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The deadline for the order placement is in six days. Which means there’s a bit more time to ponder this. Or maybe there’s time to ignore this, like Susie said to her two days ago in reference to their upcoming final in a few months, which Noelle is blissfully exempt from but she is absolutely not. (In fact, she’s barely scraping past complete expulsion.)
Staring at the screen with a determined squint does not stop it from taunting her. Suddenly it feels all too bright, and the edge of the table which the computer sits on feels all too sharp on her wrist. So Noelle retracts her hands and leans back in her chair, sighing one more time.
This might be a very bad idea. Perhaps even her worst one yet. Ever. Her mother would certainly disapprove if she ever fell privy to her daughter’s true intentions, and Berdly would certainly make fun of her. Kris wouldn’t say a word, but they wouldn’t have to– they would just act like the smirk on their face isn’t obvious.
And Susie… well, she might not even want it.
It would be foolish to deny that possibility. What if she doesn’t want it? Oh, it would be so humiliating if she didn’t want it. Noelle would present it to her, and an expression of confusion would take over her face, and she would probably ask, “the fuck?” and she would push it away, and Noelle would be forced to explode and then shrivel up and then die. In that order.
But still… Noelle wants to click. Her mouse lingers just a few pixels below the button.
There are excuses she can say, and she’ll say them to her mother, and to Berdly, and to Kris, and to Jockington, and to everyone else. Tell everyone the same excuse, Susie said to her once, and it’s no longer an excuse. It’s just what happened. The only potentially challenging aspect is remembering what excuse to tell everyone, but making it purposely vague is the key.
Noelle “misclicks.”
Clink. Clink. Clink.
This is fucking ridiculous. Has Susie seriously resorted to throwing rocks at her window at this sort of ungodly hour?
Clink. Clink. Clink.
Based on the various times she’s done this before, Noelle knows that she will refuse to stop until she’s either told to climb inside or go away (though Noelle has never actually meant the latter). So Noelle sits up in her bed, stretches with a squeak, and briefly rubs her tired eyes to see that it is… one-thirty. Never before has she been so bold as to do this after midnight, lest she risk Noelle’s mother hear her and ultimately end up a couple words on a tombstone.
The journey over to her window is only three or four steps, but trying to keep the tired clack of her hooves quiet is an astounding effort. She appears in the window and stays there for a moment, having learned the hard way not to open it immediately. The rocks stop, and she opens it.
Immediately, she’s bombarded with a waft of cold air. It’s more stunning than it is unpleasant– in fact, she might even say the chill feels nice on her coat, which grows thicker as winter approaches. But once she adjusts, and blinks a few times for good measure, she can focus on the figure below her and ask the very obvious yet incredibly relevant question:
“Susie! What are you doing!” Noelle whisper-screams. Instantly she cringes at how much her accusatory tone sounds like her mother.
There is a small beat in which Susie pauses. “Can I come in?”
Something is buried under her tone. Something lies six feet below that little pause, because Susie rarely thinks about her words. For a moment Noelle ponders it, her lips parting in confusion over why Susie has made such a request, because normally she’s asking for Noelle to join her, not the other way around. As she racks her brain for a logical answer, she sees the breath she’d just exhaled, and… oh.
“Of course!” Noelle barely manages to keep her voice to a whisper in her brief frenzy. “Just don’t scratch up the wall too badly. But– yes, yes, come in.”
Instead of responding with words, Susie just nods. (Which might be just a tad bit beyond Kris’ impact on her.) Noelle steps back into her room, ignoring the faint scratches of what has to be claws against brick. Aimlessly, her eyes dart around– good night vision does jack shit when you don’t know what you’re looking for.
Susie breathes a sigh of relief as soon as the window is all but slammed shut, but she still crosses her arms and pulls her un-zipperable jacket close. And, well– Noelle doesn’t need night vision to see how badly she shivers.
“Uh, thanks,” Susie mutters with a small smile. But just a small one. “To be honest, I didn’t think you’d answer. Y’know, ‘cause you’d be asleep.”
“I’m a light sleeper,” Noelle responds, before silence overtakes them both. She breaks it by asking, while fiddling with her fingers, “Uh, can you… see? Should I turn on the light?”
