Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kwazii woke up, stretching his tail and arms.

He paused for a moment, trying to recall his dream. What was that about again?

He got out of bed and walked over to his blue-and-orange calendar. Oh, right, he thought. My dream was about my ears… growing and stretching uncontrollably. And then some random angel was telling me to wake up.

Kwazii chuckled to himself as he grabbed an orange marker and circled the day he dreaded most.

First Day of Hell (A.K.A. School).

He giggled at the sight of the small circle he drew around the words. The first day of school, where parents banish their kids to a place filled with rules and disappointment. Girls in fluffy pink dresses with the school logo plastered everywhere, and boys forced into these ridiculous blue uniforms with puffy sleeves, neat hair, and the same logo.

Kwazii couldn’t help but laugh, remembering how he’d dyed his uniform orange and embroidered it with little bows. Take that, conformity.

Kwazii grabbed his uniform that he dyed, once again giggling at the sight of it.
Kwazii pulled on the (Very ugly) Uniform, slipping on the shirt and pants. To finish his look he put his long hair into a bland braid and put some eyeliner on.

He was ready—well ready enough. He then skipped to the kitchen to pour himself some cereal.
He grabbed the nearest box and a dirty bowl and poured the cereal out the box. He started to shake it a bit too hard, causing his Pet parrot to fall out.
“Pete? What were you doing in that box?” He said, petting the parrot gently, he carefully walks over to Pete’s cage and puts him back into the cage. “What am I gonna do with you?”

Kwazii quickly got his book bag and slinged it over his shoulder.

He kinda wished his mom was awake to take him to the bus stop, but she was usually passed on the ground from drinking too much of course, he hated it but she didn’t take it out on him, which was good? Kwazii walked out the door to his house and started to walk.

He sighed and thought to himself about his mother and deteriorating family. He hated how they nicknamed him crybaby, he wasn’t a crybaby, he was just..a bit sensitive but that didn’t make him any less himself.

The bus pulled up to the Bus stop and got on. He walked down the aisle until finding his best friend: Peso! They’d been friends for a while at least. He sat down next to Peso as the chaos erupted from behind them.

Going to a new school was already annoying enough, but having to deal with screaming kids who like to put their asses to the windows and kids who loved to pick on and bully.

You could also hear bickering in the back of the bus, the sound of planning fights and the hopes of getting their..cycle. Kwazii shuddered at the word, not a great thing to think about.

His mind slowly shifted back to peso who’d then again, been there since they were littleHe was lucky to have a familiar face at this, New school. Oh yeah! He’d forgotten to mention about the school.
The school they were heading to was called Ocean Academy, a disciplinary school for children who misbehaved, or kids that are misfits: like Him and Peso. It was also a sleepaway school, which was odd.

People say that this school is one of the best in the country, that it’s perfect for kids that want to learn about the history of the ocean, future biologists, scientists, everything! But Kwazii thinks that they can kiss his ass and even expel him, he didn’t even care about the school.

The only thing they wanted was power and control, and for kids to behave, to become the perfect examples of the world, to make sure the newest generation would be straight as a line.

The bus driver didn’t care enough about the kids to tell them to sit down, or to stop putting their buttocks to the windows. Kwazii snickered at the word, Peso had always used it to be “modest”

The bus came to a halt. They were picking up one last student, it was Paani, his new found crush.Kwazii sighed and looked right up at him, his heart racing.
Dashi glanced and started growling at Kwazii.Dashi was Paani’s girlfriend and he hated it, Kwazii had no chance at winning Paani over when Dashi was all over him the whole time.

Paani sat down across from Dashi. Since she was already sitting on the outside of the seat.

Peso elbowed Kwazii, grinning widely “you got a crush? Ooooo” Peso teased Kwazii and he said it a bit too loud, Well—loud enough for Dashi to hear.

Dashi glanced back at Kwazii and snarled “Watch out buck teeth,” Dashi said with a sneer. Her voice is sharp. “You don’t have a chance with my man: especially since your dad isn't around much anymore hm?”

Dashi and her crew, (Which consists of Tweak, Her and Sam.) Started to laugh, she elbowed Paani so he could get the whole bus to laugh.

Kwazii sniffed at the mention of his dad. He had died a while ago. It’s the reason his mom became an addict. The words hit a nerve, his throat tightened and before he could stop, his tears started to form.
“Aw..is the cry baby gonna cry?” Sam said, as she snickered. Salty tears welled up, blurring Kwazii’s vision.

The laughter on the bus grew louder. The back of the bus also consisted of screams and cries and even started to make out on the bus..which grossed the two out.

Peso then nudged Kwazii “Hey..it’s okay” Peso put his flipper on Kwazii’s shoulder. “Don’t let them get into your head, alright?” Peso smiled. Kwazii smiled back and wiped his tears and chin. “Yeah..I needed that..thanks peso” Kwazii said.

The bus screeched to a halt in front of the school. It was this huge white building with pastel blue and pink splattered all over it. The ocean markings and kelp wrapping around the place were kinda nice, but honestly, the graffiti was what stood out the most. It gave the place this edgy vibe that made everything look more..interesting

The bus driver screamed, ‘Get the fuck off my bus!’ Kwazii snorted under his breath. It was kind of rude, but whatever. The guy probably had a bad morning. He shook his head, and Peso shot him a look that was basically saying, ‘Yeah, that guy’s an asshole.’

Kwazii and Peso were always the last two to get off. They didn’t rush. Why would they? Everyone else was already scrambling to get out, pushing each other, laughing, or yelling. It wasn’t like they were going to miss anything important anyway. Kwazii grabbed his bag, dragging his feet as he slowly made his way to the exit.

Peso followed, of course, with that look on his face like he was already done with everything. The bus driver was giving them dirty looks, but Kwazii didn’t care. It wasn’t like he was in a hurry to get to school, especially not on the first day. He just wanted to get over with.

Kwazii walked into the school building, and honestly, it looked kinda pretty— but in that weird, eerie way. The colors were all pastel, but they gave off a vibe like the place was trying too hard to look good, and it wasn’t really working. He glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw Peso shivering.Kwazii elbowed him to snap him out of it. “You ready for class?” he asked, smirking. “I mean, we’re already late, but—”

He cut himself off and grabbed Peso’s flipper, dragging him up the stairs.The two of them hustled up the flights of stairs, out of breath by the time they reached the classroom door. Kwazii stopped and looked at Peso, hoping to cheer him up. “Ready?”Peso just shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.” His voice was flat, unsure, and Kwazii could tell he wasn’t feeling it.

Kwazii pushed open the door to the classroom, being shot a look by the whole class. Including the teacher. “You’re late. You are supposed to be in your assigned seat before class starts.” The Teacher said.Kwazii didn’t even know her name, and there was already assigned seats?

How the hell is that possible? The teacher pointed at two empty seats. Both were no one near each other. Kwazii groaned and waved bye to peso, before sitting down at his seat.He looked at his surroundings. Dashi was sitting at a table diagonal from his. Paani was sitting behind him, Tweak was sitting next to him and Sam? Another homeroom completely.

