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Chapter Text

    The doors to the Raven House pushed open, light from the setting sun streaming inside and piercing the eyes of the man on the couch. Paranoid hissed, pulling his hood further over his eyes, as Smitten strolled inside merrily.

    “Gentlemen!” the upperclassman exclaimed. “I come bearing the greatest of news! For my beloved has agreed to accompany me to the cinema for a showing of Kiki’s Delivery Service!”

    Opportunist leaned into the common room from the kitchen, tilting his head. “Oh, that one about the witch? …You’re not going with Witch, are you?”

    “Oh, he’s definitely going with Witch,” Cold chimed from the couch beside Paranoid. “It’s exactly the kind of predictable thing he would do.”

    Opportunist stepped into the room, sucking air past his teeth. “Yeah, mate, I can’t say I suggest that. That woman’ll make you buy her popcorn and a ticket just to lock you in the theater bathroom.”

    “And you know that because that’s what you would do?” Paranoid muttered under his breath, foot tapping rapidly on the hardwood floor as his fingernails picked at the threads of Cold’s knit sweater. Cold didn’t seem to mind.

    Smitten chuckled, shaking his head. “Your jealousy does not deter me, my good fellow. For I have seen the depths of her heart, and I know the maiden’s love for me is as true as mine for her!”

    “Hey, no jealousy here! That ship has sailed,” Opportunist insisted with a light smile, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m just lookin’ out for ya. Maybe I should come along to help wingman and keep an eye on her.”

    “Don’t,” Paranoid said sharply before Smitten could offer anything. “He’s just trying to trick you into paying for a night out for him. You know how he is.”

    Opportunist gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. “Why, I would never! You think so little of me! I just want to help my fellow man get ahead in his love life, that’s all!”

    “You’re a terrible liar,” Cold observed softly.

    “In fact,” Opportunist began, crossing the room to drape his arm around Smitten’s broad shoulders, “why don’t we make it a double date? I haven’t brought the boss out for a nice evening in a while!”

    “What a splendid idea!” Smitten exclaimed, happily wrapping his arm around Opportunist in turn. “The more the merrier, I say! You and your beloved are always welcome with me and mine.”

    “I thought Damsel was your beloved,” Hero called from the kitchen.

    Smitten sighed wistfully. “I have much love in my heart to share. Women are such delicate, beautiful creatures, are they not? Surely you understand, Hero!”

    “I mean…I guess so?” Hero replied. “But…Witch is kind of…isn’t she?”

    “She’s a conniving backstabber,” Opportunist agreed. “Just the other day, she sold Broken a pair of craft scissors that I was just about to sell him. Now how am I supposed to convince the lad that he needs my scissors in his life to impress that lady friend of his?”

    “Oh, scissors like these ones, perchance?” Smitten asked, pulling a pair of garish, bright orange craft scissors from his cardigan pocket. “My beloved offered  me a pair at a steep discount! She even offered to sell me an entire case of them so I could spread their glory to my dear friends! I get to pick it up at our date!”

    Opportunist’s mouth dropped open. He huffed, withdrawing from Smitten to cross his arms petulantly. “Oh, that wretch. How does she keep beating me to it?!”

    “Your inner monologue is becoming outer rambling again,” Cold warned. “But at least your missteps are amusing.”

    “Thank you!” Opportunist said cheerfully. “Would you by chance be interested in a lovely case of craft scissors? Imagine the paper snowflakes you could make, Cold! You’d never be bored again!”

    “Don’t listen to him, it’s a scheme,” Paranoid hissed, looping an arm around Cold’s and leaning into their shoulder. Cold tilted their head curiously, considering.

    “...Well, I suppose it would be something new,” they mused. “But if I really wanted to play with scissors, I could always borrow them from Broken and Smitten. I don’t see why I should have to purchase them to use them.”

    “Well, that’s where you’re wrong, my friend!” Opportunist exclaimed, strutting to the couch and leaning down to rest his elbows across the top. Paranoid hissed at him, scrambling off the couch to hide by Cold’s legs. “For you see, there are thirty different pairs, all with their own unique shapes and lines! If you merely borrowed a pair from Broken or Smitten, how would you ever experience the rush of new shapes? You would get sick of them easily. With a whole case, though--imagine how many varieties of lines you could make! Imagine the possibilities! The excitement, Cold!”

    Cold raised an eyebrow, actually vaguely interested. Opportunist leaned closer to them, eyes gleaming with mischief and anticipation.

    “...I’m not sold,” Cold sighed. “It seems like something that would lose its value rather quickly.”

    “Ah, but consider!” Opportunist cried, straightening up. “... I really need your money!”

    “Oppy, mate, you’ve got to know you’re in a pyramid scheme,” Hero called worriedly, finally leaving the kitchen to mingle with the others. Hunted followed behind him, gripping the back of his shirt in one hand. “This is getting sad.”

    “Aha! But one day, I’ll be the top of the pyramid! And isn’t that worth being a little broke for a bit?” Opportunist insisted.

    “I really don’t think it is,” Hero admitted sadly.

    “Oh, no, Hero, don’t feel bad!” Opportunist urged, smiling nervously. “Really, it’s alright. But say, if you really want to help--”

    “I’m not lending you money,” Hero cut in, exasperated.

    “...I was going to say you could soothe my aching heart by joining me for coffee tomorrow morning and showing me some friendship, but I see how it is,” Opportunist declared. “Fine. Smitten and I will return to planning our wonderful double date! When is this date, by the way?”

    “Friday evening, five o’ clock!” Smitten announced proudly.

    “Oooh…” Opportunist frowned. “Well, that’s a shame. Wraith is busy this Friday at five o’ clock. But! Don’t you worry, because your old pal Oppy is free as a bird and happy to wingman!”

    “Don’t,” Hero warned, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

    “He’s doing it again,” Paranoid added.

    “Wingman, you say?” Smitten considered this, lightly rubbing his chin. “And would this improve my chances at scoring a second date with my beloved?”

    “Of course it would!” Opportunist insisted, sliding back to Smitten’s side and emphatically patting his chest. “Being a good wingman is all about smooth talking. And who’s smoother at talking than me?”

    Smitten nodded agreeably. “Yes, you are rather good at talking…”

    “No he isn’t!” Paranoid cried, throwing up his hands in annoyance.

    “Right! See?” Opportunist urged. “And hey, since I’m helping you with such a great service, entirely for free, I might add…”

    “Here it comes,” Hero sighed.

    “He never learns, does he…?” Cold murmured, more curious than judgmental.

    “...And since you happen to have tremendous wealth--I mean, really, what are you going to spend all that money on if not your dear friends?” Opportunist continued, completely ignoring the others. “You should pay for my ticket! What else are friends for, right, chum?”

    “Smitten, don’t,” Hero said, in a tone one might use to reprimand a puppy who should know better.

    Smitten nodded, entirely sold. “You make an excellent point, my good fellow. I would be happy to use my vast funds in service of impressing my beloved on our first of many dates! You have a deal!”

    “He did it again…” Paranoid whispered. “Why does he keep doing it? He knows he’s being scammed, doesn’t he?”

    “He’s a forgiving sort. May as well let him live his fantasies,” Cold said.

    Opportunist beamed, offering Smitten a hearty handshake. “Wonderful! Pleasure doing business with--friendship! Doing friendship with you! Yes!”

    “Is it just me, or has he gotten worse at hiding it since we met?” Hero asked.

    “He has gotten worse. He’s gotten sloppy,” Hunted agreed. “It’s because Smitten keeps falling for his tricks. It makes him think he doesn’t have to be so careful. But you always have to be careful.”

    As if to validate her ideology, a sudden knock at the door made Paranoid jump, Hunted’s head whipping towards the door at lightning speed. Smitten looked back over his shoulder, worriedly fussing his hair back into a manageable shape.

    “How do I look?” he blurted. “What if it’s her? Am I still dashingly handsome?”

    “Stunning, mate,” Opportunist assured cheerfully.

    Soothed, Smitten grinned, strolling across the floor to answer the knock. He swung the doors open. “Why, hello, my dear--oh? There’s no one here.”

    “No one here?” Paranoid blurted, worriedly scooting against the far wall. “N-no no, no, there has to be someone there. They just knocked. Check again!”

    “Easy, boy,” Hero soothed. “Smitten, are you sure there’s no one around? Did they at least drop off a package or something?”

    “Hm…” Smitten checked either side of the door, stepped outside to search the stoop, then returned inside with a small shrug. “Nothing. How peculiar…”

    “It’s her…!” Paranoid hissed, gripping his arms with trembling fingers. “I know it is…! She’s doing this to torment me…! Sh-she knows it’ll get under my skin if she just--just disappears like that--”

    A feminine shape slammed into the nearby window. Paranoid shrieked, jumping into the air like a startled cat before bolting over to hide behind Hero. Hunted, startled by the sudden appearance of a new face, fled to tuck herself underneath the kitchen table, peeking out between chair legs to see what was happening. Hero instinctively grabbed for the nearest object--a flyswatter hanging on the side of the refrigerator--and held it like a sword, threateningly pointing it at the doll-like face in the window. Somehow, Cold hadn’t even flinched.

    The newcomer giggled, holding a hand to her mouth. “Oh, my! It looks like I got you pretty good, didn’t I?” she cooed, her voice muffled by the glass. “It’s just that you’re so cute when you startle! I can’t help it!”

    Paranoid hissed at her. “I told you! I told you this was exactly the kind of thing she would do!”

    “She’s called you ‘cute.’ That must feel nice,” Cold said.

   “It does not feel nice! It feels awful! She’s awful!” Paranoid complained.

    “Settle, now, it’s alright,” Hero assured gently.

    “Hello, Nightmare!” Smitten called, bowing to the woman at the window. “How kind of you to stop by! Would you like to come inside?”

