<header>
<div class="decoration-i">✦</div>
<div class="decoration-ii">✦</div>
<div class="decoration-iii">✦</div>
<div class="decoration-v">✦</div>
<div id="header-top">
<!-- SOCIAL MEDIA ICONS (POPULATED IN THE social media PASSAGE) -->
<nav class="social-media" data-passage="social media">
</nav>
<link rel="preconnect" href="https://fonts.googleapis.com">
<link rel="preconnect" href="https://fonts.gstatic.com" crossorigin>
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=IM+Fell+English+SC&family=IM+Fell+English:ital@0;1&display=swap" rel="stylesheet">
<div class="middle">
<!-- STORY TITLE ETC. WHEN MENU IS CLOSED -->
<div class="title" data-passage="story title">
</div>
<!-- OPEN MENU ICON -->
<span id="menu-toggle">
<i class="lnr lnr-chevron-down"></i>
</span>
</div>
<!-- SETTINGS, RESTART, SAVE & FULLSCREEN BUTTONS -->
<nav class="tools">
<span id="header-settings-button"><i class="lnr lnr-cog"></i></span>
<span id="header-restart-button"><i class="lnr lnr-undo"></i></span>
<span id="header-saves-button"><i class="lnr lnr-download"></i></span>
<span id="header-fullscreen-button"><i class="lnr lnr-frame-expand"></i></span>
</nav>
</div>
<div id="header-body">
<div class="content">
<!-- SETTINGS, RESTART, SAVE & FULLSCREEN BUTTONS -->
<nav class="tools">
<span id="menu-settings-button"><i class="lnr lnr-cog"></i></span>
<span id="menu-restart-button"><i class="lnr lnr-undo"></i></span>
<span id="menu-saves-button"><i class="lnr lnr-download"></i></span>
<span id="menu-fullscreen-button"><i class="lnr lnr-frame-expand"></i></span>
</nav>
<!-- STORY LOGO (POPULATED IN THE story logo PASSAGE) -->
<div class="logo-image" data-passage="story logo">
</div>
<!-- STORY LINKS (POPULATED IN THE story links PASSAGE) -->
<ul id="story-menu" data-passage="story links">
</ul>
<!-- SOCIAL MEDIA ICONS (POPULATED IN THE social media PASSAGE) -->
<div class="social-media" data-passage="social media">
</div>
</div>
</div> <!-- header body end tag -->
</header>
<div id="main">
<div class="decoration-separator">
<span>✦</span>
<span>✦</span>
<span>✦</span>
<span>✦</span>
</div>
<div id="passages">
</div>
<div class="decoration-separator">
<span>✦</span>
<span>✦</span>
<span>✦</span>
<span>✦</span>
</div>
</div> <!-- #main -->
<footer>
<!-- BACKWARDS AND FORWARDS BUTTONS, YOU CAN REMOVE THIS IF YOU DON'T WANT THEM IN YOUR STORY -->
<span id="backwards-button"><i class="lnr lnr-chevron-left"></i></span>
<span>✦</span>
<span id="forwards-button"><i class="lnr lnr-chevron-right"></i></span>
</footer>// FOR SETTING STATS THAT NEED TO BE IN PLAY AT THE START OF THE STORY
<<set $C_name to "C";
$C_middle to "A";
$C_friendship to 20;
$C_romance to 0;
$C_oblivious to 0;
$V_name to "V";
$V_middle to "K";
$V_friendship to 40;
$V_romance to 0;
$V_oblivious to 0;
$W_name to "W";
$W_middle to "J";
$W_friendship to 40;
$W_romance to 0;
$W_oblivious to 0;
$M_name to "M";
$M_middle to "E";
$M_friendship to 40;
$M_romance to 0;
$M_oblivious to 0;
$D_name to "D";
$D_middle to "C";
$D_friendship to 40;
$D_romance to 0;
$D_oblivious to 0;
$A_name to "A";
$A_friendship to 10;
$A_romance to 0;
$A_oblivious to 0>>
<<set $Friendly to 50;
$Aloof to 50;
$Sarcastic to 50;
$Genuine to 50;
$Arrogant to 50;
$Humble to 50;
$Laidback to 50;
$Uptight to 50;
$Intuitive to 50;
$Strategic to 50;
$Pragmatic to 50;
$Emotional to 50;
$Shy to 50;
$Bold to 50;
$Cautious to 50;
$Impulsive to 50;
$Introvert to 50;
$Extrovert to 50;
$Optimist to 50;
$Pessimist to 50>>
<<set $MC_middlename to ""; $MC_fatalflaw to "Unknown"; $MC_program to "Unknown"; $MC_favoritedrink to "Unknown"; $MC_ch3breakfast to "Unknown"; $MC_ch3breakfastdrink to "Unknown"; $MC_height to "Unknown"; $MC_Mr to "Unknown"; $MC_pronouns to "Unknown"; $MC_gender to "Unknown">>
/*MC TEST STATS*/
/*<<set $MC_firstname to "Cerviel";
$MC_middlename to "";
$MC_surname to "Liadon";
$MC_nickname to "Vie";
$MC_son to "child";
$MC_gender to "non-binary";
$MC_pronouns to "They/Them/Theirs";
$MC_Mr to "Mx";
$HeShe to "They"; $heshe to "they"; $HimHer to "Them"; $himher to "them"; $HisHer to "Their"; $hisher to "their"; $HisHers to "Theirs"; $hishers to "theirs"; $Himself to "Themself"; $himself to "themself"; $plural to true;
$MC_style to "light academia";
$MC_height to "short";
$MC_hairlength to "chest-length";
$MC_hairtexture to "wavy";
$MC_haircolor to "jet black";
$MC_eyecolor to "amethyst violet";
$MC_skintone to "olive";
$MC_program to "Mechanical Engineering";
$Piano to true; $Music to true; $Dance to true; $Sports to true; $Swimming to true; $IceHockey to true; $Soccer to true; $IceSkating to true; $Technology to true; $SocialSkills to true>>*/
/*RO TEST STATS*/
/*<<set $M_name to "Maxwell"; $M_middle to "Edmund"; $M_gender to "male"; $M_person to "man"; $M_Mr to "Mr"; $M_HeShe to "He"; $M_heshe to "he"; $M_HimHer to "Him"; $M_himher to "him"; $M_HisHer to "His"; $M_hisher to "his"; $M_HisHers to "His"; $M_hishers to "his"; $M_Himself to "Himself"; $M_himself to "himself">>
<<set $V_name to "Vance"; $V_middle to "Kasper"; $V_nickname to "Vanny"; $V_gender to "male"; $V_person to "man"; $V_Mr to "Mr"; $V_HeShe to "He"; $V_heshe to "he"; $V_HimHer to "Him"; $V_himher to "him"; $V_HisHer to "His"; $V_hisher to "his"; $V_HisHers to "His"; $V_hishers to "his"; $V_Himself to "Himself"; $V_himself to "himself">>
<<set $D_name to "Dumitru", $D_middle to "Constantin", $D_gender to "male", $D_person to "man", $D_guy to "guy", $D_Mr to "Mr", $D_HeShe to "He", $D_heshe to "he", $D_HimHer to "Him", $D_himher to "him", $D_HisHer to "His", $D_hisher to "his", $D_HisHers to "His", $D_hishers to "his", $D_Himself to "Himself", $D_himself to "himself">>
<<set $C_name to "Céline", $C_middle to "Armelle", $C_Ceddy to "Celly", $C_gender to "female", $C_person to "woman", $C_guy to "girl", $C_boy to "girl",$C_Mr to "Ms", $C_HeShe to "She", $C_heshe to "she", $C_HimHer to "Her", $C_himher to "her", $C_HisHer to "Her", $C_hisher to "her", $C_HisHers to "Hers", $C_hishers to "hers", $C_Himself to "Herself", $C_himself to "herself">>*/
<<cacheaudio "title" "music/TITLE OPENING TRACK.mp3">>
<<cacheaudio "CH1Dance" "music/C dance scene in heart event.mp3">>
<<cacheaudio "DH1stealingbikes" "music/D scene from stealing the bikes to reaching the pool.mp3">>
<<cacheaudio "DH1swimming" "music/D swimming pool scene.mp3">>
<<cacheaudio "partymusic" "music/party audio D route.mp3">>
<<cacheaudio "VH1" "music/V heart scene including V's POV.mp3">>
<<cacheaudio "MH1" "music/M HEART 1.mp3">>
<<cacheaudio "WO1" "music/W OSTENDORF 1.mp3">>
<<cacheaudio "LHH" "music/LOVELACE HOUSE HISTORY.mp3">>
<<cacheaudio "WH1" "music/W HEART 1.mp3">>
<<cacheaudio "VB1" "music/V BACCHANALIA 1.mp3">>
<<cacheaudio "MB1" "music/M BACCHANALIA 1.mp3">>
<<cacheaudio "WB1" "music/W BACCHANALIA 1.mp3">>
<<cacheaudio "CB1" "music/C BACCHANALIA 1.mp3">>
<<cacheaudio "DB1" "music/D BACCHANALIA 1.mp3">>
<<cacheaudio "CH4B1" "music/CH 4 BACCHANALIA.mp3">><div class="box header">
<h1><div id="blackthornediaries">BLACKTHORNE DIARIES</div></h1>
</div>
<div class="box">
<<message "<h1>$MC_firstname $MC_middlename $MC_surname</h1>">>
<h2>“$MC_nickname"</h2>
<span class="star">✦</span>
<ul class="facts">
<li>18</li>
<li>$MC_pronouns</li>
<li>$MC_gender</li>
<li>Freshman ($MC_program)</li>
<li></li>
</ul>
<h3>Appearance</h3>
<table style="margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; text-align: left">
<tr>
<th>Hair</th>
<td style="padding: 0 10px">$MC_hairlength, $MC_hairtexture, $MC_haircolor</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<th>Eyes</th>
<td style="padding: 0 10px">$MC_eyecolor</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<th>Complexion</th>
<td style="padding: 0 10px">$MC_skintone</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<th>Height</th>
<td style="padding: 0 10px">$MC_height</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<th>Aesthetic</th>
<td style="padding: 0 10px">$MC_style</td>
</tr>
</table>
<div class="box blank">
<h3>Personality</h3>
<div class="stat-group">
<div class="stat">
<div class="stat-labels">
Friendly $Friendly%
<span></span>
Aloof $Aloof%
</div>
<div class="stat-bar" id="FriendlyAloof-stat"></div>
<div class="stat-bar-container">
<div class="stat-bar"><progress @value="$Friendly" max="100"></progress></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="stat">
<div class="stat-labels">
Sarcastic $Sarcastic%
<span></span>
Genuine $Genuine%
</div>
<div class="stat-bar" id="SarcasticGenuine-stat"></div>
<div class="stat-bar-container">
<div class="stat-bar"><progress @value="$Sarcastic" max="100"></progress></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="stat-group">
<div class="stat">
<div class="stat-labels">
Arrogant $Arrogant%
<span></span>
Humble $Humble%
</div>
<div class="stat-bar" id="ArrogantHumble-stat"></div>
<div class="stat-bar-container">
<div class="stat-bar"><progress @value="$Arrogant" max="100"></progress></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="stat">
<div class="stat-labels">
Laidback $Laidback%
<span></span>
Uptight $Uptight%
</div>
<div class="stat-bar" id="LaidbackUptight-stat"></div>
<div class="stat-bar-container">
<div class="stat-bar"><progress @value="$Laidback" max="100"></progress></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="stat-group">
<div class="stat">
<div class="stat-labels">
Intuitive $Intuitive%
<span></span>
Strategic $Strategic%
</div>
<div class="stat-bar" id="IntuitiveStrategic-stat"></div>
<div class="stat-bar-container">
<div class="stat-bar"><progress @value="$Intuitive" max="100"></progress></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="stat">
<div class="stat-labels">
Pragmatic $Pragmatic%
<span></span>
Emotional $Emotional%
</div>
<div class="stat-bar" id="PragmaticEmotional-stat"></div>
<div class="stat-bar-container">
<div class="stat-bar"><progress @value="$Pragmatic" max="100"></progress></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="stat-group">
<div class="stat">
<div class="stat-labels">
Shy $Shy%
<span></span>
Bold $Bold%
</div>
<div class="stat-bar" id="ShyBold-stat"></div>
<div class="stat-bar-container">
<div class="stat-bar"><progress @value="$Shy" max="100"></progress></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="stat">
<div class="stat-labels">
Cautious $Cautious%
<span></span>
Impulsive $Impulsive%
</div>
<div class="stat-bar" id="CautiousImpulsive-stat"></div>
<div class="stat-bar-container">
<div class="stat-bar"><progress @value="$Cautious" max="100"></progress></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="stat-group">
<div class="stat">
<div class="stat-labels">
Introvert $Introvert%
<span></span>
Extrovert $Extrovert%
</div>
<div class="stat-bar" id="IntrovertExtrovert-stat"></div>
<div class="stat-bar-container">
<div class="stat-bar"><progress @value="$Introvert" max="100"></progress></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="stat">
<div class="stat-labels">
Optimist $Optimist%
<span></span>
Pessimist $Pessimist%
</div>
<div class="stat-bar" id="OptimistPessimist-stat"></div>
<div class="stat-bar-container">
<div class="stat-bar"><progress @value="$Optimist" max="100"></progress></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<h3>Hamartia</h3>
<div id="centered">$MC_fatalflaw</div>
<h3>Extracurriculars</h3>
<div id="centered">$MC_extracurriculars</div>
<h3>Languages</h3>
<div id="centered">English, Latin, Dutch, $MC_languages</div>
<</message>>
</div>
<div class="box">
<<if $C_name is "C">>You have not met this person yet.
<<else>><<message "<h1>$C_name $C_middle Lacroix</h1>">>
/*<h2>“$C_nickname"</h2>*/
<span class="star">✦</span>
<ul class="facts">
<li>18</li>
<li>$C_gender</li>
<li>Freshman (Economics)</li>
<li></li>
</ul>
<h3>Appearance</h3>
<table style="margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; text-align: left; width:70%">
<tr>
<th>Hair</th>
<td style="padding: 0 10px"><<if $C_name is "Cédric">>Short, dark brown, neatly styled with not a hair out of place.<<else>>Straight, long, dark brown hair often styled in sophisticated updos or sleek with not a hair out of place<</if>></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<th>Eyes</th>
<td style="padding: 0 10px">Piercing and pale green like a pair of chalcedony stones, their intensity marred by a streak of arrogance</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<th>Complexion</th>
<td style="padding: 0 10px">Fair with a clear, marble-like complexion and no visible imperfections</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<th>Height</th>
<td style="padding: 0 10px"><<if $C_name is "Cédric">>6’2 (188 cm)<<else>>5’10 (178 cm)<</if>></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<th>Aesthetic</th>
<td style="padding: 0 10px">Preppy</td>
</tr>
</table>
<h3>Characteristics</h3>
<div id="centered"><strong>Nationality</strong>: French / Swiss / American</div>
<div id="centered"><strong>Zodiac</strong>: Capricorn</div>
<div id="centered"><strong>MBTI</strong>: ENTJ</div>
<h3>Relationship</h3>
<<if $C_romance gte 1>><div id="centered"><<if $C_romance gte 5>>$C_HeShe hates you so much that $C_heshe has started feeling lightheaded around you.<<else>><<if hasVisited("C Heart Event 1 Shy") or hasVisited("C Heart Event 1 Bold")>>$C_HeShe’s listening to $C_hisher head for now.<<else>>$C_HeShe abhors you.<</if>><</if>></div><</if>>
<div class="stat-group">
<div class="stat">
<div class="stat-labels">Friendship</div>
<div class="stat-bar" id="Cfriendship-stat"></div>
<div class="stat-bar-container">
<div class="stat-bar"><progress @value="$C_friendship" max="100"></progress></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="stat">
<div class="stat-labels">Romance</div>
<div class="stat-bar" id="Cromance-stat"></div>
<div class="stat-bar-container">
<div class="stat-bar"><progress @value="$C_romance" max="100"></progress></div>
</div>
</div>
<</message>>
<</if>>
</div>
<div class="box">
<<if $V_name is "V">>You have not met this person yet.
<<else>><<message "<h1>$V_name $V_middle Næsholm</h1>">>
<h2>“$V_nickname"</h2>
<span class="star">✦</span>
<ul class="facts">
<li>18</li>
<li>$V_gender</li>
<li>Freshman [Classics (Greek Literature)]</li>
<li></li>
</ul>
<h3>Appearance</h3>
<table style="margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; text-align: left; width:70%">
<tr>
<th>Hair</th>
<td style="padding: 0 10px"><<if $V_name is "Vance">>Short and relaxed black curls<<else>>Chest-length, curly black hair styled in a more structured look<</if>></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<th>Eyes</th>
<td style="padding: 0 10px">Deep brown the color of a strong cup of tea, with an expressive and contemplative gaze that hints at a profound inner world inside their head.</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<th>Complexion</th>
<td style="padding: 0 10px">Warm brown complexion with a slight bronze glow of dawn, a little vertical scar on the left chin being lighter than its surroundings</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<th>Height</th>
<td style="padding: 0 10px"><<if $V_name is "Vance">>6’1 (186 cm)<<else>>5’9 (176 cm)<</if>></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<th>Aesthetic</th>
<td style="padding: 0 10px">Dark academia</td>
</tr>
</table>
<h3>Characteristics</h3>
<div id="centered"><strong>Nationality</strong>: Danish / Jamaican / American</div>
<div id="centered"><strong>Zodiac</strong>: Cancer</div>
<div id="centered"><strong>MBTI</strong>: INFP</div>
<h3>Relationship</h3>
<<if $V_romance gte 1>><div id="centered"><<if $V_romance gte 5>>$V_HeShe doesn’t know why $V_heshe feels like this.<<else>><<if hasVisited("V Heart Event 1")>>$V_HisHer heart is all aflutter.<<else>>$V_HeShe is wary of you.<</if>><</if>></div><</if>>
<div class="stat-group">
<div class="stat">
<div class="stat-labels">Friendship</div>
<div class="stat-bar" id="Vfriendship-stat"></div>
<div class="stat-bar-container">
<div class="stat-bar"><progress @value="$V_friendship" max="100"></progress></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="stat">
<div class="stat-labels">Romance</div>
<div class="stat-bar" id="Vromance-stat"></div>
<div class="stat-bar-container">
<div class="stat-bar"><progress @value="$V_romance" max="100"></progress></div>
</div>
</div>
<</message>>
<</if>>
</div>
<div class="box">
<<if $W_name is "W">>You have not met this person yet.
<<else>><<message "<h1>$W_name $W_middle Ostendorf</h1>">>
<h2>“$W_nickname"</h2>
<span class="star">✦</span>
<ul class="facts">
<li>18</li>
<li>$W_gender</li>
<li>Freshman (Film and Media Studies)</li>
<li></li>
</ul>
<h3>Appearance</h3>
<table style="margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; text-align: left; width:70%">
<tr>
<th>Hair</th>
<td style="padding: 0 10px"><<if $W_name is "Wilhelm">>Ear-length and messy, slightly wavy dirty blonde appearing tousled and a little unkempt<<else>>Chest-length, slightly wavy dirty blonde hair that is often worn loosely or in a casual bun<</if>></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<th>Eyes</th>
<td style="padding: 0 10px">Vibrant and intense sapphire blue, a bit droopy, hinting at their constant state of sleep deprivation</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<th>Complexion</th>
<td style="padding: 0 10px">Fair, with a subtle, natural glow despite the tired appearance. Light freckles dust the area around the nose but it’s only visible up close</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<th>Height</th>
<td style="padding: 0 10px"><<if $W_name is "Wilhelm">>5’11 (181 cm)<<else>>5’7 (171 cm)<</if>></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<th>Aesthetic</th>
<td style="padding: 0 10px">Casual classic</td>
</tr>
</table>
<h3>Characteristics</h3>
<div id="centered"><strong>Nationality</strong>: German / American</div>
<div id="centered"><strong>Zodiac</strong>: Aquarius</div>
<div id="centered"><strong>MBTI</strong>: INFJ</div>
<h3>Relationship</h3>
<<if $W_romance gte 1>><div id="centered"><<if $W_romance gte 5>><strike>You were everything to $W_himher</strike><<else>>$W_HeShe isn’t sure about you.<</if>></div><</if>>
<div class="stat-group">
<div class="stat">
<div class="stat-labels">Friendship</div>
<div class="stat-bar" id="Wfriendship-stat"></div>
<div class="stat-bar-container">
<div class="stat-bar"><progress @value="$W_friendship" max="100"></progress></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="stat">
<div class="stat-labels">Romance</div>
<div class="stat-bar" id="Wromance-stat"></div>
<div class="stat-bar-container">
<div class="stat-bar"><progress @value="$W_romance" max="100"></progress></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<</message>>
<</if>>
</div>
<div class="box">
<<if $D_name is "D">>You have not met this person yet.
<<else>><<message "<h1>$D_name $D_middle Diaconu</h1>">>
<h2>“Rook"</h2>
<span class="star">✦</span>
<ul class="facts">
<li>19</li>
<li>$D_gender</li>
<li>Sophomore (Music)</li>
<li></li>
</ul>
<h3>Appearance</h3>
<table style="margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; text-align: left; width:70%">
<tr>
<th>Hair</th>
<td style="padding: 0 10px"><<if $D_name is "Dumitru">>Wavy, chestnut brown hair cut up to his chin in relaxed waves and sometimes tied in a half-bun<<else>>Shoulder-length, wavy, chestnut brown hair in loose, carefree waves or occasionally tied back in a messy half-bun<</if>></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<th>Eyes</th>
<td style="padding: 0 10px">Sharp, swirling shade of gunmetal gray that exudes flawless confidence and bedroom eyes</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<th>Complexion</th>
<td style="padding: 0 10px">Pale and slightly rosy porcelain which looks surprisingly delicate in contrast to their roguish personality</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<th>Height</th>
<td style="padding: 0 10px"><<if $D_name is "Dumitru">>6’0 (184 cm)<<else>>5’8 (174 cm)<</if>></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<th>Aesthetic</th>
<td style="padding: 0 10px">Punk</td>
</tr>
</table>
<h3>Characteristics</h3>
<div id="centered"><strong>Nationality</strong>: Romanian / American</div>
<div id="centered"><strong>Zodiac</strong>: Aries</div>
<div id="centered"><strong>MBTI</strong>: ESTP</div>
<h3>Relationship</h3>
<<if $D_romance gte 1>><div id="centered"><<if $D_romance gte 5>>“It’s just a new friendship, that’s all haha.”<<else>><<if hasVisited("D Heart Event 1")>>$D_HisHer heart is very confused.<<else>>$D_HeShe finds you amusing.<</if>><</if>></div><</if>>
<div class="stat-group">
<div class="stat">
<div class="stat-labels">Friendship</div>
<div class="stat-bar" id="Dfriendship-stat"></div>
<div class="stat-bar-container">
<div class="stat-bar"><progress @value="$D_friendship" max="100"></progress></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="stat">
<div class="stat-labels">Romance</div>
<div class="stat-bar" id="Dromance-stat"></div>
<div class="stat-bar-container">
<div class="stat-bar"><progress @value="$D_romance" max="100"></progress></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<</message>>
<</if>>
</div>
<div class="box">
<<if $M_name is "M">>You have not met this person yet.
<<else>><<message "<h1>$M_name $M_middle Whitlock-Singh</h1>">>
<h2>“Max"</h2>
<span class="star">✦</span>
<ul class="facts">
<li>19</li>
<li>$M_gender</li>
<li>Sophomore (Political Science + Global Affairs)</li>
<li></li>
</ul>
<h3>Appearance</h3>
<table style="margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; text-align: left; width:70%">
<tr>
<th>Hair</th>
<td style="padding: 0 10px"><<if $M_name is "Maxwell">>Thick and silky ear-length raven black hair<<else>>Thick and silky waist-length raven black hair<</if>></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<th>Eyes</th>
<td style="padding: 0 10px">Fierce, umber brown eyes that exude an unspoken sort of self-assurance and a Machiavellian aspect</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<th>Complexion</th>
<td style="padding: 0 10px">Tawny brown with a golden undertone, sharp cheekbones also accentuate their facial features and demand more attention to them</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<th>Height</th>
<td style="padding: 0 10px"><<if $M_name is "Maxwell">>6’4 (193 cm)<<else>>6’0 (183 cm)<</if>></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<th>Aesthetic</th>
<td style="padding: 0 10px">Old money</td>
</tr>
</table>
<h3>Characteristics</h3>
<div id="centered"><strong>Nationality</strong>: British / Indian</div>
<div id="centered"><strong>Zodiac</strong>: Virgo</div>
<div id="centered"><strong>MBTI</strong>: ENTP</div>
<h3>Relationship</h3>
<<if $M_romance gte 1>><div id="centered"><<if $M_romance gte 5>>$M_HeShe is trying not to get too involved. And failing.<<else>>$M_HeShe is curious about you.<</if>></div><</if>>
<div class="stat-group">
<div class="stat">
<div class="stat-labels">Friendship</div>
<div class="stat-bar" id="Mfriendship-stat"></div>
<div class="stat-bar-container">
<div class="stat-bar"><progress @value="$M_friendship" max="100"></progress></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="stat">
<div class="stat-labels">Romance</div>
<div class="stat-bar" id="Mromance-stat"></div>
<div class="stat-bar-container">
<div class="stat-bar"><progress @value="$M_romance" max="100"></progress></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<</message>>
<</if>>
</div>
<span style="display: block; text-align: center;">
<<link "« Return to game" $return>><</link>>
</span><!-- POPULATES STORY LINKS IN THE HEADER MENU -->
<<if hasVisited("Ch 1.7") or hasVisited("Chapter Select")>><li> [[Blackthorne Diaries]] </li><</if>>
/*<li> [[Blackthorne Diaries]] </li>
<li> [[The Stygian Files]] </li>
<li> [[stat page 2]] </li>
<li> [[stat page 3]] </li>*/<<audio "title" loop play>><div class="main">
<nav>
<<link "Resume Game">>/*<<run Save.autosave.load()>>*/
<<script>>
/* If the game is restarting, skip autosave loading. */
if (State.metadata.has("Restarting")) {
State.metadata.delete("Restarting");
}
/* Otherwise, check if an autosave exists & load it */
else if (Save.browser.size > 0) {
Save.browser.continue()
.then(() => {
/* Success - load the passage */
Engine.show();
})
.catch(error => {
/* Failure. Handle the error */
console.error(error);
UI.alert(error);
});
} else {
/* No browser saves exist. Start new game */
}
<</script>>
<</link>>
<<link "Load Game">><<run UI.saves();>><</link>>
</nav>
<div class="story-banner">
<div class="content">
<!-- STORY TITLE -->
<h1 class="story-title">The Ballad of the Young Gods</h1>
<!-- ICON -->
<i class="fas fa-skull-crossbones"></i>
<!-- STORY SUBTITLE -->
<h2 class="story-subtitle">CHILDREN OF CAIN #1</h2>
<span>✦</span>
<!-- STORY AUTHOR -->
<h3 class="story-author">By <a href="#"></a>axel enlyf & alby</h3>
</div>
</div>
<nav>
<<link "New Game" "Prologue">><</link>>
/*[[Chapter Select]]*/
<<link "Settings">><<run UI.settings();>><</link>>
</nav>
</div>!Heading 1
!!Heading 2
!!!Heading 3
Normal text. Normal text. Normal text. Normal text. Normal text. //emphasised text//. Normal text. Normal text. Normal text. Normal text. Normal text. Normal text. Normal text. ''strong text''. Normal text. Normal text. Normal text. Normal text. Normal text. Normal text. Normal text. Normal text. __underlined text__ Normal text. Normal text. Normal text. Normal text. Normal text.
----
!!!Unordered List:
* List item 1
* List item 2
!!!Links
[[More Styles]]
[[More Styles]]
<<button "Button" "More Styles">><</button>><!-- POPULATE THE SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS -->
<<link '<i class="fab fa-tumblr"></i>'>><<script>>window.open('https://childrenofcain-if.tumblr.com/')<</script>><</link>>
<<link '<i class="fab fa-pinterest"></i>'>><<script>>window.open('https://www.pinterest.ca/axelwritesstuff/')<</script>><</link>>
/*<a href="KO-FI URL HERE" target="_blank"><i class="fas fa-hand-holding-heart"></i></a>*/<!-- TITLE ON THE TOP OF THE PAGE IS POPULATED HERE -->
<!-- STORY TITLE -->
<h1>The Ballad of the Young Gods</h1>
<!-- ICON -->
<i class="fas fa-skull-crossbones"></i>
<!-- STORY SUBTITLE -->
<h2>CHILDREN OF CAIN #1</h2><!-- STORY BANNER/LOGO POPULATED HERE -->
<div class="story-banner">
<div class="content">
<!-- STORY TITLE -->
<h1 class="story-title">The Ballad of the Young Gods</h1>
<!-- ICON -->
<i class="fas fa-skull-crossbones"></i>
<!-- STORY SUBTITLE -->
<h2 class="story-subtitle">CHILDREN OF CAIN #1</h2>
<span>✦</span>
<!-- STORY AUTHOR -->
<h3 class="story-author">By <a href="#"></a>axel enlyf & alby</h3>
</div>
</div>!!! Checkbox:
<<checkbox "$checkboxVar1" false true autocheck>> Checkbox option 1
<<checkbox "$checkboxVar2" false true autocheck>> Checkbox option 2
<<checkbox "$checkboxVar3" false true autocheck>> Checkbox option 3
!!! Cycle:
<<cycle "$cycleVar" autoselect>>
<<option "Option 1">>
<<option "Option 2">>
<<option "Option 3">>
<<option "Option 4">>
<<option "Option 5">>
<</cycle>>
!!! Listbox:
<<listbox "$listboxVar" autoselect>>
<<option "Option 1">>
<<option "Option 2">>
<<option "Option 3">>
<<option "Option 4">>
<<option "Option 5">>
<</listbox>>
!!! Radiobutton:
<<radiobutton "$radiobuttonVar" "option 1" autocheck>> Option 1
<<radiobutton "$radiobuttonVar" "option 2" autocheck>> Option 2
<<radiobutton "$radiobuttonVar" "option 3" autocheck>> Option 3
!!! Textarea:
<<textarea "$textareaVar" "Type text here..">>
!!! Textbox:
<<textbox "$textboxVar" "Type answer here">>
<<button "Autosave" "Autosave">><</button>><<notify>>Autosave complete!<</notify>>
This passage autosaves, and the next time the game opens the player will be able to resume from here. !ཫ PROLOGUE ཀ
!!𓆙 sic vita est 𓆙
<div id="letter">''October, 2005''
//Freddie died yesterday. There was no body to be buried. No funeral to plan.//
//They’re planning to go for a search, and while I highly doubt it’d do us any good, I want to be there. If not for Freddie himself then for Jane. They were expecting a child in eight months. He would’ve made a wonderful father. But as luck would have it, we won’t be able to see it happen.//
//Jane is inconsolable, of course. She blames Calum for his shoddy spellwork on Freddie’s protective ward, and I have no doubt he’ll face Dean Windsor's wrath when he arrives. Good riddance. No wonder the other Oracles don’t want to associate with him.//
//Truthfully, mī cōnsiliārie, I am tired. Dreadfully so. When I joined the House, everything seemed so tantalizing and exciting to me. How could it not? A whole new world was opened to me. It was more than I could’ve ever hoped for in my dull and dreary routine of studying, reading, and mooching up to the professors. But now that I’ve been here for two years, the only thing I can feel for these people is anger and contempt.//
//I’ve realized that in my ambition to be among the big names, I have sacrificed what made me human. I have done everything they’ve asked of me so far. But each of those tasks fulfilled is now weighing me down like an albatross around my neck.//
//My soul is damned, my body a bargaining piece. And even after all of that, I have nothing to show for it.//
//There is an itch in my skin that I just can’t scratch when I think of the House and the vipers who disguise their greed with altruistic promises. It took me two years to finally find the Machiavellian intentions buried deep within almost everyone there. So ironic for me to be blinded by my vocation to see through it all.//
//And what do you know, they’re already planning to choose Freddie’s replacement. I hadn’t been wrong about the ‘search’ being just another ruse to repress the unease that is brewing among the Cohorts and Centurions. To add insult to injury, they expect me to be the one who trains them while the Archon does who knows what. They expect me to obey, to be a puppet who mindlessly follows their damning instructions.//
//I refuse. I am no one’s pawn or muse, I am the owner of my soul until I have to pay my dues. And until then, I will defy with every fiber of my being.//
//Jane has already lost the love of her life, she will not be losing her soul sister as well. I have already talked to Hades and he thinks it’s the most sensible decision. But, mī cōnsiliārie, he worries so much with his bleeding heart on his sleeves. He tells me we can run away and hide, even bring Jane with us if she and I so desire. A secluded Dutch manor in the middle of nowhere.//
//My darling knight, so valiant and eager to shield me from anything that might harm me. Often to his own detriment. Many take his kindness for weakness. They say his soft heart is his greatest hubris. Perhaps it is mine too by extension, as he is my weakness.//
//It is quite endearing how he tries to keep the diamond ring a secret, yet he realizes not that Jane has the unfortunate knack of never being able to keep a secret from me. I shall let it slide just to see his handsome face light up. If I were a more delicate woman, I would’ve shed tears over the family heirloom he plans to present to me as a promise of his lifelong devotion. As fate has it, all I can do now is try to stop the swell of my hopelessly lovestruck heart whenever he is near me.//
//The stars are in full brightness today. The sky is littered with them. If there’s anything constant to be admired here in this godforsaken city, it’s this view. I wish you could be seeing this with me right now, mī cōnsiliārie, it is beautiful.//
//I miss my home. I miss my parents. I miss my baby brother.//
//I may as well never see them again as things are about to be very different. Truth be told, I have no idea if I’ll even be able to follow through with my convictions. My bravado and anger aside, I am but a cog in their grand machine. Fixable, but also replaceable. But I am sick of the vipers who have coiled their tails around me. I am ready to wash my hands of their venom and the House, forever.//
//And to Frederick Lochlan: Forgive me for all the promises I failed to keep, but most of all for the ones I dared to make to you in the first place.//
//With warmth and love,//</div>
<<button "''Persephone''" "ACT 1_Chapter 1">><</button>>
<<link '(Read in Merriweather)'>><<set $letter to "prologue">><<script>>
Dialog.setup("Persephone's Letter");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Letters").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</link>>
<<link '(Read in Open Dyslexic)'>><<set $letter to "prologue dyslexic">><<script>>
Dialog.setup("Persephone's Letter");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Letters").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</link>>
/*[[ACT 1_Chapter 1]]*/$MC_son
$MC_surname
$MC_style
$MC_languages
$MC_extracurriculars
$MC_program
$MC_eyecolor
$MC_hairtexture
$MC_haircolor
$MC_hairlength
$MC_skintone
$MC_firstname
$MC_gender
$MC_pronouns
$MC_height
$MC_drink
$MC_fatalflaw
$MC_attraction
$Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 5, 0, 100)
$Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 5, 0, 100)
$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 5, 0, 100)
$Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 5, 0, 100)
$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 5, 0, 100)
$Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 5, 0, 100)
$Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 5, 0, 100)
$Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 5, 0, 100)
$Intuitive to Math.clamp($Intuitive + 5, 0, 100)
$Strategic to Math.clamp($Strategic + 5, 0, 100)
$Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic + 5, 0, 100)
$Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional + 5, 0, 100)
$Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 5, 0, 100)
$Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 5, 0, 100)
$Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious + 5, 0, 100)
$Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 5, 0, 100)
$Introvert to Math.clamp($Introvert + 5, 0, 100)
$Extrovert to Math.clamp($Extrovert + 5, 0, 100)
$Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist + 5, 0, 100)
$Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist + 5, 0, 100)
$Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 5, 0, 100)
$Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 5, 0, 100)
$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 5, 0, 100)
$Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 5, 0, 100)
$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 5, 0, 100)
$Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 5, 0, 100)
$Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 5, 0, 100)
$Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 5, 0, 100)
$Intuitive to Math.clamp($Intuitive - 5, 0, 100)
$Strategic to Math.clamp($Strategic - 5, 0, 100)
$Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic - 5, 0, 100)
$Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional - 5, 0, 100)
$Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 5, 0, 100)
$Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 5, 0, 100)
$Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 5, 0, 100)
$Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive - 5, 0, 100)
$Introvert to Math.clamp($Introvert - 5, 0, 100)
$Extrovert to Math.clamp($Extrovert - 5, 0, 100)
$Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist - 5, 0, 100)
$Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist - 5, 0, 100)
<<if $MC_surname is "">>Please return to the previous page and enter a surname in the textbox.<<else>>Elias $MC_surname is cutthroat, intelligent, and has a ruthless streak that makes his fellow businessmen look at him in poorly hidden apprehension. However, despite all that, Elias is also a loving father, making him more susceptible to his little moon’s every demand.
Sometimes the people working in the $MC_surname estate wonder if the heir apparent gets any lonely with being in the manor with no one but the servants for company when Mr. $MC_surname is out and about with his busy schedule.
[[Speaking of the devil...|Ch 1.3]]<</if>>You were sat at your desk, an antique piece polished to a high gloss, your fingers drumming an anxious rhythm against its surface. The room, despite its modern amenities, exuded a timeless elegance. You had also tried to give it a makeover that reflected your personal <<listbox "$MC_style" autoselect>>
<<option "grunge">>
<<option "preppy">>
<<option "emo">>
<<option "goth">>
<<option "sportswear">>
<<option "punk">>
<<option "streetwear">>
<<option "biker">>
<<option "Y2K">>
<<option "dark academia">>
<<option "light academia">>
<<option "old money">>
<<option "cottagecore">>
<<option "indie">>
<<option "skater">>
<<option "artsy">>
<<option "boho">>
<<option "trendsetter">>
<<option "90s">>
<<option "downtown">>
<<option "vintage">>
<</listbox>> aesthetic. Heavy drapes framed the tall windows, filtering the pale afternoon light. The air was filled with the faint scent of lavender from the sachets your father insisted on tucking into every drawer. It was a familiar scent that you’ve known since forever.
Despite the comfort and warmth of the room which contrasted heavily with the cold that winter brought outside, there is no way to tamper with the anxiety that is heavy against your stomach. You glance at the time displayed on your iMac: <strong>3:47 p.m.</strong> Time was passing excruciatingly slow and you kept refreshing your email anxiously.
The minutes seem to stretch, each one an eternity of its own. You have been waiting for this moment for what felt like a lifetime. 4.0 GPA, numerous extracurriculars, volunteering events, charities, everything you have been working your ass off for, all of that has been leading up to this particular accomplishment.
<strong>Yale University.</strong> Your parents’ alma mater. The place where they had met and set off towards building a life together. The only connection you have yet to follow when it comes to your mother. It's a place etched in old photographs, sepia-toned smiles, and stories whispered over Sunday dinners with your father. But over the years, it became more than that. It is now a question mark, a void you’re desperate to fill. A chance to rewrite a chapter you’ve only ever read about from word of mouth or the internet.
<<button "Next" "Ch 1.4">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 1.4]]*/Your relentless obsession with attending the university had startled your father at first, but he didn’t hesitate to show his support once he realized how serious you were taking it. He enrolled you in tutorial classes to learn languages. Latin, alongside other languages of your choice (__select at most 4__):
<<set $MC_languages to []>>
<label><<checkbox "$French" false true autocheck>> French</label>
<label><<checkbox "$German" false true autocheck>> German</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Arabic" false true autocheck>> Arabic</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Italian" false true autocheck>> Italian</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Mandarin" false true autocheck>> Mandarin</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Spanish" false true autocheck>> Spanish</label>
Aside from languages, you also had your extracurriculars in (__select at most five__):
<<set $MC_extracurriculars to []>>
<<message 'Music'>>\
<label><<checkbox "$Piano" false true autocheck>> Piano</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Violin" false true autocheck>> Violin</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Cello" false true autocheck>> Cello</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Guitar" false true autocheck>> Guitar</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Saxophone" false true autocheck>> Saxophone</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Drums" false true autocheck>> Drums</label>
<label><<checkbox "$VoiceLessons" false true autocheck>> Voice lessons</label><</message>>
<<message 'Dance'>>\
<label><<checkbox "$Ballet" false true autocheck>> Ballet</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Contemporary" false true autocheck>> Contemporary</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Lyrical" false true autocheck>> Lyrical</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Classical" false true autocheck>> Classical</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Jazz" false true autocheck>> Jazz</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Waltz" false true autocheck>> Waltz</label><</message>>
<<message 'Sports'>>\
<label><<checkbox "$Swimming" false true autocheck>> Swimming</label>
<label><<checkbox "$IceSkating" false true autocheck>> Ice Skating</label>
<label><<checkbox "$IceHockey" false true autocheck>> Ice Hockey</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Soccer" false true autocheck>> Soccer</label><</message>>
<<message 'Technology'>>\
<label><<checkbox "$ComputerProgramming" false true autocheck>> Computer Programming</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Robotics" false true autocheck>> Robotics</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Engineering" false true autocheck>> Engineering</label><</message>>
<<message 'Social Skills'>>\
<label><<checkbox "$MannersandProtocol" false true autocheck>> Manners and Protocol</label>
<label><<checkbox "$PublicSpeaking" false true autocheck>> Public Speaking</label>
<label><<checkbox "$DebateSociety" false true autocheck>> Debate Society</label>
<label><<checkbox "$ModelUnitedNations" false true autocheck>> Model United Nations</label><</message>>
The program you were applying for was:
<<message 'Pre-Med'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "Biology" autocheck>> Biology</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "Biomedical Engineering" autocheck>> Biomedical Engineering</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "Neuroscience" autocheck>> Neuroscience</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "Psychology" autocheck>> Psychology</label><</message>>
<<message 'Pre-Law'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "Political Science" autocheck>> Political Science</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "History" autocheck>> History</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "Sociology" autocheck>> Sociology</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "Ethics, Politics, and Economics (EPE)" autocheck>> Ethics, Politics, and Economics (EPE)</label><</message>>
<<message 'Fine Arts'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "Art" autocheck>> Art</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "Architecture" autocheck>> Architecture</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "History of Art" autocheck>> History of Art</label><</message>>
<<message 'Humanities and Social Sciences'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "English" autocheck>> English</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "Comparative Literature" autocheck>> Comparative Literature</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "Classical Civilization" autocheck>> Classics</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "Anthropology" autocheck>> Anthropology</label><</message>>
<<message 'Sciences and Engineering'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "Astrophysics" autocheck>> Astrophysics</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "Computer Science" autocheck>> Computer Science</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "Mechanical Engineering" autocheck>> Mechanical Engineering</label><</message>>
<<button "Next" "Ch 1.5">>
<<if $French>><<set $MC_languages.push("French")>><</if>>
<<if $German>><<set $MC_languages.push("German")>><</if>>
<<if $Arabic>><<set $MC_languages.push("Arabic")>><</if>>
<<if $Italian>><<set $MC_languages.push("Italian")>><</if>>
<<if $Mandarin>><<set $MC_languages.push("Mandarin")>><</if>>
<<if $Spanish>><<set $MC_languages.push("Spanish")>><</if>>
<<if $Dutch>><<set $MC_languages.push("Dutch")>><</if>>
<<if $Piano>><<set $Music to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Piano")>><</if>>
<<if $Violin>><<set $Music to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Violin")>><</if>>
<<if $Cello>><<set $Music to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Cello")>><</if>>
<<if $Guitar>><<set $Music to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Guitar")>><</if>>
<<if $Saxophone>><<set $Music to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Saxophone")>><</if>>
<<if $Drums>><<set $Music to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Drums")>><</if>>
<<if $VoiceLessons>><<set $Music to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Voice lessons")>><</if>>
<<if $Ballet>><<set $Dance to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Ballet")>><</if>>
<<if $Contemporary>><<set $Dance to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Contemporary dance")>><</if>>
<<if $Lyrical>><<set $Dance to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Lyrical dance")>><</if>>
<<if $Classical>><<set $Dance to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Classical dance")>><</if>>
<<if $Jazz>><<set $Dance to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Jazz dance")>><</if>>
<<if $Waltz>><<set $Dance to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Waltz")>><</if>>
<<if $Swimming>><<set $Sports to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Swimming")>><</if>>
<<if $IceSkating>><<set $Sports to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Ice Skating")>><</if>>
<<if $IceHockey>><<set $Sports to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Ice Hockey")>><</if>>
<<if $Soccer>><<set $Sports to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Soccer")>><</if>>
<<if $ComputerProgramming>><<set $Technology to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Computer Programming")>><</if>>
<<if $Robotics>><<set $Technology to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Robotics")>><</if>>
<<if $Engineering>><<set $Technology to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Engineering")>><</if>>
<<if $MannersandProtocol>><<set $SocialSkills to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Manners and Protocol")>><</if>>
<<if $PublicSpeaking>><<set $SocialSkills to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Public Speaking")>><</if>>
<<if $DebateSociety>><<set $SocialSkills to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Debate Society")>><</if>>
<<if $ModelUnitedNations>><<set $SocialSkills to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Model United Nations")>><</if>>
<</button>>
/*[[Ch 1.5]]*/<<if $MC_program is "Unknown">>Please return to the previous page and select a program.<<else>><<if ($MC_languages.length > 4) and ($MC_extracurriculars.length > 5)>>You selected more than the allowed maximum. Please choose at most 4 languages and at most 5 extracurriculars.
<<elseif ($MC_languages.length < 1) and ($MC_extracurriculars.length < 1)>>You did not select any languages and extracurriculars. Please choose at least 1 each.
<<elseif ($MC_languages.length > 4) and ($MC_extracurriculars.length < 1)>>You selected more than the allowed maximum number of languages. Please choose at most 4 languages. You did not select any extracurriculars. Please choose at least 1 extracurricular.
<<elseif ($MC_languages.length < 1) and ($MC_extracurriculars.length > 5)>>You did not select any languages. Please choose at least 1. You selected more than the allowed maximum number of extracurriculars. Please choose at most 5 extracurriculars.
<<elseif ($MC_languages.length > 4) and ($MC_extracurriculars.length < 6)>> You selected more than the allowed maximum number of languages. Please choose at most 4 languages.
<<elseif ($MC_languages.length < 5) and ($MC_extracurriculars.length > 5)>>You selected more than the allowed maximum number of extracurriculars. Please choose at most 5 extracurriculars.
<<elseif ($MC_languages.length < 1) and ($MC_extracurriculars.length < 5)>> You did not select any languages. Please choose at least 1.
<<elseif ($MC_languages.length < 4) and ($MC_extracurriculars.length < 1)>> You did not select any extracurriculars. Please choose at least 1.
<<else>>You look over at the Polaroid photograph sitting on the corner of your desk. A ten-year-old version of you stares back with sparkling <<listbox "$MC_eyecolor" autoselect>>
<<option "midnight black">>
<<option "earthy brown">>
<<option "cedar brown">>
<<option "sunlit amber">>
<<option "kaleidoscopic hazel">>
<<option "emerald green">>
<<option "meadow green">>
<<option "ocean blue">>
<<option "sky blue">>
<<option "stormy gray">>
<<option "metallic gray">>
<</listbox>> eyes, lips split into an ecstatic grin that shows off your missing incisor thanks to biting into a particularly hard apple. A woman is sitting beside you, identical in almost every aspect of your appearance as she too sports a grin eerily similar to yours, sans the missing teeth.
The same shade of <<listbox "$MC_hairtexture" autoselect>>
<<option "straight">>
<<option "wavy">>
<<option "loosely curly">>
<<option "tightly curly">>
<<option "coily">>
<</listbox>> <<listbox "$MC_haircolor" autoselect>>
<<option "jet black">>
<<option "raven black">>
<<option "dark brown">>
<<option "brown">>
<<option "golden brown">>
<<option "light brown">>
<<option "auburn">>
<<option "dark red">>
<<option "red">>
<<option "ginger">>
<<option "strawberry blond">>
<<option "dark blond">>
<<option "golden blond">>
<<option "ash blond">>
<<option "light blond">>
<<option "platinum blond">>
<</listbox>> hair framed the <<listbox "$MC_skintone" autoselect>>
<<option "pale">>
<<option "ivory">>
<<option "beige">>
<<option "olive">>
<<option "bronze">>
<<option "light brown">>
<<option "dark brown">>
<<option "deep black">>
<</listbox>> tone of her face as yours. You had kept your hair <<listbox "$MC_hairlength" autoselect>>
<<option "short">>
<<option "chin-length">>
<<option "shoulder-length">>
<<option "chest-length">>
<<option "waist-length">>
<<option "hip-length">>
<</listbox>> for that holiday, something that you still do these days.
The memories you have of the holiday in Greece are still something which you hold dearly in your heart. Growing up, you seldom had the chance to go on a solo holiday with your mother due to your schedules usually clashing. But even if you ended up spending your summers at the house she had in the suburbs of Providence, Rhode Island, you remember having the time of your life just helping her out in her gardens or playing with the friends you made there.
You know that the place is now left barren. Some gardeners and housekeepers are assigned to the property to make sure that it is still kept pristine and habitable, but it’d never be the same as it used to be before.
<<button "Next" "Ch 1.6">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 1.6]]*/
<</if>><</if>>What is your name?
<<textbox "$MC_firstname" "">>
<<message 'List of traditionally masculine names'>>\
<<hovertip '<strong>Adonis</strong> [<em>Greek</em>] <em>“Lord" or “master." In Greek mythology, Adonis was a handsome youth loved by the goddesses Aphrodite and Persephone, symbolizing beauty and desire.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Adonis" autocheck>> Adonis</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Enrique</strong> [<em>Spanish</em>] <em>“Ruler of the home." Derived from the Germanic name Heinrich, it combines “home" (heim) and “ruler" (rihhi).</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Enrique" autocheck>> Enrique</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Gideon</strong> [<em>Hebrew</em>] <em>“Hewer" or “one who cuts trees." In the Bible, Gideon was a judge of Israel known for his leadership in battle.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Gideon" autocheck>> Gideon</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Hideo</strong> [<em>Japanese</em>] <em>“Excellent man" or “man of greatness." It combines “hide" (excellent) and “o" (man).</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Hideo" autocheck>> Hideo</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Ismail</strong> [<em>Arabic</em>] <em>“God will hear." It is a variant of the Hebrew name Ishmael, which also means “God hears". He was the first son of Abraham, according to the Abrahamic religions.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Ismail" autocheck>> Ismail</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Kristoffer</strong> [<em>Scandinavian</em>] <em>“Bearer of Christ." A variant of Christopher, it combines “Christ" and “bearer."</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Kristoffer" autocheck>> Kristoffer</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Lorenzo</strong> [<em>Italian</em>] <em>“From Laurentum" or “laurelled." It refers to the city of Laurentum in ancient Rome and symbolizes honor and victory.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Lorenzo" autocheck>> Lorenzo</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Matthieu</strong> [<em>French</em>] <em>“Gift of God." It is the French form of Matthew, derived from the Hebrew name Matityahu.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Matthieu" autocheck>> Matthieu</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Nikolai</strong> [<em>Russian</em>] <em>“Victory of the people." Derived from the Greek name Nikolaos, it combines “nikē" (victory) and “laos" (people).</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Nikolai" autocheck>> Nikolai</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Octavian</strong> [<em>Latin</em>] <em>“Eighth." The name is derived from the Latin word “octavus," which means “eighth." It was a Roman family name and is most famously associated with Augustus Caesar, originally known as Gaius Octavius.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Octavian" autocheck>> Octavian</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Søren</strong> [<em>Scandinavian</em>] <em>“Stern" or “severe." Derived from the Latin name Severinus, it is commonly used in Denmark and Norway.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Søren" autocheck>> Søren</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Theodore</strong> [<em>Greek</em>] <em>“Gift of God." Derived from the Greek name Theodoros, which combines “theos" (God) and “doron" (gift).</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Theodore" autocheck>> Theodore</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Vikram</strong> [<em>Sanskrit</em>] <em>“Valiant" or "brave." It is often associated with King Vikramaditya, a legendary figure in Indian mythology known for his wisdom, bravery, and leadership.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Vikram" autocheck>> Vikram</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Werner</strong> [<em>German</em>] <em>“Defender of the army." Derived from the Germanic elements “wer" (man) and “ner" (warrior).</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Werner" autocheck>> Werner</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Youssef</strong> [<em>Arabic</em>] <em>“God increases" or “God will add." It is a variant of Joseph, which is also derived from the Hebrew name Yosef.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Youssef" autocheck>> Youssef</label><</hovertip>><</message>>
<<message 'List of traditionally feminine names'>>\
<<hovertip '<strong>Anastasia</strong> [<em>Greek</em>] <em>“Resurrection" or “rebirth." Stemming from the Greek term “anastasis," which signifies coming back to life.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Anastasia" autocheck>> Anastasia</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Bianca</strong> [<em>Italian</em>] <em>“White" or “pure." Derived from “bianco," the Italian word for the color white.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Bianca" autocheck>> Bianca</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Camilla</strong> [<em>Latin</em>] <em>“Young attendant" or “noble." Originates from “camillus," a Roman term for a young ceremonial helper.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Camilla" autocheck>> Camilla</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Eleanor</strong> [<em>Old French</em>] <em>“Bright" or “shining light." Derived from “Aliénor," with possible connections to the Latin “alior," meaning other or foreign.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Eleanor" autocheck>> Eleanor</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Fumiko</strong> [<em>Japanese</em>] <em>“Child of abundant beauty" or “child of refined beauty." Combines “fumi" (beauty) and “ko" (child).</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Fumiko" autocheck>> Fumiko</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Gayatri</strong> [<em>Sanskrit</em>] <em>“Goddess of the Vedic hymn" or “Mother of Vedas." Derived from the Sanskrit words “gāyatrī," which is a meter (a specific arrangement of syllables) of a Vedic hymn and also refers to a hymn in praise of Savitr, the Sun deity.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Gayatri" autocheck>> Gayatri</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Kristina</strong> [<em>Scandinavian</em>] <em>“Follower of Christ" or “Christian." From the Latin “Christiana," indicating devotion to Christ.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Kristina" autocheck>> Kristina</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Meryem</strong> [<em>Turkish</em>] <em>“Mary" or “beloved." The Turkish variant of “Maryam," meaning cherished or wished-for child.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Meryem" autocheck>> Meryem</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Nasreen</strong> [<em>Persian</em>] <em>“Wildflower" or “white rose." From the Persian “nasrin," referring to a fragrant flower.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Nasreen" autocheck>> Nasreen</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Ophelia</strong> [<em>Greek</em>] <em>“Help" or “aid." Derived from the Greek word “opheleia," meaning assistance or support.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Ophelia" autocheck>> Ophelia</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Reyna</strong> [<em>Spanish</em>] <em>“Queen." Directly from the Spanish word “reina," denoting female monarch.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Reyna" autocheck>> Reyna</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Rhiannon</strong> [<em>Welsh</em>] <em>“Great queen" or “divine queen." In Welsh lore, Rhiannon is a goddess associated with fertility and horses.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Rhiannon" autocheck>> Rhiannon</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Theodosia</strong> [<em>Greek</em>] <em>“Gift of God." From Greek “Theodosia," combining “theos" (God) with “dosis" (gift).</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Theodosia" autocheck>> Theodosia</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Valerie</strong> [<em>Latin</em>] <em>“Strength" or “valor." Derives from “valere," which means to be strong or healthy.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Valerie" autocheck>> Valerie</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Yvanna</strong> [<em>Ukrainian</em>] <em>“God is gracious." Derived from Ivanna, the feminine form of Ivan (John), which originates from the Hebrew name Yohanan.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Yvanna" autocheck>> Yvanna</label><</hovertip>>
<</message>>
<<message 'List of traditionally gender-neutral names'>>\
<<hovertip '<strong>Arden</strong> [<em>English</em>] <em>“Valley of the eagle." Derived from a place name in England.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Arden" autocheck>> Arden</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Camden</strong> [<em>Scottish</em>] <em>“Winding valley." Originates from a place name in Scotland.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Camden" autocheck>> Camden</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Devon</strong> [<em>English</em>] <em>“Poet" or “devon." Named after the English county of the same name.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Devon" autocheck>> Devon</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Dominique</strong> [<em>French</em>] <em>“Of the Lord" or “belonging to the Lord." Derived from the Latin “Dominicus."</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Dominique" autocheck>> Dominique</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Ishfaq</strong> [<em>Arabic</em>] <em>“Compassion" or "kindness." Comes from the Arabic word "shafaq.”</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Ishfaq" autocheck>> Ishfaq</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Jude</strong> [<em>Hebrew</em>] <em>“Praised." Derived from the Hebrew name “Yehudah."</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Jude" autocheck>> Jude</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Kaede</strong> [<em>Japanese</em>] <em>“Maple tree." Derived from the Japanese word for maple.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Kaede" autocheck>> Kaede</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Loren</strong> [<em>Latin</em>] <em>“Laurel" or “from Laurentum." Derived from Laurentum, a city in ancient Rome.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Loren" autocheck>> Loren</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Morgan</strong> [<em>Welsh</em>] <em>“Sea-born" or “sea-circle." From the Welsh name, Morgana of the Arthurian legends.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Morgan" autocheck>> Morgan</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Nikita</strong> [<em>Slavic</em>] <em>“Unconquered" or “victorious." Derived from the Greek name “Niketas.”</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Nikita" autocheck>> Nikita</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Nitya</strong> [<em>Sanskrit</em>] <em>“Eternal" or “perpetual." Stems from the Sanskrit word of the same spelling.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Nitya" autocheck>> Nitya</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Reese</strong> [<em>Welsh</em>] <em>“Enthusiasm." From the Welsh name Rhys.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Reese" autocheck>> Reese</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Rowan</strong> [<em>Irish</em>] <em>“Little red-haired one" or “rowan tree." Derived from the Gaelic name “Rúadhán” and the rowan tree.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Rowan" autocheck>> Rowan</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Rylan</strong> [<em>English</em>] <em>"Land where rye is grown" or "Rye meadow." Often derived from the Old English elements ryge meaning "rye" and land meaning "land" or "meadow."</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Rylan" autocheck>> Rylan</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Sasha</strong> [<em>Slavic</em>] <em>“Defender of mankind." Originally a diminutive of the Greek names “Alexander” or “Alexandra,” now used as a standalone name.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_firstname" "Sasha" autocheck>> Sasha</label><</hovertip>><</message>>
What is your nickname?
If you do not use a nickname, enter your first name.
<<textbox "$MC_nickname" "">>
What is your gender?
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_gender" "cisgender male" autocheck>> Cisgender Male</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_gender" "transgender male" autocheck>> Transgender Male</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_gender" "cisgender female" autocheck>> Cisgender Female</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_gender" "transgender female" autocheck>> Transgender Female</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_gender" "non-binary" autocheck>> Non-binary</label>
What are your pronouns?
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_pronouns" "He/Him/His" autocheck>> He/Him/His</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_pronouns" "She/Her/Hers" autocheck>> She/Her/Hers</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_pronouns" "They/Them/Theirs" autocheck>> They/Them/Theirs</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_pronouns" "Xe/Xem/Xyr" autocheck>> Xe/Xem/Xyr</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_pronouns" "Ze/Hir/Hirs" autocheck>> Ze/Hir/Hirs</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_pronouns" "Ey/Em/Eir" autocheck>> Ey/Em/Eir</label>
What title do you use?
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_Mr" "Mr" autocheck>> Mr.</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_Mr" "Ms" autocheck>> Ms.</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_Mr" "Mx" autocheck>> Mx.</label>
What is your height?
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_height" "very short" autocheck>> Very short (<=5’0)</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_height" "short" autocheck>> Short (5’1-5’4)</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_height" "average" autocheck>> Average (5’5-5’9)</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_height" "tall" autocheck>> Tall (5’10-6’0)</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_height" "very tall" autocheck>> Very tall (6’1-6’4)</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_height" "towering" autocheck>> Towering (6’5-6’8)</label>
<<button "Next" "Ch 1.7">><<if $MC_pronouns is "He/Him/His">><<set $HeShe to "He", $heshe to "he", $HimHer to "Him", $himher to "him", $HisHer to "His", $hisher to "his", $HisHers to "His", $hishers to "his", $Himself to "Himself", $himself to "himself", $plural to false>>
<<elseif $MC_pronouns is "She/Her/Hers">><<set $HeShe to "She", $heshe to "she", $HimHer to "Her", $himher to "her", $HisHer to "Her", $hisher to "her", $HisHers to "Hers", $hishers to "hers", $Himself to "Herself", $himself to "herself", $plural to false>>
<<elseif $MC_pronouns is "They/Them/Theirs">><<set $HeShe to "They", $heshe to "they", $HimHer to "Them", $himher to "them", $HisHer to "Their", $hisher to "their", $HisHers to "Theirs", $hishers to "theirs", $Himself to "Themself", $himself to "themself", $plural to true>>
<<elseif $MC_pronouns is "Xe/Xem/Xyr">><<set $HeShe to "Xe", $heshe to "xe", $HimHer to "Xem", $himher to "xem", $HisHer to "Xyr", $hisher to "xyr", $HisHers to "Xyrs",$hishers to "xyrs", $Himself to "Xemself", $himself to "xemself", $plural to false>>
<<elseif $MC_pronouns is "Ze/Hir/Hirs">><<set $HeShe to "Ze", $heshe to "ze", $HimHer to "Hir", $himher to "hir", $HisHer to "Hir", $hisher to "hir", $HisHers to "Hirs", $hishers to "hirs", $Himself to "Hirself", $himself to "hirself", $plural to false>>
<<elseif $MC_pronouns is "Ey/Em/Eir">><<set $HeShe to "Ey", $heshe to "ey", $HimHer to "Em", $himher to "em", $HisHer to "Eir", $hisher to "eir", $HisHers to "Eirs", $hishers to "eirs", $Himself to "Emself", $himself to "emself", $plural to false>>
<</if>>
<<if $MC_gender is "cisgender male" or $MC_gender is "transgender male">><<set $MC_starboy to "starboy"; $MC_handsome to "handsome"; $MC_boy to "boy"; $MC_guy to "guy"; $MC_guys to "guys"; $MC_asshole to "douchebag">><<elseif $MC_gender is "cisgender female" or $MC_gender is "transgender female">><<set $MC_starboy to "stargirl"; $MC_handsome to "beautiful"; $MC_boy to "girl"; $MC_guy to "girl"; $MC_guys to "girls"; $MC_asshole to "bitch">><<else>><<set $MC_starboy to "starkid"; $MC_handsome to "gorgeous"; $MC_boy to "one"; $MC_guy to "one"; $MC_guys to "ones"; $MC_asshole to "asshole">><</if>>
<</button>>
/*[[Ch 1.7]]*/<<if ($MC_firstname is "") or ($MC_nickname is "") or ($MC_height is "Unknown") or ($MC_Mr is "Unknown") or ($MC_pronouns is "Unknown") or ($MC_gender is "Unknown")>>Please return to the previous page and ensure that you have set your name, nickname, gender, pronouns, title, and height.<<else>><<notify 5s>>Blackthorne Diaries Unlocked!<</notify>>December 14, 2023
Dear $MC_firstname,
Welcome to Yale College! It is with the greatest enthusiasm that I write to congratulate you on your admission to the Class of 2028. The world has never been more in need of intelligent, strong, committed, energetic, and visionary young people. I am delighted that we have chosen you to be among those at Yale, and I hope you will join our community next fall.
For over three hundred years, Yale’s motto “Lux et Veritas”–“Light and Truth”–has guided Yale students, faculty, and alumni in their pursuit of knowledge and leadership. As a Yale student you will engage astonishing intellectual, cultural, and scientific resources. Your Yale education will equip you with the knowledge and wisdom to make an impact in any field, anywhere in the world.
The Yale experience is shaped by the people who make up its community. It is a place of belonging, respect, and friendship, where diversity and fellowship reinforce each other. I know who your fellow students will be, and I am confident you will not find in one place a more diverse, talented, and aspiring company of peers.
I recognize that this news is accompanied by the challenge of choosing your new home without the benefit of visiting this spring. Although I wish you could meet your new classmates and bond with the Yale community on campus, hundreds of your peers are ready to connect on digital platforms. Please join the 30 Bulldog Days of April at __admissions.yale.edu/admits__ all month long.
When you are ready, please reply to our offer of admission by completing the online reply form on your status portal. We ask that you reply by May 1, but if you require more time to reach your decision you may contact us to request an extension. If you have any questions please email __bulldog@yale.edu__.
We hope that you will choose to join us at Yale, and we look forward to celebrating your unique contribution to the University’s traditions, life, and mission. It is clear from your application that you are a person who lives for challenge, for excellence, and for making a difference in the world. Congratulations again on your achievements so far. We look forward to what is still to come.
Best wishes,
Jeremiah Quinlan
Dean of Undergraduate Admissions and Financial Aid
<<button "Next" "Ch 1.8">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 1.8]]*/<</if>>All at once you felt like the weight of the world had lifted off your shoulders. As if you had been pardoned of your burden by Atlas himself. You had done it. You were actually in. You pinched yourself hard to make sure you weren’t dreaming.
The acceptance letter from Yale stared back at you from your iMac, the official letterhead and the words of congratulations dancing in front of your eyes. Your hands trembled over the mouse as you went through the words again, reading it over for what must have been the tenth time. It was real. It was actually real.
You stand up abruptly, crossing to the tall window that overlooks the manicured gardens below. The scene is serene, almost otherworldly, with the skeletal branches of the trees adorned with delicate frost. You can see the gardeners at work, bundled against the cold, their movements methodical and precise as they clear the pathways leading to the estate.
*[[You lean against the window and laugh.|Ch 1.9.1]]
*[[You sigh and give yourself the time to finally relax.|Ch 1.9.2]]
*[[You clench your teeth and look ahead, this was just the beginning.|Ch 1.9.3]]
*[[You hum a little tune and just try to clear your head.|Ch 1.9.4]]A laugh bubbles up from your throat, surprising you with its suddenness. It starts out soft, almost tentative, but quickly grows in volume and intensity, filling the room with its sound. The laughter is cathartic, a release of all the tension and anxiety that had been building up inside you for months.
You turn away from the window, still laughing, and feel a dizzying rush of warmth and energy. Everything seems brighter, and clearer, as if a heavy curtain of smoke had been lifted from your world. You run to your door, flinging it open, and racing down the grand staircase, your feet barely touching the ornate steps with how fast you move.
The servants opt to give you a wide berth as you eventually settle yourself on the plush living room sofa. One of them fucked off to the kitchen to bring you your favorite drink:
<<message 'Iced tea'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "sweetened iced tea" autocheck>> Sweetened</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "unsweetened iced tea" autocheck>> Unsweetened</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Tea'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "chai tea" autocheck>> Chai</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "black tea" autocheck>> Black Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "green tea" autocheck>> Green Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "milk tea" autocheck>> Milk Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "oolong tea" autocheck>> Oolong Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "white tea" autocheck>> White Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "herbal tea" autocheck>> Herbal Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "pu-erh tea" autocheck>> Pu-erh Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "blue tea" autocheck>> Blue Tea</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Gatorade'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Lemon-Lime Gatorade" autocheck>> Lemon-Lime</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Orange Gatorade" autocheck>> Orange</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Fruit Punch Gatorade" autocheck>> Fruit Punch</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Raspberry Lemonade Gatorade" autocheck>> Raspberry Lemonade</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Cool Blue Gatorade" autocheck>> Cool Blue</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Arctic Blitz Gatorade" autocheck>> Arctic Blitz</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Frost Riptide Rush Gatorade" autocheck>> Frost Riptide Rush</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Glacier Freeze Gatorade" autocheck>> Glacier Freeze</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Frost Glacier Freeze Gatorade" autocheck>> Frost Glacier Freeze</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Berry Gatorade" autocheck>> Berry</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Cucumber Lime Gatorade" autocheck>> Cucumber Lime</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Grape Gatorade" autocheck>> Grape</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Tropical Mango Gatorade" autocheck>> Tropical Mango</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Powerade'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Mountain Berry Blast Powerade" autocheck>> Mountain Berry Blast</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Fruit Punch Powerade" autocheck>> Fruit Punch</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Orange Powerade" autocheck>> Orange</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Lemon Lime Powerade" autocheck>> Lemon Lime</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Grape Powerade" autocheck>> Grape</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Berry Cherry Powerade" autocheck>> Berry Cherry</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Tropical Mango Powerade" autocheck>> Tropical Mango</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Watermelon Strawberry Powerade" autocheck>> Watermelon Strawberry</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Red Bull'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Red Bull Original" autocheck>> Original</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Red Bull Blue" autocheck>> Blue</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Red Bull Red" autocheck>> Red</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Red Bull Yellow" autocheck>> Yellow</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Red Bull Green" autocheck>> Green</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Monster'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Energy" autocheck>> Energy</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Assault" autocheck>> Assault</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Sunrise" autocheck>> Sunrise</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Red" autocheck>> Red</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Blue" autocheck>> Blue</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Violet" autocheck>> Violet</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Paradise" autocheck>> Paradise</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Gold" autocheck>> Gold</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Peachy Keen" autocheck>> Peachy Keen</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster White Pineapple" autocheck>> White Pineapple</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Red Dragon" autocheck>> Red Dragon</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Mango Loco" autocheck>> Mango Loco</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Pacific Punch" autocheck>> Pacific Punch</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Sodas'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Coca-Cola" autocheck>> Coca-Cola</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Pepsi" autocheck>> Pepsi</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Sprite" autocheck>> Sprite</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Dr. Pepper" autocheck>> Dr. Pepper</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Mountain Dew" autocheck>> Mountain Dew</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "A&W Root Beer" autocheck>> A&W Root Beer</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Crush" autocheck>> Crush</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Fanta" autocheck>> Fanta</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Coffee'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Black Coffee" autocheck>> Black</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Espresso" autocheck>> Espresso</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Café Cubano" autocheck>> Café Cubano</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Café Con Leche" autocheck>> Café Con Leche</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Affogato" autocheck>> Affogato</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Latte" autocheck>> Latte</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Cappuccino" autocheck>> Cappuccino</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Macchiato" autocheck>> Macchiato</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Americano" autocheck>> Americano</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "French Press" autocheck>> French Press</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Cold Brew" autocheck>> Cold Brew</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Turkish Coffee" autocheck>> Turkish</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Mocha" autocheck>> Mocha</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Milkshake'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Vanilla Milkshake" autocheck>> Vanilla</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Chocolate Milkshake" autocheck>> Chocolate</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Strawberry Milkshake" autocheck>> Strawberry</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Cookies and Cream Milkshake" autocheck>> Cookies and Cream</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Peanut Butter Milkshake" autocheck>> Peanut Butter</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Nutella Milkshake" autocheck>> Nutella</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Tiramisu Milkshake" autocheck>> Tiramisu</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Mint Chocolate Chip Milkshake" autocheck>> Mint Chocolate Chip</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Salted Caramel Milkshake" autocheck>> Salted Caramel</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Banana Milkshake" autocheck>> Banana</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Mango Milkshake" autocheck>> Mango</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Blueberry Milkshake" autocheck>> Blueberry</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Blackberry Milkshake" autocheck>> Blackberry</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Raspberry Milkshake" autocheck>> Raspberry</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Others'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Water" autocheck>> Water</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Hot chocolate" autocheck>> Hot Chocolate</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Lemonade" autocheck>> Lemonade</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Kombucha" autocheck>> Kombucha</label>
<</message>>
<<button "Next" "Ch 1.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 1.10]]*/You sigh, a long, deep exhalation that seems to carry away all the stress and tension of the past eighteen years. You lean back against the window, feeling the cold glass against your shoulders, and close your eyes. For the first time in what felt like forever, you allow yourself to relax, to simply be in the moment.
The room is quiet, the only sound is the distant ticking of the antique clock on the mantelpiece. The weight of your achievement slowly settles over you, a comforting blanket of satisfaction and relief.
With a final deep breath, you push away from the window and make your way down the grand staircase, your steps slow and deliberate. You want to savor this feeling, to hold onto it for as long as possible.
The servants opt to give you a wide berth as you eventually settle yourself on the plush living room sofa. One of them fucked off to the kitchen to bring you your favorite drink:
<<message 'Iced tea'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "sweetened iced tea" autocheck>> Sweetened</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "unsweetened iced tea" autocheck>> Unsweetened</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Tea'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "chai tea" autocheck>> Chai</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "black tea" autocheck>> Black Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "green tea" autocheck>> Green Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "milk tea" autocheck>> Milk Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "oolong tea" autocheck>> Oolong Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "white tea" autocheck>> White Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "herbal tea" autocheck>> Herbal Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "pu-erh tea" autocheck>> Pu-erh Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "blue tea" autocheck>> Blue Tea</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Gatorade'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Lemon-Lime Gatorade" autocheck>> Lemon-Lime</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Orange Gatorade" autocheck>> Orange</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Fruit Punch Gatorade" autocheck>> Fruit Punch</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Raspberry Lemonade Gatorade" autocheck>> Raspberry Lemonade</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Cool Blue Gatorade" autocheck>> Cool Blue</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Arctic Blitz Gatorade" autocheck>> Arctic Blitz</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Frost Riptide Rush Gatorade" autocheck>> Frost Riptide Rush</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Glacier Freeze Gatorade" autocheck>> Glacier Freeze</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Frost Glacier Freeze Gatorade" autocheck>> Frost Glacier Freeze</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Berry Gatorade" autocheck>> Berry</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Cucumber Lime Gatorade" autocheck>> Cucumber Lime</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Grape Gatorade" autocheck>> Grape</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Tropical Mango Gatorade" autocheck>> Tropical Mango</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Powerade'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Mountain Berry Blast Powerade" autocheck>> Mountain Berry Blast</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Fruit Punch Powerade" autocheck>> Fruit Punch</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Orange Powerade" autocheck>> Orange</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Lemon Lime Powerade" autocheck>> Lemon Lime</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Grape Powerade" autocheck>> Grape</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Berry Cherry Powerade" autocheck>> Berry Cherry</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Tropical Mango Powerade" autocheck>> Tropical Mango</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Watermelon Strawberry Powerade" autocheck>> Watermelon Strawberry</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Red Bull'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Red Bull Original" autocheck>> Original</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Red Bull Blue" autocheck>> Blue</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Red Bull Red" autocheck>> Red</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Red Bull Yellow" autocheck>> Yellow</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Red Bull Green" autocheck>> Green</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Monster'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Energy" autocheck>> Energy</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Assault" autocheck>> Assault</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Sunrise" autocheck>> Sunrise</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Red" autocheck>> Red</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Blue" autocheck>> Blue</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Violet" autocheck>> Violet</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Paradise" autocheck>> Paradise</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Gold" autocheck>> Gold</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Peachy Keen" autocheck>> Peachy Keen</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster White Pineapple" autocheck>> White Pineapple</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Red Dragon" autocheck>> Red Dragon</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Mango Loco" autocheck>> Mango Loco</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Pacific Punch" autocheck>> Pacific Punch</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Sodas'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Coca-Cola" autocheck>> Coca-Cola</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Pepsi" autocheck>> Pepsi</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Sprite" autocheck>> Sprite</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Dr. Pepper" autocheck>> Dr. Pepper</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Mountain Dew" autocheck>> Mountain Dew</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "A&W Root Beer" autocheck>> A&W Root Beer</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Crush" autocheck>> Crush</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Fanta" autocheck>> Fanta</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Coffee'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Black Coffee" autocheck>> Black</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Espresso" autocheck>> Espresso</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Café Cubano" autocheck>> Café Cubano</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Café Con Leche" autocheck>> Café Con Leche</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Affogato" autocheck>> Affogato</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Latte" autocheck>> Latte</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Cappuccino" autocheck>> Cappuccino</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Macchiato" autocheck>> Macchiato</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Americano" autocheck>> Americano</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "French Press" autocheck>> French Press</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Cold Brew" autocheck>> Cold Brew</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Turkish Coffee" autocheck>> Turkish</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Mocha" autocheck>> Mocha</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Milkshake'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Vanilla Milkshake" autocheck>> Vanilla</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Chocolate Milkshake" autocheck>> Chocolate</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Strawberry Milkshake" autocheck>> Strawberry</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Cookies and Cream Milkshake" autocheck>> Cookies and Cream</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Peanut Butter Milkshake" autocheck>> Peanut Butter</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Nutella Milkshake" autocheck>> Nutella</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Tiramisu Milkshake" autocheck>> Tiramisu</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Mint Chocolate Chip Milkshake" autocheck>> Mint Chocolate Chip</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Salted Caramel Milkshake" autocheck>> Salted Caramel</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Banana Milkshake" autocheck>> Banana</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Mango Milkshake" autocheck>> Mango</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Blueberry Milkshake" autocheck>> Blueberry</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Blackberry Milkshake" autocheck>> Blackberry</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Raspberry Milkshake" autocheck>> Raspberry</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Others'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Water" autocheck>> Water</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Hot chocolate" autocheck>> Hot Chocolate</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Lemonade" autocheck>> Lemonade</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Kombucha" autocheck>> Kombucha</label>
<</message>>
<<button "Next" "Ch 1.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 1.10]]*/You clench your teeth, eyes narrowing as you look out at the snow-covered grounds. The letter displayed on the computer screen is proof of your hard work and determination, but you aren’t foolish enough to become complacent when this is just the first of many steps. Yale was a new challenge, a new arena where you will have to prove yourself all over again.
The scene outside is tranquil, but inside, you feel a fierce resolve burning. You have studied your ass off to get here, and you knew that the pressure was only going to be doubled now. College wasn’t a walk in the park. But you are ready. There was no way you would back down now. You are going to surpass every expectation that was set upon you by yourself or by others.
You turn away from the window, your jaw set, and march down the grand staircase with purpose. Each step echoed with her determination, a rhythm that matched the steady beat of your heart.
The servants opt to give you a wide berth as you eventually settle yourself on the plush living room sofa. One of them fucked off to the kitchen to bring you your favorite drink:
<<message 'Iced tea'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "sweetened iced tea" autocheck>> Sweetened</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "unsweetened iced tea" autocheck>> Unsweetened</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Tea'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "chai tea" autocheck>> Chai</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "black tea" autocheck>> Black Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "green tea" autocheck>> Green Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "milk tea" autocheck>> Milk Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "oolong tea" autocheck>> Oolong Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "white tea" autocheck>> White Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "herbal tea" autocheck>> Herbal Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "pu-erh tea" autocheck>> Pu-erh Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "blue tea" autocheck>> Blue Tea</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Gatorade'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Lemon-Lime Gatorade" autocheck>> Lemon-Lime</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Orange Gatorade" autocheck>> Orange</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Fruit Punch Gatorade" autocheck>> Fruit Punch</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Raspberry Lemonade Gatorade" autocheck>> Raspberry Lemonade</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Cool Blue Gatorade" autocheck>> Cool Blue</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Arctic Blitz Gatorade" autocheck>> Arctic Blitz</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Frost Riptide Rush Gatorade" autocheck>> Frost Riptide Rush</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Glacier Freeze Gatorade" autocheck>> Glacier Freeze</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Frost Glacier Freeze Gatorade" autocheck>> Frost Glacier Freeze</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Berry Gatorade" autocheck>> Berry</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Cucumber Lime Gatorade" autocheck>> Cucumber Lime</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Grape Gatorade" autocheck>> Grape</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Tropical Mango Gatorade" autocheck>> Tropical Mango</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Powerade'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Mountain Berry Blast Powerade" autocheck>> Mountain Berry Blast</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Fruit Punch Powerade" autocheck>> Fruit Punch</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Orange Powerade" autocheck>> Orange</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Lemon Lime Powerade" autocheck>> Lemon Lime</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Grape Powerade" autocheck>> Grape</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Berry Cherry Powerade" autocheck>> Berry Cherry</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Tropical Mango Powerade" autocheck>> Tropical Mango</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Watermelon Strawberry Powerade" autocheck>> Watermelon Strawberry</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Red Bull'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Red Bull Original" autocheck>> Original</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Red Bull Blue" autocheck>> Blue</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Red Bull Red" autocheck>> Red</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Red Bull Yellow" autocheck>> Yellow</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Red Bull Green" autocheck>> Green</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Monster'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Energy" autocheck>> Energy</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Assault" autocheck>> Assault</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Sunrise" autocheck>> Sunrise</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Red" autocheck>> Red</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Blue" autocheck>> Blue</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Violet" autocheck>> Violet</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Paradise" autocheck>> Paradise</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Gold" autocheck>> Gold</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Peachy Keen" autocheck>> Peachy Keen</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster White Pineapple" autocheck>> White Pineapple</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Red Dragon" autocheck>> Red Dragon</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Mango Loco" autocheck>> Mango Loco</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Pacific Punch" autocheck>> Pacific Punch</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Sodas'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Coca-Cola" autocheck>> Coca-Cola</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Pepsi" autocheck>> Pepsi</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Sprite" autocheck>> Sprite</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Dr. Pepper" autocheck>> Dr. Pepper</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Mountain Dew" autocheck>> Mountain Dew</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "A&W Root Beer" autocheck>> A&W Root Beer</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Crush" autocheck>> Crush</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Fanta" autocheck>> Fanta</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Coffee'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Black Coffee" autocheck>> Black</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Espresso" autocheck>> Espresso</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Café Cubano" autocheck>> Café Cubano</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Café Con Leche" autocheck>> Café Con Leche</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Affogato" autocheck>> Affogato</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Latte" autocheck>> Latte</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Cappuccino" autocheck>> Cappuccino</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Macchiato" autocheck>> Macchiato</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Americano" autocheck>> Americano</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "French Press" autocheck>> French Press</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Cold Brew" autocheck>> Cold Brew</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Turkish Coffee" autocheck>> Turkish</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Mocha" autocheck>> Mocha</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Milkshake'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Vanilla Milkshake" autocheck>> Vanilla</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Chocolate Milkshake" autocheck>> Chocolate</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Strawberry Milkshake" autocheck>> Strawberry</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Cookies and Cream Milkshake" autocheck>> Cookies and Cream</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Peanut Butter Milkshake" autocheck>> Peanut Butter</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Nutella Milkshake" autocheck>> Nutella</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Tiramisu Milkshake" autocheck>> Tiramisu</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Mint Chocolate Chip Milkshake" autocheck>> Mint Chocolate Chip</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Salted Caramel Milkshake" autocheck>> Salted Caramel</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Banana Milkshake" autocheck>> Banana</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Mango Milkshake" autocheck>> Mango</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Blueberry Milkshake" autocheck>> Blueberry</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Blackberry Milkshake" autocheck>> Blackberry</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Raspberry Milkshake" autocheck>> Raspberry</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Others'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Water" autocheck>> Water</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Hot chocolate" autocheck>> Hot Chocolate</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Lemonade" autocheck>> Lemonade</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Kombucha" autocheck>> Kombucha</label>
<</message>>
<<button "Next" "Ch 1.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 1.10]]*/You begin to hum a little tune, a melody that has been stuck in your head for days. Did you hear it on the radio, or was it a random song that came up when you hit Magic Shuffle on Spotify? It doesn’t really matter. The sound is soft and soothing, a counterpoint to the chaotic whirlwind of thoughts that has been consuming you. You lean against the window, the cold glass a grounding presence, and let the music wash over you.
The notes flow effortlessly, a simple but beautiful melody that drapes you in a blanket of calmness. You have achieved something incredible, something that would potentially change everything for your future. But for now, you just want to enjoy this moment, to let the music carry you away to a land of serenity.
With a final hum, you push away from the window and make your way down the grand staircase, your steps light and carefree.
The servants opt to give you a wide berth as you eventually settle yourself on the plush living room sofa. One of them fucked off to the kitchen to bring you your favorite drink:
<<message 'Iced tea'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "sweetened iced tea" autocheck>> Sweetened</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "unsweetened iced tea" autocheck>> Unsweetened</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Tea'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "chai tea" autocheck>> Chai</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "black tea" autocheck>> Black Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "green tea" autocheck>> Green Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "milk tea" autocheck>> Milk Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "oolong tea" autocheck>> Oolong Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "white tea" autocheck>> White Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "herbal tea" autocheck>> Herbal Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "pu-erh tea" autocheck>> Pu-erh Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "blue tea" autocheck>> Blue Tea</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Gatorade'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Lemon-Lime Gatorade" autocheck>> Lemon-Lime</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Orange Gatorade" autocheck>> Orange</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Fruit Punch Gatorade" autocheck>> Fruit Punch</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Raspberry Lemonade Gatorade" autocheck>> Raspberry Lemonade</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Cool Blue Gatorade" autocheck>> Cool Blue</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Arctic Blitz Gatorade" autocheck>> Arctic Blitz</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Frost Riptide Rush Gatorade" autocheck>> Frost Riptide Rush</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Glacier Freeze Gatorade" autocheck>> Glacier Freeze</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Frost Glacier Freeze Gatorade" autocheck>> Frost Glacier Freeze</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Berry Gatorade" autocheck>> Berry</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Cucumber Lime Gatorade" autocheck>> Cucumber Lime</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Grape Gatorade" autocheck>> Grape</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Tropical Mango Gatorade" autocheck>> Tropical Mango</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Powerade'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Mountain Berry Blast Powerade" autocheck>> Mountain Berry Blast</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Fruit Punch Powerade" autocheck>> Fruit Punch</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Orange Powerade" autocheck>> Orange</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Lemon Lime Powerade" autocheck>> Lemon Lime</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Grape Powerade" autocheck>> Grape</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Berry Cherry Powerade" autocheck>> Berry Cherry</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Tropical Mango Powerade" autocheck>> Tropical Mango</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Watermelon Strawberry Powerade" autocheck>> Watermelon Strawberry</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Red Bull'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Red Bull Original" autocheck>> Original</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Red Bull Blue" autocheck>> Blue</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Red Bull Red" autocheck>> Red</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Red Bull Yellow" autocheck>> Yellow</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Red Bull Green" autocheck>> Green</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Monster'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Energy" autocheck>> Energy</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Assault" autocheck>> Assault</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Sunrise" autocheck>> Sunrise</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Red" autocheck>> Red</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Blue" autocheck>> Blue</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Violet" autocheck>> Violet</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Paradise" autocheck>> Paradise</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Gold" autocheck>> Gold</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Peachy Keen" autocheck>> Peachy Keen</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster White Pineapple" autocheck>> White Pineapple</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Red Dragon" autocheck>> Red Dragon</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Mango Loco" autocheck>> Mango Loco</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Pacific Punch" autocheck>> Pacific Punch</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Sodas'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Coca-Cola" autocheck>> Coca-Cola</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Pepsi" autocheck>> Pepsi</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Sprite" autocheck>> Sprite</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Dr. Pepper" autocheck>> Dr. Pepper</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Mountain Dew" autocheck>> Mountain Dew</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "A&W Root Beer" autocheck>> A&W Root Beer</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Crush" autocheck>> Crush</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Fanta" autocheck>> Fanta</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Coffee'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Black Coffee" autocheck>> Black</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Espresso" autocheck>> Espresso</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Café Cubano" autocheck>> Café Cubano</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Café Con Leche" autocheck>> Café Con Leche</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Affogato" autocheck>> Affogato</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Latte" autocheck>> Latte</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Cappuccino" autocheck>> Cappuccino</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Macchiato" autocheck>> Macchiato</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Americano" autocheck>> Americano</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "French Press" autocheck>> French Press</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Cold Brew" autocheck>> Cold Brew</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Turkish Coffee" autocheck>> Turkish</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Mocha" autocheck>> Mocha</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Milkshake'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Vanilla Milkshake" autocheck>> Vanilla</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Chocolate Milkshake" autocheck>> Chocolate</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Strawberry Milkshake" autocheck>> Strawberry</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Cookies and Cream Milkshake" autocheck>> Cookies and Cream</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Peanut Butter Milkshake" autocheck>> Peanut Butter</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Nutella Milkshake" autocheck>> Nutella</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Tiramisu Milkshake" autocheck>> Tiramisu</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Mint Chocolate Chip Milkshake" autocheck>> Mint Chocolate Chip</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Salted Caramel Milkshake" autocheck>> Salted Caramel</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Banana Milkshake" autocheck>> Banana</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Mango Milkshake" autocheck>> Mango</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Blueberry Milkshake" autocheck>> Blueberry</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Blackberry Milkshake" autocheck>> Blackberry</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Raspberry Milkshake" autocheck>> Raspberry</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Others'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Water" autocheck>> Water</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Hot chocolate" autocheck>> Hot Chocolate</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Lemonade" autocheck>> Lemonade</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Kombucha" autocheck>> Kombucha</label>
<</message>>
<<button "Next" "Ch 1.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 1.10]]*/<<if $MC_favoritedrink is "Unknown">>Please return to the previous page and select a favorite drink.<<else>><<notify>>Saved!<</notify>>You sip on your drink while keeping an eye on the clock. Though you feel like picking up your phone and calling your dad right then and there, you know that it’d be way better to watch his reaction when he’s there in person with you. You had already broken the promise of waiting till he was here to check your result, this is the least you can do now.
A yawn pries your maw wide open, and the fervid breath of winter spills across the Seattle suburb, vast as an empty belly: remarkably expansive, stretched-thin, wet, and white. The Washington snow is hard on the population and it will take people twice as long to get to their respective destinations.
It isn’t that you hate the city you grew up in. It just feels like sometimes everything rushes by too quickly before you have the chance to fully grasp it. And you are smack dab in the middle of it all.
Thinking back to your childhood years, you remember scenes of beach days, British nannies, trips around the world, skiing with your father in the Swiss Alps, visiting your paternal grandmother in Amsterdam, playing make-believe with the actual friends you made in Rhode Island, snooty prep school students and teachers alike. You aren’t a hypocrite. You know you’ve had an upbringing that people will sell their kids for. But there was always something missing. Something which made you seem hollow.
The concept of a “fatal flaw”, or as the Greek tragedies say, a <em>hamartia</em>, has always been fascinating to you. An idea that there is something so ingrained in your very soul that it has the power to utterly and devastatingly destroy you. It is as beautiful as it is tragic.
Now, with that being said, the question remains: What is your fatal flaw?
*<<link "Hubris" "Ch 1.11">><<set $MC_fatalflaw to "Hubris">><</link>><em>—you’ve often been told you’re too self-assured. There’s a fine line between confidence and arrogance, and you’ve danced on that line, sometimes crossing it. Could your self-belief, so vital for ambition, be a flaw that clouds your judgment?</em>
*<<link "Overreach" "Ch 1.11">><<set $MC_fatalflaw to "Overreach">><</link>><em>—your ambitions have always been sky-high. From the hours spent during your extracurriculars to the number of AP courses you tackled, you’ve set goals that sometimes felt beyond your grasp. Is your drive to achieve greatness pushing you too far, risking everything to the desire of wanting more?</em>
*<<link "Paranoia" "Ch 1.11">><<set $MC_fatalflaw to "Paranoia">><</link>><em>—the shadow of mistrust can distort reality. You’ve sensed it within yourself at times—doubts about the intentions of those around you. Could this irrational distrust be setting up barriers between you and the world?</em>
*<<link "Indifference" "Ch 1.11">><<set $MC_fatalflaw to "Indifference">><</link>><em>—you’re aware that your life of privilege sometimes shields you from the hardships that a lot of people face around you. Has the blanket of comfort and luxury led to a lack of empathy, leaving you distant from the struggles of those less fortunate than you?</em>
*<<link "Personal Loyalty" "Ch 1.11">><<set $MC_fatalflaw to "Personal Loyalty">><</link>><em>—you’ve always been fiercely loyal, often at a great personal cost. Your willingness to protect those you care about can be a double-edged sword. How far will you go to make sure that the people that you care about are safe?</em>
*<<link "Impulsiveness" "Ch 1.11">><<set $MC_fatalflaw to "Impulsiveness">><</link>><em>—the spontaneity of life has had its allure, no doubt. But your decisions, made on a whim or in the heat of the moment, often have brought forth unfortunate consequences. Could your tendency to act without full consideration lead you into troublesome situations?</em>
*<<link "Idealism" "Ch 1.11">><<set $MC_fatalflaw to "Idealism">><</link>><em>—your belief in the inherent goodness of people and the righteousness of your actions is admirable but it is also terribly naïve. Do your high ideals sometimes blind you to practical realities or the darker sides of human nature?</em>
*<<link "Stubbornness" "Ch 1.11">><<set $MC_fatalflaw to "Stubbornness">><</link>><em>—once you’ve set your mind on something, you rarely waver. This steadfastness can be a strength, but could it also lead to conflict or missed opportunities when you refuse to adapt or reconsider?</em>
*<<link "Grudges" "Ch 1.11">><<set $MC_fatalflaw to "Grudges">><</link>><em>—you’ve carried your share of them over the years. Whether it’s against people who’ve wronged you or situations that didn’t turn out as you hoped, holding onto these resentments has opened a chasm in your heart that can never be filled. Could your tendency to hold grudges be the one that distorts your perception and keeps you anchored to past grievances?</em>
/*[[Ch 1.11]]*/<</if>>You didn’t come to that conclusion overnight, and it had taken you long hours of musing to understand yourself properly. A step which had, hopefully, made you stray at least a little away from your own personal brand of destruction. But then again, you have never been the type to want to tempt the Fates.
Even though you once thought that your inner emptiness was unconventional and ultimately useless to what you aimed to do in your life, it was never as if you could grab a crowbar and wrench it out of yourself. It was a part of you as much as your vital organs. It lived with you, breathed with you, and most of all, grew with you.
Your first-ever therapist suggested that the sudden nihilistic ideas that you started possessing at a young age were due to your mother passing away so soon.
“Prolonged Grief Disorder,” he called it.
“Bullshit,” you renamed it.
After a while of listening to him yap about different stages of grief, followed by a peek you gave him at your dictionary of colorful swear words you had at your disposal at just eleven years of age, your father had to be called in order to pick you up thirty minutes before the session was supposed to be over.
He wasn’t mad at you. All he did was look at you with the helplessness of a father who didn’t know what to do after a profound loss and was equally clueless on how to help his $MC_son through the same struggle.
*[[Over the years, you have learned to cope with the grief.|Ch 1.12.1]]
*[[Despite your father’s worries, you have made peace with your loss.|Ch 1.12.2]]
*[[The only thing that you have learned to do now is to just block the thoughts.|Ch 1.12.3]]It wasn’t easy then and it still isn’t easy now. The pain of losing your mother never fully left you; it lingered in the background, a constant shadow that colored your perception of the world. Over the years, you have learned to cope with the grief in various ways, each method a small step toward finding a semblance of normalcy. However, you often find yourself retreating into your thoughts, seeking solace in the familiar emptiness that has become a part of you.
Recently, you stumbled upon an entry you made in an old journal from when you were around fifteen: “The streets are teeming with facades, each building a monument to the fleeting nature of human endeavor, each person a walking testament to the futility of ambition. The vibrant colors of life here are but a thin layer of paint over the grim reality of entropy and decline. It is a place where hope is but a mirage, a cruel joke played by the universe to mock those who dare to seek meaning in the chaos.
Every corner turned reveals another scene of masked despair, where laughter echoes hollow and joy is a fleeting spark in an endless night. The grotesque processes of birth, procreation, and demise unfold with savage indifference, their ugliness carefully hidden beneath layers of societal norms and cultural pretenses. The Greeks called it miasma, a pollution of the spirit, and here it permeates every aspect of existence.
In this theater of delusion, the actors wear their masks with conviction, never realizing they are part of a farce. They invest their lives in the deception of progress, the lie of permanence, and the inevitability of death. They cling to these falsehoods as if they can stave off the abyss, as if their faith in these shifting sands can grant them some reprieve from the void that awaits us all.
Here, in this place of decay, the true nature of existence is laid bare: a relentless march toward nothingness, where every effort is ultimately undone, and every life is but a brief, flickering candle in an unforgiving storm."
Suffice to say, you were quite the dramatic nihilist for the better part of your early teenage years. Sometimes you feel like the only reason you hadn’t become completely insane and joined a cult online was because your father was relentless in finding you a therapist that you didn’t immediately hate the guts of. He also made sure to admit you to the best private school in Washington, Aldervale Preparatory Academy, so there was never a shortage of distractions from your thoughts.
Sometimes, you really couldn’t fault your father for his tendency to throw money at problems that he was unable to solve.
<<button "Next" "Ch 1.13">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 1.13]]*/Despite your father’s worries, you have made peace with your loss in your own way. It’s not that you’ve forgotten your mother or moved on completely, but you’ve found a way to coexist with the pain. You carry it with you, a quiet companion that follows you like a shadow–omnipresent, but ultimately harmless.
Recently, you stumbled upon an entry you made in an old journal from when you were around fifteen: “The streets are teeming with facades, each building a monument to the fleeting nature of human endeavor, each person a walking testament to the futility of ambition. The vibrant colors of life here are but a thin layer of paint over the grim reality of entropy and decline. It is a place where hope is but a mirage, a cruel joke played by the universe to mock those who dare to seek meaning in the chaos.
Every corner turned reveals another scene of masked despair, where laughter echoes hollow and joy is a fleeting spark in an endless night. The grotesque processes of birth, procreation, and demise unfold with savage indifference, their ugliness carefully hidden beneath layers of societal norms and cultural pretenses. The Greeks called it miasma, a pollution of the spirit, and here it permeates every aspect of existence.
In this theater of delusion, the actors wear their masks with conviction, never realizing they are part of a farce. They invest their lives in the deception of progress, the lie of permanence, and the inevitability of death. They cling to these falsehoods as if they can stave off the abyss, as if their faith in these shifting sands can grant them some reprieve from the void that awaits us all.
Here, in this place of decay, the true nature of existence is laid bare: a relentless march toward nothingness, where every effort is ultimately undone, and every life is but a brief, flickering candle in an unforgiving storm."
Suffice to say, you were quite the dramatic nihilist for the better part of your early teenage years. Sometimes you feel like the only reason you hadn’t become completely insane and joined a cult online was because your father was relentless in finding you a therapist that you didn’t immediately hate the guts of. He also made sure to admit you to the best private school in Washington, Aldervale Preparatory Academy, so there was never a shortage of distractions from your thoughts.
Sometimes, you really couldn’t fault your father for his tendency to throw money at problems that he was unable to solve.
<<button "Next" "Ch 1.13">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 1.13]]*/The only thing that you have learned to do now is to just block the thoughts. When the memories threaten to overwhelm you, you’ve developed the ability to compartmentalize, to push the sorrow into a corner of your mind where it can’t consume you. It’s a skill you’ve honed over the years, a necessary defense mechanism to navigate the complexities of your emotions.
Recently, you stumbled upon an entry you made in an old journal from when you were around fifteen: “The streets are teeming with facades, each building a monument to the fleeting nature of human endeavor, each person a walking testament to the futility of ambition. The vibrant colors of life here are but a thin layer of paint over the grim reality of entropy and decline. It is a place where hope is but a mirage, a cruel joke played by the universe to mock those who dare to seek meaning in the chaos.
Every corner turned reveals another scene of masked despair, where laughter echoes hollow and joy is a fleeting spark in an endless night. The grotesque processes of birth, procreation, and demise unfold with savage indifference, their ugliness carefully hidden beneath layers of societal norms and cultural pretenses. The Greeks called it miasma, a pollution of the spirit, and here it permeates every aspect of existence.
In this theater of delusion, the actors wear their masks with conviction, never realizing they are part of a farce. They invest their lives in the deception of progress, the lie of permanence, and the inevitability of death. They cling to these falsehoods as if they can stave off the abyss, as if their faith in these shifting sands can grant them some reprieve from the void that awaits us all.
Here, in this place of decay, the true nature of existence is laid bare: a relentless march toward nothingness, where every effort is ultimately undone, and every life is but a brief, flickering candle in an unforgiving storm."
Suffice to say, you were quite the dramatic nihilist for the better part of your early teenage years. Sometimes you feel like the only reason you hadn’t become completely insane and joined a cult online was because your father was relentless in finding you a therapist that you didn’t immediately hate the guts of. He also made sure to admit you to the best private school in Washington, Aldervale Preparatory Academy, so there was never a shortage of distractions from your thoughts.
Sometimes, you really couldn’t fault your father for his tendency to throw money at problems that he was unable to solve.
<<button "Next" "Ch 1.13">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 1.13]]*/Your father’s entry was signaled by the rhythmic stomps of his Chambelimoc on the polished marble tiles. There’s not much for you to do as he shrugs off his coat and a manservant is already taking it off his hands to place it in the laundry.
Elias hadn’t had a very productive day and frankly, he pitied the incompetent bastards that the company had sent for the meeting. The deal was off and $MC_surname Industries was better off for it. He had no urge to get on the sinking ship named Castermaine LLC with loan sharks swimming in the waters around it.
You don’t miss the way your father’s eyes soften considerably as his gaze falls on you. His weathered face, crinkling amber eyes, and salt-and-pepper hair make him look way older than someone who is pushing forty.
“How did the meeting go?” you ask, picking up on his stormy mood from when he entered the room.
“About as well as you’d expect from these blundering baboons these days,” he answers as he lounges across from you, picking up the cup of strong espresso that one of the maids had quickly put on the coffee table.
You shake your head. “Not very nicely, then.”
Your father shrugs. “If they had actually sent someone competent at their job, I would’ve at least considered lending a helping hand. As it stands now, I give them a month before their very foundation collapses along with their dwindling stocks.” He takes a sip of his espresso before training his eyes on you. “By the way, apple, want to see the results of the Early Action at Yale?”
“About that…” you begin sheepishly. “I may have gotten a bit too impatient and saw the result already.”
A chuckle comes out of your father. “I suppose I can’t fault you for that.”
“You’re not upset then?”
“My dear apple, your old man was once in the same position as you, you know? It is clear as day that the anxious apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
You groan at the pun involving your nickname. Not to mention that the entire reason why he even started calling you that was because he found it hilarious that the only reason you had managed to get rid of your loose incisor was because you bit into an apple and it became embedded in it.
*[[But you won’t lie, the awful puns and dad jokes are something that you don’t mind hearing.|Ch 1.14]]
*[[The passing years have made you start making dad jokes too, it is too infectious!|Ch 1.14]]
*[[If there’s any high power hearing you right now, please make it stop!|Ch 1.14]]“Dad, you’re so uncool,” you scrunch up your nose and roll your head back.
“Um,” he says, pointing his index finger up, “what the sigma?”
Your jaw drops, horrified. “Never say that ever again.”
“You’re just salty that you don’t have any W rizz,” he continues despite your protests.
“Stop that!” you manage through your tears of laughter. “Who even taught you all that?”
“Facebook has been a great teacher.”
“We need to unplug you for a while,” you say, shaking your head. “My father is not joining the brainrot culture.”
If any of your father’s business partners or employees saw him right now, they’d be convinced that you were talking to a doppelganger of his. But as the truth stands, this is how he has always been with his family and loved ones.
“Alright alright,” he relents, although you wonder if it was because he thought you’d deactivate his Facebook. “Back to the results at hand, judging by how you don’t look like you received the news that the world was ending, I assume that you were accepted?”
You roll your eyes and lean back on the sofa. “You can at least pretend to be excited for me.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, dear apple, I am. But the fact also remains that I had never ever doubted that you’d get in.”
He wasn’t lying. From the day that you had told him that Yale was the university that you wanted to attend, no matter what it took, he would always speak as though it was written in the stars that it would happen. “What color will you paint your dorm walls?” “If you befriend the RA, they tend to invite you to almost all parties held in the Halls.” “The morning classes can be a drag but it gives you more time to nap later in the day.”
Whenever he’d say something like that, you’d hiss at him to not jinx you. But now you know that he wasn’t trying, your father just knew that it was inevitable you’d get everything you set your mind to. Nobody had ever believed in you like he did, except for maybe your late mother.
<<button "Next" "Ch 1.15">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 1.15]]*/“I’m seeing someone,” your father breaks the silence after dinner as the plates are being whisked away.
You almost drop your phone on the dining table as you look up at him, mouth open in shock. “Wha– When did that happen?”
“About a month now,” he admits, looking a little uncomfortable. “We made it official last week.”
There’s an awkward silence in the atmosphere as you try to find the words to say. Finally, you let out the unspoken question in the air. “What about mom?”
Your father closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I loved her, you know I did. I will always love her. But Lo– I mean, my girlfriend,” he coughs, uncharacteristically bashful, “I like her a lot. A part of my heart will always belong to your mother, but I want to try this, I really do.”
*[['“I guess it was about time you’d move on, huh.”'|Ch 1.16.1]]
*[['“I don’t know, Dad. I need some time to process this.”'|Ch 1.16.2]]
*[['“Well, when can I meet her?”'|Ch 1.16.3]]He can’t help but wince at your slightly barbed tone. Your father knows that you weren’t trying to be so outwardly rude, but it was clear as day that you were not happy about the new developments in his love life.
“I don’t mean for it to hurt you, apple, I just,” he takes a deep breath. “I just didn’t want to keep it a secret from you.”
You shake your head and look away from him. “I bet she’s a fucking golddigger.”
“You don’t think your old man is that bad-looking, do you?” your father tries to joke but then tries to clarify. “She’s not after my money. She is very well-off herself. We run in the same circles.”
You clench your jaw. Even if she was the owner of the moon, you wouldn’t have accepted her as your father’s girlfriend; much less your future stepmother if he decided to marry her. The mere thought makes you weirded out.
After a few seconds of silence, your father speaks up again. “Despite whatever you may be thinking, I hope you give her a chance before giving your final judgment. I truly think you won’t be able to hate her at all.”
You glance at your father, the short stubble on his face which does a poor job of hiding the puckered scar on the right side of his cheek. The hunch of his back which he abruptly corrects every five minutes. The smell of Cuban cigars lingering on him, dampened only by the ever-present scent of lavender which followed every person who lived in the estate. He was toweringly tall, ruggedly handsome in a way you’d expect lumberjacks to be, not a businessman, and carried himself with a self-assurance reminiscent of a king. You weren’t very surprised that he’d have no shortage of admirers. But this woman was the only one he had given the chance to know him in the eight years following your mother’s demise.
Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for your father to finally heal from the scars that her death had left on him. And maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for you to be a little less selfish when it came to having his affections all to yourself.
“She has a kid your age,” your father continues, trying to fill the silence. “Goes to the same school as you too.”
You wince. It better not be someone you
*[[dated. The thought of seeing him again is daunting. [allo]|Ch 1.17][$MC_attraction to "allo_men"]]
*[[dated. The thought of seeing her again is daunting. [allo]|Ch 1.17][$MC_attraction to "allo_women"]]
*[[dated. The thought of seeing them again is daunting. [allo]|Ch 1.17][$MC_attraction to "allo_any"]]
*[[dated. The thought of seeing him again is daunting. [demisexual]|Ch 1.17][$MC_attraction to "demi_men"]]
*[[dated. The thought of seeing her again is daunting. [demisexual]|Ch 1.17][$MC_attraction to "demi_women"]]
*[[dated. The thought of seeing them again is daunting. [demisexual]|Ch 1.17][$MC_attraction to "demi_any"]]
*[[dated. The thought of seeing him again is daunting. [ace]|Ch 1.17][$MC_attraction to "ace_men"]]
*[[dated. The thought of seeing her again is daunting. [ace]|Ch 1.17][$MC_attraction to "ace_women"]]
*[[dated. The thought of seeing them again is daunting. [ace]|Ch 1.17][$MC_attraction to "ace_any"]]He nods, his expression softening. “Take all the time you need. I know this is a lot to take in.”
You give him a strained smile, mind already running a thousand miles per second. The grief feels fresh again, as if you’re mourning her loss anew. It’s hard to reconcile your father’s new relationship with your loyalty to her memory.
“Is she… nice to you?” you ask awkwardly. How the hell are you supposed to quiz your own dad about his love life? Isn’t it usually the other way around?
“She is,” he smiles at you, the edges of his eyes crinkling as he recognizes the effort you are making. “She makes me very happy.”
“That’s… good,” you decide to say, nodding even more awkwardly.
After a few seconds of silence, your father speaks up again. “Despite whatever you may be thinking, I hope you give her a chance before giving your final judgment. I truly think you won’t be able to hate her at all.”
You glance at your father, the short stubble on his face which does a poor job of hiding the puckered scar on the right side of his cheek. The hunch of his back which he abruptly corrects every five minutes. The smell of Cuban cigars lingering on him, dampened only by the ever-present scent of lavender which followed every person who lived in the estate. He was toweringly tall, ruggedly handsome in a way you’d expect lumberjacks to be, not a businessman, and carried himself with a self-assurance reminiscent of a king. You weren’t very surprised that he’d have no shortage of admirers. But this woman was the only one he had given the chance to know him in the eight years following your mother’s demise.
Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for your father to finally heal from the scars that her death had left on him. And maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for you to be a little less selfish when it came to having his affections all to yourself.
“She has a kid your age,” your father continues, trying to fill the silence. “Goes to the same school as you too.”
You wince. It better not be someone you
*[[dated. The thought of seeing him again is daunting. [allo]|Ch 1.17][$MC_attraction to "allo_men"]]
*[[dated. The thought of seeing her again is daunting. [allo]|Ch 1.17][$MC_attraction to "allo_women"]]
*[[dated. The thought of seeing them again is daunting. [allo]|Ch 1.17][$MC_attraction to "allo_any"]]
*[[dated. The thought of seeing him again is daunting. [demisexual]|Ch 1.17][$MC_attraction to "demi_men"]]
*[[dated. The thought of seeing her again is daunting. [demisexual]|Ch 1.17][$MC_attraction to "demi_women"]]
*[[dated. The thought of seeing them again is daunting. [demisexual]|Ch 1.17][$MC_attraction to "demi_any"]]
*[[dated. The thought of seeing him again is daunting. [ace]|Ch 1.17][$MC_attraction to "ace_men"]]
*[[dated. The thought of seeing her again is daunting. [ace]|Ch 1.17][$MC_attraction to "ace_women"]]
*[[dated. The thought of seeing them again is daunting. [ace]|Ch 1.17][$MC_attraction to "ace_any"]]Your father’s eyes light up with surprise and hope. “Whenever you’re ready. I think you’ll like her.”
You point at him with your phone. “I’ll take your word for it, but don’t think it’ll excuse her from answering my questions.”
“You’re planning to interrogate her?” Your father asks with a surprised laugh.
“Maybe it’ll be a bonding session,” you hum, “you know, to see if we can actually get along to the point of you marrying her.”
His eyes widen in surprise. “I– well, apple, it’s still too early to tell.”
“I know. But just for reassurance sake. You deserve to be happy, Dad.”
That seems to make him feel strangely emotional. “Thank you, apple. I appreciate it.”
After a few seconds of silence, your father speaks up again. “Despite whatever you may be thinking, I hope you give her a chance before giving your final judgment. I truly think you won’t be able to hate her at all.”
You glance at your father, the short stubble on his face which does a poor job of hiding the puckered scar on the right side of his cheek. The hunch of his back which he abruptly corrects every five minutes. The smell of Cuban cigars lingering on him, dampened only by the ever-present scent of lavender which followed every person who lived in the estate. He was toweringly tall, ruggedly handsome in a way you’d expect lumberjacks to be, not a businessman, and carried himself with a self-assurance reminiscent of a king. You weren’t very surprised that he’d have no shortage of admirers. But this woman was the only one he had given the chance to know him in the eight years following your mother’s demise.
Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for your father to finally heal from the scars that her death had left on him. And maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for you to be a little less selfish when it came to having his affections all to yourself.
“She has a kid your age,” your father continues, trying to fill the silence. “Goes to the same school as you too.”
You wince. It better not be someone you
*[[dated. The thought of seeing him again is daunting. [allo]|Ch 1.17][$MC_attraction to "allo_men"]]
*[[dated. The thought of seeing her again is daunting. [allo]|Ch 1.17][$MC_attraction to "allo_women"]]
*[[dated. The thought of seeing them again is daunting. [allo]|Ch 1.17][$MC_attraction to "allo_any"]]
*[[dated. The thought of seeing him again is daunting. [demisexual]|Ch 1.17][$MC_attraction to "demi_men"]]
*[[dated. The thought of seeing her again is daunting. [demisexual]|Ch 1.17][$MC_attraction to "demi_women"]]
*[[dated. The thought of seeing them again is daunting. [demisexual]|Ch 1.17][$MC_attraction to "demi_any"]]
*[[dated. The thought of seeing him again is daunting. [ace]|Ch 1.17][$MC_attraction to "ace_men"]]
*[[dated. The thought of seeing her again is daunting. [ace]|Ch 1.17][$MC_attraction to "ace_women"]]
*[[dated. The thought of seeing them again is daunting. [ace]|Ch 1.17][$MC_attraction to "ace_any"]]<<if $MC_attraction is "allo_men">><<set $A_gennum to 1; $virginity to "no"; $E_gennum to 1>>You immediately think back to your ex-boyfriend, Ryan, and how the asshole cheated on you with someone from your friend group. If it’s him, this situation just got a whole lot more complicated. Not to mention you both lost your virginities to each other and you do not want to open that can of worms with your dad.
Wishing for the ground to swallow you wouldn’t be enough, you’d need to become one with the earth if you saw him again. You’re already regretting every single choice you’ve made in life to get to this point. The only good news is that you’d be in university by the time the revelation is set and you’d hopefully move to another state to stay away from the familial disaster.
<<elseif $MC_attraction is "demi_men">><<set $A_gennum to 1; $E_gennum to 1>>Your thoughts go to your ex-boyfriend, Charles, and how you two had a pretty amicable breakup since he’d have to join the military back in Singapore and you weren’t up for a long distance relationship. <<cycle "$virginity" autoselect>>
<<option "You have no intention of crossing his path anytime soon, especially as a potential step-brother." "yes">>
<<option "You have no intention of crossing his path anytime soon, especially as a potential step-brother. Not to mention you both lost your virginities to each other and you do not want to open that can of worms with your dad." "no">><</cycle>>
Wishing for the ground to swallow you wouldn’t be enough, you’d need to become one with the earth if you saw him again. You’re already regretting every single choice you’ve made in life to get to this point. The only good news is that you’d be in university by the time the revelation is set and you’d hopefully move to another state to stay away from the familial disaster.
<<elseif $MC_attraction is "allo_women">><<set $A_gennum to 2; $virginity to "no"; $E_gennum to 2>>Your thoughts flash to your ex-girlfriend, Emily, and the awkwardness that ensued after she dumped you out of nowhere. If it’s her, you’ll have to navigate some serious emotional landmines. Not to mention you both lost your virginities to each other and you do not want to open that can of worms with your dad.
Wishing for the ground to swallow you wouldn’t be enough, you’d need to become one with the earth if you saw her again. You’re already regretting every single choice you’ve made in life to get to this point. The only good news is that you’d be in university by the time the revelation is set and you’d hopefully move to another state to stay away from the familial disaster.
<<elseif $MC_attraction is "demi_women">><<set $A_gennum to 2; $E_gennum to 2>>You think of Claire, and the relationship that ended pretty calmly but with enough awkward feelings to have you avoiding each other in the hallways. <<cycle "$virginity" autoselect>>
<<option "Seeing her in a family context would most definitely be uncomfortable galore." "yes">>
<<option "Seeing her in a family context would most definitely be uncomfortable galore. Not to mention you both lost your virginities to each other and you do not want to open that can of worms with your dad." "no">><</cycle>>
Wishing for the ground to swallow you wouldn’t be enough, you’d need to become one with the earth if you saw her again. You’re already regretting every single choice you’ve made in life to get to this point. The only good news is that you’d be in university by the time the revelation is set and you’d hopefully move to another state to stay away from the familial disaster.
<<elseif $MC_attraction is "allo_any">><<set $A_gennum to random(1,100); $virginity to "no"; $E_gennum to random(1,100)>>You think back to your ex-partner, Jordan, and the unresolved feelings that linger when they try to stay as friends with all the awkwardness they can muster. If it’s them, it’s going to be a rollercoaster of emotions. Not to mention you both lost your virginities to each other and you do not want to open that can of worms with your dad.
Wishing for the ground to swallow you wouldn’t be enough, you’d need to become one with the earth if you saw them again. You’re already regretting every single choice you’ve made in life to get to this point. The only good news is that you’d be in university by the time the revelation is set and you’d hopefully move to another state to stay away from the familial disaster.
<<elseif $MC_attraction is "demi_any">><<set $A_gennum to random(1,100); $E_gennum to random(1,100)>>Your mind drifts to your ex-partner, Wyatt, and the way their audacity to force you into being sexual with them on several occasions made the breakup a terrible one. <<cycle "$virginity" autoselect>>
<<option "The idea of them now being a step-sibling feels like uncharted territory that you do not want to explore." "yes">>
<<option "The idea of them now being a step-sibling feels like uncharted territory that you do not want to explore. Not to mention you both lost your virginities to each other and you do not want to open that can of worms with your dad." "no">><</cycle>>
Wishing for the ground to swallow you wouldn’t be enough, you’d need to become one with the earth if you saw them again. You’re already regretting every single choice you’ve made in life to get to this point. The only good news is that you’d be in university by the time the revelation is set and you’d hopefully move to another state to stay away from the familial disaster.
<<elseif $MC_attraction is "ace_men">><<set $A_gennum to 1; $virginity to "yes"; $E_gennum to 1>>Your thoughts go to your ex-boyfriend, Charles, and how you two had a pretty amicable breakup since he’d have to join the military back in Singapore and you weren’t up for a long distance relationship. You have no intention of crossing his path anytime soon, especially as a potential step-brother.
Wishing for the ground to swallow you wouldn’t be enough, you’d need to become one with the earth if you saw him again. You’re already regretting every single choice you’ve made in life to get to this point. The only good news is that you’d be in university by the time the revelation is set and you’d hopefully move to another state to stay away from the familial disaster.
<<elseif $MC_attraction is "ace_women">><<set $A_gennum to 2; $virginity to "yes"; $E_gennum to 1>>You think of Claire, and the relationship that ended pretty calmly but with enough awkward feelings to have you avoiding each other in the hallways. Seeing her in a family context would most definitely be uncomfortable galore.
Wishing for the ground to swallow you wouldn’t be enough, you’d need to become one with the earth if you saw her again. You’re already regretting every single choice you’ve made in life to get to this point. The only good news is that you’d be in university by the time the revelation is set and you’d hopefully move to another state to stay away from the familial disaster.
<<elseif $MC_attraction is "ace_any">><<set $A_gennum to random(1,100); $virginity to "yes"; $E_gennum to random(1,100)>>Your mind drifts to your ex-partner, Wyatt, and the way their audacity to force you into being sexual with them on several occasions made the breakup a terrible one. The idea of them now being a step-sibling feels like uncharted territory that you do not want to explore.
Wishing for the ground to swallow you wouldn’t be enough, you’d need to become one with the earth if you saw them again. You’re already regretting every single choice you’ve made in life to get to this point. The only good news is that you’d be in university by the time the revelation is set and you’d hopefully move to another state to stay away from the familial disaster.
<</if>>In any case, all of these scenarios were banking on if your father’s girlfriend was tethered to someone you want to avoid for at least a decade. All you could hope for right now was that the Fates weren’t pointing at you and laughing their asses off. Now that’s a concern for another time.
“I’m proud of you, you know?” Your dad says, making you look up at him again. You don’t miss the way he changed the subject, but you’re thankful regardless. “I don’t know if I’ve ever expressed it properly but I get sad sometimes to see you growing up so fast.”
“I kind of got the idea,” you say, appreciating the vulnerability he shows to you sometimes. “I don’t think any decent parent would be overjoyed to not have their kids around anymore.”
He nods and fiddles with his thumbs resting on the table. “Still. I suppose I feel like I missed out on a lot of your childhood when you were growing up. It’s hard to accept that you’d be going off to university in eight months and this house will be emptier than ever.”
“Aw Dad, come on. It’s not like I’m going away forever, I’ll still be back during the holidays.”
“And after that?” Your father asks, an eyebrow raised in question. “I don’t suppose you’d move back and live here?”
*[['You smile at him teasingly. “You know I’m not exactly keen on moving out anytime soon.”'|Ch 1.18.1]]
*[['You bite your lip in contemplation. “I… don’t really know. I guess it’s too early to make up my mind on that right now.”'|Ch 1.18.2]]
*[['You smile at him apologetically. “I’m sorry, Dad. You know I’d want some independence after I graduate.”'|Ch 1.18.3]]Amber eyes twinkle with amusement, and he chuckles softly. “Is that so? I thought kids your age would be eager to spread your wings."
"Well, yeah," you concede, “but I’d rather spread my wings around the estate, you know? Plus, you know how much I enjoy having my space here. This is where I grew up and I have no plans on moving away right now."
“That’s true," he agrees, his expression softening. “And having you around would certainly make things less lonely."
“And here I thought having Jared here was improving it," you say with a smirk, making your dad’s butler quietly chuckle from behind him. “Who else is keeping track of where you left your keys every morning?"
He laughs, shaking his head. “One thing I wouldn’t miss is the cheek you’ve started giving me these days. Just promise me you won't become too much of a homebody."
You give him a playful salute. “Scout’s honor."
“Whatever you decide on doing,” your father says, getting up to pat your head with all the gentleness of fatherly affection. “I’ll always support you in everything you do, my little apple.”
You laugh and bask in his touch. “Dad, I’m eighteen already. I’m not exactly ‘little’ anymore.”
<<if $MC_height is "very short" or $MC_height is "short">>“Could’ve fooled me if I didn’t raise you myself,” he teases.
You gasp at the jab at your height. “Dad, you’re the jerkiest jerk that ever jerked.”
“Someone has to tell you the truth,” he says, adopting a mock sympathetic expression.
“You know damn well it’s because you married Mom and nerfed your entire bloodline.”
<<elseif $MC_height is "average">>“Hmm, I must say that there’s still room to grow,” he teases.
You gasp at the jab at your height. “Dad, I’m literally average. You’re such a jerk.”
“Someone has to tell you the truth,” he says, adopting a mock sympathetic expression.
“You know damn well it’s because you married Mom and nerfed your entire bloodline.”
<<elseif $MC_height is "tall" or $MC_height is "very tall" or $MC_height is "towering">>“Maybe not in stature, but you’ll always be the kid who ran around in Scooby-Doo diapers,” he says with a grin.
You gasp at him bringing up the embarrassing memory. “So you’ve chosen the path of stooping low, huh.”
“Neither of us can stoop that low, our spine will rue the day it gets attached to us.”
You snort at that. “You’re not wrong. But I bet you’re just happy that luck didn’t nerf your entire bloodline’s height by marrying Mom.”
<</if>>“Hey now, your mother was a bombshell despite her height. I will take no slander!”
You make a face. “Gross, Dad! I don’t need to know all that.”
“Don’t poke the bears till their claws come out,” your father waggles his finger like he was lecturing you.
“I’m already scarred for life,” you say with a false wail. “Bullied by my own flesh and blood, I may never recover from this tragedy.”
“With your flair for dramatics, it’s no wonder you’re my $MC_son,” he chuckles in amusement.
That was the moment a familiar tune started playing on the turntable in the living room:
<<button "‘The Downtown Lights’ by The Blue Nile" "Ch 1.19">><<script>>
Dialog.setup("The Downtown Lights");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Downtown Lights").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</button>>
/*[[Ch 1.19]]*/Your father nods slowly, amber eyes growing thoughtful. “That’s fair. A lot can change in a few years, and college will give you the freedom to decide what’s best for you."
“I guess I’ll see how things go," you say, feeling a mix of uncertainty and hope. “There’s so much I want to explore and experience, but you know there’s always a chance I’ll come back to this manor regardless."
He smiles, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. “And it will always be here for you. No matter where life takes you, you’ll have a place to come back to."
“Thanks, Dad," you say, feeling a lump in your throat. “That… that means a lot."
“Just promise me one thing," he says, his voice gentle. "Don’t let fear hold you back. Embrace whatever comes your way with an open heart. I know you’ll find a way to make the best of any situation life throws at you."
"I will," you assure him, feeling a surge of determination. "I promise."
“Whatever you decide on doing,” your father says, getting up to pat your head with all the gentleness of fatherly affection. “I’ll always support you in everything you do, my little apple.”
You laugh and bask in his touch. “Dad, I’m eighteen already. I’m not exactly ‘little’ anymore.”
<<if $MC_height is "very short" or $MC_height is "short">>“Could’ve fooled me if I didn’t raise you myself,” he teases.
You gasp at the jab at your height. “Dad, you’re the jerkiest jerk that ever jerked.”
“Someone has to tell you the truth,” he says, adopting a mock sympathetic expression.
“You know damn well it’s because you married Mom and nerfed your entire bloodline.”
<<elseif $MC_height is "average">>“Hmm, I must say that there’s still room to grow,” he teases.
You gasp at the jab at your height. “Dad, I’m literally average. You’re such a jerk.”
“Someone has to tell you the truth,” he says, adopting a mock sympathetic expression.
“You know damn well it’s because you married Mom and nerfed your entire bloodline.”
<<elseif $MC_height is "tall" or $MC_height is "very tall" or $MC_height is "towering">>“Maybe not in stature, but you’ll always be the kid who ran around in Scooby-Doo diapers,” he says with a grin.
You gasp at him bringing up the embarrassing memory. “So you’ve chosen the path of stooping low, huh.”
“Neither of us can stoop that low, our spine will rue the day it gets attached to us.”
You snort at that. “You’re not wrong. But I bet you’re just happy that luck didn’t nerf your entire bloodline’s height by marrying Mom.”
<</if>>“Hey now, your mother was a bombshell despite her height. I will take no slander!”
You make a face. “Gross, Dad! I don’t need to know all that.”
“Don’t poke the bears till their claws come out,” your father waggles his finger like he was lecturing you.
“I’m already scarred for life,” you say with a false wail. “Bullied by my own flesh and blood, I may never recover from this tragedy.”
“With your flair for dramatics, it’s no wonder you’re my $MC_son,” he chuckles in amusement.
That was the moment a familiar tune started playing on the turntable in the living room:
<<button "‘The Downtown Lights’ by The Blue Nile" "Ch 1.19">><<script>>
Dialog.setup("The Downtown Lights");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Downtown Lights").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</button>>
/*[[Ch 1.19]]*/Your father's expression is a peculiar mix of pride and sadness. “I understand. You’ve never really been someone who was stuck in one place for too long."
“It’s not that I don’t love it here," you explain, trying to soften the weight of your words. “It’s just… I need to see what I’m capable of on my own."
“I get that," he nods, his voice steady. “And I want you to have that independence. It’s just that…” he glances around the room, a faraway look in his eyes, “this house is going to feel pretty lonely without you around."
You reach out and place your hand over his. “I’ll always need you, Dad. Just because I move away doesn’t mean you’ll stop being my father. This isn’t an invitation for you to disown me, by the way."
He laughs despite himself and nods, a small smile lingering at the corners of his mouth. “And I would’ve gotten away with it too, if it wasn’t for you meddling kids,” he quotes Scooby-Doo making you laugh as well. “In all seriousness, dear apple, I hope you know I’ll always be here for you, no matter what."
“I know," you say, squeezing his hand. “Thank you for understanding."
“Just promise me one thing," he says, his eyes searching yours. “Don’t forget to call your old man every once in a while, yeah? This applies to even when you’re in university."
You nod, smiling softly. “I promise, Dad. You won’t be able to get rid of me that easily."
“Whatever you decide on doing,” your father says, getting up to pat your head with all the gentleness of fatherly affection. “I’ll always support you in everything you do, my little apple.”
You laugh and bask in his touch. “Dad, I’m eighteen already. I’m not exactly ‘little’ anymore.”
<<if $MC_height is "very short" or $MC_height is "short">>“Could’ve fooled me if I didn’t raise you myself,” he teases.
You gasp at the jab at your height. “Dad, you’re the jerkiest jerk that ever jerked.”
“Someone has to tell you the truth,” he says, adopting a mock sympathetic expression.
“You know damn well it’s because you married Mom and nerfed your entire bloodline.”
<<elseif $MC_height is "average">>“Hmm, I must say that there’s still room to grow,” he teases.
You gasp at the jab at your height. “Dad, I’m literally average. You’re such a jerk.”
“Someone has to tell you the truth,” he says, adopting a mock sympathetic expression.
“You know damn well it’s because you married Mom and nerfed your entire bloodline.”
<<elseif $MC_height is "tall" or $MC_height is "very tall" or $MC_height is "towering">>“Maybe not in stature, but you’ll always be the kid who ran around in Scooby-Doo diapers,” he says with a grin.
You gasp at him bringing up the embarrassing memory. “So you’ve chosen the path of stooping low, huh.”
“Neither of us can stoop that low, our spine will rue the day it gets attached to us.”
You snort at that. “You’re not wrong. But I bet you’re just happy that luck didn’t nerf your entire bloodline’s height by marrying Mom.”
<</if>>“Hey now, your mother was a bombshell despite her height. I will take no slander!”
You make a face. “Gross, Dad! I don’t need to know all that.”
“Don’t poke the bears till their claws come out,” your father waggles his finger like he was lecturing you.
“I’m already scarred for life,” you say with a false wail. “Bullied by my own flesh and blood, I may never recover from this tragedy.”
“With your flair for dramatics, it’s no wonder you’re my $MC_son,” he chuckles in amusement.
That was the moment a familiar tune started playing on the turntable in the living room:
<<button "‘The Downtown Lights’ by The Blue Nile" "Ch 1.19">><<script>>
Dialog.setup("The Downtown Lights");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Downtown Lights").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</button>>
/*[[Ch 1.19]]*/<<if $A_gennum%2 is 0>><<set $A_name to "Arlene"; $A_middle to "Emmanuelle"; $A_nickname to "Arlo"; $A_gender to "female"; $A_person to "woman"; $A_Mr to "Ms"; $A_HeShe to "She"; $A_heshe to "she"; $A_HimHer to "Her"; $A_himher to "her"; $A_HisHer to "Her"; $A_hisher to "her"; $A_HisHers to "Hers"; $A_hishers to "hers"; $A_Himself to "Herself"; $A_himself to "herself">><<else>><<set $A_name to "Arturo"; $A_middle to "Emmanuel"; $A_nickname to "Art"; $A_gender to "male"; $A_person to "man"; $A_Mr to "Mr"; $A_HeShe to "He"; $A_heshe to "he"; $A_HimHer to "Him"; $A_himher to "him"; $A_HisHer to "His"; $A_hisher to "his"; $A_HisHers to "His"; $A_hishers to "his"; $A_Himself to "Himself"; $A_himself to "himself">><</if>><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><<if $E_gennum%2 is 0>><<set $E_name to "Eva"; $E_middle to "Emmanuelle"; $E_nickname to "Arlo"; $E_gender to "female"; $E_person to "woman"; $E_Mr to "Ms"; $E_HeShe to "She"; $E_heshe to "she"; $E_HimHer to "Her"; $E_himher to "her"; $E_HisHer to "Her"; $E_hisher to "her"; $E_HisHers to "Hers"; $E_hishers to "hers"; $E_Himself to "Herself"; $E_himself to "herself">><<else>><<set $E_name to "Evan"; $E_middle to "Emmanuel"; $E_nickname to "Art"; $E_gender to "male"; $E_person to "man"; $E_Mr to "Mr"; $E_HeShe to "He"; $E_heshe to "he"; $E_HimHer to "Him"; $E_himher to "him"; $E_HisHer to "His"; $E_hisher to "his"; $E_HisHers to "His"; $E_hishers to "his"; $E_Himself to "Himself"; $E_himself to "himself">><</if>><<nobr>>
<</nobr>>You observe your father’s eyes drooping shut as he leans back on the chair. It’s moments like these where you think you can read him clearly. The wrinkles on his weathered face are smoothed, his small smile seems like the most genuine thing in the world, and all of a sudden he looks like he’s twenty-one. Back before he was a husband and a father. A carefree college student whose only worry was what kind of date he must plan for his girlfriend.
He often joked that his life didn’t seem worth that much before your mother entered it. Their relationship was complicated, no doubt about that. You can’t say that you live on the opposite side of the country from your spouse and not raise a few eyebrows in question. But even as a kid, you could see how much they loved each other despite the distance they had set. How your father would hold her hand and ask about how she was doing or if she needed anything. How your mother would straighten up his tie before he left for work every morning on the rare occasions of her staying over. How they’d share secret kisses and dance to this specific song when they thought you’d fallen asleep upstairs.
You remember sneaking down the stairs and watching with unbridled happiness as your father spun the love of his life around and laughed together with her. Heads pressed against each other as they traveled through their own world where no one existed but them. At that moment, they weren’t just some adults in their late twenties or early thirties. They were nineteen again, dancing under the Northern Red Oak in Yale where they first met.
<<button "Next" "Ch 1.20">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 1.20]]*/<<notify>>Saved!<</notify>>Your father hums along to the song, the melody pulling him into memories just as vividly as it does you. His eyes open slightly, catching you watching him with a soft, wistful expression. He gives you a tired, affectionate smile.
“You know,” he says, his voice low and full of warmth, “your mother and I used to dance to this song every chance we got. It didn’t matter if it was in a fancy ballroom or our living room. It always felt like the first time.”
You nod, your throat tightening with emotion. “I remember, Dad. I used to tiptoe downstairs just to watch you two dance. It was like watching a movie.”
“I should’ve known, you cheeky little apple. How else were you supposed to know this old song to the point I’d hear you playing it in your room?” He chuckles softly, a sound full of nostalgia and a hint of sadness. “She had that way about her, didn’t she? Made everything feel magical.”
You laugh softly and lean back in your chair, closing your eyes for a moment as you let the music wash over you. “I think she passed some of that magic on to you. She lives on in you every day.”
Your father’s eyes mist over slightly, but he blinks the tears away, his smile never wavering. “You’re probably tired of hearing it from everyone, but you look just like her. Despite everything that happened, she has left me a very precious piece of her.”
You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words. It’s a bittersweet comfort, knowing that a part of her is always with you, even if she’s gone. The song draws to a close, and your father sighs, a content sound despite the lingering sorrow.
“I miss her,” he admits quietly. “Every single day.”
“I miss her too,” you reply, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “But we’ll get through it. We’ve managed for all these years, haven’t we?”
He squeezes your hand back, his grip firm and reassuring. “We have.”
The moment stretches between you, filled with a strange mix of camaraderie and the unspoken love for a person who you’ve both loved and lost. This is what it feels like, you suppose, to be loved so deeply by someone that when they leave, they are buried with a part of you that will always belong to them. It is a privilege as well as a tragedy.
As the night wears on, you sit together in companionable silence, the echoes of the past mingling with the present. The song fades into the background, leaving behind a sense of peace and connection. And in that moment, you know that no matter where life takes you, the bond you share with your parents could never be severed by anything in life or death.
One day, you hope to meet someone you find worthy enough to dance with you to ‘The Downtown Lights.’
<<button "Next Chapter" "Ch 2.1">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 2.1]]*/<<set $chapter to "Chapter One">><div id="choices"><<audio "title" fadeoverto 15 0>><<fadein 5s >><h1>ACT 1</h1>
!!TEARS, RIVERS, AND OTHER WATER BODIES
!!!<div id="centered">“Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful, to souls like the Greeks or our own, than to lose control completely?”</div>
!!!— Donna Tart, The Secret History
<div id="centered"><<link "BEGIN">><<replace #choices>><<fadeout 5s>><h1>ACT 1</h1>
!!TEARS, RIVERS, AND OTHER WATER BODIES
!!!<div id="centered">“Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful, to souls like the Greeks or our own, than to lose control completely?”</div>
!!!— Donna Tart, The Secret History
<div id="centered"><<link "BEGIN">><</link>></div>
<</fadeout>><<fadein 5s 5s>><h1>ཫ CHAPTER ONE ཀ</h1>
!!𓆙 novus ordo 𓆙
!!!December, 2023
The manor is still. Not the comfortable stillness that comes with dusk settling over the rooftops or the hushed quiet of an early morning snowfall. No, this is the stillness of anticipation, thick and oppressive, like the charged air before an incoming storm.
The maids and manservants in the estate are working as quietly but diligently as possible, occasionally looking up the polished dark oak staircase towards the direction of the room they are made wary of for a few days. It is the room of the estate owner’s only <<listbox "$MC_son" autoselect>>
<<option "son">>
<<option "daughter">>
<<option "child">>
<</listbox>>. While they know that they are free to go upstairs and go about their duty, they are also aware that it provides more possibilities for the apple of their employer’s eye to get cross with them. And when that happens, not even a perfect track record could save them from being unemployed for life.
It was what they had signed up for when they decided to work for the illustrious family whose surname alone could hand them almost anything they desired:
<<textbox "$MC_surname" "">> [[Next|Ch 1.2]]
<<message 'Surname Suggestions'>>\
*<<hovertip '<strong>al-Mahdi</strong> [<em>Arabic</em>] <em>“The guided one." Often used in Islamic tradition to refer to a messianic figure who will appear at the end of times.</em>'>>[[al-Mahdi|Ch 1.2][$MC_surname to "al-Mahdi"]]<</hovertip>>
*<<hovertip '<strong>Castillon</strong> [<em>French</em>] <em>“Castle." Derived from the French word “château" or “castel," meaning castle or fort.</em>'>>[[Castillon|Ch 1.2][$MC_surname to "Castillon"]]<</hovertip>>
*<<hovertip '<strong>de Valk</strong> [<em>Dutch</em>] <em>“Of the falcon." Derived from the Dutch word “valk," meaning falcon.</em>'>>[[de Valk|Ch 1.2][$MC_surname to "de Valk"]]<</hovertip>>
*<<hovertip '<strong>Devereux</strong> [<em>French</em>] <em>“From Evreux." A locational surname referring to Evreux, a town in Normandy, France.</em>'>>[[Devereux|Ch 1.2][$MC_surname to "Devereux"]]<</hovertip>>
*<<hovertip '<strong>Everdale</strong> [<em>English</em>] <em>“Everlasting valley." A combination of “ever," meaning always, and “dale," meaning valley.</em>'>>[[Everdale|Ch 1.2][$MC_surname to "Everdale"]]<</hovertip>>
*<<hovertip '<strong>Freitas</strong> [<em>Portuguese</em>] <em>“Broken stones" or “rocky terrain." Derived from the word “freitas," meaning stones or gravel.</em>'>>[[Freitas|Ch 1.2][$MC_surname to "Freitas"]]<</hovertip>>
*<<hovertip '<strong>Guerrero</strong> [<em>Spanish</em>] <em>“Warrior." Derived from the Spanish word “guerra," meaning war.</em>'>>[[Guerrero|Ch 1.2][$MC_surname to "Guerrero"]]<</hovertip>>
*<<hovertip '<strong>Herczeg</strong> [<em>Hungarian</em>] <em>“Prince." Derived from the Hungarian word for prince.</em>'>>[[Herczeg|Ch 1.2][$MC_surname to "Herczeg"]]<</hovertip>>
*<<hovertip '<strong>Jeon (전)</strong> [<em>Korean</em>] <em>The hanja used is 錢 (돈 전, don jeon) meaning “money".</em>'>>[[Jeon (전)|Ch 1.2][$MC_surname to "Jeon"]]<</hovertip>>
*<<hovertip '<strong>Morozova</strong> [<em>Russian</em>] <em>“Frost." Derived from the word “moroz," meaning frost.</em>'>>[[Morozova|Ch 1.2][$MC_surname to "Morozova"]]<</hovertip>>
*<<hovertip '<strong>Nikolaidis</strong> [<em>Greek</em>] <em>“Son of Nikolaos." Derived from “Nikolaos," meaning victory of the people.</em>'>>[[Nikolaidis|Ch 1.2][$MC_surname to "Nikolaidis"]]<</hovertip>>
*<<hovertip '<strong>Rietveld</strong> [<em>Dutch</em>] <em>“Reed field." Originates from "riet," meaning reed, and "veld," meaning field.</em>'>>[[Rietveld|Ch 1.2][$MC_surname to "Rietveld"]]<</hovertip>>
*<<hovertip '<strong>Salvatore</strong> [<em>Italian</em>] <em>“Savior." Derived from the Latin word “salvator."</em>'>>[[Salvatore|Ch 1.2][$MC_surname to "Salvatore"]]<</hovertip>>
*<<hovertip '<strong>Tagore</strong> [<em>Indian</em>] <em>“Descendant of the Taga." Originates from the Bengali title “Thakur," meaning lord or deity.</em>'>>[[Tagore|Ch 1.2][$MC_surname to "Tagore"]]<</hovertip>>
*<<hovertip '<strong>Visconti</strong> [<em>Italian</em>] <em>“Viscount." Derived from the Italian word for a noble rank below a count.</em>'>>[[Visconti|Ch 1.2][$MC_surname to "Visconti"]]<</hovertip>>
*<<hovertip '<strong>Volkov</strong> [<em>Russian</em>] <em>“Wolf." Derived from the Russian word “volk."</em>'>>[[Volkov|Ch 1.2][$MC_surname to "Volkov"]]<</hovertip>>
*<<hovertip '<strong>von Bülow</strong> [<em>German</em>] <em>“From Bülow." A noble family name indicating origin from the village of Bülow in Germany.</em>'>>[[von Bülow|Ch 1.2][$MC_surname to "von Bülow"]]<</hovertip>>
*<<hovertip '<strong>Valtersson</strong> [<em>Swedish</em>] <em>“Son of Walter." A patronymic surname meaning descendant of Walter.</em>'>>[[Valtersson|Ch 1.2][$MC_surname to "Valtersson"]]<</hovertip>>
*<<hovertip '<strong>Watanabe</strong> [<em>Japanese</em>] <em>“Crossing the river." Derived from the Japanese words “wata," meaning crossing, and “nabe," meaning river.</em>'>>[[Watanabe|Ch 1.2][$MC_surname to "Watanabe"]]<</hovertip>>
*<<hovertip '<strong>Zeynalov</strong> [<em>Azerbaijani</em>] <em>“Son of Zeynal." A patronymic surname derived from the given name Zeynal.</em>'>>[[Zeynalov|Ch 1.2][$MC_surname to "Zeynalov"]]<</hovertip>><</message>><</fadein>>
<</replace>><</link>></div>
<</fadein>>
</div>!!!Play The Downtown Lights by The Blue Nile on <<link "Spotify">><<script>>window.open('https://open.spotify.com/track/38TMvbDxQCQJm9nzHqmpiK?si=d491dac2db91418e')<</script>><</link>> or <<link "YouTube">><<script>>window.open('https://youtu.be/tNgSwtRqLmg?si=_VF5S7EUhjdNNnWo')<</script>><</link>>!<div id="centered" style="padding:0"><img src="images/hos_logo.png" width="15%"></div><h1>𓂀 HOUSE OF STYX 𓂀</h1><h3>Coinquinátae sunt animae, quae sine temperantiá sunt</h3>
The House of Styx stands as one of Yale's oldest and most clandestine societies, shrouded in mystery and dedicated to supervising and controlling the enigmatic pursuits of the university. It acts as a protector and enforcer of the mystical regulations that preside over the other covert societies at Yale.
