Chapter Text
You’re not exactly sure when you first realised that the world you’re living in is fictional, but there were certainly plenty of signs that led you to this conclusion:
Firstly, you’ve started to notice that everyone seems to be reading off of a script – and nobody ever veers from the script.
“Bye Grandma, thanks for dropping me off,” you cheerfully say, waving to your ever-smiling grandmother in the car.
“Be sure to take your heart medication on time, my dear,” she replies, “and have a lovely day at school!”
As she drives off, you wonder if she will ever say anything other than that same one line to you. It was fine at first, but one time, you’d asked if she had any plans for the rest of the day and she had simply ignored you, responding with that same saccharine reminder to take your medication and have a lovely day at school. That odd interaction left you awfully suspicious. From then on, you began to pay close attention to what everyone had to say – which is what made you realise in the first place that seemingly every person in this world was reading off of this strange script.
Secondly, you’ve noticed that occasionally, you are not exempt from this script.
As you walk towards the school gates, you spot your childhood friend, Caleb, leaning against a pillar. Suddenly, you feel as if you are no longer in control of your own body. As if moved by some higher force, you walk a little faster towards him.
“Caleb!”
He brightens up immediately upon seeing you, pushing off the concrete to come greet you.
“Mornin’, Pipsqueak,” he says, ruffling your hair. “Did you sleep okay?”
In an attempt to hide your flushed face, you turn away from Caleb, with the excuse of having to fix your bangs. “Sort of. I needed to finish my English assignment so I stayed up a little. But I’m not too tired, I think-”
As if on cue, your stomach lets out the loudest, most embarrassing gurgle. Caleb laughs as your blush deepens in colour.
“If you’re not tired, you’re hungry,” he playfully chides, “Will you ever learn how to take care of your own needs? Or do you need me to be here to do that for you?”
He digs around in his bag to hand you a shiny red apple. “Take this. I had a feeling you skipped breakfast today.”
“How’d you guess?” You take a bite of the apple, feeling the juice trickle down your chin. Almost as if he’d predicted this would happen, Caleb swipes it away with his thumb before it even has a chance to drip onto your uniform.
As he casually licks the juice off of his thumb, he gives you a charming grin, unaware that his actions have made your heart skip a beat. “I knew you had an English assignment due today, so you would’ve stayed up to finish it. Which means you would’ve slept in this morning… which also means that you would’ve skipped breakfast to make it to school on time. I just know you, Pipsqueak. You’re so predictable.”
“Nobody knows me like you do, Caleb,” you wistfully say, continuing to eat your apple as the two of you begin to head to class. He’s one year older than you so his classroom is upstairs, but he always makes sure to walk you to your classroom door anyway.
“How’s your heart?” he asks, and you quickly glance at the heart monitor strapped to your left wrist.
98 beats per minute, it reads, and you give him a thumbs up. “All good.”
Just before Caleb’s able to speak, you beat him right to it. “I know to take my medication right before lunchtime, so you don’t have to nag me about it.”
Caleb narrows his eyes and lightly flicks your forehead. You pretend to wince just to play along.
“I nag because I care, Pipsqueak,” he says, heading towards the stairwell, “You’ll thank me for it one day!”
Rolling your eyes, you fight to keep the smile off of your face as you watch him leave. But as he turns the corner and disappears from your sight, it feels as if the mysterious force guiding your words and actions has suddenly let go of you. The smile instantly drops from your face as you sag against the door frame, feeling much like a marionette whose strings were jarringly cut. You suddenly feel in control of yourself again.
You blink, disoriented, accidentally losing your grip on the half-eaten apple in a moment of weakness. You guess this is where the scene ends, and with no more lines in the script to be read, you’re now granted free will. That is, until the next scene appears.
Feeling a cold shudder run through your spine, you dread the next time you’ll be dragged into another scene. You don’t think you will ever be able to get used to this bizarre feeling of being a bystander in your own body. It feels almost violating to be so powerless.
Resigned, you chase after the apple that had rolled a couple steps away from you, only to stop when a pair of pristine black shoes comes into view. A hand reaches for the apple before you do, gently placing it into your own.
Startled, you look up to thank this kind stranger, and you’re met with a pair of cold, impassive eyes. His gaze is strangely heavy, despite the fact that you’re pretty sure you’ve never met this guy in your entire life. He’s in uniform, but you find it hard to believe that he’s a student in this school. How is it that you’ve never encountered him before, not even in passing?
All of a sudden, you feel an intense, all-encompassing pain burst from within your chest.
You fall to the floor, gasping, the pain radiating all through your torso and forcing you to curl up into a ball. This is the first time you’ve ever felt your chest hurt like this, and it absolutely scares you. Are you having a heart attack right now? Is this what it feels like to die? Your heart monitor is going completely out of control, beeping insistently as you clutch at your chest, apple tossed away and long forgotten.