Chapter Text

Kwazii disliked the tension between him and Dashi; it was utterly unbearable. He also hated how she loved to build up his anger.

During class today she was all over Paani—or atleast to Kwazii she was. She had even gone as far as to purposely look back at Kwazii just to smirk.

The bell rang loudly.
Lunch time.

Kwazii got up and kept his gaze on Dashi and Paani. He hadn’t noticed that Peso was walking up to him.

He growled and tightened his fists at the sight of Dashi all over him. Peso nudged Kwazii, trying to get his attention. “You’re doing that thing where you glare at people and want to set them on fire.” He almost shrieked at the sound of Peso’s voice.

Kwazii blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. “Excuse me?” Peso raised an eyebrow. “You’re staring at Dashi and Paani, You’re mad and I know it.” Peso said with a steady voice. Kwazii sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“We should get to lunch before they yell at us for being late to lunch.” Kwazii said, storming off as Peso quickly followed behind.

The cafeteria was crowded and buzzing with noises, but Kwazii was too mad to hear it. He grabbed his tray and shoved it on the table. Peso followed behind and started to continue talking about how we had an assignment due at the end of this month.

Kwazii muted Peso’s annoying voice, focusing on Dashi. His tray was left untouched. He hadn’t eaten since the morning, he couldn’t hold the food down anyways.

His hands curled into a fist and he gritted his teeth. He stared from his seat at the two, Peso continued to speak as Kwazii got more and more irritated than before.

Kwazii got up and pushed his chair in. He wasn’t about to deal with this. He had enough of Dashi, and it definitely wasn’t worth it to waste his energy on her.

“Going somewhere buck teeth?”

Dashi was in front of him, just to annoy him at this point.Kwazii froze, trying to keep his composure. “Move.” Kwazii had snapped, his patience running thin.

He crossed his arms and looked Dashi dead in the eye. “Are you not hungry? Or did all that staring make you tired?” She said, The cafeteria was silent. Only murmuring and whispering being heard.

Peso nudged Kwazii to try and get his attention. “Come on, let’s just go.” Peso muttered. Oh but Dashi wasn’t finished.

“You know,” she mused, twirling a strand of her hair, “you would’ve been one of my friends if you weren’t so… desperate.”

Kwazii rolled his eyes. Not taking the bait.

Then—she leaned in.

Her voice was a whisper, low and cruel.

She leaned in, her voice also and low as a whisper.

“Did you really think Paani would want a fatherless fuck?”

Kwazii’s blood boiled, his vision red.The only thing that echoed in his mind was one thing his father said.

“Aim for the throat.”

The cafeteria went silent.Kwazii’s breath hitched. His heart pounded.

Fatherless fuck.

The words repeated in his head, over and over. Then, his father’s voice echoed in his mind.“If you ever get in a fight, don’t waste time. Aim for the throat.”

Before he could think, he swung. His fist slammed into Dashi’s jaw, knocking her back. Gasps filled the cafeteria.

“HOLY SHIT!” A student got up and nudged his friends, pointing at the fight starting. Someone broke the silence, starting up a chant.

“Fight! Fight! Fight!”Dashi wiped her lip, then grinned. “That's all you got?” She lunged. Kwazii barely dodged before she kneed him in the ribs. Pain shot through him, but he didn’t stop. He shoved her hard, sending her stumbling into a table.

But she wasn’t done. With a quick sweep, she kicked his legs out from under him. He hit the ground, and before he could get up, she pinned him down.

No.

Memories crashed into him—a rough grip, a slurred voice.He bucked upward, knocking her off. Then, before he could stop himself, his hands were on her throat.

Dashi’s eyes went wide. She clawed at his wrists, gasping.

“Aim for the throat.”

His grip tightened.

Then—“Kwazii, STOP!”

Peso’s voice snapped him back.Kwazii froze. Dashi was red-faced, coughing for air.

His stomach dropped. He let go and stumbled back.

The cafeteria went silent.

The cheering had died down, he’d done something wrong. “what the HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?” Dashi—almost—screaming. She coughed uncontrollably as a teacher blew a whistle.

“Both of you, to the office. NOW.” 

Chapter Text

The office was quiet, two other students remained in the chairs next to them. It was one boy who was apparently “sleeping.” Which they were told by the nurses.

And another student, eating a cartoon of glue. The boy smacked his lips, slurping the goopy, wet glue. It was surprisingly more of a liquid. Not thick like other glues.

Dashi groaned at the noises the boy was making. “That’s fucking disgusting!” She yelled. Trying to get him to shut up.

He whimpered at her booming voice and threw away the glue carton. Kwazii expected a slap across the face, Detention, Suspension, or even expulsion!

But no, he was sitting in a pretty fancy—light pink chair (that didn’t even look good!) Waiting for the stupid principal to let them into the office.

The Receptionist broke the silence. “Dashi? Kwazii?” The principal is ready to see you now.” The lady said with a wide smile. A bit too wide for Kwazii. The two of them walked to the giant doors that led to the Principal’s office. They walked inside the room to see the desk and two chairs. “Go ahead. Sit down.” The man said, grinning.Dashi and Kwazii sat down as he looked at the two.

“A fight on the first day? I expected better.” He said as he pulled up a folder. “I’m Principal Barrington.”

“Now I’m surely disappointed in both of you, but I’ll let you off with a warning.” He said writing an excuse note to go to class.

“WHAT?” Dashi screamed. “I ALMOST DIED BACK THERE—AND YOU GIVE HIM A WARNING?” She exclaimed.

“I’m sure you would be able to sort out your differences by yourself.”  He smiled as the doors opened back up to let them out.

“Off you go now.” Barrington said. Dashi storms out the door, trying to get to class, Kwazii gets up but hears something from Barrington.

You’re special, Kwazii. You just haven’t realized it yet. But trust me… others have. Be careful who you mess with. This can be easy… or it can be very, very difficult. It’s your choice.

Kwazii froze. His pulse hammered in his ears. That voice—was it real? Or was it just in his head?

He turned back to Barrington, who just smiled like nothing happened.

“No, I didn’t say anything,” Barrington said smoothly. “Now hurry to class before recess.”

Something felt off.

Ever since Kwazii left the principal’s office, he could feel it.

The school felt different now. It wasn’t just in his head. People were watching him. Everyone’s Acting Weird. Teachers kept looking at him longer than usual.

Hall monitors were always near his locker, like they were waiting for something.

Even students were whispering more than before. At first, Kwazii thought it was because of the fight. Maybe they were just scared of him.

But this wasn’t fear. It was something else. Like they were waiting for him to do something.
“Wow, look at you.”

Kwazii groaned. Dashi. She was leaning against his locker, smirking. “What do you want?” he muttered.

Dashi shrugged. “Nothing. Just… wondering how it felt.”

