Chapter Text
The school corridor felt like a deafening sea of bodies, and Suri (Suitcase) was drowning in it. The fluorescent lights of the School hummed a monotonous tune, a stark contrast to the chaotic symphony of chatter and slamming lockers that echoed through the hallways. For Suri (Suitcase), it was all a bit much. Her hand tightened on the strap of her brown leather satchel, a nervous habit she’d had since childhood. This was it. High school. A fresh start, a new beginning, a… terrifyingly large and confusing corridor.
Her cousin, Nick, was supposed to meet her by the main office. He’d sent her a text that morning: “Don’t be late. Room 204. I’m not waiting forever.” Typical Nick. He wasn’t exactly the welcoming committee, but he was family, and in this sea of unfamiliar faces, he was her only ray of help. The issue was, she had been walking in what seemed like a lifetime and was no nearer to discovering Room 204.
Her eyes scanned the blur of faces, hoping for a friendly one. Instead, they landed on a duo who practically radiated popularity. They were leaning against a row of lockers, holding court with a circle of admirers. One, with striking white-blonde hair and a perfectly curated, expensive-looking outfit, was Sasha (Salt). The other, her equally stylish companion with a slightly softer but no less confident demeanor, was Petrica (Pepper). They were the kind of girls Suri (Suitcase) had spent her high school years trying to avoid—effortlessly cool and unapologetically judgmental.
Taking a deep breath, Suri (Suitcase) decided to take a chance. Maybe they weren't as intimidating as they looked. "Excuse me," she began.
Sasha (Salt)’s sharp, blue eyes flickered over to her, taking in Suri (Suitcase)’s simple, comfortable clothes. A smirk played on her lips. "Well, well, what do we have here?"
Petrica (Pepper) giggled, a light, airy sound that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Sasha (Salt), be nice. She's probably just a freshman."
"I see that," Sasha (Salt) drawled, her eyes resting on Suri (Suitcase)'s sturdy shoes. "Did you dress in the dark this morning, honey?"
Suri (Suitcase)'s face burned with embarrassment. "I.I was wondering if you knew the way to Room 204?" she stammered, hoping the floor would open and she would fall in.
Sasha (Salt) held up a dismissive hand. "We don't have time to do a campus tour. Go see the information desk. If you can locate it," she said with a wink at her friend, who burst out laughing. Defeated, Suri (Suitcase) turned away, the sting of their mockery sharp and unwelcome.
Blinded by a fresh wave of anxiety, she wasn’t watching where she was going and collided with a solid wall of… person. Papers scattered across the floor, and Suri (Suitcase) stumbled back, her heart pounding in her chest.
“Hey! Watch it!” a voice snapped.
Suri (Suitcase) looked up to see a boy with straight black hair with blue streaks and a look of pure annoyance on his face. He was wearing a blazer and a sash that marked him as a member of the student council, and he carried himself with an air of authority that immediately identified him as someone important. This must be Marcus (Mephone4), the head boy, a fact she knew only because she had seen his picture on the school’s website.
“I-I’m so sorry,” she stammered, bending down to help him gather his papers.
“be more careful,” he grumbled, snatching the papers from her hand. He was clearly waiting for someone, his eyes darting impatiently down the crowded hallway.
"You're... you're the head boy, right?" Suri (Suitcase) asked hesitantly.
Marcus (Mephone4)’s demeanor shifted instantly. He got a little straighter, a smug spreading across his face. “Yep thats me”
“I was just… I’m looking for Room 204,” Suri (Suitcase) said, deciding to take another chance at getting directions.
"And what does it cost you?" he said with a wicked glint in his eye. "Information such as that doesn't come without a price, you know."
Suri (Suitcase) looked at him, stunned. Was he kidding? Did the head boy of school give directions for a fee?
“Dont annoy her Marcus (Mephone4)”
A black haired, impeccably neat boy of tall height with glasses. He wore an air of efficient quietness in sharp contrast to Marcus (Mephone4)'s showy personality.
