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Hometown at night carries a particularly odd type of silence.
It’s the only thing Noelle can think about as she slips out onto the porch with her coat only half-buttoned, breath puffing out in pale clouds. Her fingers linger on the doorknob, just for a second longer than they need to, the sound of her own pulse drumming inside her head before she lets go of it carefully.
The door doesn’t creak. It never does.
She steps off the porch, boots crunching softly against the gravel path. She walks past the hedges trimmed to perfect height, past the quiet sidewalk, under the streetlamp that buzzes faintly above her head and makes her shadow the same shape every time.
She’s done this before. Not often enough to call it a habit, but enough that she knows which patches of sidewalk are uneven, which driveways have motion sensor lights, and which tree to climb on to avoid hurting herself on the big fence her mother had installed for extra security a few months ago.
It’s all exactly the way it was when she was a kid, except Dess isn’t there to hold her hand through it. The topic of her sister sits in the town like an old bruise: big enough that everyone feels it, but sore enough that no one pokes at it.
Noelle doesn’t cry about it anymore. After all, she’s gonna be seventeen soon, and she’s got more important stuff to worry about—extracurriculars and cram school, for example.
On nights like these though, she allows herself a little taste of teenage rebellion. She doesn’t think too hard about where she’s going, and lets muscle memory do its own thing.
Except… she kind of always ends up at the same place.
The school playground looks shrunken in the dark, but it’s empty, and so eerily quiet it makes her shiver through her thick winter coat.
She ducks under the gap in the fence that’s been there since fifth grade. Back then, it had been wide enough for two kids to crawl through side-by-side, usually with raspberry popsicles from the corner store clenched in between their teeth. Now the edges have rusted inwards, making her skirt snag on one of the bars, and she yanks it free so roughly the hem gives way with a faint rip.
Once inside, it’s easy to find her way. Past the dome, its paint peeling in curled flakes like old sunburn. Across the patch of grass that somehow always stays dry no matter how much it rains. Around the swing with the chain that creaks, to the quieter one beside it, where her initials are carved roughly on the metal.
It was a terrible choice to wear tights on the coldest day of the year, and even worse to plant herself in what’s fast becoming the edge of a winter storm. The cold chews at her ankles, seeps into her bones, but she draws in a lungful anyway, letting the air sting all the way down.
Footsteps crunch over the frost behind her, heavy and slow. She doesn’t have to look to know who they belong to.
“Well, well, well. Out past curfew, huh?”
Noelle huffs out a short breath through her nose, eyes still fixed ahead. “Hi, Susie.”
The footsteps come closer until the swing beside her shifts under new weight, chains groaning in protest. Susie leans back, boots planted in the dirt, letting the swing rock with an easy rhythm.
“So…uh,” She leans forward, elbows on her knees. “What’re you doing out here? It’s cold as hell.”
“Could say the same to you.”
“Hey,” Susie snickers, “I’m a free spirit, ‘kay? I go wherever I please.”
She says it with mock confidence, but there’s enough truth in it that Noelle doesn’t bother arguing. Her own mom can be very particular about where she is and when, but that isn’t the reason she’s out tonight. Even so, Susie’s got a point—if she keeps slipping out like this, sooner or later she’s going to end up grounded for weeks.
It doesn’t make it any less exciting, though.
Noelle sighs, and Susie seems to notice the way her shoulders deflate. “Well, you don’t have to tell me. It's cool.”
“Couldn’t sleep.” she interrupts.
It’s a bullshit excuse, probably her worst one to date. Susie’s eyebrows shoot up. “Guess insomnia’s popular these days.” She mumbles. “I thought deer were supposed to sleep like, twelve hours a day or something.”
“That’s cats,” Noelle answers, lips curling upwards. “And, um. Koalas, I think.”
“Well, crap. There goes my bio report.”
The comment makes her laugh echo throughout the empty playground. When Noelle finally regains her composure, she dares to ask. “What about you? You weren’t here last week.”
She skips the part where she says I missed you —for obvious reasons.
“Something came up, nothing important.” Susie replies, dismissive.
She’s scratching the back of her neck carelessly, but the slight tremor in her voice doesn’t go unnoticed by Noelle’s acute hearing. It draws her gaze down to the fact that Susie’s out here without so much as a scarf. “Nobody knows about this, by the way, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
It’s not what’s on Noelle’s mind, not even close. If anything, what’s currently bothering her is the way Susie’s shoulders tense against every gust, that thin coat doing little more than catching snowflakes. The longer she watches, the more her thoughts start to pull apart at the seams. If she hadn’t come out tonight, would Susie still be here, letting the cold gnaw at her until her teeth ached? Would she even bother showing up at all?
Maybe she’d be home, warm and comfortable, sprawled out on her bed with a bag of chips, not wasting her night in a half-frozen playground. And if that were the case, then this would be Noelle’s fault; she’d shown up that first time, and Susie had let her stay. Because for all her toughest girl in town talk, she’s actually too nice to tell Noelle to just piss off already.