    “Don’t just invite her in!” Paranoid complained, flabbergasted. “She’s like a vampire! Once you invite her inside, it’s all over!”

    “Yeah, uh, maybe we don’t want the worst bully on campus in our house?” Hero agreed.

    Nightmare giggled, pressing her hands together. “How sweet! Hear that, boys? At least one of you knows how to be a gentleman to a beautiful lady!”

    “It’s alright, Para!” Opportunist insisted. “If we’re nice to her off the bat, she won’t hate us enough to suck our blood!”

    “You think she wants to suck our blood…?!” Paranoid gasped, shrinking behind Hero as if the shorter man could hide his lanky frame.

    “No, I just--you called her a vampire!” Opportunist said quickly. “It was just a joke! Just a joke.”

    “Your jokes aren’t very funny!” Paranoid snapped.

    “She’s coming,” Hunted murmured from her table fortress. “I hear her footsteps.”

    Sure enough, Nightmare’s face had disappeared from the window, and soon she and her partners-in-crime Beast and Den had arrived at the house’s front door. Nightmare strode inside without a second thought, beelining for where Paranoid still hid desperately behind Hero. Realizing he was already spotted, Paranoid abandoned his friend to squeeze with Hunted under the table instead; she allowed it, trying to make room for Paranoid’s long limbs without putting herself in danger.

    “Don’t be so dramatic,” Nightmare chastised, the thin smile never leaving her face even though her wide eyes were swimming with rage. “I’m not going to hurt you, silly! How would I ever entertain myself if you died?”

    Hero valiantly swatted at her with his “weapon” as she approached. Behind her, Beast sniffed the air once, narrowing her eyes at the entrance to the kitchen. It was clear to the boys she was searching for Hunted, her favorite target.

    “What do you want from us?” Hero asked. “We’re really not in the mood to deal with you today.”

    “Or any day, really,” Cold said, the picture of calm.

    Nightmare tilted her head to the side, a bit too far to seem merely curious. She chuckled, folding her hands behind her back, and Hero ineffectively whacked her shoulder with the flyswatter. Opportunist hurried over beside him, lightly patting Hero’s shoulder.

    “Please, forgive his rudeness,” he said. “Ladies! Welcome to our home! Can I get you anything to drink? Anything to eat?”

    “I can think of something I’d like to eat,” Beast murmured in a slight growl, smirking into the kitchen. Hunted shuddered, pressing into Paranoid. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in closer.

    Opportunist laughed nervously, clapping his hands together. “...Sure! Of course! I’ll get you a slice of coconut cake!”

    “...That was my coconut cake,” Cold muttered under their breath.

    “What a gentleman,” Nightmare said wistfully. “But no, we don’t need anything to eat! We just got so bored and decided, what could be more fun than visiting our favorite campus house with our favorite friends?”

    “We aren’t friends,” Cold said bluntly. “I have no feelings towards you at all.”

    “We’re aware, you little freak,” Beast spat. “You’ve never felt anything. Where’s the little fledgling?”

    Hunted held her breath, sliding entirely underneath Paranoid. Paranoid lay over her protectively, pulling chairs closer to them to try and hide them among the legs.

    Hero swatted at Beast as she prowled closer. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

    “Of course she would!” Nightmare exclaimed cheerily. “Or else, why would she ask? Besides, I already know where my favorite toy is. Hello, dolly!”

    Hero stepped between her and his two hiding housemates, frowning. “Alright, I know Smitten invited you inside already, but you girls need to leave now, please. Don’t make me call Stubborn downstairs.”

    Nightmare tilted her head the other way. “You’re funny! It’s so adorable how you think any of you can scare me.”

    Opportunist slid between Hero and Nightmare as Beast stepped forwards, sneering at them.

    “Ladies, ladies! Let’s not fight,” Opportunist said nervously. “You’re looking for something to do, yes? What a coincidence! So am I! How’s about the four of us go look for some other easy marks--I mean, new friends!”

    Nightmare met his eyes, visibly searching for something in his awkward smile. Unblinking, she leaned in close to Opportunist’s face, relishing in the tiniest flinch she caused.

    “...Okay,” she relented at last, lightly twirling a lock of Opportunist’s hair in her fingers. “You’re a funny one! Let’s go see if we can mess with someone more fun!”

    Den had lingered near the front door the whole time, silently glaring at everyone around her. When she heard her friends say they were leaving, she perked up, quickly leaving the Raven House. Cold watched her with the slightest rise of their eyebrows.

    Sighing in relief, Opportunist flashed Hero a confident smile and patted his shoulder, happily linking arms with Nightmare as they headed for the door to spread chaos. Beast stayed behind, peering past Hero to where Hunted was huddled beneath the table and Paranoid’s body. She grinned.

    “See you around, fledgling,” she purred, waving tauntingly at Hunted as she followed the others out. Hunted shuddered, shimmying further under Paranoid. Paranoid hugged her as much for her as for himself.

    It wasn’t until the group left the Raven House that Hero finally relaxed, his shoulders untensing. Smiling sadly, he glanced over his shoulder at the table. “All good. You can come out now.”

    Paranoid remained stiff, scowling at the doorway into the kitchen. “Never let them in here again. Y-you’re all crazy.”

    “It’s alright, friends,” Smitten soothed. “They’re just a few bored girls, not monsters! You are in no danger.”

    “You don’t know what she’s capable of,” Paranoid insisted, as Hunted futilely tried to wriggle out from his grasp. “She may as well be a monster for all her cruelty. Promise me you will never let her in here again.”

    “Please,” Hero added, earnestly. “Let the boys rest.”

    Smitten hesitated, then nodded, smiling warmly. “Of course. I allowed my passions to impact my dear friends, and I sorely apologize. Next time, I shall simply leave the house myself to join the lovely ladies who grace our yard, I promise!”

    “Sure, Smitten,” Hero sighed, though he smiled genuinely as he went to gently coax Paranoid out from under the table. “C’mon, buddy. You’re crushing Hunted.”

    Hunted squeaked in affirmation. Jumping, Paranoid finally released her and she squirmed out from under the table, checking all the windows to ensure Beast had truly left. Satisfied, she trudged over to the couch and collapsed next to Cold.

    “You’ll make sure she doesn’t get in here while I rest for just a moment, won’t you…?” she mumbled.

    Cold shrugged. “Sure. I have nothing else to do.”

    With Hunted safely in the open, Paranoid hesitantly slunk out of the kitchen and returned to Cold’s other side, settling onto the soft sofa. He sighed shakily, returning to lightly picking at the threads of Cold’s sweater.

    Hero stopped to lock the front door before walking over to the couch, standing behind the trio. He chuckled, observing how the two most anxious housemates were happily curled around their least emotive friend. Cold showed no reaction, as was their usual.

    “You two want to give Cold a break?” he asked.

    “I don’t think she minds,” Hunted murmured. Paranoid nodded.

    “I’m rather used to it,” Cold agreed.       

    They cared, in their own strange way, Hero decided. “Well, alright. Smitten, would you like to make dinner tonight?”

    “I would be delighted,” Smitten replied.

    With their most contentious housemate out of the home, the afternoon felt quiet. Hero didn’t mind after their sudden wild encounter with Nightmare and her crew and Opportunist’s antics.

    There was never a dull moment at Corvid University, at least.

Chapter Text

    The blackboard was scrawled many times over with notes in poor handwriting. Several “words of the day” made an appearance: “nihilism,” “the human condition,” “hedonism,” and “existentialism.”

    Professor Narrator finished writing the final word as he turned back towards his class. “Now, as we read further into the main character’s life, we can see his existential dread building as he continues to spiral further from…yes, Contrarian?”

    Oh, wonderful. Another absolutely inane question from a student Narrator was convinced only joined this class to torment him. How was he supposed to walk the class through an in-depth analysis of Dostoevsky’s Notes from the Underground if he kept getting interrupted by useless chatter?

    If only he were tenured. He just needed a couple more years before he could start wantonly kicking students out of class for reasons such as “I don’t like his stupid jacket with eighteen zippers that all lead nowhere and serve no purpose.”

    The joyous smile on Contrarian’s face as his hand lowered said he was about to say something more idiotic than usual. Narrator braced himself.

    “Yeah, so, if the guy is underground and it makes him so unhappy, why doesn’t he just dig his way out?” Contrarian asked innocently.

    Narrator sighed frustratedly, pushing up his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. “He is not literally underground. It’s only a metaphor for his feelings of isolation from society.”

    “Ohhh…” Contrarian nodded. “I get it. So the dirt is like a metaphor for symbolism.”

    “What?” Skeptic piped up, turning over his shoulder to see Contrarian more clearly. At least Narrator could trust he understood the material. “No, something can’t be a metaphor for symbolism. A metaphor is, itself, a form of symbolism.”

    “Yes, thank you, Skeptic,” Narrator said. “Now--”

    “It’s a metaphor for the false information constantly shoveled over us by the upper echelons in an attempt to make us content with mediocrity,” Skeptic declared confidently, facing Narrator again with a squint. “...Sort of like he’s doing.”

    “I don’t think that’s true,” Prisoner muttered from her seat in the back right corner.

    Narrator rolled his eyes. Why did he even bother with this class? At least his other class times had students that tried. Did all of the worst learners have to cram themselves into the one-thirty class just to torture him for this hour and fifteen minutes of agonizingly monologuing to a brick wall?

    “No, that is not what the story is about,” he insisted. “The man isn’t discontent with mediocrity, he is self-isolating due to his own lack of self-worth. If his problem was merely that he kept being fed false promises, he would not be so trapped in his own head.”

    “Now wait just a minute,” Cheated chimed. “You’re just telling us what the point of the book is now! I thought the point of this class was for us to come to our own conclusions or some shit!”

    “We should be allowed to think for ourselves, but to believe we actually can is foolish,” Cage added from beside him. “And maybe that is the real point of the story.”

