Chapter Text
"And that's a wrap!"
"Kehehe! Thanks for the session, you two!"
"That's what club's for, no? Anywho, see you two later!"
His fingers felt numb after playing so long. That was a good thing, though, right? It meant he was playing good. They pulsed with rivets from the guitar strings digging into his fingertips, and yet... Cater payed no mind to it. He simply let them sting, each rush of blood through them with each beat of his heart telling him how foolishly mortal he was.
Sure, he loved his bandmates, they were so fun! And... he loved playing his guitar- the one thing detached from his cutesy-controlled life! Yet... a cold, hollow feeling emanated from his chest, like he hadn't been the one to feel his feelings, like they were someone else's, never his own. It often happened, this detached feeling.
Perhaps this was a side effect of his Unique Magic. How was he even sure he was the real Cater? Was there ever... one in the first place? He'd been moulded to do as asked: be sociable, be cute, be kind. All pressed into him, embossed, branded into him like a cattle stamp. His life was bound by culture not his own.
But no matter! He shouldn't dwell. It was so not 'Cater' to dwell on those sorts of things. He dusted himself off, brushing those sore fingers against his jacket, and put his guitar back in its case. Sighing, left the band room with a soft click of the door. It was like crossing a threshold; once crossed, the mask had to rise, porcelain and forever frozen in bubbly extroverted happiness.
~~~~~
Slumping down on his bed, Cater nearly dropped his phone on his face. He was so... tired. If he just laid there, would it be a bad thing? Wasting away on his bed, never going anywhere. He'd have to leave eventually, though. He never stayed in one place forever. When that happened, he'd just accept it like every other time.
Did he even want to go to eat? Sure, Trey's stuff was good, but he didn't want to move. Perhaps he should just keep scrolling on Magicam. It was easy to pretend to be someone else on there. He had put up about ten posts already that day, one each hour. Had he even slept? It was... 5pm. That meant he was posting from 7am. He didn't even want to do that; his fingers still hurt, throbbing with pulses from his guitar strings digging into him.
They had bled before, so it was not the worst they had ever been. One time he had to spend an evening cleaning his guitar off because he spent so long practicing his fingers bled. It wasn't as though anyone would be bothered with the kid who would just leave a few months into the year if he wasn't interesting. Cater thought back to that afternoon... it was back in his first year at NRC.
?◇◆◇◆◇¿
Despite his fears of leaving as quick as he arrived, Cater tentatively opened the door to the music club, lugging his snowy white guitar in its case behind him. There were around five others... including his housewarden. They were all arguing about something, so he wondered if it would be worth actually walking in at that moment.
But 'Bubbly Cater' had other plans.
"Hey!- Wait, you're Housewarden Jester! Hi! I hope I'm not impeding or anything, squad. I'm Cater Diamond; Heartslabyul first-year! I was wondering if I could, y'know, play some strings? I brought my bestie with me to aud' if I need to!"
All eyes locked on him, a posse of students like predators circling a snack. It made Cater shrink slightly, but he kept up the hightened personality despite the churning anxiety.
The leader, Cater's own housewarden, was stood directly in his line of sight. Icy grey hair, light, bright, contrasting with his dark eye- the one the first-year could see- its deep indigo sharp and cold. His face was half obscured by his thick, golden scarf, making his face appear even harsher. Instead of a blazer, he wore a tainted blue woolen jacket, flowing down just past his hips. His tie dripped down from his collar, loose, almost untied, pointing towards his red lace-up boots. Harlee Jester, third-year housewarden of Heartslabyul.
"Oi, Harlee, who's this little kid?"
One boy piped up, short, with pink cropped hair and bright heterochromic eyes. He was an Ignihyde student, and Cater knew him from Trey's classes. If he thought back, his name was... Petros. Yeah, Petros Vulcan! He was stood towards the back of the studio, a pair of drumsticks clutched in his hands, likely for the large grey drumkit deconstructed nearby.
"It's not like you're much different in age, Pet..."
"Oh bla-bla, Pey. Don't you 'Pet' me at school! You're not even my brother!"
He had begun to argue with another boy, one Cater did not recognise. He had long ponytail-ed teal hair, pointed into two small horns before his bangs started, shrouding two sharp, angular eyes of lemon yellow. He also wore a blue waistcoat: an Ignihyde student, with his uniform neatly presented, nothing like most of the Heartslabyul students...