“Nah,” Susie shrugs, “I can see you fine.”
Noelle really hopes Susie isn’t just refusing her help, because turning on the light would actually be quite detrimental to this strange… meeting they’re having. Her mother could sleep through an orchestra, but a night light down the hall would wake her up.
“Okay, well,” she swivels on her hoof, and crosses over to her bed. With a determined look that she desperately hopes deters any defensive argument, she gathers her blanket and shoves it into Susie’s chest.
Of course the look doesn’t fucking work, and she only receives a confused look, as well as a baffled, “The hell?”
“Take it,” Noelle insists, her mind flashing with Dragon Blazers III as she attempts to channel the assertiveness her father observed and gleefully commended.
She can feel the lack of an object against her hand as it parts from the softness of the blanket’s fibers. Susie stands just before her, eyes spun with confusion but with the smallest thread of a smile weaved into her expression. Though distant, it’s familiar, enough to make Noelle’s mind run wild with the recollection of the only dream that’s ever stuck around.
If you could do something crazy right now, what would you do?
Fuck this. Even just one single more second of this roundabout overthinking will be too many. It’s tiring and it’s boring and it’s overdone, and Noelle is practically disgusted that she’s already let it fester for, what, ten seconds of conflicted deliberation? Maybe fifteen?
With thoughts of jumping out ferris wheel windows and gazing at the enchanted cityscape from afar dancing through her mind, Noelle reaches and touches Susie’s cheek with the back of her hand, lowering a concerned brow when it’s cold, even against her fur.
But this is not a dream, and this action is not inconsequential. Immediately Susie uncrosses her arms and mutters the beginning of freshly aggravated grumbles under her breath, but she immediately shuts up and goes still when she hears the smack of her hand against Noelle’s wrist. As if it’s any more possible, her face pales. Her eyes widen, and she retracts her hand frantically.
“Oh, fuck. I’m sorry. Sorry. Fuckin’– force of habit. I should definitely go.” She squeezes her eyes shut, as if she can’t bear to even look at Noelle anymore. The blanket falls pathetically to the floor with no one to hold it, and Susie pivots on her heel towards the window. And she very nearly opens it again, except–
Noelle grabs her calloused, cold hand. She takes it in both of her own, even if one of them undeniably stings (with pain that definitely dwindles by the second, anyhow, nothing that’s worse than any of her Cross Country stumbles). She hates how chilly it is, and she hates that Susie stood out there in just her un-zipperable jacket and fucked up, ripped jeans, and she despises how Susie still falls back onto the known certainty of refusing help. Even if it’s a habit that’s no fault of her own, which is infuriating in its own right.
So she doesn’t suggest, but instead instructs, “Get back in here. Take the blanket and sit on my bed. That window won’t open until you’re warm, okay? Consider it an apology.”
“But–”
“But what? You said it yourself– force of habit.” Noelle can’t deny how courageous it feels to keep her gaze locked in Susie’s obviously remorseful eyes and stand her ground. “You know what they say. Old habits die hard. Just stay here with me, okay? Even if that means ‘til sunrise.”
(And just beside courage stands pride, as she grants forgiveness to someone that barely knows its name.)
Susie nods, silently and hesitantly. As she does so, Noelle can very faintly feel her grip tighten, like she’s trying to take in the warmth herself. After that it’s a little comical, watching Susie wrap herself up in a blanket while acting like she doesn’t enjoy it. But there are no words of protest, probably because she knows she isn’t fooling anyone.
“Now, if you don’t mind me asking,” Noelle begins, sitting criss-cross on her bed beside the other girl, “what are you doing here? Why were you out there so late?”
“Uh…” Susie trails off, searching for a believable lie but dropping it when she sees the critical look being sent her way. “Got locked out again. Usually I’d head to QC’s, but it was closed.”
“What? But QC’s closes at, like, twelve! Were you walking around Hometown in the cold for an hour?”
“It’s been worse,” Susie shoots back, as if defending herself from being accused of a high crime. “I just didn't wanna go to Kris’ house because Toriel would insist on having me stay. At least your mom fuckin’ hates me.”