Kwazii frowned. “How what felt?”

She grinned. “Almost killing me.”His stomach dropped.

Dashi tilted her head. “You weren’t just mad back there. Something was different.” Kwazii’s hands curled into fists.

“You weren’t just fighting,” she said. “You were changing.” Kwazii’s heart pounded. What was she talking about?

She took a step closer. “Tell me… did it feel good?”His vision blurred red.

For a second, it felt like the whole hallway shook.

Then—BANG.

A stack of books fell off a desk nearby.No one touched them. Kwazii blinked. Dashi looked at the books, then at him. Her smirk grew wider. She didn’t say another word. Just walked away, humming to herself. Kwazii stood there, heart racing.

What the hell just happened?

Lights out.

The dorm was quiet, but it wasn’t really silent. The room was filled with soft breathing, the occasional cough, and whispers from kids who weren’t asleep yet.

Peso and Kwazii shared a bunk. Peso had the bottom, Kwazii was on the top. Kwazii wasn’t tired. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, fingers gripping his blanket. His heart was still racing from earlier.

“You’re acting weird.”

Kwazii flinched. Peso’s voice was quiet but firm.

Kwazii groaned. “Not you too.” Peso rolled onto his side. “What’s going on with you?”

Kwazii didn’t answer. Peso sighed. “You’re thinking about what Dashi said, aren’t you?” Kwazii tensed. He didn’t want to talk about it, but Peso already knew.

“I don’t know, man,” he muttered. “I just feel like… people are watching me.”

Peso let out a tired laugh. “Well, yeah. You almost strangled Dashi in front of everyone. Of course, they’re watching you.”

Kwazii laughed a little, but it felt forced.

Peso yawned. “Just… get some sleep, alright?”

Kwazii didn’t respond.He didn’t want to sleep.

Because if he did, he might dream about what happened.

And worse—he might wake up different.

Chapter Text

Gym was probably the easiest—and funniest thing at this sleepaway school. It was thrilling, easy and there was a less likely chance a teacher could yell at you. Dodgeball was one of Kwazii’s favorites. But one of Peso’s least favorites. He usually gets out first because he can’t dodge the ball, and is a easy target.

Peso sat on the bleachers, arms crossed, watching. He never played. He said it was pointless, that he didn’t get why Kwazii liked it so much, but he still enjoyed to cheer for Kwazii when he was winning—or losing. It didn’t matter.

“Come on, Peso!” Kwazii called, dodging left as a ball flew past him. He caught another in one hand and threw it without thinking. The kid on the other team didn’t even have time to react.

Out.

Peso shook his head. “I’d rather not get hit, besides I’m fine with sitting on the sides and cheering you on.” Peso shrugged. Going back to his ‘Moby Dick’ Book.

Kwazii smirked. “Your loss!”

Then, just as he turned back to the game, he saw her.

Dashi.

She stood on the opposite side of the court, dodgeball in hand, grinning. She wasn’t aiming for just anyone. She was aiming for him.

Kwazii barely had time to react before—

THWACK.

The ball slammed into his face.

Pain exploded through his nose as he stumbled back. His ears rang. The his vision blurred for a second. His head snapped back so hard it made his vision blurry.

Then, something warm dripped down his lip.At first, he thought it was sweat.

Then he looked down.

Blood.

A thick drop splattered onto the gym floor. His stomach twisted. Another drop followed. His sleeve was already stained red.

Peso stood up so fast his book fell on the floor. Making a loud noise which made a student shriek.

“Kwazii? Are you okay?”Kwazii wiped his wrist under his nose, but more blood smeared across his skin. It wasn’t stopping.

A few kids had noticed now. Some whispered. Some just stared. A few looked concerned.

Dashi just snorted. “Relax. It’s just a nosebleed.”

Kwazii furrowed his brows. She did that on purpose.

The gym teacher finally turned to look at him. His face was unreadable, uninterested. “Go to the nurse.”

That was it. No concern. No reaction. Like this wasn’t even worth paying attention to.

Peso took a step forward. “I’ll go with him—”

The teacher held up a hand. “He can handle it alone.”

Peso hesitated. His concerned expression became sad, but he didn’t argue. He just gave Kwazii a look, like he was trying to tell him something without speaking.

Kwazii didn’t know what it was, but the knot in his stomach got worse.

Blood dripped from his nose as he turned to the doorway.

The second he stepped inside, Kwazii knew something was off.

The room smelled too clean. Not like a normal nurse’s office. More like chemicals, sharp and artificial.

The lights were too bright. The walls were too white. The air too cold.

A few other kids sat in chairs along the wall. They weren’t talking. They weren’t fidgeting. They weren’t doing anything.

They just sat there. Still. Silent. Staring straight ahead.

The nurse looked up from her desk.

She smiled.
Too big. Too fake. Too forced.

“What happened, dear?” Her voice was sweet. Too sweet. The nurse had red hair, and her outfit was all white. Red lipstick was stained on his lips.

Kwazii pressed his sleeve harder against his nose. “I-I got him with a dodge ball..”

She didn’t blink. Didn’t react.She just stared.For too long.

Across from Kwazii, another student sat with his arm cradled against his chest. Maybe a sprain.The nurse walked over, still smiling. She handed him a small white pill. “Here you go, dear. Just take this, and you’ll feel better in no time.”

Kwazii watched as the boy hesitated. His fingers curled around the pill. He glanced at Kwazii for half a second—then sighed and popped it into his mouth.

At first, nothing happened.Then, his whole body tensed. His fingers twitched. His eyes glazed over.It lasted only a few seconds.

Then, he just sat back.

Expression blank.

Like nothing happened.

Kwazii’s stomach dropped. Something wasn’t right.
Definitely something was wrong, that wasn’t how people acted. It sorta scared him a bit.

Now It’s Kwazii’s Turn to take the—Mysterious white pill. It looked like toilet paper to him.

The nurse turned back to him.“Your turn,” she said, handing him a pill in a tiny cup.

Kwazii stared at it. His heartbeat pounded. “What is it?”

“Just something to help.” Her smile didn’t change.His gut screamed NO. Then—a whisper. “Don’t.” Kwazii turned.

The kid who had just taken the pill? He was staring at him now.His voice was low. Tense. “Don’t take it,” he muttered. “It messes with you.”

“It messes with your head.” Before Kwazii could ask what that meant—The nurse’s smile vanished. Her eyes snapped to the boy.

“Quiet,” she said. Sharp. Cold.The kid shrunk back. His fingers twitched like he wanted to say something else, but he didn’t.

.Kwazii’s hands clenched. His skin felt cold, even though the room was too warm.

Slowly, he set the cup down.

The nurse sighed. “Suit yourself.” She handed him a tissue.

“You’ll be fine.”But as Kwazii left, he didn’t feel fine. He felt watched. He felt like this wasn’t just a nosebleed.

Something was wrong. The nurse, smiled to widely. The principal: the same? This school wasn’t normal, it’s like they were trying to make it seem, perfect! Kwazii was right at the beginning.