Marcus (Mephone4) let his hand fall, eyes rolling. "Micheal (Mepad), you're late. And by the way, I was doing official head boy business. It's called fundraising."
"It's harassment," Micheal (Mepad) corrected smoothly. He smiled at Suri (Suitcase), a small reasSuri (Suitcase)ng smile. "Sorry for his behavior. He gets- dramatic. You're looking the O’levels building?".
Marcus (Mephone4) grumbled to himself, loud enough for Suri (Suitcase) to catch. "You're a newcomer yourself, you know. You should keep your nose out of what a head boy is doing." He then let out a big sigh and indicated down a long hallway to the right. "Go down that hall, turn left twice, and it's the big building with the stone pillars. You can't miss it. Room 204 is on the second floor."
"Oh! Thank you! Thank you so much," Suri (Suitcase) said, genuinely grateful. She gave Micheal (Mepad) another appreciative smile before running off in the direction Marcus (Mephone4) had indicated.
The directions were perfect. She found the building easily and bounded up the stairs to the second floor. The hallway was quieter here, with students already starting to filter into classrooms. She saw the sign for Room 204 and entered
The room was already half-full, students chattering and finding their seats. Her eyes scanned the rows, and a wave of relief washed over her when she saw a familiar, grumpy face. Nick was slouched in a chair in the middle row, looking thoroughly unimpressed with his surroundings. Next to him sat a broad-shouldered, friendly-looking guy she recognized from some of Nick's photos. That must be his best friend, Berlin (Baseball).
Nick looked up as she approached, his expression softening slightly. "There you are. I was about to send a search party."
"Sorry," Suri (Suitcase) said, sliding into the seat he’d saved. "The hallways are insane."
"Tell me about it," Nick grumbled. "Anyway, this is Berlin (Baseball). Berlin (Baseball), this is my cousin, Suri (Suitcase)."
Berlin (Baseball) gave her a warm, easy smile. "Nice to meet you, Suri (Suitcase). Don't mind him," he said, nudging Nick with his elbow. "His bark is worse than his bite."
Nick just grunted in response, but Suri (Suitcase) could see the faint hint of a smile on his face. As the professor walked in and the lecture began, Suri (Suitcase) finally allowed herself to relax.
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The professor's final words, "…and have the first three pages read by Monday," were almost entirely swallowed by the screech of chairs and the sudden roar of conversation. Suri (Suitcase) felt a jolt of anxiety return, but it was quickly tempered by the presence of Nick and Berlin beside her.
"Well, that was as boring as I expected," Nick announced, stretching his arms over his head with a loud groan.
Berlin chuckled, gathering his books into a neat pile. "It wasn't that bad. Mr. Tyler tells good stories." He turned his easy smile on Suri (Suitcase). "How'd you survive your first class?"
"It was… okay," Suri (Suitcase) admitted, a genuine smile touching her face for the first time that day. "Less terrifying than finding it, anyway."
"Right, speaking of," Nick said, pulling a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. It was her class schedule. He jabbed a finger at the second line. "You've got Chemistry next. That's in the Science section, same building Marcus (Mephone4)sent you to, just the ground floor. Room 113. Think you can handle it?"
"I think so," Suri (Suitcase) said, taking the schedule and folding it carefully.
"Good. Berlin and I have Maths. We'll meet you for lunch at the main cafeteria," Nick instructed, already moving toward the door. "Don't get lost again."
"See you at lunch, Suri (Suitcase)!" Berlin called back with a friendly wave, following his friend out into the tide of students.
Left alone, Suri (Suitcase) took a deep breath. Okay. One class down. She could do this. She clutched her satchel strap and stepped out of Room 204, preparing to brave the hallways once more. She glanced down at her schedule, trying to commit the room number to memory, when a quiet voice broke through her concentration.
"Hey."
Suri (Suitcase) looked up. Standing a few feet away was a boy she vaguely recognized from the history class. He was tall, with a mop of red hair and a hesitant expression. He wasn't radiating the effortless confidence of the popular kids or the abrasive authority of the student council members. He just looked… normal. And maybe a little lonely.