There’s no point in trying to deny that. While Noelle can only imagine what her mother must have said to get such an angry, dejected look on Susie’s face as she slammed the car door shut the night of prom, she can vividly remember the harsh words she received when she returned home that night.
“What, uh…” Noelle prepares to ask the question she knows won’t get an answer to. “If it’s not… too much, um… what happened for you to get locked out?”
Susie’s silence is nothing but a crystal clear indication that such a question was, in fact, too much. She pulls the edges of the blanket inward, and stares directly at the floor.
“Sorry,” Noelle frantically adds just a couple seconds later. “That was intrusive.”
Susie just shrugs. “I mean… yeah. Kinda. All you need to know is that I’m here now.”
Even through her mild embarrassment, Noelle grins at the trueness of the last statement. She scoots over to her left a little, so the two are closer, and pretends not to notice the way Susie leans over.
“Yep. ‘Til sunrise.” Noelle declares it proudly, until she realizes… there’s nothing to do until sunrise.
An idea dawns on her, and she wordlessly hops off her bed and crosses the room to her desk, grabbing the small controller off it and going right back to take her rightful spot beside Susie.
“Want to play Dragon Blazers III?”
Briefly, Noelle wishes she could instantaneously take a picture of Susie’s contagious, mischievous grin. It’s different from the maniacal grin she uses to threaten people with unfathomable violence– this one is wider and clearly less rehearsed.
Inwardly, Noelle has run to the moon and back four times. And a half. But outwardly, she’s frozen in time, enough that it startles her when Susie exclaims, “Hell yeah I do!!!”
Without another word she takes the blanket and wraps it around both her and Noelle. (Along with her arm, but who’s counting, haha, right?) So, of course, as one can imagine, Noelle wants nothing but to scream at the top of her lungs, because frankly the only bad thing about this is that there is nowhere for her ecstatic energy to go. It’s just bundled up inside her. But… you know, she can’t possibly complain. A little extra energy is a very small price to pay to play Dragon Blazers III with Susie! While fucking sharing a blanket!
Noelle takes away two very important things from that night. One: Susie is an excellent Dragon Blazers player, and has a half hour’s worth of thoughts on the lore of the game, even if her theories are all based on plotholes that will likely be solved in future installments of the game; but then again, it’s not her fault the developer is taking a million years to release all the installments. And two: Noelle’s father was absolutely right about nearly everything he said concerning Susie, and she will have to tell him all about this during her next visit.
Maybe… just maybe… Noelle has underestimated the size of this fuck up.
She’s had well over six days to ignore this. Probably almost three whole weeks have passed since she claimed victory in her battle against the mockery of her computer screen– but now it’s quite clear to her, in bright hues of red and gold, that the computer screen may have won this war.
What was she thinking when she clicked that? How could she possibly have thought through such an awful plan and still gone through with it? Because now her mother will pester her, and Berdly will laugh at her, and the only thing to accompany Ms. Alphys’ confused expression will be a nervous laugh and a half-hearted comment. Kris will snicker, and Susie will…
Oh no. Susie won’t even want it, will she? She’ll just get embarrassed and turn away, and Noelle will explode and then shrivel up and then die. In that order. It’ll be the most humiliating experience of her life.
This jacket falls past her knees; if she lets her arms hang at her sides, she can barely feel the fabric of it against her fur. Her hands are no longer existent, instead buried somewhere in the sleeves which extend probably a forearm’s length past her fingertips.
It’s just like Dess’ old varsity jacket, in all it’s crimson-gold glory.
On their right shoulders, their first names are written in the same loopy font; and on their left, the same bulky capital ‘H’ is craftily stitched on. The same gold accent runs around their collars and down the seam of their white sleeves, where the same twin stripes run around their cuffs.
And… Noelle’s antlers are smooth, just as her younger self wished they would be as she gazed at her older sister with teary-eyed admiration. They bear the same white freckles, the same tight curls, the same dimples and the same double-jointed elbows.
