Chapter Text
The fan hums as Egg leans back on his arms, his legs stretched out in front of him on the patio, the hot summer air breezing past him despite it being nighttime. His skin feels sticky with sweat and sugar from the ice block he had earlier, doing little to cool him down despite it being frozen solid.
He turns to [ ], a smile on his lips as [ ] looks back at him, two young boys giggling in the summer night as crickets chirp in the bushes. Egg points to a small group of glowing fireflies, awe in his eyes as his head wings flutter excitedly.
“Look, [ ]! Fireflies!”
“I thought fireflies were going extinct?” [ ] tilts his head, hair falling over his eyes.
“What? No. Not really, anyways. Only some species.”
“Okay, nerd.” [ ] rolls his eyes fondly as Egg sputters in offence.
This is a fond memory. Well, memory is stretching it considering he can’t even remember the other person, but you get it. They are young in this moment. Young and innocent and not yet tainted by the world, their biggest worry being who was king of the monkey bars and if they were still going to play soccer at the park despite the heatwave. They are immature and irresponsible and gullible, but they are happy, and the world is theirs, and it is all that matters.
All that mattered, anyways.
The alarm blares.
Egg groans, reaching out a hand as he feels around his bedside table for the stupid thing, desperate to stop the annoying sounds it makes.
Seven fifteen, Monday.
New country. Except not really, since his mum said they used to live here when he was younger. Probably the same country as the one in his memory. Dream. Whatever it was. He reminisces as he gets ready, brushing his teeth and washing his face and brushing his (relatively) well-kept hair into its usual style, framing his face.
He wonders who the other kid in his dream was. He wonders if he knew them closely, based on how it seemed they were at either of their houses, munching on iceblocks and feeling the warm fan air that did little to cool them down. He thinks he was maybe…ten? Eleven? Who knows.
He leisurely walks down the stairs, tracing the photoframes that cascade down the wall as he goes down. His parents had told them it was to help him regain his memories from the accident five years ago, but it’s done little to help him. They refused to tell him what happened, exactly, but told him he got long-term amnesia from it, and they moved overseas to go to a multitude of top-rated doctors all over the world. They’re certainly not short on money, but guilt still tugs at his heart, remembering the pained faces of his parents whenever he brought up the accident. Accident, with capital A. Or incident, maybe. He wonders what happened.
He opens the kitchen door as he greets his dad, taking a slice of bread as the man chuckles out a good morning.
“Did Mum go to work already?” Egg says (not as he chews because one, that’s impolite, and two, disgusting).
“Yeah, she’ll be back home late today. Me too, so you’ll have to eat dinner by yourself. Is that alright? I’ll leave some money for you.”
He hums out an answer, glancing at the clock. Seven thirty-four, plenty of time left.
“Are you driving me? Oh, no, they said there was a bus, right?”
“Yeah, just around the corner. I was surprised, but I do suppose this neighbourhood is close enough to the school.”
He is so not excited for this. Transferring schools out of the blue because his mum had a really good business opportunity back in his home country that he can barely remember. Whatever. It’s not like he doesn’t understand, not to mention his parents seemed so hesitant about coming back that he had to convince them he’d be fine.
“Alright, I’m going to head out, bye, Dad!" Egg grabs his bag, waving behind him as his dad calls out a goodbye.
It’s still morning, yet the sun has already started its deadly UV ray attacks on his skin, and wow, is he glad he slathered on two layers of sunscreen today. Well, he supposes it is summer (like his dream. In that specific one, it’s always summer on the patio with sticky fingers and a dusty old fan that barely works). Now, what number was his school bus?
He fiddles with the sleeves of his shirt, already dreading the million questions curious but good meaning teenagers will throw his way on why exactly he had a whole-ass turtleneck undershirt under his summer uniform meant for, you know, summer. That’s his problem to sweat through, thank you.
He scrolls on his phone as he leans on a window, the bus completely empty. It’s not like he expected a lot of people anyways. What was his new school’s name again? Universe High? What kind of name is that, he wonders. A few other kids get on the bus after him on different stops, but none seem to be his age. They’re all a little younger, with squeaky voices and bags way too big on their small bodies. They give him some looks, probably because their peace was disturbed by someone obviously new to the scene. He ignores them. It doesn’t concern him, anyways.
He lets the other kids filter out before grabbing his bag and walking out of the bus, muttering a thanks to the driver as he does so. Before anything, he’ll head to the front office to get his papers correct and then go to his first period. A lady with glasses and eyebags the size of saucers greets him, her voice monotone even with the forced smile on her face. He nods and shakes his head where he has to and then makes sure they have his diagnosis (which, thankfully, they do). So no sports for him! One good thing about having a crazy memory problem is that everyone’s too afraid to let you do something that could possibly make you lose more memories, like getting hit in the face with a basketball.
