Chapter Text
“Holy shit I can’t DO THIS ANYMORE!” He grips the sides of his laptop, slamming his head down on his desk, which is littered with gum wrappers, sticky notes, paper stars and paint. Math homework is shoved off to the side, almost on the floor, and his face is lit up from his screen, which is currently displaying an essay that’s not even a paragraph long. The time is currently 10 P.M. and you best believe he is tired . “I don’t even need to write about why it’s important to find yourself, do I?? I’m not the one who should be making that decision for you, do it yourself!!”
The light reflects off his glasses in a way that feels almost hateful. He’s stumped at this point. 30 math problems, an essay he hasn’t even finished the draft of, 3 art projects, and he has to remember part of a speech from Abe Lincoln to recite to his history teacher. All due by the end of the week. Has he really been this bad with grades?? Well, the best part is that he’s by himself in the house, so he really doesn’t have to do all this right now… But it also means that if anything happens to him, he’ll be without help as he forgot to charge his phone last night and it still hasn’t recovered. He decides, though, to go cook something for himself. He’s not sure exactly what yet, but he might make himself a little bit of that snack sausage he likes. . . if they have any of the sausage, that is.
Making his way to the fridge he discovers that, yes, they do have it! He sets his pan on the stove, letting it heat up while he gets out a cutting board and unwraps the sausage and grabs a knife from the knife rack. As he grabs the knife, though - the only one he likes for this snack - he sees a bit of residue on it. Guess the dishwasher didn’t do too good on this one. He turns to the sink, planning to scrub it off, but steps in an inconveniently placed puddle of water left from the last person to wash their hands, managing to slip face forward. By some bad, horrible miracle, he manages to hold his knife in such a way as he’s falling, that he manages to land right on it. Through the neck. Against his better judgment, and with his mind clouded by panic, he tears it out as soon as he can. Which, if you’ve heard anything about stab wounds or the like, is not the best idea as it causes you to bleed out quicker than you would if the weapon was still lodged in the wound. While he lays there, though, despite sobbing in agony and knowing he’s about to die, he decides that this isn’t so bad. Or at the very least, not as bad as many people make it out to be.
Waking up doesn’t really feel like waking up, but he feels a hand on his shoulder and assumes it’s his dad waking him up because he’ll miss the bus if he sleeps in any later. Opening his eyes reveals otherwise. Well, if he’s gonna be honest, it doesn’t reveal much of anything, actually. He now thinks he knows what it’s like to be completely blind though, so that’s a start! Look, not all starts have to be good ones, ok? Let him have this.
. . . Where the phuck am I?
Why the fuck do you say it like that?
Like what? What’s wrong with how I say phuck?
Nevermind, nevermind.
. . .
. . .
. . . So. What’s up?
What??
Nothing, I just assumed you needed me here for something. I mean, using my context clues, I’m pretty sure I died and you’re some eldritch being my mortal mind ‘can’t comprehend’ or whatever, right?
I mean I guess- I just brought you here because I was gonna give you a second chance at life somewhere else. Since you’re young and all.
Am I REALLY that young if I’m eligible for a drivers permit?
…Yes. You’ve said it yourself you think this is way too young of an age to be forced to get the rest of your life together.
Ok damn-
You weren’t even really eligible, you read one paragraph of the handbook and gave up.
Can you stop calling me out? :(
Yeah, whatever. Anyways, lucky for you, you can choose a gift. And I’ll also be giving you a surprise, but I can’t tell you if you want it to be a surprise. This gift that you’ll be taking into your new world can be anything you want within reason, but it - along with the surprise - can be taken away at my command if you ever start getting boring.
Do I get to know where I’m going?
No, you’ll figure that out by experience.
Oh. . . Well, then I wanna know how to fit in and not get called out too soon, y’know? I also wanna. . . Well, this one is kinda stupid, but I’m too sentimental. Could I have something to remember everything by? I mean, I’ll miss my friends and stuff.
Hmm. . . Yes I think I can arrange that. Though, you won’t have all knowledge, because then there’s a chance you’ll just mold yourself to be a normal member of society.
I guess you’re right. . . So is uh. . . is that all? Can I get going now, or-?
It feels like he’s falling. Which is weird, because he isn’t.
He jolts awake, flinging into a sitting position and gripping his bedsheets so hard his hands hurt, drenched in a cold sweat and jittery from the adrenaline of the encounter. His breaths tear through his throat in an almost panicked manner, as he tries to steady himself. The anxiety is making his eyes water.
That was all a weird fucked up dream, wasn’t it? He took a nap for too long, clearly, since he’s still alive. But it’s weird. He doesn’t look the same, much less feel the same. His hands are clawed and a blank white, along with his arms, and well. . . all of his skin is just pale white, actually. His hair isn’t constantly falling in his face anymore. Reaching up, he can tell that actually, none of his hair has the potential to fall anywhere, since it’s all gone. At least he won’t shed like a dog after every shower anymore now.
Noticing a mirror on the opposite wall, he gets out of bed and goes over to it, closely inspecting his new look. It’s so strange . It’s so clearly him, but at the same time it’s. . . not him? Horns coming out of the back of his skull, curving around the top of his head, and jutting up suddenly, the tips of them a different color than the rest, like paint that’s slowly been chipping off. His claws, in all honesty, are not that sharp, which is pretty disappointing to him, because if he’s gonna have claws he deserves sharp ones. His teeth are strangely sharp now, pointy. Similar to a sharks, just without the many rows of them. His eyes are a wildly different color to his previous brown, now a green and purple instead.
All of these are traits that he knows he would probably choose for himself, but it doesn’t make it any easier to come to terms with the fact that this is what he’s gonna look like forever. He doesn’t want to believe it. He won’t be able to see his parents again, or his cousin, or his girlfriend, his friends, siblings, grandparents, cats. . . All of them, gone. He didn’t even get to say goodbye. Stranger than how he looks, though, is the fact that he doesn’t really feel. . . much of anything at this, actually. He just feels sort of hollow at the thought. Maybe it’ll all catch up to him later, as it usually does. But right now? He’s hungry for some fresh baked goods. And, based on appearance alone, he has a pretty good idea on where he is, and a pretty good idea on where he’s headed. Now to attempt the horrifying ordeal of trying to find your way around somewhere new...
—
Well, it took forever, and a lot of sight-seeing, since he’s never actually played the game, to finally get to his destination: Slingshots Cafe! A small bell jingles above his head as he walks in, which causes a certain someone with a feline-esque appearance to notice him and wave as soon as he dares to step foot into the building.
“Hey, welcome in! Come on up, I’ll be ready for you in just a sec!”
As he makes his way up to the counter and watches as Slingshot with the current task, he’s hit with a very familiar wave of anxiety that he somehow manages to keep forgetting about. All too soon, Slingshot is done and asking what he wants.
“Hey! So, what would you like?”
“Oh, uh. . . Just, a chocolate chip muffin- would be fine. Uh, maybe some uh… sweet tea, as well, if it isn’t too much trouble- Thanks.”
“You got it! We’ll be right with you in a second!”
He walks off to sit at the closest table to the counter he can, to make it easier for… well, he’s not sure. Man, being a customer sucks! Doing that to people feels shitty. Maybe it’s just the fact that he has a vague idea of what customer service is like. Time sure does fly fast, though. He already has his order. When did that happen? Not like he would remember. He decides to make a great escape, which is just paying for his order as quickly as possible and rushing out the door with it all the way back to the shitty apartment he's been assigned to.
Damn, that was a shitty first day. Maybe tomorrow he’ll have better luck.