Work Text:
On a campus as large as the one they were at, it was hard for one person to be considered “well-known.”
Barb took that as a challenge.
She was a music major, and insisted that Rock music was the pinnacle of human creation. As such, she demonstrated the epicness of rock music frequently, in the middle of the quad. She was a frequent face on the school social media, loud and proud and rockin’ out.
…unfortunately for her roommate, who was pulled into the whole drama.
Poppy was a Social Work major, trying to get her degree on the pre-law track so she could work in organizational and policy work after she graduated. While she enjoyed spending time with her friends on the weekends and during her free time, that free time was severely limited by the amount of studying she had to do. And she was doing it. Her dad went through a lot to get her to the point she was at, and she wasn’t going to take advantage of that.
On weeknights, she found herself studying in her room or trying to sleep to prepare for the next day, frequently interrupted by her noisy roommate, Barb.
“Would you keep it down!” Poppy yelled at her, through the thin walls of their suite-style dorm.
“What?” Barb yelled back, sarcastically. “I can’t hear you over my rock!!”
Poppy let out a noise of annoyance, turning onto her other side. She glared at the clock. It was 3 in the morning. She pulled out a pair of noise-cancelling headphones and tried her hardest to fall asleep.
She had an 8 am the next day- or, well, that morning. She sighed, burying her face in her pillows.
—
She was woken up by her alarm not 4 hours later, silencing it with a groan. She got out of bed, sent a good morning text to her friends, and started her day. She put on presentable clothes, straightened her hair, and touched up her eyes with a bit of eyeshadow.
Then, she walked out to the kitchen to begin her coffee and breakfast. While the drink was brewing, she pulled out a toaster breakfast and started it.
If she was more put together, she might have taken the time to make her lunch for the day as well, since she had back-to-back classes until 3PM, but she didn’t feel awake enough to figure out what sounded decent when stored in a semi-insulated bag that would be sitting in the sun for hours.
The toasted popped, and the coffee finished brewing, and she sighed, knowing her brief respite had ended. She reached into the cabinet, grabbing the mug with a photo of her, her dad, and her sister on it and made sure it was clean, before turning and grabbing the creamer from the fridge.
“Why’re you so goddamn peppy all the time?” Barb complained, tumbling out of bed. She stumbled into the kitchen, still clad in her pajamas.
Poppy snorted. “No, that’s my dad- HEY!”
Without so much as blinking, Barb picked up the coffee pot and downed a quarter of it in one go. “This coffee is shit,” she muttered, glaring at the pot.
“It wasn’t for you!” Poppy protested, glaring at her in return.
“Your fault for waking me up so early,” Barb argued. “I don’t have class until 11.”
“Lucky you!” Poppy complained, snatching back the coffee pot. She narrowed her eyes at it, debating silently.
“It’s fine,” Barb dismissed her. “You add so much creamer and sugar, it’s barely coffee anyways.”
“You didn’t have to drink straight from the pot ,” Poppy grumbled, putting it down and grabbing her breakfast from the toaster.
Barb shrugged, throwing herself onto their shared couch (which was more her couch than Poppy’s). “Hey, maybe less caffeine will calm you down.”
Poppy glared, and decided she didn’t care enough to brew a new pot before she had to run to class. Instead, she grabbed the pot herself and chugged the other three quarters in one go, slamming it into the sink. “Fine. You get to clean up.” She grabbed her pink messenger bag, throwing it over her shoulder as she left, Barb yelling after her.
—
At 5PM, Poppy walked into the dining hall, selecting her meal and going to sit down at her usual table. Not long after, her best friend sat next to her.
“Your eyeliner is shakier than usual,” he said, without preamble.
“Thanks, Branch,” she grumbled. “Truly the advice I needed to get through my day.”
“You’re welcome,” he fired back, without hesitating. “Rock music until midnight last night?”
“Try past 3 AM,” she whined, picking at her food. “And then, she drank my coffee straight from the pot.”
He hissed in a breath. “Sorry you didn’t get your coffee.”
“No, I did.”
He paused, before rolling his eyes. “Poppifer, this is getting a bit ridiculous.”
She scoffed. “Someone needs to tell her that.” She deflated, sipping her water. “I don’t want to talk about it. How was your professor today?”
“Oh, don’t get me started,” he groaned. “The guy pulled up Minecraft instead of lecturing. It was on the big screen.”
“...that’s… interesting?” She said, hesitantly. “This was your… cell bio professor?”
He nodded, continuing on with the story.
They knew each other since they were little, though they hated each other for years. It wasn’t until high school, when her boyfriend betrayed her, and he was the one who found her crying in the janitor’s closet. Slowly, they formed a tentative alliance, which transformed into a friendship over time.