They only want control and power.

There was something going on at this unsettling school. It was unstable, werid and unsafe.
The students, who would always rebel would sometimes even act differently when teachers were near.

Like they could see something he couldn’t. They didn’t even care about his nose bleed. Something is—wrong. Definitely.

Chapter Text

Drama Club? Seriously?

Kwazii slouched in his chair, tail flicking in irritation. Drama class. Of all things. He could be anywhere else right now—doing literally anything else—but no. Instead, he was stuck here, wasting time.

At the front of the room, the teacher stood with an unnerving grin. “Welcome, students! Today, we begin rehearsals for our school play—a performance about discipline, structure, and the importance of being a good student!”

Kwazii barely held back a groan. Yeah, that doesn’t sound suspicious at all.

Scripts were passed around, and he flipped through his absentmindedly—until he froze.

His role?

A housewife.

Not just any housewife—a perfectly obedient, apron-wearing, “Yes, dear” housewife.

He read over his lines, stomach twisting with every word.

“Dinner is ready, dear!”

“Yes, of course, anything you say.”

“A good partner always listens.”

Kwazii shoved the script at Peso. “Read this. Out loud.”

Peso frowned as he skimmed it. “‘Dinner is ready, dear!’ …‘Yes, of course, anything you say.’ …‘A good partner always listens’?” His expression soured. “Uh. That’s really weird.”

Kwazii shot his hand in the air. “Yeah, I’m not doing this.”

The teacher turned to him, still grinning. “Excuse me?”

Kwazii leaned back, tossing the script onto his desk. “Give me a different role. Director. President. A tree. Anything else.”

A few students giggled. Others sat frozen, staring.
The teacher’s eye twitched. “That role is perfect for you, Kwazii.”

“Oh yeah?” Kwazii crossed his arms. “Well, I don’t think so.”

Silence.

Heavy.

Uncomfortable.
Then—

“Guards,” the teacher said.
Peso barely had time to react before two massive guards grabbed Kwazii’s arms.

“HEY—!” Kwazii struggled, ears flat against his head.

Peso shot to his feet. “LET HIM GO!”

One of the guards shoved him back into his seat like he weighed nothing.

The teacher sighed, shaking her head. “You will play your role, Kwazii. That’s what good students do.”
Kwazii growled. “Oh, you are so lucky I don’t have my sword right now.”

The guards started dragging him toward the back of the stage.

Peso’s eyes darted around the room.

No one moved. No one even reacted.

Something about this felt very, very wrong.

Bright lights. A fake kitchen. A plastic stove. A wooden table with fake food.

And right next to it—a dress.

A teacher’s assistant shoved it into Kwazii’s arms. “Put it on.”

He threw it right back. “Not a chance.”

The guards stepped forward.

Kwazii gritted his teeth.

Fine.

He yanked the dress over his uniform. The fabric was stiff and uncomfortable, and he hated every second of it.

The curtain snapped open.
Rows and rows of students stared at him. Their faces were blank. Expressionless. Like they weren’t even there.

Except for one.

Peso.

He sat in the middle of the crowd, the only one who looked awake. His wide eyes met Kwazii’s, full of silent concern.

The play started.
A student playing the “husband” walked onto the stage.

His movements were stiff. Robotic.

“I’m home, dear.”

Kwazii’s stomach twisted.

His next line was written in the script.

“Dinner is ready, dear!”

Yeah.

Not happening.

He clamped his mouth shut.

The teacher, sitting in the front row, raised an eyebrow.

She tapped her pen against her clipboard.
The guards shifted.

Peso leaned forward in his seat, gripping the armrest.
Kwazii clenched his fists.

Fine.

His voice dripped with mockery. “Dinner is ready, dear.”
The audience nodded.

Like that was normal.

Like they believed it.

Kwazii wanted to throw up.

Kwazii stood at an ironing board, pressing a white dress shirt with a steaming iron.

The “husband” sat at the table, reading a newspaper like this was the most normal thing in the world.
Peso, from the crowd, was practically vibrating in his seat.

Kwazii’s jaw ached from clenching his teeth. The heat from the iron burned through the dress’s thin sleeves. His hands shook. His heartbeat pounded.
The script told him to fold the shirt neatly. To hand it over with a sweet, obedient smile.

Yeah. No.

Without thinking, he grabbed the iron—
And slammed it against the “husband’s” face.

A loud hiss.

A scream.

The audience gasped.
Peso shot to his feet. “OH MY GOD??—”

The teacher’s smile dropped.

“GET HIM!”

The guards rushed forward.

Kwazii yanked the iron away as the “husband” crumpled, clutching his burned face in agony.
Something snapped in the air.

A shift.

A crack.

The audience—previously silent and still—started blinking. Looking around. Some gasped. Some stumbled backward.

One girl screamed.

The brainwashing was breaking
.
The control was failing.

The teacher’s expression twisted into something ugly.

Peso bolted up the aisle. “KWAZII!”

The guards hesitated, glancing at the panicking students.

Peso grabbed Kwazii’s wrist. “RUN!”

They sprinted off the stage.

The teacher’s voice boomed behind them. “GET THEM BACK HERE!”

But it was too late.

Kwazii and Peso ran.

Their footsteps pounded against the floor as they shoved past students still waking up from whatever nightmare they had been trapped in.

Behind them, the teacher’s voice shrieked
.
“GET THEM BACK HERE!”

But it was too late.

The students weren’t listening anymore.
Some blinked in confusion.

Others turned to each other, fear settling in.

Then, it hit them.

And something snapped.

Someone screamed.

Then another.

Then the anger came.

Kwazii looked back just in time to see a student shove a teacher to the ground.

Another tore off their costume, shredding it like it was suffocating them.

The chaos was spreading
.
Peso grabbed Kwazii’s sleeve, forcing him to stop. “Where are we even going?”

Kwazii barely looked at him. “The principal’s office. We end this now.”

Peso’s eyes widened. “Kwazii, that’s—”
Before he could finish, the door behind them slammed open.

A flood of students filled the hallway.
They weren’t just escaping anymore.
They were fighting back.

Peso stared at the scene. “What… what did we just start?”

Kwazii didn’t answer.

Because standing in front of the principal’s office was Barrington.

He stood perfectly still, watching them
.
Calm. Smiling.

Like he still had control.

“Students,” Barrington said smoothly. “It’s so good to see you all so… energetic. But I believe it’s time to settle down.”

His eyes landed on Kwazii.

“You, especially.”

Kwazii’s fists clenched.

The way Barrington stood there, pretending everything was fine, acting like he still had control—
It made Kwazii’s blood boil.

Behind him, the students pushed forward, shouting, getting angrier.

Barrington tilted his head. “You don’t want to do this,” he said. “You’re confused. I can help you.”
Kwazii’s voice was low. “Shut up.”

Peso grabbed his wrist. “Kwazii…”

Kwazii stepped forward, eyes burning.