Harlee stepped away from his mic stand, holding his worn blue guitar steady between his hands. He looked his freshman up and down, making Cater gulp slightly.
"H-Hey, Housewarden? Cay-Cay's p. uncomfy with this whole vibe..! Can you stop your thousand-yard stare..? I-I can go..!"
Stepping back towards the door, Cater gulped, almost pushed against it. He shrank under the glare of the third-year, still smiling, but it faltered slightly as his mask loosened. Jeez, he was scary! He watched Harlee get even closer, his scarf obscuring the hot breath that would be puffing over the first-year's face. What was he going to do?-
The housewarden relented, hand on his hip, stood back up and leant on his arm's weight. Cater had to stifle a sight of relief as his anxiety began to fade.
"You wanna join the Light Music Club? Heh, sure you're nothin' more than a pretty face, Cay-Kun?"
"E-Eh?! Of course I am! Look, I can show you peeps some shredding! I've been practicing practically my whole life dudes!"
Harlee raised an eyebrow at Cater's insolence, but wafted his hand to signal he was free to embarrass himself. Enthusiasm stirred within the first-year, and he quickly hurried to connect his guitar up.
He'd pick an impressive one, he thought to himself, one that would show off all his skills! Yeah! Pulling his guitar over his shoulder properly, Cater turned on the switch, and placed his hands in position. He watched Harlee step back, and he took a deep breath. All he had to do was prove himself!
So he played, plucking strings with his pick with such speed and vigour it was hard to keep track of, only the harmonious melody of song evidence of his playing. Everything was drowning out of Cater's ears, only the sound of the blood rushing through him, vigour and desperation blooming in his chest. He'd never actually wanted anything like this for himself before, so the rush was wild and free. He felt... himself, for the first time in his life.
He kept playing, kept moving between chords, kept trying to impress the sour-faced housewarden in front of him. No matter if his fingers hurt, pulsing with energy, he kept playing. Even if they stung, he kept playing. Even if they seared... with pain.
He kept... playing.
"Ha... ha...- How was that, you guys? Was Cay-Cay just dazzling?"
No one responded. Looking up from his guitar, Cater could see their faces. Stunned, quiet, completely rigid. The shortest of the crew, a bat fae with long purple hair and lemon-yellow eyes, looked concerned, lightly fearful. He leaned on his crutch, wooden leg bowing slightly, strained as he stood. He looked like he was debating hobbling over.
Harlee did not move, either. His face was even more obscured by the scarf, and it shrouded in even more darkness. Was he not impressed? He was walking over, oh crud! Cater stood, trembling, as his housewarden grew closer and closer, ever more annoyed with each step, no doubt. He braced for the shouting that would follow, the rejection.
"Lead guitar's all yours. Get lost before I change my mind. And clean up, no one wants to see a dirty guitar perform."
"H-Huh..? What'cha mean? Cay-Cay's always taken super good care of his guitar-"
Oh, for the Seven. He looked down, and almost immediately knew why he'd been pushed out. The soft ivory of his guitar was tainted. Tainted with the orange-red stain of blood. It had trickled down from the black fretboard, the silver strings glistening with fresh crimson. Almost the entire body was coated in the mess. His pick had turned red from its original grey, there was so much of it.
Cater felt flushed, felt sick. He felt his face burning, yet drained of all blood. All he could feel was the pulse throbbing in his fingers as he registered the pain. His hand seared, and he pulled it from his guitar as to not spread it over the body, not wanting to contaminate it further.
"Th-Thanks, b-but can y'all excuse Cay-Cay? Gotta go rq! TTYL gang..!"
Brushing off the pain with a smile, Cater turned on his heels, pushing the door shut and smearing blood over the handle like a marker. As soon as he closed it, he started running, embarrassed panic swallowing him whole. He had just made a fool of himself in the one place he could have been himself! How stupid was that?! He could barely breathe as he ran.
Ran... all the way back to Heartslabyul. All the way back to his room.
Slamming the door shut, Cater gulped down breaths like they were limited, trembling with engulfing anxiety and embarrassment. He threw his guitar at his bed, staining handprints onto its side. It landed with a thunk, and the first-year slumped against the door.