    “Hey, she’s right!” Cheated agreed. “What I see is a man locked in an unfair life being forced to perform exactly as everyone else just so he can be accepted. It’s a load of bullshit if you ask me.”

    “Hm…” Skeptic considered this for a moment, stroking the stubble on his chin. “...But how do we know society was being unfair?”

    “Well, he’s fuckin’ depressed, innit?” Cheated asked pointedly. “Who gets that depressed if their life ain’t straight bollocks?”

    “Broken is that depressed. His life is fine,” Skeptic pointed out, gesturing to their friend against the window.

    Broken groaned feebly, sinking further into his chair and pulling his security blanket around himself. “Life does not always have to be outwardly horrible to be unfair.”

    “Sit up straight,” Tower ordered, reaching over to tug on the back of Broken’s shirt. He obligingly sat up again, smiling faintly to himself at her touch.

    Contrarian snapped triumphantly. “Oh! I got it! The story is about a young woman in Victorian England who is born to a poor family, and must marry a haughty and aloof businessman to secure her future even though she finds him abhorrent, but over time their witty banter gives way to genuine affection as they slowly fall in love!”

    “What?” Narrator blurted, genuinely caught off-guard. “...No. That--you’ve just described Pride and Prejudice. That isn’t even the same novel.”

    “It isn’t?” Contrarian cocked his head curiously. “...Ah! Then this one must be the story about an adopted child who grows up in an abusive household where he falls in love with the wealthy heiress who shows him affection, but neither of them communicate their feelings properly so they grow apart as they grow older, and eventually the heiress is forced to marry another wealthy man--”

    “That is Wuthering Heights,” Narrator interrupted. “Why do you keep bringing up British novels? Dostoevsky is Russian. At least keep to the same country if you are going to be so blatantly wrong.”

    “Right, right. War and Peace,” Contrarian confirmed.

    “Well, yes, that is Russian, but…” Narrator trailed off, waving a hand in the air dismissively. “No, wait, how did we get on this topic? We are talking about Notes from the Underground.”

    “If he’s underground, how is he writing notes?” Contrarian asked innocently. “Seems to me like it would be hard to write under mounds of dirt.”

    “We’ve been over this. The dirt is a metaphor. It isn’t real,” Narrator insisted.

    “A metaphor for the cold constraints of societal norms,” Cage added.

    “Well…yes, actually,” Narrator agreed. “I suppose it is something like that.”

    “That’s what I said,” Skeptic pointed out. “I said that and you said I was wrong. What are you hiding, Professor?”

    “I’m not hiding anything. What you said was more about the world lying to him about how things work. That isn’t the problem,” Narrator pointed out, earnestly. 

    Skeptic leaned over his desk, scrutinizing Narrator’s expression. “...I don’t believe you,” he said evenly.

    Narrator repressed the urge to cancel class early. “Why are you even taking this class? This is Psychology of Literature.”

    “I’m a psychology major, aren’t I?” Skeptic countered.

    “Forensic psychology,” Narrator corrected. “This has nothing to do with that.”

    “I needed an elective, and I don’t trust you,” Skeptic declared.

    “Why?” Narrator asked genuinely. “What have I done that has given you reason to distrust me? I have only done my due diligence to teach you what I know.”

    “Last time we let you talk to Paranoid for ten minutes, he came home ramblin’ on about how birds aren’t real,” Cheated pointed out.

    “I don’t think you like me very much,” Broken admitted. “Not that I can blame you…”

    “It’s not that I don’t like you,” Narrator assured. “It’s that I worry about you. All of you, even if you don’t believe that. I want you to take this seriously so you can succeed. Contrarian has failed this class five times!”

    “I’m aiming for six!” Contrarian exclaimed.

    “And I don’t know where on earth Paranoid got the idea that birds aren’t real,” Narrator tutted, folding his arms. “Of course birds are real. It’s only some of them that are government drones meant to spy on us to see what joys of life they may rob from us next.”

    “Well, the ‘some’ got lost in translation. Poor lad hasn’t looked at a bird in a year,” Cheated sighed. “...Also, I’m sorry, did you say some birds are government drones?”

    “They’re so loud…” Broken mumbled. “I’m sorry, my goddess…they must be interrupting your nap.”

    Tower chuckled. “Do not apologize, little bird. Their squabbling amuses me. Watching the petty arguments of common folk helps me realize just how much better than them I am.”

    “Well, how else would you explain the intelligence of crows and ravens?” Narrator pressed. “An animal with a brain that small could never truly reason out the things they do.”

    “Good work, we got him on a conspiracy rant,” Contrarian whispered to Skeptic. “Keep it going and we don’t have to learn any more today!”

    “I want to learn today,” Skeptic pointed out. “Professor, what about the book?”

    “The…oh!” Narrator bumped the heel of his hand against his forehead, admittedly frustrated he had allowed himself to get distracted. “Right. Of course. Thank you, Skeptic. Back to the story…what was I talking about again?”

    “You were saying we’re all going to get A’s for participating in class so diligently,” Contrarian announced.

    Narrator shot him a glare. Muttering to himself, he checked his blackboard for a hint at what he had been talking about, only to realize his notes were so scattered he couldn’t decipher what he had been talking about before the class got him on a tangent.

    He checked the clock. There were twenty-five minutes left of class; if his students weren’t going to appreciate the effort he put in to teaching anyway, did it really matter if he spent the rest of his time just going over their next assignment? It would give the students that actually cared (like Prisoner and Cage) a chance to ask questions, at least.

    “Well, never mind that. Let’s discuss your next essay. I would like you to choose a character from one of the works we have discussed in this unit and write a new portion of their story from their perspective.”

    “So the underground man, but he’s digging his way out,” Contrarian mused.

    “...Sure,” Narrator sighed, frankly too tired to argue. “You could also pull from Hedda Gabler, or The Stranger, or The Portrait of Dorian Gray. Anything we’ve reviewed over the past month.”

    “Hedda Gabler reminded me of Cold,” Broken mused quietly. “I think I could write about her. I know Cold very well, after all.”

    “I don’t like him,” Tower declared, absently filing at her nails. “He’s strange. He’s a bad influence on you.”

    “O-oh, I don’t like them either,” Broken assured her, shuddering. “I don’t know how anyone could possibly feel nothing…”

    “Sometimes turning off the part of you that feels is the only way you can cope with feeling so much,” Cage admitted quietly. “...I think I’ll write about Hedda too. To be clear, you want us to write an original scene of the story from the main character’s perspective?”

    “Or any character, really,” Narrator replied. “We’ve read a lot of literature together. I trust you to come up with something interesting. Show me you understand the themes we have discussed and how they impact the characters we’ve read about.”

    Skeptic nodded slowly, considering this. “...Can I write about Sherlock?”

    “Sherlock? We haven’t read a single Sherlock novel in this class,” Narrator said.

    Skeptic nodded gravely. “But I understand him.”

    “Ooh! Can I write about The Joker?” Contrarian asked.

   “No, you cannot write about something we haven’t even read,” Narrator sighed. “That wouldn’t be fair to the other students.”

    Skeptic scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve read Sherlock.”

    Prisoner raised her hand. “I’ve also read Sherlock.”

    “I watched the show, that’s the same thing,” Tower said. “Little bird, will you read Sherlock and tell me all about it?”

    “Of course,” Broken said quickly, tone wistful.

    “I…” Incredulous, Narrator looked out at all his students. “Do you all really want to write about Sherlock instead of any of the other wonderful stories we’ve read?”

    “Do you not like Sherlock?” Skeptic asked. “That sounds…suspicious.”

    “Suspicious how? The series just doesn’t match the theme of this unit,” Narrator insisted. “We’re supposed to be discussing themes of existentialism and hedonism and ennui. Sherlock is--is about mystery.”

    “And a damn good mystery at that,” Skeptic said gruffly.

    “Wait, no, I don’t want to have to write about Sherlock!” Cheated protested. “I spent all this bloody time reading the pretentious bullshit assigned to us by that guy, and now you want to tell me I have to read more just for this one assignment? Professor’s right, that’s not fair!”

    “For once, I agree with you,” Narrator said. “Please, just…pick anything else.”

    “Diary of a Wimpy Kid!” Contrarian blurted.

    “Anything else we have read in class,” Narrator corrected, exasperated. “I will put a document with all the details on Blackboard. Email me if you have any questions.”

    Prisoner raised her hand.

    “Yes, Prisoner?”

    “If I extrapolate some sort of existential theme from Sherlock, can I write about him?” Prisoner asked.

    Narrator stared at her. Was this entire class going to collapse into anarchy despite his best efforts?

    “No, you cannot--”

    “But what if we do it anyway?” Contrarian interrupted. “If we all do it, you can’t fail the whole class. Then President Apotheosis will know you’re a bad teacher.”

    “I--I am not a bad teacher,” Narrator insisted. “I am a very good teacher, mind you. You all are just poor students.”

    “I’m going to tell everyone you said that when I rate my professor,” Skeptic declared.

    “Oh, for the love of…” At this rate, Narrator wasn’t even to going to remain employed long enough to achieve tenure. He weighed his options for a moment, trying to decide what would look worse on his record: allowing his class to control his assignments, or getting bombed with negative criticism from every student once the semester ended.

    In the end, he gave in with a resigned groan. “...Fine. If you absolutely insist, you may write about Sherlock. But I will be giving extra credit to those who write about a character we have actually studied.”

    Skeptic seemed satisfied. “And that’s how it’s done. Thanks for the help, princess.”

    Prisoner didn’t respond, though the tiniest, satisfied smile flickered onto her face for a moment.

    Narrator glanced at the clock. It was still early, but could he stand fifteen more minutes of this?