"Um, hi," Suri (Suitcase) replied, her voice cautious. Her morning had taught her that unsolicited interactions were a minefield.
"I'm Bruno (Balloon)," he said, offering a small, slightly awkward smile. "You were in O-Levels History, right? With Mr. Tyler ?"
"Yeah. I'm Suri (Suitcase)," she answered, her grip on her satchel loosening just a fraction.
"I, uh… noticed you were new," Bruno (Balloon) continued, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "This place can be a lot on the first day. Or any day, really."
Suri (Suitcase) thought of Sasha (Salt)’s sneer and Marcus’s bizarre nonsense. "You can say that again," she muttered, then felt her cheeks flush, worried she’d said too much.
But Bruno (Balloon) just nodded in understanding. "Yeah. Some people... aren't great. I wanted to say, don't let them get to you. Not everyone here is like that." There was a strange weight to his words, a hint of personal experience that Suri (Suitcase) couldn't quite place. He seemed to be speaking as much to himself as to her.
His sincerity was disarming. "Thanks," she said, this time with a real smile. "I appreciate that."
"No problem," he said, his own posture relaxing. "So, where are you headed next? If you need help, I've been navigating these halls for a few years now."
Suri (Suitcase) glanced at her schedule again. "Chemistry in Room 113?"
A look of pleasant surprise crossed Bruno (Balloon)'s face. "No way! Me too! Come on, I'll walk with you."
The journey down the stairs and through the corridor was surprisingly pleasant. The chaotic sea of bodies felt less like a drowning threat and more like a river they were navigating together.
"So, what made you move here?" Bruno (Balloon) asked, breaking a comfortable silence.
"My grandmother…," Suri (Suitcase) explained simply. "We moved over the summer. It's… an adjustment."
"I get that," Bruno (Balloon) said quietly. "Sometimes a new start is exactly what you need, you know? I'm kind of trying to have one myself this year." He looked down at his shoes, a flicker of something—regret, maybe—in his eyes. "Last year wasn't my best."
Suri (Suitcase), who lived in a state of perpetual self-consciousness, felt a pang of empathy. "A fresh start sounds nice," she agreed. "That's what I'm hoping for, too."
He looked up and met her eyes, and the hesitant smile was back, but this time it was brighter, more genuine. "Well, for what it's worth, I think you're off to a good start."
They reached Room 113, a laboratory filled with the faint, clean scent of chemicals and lab benches. Finding two empty stools at a station near the back, they sat down just as the bell roared through the halls.
Suri (Suitcase) looked over at Bruno (Balloon), who was already pulling a notebook from his bag. For the second time that day, a wave of relief washed over her.
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[time skip and POV change]
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The final bell wasn't just a sound, it was like physical force.
For Michael (Mepad), the morning had been a series of new experiences. The focus of the classroom, the contained whispers of (fazool) students - this was all new but understandable. He had spent his entire life in the quiet, predictable world of his home, where the only schedule was the one he set for himself. The hallways between classes had been a challenge, a fast-moving river he had started to learn to navigate, but this? This was the breaking of a dam.
He instinctively stiffened, a feeling of being completely overwhelmed washing through him. He was used to silence, logic. This was chaos.
“Michel, don’t just stand there. You’ll get hit.”
Marcus’s voice was a familiar comfort in the storm. His brother was already moving, passing through the flood of students with an ease that Michael (Mepad) found both fascinating and deeply foreign. Michael (Mepad) took a deep breath, adjusted his glasses on his nose, a small, grounding habit. Okay. Just get to the cafeteria. Find a table. Eat lunch. He broke it down into simple, achievable steps, it was easier to do so.
He trailed in Marcus's footsteps, his gaze taking in everything, trying to make sense of the socializing around him.
When they pushed through the double doors of the cafeteria, the sensory overload hit a top peak. The noise was deafening, a hundred conversations layered on top of each other, followed by the clatter of trays and laughter.