Unfortunately, his little office trip made him late to his first period, which is a bummer, but she writes his late slip off as non-absent, which is nice. He mutters a thanks, flicking his headwings as she waves him off with a perfunctory ‘Welcome to Universe High School’.
And then he turns back to ask for directions to his class, because where the heck is L5?
He knocks on the door, the chatter in the room not dying down one bit as the teacher, Mister… Craft, was it? Opens the door, a smile on his face.
“Oh, the transfer, right?” Mr Craft steps out of the door, letting the door shut quietly behind him.
“Uh, yeah. This is my late slip, the front office lady gave it to me.” Egg unfolds the small slip, handing it to the man’s open hand.
“No worries! Got lost, did you?” He chuckles, and Egg ducks his head in reply.
“Right, do you want me to, you know, introduce you? Or will you be okay just going in and sitting down?” Egg blinks, surprised at the thoughtful gesture.
“I think I’ll just go and sit down.” Mr Craft nods, a friendly smile decorating his face as he opens the door, letting the angel walk through first.
He shuffles in, ignoring the (curiously) surprised stares and hushed whispers and looking for an empty spot. He spots one next to a demon with a—is that a blindfold? That’s a blindfold. That’s a whole-ass blindfold—you know what. He is not going to judge. He’s dressed like a priest in summer heat. He is the last person to judge someone. And maybe he also has issues with eyesight, like Eggchan.
“Is this seat empty?” He asks, just out of respect (obviously, if it isn’t, he will endure the embarrassment and go to another empty seat).
“Nah, bro. It’s free.” The blindfolded…demon? Tiger? Tiger-demon? Says, waving his hand as his other hand fans his face. “How are you even wearing that, bro?”
Ah, there’s the question.
“I’m not all that hot.” Egg shrugs, placing his bag on the floor as he sits on the empty chair, turning his attention to Mr Craft, who’s explaining the different characteristics and structures of cells in unicellar, colonial, and multicellar organisms.
He ignores the judging look he can just feel radiating behind the blindfold as the tiger-demon leans back and very obviously looks him up and down.
“Right, whatever, bro. My name’s Flamefrags, but you can just call me Flame.” Flame says, flicking open his textbook.
“Eggchan. You can call me Egg.”
“That’s an…interesting name.”
“You’re called Flame, as in, the fire. The chemical process called combustion.”
“Yeah, but it’s auraful.”
“Wha—”
Mr Craft claps his hand once, and Egg jolts as he gives him a knowing (but not unkind) look, then moves on to the next topic. Egg flushes pink, the tip of his head wings warm as he feels embarrassed at being caught.
He focuses on the lesson, despite Flame furiously texting someone next to him. Whatever, it’s not his business.
The period’s nearly over when he feels Flame nudge him, to which he tilts his head slightly towards him as he continues writing.
“What’s your next class?” Flame asks, this time a little mindful of whispering and at least making it look like he was listening.
Right, what did he have again? It was English next, then physical education. Or maybe it was the other way around? He takes a peek at his phone, then turns to Flame.
“Uh, English, then physical education. Why?” He mutters, scratching at his textbook.
Flame clicks his tongue, then types out something on his phone.
“I have maths with Mister Low next, but I have P.E. after that. Who’s your teacher?”
“I think…Mister Conexion?” He says, remembering the unique name.
“Damn. I have it with Mister Pierce. Bro, you know Mr Craft and Mr Pierce are married?”
Egg blinks. What. I mean, he did see a wedding ring on Mr Craft, but what.
“Like…isn’t that workplace dating? Is that allowed?” He asks, genuinely curious. "Also, what’s with their last names?”
“Yeah, we’re pretty chill with that, and I think they didn’t want students knowing, but kinda hard when people find out anyways ‘cus of social media.” Flame scoffs, a smirk on his face as he continues texting. “You got any friends to eat with? If not, come join us in the basketball court. Also gimme your phone, bro."
Egg flutters his head wings, thinking. He wonders why the tiger-demon was being so friendly. He hands over his phone. “Sure. If I can find it, anyways.”
Flame huffs out a laugh, waving him off. “You’ll find it. If not, I think Mapicc and Wemmy—Wemmbu have P.E. with you, so follow him. Uh, they’re both demons.” Wow. Descriptive, much? (He ignores the strange pang in his chest at the name Wemmbu. He wonders what it’s from). Also, this is starting to feel like a high school cartel. Without drugs and violence and murder. He nods, and then the bell rings. Flame is stopped behind as Mr Craft jokingly asks if the hoodie he was wearing was a part of the school uniform. Egg smiles slightly as he hears Flame joke back with the teacher, somehow getting out of receiving a slip.