But now they’re in the same jacket. Even despite their drastically different hues of hair and polar opposite temperaments, all Noelle can see in the mirror before her is the spitting image of her sister, bundled up in the last jacket anyone ever saw her wear. So instead she looks at her nose, and tries to think about how it could literally light up a room in the ideal conditions, but all Noelle can see in her memory is the image of her mother’s nose glowing with panic (and the hasty explanation that everyone’s nose glows for different reasons) just before her father ran out into the worst recorded snowstorm of the decade. Along with it she can practically feel the fibers of the Dreemurrs’ living room rug on her fingers; she can vividly recall the only time which she has ever heard Asgore raise his voice, to command his son to stay put. And she can still hear the empty promise that followed, but it tastes bitter in her mouth to know that Asriel got false hope while she only got a couple of Toriel’s sugar cookies.
Despite the sharp morning wind slashing against her face, Noelle carries her jacket out to the car, folded over her arm twice.
Foolishly she climbs into the car, hoping to high hope that her mother will fail to notice it; or perhaps will choose to keep any words she might have to herself.
“Noelle, darling, what is that on your arm?”
Damn it.
“It’s our new Cross Country varsity jacket,” is the only truth she plans to tell. “I was, um, a little hot inside. So I took it off for the walk to the car.”
Her mother squints at her critically through the rearview mirror. “In this type of wind?”
“Well, you know. My coat has been getting a little thicker the past week as winter gets closer, so…” Noelle shrugs, momentarily proud of herself for coming up with such an indisputable excuse on the spot. “If I get cold at any time throughout the day, I’ll put it back on. Promise.”
Clearly, the jacket folded over her arm to corroborate that statement is enough to satisfy her mother’s see-it-believe-it style of investigation. After a moment of mild internal debate, she simply looks away from the rearview mirror and puts it in drive. Noelle diligently follows her daily routine of silently staring out the window the entire car ride.
Her mother’s job begins about a half-hour before the homeroom bell. Therefore, Noelle has grown quite versed in sitting in peaceful silence with Ms. Alphys. Or, well, near silence, save for the furious clack of the teacher’s keyboard and the unintelligible grunts of… decision? Or perhaps lack thereof. Regardless, she works on that while Noelle quietly reads her book.
This week’s book, not to mention, is excellent. Noelle is a small bit less than halfway through it, and her eyes are glued to her page when–
“Greetings, Noelle!” Someone calls as the door swings open. “A fine morning, is it not?”
Noelle softly huffs and restrains herself from snapping the book closed. She gently shuts it instead, but not without some irritated tension in her hands. “Good morning, Berdly. You ended up finishing the math homework, right?”
Berdly lets his backpack drop onto his seat. He nods proudly as he unzips it and digs out his notebook. Holding the notebook up in the air like it’s a newly discovered ancient treasure, he declares: “And I did so with haste!”
Last night was the fourth time in three weeks that Berdly has asked Noelle for notes. She doesn’t know what has gotten into him lately, but she will savor the opportunity to finish her sentences regardless.
Noelle is just a split second away from nodding agreeably and opening her book once more when the bell rings. Jockington slithers in wearing his own varsity jacket with pride (it’s unclear how he actually wears it, but that’s none of Noelle’s business), and the door stays open behind him just long enough to be grabbed by… Susie?
Noelle has to blink a few times to believe it. Susie showed up… on time? (Kris is just behind her, but that’s more characteristic of them.)
Unlike Berdly, she has no backpack to dump onto her seat, so she just wordlessly claims the spot behind Noelle. Kris puts their backpack on the floor after sitting in their seat beside her. Those two have definitely just taken someone’s seats, but… Noelle is in her usual, rightful spot, so she won’t protest. Yeah!
“Noelle!” Jockington calls from his own seat. “Did your jacket come in?”
Timidly, she replies, “Uh, yes, I have it right here. But I think something, um, went wrong with mine?”
“Well, lemme see it,” Jockington replies sincerely.
Now she has no choice. With a defeated sigh Noelle stands and unfolds the jacket, staring straight at the floor as she puts it on. Inwardly she hopes it’ll magically fit properly. But that’s not scientifically sound in any way, so it falls past her fingertips and all the way down to below her knees in precisely the same way as it did this morning. It’s nearly longer than her skirt, in fact.
“Was getting it four sizes too big, um…” Jockington pauses, briefly searching for the words and finally landing on, uncertainly: “A stylistic choice?”