“You lied to us. You brainwashed us. You turned us into—into whatever the hell that was in there.”
Barrington sighed. “You act like this is something terrible.

I’ve only done what was necessary.”
The students behind Kwazii surged forward.
The principal didn’t move.

Peso swallowed. “He’s not scared,” he whispered. “Why isn’t he scared?”

Kwazii glared at him. “He should be.”

Then—

The first student lunged.

It happened fast.

Barrington barely had time to react before someone grabbed his jacket and yanked him back.
Another tackled him to the ground.

Barrington let out a choked yell, trying to shove them off, but more students piled on.

Grabbing. Pulling. Ripping.

His smile was gone.

His voice cracked. “Stop—students! I demand you—”

A hand clamped over his mouth.

Someone tore at his suit, fabric ripping apart.
Peso stumbled back.

“Kwazii… they’re—”

Kwazii didn’t stop them.
Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t care.

He watched as fear entered Barrington’s eyes for the first time.

The same fear they had felt under his control.
He deserved this.

They weren’t his students anymore.

They were his reckoning.

Barrington screamed.

Kwazii didn’t know how long it lasted.
Didn’t know how long the screaming went on.

But when the noise finally died down, the students stepped back.

Breathing hard. Shaking.
Some covered in blood.
Barrington was gone.

Not a body. Not a trace.

Just scraps of clothing, torn papers, and shattered glasses on the floor
.
Peso was frozen.

“They… they actually did it,” he whispered.
Kwazii’s hands were shaking
.
His chest felt tight.

He looked at the students—some still furious, others realizing what they had done.

Then, he looked at Peso
.
Peso looked at him.

“We need to leave.”

No one argued.

The students turned away. Some ran. Some stumbled. Some just stood there, staring at the mess.
Kwazii grabbed Peso’s wrist
.
“Come on.”

And they ran.

Chapter Text

Got it! I’ve simplified the first paragraph even more and removed the word abandoned. Here’s the final version:

⸻

The air was hot and heavy. It stuck to their skin, thick with sweat and dirt.

Kwazii crouched down, shoving dirt over the shallow grave. His hands hurt, the shovel’s wooden handle digging into his palms. Peso stood next to him, arms wrapped around himself, eyes darting around like someone was watching.

Barrington was gone.

Not just dead—buried.

It had to be done.

But even now, as Kwazii patted the last bit of dirt down, his stomach twisted.

Peso exhaled shakily. “This doesn’t feel real.”

Kwazii swallowed. “It is.”

They stood there, staring at the uneven mound of dirt. It didn’t feel like enough.

Barrington deserved worse.

Kwazii shouldn’t have felt guilty.

But…

He did.

Peso sniffled, rubbing his nose. “What happens now?”

Kwazii had no idea. But he wasn’t gonna say that. Instead, he slung the shovel over his shoulder and forced a smirk.

“We don’t get caught.”

Peso didn’t laugh.

Neither did Kwazii.

By the time they got to the classrooms, Ryla was already there, arms crossed, foot tapping.

“Took you long enough,” she muttered.

Kwazii grinned. “Missed us?”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it.

Peso shoved his hands into his pockets. “We, um… took care of it.”

Ryla didn’t react, just nodded. “Good.”

No one said Barrington’s name.

No one had to.

They sat there for a while, letting the silence settle. The weight of what they had done was finally starting to lift.

And then, Kwazii ruined it.

“You guys ever think about how weird puberty is?”

Peso flinched.

Ryla turned to him, deadpan. “What.”

Kwazii stretched. “Like—okay. One day, you’re just a normal kid, right? And then BOOM—your voice starts cracking, your face explodes, and suddenly you’re growing hair in the weirdest places.”

Peso groaned into his hands. “Please stop talking.”

Kwazii kept going. “Like, why do we even need leg hair? What’s it for? Is it, like, a temperature thing? Or does it have some secret purpose?”

Ryla groaned. “I am not doing this right now.”

Kwazii ignored her. “And another thing—why does voice cracking make you sound like a dying bird? Wouldn’t it make more sense if it just gradually got deeper instead of—”

“KWAZII.”

Peso looked seconds away from passing out.

Ryla was already on her feet. “I’m leaving.”

Kwazii gasped. “You don’t wanna talk about BOY STUFF?”

“No.” She didn’t even look at him. “I don’t.”

Peso stood up instantly. “I don’t either.”

Kwazii scoffed. “You guys are so BORING.”

Ryla shot him a glare. “Go touch grass, Kwazii.”

Then, just like that, they were gone.

Kwazii sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Somehow, he was alone again.

————

Kwazii hated his uniform. It was stiff, boring, and suffocating.

So he changed it.

He dyed it orange, stitched in little bows, embroidered tiny patterns into the sleeves. It was still the same uniform—just his version of it.

The teachers hated it.

Every time he stepped into class, someone was there to rip his changes apart. To scrub the dye out, to strip the bows off, to remind him he was wrong for wanting to be himself.

But he refused to stop.

Peso sat on his bed, watching as Kwazii ran his fingers over the fabric, lost in thought.

“You know they’re just gonna take it away again,” Peso mumbled.

Kwazii smirked. “Let ‘em try.”

Peso sighed, looking down at his book. He never argued with him about it. But he never said anything supportive either.

Kwazii didn’t blame him.

Peso didn’t like getting involved in things that made him stand out.

Kwazii?

He was born to stand out.

Everything at Ocean Academy had changed since The Drama Club Incident. The students weren’t fully brainwashed anymore. They were waking up, questioning things.

The whispers had changed from rehearsed obedience to uneasy confusion.

But the staring never stopped.

In fact, it had gotten worse.

Kwazii could feel it before he even stepped into the cafeteria. The weight of it. The way it pressed down on his skin, sharp and dissecting.

Peso shuffled beside him, eyes darting to the side. “Why is everyone looking at you?” he mumbled.
Kwazii didn’t answer.

He grabbed a tray and moved through the lunch line, ignoring the food, ignoring the whispers.

Until he couldn’t ignore them anymore.
A loud voice crackled over the cafeteria speakers.

“Attention, students. The administration has introduced new gender presentation guidelines to maintain order and tradition at Ocean Academy. All students are required to dress according to their assigned uniform standards.”

Kwazii stopped mid-step.

“The dress code will be strictly enforced. Boys must wear neatly pressed blue uniforms, with shirts tucked in at all times. No modifications allowed. Girls must wear the designated dresses with skirts at knee-length. Failure to comply will result in disciplinary action.”

Kwazii felt his stomach drop.

It wasn’t just about uniforms.

It was about control.

About shoving everyone into a mold they didn’t fit in.
He didn’t even have time to react before someone behind him snickered.

“Heard that, freak?”

Kwazii’s hands tightened around his tray.
A group of boys sat at the nearest table, grinning at him like wolves.

“I guess that means you’ll finally have to stop dressing like a girl.”