Now, to go on an adventure called ‘Where could my English classroom possibly be located at?' It’s just called ENG.R4. That’s not helping anyone, and especially not him. He does find an evacuation diagram nearby, though (which he definitely takes a picture of to help him as he gets used to the place.)
As Egg squints at the diagram like it’s going to suddenly come alive and go, 'Yo, by the way, your next class is like, to your left after you make a right turn at the end of the corridor,' he jolts as he feels a tap on his shoulder. He whirls around and comes face to face with a voidling with a rainbow bandana (interesting fashion choice, but he’s got to admit it does compliment the pitch black complexion) and an avian who looks exasperated with said voidling.
“Hi hi hi! Are you lost?” The voidling asks, jumping up and down slightly.
“Yo, yeah. I’m tryna find, uh…ENG.R4." Egg says, squinting at his phone (yes, he did say the period out loud. So what?)
“Oh, we’re heading there right now, so you can follow us.” The avian says, making a ‘follow me’ motion with his hand.
“So! You’re the new transfer, right? Everyone was like, 'Why are we getting a new transfer in the middle of the year? In one of the senior years, too,' and then-” The voidling gets cut off as the avian (gently) slaps a hand on his face, blocking him from speaking further.
“Sorry, he’s chatty. I’m Parrot, by the way. What’s your name?” Parrot asks as they walk up the stairs.
“Eggchan. Egg is fine.” Are his head wings neon green, or is he tripping? He’s tripping, right?
“I’m Spoke!” says Spoke, shaking his head away from Parrot’s hand.
Egg nods his head, fiddling with his cuffs as he continues walking alongside the two, not really saying much. He’s fine with just listening to the two talk. Or, well, argue. Kind of. What’s a Wormhole?
When they arrive at the classroom, Egg follows Parrot to sit next to two other people at the front of the class, both waving at the trio as other kids also trickle in.
“Egg, this is Lomedy and Wifies. Guys, this is Eggchan, or Egg.” Parrot says, patting the table next to him as a gesture to sit down. Egg glances at Spoke, wondering if the voidling would get upset at being pushed to the far edge, but he doesn’t seem to mind, sitting down with a bounce.
They trade pleasantries as they wait for the teacher to arrive (Miss Athena, he thinks it was). He learns a couple new things, like how Parrot was on the school council and Wifies was first in the school for multiple subjects and how Lomedy was in the gardening club and how Spoke was?? Hunting down?? The Mafia??? What????
Parrot tells him to ignore Spoke. Egg thinks he will do exactly that, thanks.
They learn about another one of Shakepeare’s works, which is just. So boring. He’s read most of all the English classics back to back at least three times, so he zones out. English was his best subject, anyways.
He’s in the middle of reciting The Tenant of Wildfell Hall mentally when Spoke slides a piece of paper over to him. He’s drawn a Tic-Tac-Toe board and has crossed out the middle. Egg glances up quickly, making sure the teacher’s back is turned as he draws a circle in the top left corner.
They take turns crossing or drawing circles, making a new board when either wins. It’s fun, he thinks. When they’ve played at least seven times (they end on a one to four, with three draws. He’s terrible at Tic-Tac-Toe damn), and Spoke scratches out a sentence on the corner.
‘BTW u have pe w mape and wube next right??’ Wow. That’s barely legible.
‘Yes. How’d you know?’ He is going to guess based on context clues Mapicc is Mape, and Wemmbu is Wube.
‘looked over ur shoulder LOL’
‘I barely had my phone out for like, 3 seconds?’
‘im just goated like that also just follow them to the basketball court!!’
‘Alright. Flame told me to do that anyways’
‘no way flamey actually talks to other ppl?? wow eggy u r insane also this is my no. just for u ok???’
He’s about to reply when a hand reaches from his other side and quickly snatches the paper away. Egg blinks at Parrot, but the avian just gives Spoke a deadpan as the voidling shrugs, smiling.
“Spoke. Don’t distract Egg on his first day.” Parrot hisses as the teacher goes through the symbolism of Hamlet.
“Did Egg really lose four times to Spoke?” Wifies asks, gently taking away the paper from Parrot’s hands and showing it to Lomedy, who giggles.
“Nah. Egg’s fine with it, see?” Spoke drapes an arm over his shoulder, mindful of his head wings. It should be uncomfortable, hell, it’s definitely impolite and overly friendly for someone he met like, half an hour ago. But Egg is surprised to find he doesn’t mind. Parrot gives him a look, making sure he’s okay with it, before lightly slapping Spoke’s hand, which started poking at the avian.