He wanted to shrink, shrivel into nothing, curl up into a ball and dissappear. He drew his knees in, coughing up breaths of shaky terror; his hands now fully stained that horrid vermillion colour. It smudged across his palms, orange and red stains spread across the skin like a brand. He wanted to obscure his face, but the crimson would just stick to him, and that was more suspicious! Tears couldn't even make their ways out of his eyes, how stupid!
*THUNK!* *THUNK!*
Loud thudding overcame his senses as the door rattled against his back. Oh the joy of having a shared room. He had forgotten first club meets had finished in his panic, meaning all of his dormmates were likely on their way back. Even worse, someone was trying to force their way inside! What was he supposed to do?
"Ha... just my luck, door's stuck. Housewarden isn't even back yet..."
That was... which one again- Trey! It was Trey Clover. He was nice, but no one in the dorm was nice enough to stop... this! He couldn't even breathe, or he'd be found out having a panic attack over messing up a song! How pathetic would that be? Cater sat against the door, shaking with terror, as his bloodstained hands quivered harshly.
"Eh..? Is someone in there? Hey, real funny of you to lock the door... I gotta get changed for the garden party..."
Now he surely was in trouble. Trey knew someone was inside, so now there was no hiding. What could he do? Scramble to hide his guitar? Wash his hands? The bathroom was too far for that to happen. He was trapped, he had lost his cards. Why in the world would he have thought it okay to just sit there?!
"You're not holding it very well... I can just- push... it..! There!"
Springing to his feet, Cater feared being found out, so hid his hands behind his back, spreading crimson across both dorsals simultaneously as he wrung them out between each other. He watched the door creak open, eyes glancing towards the spots of blood by the frame. Trey was never going to notice two dark spots on a dark hardwood floor! There was no way, he was practically blind without his glasses, so why would he see such a small detail even with glasses?
"Hey, what was that about? Did you block the door-"
"Cater- Cay-Cay! I musta been, soz, my guy! Haha!"
"Oh, I see..."
His face looked like he didn't buy it, however, not even annoyance on his face. He simply stepped into the room, wandering over to his bed, and began to change himself behind the comfort of his own bedcurtain. Cater had not even had to change into his dorm uniform for the meet?- No wonder the rest of the students there looked so informal. Now he probably looked like a try-hard, too!
Yet another thing he had not accounted for: the curtains of the beds were slightly sheer. All he had done was move his hands slightly; Cater hadn't even been aware of what he had done until he noticed Trey's frozen frame behind the fabric.
"Are... you alright, Cater..?"
"E-Eh..? What d'ya mean, silly? Cay-Cay's all good, 'kay?"
"What's... on that guitar? Is that yours?"
It wasn't even his hands?! The sharp sting his throbbing, bruised hands were pulsing with didn't even matter? It only mattered that it was on his guitar? A hunk of metal, wood, and plastic, one he... wouldn't even get replaced if he asked on account of it not being 'cute' by his family standards. That makes it worth that much more than him, then, doesn't it?
He had to do something, no way he could leave it, but Trey was right there! What was ge supposed to do? Was he supposed to just go 'yeah, I messed up, now there's blood everywhere and I can't touch anything or it'll get everywhere'?
"What-"
Was he supposed to say 'I'll never get in a club because I messed up this one's'?
"Wh-"
Was he supposed to say 'No one actually gives a damn when the leader and the club members don't even like me-'
"Cater-"
What was he supposed to do-
"Cater!"
He blinked a few times, his vision slightly blurred, as his heaving chest began to even out. Something was buzzing on his shoulder like needles. Not a pain, just a discomfort. He jolted at the feeling, fully bringing himself to.
Trey was stood right in front of him, amber eyes filled with only a familial kind of worry. They weren't that close, they never would be, and yet... there was something warm about his features. Cater couldn't remember the last time he had felt that warmth. It startled him, but it was welcomingly calming.
"What are you talking about, Cater?"
"I...-"
"And for Seven's sake, you're- you're bleeding! How long has this been left?"
"W-Well-"
"Nevermind that, we're heading to the first aid cupboard, okay?"
"M-M-"
He was practically dragged out of the room as Trey took him, not caring about the smear of blood on his own palm, to the kitchen. It was a wonder he knew how to navigate the dorm already, with all it's twists and turns, but he got it right.