One of them tilted his head mockingly. “Or are you gonna start wearing a skirt now?”

The others laughed, shoving each other.
Peso stiffened next to him, gripping his own tray so hard his knuckles turned white. He opened his mouth, but—nothing came out.

Kwazii didn’t look at them. He kept his expression blank, unreadable.

But inside, he felt like his skin was on fire.
The boys weren’t the only ones whispering now.
The entire cafeteria seemed to be watching, listening, waiting.

Like this was entertainment.

Then—the girls started talking.

“He’s kind of pretty, isn’t he?”

Kwazii froze.

The voices came from a nearby table, light, playful, dripping with amusement.

“Yeah, but like… not in a normal way.”

“I mean, he wears eyeliner.” A giggle. “It’s kinda hot, right?”

Kwazii’s stomach lurched. His fingers curled around his tray, knuckles white.

Peso lowered his head. He wanted to say something—but he didn’t.

“Do you think he’s doing it for attention?”

“No, I think he actually likes dressing like that.”

“But it’s kinda cute.”

“Kinda feminine, though.”

“I think it’s hot.”

Kwazii’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt. His heart pounded.

He had been through worse, right?

Name-calling, bullying, actual fights.

So why did this make him feel just as sick?

Why did he feel stripped bare, put under a spotlight, reduced to nothing but a joke?

Kwazii sat down, trying to drown it out. Trying to push the words away. Peso sat next to him, stiff and quiet.
The whispering didn’t stop.

And then—one of them walked over.
Kwazii didn’t move as she stepped up beside him, standing too close, smiling too much.

“Hey, Kwazii,” she said sweetly.
He didn’t answer.

She reached down and twirled the edge of his sleeve between her fingers.

“I love what you’ve done to your uniform,” she purred, running her fingers over the embroidery. “It’s so… unique.”

Kwazii’s entire body tensed.

Peso’s chair scraped slightly, but he didn’t stand up. His voice barely came out.

“D-Don’t touch him…”

The girl ignored him.

Kwazii felt his stomach twist.

The feeling of her hands on his clothes, touching the things he had made, changed, fixed to feel more like himself—

It was wrong.

It was like she was claiming him, playing with him, treating him like something to be studied.
Peso lowered his head.

He should have done more.
Kwazii snapped.

He ripped his arm away so fast she stumbled back.
“I’m not some doll for you to play with.”

Her smile faltered. “Geez, chill. It was just a compliment.”

Kwazii stood up, pushing his chair back violently.
The cafeteria went silent.

The girl blinked, completely unbothered.
Peso shrunk down, gripping his tray, unsure if he should stop him.

“It wasn’t a compliment,” Kwazii hissed. “You don’t actually respect me. You don’t see me as a person. You just want something to look at.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “Oh my god, it’s not that deep.”

Kwazii’s hands shook.

It was that deep.

It was deep enough to burn.

His voice came out lower, more dangerous.

“You think I don’t know what this is?”
The girl didn’t answer.

“You think I don’t notice the way you all stare at me?” His voice rose, filled with something raw, something too big to keep down.

Peso’s eyes widened. “Kwazii—”
Kwazii’s breath hitched. His head spun.
He looked around and realized—everyone was watching.

Some with interest. Some with amusement. Some with that same sick curiosity.
But no one understood.

They never would.

Kwazii suddenly felt very, very tired.
Peso hesitated. Then, finally, he stood up.

“Let’s go,” he whispered.

And as they walked out of the cafeteria, the rules didn’t matter.

The stares didn’t matter.

Kwazii was already suffocating.

Chapter Text

Kwazii had always been an outcast, but after Barrington’s death, it felt different.

People had always stared, whispered, kept their distance. But now? The stares lasted longer. The whispers weren’t just gossip anymore—they were calculated.

Intentional.

People were watching him.

Like they were waiting for him to snap.
He felt it in class. Felt it walking through the halls. Felt it in the cafeteria, where students would glance at him and quickly look away, pretending they hadn’t just been whispering about him.

So when a group of popular kids—Dashi’s old friends—suddenly started being nice to him, he didn’t know what to think.

It started small. A smile in the hallway. A casual, “Hey, Kwazii, nice uniform,” like they hadn’t mocked him for it before. Then, they invited him to sit with them at lunch.

Peso and Ryla immediately hated it.
“You seriously don’t think this is weird?” Ryla had asked, arms crossed.

Kwazii had shrugged it off.
“Maybe people are finally realizing how amazing I am,” he’d joked.

Peso had frowned, unconvinced.

Maybe he should have listened.The cafeteria was buzzing, voices overlapping as students gossiped, laughed, and fought over whatever unidentifiable meal was being served.

Kwazii sat with his new “friends,” trying to enjoy the rare feeling of belonging.

Then, he heard it.

Not in front of him. Behind him.
And they weren’t even bothering to whisper.

“I can’t believe he actually thinks we’re friends.”
“Bet we can get him to tell us what happened to Barrington.”

“Once we get what we need, we’ll drop him like everyone else.”

The words hit him like a brick to the chest.
For a moment, it felt like the whole cafeteria had gone silent. The voices around him faded into static. The air suddenly felt too thick, too heavy.

Kwazii stared at his tray, hands clenched into fists.
The food looked disgusting now.

Heat burned under his skin, crawling up his neck and settling in his chest. His fingers twitched, itching to swing, to throw something, to make them shut up.
Instead, he stood. Chair scraping against the floor, loud enough to startle the table.

No one tried to stop him.

He didn’t look back.

Didn’t give them the satisfaction.

He stormed out of the cafeteria, shoving past people without a word.

And then, he bumped into someone.

She was sitting alone, hunched over her tray, stirring her food without eating.

Her uniform wasn’t like the others. The alterations were small, subtle. Tiny embroidered stars at the hem, the seams slightly reshaped.

Enough to be different.

Enough to be like him.

She looked up at him. “I saw what happened.”

Kwazii frowned. “And?”

She shrugged, pushing a green bean around with her fork.

“Welcome to the club.”

For a second, he didn’t know what to say. He glanced back at the cafeteria doors, fists still clenched.
Then he sat down.

Her name was Pearl.

She was blunt, observant, and didn’t waste time with fake politeness.

“I knew they were using you,” she said, resting her chin on her palm. “Figured you’d figure it out eventually.”

Kwazii raised a brow. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

Pearl smirked. “Would you have believed me?”

…Fair point.

They talked.

Pearl didn’t act like she pitied him. She didn’t say, “I told you so,” or try to convince him that those people weren’t worth his time.

She just understood.

And that was worse.

Because it meant she’d been through it, too.Then, they noticed someone else.

Tweak.

She sat two tables away, shoulders hunched, tray barely touched.

She kept glancing at Dashi.

Not like a friend would. Not like someone waiting for a conversation.

Like she was waiting for permission.
Kwazii frowned.

Pearl followed his gaze. “She’s like us.”

Kwazii tilted his head. “How do you know?”