“I misclicked on the website!” Noelle snaps back defensively, as if accused of a high crime. She immediately begins to take the jacket off, glancing over to Susie, who appears to be silently– yet intently– observing her.
“Oh, uh, hi Susie,” Noelle pathetically fails to form even the most basic of sentences to recover from that small outburst, so her face goes a little red with the relatively mild humiliation (and maybe something else, too).
“Hey,” Susie responds evenly. How she manages to be so cool all the time is far beyond anything Noelle can fathom.
“Oh! Hello, Susie,” Ms. Alphys greets, the intonation of pleasant surprise present just behind her typical nervousness as she asks, “are you, um, here for the- the test review?”
Susie looks at her blankly for a moment. “There’s a test?”
“Yes, um, tomorrow. That’s why we’re… reviewing today,” Ms. Alphys answers.
“Yup,” Susie pops the ‘P’ and leans back. “Got it. Understood.”
Perhaps the conversation would have blissfully ended at that. Actually, it should have, but clearly, nothing can ever be blissful.
“Do you even know the first thing about what we’re doing, Susan?” Berdly interjects, turning in his seat. “I’d be surprised if you paid attention even once.”
Susie glares at him. “I told you my name isn’t Susan.”
Berdly replies loudly, and Susie shoots back even louder, but Noelle just leans over to the side and digs through her backpack to find her pencil-case, because there’s no writing utensil on her desk.
And while she’s down there, wholly separated from the world, she… considers something. A few things, actually– she considers the piled-up jacket on her lap; she considers the clink clink clink of her bedroom window; she considers the glimmer she saw in Susie’s surprised eyes when she guessed the correct answer to a multiple-choice question. Most of all, she considers sitting at a picnic table under a late May moon, electrified by the mere prospect of stealing Asgore’s truck again if it meant feeling that sort of thrill one more time.
When she rejoins the physical world, she elects to feel that same thrill again, and makes a decision she knows for a fact her mother would despise.
“Hey– Susie,” she turns around and mutters below the faint stumbles of Ms. Alphys and the scrapes of chalk behind her. “Do you… actually know what we’re doing?”
“Just a little bit,” she admits defensively, though Noelle can’t tell if she’s denying the allegations of paying attention to class or not. “Why d’you care?”
“I wanted to ask, if you, uh… wanted me to help you study. You know, for the test.” Boom! Take that, Mayor Holiday.
Susie’s eyes are wide in shock for a moment, before she apparently realizes the lapse in her act and assumes a more relaxed expression. Unbothered, she answers: “I mean, Kris said they’d give me five bucks if I remembered anything important.”
“Susie!” Noelle whisper-screams, somewhat jokingly appalled. “You shouldn’t use money as an incentive for learning!”
“Well, five bucks is five bucks,” she shrugs. “And all the angles of a triangle are one-hundred eighty degrees. Am I right, Kris?”
Susie holds her hand out, beaming with satisfaction (and pride, though it’s buried under the surface) as Kris huffs, leans down to their bag, and fishes through it for a long moment just to retrieve a dollar bill. With a displeased frown, they deposit the bill into Susie’s outstretched hand.
Noelle is speechless for a moment before responding. “We will… work on that. Does my house at, uh… sunset work?”
“Ugh, am I gonna have to climb in through the window again?” Susie groans, “I don’t wanna use my grappling hook. It’s inconvenient.”
Noelle leans forward in sheer disbelief. “You have a grappling hook?”
Susie snickers. “Nah. I made that up.”
With her arms crossed in irked disappointment, Noelle turns back to the board. Everything written on the board is stuff she knows like the back of her hand, but others need it, so… she just rests her hands on her lap and thinks about the very near future.
Clink. Clink. Clink.
That sound never gets any less irritating. Truly. But this time Noelle is expecting it, so she’s able to open the window before it persists for very long.
Momentarily, Noelle tries to burn this image into her memory: Susie stands on the ground below (as eagerly anticipated), splashed in the sun’s final farewell, holding a small pile of rocks in her hand as she looks up, eyes wide and wonderstruck. So much so that it’s enough to make Noelle begin a short investigation to confirm that, yes, the side of her house is the same brick pattern as always. So what is she looking at?