<<message "<h2>STRUCTURE AND FUNCTIONING</h2>">>
<h3>Administration</h3>
<ol>
<li><<message "__<strong>Circle of Eden</strong>__">>><ul>
<li><em><strong>Role</strong></em>: The Circle of Eden acts as the governing body responsible for overseeing the activities of Yale's secret societies. Their main role is to govern and finance the activities of the Societies democratically. The Circle reviews reports from the Consul on supernatural incidents, inter-society disputes, and strategic initiatives aimed at responsibly advancing mystical knowledge. They provide advice to the Consul on matters of arcane governance, strategic planning, and resolving complex issues within the occult community. Their input shapes policies that influence the recruitment, training, and ethical conduct of society members, thus ensuring Yale's leadership in responsible arcane scholarship.</li>
<li><em><strong>Selection</strong></em>: Board members of the Circle of Eden are selected from among former Yale secret society members who have excelled in their respective fields and demonstrated unwavering commitment to Yale's arcane traditions. They bring a wealth of experience, knowledge, and influence to the board, shaping the future direction of mystical education and governance at Yale.</li></ul><</message>>
</li>
<li><<message "__<strong>Consul</strong>__">>><ul>
<li><em><strong>Role</strong></em>: The Consul is the ultimate head of the Circle of Eden. They provide strategic guidance and oversight, ensuring that all mystical activities are conducted according to Yale’s ethical standards and protocols. They serve as the top authority on matters concerning arcane governance within the university and have the power to veto any of the Circle’s decisions. Their responsibilities encompass maintaining the secrecy and integrity of occult practices, mediating disputes between societies, and ensuring the Circle makes decisions in Yale’s best interests.</li>
<li><em><strong>Selection</strong></em>: The Consul is appointed democratically from among the board members of the Circle of Eden and representatives from each secret society. Candidates for Consulship are chosen based on their extensive knowledge of arcane lore, experience, leadership qualities, and commitment to upholding the traditions and values of Yale's secret societies.</li></ul><</message>>
</li>
<li><<message "__<strong>Archon</strong>__">>><ul>
<li><em><strong>Role</strong></em>: The Archon is the leader of the House of Styx, responsible for overseeing all activities and decisions of the society. They embody wisdom, authority, and a deep understanding of both arcane lore and modern governance. They are a hidden authority figure whose identity is only exposed to the Praetors, the Consul, and the Circle of Eden.</li>
<li><em><strong>Selection</strong></em>: The Archon is chosen from among the senior members based on their experience, leadership qualities, and mastery of arcane arts. The selection process is very secretive and involves a consensus among the Circle of Eden. Typically the roles are given to PhD students who are associated with the Consul for a long time or have been a part of any of the secret societies since their undergraduate years.</li></ul><</message>>
</li>
<li><<message "__<strong>Praetors</strong>__">>><ul>
<li><em><strong>Role</strong></em>: Two Praetors serve as the Archon's chief lieutenants, responsible for security, enforcement of society rules, and maintaining order within the ranks. They oversee defensive operations and ensure the secrecy of the society's activities.</li>
<li><em><strong>Appointment</strong></em>: Praetors are appointed by the Archon based on their proven loyalty, tactical acumen, and proficiency in magical defense and warding.
The Praetor offices within the House of Styx at Yale University are held by two carefully selected undergraduate students who serve as vigilant representatives and overseers of occult activities within the prestigious Ancient Eight societies. Supported by the Circle of Eden, Praetors enforce strict protocols essential for maintaining mystical balance. They are responsible for reporting and keeping in touch with the Archon and the Dean of the Societies, known as the Consul, to ensure compliance with societal guidelines. Praetors possess extensive knowledge of each society's magical practices and occult lore, which is crucial for containing potential disturbances and safeguarding the university community. In return for their service, Styx House provides free tuition to Yale, reflecting its commitment to nurturing future leaders in arcane stewardship.
Recruited once every three years, Praetors are selected by the Archon based on their mastery of arcane arts and strategic acumen. The Archon evaluates first-year candidates and forwards top prospects to the Circle of Eden and Ancient Eight societies for final vetting. Criteria for selection include rigorous background checks, health assessments, and evaluations for signs of mental stability and financial security, ensuring that only the most qualified candidates are considered.
A central aspect of their duties involves receiving Midas's touch during critical rites to counter demonic interference. This mystical ability allows them to maintain open channels to the Crux, which is crucial for gathering magical energies. However, the process is excruciatingly painful and poses significant health risks, limiting the term of Praetors to four years. Older Styx alumni refrain from using Midas's touch due to potential risks of skin cancer, rapid aging, or even death, underscoring the sacrificial nature of the Praetor's role in preserving Yale's mystical heritage and protecting against supernatural threats.</li></ul><</message>>
</li>
<li><<message "__<strong>Oculus</strong>__">>><ul>
<li><em><strong>Role</strong></em>: The Oculus is the keeper of knowledge within the society, overseeing the archives and preserving ancient texts, spells, and records of supernatural occurrences. They serve as advisors on matters of arcane lore and historical context.</li>
<li><em><strong>Responsibilities</strong></em>: The Oculus conducts research, educates new members on the society's history and practices, and guides the House of Styx in the acquisition of new magical knowledge.</li></ul><</message>>
</li>
<li><<message "__<strong>Centurions</strong>__">>><ul>
<li><em><strong>Role</strong></em>: Undergraduate senior members who have distinguished themselves through their loyalty, dedication, and mastery of arcane arts. Centurions lead Cohorts (groups of members) and mentor younger initiates, ensuring continuity and growth within the society.</li>
<li><em><strong>Selection</strong></em>: Centurions are selected based on their contributions to the Society and their ability to lead effectively in both mundane and magical matters.</li></ul><</message>>
</li>
<li><<message "__<strong>Cohorts</strong>__">>><ul>
<li><em><strong>Function</strong></em>: Cohorts are organized groups within the House of Styx, each led by a Centurion. They collaborate on specific tasks, missions, and research projects related to magical defense, knowledge acquisition, and the regulation of supernatural activities at Yale.</li>
<li><em><strong>Collaboration</strong></em>: Cohorts foster camaraderie among members and encourage teamwork in addressing both internal and external challenges faced by the Society.</li></ul><</message>>
</li>
</ol>
<h3>Membership and Initiation</h3>
<<message "__<strong>Acolytes</strong>__">>><ul>
<li><em><strong>Selection</strong></em>: Acolytes are chosen from among Yale's student body based on academic excellence, potential for magical aptitude, and adherence to the Society's values of integrity and secrecy.</li>
<li><em><strong>Training</strong></em>: Acolytes undergo rigorous training in arcane lore, magical practices, and the history of the House of Styx. They are mentored by senior members and prepared for initiation rituals that test their character, resolve, and magical prowess.</li></ul>
<</message>>
<</message>>
<<message "<h2>HISTORY</h2>">>
<<message "<h3>Founding and Early Years (1724 - 1760s)</h3>">>
The House of Styx was established in 1724 by a group of Yale alumni and faculty concerned about the unregulated use of magic and the supernatural within the university. The founders were driven by a desire to create a structured and responsible approach to using arcane knowledge. The primary founder, Ezekiel Blackthorne–a renowned alchemist and scholar of Skull and Bones–was deeply influenced by the principles of classical mythology and early scientific inquiry.
__<strong>Key Founders</strong>__
><ul><li><em><strong>Ezekiel Blackthorne</strong></em>: An alchemist and scholar of Skull and Bones who became the first Archon. His vision of a regulated approach to magic laid the foundation for the Society's principles.</li>
<li><em><strong>Parvati Rathore</strong></em>: A gifted seer and practitioner of divination of Scroll and Key, who became the first Oculus. She established the society's extensive archives.</li>
<li><em><strong>Jonathan Hakizimana</strong></em>: A former soldier and skilled warder of Wolf’s Head who served as the first Praetor. He was instrumental in setting up the society's security measures.</li></ul>
__<strong>Early Objectives</strong>__
><ul>
<li><em><strong>Regulation of Magic</strong></em>: The founders aimed to create guidelines for the responsible use of magic among students and faculty.</li>
<li><em><strong>Knowledge Preservation</strong></em>: They began compiling and preserving ancient texts and knowledge related to the arcane arts.</li>
<li><em><strong>Protection</strong></em>: Establishing wards and protective measures around Yale's campus to safeguard against supernatural threats.</li></ul>
<</message>>
<<message "<h3>The Great Ward of 1872</h3>">>
The House of Styx achieved a major milestone in 1872 with the establishment of the Great Ward. This potent protective enchantment was deployed across the grounds of Yale, serving as an enduring safeguard against malign supernatural entities. The ward represented the culmination of extensive research and cooperative efforts by the House's members.
__<strong>Key Figures</strong>__
><ul>
<li><em><strong>Archon Marcus Hale</strong></em>: Led the project and coordinated the efforts of the society.</li>
<li><em><strong>Oculus Samuel Kent</strong></em>: Developed the intricate spellwork and rituals required for the ward.</li>
<li><em><strong>Praetor Helena Fairchild</strong></em>: Organized the defensive measures and contingencies during the casting.</li></ul>
__<strong>Impact</strong>__
><ul>
<li><em><strong>Enhanced Security</strong></em>: The ward significantly reduced supernatural threats on campus.</li>
<li><em><strong>Legacy</strong></em>: The Great Ward became a cornerstone of the House's protective measures and is maintained and strengthened by each successive generation.</li></ul><</message>>
<<message "<h3>The Rift of 1924</h3>">>
In 1924, a major rupture in the mystical integrity of the university occurred, causing a division within the Society. This event, called the Rift, was the consequence of a flawed experiment with a potent artifact. The ensuing turmoil revealed profound disagreements within the House of Styx regarding the course and ideals of their mission.
__<strong>Key Events</strong>__
><ul>
<li><em><strong>Artifact Experiment</strong></em>: A group of members, led by an ambitious Centurion, attempted to harness the power of a recently discovered artifact. The experiment went awry, causing a rift in the magical fabric of the university.</li>
<li><em><strong>Internal Conflict</strong></em>: The incident led to a fierce debate about the Society's approach to risk and experimentation. Some members advocated for more caution and regulation, while others pushed for greater freedom in their magical pursuits.</li></ul>
__<strong>Outcome</strong>__
><ul>
<li><em><strong>Reformation</strong></em>: The schism resulted in a reformation of the society's internal rules and practices. The position of the Archon was strengthened, the role of Praetor was given to two candidates, and new protocols for handling dangerous artifacts and experiments were established.</li>
<li><em><strong>Reconciliation</strong></em>: Over time, the divisions were healed, and the society emerged more unified and resilient.</li></ul>
<</message>>
<<message "<h3>Modern Era (1960s - Present)</h3>">>
The House of Styx has continuously adapted to the changing times. In the 1960s, the organization embraced inclusivity by expanding its membership to include a more diverse student body. This period also saw significant advancements in their mystical practices and a renewed focus on interdisciplinary research.
__<strong>Key Developments</strong>__
><ul>
<li><em><strong>Inclusivity</strong></em>: The society opened its doors to a broader range of students, valuing diverse perspectives and talents.</li>
<li><em><strong>Interdisciplinary Research</strong></em>: Members began collaborating with other academic departments, integrating modern science and technology with traditional magical practices.</li>
<li><em><strong>Public Awareness</strong></em>: While still secretive, the House of Styx has taken steps to subtly influence public perception of the supernatural, promoting a more informed and balanced view.</li></ul>
__<strong>Current Focus</strong>__
><ul>
<li><em><strong>Regulation and Oversight</strong></em>: Continuing to oversee and regulate the activities of other secret societies at Yale.</li>
<li><em><strong>Protection and Defense</strong></em>: Maintaining and strengthening the Great Ward and other protective measures.</li>
<li><em><strong>Knowledge and Innovation</strong></em>: Advancing the frontiers of magical knowledge and integrating discoveries into their practices.</li></ul>
__<strong>Notable Events</strong>__
><ul>
<li><em><strong>1982 - The Ghost Plague</strong></em>: A series of ghost sightings and hauntings plagued Yale's campus, leading the House of Styx to undertake a major cleansing and exorcism operation.</li>
<li><em><strong>2001 - The Arcane Codex Discovery</strong></em>: Members uncovered a long-lost codex containing powerful spells and rituals, significantly boosting the society's knowledge base.</li>
<li><em><strong>2016 - The Digital Ward</strong></em>: In response to increasing cyber threats, the House developed a new form of digital warding to protect against electronic incursions and hacking attempts.</li></ul>
<</message>>
<</message>>
<span style="display: block; text-align: center;">
<<link "« Return to game" $return>><</link>>
</span><<set $chapter to "Chapter Two">><h1>ཫ CHAPTER TWO ཀ</h1>
!!𓆙 paucae guttae initiales calamī atramentarii 𓆙
!!!August, 2024
Scattered laughter sounds from the handful of people lingering at the entrance of the university. You try your best not to stare at the students as your chauffeur rolls your Rolls Royce in the visitors’ parking lot. The contrast between your arrival and their casual presence feels stark, almost ostentatious, and you can't help but feel a twinge of self-consciousness.
Your dad looks around the campus with a nostalgic smile as Marvin, your chauffeur, opens his door first before moving to open yours.
“Thank you, Marvin,” your father says, stepping out and smoothing down his navy coat. The crisp air carries a hint of autumn, and the towering buildings of Yale University loom ahead.
Stepping out of the car, you feel the crunch of leaves under your boots. The campus is alive with the hum of students who arrived early, some laughing, others deep in conversation.
Your father, ever the picture of calm and collected, claps you gently on the shoulder. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but you’re ready for this. This is what you’ve been working so hard for.”
*[[You smirk with confidence. “Yeah, of course I can do it. Who else could?”|Ch 2.2.1][$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 5, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 5, 0, 100)]]
*[[You smile at him nervously. “I know. It’s just something I’ll have to get used to.”|Ch 2.2.2][$Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 5, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 5, 0, 100)]]
*[[You simply nod and try not to let your nervousness show.|Ch 2.2.3][$Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 5, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 5, 0, 100)]]
*[[You roll your eyes slightly. “Yeah, sure, I can do it. No big deal, right?”|Ch 2.2.4][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 5, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 5, 0, 100)]]
<<notify>>+ Arrogant<</notify>>Your father’s smile broadens, and he pats you on the back, his gesture both firm and comforting. “That’s the spirit. Everyone here was the new kid once. Hell, I remember being very uncertain when I first arrived here.”
“Yeah?” you say, a tad bit surprised. “I’d have expected you to be pretty confident about coming here.”
“Adapting to a new environment takes time, dear apple,” he says, rubbing your back. “Even the most confident folks can falter if you drop them in a new place.”
“I guess you’re right,” you reply with a nod. “But for real though, Dad, I got this.”
<<button "Next" "Ch 2.3">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 2.3]]*/<<notify>>+ Friendly<</notify>>Your father gives you a sympathetic smile and a gentle pat on the back. “That’s completely understandable. Big changes like this take time. You’ll settle in, just give yourself a little grace.”
You try to return the smile, though your nerves seem to dampen it a little. “Thanks, Dad. I guess I’ll just have to take it one step at a time for now.”
“That’s a good approach to take,” your father nods approvingly before grinning. “Just remember that Papa has raised no quitter.”
“Oh please,” you snort, “as if you wouldn’t be happy enough to whisk me back to the estate if I asked you to.”
He raises his hand with a faux innocent expression. “I plead the fifth.”
<<button "Next" "Ch 2.3">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 2.3]]*/<<notify>>+ Aloof<</notify>>Your father’s eyes soften, and he places a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “I get it, little apple. It’s a big transition. Just know that it’s okay to feel this way.”
You nod, attempting a brave smile despite the anxious butterflies in your stomach. “Thanks, Dad. I’ll try to manage as best as I can.”
“I’m sure you will,” he replies. “But you also don’t need to keep it bottled up. Talk to me if you get too overwhelmed, okay?”
“You know I will,” you assure him, scrunching your nose, “you’re better than all the therapists I’ve ever had.”
“Even Dr. Malhotra?” your father teases.
You roll your eyes at the obvious fishing for compliments. “Yes, even her.”
<<button "Next" "Ch 2.3">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 2.3]]*/<<notify>>+ Sarcastic<</notify>>Your father chuckles, giving you a light shove. “Easy there, smartass. Confidence is good, but don’t be afraid to ask for help.”
You smirk, raising an eyebrow. “Oh yeah, I’ll definitely keep that in mind. That is super helpful.”
He grins, shaking his head. “Just don’t forget, alright? Your old man knows a thing or two.”
You snort. “Right, your precious words of wisdom. Got it, Dad.”
<<button "Next" "Ch 2.3">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 2.3]]*/Adjusting your bag, you both walk around the Old Campus towards Rathore College. You were informed beforehand that your academic advisor would be waiting there to discuss your acceptance and the upcoming semester with you. You just hope that you can get along well with her, otherwise, the next four years are not going to be easy for you.
You make sure to check your bag so you have every important document within your reach which you might need. Your middle name sits comfortably between your first and last name in all of them.
What is your middle name?
<<textbox "$MC_middlename" "">>
<<message 'List of traditionally masculine names'>>\
<<hovertip '<strong>Altair</strong> [<em>Arabic</em>] <em>“The flying one". It’s the name of the brightest star in the constellation Aquila.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Altair" autocheck>> Altair</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Acrux</strong> [<em>Latin</em>] <em>Short for “Alpha Crucis," the brightest star in the constellation Crux.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Acrux" autocheck>> Acrux</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Arcturus</strong> [<em>Greek</em>] <em>Derived from “Arktouros," meaning “guardian of the bear." It’s a prominent star in the constellation Boötes.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Arcturus" autocheck>> Arcturus</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Arjuna</strong> [<em>Sanskrit</em>] <em>“Bright," “shining," or “radiant." In Hindu mythology, Arjuna is a central hero of the Mahabharata.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Arjuna" autocheck>> Arjuna</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Augustus</strong> [<em>Latin</em>] <em>“Great" or “venerable." It was a title used by Roman emperors, notably Augustus Caesar.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Augustus" autocheck>> Augustus</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Cassius</strong> [<em>Latin</em>] <em>“Vain" or “empty." Cassius was a Roman family name, including notable figures such as Cassius Longinus.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Cassius" autocheck>> Cassius</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Castor</strong> [<em>Greek</em>] <em>Named after one of the twin stars in the constellation Gemini. Castor was one of the Dioscuri in Greek mythology.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Castor" autocheck>> Castor</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Cepheus</strong> [<em>Greek</em>] <em>Named after a king of Ethiopia in Greek mythology, represented as a constellation</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Cepheus" autocheck>> Cepheus</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Hesperos</strong> [<em>Greek</em>] <em>“Evening star" or “west." It refers to the evening star and is associated with the planet Venus.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Hesperos" autocheck>> Hesperos</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Karan</strong> [<em>Sanskrit</em>] <em>“Ear" or “earring." Karna is a significant hero in the Mahabharata, known for his valor and generosity.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Karan" autocheck>> Karan</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Magnus</strong> [<em>Latin</em>] <em>“Great" or “mighty." It was used as a title for various historical figures, including several kings and leaders.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Magnus" autocheck>> Magnus</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Orion</strong> [<em>Greek</em>] <em>Named after the Greek mythological hunter Orion, who is represented by a prominent constellation.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Orion" autocheck>> Orion</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Perseus</strong> [<em>Greek</em>] <em>Named after the Greek hero Perseus, son of Zeus, who is known for slaying Medusa. He is represented by a constellation.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Perseus" autocheck>> Perseus</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Quintus</strong> [<em>Latin</em>] <em>““Fifth." It was a common Roman name and is associated with historical figures like Quintus Fabius Maximus.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "QuintusLatin" autocheck>> Quintus</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Zagreus</strong> [<em>Greek</em>] <em>The name is associated with a figure in Greek mythology who is often considered a form of the god Dionysus or a deity linked to rebirth and vegetation. Zagreus is known from the Orphic tradition and later interpretations of Greek myth.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Zagreus" autocheck>> Zagreus</label><</hovertip>><</message>>
<<message 'List of traditionally feminine names'>>\
<<hovertip '<strong>Andromeda</strong> [<em>Greek</em>] <em>Named after the princess Andromeda in Greek mythology, who was rescued by Perseus. It’s also the name of a constellation.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Andromeda" autocheck>> Andromeda</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Antonia</strong> [<em>Latin</em>] <em>“Priceless" or “inestimable," derived from the Roman family name Antonius.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Antonia" autocheck>> Antonia</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Aurora</strong> [<em>Latin</em>] <em>“Dawn." Aurora is also the Roman goddess of the dawn and the name for the northern and southern lights (aurora borealis and aurora australis).</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Aurora" autocheck>> Aurora</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Cassandra</strong> [<em>Greek</em>] <em>“She who entangles men." In Greek mythology, Cassandra was a Trojan princess and prophetess who was cursed to have her prophecies not believed.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Cassandra" autocheck>> Cassandra</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Cecilia</strong> [<em>Latin</em>] <em>“Blind." Cecilia is the patron saint of musicians.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Cecilia" autocheck>> Cecilia</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Elara</strong> [<em>Greek</em>] <em>Named after one of the moons of Jupiter. In Greek mythology, Elara was a lover of Zeus.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Elara" autocheck>> Elara</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Estella</strong> [<em>Latin</em>] <em>“Star." Derived from the Latin word “stella."</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Estella" autocheck>> Estella</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Laelia</strong> [<em>Latin</em>] <em>An ancient Roman family name.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Laelia" autocheck>> Laelia</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Melinoë</strong> [<em>Greek</em>] <em>Melinoë is a figure in Greek mythology, known as a chthonic nymph and the daughter of Persephone and possibly Hades or Zeus, depending on the myth. She is associated with the underworld, ghosts, and nightmares, often considered a goddess of madness and the restless dead.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Melinoë" autocheck>> Melinoë</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Nerissa</strong> [<em>Greek</em>] <em>“Sea nymph" or “from the sea."</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Nerissa" autocheck>> Nerissa</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Nihal</strong> [<em>Arabic</em>] <em>“Joyful" or “to drink." It’s also a star in the constellation Hydra.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Nihal" autocheck>> Nihal</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Rhea</strong> [<em>Greek</em>] <em>Named after the Titan Rhea in Greek mythology. It’s also a moon of Saturn.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Rhea" autocheck>> Rhea</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Rosalind</strong> [<em>Latin</em>] <em>“Pretty rose." It’s a moon of Uranus named after a character from Shakespeare’s “As You Like It."</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Rosalind" autocheck>> Rosalind</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Selene</strong> [<em>Greek</em>] <em>“Moon." Named after the Greek moon Titan.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Selene" autocheck>> Selene</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Yamini</strong> [<em>Sanskrit</em>] <em> A name of Indian origin meaning “night.”</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Yamini" autocheck>> Yamini</label><</hovertip>>
<</message>>
<<message 'List of traditionally gender-neutral names'>>\
<<hovertip '<strong>Alcor</strong> [<em>Greek</em>] <em>“Faint companion" or “faint one," it’s a star in the constellation Ursa Major, often paired with the brighter star Mizar.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Alcor" autocheck>> Alcor</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Antares</strong> [<em>Greek</em>] <em>“Rival of Mars," it’s a red supergiant star in the constellation Scorpius, known for its distinct reddish hue.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Antares" autocheck>> Antares</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Corvus</strong> [<em>Latin</em>] <em>“Raven," it’s a small constellation in the southern sky, representing a raven in Greek mythology.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Corvus" autocheck>> Corvus</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Cygnus</strong> [<em>Greek</em>] <em>“Swan," it’s a prominent constellation in the northern sky, representing a swan in Greek mythology.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Cygnus" autocheck>> Cygnus</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Deneb</strong> [<em>Arabic</em>] <em>“Tail," it’s a bright star in the constellation Cygnus, forming the tail of the swan.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Deneb" autocheck>> Deneb</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Izar</strong> [<em>Arabic</em>] <em>“Girdle" or “veil," it’s a binary star system in the constellation Boötes.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Izar" autocheck>> Izar</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Keid</strong> [<em>Arabic</em>] <em>“Eggshells," it’s a star in the constellation Eridanus.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Keid" autocheck>> Keid</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Kiran</strong> [<em>Sanskrit</em>] <em>“Ray of light” or “beam of light,” it’s a name often used in Hindu culture.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Kiran" autocheck>> Kiran</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Lacerta</strong> [<em>Latin</em>] <em>“Lizard," it’s a small constellation in the northern sky, representing a lizard.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Lacerta" autocheck>> Lacerta</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Pavo</strong> [<em>Latin</em>] <em>“Peacock," it’s a constellation in the southern sky, representing the peacock.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Pavo" autocheck>> Pavo</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Phobos</strong> [<em>Greek</em>] <em>“Fear," it’s one of the two moons of Mars, named after the Greek god of fear and panic, who was a companion of Ares, the god of war.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Phobos" autocheck>> Phobos</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Rasalas</strong> [<em>Arabic</em>] <em>“The lion’s head," it’s a star in the constellation Leo.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Rasalas" autocheck>> Rasalas</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Saros</strong> [<em>Greek</em>] <em>“Period of eclipse," it’s a cycle used to predict eclipses and other astronomical events.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Saros" autocheck>> Saros</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Solaris</strong> [<em>Latin</em>] <em>“Of the sun," it evokes celestial and planetary imagery, related to the Sun.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Solaris" autocheck>> Solaris</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Zenith</strong> [<em>Arabic</em>] <em>“The highest point in the sky directly above the observer," often used in astronomy to describe the highest point the sun reaches in the sky.</em>'>><label><<radiobutton "$MC_middlename" "Zenith" autocheck>> Zenith</label><</hovertip>><</message>>
<<button "Next" "Ch 2.4">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 2.4]]*/<<if $MC_middlename is "">>Please return to the previous page and enter a middle name in the textbox.<<else>>Your father nods appreciatively to the surroundings and basks in the nostalgic memory the scenery brings him. The Old Campus itself exudes historical significance with its architectural grandeur. You recognize the overall style as Gothic Revival, marked by weathered stone facades and tall, intricate spires. The buildings, adorned with gargoyles and ornate carvings, seem almost alive with whispers of what they must have witnessed in all the years they’ve been standing, their shadows stretching long across the cobblestone paths. The central greenery, consisting of meticulously maintained lawns and mature trees surrounded by ivy-clad walls and grand arches, offers a serene retreat that feels both timeless and a little foreboding as it stretches ahead of you.
The air is crisp, tinged with a hint of strange mustiness which makes you wrinkle your nose uncomfortably. There’s a smell of freshly mowed grass which, thankfully, does a good job of masking the weird smell from becoming overpowering. You glance at your father and see that he seems almost indifferent to it, or did he even smell it at all? A frown mars your face as you suppress a shiver that slips past your thick jacket. Try as you might, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched.
The cobblestone pathways wind through the campus, leading past vine-covered walls and onto your destination.
Rathore College, the oldest institution within Yale, stands looming before you. You try to push past your nervousness and the strange feeling you had earlier and focus on the design of the building. You know that the college was established in the 18th century, characterized by its blend of early Baroque and Gothic styles of architecture–heavy stonework and elaborate ironwork, with silver-painted trim and columns. Overall, you’d say it has aged pretty gracefully with time and even the ivy on the walls seems to hug it lovingly.
“Go ahead,” your father nudges you, encouragingly. “I’ll wait here. Your old man could use a trip down memory lane.”
*[[“So you’re ditching me after all,” you say jokingly.|Ch 2.5.1][$Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 5, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 5, 0, 100)]]
*[[“Alright,” you take a deep breath, “wish me luck.”|Ch 2.5.2][$Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 5, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 5, 0, 100)]]<</if>><<notify>>+ Friendly<</notify>>Your father chuckles, the sound warm and familiar. “Hardly. I figured you’d had enough of my overbearing presence for now." He gives you a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You'll do great. Just believe in yourself and this will be a cakewalk."
You nod, feeling a bit more at ease. “Alright, Dad. I’ll see you in a bit."
With a final smile, you turn and head towards the entrance of Rathore College, your shoes squeaking against the marble tiles as you walk up the stairs. The interior is even more imposing than the outside, with dim lighting and grand chandeliers casting long shadows on the polished stone floors. The walls are lined with portraits of distinguished alumni, their eyes seeming to follow you as you pass. It looks more like you’re in a manor than a college.
“Welcome to Rathore College,” a friendly voice calls out, breaking your reverie. You turn to see a woman in her mid-forties, her professional attire immaculate and her smile warm. “I assume you’re here for an appointment?”
“Oh, yeah,” you respond, fumbling with the printed-out letter that highlighted the process. “I was told I needed to meet up with Professor Carstairs from the Religious Studies department?”
“Of course, $MC_Mr. $MC_surname,” she says, extending her hand. “I’m Mary, one of the administrative assistants here. Professor Carstairs is expecting you already. Follow me, please.”
You frown at that. What did she mean that the professor was expecting you? Did all professors go around giving their students’ names to random administrative assistants? Despite the off-feeling you got, you nod and follow her down a corridor lined with doors leading to various offices. Your mind races with thoughts about the upcoming meeting, but you force yourself to focus on the present, taking in the details of your surroundings.
You make your way down a long corridor, passing students who give you curious glances and checking you out until you reach the office of your academic advisor. The plaque on the door reads:
!!Kathryn Carstairs, Ph.D.
<div id="centered"><h3>Woolsey Professor of Religious Studies and Professor of Ethics</h3><h3>Department of Religious Studies</h3></div>
Mary knocks lightly before opening it and gesturing for you to enter. “Professor Carstairs, $MC_Mr. $MC_surname is here for $hisher appointment.”
<<button "Next" "Ch 2.6">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 2.6]]*/<<notify>>+ Uptight<</notify>>Your father smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You don't need luck, kiddo. But if you insist, best of luck. You’ve got this."
Feeling a bit more confident, you give him a quick hug before turning towards the imposing entrance of Rathore College. The heavy wooden doors groan slightly as you push them open, revealing a grand, dimly lit interior. Chandeliers cast long shadows on the polished stone floors, adding to the sense of ancient splendor. The walls are lined with portraits of distinguished alumni, their eyes seeming to follow you as you pass. It looks more like you’re in a manor than a college.
“Welcome to Rathore College,” a friendly voice calls out, breaking your reverie. You turn to see a woman in her mid-forties, her professional attire immaculate and her smile warm. “I assume you’re here for an appointment?”
“Oh, yeah,” you respond, fumbling with the printed-out letter that highlighted the process. “I was told I needed to meet up with Professor Carstairs from the Religious Studies department?”
“Of course, $MC_Mr. $MC_surname,” she says, extending her hand. “I’m Mary, one of the administrative assistants here. Professor Carstairs is expecting you already. Follow me, please.”
You frown at that. What did she mean that the professor was expecting you? Did all professors go around giving their students’ names to random administrative assistants? Despite the off-feeling you got, you nod and follow her down a corridor lined with doors leading to various offices. Your mind races with thoughts about the upcoming meeting, but you force yourself to focus on the present, taking in the details of your surroundings.
You make your way down a long corridor, passing students who give you curious glances and checking you out until you reach the office of your academic advisor. The plaque on the door reads:
!!Kathryn Carstairs, Ph.D.
<div id="centered"><h3>Woolsey Professor of Religious Studies and Professor of Ethics</h3> <h3>Department of Religious Studies</h3></div>
Mary knocks lightly before opening it and gesturing for you to enter. “Professor Carstairs, $MC_Mr. $MC_surname is here for $hisher appointment.”
<<button "Next" "Ch 2.6">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 2.6]]*/The professor looks up from her desk, her glasses perched on the end of her nose. She has the kind of face reminiscent of Hollywood actresses from the 60s. Regal, elegant, and with just the right amount of confidence which makes one’s head bow in respect. High cheekbones, narrow eyes which are a deep shade of blue, and a face void of wrinkles and age lines. You’d love to know her skincare routine, honestly.
She picks up a file from her desk before leafing through it. “$MC_Mr. $MC_firstname $MC_surname, I assume?”
You try to nod as confidently as possible. “Yes, professor.”
Professor Carstairs gives a non-committal hum before turning to Mary. “I’ll take it from here.”
The assistant simply nods and leaves, leaving you in the presence of one of the most intimidating people you’ve ever faced.
“Have a seat,” she says, simply. The words are more of a command than a request. Not wanting to make an immediate enemy of the faculty, you quickly do as told in one of the plush chairs opposite her desk.
Looking around the office, you take note of how unusually barren it looks. Her degrees were framed on the wall, along with a handful of medals and academic trophies which sat on a shelf on the right. However, you saw that there was a distinct lack of any photographs or memorabilia that would hint at Professor Carstairs as a person.
“I’ve reviewed your application and your transcripts, and I must say, I’m very impressed.”
You startle at her addressing you suddenly and quickly respond.
*[[“Thank you, professor. I hope to do just as well in college.”|Ch 2.7.1][$Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 5, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 5, 0, 100)]]
*[[You lean back in your chair, giving her a casual smile. “Thanks, professor. I’ll just take things as they come.”|Ch 2.7.2][$Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 5, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 5, 0, 100)]]
*[[“I’ve worked very hard for that, so that means a lot coming from you.”|Ch 2.7.3][$Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 5, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 5, 0, 100)]]
*[[“I mean, obviously Yale wouldn’t have accepted me if I didn’t distinguish myself, right?”|Ch 2.7.4][$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 5, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 5, 0, 100)]]
*[[You nod sharply, keeping your expression neutral. “Thank you, professor. I’ll make sure to keep that in mind.”|Ch 2.7.5][$Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 5, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 5, 0, 100)]]
<<notify>>+ Genuine<</notify>>“Keep in mind that things are much different here than in high school,” she says in a tone that suggests she has had similar conversations before. “Don’t expect things to come easily here.”
You wince but nod. It’s not like she was wrong, exactly. Yale was a whole other territory which you had no experience in navigating. It’d be easier to follow through with your professors’ advice and try to do your best. Not to mention Rathore College was very selective when it came to choosing undergraduates to join. This was another area you couldn’t screw up on.
The professor leans forward, folding her hands on the desk. “Regardless, I’m not here to lecture you on your first day on campus. Let’s discuss your curriculum and how we can tailor your studies to align with your goals.”
You nod, happy enough with the decision. “As I’ve mentioned in my application, I’m planning on majoring in $MC_program.”
Professor Carstairs nods, you have a feeling that she’s pleased with your focus. “Straight and to the point, I can appreciate that. Have you had a chance to look at our course catalog?”
“Yes,” you say, pulling out a neatly folded printout from your bag. “I highlighted a few courses that caught my eye…”
<<button "Next" "Ch 2.8">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 2.8]]*/<<notify>>+ Laidback<</notify>>Her eyes narrow slightly, as if unsure whether you’re taking things seriously. “Yale’s not exactly the place to coast through,” she warns. “You’ll need to stay sharp.”
You give her a relaxed nod. “No worries, I’m up for the challenge. Just won’t stress over it too much, you know?”
She huffs softly but can’t hide the faint smile tugging at her lips. “As long as you’re not too easygoing about it. Rathore College doesn’t tolerate mediocrity.”
“Got it,” you say with a grin. “I’ll keep things balanced.”
Though her expression is serious, there’s a slight twinkle in her eye. You get the sense she appreciates your confidence, even if she won’t admit it.
The professor leans forward, folding her hands on the desk. “Regardless, I’m not here to lecture you on your first day on campus. Let’s discuss your curriculum and how we can tailor your studies to align with your goals.”
You nod, happy enough with the decision. “As I’ve mentioned in my application, I’m planning on majoring in $MC_program.”
Professor Carstairs nods, you have a feeling that she’s pleased with your focus. “Straight and to the point, I can appreciate that. Have you had a chance to look at our course catalog?”
“Yes,” you say, pulling out a neatly folded printout from your bag. “I highlighted a few courses that caught my eye…”
<<button "Next" "Ch 2.8">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 2.8]]*/<<notify>>+ Uptight<</notify>>Professor Carstairs raises an eyebrow, her gaze sharp. “Hard work is a start, but don’t assume you’ve made it just yet. Rathore College expects consistent excellence.”
You nod seriously, not letting any doubt creep into your expression. “I understand. I’m fully committed to maintaining those standards.”
She nods in return, her approval subtle. “Good. Just remember, resting on your laurels is a quick way to fall behind here.”
You wince but nod. You were aware that there were students who’d kill to be in your spot. If Yale was prestigious, getting a spot in Rathore College as an undergraduate was even more so. The process is highly selective and not even money or bribery could secure you a spot here if you were deemed unworthy by the admissions council of the college.
The professor leans forward, folding her hands on the desk. “Regardless, I’m not here to lecture you on your first day on campus. Let’s discuss your curriculum and how we can tailor your studies to align with your goals.”
You nod, happy enough with the decision. “As I’ve mentioned in my application, I’m planning on majoring in $MC_program.”
Professor Carstairs nods, you have a feeling that she’s pleased with your focus. “Straight and to the point, I can appreciate that. Have you had a chance to look at our course catalog?”
“Yes,” you say, pulling out a neatly folded printout from your bag. “I highlighted a few courses that caught my eye…”
<<button "Next" "Ch 2.8">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 2.8]]*/<<notify>>+ Arrogant<</notify>>“It is less about distinguishing yourself and more about what we see in your future, $MC_Mr. $MC_surname,” Professor Carstairs answers breezily. “After all, being a legacy admission only improves your chance to get into Yale, not in their best college till date.”
You wince but nod. It is a tough pill to swallow but being a legacy student did improve your chances immensely for getting into Yale. The only reason why you didn’t let it bother you that much was because you were selected to attend Rathore College, and the selection process was purely based on your merit and achievement since they did not care if you were a legacy or not.
The professor leans forward, folding her hands on the desk. “Regardless, I’m not here to lecture you on your first day on campus. Let’s discuss your curriculum and how we can tailor your studies to align with your goals.”
You nod, happy enough with the decision. “As I’ve mentioned in my application, I’m planning on majoring in $MC_program.”
Professor Carstairs nods, you have a feeling that she’s pleased with your focus. “Straight and to the point, I can appreciate that. Have you had a chance to look at our course catalog?”
“Yes,” you say, pulling out a neatly folded printout from your bag. “I highlighted a few courses that caught my eye…”
<<button "Next" "Ch 2.8">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 2.8]]*/<<notify>>+ Aloof<</notify>>Professor Carstairs narrows her eyes slightly, studying your calm demeanor. “It’s important that you understand things won’t come easily here. Yale’s demands are much higher than what you’ve been used to.”
You wince internally but keep your face neutral. “I’m prepared for that. I know the standards, and I’m ready to meet them.”
There’s a flicker of approval in her eyes as she nods. “Good. Rathore College expects nothing less than excellence. Show us you belong.”
You nod again, keeping your expression composed. You’re not here to show weakness, just resolve. You’ve worked too hard to falter now.
The professor leans forward, folding her hands on the desk. “Regardless, I’m not here to lecture you on your first day on campus. Let’s discuss your curriculum and how we can tailor your studies to align with your goals.”
You nod, happy enough with the decision. “As I’ve mentioned in my application, I’m planning on majoring in $MC_program.”
Professor Carstairs nods, you have a feeling that she’s pleased with your focus. “Straight and to the point, I can appreciate that. Have you had a chance to look at our course catalog?”
“Yes,” you say, pulling out a neatly folded printout from your bag. “I highlighted a few courses that caught my eye…”
<<button "Next" "Ch 2.8">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 2.8]]*/The conversation continues, covering various aspects of your upcoming studies and the resources available to you. Professor Carstairs also gives you her two cents on following up on joining some extracurricular activities for networking and gaining practical experiences. She recommends the Freshers’ Activities Fair to see what would make the most sense for you to participate in. Her expertise in guiding students is clear as day, and by the end of the meeting, you feel a renewed sense of purpose and excitement for the long road ahead.
As the meeting wraps up, Professor Carstairs gives you your student ID and stands to extend her hand to you. As opposed to the rigid professionalism she displayed throughout the meeting, there are now slivers of slight fondness in her expression. “I’m looking forward to seeing you in class, $MC_Mr. $MC_surname. Welcome to Yale.”
“Thank you, professor,” you say, shaking her hand. “I’ll see you then.”
Leaving her office, you make your way back to the foyer, your steps lighter and your mind buzzing with the nerves you had felt almost floating away. The grandeur of Yale no longer feels as imposing; instead, it feels like a place where you can truly belong and thrive.
Outside, your father is waiting as he chats amiably with Marvin. Noticing you arrive, he swivels his attention on you.
“So, apple? How did it go?”
*[[“Nobody warned me about how scary Professor Carstairs was,” you groan.|Ch 2.9.1][$Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 5, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 5, 0, 100)]]
*[[“It went well,” you smile. “The professor helped me out a lot.”|Ch 2.9.2][$Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 5, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 5, 0, 100)]]
*[[“Good, I think?” you say, a little uncertainly. “Hopefully, we’d get along pretty well by the end of the semester.”|Ch 2.9.3][$Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist + 5, 0, 100), $Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist - 5, 0, 100)]]
*[[“Just peachy,” you sarcastically drawl.|Ch 2.9.4][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 5, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 5, 0, 100)]]
*[[“It went okay,” you say, cautiously. “I’m trying to gauge how best to approach Professor Carstairs.”|Ch 2.9.5][$Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious + 5, 0, 100), $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive - 5, 0, 100)]]
*[[“It went well,” you say, with a practical tone. “Professor Carstairs gave me some solid advice, though I can see she has high expectations.”|Ch 2.9.6][$Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic + 5, 0, 100), $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional - 5, 0, 100)]]
*[[You simply shrug as an answer. |Ch 2.9.7][$Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 5, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 5, 0, 100)]]<<notify>>+ Laidback<</notify>>Your father laughs, clapping you on the back. “That's Carstairs for you. Tough as nails but she knows her stuff. You'll get used to her."
“You know her?” you ask him, surprised at this revelation.
He nods. “We used to be in the same Ethics class. Didn’t know she became a professor here though, much less your academic advisor.”
“Something tells me I can’t cash in that familiarity for her to go easy on me,” you roll your head back with a groan.
“Nope. She can be intense, apple, but I’m sure it's only because she wants her students to succeed. You'll see."
You nod, feeling a bit more confident. “Yeah, I hope you’re right."
“That’s the spirit!” Your father says, trying to cheer you up. “That’s one step into your college years.”
You don’t have it in you to say anything pessimistic in front of his idealistic gaze so you merely follow him to the residential hall you’ll be staying in.
Blackthorne Hall looms ahead, just a little walking distance from Rathore College, an imposing structure that seems almost sentient in its brooding presence. The building, with its dark stone façade covered in anachronistically creeping ivy. Its Gothic spires reach skyward, piercing the low-hanging clouds as if to ward off any unworthy folks who’d even dare to enter. The windows are tall and narrow, their leaded glass panes reflecting the muted light in a way that gives the hall an almost otherworldly glow. It was almost as if you were visiting Dracula’s castle and not a dormitory building.
As you approach the entrance, the heavy wenge hardwood doors, carved with intricate designs and symbols, are highlighted with silver trimmings. The door knobs are also silver with a viper sculpted on it. The unsettling feeling of being watched returns, the weight of unseen eyes pressing on your shoulders as you swivel around to see the culprit(s) but find none. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and aged wood, mingling with a faint hint of something metallic.
<<button "Like blood and rust." "Ch 2.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 2.10]]*/<<notify>>+ Friendly<</notify>>Your father smiles back, clearly pleased. “That's great to hear. Carstairs may be tough, but I heard she's one of the best here."
“You know her?” you ask him, surprised at this revelation.
He nods. “We used to be in the same Ethics class. Didn’t know she became a professor here though, much less your academic advisor.”
“Something tells me I can’t cash in that familiarity for her to go easy on me,” you roll your head back with a groan. “I can see why she might be considered one of the best though. She gave me a lot of good advice.”
“Good. Just remember to take it one step at a time and don't be afraid to ask for help if needed. I’m sure she’ll be glad to help her students out."
You nod, feeling a bit more confident. “Yeah, I'll do that."
“That’s the spirit!” Your father says, trying to cheer you up. “That’s one step into your college years.”
You don’t have it in you to say anything pessimistic in front of his idealistic gaze so you merely follow him to the residential hall you’ll be staying in.
Blackthorne Hall looms ahead, just a little walking distance from Rathore College, an imposing structure that seems almost sentient in its brooding presence. The building, with its dark stone façade covered in anachronistically creeping ivy. Its Gothic spires reach skyward, piercing the low-hanging clouds as if to ward off any unworthy folks who’d even dare to enter. The windows are tall and narrow, their leaded glass panes reflecting the muted light in a way that gives the hall an almost otherworldly glow. It was almost as if you were visiting Dracula’s castle and not a dormitory building.
As you approach the entrance, the heavy wenge hardwood doors, carved with intricate designs and symbols, are highlighted with silver trimmings. The door knobs are also silver with a viper sculpted on it. The unsettling feeling of being watched returns, the weight of unseen eyes pressing on your shoulders as you swivel around to see the culprit(s) but find none. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and aged wood, mingling with a faint hint of something metallic.
<<button "Like blood and rust." "Ch 2.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 2.10]]*/<<notify>>+ Optimist<</notify>>Your father chuckles. “You'll be fine. If Carstairs is still the same as she was in university, she’ll appreciate the diligence you show."
“You know her?” you ask him, surprised at this revelation.
He nods. “We used to be in the same Ethics class. Didn’t know she became a professor here though, much less your academic advisor.”
“Something tells me I can’t cash in that familiarity for her to go easy on me,” you roll your head back with a groan.
“Just keep doing your best and stay focused, little apple,” your father says while patting your shoulder. “I believe in you.”
You nod, feeling a bit more confident. “Yeah, I'll do that."
“That’s the spirit!” Your father says, trying to cheer you up. “That’s one step into your college years.”
You don’t have it in you to say anything pessimistic in front of his idealistic gaze so you merely follow him to the residential hall you’ll be staying in.
Blackthorne Hall looms ahead, just a little walking distance from Rathore College, an imposing structure that seems almost sentient in its brooding presence. The building, with its dark stone façade covered in anachronistically creeping ivy. Its Gothic spires reach skyward, piercing the low-hanging clouds as if to ward off any unworthy folks who’d even dare to enter. The windows are tall and narrow, their leaded glass panes reflecting the muted light in a way that gives the hall an almost otherworldly glow. It was almost as if you were visiting Dracula’s castle and not a dormitory building.
As you approach the entrance, the heavy wenge hardwood doors, carved with intricate designs and symbols, are highlighted with silver trimmings. The door knobs are also silver with a viper sculpted on it. The unsettling feeling of being watched returns, the weight of unseen eyes pressing on your shoulders as you swivel around to see the culprit(s) but find none. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and aged wood, mingling with a faint hint of something metallic.
<<button "Like blood and rust." "Ch 2.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 2.10]]*/<<notify>>+ Sarcastic<</notify>>Your father raises an eyebrow, smirking. “That bad, huh?"
You sigh. “Not really. She was just really intense. But she knows her stuff."
He hums. “That sounds like Carstairs. Just remember, she's there to help you succeed, even if she seems tough."
“You know her?” you ask him, surprised at this revelation.
He nods. “We used to be in the same Ethics class. Didn’t know she became a professor here though, much less your academic advisor.”
“Something tells me I can’t cash in that familiarity for her to go easy on me,” you roll your head back with a groan. “But yeah, I guess you're right."
“That’s the spirit!” Your father says, trying to cheer you up. “That’s one step into your college years.”
You don’t have it in you to say anything pessimistic in front of his idealistic gaze so you merely follow him to the residential hall you’ll be staying in.
Blackthorne Hall looms ahead, just a little walking distance from Rathore College, an imposing structure that seems almost sentient in its brooding presence. The building, with its dark stone façade covered in anachronistically creeping ivy. Its Gothic spires reach skyward, piercing the low-hanging clouds as if to ward off any unworthy folks who’d even dare to enter. The windows are tall and narrow, their leaded glass panes reflecting the muted light in a way that gives the hall an almost otherworldly glow. It was almost as if you were visiting Dracula’s castle and not a dormitory building.
As you approach the entrance, the heavy wenge hardwood doors, carved with intricate designs and symbols, are highlighted with silver trimmings. The door knobs are also silver with a viper sculpted on it. The unsettling feeling of being watched returns, the weight of unseen eyes pressing on your shoulders as you swivel around to see the culprit(s) but find none. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and aged wood, mingling with a faint hint of something metallic.
<<button "Like blood and rust." "Ch 2.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 2.10]]*/<<notify>>+ Pragmatic<</notify>>Your father nods thoughtfully. “That’s good to hear. High expectations can be a challenge, but with Carstairs, they’re often a sign that she is invested in your success.”
“You know her?” you ask him, curious about this connection.
“We used to be in the same Ethics class. Didn’t know she became a professor here though, much less your academic advisor.”
You raise an eyebrow. “I guess her high standards are a good thing. It means she’s pushing me to meet them. I’ll need to stay on top of my game.”
“Exactly,” he agrees. “And remember, the effort you put in now will pay off in the long run.”
You nod, feeling determined. “I’ll make sure of it.”
“That’s the spirit!” Your father says, trying to cheer you up. “That’s one step into your college years.”
You don’t have it in you to say anything pessimistic in front of his idealistic gaze so you merely follow him to the residential hall you’ll be staying in.
Blackthorne Hall looms ahead, just a little walking distance from Rathore College, an imposing structure that seems almost sentient in its brooding presence. The building, with its dark stone façade covered in anachronistically creeping ivy. Its Gothic spires reach skyward, piercing the low-hanging clouds as if to ward off any unworthy folks who’d even dare to enter. The windows are tall and narrow, their leaded glass panes reflecting the muted light in a way that gives the hall an almost otherworldly glow. It was almost as if you were visiting Dracula’s castle and not a dormitory building.
As you approach the entrance, the heavy wenge hardwood doors, carved with intricate designs and symbols, are highlighted with silver trimmings. The door knobs are also silver with a viper sculpted on it. The unsettling feeling of being watched returns, the weight of unseen eyes pressing on your shoulders as you swivel around to see the culprit(s) but find none. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and aged wood, mingling with a faint hint of something metallic.
<<button "Like blood and rust." "Ch 2.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 2.10]]*/<<notify>>+ Aloof<</notify>>Your father gives you a sympathetic look. “That tough, huh? Sounds like the Carstairs I know."
“You know her?” you ask him, surprised at this revelation.
He nods. “We used to be in the same Ethics class. Didn’t know she became a professor here though, much less your academic advisor.”
“Something tells me I can’t cash in that familiarity for her to go easy on me,” you roll your head back with a groan.
“Nope. I know she’s intense, little apple, but she's also one of the best. Just take it one step at a time. You can do it."
You nod again, feeling a bit more reassured. “I'll try."
“That’s the spirit!” Your father says, trying to cheer you up. “That’s one step into your college years.”
You don’t have it in you to say anything pessimistic in front of his idealistic gaze so you merely follow him to the residential hall you’ll be staying in.
Blackthorne Hall looms ahead, just a little walking distance from Rathore College, an imposing structure that seems almost sentient in its brooding presence. The building, with its dark stone façade covered in anachronistically creeping ivy. Its Gothic spires reach skyward, piercing the low-hanging clouds as if to ward off any unworthy folks who’d even dare to enter. The windows are tall and narrow, their leaded glass panes reflecting the muted light in a way that gives the hall an almost otherworldly glow. It was almost as if you were visiting Dracula’s castle and not a dormitory building.
As you approach the entrance, the heavy wenge hardwood doors, carved with intricate designs and symbols, are highlighted with silver trimmings. The door knobs are also silver with a viper sculpted on it. The unsettling feeling of being watched returns, the weight of unseen eyes pressing on your shoulders as you swivel around to see the culprit(s) but find none. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and aged wood, mingling with a faint hint of something metallic.
<<button "Like blood and rust." "Ch 2.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 2.10]]*/<<notify>>+ Cautious<</notify>>Your father laughs heartily. “That's Carstairs for you. She can be intimidating, I know, but she's fair."
“You know her?” you ask him, surprised at this revelation.
He nods. “We used to be in the same Ethics class. Didn’t know she became a professor here though, much less your academic advisor.”
“Something tells me I can’t cash in that familiarity for her to go easy on me,” you roll your head back with a groan. “ But I hope you’re right. She definitely seems like she knows her stuff.”
“She does. Just give it some time and you'll get used to her."
You nod again, feeling a bit more reassured. “I'll try."
“That’s the spirit!” Your father says, trying to cheer you up. “That’s one step into your college years.”
You don’t have it in you to say anything pessimistic in front of his idealistic gaze so you merely follow him to the residential hall you’ll be staying in.
Blackthorne Hall looms ahead, just a little walking distance from Rathore College, an imposing structure that seems almost sentient in its brooding presence. The building, with its dark stone façade covered in anachronistically creeping ivy. Its Gothic spires reach skyward, piercing the low-hanging clouds as if to ward off any unworthy folks who’d even dare to enter. The windows are tall and narrow, their leaded glass panes reflecting the muted light in a way that gives the hall an almost otherworldly glow. It was almost as if you were visiting Dracula’s castle and not a dormitory building.
As you approach the entrance, the heavy wenge hardwood doors, carved with intricate designs and symbols, are highlighted with silver trimmings. The door knobs are also silver with a viper sculpted on it. The unsettling feeling of being watched returns, the weight of unseen eyes pressing on your shoulders as you swivel around to see the culprit(s) but find none. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and aged wood, mingling with a faint hint of something metallic.
<<button "Like blood and rust." "Ch 2.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 2.10]]*/<<notify>>Saved!<</notify>>“Your mother also used to live in Blackthorne Hall,” your father pipes up with a nostalgic sigh. “I had to sneak out from Vanderbilt all the time to sleep over at her dorms.”
You scrunch your nose. “How was that even allowed?”
“The dormitories are co-ed so the RA didn’t really mind,” he shrugs. “Of course, you couldn’t go around bragging about it, but they were pretty lenient back then.”
“Did you get any studying done with all that fooling around?”
“I’m surprised you’d even doubt us,” your father says with a mock gasp. “Your mother graduated at the top of her class, you know.”
“And you?” you ask with a raise of an eyebrow.
“You know, I really should be going now,” he quickly says, looking at the wrong wrist for his watch. “I’ll be late for my flight.”
“Right, sure,” you tease. “I think I can fill in the blanks.”
Your father rolls his eyes at your cheekiness before smiling. “Alright then, little apple. Got everything you’d need? Clothes, credit cards, sho–”
“Yes, Dad,” you answer with a borderline whine. “Now, please stop nagging.”
He raises his hands in surrender. “Okay, little boss. You know best.”
The two of you share a moment of silence, the kind that feels both comforting and heavy with unspoken words. All of a sudden, he pulls you into a tight hug, and for a second, you’re a child again, clinging to your father like he’s the only thing anchoring you to the world as the storm of your overwhelming emotions threatens to swallow you whole.
“You’re going to do great things here," he murmurs into your hair. “I know you will.”
You nod against his chest, not trusting your voice to stay steady. Finally, you pull away, and he gives you one last smile before heading off to his car. Marvin brings your luggage up the stairs of the hall before giving you a swift bow and following behind your father.
You watch as they turn a corner until you lose sight of them, leaving you standing there feeling well and truly on your own for the first time in your life.
*[[You take a deep breath and look ahead, determined to not disappoint anyone.|Ch 2.11][$Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 5, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 5, 0, 100), $option to 1]]
*[[A tear slips past your cheeks before you can think to stop it.|Ch 2.11][$Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 5, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 5, 0, 100), $option to 2]]
*[[Honestly, you’re already planning to party as much as your schedule will let you.|Ch 2.11][$Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 5, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 5, 0, 100), $Extrovert to Math.clamp($Extrovert + 5, 0, 100), $Introvert to Math.clamp($Introvert - 5, 0, 100), $option to 3]]
*[[You’re scared shitless but fake it till you make it, right?|Ch 2.11][$Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 5, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 5, 0, 100), $Introvert to Math.clamp($Introvert + 5, 0, 100), $Extrovert to Math.clamp($Extrovert - 5, 0, 100), $option to 4]]<<if $option is 1>><<notify>>+ Uptight<</notify>><<elseif $option is 2>><<notify>>+ Genuine<</notify>><<elseif $option is 3>><<notify>>+ Laidback, + Extrovert<</notify>><<elseif $option is 4>><<notify>>+ Humble, + Introvert<</notify>><</if>><<unset $option>>Regardless of your internal response, you take a few steps into Blackthorne Hall, the grand entrance doors creaking slightly as they open to reveal the dimly lit foyer.
The interior is even more imposing than the outside of the building, with its high ceilings, dark wood paneling, and an enormous gold chandelier casting flickering shadows across the room. The corridor stretches ahead, lined with portraits of stern-faced alumni of importance that date back centuries. Their eyes seem alive as they watch your every move. The dull mahogany walls are shiny with years of polish. Candles flicker in iron sconces, casting dancing shadows that you don’t want to spend too much time gazing into.
Each step you take echoes softly and you strain your ears to listen to any sound of life you might hear. Alas, the only noise you can hear is from outside the hall as the interior is steeped in pin-drop silence.
The sound of your footsteps rings through the hall as you make your way to the front desk. There is only one living soul you noticed here, and…
*[[it is the RA as he sifts through a pile of paperwork.|Ch 2.12][$M_name to "Maxwell", $M_middle to "Edmund", $M_gender to "male", $M_person to "man", $M_prince to "prince", $M_Prince to "Prince", $M_Mr to "Mr", $M_HeShe to "He", $M_heshe to "he", $M_HimHer to "Him", $M_himher to "him", $M_HisHer to "His", $M_hisher to "his", $M_HisHers to "His", $M_hishers to "his", $M_Himself to "Himself", $M_himself to "himself"]]
*[[it is the RA as she sifts through a pile of paperwork.|Ch 2.12][$M_name to "Maxine", $M_middle to "Edythe", $M_gender to "female", $M_person to "woman", $M_prince to "princess", $M_Prince to "Princess", $M_Mr to "Ms", $M_HeShe to "She", $M_heshe to "she", $M_HimHer to "Her", $M_himher to "her", $M_HisHer to "Her", $M_hisher to "her", $M_HisHers to "Hers", $M_hishers to "hers", $M_Himself to "Herself", $M_himself to "herself"]]“Um, hello? I’m $MC_firstname $MC_surname. I’m here to get my dorm keys?”
The RA finally glances up, $M_hisher gaze steady and cool. The badge on $M_hisher blazer reads $M_hisher name: $M_name Whitlock-Singh.
$M_HisHer face is strikingly angular, with high cheekbones that cast delicate shadows under the flickering light of the chandelier. $M_HisHer almond-shaped eyes, a fierce shade of umber brown, are framed by thick, perfectly groomed eyebrows. They seem to scrutinize you with an intensity that feels almost clinical, like you’re standing in a doctor’s office after getting a UTI.
$M_HisHer skin is a smooth, tawny brown, flawless and luminous even in the dim light. There’s a precision to $M_hisher features that makes you think of classical sculptures: a slender, grecian nose, full lips that are currently pressed into a thin line of mild impatience, and a sharp jawline that adds to $M_hisher overall aura of severity.
<<if $M_gender is "male">>$M_HisHer thick and wavy jet-black hair is cut up to $M_hisher ears and styled in a windswept look. $M_HeShe’s dressed in an unbuttoned fitted charcoal suit, the kind that straddles the line between formal and casual, paired with a crisp white shirt and black trousers. There’s an effortless quality to the way $M_heshe wears it, as if $M_heshe could just as easily be found reading a book in the library or debating philosophy over a glass of whiskey. You hadn’t imagined a mere RA to be dressed in an ensemble like this. But then again, you’re at Yale so maybe they do it fancier here.<<else>>$M_HisHer long and wavy jet-black hair is pulled back into a sleek ponytail, not a single strand out of place, accentuating the elegant curve of $M_hisher neck. $M_HeShe’s dressed in a simple yet impeccably tailored professional outfit—a black pencil skirt that reaches just below the knee, paired with a white blouse tucked in at the waist, and a charcoal tailored blazer. There’s an effortless quality to the way $M_heshe wears it, as if $M_heshe could just as easily be found reading a book in the library or debating philosophy over a glass of whiskey. You hadn’t imagined a mere RA to be dressed in an ensemble like this. But then again, you’re at Yale so maybe they do it fancier here.<</if>>
As $M_heshe regards you, there is no warmth in $M_hisher expression, only a professional detachment that feels slightly unnerving.
“Are you going to keep staring at me or let me assist you?” The words, along with the cadence of a regal English accent, snaps you out of your thoughts.
*[[“Oh yeah, sorry about that,” you say, embarrassed from being caught.|Ch 2.13.1][$Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 5, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 5, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+5]]
*[[“Sorry, I just spaced out,” you try to lie out of the situation.|Ch 2.13.2][$Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 5, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 5, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+4]]
*<<link '“I’m new here, just trying to get my bearings,” you explain, hoping $M_heshe understands that you weren’t trying to be creepy.' "Ch 2.13.3">><<set $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 5, 0, 100); $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 5, 0, 100); $M_friendship to $M_friendship+4>><</link>> /*[[Ch 2.13.3]]*/
*[[You feel your face heat up furiously at being caught. Just your luck that the RA had to be so hot. [♥]|Ch 2.13.4][$Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 5, 0, 100), $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 5, 0, 100), $M_romance to $M_romance+1]]
*[[“I apologize, I just didn’t expect my RA would look this stunning,” you flirt blatantly with a smirk. [♥]|Ch 2.13.5][$Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 5, 0, 100), $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 5, 0, 100), $M_romance to $M_romance+1]]<<notify>>+ Friendly<</notify>>$M_name’s expression remains impassive as $M_heshe nods. “I’ll need your student ID and confirmation letter.”
You fumble for your ID and letter, handing them over. $M_HeShe examines them closely, then stands up from behind the desk before grabbing a set of keys from the drawer. “I’m almost done with my paperwork anyway. Follow me. I’ll show you to your room.”
$M_name leads you down the dimly lit corridor, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the polished mahogany walls. The alumni portraits become sparse as you near the grand staircase.
“You’re in room 372,” $M_name says as $M_heshe ascends the steps with an almost aristocratic grace. “Third floor, end of the hall.”
The journey up the stairs is mostly silent, save for the soft creaks of the old wood beneath your feet. You debate on trying to make small talk before $M_heshe speaks up.
“Before you settle in, there are a few ground rules you need to be aware of for Blackthorne Hall.”
You nod, listening intently.
“Curfew is at 11 PM on weekdays,” $M_name begins. “No loud noises after 10 PM. The only exceptions to this rule are the bi-weekly dinners in the dining hall. These dinners are mandatory for all Blackthorne residents, and formal attire is a must.”
$M_HeShe continues, “We expect everyone to respect each other’s space and maintain a clean living environment. The commons area on the first floor is available for studying and socializing, but please keep it tidy. There’s a no-alcohol policy in the dorm rooms, but we do have sanctioned parties in the commons once a month. These parties are well-monitored, so no funny business.”
$M_HeShe points down the stairs. “Laundry facilities are in the basement, and they’re open 24/7. Be considerate of others’ schedules, though, and don’t leave your laundry unattended for long periods of time. Nobody is going to be held liable but you if you lose your favorite underwear.”
You try to gauge if $M_heshe was joking but $M_name doesn’t seem to know the meaning of a joke, so you doubt it.
“I have a few questions,” you speak up.
$M_name leans $M_hisher head in what you assume is a ‘go ahead’ gesture.
<<button "Next" "Questions">><</button>>
/*[[Questions]]*/<<notify>>+ Laidback<</notify>>$M_name raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. “I’ll need your student ID and confirmation letter.”
You quickly hand them over, trying to keep your cool. $M_HeShe examines them closely, then stands up from behind the desk before grabbing a set of keys from the drawer. “I’m almost done with my paperwork anyway. Follow me. I’ll show you to your room.”
$M_name leads you down the dimly lit corridor, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the polished mahogany walls. The alumni portraits become sparse as you near the grand staircase.
“You’re in room 372,” $M_name says as $M_heshe ascends the steps with an almost aristocratic grace. “Third floor, end of the hall.”
The journey up the stairs is mostly silent, save for the soft creaks of the old wood beneath your feet. You debate on trying to make small talk before $M_heshe speaks up.
“Before you settle in, there are a few ground rules you need to be aware of for Blackthorne Hall.”
You nod, listening intently.
“Curfew is at 11 PM on weekdays,” $M_name begins. “No loud noises after 10 PM. The only exceptions to this rule are the bi-weekly dinners in the dining hall. These dinners are mandatory for all Blackthorne residents, and formal attire is a must.”
$M_HeShe continues, “We expect everyone to respect each other’s space and maintain a clean living environment. The commons area on the first floor is available for studying and socializing, but please keep it tidy. There’s a no-alcohol policy in the dorm rooms, but we do have sanctioned parties in the commons once a month. These parties are well-monitored, so no funny business.”
$M_HeShe points down the stairs. “Laundry facilities are in the basement, and they’re open 24/7. Be considerate of others’ schedules, though, and don’t leave your laundry unattended for long periods of time. Nobody is going to be held liable but you if you lose your favorite underwear.”
You try to gauge if $M_heshe was joking but $M_name doesn’t seem to know the meaning of a joke, so you doubt it.
“I have a few questions,” you speak up.
$M_name leans $M_hisher head in what you assume is a ‘go ahead’ gesture.
<<button "Next" "Questions">><</button>>
/*[[Questions]]*/<<notify>>+ Genuine<</notify>>$M_name’s gaze softens just a fraction. “I understand. I’ll need your student ID and confirmation letter.”
You hand them over. $M_HeShe examines them closely, then stands up from behind the desk before grabbing a set of keys from the drawer. “I’m almost done with my paperwork anyway. Follow me. I’ll show you to your room.”
$M_name leads you down the dimly lit corridor, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the polished mahogany walls. The alumni portraits become sparse as you near the grand staircase.
“You’re in room 372,” $M_name says as $M_heshe ascends the steps with an almost aristocratic grace. “Third floor, end of the hall.”
The journey up the stairs is mostly silent, save for the soft creaks of the old wood beneath your feet. You debate on trying to make small talk before $M_heshe speaks up.
“Before you settle in, there are a few ground rules you need to be aware of for Blackthorne Hall.”
You nod, listening intently.
“Curfew is at 11 PM on weekdays,” $M_name begins. “No loud noises after 10 PM. The only exceptions to this rule are the bi-weekly dinners in the dining hall. These dinners are mandatory for all Blackthorne residents, and formal attire is a must.”
$M_HeShe continues, “We expect everyone to respect each other’s space and maintain a clean living environment. The commons area on the first floor is available for studying and socializing, but please keep it tidy. There’s a no-alcohol policy in the dorm rooms, but we do have sanctioned parties in the commons once a month. These parties are well-monitored, so no funny business.”
$M_HeShe points down the stairs. “Laundry facilities are in the basement, and they’re open 24/7. Be considerate of others’ schedules, though, and don’t leave your laundry unattended for long periods of time. Nobody is going to be held liable but you if you lose your favorite underwear.”
You try to gauge if $M_heshe was joking but $M_name doesn’t seem to know the meaning of a joke, so you doubt it.
“I have a few questions,” you speak up.
$M_name leans $M_hisher head in what you assume is a ‘go ahead’ gesture.
<<button "Next" "Questions">><</button>>
/*[[Questions]]*/<<notify>>+ Shy<</notify>>$M_name smirks slightly, a hint of amusement in $M_hisher eyes which looks pretty out of place. “I’ll need your student ID and confirmation letter.”
You fumble to hand them over, cheeks burning. $M_HeShe examines them closely, then stands up from behind the desk before grabbing a set of keys from the drawer. “I’m almost done with my paperwork anyway. Follow me. I’ll show you to your room.”
$M_name leads you down the dimly lit corridor, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the polished mahogany walls. The alumni portraits become sparse as you near the grand staircase.
“You’re in room 372,” $M_name says as $M_heshe ascends the steps with an almost aristocratic grace. “Third floor, end of the hall.”
The journey up the stairs is mostly silent, save for the soft creaks of the old wood beneath your feet. You debate on trying to make small talk before $M_heshe speaks up.
“Before you settle in, there are a few ground rules you need to be aware of for Blackthorne Hall.”
You nod, listening intently.
“Curfew is at 11 PM on weekdays,” $M_name begins. “No loud noises after 10 PM. The only exceptions to this rule are the bi-weekly dinners in the dining hall. These dinners are mandatory for all Blackthorne residents, and formal attire is a must.”
$M_HeShe continues, “We expect everyone to respect each other’s space and maintain a clean living environment. The commons area on the first floor is available for studying and socializing, but please keep it tidy. There’s a no-alcohol policy in the dorm rooms, but we do have sanctioned parties in the commons once a month. These parties are well-monitored, so no funny business.”
$M_HeShe points down the stairs. “Laundry facilities are in the basement, and they’re open 24/7. Be considerate of others’ schedules, though, and don’t leave your laundry unattended for long periods of time. Nobody is going to be held liable but you if you lose your favorite underwear.”
You try to gauge if $M_heshe was joking but $M_name doesn’t seem to know the meaning of a joke, so you doubt it.
“I have a few questions,” you speak up.
$M_name leans $M_hisher head in what you assume is a ‘go ahead’ gesture.
<<button "Next" "Questions">><</button>>
/*[[Questions]]*/<<notify>>+ Bold<</notify>>$M_name’s eyes narrow slightly, $M_hisher expression giving away how unimpressed $M_heshe is. “Flattery will get you nowhere. I’ll need your student ID and confirmation letter.”
You sigh as you realize your flirting attempt has fallen flat and hand them over. $M_HeShe examines them closely, then stands up from behind the desk before grabbing a set of keys from the drawer. “I’m almost done with my paperwork anyway. Follow me. I’ll show you to your room.”
$M_name leads you down the dimly lit corridor, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the polished mahogany walls. The alumni portraits become sparse as you near the grand staircase.
“You’re in room 372,” $M_name says as $M_heshe ascends the steps with an almost aristocratic grace. “Third floor, end of the hall.”
The journey up the stairs is mostly silent, save for the soft creaks of the old wood beneath your feet. You debate on trying to make small talk before $M_heshe speaks up.
“Before you settle in, there are a few ground rules you need to be aware of for Blackthorne Hall.”
You nod, listening intently.
“Curfew is at 11 PM on weekdays,” $M_name begins. “No loud noises after 10 PM. The only exceptions to this rule are the bi-weekly dinners in the dining hall. These dinners are mandatory for all Blackthorne residents, and formal attire is a must.”
$M_HeShe continues, “We expect everyone to respect each other’s space and maintain a clean living environment. The commons area on the first floor is available for studying and socializing, but please keep it tidy. There’s a no-alcohol policy in the dorm rooms, but we do have sanctioned parties in the commons once a month. These parties are well-monitored, so no funny business.”
$M_HeShe points down the stairs. “Laundry facilities are in the basement, and they’re open 24/7. Be considerate of others’ schedules, though, and don’t leave your laundry unattended for long periods of time. Nobody is going to be held liable but you if you lose your favorite underwear.”
You try to gauge if $M_heshe was joking but $M_name doesn’t seem to know the meaning of a joke, so you doubt it.
“I have a few questions,” you speak up.
$M_name leans $M_hisher head in what you assume is a ‘go ahead’ gesture.
<<button "Next" "Questions">><</button>>
/*[[Questions]]*/*<<if hasVisited("Blackthorne Hall History")>>“Can you tell me about the history of Blackthorne Hall?”<<else>>[[“Can you tell me about the history of Blackthorne Hall?”|Blackthorne Hall History]]<</if>>
*<<if hasVisited("bi-weekly dinners")>>“What are the bi-weekly dinners like? Is it really compulsory?”<<else>>[[“What are the bi-weekly dinners like? Is it really compulsory?”|bi-weekly dinners]]<</if>>
*<<if hasVisited("special events or traditions")>>“Are there any special events or traditions specific to Blackthorne Hall?”<<else>>[[“Are there any special events or traditions specific to Blackthorne Hall?”|special events or traditions]]<</if>>
*<<if hasVisited("rivalry")>>“I’ve heard rumors that there is a rivalry going on with some other halls?”<<else>>[[“I’ve heard rumors that there is a rivalry going on with some other halls?”|rivalry]]<</if>>
*<<if hasVisited("inviting friends")>>“Can I invite friends from other residential buildings?”<<else>>[[“Can I invite friends from other residential buildings?”|inviting friends]]<</if>>“Blackthorne Hall has a pretty rich history,” $M_heshe says, $M_hisher tone droning as if reading from a manual. “It has been around as early as Rathore College and is one of the oldest residential buildings at Yale. It used to be a meeting place for some of Yale’s most influential alumni from all walks of careers. The hall’s name itself comes from one of Yale’s earliest benefactors, Lord Ezekiel Blackthorne, whose family was known for their contributions to education and the arts.”
$M_HisHer chest puffs up a little with pride. “Blackthorne Hall was also the first to endorse more students from diverse backgrounds into getting admitted to Yale and paved the way for equality in education regardless of anyone’s gender, race, class, and sexuality.”
$M_name’s eyes find yours as $M_heshe locks you in place with $M_hisher umber brown gaze. “Living here means you’re part of a continuing legacy. The hall has seen countless students pass through its doors, each leaving their touches in their respective fields. They say that these halls mark the students with a golden future. It’s an honor and a responsibility to uphold the standards that have been set over centuries by those who came before you. All I’m asking you is to not become a stain on the history of these halls.”
<div id="centered"><<if hasVisited("Blackthorne Hall History", "bi-weekly dinners", "special events or traditions", "rivalry", "inviting friends")>>[[You're done asking questions.|Ch 2.14]]<<else>>[[Ask another question.|Questions]]<</if>></div>$M_name raises an eyebrow. “Unless you have prior appointments or an emergency, missing them is a one-way ticket to be transferred into another hall. And trust me,” $M_heshe adds cryptically, “you do not want that. Unless you’re a glutton for misfortunes, of course.”
“The dinners are formal events,” $M_heshe continues, looking back ahead. “Everyone in the hall gathers in the grand dining room. It’s an excellent opportunity for you to meet your fellow residents and some of the faculty. Think long tables set with silverware, candelabras, and everyone dressed in their best. We stick to a dress code, so it’s good practice for real-world networking. Plus, the food is usually pretty good and catered towards most dietary restrictions.”
<div id="centered"><<if hasVisited("Blackthorne Hall History", "bi-weekly dinners", "special events or traditions", "rivalry", "inviting friends")>>[[You're done asking questions.|Ch 2.14]]<<else>>[[Ask another question.|Questions]]<</if>></div>$M_name’s eyes light up a bit. “Absolutely. One of the biggest events is the Blackthorne Ball, which is a formal event held annually. It’s the main highlight of the year, with live music, dancing, and incredible food. Think preppy prom night but fancier since it’s in a masquerade style. We also host guest lectures from notable alumni and scholars, which are great opportunities to learn and network. There’s also the Blackthorne Scare, a medieval-style banquet held during Halloween, complete with costumes and entertainment. If you stay on-campus during winter break, you can also join the Christmas feast with everyone.”
<div id="centered"><<if hasVisited("Blackthorne Hall History", "bi-weekly dinners", "special events or traditions", "rivalry", "inviting friends")>>[[You're done asking questions.|Ch 2.14]]<<else>>[[Ask another question.|Questions]]<</if>></div>$M_name’s expression tightens slightly, and there’s a noticeable edge in $M_hisher voice. “Ah, the one with Vanderbilt Hall. It’s pretty intense. As far as I know, we’ve been competing with them for as long as anyone can remember. Whether it’s for top academic honors, sports trophies, or even just bragging rights, it’s a big deal. The competition can get pretty fierce and the pranks we play on each other cause a fair bit of headache for everyone involved.”
“It’s all part of the experience, though,” $M_heshe continues with a hint of annoyance. “At least that’s what the faculties say. But I do agree that it’s meant to push you to excel and make you withstand any challenges you’re thrown. Just remember that we can give back as well as we get and don’t let anyone push you around.”
<div id="centered"><<if hasVisited("Blackthorne Hall History", "bi-weekly dinners", "special events or traditions", "rivalry", "inviting friends")>>[[You're done asking questions.|Ch 2.14]]<<else>>[[Ask another question.|Questions]]<</if>></div>$M_name’s gaze becomes a bit more serious. “You can have guests, but they need to check in with the front desk and follow the hall’s visitor policies. We don’t want random people wandering around, and we also need to ensure everyone’s safety and privacy.”
“Your guests will need to show a valid ID when they check-in. Also, they can only stay in the common areas or your room if you’re present. If you’re planning a gathering or a get-together, it’s a good idea to inform us ahead of time. This way, we can make sure everything goes smoothly and there aren’t any surprises.”
<div id="centered"><<if hasVisited("Blackthorne Hall History", "bi-weekly dinners", "special events or traditions", "rivalry", "inviting friends")>>[[You're done asking questions.|Ch 2.14]]<<else>>[[Ask another question.|Questions]]<</if>></div><<if $M_gender is "male">><<if $MC_height is "very short" or $MC_height is "short" or $MC_height is "average" or $MC_height is "tall">>You store the pieces of information you’re provided with as you follow the RA along the third-floor hallway. When you reach suite number 7, $M_heshe looks down to meet your eyes.<<elseif $MC_height is "very tall">>You store the pieces of information you’re provided with as you follow the RA along the third-floor hallway. When you reach suite number 7, $M_heshe looks at you straight in the eyes.<<elseif $MC_height is "towering">>You store the pieces of information you’re provided with as you follow the RA along the third-floor hallway. When you reach suite number 7, $M_heshe looks up at you to meet your eyes.<</if>><<elseif $M_gender is "female">><<if $MC_height is "very short" or $MC_height is "short" or $MC_height is "average">>You store the pieces of information you’re provided with as you follow the RA along the third-floor hallway. When you reach suite number 7, $M_heshe looks down to meet your eyes.<<elseif $MC_height is "tall">>You store the pieces of information you’re provided with as you follow the RA along the third-floor hallway. When you reach suite number 7, $M_heshe looks at you straight in the eyes.<<elseif $MC_height is "very tall">>You store the pieces of information you’re provided with as you follow the RA along the third-floor hallway. When you reach suite number 7, $M_heshe looks up at you to meet your eyes.<<else>>You store the pieces of information you’re provided with as you follow the RA along the third-floor hallway. When you reach suite number 7, $M_heshe cranes $M_hisher neck to meet your eyes.<</if>><</if>>
“If you have any issues or need assistance, my office is on the first floor. Don’t hesitate to reach out through my email or Blackthorne’s GroupMe chat.”
“Thank you,” you say, trying to sound confident.
$M_name nods and slides the key in to unlock the door, giving you a quick glance. “Alright, this is your suite,” $M_heshe says, opening the door with a practiced motion.
The room is spacious and inviting. High ceilings and large windows give it an open and airy feel. You notice the rich, dark wood of the furniture and the subtle elegance of the decor. The suite is split into a living area with a comfortable leather sofa, a wall-mounted flatscreen TV, a glass dining table, and a tiny kitchenette occupying one corner. There is also just enough space for a microwave, a refrigerator, a mini-fridge, and a sink. Two oak bedroom doors face each other as you enter the small hallway attached to the common area.
The RA unlocks the door on the right adorned with a silver 2. You set your bags down as you enter and look around, taking in the details.
The room is painted white. A modestly sized area with a twin bed, a wooden desk, and a wardrobe. The windows are tall and narrow, letting in a soft, muted light from the north side that adds to the room’s minimalistic charm. The floors are covered in scarred ash wood, lending a sense of the place being well-loved and lived-in. From the heavy wooden beams overhead slanted like a garret’s to the faint, almost imperceptible scent of old books and polished wood, the history of the place seems to seep into every corner you lay your senses on.
You step completely into your newly assigned bedroom and sit on the bed, feeling the soft mattress support your weight. You can already picture yourself studying at the desk, reading by the window, maybe adding some lights or posters on the wall, and slowly making this space your own by adding your own personal touches.
“You’ll find your student handbook in your desk drawer,” $M_name informs you after letting you take it all in. “It has all the information you’ll need about the campus, the university, and the various resources available to you. Make sure to read it.”
You give $M_himher a nod to indicate that you heard $M_himher.
$M_name turns to leave but stops, giving you one last look. “Just remember to get to know your suitemate and set some ground rules. It’ll make things easier.”
“Have they arrived yet?” you ask, curious. “The common areas seemed pretty bare.”
$M_HeShe shakes $M_hisher head in answer. “As far as I know there are only four students, including you and I, who have arrived before the move-in day. They’ll most likely arrive the day after tomorrow so you’ll have the suite to yourself until then.”
*[[“Here's hoping that they aren’t weird,” you try to joke sarcastically.|Ch 2.15.1][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+4]]
*[[“Guess I’ll have the place to myself for a bit,” you chuckle, glancing around your new room.|Ch 2.15.2][$Introvert to Math.clamp($Introvert + 3, 0, 100), $Extrovert to Math.clamp($Extrovert - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+4]]
*[[“Thanks for the heads-up,” you say, trying to sound reassured. “I’ll make sure to get settled in before they show up.”|Ch 2.15.3][$Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+5]]
*[[“I’m sure they’ll be great,” you say with a touch of optimism. “I just hope they’re friendly.”|Ch 2.15.4][$Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist + 2, 0, 100), $Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist - 2, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+5]]
*[[“I’ll try not to make a mess before they get here,” you laugh, a bit nervously.|Ch 2.15.5][$Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious + 3, 0, 100), $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+4]]
*[[“I suppose it’s better to have some time alone,” you say, a hint of resignation in your voice.|Ch 2.15.6][$Extrovert to Math.clamp($Extrovert + 3, 0, 100), $Introvert to Math.clamp($Introvert - 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 2, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 2, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+4]]
*[[“I guess I’ll have to wait and see then,” you shrug. “At least I have a bit of time to adjust.”|Ch 2.15.7][$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+4]]
*[[“I suppose I can’t expect everyone to be the same,” you muse. “I’ll keep an open mind.”|Ch 2.15.8][$Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+4]]<<notify>>+ Sarcastic<</notify>>$M_name’s gaze softens, a wry smile tugging at $M_hisher lips. “Ah, the perennial hope of every freshman. Trust me, the quirks of your future roommates are nothing compared to the workloads you’ll receive in your classes.” $M_HeShe tilts $M_hisher head slightly, $M_hisher tone almost conspiratorial. “You should enjoy the quiet while it lasts.”
You frown before smiling. “Has anyone ever told you that sometimes you sound like Yoda when you give bits of advice?”
$M_HeShe rolls $M_hisher eyes with a small quirk of $M_hisher lips, a rare display of good-naturedness. “So I’ve heard.”
“Just saying,” you continue, leaning back on the bed, “if you ever need a side gig, you might want to consider voice acting. I’m sure they can adjust your pitch to match that of the old alien sage.”
“I’m afraid my schedule is full with managing a dorm building and studying towards getting a law degree,” $M_name replies drily.
You laugh lightly, the sound echoing in the mostly barren room. “Fair enough. It’s nice to see you crack a smile though, it seems like a rare sight.”
$M_HeShe gives a short, almost imperceptible nod. “Well, you can consider it limited edition. I’ll save the rest of my rare expressions for more pressing matters.”
You let out a snort at the rigidness of $M_hisher posture before nodding. “Noted. I’ll let you go back to your paperwork now. Thanks for everything.”
<<if $M_romance gte 1>>As $M_name is about to walk out, $M_heshe pauses and turns back towards you, a softer expression on $M_hisher face. “If you need anything—really, anything at all—don’t hesitate to let me know. I know it can get easy to feel overwhelmed when you’re new here.”
There’s something warm and genuine in $M_hisher voice that catches you off guard. Maybe it is just your imagination since $M_heshe has seemed nicer the more time you have spent talking to $M_himher, but it still takes you by surprise.
“Thanks,” you reply after finding the words to say. “That means a lot. I might just take you up on that offer.”
“You better,” $M_heshe says with $M_hisher posh drawl, lips tugged up in a teasing smile. “I don’t go around making offers like this to everyone.”
You blink in surprise before scrambling to reply at the turn of $M_hisher tone. “Oh yeah, sure, I will. And, uh, may the force be with you—or something along those lines.”
$M_name lets out a soft huff of amusement before shaking $M_hisher head and walking out, closing the door behind $M_himher gently.<<else>>$M_name pauses at the door as $M_heshe turns to leave again, $M_hisher umber gaze steady but slightly softened. “Good luck. And if you do happen to need help with anything—be it losing your dorm keys or just finding a decent cup of coffee—don’t hesitate to ask.”
You shoot $M_himher a grateful look. “Will do. And, uh, may the force be with you—or something like that.”
The RA lets out a soft huff of amusement before shaking $M_hisher head and walking out, closing the door behind $M_himher gently.<</if>>
As soon as you hear the door lock with an unmistakable <em>click!</em>, you flump down on the bed and rub your hands over your face. You had no idea what the future might hold for you, but you have to say that your first day at Yale went pretty well. All you could now hope for was that your good luck would continue in the upcoming months.
<<button "Next" "Ch 2.16">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 2.16]]*/<<notify>>+ Introvert<</notify>>$M_name allows $M_himself a rare, genuine smile, $M_hisher eyes crinkling at the corners. “A bit of solitude before the storm, then. It’s a luxury, really. Take this time to make the space yours.” $M_HeShe tilts $M_hisher head slightly, $M_hisher tone almost conspiratorial. “You should enjoy the quiet while it lasts.”
You frown before smiling. “Has anyone ever told you that sometimes you sound like Yoda when you give bits of advice?”
$M_HeShe rolls $M_hisher eyes with a small quirk of $M_hisher lips, a rare display of good-naturedness. “So I’ve heard.”
“Just saying,” you continue, leaning back on the bed, “if you ever need a side gig, you might want to consider voice acting. I’m sure they can adjust your pitch to match that of the old alien sage.”
“I’m afraid my schedule is full with managing a dorm building and studying towards getting a law degree,” $M_name replies drily.
You laugh lightly, the sound echoing in the mostly barren room. “Fair enough. It’s nice to see you crack a smile though, it seems like a rare sight.”
$M_HeShe gives a short, almost imperceptible nod. “Well, you can consider it limited edition. I’ll save the rest of my rare expressions for more pressing matters.”
You let out a snort at the rigidness of $M_hisher posture before nodding. “Noted. I’ll let you go back to your paperwork now. Thanks for everything.”
<<if $M_romance gte 1>>As $M_name is about to walk out, $M_heshe pauses and turns back towards you, a softer expression on $M_hisher face. “If you need anything—really, anything at all—don’t hesitate to let me know. I know it can get easy to feel overwhelmed when you’re new here.”
There’s something warm and genuine in $M_hisher voice that catches you off guard. Maybe it is just your imagination since $M_heshe has seemed nicer the more time you have spent talking to $M_himher, but it still takes you by surprise.
“Thanks,” you reply after finding the words to say. “That means a lot. I might just take you up on that offer.”
“You better,” $M_heshe says with $M_hisher posh drawl, lips tugged up in a teasing smile. “I don’t go around making offers like this to everyone.”
You blink in surprise before scrambling to reply at the turn of $M_hisher tone. “Oh yeah, sure, I will. And, uh, may the force be with you—or something along those lines.”
$M_name lets out a soft huff of amusement before shaking $M_hisher head and walking out, closing the door behind $M_himher gently.<<else>>$M_name pauses at the door as $M_heshe turns to leave again, $M_hisher umber gaze steady but slightly softened. “Good luck. And if you do happen to need help with anything—be it losing your dorm keys or just finding a decent cup of coffee—don’t hesitate to ask.”
You shoot $M_himher a grateful look. “Will do. And, uh, may the force be with you—or something like that.”
The RA lets out a soft huff of amusement before shaking $M_hisher head and walking out, closing the door behind $M_himher gently.<</if>>
As soon as you hear the door lock with an unmistakable <em>click!</em>, you flump down on the bed and rub your hands over your face. You had no idea what the future might hold for you, but you have to say that your first day at Yale went pretty well. All you could now hope for was that your good luck would continue in the upcoming months.
<<button "Next" "Ch 2.16">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 2.16]]*/<<notify>>+ Genuine<</notify>>$M_name’s expression shifts to one of mild approval. “That’s a sensible approach. Getting settled early will give you a head start on adjusting to your surroundings. There’s something about familiarizing yourself with your new environment that makes it easier when the rush of new faces begins.” $M_HeShe tilts $M_hisher head slightly, $M_hisher tone almost conspiratorial. “You should enjoy the quiet while it lasts.”
You frown before smiling. “Has anyone ever told you that sometimes you sound like Yoda when you give bits of advice?”
$M_HeShe rolls $M_hisher eyes with a small quirk of $M_hisher lips, a rare display of good-naturedness. “So I’ve heard.”
“Just saying,” you continue, leaning back on the bed, “if you ever need a side gig, you might want to consider voice acting. I’m sure they can adjust your pitch to match that of the old alien sage.”
“I’m afraid my schedule is full with managing a dorm building and studying towards getting a law degree,” $M_name replies drily.
You laugh lightly, the sound echoing in the mostly barren room. “Fair enough. It’s nice to see you crack a smile though, it seems like a rare sight.”
$M_HeShe gives a short, almost imperceptible nod. “Well, you can consider it limited edition. I’ll save the rest of my rare expressions for more pressing matters.”
You let out a snort at the rigidness of $M_hisher posture before nodding. “Noted. I’ll let you go back to your paperwork now. Thanks for everything.”
<<if $M_romance gte 1>>As $M_name is about to walk out, $M_heshe pauses and turns back towards you, a softer expression on $M_hisher face. “If you need anything—really, anything at all—don’t hesitate to let me know. I know it can get easy to feel overwhelmed when you’re new here.”
There’s something warm and genuine in $M_hisher voice that catches you off guard. Maybe it is just your imagination since $M_heshe has seemed nicer the more time you have spent talking to $M_himher, but it still takes you by surprise.
“Thanks,” you reply after finding the words to say. “That means a lot. I might just take you up on that offer.”
“You better,” $M_heshe says with $M_hisher posh drawl, lips tugged up in a teasing smile. “I don’t go around making offers like this to everyone.”
You blink in surprise before scrambling to reply at the turn of $M_hisher tone. “Oh yeah, sure, I will. And, uh, may the force be with you—or something along those lines.”
$M_name lets out a soft huff of amusement before shaking $M_hisher head and walking out, closing the door behind $M_himher gently.<<else>>$M_name pauses at the door as $M_heshe turns to leave again, $M_hisher umber gaze steady but slightly softened. “Good luck. And if you do happen to need help with anything—be it losing your dorm keys or just finding a decent cup of coffee—don’t hesitate to ask.”
You shoot $M_himher a grateful look. “Will do. And, uh, may the force be with you—or something like that.”
The RA lets out a soft huff of amusement before shaking $M_hisher head and walking out, closing the door behind $M_himher gently.<</if>>
As soon as you hear the door lock with an unmistakable <em>click!</em>, you flump down on the bed and rub your hands over your face. You had no idea what the future might hold for you, but you have to say that your first day at Yale went pretty well. All you could now hope for was that your good luck would continue in the upcoming months.
<<button "Next" "Ch 2.16">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 2.16]]*/<<notify>>+ Optimist, + Friendly<</notify>>$M_name regards you with a thoughtful look, as if weighing your optimism against the reality of situations like these. “Friendly, or at least tolerable. People are often more complex than we expect. Keep an open mind; you might find that the ones who seem the most confusing turn out to be the most intriguing.” $M_HeShe tilts $M_hisher head slightly, $M_hisher tone almost conspiratorial. “You should enjoy the quiet while it lasts.”
You frown before smiling. “Has anyone ever told you that sometimes you sound like Yoda when you give bits of advice?”
$M_HeShe rolls $M_hisher eyes with a small quirk of $M_hisher lips, a rare display of good-naturedness. “So I’ve heard.”
“Just saying,” you continue, leaning back on the bed, “if you ever need a side gig, you might want to consider voice acting. I’m sure they can adjust your pitch to match that of the old alien sage.”
“I’m afraid my schedule is full with managing a dorm building and studying towards getting a law degree,” $M_name replies drily.
You laugh lightly, the sound echoing in the mostly barren room. “Fair enough. It’s nice to see you crack a smile though, it seems like a rare sight.”
$M_HeShe gives a short, almost imperceptible nod. “Well, you can consider it limited edition. I’ll save the rest of my rare expressions for more pressing matters.”
You let out a snort at the rigidness of $M_hisher posture before nodding. “Noted. I’ll let you go back to your paperwork now. Thanks for everything.”
<<if $M_romance gte 1>>As $M_name is about to walk out, $M_heshe pauses and turns back towards you, a softer expression on $M_hisher face. “If you need anything—really, anything at all—don’t hesitate to let me know. I know it can get easy to feel overwhelmed when you’re new here.”
There’s something warm and genuine in $M_hisher voice that catches you off guard. Maybe it is just your imagination since $M_heshe has seemed nicer the more time you have spent talking to $M_himher, but it still takes you by surprise.
“Thanks,” you reply after finding the words to say. “That means a lot. I might just take you up on that offer.”
“You better,” $M_heshe says with $M_hisher posh drawl, lips tugged up in a teasing smile. “I don’t go around making offers like this to everyone.”
You blink in surprise before scrambling to reply at the turn of $M_hisher tone. “Oh yeah, sure, I will. And, uh, may the force be with you—or something along those lines.”
$M_name lets out a soft huff of amusement before shaking $M_hisher head and walking out, closing the door behind $M_himher gently.<<else>>$M_name pauses at the door as $M_heshe turns to leave again, $M_hisher umber gaze steady but slightly softened. “Good luck. And if you do happen to need help with anything—be it losing your dorm keys or just finding a decent cup of coffee—don’t hesitate to ask.”
You shoot $M_himher a grateful look. “Will do. And, uh, may the force be with you—or something like that.”
The RA lets out a soft huff of amusement before shaking $M_hisher head and walking out, closing the door behind $M_himher gently.<</if>>
As soon as you hear the door lock with an unmistakable <em>click!</em>, you flump down on the bed and rub your hands over your face. You had no idea what the future might hold for you, but you have to say that your first day at Yale went pretty well. All you could now hope for was that your good luck would continue in the upcoming months.
<<button "Next" "Ch 2.16">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 2.16]]*/<<notify>>+ Cautious<</notify>>$M_name’s lips curve into a faint, almost amused smile. “A bit of chaos is part of the process. Just remember that the real challenge is balancing your own habits with the collective rhythm of the people around you. Keep it reasonable, and it’ll all work out.” $M_HeShe tilts $M_hisher head slightly, $M_hisher tone almost conspiratorial. “You should enjoy the quiet while it lasts.”
You frown before smiling. “Has anyone ever told you that sometimes you sound like Yoda when you give bits of advice?”
$M_HeShe rolls $M_hisher eyes with a small quirk of $M_hisher lips, a rare display of good-naturedness. “So I’ve heard.”
“Just saying,” you continue, leaning back on the bed, “if you ever need a side gig, you might want to consider voice acting. I’m sure they can adjust your pitch to match that of the old alien sage.”
“I’m afraid my schedule is full with managing a dorm building and studying towards getting a law degree,” $M_name replies drily.
You laugh lightly, the sound echoing in the mostly barren room. “Fair enough. It’s nice to see you crack a smile though, it seems like a rare sight.”
$M_HeShe gives a short, almost imperceptible nod. “Well, you can consider it limited edition. I’ll save the rest of my rare expressions for more pressing matters.”
You let out a snort at the rigidness of $M_hisher posture before nodding. “Noted. I’ll let you go back to your paperwork now. Thanks for everything.”
<<if $M_romance gte 1>>As $M_name is about to walk out, $M_heshe pauses and turns back towards you, a softer expression on $M_hisher face. “If you need anything—really, anything at all—don’t hesitate to let me know. I know it can get easy to feel overwhelmed when you’re new here.”
There’s something warm and genuine in $M_hisher voice that catches you off guard. Maybe it is just your imagination since $M_heshe has seemed nicer the more time you have spent talking to $M_himher, but it still takes you by surprise.
“Thanks,” you reply after finding the words to say. “That means a lot. I might just take you up on that offer.”
“You better,” $M_heshe says with $M_hisher posh drawl, lips tugged up in a teasing smile. “I don’t go around making offers like this to everyone.”
You blink in surprise before scrambling to reply at the turn of $M_hisher tone. “Oh yeah, sure, I will. And, uh, may the force be with you—or something along those lines.”
$M_name lets out a soft huff of amusement before shaking $M_hisher head and walking out, closing the door behind $M_himher gently.<<else>>$M_name pauses at the door as $M_heshe turns to leave again, $M_hisher umber gaze steady but slightly softened. “Good luck. And if you do happen to need help with anything—be it losing your dorm keys or just finding a decent cup of coffee—don’t hesitate to ask.”
You shoot $M_himher a grateful look. “Will do. And, uh, may the force be with you—or something like that.”
The RA lets out a soft huff of amusement before shaking $M_hisher head and walking out, closing the door behind $M_himher gently.<</if>>
As soon as you hear the door lock with an unmistakable <em>click!</em>, you flump down on the bed and rub your hands over your face. You had no idea what the future might hold for you, but you have to say that your first day at Yale went pretty well. All you could now hope for was that your good luck would continue in the upcoming months.
<<button "Next" "Ch 2.16">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 2.16]]*/<<notify>>+ Extrovert, + Uptight<</notify>>$M_name’s gaze is contemplative, $M_hisher tone softening slightly. “Solitude has its own kind of poetry. It’s a double-edged sword. Both a blessing and a trial. It’s a chance to gather your thoughts, but it can also make the wait for others feel longer.” $M_HeShe tilts $M_hisher head slightly, $M_hisher tone almost conspiratorial. “You should enjoy the quiet while it lasts.”
You frown before smiling. “Has anyone ever told you that sometimes you sound like Yoda when you give bits of advice?”
$M_HeShe rolls $M_hisher eyes with a small quirk of $M_hisher lips, a rare display of good-naturedness. “So I’ve heard.”
“Just saying,” you continue, leaning back on the bed, “if you ever need a side gig, you might want to consider voice acting. I’m sure they can adjust your pitch to match that of the old alien sage.”
“I’m afraid my schedule is full with managing a dorm building and studying towards getting a law degree,” $M_name replies drily.
You laugh lightly, the sound echoing in the mostly barren room. “Fair enough. It’s nice to see you crack a smile though, it seems like a rare sight.”
$M_HeShe gives a short, almost imperceptible nod. “Well, you can consider it limited edition. I’ll save the rest of my rare expressions for more pressing matters.”
You let out a snort at the rigidness of $M_hisher posture before nodding. “Noted. I’ll let you go back to your paperwork now. Thanks for everything.”
<<if $M_romance gte 1>>As $M_name is about to walk out, $M_heshe pauses and turns back towards you, a softer expression on $M_hisher face. “If you need anything—really, anything at all—don’t hesitate to let me know. I know it can get easy to feel overwhelmed when you’re new here.”
There’s something warm and genuine in $M_hisher voice that catches you off guard. Maybe it is just your imagination since $M_heshe has seemed nicer the more time you have spent talking to $M_himher, but it still takes you by surprise.
“Thanks,” you reply after finding the words to say. “That means a lot. I might just take you up on that offer.”
“You better,” $M_heshe says with $M_hisher posh drawl, lips tugged up in a teasing smile. “I don’t go around making offers like this to everyone.”
You blink in surprise before scrambling to reply at the turn of $M_hisher tone. “Oh yeah, sure, I will. And, uh, may the force be with you—or something along those lines.”
$M_name lets out a soft huff of amusement before shaking $M_hisher head and walking out, closing the door behind $M_himher gently.<<else>>$M_name pauses at the door as $M_heshe turns to leave again, $M_hisher umber gaze steady but slightly softened. “Good luck. And if you do happen to need help with anything—be it losing your dorm keys or just finding a decent cup of coffee—don’t hesitate to ask.”
You shoot $M_himher a grateful look. “Will do. And, uh, may the force be with you—or something like that.”
The RA lets out a soft huff of amusement before shaking $M_hisher head and walking out, closing the door behind $M_himher gently.<</if>>
As soon as you hear the door lock with an unmistakable <em>click!</em>, you flump down on the bed and rub your hands over your face. You had no idea what the future might hold for you, but you have to say that your first day at Yale went pretty well. All you could now hope for was that your good luck would continue in the upcoming months.
<<button "Next" "Ch 2.16">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 2.16]]*/<<notify>>+ Arrogant<</notify>>$M_name nods, $M_hisher eyes reflecting a touch of understanding. “Exactly. This time is yours to mold as you see fit. The adjustments will come, and with them, the inevitable surprises. Solitude can become a rare commodity once your hallmates start arriving.” $M_HeShe tilts $M_hisher head slightly, $M_hisher tone almost conspiratorial. “You should enjoy the quiet while it lasts.”
You frown before smiling. “Has anyone ever told you that sometimes you sound like Yoda when you give bits of advice?”
$M_HeShe rolls $M_hisher eyes with a small quirk of $M_hisher lips, a rare display of good-naturedness. “So I’ve heard.”
“Just saying,” you continue, leaning back on the bed, “if you ever need a side gig, you might want to consider voice acting. I’m sure they can adjust your pitch to match that of the old alien sage.”
“I’m afraid my schedule is full with managing a dorm building and studying towards getting a law degree,” $M_name replies drily.
You laugh lightly, the sound echoing in the mostly barren room. “Fair enough. It’s nice to see you crack a smile though, it seems like a rare sight.”
$M_HeShe gives a short, almost imperceptible nod. “Well, you can consider it limited edition. I’ll save the rest of my rare expressions for more pressing matters.”
You let out a snort at the rigidness of $M_hisher posture before nodding. “Noted. I’ll let you go back to your paperwork now. Thanks for everything.”
<<if $M_romance gte 1>>As $M_name is about to walk out, $M_heshe pauses and turns back towards you, a softer expression on $M_hisher face. “If you need anything—really, anything at all—don’t hesitate to let me know. I know it can get easy to feel overwhelmed when you’re new here.”
There’s something warm and genuine in $M_hisher voice that catches you off guard. Maybe it is just your imagination since $M_heshe has seemed nicer the more time you have spent talking to $M_himher, but it still takes you by surprise.
“Thanks,” you reply after finding the words to say. “That means a lot. I might just take you up on that offer.”
“You better,” $M_heshe says with $M_hisher posh drawl, lips tugged up in a teasing smile. “I don’t go around making offers like this to everyone.”
You blink in surprise before scrambling to reply at the turn of $M_hisher tone. “Oh yeah, sure, I will. And, uh, may the force be with you—or something along those lines.”
$M_name lets out a soft huff of amusement before shaking $M_hisher head and walking out, closing the door behind $M_himher gently.<<else>>$M_name pauses at the door as $M_heshe turns to leave again, $M_hisher umber gaze steady but slightly softened. “Good luck. And if you do happen to need help with anything—be it losing your dorm keys or just finding a decent cup of coffee—don’t hesitate to ask.”
You shoot $M_himher a grateful look. “Will do. And, uh, may the force be with you—or something like that.”
The RA lets out a soft huff of amusement before shaking $M_hisher head and walking out, closing the door behind $M_himher gently.<</if>>
As soon as you hear the door lock with an unmistakable <em>click!</em>, you flump down on the bed and rub your hands over your face. You had no idea what the future might hold for you, but you have to say that your first day at Yale went pretty well. All you could now hope for was that your good luck would continue in the upcoming months.
<<button "Next" "Ch 2.16">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 2.16]]*/<<notify>>+ Humble<</notify>>$M_name’s expression shifts to one of quiet approval. “An open mind is a wise stance. Each person brings their own story, their own set of peculiarities. Embrace the differences; they often lead to the most unexpected connections.” $M_HeShe tilts $M_hisher head slightly, $M_hisher tone almost conspiratorial. “You should enjoy the quiet while it lasts.”
You frown before smiling. “Has anyone ever told you that sometimes you sound like Yoda when you give bits of advice?”
$M_HeShe rolls $M_hisher eyes with a small quirk of $M_hisher lips, a rare display of good-naturedness. “So I’ve heard.”
“Just saying,” you continue, leaning back on the bed, “if you ever need a side gig, you might want to consider voice acting. I’m sure they can adjust your pitch to match that of the old alien sage.”
“I’m afraid my schedule is full with managing a dorm building and studying towards getting a law degree,” $M_name replies drily.
You laugh lightly, the sound echoing in the mostly barren room. “Fair enough. It’s nice to see you crack a smile though, it seems like a rare sight.”
$M_HeShe gives a short, almost imperceptible nod. “Well, you can consider it limited edition. I’ll save the rest of my rare expressions for more pressing matters.”
You let out a snort at the rigidness of $M_hisher posture before nodding. “Noted. I’ll let you go back to your paperwork now. Thanks for everything.”
<<if $M_romance gte 1>>As $M_name is about to walk out, $M_heshe pauses and turns back towards you, a softer expression on $M_hisher face. “If you need anything—really, anything at all—don’t hesitate to let me know. I know it can get easy to feel overwhelmed when you’re new here.”
There’s something warm and genuine in $M_hisher voice that catches you off guard. Maybe it is just your imagination since $M_heshe has seemed nicer the more time you have spent talking to $M_himher, but it still takes you by surprise.
“Thanks,” you reply after finding the words to say. “That means a lot. I might just take you up on that offer.”
“You better,” $M_heshe says with $M_hisher posh drawl, lips tugged up in a teasing smile. “I don’t go around making offers like this to everyone.”
You blink in surprise before scrambling to reply at the turn of $M_hisher tone. “Oh yeah, sure, I will. And, uh, may the force be with you—or something along those lines.”
$M_name lets out a soft huff of amusement before shaking $M_hisher head and walking out, closing the door behind $M_himher gently.<<else>>$M_name pauses at the door as $M_heshe turns to leave again, $M_hisher umber gaze steady but slightly softened. “Good luck. And if you do happen to need help with anything—be it losing your dorm keys or just finding a decent cup of coffee—don’t hesitate to ask.”
You shoot $M_himher a grateful look. “Will do. And, uh, may the force be with you—or something like that.”
The RA lets out a soft huff of amusement before shaking $M_hisher head and walking out, closing the door behind $M_himher gently.<</if>>
As soon as you hear the door lock with an unmistakable <em>click!</em>, you flump down on the bed and rub your hands over your face. You had no idea what the future might hold for you, but you have to say that your first day at Yale went pretty well. All you could now hope for was that your good luck would continue in the upcoming months.
<<button "Next" "Ch 2.16">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 2.16]]*/Summer was close to its end, and with it came the move-in day. The period between is a blur of settling in, brief interactions with the few early arrivals on your floor, and trying not to lose your way around the spiraling halls of Blackthorne.
On your first morning, after unpacking the essentials, you set out to find the dining hall for breakfast as you had ended up ordering your dinner from an off-campus restaurant before falling asleep last night. It was hidden in a far corner of the building, past a set of heavy, ornately carved double doors that seemed reluctant to open.
When you managed to shove them open, the sight was beautiful. The dining room was an old-world space with tall, arched windows welcoming sunlight into the warm sanctum that afternoon. The lovely swirls and scrolls of the dark wood panels glistened with light, dancing like patterns of sun-spotted parties. The tables, long in size, curved down a horseshoe formation throughout the room with chairs placed perfectly in rows as if they were set up by some military personnel. At the other end loomed a huge hearth, its stone surround carved with the Blackthorne Hall viper crest as if it was marking centuries of wrapping itself in solemn tradition.
The common areas became your sanctuary. On the first floor, the lounge, with its plush armchairs and faded Persian rugs, offered a cozy retreat you desperately needed. You spent hours curled up with a book, the ticking of a grandfather clock and the faint rustle of your movements the only sounds in the room. The blend of old and new—antique furniture juxtaposed with high-end stereos and TV—created a sense of timelessness. A grand piano stood in one corner, its keys pristine and beckoning. <<if $Piano is true>>(But you resisted the urge to play, not wanting to break the spell of tranquility.)<</if>>
Occasionally, you would catch sight of $M_name. Always on the move, as busy as ever. Whenever you tried to catch $M_hisher eye, someone else would come between your line of sight to whisk $M_himher away towards one task or the other. It seemed like the universe was adamant about keeping you by your lonesome until the arrival of your suitemate.
On the morning of the move-in day, you…
*[[…wake up earlier than the alarm you set, as usual.|Ch 2.17]]
*[[…wake up reluctantly, hitting the snooze button on your alarm a few times.|Ch 2.17]]
*[[…wake up to the alarm you set, feeling groggy and disoriented.|Ch 2.17]]
*[[…groan and contemplate throwing your phone before getting up.|Ch 2.17]]
*[[…sleep through the alarm for an hour more.|Ch 2.17]]
The air is cool when you open the window, the remnants of the night lingering. You take a breath of fresh air, psyching yourself up for the day ahead before heading towards the suite. You ponder on making some breakfast but remember the lack of ingredients for basically anything. Instead of that, you fix yourself some Breakfast à la $MC_favoritedrink.
Deciding to finally take a look at the student handbook $M_name mentioned, you walk over to the desk and pull open the drawer. The old wood creaks slightly, resisting the motion. Assuming that it is locked, you grab the set of keys that $M_heshe gave you and try to find the correct one. You give yourself a mental pat on the back when you succeed and open the drawer free.
Inside, you find the handbook, a neatly bound Yale Blue volume with the university's crest embossed in white on the cover. But what really catches your eye is the envelope beneath it.
The paper is thick and has the texture of old parchment. Unlike modern wood pulp papers, the material used in it looks and feels like papyrus instead. An elegant calligraphy spells out your name across the front and upon turning it, you find that the seal is engraved with the design of a snake wrapped in and around a skull.
*[[Whoever sent you this must be bougie as fuck if they can afford all this. |Ch 2.18][$Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 5, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 5, 0, 100), $option to 1]]
*[[It’s not even been a week and you’re already being pranked. Lucky you. |Ch 2.18][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 5, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 5, 0, 100), $option to 2]]
*[[Curiosity killed the cat, right? Well, you hope it doesn’t kill you.|Ch 2.18][$Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 5, 0, 100), $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 5, 0, 100), $option to 3]]
*[[Your intuition says this does not look good at all.|Ch 2.18][$Intuitive to Math.clamp($Intuitive + 5, 0, 100), $Strategic to Math.clamp($Strategic - 5, 0, 100), $option to 4]]
*[[You’d rather not draw attention to yourself, especially not like this.|Ch 2.18][$Introvert to Math.clamp($Introvert + 5, 0, 100), $Extrovert to Math.clamp($Extrovert - 5, 0, 100), $option to 5]]
*[[This seems like it’s just the beginning of a series of problems.|Ch 2.18][$Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist + 5, 0, 100), $Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist - 5, 0, 100), $option to 6]]
*[[You hesitate, wondering if this is some kind of test or initiation for new Blackthorne residents.|Ch 2.18][$Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious + 5, 0, 100), $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive - 5, 0, 100), $option to 7]]<<if $option is 1>><<notify>>+ Laidback<</notify>><<elseif $option is 2>><<notify>>+ Sarcastic<</notify>><<elseif $option is 3>><<notify>>+ Impulsive<</notify>><<elseif $option is 4>><<notify>>+ Intuitive<</notify>><<elseif $option is 5>><<notify>>+ Introvert<</notify>><<elseif $option is 6>><<notify>>+ Pessimist<</notify>><<elseif $option is 7>><<notify>>+ Cautious<</notify>><</if>><<unset $option>>You lift it out carefully, a tinge of apprehension circling your mind. Breaking the seal, you unfold the letter within, the ink dark and precise against the heavy parchment.
<div id="archonletter">Dear $MC_firstname $MC_middlename $MC_surname,
You have been selected for an honor bestowed upon only a few. We, the House of Styx, extend our hand to you. A confluence of attributes, both manifest and latent, has marked you for a path beyond the ordinary. Your presence has not gone unnoticed, and it is with great pleasure that we invite you to join our ranks.
Our society is a nexus of minds attuned to the subterranean currents of reality. We offer you a chance to become part of something greater, to become someone that could not have been possible even in your wildest dreams, and to forge bonds that will transcend mortality itself.
In the span of Yale's long-standing history, we have grown and thrived in the shadows. We are the keepers of secrets, the bearers of ancient knowledge, and the guardians of a legacy that goes beyond the reality that you are aware of. If you believe that you possess the courage to question the unquestionable, the intellect to discern patterns in chaos, and the soul to endure the weight of forbidden truths, then this invitation is a summons. You will know what happens when the time is appropriate.
But beware, silence is the first commandment. We see all, and, therefore, know all. Indulge your curiosity at your own grave peril.
With utmost regards,
The Archon,
House of Styx</div>
<<link '(Read in Merriweather)'>><<set $letter to "HoS invite">><<script>>
Dialog.setup("Archon's Invitation");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Letters").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</link>>
<<link '(Read in Open Dyslexic)'>><<set $letter to "HoS invite dyslexic">><<script>>
Dialog.setup("Archon's Invitation");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Letters").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</link>>
<<button "Next" "Ch 2.19">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 2.19]]*/You stare at the letter, the words sinking in slowly. A mix of disbelief and curiosity churns within you uncomfortably.
‘Who would go to all this trouble for a prank?’ you think, but the weight of the parchment and the meticulous calligraphy argue otherwise. Your eyes pore over every detail of the letter, from the cursive alphabets to the stray ink blotches left on some parts of the paper.
You glance around your room, your eyes landing on the student handbook again. The normalcy of it contrasts sharply with the strange, almost fantastical nature of the letter in your hands. Then there was also the question about who went through the trouble of putting the letter in your drawer. You could ask $M_name about it, but $M_heshe didn’t seem to be the type who would stoop to skulking around in random students’ rooms to deliver a letter in their drawer. But then again, $M_heshe was the only person you knew who had the key to the room assigned to you.
The invitation feels heavy in your hands, its allure almost demanding a response. You don’t exactly know why, but you have a terrible gut feeling that it wouldn’t end well for you or the people around you if anyone found out about it. The letter practically seemed to follow you as soon as you had read over the words it contained. The ominous warning at the end doesn’t help your case either.
You place the letter back in the drawer, your fingers lingering on the rough paper for a moment before closing it. The student handbook lies atop, waiting to be perused, but your thoughts are already running several miles a minute. Classes haven’t even started yet and your life seems to be throwing another curveball at you.
Just as you’re deciding on what to do to distract yourself, you hear a scuffling outside your door. There is a thump of something heavy, followed by a muffled curse that sounds vaguely Scandinavian.
*<<link '<em>“Fandme!”</em> you hear a masculine voice curse.' "Ch 2.20">><<set $V_name to "Vance"; $V_middle to "Kasper"; $V_nickname to "Vanny"; $V_gender to "male"; $V_person to "man"; $V_Mr to "Mr"; $V_HeShe to "He"; $V_heshe to "he"; $V_HimHer to "Him"; $V_himher to "him"; $V_HisHer to "His"; $V_hisher to "his"; $V_HisHers to "His"; $V_hishers to "his"; $V_Himself to "Himself"; $V_himself to "himself">><</link>>
*<<link '<em>“Fandme!”</em> you hear a feminine voice curse.' "Ch 2.20">><<set $V_name to "Vanessa"; $V_middle to "Karina"; $V_nickname to "Nessa"; $V_gender to "female"; $V_person to "woman"; $V_Mr to "Ms"; $V_HeShe to "She"; $V_heshe to "she"; $V_HimHer to "Her"; $V_himher to "her"; $V_HisHer to "Her"; $V_hisher to "her"; $V_HisHers to "Hers"; $V_hishers to "hers"; $V_Himself to "Herself"; $V_himself to "herself">><</link>>
/*[[Ch 2.20]]*/Curious and slightly apprehensive, you open the door to find a disheveled figure struggling with three large suitcases and two cardboard boxes. $V_HeShe is tall, with soft, slightly angular features and an air of frazzled exhaustion. $V_HisHer curly black hair is tousled, and $V_hisher clothes are a mix of dark academia and boho style. Every single part of $V_himher screamed about a long journey to get to the university.
“Need some help?" you offer tentatively, stepping into the hallway.
$V_HeShe looks up, deep brown eyes meeting yours with a mix of frustration and relief. From this close up, you notice a little vertical scar on the left side of $V_hisher chin, its pale shade standing out against $V_hisher warm, brown skin with a slight bronze tone underneath.
$V_HeShe wears a fitted, charcoal-grey vest over a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to $V_hisher elbows. $V_HisHer pants are a deep maroon, slightly loose but cinched at the waist with a weathered leather belt. A Gucci patterned scarf is casually draped around $V_hisher neck, adding a touch of snazzy bohemian flair, and $V_hisher shoes are worn leather brogues that have clearly seen better days.
“Yes, ple—” $V_heshe starts before pausing.
<<button "Next" "Ch 2.21">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 2.21]]*/<<notify>>Saved!<</notify>>You frown and before you can ask if $V_heshe is alright, $V_hisher eyes start widening in apparent terror. $V_HeShe mutters something under $V_hisher breath, words you can only recognize as something in Latin but it was too low for you to make out the words properly. $V_HisHer body tenses, and before you know it, $V_heshe is lunging towards you, $V_hisher hands outstretched as if trying to grasp something only $V_heshe can see.
<<link '<em>“Adjuro te, serpens antique, per Judicem vivorum et mortuorum, per Factorem tuum, per Factorem mundi, per eum qui habet potestatem mittendi te in gehennam, ut ab hoc famulo Dei recedas!"</em>'>><<set $Vtext to 1>><<script>>
Dialog.setup("Translation");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("V Translations").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</link>> $V_HeShe shouts, the Latin flowing through $V_hisher fearful and frantic voice like it’s second nature. You barely have time to react, stumbling to the ground as $V_heshe grabs your arm with surprising strength. Panic surges through you as you struggle to free yourself from $V_hisher grip.
“Stop! What the fuck is wrong with you?” you cry out, trying to get $V_himher off of you.
$V_HisHer eyes are wild, unfocused, and it’s clear $V_heshe’s not fully aware of what $V_heshe’s doing. $V_HeShe tightens $V_hisher hold, fingers digging into your skin painfully. <<link '<em>“Imperat tibi Deus Pater; imperat tibi Deus Filius; imperat tibi Deus Spiritus Sanctus; imperat tibi majestas Christi, aeterna Dei Verbum caro factum."</em>'>><<set $Vtext to 2>><<script>>
Dialog.setup("Translation");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("V Translations").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</link>>
A silver cross dangles from $V_hisher neck, brushing against your face and leaving a burning trail where it touches you. Before you can let out a surprised yell, $V_hisher hands find your neck, the pressure increasing with each passing second.
In a desperate move, you kick out, aiming for $V_hisher shin. $V_HeShe grunts in pain, $V_hisher grip loosening just enough for you to get up and slip away. But it seems like things seem to only get worse as in your haste to put as much distance between the two of you, you forget about the table that blocks your way.
Your back collides with the edge of the table, making you stumble backward. The sudden force it receives makes the antique glass shatter, causing your back to soon meet the wood and glass shards on the floor, sending a jolt of pain up your spine. The back of your head doesn’t fare much better as you feel a bump forming there and your vision swims before darkening rapidly.
All you can focus on is a pair of hurried footsteps coming towards you and a string of panicked apologies before there is a bang of a door being opened and an angry “$V_name! Wha–”
And then, you drift off to the land of dreams.
<<button "Next Chapter" "Ch 3.1">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.1]]*/<<if $Vtext is 1>>“I adjure you, ancient serpent, by the Judge of the living and the dead, by your Creator, by the Creator of the world, by Him who has the power to cast you into hell, to depart from this servant of God."
<<elseif $Vtext is 2>>“God the Father commands you; God the Son commands you; God the Holy Spirit commands you; the majesty of Christ, the eternal Word of God made flesh, commands you."
<</if>><<if $letter is "prologue">><h2>''October, 2005''</h2>Freddie died yesterday. There was no body to be buried. No funeral to plan.
They’re planning to go for a search, and while I highly doubt it’d do us any good, I want to be there. If not for Freddie himself then for Jane. They were expecting a child in eight months. He would’ve made a wonderful father. But as luck would have it, we won’t be able to see it happen.
Jane is inconsolable, of course. She blames Calum for his shoddy spellwork on Freddie’s protective ward, and I have no doubt he’ll face Dean Windsor's wrath when he arrives. Good riddance. No wonder the other Oracles don’t want to associate with him.
Truthfully, <em>mī cōnsiliārie</em>, I am tired. Dreadfully so. When I joined the House, everything seemed so tantalizing and exciting to me. How could it not? A whole new world was opened to me. It was more than I could’ve ever hoped for in my dull and dreary routine of studying, reading, and mooching up to the professors. But now that I’ve been here for two years, the only thing I can feel for these people is anger and contempt.
I’ve realized that in my ambition to be among the big names, I have sacrificed what made me human. I have done everything they’ve asked of me so far. But each of those tasks fulfilled is now weighing me down like an albatross around my neck.
My soul is damned, my body a bargaining piece. And even after all of that, I have nothing to show for it.
There is an itch in my skin that I just can’t scratch when I think of the House and the vipers who disguise their greed with altruistic promises. It took me two years to finally find the Machiavellian intentions buried deep within almost everyone there. So ironic for me to be blinded by my vocation to see through it all.
And what do you know, they’re already planning to choose Freddie’s replacement. I hadn’t been wrong about the ‘search’ being just another ruse to repress the unease that is brewing among the Cohorts and Centurions. To add insult to injury, they expect me to be the one who trains them while the Archon does who knows what. They expect me to obey, to be a puppet who mindlessly follows their damning instructions.
I refuse. I am no one’s pawn or muse, I am the owner of my soul until I have to pay my dues. And until then, I will defy with every fiber of my being.
Jane has already lost the love of her life, she will not be losing her soul sister as well. I have already talked to Hades and he thinks it’s the most sensible decision. But, mī cōnsiliārie, he worries so much with his bleeding heart on his sleeves. He tells me we can run away and hide, even bring Jane with us if she and I so desire. A secluded Dutch manor in the middle of nowhere.
My darling knight, so valiant and eager to shield me from anything that might harm me. Often to his own detriment. Many take his kindness for weakness. They say his soft heart is his greatest hubris. Perhaps it is mine too by extension, as he is my weakness.
It is quite endearing how he tries to keep the diamond ring a secret, yet he realizes not that Jane has the unfortunate knack of never being able to keep a secret from me. I shall let it slide just to see his handsome face light up. If I were a more delicate woman, I would’ve shed tears over the family heirloom he plans to present to me as a promise of his lifelong devotion. As fate has it, all I can do now is try to stop the swell of my hopelessly lovestruck heart whenever he is near me.
The stars are in full brightness today. The sky is littered with them. If there’s anything constant to be admired here in this godforsaken city, it’s this view. I wish you could be seeing this with me right now, <em>mī cōnsiliārie</em>, it is beautiful.
I miss my home. I miss my parents. I miss my baby brother.
I may as well never see them again as things are about to be very different. Truth be told, I have no idea if I’ll even be able to follow through with my convictions. My bravado and anger aside, I am but a cog in their grand machine. Fixable, but also replaceable. But I am sick of the vipers who have coiled their tails around me. I am ready to wash my hands of their venom and the House, forever.
And to Frederick Lochlan: Forgive me for all the promises I failed to keep, but most of all for the ones I dared to make to you in the first place.
<h2>With warmth and love,
Persephone</h2><<elseif $letter is "prologue dyslexic">><div id="letterpopupdyslexic"><h2>''October, 2005''</h2>Freddie died yesterday. There was no body to be buried. No funeral to plan.
They’re planning to go for a search, and while I highly doubt it’d do us any good, I want to be there. If not for Freddie himself then for Jane. They were expecting a child in eight months. He would’ve made a wonderful father. But as luck would have it, we won’t be able to see it happen.
Jane is inconsolable, of course. She blames Calum for his shoddy spellwork on Freddie’s protective ward, and I have no doubt he’ll face Dean Windsor's wrath when he arrives. Good riddance. No wonder the other Oracles don’t want to associate with him.
Truthfully, <em>mī cōnsiliārie</em>, I am tired. Dreadfully so. When I joined the House, everything seemed so tantalizing and exciting to me. How could it not? A whole new world was opened to me. It was more than I could’ve ever hoped for in my dull and dreary routine of studying, reading, and mooching up to the professors. But now that I’ve been here for two years, the only thing I can feel for these people is anger and contempt.
I’ve realized that in my ambition to be among the big names, I have sacrificed what made me human. I have done everything they’ve asked of me so far. But each of those tasks fulfilled is now weighing me down like an albatross around my neck.
My soul is damned, my body a bargaining piece. And even after all of that, I have nothing to show for it.
There is an itch in my skin that I just can’t scratch when I think of the House and the vipers who disguise their greed with altruistic promises. It took me two years to finally find the Machiavellian intentions buried deep within almost everyone there. So ironic for me to be blinded by my vocation to see through it all.
And what do you know, they’re already planning to choose Freddie’s replacement. I hadn’t been wrong about the ‘search’ being just another ruse to repress the unease that is brewing among the Cohorts and Centurions. To add insult to injury, they expect me to be the one who trains them while the Archon does who knows what. They expect me to obey, to be a puppet who mindlessly follows their damning instructions.
I refuse. I am no one’s pawn or muse, I am the owner of my soul until I have to pay my dues. And until then, I will defy with every fiber of my being.
Jane has already lost the love of her life, she will not be losing her soul sister as well. I have already talked to Hades and he thinks it’s the most sensible decision. But, mī cōnsiliārie, he worries so much with his bleeding heart on his sleeves. He tells me we can run away and hide, even bring Jane with us if she and I so desire. A secluded Dutch manor in the middle of nowhere.
My darling knight, so valiant and eager to shield me from anything that might harm me. Often to his own detriment. Many take his kindness for weakness. They say his soft heart is his greatest hubris. Perhaps it is mine too by extension, as he is my weakness.
It is quite endearing how he tries to keep the diamond ring a secret, yet he realizes not that Jane has the unfortunate knack of never being able to keep a secret from me. I shall let it slide just to see his handsome face light up. If I were a more delicate woman, I would’ve shed tears over the family heirloom he plans to present to me as a promise of his lifelong devotion. As fate has it, all I can do now is try to stop the swell of my hopelessly lovestruck heart whenever he is near me.
The stars are in full brightness today. The sky is littered with them. If there’s anything constant to be admired here in this godforsaken city, it’s this view. I wish you could be seeing this with me right now, <em>mī cōnsiliārie</em>, it is beautiful.
I miss my home. I miss my parents. I miss my baby brother.
I may as well never see them again as things are about to be very different. Truth be told, I have no idea if I’ll even be able to follow through with my convictions. My bravado and anger aside, I am but a cog in their grand machine. Fixable, but also replaceable. But I am sick of the vipers who have coiled their tails around me. I am ready to wash my hands of their venom and the House, forever.
And to Frederick Lochlan: Forgive me for all the promises I failed to keep, but most of all for the ones I dared to make to you in the first place.
<h2>With warmth and love,
Persephone</h2></div><<elseif $letter is "HoS invite">><h2>Dear $MC_firstname $MC_middlename $MC_surname,</h2>You have been selected for an honor bestowed upon only a few. We, the House of Styx, extend our hand to you. A confluence of attributes, both manifest and latent, has marked you for a path beyond the ordinary. Your presence has not gone unnoticed, and it is with great pleasure that we invite you to join our ranks.
Our society is a nexus of minds attuned to the subterranean currents of reality. We offer you a chance to become part of something greater, to become someone that could not have been possible even in your wildest dreams, and to forge bonds that will transcend mortality itself.
In the span of Yale's long-standing history, we have grown and thrived in the shadows. We are the keepers of secrets, the bearers of ancient knowledge, and the guardians of a legacy that goes beyond the reality that you are aware of. If you believe that you possess the courage to question the unquestionable, the intellect to discern patterns in chaos, and the soul to endure the weight of forbidden truths, then this invitation is a summons. You will know what happens when the time is appropriate.
But beware, silence is the first commandment. We see all, and, therefore, know all. Indulge your curiosity at your own grave peril.
<h2>With utmost regards,
The Archon,
House of Styx</h2><<elseif $letter is "HoS invite dyslexic">><div id="letterpopupdyslexic"><h2>Dear $MC_firstname $MC_middlename $MC_surname,</h2>You have been selected for an honor bestowed upon only a few. We, the House of Styx, extend our hand to you. A confluence of attributes, both manifest and latent, has marked you for a path beyond the ordinary. Your presence has not gone unnoticed, and it is with great pleasure that we invite you to join our ranks.
Our society is a nexus of minds attuned to the subterranean currents of reality. We offer you a chance to become part of something greater, to become someone that could not have been possible even in your wildest dreams, and to forge bonds that will transcend mortality itself.
In the span of Yale's long-standing history, we have grown and thrived in the shadows. We are the keepers of secrets, the bearers of ancient knowledge, and the guardians of a legacy that goes beyond the reality that you are aware of. If you believe that you possess the courage to question the unquestionable, the intellect to discern patterns in chaos, and the soul to endure the weight of forbidden truths, then this invitation is a summons. You will know what happens when the time is appropriate.
But beware, silence is the first commandment. We see all, and, therefore, know all. Indulge your curiosity at your own grave peril.
<h2>With utmost regards,
The Archon,
House of Styx</h2></div>
<</if>>/* custom widgets go in here */
<<widget "are">><<switch $plural>><<case true>>are<<case false>>is<</switch>><</widget>>
<<widget "were">><<switch $plural>><<case true>>were<<case false>>was<</switch>><</widget>>
<<widget "s">><<switch $plural>><<case true>><<case false>>s<</switch>><</widget>>
<<widget "es">><<switch $plural>><<case true>><<case false>>es<</switch>><</widget>>
<<widget "ies">><<switch $plural>><<case true>>y<<case false>>ies<</switch>><</widget>>
<<widget "re">><<switch $plural>><<case true>>re<<case false>>s<</switch>><</widget>>
<<widget "ve">><<switch $plural>><<case true>>ve<<case false>>s<</switch>><</widget>>
“One second $heshe <<were>> in front of me, the next thing I know, $heshe <<were>> sprawled over the floor after crashing into the glass table.
<<set $roll to random(1,100)>>
$roll
<<if $roll%2 is 0>>Even<<else>>Odd<</if>>
<<set $MC_firstname to "Cerviel">>
<<set $MC_firstnameinitial to $MC_firstname.first()>>
name: $MC_firstname
initial: $MC_firstnameinitial
<strong>nineplustenistwentyone</strong>: if i see that one dude dressed in his temu trisha paytas shower curtains again i’m walking out 👋🚶♀️➡️
<div style="text-indent: 2em;">| <strong>emocootereater</strong>: gurl i’ll be calling campus security</div>
<strike>hello</strike><<set $chapter to "Chapter Three">><h1>ཫ CHAPTER THREE ཀ</h1>
!!𓆙 seriem eventuum infelcium 𓆙
You came to in fleeting moments, between dreams of darkness and monstrous hands wrapped around your throat.
The first time your eyes fluttered open, you saw a white-plastered ceiling above you, until the view was obstructed by a blurry, vaguely familiar face with dark eyes.
“What did you do to $himher exactly?” An unclear but recognizable voice asked grimly, matching the movement of the lips of the face above you.
“I’m sorry, I really don’t know what came over me.” Another familiar voice answered, but you couldn’t see the person who was speaking. “One second $heshe <<were>> in front of me, the next thing I know, $heshe <<were>> sprawled over the floor after crashing into the glass table.”
You couldn’t even open your mouth to speak. Exhaustion snatched you back into the land of bad dreams.
The second time you drifted back to consciousness, it was like surfacing from deep water. Your head throbbed with a dull ache, the disjointed conversations from earlier swirling through your mind like fragments of a fever dream. Everything felt heavy—your limbs, your thoughts—and the sharp pain radiating from your back made it impossible to forget the events that had just unfolded.
Slowly, you became aware of the cool sensation beneath you, soft fabric cradling your body. You were in your bed. The sheets felt clean, though they carried the unmistakable scent of lavender. For a split second, you thought you were back home before your eyes landed on the barren white paint on the walls around you.
A low murmur of voices reached your ears, distant but clear enough to make out the anxious edge in their tones from the other side of the door. You eventually recognized them as $M_name’s and $V_name’s.
A look outside the window and the sounds of birds chirping enthusiastically gave you the idea that it was now morning. Sitting up was a tiring ordeal, your limbs seemingly replaced with lead overnight which made your movements sluggish and painful. Your body protested every small movement, the bruises on your back making each shift of weight feel like you were pushing against shards of glass still embedded in your skin. But you had to get up. You needed answers—needed to know what the hell had happened, why $V_name had lost control like that, why $V_heshe looked at you like $V_heshe had completely lost $V_hisher marbles.
Pulling yourself out of bed felt like wading through molasses. Every breath came with an ache, and your head swam with the remnants of confusion. You managed to sit upright, hands gripping the edge of the bed as you took a few steadying breaths.
The events replayed in flashes—$V_name’s wild, terrified eyes, the Latin pouring from $V_hisher lips like a frantic prayer, the hot press of the metal cross against your skin. And then the crash, the blinding pain, and the world slipping away into a hazy nightmare.
You forced yourself to stand, ignoring the way your legs shook beneath you. Each step was an effort, but you made it to the door, hesitating just for a moment before turning the knob and stepping into the hallway.
The two were standing by the window, their voices hushed but intense. $V_name’s back was turned to you, $V_hisher shoulders hunched as if weighed down by the invisible burden of guilt. $M_name was facing $V_himher, arms crossed, umber brown eyes narrowed in a mixture of concern and restrained anger.
“You’d be lucky if $heshe even wake<<s>> up today.” $M_name was saying, $M_hisher voice low but sharp. “You did a number on $himher and I won’t be surprised if $heshe sue<<s>> you.”
$V_name shook $V_hisher head, hands buried in $V_hisher hair, tugging at the curls in frustration. “You don’t understand! I wasn’t thinking… I just… I saw something, I don’t even know. It wasn’t $himher, it was… something else. It was like—like there was a shadow over $himher, like—”
$M_name cut $V_himher off with a hissed breath, glancing up as $M_heshe caught sight of you standing in the doorway.
“You’re awake,” $M_heshe said, voice softening just slightly. $V_name tensed at the words, turning around slowly to face you. $V_HisHer eyes were wide, filled with a mixture of panic and regret, $V_hisher hands trembling at $V_hisher sides.
For a moment, no one spoke. The weight of the silence pressed down on you like a heavy, suffocating blanket, the tension crackling in the air between you and your new suitemate.
“I’m sorry,” $V_name whispered, $V_hisher voice barely audible, cracking at the edges. “I—I don’t know what came over me. I thought—” $V_hisher eyes darted to the floor, unable to meet your gaze. “I’m just really sorry.”
$M_name sighed from beside $V_himher. “I’m not one to talk about other people’s business, but this is a serious safety issue. $V_name here is schizophrenic and you were unlucky enough to be caught up in one of their episodes while their medications ran out.”
$V_name frowned like $V_heshe didn’t quite agree that that was all but kept quiet as $M_heshe continued. “We’ve arranged a restock of $V_hisher medication and $V_heshe has promised to keep an eye on that from now on,” $M_name accompanied these words with a glare aimed at your suitemate, “right?”
$V_name nodded, swallowing hard before answering in a voice that barely rose above a whisper. “Right."
*[[“Hold up, are you serious? You can’t possibly leave me alone with someone who tried to murder me!”|Ch 3.2.1][$Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious + 3, 0, 100), $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+1, $V_friendship to $V_friendship+1]]
*[[“Oh sure, no big deal. Nearly getting strangled is just how I like to meet new people.”|Ch 3.2.2][$Sarcasm to Math.clamp($Sarcasm + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+1, $V_friendship to $V_friendship+1]]
*[[“You’re so lucky I’m still standing. My father would sue you to oblivion if he heard about this.”|Ch 3.2.3][$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+1, $V_friendship to $V_friendship+1]]
*[[“I’m fine, really. Just glad no one got seriously hurt.”|Ch 3.2.4][$Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+5, $V_friendship to $V_friendship+5]]
*[[“It’s alright. Just get your meds sorted, and we’ll move on. No need to overcomplicate things.”|Ch 3.2.5][$Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+5, $V_friendship to $V_friendship+5]]
*[[“This might be a rocky way to meet, but it can only go up from here, right?”|Ch 3.2.6][$Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist + 3, 0, 100), $Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+5, $V_friendship to $V_friendship+5]]
<<notify>>+ Cautious<</notify>>The words left your mouth before you could fully think them through, your voice sharp with disbelief. You took a step back, instinctively distancing yourself from the two of them, your pulse still pounding in your ears.
“I—I didn’t try to murder you!” $V_name stammered, $V_hisher eyes widening with a fresh wave of panic. “I swear, I wasn’t myself. I didn’t mean to hurt you…”
$M_name glanced at you, an eyebrow arching in exasperation. “Look, $MC_firstname, I get that you’re upset, and rightfully so, but let’s all calm down. $V_name wasn’t in $V_hisher right mind.”
“Right mind or not, I could’ve died,” you snapped back, your voice rising as the residual fear bubbles up, mixing with anger. “And now I’m supposed to just trust that it won’t happen again?”
$M_name crossed $M_hisher arms, standing $M_hisher ground. “No one’s asking you to trust $V_himher blindly. But you need to understand that accidents happen, and $V_hisher conscience has been through enough already. $V_HeShe made a mistake and it won’t happen again. I swear this in all my honor.”
You took a deep breath, trying to rein in the frustration still boiling inside you. “$M_name, you’re an RA, right? Is there any way I can change suitemates?”
$M_HeShe let out a slow sigh, $M_hisher eyes flicking between you and $V_name. “I figured you might ask that.”
You crossed your arms, feeling the tension in your chest tighten. “And? Is it possible?”
“I’m gonna be straight with you and tell you exactly what I told $V_name,” $M_name said, leaning back against the wall. “It’s not up to me. I can’t just move people around. Housing assignments come from above, and we’ve already got everyone paired and settled in. Even the dean can’t do anything about it now.”
$V_name winced, $V_hisher shoulders slumping further. You could feel their guilt radiating from across the room, but you were too angry to care at the moment.
“So you’re telling me I’m stuck with someone who—” You bit back the words that threatened to spill out, pulse quickening again. “Who did this? Just like that?”
“I’m telling you that the system’s more complicated than just swapping rooms in the beginning of the semester because of this. The higher-ups are just going to take it as two freshmen having a fight at the start of them moving into their shared suite,” $M_name met your gaze squarely, $M_hisher voice steady but not unkind. “And yeah, I get why you’re going bonkers. I’d be too. But unless something else happens—and I assure you it won’t—it’s pretty much locked for the year.”
You wanted to argue, to push harder, but you could hear the finality in $M_name’s tone.
“I know it’s not ideal,” $M_name continued, $M_hisher voice softening with sympathy. “But you’re going to have to figure out how to coexist for now.”
$V_name finally spoke, $V_hisher voice barely above a whisper. “I understand why you’d feel that way. I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to talk to me again. But I want to make this right. I really do.”
You looked at $V_name, who seemed to shrink under your gaze. You softened, just a little. It was hard to hold onto your ire when $V_heshe looked so genuinely remorseful.
“Look,” you said. “I get that things were… chaotic. But this isn’t just about you. It’s my space too. I need to feel safe here.”
$M_name nodded, crossing $M_hisher arms tighter as if to shield $M_himself from the tension in the air. “That’s completely fair. And I promise I’ll keep an eye on both of you. If something happens again, I’ll try my hardest to get the urgency across.”
You studied $M_name for a moment, contemplating how serious $V_heshe seemed. “I appreciate that. But I really don’t want to be in a situation where I have to wait for something worse to happen.”
“I understand,” $M_name replied, sincerity evident in $M_hisher tone. “If you ever felt threatened or uncomfortable, you could come to me.”
You nodded slowly, feeling a bit of the tension leak but still wrestling with the unease that lingered. “Alright, I guess.”
The awkward silence between the three of you stretched before $M_name spoke up. “Anyone up for breakfast?”
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.3">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.3]]*/<<notify>>+ Sarcasm<</notify>>The sarcasm dripped from every word, and $M_name frowned, but $V_name looked positively mortified. $V_HeShe glanced at you, then back down at the floor, shuffling nervously.
“$MC_firstname, I—" $V_heshe began, but you waved a hand dismissively.
“No, really, don’t worry about it. What’s a little attempted murder between suitemates? Just a classic icebreaker.”
$M_name shoots you a warning look. “Not the time for jokes, $MC_firstname. I get that humor helps, but maybe tone it down a bit?”
“Sorry,” you muttered, though you didn’t really mean it. “But come on, this is a little hard to process. One minute, I’m offering to help, and the next… well, you know the rest.”
$V_name bit $V_hisher lip, eyes flickering with remorse. “I get it. I wouldn’t forgive me either.”
You took a deep breath, trying to steady the swirling thoughts in your mind. “Look, $M_name,” you said, shifting the conversation to something more serious. “As an RA, you have some say in these things, right? I mean, is there any chance I could switch suitemates?”
$M_HeShe let out a slow sigh, $M_hisher eyes flicking between you and $V_name. “I figured you might ask that.”
You crossed your arms, feeling the tension in your chest tighten. “And? Is it possible?”
“I’m gonna be straight with you and tell you exactly what I told $V_name,” $M_name said, leaning back against the wall. “It’s not up to me. I can’t just move people around. Housing assignments come from above, and we’ve already got everyone paired and settled in. Even the dean can’t do anything about it now.”
Frustration bubbled inside you. “So I’m stuck with…” You hesitated, glancing at $V_name, who stood a few steps away, shoulders hunched. “With $V_himher?”
“Yeah,” $M_name said gently. “I know this situation isn’t ideal, but I’ll keep an eye on everything. If anything feels off, just let me know, okay?”
You felt a mix of resignation and irritation. “Great. So I just have to hope things don’t go south again?”
$M_name met your gaze, $M_hisher eyes unwavering. “You’re not alone in this. I’ll do everything I can to ensure you both feel safe and comfortable. But it’s important to give it some time. You might be surprised.”
You turned your attention back to $V_name, who stood silently, $V_hisher gaze cast down. “I don’t know if I can trust that,” you admitted, your voice softer now. “Trusting someone who nearly… well, you know.”
$V_name’s face fell, a shadow of pain crossing $V_hisher features. “I understand why you’d feel that way. I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to talk to me again. But I want to make this right. I really do.”
The sincerity in $V_hisher voice struck a chord. You could see the struggle in $V_hisher eyes, the way $V_heshe wrestled with $V_hisher own feelings of guilt and fear.
“It’s just going to take time,” you said finally, trying to keep your tone even. “But I guess I’ll take the chance. Not like I’ve got any other choice.”
The awkward silence between the three of you stretched before $M_name spoke up. “Anyone up for breakfast?”
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.3">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.3]]*/<<notify>>+ Arrogant<</notify>>You crossed your arms as you said it, glaring at $V_name. Your head was pounding, your back was bruised, and your patience was nonexistent.
$V_name flinches, their eyes widening in alarm. $M_name doesn’t look any more impressed.
“Let’s not escalate to that,” $M_heshe said, trying to calm you down.
“Oh, but let’s.” You take a step forward to your flinching suitemate, ignoring the dull ache radiating from your back. “My father doesn’t take kindly to things like this. One phone call, and you’re facing more lawsuits than you could count on both hands. So unless you want a legal team breathing down your neck, you’d better make damn sure nothing like this happens again.”
$V_name looked stricken, sickly despite the warmth of $V_hisher skin, $V_hisher hands clenched tightly together. “I didn’t mean—”
“Doesn’t matter what you <em>meant</em>,” you interrupted. “What matters is what you <em>did</em>.”
$M_name sighed, frustration flashing in $M_hisher dark eyes. “Alright, enough. Let’s all take a breath. You’re alive with no life-threatening injury, and so is $V_name. Let’s figure this out like adults.”