Pearl nudged his tray with her fork. “Same reason I knew about you.”

Tweak’s uniform wasn’t fully modified, but there were little signs. Tiny custom stitches. The kind someone would make when they wanted to change something, but were too scared to go all the way.

And then there was Dashi.

She wasn’t eating.

She was watching.

Her sharp eyes flicked toward Tweak’s tray every few seconds.

Something wasn’t right.

Kwazii felt that bad, uneasy feeling settle in his stomach.

He needed to talk to Tweak.
But how?

He needed a distraction.

His lips curled into a smirk. “Hey, Pearl—ever started a food fight?”

Pearl blinked. “No?”

Kwazii grabbed his tray, lifted his mashed potatoes—and threw them across the room
.
The glob of potatoes hit some random kid in the face.
Silence.

Then—chaos.

Kwazii used the distraction to slip away
.
Tweak and Dashi were already leaving.

He followed them.

He didn’t know why, but something in his gut told him he needed to. But then he’d realized that he’d have to go into the Women’s room.

Yikes—not the best idea.

Chapter Text

Kwazii slipped out of the cafeteria, heart still racing from the food fight.

The hallway was quieter, but his head wasn’t.

He didn’t even know why he was doing this.

Following Dashi and Tweak? What was he expecting to happen?

But something about the way Tweak had barely touched her food, the way she kept looking at Dashi like she was waiting for permission—

It didn’t sit right.

So he followed.

The two girls turned the corner, heading toward the bathrooms. Kwazii hesitated, stopping just before the entrance.

He knew he shouldn’t be here. If he got caught, he’d have zero excuse for why he was standing outside the girls’ bathroom like a creep.

He took a step back. Maybe this was a bad idea.

Then, he heard it.

A muffled, choking sound.

Gagging.

And then, a voice.

Dashi’s.

But she wasn’t stopping Tweak.

She was encouraging her.

“You ate too much again.”

“You know how bad that looks, right?”

“You don’t want people talking about you, do you?”

Kwazii’s stomach twisted.

He pressed himself against the wall, clenching his jaw so hard it hurt.

Dashi’s voice was soft, sweet.

Like she was being helpful.

“It’s better this way. You’ll feel lighter. Prettier.”

“You want to be perfect, right?”

“I’m the only one who understands.”

His hands curled into fists.

He wanted to kick the door down. Grab Tweak and drag her out of there. Tell her she didn’t have to listen to Dashi, that she wasn’t alone, that she didn’t have to do this.

But that would make it worse.

Tweak would panic.

Dashi would win.

So instead—he waited.

A few minutes passed before the door finally swung open.

Kwazii ducked into the shadows of a classroom as Dashi stepped out first, looking satisfied.

She adjusted her hair in the mirror across the hall, smirking at her own reflection. Then, without looking back, she strutted off down the hallway, leaving Tweak behind.

Kwazii watched her go, stomach churning.

She acted like nothing had even happened.

Like Tweak wasn’t still in there, shaking, sick, alone.

When Dashi was finally out of sight, Kwazii stepped forward.

The bathroom door was still open.

He took a breath, then walked inside.

Tweak was still hunched over the sink, hands shaking.

She flinched at his reflection in the mirror.

Her face was pale. Her eyes were red. She looked exhausted.

“I won’t tell,” Kwazii said quickly, holding up his hands.

Tweak didn’t answer.

She just stared at the sink, like she wasn’t really there.

Kwazii hesitated, then leaned against the wall, sliding down to sit on the gross bathroom floor.

“I used to do this too, y’know.”

Tweak finally looked at him.

His heart pounded. He hadn’t planned on saying that.

But now that it was out, he kept going.

“Back when… everything happened.” He swallowed. “It wasn’t food for me, though. I just—stopped eating altogether. Didn’t see the point.”

Tweak blinked.

Then, slowly, she sat down too.

For a long time, they just sat there.

Kwazii didn’t push her to talk. He didn’t tell her she needed help. He didn’t say anything, really.

He just stayed.

And eventually—Tweak let out a shaky breath.

“…I hate this.”

Kwazii nodded. “I know.”

Another pause.

Then, barely above a whisper—

“I don’t know how to stop.”

Kwazii frowned, staring at the floor.

He didn’t have an answer.

But maybe he didn’t need to.

“Then don’t do it alone.”

Tweak stared at him.

For the first time that day—she actually looked like she was listening.

And for now, that was enough.

By the time Kwazii and Tweak stepped out of the bathroom, the food fight had escalated into absolute chaos.

He should’ve expected that.

Food was flying everywhere.

Peso, who had been minding his own business, got smacked with an apple slice.

Ryla—who had been completely uninvolved—stood up, locked eyes with Kwazii across the room, and immediately started throwing food too.

Pearl burst out laughing and flung a handful of peas into the air.

It didn’t take long before everyone joined in.

But within minutes, teachers were storming into the cafeteria, shouting for order.

Kwazii barely had time to react before Ryla yanked him down under a table, dragging Peso and Pearl with them.

Kwazii was still grinning, heart racing from the excitement. Peso, on the other hand, looked horrified.

Pearl crouched beside them, still holding an entire meatloaf.

Ryla stared at her. “Put that down.”

Pearl blinked. “Why?”

“Because we are HIDING,” Ryla whisper-yelled. “And you are holding a weapon of mass destruction.”

Pearl shrugged and slowly placed the meatloaf on the floor.

Kwazii snorted. Peso buried his face in his hands.

It was over within seconds.

A hand grabbed the back of Kwazii’s uniform, yanking him up. A teacher glared down at him, covered in spaghetti.

“You four. Detention. Now.”

Pearl sighed with a smirk. Looking at her friends “worth it.”

Chapter Text

⸻

The air felt wrong.

Not cold, not hot—just off. Too still, like it was waiting.

Kwazii sat in the chair across from the principal’s desk, arms crossed, jaw clenched. Peso, Pearl, and Ryla had already been sent to detention. But not him.

Barnacles wanted to talk to him first.

He sat behind his desk, fingers laced together, smiling. But his eyes didn’t match.

Kwazii stared back. Didn’t blink. Didn’t look away.

He wasn’t scared of him.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

Barnacles tilted his head. “You’re quite the troublemaker, aren’t you?”

Kwazii didn’t answer.

Barnacles chuckled. “Just like my father said.” He leaned forward. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Kwazii.”

Kwazii rolled his eyes. “Lemme guess—‘loud, obnoxious, doesn’t follow rules.’”

Barnacles smirked. “Something like that.”

Silence.

Kwazii shifted.

The way Barnacles looked at him—too focused, too interested—made his skin crawl.

His fingers tapped against the desk. Slow. Steady.

“You’re different,” he murmured. “I can see it.”

Kwazii’s stomach twisted.

He didn’t like that.

Didn’t like being seen.

Barnacles leaned in slightly. “You remind me of my father when he was younger.”

Kwazii frowned. “I thought you hated your dad.”

