Work Text:
Noelle Holiday is your ordinary girl next door. Her mom's the town mayor, and her family loves Christmas—some people say it's a little too much, but hey, what's wrong with a little festive spirit? She gets good grades, does cross country, and ticks all the boxes a girl like her should tick. She's got a bunch of awesome friends, a big mansion with awesome Christmas decorations, and, of course, her best friend in the whole wide world: Kris Dreemurr.
Kris is her total opposite. They're a human kid the Dreemurrs—her family's friends—adopted. Kris is mischievous—a total prankster. They're the type of kid teachers would say 'has potential', or 'could do a lot if they just took things seriously'—of course, they never do. It's rare Kris takes anything seriously.
If Noelle is the Girl Next Door, Kris is her obligatory childhood best friend and soulmate. Everyone thinks they'd make a perfect pair. Their parents are betting on when they'll get together. The other kids think they'll make a future power couple. Kris is her complement, the knight to her princess, the hero to her damsel.
She tells them things she'd never dare tell anyone else. All her deepest secrets, entrusted in her scrawny little red-eyed confidant.
"I hate it," she says to them on a cheery autumn morning, kicking dirt and watching as it messes up her shoe. "I hate it, Kris."
Kris does not say a word. Their mouth is twisted into a knowing smile.
Kris and Noelle are sitting out at the lake, where their family allowed them to go with a teasing grin as they spoke about how they'd 'best enjoy their date'. Dess gave Kris a scowl and a warning not to mess with Noelle too much.
Kris is a prankster, after all. They're kinda weird. It's par for the course for them.
"Why do you get to be weird, Kris?" Noelle questions.
If Noelle did half the things Kris did, her parents would freak out. Noelle isn't weird, after all. She's the Girl Next Door. She's the sweetheart you go to whenever you lose a pencil. She's the one with the ever eternal kind heart and crinkled smile of understanding. She lends out pencils. She gives out tutoring sessions.
Noelle does not get to so callously engage in chicanery the way Kris does, she does not get to simply disregard what others think. She does not get to pull jumpscares and sleep in class and splash everyone with water and make fun of other people the way they do.
She wants to. She wants to be weird. She shouldn't—because being weird and messing with others isn't what a Noelle does, but she so badly craves the chance to do something for herself, something she wants to do. Something totally crazy, something no one thinks she could ever bring herself to so much as think about.
Kris smiles at her wryly, swinging their legs atop the log on which they sit perched.
She waits for them to speak. They remain silent.
Noelle takes that as a sign to continue.
"You're so... so weird," she says."And everyone knows how weird you are. So... No one cares if you do weird things. You can pull stupid pranks and say mean things and no one'll care, because that's Kris. That's what a Kris does."
Kris remains silent, but in their eyes is an expectant look, signalling for her to continue with her ramble.
"But I'm not a Kris. I'm a Noelle."she says. "And a Noelle has to do Noelle things. A Noelle can't jump out and scream at the teacher. A Noelle can't just call Jockington's hat ugly. Only a Kris can't do that."
Finally, after a few seconds, Kris opens their mouth to speak.
"The grass is always greener on the other side," they say. Noelle huffs. Kris loves to speak in vague platitudes.
"Can you just say what you're thinking without any riddles for once? Gosh!" she says, throwing her hands up in exasperation. Kris tilts their head like a confused puppy.
"I think I was being pretty direct," they say with a shrug. "A Noelle has to do Noelle things, but a Kris has to do Kris things too, y'know?"
Noelle blinks. Kris was... About as direct as Kris can be, really. Noelle honestly finds herself a little taken aback.
But more than that is the implicit admission that they too want to be more like her sometimes. That there are things she gets that they covet.
"You're jealous of me sometimes, Kris?" She can't help but jump at the chance to tease them for it. Kris purses their lips, brows pinched in irritation and face flushed, but they slowly nod, the very action seeming antiethical to their very being.
"Faha! Now that's something I didn't expect."
"...Shut up."
"Aww, you embarrassed, Kris-mas?" Noelle croons. Even though this is probably par for the course, entirely in line with everyone's expectations—it doesn't really matter to her. She likes teasing them, bickering with them. It's something that doesn't feel like just going through the day to day motions.
Maybe it's because they're both aware of the same things. They know how stifling everything feels. It's like in a world of puppets, they're the only ones who can see their strings. And that, at least, feels better than nothing.