You took a deep breath, trying to temper the indignance swirling inside you. “Look, I demand that we discuss changing suitemates. This is—”
$M_name cut you off, $M_hisher brows knitting together. “You can’t demand anything here. Besides, it’s not entirely up to me. The assignments were made before the semester started. They come from above, and we’ve already got everyone paired and settled in. Even the dean can’t do anything about it now.”
Your heart sank, disappointment mingling with the remnants of your anger. “So what? I’m stuck with $V_himher?” You gestured toward $V_name, who looked increasingly uncomfortable.
“I know it seems unfair,” $M_name says, their voice steady but soft, “but we have to keep everyone’s safety and comfort in mind, including $V_name's. I’ll keep an eye on things, I promise. If any further incidents happen, I can advocate for a change then.”
You sighed. “So I just have to deal with this for now? Great.”
“Not forever,” $M_name reassured you. “Just give it some time. I’ll be here to support you both, and I’ll make sure this doesn’t go overlooked in the future.”
You glanced at $V_name, who was looking down at $V_hisher hands, guilt etched across $V_hisher features.
“Fine,” you said finally, your voice flat. “But if anything like this happens again, I suggest you lawyer up.”
$V_name nodded. “I understand why you’d feel that way. I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to talk to me again. But I want to make this right. I really do.”
You huffed, having weighed your options. “Whatever. But I’m not making any promises about being friendly.”
The awkward silence between the three of you stretched before $M_name spoke up. “Anyone up for breakfast?”
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.3">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.3]]*/<<notify>>+ Friendly<</notify>>You took a deep breath. Your head was still hurting, and there was a dull throb in your back, but you forced a smile, trying to ease the tension.
$V_name looked at you, $V_hisher eyes wide with a mixture of relief and guilt. “I— I really am sorry,” $V_heshe stammered. “I didn’t mean to—”
You shook your head. “It’s okay. I can tell it wasn’t intentional. Just… maybe keep an eye on the whole medication thing, yeah?”
$M_name raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by your response, but they didn't say anything and let you two have a moment. $V_name gave a small, shaky nod.
“Yeah,” $V_heshe murmured. “I will. I promise.”
You hesitated before mustering the courage to ask, “So… what’s this really about? Your schizophrenia, I mean. Is this something that happens often?”
$V_name looked up, eyes wide and a bit startled. “Uh… well, I don’t usually—” $V_hisher voice trailed off as $V_heshe took a breath, collecting $V_hisher thoughts. “As long as I’m on my meds, I’m generally fine. I’ve learned to manage it pretty well.”
You could see the tension in $V_hisher shoulders ease slightly, but the vulnerability in $V_hisher eyes remained. “But sometimes… if I miss a dose or if I’m under a lot of stress, things can spiral. That’s what happened earlier.” $V_hisher voice was quiet, almost ashamed.
“Is it always like that?” you pressed gently, trying to understand. “Like, can you tell when it’s coming on?”
$V_name nodded slowly. “Most of the time, yeah. It’s different every time though,” $V_hisher shoulders sagged as if the very act of explaining was exhausting. “Sometimes it’s shadows, or voices that whisper things I can’t quite understand. I try to fight it, but…” $V_heshe frowned, trying to find the right words.
“It’s like I’m watching a movie that I can’t pause or rewind,” $V_hisher eyes finally met yours, wide and earnest. “I lose control, and when I come back, I feel like I just woke up from a nap. It’s like I’m a stranger in my own body.”
You nodded slowly, processing the information. “And the Latin? Is that… something you automatically do when it happens?”
“Yes.” $V_hisher breath hitched as if they were revealing too much. “I learned it back at the Catholic orphanage I grew up in as a way to… fight back. It’s supposed to ground me, help me regain control. But sometimes, it just makes things worse.”
You could see the anguish etched in $V_hisher features, and your heart ached for $V_himher. “I’m sorry you have to go through that. It sounds terrifying.”
“It is,” $V_heshe replied with raw honesty.
“Do you feel different when you’re on your medications?” you asked, curiosity overcoming your apprehension.
“Not really,” $V_heshe answered with a slight smile, though it didn't quite reach $V_hisher eyes. “They just help me stay level. I don’t want to be a danger to anyone, especially not to you.”
A silence settled between you. You felt a strange sense of camaraderie, a shared understanding blossoming amidst the chaos.
“Thanks for explaining,” you said finally. “I didn’t know.”
$V_name nodded, relief mingling with gratitude. “I appreciate you asking. It’s very rare that people try to understand these things.”
The awkward silence between the three of you stretched before $M_name spoke up. “Anyone up for breakfast?”
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.3">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.3]]*/<<notify>>+ Laidback<</notify>>You let out a long breath, rolling your stiff shoulders as you leaned against the doorframe.
Both $M_name and $V_name stared at you for a moment, clearly not expecting your nonchalant reaction.
The latter swallowed hard, $V_hisher voice barely above a whisper. “I… I didn’t mean to—”
“Yeah, I get it,” you cut in, waving a hand dismissively. “Shit happens. Just, y’know, maybe let’s not make this a regular thing?”
$V_name blinked, and then, surprisingly, a small, tentative smile pulled at the corners of $V_hisher mouth. “Right. Yeah. I’ll… I’ll make sure of that.”
$M_name looked at you with an odd mix of disbelief and reluctant admiration. “You’re taking this a lot better than I thought you would.”
You shrugged and threw $M_himher a lazy smile. “Hey, I’m still standing, aren’t I?”
After a beat of silence, you decided to lean into the moment, curiosity creeping back in. “But seriously, $V_name… can we talk about what happened? I mean, what are these episodes like for you?”
$V_name's smile faded, replaced by a flicker of unease. “It’s… hard to explain.” They ran a hand through their messy black curls, the gesture almost nervous. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m caught in a dream where everything is just a little off—distorted. Other times, it’s like I’m in a nightmare, but I can’t wake up.”
“What do you see?” you asked, trying to keep your tone gentle.
“It’s different every time,” $V_name murmured, their gaze dropping to the floor. “Sometimes there are shadows, figures that loom just out of sight. Other times, it’s voices, whispers that crawl under my skin. I can’t always tell what’s real. It’s like I’m watching a movie that I can’t pause or rewind,” $V_hisher eyes looked up met yours, wide and earnest. “I lose control, and when I come back, I feel like I just woke up from a nap. It’s like I’m a stranger in my own body.”
You nodded slowly, absorbing their words. “And the Latin? Is that a way to fight it?”
$V_name exhaled deeply. “Yes. It’s like my last line of defense. I learned it back at the Catholic orphanage I grew up in. It’s supposed to ground me, but sometimes it just adds to the chaos.”
“Does it work?” you asked, genuinely curious.
“Not always,” $V_name admitted, frustration seeping into $V_hisher voice. “Sometimes it’s just a lot of noise in my head. It makes it worse, and I feel like I’m losing control.”
You thought for a moment, trying to find the right words. “That sounds terrifying. I can’t imagine what it must be like.”
$V_name met your gaze, vulnerability shimmering in those deep brown eyes. “It is. But I don’t want you to worry about me. I’ll handle it. I have my medication, and I’ll make sure to stay on top of it.”
“Do you feel different when you’re on your medications?”
“Not really,” $V_heshe answered with a slight smile, though it didn't quite reach $V_hisher eyes. “They just help me stay level. I don’t want to be a danger to anyone, especially not to you.”
A silence settled between you. You felt a strange sense of camaraderie, a shared understanding blossoming amidst the confusion.
“Thanks for explaining,” you said finally. “I didn’t know.”
$V_name nodded, relief mingling with gratitude. “I appreciate you asking. It’s very rare that people try to understand these things.”
The awkward silence between the three of you stretched before $M_name spoke up. “Anyone up for breakfast?”
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.3">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.3]]*/<<notify>>+ Optimist<</notify>>You rubbed the back of your neck, trying to shake off the lingering aches from the fall.
$V_name looked stunned for a moment, $V_hisher wide brown eyes meeting yours in disbelief. Then, slowly, a smile tugged at their lips—hesitant, but real.
“I… I really hope so,” they said quietly, the tension in their posture loosening just a little. “I’m so sorry.”
“Water under the bridge,” you replied, shrugging. “Let’s just both agree not to choke each other out next time, okay?”
$V_name let out a shaky laugh, rubbing their hands nervously against their thighs. “Deal.”
$M_name watched the two of you with a bemused expression, shaking their head in disbelief. “You’re more optimistic than I’d be.”
“Hey,” you said with a grin, “you have to admit that it’d make one hell of a ‘two truths and a lie’ statement.”
As the mood lightened, your curiosity pushed through. “But seriously, $V_name… can we talk about what happened? I mean, what are these episodes like for you?”
$V_HeShe hesitated, $V_hisher gaze dropping to the floor as if the weight of the question was pulling them down. “It’s… complicated. Sometimes, it feels like I’m watching a movie, and I’m just a character in it. Everything around me feels distant, like I’m behind glass. Other times, it’s like reality fractures, and I can’t tell what’s real anymore.”
You nodded, trying to grasp the intensity of what $V_heshe was describing. “That sounds really frightening.”
“It is,” $V_name admitted, closing $V_hisher eyes and sighing. “There are moments when I see things—shadows, mostly. They creep in at the corners of my vision, and the whispers… they’re the worst. It feels like I’m drowning in a sea of noise, and I can’t swim.”
You felt a surge of sympathy, your heart aching for $V_himher. “And the Latin? Is that something to help?”
“Yeah,” $V_name said, a flicker of embarrassment crossing $V_hisher features. “It’s a sort of prayer, I guess. I learned it back at the Catholic orphanage I grew up in. When things get overwhelming, reciting it helps me feel like I have some control. It’s like a shield, but sometimes it backfires.”
“Does it work?” you asked, genuinely curious.
“Not always,” $V_name admitted, frustration seeping into $V_hisher voice. “Sometimes it’s just a lot of noise in my head. It makes it worse, and I feel like I’m losing control.”
You thought for a moment, trying to find the right words. “That sounds terrifying. I can’t imagine what it must be like.”
$V_name met your gaze, vulnerability shimmering in their eyes. “It is. But I don’t want you to worry about me. I’ll handle it. I have my medication, and I’ll make sure to stay on top of it.”
“Do you feel different when you’re on your medications?”
“Not really,” $V_heshe answered with a slight smile, though it didn't quite reach $V_hisher eyes. “They just help me stay level. I don’t want to be a danger to anyone, especially not to you.”
A silence settled between you. You felt a strange sense of camaraderie, a shared understanding blossoming amidst the confusion.
“Thanks for explaining,” you said finally. “I didn’t know.”
$V_name nodded, relief mingling with gratitude. “I appreciate you asking. It’s very rare that people try to understand these things.”
The awkward silence between the three of you stretched before $M_name spoke up. “Anyone up for breakfast?”
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.3">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.3]]*/When you first met $M_name, you hadn’t thought of $M_himher as a cook. Looking at the maple syrup doused waffles and pancakes, you’d now changed your misconception promptly.
“Did you actually make this?” you asked, eyebrows raised as you surveyed the spread.
“Of course,” $M_name replied, $M_hisher voice dripping with a refined nonchalance. “I find the culinary arts to be a delightful diversion in the mornings.”
You exchanged a glance with $V_name, who looked slightly bemused.
“Is it really that serious?” you asked, trying to keep the mood light.
$M_name raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on $M_hisher lips. “In philosophy, one learns to see the world for what it is—a series of existential crises punctuated by breakfast.”
$V_name laughed, the sound easing some of the lingering tension. “Well, if this is how we face existential crises, I’d say we’re off to a good start.”
You took a seat, glancing at the towering stack of waffles. “With your Yoda-like wisdom, I’d be almost disappointed if you weren’t a Philosophy major.”
“I guess it’s your lucky day then,” $M_name smiled like $M_heshe was sharing a secret, “I am indeed a Philosophy major. Well, double major with Global Affairs to be specific.”
Your eyes widened, impressed but also not too surprised. “Damn, how is that going?”
“It’s rather like trying to balance a paradox,” $M_name replied, cutting into a waffle with an almost surgical precision. “One moment, I’m contemplating the moral implications of Kant’s categorical imperative, and the next, I’m analyzing global power dynamics. It’s a continuous tug-of-war between idealism and realism.”
You nodded, genuinely intrigued. “That sounds intense. Do you ever feel overwhelmed?”
“Only when I’m required to explain it to laypersons,” $M_name said, an exaggerated sigh escaping $M_hisher lips. “But I find solace in the abstract.”
“Abstract is good,” $V_name interjected, cautiously joining in. “Sometimes it’s easier to deal with ideas than reality.”
$M_name looked at $V_himher with a hint of understanding. “Indeed. And what about you? Greek Literature? That sounds like a fascinating subject.”
$V_name seemed to brighten a little, encouraged by the question. “It is! I love how literature can transport you to different worlds. It’s… it’s like diving into another life, another time.”
“Perhaps that’s what we all seek,” $M_name mused, a thoughtful look crossing $M_hisher face. “An escape from our own narratives.”
You glanced between them, feeling the weight of the moment. “Or a way to understand them better?”
$M_name nodded at you, looking impressed. “Quite profound.”
You blinked, not expecting the compliment. Thankfully, $V_name spoke up shyly to shake you out of your surprise. “Um so, $MC_firstname, what’s your major?”
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.4">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.4]]*/The conversation had petered down to an almost painful kind of awkwardness. Well, it was more between you and $V_name, $M_name was just the involuntary party between you who was keeping an eye on you both.
Your RA cleared $M_hisher throat, breaking the tension. “So, have you both heard about the activities fair being held today?”
You shook your head, curious. “No, what’s that about?”
“It’s a great opportunity to explore various clubs and organizations on campus,” $M_name explained, $M_hisher enthusiasm palpable. “Everything from academic societies to cultural groups. It’s a whirlwind of options, really. I could show you two around if you’d like.”
$V_name perked up, looking at you. “That sounds nice! I mean, it’d help you get more familiar with campus life, and, um, it might make things a little less awkward between us too.”
“And who knows? You might discover a hidden passion for something unexpected—like underwater basket weaving or extreme ironing.” $M_name added with a slight grin.
“Yeah,” $V_name said, $V_hisher voice gaining a hint of confidence. “If we’re all wandering around together, it might ease some of the pressure. Plus, we can check out the clubs that interest you most!”
“What do you think?” $M_name asked, $M_hisher eyes searching yours for affirmation. “I mean, if you don’t mind.”
You paused, weighing your options, before nodding. “Yeah sure, if you’re both up for it, I’d love to see what they’ve got here.”
“Perfect,” $M_name replied, clearly pleased. “Let’s clean up and be off. Meet me by the entrance door by 10:30 a.m. sharp. Oh and please,” $M_name fixed you both with a look, “be on time. I do not like to be kept waiting.”
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.5">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.5]]*/The activities fair was sprawling, a chaotic mass of tables, booths, and banners lining the green quad in front of Sterling Memorial Library. The air buzzed with excitement, students milling about, arms full of fliers, the sound of laughter and music mingling with the hum of conversation. It was an almost overwhelming assault on the senses—the sharp scent of grass, the faint odor of sweat mingled with different types of fragrance, and the occasional burst of some frying food being sold nearby. The sun hung high in the sky, bathing everything in a warm, golden light, almost too idyllic for autumn.
$M_name moved through the throng of people with effortless grace, cutting a sharp figure in $M_hisher perfectly tailored blazer, the navy wool catching the sunlight just enough to give $M_himher an air of authority. The crisp, white button-up underneath was open at the collar, just slightly, and $M_hisher dark trousers tapered neatly to polished leather shoes. $M_HeShe looked like $M_heshe’d walked out of some catalog for academic chic, yet $M_heshe wore it with such practiced ease that it seemed like the natural extension of $M_hisher personality—refined, composed, untouched by the sweaty, excited chaos around them.
Beside $M_himher, $V_name was more subdued but not without charm—dressed in a loose, oatmeal-colored sweater that hung comfortably over black jeans, $V_hisher checkered Vans slightly scuffed but clearly well-loved. There was an understated elegance to the way $V_heshe carried $V_himself, a kind of quiet defiance against the polished hubbub of the fair. $V_HeShe kept brushing a stray curl behind $V_hisher ear, $V_hisher eyes flitting nervously between you and the tables, as if unsure where to focus $V_hisher attention.
You, meanwhile, had dressed in:
<<if $MC_style is "grunge">>*[[Oversized flannel shirt, distressed black jeans, vintage band tee, scuffed combat boots, beanie.|Ch 3.6]]
*[[Ripped tights, plaid skirt, vintage band tee, chunky boots, leather jacket, choker.|Ch 3.6]]
<<elseif $MC_style is "preppy">>*[[Button-up oxford shirt, cable-knit sweater over the shoulders, chino pants, loafers, classic watch.|Ch 3.6]]
*[[Pleated skirt, collared blouse, cardigan, ballet flats, pearl earrings.|Ch 3.6]]
<<elseif $MC_style is "emo">>*[[Black skinny jeans, graphic band tee, studded belt, Converse sneakers, wristbands.|Ch 3.6]]
*[[Striped long-sleeve under a band tee, mini skirt with fishnet tights, platform boots, wristbands.|Ch 3.6]]
<<elseif $MC_style is "goth">>*[[Black velvet blazer, high-collared shirt, tailored black trousers, pointed leather boots, silver rings.|Ch 3.6]]
*[[Corset top, long lace skirt, platform boots, dark lipstick, lace gloves, chokers.|Ch 3.6]]
<<elseif $MC_style is "sportswear">>*[[Athletic joggers, fitted hoodie, running shoes, baseball cap, sports watch.|Ch 3.6]]
*[[High-waisted leggings, cropped sports tank-top, sneakers, lightweight jacket.|Ch 3.6]]
<<elseif $MC_style is "punk">>*[[Leather jacket covered in patches, ripped skinny jeans, studded belt, Dr. Martens boots, graphic tee.|Ch 3.6]]
*[[Plaid mini skirt, fishnet stockings, combat boots, studded leather jacket, spiked choker, graphic tee.|Ch 3.6]]
<<elseif $MC_style is "streetwear">>*[[Oversized hoodie, cargo pants, high-top sneakers, bucket hat.|Ch 3.6]]
*[[Baggy joggers, cropped hoodie, chunky sneakers, bucket hat.|Ch 3.6]]
<<elseif $MC_style is "biker">>*[[Leather biker jacket, black jeans, heavy-duty boots, obsidian rings, plain tee.|Ch 3.6]]
*[[Moto leather jacket, black skinny jeans, ankle boots, obsidian rings, plain tee.|Ch 3.6]]
<<elseif $MC_style is "Y2K">>*[[Baggy jeans, tight graphic tee, puffer jacket, chunky sneakers, chain necklace.|Ch 3.6]]
*[[Low-rise jeans, baby tee, mini shoulder bag, platform sandals, butterfly clips.|Ch 3.6]]
<<elseif $MC_style is "dark academia">>*[[Tweed blazer, turtleneck, dark wool trousers, oxford shoes.|Ch 3.6]]
*[[Plaid pleated skirt, wool sweater, tights, loafers, oversized coat.|Ch 3.6]]
<<elseif $MC_style is "light academia">>*[[Cream cable-knit sweater, beige chinos, brown loafers.|Ch 3.6]]
*[[Light-colored blouse, A-line skirt, tan cardigan, ballet flats.|Ch 3.6]]
<<elseif $MC_style is "old money">>*[[Polo shirt, tailored trousers, cashmere sweater over shoulders, loafers.|Ch 3.6]]
*[[Silk blouse, pleated midi skirt, pearl necklace, kitten heels.|Ch 3.6]]
<<elseif $MC_style is "cottagecore">>*[[Linen shirt, rolled-up trousers, suspenders, brown loafers.|Ch 3.6]]
*[[Floral midi dress, lace-up sandals, delicate jewelry.|Ch 3.6]]
<<elseif $MC_style is "indie">>*[[Flannel shirt, cuffed jeans, vintage boots, beanie, oversized tee.|Ch 3.6]]
*[[Floral sundress, oversized denim jacket, ankle boots, layered necklaces.|Ch 3.6]]
<<elseif $MC_style is "skater">>*[[Graphic tee, baggy jeans, Vans Sk8-Hi, beanie, wristbands.|Ch 3.6]]
*[[Oversized hoodie, baggy jeans, Vans Sk8-Hi, beanie, wristbands.|Ch 3.6]]
<<elseif $MC_style is "artsy">>*[[Brightly colored shirt, corduroy pants, canvas shoes, patterned scarf.|Ch 3.6]]
*[[Overalls with a cropped top, colorful earrings, mismatched socks.|Ch 3.6]]
<<elseif $MC_style is "boho">>*[[Linen shirt, loose patterned pants, leather sandals, beaded bracelets.|Ch 3.6]]
*[[Maxi dress, fringed vest, gladiator sandals, lots of jewelry.|Ch 3.6]]
<<elseif $MC_style is "trendsetter">>*[[Statement jacket, slim-fit designer pants, sleek Chelsea boots, layered necklaces.|Ch 3.6]]
*[[High-fashion blazer dress, knee-high boots, layered necklaces.|Ch 3.6]]
<<elseif $MC_style is "90s">>*[[Oversized denim jacket, graphic tee, baggy jeans, high-top sneakers, chain necklace.|Ch 3.6]]
*[[Slip dress over a white tee, platform sneakers, choker, scrunchie.|Ch 3.6]]
<<elseif $MC_style is "downtown">>*[[Sleek black turtleneck, slim-fit trousers, leather Chelsea boots.|Ch 3.6]]
*[[Tailored black blazer, cropped trousers, ankle boots, gold hoop earrings.|Ch 3.6]]
<<elseif $MC_style is "vintage">>*[[High-waisted trousers, suspenders, vintage patterned shirt, oxford shoes.|Ch 3.6]]
*[[Polka dot tea dress, kitten heels, red lipstick, vintage handbag.|Ch 3.6]]<</if>>“Are you interested in the fencing club?” $M_name asked, with a touch of amusement in $M_hisher voice as $M_heshe nodded towards a group of students demonstrating their footwork with foil swords. The stall was decked out in gleaming gear—helmets, swords, gloves—surrounded by enthusiastic members calling out invitations for passersby to give it a try.
“Not really my style,” you replied, eyeing the swords. “I’m more likely to hurt myself than anything else.”
$V_name chuckled softly beside you, the sound barely rising above the din. “Same. I’d probably trip over my own feet.” $V_HeShe glanced around nervously before adding, “I was thinking something a bit... safer.”
$M_name raised an eyebrow.
“Suit yourself, you two,” $M_heshe said dryly, but there was a lightness to $M_hisher tone that suggested $M_heshe wasn’t serious.
“Philosophy Club is over there,” $M_name gestured after looking around for a bit, nodding toward a booth draped in a banner that simply read ‘Cogito ergo sum’. A student sat behind it, flipping through what appeared to be a copy of The Myth of Sisyphus by Albert Camus. “It’s a serious bunch. If you’re in the mood for an existential crisis, that’s the place to go.”
You snorted, shaking your head. “I think I’ll pass on that one too.”
$V_name smiled but seemed distracted, $V_hisher eyes darting around as $V_heshe took in the array of stalls. “I’m more interested in the literary stuff,” $V_heshe said, gesturing toward a nearby booth where an intense-looking group was discussing Homer’s Iliad. “The Greek and Roman Studies Club looks cool.”
“You should sign up,” you encouraged $V_himher. “Sounds like it’s right up your alley.”
$M_name seemed to be enjoying the spectacle as an observer rather than a participant. “It’s fascinating, don’t you think?” $M_heshe said to you in a low voice, eyes scanning the crowd. “All these people, so eager to belong to something.”
*[[“It’s a bit overwhelming,” you admitted, glancing around at the sheer number of options. “But I guess it’s part of the experience.”|Ch 3.7.1][$Introvert to Math.clamp($Introvert + 3, 0, 100), $Extrovert to Math.clamp($Extrovert - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+4, $V_friendship to $V_friendship+4]]
*<<link '“You smiled at $M_name’s observation. “I think it’s great. Everyone’s trying to find their place. It feels... welcoming."' "Ch 3.7.2">><<set $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100); $M_friendship to $M_friendship+5; $V_friendship to $V_friendship+5>><</link>>/*[[Ch 3.7.2]]*/
*[[“Honestly, I don't think I'd be able to keep up with them," you admitted. “I barely understand half of what Sartre’s about."|Ch 3.7.3][$Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+4, $V_friendship to $V_friendship+4]]
*[[“I don’t want to overcommit," you said, glancing at the long list of potential clubs. “I need to be careful about what I choose."|Ch 3.7.4][$Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious + 3, 0, 100), $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+4, $V_friendship to $V_friendship+4]]
*[[“I think it’s more about passion," you said, watching the Greek and Roman Studies booth. “People find things they really love and dive in."|Ch 3.7.5][$Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional + 3, 0, 100), $Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+5, $V_friendship to $V_friendship+5]]
*[[“Most of these people will probably quit halfway through the semester," you remarked dryly. “It’s all just temporary."|Ch 3.7.6][$Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist + 3, 0, 100), $Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+4, $V_friendship to $V_friendship+4]]
*[[“It’s all about building connections," you said, nodding toward the more prestigious clubs. “You never know who you’ll meet."|Ch 3.7.7][$Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic + 3, 0, 100), $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+4, $V_friendship to $V_friendship+4]]<<notify>>+ Introvert<</notify>>“It’s a bit overwhelming," you admitted, your eyes sweeping across the crowded stalls, taking in the bustling energy. Clubs were vying for attention like flowers straining toward sunlight, each display brighter and louder than the next. “It’s like everyone here knows exactly where they belong, what they’re supposed to be doing." A breath escaped you. “I’m just trying to get through this without feeling lost."
The din of excited voices swirled around you, but you felt removed from it, like you were watching everything unfold from a distant place. $M_name gave you a sidelong glance but didn’t press. There was a knowing look in $M_hisher eyes that seemed to say $M_heshe understood that feeling all too well sometimes.
There was a beat of silence, the noise of the fair ebbing and flowing around you like an ocean before $V_name straightens $V_himself. “I think I’m gonna sign up for the Greek and Roman Studies Club.”
You could see $V_himher glance at the booth again, eyes lingering on the group of students deep in discussion about the <em>Iliad</em>, their hands moving with the kind of excitement that only comes from true passion. $V_HeShe swallowed slightly, like maybe signing up for something that intense is more nerve-wracking than $V_heshe let on.
*<<link '“Go for it," you encouraged, giving $V_himher a small nudge.' "Ch 3.8.1">><<set $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>>
*[[“Cool," you said, shrugging slightly. “If that’s what you want to do."|Ch 3.8.2][$Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic + 3, 0, 100); $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional - 3, 0, 100)]]
*<<link '“Just don’t strangle anyone this time," you snarked, still not willing to let it go yet.' "Ch 3.8.3">><<set $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>>/*[[Ch 3.8.3]]*/
*<<link 'You opened your mouth to say something but felt the words die in your throat when you looked at $V_himher under the sun rays. [♥]' "Ch 3.8.4">><<set $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100); $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100); $V_romance to $V_romance+1>><</link>>
*<<if $V_gender is "male">><<link '“I don’t know," you said, your voice dipping lower, “but I think you would look really good in a <em>toga</em>." [♥]' "Ch 3.8.5">><<set $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100); $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100); $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100); $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100); $V_romance to $V_romance+1>><</link>><<elseif $V_gender is "female">><<link '“I don’t know,“ you said, your voice dipping lower, “but I think you would look really good in a <em>stola</em>." [♥]' "Ch 3.8.6">><<set $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100); $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100); $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100); $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100); $V_romance to $V_romance+1>><</link>><</if>>
/*[[Ch 3.8.1]] [[Ch 3.8.4]] [[Ch 3.8.5]] [[Ch 3.8.6]]*/<<notify>>+ Humble<</notify>>“Honestly, I don't think I'd be able to keep up with them," you admitted, nodding at the Philosophy Club booth. “I barely understand half of what Sartre’s about."
You remembered the struggle of skimming through <em>The Myth of Sisyphus</em> during a particularly grueling night of research for a paper you could barely finish in high school. “There’s this one quote about ‘authenticity,’ and I’m pretty sure I’ve misquoted it every time I’ve used it." You let out a self-deprecating laugh, scratching the back of your neck. “Not my strongest suit."
$M_name chuckled beside you. “At least you tried. I wouldn’t even bother." $M_HisHer voice was light, teasing, but there was a certain respect in $M_hisher eyes when $M_heshe glanced at you. “But you could’ve fooled me with all your philosophical insights."
$V_name looked thoughtful, glancing at you. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You seem to be really smart."
You shook your head, smiling. “Maybe, but some of this stuff is just way beyond me." You glanced back at the booth, the student flipping another page of <em>The Myth of Sisyphus</em> with the ease of someone who understood it intimately. “I think I’ll leave the deep thinking to the experts."
There was a beat of silence, the noise of the fair ebbing and flowing around you like an ocean before $V_name straightens $V_himself. “I think I’m gonna sign up for the Greek and Roman Studies Club.”
You could see $V_himher glance at the booth again, eyes lingering on the group of students deep in discussion about the <em>Iliad</em>, their hands moving with the kind of excitement that only comes from true passion. $V_HeShe swallowed slightly, like maybe signing up for something that intense is more nerve-wracking than $V_heshe let on.
*<<link '“Go for it," you encouraged, giving $V_himher a small nudge.' "Ch 3.8.1">><<set $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>>
*[[“Cool," you said, shrugging slightly. “If that’s what you want to do."|Ch 3.8.2][$Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic + 3, 0, 100); $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional - 3, 0, 100)]]
*<<link '“Just don’t strangle anyone this time," you snarked, still not willing to let it go yet.' "Ch 3.8.3">><<set $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>>/*[[Ch 3.8.3]]*/
*<<link 'You opened your mouth to say something but felt the words die in your throat when you looked at $V_himher under the sun rays. [♥]' "Ch 3.8.4">><<set $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100); $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100); $V_romance to $V_romance+1>><</link>>
*<<if $V_gender is "male">><<link '“I don’t know," you said, your voice dipping lower, “but I think you would look really good in a <em>toga</em>." [♥]' "Ch 3.8.5">><<set $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100); $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100); $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100); $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100); $V_romance to $V_romance+1>><</link>><<elseif $V_gender is "female">><<link '“I don’t know,“ you said, your voice dipping lower, “but I think you would look really good in a <em>stola</em>." [♥]' "Ch 3.8.6">><<set $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100); $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100); $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100); $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100); $V_romance to $V_romance+1>><</link>><</if>>
/*[[Ch 3.8.1]] [[Ch 3.8.4]] [[Ch 3.8.5]] [[Ch 3.8.6]]*/<<notify>>+ Cautious<</notify>>“I don’t want to overcommit," you said, frowning slightly as your gaze flitted between the stalls. The Activities Fair had an overwhelming energy, a bustling circus of possibilities and decisions that made your head spin. You shifted your weight uneasily. “I’ve heard people say this is where you can define your college experience, but it feels more like... a lot of pressure." Your voice trailed off as your eyes caught on a group of students feverishly recruiting for the Debate Team, their faces flush with adrenaline. “I need to be careful about what I choose."
$M_name smirked, but there was something soft in their eyes. “You always seem to think things through too much. Sometimes you’ve just got to pick something and go with it."
$V_name hesitated, then nodded in agreement. “Yeah, but I get it. You want to make the right choice." $V_HeShe glanced at a student arguing passionately at the Debate Team booth. “There’s no point in signing up for something if you’re not all in."
“Exactly,” you replied, your voice steadying. “It’s easy to get caught up in the excitement and commit to too many things. I’d rather take my time and pick something that really fits."
$M_name shrugged, looking slightly amused. "Well, don’t take too long. You might miss out."
You gave a half-smile, glancing back at the rows of clubs. "I’d rather be sure than overwhelmed."
There was a beat of silence, the noise of the fair ebbing and flowing around you like an ocean before $V_name straightens $V_himself. “I think I’m gonna sign up for the Greek and Roman Studies Club.”
You could see $V_himher glance at the booth again, eyes lingering on the group of students deep in discussion about the <em>Iliad</em>, their hands moving with the kind of excitement that only comes from true passion. $V_HeShe swallowed slightly, like maybe signing up for something that intense is more nerve-wracking than $V_heshe let on.
*<<link '“Go for it," you encouraged, giving $V_himher a small nudge.' "Ch 3.8.1">><<set $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>>
*[[“Cool," you said, shrugging slightly. “If that’s what you want to do."|Ch 3.8.2][$Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic + 3, 0, 100); $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional - 3, 0, 100)]]
*<<link '“Just don’t strangle anyone this time," you snarked, still not willing to let it go yet.' "Ch 3.8.3">><<set $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>>/*[[Ch 3.8.3]]*/
*<<link 'You opened your mouth to say something but felt the words die in your throat when you looked at $V_himher under the sun rays. [♥]' "Ch 3.8.4">><<set $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100); $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100); $V_romance to $V_romance+1>><</link>>
*<<if $V_gender is "male">><<link '“I don’t know," you said, your voice dipping lower, “but I think you would look really good in a <em>toga</em>." [♥]' "Ch 3.8.5">><<set $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100); $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100); $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100); $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100); $V_romance to $V_romance+1>><</link>><<elseif $V_gender is "female">><<link '“I don’t know,“ you said, your voice dipping lower, “but I think you would look really good in a <em>stola</em>." [♥]' "Ch 3.8.6">><<set $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100); $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100); $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100); $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100); $V_romance to $V_romance+1>><</link>><</if>>
/*[[Ch 3.8.1]] [[Ch 3.8.4]] [[Ch 3.8.5]] [[Ch 3.8.6]]*/<<notify>>+ Emotional<</notify>>“I think it’s more about passion," you said softly, watching as the students at the Greek and Roman Studies booth animatedly discussed The Iliad, their hands gesturing wildly as they debated the merits of different translations. “People find things they really love and just... dive in. It’s like they’re trying to make sense of the world through these clubs." Your voice held a note of awe as you spoke, reflecting on the depth of devotion you saw around you. “It’s kind of inspiring, actually."
$V_name looked at you, $V_hisher expression unreadable for a moment before $V_heshe smiled. “That’s one way to look at it. I like that." There was something in $V_hisher voice that suggested $V_heshe hadn’t thought about it that way before. “I guess that’s why I’m interested in the literary stuff. It’s not just about joining a club—it’s about connecting with something deeper."
$M_name raised an eyebrow, clearly amused but not mocking. “You’re a romantic, aren’t you?"
You smiled, a touch of warmth filling your chest. “Maybe. But I think we all need something to be passionate about, even if it’s just for a while."
$M_name seemed thoughtful for a moment. “Yeah, I guess there’s something to that." $M_HeShe glanced around, watching the way the students immersed themselves in their respective worlds. “People want to belong to something, but maybe it’s more about finding that spark."
There was a beat of silence, the noise of the fair ebbing and flowing around you like an ocean before $V_name straightens $V_himself. “I think I’m gonna sign up for the Greek and Roman Studies Club.”
You could see $V_himher glance at the booth again, eyes lingering on the group of students deep in discussion about the <em>Iliad</em>, their hands moving with the kind of excitement that only comes from true passion. $V_HeShe swallowed slightly, like maybe signing up for something that intense is more nerve-wracking than $V_heshe let on.
*<<link '“Go for it," you encouraged, giving $V_himher a small nudge.' "Ch 3.8.1">><<set $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>>
*[[“Cool," you said, shrugging slightly. “If that’s what you want to do."|Ch 3.8.2][$Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic + 3, 0, 100); $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional - 3, 0, 100)]]
*<<link '“Just don’t strangle anyone this time," you snarked, still not willing to let it go yet.' "Ch 3.8.3">><<set $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>>/*[[Ch 3.8.3]]*/
*<<link 'You opened your mouth to say something but felt the words die in your throat when you looked at $V_himher under the sun rays. [♥]' "Ch 3.8.4">><<set $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100); $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100); $V_romance to $V_romance+1>><</link>>
*<<if $V_gender is "male">><<link '“I don’t know," you said, your voice dipping lower, “but I think you would look really good in a <em>toga</em>." [♥]' "Ch 3.8.5">><<set $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100); $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100); $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100); $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100); $V_romance to $V_romance+1>><</link>><<elseif $V_gender is "female">><<link '“I don’t know,“ you said, your voice dipping lower, “but I think you would look really good in a <em>stola</em>." [♥]' "Ch 3.8.6">><<set $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100); $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100); $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100); $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100); $V_romance to $V_romance+1>><</link>><</if>>
/*[[Ch 3.8.1]] [[Ch 3.8.4]] [[Ch 3.8.5]] [[Ch 3.8.6]]*/<<notify>>+ Pessimist<</notify>>“Most of these people will probably quit halfway through the semester," you remarked dryly, crossing your arms as you watched a group of freshmen excitedly signing up for clubs at the various booths. “It’s all just temporary." There was a cynicism to your words, one born out of observation rather than bitterness. You’d seen this kind of enthusiasm before—bright, burning, and then quickly extinguished when reality set in.
$V_name glanced at you, frowning slightly. “You really think that?"
You shrugged, eyes following a group of overzealous recruiters from the Chess Club. “I mean, sure, it’s fun for now. But give it a few weeks, and half of these people won’t even show up to meetings. They’ll realize it’s too much work, or it’s not what they thought it would be."
$M_name chuckled darkly beside you. “Harsh, but true."
You nodded, feeling the truth of your words settle in your chest. ”It’s just how things go. People get caught up in the moment, but when the novelty wears off..." You trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid. The energy of the fair suddenly felt hollow, like something that would inevitably fizzle out.
There was a beat of silence, the noise of the fair ebbing and flowing around you like an ocean before $V_name straightens $V_himself. “I think I’m gonna sign up for the Greek and Roman Studies Club.”
You could see $V_himher glance at the booth again, eyes lingering on the group of students deep in discussion about the <em>Iliad</em>, their hands moving with the kind of excitement that only comes from true passion. $V_HeShe swallowed slightly, like maybe signing up for something that intense is more nerve-wracking than $V_heshe let on.
*<<link '“Go for it," you encouraged, giving $V_himher a small nudge.' "Ch 3.8.1">><<set $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>>
*[[“Cool," you said, shrugging slightly. “If that’s what you want to do."|Ch 3.8.2][$Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic + 3, 0, 100); $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional - 3, 0, 100)]]
*<<link '“Just don’t strangle anyone this time," you snarked, still not willing to let it go yet.' "Ch 3.8.3">><<set $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>>/*[[Ch 3.8.3]]*/
*<<link 'You opened your mouth to say something but felt the words die in your throat when you looked at $V_himher under the sun rays. [♥]' "Ch 3.8.4">><<set $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100); $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100); $V_romance to $V_romance+1>><</link>>
*<<if $V_gender is "male">><<link '“I don’t know," you said, your voice dipping lower, “but I think you would look really good in a <em>toga</em>." [♥]' "Ch 3.8.5">><<set $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100); $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100); $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100); $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100); $V_romance to $V_romance+1>><</link>><<elseif $V_gender is "female">><<link '“I don’t know,“ you said, your voice dipping lower, “but I think you would look really good in a <em>stola</em>." [♥]' "Ch 3.8.6">><<set $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100); $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100); $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100); $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100); $V_romance to $V_romance+1>><</link>><</if>>
/*[[Ch 3.8.1]] [[Ch 3.8.4]] [[Ch 3.8.5]] [[Ch 3.8.6]]*/<<notify>>+ Pragmatic<</notify>>“It’s all about building connections," you said, gesturing toward the more prestigious clubs with their polished banners and sharply-dressed members. “You never know who you’ll meet." There was a calculated edge to your words, not cold but practical, as you watched students eagerly shaking hands and exchanging contact information. This wasn’t just about hobbies or interests—it was about networking, about setting yourself up for the future.
$M_name nodded, following your gaze. “Yeah, some of these people will end up in pretty powerful places."
$V_name looked thoughtful, glancing at a booth for a business club where a well-dressed senior was talking animatedly about internships and job prospects. “That makes sense. It’s not just about what you’re interested in—it’s about where those interests can take you."
You nodded in agreement. “Exactly. College is about more than just classes. It’s about positioning yourself. These clubs—they’re the first step."
$M_name grinned. "Always thinking ahead, aren’t you?"
“Someone has to,” you replied with a wry smile, eyes scanning the crowd.
There was a beat of silence, the noise of the fair ebbing and flowing around you like an ocean before $V_name straightens $V_himself. “I think I’m gonna sign up for the Greek and Roman Studies Club.”
You could see $V_himher glance at the booth again, eyes lingering on the group of students deep in discussion about the <em>Iliad</em>, their hands moving with the kind of excitement that only comes from true passion. $V_HeShe swallowed slightly, like maybe signing up for something that intense is more nerve-wracking than $V_heshe let on.
*<<link '“Go for it," you encouraged, giving $V_himher a small nudge.' "Ch 3.8.1">><<set $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>>
*[[“Cool," you said, shrugging slightly. “If that’s what you want to do."|Ch 3.8.2][$Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic + 3, 0, 100); $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional - 3, 0, 100)]]
*<<link '“Just don’t strangle anyone this time," you snarked, still not willing to let it go yet.' "Ch 3.8.3">><<set $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>>/*[[Ch 3.8.3]]*/
*<<link 'You opened your mouth to say something but felt the words die in your throat when you looked at $V_himher under the sun rays. [♥]' "Ch 3.8.4">><<set $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100); $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100); $V_romance to $V_romance+1>><</link>>
*<<if $V_gender is "male">><<link '“I don’t know," you said, your voice dipping lower, “but I think you would look really good in a <em>toga</em>." [♥]' "Ch 3.8.5">><<set $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100); $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100); $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100); $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100); $V_romance to $V_romance+1>><</link>><<elseif $V_gender is "female">><<link '“I don’t know,“ you said, your voice dipping lower, “but I think you would look really good in a <em>stola</em>." [♥]' "Ch 3.8.6">><<set $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100); $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100); $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100); $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100); $V_romance to $V_romance+1>><</link>><</if>>
/*[[Ch 3.8.1]] [[Ch 3.8.4]] [[Ch 3.8.5]] [[Ch 3.8.6]]*/<<notify>>+ Friendly<</notify>>You smiled at $M_name’s observation, glancing around at the array of clubs with their colorful banners and enthusiastic members. “I think it’s great," you said, nodding toward a group of students performing a choreographed martial arts routine with surprising synchronicity. “Everyone’s trying to find their place. It feels... welcoming, in a way." There was something comforting in the commotion, in the idea that everyone was looking for a place to belong.
$V_name gave a small, approving nod. “It’s kind of nice, right? Being around so many people who care about the same things you do."
You watched as a student wearing a bowler hat tried to convince a passing freshman to join the Historical Reenactment Society. She was holding a rapier with questionable expertise. “It’s like there’s a space for everyone here. Even the weird stuff."
$M_name smirked. "And you like the weird stuff as well?"
“Exactly,” you grinned, feeling the energy of the fair seep into your mood. "This is exactly the kind of place where you find your people."
There was a beat of silence, the noise of the fair ebbing and flowing around you like an ocean before $V_name straightens $V_himself. “I think I’m gonna sign up for the Greek and Roman Studies Club.”
You could see $V_himher glance at the booth again, eyes lingering on the group of students deep in discussion about the <em>Iliad</em>, their hands moving with the kind of excitement that only comes from true passion. $V_HeShe swallowed slightly, like maybe signing up for something that intense is more nerve-wracking than $V_heshe let on.
*<<link '“Go for it," you encouraged, giving $V_himher a small nudge.' "Ch 3.8.1">><<set $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>>
*[[“Cool," you said, shrugging slightly. “If that’s what you want to do."|Ch 3.8.2][$Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic + 3, 0, 100); $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional - 3, 0, 100)]]
*<<link '“Just don’t strangle anyone this time," you snarked, still not willing to let it go yet.' "Ch 3.8.3">><<set $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>>/*[[Ch 3.8.3]]*/
*<<link 'You opened your mouth to say something but felt the words die in your throat when you looked at $V_himher under the sun rays. [♥]' "Ch 3.8.4">><<set $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100); $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100); $V_romance to $V_romance+1>><</link>>
*<<if $V_gender is "male">><<link '“I don’t know," you said, your voice dipping lower, “but I think you would look really good in a <em>toga</em>." [♥]' "Ch 3.8.5">><<set $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100); $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100); $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100); $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100); $V_romance to $V_romance+1>><</link>><<elseif $V_gender is "female">><<link '“I don’t know,“ you said, your voice dipping lower, “but I think you would look really good in a <em>stola</em>." [♥]' "Ch 3.8.6">><<set $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100); $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100); $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100); $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100); $V_romance to $V_romance+1>><</link>><</if>>
/*[[Ch 3.8.1]] [[Ch 3.8.4]] [[Ch 3.8.5]] [[Ch 3.8.6]]*/<<notify>>+ Friendly<</notify>>You smiled at $V_name, warmth filling your chest as you noticed the flicker of nerves in $V_hisher expression.
“You should absolutely do it," you said, your voice steady with encouragement. “It’s right up your alley, and I think you’d get a lot out of it." There was a sincerity in your tone that seemed to soften $V_hisher tension, the weight of your words sinking in.
$V_name glanced at you, a bit surprised but clearly comforted by your support. “You think so?" $V_heshe asked, a small smile tugging at the corner of $V_hisher mouth.
You nodded, more confident now. “Definitely. Now stop overthinking about it before you chicken out." You nudged $V_himher lightly, your shoulder brushing $V_hisher, and you could feel the slight shift in $V_hisher demeanor, like some of the anxiety was easing.
$V_name gave you a grateful look, eyes softening. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll do it."
There was a quiet resolve in $V_hisher voice, and when $V_heshe stepped toward the booth, there was a subtle excitement there, like $V_heshe was finally leaning into something $V_heshe really cared about.
$M_name, who up until this point had been talking to the guy in the Philosophy Club booth, started walking toward you with a small smile. “So, have you decided on anything yet?”
Before you could answer $M_himher, a small <em>ping!</em> interrupted you, making $M_himher glance down at $M_hisher phone, $M_hisher expression shifting from relaxed to serious. “I’ve got to go. Looks like I’m being summoned," $M_heshe muttered, stuffing the phone into $M_hisher pocket with a barely-contained sigh.
You had no time to question anything as you noticed $M_name glancing over your shoulder. You turned, following $M_hisher gaze to where a reasonably tall blonde was making her way through the crowd, moving with a kind of mission, as though the space around her was meant to part for her presence. She wore a custom tailored maroon blazer, the rich, dark fabric setting off her porcelain skin. A straight burgundy skirt grazed her knees, and her platinum blonde hair, unnaturally cool against the rosy undertone of her skin, was pulled back in a sleek ponytail. Her features were haughty, almost severe, with almond-shaped dark eyes.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.9">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.9]]*/<<notify>>+ Uptight<</notify>>$V_name froze, eyes widening as a flush crept up $V_hisher neck, the memory of the previous incident clearly coming back to $V_himher. $V_hisher mouth opened and closed, a mix of horror and despair flitting across $V_hisher features before $V_heshe let out a quiet whimper.
“That was... it won’t happen again, I’ve told you that," $V_heshe tried weakly, still clearly affected by the reminder of that bad memory.
“Until you forget your medications again and almost kill a club member this time,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.
$V_name frowned, looking miserable, but didn’t say anything. Instead, $V_heshe just let out a shaky sigh and proceeded to walk toward the Greek and Roman Studies booth without another word to you.
$M_name, who up until this point had been talking to the guy in the Philosophy Club booth, started walking toward you with a small smile. “So, have you decided on anything yet?”
Before you could answer $M_himher, a small <em>ping!</em> interrupted you, making $M_himher glance down at $M_hisher phone, $M_hisher expression shifting from relaxed to serious. “I’ve got to go. Looks like I’m being summoned," $M_heshe muttered, stuffing the phone into $M_hisher pocket with a barely-contained sigh.
You had no time to question anything as you noticed $M_name glancing over your shoulder. You turned, following $M_hisher gaze to where a reasonably tall blonde was making her way through the crowd, moving with a kind of mission, as though the space around her was meant to part for her presence. She wore a custom tailored maroon blazer, the rich, dark fabric setting off her porcelain skin. A straight burgundy skirt grazed her knees, and her platinum blonde hair, unnaturally cool against the rosy undertone of her skin, was pulled back in a sleek ponytail. Her features were haughty, almost severe, with almond-shaped dark eyes.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.9">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.9]]*/<<notify>>+ Bold, + Impulsive<</notify>>You didn’t hold back. There was no point in pretending you weren’t completely taken by how damn good $V_heshe looked standing there, drenched in sunlight, with the last remnants of summer resting in the curve of $V_hisher excited smile. Your voice dropped into something deeper, richer, as you leaned in just slightly, letting your gaze linger on $V_himher for a second longer than usual.
“I don’t know," you murmured, voice laced with a bit more edge, more confidence than you’d felt moments ago, “but I think you’d look really good in a stola."
The effect was immediate. $V_name blinked once, twice, before $V_hisher eyes flew wide open, utterly blindsided by your sudden flirty tone. $V_HisHer mouth opened slightly, as if to respond, but no sound came out—just a sort of stunned silence. You could practically see the flush racing up $V_hisher cheeks, blooming dark as $V_heshe tried to process what you had just said.
“Wh-what?” $V_heshe stammered, voice cracking just a little as $V_heshe stared at you, utterly flustered. $V_HisHer hands fidgeted, reaching up to hold the metal cross hung around $V_hisher neck and then relaxing as $V_heshe shifted uncomfortably, like $V_heshe had suddenly forgotten how to act normal in your presence. “You can’t suddenly just say stuff like that—!”
But you weren’t sorry. In fact, you smiled, watching the way $V_heshe nearly unraveled before you. “Why not?” you asked, your voice light and teasing. “It’s true, isn’t it?”
$V_HeShe blinked again, speechless. You couldn’t help but feel victorious as $V_heshe tried and failed to hide the dark flush that now painted $V_hisher entire face.
“I—uh—” $V_heshe stammered again, clearly flustered beyond belief, rubbing $V_hisher other hand across $V_hisher cheek in an attempt to cool down. $V_HeShe soon starts muttering under $V_hisher breath: “No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability.”
You sounded thoroughly amused as you asked, “I’m sorry, what was that?”
“I have to go!” $V_name squeaked out before making a beeline for the Greek and Roman Studies booth, leaving you more intrigued than anything.
$M_name, who up until this point had been talking to the guy in the Philosophy Club booth, started walking toward you with a small smile. “So, have you decided on anything yet?”
Before you could answer $M_himher, a small <em>ping!</em> interrupted you, making $M_himher glance down at $M_hisher phone, $M_hisher expression shifting from relaxed to serious. “I’ve got to go. Looks like I’m being summoned," $M_heshe muttered, stuffing the phone into $M_hisher pocket with a barely-contained sigh.
You had no time to question anything as you noticed $M_name glancing over your shoulder. You turned, following $M_hisher gaze to where a reasonably tall blonde was making her way through the crowd, moving with a kind of mission, as though the space around her was meant to part for her presence. She wore a custom tailored maroon blazer, the rich, dark fabric setting off her porcelain skin. A straight burgundy skirt grazed her knees, and her platinum blonde hair, unnaturally cool against the rosy undertone of her skin, was pulled back in a sleek ponytail. Her features were haughty, almost severe, with almond-shaped dark eyes.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.9">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.9]]*/<<notify>>+ Pragmatic<</notify>>It’s not complete disinterest, just an acceptance of $V_hisher choice without much fanfare.
“It seems like your kind of thing anyway,” you glanced around at the other booths, letting your eyes roam across the sea of options, the energy of the fair starting to buzz in your veins again. “Sounds like a lot of reading though."
$V_name pauses for a moment, watching your reaction closely, but ultimately smiles back. “Yeah, I… guess so. I kind of like the reading part though.”
You nodded, not fully invested in the conversation. “Well, as long as you’re into it." You gave a half-smile before letting your attention wander again, your thoughts already drifting toward the next booth that caught your eye.
$V_name seemed to sense your lack of enthusiasm, and though $V_heshe didn’t say anything, $V_hisher smile dimmed slightly, a quiet retreat into $V_himself as $V_heshe eventually took a deep breath and walked to the Greek and Roman Studies booth without another word.
$M_name, who up until this point had been talking to the guy in the Philosophy Club booth, started walking toward you with a small smile. “So, have you decided on anything yet?”
Before you could answer $M_himher, a small <em>ping!</em> interrupted you, making $M_himher glance down at $M_hisher phone, $M_hisher expression shifting from relaxed to serious. “I’ve got to go. Looks like I’m being summoned," $M_heshe muttered, stuffing the phone into $M_hisher pocket with a barely-contained sigh.
You had no time to question anything as you noticed $M_name glancing over your shoulder. You turned, following $M_hisher gaze to where a reasonably tall blonde was making her way through the crowd, moving with a kind of mission, as though the space around her was meant to part for her presence. She wore a custom tailored maroon blazer, the rich, dark fabric setting off her porcelain skin. A straight burgundy skirt grazed her knees, and her platinum blonde hair, unnaturally cool against the rosy undertone of her skin, was pulled back in a sleek ponytail. Her features were haughty, almost severe, with almond-shaped dark eyes.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.9">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.9]]*/<<notify>>+ Shy<</notify>>The light spilled over $V_hisher skin, casting a golden hue over everything, and for a moment, you were sure the air felt warmer, like September had been waiting for this very second to give way to the remnants of summer. Oh, fuck. Maybe you’d gone full-on masochist mode because feeling all warm and fuzzy about someone who had strangled you (albeit not while they were in their right mind) wasn’t exactly what a sane person would call normal.
And yet, there was something about the way $V_hisher brown eyes radiated warmth—something like sunlight filtering through the trees on a late afternoon, soft and steady, with a pull that was almost magnetic. It was impossible to look away. The curls of $V_hisher hair, tousled and framing $V_hisher face, seemed to catch the light in a way that made it look like a halo. A fucking halo. Like $V_heshe was something more than human for a brief moment, standing there oblivious to the effect $V_heshe was having on you. It left you tongue-tied in the worst, most frustrating way possible.
Your heart stuttered as you bit your lip, eyes tracing the soft curve of their profile. The silence was suddenly heavier than it had been before, thick with things unsaid and things you were suddenly dying to say, but couldn’t quite bring yourself to.
You didn’t really know if the universe was looking out for you or not, because right when you were about to open your mouth and say something which would make you want to stab yourself with a sword from the fencing club, $V_name had walked away over to the Greek and Roman Studies booth in almost a giddy trance.
$M_name, who up until this point had been talking to the guy in the Philosophy Club booth, started walking toward you with a small smile. “So, have you decided on anything yet?”
Before you could answer $M_himher, a small <em>ping!</em> interrupted you, making $M_himher glance down at $M_hisher phone, $M_hisher expression shifting from relaxed to serious. “I’ve got to go. Looks like I’m being summoned," $M_heshe muttered, stuffing the phone into $M_hisher pocket with a barely-contained sigh.
You had no time to question anything as you noticed $M_name glancing over your shoulder. You turned, following $M_hisher gaze to where a reasonably tall blonde was making her way through the crowd, moving with a kind of mission, as though the space around her was meant to part for her presence. She wore a custom tailored maroon blazer, the rich, dark fabric setting off her porcelain skin. A straight burgundy skirt grazed her knees, and her platinum blonde hair, unnaturally cool against the rosy undertone of her skin, was pulled back in a sleek ponytail. Her features were haughty, almost severe, with almond-shaped dark eyes.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.9">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.9]]*/<<notify>>+ Bold, + Impulsive<</notify>>You didn’t hold back. There was no point in pretending you weren’t completely taken by how damn good $V_heshe looked standing there, drenched in sunlight, with the last remnants of summer resting in the curve of $V_hisher excited smile. Your voice dropped into something deeper, richer, as you leaned in just slightly, letting your gaze linger on $V_himher for a second longer than usual.
“I don’t know," you murmured, voice laced with a bit more edge, more confidence than you’d felt moments ago, “but I think you’d look really good in a toga."
The effect was immediate. $V_name blinked once, twice, before $V_hisher eyes flew wide open, utterly blindsided by your sudden flirty tone. $V_HisHer mouth opened slightly, as if to respond, but no sound came out—just a sort of stunned silence. You could practically see the flush racing up $V_hisher cheeks, blooming dark as $V_heshe tried to process what you had just said.
“Wh-what?” $V_heshe stammered, voice cracking just a little as $V_heshe stared at you, utterly flustered. $V_HisHer hands fidgeted, reaching up to hold the metal cross hung around $V_hisher neck and then relaxing as $V_heshe shifted uncomfortably, like $V_heshe had suddenly forgotten how to act normal in your presence. “You can’t suddenly just say stuff like that—!”
But you weren’t sorry. In fact, you smiled, watching the way $V_heshe nearly unraveled before you. “Why not?” you asked, your voice light and teasing. “It’s true, isn’t it?”
$V_HeShe blinked again, speechless. You couldn’t help but feel victorious as $V_heshe tried and failed to hide the dark flush that now painted $V_hisher entire face.
“I—uh—” $V_heshe stammered again, clearly flustered beyond belief, rubbing $V_hisher other hand across $V_hisher cheek in an attempt to cool down. $V_HeShe soon starts muttering under $V_hisher breath: “No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability.”
You sounded thoroughly amused as you asked, “I’m sorry, what was that?”
“I have to go!” $V_name squeaked out before making a beeline for the Greek and Roman Studies booth, leaving you more intrigued than anything.
$M_name, who up until this point had been talking to the guy in the Philosophy Club booth, started walking toward you with a small smile. “So, have you decided on anything yet?”
Before you could answer $M_himher, a small <em>ping!</em> interrupted you, making $M_himher glance down at $M_hisher phone, $M_hisher expression shifting from relaxed to serious. “I’ve got to go. Looks like I’m being summoned," $M_heshe muttered, stuffing the phone into $M_hisher pocket with a barely-contained sigh.
You had no time to question anything as you noticed $M_name glancing over your shoulder. You turned, following $M_hisher gaze to where a reasonably tall blonde was making her way through the crowd, moving with a kind of mission, as though the space around her was meant to part for her presence. She wore a custom tailored maroon blazer, the rich, dark fabric setting off her porcelain skin. A straight burgundy skirt grazed her knees, and her platinum blonde hair, unnaturally cool against the rosy undertone of her skin, was pulled back in a sleek ponytail. Her features were haughty, almost severe, with almond-shaped dark eyes.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.9">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.9]]*/<<notify>>Saved!<</notify>>She reached you both, her gaze quickly dismissing you as it snapped to $M_name. “There you are. What do you think you’re doing?” Her accent was hard to place, a peculiar mixture of American and Australian. “Professor Carstairs is looking for you. And I mean right now.”
$M_name furrowed $M_hisher brow. “But it’s my day off.”
“It was,” the blonde replied curtly, narrowing her eyes. “But things change. You’re coming with me.”
<<if $Arrogant gt $Humble>>Then, as if noticing you for the first time, she glanced you up and down in one sweeping, critical look, her lips curving into a faint, displeased line. The gesture wasn’t exactly disdainful, but close enough to make you feel irrelevant in the moment which made you bristle in indignance.
She exhaled, a sharp, exasperated sound and turned to $M_name. “Follow me. Quickly.”<<else>>Then, as if noticing you for the first time, she glanced you up and down in one sweeping, critical look, her lips curving into a faint, displeased line. The gesture wasn’t exactly disdainful, but close enough to make you feel irrelevant in the moment which made you cock your head in confusion.
She exhaled, a sharp, exasperated sound and turned to $M_name. “Follow me. Quickly.”<</if>>
$M_name shot you an apologetic look but nodded toward the blonde, the weight of whatever message $M_heshe had received making $M_himher too resigned to argue. Without waiting for another word, the stranger turned on her heel and strode off, expecting $M_himher to follow with no further complaints.
As they moved away, you were left there with a confused frown as you tried to make sense of why you were suddenly having an innate feeling that there was something off about that interaction.
You shook your head, trying to shake the strange unease that had settled at the back of your mind.
The noise of the fair seemed to swell around you, students' voices mixing with the sounds of music, laughter, and the occasional clatter of equipment. It didn’t take long before the booths began to blur together—each one beckoning you toward a different world. But then, like a thread being pulled taut, you felt a soft tug somewhere deep in your gut. It was something unnameable, instinctual, as though your body knew what it wanted before your mind caught up, and you let yourself be swept toward—
<<if $Music>>*[[—the music booths|Music Booths]]<</if>><<if $Dance>>*[[—the dance booths|Dance Booths]]<</if>><<if $Sports>>*[[—the sports booths|Sports Booths]]<</if>><<if $Technology>>*[[—the technology booths|Tech Booths]]<</if>><<if $SocialSkills>>*[[—the social skills booths|Social Skills Booths]]<</if>>Then you heard it—a soft melody drifting from a cluster of music booths tucked to the side, almost hidden by the noise of the main event. The notes were imperfect but soulful, a mix of guitar chords and hushed vocals that seemed to carry a different kind of energy than the rest of the fair. You wandered toward it, intrigued, until—
“Hey, you," a voice cut through the sound, startling you.
You turned to find a guy with shoulder-length hair standing just a few feet away. His dark, unruly waves framed a tanned, handsome face with high cheekbones and a crooked grin that gave him an air of effortless cool. He could’ve walked straight out of a faded photograph of Jeff Buckley, from the casual slouch to the soulful eyes that seemed to size you up with quiet curiosity.
“You play?" he asked, gesturing toward the instruments on display amongst the music-related booths. His voice was raspy, like someone who smoked too much or stayed up all night talking and screaming.
*[[“Maybe," you said, raising an eyebrow. “Depends on who's asking."|Music 1.1][$Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[You tilted your head, grinning casually. “Yeah, I play. What’s up?”|Music 1.2][$Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100); $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[You chuckled, eyes flicking to the instruments before meeting his gaze again. “What, you can’t tell just by looking at me?”|Music 1.3][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[You kept your tone even, giving a small nod. “I do. What about it?”|Music 1.4][$Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[You nodded, offering a small, honest smile. “Yeah, I’ve been playing for a while now.”|Music 1.5][$Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[You smirked, crossing your arms. “I don’t just play. I’m pretty good at it, actually.”|Music 1.6][$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[You hesitated for a moment before nodding slightly. “Yeah, I play a little… nothing too serious, though.”|Music 1.7][$Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100)]]You let your feet guide you, drifting through the swirling energy of the fair, until you found yourself in front of the dance booths. The space here felt different—more focused, quieter, but charged with a rhythmic sort of intensity. A low hum of music floated through the air, the kind that prickled at your skin and called to something deeper inside you. You hadn’t consciously planned on stopping, but now that you were here, you couldn’t seem to tear yourself away.
There were smaller groups of students gathered here, more serious in their conversations. You could see dancers stretching, chatting, practicing small routines off to the side. Their movements were fluid and precise, their bodies bending and twisting with ease, as if the concept of physics had less of a hold on them.
One booth stood out among the rest. The name Terpsichore was printed in golden letters and elegant calligraphy on a dark banner, shimmering faintly in the late afternoon light. There was an air of exclusivity about the setup—nothing ostentatious, but something in the poised way the students at the booth carried themselves made it clear this wasn’t just any casual dance group. No flashy posters, no gaudy signs—just the name itself, like it was already enough. And in some ways, it definitely was.
As you approached, you noticed the booth wasn’t crowded like the others. Just a few people lingering at the edges, trying to work up the nerve to step forward. The sign-up sheets were neat, organized, a few names scrawled across the lines in varying handwriting. It was a surprisingly short list and you also noticed there were only two freshmen there.
Whispers had already spread on online dance forums about the level of competition involved in joining Terpsichore. They didn’t just perform at Yale; they went head-to-head with other universities across the US, and even competed at national and international levels. This was the highest stage for anyone serious about dance next to Kairos and INSYNQ (not to be confused with NSYNC, and yes there was a lawsuit which NYU ended up winning) from The Juilliard School and NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts respectively.
You’d come across them during your obsessive research into Yale before arriving, their name splashed across a New York Times article, headlining some feature about the arts scene in the Americas. Their performances were diverse and legendary—precise, fluid, almost otherworldly. It was a dream you never quite allowed yourself to have.
And standing at the helm of it all was Alison Montjane.
She caught your eye before you even reached the booth, as though she had been waiting for you, sensing you even from a distance. She stood tall and poised, her dusky brown frame athletic but delicate at the same time, her dark brown eyes assessing. Her reputation preceded her—the <em>choragus</em> (lead dancer and co-choreographer) of <em>Terpsichore</em>, a senior with an air of quiet authority and grace. She moved like water, a natural fluidity in the way she turned her head to look at you, and for a moment you were struck by the sheer ease with which she held herself.
“You look like you're thinking about it," she said, her voice soft but carrying over the noise with a distinct South African accent. There was a slight smile on her lips, one that suggested she already knew the answer to the question she was about to ask.
*[[You hesitated, feeling a slight flutter of nerves.|Dance 1.1][$Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[You gave her a small smile, trying to match her easy energy.|Dance 1.2][$Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[You met her gaze calmly, your expression unreadable.|Dance 1.3][$Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[You let out a light chuckle, raising an eyebrow.|Dance 1.4][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[You nodded, feeling a bit caught off guard but appreciating her straightforwardness.|Dance 1.5][$Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[You straightened your shoulders, smirking slightly.|Dance 1.6][$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[You shrugged casually, offering her a lopsided grin.|Dance 1.7][$Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[You straightened up, feeling the weight of her gaze.|Dance 1.8][$Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100)]]At first glance, there was nothing particularly special about them. Just a row of tables decked out with jerseys and trophies, team captains leaning back in folding chairs, trying to look cool while they subtly scoped out potential recruits. You could see the usual suspects: soccer, lacrosse, rowing—each group radiating a kind of laid-back confidence. Some tables had clusters of people already chatting up the team members, trying to get a feel for what they were signing up for, but there was one booth, off to the side, that felt… different.
It wasn’t loud, not like the others. There were no boisterous shouts or people throwing footballs back and forth to grab attention. It was quieter, almost understated, but it had this strange magnetism that drew you in. A banner fluttered gently in the breeze:
<<if $MC_gender is "non-binary">>
<ul><<if $IceSkating>><li>[[Yale Figure Skating]]</li><</if>>
<<if $Swimming>><li><<message 'Yale Swimming & Diving'>>\
<ul><li>[[Men’s Swimming & Diving]]</li>
<li>[[Women’s Swimming & Diving]]</li></ul><</message>></li><</if>>
<<if $IceHockey>><li><<message 'Yale Ice Hockey'>>\
<ul><li>[[Men’s Ice Hockey]]</li>
<li>[[Women’s Ice Hockey]]</li></ul><</message>></li><</if>>
<<if $Soccer>><li><<message 'Yale Soccer'>>\
<ul><li>[[Men’s Soccer]]</li>
<li>[[Women’s Soccer]]</li></ul><</message>></li><</if>></ul>
<<elseif $MC_gender is "cisgender male" or $MC_gender is "transgender male">>
<ul><<if $IceSkating>><li>[[Yale Figure Skating]]</li><</if>>
<<if $Swimming>><li>[[Yale Men’s Swimming & Diving|Men’s Swimming & Diving]]</li><</if>>
<<if $IceHockey>><li>[[Yale Men’s Ice Hockey|Men’s Ice Hockey]]</li><</if>>
<<if $Soccer>><li>[[Yale Men’s Soccer|Men’s Soccer]]</li><</if>></ul>
<<else>>
<ul><<if $IceSkating>><li>[[Yale Figure Skating]]</li><</if>>
<<if $Swimming>><li>[[Yale Women’s Swimming & Diving|Women’s Swimming & Diving]]</li><</if>>
<<if $IceHockey>><li>[[Yale Women’s Ice Hockey|Women’s Ice Hockey]]</li><</if>>
<<if $Soccer>><li>[[Yale Women’s Soccer|Women’s Soccer]]</li><</if>></ul><</if>>Fliers were thrust toward you, students standing behind tables rattling off lists of reasons you should join, hands gesturing toward complex displays that tried to summarize their passions into a neat package. It was overwhelming, all these possibilities laid out before you, but somehow none of them quite felt like yours.
Then, you saw it.
Tucked a little farther from the more glamorous or art-focused booths, you spotted the technology section. A banner overhead proudly declared the presence of the Innovatech Initiative—a name that instantly sparked recognition. You’d heard of them from WIRED and TechCrunch, and they were one of the most prestigious student-led tech organizations in North America, known for their groundbreaking work in robotics, programming, and all things engineering. They had a reputation for new ideas, not just within Yale but beyond it. Membership wasn’t just an extracurricular—it was a pathway to internships, to connections in Silicon Valley, to cutting-edge projects that would never see the light of day in a normal classroom.
At the center of the booth stood a robot—aluminum, partially constructed, but obviously stuck mid-function. Around it were several students in various stages of frustration. A few were huddled together in heated conversation, arms crossed, gesturing wildly at a screen displaying lines of code. Several of the members were arguing, their voices overlapping, frustration crackling in the air. As you approached, you could make out a few words—<em>circuits, code, alignment</em>—and that tug in your gut became stronger. You also caught snippets of their conversations.
<em>“It’s not the circuit board, I’m telling you—"
“No, the operating system is fine, it’s the motor drive. It’s been overheating for days!"
“But we swapped it out, remember? That can’t be the problem anymore—"</em>
One guy, tall and broad-shouldered, with a slight furrow in his brow, was crouched next to the robot, turning a tiny screwdriver in his hands as he peered into its exposed mechanical insides.
He then stood up abruptly, running a hand through his thick dark brown hair. He was buff—built like someone who spent as much time in the gym as in the lab—and he exuded an air of authority that felt unforced, natural. His name tag read <em>Michael Rivera, President</em>.
“It’s like it just... died," Michael muttered, half to himself, half to the group around him. His fingers drummed against the surface, as if itching to fix the problem but unsure where to start. “There’s no way this wiring should’ve caused a short, not with the way it’s set up. Maybe it’s the code?”
You edged closer, watching as they debated furiously, a combination of frustration and confusion etched on their faces. The conversation was rapid-fire, slipping in and out of technical jargon—<em>CPU load, sensor calibration, algorithmic loops</em>—before circling back to the same conclusion: no one had a clue why the robot wasn’t responding.
For a moment, you considered walking away. You were only curious, after all, not intending to get involved. But something held you there. You caught a glance of the code on the screen, recognized some of the components they were struggling with—lines of Python written in a way that felt familiar, patterns of logic you’d seen before in your own work. You squinted, half-wondering if you were imagining it.
*[[Then, before you knew it, the words slipped out: “It’s not the code.”|Tech 1.1][$Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100), $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[You leaned in slightly, offering a small smile. “I think you might be looking at the wrong part.”|Tech 1.2][$Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[You kept your tone neutral, offering an observation without much emotion. “It’s not the code. Something else is wrong here.”|Tech 1.3][$Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[You raised an eyebrow, your tone dry. “Yeah, because it’s definitely always the code, right?”|Tech 1.4][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[You spoke honestly, not trying to overthink it. “It’s not the code, I think the problem’s somewhere else.”|Tech 1.5][$Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[You smirked slightly, crossing your arms. “It’s not the code. Pretty obvious, isn’t it?”|Tech 1.6][$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[You hesitated before offering your insight quietly. “I don’t think it’s the code. Maybe something else is off?”|Tech 1.7][$Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[You glanced around, choosing your words carefully. “I’m not entirely sure, but... I don’t think the issue is with the code.”|Tech 1.8][$Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious + 3, 0, 100), $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive - 3, 0, 100)]]You found yourself standing in front of a booth that was distinctly different from the others. A polished, sleek banner read Yale Model United Nations in blue letters, and a handful of students, well-dressed and deeply engrossed in conversation, stood in a circle around a table littered with notebooks, pens, and printouts of resolutions and global policies.
At the center of the group stood a girl, her presence magnetic. She wore a navy blazer over a tailored blouse, but what stood out was the burgundy hijab wrapped elegantly around her head, framing her beige skin. Her eyes were dark and focused, her expression serene despite the heated discussion taking place around her. A nametag hung from her neck, neat blocky blue typography reading: Yasmina Lestari, President.
You hovered at the edge of the group, uncertain but curious. They were mid-debate, something about sanctions and humanitarian aid, the specifics blurring together as you listened, catching fragments of their argument.
“The sanctions are justified if the regime refuses to comply with international law," one student said, crossing his arms.
“But you can’t justify the harm it causes to civilians who are completely innocent," someone else countered, leaning forward with palpable frustration. “The humanitarian cost is too high. Sanctions often backfire, pushing the government to become even more authoritarian."
Yasmina raised a hand, silencing the debate with a gesture that seemed almost effortless. Her voice was calm, measured.
“Both points are valid," she said smoothly. “But we’re forgetting the broader context here. Sanctions aren’t just about economic pressure—they’re political leverage. What’s the end goal? What are we trying to achieve with this? Until we define that, we’re going around in circles."
She was good, you realized. The kind of person who could cut through chaos with logic, someone who wielded authority not through volume but through actions to back their words. You felt a surge of admiration, almost envy. It was the kind of analytical attitude you admired from a distance, uncertain if you could ever embody it completely yourself.
Just as you were about to step back, maybe blend into the crowd and leave them to their world, Yasmina’s gaze shifted to you. For a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed, like her attention was a spotlight that illuminated you, cutting through the anonymity that the crowd had provided you with.
“You there," she said, her voice ringing with clarity. “You’ve been listening, I presume? What’s your take on this?"
The others turned toward you as well, their expressions ranging from curious to skeptical. It felt like you’d just been called out by a professor in the middle of a lecture you hadn’t studied for. But there was no escaping it now.
*[[You had to take a more pragmatic approach to this.|Social 1.1][$Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic + 3, 0, 100), $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[The emotions pour out with your words before you can stop them.|Social 1.2][$Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional + 3, 0, 100); $Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[You couldn't help but smirk before speaking, confident that you knew the answer better than anyone here.|Social 1.3][$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[You had to give your thoughts a shot, even if you weren't sure they'd be right.|Social 1.4][$Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[You can’t keep the irony from your voice as you prepare to lay out your answer.|Social 1.5][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[You met everyone's gaze and spoke from a place of honesty, hoping to offer something real.|Social 1.6][$Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100)]]<<notify>>+ Uptight<</notify>>He grinned wider and stepped closer, extending a hand. “I'm Julian. I play guitar for The Vignettes. We’re an indie-slash-alternative band looking to move into more experimental directions. We’re looking for a new member." He looked you up and down, his hazel eyes roving over you with quiet calculation. “Something tells me you could be a fit."
You raised an eyebrow, feeling defensive. “You don’t even know if I’d be interested. I have standards.”
Julian shrugged, his grin unwavering. “Fair enough, but I think you’d surprise yourself. So, what do you play?"
You glanced at the assortment of instruments around you and felt the weight of his attention. You could feel the pressure mounting, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “A little bit of everything, but I mainly…”
<<if $Guitar>>*[[… play guitar.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Piano>>*[[… play piano.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Violin>>*[[… play violin.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Cello>>*[[… play cello.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Saxophone>>*[[… play saxophone.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Drums>>*[[… play drums.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $VoiceLessons>>*[[… do vocals.|Vocals]]<</if>><<notify>>+ Sarcastic<</notify>>He grinned wider and stepped closer, extending a hand. “I'm Julian. I play guitar for The Vignettes. We’re an indie-slash-alternative band looking to move into more experimental directions. We’re looking for a new member." He looked you up and down, his hazel eyes roving over you with quiet calculation. “Something tells me you could be a fit."
You raised an eyebrow, a smirk on your lips. “You’re really good at guessing, huh? What if I play the triangle? Does that fit your ‘experimental’ sound?”
Julian shrugged, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “Call it a hunch. So, what do you actually play?"
You glanced at the assortment of instruments around you and felt the weight of his attention. You could feel the pressure mounting, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “A little bit of everything, but I mainly…”
<<if $Guitar>>*[[… play guitar.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Piano>>*[[… play piano.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Violin>>*[[… play violin.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Cello>>*[[… play cello.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Saxophone>>*[[… play saxophone.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Drums>>*[[… play drums.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $VoiceLessons>>*[[… do vocals.|Vocals]]<</if>><<notify>>+ Aloof<</notify>>He grinned wider and stepped closer, extending a hand. “I'm Julian. I play guitar for The Vignettes. We’re an indie-slash-alternative band looking to move into more experimental directions. We’re looking for a new member." He looked you up and down, his hazel eyes roving over you with quiet calculation. “Something tells me you could be a fit."
You met his gaze steadily, replying with a calm nod. “I suppose.”
Julian shrugged, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “Not much of a talker, eh? That’s fine. So, what do you play?"
You glanced at the assortment of instruments around you and felt the weight of his attention. You could feel the pressure mounting, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “A little bit of everything, but I mainly…”
<<if $Guitar>>*[[… play guitar.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Piano>>*[[… play piano.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Violin>>*[[… play violin.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Cello>>*[[… play cello.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Saxophone>>*[[… play saxophone.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Drums>>*[[… play drums.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $VoiceLessons>>*[[… do vocals.|Vocals]]<</if>><<notify>>+ Genuine<</notify>>He grinned wider and stepped closer, extending a hand. “I'm Julian Celentano. I play guitar for The Vignettes. We’re an indie-slash-alternative band looking to move into more experimental directions. We’re looking for a new member." He looked you up and down, his hazel eyes roving over you with quiet calculation. “Something tells me you could be a fit."
You smiled genuinely, feeling a rush of excitement. “I do like creating music. I’d love to know more about your band.”
Julian shrugged, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “That’s the spirit. But first, what do you play?"
You glanced at the assortment of instruments around you and felt the weight of his attention. You could feel the pressure mounting, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “A little bit of everything, but I mainly…”
<<if $Guitar>>*[[… play guitar.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Piano>>*[[… play piano.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Violin>>*[[… play violin.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Cello>>*[[… play cello.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Saxophone>>*[[… play saxophone.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Drums>>*[[… play drums.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $VoiceLessons>>*[[… do vocals.|Vocals]]<</if>><<notify>>+ Arrogant<</notify>>He grinned wider and stepped closer, extending a hand. “I'm Julian. I play guitar for The Vignettes. We’re an indie-slash-alternative band looking to move into more experimental directions. We’re looking for a new member." He looked you up and down, his hazel eyes roving over you with quiet calculation. “Something tells me you could be a fit."
You smirked, your confidence shining through. “I guess that’s not surprising, is it? You can tell just by looking at me.”
Julian chuckled, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “I like your confidence. So, what do you play?"
You glanced at the assortment of instruments around you and felt the weight of his attention. You could feel the pressure mounting, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “A little bit of everything, but I mainly…”
<<if $Guitar>>*[[… play guitar.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Piano>>*[[… play piano.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Violin>>*[[… play violin.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Cello>>*[[… play cello.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Saxophone>>*[[… play saxophone.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Drums>>*[[… play drums.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $VoiceLessons>>*[[… do vocals.|Vocals]]<</if>><<notify>>+ Humble<</notify>>He grinned wider and stepped closer, extending a hand. “I'm Julian. I play guitar for The Vignettes. We’re an indie-slash-alternative band looking to move into more experimental directions. We’re looking for a new member." He looked you up and down, his hazel eyes roving over you with quiet calculation. “Something tells me you could be a fit."
You tilted your head slightly, intrigued. “You don't even know if I’d be musically inclined."
Julian shrugged, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “Call it a hunch. So, what do you play?"
You glanced at the assortment of instruments around you and felt the weight of his attention. You could feel the pressure mounting, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “A little bit of everything, but I mainly…”
<<if $Guitar>>*[[… play guitar.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Piano>>*[[… play piano.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Violin>>*[[… play violin.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Cello>>*[[… play cello.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Saxophone>>*[[… play saxophone.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Drums>>*[[… play drums.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $VoiceLessons>>*[[… do vocals.|Vocals]]<</if>><<notify>>+ Laidback<</notify>>He grinned wider and stepped closer, extending a hand. “I'm Julian. I play guitar for The Vignettes. We’re an indie-slash-alternative band looking to move into more experimental directions. We’re looking for a new member." He looked you up and down, his hazel eyes roving over you with quiet calculation. “Something tells me you could be a fit."
You shrugged casually, tilting your head. “Sounds interesting. But you don't even know if I’d want to join.”
Julian shrugged, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “Call it a hunch. So, what do you play?"
You glanced at the assortment of instruments around you and felt the weight of his attention. You could feel the pressure mounting, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “A little bit of everything, but I mainly…”
<<if $Guitar>>*[[… play guitar.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Piano>>*[[… play piano.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Violin>>*[[… play violin.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Cello>>*[[… play cello.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Saxophone>>*[[… play saxophone.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $Drums>>*[[… play drums.|Instrument]]<</if>><<if $VoiceLessons>>*[[… do vocals.|Vocals]]<</if>>His eyes lit up instantly.
“Perfect," Julian said, nodding like the pieces were falling into place. He motioned for you to follow him. “C’mon, meet the rest of the band. We’re practicing over there." He pointed toward a more secluded corner of the quad, where a group of students sat with their instruments, casually chatting and tuning up. The band seemed laid-back but focused, with an air of camaraderie that was instantly appealing.
As you approached, they all looked up. There were three of them—a girl with pale pink hair on bass, a brunette with braids on drums, and a sandy blonde-haired person fiddling with a keyboard. Each of them gave you a once-over, but it wasn’t unfriendly. If anything, they looked intrigued.
“Guys, this is..." Julian paused, waiting for you to fill in your name.
“$MC_firstname $MC_surname,” you introduced yourself, the drummer nodded, her sticks tapping lightly on her leg in an unconscious rhythm.
“I’m Mavis," she said, her voice laid-back and gravelly. “That’s Niamh on bass, and Eli on keys. Our vocalist’s not here right now, but we could definitely use another pair of hands on the proverbial deck."
Niamh, the bassist, gave you an appraising nod. “What’s your instrument?" she asked. Her tone was casual but direct, like she was trying to get a feel for you.
You gave them the same answer as you gave Julian, and Eli jotted down your name on a flier with their band logo—the band name’s initials in the style of two old-fashioned silhouettes, like something out of a ‘90s MTV show. They handed you the paper, flashing a grin. “Cool. We’ve got an audition next week. You should definitely come by. We’d love to see what you can do."
You felt that same pull again, that familiar flicker of excitement whenever you were on the verge of something new. You took the flier from Eli and folded it properly.
“I’ll think about it," you said, but there was already a part of you that knew you’d be there.
Julian shot you one last crooked grin, his eyes glinting with an unspoken sort of giddiness. “We’ll be waiting."
As you turned to leave, the music from their instruments began to rise again, the melody of ‘Heaven or Las Vegas’ by Cocteau Twins curling through the air like smoke. You felt it linger long after you had left, staying in the atmosphere like a pleasant perfume.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.10]]*/His eyes lit up instantly, something mischievous glinting in them.
“Perfect," Julian said, nodding like the pieces were falling into place. He motioned for you to follow him. “C’mon, meet the rest of the band. We’re practicing over there." He pointed toward a more secluded corner of the quad, where a group of students sat with their instruments, casually chatting and tuning up. The band seemed laid-back but focused, with an air of camaraderie that was instantly appealing.
As you approached, they all looked up. There were three of them—a girl on bass, another on drums, and someone fiddling with a keyboard. Each of them gave you a once-over, but it wasn’t unfriendly. If anything, they looked intrigued.
“Guys, this is..." Julian paused, waiting for you to fill in your name.
“$MC_firstname,” you introduced yourself, the drummer nodded, her sticks tapping lightly on her leg in an unconscious rhythm.
“I’m Mavis," she said, her voice gravelly. “That’s Niamh on bass, and Eli on keys. Our vocalist’s not here right now, but we could definitely use another pair of hands on the proverbial deck."
Niamh, the bassist, gave you an appraising nod. “What’s your instrument?" she asked. Her tone was casual but direct, like she was trying to get a feel for you.
You hesitated for a beat before responding. “I mostly do vocals."
You half-expected a dismissive shrug, but instead, Niamh paused, sharing a quick glance with the other band members. There was something unsaid in that look, like they’d just stumbled upon something unexpected.
Mavis raised an eyebrow. “Vocals, huh? Interesting..." She exchanged a peculiar look with Julian, and you could practically feel the shift in the air.
Eli, the keyboardist, leaned in slightly, a spark of interest dancing in their green eyes. “We’ve been looking for a co-vocalist since our lead one’s a huge mess. Talented, no doubt, but still messy. You’ve got timing on your side."
“We’re holding auditions next week," Julian added, his voice quieter but no less excited. “You should definitely come by." There was something almost electric in his expression now, like he could already picture you on stage with them. “We’d love to hear what you’ve got."
You felt that same pull again, that familiar flicker of excitement whenever you were on the verge of something new. You took the flier from Julian, their band name—The Vignettes—printed in dark, bold lettering across the top.
“I’ll think about it," you said, but there was already a part of you that knew you’d be there.
Julian shot you one last crooked grin, his eyes glinting with an unspoken sort of giddiness. “We’ll be waiting."
As you turned to leave, the music from their instruments began to rise again, the melody of ‘Heaven or Las Vegas’ by Cocteau Twins curling through the air like smoke. You felt it linger long after you had left, staying in the atmosphere like a pleasant perfume.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.10]]*/<<notify>>+ Humble<</notify>>You’d heard about Alison. Everyone in the dance world across the globe in recent years had. She was known not only for her skill but for her exacting standards. People said she could read you the moment you stepped into a room—know your strengths, your weaknesses, what you were capable of even before you did.
“I was..." you trailed off, trying to find the right words. “I was just curious."
Alison’s smile widened, but only a fraction. She stepped out from behind the booth, moving with the same grace that defined her dancing. Her eyes flicked over you, quick and discerning, but not in a judgmental way. It was more like she was assessing your potential, seeing beyond the surface.
“Curiosity’s good," she said after a beat. “Most people don't even get that far."
You hesitated slightly as you felt a quiet surge of something between excitement and anxiety as she nodded for you to follow her, leading you away from the booth slightly, toward a more open space where a few students were practicing jumps and turns. She stopped, folded her arms, and gave you her full attention, her head tilting slightly to one side as if sizing you up.
“I’m Alison,” she told you, although she didn’t really need to, “What’s your name?”
“$MC_firstname,” you introduced yourself.
“You dance?" she asked, her voice curious but calm, no pressure behind it. She didn’t need to apply any.
“I’ve danced before, but nothing like this.” you admitted, caught somewhere between awe and nervousness.
Her gaze flickered with interest, studying you in a way that felt both casual and measured. “We all start somewhere,” she said, and you could tell from the way her words lilted that she meant it. The way she spoke felt like an interview, but not in the way that put you on edge. It was more like she was drawing something out of you, coaxing you into showing her what you were willing to. “<em>Terpsichore</em>’s always looking for new talent. What’s your background? Ballet? Contemporary? Breakdancing?”
You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of the weight of your response. “A bit of everything, but mostly…”
<<if $Ballet>>*[[… ballet.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Contemporary>>*[[… contemporary.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Lyrical>>*[[… lyrical.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Classical>>*[[… classical.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Jazz>>*[[… jazz.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Waltz>>*[[… waltz.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<notify>>+ Friendly<</notify>>You’d heard about Alison. Everyone in the dance world across the globe in recent years had. She was known not only for her skill but for her exacting standards. People said she could read you the moment you stepped into a room—know your strengths, your weaknesses, what you were capable of even before you did.
“I was curious," you said, meeting her gaze. “I’ve heard a lot about Terpsichore.”
Alison’s smile widened a little more, warm but still with that assessing quality. She stepped out from behind the booth, moving with the same grace that defined her dancing. Her eyes flicked over you, quick and discerning, but not in a judgmental way. It was more like she was assessing your potential, seeing beyond the surface.
“Curiosity’s good," she said after a beat. “Most people don't even get that far."
You hesitated slightly as you felt a quiet surge of something between excitement and anxiety as she nodded for you to follow her, leading you away from the booth slightly, toward a more open space where a few students were practicing jumps and turns. She stopped, folded her arms, and gave you her full attention, her head tilting slightly to one side as if sizing you up.
“I’m Alison,” she told you, although she didn’t really need to, “What’s your name?”
“$MC_firstname,” you introduced yourself.
“You dance?" she asked, her voice curious but calm, no pressure behind it. She didn’t need to apply any.
“I’ve danced before,” you said with a smile when she asked, “but not on this level. I’m excited to see how it all works.”
Her gaze flickered with interest, studying you in a way that felt both casual and measured. “We all start somewhere,” she said, and you could tell from the way her words lilted that she meant it. The way she spoke felt like an interview, but not in the way that put you on edge. It was more like she was drawing something out of you, coaxing you into showing her what you were willing to. “<em>Terpsichore</em>’s always looking for new talent. What’s your background? Ballet? Contemporary? Breakdancing?”
You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of the weight of your response. “A bit of everything, but mostly…”
<<if $Ballet>>*[[… ballet.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Contemporary>>*[[… contemporary.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Lyrical>>*[[… lyrical.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Classical>>*[[… classical.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Jazz>>*[[… jazz.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Waltz>>*[[… waltz.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<notify>>+ Aloof<</notify>>You’d heard about Alison. Everyone in the dance world across the globe in recent years had. She was known not only for her skill but for her exacting standards. People said she could read you the moment you stepped into a room—know your strengths, your weaknesses, what you were capable of even before you did.
“I was curious,” you replied evenly. “Just looking around.”
Alison’s smile was subtle, barely there. She stepped out from behind the booth, moving with the same grace that defined her dancing. Her eyes flicked over you, quick and discerning, but not in a judgmental way. It was more like she was assessing your potential, seeing beyond the surface.
“Curiosity’s a good place to start,” she said. “Most people don’t even let themselves feel that.”
You hesitated slightly when she nodded for you to follow her, leading you away from the booth slightly, toward a more open space where a few students were practicing jumps and turns. She stopped, folded her arms, and gave you her full attention, her head tilting slightly to one side as if sizing you up.
“I’m Alison,” she told you, although she didn’t really need to, “What’s your name?”
“$MC_firstname,” you introduced yourself.
“You dance?" she asked, her voice curious but calm, no pressure behind it. She didn’t need to apply any.
“I’ve danced, but this seems a little different.” The weight of her attention didn’t faze you; instead, you took it in stride, as though sizing each other up was part of the process.
Her gaze flickered with interest, studying you in a way that felt both casual and measured. “We all start somewhere,” she said, and you could tell from the way her words lilted that she meant it. The way she spoke felt like an interview, but not in the way that put you on edge. It was more like she was drawing something out of you, coaxing you into showing her what you were willing to. “<em>Terpsichore</em>’s always looking for new talent. What’s your background? Ballet? Contemporary? Breakdancing?”
You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of the weight of your response. “A bit of everything, but mostly…”
<<if $Ballet>>*[[… ballet.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Contemporary>>*[[… contemporary.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Lyrical>>*[[… lyrical.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Classical>>*[[… classical.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Jazz>>*[[… jazz.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Waltz>>*[[… waltz.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<notify>>+ Sarcastic<</notify>>You’d heard about Alison. Everyone in the dance world across the globe in recent years had. She was known not only for her skill but for her exacting standards. People said she could read you the moment you stepped into a room—know your strengths, your weaknesses, what you were capable of even before you did.
“Curious? Sure, let’s call it that,” you said dryly. “It’s more like window shopping.”
Alison’s smile widened just a little, and there was a flash of amusement in her eyes. She stepped out from behind the booth, moving with the same grace that defined her dancing. Her eyes flicked over you, quick and discerning, but not in a judgmental way. It was more like she was assessing your potential, seeing beyond the surface.
“Curiosity or window shopping, it’s still more than most people do,” she replied smoothly. “Most never even make it past the window.”
You hesitated slightly as she nodded for you to follow her, leading you away from the booth slightly, toward a more open space where a few students were practicing jumps and turns. She stopped, folded her arms, and gave you her full attention, her head tilting slightly to one side as if sizing you up.
“I’m Alison,” she told you, although she didn’t really need to, “What’s your name?”
“$MC_firstname,” you introduced yourself.
“You dance?" she asked, her voice curious but calm, no pressure behind it. She didn’t need to apply any.
“I’ve danced a little,” you said with a light chuckle when she asked, “but I’m no professional. Let’s hope I don’t make a fool of myself.”
Her gaze flickered with interest, studying you in a way that felt both casual and measured. “We all start somewhere,” she said, and you could tell from the way her words lilted that she meant it. The way she spoke felt like an interview, but not in the way that put you on edge. It was more like she was drawing something out of you, coaxing you into showing her what you were willing to. “<em>Terpsichore</em>’s always looking for new talent. What’s your background? Ballet? Contemporary? Breakdancing?”
You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of the weight of your response. “A bit of everything, but mostly…”
<<if $Ballet>>*[[… ballet.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Contemporary>>*[[… contemporary.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Lyrical>>*[[… lyrical.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Classical>>*[[… classical.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Jazz>>*[[… jazz.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Waltz>>*[[… waltz.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<notify>>+ Genuine<</notify>>You’d heard about Alison. Everyone in the dance world across the globe in recent years had. She was known not only for her skill but for her exacting standards. People said she could read you the moment you stepped into a room—know your strengths, your weaknesses, what you were capable of even before you did.
“Yeah, I was curious,” you admitted honestly. “It’s hard not to be with what I’ve heard about Terpsichore.”
Alison’s smile softened, just a bit. She stepped out from behind the booth, moving with the same grace that defined her dancing. Her eyes flicked over you, quick and discerning, but not in a judgmental way. It was more like she was assessing your potential, seeing beyond the surface.
“Curiosity’s the first step,” she said after a beat. “Most people don’t even let themselves get that far.”
You hesitated slightly as you felt a quiet surge of something between excitement and anxiety as she nodded for you to follow her, leading you away from the booth slightly, toward a more open space where a few students were practicing jumps and turns. She stopped, folded her arms, and gave you her full attention, her head tilting slightly to one side as if sizing you up.
“I’m Alison,” she told you, although she didn’t really need to. “What’s your name?”
“$MC_firstname,” you introduced yourself.
“You dance?" she asked, her voice searching but calm, no pressure behind it. She didn’t need to apply any.
“Yeah, I’ve danced before, but nothing on this scale,” you said earnestly when she asked. “I’m curious to see if I can keep up.”
Her gaze flickered with interest, studying you in a way that felt both casual and measured. “We all start somewhere,” she said, and you could tell from the way her words lilted that she meant it. The way she spoke felt like an interview, but not in the way that put you on edge. It was more like she was drawing something out of you, coaxing you into showing her what you were willing to. “<em>Terpsichore</em>’s always looking for new talent. What’s your background? Ballet? Contemporary? Breakdancing?”
You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of the weight of your response. “A bit of everything, but mostly…”
<<if $Ballet>>*[[… ballet.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Contemporary>>*[[… contemporary.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Lyrical>>*[[… lyrical.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Classical>>*[[… classical.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Jazz>>*[[… jazz.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Waltz>>*[[… waltz.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<notify>>+ Arrogant<</notify>>You’d heard about Alison. Everyone in the dance world across the globe in recent years had. She was known not only for her skill but for her exacting standards. People said she could read you the moment you stepped into a room—know your strengths, your weaknesses, what you were capable of even before you did.
“Curiosity?” you echoed, the smirk still playing on your lips. “I’m pretty sure I can handle more than just curiosity.”
Alison’s smile didn’t falter, but her eyes sharpened, as if she were already stripping away the layers of bravado you were carrying. She stepped out from behind the booth, moving with the same grace that defined her dancing. Her eyes flicked over you, quick and discerning, but not in a judgmental way. It was more like she was assessing your potential, seeing beyond the surface.
“Many people say that,” she said, her tone smooth. “But curiosity is still more than what they usually bring.”
You hesitated slightly as she nodded for you to follow her, leading you away from the booth slightly, toward a more open space where a few students were practicing jumps and turns. She stopped, folded her arms, and gave you her full attention, her head tilting slightly to one side as if sizing you up.
“I’m Alison,” she told you, although she didn’t really need to, “What’s your name?”
“$MC_firstname,” you introduced yourself.
“You dance?" she asked, her voice curious but calm, no pressure behind it. She didn’t need to apply any.
“Nothing as fancy as this yet, but I’ve got the talent. Just need the stage.” You let your words hang there, meeting her gaze with a challenge of your own.
Her gaze flickered with interest, studying you in a way that felt both casual and measured. “We all start somewhere,” she said, and you could tell from the way her words lilted that she meant it. The way she spoke felt like an interview, but not in the way that put you on edge. It was more like she was drawing something out of you, coaxing you into showing her what you were willing to. “<em>Terpsichore</em>’s always looking for new talent. What’s your background? Ballet? Contemporary? Breakdancing?”
You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of the weight of your response. “A bit of everything, but mostly…”
<<if $Ballet>>*[[… ballet.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Contemporary>>*[[… contemporary.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Lyrical>>*[[… lyrical.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Classical>>*[[… classical.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Jazz>>*[[… jazz.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Waltz>>*[[… waltz.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<notify>>+ Laidback<</notify>>You’d heard about Alison. Everyone in the dance world across the globe in recent years had. She was known not only for her skill but for her exacting standards. People said she could read you the moment you stepped into a room—know your strengths, your weaknesses, what you were capable of even before you did.
“Yeah, I was curious,” you said easily, glancing around at the booth. “Figured I’d see what all the fuss is about.”
Alison’s smile widened just slightly, her eyes flicking over you with quiet curiosity of her own. She stepped out from behind the booth, moving with the same grace that defined her dancing. Her eyes flicked over you, quick and discerning, but not in a judgmental way. It was more like she was assessing your potential, seeing beyond the surface.
“Curiosity’s good," she said after a beat. “Most people don't even get that far."
You hesitated slightly as she nodded for you to follow her, leading you away from the booth slightly, toward a more open space where a few students were practicing jumps and turns. She stopped, folded her arms, and gave you her full attention, her head tilting slightly to one side as if sizing you up.
“I’m Alison,” she told you, although she didn’t really need to, “What’s your name?”
“$MC_firstname,” you introduced yourself.
“You dance?" she asked, her voice curious but calm, no pressure behind it. She didn’t need to apply any.
“Yeah, I’ve danced a little,” you said casually when she asked. “But nothing as serious as this. I’m here to see what you all are about.” There was no stress, no anxiety—just the idea of giving it a go.
Her gaze flickered with interest, studying you in a way that felt both casual and measured. “We all start somewhere,” she said, and you could tell from the way her words lilted that she meant it. The way she spoke felt like an interview, but not in the way that put you on edge. It was more like she was drawing something out of you, coaxing you into showing her what you were willing to. “<em>Terpsichore</em>’s always looking for new talent. What’s your background? Ballet? Contemporary? Breakdancing?”
You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of the weight of your response. “A bit of everything, but mostly…”
<<if $Ballet>>*[[… ballet.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Contemporary>>*[[… contemporary.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Lyrical>>*[[… lyrical.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Classical>>*[[… classical.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Jazz>>*[[… jazz.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Waltz>>*[[… waltz.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<notify>>+ Uptight<</notify>>You’d heard about Alison. Everyone in the dance world across the globe in recent years had. She was known not only for her skill but for her exacting standards. People said she could read you the moment you stepped into a room—know your strengths, your weaknesses, what you were capable of even before you did.
“I was curious,” you said, your voice measured. “Just trying to see if it’s the right fit.”
Alison’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a knowing glint in her eyes. She stepped out from behind the booth, moving with the same grace that defined her dancing. Her eyes flicked over you, quick and discerning, but not in a judgmental way. It was more like she was assessing your potential, seeing beyond the surface.
“Curiosity’s good," she said after a beat. “Most people don't even get that far."
You hesitated slightly as you felt a quiet surge of something between excitement and anxiety as she nodded for you to follow her, leading you away from the booth slightly, toward a more open space where a few students were practicing jumps and turns. She stopped, folded her arms, and gave you her full attention, her head tilting slightly to one side as if sizing you up.
“I’m Alison,” she told you, although she didn’t really need to, “What’s your name?”
“$MC_firstname,” you introduced yourself.
“You dance?" she asked, her voice curious but calm, no pressure behind it. She didn’t need to apply any.
“I’ve danced, but not like this,” you said, feeling the pressure of the moment, trying not to let it show too much.
Her gaze flickered with interest, studying you in a way that felt both casual and measured. “We all start somewhere,” she said, and you could tell from the way her words lilted that she meant it. The way she spoke felt like an interview, but not in the way that put you on edge. It was more like she was drawing something out of you, coaxing you into showing her what you were willing to. “<em>Terpsichore</em>’s always looking for new talent. What’s your background? Ballet? Contemporary? Breakdancing?”
You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of the weight of your response. “A bit of everything, but mostly…”
<<if $Ballet>>*[[… ballet.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Contemporary>>*[[… contemporary.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Lyrical>>*[[… lyrical.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Classical>>*[[… classical.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Jazz>>*[[… jazz.|Dance 2]]<</if>><<if $Waltz>>*[[… waltz.|Dance 2]]<</if>>Alison’s expression softened, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Good foundation. Have you ever competed before?”
You cleared your throat. “I did back in high school. Nothing major... Not... professionally. Not like you guys.”
Her smile widened slightly. “Well, we’re not professionals either. Just very good amateurs.”
There was a beat of silence as she seemed to think something over, her eyes narrowing just slightly. Then, she gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “We’re holding auditions next week. I usually don’t invite people personally, but I think you might be a good fit. I’ll vouch for you."
You blinked, surprised by the directness of the offer. It wasn’t just a casual invitation. This was Alison Montjane, the leader of Terpsichore, asking you to audition. You had known about the process—how selective it was, how most people had to apply first, get through a round of sending dance tapes and cuts before they were even allowed to show their faces for auditions. But here you were, being personally vouched for by the choragus herself.
“Are you serious?" you asked, the disbelief creeping into your voice before you could stop it.
Alison smiled, just barely, but there was something almost amused in her expression now. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have asked. Come to the studio next week, Tuesday afternoon. We’ll see if you’ve got what it takes."
There was a lightness to her words, but you knew there was more weight beneath them than she let on. Alison didn’t seem to be the type to give out false hope. If she saw something in you, it meant you had a shot, but you would have to prove yourself.
You took a breath, the reality of the situation settling in. This was an opportunity. And not just any opportunity—it was the opportunity.
“I’ll be there," you said, feeling a flicker of excitement in your chest.
Alison gave one final nod, satisfied, and then turned back toward the booth, her movements so seamless that it felt like she hadn’t really stopped to talk to you at all—like she was always in motion, even when she was standing still.
You stood there for a moment, watching as she slipped back into conversation with a member, and it dawned on you that this was it. Somehow, you had taken your first step into making something out of every broken knee, twisted ankles, and scrapes you had endured as an up-and-coming dancer. And you knew you couldn’t let this chance slip away.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.10]]*/A pair of ice skates, bright white with sharp, gleaming blades, were propped up on the table like an offering. They caught the light, and for a moment, the whole world seemed to slow down around you. The sound of your surroundings faded into a muffled background hum, and all you could see were those skates, the way the sunlight danced across the blades like something magical.
It had only been a few months since you’d last skated, but it felt like longer. High school felt like a lifetime ago, even though it was just behind you, and skating had been such a huge part of it. Early mornings at the rink, late nights polishing your blades, the cold bite of the ice against your skin—it was all still so fresh, like it had just happened yesterday. But then Yale had happened. Your dream school. And with it, the looming pressure of more. More work, more responsibilities, more expectations. And skating… skating had slipped out of focus, not because you wanted it to, but because there just didn’t seem to be room for it anymore.
“Thinking about trying out?”
You blinked, the world snapping back into focus. The voice belonged to a girl standing behind the table, her arms crossed casually over her chest. She was tall, with a lean, athletic build that screamed ‘figure skater’ even before you noticed the slight callous on her hands—hands that had clearly spent years gripping the toe picks of skates. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail, and her eyes were a vibrant blue and curious, like she was already assessing you without needing to ask any real questions.
You were momentarily thrown off by her directness.
“I, uh…” You glanced back at the skates on the table, feeling a sudden wave of uncertainty. “I used to skate in high school,” you said, the words tumbling out before you really thought about them. “But it’s been a few months since I stopped. I was focusing on school, you know?”
She nodded slowly, as if considering your words, her eyes still assessing you.
“A few months isn’t long,” she said. Her tone was casual, but there was something knowing behind it. “Muscle memory’s a funny thing. Once you’ve got it, it sticks with you. Kind of like riding a bike—except on ice.”
You laughed a little at that, feeling some of the tension ease from your shoulders. It was true. You hadn’t forgotten how it felt to skate. The way the rink would be so cold it burned your lungs when you first stepped inside, the smooth, controlled glide of your blades as you cut through the ice. You hadn’t forgotten the satisfaction of landing a perfect jump or the quiet thrill of spinning so fast the world blurred around you. It was all still there, just beneath the surface.
*[[“I don’t know,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck, feeling a little sheepish but smiling through it. “I mean, I miss it. A lot. But I’m not sure if I’m ready to throw myself back into it just yet.”|Figure Skating 1.1][$Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[“I don’t know if I can commit to something like that right now,” you said evenly, your voice calm and measured. “I’ve got a full course load, and… it’s been a while since I skated seriously.”|Figure Skating 1.2][$Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100); $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[“I mean, I guess I could show up,” you said, your voice casual, but with an undercurrent of confidence that bordered on cocky. “I’ve always been pretty good on the ice.”|Figure Skating 1.3][$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[“I miss it,” you admitted quietly, almost to yourself. “I didn’t think I would, but… I really miss it.”|Figure Skating 1.4][$Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[“Who knows, maybe I’m the next Michelle Kwan or Nathan Chen,” you drawled sarcastically. “Fate’s pretty funny, huh.”|Figure Skating 1.5][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[“I mean, I wasn’t, like, a prodigy or anything,” you said, your voice quiet, almost apologetic. “I just really enjoyed it, that’s all.”|Figure Skating 1.6][$Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100)]]<<notify>>+ Friendly<</notify>>She smiled, but it wasn’t the sharp, challenging grin she’d given you earlier. This one was different—gentler, a little more understanding. Like she’d seen plenty of people in your position before, caught between two worlds, unsure of how to step forward without losing something important.
“It doesn’t have to be all or nothing,” she said, leaning a little closer to the table, resting her arms on it as if inviting you into a quieter, more personal conversation. “A lot of us are just here because we love it. It’s not about competition, or being the best, or even making it into the Olympics.” She laughed softly, the sound light and easy, but not mocking. “We’re just trying to hold onto the things we love, you know? College can feel like it’s swallowing you up sometimes. It’s nice to have something that makes you feel like you again.”
You blinked, surprised by how easily she seemed to understand what you’d been struggling with since arriving at Yale. The pressure, the expectations—it all felt so heavy sometimes, like you were trying to mold yourself into something bigger than you were, something you weren’t sure you wanted to be. And skating… skating had always been your escape from that, your way of feeling grounded. But you’d let it slip away, let it get buried under the weight of your ambitions.
“I used to figure skate in high school,” you found yourself suddenly saying, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “I wasn’t competitive, though. I mean, I could’ve been. My coach thought I had potential, but I was more focused on academics. You know, trying to balance everything.”
The girl’s smile deepened, but there was something contemplative in her expression now, like she was turning over your words, weighing them. She didn’t speak right away, just looked at you with those sharp eyes, as if she could see through the layers of excuses and hesitation you’d built around yourself. Finally, she nodded, a slow, deliberate motion, and her smile softened.
“Sounds like you’ve still got some unfinished business with the ice,” she said, her tone lighter now, teasing, but there was a sincerity underneath it that you couldn’t ignore. “We’re having tryouts next week at Ingalls Rink. Thursday, five o’clock.”
She reached down and grabbed a flier from the stack on the table, holding it out to you with a confident flick of her wrist. You took it, feeling the smoothness of the paper between your fingers. The flier was simple, like the booth, but there was something about the clean lines and the crisp font that made it feel important. Real.
“You should come,” she repeated, this time with a touch of encouragement. “You’ve got the background. And if you’ve kept even a little bit of that muscle memory… trust me, it’s worth it to come see if you still love it. Plus,” she added, a playful lilt in her voice now, “we could use someone who knows their way around the ice. And from what you’ve said, you’ve got the skills.”
Your heart did a small flip at the praise, though you tried not to let it show on your face. You weren’t used to people assuming you were good at skating—most of your high school life had been spent quietly practicing at odd hours, away from the competitive spotlight.
<<button "Next" "Figure Skating 2">><</button>>
/*[[Figure Skating 2]]*/<<notify>>+ Aloof<</notify>>She nodded, her expression thoughtful, but there was no judgment in her eyes. “I get it,” she said simply. “College is a lot. And it’s not like figure skating is easy to fit into an already packed schedule.”
There was a pause, not awkward, just quiet. She seemed to be considering her words carefully before she spoke again.
“But you know,” she continued, her tone still casual but with a hint of something more serious, “sometimes the things we think we don’t have time for are the things we need the most. You don’t have to come in with any expectations. Just see how it feels. Maybe it’ll be worth making time for.”
You glanced up at the poster on the side, your mind running through a thousand different scenarios. It wasn’t as if you’d forgotten the feeling of the ice beneath your blades, the precision of the movements, the quiet focus that came with every routine. But that was the past. This was now.
“I used to figure skate in high school,” you found yourself suddenly saying, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “I wasn’t competitive, though. I mean, I could’ve been. My coach thought I had potential, but I was more focused on academics. You know, trying to balance everything.”
The girl’s smile deepened, but there was something contemplative in her expression now, like she was turning over your words, weighing them. She didn’t speak right away, just looked at you with those sharp eyes, as if she could see through the layers of excuses and hesitation you’d built around yourself. Finally, she nodded, a slow, deliberate motion, and her smile softened.
“Sounds like you’ve still got some unfinished business with the ice,” she said, her tone lighter now, teasing, but there was a sincerity underneath it that you couldn’t ignore. “We’re having tryouts next week at Ingalls Rink. Thursday, five o’clock.”
She reached down and grabbed a flier from the stack on the table, holding it out to you with a confident flick of her wrist. You took it, feeling the smoothness of the paper between your fingers. The flier was simple, like the booth, but there was something about the clean lines and the crisp font that made it feel important. Real.
“You should come,” she repeated, this time with a touch of encouragement. “You’ve got the background. And if you’ve kept even a little bit of that muscle memory… trust me, it’s worth it to come see if you still love it. Plus,” she added, a playful lilt in her voice now, “we could use someone who knows their way around the ice. And from what you’ve said, you’ve got the skills.”
Your heart did a small flip at the praise, though you tried not to let it show on your face. You weren’t used to people assuming you were good at skating—most of your high school life had been spent quietly practicing at odd hours, away from the competitive spotlight.
<<button "Next" "Figure Skating 2">><</button>>
/*[[Figure Skating 2]]*/<<notify>>+ Arrogant<</notify>>She raised an eyebrow, clearly catching onto the shift in your tone. But instead of being put off, she seemed intrigued. “Oh yeah?” she asked, crossing her arms and leaning against the table, her posture more relaxed now. “How good are we talking?”
You shrugged, playing it cool. “Good enough. It’s been a few months, sure, but I’m pretty confident I can pick it back up without a problem.”
“I used to figure skate in high school,” you found yourself suddenly saying, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “I wasn’t competitive, though. I mean, I could’ve been. My coach thought I had potential, but I was more focused on academics. You know, trying to balance everything.”
The girl’s smile deepened, but there was something contemplative in her expression now, like she was turning over your words, weighing them. She didn’t speak right away, just looked at you with those sharp eyes, as if she could see through the layers of excuses and hesitation you’d built around yourself. Finally, she nodded, a slow, deliberate motion, and her smile softened.
“Sounds like you’ve still got some unfinished business with the ice,” she said, her tone lighter now, teasing, but there was a sincerity underneath it that you couldn’t ignore. “We’re having tryouts next week at Ingalls Rink. Thursday, five o’clock.”
She reached down and grabbed a flier from the stack on the table, holding it out to you with a confident flick of her wrist. You took it, feeling the smoothness of the paper between your fingers. The flier was simple, like the booth, but there was something about the clean lines and the crisp font that made it feel important. Real.
“You should come,” she repeated, this time with a touch of encouragement. “You’ve got the background. And if you’ve kept even a little bit of that muscle memory… trust me, it’s worth it to come see if you still love it. Plus,” she added, a playful lilt in her voice now, “we could use someone who knows their way around the ice. And from what you’ve said, you’ve got the skills.”
Your heart did a small flip at the praise, though you tried not to let it show on your face. You weren’t used to people assuming you were good at skating—most of your high school life had been spent quietly practicing at odd hours, away from the competitive spotlight.
<<button "Next" "Figure Skating 2">><</button>>
/*[[Figure Skating 2]]*/<<notify>>+ Genuine<</notify>>She watched you carefully, her expression softening as she nodded. “Yeah,” she said, her voice gentle. “It’s hard to walk away from something you love. Especially something like skating. It stays with you, even when you think you’ve moved on.”
You looked up at the poster on the side, biting the edges of your thumb. “I didn’t go competitive in high school because I thought I needed to focus on academics. But maybe…” You hesitated, the words feeling heavy on your tongue. “Maybe I was wrong about that.”
She smiled, and there was a kindness in her eyes that made the weight on your chest feel just a little bit lighter. “There’s no rule that says you can’t do both,” she said softly. “School’s important, sure. But so is this. And if you love it, if it makes you feel like yourself, then it’s worth finding a way to make it work.”
You nodded slowly, the truth of her words settling deep inside you. Maybe she was right. Maybe you didn’t have to choose between the two parts of yourself. Maybe you could find a way to keep skating, even here, even now.
“I used to figure skate in high school,” you found yourself suddenly saying, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “I wasn’t competitive, though. I mean, I could’ve been. My coach thought I had potential, but I was more focused on academics. You know, trying to balance everything.”
The girl’s smile deepened, but there was something contemplative in her expression now, like she was turning over your words, weighing them. She didn’t speak right away, just looked at you with those sharp eyes, as if she could see through the layers of excuses and hesitation you’d built around yourself. Finally, she nodded, a slow, deliberate motion, and her smile softened.
“Sounds like you’ve still got some unfinished business with the ice,” she said, her tone lighter now, teasing, but there was a sincerity underneath it that you couldn’t ignore. “We’re having tryouts next week at Ingalls Rink. Thursday, five o’clock.”
She reached down and grabbed a flier from the stack on the table, holding it out to you with a confident flick of her wrist. You took it, feeling the smoothness of the paper between your fingers. The flier was simple, like the booth, but there was something about the clean lines and the crisp font that made it feel important. Real.
“You should come,” she repeated, this time with a touch of encouragement. “You’ve got the background. And if you’ve kept even a little bit of that muscle memory… trust me, it’s worth it to come see if you still love it. Plus,” she added, a playful lilt in her voice now, “we could use someone who knows their way around the ice. And from what you’ve said, you’ve got the skills.”
Your heart did a small flip at the praise, though you tried not to let it show on your face. You weren’t used to people assuming you were good at skating—most of your high school life had been spent quietly practicing at odd hours, away from the competitive spotlight.
<<button "Next" "Figure Skating 2">><</button>>
/*[[Figure Skating 2]]*/<<notify>>+ Sarcastic<</notify>>She raised an eyebrow at you, unimpressed but amused.
“Hey, I don’t know your life,” she said, her tone just as dry as yours. “Maybe this is your destiny, and I’m just here to facilitate it.”
You snorted, shaking your head. “Right. My destiny is clearly to spend the next four years on ice instead of in a library. That makes total sense.”
But even as you said it, there was a part of you that couldn’t deny the pull of it. You hadn’t expected to feel this way—to be tempted, to want it. And that was the problem, wasn’t it? You wanted it, even if you were trying to play it off like a joke.
“I used to figure skate in high school,” you found yourself suddenly saying, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “I wasn’t competitive, though. I mean, I could’ve been. My coach thought I had potential, but I was more focused on academics. You know, trying to balance everything.”
The girl’s smile deepened, but there was something contemplative in her expression now, like she was turning over your words, weighing them. She didn’t speak right away, just looked at you with those sharp eyes, as if she could see through the layers of excuses and hesitation you’d built around yourself. Finally, she nodded, a slow, deliberate motion, and her smile softened.
“Sounds like you’ve still got some unfinished business with the ice,” she said, her tone lighter now, teasing, but there was a sincerity underneath it that you couldn’t ignore. “We’re having tryouts next week at Ingalls Rink. Thursday, five o’clock.”
She reached down and grabbed a flier from the stack on the table, holding it out to you with a confident flick of her wrist. You took it, feeling the smoothness of the paper between your fingers. The flier was simple, like the booth, but there was something about the clean lines and the crisp font that made it feel important. Real.
“You should come,” she repeated, this time with a touch of encouragement. “You’ve got the background. And if you’ve kept even a little bit of that muscle memory… trust me, it’s worth it to come see if you still love it. Plus,” she added, a playful lilt in her voice now, “we could use someone who knows their way around the ice. And from what you’ve said, you’ve got the skills.”
Your heart did a small flip at the praise, though you tried not to let it show on your face. You weren’t used to people assuming you were good at skating—most of your high school life had been spent quietly practicing at odd hours, away from the competitive spotlight.
<<button "Next" "Figure Skating 2">><</button>>
/*[[Figure Skating 2]]*/<<notify>>+ Humble<</notify>>She watched you carefully, her expression softening. “You don’t have to be a prodigy,” she said gently. “You just have to love it. That’s enough.”
Her words struck something deep inside you, something that had been buried under all the expectations and responsibilities you’d piled on yourself since getting into Yale. Skating had always been about joy for you, about the feeling of freedom it gave you. You’d never done it for the accolades or the recognition. You’d done it because it made you feel alive.
“I do love it,” you admitted, almost in a whisper. “I just didn’t think I could make time for it here.”
She smiled, and there was something warm and reassuring in her gaze. “You can,” she said simply. “You just have to want it.”
You nodded slowly, her words sinking in. Maybe you could make it work. Maybe you didn’t have to give up the things you loved just to succeed here. Maybe there was room for both.
“I used to figure skate in high school,” you found yourself suddenly saying, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “I wasn’t competitive, though. I mean, I could’ve been. My coach thought I had potential, but I was more focused on academics. You know, trying to balance everything.”
The girl’s smile deepened, but there was something contemplative in her expression now, like she was turning over your words, weighing them. She didn’t speak right away, just looked at you with those sharp eyes, as if she could see through the layers of excuses and hesitation you’d built around yourself. Finally, she nodded, a slow, deliberate motion, and her smile softened.
“Sounds like you’ve still got some unfinished business with the ice,” she said, her tone lighter now, teasing, but there was a sincerity underneath it that you couldn’t ignore. “We’re having tryouts next week at Ingalls Rink. Thursday, five o’clock.”
She reached down and grabbed a flier from the stack on the table, holding it out to you with a confident flick of her wrist. You took it, feeling the smoothness of the paper between your fingers. The flier was simple, like the booth, but there was something about the clean lines and the crisp font that made it feel important. Real.
“You should come,” she repeated, this time with a touch of encouragement. “You’ve got the background. And if you’ve kept even a little bit of that muscle memory… trust me, it’s worth it to come see if you still love it. Plus,” she added, a playful lilt in her voice now, “we could use someone who knows their way around the ice. And from what you’ve said, you’ve got the skills.”
Your heart did a small flip at the praise, though you tried not to let it show on your face. You weren’t used to people assuming you were good at skating—most of your high school life had been spent quietly practicing at odd hours, away from the competitive spotlight.
<<button "Next" "Figure Skating 2">><</button>>
/*[[Figure Skating 2]]*/There was a pause, just long enough to make the decision feel like it was hanging in the air, weighty and real. You wanted to say yes, but the doubts tugged at you too. Classes. Workload. Life. It was all heavy and new, and you weren’t sure if skating fit into that picture anymore.
She seemed to sense the conflict and gave you a wink.
“Just don’t forget your skates,” she said, teasing but with a serious undercurrent, like it was a challenge. “Kind of hard to try out without them.”
You let out a soft chuckle despite yourself, shaking your head. “Right. Skates. Wouldn’t want to show up empty-handed.”
She grinned at that, and you couldn’t help but smile back, even though part of you still wasn’t sure if you’d actually go.
“Well,” you started, glancing down at the flier again, “I’ll think about it.”
She didn’t press you, just nodded, her smile still in place but softer now.
“Do that,” she said, then glanced over her shoulder as another group of students approached the booth. “We’ll be waiting.”
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.10]]*/The swimming booth wasn’t something you were actively seeking out, but the moment you saw the familiar blue and white banner stretched across the front—<strong>Yale Men’s Swimming & Diving</strong>—something deep inside you stirred. It was like seeing a ghost from your past, but instead of feeling haunted, you felt... pulled. Drawn in. You hadn’t thought about swimming in months, not since you’d hung up your cap and goggles after the last high school meet. But now, standing in front of the booth, it all came flooding back.
The photos on the table were what caught your eye first—guys mid-stroke, cutting through water with precision, their muscles taut and streamlined, their faces set in determined focus. The Kiphuth Exhibition Pool at Payne Whitney Gymnasium was just visible in the background of one of the pictures, its towering ceiling and grand architecture casting the swimmers below in a kind of reverent light. You remembered hearing about it, even before you set foot on campus. The pool was legendary, not just for its beauty, but for the history that clung to its walls.
“Hey, you interested?”
You looked up, pulled from your thoughts by a voice that was equal parts friendly and curious. The guy behind the booth was really tall, lean, and broad shoulders that suggested he practically lived in the water. His coily hair was damp, like he’d just come from a practice, and his easy smile gave him an air of laid-back confidence that was hard to ignore.
“I, uh…” You hesitated, feeling a sudden rush of uncertainty. It wasn’t that you didn’t belong here, but admitting that you hadn’t swum in months felt like some kind of confession. “I used to swim,” you said finally, and even as the words left your mouth, you realized how much weight they carried.
“Used to, huh?” He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms as he regarded you with a knowing look. “High school team?”
You nodded. “Yeah. Did it all four years. But, you know... school got in the way.”
It was a half-truth, and you both knew it. School had always been important to you, but swimming had been more than just a sport. It had been an escape, a place where everything else—grades, expectations, the pressure of getting into a place like Yale—could melt away. In the water, you didn’t have to be anything other than what you were in that moment. Strong, fast, relentless, living in chlorine and hearing the rhythmic sound of your breath against the water. But somewhere along the way, you’d started to think that maybe it wasn’t enough. That maybe you couldn’t do both. So, when college applications had come around, you’d made a choice.
The guy, whose name you still didn’t know, nodded slowly, as if he understood more than you were saying. “Happens to a lot of people. You gotta prioritize, right?” His smile was still there, but his brown eyes were more focused now. “But it doesn’t mean you have to give it up for good.”
*[[“I mean, you’re not wrong,” you said, and you couldn’t help but smile back. It was strange how quickly the tension eased. “I didn’t exactly quit. It just kind of… took a back seat.”|Men's Swimming 1.1]]
*[[“It wasn’t an easy decision,” you said, your voice steady, betraying none of the internal conflict you still felt. “But I had to make a call. Something had to give.”|Men's Swimming 1.2]]
*[[You blinked, surprised at how easily he seemed to see through you. “I don’t know,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck. “It’s been a while. I’m probably out of practice.”|Men's Swimming 1.3]]
*[[“Giving it up wasn’t the issue,” you said, your tone casual, even a little amused. “It’s more about choosing where to put my energy. I’ve already proven I can swim. That’s not up for debate.”|Men's Swimming 1.4]]The swimming booth wasn’t something you were actively seeking out, but the moment you saw the familiar blue and white banner stretched across the front—<strong>Yale Women’s Swimming & Diving</strong>—something deep inside you stirred. It was like seeing a ghost from your past, but instead of feeling haunted, you felt... pulled. Drawn in. You hadn’t thought about swimming in months, not since you’d hung up your cap and goggles after the last high school meet. But now, standing in front of the booth, it all came flooding back.
The photos on the table were what caught your eye first—girls mid-stroke, cutting through water with precision, their muscles taut and streamlined, their faces set in determined focus. The Kiphuth Exhibition Pool at Payne Whitney Gymnasium was just visible in the background of one of the pictures, its towering ceiling and grand architecture casting the swimmers below in a kind of reverent light. You remembered hearing about it, even before you set foot on campus. The pool was legendary, not just for its beauty, but for the history that clung to its walls.
“Hey, you interested?”
You looked up, pulled from your thoughts by a voice that was friendly yet curious. The girl behind the booth was tall, lean, with a swimmer's build—strong shoulders and toned arms. Her long, coily dark hair was damp, like she’d just come from practice, and there was a focused ease about her, a relaxed confidence in the way she held herself.
“I, uh…” You hesitated, feeling a sudden rush of uncertainty. It wasn’t that you didn’t belong here, but admitting that you hadn’t swum in months felt like some kind of confession. “I used to swim,” you said finally, and even as the words left your mouth, you realized how much weight they carried.
“Used to?” She raised an eyebrow, her expression shifting slightly. There was no judgment there, just curiosity. “High school team?”
You nodded. “Yeah. Did it all four years. But, you know... school got in the way.”
It was a half-truth, and you both knew it. School had always been important to you, but swimming had been more than just a sport. It had been an escape, a place where everything else—grades, expectations, the pressure of getting into a place like Yale—could melt away. In the water, you didn’t have to be anything other than what you were in that moment. But somewhere along the way, you’d started to think that maybe it wasn’t enough. That maybe you couldn’t do both. So, when college applications had come around, you’d made a choice.
The girl, whose name you still didn’t know, nodded slowly, as if she understood more than you were saying. “Happens to a lot of people. You gotta prioritize, right?” Her easy smile was back, but her eyes were sharper now, more focused. “But it doesn’t mean you have to give it up for good.”
*[[“I mean, you’re not wrong,” you said, and you couldn’t help but smile back. It was strange how quickly the tension eased. “I didn’t exactly quit. It just kind of… took a back seat.”|Women's Swimming 1.1]]
*[[“It wasn’t an easy decision,” you said, your voice steady, betraying none of the internal conflict you still felt. “But I had to make a call. Something had to give.”|Women's Swimming 1.2]]
*[[You blinked, surprised at how easily she seemed to see through you. “I don’t know,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck. “It’s been a while. I’m probably out of practice.”|Women's Swimming 1.3]]
*[[“Giving it up wasn’t the issue,” you said, your tone casual, even a little amused. “It’s more about choosing where to put my energy. I’ve already proven I can swim. That’s not up for debate.”|Women's Swimming 1.4]]He nodded as if he’d heard that before, like it wasn’t news to him. “Yeah, I get that. College is a whole different beast. Suddenly, there’s about fifty things pulling at you from every direction.”
“Exactly,” you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “I guess I just figured I’d need to put more focus on classes, you know? Yale and all…” You trailed off, but he was already nodding like he knew the end of that sentence.
“And here you are,” he said, his grin widening as he leaned forward slightly. “Standing in front of the swim team booth.”
“Here I am,” you agreed, laughing a little at how absurd it sounded when he said it like that. There was something about his easy acceptance that made you feel less self-conscious about the whole thing. He didn’t seem like he was judging you for giving it up, and that felt like a relief.
“We all need balance, bruh,” he said, and his voice took on a slightly more serious tone. “Yale’s a grind, no doubt about it, but you can’t lose yourself in all the pressure. Swimming’s a great way to clear your head, you know?”
You knew. The memory of it was so vivid—standing at the edge of the pool, water stretching out in front of you like an invitation, the world shrinking down to just you, your breath, and the feel of the water around you. There was no noise, no distractions, no pressure. Just the rhythm of your stroke, the glide of the water.
“Yeah,” you said, your voice softening. “It’s weird. I didn’t think I’d miss it this much. But seeing the pool… thinking about it now…”
He grinned again, but this time it was more knowing, like he was reading your mind. “It’s hard to stay away once you’ve been in it. The water’s got a way of pulling you back in.” He shrugged. “But, no pressure. We’ve got tryouts next Wednesday at 6 a.m., Kiphuth Exhibition Pool. If you feel like coming by, we’ll be there. If not, it’s all good. You do what works for you.”
It was exactly what you needed to hear. No pressure. No expectations. Just an open door, if you chose to walk through it.
“Thanks,” you said, feeling the sincerity in your voice. “I’ll definitely think about it.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, and there was an easy sincerity to him too. “Hope to see you there. Who knows, you might just find out you still got it.”
You laughed, feeling lighter than you had all day. “We’ll see,” you said, but there was a part of you, deep down, that already knew you’d be at the pool come Wednesday morning. Even if it was just to see if you still had it in you.
“So,” you said, a hint of a smile playing at your lips, “do I at least get your name if I’m seriously considering jumping back in the pool?”
The swimmer grinned, a lopsided kind of grin that made him seem even more approachable, if that was possible.
“Fair point. I’m Mason,” he said, extending his hand with a casualness that matched his demeanor. “Captain of the swim team.”
You shook his hand, noting the strength of his grip, the kind of firm handshake you’d expect from someone who’d spent hours training in the water. “$MC_firstname. Former high school swimmer, current freshman trying to figure it all out.”
As you eventually turned to walk away, you heard him call after you, “Don’t forget to bring your A-game, bruh. We’ve got a fast crew this year!”
You waved over your shoulder, a grin stretching across your face. For the first time all day, you felt like maybe you’d found something that felt like yours. Something familiar.
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/*[[Ch 3.10]]*/He nodded slowly, his face serious, respectful. “Yeah, I hear that. It’s not easy, figuring out what’s worth hanging onto and what you can afford to let go of.” He leaned forward on the booth’s table, folding his arms, and there was a quiet intensity in his eyes that made you think he understood more than most people would. “But here’s the thing. Just because you put something down doesn’t mean it’s gone forever.”
The truth in that statement settled in the space between you. You considered it for a moment, letting the weight of his words sink in. You hadn’t stopped loving swimming. You’d just chosen to focus on something else. It didn’t mean that part of you was gone, only buried.
“Maybe,” you said after a long pause, and your voice was measured, as though you were still weighing the possibility in your mind. “But it’s been months. I’m not sure I could get back to where I was.”
The swimmer—whose name you still didn’t know—nodded like he understood that too. “It’s not about getting back to where you were. It’s about figuring out where you are now. Maybe you’re not the same swimmer you were in high school, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be just as good. Or better.”
“It’s not the swimming I’m worried about,” you said, your tone even but with a hint of something more thoughtful beneath it. “It’s balancing everything else.”
“Yale’s tough,” he agreed, his voice quiet but firm. “But I’ve found that having something outside of class—something that grounds you—makes it a little easier to deal with the grind. Swimming does that for me. It might do the same for you.”
You nodded once, considering his words. There was a certain logic to them, and while you weren’t one to make snap decisions, you could see the appeal. There was a part of you that missed the water. Missed the way the world fell away when you were in it. It wasn’t about proving anything to anyone else. It was about proving something to yourself.
“You’ve got a good pitch,” you said.
He smiled, a touch of amusement in his eyes, as though he recognized the compliment even beneath your guarded tone. “Thanks. I try.”
You stood there for a moment longer before extending your hand. “$MC_firstname,” you said, your tone businesslike, more formal than friendly.
“Mason,” he replied, shaking your hand, his grip firm but not overly so. “Team captain.”
“I’ll think about your offer,” you said, your tone as steady as ever.
He didn’t push. Didn’t press. He just nodded again, as though he’d expected that response. “That’s all I’m asking.”
You stood there for a moment longer as Mason handed you a flier, the pool’s address printed clearly on the top. Kiphuth Exhibition Pool, Payne Whitney Gymnasium. Wednesday morning. 6 a.m.
“I’ll think about it,” you repeated, and this time, the words felt more real.
He gave you a slight nod, almost a salute, and you could see the respect in his eyes as you turned to leave. No pressure. No hard sell. Just an understanding that maybe, you’d find yourself back in the water sooner than you thought.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.10]]*/“$MC_firstname,” you said, holding out your hand. “I used to swim. High school. Captain of my high school team.”
The college captain took your hand, his grip strong, but there was no surprise in his eyes. If anything, he seemed to have expected that from you.
“Mason,” he said, his smile widening, but there was a glint in his eyes that suggested he recognized the same competitive edge in you. “Guess we’ve got that in common then.”
“Yeah,” you replied, letting your hand drop back to your side. “But I was good. Like, really good. So I’m not sure what you’re offering is even worth my time.”
Mason didn’t flinch, didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he shrugged, the picture of calm confidence. “I’m not here to convince you. Just telling you what’s up. We’ve got a strong team this year. If you’re as good as you say, you might fit right in.”
You leaned back slightly, folding your arms across your chest, and allowed yourself a small, self-satisfied smile. “200-meter freestyle. State champ junior year. Broke a couple school records senior year.”
He whistled low under his breath, and you could see the flicker of recognition in his eyes. “State champ, huh? Nice. You must’ve had a hell of a team.”
“We were good,” you said, still grinning. “I was better.”
The swimmer chuckled, shaking his head, but there was no denying the respect in his gaze. “Well, damn. No wonder you’ve got that swagger. You’ve earned it.”
“Exactly,” you said, your voice confident. “Which is why I don’t know if I need to prove myself all over again. I’ve already done that.”
He nodded, his grin widening. “Fair enough. But let me ask you this: What’s stopping you from proving you can do it here? You’ve already got the talent. You’ve got the experience. Why not show Yale what you’ve got?”
It was a challenge, but not one you felt the need to rise to—not yet, anyway.
“Maybe I will,” you said, your tone measured, but still laced with that quiet confidence. “If I feel like it.”
The guy’s eyes sparkled with amusement. He didn’t seem put off by your attitude. If anything, he seemed to enjoy it.
“I’ll be waiting,” he said, leaning forward and handing you a flier. “Wednesday morning. Kiphuth Exhibition Pool at Payne Whitney Gymnasium. 6 a.m. Come see if the competition’s worth your time.”
You raised an eyebrow, glancing at the flier he handed you. “6 a.m.? Sounds like you guys don’t know the meaning of sleep.”
He laughed. “Early mornings come with the territory. But hey, if you’re as good as you say, maybe you can convince us to change that.”
You snorted, folding the flier and tucking it into your pocket. “Maybe.”
Mason’s gaze didn’t waver, the challenge still hanging in the air between you. “See you there, $MC_firstname.”
You shot him a look over your shoulder as you turned to leave. “We’ll see.”
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.10]]*/He shrugged, nonchalant. “So what? Everyone’s rusty after summer. It’s about getting back in the water, finding your rhythm again. Besides”—he glanced around, his tone casual, like this was no big deal—“we’ve got tryouts next week. You should come.”
Tryouts. The word hung in the air between you, and for a second, you weren’t sure what to say. Swimming had been your thing once, but now? Now you weren’t even sure if it fit into the life you were trying to build here. Yale was supposed to be your fresh start, a chance to focus on academics, to push yourself in ways that had nothing to do with physical endurance. Could you still be that person? The one who lived for the feeling of water against skin, of slicing through the pool with a single-minded focus?
You glanced down at the table, at the glossy flier he pushed toward you. The schedule was printed neatly across the top: Kiphuth Exhibition Pool—Wednesday, 6 a.m.
You took the flier, feeling the weight of the paper in your hand, the ink still fresh and sharp. The time, the place — it all felt so real now. “6 a.m.?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Guess I should set about five alarms."
The guy chuckled, clearly amused.
“You get used to it, it’s a varsity sport after all. Serious stuff." He straightened up, then stuck out his hand. “I’m Mason, by the way. Captain of the team."
You shook his hand, his grip firm, confident.
“$MC_firstname," you replied. “Freshman."
“Nice to meet you, $MC_firstname." Mason's smile was warm.
“I’m still not completely sure about it though,” you said as you dropped your hand back to your sides, though even as the words left your mouth, a part of you was already considering it. “It’s been months. I don’t know if I’m still cut out for this.”
The guy—no, the captain—laughed, but it wasn’t mocking. It was the kind of laugh that came from experience, from knowing exactly what it felt like to doubt yourself. “Bruh, trust me. We’ve all been there. No one expects you to break records on day one. Just come by, see how it feels. Worst case, you realize it’s not for you anymore, and you move on.”
There was something about his tone—easygoing, but with a quiet confidence that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could belong here again. That maybe swimming wasn’t something you had to leave behind.
“I’ll think about it,” you said, folding the flier and slipping it into your back pocket. The idea of being back in the pool, of feeling the cool water rush over your skin, made your chest tighten with something you didn’t want to name just yet.
“Think about it,” he repeated, nodding like he knew he’d already won. “But I’ll see you there.”
You didn’t respond, but something in his words stuck with you as you walked away, the noise of the fair swelling back around you. Kiphuth Exhibition Pool was calling to you, its grand architecture and legendary history whispering promises of a world you thought you’d left behind. Could you do it again? Could you balance the pressure of Yale with the demands of swimming?
The thought followed you long after you’d left the fair, the folded flier burning a hole in your pocket. You hadn’t expected to feel this pull, this draw toward something you thought you’d outgrown. But there it was, undeniable and persistent, like the rhythm of your stroke in the water, steady and unrelenting.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.10]]*/She nodded like she’d heard that story before, like it wasn’t news to her. “Yeah, I get that. College is a whole different beast. Suddenly, there’s fifty things pulling at you from every direction.”
“Exactly,” you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “I guess I just figured I’d need to focus more on classes, you know? Yale and all…” You trailed off, but she was already nodding like she knew the end of that sentence.
“And here you are,” she said, her grin widening as she leaned forward slightly. “Standing in front of the swim team booth.”
“Here I am,” you agreed, laughing a little at how absurd it sounded when she said it like that. There was something about her easy acceptance that made you feel less self-conscious about the whole thing. She didn’t seem like she was judging you for giving it up, and that felt like a relief.
“We all need balance,” she said, her voice taking on a slightly more serious tone. “Yale’s a grind, no doubt, but you can’t lose yourself in all the pressure. Swimming’s a great way to clear your head, you know?”
You did know. The memory of it was so vivid—standing at the edge of the pool, water stretching out in front of you like an invitation, the world shrinking down to just you, your breath, and the feel of the water around you. There was no noise, no distractions, no pressure. Just the rhythm of your stroke, the glide of the water.
“Yeah,” you said, your voice softening. “It’s weird. I didn’t think I’d miss it this much. But seeing the pool… thinking about it now…”
She grinned again, but this time it was more knowing, like she was reading your mind. “It’s hard to stay away once you’ve been in it. The water’s got a way of pulling you back in.” She shrugged. “But, no pressure. We’ve got tryouts next Wednesday at 6 a.m., Kiphuth Exhibition Pool. If you feel like coming by, we’ll be there. If not, it’s all good. You do what works for you.”
It was exactly what you needed to hear. No pressure. No expectations. Just an open door, if you chose to walk through it.
“Thanks,” you said, feeling the sincerity in your voice. “I’ll definitely think about it.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, and there was an easy sincerity to her too. “Hope to see you there. Who knows, you might just find out you still got it.”
You laughed, feeling lighter than you had all day. “We’ll see,” you said, but there was a part of you, deep down, that already knew you’d be at the pool come Wednesday morning. Even if it was just to see if you still had it in you.
“So,” you said, a hint of a smile playing at your lips, “do I at least get your name if I’m seriously considering jumping back in the pool?”
The swimmer grinned, a lopsided grin that made her seem even more approachable, if that was possible.
“Fair point. I’m Madison,” she said, extending her hand with a casualness that matched her demeanor. “Captain of the swim team.”
You shook her hand, noting the strength of her grip, the kind of firm handshake you’d expect from someone who’d spent hours training in the water. “$MC_firstname. Former high school swimmer, current freshman trying to figure it all out.”
As you eventually turned to walk away, you heard her call after you, “Don’t forget to bring your A-game, $MC_firstname. We’ve got a fast crew this year!”
You waved over your shoulder, a grin stretching across your face. For the first time all day, you felt like maybe you’d found something that felt like yours. Something familiar.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.10]]*/She nodded slowly, her face serious, respectful. “Yeah, I hear that. It’s not easy, figuring out what’s worth hanging onto and what you can afford to let go of.” She leaned forward on the booth’s table, folding her arms, and there was a quiet intensity in her eyes that made you think she understood more than most people would. “But here’s the thing. Just because you put something down doesn’t mean it’s gone forever.”
The truth in that statement settled in the space between you. You considered it for a moment, letting the weight of her words sink in. You hadn’t stopped loving swimming. You’d just chosen to focus on something else. It didn’t mean that part of you was gone, only buried.
“Maybe,” you said after a long pause, and your voice was measured, as though you were still weighing the possibility in your mind. “But it’s been months. I’m not sure I could get back to where I was.”
The swimmer—whose name you still didn’t know—nodded like she understood that too. “It’s not about getting back to where you were. It’s about figuring out where you are now. Maybe you’re not the same swimmer you were in high school, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be just as good. Or better.”
“It’s not the swimming I’m worried about,” you said, your tone even but with a hint of something more thoughtful beneath it. “It’s balancing everything else.”
“Yale’s tough,” she agreed, her voice quiet but firm. “But I’ve found that having something outside of class—something that grounds you—makes it a little easier to deal with the grind. Swimming does that for me. It might do the same for you.”
You nodded once, considering her words. There was a certain logic to them, and while you weren’t one to make snap decisions, you could see the appeal. There was a part of you that missed the water. Missed the way the world fell away when you were in it. It wasn’t about proving anything to anyone else. It was about proving something to yourself.
“You’ve got a good pitch,” you said.
She smiled, a touch of amusement in her eyes, as though she recognized the compliment even beneath your guarded tone. “Thanks. I try.”
You stood there for a moment longer before extending your hand. “$MC_firstname,” you said, your tone businesslike, more formal than friendly.
“Madison,” she replied, shaking your hand, her grip firm but not overly so. “Team captain.”
“I’ll think about your offer,” you said, your tone as steady as ever.
She didn’t push. Didn’t press. She just nodded again, as though she’d expected that response. “That’s all I’m asking.”
You stood there for a moment longer as Madison handed you a flier, the pool’s address printed clearly on the top. Kiphuth Exhibition Pool, Payne Whitney Gymnasium. Wednesday morning. 6 a.m.
“I’ll think about it,” you repeated, and this time, the words felt more real.
She gave you a slight nod, almost a salute, and you could see the respect in her eyes as you turned to leave. No pressure. No hard sell. Just an understanding that maybe, you’d find yourself back in the water sooner than you thought.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.10]]*/“$MC_firstname,” you said, holding out your hand. “I used to swim. High school. Captain of my high school team.”
The college captain took your hand, her grip strong, but there was no surprise in her eyes. If anything, she seemed to have expected that from you.
“Madison,” she said, her smile widening, but there was a glint in her eyes that suggested she recognized the same competitive edge in you. “Guess we’ve got that in common then.”
“Yeah,” you replied, letting your hand drop back to your side. “But I was good. Like, really good. So I’m not sure what you’re offering is even worth my time.”
Madison didn’t flinch, didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, she shrugged, the picture of calm confidence. “I’m not here to convince you. Just telling you what’s up. We’ve got a strong team this year. If you’re as good as you say, you might fit right in.”
You leaned back slightly, folding your arms across your chest, and allowed yourself a small, self-satisfied smile. “200-meter freestyle. State champ junior year. Broke a couple school records senior year.”