    “...Class dismissed,” he decided. It wasn’t worth adding any more streaks of grey to his hair. “Please, just…leave me to ponder over my employment in peace.”

    “You got it, boss,” Contrarian said lightly. “Who wants to get lunch? I’ll buy if we go out for subs!”

    “Free meal? Count me in!” Cheated said gleefully, scrambling out of his seat. Skeptic waited by the door for Prisoner, and the two walked off together as Cage slowly followed. Tower led the way for Broken, who obediently toddled behind her like a duckling.

    As the classroom cleared out, Narrator collapsed into his desk chair and fished a flask of white wine out of his top drawer. He downed a swig, slumping back in his seat.

    “...I deserve tenure just for this class…”

Chapter Text

    The door to Regal House kicked open and Witch scurried inside, snickering to herself. She immediately ducked into the kitchen, grabbing three bags of sour cream and onion chips. Wild looked up as she entered, munching on a celery stick.

    “What happened?” she asked, in a tone that implied she already knew.

    “Nooothing!” Witch sang. “Just totally pulled one over on that lovesick fool in Raven House! Dinner’s on me tonight, girls!”

    Damsel gasped, gathering her skirt and hurrying to the door of the kitchen to catch Witch. “You mean Smitten? But he’s so sweet! You haven’t done anything rude, have you?”

    “Rude? Me? Never!” Witch insisted, brushing past Damsel. “It’s his fault for being so easy to con. And besides, now he gets to go on a date with a pretty girl! It’s a win-win!”

    Damsel frowned worriedly, clutching her hands to her chest. “Well…if you say so, I trust you!”

    “You shouldn’t do that.” A soft voice came from Damsel’s left, as Spectre’s cold hand rested on her shoulder. Damsel jumped, always surprised by how silent Spectre could be. “She likes to lie. It’s how she has her fun. Right, Witch?”

    “Oh, don’t lecture me,” Witch huffed, climbing over the back of the couch and tumbling onto the cushions beside Fury. Fury glared at her, scooting a good foot away from Witch’s tangled hair. “Your idea of fun is making thinly veiled threats you never follow through on. You’re just as wretched as me.”

    “But I don’t follow through on them,” Spectre said innocently, tapping a finger to her chin. “You do. Does that not give me a pass?”

    Witch stuck a hand up to flip Spectre off before tearing open her first bag of chips. She shoveled them into her mouth, eyes drifting to Fury. “Whatcha watching?”

    Fury tilted her head at Witch, watching her with a faint curiosity as Witch gobbled down chips. “...Equestrian shows. I like watching the horses jump.”

    “Booooring,” Witch complained, her hand darting for the remote. “Let’s put on a game show. I’ve been keeping up with Survivor. I gotta know who’s going home this week!”

    Damsel smiled airily, walking to the couch to sit beside Fury. “Oh, I love when people survive! It’s such a happy ending. And they even get to go home? How wonderful!”

    Fury scowled as Witch began flicking through channels. “...I was watching that.”

    Wild rolled her wheelchair out of the kitchen, pausing by the door. Sensing the pain in her brittle arms was acting up again, Spectre took the wheelchair, fondly rolling Wild to the couch.

    “I’ve never liked that show,” Wild admitted quietly. “Survivor. It’s so full of betrayal and backstabbing.”

    “I know! Isn’t it great?!” Witch squealed.

    “I wouldn’t think you would like things like that after…” Spectre trailed off, humming to herself. “Well. No need to bring up the past.”

    Witch’s eye twitched. She sneered, angrily shoving a fistful of chips in her mouth as she finally located the right channel. “Yes, no need for that. I’ll ruin that nasty birdbrain’s life if it’s the last thing I do. That reminds me! I should slash all his tires! Or replace the oil in his car with lemonade! Or drop rat poison in his water bottle!”

    “Didn’t you just clean up the mess from that fire he started in your room? Are you sure you want to start the war up again?” Wild asked, genuinely concerned.

    “It’s fine, they’re just pranks,” Witch insisted casually.

    “You snuck a gun in his backpack and got him arrested and then he set your curtains on fire,” Spectre pointed out.

    “And it was hilarious! You should have seen the look on his stupid face when the cops showed up!” Witch exclaimed gleefully.

    Footsteps down the stairs heralded Wraith’s arrival. She wandered over to stand behind the couch, resting one ankle behind the other. “What is everyone yelling about? I’ve been working.”

    “Survivor’s on!” Witch exclaimed. “And I’m plotting my next super funny prank on your stupid boyfriend!”

    Wraith smiled to herself, thinking. “...Replace one of his boxes of scissors with a box of sticks.”

    Witch gasped delightedly. “Yes! You’re a genius! He’ll be so mad!”

    “Why are you helping her?” Wild asked. “Don’t you love him?”

    “I do,” Wraith admitted. “But I love messing with him even more. It’s funny when he squirms.”

    “...You’re a bad partner,” Wild said simply. Wraith shrugged.

    “Speaking of,” Damsel spoke up suddenly. “Since you and Smitten are going on a date, does that mean you finally have a boyfriend? Congratulations!”

    Wraith raised an eyebrow, amused. “You and Smitten?”

    Witch curled her lips back in a snarl, shaking her head. “Blegh. No. Ew. I just agreed to go to a movie with him so he can buy me free snacks. And also I sold him a case of scissors. Because he’s stupid.”

    “Do you like any of the Ravens?” Spectre asked curiously.

    Witch considered this, finishing off the last of her first bag of chips. “...I guess Hero is fine. And Stubborn’s usually wrapped up with Advy, so he’s not too annoying. The others are just funny to mess with.”

    “On the topic of Stubborn and Advy, where are they?” Wraith asked. “When first I went upstairs they were here. But now it’s quiet.”

    “Oh! They went out on a date,” Damsel said. “Isn’t it so sweet how much they love each other?”

    “And when she says ‘date,’ she means they went to the gym to practice suplexing each other before the match tomorrow,” Spectre added. “I think Needle is with them. To supervise.”

    “Supervise, or tag team on Stubborn?” Witch asked cheekily.

    Spectre shrugged innocently. “Are they not the same thing with those three?”

    “At least they’re happy,” Wild sighed. “...Who are you rooting for, Witch?”

    “Huh?” Witch sat up at last, opening her second bag of chips. “Oh, on the show? I like Allan. He’s clever. Keeps the others on their toes!”

    “That sounds like you,” Wraith said.

    Witch giggled impishly. “Thank you! I pride myself on my ability to keep you guessing. You never know when I’ll decide to turn on you!”

    “You wouldn’t turn on us,” Damsel said sweetly. “I think! I trust you!”

    “You shouldn’t!” Witch exclaimed.

    Wraith chuckled, stepping back. “I’m going to make a grocery run. If anyone wants something specific, come along. I’m not catering to you.”

    “I’ll come!” Damsel exclaimed, hopping up from the couch. “I want to get ingredients to bake another coconut cake! I was told the Ravens loved it, so I want to make them more!”

    “Where’s Heather? Does she need anything for dinner tonight?” Wraith asked.

    “In her room,” Wild said. “Witch said she’s covering dinner tonight.”

    “I’m gonna order pizza with the money I got for selling Smitten a case of scissors,” Witch trilled.

    Wraith smiled, quietly offering Witch a high five. Witch obliged, snickering.

    “See you girls later,” Wraith said, heading out to her car. Damsel followed behind her dutifully.

    “Bye!” Witch called, dumping more chips into her mouth. Fury grabbed the remote while she wasn’t looking, swiftly switching the channel back to her equestrian competition.

    She smiled faintly to herself, content. Witch tilted her head back down at the sounds of hoofbeats, gasping.

    “Sneaky!” she hissed.

    “I learned from the best,” Fury said smoothly.

    “And I learned from the worst!” Witch declared, presently tackling Fury for control of the remote. They wrestled for a bit, Witch’s scrappiness making up for her distinct size disadvantage.

    Wild sighed heavily. “Why can’t we all just get along…?”

    “It would be boring if we did,” Spectre said smoothly. “They’re lively. I like lively.”

    In the end, Fury emerged victorious in the scrap, straddling Witch to keep her arms pinned to her sides. Witch bit at her legs, wriggling.

    Spectre sighed wistfully. “So lively.”

Chapter Text

    Smitten rocked eagerly heel to toe, waiting outside of Regal House for Witch to come out. Opportunist sat in the back seat of Smitten’s incredibly expensive luxury car, mentally calculating how many cases of scissors he would have to sell before he could afford one of his own.

    “Opportunist,” Smitten said suddenly, a tinge of worry in his voice, “how do I look? Is my hair too frizzy? Am I dressed well? Am I handsome?”

    “You look like a million bucks, Smitty!” Opportunist assured. “She’s gonna love you.”

    Smitten sighed in relief, adjusting the way his cardigan sat on his shoulders. When the door to Regal House opened, he jumped, hurriedly running his hands through his hair as Witch skipped outside.

    “Hello, mark--I mean, date!” Witch exclaimed. “I can’t wait to sc--you?!”

    Opportunist jumped, looking over from the back seat. He waved, his motions confident but expression nervous. “Ah! Me! Hello again! I haven’t seen you since I set your curtains on fire!”

    Witch hissed at him. “Why is that one here?!”

    “I am here to help wingman for my lovely friend Smitten,” Opportunist declared. “He’s a great guy, and you should definitely not scam him. Look how sweet and earnest he is! Don’t you want someone earnest in your life?”

    “Unlike someone I know,” Witch snarled, stuffing her hands under her arms.

    “He was going to join us for a double date, but his lovely lady wasn’t available,” Smitten sighed. “But out of the goodness of my heart, I have offered to let him come along anyway! The more the merrier, so long as he does not interrupt our date.”

    Witch’s eyes gleamed. Opportunist’s false smile dropped.

    “Oh, is that so?” Witch purred. “You know what? I think Wraith’s schedule may have just opened up. Lucky you!”

