Chapter Text
One time Christopher was busy looking for unsmashed mirrors in his big ass house after Say dropped Arc off there because they were busy trying to be a Normal Person™ and couldn’t have him jeopardizing that so Arc was all alone and didn’t know what to do. But then he got an idea: since Chris was so nice and helped him kill people (like a good friend would) he would return the favor and make him dinner. He vaguely remembered eating something called “lasagna” once that made him throw up, but maybe Chris could eat it since he was human before he died.
Creeping down the stairs and into the kitchen, he stood on his toes and opened the cabinet, feeling around until he caught a box in his hands. He couldn’t actually see what was on the label, bandages and all, so he sniffed the box, sneezing from the layer of dust coating the top. But besides that, it smelled enough like pasta, so he tore the box open with his nails. The noodles weren’t as flat as he was looking for, more long and twisted, like Chris’s spine. He figured he might like it better that way. He knelt down to grab a pot from the cabinet under the counter and put it onto the stove.
He poured the box into the pot and turned the heat on, then leaned on the counter to wait for the noodles to cook. He tried to think of how impressed his friend and his sibling would be when this was done. No longer would he be called mean things like “freak” or “stupid” or “not allowed in Dunkin Donuts ever again.” He smiled until he noticed that it smelled like something was burning. He was confused until he realized that he hadn’t put water in the pot. So he grabbed a cup off the counter and quickly filled it with water, pouring it into the pot, hearing it hiss as it hit the hot surface, blowing steam into his face.
He did this several times until the pot was full, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. That could have been bad, he thought to himself, trying to remember what else was in the mysterious “lasagna” dish. He remembered that there was meat in it so he jumped out the window and went looking for an animal. He didn’t really know what kind. After exactly 2 minutes and 37 seconds of wandering the streets he caught a scent in the air. It was definitely that of a living creature. He lifted his bandages up for a second. There, illuminated by a streetlight, was a mother deer and her child, standing tall, eyes reflecting a greenish hue towards him. They appeared in that moment like the physical embodiment of grace, in the pure silence, faintly lit by the streetlight’s orange glow.
Arc sprinted towards the animal and punched it so hard its head flew off. The fawn ran off as Arc smiled in satisfaction and dragged it back to Christopher’s house by the leg. He immediately got to work cutting it up, but found that he couldn’t fit all of the meat from the deer into the pot, so he put everything he couldn’t fit into Chris’s freezer, including the skin and bones. He remembered something red poured all over it, which he assumed to be blood. He hacked away at the remaining pieces of the animal’s thigh, tearing flesh from bone with great frustration.
Eventually he got enough meat to fill half of the pot, more than twice the amount of noodles at this point. He poured as much blood as he could into a separate bucket, hoping it would be enough for the sauce. Just then he heard a loud crash, which startled him, causing him to drop the bucket in order to cover his ears.
“ DIE, YOU SHINY SON OF A BITCH! ” Another crash. Of course, it was just Chris. It seemed like he’d finally found a mirror somewhere. Arc didn’t know why Chris hated mirrors so much, but it didn’t really bother him that much except for when it made his ears start bleeding. It wasn’t THAT weird compared to what Arc did, anyway. Arc looked down at the mess on the floor, getting a towel to clean it up. He didn’t think it was that big of a deal, as long as the sauce was red he thought it should work. So he looked on the shelf for a bottle of ketchup and dumped the entire thing into a bowl along with whatever blood he could get from the floor.
He strained his… creation… in the sink and then put it on a plate and dumped the ketchup on it. Then he realized he forgot to add cheese so he opened the fridge to try and find some until there was a knock on the door. Arc recognized that knock: it was his sibling Say. He immediately dropped what he was doing and opened the door. Say looked about as exasperated as usual, until they noticed the absolute mess behind him.
“Arc?”
“Yeah?”
“...What is that?”
Arc looked behind him.
“Lasagna.”
Say facepalmed, sighing and staring at the floor. “Arc, we can’t even eat lasagna.” Arc brought his hands up. “Oh, no, it’s not for me, it’s for Chris!!” He went back and started wrapping the entire thing in tinfoil. Christopher appeared from the hallway at that moment with shards of glass stuck to his clothing and immediately screamed. “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO MY KITCHEN?!” his voice was full of more fear and agony than Arc had ever heard from anyone before, and he just stared in confusion at him for a bit before holding the tinfoil abomination up at him. “I made lasagna,” he said. Chris ran away crying.
Arc didn’t understand. Maybe Chris was allergic? He walked out of the house with Say, unaware that he left the stove on. As they walked home, he stared at his lasagna, unsure what to do with it since Chris didn’t like it and he couldn’t eat it either. When they finally got home he stared at the ceiling for 6 hours with the lasagna sitting on his chest. Then he finally got an idea. He got up, went to his laptop and opened the CD drive.