He had situated Cater on one of the island stools, palms up so he could check the damage. There were flaps of skin covering the wounds, but several indented slits of bright red were visible on the ginger boy's fingertips. There was another over one of his palms, thin and shallower than the others, more likely a singular wound. The others, however, were more like several wounds deep, only over the same place again and again. Thankfully, to Trey, it didn't look like a typically intentional wound style, so he could rule out Cater having harmed himself.
Wandering over to the table, the green boy situated himself on the stool next to his dormmate, clacking a bottle and a sheet of bandaids on the side. The sound made Cater jump slightly as it hit harshly on the counter. He wasn't scared of loud noises- not really- but it still startled him, and Trey sat back, rather than attempting to dive straight in.
"Can I... take a proper look?"
"Seriously, Trey- i-it's fine! I just got into a teensy bit of t-trouble..! Nothing I can't handle, you worrywart!"
"Then why was it everywhere..? Why was it left without something to stop it?"
"You're making a mountain out of a molehill, Cay-Cay is okay-kay!"
Holding his hand out, Trey let out a breath, sighing, as he took Cater's hand in his grasp. Taking a washcloth from inside the cupboard, he doused the heart-patterned fabric in the liquid in the bottle. Holding it above the bloody hand, he looked towards his dormmate with a soft gaze.
"It's gonna sting, you alright with that?"
"Now you're giving me choices? Haha, you really are funny, Trey. Fine..."
As he pressed the cloth against his palm, Trey watched Cater flinch slightly as the cold liquid touched his bare skin. He chuckled slightly, quickly stifling himself as the ginger boy pouted.
"H-Hey..! Not cool, why are you laughing?"
"S-Sorry... It's just, I've not even touched it yet..."
"Ugh... just get on with it... you're killing me with the suspense!"
Yet, as soon as he moved the cloth the his fingers, Cater winced, making Trey lift the cloth to not cause so much pain. The ginger let out a shaky breath, letting the disinfectant seep into his flesh. It felt like needles in his fingertips, making his hand jolt involuntarily as it caused discomfort.
"Just a mishap, keep going..!"
"If you say so...- Cater?"
"Hm..?"
His head perked up, distracted from the sharp pains in his hands, as he focused on Trey's words.
"Why... were you bleeding so much..?"
"Oh..!"
They were straight into the discussion, were they? Well, he could always just... twist the truth...
"Well... I was trying to get into the... music club, and the Housewarden was pretty strict, y'know! Nothing like he is here, real silver lining, haha! So I overdid it, 'kay?"
"No, not okay." *Haa...* "If every meet results in you coming back bleeding, when Crewel does his science and arts audit, he'll surely shut it down."
"Wait, they do audits on the clubs?"
"Yeah, he told us at the start of the meet; I don't know if all clubs have teachers supervise, but if they do, you should have known about it. I know the Headmage surveys the astronomy and newspaper clubs, Trein the humanities clubs like history, literature and debate, and obviously Vargas the sports teams. I'm assuming the music club falls under Crewel's roster."
"No, we don't have a teacher there. It's just me, um- I think it was Vulcan, Housewarden, a second-year, and two other third-... years."
"Ah, yes, I think I understand who you mean."
Cater's breath hitched as Trey brushed past a particularly deep sore, but bit back the full pain with his sharp tooth sinking into his lips. He flinched as the flap of skin rolled over his fingertip, and reclined his hand away from the cloth. The green boy's gaze softened, and he removed the washcloth to the drawer. He reached for the bandaids, peeling off the backs of the first, and placed it over the wound. Fresh gauze always stung, but he powered through, 'Bubbly Cater' seeping back through with everything he felt. Trey didn't have to see 'Sad Cater' again. After all, it wasn't as though he'd be allowed to live at the school for much longer...
Right?
"Thanks, Trey-Trey~! I'm feeling all a lot better now- oh crud! I'd better go clean my guitar, or the Housewarden will kill me! Gotta go!"
With his newly wrapped hands and an odd, bitter warmth in his chest, Cater made his way back to his dorm room. It wouldn't be too much of a problem now that he thought on it; Harlee could just retake his place once he was gone, after all.