Chapter Text
Okay, so — let's do this oooone last time.
Four more times.
What?
Four. Four more times, there's — there's four of us in here.
Okay, but — we don't, we don't need a separate introduction for all of us, do we?
Eh…
We have different names.
I guess that's…yeah, okay, but like —
And colours!
And we remember different things.
…Okay but — we can get to those later, can't we?
Our names?
No, no the — the backstory — shit.
Isn't that what you start with?
I mean, yeah, kinda, but —
I don't think this is an effective introduction.
Well, I was trying to start —
We should redo this. Start over. Yeah, yeah start over and try it again.
What do you — okay, what do you want me to change? Should I — should I add our names more, or, what —
No, no. Maybe we can do our own intros at the start of the chapters.
Hey! No breaking the fourth wall.
THAT'S ALL YOU'VE BEEN DOING! Hypocrite.
Yeah but it's like — it's in the — it's in the movie — shit.
HA! Who's breaking the fourth wall now?
Okay, well now it's awkward if we do the intro.
Eh…who cares though? Not me!
Yeah…not me either. Okay, let's try this again!
My name is Cain Hawthorne, and we are the four and many Spiderpeople.
Confused? Don't worry. So were we.
"Have you eaten breakfast?" Cain spun on his heels to see Bryn leaning against the kitchen counter. A golden badge gleamed over navy blue fabric, Hawthorne plated beneath it.
That's Bryn. He's our older brother and the only one that cares enough to actually look out for us.
"Um…" Cain glanced at the fridge, then back to Bryn, shuffling indiscreetly toward the door. "Yes..?"
"Don't lie to me, Cain." Bryn raised an eyebrow, equally skeptical and unamused.
Sometimes I think he doesn't realize we're used to looking after ourselves.
"Would I lie to you?" Cain asked, hand falling on the doorknob. "Discuss amongst yourself. Bye!"
"Cain — Cain, wait!" Bryn shouted as Cain bounded out the door. His protests were silenced as it thudded shut.
He doesn't get it. But, no one does, so…I guess we're used to that by now.
Cain adjusted his headphones to muffle the buzz of chatter and honks and beeps of morning traffic. The sidewalk passed cracked and littered beneath his feet and his backpack's straps scraped against his palms.
We don't really have friends. They're hard to make, harder to keep…
I prefer to read a book. We're awkward and hard to talk to, so…we don't talk to anyone. We don't get embarassed, and they don't have to figure out how to talk to us. So, Win-Win, right?
…Yeah. Right.
The highschool towered in front of Cain. It wasn't anything fancy, just big and white and gray with doodles sketched into the walls. Staircases led up to the main doors, propped open by a makeshift system of dark blue chairs and ash gray trash cans. Grass rolled down the hills beside the railings, speckled with teenagers who couldn't care less about the bright red STAY OFF GRASS! sign that was posted in front of it.
The world tilted, shifted, cleared.
It was like they'd become aware, even though they had been perfectly aware of their surroundings before.
Violet stepped up the concrete ridge that lined the grass and walked around it until she reached the tree at the far right corner. She glanced around for any particularly snooty yard duties and slid into the gap the space between two curved roots provided, resting her back against the tree.
Right. We should probably explain this.
You know that little voice in your head that you use to decide where to go and what to do? Yeah. Imagine if that actually had it's own opinions, and it wasn't just a vaguely curious train of thoughts. Now imagine it also had its own favorite food, favorite color, gender, clothing style, even its own allergies and skills.
Okay, you're imagining that? That's basically our setup.
If you're thinking, "wow! that sounds super complicated and confusing and like you could never figure out what's going on or what to do!" then, yep! Welcome to our world.
I wanna do a doodle on the ledge there, Cain said. Violet knew she was firmly present when his voice came from the back of the ledge they called "front".
Voilet's gaze cut to the little Amidst Us creatures, various explitives and inappropriates, and little expressions on the concrete. You're not allowed, she answered, pulling their notebook out of their backpack.
Since when do we care about what's allowed? Cain asked.
I care! Violet volunteered.
I don't! That was the distant echo of Roy. He didn't seem particularly present.
Well, I don't want to get in trouble! Violet asserted, flipping through the last few doodles Cain had left until she reached a blank page.
Their head went eerily still, nothing but the whistle of wind to answer to. The rest of the world settled in fog as Violet started sketching out a cat from the books she'd been reading.
Cain's prescence — constantly shifting, constantly itching — lingered over Violet's shoulder. She drew a few lines, then tilted her head at it, erased, and tried again. Does that look like a cat ear?
Cain's prescence got a little stronger. Maybe? It looks kind of like a fox.
"Ugh," Violet leaned her head back and sighed before erasing it again.
Before she could try a third time, the bell cut through the air. "Dang it!" Violet hissed, scrambling to unzip their backpack and shove their notebook in its allotted spot before the warning bell went off. Eventually she gave up, zipped it up, and trotted into school.