Parrot opens his mouth to say something but gets interrupted by the bell ringing. Spoke jumps out of his seat, suddenly done with packing up (which, how? Egg definitely saw the textbook sprawled out in front of him like, two seconds ago). Parrot sighs, shaking his head.
As Egg packs his own things up, Wifies comes up to him, smiling gently.
"P.E. with Mr. Conexion, right? I saw it on the paper. My class is on the way, so I’ll show you where the gym is.”
“Oh, thank you, bro.”
“I’m going to head off to History with Lomedy, then.” Parrot waves, Lomedy doing the same as they separate in the corridor.
Egg ignores the continuing stares and whispers that seem to tail him (unnaturally, he might add). Sure, transfers in the middle of the year were weird, but it’s not this weird. Wifies does the same next to him.
“How are you finding it so far in here, Egg?” Wifies asks as they leave the building.
“Oh, it’s fine.” If not a little weird, what with all the friendly people and curious and shocked stares. “You guys like, seem to know each other a lot?”
“Oh, that. It’s just because since the school is like, from grade seven to twelve, everyone just kind of knows each other. Plus, a lot of us are also from the same primary school, since it’s in the same city.”
“Oh, no way, yo. You guys don’t get sick of each other?”
“No, we definitely do. Especially Parrot and Spoke, they’ve been together since, like, grade four? They fight all the time.” Yeah, he definitely noticed that earlier. “But it’s like, familiarity, right? Kind of like a second home, in a way.”
Hm. Egg wonders how that feels. Ever since the accident, he’s barely talked to people around him, scared of the judgement they would eventually show when they see him, really see him, and just as he was starting to actually socialise, he moved to here.
Eventually, they arrive at the gym. Wifies directs him to the changeroom, but Egg just shakes his head, letting other kids pass by him.
“Thanks for the help, dude.”
“No problem, see you!” Wifies says, despite the strange look in his eyes.
Egg sighs, steadying himself, as he opens the door to the gym, spotting the gym teacher, Mr Conexion.
Mr Conexion gives him a questioning look as he walks up, and Egg rubs his arms, suddenly self-conscious.
“I’m, uh, the transfer. I wasn’t sure you heard, but I was told I’d be exempt from any sports.” He says, wringing his hands together.
“Oh! It’s you. Yes, I heard.” Mr Conexion’s accent is heavy as he speaks, but he nods anyways and gestures to the bleachers. “You can do some self-study, but no phone, okay?”
Egg nods, relieved.
He pulls out To Kill a Mockingbird from his bag, leaning against the wall in the corner as he watches people trickle in from the corner of his eyes. He ignores the stares and judging whispers, used to it (he wished it would be different in this school. There’s little comfort in the familiarity of it, he supposes).
Mr Conexion runs the class through some hell drills, if he says so himself. Like, literal hell. (There’s a deathly stare he can feel boring into his skull, but he desperately tries to ignore it, determined to not give them an inch they can take as a mile).
Soon enough, the bell rings, and he watches two shadows cover him. Egg looks up, meeting eyes with a red-horned demon and another demon with two peculiar spots under each eye.
“Egg, right? I’m Mapicc.” The red-horned demon introduces himself, motioning to follow him.
The other one keeps staring, an almost haunted look in his pitch-black eyes, jolting slightly as Mapicc nudges him with an elbow.
“...Wemmbu. You’re…Egg?”
“Uh, yeah. I’m Egg.” He tucks the book back into his bag, hoisting it over his shoulder.
Wemmbu continues staring at him, even as Mapicc starts walking to the changerooms.
"Do you...rem—"
“Wemmbu! Come change, dude.”
“...Yeah, yeah. I’m coming.” Wemmbu turns, then turns back to Egg. “Wait for us here, we’ll be back.”
Egg nods, confused by the reaction.
Egg is holding a dirtied, soiled book. There’s tears in his eyes as the blacked out figure infront of him laughs meanly. He is…eleven, ish? There’s scratches on his arms, his legs, his face. One is dangerously close to his right eye.
The figure reaches out their hands as if to push him but stumbles to the side as they are pushed to the side, [ ] huffing as he yells at the figure.
He is so, so upset. But also relieved, even though Egg knows it is only a temporary solution, there is comfort in knowing that in this cruel place filled with crueller people called school, there is someone who will always be by his side.
At least, he thought so.
“...gg? Egg!”
Egg jolts, quickly dropping his hand that was pressing onto his head, meeting eyes with a concerned Mapicc.
“Bro, you good?”
“...Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Just a headache.”
“Right.”
He wonders what that memory was. He frowns slightly, remembering the ruined book.
The Chronicles of Narnia.
Egg blinks as Wemmbu leaves the change room, bag on his shoulder as he motions for the two to follow.
He wonders what kind of strange people he’ll meet at this illustrious basketball court.