    Opportunist revived a faulty smile. “Oh…! Yes! How wonderful for me! Can’t wait to…spend money today!”

    “Isn’t that perfect? Let me go get her!” Witch exclaimed, jogging back towards Regal House.

    Smitten clapped delightedly. “How splendid! You get to have a beautiful night with your woman after all! Aren’t you thrilled?”

    Opportunist tried not to let Smitten see his internal screaming. He knew full well he did not have the money to afford a date.

    Perhaps Wraith would pity him if he begged.

    “So excited!” he replied, half through his teeth. “I haven’t spent time with her since two days ago when we went for a pleasant walk in the park together and fed ducks at the pond! Say, come to think of it, doesn’t that sound like a much more intimate date idea for the four of us? What say we try that instead of a movie?”

    “I agree that is a lovely idea, my good fellow, but I’m afraid I promised Witch a movie,” Smitten said sadly. “I would hate to disappoint her. Perhaps we can visit the park for our second date!”

    The internal screaming had progressed into internal flipping tables and sobbing.

    “Sounds perfect!” Opportunist exclaimed. “I am not remotely distressed by this turn of events…! Nope! Not even a little! I have money!”

    Witch came trotting back outside with her hand grasping Wraith’s. Wraith grinned at the two boys, her piercing eyes landing on Opportunist in the car. He shrunk back, acutely aware that she could see right through him.

    “Hello, idiot,” Wraith greeted affectionately. “And other idiot.”

    Smitten smiled airily, bowing to her. “Hello, madam! So pleased you could accompany us today! Oppy, get out of the car and open the door for your lady like a gentleman!”

    “Right! Of course!” Opportunist tumbled out of the car, clearing his throat as he opened the car door for Wraith. “Milady. After you!”

    Wraith’s grin grew more teasing. She separated from Witch to squeeze into the car, tousling Opportunist’s hair on her way in. “You’re learning. Keep it up.”

    Opportunist wilted, sighing heavily as he trudged to the other side of the car.  “Yes ma’am. Whatever you say, boss!”

    Smitten seemed pleased. He offered his arm to Witch, who regarded it warily before finally taking it.

    The quartet loaded into the car, Smitten turning on the radio for classical music as he pulled onto the street. Witch stared at the radio, frowning, but her tapping foot indicated she was enjoying the music choice.

    Any silence on the drive was filled by Smitten eagerly recounting his excitement for the evening’s festivities or asking Witch questions about herself. Occasionally, she even answered him. Some of those answers were even true.

    As they pulled into the theater parking lot, Smitten happily hopped out of the car and raced to open the door for Witch, offering his hand. “We’ve arrived, my love! To the cinema!”

    Witch stared at his hand for a moment, a calculating look in her eyes. Hesitantly, she took it as she stepped out of the car, smirking. “Yes, we’ve made it! How lovely. But oh no, it looks like I forgot your case of scissors! Lucky for you, I have one at home with some larger deluxe pairs that you can have all for yourself for only twenty-five additional dollars! Also I forgot my wallet!”

    Opportunist, just coming out of the car himself, gaped at Witch. “...You little weasel!”

    “Takes one to know one, snake!” Witch snapped.

    “She’s tricking you!” Opportunist insisted. “There are no deluxe pairs! She just wants more money from you! And as your best friend, it is my duty to protect you from her schemes!”

    Smitten cocked his head innocently. “But my friend, you are always in need of money too! Why should I not help my beloved get ahead, even if she is tricking me?”

    Witch blinked at him. “Are you telling me you would just give me money if I asked?”

    Smitten shrugged. “Of course!”

    “Gimme two-hundred dollars!” Witch blurted.

    Opportunist spluttered. “Wait, no! …Give me two-hundred dollars!”

    Smitten hummed, fishing his wallet out of his purse. He opened it, checking the inside. “Oh dear. I’m afraid I only have three hundred-dollar-bills at the moment. Friend Oppy, could I perchance give you the rest of your money later?”

    Witch’s eyes sparkled. As Smitten pulled the bills from his wallet, she snatched all three out of his hand, hurriedly stuffing them in her bra before anyone could protest. “I changed my mind! I want three-hundred dollars, actually!”

    Smitten blinked, smiling happily. “Anything for you, my love! Friend Oppy, could I perchance--”

    “I don’t want your money,” Opportunist interrupted, something like guilt clawing at his chest. Or was it a sense of pride? He chose to believe it was the latter. “I’ve changed my mind! I’ll earn those hundreds another way. An honest way.”

    Witch cackled. “You? Honest?! Laughable! You don’t have an honest bone in your body!”

    “I’ve found a couple,” Wraith offered.

    “Thank you for the vote of confidence!” Opportunist exclaimed, patting his pockets. “Oh dear. Would you look at that? I seem to have left my wallet at home--”

    “I’ll pay for you,” Wraith cut in. “But you’ll owe me.”

    Opportunist sighed in relief, wilting. “...Thank you, boss. I promise, Oppy’ll make it up to you one day! …Please don’t leave me!”

    “You would be so lost without me,” Wraith agreed, pulling her wallet from her pocket. 

   “You should ditch him,” Witch said, biting at one of her nails. “Everyone knows you could do so much better.”

    “Why don’t you focus on your own love life and let me handle mine?” Wraith challenged. “I don’t need you or anyone else telling me how to live. I’m happy with my choices. All of them.”

    Witch flinched. She scowled at her nails, biting them more furiously.

    Opportunist smiled genuinely for the first time that day. He reached for Wraith’s hand. “Aw, shucks. You do always make the best choices! No one could do it better!”

    Wraith’s own smile grew more genuine. She chuckled, shaking her head. “Thank you.”

    Smitten pressed a hand to his heart, watching the pair fondly. “Oh, to hold your beloved’s heart in your hands so firmly…I envy the adoration you hold for each other. Perhaps from today on, I shall reach the same level of love with my dearest Witch!”

    Witch snorted, rolling her eyes. “I don’t think so. I’m happy to let you take me to a movie, but don’t think that means I actually like you or anything!”

    Smitten’s earnest smile faltered slightly. “Ah! Well, perhaps I can change your mind by the end of the day. I promise to make your experience on this date the most pleasant one imaginable!”

    Witch scoffed.

    “Oh, just give him a chance,” Wraith urged. “You might be surprised.”

    “I hate surprises,” Witch countered.

    “Even good ones?” Smitten asked.

    “All surprises,” Witch said firmly. “Not that people usually manage to surprise me. I’m very good at predicting how things will go.”

    Smitten nodded, advancing to the line at the ticket counter. He thought for a moment. “...Well, may I ask how you predict this evening will go?”

    “Easy. You’ll buy me a movie ticket and some snacks and a giant soda, then I’ll watch a great movie while not thinking about you at all, then I’ll go home and we’ll never talk to each other again!” Witch replied.

    Smitten nodded again, quiet as he stepped forwards to purchase tickets after Wraith. He finished a polite exchange with the teen running the register, smiling a bit sadly as he handed Witch her ticket.

    “If I can manage to upset this prediction just the slightest bit, would you perhaps consider speaking to me again after all?” he asked.

    Witch eyed him suspiciously, slowly taking her ticket from him. Her fingers brushed his as she did.

    It was subtle, but the slight touch seemed to stir something in Witch. She blushed slightly, huffing as she averted her eyes. “Whatever. I’ll think about it.”

    Smitten beamed. “Oh, huzzah! Then my mission tonight is clear!”

    “What, are you going to make her buy her own popcorn and drink?” Opportunist asked, gratefully taking his ticket from Wraith. “She did just take three-hundred dollars from you.”

    “Nonsense! A gentleman cannot make a lady pay for her things on a date,” Smitten scoffed. Opportunist winced, offering an apologetic smile to Wraith. “I just have to get her to think about me during the movie. I believe that will suffice.”

    Witch shifted her weight between feet, unwilling to admit that she could already sense that prediction wavering. There was something fascinating about the honesty and upfrontness of Smitten’s behavior. Something so unlike her last relationship. 

    How…frustrating.

    “We’ll see,” she said, stalking towards the theater doors. “Come on! We’re running out of time to get snacks! I want popcorn smothered in butter, a pack of Sour Patch Kids, and a KitKat!”

    “Coming, beloved!” Smitten exclaimed, happily trotting after Witch to the concession stand.

    Opportunist followed after them, gently reaching for Wraith’s hand again. “...I’ll cover the snacks. I didn’t actually forget my wallet.”

    “I know,” Wraith said.

    “I can be a gentleman sometimes,” Opportunist mumbled dejectedly.

    “I know,” Wraith repeated with a hint of warmth. “I like paying for things. Reminds us both who’s in charge.”

    “You are,” Opportunist agreed. “I never forget!”

    “That’s my boy,” Wraith praised.

    The two pairs entered the building and quickly joined the line for concessions. Smitten continued to chat happily with Witch as they waited to purchase their snacks, Witch avoiding eye contact by frowning at the opposite wall. Wraith and Opportunist exchanged a few words, but mostly, they mutually enjoyed the quiet, content to bask in the warmth of each other’s hand.

    At last, it was time for the movie. Witch carried a large tub of popcorn all for herself, a few packets of candy laying on top, while Smitten followed her with a small popcorn tub for himself. He smiled wistfully at his date, watching her with a genuine affection as they went into the theater. Opportunist shoved his wallet into his pocket, heaving a weighted sigh as he snuck a single handful of popcorn from Wraith’s tub. She shot him a brief glare, slapping the back of his head.

    The couples filtered into the theater and found their seats, positioned near the center of the room. Witch immediately kicked off her shoes, propping her feet on the seat ahead of her as she leaned back, shoveling popcorn into her mouth.