Marcus (Mephone4)stopped just inside, a look of profound annoyance on his face. “You’d think for a school of this size, they’d invest in a cafeteria that wasn’t designed like a tiny room,” he spoke.
“It’s an inefficient use of architectural space,” Michael (Mepad) agreed quietly. The layout forced everyone into a few crowded pathways. “It makes the place uncomfortable.”
Marcus (Mephone4)rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that. What it means is, finding a table is a nightmare.” He clapped a hand on Michael (Mepad)’s arm, “Stick with me. I’ll get us a spot.”
He plunged into the sea of people, and Michael (Mepad) followed, focusing on the back of his brother’s blazer. He felt himself jostled from sides, an unpredictable physical contact that made him congested. He tried to make himself as small as possible [which was hard as he's tall af], an instinct he’d had since he was a kid in any new place.
After a tense navigation, Marcus’s eyes locked on a target. “There. Corner table by the window. It’s free. Go try to get it before someone else does”
He gave Michael (Mepad) a nudge, and Michael (Mepad) moved with quiet purpose, his long legs covering the distance quickly. He slid into one of the chairs, placing his bag on the seat beside him just as another, blond haired student started skipping towards the table. The student saw him and walked off. It was a small, silent victory.
Marcus (Mephone4)joined him a second later, slumping into the opposite chair. This small table felt like an island. The noise was still a dull roar in the background, but the immediate space around them was calm.
“So,” Marcus (Mephone4)began, pulling out his phone and scrolling through it, “On a scale of one to ten, with one being ‘a mild inconvenience’ and ten being ‘get me out of here,’ where are we at?”
Michael (Mepad) considered the question carefully. The roar of the room was a constant pressure against his ears. But Marcus (Mephone4)was here, a familiar, grounding presence that made the chaos feel manageable. "I would rate my current state as a 4.7."
Marcus (Mephone4)looked up from his phone, an amused smile on his face. “A 4.7? Just say it was a lot.”
“It was a lot,” Michael (Mepad) repeated, with a defeated sigh.
“Thought so,” Marcus (Mephone4)said, his eyes scanning the room again. His smile vanished. “And here comes the welcoming committee…” he muttered under his breath.
Michael (Mepad) looked up to see Sasha (Salt) and Petrica (Pepper) approaching. They stopped at their table, and Michael (Mepad) felt a fresh wave of anxiety.
“Oh Marcus,” Sasha (Salt) said, her voice dangerously sweet. She ignored Michael (Mepad) completely. “Nice seeing you here. Taking a break from all your important… head boy duties?”
“Sasha (Salt),” Marcus (Mephone4)replied, his tone perfectly flat. “Always a pleasure. What do you want?”
Sasha (Salt)’s sharp blue eyes finally landed on Michael (Mepad), giving him a quick, dismissive once-over. “Who's this?” she asked Marcus, as if Michael (Mepad) couldn't speak for himself. “Did you pick up a stray?”
Michael (Mepad) opened his mouth to reply, but Marcus (Mephone4)beat him to it, leaning back in his chair with a lazy confidence.
“This,” he said, gesturing to Michael (Mepad), “is Michael (Mepad). He’s new.”
Sasha (Salt)’s eyebrows shot up. She looked at Michael (Mepad) again, a flicker of surprise in her eyes, though her expression remained disdainful. She then gave Michael (Mepad) a condescending smile. “Well, Michael (Mepad). Welcome, if you need a round together, let me know”
The offer was anything but kind. “That’s kind of you,” Michel replied, his voice polite and even. “But I think I’ll be alright.”
His calm, straightforward refusal seemed to throw her off. She clearly expected him to be intimidated or flustered. When he was neither, her sweetness soured. “Wow. He’s a real charmer, isn’t he?” she spoke to Marcus. “Honestly, where did you find him? He’s… weird.”