When they ended up going to the same college, they became even closer, even though she was pre-law and social work, and he was pre-med and bio.
“I have to go study,” he said eventually, “since my teachers are incapable of teaching.”
She nodded. “See you tomorrow?”
He nodded. “Don’t kill your roommate before then.”
She smirked. “We’ll see.”
—
Barb groaned, dropping her tray on the table in a dining hall across campus. “She’s just- so annoying!”
“Hi, how are you?” Carol said, sarcastically.
“She woke me up at 7am!” Barb continued, as if no one had spoken. “In her preppy little miniskirt and pink eyeshadow.” She groaned again. “She’s-!!” She ignored her food to pull out her lyric notebook, scribbling down words furiously.
“I bet she’s a trust fund kid, or something,” Riff said. “I know she doesn’t work during the school year.”
“She ever say shit about me in your classes?” Barb questioned, still scribbling as she ignored her food.
“Nah, man,” Riff said, dismissively. “Besides, classroom stuff is confidential, or something.”
“That’s just academic records shit under FERPA,” Carol argued. “If she says something in class, that’s free reign.”
“No, it’s different in our classes,” Riff defended. “Some pretty heavy shit is shared in class, so we all promise at risk of academic integrity violation not to share other people’s shit publicly.”
“Why do you give a shit?” Barb ground out. “You’re just there for your minor. Psych actually makes sense, it’s not that ‘let’s talk about our feelings and call it a day’ bullshit.” She used a very fake valley girl voice to add to the mocking. “Only trust fund babies would waste money on a pointless degree like that.”
—
It was past midnight. Barb was playing her guitar again. Poppy glared at her ceiling, clutching her stuffed animals tightly. She not only had a different class in the morning, but this one had a quiz at the start of class.
She wasn’t waiting until 3AM, when she was too tired to stay awake anymore, this time.
Throwing her blankets off, she stepped into her slippers and stormed across the living room to the other bedroom door, pounding loudly on it. The music stopped, and after a minute (in which Poppy debated knocking again) the door swung open.
“What?” She said, carelessly.
“You need to be quiet tonight.”
Barb scoffed. “I’m practicing ,” she said, glaring. “I have a performance tomorrow.”
“I have an exam tomorrow,” Poppy argued, pointedly.
“Yeah?” Barb said, sarcastically. “Well, my thing’s actually going to lead to a career. What are you going to do? Get a job that pays the ‘goodness of your heart?’” She mocked. “You’re paying all this money for a pointless degree, who cares if you fail a quiz?”
Poppy glared. She pushed her way into Barb’s room and unplugged her amp.
“Hey!”
“I have been trying to compromise!” Poppy yelled at her. “But you just keep acting like you’ve never had to cohabitate in your life!”
“You keep trying to compromise?!” Barb yelled. “You keep waking me up early in the morning! And you’re always bringing guys around!”
Poppy stared at her in shock. “You mean my friends?!” She burst out.
“You don’t ask before bringing them over!” Barb argued.
“Are you seriously mad that I have my friends over?! This is my living space, too!” Poppy yelled at her.
Barb scoffed, crossing her arms. “You walk around in your little pink tank top and short-shorts like you own this place! Newsflash, princess pink, the world doesn’t revolve around you!”
“I never said it did!” She argued back. “All I ask is that you let me sleep at night, since I actually have to wake up early!! My friends and I hang out in my room, so we don’t disturb you! I don’t even play music while I do anything unless I have my headphones in, so I don’t bother you!”
“Well, what do you expect me to do?!” Barb yelled back. “I have to practice for my major! I can’t exactly play guitar silently!”
“Not practice in the middle of the night!!” Poppy burst out. “Fine! You win! You get the apartment all to yourself!” She threw on her robe, grabbing her keys and storming out the door, still in her slippers.
—
Satin and Chenille were not pleased to be woken in the middle of the night, but they let Poppy sleep on their couch for the night.
In the morning, they all sat down at the small counter, Poppy with her coffee and the other two with smoothies. Chenille had her sleep mask still sitting on her head, wrapped in a soft robe, while Satin was wearing fuzzy pajama pants and an old t-shirt.
“Now, what exactly caused you to disturb my precious beauty sleep?” Chenille said, delicately raising her drink.
“Barb was playing her music again,” Poppy grumbled. “I have an exam in half an hour, and I just wanted sleep.”
“Sweetie, usually you just put headphones on and force yourself to go to sleep,” Satin said, kindly. “What was different this time?”
Poppy deflated. “She was playing our song,” she admitted. “I just- I can’t-”
“Oh, sweetie,” Satin said, giving her a side hug. Chenille grumbled, but followed along, hugging her from the other side.