You feel a pair of arms lift you from the ground, but you’re much too preoccupied to notice who they belong to – although you think you detect a hint of jasmine in their scent. You just know that you’re in pain, and you want it to end now, now, now.
Whimpering, you cry into the chest of your saviour, the tips of your fingers numb and tingling. “P…Please help me,” you manage to whisper amidst your misery, taking one last desperate breath of air before your vision mercifully fades to black.
---
When you wake, it takes you a good minute to realise that you’re lying in a bed at the school infirmary. Groaning, you struggle to sit up, feeling a phantom ache in your chest. It doesn’t hurt anymore, but you’re still suffering from the after effects of the attack. You feel fine, but you’re still terribly confused about whatever had happened earlier.
You check your heart monitor, and it reads 98 beats per minute. What on Earth was that back there? What could’ve possibly caused that attack? Was it because you didn’t get enough sleep last night? And who was that guy that handed you the apple? Was he the one who’d brought you into the infirmary?
Whoever brought you here didn’t stay to see you wake up, but you see that a chair had been pulled over to your bedside, with tell-tale indents in its plush cushions indicating that at least somebody had been watching over you while you were unconscious.
Deep in thought, you fail to notice the infirmary door open. You do, however, notice that you’re being pulled into yet another scene when you suddenly feel yourself being forced to lie back down in the infirmary bed.
“Pipsqueak, are you okay? I heard you collapsed before class began,” Caleb panics, rushing towards your side. He grasps your hand between his two palms, eyebrows furrowed and lips pulled into a worried frown. “I only found out during recess when you weren’t in your classroom. How are you feeling now?”
Weakly, you squeeze his hands. “I’m okay. I’m sorry for always worrying you, Caleb.”
Tucking a stray hair behind your ear, Caleb shakes his head. “Never apologise for worrying me, Pipsqueak. That’s something that is always going to happen, whether you like it or not. I’ll always be worrying about you.”
Turning away in shame, you push away his hands to hide completely under the blanket.
“I hate that,” you sob, “I hate that I’ll always be a burden to you. I wish you would stop caring about me so you can live your own life for once.”
“Pipsqueak,” Caleb murmurs, and his voice sounds completely wrecked. “That’s not what I meant. You could never be a burden to me, okay? Don’t you ever dare think that ever again.”
You feel a warmth enveloping you over the blanket, and you weep quietly, equal parts embarrassed and frustrated. Caleb tugs the blanket down to reveal your swollen eyes, and he leans in to press a kiss onto your forehead.
“Hey, don’t cry,” he coos, wiping away the tears from your cheeks, “I only worry about you because you’re important to me, okay? Promise me you’ll never see yourself as a burden.”
Looking up from beneath your wet eyelashes, you reach out to entwine both of your pinky fingers together. “I promise.”
And just like that, the scene ends.
“God, that’s corny,” you can’t help but mutter, scrubbing the stray tears from your face, “Who the hell is even writing this script? It’s so bad.”
Caleb stares at you as if you’d grown a second head. “Script? Pipsqueak, what are you talking about?”
Surely Caleb has noticed that he’s being pulled into scenes every now and then? You peer up at him, examining his clueless face. No, he seems to be blissfully unaware that he’s in a fictional world, and you don’t really have the heart to break it to him. Learning that you’re at the whim of some mysterious writer isn’t really something you think he needs to know, anyway.
You sigh and shake your head, pushing Caleb away as you swing your legs over the edge of the infirmary bed. You still feel a little dizzy, but you refuse to continue to be the helpless invalid that this script is forcing you to be. He tries to help you out of the bed but you politely decline, getting onto your feet independently and stubbornly. As you straighten up your uniform, you miss the way that Caleb’s ignored, outstretched hand twitches.
Looking at the infirmary wall clock, you conclude that you’ve only missed your first two classes for the day, as well as most of recess. You can still make it to English to hand in your assignment if you leave now.
“Are you sure you’re feeling well enough to go to class? I can call your grandma to pick you up from school if you’d like,” Caleb says, his concerned eyes flitting about your face.
Smiling, you shake your head once more. “That may not have been my words, but I meant what I said earlier, Caleb. I really don’t need you to worry about me like this. I’m okay, I promise! That was just some freak incident earlier and I don’t think it’ll happen again. Thanks, but you don’t have to keep checking up on me, really.”
With that, you pat Caleb on the shoulder and leave the infirmary. You worked your ass off on this assignment, and you’re definitely not going to have it all go to waste by not showing up to class.
Just as you head into the corridor, however, you find yourself holding a tray of food at the cafeteria instead.