So what does that make her? A needy little space hog with frostbite for brains, apparently.
“You’re freezing.” She blurts out.
Susie gives her an unimpressed look. “You’re not exactly dressed for the weather either, Rudolph.”
“N-no, no. I mean, you’re shivering .”
Before Susie can answer, Noelle’s already peeling off her coat. She pushes herself out of the swing and holds in a wince when she feels the cold air immediately clawing at her arms.
“The hell are you doing!?”
“I-it’s fine, I swear.”
She drapes the coat on top of Susie’s wide shoulders. On her, it looks comically small, but at least it gets the job done. “It’s not fine, dumbass.” She protests, though the quiet exhale she lets out at the first rush of warmth doesn’t exactly back her up.
Noelle looks at her work and hums, satisfied. She tries to waddle back into her seat. Keyword, tries , because Susie pulls her by the arm in a swift motion and suddenly the world tumbles for a second until she lands on something much warmer and far more comfortable than the frozen metal seat.
“S-susie! Your jeans will—”
“ What? You think I’m just gonna sit here while you freeze your ass off? Stay put, or else I’ll get mad at you for real.”
Susie’s warning hangs in the air, and Noelle stays exactly where she is.
The position feels awkward, her knees drawn up and legs angled to the side so she’s not straddling her, but the heat starting to flood her cheeks is impossible to ignore. She isn’t sure if she’s more nervous about the closeness or about testing Susie’s patience by moving; she’s not one for making empty threats.
Besides, she’s warm now, so there’s no real reason to risk it.
The silence between them stretches, filled only by the screeching swing chains moving back and forth. Susie goes uncharacteristically silent, looking seemingly content to just sit and soak in the cold weather.
It takes a few minutes, but Noelle’s leg slowly starts to cramp. She knows Susie won’t drag the truth out of her, but she also knows she won’t be let go until she gives in to her demands.
The steel-like grip around her waist is Susie’s silent way of saying: don't even try.
“I-I didn’t actually have trouble sleeping.” She admits once it starts feeling like ants crawling on her calves. “My mom’s just being a pain because it's my birthday tomorrow. And…”
“Your birthday ?”
Noelle laughs at the way Susie’s eyes bulge out of their sockets. She exhales and turns around so her legs fall on either side of Susie’s waist. The relief is almost instant. “It’s not a big deal. I never tell anybody because parties make me nervous, and I'm too awkward for that kind of attention either way.”
“Dude, please tell me you’re kidding.” She pleads.
“I’m not!— really , I just don't like it.”
Susie looks at her like she’s grown a second head. “That’s insane. Birthdays are the best. You get to eat whatever you want, everyone’s forced to be nice to you, and you can milk it for free stuff if you play your cards right.”
Her hands slide down without much thought, fingers curling against Noelle’s thighs. “I mean. That’s what I’ve heard, anyway.”
“You’ve… heard?”
“Yeah,” she says. “Never had one myself, how the heck should I know?”
She doesn’t elaborate, and Noelle doesn’t press. Again, she leans forward just to press herself deeper into Susie’s broad figure. When she first came into town, it was the first thing people noticed about her. All everyone could talk about for weeks was how imposing the new girl was, how big and tall, how scary.
It’s Noelle’s favorite thing about her. Not that she'd ever tell her that. If she closes her eyes, it's like hugging a teddy bear, only ten times better.
Susie groans a little at the sudden pressure, but doesn't make any effort to push her away.
Maybe it’s the weather, or the hour. Perhaps it's the fact that tomorrow her mom is going to make her sit through a series of painful events that will only serve as a reminder of how lonely she actually is, how she’s a girl forgotten— just like Dess. But she’s feeling bold tonight.
“We should share one,” Noelle says. She speaks again before Susie can start asking questions. “We’ll meet here at the same time, and I'll bring some cake from the store, and we can eat it together.”
“You’re—” Susie takes a deep breath. “You can’t. You’ll get grounded.”
“Will I?” Noelle snakes her arms tighter around her neck. “I’ll be fine. Mom won't even notice.” She toys with a couple rebellious strands on Susie's hair, smoothing them between her fingers. “Please?”
Now that she mentions her, Noelle wonders where her mother is right now, back at home—maybe still in her room, sitting on Dess’s bed, the empty space she once inhabited. It won’t be hard to slip away tomorrow night. Usually, she’s way too lost in thought to notice when Noelle stumbles her way out the front door.
Susie’s voice softens. “ Fine . Whatever. But if you get caught and grounded for life, I’m not doing that Rapunzel shit, got it?”
It drags a smile to Noelle's face. For a brief moment, she imagines it: The wind whipping past as Susie hauls herself up her bedroom window, all for one last look before she’s gone for good. Noelle watches her disappear into the dark, the click of her boots fading until there's nothing.
