Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Tamari.” Mariyam sighed as her sibling looked up random shit on pinterest instead of doing her work, “You’re gonna fail. Like you have for the past three years straight.”

“I’m waiting for a dm. Shut up.” Tamari rolled their eyes at Mariyam, they were doing their work. “You don’t know anything. I bet you’re not even gonna get into college.”

“Neither are you, dimwit.” Mariyam mumbled under their breath.

“Fuck you.” Tamari reloaded the screen again, seeing if they got a dm from one of their many friends. They had… forced (To say the least) them to be friends with Mariyam. So, they both had an entire famous person’s following on Pinterest.

Mariyam focused on the wall, drowning out the English teacher. They didn’t even remember his name. That wasn’t going to change soon.

Tamari hit the reload button for the fifth time in one minute, “Uhh… Why in the fuck is it taking him so longggggggggg?” They drew out the last word while leaning back in their chair, hitting the wall with the back of it.

“Maybe he doesn’t wanna message you first. Or maybe he’s not online?” Mariyam leaned over to look at the screen of Tamari’s computer.

“He is online. Just a bitch.” Tamari muttered, reloading the page again.

“Who are you waiting for?” Mariyam narrowed her eyes at the screen, grabbing it and turning it towards themself.

“Kennith. Fucking Kennith. His parents won’t let him get a phone, so his ass made us all get Pinterest so he could talk to us, but he never does.” Tamari hit the back of their computer, closing it.

“He wants a phone. I’ve heard him talk about it before. He also wants one of those glittery liquid phone case things. They cause burns, and leak all over the place.” Phoebe leaned over, taking Tamari’s computer and putting it in her bag.

“Oh, yeah! I remember one time we were talking and he said something about that, and how the liquid looked yummy, or something.” Tamari muttered, staring at Phoebe.

“Noted. Never give him one.” Mariyam looked at the both of them, staring at Phoebe’s bag. They glanced at the clock and sighed. Fifteen minutes left in this class, and they weren’t any closer to being done with the essay.

—

Norman felt Charon poke his side, over and over. He always did this when he was bored in class, since they sat together in all of them. 

Honestly, how did no one know they were dating? They constantly hugged, called each other babe and other shit. 

Of course, there were rumours (Mostly started by Tamari, by the way.) but no one really cared. The other boys in his class acted like that all the time with their friends, so why should anyone care? Norman remembers this one time when he walked in on two of the really popular boys making out in the bathroom.

Genuinely.

Norman’s first thought was to video them and send it to his groupchat with the rest of his friends.

His phone almost exploded because of that, though. Not the best idea, sure, but it was bewildering to watch a bajillion texts make an almost constant notification sound on his phone.

He’d gotten banned from his phone for a week because of it.

Chapter Text

“We need to stop normalizing the british.” Kennith pointed at Christopher, who was behind him. 

“Especially not that twink!” Tamari pointed at Christopher.

Christopher stared at them.

“I didn’t do anything!” Christopher motioned at them from behind.

“Dude, you’re a fucking war criminal.” Tamari rolled their open eye at Christopher. They walked up to the table with their other friends, Christopher and Kennith trailing behind them. They sat down next to Phoebe. (Gay ass. PHOEBE THEY KNOW WHAT YOU ARE) 

“That’s what they want you to think.” Christopher pointed at Tamari, “I, however, am beyond their propaganda.”

“You convinced multiple people to kill themselves though???” Kennith stared at him.

“Yes, and I’ll convince you too. KILL YOURSELF.” 

“Aww man. I definitely wasn’t going to.” 

“Kennith put the knife DOWN.” Stephanie stood up and accidentally slapped Norman’s shoe in doing so, because he was sitting with his head in Charon’s lap. 

And he didn’t even notice.

“So… Tamari. What do you wanna do after school, you and Mariyam are coming over, right?” Norman sat up a little, turning to stare at them.