    Opportunist divided his time between watching the movie and watching Smitten. The lovestruck senior was probably Opportunist’s best friend, if he were honest with himself; the rest of the boys at Raven House tolerated him at best, but Smitten seemed genuinely fond of him. There was a piece of him, growing stronger after Witch’s biting critique of his relationship with Wraith, that feared being tossed aside if he failed to be a proper wingman on this date. He owed the man something, didn’t he?

    Anything to keep from being alone.

    It was just a split second. Halfway through the movie, as Witch was trying her best to stare directly at the movie, her eyes flickered to Smitten at her side, chin in hand as he stared lovingly at her profile.

    Opportunist spotted the light blush on her cheeks as she looked away again. He grinned, waiting until Witch noticed him staring so he could flash her a knowing smirk.

    She glared at him, a rage in her eyes Opportunist hadn’t seen since they broke up. He hummed, amused, and faced the screen again. She’d been caught breaking her own prediction. Perfect wingmanning.

    The movie ended to polite applause from the theater. Witch had already finished her own large popcorn and half of Smitten’s; she rushed to slip her shoes back on, hopping out of the seat and racing for the exit before anyone could say a word.

    Smitten’s pleasant smile wavered, a glimmer of disappointment drowning the hope in his eyes. Noticing, Opportunist reached across Witch’s empty seat to pat his shoulder.

    “Don’t be so glum, buddy,” he urged. “I saw her look at you once. She even blushed. Am I a perfect wingman or what? Eh? Eh?”

    Smitten’s face lit up immediately. “She did? My love! Then our courtship has not yet ended!”

    Enthusiastically, he leapt to his feet, gathering Opportunist’s hands in his as he passed through the aisle. “Thank you, friend Opportunist! Your words have given me hope! I must pursue my beautiful Witch before she absconds further from me!”

    Relieved, Opportunist grinned, squeezing Smitten’s hands. “What are friends for? Go get ‘er, tiger!”

    “I shall!” Smitten sang a little ditty to himself as he ran after Witch, leaving Opportunist and Wraith behind. Wraith waited until he was gone to stand, scooting out of the aisle to wait for Opportunist.

    Opportunist stayed seated for a moment before joining her, taking the lead on the way out of the theater.

    “...You’re not being abandoned,” Wraith murmured.

   “Hm?” Opportunist chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. “Of course, of course! No need to comfort me, boss. I’m fine!”

    “You’re a horrible liar,” Wraith said simply. “...What about me?”

    “You?” Opportunist glanced at her over his shoulder, noticing the sliver of vulnerability in her eyes. 

    This whole evening had likely activated her fears, too; after years of being pushed aside and having her wants and needs ignored, she was probably just waiting for him to give up on her like everyone else. It was…familiar, somehow. It was why they had ended up choosing each other.

    “Please.” Opportunist rolled his eyes with an earnest smile. “Where would I go? Back to that she-devil? Never. And you know I’m telling you the truth, because I am a horrible liar.”

    Wraith snorted. “...Thank you.”

~*~

    “My love! A moment, please!”

    Witch ignored Smitten’s voice, frustrated. She stomped out of the cinema and kicked the nearest trash can, groaning in annoyance.

    Of all the idiots for her brain to latch on to, did it have to be this loser? What was it about his dumb naivety that made her so…so…

    She kicked the trash can again, then again, and then again for good measure. Why did he even invite her to a movie if he was just going to stare at her adoringly the whole time? What was his angle? His scam? There had to be something. It was driving her mad.

    She tuned out all of his ramblings on the way back to campus, too. Her eyes stayed locked outside the window, watching trees and other cars zip by so as not to give Smitten the satisfaction of thinking she actually thought about him. She didn’t think about him. She had no reason to. He was just a stupid ditz who fell for her obvious scams.

    Maybe it was a bad idea to invite her ex’s new girlfriend on her new date with her. Now she was stuck comparing the two, Smitten’s sweet sincerity contrasting with the suave sneakiness she found so familiar in Opportunist. It was so different from what she was used to. Infuriatingly different.

    She didn’t say a word the whole drive home. As soon as the car stopped, she threw the car door open and hopped out, slamming it behind her as she ran to the door of Regal House.

    Heather was the only person in the common room when Witch entered the house. Witch beelined for the kitchen, ignoring Heather for the time being. Popcorn wasn’t enough. She missed her onion chips.

    “You had a date, right?” Heather asked quietly. “With…with Smitten. How did it go? How is he…?”

    “It was awful! He’s awful! I hate him and I hate movies! Don’t talk to me!” Witch snapped, fleeing up the stairs to her room with a bag of chips hugged to her chest.

    Wraith entered just as she disappeared up the stairs, crossing her arms. Heather frowned worriedly, glancing at her instead.

    “Was it okay…?” she asked. “Did something go wrong?”

    Wraith shrugged. “Oh, she’s definitely in love with him.”

Chapter Text

   Contrarian cheered, beelining for the backstage area of the school theater as soon as he and the other Ravens entered. “This is the best day of my life! I’m going to try on all the costumes!”

    “Just be careful with them, don’t get the theater department in trouble!” Hero called after him. “...Is he allowed to do that?”

    Smitten shrugged. “I was not told anything was forbidden for the night. We have free reign of the theater! President Apotheosis has been so kind to us!”

    Tower smiled serenely, patting Broken’s head in a way that felt condescending. “Yes, my sister is very generous. But do be careful. If you make a mess in the theater, we won’t be able to have these lock-ins again.”

    Smitten nodded. “Yes, please do treat the building with respect! Many marvelous productions have taken place on this stage…it would be a crying shame if anything were to happen to it. And I would hate for any of you to be banned…”

    The theater department at Corvid University had secured permission to host a school lock-in for the night, as a way to drum up support for their next musical. Smitten, of course, enthusiastically invited his entire dorm to attend, and the event had evidently caught the attention of several residents of Royal and Regal House as well. Tower was a given--she was in the theater program with Smitten--but others, such as Adversary, were more unexpected visitors.

    Adversary picked at a piece of meat between her teeth with her nail, her other arm engaged in arm wrestling with Stubborn. “So this whole lock-in thing, it means you’re all trapped here with me? I can beat the shit out of you and no staff will try to stop me?”

    “Don’t get distracted now!” Stubborn urged gleefully. “The only opponent you need to worry about right now is me. And I don’t go down so easy!”

    Adversary grinned, leaning towards him excitedly. “Oh, don’t think I forgot about you! We’re gonna be doing this all night!”

    “I can’t wait,” Stubborn replied, beaming.

    “...I’m just gonna let them be,” Hero sighed. “...Where did Hunted and Paranoid go?”

    “They dragged Cold and Skeptic away to check the area for Nightmare and her crew,” Cheated said. “First thing they did when they got here. …Didn’t think to invite me…”

    “At least they’re not alone,” Hero murmured.

    Soft footsteps approached the group from behind. Hero and Cheated turned around to see Spectre and Damsel, arm-in-arm.

    “Hiya, boys,” Spectre greeted. “So you’re all here? Oh, Cheated, Razor is on her way.”

    Cheated’s face fell. “She’s what.”

    “I thought you might like a head start to go hide,” Spectre said pleasantly.

    As if on cue, the doors slammed open and a cheerful Razor skipped inside. “Yooohoooo! Where is my faaaavorite Raven?”

    “Oh fuck!” Cheated grabbed Hero’s arm and ran for the backstage area, nearly tripping over Smitten as he was going to greet Damsel. Hero stumbles after him, alert. “Get away from me, you fuckin’ psychopath!”

    “Who, me?” Razor prompted, giggling. “But I’m just a girl! I definitely didn’t sneak a switchblade on campus that I can use for…normal purposes! Nothing to do with stabbing! I would never stab anyone!”

    “Except that one time you stabbed Cheated in the hand with a pencil in the middle of biology,” Spectre said.

    “What? Nooo!” Razor insisted. “I merely poked him very politely! It’s not my fault his flesh was so weak and squishy and easy to pierce through! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a good friend I must go…greet politely!”

    “Don’t get expelled,” Spectre warned with a small smile.

    “Welcome, ladies!” Smitten greeted, as Razor skipped off to track down Cheated and Hero. “Please, make yourselves comfortable in our illustrious theater. Damsel, it is lovely to see you again!”

    Damsel giggled. “Hello, Smitten! Thank you so much for letting us sleep in the theater!”

    “Any time, my dear,” Smitten assured. “Pray tell, is Witch coming tonight? I haven’t heard from her since our date…”

    “The date was yesterday,” Opportunist pointed out from one of the theater seats.

    Smitten sighed dramatically. “And every second since has felt like hours. How I miss her wily grin…”

    “I think she’ll be by,” Spectre said. “She’s been moping. But I encouraged her to come out and have some fun tonight.”

    “Her idea of fun is scamming us,” Opportunist sighed. “You shouldn’t have told her that.”

    As the time ticked on, more and more students filtered into the theater. Patty and Heather entered arm-in-arm, Heather offering Smitten a single nervous, sad smile before drifting towards Stubborn and Adversary to watch their continuing wrestling matches. Wraith arrived with Witch and Thorn, exchanging a greeting with Spectre. Witch scurried to hide from Smitten, hissing in his direction any time he looked over, while Thorn departed to see where Cheated had gotten off to. The Grey twins, Burned and Drowned, trickled in behind Stranger, who wheeled Wild’s wheelchair for her, and soon the theater was full of every student from Raven, Regal, and Royal Houses.

    The clock struck ten. Smitten grinned, walking to the front doors to make sure they were locked tight. Tower sent Broken to the west doors while she handled the east doors.

    Smitten jogged to the steps up to the stage, taking hold of the only microphone they had permission to use. “Ladies and gentlemen! I welcome you to a night of revelry and fun! Please, make yourselves at home and do your best not to break anything!”

    Razor whistled conspicuously and hid the definitely-not-broken headset mic she’d found behind her back.

