Chapter Text
“Listen up Mount Rageons,”
He couldn’t take it anymore. He released his balled-up hands and held them up.
Veneer spoke every word slowly, making sure to enunciate each one.
“We… Are… FRAUDS!”
Finally the dam broke and all the stress he had been harbouring began to melt away. Of course he felt Velvet's eyes burning holes into him, but he didn't care at this point. Eat or be eaten, he thought.
"And we've literally been torturing little trolls!"
The crowds gasps echoed all around, enveloping the both of them.
"We just wanted to be famous..."
Eat or be eaten, it rang in his head, repeating over and over again. Maybe he couldn't save his skin, but maybe he could save his image.
"Or rather my sister wanted to be famous."
…
Like he thought, it wasn't enough to save his skin. He didn't even realise Crimp was there in the first place. But it's okay, it doesn't really matter. He knew deep down that they were always going to be found out, it was just a matter of when, and he knew that at least his sentence would have been shorter since he admitted to the crime.
He tried to talk to Velvet, tried to soften the blow of his attempt to throw her under the bus and convince her that this was the right thing to do, or at least, that it was the safest thing to do, "I mean, it could have been a worse sentence, right? 22 months? That will fly by in no time, and we've got a chance at parole too!"
The Velvet he knew would have rolled her eyes and groaned something about how they'd need to do community service or something, but no. She said nothing, she did nothing, it's like he wasn't even there. Typical, he thought.
It wasn't because she didn't see him, like he claimed she'd done his whole life. Velvet would have responded, but she couldn't bring herself to. Now that the reality, the weight of the situation had fully hit her, she didn't feel angry, she felt a bit afraid, but mainly, she felt numb. She would have turned to look at him, but she was numb. She would have scoffed or even yelled, but she just felt numb. She could have done anything, anything to acknowledge him, the thing he wanted so badly from her, but no. It had been the emptiest she had felt in a long time.
And to rub salt in that festering wound, they just had to be cell mates. At least the cell was cosy, since, luckily, they were in one of those more experimental reformatory prisons. And thank God they didn't have bunk beds.
Veneer looked at Velvet from across the room. It was such a short distance between them, and she just felt so far away. He tried to talk to her, every day, he made an attempt. From when he'd wake up, to lunch or even before she headed to the showers, he'd say hello and try to start a friendly conversation. He would have taken anything. An observation about the weather, a snarky remark about his currently below average hair, anything. All he wanted was someone to talk to. He tried his hand at the other convicts, but he quickly realised that people weren't in the mood to chat with a green haired, bushy tailed kid. Everyone he met all had a similar vibe to Velvet. A thousand-yard stare, a strained redness to their eyes, a relaxed, almost lazy posture, and yet their necks seemed perpetually tensed.
All he wanted was his sister to say something. He'd even take a scolding. The more he tried to get her attention, the more bitter and angry he became. Velvet was curled up on her bed, her back facing the world. Veneer opened his mouth to speak but be paused. Why should I keep trying to be nice?
It's not my fault, is it? He thought. All I did was the right thing, and this is how she reacts? She just doing what she always does, classic Velvet!
His face twisted into a sour sneer.
He made his way over to Velvet's bed and towered over her. She still refused to look at him. He pressed his fingernails into his hands.
"God dammit Velvet! Would it kill you to just look at me!?" He cried, "I have done so much for you, and yet you treat me like this? My whole life, you've ignored me, treated me like I'm beneath you or some sh--t, and just when I thought you could change, you choose not to. Some sister you are!"
Veneer noticed Velvet stiffen. Finally, something had gotten through to her. Veneer felt triumphant, but quickly felt a surge of anxiety. The statement lingered in the air a lot longer than he wanted it to, with Velvet not reacted as fast as he had hoped. Eventually, she relaxed her muscles and slowly rolled over to face him. He flinched, waiting for her response.
"Could you pass me your scrunchy?" She mumbled, "Since you aren't using it.
His jaw dropped slightly, taken aback from her sheer audacity.
Veneer scoffed, "Is that literally all you have to f--king say?" He spoke his thoughts aloud, no need for a filter this time.