“I don’t know… Your dad scares me.” Mariyam leaned over to Tamari, “What about you?”

“Your mom’s genetics lwk carried, Norman. Your dad did not cook genetics wise, since he’s… you know… A praying mantis.” Tamari turned to Phoebe, staring at Norman from across the table. 

“Okay, so it’ll just be Charon then.” Norman set his head back in Charon’s lap.

“Actually, I have to help God with something…” Charon leaned back a little, “You can come and help us!”

“I swear if this is just an elaborate scheme to hang out without having to interact with Father, I will never talk to you again.” Norman rolled his eyes at Charon.

“It was a scheme, just not that. Your dad is moderately nice to me.”

“What scheme is it, then?”

“God wanted to study the effects of the vivisection on you, just check up, you know, the basics.”

“I don’t feel like being studied today, no thank you. Either you can come over or we wait for two weeks to hang out after school, you know Father only lets me go out with you guys once a month.” Norman kept going, “I guess I’ll come over, just tell God to leave me alone.”

“I can’t ignore a direct order from God, you know that. He’d just tell me to shut up or something.” Charon hugged Norman’s head closer to his body with the bottom set of his arms.

Chapter Text

Kennith squinted at the bright screen of his school-issued computer. It was the first day he was allowed to use his computer at home since his parents had caught him trying to buy razors. And he was blowing it already. It was about 3 am, he had caught Tamari online an hour ago, and they were still talking.

Well, not exactly talking.

It was more like texting.

He waited for Tamari to respond, and actually forced himself to get water, since he hadn’t had any that day. It had just completely passed his mind, to be honest. He rubbed at his eyes as he heaved himself off his bed, watching the pink blanket fall onto the disgusting floor of his room. He quickly picked it back up, putting it over his now closed computer.

No use getting caught if he could prevent it, somewhat.

He stepped into the hallway, humming a song to himself. He rounded the corner into his living room, and almost jumped out of his skin. He had forgotten how creepy his living room was. There was close to no light, just the brights of his cat’s eyes and the constant red dot on the TV.

He blindly felt the wall for the switch, flicking it and sending his cat scrambling around on the floor. Kennith tugged his shirt down over his thighs and walked into the living room, picking up his cat. The thing still hadn’t seen him, she was pretty blind.

The cat was small, with black fur and reddish eyes. She was weird about people, Kennith and Stephanie were an exception. He had gotten her last month, for his birthday, and she was pre-named Knives. 

Why the fuck would you name a cat Knives? It’s such an absurd name for such a small thing, she didn’t really fit the name. She was clingy and got violent if she was left alone for too long. 

Kennith remembered hearing Norman talk about a character of the same name when he had met the cat. He had said that the character and the cat acted the same. Maybe she was named as a reference.

He couldn’t for the life of him remember what the character was from, though. Something to do with seven exes.

He walked into the kitchen, opening one of the cabinets and getting a plastic cup, He turned the faucet on, making Knives jump and run out of his hands. He filled the cup with water and turned the faucet off, walking over to his now shaking cat, and held the water out for her to sniff.

This was a part of his routine, he'd stay up all night, or at least until Stephanie had caught him online and forced him to go to bed. He'd get water at 3 am, let his cat sniff it, and walk away with his water.

It tasted less like metal when he let his cat smell it.

Not that he was against the taste of metal, far from it, actually. He loved the taste of metal. The water at his house tasted like a metal-coated skunk had crawled into whatever tank they got the shit from and died there.

He plodded back into his disgusting room, setting the water on his bedside table, and rubbing his eyes with his palms. He stared at them, the eyeliner he'd been wearing now smudged on his hands. It felt weird on his hands. The shit had been cheap, but he didn't even pay for it.

He had stolen it from the dollar store like three months ago when he had run out for some alcohol, since the only person that would sell him the stuff worked there. One of his friends, actually, this older guy named Greg. 

He wouldn't confirm or deny anything he thought about that man.

It would be too jeopardizing.