She shakes the thought away. “It’ll be the best birthday ever, Susie. I swear!”
“Better be.”
Oh, it will. Noelle will make sure of that. Her own birthday might be a sore spot, but when she was little, she used to plan Kris’s with Toriel a whole week in advance. A little plotting once a year keeps the mind young, Toriel would tell her, before lowering her voice and asking Noelle to keep it secret—because if there’s anything better than a birthday party, it’s a surprise birthday party.
It’s been a long time since then. These days, Kris barely talks to her outside of group projects and passing hellos in the hallway. Noelle tells herself it’s fine, that people grow apart, that maybe they were never as close as she thought. But she thinks about her computer background, the pet cactus she keeps on her nightstand, the chewed up pen stored securely inside her desk, and suddenly it’s middle school all over again.
“Can I ask you something?” Susie’s voice startles her. It’s low, almost swallowed by the wind. Beneath Noelle’s arms, she can feel the faint tremor in her shoulders.
“Do… do you believe in that Prophecy stuff?”
The question makes her lift her head from where she’d been nuzzling Susie’s collarbones. She studies her face, trying to figure out if this is another one of her pranks or something else entirely.
It doesn’t seem like a joke.
She takes a small pause to choose her next words carefully. “Not really. I-I always thought it was too scary.”
“Scary?” Susie squeezes Noelle’s knee.
“Well, I can’t imagine being told that your future is already set in stone would be very comforting,” When Susie flinches, she puts a hand on her chest. “It’s just a dumb prophecy, though. Why are you so shaken up about it?”
Susie ignores her question. “Do you think it could change? Y’know, if someone really really wanted it to?”
Noelle blinks dumbly.
The answer feels almost laughable coming from her. She can already picture the neat stack of college application letters her mom has sent out on her behalf, the polite smiles she’s been forced to wear during dinners with “potential suitors,” the way every page of the next five years of her life seems to have been penciled in without her permission.
The empty spot across from her at lunch where Kris used to sit, now a hollow weight she carries from one day to the next. The blanket on the couch still folded neat, holding the shape of someone who hasn’t been there in years.
It wasn’t always that way. There used to be someone who told her she could rip the pages out if she wanted. Someone who swore the world was bigger than Hometown, bigger than the plans other people made for you.
Then she was gone.
However, Susie doesn't need to hear that right now. Noelle puts on a small smile for her before she replies. “I think it’s worth a try.”
“Yeah?” she says, breathless. “Then I guess I’ll just have to try harder than anyone else.”
Noelle huffs out a laugh, brushing her thumb over the edge of Susie’s jaw. She’s only a bit confused, that doesn’t mean she won’t be supportive. “If anyone could pull it off, it’d be you.”
Susie hums. When Noelle looks at her she's watching this stars, so she follows her gaze, wondering she might see, only to get the same murky stretch of nothing she’s grown used to over the years. There are no stars in Hometown, at least not in the middle of winter.
“You’re crazy, Jingles.” Susie says after a moment, shifting under her. The dark makes it hard to distinguish her features, but Noelle hopes she’s smiling. She doesn't know what she’d do if Susie ever stopped smiling at her. “Lucky for you, I might be too.”
She stands carefully and offers a hand when Noelle’s legs wobble from sitting too long. In a different world, she thinks, they would’ve never met. In a different world, she's in her room right now, staring at the ceiling, wasting away.
Susie’s taking off her jacket, setting it back carefully on Noelle’s shoulders. The faux fur prickles at her nose. “So, same time tomorrow?”
Noelle pulls the jacket tighter around herself, letting the leftover warmth sink in—It smells like apple pie. It smells like Susie. “Yeah.” She mutters.
“ Well , don’t look so sad about it”. Susie squints at her in the dark before stepping forward and folding her into a quick hug. Her scales are cool at the touch. By the time Noelle’s arms start to loop around her waist, she’s already pulling back.
“See ya, birthday girl.” She snorts. “Don’t make me come drag you out.”
It’s a funny image. Her mom would probably have a heart attack if Susie showed up unannounced. She’d yell, maybe even threaten to call the police, and in the middle of it all, Noelle would slip out the back door. She’d run, take Susie’s hand, and then they’d run. Far enough that Hometown, and everything that’s happened here, felt small between them.
It would be terrifying. Noelle’s never been good at doing new, scary things, only watching them happen. But Susie’s frightened too, that much is obvious, and if she’s willing to keep going—
“Guess I’ll save you the trip,” she says.
Susie waves, shoving her hands deep into her pockets before heading down the sidewalk. Noelle stays on the playground until she’s gone, jacket still warm on her shoulders, the echo of her words stubborn in her chest.
Guess I’ll try harder than anyone else. It’s naive, maybe even childish, yet it fills her with hope that follows her much later, once she slides back beneath her blankets, and into sleep.