    “Let the lock-in commence!”

~*~

    Stranger found Contrarian still digging through piles of old costumes and trying on absolutely all of them. They chuckled, taking a seat on the floor nearby to wait for Contrarian to pop out of the clothes pile.

    After a moment, he did, wearing a military jacket that was far too big. He spotted Stranger after a moment, gasping excitedly. “Stranger! My best friend! My favorite person! Wanna put on an old chimney sweep uniform?!”

    He rummaged in the pile of costumes for a moment, then shoved a pair of overalls at Stranger. They took it, smiling.

    “We’d love to,” Stranger replied. “What have you been doing over here?”

    “I’m trying to find the funniest costume,” Contrarian declared. “That, or the scariest. I can’t wait to prank Paranoid tonight by sneaking into his room in a big robe!”

    Stranger cocked their head curiously, standing so they could try on the overalls. “He’ll probably be upset if you do.”

    “He’ll forgive me,” Contrarian said lightly, diving back under the pile of clothes. With him now distracted, Stranger stepped over to a corner of the room to change into the overalls. “And if he doesn’t, that’s fine. I’ll always have you! …R-right? Are--you’re not mad at me for accidentally sending you into an episode three months ago, are you? I’m sorry…”

    “We’re not mad,” Stranger assured gently. “In fact, I…think we’re happier now. More aware of each other. It feels…right.”

    Contrarian sighed in relief. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t think all the poking and prodding would…hurt.”

    “It’s okay,” Stranger soothed. “We’re okay. It was just confusing for us at the time. But we’ve always been together, it isn’t like you made us manifest.”

    “I’m probably just too stupid to get it,” Contrarian decided, popping up from the pile of costumes with a maid dress. He looked around for Stranger, spotted them in the corner, and went to the opposite corner to give them some privacy while he tried to fit into the dress. “This one’s my favorite, I’ve decided. I’m gonna wear this all night. If it’ll fit.”

    “Hm…” Stranger finished buttoning the overalls and went to root through the costume pile themselves. Finding a dapper tuxedo, they stood, returning to their corner to try it on. “I think I’ll try this one, then! We can match.”

    Contrarian gasped. “Yes! Haha, perfect! We can run around being annoying and asking everyone what chores we can do for them!”

    “Yay!”

    Contrarian attempted to shimmy into the maid dress and accidentally tore a hole in the waist. He sniffled. “Nooooo…! I broke iiiiit! And not even in a funny way!”

    “Oh no…!” Stranger hurried over to help Contrarian escape the dress, buttoning up their dress shirt. “Oh…maybe we can find another matching pair to wear?”

    “I hope so…” Contrarian sighed, trudging back to the pile of clothes. He rooted through for a moment before pulling out a Santa outfit and matching dress. He grinned. “...I know what we must do.”

    Stranger beamed, snatching the Santa outfit from his hand and returning to their corner. “Presents for everyone!”

    “We’re gonna be so sexy!”

~*~

    Paranoid checked the corners of the room he had chosen as his for the thirtieth time, letting out a shaky sigh as he settled back between Cold and Skeptic. “Still clear. No sign of her.”

    “She isn’t very good at sneaking. She always announces her presence somehow,” Cold said.

    Hunted poked her head out from underneath a row of chairs. “Keep your ears peeled. No noise. She’ll find us.”

    Skeptic sighed, shaking his head. “You’re being unreasonable, you know. They’re just a group of college girls. They can’t hurt you.”

    Paranoid shot him a harsh glare. “Just girls? You don’t know the depths of the torment they have subjected us to.”

    “Just let it roll off your back,” Cold advised. “They only continue to hurt you because it works. If you stopped reacting, they wouldn’t pick on you. It’s why their tricks don’t work on me.”

    “That’s easier said than done,” Paranoid snapped.

    “Quiet,” Hunted repeated in a hiss. Paranoid obligingly went silent.

    He debated for a moment, then grumbled something and left Cold and Skeptic to hide under the chairs with Hunted. She shimmied further down the row to make room for him, the tiny smile on her face showing she was grateful for his presence.

    Skeptic pushed himself to his feet, crossing his arms. “Right. Okay. Well, while you dig yourselves deeper into a pit of irrational terror, I’m going to look around the building a bit.”

    “You’re leaving us…?!” Paranoid gasped.

    “I’ll stay,” Cold offered, a touch gentler than their usual tone. “Watching over you gives me something to occupy my attention. I would just be bored otherwise.”

    Paranoid relaxed only slightly at Cold’s reassurance. He grumbled something under his breath, tucking his limbs close. Hunted pressed her shoulder into his for comfort.

    Skeptic nodded to Cold, glad that someone was willing to stay with the most skittish Ravens even if that someone wasn’t him. He passed Fury on his way out of the room; she shot him a glare as he walked by her, skirting around him as much as she could.

    Fury watched Skeptic leave for a moment before checking the room he’d left. Cold looked up as they took a seat just outside where Hunted and Paranoid were hiding, tilting their head invitingly.

    “Are you just wandering?” Cold asked. “Come inside. You have nothing else to do.”

    Paranoid tugged on their sweater. “Are you crazy…?! She’s the worst one…!”

    “She’s harmless,” Cold assured.

    Fury’s eye twitched. “Harmless? Watch your tone, Raven. I could hurt you a thousand different ways.”

    “I know. It’s what makes you so fun,” Cold replied, something almost approaching earnest affection sneaking into their voice.

    Fury stiffened, slightly caught off-guard. She started to leave the room, but a nagging sort of loneliness tugged at her heart until she somehow ended up inside, settling on the floor across from Cold. A bit embarrassed, she avoided their eyes, hugging her knees.

    “Welcome,” Cold greeted. “I think your presence frightens the others.”

    Hunted hissed at Fury from under the chairs. Fury hissed back even more viciously. Hunted recoiled, gripping Paranoid’s hoodie.

    Fury was quiet for a moment. She huffed, resting her cheek on her arm. “I’m glad they fear me. It means they won’t bother getting close.”

    Cold tilted their head again, extending a leg just far enough to lightly tap Fury’s toes with theirs. “If you don’t want anyone close, then why did you come?”

    Fury bristled, squeezing her knees closer. “I don’t owe you an explanation. Don’t talk to me like you know anything.”

    “Hm,” Cold uttered simply. They fell quiet, waiting until Fury relaxed enough to release her knees. She still avoided looking at anyone, reluctance clear in her dark grey eyes. “I think I know more than you’d like to admit.”

    “Does pushing me amuse you?” Fury spat.

    “Yes,” Cold replied with a miniscule smile, as if this were obvious. “Just as pushing us amuses you. I thought this was clear.”

    “It doesn’t amuse me,” Fury muttered.

    “Then why do you do it?”

    Fury fell silent again, huffing. She spread her legs in front of her, one ankle leaning slightly against Cold’s knee. Cold hummed, leaning against the back of the row of chairs. Paranoid peered out from behind their back, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Fury as if waiting for her to snap.

    She remained silent, a look in her eyes that would have been indecipherable to anyone else. But to Cold, it was a familiar sort of buried sorrow.

    “We’re watching out for Nightmare and her crew,” they explained. “You’re welcome to stay and help.”

    Fury grunted. Slowly, quietly, she moved from her spot to sit just beside Cold, their hips barely touching. They remained in a strangely comfortable silence.

    Paranoid watched them for a second before leaning over to Hunted. “What is their deal…?”

    Hunted squinted at them. “...I think they’re close.”

    “They’re so…weird,” Paranoid mumbled. Hunted nodded.

~*~

    Drowned stood by her sister while Burned stared at Smitten from behind a corner. She frowned, leaning against the wall. “You are much too attached to that man. You have to move on.”

    “We’re meant to be,” Burned said wistfully. “One day we’ll be together and dance under the sunset and have a picnic under the stars, and then he’ll ask me to marry him and we’ll die together at the ripe old age of 73!”

    “Have you ever even met?” Drowned asked.

    “We had one class together freshman year,” Burned cooed. “And it was all I needed to know our love was true!”

    “You put too much trust in others,” Drowned said quietly. “They…betray you. Easily. …Heather?”

    Heather jumped, realizing she’d been spotted lingering nearby. A bit sheepishly, she shuffled over to the Grey twins, smiling nervously. “I’m sorry. I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”

    “Not at all,” Drowned assured. She glanced at Burned, who stared at Smitten with a lovestruck smile. “Maybe you can talk some sense into my sister. You know what Smitten is like.”

    “Oh…” Heather’s smile grew a bit more strained, then flickered out entirely. She leaned into the wall beside Drowned, fidgeting. “He’s…he’s kind. He is. He just wants to make you happy. He’s just…”

    She waved a hand in the air vaguely. “...Extreme. Smitten…has a lot of feelings, and sometimes those feelings get so big they become blinding. B-but I don’t blame him for anything that happened with us! It just…didn’t work out for us. I wish him every happiness. Really, I do.”

    “I can make him happy!” Burned blurted, hopping excitedly. “I can! I can make him so happy!”

    “He broke Heather’s heart. He’ll break yours too,” Drowned muttered. “Like Skeptic did mine. What is with those Ravens? Can’t they just commit to anything? For once?”

    “Broken and Tower have been together for a while,” Heather offered, in a tone of voice that suggested this may not have been a good thing. “And…we broke each other’s heart, really. We were new at this. I was too scared of hurting him to speak up when I was unhappy, and he was too determined to make me happy to pay attention to what was actually happening. That’s…all.”

    Drowned’s eyes fell to the floor. She sighed deeply, leaning over to Heather slightly. “...I wish hearts weren’t so soft.”

    “If they weren’t, they couldn’t love,” Heather said softly, reaching for Drowned’s hand. “...We can heal. I’m doing better these days.”