That doesn’t matter right now. It’s rude to keep a guest waiting, so Noelle leans over the windowsill, out into the already-chilly late autumn air, and asks with a grin, “Brought your grappling hook?”
“No good time like property damage!” Susie replies, the words accompanied by something of a guffaw. That’s one of the things she does best– she can fill up a room with her thundering laugh without even trying. It’s a bit of rowdiness Noelle needs in her life.
“Great! Come on up!” Noelle disappears through the window once more, though in her excitement she hits her antlers on the window-frame with a pained, “Ow!”
It’s a minor setback, and an understandable one; Noelle wouldn’t exactly call herself an expert at sticking her head out windows. When she was a child without the antlers she dons now, her father would let her stick her head out the window on summertime drives, because it was the closest thing to the freedom of riding in the back of Asgore’s truck with Dess, Asriel, and Kris. But since the sticks on her head have grown in, she hasn’t been a fan.
When Susie’s hand reaches the windowsill, Noelle rushes over to take her other hand and help pull her up– even if Susie is considerably larger, heavier, and has done this herself various times, it’s still pleasant to feel somewhat helpful.
And even when Susie is safely inside the room, her grip lingers firmly, like trying to deny some inevitable fate of never feeling it ever again once it’s gone. Noelle doesn’t mind, of course, so she won’t dare say a word about it, but she certainly notices. And clearly Susie does, as well, because she looks down to their conjoined hands and immediately lets go with a startle, as if she hadn’t been aware of it whatsoever until catching sight of it.
“So, um…” Susie clamps both her hands to her side like a magnet (probably to hide the way her tail violently wags, so Noelle won’t dare mention it), gripping the cuff of her sleeve. “…Math. Am I right.”
“Yes!” Noelle blurts out in response, grinning unnaturally and turning away. “Um, Ms. Alphys gives two tests per chapter so our assessment grade doesn’t tank if we do badly on one. For your purposes, it just means you only have to know a few things. As opposed to a lot of things. You’ll get the hang of it in no time, I promise.”
It would be a lie to say that Susie wasn’t… reluctant at first. To put it simply. Though Noelle immediately knew not to verbally acknowledge the connection as soon as the thought breached her mind, it seemed to her that Susie exhibited the same habit Berdly has during their few-and-far-between study sessions– they would both stare at a problem for a minute straight, as if the answer would magically appear before them. But when Berdly would typically begin to write seemingly random variables and somewhat relevant numbers, Susie would continue staring.
In both cases, Noelle would offer help. And where Berdly would immediately refuse and insist on solving the problem for himself, by himself, Susie was silent for a long moment before finally caving and asking for a hint. Not the answer, but a little nudge in the right direction. Noelle obliged, calmly informing her that the proportions of similar triangles are found by simply cross-multiplying. Susie nodded, having clearly just listened to that information and absorbed it, but… there was nothing else.
It would also be a lie to deny that this study session moved rather slowly, like the times in church Father Alvin felt particularly energetic. And yet, Noelle wouldn’t have it any other way– by the time forty-five minutes pass, Susie knows what a hypotenuse is. Even if she hasn’t been able to remain perfectly calm, her moments of frustration are short and easily tamed. Which takes effort. And that is, above all, the best thing Noelle could possibly ask for.
(Not to mention, there is a specific gleam that flashes in her eyes when she gets a question right on the first try; and when Noelle is explaining something, her focus lingers on the paper attentively. When she throws her head back in frustration, she snaps it back immediately, staring with a blankly confused expression when Noelle simply shrugs and assures her they have plenty of time. How it disgusts Noelle to know she's the first to display some semblance of patience toward her friend.)
It’s nearly eight o’clock– their study session has winded down so much it’s all but over– when there’s a knock at Noelle’s door.
Susie, wide-eyed, snaps her gaze to Noelle, who immediately points to her walk-in closet. If not for the circumstances, it would be downright comical to witness Susie scramble to her feet and bolt to the closet as quickly as she can. She leaves the door open, which creates a pang of anxiety in Noelle’s chest, but she hides behind the rack of hanging clothes.