She whistled low under her breath, and you could see the flicker of recognition in her eyes. “State champ, huh? Nice. You must’ve had a hell of a team.”
“We were good,” you said, still grinning. “I was better.”
The swimmer chuckled, shaking her head, but there was no denying the respect in her gaze. “Well, damn. No wonder you’ve got that swagger. You’ve earned it.”
“Exactly,” you said, your voice confident. “Which is why I don’t know if I need to prove myself all over again. I’ve already done that.”
She nodded, her grin widening. “Fair enough. But let me ask you this: What’s stopping you from proving you can do it here? You’ve already got the talent. You’ve got the experience. Why not show Yale what you’ve got?”
It was a challenge, but not one you felt the need to rise to—not yet, anyway.
“Maybe I will,” you said, your tone measured, but still laced with that quiet confidence. “If I feel like it.”
Her eyes sparkled with amusement. She didn’t seem put off by your attitude. If anything, she seemed to enjoy it.
“I’ll be waiting,” she said, leaning forward and handing you a flier. “Wednesday morning. Kiphuth Exhibition Pool at Payne Whitney Gymnasium. 6 a.m. Come see if the competition’s worth your time.”
You raised an eyebrow, glancing at the flier she handed you. “6 a.m.? Sounds like you guys don’t know the meaning of sleep.”
She laughed. “Early mornings come with the territory. But hey, if you’re as good as you say, maybe you can convince us to change that.”
You snorted, folding the flier and tucking it into your pocket. “Maybe.”
Madison’s gaze didn’t waver, the challenge still hanging in the air between you. “See you there, $MC_firstname.”
You shot her a look over your shoulder as you turned to leave. “We’ll see.”
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.10]]*/She shrugged, nonchalant. “So what? Everyone’s rusty after summer. It’s about getting back in the water, finding your rhythm again. Besides”—she glanced around, her tone casual, like this was no big deal—“we’ve got tryouts next week. You should come.”
Tryouts. The word hung in the air between you, and for a second, you weren’t sure what to say. Swimming had been your thing once, but now? Now you weren’t even sure if it fit into the life you were trying to build here. Yale was supposed to be your fresh start, a chance to focus on academics, to push yourself in ways that had nothing to do with physical endurance. Could you still be that person? The one who lived for the feeling of water against skin, of slicing through the pool with a single-minded focus?
You glanced down at the table, at the glossy flier she pushed toward you. The schedule was printed neatly across the top: Kiphuth Exhibition Pool—Wednesday, 6 a.m.
You took the flier, feeling the weight of the paper in your hand, the ink still fresh and sharp. The time, the place — it all felt so real now. “6 a.m.?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Guess I should set about five alarms."
She chuckled, clearly amused.
“You get used to it; it’s a varsity sport after all. Serious stuff." She straightened up, then stuck out her hand. “I’m Madison, by the way. Captain of the team."
You shook her hand, her grip firm, confident.
“$MC_firstname," you replied. “Freshman."
“Nice to meet you, $MC_firstname." Madison's smile was warm.
“I’m still not completely sure about it though,” you said as you dropped your hand back to your sides, though even as the words left your mouth, a part of you was already considering it. “It’s been months. I don’t know if I’m still cut out for this.”
Madison laughed, but it wasn’t mocking. It was the kind of laugh that came from experience, from knowing exactly what it felt like to doubt yourself. “Trust me, we’ve all been there. No one expects you to break records on day one. Just come by, see how it feels. Worst case, you realize it’s not for you anymore, and you move on.”
There was something about her tone—easygoing, but with a quiet confidence that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could belong here again. That maybe swimming wasn’t something you had to leave behind.
“I’ll think about it,” you said, folding the flier and slipping it into your back pocket. The idea of being back in the pool, of feeling the cool water rush over your skin, made your chest tighten with something you didn’t want to name just yet.
“Think about it,” she repeated, nodding like she knew she’d already won. “But I’ll see you there.”
You didn’t respond, but something in her words stuck with you as you walked away, the noise of the fair swelling back around you. Kiphuth Exhibition Pool was calling to you, its grand architecture and legendary history whispering promises of a world you thought you’d left behind. Could you do it again? Could you balance the pressure of Yale with the demands of swimming?
The thought followed you long after you’d left the fair, the folded flier burning a hole in your pocket. You hadn’t expected to feel this pull, this draw toward something you thought you’d outgrown. But there it was, undeniable and persistent, like the rhythm of your stroke in the water, steady and unrelenting.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.10]]*/It was not the loudest booth by far, not the one with banners and neon signs screaming for attention. But there, tucked between a student acapella group and some robotics team, was a booth with a plain navy banner hanging loosely over the front of the table: <strong>Yale Men’s Soccer</strong>. The letters were understated but firm, white and bold against the dark background, like they didn’t need to shout to be heard.
It hit you in the chest almost instantly—the slow pull of something familiar, something you hadn’t realized you’d missed until that very moment.
Soccer.
It wasn’t like you’d forgotten. How could you? You’d grown up with the game. The grass stains and the early morning practices, the feel of the ball at your feet and the way the world seemed to fall away when you were on the field. But you’d put it on hold when you came here, told yourself you needed to focus on other things—academics, Yale itself. It was supposed to be a fresh start. Something new. Soccer wasn’t part of the plan.
And yet, standing there, the sight of that booth made something heavy settle in your chest, something you’d been carrying without noticing. You hadn’t touched a ball in months, maybe longer, and it was like a part of you had been lying dormant.
You found yourself walking toward the booth before you could even process it, the noise of the fair fading into a dull hum as your attention locked onto the small group of guys behind the table. They weren’t trying to get people’s attention like the others were. No wild gestures or loud pitches. Just standing there, waiting, like they knew the right people would come to them without needing to ask.
And then there he was. The guy who caught your attention immediately. He wasn’t trying to stand out, but there was something about him that made you look twice. He was of average-height and had warm, beige skin that practically glowed in the late afternoon sun.
He was leaning casually against the table, arms folded across his chest, his wavy black hair a little messy like he’d just come from a workout. His eyes were dark, nearly black, and when he met your gaze, there was a flash of something—a kind of curiosity that felt sharper than the others’. The guy’s posture was relaxed, easy, like he didn’t need to sell anything, but you could see it in his eyes—he was watching. Assessing. Not in a judgmental way, more like he could tell who was serious and who was just passing by.
He didn’t say anything right away. He just stood there, watching you come closer. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, not quite a smile, more like a hint of one, the kind that said he was letting you make the first move.
You stopped in front of the table, your hands shoved into your pockets, suddenly hyper-aware of the weight of your silence. You weren’t even sure what you were doing here, why you’d stopped. The thought of playing soccer again felt both exciting and terrifying in equal measure. Did you still have it in you?
The guy with the wavy hair finally spoke, his voice low and calm, with an accent that was unmistakably Brazilian. The words were smooth, easy, like he wasn’t really asking, but more curious to see what you’d say. “Do you play?”
It caught you off guard, not just the question but the way he said it. It wasn’t just a casual inquiry, but something he was already guessing about you. Like he wasn’t just asking if you played soccer, but if you still knew it. If that part of you—the part that lived for the game, that felt the rush of adrenaline every time your foot connected with the ball—was still there.
*[[You blinked, then nodded, your voice coming out more hesitant than you’d planned. “Yeah, I… I used to. In high school.”|Men's Soccer 1.1][$Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[“Well, I don’t really look like I’m here for sightseeing, do I?” you drawled sarcastically.|Men's Soccer 1.2][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100); $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[“Yeah,” you said simply, your voice steady. “I played in high school.”|Men's Soccer 1.3][$Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[“Of course I play,” you said, a slight edge of arrogance in your voice. “I’ve been playing my whole life.”|Men's Soccer 1.4][$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[“Yeah,” you said softly, a small, genuine smile tugging at your lips. “I played. Grew up with it, really.”|Men's Soccer 1.5][$Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100)]]It was not the loudest booth by far, not the one with banners and neon signs screaming for attention. But there, tucked between a student acapella group and some robotics team, was a booth with a plain navy banner hanging loosely over the front of the table: <strong>Yale Women’s Soccer</strong>. The letters were understated but firm, white and bold against the dark background, like they didn’t need to shout to be heard.
It hit you in the chest almost instantly—the slow pull of something familiar, something you hadn’t realized you’d missed until that very moment.
Soccer.
It wasn’t like you’d forgotten. How could you? You’d grown up with the game. The grass stains and the early morning practices, the feel of the ball at your feet and the way the world seemed to fall away when you were on the field. But you’d put it on hold when you came here, told yourself you needed to focus on other things—academics, Yale itself. It was supposed to be a fresh start. Something new. Soccer wasn’t part of the plan.
And yet, standing there, the sight of that booth made something heavy settle in your chest, something you’d been carrying without noticing. You hadn’t touched a ball in months, maybe longer, and it was like a part of you had been lying dormant.
You found yourself walking toward the booth before you could even process it, the noise of the fair fading into a dull hum as your attention locked onto the small group of girls behind the table. They weren’t trying to get people’s attention like the others were. No wild gestures or loud pitches. Just standing there, waiting, like they knew the right people would come to them without needing to ask.
And then there she was. The woman who caught your attention immediately. She wasn’t trying to stand out, but there was something about her that made you look twice. She was tall, with warm beige skin that practically glowed in the late afternoon sun, and she moved with an easy confidence that spoke volumes.
Raquel was leaning casually against the table, arms folded across her chest, her long, dark hair cascading in waves down her back, giving her an effortlessly cool look. Her eyes were a rich brown, nearly black, sparkling with enthusiasm, and when she met your gaze, there was a flash of something—a kind of curiosity that felt sharper than the others’. Her posture was relaxed, easy, like she didn’t need to sell anything, but you could see it in her eyes—she was watching. Assessing. Not in a judgmental way, but more like she could tell who was serious and who was just passing by.
She didn’t say anything right away. She just stood there, watching you come closer. The corners of her mouth lifted slightly, not quite a smile, more like a hint of one, the kind that said she was letting you make the first move.
You stopped in front of the table, your hands shoved into your pockets, suddenly hyper-aware of the weight of your silence. You weren’t even sure what you were doing here, why you’d stopped. The thought of playing soccer again felt both exciting and terrifying in equal measure. Did you still have it in you?
Raquel finally spoke, her voice low and calm, with a warm lilt that made it feel like a friendly invitation. “So, do you play?”
It caught you off guard, not just the question but the way she said it. It wasn’t just a casual inquiry, but something she was already guessing about you. Like she wasn’t just asking if you played soccer, but if you still knew it. If that part of you—the part that lived for the game, that felt the rush of adrenaline every time your foot connected with the ball—was still there.
*[[You blinked, then nodded, your voice coming out more hesitant than you’d planned. “Yeah, I… I used to. In high school.”|Women's Soccer 1.1][$Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[“Well, I don’t really look like I’m here for sightseeing, do I?” you drawled sarcastically.|Women's Soccer 1.2][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100); $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[“Yeah,” you said simply, your voice steady. “I played in high school.”|Women's Soccer 1.3][$Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[“Of course I play,” you said, a slight edge of arrogance in your voice. “I’ve been playing my whole life.”|Women's Soccer 1.4][$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[“Yeah,” you said softly, a small, genuine smile tugging at your lips. “I played. Grew up with it, really.”|Women's Soccer 1.5][$Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100)]]Tucked in the shadows of a banner that had seen better days, you found the <strong>Yale Men’s Ice Hockey</strong> booth. The players clustered behind it were loud in that easy, thoughtless way people are when they’ve never questioned whether they belong. A few students leaned over the table, scribbling their names on a sheet that looked more like a sign-up form.
You knew how it usually worked. Yale picked its Division I players out of prep schools like apples off a tree. But there were exceptions—players they plucked out of obscurity, skaters who carved themselves into the ice sharp enough that even the NHL noticed. The mere knowledge of that made your head fill up with the possibilities that included you.
But it had been months since you’d laced up. Maybe longer. You’d said you didn’t care anymore, that hockey had been another life and you’d left it behind. Yale was about grades, connections, bullet-point extracurriculars that’d look perfect on your resume. That was the script you fed yourself. But standing there, the smell of sweat and cold ghosting your memory, the faint scrape of blades echoing in your head, you felt the lie start to unravel. The old pull was there. It had always been there.
Your feet moved before your brain caught up. The closer you came, the more the noise of the fair seemed to dissolve, thinning into background static.
One of the players noticed you. He wasn’t the biggest, not by a mile, but something about the way he straightened up made you certain he was the one in charge. His eyes were dark and made you think of a falcon’s.
“You play?” he simply asked once he was done with inspecting you for the time being.
His voice tilted the words slightly off-center, not quite American, but not foreign enough for you to wonder too much. You caught the accent and pinned it down: Canadian.
You hesitated for a second, not sure why you suddenly felt like a deer caught in headlights.
*[[“Yeah,” you replied nervously, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “In high school.”|Men's Ice Hockey 2][$Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Humble"]]
*[[“Yeah, I did,” you said with a smile, the memory of it sliding into place as naturally as if you'd never left the ice. “In high school.”|Men's Ice Hockey 2][$Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Friendly"]]
*[[“Yeah,” you said, your eyes meeting his, unblinking. “I played in high school.”|Men's Ice Hockey 2][$Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Aloof"]]
*[[“Play?” you repeated, leaning back just a little, letting the weight of your confidence settle into the space between you. “Yeah, I played. High school. Junior league. You name it.”|Men's Ice Hockey 2][$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Arrogant"]]
*[[“Yeah,” you said, the word gentle, filled with more than just the acknowledgment of a sport. “I played. High school team. Grew up with it, really.”|Men's Ice Hockey 2][$Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Genuine"]]Tucked in the shadows of a banner that had seen better days, you found the <strong>Yale Women’s Ice Hockey</strong> booth. The players clustered behind it were loud in that easy, thoughtless way people are when they’ve never questioned whether they belong. A few students leaned over the table, scribbling their names on a sheet that looked like a sign-up form.
You knew how it usually worked. Yale picked its Division I players out of prep schools like apples off a tree. But there were exceptions—players they plucked out of obscurity, skaters who carved themselves into the ice sharp enough that even the NHL noticed. The mere knowledge of that made your head fill up with the possibilities that included you.
But it had been months since you’d laced up. Maybe longer. You’d said you didn’t care anymore, that hockey had been another life and you’d left it behind. Yale was about grades, connections, bullet-point extracurriculars that’d look perfect on your resume. That was the script you fed yourself. But standing there, the smell of sweat and cold ghosting your memory, the faint scrape of blades echoing in your head, you felt the lie start to unravel. The old pull was there. It had always been there.
Your feet moved before your brain caught up. The closer you came, the more the noise of the fair seemed to dissolve, thinning into background static.
One of the players noticed you. She wasn’t the biggest, not by a mile, but something about the way she straightened up made you certain she was the one in charge. Her eyes were dark and made you think of a falcon’s.
“You play?” she simply asked once she was done with inspecting you for the time being.
Her voice tilted the words slightly off-center, not quite American, but not foreign enough for you to wonder too much. You caught the accent and pinned it down: Canadian.
You hesitated for a second, not sure why you suddenly felt like a deer caught in headlights.
*[[“Yeah,” you replied nervously, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “In high school.”|Women's Ice Hockey 2][$Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Humble"]]
*[[“Yeah, I did,” you said with a smile, the memory of it sliding into place as naturally as if you'd never left the ice. “In high school.”|Women's Ice Hockey 2][$Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Friendly"]]
*[[“Yeah,” you said, your eyes meeting hers, unblinking. “I played in high school.”|Women's Ice Hockey 2][$Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Aloof"]]
*[[“Play?” you repeated, leaning back just a little, letting the weight of your confidence settle into the space between you. “Yeah, I played. High school. Junior league. You name it.”|Women's Ice Hockey 2][$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Arrogant"]]
*[[“Yeah,” you said, the word gentle, filled with more than just the acknowledgment of a sport. “I played. High school team. Grew up with it, really.”|Women's Ice Hockey 2][$Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Genuine"]]<<notify>>+ $stat1<</notify>>The guy didn’t press you for more information. He just nodded, his gaze still steady, still reading you in ways you couldn’t quite understand. His lips quirked into a small, knowing smile, like he could tell more about you from the way you carried yourself than anything you could say.
You let the memories spill out, your voice quiet. “It’s funny, you know? You think you’ll move on, that it’ll just be something you did in high school, but it sticks with you. The early mornings, the way the ice smells, the way your body remembers how to move even before your mind catches up.”
“I can understand the feeling,” he said, smiling before offering his hand. His grip was firm when you shook it. “I’m Drew. Team captain.”
You nodded and responded with your own name. Drew didn’t say it outright, but you could tell he already knew. He could see it in the way you stood, the way your shoulders held a certain kind of tension, like you were still used to bracing for impact. He could see the way your eyes flicked toward the ice hockey booth with more than just passing interest. He didn’t have to ask if you were good, because he could <em>feel</em> it.
“Were you dodging scouts back in high school?” he asked. His tone was light, teasing, but there was a hint of seriousness there as well.
You blinked at him, caught off guard. “Maybe I wasn’t ever good enough to be scouted.”
Drew snorted, not buying what you were selling. “I call bull on that.”
“Why?” you asked before you could stop yourself.
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “I don’t know. Just got a good feeling about you. My instincts don’t screw me over much, so I trust them.”
Skepticism tangled with hope with your chest.
“Ever thought about playing for Yale?” he asked then, voice shifting to be more serious.
You hesitated. “I don’t know.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said, easy as anything. “You’ll get the hang of it once you’re on the ice.”
You could tell he meant it, that he’d lived it, that there had been times when he’d been away from the ice and had to fight his way back. There was a certainty in his voice that made you believe him, whether you wanted to or not.
Drew leaned back a little, his eyes never leaving yours. “We’ve got tryouts next week. You should come by. See how it feels.”
Your gaze drifted down to the table, to the flyer resting there. Plain white paper, neat black type. Friday. 4 p.m. Ingalls Rink. It was unremarkable and yet your pulse stuttered just looking at it. You could almost feel the bite of cold air in your lungs, the clean, hard surface of the ice under your blades.
When you looked back up, Drew was watching you. His eyes were dark and steady and waiting.
“I’m from the Cree Nation,” he said after a pause. “Mistissini. Up in Quebec.”
You nodded, unsure where he was going.
“I mean it when I say I get it,” he continued. “Coming to a place like this, it messes with your head. Makes you think you’ve got to cut things off to move forward. But you don’t have to. You can make space for what matters.”
You swallowed, throat tightening up. Hockey had never been just a sport to you. It had been an anchor, the one thing that made sense when everything else tilted sideways.
Drew didn’t push again. He didn’t need to. You could feel the decision forming even as you tried to hold it off.
“I’ll think about it,” you said, though your hand was already moving, pen scratching your name across the sheet.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.10]]*/<<notify>>+ $stat1<</notify>>The girl didn’t press you for more information. She just nodded, her gaze still steady, still reading you in ways you couldn’t quite understand. Her lips quirked into a small, knowing smile, like she could tell more about you from the way you carried yourself than anything you could say.
You let the memories spill out, your voice quiet. “It’s funny, you know? You think you’ll move on, that it’ll just be something you did in high school, but it sticks with you. The early mornings, the way the ice smells, the way your body remembers how to move even before your mind catches up.”
“I can understand the feeling,” she said, smiling before offering her hand. Her grip was firm when you shook it. “I’m Drea. Team captain.”
You nodded and responded with your own name. Drea didn’t say it outright, but you could tell she already knew. She could see it in the way you stood, the way your shoulders held a certain kind of tension, like you were still used to bracing for impact. She could see the way your eyes flicked toward the ice hockey booth with more than just passing interest. She didn’t have to ask if you were good, because she could <em>feel</em> it.
“Were you dodging scouts back in high school?” she asked. Her tone was light, teasing, but there was a hint of seriousness there as well.
You blinked at her, caught off guard. “Maybe I wasn’t ever good enough to be scouted.”
Drea snorted, not buying what you were selling. “I call bull on that.”
“Why?” you asked before you could stop yourself.
She tilted her head, eyes narrowing. “I don’t know. Just got a good feeling about you. My instincts don’t screw me over much, so I trust them.”
Skepticism tangled with hope with your chest.
“Ever thought about playing for Yale?” she asked then, voice shifting to be more serious.
You hesitated. “I don’t know.”
“Doesn’t matter,” she said, easy as anything. “You’ll get the hang of it once you’re on the ice.”
You could tell she meant it, that she’d lived it, that there had been times when she’d been away from the ice and had to fight her way back. There was a certainty in her voice that made you believe her, whether you wanted to or not.
Drea leaned back a little, her eyes never leaving yours. “We’ve got tryouts next week. You should come by. See how it feels.”
Your gaze drifted down to the table, to the flyer resting there. Plain white paper, neat black type. Friday. 4 p.m. Ingalls Rink. It was unremarkable and yet your pulse stuttered just looking at it. You could almost feel the bite of cold air in your lungs, the clean, hard surface of the ice under your blades.
When you looked back up, Drea was watching you. Her eyes were dark and steady and waiting.
“I’m from the Cree Nation,” she said after a pause. “Mistissini. Up in Quebec.”
You nodded, unsure where she was going.
“I mean it when I say I get it,” she continued. “Coming to a place like this, it messes with your head. Makes you think you’ve got to cut things off to move forward. But you don’t have to. You can make space for what matters.”
You swallowed, throat tightening up. Hockey had never been just a sport to you. It had been an anchor, the one thing that made sense when everything else tilted sideways.
Drea didn’t push again. She didn’t need to. You could feel the decision forming even as you tried to hold it off.
“I’ll think about it,” you said, though your hand was already moving, pen scratching your name across the sheet.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.10]]*/<<notify>>+ Humble<</notify>>Your voice came out quieter than you expected, and you felt yourself shift your weight from one foot to the other, like you weren’t quite sure how to stand under the weight of his gaze. It felt strange to admit it out loud, like saying it might make it real in a way you hadn’t thought about for a long time.
“In high school,” you repeated, like you needed to clarify, to make sure he knew you weren’t coming in here with grand expectations. It had been a while. You weren’t sure if you could still play like you used to. It was strange to even think about it.
The guy didn’t say anything right away, just gave you a small nod. His eyes didn’t leave yours, and for a second, you felt like he saw something in you that you hadn’t even said yet. Like he knew, without you telling him, that soccer had been more than just a hobby. That it had been part of your life in a way you weren’t ready to let go of.
“High school,” he echoed, and there was something warm in his voice, something that made you feel less small for saying it. He leaned against the table, his posture easy, relaxed. “Well, you’re at Yale now. Doesn’t matter how long it’s been. The field’s still there.”
You weren’t sure what to say, so you just nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. He didn’t push, didn’t ask if you were good or how serious you were. He didn’t need to. There was something in the way he looked at you that said he understood it without needing to ask.
Rafael’s smile widened, just a fraction, but it was enough to make his dark eyes crinkle at the corners. He paused for a second, glancing at the flier on the table before meeting your eyes again. “Reese Stadium. Thursday, 1:00 p.m. You should definitely come.”
It wasn’t a hard sell, just a simple statement, but there was something about the way he said it that made you feel like it wasn’t really a question. Like he already knew you’d show up, even if you didn’t.
You looked at the flier, your mind spinning. Reese Stadium. You’d heard about it. The cathedral of Yale sports. The idea of stepping onto that field, feeling the ball under your feet again, the adrenaline coursing through your veins—it stirred something in you, something you’d tried to bury but couldn’t.
“I’ll think about it,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant, though you could feel your heart picking up speed just thinking about it.
Rafael studied you for a moment, then nodded, his smile turning softer, more genuine. “That’s all I’m asking.”
He glanced down at the table for a moment, then back at you, his voice softer now, more sincere. “I don’t know why you’re here, but if you’re like me—like us—you’re probably here because part of you knows you’re not done yet.”
The words hit harder than you expected, settling deep in your chest. You swallowed, the weight of them pressing against something you hadn’t realized was still raw.
You didn’t respond right away, just stood there, your mind spinning with memories of the field, the smell of grass, the sound of cleats hitting the ground. The roar of the crowd in the distance, the rush of adrenaline as the ball connected with your foot. It had been so long since you’d felt that, and yet, the thought of walking away from it for good felt wrong. Like closing a door that shouldn’t be shut yet.
Finally, you looked back at Rafael, his steady gaze still on you, waiting, not pushing. You reached out, almost without thinking, and picked up the flier. The paper was cool under your fingers, the weight of the decision settling in your hand.
“I’ll think about it,” you repeated, but even as you said it, you knew it was a lie. You’d be there, at the stadium. You could already see it—the bright lights, the stretch of green turf under your feet, the ball at the center of it all.
Rafael’s smile returned, wider now, like he could see the decision already written in your eyes. He didn’t need to push anymore. “See you there.”
You nodded, turning to leave, but even as you walked away, the sound of the fair seemed to fade into the background. Soccer had a way of pulling you back in, whether you were ready for it or not. And here, in this moment, it felt like something had shifted.
Soccer wasn’t done with you yet.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.10]]*/<<notify>>+ Sarcastic<</notify>>The words slipped out before you could stop them, a sharp edge to your tone that surprised even you. Maybe it was a defense mechanism—an automatic response when someone asked something that hit a little too close to home. You weren’t sure. But there it was, hanging in the air between you and the guy in front of you.
For a second, you thought you’d gone too far, that maybe you’d offended him or something. But instead of looking annoyed, the guy just raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into an amused smile.
“No,” he said, his voice light and easy, like he wasn’t fazed by your tone at all. “I guess not.”
There was something about the way he said it that made you relax a little. He wasn’t taking you too seriously, and somehow that made it easier to drop the sarcasm, to let yourself just be there in the moment without the need to keep your guard up.
Rafael’s smile widened, just a fraction, but it was enough to make his dark eyes crinkle at the corners. He paused for a second, glancing at the flier on the table before meeting your eyes again. “Reese Stadium. Thursday, 1:00 p.m. You should definitely come.”
It wasn’t a hard sell, just a simple statement, but there was something about the way he said it that made you feel like it wasn’t really a question. Like he already knew you’d show up, even if you didn’t.
You looked at the flier, your mind spinning. Reese Stadium. You’d heard about it. The cathedral of Yale sports. The idea of stepping onto that field, feeling the ball under your feet again, the adrenaline coursing through your veins—it stirred something in you, something you’d tried to bury but couldn’t.
“I’ll think about it,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant, though you could feel your heart picking up speed just thinking about it.
Rafael studied you for a moment, then nodded, his smile turning softer, more genuine. “That’s all I’m asking.”
He glanced down at the table for a moment, then back at you, his voice softer now, more sincere. “I don’t know why you’re here, but if you’re like me—like us—you’re probably here because part of you knows you’re not done yet.”
The words hit harder than you expected, settling deep in your chest. You swallowed, the weight of them pressing against something you hadn’t realized was still raw.
You didn’t respond right away, just stood there, your mind spinning with memories of the field, the smell of grass, the sound of cleats hitting the ground. The roar of the crowd in the distance, the rush of adrenaline as the ball connected with your foot. It had been so long since you’d felt that, and yet, the thought of walking away from it for good felt wrong. Like closing a door that shouldn’t be shut yet.
Finally, you looked back at Rafael, his steady gaze still on you, waiting, not pushing. You reached out, almost without thinking, and picked up the flier. The paper was cool under your fingers, the weight of the decision settling in your hand.
“I’ll think about it,” you repeated, but even as you said it, you knew it was a lie. You’d be there, at the stadium. You could already see it—the bright lights, the stretch of green turf under your feet, the ball at the center of it all.
Rafael’s smile returned, wider now, like he could see the decision already written in your eyes. He didn’t need to push anymore. “See you there.”
You nodded, turning to leave, but even as you walked away, the sound of the fair seemed to fade into the background. Soccer had a way of pulling you back in, whether you were ready for it or not. And here, in this moment, it felt like something had shifted.
Soccer wasn’t done with you yet.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.10]]*/<<notify>>+ Aloof<</notify>>You didn’t give him much more than that, and you didn’t feel the need to. There was no point in telling stories about the games you’d won or the teams you’d played for. Soccer wasn’t something you needed to explain or justify. You’d played. That was enough.
The guy studied you for a moment, his dark eyes thoughtful, but he didn’t press for more. There was no need to. It felt like he understood something about you without needing the details, like he could see that soccer wasn’t just some passing interest for you. It was something that ran deeper, something that didn’t need to be talked about to be understood.
“Good,” he said after a beat, his voice calm but certain. “You’ll fit in here.”
He didn’t sound like he was guessing. He sounded like he already knew. There was a quiet confidence in the way he said it, like he’d seen a hundred people like you before and could already tell you’d find your place on the team.
Rafael’s smile widened, just a fraction, but it was enough to make his dark eyes crinkle at the corners. He paused for a second, glancing at the flier on the table before meeting your eyes again. “Reese Stadium. Thursday, 1:00 p.m. You should definitely come.”
It wasn’t a hard sell, just a simple statement, but there was something about the way he said it that made you feel like it wasn’t really a question. Like he already knew you’d show up, even if you didn’t.
You looked at the flier, your mind spinning. Reese Stadium. You’d heard about it. The cathedral of Yale sports. The idea of stepping onto that field, feeling the ball under your feet again, the adrenaline coursing through your veins—it stirred something in you, something you’d tried to bury but couldn’t.
“I’ll think about it,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant, though you could feel your heart picking up speed just thinking about it.
Rafael studied you for a moment, then nodded, his smile turning softer, more genuine. “That’s all I’m asking.”
He glanced down at the table for a moment, then back at you, his voice softer now, more sincere. “I don’t know why you’re here, but if you’re like me—like us—you’re probably here because part of you knows you’re not done yet.”
The words hit harder than you expected, settling deep in your chest. You swallowed, the weight of them pressing against something you hadn’t realized was still raw.
You didn’t respond right away, just stood there, your mind spinning with memories of the field, the smell of grass, the sound of cleats hitting the ground. The roar of the crowd in the distance, the rush of adrenaline as the ball connected with your foot. It had been so long since you’d felt that, and yet, the thought of walking away from it for good felt wrong. Like closing a door that shouldn’t be shut yet.
Finally, you looked back at Rafael, his steady gaze still on you, waiting, not pushing. You reached out, almost without thinking, and picked up the flier. The paper was cool under your fingers, the weight of the decision settling in your hand.
“I’ll think about it,” you repeated, but even as you said it, you knew it was a lie. You’d be there, at the stadium. You could already see it—the bright lights, the stretch of green turf under your feet, the ball at the center of it all.
Rafael’s smile returned, wider now, like he could see the decision already written in your eyes. He didn’t need to push anymore. “See you there.”
You nodded, turning to leave, but even as you walked away, the sound of the fair seemed to fade into the background. Soccer had a way of pulling you back in, whether you were ready for it or not. And here, in this moment, it felt like something had shifted.
Soccer wasn’t done with you yet.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.10]]*/<<notify>>+ Arrogant<</notify>>You didn’t even bother trying to soften the edge in your voice. You didn’t need to. Soccer had been part of your life for as long as you could remember, and you weren’t about to downplay that now. You were good, and you knew it.
The guy didn’t flinch at your tone. In fact, his smile widened just a little, like he wasn’t surprised by your confidence at all. He crossed his arms over his chest, his posture still easy, but there was a glint in his eyes now, like he recognized something in you.
Rafael’s smile widened, just a fraction, but it was enough to make his dark eyes crinkle at the corners. He paused for a second, glancing at the flier on the table before meeting your eyes again. “Reese Stadium. Thursday, 1:00 p.m. You should definitely come.”
It wasn’t a hard sell, just a simple statement, but there was something about the way he said it that made you feel like it wasn’t really a question. Like he already knew you’d show up, even if you didn’t.
You looked at the flier, your mind spinning. Reese Stadium. You’d heard about it. The cathedral of Yale sports. The idea of stepping onto that field, feeling the ball under your feet again, the adrenaline coursing through your veins—it stirred something in you, something you’d tried to bury but couldn’t.
“I’ll think about it,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant, though you could feel your heart picking up speed just thinking about it.
Rafael studied you for a moment, then nodded, his smile turning softer, more genuine. “That’s all I’m asking.”
He glanced down at the table for a moment, then back at you, his voice softer now, more sincere. “I don’t know why you’re here, but if you’re like me—like us—you’re probably here because part of you knows you’re not done yet.”
The words hit harder than you expected, settling deep in your chest. You swallowed, the weight of them pressing against something you hadn’t realized was still raw.
You didn’t respond right away, just stood there, your mind spinning with memories of the field, the smell of grass, the sound of cleats hitting the ground. The roar of the crowd in the distance, the rush of adrenaline as the ball connected with your foot. It had been so long since you’d felt that, and yet, the thought of walking away from it for good felt wrong. Like closing a door that shouldn’t be shut yet.
Finally, you looked back at Rafael, his steady gaze still on you, waiting, not pushing. You reached out, almost without thinking, and picked up the flier. The paper was cool under your fingers, the weight of the decision settling in your hand.
“I’ll think about it,” you repeated, but even as you said it, you knew it was a lie. You’d be there, at the stadium. You could already see it—the bright lights, the stretch of green turf under your feet, the ball at the center of it all.
Rafael’s smile returned, wider now, like he could see the decision already written in your eyes. He didn’t need to push anymore. “See you there.”
You nodded, turning to leave, but even as you walked away, the sound of the fair seemed to fade into the background. Soccer had a way of pulling you back in, whether you were ready for it or not. And here, in this moment, it felt like something had shifted.
Soccer wasn’t done with you yet.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.10]]*/<<notify>>+ Genuine<</notify>>Your voice softened a little as you said it, and for the first time in a while, it didn’t feel like you were just answering a question. It felt like you were sharing something, like you were letting him see a part of yourself that you didn’t always talk about. Soccer had been part of your life for as long as you could remember, and saying it out loud now felt like acknowledging something real, something important.
The guy’s smile softened too, and for a moment, the noise of the fair seemed to fade into the background. There was something quiet and understanding in the way he looked at you, like he got it. Like he knew that soccer wasn’t just a game for you—it was part of who you were.
Rafael’s smile widened, just a fraction, but it was enough to make his dark eyes crinkle at the corners. He paused for a second, glancing at the flier on the table before meeting your eyes again. “Reese Stadium. Thursday, 1:00 p.m. You should definitely come.”
It wasn’t a hard sell, just a simple statement, but there was something about the way he said it that made you feel like it wasn’t really a question. Like he already knew you’d show up, even if you didn’t.
You looked at the flier, your mind spinning. Reese Stadium. You’d heard about it. The cathedral of Yale sports. The idea of stepping onto that field, feeling the ball under your feet again, the adrenaline coursing through your veins—it stirred something in you, something you’d tried to bury but couldn’t.
“I’ll think about it,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant, though you could feel your heart picking up speed just thinking about it.
Rafael studied you for a moment, then nodded, his smile turning softer, more genuine. “That’s all I’m asking.”
He glanced down at the table for a moment, then back at you, his voice softer now, more sincere. “I don’t know why you’re here, but if you’re like me—like us—you’re probably here because part of you knows you’re not done yet.”
The words hit harder than you expected, settling deep in your chest. You swallowed, the weight of them pressing against something you hadn’t realized was still raw.
You didn’t respond right away, just stood there, your mind spinning with memories of the field, the smell of grass, the sound of cleats hitting the ground. The roar of the crowd in the distance, the rush of adrenaline as the ball connected with your foot. It had been so long since you’d felt that, and yet, the thought of walking away from it for good felt wrong. Like closing a door that shouldn’t be shut yet.
Finally, you looked back at Rafael, his steady gaze still on you, waiting, not pushing. You reached out, almost without thinking, and picked up the flier. The paper was cool under your fingers, the weight of the decision settling in your hand.
“I’ll think about it,” you repeated, but even as you said it, you knew it was a lie. You’d be there, at the stadium. You could already see it—the bright lights, the stretch of green turf under your feet, the ball at the center of it all.
Rafael’s smile returned, wider now, like he could see the decision already written in your eyes. He didn’t need to push anymore. “See you there.”
You nodded, turning to leave, but even as you walked away, the sound of the fair seemed to fade into the background. Soccer had a way of pulling you back in, whether you were ready for it or not. And here, in this moment, it felt like something had shifted.
Soccer wasn’t done with you yet.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.10]]*/<<notify>>+ Humble<</notify>>Your voice came out quieter than you expected, and you felt yourself shift your weight from one foot to the other, like you weren’t quite sure how to stand under the weight of her gaze. It felt strange to admit it out loud, like saying it might make it real in a way you hadn’t thought about for a long time.
“In high school,” you repeated, like you needed to clarify, to make sure she knew you weren’t coming in here with grand expectations. It had been a while. You weren’t sure if you could still play like you used to. It was strange to even think about it.
Raquel didn’t say anything right away, just gave you a small nod. Her eyes didn’t leave yours, and for a second, you felt like she saw something in you that you hadn’t even said yet. Like she knew, without you telling her, that soccer had been more than just a hobby. That it had been part of your life in a way you weren’t ready to let go of.
“High school,” she echoed, her voice warm and inviting. “Well, you’re at Yale now. Doesn’t matter how long it’s been. The field’s still there.”
You weren’t sure what to say, so you just nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. She didn’t push, didn’t ask if you were good or how serious you were. She didn’t need to. There was something in the way she looked at you that said she understood it without needing to ask.
“Look, we’ve got tryouts next week,” she said, her voice growing more animated as she gestured to a flier on the table. “Reese Stadium. Thursday, 1:00 p.m. You should definitely come.”
It wasn’t a hard sell, just a simple statement, but there was something about the way she said it that made you feel like it wasn’t really a question. Like she already knew you’d show up, even if you didn’t.
You looked at the flier, your mind spinning. Reese Stadium. You’d heard about it. The cathedral of Yale sports. The idea of stepping onto that field, feeling the ball under your feet again, the adrenaline coursing through your veins—it stirred something in you, something you’d tried to bury but couldn’t.
“I’ll think about it,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant, though you could feel your heart picking up speed just thinking about it.
Raquel studied you for a moment, then nodded, her smile turning softer, more genuine. “That’s all I’m asking.”
She glanced down at the table for a moment, then back at you, her voice softer now, more sincere. “I don’t know why you’re here, but if you’re like me—like us—you’re probably here because part of you knows you’re not done yet.”
The words hit harder than you expected, settling deep in your chest. You swallowed, the weight of them pressing against something you hadn’t realized was still raw.
You didn’t respond right away, just stood there, your mind spinning with memories of the field, the smell of grass, the sound of cleats hitting the ground. The roar of the crowd in the distance, the rush of adrenaline as the ball connected with your foot. It had been so long since you’d felt that, and yet, the thought of walking away from it for good felt wrong. Like closing a door that shouldn’t be shut yet.
Finally, you looked back at Raquel, her steady gaze still on you, waiting, not pushing. You reached out, almost without thinking, and picked up the flier. The paper was cool under your fingers, the weight of the decision settling in your hand.
“I’ll think about it,” you repeated, but even as you said it, you knew it was a lie. You’d be there, at the stadium. You could already see it—the bright lights, the stretch of green turf under your feet, the ball at the center of it all.
Raquel’s smile returned, wider now, like she could see the decision already written in your eyes. She didn’t need to push anymore. “See you there.”
You nodded, turning to leave, but even as you walked away, the sound of the fair seemed to fade into the background. Soccer had a way of pulling you back in, whether you were ready for it or not. And here, in this moment, it felt like something had shifted.
Soccer wasn’t done with you yet.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.10]]*/<<notify>>+ Sarcastic<</notify>>The words slipped out before you could stop them, a sharp edge to your tone that surprised even you. Maybe it was a defense mechanism—an automatic response when someone asked something that hit a little too close to home. You weren’t sure. But there it was, hanging in the air between you and Raquel.
For a second, you thought you’d gone too far, that maybe you’d offended her or something. But instead of looking annoyed, Raquel just raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into an amused smile.
“No,” she said, her voice light and easy, like she wasn’t fazed by your tone at all. “I guess not.”
There was something about the way she said it that made you relax a little. She wasn’t taking you too seriously, and somehow that made it easier to drop the sarcasm, to let yourself just be there in the moment without the need to keep your guard up.
“Look, we’ve got tryouts next week,” she said, her voice growing more animated as she gestured to a flier on the table. “Reese Stadium. Thursday, 1:00 p.m. You should definitely come.”
It wasn’t a hard sell, just a simple statement, but there was something about the way she said it that made you feel like it wasn’t really a question. Like she already knew you’d show up, even if you didn’t.
You looked at the flier, your mind spinning. Reese Stadium. You’d heard about it. The cathedral of Yale sports. The idea of stepping onto that field, feeling the ball under your feet again, the adrenaline coursing through your veins—it stirred something in you, something you’d tried to bury but couldn’t.
“I’ll think about it,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant, though you could feel your heart picking up speed just thinking about it.
Raquel studied you for a moment, then nodded, her smile turning softer, more genuine. “That’s all I’m asking.”
She glanced down at the table for a moment, then back at you, her voice softer now, more sincere. “I don’t know why you’re here, but if you’re like me—like us—you’re probably here because part of you knows you’re not done yet.”
The words hit harder than you expected, settling deep in your chest. You swallowed, the weight of them pressing against something you hadn’t realized was still raw.
You didn’t respond right away, just stood there, your mind spinning with memories of the field, the smell of grass, the sound of cleats hitting the ground. The roar of the crowd in the distance, the rush of adrenaline as the ball connected with your foot. It had been so long since you’d felt that, and yet, the thought of walking away from it for good felt wrong. Like closing a door that shouldn’t be shut yet.
Finally, you looked back at Raquel, her steady gaze still on you, waiting, not pushing. You reached out, almost without thinking, and picked up the flier. The paper was cool under your fingers, the weight of the decision settling in your hand.
“I’ll think about it,” you repeated, but even as you said it, you knew it was a lie. You’d be there, at the stadium. You could already see it—the bright lights, the stretch of green turf under your feet, the ball at the center of it all.
Raquel’s smile returned, wider now, like she could see the decision already written in your eyes. She didn’t need to push anymore. “See you there.”
You nodded, turning to leave, but even as you walked away, the sound of the fair seemed to fade into the background. Soccer had a way of pulling you back in, whether you were ready for it or not. And here, in this moment, it felt like something had shifted.
Soccer wasn’t done with you yet.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.10]]*/<<notify>>+ Aloof<</notify>>You didn’t give her much more than that, and you didn’t feel the need to. There was no point in telling stories about the games you’d won or the teams you’d played for. Soccer wasn’t something you needed to explain or justify. You’d played. That was enough.
Raquel studied you for a moment, her brown eyes thoughtful, but she didn’t press for more. There was no need to. It felt like she understood something about you without needing the details, like she could see that soccer wasn’t just some passing interest for you. It was something that ran deeper, something that didn’t need to be talked about to be understood.
“Good,” she said after a beat, her voice calm but certain. “You’ll fit in here.”
She didn’t sound like she was guessing. She sounded like she already knew. There was a quiet confidence in the way she said it, like she’d seen a hundred people like you before and could already tell you’d find your place on the team.
“Look, we’ve got tryouts next week,” she said, her voice growing more animated as she gestured to a flier on the table. “Reese Stadium. Thursday, 1:00 p.m. You should definitely come.”
It wasn’t a hard sell, just a simple statement, but there was something about the way she said it that made you feel like it wasn’t really a question. Like she already knew you’d show up, even if you didn’t.
You looked at the flier, your mind spinning. Reese Stadium. You’d heard about it. The cathedral of Yale sports. The idea of stepping onto that field, feeling the ball under your feet again, the adrenaline coursing through your veins—it stirred something in you, something you’d tried to bury but couldn’t.
“I’ll think about it,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant, though you could feel your heart picking up speed just thinking about it.
Raquel studied you for a moment, then nodded, her smile turning softer, more genuine. “That’s all I’m asking.”
She glanced down at the table for a moment, then back at you, her voice softer now, more sincere. “I don’t know why you’re here, but if you’re like me—like us—you’re probably here because part of you knows you’re not done yet.”
The words hit harder than you expected, settling deep in your chest. You swallowed, the weight of them pressing against something you hadn’t realized was still raw.
You didn’t respond right away, just stood there, your mind spinning with memories of the field, the smell of grass, the sound of cleats hitting the ground. The roar of the crowd in the distance, the rush of adrenaline as the ball connected with your foot. It had been so long since you’d felt that, and yet, the thought of walking away from it for good felt wrong. Like closing a door that shouldn’t be shut yet.
Finally, you looked back at Raquel, her steady gaze still on you, waiting, not pushing. You reached out, almost without thinking, and picked up the flier. The paper was cool under your fingers, the weight of the decision settling in your hand.
“I’ll think about it,” you repeated, but even as you said it, you knew it was a lie. You’d be there, at the stadium. You could already see it—the bright lights, the stretch of green turf under your feet, the ball at the center of it all.
Raquel’s smile returned, wider now, like she could see the decision already written in your eyes. She didn’t need to push anymore. “See you there.”
You nodded, turning to leave, but even as you walked away, the sound of the fair seemed to fade into the background. Soccer had a way of pulling you back in, whether you were ready for it or not. And here, in this moment, it felt like something had shifted.
Soccer wasn’t done with you yet.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.10]]*/<<notify>>+ Arrogant<</notify>>You didn’t even bother trying to soften the edge in your voice. You didn’t need to. Soccer had been part of your life for as long as you could remember, and you weren’t about to downplay that now. You were good, and you knew it.
Raquel didn’t flinch at your tone. In fact, her smile widened just a little, like she wasn’t surprised by your confidence at all. She crossed her arms over her chest, her posture still easy, but there was a glint in her eyes now, like she recognized something in you.
“Look, we’ve got tryouts next week,” she said, her voice growing more animated as she gestured to a flier on the table. “Reese Stadium. Thursday, 1:00 p.m. You should definitely come.”
It wasn’t a hard sell, just a simple statement, but there was something about the way she said it that made you feel like it wasn’t really a question. Like she already knew you’d show up, even if you didn’t.
You looked at the flier, your mind spinning. Reese Stadium. You’d heard about it. The cathedral of Yale sports. The idea of stepping onto that field, feeling the ball under your feet again, the adrenaline coursing through your veins—it stirred something in you, something you’d tried to bury but couldn’t.
“I’ll think about it,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant, though you could feel your heart picking up speed just thinking about it.
Raquel studied you for a moment, then nodded, her smile turning softer, more genuine. “That’s all I’m asking.”
She glanced down at the table for a moment, then back at you, her voice softer now, more sincere. “I don’t know why you’re here, but if you’re like me—like us—you’re probably here because part of you knows you’re not done yet.”
The words hit harder than you expected, settling deep in your chest. You swallowed, the weight of them pressing against something you hadn’t realized was still raw.
You didn’t respond right away, just stood there, your mind spinning with memories of the field, the smell of grass, the sound of cleats hitting the ground. The roar of the crowd in the distance, the rush of adrenaline as the ball connected with your foot. It had been so long since you’d felt that, and yet, the thought of walking away from it for good felt wrong. Like closing a door that shouldn’t be shut yet.
Finally, you looked back at Raquel, her steady gaze still on you, waiting, not pushing. You reached out, almost without thinking, and picked up the flier. The paper was cool under your fingers, the weight of the decision settling in your hand.
“I’ll think about it,” you repeated, but even as you said it, you knew it was a lie. You’d be there, at the stadium. You could already see it—the bright lights, the stretch of green turf under your feet, the ball at the center of it all.
Raquel’s smile returned, wider now, like she could see the decision already written in your eyes. She didn’t need to push anymore. “See you there.”
You nodded, turning to leave, but even as you walked away, the sound of the fair seemed to fade into the background. Soccer had a way of pulling you back in, whether you were ready for it or not. And here, in this moment, it felt like something had shifted.
Soccer wasn’t done with you yet.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.10]]*/<<notify>>+ Genuine<</notify>>Your voice softened a little as you said it, and for the first time in a while, it didn’t feel like you were just answering a question. It felt like you were sharing something, like you were letting her see a part of yourself that you didn’t always talk about. Soccer had been part of your life for as long as you could remember, and saying it out loud now felt like acknowledging something real, something important.
Raquel’s smile softened too, and for a moment, the noise of the fair seemed to fade into the background. There was something quiet and understanding in the way she looked at you, like she got it. Like she knew that soccer wasn’t just a game for you—it was part of who you were.
“Look, we’ve got tryouts next week,” she said, her voice growing more animated as she gestured to a flier on the table. “Reese Stadium. Thursday, 1:00 p.m. You should definitely come.”
It wasn’t a hard sell, just a simple statement, but there was something about the way she said it that made you feel like it wasn’t really a question. Like she already knew you’d show up, even if you didn’t.
You looked at the flier, your mind spinning. Reese Stadium. You’d heard about it. The cathedral of Yale sports. The idea of stepping onto that field, feeling the ball under your feet again, the adrenaline coursing through your veins—it stirred something in you, something you’d tried to bury but couldn’t.
“I’ll think about it,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant, though you could feel your heart picking up speed just thinking about it.
Raquel studied you for a moment, then nodded, her smile turning softer, more genuine. “That’s all I’m asking.”
She glanced down at the table for a moment, then back at you, her voice softer now, more sincere. “I don’t know why you’re here, but if you’re like me—like us—you’re probably here because part of you knows you’re not done yet.”
The words hit harder than you expected, settling deep in your chest. You swallowed, the weight of them pressing against something you hadn’t realized was still raw.
You didn’t respond right away, just stood there, your mind spinning with memories of the field, the smell of grass, the sound of cleats hitting the ground. The roar of the crowd in the distance, the rush of adrenaline as the ball connected with your foot. It had been so long since you’d felt that, and yet, the thought of walking away from it for good felt wrong. Like closing a door that shouldn’t be shut yet.
Finally, you looked back at Raquel, her steady gaze still on you, waiting, not pushing. You reached out, almost without thinking, and picked up the flier. The paper was cool under your fingers, the weight of the decision settling in your hand.
“I’ll think about it,” you repeated, but even as you said it, you knew it was a lie. You’d be there, at the stadium. You could already see it—the bright lights, the stretch of green turf under your feet, the ball at the center of it all.
Raquel’s smile returned, wider now, like she could see the decision already written in your eyes. She didn’t need to push anymore. “See you there.”
You nodded, turning to leave, but even as you walked away, the sound of the fair seemed to fade into the background. Soccer had a way of pulling you back in, whether you were ready for it or not. And here, in this moment, it felt like something had shifted.
Soccer wasn’t done with you yet.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.10]]*/<<notify>>+ Impulsive<</notify>>There was a brief pause in the group’s argument, all eyes turning to you, some surprised, some mildly irritated. Michael straightened up, folding his arms across his chest and giving you a curious look. You felt a momentary flicker of doubt, realizing you’d just spoken up in the middle of a high-level technical debate. You could feel your heart race, but the words were out now, no turning back.
“It’s not the code,” you repeated confidently, your voice firm despite the rush of adrenaline. You nodded toward the screen. “That part is fine. The logic is correct. But the sensors—”
You trailed off, stepping closer to the robot. It was an impressive piece of work—sleek design, carefully engineered components—but there was something off about the positioning of the sensors. You bent down, pointing to the small receptors along the body of the robot.
“These aren’t calibrated correctly,” you said, standing up again. “They’re not aligned with the feedback loop you’ve programmed, so the robot doesn’t know where to send the signals. It’s trying to execute a command, but it’s not receiving any data from the environment.”
There was another pause, the group staring at you as if waiting for a catch, some error in your explanation. But instead, Michael gave a slow nod, his gaze sharpening as he studied the sensors himself.
“That... makes sense,” he said, more to himself than to anyone else. He turned to the others, his calm exterior giving way to the flicker of excitement. “Alright, realign the sensors. Let’s test it.”
There was a sudden flurry of movement, the students rushing to adjust the robot as Michael glanced back at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“You know your stuff,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “What’s your name?”
“$MC_firstname,” you introduced yourself with a nod.
“I’ll remember that,” he said, throwing you a friendly wink. “So, are you a Computer Science major? Engineering?”
<<if $MC_program is "Computer Science">>“The former,” you replied, feeling a small flush of pride at the compliment. It wasn’t every day you impressed the president of the most sought-after tech club at Yale. “But I’ve always been interested in…”<<elseif $MC_program is "Mechanical Engineering">>“The latter,” you replied, feeling a small flush of pride at the compliment. It wasn’t every day you impressed the president of the most sought-after tech club at Yale. “But I’ve always been interested in…”<<else>>“It’s actually $MC_program,” you replied, feeling a small flush of pride at the compliment. It wasn’t every day you impressed the president of the most sought-after tech club at Yale. “But I’ve always been interested in…”<</if>>
<<if $ComputerProgramming>>*[[… computer programming.|Tech 2]]<</if>><<if $Robotics>>*[[… robotics.|Tech 2]]<</if>><<if $Engineering>>*[[… engineering.|Tech 2]]<</if>><<notify>>+ Friendly<</notify>>There was a brief pause in the group’s argument, all eyes turning to you, some surprised, some mildly irritated. Michael straightened up, folding his arms across his chest and giving you a curious look. You felt a momentary flicker of doubt, realizing you’d just spoken up in the middle of a high-level technical debate. Michael leaned in, a smile tugging at his lips as he considered your words.
“It’s not the code,” you repeated, keeping your tone light. You gestured toward the display. “That part is fine. The logic is correct. But the sensors—”
You trailed off, stepping closer to the robot. It was an impressive piece of work—sleek design, carefully engineered components—but there was something off about the positioning of the sensors. You bent down, pointing to the small receptors along the body of the robot.
“These aren’t calibrated correctly,” you said, standing up again. “They’re not aligned with the feedback loop you’ve programmed, so the robot doesn’t know where to send the signals. It’s trying to execute a command, but it’s not receiving any data from the environment.”
There was another pause, the group staring at you as if waiting for a catch, some error in your explanation. But instead, Michael gave a slow nod, his gaze sharpening as he studied the sensors himself.
“That... makes sense,” he said, more to himself than to anyone else. He turned to the others, his calm exterior giving way to the flicker of excitement. “Alright, realign the sensors. Let’s test it.”
There was a sudden flurry of movement, the students rushing to adjust the robot as Michael glanced back at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“You know your stuff,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “What’s your name?”
“$MC_firstname,” you introduced yourself with a nod.
“I’ll remember that,” he said, throwing you a friendly wink. “So, are you a Computer Science major? Engineering?”
<<if $MC_program is "Computer Science">>“The former,” you replied, feeling a small flush of pride at the compliment. It wasn’t every day you impressed the president of the most sought-after tech club at Yale. “But I’ve always been interested in…”<<elseif $MC_program is "Mechanical Engineering">>“The latter,” you replied, feeling a small flush of pride at the compliment. It wasn’t every day you impressed the president of the most sought-after tech club at Yale. “But I’ve always been interested in…”<<else>>“It’s actually $MC_program,” you replied, feeling a small flush of pride at the compliment. It wasn’t every day you impressed the president of the most sought-after tech club at Yale. “But I’ve always been interested in…”<</if>>
<<if $ComputerProgramming>>*[[… computer programming.|Tech 2]]<</if>><<if $Robotics>>*[[… robotics.|Tech 2]]<</if>><<if $Engineering>>*[[… engineering.|Tech 2]]<</if>><<notify>>+ Aloof<</notify>>There was a brief pause in the group’s argument, all eyes turning to you, some surprised, some mildly irritated. Michael straightened up, folding his arms across his chest and giving you a curious look. You remained composed, refusing to let the weight of their attention throw you off.
“It’s not the code,” you stated again, more directly this time. You pointed toward the screen, your expression impassive. “That part is fine. The logic is correct. But the sensors—”
You trailed off, stepping closer to the robot. It was an impressive piece of work—sleek design, carefully engineered components—but there was something off about the positioning of the sensors. You bent down, pointing to the small receptors along the body of the robot.
“These aren’t calibrated correctly,” you said, standing up again. “They’re not aligned with the feedback loop you’ve programmed, so the robot doesn’t know where to send the signals. It’s trying to execute a command, but it’s not receiving any data from the environment.”
There was another pause, the group staring at you as if waiting for a catch, some error in your explanation. But instead, Michael gave a slow nod, his gaze sharpening as he studied the sensors himself.
“That... makes sense,” he said, more to himself than to anyone else. He turned to the others, his calm exterior giving way to the flicker of excitement. “Alright, realign the sensors. Let’s test it.”
There was a sudden flurry of movement, the students rushing to adjust the robot as Michael glanced back at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“You know your stuff,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “What’s your name?”
“$MC_firstname,” you introduced yourself with a nod.
“I’ll remember that,” he said, throwing you a friendly wink. “So, are you a Computer Science major? Engineering?”
<<if $MC_program is "Computer Science">>“The former,” you replied, feeling a small flush of pride at the compliment. It wasn’t every day you impressed the president of the most sought-after tech club at Yale. “But I’ve always been interested in…”<<elseif $MC_program is "Mechanical Engineering">>“The latter,” you replied, feeling a small flush of pride at the compliment. It wasn’t every day you impressed the president of the most sought-after tech club at Yale. “But I’ve always been interested in…”<<else>>“It’s actually $MC_program,” you replied, feeling a small flush of pride at the compliment. It wasn’t every day you impressed the president of the most sought-after tech club at Yale. “But I’ve always been interested in…”<</if>>
<<if $ComputerProgramming>>*[[… computer programming.|Tech 2]]<</if>><<if $Robotics>>*[[… robotics.|Tech 2]]<</if>><<if $Engineering>>*[[… engineering.|Tech 2]]<</if>><<notify>>+ Sarcastic<</notify>>There was a brief pause in the group’s argument, all eyes turning to you, some surprised, some mildly irritated. Michael, on the other hand, chuckled under his breath, a crooked grin forming on his face.
“It’s not the code,” you said again, voice edged with dry amusement. You tilted your head toward the screen. “That part is fine. The logic is correct. But the sensors—”
You trailed off, stepping closer to the robot. It was an impressive piece of work—sleek design, carefully engineered components—but there was something off about the positioning of the sensors. You bent down, pointing to the small receptors along the body of the robot.
“These aren’t calibrated correctly,” you said, standing up again. “They’re not aligned with the feedback loop you’ve programmed, so the robot doesn’t know where to send the signals. It’s trying to execute a command, but it’s not receiving any data from the environment.”
There was another pause, the group staring at you as if waiting for a catch, some error in your explanation. But instead, Michael gave a slow nod, his gaze sharpening as he studied the sensors himself.
“That... makes sense,” he said, more to himself than to anyone else. He turned to the others, his calm exterior giving way to the flicker of excitement. “Alright, realign the sensors. Let’s test it.”
There was a sudden flurry of movement, the students rushing to adjust the robot as Michael glanced back at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“You know your stuff,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “What’s your name?”
“$MC_firstname,” you introduced yourself with a nod.
“I’ll remember that,” he said, throwing you a friendly wink. “So, are you a Computer Science major? Engineering?”
<<if $MC_program is "Computer Science">>“The former,” you replied, feeling a small flush of pride at the compliment. It wasn’t every day you impressed the president of the most sought-after tech club at Yale. “But I’ve always been interested in…”<<elseif $MC_program is "Mechanical Engineering">>“The latter,” you replied, feeling a small flush of pride at the compliment. It wasn’t every day you impressed the president of the most sought-after tech club at Yale. “But I’ve always been interested in…”<<else>>“It’s actually $MC_program,” you replied, feeling a small flush of pride at the compliment. It wasn’t every day you impressed the president of the most sought-after tech club at Yale. “But I’ve always been interested in…”<</if>>
<<if $ComputerProgramming>>*[[… computer programming.|Tech 2]]<</if>><<if $Robotics>>*[[… robotics.|Tech 2]]<</if>><<if $Engineering>>*[[… engineering.|Tech 2]]<</if>><<notify>>+ Genuine<</notify>>There was a brief pause in the group’s argument, all eyes turning to you, some surprised, some mildly irritated. Michael straightened up, folding his arms across his chest and giving you a curious look. You felt a momentary flicker of doubt, realizing you’d just spoken up in the middle of a high-level technical debate. But Michael’s expression softened, his curiosity genuine as he gave you a nod, encouraging you to continue.
“It’s not the code,” you repeated, more sure of yourself now. You gestured toward the screen. “That part is fine. The logic is correct. But the sensors—”
You trailed off, stepping closer to the robot. It was an impressive piece of work—sleek design, carefully engineered components—but there was something off about the positioning of the sensors. You bent down, pointing to the small receptors along the body of the robot.
“These aren’t calibrated correctly,” you said, standing up again. “They’re not aligned with the feedback loop you’ve programmed, so the robot doesn’t know where to send the signals. It’s trying to execute a command, but it’s not receiving any data from the environment.”
There was another pause, the group staring at you as if waiting for a catch, some error in your explanation. But instead, Michael gave a slow nod, his gaze sharpening as he studied the sensors himself.
“That... makes sense,” he said, more to himself than to anyone else. He turned to the others, his calm exterior giving way to the flicker of excitement. “Alright, realign the sensors. Let’s test it.”
There was a sudden flurry of movement, the students rushing to adjust the robot as Michael glanced back at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“You know your stuff,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “What’s your name?”
“$MC_firstname,” you introduced yourself with a nod.
“I’ll remember that,” he said, throwing you a friendly wink. “So, are you a Computer Science major? Engineering?”
<<if $MC_program is "Computer Science">>“The former,” you replied, feeling a small flush of pride at the compliment. It wasn’t every day you impressed the president of the most sought-after tech club at Yale. “But I’ve always been interested in…”<<elseif $MC_program is "Mechanical Engineering">>“The latter,” you replied, feeling a small flush of pride at the compliment. It wasn’t every day you impressed the president of the most sought-after tech club at Yale. “But I’ve always been interested in…”<<else>>“It’s actually $MC_program,” you replied, feeling a small flush of pride at the compliment. It wasn’t every day you impressed the president of the most sought-after tech club at Yale. “But I’ve always been interested in…”<</if>>
<<if $ComputerProgramming>>*[[… computer programming.|Tech 2]]<</if>><<if $Robotics>>*[[… robotics.|Tech 2]]<</if>><<if $Engineering>>*[[… engineering.|Tech 2]]<</if>><<notify>>+ Arrogant<</notify>>There was a brief pause in the group’s argument, all eyes turning to you, some surprised, some mildly irritated. Michael straightened up, folding his arms across his chest and giving you a curious look. You felt self-assured, even though you realized that you’d just spoken up in the middle of a high-level technical debate. You could feel a small thrill at the attention—you had their interest, and now you had to own it.
“It’s not the code,” you repeated with a slight smirk. You pointed toward the screen, where the lines of code were still displayed. “That part is fine. The logic is correct. But the sensors—”
You trailed off, stepping closer to the robot. It was an impressive piece of work—sleek design, carefully engineered components—but there was something off about the positioning of the sensors. You bent down, pointing to the small receptors along the body of the robot.
“These aren’t calibrated correctly,” you said, standing up again. “They’re not aligned with the feedback loop you’ve programmed, so the robot doesn’t know where to send the signals. It’s trying to execute a command, but it’s not receiving any data from the environment.”
There was another pause, the group staring at you as if waiting for a catch, some error in your explanation. But instead, Michael gave a slow nod, his gaze sharpening as he studied the sensors himself.
“That... makes sense,” he said, more to himself than to anyone else. He turned to the others, his calm exterior giving way to the flicker of excitement. “Alright, realign the sensors. Let’s test it.”
There was a sudden flurry of movement, the students rushing to adjust the robot as Michael glanced back at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“You know your stuff,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “What’s your name?”
“$MC_firstname,” you introduced yourself with a nod.
“I’ll remember that,” he said, throwing you a friendly wink. “So, are you a Computer Science major? Engineering?”
<<if $MC_program is "Computer Science">>“The former,” you replied, feeling a small flush of pride at the compliment. It wasn’t every day you impressed the president of the most sought-after tech club at Yale. “But I’ve always been interested in…”<<elseif $MC_program is "Mechanical Engineering">>“The latter,” you replied, feeling a small flush of pride at the compliment. It wasn’t every day you impressed the president of the most sought-after tech club at Yale. “But I’ve always been interested in…”<<else>>“It’s actually $MC_program,” you replied, feeling a small flush of pride at the compliment. It wasn’t every day you impressed the president of the most sought-after tech club at Yale. “But I’ve always been interested in…”<</if>>
<<if $ComputerProgramming>>*[[… computer programming.|Tech 2]]<</if>><<if $Robotics>>*[[… robotics.|Tech 2]]<</if>><<if $Engineering>>*[[… engineering.|Tech 2]]<</if>><<notify>>+ Cautious<</notify>>There was a brief pause in the group’s argument, all eyes turning to you, some surprised, some mildly irritated. Michael straightened up, folding his arms across his chest and giving you a curious look. You felt a momentary flicker of doubt, realizing you’d just spoken up in the middle of a high-level technical debate. You cleared your throat, measuring your words as you spoke again, feeling the need to tread lightly.
“It’s not the code,” you said again, cautiously. You pointed toward the screen, where the lines of code were still displayed. “That part is fine. The logic is correct. But the sensors—”
You trailed off, stepping closer to the robot. It was an impressive piece of work—sleek design, carefully engineered components—but there was something off about the positioning of the sensors. You bent down, pointing to the small receptors along the body of the robot.
“These aren’t calibrated correctly,” you said, standing up again. “They’re not aligned with the feedback loop you’ve programmed, so the robot doesn’t know where to send the signals. It’s trying to execute a command, but it’s not receiving any data from the environment.”
There was another pause, the group staring at you as if waiting for a catch, some error in your explanation. But instead, Michael gave a slow nod, his gaze sharpening as he studied the sensors himself.
“That... makes sense,” he said, more to himself than to anyone else. He turned to the others, his calm exterior giving way to the flicker of excitement. “Alright, realign the sensors. Let’s test it.”
There was a sudden flurry of movement, the students rushing to adjust the robot as Michael glanced back at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“You know your stuff,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “What’s your name?”
“$MC_firstname,” you introduced yourself with a nod.
“I’ll remember that,” he said, throwing you a friendly wink. “So, are you a Computer Science major? Engineering?”
<<if $MC_program is "Computer Science">>“The former,” you replied, feeling a small flush of pride at the compliment. It wasn’t every day you impressed the president of the most sought-after tech club at Yale. “But I’ve always been interested in…”<<elseif $MC_program is "Mechanical Engineering">>“The latter,” you replied, feeling a small flush of pride at the compliment. It wasn’t every day you impressed the president of the most sought-after tech club at Yale. “But I’ve always been interested in…”<<else>>“It’s actually $MC_program,” you replied, feeling a small flush of pride at the compliment. It wasn’t every day you impressed the president of the most sought-after tech club at Yale. “But I’ve always been interested in…”<</if>>
<<if $ComputerProgramming>>*[[… computer programming.|Tech 2]]<</if>><<if $Robotics>>*[[… robotics.|Tech 2]]<</if>><<if $Engineering>>*[[… engineering.|Tech 2]]<</if>><<notify>>+ Humble<</notify>>There was a brief pause in the group’s argument, all eyes turning to you, some surprised, some mildly irritated. Michael straightened up, folding his arms across his chest and giving you a curious look. You felt a momentary flicker of hesitance, realizing you’d just spoken up in the middle of a high-level technical debate. You swallowed the initial wave of doubt and pressed on.
“It’s not the code,” you repeated, more certain this time. You nodded toward the screen, where the lines of code were still displayed. “That part is fine. The logic is correct. But the sensors—”
You trailed off, stepping closer to the robot. It was an impressive piece of work—sleek design, carefully engineered components—but there was something off about the positioning of the sensors. You bent down, pointing to the small receptors along the body of the robot.
“These aren’t calibrated correctly,” you said, standing up again. “They’re not aligned with the feedback loop you’ve programmed, so the robot doesn’t know where to send the signals. It’s trying to execute a command, but it’s not receiving any data from the environment.”
There was another pause, the group staring at you as if waiting for a catch, some error in your explanation. But instead, Michael gave a slow nod, his gaze sharpening as he studied the sensors himself.
“That... makes sense,” he said, more to himself than to anyone else. He turned to the others, his calm exterior giving way to the flicker of excitement. “Alright, realign the sensors. Let’s test it.”
There was a sudden flurry of movement, the students rushing to adjust the robot as Michael glanced back at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“You know your stuff,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “What’s your name?”
“$MC_firstname,” you introduced yourself with a nod.
“I’ll remember that,” he said, throwing you a friendly wink. “So, are you a Computer Science major? Engineering?”
<<if $MC_program is "Computer Science">>“The former,” you replied, feeling a small flush of pride at the compliment. It wasn’t every day you impressed the president of the most sought-after tech club at Yale. “But I’ve always been interested in…”<<elseif $MC_program is "Mechanical Engineering">>“The latter,” you replied, feeling a small flush of pride at the compliment. It wasn’t every day you impressed the president of the most sought-after tech club at Yale. “But I’ve always been interested in…”<<else>>“It’s actually $MC_program,” you replied, feeling a small flush of pride at the compliment. It wasn’t every day you impressed the president of the most sought-after tech club at Yale. “But I’ve always been interested in…”<</if>>
<<if $ComputerProgramming>>*[[… computer programming.|Tech 2]]<</if>><<if $Robotics>>*[[… robotics.|Tech 2]]<</if>><<if $Engineering>>*[[… engineering.|Tech 2]]<</if>>The students quickly made the adjustments, and within minutes, the robot whirred to life, responding to the commands on the screen with perfect precision. A cheer went up from the group, their frustration melting away as they watched the machine finally work seamlessly with their programming. Michael turned back to you, eyes bright with amusement and a kind of quiet respect.
“That was impressive,” he said. “We’ve been stuck on that for hours. How’d you spot it so fast?”
You shrugged, feeling a bit sheepish. “I’ve worked with similar setups before. Sometimes it’s the simplest things.”
Michael gave you a long look, as if considering something. Then, he nodded to himself.
“You should join us,” he said simply with no hint of hesitation in his voice. “We could use someone like you.”
You blinked, taken aback by the directness of the offer. Innovatech wasn’t just any tech club—it was the tech club, a group filled with the brightest minds on campus. You had been curious, maybe even interested, but this was something more. This was an invitation into a world you hadn’t expected to enter.
“What do you say?” Michael asked, his smile widening slightly. “Interested?”
There was a moment of silence as you considered it, the hum of the fair fading into the background. This was an opportunity—a real one—and you knew that it wasn’t something that came around often.
“I’ll think about it," you said, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.
Michael nodded, as though he knew you’d say yes eventually. “We meet every Thursday. Come by the Zoo in the Arthur K. Watson building and see what we’re working on. Trust me, you won’t regret it."
You gave him a small nod, feeling a spark of excitement as you turned away from the booth. The noise of the fair rushed back to you, but the weight of the offer lingered in the back of your mind, pulling you into a new world you hadn’t expected to enter but were nonetheless eager to explore.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.10]]*/It was already mid-afternoon by the time you had your fill of the sheer number of people swarming around the fair. The atmosphere had started to grate on you: the constant murmur of conversation, the flashes of movement from booth to booth, the smell of food that was both enticing and nauseating in equal measure. Your stomach growled, pulling your focus from the chaos around you to a nearby food stall. You decided that something warm and greasy was exactly what you needed to take the edge off.
As you made your way to the line, you noticed a stand selling burgers and fries—the kind that smelled like indulgence and heartburn all wrapped in greasy paper. The line wasn’t too long, and you relaxed a little, your hunger taking the front seat. The closer you got, the more impatient your stomach became, each whiff of food pushing your feet forward.
Just as you were about to reach the front of the line, you turned—and bumped directly into someone standing by the chess booth.
The impact was brief, but the tension that followed was immediate. You glanced up, your breath catching as you realized who it was with their chalcedony green eyes narrowed in immediate displeasure.
*[[“Cédric Lacroix…”|Ch 3.11][$C_name to "Cédric", $C_middle to "Armand", $C_Ceddy to "Ceddy", $C_gender to "male", $C_person to "man", $C_guy to "guy", $C_boy to "boy", $C_Mr to "Mr", $C_HeShe to "He", $C_heshe to "he", $C_HimHer to "Him", $C_himher to "him", $C_HisHer to "His", $C_hisher to "his", $C_HisHers to "His", $C_hishers to "his", $C_Himself to "Himself", $C_himself to "himself"]]
*[[“Céline Lacroix…”|Ch 3.11][$C_name to "Céline", $C_middle to "Armelle", $C_Ceddy to "Celly", $C_gender to "female", $C_person to "woman", $C_guy to "girl", $C_boy to "girl",$C_Mr to "Ms", $C_HeShe to "She", $C_heshe to "she", $C_HimHer to "Her", $C_himher to "her", $C_HisHer to "Her", $C_hisher to "her", $C_HisHers to "Hers", $C_hishers to "hers", $C_Himself to "Herself", $C_himself to "herself"]]<<notify>>+ Pragmatic<</notify>>Everyone was waiting for your response, and it wasn’t like you had the luxury to shy away. You took a step closer, focusing on the facts.
“Well," you began, your voice steady. “Sanctions are complicated. They might seem like a way to force a regime to comply, but the collateral damage is massive. The people who suffer the most aren’t the ones in power. And sure, they might weaken a government economically, but... do they really work? If the goal is regime change or policy shifts, sanctions don’t seem to be the most effective tool. They often just harden a regime’s resolve, and we end up worsening the humanitarian crisis."
There was a beat of silence as the group considered your words. Yasmina, her expression unreadable, watched you intently, her dark eyes never leaving your face.
“Interesting," she said at last, her voice thoughtful. “But if sanctions don’t work, what would you suggest as an alternative? Dialogue? Intervention? Or do we just allow authoritarian regimes to operate unchecked?"
You thought about it, feeling the weight of her question. It wasn’t rhetorical; she genuinely wanted an answer. And somehow, the challenge felt... exhilarating.
“Diplomacy is ideal," you said, voice rising now. “But it's not always possible. Intervention? That’s risky. You risk violating sovereignty, and it can lead to even worse outcomes—just look at what’s happened in the Middle East. Maybe... there isn’t a one-size-fits-all solution. But sanctions should be a last resort. We have to exhaust all other options before we decide to hurt the population to pressure their government."
Another pause followed your response, and this time, Yasmina’s expression shifted slightly. There was something like approval in her eyes, a faint smile playing on her lips.
“You’re right," she said, nodding. “Sanctions are a tool, but not the only tool. And often, they’re overused without fully considering the consequences."
The tension in the air seemed to dissipate, and you felt the group relax around you. Yasmina stepped forward, extending her hand to you.
“You’ve got a good head on your shoulders," she said, her tone warm now. “What’s your name?"
“$MC_firstname $MC_surname,” you answered, feeling a bit disoriented by how quickly things had turned. One moment you were an outsider, the next you were standing in the middle of the debate like you were born for this.
“Well, $MC_firstname," Yasmina said, her eyes gleaming with something close to amusement. “You should consider joining us. We’re always looking for people who can argue with both reason and empathy. Model UN isn’t just about debating for the sake of winning—it’s about understanding the world from different perspectives."
You hesitated, glancing around at the other students. They were nodding, murmuring in agreement. It was a strange feeling, this sudden invitation into a circle that felt, only minutes ago, completely closed to you.
“I’ll think about it," you said, a slight smile tugging at your lips.
Yasmina’s smile widened. “Good. We meet every Monday and Thursday in the William L. Harkness Hall. You’re welcome anytime."
With that, the debate resumed, the students diving back into their discussion with renewed energy. But even as they continued talking, you felt Yasmina’s gaze linger on you for a moment longer, as if sizing you up, considering what role you might play in everything. And for some reason, you had a feeling it wasn’t just about Model United Nations.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.10]]*/<<notify>>+ Emotional<</notify>>The question hit like a spotlight suddenly swinging your way. Your chest tightened for a moment, but you stepped forward anyway, because something about this—about being heard—mattered more than the nerves crawling up your spine.
“Sanctions... they can destroy people’s lives," you began, the words rushing out before you could hold them back. “They sound like a solution, but they’re a blunt instrument. Children go hungry. Families suffer. And for what? Most of the time, the regime doesn’t care. They only dig in deeper. It just—"
You caught your breath, feeling a surge of frustration. “It feels wrong. We have to find other ways before resorting to something that punishes the most vulnerable."
You could see a flicker of understanding in Yasmina’s eyes, and it steadied you. Maybe you weren’t just shouting into the void after all.
“Interesting," she said at last, her voice thoughtful. “But if sanctions don’t work, what would you suggest as an alternative? Dialogue? Intervention? Or do we just allow authoritarian regimes to operate unchecked?"
You thought about it, feeling the weight of her question. It wasn’t rhetorical; she genuinely wanted an answer. And somehow, the challenge felt... exhilarating.
“Diplomacy is ideal," you said, voice rising now. “But it's not always possible. Intervention? That’s risky. You risk violating sovereignty, and it can lead to even worse outcomes—just look at what’s happened in the Middle East. Maybe... there isn’t a one-size-fits-all solution. But sanctions should be a last resort. We have to exhaust all other options before we decide to hurt the population to pressure their government."
Another pause followed your response, and this time, Yasmina’s expression shifted slightly. There was something like approval in her eyes, a faint smile playing on her lips.
“You’re right," she said, nodding. “Sanctions are a tool, but not the only tool. And often, they’re overused without fully considering the consequences."
The tension in the air seemed to dissipate, and you felt the group relax around you. Yasmina stepped forward, extending her hand to you.
“You’ve got a good head on your shoulders," she said, her tone warm now. “What’s your name?"
“$MC_firstname $MC_surname,” you answered, feeling a bit disoriented by how quickly things had turned. One moment you were an outsider, the next you were standing in the middle of the debate like you were born for this.
“Well, $MC_firstname," Yasmina said, her eyes gleaming with something close to amusement. “You should consider joining us. We’re always looking for people who can argue with both reason and empathy. Model UN isn’t just about debating for the sake of winning—it’s about understanding the world from different perspectives."
You hesitated, glancing around at the other students. They were nodding, murmuring in agreement. It was a strange feeling, this sudden invitation into a circle that felt, only minutes ago, completely closed to you.
“I’ll think about it," you said, a slight smile tugging at your lips.
Yasmina’s smile widened. “Good. We meet every Monday and Thursday in the William L. Harkness Hall. You’re welcome anytime."
With that, the debate resumed, the students diving back into their discussion with renewed energy. But even as they continued talking, you felt Yasmina’s gaze linger on you for a moment longer, as if sizing you up, considering what role you might play in everything. And for some reason, you had a feeling it wasn’t just about Model United Nations.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.10]]*/<<notify>>+ Arrogant<</notify>>You were a little taken aback by the sudden spotlight, but then a slow smirk crept onto your face. This? This was easy. You stepped forward with confidence, letting the weight of your presence settle.
“Sanctions are a joke," you drawled, crossing your arms. “They’re a lazy way for politicians to look like they’re doing something when they don’t actually have a plan. Sure, they hurt the economy, but what does that accomplish? The people in power aren’t the ones starving, and they sure as hell aren’t backing down because of it. Sanctions just strengthen their control by creating a common enemy—the general public."
You shrugged, glancing around at the skeptical faces. “If the goal is real change, then sanctions are just a fancy way of saying we’ve given up on actual diplomacy."
The silence that followed was satisfying, like you’d just handed them a truth they hadn’t considered. Yasmina, her expression unreadable, watched you intently, her dark eyes never leaving your face.
“Interesting," she said at last, her voice thoughtful. “But if sanctions don’t work, what would you suggest as an alternative? Dialogue? Intervention? Or do we just allow authoritarian regimes to operate unchecked?"
You thought about it, feeling the weight of her question. It wasn’t rhetorical; she genuinely wanted an answer. And somehow, the challenge felt... exhilarating.
“Diplomacy is ideal," you said, voice rising now. “But it's not always possible. Intervention? That’s risky. You risk violating sovereignty, and it can lead to even worse outcomes—just look at what’s happened in the Middle East. Maybe... there isn’t a one-size-fits-all solution. But sanctions should be a last resort. We have to exhaust all other options before we decide to hurt the population to pressure their government."
Another pause followed your response, and this time, Yasmina’s expression shifted slightly. There was something like approval in her eyes, a faint smile playing on her lips.
“You’re right," she said, nodding. “Sanctions are a tool, but not the only tool. And often, they’re overused without fully considering the consequences."
The tension in the air seemed to dissipate, and you felt the group relax around you. Yasmina stepped forward, extending her hand to you.
“You’ve got a good head on your shoulders," she said, her tone warm now. “What’s your name?"
“$MC_firstname $MC_surname,” you answered, feeling a bit disoriented by how quickly things had turned. One moment you were an outsider, the next you were standing in the middle of the debate like you were born for this.
“Well, $MC_firstname," Yasmina said, her eyes gleaming with something close to amusement. “You should consider joining us. We’re always looking for people who can argue with both reason and empathy. Model UN isn’t just about debating for the sake of winning—it’s about understanding the world from different perspectives."
You hesitated, glancing around at the other students. They were nodding, murmuring in agreement. It was a strange feeling, this sudden invitation into a circle that felt, only minutes ago, completely closed to you.
“I’ll think about it," you said, a slight smile tugging at your lips.
Yasmina’s smile widened. “Good. We meet every Monday and Thursday in the William L. Harkness Hall. You’re welcome anytime."
With that, the debate resumed, the students diving back into their discussion with renewed energy. But even as they continued talking, you felt Yasmina’s gaze linger on you for a moment longer, as if sizing you up, considering what role you might play in everything. And for some reason, you had a feeling it wasn’t just about Model United Nations.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.10]]*/<<notify>>+ Humble<</notify>>You hesitated, then stepped closer, hoping your words wouldn’t sound as unsure as you felt.
“I’m no expert," you started, scratching the back of your neck. “But sanctions... they don’t seem to do what we hope they will. I mean, yeah, they hurt a country economically, but it’s the everyday people who suffer the most. The regime just adapts. I guess what I’m trying to say is... maybe we should look for other options first."
You glanced at Yasmina, half-expecting to see disappointment, but instead, she nodded thoughtfully. It was a small gesture, but it gave you a bit more confidence to stand by what you'd said.
“Interesting," she said at last, her voice thoughtful. “But if sanctions don’t work, what would you suggest as an alternative? Dialogue? Intervention? Or do we just allow authoritarian regimes to operate unchecked?"
You thought about it, feeling the weight of her question. It wasn’t rhetorical; she genuinely wanted an answer. And somehow, the challenge felt... exhilarating.
“Diplomacy is ideal," you said, voice rising now. “But it's not always possible. Intervention? That’s risky. You risk violating sovereignty, and it can lead to even worse outcomes—just look at what’s happened in the Middle East. Maybe... there isn’t a one-size-fits-all solution. But sanctions should be a last resort. We have to exhaust all other options before we decide to hurt the population to pressure their government."
Another pause followed your response, and this time, Yasmina’s expression shifted slightly. There was something like approval in her eyes, a faint smile playing on her lips.
“You’re right," she said, nodding. “Sanctions are a tool, but not the only tool. And often, they’re overused without fully considering the consequences."
The tension in the air seemed to dissipate, and you felt the group relax around you. Yasmina stepped forward, extending her hand to you.
“You’ve got a good head on your shoulders," she said, her tone warm now. “What’s your name?"
“$MC_firstname $MC_surname,” you answered, feeling a bit disoriented by how quickly things had turned. One moment you were an outsider, the next you were standing in the middle of the debate like you were born for this.
“Well, $MC_firstname," Yasmina said, her eyes gleaming with something close to amusement. “You should consider joining us. We’re always looking for people who can argue with both reason and empathy. Model UN isn’t just about debating for the sake of winning—it’s about understanding the world from different perspectives."
You hesitated, glancing around at the other students. They were nodding, murmuring in agreement. It was a strange feeling, this sudden invitation into a circle that felt, only minutes ago, completely closed to you.
“I’ll think about it," you said, a slight smile tugging at your lips.
Yasmina’s smile widened. “Good. We meet every Monday and Thursday in the William L. Harkness Hall. You’re welcome anytime."
With that, the debate resumed, the students diving back into their discussion with renewed energy. But even as they continued talking, you felt Yasmina’s gaze linger on you for a moment longer, as if sizing you up, considering what role you might play in everything. And for some reason, you had a feeling it wasn’t just about Model United Nations.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.10]]*/<<notify>>+ Sarcastic<</notify>>You raised an eyebrow, feeling the weight of all those eyes on you. Of course, they wanted an answer now. With a sigh, you stepped closer, trying to keep your tone light.
“Oh, sanctions?" you started, with a wry smile. “Yeah, they’re great. I mean, if your goal is to make sure the average citizen suffers while the regime doubles down and blames all their problems on external forces. Because, you know, starving people are definitely going to overthrow their government in between looking for food and water."
You shrugged, a hint of a smirk still lingering. “It’s a real winning strategy."
The silence that followed was laced with a few raised eyebrows, but you caught the flicker of amusement in Yasmina’s expression. She got it.
“Interesting," she said at last, her voice thoughtful. “But if sanctions don’t work, what would you suggest as an alternative? Dialogue? Intervention? Or do we just allow authoritarian regimes to operate unchecked?"
You thought about it, feeling the weight of her question. It wasn’t rhetorical; she genuinely wanted an answer. And somehow, the challenge felt... exhilarating.
“Diplomacy is ideal," you said, voice rising now. “But it's not always possible. Intervention? That’s risky. You risk violating sovereignty, and it can lead to even worse outcomes—just look at what’s happened in the Middle East. Maybe... there isn’t a one-size-fits-all solution. But sanctions should be a last resort. We have to exhaust all other options before we decide to hurt the population to pressure their government."
Another pause followed your response, and this time, Yasmina’s expression shifted slightly. There was something like approval in her eyes, a faint smile playing on her lips.
“You’re right," she said, nodding. “Sanctions are a tool, but not the only tool. And often, they’re overused without fully considering the consequences."
The tension in the air seemed to dissipate, and you felt the group relax around you. Yasmina stepped forward, extending her hand to you.
“You’ve got a good head on your shoulders," she said, her tone warm now. “What’s your name?"
“$MC_firstname $MC_surname,” you answered, feeling a bit disoriented by how quickly things had turned. One moment you were an outsider, the next you were standing in the middle of the debate like you were born for this.
“Well, $MC_firstname," Yasmina said, her eyes gleaming with something close to amusement. “You should consider joining us. We’re always looking for people who can argue with both reason and empathy. Model UN isn’t just about debating for the sake of winning—it’s about understanding the world from different perspectives."
You hesitated, glancing around at the other students. They were nodding, murmuring in agreement. It was a strange feeling, this sudden invitation into a circle that felt, only minutes ago, completely closed to you.
“I’ll think about it," you said, a slight smile tugging at your lips.
Yasmina’s smile widened. “Good. We meet every Monday and Thursday in the William L. Harkness Hall. You’re welcome anytime."
With that, the debate resumed, the students diving back into their discussion with renewed energy. But even as they continued talking, you felt Yasmina’s gaze linger on you for a moment longer, as if sizing you up, considering what role you might play in everything. And for some reason, you had a feeling it wasn’t just about Model United Nations.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.10]]*/<<notify>>+ Genuine<</notify>>You froze for a second, caught off guard by the directness of the question. But something about the way Yasmina watched you made it feel like your answer actually mattered. So you stepped closer, speaking carefully.
“Sanctions might seem like a way to pressure a regime, but... they don’t really work the way we think they do," you said, keeping your tone steady. “The people who suffer most aren’t the ones in power. They’re the ones trying to survive. Sanctions might weaken a country economically, but they rarely change the regime itself. It just hardens their resolve. And in the meantime, we create a bigger humanitarian crisis."
You paused, watching her face closely. “I’m not completely sure about what the perfect solution could be, but I do think we need to rethink how we approach these situations."
Yasmina listened intently, nodding once as if to say she understood. It felt like, for once, your words weren’t just floating in the air—they were being heard.
“Interesting," she said at last, her voice thoughtful. “But if sanctions don’t work, what would you suggest as an alternative? Dialogue? Intervention? Or do we just allow authoritarian regimes to operate unchecked?"
You thought about it, feeling the weight of her question. It wasn’t rhetorical; she genuinely wanted an answer. And somehow, the challenge felt... exhilarating.
“Diplomacy is ideal," you said, voice rising now. “But it's not always possible. Intervention? That’s risky. You risk violating sovereignty, and it can lead to even worse outcomes—just look at what’s happened in the Middle East. Maybe... there isn’t a one-size-fits-all solution. But sanctions should be a last resort. We have to exhaust all other options before we decide to hurt the population to pressure their government."
Another pause followed your response, and this time, Yasmina’s expression shifted slightly. There was something like approval in her eyes, a faint smile playing on her lips.
“You’re right," she said, nodding. “Sanctions are a tool, but not the only tool. And often, they’re overused without fully considering the consequences."
The tension in the air seemed to dissipate, and you felt the group relax around you. Yasmina stepped forward, extending her hand to you.
“You’ve got a good head on your shoulders," she said, her tone warm now. “What’s your name?"
“$MC_firstname $MC_surname,” you answered, feeling a bit disoriented by how quickly things had turned. One moment you were an outsider, the next you were standing in the middle of the debate like you were born for this.
“Well, $MC_firstname," Yasmina said, her eyes gleaming with something close to amusement. “You should consider joining us. We’re always looking for people who can argue with both reason and empathy. Model UN isn’t just about debating for the sake of winning—it’s about understanding the world from different perspectives."
You hesitated, glancing around at the other students. They were nodding, murmuring in agreement. It was a strange feeling, this sudden invitation into a circle that felt, only minutes ago, completely closed to you.
“I’ll think about it," you said, a slight smile tugging at your lips.
Yasmina’s smile widened. “Good. We meet every Monday and Thursday in the William L. Harkness Hall. You’re welcome anytime."
With that, the debate resumed, the students diving back into their discussion with renewed energy. But even as they continued talking, you felt Yasmina’s gaze linger on you for a moment longer, as if sizing you up, considering what role you might play in everything. And for some reason, you had a feeling it wasn’t just about Model United Nations.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.10">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.10]]*/<<if $C_gender is "male">>He was impossible to miss. Tall and imposing, with a frame that seemed to command attention even when he was standing still. His hair, a deep shade of brown so dark it was almost black, was neatly styled, perfectly in place, the kind of meticulous grooming that made him look like he’d stepped out of an advertisement for some expensive Swiss cologne. But despite the effortlessness of his appearance, there was nothing soft about him. His fair skin, as flawless as polished marble, only served to highlight the tension in his features, every muscle in his face pulled tight, every line edged with disdain.
The preppy aesthetic he’d always worn like a second skin was still there: a white polo shirt underneath a blue Yale sweater and khaki trousers, the kind of casual-cool that only the extremely wealthy could pull off without effort. The pale green of his eyes—sharp, calculating—locked onto yours. His scowl deepened instantly, as if seeing you again, of all people, made something inside him snap. You remembered that look all too well. It was the same one he wore every time things didn’t go exactly his way, every time he felt threatened, or worse—outdone.<<else>>Céline’s frame was as statuesque as ever, tall and graceful in a way that somehow made everyone around her seem small. Her dark brown hair was left stylistically free and falling in waves to her back, the kind of meticulous grooming that made her look like she’d stepped out of an advertisement for some expensive Swiss perfume. But despite the effortlessness of her appearance, there was nothing soft about her. Her fair skin, as flawless as polished marble, only served to highlight the tension in her features, every muscle in her face pulled tight, every line edged with disdain.
The preppy aesthetic she’d always worn like a second skin was still there: an oversized Yale sweater and a white skirt. The pale green of her eyes—angry, calculating—locked onto yours. Her scowl deepened instantly, as if seeing you again, of all people, made something inside her snap. You remembered that look all too well. It was the same one she wore every time things didn’t go exactly her way, every time she felt threatened, or worse—outdone.<</if>>
There was a beat of silence, the air around you and $C_name charged with disbelief. As if just glaring at you would make you obliterate from its intensity. Then $C_heshe scoffed, taking a step back, $C_hisher lips curling into a bitter smile.
“Are you serious? $MC_firstname $MC_surname? <em>You’re</em> here?" $C_HisHer voice was sharp, cutting through the ambient noise of the fair. “What, did you come here just to torment me for four more years?"
The accusation hung in the air, laced with disbelief and something darker—resentment, maybe. You could see the anger simmering beneath $C_hisher polished exterior, the same anger you remembered from your school years together, but this time mixed with shock.
*[[“What? No!” you said, genuinely surprised. “I didn’t even know you were going to Yale. I’m just here for my own reasons, same as you.”|Ch 3.12.1][$Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[You raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Yeah, because tormenting you is obviously my life’s goal.”|Ch 3.12.2][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[You took a step back, raising your hands slightly in a placating gesture. “Whoa, calm down! I’m just here to get an education.”|Ch 3.12.3][$Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100)]]
*<<link 'You kept your expression neutral, meeting $C_hisher gaze without flinching. “Whatever grudge you held in school is in the past. I’m just here to focus on my future.”' "Ch 3.12.4">><<set $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>>/*[[Ch 3.12.4]]*/<<notify>>+ Genuine, + Friendly<</notify>>For a second, something in $C_hisher expression shifted. $C_HisHer frown deepened, but $C_hisher eyes flickered with uncertainty, as if $C_heshe hadn’t expected you to come off so... sincere. You could almost hear the cogs turning in $C_hisher mind, trying to figure out if you were lying or if fate really was that cruel.
$C_HisHer arms crossed over $C_hisher chest defensively. “I don’t buy it.”
You sighed, shaking your head. “Honestly, I didn’t even know you applied here. And as much as you might want to believe I followed you, Yale’s been my dream school since forever. You know that.”
$C_name jaw tightened at that, the mention of your shared history pricking at a wound $C_heshe clearly hadn’t gotten over.
“Still doesn’t change the fact that we’re both here now though," $C_heshe grumbled. “Why is it that you always end up being where I am?”
You felt the words bubbling up before you could stop yourself. “I mean, I got into Harvard too. But I chose Yale. I was always going to.”
The way $C_hisher face twisted at that was almost painful. “You—what?”
“I got into Harvard,” you repeated, trying to keep your voice neutral. “But I chose Yale in the end.”
$C_HisHer face darkened. $C_HeShe didn’t need to say it, but you knew exactly what was going through $C_hisher mind: <em>Why did you have to be the one who got into Harvard when it’s clear you didn’t give a shit about it in the first place?</em>
Before either of you could bicker even more, it seemed like the crowd around you was getting even thicker. Suddenly…
*<<link '… you get pushed against $C_himher.' "Ch 3.13.1">><</link>>
*<<link '… $C_heshe gets pushed against you.' "Ch 3.13.2">><</link>>
/*[[Ch 3.13.1]] [[Ch 3.13.2]]*/<<notify>>+ Sarcastic, + Arrogant<</notify>>$C_name’s scowl deepened, $C_hisher green eyes narrowing with a mixture of frustration and disbelief. “You always had a way of getting in my way, didn’t you?" $C_HisHer voice was low, almost a growl, but you could hear the edge of insecurity underneath it.
You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, come on, Lacroix. You really think I picked Yale just to mess with you?" You gestured around to the bustling fair. “Of all the people in the world, you think I care enough about you to plan my entire future around making your life difficult?"
“It wouldn’t be the first time," $C_name shot back, $C_hisher tone sharp and defensive.
“Oh, I’m pretty sure you’d love for that to be true," you said, your smirk deepening. You took a step closer, lowering your voice slightly as you met $C_hisher glare head-on. “Let’s not forget—you were supposed to go to Harvard. So, if anyone’s following anyone…" You trailed off, raising an eyebrow as if daring $C_himher to deny it.
$C_HisHer face flushed red, $C_hisher pale green eyes blazing with fury. “I didn’t follow you!" $C_heshe snapped, $C_hisher voice harsh and defensive. But the way $C_heshe clenched $C_hisher fists at $C_hisher sides told you that your words had struck a nerve.
“Sure you didn’t." You tilted your head, letting your smirk soften into something more playful, though the challenge was still there. “I got into Harvard too, by the way. But Yale’s always been my first choice." You shrugged, as if it were no big deal, though the smugness in your voice was unmistakable. “Guess you’ll just have to settle for being second-place here as well."
That seemed to do it. $C_HisHer composure cracked, $C_hisher fists clenching tighter as $C_heshe glared at you, $C_hisher chest heaving slightly with frustration.
“You’re a spoiled brat who gets off on your own superiority," $C_heshe spat out with a snarl.
“Thank you," you quipped, giving $C_himher a wink which made $C_himher fume even more. “I try.”
Before either of you could bicker even more, it seemed like the crowd around you was getting even thicker. Suddenly…
*<<link '… you get pushed against $C_himher.' "Ch 3.13.1">><</link>>
*<<link '… $C_heshe gets pushed against you.' "Ch 3.13.2">><</link>>
/*[[Ch 3.13.1]] [[Ch 3.13.2]]*/<<notify>>+ Laidback, + Humble<</notify>>$C_name’s eyes narrowed, $C_hisher lips curling into a sneer. “Right. Just here for an education." $C_HisHer tone was biting, but you could tell $C_heshe wasn’t quite as sure of $C_himself as $C_heshe wanted to be.
You nodded, lowering your hands.
“Yale’s been my dream school for as long as I can remember," you said sincerely, trying to diffuse the tension. “I didn’t even know you’d be here, honestly. I’m not trying to compete with you or anything."
For a moment, $C_heshe looked at you like $C_heshe didn’t believe a word you were saying. Then, slowly, $C_hisher shoulders relaxed just the slightest bit, though the scowl never fully left $C_hisher face.
“You always had a way of making everything seem unintentional," $C_heshe muttered, $C_hisher voice low.
“I’m serious, Lacroix," you replied, your tone still calm and gentle. “This isn’t about you. I got into Harvard too, but I’ve always wanted Yale."
That last bit seemed to catch $C_himher off guard. $C_HeShe blinked at you, $C_hisher expression unreadable for a moment before $C_hisher jaw tightened again.
“Of course you did," $C_heshe muttered. “Perfect little $MC_starboy getting anything and everything $heshe wants.”
Before either of you could bicker even more, it seemed like the crowd around you was getting even thicker. Suddenly…
*<<link '… you get pushed against $C_himher.' "Ch 3.13.1">><</link>>
*<<link '… $C_heshe gets pushed against you.' "Ch 3.13.2">><</link>>
/*[[Ch 3.13.1]] [[Ch 3.13.2]]*/<<notify>>+ Aloof, + Uptight<</notify>>$C_name scoffed, $C_hisher eyes narrowing. “Focus on your future? Yeah right."
$C_HeShe folded $C_hisher arms across $C_hisher chest, the bitterness in $C_hisher tone unmistakable. “You’ve always had this holier-than-thou attitude, like you were above it all.”
You gave a small shrug, nonchalant. “You can think of it however you want, Lacroix. I’m just over this petty high school drama that you still insist on carrying.”
That seemed to sting more than you’d anticipated. $C_name’s lips pressed into a thin line, and $C_hisher eyes flashed dangerously. $C_HeShe stepped closer, lowering $C_hisher voice, but the venom was still very much present. “Funny, I always thought you’d end up at some think tank like Harvard where no one would challenge you.”
You held $C_hisher gaze, unblinking. “I got into Harvard too, Lacroix, but I chose Yale like I was always going to.”
$C_name visibly stiffened at your words, $C_hisher jaw tightening. “Harvard.” $C_HisHer tone was flat, bitter. “Of course you did.”
There was a beat of silence between you, the tension thick. $C_HeShe was glaring at you like you had personally wronged $C_himher, like your very presence was a personal affront to everything $C_heshe stood for. And maybe, in some twisted way, it was. $C_name had always been competitive, always striving to be the best—and $C_heshe hated when anyone, especially you, got in $C_hisher way.
“You followed me here, didn’t you?” you asked, your tone still level. “Harvard was your dream. Not Yale. So what are you doing here?”
$C_name bristled at the accusation, $C_hisher pale green eyes narrowing in frustration. “Followed you? Don’t flatter yourself." $C_HisHer voice was icy, but you could hear the defensiveness creeping in. “I’m here because I belong here.”
You raised an eyebrow, still calm despite $C_hisher growing anger. “It seems like you’re insisting on holding onto this... grudge. And I simply don’t have time for it anymore.”
There was another silence, this one heavier than the last. $C_name looked at you like $C_heshe was searching for something—weakness, regret, maybe even guilt—but you gave $C_himher nothing. $C_HisHer scowl faltered for a brief second, as if the weight of your indifference finally settled on $C_himher.
“You always did like pretending you were above everything,” $C_heshe muttered, shaking $C_hisher head as if to clear away the frustration. “But don’t think for a second that just because we’re both here, things are going to be different.”
You inclined your head slightly. “I don’t expect them to be. I’m just here to focus on myself.”
Before either of you could bicker even more, it seemed like the crowd around you was getting even thicker. Suddenly…
*<<link '… you get pushed against $C_himher.' "Ch 3.13.1">><</link>>
*<<link '… $C_heshe gets pushed against you.' "Ch 3.13.2">><</link>>
/*[[Ch 3.13.1]] [[Ch 3.13.2]]*/You collided with $C_name, your hands instinctively grabbing onto $C_himher to steady yourself. $C_HisHer body tensed under your touch, and for a brief, awkward moment, the two of you were too close — far too close. You could feel $C_hisher breath catch, and $C_hisher sharp green eyes widened in surprise.
“What the hell?" $C_name snapped, turning sharply to face the person who had shoved you. $C_HisHer voice was scathing, dripping with anger. “Watch where you're going, idiot!”
The person in question—a frazzled student holding a plate of food—muttered an apology, too overwhelmed by the crowd to say much more before they disappeared into the mass of people.
$C_name let out a frustrated breath, brushing invisible dirt from $C_hisher clothes with exaggerated irritation.
“Unbelievable," $C_heshe muttered. $C_HisHer eyes flicked to you again, as if $C_heshe were trying to regain some semblance of control after that momentary loss of composure.
*[[Fuck, you could feel your cheeks heating up. You were really hoping whatever crush you’d been harboring would be over by the time school was done. [♥]|Ch 3.14.1][$Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100), $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100), $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious + 3, 0, 100), $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive - 3, 0, 100), $Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist + 3, 0, 100), $Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist - 3, 0, 100), $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional + 3, 0, 100), $Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic - 3, 0, 100), $C_romance to $C_romance+1, $C_precrush to true]]
*<<link 'A slow smirk crept onto your face. Well, if it’s torment $C_heshe’s expecting, $C_heshe’s going to get it. [♥]' "Ch 3.14.2">><<set $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100); $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100); $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100); $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100); $Extrovert to Math.clamp($Extrovert + 3, 0, 100); $Introvert to Math.clamp($Introvert - 3, 0, 100); $C_romance to $C_romance+1; $C_precrush to true>><</link>>/*[[Ch 3.14.2]]*/
*[[Your heart went into overdrive and you had to take deep breaths to steady yourself. It didn’t get any less confusing out of high school. [♥]|Ch 3.14.3][$Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic + 3, 0, 100), $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional - 3, 0, 100), $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious + 3, 0, 100), $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive - 3, 0, 100), $C_romance to $C_romance+1, $C_oblivious to $C_oblivious+1]]
*[[You take a step back swiftly, re-establishing the distance between you.|Ch 3.14.4]]In an instant, $C_name was pushed toward you, $C_hisher chest pressing against yours as $C_hisher arm reached out to brace $C_himself. The sudden proximity was jarring, especially with $C_hisher face inches from yours. $C_HisHer breath ghosted against your cheek, and for a second, the anger and bitterness in $C_himher seemed to dissolve.
“What the hell?" $C_name suddenly snapped, turning sharply to face the person who had shoved $C_himher. $C_HisHer voice was scathing, dripping with anger. “Watch where you're going, idiot!”
The person in question—a frazzled student holding a plate of food—muttered an apology, too overwhelmed by the crowd to say much more before they disappeared into the mass of people.
“Unbelievable," $C_heshe muttered. $C_HisHer eyes flicked to you again, as if $C_heshe was trying to regain some semblance of control after that momentary loss of composure.
*[[Fuck, you could feel your cheeks heating up. You were really hoping whatever crush you’d been harboring would be over by the time school was done. [♥]|Ch 3.14.1][$Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100), $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100), $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious + 3, 0, 100), $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive - 3, 0, 100), $Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist + 3, 0, 100), $Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist - 3, 0, 100), $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional + 3, 0, 100), $Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic - 3, 0, 100), $C_romance to $C_romance+1, $C_precrush to true]]
*<<link 'A slow smirk crept onto your face. Well, if it’s torment $C_heshe’s expecting, $C_heshe’s going to get it. [♥]' "Ch 3.14.2">><<set $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100); $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100); $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100); $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100); $Extrovert to Math.clamp($Extrovert + 3, 0, 100); $Introvert to Math.clamp($Introvert - 3, 0, 100); $C_romance to $C_romance+1; $C_precrush to true>><</link>>/*[[Ch 3.14.2]]*/
*[[Your heart went into overdrive and you had to take deep breaths to steady yourself. It didn’t get any less confusing out of high school. [♥]|Ch 3.14.3][$Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic + 3, 0, 100), $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional - 3, 0, 100), $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious + 3, 0, 100), $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive - 3, 0, 100), $C_romance to $C_romance+1, $C_oblivious to $C_oblivious+1]]
*[[You take a step back swiftly, re-establishing the distance between you.|Ch 3.14.4]]<<notify 5s>>+ Shy, + Cautious
+ Optimist, + Emotional<</notify>>Fuck. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, that familiar, uncomfortable burn that you were all too aware of. $C_name’s piercing gaze didn’t help—it only made it worse. You tried to look anywhere but directly at $C_himher, though it was nearly impossible with $C_himher standing so close.
Why now? you thought miserably. You had been hoping that whatever stupid crush you’d been harboring would have been long gone by the time high school was over. But here you were, at university, of all places, still feeling the same confusing rush of emotions whenever he was near. It was frustrating, and deeply embarrassing.
You swallowed, trying to steady yourself, but your pulse was already racing. $C_HisHer presence had a way of unnerving you, of making you feel awkward and small, as if you were still that insecure teenager trying to navigate the mess of adolescence around $C_himher. It wasn’t like you wanted to feel this way—it just happened, against your will.
$C_name’s eyes flicked over you, and $C_hisher scowl deepened, as if $C_heshe sensed something was off but couldn’t quite place it. $C_HeShe let out another frustrated sigh, running a hand through $C_hisher dark hair, clearly irritated.
“Well?” $C_heshe snapped, $C_hisher voice cutting through the air. “Are you just going to stand there, or are you planning to say something?”
“I—I’m not—” you stammered, feeling your face heat up even more.
$C_HeShe raised an eyebrow, confused as ever. “Speechless? Now that’s a first.”
You bit your lip, wishing more than anything that you could just disappear into the crowd, but instead, you stood there, awkward and tongue-tied, unsure of what to say or how to make this situation any less mortifying.
“Am I interrupting something?” The voice was raspy with a clear Texan drawl. $C_name let out an exasperated sigh as you turned around to see who it was.
*[[A guy stood in front of you with two milkshakes in his hands.|Ch 3.15][$D_name to "Dumitru", $D_middle to "Constantin", $D_gender to "male", $D_person to "man", $D_guy to "guy", $D_guys to "guys", $D_boyish to "boyish", $D_Mr to "Mr", $D_HeShe to "He", $D_heshe to "he", $D_HimHer to "Him", $D_himher to "him", $D_HisHer to "His", $D_hisher to "his", $D_HisHers to "His", $D_hishers to "his", $D_Himself to "Himself", $D_himself to "himself"]]
*[[A girl stood in front of you with two milkshakes in her hands.|Ch 3.15][$D_name to "Dumitra", $D_middle to "Constantina", $D_gender to "female", $D_person to "woman", $D_guy to "girl", $D_guys to "girls", $D_boyish to "girlish", $D_Mr to "Ms", $D_HeShe to "She", $D_heshe to "she", $D_HimHer to "Her", $D_himher to "her", $D_HisHer to "Her", $D_hisher to "her", $D_HisHers to "Hers", $D_hishers to "hers", $D_Himself to "Herself", $D_himself to "herself"]]<<notify 5s>>+ Bold, + Impulsive
+ Extrovert<</notify>>You couldn’t help the glint of mischief in your eyes as you tilted your head, letting the tension between you linger just a little longer than necessary. If $C_name Lacroix was going to throw barbs at you, you’d meet $C_himher with a sharp edge of your own. After all, this had been your dynamic for years now, hadn’t it? Always pushing, always testing the boundaries. It was a game, even if neither of you admitted it.
“Well,” you began, your voice teasing, “if you’re going to make it that easy for me, Lacroix, who am I to say no?”
$C_HisHer eyes narrowed slightly, but there was a flicker of something else there, something that resembled embarrassment.
“What the hell are you talking about?” $C_heshe muttered, clearly annoyed but no longer entirely in control of the conversation.
You shrugged nonchalantly, stepping just a little closer. “You keep acting like I’m here just to make your life miserable. It’s flattering, honestly. You’re making it sound like I’m obsessed with you or something. What if it’s true though?”
$C_name stiffened, $C_hisher eyes darkening as your words sunk in. $C_HisHer ears were turning pink, clearly not expecting where this was going, but you weren’t about to let $C_himher off the hook.
“But if it’s torment you’re expecting,” you added, your smirk widening, “then maybe I should give you something to really worry about.”
The look on $C_hisher face was priceless—part disbelief, part irritation, and a hint of… shyness? Whatever it was, $C_heshe wasn’t quite ready to show it. You could tell you were getting under $C_hisher skin though, and it was a small victory.
“God, you’re insufferable,” $C_heshe muttered, but $C_hisher voice lacked its usual sharpness. It almost sounded… shaken.
You leaned in, just slightly, your smile never fading. “You know it, Lacroix,” you said, your tone low and conspiratorial, “and you make it way too easy.”
“Am I interrupting something?” The voice was raspy with a clear Texan drawl. $C_name let out an exasperated sigh as you turned around to see who it was.
*[[A guy stood in front of you with two milkshakes in his hands.|Ch 3.15][$D_name to "Dumitru", $D_middle to "Constantin", $D_gender to "male", $D_person to "man", $D_guy to "guy", $D_guys to "guys", $D_boyish to "boyish", $D_Mr to "Mr", $D_HeShe to "He", $D_heshe to "he", $D_HimHer to "Him", $D_himher to "him", $D_HisHer to "His", $D_hisher to "his", $D_HisHers to "His", $D_hishers to "his", $D_Himself to "Himself", $D_himself to "himself"]]
*[[A girl stood in front of you with two milkshakes in her hands.|Ch 3.15][$D_name to "Dumitra", $D_middle to "Constantina", $D_gender to "female", $D_person to "woman", $D_guy to "girl", $D_guys to "girls", $D_boyish to "girlish", $D_Mr to "Ms", $D_HeShe to "She", $D_heshe to "she", $D_HimHer to "Her", $D_himher to "her", $D_HisHer to "Her", $D_hisher to "her", $D_HisHers to "Hers", $D_hishers to "hers", $D_Himself to "Herself", $D_himself to "herself"]]<<notify 5s>>+ Pragmatic, + Cautious<</notify>>Your heart went into overdrive, thumping so loudly you were sure $C_name could hear it. But the confusion wasn’t new; it hadn’t really gotten any less disorienting since high school. You were used to it by now—the rapid fluctuations between tension and detachment, the way $C_name could get under your skin one moment and leave you second-guessing everything the next.
You blinked, trying to get a handle on the sudden rush of emotions, but the way $C_heshe was looking at you, still irritated and flustered, made it impossible to think straight.
“Uh,” you managed, your voice sounding awkward even to your own ears. “Yeah, okay. So… about that whole tormenting thing? I’m really not—”
$C_name’s eyes narrowed, and you could almost see the wheels turning in $C_hisher head as if $C_heshe was trying to read between the lines of your words, searching for some hidden meaning.
You took a slow, deep breath, willing yourself to sound more coherent. “What I mean is, I’m not here to make your life miserable. I’m just… here.” You paused. “For school. Same as you.”
$C_HeShe didn’t respond immediately, $C_hisher gaze lingering on you for a beat too long, making the silence stretch uncomfortably.
“Right,” $C_heshe finally muttered, though there was something off about the way $C_heshe said it, like $C_heshe wasn’t convinced.
“Am I interrupting something?” The voice was raspy with a clear Texan drawl. $C_name let out an exasperated sigh as you turned around to see who it was.
*[[A guy stood in front of you with two milkshakes in his hands.|Ch 3.15][$D_name to "Dumitru", $D_middle to "Constantin", $D_gender to "male", $D_person to "man", $D_guy to "guy", $D_guys to "guys", $D_boyish to "boyish", $D_Mr to "Mr", $D_HeShe to "He", $D_heshe to "he", $D_HimHer to "Him", $D_himher to "him", $D_HisHer to "His", $D_hisher to "his", $D_HisHers to "His", $D_hishers to "his", $D_Himself to "Himself", $D_himself to "himself"]]
*[[A girl stood in front of you with two milkshakes in her hands.|Ch 3.15][$D_name to "Dumitra", $D_middle to "Constantina", $D_gender to "female", $D_person to "woman", $D_guy to "girl", $D_guys to "girls", $D_boyish to "girlish", $D_Mr to "Ms", $D_HeShe to "She", $D_heshe to "she", $D_HimHer to "Her", $D_himher to "her", $D_HisHer to "Her", $D_hisher to "her", $D_HisHers to "Hers", $D_hishers to "hers", $D_Himself to "Herself", $D_himself to "herself"]]Whatever momentary lapse had just occurred—the sudden press of bodies, the fleeting contact—was over now, and you were determined to keep it that way.
“I think we should probably move away from here. This is getting a bit... chaotic,” you said, your voice clipped.
“Yeah, well, I don’t exactly have the ability to control crowds,” $C_heshe shot back, $C_hisher irritation tinged with embarrassment.
You raised an eyebrow, meeting $C_hisher gaze squarely. “You’re acting like it was some grand conspiracy. We’re just two people caught up in the mess. That’s what usually happens in fairs, you know?”
$C_HisHer mouth pressed into a displeased sneer. “Right, obvious much? You really have an annoying knack for showing up and ruining my day.”
You sighed tiredly. “Look, Lacroix, it’s been a long day. Can we just forget about this and move on? Go our separate ways?”
“Am I interrupting something?” The voice was raspy with a clear Texan drawl. $C_name let out an exasperated sigh as you turned around to see who it was.
*[[A guy stood in front of you with two milkshakes in his hands.|Ch 3.15][$D_name to "Dumitru", $D_middle to "Constantin", $D_gender to "male", $D_person to "man", $D_guy to "guy", $D_guys to "guys", $D_boyish to "boyish", $D_Mr to "Mr", $D_HeShe to "He", $D_heshe to "he", $D_HimHer to "Him", $D_himher to "him", $D_HisHer to "His", $D_hisher to "his", $D_HisHers to "His", $D_hishers to "his", $D_Himself to "Himself", $D_himself to "himself"]]
*[[A girl stood in front of you with two milkshakes in her hands.|Ch 3.15][$D_name to "Dumitra", $D_middle to "Constantina", $D_gender to "female", $D_person to "woman", $D_guy to "girl", $D_guys to "girls", $D_boyish to "girlish", $D_Mr to "Ms", $D_HeShe to "She", $D_heshe to "she", $D_HimHer to "Her", $D_himher to "her", $D_HisHer to "Her", $D_hisher to "her", $D_HisHers to "Hers", $D_hishers to "hers", $D_Himself to "Herself", $D_himself to "herself"]]<<if $D_gender is "male">>He stood casually, his chestnut brown hair brushing just below his chin in relaxed waves. Gunmetal gray eyes, laid-back and twinkling, regarded you with mild amusement as they flicked between you and $C_name. Pale skin peeked out from beneath his black leather jacket and white t-shirt, the materials catching the fair’s late afternoon light in a way that made him look both effortless and deliberate, like he hadn’t planned to look this cool but somehow always did.
He had that sort of languid grace, the kind that made him seem like he was perpetually floating through life without a care, though the slight droop of his posture hinted at something more—weariness, perhaps? There was a natural playfulness to the way he held himself, an unconscious fluidity in his movements that contrasted sharply with the tension-filled bubble you and $C_name had been trapped in moments before.<<else>>She stood casually, her chestnut brown hair was styled in loose, carefree waves that brushed just past her shoulders, though a messy half-bun pulled a few strands back from her face. Gunmetal gray eyes framed with long lashes, laid-back and twinkling, regarded you with mild amusement as they flicked between you and $C_name. Pale skin peeked out from beneath her black cropped leather jacket and white t-shirt, the materials catching the fair’s late afternoon light in a way that made her look both effortless and deliberate, like she hadn’t planned to look this cool but somehow always did.
She had that sort of languid grace, the kind that made her seem like she was perpetually floating through life without a care, though the slight droop of her posture hinted at something more—weariness, perhaps? There was a natural playfulness to the way she held herself, an unconscious fluidity in her movements that contrasted sharply with the tension-filled bubble you and $C_name had been trapped in moments before.<</if>>
“$D_name…” $C_name muttered, $C_hisher jaw tightening. “Couldn't you have shown up a little later?"
The $D_guy, who you now knew was called $D_name grinned, lifting one of the milkshakes as if to toast the moment.
“And miss this?” $D_heshe teased, $C_hisher voice playful but low enough that you had to lean in just to catch it. “No way, $C_Ceddy bear.”
‘$C_Ceddy bear’ immediately flushed in mortification. “Shut up! I told you not to call me that in front of other people!”
$D_name laughed, ignoring $C_hisher complaints away like they were nothing. “But how else could I snatch the chance to embarrass you?”
$D_HisHer eyes landed on you, a slow, deliberate look that made it clear $D_heshe wasn’t in any rush. Was $D_heshe seriously checking you out right now? “$C_name, dear, are you going to introduce me to your incredibly $MC_handsome friend, or are you keeping $himher all to yourself?”
<<if $C_romance gt 0>>$C_name’s face started resembling a ripe tomato, surprised and flustered. “Don’t be ridiculous! $HeShe'<<re>> not—"
“Relax, $C_Ceddy bear," $D_name interrupted, $D_hisher smile widening as $D_heshe handed one of the milkshakes to the red-faced $C_guy . “I’m just admiring your taste, that’s all.” $D_HeShe turned $D_hisher attention back to you, $D_hisher eyes gleaming with a mix of curiosity and amusement. “$D_name Diaconu—though most just call me Rook. I don’t believe we’ve ever met, I’d have remembered someone who looks as stunning as you."
You blinked at $D_hisher words, unsure if $D_heshe was serious or just trying to provoke a reaction from $C_name, who seemed seconds away from combusting out of a sudden surge of emotion which didn’t exactly seemed to be anger. “Back off, $D_name. You’re not getting into $hisher pants.”
The gray-eyed $D_guy pouted. “Wow, I’m not trying to do anything of the sort, you know. Have some faith.” Though $D_heshe turns to you with a playful wink. “Unless $heshe want<<s>> me to, of course.”<<else>>$C_name, predictably, bristled. “Don’t be ridiculous. $HeShe <<are>> not—"
“Relax, $C_Ceddy bear," $D_name cut in, waving the fuming $C_guy off with one of the milkshakes before $C_heshe could finish. “I’m just teasing you." $D_HeShe shot you a quick wink, then leaned toward $C_name conspiratorially, though $D_hisher voice was loud enough for you to hear. “Though if you're going to monopolize all the good-looking $MC_guys, at least let me have a chance to know them too."
$C_name's scowl deepened, face turning an angry shade of red, though $C_heshe tried to cover it by rolling $C_hisher eyes. “$D_name, you're not helping."
“Wasn't trying to." The gray-eyed $D_guy laughed, stepping forward and handing one of the milkshakes to $C_name, who accepted it begrudgingly. $D_HeShe turned $D_hisher full attention to you then, $D_hisher grin softening into something a little more genuinely intrigued. “I’m $D_name Diaconu, by the way—though most just call me Rook. I don’t believe we’ve ever met, I’d have remembered someone who looks as stunning as you.”
You blinked at $D_hisher words, unsure if $D_heshe was serious or just trying to provoke a reaction from $C_name, who seemed seconds away from combusting out of sheer anger while also being speechless due to $D_hisher audacity.<</if>>
*[[You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head in disbelief at the situation.|Ch 3.16.1][$Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100), $D_friendship to $D_friendship+5]]
*<<link 'You kept your expression neutral, unwilling to be drawn into whatever game $D_heshe was playing.' "Ch 3.16.2">><<set $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100), $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious + 3, 0, 100), $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive - 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100), $D_friendship to $D_friendship+4>><</link>>/*[[Ch 3.16.2]]*/
*[[You grinned, unable to resist playing along.|Ch 3.16.3][$Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100), $D_friendship to $D_friendship+5]]
*[[You chuckled lightly, choosing to roll with the situation.|Ch 3.16.4][$Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $D_friendship to $D_friendship+5]]
*<<link 'You tilted your head slightly, a sultry smile forming on your lips as you met $D_hisher gaze. [♥]' "Ch 3.16.5">><<set $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100); $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100); $Extrovert to Math.clamp($Extrovert + 3, 0, 100); $Introvert to Math.clamp($Introvert - 3, 0, 100); $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100); $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100); $D_romance to $D_romance+1>><</link>>/*[[Ch 3.16.5]]*/
*[[Before you could wrap your head around what was happening, you felt your cheeks heating up. [♥]|Ch 3.16.6][$Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100), $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100), $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional + 3, 0, 100), $Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic - 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100), $D_romance to $D_romance+1]]<<notify 5s>>+ Friendly, + Genuine
+ Humble<</notify>>“This is… not what I expected,” you said, unable to contain your amusement. There was something so absurd about the whole scene—$C_name fuming, $D_name’s relentless teasing—that you couldn’t help but laugh. “I mean, do you always hit on people that you’ve just met?”
$D_name chuckled, clearly delighted by your response.
“Only when I find the company attractive,” $D_heshe said, $D_hisher tone playful but also laced with sincerity.
You raised an eyebrow, still smiling. “Why am I not surprised?”
$C_name’s expression remained locked somewhere between frustration and disbelief.
“You shouldn’t be encouraging $D_himher,” $C_heshe muttered, shooting you a look that seemed to plead for you to have some sanity in the conversation.
But it was hard not to be amused. $D_name’s seamless confidence, paired with $C_name’s barely concealed exasperation, made the entire situation absurd—almost laughable. And laugh you did, shaking your head once again.
“Maybe I like to spice things up sometimes," you said, glancing at $C_name with a smile that tried to diffuse $C_hisher tension. “It keeps things interesting.”
$C_name shot you a look, part annoyance, part betrayal, though beneath it all, you could tell $C_heshe wasn’t entirely upset. $D_name, on the other hand, looked like a cat who got the cream, $D_hisher metallic eyes gleaming with satisfaction at your lighthearted response.
“See?” $D_heshe said, $D_hisher tone triumphant. “$HeShe get<<s>> it.”
For a moment, the tension shifted. $D_name’s mischievous vibe still hung in the air, but it felt less uncomfortable now, almost like the banter amongst old friends. $C_name still looked torn between aggravation and relief, but the ease in your laugh had somehow lessened the pressure that had been mounting between the three of you. You couldn’t help but feel a small spark of gratitude for $D_name’s easygoing attitude. It wasn’t much, but for now, it seemed enough to keep things from blowing up.
$D_name's smirk deepened as $D_heshe noticed $C_name’s reaction.
“You know,” $D_heshe continued, voice dropping conspiratorially, “I can tell when someone’s got unfinished business. And you two? Oh, definitely unfinished.”
$C_name was now full-on glaring at $D_himher. “Don’t start now, $D_name.”
$D_HeShe didn’t seem to pay $D_hisher friend any mind. “It could only get worse if $heshe <<were>> also residing in Blackthorne Hall.”
$C_name must’ve noticed that you were now quiet and had a weird look on your face because $C_hisher jaw drops. “No fucking way.”
$D_name seemed a little confused before it clicked for $D_himher as well and $D_heshe immediately started laughing. “This is going to be glorious.”
“No, it really isn’t,” $C_name grumbled, face-palming $C_himself.
“You know what that means,” $D_name said with a teasing smile. “Maybe you two can get along better during the dinner event tomorrow.”
“Wait what?” you interrupted, thoroughly feeling confused. “What dinner?”
$C_name looked at you like you grew a second head. “Where in the world have you been? Everybody’s talking about it.”
Your instinct was to say <em>actually, I’ve been passed out for a day or two and have no concept of time anymore</em>, but you caught yourself, knowing that wouldn't go over well. Instead, you sighed, resigning yourself to the inevitable. “Apparently not where I was supposed to be."
$D_name, on the other hand, was already grinning. “You mean you haven’t heard about the Blackthorne Hall formal dinner? The grand spectacle? The soirée to end all soirées?” $D_HisHer voice was dripping with sarcasm, but $D_hisher eyes gleamed with mischief. “You might want to prepare yourself. It’s going to be something. Or at least, that’s what the uptight lot keeps saying.”
*[[“Are you going too, Lacroix?”|Ch 3.17.1]]
*[[“Rook, are you going as well?”|Ch 3.17.2]]<<notify 5s>>+ Friendly, + Sarcastic
+ Arrogant<</notify>>“Well, I suppose if I’m going to be the subject of conversation, I might as well have a little fun with it, right?” You shot $D_name a sly grin, your tone dipping into sarcasm. “I mean, $C_name clearly doesn’t want to share, but I can’t help it if I’m just that memorable.”
$D_name laughed, delighted by your response.
“Exactly. See, this is why I knew you’d be fun.” $D_HisHer eyes twinkled with mischief as $D_heshe glanced at his best friend, who was currently glaring daggers at $D_himher. “$C_Ceddy bear here always gets all wound up when $C_heshe thinks someone’s stepping on $C_hisher toes. But I like a challenge.”
$C_name rolled $C_hisher eyes, clearly done with $D_name’s antics but also visibly struggling to keep $C_hisher annoyance under control.
“I’m not—” $C_heshe started, then sighed, shaking $C_hisher head as if trying to shake off the ridiculousness of the situation. “You’re both absolutely insufferable.”
You grinned, sighing and shrugging in mock helplessness. “Can’t help it if I’m just on this much high-demand,” you said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “But don’t worry, <em>$C_Ceddy bear</em>, I’ll make sure not to cause too much trouble.”
$C_HeShe shot you a scathing look, irritated to high heavens, before shaking $C_hisher head again. $D_name, meanwhile, seemed thoroughly entertained, $D_hisher metallic gaze lingering on you as though he was savoring every second of your playful banter.
The mischievous dynamic continued to hang in the air, but there was intention in the way $D_name watched you. $C_name, though still annoyed, seemed to relax slightly, the tension between the three of you shifting into something lighter, more playful, as though you had successfully turned the interaction into a joke rather than a confrontation. But the glint in$D_name’s eyes made you wonder just how far $D_heshe usually takes these situations.
$D_name's smirk deepened as $D_heshe glanced at $D_hisher friend.
“You know,” $D_heshe continued, voice dropping conspiratorially, “I can tell when someone’s got unfinished business. And you two? Oh, definitely unfinished.”
$C_name was now full-on glaring at $D_himher. “Don’t start now, $D_name.”
$D_HeShe didn’t seem to pay $D_hisher friend any mind. “It could only get worse if $heshe <<were>> also residing in Blackthorne Hall.”
$C_name must’ve noticed that you were now quiet and had a weird look on your face because $C_hisher jaw drops. “No fucking way.”
$D_name seemed a little confused before it clicked for $D_himher as well and $D_heshe immediately started laughing. “This is going to be glorious.”
“No, it really isn’t,” $C_name grumbled, face-palming $C_himself.
“You know what that means,” $D_name said with a teasing smile. “Maybe you two can get along better during the dinner event tomorrow.”
“Wait what?” you interrupted, thoroughly feeling confused. “What dinner?”
$C_name looked at you like you grew a second head. “Where in the world have you been? Everybody’s talking about it.”
Your instinct was to say <em>actually, I’ve been passed out for a day or two and have no concept of time anymore</em>, but you caught yourself, knowing that wouldn't go over well. Instead, you sighed, resigning yourself to the inevitable. “Apparently not where I was supposed to be."
$D_name, on the other hand, was already grinning. “You mean you haven’t heard about the Blackthorne Hall formal dinner? The grand spectacle? The soirée to end all soirées?” $D_HisHer voice was dripping with sarcasm, but $D_hisher eyes gleamed with mischief. “You might want to prepare yourself. It’s going to be something. Or at least, that’s what the uptight lot keeps saying.”
*[[“Are you going too, Lacroix?”|Ch 3.17.1]]
*[[“Rook, are you going as well?”|Ch 3.17.2]]<<notify 5s>>+ Laidback, + Sarcastic<</notify>>“Honestly, if this is how you two interact on a regular basis, I feel like I’ve just walked into a sitcom,” you said, your voice casual as you leaned back slightly, observing the dynamic between the two friends with newfound amusement. “And I’ve got to say, it’s pretty entertaining.”
$D_name grinned, clearly pleased.
“We aim to please,” $D_heshe said, glancing at $D_hisher friend. “Though some of us do it more gracefully than others.”
$C_name scowled, clearly unamused. “This really isn’t some kind of show, $D_name.”
You couldn’t help but laugh again, glancing at $C_name with a raised eyebrow. “Well, it does kind of feels like one. But I guess I don’t mind playing along—for now, anyway.”
$C_HeShe shot you an exasperated look, but $C_hisher irritation seemed tempered by your calm demeanor. $D_name, on the other hand, seemed positively thrilled by your laid-back attitude about this, $D_hisher eyes gleaming with amusement as $D_heshe leaned back against the wall.
“See, $C_Ceddy bear? Would it kill you to be as chill as $himher,” he said, his tone casual but also teasing. “You’d be more fun to hang around then.”
$C_HeShe rolled his eyes, grumbling something about insufferable people and his uncanny ability to end up in their company.
$D_name's smirk deepened as $D_heshe noticed $C_hisher reaction.
“You know,” $D_heshe continued, voice dropping conspiratorially, “I can tell when someone’s got unfinished business. And you two? Oh, definitely unfinished.”
$C_name was now full-on glaring at $D_himher. “Don’t start now, $D_name.”
$D_HeShe didn’t seem to pay $D_hisher friend any mind. “It could only get worse if $heshe <<were>> also residing in Blackthorne Hall.”
$C_name must’ve noticed that you were now quiet and had a weird look on your face because $C_hisher jaw drops. “No fucking way.”
$D_name seemed a little confused before it clicked for $D_himher as well and $D_heshe immediately started laughing. “This is going to be glorious.”
“No, it really isn’t,” $C_name grumbled, face-palming $C_himself.
“You know what that means,” $D_name said with a teasing smile. “Maybe you two can get along better during the dinner event tomorrow.”
“Wait what?” you interrupted, thoroughly feeling confused. “What dinner?”
$C_name looked at you like you grew a second head. “Where in the world have you been? Everybody’s talking about it.”
Your instinct was to say <em>actually, I’ve been passed out for a day or two and have no concept of time anymore</em>, but you caught yourself, knowing that wouldn't go over well. Instead, you sighed, resigning yourself to the inevitable. “Apparently not where I was supposed to be."
$D_name, on the other hand, was already grinning. “You mean you haven’t heard about the Blackthorne Hall formal dinner? The grand spectacle? The soirée to end all soirées?” $D_HisHer voice was dripping with sarcasm, but $D_hisher eyes gleamed with mischief. “You might want to prepare yourself. It’s going to be something. Or at least, that’s what the uptight lot keeps saying.”
*[[“Are you going too, Lacroix?”|Ch 3.17.1]]
*[[“Rook, are you going as well?”|Ch 3.17.2]]<<notify 5s>>+ Bold, + Extrovert
+ Arrogant<</notify>>“Well,” you said slowly, letting the weight of your words sink in, “I hope you’re not just all talk. Can you put your money where your mouth is?”
Your voice had dropped into a smooth, almost purring tone, and you saw $D_name’s grin falter for a split second, surprise flickering across $D_hisher face. $D_HeShe hadn’t expected you to respond like that, and it showed. But, $D_name being $D_himself, $D_heshe recovered quickly, $D_hisher gray eyes glinting with a newfound interest. $D_HeShe leaned in just a fraction, close enough for the scent of leather and something woodsy to fill the space between you.
“Careful, pretty $MC_boy, lest you get addicted to the heaven I’ll bring you” $D_heshe replied, $D_hisher voice lowering to match yours, the playful grin softening into something more intent. “But you’re welcome to find out—if you can handle it, of course.”
$C_name, beside $D_himher, was watching the interaction with growing disbelief. $C_HisHer fair face flushed, and $C_hisher brows furrowed in frustration.
“Are you two serious right now?” $C_heshe muttered, $C_hisher voice tight with exasperation. “This isn’t—”
You cut $C_himher off with a casual shrug, your smile never faltering. “Just exploring my options, Lacroix. Nothing wrong with that, is there?”
$C_name’s eyes narrowed, and though $C_heshe didn’t respond right away, you could see the irritation simmering behind their chalcedony depths. $D_name, on the other hand, seemed to be thriving on the tension, $D_hisher attention fixed squarely on you now. The teasing glint in $D_hisher eyes had shifted to something more focused.
“You know,” $D_heshe said, $D_hisher voice dropping lower, “I wasn’t expecting this. But I’ve got to admit, I’m impressed. You’re way more... interesting than I thought.”
The way $D_heshe looked at you now wasn’t just playful anymore; there was something more intent behind it, a flicker of intrigue mingled with $D_hisher amusement. It was as though you’d shifted the entire dynamic between you two with just a few words—and now, $D_name was seeing you in a completely different light.
$C_name let out a sharp breath, stepping between you and $D_name just slightly, as if to shield you from whatever effect $C_hisher friend’s words might be having.
“You’re not going to eye-fuck somebody in front of me,” $C_heshe muttered again, clearly trying to reassert control over the situation. “I refu—”
But before $C_name could finish, $D_name laughed boisterously, $D_hisher gaze still locked on yours.
“You know, $C_name,” $D_heshe said, though $D_hisher words were meant for you. “I’m actually really not sorry about dragging you to the activities fair with me anymore.”
$C_name’s eyes hardened along with $C_hisher voice. “$D_name, enough.”
Something seems to snap back into place in $D_name’s eyes and there is suddenly a more guarded look which takes over $D_himher. $D_HeShe looked away, suddenly very focused on anyone around $D_himher who wasn’t you.
$D_HeShe then shook $D_hisher head, as if to clear away $D_hisher thoughts and change the subject. “You know, I can tell when someone’s got unfinished business. And you two? Oh, definitely unfinished.”
$C_name was now full-on glaring at $D_himher. “Don’t start now, $D_name.”
$D_HeShe didn’t seem to pay $D_hisher friend any mind. “It could only get worse if $heshe <<were>> also residing in Blackthorne Hall.”
$C_name must’ve noticed that you were now quiet and had a weird look on your face because $C_hisher jaw drops. “No fucking way.”
$D_name seemed a little confused before it clicked for $D_himher as well and $D_heshe immediately started laughing. “This is going to be glorious.”
“No, it really isn’t,” $C_name grumbled, face-palming $C_himself.
“You know what that means,” $D_name said with a teasing smile. “Maybe you two can get along better during the dinner event tomorrow.”
“Wait what?” you interrupted, thoroughly feeling confused. “What dinner?”
$C_name looked at you like you grew a second head. “Where in the world have you been? Everybody’s talking about it.”
Your instinct was to say <em>actually, I’ve been passed out for a day or two and have no concept of time anymore</em>, but you caught yourself, knowing that wouldn't go over well. Instead, you sighed, resigning yourself to the inevitable. “Apparently not where I was supposed to be."
$D_name, on the other hand, was already grinning. “You mean you haven’t heard about the Blackthorne Hall formal dinner? The grand spectacle? The soirée to end all soirées?” $D_HisHer voice was dripping with sarcasm, but $D_hisher eyes gleamed with mischief. “You might want to prepare yourself. It’s going to be something. Or at least, that’s what the uptight lot keeps saying.”
*[[“Are you going too, Lacroix?”|Ch 3.17.1]]
*[[“Rook, are you going as well?”|Ch 3.17.2]]<<notify 5s>>+ Shy, + Emotional
+ Humble<</notify>>Your heart stuttered in your chest, and before you could stop it, a flush crept up your neck, coloring your cheeks in a warmth you couldn’t hide. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words tangled on your tongue. $D_name’s eyes, gleaming with mischief just moments ago, now held something else—something more curious, more interested.
“I—uh,” you mumbled, the attention suddenly overwhelming. “I’m not sure what to say to that…”
The grin on $D_name’s face softened. $D_HeShe took a step closer, not enough to crowd you but just enough for the warmth of $D_hisher presence to brush against your skin.
“You don’t have to say anything,” $D_heshe said, $D_hisher voice gentling, the teasing edge smoothing out. “You know, you’re actually… more interesting than I thought you’d be. I wasn’t expecting someone like you.”
$D_HisHer eyes swept over you, but there was something different in the way $D_heshe looked at you now—less playful, more intent. It was as if $D_heshe was seeing you for the first time, really seeing you. $D_HisHer usual carefree demeanor had softened, and for a moment, there was a pause in the air between you, heavy with a different kind of tension.
$C_name, noticing the shift, stepped in closer, $C_hisher face a storm of emotions. Anger, frustration, and something that almost looked like protectiveness. But towards whom exactly?
“$D_name, that’s enough,” $C_heshe said, $C_hisher voice low, more commanding than before. “This isn’t a joke.”
$D_name raised an eyebrow but didn’t take $D_hisher eyes off you.
“Who said it was?” $D_heshe asked, $D_hisher voice calm but serious now, $D_hisher playful tone gone. $D_HisHer gaze lingered on you, a new kind of curiosity sparking in $D_hisher eyes. “$HeShe really <<are>> different from what I initially expected.”
Your breath caught in your throat. The way $D_heshe said it, like $D_heshe was re-evaluating everything about you, made your stomach flip in a way you weren’t prepared for. Was this still part of the game $D_heshe seemed to be playing, or had something shifted for real?
“I wasn’t…” You trailed off, your cheeks still burning, feeling suddenly out of place in this strange, charged moment. $D_name had gone from playful to intrigued, and it was making your head spin. “I wasn’t trying to be anything.”
“I know,” $D_heshe said, $D_hisher voice softening even more, almost tender now. “That’s what makes it interesting. I prefer it.”
$C_name let out an exasperated breath, clearly struggling to keep $C_hisher composure. $C_HisHer eyes flicked from you to $D_name, as if trying to figure out how the situation had spiraled so quickly into such uncharted territories.
“You’re pushing it, $D_name,” $C_heshe muttered.
$D_name smiled, but this time, it wasn’t teasing—it was softer, more genuine.
“That’s not really my intention,” $D_heshe said, $D_hisher gaze still on you. “I’m just… mesmerized.”
The word hung in the air, heavy and full of meaning. You could feel your pulse quicken, your skin tingling under the weight of $D_hisher attention. Something told you that $D_name was seeing you in a way $D_heshe hadn’t seen anybody before, and you didn’t know what to make of it.
You swallowed, trying to steady yourself. Whatever was happening, it was clear now that this wasn’t just harmless playfulness anymore. $D_name seemed serious, and the realization sent a jolt of electricity through you.
$C_name, noticing your flustered state and knowing full well how $C_hisher best friend was with the people $D_heshe was ‘interested’ in, stepped even closer, $C_hisher voice hardening. “$D_name, enough.”
Something seemed to snap back into place in $D_name’s eyes and there was suddenly a more guarded look which took over $D_himher. $D_HeShe looked away, suddenly very focused on anyone around $D_himher who wasn’t you.
$D_HeShe then shook $D_hisher head, as if to clear away $D_hisher thoughts and change the subject. “You know, I can tell when someone’s got unfinished business. And you two? Oh, definitely unfinished.”
$C_name was now full-on glaring at $D_himher. “Don’t start now, $D_name.”
$D_HeShe didn’t seem to pay $D_hisher friend any mind. “It could only get worse if $heshe <<were>> also residing in Blackthorne Hall.”
$C_name must’ve noticed that you were now quiet and had a weird look on your face because $C_hisher jaw drops. “No fucking way.”
$D_name seemed a little confused before it clicked for $D_himher as well and $D_heshe immediately started laughing. “This is going to be glorious.”
“No, it really isn’t,” $C_name grumbled, face-palming $C_himself.
“You know what that means,” $D_name said with a teasing smile. “Maybe you two can get along better during the dinner event tomorrow.”
“Wait what?” you interrupted, thoroughly feeling confused. “What dinner?”
$C_name looked at you like you grew a second head. “Where in the world have you been? Everybody’s talking about it.”
Your instinct was to say <em>actually, I’ve been passed out for a day or two and have no concept of time anymore</em>, but you caught yourself, knowing that wouldn't go over well. Instead, you sighed, resigning yourself to the inevitable. “Apparently not where I was supposed to be."
$D_name, on the other hand, was already grinning. “You mean you haven’t heard about the Blackthorne Hall formal dinner? The grand spectacle? The soirée to end all soirées?” $D_HisHer voice was dripping with sarcasm, but $D_hisher eyes gleamed with mischief. “You might want to prepare yourself. It’s going to be something. Or at least, that’s what the uptight lot keeps saying.”
*[[“Are you going too, Lacroix?”|Ch 3.17.1]]
*[[“Rook, are you going as well?”|Ch 3.17.2]]<<notify 5s>>+ Aloof, + Cautious
+ Uptight<</notify>>You held $D_name’s gaze for a moment, your face giving away nothing as you measured the situation. Whatever this was, you weren’t about to be drawn into it. Not now, and not like this.
“Nice to meet you," you said, voice flat but polite, your eyes never quite meeting $D_hishers. “Though I’m not sure what you’re trying to accomplish here."
$D_name’s grin faltered slightly, but it didn’t fully disappear. $D_HisHer gray eyes narrowed just a fraction, as if re-evaluating $D_hisher approach. $D_HeShe leaned away a little, hands sliding into $D_hisher pockets as $D_hisher posture shifted to something more casual. “Accomplish? I’m not trying to accomplish anything. Just trying to make introductions.”
Your lips pressed together, unimpressed. $C_name gave you a subtle nod of approval, seeming relieved that you weren’t feeding into $D_name’s usual antics. The air between the three of you remained taut, like a drawn wire ready to snap, but your neutral stance seemed to dampen some of the heat.
“Right,” you said, your tone level, careful.
$D_name raised an eyebrow, clearly catching the hint of detachment in your voice, though $D_hisher smile remained.
“Well, I’d hate to make you uncomfortable,” $D_heshe said lightly, but there was a touch of something sharper beneath the surface. $D_HisHer eyes flickered toward $C_name, then back to you, recalculating the situation in real time. “But for what it’s worth, I was just curious. You seem interesting.”
The way $D_heshe said it didn’t feel like a compliment. It felt like something else—like $D_heshe was assessing you, weighing your reaction for reasons you couldn’t yet understand. But instead of responding, you simply met $D_hisher gaze and gave a slight nod. Neutral. Detached. You wouldn’t give $D_himher the satisfaction of playing along, and it seemed that, for now, $D_heshe was okay with letting the weird tension linger, unresolved.