Barnacles chuckled. “Oh, I did.” He smiled. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate his… influence.”

The way he said it—too smooth, too calm—made Kwazii’s skin crawl.

He didn’t know what Barnacles wanted.

But he knew he didn’t want to be here.

Kwazii scowled. “Can I go now?”

Barnacles hummed, like he was thinking.

Then, slowly, he stood.

Kwazii tensed.

Barnacles walked around the desk, moving toward him.

Slow. Calm.

Kwazii didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch.

Barnacles stopped beside him.

Too close.

Then, he leaned down, just slightly.

And whispered, voice low and cold—

“You belong to me now.”

Kwazii’s blood ran cold.

Before he could react—before he could even think—two staff members grabbed him from behind.

He yelled, thrashing, but their grip was like iron.

Barnacles straightened, watching as they dragged him toward the door.

“Take him to detention,” he said.

Kwazii roared, kicking, fighting. “You creepy, manipulative, power-hungry—”

The door slammed shut.

Barnacles just smiled.

⸻

Got it! I’ve simplified the wording, made it match your style, and formatted it into proper paragraphs for easier reading. Here’s the final version:

⸻

The room felt wrong.

Peso sat at his desk, barely keeping his head up. His limbs felt heavy, his eyelids drooping. Across from him, Pearl was tapping her pencil against the desk, slow and tired. Ryla looked even worse, arms crossed, chin resting on her chest like she was seconds from passing out.

It wasn’t just exhaustion.

Something was off.

The air was thick, distant, like the whole room was sinking underwater.

The detention teacher stood at the front, watching. Always watching.

Peso tried to shake the feeling, tried to keep himself awake. But it was getting harder.

Then—

The door slammed open.

Kwazii was dragged inside, screaming.

Two staff members had him by the arms, dragging him in as he thrashed and kicked like hell.

“LET ME GO!” Kwazii roared, yanking against their grip. “I’LL RIP YOUR THROATS OUT, I SWEAR!”

Peso jerked up so fast his chair nearly tipped.

Pearl flinched. “What the hell—”

Ryla blinked groggily. “Is he… foaming at the mouth?”

Kwazii fought like an animal. His pupils were blown wide, wild and unfocused.

It was like he knew.

Like he knew what was coming.

The staff shoved him into a chair. He kicked, tried to rip himself free—until the straps tightened around his wrists.

He was trapped.

Panting. Chest rising and falling too fast.

Peso’s stomach twisted.

This wasn’t normal detention.

Something was really wrong.

Then—

CRACK.

The ruler slammed against his desk.

Kwazii flinched.

The detention teacher loomed over him.

Expressionless. Hollow.

“Shut up.”

Kwazii bared his teeth. He wasn’t screaming anymore.

But his eyes?

They burned.

Peso couldn’t look away.

Because, for the first time since he’d met Kwazii—

He looked afraid.

Then—

The nurses walked in.

A metal cart rolled into the room.

Rows of identical syringes, lined up neatly on a silver tray.

Peso’s breath hitched.

Pearl sat up straighter. “What the hell is that?”

Ryla muttered, “Nothing good.”

Kwazii pulled at the restraints, violently. His breath was ragged, his fingers clawing at the desk.

The nurses moved fast. No words. No hesitation.

They stepped to the first row of students.

One by one, they pricked each kid’s arm.

Peso expected them to react. To flinch. To pull away.

They didn’t.

They just sat perfectly still.

Until—

Their heads snapped up.

Their backs straightened.

And then—

They smiled.

Too wide. Too stiff. Too fake.

Peso’s stomach churned.

The first student just… sat there, grinning. Staring forward, body rigid, eyes empty.

Then the next student.

And the next.

Each one jerked upright, heads tilting at the same unnatural angle—like puppets on strings.

And they all smiled.

Identical. Lifeless.

Peso gripped the edge of his desk, heartbeat hammering.

This isn’t real. This isn’t happening.

But it was.

He could feel it in the air—something thick and suffocating, pressing against his chest.

The nurses kept moving.

Row by row.

Closer.

Closer.

Peso forced himself to look at Kwazii.

He was still fighting the restraints. His breathing was sharp, fast. His fingers curled, nails digging into his palms.

He wasn’t smiling.

He wasn’t falling in line like the others.

He knew.

And he was terrified.

Peso had never seen Kwazii afraid before.

It made his own fear so much worse.

Then—

It was Peso’s turn.

A nurse grabbed his wrist.

His throat closed.

“Wait—”

The needle sank into his skin.

Peso let out a sharp breath—then, suddenly, everything slowed.

Something cold crawled through his veins.

His limbs twitched.

Then went still.

His back straightened against his will.

His lips curled upward.

No.

It wasn’t his smile.

It wasn’t him.

His body felt light. Weightless. Like he was being pulled up from the inside out, strung up like a puppet.

He could still think. Still see. Still hear.

But he couldn’t move.

His face hurt. His jaw stretched too wide. His head felt foggy.

He turned toward Kwazii.

Smiling.

And Kwazii’s eyes burned with horror.

Peso couldn’t warn him.

Couldn’t say a single word.

Because the next needle was already pressing into Kwazii’s arm.

The room cracked.

Kwazii gasped.

At first, nothing happened.

Then—everything happened.

Ice shot through his bloodstream, sinking into his bones.

His thoughts buzzed. Scrambled. Collapsed.

His back snapped straight.

His lips curled upward.

No. No, no, NO—

It was wrong.

His hands trembled against the desk. His body was still, but inside, he was burning.

Something was fighting.

Something deep inside him.

Something screaming.

He wanted to claw at his face, rip the expression off.

He wanted to run. Kick. Punch. Tear this whole place apart.

But his body wouldn’t move.

He could only sit there.

Smiling.

Something cracked.

The air shifted.

The lights flickered.

The walls seemed to tremble.

Kwazii’s eyes snapped to Peso’s.

Peso’s smile twitched.

His fingers twitched.

Something was wrong.

Not wrong like before.

Wrong like—breaking.

Peso’s chair scraped against the floor.

A pencil rolled off a desk.

A water glass tipped over.

Pearl’s hand jerked suddenly, breaking from its frozen position.

Her breath hitched. “What—?”

Then—

The door creaked open.

Barnacles walked in.

Peso inhaled sharply.

Kwazii’s fingers twitched again. His vision blurred.

Barnacles stood still. His eyes were sharp. Blank.

He didn’t say anything.

Didn’t look at the teacher.

Didn’t look at the nurses.

Didn’t look at them.

He just stood there.

Then—

He turned.

And walked out.

The teacher followed.

The nurses followed.

One by one, every staff member just… left.

The door stayed wide open.

Pearl stared. “Are we… free to go?”

No one answered.

Kwazii took a slow, shaky breath.
He didn’t know what just happened.

Didn’t know how he did it.
But something inside him had let them go.
And it was still there.

Waiting.

Without speaking—

They left.

Chapter Text

Mb mb sorry gay people