The closet light is off, as well, which is enough for Noelle to say, somewhat frantically: “Come in!”
Noelle’s mother opens the door with a perplexed squint stamped on her face. “I just came home and I… thought I heard something? Are you okay up here?”
“Just fine,” Noelle nods unconvincingly. “As you can see, I’m studying for tomorrow’s math test, but, um… I got a little distracted. And the Dragon Blazers boss kept beating me. I guess I got frustrated, sorry.”
There is a beat of silence, and then there is a sigh. “I know your father is a fan of that game. But we’ve talked about the consequences of letting all this come between your schoolwork, haven’t we?”
“And letting it come between my schoolwork will ultimately prevent me from being as successful as I can be,” Noelle echoes, hollowly quoting those various conversations nearly word-for-word.
“Exactly,” her mother smiles with satisfaction. “Roasted cauliflower soup for dinner tonight. It’ll be ready in about an hour.”
Noelle wordlessly nods, and the door shuts. When she hears footsteps recede from the doorway, she presses her ear to it; and when she hears footsteps begin down the stairs, she turns back around to the closet, which Susie stands in the doorway of.
“Why didn’t you close the door?”
“‘Cause your mom would’ve heard me slam the door behind me and gotten close to inspect it,” Susie answers. Clutching the cuffs of her sleeve, she adds rather meekly, “I should go. That was too close. And you shouldn’t get in trouble ‘cause of my stupid ass.”
Noelle very nearly scolds her– how dare she diminish all the effort she’s put into the last two hours? Why can’t she just fucking see herself the way Noelle sees her?
Instead, she feels the fire of bravery burst alight in the back of her mind, and takes a step forward to say, “We have another hour! My mother won’t come up here again unless I start screaming bloody murder. And, look,” Noelle pauses, taking Susie’s big hand in her own and immediately wondering where in the fucking world she obtained such boldness, “even if she does find us, what will she do? She’ll take away my Dragon Blazers, boo-hoo. I’ll survive.”
Susie ponders that. “Don’t you think she could, like… expel me, or something?”
“Tell me, do you think Ms. Toriel and Ms. Alphys would let her do that?”
Susie also ponders that. “I don’t see why not. Not like I’m a fucking star student.”
“But you’re willing to try, you’ve shown me that much,” Noelle insists. As much as she wishes she could stand there for an hour, tell Susie all the things that make her so delightful to be around– the little and the loud– she can’t. So with a sigh, she relents: “Fine. But before you go, I, uh… wanted to give you something.”
No kind of math could possibly baffle Susie as much as the prospect of a gift. Before she can dare protest, Noelle marches past her and into the closet, grabbing the jacket which taunts her all the way from its hanger.
“Take this,” Noelle says, pushing the jacket towards Susie. “You saw how big it is on me. Comically big. So… you take it.”
“The fuck?” Susie can’t help but respond as she inspects it. “This says ‘Noelle’ on it. And it’s got ‘HTHS Cross Country’ on the back, which I’m not part of.”
This decision is right. Noelle had looked in the mirror and practically shuddered with the feeling of wrongness which washed over her. It’s not her jacket, and she does not want it to be her jacket.
“But it’ll keep you warm,” she finally says something out loud, inwardly recalling the countless winter days Dess spent in something identical. “Even just during the nighttime. If you want, I could keep it for you during the day so it’s not too suspicious. Or you could just come and ask for it if you ever get locked out again. Whatever you want.”
There is a silence which feels very long. This might be a very bad idea. Perhaps even her worst one yet. Maybe she’ll die ten seconds from now, via exploding and then shriveling up. Maybe Susie might just jump out the window and never speak to her again. The possibilities are truly endless when you go through with such a bad idea.
“Fine,” Susie determines, promptly taking off the cool, muted purple of her cardigan and replacing it with dazzling shades of gold and crimson. “Uh… thanks.”
Her gratitude is expressed awkwardly, but she almost immediately starts beaming. The jacket fits her wonderfully, and Noelle promptly decides that she is never, ever taking back that jacket. She can’t even answer for a moment, because she knows how much Dess would laugh at how much her little sister is lovestruck. Her dad will, as well, which makes her rather glad she “misclicked” on that website.