Then $D_name started to smirk as if something was snapping into place in $D_hisher head.
“You know,” $D_heshe continued, voice dropping conspiratorially, “I can tell when someone’s got unfinished business. And you two? Oh, definitely unfinished.”
$C_name was now full-on glaring at $D_himher. “Don’t start now, $D_name.”
$D_HeShe didn’t seem to pay $D_hisher friend any mind. “It could only get worse if $heshe <<were>> also residing in Blackthorne Hall.”
$C_name must’ve noticed that you were now quiet and had a weird look on your face because $C_hisher jaw drops. “No fucking way.”
$D_name seemed a little confused before it clicked for $D_himher as well and $D_heshe immediately started laughing. “This is going to be glorious.”
“No, it really isn’t,” $C_name grumbled, face-palming $C_himself.
“You know what that means,” $D_name said with a teasing smile. “Maybe you two can get along better during the dinner event tomorrow.”
“Wait what?” you interrupted, thoroughly feeling confused. “What dinner?”
$C_name looked at you like you grew a second head. “Where in the world have you been? Everybody’s talking about it.”
Your instinct was to say <em>actually, I’ve been passed out for a day or two and have no concept of time anymore</em>, but you caught yourself, knowing that wouldn't go over well. Instead, you sighed, resigning yourself to the inevitable. “Apparently not where I was supposed to be."
$D_name, on the other hand, was already grinning. “You mean you haven’t heard about the Blackthorne Hall formal dinner? The grand spectacle? The soirée to end all soirées?” $D_HisHer voice was dripping with sarcasm, but $D_hisher eyes gleamed with mischief. “You might want to prepare yourself. It’s going to be something. Or at least, that’s what the uptight lot keeps saying.”
*[[“Are you going too, Lacroix?”|Ch 3.17.1]]
*[[“Rook, are you going as well?”|Ch 3.17.2]]$C_name straightened up and puffed $C_hisher chest.
“Yeah, of course. It is a big requirement after all.” $C_name glanced at $D_name, shooting $D_himher a half-hearted glare. “Unlike some people, I don’t plan on skipping it for... whatever nonsense $D_heshe’s planning on doing.”
$D_name laughed, the sound low and teasing. “Nonsense? Oh, come on, $C_name. You know these dinners are just stuffy social calls. No one actually enjoys them. We’re students, not politicians or celebrities.” $D_HeShe turned to you with a lazy grin. “It’s a Wednesday night tomorrow and Sigma Chi is throwing a start-of-semester party. That’s where the real action’s going to be. I, for one, am planning on heading there. Much more fun, if you ask me. Blackthorne Hall may be prestigious, but they rarely throw any interesting events.”
$C_name’s frown deepened. “You’re already looking to break rules before classes even start?”
$D_name shrugged, completely unfazed by $C_hisher reprimand. “I’m not exactly breaking rules. I’m just bending them a little. And honestly, who cares? I’m not going off-campus and it’s not like anyone will notice.”
“You’re pushing your luck again,” $C_name muttered, pinching the bridge of $C_hisher nose. “You’ll get caught for sure and somehow, I’ll have to cover up for you.”
“Aw, $C_Ceddy bear, thank you so much for volunteering to do so.” $D_name cooed with a smirk.
At this, $C_name actually face-palmed, groaning under $C_hisher breath. “I told you to stop calling me that.”
$D_name simply laughed and turned back to you. “Anyway, I’ve already got my plans. You, on the other hand... you’re going to this lovely formal, yes?”
<div id="centered">[[“I don’t even have any formalwear planned!”|Ch 3.18]]</div>$D_name leaned against the nearby wall, crossing $D_hisher arms as a lazy smirk tugged at $D_hisher lips. “Not to the dinner, no. Too stuffy for my taste. It’s a Wednesday night tomorrow and Sigma Chi is throwing a start-of-semester party. That’s where the real action’s going to be. I, for one, am planning on heading there. Much more fun, if you ask me. Blackthorne Hall may be prestigious, but they rarely throw any interesting events.”
$C_name shot $D_name with a withering look. “You really don’t care about how this looks, do you?”
$D_name winked at you, $D_hisher gray eyes gleaming with mischief. “I care about fun. And trust me, I know you’d have more of it with me than at some formal dinner where everyone is pretending that they belong in high society.”
“I belong,” $C_name snapped, sounding both defensive and resigned. “You could at least try to respect the traditions, $D_name. You don’t have to go, but don’t drag others into whatever new stupidity you’ve concocted.”
$D_name’s grin widened. “Respect traditions? Come on, $C_name, when have I ever cared about those?”
$C_name sighed. “You really are looking to break rules before classes even start.”
$D_name shrugged, completely unfazed by $C_hisher disappointed tone. “I’m not exactly breaking rules. I’m just bending them a little. And honestly, who cares? I’m not going off-campus and it’s not like anyone will notice.”
“You’re pushing your luck again,” $C_name muttered, pinching the bridge of $C_hisher nose. “You’ll get caught for sure and somehow, I’ll have to cover up for you.”
“Aw, $C_Ceddy bear, thank you so much for volunteering to do so.” $D_name cooed with a smirk.
At this, $C_name actually face-palmed, groaning under $C_hisher breath. “I told you to stop calling me that.”
$D_name simply laughed and turned back to you. “Anyway, I’ve already got my plans. You, on the other hand... you’re going to this lovely formal, yes?”
<div id="centered">[[“I don’t even have any formalwear planned!”|Ch 3.18]]</div>Your exasperation came through as you sighed. “How am I supposed to get through a formal dinner without a fucking formalwear?”
$D_name’s eyes gleamed with amusement, and $D_heshe opened $D_hisher mouth to make some undoubtedly inappropriate suggestions, but $C_name cut $D_himher off.
“I’ll help you,” $C_heshe said quickly, because the idea of $D_name’s unhelpful intervention was enough for $C_himher to push aside the bad blood between you two for now. Though $C_heshe was probably doing it so $C_heshe doesn’t have it on $C_hisher good conscience for some reason. “I have connections. We can find you something suitable.”
$D_name, on the other hand, merely chuckled, clearly not as concerned.
“Or,” $D_heshe said, dragging out the word as if presenting a much better alternative, “you could skip the formalities altogether and come with me. No need for fancy clothes, just good vibes and some questionable life choices.”
$C_name clenched $C_hisher jaw, shaking $C_hisher head. “You’re not helping, $D_name.”
“I’m helping in my own way,” $D_name said, flashing you a grin. “And besides, who wants to waste a night dressed up in uncomfortable clothes when you could be dancing, drinking, and actually having fun?”
<<if $C_romance gt 0 and $D_romance is 0>>$C_name scowled. “At least $heshe’ll look $MC_handsome, unlike whatever nonsense you’re planning for that party.”<<else>>$C_name scowled. “At least $heshe’ll look decent, unlike whatever nonsense you’re planning for that party.”<</if>>
“So,” $D_name said, ignoring $C_name and raising an eyebrow at you with a questioning grin, “what do you think? Stuffy formal dinner, or a night you won’t forget?”
$C_name shot $D_name a warning look. “Don’t start corrupting people in front of me.”
$D_name rolled $D_hisher eyes. “Oh, please. It’s not corruption if they make the choice willingly.” $D_HeShe winked at you again. “And I have a feeling you’re not as uptight as $C_Ceddy bear over here.”
$C_name grumbled again. “Just... whatever you decide, don’t let $D_himher talk you into something you’ll regret.”
*<<link '“I... suppose it wouldn’t be too bad to attend the dinner. I really hope you have some good formalwear options, $C_name.” [C ♥]' "Ch 3.19.1">><<set $outfitselection to "C"; $C_romance to $C_romance+1>><</link>>/*[[Ch 3.19.1]]*/
*<<link '“Um, I don’t know, I should probably talk to my suitemate about $V_hisher plans first.” [V ♥]' "Ch 3.19.2">><<set $outfitselection to "V"; $V_romance to $V_romance+1>><</link>>/*[[Ch 3.19.2]]*/
*<<link '“You know what, $D_name, the party actually sounds like something I wouldn’t want to miss.” [D ♥]' "Ch 3.19.3">><<set $outfitselection to "D"; $D_romance to $D_romance+1>><</link>>/*[[Ch 3.19.3]]*/
*<<link '“I should probably check with $M_name about the formalwear. Knowing how bougie the RAs here dress, $M_heshe probably knows how to nab a good few.” [M ♥]' "Ch 3.19.4">><<set $outfitselection to "M"; $M_romance to $M_romance+1>><</link>>/*[[Ch 3.19.4]]*/
“I guess the dinner wouldn’t be so bad," you said, giving in with a small sigh. “But I really hope you have some good formalwear options, $C_name. I’m not exactly ready for anything grand."
$C_HisHer mouth twitched, a hint of a smirk, though $C_hisher voice remained biting. “Of course I do. Not that I’d expect you to know much about style, but I’ll do my best to make sure you look impeccable enough to not embarrass yourself tomorrow.”
$D_name snorted, a crooked grin spreading across $D_hisher face. “Impeccable? Sounds like a snooze-fest.”
$C_name shot $C_himher a warning look, clearly not appreciating the jab. “Some of us actually care about how we present ourselves, $D_name. Not that I expect you to understand.”
But $D_name wasn’t fazed, leaning casually against the wall, $D_hisher gray eyes gleaming. “Hey, as long as you’re having fun. Though, I still think the party would be more memorable.”
“Memorable how? By getting kicked out from the resident hall on the first week of arriving here?” $C_name scoffed, already pulling out $C_hisher phone. “Here, give me your number. I’ll send you some pictures of the outfits.”
You handed over your phone, and $C_name quickly typed $C_hisher contact in, $C_hisher brows furrowing in concentration. “You’re already in the GroupMe for Blackthorne, right?”
You blinked. “Uh… I don’t think so?”
$C_name rolled $C_hisher eyes, grumbling under $C_hisher breath. “Of course not. Looks like everyone is way too incompetent here as well. You should ask an RA to get it sorted out.”
As $C_name handed your phone back, $D_name stepped closer, holding out $D_hisher own phone with a teasing smile. “Might as well exchange contacts too, in case you change your mind about that party.”
You couldn’t help but smile slightly as you handed over your phone once again, this time to $D_name, who winked as $D_heshe added $D_hisher contact while you typed yours into $D_hishers. “There. Now you have options.”
Before you could say anything more, $C_name cleared $C_hisher throat, clearly done with the conversation. “Come on, $D_name. We’ve got things to do.” $C_HeShe then glanced at you. “See you around, $MC_surname.”
A frown suddenly marred $D_name’s thick brows. “Wait a gosh darn second! That name, isn’t that—”
“Okay, time to go,” $C_name suddenly interrupted, grabbing $D_himher by the arm and dragging $D_himher away as $D_heshe protested and continued to look at you in slack-jawed shock.
<div id="centered">[[Well, that was not weird at all.|Ch 3.20]]</div>
$C_name scoffed, his irritation barely concealed. “Right. Because you need permission to attend a dinner that’s mandatory for our entire hall. Incredible.”
$D_name rolled $D_hisher eyes, but there was a curious glint in them as $D_heshe leaned forward slightly. “Suitemates? Bless your heart. I hope you won’t let them drag you down into being boring. I’m just telling you, the party’s the real event tomorrow.”
$C_name made a small sound of annoyance, clearly displeased.
“Ignore $D_himher,” $C_heshe muttered, almost to $C_himself. “$D_HeShe’s just trying to be funny in an awful way.”
$D_name smirked. “And what’s wrong with that? Besides, it’d be a shame if you were stuck at that formal with all those self-important people.”
$C_name groaned softly. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”
$D_name’s grin only widened as $D_heshe pulled out $D_hisher phone. “Let me give you my number, just in case your suitemate’s plans are as boring as $C_name’s here.”
You handed $D_himher your phone, watching as $D_name added $D_hisher contact with a quick flourish. “There. Now you’ve got a backup option.”
$C_name sighed, pulling out $C_hisher phone as well. “Fine, I’ll send you my number too. I really do hope your suitemate’s not planning on doing anything but attending the dinner.”
You couldn’t help but laugh as you accepted both their contacts, feeling oddly caught between the two. “Thanks, I guess?”
Before you could say anything more, $C_name cleared $C_hisher throat, clearly done with the conversation. “Come on, $D_name. We’ve got things to do.” $C_HeShe then glanced at you. “See you around, $MC_surname.”
A frown suddenly marred $D_name’s thick brows. “Wait a gosh darn second! That name, isn’t that—”
“Okay, time to go,” $C_name suddenly interrupted, grabbing $D_himher by the arm and dragging $D_himher away as $D_heshe protested and continued to look at you in slack-jawed shock.
<div id="centered">[[Well, that was not weird at all.|Ch 3.20]]</div>
$D_name’s eyes lit up, $D_hisher grin broadening as if you’d just made $D_hisher night. “I knew you had a wild streak in you. You won’t regret it, I promise.” He shot $C_name a teasing glance. “See? Some people know how to have fun.”
$C_name’s expression darkened, a mix of annoyance and concern flashing across $C_hisher features. “You can’t be serious. You’re actually going to—”
“I mean, why not?” you said, shrugging lightly. “It sounds more fun than standing around in a fancy hall, right?”
$C_name groaned softly, muttering something to $C_himself. “Fine. Do whatever you want. But let it not be said that I didn’t try my best.”
$D_name, still grinning, pulled out $D_hisher phone. “Here, let me give you my number. That way I can make sure you don’t get lost on your way to the party.”
You handed $D_himher your phone, feeling a slight thrill as $D_heshe added $D_hisher contact. “There you go. Now you’re officially part of the fun.”
You felt a little thrill of excitement at the spontaneity of it. You weren’t sure if it was the idea of the party itself or just $D_name’s infectious energy that made it seem like a good idea, but you didn’t regret your choice.
$C_name sighed heavily, reluctantly pulling out $C_hisher own phone to NameDrop. “I’ll give you my number too, just in case you change your mind. But seriously, don’t let $D_name drag you into something you know you’ll fret about later.”
“Ugh,” $D_name groaned with faux puppy eyes. “You’re always such a buzzkill, $C_Ceddy bear.”
“I try my best,” $C_name gave $D_himher a sarcastic smile.
Before you could say anything more, $C_name cleared $C_hisher throat, clearly done with the conversation. “Come on, $D_name. We’ve got things to do.” $C_HeShe then glanced at you. “See you around, $MC_surname.”
A frown suddenly marred $D_name’s thick brows. “Wait a gosh darn second! That name, isn’t that—”
“Okay, time to go,” $C_name suddenly interrupted, grabbing $D_himher by the arm and dragging $D_himher away as $D_heshe protested and continued to look at you in slack-jawed shock.
<div id="centered">[[Well, that was not weird at all.|Ch 3.20]]</div>
$C_name raised an eyebrow, surprised by your suggestion. “$M_name? The posh one?” $M_heshe asked. “I didn’t realize you were familiar with $M_himher. Already sucking up to the RAs?”
You shrugged, ignoring $C_hisher jab. “Well, $M_heshe is... nice, and from what I’ve seen, $M_heshe probably has some inside knowledge on how to score decent formalwear.”
$D_name let out a low chuckle. “RAs in Blackthorne have style, sure, but good luck getting them to lend anything out. You’ll have better chances at a thrift store.”
$C_name rolled $C_hisher eyes and in a surprisingly supportive tone said: “Don’t listen to $D_himher. If you think $M_name will help, you can still try. And if you still need options, I can make sure you’re not stranded. Text me.”
You hesitated for a second before taking out your phone to NameDrop your contact. It felt oddly formal, like some unspoken agreement had just been made.
$D_name leaned in, offering $D_hisher phone as well. “And when the formal becomes too boring for words, hit me up. I’ll get you to the real fun.”
Before you could say anything more, $C_name cleared $C_hisher throat, clearly done with the conversation. “Come on, $D_name. We’ve got things to do.” $C_HeShe then glanced at you. “See you around, $MC_surname.”
A frown suddenly marred $D_name’s thick brows. “Wait a gosh darn second! That name, isn’t that—”
“Okay, time to go,” $C_name suddenly interrupted, grabbing $D_himher by the arm and dragging $D_himher away as $D_heshe protested and continued to look at you in slack-jawed shock.
<div id="centered">[[Well, that was not weird at all.|Ch 3.20]]</div>
Having had enough of socialization for one day, you decided to go back to your dorm. The dimming light of the evening only emphasized your need to disappear, your mind already heavy with the day’s events.
The path back to the Hall was quieter than usual, the air a little too still. Blackthorne’s imposing stone structure loomed in the distance, its Gothic arches casting long shadows that stretched like dark fingers across the ground. You quickened your pace, thinking only of collapsing into the safety of your room, where you could sink into the bed, shut out the world, and finally breathe.
You soon made it back to your suite and into your dormitory, the familiar surroundings welcoming you like a soft landing. The bed, the desk, the shelves filled with textbooks and half-read novels—it was all so normal, so grounding after a day that felt anything but. You sank into your bed, pulling the covers over you and letting the exhaustion pull you into a short, dreamless sleep.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.21">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.21]]*/<<notify>>Saved!<</notify>>A soft knock echoed from your door which made your eyes fly open.
It was so gentle that you almost missed it, but then it came again—meek, uncertain, as if whoever was on the other side wasn't entirely sure they should be there. You check the time: <strong>7:23 p.m</strong>.
You hesitated for a moment before standing, crossing the room lazily to open the door. When you pulled it open, there was $V_name, standing in the hallway with $V_hisher hands clasped together, fingers nervously twisting the metal cross $V_heshe wore around $V_hisher neck. $V_HisHer deep brown eyes were downcast at first, glancing up at you with a kind of timidness that made you think of a newborn lamb.
“Hey,” $V_heshe mumbled quietly, avoiding direct eye contact for a second. Then, with a hesitant smile, $V_heshe spoke up, “I heard you come in a few hours ago and… I was just wondering if you might be hungry? It’s late, and you haven’t eaten yet, right?” $V_hisher voice wavered just enough to let you know that $V_heshe was half-expecting you to immediately turn $V_himher away.
As if on cue, your stomach betrayed you, letting out an embarrassingly loud growl. The timing couldn’t have been worse—or better, depending on how you looked at it.
*<<link '$V_HeShe better not ever mention this to anyone.' "Ch 3.22.1">><<set $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100); $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100); $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100); $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100); $V_friendship to $V_friendship+1>><</link>>/*[[Ch 3.22.1]]*/
*[[You let out an embarrassed laugh.|Ch 3.22.2][$Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $V_friendship to $V_friendship+5]]
*<<link 'You’re praying to the universe that $V_heshe didn’t hear that.' "Ch 3.22.3">><<set $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100); $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100); $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100); $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100); $V_friendship to $V_friendship+5>><</link>>/*[[Ch 3.22.3]]*/
*[[You internally curse your anatomy for giving you away like that.|Ch 3.22.4][$Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $V_friendship to $V_friendship+4]]
*[[You cough loudly, trying your hardest to pretend it didn’t happen.|Ch 3.22.5][$Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100), $V_friendship to $V_friendship+5]]<<notify 5s>>+ Arrogant, + Uptight<</notify>>You cleared your throat, narrowing your eyes slightly at $V_name, who was now awkwardly standing there, trying to suppress a nervous smile.
“I swear,” you said, voice low and laced with mock-seriousness, “if you mention this to anyone, it’s over. You’re done.”
$V_HeShe blinked in surprise, but then the tension broke as $V_heshe laughed softly, the nervousness in $V_hisher shoulders easing. “Your secret’s safe with me,” $V_heshe promised, still smiling. “I wouldn’t dare expose you.”
You gave a short nod, pretending to be imperious, though you could feel the amusement pulling at the corners of your mouth despite your best efforts to remain serious.
“Good,” you replied. “I’ll hold you to that. And...” you trailed off before shrugging, “yeah, apparently I am hungry."
$V_name’s relief was palpable, the tension in $V_himher melting as $V_heshe looked at you more directly now, the corners of $V_hisher mouth lifting into a soft smile.
“I thought so," $V_heshe said, a bit more confidently. “I was just about to grab something myself, but I thought... maybe we could eat together? If you want. I mean, we could head to the dining hall, or..." $V_heshe glanced down the hall before meeting your eyes again. “We could make something here. I’m not much of a chef, but, well, I could help.”
The offer felt genuine, thoughtful even. A small but meaningful gesture from $V_name, whose quiet presence had somehow managed to unconsciously make you less exhausted. You glanced back at your room, then back at $V_himher, considering the options.
*[[“Let's make something here. It'll be nice to cook together.” [♥]|V Heart Event 1][$V_romance to $V_romance+1]]
*[[“The dining hall sounds good. It’s easier, and I’m starving.”|Ch 3.23]]<<notify 5s>>+ Friendly, + Sarcastic<</notify>>You couldn’t help it—the sound that escaped your mouth was somewhere between a laugh and a groan, half-embarrassed but mostly amused at how perfectly timed the whole thing was.
“Welp,” you said, throwing your hands up in mock defeat, “there goes my dignity. It just defenestrated itself out the window.”
$V_name smiled gently, more at ease now. “I think it’s still mostly intact.”
“Mostly?” you shot back with a grin. “That’s generous of you. I’d say my stomach is conspiring against me at this point.”
$V_HeShe chuckled, the sound comforting. “I think it just agrees that you need food.”
“Yeah, I guess I do," you conceded, stepping back slightly from the doorway.
$V_name’s relief was palpable, the tension in $V_hisher shoulders easing as $V_heshe looked at you more directly now, the corners of $V_hisher mouth lifting into a soft smile.
“I thought so," $V_heshe said, a bit more confidently. “I was just about to grab something myself, but I thought... maybe we could eat together? If you want. I mean, we could head to the dining hall, or..." $V_heshe glanced down the hall before meeting your eyes again. “We could make something here. I’m not much of a chef, but, well, I could help.”
The offer felt genuine, thoughtful even. A small but meaningful gesture from $V_name, whose quiet presence had somehow managed to unconsciously make you less exhausted. You glanced back at your room, then back at $V_himher, considering the options.
*[[“Let's make something here. It'll be nice to cook together.” [♥]|V Heart Event 1][$V_romance to $V_romance+1]]
*[[“The dining hall sounds good. It’s easier, and I’m starving.”|Ch 3.23]]<<notify 5s>>+ Laidback, + Genuine<</notify>>You felt the heat rise to your face as your stomach growled loudly, and you silently sent a plea to the universe: <em>Please, please let $V_name not have heard that.</em>
“Uh…” you began, awkwardly scratching the back of your neck, “so... hungry?”
To your dismay, $V_name had heard it, and $V_heshe tried—and failed—to hide a small laugh. “Yeah, I think I got the idea.”
You gave an exaggerated sigh, leaning against the doorframe. “Well, that’s embarrassing.”
“It’s fine,” $V_heshe reassured you, still smiling. “We can fix it with food. Simple solution. I was just about to grab something myself, but I thought... maybe we could eat together? If you want. I mean, we could head to the dining hall, or..." $V_heshe glanced down the hall before meeting your eyes again. “We could make something here. I’m not much of a chef, but, well, I could help.”
The offer felt genuine, thoughtful even. A small but meaningful gesture from $V_name, whose quiet presence had somehow managed to unconsciously make you less exhausted. You glanced back at your room, then back at $V_himher, considering the options.
*[[“Let's make something here. It'll be nice to cook together.” [♥]|V Heart Event 1][$V_romance to $V_romance+1]]
*[[“The dining hall sounds good. It’s easier, and I’m starving.”|Ch 3.23]]<<notify 5s>>+ Uptight, + Sarcastic<</notify>>Your face tightened in silent annoyance as you cursed your own anatomy. Of all the times your body could have chosen to give you away, this was the moment it picked. Perfect.
$V_name smiled, slightly unsure, probably sensing the tension in the air. You forced yourself to remain composed, but you couldn’t help the sarcasm that slipped out of your mouth.
“Well,” you said dryly, crossing your arms, “guess my stomach made the decision for me. Subtle, right?”
$V_HeShe chuckled softly, clearly picking up on your mood but choosing to play along. “It does seem to have a mind of its own.”
“Yeah, apparently,” you muttered, shaking your head. “I’m gonna need a new stomach after this. But yes… I am starving.”
$V_name’s relief was palpable, the tension in $V_hisher shoulders easing as $V_heshe looked at you more directly now, the corners of $V_hisher mouth lifting into a genuine smile.
“I thought so," $V_heshe said, a bit more confidently. “I was just about to grab something myself, but I thought... maybe we could eat together? If you want. I mean, we could head to the dining hall, or..." $V_heshe glanced down the hall before meeting your eyes again. “We could make something here. I’m not much of a chef, but, well, I could help.”
The offer felt genuine, thoughtful even. A small but meaningful gesture from $V_name, whose quiet presence had somehow managed to unconsciously make you less exhausted. You glanced back at your room, then back at $V_himher, considering the options.
*[[“Let's make something here. It'll be nice to cook together.” [♥]|V Heart Event 1][$V_romance to $V_romance+1]]
*[[“The dining hall sounds good. It’s easier, and I’m starving.”|Ch 3.23]]<<notify 5s>>+ Aloof, + Uptight<</notify>>You coughed, a little too loudly, hoping to cover up the sound of your stomach growling. As if that would somehow erase it from the universe’s record.
$V_name raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering across $V_hisher face. $V_HeShe definitely heard. “You okay there?”
“I’m fine,” you replied, voice clipped and neutral as you crossed your arms. “Just clearing my throat.”
$V_HeShe smiled lightly, probably recognizing your attempt to maintain your composure but wisely choosing not to press the issue. “Right. Well... maybe some food would help?”
“Maybe,” you conceded, though you weren’t about to admit defeat. You still had your pride, after all. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt.”
$V_name’s relief was palpable, the tension in $V_hisher shoulders easing as $V_heshe looked at you more directly now, the corners of $V_hisher mouth lifting into a soft smile.
“I thought so," $V_heshe said, a bit more confidently. “I was just about to grab something myself, but I thought... maybe we could eat together? If you want. I mean, we could head to the dining hall, or..." $V_heshe glanced down the hall before meeting your eyes again. “We could make something here. I’m not much of a chef, but, well, I could help.”
The offer felt genuine, thoughtful even. A small but meaningful gesture from $V_name, whose quiet presence had somehow managed to unconsciously make you less exhausted. You glanced back at your room, then back at $V_himher, considering the options.
*[[“Let's make something here. It'll be nice to cook together.” [♥]|V Heart Event 1][$V_romance to $V_romance+1]]
*[[“The dining hall sounds good. It’s easier, and I’m starving.”|Ch 3.23]]<<audio "VH1" loop volume 0 fadein>>“I’m not really in the mood for the dining hall,” you admitted, leaning against the doorframe. “Too many people, too loud. We could just make something here? I mean, if you’re up for it.”
For a moment, $V_hisher expression wavered between hesitation and relief. Then $V_heshe nodded, almost too quickly. “Yeah, okay. That sounds nice.”
You stepped aside, gesturing for $V_himher to lead the way. Together, the two of you made your way down the hall to the kitchenette—one of those tucked-away dorm facilities that seemed perpetually unused, always too clean for how old it was. The fluorescent lights flickered as you both stepped inside, the hum of electricity filling the small space. It was quiet enough to hear the faint echo of your footsteps, and for a second, it felt almost like stepping into another world.
“Not much to work with,” you muttered as you rummaged through the cupboards and fridge—some Parmesan cheese, a loaf of bread, a tin of anchovies, a box of pasta, some spice jars, a random Tabasco sauce bottle, and a jar of pickles. “I haven’t had much time to do shopping so most of these must be yours.”
$V_name shrugged sheepishly. “I didn’t shop much either, just grabbed anything that seemed like they might go along well.”
You put your hands on your hips, surveying the weird assortment of ingredients. “You know what, at least we’ll be able to make something interesting. I’m not aiming for five-star dining here, just survival.”
*[[“Besides,” you added with a smirk, holding up the jar of pickles, “who needs gourmet when you’ve got this? A jar of pickles is practically a full meal.” [♥]|VH1 1.1][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100), $V_romance to $V_romance+1]]
*[[You smiled softly. “Honestly, I kind of like it. No expectations, just... seeing what we can come up with.” [♥]|VH1 1.2][$Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100), $V_romance to $V_romance+1]]
*[[“Honestly, I can make anything taste good,” you said pompously, grabbing the pasta. “Even with this mess. It’s not about the ingredients, it’s about the execution.” [♥]|VH1 1.3][$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100), $V_romance to $V_romance+1]]
*[[You gave a contrite smile. “Okay, let’s be real. This might be a disaster, but at least we’ll share the embarrassment of it.” [♥]|VH1 1.4][$Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100), $V_romance to $V_romance+1]]
*[[You shrugged, picking up the loaf of bread. “Well, it’s not like we need much, right? We’ll figure something out.” [♥]|VH1 1.5][$Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100), $V_romance to $V_romance+1]]
*[[“I’m not sure ‘interesting’ is what I’d go for when it comes to dinner,” you muttered, eyeing the anchovies suspiciously. “But desperate times, I guess.” [♥]|VH1 1.6][$Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $V_romance to $V_romance+1]]<<notify 5s>>+ Friendly, + Genuine<</notify>>$V_name looked at you, a little surprised but warming to the idea. “Yeah, I guess there’s something fun about just winging it.”
“You get it!” you exclaimed, laughing with them. “Let’s just make sure we make something edible.”
You got to work with $V_name stood next to you, handing you things whenever you asked. The process was slow and awkward, but strangely, it was fun. The conversation flowed easily, with you both poking fun at the hodgepodge of ingredients and your dubious cooking skills. The pasta boiled in the pot, the pickles sat ominously on the counter, and the bread was being toasted.
“So, what’s the verdict?” $V_name asked, glancing at you as you sliced through the toast with far more focus than was necessary. “Do we actually try and combine all this, or is there still time to back out?”
You paused, staring at the odd collection of food with the same expression one might use when looking at a new avant-garde art. “I think we’ve passed the point of no return.”
<<button "Next" "VH1 2">><</button>>
/*[[VH1 2]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Arrogant<</notify>>There was a flash of amusement in $V_name's eyes as $V_heshe glanced at the sad collection of ingredients you’d lined up on the counter.
“Oh really?" $V_heshe asked, raising an eyebrow. "You think you can turn that into something edible?"
You puffed out your chest just slightly, letting your ego take up a little more space than usual. “Absolutely,” you said, confidently holding up the box of pasta like it was your secret weapon. “Anyone can make a good meal with perfect ingredients. But turning this into something decent? That takes real skill.”
$V_name laughed—a quiet, genuine sound that felt like a small victory in itself. “Alright then, let’s do it.”
You got to work with $V_name stood next to you, handing you things whenever you asked. The process was slow and awkward, but strangely, it was fun. The conversation flowed easily, with you both poking fun at the hodgepodge of ingredients and your dubious cooking skills. The pasta boiled in the pot, the pickles sat ominously on the counter, and the bread was being toasted.
“So, what’s the verdict?” $V_name asked, glancing at you as you sliced through the toast with far more focus than was necessary. “Do we actually try and combine all this, or is there still time to back out?”
You paused, staring at the odd collection of food with the same expression one might use when looking at a new avant-garde art. “I think we’ve passed the point of no return.”
<<button "Next" "VH1 2">><</button>>
/*[[VH1 2]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Humble, + Genuine<</notify>>$V_name chuckled softly, a hint of relief in $V_hisher expression as $V_heshe relaxed against the counter.
“Honestly? I’m just glad I’m not doing this alone,” $V_heshe admitted, flashing you a small smile.
You laughed quietly, shaking your head. “Yeah, same. I mean, if this all goes wrong, at least we’ll have a good story, right?”
There was something comforting in the shared vulnerability, the acknowledgment that neither of you were culinary masterminds, nor were you trying to be.
You got to work with $V_name stood next to you, handing you things whenever you asked. The process was slow and awkward, but strangely, it was fun. The conversation flowed easily, with you both poking fun at the hodgepodge of ingredients and your dubious cooking skills. The pasta boiled in the pot, the pickles sat ominously on the counter, and the bread was being toasted.
“So, what’s the verdict?” $V_name asked, glancing at you as you sliced through the toast with far more focus than was necessary. “Do we actually try and combine all this, or is there still time to back out?”
You paused, staring at the odd collection of food with the same expression one might use when looking at a new avant-garde art. “I think we’ve passed the point of no return.”
<<button "Next" "VH1 2">><</button>>
/*[[VH1 2]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Aloof, + Laidback<</notify>>$V_name gave you a curious look, the faintest hint of a smile playing at $V_hisher lips. “You’re awfully calm about this.”
You shrugged again, casually slicing the loaf of bread. “What’s the worst that could happen? We mess it up, and then... I don’t know, we suck it up and go to the dining hall or something.”
$V_HeShe laughed, a quiet sound that seemed to dissolve some of the tension in the room. “I guess you’re right.”
You got to work with $V_name stood next to you, handing you things whenever you asked. The process was slow and awkward, but strangely, it was fun. The conversation flowed easily, with you both poking fun at the hodgepodge of ingredients and your dubious cooking skills. The pasta boiled in the pot, the pickles sat ominously on the counter, and the bread was being toasted.
“So, what’s the verdict?” $V_name asked, glancing at you as you sliced through the toast with far more focus than was necessary. “Do we actually try and combine all this, or is there still time to back out?”
You paused, staring at the odd collection of food with the same expression one might use when looking at a new avant-garde art. “I think we’ve passed the point of no return.”
<<button "Next" "VH1 2">><</button>>
/*[[VH1 2]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Uptight, + Sarcastic<</notify>>You wrinkled your nose at the tin of anchovies, holding it between your thumb and forefinger like it might bite you if you weren’t careful. $V_name stifled a laugh at the sight of your hesitation, and you shot $V_himher a glare.
“Hey, don’t laugh,” you said, setting the tin down with exaggerated caution. “You’re the one who bought this... thing.”
“I didn’t know what else to grab,” $V_heshe said defensively, though there was amusement dancing in $V_hisher eyes. “It looked fancy.”
You sighed dramatically, rubbing a hand over your face. “Fancy? Sure. Tasty? Debatable.”
$V_name chuckled again, clearly enjoying your over-the-top reaction to the anchovies. “It’s not that bad.”
“Uh huh,” you muttered skeptically. “Remind me of that when we’re choking down salty fish for dinner.”
You got to work with $V_name stood next to you, handing you things whenever you asked. The process was slow and awkward, but strangely, it was fun. The conversation flowed easily, with you both poking fun at the hodgepodge of ingredients and your dubious cooking skills. The pasta boiled in the pot, the pickles sat ominously on the counter, and the bread was being toasted.
“So, what’s the verdict?” $V_name asked, glancing at you as you sliced through the toast with far more focus than was necessary. “Do we actually try and combine all this, or is there still time to back out?”
You paused, staring at the odd collection of food with the same expression one might use when looking at a new avant-garde art. “I think we’ve passed the point of no return.”
<<button "Next" "VH1 2">><</button>>
/*[[VH1 2]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Sarcastic, + Laidback<</notify>>$V_name chuckled softly, shaking $V_hisher head in disbelief. “If you say so. I’m pretty sure that’s <em>not</em> what they meant when they said to eat your greens.”
You leaned back on the counter, giving a dramatic sigh. “I bet if we were in some trendy Brooklyn bistro, this would be considered a delicacy. We’re basically culinary pioneers.”
$V_HeShe raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Yeah, pioneers in bad taste.”
“Oh ye of little faith,” you sing-singed and waggled a pickle in front of their face. “Watch the great Ratatouille at work.”
$V_name scrunched $V_hisher nose. “Isn’t that the name of the dish?”
“Details details,” you said, waving it off. “Now come on, help me out!”
You got to work with $V_name stood next to you, handing you things whenever you asked. The process was slow and awkward, but strangely, it was fun. The conversation flowed easily, with you both poking fun at the hodgepodge of ingredients and your dubious cooking skills. The pasta boiled in the pot, the pickles sat ominously on the counter, and the bread was being toasted.
“So, what’s the verdict?” $V_name asked, glancing at you as you sliced through the toast with far more focus than was necessary. “Do we actually try and combine all this, or is there still time to back out?”
You paused, staring at the odd collection of food with the same expression one might use when looking at a new avant-garde art. “I think we’ve passed the point of no return.”
<<button "Next" "VH1 2">><</button>>
/*[[VH1 2]]*/The two of you stared down at the plate in silence.
The end result was… well, it looked like a sandwich. Sort of. There was bread, at least. And something resembling a filling. You both stood there, staring down at the monstrosity that you had created: a mess of pasta, pickles, anchovies, and Parmesan cheese precariously sandwiched between two slices of bread. It wasn’t exactly Instagram-worthy, but you hadn’t expected it to be.
$V_name glanced at you, eyebrows raised, holding the bottle of Tabasco hot sauce like it was some kind of magic fix. “You think this will help?”
You gave a doubtful look at the bottle, then back at the sad sandwich creation sitting in front of you. “I mean, at this point, why not?”
With a small, almost scared grin, $V_heshe unscrewed the cap and drizzled a generous amount of hot sauce onto the concoction. The vivid red liquid seeped into the already-questionable filling, pooling around the pasta and anchovies in a way that should’ve been a neon red flag resembling the color of the ‘dish’ itself.
“Well,” you muttered, grimacing at the dripping mess, “we’ve come this far.”
$V_name gave a small, pained chuckle. “You’re really going to eat that?”
With a sigh, you lifted your half of the sandwich. “Not like I have much choice, do I? Might as well commit.”
The two of you exchanged a look—part bravery, part sheer insanity—before taking simultaneous bites. Immediately, you regretted every single decision you’d made in life to get to this point.
The anchovies were saltier than you could have imagined, the pickles sour in a way that was almost aggressive like a vinegar-y punch to the throat, the hot sauce scorching your throat like you’d swallowed fire. The textures were a disaster in and of themselves, the crunch of the pickles and the soft, mushy pasta clashing violently in your mouth. And the bread? It was soggy, soaked through with sauce and oil from the anchovies, quickly dissolving into something that was more paste than food.
It was, without a doubt, the worst thing you’d ever tasted in your life.
$V_name coughed immediately, clutching $V_hisher throat. “Oh my God,” $V_heshe gasped, swallowing with visible effort. “That’s—why, in the good name of Christ, did we think this was a good idea?”
You laughed, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably as the reality of what you’d done finally hit. It wasn’t just bad—it was <em>terrible</em>, in the way only something made with no real plan and too much misleading confidence could be.
*[[“Well, that was... an experience,” you said, still laughing, pushing the plate away like it might spring to life and attack you. [♥]|VH1 3.1][$Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100), $V_romance to $V_romance+1]]
*[[You raised an eyebrow, trying to stifle your laugh. “Well, at least I know it wasn’t my cooking that ruined it. Clearly, it was the anchovies.” [♥]|VH1 3.2][$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100), $V_romance to $V_romance+1]]
*[[You sighed between your laughter, picking at the sandwich. “Well, at least we didn’t burn the kitchen down.” [♥]|VH1 3.3][$Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100), $V_romance to $V_romance+1]]
*[[“I should’ve known it was over when you pulled out the anchovies,” you said, chuckling and eyeing the tin like it had betrayed you personally. [♥]|VH1 3.4][$Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $V_romance to $V_romance+1]]<<notify 5s>>+ Friendly, + Genuine<</notify>>$V_name was laughing too now, wheezing slightly between gasps. “How are we even going to finish this?”
“No idea,” you replied, still grinning as you wiped a tear from your eye. “But I’ll tell you one thing, it’s gonna be a long time before I touch hot sauce again.”
<<button "Next" "VH1 POV">><</button>>
/*[[VH1 POV]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Arrogant, + Uptight<</notify>>$V_name let out a small laugh. “Sure, blame the anchovies. It definitely wasn’t the weird combination we came up with.”
You harrumphed. “I refuse to take the blame here!”
<<button "Next" "VH1 POV">><</button>>
/*[[VH1 POV]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Aloof, + Laidback<</notify>>$V_name grinned, pushing away the remains of $V_hisher half. “The night’s still young. We could try again.”
“I think we’ve tempted fate enough for one night,” you replied, your tone dry but with a hint of amusement. You couldn’t help but feel like this disaster was a victory in itself. You hadn’t made a masterpiece, but you’d survived, and that felt like enough.
<<button "Next" "VH1 POV">><</button>>
/*[[VH1 POV]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Uptight, + Sarcastic<</notify>>$V_name snorted. “Hey, don’t blame me. You were the one who agreed to add the hot sauce.”
You couldn’t help but laugh again. “Yeah, yeah, point taken. But next time, I’m doing all the shopping. No more fish in a tin.”
<<button "Next" "VH1 POV">><</button>>
/*[[VH1 POV]]*/<em><strong><u>$V_name’s POV</u></strong></em>
It had started out as a complete mess, this impromptu dinner that wasn’t really dinner. They had both looked at the sandwich in stunned silence for longer than was reasonable, and honestly, it was a miracle neither of them ended up on the toilet after forcing down even a bite of that inedible disaster. But then, somehow, it had turned into laughter—real, genuine laughter. The kind that made their stomachs ache and tears pool in the corners of their eyes, the kind of laughter that broke down the awkwardness that had still been hovering between them since they’d met two days ago.
Two days. That’s all it had been, but it felt like longer. Or maybe it just felt like more.
$V_name wasn’t sure when things had shifted exactly, when that initial layer of nervous politeness between them had started to crack, but at some point, standing there in the flickering fluorescent lights of the dorm’s ancient kitchenette, things had become easier. More natural. Maybe it was the shared embarrassment of their culinary catastrophe. Maybe it was the way $MC_firstname didn’t seem to care about looking ridiculous—at the moment at least. It was kind of refreshing, really.
Eventually, the two of them abandoned the so-called ‘meal’ entirely, tossing the inedible sandwich into the trash with no small amount of relief. That’s when $V_name had spotted it: two forgotten packs of Lunchables at the very back of the minifridge, nestled behind some empty egg cartons. Probably leftovers from the senior interns who stayed over the summer. It was a miracle they hadn’t expired.
“Wait, hold on,” $V_heshe said, crouching down to reach for it. “I think we just got saved.”
$MC_firstname looked at $V_himher skeptically as $V_heshe held up the packages like it was some kind of trophy. “Lunchables? Seriously? Do we have the palate of a nine year old?”
“Desperate times,” $V_name said with a shrug, feeling a surge of triumph as $V_heshe handed $himher one of the plastic trays. “It’s not gourmet, but it beats whatever that was.” $V_HeShe gestured to the soggy pile of failed ‘sandwiches’ in the trash.
$MC_firstname laughed once more, one that made $V_name’s stomach suddenly twist a little in a way that $V_heshe wasn’t quite expecting. “Fine. Lunchables it is.”
They retreated from the kitchen with their prize and settled on the worn couch in the common room, the two Lunchables packs spread out like a feast on the small coffee table between them. It wasn’t much—some processed crackers, slices of what was generously called cheese, a few rounds of turkey slices cut in circles—but compared to what they’d just tried to eat, it was a godsend.
<<if $V_gender is "male">><<if $MC_gender is "cisgender female" or $MC_gender is "transgender female">>$V_name chewed thoughtfully on a cracker, watching as $MC_firstname reached for the remote and started flipping through Netflix.
“What do you feel like watching?” $MC_firstname asked, pausing on a screen of thumbnails that all looked basically the same. Rom-coms, action thrillers, horror movies. The usual.
$V_name shrugged. “I’m not picky. Just... something easy. Nothing too intense.”
$MC_firstname nodded, scrolling for a few more seconds before stopping on a random movie called <em>To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before</em>. It looked light-hearted enough. $MC_firstname hit play, and the screen filled with a wash of color as the show began.<<else>>$V_name chewed thoughtfully on a cracker, watching as $MC_firstname reached for the remote and started flipping through Amazon Prime.
“What do you feel like watching?” $MC_firstname asked, pausing on a screen of thumbnails that all looked basically the same. Rom-coms, action thrillers, horror movies. The usual.
$V_name shrugged. “I’m not picky. Just... something easy. Nothing too intense.”
$MC_firstname nodded, scrolling for a few more seconds before stopping on a random movie called <em>Red White and Royal Blue</em>. It looked light-hearted enough. $MC_firstname hit play, and the screen filled with a wash of color as the show began.<</if>><<else>><<if $MC_gender is "cisgender male" or $MC_gender is "transgender male">>$V_name chewed thoughtfully on a cracker, watching as $MC_firstname reached for the remote and started flipping through Netflix.
“What do you feel like watching?” $MC_firstname asked, pausing on a screen of thumbnails that all looked basically the same. Rom-coms, action thrillers, horror movies. The usual.
$V_name shrugged. “I’m not picky. Just... something easy. Nothing too intense.”
$MC_firstname nodded, scrolling for a few more seconds before stopping on a random movie called <em>To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before</em>. It looked light-hearted enough. $MC_firstname hit play, and the screen filled with a wash of color as the show began.<<else>>$V_name chewed thoughtfully on a cracker, watching as $MC_firstname reached for the remote and started flipping through Hulu.
“What do you feel like watching?” $MC_firstname asked, pausing on a screen of thumbnails that all looked basically the same. Rom-coms, action thrillers, horror movies. The usual.
$V_name shrugged. “I’m not picky. Just... something easy. Nothing too intense.”
$MC_firstname nodded, scrolling for a few more seconds before stopping on a random movie called <em>Crush</em>. It looked light-hearted enough. $MC_firstname hit play, and the screen filled with a wash of color as the show began.<</if>><</if>>
The two of them sat in companionable silence as the opening credits rolled, the flickering light casting shifting shadows across $MC_firstname’s face. For a while, $V_name was content to focus on the movie, to let the casual rhythm of it settle in. But at some point, $V_name found $V_hisher eyes drifting—not toward the screen, but toward $himher.
It wasn’t a conscious decision, at first. It just... happened. A subtle shift in focus. And there $MC_firstname was, leaning back into the couch cushions, eyes fixed on the TV, bathed in the soft glow of the screen. $MC_firstname looked relaxed, completely at ease, like the whole evening had been nothing out of the ordinary. But to $V_name, something about it felt different. Something about the way $MC_firstname's features were illuminated, softened by the low light from the TV, struck $V_name in a way that was unexpectedly unsettling.
<div id="centered"><<link '$MC_firstname was $MC_handsome.' "VH1 5">><</link>></div>
/*[[VH1 5]]*/The thought crept up on $V_name before $V_heshe could stop it, and suddenly, it was all $V_heshe could think about. Not in the obvious, surface-level way. Not in the way people casually throw around the word. It was something deeper, quieter—a realization that snuck into $V_name’s chest and curled up there, warm and confusing.
$MC_firstname turned $hisher head slightly, catching $V_name looking, and for a moment, their eyes met in the dim light. The air seemed to shift between them, something thick and unknown settling into the space. $V_name felt $V_hisher breath catch, just for a second, before $V_heshe managed to tear $V_hisher gaze away, forcing $V_hisher attention back to the TV. The movie was still playing—some character was making a joke, but $V_name couldn’t focus on the words. Couldn’t focus on anything except the strange feeling building in $V_hisher chest.
But there was more. There was something in the way $MC_firstname’s eyes flickered back to the screen, then at $V_himher, a soft, almost secret smile curling at the corner of $hisher lips when the movie reached a particularly cheesy part. The laughter that bubbled up from $hisher throat felt effortless, infectious, and before $V_name even realized it, $V_heshe was grinning too. It felt... good, this moment.
If $MC_firstname noticed anything, $heshe didn’t said it out loud, simply continuing to pay attention to the screen as if nothing had happened. But for $V_name, something had. Something small but significant, like a shift in gravity, pulling $V_himher toward a realization $V_heshe wasn’t quite ready to face.
<<if $MC_gender is "non-binary">>$V_name mentally shook $V_hisher head, trying to dismiss the growing warmth in $V_hisher chest as nothing more than appreciation. $MC_firstname was nice enough, sure, and surprisingly easy to talk to. But that didn’t mean... anything else, right? $V_name wasn’t even sure why the thought had crossed $V_hisher mind in the first place. They had only known each other for two days at most and met under unfortunate circumstances, plus it wasn’t like they’d spent that much time together either. This wasn’t what people would call a ‘crush,’ it was just... admiration! Yeah! That’s all it was.
And yet, when $V_name glanced back at $MC_firstname again, that feeling was still there, gnawing at the edges of $V_hisher thoughts, making $V_himher more aware of the space between them. Not that there was much of it. The couch wasn’t exactly big.
$V_name shifted slightly, trying to focus on the TV and ignore the flutter in $V_hisher chest. It was nothing. Just admiration.<<elseif $MC_gender is "cisgender male" or $MC_gender is "transgender male">><<if $V_gender is "female">>It was strange, this sudden pull $V_name felt toward $MC_firstname. The two of them had met hardly two days ago under unfortunate circumstances, and hadn't even spent that much time together. But there was something about this moment, this quiet, simple moment, that made $V_name feel more aware of $MC_firstname’s presence than $V_heshe had been before. Maybe it was the way the light brought out $hisher eyes and their $MC_eyecolor depths, the way $heshe seemed so unguarded right now, so... real.
Whatever it was, it made $V_name feel something stir in $V_hisher ribs, something warm and unexpected. $V_HeShe tried not to think too hard about it, not to let it overwhelm $V_heshe, but it was there, undeniable, like the soft hum of electricity in the air.
$V_name swallowed, suddenly feeling more self-conscious than $V_heshe had all evening.<<else>>$V_name mentally shook $V_hisher head, trying to dismiss the growing warmth in $V_hisher chest as nothing more than appreciation. $MC_firstname was nice enough, sure, and surprisingly easy to talk to. But that didn’t mean... anything else, right? $V_name wasn’t even sure why the thought had crossed $V_hisher mind in the first place. They had only known each other for two days at most and met under unfortunate circumstances, plus it wasn’t like they’d spent that much time together either. This wasn’t what people would call a ‘crush,’ it was just... admiration! Yeah! That’s all it was.
And yet, when $V_name glanced back at $MC_firstname again, that feeling was still there, gnawing at the edges of $V_hisher thoughts, making $V_himher more aware of the space between them. Not that there was much of it. The couch wasn’t exactly big.
$V_name shifted slightly, trying to focus on the TV and ignore the flutter in $V_hisher chest. It was nothing. Just admiration.<</if>><<else>><<if $V_gender is "male">>It was strange, this sudden pull $V_name felt toward $MC_firstname. The two of them had met hardly two days ago under unfortunate circumstances, and hadn't even spent that much time together. But there was something about this moment, this quiet, simple moment, that made $V_name feel more aware of $MC_firstname’s presence than $V_heshe had been before. Maybe it was the way the light brought out $hisher eyes and their $MC_eyecolor depths, the way $heshe seemed so unguarded right now, so... real.
Whatever it was, it made $V_name feel something stir in $V_hisher ribs, something warm and unexpected. $V_HeShe tried not to think too hard about it, not to let it overwhelm $V_heshe, but it was there, undeniable, like the soft hum of electricity in the air.
$V_name swallowed, suddenly feeling more self-conscious than $V_heshe had all evening.<<else>>$V_name mentally shook $V_hisher head, trying to dismiss the growing warmth in $V_hisher chest as nothing more than appreciation. $MC_firstname was nice enough, sure, and surprisingly easy to talk to. But that didn’t mean... anything else, right? $V_name wasn’t even sure why the thought had crossed $V_hisher mind in the first place. They had only known each other for two days at most and met under unfortunate circumstances, plus it wasn’t like they’d spent that much time together either. This wasn’t what people would call a ‘crush,’ it was just... admiration! Yeah! That’s all it was.
And yet, when $V_name glanced back at $MC_firstname again, that feeling was still there, gnawing at the edges of $V_hisher thoughts, making $V_himher more aware of the space between them. Not that there was much of it. The couch wasn’t exactly big.
$V_name shifted slightly, trying to focus on the TV and ignore the flutter in $V_hisher chest. It was nothing. Just admiration.<</if>><</if>>
<<button "Next" "VH1 6">><</button>>
/*[[VH1 6]]*/<<audio "VH1" fadeoverto 15 0>>It was in the middle of one of the more dramatic scenes that $MC_firstname shifted slightly, turning to look at $V_himher. $hisher expression softened, and for a moment, $V_name felt like $MC_firstname could see right through $V_himher. Like all the half-formed feelings and barely-there thoughts $V_heshe had tried to bury were somehow exposed.
There was a beat of silence, the movie still playing in the background, but it felt like the world had slowed down. $V_name wasn’t sure what to say, or if $V_heshe should say anything at all. There was a rigidity there, quiet and simmering, but it wasn’t overtly uncomfortable; at least not to $V_himher.
“I’m glad we did this,” $MC_firstname said softly, breaking the silence.
$V_name blinked, startled by the sincerity in $MC_firstname’s voice. “Yeah,” $V_heshe murmured, trying to gather $V_hisher thoughts. “Me too. Maybe we should... do this again sometime. You know, as friends.”
Friends. The word felt safe, comfortable. It was a way to define whatever this was without making things complicated. Because that’s what they were, right? Just friends.
$MC_firstname’s smile widened, pearly whites on display and $V_name could see a flicker of emotion—maybe relief, maybe something else—pass through $hisher eyes in the hopes of lessening the usual awkwardness between them.
“Yeah,” $MC_firstname agreed. “I’d like that.”
And just like that, the moment passed. The tension that had lingered between them dissolved, leaving behind only the easy comfort of a new friendship.
<<if $outfitselection is "V">><<button "Next" "Ch 3.26 extra">><</button>><<else>><<button "Next" "Ch 3.27">><</button>><</if>>
/*[[Ch 3.26 extra]] [[Ch 3.27]]*/The decision to head to the dining hall felt like a relief, a simple solution to a long day that neither of you had the energy to complicate. $V_name nodded in agreement, still smiling, but you noticed a slight shift—a quiet sort of ease that came with knowing this night wouldn’t require much of either of you. Just food, a bit of company, and the silence that had grown comfortable between you in the past few minutes.
“Yeah, that sounds good,” $V_heshe said, sliding on $V_hisher jacket. “Let’s head over.”
You grabbed yours too, the fabric cool against your fingers as you shrugged it on, and the two of you headed down the narrow staircase of Blackthorne Hall. The hallways were quiet this late in the evening, most of the other students either out or tucked away in their rooms. Your footsteps echoed lightly on the stone floors as you made your way down, the familiar creak of old stairwells somehow comforting in its monotony.
As you reached the entrance, you noticed the usual rush had faded; the late-evening crowd was minimal, just a handful of students lingering at the tables. The overhead lights cast a soft glow over the space, and the smell of food, familiar and comforting, greeted you both as you stepped inside.
The high, vaulted ceilings, tall, arched windows, and long tables made of dark wood stretched out in rows beneath the dim glow of overhead chandeliers. It looked as grand as you remembered from last time. Aged portraits looked down at you haughtily as you and $V_name passed them.
You and $V_name grabbed your plates and made your way down the line, each of you silently surveying the options:
*[[A quinoa and kale salad, topped with roasted sweet potatoes, avocado, and a lemon-tahini dressing. Beside it was a hearty lentil and chickpea stew. [Vegan]|Ch 3.24][$MC_diet to "Vegan"]]
*[[A tray of spinach and ricotta stuffed ravioli with marinara sauce, and grilled vegetable skewers drizzled with balsamic vinegar. There was also a vegetarian lasagna with layers of roasted eggplant and zucchini. [Vegetarian]|Ch 3.24][$MC_diet to "Vegetarian"]]
*[[A gluten-free tray of pasta primavera with fresh herbs, accompanied by a basket of bread. There were also the gluten-free versions of the stuffed peppers. [Gluten-free]|Ch 3.24][$MC_diet to "Gluten-free"]]
*[[A roasted chicken thigh, perfectly seasoned with rosemary and garlic, alongside a serving of couscous and roasted vegetables. There were also beef sausages and a rich tomato soup. [Kosher]|Ch 3.24][$MC_diet to "Kosher"]]
*[[Grilled lamb kebabs served with fragrant basmati rice, a side of spiced lentils, and a cucumber yogurt dip. Next to that were trays of chicken shawarma with flatbread and pickled vegetables. [Halal]|Ch 3.24][$MC_diet to "Halal"]]
*[[A classic American-style steak and mashed potatoes dish, with gravy on the side. There was also roasted pork loin with apples and a tray of beef sliders, complete with all the toppings. [No dietary restriction]|Ch 3.24][$MC_diet to "None"]]After you both filled your trays, you settled at a long wooden table near the high windows. The dining hall, with its vaulted ceilings and heavy wooden beams, was quiet and cavernous, almost too grand for the mundane task of eating. Stained glass panels filtered the soft glow of the streetlights, casting muted colors over the long, polished tables where only a few other students sat, speaking in low voices.
“Do you usually eat here?” $V_name asked, digging into $V_hisher plate of vegetarian lasagna thoughtfully.
You shrugged, spearing a piece of your food with your fork. “I didn’t really have a choice because my cooking can be… atrocious for the lack of a better word.” You gave a short laugh, though there was a hint of truth behind the bland joke. “I’m kind of hopeless in the kitchen.”
$V_name gave a sympathetic smile. “You’re not alone. I’m not exactly a star in the kitchen either.” $V_HeShe picked at $V_hisher spinach, frowning slightly. “I just... I don’t know how to tell what’s going to taste good together. Like, I get the concept of following a recipe, but beyond that?” $V_HeShe shook $V_hisher head with a laugh. “It’s like a mystery every time. I’ll throw random things together and hope for the best.”
You smiled, understanding the struggle. “You think that’s bad? I never even had to try. Back home, we had a chef—like, a real chef—to cook for my dad and I. So I never learned.” You shrugged, stabbing another piece of food absentmindedly. “I was too busy with other stuff anyway. Cooking was never really on my radar. And Yale, well, let’s just say they don’t exactly prioritize those FACS classes you take back in middle school or high school.”
$V_name blinked at you, surprised. “You had a chef? I mean, I knew you were...” $V_HeShe trailed off, as if realizing it was probably rude to say what $V_heshe was going to say.
“Rich?” you offered with a chuckle. “Yeah. Pretty damn spoiled too, according to some people. But, you know, the whole cooking thing didn’t really come up until I got here. And now, well...” You motioned to your plate, where some semblance of a meal sat. “At least the food is pretty good.”
$V_name smiled softly, nodding in understanding. “I get it. My moms used to cook for me too. We’re pretty rich ourselves but they always insisted on having regular people’s meals. Both my moms grew up in poverty and family time is something they never compromise on despite everything. And now that I’m here, I’ll be surviving off of dining hall food and the occasional frozen dinner.”
You returned $V_hisher smile. “That explains why you’re so humble.”
$V_HeShe dipped down $V_hisher chin before replying: “It’s not really a big deal.”
*[[“You know what, frozen dinners sound wonderful. I should probably invest in a freezer just to stock up,” you mused, offering a wry grin.|Ch 3.25.1][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $V_friendship to $V_friendship+5]]
*[[“Honestly, I think we’re doing okay. At least we haven’t burned anything down yet.”|Ch 3.25.2][$Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100), $V_friendship to $V_friendship+5]]
*[[“That’s what college is, right? Learning how to fend for yourself in the most mediocre way possible.”|Ch 3.25.3][$Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100), $V_friendship to $V_friendship+5]]
*[[“If I’d known, I might’ve asked my chef to teach me a few things. You know, just for survival purposes.”|Ch 3.25.4][$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100), $V_friendship to $V_friendship+4]]
*[[“Let’s be real. Even if I tried, it wouldn’t have made a difference. I’m a disaster in the kitchen.”|Ch 3.25.5][$Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100), $V_friendship to $V_friendship+5]]<<notify 5s>>+ Sarcastic<</notify>>$V_name laughed, a short burst of sound that echoed in the grand space. “Honestly, I can’t tell if they’re a blessing or a curse. I’ve eaten so much when my moms weren’t home that I might as well be a walking frozen food section.”
You chuckled. “At least we’ll be consistent, right?”
The conversation flowed smoothly between you two, dipping into shared experiences and the occasional comments which earned a laugh from your suitemate. It felt calming: the simplicity of sharing a meal in a place that could otherwise feel overwhelming on your own. No heavy discussions, no overthinking. Just two people figuring things out as they went.
“I have to admit,” $V_name said after a moment, pushing $V_hisher plate away slightly. “This place is... intimidating. You know? The whole ‘dining like royalty’ thing? It’s kind of surreal.”
You nodded, leaning back in your chair and letting your gaze wander over the vaulted ceilings and stained-glass windows. “Yeah, it’s definitely not the kind of place you picture when you think of ‘dining hall.’ It feels more like we’re about to witness a medieval feast or something.”
$V_name grinned. “Complete with jesters and a roast pig.”
You chuckled, shaking your head. “Right? All we’re missing is the king at the head of the table, making decrees about who gets the last slice of cake.”
After a while, the plates were empty, and the dining hall seemed even quieter than before. You glanced at your phone, then at $V_name. “We should probably get going before we end up stuck here for the night.”
$V_HeShe stood up, gathering $V_hisher tray and giving you a nod. “Yeah, good call. I think I’ve had enough medieval ambiance for one night.”
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.26">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.26]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Friendly<</notify>>$V_name grinned, playing along. “Hey, that’s a valid point. No smoke alarms going off yet, no fire trucks... We’re basically experts.”
“Or maybe we’re only safe as long as we stay away from the kitchenette.”
$V_HeShe laughed, a warm, genuine sound, and you found yourself smiling without even thinking about it. There was something easy about talking to $V_name, like the two of you had known each for far longer than you really had.
The conversation flowed smoothly between you two, dipping into shared experiences and the occasional comments which earned a laugh from your suitemate. It felt calming: the simplicity of sharing a meal in a place that could otherwise feel overwhelming on your own. No heavy discussions, no overthinking. Just two people figuring things out as they went.
“I have to admit,” $V_name said after a moment, pushing $V_hisher plate away slightly. “This place is... intimidating. You know? The whole ‘dining like royalty’ thing? It’s kind of surreal.”
You nodded, leaning back in your chair and letting your gaze wander over the vaulted ceilings and stained-glass windows. “Yeah, it’s definitely not the kind of place you picture when you think of ‘dining hall.’ It feels more like we’re about to witness a medieval feast or something.”
$V_name grinned. “Complete with jesters and a roast pig.”
You chuckled, shaking your head. “Right? All we’re missing is the king at the head of the table, making decrees about who gets the last slice of cake.”
After a while, the plates were empty, and the dining hall seemed even quieter than before. You glanced at your phone, then at $V_name. “We should probably get going before we end up stuck here for the night.”
$V_HeShe stood up, gathering $V_hisher tray and giving you a nod. “Yeah, good call. I think I’ve had enough medieval ambiance for one night.”
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.26">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.26]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Aloof<</notify>>$V_name shrugged with a small smile, eyes flicking over the table like $V_heshe was considering it. “Yeah, I guess that’s the whole vibe, isn’t it? Just getting by, one frozen dinner at a time.”
“At least we’re not completely failing at it.”
$V_name nodded. “There’s something to be said for that. The bar’s low, but... we’re clearing it.”
The conversation flowed smoothly between you two, dipping into shared experiences and the occasional comments which earned a laugh from your suitemate. It felt calming: the simplicity of sharing a meal in a place that could otherwise feel overwhelming on your own. No heavy discussions, no overthinking. Just two people figuring things out as they went.
“I have to admit,” $V_name said after a moment, pushing $V_hisher plate away slightly. “This place is... intimidating. You know? The whole ‘dining like royalty’ thing? It’s kind of surreal.”
You nodded, leaning back in your chair and letting your gaze wander over the vaulted ceilings and stained-glass windows. “Yeah, it’s definitely not the kind of place you picture when you think of ‘dining hall.’ It feels more like we’re about to witness a medieval feast or something.”
$V_name grinned. “Complete with jesters and a roast pig.”
You chuckled, shaking your head. “Right? All we’re missing is the king at the head of the table, making decrees about who gets the last slice of cake.”
After a while, the plates were empty, and the dining hall seemed even quieter than before. You glanced at your phone, then at $V_name. “We should probably get going before we end up stuck here for the night.”
$V_HeShe stood up, gathering $V_hisher tray and giving you a nod. “Yeah, good call. I think I’ve had enough medieval ambiance for one night.”
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.26">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.26]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Arrogant<</notify>>$V_name chuckled, shaking $V_hisher head. “Yeah, you should’ve prepared for the apocalypse that is college cooking. But hey, live and learn, right?”
You smirked. “Maybe I’m better off this way. There’s something liberating about being clueless.”
“Or dangerous,” $V_name added with a grin.
“Same thing.”
The conversation flowed smoothly between you two, dipping into shared experiences and the occasional comments which earned a laugh from your suitemate. It felt calming: the simplicity of sharing a meal in a place that could otherwise feel overwhelming on your own. No heavy discussions, no overthinking. Just two people figuring things out as they went.
“I have to admit,” $V_name said after a moment, pushing $V_hisher plate away slightly. “This place is... intimidating. You know? The whole ‘dining like royalty’ thing? It’s kind of surreal.”
You nodded, leaning back in your chair and letting your gaze wander over the vaulted ceilings and stained-glass windows. “Yeah, it’s definitely not the kind of place you picture when you think of ‘dining hall.’ It feels more like we’re about to witness a medieval feast or something.”
$V_name grinned. “Complete with jesters and a roast pig.”
You chuckled, shaking your head. “Right? All we’re missing is the king at the head of the table, making decrees about who gets the last slice of cake.”
After a while, the plates were empty, and the dining hall seemed even quieter than before. You glanced at your phone, then at $V_name. “We should probably get going before we end up stuck here for the night.”
$V_HeShe stood up, gathering $V_hisher tray and giving you a nod. “Yeah, good call. I think I’ve had enough medieval ambiance for one night.”
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.26">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.26]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Humble<</notify>>$V_name smiled softly, giving you a sidelong glance. “You’re not giving yourself enough credit. I’m sure you’d be a decent cook if you actually tried.”
You snorted. “Trust me, I’ve tried. It just never ends well. I think the kitchen and I have... irreconcilable differences.”
$V_name shook $V_hisher head, but there was a twinkle in $V_hisher eye. “I guess we both have our strengths elsewhere.”
The conversation flowed smoothly between you two, dipping into shared experiences and the occasional comments which earned a laugh from your suitemate. It felt calming: the simplicity of sharing a meal in a place that could otherwise feel overwhelming on your own. No heavy discussions, no overthinking. Just two people figuring things out as they went.
“I have to admit,” $V_name said after a moment, pushing $V_hisher plate away slightly. “This place is... intimidating. You know? The whole ‘dining like royalty’ thing? It’s kind of surreal.”
You nodded, leaning back in your chair and letting your gaze wander over the vaulted ceilings and stained-glass windows. “Yeah, it’s definitely not the kind of place you picture when you think of ‘dining hall.’ It feels more like we’re about to witness a medieval feast or something.”
$V_name grinned. “Complete with jesters and a roast pig.”
You chuckled, shaking your head. “Right? All we’re missing is the king at the head of the table, making decrees about who gets the last slice of cake.”
After a while, the plates were empty, and the dining hall seemed even quieter than before. You glanced at your phone, then at $V_name. “We should probably get going before we end up stuck here for the night.”
$V_HeShe stood up, gathering $V_hisher tray and giving you a nod. “Yeah, good call. I think I’ve had enough medieval ambiance for one night.”
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.26">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.26]]*/As you both made your way toward the exit, the dining hall was left in the background, replaced by the soft sounds of your footsteps and the low hum of conversation still echoing behind you. There was a shared sense of relief as you reached the stairs and started making your way to your floor.
After entering your shared suite, $V_name gave you a warm smile, genuine in the way $V_heshe looked at you.
“This was fun,” $V_heshe said, a little more shyly than $V_heshe probably intended. “We should do it again sometime. Maybe next time... we’ll actually try cooking.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “Maybe. But let’s keep the fire extinguisher nearby, just in case.”
$V_name laughed with you, the sound easy and bright. “Deal.”
<<if $outfitselection is "V">><<button "Next" "Ch 3.26 extra">><</button>><<else>><<button "Next" "Ch 3.27">><</button>><</if>>
/*[[Ch 3.26 extra]] [[Ch 3.27]]*/Before you entered your room, you suddenly remembered the formal dinner tomorrow night and turned back toward $V_name. “Hey, before you go, I almost forgot—what are your plans for tomorrow’s dinner? The formal one which they’re throwing here?”
$V_name hesitated, looking down for a moment, as if weighing how much to say. After a beat, $V_heshe glanced up, a slight frown tugging at the corners of $V_hisher mouth. “Actually… I won’t be here tomorrow. My moms are flying in.”
You raised an eyebrow, trying to hide that you were disheartened to hear that. “Oh. Why?”
$V_name rubbed the back of $V_hisher neck awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable. “They… uh, they heard about what happened with my medication running out—the whole schizophrenic psychosis episode—and they freaked out. They just want to check up on me, make sure everything’s okay.” $V_HeShe offered a small, apologetic smile. “They’re staying overnight in an Airbnb, so I’ll be with them after lunch tomorrow. They’ve already spoken to the dean, so I’ve got permission.”
“Oh,” you murmured, nodding slowly. A small knot of disappointment formed in your chest, tightening with each second. You forced a smile, though, trying not to let it show. “I was kind of looking forward to seeing you at the dinner. It’s going to feel weird without you there.”
$V_name gave you a sympathetic look. “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to miss it either, but… you know how it is.”
You sighed, glancing down at your shoes before looking back at $V_himher. “It’s fine, really. It’s just…” You hesitated, feeling a bit silly for bringing it up, but the worry was there. “I don’t even have formalwear ready for it. I didn’t realize it was such a big deal until now, and… well, it’s the first formal dinner in Blackthorne Hall, you know? It’s a lot of pressure.”
$V_name smiled warmly, the earlier uncertainty in $V_hisher face easing. “Well, you’re in luck. Since I’m leaving after lunch, we’ll have time to go look for something in the morning. We can find a place nearby on Google Maps that sells formalwear. We can make sure you’re sorted before I head out.”
The relief washed over you, the tightness in your chest loosening as you smiled back. “That would be great, actually. Thanks, I appreciate it.”
“No problem,” $V_name replied, flashing a reassuring grin. “I wouldn’t leave you hanging for something like this.”
You gave a soft laugh, grateful for the offer. “Good. Because I need a second opinion.”
$V_name chuckled, shaking $V_hisher head. “You’ll be fine. We’ll figure it out together.”
You nodded, feeling a little lighter. “Alright. Well, goodnight then. See you in the morning?”
“Yeah, see you in the morning,” $V_name replied with a soft smile, watching you for a moment before turning and heading toward $V_hisher room.
You stood there for a moment longer, the cool air drifting through the hallway, before you turned and finally stepped into your own room. There was still a faint sense of unease lingering in the back of your mind, but the thought of tomorrow—shopping with $V_name, the dinner, the chance to make it through the night in one piece—somehow made it all seem manageable.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.27">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.27]]*/Sometimes, when you looked into the mirror, your reflection smiled back.
Not just any smile, but one that pulled at the corners of your mouth in a wide unnatural grin, revealing jaggedly sharp teeth that didn’t belong in a human mouth. Dark veins spidered out from beneath your skin, your face a roadmap of something sinister, pulsating and black. Pitch-black eyes with a yellow horizontal iris resembling a goat’s, stared back at you, unblinking. The other you—this other thing—tilted its head, a mockery of curiosity, a taunt that felt just a little too real. It felt as though the mirror was alive, that if you stared too long, it might reach out and drag you inside.
But then, you would blink, and the stranger would be gone.
And it would just be you again. Shaking, sunken-eyed, and perpetually disheveled.
You unlocked your phone. <strong>8:35 a.m</strong>.
The time didn’t matter, not really. It wasn’t as if you’d slept enough for it to feel like morning. The night had been long and full of distorted dreams you couldn’t quite remember, only the aftermath lingering—the restlessness, the exhaustion that seeped into your bones.
A deep breath, shaky, and you dropped your phone onto the granite countertop. Your hands were already gripping the edges of the sink before you could stop yourself, spine bent and fingers trembling. You blinked again, as if trying to shake the image from your mind.
But the blood was still there, dried in dark streaks just under your nose. You hadn’t noticed it at first, not until you’d seen it in the mirror. The nosebleeds had started up again. Longer this time. More violent. The crimson red was smeared on your upper lip, the taste of iron sharp on your tongue. You had given up trying to stop them hours ago, and it seemed the blood had given up too, though not without leaving its mark.
It was almost like the blood was sentient. Like it knew your secrets, knew the things you couldn’t even remember you did, choosing to claim its revenge in the middle of the night or early morning when you were all but defenseless.
You turned on the faucet, cold water stinging your fingers, but you welcomed the sensation. The sharp contrast to the numbness that usually settled into your limbs. You wet the washcloth, the fabric rough against your skin as you pressed it to your face. You knew it might leave a mark, but you didn’t care. The marks always faded. Always.
The cold water bit at your skin as you dragged the cloth across your upper lip, wiping away the remnants of the blood. The roughness of the washcloth almost felt like penance, a necessary sting for the mess you had become.
You pressed the cloth to your nose again, but this time, more blood came. It slid down, dripping in a slow but steady line to your lips.
Instinctively, you licked them. The taste of blood was sharp, metallic, and you cringed the moment you realized what you’d done.
*[[You froze, staring at yourself in the mirror, wondering if maybe you should call someone—anyone—before this got worse.|Ch 3.28][$Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious + 3, 0, 100), $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive - 3, 0, 100), $option to 1]]
*[[What difference did it make? Blood was blood. You’d tasted it before; this was just a part of the mess you were living in.|Ch 3.28][$Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic + 3, 0, 100), $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional - 3, 0, 100), $option to 2]]
*[[You could feel it now, something crawling under your skin. Something wasn’t right, something you couldn’t fix or clean up with a washcloth.|Ch 3.28][$Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist + 3, 0, 100), $Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist - 3, 0, 100), $option to 3]]
*[[It would stop like it always does. You’d just clean up, get through this, and it would be okay. Eventually, everything would go back to normal.|Ch 3.28][$Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist + 3, 0, 100), $Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist - 3, 0, 100), $option to 4]]
*[[Your chest ached, your heart heavy with things you couldn’t say aloud. How long had it been since you felt like yourself?|Ch 3.28][$Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional + 3, 0, 100), $Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic - 3, 0, 100), $option to 5]]
*[[Without thinking, you threw the washcloth into the trash, as if getting rid of it might cleanse more than just the blood. As if it might cleanse you.|Ch 3.28][$Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100), $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100), $option to 6]]<<if $option is 1>><<notify 5s>>+ Cautious<</notify>>
<<elseif $option is 2>><<notify 5s>>+ Pragmatic<</notify>>
<<elseif $option is 3>><<notify 5s>>+ Pessimist<</notify>>
<<elseif $option is 4>><<notify 5s>>+ Optimist<</notify>>
<<elseif $option is 5>><<notify 5s>>+ Emotional<</notify>>
<<elseif $option is 6>><<notify 5s>>+ Impulsive<</notify>><</if>><<unset $option>>Giving up, you let the blood continue to pour.
You watched the steady drip of red, like it was an inevitable leak from some unseen crack inside you—one that no amount of pressure could seal. You grabbed a bunch of Kleenex but the more you pressed them to your nose, the faster the blood came, until the tissues were soaked through, your fingers stained. It was unstoppable. Like a spider that had crawled under your skin, hatching hundreds of eggs, offspring which soon spread to every nook and cranny of your body, infiltrating your bloodstream, eating away at your bones, feasting on your insides.
You couldn't stop it. <em>You couldn't stop <strong>it</strong>.</em>
It reminded you of the first time it happened when you were seven. How sudden it was. You had been at school, sitting in class, half-listening to a lesson on something you can’t even remember now—when the blood came. No warning, no headache, no dizziness. Just the taste of copper filling your mouth and the shock of red staining your white Scooby-Doo shirt. It didn’t stop. The school nurse had stuffed tissues into your hand, muttering something about dry air and how common nosebleeds were for kids your age, but it hadn’t felt common. It had felt endless, the blood pouring out like it was trying to drain something deeper from you, like it wanted to empty you completely.
Your father was called, and you remember the look on his face when he saw you, pallid and still bleeding even after an hour. It was one of the few times you’d seen him scared, though he tried to hide it, tried to laugh it off with some comment about how his nose used to bleed too. But it didn’t stop after that day. It became a pattern. Unrelenting.
After your mother died, they got worse.
Elias became more concerned, more frantic, watching you with the kind of scrutiny that made you feel like you were unraveling right before his eyes. He’d drag you to doctor after doctor, specialists with cold hands and sterile offices, examining your blood, your sinuses, the inner workings of your body as if they could find the source. You remember the cancer scare—the way the word had hung in the air like smoke, strangulating. The way Elias had gone pale, how his hand had gripped your shoulder tighter than usual when they mentioned the possibility.
But in the end, there was no diagnosis, nothing concrete. The doctors had handed him a vague explanation wrapped in medical jargon. <em>Epistaxis</em>, a fancy word for nosebleeds. They’d thrown in phrases like <em>idiopathic</em> and <em>vascular fragility</em>, something about how there didn’t seem to be low hemoglobin levels or any indications of a deeper issue.
“It’s just how your body is," they’d said, their voices nonchalant, as though your blood wasn’t spilling out of you like a faucet someone had left running. “It happens sometimes. Could be stress-related, could be the environment. But your blood count’s normal. No sign of anemia."
You’d stared at them, wanting to scream. Normal. As if bleeding for hours on end could ever be considered normal.
Elias had been relieved, or at least he pretended to be. His grip on your shoulder had loosened, and he’d nodded at the doctor, thanking them for their time. He stopped taking you to specialists after that, as though the absence of a diagnosis was enough to convince him it wasn’t worth worrying about anymore. But you knew better.
Because the blood never stopped.
And it was worse in Providence. It always had been. Something about your mother’s house—the air, the ocean, the weight of her absence that you carried until you saw her again—it triggered them, brought the blood to the surface like it was being drawn out by invisible hands. You used to visit her in the summers after your parents got separated, and the nosebleeds would start almost immediately after you arrived.
But she had a way of making them less terrifying. She never panicked, never made you feel like something was wrong with you. She’d sit you down on the porch, her hands gentle as she tilted your head back, pressing a cool cloth to your nose. She’d hum softly, a song from either Queen or David Bowie that didn’t follow most of their original tune but always made you feel calmer. Like everything would be okay, even if it wasn’t.
“You’re just sensitive, my little <<hovertip '[<em>Greek</em>] pomegranate'>><em>ῥόα</em><</hovertip>>," she’d say, her voice warm like the sun setting over the water. “Your body’s too full of feeling, that’s all. Sometimes, it has to let a little out."
You never understood what she meant by that—too full of feeling—but it had sounded poetic at the time, like something only your mother could say and make sense of. She had always been that way, finding meaning in the things other people dismissed. And when she died, you realized how much you had taken that for granted. How much you missed her ability to make everything feel less heavy, less suffocating.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.29">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.29]]*/You press the tissues harder to your face now, remembering the way your mother’s hands had moved, the calm steadiness of her touch. But your hands aren’t steady. They’re shaking, trembling with a kind of fear you can’t even name anymore.
The blood continues to pour.
It always does.
You glance at the time on your phone again—<strong>8:42 a.m.</strong> The minutes feel heavy, dragging. You should call someone. Your father, maybe. But what would you say? <em>Hey, Dad, good morning. How are you? How is it going over there without me? I miss you. I also wanted to let you know that it’s happening again. The blood won’t stop. And I don’t know if I’m bleeding from my nose or somewhere deeper. I don’t know if I can stop it this time, Dad. I’m sorry.</em>
But you don’t call. Instead, you just stand there, letting the blood flow, letting the spider crawl deeper, weaving its web inside of you. You watch your reflection, waiting for the stranger to return.
<div id="centered">[[It didn’t. At least not again for today.|Ch 3.30]]</div>
After what felt like an eternity, the blood finally stopped. You wiped the last streaks of crimson from your upper lip and tossed the pile of tissues into the sink, stained beyond belief. Your phone’s clock read <strong>9:03 a.m.</strong>, and the dull throb behind your temples was a cruel reminder of how long you’d stood there, waiting for your body to stop betraying you. You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the residual tremble in your limbs, and headed to the shower to wash away the remnants of the ordeal.
The hot water burned against your skin, but the sting was grounding, a reminder that you were still here, still in control. You watched the water swirl down the drain, pinkish at first, then clear. Eventually, you stepped out, wrapping yourself in the towel as steam fogged the mirror. You refused to look into it again.
The room was still. Too still.
You needed to get out. You needed to <em>breathe</em>.
Once dressed, you grabbed a random jacket and slipped out of your dorm. Blackthorne Hall was quiet this time of morning as classes didn’t start till Friday, the winding corridors still asleep as very few students wanted to get up before noon, the towering walls bearing down on you as if they, too, held your secrets. Outside, the cool air hit your face, sharp and refreshing, the kind of morning cold that snapped you awake and made everything feel a little clearer as you left the campus.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.31">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.31]]*/You walked down Chapel Street, the buildings standing like old sentinels around you, Yale's presence looming in every corner. You didn’t have a particular destination in mind, but after a few blocks, the bright neon sign of a 24/7 diner—Yardley’s—caught your eye. You hadn’t eaten yet, and maybe food would help. Maybe the act of sitting somewhere else, anywhere else, would help clear your head. You pushed the door open, a small bell chiming above you as you entered.
The diner wasn’t busy, a few scattered patrons occupying booths, the occasional clink of coffee mugs against tables, the low hum of conversations barely above a whisper. The smell of grease and frying bacon hung in the air, mixing with the sweet scent of syrup from a nearby table where an older man was cutting into a stack of pancakes. The booths were faded and worn, the checkered linoleum floors scuffed from years of customers walking through, ordering pancakes at 2 a.m. or grabbing coffee before a long day at work. It was far from the polished elegance of Yale and Blackthorne Hall, but it was exactly what you needed right now—normalcy.
The waitress behind the counter looked up as you walked in, and for a moment, her eyes widened. It was that look you’d gotten used to—people noticing you, but not really seeing you. You were just an idea to them, something unattainable, an aesthetic. Attractive in the way a marble statue might be: cold, untouchable, distant. Her gaze lingered a little longer than normal, but you didn’t register it. You were too lost in the fog of your own thoughts.
You found a booth by the window and slid into it, the vinyl seat creaking slightly under your weight. Your fingers traced absent patterns into the tabletop. It was scratched and worn, the kind of surface that had seen a thousand different mornings, a thousand different people. It was strange how places like this could carry the weight of so many lives but remain unchanged.
When the waitress finally came over, she couldn’t have been older than nineteen. Maybe a sophomore on her part-time job? Her smile was bright, maybe a little too bright. “Good morning! What can I get for you today?”
You barely looked up, eyes still fixed on the faded menu tucked into the corner of the table:
<<message 'BREAKFAST ITEMS'>>\
*<<message 'Pancakes, with either maple syrup or fresh fruit. Eggs and bacon on the side if desired'>>\
*<<message 'With maple syrup'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfast" "pancakes with maple syrup, no eggs or bacon" autocheck>> No eggs or bacon</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfast" "pancakes with maple syrup and eggs" autocheck>> With eggs</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfast" "pancakes with maple syrup and bacon" autocheck>> With bacon</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfast" "pancakes with maple syrup, eggs, and bacon" autocheck>> With eggs and bacon</label>
<</message>>
*<<message 'With fresh fruit'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfast" "pancakes with fresh fruit, no eggs or bacon" autocheck>> No eggs or bacon</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfast" "pancakes with fresh fruit and eggs" autocheck>> With eggs</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfast" "pancakes with fresh fruit and bacon" autocheck>> With bacon</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfast" "pancakes with fresh fruit, eggs, and bacon" autocheck>> With eggs and bacon</label>
<</message>><</message>>
*<<message 'Scrambled eggs and hash browns, with toast or biscuits'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfast" "scrambled eggs and hash browns with toast" autocheck>> With toast</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfast" "scrambled eggs and hash browns with biscuits" autocheck>> With biscuits</label>
<</message>>
*<<message 'French toast with powdered sugar, bacon optional'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfast" "French toast with powdered sugar and bacon" autocheck>> With bacon</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfast" "French toast with powdered sugar" autocheck>> No bacon</label>
<</message>>
*<<message 'Oatmeal, plain or with berries and honey'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfast" "plain oatmeal" autocheck>> Plain</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfast" "oatmeal with berries" autocheck>> With berries</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfast" "oatmeal with honey" autocheck>> With honey</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfast" "oatmeal with berries and honey" autocheck>> With berries and honey</label>
<</message>>
*<<message 'Others'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfast" "avocado toast with a poached egg" autocheck>> Avocado toast with a poached egg</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfast" "fruit salad with a side of yogurt" autocheck>> Fruit salad with a side of yogurt</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfast" "Vegan breakfast wrap, filled with tofu scramble, black beans, and spinach" autocheck>> Vegan breakfast wrap, filled with tofu scramble, black beans, and spinach</label>
<</message>>
<</message>>
<<message 'BREAKFAST DRINKS'>>\
*<<message 'Freshly brewed coffee'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfastdrink" "regular freshly brewed coffee" autocheck>> Regular</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfastdrink" "decaf freshly brewed coffee" autocheck>> Decaf</label>
<</message>>
*<<message 'Iced coffee'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfastdrink" "iced coffee with cream" autocheck>> With cream</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfastdrink" "iced coffee without cream" autocheck>> Without cream</label>
<</message>>
*<<message 'Herbal tea'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfastdrink" "chamomile tea" autocheck>> Chamomile</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfastdrink" "peppermint tea" autocheck>> Peppermint</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfastdrink" "Earl Grey tea" autocheck>> Earl Grey</label>
<</message>>
*<<message 'Juice'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfastdrink" "freshly squeezed orange juice" autocheck>> Freshly squeezed orange juice</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfastdrink" "apple juice" autocheck>> Apple juice</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfastdrink" "cranberry juice" autocheck>> Cranberry juice</label>
<</message>>
*<<message 'Smoothies'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfastdrink" "mixed berries smoothie" autocheck>> Mixed berries</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfastdrink" "green detox smoothie" autocheck>> Green detox</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfastdrink" "tropical blend smoothie" autocheck>> Tropical blend</label>
<</message>>
*<<message 'Hot chocolate'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfastdrink" "hot chocolate with regular milk" autocheck>> Regular milk</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfastdrink" "hot chocolate with almond milk" autocheck>> Almond milk</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch3breakfastdrink" "hot chocolate with oat milk" autocheck>> Oat milk</label>
<</message>>
<</message>>
<<button "Next" "Ch 3.32">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 3.32]]*/<<if ($MC_ch3breakfast is "Unknown") or ($MC_ch3breakfastdrink is "Unknown")>>Please return to the previous page and ensure that you have selected a meal and a drink.<<else>>Your voice sounded distant to your own ears, like you were hearing someone else speak through a wall. She scribbled it down, her eyes flicking back to your face once, twice, before she nodded and walked away. You could feel the curiosity radiating off her, the slight tremor in her voice when she’d spoken. You just tried to ignore it for now.
As you waited, you let your gaze wander around the diner, taking in the familiarity of it. The walls were lined with old, faded photographs of New Haven from years past—black-and-white images of streets that looked mostly the same now, save for the cars and the fashion. The neon sign in the window buzzed faintly, flickering occasionally but never fully going out. It had that timeless quality all diners seem to have—bright lights, checkered floors, metal countertops. The kind of place that could’ve been plucked from any decade and dropped into this moment without much effort. There was a comfort in that, in the unchanging nature of it, like stepping into a place outside of time.
Your eyes eventually wandered to the people sitting at the other booths. A couple in their forties was sharing a quiet breakfast, their hands intertwined on the table as they spoke in low tones. Across from them, a group of construction workers, their neon vests piled up in the booth beside them, laughed about something, their voices louder but not disruptive. In the far corner, a young woman in scrubs was hunched over her phone, her face a mask of exhaustion, a coffee cup cradled between her hands. A group of high schoolers soon entered, dressed in that haphazard way that only people who don’t care about 8 a.m. classes and were looking forward to playing hooky could pull off. They were laughing, shoving each other, oblivious to anything outside their bubble.
You turned your attention to the window beside you, the glass fogged slightly with condensation. Beyond it, New Haven was awake. The streets, still damp from last night’s rain, glistened under the cloudy morning light. People moved along the sidewalks with purpose, bundled up against the cold, their faces half-hidden behind scarves and hats.
You watched them for a while—the joggers, the businesspeople with their briefcases, the college students with their parents in tow as they explored the sights. A woman pushed a stroller down the sidewalk, her pace brisk but steady, pausing briefly to check her phone. Across the street, a man in a suit stood by a coffee cart, impatiently tapping his foot as he waited for his order. The city had its own rhythm, its own heartbeat, and for a moment, you felt separate from it all, like you were watching it unfold from behind a TV screen, disconnected.
There was a strange comfort in the anonymity of it all, the way the city kept moving, indifferent to whatever was happening in your life. No one knew you here, not really. They didn’t know what you carried, didn’t know about the nosebleeds, or the way you sometimes saw things in the mirror that weren’t there. They didn’t know about the weight of your mother’s death, the way it had carved out a part of you that hadn’t healed quite right.
The waitress returned with your food and drink, setting it down in front of you with a small smile. You nodded in acknowledgment but didn’t say anything, wrapping your hands around the cup, letting the temperature seep into your skin. You took a sip and sighed in slight contentment. The food, when you finally started eating, tasted pretty good and homely, but even if it would’ve been bland, it wouldn’t really matter. It was sustenance. Something to fill the emptiness that had settled in your stomach since you woke up.
The waitress passed by again, her eyes darting toward you as if she wanted to ask if you were okay but didn’t know how. You ignored her, eyes fixed on the window. The sounds of the diner blended with the noise from outside—the hum of engines as cars passed by, the distant screech of a bus pulling to a stop, the murmur of voices as people went about their routines. For them, it was just another morning. Just another Wednesday, or whatever day it was. For you, it felt like something else entirely. Like you were caught in the space between things, waiting for something to break or shift or change.
But nothing did.
For a brief moment, you allowed yourself to imagine what it might be like to live a life as simple as the people you watched outside. To wake up, go to work, come home, and repeat. No ghosts. No blood. No cryptic dreams or visions in the mirror that left you shaken to your core. Just… regularity.
But that wasn’t your life. You don’t think it ever would be.
<<if $outfitselection is "V">><<button "Next" "V outfit selection">><</button>><<elseif $outfitselection is "M">><<button "Next" "M outfit selection">><</button>><<elseif $outfitselection is "C">><<button "Next" "C outfit selection">><</button>><<elseif $outfitselection is "D">><<button "Next" "D outfit selection">><</button>><</if>><</if>>
/*[[V outfit selection]] [[M outfit selection]] [[C outfit selection]] [[D outfit selection]]*/It was almost 10:00 a.m. when you unlocked your phone, the light flickering against your still-tired eyes. You scrolled through notifications absently, pausing when you saw the familiar GroupMe icon. The chat that you were recently added in for your floor was mostly dead this early in the morning, but it didn’t matter. You quickly found $V_name’s profile, the tiny avatar reminding you of the conversation you’d had the night before. Formalwear. Dinner. Somehow, it had slipped your mind until now.
With a sigh, you clicked on their profile to send a private message. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment, thinking of how to phrase it. The text was simple enough:
<img src="images/v text 1.png" width="100%"/>
You pressed send before you could overthink it.
Almost immediately, the reply came through:
<img src="images/v text 2.png" width="100%"/>
A second later, the familiar Google Maps link appeared, marking the spot near campus. The Velvet Stitch—the reviews looked good enough. It sounded fancy, like something out of an old novel. You weren’t exactly sure what you were expecting, but it seemed fitting for what you needed.
<img src="images/v text 3.png" width="100%"/>
You pocketed your phone and grabbed your jacket.
You quickly ordered a coffee to-go for $V_name and stepped outside into the brisk autumn morning, the chill biting at your cheeks.
You kept your head down as you walked, but even then, you could feel the way people’s eyes flicked to you, lingering longer than they probably intended. It was always like this—like you were something otherworldly dropped into the middle of their perfectly ordinary mornings.
A group of college students passed by, their conversation stuttering as they glanced your way, and you didn’t miss the way one of them looked back a second time, nudging their friend.
*[[You took a moment to send them a wink, leaving them a flushed mess as you laughed and kept walking.|V outfit 1][$Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100), $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100), $option to 1]]
*[[Your cheeks darkened. Without your thoughts to distract you, the stares felt more pressing than not.|V outfit 1][$Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100), $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100), $option to 2]]
*[[You tried to ignore them, looking straight ahead and not stopping.|V outfit 1][$Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100), $option to 3]]It was almost 10:00 a.m. when you unlocked your phone, the light flickering against your still-tired eyes. You scrolled through notifications absently, pausing when you saw the familiar GroupMe icon. The chat that you were recently added in for your floor was mostly dead this early in the morning, but it didn’t matter. You quickly found $M_name’s profile, the tiny avatar reminding you of the conversation you’d had the day before. Formalwear. Dinner. Somehow, it had slipped your mind to ask $M_name about it until now.
Without much hesitation, you typed out a message:
<img src="images/m text 1.png" width="100%"/>
The reply came quickly, as if $M_heshe had already been awake, or perhaps had been waiting for something to do.
<img src="images/m text 2.png" width="100%"/>
You exhaled, feeling a small sense of relief. You were surprised, of course, $M_name didn’t seem to be the type to prefer a free schedule. But you were not going to question your luck right now. You quickly typed back:
<img src="images/m text 3.png" width="100%"/>
There was a pause, just long enough for you to wonder if you had inconvenienced $M_himher, before the reply appeared on your screen.
<img src="images/m text 4.png" width="100%"/>
That felt like a gentle reminder of your first encounter with your suitemate, something $M_name clearly had no problem acknowledging, even if it made you cringe slightly.
You quickly typed another message, trying to keep the conversation moving.
<img src="images/m text 5.png" width="100%"/>
There was no hesitation this time.
<img src="images/m text 6.png" width="100%"/>
You blinked at the efficiency of it, the way $M_name had already decided where this morning was going before $M_heshe had even left the campus. It was oddly… comforting in a way—knowing that you could rely on $M_himher to take charge when you couldn’t be bothered to plan every detail.
<<button "Next" "M outfit 1">><</button>>
/*[[M outfit 1]]*/It was almost 10:00 a.m. when you unlocked your phone, the light flickering against your still-tired eyes. You scrolled through your contacts absently, pausing when you saw the familiar contact name: $C_name Lacroix.
For a moment, you hovered there, thumb paused, considering whether to send the message. After all, $C_heshe had offered to help with the formalwear shopping yesterday, even if the offer had come with a healthy dose of begrudging energy. You couldn’t show up to the dinner in whatever you happened to pull out of your closet last-minute. May this be a lesson in preparing for everything when you’re back next semester.
You tapped out a quick text:
<img src="images/c text 1.png" width="100%"/>
You barely had time to toss your phone on the table before it buzzed, $C_hisher reply coming almost too quickly:
<img src="images/c text 2.png" width="100%"/>
You rolled your eyes at the response. Snarky, of course, but at least it was a yes.
<img src="images/c text 3.png" width="100%"/>
Within seconds, you received a pinned location followed by a characteristically sharp:
<img src="images/c text 4.png" width="100%"/>
A sigh slipped out before you could stop it as you pocketed your phone and stood up, shrugging on your jacket and heading to the counter to pay and leave.
<<button "Next" "C outfit 1">><</button>>
/*[[C outfit 1]]*/It was almost 10:00 a.m. when you unlocked your phone, the dim light flickering against your still-tired eyes. You blinked, squinting at the brightness as the faint buzz of your phone pulled you out of your grogginess. You tapped on the message icon, noting that it was from $D_name.
<img src="images/d text 1.png" width="100%"/>
You stared at the screen for a second, trying to shake the morning haze from your mind. A party. Right, you had promised to go. And the theme? How the hell were you going to find an outfit on such short notice? You rubbed a hand over your face, typing out a quick response.
<img src="images/d text 2.png" width="100%"/>
Not even a full second passed before another buzz hit your phone.
<img src="images/d text 3.png" width="100%"/>
You couldn’t help but smile faintly at that, shaking your head. Before you had the chance to process how $D_name had a way of making you feel like the two of you were on the same wavelength even before you'd said anything, there’s another buzz.
<img src="images/d text 4.png" width="100%"/>
A sigh escaped you as you typed back.
<img src="images/d text 5.png" width="100%"/>
You could practically see $D_name nodding $D_hisher head in understanding on the other end of the phone. It didn’t take long for the next message to pop up.
<<if $D_gender is "female">><img src="images/d text 6.png" width="100%"/><<else>><img src="images/d text 7.png" width="100%"/><</if>>
You hesitated, fingers hovering over the screen. Letting $D_name help you pick out a costume felt... well, you weren’t quite sure what it felt like. There was something more vulnerable about sharing your space with someone, even if it came to something as simple as a horror-themed party. Still, it would be nice not to go through the stress of costume planning alone. Plus, you can’t exactly get through four years of college with no friends hanging out with you in your room and vice versa.
After a beat, you typed back.
<img src="images/d text 8.png" width="100%"/>
There it was. Your phone buzzed one last time.
<img src="images/d text 9.png" width="100%"/>
After finishing your breakfast, you tossed some cash onto the table as you gathered your jacket, taking one last sip of your drink before standing up to leave. The slight chill of August air greeted you as you stepped outside, making you pull your jacket a little tighter around your body. The wind had picked up, carrying the scent of fallen leaves and the faint hum of distant traffic.
The walk back to your dorm was fairly quick as you were thinking too much about the party and the outfit you’d wear. As far as you’d seen based on research, SigChi parties were notorious for going all out with their themes. They also didn’t care who showed up as long as they were being chill and didn’t start any trouble. You knew people wouldn’t just be showing up in cheap costumes—they’d be pulling out all the stops, and you couldn’t afford to be shown up.
At least $D_name had offered to help. You tried to picture what $D_heshe’d pick out—something bold, probably, but with that signature flair of $D_hisher. $D_HeShe did not seem to be someone to do anything halfway, and you suspected that would extend to whatever costume $D_heshe would think for you later.
<<button "Next" "D outfit 1">><</button>>
/*[[D outfit 1]]*/<<if $option is 1>><<notify 5s>>+ Bold<</notify>>
<<elseif $option is 2>><<notify 5s>>+ Shy<</notify>>
<<elseif $option is 3>><<notify 5s>>+ Aloof<</notify>><</if>><<unset $option>>The streets of New Haven were lined with tall, brick buildings, their architecture ancient yet still timeless, with windows that reflected the morning sun in golden patches. The air was cool, but not unpleasant—just sharp enough to make you breathe a little deeper, the scent of coffee and rain lingering in the breeze. Shops dotted the sidewalks, their windows filled with eclectic displays: vintage records, obscure books, overpriced Yale merch.
A few minutes later, you reached Crown Street. The store $V_name had mentioned stood at the corner, its wide windows revealing rows of polished mannequins dressed in sleek, tailored suits and dresses. It had that look of quiet luxury—the kind of place where you could tell just by looking at it that everything inside was way too expensive but somehow worth every penny.
You spotted $V_name before you reached the door, standing just outside, $V_hisher back to you as $V_heshe checked $V_hisher phone. You hesitated for a second, watching $V_himher. Even from behind, there was something gentle about the way $V_heshe held $V_himself, like $V_heshe didn’t quite fit into $V_hisher own skin but had learned to navigate the world anyway. $V_HeShe was dressed casually, a simple brown jacket, a beige sweater, and dark blue jeans—there was an understated softness to $V_himher that seemed almost unintentional.
Before $V_heshe noticed you, you cleared your throat, stepping up beside $V_himher.
“Got you a coffee,” you said, holding out the cup as $V_heshe turned to face you.
$V_name blinked in surprise, a small smile tugging at the corners of $V_hisher lips as $V_heshe took it from you.
“Oh, thanks,” $V_heshe said, voice as warm as $V_hisher doe-like brown eyes. It made you feel lighter, like you hadn’t just been drifting through the morning.
“Figured I owed you,” you added, glancing at the store behind $V_name. “For, you know, helping me not look like a complete idiot at the dinner.”
$V_HeShe laughed, shaking $V_hisher head. “You don’t owe me anything. But I’m glad to help. Besides, this place is supposed to be good.” $V_HeShe gestured to the shop with $V_hisher coffee cup. “We should find something decent for you in here.”
You followed $V_himher inside, the faint chime of a bell announcing your arrival. The shop was quiet, the sort of place where the air seemed to hum with exclusivity. You could tell right away that the clothes here weren’t just garments—they were statements, carefully curated and meant to be noticed.
*[[“This place looks promising,” you said, your voice light, trying to focus on the upside of the situation. “Thanks for suggesting it.”|V outfit 2.1][$Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist + 3, 0, 100), $Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist - 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100), $V_friendship to $V_friendship+5]]
*<<link '“Supposed to be good, huh?” you muttered, glancing around at the overly pristine displays. “Well, at least I’ll look like a <em>hot</em> mess this time.”' "V outfit 2.2">><<set $Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist + 3, 0, 100); $Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist - 3, 0, 100); $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100); $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100); $V_friendship to $V_friendship+4>><</link>>/*[[V outfit 2.2]]*/
*[[“Wow. Really subtle,” you remarked, eyeing the mannequins in their tailored outfits like they were auditioning for a Vogue cover shoot.|V outfit 2.3][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100), $V_friendship to $V_friendship+4]]
*[[You smirked, looking around as you crossed your arms. “Honestly? I could probably make anything here look good.”|V outfit 2.4][$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100), $Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist + 3, 0, 100), $Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist - 3, 0, 100), $V_friendship to $V_friendship+2]]
*[[“I don’t know how you’d do this,” you said, laughing lightly. “I’d probably just pick the first thing that didn’t make me look like a total mess.”|V outfit 2.5][$Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100), $V_friendship to $V_friendship+5]]<<notify 5s>>+ Optimist, + Friendly<</notify>>$V_name glanced at you, a flicker of surprise in $V_hisher eyes at your upbeat tone.
“Yeah, well, I figure you deserve to look good,” $V_heshe said with a small smile, leading the way to a rack filled with different types of formal outfits. “Not that you don’t already, of course.”
You chuckled softly, feeling a little less out of place than you expected. “I don’t know. You should’ve seen me earlier. I looked like I crawled out of bed and straight into a ditch.”
$V_HeShe laughed again, shaking $V_hisher head. “I doubt it was that bad.”
You shrugged, flipping through the clothes. “Well, I’ve got you to fix it now, so I guess I’m in good hands.”
There was a lightness to the exchange that felt… comfortable. Easy. You didn’t realize how much you needed that until you were here, standing next to $V_himher, the world outside feeling distant and unimportant for once. Maybe today could be better than you thought.
$V_name helped you sift through the racks of the store, picking out a few pieces as you both walked along the rows. The shop offered a range of formalwear—each more striking than the last—catering to every taste, style, and identity:
*[[Classic Black Tuxedo with Velvet Lapel|V outfit 3][$formalwear to "Classic Black Tuxedo with Velvet Lapel", $clothes to "tux"]]
*[[Midnight Navy Suit with a Slim Fit|V outfit 3][$formalwear to "Midnight Navy Suit with a Slim Fit", $clothes to "suit"]]
*[[Satin Midnight Blue Gown with a Plunging Neckline|V outfit 3][$formalwear to "Satin Midnight Blue Gown with a Plunging Neckline", $clothes to "gown"]]
*[[Crimson Red Off-Shoulder Dress with a Cinched Waist|V outfit 3][$formalwear to "Crimson Red Off-Shoulder Dress with a Cinched Waist", $clothes to "dress"]]
*[[Dark Green Velvet Suit with Cropped Trousers|V outfit 3][$formalwear to "Dark Green Velvet Suit with Cropped Trousers", $clothes to "suit"]]
*[[Black Double-Breasted Blazer with Wide Leg Trousers|V outfit 3][$formalwear to "Black Double-Breasted Blazer with Wide Leg Trousers", $clothes to "blazer"]]<<notify 5s>>+ Pessimist, + Uptight<</notify>>$V_name looked over at you, a flicker of concern crossing $V_hisher face. “Everything okay?” $V_heshe asked carefully, as if sensing there was more under the surface.
You waved it off, forcing a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, just… formalwear. It feels like overkill.”
$V_HeShe hesitated but nodded. “I get it. Sometimes these things can feel a little... performative. But hey, it doesn’t hurt to show up looking like you’ve got it all together, right?”
You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. “Maybe. I guess I’m just not sure it matters, you know? What does it change?”
$V_HeShe handed you a jacket, $V_hisher expression softening. “You’d be surprised. Sometimes it’s not about changing anything. It’s about reminding yourself you can handle it, whatever it is.”
You looked down at your jacket in your hands, the weight of it somehow heavier than just fabric. “I hope you’re right.”
$V_name helped you sift through the racks of the store, picking out a few pieces as you both walked along the rows. The shop offered a range of formalwear—each more striking than the last—catering to every taste, style, and identity:
*[[Classic Black Tuxedo with Velvet Lapel|V outfit 3][$formalwear to "Classic Black Tuxedo with Velvet Lapel"]]
*[[Midnight Navy Suit with a Slim Fit|V outfit 3][$formalwear to "Midnight Navy Suit with a Slim Fit"]]
*[[Satin Midnight Blue Gown with a Plunging Neckline|V outfit 3][$formalwear to "Satin Midnight Blue Gown with a Plunging Neckline"]]
*[[Crimson Red Off-Shoulder Dress with a Cinched Waist|V outfit 3][$formalwear to "Crimson Red Off-Shoulder Dress with a Cinched Waist"]]
*[[Dark Green Velvet Suit with Cropped Trousers|V outfit 3][$formalwear to "Dark Green Velvet Suit with Cropped Trousers"]]
*[[Black Double-Breasted Blazer with Wide Leg Trousers|V outfit 3][$formalwear to "Black Double-Breasted Blazer with Wide Leg Trousers"]]<<notify 5s>>+ Sarcastic, + Aloof<</notify>>You eyed the mannequins in their tailored outfits like they were auditioning for a Vogue cover shoot.
$V_name grinned, clearly amused. “You wanted formal, didn’t you?”
You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, but I didn’t think I was signing up for ‘Most Likely to be Mistaken for a Red Carpet Celebrity at Cannes.’”
$V_HeShe laughed, holding up a sleek, charcoal-colored outfit. “You’d pull it off, though. Admit it.”
You eyed it, then glanced at $V_himher. “Are we sure? I feel like I’d look like an imposter. Like I should be handing out business cards that say ‘Fake it ‘til you make it.’”
$V_HeShe shook $V_hisher head, still smiling as $V_heshe handed you the jacket. “You’re a smartass, you know that?”
You shrugged, taking the outfit. “I’ve been told worse.”
But as much as you tried to keep the sarcasm rolling, there was something reassuring about the way $V_name handled it—like $V_heshe didn’t need you to take this too seriously, didn’t expect you to be anything other than who you were. That thought, at least, kept the smirk from completely disappearing from your face.
$V_name helped you sift through the racks of the store, picking out a few pieces as you both walked along the rows. The shop offered a range of formalwear—each more striking than the last—catering to every taste, style, and identity:
*[[Classic Black Tuxedo with Velvet Lapel|V outfit 3][$formalwear to "Classic Black Tuxedo with Velvet Lapel"]]
*[[Midnight Navy Suit with a Slim Fit|V outfit 3][$formalwear to "Midnight Navy Suit with a Slim Fit"]]
*[[Satin Midnight Blue Gown with a Plunging Neckline|V outfit 3][$formalwear to "Satin Midnight Blue Gown with a Plunging Neckline"]]
*[[Crimson Red Off-Shoulder Dress with a Cinched Waist|V outfit 3][$formalwear to "Crimson Red Off-Shoulder Dress with a Cinched Waist"]]
*[[Dark Green Velvet Suit with Cropped Trousers|V outfit 3][$formalwear to "Dark Green Velvet Suit with Cropped Trousers"]]
*[[Black Double-Breasted Blazer with Wide Leg Trousers|V outfit 3][$formalwear to "Black Double-Breasted Blazer with Wide Leg Trousers"]]<<notify 5s>>+ Arrogant, + Optimist<</notify>>$V_name chuckled, clearly not fazed by your arrogance.
“I don’t doubt it,” $V_heshe said, $V_hisher voice calm. “But maybe we can find something that does more than just look good on you.”
You raised an eyebrow. “You saying I need help, Næsholm?”
$V_HeShe met your gaze, unbothered, maybe even amused. “I’m saying we can make you look even better.”
You paused for a moment, considering the challenge in $V_hisher words. You were used to people flattering you, bending over backward to please you, but $V_name? $V_HeShe was one of the odd ones. $V_HeShe wasn’t feeding into your ego, and for some reason, that made you want to play along.
“Well,” you said, tilting your head as you scanned the outfits with a newfound interest. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to try. But don’t get too attached to this ‘helping me’ thing. I’m not exactly someone who needs it.”
$V_HeShe smiled softly, shaking $V_hisher head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
$V_name helped you sift through the racks of the store, picking out a few pieces as you both walked along the rows. The shop offered a range of formalwear—each more striking than the last—catering to every taste, style, and identity:
*[[Classic Black Tuxedo with Velvet Lapel|V outfit 3][$formalwear to "Classic Black Tuxedo with Velvet Lapel"]]
*[[Midnight Navy Suit with a Slim Fit|V outfit 3][$formalwear to "Midnight Navy Suit with a Slim Fit"]]
*[[Satin Midnight Blue Gown with a Plunging Neckline|V outfit 3][$formalwear to "Satin Midnight Blue Gown with a Plunging Neckline"]]
*[[Crimson Red Off-Shoulder Dress with a Cinched Waist|V outfit 3][$formalwear to "Crimson Red Off-Shoulder Dress with a Cinched Waist"]]
*[[Dark Green Velvet Suit with Cropped Trousers|V outfit 3][$formalwear to "Dark Green Velvet Suit with Cropped Trousers"]]
*[[Black Double-Breasted Blazer with Wide Leg Trousers|V outfit 3][$formalwear to "Black Double-Breasted Blazer with Wide Leg Trousers"]]<<notify 5s>>+ Laidback, + Humble<</notify>>$V_name chuckled, shaking $V_hisher head. “It’s not that hard. You’ve just gotta trust me, and we’ll find something that works.”
“Yeah, well, if I’m leaving this in anyone’s hands, it’s yours,” you teased, though there was a layer of sincerity beneath your words. You didn’t trust a lot of people with stuff like this, but $V_name? For some reason you’d trust $V_himher with a lot more.
$V_HeShe smiled at that, passing you a blazer with a careful eye. “You’ll be fine. Besides, you’re not exactly hard to work with. You’ve got the looks; I just need to fine-tune them.”
You smirked. “Fine-tune, huh? Should I be offended?”
“Not at all,” $V_heshe grinned. “I’m just helping you reach your full potential.”
You couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright, fine. I’m sold. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
$V_name helped you sift through the racks of the store, picking out a few pieces as you both walked along the rows. The shop offered a range of formalwear—each more striking than the last—catering to every taste, style, and identity:
*[[Classic Black Tuxedo with Velvet Lapel|V outfit 3][$formalwear to "Classic Black Tuxedo with Velvet Lapel"]]
*[[Midnight Navy Suit with a Slim Fit|V outfit 3][$formalwear to "Midnight Navy Suit with a Slim Fit"]]
*[[Satin Midnight Blue Gown with a Plunging Neckline|V outfit 3][$formalwear to "Satin Midnight Blue Gown with a Plunging Neckline"]]
*[[Crimson Red Off-Shoulder Dress with a Cinched Waist|V outfit 3][$formalwear to "Crimson Red Off-Shoulder Dress with a Cinched Waist"]]
*[[Dark Green Velvet Suit with Cropped Trousers|V outfit 3][$formalwear to "Dark Green Velvet Suit with Cropped Trousers"]]
*[[Black Double-Breasted Blazer with Wide Leg Trousers|V outfit 3][$formalwear to "Black Double-Breasted Blazer with Wide Leg Trousers"]]<<if $formalwear is "Classic Black Tuxedo with Velvet Lapel">>You step out in a timeless black tuxedo, tailored to perfection with sleek velvet lapels that catch the light just right. The crisp white dress shirt beneath contrasts sharply, anchored by a black bow tie that gives the whole ensemble a polished, traditional feel. As you adjust the cufflinks and straighten your jacket, the polished black oxfords glisten under the shop’s soft lighting, adding to the air of sophistication.<<elseif $formalwear is "Midnight Navy Suit with a Slim Fit">>You emerge in a deep navy slim-fit suit that feels like a modern twist on the classic. The satin lapels shimmer subtly, paired with a charcoal gray dress shirt left open at the collar, giving the outfit a relaxed yet sharp vibe. No tie this time, just effortless cool, paired with black loafers that keep it grounded. The slim silhouette of the suit hugs you just right, contemporary and chic but still maintaining a formal edge.<<elseif $formalwear is "Satin Midnight Blue Gown with a Plunging Neckline">>The shimmering satin gown drapes across your figure like liquid gold. Its plunging neckline and spaghetti straps accentuate a bold elegance, while the high slit up the leg offers a daring touch. As you glide across the room, the fabric catches the light with every movement, each step accentuated by the click of silver stiletto heels. Paired with a sleek clutch, this gown is a statement—sophisticated and glamorous without being over the top, designed to turn heads.<<elseif $formalwear is "Crimson Red Off-Shoulder Dress with a Cinched Waist">>The off-the-shoulder red dress hugs your figure in all the right places, the fitted bodice cinching your waist before cascading into a flowing, floor-length skirt. There’s a confidence in the way it moves with you, effortlessly elegant yet commanding. Black strappy heels add a touch of sleekness, and the whole look is elevated by a sophisticated updo that shows off your neckline.<<elseif $formalwear is "Dark Green Velvet Suit with Cropped Trousers">>The velvet suit is a masterclass in subtle rebellion, blurring the lines of masculine and feminine with its fitted blazer and slightly cropped trousers. The deep green hue feels luxurious, understated yet rich, while the black silk turtleneck underneath keeps it minimalist, almost mysterious. The patent leather loafers shine, grounding the outfit in quiet confidence.<<elseif $formalwear is "Black Double-Breasted Blazer with Wide Leg Trousers">>A structured black double-breasted blazer with gold buttons commands attention. The wide-leg trousers are tailored to perfection, adding both fluidity and strength to the silhouette, shifting effortlessly between masculine and feminine aesthetics. Beneath the blazer, a crisp white shirt provides a sharp contrast, and the ankle boots give the entire ensemble a refined edge.<</if>>
$V_name was sitting on a nearby leather chair, nose buried in $V_hisher phone. As you approached, $V_heshe looked up—and froze.
For a moment, $V_name just stared, lips parted like $V_heshe was about to say something but forgot the words. You shifted awkwardly, running a hand over your arm as you looked at yourself in the mirror again, turning slightly to catch different angles.
“So?” you asked, glancing over at $V_himher. “How do I look?”
$V_name’s face seemed to flush almost instantly. $V_HisHer mouth opened, then closed again, then opened, a quiet sound escaping before $V_heshe quickly clamped $V_hisher lips shut. Finally, after a few seconds, $V_heshe managed to squeak out, “You… you look... really good.”
You raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced by the hesitation in $V_hisher voice. “Just ‘really good?’”
“No, I mean—you look—wow.” $V_name’s eyes widened, as if realizing the understatement of $V_hisher response. “I just—it’s—wow, okay.” $V_HeShe ran a hand through $V_hisher short/long curls, looking like $V_heshe wanted to sink into the chair and disappear. “You look, like, really good. Like, better than I thought you would? Not that I didn’t think you’d look good! I just, I mean, you’re always—you’re already attractive, obviously, but now you’re like... extra attractive. Which is, um, a lot. For me. Right now.”
*<<link '$V_HisHer voice trailed off, and you couldn’t help but smirk a little. “Extra attractive, huh?” [♥︎]' "V outfit 4.1">><<set $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100); $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100); $V_romance to $V_romance+1>><</link>>/*[[V outfit 4.1]]*/
*[[“Oh,” you said simply, feeling your face get unbearably hot. [♥︎]|V outfit 4.2][$Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100), $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100), $V_romance to $V_romance+1]]
*[[You clear your throat, trying to suppress the sudden warmth you were feeling. [♥︎]|V outfit 4.3][$V_romance to $V_romance+1, $V_oblivious to 1]]<<notify 5s>>+ Bold<</notify>><<if $formalwear is "Classic Black Tuxedo with Velvet Lapel">>$V_name’s eyes darted everywhere but at you. “Yeah. Like, the tux is... really working for you. It’s… you know, it’s got that tailored thing going on, and the color’s perfect with your skin tone, and the fit is... yeah. It’s... it’s doing something.”<<elseif $formalwear is "Midnight Navy Suit with a Slim Fit">>$V_name’s eyes darted everywhere but at you. “Yeah. Like, the suit is... really working for you. It’s… you know, it’s got that tailored thing going on, and the color’s perfect with your skin tone, and the fit is... yeah. It’s... it’s doing something.”<<elseif $formalwear is "Satin Midnight Blue Gown with a Plunging Neckline">>$V_name’s eyes darted everywhere but at you. “Yeah. Like, the gown is... really working for you. It’s… you know, it’s got that tailored thing going on, and the color’s perfect with your skin tone, and the fit is... yeah. It’s... it’s doing something.”<<elseif $formalwear is "Crimson Red Off-Shoulder Dress with a Cinched Waist">>$V_name’s eyes darted everywhere but at you. “Yeah. Like, the dress is... really working for you. It’s… you know, it’s got that tailored thing going on, and the color’s perfect with your skin tone, and the fit is... yeah. It’s... it’s doing something.”<<elseif $formalwear is "Dark Green Velvet Suit with Cropped Trousers">>$V_name’s eyes darted everywhere but at you. “Yeah. Like, the suit is... really working for you. It’s… you know, it’s got that tailored thing going on, and the color’s perfect with your skin tone, and the fit is... yeah. It’s... it’s doing something.”<<elseif $formalwear is "Black Double-Breasted Blazer with Wide Leg Trousers">>$V_name’s eyes darted everywhere but at you. “Yeah. Like, the blazer is... really working for you. It’s… you know, it’s got that tailored thing going on, and the color’s perfect with your skin tone, and the fit is... yeah. It’s... it’s doing something.”<</if>>
You turned back to the mirror, feeling a small surge of satisfaction as you checked yourself out again.
“I guess that’s a good thing,” you teased, your tone a little lighter. “I wouldn’t want to show up looking like a disaster.”
$V_name shook $V_hisher head frantically. “Oh, no, no disaster. Far from it. More like... like one of those runway models who just casually walks around being perfect and making everyone feel bad about themselves.”
You chuckled at that, finally turning to look at $V_himher again. $V_name was fidgeting with the cup of coffee you’d given $V_himher earlier, the lid twisting and untwisting in $V_hisher nervous hands.
“I don’t know about that,” you said, amused by $V_hisher words. “But I’ll take the compliment.”
$V_name’s blush deepened. “Sorry. I’m, uh, rambling, aren’t I?”
“A little.” You smiled, letting the teasing note slip into your voice again. “But it’s kind of cute.”
$V_name’s deep brown eyes widened even more, if that were possible, before $V_heshe ducked $V_hisher head, staring down at the coffee cup as though it held the answers to the universe. “Thanks.”
You looked at yourself one last time in the mirror, feeling a sense of satisfaction settle over you. “So, you think this is the one, then?”
$V_name finally raised $V_hisher eyes to meet yours again, still looking a bit shy, but more confident this time. “Yeah. I think it’s perfect for you. You’ll definitely turn some heads at the dinner.”
You gave $V_himher a genuine smile. “Thanks for helping me with this. I probably would’ve walked in wearing... I don’t know, something way less ‘runway model.’”
$V_HeShe laughed, a bit of the tension easing from $V_hisher shoulders. “I think you’d have looked amazing anyway. And, hey, if anyone says otherwise, I’ll... well, I don’t know what I’ll do, but I’ll back you up.”
You chuckled. “I’ll hold you to that.”
And with that, you disappeared back into the fitting room, leaving $V_name to compose $V_himself as the nervous flush finally began to fade from $V_hisher cheeks.
<<button "Next" "V outfit 5">><</button>>/*[[V outfit 5]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Shy<</notify>><<if $formalwear is "Classic Black Tuxedo with Velvet Lapel">>$V_name’s eyes darted everywhere but at you. “Like, the tux is... really working for you. It’s… you know, it’s got that tailored thing going on, and the color’s perfect with your skin tone, and the fit is... yeah. It’s... it’s doing something.”<<elseif $formalwear is "Midnight Navy Suit with a Slim Fit">>$V_name’s eyes darted everywhere but at you. “Like, the suit is... really working for you. It’s… you know, it’s got that tailored thing going on, and the color’s perfect with your skin tone, and the fit is... yeah. It’s... it’s doing something.”<<elseif $formalwear is "Satin Midnight Blue Gown with a Plunging Neckline">>$V_name’s eyes darted everywhere but at you. “Like, the gown is... really working for you. It’s… you know, it’s got that tailored thing going on, and the color’s perfect with your skin tone, and the fit is... yeah. It’s... it’s doing something.”<<elseif $formalwear is "Crimson Red Off-Shoulder Dress with a Cinched Waist">>$V_name’s eyes darted everywhere but at you. “Like, the dress is... really working for you. It’s… you know, it’s got that tailored thing going on, and the color’s perfect with your skin tone, and the fit is... yeah. It’s... it’s doing something.”<<elseif $formalwear to "Dark Green Velvet Suit with Cropped Trousers">>$V_name’s eyes darted everywhere but at you. “Like, the suit is... really working for you. It’s… you know, it’s got that tailored thing going on, and the color’s perfect with your skin tone, and the fit is... yeah. It’s... it’s doing something.”<<elseif $formalwear to "Black Double-Breasted Blazer with Wide Leg Trousers">>$V_name’s eyes darted everywhere but at you. “Like, the blazer is... really working for you. It’s… you know, it’s got that tailored thing going on, and the color’s perfect with your skin tone, and the fit is... yeah. It’s... it’s doing something.”<</if>>
You turned back to the mirror, feeling the fabric of the outfit against your skin, suddenly very aware of how it fit you.
“I-I guess that’s a good thing,” you stammered softly, trying to find a more relaxed tone but failing. You caught your own reflection, your face heating up. “I wouldn’t want to show up looking, you know... terrible.”
$V_name shook $V_hisher head quickly, eyes wide as $V_heshe rushed to respond. “Oh, no! Not terrible at all. You look... uh, incredible. Like, um, one of those runway models? You know, just... casually perfect.”
You chuckled awkwardly, but the compliment seemed to hang in the air, making your face warm even more. You fiddled with the front of your outfit.
“I don’t know about that,” you mumbled, feeling shy under $V_hisher gaze. “But thanks. That’s really nice of you to say.”
$V_name’s blush deepened, and $V_heshe started fumbling with the coffee cup, twisting the lid nervously. “Sorry, I’m just... I’m kind of rambling, aren’t I?”
“A little,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. But your shyness was tinged with a small smile. “It’s... uh, it’s okay though.”
$V_name looked like $V_heshe was going to melt into the floor, but $V_heshe managed to mumble, “You’re welcome,” while staring intently at the coffee cup.
You turned back to the mirror, your cheeks still warm. “So, uh... you think this is the right one?”
$V_name looked up at you, still a little flustered, but more certain this time. “Yeah, it’s... perfect for you. You’ll definitely... I mean, you’ll turn heads, for sure.”
Your lips tugged into a shy smile. “Thanks. I... I really appreciate you helping me with this.”
$V_name nodded vigorously. “Of course! I mean, it’s no problem at all. You’re... you’re going to look amazing.”
You ducked back into the fitting room, still feeling the heat in your cheeks, but smiling at $V_hisher words, wondering how long it would take for your heart to stop racing.
<<button "Next" "V outfit 5">><</button>>/*[[V outfit 5]]*/<<if $formalwear is "Classic Black Tuxedo with Velvet Lapel">>$V_name’s eyes darted everywhere but at you. “Like, the tux is... really working for you. It’s… you know, it’s got that tailored thing going on, and the color’s perfect with your skin tone, and the fit is... yeah. It’s... it’s doing something.”<<elseif $formalwear is "Midnight Navy Suit with a Slim Fit">>$V_name’s eyes darted everywhere but at you. “Like, the suit is... really working for you. It’s… you know, it’s got that tailored thing going on, and the color’s perfect with your skin tone, and the fit is... yeah. It’s... it’s doing something.”<<elseif $formalwear is "Satin Midnight Blue Gown with a Plunging Neckline">>$V_name’s eyes darted everywhere but at you. “Like, the gown is... really working for you. It’s… you know, it’s got that tailored thing going on, and the color’s perfect with your skin tone, and the fit is... yeah. It’s... it’s doing something.”<<elseif $formalwear is "Crimson Red Off-Shoulder Dress with a Cinched Waist">>$V_name’s eyes darted everywhere but at you. “Like, the dress is... really working for you. It’s… you know, it’s got that tailored thing going on, and the color’s perfect with your skin tone, and the fit is... yeah. It’s... it’s doing something.”<<elseif $formalwear to "Dark Green Velvet Suit with Cropped Trousers">>$V_name’s eyes darted everywhere but at you. “Like, the suit is... really working for you. It’s… you know, it’s got that tailored thing going on, and the color’s perfect with your skin tone, and the fit is... yeah. It’s... it’s doing something.”<<elseif $formalwear to "Black Double-Breasted Blazer with Wide Leg Trousers">>$V_name’s eyes darted everywhere but at you. “Like, the blazer is... really working for you. It’s… you know, it’s got that tailored thing going on, and the color’s perfect with your skin tone, and the fit is... yeah. It’s... it’s doing something.”<</if>>
You turned back to the mirror, adjusting your outfit slightly as you studied the fit.
“I guess that’s a good thing,” you said with a casual shrug, not catching the nervous energy from $V_name. “I wouldn’t want to show up looking like a disaster.”
$V_name quickly shook $V_hisher head. “Oh, no, no disaster. You look... well, incredible. Like one of those, uh, runway models or something. The kind that makes everyone else feel, um, less good about themselves.”
You glanced back at $V_himher, raising an eyebrow, not fully absorbing the flustered tone in $V_hisher voice.
“Runway model?” you chuckled. “I don’t know about that. But, hey, thanks.”
$V_name’s blush deepened, and $V_heshe started fiddling with the coffee cup you’d handed $V_himher earlier, twisting the lid nervously. “Sorry. I’m, uh, rambling, aren’t I?”
You laughed lightly, adjusting the sleeves of the suit without turning around to face $V_himher. “Maybe a little, but no worries.”
You turned back to the mirror, unaware of how deep $V_hisher blush had become.
“So, do you think this is the one?” you asked casually, examining the cut of the jacket again.
$V_name blinked at you, still visibly flustered. “Yeah... definitely. I mean, you look... perfect.” $V_hisher voice was softer now, like $V_heshe was barely holding it together.
You smiled, completely oblivious to the way $V_hisher eyes kept darting away from you. “Great. Thanks for helping me with this. I probably would’ve picked something way less... runway model-y.”
$V_name let out a nervous laugh. “You... you’d look good in anything, honestly. But, yeah, this is, uh, really... really good.”
You gave a casual nod and ducked back into the fitting room, totally unaware of how dark $V_hisher face had become as $V_heshe stood there, still fidgeting with the coffee cup like it was the most interesting thing in the world.
<<button "Next" "V outfit 5">><</button>>/*[[V outfit 5]]*/You paid for the outfit with your Amex Centurion Card before leaving the store beside $V_name.
The two of you walked side by side, the autumn chill pressing in as you made your way back to Blackthorne Hall, the outfit you had just bought wrapped neatly in a garment bag. The streets were busier now—students, locals, and the occasional tourist filling the sidewalks. The smell of coffee still lingered, and the sound of distant construction work echoed faintly from somewhere near campus.
You were mid-conversation with $V_name, who was explaining some obscure historical fact about the formal dinners you were preparing for, when you both rounded the corner. That’s when you saw them: two women walking arm in arm, their pace slow and easy, as if savoring the morning. The taller one of the two had a cascade of auburn hair that caught the sunlight, her cornflower blue eyes bright and warm. The other had darker skin and wore her coily hair in a soft, voluminous afro, her smile wide and genuine. They were talking quietly to each other, laughing about something, completely at ease with one another.
$V_name suddenly froze next to you, glancing between the women and you with wide eyes.
“Oh my God,” $V_heshe muttered, rubbing the back of $V_hisher neck. “That’s... um, my moms.”
You blinked, feeling a sudden rush of nerves for reasons you couldn’t quite place. “Your...?”
$V_name nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. Uh, come on, let’s say hi.”
Before you could respond, $V_heshe led you toward them. As you approached, the women’s conversation slowed, both of them turning their attention toward you. The auburn-haired woman was the first to speak, her eyes lighting up at the sight of $V_name.
“<em>Guldklump</em>!” she said, voice warm and lilting with a slight Danish accent which remained even when she switched to English. She let go of her wife’s arm and pulled $V_name into a tight hug. “I didn’t expect to see you out here this early. We thought you’d be sleeping in.”
$V_name laughed awkwardly, stepping back as $V_hisher other mom—the shorter one—took $V_hisher hand, giving it a light squeeze.
“Hey, sweetheart,” she said, her voice soft but rich, like a blanket on a cold night.
“Hi, Mama,” $V_name replied, looking suddenly embarrassed in a way you’d never seen before.
You hovered a little to the side, unsure of what to do with yourself, until $V_name seemed to remember you were standing there. $V_HisHer eyes widened slightly, and $V_heshe gestured quickly in your direction. “Oh, right, this is my suitemate, $MC_firstname. And also, um, my friend.”
You smiled awkwardly, raising a hand in a small wave. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”
Both women turned toward you, and you felt the weight of their attention. The auburn-haired woman was the first to speak, her eyes soft as she studied you. “Nice to meet you, $MC_firstname. I’m Brigitte, $V_name’s mom,” she said, offering her hand.
You shook it, feeling her firm but gentle grip. “And I’m Roxanne,” the other woman added, her warm smile making you feel just a bit more at ease. “It’s so lovely to meet one of $V_nickname’s friends. It’s also good news that you’re $V_hisher suitemate as well.”
“Likewise,” you said, trying to ignore the faint awkwardness settling into your limbs. There was something about meeting parents—especially parents who were this effortlessly kind and warm—that made you feel quite off-balance.
There was a beat of silence, and you could feel $V_name shifting nervously beside you. “We were just, um, doing some shopping,” $V_heshe explained, tugging a little at the sleeve of $V_hisher jacket. “For the dinner thing tonight.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Brigitte exclaimed, her eyes darting to the garment bag you held in your hand. “Formalwear shopping, huh? I hope our $V_nickname didn’t steer you wrong.”
You chuckled, shrugging. “No, $V_name was great. Helped me pick something out that won’t make me look completely out of place.”
Roxanne chuckled, patting $V_name lightly on the shoulder. “$V_HeShe has always had a good eye for these things. You’re in good hands.”
$V_name blushed faintly, looking down at $V_hisher shoes as the conversation hit another lull. You opened your mouth to say something, anything to ease the awkward tension you were feeling, but before you could, Brigitte glanced at her watch.
“We should probably head to the bed-and-breakfast,” she said, glancing at Roxanne. “Didn’t want to miss check-in.”
$V_name blinked, looking between his moms and you. “Oh, right! I totally forgot about that.” $V_HisHer voice sounded apologetic, and $V_heshe turned toward you. “I, uh, I guess I’ll see you later?”
You nodded quickly, offering a small smile. “Yeah, of course. No worries. Have a great time.”
There was an awkward moment of goodbyes, but it wasn’t unpleasant—just a little unsure on both your parts. Brigitte gave you a small wave, and Roxanne offered you one last warm smile before they turned to leave, $V_name following after them. You watched as they walked away, arm in arm again, $V_heshe casted one last glance over $V_hisher shoulder before disappearing down the street.
As you headed back toward your suite at Blackthorne Hall, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, despite the lingering uncertainty that came with meeting $V_name’s parents unexpectedly.
<<button "Next" "Formal dinner">><</button>>/*[[Formal dinner]]*/<<notify>>Saved!<</notify>><<if $clothes is "dress" or $clothes is "gown">>It was now 6:30 p.m. You stood in front of the mirror in your suite, or smoothing out the hem of your outfit. The formal dinner loomed over the evening like an inevitable test, an unspoken rite of passage. Your reflection stared back at you, cool and composed, but there was a flicker of an emotion just beneath the surface. You could manage this—after all, you had done this before. The high society dinners, the formal events where appearances mattered more than anything else. But there was something different about this. Something... heavier.<<else>>It was now 6:30 p.m. You stood in front of the mirror in your suite, adjusting the lapels of your outfit. The formal dinner loomed over the evening like an inevitable test, an unspoken rite of passage. Your reflection stared back at you, cool and composed, but there was a flicker of an emotion just beneath the surface. You could manage this—after all, you had done this before. The high society dinners, the formal events where appearances mattered more than anything else. But there was something different about this. Something... heavier.<</if>>
You sighed, a soft exhale of nerves, before grabbing your keys and stepping out into the hallway, the door of your suite locking behind you with a soft click. The air was cooler now, a reminder that fall was just around the corner, and the sun was beginning its descent, casting the world in a warm bronze tint.
The buzz of students preparing for the dinner hummed through the walls of Blackthorne Hall. A few students passed by, dressed in their finest, exchanging nervous glances or muttering last-minute reassurances to themselves. You walked past them with a calm, confident air, as if you belonged—because in some ways, you did.
The dining hall doors were wide open, and a stream of students and faculty members was flowing steadily inside. As you passed under the archway, you felt a shift—like stepping into another world. The grand hall was even more stunning than usual, and the decorations were nothing short of breathtaking. Chandeliers hung like clusters of stars, their golden light reflecting off the polished floors and casting a warm glow over the room. The walls were adorned with rich tapestries, and floral arrangements spilled over the edges of the tables, a mix of deep reds, golds, and greens that matched the elegance of the setting.
The faculty members were scattered across the room, dressed in formal attire, some deep in conversation with students or colleagues. A few older, distinguished-looking individuals caught your eye—likely alumni or people of importance to the college. They moved through the room with an air of quiet authority, as if they were a part of the architecture itself, pillars of the college.
Your eyes scanned the room, noticing the clusters of students scattered throughout the hall. Most of the upperclassmen seemed at ease, already mingling with each other or sitting comfortably at the tables. But the freshmen—you could spot them immediately. They stood out in the way they tried not to. Their postures were too stiff, their conversations too careful, like they were afraid of saying the wrong thing and being cast out before the semester even started. You could see the uncertainty in their eyes, the way they glanced around the room as if searching for some kind of anchor.
*[[While you came from high society, you still felt so out of place on the inside.|FD 1.1][$Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[You slipped into the background, blending in, trying not to stand out too much.|FD 1.2][$Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[You flashed a quick smile at someone passing by, nodding in acknowledgment but not committing to a conversation.|FD 1.3][$Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[You stood straighter, letting the familiar sense of control wash over you. This was nothing you couldn't handle.|FD 1.4][$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[You leaned against one of the columns, arms crossed casually, your eyes sweeping over the room with easy nonchalance.|FD 1.5][$Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[You adjusted your outfit subconsciously, making sure everything was perfectly in place. Everything had to be just right.|FD 1.6][$Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100)]]<<notify 5s>>+ Humble<</notify>>You kept your steps measured, your posture composed, but the truth was, beneath it all, there was a strange discomfort buzzing under your skin. This place—Yale, Blackthorne Hall, the traditions, the weight of expectation—it was different from the polished dinner parties you’d attended in the past. Those events were rehearsed, predictable in their outcomes. Here, the stakes felt real. You knew how to play the part, but still, there was something unsettling about the way everyone seemed to be silently competing, assessing each other. You caught a glimpse of yourself in one of the tall mirrors lining the walls, and for a second, the reflection felt like someone else—a version of you that belonged here, even if you didn’t feel like it.
You made your way further into the hall, your gaze sweeping over the tables. Some students were already seated, talking in low voices, their laughter quiet but cutting through the ambient noise. You caught snippets of conversation—small talk about summer vacations, whispers about the semester ahead, nervous comments about the faculty members hovering at the edges of the room. It was a cacophony of first impressions, everyone trying to figure out their place in this carefully curated hierarchy.
You noticed a few upperclassmen near the high table, standing in small groups, exchanging knowing glances with each other. They seemed to move with a different kind of energy, the kind that came from familiarity. This wasn’t their first time at an event like this, and they carried themselves with a practiced ease, their laughter quieter but more confident, their gestures smooth and calculated. It was clear that they had already claimed their space in this world, and they were watching the rest of you—the new blood—try to find yours.
You found yourself gravitating toward the edges of the room, where the crowd was thinner. The chandeliers cast long shadows against the walls, and for a moment, you let yourself breathe. The weight of expectation seemed to hang over everything—the expectation to be charming, to be graceful, to belong. It was like the air was thick with it, pressing down on your chest.
You were good at this, though. You knew how to work a room, even if you didn’t always feel like it. You knew how to navigate the delicate dance of conversation, how to say just enough to be intriguing without giving too much away. It was a skill you had honed over years of high-society events, and tonight was no different.
As the minutes ticked by, more students filled the hall, and the noise level began to rise. You glanced around, noticing the way the room was beginning to fill with energy, the nervousness of the freshmen blending with the confidence of the upperclassmen. You could feel the tension in the air, the way everyone was sizing each other up, trying to figure out who would rise to the top and who would fade into the background.
You found a seat toward the middle of one of the long tables, deciding it was a good balance between visibility and anonymity. As you sat, smoothing the fabric of your outfit, the sound of a conversation nearby caught your attention. A group of students at the next table were discussing something with an intensity that made you pause.
“They say the dean's speech is going to set the tone for the entire semester,” one of them murmured, leaning forward with a conspiratorial smile on her face. “Whatever that means.”
“You know what it means,” another student replied, his tone half-joking, half-serious. “It means we better not screw up this year.”
You turned your attention back to your own table as the conversation continued, your fingers tracing the delicate edge of your wine glass. The nerves you’d managed to keep at bay were starting to resurface, a subtle unease creeping in. It wasn’t that you were afraid of messing up, but there was something about the grandeur of the evening—the weight of the expectations—that made it hard to fully relax.
You glanced up as a server passed by, pouring wine into your glass with a practiced elegance. It seemed like your residential hall did not give that much importance to Connecticut’s legal drinking age. The deep red liquid swirled in the glass, catching the light from the chandeliers above. For a moment, you let yourself get lost in the movement, the simplicity of the task offering a brief respite from the tension in the room.
*[[You wrinkle your nose at that eventually, knowing that you didn’t drink.|FD 2][$MC_drinkfreq to "never", $option to 1]]
*[[You drink sometimes, your father made sure your palate could appreciate wines. You’d rather stay sober tonight, though.|FD 2][$MC_drinkfreq to "occasionally", $option to 2]]
*[[You drink sometimes, your father made sure your palate could appreciate wines. You’re planning to indulge a little tonight.|FD 2][$MC_drinkfreq to "occasionally", $option to 3]]
*[[YIPEE, FREE ALCOHOL!|FD 2][$MC_drinkfreq to "occasionally", $option to 4]]<<notify 5s>>+ Aloof<</notify>>Instead of seeking out conversation or making your presence known, you let yourself become part of the scenery. It was easier that way. Less pressure. The hall was grand, yes, but you focused on the details instead: the intricate carvings on the dark wooden beams, the subtle shimmer of candlelight on the silverware. You had been trained to notice those things, to find beauty in subtlety. While others were trying to impress or be impressed, you observed, keeping a comfortable distance. You didn’t need to insert yourself into the fray. The moment would come when it would, and until then, you were content to be the silent witness to the spectacle around you.
You made your way further into the hall, your gaze sweeping over the tables. Some students were already seated, talking in low voices, their laughter quiet but cutting through the ambient noise. You caught snippets of conversation—small talk about summer vacations, whispers about the semester ahead, nervous comments about the faculty members hovering at the edges of the room. It was a cacophony of first impressions, everyone trying to figure out their place in this carefully curated hierarchy.
You noticed a few upperclassmen near the high table, standing in small groups, exchanging knowing glances with each other. They seemed to move with a different kind of energy, the kind that came from familiarity. This wasn’t their first time at an event like this, and they carried themselves with a practiced ease, their laughter quieter but more confident, their gestures smooth and calculated. It was clear that they had already claimed their space in this world, and they were watching the rest of you—the new blood—try to find yours.
You found yourself gravitating toward the edges of the room, where the crowd was thinner. The chandeliers cast long shadows against the walls, and for a moment, you let yourself breathe. The weight of expectation seemed to hang over everything—the expectation to be charming, to be graceful, to belong. It was like the air was thick with it, pressing down on your chest.
You were good at this, though. You knew how to work a room, even if you didn’t always feel like it. You knew how to navigate the delicate dance of conversation, how to say just enough to be intriguing without giving too much away. It was a skill you had honed over years of high-society events, and tonight was no different.
As the minutes ticked by, more students filled the hall, and the noise level began to rise. You glanced around, noticing the way the room was beginning to fill with energy, the nervousness of the freshmen blending with the confidence of the upperclassmen. You could feel the tension in the air, the way everyone was sizing each other up, trying to figure out who would rise to the top and who would fade into the background.
You found a seat toward the middle of one of the long tables, deciding it was a good balance between visibility and anonymity. As you sat, smoothing the fabric of your outfit, the sound of a conversation nearby caught your attention. A group of students at the next table were discussing something with an intensity that made you pause.
“They say the dean's speech is going to set the tone for the entire semester,” one of them murmured, leaning forward with a conspiratorial smile on her face. “Whatever that means.”
“You know what it means,” another student replied, his tone half-joking, half-serious. “It means we better not screw up this year.”
You turned your attention back to your own table as the conversation continued, your fingers tracing the delicate edge of your wine glass. The nerves you’d managed to keep at bay were starting to resurface, a subtle unease creeping in. It wasn’t that you were afraid of messing up, but there was something about the grandeur of the evening—the weight of the expectations—that made it hard to fully relax.
You glanced up as a server passed by, pouring wine into your glass with a practiced elegance. It seemed like your residential hall did not give that much importance to Connecticut’s legal drinking age. The deep red liquid swirled in the glass, catching the light from the chandeliers above. For a moment, you let yourself get lost in the movement, the simplicity of the task offering a brief respite from the tension in the room.
*[[You wrinkle your nose at that eventually, knowing that you didn’t drink.|FD 2][$MC_drinkfreq to "never", $option to 1]]
*[[You drink sometimes, your father made sure your palate could appreciate wines. You’d rather stay sober tonight, though.|FD 2][$MC_drinkfreq to "occasionally", $option to 2]]
*[[You drink sometimes, your father made sure your palate could appreciate wines. You’re planning to indulge a little tonight.|FD 2][$MC_drinkfreq to "occasionally", $option to 3]]
*[[YIPEE, FREE ALCOHOL!|FD 2][$MC_drinkfreq to "occasionally", $option to 4]]<<notify 5s>>+ Friendly<</notify>>Your gaze locked with a student walking by—one of the upperclassmen, you thought, judging by their more relaxed posture. They gave you a quick once-over, as people do in rooms like this, but it wasn’t unfriendly. You smiled back, just enough to show that you weren’t intimidated, that you were approachable if they chose to strike up a conversation. It was a practiced gesture, one you’d honed over years of attending gatherings where politeness often took the place of genuine interaction. A smile and a nod, a silent acknowledgment of each other's presence without the weight of commitment.