What? Why are you here? You look towards the cafeteria wall clock, and you’re stunned to see that it’s now lunchtime, which means that you’ve missed your previous two classes. But what about your English assignment?!
You internally groan when a familiar feeling creeps over your skin, snatching your control away once more.
Searching the cafeteria, you spot Caleb with his friends at a table. You want to sit with him, but something about the way he’s happily chatting with his classmates that are all older than you makes you feel like you don’t want to intrude, and so you shy away.
But just as you turn around, you find yourself tripping over a foot that’s been stuck out deliberately to humiliate you – and when you fall, boy, do you fall spectacularly.
Losing your balance, you fling your tray of lunch into the air, sprawling across the ground on your wobbly hands and knees. But just as you think it can’t get any worse, your tray of food lands directly over your head and you find yourself entirely covered in curry, rice and pickles. The cafeteria erupts into laughter, and you think that this is probably what it feels like to die of embarrassment. You curl into yourself, wishing for the ground to swallow you whole.
“You deserve this, you know,” a familiar shrill voice sneers, and the culprit of the tripping incident reveals itself to be Ruby, one of Caleb’s classmates. You’re entirely unsurprised. She’s always been jealous of you, jealous of the way that Caleb had never returned any of her adoring looks because he was always preoccupied with you. “Because a certain somebody had a fainting spell today, Caleb’s been completely out of it. If he’s not in the right headspace for today’s state championship qualifier game, you could cost him his basketball scholarship for university. Do you really want that?”
Pulling the bowl off of your head, you feel a pang of guilt ring through you. You had no idea you were distracting Caleb like that. He didn’t deserve to have his future ruined because of you.
Beep beep, beep beep…
You wince, clutching at your chest as your heart monitor begins to beep in earnest.
“This again!” Ruby scoffs. “Always playing the damn victim whenever you want. Your heart always seems to act up whenever it’s convenient for you. We’re all sick of it, princess!”
You heave, getting up to your feet. A carrot piece slides off your hair and onto the ground. You need to get out of here before you burst into tears. This situation’s embarrassing enough as it is.
“Pipsqueak, what happened?”
Flinching, you begin to sprint away from the cafeteria. You would rather die than have Caleb see you looking so pathetic.
“Hey, wait up!”
You manage to duck into the janitor’s closet, tossing your heart monitor across the closet to shut it up instantly. You only release the breath you didn’t even realise you’d been holding when you hear his hurried footsteps pass by. Relieved and exhausted, you slide onto the ground as you finally regain control of yourself, panting quietly.
You’re at a complete loss of what to do. You hate this damn script that keeps putting you in shitty situations. You want your chest to stop hurting. But most importantly, all you want right now is to stop smelling like a pot of curry. As you feel a wretched sob coming up from the depths of your throat, you huddle into yourself, resting your forehead on your knees as you wrap your arms around your legs in search of some semblance of comfort. You sob quietly, wondering just how today has snowballed into one of the worst days of your life.
The door clicks open and at first, you think it’s Caleb who had found you, but no – it’s the mysterious student whom you met earlier this morning.
The student enters the closet, and in his hand is his sports uniform and a towel. You’re puzzled, until he comes closer, wordlessly holding them out to you.
“Thank you,” you whisper, gratefully accepting his offering. You get up to use the sink in the janitor’s closet to wash most of the curry off of your face, neck, arms and hair, drying yourself off with his towel. Burying your face into the soft fabric, you notice that the towel smells faintly of sweet jasmine. It a calming scent that feels oddly fitting for the student.
Turning to the stranger, you see that he’s got his back to you, presumably to give you some privacy to change out of your soiled uniform.
A small smile creeps up your face. He’s kind of sweet, this stranger.
Changing into his sport uniform, you notice that the fit of it is much different to yours, despite it being a unisex tracksuit. His sleeves and trousers are a lot longer, pooling at your wrists and ankles. It looks as if you’re being swallowed by his clothes, but you’re thankful that you no longer have to wear your curry-stained uniform – for now, anyway. You’re perfectly aware that the moment the next scene occurs, you’ll go straight back to how you were during the cafeteria scene. Continuity is such a pain.
“Hey, what’s your name?” you call out.
He turns to look at you, but the expression on his face makes it seem as if he didn’t hear your question.
You approach him and his eyes follow you, gaze as heavy as ever. You repeat yourself. “What’s your name?”
He doesn’t respond, but he furrows his brows, almost as if he’s also trying to figure that one out. It suddenly dawns on you – he’s probably an extra in this fictional world, with no name nor lines to say. But that’s odd, you think, as your eyes travel across his stoic face. You wouldn’t think that somebody as handsome as him would be tossed into the sad role of a nameless extra.
