very strict policy against that kind of behavior." She must mistake the tenseness on his face for fear that he had been caught, because she raises her hand up in the universal sign of don't speak. "Oh, you don't need to worry! I'm not going to punish you. I understand that girls your age go through phases and strays from the path of God. I just thought it was important to inform you that we do need to inform your parents of this incident."

He can hear the exact moment that his soul shatters into a million pieces. No, no, no! They can't tell his parents! They'll pull him out of school to keep a closer eye on him. Yeah, he hates this place with every fiber of his being, but this place has Vivianne and his home has nothing except for shame and disgust and the feeling of being trapped and he can't go back, he just can't! He won't survive.

He's bolting out of the office and down the hallway before Miss Clímaco gets the chance to dismiss him. He doesn't know where he's going, but he knows that he needs to get out of there as fast as possible. He bolts down the hallway, running past teachers and students alike. He's sure that some of them gasp or yell as he shoves them out of the way. He can't hear them over the roaring waves in his ears. He takes in a breath of air. It stops before it can reach his lungs. He tries again and again and again, but he can't breathe!

Dion, even in his confused and panic-induced haze, spots Alix. She's walking down the hallway with Vivianne. He freezes. The world continues to move around him, but he's stuck in place, anger bubbling underneath his skin. It's thick and black like tar, and he wants to kill her for throwing him under the bus like that. For blatantly lying to the principal's face and putting him in danger. Unfortunately, murder is very illegal and it would look way too suspicious if he were to just throttle her in front of all those people. Besides,he probably wouldn't even be able to reach her throat. So he does the next best thing.

He storms up to her without a single word and slams his knee into her stomach as hard as he possibly can.
 
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