A long, comfortable quiet settles between them, no sounds but the soft rippling of water and the occasional breeze. Aftera while, Kris speaks up.
"Have you ever thought about running away?"
Noelle startles at the question.
"Huh?"
"The lake." Kris points to the body of water in front of them both, Noelle's eyes drawn to what seems like an endless expanse. "Haven't you ever wondered what's on the other side?"
It takes a few seconds for the realization to dawn on Noelle, her eyes widening as it hits her.
"Kris!" she says, when it hits her. "We can't just cross the lake, we'd drown!"
"You don't know that," Kris says, an impish grin on their face. "I'm good at swimming. I'll paddle across, doggy style."
"And what about me?" Noelle questions, raising a brow.
"You'll ride on my back," they say, as if it's the biggest stroke of genius anyone's ever had. "Princess."
"..." It's obviously not something that she could ever... seriously think about, but still—Noelle can't help but entertain the idea, in the back of her mind. Kris and her together, swimming across that great big expanse and making their way to a whole new world. One outside all these puppets and strings and confines. One where they aren't just getting shoved into boxes and roles and being told to go through the motions whether they like it or not. One where they're really living, living for themselves and not just doing what other people tell them too.
"Why don't we try it now?" Kris says, grinning. "I'll carry you into the water."
For a second, Noelle almost considers the idea. But as quickly as it comes up, she shoots it down.
They can't do that.
"You'd probably just drop me," she scoffs, watching as they burst into giggles.
At the end of the day, no matter how they hope, they'd probably just drown. And Noelle doesn't have a death wish. No sirree.
"So little faith in me!" Kris says, pressing a hand to their chest in mock hurt. "My heart is broken..."
Noelle rolls her eyes at their joking fit of despair, and they go back to their usual banter.
But the idea lingers with her. She thinks about it, for days on end—it lingers and sticks to the walls of her mind like a burr, stubbornly clinging no matter how hard she tries to shake it off.
The other side of the lake. What would happen if the two of them... somehow made it there? Could they be free? If not, could they at least get a taste of a world without all these chains?
It's an awfully compelling idea. Noelle finds herself thinking about it more often than not—during all those days where she just has to go through the motions, a passenger in her own body. Her mind drifts to the lake, to the world where she and Kris are able to cross it together and see for themselves a horizon. A world where she gets to pull the pranks and fail her tests and take people's lunch money and insult their hats and do everything that a Noelle can't do.
But her life is... comfortable. She should be grateful for what she has. Noelle has great friends and a well off family and a huge house and all the games money can buy.
She shouldn't rock the boat too much.
Then comes the incident.
She doesn't remember much of it—One moment she's going through the motions as she always is, and the next, she's at the police station.
Dess is missing.
If it was bad before, it's far worse now. Noelle goes through the motions. She has to go through the motions.
But Dess is gone now. Dad is getting sick. Their friendship with the Dreemurrs is breaking apart.
…Maybe it's better to rock the boat, Noelle thinks. Maybe they should do something crazy. Something that'll make it all change.
Noelle pauses outside the house door one day—she's locked out again. Normally, she'd just… Wait for Mom to come back with the key—Kris used to be there to pick the lock for her, but they've been avoiding her lately.
And Mom's been forgetting her key more often, too. Noelle knows it isn't personal, that her mother really does love her. That thought doesn't do too much
But this time, in a moment of impulse, she takes matters into her own hands.
Noelle's body moves before her brain. It's not a sudden action—One of those moments that changes your life forever in the span of a single blink—No.
She walks towards the lake. It's slow, and her steps are measured, and Noelle's brain is on board with her body.
And by the edge between shore and water, legs dangling off the slop of an old log, sits Kris Dreemurr.
They've been laconic as of late—Ever so avoidant. She wonders if it's their own attempt to find freedom from these strings—If attempting breaking the bond they've made is their way of breaking the ties that bind them down.
Or maybe she's just reading too much into things. Yeah, that's probably it. Kris is probably just feeling guilty or whatever. As stoic as they try to act sometimes, Kris is actually pretty softhearted—They blame themself for the silliest things.
Berdly called them a tsundere because of that, one time. They… weren't the hugest fan of that. Kris really hates anime. That's another funny thing about them—They have bright red eyes and love making overdramatic battle poses and walking around with that kitchen knife, but they hate the very medium that so often represents these sorts of things.