“Can you talk?” you ask, observing him closely. He parts his lips in an attempt to speak, but no sound comes out. You guess that in this world, if the writer hasn’t planned for you to have a voice, you simply don’t have one. That feels needlessly cruel, somehow.
“Can you understand me?”
He pauses, eventually nodding. You break into a smile, relieved that even if this mysterious stranger couldn’t speak, he could at least communicate with you.
“Do you have a name?”
The stranger hesitates, before finally shrugging his shoulders. He looks mildly upset at the thought of either not having a name, or being unable to recall what it is, which breaks your heart. You believe that everyone should be granted the dignity of having a name, even extras in a story.
“I know! I can give you a name, if you’re okay with that,” you say, and you see him nod, a small smile gracing his beautiful face. You find yourself feeling a little bashful from his warm gaze and so you look away, nervously tucking your damp hair behind your ears.
“I think…” you hum, quickly glancing over the stranger’s face, “You look like a… Zayne. How’s that for a name?”
Zayne nods, graciously accepting the name you’d given him. You can’t tell if he likes or hates it, but his smile seems to say that he’s pretty satisfied with it.
Just as you’re about to say something, however, you gasp as you’re abruptly thrown into a scene.
You’re back on the ground in the janitor’s closet, knees to your chest, as you weep pathetically about the cafeteria incident. From the corner of your eye, you notice that Zayne has completely disappeared into thin air.
The door bursts open. “There you are, Pipsqueak!”
“Go away, Caleb,” you sob, turning your back on him. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”
You hear his footsteps as he crouches down at your side, gently putting your heart monitor back on your wrist. “I’ve seen worse, silly. There’s no reason to hide from me.”
“I just want to hide in a hole and die,” you mumble amongst hiccups, feeling awfully small and stupid.
“Alright,” Caleb soothes, pulling you into a hug, “I’ll hide you away so nobody can ever find you ever again. Just say when.”
Breaking into a laugh, you smack his arm lightly but you lean into his touch regardless, burying your tear-stained face into his chest. But just as you’re about to say your next line, the most unexpected thing happens. Caleb deviates from the script.
“Whose clothes are you wearing right now?” he asks, voice suddenly distant and cold and completely unlike the Caleb that you know.
You pull back, startled. He’s supposed to ask you to come support him at his game later today. Why is he suddenly talking about the clothes you’re wearing? More importantly, how are you still wearing Zayne’s tracksuit? Wasn’t it supposed to reset to what you were wearing in the previous scene? “It… belongs to a classmate,” you find yourself saying.
Caleb narrows his eyes, examining Zayne’s tracksuit carefully. “Which classmate? A guy?”
You nod, and he immediately shrugs off his varsity jacket, firmly placing it around your shoulders. You’re completely taken aback, and your heart races wildly in your chest – you can't even tell if it's because scene-you is thrilled to have Caleb's jacket around you, or if the real you is really fucking scared. It almost hurts.
“Return it. You don't need it anymore,” Caleb orders, as he gets back up on his feet. He isn’t smiling, but what really makes you uneasy is the blank look in his eyes. You don’t think you’ve ever seen this expression on Caleb’s face before. He silently holds out a hand for you to take and you comply, feeling his firm hold pull you up from the ground. You blink owlishly as he drags you both out of the janitor’s closet, his grip on your wrist strangely tight.
The moment you step into the school corridor, however, Caleb’s entire demeanour changes. He grins boyishly, as he reaches up to fix your messy hair. “I’ve got a really important game after school today,” he says, “I’d really love it if you could come cheer me on. It’ll mean a lot to me.”
You smile brightly, relieved to return to familiar territory. “Of course, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you feel yourself saying.
“Cool. I’ll see you there, Pipsqueak. Don’t forget!”
He leaves, and the scene finally comes to a close.
Your head is spinning, and you find yourself more confused than ever. How did Caleb deviate from the script like that? Was it because you’re wearing Zayne’s tracksuit? Did that trigger something new in the story? Looking around, you realise that you’d never even seen Zayne leave the janitor’s closet. Where did he go?
The bell rings, indicating the end of lunch. You begin to climb up the stairs towards your classroom. If Zayne’s in your class like the new lines in the script said he was, you’ll probably find him there.
As you walk, you find yourself remembering Zayne’s wry smile and the sweet scent of jasmine. You’re intrigued by this mysterious Zayne. In the past, no matter how hard you’d tried, anything you’d done or worn was completely reset to default the moment a scene began. So why did Zayne’s uniform stay on you? Could he possibly be the key to gaining some sort of agency in this unforgiving fictional world?
With a heart full of hope, you hasten your pace, eager to see that familiar face in your class. For the first time in a long time, you feel as though you’re starting to gain back some sense of control in your life, and it is absolutely invigorating.