You made your way further into the hall, your gaze sweeping over the tables. Some students were already seated, talking in low voices, their laughter quiet but cutting through the ambient noise. You caught snippets of conversation—small talk about summer vacations, whispers about the semester ahead, nervous comments about the faculty members hovering at the edges of the room. It was a cacophony of first impressions, everyone trying to figure out their place in this carefully curated hierarchy.
You noticed a few upperclassmen near the high table, standing in small groups, exchanging knowing glances with each other. They seemed to move with a different kind of energy, the kind that came from familiarity. This wasn’t their first time at an event like this, and they carried themselves with a practiced ease, their laughter quieter but more confident, their gestures smooth and calculated. It was clear that they had already claimed their space in this world, and they were watching the rest of you—the new blood—try to find yours.
You found yourself gravitating toward the edges of the room, where the crowd was thinner. The chandeliers cast long shadows against the walls, and for a moment, you let yourself breathe. The weight of expectation seemed to hang over everything—the expectation to be charming, to be graceful, to belong. It was like the air was thick with it, pressing down on your chest.
You were good at this, though. You knew how to work a room, even if you didn’t always feel like it. You knew how to navigate the delicate dance of conversation, how to say just enough to be intriguing without giving too much away. It was a skill you had honed over years of high-society events, and tonight was no different.
As the minutes ticked by, more students filled the hall, and the noise level began to rise. You glanced around, noticing the way the room was beginning to fill with energy, the nervousness of the freshmen blending with the confidence of the upperclassmen. You could feel the tension in the air, the way everyone was sizing each other up, trying to figure out who would rise to the top and who would fade into the background.
You found a seat toward the middle of one of the long tables, deciding it was a good balance between visibility and anonymity. As you sat, smoothing the fabric of your outfit, the sound of a conversation nearby caught your attention. A group of students at the next table were discussing something with an intensity that made you pause.
“They say the dean's speech is going to set the tone for the entire semester,” one of them murmured, leaning forward with a conspiratorial smile on her face. “Whatever that means.”
“You know what it means,” another student replied, his tone half-joking, half-serious. “It means we better not screw up this year.”
You turned your attention back to your own table as the conversation continued, your fingers tracing the delicate edge of your wine glass. The nerves you’d managed to keep at bay were starting to resurface, a subtle unease creeping in. It wasn’t that you were afraid of messing up, but there was something about the grandeur of the evening—the weight of the expectations—that made it hard to fully relax.
You glanced up as a server passed by, pouring wine into your glass with a practiced elegance. It seemed like your residential hall did not give that much importance to Connecticut’s legal drinking age. The deep red liquid swirled in the glass, catching the light from the chandeliers above. For a moment, you let yourself get lost in the movement, the simplicity of the task offering a brief respite from the tension in the room.
*[[You wrinkle your nose at that eventually, knowing that you didn’t drink.|FD 2][$MC_drinkfreq to "never", $option to 1]]
*[[You drink sometimes, your father made sure your palate could appreciate wines. You’d rather stay sober tonight, though.|FD 2][$MC_drinkfreq to "occasionally", $option to 2]]
*[[You drink sometimes, your father made sure your palate could appreciate wines. You’re planning to indulge a little tonight.|FD 2][$MC_drinkfreq to "occasionally", $option to 3]]
*[[YIPEE, FREE ALCOHOL!|FD 2][$MC_drinkfreq to "occasionally", $option to 4]]<<notify 5s>>+ Arrogant<</notify>>The uncertainty in the air was palpable, especially among the freshmen. You could see it in the way they fidgeted with their cuffs or glanced around the room like they were expecting to be called out at any moment. You, on the other hand, felt a surge of quiet confidence. You had navigated rooms like this for years—dinners with diplomats, galas with the elite—and while this was Yale, it was still just another room filled with people trying to impress each other. You belonged here as much as anyone else, maybe more. Straightening your spine, you let the weight of your experience ground you. The social hierarchy might be more covert here, but it was no less present. And you knew how to climb it.
You made your way further into the hall, your gaze sweeping over the tables. Some students were already seated, talking in low voices, their laughter quiet but cutting through the ambient noise. You caught snippets of conversation—small talk about summer vacations, whispers about the semester ahead, nervous comments about the faculty members hovering at the edges of the room. It was a cacophony of first impressions, everyone trying to figure out their place in this carefully curated hierarchy.
You noticed a few upperclassmen near the high table, standing in small groups, exchanging knowing glances with each other. They seemed to move with a different kind of energy, the kind that came from familiarity. This wasn’t their first time at an event like this, and they carried themselves with a practiced ease, their laughter quieter but more confident, their gestures smooth and calculated. It was clear that they had already claimed their space in this world, and they were watching the rest of you—the new blood—try to find yours.
You found yourself gravitating toward the edges of the room, where the crowd was thinner. The chandeliers cast long shadows against the walls, and for a moment, you let yourself breathe. The weight of expectation seemed to hang over everything—the expectation to be charming, to be graceful, to belong. It was like the air was thick with it, pressing down on your chest.
You were good at this, though. You knew how to work a room, even if you didn’t always feel like it. You knew how to navigate the delicate dance of conversation, how to say just enough to be intriguing without giving too much away. It was a skill you had honed over years of high-society events, and tonight was no different.
As the minutes ticked by, more students filled the hall, and the noise level began to rise. You glanced around, noticing the way the room was beginning to fill with energy, the nervousness of the freshmen blending with the confidence of the upperclassmen. You could feel the tension in the air, the way everyone was sizing each other up, trying to figure out who would rise to the top and who would fade into the background.
You found a seat toward the middle of one of the long tables, deciding it was a good balance between visibility and anonymity. As you sat, smoothing the fabric of your outfit, the sound of a conversation nearby caught your attention. A group of students at the next table were discussing something with an intensity that made you pause.
“They say the dean's speech is going to set the tone for the entire semester,” one of them murmured, leaning forward with a conspiratorial smile on her face. “Whatever that means.”
“You know what it means,” another student replied, his tone half-joking, half-serious. “It means we better not screw up this year.”
You turned your attention back to your own table as the conversation continued, your fingers tracing the delicate edge of your wine glass. The nerves you’d managed to keep at bay were starting to resurface, a subtle unease creeping in. It wasn’t that you were afraid of messing up, but there was something about the grandeur of the evening—the weight of the expectations—that made it hard to fully relax.
You glanced up as a server passed by, pouring wine into your glass with a practiced elegance. It seemed like your residential hall did not give that much importance to Connecticut’s legal drinking age. The deep red liquid swirled in the glass, catching the light from the chandeliers above. For a moment, you let yourself get lost in the movement, the simplicity of the task offering a brief respite from the tension in the room.
*[[You wrinkle your nose at that eventually, knowing that you didn’t drink.|FD 2][$MC_drinkfreq to "never", $option to 1]]
*[[You drink sometimes, your father made sure your palate could appreciate wines. You’d rather stay sober tonight, though.|FD 2][$MC_drinkfreq to "occasionally", $option to 2]]
*[[You drink sometimes, your father made sure your palate could appreciate wines. You’re planning to indulge a little tonight.|FD 2][$MC_drinkfreq to "occasionally", $option to 3]]
*[[YIPEE, FREE ALCOHOL!|FD 2][$MC_drinkfreq to "occasionally", $option to 4]]<<notify 5s>>+ Laidback<</notify>>It didn’t take long for you to find a spot where you could observe without being in the middle of everything. You rested your back against a dark, polished column, crossing your arms loosely over your chest. The room continued to fill, but you didn’t feel the need to engage just yet. People-watching had always been a kind of sport for you—seeing how they moved, who they gravitated towards, the little dynamics that played out in spaces like this. There was no rush to get involved. You’d find your way in when the moment was right. For now, you were content to let the evening unfold around you, like a slow-burning film.
You made your way further into the hall, your gaze sweeping over the tables. Some students were already seated, talking in low voices, their laughter quiet but cutting through the ambient noise. You caught snippets of conversation—small talk about summer vacations, whispers about the semester ahead, nervous comments about the faculty members hovering at the edges of the room. It was a cacophony of first impressions, everyone trying to figure out their place in this carefully curated hierarchy.
You noticed a few upperclassmen near the high table, standing in small groups, exchanging knowing glances with each other. They seemed to move with a different kind of energy, the kind that came from familiarity. This wasn’t their first time at an event like this, and they carried themselves with a practiced ease, their laughter quieter but more confident, their gestures smooth and calculated. It was clear that they had already claimed their space in this world, and they were watching the rest of you—the new blood—try to find yours.
You found yourself gravitating toward the edges of the room, where the crowd was thinner. The chandeliers cast long shadows against the walls, and for a moment, you let yourself breathe. The weight of expectation seemed to hang over everything—the expectation to be charming, to be graceful, to belong. It was like the air was thick with it, pressing down on your chest.
You were good at this, though. You knew how to work a room, even if you didn’t always feel like it. You knew how to navigate the delicate dance of conversation, how to say just enough to be intriguing without giving too much away. It was a skill you had honed over years of high-society events, and tonight was no different.
As the minutes ticked by, more students filled the hall, and the noise level began to rise. You glanced around, noticing the way the room was beginning to fill with energy, the nervousness of the freshmen blending with the confidence of the upperclassmen. You could feel the tension in the air, the way everyone was sizing each other up, trying to figure out who would rise to the top and who would fade into the background.
You found a seat toward the middle of one of the long tables, deciding it was a good balance between visibility and anonymity. As you sat, smoothing the fabric of your outfit, the sound of a conversation nearby caught your attention. A group of students at the next table were discussing something with an intensity that made you pause.
“They say the dean's speech is going to set the tone for the entire semester,” one of them murmured, leaning forward with a conspiratorial smile on her face. “Whatever that means.”
“You know what it means,” another student replied, his tone half-joking, half-serious. “It means we better not screw up this year.”
You turned your attention back to your own table as the conversation continued, your fingers tracing the delicate edge of your wine glass. The nerves you’d managed to keep at bay were starting to resurface, a subtle unease creeping in. It wasn’t that you were afraid of messing up, but there was something about the grandeur of the evening—the weight of the expectations—that made it hard to fully relax.
You glanced up as a server passed by, pouring wine into your glass with a practiced elegance. It seemed like your residential hall did not give that much importance to Connecticut’s legal drinking age. The deep red liquid swirled in the glass, catching the light from the chandeliers above. For a moment, you let yourself get lost in the movement, the simplicity of the task offering a brief respite from the tension in the room.
*[[You wrinkle your nose at that eventually, knowing that you didn’t drink.|FD 2][$MC_drinkfreq to "never", $option to 1]]
*[[You drink sometimes, your father made sure your palate could appreciate wines. You’d rather stay sober tonight, though.|FD 2][$MC_drinkfreq to "occasionally", $option to 2]]
*[[You drink sometimes, your father made sure your palate could appreciate wines. You’re planning to indulge a little tonight.|FD 2][$MC_drinkfreq to "occasionally", $option to 3]]
*[[YIPEE, FREE ALCOHOL!|FD 2][$MC_drinkfreq to "occasionally", $option to 4]]<<notify 5s>>+ Uptight<</notify>>As you stood there, you couldn’t help but glance down at yourself, smoothing out an invisible wrinkle, straightening your jacket one more time. It was a reflex—making sure everything was perfect. That was the thing about events like this: appearances mattered. It wasn’t just about what you said or who you talked to; it was about how you carried yourself, how you were perceived. Everything had to be flawless. You checked the time on your watch, a small reminder to yourself that punctuality mattered, too. The night had just begun, and there was still plenty of room for things to go wrong. But not for you. You’d keep it all together, no matter what.
You made your way further into the hall, your gaze sweeping over the tables. Some students were already seated, talking in low voices, their laughter quiet but cutting through the ambient noise. You caught snippets of conversation—small talk about summer vacations, whispers about the semester ahead, nervous comments about the faculty members hovering at the edges of the room. It was a cacophony of first impressions, everyone trying to figure out their place in this carefully curated hierarchy.
You noticed a few upperclassmen near the high table, standing in small groups, exchanging knowing glances with each other. They seemed to move with a different kind of energy, the kind that came from familiarity. This wasn’t their first time at an event like this, and they carried themselves with a practiced ease, their laughter quieter but more confident, their gestures smooth and calculated. It was clear that they had already claimed their space in this world, and they were watching the rest of you—the new blood—try to find yours.
You found yourself gravitating toward the edges of the room, where the crowd was thinner. The chandeliers cast long shadows against the walls, and for a moment, you let yourself breathe. The weight of expectation seemed to hang over everything—the expectation to be charming, to be graceful, to belong. It was like the air was thick with it, pressing down on your chest.
You were good at this, though. You knew how to work a room, even if you didn’t always feel like it. You knew how to navigate the delicate dance of conversation, how to say just enough to be intriguing without giving too much away. It was a skill you had honed over years of high-society events, and tonight was no different.
As the minutes ticked by, more students filled the hall, and the noise level began to rise. You glanced around, noticing the way the room was beginning to fill with energy, the nervousness of the freshmen blending with the confidence of the upperclassmen. You could feel the tension in the air, the way everyone was sizing each other up, trying to figure out who would rise to the top and who would fade into the background.
You found a seat toward the middle of one of the long tables, deciding it was a good balance between visibility and anonymity. As you sat, smoothing the fabric of your outfit, the sound of a conversation nearby caught your attention. A group of students at the next table were discussing something with an intensity that made you pause.
“They say the dean's speech is going to set the tone for the entire semester,” one of them murmured, leaning forward with a conspiratorial smile on her face. “Whatever that means.”
“You know what it means,” another student replied, his tone half-joking, half-serious. “It means we better not screw up this year.”
You turned your attention back to your own table as the conversation continued, your fingers tracing the delicate edge of your wine glass. The nerves you’d managed to keep at bay were starting to resurface, a subtle unease creeping in. It wasn’t that you were afraid of messing up, but there was something about the grandeur of the evening—the weight of the expectations—that made it hard to fully relax.
You glanced up as a server passed by, pouring wine into your glass with a practiced elegance. It seemed like your residential hall did not give that much importance to Connecticut’s legal drinking age. The deep red liquid swirled in the glass, catching the light from the chandeliers above. For a moment, you let yourself get lost in the movement, the simplicity of the task offering a brief respite from the tension in the room.
*[[You wrinkle your nose at that eventually, knowing that you didn’t drink.|FD 2][$MC_drinkfreq to "never", $option to 1]]
*[[You drink sometimes, your father made sure your palate could appreciate wines. You’d rather stay sober tonight, though.|FD 2][$MC_drinkfreq to "occasionally", $option to 2]]
*[[You drink sometimes, your father made sure your palate could appreciate wines. You’re planning to indulge a little tonight.|FD 2][$MC_drinkfreq to "occasionally", $option to 3]]
*[[YIPEE, FREE ALCOHOL!|FD 2][$MC_drinkfreq to "occasionally", $option to 4]]<<if $option is 1 or $option is 2>>Just as you were pushing the glass away, you heard a voice beside you.<<else>>Just as you were about to take a sip, you heard a voice beside you.<</if>><<unset $option>>
“I’m glad you made it.”
<<if $M_gender is "male">>You turned your head to find Maxwell standing behind you, his own glass of wine in hand. He was dressed in a well-fitted charcoal gray suit. His white dress shirt was open at the collar, giving him a relaxed but refined look. The blazer had a slim cut, buttoned at the waist to give his tall figure a sleek silhouette, and the trousers fell just above the polished brogues on his feet. His hair, always perfectly in place, had a soft, windswept look tonight, as if he hadn’t fussed over it much but somehow still looked effortlessly groomed. A simple watch at his wrist which glinted under the light.<<else>>You turned your head to find Maxine standing behind you, her own glass of wine in hand. She wore a knee-length dress in a soft, silvery gray that almost shimmered under the dining hall lights. The dress was simple but elegant, with thin straps and a cinched waist that flared slightly into a subtle A-line shape, the fabric flowing with her movements. Her heels were modest, a few inches high and the same silvery color as the dress. Her hair was pinned back in soft waves, framing her face in a way that felt gentle, almost demure. A pair of pearl earrings dangled from her ears, understated but classic.<</if>>
$M_HeShe offered a half-smile. “You look like you're deep in thought.”
“Just taking it all in,” you replied. “It’s a lot.”
$M_HeShe nodded, $M_hisher eyes scanning the room. “Yeah, they really go all out for these dinners. It’s almost like we’re expected to be on our best behavior, but also... like we’re supposed to impress each other. Weird mix.”
$M_HeShe gestured to the empty space beside you, not waiting for permission before slipping into the long seat. $M_HisHer presence seemed to anchor you somehow, a steadying force amidst the low buzz of conversation and the gentle clinking of glasses around the room.
You offered a faint smile in return. “Wouldn’t miss it. Formal dinners can be pretty stuffy, but here we are.”
“Here we are,” $M_name echoed softly, setting $M_hisher glass down with a careful hand. $M_HisHer gaze swept across the room, taking in the scene with a practiced eye. There was an elegance to $M_hisher movements, the way $M_heshe carried $M_himself, but also an underlying exhaustion, like $M_heshe had been here too many times, playing the same role in the same well-rehearsed play.
“What’s on the agenda tonight?” you asked, settling back into your seat and turning your attention to $M_name, curiosity edging into your tone. You weren’t particularly interested in the pageantry, but $M_heshe was probably privy to what might happen tonight as $M_heshe was an RA and also helped with the decorations.
<<if $M_gender is "female">>Maxine let out a quiet breath, brushing a lock of hair back behind her ear. “The dean will make a short speech before dinner starts. It’ll be one of those ‘Welcome to the new academic year, let’s not embarrass ourselves’ kind of speeches. After that, the plates will be cleared, and people will start socializing. Dancing, too, if you’re into that.”<<else>>Maxwell let out a quiet breath, slicking his hair back with a hand. “The dean will make a short speech before dinner starts. It’ll be one of those ‘Welcome to the new academic year, let’s not embarrass ourselves’ kind of speeches. After that, the plates will be cleared, and people will start socializing. Dancing, too, if you’re into that.”<</if>>
You raised an eyebrow. “Dancing?”
$M_name smirked, leaning in slightly. “It’s tradition. And, of course, it’s a chance for everyone to mingle and show off. Think of it like the post-dinner performance.”
You couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped you. “I can’t imagine half the people here actually wanting to dance.”
“Oh, trust me,” $M_name said, a mischievous gleam in $M_hisher eye. “They will. Most of them aren’t here just to eat and leave. These dinners are... opportunities. You know how it is.” $M_HisHer tone was soft, conspiratorial, the edges of an open secret hidden beneath $M_hisher words. $M_HeShe turned $M_hisher gaze back to the room, watching as the crowd slowly grew denser, the sound of conversation growing louder.
“Opportunities for what?” you asked, although you had a feeling you already knew the answer. At Blackthorne Hall, every social gathering was more than what it seemed on the surface.
“Connections. All of this—” $M_name gestured vaguely to the room, the decorations, the carefully arranged seating, the faculty at the high table. “It’s a show. A way for people to position themselves, to align with the right people, the right circles. Tonight, everyone’s watching. They’re deciding who’s worth their time and who’s not.”
You glanced around, taking in the way people were already gathering in small clusters, whispers exchanged behind glasses of wine, polite laughter spilling over the clink of silverware. It wasn’t just a dinner—it was a social chessboard, and everyone was making their moves.
“Are you planning on making any connections tonight?” you asked, looking back at $M_name. There was a subtle challenge in your voice, a teasing edge that you knew $M_heshe would catch.
$M_name smiled, but it was a tired smile, as if $M_heshe was too used to the question. “Let’s just say I’m here to observe, mostly. I’ve learned that the people who are too eager to make connections are the ones you should be wary of.”
You hummed in agreement. “So, we just... play along? Smile, chat, dance if we have to, and hope we don’t trip over our own feet?”
“Pretty much,” $M_name replied, a soft laugh escaping $M_hisher lips. “But you won’t trip. You’re good at this.”
“Am I?” you asked, eyebrows raising in genuine curiosity. There was always a part of you that felt slightly out of place at these events, like you were playing a role that didn’t quite fit.
$M_name met your gaze, a knowing look in $M_hisher eyes. “You are. More than you think.”
*[[“Thank you,” you said genuinely.|FD 3.1][$Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+5]]
*[[“You think so?” you asked, trying to keep your voice neutral, though the sincerity in your tone couldn’t quite be hidden.|FD 3.2][$Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+5]]
*[[You gave a small, awkward smile, feeling the warmth creep up your neck. “I guess I should be flattered?” [♥︎]|FD 3.3][$Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100), $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100), $M_romance to $M_romance+1]]
*<<link '“If I didn’t know any better,” you said with a grin, eyes twinkling, “I’d say you were observing me <em>very</em> keenly.” [♥︎]' "FD 3.4">><<set $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100), $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>>/*[[FD 3.4]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Genuine<</notify>>You didn’t try to cover up the sudden wave of gratitude that washed over you. You met $M_name’s gaze with a quiet smile, feeling the tension in your chest loosen, if only slightly.
It wasn’t often that you felt seen in spaces like this—really seen, not just as another player in this game of posturing and power. “I’m not sure I’ve been told that before.”
$M_name tilted $M_hisher head slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of $M_hisher lips.
“Maybe you’ve just been around the wrong people.” $M_HisHer voice was quiet but firm, a subtle strength beneath the softness.
You chuckled lightly, the sound almost foreign in the grand hall, where everything seemed too formal, too structured for something as easy as laughter. “You might be right about that.”
There was a beat of silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was... reflective, like both of you were giving each other the space to exist without needing to fill it with words.
A hush began to fall over the room as the dean of Rathore College, Dr. Everett Shaw, at the high table rose to speak. The soft clink of glasses and murmured conversations faded into silence, all eyes turning toward the elevated platform where the dean stood, waiting for the attention of the room.
$M_name leaned in close, whispering under $M_hisher breath, “Here we go.”
<<button "Next" "FD 4">><</button>>/*[[FD 4]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Aloof<</notify>>You kept your expression neutral, trying not to let the warmth that had flickered in your chest show too much on your face. You weren’t someone who easily accepted praise, especially in spaces like this. It always felt... conditional, like it could be taken away at any moment.
But there was something about the way $M_name spoke—calm, measured, without any hidden agenda—that made you pause.
$M_name nodded once, decisively. “I do. You might not see it yet, but... yeah. You have something.”
You studied $M_himher for a moment, the sincerity in $M_hisher eyes catching you off guard. You weren’t sure what to make of it, weren’t sure how to respond to the way $M_heshe looked at you like you were something more than what you saw in the mirror.
“I’m not sure I agree,” you finally said, a touch of self-deprecation slipping into your voice.
$M_name smiled, but there was something knowing behind it, like $M_heshe could see through your defenses. “That’s okay. You will.”
A hush began to fall over the room as the dean of Rathore College, Dr. Everett Shaw, at the high table rose to speak. The soft clink of glasses and murmured conversations faded into silence, all eyes turning toward the elevated platform where the dean stood, waiting for the attention of the room.
$M_name leaned in close, whispering under $M_hisher breath, “Here we go.”
<<button "Next" "FD 4">><</button>>/*[[FD 4]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Shy<</notify>>The words felt clumsy as they tumbled out of your mouth, and you could feel the warmth creeping up your neck, flooding your cheeks. You weren’t used to moments like this, moments where someone looked at you like you were someone worth genuinely paying attention to. It was disarming in a way you hadn’t expected.
$M_name’s smile softened, but there was still that faint gleam of amusement in $M_hisher eyes.
“You don’t need to be nervous,” $M_heshe said, $M_hisher voice gentle. “I’m not... trying to put you on the spot.”
You laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of your neck. “You’re not... I just... I don’t usually...”
“Get compliments?” $M_name finished for you, a small smile tugging at $M_hisher lips.
“Sincere compliments,” you specified, feeling the embarrassment deepen but also feeling a strange sort of comfort in $M_hisher words. It wasn’t like $M_heshe was mocking you or making you feel small. If anything, $M_heshe was giving you the space to just... be.
“I’m serious,” $M_heshe added, leaning in a little closer. “You’re good at this. You belong here.”
You blinked, the weight of $M_hisher words settling over you like a blanket. For some reason, that reassurance—coming from $M_himher, of all people—meant more than you wanted to admit.
A hush began to fall over the room as the dean of Rathore College, Dr. Everett Shaw, at the high table rose to speak. The soft clink of glasses and murmured conversations faded into silence, all eyes turning toward the elevated platform where the dean stood, waiting for the attention of the room.
$M_name leaned in close, whispering under $M_hisher breath, “Here we go.”
<<button "Next" "FD 4">><</button>>/*[[FD 4]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Bold<</notify>>You let a slow, easy grin spread across your face, leaning slightly toward $M_name as you spoke. There was something playful in your tone, but also something more—the faintest edge of a challenge, a flirtation that you weren’t entirely sure you meant to extend.
$M_name raised an eyebrow, clearly catching on to the subtle shift in your tone. $M_HeShe mirrored your smile, though $M_hishers was more measured, more controlled.
“Maybe I am,” $M_heshe replied smoothly, the hint of amusement dancing in $M_hisher eyes.
The banter between you felt light, but there was something heavier beneath it, a current of tension that neither of you had yet addressed.
“Should I be flattered or concerned?” you asked, your grin never faltering.
“Depends,” $M_name said, leaning in just a little closer, $M_hisher voice lowering conspiratorially. “Do you like being watched?”
The question hung between you for a moment, the playfulness tinged with something sharper. It was a challenge, yes, but one that felt more dangerous than before.
You shrugged, still grinning. “I guess that depends on who’s watching.”
$M_name let out a soft laugh, the sound low and smooth, but didn’t say anything more.
A hush began to fall over the room as the dean of Rathore College, Dr. Everett Shaw, at the high table rose to speak. The soft clink of glasses and murmured conversations faded into silence, all eyes turning toward the elevated platform where the dean stood, waiting for the attention of the room.
$M_name leaned in close, whispering under $M_hisher breath, “Here we go.”
<<button "Next" "FD 4">><</button>>/*[[FD 4]]*/The room quieted as the dean took his place at the front of the dining hall, his figure cast in the warm, muted glow of the chandeliers that hung from the high vaulted ceiling. He was an imposing figure—not because of his size, but because of the way he carried himself, with a quiet jurisdiction that seemed almost effortless. His silver hair was neatly combed back, sharp blue eyes peering out from behind a pair of rectangular glasses. The lines of age creased his face in a way that lent him an air of wisdom rather than weariness, and his dark suit—tailored to perfection—blended seamlessly with the rich mahogany tones of the hall.
You noticed how his gaze seemed to pause for a moment, sweeping over the long tables, taking in the sight of the students—dressed to impress in their formal attire, their expressions expectant. He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod before he began.
“Good evening, everyone,” he said, his voice low and measured, with just the faintest trace of a Scottish accent. “I hope you’re all enjoying the evening so far.”
A few murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd, and you exchanged a glance with $M_name. $M_HeShe smiled slightly, a knowing expression that told you $M_heshe had heard this kind of speech before—many times, most likely. You felt yourself relax, though there was a tension in the room, an air of anticipation that clung to the dining hall.
The dean’s eyes landed on a group of faculty members before returning to the students. “I’ve given a lot of speeches at Blackthorne Hall over the years, and in a lot of ways, they all tend to sound the same. Words like ‘legacy,’ ‘tradition,’ and ‘excellence’ get thrown around, and while those are certainly important, I think there’s something else I’d like to talk about tonight.”
You noticed a shift in the room at that—he had everyone’s attention now. This wasn’t going to be the standard, rote formality.
“I’m not going to stand here and tell you that the weight of history rests on your shoulders,” the dean said, his voice calm but intent. “You know that already. You’re here at Blackthorne Hall, a place that has seen centuries of scholars, leaders, and innovators pass through its doors. But what I want to remind you of tonight is that this is your time. Your moment, right here. And it’s not just about living up to expectations or carrying on traditions—it’s about what <em>you</em> will do with the opportunities you’ve been given.”
His words had an unexpected gravity to them, as though he wasn’t reciting something scripted, but rather speaking directly to you, and to every student sitting there. It was as if he wanted you to feel the truth of what he was saying, to absorb it on a level that went deeper than just a polite formality.
The dean took a step forward, his hands resting lightly on the podium.
“When I was in your position,” he said, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “I remember thinking that I had time to figure it all out. That everything would fall into place if I just followed the path in front of me. But what I’ve learned since is that it’s never that simple. Life doesn’t care about your plans, and often, the path you think you’re on is going to shift, sometimes dramatically.”
His eyes moved again, scanning the faces in the room, and you felt a quiet intensity in his gaze, as though he was truly trying to reach each person individually. “That’s not to say you should abandon your goals, but to remind you that life isn’t a straight line. It’s full of unexpected turns, and how you navigate those moments is what will define you—not just as students, but as people.”
The room was still. No one fidgeted or whispered now; the usual undercurrent of polite disinterest had been replaced by genuine engagement. The dean had a way of speaking that made you feel like he wasn’t just lecturing you but inviting you into a conversation.
“I know,” the dean said, his voice softening, “that Blackthorne Hall, and by extension, Yale and Rathore College, can feel like a world unto itself. The pressure to succeed, the competition, the constant reminder of who’s come before you—it can be overwhelming. But I want to remind you of something important. This place, for all its prestige and history, is just a place. What makes it special, what makes it extraordinary, are the people in it. You.”
A soft murmur passed through the room, as though his words had struck a chord. He let the silence hang for a moment before continuing.
“It’s easy to get lost here,” he said, his tone now quieter, more reflective. “To get caught up in the expectation of what you should be. To forget who you are, what you want, what matters to you. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that the only way to truly succeed—at Rathore, at Yale, or anywhere else—is to stay true to yourself. To remember why you’re here. Not for anyone else’s legacy, but for your own.”
You glanced at $M_name, who was sitting beside you, $M_hisher expression thoughtful. There was a weight to the dean’s words that you hadn’t expected, something more personal, more real than the usual platitudes about tradition and honor. The grand hall, with its high ceilings and long tables, felt smaller somehow—more intimate.
“So tonight,” the dean said, his voice rising slightly, “as we begin another year together, I ask you to reflect on why you’re here. What drives you, what motivates you, beyond the accolades and the achievements? What is it that you truly want to leave behind, not just for the sake of a legacy, but for yourself?”
“I want you to remember,” the dean continued, leaning slightly forward as though to ensure every word reached the back of the hall, “that it’s not about being the best compared to someone else. It’s about being the best version of yourself. It’s about growth, not just success. It’s about learning—not just from your victories, but from your failures. Because trust me, you <em>will</em> fail.”
His words were blunt, but they didn’t feel harsh. If anything, there was a quiet reassurance in his voice. Like he was offering permission to breathe in a place that often demanded perfection.
“And when you do,” he said, a faint smile flickering across his face, “don’t let it define you. Don’t let the setbacks become the only thing you remember. The most valuable thing I’ve learned in all my years here is that failure is not the end. It’s a beginning—a moment where you can redefine what success means to you.”
The dean straightened up slightly, his hands resting lightly on the podium. “Tonight, we celebrate the start of a new year. A year full of opportunity, challenges, and growth. I encourage you to make the most of it. Push yourself, yes, but also be kind to yourself. Forge connections, not just with your peers but with your professors, your mentors. These relationships will shape you in ways you can’t yet imagine.”
His gaze softened as he looked out over the hall. “And don’t forget to enjoy this time. Yes, it’s demanding, yes, it’s competitive, but it’s also fleeting. These years will go faster than you think, and when they’re over, you’ll look back and realize that the moments that mattered the most weren’t the ones spent worrying about what’s next, but the ones spent truly living in the present.”
He let that sink in, the silence stretching for just a beat longer than usual.
“So,” he concluded, his tone gentle but firm, “as we move forward tonight, I ask you to take a moment for yourselves. Think about why you’re here, who you want to be, and how you can make the most of the time you have. Because ultimately, that’s what will define your experience—not the titles or the honors, but the person you become along the way.”
With that, he gave a small nod and stepped back from the podium, his parting words hanging in the air like a challenge—or maybe a promise.
For a moment, the room remained quiet, everyone still digesting the speech. Then, slowly, a polite round of applause started, rippling through the tables. It wasn’t thunderous, but it was respectful, appreciative. You could feel the tension easing, people starting to shift, to relax, as the formality of the evening began to slip into something more casual.
<div id="centered"><<link '“Well, that was something,” $M_name commented with a smile.' "FD 5">><</link>></div>/*[[FD 5]]*/You couldn’t help but smile back, feeling like the evening had taken on a different tone now. More quieter, more introspective. The grand dining hall, with all its elegance and formality, felt less intimidating, more familiar.
“Yeah,” you said quietly. “It really was.”
A moment later, the first course began arriving at each table, carried by waitstaff in immaculate uniforms.
The clink of cutlery and the quiet shuffle of plates echoed around the dining hall, the scent of food rising in rich waves, mingling with the soft glow of candlelight overhead.
The first course arrived, an elegant array of options placed carefully on the table. Each dish felt like a small work of art—thoughtful, deliberate. The staff was quick to note dietary preferences, and there were accommodations for every restriction, ensuring no one felt overlooked.
(<u>For each course, select at most 2</u>)
<<set $MC_firstcourse to []>><<message 'First Course (Appetizer)'>>\
<<hovertip '<strong>Roasted Heirloom Beet Salad [Vegetarian, gluten-free]:</strong> <em>a stunning display of roasted golden and red beets, served with whipped goat cheese, candied walnuts, and microgreens.</em>'>><label><<checkbox "$RHBS" false true autocheck>> Roasted Heirloom Beet Salad [Vegetarian, gluten-free]</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Charred Cauliflower Soup [Vegan, gluten-free, kosher]:</strong> <em>a smooth, velvety blend of charred cauliflower, garlic, and leeks, garnished with crispy chickpeas and a drizzle of truffle oil.</em>'>><label><<checkbox "$CCS" false true autocheck>> Charred Cauliflower Soup [Vegan, gluten-free, kosher]</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Tuna Tartare with Avocado [Gluten-free, pescatarian]:</strong> <em>served in delicate layers of sashimi-grade tuna and creamy avocado, with a touch of yuzu dressing and a sprinkling of black sesame seeds.</em>'>><label><<checkbox "$TTA" false true autocheck>> Tuna Tartare with Avocado [Gluten-free, pescatarian]</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Falafel and Hummus Platter [Vegan, halal, gluten-free]:</strong> <em>crispy falafels served with a smooth tahini drizzle, hummus, and a side of pickled vegetables.</em>'>><label><<checkbox "$FHP" false true autocheck>> Falafel and Hummus Platter [Vegan, halal, gluten-free]</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>French Onion Soup [No dietary restriction]:</strong> <em>a deep, savory broth made from caramelized onions and beef stock, topped with a slice of toasted baguette and melted gruyère cheese.</em>'>><label><<checkbox "$FOS" false true autocheck>> French Onion Soup [No dietary restriction]</label><</hovertip>><</message>>
<<set $MC_secondcourse to []>><<message 'Second Course (Main)'>>\
<<hovertip '<strong>Wild Mushroom Risotto [Vegetarian, gluten-free]:</strong> <em>creamy arborio rice cooked to perfection, with a variety of wild mushrooms (chanterelles, shiitakes, and morels), finished with a sprinkle of fresh parmesan and a drizzle of white truffle oil.</em>'>><label><<checkbox "$WMR" false true autocheck>> Wild Mushroom Risotto [Vegetarian, gluten-free]</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Seared Halibut with Saffron Broth [Gluten-free, pescatarian, halal]:</strong> <em>a beautifully seared piece of halibut, resting on a bed of braised fennel and roasted tomatoes, with a saffron-infused broth gently poured over.</em>'>><label><<checkbox "$SHSB" false true autocheck>> Seared Halibut with Saffron Broth [Gluten-free, pescatarian, halal]</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Braised Short Ribs with Root Vegetables [Gluten-free, kosher, halal]:</strong> <em>slow-braised in red wine until falling-apart tender, the short ribs were served with a side of roasted root vegetables and a garlic herb mash.</em>'>><label><<checkbox "$BSRRV" false true autocheck>> Braised Short Ribs with Root Vegetables [Gluten-free, kosher, halal]</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Stuffed Bell Peppers [Vegan, gluten-free, halal]:</strong> <em>vibrant bell peppers, roasted and stuffed with a mix of quinoa, black beans, and spiced vegetables, served with a side of herbed couscous and avocado salsa.</em>'>><label><<checkbox "$SBP" false true autocheck>> Stuffed Bell Peppers [Vegan, gluten-free, halal]</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Grilled Chicken with Lemon and Herbs [Gluten-free, halal, kosher]:</strong> <em>tender chicken breast, marinated in lemon, garlic, and fresh herbs, then grilled to a perfect char. Served with a side of steamed asparagus and roasted sweet potatoes.</em>'>><label><<checkbox "$GCLH" false true autocheck>> Grilled Chicken with Lemon and Herbs [Gluten-free, halal, kosher]</label><</hovertip>><</message>>
<<set $MC_thirdcourse to []>><<message 'Third Course (Dessert)'>>\
<<hovertip '<strong>Chocolate Mousse [Vegan, gluten-free, kosher, halal]:</strong> <em>smooth, rich dark chocolate mousse made with avocado and coconut cream, topped with fresh berries and a dusting of cacao powder.</em>'>><label><<checkbox "$CM" false true autocheck>> Chocolate Mousse [Vegan, gluten-free, kosher, halal]</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Crème Brûlée [Gluten-free, vegetarian, kosher, halal]:</strong> <em>the perfect crack of caramelized sugar opened to reveal a velvety vanilla custard beneath.</em>'>><label><<checkbox "$CB" false true autocheck>> Crème Brûlée [Gluten-free, vegetarian, kosher, halal]</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Baked Alaska [No dietary restriction]:</strong> <em>a showstopper of a dessert, with layers of sponge cake, ice cream, and meringue, lightly toasted on the outside and served with a fresh raspberry coulis.</em>'>><label><<checkbox "$BA" false true autocheck>> Baked Alaska [No dietary restriction]</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Fruit Tart [Vegetarian]:</strong> <em>a crisp, buttery tart shell filled with almond cream and topped with an array of fresh, seasonal fruits: plums, figs, and pears, all glazed with a hint of apricot.</em>'>><label><<checkbox "$FT" false true autocheck>> Fruit Tart [Vegetarian]</label><</hovertip>>
<<hovertip '<strong>Matcha Cheesecake [Vegetarian]:</strong> <em>smooth, creamy matcha-flavored cheesecake on a gluten-free graham cracker crust, topped with candied ginger and a dollop of whipped coconut cream.</em>'>><label><<checkbox "$MC" false true autocheck>> Matcha Cheesecake [No dietary restriction]</label><</hovertip>><</message>>
<<button "Next" "FD 6">>
<<if $RHBS>><<set $MC_firstcourse.push("Roasted Heirloom Beet Salad")>><</if>>
<<if $CCS>><<set $MC_firstcourse.push("Charred Cauliflower Soup")>><</if>>
<<if $TTA>><<set $MC_firstcourse.push("Tuna Tartare with Avocado")>><</if>>
<<if $FHP>><<set $MC_firstcourse.push("Falafel and Hummus Platter")>><</if>>
<<if $FOS>><<set $MC_firstcourse.push("French Onion Soup")>><</if>>
<<if $WMR>><<set $MC_secondcourse.push("Wild Mushroom Risotto")>><</if>>
<<if $SHSB>><<set $MC_secondcourse.push("Seared Halibut with Saffron Broth")>><</if>>
<<if $BSRRV>><<set $MC_secondcourse.push("Braised Short Ribs with Root Vegetables")>><</if>>
<<if $SBP>><<set $MC_secondcourse.push("Stuffed Bell Peppers")>><</if>>
<<if $GCLH>><<set $MC_secondcourse.push("Grilled Chicken with Lemon and Herbs")>><</if>>
<<if $CM>><<set $MC_thirdcourse.push("Chocolate Mousse")>><</if>>
<<if $CB>><<set $MC_thirdcourse.push("Crème Brûlée")>><</if>>
<<if $BA>><<set $MC_thirdcourse.push("Baked Alaska")>><</if>>
<<if $FT>><<set $MC_thirdcourse.push("Fruit Tart")>><</if>>
<<if $MC>><<set $MC_thirdcourse.push("Matcha Cheesecake")>><</if>>
<</button>>/*[[FD 6]]*/<<if ($MC_firstcourse.length > 2) or ($MC_secondcourse.length > 2) or ($MC_thirdcourse.length > 2)>>You selected more than the allowed maximum. Please choose at most 2 dishes per course.
<<elseif ($MC_firstcourse.length < 1) or ($MC_secondcourse.length < 1) or ($MC_thirdcourse.length < 1)>>You did not select any dishes for at least one course. Please choose at least 1 dish per course.<<else>>“Well," $M_name said, exhaling quietly as $M_heshe straightened in $M_hisher chair. “I should probably go help the other RAs. We need to make sure that no one's acting up—or worse, that uninvited guests haven't crashed the party."
$M_HisHer tone was light, but there was a small wrinkle of responsibility in $M_hisher brow, something you could tell $M_heshe took seriously. You could guess the kind of crowd that sometimes showed up at these formal events—people who had no business being here from other halls and colleges, students who got too bold after a few drinks. Blackthorne Hall had its reputation, and it came with its share of unwanted attention.
You nodded, understanding, and offered a half-smile. “Good luck with that. If you find anyone lurking around in a mask, I’d recommend a sharp exit."
$M_name laughed, shaking $M_hisher head, the sound light but tinged with the slight exasperation of someone who had seen more than their fair share of mischief. “I'll keep that in mind. I’ll see you later, yeah?"
$M_HeShe slipped away into the crowd, weaving through students and faculty like mercury inside a thermometer.
For a moment, you remained seated, watching as the dining hall buzzed with activity. The air felt a bit lighter now, the intensity of the formal dinner waning as people settled into more relaxed conversations, some standing around in clusters while others remained seated, lingering over wine or coffee. You could hear the faint clink of plates being cleared away by the waitstaff, the soft hum of conversation filling the spaces between.
You rose from the long table, brushed down your outfit as you glanced around. The grand hall, still beautifully lit, was slowly evolving into a different kind of atmosphere—less formal, more fluid. People were starting to move freely now, some already heading towards the open spaces where dancing would begin soon, while others, like you, were just taking it all in.
It was then that your gaze caught something—someone, rather—that made you pause. Across the room, near the entrance to the hall, the dean was deep in conversation with a familiar figure. Professor Kathryn Carstairs, the Woolsey Professor of Religious Studies. And more importantly, your academic advisor from Rathore College.
Professor Carstairs stood tall and poised, her raven black hair pulled back in a severe yet elegant bun, her glasses perched on her nose as she spoke to the dean with her characteristic calm and precision. You couldn’t help but wonder what they were discussing. You hadn’t seen her since you first visited her when you arrived at Yale.
For a moment, you considered heading over, just to greet her—after all, she was your advisor—but something held you back. Perhaps it was the weight of the formal dinner still hanging in the air, or the lingering sense that this conversation was not one for you to interrupt. Instead, you remained where you were, watching the two of them from across the room, curious but detached, as if observing a scene from a play unfolding in front of you.
“What are you staring at while standing like a creepy statue?”
You could already feel $C_name's presence beside you, that familiar aura of arrogance practically radiating off $C_himher as $C_heshe stared at you, arms crossed.
<<if $C_gender is "male">>Cédric was dressed in a perfectly fitted, dark green suit, sharp lapels catching the dim lighting in the hall. His crisp white dress shirt was barely visible beneath the slim black tie that hung neatly from his neck. The suit jacket was single-breasted, unbuttoned for a casual flair, and the matching trousers were slim but not tight, accentuating his tall frame. Polished leather Oxfords gleamed on his feet, and there was a slight scruff lining his jaw—a deliberate choice to look effortlessly disheveled.<<else>>Céline wore a dark green jumpsuit with a plunging neckline that dipped just low enough to be daring without being vulgar, the fabric falling effortlessly over her curves. The wide-legged trousers were tailored to perfection, swishing elegantly with each step, and her high-heeled boots peeked from underneath the hem. Her makeup was pretty straightforward, winged eyeliner sharp enough to kill someone, and her lips were painted a dark, daring shade—something deep, like burgundy or plum. Her dark brown hair was tousled just enough to suggest it was intentional.<</if>>
You sighed, already bracing yourself for what would inevitably turn into another back-and-forth. The same dance, the same snark. The way $C_heshe stood there, leaning in like $C_heshe was waiting for something entertaining to happen—probably hoping you’d say something stupid so $C_heshe could pounce on it—was so painfully predictable.
*<<link '“Nothing much,” you replied, plastering a smile onto your face, the kind of smile that would almost certainly irritate $C_name. “Just admiring the view. You know, people-watching. Everyone looks so... refined tonight. You included, of course.”' "FD 7.1">><<set $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100); $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100); $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100); $C_friendship to $C_friendship+2>><</link>>/*[[FD 7.1]]*/
*<<link '“I wasn’t staring,” you said simply, crossing your arms as you looked back at $C_himher without a trace of emotion. “And even if I was, it’s a free country.”' "FD 7.2">><<set $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100); $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100); $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100); $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>>/*[[FD 7.2]]*/
*[[“Oh, you know,” you drawled, voice thick with sarcasm. “Just contemplating the deeper mysteries of life. Like why you insist on being a walking nightmare every time we run into each other.”|FD 7.3][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100); $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100); $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100)]]
*<<link '“Y-you look good,” you ended up blurting out, completely ignoring what $C_heshe said. [♥︎]' "FD 7.4">><<set $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100); $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100); $C_romance to $C_romance+1>><</link>>/*[[FD 7.4]]*/
*<<link '“Oh? Would you rather I stare at <em>you</em> instead?” you teased, a flirty tone creeping into your voice. [♥︎]' "FD 7.5">><<set $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100); $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100); $C_romance to $C_romance+1>><</link>>/*[[FD 7.5]]*/
<</if>><<notify 5s>>+ Genuine, + Friendly<</notify>>$C_HisHer smirk faltered, just for a second, as if the sudden friendliness took $C_himher by surprise. But then $C_hisher expression hardened, the sneer returning full force.
“Please,” $C_heshe scoffed, rolling $C_hisher eyes. “Don’t act like you care about any of this. Trying to butter me up? Good luck.”
You chuckled, keeping your tone light, refusing to rise to the bait. “Why would I need to butter you up? You seem perfectly happy to engage me already.”
$C_name narrowed $C_hisher eyes, clearly not enjoying your refusal to play the hating game the way $C_heshe wanted. “You’re too cheerful. It’s nauseating.”
“Well, I’d hate to ruin your evening with my cheerfulness,” you shot back, keeping your tone warm but undeniably mocking.
$C_HeShe glared, but there was a flicker of confusion there now. Maybe you were winning. Maybe.
“Whatever,” $C_heshe mumbled irritatedly and looked away.
<<button "Next" "FD 8">><</button>>/*[[FD 8]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Sarcastic, +Laidback<</notify>>$C_name eyes lit up, as if $C_heshe had been waiting for you to bite.
“Oh, please,” $C_heshe shot back, voice oozing sarcasm. “Like you’re any better. You’re practically begging for attention, staring at everyone like you’re some sort of misunderstood protagonist in a low-budget indie film that only pretentious film bros like.”
You snorted. “You think too highly of yourself if you think I’d waste my time staring at you.”
$C_HeShe leaned in closer, the smirk on $C_hisher face growing even sharper, more challenging. “And yet, here you are. Engaging me. Again.”
“Maybe I just enjoy tearing apart your ridiculous attempts at conversation,” you retorted, crossing your arms as you held $C_hisher pale green gaze.
“Oh, is that what we’re calling it now? Tearing apart?” $C_heshe looked almost amused now, like this little verbal sparring match was more entertaining than whatever else was going on in the room. “You really do think you’re clever, don’t you?”
“Clever enough to know when someone’s desperate for my attention,” you quipped.
$C_name let out a low, bitter laugh. “Desperate? Please. If anything, you’re the one trying way too hard.”
“And yet, here you are,” you echoed $C_hisher earlier words back at $C_himher with a smirk. “Engaging me. Again.”
$C_HeShe glared, clearly not pleased by the turn of the conversation. But rather than admit defeat, $C_heshe rolled $C_hisher eyes dramatically and muttered, “Whatever.”
<<button "Next" "FD 8">><</button>>/*[[FD 8]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Aloof, + Uptight<</notify>>$C_name raised an eyebrow, clearly displeased by your lack of engagement. $C_HeShe thrived on reactions, on poking at people until they snapped or gave $C_himher something juicy to sink $C_hisher teeth into. You, however, were determined to give $C_himher nothing. Absolutely nothing.
“Oh, how exciting,” $C_heshe drawled, voice dripping with sarcasm. “The great $MC_firstname $MC_surname, exercising $hisher right to be boring. How revolutionary.”
You met $C_hisher gaze with a cool, unreadable stare. “Glad I could contribute to the cause.”
$C_HeShe seemed to bristle slightly, that ever-present smirk tightening into something more forced.
“You know,” $C_heshe continued, “for someone who’s supposedly so interesting, you’re really bad at holding a conversation at times.”
“I never said I was here to entertain you.”
$C_name let out a sharp, mocking laugh, eyes flashing with annoyance. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“And yet, here you are,” you replied evenly, refusing to let $C_hisher barbs sink in.
$C_HeShe stood there for a moment, clearly irritated by your calm, emotionless front. But rather than pushing further, $C_heshe huffed and turned away, muttering something under $C_hisher breath.
<<button "Next" "FD 8">><</button>>/*[[FD 8]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Shy<</notify>>You cringed internally the moment the words escaped. Out of all the responses you could’ve given, this was the one? $C_name's eyes widened for a beat, but the smug expression on $C_hisher face quickly returned, sharper than before.
“Oh?” $C_heshe drawled, leaning in closer. “Didn’t know I was your type.”
There was no way to recover from this, and you could feel the flush creeping up your neck, heating your face. You opened your mouth, but your voice failed you, caught somewhere between your embarrassment and the sudden intensity of $C_hisher chalcedony gaze.
$C_HeShe took another step forward, voice lowering. “Come on, you’re supposed to be smart. That’s the best you’ve got?”
You swallowed, the words feeling heavy in your throat. For a second, you caught a flicker of something on $C_hisher face—uncertainty?—but it was gone as fast as it appeared. Your cheeks burned, but you stood your ground, refusing to shrink back even though your heart pounded in your ears.
You try to shrug with exaggerated nonchalance. “Whatever. You seem awfully interested in what I’m doing.”
“You’re seriously delusional,” $C_name shot back, suddenly defensive. “Of all the people here, you think I’d waste my time with you?”
“Clearly you are,” you replied smoothly, patting yourself on the back for not ending up stuttering. “Or you wouldn’t be standing here talking to me.”
For a brief moment, $C_hisher face softened, the sharp edges dulling. But just as quickly, $C_heshe straightened $C_hisher posture, clearing $C_hisher throat as if to reset the tension. “You’re lucky I’m even wasting my breath on this.”
You let out a little squeak at that but $C_name seemed to be too focused on regaining $C_hisher composure to notice it.
<<button "Next" "FD 8">><</button>>/*[[FD 8]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Bold<</notify>>The corner of your mouth lifted in a smirk of your own as you refused to take $C_hisher bait. Instead, you let the words roll off your tongue easily, your voice light, playful. The second the question left your lips, you could see the flicker of surprise in $C_hisher chalcedony eyes, just for a moment, before $C_heshe quickly regained control.
“Oh, please,” $C_heshe scoffed, but the smirk wavered just enough to tell you that you’d thrown $C_himher off, even if only for a second. “As if you could handle it.”
Raising an eyebrow, you leaned in just a little. “You never know, maybe I’m exactly what you’ve been missing.”
$C_name rolled $C_hisher eyes dramatically, but you caught the faintest blush creeping up $C_hisher neck. It was subtle, but there. It was the smallest of victories, but you’d take it. For all $C_hisher biting remarks and icy demeanor, there was a part of $C_himher that wasn’t as invincible as $C_heshe liked to pretend.
“Keep dreaming,” $C_heshe muttered, the snark still there, though a little weaker now.
There was something softer beneath the surface of the biting retort, and though $C_heshe tried to hide it, you noticed. You didn’t push further. It wasn’t about winning the exchange, not really, but knowing that you’d chipped away at $C_hisher usual defenses—even just a little—felt like a quiet triumph.
<<button "Next" "FD 8">><</button>>/*[[FD 8]]*/$C_name suddenly got a particular glint in $C_hisher eyes, the kind that always signaled trouble. You knew that look all too well—it was the same one $C_heshe had when $C_heshe thought $C_heshe was the only one who knew all the answers to the surprise quizzes back in high school. This time, however, that look was directed at the dean.
“I’m going to introduce myself to the dean,” $C_heshe declared, already straightening $C_hisher posture, adjusting $C_hisher outfit. If nothing else, $C_name knew how to make an entrance.
You furrowed your brows, the warning bells in your head ringing. “Why?”
$C_HeShe shot you a condescending sneer that could slice through glass. “Because, my dear $MC_surname, I’ll make a good first impression. It’s called networking, you should try it sometime.”
“Oh no, you won’t,” you muttered under your breath as $C_name began strutting toward the dean and Professor Carstairs. Without missing a beat, you followed, fully aware that whatever this was going to be, it wasn’t going to end quietly.
When you reached the dean, $C_name was already halfway there, but you managed to close the gap just as $C_heshe reached Professor Carstairs and the dean of Rathore College.
“Ah, yes,” she greeted, her voice laced with a surprising slight fondness as her gaze flickered between you and $C_name. “I remember you, $MC_Mr. $MC_surname. And you—” She paused, turning to $C_name, “—$C_Mr. Lacroix. A pleasure to meet you both again.”
The dean’s gaze landed on the two of you, assessing, curious but polite.
“Well, it’s always wonderful to meet our bright young students,” he said, his tone gentle but with an edge of curiosity.
$C_name, of course, pounced on the opportunity before you could get a word in.
“Dean Shaw, it’s an honor to meet you,” $C_heshe began smoothly, offering a charming smile that looked suspiciously rehearsed. “I’ve heard so much about your work in restructuring the university’s international partnerships. It’s really remarkable how you’ve expanded opportunities for students abroad.”
You shot $C_name a side-eye, a mix of amusement and exasperation rising as $C_heshe continued to pour on the flattery. It was impressive, in a way—how $C_heshe could effortlessly turn on $C_hisher charm like a light bulb, when $C_heshe is usually as charming as a fresh roadkill around you.
Dean Shaw raised an eyebrow, clearly a bit taken aback by the enthusiasm, but he nodded. “Ah, yes. Well, it’s been a collaborative effort, of course.”
Not wanting to be outdone, you quickly stepped in, hoping to steer the conversation before $C_name could monopolize the entire interaction. “The international programs are fantastic, but I have to say, Dean Shaw, the new initiatives for student research have really transformed academic life on campus.” You gave a more earnest smile, aiming for authenticity rather than calculated charm. “It’s made an enormous difference for undergrads—giving us a real chance to contribute to groundbreaking work.”
$C_name shot you a glare, clearly displeased at your interruption. But you just smirked, feeling the tiniest spark of satisfaction at cutting $C_himher off mid-charm-offensive.
“Oh, research is vital,” Dean Shaw nodded, clearly impressed with both of your comments. “It’s what keeps Yale moving forward.”
Professor Carstairs, as opposed to the dean, looked like she was on the verge of getting a migraine.
$C_name, of course, wasn’t about to let you have the last word.
“Absolutely. And speaking of research,” $C_heshe jumped back in, “I worked on a project during high school that I think you’d find particularly intriguing, Dean. It’s related to the cultural exchanges you’ve facilitated in Europe, but with a focus on economical preservation across interdisciplinary fields.”
You nearly rolled your eyes, but bit back the snarky comment bubbling up. Of course, $C_heshe had found a way to drop the word “interdisciplinary,” just to sound more impressive.
“Well, I’m here for something <em>different</em>,” you said, injecting a bit more enthusiasm than necessary into your voice. “I’m hoping to be more of a, you know, ‘I’ll challenge the status quo’ kind of person.”
Dean Shaw raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Ah, someone who’s not afraid to shake things up. I like that.”
$C_name shot you another glare, $C_hisher lips twitching upward into another condescending grin. “I prefer to make meaningful, calculated change. Something lasting.”
“Meaningful, sure,” you countered, glancing at $C_himher. “But let’s not confuse calculated with cautious, shall we?”
“Oh, I’m never cautious,” $C_name said smoothly. “I just like to know what I’m doing.”
You smiled sweetly. “And I prefer to do things instead of talking about them endlessly.”
$C_name scoffed. “Ah, but some of us are equipped to deal with more... nuanced situations. I assume the dean appreciates intellect and strategy, not just recklessly blind ambitions.”
“Oh, strategy?” you shot back, eyes narrowing. “Is that what you call it when you spend all day calculating how many likes your Instagram posts will get?”
$C_name rolled $C_hisher eyes. “At least I can count that high.”
“Either way, I’m sure the dean is busy enough without having to hear your full dissertation,” you said, lightly elbowing $C_himher, flashing an apologetic smile at Dean Shaw, who raised a brow at whatever was going between the two of you. “What Lacroix is trying to say is that we’re all really grateful for the opportunities Yale provides us.”
$C_name gave you a dark look, clearly annoyed that you’d just turned $C_hisher self-aggrandizing moment into something a little more humble. But before $C_heshe could say anything, Dean Shaw chuckled.
“It’s like watching an old married couple bicker,” he said, his voice laced with amusement.
*[[You try not to shudder at the implication.|FD 9]]
*[[Immediately, your body feels like it’s being doused by warm water. [♥︎]|FD 9][$Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100), $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100), $C_romance to $C_romance+1, $option to 1]]
*[[While externally, you pretend that you’re disgusted by the idea, your insides turn weirdly jumpy for some reason. [♥︎]|FD 9][$C_romance to $C_romance+1, $C_oblivious to $C_oblivious+1, $option to 2]]
*<<link 'A sly smirk takes over your lips as you try to stifle the urge to tease $C_himher right at the moment. [♥︎]' "FD 9">><<set $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100); $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100); $C_romance to $C_romance+1; $option to 3>><</link>><<if $option is 1>><<notify 5s>>+ Shy<</notify>><<elseif $option is 2>><<notify 5s>>+ Oblivious<</notify>><<elseif $option is 3>><<notify 5s>>+ Bold<</notify>><</if>>The tips of $C_name’s ears visibly turned red at the comment, straightening $C_hisher posture as if to physically distance $C_himself from the implication.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” $C_heshe muttered, glaring at you.
You, on the other hand, try to push aside your initial feelings to make a good impression.
“Oh, we bicker all the time,” you said cheerfully, ignoring the embarrassed daggers $C_name was shooting at you with flaming cheeks. “But it’s all in good fun. Right, Lacroix?”
$C_HeShe gave you a tight-lipped smile, $C_hisher eyes promising retribution. “Absolutely, I just <em>love</em> these little... exchanges.”
“It’s certainly a delight,” Professor Carstairs muttered through gritted teeth as she pinched the bridge of her nose.
$C_name took a step closer to the dean, trying to reclaim some ground. “Dean Shaw, I’ve also been considering applying for the economics internship next semester. It would be a fantastic opportunity to expand my practical knowledge and gain real-world experience early on.”
You, not missing a beat, leaned in as well. “Funny you mention internships. I’ve actually been looking into undergrad research fellowships as well. I’m hoping to find many under Professor Carstairs' guidance.”
The aforementioned professor did not look like she was looking forward to that but she said nothing. The dean, however, was looking between the two of you like an amused spectator at a tennis match and he let out another chuckle.
“You’re both clearly very driven,” he said diplomatically. “Though I must say, you’ve given me quite the entertainment for the evening.”
Before $C_name could say anything else, you decided to add one last jab. “Well, we aim to please.”
$C_name gave you a glare that could melt steel, but before $C_heshe could snap back, Dean Shaw raised his hand, signaling the end of the conversation.
“Alright, alright,” he said with a smile. “No need to tear each other apart. It’s clear you’re both destined for great things. Just... maybe don’t kill each other on the way there.”
Professor Carstairs sighed deeply, clearly relieved that the exchange was coming to an end. “Yes, please. Let’s avoid that.”
You glanced at $C_name, a small victorious smirk on your lips. $C_name met your gaze with a narrowed look, but there was a flicker of amusement there, too. It was clear neither of you were quite willing to let the other walk away with the upper hand yet. But for now, at least, you’d called a truce—if only because you were both too stubborn to escalate the bickering in front of the dean.
<<button "Next" "FD 10">><</button>>/*[[FD 10]]*/<<notify>>Saved!<</notify>>After Dean Shaw and Professor Carstairs finished their conversation and disappeared into the sea of finely dressed people, $C_name turned toward you, an edge of annoyance already playing at the corners of $C_hisher lips.
“Do you just have to compete with me all the time, $MC_surname?” $C_name asked, arms crossed in a way that was less defensive and more performative, like a cat deliberately stretching out just to remind you who owned the room. $C_HisHer eyes, a brilliant flash of contempt, met you with a familiar, antagonistic fire.
You shrugged, hardly fazed by $C_hisher tone. “I had a feeling you’d be disappointed if I didn’t at least give you a run for your money.” There was a brief pause before you added, the corners of your lips curling in a grin, “Besides, didn’t you say I should try networking, too?”
The eye roll from $C_name was practically audible. “Networking doesn't mean staring at professors like a total creep.”
“I wasn’t staring, Lacroix.”
“You were gawking.”
“Was not.”
“You absolutely were,” $C_name shot back, leaning in ever so slightly, their voice lowered in that way it always did when $C_heshe was trying to pretend this whole conversation wasn’t entirely for the sake of public entertainment. “If you want to follow my lead and play the prodigal $MC_son and cozy up to the dean or the professors, do it without looking like a lost puppy, okay?”
You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Says the person who spends half these events silently judging everyone in the room.”
“Judging is just another form of observation,” $C_heshe shot back smoothly. “I’m very good at it. Which, by the way, you should be grateful for.”
You raised a brow. “Oh? And why’s that?”
$C_HeShe let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking $C_hisher head. “Because without me, you'd be stuck navigating this social minefield alone, and let’s face it—you’d get blown to bits.”
You chuckled softly, crossing your arms in response. “Right. Because your pompous ass is just so selfless, always there to save me from myself.”
$C_name looked you over, narrowing $C_hisher eyes. “Oh, absolutely. I mean, someone has to make sure you don’t embarrass yourself in front of the professors.”
Just then, the soft strains of music filled the air, signaling the start of the evening’s next phase. The dining hall, already a lavish scene of glinting chandeliers and polished marble floors, took on an even more elegant air as people began to rise from their seats, couples pairing off for the dance. You noticed the subtle shift in the room as voices lowered, eyes turned toward the center, and people began moving together in time to the music.
*[[Oh hell no, you’re getting out of here.|Ch 3 Ending 1][$Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100)]]
*<<link "You shoot $C_name a grin. Might as well have some fun (and annoy $C_himher) now that you’re here." "FD 11">><<set $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100); $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100); $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100); $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100); $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100); $C_friendship to $C_friendship+2>><</link>>/*[[FD 11]]*/
*<<link "While you won’t say it outright out of sheer embarrassment, you’re keeping your fingers-crossed that $C_name would ask you to dance. [♥︎]" "C Heart Event 1 Shy">><<set $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100), $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100); $C_romance to $C_romance+1>><</link>>/*[[C Heart Event 1 Shy]]*/
*<<link '“May I have this dance?” you asked, boldly, a flirty smirk already on your face as you’re looking at $C_name. [♥︎]' "C Heart Event 1 Bold">><<set $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100); $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100); $C_romance to $C_romance+1>><</link>>/*[[C Heart Event 1 Bold]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Uptight, + Sarcastic<</notify>>Without saying another word, you made a swift exit from the hall. The grand decor, the endless chatter, and especially the prickly presence of $C_name, it was all just too much for you. You couldn’t even pinpoint why you felt so out of place. Maybe it was the formality of it all, or maybe it was just the wrong night. Either way, dancing around was not how you wanted to spend the rest of your evening. As you stepped outside, the cool night air hit your skin, instantly relieving some of the tension from your shoulders.
You had barely taken a breath before you heard footsteps behind you.
“Hey,” $C_name called, clearly annoyed. “What the hell is up with you?”
You didn’t bother turning around, just kept walking, keeping your pace casual.
“I’ve had enough for the night,” you said, waving a hand over your shoulder, your voice light but tinged with irritation. “I’m gonna get some fresh air.”
“Right. Sure.” $C_name sounded unimpressed, but there was a tinge of concern underneath it all. “So, are you okay?”
You threw a glance back, meeting $C_hisher eyes briefly. “I will be.”
$C_HeShe didn’t follow you after that, but you could feel the weight of $C_hisher stare on your back until you disappeared into the shadows of the campus.
<<button "Next Chapter" "Ch 4.1.1">><<script>>
Dialog.setup("Content Warnings");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Ch 4 CW").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.1.1]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Laidback, + Friendly
+ Arrogant<</notify>>You stretched out in your seat, letting the silence between you grow before finally leaning in, elbows resting lazily on the table.
“You know,” you started, your voice casual but loud enough for $C_himher to hear over the low hum of the room. “It’s kind of a shame. We’re here, everyone’s dressed up—" you gestured to the array of people in their formals, gowns sweeping the floor, sharp suits flashing under the chandeliers—"and yet, you’re just sitting there all stiff. Shouldn’t we be having fun or something?”
$C_name didn’t even bother looking up from $C_hisher phone, $C_hisher eyes narrowing at whatever unimportant thing $C_heshe was scrolling through.
“I’m not here to have fun,” $C_heshe deadpanned, still scrolling like the conversation didn’t deserve $C_hisher full attention.
“Yeah, right,” you replied with a smirk, crossing your arms. “You’re just pretending not to enjoy this whole thing, but deep down? You’re dying to let loose.”
That got $C_himher. $C_name slowly dragged $C_hisher gaze from the screen, arching an unimpressed brow in your direction. $C_HisHer voice was as dry as the desert. “You’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, I know exactly what I’m talking about,” you shot back, now leaning fully into the game. “You act all tough, but everyone has a breaking point. And you?” You gave $C_himher a once-over, eyes twinkling. “You're definitely reaching yours.”
$C_HeShe scoffed, tossing $C_hisher phone onto the table in a way that said, <em>Fine, entertain me</em>. $C_HeShe leaned back, crossing $C_hisher arms over $C_hisher chest, $C_hisher eyes locking with yours in that way that always managed to feel like a challenge. “Go on, then. Let’s hear it. How am I, exactly, at my ‘breaking point’?”
You shrugged, knowing you had $C_hisher attention now. “Because you’re too... controlled. You’re sitting there, arms crossed, like you’re above all this. Like you’re watching the world happen from the outside. But I see you, Lacroix. I see how much you actually care about what everyone thinks of you, how much you want to appear like you don’t care.” You grinned, tapping your fingers on the table beside you, confident in your assessment. “But that’s exhausting, right? Wouldn’t it just be easier to... have fun?”
$C_name eyes flashed with something, annoyance maybe, but there was also a flicker of recognition. $C_HeShe didn’t like being read so easily, but $C_heshe wasn’t about to show it. Instead, $C_heshe leaned back even further in $C_hisher seat, looking at you like you were beneath $C_hisher interest, even though you could tell $C_heshe was intrigued. “Let me guess, you think you’re the one to make that happen?”
You smirked. “I’m just saying, it wouldn’t kill you to loosen up.”
“As if,” $C_heshe muttered, rolling $C_hisher eyes, though there was a faint twitch at the corner of $C_hisher mouth, like $C_heshe was fighting off a smile.
“Come on,” you teased, your voice lowering slightly as you leaned in. “Let’s dance. It’ll be fun.”
$C_name turned fully to you now, $C_hisher eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. “You want me to dance?”
“What? Afraid you’ll trip over your own feet?” you teased. “It’s just one dance. It’s not like I’m asking you to marry me.”
“Trust me, that’s never going to be on the table,” $C_name shot back, but this time, there was no mistaking the hint of amusement in $C_hisher voice. $C_HeShe was enjoying this. You were sure of it now.
You shrugged, unbothered. “One dance, and I promise I’ll stop annoying you for the rest of the night.”
$C_HeShe considered you for a moment, $C_hisher eyes scanning your face like $C_heshe was trying to decide whether you were serious or just screwing with $C_himher. Finally, $C_heshe sighed—dramatically, of course—and stood up. “Fine. But if I step on your toes, it’s your fault for making me do this.”
“Deal,” you grinned, leading the way toward the dance floor.
The room was now dimly lit, the music soft and slow, a gentle sway of string instruments filling the space as you found a spot among the other couples. You turned to face $C_himher, offering your hand in a way that was half playful, half genuine. $C_HeShe stared at it for a second before reluctantly taking it, $C_hisher touch cool against your palm.
You both started moving to the rhythm, and to your surprise, $C_name wasn’t half bad. $C_HeShe was stiff at first, but gradually, as the music carried you both, $C_heshe loosened up, $C_hisher movements becoming more fluid, more natural. $C_HisHer usual edgy gaze softened just slightly, the constant walls around $C_himher lowering enough for you to see glimpses of the person $C_heshe tried so hard to hide.
“You know,” you said in a whisper, “you’re not a terrible dancer.”
“Don’t get used to it,” $C_heshe replied, though the corner of $C_hisher mouth twitched upwards.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” you shot back with a smirk.
The two of you danced in silence for a while longer, the air between you charged with an atmosphere that wasn’t exactly fully chummy, but it wasn’t hostile either. It felt like a step toward a friendly tolerance, even if only for tonight. And for now, that was enough.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3 Ending 4">><</button>>/*[[Ch 3 Ending 4]]*/<<audio "CH1Dance" loop play>><<notify 5s>>+ Shy<</notify>>You shifted nervously in your seat, your fingers fiddling with the edge of a napkin as you took a seat and your gaze darted around the room, deliberately avoiding one spot. Or rather, one person. Because it was becoming more and more apparent, to your own mortification, that you’d been glancing over at $C_name—far more than was casual, far more than you’d like to admit.
It wasn’t that you wanted to dance with $C_himher—not in the obvious, make-your-heart-race, butterflies-in-your-stomach kind of way. No, you were far too sensible for that. Or at least, you told yourself that. But there was something... something about $C_hisher posture, the way $C_heshe casually sat down beside you in $C_hisher seat, that made it impossible to ignore.
Still, you wouldn’t say it. Not even to yourself. Too embarrassing. Way too embarrassing.
You bit your lip and took another sip of a Pepsi that you had swiped from a passing server, praying that the faint warmth creeping up your neck wasn’t as obvious as it felt.
$C_name was sitting a little too close for comfort now, right at the edge of your peripheral vision. You glanced at $C_himher briefly, only to catch a fleeting, awkward gesture as $C_heshe cleared $C_hisher throat. It wasn’t the usual sneer or sharp-witted comment you’d come to expect from $C_himher; instead, $C_heshe seemed... unsure.
“Do you—” $C_heshe started, looking like $C_heshe was having trouble even getting the words out. The bold, unbothered expression $C_name usually wore was replaced by an emotion which was almost—dare you say—nervous. “Do you want to dance or something?”
<em>Wait. What?</em>
You blinked, caught completely off guard. That hadn’t been what you were expecting at all. Had the universe been listening to you after all? The question felt almost unreal, like maybe you’d misheard.
“Wait... did you just ask me to—”
“If you make me repeat myself, I’m leaving,” $C_name interjected, the usual edge of snarkiness creeping back into $C_hisher voice. It seemed to make $C_himher more comfortable, but you could still see the trace of hesitation, the slight stiffness in $C_hisher posture, like even asking had been more effort than $C_heshe would ever admit to. “So... yes or no? Before I change my mind.”
For a second, all you could do was stare, your heart suddenly racing for reasons that had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with the fact that $C_name—grumpy, too-cool-for-anything, your never-ending crush since high school $C_name—was asking you to dance. With a terrible amount of awkwardness, but still.
You felt your lips twitch into something resembling a grin, even as you tried to suppress it. The slight heat rising to your cheeks was betraying your attempt to stay cool.
“Yeah,” you managed to say, your voice coming out way softer than you intended. “I mean... yeah, sure. Let’s dance.”
$C_name raised an eyebrow, as though surprised you’d actually agreed, but didn’t say anything else. Instead, $C_heshe nodded and turned toward the floor, and before you knew it, you were being led through the thinning crowd, feeling the weight of $C_hisher presence more than the noise or music around you.
You wondered briefly if this was some kind of elaborate setup, another opportunity for $C_himher to needle you with something sarcastic later. But that didn’t feel right. Not now, with the strange, almost vulnerable energy $C_name was giving off.
As you reached the center of the floor, $C_heshe stopped, turning toward you with a confidence that looked as though it had been patched together at the last minute. The music wasn’t fast, but it wasn’t slow either—a sort of in-between tempo that could make for a casual sway or a complicated rhythm, depending on how you approached it.
You hesitated, unsure whether to place your hands on $C_hisher shoulders or $C_hisher waist or keep them awkwardly at your sides.
*<<link 'You eventually decided to place your hands on $C_hisher shoulders. [♥︎]' "CH1 Shy 1.1">><<set $C_romance to $C_romance+1>><</link>>/*[[CH1 Shy 1.1]]*/
*<<link 'You eventually decided to place your hands on $C_hisher waist. [♥︎]' "CH1 Shy 1.2">><<set $C_romance to $C_romance+1>><</link>>/*[[CH1 Shy 1.2]]*/<<audio "CH1Dance" loop play>><<notify 5s>>+ Bold<</notify>>For a split second, $C_name’s composure shattered. $C_HisHer eyes widened, and $C_hisher mouth parted as though $C_heshe was going to say something, but nothing came out. You could see the color creeping up $C_hisher neck, a soft pink flush spreading over $C_hisher cheeks. $C_HeShe blinked rapidly, like $C_heshe hadn’t quite processed what you’d just asked.
“W-What?” $C_name stammered, $C_hisher voice catching awkwardly. $C_HeShe glanced around, as if searching for an escape, before $C_hisher gaze snapped back to yours. “You’re kidding, right?”
You tilted your head, a playful smile on your lips. “Didn’t hear a no.”
$C_name glared at you, but the usual sharpness was missing. Instead, $C_heshe looked almost... flustered, thrown off-kilter in a way you hadn’t seen before. $C_HisHer arms tightened defensively across $C_hisher chest, and for a moment, you thought $C_heshe might walk away. But then, with a deep breath and a muttered, “You can’t just ask me like that out of nowhere,” $C_heshe reached out $C_hisher hand. It was stiff, awkward, but the fact that $C_heshe extended it at all was enough to make you smirk.
“Fine,” $C_heshe grumbled, $C_hisher face flushed as $C_heshe tried to recover some semblance of $C_hisher usual nonchalance. “But don’t expect me to enjoy this.”
You took $C_hisher hand, suppressing the urge to laugh at how awkwardly $C_heshe offered it, $C_hisher grip tighter than necessary, like $C_heshe was still trying to maintain control. $C_name’s palm was warm, and when your fingers brushed, you felt the faintest tremor in $C_hisher touch, betraying just how nervous $C_heshe actually was.
Leading $C_himher onto the dance floor, you couldn’t help but notice how $C_hisher posture became even more rigid. $C_HisHer hand in yours felt like it belonged to someone bracing for impact rather than someone enjoying a dance, and $C_hisher chalcedony green eyes flicked everywhere but at you. The tension was thick between you, making the first few steps clumsy. $C_HisHer foot brushed against yours more than once, and each time, $C_hisher face flushed deeper, though $C_heshe said nothing.
*<<link 'You eventually decided to place your hands on $C_hisher shoulders. [♥︎]' "CH1 Bold 1.1">><<set $C_romance to $C_romance+1>><</link>>/*[[CH1 Bold 1.1]]*/
*<<link 'You eventually decided to place your hands on $C_hisher waist. [♥︎]' "CH1 Bold 1.2">><<set $C_romance to $C_romance+1>><</link>>/*[[CH1 Bold 1.2]]*/$C_name wrapped $C_hisher arms around your waist and slightly pulled you closer, a soft scoff leaving $C_hisher lips.
“Relax,” $C_heshe muttered, glancing away briefly as though embarrassed by the proximity. “It’s just a dance, not a binding contract.”
“Right,” you agreed, but the closeness made your skin tingle with awareness. The music filled the spaces between you, both a comfort and an amplifier to the quiet tension building.
The first few seconds were awkward, stiff, as if neither of you really knew where to put your feet or what to do with your hands. But then the music guided you, a slow pulse that synced with your heartbeat, and you found a rhythm that fit. The world around you seemed to shrink until it was just you and $C_name, swaying slightly to the music, the rest of the room fading into a blur of sound and color.
$C_HeShe still wasn’t looking at you directly, but you could feel $C_hisher eyes on you, in the way $C_hisher grip on your waist lingered just a fraction longer than necessary, in the way $C_hisher breath hitched whenever you moved a little too close. You weren’t sure whether $C_heshe was more uncomfortable with the physical proximity or with the fact that this felt more intimate than either of you were willing to admit.
“So,” $C_name said after a beat, as though desperate to break the silence that was becoming too much. “Do you usually stare at people like that, or is it just me?”
You blinked, taken aback. “What?”
“You were staring at me earlier,” $C_heshe replied, $C_hisher voice teasing, but there was something more behind it, something you couldn’t quite place. “I mean, if you’re gonna do that, at least be less obvious.”
You felt your face flush with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. “I wasn’t—”
“Oh, you definitely were.” There was that familiar smirk, that edge of arrogance returning, but it was softer now, almost like $C_heshe was using it as a defense mechanism. “Not that I blame you.”
“I wasn’t staring,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes, but the flustered tone of your voice betrayed you. “I was just... thinking.”
“About how impressive I am, no doubt.” $C_name quirked an eyebrow, though $C_hisher expression was still hard to read. It was like $C_heshe was testing you, prodding you for a reaction to that.
“Sure,” you replied, but it didn’t come off as dismissively as you’d intended, the growing red tint to $C_hisher cheeks a proof of that. There was an undeniable warmth spreading through your chest at the sight of that.
For a moment, neither of you said anything, the tension between banter and an unspoken emotion hovering in the air. The music kept playing, the world kept spinning, but it felt like the two of you were standing still, caught in something neither of you were ready to define.
<div id="centered">[[“You have beautiful eyes,” you blurted out before you could think it through.|CH1 POV]]</div>$C_name wrapped $C_hisher arms around your shoulders and slightly pulled you closer, a soft scoff leaving $C_hisher lips.
“Relax,” $C_heshe muttered, glancing away briefly as though embarrassed by the proximity. “It’s just a dance, not a binding contract.”
“Right,” you agreed, but the closeness made your skin tingle with awareness. The music filled the spaces between you, both a comfort and an amplifier to the quiet tension building.
The first few seconds were awkward, stiff, as if neither of you really knew where to put your feet or what to do with your hands. But then the music guided you, a slow pulse that synced with your heartbeat, and you found a rhythm that fit. The world around you seemed to shrink until it was just you and $C_name, swaying slightly to the music, the rest of the room fading into a blur of sound and color.
$C_HeShe still wasn’t looking at you directly, but you could feel $C_hisher eyes on you, in the way $C_hisher grip on your shoulders lingered just a fraction longer than necessary, in the way $C_hisher breath hitched whenever you moved a little too close. You weren’t sure whether $C_heshe was more uncomfortable with the physical proximity or with the fact that this felt more intimate than either of you were willing to admit.
“So,” $C_name said after a beat, as though desperate to break the silence that was becoming too much. “Do you usually stare at people like that, or is it just me?”
You blinked, taken aback. “What?”
“You were staring at me earlier,” $C_heshe replied, $C_hisher voice teasing, but there was something more behind it, something you couldn’t quite place. “I mean, if you’re gonna do that, at least be less obvious.”
You felt your face flush with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. “I wasn’t—”
“Oh, you definitely were.” There was that familiar smirk, that edge of arrogance returning, but it was softer now, almost like $C_heshe was using it as a defense mechanism. “Not that I blame you.”
“I wasn’t staring,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes, but the flustered tone of your voice betrayed you. “I was just... thinking.”
“About how impressive I am, no doubt.” $C_name quirked an eyebrow, though $C_hisher expression was still hard to read. It was like $C_heshe was testing you, prodding you for a reaction to that.
“Sure,” you replied, but it didn’t come off as dismissively as you’d intended, the growing red tint to $C_hisher cheeks a proof of that. There was an undeniable warmth spreading through your chest at the sight of that.
For a moment, neither of you said anything, the tension between banter and an unspoken emotion hovering in the air. The music kept playing, the world kept spinning, but it felt like the two of you were standing still, caught in something neither of you were ready to define.
<div id="centered">[[“You have beautiful eyes,” you blurted out before you could think it through.|CH1 POV]]</div><em><strong><u>$C_name’s POV</u></strong></em>
The moment the words left $MC_firstname's mouth, the world slowed down, and everything around $C_name turned into a muffled blur, like $C_heshe’d been shoved underwater. All $C_heshe could hear—over the soft hum of the music, over the steady rhythm of $C_hisher own heartbeat—were those four words.
<strong>“You have beautiful eyes.”</strong>
At first, $C_heshe wondered if $C_heshe'd heard wrong, if maybe the music was distorting what $MC_firstname had actually said. But then $C_heshe looked up, and the look on $hisher face hit $C_himher harder than the words themselves. It wasn’t a joke. Not a casual, throwaway comment. There was a weight behind them, a certainty, and $MC_firstname was staring at $C_himher like that single observation had unlocked something long kept in the shadows. Like $heshe <<were>> waiting for $C_name to catch up, to see what $C_heshe'd already laid bare.
$C_name’s gut twisted. $C_HisHer skin prickled under the heat of $MC_firstname's steady $MC_eyecolor gaze, $C_hisher whole body reacting like it had been set on fire. It wasn’t even the words themselves, it was what they carried—an unbearable intimacy, something too soft, too raw to be aimed at someone like $C_himher. $C_name wasn’t used to being spoken to like that. Not in a way that stripped $C_himher down so easily, peeled back the layers $C_heshe’d spent years building up.
$C_HisHer mind scrambled for a response, anything to shove the weight of this moment off $C_hisher chest. But all $C_heshe could manage was a stilted, cutting, “What are you—”
$C_HeShe was cut off by the sudden ache in $C_hisher own voice, that tremor $C_heshe didn’t mean to let slip. The second it came out, $C_heshe knew it was too late. $MC_firstname had heard it too, and now those earnest $MC_eyecolor eyes were softening, understanding $C_name deeper than the words between them.
“I’ve always thought that,” $MC_firstname said, $hisher voice a little quieter now, but there was no hesitation. No retreat. $C_name could feel $C_hisher stomach drop. $MC_firstname was going off on autopilot. The honesty in $hisher tone was almost painful.
“In high school, as well,” $MC_firstname continued, almost as if $heshe were talking to $himself now, piecing together a thought that had been quietly living inside $himher all these years. There was something in the way $MC_firstname said it that made it clear this wasn’t some passing comment, not just a fleeting observation.
$C_name tried to breathe, but $C_hisher chest felt tight, like the room was getting smaller.
“I used to think your eyes were beautiful,” $MC_firstname said, the words a bit more tentative now, like $heshe <<were>> stepping into territory neither of them had walked before. “But they were sad, too. Like a song I heard when I was a kid and forgot about until I heard it again.”
$C_name’s heart thudded heavily in $C_hisher chest, loud and painful, as though $C_hisher body was trying to hammer out the thing lodged in $C_hisher throat. $C_HeShe couldn’t look at $MC_firstname now, not directly. $C_HeShe couldn’t face the quiet truth in those words. It was too much—$MC_firstname was seeing too much. How was it possible to feel so exposed, so seen, and yet so small in the space of one conversation? $C_name clenched $C_hisher jaw, staring at the ground, $C_hisher breath coming out a little too fast, a little too uneven.
Sad. The word reverberated through $C_himher like a haunting echo, striking at a part of $C_himher $C_heshe never wanted anyone to notice, much less name. $MC_firstname wasn’t supposed to see that. Not that part of $C_himher. Not the part $C_heshe kept hidden behind anger and biting quips, behind the insults that made $C_himher untouchable. But there it was, out in the open, like some old wound suddenly uncovered in the light. It made $C_hisher skin crawl, and $C_hisher pulse quicken, like $C_heshe needed to bolt from the room or crawl out of $C_hisher own body to escape it.
$MC_firstname wasn’t supposed to look at $C_himher like that. $HeShe <<were>>n’t supposed to unearth all these old, buried things.
$C_HisHer hands itched, clenched into fists as $C_heshe tried to ground $C_himself in something, anything, to shake the rising tide of feelings clawing at $C_hisher insides. $C_HisHer mind was swirling in a thousand directions at once, trying to process the simple fact that $MC_firstname had seen something in $C_himher—had always seen something in $C_himher—that $C_heshe hadn’t even let $C_himself see.
There it was. Beautiful and sad. Like a forgotten song.
$C_name felt trapped between wanting to tear the words apart, dismiss them with some cutting remark, and the unbearable truth that they were sticking to $C_himher, burrowing into the deepest parts of $C_himher. $C_HeShe could feel them weaving through the walls $C_heshe’d built, shoving open doors $C_heshe’d sealed shut. $C_HeShe couldn’t shake the thought that $MC_firstname wasn’t just talking about $C_hisher eyes, but everything else too. All the things $C_heshe tried to lock away, the things that kept $C_himher up at night when everything went quiet and there was no one around to distract $C_himher from $C_himself.
The sudden weight of it all made $C_hisher head spin. $C_HeShe needed to get out. $C_HeShe needed to breathe, to be anywhere but here, under the relentless light of $MC_firstname’s gaze.
“Thanks," $C_name said finally, the word scraping out of $C_himher rough, as if it had been forced out. It wasn’t gratitude. It was more like self-preservation, a blunt stop to a conversation that had dug too deep, too fast.
$C_HeShe barely caught the flicker of confusion in $MC_firstname's expression before $C_heshe turned on $C_hisher heel. $C_HeShe didn’t want to stay long enough for $MC_firstname to push further, to peel away more layers. $C_HeShe didn’t want to give $himher a chance to see how badly this was getting to $C_himher—how $C_hisher chest was tightening, $C_hisher heart racing, and how every ounce of control was slipping out of $C_hisher grasp.
As $C_name stepped away, $C_hisher mind was a whirl of contradictions. $C_HeShe didn’t want to leave. Not really. There was a part of $C_himher that wanted to stay, to let $MC_firstname say more, to hear what else $heshe’d always thought. But that part was dangerous, reckless. That part was the one that had gotten $C_himher in trouble in the first place, the part $C_heshe’d worked so hard to bury.
But God, if $C_heshe didn’t walk away now, $C_heshe wasn’t sure what else would come tumbling out of $C_hisher chest, spilling all over the floor between them. $C_HeShe couldn’t handle that—not now, not with $MC_firstname’s siren-like eyes softening the way they had, making $C_himher feel like $C_heshe was on the verge of unraveling completely.
As $C_name left, $C_hisher throat tightened, and $C_hisher hands trembled. $C_HeShe could feel the words lingering between them, the ones $MC_firstname had said, but also the ones $C_heshe hadn’t. $C_HeShe couldn’t bear to look back, couldn’t let $MC_firstname see how much $C_hisher eyes had softened in return, how much more of $C_hisher heart had cracked open than $C_heshe could afford.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3 Ending 2">><</button>>/*[[Ch 3 Ending 2]]*/“You don’t have to act like you’re being led to your doom,” you teased, leaning in a little as you guided the steps. “It’s just a dance.”
“I’m not—acting like anything,” $C_name shot back, but $C_hisher voice was lower now, almost mumbled. $C_HisHer grip on your waist shifted slightly, and $C_heshe glanced down, looking almost embarrassed by how stiff $C_heshe was. “You just caught me off guard.”
You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Caught off guard? You? I didn’t think anything could surprise you, Lacroix.”
$C_name huffed, a little louder than necessary, $C_hisher eyes flicking up to meet yours briefly before darting away again.
“Don’t go along and flame your own ego even more,” $C_heshe muttered, but the usual venom in $C_hisher tone was gone, replaced by something softer, more uncertain. “I just didn’t expect you to... ask like that.”
The music swelled around you, the other dancers becoming a blur of color and motion as you both fell into an unsteady rhythm. $C_HisHer gaze kept flickering to yours, then away again, as if holding your eyes for too long might unravel whatever composure $C_heshe had left. But there was something else there, too, beneath the awkwardness and defensiveness—a vulnerability $C_heshe was desperately trying to hide. You could feel it in the way $C_hisher hand lingered at your back, the warmth of $C_hisher fingers a stark contrast to the stiffness of $C_hisher posture.
As the dance went on, $C_name seemed to relax, if only a little. $C_HisHer movements were still awkward, but $C_hisher grip on your hand softened, and you caught $C_himher stealing glances at you more than once. $C_HisHer cheeks were still flushed, and the tension in $C_hisher shoulders hadn’t fully eased, but the sharp edges of $C_hisher usual arrogance had smoothed out, leaving something more fragile in its place.
“You’re not so bad at this,” you said, keeping your voice light as the waltz carried you through the room.
$C_HeShe scoffed, but there was no real bite to it.
“Don’t get too comfortable with it,” $C_heshe muttered, though $C_hisher voice had lost its earlier defensiveness.
You grinned, letting the music pull you both along, feeling the space between you shift from combative to something quieter, more intimate. The tension that had crackled in the air was still there, but now it felt like something unsaid, hanging just out of reach between the two of you.
<div id="centered">[[“You have beautiful eyes,” you blurted out before you could think it through.|CH1 POV]]</div>“You don’t have to act like you’re being led to your doom,” you teased, leaning in a little as you guided the steps. “It’s just a dance.”
“I’m not—acting like anything,” $C_name shot back, but $C_hisher voice was lower now, almost mumbled. $C_HisHer grip on your shoulders shifted slightly, and $C_heshe glanced down, looking almost embarrassed by how stiff $C_heshe was. “You just caught me off guard.”
You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Caught off guard? You? I didn’t think anything could surprise you, Lacroix.”
$C_name huffed, a little louder than necessary, $C_hisher eyes flicking up to meet yours briefly before darting away again.
“Don’t go along and flame your own ego even more,” $C_heshe muttered, but the usual venom in $C_hisher tone was gone, replaced by something softer, more uncertain. “I just didn’t expect you to... ask like that.”
The music swelled around you, the other dancers becoming a blur of color and motion as you both fell into an unsteady rhythm. $C_HisHer gaze kept flickering to yours, then away again, as if holding your eyes for too long might unravel whatever composure $C_heshe had left. But there was something else there, too, beneath the awkwardness and defensiveness—a vulnerability $C_heshe was desperately trying to hide. You could feel it in the way $C_hisher hand lingered at your back, the warmth of $C_hisher fingers a stark contrast to the stiffness of $C_hisher posture.
As the dance went on, $C_name seemed to relax, if only a little. $C_HisHer movements were still awkward, but $C_hisher grip on your hand softened, and you caught $C_himher stealing glances at you more than once. $C_HisHer cheeks were still flushed, and the tension in $C_hisher shoulders hadn’t fully eased, but the sharp edges of $C_hisher usual arrogance had smoothed out, leaving something more fragile in its place.
“You’re not so bad at this,” you said, keeping your voice light as the waltz carried you through the room.
$C_HeShe scoffed, but there was no real bite to it.
“Don’t get too comfortable with it,” $C_heshe muttered, though $C_hisher voice had lost its earlier defensiveness.
You grinned, letting the music pull you both along, feeling the space between you shift from combative to something quieter, more intimate. The tension that had crackled in the air was still there, but now it felt like something unsaid, hanging just out of reach between the two of you.
<div id="centered">[[“You have beautiful eyes,” you blurted out before you could think it through.|CH1 POV]]</div><<audio "CH1Dance" fadeoverto 15 0>>You were left standing there, confusion and disappointment raking in your gut as you watched the retreating figure of $C_name. You figured that $C_heshe was going back to $C_hisher suite but you didn’t feel like going back just yet. Besides, you didn’t think that $C_name would appreciate you following $C_himher to $C_hisher room.
So you quickly made an exit to get some fresh air, the music becoming faint behind you. As you stepped outside, the cool night air hit your skin, instantly relieving some of the tension from your shoulders.
It was time to take a walk.
<<button "Next Chapter" "Ch 4.1.1">><<script>>
Dialog.setup("Content Warnings");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Ch 4 CW").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.1.1]]*/The streets of New Haven had the cool edge of fall to them, a breeze that carried the lingering scent of rain from the night before, mingled with fresh coffee and the dry crispness of autumn leaves. As you walked, the faint sunlight flickered between the trees, casting long, dappled shadows across the sidewalk.
Your mind, however, wasn’t really on them—it was stuck on the impending shopping trip. $C_name. The passive-aggressive comments. The inevitable digs. You could already hear $C_hisher voice in your head, sharp and knowing, pointing out every flaw before you even had a chance to speak. But there was no turning back now, not unless you wanted to risk walking into Blackthorne’s formal dinner looking like a complete mess. It’s not like your dad’s butler could be here in the snap of a finger and fix everything.
As you reached Donut Haven, the small, glass-fronted shop came into view, its warm light spilling onto the sidewalk. Inside, the place was already packed with the morning crowd, and through the window, you could make out $C_name at a corner table, phone in hand, scrolling with the kind of idle boredom only $C_heshe could pull off so effortlessly.
<<if $C_gender is "male">>You paused for a second outside, your eyes drifting over him, taking in his carefully curated outfit. A sharp navy blazer over a crisp white shirt with just a hint of a sheen, the collar open at the throat, sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the silver band of his Rolex. Slim-cut trousers completed the look, the dark fabric perfectly tailored, tapering at his ankles above polished leather shoes. It was casual, sure, but it was the kind of casual that you’d seen Wall Street finance bros wear.<<else>>You paused for a second outside, your eyes drifting over her, taking in her carefully curated outfit. A tailored black blazer worn loosely over a fitted turtleneck, with high-waisted trousers that flowed with every movement and black ankle boots that added just enough height to tower over most people around her. Her dark brown hair was tied back into a low, messy ponytail, but the messiness felt deliberate, as if it had taken real effort to make it seem effortless.<</if>>
For a brief second, you thought you saw something like surprise flash across $C_hisher face when $C_heshe spotted you, but $C_heshe quickly replaced it with a cool expression as $C_heshe stood from $C_hisher seat, grabbing $C_hisher coffee in one hand.
“At least you were punctual today,” $C_name muttered as you approached, the edge in $C_hisher voice unmistakable, though $C_hisher eyes flicked over you with a hint of approval, as if you’d passed some unspoken test. “Wasn’t sure you’d manage.”
“Well, it’s not like I want to keep you waiting,” you shot back, though the attempt at lightness didn’t quite reach your voice. “Wouldn’t want you to suffer longer than necessary.”
$C_HeShe raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of $C_hisher mouth. “I suppose that’s the best I can expect from you, $MC_surname.” Without further comment, $C_heshe turned, already heading for the door. “Let’s get this over with, then.”
<<button "Next" "C outfit 2">><</button>>
/*[[C outfit 2]]*/The walk to The Velvet Stitch wasn’t long, but it felt longer than it should have, considering the constant commentary coming from $C_name. The streets around you were a blend of old Yale charm—brick buildings with ivy creeping up the walls—and the modern bustle of New Haven’s more eclectic shops and cafés. But none of it registered fully; your focus remained on the sharp quips $C_name tossed your way, always cutting a little too close to the bone.
“I still can’t believe you waited this long to sort this out,” $C_heshe said as you passed a sleek, minimalist clothing store. “What were you planning on wearing? Whatever crumpled thing you found on your chair? Are you that eager to embarrass the entire floor?”
“Relax,” you muttered, already getting a migraine from $C_hisher nagging. “I just didn’t know that the dinner would be held so soon. I didn’t have time to prepare, okay?
$C_HeShe scoffed softly, shooting you a sidelong glance. “Clearly. But try not to make that more obvious than it already is.”
*[[You snapped back: “I was actually planning to wear the same outfit I’ll wear to your funeral. But, you know, still figuring out if I should go for black or just dance on your grave in something more festive.”|C outfit 3.1][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[You bit your tongue, trying not to let the constant barrage of comments get under your skin.|C outfit 3.2][$Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100)]]
*<<link 'You forced a smile, shaking your head as you waved off $C_hisher latest jab. “Yeah, sure. I’m just saving all my crumpled floor outfits for special occasions.”' "C outfit 3.3">><<set $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100); $C_friendship to $C_friendship+2>><</link>>/*[[C outfit 3.3]]*/
*[[You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Look, I get it. I should’ve planned this out sooner, okay? My bad.”|C outfit 3.4][$Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100)]]<<notify 5s>>+ Sarcastic<</notify>>$C_HeShe looked at you, mildly impressed. “Cute. Real mature.”
“I’m honored you think so,” you replied swiftly with a hand to your heart which made $C_himher roll $C_hisher eyes.
When you finally reached The Velvet Stitch, its gleaming storefront loomed before you, all glass and polished wood, with the kind of understated luxury that spoke of price tags that’d send an average middle-class person into a coma. The employee who welcomed you in gave you two a weird look. Probably catching up on the tension radiating off of you both.
$C_name wasted no time, striding in like $C_heshe owned the place, fingers immediately running over a rack of outfits.
“Let’s start simple,” $C_heshe said, pulling a random charcoal-gray outfit from the rack, eyeing it critically before handing it to you. “You’re… not going to ruin this one, are you?”
You took it with a roll of your eyes, muttering under your breath. “Can’t wait for this to be over.”
$C_name smirked, crossing $C_hisher arms and leaning back slightly, watching you with that same look $C_heshe always had—like $C_heshe was three steps ahead of everyone else, always a little more aware of things than they ever were. And the only one who escaped being left behind was you.
“Don’t worry, $MC_starboy,” $C_heshe said, voice dripping with dry amusement. “The feeling’s mutual.”
$C_HeShe turned away and quickly started looking through the options before reappearing again. “Alright, I’ve narrowed it down to these.”
You checked them out:
*[[Classic Black Tuxedo with Velvet Lapel|C outfit 3][$formalwear to "Classic Black Tuxedo with Velvet Lapel", $clothes to "tux"]]
*[[Midnight Navy Suit with a Slim Fit|C outfit 3][$formalwear to "Midnight Navy Suit with a Slim Fit", $clothes to "suit"]]
*[[Satin Midnight Blue Gown with a Plunging Neckline|C outfit 3][$formalwear to "Satin Midnight Blue Gown with a Plunging Neckline", $clothes to "gown"]]
*[[Crimson Red Off-Shoulder Dress with a Cinched Waist|C outfit 3][$formalwear to "Crimson Red Off-Shoulder Dress with a Cinched Waist", $clothes to "dress"]]
*[[Dark Green Velvet Suit with Cropped Trousers|C outfit 3][$formalwear to "Dark Green Velvet Suit with Cropped Trousers", $clothes to "suit"]]
*[[Black Double-Breasted Blazer with Wide Leg Trousers|C outfit 3][$formalwear to "Black Double-Breasted Blazer with Wide Leg Trousers", $clothes to "blazer"]]<<notify 5s>>+ Aloof<</notify>>$C_name's voice felt like needles poking at the last threads of your patience, but you swallowed it down, focusing on keeping your expression neutral. Your hands balled into fists inside your jacket pockets, the fabric brushing against your knuckles as you walked.
$C_heshe glanced over, eyebrows raised as though noticing your silence. “What, no snappy retort?”
You inhaled slowly, letting out a low exhale through your nose. “I’m just… trying not to fight in the middle of the sidewalks.”
When you finally reached The Velvet Stitch, its gleaming storefront loomed before you, all glass and polished wood, with the kind of understated luxury that spoke of price tags that’d send an average middle-class person into a coma. The employee who welcomed you in gave you two a weird look. Probably catching up on the tension radiating off of you both.
$C_name wasted no time, striding in like $C_heshe owned the place, fingers immediately running over a rack of outfits.
“Let’s start simple,” $C_heshe said, pulling a random charcoal-gray outfit from the rack, eyeing it critically before handing it to you. “You’re… not going to ruin this one, are you?”
You took it with a roll of your eyes, muttering under your breath. “Can’t wait for this to be over.”
$C_name smirked, crossing $C_hisher arms and leaning back slightly, watching you with that same look $C_heshe always had—like $C_heshe was three steps ahead of everyone else, always a little more aware of things than they ever were. And the only one who escaped being left behind was you.
“Don’t worry, $MC_starboy,” $C_heshe said, voice dripping with dry amusement. “The feeling’s mutual.”
$C_HeShe turned away and quickly started looking through the options before reappearing again. “Alright, I’ve narrowed it down to these.”
You checked them out:
*[[Classic Black Tuxedo with Velvet Lapel|C outfit 3][$formalwear to "Classic Black Tuxedo with Velvet Lapel", $clothes to "tux"]]
*[[Midnight Navy Suit with a Slim Fit|C outfit 3][$formalwear to "Midnight Navy Suit with a Slim Fit", $clothes to "suit"]]
*[[Satin Midnight Blue Gown with a Plunging Neckline|C outfit 3][$formalwear to "Satin Midnight Blue Gown with a Plunging Neckline", $clothes to "gown"]]
*[[Crimson Red Off-Shoulder Dress with a Cinched Waist|C outfit 3][$formalwear to "Crimson Red Off-Shoulder Dress with a Cinched Waist", $clothes to "dress"]]
*[[Dark Green Velvet Suit with Cropped Trousers|C outfit 3][$formalwear to "Dark Green Velvet Suit with Cropped Trousers", $clothes to "suit"]]
*[[Black Double-Breasted Blazer with Wide Leg Trousers|C outfit 3][$formalwear to "Black Double-Breasted Blazer with Wide Leg Trousers", $clothes to "blazer"]]<<notify 5s>>+ Genuine<</notify>>$C_HeShe huffed, clearly not ready to let you off the hook so easily. “Just don’t make it a habit. People are actually going to expect you to look decent at this thing.”
You threw your hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Lesson learned. I’ll be a functioning young adult next time, promise.”
When you finally reached The Velvet Stitch, its gleaming storefront loomed before you, all glass and polished wood, with the kind of understated luxury that spoke of price tags that’d send an average middle-class person into a coma. The employee who welcomed you in gave you two a weird look. Probably catching up on the tension radiating off of you both.
$C_name wasted no time, striding in like $C_heshe owned the place, fingers immediately running over a rack of outfits.
“Let’s start simple,” $C_heshe said, pulling a random charcoal-gray outfit from the rack, eyeing it critically before handing it to you. “You’re… not going to ruin this one, are you?”
You took it with a roll of your eyes, muttering under your breath. “Can’t wait for this to be over.”
$C_name smirked, crossing $C_hisher arms and leaning back slightly, watching you with that same look $C_heshe always had—like $C_heshe was three steps ahead of everyone else, always a little more aware of things than they ever were. And the only one who escaped being left behind was you.
“Don’t worry, $MC_starboy,” $C_heshe said, voice dripping with dry amusement. “The feeling’s mutual.”
$C_HeShe turned away and quickly started looking through the options before reappearing again. “Alright, I’ve narrowed it down to these.”
You checked them out:
*[[Classic Black Tuxedo with Velvet Lapel|C outfit 3][$formalwear to "Classic Black Tuxedo with Velvet Lapel", $clothes to "tux"]]
*[[Midnight Navy Suit with a Slim Fit|C outfit 3][$formalwear to "Midnight Navy Suit with a Slim Fit", $clothes to "suit"]]
*[[Satin Midnight Blue Gown with a Plunging Neckline|C outfit 3][$formalwear to "Satin Midnight Blue Gown with a Plunging Neckline", $clothes to "gown"]]
*[[Crimson Red Off-Shoulder Dress with a Cinched Waist|C outfit 3][$formalwear to "Crimson Red Off-Shoulder Dress with a Cinched Waist", $clothes to "dress"]]
*[[Dark Green Velvet Suit with Cropped Trousers|C outfit 3][$formalwear to "Dark Green Velvet Suit with Cropped Trousers", $clothes to "suit"]]
*[[Black Double-Breasted Blazer with Wide Leg Trousers|C outfit 3][$formalwear to "Black Double-Breasted Blazer with Wide Leg Trousers", $clothes to "blazer"]]<<notify 5s>>+ Friendly<</notify>>$C_HeShe snorted, $C_hisher tone still clipped. “Well, thank God for that. We should be grateful that you’re taking the brunt of the embarrassment.”
You rolled your eyes, but the grin stayed on your face. “Thanks for the concern, really. Maybe next time you can help me sort through my laundry pile.”
When you finally reached The Velvet Stitch, its gleaming storefront loomed before you, all glass and polished wood, with the kind of understated luxury that spoke of price tags that’d send an average middle-class person into a coma. The employee who welcomed you in gave you two a weird look. Probably catching up on the tension radiating off of you both.
$C_name wasted no time, striding in like $C_heshe owned the place, fingers immediately running over a rack of outfits.
“Let’s start simple,” $C_heshe said, pulling a random charcoal-gray outfit from the rack, eyeing it critically before handing it to you. “You’re… not going to ruin this one, are you?”
You took it with a roll of your eyes, muttering under your breath. “Can’t wait for this to be over.”
$C_name smirked, crossing $C_hisher arms and leaning back slightly, watching you with that same look $C_heshe always had—like $C_heshe was three steps ahead of everyone else, always a little more aware of things than they ever were. And the only one who escaped being left behind was you.
“Don’t worry, $MC_starboy,” $C_heshe said, voice dripping with dry amusement. “The feeling’s mutual.”
$C_HeShe turned away and quickly started looking through the options before reappearing again. “Alright, I’ve narrowed it down to these.”
You checked them out:
*[[Classic Black Tuxedo with Velvet Lapel|C outfit 3][$formalwear to "Classic Black Tuxedo with Velvet Lapel", $clothes to "tux"]]
*[[Midnight Navy Suit with a Slim Fit|C outfit 3][$formalwear to "Midnight Navy Suit with a Slim Fit", $clothes to "suit"]]
*[[Satin Midnight Blue Gown with a Plunging Neckline|C outfit 3][$formalwear to "Satin Midnight Blue Gown with a Plunging Neckline", $clothes to "gown"]]
*[[Crimson Red Off-Shoulder Dress with a Cinched Waist|C outfit 3][$formalwear to "Crimson Red Off-Shoulder Dress with a Cinched Waist", $clothes to "dress"]]
*[[Dark Green Velvet Suit with Cropped Trousers|C outfit 3][$formalwear to "Dark Green Velvet Suit with Cropped Trousers", $clothes to "suit"]]
*[[Black Double-Breasted Blazer with Wide Leg Trousers|C outfit 3][$formalwear to "Black Double-Breasted Blazer with Wide Leg Trousers", $clothes to "blazer"]]<<if $formalwear is "Classic Black Tuxedo with Velvet Lapel">>You step out in a timeless black tuxedo, tailored to perfection with sleek velvet lapels that catch the light just right. The crisp white dress shirt beneath contrasts sharply, anchored by a black bow tie that gives the whole ensemble a polished, traditional feel. As you adjust the cufflinks and straighten your jacket, the polished black oxfords glisten under the shop’s soft lighting, adding to the air of sophistication.<<elseif $formalwear is "Midnight Navy Suit with a Slim Fit">>You emerge in a deep navy slim-fit suit that feels like a modern twist on the classic. The satin lapels shimmer subtly, paired with a charcoal gray dress shirt left open at the collar, giving the outfit a relaxed yet sharp vibe. No tie this time, just effortless cool, paired with black loafers that keep it grounded. The slim silhouette of the suit hugs you just right, contemporary and chic but still maintaining a formal edge.<<elseif $formalwear is "Satin Midnight Blue Gown with a Plunging Neckline">>The shimmering satin gown drapes across your figure like liquid gold. Its plunging neckline and spaghetti straps accentuate a bold elegance, while the high slit up the leg offers a daring touch. As you glide across the room, the fabric catches the light with every movement, each step accentuated by the click of silver stiletto heels. Paired with a sleek clutch, this gown is a statement—sophisticated and glamorous without being over the top, designed to turn heads.<<elseif $formalwear is "Crimson Red Off-Shoulder Dress with a Cinched Waist">>The off-the-shoulder red dress hugs your figure in all the right places, the fitted bodice cinching your waist before cascading into a flowing, floor-length skirt. There’s a confidence in the way it moves with you, effortlessly elegant yet commanding. Black strappy heels add a touch of sleekness, and the whole look is elevated by a sophisticated updo that shows off your neckline.<<elseif $formalwear is "Dark Green Velvet Suit with Cropped Trousers">>The velvet suit is a masterclass in subtle rebellion, blurring the lines of masculine and feminine with its fitted blazer and slightly cropped trousers. The deep green hue feels luxurious, understated yet rich, while the black silk turtleneck underneath keeps it minimalist, almost mysterious. The patent leather loafers shine, grounding the outfit in quiet confidence.<<elseif $formalwear is "Black Double-Breasted Blazer with Wide Leg Trousers">>A structured black double-breasted blazer with gold buttons commands attention. The wide-leg trousers are tailored to perfection, adding both fluidity and strength to the silhouette, shifting effortlessly between masculine and feminine aesthetics. Beneath the blazer, a crisp white shirt provides a sharp contrast, and the ankle boots give the entire ensemble a refined edge.<</if>>
When you stepped out, $C_name was already leaning against a nearby wall, arms crossed and eyes focused somewhere in the middle distance. $C_HisHer attention flickered over to you, and for a moment, something almost unguarded flashed across $C_hisher face. The sharp edge in $C_hisher expression dulled, replaced by an emotion you couldn't quite place. $C_HisHer usual snark wasn’t there, not immediately. In fact, for a second, $C_heshe looked speechless.
<<if $formalwear is "Classic Black Tuxedo with Velvet Lapel">>$C_HisHer eyes roamed over the outfit, taking in the way the black tuxedo seemed to mold perfectly to your frame, the way they made you look like you were ready to walk the red carpet. There was a strange look in $C_hisher eye—something between approval and begrudging admiration. $C_heshe swallowed, looked like $C_heshe wanted to say something, but the words were lodged stubbornly in $C_hisher throat.<<elseif $formalwear is "Midnight Navy Suit with a Slim Fit">>$C_HisHer eyes roamed over the outfit, taking in the way the suit seemed to mold perfectly to your frame, the way it made you look like you were ready to walk the red carpet. There was a strange look in $C_hisher eye—something between approval and begrudging admiration. $C_HeShe swallowed, looked like $C_heshe wanted to say something, but the words were lodged stubbornly in $C_hisher throat.<<elseif $formalwear is "Satin Midnight Blue Gown with a Plunging Neckline">>$C_HisHer eyes roamed over the outfit, taking in the way the gown seemed to mold perfectly to your frame, the way it made you look like you were ready to walk the red carpet. There was a strange look in $C_hisher eye—something between approval and begrudging admiration. $C_HeShe swallowed, looked like $C_heshe wanted to say something, but the words were lodged stubbornly in $C_hisher throat.<<elseif $formalwear is "Crimson Red Off-Shoulder Dress with a Cinched Waist">>$C_HisHer eyes roamed over the outfit, taking in the way the dress seemed to mold perfectly to your frame, the way it made you look like you were ready to walk the red carpet. There was a strange look in $C_hisher eye—something between approval and begrudging admiration. $C_HeShe swallowed, looked like $C_heshe wanted to say something, but the words were lodged stubbornly in $C_hisher throat.<<elseif $formalwear to "Dark Green Velvet Suit with Cropped Trousers">>$C_HisHer eyes roamed over the outfit, taking in the way the suit seemed to mold perfectly to your frame, the way it made you look like you were ready to walk the red carpet. There was a strange look in $C_hisher eye—something between approval and begrudging admiration. $C_HeShe swallowed, looked like $C_heshe wanted to say something, but the words were lodged stubbornly in $C_hisher throat.<<elseif $formalwear to "Black Double-Breasted Blazer with Wide Leg Trousers">>$C_HisHer eyes roamed over the outfit, taking in the way the blazer seemed to mold perfectly to your frame, the way it made you look like you were ready to walk the red carpet. There was a strange look in $C_hisher eye—something between approval and begrudging admiration. $C_HeShe swallowed, looked like $C_heshe wanted to say something, but the words were lodged stubbornly in $C_hisher throat.<</if>>
*[[“Well?” you prompted, voice light, masking the undercurrent of nerves. “Just say it. If I look ugly, it’s fine. Better to know now, right?” [♥︎]|C outfit 4.1][$Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100), $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100), $C_romance to $C_romance+1]]
*<<link '“I mean, come on, I know I don’t look <em>that</em> bad,” you said, winking as you ran a hand down the outfit. “Not everyone can pull it off, you know?” [♥︎]' "C outfit 4.2">><<set $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100); $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100); $C_romance to $C_romance+1>><</link>>/*[[C outfit 4.2]]*/
*[[You shrugged, glancing at yourself in the mirror. “I guess the silence says enough.” [♥︎]|C outfit 4.3][$C_romance to $C_romance+1, $C_oblivious to $C_oblivious+1]]<<notify 5s>>+ Shy<</notify>>$C_name's eyes flickered back up to yours, and they narrowed slightly, a familiar gruffness creeping into $C_hisher tone. “It’ll do,” $C_heshe muttered.
You crossed your arms, trying to ignore the way that answer twisted in your gut. “Yeah, that answer isn’t helping. Just say it with your chest if I look ugly.”
There was a beat where you could have sworn something shifted in $C_hisher expression, but it was so brief, you almost missed it. Then, $C_heshe muttered, barely loud enough for you to catch, “I can’t lie and say you look ugly.”
A wave of heat rose from your neck, and you could feel your face flush—hot and embarrassing, like the traitor it was. Did $C_heshe just say that? Your mouth opened, but no words came out. You could only manage a shaky, awkward, “Oh.”
Great response, really.
$C_name shifted uncomfortably, shoving $C_hisher hands into $C_hisher pockets. “You don’t have to make a thing of it.”
“I’m not, I swear!” you blurted, your voice a little too high-pitched. “I just—you didn’t… lie, so…”
$C_HeShe rolled $C_hisher eyes, clearly not up for whatever this was turning into. “Can we just leave now that you’ve found something decent.”
You nodded, though the flush on your face remained, your heartbeat still uncomfortably fast. You turned back to the mirror, fiddling with your outfit, trying to pretend you hadn’t just been left completely flustered.
<<button "Next" "C outfit 5">><</button>>
/*[[C outfit 5]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Bold<</notify>>$C_name's eyes flickered back up to yours, and they narrowed slightly, a familiar gruffness creeping into $C_hisher tone. “It’ll do,” $C_heshe muttered.
You crossed your arms, trying to ignore the way that answer twisted in your gut. “Yeah, that silence isn’t helping. Just say it with your chest if I look ugly.”
There was a beat where you could have sworn something shifted in $C_hisher expression, but it was so brief, you almost missed it. Then, $C_heshe muttered, barely loud enough for you to catch, “I can’t lie and say you look ugly.”
The words landed heavier than you’d expected. Something fluttered in your chest, a sensation so foreign it left you standing there, speechless for a moment. You swallowed, blinking at him, unsure how to respond. A laugh would have broken the tension, but it was stuck somewhere in your throat, refusing to come out.
For a second, it was like your brain had short-circuited, the comment shorting out any semblance of normal conversation. And so you instead went with a lame. “Yay.”
Great response, really.
$C_name shifted uncomfortably, shoving $C_hisher hands into $C_hisher pockets. “You don’t have to make a thing of it.”
“I’m not making a thing of it!” you blurted out with a defensive edge to your tone. “I just didn’t expect it, that’s all.”
$C_HeShe rolled $C_hisher eyes, clearly not up for whatever this was turning into. “Can we just leave now that you’ve found something decent.”
You nodded, though your brain was still recovering from that moment, your heartbeat still uncomfortably fast. You turned back to the mirror, fiddling with your outfit, trying to pretend you hadn’t just been left completely off-kilter.
<<button "Next" "C outfit 5">><</button>>
/*[[C outfit 5]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Oblivious<</notify>>$C_name's eyes flickered back up to yours, and they narrowed slightly, a familiar gruffness creeping into $C_hisher tone. “It’ll do,” $C_heshe muttered.
You crossed your arms, trying to ignore the way that answer twisted in your gut. “Yeah, that silence isn’t helping. Just say it with your chest if I look ugly.”
There was a beat where you could have sworn something shifted in $C_hisher expression, but it was so brief, you almost missed it. Then, $C_heshe muttered, barely loud enough for you to catch, “I can’t lie and say you look ugly.”
Confusion swept over you, like static fuzz in your brain. You frowned, unsure why there was a strange warmth unfurling in your chest, like some annoying, persistent buzzing that you couldn’t quite shake.
You stared at $C_name, trying to make sense of it. “Wait, what?”
$C_HeShe exhaled, clearly irritated, as if you were the one being difficult. “I am so not repeating myself.”
You blinked, still not fully understanding why $C_hisher previous statement made your pulse speed up. You chalked it up to annoyance. That had to be it. Because why else would $C_hisher words suddenly make you feel like your insides were twisting in knots? “Right. Uh, okay.”
“I mean, sure, you look like you could use a little more help with this whole ‘looking presentable’ thing, but ugly? No.” $C_hisher voice was sharp but honest, which only made it harder to understand the sudden twinge of heat crawling up your neck.
You forced a laugh, waving your hand dismissively. “Yeah, well, you’re annoying.”
$C_HeShe just shrugged, seemingly unaffected. “And you can be indecisive. You’re lucky I was here to pick something good because you’d be here all day otherwise.”
Despite $C_hisher attempt at a dig, the strange feeling lingered as you turned back to the mirror, stealing a quick glance at $C_name when $C_heshe wasn’t looking. You couldn’t explain it, but you tried to shake it off. You blamed it on $C_hisher constant snappiness—there was no other explanation for this funny feeling.
<<button "Next" "C outfit 5">><</button>>
/*[[C outfit 5]]*/You slid your Amex Centurion Card across the counter, watching the cashier’s eyes widen ever so slightly, as if the small black rectangle you handed over said more than any name or title ever could. The purchase was seamless, a delicate exchange of garment bags and a folded receipt. But as soon as you stepped outside into the crisp air, the short amount of peace between you and $C_name went away.
It had started as something small—insignificant, really. The way $C_heshe had rolled $C_hisher eyes when you mentioned being unsure about one of the outfits back in the store. How $C_heshe seemed to think every choice you made was somehow up for debate, as if your indecision was a personal affront to $C_himher. But now, as you walked side by side, the silence between you crackled, the remnants of irritation from earlier bubbling just beneath the surface.
“I don’t get why you’re like this sometimes,” $C_name finally muttered, shoving $C_hisher hands into $C_hisher pockets. $C_HisHer voice was low, like $C_heshe didn’t want to start something but couldn’t help it. “Second-guessing everything. Like, how hard is it to just pick something and stick with it?”
You shot $C_himher a sideways glance, frustration simmering at the edges of your calm.
“I’m not second-guessing everything,” you replied, trying to keep your tone even but failing. “I just don’t want to look like an idiot at the dinner. Is that such a crime?”
$C_name snorted, the sound harsh in the quiet street. “You act like it’s life or death. Newsflash: no one cares. It’s just clothes.”
You stopped walking, turning to face $C_himher.
“That’s easy for you to say,” you snapped. “You probably have a fucking Gucci outfit ready because your perfectionist ass wants to be prepared for everything at this point.”
$C_name halted too, spinning on $C_hisher heel with a look of exasperation. “Why the hell do you care so much? You’ve got the formalwear now like the rest of us. You do know that there’s not going to be an award for best-dressed, right?”
“Maybe I just want to feel completely confident about myself,” you said, the words coming out more heated than you’d intended. “God, can you take your head out of your ass? It’s not a fucking hat, Lacroix.”
“Nice one, $MC_starboy, you’ve really grown out of high school.” $C_name rolled $C_hisher eyes again, the kind of gesture that made your blood boil. “Don't put too much stock in what other people think, it’ll only make you look… weak.”
“Keep rolling your eyes and they’ll be stuck like that forever,” you simply said.
“Excuse me?” $C_heshe shot back, eyes narrowing.
You met $C_hisher gaze, unflinching. “You heard me.”
$C_name opened $C_hisher mouth to retaliate, but the sound of screeching tires cut $C_himher off. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a man speeding toward you, completely disregarding the bright red light that hung above the intersection. You barely had time to step back, your heart lurching as the bike skidded dangerously close to you.
The man on the bike swerved at the last second, missing you by mere inches, but he didn’t stop. Instead, he threw a glare over his shoulder, his voice sharp and dripping with contempt. “Watch where you’re going, $MC_asshole!”
*[[You huffed, already halfway through formulating a sharp retort.|C outfit 6][$Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100); $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100), $option to 1]]
*[[You quickly try to apologize for the mishap, hoping to avoid trouble.|C outfit 6][$Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100), $option to 2]]
*[[You’re already fishing out your phone to call your lawyers.|C outfit 6][$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100); $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100), $option to 3]]
*[[“What the f—”|C outfit 6][$Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100); $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100), $option to 4]]<<if $option is 1>><<notify 5s>>+ Uptight<</notify>>Before you could read him to filth, $C_name stepped forward, placing $C_himself between you and the biker in a flash.<<elseif $option is 2>><<notify 5s>>+ Friendly<</notify>>Before you could mumble out an apology, $C_name stepped forward, placing $C_himself between you and the biker in a flash.<<elseif $option is 3>><<notify 5s>>+ Arrogant<</notify>>Before you could read him his Miranda rights, $C_name stepped forward, placing $C_himself between you and the biker in a flash.<<elseif $option is 4>><<notify 5s>>+ Impulsive<</notify>>Before you could finish your sentence, $C_name stepped forward, placing $C_himself between you and the biker in a flash.<</if>><<unset $option>>
“Excuse me?” $C_heshe called after the man, $C_hisher voice ice cold. The bike slowed with the man glancing back over his shoulder with a sneer.
$C_HeShe tilted $C_hisher head, a dangerous gleam in $C_hisher eyes. “I think you owe an apology.”
The man turned fully, his lips curling into an arrogant smirk. He looked both of you up and down, his confidence growing. “An apology? For what? Two college brats getting in my way? Get over it.”
“Yeah, no,” $C_name said, taking a slow step forward, voice dangerously low. “You’re not getting out of this that easily.”
The biker rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed.
“What are you gonna do? Beat me up?” He laughed, as if the idea of two students challenging him was laughable. “Get lost. It’s a big city, kids like you don’t scare me.”
$C_name smiled then—a smile that didn’t quite reach $C_hisher pale green eyes. It was sharp, calculating, like $C_heshe knew something the biker didn’t. And when $C_heshe spoke again, it was in a voice so calm, so measured, it made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.
“Goodness no, I’m not a barbarian who likes to get $C_hisher hands dirty,” $C_heshe said. “But you should know that there’s a CCTV camera on the corner that just caught you running a red light. And New Haven’s pretty big on public safety, especially with the areas near the university campus. One phone call, and they’ll be more than happy to flag your bike, find your name. And trust me, the city isn’t fond of people who almost run down students.”
The man’s smirk faltered, his eyes darting to the camera that hung innocuously on the corner, its lens gleaming in the sunlight. His confidence wavered, just for a moment, before he scowled. “You’re bluffing.”
$C_name didn’t flinch. “Try me, <<link '<em>connard</em>'>><<set $Ctext to 1>><<script>>
Dialog.setup("Translation");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("C Translations").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</link>>.”
There was a beat of silence. You could see the tiny gears turning in the biker’s head, the way his bravado slowly crumbled as the reality of the situation sank in. Finally, with a huff, he muttered something under his breath, looking away.
“Fine,” he grumbled, barely audible. “Sorry.”
“Louder,” $C_name said, voice still calm, still deadly.
The biker clenched his jaw, but he didn’t argue.
“I said, sorry,” he repeated, louder this time, his voice tight with forced contrition.
$C_name smiled that slow, smug smile again, stepping back. “That’s better. <<link '<em>Maintenant va te faire foutre</em>'>><<set $Ctext to 2>><<script>>
Dialog.setup("Translation");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("C Translations").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</link>>.”
The man frowned, not understanding what $C_heshe said but figured it couldn’t be anything you’d find on a greeting card. He ended up shooting you both a glare before revving away, clearly fuming but unwilling to escalate the situation any further.
You stood there for a moment, your heart still pounding from the near collision and the unexpected confrontation. When you finally turned to $C_name, $C_heshe was watching the biker disappear into the distance, a satisfied gleam in $C_hisher eyes.
*[[“I can handle myself, you know.”|C outfit 7.1][$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[“Um, thank you for that.”|C outfit 7.2][$Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100), $C_friendship to $C_friendship+2]]
*[[“Aww, are you being nice to me, Lacroix?”|C outfit 7.3][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[“You didn’t have to jump in like that.”|C outfit 7.4][$Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[“Are you sure you don’t have a savior complex?”|C outfit 7.5][$Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100)]]
*[[“You didn’t have to be such a jerk about it.”|C outfit 7.6][$Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100)]]<div id="centered"><<if $Ctext is 1>>asshole
<<elseif $Ctext is 2>>Now go fuck yourself
<</if>></div><<notify 5s>>+ Arrogant<</notify>>Your voice was sharp, but there was a flicker of something softer underneath. Maybe it was your pride that made you say it. After all, you didn’t need anyone swooping in to defend you like that. Even if $C_heshe did just shut down that guy like it was just another Wednesday.
$C_name raised an eyebrow at your tone, clearly amused. “Yeah, I noticed. You were handling it so well back there.”
You shot $C_himher a look, but couldn’t help the faint grin tugging at the corner of your mouth. “If you’d just let me handle that, I would’ve had it under control.”
“Sure you did,” $C_heshe replied, crossing $C_hisher arms as $C_heshe leaned back a little, looking almost relaxed now. “That’s why you were about two seconds away from becoming roadkill, right?”
You opened your mouth to argue, but realized you didn’t actually have a comeback for that since that was the truth. But you were <em>not</em> going to admit that. So, you just sighed, shaking your head.
“That’s more like it,” $C_name smirked.
<<button "Next" "C outfit 8">><</button>>
/*[[C outfit 8]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Genuine<</notify>>Your voice came out quieter than you expected, and it took you a second to realize you weren’t just talking about the biker. There was something else wrapped up in those words, something about the way $C_name had just instinctively stood up for you—no hesitation, no thought. Just… action. And for some reason, it made your chest feel tight.
$C_name looked at you for a moment, as if weighing whether or not to acknowledge the gratitude in your voice. Then, $C_heshe shrugged, looking away, a flicker of discomfort in $C_hisher posture.
“Don’t mention it,” $C_heshe muttered, as if downplaying the whole thing would somehow make it less… real.
But you couldn’t help but press. “No, seriously. That guy was a jerk, and you didn’t have to do that.”
$C_name glanced at you again, the corner of $C_hisher mouth twitching upward. “It wasn’t about having to. The guy was out of line. That’s all.”
<<button "Next" "C outfit 8">><</button>>
/*[[C outfit 8]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Sarcastic<</notify>>You tilted your head, studying $C_name with an exaggerated expression of curiosity. “Because I didn’t think I’d live to see the day.”
$C_name shot you a sideways glance, $C_hisher lips twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Don’t get used to it.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m serious! You—nice? That’s like, a rare phenomenon. It should be studied.”
“I’m not nice,” $C_heshe shot back, giving you that deadpan look that almost made you crack up again. “I just have a low tolerance for idiots.”
You nodded, putting on an exaggeratedly thoughtful expression. “Ah, I see. So, it wasn’t me you were protecting. It was your general disdain for humanity.”
“Exactly,” $C_name said, coughing and looking away. “Finally, you get it.”
<<button "Next" "C outfit 8">><</button>>
/*[[C outfit 8]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Aloof<</notify>>The words slipped out before you could stop them, but they didn’t sound like an accusation. More like an observation. You weren’t sure why it felt important to say, but it did. Maybe because the look in $C_name’s eyes when $C_heshe stepped in—it wasn’t just instinct. There was something more calculated there, like $C_heshe couldn’t stand the idea of you being in danger, even if it was just from some arrogant biker.
$C_name shrugged, playing it off. “The guy was being an ass.”
You looked at $C_himher, trying to read more into $C_hisher expression. But $C_heshe wasn’t giving you anything, $C_hisher face impassive, like this was just another moment to brush off. Like it hadn’t actually meant anything.
Still, you couldn’t help but ask, “But why…?”
“Why not?” $C_name responded, cutting you off before you could finish the thought. $C_hisher tone was flat, as though the answer was obvious.
<<button "Next" "C outfit 8">><</button>>
/*[[C outfit 8]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Laidback<</notify>>You grinned, raising an eyebrow at $C_name. “Because it’s starting to feel like you might.”
$C_name blinked at you, then let out a low chuckle, shaking $C_hisher head. “Please. Last thing I need is you thinking I’m trying to save anyone. Especially you.”
“Uh-huh,” you said, the grin widening on your face. “Because from where I’m standing, you swooped in pretty fast.”
“More like I was tired of watching you get yourself into dumb situations,” $C_name replied smoothly, the banter flowing between you like a second language.
You put a hand to your chest in mock offense. “So, this is just charity then? You’re saving me from myself?”
$C_name gave a dramatic sigh. “Exactly. You should thank me, really.”
“Fat chance for that,” you muttered as you looked away.
<<button "Next" "C outfit 8">><</button>>
/*[[C outfit 8]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Uptight<</notify>>Your arms crossed instinctively, and your voice came out more biting than you intended. “I had it handled.”
$C_name stopped walking, looking at you with narrowed eyes. “Yeah? Because from where I’m standing, you looked like a deer in headlights.”
You glared at $C_himher, frustration bubbling up. “I didn’t ask you to play hero.”
$C_name’s expression hardened. “I wasn’t trying to be a hero, okay? But you don’t get to stand there and act like you didn’t need help.”
You opened your mouth to retort, but something about the intensity in $C_hisher voice made you pause. There was something unspoken there—something that made you feel like this wasn’t just about the biker. You swallowed hard, suddenly unsure of what to say.
$C_name broke eye contact first, muttering under $C_hisher breath. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
<<button "Next" "C outfit 8">><</button>>
/*[[C outfit 8]]*/The rest of the walk back to your residential hall was weighted with the kind of silence that felt fragile—like a too-thin layer of ice beneath your feet, ready to crack at any second. Neither of you spoke and the city hummed around you—car horns, people talking, the faint roar of life continuing as if nothing significant had just happened. But inside your head, the encounter with the biker played over and over like a tape stuck on a loop.
$C_name walked beside you, hands in $C_hisher pockets, a scowl still etched across $C_hisher face. Occasionally, $C_heshe would glance your way, but say nothing. You found yourself stealing glances, too, trying to read whatever was behind that brooding expression, but $C_hisher face was as closed-off as a locked door. It didn’t help that your mind kept replaying the way $C_hisher eyes had flared up when the biker didn’t back down—how $C_heshe had stepped up without even hesitating, like it was the most natural thing in the world to defend you.
As you approached the edge of campus, $C_name cleared $C_hisher throat, breaking the thick silence.
“I, uh…" $C_heshe started, though the words seemed broken in $C_hisher throat for a moment before they actually escaped. “I’m meeting up with $D_name in a bit."
“Right. Cool," you replied, your voice almost swallowed by the ambient noise of the campus. You were tempted to ask something else, to pry into the way $C_hisher shoulders were tense, like maybe there was something more that $C_heshe wanted to say. But you didn’t. Instead, you just waited, letting the moment stretch out between you.
$C_name hesitated, as if weighing something internally, and for a second, you thought $C_heshe might actually say what $C_heshe wanted to. But then the contemplating expression was gone as quickly as it had come. $C_HisHer face shuttered closed again.
“See you at the dinner," $C_heshe muttered, voice gruff, barely meeting your eyes.
Before you could even process how strange it was to hear those words from $C_name’s mouth—who wasn’t exactly known for being polite to you—$C_heshe turned on $C_hisher heel and walked off abruptly, hands still shoved deep in $C_hisher pockets. The hastiness of $C_hisher departure left you blinking, standing there alone on the sidewalk as $C_hisher figure disappeared around a corner.
You stood there for a moment, watching the empty space where $C_name had been, trying to make sense of the strange, almost civil tenseness that had simmered between you since the encounter with the biker. You weren’t sure what to make of it—of $C_name’s sudden need to defend you, of $C_hisher gruff parting words that felt more like a concession than anything else.
There was a part of you—the irrational, impulsive part—that wanted to chase after $C_himher, demand to know why $C_heshe couldn’t just say what $C_heshe was thinking. But then you shook your head, brushing off the thought. That was the thing about $C_name, you realized. $C_heshe was always playing this game of push and pull, letting you in for a second only to slam the door shut again.
$C_name truly had not changed since school.
<div id="centered">[[Three years ago…|C outfit 9]]</div><div id="centered"><strong><h1>May, 2021</h1></strong></div>
<em>Aldervale Preparatory School—the best school in the Pacific Northwest—had been your domain from the moment you set foot in its hallowed halls. You didn’t just excel—you thrived. Every test, every project, every academic hurdle that came your way, you knocked it out of the park effortlessly. Your name was also a hot topic for anyone who was doing $MC_extracurriculars. It was as if places like these had been designed specifically for you, a perfect playing field where you could show off just how capable you were.
The teachers? They loved you. It was obvious. Their eyes always lit up when your hand shot into the air, their smiles a little wider when they saw your name at the top of the grading list. You weren’t just a good student—you were the best. The kind who made everyone else look bad without even trying. And you had friends. Plenty of them. You floated between social groups easily, never needing to worry about fitting in. It all came so naturally, as if you were meant to be there, the perfect all-around student.
Which made it even harder to understand why someone like $C_name had always seemed to resent you.
$C_HeShe had always been there, just on the edge of your vision, brooding in the shadows with that perpetually displeased expression. $C_HeShe was smart, sure—probably the only one who could actually give you a run for your money in class—but for whatever reason, $C_heshe was always falling just short. Always the silver to your gold. And it grated on $C_himher. You could see it in the way $C_hisher jaw clenched whenever a teacher praised you, in the way $C_hisher eyes narrowed when you collected another certificate or award.
But more than that, $C_name had always been angry. Angry in a way you couldn’t understand, like the very sight of you was enough to irritate $C_himher. Like you were a personal stain to $C_hisher very existence. And maybe you were. After all, you were everything $C_heshe wasn’t: effortlessly liked, effortlessly admired. You never had to work for it. It just came to you, without even trying.
That had been true since middle school, and it carried throughout high school as well.
One afternoon when you were in ninth grade, just after history class, a day when you’d scored the highest grade on an exam. It wasn’t a big deal to you—you’d barely studied—but the teacher had made a point of praising your work in front of everyone, and you could feel the eyes on you. Some admiring, some jealous. And then, of course, there was $C_name. Sitting at the back of the room, arms crossed, pale green eyes narrowed, staring at the desk like if $C_heshe glared hard enough, $C_heshe could burn a hole through it.
Later, by the lockers, you’d been talking to a group of your friends when you overheard the whispers behind you.
“Of course $MC_surname got the highest grade,” someone scoffed. “It’s like the teachers are itching to glaze $himher like crazy whenever they get the chance. I swear, if I hear one more thing about how fucking perfect $heshe is—”
“Honestly, it’s like the teachers are rigging it at this point,” another voice chimed in, bitterness heavy in their tone. “How much do you wanna bet $hisher dad is paying them off?”
You stiffened, your back to them, willing yourself not to react. You’d heard things like that before, and you knew better than to give them any attention.
*[[But it still stung, knowing that no matter how hard you worked, some people just refused to give you credit for it.|C outfit 10][$Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100), $option to 1]]
*[[You clenched your jaw, your knuckles tightening around the strap of your backpack as your ego screamed at you to say something.|C outfit 10][$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100), $option to 2]]
*[[You refused to even spend a second trying to match their toxic energy. You’re not going to get involved in petty jealousies.|C outfit 10][$Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100), $option to 3]]
</em><em><<if $option is 1>><<notify 5s>>+ Humble<</notify>>Like it was easier for them to believe you had it easy, that you didn’t earn it.<<elseif $option is 2>><<notify 5s>>+ Arrogant<</notify>>It’s not like I even care what they think,” you muttered under your breath, trying to convince yourself it was true.<<elseif $option is 3>><<notify 5s>>+ Aloof<</notify>>“It’s fine. It’s not like I need their approval anyway,” you told yourself, doing your best to ignore them entirely.<</if>><<unset $option>>
And then, as if on cue, you heard a familiar voice cut through the low murmur of complaints. “I don’t know, man, sounds like you’re just jealous that $heshe <<are>>n’t lazy and braindead like most of you.”
You turned on instinct, surprise flickering across your face, but tried to hide it. $C_name was leaning against $C_hisher locker, arms crossed over $C_hisher chest, watching $C_hisher idiotic friend group with a look of disdain. With them, $C_heshe had that air about $C_himher—like nothing really got to $C_himher, like $C_heshe was above it all. And for the most part, $C_heshe acted that way. Especially when it came to you. Chris, one of the louder voices, looked taken aback, their mouth half-open as if they didn’t know whether to laugh or be offended.
“What?” Chris stammered, clearly not expecting that from their friend. “Are you serious?”
$C_name shrugged, expression unfazed. “You think the teachers are just handing out grades? Maybe if you actually opened a book for once, you wouldn’t sound so pathetic.”
There was a moment of awkward silence as Chris’s face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and irritation.
“Whatever,” they muttered, kicking the ground. “I’m not gonna kiss $MC_surname’s ass just because—”
“Then stop yapping about it so much, dumbass,” $C_name interrupted, voice flat and unimpressed. “Nobody cares.”
And that was that. The others fell silent, muttering something about meeting $C_himher at lunch under their breaths before slowly wandering off to their respective classes, leaving you standing there in stunned silence. You hadn’t expected that—hadn’t expected $C_name, of all people, to jump to your defense.
You caught $C_hisher eye for a second, chalcedony green meeting $MC_eyecolor, a brief glance before $C_heshe looked away, like nothing had happened at all. You stood there, the conversation with your friends long forgotten, trying to make sense of it. Trying to figure out why someone who spent so much energy competing with you would bother to defend you for no reason.
Later that day, you found $C_name in the hallway near the lockers again, stuffing books into $C_hisher bag with that same casual indifference. You hesitated for a second, wondering if it was even worth asking, but your curiosity won out.
*<<link '“Why’d you do that?” you asked, leaning against the locker beside $C_himher, trying to keep your tone easygoing.' "C outfit 11.1">><<set $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100); $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>>/*[[C outfit 11.1]]*/
*<<link '“There you are,” you called out when you reached $C_himher. “What the fuck was that earlier with your friends?”' "C outfit 11.2">><<set $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100); $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>>/*[[C outfit 11.2]]*/
*<<link '“You know, Lacroix, I never thought I’d see the day you, of all people, would be defending little ol’ me.” Your grin was playful as you leaned against the locker beside $C_himher.' "C outfit 11.3">><<set $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100); $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100); $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100); $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>>/*[[C outfit 11.3]]*/
*[[“Uh, I just wanted to thank you for earlier,” you said, keeping your tone genuine and friendly.|C outfit 11.4][$Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100), $C_friendship to $C_friendship+2]]
*<<link '“Hey, $C_name,” you said, already feeling your cheeks getting hot. “Thank you for, you know, earlier.” [♥︎]' "C outfit 11.5">><<set $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100), $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100), $C_romance to $C_romance+1>><</link>>/*[[C outfit 11.5]]*/
*[[“I have to say, Lacroix, you’re much hotter when you’re defending me,” you teased with a wink. [♥︎]|C outfit 11.6][$Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100), $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100), $C_romance to $C_romance+1]]
</em><<notify 5s>>+ Laidback<</notify>><em>$C_HeShe didn’t look up from the mess of books in $C_hisher hands, deliberately slow as $C_heshe stuffed them into $C_hisher bag. There was an undercurrent of something in $C_hisher movements—irritation? Frustration? You couldn’t quite tell, but the tension was palpable.
“Do what?” $C_heshe asked, still not looking at you.
You sighed. “You know what. Back there, with your friends. Why’d you tell them to shut up?”
$C_HeShe finally looked up at you, though it was more of a glance than anything.
“They were being obnoxious. I didn’t feel like listening to them today.” $C_heshe spoke as if the explanation was so simple, so obvious, that you were stupid for even asking.
You raised an eyebrow, letting the silence linger between you for a moment. “Right. And that’s it? No other reason?”
$C_HeShe let out a short, humorless laugh. “What other reason would there be? Don’t flatter yourself.”
You smiled, shaking your head slightly. “I’m not flattering myself, I’m just trying to figure out what made you suddenly care. It’s not like you to step in.”
$C_HeShe zipped up $C_hisher bag, slinging it over $C_hisher shoulder with a sharp motion. “Look, I didn’t do it for you, alright? I just didn’t feel like hearing their bullshit today. You were just… there, I guess.”
There was something dismissive in $C_hisher tone, but you couldn’t help noticing the subtle shift in $C_hisher stance, the way $C_heshe wouldn’t quite meet your eyes. It was classic $C_name—denying any real reason while still showing a tiny hint that maybe, just maybe, there was more going on beneath the surface.
You shrugged, deciding not to press further. “Alright, sure. Whatever you say.”
You kept your voice casual, but you couldn’t help wondering if there was more to $C_hisher sudden act of defense than $C_heshe wanted to admit. You’d known $C_name long enough to know that $C_heshe wasn’t as nonchalant as $C_heshe tried to come off as, even if $C_heshe was never going to admit it.
To this day, you still didn’t have an answer to $C_hisher behavior from that moment.
<div id="centered">[[Maybe you never would.|C outfit 12]]</div></em><<notify 5s>>+ Uptight<</notify>><em>$C_HeShe stopped looking through $C_hisher books, turning around slowly to face you, $C_hisher expression twisted in a mix of confusion and irritation.
“What are you talking about?” $C_heshe asked, $C_hisher brow furrowing as though your question was the most ridiculous thing $C_heshe’d heard all day.
You crossed your arms over your chest, glaring at $C_himher. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. You told your friends to shut up when they were making fun of me. What was that about?”
$C_HeShe let out a short, annoyed breath, rubbing the back of $C_hisher neck as if trying to ease the tension. “God, why do you care so much? They were being idiots. I didn’t want to hear it.”
“Since when do you care what they say?” you shot back, narrowing your eyes at $C_himher. “You’ve never stopped them before, right? So why now?”
$C_HeShe rolled $C_hisher eyes, clearly exasperated by the conversation. “Jesus, why do you have to make everything about you? Maybe I didn’t want to listen to them. Maybe I was just in a shitty mood and didn’t feel like dealing with their crap. It had nothing to do with you.”