Berdly's speculated they're 'a closet otaku'. Honestly, Noelle thinks he might just be right on the money. Kris is definitely the sort of person to try and hide that sort of interest because they're trying too hard to 'look cool' or whatever.
"Heya, Kris!" she says at last, her voice so even that it scares her. Not because she sounds frightening or cold, but because she sounds like nothing happen, like this is an ordinary day. Like she's the Girl Next Door talking to her Prankster Best Friend.
"..." Kris looks at her, their eyes widening. Though they say nothing, the way their fist curls around a speck of wood, hold tight enough to give them splinters—it tells her everything she needs to know.
"Gosh," she says. "I haven't seen you around in a while. It feels like forever since we last got the chance to talk alone like this, faha!"
Kris bites their lip. Noelle sees, just barely, if she squints, a tinge of dark red adorning their lips. Makeshift lipstick, she thinks.
It looks good on them.
"It's nice," she says. It's quieter than everything else she's been saying, more muted, less chipper. "Mom's been driving me up the wall lately, y'know?"
Kris says nothing.
"I know she just wants what's best for me, but... It's just—she's so overprotective, y'know?" Noelle says. "And even though she freaks out if I don't remember to text her every other minute, she can't even remember to unlock the door for me half the time. Gosh, it sounds crazy!"
Kris remains silent—stiflingly silent, and yet they do not move away. Maintaining a status quo yet again, the nature of these conversations they've so often had where Noelle vents and the offer quietude and the occasional cryptic commentary.
Noelle feels like the box she's stuck in is suffocating her—oxygen will soon be a luxury if she doesn't do something soon, figure out a way to get out—!
She thinks about growing wings. About fluttering them with enough power to break the box apart, and flying away from it all. Like an angel. Like a bird.
"Kris," she says at last, giving in to the impulses that nag at her. "...Have you ever wanted to do something crazy?"
Kris, for the first time since that day, looks at her—Really looks at her and not just that Girl Next Door. The beating girl that bleed in its thorned cage. For once, their eyes are not on the Noelle that plows along doing Noelle things, but on her.
Maybe it was her cadence. Maybe the words were just off-script. Or maybe, they've cottoned on to her intentions.
"Kris," she continues. "Remember when we used to play pretend together?"
Kris relaxes slightly at that, though the tension remains in their form.
"You always had me be the princess, and you'd be the knight," she says. "One day, I told you I wanted to be the knight. Do you remember why, Kris?"
Their eyes widen dimly in recognition, worry flitting across their feature. Instinctively, almost, they stagger back.
It's sickening how good that feels, how much Noelle likes being the terror and not the terrified. Maybe this is how Kris feels while pulling their pranks.
...Yeah. After all, it's not like she'd ever actually hurt them.
"I told you I wanted to be the powerful one, for once," she says. "And do you remember what you told me?"
Kris says nothing. Noelle, as she always has, takes that as her prompt to continue.
"You told the princess was even stronger," she says. "The princess could do anything. She could make miracles happen. The knight just had to listen to her."
She remembers just how ecstatic she'd been at that, how much she'd used it against Kris. Time and time again, she'd found herself making Kris do the silliest things by just claiming it was the princess's orders—And Dess always held them to it, because 'they were the one who brought that up in the first place, after all'.
"…I still remember using that to make you run laps around Hometown in an ICE-E costume, faha," she says. "And then, while I was watching you do it, you started chasing after me waving your knife around! I was terrified!"
"…" After all this, still, Kris says nothing. That's okay.
Maybe they don't need to.
"Kris." She walks towards the shoreline. "Take my hand."
Kris hesitates—But like the Knight to her Princess, like the Mischievous Childhood Best Friend With a Loyal Heart to her Girl Next Door—they stand up at her behest.
Despite their stoic expression, a trembling hand clasps onto her stead hoof and betrays their true nerves.
"Follow me, Kris." But still… They trusted her. If the two of them can just listen… They can get out of here.
None of this feels real. Noelle knows she can break it, break the boundaries and do something no one's ever seen before—She just needs to try.
Noelle takes a step into the water. Her expensive shoes are getting wet, likely soiled. But she doesn't care. That won't matter any more. They just need to do this. Together.
Kris takes a step closer.
"Noelle?" They finally break their silence.
Noelle takes another step into the water—A larger stride, this time, enough to drag them in, ankle deep.
"…"
"Faha, sorry about getting your clothes wet," she says. But that won't matter soon. The two of them just need to get out of here, to get to the other side.