    “Can you talk to him for me, Heather?” Burned begged. “Please? Tell him I love him and he’s the sun in my sky! Tell him I can’t imagine life without him! Tell him I would happily melt in his arms to bring him joy!”

    “You need therapy, not a lovesick boyfriend,” Drowned deadpanned.

    “I can have both!” Burned insisted.

    She yelped, gasping and retreating around the corner. “He looked at me…! He looked at meeeee…!”

    Drowned rolled her eyes.

    “Ah! Hello, my lady!” Smitten’s voice called. Burned squealed and ran to hide behind Drowned, twirling her hair in her fingers as Smitten rounded the corner. “I apologize! I did not mean to…”

    He trailed off as his gaze fell on Heather, a flicker of genuine sadness stealing his usual smile. “...Ah! I…I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were here.”

    “It’s alright,” Heather said softly. “You don’t have to avoid me. I hope you’ve been well.”

    Smitten revived a small, sad smile, nodding to her. “...And I you. I…hope you have been happy.”

    “I am,” Heather assured. “It’s okay. …Oh. Um, have you met Burned Grey…?”

    “Please don’t encourage her,” Drowned begged. Burned grinned behind her, waving enthusiastically to Smitten.

    “I believe I’ve seen you on campus,” Smitten said, returning her wave. “Greetings, Miss Grey! I am Smitten. It’s lovely to meet you!”

    “I love you,” Burned blurted, squeezing Drowned’s arm excitedly.

    Smitten seemed flattered, lightly pressing a hand to his heart. “Oh! Why, thank you, my lady! To have earned the affection of a beauty such as yourself is fine praise indeed!”

    Burned just about swooned against Drowned’s side, fanning her face with her free hand. “Beauty…he called me a beauty…”

    “He probably says that to everyone,” Drowned muttered, glancing at Heather out of the corner of her eyes. Heather shrugged, avoiding her gaze.

    “Are you ladies enjoying the night so far?” Smitten asked, eyes landing on Heather again. “I hope we’ve been able to provide you with ample entertainment!”

    “It’s been fun!” Heather agreed quickly. “It has. It’s fun. I’m having fun.”

    She noticed Smitten’s eyebrows knit together slightly, a hint of doubt in his smile.

    “I’m having fun,” she repeated earnestly. “Patty and I were exploring the classrooms behind the theater for a while. I never knew there were so many rooms in this building! I’ve only ever been in the front to watch shows.”

    “I’m having a great time!” Burned agreed. “Any time I get to see you is a great time…”

    “You flatter me, my dear,” Smitten said with a chuckle, bowing slightly to Burned. She leaned further into Drowned with a wistful sigh, face bright red. Drowned folded her arms, scowling at Smitten. “Perhaps I could show you around the theater? I would be happy to--”

    A distinctively Witch-like cackle interrupted him. Smitten perked up, alert, and glanced back out onto the stage to see what was happening. Witch had evidently managed to sneak up behind Opportunist and push him into the band pit. He shouted protests at her from between a few chairs.

    An earnest, warm smile took over Smitten’s face. He bowed again to the Grey twins and Heather. “I’m so terribly sorry, but I’ll have to take my leave for now. I’ve been looking for Witch all night, and my heart demands I speak with her at once! Perhaps we shall encounter each other again before the night is through!”

    “Okay! I’ll be here! Watching!” Burned said excitedly. Smitten waved a brief goodbye to her before hurrying back to the stage to talk to Witch.

    Burned waited a moment, then squealed delightedly and tackled Heather in a hug. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! He’s so perfect! Isn’t he just perfect?! We’re going to be married! We’re going to be together forever! This is just the start of a love that will last until time itself ends!”

    Heather smiled awkwardly, patting her back. “I don’t know, you…you shouldn’t get ahead of yourself…”

    “I’m not getting ahead of anything! I am perfectly paced!” Burned insisted, a tinge of madness dyeing her voice. “I know in my heart we’re meant to be! It’s only a matter of time!”

    “You’re going to get hurt,” Drowned warned. “One day he’ll just decide he’s not ready and stop talking to you, and you’ll never find out why until someday you see him with another woman and realize he was just using you to get over his ex. And then you’ll lock yourself in your room and cry for an entire week because you thought you finally found someone who understood you.”

    Heather patted her shoulder comfortingly.

    Burned scoffed, waving her hand dismissively as she resumed staring at Smitten from afar. “I’m sorry your relationship ended poorly. But mine is true love and I won’t let your pessimism ruin it.”

    “Fine,” Drowned said. “I’ll just be ready with an ‘I told you so’ when you’re the one crying in your room for a week.”

    Heather smiled nervously. “It’s…nice to see siblings getting along…”

~*~

    “Witch! My love!”

    Witch jumped as Smitten approached, instinctively scurrying behind the nearest support pillar. She peered out from behind it with a scowl.

    “Oh…it’s you,” she muttered, slowly emerging from her hiding spot and crossing her arms. “What do you want? You already dragged me on your date.”

    “About that!” Smitten exclaimed. “What are you thinking for our next date? Perhaps a trip to the park? Or a picnic under the stars? Or a fancy steak dinner downtown!”

    Opportunist slowly stood up from the band pit, resting his arms on the stage as he watched the two.

    Witch’s eyes drifted to him and hardened even further. “What next date? When did I tell you there would be a next date?”

    Smitten cocked his head innocently. “Oh! Well, I suppose you hadn’t yet. But your prediction was thrown off, which I believe means--”

    “It meant I would consider talking to you again,” Witch interrupted. “Not that I actually like you. Certainly not enough for a second date. The first one wasn’t even a date. It was a trick.”

    Smitten’s bright smile faltered. Opportunist winced.

    “Come on, give the man a chance,” Opportunist urged. “He’s a nice guy! You might end up really happy.”

    “I don’t want you lecturing me about what makes me happy,” Witch hissed venomously. “I know what makes me happy. And it’s not you.”

    “But it could be Smitten,” Opportunist pressed. “You never know! And don’t you want to know?”

    “Yes! Precisely!” Smitten exclaimed. “Perchance, may I interest you in another trip to the cinema? No matter if it is a trick! So long as I can make you happy.”

    Witch’s eye twitched, her gaze conflicted.

    Her eyes caught on Burned Grey peering across the stage, tracing the other girl’s fawning gaze to Smitten. The conflict grew stronger for a brief moment, then settled into a cold anger. She grinned sardonically, taking a step closer to Smitten and leaning towards him slightly.

    “You wanna know what’ll make me so, so happy?” she purred.

    Smitten brightened, nodding excitedly. “Yes! Of course! Anything for you, my beloved!”

    “Leave me alone,” Witch snapped, the anger flaring briefly. “I’ll make this very clear for you, okay? I do not like you! I do not like any of you, I don’t want to be your ‘beloved,’ and I do not need a relationship to be happy! I am perfectly content with my stacks of money, my sour cream and onion chips, and my barely-passing grades! Last night meant nothing to me. You mean nothing to me. I’ve considered all my options like I promised, and I have decided I will not ever talk to you again! Goodbye!”

    Smitten’s smile was slowly overtaken by a look of genuine hurt. He stared at Witch as if he wanted to protest, but he held his tongue, lower lip trembling.

    Witch’s amused grin faded. She averted her eyes, quickly whirling on her heels and stalking off the stage. Opportunist watched her for a moment, then pulled himself onstage and hesitantly went to Smitten’s side.

    “...Smit…” A bit nervously, he reached out to touch Smitten’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “...You alright, mate?”

    Smitten tried to smile, but it quickly disappeared. He sighed drearily, expression forlorn. “It’s alright. I’ve learned I can’t please everyone, unfortunately.”

    “She’s just being mean,” Opportunist insisted. “She says stuff to hurt you. It’s how she is.”

    Smitten nodded slowly, then suddenly pulled Opportunist into a hug. Opportunist jumped, genuinely shocked.

    He heard quiet sniffles after a moment. Wincing, he hugged Smitten back, patting his shoulder a bit awkwardly.

    “...It’s alright,” he soothed. “You’re a good guy! Can’t win ‘em all. I’m sure there’s a woman out there who would be more than happy to patch up your broken heart.”

    “I would!” Burned Grey yelled from just offstage. “I’ll do it! Please let me do it!”

    “Burned! Shh!” Drowned hissed.

    Opportunist smiled slightly. “There you go! What’d I tell you? You’re popular! You’re handsome! You’re sweet! You’ve got a lot going for you, and anyone would be lucky to call you theirs.”

    Smitten nodded again, sniffling louder. “...Thank you, Oppy. You are a good friend.”

    Opportunist’s heart swelled; because he was touched or because he was proud, he couldn’t tell.

    “...You too, mate,” he replied quietly. “Now come on, who wants to raid the concession stand for some hot chocolate packets?!”

    “Hot chocolate does sound lovely,” Smitten admitted.

    “That’s the spirit!” Patting Smitten on the back emphatically, Opportunist withdrew from his only friend and started towards the stairs. “Maybe your new girl can come along!”

    “I did promise to show her around the theater,” Smitten said, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. He flashed a charming smile to Burned. “Would you care to join us on a walk around th--”

    “Yes,” Burned interrupted, leaving her sister and Heather at last to join with Smitten and Opportunist. She took Smitten’s arm the moment he offered it, squeezing him close with a thrilled giggle. “After you, my sweet prince!”

    “‘Atta boy,” Opportunist praised. “Who needs Witch?”

    Smitten nodded, the cheer in his eyes lacking sincerity. He followed after Opportunist with Burned attached to him arm, casting a final glance at Witch as he passed. Witch had shuffled away to talk with Patty and Wraith.

    Their eyes met for a single second before Witch tore her gaze away.

    Smitten frowned, his eyes falling to the floor. Moving on was always so…painful.

    But oh, how he hated being alone.

    The clock struck eleven.