“You know, we have a while before you have to be there for your quiz,” Chenille said, eventually. “Why don’t we make you look less miserable?”
“Chenille!” Satin said, scoldingly, before turning to Poppy. “But, you know, if you’d like a make over…”
“Guys, I have 30 minutes.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that!”
—
Poppy walked out of her exam hours later, sure she failed, but looking fabulous while doing it.
Her friends had given her a perfect make-up look to compliment the sparkly pink outfit they had made for her. As fashion design majors, the girls always made the best looks, but this one blew her away. It made Poppy feel cute and important, which probably helped her confidence with her exam a bit.
That day, she had a break in her classes, and had promised her friends to join them at the campus gardens for a photoshoot, which would go into both the twins’ fashion portfolio and Biggie’s photography portfolio. Branch was bringing them all lunch, since his brother Bruce had heard about the meet-up and insisted on cooking for them.
Luckily, his restaurant was in the city (Poppy sometimes wondered if that was why Branch chose this college, despite his insistence that he hated his brothers).
Poppy felt herself relaxing as she walked across the quad, feeling cute and coordinated and confident.
“HEY!!” Someone yelled. “It’s Little Miss Peppy!”
She turned to find a bunch of students, standing by a stage, pointing their phones at her. On the stage was Barb, who was glaring at her.
“Well, lookie here, everyone!” She called. “It’s the prissy roommate who hates music!!”
The crowd started talking, all pointing their phones and laughing.
Unknown to Poppy, Barb’s fame had come with notoriety for her. The loud, outspoken rocker, who was dedicated to music in a way most people could only dream of, had a preppy roommate who hated music. Rock music, specifically.
According to the internet, she was rich, and completely oblivious to life outside her little bubble.
“You ready for my new song?!” Barb yelled to the crowd, who grew more fired up. Students came out of nearby buildings, pulling out their own phones and beginning to record, all pointed at either Poppy or Barb.
The rocker smirked, before playing a song all about how entitled she thought Poppy was.
Where you're from
You might be the one who's running things
Well, you could ring anybody's bell and get what you want
See, it's easy to ignore trouble
When you're living in a bubble
She played directly at Poppy, who stood, still and glaring, on the sidewalk, in case anyone hadn't already known who she was singing to. The crowd was gawking and murmuring, pointing fingers and cameras.
When Barb ended the song with a flourish, they all began cheering, taunting the pink-clad girl who was standing on the sidewalk.
Without changing expression, Poppy began walking forwards, her pace not faltering as she walked effortlessly across the uneven turf in her heels.
“Oh, you coming to fight me now?” Barb taunted her, putting her guitar down to square up. “Little Miss Peppy engaging in a scratch-fight?”
With a fixed glare, Poppy continued to walk, the crowd parting before her, jeering and taunting as she walked past. Effortlessly, she hopped up on the stage, right across from Barb.
The crowd silenced in anticipation, more people pouring out from buildings, even professors, to see the fight between the rock girl and her preppy pink roommate.
Instead of going for Barb, though, Poppy grabbed a spare guitar, and began plucking out a melody.
Everyone was in shock, even the rock girl herself, as she built up power and speed in the chords. Hesitantly, Riff joined her on his drums, earning his own glare from Barb.
Poppy lifted her gaze back to her roommate after a minute of shredding, and began singing.
You just stood there, screaming
Fearing no one would listen to you
They say the empty can rattles the most,
The sound of your own voice must soothe you
Hearing only what you wanna hear
And knowing only what you've heard
You
You're ‘smothered in tragedy’
Poppy sang, mockingly.
And you're off to save the world!
She continued into a chorus, playing with a flourish as she continued to shred on the borrowed guitar.
Carol even joined in, playing a bass accompaniment, but no one dared stop Poppy as she played and sung.
Barb was shocked into silence, especially through the whole minute-long guitar flare at the end of the song.
And Poppy wasn't just singing, either, she performed for the crowd like she owned the stage. At the end flourish, she turned, leaning into a backbend as she continued to play, balancing, despite her heels, as she played upside-down to the cheering crowd.
As the last note rung out, she stood back up, not a hair out of place, and handed the guitar to a still-shocked Barb. “I like music as long as it's not 3 am on a school night,” she said, scathingly. “And Partners in Crime by Set it Off? How 2013 emo of you.”
Walking away, she grabbed her pink messenger bag from the side of the stage as the crowd parted for her. She paid them no mind, pausing just before she disappeared around a building. “Oh! And just call me Poppy. Peppy's my dad,” she called to Barb, mockingly, before turning and disappearing like a pink angel.
Barb stared in shock, replaying the whole performance over and over in her mind.
—
When Poppy returned to her room that night, it was silent. And it stayed that way.