“Right,” you muttered, your voice dripping with false acceptance. “Just a coincidence, huh?”
$C_HisHer gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, something unreadable flickering in $C_hisher eyes before $C_heshe shook $C_hisher head, closed $C_hisher locker and turned away, muttering under $C_hisher breath. “Whatever. Believe what you want.”
You watched as $C_heshe walked away, feeling a strange mix of frustration and confusion gnawing at you. There was something about the way $C_heshe had reacted that didn’t quite add up, but you knew better than to push $C_himher when $C_heshe was like this.
To this day, you still didn’t have an answer to $C_hisher behavior from that moment.
<div id="centered">[[Maybe you never would.|C outfit 12]]</div></em><<notify 5s>>+ Sarcastic, + Arrogant<</notify>><em>$C_HeShe glanced at you sideways, $C_hisher expression carefully blank.
“Don’t get used to it,” $C_heshe muttered, slamming $C_hisher locker shut with a little more force than necessary. “I’m not your personal bodyguard.”
You laughed lightly, though there was an edge to it, your arms crossed as you leaned in a little closer. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. Just surprised, that’s all.”
$C_HeShe straightened up, slinging $C_hisher bag over $C_hisher shoulder and looking at you with a faint sneer. “Surprised? Yeah, well, maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.”
You raised an eyebrow at that, not letting $C_hisher words rattle you. “Maybe. Or maybe you’re not as nonchalant as you like to pretend.”
$C_HeShe scoffed, $C_hisher lips curving into a smile that didn’t quite reach $C_hisher eyes. “You really think I care that much? Please.”
You shrugged, watching $C_himher closely, sensing that there was something else buried underneath $C_hisher cocky bravado. “I don’t know. I just think it’s funny, that’s all. You, of all people, coming to my defense.”
For a moment, $C_heshe didn’t respond, $C_hisher gaze lingering on you in a way that felt almost… searching. But just as quickly as it came, the moment passed, and $C_heshe was back to $C_hisher usual self, brushing off your words like they meant nothing.
“Don’t read into it. It’s not gonna happen again.” And with that, $C_heshe turned on $C_hisher heel and walked away, leaving you standing there with more questions than answers.
To this day, you still didn’t have an answer to $C_hisher behavior from that moment.
<div id="centered">[[Maybe you never would.|C outfit 12]]</div></em><<notify 5s>>+ Friendly, +Genuine<</notify>><em>$C_HeShe blinked, clearly not expecting your gratitude. $C_HisHer movements faltered slightly as $C_heshe shifted $C_hisher weight from one foot to the other, an awkward tension settling between the two of you.
“You don’t need to thank me,” $C_heshe said gruffly, clearly uncomfortable with the sincerity in your voice. “It’s not like I did anything special.”
You smiled slightly, ignoring $C_hisher attempt to downplay the situation. “Still, I appreciate it. You didn’t have to do that, and I just wanted to say thanks.”
$C_name zipped up $C_hisher bag with a sharp motion, standing up straight. “Yeah, well… don’t make a big deal out of it. I don’t need the attention.”
And with that, $C_heshe was gone, leaving you standing there in the hallway. Yet, you couldn’t help but find $C_hisher discomfort strangely endearing, even if $C_heshe would rather disappear than acknowledge it. $C_HeShe was so used to being the one who didn’t care, the one who brushed off everything like it didn’t matter, that seeing $C_himher like this—caught off guard, unsure how to respond to simple gratitude—was almost… nice.
However, to this day, you still didn’t have an answer to $C_hisher behavior from that moment.
<div id="centered">[[Maybe you never would.|C outfit 12]]</div></em><<notify 5s>>+ Shy<</notify>><em>$C_HeShe glanced at you, frowning slightly as if trying to figure out what was going on. “What’s going on with you? Are you sick?”
“I’m not,” you protested weakly, shifting awkwardly on your feet. “It’s just… I’m not used to you doing that. Defending me, I mean. It’s… unexpected.”
$C_HeShe rolled $C_hisher eyes but didn’t seem as annoyed as usual. “I just didn’t want to listen to them. Don’t read too much into it.”
You bit your lip, nodding slowly. “Right. Of course. But still… thanks.”
$C_HeShe sighed, clearly not enjoying the sentimentality of the moment.
“You’re welcome,” $C_heshe muttered, the words coming out begrudgingly as if they physically pained $C_himher. “Now can we drop it?”
You gave a small, awkward laugh, trying to ease the tension. “Yeah, sure. Sorry. I just didn’t expect—”
“I said drop it,” $C_heshe cut you off, though there wasn’t as much bite in $C_hisher voice this time.
You nodded quickly, letting the conversation fall into an awkward silence, your mind racing with thoughts of why $C_heshe had done it in the first place.
$C_name shut $C_hisher locker with a sharp clank, slinging $C_hisher bag over one shoulder. $C_HeShe turned $C_hisher attention to you, the tips of $C_hisher ears getting strangely pink, and hesitated for a second before letting out a very mumbled, “See you at class.”
And with that, $C_heshe was gone, leaving you standing there in the hallway with only the floaty feeling in your chest to keep you company.
To this day, you still didn’t have an answer to $C_hisher behavior from that moment.
<div id="centered">[[Maybe you never would.|C outfit 12]]</div></em><<notify 5s>>+ Bold<</notify>><em>$C_name rolled $C_hisher eyes, but there was a split-second flash of something in $C_hisher expression—something caught between a strange giddiness and discomfort. “Good thing I’m not here to be your knight in shining armor.”
“Shame,” you shot back, grinning. “You’d pull it off.”
$C_HeShe snorted, shaking $C_hisher head. “You’re being ridiculous, $MC_starboy.”
“Maybe,” you replied, leaning in just enough to catch the faintest twitch of a suppressed smile on $C_hisher lips. “But you’re the one who defended me. Kind of goes against your ‘don’t care’ vibe, doesn’t it?”
$C_HeShe looked at you for a long moment, then shrugged. “You’re reading into it too much. I didn’t do it for you.”
“Yeah, sure you didn’t.” You winked, and for just a second, the tip of $C_hisher ears seemed to almost turn pink. That only made you want to ravish $C_himher more. “Come on, pretty $C_boy, I can keep a secret.”
$C_name zipped up $C_hisher bag with a sharp motion and closed $C_hisher locker like $C_heshe couldn’t wait to just get away from your overwhelming presence. You opened your mouth to tease $C_himher again, but $C_heshe was already walking away, like you just told $C_himher that you had contracted Covid or something. You couldn’t help but smirk, amused and eager to see $C_name’s flustered face again.
However, to this day, you still didn’t have an answer to $C_hisher behavior from that moment.
<div id="centered">[[Maybe you never would.|C outfit 12]]</div></em><div id="centered"><strong><h1>Present Day</h1></strong></div>
Even now, walking toward your dorm after the bizarre confrontation with the biker, you found yourself wondering—had $C_name ever really hated you? Or was it something else entirely? Whatever it was, $C_heshe had never given you the chance to find out. Every time you tried to get closer, $C_heshe pushed you back, just like then.
That’s how it was always going to be with $C_himher, you suppose. One step forward and three steps back.
<<button "Next" "Formal dinner">><</button>>/*[[Formal dinner]]*/Fifteen minutes passed before the door to the diner swung open, the bell chiming softly as $M_name stepped inside. You looked up, spotting $M_himher immediately. $M_HeShe always had that effortless grace about $M_himher, the kind that made it hard not to notice $M_himher in any room.
<<if $M_gender is "male">>Maxwell was dressed in a crisp white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up neatly to reveal the smooth fabric of a navy blazer slung casually over one arm. The shirt was tucked into tailored khaki trousers, perfectly pressed, and the leather loafers on his feet gleamed in the morning light.
Maxwell made eye contact with you, offering a polite nod before approaching your table. His greeting was as refined as ever, the words soft but formal. “Good morning."
You smiled back, gesturing for him to sit. “Morning. I, uh, appreciate you coming out like this."
He shrugged slightly as he took a seat across from you, placing his blazer neatly beside him. “It’s no trouble.”<<else>>Maxine was dressed in a pale, delicate blouse with subtle lace detailing tucked into high-waisted, wide-legged trousers, the color a deep forest green. The soft fabric flowed with every step, and a silk scarf was knotted loosely at her neck, adding a pop of color to the otherwise understated look.
Maxine made eye contact with you, offering a polite nod before approaching your table. Her greeting was as refined as ever, the words soft but formal. “Good morning."
You smiled back, gesturing for her to sit. “Morning. I, uh, appreciate you coming out like this."
She shrugged slightly as she took a seat across from you, placing her scarf neatly beside her. “It’s no trouble.”<</if>>
“Did you have anything important to do later?" you asked, watching as $M_heshe perused the menu with a practiced hand, as though scanning for something remotely acceptable among the typical diner fare.
$M_HeShe didn’t look up from the menu as $M_heshe responded.
“I’m free until noon. Then I’ll be helping supervise the decorations for the formal dinner."
Of course. It made sense that $M_heshe would be involved in something like that, overseeing the finer details of an event most students probably wouldn’t even think twice about.
A different waitress than before came by, a middle-aged woman with box-braids and an infectious smile, and $M_name ordered with the same carefulness you’d come to expect.
“Avocado and eggs on toast, please. And iced tea—without cream. Thank you, miss."
You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Once the server left, you glanced at $M_himher, trying to keep the conversation light. “Have I ever told you that you’re way too polite sometimes?"
$M_HeShe gave you a mild look, the corner of $M_hisher mouth twitching ever so slightly.
“Manners are more important than you’d expect."
You nodded, an unspoken gesture of agreement as the silence between you both settled into something comfortable. It wasn’t long before $M_hisher order arrived, the plate placed carefully in front of $M_himher. $M_HeShe inspected the food with a thoughtful expression, taking a sip of the iced tea, followed by a small bite of the toast before letting out a soft sigh.
“It’s fine," $M_heshe said, though you could hear the faintest hint of disappointment in $M_hisher voice. “But the tea back in England... Even the toast, somehow, it tastes different here."
There was a small pause, and you glanced at $M_himher, intrigued.
“Different in a bad way?" you asked.
$M_HeShe shook $M_hisher head, though you could tell $M_heshe wasn’t exactly enjoying it. “It’s not horrendous in any way, just... not the same. It’s like everything here has been altered, even the simplest things. I miss the tea back home."
*[[“Oh, right, of course. I forgot America’s toast could never live up to the legendary standards of the British Isles,” you teased, an exaggerated air of mock reverence in your tone.|M outfit 2.1][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+5]]
*[[You offered a small, apologetic smile, your fingers tracing the rim of your cup. “Yeah, I get it. It’s not the same, and honestly, it never will be. We’re... well, we’re quite different here.”|M outfit 2.2][$Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+5]]
*[[You nodded, your tone more understanding. “I can imagine. There’s something about the taste of home that just doesn’t translate, no matter how hard you try.”|M outfit 2.3][$Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+5]]
*[[“I guess we’ll have to start smuggling tea in for you,” you grinned, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m sure customs won’t mind a few boxes of Earl Grey sneaking past them. It’s all in the name of restoring your faith in breakfast, after all.”|M outfit 2.4][$Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+5]]
*[[“I’m sure it’s hard,” you said simply, no trace of emotion in your voice. “Being away from home, from the things that make life feel normal.”|M outfit 2.5][$Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+5]]
*[[“Ah, yes, because England is so much superior in every possible way,” you drawled, smirking as you took a slow sip of your drink.|M outfit 2.6][$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+1]]<<notify 5s>>+ Sarcastic<</notify>>“Next thing you know, you’ll be telling me our water’s inferior too."
$M_name gave you a flat look, but there was the slightest twitch at the corner of $M_hisher mouth. “Well, it is, actually."
You raised your hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, I’ll give you that one. I’ll just start importing your tea from now on, shall I? Maybe we can rescue breakfast one sip at a time."
$M_name gave you an amused look, shaking $M_hisher head lightly. “I appreciate the thought, but I’m sure I’ll survive."
You let the conversation peter down. But as you both sat there, the quiet murmur of the diner around you, you realized that this—these moments of easy companionship, even amidst the formality—was what made being around $M_name so strangely comforting.
<<button "Next" "M outfit 3">><</button>>
/*[[M outfit 3]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Friendly<</notify>>$M_name gave you an amused look, shaking $M_hisher head lightly. “I appreciate the thought, but I’m sure I’ll survive."
You laughed, leaning back in your seat. “Well, just say the word if you ever need an emergency shipment. I’ve got connections."
“I’ll keep that in mind," $M_heshe replied dryly, but you could see the faintest glimmer of merriment in $M_hisher eyes.
You let the conversation peter down. But as you both sat there, the quiet murmur of the diner around you, you realized that this—these moments of easy companionship, even amidst the formality—was what made being around $M_name so strangely comforting.
<<button "Next" "M outfit 3">><</button>>
/*[[M outfit 3]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Arrogant<</notify>>“Maybe we Americans should just bow down to your majestic tea rituals and admit defeat."
$M_name looked at you with mild disapproval, though you could tell $M_heshe was used to this kind of ribbing.
“Well, it’s not about superiority," $M_heshe said evenly. “Just... standards."
You raised an eyebrow. “Right. Standards. Well, let me know when you’re ready to experience American breakfast at its finest. Until then, enjoy your avocado toast, Your Highness."
$M_HeShe gave you a cool look, but there was a flicker of amusement in $M_hisher eyes as $M_heshe responded, “I’m sure I will."
You let the conversation peter down. But as you both sat there, the quiet murmur of the diner around you, you realized that this—these moments of easy companionship, even amidst the formality—was what made being around $M_name so strangely comforting.
<<button "Next" "M outfit 3">><</button>>
/*[[M outfit 3]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Humble<</notify>>You shrugged, feeling the weight of the conversation settling between you.
“But maybe that’s what makes it interesting, right?" you added softly, eyes meeting $M_hisher. “Different doesn’t always have to be bad. I guess you get used to it after a while."
$M_name studied you for a moment, nodding slightly as if weighing your words. “Perhaps."
You let the conversation peter down. But as you both sat there, the quiet murmur of the diner around you, you realized that this—these moments of easy companionship, even amidst the formality—was what made being around $M_name so strangely comforting.
<<button "Next" "M outfit 3">><</button>>
/*[[M outfit 3]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Genuine<</notify>>You took a sip of your own coffee, trying to picture how much you’d miss certain things if you were far away.
“I mean, I’d probably lose my mind if I couldn’t get a decent bite of Seattle dog," you joked lightly. “But yeah, I get what you mean. It's the little things that remind you where you come from."
$M_name gave you a small, appreciative smile. “Exactly. The details always make a difference."
You let the conversation peter down. But as you both sat there, the quiet murmur of the diner around you, you realized that this—these moments of easy companionship, even amidst the formality—was what made being around $M_name so strangely comforting.
<<button "Next" "M outfit 3">><</button>>
/*[[M outfit 3]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Aloof<</notify>>$M_HeShe glanced at you, perhaps surprised by the straightforwardness of your response, before nodding slightly.
“It’s an adjustment," $M_heshe agreed.
You didn’t say anything further, letting the weight of the moment hang between you both, a silent acknowledgment of the challenge of leaving home behind.
You let the conversation peter down. But as you both sat there, the quiet murmur of the diner around you, you realized that this—these moments of easy companionship, even amidst the formality—was what made being around $M_name so strangely comforting.
<<button "Next" "M outfit 3">><</button>>
/*[[M outfit 3]]*/After paying, you and $M_name stepped out onto Chapel Street, the morning sun spilling across the pavement, and started making your way toward Crown Street. The streets weren’t too crowded yet, giving the walk an almost peaceful atmosphere, despite the steady hum of life around campus.
<<if $M_gender is "male">><<if $MC_height is "very tall">>“So,” you asked after a few moments of silence, hands slipping into your pockets as you casually matched the pace of $M_hisher long legs, “what store did you have in mind for this formalwear thing?”<<elseif $MC_height is "towering">>“So,” you asked after a few moments of silence, hands slipping into your pockets as you matched the pace of $M_hisher long legs with relative ease, “what store did you have in mind for this formalwear thing?”<<else>>“So,” you asked after a few moments of silence, hands slipping into your pockets as you struggled to match the pace of $M_hisher long legs, “what store did you have in mind for this formalwear thing?”
$M_HeShe seemed to notice your plight as $M_heshe slowed down to follow your pace instead.<</if>><<else>><<if $MC_height is "tall">>“So,” you asked after a few moments of silence, hands slipping into your pockets as you casually matched the pace of $M_hisher long legs, “what store did you have in mind for this formalwear thing?”<<elseif $MC_height is "very tall">>“So,” you asked after a few moments of silence, hands slipping into your pockets as you matched the pace of $M_hisher long legs with relative ease, “what store did you have in mind for this formalwear thing?”<<elseif $MC_height is "towering">>“So,” you asked after a few moments of silence, hands slipping into your pockets as you slowed down a little to match the pace of $M_hisher long legs with relative ease, “what store did you have in mind for this formalwear thing?”<<else>>“So,” you asked after a few moments of silence, hands slipping into your pockets as you struggled to match the pace of $M_hisher long legs, “what store did you have in mind for this formalwear thing?”
$M_HeShe seemed to notice your plight as $M_heshe slowed down to follow your pace instead.<</if>><</if>>
$M_name paused briefly, as if considering the question. Then $M_heshe nodded thoughtfully.
<<if $M_gender is "male">>“There’s a place on Crown Street,” he said, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve as he walked. “It’s called The Velvet Stitch. A bit hidden, but they’re quite good—perfection, really. At least, as far as one can expect from somewhere outside Europe.”<<else>>“There’s a place on Crown Street,” she said, adjusting her scarf as she walked. “It’s called The Velvet Stitch. A bit hidden, but they’re quite good—perfection, really. At least, as far as one can expect from somewhere outside Europe.”<</if>>
“Of course,” you teased, grinning. “Only close to perfection in America. We can’t have anything more than that.”
$M_name glanced over at you, $M_hisher mouth curving ever so slightly into what might have been the ghost of a smile.
“Well, perfection is subjective, isn’t it?” $M_heshe said, tone cool but not unkind. “Still, many of the RAs and even some faculty shop there. You’ll find it’s quite... acceptable.”
You nodded, filing the name away. “Sounds fancy.”
“It is,” $M_name agreed, “but you’ll manage. I’m sure they’ll have something suitable for the dinner tonight.”
“I appreciate the suggestion,” you said. $M_name had no reason to help you out like this, yet here $M_heshe was, acting as if this was just another errand.
$M_name waved off your thanks with an elegant flick of $M_hisher wrist.
“No need. Better you look good for the occasion than...” $M_heshe trailed off, a faint smile playing on $M_hisher lips. “Well, it wouldn’t do to show up underdressed at your first formal dinner at Yale, would it?”
“Right,” you said with a nod, following $M_hisher lead as the two of you turned onto another street. “Still, thanks.”
$M_name chuckled but didn’t say anything more, $M_hisher gaze shifting briefly to the buildings lining the street.
<<button "Next" "M outfit 4">><</button>>
/*[[M outfit 4]]*/You let the quiet hang between you for a bit longer before curiosity got the better of you.
“So, how’d you end up here?” you asked, keeping your tone casual. “I mean, Yale? The U.S. in general? Feels like you’d fit right in at Oxford or Cambridge or somewhere equally... posh.”
$M_name hesitated for just a second—a blink, really—but you caught it. $M_HisHer steps slowed slightly before $M_heshe shrugged, $M_hisher gaze fixed ahead.
“Anonymity,” $M_heshe said, voice even. “People expect less of me here. Or rather, they don’t expect anything at all. It’s easier that way.”
You raised a brow. “Easier? That’s not something I expected from you.”
$M_name didn’t look at you, though there was something in $M_hisher expression that suggested $M_heshe was still measuring the distance between you two.
“Perhaps not,” $M_heshe said softly. “But anonymity has its advantages.”
You watched $M_himher for a moment longer, taking in the way $M_heshe kept $M_hisher words carefully guarded, as though letting even one slip too far might give away more than $M_heshe intended. It was strange—$M_heshe always seemed so composed, so effortlessly poised, yet there was something more beneath the surface. Something you couldn’t quite pin down.
*<<link 'You tilted your head, smirking as you looked at $M_name. “I can’t say I relate. People expect a lot from me, but... I don’t mind. It keeps things interesting, you know? Keeps me sharp.”' "M outfit 5.1">><<set $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100); $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100); $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100); $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100); $M_friendship to $M_friendship+2>><</link>>/*[[M outfit 5.1]]*/
*[[“Anonymity is a good reason,” you said, nodding in agreement. “I get that. Sometimes it’s nice to just be... no one for a little while. Just blend in and not have people expect too much from you.”|M outfit 5.2][$Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100); $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100); $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100); $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100); $M_friendship to $M_friendship+5]]
*<<link 'You didn’t respond right away, instead casting a sidelong glance at $M_name, assessing the weight of his words. “I suppose.”' "M outfit 5.3">><<set $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100); $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100); $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100); $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100); $M_friendship to $M_friendship+4>><</link>>/*[[M outfit 5.3]]*/
*[[“You’re not secretly some kind of wanted criminal, are you?” you joked, half-grinning.|M outfit 5.4][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100); $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100); $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100); $M_friendship to $M_friendship+4]]<<notify 5s>>+ Arrogant, + Laidback<</notify>>$M_name gave you a sidelong glance, the faintest hint of mirth in $M_hisher eyes.
“Confidence suits you,” $M_heshe said smoothly, though there was something in $M_hisher tone that made you feel like $M_heshe was carefully withholding judgment.
“Well, someone’s got to carry the weight of expectations, right?” you said, your voice light but laced with underlying pride. “Might as well be me. Better than letting people down.”
$M_name’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “And do you often succeed in meeting those expectations?”
You raised an eyebrow, your smirk widening. “I do alright.”
“‘Alright’?” $M_name echoed, $M_hisher tone slightly teasing now. “From the way you carry yourself, I would have expected more.”
You let out a low chuckle. “Oh, trust me, I exceed them more often than not.”
$M_name laughed, the sound smooth and rich, but there was a glint of something in $M_hisher gaze—something that said $M_heshe wasn’t entirely convinced.
“I’m sure,” $M_heshe said, voice laced with just enough intrigue to make you wonder if $M_heshe was toying with you.
As you neared Crown Street, The Velvet Stitch came into view, tucked neatly between a row of boutiques. It looked exactly how you’d imagine a place $M_name would frequent—sleek, elegant, and a little intimidating.
“Well,” you said, glancing up at the storefront, “guess this is it.”
$M_name nodded, pulling open the door for you. “After you.”
The air inside was cool, the scent of leather and expensive fabrics immediately enveloping you as you stepped in. It was quiet, with only a few other customers browsing the racks, and the whole place gave off a sense of calm exclusivity.
“Impressive,” you muttered, taking it all in.
$M_name just smiled faintly. “I told you.”
As you both made your way toward the formalwear section, you couldn’t help but feel like you were stepping into another world—one that $M_name seemed to navigate with ease, while you were still trying to find your footing. There was something undeniably fascinating about the way $M_heshe carried $M_himself, how $M_heshe seemed to belong here in a way that was almost effortless.
And yet, even as $M_heshe showed you around, pointing out different pieces and offering suggestions, that lingering feeling remained. That sense that $M_name was always holding something back, keeping parts of $M_himself hidden behind that polished exterior.
But for now, you let it slide. There would be time to figure $M_himher out later. Right now, you had formalwear to pick out.
You checked the options out that seemed that they’d suit you the most:
*[[Classic Black Tuxedo with Velvet Lapel|M outfit 6][$formalwear to "Classic Black Tuxedo with Velvet Lapel", $clothes to "tux"]]
*[[Midnight Navy Suit with a Slim Fit|M outfit 6][$formalwear to "Midnight Navy Suit with a Slim Fit", $clothes to "suit"]]
*[[Satin Midnight Blue Gown with a Plunging Neckline|M outfit 6][$formalwear to "Satin Midnight Blue Gown with a Plunging Neckline", $clothes to "gown"]]
*[[Crimson Red Off-Shoulder Dress with a Cinched Waist|M outfit 6][$formalwear to "Crimson Red Off-Shoulder Dress with a Cinched Waist", $clothes to "dress"]]
*[[Dark Green Velvet Suit with Cropped Trousers|M outfit 6][$formalwear to "Dark Green Velvet Suit with Cropped Trousers", $clothes to "suit"]]
*[[Black Double-Breasted Blazer with Wide Leg Trousers|M outfit 6][$formalwear to "Black Double-Breasted Blazer with Wide Leg Trousers", $clothes to "blazer"]]<<notify 5s>>+ Genuine, + Humble<</notify>>$M_name raised an eyebrow, intrigued by your response. “You don’t strike me as the kind of person who blends in.”
You shrugged, smiling at the subtle compliment. “I try, but it doesn’t always work. I’m probably too loud for that.”
“Perhaps,” $M_name said with a small smile, $M_hisher voice lightening a fraction. “But there’s no shame in standing out, you know. As long as you know when to let them see you, and when to fade into the background.”
“Wise advice, college Yoda,” you said, grinning. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
As you neared Crown Street, The Velvet Stitch came into view, tucked neatly between a row of boutiques. It looked exactly how you’d imagine a place $M_name would frequent—sleek, elegant, and a little intimidating.
“Well,” you said, glancing up at the storefront, “guess this is it.”
$M_name nodded, pulling open the door for you. “After you.”
The air inside was cool, the scent of leather and expensive fabrics immediately enveloping you as you stepped in. It was quiet, with only a few other customers browsing the racks, and the whole place gave off a sense of calm exclusivity.
“Impressive,” you muttered, taking it all in.
$M_name just smiled faintly. “I told you.”
As you both made your way toward the formalwear section, you couldn’t help but feel like you were stepping into another world—one that $M_name seemed to navigate with ease, while you were still trying to find your footing. There was something undeniably fascinating about the way $M_heshe carried $M_himself, how $M_heshe seemed to belong here in a way that was almost effortless.
And yet, even as $M_heshe showed you around, pointing out different pieces and offering suggestions, that lingering feeling remained. That sense that $M_name was always holding something back, keeping parts of $M_himself hidden behind that polished exterior.
But for now, you let it slide. There would be time to figure $M_himher out later. Right now, you had formalwear to pick out.
You checked the options out that seemed that they’d suit you the most:
*[[Classic Black Tuxedo with Velvet Lapel|M outfit 6][$formalwear to "Classic Black Tuxedo with Velvet Lapel", $clothes to "tux"]]
*[[Midnight Navy Suit with a Slim Fit|M outfit 6][$formalwear to "Midnight Navy Suit with a Slim Fit", $clothes to "suit"]]
*[[Satin Midnight Blue Gown with a Plunging Neckline|M outfit 6][$formalwear to "Satin Midnight Blue Gown with a Plunging Neckline", $clothes to "gown"]]
*[[Crimson Red Off-Shoulder Dress with a Cinched Waist|M outfit 6][$formalwear to "Crimson Red Off-Shoulder Dress with a Cinched Waist", $clothes to "dress"]]
*[[Dark Green Velvet Suit with Cropped Trousers|M outfit 6][$formalwear to "Dark Green Velvet Suit with Cropped Trousers", $clothes to "suit"]]
*[[Black Double-Breasted Blazer with Wide Leg Trousers|M outfit 6][$formalwear to "Black Double-Breasted Blazer with Wide Leg Trousers", $clothes to "blazer"]]<<notify 5s>>+ Aloof, + Uptight<</notify>>$M_name turned to look at you, $M_hisher expression a bit more curious now, waiting for you to elaborate.
You shrugged, keeping your voice measured, almost neutral. “I’ve never really thought about it. Expectations are just... there, whether I like it or not. It’s not something you can outrun, is it?”
$M_name hummed softly in agreement, but $M_hisher gaze remained sharp. “No, perhaps not. But sometimes you can control how much power those expectations hold over you.”
Your jaw tightened slightly, not because you disagreed, but because part of you wasn’t sure if you could actually do that—let go of those expectations, release their hold.
“Maybe,” you said, your tone clipped but not unfriendly. “But it’s not always easy.”
“No,” $M_name agreed, $M_hisher voice softening. “It never is.”
As you neared Crown Street, The Velvet Stitch came into view, tucked neatly between a row of boutiques. It looked exactly how you’d imagine a place $M_name would frequent—sleek, elegant, and a little intimidating.
“Well,” you said, glancing up at the storefront, “guess this is it.”
$M_name nodded, pulling open the door for you. “After you.”
The air inside was cool, the scent of leather and expensive fabrics immediately enveloping you as you stepped in. It was quiet, with only a few other customers browsing the racks, and the whole place gave off a sense of calm exclusivity.
“Impressive,” you muttered, taking it all in.
$M_name just smiled faintly. “I told you.”
As you both made your way toward the formalwear section, you couldn’t help but feel like you were stepping into another world—one that $M_name seemed to navigate with ease, while you were still trying to find your footing. There was something undeniably fascinating about the way $M_heshe carried $M_himself, how $M_heshe seemed to belong here in a way that was almost effortless.
And yet, even as $M_heshe showed you around, pointing out different pieces and offering suggestions, that lingering feeling remained. That sense that $M_name was always holding something back, keeping parts of $M_himself hidden behind that polished exterior.
But for now, you let it slide. There would be time to figure $M_himher out later. Right now, you had formalwear to pick out.
You checked the options out that seemed that they’d suit you the most:
*[[Classic Black Tuxedo with Velvet Lapel|M outfit 6][$formalwear to "Classic Black Tuxedo with Velvet Lapel", $clothes to "tux"]]
*[[Midnight Navy Suit with a Slim Fit|M outfit 6][$formalwear to "Midnight Navy Suit with a Slim Fit", $clothes to "suit"]]
*[[Satin Midnight Blue Gown with a Plunging Neckline|M outfit 6][$formalwear to "Satin Midnight Blue Gown with a Plunging Neckline", $clothes to "gown"]]
*[[Crimson Red Off-Shoulder Dress with a Cinched Waist|M outfit 6][$formalwear to "Crimson Red Off-Shoulder Dress with a Cinched Waist", $clothes to "dress"]]
*[[Dark Green Velvet Suit with Cropped Trousers|M outfit 6][$formalwear to "Dark Green Velvet Suit with Cropped Trousers", $clothes to "suit"]]
*[[Black Double-Breasted Blazer with Wide Leg Trousers|M outfit 6][$formalwear to "Black Double-Breasted Blazer with Wide Leg Trousers", $clothes to "blazer"]]<<notify 5s>>+ Sarcastic, + Friendly<</notify>>That earned a genuine chuckle from $M_name, though it was short-lived. $M_HeShe glanced at you from the corner of $M_hisher eye, lips twitching into a smirk.
“Maybe,” $M_heshe said, $M_hisher tone oddly cryptic. “Maybe not.”
You laughed, but something in the way $M_heshe said it made you pause. $M_HisHer voice had dropped to that quiet, almost conspiratorial tone, as though $M_heshe was letting you in on a secret without actually telling you anything.
“So, not denying it then?” you pressed, still joking but watching $M_himher closely now.
$M_name finally met your gaze, and for a second, you thought you saw a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. Then, just as quickly, it was gone.
“Some things are better left unsaid,” $M_heshe replied smoothly, that enigmatic smile still playing on $M_hisher lips.
As you neared Crown Street, The Velvet Stitch came into view, tucked neatly between a row of boutiques. It looked exactly how you’d imagine a place $M_name would frequent—sleek, elegant, and a little intimidating.
“Well,” you said, glancing up at the storefront, “guess this is it.”
$M_name nodded, pulling open the door for you. “After you.”
The air inside was cool, the scent of leather and expensive fabrics immediately enveloping you as you stepped in. It was quiet, with only a few other customers browsing the racks, and the whole place gave off a sense of calm exclusivity.
“Impressive,” you muttered, taking it all in.
$M_name just smiled faintly. “I told you.”
As you both made your way toward the formalwear section, you couldn’t help but feel like you were stepping into another world—one that $M_name seemed to navigate with ease, while you were still trying to find your footing. There was something undeniably fascinating about the way $M_heshe carried $M_himself, how $M_heshe seemed to belong here in a way that was almost effortless.
And yet, even as $M_heshe showed you around, pointing out different pieces and offering suggestions, that lingering feeling remained. That sense that $M_name was always holding something back, keeping parts of $M_himself hidden behind that polished exterior.
But for now, you let it slide. There would be time to figure $M_himher out later. Right now, you had formalwear to pick out.
You checked the options out that seemed that they’d suit you the most:
*[[Classic Black Tuxedo with Velvet Lapel|M outfit 6][$formalwear to "Classic Black Tuxedo with Velvet Lapel", $clothes to "tux"]]
*[[Midnight Navy Suit with a Slim Fit|M outfit 6][$formalwear to "Midnight Navy Suit with a Slim Fit", $clothes to "suit"]]
*[[Satin Midnight Blue Gown with a Plunging Neckline|M outfit 6][$formalwear to "Satin Midnight Blue Gown with a Plunging Neckline", $clothes to "gown"]]
*[[Crimson Red Off-Shoulder Dress with a Cinched Waist|M outfit 6][$formalwear to "Crimson Red Off-Shoulder Dress with a Cinched Waist", $clothes to "dress"]]
*[[Dark Green Velvet Suit with Cropped Trousers|M outfit 6][$formalwear to "Dark Green Velvet Suit with Cropped Trousers", $clothes to "suit"]]
*[[Black Double-Breasted Blazer with Wide Leg Trousers|M outfit 6][$formalwear to "Black Double-Breasted Blazer with Wide Leg Trousers", $clothes to "blazer"]]<<if $formalwear is "Classic Black Tuxedo with Velvet Lapel">>You step out in a timeless black tuxedo, tailored to perfection with sleek velvet lapels that catch the light just right. The crisp white dress shirt beneath contrasts sharply, anchored by a black bow tie that gives the whole ensemble a polished, traditional feel. As you adjust the cufflinks and straighten your jacket, the polished black oxfords glisten under the shop’s soft lighting, adding to the air of sophistication.<<elseif $formalwear is "Midnight Navy Suit with a Slim Fit">>You emerge in a deep navy slim-fit suit that feels like a modern twist on the classic. The satin lapels shimmer subtly, paired with a charcoal gray dress shirt left open at the collar, giving the outfit a relaxed yet sharp vibe. No tie this time, just effortless cool, paired with black loafers that keep it grounded. The slim silhouette of the suit hugs you just right, contemporary and chic but still maintaining a formal edge.<<elseif $formalwear is "Satin Midnight Blue Gown with a Plunging Neckline">>The shimmering satin gown drapes across your figure like liquid gold. Its plunging neckline and spaghetti straps accentuate a bold elegance, while the high slit up the leg offers a daring touch. As you glide across the room, the fabric catches the light with every movement, each step accentuated by the click of silver stiletto heels. Paired with a sleek clutch, this gown is a statement—sophisticated and glamorous without being over the top, designed to turn heads.<<elseif $formalwear is "Crimson Red Off-Shoulder Dress with a Cinched Waist">>The off-the-shoulder red dress hugs your figure in all the right places, the fitted bodice cinching your waist before cascading into a flowing, floor-length skirt. There’s a confidence in the way it moves with you, effortlessly elegant yet commanding. Black strappy heels add a touch of sleekness, and the whole look is elevated by a sophisticated updo that shows off your neckline.<<elseif $formalwear is "Dark Green Velvet Suit with Cropped Trousers">>The velvet suit is a masterclass in subtle rebellion, blurring the lines of masculine and feminine with its fitted blazer and slightly cropped trousers. The deep green hue feels luxurious, understated yet rich, while the black silk turtleneck underneath keeps it minimalist, almost mysterious. The patent leather loafers shine, grounding the outfit in quiet confidence.<<elseif $formalwear is "Black Double-Breasted Blazer with Wide Leg Trousers">>A structured black double-breasted blazer with gold buttons commands attention. The wide-leg trousers are tailored to perfection, adding both fluidity and strength to the silhouette, shifting effortlessly between masculine and feminine aesthetics. Beneath the blazer, a crisp white shirt provides a sharp contrast, and the ankle boots give the entire ensemble a refined edge.<</if>>
<<if $clothes is "dress" or $clothes is "gown">>The shop’s soft lighting cast a warm glow across the room as you stepped out of the fitting area, the fabric of your chosen formalwear clinging in all the right places, exuding confidence and poise. As you adjusted the neckline, you saw $M_name glance over from where $M_heshe had been idly examining another rack of garments.<<else>>The shop’s soft lighting cast a warm glow across the room as you stepped out of the fitting area, the fabric of your chosen formalwear clinging in all the right places, exuding confidence and poise. As you adjusted the lapel, you saw $M_name glance over from where $M_heshe had been idly examining another rack of garments.<</if>>
At first, $M_hisher reaction was subtle—a widening of the eyes, an almost imperceptible tightening of $M_hisher lips as $M_heshe blinked, as if caught off guard. For a moment, $M_heshe looked genuinely taken aback, as though the image of you in the outfit had momentarily disrupted the smooth, glassy exterior $M_heshe always maintained.
But just as quickly as that fleeting moment of awe appeared, $M_name masked it with the practiced ease of someone used to covering their reactions. A small smile played at the corner of $M_hisher mouth, and $M_heshe folded $M_hisher hands in front of $M_himher, the picture of casual elegance. When $M_heshe spoke, $M_hisher voice was measured, smooth as ever, though there was an unmistakable note of charm in $M_hisher tone that you don’t think $M_heshe was even trying to use.
“Well,” $M_heshe said, $M_hisher gaze sweeping over you appreciatively, “I can confidently say no one else in the room will come close to matching that level of... presence.”
The way $M_heshe said it was deliberate, almost teasing, but there was an undercurrent of genuine admiration there too—like $M_heshe couldn’t help but be impressed, even if $M_heshe wouldn’t fully admit it. $M_HeShe stood there, effortlessly poised, one hand sliding into the pocket of $M_hisher trousers, eyes still lingering on you with a subtle intensity that said more than $M_hisher words ever could.
*<<link 'You could feel yourself shying away under $M_hisher gaze, the way $M_hisher eyes seemed to take in every detail of your appearance making your heart beat a little faster. [♥︎]' "M outfit 7.1">><<set $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100); $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100); $M_romance to $M_romance+1>><</link>>
*<<link 'You let $M_name’s compliment hang in the air for a moment, savoring the subtle shift in $M_hisher posture, the way $M_heshe couldn’t quite take $M_hisher eyes off you. [♥︎]' "M outfit 7.2">><<set $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100); $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100); $M_romance to $M_romance+1>><</link>>
*<<link 'You didn’t quite catch the way $M_name had been looking at you at first—too focused on making sure the fit was just right. [♥︎]' "M outfit 7.3">><<set $M_romance to $M_romance+1; $M_oblivious to $M_oblivious+1>><</link>>
/*[[M outfit 7.1]] [[M outfit 7.2]] [[M outfit 7.3]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Shy<</notify>>You looked down for a moment, pretending to smooth out an imaginary wrinkle in the fabric of your outfit, trying to compose yourself. It wasn’t often that someone like $M_name, with all $M_hisher tranquility and charm, made you feel self-conscious.
“Thanks,” you murmured, a bit sheepish. “I wasn’t sure it’d suit me at first, but... I guess it turned out alright.”
You glanced up at $M_himher through your lashes, biting your lip in a way you hoped was subtle. There was a warmth in $M_hisher gaze now, a flicker of something softer beneath $M_hisher stoic exterior. And though $M_hisher smile remained faintly mirthful, there was no denying the sincerity in $M_hisher words.
“Alright?” $M_heshe repeated, $M_hisher voice taking on a gently playful lilt. “If by ‘alright,’ you mean completely dazzling, then yes, I’d say it turned out just fine.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking your head in mild disbelief. “You’re exaggerating.”
“So you’d like to believe,” $M_name replied, $M_hisher smile widening just a fraction, “but I’m rarely ever wrong.”
Your heart skipped a beat at the way $M_heshe said it, so casually confident, and suddenly you weren’t sure what to do with the warmth creeping up your neck. You weren’t used to feeling so... seen, especially by someone as composed as $M_name. And while you appreciated the compliment, the attention was still something that left you feeling a little flustered.
“Well,” you said, voice quieter than usual, “thanks.”
For a moment, the air between you both seemed charged with some form of an understanding, maybe, or a silent acknowledgment of the unexpected connection that had started to form. But you weren’t sure you were ready to confront whatever that was just yet, so instead, you offered $M_himher a small smile, hoping it would be enough to carry you through this moment without giving too much away.
<<button "Next" "M outfit 8">><</button>>
/*[[M outfit 8]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Bold<</notify>>It was almost amusing, seeing $M_himher caught so off guard, and you weren’t one to shy away from a little banter, especially when it came with that rare flicker of vulnerability.
“Oh, is that so?” you replied, quirking an eyebrow as you gave a slow, deliberate turn in front of $M_himher. The fabric of your outfit shifted with you, catching the light, and you couldn’t help but enjoy the way $M_hisher gaze followed every movement. “I thought you were the expert in these matters, but it sounds like you might be the one getting shown up.”
$M_name’s smirk deepened, but there was no denying the glint of admiration in $M_hisher eyes, even as $M_heshe tried to maintain $M_hisher smooth exterior.
“I’m not so much of a sore loser who cannot admit defeat when one is so... thoroughly bested,” $M_heshe said, $M_hisher voice as posh and measured as ever, though there was something more playful lurking beneath $M_hisher words now. “Though I must say, you wear it well. A certain... panache, if you will.”
You let out a soft laugh, feeling the confidence grow in you as you met $M_hisher gaze head-on. “I think you’re just mad that I’m pulling it off better than you thought I would.”
$M_name chuckled, shaking $M_hisher head with a slight tilt of admiration. “On the contrary, I never doubted you for a second. I just didn’t realize I’d be left scrambling to keep up.”
You stepped closer to $M_himher, just enough to close the distance between you without it feeling too obvious.
“Well, don’t worry,” you said with a teasing grin. “I won’t tell anyone that you’ve been ‘bested.’ Your secret’s safe with me.”
$M_name’s eyes gleamed with amusement.
“How kind of you,” $M_heshe said, $M_hisher voice dropping slightly in tone, making the space between you feel that much more charged. “But somehow, I don’t think you’ll let me forget.”
“Not a chance,” you replied, your grin widening as you stepped back, feeling the electric thrill of the exchange still crackling in the air between you.
<<button "Next" "M outfit 8">><</button>>
/*[[M outfit 8]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Oblivious<</notify>>It wasn’t until you glanced up that you noticed $M_hisher slight hesitation, the lingering look that you might’ve missed if you weren’t paying attention.
“Thanks,” you said simply, flashing $M_himher a quick smile before giving a slight tug at your outfit. “I figured this one was more my style.”
$M_name blinked, $M_hisher posture straightening as if $M_heshe hadn’t quite expected your response.
“Yes,” $M_heshe said, recovering smoothly. “It... suits you. Very well.”
You nodded, oblivious to the undercurrent in $M_hisher voice. “I thought so too! It’s hard to find something that strikes that balance, you know? Especially when you’re trying not to look like you’re trying too hard.”
$M_name’s lips twitched into a smile, but it was a bit more restrained this time, as if $M_heshe were keeping some part of $M_hisher reaction to $M_himself.
“Indeed,” $M_heshe agreed, $M_hisher voice smooth. “Effortless, yet intentional. Quite the combination.”
“Exactly!” you said, missing the subtle compliment buried in $M_hisher words. “Anyway, I’m glad you helped me pick this one out. I think it’ll work for the event.”
$M_name chuckled softly, shaking $M_hisher head slightly.
“Yes,” $M_heshe said, more to $M_himself than to you. “I think it will.”
The conversation moved forward, but there was a slight smile still on $M_name’s face, as if $M_heshe was quietly amused by your lack of awareness. You might not have noticed the way $M_heshe looked at you, but it was clear that $M_heshe hadn’t missed a thing.
<<button "Next" "M outfit 8">><</button>>
/*[[M outfit 8]]*/You handed your Amex Centurion card to the clerk, watching them swipe it with an air of quiet efficiency. The transaction went through without a hitch, and before long, you were walking out of The Velvet Stitch beside $M_name, feeling the cool breeze of Crown Street hit you as you both stepped back into the world beyond the finely tailored clothes and curated atmosphere of the shop.
$M_HeShe glanced over at you, a thoughtful expression playing on $M_hisher face.
“You know,” $M_heshe said, “there’s something I need to pick up before we head back.”
You raised a brow, intrigued. “Oh? What’s that?”
“A book,” $M_name replied, $M_hisher voice carrying a certain casual elegance that always made $M_hisher words sound more deliberate than they were. “For one of my classes. Philosophy, actually.”
You couldn’t help but smirk a little. “Of course. Let me guess, it’s something dense and existential? Nietzsche? Sartre? Something to remind us all of how small and insignificant we are in the grand cosmic order?”
$M_name chuckled at that, the corners of $M_hisher mouth lifting into a faint smile. “Close, but not quite. I’m looking for a copy of <em>Being and Time</em> by Martin Heidegger. It’s for one of my philosophy courses. The bookstore on campus was out of stock, but Atticus should have it.”
“Ah, <em>Being and Time</em>,” you said, letting the name roll off your tongue with exaggerated grandeur. “Nothing like a little ontological exploration to really brighten your day.”
$M_name gave you a sidelong glance, amusement flickering in $M_hisher eyes. “You mock, but you’ve clearly read it.”
“Once in high school for an AP class,” you admitted with a shrug. “Don’t ask me to explain it, though. I think my brain’s still recovering.”
$M_name laughed, the sound rich and smooth, and for a moment, you could almost forget how carefully practiced all $M_hisher actions seemed to be.
“Well, you’re welcome to come with me and relive the intellectual trauma,” $M_heshe said. “Unless, of course, you have somewhere else to be?”
You shook your head. “No, I’m free. Lead the way.”
<<button "Next" "M outfit 9">><</button>>
/*[[M outfit 9]]*/“So,” you asked as you walked, “what made you pick Being and Time? Was it assigned, or did you choose it out of some deep personal fascination with the nature of being?”
“It was assigned,” $M_name admitted. “But I do find it fascinating. There’s something about Heidegger’s approach to time and existence that’s... unsettling, but in a way that makes you want to keep digging.”
You nodded thoughtfully. “I get that. It’s the kind of unsettling that makes you question everything, even the things you thought you had a firm grasp on.”
“Exactly,” $M_name said, a spark of enthusiasm lighting up $M_hisher usually calm demeanor. “I suppose that’s what makes philosophy so compelling. It’s never about finding the answers—it’s about questioning the right things.”
There was a brief pause as you both navigated the crosswalk, the light changing to let you pass. Once you were safely on the other side, you glanced over at $M_name, curiosity still tugging at your thoughts.
“And is that what you’re after?” you asked. “The right questions?”
$M_name tilted $M_hisher head slightly, considering your words. “I suppose so. I’ve always been more interested in the questions than the answers. There’s something liberating about knowing that not everything can be explained, that some things are meant to be pondered rather than solved.”
You grinned at that. “Socrates at heart, then.”
$M_name gave you a sidelong glance, $M_hisher smile faint but genuine. “More like Plato. Though I wouldn’t go so far as to claim any real expertise.”
*<<link '“Well, don’t worry,” you said with a teasing smirk, folding your arms casually as you walked beside $M_name. “I’m not planning to test you on it. Though if I did, I’m sure you’d ace the existential dread portion.”' "M outfit 10.1">><<set $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100); $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100); $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100); $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100); $M_friendship to $M_friendship+4>><</link>>
*<<link '“Sounds like you’ve already put in the work to understand it,” you said warmly, your voice sincere as you glanced at $M_name.' "M outfit 10.2">><<set $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100); $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100); $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100); $M_friendship to $M_friendship+5>><</link>>
*<<link '“I’m sure we’d be here all day if we were going to test out all your theories,” you said, your tone cool and confident as you shot $M_name a side glance.' "M outfit 10.3">><<set $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100); $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100); $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100); $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100); $M_friendship to $M_friendship+4>><</link>>
/*[[M outfit 10.1]] [[M outfit 10.2]] [[M outfit 10.3]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Sarcastic, + Laidback<</notify>>$M_name raised an eyebrow at you, amusement flickering in $M_hisher eyes. “The existential dread portion? I didn’t realize that was a graded subject.”
“Oh, it’s definitely graded,” you shot back, your grin widening. “I think it’s, like, half of what life at Yale is, right? Trying not to drown under the weight of your own thoughts while acting like you’ve got it all together.”
$M_name chuckled, but there was a distant look in $M_hisher eyes, as though the weight of your words hit a little closer to home than you’d intended. “I suppose if that’s the case, I’ve been doing a lot of extra credit.”
You glanced over at $M_himher, noticing how carefully $M_heshe held onto that last statement, balancing it somewhere between humor and truth.
“I don’t doubt it,” you said, the teasing edge still in your voice, though softer now. “But, hey, as long as we’re all in the same sinking boat, right?”
$M_name gave a brief nod, the corners of $M_hisher mouth twitching in a subtle smile. “Right. Sinking boats and existential crises—it’s all very collegiate.”
<<button "Next" "M outfit 11">><</button>>
/*[[M outfit 11]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Friendly, + Genuine<</notify>>$M_name gave you a slight, appreciative smile, the kind that was more in the eyes than the lips. “Understanding it is one thing,” $M_heshe replied softly, “living it is something else entirely.”
There was something heavy in the way $M_heshe said it, something that made you wonder what, exactly, $M_heshe meant.
“Yeah,” you said, your tone a little more contemplative now. “I guess that’s the hard part—trying to take what you’ve read, what you think you know, and make sense of it in real life.”
$M_name nodded slightly, $M_hisher gaze distant, as though reflecting on something deeper. “Exactly. It’s easy to theorize, but when you’re living in it… well, the lines blur. What’s true in theory doesn’t always translate.”
You watched $M_himher for a second, noticing the quiet seriousness in $M_hisher features.
“Still,” you said, “the fact that you’re even asking the questions—trying to figure it out—that’s more than most people do.”
$M_name turned toward you, and this time, $M_hisher smile reached $M_hisher eyes fully. “That’s kind of you to say, but I think we’re all just trying to make sense of things, in our own way.”
You nodded in agreement, feeling a quiet understanding pass between you, one that didn’t need further explanation.
<<button "Next" "M outfit 11">><</button>>
/*[[M outfit 11]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Arrogant, + Uptight<</notify>>$M_name let out a low chuckle, one that seemed both amused and slightly intrigued. “You assume I have an endless supply of theories to subject you to.”
“Don’t you?” you replied, your eyebrows raised, the smirk on your face evident. “I mean, you’re clearly someone who’s thought about this stuff way more than the average person.”
$M_name tilted $M_hisher head thoughtfully, as if weighing your words. “Maybe so. But, it’s not the quantity of thoughts that matter. It’s the quality of them.”
You laughed, a short, sharp sound. “Quality, huh? That sounds like something people say when they’re trying to hide just how much is going on up there.”
$M_name didn’t answer right away, but there was a glint in $M_hisher eyes as $M_heshe turned back to you.
“Perhaps,” $M_heshe said, a touch of coolness in $M_hisher voice. “But some things are better left hidden, don’t you think?”
You raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, absolutely,” you replied, your voice low and confident. “But only if you’re good at keeping secrets.”
$M_name smiled again, a slow, deliberate smile. “Oh, I’m excellent at it.”
<<button "Next" "M outfit 11">><</button>>
/*[[M outfit 11]]*/As you approached Atticus, the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee and the subtle mustiness of well-worn pages wafted toward you, a comforting blend that always felt like a warm invitation. The bookstore was nestled in the corner of Chapel Street, its glass windows giving a glimpse of the shelves inside, packed to the brim with books of all genres. It was a place that seemed to hold a quiet kind of magic, where time slowed just a little, and the world outside seemed to fade into the background.
$M_name pushed open the door, the soft jingle of the bell overhead signaling your arrival. Inside, the space was cozy, with dark wood shelving and plush armchairs scattered throughout. The café section was small but inviting, with the low whispers of conversation and the occasional clink of ceramic cups filling the air.
$M_name made a beeline for the philosophy section, scanning the shelves with the practiced eye of someone who knew exactly what they were looking for. You followed close behind, your fingers idly brushing against the spines of the books as you passed by, soaking in the comforting presence of so many words just waiting to be read.
“There it is,” $M_name said, pulling a copy of Being and Time from the shelf. The book was thick, its cover black, the title embossed in simple white lettering. $M_HeShe flipped it open briefly, skimming the first few pages before nodding in quiet satisfaction. “Perfect.”
You leaned against the shelf beside $M_himher, watching as $M_heshe looked through the book more. “So, what’s the game plan? Are you going to read the whole thing in one sitting, or are you going to spread out the existential dread over the course of the semester?”
$M_name chuckled lightly, shaking $M_hisher head. “As tempting as it is to dive in headfirst, I think I’ll pace myself. I’ve learned that with Heidegger, it’s best to take things in small doses.”
“Wise choice,” you said, nodding sagely. “Too much Heidegger in one sitting and you might start questioning the nature of reality itself.”
$M_name shot you a sideways glance, merriment clear in $M_hisher eyes. “Or worse—I might start questioning the nature of this conversation.”
*<<link 'You grinned, leaning your shoulder into the bookshelf beside $M_himher. “Well, I’d recommend questioning reality before this conversation. Reality’s far more suspicious, trust me. But this conversation? Totally above board.”' "M outfit 12.1">><<set $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100); $M_friendship to $M_friendship+5>><</link>>
*[[You offered a small, almost imperceptible smile. “Question away. I’m not sure it’ll change much, though. Sometimes conversations just... are what they are.”|M outfit 12.2][$Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+5]]
*[[You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Oh, please do. Question everything. Especially this conversation. Maybe we’ll uncover some dark, hidden truths about small talk.”|M outfit 12.3][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+5]]
*[[You gave a half-smirk, your tone confident. “Oh, please. If you start questioning reality because of this conversation, it just means I’m doing something right.”|M outfit 12.4][$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+4]]
*[[You chuckled, but there was something sincere behind it. “If that happens, I’ll bring you some English tea. That always helps with questioning reality.”|M outfit 12.5][$Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+5]]
/*[[M outfit 12.1]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Friendly<</notify>>$M_name chuckled, the sound light but genuine. “Is that so?”
“Absolutely,” you said, gesturing around the store. “I mean, how could it not be? We’re in a bookstore, surrounded by some of the smartest people in history. It’s like they’re silently approving of everything we say.”
$M_HeShe smirked, following your gaze across the rows of dusty spines. “I’m not sure Heidegger would approve of us trivializing his work in a casual conversation.”
“Well, then that’s his problem, isn’t it?” you replied with a laugh. “Maybe he should’ve made it more accessible.”
$M_name shook $M_hisher head, though there was a smile tugging at the corners of $M_hisher lips. “I suppose we’ll never know. But if I start questioning everything because of this book, I’ll hold you personally responsible.”
You raised your hands in mock surrender. “I accept no responsibility for any existential crises that may arise. But I will bring snacks if it gets that bad.”
$M_name laughed again, the sound low and pleasant. “I’ll hold you to that.”
<<button "Next" "M outfit 13">><</button>>
/*[[M outfit 13]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Aloof<</notify>>$M_name glanced at you, a faint glimmer of curiosity in $M_hisher gaze. “That’s one way of looking at it.”
You shrugged, crossing your arms unconcernedly. “Some things don’t need to be dissected. This—” you gestured vaguely between the two of you— “is just a conversation. No need to unravel it.”
$M_name studied you for a moment, as if considering your words carefully. “And you’re fine with that? Letting things exist without explanation?”
You met $M_hisher gaze, holding it steady. “Sometimes, yeah. There’s enough in life that doesn’t make sense. I don’t need to make every little thing a puzzle.”
$M_HeShe nodded slowly, though there was a subtle tension in $M_hisher posture, like $M_heshe wasn’t entirely convinced. “I suppose that’s one way to avoid the weight of constant analysis.”
“Or maybe,” you said, your voice calm but firm, “it’s a way of letting things be what they are without overcomplicating them.”
$M_name considered this for a long moment before giving a quiet hum of acknowledgment. “Perhaps you’re right. Let’s agree to disagree.”
<<button "Next" "M outfit 13">><</button>>
/*[[M outfit 13]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Sarcastic<</notify>>$M_name chuckled as $M_heshe tucked the book more firmly under $M_hisher arm. “I’d be shocked if there were any hidden truths here. But then again, that’s the nature of Heidegger, isn’t it? You think you know something, and then—”
“—boom. Existential crisis,” you finished, grinning. “Suddenly, you’re questioning if that coffee you had this morning was real or just a construct of your mind.”
“Exactly,” $M_heshe said, $M_hisher tone light and $M_hisher eyes sharp with humor. “It’s a dangerous game.”
You waved a hand dismissively. “Nah, I think the real danger is taking all of this too seriously. I mean, come on, we’re standing in a bookstore, about to debate the nature of reality. That’s, like, peak cliché.”
$M_name smiled fully now, shaking $M_hisher head. “You may have a point. But clichés exist for a reason.”
“Oh, don’t start with that,” you said, rolling your eyes dramatically. “Next, you’ll tell me we’re all living inside a simulation, and nothing we do matters.”
$M_HeShe raised an eyebrow, the teasing glint in $M_hisher eyes returning. “Well, aren’t we?”
You laughed. “You need to stop reading so many books.”
<<button "Next" "M outfit 13">><</button>>
/*[[M outfit 13]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Arrogant<</notify>>$M_name raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “You’re taking credit for my existential crisis now?”
“Why not?” you said with a shrug, a hint of mischief in your eyes. “I mean, if my conversation skills are deep enough to make you question the nature of existence, I’d say that’s an achievement.”
$M_name laughed softly, shaking $M_hisher head. “I’m not sure if that’s something to be proud of.”
“Of course it is,” you shot back. “Who else can say they’ve brought someone to the brink of a philosophical meltdown just by talking about Heidegger?”
$M_name smiled, clearly amused but not entirely sold. “You certainly have a unique perspective.”
“I prefer to call it... advanced conversational skills,” you said, the smirk never leaving your face. “Not everyone can handle it.”
$M_name gave a small chuckle, the playful tension between you both unmistakable. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
<<button "Next" "M outfit 13">><</button>>
/*[[M outfit 13]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Genuine, + Humble<</notify>>$M_name gave you a soft smile, the warmth in $M_hisher expression a quiet contrast to the philosophical conversation. “Tea as a cure for existential crises? I like that idea.”
“It’s not the worst strategy,” you said with a shrug. “When life gets too heavy, sometimes it’s the little things that keep us grounded.”
$M_name nodded, $M_hisher gaze thoughtful as $M_heshe looked at you. “That’s true. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that in the midst of everything.”
You smiled, your voice softening. “Yeah. We get caught up in big questions, but the answers don’t always come from there, you know? Sometimes they’re in the simplest things—like a cup of tea or a good conversation.”
$M_name glanced down at the book in $M_hisher hands, then back at you, something quiet passing between you both.
“I think you might be right,” $M_heshe said quietly. “Maybe it’s not about finding all the answers. Maybe it’s just about asking the right questions.”
You nodded, the moment stretching in comfortable silence. “Exactly.”
<<button "Next" "M outfit 13">><</button>>
/*[[M outfit 13]]*/As $M_name moved toward the counter to pay for the book, you followed, glancing around the bookstore with a sense of contentment. There was something about the space that felt timeless, as though the outside world didn’t quite exist here—just you, $M_name, and the quiet presence of so many stories waiting to be told.
After $M_name paid for the book, you both made your way toward the exit, the soft jingle of the doorbell once again signaling your departure. Outside, the noon sun had begun to rise higher in the sky, the shadows disappearing as you walked side by side.
“You know,” $M_name said, breaking the silence after a while, “I didn’t expect today to go this way.”
You glanced at $M_himher, curious. “What do you mean?”
$M_HeShe tilted $M_hisher head slightly, as if considering how to phrase $M_hisher thoughts. “I mean, I wasn’t planning on spending my morning helping someone pick out formalwear. Or having a conversation about philosophy, for that matter.”
You smiled. “And yet, here we are.”
“And yet,” $M_heshe echoed softly, a trace of wonder in $M_hisher voice. “I suppose there are worse ways to spend a morning.”
The sun climbed higher as you approached campus, the familiar buildings now coming into view. There was a gentle breeze, the air fresh and crisp, and for a moment, it was as if the world had slowed just enough to savor the moment.
When you reached outside your residential hall, you both slowed down, an unspoken reluctance hanging in the air. It felt almost strange to part ways now, as though the late morning had woven some invisible thread between you—one that didn’t want to be severed just yet.
$M_name glanced at you, that familiar unreadable expression returning just for a moment, before $M_heshe relaxed again.
“Well,” $M_heshe began, pulling out $M_hisher phone to check something, “I guess this is where we part ways. I need to meet up with some of the other Blackthorne RAs at Rathore College to help out with the dinner decorations soon.”
You nodded, a slight pang of demurral tugging at you as well. “Yeah, good luck.”
For a moment, you both stood there. Then, almost as if on cue, $M_name spoke again. “We should probably exchange numbers. In case you need help with any more last-minute wardrobe crises—or philosophical debates.”
*[[You laughed, pulling out your phone. “Right, because clearly, I’m prone to existential fashion emergencies.”|M outfit 14.1][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+4]]
*[[You smirked as you pulled out your phone. “Are you sure it’s not just an excuse to get my number?”|M outfit 14.2][$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+4]]
*[[You chuckled lightly and shrugged. “Hey, I’m just happy to have survived the whole formalwear situation. But yeah, I’d appreciate your help again if I ever need it.”|M outfit 14.3][$Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+5]]
*[[You hesitated for a second before pulling out your phone. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to impose, but... thank you.”|M outfit 14.4][$Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+5]]
*[[You offered a warm smile and pulled out your phone. “I think that’s a fair trade. We’ll call it even.”|M outfit 14.5][$Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100), $M_friendship to $M_friendship+5]]<<notify 5s>>+ Sarcastic<</notify>>The words slipped out of your mouth with ease, a half-smirk tugging at your lips as you glanced at $M_name. The chemistry between you two more playful now. $M_HeShe raised an eyebrow, not entirely suppressing $M_hisher own smile, as if $M_heshe were just about to tease you back.
“Are you suggesting otherwise?” $M_heshe asked, voice lilting with mock offense.
You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you exchanged phones. “Touché.”
“You said it, not me.”
You both exchanged numbers, NameDropping each other’s contact into your phones.
<<button "Next" "M outfit 15">><</button>>/*[[M outfit 15]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Arrogant<</notify>>You leaned in ever so slightly, letting your words hang in the air with just the right amount of cockiness. The smile on your face wasn’t just playful—it carried a knowing edge, a challenge. You watched $M_name closely, and for the briefest moment, you thought you caught a flicker of surprise in $M_hisher eyes before $M_heshe composed himself.
$M_HeShe met your gaze, a slow, smooth smile spreading across $M_hisher face. “I didn’t think I needed an excuse.”
It was a perfect return, $M_hisher voice low and steady, filled with that unflappable confidence you had come to associate with $M_himher. You blinked, mildly impressed, but you weren’t about to let $M_himher get the satisfaction of that.
“Good to know,” you murmured, presenting your phone, a smirk still tugging at your lips as you exchanged contacts via NameDrop.
<<button "Next" "M outfit 15">><</button>>/*[[M outfit 15]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Laidback<</notify>>You let the words roll off your tongue with an easygoing smile, no pressure, no overthinking. It was just another moment in a day that had been surprisingly pleasant. The exchange of numbers felt casual, natural—no big deal. You handed over your phone to NameDrop, watching as $M_heshe does the same with the same relaxed energy.
$M_HeShe smiled, a bit more at ease now. “Glad to be of service.”
There was no need to make it a grand gesture. It was just two people, sharing a good moment, making sure they could keep in touch if they ever needed to. A kind of friendship that does not need to be said out loud for it to begin.
<<button "Next" "M outfit 15">><</button>>/*[[M outfit 15]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Humble<</notify>>Your words came out quietly, almost tentative, as though you weren’t entirely sure you deserved the offer. There was a hint of self-deprecation in your smile, but when $M_name glanced at you, you could tell $M_heshe understood. $M_HeShe wasn’t just offering out of politeness—there was something sincere behind it.
“Don’t worry about it,” $M_heshe said, $M_hisher voice softer than usual. “It’s really no trouble.”
You handed over your phone to NameDrop, feeling a bit lighter now. There was a quiet humility in the gesture, but also a silent understanding that sometimes, it’s okay to accept help when it’s offered.
<<button "Next" "M outfit 15">><</button>>/*[[M outfit 15]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Friendly<</notify>>There was no hesitation in your tone, only the easy sincerity of someone comfortable in their skin. The morning had been pleasant, and now the idea of exchanging numbers felt natural—just the next step in a friendship that had already started forming.
You turned on AirDrop and presented your phone, noticing the way $M_heshe relaxed a bit, the tension between you melting away as your phones touched and NameDropped each other’s contact into the other’s device.
$M_HeShe smiled back, something softer in $M_hisher eyes. “I’m glad we agree.”
It wasn’t just the words—it was the way $M_heshe said them, with an understated warmth that suggested this connection, however new, meant something to $M_himher as well.
You tucked your phone back into your pocket, feeling content, like this had been a small but significant step.
<<button "Next" "M outfit 15">><</button>>/*[[M outfit 15]]*/As you both stood there, neither of you seemed to be in any hurry to leave, even though the conversation had technically come to an end. It was one of those moments that felt suspended in time, like the end of a scene in a book where the characters haven’t quite turned the page yet.
Finally, $M_name nodded, $M_hisher expression softening into something a little more genuine. “Thanks again for today.”
“You too,” you said, offering a smile that felt easy, natural. “It was fun.”
$M_HeShe smiled back. “It was.”
With one last glance, $M_name turned, starting to walk down the path that led to Rathore College. You watched $M_himher for a second before turning in the opposite direction, heading back toward your own dorm.
<<button "Next" "Formal dinner">><</button>>/*[[Formal dinner]]*/It was a little past 2 p.m. when the knock echoed through the suite, breaking the stillness. With a quick glance in the mirror to make sure you didn’t look like a complete mess, you crossed the common area to the door and pulled it open. $D_name was there, leaning casually against the frame, a lopsided grin already on $D_hisher face.
“Right on time,” you said, stepping aside to let $D_himher in.
“I try,” $D_name replied, holding up a bottle of fake blood and a backpack like it was a prized possession. “Figured we’d need these.”
You raised an eyebrow, closing the door behind $D_himher. “For the outfit?”
“For authenticity,” $D_name corrected, $D_hisher grin widening as $D_heshe stepped further into the suite, eyes wandering curiously. “You know, if we’re going horror, we might as well go all out. Half-assing it isn’t really my style.”
You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Of course not.”
The two of you moved through the living space toward your room, the apprehension from earlier now settling into something more familiar, more comfortable. Still, there was that subtle awareness that came with letting someone into your personal space. As you opened the door to your room, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of nervousness as $D_name walked in.
$D_HeShe glanced around, taking in the sight of your desk with your Macbook and a framed photograph, the bed slightly unmade, the small shelf of books in the corner. There was a sense of recently moved-in chaos about the room—messy, but not overwhelmingly so. It was your space, your corner of the world.
“Not bad,” $D_name said, turning to you with a smile. “Definitely more organized than I expected.”
*[[You smirked. “How do you know that I didn’t just shove everything in my closet?”|D outfit 2.1][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100), $D_friendship to $D_friendship+5]]
*[[You shrugged casually, leaning back against the bed. “I try to keep things... simple. Life’s already complicated enough, right?”|D outfit 2.2][$Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100), $D_friendship to $D_friendship+4]]
*[[You smirked, your ego stroked as you crossed your arms. “Yeah, I’m a bit of a neat freak. I like things a certain way.”|D outfit 2.3][$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100), $D_friendship to $D_friendship+4]]
*[[You laughed softly, rubbing the back of your neck. “Honestly? I wasn’t expecting you to even notice.”|D outfit 2.4][$Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100), $D_friendship to $D_friendship+5]]<<notify 5s>>+ Sarcastic, + Friendly<</notify>>$D_name raised an eyebrow, leaning against your dresser with that casual, almost lazy confidence that $D_heshe seemed to carry with $D_himher everywhere.
“Because, believe me, I know what a last-minute shove looks like. And this”—$D_heshe gestured to your room with an exaggerated wave—“is too deliberate. Too neat.”
You snorted, crossing your arms. “You’re assuming I’m not just really good at faking it.”
$D_name gave you a slow, knowing grin. “Oh, trust me, I would know.”
You weren’t quite sure why you found $D_himher so easy to banter with, why the distance you usually kept up around new people felt a little more flimsy around $D_himher. Maybe it was the fact that $D_heshe didn’t take anything too seriously. Maybe it was the way $D_heshe didn’t tiptoe around things like other people did.
“Alright, fine,” you conceded with a grin. “I didn’t shove everything in the closet. But I’ve got a laundry basket with a questionable amount of socks hiding under the bed.”
$D_name smirked, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Now that, I believe.”
As $D_name wandered over to exploring the contents on your desk, $D_hisher eyes landed on the framed photograph, and $D_heshe paused, leaning in for a closer look.
“Is that you?” $D_heshe asked, glancing back at you with a surprised expression.
You followed his gaze to it—an image of you at six years old, standing between your parents. The three of you were at a beach in Hawaii, all sunburnt and squinting against the bright light. Your dad had $D_hisher arm slung over your mom’s shoulders, and your younger self stood between them, grinning widely at the camera. It was one of the very few summers that your parents had spent with each other after you turned two.
“Yeah,” you said softly, walking over to join $D_himher. “That was... a long time ago.”
$D_name looked back at the photo, a smile tugging at the corner of $D_hisher mouth. “It’s cute. You look just like your mom.”
There it was. You swallowed, forcing a smile onto your face. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”
$D_name nodded, turning the photo over in $D_hisher hands. “She’s beautiful.”
“She was,” you said quietly. “She... uh, she passed away almost eight years ago.”
The silence hung heavy for a moment, like the air had suddenly shifted between you two.
“I’m sorry,” $D_name said softly. It wasn’t a pity-filled sorry, not the kind you had grown used to hearing from people who didn’t know what else to say. $D_HeShe didn’t try to fix it or fill the space with meaningless words. Just that simple acknowledgment.
You shrugged, trying to push past the tightness in your chest. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”
$D_name watched you for a moment, $D_hisher eyes searching your face as though $D_heshe wanted to say something more, something meaningful. But instead, $D_heshe simply nodded, respecting the boundaries of the conversation without pressing further.
“I get it,” $D_heshe said softly. “Family stuff’s always... complicated.”
*[[“Speaking from experience?” you asked sardonically.|D outfit 3.1][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $D_friendship to $D_friendship+1]]
*[[“That’s one way to look at it,” you replied, folding your arms across your chest with a friendly smile. “I guess everyone’s got their ways of dealing with stuff, huh?”|D outfit 3.2][$Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100), $D_friendship to $D_friendship+5]]
*[[Your gaze dropped to your hands, which were resting awkwardly in your lap, fingers twitching as if unsure what to do. [♥︎]|D outfit 3.3][$Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100), $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100), $D_romance to $D_romance+1]]
*[[“Wow,” you drawled, leaning back a bit and letting your gaze flicker over him playfully. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to psychoanalyze me.” [♥︎]|D outfit 3.4][$Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100), $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100), $D_romance to $D_romance+1]]<<notify 5s>>+ Laidback, + Aloof<</notify>>$D_name glanced at you, eyebrows raised slightly as $D_heshe considered your words. $D_hisher eyes lingered for a second longer, like $D_heshe was weighing what to say next. “Simple, huh? That’s a dangerous game, trying to keep things simple in a place like this.”
You shrugged again, trying to mask how deliberate that statement was. “You gotta balance things somehow. Between everything else, sometimes you just need the basics. Like a room that doesn’t look like a hurricane tore through it.”
“Right.” $D_heshe gave a slow nod, still holding onto that teasing glint in $D_hisher gray eyes. “But don’t you ever feel like that’s avoiding something? Keeping it simple—keeping it under control?”
You tilted your head, considering $D_hisher question more deeply than you probably should have. “Maybe. But then again, sometimes avoiding the storm is what keeps you from getting drowned in it.”
You half-expected $D_name to press, to ask what you really meant. But $D_heshe just grinned, letting the weight of the conversation dissolve as $D_heshe motioned toward the closet.
“Well, since you’re all about keeping things simple, we’ll go minimalist with the fake blood. Just enough to make an impact without turning it into a slaughterhouse.”
You snorted. “Minimalist horror? Sounds like a nightmare.”
“That’s what I’m hoping for,” $D_name said with a wink.
As $D_name wandered over to exploring the contents on your desk, $D_hisher eyes landed on the framed photograph, and $D_heshe paused, leaning in for a closer look.
“Is that you?” $D_heshe asked, glancing back at you with a surprised expression.
You followed his gaze to it—an image of you at six years old, standing between your parents. The three of you were at a beach in Hawaii, all sunburnt and squinting against the bright light. Your dad had $D_hisher arm slung over your mom’s shoulders, and your younger self stood between them, grinning widely at the camera. It was one of the very few summers that your parents had spent with each other after you turned two.
“Yeah,” you said softly, walking over to join $D_himher. “That was... a long time ago.”
$D_name looked back at the photo, a smile tugging at the corner of $D_hisher mouth. “It’s cute. You look just like your mom.”
There it was. You swallowed, forcing a smile onto your face. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”
$D_name nodded, turning the photo over in $D_hisher hands. “She’s beautiful.”
“She was,” you said quietly. “She... uh, she passed away almost eight years ago.”
The silence hung heavy for a moment, like the air had suddenly shifted between you two.
“I’m sorry,” $D_name said softly. It wasn’t a pity-filled sorry, not the kind you had grown used to hearing from people who didn’t know what else to say. $D_HeShe didn’t try to fix it or fill the space with meaningless words. Just that simple acknowledgment.
You shrugged, trying to push past the tightness in your chest. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”
$D_name watched you for a moment, $D_hisher eyes searching your face as though $D_heshe wanted to say something more, something meaningful. But instead, $D_heshe simply nodded, respecting the boundaries of the conversation without pressing further.
“I get it,” $D_heshe said softly. “Family stuff’s always... complicated.”
*[[“Speaking from experience?” you asked sardonically.|D outfit 3.1][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $D_friendship to $D_friendship+1]]
*[[“That’s one way to look at it,” you replied, folding your arms across your chest with a friendly smile. “I guess everyone’s got their ways of dealing with stuff, huh?”|D outfit 3.2][$Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100), $D_friendship to $D_friendship+5]]
*[[Your gaze dropped to your hands, which were resting awkwardly in your lap, fingers twitching as if unsure what to do. [♥︎]|D outfit 3.3][$Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100), $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100), $D_romance to $D_romance+1]]
*[[“Wow,” you drawled, leaning back a bit and letting your gaze flicker over him playfully. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to psychoanalyze me.” [♥︎]|D outfit 3.4][$Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100), $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100), $D_romance to $D_romance+1]]<<notify 5s>>+ Arrogant, + Uptight<</notify>>$D_name blinked at you, then burst out laughing, the sound rich and full of something that wasn’t mockery but wasn’t exactly genuine admiration either.
“Oh, I can tell. Everything in this place looks like it’s been arranged by someone who read ‘The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up’ one too many times.”
You grinned, not bothering to deny it. “What can I say? I like order.”
“You like control,” $D_name corrected, lips twitching into a smirk as $D_heshe leaned against the desk. “I respect it. But you know, there’s a difference between having control and just... being afraid of disarray.”
The statement landed like a challenge, but there was no edge to $D_hisher voice. It was more like $D_heshe was sizing you up, testing you, the way $D_name seemed to test everything and everyone.
You raised an eyebrow. “And what’s wrong with not wanting things to be a mess?”
“Nothing,” $D_heshe replied, shrugging. “As long as you’re the one in control and not the ‘neat freak’ part of you.”
“Maybe I just enjoy having things a certain way,” you countered. “There’s nothing wrong with knowing what I want.”
“Nope. But there’s also nothing wrong with a little mess now and then.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “We’ll see how chaotic things get at the party tonight. But don’t blame me if I end up keeping everything in check.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” $D_name replied, that teasing smirk still firmly in place.
As $D_name wandered over to exploring the contents on your desk, $D_hisher eyes landed on the framed photograph, and $D_heshe paused, leaning in for a closer look.
“Is that you?” $D_heshe asked, glancing back at you with a surprised expression.
You followed his gaze to it—an image of you at six years old, standing between your parents. The three of you were at a beach in Hawaii, all sunburnt and squinting against the bright light. Your dad had $D_hisher arm slung over your mom’s shoulders, and your younger self stood between them, grinning widely at the camera. It was one of the very few summers that your parents had spent with each other after you turned two.
“Yeah,” you said softly, walking over to join $D_himher. “That was... a long time ago.”
$D_name looked back at the photo, a smile tugging at the corner of $D_hisher mouth. “It’s cute. You look just like your mom.”
There it was. You swallowed, forcing a smile onto your face. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”
$D_name nodded, turning the photo over in $D_hisher hands. “She’s beautiful.”
“She was,” you said quietly. “She... uh, she passed away almost eight years ago.”
The silence hung heavy for a moment, like the air had suddenly shifted between you two.
“I’m sorry,” $D_name said softly. It wasn’t a pity-filled sorry, not the kind you had grown used to hearing from people who didn’t know what else to say. $D_HeShe didn’t try to fix it or fill the space with meaningless words. Just that simple acknowledgment.
You shrugged, trying to push past the tightness in your chest. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”
$D_name watched you for a moment, $D_hisher eyes searching your face as though $D_heshe wanted to say something more, something meaningful. But instead, $D_heshe simply nodded, respecting the boundaries of the conversation without pressing further.
“I get it,” $D_heshe said softly. “Family stuff’s always... complicated.”
*[[“Speaking from experience?” you asked sardonically.|D outfit 3.1][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $D_friendship to $D_friendship+1]]
*[[“That’s one way to look at it,” you replied, folding your arms across your chest with a friendly smile. “I guess everyone’s got their ways of dealing with stuff, huh?”|D outfit 3.2][$Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100), $D_friendship to $D_friendship+5]]
*[[Your gaze dropped to your hands, which were resting awkwardly in your lap, fingers twitching as if unsure what to do. [♥︎]|D outfit 3.3][$Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100), $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100), $D_romance to $D_romance+1]]
*[[“Wow,” you drawled, leaning back a bit and letting your gaze flicker over him playfully. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to psychoanalyze me.” [♥︎]|D outfit 3.4][$Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100), $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100), $D_romance to $D_romance+1]]<<notify 5s>>+ Humble, + Genuine<</notify>>$D_name smiled, but $D_hisher gaze softened just slightly, the teasing dialed down to something more subtle. “Why wouldn’t I? You’ve got an eye for detail.”
You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in $D_hisher voice. You were used to people either overlooking the little things or dismissing them entirely, so hearing that—especially from someone you barely knew—felt strange. Good, but strange.
“Well, thanks,” you said, feeling your own awkwardness slip into your tone. “It’s not something I really think about. I just... I don’t know. I guess it’s a habit.”
“Good habit to have,” $D_name remarked, looking around again. “Details matter. You can tell a lot about someone from the way they arrange their space.”
You chuckled. “So what does my space say about me, then?”
$D_HeShe glanced at you, lips curling into a grin that hinted at mischief. “It says you’re trying not to let anyone see the mess underneath. But the good news? That makes you just like everyone else.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Well, I’m glad to know I’m in good company, then.”
$D_name just shrugged, still smiling as $D_heshe turned back to the closet. “We all hide things, right? The trick is knowing when to let people see the mess.”
As $D_name wandered over to exploring the contents on your desk, $D_hisher eyes landed on the framed photograph, and $D_heshe paused, leaning in for a closer look.
“Is that you?” $D_heshe asked, glancing back at you with a surprised expression.
You followed his gaze to it—an image of you at six years old, standing between your parents. The three of you were at a beach in Hawaii, all sunburnt and squinting against the bright light. Your dad had $D_hisher arm slung over your mom’s shoulders, and your younger self stood between them, grinning widely at the camera. It was one of the very few summers that your parents had spent with each other after you turned two.
“Yeah,” you said softly, walking over to join $D_himher. “That was... a long time ago.”
$D_name looked back at the photo, a smile tugging at the corner of $D_hisher mouth. “It’s cute. You look just like your mom.”
There it was. You swallowed, forcing a smile onto your face. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”
$D_name nodded, turning the photo over in $D_hisher hands. “She’s beautiful.”
“She was,” you said quietly. “She... uh, she passed away almost eight years ago.”
The silence hung heavy for a moment, like the air had suddenly shifted between you two.
“I’m sorry,” $D_name said softly. It wasn’t a pity-filled sorry, not the kind you had grown used to hearing from people who didn’t know what else to say. $D_HeShe didn’t try to fix it or fill the space with meaningless words. Just that simple acknowledgment.
You shrugged, trying to push past the tightness in your chest. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”
$D_name watched you for a moment, $D_hisher eyes searching your face as though $D_heshe wanted to say something more, something meaningful. But instead, $D_heshe simply nodded, respecting the boundaries of the conversation without pressing further.
“I get it,” $D_heshe said softly. “Family stuff’s always... complicated.”
*[[“Speaking from experience?” you asked sardonically.|D outfit 3.1][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $D_friendship to $D_friendship+1]]
*[[“That’s one way to look at it,” you replied, folding your arms across your chest with a friendly smile. “I guess everyone’s got their ways of dealing with stuff, huh?”|D outfit 3.2][$Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100), $D_friendship to $D_friendship+5]]
*[[Your gaze dropped to your hands, which were resting awkwardly in your lap, fingers twitching as if unsure what to do. [♥︎]|D outfit 3.3][$Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100), $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100), $D_romance to $D_romance+1]]
*[[“Wow,” you drawled, leaning back a bit and letting your gaze flicker over him playfully. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to psychoanalyze me.” [♥︎]|D outfit 3.4][$Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100), $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100), $D_romance to $D_romance+1]]<<notify 5s>>+ Sarcastic<</notify>>$D_name grinned at your question, that easy, confident smile not faltering for a second. $D_HeShe tilted $D_hisher head as if considering your words, then shrugged lightly. “I mean, wouldn’t you like to know?”
It was such a typical $D_name answer—half-daring, half-evasive. And you couldn’t help but wonder if $D_heshe ever dropped that armor of sarcasm and wit, or if it was just part of the show $D_heshe played for everyone. You leaned back, watching $D_himher with a smirk, letting the silence stretch between you for a beat longer than usual, like you were both waiting to see who’d crack first.
But, of course, it was $D_name who spoke again, flashing you a look that was equal parts amused and intrigued. “Look, I’ve learned one thing: no one’s immune to chaos. We’re all just trying to pretend like we’ve got it handled. The trick is knowing when to fake it and when to lean into it.”
You raised an eyebrow, trying not to show that the words struck a chord. “And you? Do you lean into it?”
“You keep your secrets and I’ll keep mine,” $D_heshe simply said with a wink.
<<button "Next" "D outfit 4">><</button>>
/*[[D outfit 4]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Friendly<</notify>>$D_name paused for a second, glancing at you out of the corner of $D_hisher eye. $D_HeShe smiled back—smaller this time, softer, like $D_heshe was seeing something in you that $D_heshe hadn’t noticed before.
“Yeah,” $D_heshe said, more thoughtful than before. “I think most people are just doing their best to cope. Some of us throw ourselves into work or hobbies. Others…” $D_heshe shrugged lightly. “Others just pretend everything’s fine.”
“And you?” you asked, curious now in a way that wasn’t just for the sake of banter. “Which one are you?”
$D_HeShe hesitated, but only for a fraction of a second. “I’m… somewhere in the middle, I guess. I like to act like I’ve got it all figured out, but honestly, I think we’re all just winging it half the time. Pretending like we’ve got a plan.”
You nodded, feeling a weird sense of camaraderie in that confession. It wasn’t something people said often—at least not people like $D_name, who always seemed so easygoing, so above it all. “I get that. Sometimes it feels like everyone’s just waiting for you to slip up, to show them that you don’t have it all together.”
“I know.” $D_name’s eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, you felt like you were both standing on the same side of something. “But here’s the secret: no one does. Not really.”
You smiled. “Guess that makes things a little easier to deal with.”
$D_name smirked, the lightness returning to $D_hisher tone. “Yeah, well, don’t get too comfortable. We still need to figure out your costume for tonight.”
<<button "Next" "D outfit 4">><</button>>
/*[[D outfit 4]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Shy<</notify>>The words “I get it" landed softly between you two, a surprising confession from someone you had only met the other day. The realization that $D_name might actually relate to what you’d just hinted at felt both comforting and startling. You weren’t used to that kind of understanding from anyone, especially not someone like $D_himher, who seemed to float through life without the weight of such burdens.
You glanced up at $D_himher, feeling the warmth of $D_hisher gaze on you but not quite able to meet it directly. It made your stomach twist in a way that was both uneasy and strange, like suddenly standing on a high ledge. $D_HeShe wasn’t prying, wasn’t digging for more—$D_heshe was simply... there.
Shyly, you gave a small smile, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve as you dared to glance at $D_himher from the corner of your eye. “Yeah, I guess it’s just... one of those things.”
There was a brief silence, the kind that didn’t feel uncomfortable but still made your heart race just a little faster. You could feel the atmosphere shift, a subtle thread of shared understanding, but it was fragile, and you didn’t know how to handle it. So, you did what felt most natural—you tried to make it easier. For both of you.
“I don’t know,” you said softly, finally daring to look at $D_himher, your smile tentative but real. “Maybe it’s not all bad. I mean, you probably have it worse than me.”
$D_name raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of $D_hisher lips. “You think so?”
You nodded, though there was a nervousness in the way you did it, like you weren’t entirely sure where you were going with this but felt the need to keep the conversation light.
“Well, I don’t know, I just figured...” You trailed off, your voice growing quieter as you stumbled over your words. “You know, with how complicated life can get...”
Before you could dig yourself into an awkward hole, $D_name chuckled—a warm sound that eased some of the tension in your chest.
“You don’t have to worry about me,” he said, his voice light now, like he was trying to shift the mood too. “I can handle my own mess.”
You blinked, caught between the relief of $D_hisher laughter and the underlying seriousness that you hadn’t expected. But something in $D_hisher tone gave you the courage to press just a little further, your voice bashful but genuine. “Still... it sounds like you’ve been through a lot.”
For a second, you thought you might have gone too far, but $D_name surprised you by simply smiling, though this time it was softer, a little more guarded. “Haven’t we all?”
You felt a pang of sympathy then, a sudden urge to comfort $D_himher, though you weren’t quite sure how. So, instead, you offered a small, timorous laugh, one that was almost apologetic.
“Yeah. I guess we have.” And before you could second-guess yourself, you added quietly, “But if you ever need to talk...”
$D_name met your eyes for a beat, $D_hisher gaze unreadable. Then, to your relief, $D_heshe broke into another laugh, light but genuine this time. “You’re really something, aren’t you? We just met, and you’re already offering to be my therapist.”
Your cheeks flushed, and you quickly looked away, feeling both embarrassed and flustered. “I wasn’t—I didn’t mean—”
“I know, I know,” $D_heshe cut you off, grinning now as $D_heshe shook $D_hisher head. “It’s... cute.”
Your face burned even more, and all you could do was offer an awkward, shy smile in return, unsure of how to respond. But when you looked back at $D_himher, there was a warmth in $D_hisher eyes that made you feel like, despite the awkwardness, maybe you hadn’t totally messed it up after all.
<<button "Next" "D outfit 4">><</button>>
/*[[D outfit 4]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Bold<</notify>>$D_name’s words hung in the air between you, soft but heavy with meaning. You could tell $D_heshe wasn’t just throwing out empty lines—$D_heshe meant it, got it in a way most people didn’t. The weight of $D_hisher gaze lingered on you, like $D_heshe was seeing more than you intended to show. For a moment, the air felt too serious, too charged with things you didn’t want to dive into. Not yet.
You decided to change that.
A slow grin curled at the edges of your lips, a flicker of mischief sparking in your chest. You weren’t about to let things get too deep—not when you barely knew each other. If there was one thing you were good at, it was deflecting.
$D_name blinked, surprised by the shift in your tone. Then $D_heshe smirked, catching on to your game.
“Maybe I am,” $D_heshe shot back, though $D_hisher eyes still held that depth, that quiet understanding that unsettled you more than you were willing to admit. “Maybe I’m just that good.”
You laughed, the sound light and teasing, as you leaned forward just slightly, your voice dipping lower in a way that was definitely meant to flirt. “Oh, so you’re good at everything, huh?”
$D_HisHer smirk widened, and for a second, you thought you saw the briefest flicker of something that said $D_heshe understood exactly what you were doing. But $D_heshe played along, $D_hisher voice just as smooth. “I don’t like to brag, but... yeah.”
You raised an eyebrow, letting the playfulness between you stretch just a little further. “That sounds like a challenge. Think you could psychoanalyze me and survive a horror party in one night?”
$D_HeShe chuckled, the sound warm and rich, but there was still something underneath it, a thread of seriousness that hadn’t entirely disappeared. “I think I can handle whatever you throw at me. But what about you?”
You shrugged, keeping your gaze on $D_himher, unafraid to let the easy energy simmer between you.
“I’m not worried,” you said, the challenge clear in your tone. “I can handle myself.”
$D_name laughed again, but this time there was an edge to it, a kind of unspoken understanding that lingered beneath the surface. $D_HeShe wasn’t completely fooled by the flirtation, wasn’t distracted by the game. $D_HeShe saw through it—through you—and that realization sent a small thrill through you, though you weren’t entirely sure what to do with it.
“Well,” $D_heshe said after a moment, $D_hisher voice teasing but $D_hisher eyes serious, “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”
You grinned back, but there was a flicker of an emotion that told you this wasn’t just about the party, or the flirting, or the banter. There was more here, more to $D_himher, and maybe more to you, too.
<<button "Next" "D outfit 4">><</button>>
/*[[D outfit 4]]*/“Alright,” $D_name murmured under $D_hisher breath as $D_heshe started sifting through your wardrobe. “Let’s see what you’ve got here…”
You leaned back against the edge of your bed, watching as $D_name pulled out random shirts, jackets, and things you hadn’t touched since you’d shoved them all into your wardrobe after moving in. You didn’t say anything yet, half-curious and half-amused as $D_heshe studied your clothing like it was a puzzle to be solved.
“I’m not sure what you’re looking for, but I’m starting to feel judged,” you quipped, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.
$D_HeShe glanced back at you over $D_hisher shoulder, $D_hisher grin widening. “Oh, don’t worry. You’ll know when I’m judging you.”
You laughed softly, shaking your head as $D_name went back to work, flipping through more clothes. Looks like $D_heshe already had a character in mind:
*[[Billy Loomis (Scream)|Scream][$costume to "Billy Loomis"]]
*[[Carrie (Carrie)|Carrie][$costume to "Carrie"]]
*[[Ash Williams (Evil Dead)|Evil Dead][$costume to "Ash Williams"]]
*[[Thomasin (The VVitch)|The VVitch][$costume to "Thomasin"]]
*[[Patrick Bateman (American Psycho)|American Psycho][$costume to "Patrick Bateman"]]
<<if $Ballet>>*[[Nina Sayers (Black Swan)|Black Swan][$costume to "Nina Sayers"]]<</if>>$D_name pulled out a dark blue flannel, then a white t-shirt. $D_HeShe tilted $D_hisher head thoughtfully, then tossed them onto your bed. Without missing a beat, $D_heshe grabbed a pair of blue jeans and a belt, adding those to the pile.
You watched, bemused, as $D_name took a step back to survey the collection of clothes on your bed like an artist sizing up a painting.
“Billy Loomis,” $D_heshe announced, pointing at the outfit with a smirk.
“Billy Loomis?” you repeated, folding your arms and leaning back against your bed frame. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
$D_HeShe didn’t look up, continuing to sift through your shirts. “Scream. You know, the guy with the knife? Bloody t-shirt, brooding psychotic energy, probably listens to Nirvana when he’s not murdering people?”
“I’m aware of Scream,” you replied dryly. “I’m just not sure I’d call myself a Billy Loomis type.”
$D_name pulled out the plain white t-shirt and held it up in front of you like $D_heshe was picturing the character already. “You’ve got the look. You could pull it off. All you need is the right amount of disheveled... and maybe a little bit of psycho.”
“Thanks?” you offered, raising an eyebrow. “That sounds like a compliment, I think?”
$D_HeShe chuckled, tossing the t-shirt onto your bed before returning to the rack. “Trust me, it is. The guy’s a classic. A bit of an unhinged edge… but people love him. He’s got that dangerous vibe, and who doesn’t like that?”
“I can think of a few people,” you muttered, watching as $D_name continued rummaging. The way $D_heshe moved was so certain, like $D_heshe had already visualized the entire outfit before $D_heshe had even stepped into your room. “So, what, you think I’m just going to walk into this party dressed as a 90s slasher villain and everyone’s going to be, what? Terrified?”
$D_name grinned, grabbing a pair of black jeans from the back of your closet. “Terrified? Maybe. But you’ll also look cool as hell. It’s horror-themed, after all. Gotta lean into it.”
You sighed, glancing at the growing pile of clothes on your bed. “You seem to have thought this through a lot more than I have.”
“Of course I have,” $D_heshe replied without missing a beat, straightening up to face you. $D_HeShe held up the black jeans, a white shirt, and that all-important leather jacket with a flourish, as if unveiling a finished product. “Billy Loomis is iconic. This is your chance to step into those shoes.”
You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed but somewhat amused. “And who exactly are you going as?”
$D_HeShe smirked, shaking $D_hisher head. “I’ve got something good in mind. But trust me, if you go as Billy, you’ll look like you know what you’re doing. And isn’t that half the battle at these kinds of things?”
You laughed, though you couldn’t help but feel like $D_heshe had a point. These parties were always more about the spectacle, about looking like you belonged, and maybe there was some appeal to walking in like you owned the place.
$D_heshe folded the clothes neatly on your bed. “Look, all I’m saying is that it won’t make you look like you’ve thrown it all on last minute.”
You glanced at the pile of clothes again, half tempted to give in, but still not entirely sold on the idea of leaning into the whole ‘psycho killer’ aesthetic. “And what happens if I don’t pull it off? What if I just end up looking like someone who didn’t get the memo?”
$D_name leaned against the wardrobe, arms crossed, that ever-present grin on $D_hisher face. “You underestimate yourself. Trust me, you’ll pull it off. You’ll get that... broody thing going on. You just need the right jacket to help.”
You snorted, shaking your head. “Broody thing? I didn’t realize I had the potential.”
“It's definitely possible,” $D_heshe replied with a chuckle. “Whether you realize it or not.”
There was something about the way $D_heshe said it, so casual, so sure, that made you pause. Maybe there was some truth to it—not the Billy Loomis part, necessarily, but the idea of leaning into something more daring, more confident, for a night. You weren’t usually the type to dress up for these kinds of things, but maybe that was the point. Maybe stepping out of your comfort zone would be... fun?
You crossed your arms, a smirk forming on your lips. “Fine. But if I look ridiculous, I’m blaming you.”
$D_HeShe grinned, clearly pleased with your decision. “Deal. Now, let’s get this outfit together. We’ve got work to do.”
<<button "Next" "Party">><</button>>
/*[[Party]]*/After a moment, $D_name pulled out a white dress. Your eyes widened, and you weren’t sure whether to be impressed or concerned.
“Carrie,” $D_heshe declared, holding up the dress like it was the obvious choice. “Blood-soaked prom queen. We could make this work.” $D_hisher eyes gleamed as $D_heshe waved the dress at you, clearly entertained by the thought.
You blinked. “Carrie? As in... Carrie Carrie?”
$D_HeShe shot you a look, half amusement, half disbelief. “You’re acting like you’ve never seen a horror movie.”
“No, I’ve seen Carrie,” you clarified, feeling the need to defend yourself. “I just didn’t think I gave off... prom-queen-drenched-in-blood vibes.”
$D_HeShe grinned, clearly entertained by your reaction. “You don’t have to give off the vibes to pull off the look. That’s the beauty of Halloween—you can be someone completely different for a night.”
You raised an eyebrow, watching as $D_heshe continued rummaging through your clothes. “So, what, you want me to show up in a prom dress covered in fake blood?”
$D_HeShe shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Why not? It’s iconic. And you don’t even need this dress”—$D_heshe threw it on the bed and pointed at some other clothes—“you’ve got this white shirt, pair it with some jeans, throw some fake blood on it, and boom—instant Carrie. It’s got that ‘effortless but still terrifying’ vibe.”
You tilted your head, trying to picture it. “So basically, I’ll look like I got dumped in a vat of red paint.”
“More or less,” $D_name said with a smirk, pulling a pair of old jeans from the back of your closet. “But like, in a good way. You’re supposed to look like you just survived something. Plus, I’ve already got the fake blood so that’s one more thing to sell the costume.”
You snorted, shaking your head. “I don’t know if that’s really my thing. I was thinking more along the lines of... something less drenched in fake blood?”
$D_HeShe shot you a playful look. “Come on, it’s not about the blood. It’s about making a statement. And Carrie is a statement.”
You paused, half-amused by how invested $D_heshe was in this. The whole thing felt surreal, standing in your room discussing the logistics of a blood-soaked costume with someone you barely knew. But there was something about the way $D_name presented it, like it wasn’t just about dressing up, but about embodying a character, stepping into someone else’s skin for a night. It made the idea of going as Carrie seem... oddly appealing.
“I don’t know,” you mused, eyeing the clothes now strewn across your bed. “I’m not sure I can pull off ‘prom queen vengeance.’”
$D_name raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against the wardrobe as $D_heshe surveyed you with a knowing smile. “You’d be surprised. You’ve got that... ‘I’m holding it all together but I could snap at any second’ thing down.”
You blinked, caught off guard by the observation. “What?”
$D_HeShe shrugged, completely unbothered. “You know, that vibe. Like you’re calm and composed, but underneath it all, you’ve got this edge. Like Carrie.”
You laughed, more out of surprise than anything. “I don’t think that’s a compliment.”
“It’s not an insult, either,” $D_heshe pointed out, that same teasing glint in $D_hisher eyes. “It just means you’ve got layers. People like layers. And you could totally play up the whole ‘nice enough on the outside, deadly on the inside’ thing for this party.”
You weren’t sure if you should be flattered or concerned by the comparison, but the way $D_name said it—like it was a fact, not a critique—made you lean more towards the former. Still, the idea of walking into a party looking like you’d been caught in a rainstorm of blood felt... intense. You didn’t know these people well enough to make that kind of entrance.
“I feel like this is a bit much for someone who doesn’t even know half the people at this party,” you said, half-joking.
“Which is exactly why you should do it,” $D_name replied, pushing off the wardrobe and stepping closer to the bed, surveying the clothes as if already envisioning the final look. “It’s bold. It’s memorable. And let’s be real, do you want to show up in something boring and forgettable?”
You crossed your arms, half-smiling. “And this is the opposite of boring and forgettable?”
$D_HeShe grinned, nodding definitively. “Absolutely. Plus, you’ll have me there to back you up. If anyone gives you shit, I’ll just tell them they clearly don’t appreciate good horror.”
You laughed, shaking your head again. “You’re really selling this, aren’t you?”
$D_HeShe winked, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “I’m just saying, if you’re going to do Halloween, you should do it right. No half-measures.”
You hesitated for a moment, glancing at the clothes again. There was something undeniably fun about the idea, as ridiculous as it seemed. Maybe it was the fact that $D_name was throwing so much energy into it, or maybe it was the thought of walking into a room full of strangers and making a statement without having to say a word. Whatever it was, the idea was starting to grow on you.
“Alright,” you said, finally relenting. “But if I look like an idiot, I’m blaming you.”
$D_HeShe grinned, clearly pleased with your decision. “Deal. Now, let’s get this outfit together. We’ve got work to do.”
<<button "Next" "Party">><</button>>
/*[[Party]]*/You watched as $D_name pulled out a worn-out pair of brown jeans, laying it on the bed with a smirk, satisfied.
“Ah,” $D_heshe said, rummaging back into the wardrobe pulling out a blue denim long-sleeved shirt, holding it up in the light. “Ash Williams.”
You blinked, half-impressed by the choice. “Ash Williams? From Evil Dead?”
$D_name turned the shirt over in $D_hisher hands, clearly pleased with the find. “Exactly. The chainsaw-wielding guy. Classic. You’ll get the look down. You’d just need to make the shirt a little messier and we’ll strap a fake chainsaw to your arm.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, but where are we going to get a fake chainsaw? Unless you’re hiding one in my closet too?”
$D_HeShe snorted, shaking $D_hisher head. “Relax. The film department’s got a whole stash of props. Trust me, I’ve been down there a few times, and they’ve got enough fake weapons to make anyone look like a badass. I’ll grab one before the party.”
You couldn’t help but smile at the confidence in $D_hisher voice. Of course, $D_name already had a solution in mind. “Right, because I’m just supposed to believe they’re going to hand over a chainsaw to you, no questions asked?”
$D_name grinned, leaning a little closer, eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’d be surprised what you can get away with if you know the right people. And I know the right people.”
You snorted, leaning against the edge of your bed as you watched $D_himher toss the shirt on your bed. “I don’t know if I’m the ‘chainsaw-wielding’ type.”
$D_HeShe grinned, glancing over at you like $D_heshe was reading something deeper in your hesitation. “That’s exactly why you should do it. It’s horror-themed—you’re supposed to be something you’re not.”
“Something violent, apparently,” you shot back, trying to imagine yourself stomping into the SigChi party, covered in fake blood, wielding a fake chainsaw taped to your right hand. You barely knew anyone going to this thing—definitely not well enough to roll in as a battle-hardened Deadite hunter.
$D_name shrugged as $D_heshe picked out a leather belt from your closet. “Violence is kind of the theme here. You’re not going as Cinderella.”
You raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced. “And the chainsaw is... necessary?”
$D_HeShe nodded seriously, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. “The chainsaw is non-negotiable. Without it, you’re just someone in a denim shirt. But with it... you’re Ash. You’re the guy who’s going to walk into that party and look like you’ve already survived the apocalypse.”
You shook your head, unable to keep from smiling. “Okay, fine. I’ll bite. But if I show up with a chainsaw and no one gets the reference, I’m blaming you.”
$D_name laughed, a low sound that somehow made you feel more comfortable than you expected. “Trust me, they’ll get it. And if they don’t, well... I’ll be there to explain it. And to tell them they have terrible taste in horror.”
You rolled your eyes again, but there was something about the way $D_heshe said it, so confident, like $D_heshe could walk into any situation and make it work. You could see why people gravitated toward $D_himher, why it seemed so effortless for $D_himher to take charge, even in something as trivial as helping you find a costume. It made you feel like maybe this party wouldn’t be so bad after all.
“Alright,” you said after a moment, grabbing the blue shirt from the bed. “Let’s do it. Ash Williams, chainsaw and all.”
$D_name grinned, clearly pleased with your decision. “I knew you’d come around. Just wait until you see the chainsaw—we’re going to make it look legit.”
“Yeah, I’m sure I’ll be a hit,” you said, pulling on the shirt and trying it on. It was a little snug because you’ve had it since you were in your early teens, but it would do the job. “Just don’t let me forget to thank the film department for making me look like a maniac.”
“They’ll be honored,” $D_name said with a wink, pushing off the desk and heading toward the door. “I’ll text you when I’ve got the prop. And don’t worry—we’ll make sure you look like the best-dressed deadite slayer at the party.”
<<button "Next" "Party">><</button>>
/*[[Party]]*/You still couldn’t quite believe that this was happening—that you were actually letting $D_name rifle through your wardrobe as if this was a normal thing, as if you hadn’t met less than 24 hours ago. Yet here $D_heshe was, treating your closet like some curated collection of potential horrors.
Not that you minded. $D_name clearly had a vision for this horror-themed party, and you could sense $D_hisher enthusiasm in every piece $D_heshe pulled out. What was surprising, though, was that even after years of hosting such events, this party was still far from Halloween. A weird, off-season horror bash—like something straight out of an A24 film.
“I think I’ve got it,” $D_name said, $D_hisher eyes lighting up as $D_heshe yanked out a plain, worn-out blouse—something simple, linen, but somehow immediately fitting the vibe.
You frowned. “What’s that?”
$D_HeShe waved it dramatically in front of you. “Thomasin. From The VVitch.”
You raised an eyebrow. “The VVitch? As in, ‘Wouldst thou like to live deliciously’ The VVitch?”
$D_name grinned wickedly, nodding. “Exactly. A24 classic. You’re the misunderstood outcast, cursed by your family, wandering in the woods—basically, the embodiment of untapped potential.” $D_hisher eyes glinted with something mischievous. “And, you know, you get to scare the hell out of everyone in a very ‘slow-burn horror’ kind of way.”
You crossed your arms, staring at the blouse like it had more sinister implications than you were comfortable with. “I’m not exactly in the mood to sacrifice any goats.”
$D_name laughed, tossing the blouse at you before pulling out a long skirt that looked just as bleak. “No goats necessary. It’s about the aesthetic. The quiet creepiness, the tension. Plus, it’s got that arthouse horror vibe, you know? Slow, unnerving, kind of makes you uncomfortable just looking at it.”
You held the blouse in your hands, turning it over with a skeptical eye. It was simple, sure, but the longer you stared at it, the more you could see what $D_name was talking about. It wasn’t about being overtly scary—it was about building tension, about slipping into something deeper, darker, without ever needing the fake blood. You’d just have to be there, existing in that space, haunting in your own way.
“So,” you said slowly, “I’m supposed to be the Puritan person gone rogue?”
“Yep,” $D_name replied, pulling out a simple black belt to complete the outfit. “Thomasin isn’t just a Puritan though. She’s the quiet rebellion, the girl who refuses to stay in her place. You could totally pull that off.”
You stared at $D_himher, half-amused, half-exasperated. “You’ve thought about this a lot, haven’t you?”
$D_name shrugged nonchalantly, though $D_hisher smirk gave $D_himher away. “Maybe. I just have an eye for this kind of thing. And, if I’m being honest, I think it fits you.”
You scoffed lightly, leaning back against your bed as you considered the pile of clothes. The blouse, the skirt—it all felt oddly perfect, like some kind of morbid fairytale version of yourself you didn’t know you needed. “So, what you’re saying is, you think I’m creepy?”
“Not creepy,” $D_name corrected, leaning toward you with a teasing glint in $D_hisher eyes. “Just... quietly intense. Like the type of person who doesn’t say much but is secretly plotting something deep and meaningful under the surface.”
You laughed again, shaking your head at $D_hisher ridiculousness. “And here I thought I was just indecisive.”
$D_HeShe grinned, tilting $D_hisher head thoughtfully. “That’s the beauty of A24. The characters don’t have to do anything dramatic to make you feel uneasy. It’s all in the quiet moments, the tension building in every glance or silence.”
You thought about that, about how the quiet could often be more unnerving than the loudest scream. It was why films like The VVitch stuck with people—because it wasn’t just about the jump scares. It was about the lingering sense of dread, the knowledge that something terrible could happen at any moment, but maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe it was all in your head.
“So,” you said, picking up the blouse and holding it up to yourself, “I’m supposed to just stand there and freak people out without saying a word?”
“Pretty much,” $D_name said, nodding approvingly. “You don’t need to say much. You’ll just be there, looking like you’ve been wandering through the woods for days, like you’ve seen things no one else has. And if anyone asks, just tell them you’ve already spoken to Black Phillip.”
You couldn’t help but laugh again, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all. And yet, the idea of showing up in such a stark, unnerving costume appealed to you. It was low-key, but effective. Not too flashy, but not forgettable either. There was something about the simplicity of it that felt right.
“Alright,” you finally said, “I guess I’m Thomasin for the night.”
$D_name clapped $D_hisher hands together, clearly pleased. “Knew you’d see the vision. Now, all we need is a little dirt, maybe some mud smeared on your face to really sell the whole ‘lost in the woods’ thing.”
“I draw the line at actual mud.”
$D_HeShe waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, I’ll just use makeup. I got them from the theater department. It’ll look gritty and realistic, but you won’t feel like you’ve been dragged through a swamp.”
You watched as $D_heshe started rummaging through a small bag of makeup $D_heshe brought with $D_himher, pulling out black and earthy tones that looked suspiciously like they were meant for a much rougher look. Despite your initial hesitation, you couldn’t help but feel a little excited now. The costume wasn’t flashy or bloody, but it was eerie in its own way. It felt like stepping into a character, into a story, one where you didn’t have to do much to leave an impression.
“So,” you said as $D_heshe unscrewed the cap on a small bottle of dark, grainy liquid, “why Thomasin?”
$D_name didn’t look up as $D_heshe dabbed the makeup sponge into the liquid. “She’s a survivor. Everyone around her is trying to tell her what to be, but she makes her own choices, even if they lead her somewhere dark. There’s something powerful in that.”
You frowned, watching $D_himher work. “You’re saying I give off ‘dark path’ energy?”
$D_HeShe laughed softly. “Not dark path. Just... someone who won’t follow the rules unless they make sense to you.”
<<button "Next" "Party">><</button>>
/*[[Party]]*/$D_HeShe pulled out one piece after another, a frown occasionally twitching at the corner of $D_hisher lips as if none of it was quite right. Finally, $D_heshe held up a crisp white shirt and an almost-too-neat black suit jacket, turning to you with a grin that felt just on the edge of sinister.
“Patrick Bateman,” $D_heshe declared, like it was the only answer that had ever existed.
You blinked, staring at the shirt in $D_hisher hands. “You want me to be Patrick Bateman?”
$D_name grinned, swinging the shirt on one finger like a psychotic ringmaster. “Of course. It’s classic—sharp suit, perfect hair, clean-cut psycho with an impressive skincare routine. What’s not to love?”
You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you leaned back. “So, you think I’m a psychopath with an obsession with Huey Lewis and the News?”
$D_HeShe laughed, shaking $D_hisher head. “No, no. Not the psycho part, not exactly. But the vibe. The control. The charisma. Patrick Bateman is all about perfection—about looking like everything is in order on the surface, but underneath…” $D_hisher grin widened. “Well, that’s the fun part, isn’t it?”
You stared at the shirt in $D_hisher hand, thinking about it. “And where exactly am I supposed to get a fake axe? Pretty sure I don’t have one lying around in my closet.”
$D_name grinned, entirely too pleased with $D_himself. “The film department. They’ve got tons of props, and I happen to know they have a fake axe that looks real enough to sell the deal.”
You narrowed your eyes. “How do you know that?”
“I may or may not have borrowed it for a... previous engagement,” $D_heshe said, clearly enjoying the game of half-truths. “It’s light, easy to carry, but looks convincing in low light. You just swing it around a little, splash some fake blood, and voilà—you’d look like you came right out of the movie.”
You tilted your head, half-amused, half-skeptical. “And this is the image you want me to present at this party? Someone covered in blood with an axe?”
$D_name met your gaze, unflinching. “Why not? It’s memorable. You’ll make an impression, and it’s not like you’re going for subtleness, right?”
You sighed, but there was a grin creeping at the edges of your mouth. “This is ridiculous.”
“It’s horror,” $D_heshe said, leaning back and giving you a satisfied once-over. “It’s supposed to be ridiculous. But it’s also supposed to be fun. Don’t you want to have a little fun?”
You opened your mouth to argue but stopped, realizing you didn’t actually have a counterpoint. You did want to have fun, even if you hadn’t admitted it out loud yet. Maybe dressing up like a maniac for one night was the kind of release you needed before the semester started.
$D_name was unphased, tossing the shirt and jacket onto the bed beside you before turning back to the wardrobe to search for more pieces. “It’s not an insult, either. Patrick Bateman is iconic. He’s sleek, he’s polished. The horror of him is how much he fits in. People love him, trust him, even though he’s hiding something dark underneath. It’s about the mask. The façade.”
You picked up the shirt, feeling the smooth fabric between your fingers. It was eerily fitting in a way. Patrick Bateman wasn’t the loudest horror villain—he didn’t need to be. He was unnerving because of how calm he was, how perfectly he blended in while hiding his true nature. The violence, the cruelty, all behind a pristine smile.
“You do realize this is going to make me look like some Wall Street baller who’s ready to lecture people about business cards, right?” you said dryly.
$D_HeShe chuckled, eyes gleaming. “Exactly. That’s the horror of it. You could be standing there, looking like someone who’s completely in control of everything, like someone you’d never suspect. The real fear is in how normal he seems. The blood, the axe, the insane monologues about music—all of that is just underneath the surface. It’s genius.”
You tilted your head, eyeing the clothes laid out before you. “So, I’m supposed to just show up looking like I’m headed to a corporate meeting?”
$D_HeShe nodded, his smile widening. “And then, when they least expect it, you pull out the dark side. The idea is to keep them guessing. You’re not someone who walks in with fake blood all over—you’re the one who could snap, but no one’s sure when or if it’s going to happen.”
You leaned back further on your hands, raising an eyebrow. “That’s a lot of pressure for one outfit.”
$D_HeShe shrugged, seemingly unbothered. “I think you can handle it.”
You picked up the jacket, holding it up against yourself. “Fine. I’ll be your psychotic yuppie. But if anyone asks me to explain the brilliance of Sports, I’m walking out.”
$D_HeShe laughed again, shaking $D_hisher head. “Deal. Just keep it cool. That’s the whole point.”
You slipped the jacket on, feeling the smooth, almost clinical material settle on your shoulders. It was strange how quickly you could slip into the role, how easy it was to imagine yourself as someone who could stand in a room full of people and blend in perfectly, all while keeping something darker, more dangerous, locked away.
“Alright,” you said, adjusting the collar, “I’m officially the American Psycho.”
$D_HeShe stepped back, looking you over with a satisfied nod. “You’re going to kill it. Metaphorically.”
You snorted, giving $D_himher a mock glare. “Don’t push your luck.”
<<button "Next" "Party">><</button>>
/*[[Party]]*/$D_name seemed to take the task seriously, a focused gleam in $D_hisher eyes as $D_heshe sorted through your clothes, one hand idly tugging at your extra ballet costumes like they were up for consideration.
“I didn’t realize you were this invested in picking a costume for me,” you said, leaning back against the edge of your bed, amused. “What, you think I can’t dress myself?”
$D_name paused, a smirk curling at $D_hisher lips. “Oh, you can dress yourself. But can you transform yourself?” $D_heshe gestured dramatically at your closet. “This isn’t about just looking like someone. It’s about becoming them.”
You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “And who exactly am I supposed to be becoming?”
Without missing a beat, $D_name pulled out one of your old ballet costumes. It was light, shimmering white tulle and satin, the kind that caught the light like a ghost. $D_HeShe held it up in front of you with a knowing look, tilting $D_hisher head. “Nina Sayers. Black Swan.”
You stared at $D_himher for a moment, then at the costume in his hands, before bursting into laughter. “You want me to dye one of my ballet costumes black? Are you insane?”
$D_name didn’t flinch. “Look, it’s perfect. The white is already there. We just need to... adjust it.”
“Adjust it?” you echoed incredulously. “You mean ruin it.”
“Think of it as an upgrade,” $D_heshe said, wiggling the hanger for emphasis. “It’s like Nina’s transformation in Black Swan. Innocent to dark. Controlled to chaotic. You’re halfway there already.”
You shook your head, running a hand through your hair as you stared at the costume. The idea of dyeing one of your ballet costumes black seemed absurd, reckless even. But as ridiculous as it sounded, you could see what $D_heshe was getting at. Nina Sayers’ transformation from the innocent White Swan to the obsessive, dangerous Black Swan was iconic. And $D_heshe wasn’t wrong—there was something compelling about becoming that version of her.
You tilted your head, giving $D_himher a skeptical look. “And you’re telling me you just happen to have something lying around for this?”
$D_name grinned, slipping a can of black spray paint from $D_hisher bag like it was a magic trick. “What can I say? I come prepared.”
You blinked, staring at the can. “You’re actually serious about this?”
$D_HeShe shrugged nonchalantly, shaking the can in $D_hisher hand, the sound of the spray paint rattling inside filling the room. “I’m always serious.”
For a moment, you hesitated, weighing the pros and cons. On the one hand, you could say no, keep things simple, wear something safe like everyone else at the party probably would. On the other hand, there was something undeniably thrilling about the idea of it—taking a perfectly good ballet costume and turning it into something darker, something more dramatic, more messier.
You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. “Fine. But if it looks like a disaster, I’m holding you responsible.”
$D_name smiled triumphantly, already pulling open the windows to let the fumes out. “Deal.”
Within minutes, you were out on the small balcony attached to your suite, $D_name laying the ballet costume out flat on the ground like it was some kind of canvas. You leaned against the railing, arms crossed, watching as $D_heshe crouched down with the spray can, a look of concentration on $D_hisher face. The hiss of the paint filled the air as $D_heshe began covering the white fabric with streaks of deep, glossy black.
“You know,” you said, your voice quieter now, “Nina’s transformation is kind of tragic.”
$D_name glanced up, shaking the can and continuing to spray. “That’s what makes it interesting.”
You weren’t sure what it was—the sound of the paint, the smell of it, or the way the white fabric slowly disappeared under the black, but something about it made you pause. You’d seen Black Swan more times than you could count, but the idea of embodying Nina Sayers, the girl who was so desperate to be perfect that she destroyed herself, hit a little too close to home.
“You ever think maybe we’re all a little like Nina?” you asked softly. “Trying so hard to be perfect, even when it’s destroying us?”
$D_name paused mid-spray, glancing over at you. There was a flicker of something in $D_hisher eyes, like $D_heshe knew exactly what you meant, but $D_heshe smiled instead, lightening the mood. “I don’t know if I’d go that far. But I do think everyone’s got a bit of a dark side. It’s just a matter of how much you’re willing to let it out.”
You looked down at the nearly finished costume, the black creeping over it like ink on a page. The transformation was almost complete. And it was beautiful in a way, but also unsettling, watching something so pristine and delicate get turned into something harsh and haunting.
“I think that’s enough,” you said finally, as $D_heshe finished off the last section.
$D_name stood up, holding the can at arm’s length and admiring the work. “Not bad, eh?”
You stepped closer, crouching down to touch the still-drying fabric. It was rougher now, stiffer, but it had a certain edge to it that you couldn’t deny. The costume had gone from innocent to something darker, something with an intensity that matched the weight of the film it was inspired by.
“Definitely intense,” you muttered, picking it up carefully. “Let’s hope I don’t get any weird looks at the party.”
$D_name chuckled, stepping back. “Oh, you’ll get looks. But not the weird kind. Trust me, people love a transformation story.”
You glanced at $D_himher, catching the way $D_hisher eyes glimmered with amusement. There was something mischievous in $D_hisher gaze, but there was also understanding there, an acknowledgment of how much weight that transformation held. It wasn’t just about the costume; it was about the story behind it—the girl who lost herself in pursuit of perfection.
“You really think I can pull off a Black Swan?” you asked, the question coming out more serious than you’d intended.
$D_name met your eyes, shrugging with a small smile. “Why not? You’ve got the balance and a little edge. And besides, you’ve already got the ballet moves down.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension easing as you shook your head. “I’m not that dramatic.”
$D_HeShe raised an eyebrow. “We’ll see. Just wait until you’re on stage. That’s when you choke, when it’s for real.”
<<button "Next" "Party">><</button>>
/*[[Party]]*/<<notify>>Saved!<</notify>><<if $D_gender is "male">><<set $K_name to "Kyle"; $K_gender to "male"; $K_person to "man"; $K_guy to "guy"; $K_Mr to "Mr"; $K_HeShe to "He"; $K_heshe to "he"; $K_HimHer to "Him"; $K_himher to "him"; $K_HisHer to "His"; $K_hisher to "his"; $K_HisHers to "His"; $K_hishers to "his"; $K_Himself to "Himself"; $K_himself to "himself">><<else>><<set $K_name to "Kyra"; $K_gender to "female"; $K_person to "woman"; $K_guy to "girl"; $K_Mr to "Ms"; $K_HeShe to "She"; $K_heshe to "she"; $K_HimHer to "Her"; $K_himher to "her"; $K_HisHer to "Her"; $K_hisher to "her"; $K_HisHers to "Hers"; $K_hishers to "hers"; $K_Himself to "Herself"; $K_himself to "herself">><</if>>You stood in front of the mirror, half-dressed, staring at the mess of clothes strewn across your bed. Horror-themed parties were supposed to be fun, right? You weren’t so sure. You had about ten minutes before you needed to leave, and you were just putting some last-minute touches on when a knock sounded at the door, jolting you out of your wardrobe-induced daydream.
The sound was sharp, like a gunshot in the quiet of your room, and you turned, half-expecting a real serial killer to be on the other side. You opened the door to find $D_name, who was back from dressing up as well and was leaning casually against the frame, a familiar grin curling up at the corners of $D_hisher lips.
<<if $D_gender is "male">>He was dressed as Jason Dean from Heathers. The dark leather jacket hung loosely off his shoulders, black as pitch, and the oversized sleeves framed his hands just right—like he wasn’t so much wearing it as letting it envelop him. Beneath, a worn-out t-shirt hinted at casual rebellion, the kind that seemed effortless but was meticulously calculated. His dark hair was tousled, a little disheveled but with an air of “I did this on purpose.” He had that same casual smirk J.D. wore before setting fire to everything—dangerous, a little wild, and slightly too attractive for his own good.
“J.D., huh?" you mused, raising an eyebrow. “Going for ‘I’m cool but also a sociopath' tonight?"
He grinned, leaning against the doorframe like he owned the place. “Someone’s got to bring a little anarchy to the party. Might as well be me."
“You’re not going to blow up the school, are you?" you asked dryly, though there was a smirk playing on your lips.
Dumitru shrugged, his gray eyes glinting with mock innocence. “Only if they play anything by the Jonas Brothers."
You snorted, shaking your head. “I think you’ve got the wrong era. This is the 21st century. Pop-punk or bust."
“Ah, well." Dumitru pushed off the doorframe and stepped further into the room, giving you a once-over.<<else>>Dumitra had fully transformed into Jennifer Check from Jennifer’s Body. The tight pink zipped up hoodie hugged every curve perfectly and had red hearts all over it. Her hair was slightly wavy and glossy, falling down her back like a waterfall of dark silk. Her lips were painted blood red, the kind of red that whispered seduction and promised destruction. Her gray eyes had a casual tantalizing grace, a sway in her step that said she knew she was lethal and liked it that way. Jennifer Check wasn't just a costume—Dumitra had slipped into the role as if she was born for it.
“Jennifer from Jennifer’s Body?” you asked, trying to keep your voice neutral, but there was no mistaking the awe in your tone.
Dumitra’s lips curved into a slow, sultry smile. “What can I say? I like to kill boys, and I look good doing it.” She ran a finger along her jawline, as if to emphasize her point, her gaze lingering on you for just a moment longer than necessary.
You gave her a mock salute. “Remind me to stay on your good side tonight.”
She stepped closer, her heels clicking against the floor, eyes gleaming like a predator on the hunt. “Oh, darling, if you were on my bad side, you’d already know it.”
A beat passed between you, the air heavy with tension, but it broke when you laughed, shaking your head. “Well, at least you’ll have all the frat boys shaking in their boots.”
“Let them shake,” she replied, her smile growing wicked. “I like a little fear. Makes things more fun.”
You snorted, shaking your head. “I think you’re way too into playing the character at this point."<</if>>
<<if $costume is "Billy Loomis">>“Ah, well." $D_name pushed off the doorframe and stepped further into the room, giving you a once-over. “So you are going as Billy Loomis, after all. Unhinged and hot. Classic.”
$D_HeShe wasn’t wrong about the unhinged part at least. A dark blue flannel hung loosely over the bloodied white t-shirt, and you had gone to some trouble to make sure the fake blood looked just right—splattered in all the wrong places, sticky and almost too realistic. Dark blue jeans, a worn-out belt slung low around your waist—it was as close to Billy Loomis as you could get without the Scream mask.
You smirked, crossing your arms. “And you’re going for murderous but misunderstood?”
“Touché,” $D_name shot back, running a hand through $D_hisher hair. “But seriously, the erratic blood stains—nice touch. You’re going to terrify half the people at the party.”
“I aim to please.”
“Or stab.”
“Same thing,” you said, a grin tugging at your lips.<<elseif $costume is "Carrie">>“Ah, well." $D_name pushed off the doorframe and stepped further into the room, giving you a once-over. “So you are going as Carrie, after all. Teenage queen of revenge and all.”
You caught sight of your reflection in the mirror and adjusted the tiara on your head. The dress, blood-soaked and sticky, clung to your body as if it had never been clean. You had spent hours getting the fake blood to dry in just the right way, letting it harden and crack in parts, so it looked like it had been there forever. You were Carrie, through and through, the wronged prom queen on the verge of destruction.
You smirked, adjusting the tiara one more time. “Why, thank you for noticing. Maybe I’ll spare you from my wrath after all.”
$D_name laughed, stepping inside and eyeing the fake blood covering your dress. “So, are you planning to set anyone on fire tonight or just telepathically ruin their lives?”
“Haven’t decided yet,” you replied nonchalantly. “Might depend on how annoying the frat boys get.”
“Good plan.” $D_name’s eyes sparkled as $D_heshe gave you an impressed look. “I think you’ll be officially one of the scariest at the party.”
“And that’s the goal,” you said, giving a wicked grin.<<elseif $costume is "Ash Williams">>“Ah, well." $D_name pushed off the doorframe and stepped further into the room, giving you a once-over. “So you are going as Ash Williams, after all. I knew the ruggedness would suit you.”
You would be lying if you didn’t feel a little smug at that. A worn-out brown jeans and a blue denim long-sleeved shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. You had worked hard on the blood stains, splattering them artfully across the fabric to look like you’d just walked out of a gruesome battle with Deadites.
“That reminds me,” $D_name spoke up, reaching into $D_hisher bag and bringing out a prop chainsaw. “Nick told me to bring it back in one piece tomorrow but at least he agreed to let me borrow it.”
You grinned, picking up the chainsaw and sliding it onto your arm with a practiced motion. “Send him my thanks, would you?”
“Will do. You might also win ‘Most Likely to Be Avoided’ at the party tonight.”
“That’s the plan.” You gave $D_name a mock-serious look. “You ready to fight some Deadites tonight?”
$D_name laughed, shaking $D_hisher head. “As long as you don’t accidentally take anyone’s arm off.”
“No promises.”<<elseif $costume is "Thomasin">>“Ah, well." $D_name pushed off the doorframe and stepped further into the room, giving you a once-over. “So you are going as Thomasin, after all. The Puritan horror has jumped out tonight.”
Your costume was plain but chilling—a worn-out blouse, a long, threadbare skirt, and an apron that looked like it had been dragged through the mud. It was hauntingly old-fashioned, perfect for a character like Thomasin from The VVitch. Your face had a pallid undertone, almost ghostly, and your hair hung loose around your shoulders, wild and unkempt.
“It’s not like I had much choice,” you said, although your tone was light and joking. “Someone couldn’t wait to make me and my costume ‘muddy’ as hell.”
$D_name grinned mischievously. “Come on, I had to help you sell the seventeenth century New England eeriness that way.”
You gave a small smile. “Agreed, sometimes the simplest things are the most terrifying.”
$D_name shuddered dramatically. “I feel like you’re about to accuse me of witchcraft and have me burned at the stake.”
“Maybe,” you said, deadpan. “Depends on how the night goes.”
“As long as you don’t have a black billy goat hidden somewhere,” $D_name muttered, though the grin on $D_hisher face gave $D_hisher merriment away.<<elseif $costume is "Patrick Bateman">>“Ah, well." $D_name pushed off the doorframe and stepped further into the room, giving you a once-over. “So you are going as Patrick Bateman, after all. Nice. It’s giving finance bro who is also a massive asshole.”
You smoothed down your black suit jacket, adjusting the red tie so it hung just right. The white button-up shirt was pristine, the black trousers neatly pressed, but the whole look had a sinister edge to it. You were channeling Patrick Bateman, the Wall Street killer with a taste for perfection—and murder.
You smirked, giving $D_name a mock business-like nod. “I aim for professionalism in all things.”
“Especially murder, I see.” $D_HeShe gave a theatrical shudder. “So, are you planning on handing out business cards at the party?”
“If the font’s right.”
$D_name laughed, shaking $D_hisher head. “I have a feeling half the people at that party aren’t going to know whether to hit on you or run.”
“Both are equally valid responses,” you responded with a wink.<<elseif $costume is "Nina Sayers">>“Ah, well." $D_name pushed off the doorframe and stepped further into the room, giving you a once-over. “So you are going as the Black Swan, after all. I don’t know whether to applaud or back away slowly.”
You took one last look in the mirror, adjusting the delicate ballet costume, though this one was different. It wasn’t the pristine white tutu Nina Sayers wore at the beginning of Black Swan—this was the black one, the darker, twisted version that $D_name helped you improvise. The spare ballet slippers had also been spray-painted black, which was, again, courtesy of $D_name and the can $D_heshe had brought before. Your makeup was done in the dramatic style of the swan queen, complete with black feathers near your eyes.
You smiled, though there was an edge of danger in it. “Both are acceptable.”
$D_HeShe grinned. “You look incredible. Are you planning on winning the party or just... mentally unraveling halfway through?”
“Who knows?” you replied, deadpan.
$D_name laughed, but there was a knowing look in $D_hisher eyes. “I think you might end up owning that dance floor.”<</if>>
<<button "Next" "P 1">><</button>>/*[[P 1]]*/The Sigma Chi fraternity house stood like a towering beast at 33 Lynwood Place. The old stone façade was draped with synthetic cobwebs, a behemoth of old brick and ivy-covered walls which was washed in the eerie glow of red and purple lights strung haphazardly from the roof to the porch. The front lawn was littered with plastic gravestones and skeletal hands that reached up from the ground, like the dead were clawing their way back to life. It felt like Halloween had arrived early this year.
As you and $D_name made your way toward the Sigma Chi fraternity house, the distant thrum of music grew louder, vibrating through the soles of your shoes like a heartbeat out of sync with your own. Voices drifted from inside, laughter and shouting punctuating the music, all muffled by the thick air. Even from a distance, you could see the crowd spilling out onto the front lawn, people lounging on the grass or making out against trees, their costumes a wild mix of horror icons, slasher villains, and the occasional out-of-place superhero.
“Subtle," you muttered under your breath, taking it all in. The cobwebs, the cheap horror props—it was all a little too on-the-nose, too theatrical.
$D_name nudged you, a smirk pulling at the corner of $D_hisher mouth as $D_heshe nodded toward a group of half-dressed zombies stumbling their way toward the door. “Classic. Every year it’s the same, isn’t it? Someone always thinks torn-up t-shirts make for a good costume."
You snorted, unable to hold back a smile. “To be fair, I’m not sure they’re all just playing dress-up. Some of them might actually be the undead."
$D_HeShe laughed, but it was that lazy, too-cool laugh that <<if $D_gender is "male">>Jason Dean<<else>>Jennifer Check<</if>> would’ve had. It suited $D_himher tonight, the way $D_heshe blended into the darkness like $D_heshe belonged there. Together, you made your way to the entrance, where the door had been left wide open, the thrum of the party beckoning like a siren’s call.
Inside, the air was mixed with the scent of sweat, cheap beer, and tequila. The house had been transformed into a haunted maze. Strings of dimly lit purple lights hung from the ceiling, while fake fog curled around your feet like ghostly tendrils. The walls were plastered with posters of horror movie icons: Michael Myers, Freddy Krueger, and of course, Jason Vorhees, staring out with hollow, unblinking eyes. Every inch of the room was designed to unsettle, to make you feel like you’d stepped into a B-grade horror film.
But the people inside? They were oblivious, caught up in their own drunken revelry. A vampire in a velvet cape tried to dance with a zombie cheerleader, while a guy in a cheap werewolf mask fumbled with his phone, trying to take a selfie. The whole scene felt surreal, like some twisted masquerade ball where no one quite remembered what they were supposed to be afraid of.
“$MC_firstname," $D_name nudged your shoulder, $D_hisher gaze sweeping over the scene. “You ready for this?"
*[[You let out a resigned sigh. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”|P 2.1][$Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100), $Introvert to Math.clamp($Introvert + 3, 0, 100), $Extrovert to Math.clamp($Extrovert - 3, 0, 100), $D_friendship to $D_friendship+4]]
*<<link '“Actually,” you flash $D_himher an excited grin, “I can’t wait.”' "P 2.2">><<set $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100); $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100); $Extrovert to Math.clamp($Extrovert + 3, 0, 100); $Introvert to Math.clamp($Introvert - 3, 0, 100); $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100); $D_friendship to $D_friendship+5>><</link>>/*[[P 2.2]]*/
*[[“PARTAYYYY!!!” you hollered out as a response.|P 2.3][$Extrovert to Math.clamp($Extrovert + 3, 0, 100); $Introvert to Math.clamp($Introvert - 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100); $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100), $D_friendship to $D_friendship+5]]
*<<link '“Is it too late to back out now,” you asked $D_himher half jokingly.' "P 2.4">><<set $Introvert to Math.clamp($Introvert + 3, 0, 100); $Extrovert to Math.clamp($Extrovert - 3, 0, 100); $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100); $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100); $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100); $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100); $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100); $D_friendship to $D_friendship+5>><</link>>/*[[P 2.4]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Genuine, + Extrovert
+ Friendly<</notify>>The excitement thrummed beneath your skin, contagious, a pulse in time with the distant beat of the music. There was something about the energy of the night—the lights, the laughter, the looming house draped in its horror aesthetic—that made you feel alive. It wasn’t just the idea of the party itself but the prospect of throwing yourself headfirst into something wild, reckless, and undeniably fun.
$D_name raised an eyebrow, surprised but amused. $D_HeShe hadn’t expected this shift in your mood, clearly.
“Well, look at you,” $D_heshe mused, giving you a once-over like you were suddenly a new puzzle to figure out. “Since when do you get all hyped for these things?”
You shrugged, the grin still firmly in place. “Maybe you don’t know me that well. Maybe it’s the vibe. Or maybe it’s the fact that it’s been a long week, and I just want to let loose.”
$D_HeShe chuckled, shaking $D_hisher head. “Alright, alright. Let’s see what you’ve got, then. I’m holding you to that energy all night, just so you know.”
“Deal.” You gave $D_himher a playful nudge, your excitement only growing as you looked around, its chaotic energy drawing you in like a moth to a flame. You felt lighter, more daring, like tonight could be something different—something unforgettable.
$D_name seemed to effortlessly know how to navigate the labyrinth that was SigChi’s frat house. You followed closely, weaving between a guy dressed as OJ from Nope and a girl who was either supposed to be Wednesday Addams or just hadn’t put much effort into her costume.
At some point, you realized you were being watched—several pairs of eyes trailed after you and $D_name, probably because of the costumes. People’s gazes slid over you, appraising, intrigued, or maybe just curious. You were used to this, but it still felt strange, like you were part of some elaborate performance neither of you had really prepared for.
As you caught up to $D_name, you leaned in close enough to be heard over the noise. “I think we’ve already made an entrance.”
$D_HeShe shot you a look, gunmetal gray eyes glinting knowingly. “Perfect.”
“So, what’s the game plan?”
$D_name nodded toward the bar set up in the corner, where some guy dressed as Count Orlok was pouring shots like he was on a mission: “That."
You rolled your eyes with a smile and followed as $D_name further wove $D_hisher way through the crowd, passing a girl dressed as a sexy nurse who was very clearly not keeping up with the ‘nurse' part of the act, and a guy who appeared to be a half-hearted Alien. The music throbbed louder the closer you got to the bar, a mess of heavy beats and synthetic sounds that made it nearly impossible to hear anything else.
Finally, you reached the bar. Someone shoved a drink into your hand without asking what you wanted, and you stared down at the bubbling, green liquid skeptically.
“I’m not drinking this,” you said flatly, raising an eyebrow at $D_name.
$D_HeShe grinned, sipping $D_hisher own suspicious-looking drink with a shrug. “Relax. It tastes non-alcoholic. Besides, if it kills you, at least it’s on theme.”
You shot $D_himher a look. “Comforting.”
<div id="centered">[[“Yo, is that you, Rook?” a very clearly tipsy voice called out.|P 3]]</div><<notify 5s>>+ Aloof, + Uptight
+ Introvert<</notify>>There was no excitement in the words, just the cold reality of what lay ahead. The party, the noise, the people—it all loomed before you like an inevitable tide you had no choice but to swim through. You weren’t about to turn back, but that didn’t mean you had to look forward to it either.
Beside you, $D_name tilted $D_hisher head, giving you a side glance that you couldn’t quite read, but there was something knowing in it. $D_HeShe seemed to sense that this wasn’t exactly your kind of scene—that maybe you’d rather be anywhere but here. $D_HisHer smirk widened, a small, almost teasing quirk to $D_hisher lips, as if $D_heshe found your reluctance amusing, maybe even endearing.
“You’ll survive,” $D_heshe said, voice casual, as if you hadn’t just admitted your reluctance to be thrown into the mess that awaited. $D_HeShe didn’t push, though, didn’t try to coax enthusiasm out of you. That wasn’t $D_hisher style. Instead, $D_heshe just walked alongside you, $D_hisher presence solid and steady, almost comforting despite the whirlpool of chaos that was the party.
You glanced around again, at the twisted decorations and wild, unfamiliar faces inside. The kind of scene that felt a little like a test—a test you’d pass, but only by holding your breath and hoping it’d be over soon.
$D_name seemed to effortlessly know how to navigate the labyrinth that was SigChi’s frat house. You followed closely, weaving between a guy dressed as OJ from Nope and a girl who was either supposed to be Wednesday Addams or just hadn’t put much effort into her costume.
At some point, you realized you were being watched—several pairs of eyes trailed after you and $D_name, probably because of the costumes. People’s gazes slid over you, appraising, intrigued, or maybe just curious. You were used to this, but it still felt strange, like you were part of some elaborate performance neither of you had really prepared for.
As you caught up to $D_name, you leaned in close enough to be heard over the noise. “I think we’ve already made an entrance.”
$D_HeShe shot you a look, gunmetal gray eyes glinting knowingly. “Perfect.”
“So, what’s the game plan?”
$D_name nodded toward the bar set up in the corner, where some guy dressed as Count Orlok was pouring shots like he was on a mission: “That."
You rolled your eyes with a smile and followed as $D_name further wove $D_hisher way through the crowd, passing a girl dressed as a sexy nurse who was very clearly not keeping up with the ‘nurse' part of the act, and a guy who appeared to be a half-hearted Alien. The music throbbed louder the closer you got to the bar, a mess of heavy beats and synthetic sounds that made it nearly impossible to hear anything else.
Finally, you reached the bar. Someone shoved a drink into your hand without asking what you wanted, and you stared down at the bubbling, green liquid skeptically.
“I’m not drinking this,” you said flatly, raising an eyebrow at $D_name.
$D_HeShe grinned, sipping $D_hisher own suspicious-looking drink with a shrug. “Relax. It tastes non-alcoholic. Besides, if it kills you, at least it’s on theme.”
You shot $D_himher a look. “Comforting.”
<div id="centered">[[“Yo, is that you, Rook?” a very clearly tipsy voice called out.|P 3]]</div><<notify 5s>>+ Extrovert, + Arrogant
+ Laidback<</notify>>The shout carried across the room, blending with the hum of music and drunken laughter, but in your head, it echoed like a call to arms. A bunch of other partygoers cheered with you. You were here for it. All of it. Chaos? Bring it. Too much alcohol and questionable decisions? Sign you up.
Beside you, $D_name raised both eyebrows, clearly fighting back a laugh.
“Wow,” $D_heshe said, you could hear the amusement threading through $D_hisher words. “I just knew you had it in you.”
You shot $D_himher a wild grin, one part genuine excitement, one part sheer defiance of anything resembling caution. “You kidding me? This has always been my kind of scene.”
“You sure? Because you sound like you’re about to lead a charge into battle.”
“Damn right I am,” you shot back, your tone dripping with mock bravado. You tossed an imaginary war flag over your shoulder. “Tonight, we conquer Sigma Chi. No survivors.”
$D_name laughed out loud this time, a rich, deep sound that felt contagious.
“Alright, General,” $D_heshe said, falling into step beside you. “Let’s do this.”
$D_name seemed to effortlessly know how to navigate the labyrinth that was SigChi’s frat house. You followed closely, weaving between a guy dressed as OJ from Nope and a girl who was either supposed to be Wednesday Addams or just hadn’t put much effort into her costume.
At some point, you realized you were being watched—several pairs of eyes trailed after you and $D_name, probably because of the costumes. People’s gazes slid over you, appraising, intrigued, or maybe just curious. You were used to this, but it still felt strange, like you were part of some elaborate performance neither of you had really prepared for.
As you caught up to $D_name, you leaned in close enough to be heard over the noise. “I think we’ve already made an entrance.”
$D_HeShe shot you a look, gunmetal gray eyes glinting knowingly. “Perfect.”
“So, what’s the game plan?”
$D_name nodded toward the bar set up in the corner, where some guy dressed as Count Orlok was pouring shots like he was on a mission: “That."
You rolled your eyes with a smile and followed as $D_name further wove $D_hisher way through the crowd, passing a girl dressed as a sexy nurse who was very clearly not keeping up with the ‘nurse' part of the act, and a guy who appeared to be a half-hearted Alien. The music throbbed louder the closer you got to the bar, a mess of heavy beats and synthetic sounds that made it nearly impossible to hear anything else.
Finally, you reached the bar. Someone shoved a drink into your hand without asking what you wanted, and you stared down at the bubbling, green liquid skeptically.
“I’m not drinking this,” you said flatly, raising an eyebrow at $D_name.
$D_HeShe grinned, sipping $D_hisher own suspicious-looking drink with a shrug. “Relax. It tastes non-alcoholic. Besides, if it kills you, at least it’s on theme.”
You shot $D_himher a look. “Comforting.”
<div id="centered">[[“Yo, is that you, Rook?” a very clearly tipsy voice called out.|P 3]]</div><<notify 5s>>+ Introvert, + Sarcastic
+ Humble, + Friendly<</notify>>$D_name chuckled, glancing at you sideways, $D_hisher grin widening.
“Come on, it’s not that bad,” $D_heshe said, but you could see the amusement dancing in $D_hisher eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little party.”
“Not scared,” you shot back, a mock-wounded expression on your face. “Just... mentally preparing. You know, in case it’s worse than we thought.”
$D_HeShe laughed softly, shaking $D_hisher head. “You’ll be fine. I’ll make sure you don’t get swept up by any of the... crazies.”
“Gee, thanks.” You rolled your eyes, but the sarcasm was laced with affection. You were joking, but there was a small part of you that did feel a little... apprehensive. Parties weren’t exactly your natural habitat, and Sigma Chi’s reputation for throwing outrageous events was, well, legendary.
But you weren’t about to admit that outright. You weren’t that much of a coward.
“Stick close,” $D_name said, bumping you lightly as you looked around. “We’ll get through it together.”
You shot $D_himher a grin, half teasing, half genuine. “Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you don’t ditch me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
$D_name seemed to effortlessly know how to navigate the labyrinth that was SigChi’s frat house. You followed closely, weaving between a guy dressed as OJ from Nope and a girl who was either supposed to be Wednesday Addams or just hadn’t put much effort into her costume.