That was it. The air around Marcus (Mephone4)shifted, his casual posture sharpening into something cold and still. “He’s my brother, Sasha (Salt). That means he’s off-limits,” he said, his voice dangerously quiet. “And speaking of off-limits, you wouldn’t be here trying to get his number, would you? I’d hate to see you get rejected again. Wasn’t the incident with Owen (OJ) last year in front of half the school humiliating enough?”
The verbal strike was swift and brutal. Sasha (Salt)’s face went pale under her makeup, her mouth falling slightly open. Sasha (Salt), for the first time, was speechless. She glared at Marcus, her eyes filled with venom, before spinning on her heel and storming away, Petrica (Pepper) scrambling to follow.
The silence she left behind was heavy.
“Why were they picking on me?” Michael (Mepad) asked softly, genuinely confused by the unprovoked hostility.
Marcus (Mephone4)shrugged, the tension leaving his shoulders as he watched them retreat. “Eh, It's not just you, that's their job” He sighed. “Don’t worry about them. They won’t bother you again.”
He stood up, looking toward the still-massive lunch line. “Right, Food. I’m hungeryy. Give me your money too, I’ll get both of us something. You stay here and guard the table”
Michael (Mepad) hesitated. “Are you sure? That line is…”
“A minor inconvenience for me,” Marcus (Mephone4)finished, a confident smile returning to his face as he tapped his head boy sash.” I don’t go in lines.” He took the cash Michael (Mepad) offered. “Sandwish?”
“Sandwish sounds good,” Michael (Mepad) agreed.
“You got it.”
Marcus (Mephone4)walked off, and just as he’d said, the line seemed to part for him, students and even a teacher letting him cut through without a word. Michael (Mepad) watched him go, a sense of wonder mixing with his relief, hoping Marcus (Mephone4)would come back quickly before any other problem arises.
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The ringing of the bell felt like a starting gun for a race Michal (Microphone) didn't want to run. She gathered her textbooks,moved slowly and deliberately, letting the first of students out of the room ahead of her. New school, new state, new life.
Stepping out of the relative quiet of the history classroom, she was met with a solid wall of sound and motion. The hall was a sea of moving bodies, a stage of shouting, laughing, and the row of locker doors.
Her first, immediate instinct was to find Kevin (Knife) . He was her anchor, the one who grounded her in this dizzying world. As her adoptive older brother, he was her only family, her protector, and her responsibility, all rolled into one.
Her eyes scanned the crowd, searching for his familiar signs and the unimpressed expression he usually wore. She stood on her toes, tilting her head, but the sea of heads and shoulders was impenetrable.
A knot of unease tightened in her stomach. He’d promised to meet her right after class. They were supposed to find a lunch table together. But in this chaos? she was utterly alone.
Sensing a sting of claustrophobia, Michal’s gaze drifted away from the crowd and toward the large windows that lined the hallway, seeking a momentary escape. She looked out onto the manicured school lawn, the vibrant green a soothing contrast to the hallway’s dull gray.
That’s when she saw it.
Partially hidden behind a thick bush just outside the window, a figure was watching her. It was just a silhouette, the sun behind it obscuring any and all features. All Michal (Microphone) could make out was a short, slight frame and a distinct shape to the hair. The figure was unnervingly still, and Michal (Microphone) felt a strange, cold certainty that its unseen eyes were locked directly on her. A shiver traced its way down her spine. Before she could even process the sight, the silhouette vanished. Michal (Microphone) stared at the empty space, her heart suddenly beating a little faster.
“BOO!”
A loud voice erupted directly behind her ear. Michal (Microphone) let out a startled yelp, jumping forward and dropping her history textbook with a loud smack against the floor. She whirled around, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Standing there, a ridiculously wide grin plastered on his face, was Paul (Pickel) . He was practically bouncing on his feet, clearly delighted with his successful ambush. And standing just behind him, looking thoroughly unamused by his friend’s action, was her brother.
An overwhelming wave of relief washed over Michal, so strong it nearly made her legs weak. It was immediately followed by a surge of pure annoyance directed squarely at the grinning idiot in front of her. Kevin (Knife) was safe. She’d found him. And now, she was going to kill his best friend.