She sighed, her voice sounded weak, rusty from not being used, "Will you lend me one or not?"
He released his palms from their death grip, sighing, "Yeah okay." He fetched one of the tattered scrunchies from off of the floor and threw it at her. It stuck to her forehead like wet paper to a bathroom ceiling. Veneer chuckled as Velvet comically peeled the foul thing from her face.
"Ew," she quietly exclaimed to no one in particular. It was probably the nicest way she'd ever reacted to anything, but at least it was kinda sassy. She begrudgingly tied her up her hair and resumed her attempt at sleeping.
Veneer went back to his own bed as the guards were calling for lights out. He could help but smile just a little bit. That's the Vels I know, he thought. As he waited for sleep to come, he traced the fingernail indents in his palms. He really needed a manicure.
Who do I have to beat up around here for a nail file, he thought, or suck off. He cringed at his own thoughts. What the f--k is wrong with me?
He was awoken by someone gently tapping him on his shoulder. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open and, stood by his bed, was Velvet. She took a step back and avoided eye contact, picking at her nail polish, "Hey, are you coming to breakfast? Or are you skipping?"
Veneer sat up, yawning and stretching his back. He looked over to Velvet's side of the room, noticing her bed was already neatly made. For someone who hated working, she really liked to keep her room super tidy. Her car was a different story though. She kept it filled with rubbish, to the point the pedals were almost inaccessible. It was reason she crashed her car and one of the many reasons why Veneer doesn't let her drive anymore.
He got up from the bed, his legs a bit wobbly from standing up so fast. "Uh, thank you," he flattened put his stripy jumpsuit, "For, um, waking me up. Uh, w-why...?"
She shrugged, still not looking at him, "You've been missing breakfast a lot, you've hardly eaten since you've been here, I just thought it would be polite to wake you."
That's just how their relationship was for a while. Velvet was vaguely friendly, she made as much small talk as she could, which was close to nothing, but whenever Veneer mentioned something a little too personal, she'd change the topic, or flat out ignore him. They sat together for every meal, but they hardly spoke, only yelling out if they needed salt. They shared each other's things, but that was it. At the end of the day, they only had each other, and yet sometimes it was a bit hard to even be in the same room. Velvet had pretended not to miss her brother, and she had been mad at him before.
When they were younger, Velvet could go weeks without speaking to him because he accidentally (on purpose) ate her Halloween candy. But before, when she was little, Velvet had other friends to hang out with. So many friends, she often forgot or confused them with each other. She didn't always need Veneer back then; she could survive just fine with her entourage of girls she hardly knew. But now that she needed him in her life more than ever, she couldn't even look him in the eyes. Ironic, huh, she thought.
Here, everyone hated her, she could just tell. The murmurs as she passed people, the trip to the showers was like the walk of shame. Some of the people here had done unspeakable things, and yet she was the monster apparently. People put up with Veneer when he tried to make conversation, but all she would get were dirty looks. Velvet was a mean girl once, she knew all their tricks, and she knew when they were being used on her. I don't care, she told herself, they have definitely all done worse things, I'm sure. In truth, Velvet wasn't sure if she cared. She didn't feel anything in the moment when a room would be reduced to whispers and glaring when she'd walk in. So why did she cry herself to sleep every night?
Veneer heard her every night. At first it was heartbreaking, now it was just annoying. When Velvet realised Veneer wouldn't say anything, she began to cry louder. Part of Veneer wanted to help her. He wanted to hold her as she sobbed into him, like how she would when they were young, like she had woken from a nightmare, and that that's all it was, just a bad dream. But the other part of him thought differently, because why should he comfort her? I don't have to do everything for her, he thought, I don't want to do anything for her. So he tried his best to ignore her every night, and soon it was just white noise.
God this is what my life is gonna be, Veneer thought.
Velvet, who lied on her side with tears drying on her face, had a similar thought, God, this is what our life is.
They thought everyone hated them, they thought they'd never be happy again. It would this way forever, get used to it, right? Velvet and Veneer: names synonymous with scumbag-ery and failure, destined to never feel the limelight ever again.
Oh, how wrong they were.