Chapter Text
“you’ll like it, i promise.”
knife hears his aunt say from the living room behind him. he stares at the brochure in his hand, focusing on the outfits the kids are wearing on the cover. he glances up the stairs before turning back to the living room, throwing the paper booklet onto the coffee table.
“it has a uniform.”
he states plainly, giving his aunty on the couch a blank stare.
she sighs and rises from her seat, walking over to him and placing her hands on his shoulders.
“can you please just give it a go? i know things are… difficult, right now… but i really need you to work with me here. just make this easier for the both of us and… do your best.”
she finishes, giving his shoulder a firm pat before she retreats to the kitchen without waiting a single second for a response. knife stands there for a moment before rolling his eyes and walking upstairs to his room.
he shuts the door behind him once he enters his rather empty bedroom. he looks around at the barren walls for a moment, the ones that would be completely covered with posters had things been different. that’s probably the only thing he misses about living with his mom and dad; how cool his room was. whatever, he’ll just have to restart. he’ll get there eventually.
he flops down onto the bed in the corner, zoning out as he stares at the ceiling above.’i promise’. how was she supposed to know if he’d like a school or not? promises never mean anything anyway. he once made a promise to pay back his sister and he never did. he didn’t even think about it for weeks. she never brought it up again, he hoped she wouldn’t. and she never did !! so promises are just flimsy verbal agreements that could be compared to a deal made between two people that have their fingers crossed behind their backs. or in other words, a lie. that’s how knife sees it, anyway. that’s how he sees a lot of things. he decides not to dwell on that thought process too much before he starts talking aloud to himself again about how the human race is the most disgusting thing he’s ever had the displeasure of knowing.
that’s right, this started from thinking about a new school. he’s going to a new school. with a uniform. a new school with a uniform and a bunch of kids he won’t know and probably won’t like.
sometimes he wishes he was homeschooled.
- . * ~ ☆ ~ * .·
pickle has been crying in this bathroom stall for around 15 minutes now.
he’s memorized all the drawings and writing on the walls by now. or at least their vague outlines considering his vision has been blurred by tears the whole time he’s been in here.
he just can’t believe it. it had been fake? all of it? she really didn’t care about anything they had done together? and now it’s just… over. he’s never seeing her again. he should probably feel happy about that considering what just went down, but that was 2 years flushed down the drain !! 2 years with someone he thought was his best friend. turns out his best friend never existed.
he’s so confused. why did she stay then? did she just hate him enough to want to mess with him? the thought makes his heart feel like it’s being ripped out of his body and squeezed ‘til it bursts. she said they were never friends. she said she was just using him, that he was an idiot for believing her.
her words echo through his mind.
‘life is a social climb, pickle. you were just the lowest rung on my ladder.’
maybe she did hate him. he doesn’t want to hate her, though. not at the moment at least. everything is too fresh to think about her in a negative light. he’s too busy missing all the times he had with her. missing the version of her that wasn’t real. the one that joked around with him in their french class. the one he’d plan so many hangouts for. the one that would eat lemons whole then spit the seeds out at him. he still has no idea how she did that.
he sniffles and rests his head against the wall beside him, quickly taking it off when he remembers he’s in a school bathroom and it’s probably dirty as hell. whatever, he needs a shower tonight anyway. he rests his chin on top of his palms, staring sadly at his shoes. he hates that his school has a uniform. he hates that they have control over what colour shoes you can and can’t wear. he hates the school bathrooms. he hates the school. he hates the people here.
he hates taco.