"What are you trying to do?" Kris says, devoid of any of the witty quips or snarky remarks they ordinarily offer up freely.
"The lake." Noelle says. "You wanted to see the other side, right? Follow me."
She takes another step. Her knees are submerged now. Kris does not protest.
Another step. Kris's knees are under the water.
Another step. Her legs are fully submerged.
Another step—Torso, a quarter of the way. Another step—Torso, halfway. Torso, three quarters of the way. Torso, seven eights of the way. Torso, fully submerged. Neck, halfway. Neck, fully submerged.
Chin—
"Stop!"
An ear-piercing scream halts her in her tracks. It's Kris, eyes blown wide with panic like she's never seen them before. They wrench their hand out of her grasp and grab her, swimming at full speed with her on their back until they reach land again.
"Noelle…" they set her down gingerly, checking her in a frenzy for any signs of vital damage. They find none—She didn't go deep enough for that.
"…You're a really good swimmer, Kris." They would be, wouldn't they? They're The Stoic. The Cool. The Composed. Effortless abilities are a part of their role.
"Noelle, you—" Kris's voice cracks. "You were about to get yourself killed."
She wouldn't have, Noelle thinks. Not if they'd just trusted her. If they'd just trusted that she knew what she was doing, that crossing the lake would break the mould and get them some place no one had ever gone before.
"You listened to me," Noelle says, her voice blank. They did. They listened to her for so long, gave her all that false hope, only to turn back when they were so close.
The silent question is presented—Why'd you do it? Why didn't you say something earlier?
"…" But she knows why.
Because they are a Kris. And a Kris is loyal to their Noelle, and they will listen to her silly little ideas until the Noelle gets too carried away, at which point they will intervene and reel her back—What a surprisingly responsible Kris they are.
Noelle feels like she's waking up from a dream, snapping out of a daze.
…Right. How foolish she was to think she could ever break free from her strings, do something crazy. A Noelle is just a Noelle. A Kris is just a Kris. None of her pipe-dreams will ever change that.
"…Faha," she says, plastering on her cheer. "Sorry, Kris. I got carried away! I… I didn't mean to get you in trouble."
Kris looks aside, lips pressed into their equivalent of a frown. Noelle doesn't get it—She's being Noelle again. Isn't that what they wanted from her? For her to stop trying to break free?
Why aren't they happy?
"I just…" she says. "I really thought that if we just kept pushing… We'd get to the other side. See a world like nothing we've ever even dreamed of."
No response.
"I'm sorry," she says. "I probably shouldn't've dragged you into this, faha…"
"No," Kris says. "I'm sorry."
Now isn't that just typical for a Kris to say? Noelle is sure she can predict their response, too.
"For what?" she asks.
For everything.
"For everything." They prove her right. It really doesn't feel good. "…Mom's probably wondering where I am. I have to go."
Of course.
"I'll seeya around?" Noelle offers, with her Girl Next Door friendly wave.
Kris doesn't offer a response. They simply walk away, leaving her with wet clothes and a completely unchanged status quo.
…Of course. There's no point in trying to rock the boat. Just go through the motions as she always does.
Nothing changes.
She walks back home and apologizes to Mom for getting her clothes wet—Lies and says she fell in the lake. Mom scolds her for it, tells her to get changed.
She goes to school the next day—Kris is still maintaining their distance, avoiding her as they have been, not even addressing the events that took place between them at the lake.
Nothing changes.
Weeks become months become years. Noelle can't tell the difference between the days any more. She's just a Noelle that does Noelle things.
And Kris does Kris things, too—Pointedly away from her. She thinks about that day at the lake, how they wordlessly followed until the very end despite their obvious discontent.
Noelle wonders if Kris ever really cared about her at all—Or did they just follow her around because that was what a Kris was supposed to do?
Maybe they cold avoidance gives her the answer.
Noelle pauses every time she looks at her wallpaper of them, every time her gaze falls on Krismas the cactus, every time something silly happens that reminds her of a fond memory from times long gone. She lets her mind find sanctuary in those better day while her body gets her through the day.
And sometimes, she thinks about what would've happened if Kris had just followed her all the way, if they hadn't stopped her.
The strings the make them all dance are like rubber bands, after all. If you pull hard enough, you'll break them, find freedom from this performance.
But anything less than that, and they'll just snap back to where they were before, as if you hadn't pulled in the first place.
In the end, nothing had really changed.
She'd just gotten carried away.