Work Text:
Streams of morning light bounce off the enormous mirrors that hung from the sickeningly pink walls of Agatha's room. Sophie would have loved this, she thought eyeing the mural that enveloped the room with a fancy display of princesses and princes.
Agatha squints and brings her hands up to her face. She rests her palms over her eyes before dragging her hands down her pale face while releasing a satisfying groan. She sees the shadows and hears the noise of Monday morning outside her bedroom door; the tinkling chatter of fairies, giggling between shared gossip, textbooks hitting the tile floor, the faint clicks of high heels making there way down the glittering stairs of the Purity tower, but Agatha makes no effort to get up.
Oh, how desperately did Agatha want to go home. She missed her mom, her room, and that ugly, mangy cat of hers.
But most of all she missed Sophie.
Agatha had grown to look forward to the blonde showing up at her door, butterless biscuits in hand, geared up in her frilliest, prettiest dress for a day of "good deeds". Although she was just across the Halfway bridge, Sophie felt miles away. Agatha stares out the window, past the School Masters tower.
She wonders if Sophie misses her too.
Agatha flips over, burying her face into the silk white pillows and screams. What was wrong with her? She needed to get out of here.
She needed to go back home, where everything was normal and boring, where she could lock herself in her room and read through the stack of dusty fairytales she kept next to her creaky bed and pretend they were just that: fairytales. She would rot there until Sophie would stop by and flash her a princess smile, practically begging for Agatha to emerge from her grave and take a walk down to the lake with her. She would tell herself that Sophie had plenty of other friends.
Normal, prettier friends.
Sophie didn't have to come all the way to the edge of town, to a deserted, dying house atop a neglected cemetery to spend time with a friend. She didn't have to.
Agatha would walk beside Sophie, close enough that she could easily slip her crackly, bony fingers into Sophie's soft, manicured one. The raven-haired girl would only be half-listening to what the princess would be saying. It was never anything of importance anyway.
They would eventually stop near a creek, overgrown with mushrooms and tiny, wildflowers that matched Sophie's crystal eyes. They would sit and eat and talk until the sun was gone and the day with it. Sophie would always walk Agatha home and kiss her goodnight, before making her way back to the village, even if it made her extremely late to yet another uncomfortable dinner with her father and his precious Honora. Later, Agatha would lay in bed and wonder if it was all a "good deed". If Sophie was so obsessed with being good and evil and princesses, as to sacrifice her social status and friends and any chance of a normal life just to eat biscuits and cucumbers with a witch.
Agatha lay now, not on her worn down, moldy mattress from home, but under a white silk canopy on a king-sized bed wondering the same thing.
A chime of bells interrupts her game of "she loves me, she loves me not" as Agatha lifts her head, pillow marks lining her face, in search for the source of the music. A small, carriage shaped clock vibrates on top of the nightstand next to her bed, it glitters like everything else in this school seems to do and Agatha thinks of stealing it to give to Sophie. With Agatha stuck in pink prison and Sophie in her own, personal hell across the School for Evil, there was no way they would ever see each other again.
Agatha needed to find a way to get out of here and past that bridge.
Agatha set her jaw.
She almost falls to the floor as she stumbles out from the mound of fluffy blankets and slams a hand on the clock to shut it up. She quickly stuffs her white, scrawny body through the sleeveless pink uniform. She was going to fix this mistake and send them home.
But first, she needed to save her best friend.