At some point, you realized you were being watched—several pairs of eyes trailed after you and $D_name, probably because of the costumes. People’s gazes slid over you, appraising, intrigued, or maybe just curious. You were used to this, but it still felt strange, like you were part of some elaborate performance neither of you had really prepared for.
As you caught up to $D_name, you leaned in close enough to be heard over the noise. “I think we’ve already made an entrance.”
$D_HeShe shot you a look, gunmetal gray eyes glinting knowingly. “Perfect.”
“So, what’s the game plan?”
$D_name nodded toward the bar set up in the corner, where some guy dressed as Count Orlok was pouring shots like he was on a mission: “That."
You rolled your eyes with a smile and followed as $D_name further wove $D_hisher way through the crowd, passing a girl dressed as a sexy nurse who was very clearly not keeping up with the ‘nurse' part of the act, and a guy who appeared to be a half-hearted Alien. The music throbbed louder the closer you got to the bar, a mess of heavy beats and synthetic sounds that made it nearly impossible to hear anything else.
Finally, you reached the bar. Someone shoved a drink into your hand without asking what you wanted, and you stared down at the bubbling, green liquid skeptically.
“I’m not drinking this,” you said flatly, raising an eyebrow at $D_name.
$D_HeShe grinned, sipping $D_hisher own suspicious-looking drink with a shrug. “Relax. It tastes non-alcoholic. Besides, if it kills you, at least it’s on theme.”
You shot $D_himher a look. “Comforting.”
<div id="centered">[[“Yo, is that you, Rook?” a very clearly tipsy voice called out.|P 3]]</div>
You turned to see a lanky guy stumbling towards you both, grinning wide and already looking a little worse for wear. He had wavy, light brown hair that fell messily into his eyes, and his shirt was untucked, like he'd given up on trying to stay presentable hours ago. Beside him was a girl, average-height and effortlessly put-together with inky black eyes. She had sleek raven hair that just brushed her shoulders, a leather jacket slung over her body, and an air of someone who had better things to do but was here anyway.
“I didn’t expect to see you here!” the guy slurred, clapping $D_name on the shoulder. “What’s up?”
$D_name gave him a good-natured grin, clearly entertained by the state of him. “I’ve been good. Maybe not as good as you though, Senne. Looks like you’ve had a head start.”
Senne laughed, leaning more heavily on the girl, who sighed dramatically.
“A bit of a head start,” she echoed, shooting a sideways glance at Senne before giving $D_name a quick once-over. “You look good. Horror-party chic, I see.”
<<if $D_gender is "male">>“Yeah, well,” $D_heshe smirked, pulling at the edges of $D_hisher leather jacket. “It’s the first party of the new academic year. I have a reputation to maintain.”<<else>>“Yeah, well,” $D_heshe smirked, pulling at the edges of $D_hisher pink hoodie. “It’s the first party of the new academic year. I have a reputation to maintain.”<</if>>
“Good to see you too though, Saeko,” $D_name added, slipping easily into conversation. “How’ve you been?”
“Busy,” Saeko answered with a shrug. “You know how it is. Probably going to transfer to Oxford next year.”
$D_name raised an eyebrow. “Oxford? Why Oxford?”
“Because I like suffering,” Saeko deadpanned, though her smile was playful. “No, really, I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Better program for what I want to study. Plus, I need a change of scenery. Yale’s nice and all, but I’m getting tired of seeing the same faces at every party.”
$D_name laughed, shaking $D_hisher head. “You’ll probably end up seeing the same faces at Oxford too. Parties are like gravity—you can’t escape them no matter where you go.”
“True enough,” Saeko agreed, though her tone was light, like she wasn’t entirely serious. She then turned her attention to you. “Who’s this?”
$D_name blinked, realizing the oversight.
“Right, sorry. This is $MC_firstname $MC_surname.” $D_name gestured toward you, smiling apologetically. “$MC_firstname, meet Senne and Saeko. They’re from Vanderbilt Hall. We all know each other from a few too many parties like this.”
Senne, grinning like a fool, stepped forward and stuck out a hand, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process.
“Senne Verhaegen,” he said, his voice a little too loud, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Vice-president of the photography club, which I’m sure sounds nerdy as hell, but trust me, we know how to party.”
You shook his hand, half expecting him to tumble over, but he managed to keep his balance, albeit barely. “Nice to meet you.”
Saeko was less enthusiastic about introductions. She gave you a brief nod, eyes still cool but not hostile.
“Saeko Hasegawa,” she said simply, not offering much more than her name.
Before you could say anything, Senne, still leaning on Saeko for support, sighed heavily. His face, which had been bright with a kind of drunken cheer, suddenly took on a more forlorn expression.
“Rook, you have no idea how miserable I am right now,” he groaned.
<<button "Next" "P 4">><</button>>/*[[P 4]]*/$D_name tilted $D_hisher head, amused. “Miserable? You look like you’ve been having a great time, Senne. What’s going on?”
Senne’s drunken eyes fluttered closed for a moment, as if preparing himself to dive into some deep emotional well.
“It’s Emerson,” he said, practically slurring the name like it was the root of all his woes.
You exchanged a confused glance with $D_name, who seemed just as amused as you were by Senne’s exaggerated misery. “Who’s Emerson?”
“Emerson Adebayo,” Senne muttered, nodding sadly. “Resident at Blackthorne. Dark and mysterious. The coolest person in the whole world. They were supposed to come to this party with me, but—” He made a grand, sweeping gesture with one arm, narrowly missing Saeko’s head. “They’ve got that stupid formal dinner at Blackthorne tonight that I knew they’d never miss. I was too chicken to ask them anyway, so I panicked, okay?”
$D_name chuckled, leaning in just a bit. “Wait, you panicked and…?”
Senne let out another long, exaggerated sigh, like this was the confession of a lifetime. “I panicked and invited their suitemate instead.”
$D_name raised $D_hisher eyebrows, clearly holding back a laugh. “Their suitemate? The freshman?”
“Yeah,” Senne admitted, rubbing his face like he couldn’t believe his own foolishness.
*[[“I mean, don’t get me wrong, Wilhelm’s cool…”|P 5][$W_name to "Wilhelm", $W_middle to "Johann", $W_nickname to "Billy", $W_Billy to "Billy", $W_Will to "Will", $W_gender to "male", $W_person to "man", $W_guy to "guy", $W_boy to "boy", $W_son to "son", $W_nephew to "nephew", $W_Mr to "Mr", $W_HeShe to "He", $W_heshe to "he", $W_HimHer to "Him", $W_himher to "him", $W_HisHer to "His", $W_hisher to "his", $W_HisHers to "His", $W_hishers to "his", $W_Himself to "Himself", $W_himself to "himself"]]
*[[“I mean, don’t get me wrong, Wilhelmine’s cool…”|P 5][$W_name to "Wilhelmine", $W_middle to "Johanna", $W_nickname to "Billie", $W_Billy to "Billie", $W_Will to "Mina", $W_gender to "female", $W_person to "woman", $W_guy to "girl", $W_boy to "girl", $W_son to "daughter", $W_nephew to "niece", $W_Mr to "Ms", $W_HeShe to "She", $W_heshe to "she", $W_HimHer to "Her", $W_himher to "her", $W_HisHer to "Her", $W_hisher to "her", $W_HisHers to "Hers", $W_hishers to "hers", $W_Himself to "Herself", $W_himself to "herself"]]“... and $W_heshe’s in the photography club too. We get along, you know? I figured—why not? But—” His voice dropped dramatically, as if he was about to deliver the final twist of a Shakespearen tragedy. “But now, I don’t even know where $W_heshe’s gone. Like, I haven’t seen $W_himher since we got here.”
Saeko shook her head, patting Senne on the shoulder in a way that was more sarcastic than comforting.
“Maybe because you’re too drunk to keep track of anything,” she said, though her tone was light.
$D_name laughed openly this time, clearly enjoying the whole mess of it. “So, let me get this straight—you invited Emerson’s suitemate to a party because you were too nervous to ask Emerson, and now you’ve lost $W_himher in the crowd?”
Senne nodded, his face a picture of despair. “Yes, exactly. It’s a disaster.”
$D_name grinned. “Well, it sounds like you’re off to a great start.”
Senne gave $D_himher a scathing look, though it was hard to take him seriously when he was swaying slightly on his feet. “Why do I even talk to you, Rook? You’re supposed to be my friend.”
“I am your friend. Which is why I’m telling you this is hilarious.” $D_name shrugged, still smiling and glanced around. “Where’s this mysterious suitemate of Emerson’s, then? You sure $W_heshe didn’t bail on you?”
Senne looked around the crowded room, squinting as if trying to spot $W_himher. “No, $W_heshe’s here somewhere. I think. Honestly, I have no idea. I got distracted.”
$D_name laughed again, shaking $D_hisher head in disbelief. “I’m sure $W_heshe’s having a great time being lost in the crowd while you drink yourself into oblivion.”
You couldn’t help but chuckle, even if you felt slightly out of the loop. It was hard not to be entertained by the mess Senne had made of his night, especially with $D_name taking the piss out of it.
“Ugh, I’m not even a good inviter,” Senne moaned miserably. “$W_Billy’s probably gonna tell Emerson I’m horrible to hang out with. It’ll be over before it even starts.”
Saeko, who had been standing quietly beside Senne, finally spoke up, her tone drier than ever. “I’m going to get a drink that doesn’t glow in the dark. You two should probably try to find some too before this lovesick Belgian clown keels over from dehydration.”
Senne waved her off dramatically, still clearly in his own world of woe. “I’ll be fine, Saeko. Go on without me.”
With one last look of exasperation, Saeko disappeared into the crowd, leaving you and $D_name alone with Senne, who was now swaying slightly on his feet.
$D_name gave Senne a final pat on the back. “You’ll figure it out, dude. Maybe just don’t panic next time.”
Senne muttered something incoherent in response, but before he could launch into another lament, he spotted someone across the room and staggered off, waving vaguely in their direction. You watched him go, the commotion of the party swirling around him like a storm.
“Well,” $D_name said, turning back to you with a grin, “that was... something.”
*[[“Is he gonna be okay?” you asked, slightly worried. “I mean, he looked like he’s about two drinks away from completely blacking out.”|P 6.1][$Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100), $D_friendship to $D_friendship+5]]
*[[“Your friends really know how to keep things interesting, huh? Is this a regular occurrence, or am I just lucky tonight?” you teased with a smile.|P 6.2][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $D_friendship to $D_friendship+5]]
*[[You gave a small shrug, watching the scene unfold with a relaxed smile. “Hey, as long as he’s having fun, right?”|P 6.3][$Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100), $D_friendship to $D_friendship+5]]
*[[You crossed your arms. “This is exactly why I don’t come to these things. Everyone just gets trashed and it’s a disaster waiting to happen.” |P 6.4][$Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100), $D_friendship to $D_friendship+1]]<<notify 5s>>+ Friendly<</notify>>$D_name glanced at you, surprised by your tone. “Senne? Nah, he’s fine. He does this all the time.”
“I get that,” you said softly, “but what if this time’s different? What if he needs someone to look out for him?”
For a moment, $D_name looked at you more carefully, $D_hisher expression softening. “You really care, don’t you? Even about someone you barely know.”
You shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed by the attention. “It’s just—everyone deserves someone to watch out for them. Even if it’s just for a night.”
$D_name continued looking at you with a peculiar expression before breaking out into a gentler smile. “Then let’s just honor his wishes and try to have fun.”
The music thumped so loud it was like the beat was pounding in your bones, vibrating under your skin. Lights flashed, strobing across the room, throwing bodies into sharp relief, then plunging them back into shadow.
Before you had time to react, $D_name grabbed your wrist, a mischievous grin spreading across $D_hisher face.
“Come on,” $D_heshe said over the deafening music, eyes gleaming like they were full of stars. There was something wild about that look, something electric. “You can’t just stand around all night.”
Without waiting for your answer, $D_name dragged you through the crowd toward the center of the room. The dance floor was packed, a moving, sweating mass of people grinding against each other in a mess of limbs and laughter. You felt someone’s elbow bump into you, someone else’s hand brush your arm, but it was all blurred together in the haze of lights and music. $D_name finally let go of your hand and immediately started dancing—if you could call it that. $D_HisHer arms were flailing, $D_hisher hips swaying in the most ridiculous way possible, a performance meant entirely to get a rise out of you.
You couldn’t help it—you laughed. It was impossible not to, the sight of $D_name moving like some kind of awkward marionette puppet with that gleeful expression. You tried to keep up, but $D_heshe just kept getting weirder, throwing in exaggerated hip thrusts and dramatic spins that made no sense with the rhythm of the music. It was so absurd that it broke through the haze of the party, grounding you in the moment.
Then, suddenly, there were more people around you, crowding in to watch $D_name's absurd dance moves. You could hear laughter, someone egging $D_himher on, but as the crowd thickened, you lost sight of $D_name. One second $D_heshe was there, flopping around like a fish out of water, and the next—gone.
“$D_name?” you called, but your voice got swallowed by the music, lost in the crashing waves of sound.
You spun around, trying to spot $D_himher in the sea of bodies. You tried to push through the crowd, your heart speeding up as a brief flicker of panic settled in your gut. The strobe lights were disorienting, casting flashes of faces and bodies, then plunging them back into shadow. Everywhere you turned, it was just more unfamiliar faces, more strangers pressed up against each other, caught up in their own world.
And then—<em>wham!</em>
You stumbled back a step, having collided with someone in the chaos.
*[[“What the h—”|P 7]]
*[[“Watch where you’re go—”|P 7]]
*[[“I’m so sor—”|P 7]]<<notify 5s>>+ Sarcastic<</notify>>$D_name grinned back, $D_hisher gray eyes shining with mischief. “Oh, you’re definitely lucky. Senne’s a walking party in and of himself. Always has been.”
You laughed, glancing back at Senne who was now dramatically waving his arms around in conversation with some unfortunate partygoer. “I can tell. Makes for some great entertainment though.”
$D_name winked at you. “Stick with me and you’ll never be bored, that’s for sure.”
The music thumped so loud it was like the beat was pounding in your bones, vibrating under your skin. Lights flashed, strobing across the room, throwing bodies into sharp relief, then plunging them back into shadow.
Before you had time to react, $D_name grabbed your wrist, a mischievous grin spreading across $D_hisher face.
“Come on,” $D_heshe said over the deafening music, eyes gleaming like they were full of stars. There was something wild about that look, something electric. “You can’t just stand around all night.”
Without waiting for your answer, $D_name dragged you through the crowd toward the center of the room. The dance floor was packed, a moving, sweating mass of people grinding against each other in a mess of limbs and laughter. You felt someone’s elbow bump into you, someone else’s hand brush your arm, but it was all blurred together in the haze of lights and music. $D_name finally let go of your hand and immediately started dancing—if you could call it that. $D_HisHer arms were flailing, $D_hisher hips swaying in the most ridiculous way possible, a performance meant entirely to get a rise out of you.
You couldn’t help it—you laughed. It was impossible not to, the sight of $D_name moving like some kind of awkward marionette puppet with that gleeful expression. You tried to keep up, but $D_heshe just kept getting weirder, throwing in exaggerated hip thrusts and dramatic spins that made no sense with the rhythm of the music. It was so absurd that it broke through the haze of the party, grounding you in the moment.
Then, suddenly, there were more people around you, crowding in to watch $D_name's absurd dance moves. You could hear laughter, someone egging $D_himher on, but as the crowd thickened, you lost sight of $D_name. One second $D_heshe was there, flopping around like a fish out of water, and the next—gone.
“$D_name?” you called, but your voice got swallowed by the music, lost in the crashing waves of sound.
You spun around, trying to spot $D_himher in the sea of bodies. You tried to push through the crowd, your heart speeding up as a brief flicker of panic settled in your gut. The strobe lights were disorienting, casting flashes of faces and bodies, then plunging them back into shadow. Everywhere you turned, it was just more unfamiliar faces, more strangers pressed up against each other, caught up in their own world.
And then—<em>wham!</em>
You stumbled back a step, having collided with someone in the chaos.
*[[“What the h—”|P 7]]
*[[“Watch where you’re go—”|P 7]]
*[[“I’m so sor—”|P 7]]<<notify 5s>>+ Laidback<</notify>>$D_name grinned, clearly amused by your attitude. “That’s one way to look at it.”
“I mean, isn’t that what these parties are for?” you said, gesturing loosely to the room around you. “Get a little wild, forget about everything else for a while.”
$D_name chuckled. “Yeah, but there’s a fine line between ‘wild’ and ‘regretting everything tomorrow.’ Senne’s definitely on the wrong side of that line.”
You shrugged again, unfazed. “Eh, he’ll figure it out. Or he won’t. Either way, it’s not my problem.”
$D_name laughed. “I like your style. Go-with-the-flow. Let everyone else deal with their own mess.”
The music thumped so loud it was like the beat was pounding in your bones, vibrating under your skin. Lights flashed, strobing across the room, throwing bodies into sharp relief, then plunging them back into shadow.
Before you had time to react, $D_name grabbed your wrist, a mischievous grin spreading across $D_hisher face.
“Come on,” $D_heshe said over the deafening music, eyes gleaming like they were full of stars. There was something wild about that look, something electric. “You can’t just stand around all night.”
Without waiting for your answer, $D_name dragged you through the crowd toward the center of the room. The dance floor was packed, a moving, sweating mass of people grinding against each other in a mess of limbs and laughter. You felt someone’s elbow bump into you, someone else’s hand brush your arm, but it was all blurred together in the haze of lights and music. $D_name finally let go of your hand and immediately started dancing—if you could call it that. $D_HisHer arms were flailing, $D_hisher hips swaying in the most ridiculous way possible, a performance meant entirely to get a rise out of you.
You couldn’t help it—you laughed. It was impossible not to, the sight of $D_name moving like some kind of awkward marionette puppet with that gleeful expression. You tried to keep up, but $D_heshe just kept getting weirder, throwing in exaggerated hip thrusts and dramatic spins that made no sense with the rhythm of the music. It was so absurd that it broke through the haze of the party, grounding you in the moment.
Then, suddenly, there were more people around you, crowding in to watch $D_name's absurd dance moves. You could hear laughter, someone egging $D_himher on, but as the crowd thickened, you lost sight of $D_name. One second $D_heshe was there, flopping around like a fish out of water, and the next—gone.
“$D_name?” you called, but your voice got swallowed by the music, lost in the crashing waves of sound.
You spun around, trying to spot $D_himher in the sea of bodies. You tried to push through the crowd, your heart speeding up as a brief flicker of panic settled in your gut. The strobe lights were disorienting, casting flashes of faces and bodies, then plunging them back into shadow. Everywhere you turned, it was just more unfamiliar faces, more strangers pressed up against each other, caught up in their own world.
And then—<em>wham!</em>
You stumbled back a step, having collided with someone in the chaos.
*[[“What the h—”|P 7]]
*[[“Watch where you’re go—”|P 7]]
*[[“I’m so sor—”|P 7]]<<notify 5s>>+ Uptight<</notify>>$D_name raised an eyebrow at you, clearly amused. “Come on, it’s not that bad. It’s a party, people are just blowing off steam.”
“Blowing off steam is one thing,” you muttered, eyes narrowing as someone in a pirate costume knocked over a plastic coffin full of drinks, spilling liquid across the floor. “This is chaos.”
$D_name chuckled under his breath, the corners of $D_hisher lips twitching up. “Alright, alright. Maybe a little chaos. But that’s what makes it fun.”
“I can think of a hundred ways to have fun that don’t involve someone throwing up in the corner,” you shot back, watching as a guy in a vampire cape leaned over a trash can. “Can we leave soon?”
$D_name smirked. “Sure, but first let’s just try to actually integrate. If you’re still not convinced, we can leave.”
You sighed out, defeated. “Fine, fine.”
The music thumped so loud it was like the beat was pounding in your bones, vibrating under your skin. Lights flashed, strobing across the room, throwing bodies into sharp relief, then plunging them back into shadow.
Before you had time to react, $D_name grabbed your wrist, a mischievous grin spreading across $D_hisher face.
“Come on,” $D_heshe said over the deafening music, eyes gleaming like they were full of stars. There was something wild about that look, something electric. “You can’t just stand around all night.”
Without waiting for your answer, $D_name dragged you through the crowd toward the center of the room. The dance floor was packed, a moving, sweating mass of people grinding against each other in a mess of limbs and laughter. You felt someone’s elbow bump into you, someone else’s hand brush your arm, but it was all blurred together in the haze of lights and music. $D_name finally let go of your hand and immediately started dancing—if you could call it that. $D_HisHer arms were flailing, $D_hisher hips swaying in the most ridiculous way possible, a performance meant entirely to get a rise out of you.
You couldn’t help it—you laughed. It was impossible not to, the sight of $D_name moving like some kind of awkward marionette puppet with that gleeful expression. You tried to keep up, but $D_heshe just kept getting weirder, throwing in exaggerated hip thrusts and dramatic spins that made no sense with the rhythm of the music. It was so absurd that it broke through the haze of the party, grounding you in the moment.
Then, suddenly, there were more people around you, crowding in to watch $D_name's absurd dance moves. You could hear laughter, someone egging $D_himher on, but as the crowd thickened, you lost sight of $D_name. One second $D_heshe was there, flopping around like a fish out of water, and the next—gone.
“$D_name?” you called, but your voice got swallowed by the music, lost in the crashing waves of sound.
You spun around, trying to spot $D_himher in the sea of bodies. You tried to push through the crowd, your heart speeding up as a brief flicker of panic settled in your gut. The strobe lights were disorienting, casting flashes of faces and bodies, then plunging them back into shadow. Everywhere you turned, it was just more unfamiliar faces, more strangers pressed up against each other, caught up in their own world.
And then—<em>wham!</em>
You stumbled back a step, having collided with someone in the chaos.
*[[“What the h—”|P 7]]
*[[“Watch where you’re go—”|P 7]]
*[[“I’m so sor—”|P 7]]The words died in your throat when your eyes met $W_hisher.
<<if $W_gender is "male">>Ear-length dirty blonde hair, tousled like he’d just run his hands through it a few times too many, glinted in the flashing lights. He had fair skin, the kind that looked pale even under the dark lighting of the party, and sapphire blue eyes that practically glowed.
He was dressed in an impressively detailed Leon S. Kennedy costume. His brown aviator’s jacket looked like it had seen better days, worn and cracked in places, adding to the rugged authenticity. The RE4 patches on his shoulder, the ammo belt slung across his chest, and even the fake holstered gun at his hip—everything screamed dedication to the character. His gloves were fingerless, exposing pale, calloused hands that flexed slightly as he adjusted his stance. There was even a faint sheen of fake blood splattered across the dark fabric, giving him the eerie, battle-worn look of someone who had been fighting through hordes of zombies all night.<<else>>Chest-length dirty blonde hair, tousled like she’d just run her hands through it a few times too many, glinted in the flashing lights. She had fair skin, the kind that looked pale even under the dark lighting of the party, and sapphire blue eyes that practically glowed.
She was dressed in an impressively detailed Ashley Graham costume, complete with the orange, cable-knit turtleneck, brown blazer with a brooch, burgundy scarf, green plaid skirt, and brown boots. The outfit had been modified with a few creative details—fake blood smeared across the vest, a prop knife tucked into the belt loop of her skirt, and a mock radio clipped to her waist. Her hair, though naturally blonde, had been styled into Ashley’s neat, side-parted look. Her entire ensemble gave her the eerie, battle-worn look of someone who had been fighting through hordes of zombies all night.<</if>>
But that wasn’t what threw you.
It was the look in $W_hisher eyes—surprised, like they recognized you. Like something in $W_himher had clicked the moment you bumped into each other. For a second, the world seemed to slow down, the music muffling, the lights dimming, and all you could focus on was that strange, familiar look. And then, there was a tug—a soft, insistent pull deep in your gut, like some part of you knew this $W_guy, even though you were certain you’d never seen $W_himher before in your life.
$W_HeShe opened $W_hisher mouth as if to say something, $W_hisher lips parting, but no words came out.
“Do I—?” The question died on your lips as the crowd shifted, bodies pushing against each other, and in a blink, the $W_guy was gone. Swallowed up by the sea of dancing figures.
You blinked, your head swimming, your heart beating fast. That strange sense of familiarity, that tug in your gut, lingered even as the space where $W_heshe had stood filled with more people, more noise. You could still see $W_hisher eyes in your mind—those startling blue eyes that had looked at you like they knew you, really knew you, in a way no one else here did.
It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense.
For a moment, you considered chasing after $W_himher, pushing your way through the crowd in search of the blonde stranger, but the press of people made it impossible. The lights flashed again, blinding you for a second, and when your vision cleared, $W_heshe was truly gone.
You stood there, your breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps, your pulse racing. The music was back, loud and pounding in your ears, the crowd still moving as though nothing had happened
Shaking your head, you tried to snap yourself out of it, telling yourself it was just a weird moment, an odd coincidence. But deep down, in the pit of your stomach, you couldn’t ignore the strange sense of loss that had settled there. Like you had been on the verge of discovering something—something crucial—and it had slipped through your fingers.
Finally, after a long moment, you shook it off and pushed your way out of the crowd, making your way towards the bar to get something to drink. You looked at the options and choose:
*[[White Claw (alcoholic)|P 8]]
*[[Budweiser (alcoholic)|P 8]]
*[[Tequila (alcoholic)|P 8]]
*[[Whiskey (alcoholic)|P 8]]
*[[Coke|P 8]]
*[[Mountain Dew|P 8]]
*[[Pepsi|P 8]]You leaned back against the sleek countertop, the drink in your hand cold and grounding—whether it was alcoholic or non-alcoholic hardly mattered at this point. The chill of the glass against your fingers was a welcome contrast to the heat radiating from the crowd behind you.
The ice clinked as you took a slow sip, letting the liquid cool your throat. The respite didn’t last long.
<<if $K_gender is "male">>From the corner of your vision, a flash of white caught your attention. A figure slid up next to you, moving with the kind of easy confidence that made it clear he knew he’d be noticed. You glanced over, immediately taking in the details: hazel eyes, with short bleached blonde hair. He was dressed in a striking, ethereal white shirt that was unmistakably inspired by Midsommar—flowers woven into a crown on his head, soft fabric swaying as he moved.
“Hey," he said, voice smooth, playful, like he knew something you didn’t. The blonde turned slightly toward you, leaning on the bar, his hazel eyes playful as he sized you up. “I’m Kyle Tømmeraas."<<else>>From the corner of your vision, a flash of white caught your attention. A figure slid up next to you, moving with the kind of easy confidence that made it clear she knew she’d be noticed. You glanced over, immediately taking in the details: hazel eyes, with bleached blonde hair cascading over her shoulders in loose, natural waves. She was dressed in a striking, ethereal white gown that was unmistakably inspired by Midsommar—flowers woven into a crown on her head, soft fabric swaying as she moved.
“Hey," she said, voice smooth, playful, like she knew something you didn’t. The blonde turned slightly toward you, leaning on the bar, her hazel eyes playful as she sized you up. “I’m Kyra Tømmeraas."<</if>>
$K_name’s name slid from $K_hisher lips as if it was a spell, the soft T sound almost teasing. “And you are…?"
You hesitated for a moment, your own name feeling foreign on your tongue under $K_hisher gaze. $K_HeShe had an intensity about $K_himher, the way $K_hisher eyes lingered just a bit too long, the slight curve of $K_hisher mouth hinting at an inner amusement—like $K_heshe already knew what your answer would be and just wanted to hear you say it.
“$MC_firstname," you finally said, not quite sure why the introduction felt like some sort of game.
$K_name raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “Nice name." $K_HeShe took a sip from $K_hisher drink, eyes never leaving yours, $K_hisher fingers playing idly with the rim of $K_hisher glass. “You seem a little... lost," $K_heshe added, $K_hisher smile widening into something a little more dangerous, a little more seductive. “First time here?"
You gave a half-hearted shrug. “Not my first party."
$K_name chuckled softly, tilting $K_hisher head, $K_hisher flower crown tilting with the motion. “No, I suppose not." $K_HeShe gestured toward the throng of people dancing and grinding on each other in front of the bar. “It’s a bit overwhelming, isn’t it?" $K_heshe added, though $K_hisher tone didn’t quite match the words. $K_HeShe clearly thrived on this sort of thing—the crowded chaos, the intensity of it all.
Before you could answer, $K_name shifted closer, closing the space between you. “So what brings you out tonight? You don’t seem like the type to be a regular at frat parties."
$K_HisHer voice was light, teasing, but there was a flirtatious undertone that was impossible to miss. $K_HisHer fingers lightly brushed against your forearm, an almost casual touch, but intentional enough to send a jolt of surprise through your skin.
*[[“Um,” you began with a small smile and pulled away, “I’m not very comfortable with whatever is going on.”|P Branch 1]]
*<<link '“This <em>is</em> my first frat party," you admitted, eyes flicking down to where $K_heshe had touched you with a flirty smirk. “But, you know, sometimes you end up in unexpected places."' "P Branch 2">><</link>>/*[[P Branch 2]]*/The corner of $K_name's mouth twitched, but the smile never fully faltered. For a moment, $K_heshe looked you over before $K_heshe raised $K_hisher hands in mock surrender.
“Fair enough," $K_heshe said, voice still smooth, but a little cooler now. “No harm done."
There was something almost graceful about the way $K_heshe handled the rejection, as if it were just another part of the little play $K_heshe had been acting in all along.
You could feel the weight of $K_hisher gaze lingering on you as $K_heshe straightened up, adjusting the floral crown with a deft hand. For a second, $K_heshe almost looked apologetic. Almost.
“If you change your mind..." $K_name trailed off, taking a step back and giving you a look that lingered. “I am at Welch Hall."
With that, $K_heshe turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving you standing there with your drink, feeling relief tugging at the edges of your thoughts.
<<button "Next" "PB1 1">><</button>>/*[[PB1 1]]*/$K_name’s eyes lit up with amusement, and a low chuckle escaped $K_hisher lips.
“Unexpected places,” $K_heshe repeated, as if savoring the words, leaning in just slightly. “Well, I guess you’re in good company, then.”
The crowd shifted around you, pressing in as people danced, lights flashing in chaotic patterns across the room. The music thumped louder, the bass vibrating through the air, and without warning, $K_name took your hand in $K_hishers, pulling you toward the dance floor.
There was a moment of hesitation—just a second—before you let yourself get pulled along. The crowd swallowed you both, a sea of bodies moving in time with the beat. $K_name turned toward you, grinning as $K_heshe started to dance. $K_HisHer movements were fluid, confident, and it wasn’t long before you found yourself matching the rhythm.
$K_name moved closer, the space between you narrowing until it all but disappeared, and for a moment, it was just the two of you, lost in the music, the lights, and the electric energy that buzzed between you. You weren’t sure when you started smiling, but when $K_hisher hand slid to the small of your back, there was no denying the spark that shot through you.
“Unexpected places," $K_name said again, voice low, leaning in so close that $K_hisher lips were just a breath away from your ear. “They can lead to unexpected things."
You felt a rush of adrenaline, a mix of excitement and uncertainty as the room seemed to blur around you. The music surged, pulling you deeper into the moment, into the dance, and for just a second, you allowed yourself to forget everything else. The crowd, the noise, the tension—it all melted away, leaving only you and $K_name, moving in perfect sync to the pulsing rhythm of the party.
$K_name’s touch on your <<cycle "$K_waist" autoselect>>
<<option "waist">>
<<option "shoulders">>
<</cycle>> was firm but teasing, pulling you closer as the two of you danced in time with the beat. There was a part of you, a reckless part, that enjoyed the sensation of getting swept up in the moment, the heat between you growing with every step, every sway.
*<<link 'It seemed like it was just you and $K_name on the dance floor.' "PB2 1.1">><</link>>/*[[PB2 1.1]]*/
*<<link 'Your eyes flicked somewhere in the room and spotted $D_name. [♥︎]' "PB2 1.2">><<set $D_romance to $D_romance+1>><</link>>/*[[PB2 1.2]]*/$D_name stood up abruptly, dusting off $D_hisher jeans and extending a hand toward you. “Let’s get out of here.”
You blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in tone. A moment ago, $D_heshe had been admitting things you never thought you’d hear from $D_himher, and now this.
“Wait, what?” You frowned, glancing around at the distant flicker of lights, the muffled hum of the party still in the air. “I thought you were looking forward to the party.”
$D_name shrugged casually, but the tension in $D_hisher shoulders hadn’t entirely disappeared.
“I’ve had enough of it for today.” The words were light, almost dismissive, but the undertone was unmistakable. $D_HeShe wasn’t just talking about the party anymore.
You glanced back toward the building, unsure. The sound of laughter and music was like a distant reminder of the carefree atmosphere you were supposed to be part of tonight, but none of it seemed real anymore. Not after this conversation. Not after seeing $D_himher this way. Still, you hesitated.
*<<link '“I think my share of adventure quota has been fulfilled today,” you joked, turning $D_name down.' "**** 1">><</link>>/*[[**** 1]]*/
*[[“What about... everyone else?” you asked, motioning vaguely toward the direction of the party, unsure of how to phrase it. “I mean, won’t they—” [♥︎]|D Heart Event 1][$Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100), $D_romance to $D_romance+1, $option to 1]]
*[[“Sure,” you replied with a smirk, standing and brushing yourself off, feeling a ripple of something unfamiliar spread through your chest. “Lead the way.” [♥︎]|D Heart Event 1][$Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100), $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100), $D_romance to $D_romance+1, $option to 2]]
*[[You stood, rubbing the back of your neck shyly. “Uh... yeah. Sure.” [♥︎]|D Heart Event 1][$Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100), $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100), $D_romance to $D_romance+1, $option to 3]]You pushed past a group gathered near the makeshift bar and glanced around, your eyes scanning the sea of faces. That’s when you spotted $D_name, standing near a cluster of tables under the half-dimmed patio lights. But $D_heshe wasn’t alone.
A girl with vibrant red hair, dressed as Maxine from X, was standing toe-to-toe with $D_name, her face flushed, either from anger or the alcohol, possibly both. Even from a distance, you could tell it was an argument. The girl’s voice was raised, cutting through the din of the party with sharp, biting words. Curious—and more than a little concerned—you stepped closer, threading your way through the crowd until you were close enough to hear.
“I can’t believe you slept with my brother too last year, right after sleeping with me!” the girl was shouting, her blue eyes blazing, hands clenched into fists at her sides.
$D_name looked annoyed, rolling $D_hisher eyes in response. $D_HisHer posture was relaxed, almost too relaxed for the hostility swirling in the air between them.
“Are we really doing this right now, Layla?” $D_heshe asked, voice low but laced with irritation.
“Yeah, we’re really doing this!” The girl, Layla, jabbed a finger at $D_name, her words fast and sharp. “I mean, who does that? You act like it’s nothing, but you know what? Brett was messed up after that! And—” she paused, almost choking on the words, “—and I was too!”
$D_name let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through $D_hisher hair, clearly irritated. “Look, I don’t have a whole roster for family trees, okay? I didn’t know he was your brother when it happened. It was a one-time thing with both of you.”
Layla crossed her arms, clearly not satisfied. “That’s not an excuse! You didn’t even care about what it would do to either of us, did you? You just waltzed in and out like it didn’t matter.”
$D_name leaned back against the wall, hands in $D_hisher pockets, and gave her a long look.
“Your brother was at least a hell of a lot more respectable about me not wanting anything more at the time,” $D_heshe said flatly, voice cool now. “Which isn’t something I can say about you.”
Her face twisted in anger and hurt. The hurt part was obvious, and even though her anger was coming out in waves, beneath it, it was clear she didn’t know how to process the whole mess.
“You have no idea how hard that was for me,” she snapped, though the edge in her voice wavered. “I thought there was something more with us, and then you just… cut me off. Like I didn’t even exist. And then to find out you slept with Brett—God, it was like I wasn’t even a person to you!”
$D_name pinched the bridge of $D_hisher nose, looking weary, like $D_heshe had heard this same argument a hundred times. “Look, I told you back then it wasn’t going to be anything serious. I was honest with you. I didn’t string you along or lie about what I wanted.”
“Honest?!” Her voice cracked on the word, and for a second, her anger was replaced by something far more wrathful. “You think just saying it upfront makes it better? Like, oh, great, you were honest, so it’s totally fine that you broke my heart. That’s not how this works, Rook.”
The tension was palpable now, and you stood just outside their circle, unsure whether to intervene or stay back. The girl’s hurt, the mix of bitterness and vulnerability, was hanging thick in the air, and $D_name's cold detachment only seemed to make it worse.
“I didn’t break your heart,” $D_name said slowly, like $D_heshe was explaining something simple to a child. “You broke your own heart by expecting me to be something I wasn’t. I told you from the start what it was, and you’re mad because I didn’t magically turn into someone different. That’s on you.”
<<if $D_gender is "male">>Layla’s face twisted, pain flashing across her features. She opened her mouth to retort, but no words came out. She looked like she was grasping for something to say, something that would make the situation better, or at least explain why it hurt so much, but nothing came. Finally, she just shook her head, her voice quieter now. “You’re such an asshole.”<<else>>Layla’s face twisted, pain flashing across her features. She opened her mouth to retort, but no words came out. She looked like she was grasping for something to say, something that would make the situation better, or at least explain why it hurt so much, but nothing came. Finally, she just shook her head, her voice quieter now. “You’re such a bitch.”<</if>>
$D_name sighed, pushing off the wall and stepping closer, though $D_hisher face remained impassive.
“Maybe I am,” $D_heshe said, shrugging as if it didn’t matter either way. “But I’m not responsible for your feelings. I didn’t lead you on, and I sure as hell didn’t ask for your brother to get involved.”
Layla’s eyes flared again at the mention of Brett. “Don’t you dare bring him into this like it was his fault!”
“I’m not,” $D_heshe replied coolly. “I’m saying it was a one-time thing, just like it was with you. I didn’t owe either of you more than that.”
Layla shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes now. She looked as if she was teetering on the edge, like she was about to say something else but then thought better of it. Instead, she turned on her heel, storming off into the crowd without another word.
$D_name let out a heavy sigh, watching the girl storm off before turning to the side and slipping out of the party through the back door. The weight of the night pressed down on $D_himher, and $D_heshe needed air—space away from the accusing stares and expectations that seemed to follow $D_himher wherever $D_heshe went.
<<button "Next" "PB1 2">><</button>>/*[[PB1 2]]*/You stood there for a moment, unsure. Part of you wanted to let $D_himher be, give $D_himher the space $D_heshe clearly needed. After all, you didn’t really know anyone else here, but at the same time, you’d only known $D_name for a couple of days. Maybe it wasn’t your place to follow. Maybe $D_heshe didn’t want you to. But then again, the thought of staying in the loud, messy chaos of the party didn’t sit right either. You weren’t ready to fade back into the background just yet.
Before you could talk yourself out of it, you found your feet moving, following $D_himher outside. The air was cooler, quieter, a relief from the pulsing heat of the house. You spotted $D_name sitting on the grass by the edge of the yard, legs stretched out, head tilted back as $D_heshe stared up at the night sky. The soft murmur of distant traffic and the occasional shout from inside the house were the only sounds breaking the quiet.
You hesitated again, but then sat down beside $D_himher, the grass cool against your skin. $D_name seemed surprised when $D_heshe glanced over, eyebrows raising slightly before $D_heshe gave you a small, crooked smile.
“You really don’t take a hint, do you?” $D_heshe teased, though $D_hisher tone was light, not at all annoyed.
“I guess not,” you replied, shrugging. “Couldn’t really leave you out here all alone.”
$D_name chuckled, the sound short and dry. “Trust me, I’m used to it.”
The silence stretched for a beat before $D_heshe shifted, scratching the back of $D_hisher head awkwardly.
“I was gonna make a joke,” $D_heshe muttered, $D_hisher voice quieter now, “but I don’t think it would’ve landed.”
You raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious. “Try me.”
$D_name shook $D_hisher head, grimacing. “Nah, wouldn’t be my best work.” $D_HeShe paused, eyes flicking back to the party. Then $D_heshe sighed again, a deeper, more tired sound. “You ever feel like… like you’re playing a part? Like everyone’s got these expectations, and you just go along with it, even if you know it’s not really you?”
You blinked at the sudden shift, surprised at the vulnerability creeping into $D_hisher voice. This wasn’t the cocky, carefree person you’d seen at the party.
“Yeah,” you said after a moment, your voice soft. “I get that.”
$D_name scoffed, though it wasn’t aimed at you. “It’s like… I do what people want, what they expect, right? I play along, I have fun, I’m the person they want me to be. But then, the second I draw the line—like, really draw it—they act like I’ve betrayed them. Like I’m the one who’s at fault for not being… more.”
You didn’t say anything at first, just listened. It was strange, hearing $D_himher open up like this when you’d only known each other for such a short time. But there was something raw about it, something that felt real in a way that so few things did these days. It made you feel like you were seeing the real $D_name, not the version of $D_himher $D_heshe showed to everyone else.
“I think people just… they make up their own ideas about you,” you decided to say quietly. “They decide who you are before you even get a chance to show them.”
$D_name glanced at you, surprised by your response. $D_HisHer lips quirked into a sad smile. “Yeah.”
<<button "Next" "PB1 3">><</button>>/*[[PB1 3]]*/The silence between you was comfortable now, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with pointless conversation. The weight of $D_hisher confession hung in the air, but it wasn’t oppressive. It was just there, lingering between you, an unspoken understanding.
<<if $D_gender is "male">>“It gets tiring, you know?” he continued after a moment, his voice soft, almost like he was talking more to himself than to you. “Always being what people want, always playing the role. And then when I don’t live up to whatever version of me they’ve created, it’s like… I’m the asshole. They’re disappointed in me for not being who they thought I was.”<<else>>“It gets tiring, you know?” she continued after a moment, her voice soft, almost like she was talking more to herself than to you. “Always being what people want, always playing the role. And then when I don’t live up to whatever version of me they’ve created, it’s like… I’m the asshole. They’re disappointed in me for not being who they thought I was.”<</if>>
You nodded, feeling the weight of $D_hisher words. “It’s like they want you to fit their mold, and when you don’t, it’s your fault. Not theirs for assuming.”
“Exactly,” $D_name said, $D_hisher tone sharper now, more frustrated. “I’m tired of it. I’m tired of people acting like I owe them more than what I’m willing to give. I’m tired of being the person who has to break their hearts just because they don’t want to see the truth.”
You didn’t know what to say to that. There wasn’t much you could say, really. You could feel the weight of $D_hisher frustration, the exhaustion that came from constantly having to live up to everyone’s expectations. And you knew that kind of tiredness—maybe not in the same way $D_heshe did, but you understood the feeling of being weighed down by what people thought you should be.
“I don’t know why I’m telling you all this,” $D_heshe said after a long pause, his voice quiet again. “We’ve only known each other for what, two days?”
You smiled slightly. “Sometimes it’s easier to talk to someone new. Less history, fewer expectations.”
$D_name looked over at you, a soft laugh escaping $D_himher. “Yeah. Maybe you’re right.”
The two of you sat in silence for a while longer. It was peaceful out here, away from the noise and the drama of the party, just the two of you sitting in the grass, staring up at the stars.
<<button "Next" "****">><</button>>/*[[****]]*/$K_name’s hands slid a little lower, fingers firm but not pushy, guiding you as you moved together, almost like you’d been dancing like this for years. There was something intoxicating about the moment—the closeness of $K_name and the way $K_heshe seemed to fit against you like you were made for this kind of thing. The kind of thing where nothing mattered but the beat of the music and the heat between you.
$K_HeShe leaned in closer, $K_hisher mouth grazing your ear, voice low but clear over the music. “Can I kiss you?”
It caught you off guard, even though you’d felt the tension building all night. You didn’t answer right away, your mind spinning as you processed the question. You looked at $K_name, the way $K_heshe gazed back at you with a mix of anticipation and something darker, hungrier.
*[[“Yes.”|PB2 1.1.1]]
*[[“No.”|PB2 1.1.2]]You barely said it before $K_heshe was kissing you, the press of $K_hisher lips urgent, insistent. It was like a switch flipped. The moment your mouths met, everything else—every thought, every sound, every other person—faded away. All that existed was $K_name’s hands pulling you closer, $K_hisher body pressed against yours, and the heat of the kiss as it deepened, became something more raw. More reckless.
$K_HeShe didn’t waste time, backing you up until your back hit the wall with a soft thud, lips still locked on yours as $K_heshe kissed you harder, like $K_heshe was trying to erase any space between you. There was nothing soft about it, nothing tentative. It was rough, impatient, the way $K_heshe bit your lip and tugged on your shirt like $K_heshe wanted to tear it off right there.
Your mind buzzed with the intensity of it all, fingers gripping $K_hisher waist as $K_heshe practically pinned you to the wall, the music still thundering around you, but somehow feeling distant. The moment was consuming, your senses overwhelmed by $K_hisher scent, the taste of $K_hisher lips, the feel of $K_hisher hands on you. You could barely breathe, barely think beyond the fact that this was happening, and it wasn’t slowing down.
But then something changed. A ripple of unease passed through the crowd, subtle at first, almost unnoticeable, but there. You felt it before you saw it, the way the energy in the room shifted—like the air had suddenly become heavier, more nervous. You glanced around, trying to pinpoint the source of the discomfort, but there were too many people, too many flashing lights. Everything was too loud, too bright, too much.
And then it happened.
A shout. A crash. Someone shoved past you, almost knocking you off your feet, and you stumbled, catching yourself against $K_name.
“What the hell?” you muttered, looking around wildly as more people started pushing and shoving, the crowd suddenly in chaos.
That’s when you heard it—the unmistakable crack of a gunshot.
Your heart lurched, adrenaline spiking through your veins as the noise ripped through the room, followed by another shot, and then another. Screams filled the air, and the party erupted into full-blown panic. People were running, pushing each other out of the way, tripping over furniture, and shoving towards the exits in a blind rush to escape.
$K_name grabbed your arm, eyes wide with fear.
“We need to go,” $K_heshe said urgently, pulling you toward the back of the room. But it was impossible to move quickly, not with the crush of people all surging in different directions, trampling over each other in their desperation to get out.
You tried to stay close to $K_name, but the panic around you was too overwhelming. Bodies pressed in on all sides, shoving and elbowing, the heat of the room turning suffocating. Your breath came faster, chest tight as you tried to push through the crowd, your eyes scanning desperately for any clear path to the exit.
“$K_name!” you called, but your voice was swallowed by the noise, by the screams and the pounding music that still played despite everything. You caught a glimpse of $K_name’s back as $K_heshe was jostled further away, disappearing into the mass of people.
You pushed forward, trying to follow, but it was no use. You were swept up in the flood of bodies, pulled in every direction but the one you needed. A cold, gnawing fear curled in your stomach as you realized you’d lost sight of $K_name. The crowd surged again, pushing you toward the exit, and you stumbled, nearly falling as someone else crashed into you from behind.
The sound of police sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder as they approached the house. Panic flared brighter, and you could see flashes of red and blue lights outside the windows, the reflection bouncing off the walls in erratic patterns. You tried to keep your head, to focus on getting out, but it felt like the walls were closing in, like the air was being sucked from the room.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3 Ending 3">><</button>>/*[[Ch 3 Ending 3]]*/You hesitated. For a split second, you weren’t sure what you wanted, and then you shook your head, the word slipping out before you could second-guess it.
$K_name’s lips curved into a smile, but it wasn’t disappointed or angry. It was understanding, gentle. $K_HeShe nodded, giving your waist a light squeeze before pulling back slightly, enough to give you some space.
“Okay,” $K_heshe said, voice low but playful. “No pressure. Let’s just keep dancing.”
And that’s what you did. You danced together, the tension still there but simmering now, bubbling just below the surface but never crossing a line. $K_name seemed content to just enjoy the moment, spinning you around, pulling you back, laughing softly as $K_heshe twirled you away and then reeled you back in. It was easy, natural, even if you could still feel the hum of what could have been beneath it all.
But then something changed. A ripple of unease passed through the crowd, subtle at first, almost unnoticeable, but there. You felt it before you saw it, the way the energy in the room shifted—like the air had suddenly become heavier, more nervous. You glanced around, trying to pinpoint the source of the discomfort, but there were too many people, too many flashing lights. Everything was too loud, too bright, too much.
And then it happened.
A shout. A crash. Someone shoved past you, almost knocking you off your feet, and you stumbled, catching yourself against $K_name.
“What the hell?” you muttered, looking around wildly as more people started pushing and shoving, the crowd suddenly in chaos.
That’s when you heard it—the unmistakable crack of a gunshot.
Your heart lurched, adrenaline spiking through your veins as the noise ripped through the room, followed by another shot, and then another. Screams filled the air, and the party erupted into full-blown panic. People were running, pushing each other out of the way, tripping over furniture, and shoving towards the exits in a blind rush to escape.
$K_name grabbed your arm, eyes wide with fear.
“We need to go,” $K_heshe said urgently, pulling you toward the back of the room. But it was impossible to move quickly, not with the crush of people all surging in different directions, trampling over each other in their desperation to get out.
You tried to stay close to $K_name, but the panic around you was too overwhelming. Bodies pressed in on all sides, shoving and elbowing, the heat of the room turning suffocating. Your breath came faster, chest tight as you tried to push through the crowd, your eyes scanning desperately for any clear path to the exit.
“$K_name!” you called, but your voice was swallowed by the noise, by the screams and the pounding music that still played despite everything. You caught a glimpse of $K_name’s back as $K_heshe was jostled further away, disappearing into the mass of people.
You pushed forward, trying to follow, but it was no use. You were swept up in the flood of bodies, pulled in every direction but the one you needed. A cold, gnawing fear curled in your stomach as you realized you’d lost sight of $K_name. The crowd surged again, pushing you toward the exit, and you stumbled, nearly falling as someone else crashed into you from behind.
The sound of police sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder as they approached the house. Panic flared brighter, and you could see flashes of red and blue lights outside the windows, the reflection bouncing off the walls in erratic patterns. You tried to keep your head, to focus on getting out, but it felt like the walls were closing in, like the air was being sucked from the room.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3 Ending 3">><</button>>/*[[Ch 3 Ending 3]]*/<<notify>>Saved!<</notify>>You were still trying to catch your breath when a hand suddenly grabbed your arm, firm but not violent. The touch jolted you out of your daze, and before you could react, you were being yanked through the crowd, nearly tripping over your own feet in the process.
<<if $W_gender is "male">>Your vision blurred for a second, your mind spinning from the panic that had already set in, but you caught flashes—a glint of blonde hair, the edge of an aviator’s jacket as you stumbled forward. You barely had time to process what was happening before you found yourself moving faster, your arm still held in a tight grip.<<else>>Your vision blurred for a second, your mind spinning from the panic that had already set in, but you caught flashes—a glint of blonde hair, the edge of a brown blazer as you stumbled forward. You barely had time to process what was happening before you found yourself moving faster, your arm still held in a tight grip.<</if>>
“Wh-what the fuck is going on?" you managed to gasp out, your voice hoarse from the adrenaline pumping through your veins. You twisted your head to get a better look at the $W_guy dragging you away from the chaos, but the world around you was a blur of blinding lights, screaming voices, and the sounds of heavy footsteps echoing against the pavement.
The $W_guy’s grip tightened slightly, but it wasn’t threatening—just insistent. Whoever $W_heshe was, $W_heshe wanted you out of there. Fast.
“Doesn’t matter,” the voice was urgent, clear, but there was something protective about it. “Just run.”
The words weren’t a suggestion. They were a command.
You stumbled again, trying to keep up, your feet moving clumsily beneath you as you were pulled through the fleeing crowd. Your head swiveled, eyes darting, desperately searching for $D_name in the mass of people still pouring out from the house. You couldn’t see $D_himher anywhere, and the police sirens were getting closer, their wail piercing the night, making your chest tighten.
“I can’t—” you tried again, but before you could say anything else, the person holding your arm tugged harder, pulling you forward with more force this time.
“Just keep running,” the voice barked out again, more urgent this time, leaving no room for argument. You felt your pulse hammer in your throat, the mix of fear and confusion surging inside you, but something in the tone made you listen, made you obey without thinking.
You ran.
Your legs burned with every step, and the cold air stung your lungs, but you pushed through it, trusting whoever this $W_guy was because right now, $W_heshe was the only thing keeping you moving. You could hear the sirens trailing behind you, growing louder, closer. Your heart pounded in rhythm with your frantic footsteps, and your mind raced with a thousand questions, but none of them mattered right now. All that mattered was getting out.
The streets blurred around you, the once familiar surroundings of the party now a distant memory as you were dragged further away from the chaos. You could feel the pull of the campus up ahead, the looming buildings of Yale starting to come into focus as you stumbled alongside your mysterious rescuer.
<<if $W_gender is "male">>The wind whipped past your face, carrying with it the distant sounds of yelling and commotion from the party behind you, but the noise was starting to fade, swallowed up by the night. You glanced over at the figure still gripping your arm—dirty blonde hair glowing under the streetlights, a flash of leather from the jacket or blazer catching your eye every now and then as he ran beside you.<<else>>The wind whipped past your face, carrying with it the distant sounds of yelling and commotion from the party behind you, but the noise was starting to fade, swallowed up by the night. You glanced over at the figure still gripping your arm—dirty blonde hair glowing under the streetlights, a flash of lenin from the blazer catching your eye every now and then as she ran beside you.<</if>>
“Who are you?” you asked again, breathless this time, but the words were swallowed by the wind.
$W_HeShe didn’t answer. Instead, $W_heshe led you through the maze of campus buildings, weaving between alleys and cutting across courtyards. Your mind was a blur of confusion and exhaustion, but your body kept moving, following the steady pull of the hand still gripping your arm.
After what felt like an eternity, the two of you skidded to a halt, your breath coming in harsh gasps. You were finally back inside the safety of the campus, the familiar stone walls of Yale rising around you, solid and reassuring. The sirens were still echoing in the distance, but they were far away now, like the memory of a bad dream.
You leaned forward, hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath as the adrenaline still coursed through your veins, leaving you shaky and unsteady.
“Do we know each other?”
<<button "Next Chapter" "Ch 4.2.1">><<script>>
Dialog.setup("Content Warnings");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Ch 4 CW").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.2.1]]*/But even in the intensity of it all, you couldn’t help but glance to the side, scanning the crowd. From the corner of your eye, you spotted $D_name, standing near the edge of the dance floor, searching for something—or someone. $D_HeShe had a slightly tense look, shoulders stiff as $D_heshe surveyed the crowd, eyes darting around with an edge of impatience. And then, suddenly, $D_hisher gaze locked on you.
Your heart skipped a beat.
For a second, you forgot the rhythm of the dance. The way $D_hisher gray eyes flickered with an emotion that looked like disappointment—or maybe even hurt—and pulled you out of the moment with $K_name. You weren’t sure what exactly it was, but it hit you like a judder, and your body momentarily froze.
$D_name blinked, and just as quickly as it had appeared, that flash of emotion on $D_hisher face vanished, replaced by the same nonchalant mask $D_heshe always wore. But the damage was done; you’d seen it. A small knot formed in your chest, making the air feel thicker.
You turned your attention back to $K_name, whose hands on your waist tightened slightly as $K_heshe leaned in, mouth close to your ear, murmuring something you didn’t quite catch over the music. But it didn’t matter. You weren’t paying attention anymore. Your thoughts were still on $D_name, and as the lights pulsed again, painting the crowd in strobing shades, you saw $D_himher shift.
A random person—someone you didn’t recognize—stepped up to $D_name. The person’s face was half-hidden by the people around, but their boldness was impossible to miss. They slid in front of $D_name, cutting through the dance floor like they owned the space. At first, $D_name looked distracted, like $D_heshe wasn’t even paying attention to them, still glancing at you from across the crowd.
And then, just as your chest tightened with some unnameable feeling, the stranger leaned in and kissed $D_name.
It wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t cautious. The kiss was full, almost aggressive, and you could see the surprise flash across $D_hisher face—like $D_heshe hadn’t seen it coming at all. $D_name stood there, eyes wide for a second, caught off guard, before something clicked back into place.
You froze, the scene unfolding in slow motion, every second dragging as you watched. Your feet felt like they were glued to the floor, your mind a tangle of confusion, jealousy, and something bitter you didn’t want to name.
But what really hit you, what made your breath catch, was that as the stranger kissed $D_name, $D_hisher eyes weren’t on them at all. They were on you.
$D_name’s gray eyes—cool, unreadable—stared right into yours, even as $D_hisher lips pressed against the stranger’s. There was something almost defiant in the way $D_heshe didn’t pull away, but $D_heshe also didn’t really lean into it, either. It was as if $D_heshe was... waiting. For what, you couldn’t tell.
For you to look away? For you to react?
Your breath hitched, indecision wrapping around you like a noose. Part of you wanted to storm over there, to demand answers, but for what? What claim did you have on $D_name? And yet…
*[[You abruptly turn away, walking outside to catch some fresh air.|PB2 1.2.1][$Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100), $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100)]]
*<<link 'Two can play this game. You leaned in and pressed your lips against $K_name’s.' "PB2 1.2.2">><<set $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100); $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>>/*[[PB2 1.2.2]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Shy<</notify>>Without thinking, your feet moved before your brain could catch up, and you broke away from $K_name, pushing through the crowd with a hurried urgency. Behind you, you vaguely registered $K_name calling your name, but you didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. The air in the room had become too thick, too oppressive, and your chest felt tight, like you were suffocating.
The cold night air hit your skin the moment you stumbled outside, a wave of relief crashing over you as you took in a deep breath, filling your lungs with something that wasn’t smothering heat or tension. The sound of the party dimmed behind you, and you found yourself wandering over to a patch of grass, far enough from the building that the throbbing bass of the music became a dull pulse, almost like a heartbeat in the distance.
You sat down, legs folding beneath you as you put your head in your hands, trying to shake the tension that had wrapped itself around your shoulders. The scene you had just witnessed played in your head again and again—$D_name kissing that stranger, those eyes on you the whole time. What did it even mean? Why did it make your chest ache in a way you didn’t understand?
You let out a frustrated sigh, staring up at the stars. It was stupid, really. You barely knew $D_name, and yet you felt… unsteady. Unsure.
Suddenly, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching. You tensed, not expecting anyone to follow you out, let alone—
“I didn’t expect you to leave like that,” $D_name said, breaking the silence, voice quieter than you’d ever heard it.
You swallowed, your gaze fixed on the ground. “Yeah, well… I didn’t expect to see you kissing someone either.”
$D_name exhaled softly, and you could feel the weight of $D_hisher eyes on you, but you didn’t look back. Not yet. “It wasn’t... planned.”
You scoffed a little at that, the sound escaping before you could stop it. “Didn’t look like you hated it.”
The comment hung in the air, sharper than you intended, and for a moment you regretted saying it. But then $D_name settled down beside you, and when $D_heshe spoke again, there was a softness in $D_hisher voice you hadn’t expected.
A humorless chuckle slipped from $D_hisher lips, dry and hollow. “Yeah, I’m good at pretending. Guess I’ve gotten better at it than I realized.”
You glanced sideways at $D_himher, catching the way $D_hisher expression shifted—tight, guarded, like $D_heshe was caught between wanting to explain and wanting to retreat. $D_HeShe let out a long breath, rubbing the back of $D_hisher neck, clearly uncomfortable. “It’s what people expect from me. You know?”
You weren’t sure you did. Not fully, anyway. But you stayed silent, letting $D_himher continue.
Then $D_hisher voice softened, and when $D_heshe spoke next, it was almost... apologetic.
“I’m sorry if I made you feel weird. Or uncomfortable.” $D_HisHer eyes flickered toward you briefly before dropping back to the ground. “I don’t usually... talk about this stuff. Not with anyone, really.”
You were quiet for a moment, absorbing what $D_heshe said. It was hard to reconcile this vulnerable version of $D_name with the confident, seemingly carefree person you thought you knew. But it was real—this side of $D_himher. And that made it feel even more significant.
“I didn’t think I’d care,” $D_heshe admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “But when I saw you with that $K_guy... I don’t know. Something in me just—” $D_heshe broke off, eyes closing as $D_heshe scrubbed a hand over $D_hisher face, clearly frustrated with $D_himself. “I froze. I went on autopilot. I did what I always do, which is... run from anything that actually feels real.”
You blinked, taken aback by the admission. “You’re saying...” you trailed off, trying to find the right words. “You ran from <em>me</em>?”
$D_name let out a shaky breath, hands curling into fists on $D_hisher knees.
“Yeah,” $D_heshe said softly, almost too soft to hear. “I guess I did.”
You weren’t sure what to say to that.
<<button "Next" "****">><</button>>/*[[****]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Bold<</notify>>The response was instant. $K_name’s mouth moved against yours with an eagerness that almost caught you off guard, hands tightening around your $K_waist in a way that pulled you closer, aligning your body with $K_hishers. The kiss was all heat—no hesitation, no second-guessing—just pure want. It was as if $K_heshe had been waiting for this moment the whole time, maybe even hoping for it.
But as the pressure of the kiss deepened, a low hum of approval vibrating from $K_name’s throat, something felt... off. You were kissing $K_name, and they were kissing you back like they meant it—like they were entirely in the moment, wrapped up in you, in the thrill of it all. But even as you tilted your head, even as you let the warmth of $K_name’s touch seep into your skin, your mind and eyes were somewhere else.
No, not somewhere else. Someone else.
<em>$D_name.</em>
Because you weren’t sure if it was jealousy in $D_hisher gaze, or maybe anger. Or maybe... something else entirely.
The air felt heavy, like it was pressing down on you from all sides, suffocating, even though you were outside, in the open. You were caught in a tug-of-war, the sensation of $K_name’s hands on you grounding you in one reality while $D_name’s gaze pulled you into another.
For a moment, it was like you and $D_name were the only two people in the room, everyone else fading into a blur of lights and moving bodies. The kiss with $K_name became secondary—just a placeholder, something happening on the surface while everything underneath churned with far more intensity.
You shouldn’t have looked. You shouldn’t have let your gaze drift toward $D_name at all. But now that you had, you couldn’t pull it away. It was like you were locked in place, the real tension, the real pull, wasn’t between you and $K_name at all—it was between you and $D_name.
And it was unsettling.
The way $D_name looked at you—it wasn’t neutral. It wasn’t careless. No matter how hard $D_heshe tried to pretend otherwise, the energy between you sparked like a live wire, humming with a jolt that made your skin prickle with heat in a way that had nothing to do with the kiss happening right now.
$K_name’s fingers threaded into your hair, pulling you deeper into the kiss, and yet it didn’t feel like it mattered anymore. Your mind was already somewhere else, your body following along, but without real intention behind it. And it was like $D_name knew. Knew exactly what was happening. Knew that despite the fact you were here, kissing someone else, the real connection, the real collision, was happening between you and $D_himher.
Suddenly, a voice pierced the moment, cutting through the thick haze like a sword, snapping you back to reality.
“$K_name!” someone called, and the interruption was so sudden it made $K_name groan in frustration, pulling back from the kiss with a soft, breathless laugh.
$K_HeShe shook $K_hisher head, a crooked smile forming on $K_hisher lips as $K_heshe glanced toward the source of the interruption.
“Hold that thought,” $K_name murmured, still close enough that you could feel $K_hisher breath against your skin, warm and teasing. “I’ll be right back.”
The smile $K_name gave you was half-apology, half-promise, eyes gleaming with satisfaction before $K_heshe slipped away into the crowd, following the voice that had called out for $K_himher.
And then you were alone.
Or, at least, you felt alone, standing there on the edge of the dance floor, the heat from $K_name’s kiss still clinging to your skin. But you still felt like something was missing. The lights pulsed, the music throbbed, but the energy from before—whatever had kept you grounded—was gone.
Because your thoughts were already back on $D_name.
Without thinking, your feet started moving, pushing through the crowd, each step feeling heavier than the last. The noise of the party swelled around you, but it felt far away, like you were walking underwater. You didn’t even notice the door until you were already outside, the cold air hitting you like a shock, bringing a sudden clarity that only seemed to make the ache in your chest sharper.
You stumbled into the night, your heart still racing, your thoughts still tangled in a mess of confusion, jealousy, and that bitter, unnameable feeling you’d been trying to ignore.
Why did it matter? Why did $D_name matter?
You hadn’t known $D_himher long enough for this kind of reaction to make sense. And yet, that kiss—the way $D_hisher eyes had stayed on yours the whole time—it had cracked something open in you, something you hadn’t realized was there until it was too late to close it back up.
You found a quiet spot near the edge of the lawn, far enough from the building that the sound of the party became a dull hum in the distance. The grass was cool beneath you as you sat down, resting your elbows on your knees, burying your face in your hands as you tried to get a handle on everything swirling inside you.
You stayed like that for a long moment, breathing in the cool night air, trying to settle the storm of emotions that raged inside your chest. But no matter how many deep breaths you took, the tightness in your chest wouldn’t ease.
And then, just when you thought you might have a moment of peace, you heard footsteps.
Slow, deliberate. Coming closer.
You didn’t have to look up to know who it was.
“$MC_firstname,” $D_name's voice was soft but firm, like $D_heshe was testing the weight of your name on $D_hisher tongue. You didn’t respond right away. You didn’t even look up. But you felt $D_himher move closer, the grass crunching softly beneath $D_hisher shoes until $D_heshe settled down next to you.
You half-expected $D_himher to stay there, hovering awkwardly like some people did when they weren’t sure what to say. But no—$D_name didn’t stay on the sidelines. Not this time.
With a quiet exhale, $D_heshe sat down beside you.
The silence between you stretched, not quite uncomfortable, but heavy, weighted by all the things neither of you seemed to know how to say. You could feel the warmth of $D_hisher presence beside you, even though your bodies weren’t touching. You wanted to break the silence, to ask what $D_heshe was doing out here, or maybe to demand why $D_heshe hadn’t just stayed inside and kissed that stranger like it didn’t mean anything.
But the words wouldn’t come.
After what felt like hours, but was probably only minutes, $D_name finally spoke.
“I don’t... I don’t know what happened back there. I’m sorry.”
The words were so soft you almost didn’t catch them, but $D_hisher honest tone made you turn your head, made you look at $D_himher.
There, in the dim light, $D_hisher eyes weren’t unreadable anymore. They were clear, open, almost fragile in a way that felt raw, like you were seeing an emotion you weren’t supposed to.
And for the first time, you saw the truth behind the mask.
$D_HeShe was just as confused as you.
<<button "Next" "****">><</button>>/*[[****]]*/For a moment, $D_name stood there, hand still extended, as if $D_heshe hadn’t expected you to say no. Then $D_heshe dropped it with a casual shrug, but you could see something flicker in $D_hisher eyes—something uncertain.
“No worries,” $D_heshe said, brushing it off like it was nothing, even though the tension between you both lingered, unspoken.
You both settled back down, the stillness between you growing, the sounds of the party fading into the background. The quiet stretched, comfortable in a strange way, like neither of you had the energy to fill it anymore. Just sitting there, with the night enveloping you both, felt like the right thing to do—an unspoken truce between you, a pause.
Then, the sharp crack of gunfire sliced through the quiet.
It took a second for you to realize what it was. At first, it seemed so out of place, too wrong for the moment. But when the second shot rang out, closer and clearer, your blood ran cold. You looked at $D_name, wide-eyed.
“Did you hear that?” you muttered, not quite believing it. But $D_name's eyes were already wide, body tensed and alert.
“Shit,” $D_heshe whispered, standing up fast. Without another word, $D_heshe started running back toward the house.
Adrenaline hit you all at once, and you scrambled to follow $D_name, your heart pounding in your chest like a drum. Everything else fell away as you raced toward the party, your feet slamming into the pavement. The sound of shouting and panic was getting louder with every step, mixing with the far-off wail of sirens.
When you reached the front of the house, it was chaotic. People were shoving past each other, pushing their way out of the house in blind panic, their faces masks of terror. Screams filled the air, the wild kind of screaming that cut through you like a knife, and the flashing red-and-blue lights of the approaching police cars blurred everything.
Your eyes darted around, searching for $D_name, but all you saw was the blur of bodies, too many people, too much confusion. For a second, you caught sight of $D_himher ahead, weaving through the crowd, but before you could follow, a massive guy barreled into you, sending you crashing to the ground.
The impact was brutal. You hit the pavement hard, the breath knocked out of your lungs. For a moment, everything spun—lights, noise, people—all a dizzying whirl around you. Your hands scraped against the rough ground, and pain shot up your palms, but all you could focus on was trying to get back up.
You gasped for air, pushing yourself onto your hands and knees, your heart racing as people shoved past you.
“$D_name!” you shouted, your voice lost in the chaos, the sound swallowed by the screams and sirens.
Before you could find your footing, another person tripped over you, knocking you back down. You fell again, your arms giving out, your vision blurring. The panic rose in your chest, sharp and cutting, as you tried to push yourself up, but it was impossible in the crush of bodies. You craned your neck, searching desperately for $D_name, but $D_heshe was nowhere to be seen.
The sirens were getting closer, louder, the flashing lights throwing everything into a surreal, nightmarish haze. You tried to move, but another person collided with you, and it felt like you were drowning in the crowd, pulled under by the wave of panicked people.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3 Ending 3">><</button>>/*[[Ch 3 Ending 3]]*/<<audio "DH1stealingbikes" loop play>><<if $option is 1>><<notify 5s>>+ Friendly<</notify>>“Won’t they what?” $D_heshe cut in smoothly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of $D_hisher lips, though it didn’t quite reach $D_hisher eyes. “Miss me? Worry about me? They’ll survive. Trust me.”
There was a moment of silence as you studied $D_himher. Something about the way $D_heshe spoke—so casual, so unbothered—didn’t sit right with you. There was more to this, you could feel it. But you couldn’t place what.<<elseif $option is 2>><<notify 5s>>+ Bold<</notify>>$D_name didn’t hesitate, didn’t even glance back toward the building. Instead, $D_heshe smiled—wide, bold, and full of an energy you hadn’t seen in $D_himher all night.
“Now you’re talking,” $D_heshe said, stepping forward with a confidence that was contagious. You found yourself grinning despite yourself, the adrenaline from earlier still humming in your veins.<<else>><<notify 5s>>+ Shy<</notify>>It wasn’t the most eloquent response, but $D_name didn’t seem to mind. In fact, $D_hisher lips quirked up into the faintest smile—one of those rare, genuine ones you only saw when $D_heshe wasn’t performing for anyone.<</if>><<unset $option>>
As you walked together, you noticed the way $D_hisher hand brushed yours, close but not quite touching. You weren’t sure if it was on purpose, but you didn’t pull away. The air between you was filled with unspoken words, but $D_name didn’t push it. $D_HeShe seemed content to just be there, present, without needing to fill the space with bravado or flirtation.
As the noise faded, you realized where $D_heshe was heading—a row of bikes parked against a stand. $D_HeShe slowed, scanning the options with a critical eye before confidently pulling one from the rack.
$D_HeShe threw a glance over $D_hisher shoulder and grinned, tilting $D_hisher head toward the remaining bikes. “C’mon, grab one.”
You blinked, staring at $D_himher like $D_heshe had completely lost it. “Are you crazy? That’s literally theft.”
$D_name snorted, already hopping onto the seat of the bike, balancing on it effortlessly.
“Relax,” $D_HeShe drawled, leaning forward over the handlebars. “No one’s going to notice. We’ll bring them back in an hour or two, tops.” $D_HeShe gestured for you to join $D_himher, a glimmer of mirth in $D_hisher eyes. “Besides, I have enough money to pay the owners off if they complain. This is an ‘emergency.’”
*[[“Fine,” you muttered, shaking your head as you grabbed a bike from the stand. “But if we get caught, I’m blaming you.” [♥︎]|DH1 1.1][$Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100), $D_romance to $D_romance+1]]
*[[“Okay, why not?” you said, striding up to the bikes and pulling one from the rack with a reckless grin of your own. [♥︎]|DH1 1.2][$Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100), $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100), $D_romance to $D_romance+1]]
*[[“I’ve always wanted to see the inside of a jail cell,” you said sarcastically, but there was excitement humming under your voice. “You know what? Let’s do this.” [♥︎]|DH1 1.3][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100), $D_romance to $D_romance+1]]
*[[You sighed, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. “Alright, but we really are bringing them back as soon as possible.” [♥︎]|DH1 1.4][$Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100), $D_romance to $D_romance+1]]
*[[“Yeah, right,” you scoffed, crossing your arms as you leaned against the nearest bike. “You really think we can get away with this?” [♥︎]|DH1 1.5][$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100), $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious + 3, 0, 100), $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive - 3, 0, 100), $D_romance to $D_romance+1]]<<notify 5s>>+ Uptight, + Aloof<</notify>>$D_name grinned, kicking off the ground and coasting slowly, waiting for you to catch up. “Deal. I’ll take full responsibility.”
As you wobbled onto the bike, trying to find your balance, $D_heshe turned his head slightly, eyes gleaming under the moonlight.
“Just trust me,” $D_heshe said, the tone of his voice playful but carrying an underlying sincerity. “I promise this’ll be worth it.”
You started pedaling, the cool night air rushing past you, and before long, the world around you blurred into a mix of light and shadow. It felt almost exhilarating, freeing, like all the weight of the night had lifted for a brief moment.
<<button "Next" "DH1 2">><</button>>/*[[DH1 2]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Impulsive, + Laidback<</notify>>There was a thrill that rushed through your veins, the kind that only came when you were doing something you knew you shouldn’t but couldn’t resist anyway. The rush of adrenaline was already humming beneath your skin.
$D_name raised an eyebrow, clearly pleased by your immediate compliance.
“That’s the spirit,” $D_heshe said, pushing off on $D_hisher bike with an easy grace that made it look like $D_heshe did this all the time.
You hopped onto your own bike and started pedaling, catching up to $D_himher.
“You’re gonna owe me for this one,” you teased, but your voice was light, playful.
$D_name threw back $D_hisher head and laughed, the sound ringing out into the quiet night.
“Consider it a favor I’ll happily pay back.” $D_HisHer grin was wild and infectious, and for a second, you forgot about the consequences altogether.
<<button "Next" "DH1 2">><</button>>/*[[DH1 2]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Sarcastic, + Friendly<</notify>>$D_name let out a bark of laughter, looking back at you as $D_heshe pedaled forward with ease.
“I knew you had it in you,” $D_heshe teased, kicking off faster now, the bike gliding smoothly down the street. “Knew you couldn’t resist a little adventure.”
You followed, your heart racing—not just from the speed of the bike, but from the reckless thrill of it all. The world seemed to fall away, the rules you normally followed dissolving into the night air. You could hear $D_hisher laughter up ahead, carefree and unburdened.
“Try to keep up,” $D_heshe called, the challenge clear in $D_hisher voice.
You smirked, pedaling harder, the rush of wind cool against your face. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m right behind you.”
<<button "Next" "DH1 2">><</button>>/*[[DH1 2]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Genuine, + Humble<</notify>>$D_name grinned as $D_heshe started pedaling.
“Of course we are,” $D_heshe called back, clearly not concerned in the slightest.
As you kicked off and wobbled a bit, trying to find your balance, $D_heshe slowed down just enough to ride beside you.
“You’re overthinking this,” $D_heshe said, his voice softer now, without the teasing edge. “It’s just a bike ride. Nobody’s gonna care.”
You weren’t entirely sure about that, but the way $D_heshe said it—so calm, so certain—made you believe it for just a second.
<<button "Next" "DH1 2">><</button>>/*[[DH1 2]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Arrogant, + Cautious<</notify>>$D_name rolled $D_hisher eyes, throwing one leg over the bike as $D_heshe straightened up.
“Oh, absolutely,” $D_heshe said, that trademark cocky grin spreading across $D_hisher face. “I’ve gotten away with worse.”
The arrogance in $D_hisher voice was almost infuriating, but at the same time, it was contagious. Against your better judgment, you found yourself laughing as you grabbed the nearest bike and climbed on, ignoring the voice in your head telling you this was a bad idea.
“Alright, lead the way, genius,” you said, voice full of mock exasperation.
$D_name kicked off smoothly, looking back with a smirk. “Oh, I will. Try not to fall behind, alright?”
<<button "Next" "DH1 2">><</button>>/*[[DH1 2]]*/Your legs burned slightly, but it felt good, the kind of burn that made you feel alive. The lights of Park Street flickered by as you turned onto George Street, the faint sound of distant traffic accompanying your journey. $D_name was a few feet ahead, the steady rhythm of $D_hisher movements easy and fluid, like $D_heshe had done this a hundred times before.
There was a looseness to the way $D_hisher body moved, a carefree recklessness that was contagious. You felt lighter, as if the weight of everything that had happened at the party had dissolved into the cool night air. Still, as you coasted through the quieter streets, there was an itch at the back of your mind. You wondered where $D_name was leading you, and whether or not this whole thing would end with you in some real trouble.
You rode in near silence, the occasional laughter slipping from $D_name’s lips when $D_heshe looked over and saw your expression—a mix of thrill and disbelief. Like you couldn’t quite believe you were actually doing this.
South Frontage Road stretched out ahead of you, and soon enough, you made a sharp right onto South Orange Street. The buildings grew taller here, looming over you like silent giants. The night seemed to grow quieter the further you went, the city falling away behind you.
“Where the hell are we going?” you finally called out, your voice cutting through the wind as you tried to keep pace with $D_himher.
$D_name glanced back, a glint of mischief still in $D_hisher eyes as $D_heshe smirked.
“Trust me, you’re gonna love this,” $D_heshe shouted over the sound of your tires spinning against the pavement. “Almost there.”
The two of you kept riding, now veering right onto Church Street from Columbus Avenue, where a high-rise apartment complex came into view. You were about to ask if $D_heshe had some penthouse suite up there when $D_heshe suddenly swerved off the road, leading you around the back of the building. You followed without thinking, gripping your handlebars tighter as your curiosity spiked.
<<button "Next" "DH1 3">><</button>>/*[[DH1 3]]*/Behind the building, tucked away from the main road, was a small, gated area. Through the metal bars, you could just make out the shimmering surface of a pool, glistening with the soft glow of a few dim lights underwater.
$D_name hopped off $D_hisher bike, dropping it carelessly against the gate as $D_heshe fumbled in $D_hisher pocket for his phone and turned on the flashlight. You slid to a stop next to $D_himher, one foot still on the pedal as you stared at the pool.
“What is this?” you asked, your voice slightly breathless, half from the ride, half from the surprise.
“This,” $D_heshe said, spreading $D_hisher arms theatrically, “is my secret spot. Me and my bandmates come here sometimes to celebrate after gigs or when we just want to get away.”
You raised an eyebrow, glancing skeptically at the heavy lock on the gate. “And how exactly are we supposed to get in? That gate looks pretty secure, unless you’ve got some kind of skeleton key.”
$D_name laughed, the sound echoing softly in the quiet alley. “I don’t need a key, I know how to get in.”
You watched as $D_heshe reached for the lock, $D_hisher fingers deftly brushing over the chain and slipping it free with practiced ease. There was a quick click, and just like that, the gate swung open with a soft creak.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you muttered, shaking your head. “You just know how to break into places now?”
$D_HeShe shot you a playful look over $D_hisher shoulder as $D_heshe moved toward the pool. “Relax, it’s not breaking in if you’re not taking anything. We’ll be gone in an hour.”
*[[You were not entirely convinced, but you were already here so might as well. [♥︎]|DH1 4.1][$Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious + 3, 0, 100), $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive - 3, 0, 100), $D_romance to $D_romance+1]]
*[[You grinned, it looked like the night was getting more and more interesting. [♥︎]|DH1 4.2][$Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100), $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100), $D_romance to $D_romance+1]]<<notify 5s>>+ Cautious<</notify>>As $D_name pushed the gate open and gestured for you to follow, you hesitated, glancing around. The pool was definitely secluded, nestled behind the apartment building in a way that felt like it was hidden in plain sight. But still, something didn’t sit right with you.
“Isn’t there security or something?” you asked, stepping through the gate cautiously. “What if someone sees us?”
“Nah,” $D_heshe said with a wave of $D_hisher hand, already pulling off $D_hisher shoes and socks by the side of the pool. “No one’s apartment is really facing this way, and the only security guard we’ve got is Dennis.” $D_HeShe said the name with a dismissive snort, standing up straight and cupping $D_hisher hands around $D_hisher mouth. “DENNIS!” $D_heshe called out into the night, the sound echoing off the brick walls.
You winced, instinctively ducking as if that would make you less noticeable.
“Are you insane?” you whispered harshly, eyes darting around. “What if someone actually hears?”
“Relax!” $D_name grinned, lowering $D_hisher hands. “Dennis is practically deaf. Couldn’t hear a thing if you set off fireworks right next to him.”
<<if $D_gender is "male">>Before you could get another word out, Dumitru moved fast, slipping off his leather jacket in one smooth motion. It hit the pavement with a soft thud, and you barely had time to react before he tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head. His skin was pale and slender but defined in that wiry, lean way that came from being constantly on the move. His ribs and muscles shifted beneath the surface like an unfinished sketch, sharp lines but still fluid, still unpredictable.
His eyes—those piercing, gunmetal gray eyes that always seemed to hold a secret—twinkled under the dim light. Without hesitation, he unbuttoned his jeans, sliding them off until he stood there in nothing but his boxers, the fabric clinging to his frame, and for a split second, you wondered if you were still breathing.<<else>>Before you could get another word out, Dumitra moved fast, slipping off her pink hoodie in one smooth motion. It hit the pavement with a soft thud. Her skin was pale and slender but defined in that wiry, lean way that came from being constantly on the move. Her ribs and muscles shifted beneath the surface like an unfinished sketch, sharp lines but still fluid, still unpredictable.
Her eyes—those piercing, gunmetal gray eyes that always seemed to hold a secret—twinkled under the dim light. Without hesitation, she unbuttoned her jeans, sliding them off until she stood there in nothing but her bra and underwear, the fabric clinging to her frame, and for a split second, you wondered if you were still breathing.<</if>>
You tried to snap out of it and $D_heshe flashed you a grin—a grin that sent a ripple of warmth through you, whether you wanted it to or not—and then, in one fluid move, $D_heshe launched $D_himself into the pool. The water erupted around $D_himher, a splash of cool droplets that showered down on you, drenching your clothes and making you yelp. You barely had time to shield yourself before you were soaked.
“$D_name!” you shouted, though the sound was half-laughter, half-outrage. You wiped the water from your face, your hair now plastered to your forehead.
When $D_heshe resurfaced, $D_hisher grin was even wider, water dripping from $D_hisher chestnut brown hair as $D_heshe slicked it back with a quick swipe of $D_hisher hand. The night clung to $D_himher like $D_heshe belonged to it, water gleaming on $D_hisher pale skin like constellations against the dark backdrop of the pool. $D_HeShe treaded the water with ease, $D_hisher eyes locked on you, that playful, daring energy practically radiating off $D_himher. “You coming in, or are you just gonna stand there all night?”
For a moment, you hesitated, weighing your options. The night was cool, the water cold, and your clothes were already wet, but there was a part of you that was drawn to the wildness of it all—the unpredictability, the recklessness.
<div id="centered"><<link 'Or maybe it was just $D_name.' "DH1 5">><</link>></div>/*[[DH1 5]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Impulsive<</notify>>As $D_heshe pushed the gate open and gestured for you to follow, you quickly did so. The pool was definitely secluded, nestled behind the apartment building in a way that felt like it was hidden in plain sight. The whole action made a little thrill shoot through you at the daringness of it all
“Isn’t there security or something?” you asked, stepping through the gate and looking around curiously. “Will someone see us?”
“Oh, there’s a guard,” $D_name said with a laugh, already pulling off $D_hisher shoes and socks by the edge of the pool. “But trust me, Dennis wouldn’t notice if a marching band paraded through here. Dude’s practically deaf and blind at this point.” $D_HeShe cupped $D_hisher hands around $D_hisher mouth and called out, “DENNIS!” The name rang out into the night, bouncing off the walls of the apartment complex.
“Are you out of your mind?” you hissed, glancing nervously around. “What if he does hear?”
$D_name just grinned with a casual shrug. “He won’t. We’ve done this a hundred times, trust me.”
<<if $D_gender is "male">>Before you could get another word out, Dumitru moved fast, slipping off his leather jacket in one smooth motion. It hit the pavement with a soft thud, and you barely had time to react before he tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head. His skin was pale and slender but defined in that wiry, lean way that came from being constantly on the move. His ribs and muscles shifted beneath the surface like an unfinished sketch, sharp lines but still fluid, still unpredictable.
His eyes—those piercing, gunmetal gray eyes that always seemed to hold a secret—twinkled under the dim light. Without hesitation, he unbuttoned his jeans, sliding them off until he stood there in nothing but his boxers, the fabric clinging to his frame, and for a split second, you wondered if you were still breathing.<<else>>Before you could get another word out, Dumitra moved fast, slipping off her pink hoodie in one smooth motion. It hit the pavement with a soft thud. Her skin was pale and slender but defined in that wiry, lean way that came from being constantly on the move. Her ribs and muscles shifted beneath the surface like an unfinished sketch, sharp lines but still fluid, still unpredictable.
Her eyes—those piercing, gunmetal gray eyes that always seemed to hold a secret—twinkled under the dim light. Without hesitation, she unbuttoned her jeans, sliding them off until she stood there in nothing but her bra and underwear, the fabric clinging to her frame, and for a split second, you wondered if you were still breathing.<</if>>
You tried to snap out of it and $D_heshe flashed you a grin—a grin that sent a ripple of warmth through you, whether you wanted it to or not—and then, in one fluid move, $D_heshe launched $D_himself into the pool. The water erupted around $D_himher, a splash of cool droplets that showered down on you, drenching your clothes and making you yelp. You barely had time to shield yourself before you were soaked.
“$D_name!” you shouted, though the sound was half-laughter, half-outrage. You wiped the water from your face, your hair now plastered to your forehead.
When $D_heshe resurfaced, $D_hisher grin was even wider, water dripping from $D_hisher chestnut brown hair as $D_heshe slicked it back with a quick swipe of $D_hisher hand. The night clung to $D_himher like $D_heshe belonged to it, water gleaming on $D_hisher pale skin like constellations against the dark backdrop of the pool. $D_HeShe treaded the water with ease, $D_hisher eyes locked on you, that playful, daring energy practically radiating off $D_himher. “You coming in, or are you just gonna stand there all night?”
For a moment, you hesitated, weighing your options. The night was cool, the water cold, and your clothes were already wet, but there was a part of you that was drawn to the wildness of it all—the unpredictability, the recklessness.
<div id="centered"><<link 'Or maybe it was just $D_name.' "DH1 5">><</link>></div>/*[[DH1 5]]*/<<audio "DH1stealingbikes" fadeoverto 15 0>>“What’s the matter?” $D_heshe asked, voice taunting but playful. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little water.”
You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest, though the wet fabric of your outfit clung to your skin in a way that was more uncomfortable than intimidating. “You wish.”
$D_name smirked, $D_hisher brow quirking up as $D_heshe continued to float effortlessly. “Oh, I don’t know. I think I see it. You’re hesitating. Come on, it’s not that cold, I promise. Or maybe…” His eyes gleamed even brighter. “Maybe you’re just scared I’ll outswim you.”
That earned $D_himher an eye roll. “Outswim me? Seriously?”
$D_HeShe didn’t answer with words, just gave a half shrug and started swimming backward, $D_hisher strokes so smooth they barely made a ripple in the water. “Only one way to find out, isn’t there?”
Your mind raced for a moment, the night’s cool air biting into your damp skin. The water looked cold, sure, but that wasn’t what made you pause. It was the fact that $D_name, with $D_hisher impetuous energy and easy charm, seemed to know exactly how to pull you into moments like this. Moments where the world outside didn’t matter, where the only thing that existed was the two of you and whatever thrill $D_heshe was chasing next. And maybe part of you liked that, more than you were willing to admit.
Still, you weren’t about to let $D_himher think $D_heshe’d won this one.
*<<link 'Your cheeks burn as you slowly take your clothes off as well, embarrassed but not about to be outshone by $D_himher. [♥︎]' "DH1 6.1">><<set $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100); $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100); $D_romance to $D_romance+1>><</link>>/*[[DH1 6.1]]*/
*<<link 'You boldly take off your clothes, giving $D_himher a little show before jumping into the pool. [♥︎]' "DH1 6.2">><<set $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100); $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100); $D_romance to $D_romance+1>><</link>>/*[[DH1 6.2]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Shy<</notify>>The idea of stripping down felt strangely vulnerable in front of $D_himher, but there was no way you were going to back down now. Not when $D_heshe was grinning at you like that, like $D_heshe knew you wouldn’t do it. Like $D_heshe was counting on your hesitation.
With a breath, you peeled off your clothes. It stuck to your skin, the wet fabric reluctant to leave, and you couldn’t help the heat rising to your cheeks as the cool air hit you. You avoided $D_hisher eyes for a second, suddenly hyper-aware of the way the night felt heavier around you.
But when you dared to glance up, there was a flicker of softness in $D_himher, like $D_heshe wasn’t quite expecting you to go through with it. $D_HisHer grin widened as you kicked off your shoes and fumbled with your clothes. The whole thing felt slightly ridiculous, standing there, half-soaked and flushed, but you were committed now.
The last fabric slid down your legs, and there you were—exposed, standing in your underwear, feeling the weight of $D_hisher gaze on you like a physical thing. You swallowed, forcing a grin to your face, trying to meet $D_hisher challenge with a confidence you didn’t entirely feel.
“There,” you said, voice a bit quieter than you intended. “Happy now?”
$D_name seemed to be in a trance. “Very.”
Before you could think about it any longer, you took a step back and then darted forward, leaping off the edge of the pool and into the water. You hit the surface with a splash, the cold water shocking your skin, but there was a rush of exhilaration that came with it. The water closed over your head, and for a second, everything was quiet, peaceful, before you kicked your way back to the surface.
When you emerged, gasping for air, $D_name was right there, that same grin plastered on his face after $D_heshe shook $D_hisher head to snap out of it.
“Took you long enough,” $D_heshe teased, paddling closer, $D_hisher fingers brushing against your arm as $D_heshe swam past.
You swatted at $D_himher, a laugh escaping before you could stop it. “Shut up.”
<<button "Next" "DH1 POV">><</button>>
/*[[DH1 POV]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Bold<</notify>>You couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips as $D_name continued to float around, looking far too pleased with $D_himself. The teasing in $D_hisher voice, the way he swam so lazily, almost daring you—it all sparked something in you. $D_HeShe wanted a show? Fine. You’d give $D_himher one.
With a slow, deliberate motion, you pulled off your clothes, making sure to take your time with it. The wet fabric slid over your skin, and you flicked it to the side without a second glance, meeting $D_hisher gaze with a raised eyebrow. You caught the way $D_hisher eyes flickered, like $D_heshe hadn’t expected you to go all in like this, and that only fueled your confidence. $D_HisHer grin was still there, but it had softened, like $D_heshe was paying more attention now.
You kicked off your shoes in one quick motion, stepping out of them with ease. Now it was your turn to grin. “Don’t get too comfortable, $D_name. I’m not letting you have all the fun.”
With a wink, you ran toward the edge of the pool, jumping in without hesitation. The cold water enveloped you instantly, stealing the breath from your lungs, but it felt amazing, like the final plunge into the thrill that had been building all night.
When you surfaced, $D_name was right there, treading water beside you. $D_HisHer eyes lingered for just a second longer than usual, their shade looking a tad bit darker than before. $D_HeShe was still smiling, though—it was that same confident, cocky grin, but a little more hungrier around the edges.
“Show-off,” $D_heshe muttered, but the tone of it was impressed.
You swam a circle around $D_himher, still grinning as you splashed water in $D_hisher direction. “You love it.”
$D_HeShe didn’t deny it, just laughed, shaking $D_hisher head as water dripped down $D_hisher face. And for a moment, there was nothing but the two of you, suspended in the cool water, the world outside disappearing in the dark.
<<button "Next" "DH1 POV">><</button>>
/*[[DH1 POV]]*/<<audio "DH1swimming" loop volume 0 fadein>><em><strong><u>$D_name’s POV</u></strong></em>
$D_name kept a slow pace, occasionally glancing at $MC_firstname swimming effortlessly beside $D_himher, cutting through the water with an ease that made something twist uncomfortably in $D_hisher chest. Even with $hisher hair wet, clinging to $hisher forehead, and the pool lights reflecting in $hisher eyes, there was something about $himher that made $D_hisher heart race in ways $D_heshe didn't want to acknowledge.
“You know,” $D_heshe finally said, $D_hisher voice breaking through the quiet night, “I’m definitely the better swimmer.”
$MC_firstname laughed, floating on $hisher back, the light catching the curve of $hisher jaw as $heshe moved effortlessly. “Oh, really?”
“Really,” $D_heshe replied, $D_hisher voice softer than intended. “I’ve got form, speed, stamina. I’m practically made for the water.”
$MC_firstname chuckled, the sound echoing softly through the still air.
“You’re delusional,” $heshe teased, flicking water toward $D_name. “I’m the better swimmer.”
“Is that so?” $D_name arched a brow, mischief returning to $D_hisher voice. “There’s only one way to settle this. Let’s see who can hold their breath the longest.”
$MC_firstname narrowed $hisher eyes, a smile tugging at $hisher lips. “You’re on.”
$D_name laughed, treading water as $D_heshe held up a hand. “Alright, no cheating.”
“I don’t need to cheat to win,” $MC_firstname shot back confidently.
“We’ll see. On three,” $D_name said, holding up a hand. “One... two... three...”
Together, they plunged beneath the surface, and everything went still.
<<button "Next" "DH1 8">><</button>>/*[[DH1 8]]*/For the first few seconds, $D_name focused on holding $D_hisher breath, feeling the tension build in $D_hisher chest. But then $D_heshe couldn’t help $D_himself. $D_HeShe glanced at $MC_firstname.
The moment they were submerged, the outside world faded away, replaced by the muffled quiet of the pool. The only sounds were the distant hum of the underwater lights and the rhythm of their own heartbeats. $D_name could feel $MC_firstname close by, the warmth of $hisher body radiating through the water, but $D_heshe tried to keep $D_hisher focus steady, determined to win this silly challenge.
But $D_hisher gaze lingered longer than $D_heshe intended. There was something about $MC_firstname that always got to him—always knocked $D_himher off balance—from the moment they’d met. And in that moment, with $himher floating there, it was like the rest of the world didn’t exist.
$D_name had to fight the smile threatening to pull at $D_hisher lips. It was no good if $D_heshe lost, but how was $D_heshe supposed to focus when $MC_firstname looked like that?
A new thought crossed $D_hisher mind, and before $D_heshe could second-guess it, $D_heshe reached out, fingers brushing lightly against $MC_firstname's side. Then, $D_heshe tickled $himher.
The reaction was immediate. $MC_firstname jerked, eyes snapping open in surprise as $heshe squirmed, and within seconds, $heshe shot up out of the water, breaking the surface with a gasp, coughing and laughing all at once.
“$D_name!” $heshe sputtered, splashing the perpetrator as $D_heshe resurfaced right after $himher with a boisterous laugh. “That was so cheap!”
$D_name feigned innocence, raising his hands. “What? I just... encouraged you to breathe faster.”
“You cheated,” $MC_firstname accused, still catching $hisher breath as $heshe wiped water from $hisher face. “You were afraid of losing, so you tickled me.”
$D_name gasped dramatically, clutching at $D_hisher chest. “Me? Afraid of losing? Never.”
“Uh huh,” $MC_firstname said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Sure, and I’m the Queen of England.”
The gray-eyed rockstar laughed. $D_HeShe swam closer, water lapping gently at $D_hisher shoulders. “Alright, alright. No tickles this time. I’ll give you a fair shot.”
$MC_firstname gave $D_himher a skeptical look. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“I’m serious,” $D_name replied. “Come on, one more round. No tricks, no cheats. You can trust me.”
$MC_firstname arched an eyebrow but finally relented with a soft sigh. “Fine. But if you pull anything again, I’m calling it.”
“Scout’s honor.” $D_name held up two fingers, smirking. “On three again?”
$MC_firstname nodded, positioning $himself in front of $D_name properly once more. “On three.”
<div id="centered">[[Once more, they both plunged beneath the surface.|DH1 9]]</div>This time, there were no tickles, no distractions. Just $MC_firstname and $D_name, both floating in the soft, blue-lit underwater world. For a few seconds, it felt like everything slowed down. The cold water surrounded them, and the soft hum of the lights echoed in their ears.
$D_name’s eyes softened, almost glazed over as they roamed across $MC_firstname’s face, $hisher features illuminated by the pool’s gentle glow. The way $hisher hair floated around $himher like a halo, the way the light kissed $hisher skin, making $himher look like some kind of underwater siren—it was enough to make $D_hisher heart skip several beats. There was something unreal about $MC_firstname in that moment, something that made $D_hisher chest ache, and $D_heshe wasn’t sure if it was the lack of oxygen or the way $heshe made $D_name feel that was causing the dizziness.
$D_name’s thoughts raced. $D_HeShe hadn’t meant for this to happen, hadn’t meant to get so caught up in how ethereal $MC_firstname looked, but $D_heshe couldn’t help it. The way the moonlight mixed with the pool lights, casting an otherworldly glow over $hisher features—it made it hard to breathe in a different way. $D_HisHer heart pounded in $D_hisher chest, and it wasn’t just because of the lack of air.
It hit $D_himher all at once, how breathtaking $heshe <<were>>. And it wasn’t just how $heshe looked, but the way $heshe made $D_name feel—like the world was less boring, less predictable, when $heshe <<were>> around. $MC_firstname was a force, and right now, floating in the quiet water, $heshe seemed untouchable, almost too perfect for this world.
How had this happened? How had $D_heshe ended up so lost in the moment, so caught up in how impossibly $MC_handsome $MC_firstname looked right now? $D_HeShe hadn’t meant for it to go like this. They’d just been messing around, swimming, laughing, maybe flirting a little, but nothing serious—nothing that had prepared $D_name for this feeling that was now blooming painfully in $D_hisher chest.
*<<link 'To $D_name’s pleasant surprise, $MC_firstname leaned in and pressed $hisher lips against $D_hisher. [♥︎]' "DH1 10.1">><<set $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100); $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100); $D_romance to $D_romance+1>><</link>>/*[[DH1 10.1]]*/
*<<link 'Without fully being aware of $D_hisher movements, $D_name leaned in to press $D_hisher lips against $hishers. [♥︎]' "DH1 10.2">><<set $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100); $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100); $D_romance to $D_romance+1>><</link>>/*[[DH1 10.2]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Bold<</notify>>$D_name floated there, lost in the moment, the cool water keeping $D_hisher body light while the sight of $MC_firstname kept $D_hisher thoughts anything but. $D_HeShe could feel $D_hisher heartbeat quicken, the blood rushing through $D_hisher veins loud in $D_hisher ears. The silence around them, save for the gentle sloshing of the water, only made it more pronounced.
And then, $D_heshe saw it—a subtle shift in $MC_firstname’s expression. The way $hisher lips parted, like $heshe was considering something… or maybe just feeling the same pull that $D_heshe felt. The realization hit $D_himher like a wave—$heshe <<were>> leaning in.
$D_name’s heart practically stopped as $MC_firstname moved closer, the distance between them shrinking to almost nothing.
It was slow, almost unnoticeable at first—just the tiniest movement of $hisher lips toward $D_name’s, the soft brush of $MC_firstname’s breath against $D_hisher skin under the water. And then, before $D_name had time to process it, $hisher mouth was on $D_hisher, and it felt like the world shattered in the softest way possible.
The kiss was unexpected, gentle but urgent, like $MC_firstname had been thinking about it for just as long as $D_name had. It wasn’t the kind of kiss that made the water around them disappear—it was the opposite. The water magnified everything, made the sensation of their lips pressing together more vivid, more intense. $D_name could feel every slight shift, the way $MC_firstname moved against $D_himher, the warmth of $hisher mouth even in the cold water.
$D_name didn’t move at first, too stunned to react. The surprise of it washed over $D_himher like another wave, leaving $D_himher suspended, unsure of what to do, unsure if this was even real. But then $MC_firstname kissed $D_himher harder, and it was like everything fell into place. $D_name leaned into it, pressing back with a hunger $D_heshe hadn’t expected to feel.
The world went quiet. The only thing that mattered was the pressure of $MC_firstname’s lips against $D_hisher, the way $D_hisher pulse hammered in $D_hisher throat, so loud it almost drowned out the silence of the pool. $D_HisHer hands found $MC_firstname’s face, cupping $hisher cheeks, feeling the warmth of $hisher skin under $D_hisher fingertips, and suddenly $D_heshe didn’t care that $D_heshe was underwater, didn’t care that $D_hisher lungs were burning from lack of oxygen.
It was worth it.
To feel $MC_firstname like this, to have $hisher mouth on $D_name’s kissing like it was the only thing that mattered—it was enough to make $D_himher forget about the rest of the world. $D_name’s head spun, not from the lack of air, but from the way $MC_firstname made $D_himher feel. Like nothing else existed, like the space between them had always been meant to disappear.
As $D_name and $MC_firstname emerged from the water, their lips still tangled, their bodies pressed together, it felt like there was no need for air—like the kiss itself was enough to keep them afloat. The cool night air hit their wet skin, but neither noticed. $D_name's fingers trailed lightly along $MC_firstname's back, as if the connection between them might disappear if they weren’t holding onto it.
There was something feverish in the way they kissed now, no longer tentative or uncertain. The weight of everything they hadn’t said was pouring into each kiss, pulling them deeper into each other. $D_name didn’t care about anything outside of this moment—the feel of $MC_firstname’s mouth on $D_hisher, the rhythm of their bodies moving together as if they were still submerged in the water.
But then, from somewhere far away, there was a flicker of light.
At first, $D_name didn’t register it. It was just one more thing in the periphery, like the stars or the soft ripple of the water. But the light grew brighter, more insistent, until it cut through the haze of their kiss.
$MC_firstname was the first to pull back, blinking against the sudden intrusion of light. Their lips were still inches apart, both of them panting softly, their foreheads resting against each other as they tried to catch their breath. $D_name could see every detail now: the way the moonlight danced across $MC_firstname’s wet skin, how $hisher pretty lashes clung together in delicate clumps from the water.
<div id="centered"><<link '“What the hell…” $MC_firstname muttered, blinking against the glare.' "DH1 11">><</link>></div>/*[[DH1 11]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Shy<</notify>>Before $D_name could even register what $D_heshe was doing, $D_hisher lips met $MC_firstname’s. It was instinctual, like something had taken over $D_name’s senses, guiding $D_himher toward $MC_firstname without permission. One second $D_heshe was watching $himher like some dream, and the next, $D_hisher mouth was on $hishers, and everything just… made sense.
The first touch was cautious, tentative—almost like $D_name was afraid of breaking whatever spell had been cast between them. But as soon as $D_heshe felt the softness of $MC_firstname’s lips, something in $D_himher gave way. $D_HisHer hands found $hisher arms, sliding up $hisher shoulders to cup $hisher face, the need to keep $himher close overriding everything else. $D_HeShe kissed $himher deeper, letting the sensation of $hisher lips against $D_hisher consume $D_himher entirely.
The water swirled around them, forgotten, and $D_name could feel the slight resistance of the liquid between them, slowing their movements just enough to make it feel languid, deliberate. Every touch, every shift of $MC_firstname’s body against $D_hisher, was magnified by the water, making it impossible to think about anything other than how good it felt to have $MC_firstname here, to have $hisher lips on $D_hisher.
There was no urgency, no rush to get anywhere. Just the slow, intoxicating press of their bodies in the water, the steady pulse of $D_name’s heartbeat as it synced with $MC_firstname’s, the cool silence of the pool wrapping around them like a cocoon. $D_name couldn’t remember the last time $D_heshe felt so lost, so completely and utterly consumed by someone else.
It was worth it.
To feel $MC_firstname like this, to have $hisher mouth on $D_name’s kissing like it was the only thing that mattered—it was enough to make $D_himher forget about the rest of the world. $D_name’s head spun, not from the lack of air, but from the way $MC_firstname made $D_himher feel. Like nothing else existed, like the space between them had always been meant to disappear.
As $D_name and $MC_firstname emerged from the water, their lips still tangled, their bodies pressed together, it felt like there was no need for air—like the kiss itself was enough to keep them afloat. The cool night air hit their wet skin, but neither noticed. $D_name's fingers trailed lightly along $MC_firstname's back, as if the connection between them might disappear if they weren’t holding onto it.
There was something feverish in the way they kissed now, no longer tentative or uncertain. The weight of everything they hadn’t said was pouring into each kiss, pulling them deeper into each other. $D_name didn’t care about anything outside of this moment—the feel of $MC_firstname’s mouth on $D_hisher, the rhythm of their bodies moving together as if they were still submerged in the water.
But then, from somewhere far away, there was a flicker of light.
At first, $D_name didn’t register it. It was just one more thing in the periphery, like the stars or the soft ripple of the water. But the light grew brighter, more insistent, until it cut through the haze of their kiss.
$MC_firstname was the first to pull back, blinking against the sudden intrusion of light. Their lips were still inches apart, both of them panting softly, their foreheads resting against each other as they tried to catch their breath. $D_name could see every detail now: the way the moonlight danced across $MC_firstname’s wet skin, how $hisher pretty lashes clung together in delicate clumps from the water.
<div id="centered"><<link '“What the hell…” $MC_firstname muttered, blinking against the glare.' "DH1 11">><</link>></div>/*[[DH1 11]]*/When they finally turned toward the light, they found themselves staring at a small group of tweens, maybe 11 or 12 years old, holding flashlights and looking at them with wide eyes. They stood there on the side of the pool, towels slung over their shoulders, goggles perched on their heads, all looking like they’d just stumbled into the most entertaining spectacle of their young lives. One of the kids stepped forward, flashlight still trained on $D_name and $MC_firstname, squinting as if trying to make sense of the scene before him.
“Who the hell are you?” the kid asked, voice cracking in that way only pre-teens can manage. His friends snickered behind him, one of them elbowing another in the ribs as a chorus of giggles rippled through the group of tweens.
$MC_firstname froze, momentarily dumbstruck, and then glanced at $D_name, who was clearly fighting the urge to laugh. Their clothes were still strewn across the pool deck, discarded in the heat of the moment, and now they were standing in front of a bunch of nosy kids from the apartment complex, soaking wet, half-dressed, and completely busted.
$D_name caught $MC_firstname's eye, and in that single shared look, the absurdity of the situation hit them both at the same time. It was impossible to hold back the laughter.
Without a word, they scrambled out of the pool, still laughing and tripping over themselves as they hurried to grab their clothes. $MC_firstname pulled on $hisher clothes inside out, not even noticing in the rush, and $D_name was half-hopping into $D_hisher jeans, $D_hisher hair sticking to $D_hisher forehead as $D_heshe tried to pull everything together. The kids, meanwhile, watched in stunned silence, their flashlights bobbing up and down as they tried to process the scene unfolding in front of them.
“Dude, seriously, who are you?” one of the other kids asked, her voice incredulous.
But $D_name wasn’t sticking around to answer.
<<if $D_gender is "male">>“Sorry, kids,” he called out with a wide grin, as he tugged his leather jacket on and flashed her a smile.<<else>>“Sorry, kids,” she called out with a wide grin, as she tugged her pink hoodie on and flashed her a smile.<</if>>
“Hey! You’re not allowed to—” the girl from before started, but both the university students had bolted.
$D_name grabbed one of the bicycles they’d left outside, and in one smooth motion, swung a leg over the seat, still trying to button $D_hisher jeans. $MC_firstname followed suit, $hisher laughter bubbling up again as $heshe adjusted the handlebars. It felt like they were kids themselves, caught in some midnight prank.
“Let’s go before they call the cops,” $MC_firstname said breathlessly, as $D_name fumbled with the bike pedals, almost missing them in $D_hisher rush to get moving.
“Yeah, no more explaining to the little security guards behind us how we certainly did not just break into their apartment’s public pool,” $D_name replied, shaking $D_hisher head, still grinning ear to ear.
As both of them started pedaling, laughter filled the night air, the sound echoing off the empty streets around them. The wind whipped through their wet hair, cool against their flushed skin, but it only added to the wild, giddy energy of their escape. $D_name threw one last glance over $D_hisher shoulder at the kids, who were still standing there in disbelief and awe, flashlights aimed after them like some kind of makeshift search party.
“<em>Pa, copii</em>!” $D_name hollered dramatically in Romanian, voice carrying across the pool deck as $D_heshe leaned into the pedals. “Enjoy your swim!”
They rounded the corner, leaving the bewildered kids behind, and suddenly the world opened up in front of them, wide and thrilling and free. The night stretched out, dark and full of possibilities, and with every pump of the pedals, the tension that had been building between them seemed to dissolve into the rush of the ride.
$MC_firstname rode beside $D_himher, still laughing, the sound light and infectious. The street lights flickered above them as they cycled toward Columbus Avenue, the city beginning to blur as they picked up speed. The rhythmic hum of the bike tires on the pavement felt almost hypnotic, the night breeze cool and fresh against their skin.
“Maybe we should stop doing this,” $MC_firstname said, $hisher voice breathless but still full of that teasing spark. “One time’s enough.”
$D_name laughed. “Doing what? Getting caught making out in swimming pools, or stealing bicycles for our rendezvous?”
“All of the above,” $MC_firstname replied, shooting $D_himher a grin. “Though I have to admit, the getaway was kind of fun.”
$D_name felt $D_hisher heart swell, the joy of the moment bubbling over in a way that felt almost too big for $D_hisher chest. This—this was what it felt like to be alive. To be reckless and young, with nothing but the open road in front of $D_himher and the cool, moonlit night surrounding $D_himher. $D_HeShe looked over at $MC_firstname, $hisher smile wide, eyes shining in the dark, and $D_name felt that same electric pull as before. The thrill of it all, the freedom of not knowing what came next but being okay with it, as long as $D_heshe was with $MC_firstname.
<<button "Next" "DH1 12">><</button>>/*[[DH1 12]]*/<<audio "DH1swimming" fadeoverto 15 0>>The bicycles rattled slightly as you both wheeled them back to the rack, the hum of the city night swirling around you. You glanced at $D_name, watching $D_himher push the bike alongside $D_hisher lazy stride, and a warm glow lit up $D_hisher face. The streetlights above threw golden light down, and though the two of you walked in comfortable silence, there was a soft undercurrent to it all—a kind of gentle excitement that buzzed just beneath the surface.
As your hands brushed together briefly, you felt a jolt run up your arm. It was the smallest touch, barely there, but it felt electric. $D_name didn’t say anything, but you could see a wide grin spreading across $D_hisher face. You didn’t mention it either, didn’t have to. The air between you felt lighter, and without realizing it, you found yourself grinning too. Each step you took back toward the party felt like something unspoken was growing between the two of you, something easy and natural.
$D_HeShe turned $D_hisher head to look at you, eyes still bright with that mischievous smile.
“You know, we make a pretty good team,” $D_heshe said casually, the grin not leaving $D_hisher face. “I mean, considering we just stole bikes for the night.”
You chuckled, the sound blending into the night as the two of you left the bikes at the rack and started walking back toward the party.
“Borrowed,” you corrected. “We borrowed them.”
“Sure,” $D_name teased, laughing under $D_hisher breath. “Borrowed. Same difference.”
You were both still chuckling when the sharp, unmistakable sound of gunshots cut through the night air. It was loud and close—too close. Your heart skipped, the laughter dying in your throat instantly.
“Was that—?” you began, but you didn’t even get to finish the sentence before $D_name’s expression shifted in an instant.
$D_HisHer smile disappeared, eyes widening with shock, then panic. $D_HeShe turned to you, voice urgent. “Go back to the campus, I need to check on Senne and Saeko.”
Without another word, $D_heshe turned and bolted in the direction of the party, the once-relaxed ease replaced by a frantic urgency.
“$D_name!” you shouted, chasing after $D_himher, your pulse already hammering in your ears. The night, once calm and filled with laughter, had turned scary in the blink of an eye.
As you neared the house, the scene was pure chaos. People were screaming, bodies colliding as they shoved past one another in a desperate attempt to escape. Red and blue lights from the police cruisers at the corner flashed against the backdrop of the night, casting a disorienting glow over everything. The distant wail of sirens grew louder, closing in fast.
You tried to push through the sea of people, but the flood of bodies surged around you, making it impossible to move forward without being jostled in every direction. You could see $D_name up ahead, weaving through the chaos with ease, but you struggled to keep up. $D_HeShe was fast—too fast—and every time you thought you were gaining on $D_himher, someone bumped into you, slowing you down.
“$D_name!” you shouted again, but your voice was swallowed up by the cacophony of shouting and blaring sirens. Panic clawed at your chest as the crowd surged again, pushing you backward. You could barely make out what was happening, everything a blur of moving bodies, the shrill sound of police sirens, and the deafening thrum of fear in the air.
Then, suddenly, a massive body collided with yours—hard. You were knocked off balance, your feet slipping out from under you as you crashed to the ground. The air was punched from your lungs, and for a moment, everything went black, pain blooming in your side where you hit the pavement.
You groaned, trying to push yourself up, but people kept rushing past, their feet thundering inches from your face as you struggled to get back to your feet. The panic around you was suffocating. You could barely breathe, the weight of bodies pressing in from all sides as you scrambled to stand. Your heart pounded furiously in your chest, each beat sounding louder than the next.
You tried to call out again, but the words wouldn’t come. Your throat felt tight, and all you could do was gasp for air, your hands shaking as you pushed yourself onto your knees. Your vision swam, and for a terrifying second, you thought you might pass out.
Where was $D_name? You couldn’t see $D_himher anywhere in the mass of people. He had disappeared into the chaos, and now, you were left alone, lost in the tidal wave of panicked partygoers.
You forced yourself to move, to fight your way through the crowd, but every step felt like you were being pulled under, like the panic and fear of everyone around you was pressing in tighter and tighter, squeezing the breath from your lungs. Your mind raced, trying to focus, to think clearly despite the overwhelming terror surging through you.
The crowd was thinning out as more people made it to the street, but the tension in the air was still thick, still charged with fear. Sirens wailed closer, their shrill screams cutting through the night. You could hear police shouting orders, their voices sharp and commanding, but it all sounded distant, like it was happening in a different world.
<<button "Next" "Ch 3 Ending 3">><</button>>/*[[Ch 3 Ending 3]]*/You eventually break away from $C_name after a while. $C_HeShe had muttered something about having enough ‘fun’ for the night before giving you a small nod of goodbye and walking away to $C_hisher room.
You looked around for a bit and, deciding that you needed some fresh air, you walked out of the residential hall to take a round around campus.
<<button "Next Chapter" "Ch 4.1.1">><<script>>
Dialog.setup("Content Warnings");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Ch 4 CW").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.1.1]]*/<<set $chapter to "Chapter Four">><h1>ཫ CHAPTER FOUR ཀ</h1>
!!𓆙 sicut supra, ita infra 𓆙
But as you approached the Hall, the sound of raised voices cut through the air, breaking the uneasy quiet. You hesitated, listening.
“Where is $A_heshe?!” The voice was rough, strangled with frustration. Angry, yes, but also desperate.
It was coming from the side of the building, near one of the hidden alcoves. Instinct told you to ignore it, to keep walking for the sake of your own sanity. This was university, after all, and you should probably avoid getting involved in any personal drama. But something about the tension in the voice drew you in, pulling you toward the source of the commotion.
Turning the corner, you froze.
$M_name was backed into the stone wall, $M_hisher normally poised expression shattered into something small and sad, $M_hisher eyes downcast, shoulders hunched. Standing before $M_himher was a guy with platinum blonde hair, tall and thin, and with pale skin that seemed to be sickly and almost transparent. He was also gesticulating wildly, his voice a mix of anger and disbelief.
“You know where $A_heshe is,” he hissed, as though the words were venomous. “Don’t you dare stand there and act like you don’t. I <em>know</em> you do.”
$M_name said nothing. $M_HisHer lips parted as if $M_heshe might respond, but no words came. Instead, $M_heshe just looked… resigned. Like $M_heshe was used to this. Like $M_heshe had been through this particular hell too many times to fight back anymore.
The blonde guy stepped closer, his hands trembling at his sides, clenched into fists. “Please, Max, I <em>need</em> to know. I know something terrible happened to $A_himher. I just know it.”
$M_name still kept $M_hisher mouth shut. $M_HeShe barely blinked, $M_hisher face devoid of any of the sharp emotions. There was a sadness there, a weight, as if $M_heshe carried some unbearable pressure $M_heshe had no intention of sharing. Or maybe $M_heshe didn’t have the conscience to do so.
You felt a cold knot of unease tighten in your stomach. This wasn’t just some petty argument. Whatever was happening here, it ran deeper than you had anticipated, and you were an outsider, an unintended witness to a conversation not meant for your ears.
The blonde guy’s hands rose as if to grab $M_name by the collar, but he stopped short, his fingers trembling just inches from $M_himher. “Did you meet Elena yet?”
$M_name’s expression finally flickered, a brief crack in $M_hisher otherwise stoic demeanor. A wince. $M_HeShe pressed $M_hisher lips tightly together, shaking $M_hisher head ever so slightly.
“No,” $M_name admitted softly. “I… I couldn’t face her again after what happened.”
“Oh, that’s really convenient, isn’t it?” The blonde guy laughed in disbelief. You couldn’t see his face but you had a feeling he was looking at $M_name in disgust. “Running and hiding when your negligence catches up to you. Mark my words, Max, if anything happened t—”
This was the moment that you decided to shift your weight, and in the process, accidentally stepped on a fallen branch. The crack seemed to echo in the space, enough to make you flinch at the sound.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.1.2">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.1.2]]*/Death
Suicide
Gore
Body Horror
Sexual Harassment
Animal Cruelty
Substance Use
DruggingFiguring out that staying hidden was only going to raise more questions. You take a deep breath and walk out to face the pair at odds.
$M_name had startled like a skittish deer, wide-eyed, with surprise etched along the fine features of $M_hisher face. The blonde guy twisted toward you, his whole body drawn tight onto himself in a defensive position.
Both of their eyes landed on you and you felt your shoulders lift, a sheepish instinct. You gave them a little wave—a small, awkward raise of your fingers, as if to say, <em>Oops, didn’t mean to walk in on whatever was going on between you two. Please carry on</em>.
Not that they had any intention of ignoring you now.
$M_name’s expression collapsed further, eyes darting between you and the boy across from $M_himher. This was when you finally got a good look at the latter’s face.
His hair was nearly white, the color of moonlight hitting snow, as were his eyelashes and brows. It wasn't exactly platinum, like you had previously assumed. His skin also looked even more sickly pale than you’d have thought, as if it had been smeared with ashes and stretched too thin over his bones. But it was his eyes that shocked you the most.
They were violet. The color of bruised fruit and evening thunderclouds before the storm breaks. You had never come across eyes like those before, and for a moment you dubiously thought that the guy was wearing contacts. But why the fuck would he be wearing contacts of that unnatural of an eye color?
He stared at you with those strange eyes, not in anger, but he also didn’t look very happy to see you either.
“I—uh,” you began, but didn’t know where to end that sentence.
It was $M_name who saved you from looking like a nosy fool.
“$MC_firstname,” $M_heshe said, and you could tell $M_heshe was trying to school $M_hisher expression back into looking calm. “What are you doing here?”
You felt those violet eyes return to Max. “You know this $MC_guy?”
$M_name pursed $M_hisher lips and fixed you with a meaningful look. “I’m sure it wasn’t $hisher intention to listen in on us.”
The blonde guy huffed out a mocking laugh as he looked at you up and down. “I sincerely hope you’re not one of Max’s new friends. If you are, I’ll make sure to pray for you.”
You frowned at that. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“$M_name here has a very hard time keeping $M_hisher friends out of danger,” he simply said with a fake smile. “Thought you ought to know.”
Then, without warning, he spat out a bitter curse under his breath towards your RA before turning sharply on his heel, leaving the side of the building.
You hesitated for a moment before stepping closer to $M_name, your footsteps dubious as you approached. $M_HeShe didn’t look at you immediately, $M_hisher eyes still focused on the now-empty side of the alcove where the confrontation had just taken place.
“You heard all of that, didn’t you?" $M_heshe asked quietly, though it didn’t really sound like a question. More like $M_heshe already knew the answer.
*[[“You bet,” you said and accompanied that with ill-timed finger guns. Oh god.|Ch 4.1.3.1][$Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100)]]
*<<link '“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to spy on you or anything,” you said earnestly, your voice soft as you met $M_hisher gaze.' "Ch 4.1.3.2">><<set $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100); $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100); $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.1.3.2]]*/
*[[“I can… stay if you want to talk about it.” You weren’t sure what made you say that, but the offer felt right. [♥]|Ch 4.1.3.3][$Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100), $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100), $M_romance to $M_romance+1]]
*[[“I hope you know that ferret boy isn't going to stop me from being friends with you.” Or be something more, though you didn't say it out loud. [♥]|Ch 4.1.3.4][$Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100), $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $M_romance to $M_romance+1]]<<set $chapter to "Chapter Four">><h1>ཫ CHAPTER FOUR ཀ</h1>
!!𓆙 sicut supra, ita infra 𓆙
“Do we know each other?” you managed.
$W_HeShe didn’t answer that question either, choosing to just stand there and look at you. But it wasn’t in the way people glance at someone they’re curious about, or even the way someone stares when they’re trying to be polite but can’t quite hide their interest. No, $W_hisher gaze felt desperate, as if $W_heshe was memorizing you. Tracing every feature of your face with those impossibly blue eyes in the hopes that the details won’t be slipping through $W_hisher fingers the second $W_heshe blinked.
And suddenly your head started to ache.
A tight, low throb bloomed between your temples, as though your brain was clawing at the edges of itself, dredging through long-drowned thoughts. The ache was familiar, like a name on the tip of your tongue that you couldn’t taste properly.
You squinted at $W_himher, confused. Because you were certain, absolutely certain that you had never seen $W_himher before.
And yet…
$W_HisHer face carried something that brushed up against your memory with the lightest of touches. The dawning recognition in $W_hisher haggard expression, a crease in $W_hisher brow, the downturned sides of $W_hisher lips, the deep set shape of $W_hisher eyes, the chapped but still delicate surface of $W_hisher palm. Even the way $W_hisher fingers curled slightly when $W_heshe wasn’t using them. It all felt like déjà vu that had taken root somewhere in you.
You had no name for $W_himher. No context. No memory. Yet this stranger felt more familiar to you than yourself these days.
You weren’t sure which of you had stopped breathing first.
<div id="centered">[[Eight years ago…|Ch 4.3]]</div><<notify 5s>>+ Laidback, + Sarcastic<</notify>>You could’ve said a thousand things. All of them wrong, knowing how you were. But instead, you shot your fingers into a clumsy gun pose.
Even the words fell out like someone had shaken a Magic 8-Ball of useless phrases and let the worst one float to the surface. It didn’t help that your voice cracked halfway through like a breaking radio signal.
$M_name blinked at you, startled out of whatever cavern of thoughts $M_heshe had sunk into. For a moment, you thought maybe $M_heshe’d cracked a smile. Although you probably imagined it to save yourself the embarrassment of the ensuing awkwardness.
“You’ve once again picked the worst possible times to be charming,” $M_heshe murmured.
$M_name thought you were charming. <em>That isn’t too bad</em>, you thought with a relieved grin.
“Yeah, I know,” you said. “I consider it a skill.”
$M_HeShe looked down, shoulders still tense, but something in $M_himher had eased just slightly. Like a bowstring after the arrow’s already flown.
For a while, $M_name looked to be contemplating something while glancing your way tentatively. “I was on my way to a certain spot. I don’t… usually invite people there. But I wouldn’t be opposed to your company tonight.”
You looked at $M_himher with a raised eyebrow, honestly not expecting that.
*[[“Yes, of course. Count me in.” [♡]|M Heart Event 1][$M_romance to $M_romance +3]]
*[[“Raincheck? I’m feeling a bit too tired from everything that happened today.”|Ch 4.1.4]]<<notify 5s>>+ Friendly, + Genuine<</notify>>Your voice came out quiet, your hands unconsciously wringing themselves at your sides.
You met $M_hisher gaze, and $M_heshe didn’t look away. Which surprised you, honestly. You’d expected $M_himher to shut down again, the way people do when they’re cornered. But $M_name didn’t seem very keen on hiding again. Not this time.
“It’s fine,” $M_heshe said, though there was a hollowness to $M_hisher tone. “Not like I can control what people overhear.”
You tried to find the right words, something that would break through the layers of tension and make it clear you weren’t just a nosy bystander.
“I really wasn’t trying to eavesdrop,” you said, the apology in your tone more genuine than you expected. “I just... I heard voices, and it sounded—”
“Bad?” $M_heshe interjected with a dry, humorless chuckle, raising an eyebrow. “I suppose it was.”
“I’m sorry,” you repeated yourself, not sure what else to offer. The apology felt inadequate, but you had nothing else to give.
$M_name nodded. “I know. It’s okay.”
For a while, $M_name looked to be contemplating something while glancing your way tentatively. “I was on my way to a certain spot. I don’t… usually invite people there. But I wouldn’t be opposed to your company tonight.”
You looked at $M_himher with a raised eyebrow, honestly not expecting that.
*[[“Yes, of course. Count me in.” [♡]|M Heart Event 1][$M_romance to $M_romance +3]]
*[[“Raincheck? I’m feeling a bit too tired from everything that happened today.”|Ch 4.1.4]]<<notify 5s>>+ Shy, + Friendly<</notify>>You weren’t the kind of person who happily volunteered to deal with emotional catastrophes and cracked-open hearts. Besides, $M_name had always seemed untouchable to you in the way stoic, perfect people at the edge of your orbit often were.
But something about how $M_heshe looked right now—like a painting someone had tried to scrub clean with sandpaper—made you want to be there for $M_himher. It made you feel like if you helped lift $M_himher out of $M_hisher dour mood, your heart would rest easy again.
You didn’t know where it came from. The offer felt like a little candle cupped between your hands, flickering and absurd in the wind. But you meant it. With every stupid, stammering part of you.
$M_name turned to you slowly, eyes softening slightly like you’d just offered $M_himher something $M_heshe hadn’t dared imagine anyone would. $M_HeShe didn’t feel deserving of it, but $M_heshe needed it all the same.
“And may I ask why?”
You swallowed. “Because… nobody deserves to be left alone to drown in their grief.”
$M_HeShe didn’t say anything to that. But $M_heshe didn’t walk away either, so you counted that as a positive affirmation.
For a while, $M_name looked to be contemplating something while glancing your way tentatively. “I was on my way to a certain spot. I don’t… usually invite people there. But I wouldn’t be opposed to your company tonight.”
You looked at $M_himher with a raised eyebrow, honestly not expecting that.
*[[“Yes, of course. Count me in.” [♡]|M Heart Event 1][$M_romance to $M_romance +3]]
*[[“Raincheck? I’m feeling a bit too tired from everything that happened today.”|Ch 4.1.4]]<<notify 5s>>+ Bold, + Sarcastic<</notify>>You squared your shoulders, stepped closer—not enough to corner $M_himher, but enough that $M_heshe could feel your presence solidly beside $M_himher, like a hand held out.
$M_name’s brow twitched upward. “Ferret boy?”
“Did you see him? Pale. Twitchy. Foaming at the mouth.” You shrugged. “Definitely a ferret.”
A startled breath passed over $M_hisher face. It might have been a laugh, buried too deep to surface properly.
“I mean it though,” you added, quieter now. “Whatever that was? It’s not going to scare me off. If that’s what you’re worried about.”
$M_HeShe looked at you, long and searching, as if $M_heshe didn’t quite know what to make of you yet.
There were a lot of things you didn’t say. Mostly because you didn’t know how to say them without sounding like a deranged stalker. That you’d been watching $M_himher since you’d first laid your eyes on $M_hisher perfect face and perfect posture. That you felt a weird amount of desolation seeing $M_himher so sad, especially when $M_heshe was trying to act like $M_heshe wasn’t.
It made no sense for you to feel this way about someone you barely knew. But the heart wants what it wants, you suppose.
$M_name didn’t say anything for a long moment. Then, finally, $M_hisher voice came out like autumn wind brushing leaves off stone. “I don’t think you should <em>want</em> to be friends with me.”
“Too late,” you said. “You can pry the privileges of being friends with an RA from my cold, dead fingers.”
At that, $M_heshe simply snorted and looked away. That wasn’t a full-on laugh, but you counted that as a success either way.
For a while, $M_name looked to be contemplating something while glancing your way tentatively. “I was on my way to a certain spot. I don’t… usually invite people there. But I wouldn’t be opposed to your company tonight.”
You looked at $M_himher with a raised eyebrow, honestly not expecting that.
*[[“Yes, of course. Count me in.” [♡]|M Heart Event 1][$M_romance to $M_romance +3]]
*[[“Raincheck? I’m feeling a bit too tired from everything that happened today.”|Ch 4.1.4]]<<audio "MH1" loop play>>$M_name nodded at your assent. “Very well. Follow me.”
You fell into step beside $M_himher as $M_heshe led you through the winding paths of the campus. It was quieter now, the usual bustle of students fading into the background as the night deepened. There was something almost surreal about it, the way the campus felt like a world unto itself after dark.
Neither of you spoke as $M_heshe guided you to a part of the campus you’d never noticed before. A hidden nook, tucked away between two ivy-covered buildings. It was quiet here, far enough from the main walkways that the only sounds were the rustling of leaves and the faint murmur of distant voices. There was a bench, worn from years of use but still sturdy, nestled under the canopy of a sprawling oak tree.
“This is it,” $M_name said, gesturing toward the bench. $M_HeShe hesitated for a moment before sitting down, $M_hisher posture less rigid now, more relaxed in the quiet. You followed $M_hisher lead, sitting beside $M_himher.
“You come here a lot?” you asked, breaking the silence, though you kept your voice low to keep from disturbing the stillness.
$M_name nodded, $M_hisher gaze focused on something distant. “When I need to think. Or when I don’t want to be found.”
You nodded, understanding. There was something about this place that felt safe. A sanctuary, even if only for a moment.
You leaned back against the worn wood of the bench, the old thing creaking a little beneath your weight like it was clearing its throat before settling into silence. Above you, the branches of the oak twisted, leaves trembling gently in the hush of late evening. It was one of those moments where the world didn’t feel like it was in motion anymore, just suspended, a snow globe turned over and waiting to settle.
You glanced sideways, then back up at the canopy. The words came out without you quite meaning to say them. “I’m here if you want to talk about it.”
You didn’t want to sound pushy, so you made the offer take the shape of a paper crane $M_heshe could take or leave—if $M_heshe so wished—and left it on the bench between you two.
There was a pause before $M_name breathed in once, slow and quiet, like someone trying to find the bottom of something in their chest. Then $M_heshe shook $M_hisher head.
“Thank you,” $M_heshe said stiffly. “But not tonight.”
You nodded, accepting $M_hisher refusal, and let the silence bloom again between you. It was companionable, this silence. It was reminiscent of a cat curled up on the edge of a bed—not needing anything, just glad for the warmth.
Still, curiosity tugged at you gently, like the tide drawing your ankles forward.
“So, about that guy… what was his name again?” you asked.
$M_name’s eyes flicked toward you, then away again. For a moment, you weren’t sure $M_heshe’d quite heard you. Then $M_heshe exhaled out the answer. “Archibald Rosenthal II.”
You waited, in case $M_heshe had more to say. You half-expected an anecdote or the weirdo’s portfolio. Hell, maybe just the basic introduction. But none came except the name, like a stone dropped into water with no ripple after.
It didn’t completely satiate your curiosity, but that was all $M_heshe was going to offer. For now.
<<button "Next" "MH1 1">><</button>>
/*[[MH1 1]]*/You tried to smile, but it came out more weary than intended. The weight of the day was catching up with you, dragging down your thoughts.
$M_name nodded, not that $M_heshe seemed particularly surprised by your decision either. You shifted awkwardly, uncertain where to place your hands or your gaze.
“That blonde guy,” you ventured, trying to stitch a bit of the unraveling moment back together. “What’s his name?”
$M_name’s mouth tugged downward almost imperceptibly before $M_heshe replied. “Archibald Rosenthal II.”
That was all $M_heshe said. Just the name. It was clear that $M_heshe was neither elaborating about him or welcoming any questions.
You nodded, storing it away without knowing why.
$M_name turned to look at you for a moment longer, and you could tell $M_heshe was carefully choosing what to say next, deciding how to let the conversation end. In the end, $M_heshe opted for something neutral. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”
“Yeah,” you confirmed, giving a small wave as you turned to leave. “Tomorrow.”
Neither of you moved for a breath or two. Then you turned, feet finding the path back toward your dorm.
<<button "Next" "W Meet 2.1">><</button>>
/*[[W Meet 2.1]]*/You stole a glance at $M_name, wondering if you should say something again. But your eyes start wandering over the living portrait that they were.
<<if $M_gender is "male">>Maxwell sat hunched slightly forward, his outline cast in pale halos from the streetlamps blinking to life one by one. The light caught strands of his jet-black hair, painting them in shades of cobalt where twilight clung to him. It fell in uneven layers that brushed his cheekbones, tugged gently by the wind.<<else>>Maxine sat with her spine straight but her shoulders slightly curled, her figure silhouetted by the glow of streetlights flickering on in succession. The light caught strands of her jet-black hair, painting them in shades of cobalt where twilight clung to her. It spilled past her shoulders in a cascade, sleek as poured ink, yet stirred slightly by the breeze.<</if>>
$M_HisHer eyes—umber, deep and dark as turned soil—seemed anchored somewhere far off. You wouldn’t say that $M_heshe was absent at the moment, but you could tell that $M_heshe was here as well as elsewhere; strung between two places at once. But when $M_heshe turned to you, that distant look flickered, thinned, and you glimpsed something gentler curled at the edges of $M_hisher gaze. It felt like warmth remembered in the middle of winter.
“I appreciate you,” $M_heshe murmured at last, “for accompanying me here.”
The smile you gave $M_himher is soft, involuntary as it made its way out from under your ribs without permission. And for the first time since the confrontation had ended, you felt like you’d managed to make a breakthrough with $M_name in a way that even you didn’t fully understand yet. Even if only a little.
<div id="centered">[[The walk back to Blackthorne is quiet...|MH1 POV]]</div><em><strong><u>$M_name’s POV</u></strong></em>
As they walked together in the quiet, winding paths of Yale’s campus, $M_name couldn't stop the slow, creeping sensation of a peculiarly sweet feeling settling in the spaces between them. It settled in slowly. Honey in tea. Smoke curling through a keyhole.
$M_HisHer gaze, against $M_hisher better judgment, kept slipping toward $MC_firstname. Toward the line of $hisher jaw, the glow of skin beneath the amber lamplight, the quiet poetry of someone who didn’t seem to know they were being watched.
$M_HeShe felt like $M_heshe could study $himher for a lifetime, carrying all $hisher dispositions and discretions in the webs of $M_hisher spidery palms, and still feel empty-handed. As if no matter how closely $M_heshe examined $himher, there would always be some facet that eluded $M_himher. But wasn’t $M_heshe good at maintaining distance, at pressing glass between $M_himself and others? So why here, beside $MC_firstname, had $M_heshe found that glass cracking, hairline fractures growing under the weight of every glance?
And if that wasn’t bad enough, it wasn’t just that $M_name wanted to understand $himher. It was that $M_heshe wanted to keep that understanding, bottle it, carry it in $M_hisher pockets and press it into $M_hisher palms until it left marks on $M_hisher skin.
It was all too much to feel for someone $M_heshe didn’t properly know yet. $M_HisHer mind wandered, trailing after that feeling, trying to place it.
To $M_name, in the glow of the streetlights, $MC_firstname was all dreamy lines and soft glances. It seemed like everything $heshe did had been pulled from the orbit of some internal gravity, from a planet that obeyed only $hisher rules. And the worst part was that $heshe <<were>> blissfully unaware of the phantasmagoria of emotions $heshe <<were>> making $M_name feel.
$M_HeShe felt it all in $M_hisher chest like a slow-growing bruise. More than anything, $M_heshe wanted to know what $MC_firstname was thinking.
No, it wasn’t just that. That would’ve been too simple. No, what $M_heshe wanted was to inhabit those thoughts, to press the tips of $M_hisher fingers against the contours of them like braille, to weave them into $M_hisher own bloodstream until $M_heshe could taste them when $M_heshe closed $M_hisher eyes.
$M_HisHer heart gave a small, traitorous pull at the thought.
How long had it been since $M_heshe let $M_himself want anything this much?
Too long, $M_heshe decided.
And when, exactly, had $M_heshe started hoping it wouldn’t go away?
<div id="centered"><<link 'That was a question, $M_heshe decided, $M_heshe didn’t have an answer to.' "MH1 3">><</link>></div>/*[[MH1 3]]*/When night fully falls, storm clouds eclipse the blister-yellow crescent moon and by this time it is near impossible to tell structure from shadow, and $M_name could feel the moment slipping, thinning like a dream just before waking. But there was a part of $M_himher—the part that was beginning to unravel in a way $M_heshe hadn’t prepared for—that wanted to linger.
$M_HeShe wanted $MC_firstname to speak. Not necessarily about anything important. It didn’t matter. $M_HeShe wanted to collect $hisher voice, keep it like a pressed flower between the pages of a book no one else would ever have the privilege of reading.
As they stepped up the stairs and reached Suite 7 where they would soon part ways, $M_name hesitated.
“You don’t have to carry all of this alone,” $MC_firstname said gently, but just quiet enough to cut straight through the noise in $M_hisher head.
The words were so gentle and clean, as if they hadn’t even tried to be profound. And yet they were. But that was the thing about $MC_firstname, wasn’t it? How effortlessly $heshe had disarmed $M_himher with just a few words.
“I… I shall keep that in mind," $M_name managed, even though it felt grievously insufficient. But it was all $M_heshe could manage under the strange pull of that moment.
It had been a long time since anyone’s company felt this easy. As though $M_heshe didn’t have to be a fortress to feel safe.
It was a fleeting thought, one $M_heshe wasn’t ready to acknowledge fully, but it lingered in the back of $M_hisher mind all the same.
<<if $M_gender is "male">><<if $MC_height is "towering">>As $MC_firstname looked down at $M_himher and offered a small smile before turning to go, $M_hisher eyes followed them, tracing $hisher retreating form, the soft sway of $hisher movements as $heshe started to disappear into the solace of $hisher suite.<<elseif $MC_height is "very tall">>As $MC_firstname looked straight at $M_himher and offered a small smile before turning to go, $M_hisher eyes followed them, tracing $hisher retreating form, the soft sway of $hisher movements as $heshe started to disappear into the solace of $hisher suite.<<else>>As $MC_firstname looked up and offered a small smile before turning to go, $M_hisher eyes followed $himher, tracing $hisher retreating form, the soft sway of $hisher movements as $heshe started to disappear into the solace of $hisher suite.<</if>><<else>><<if $MC_height is "towering" or $MC_height is "very tall">>As $MC_firstname looked down at $M_himher and offered a small smile before turning to go, $M_hisher eyes followed them, tracing $hisher retreating form, the soft sway of $hisher movements as $heshe started to disappear into the solace of $hisher suite.<<elseif $MC_height is "tall">>As $MC_firstname looked straight at $M_himher and offered a small smile before turning to go, $M_hisher eyes followed them, tracing $hisher retreating form, the soft sway of $hisher movements as $heshe started to disappear into the solace of $hisher suite.<<else>>As $MC_firstname looked up and offered a small smile before turning to go, $M_hisher eyes followed them, tracing $hisher retreating form, the soft sway of $hisher movements as $heshe started to disappear into the solace of $hisher suite.<</if>><</if>>
“Good night, $MC_firstname," $M_heshe called softly, before $heshe could get too far. It was an uncharacteristic urge, the need to say something, anything, to tether the moment before it slipped away entirely.
“Good night, $M_name," $MC_firstname replied, voice carrying tenderly in the still air, a promise without completely being one.
And then $heshe <<were>> gone with a soft click of the door that sounded louder than it should have in the hallway.
Alone, $M_name felt the stillness settle back over $M_himher. But it didn’t feel quite as stagnant now. Not as unbearable as it had been moments ago. $M_HeShe stood still, letting the silence breathe around $M_himher.
For now, it was enough to know that $MC_firstname had seen $M_himher, and had still decided to stay.
<<button "Next" "W Meet 1.1">><</button>>
/*[[W Meet 1.1]]*/<<audio "MH1" fadeoverto 15 0>>You were just reaching for your door when you realized your hand came up empty. There was no familiar jangle, or the feeling of cool metal grazing your palm.
“Damn it,” you muttered under your breath, patting yourself again like maybe you’d overlooked something obvious. But the sinking feeling only deepened. You’d misplaced your dorm room key.
Goddamnit. And you had <em>reminded</em> yourself over and over again to put the suite key and your dorm room key on the same damn keychain. You hadn’t done it, of course. It had felt like something for another day, a future-you problem.
Now it was very much a <em>present</em> problem for you. Procrastination truly was a bitch.
You sighed, dragged a hand down your face, and stepped back outside your suite and into the third-floor corridor. The hallway stretched out in both directions and the lights were duller than you’d have preferred. But considering that they looked like they hadn’t been replaced in a century, it was the best you had.
You began the walk again, your eyes scanning the floor, checking near the baseboards, corners, the uneven seam in the tile by the other suites’ doors. The silence wrapped tight around your focus, so much so that you didn’t even hear footsteps approaching until a voice broke through it.
*[[“Hello. Is this yours?” The voice was deep-pitched and had a nervous little tremble.|W Meet 1.2][$W_name to "Wilhelm", $W_middle to "Johann", $W_nickname to "Billy", $W_Billy to "Billy", $W_Will to "Will", $W_gender to "male", $W_person to "man", $W_guy to "guy", $W_boy to "boy", $W_son to "son", $W_nephew to "nephew", $W_Mr to "Mr", $W_HeShe to "He", $W_heshe to "he", $W_HimHer to "Him", $W_himher to "him", $W_HisHer to "His", $W_hisher to "his", $W_HisHers to "His", $W_hishers to "his", $W_Himself to "Himself", $W_himself to "himself"]]
*[[“Hello. Is this yours?” The voice was soft-pitched and had a nervous little tremble.|W Meet 1.2][$W_name to "Wilhelmine", $W_middle to "Johanna", $W_nickname to "Billie", $W_Billy to "Billie", $W_Will to "Mina", $W_gender to "female", $W_person to "woman", $W_guy to "girl", $W_boy to "girl", $W_son to "daughter", $W_nephew to "niece", $W_Mr to "Ms", $W_HeShe to "She", $W_heshe to "she", $W_HimHer to "Her", $W_himher to "her", $W_HisHer to "Her", $W_hisher to "her", $W_HisHers to "Hers", $W_hishers to "hers", $W_Himself to "Herself", $W_himself to "herself"]]The residential college had gone hushed for the night, making your every footstep feel too loud and the boards underneath you too creaky. You walked the familiar corridors on autopilot, tracing the worn path up to the third floor, past bulletin boards thick with new flyers that you don’t remember seeing before. Tonight, your Hall smelled like floor polish and old wood and somebody’s burnt popcorn from down the hall.
When you reached Suite 7, you paused. Keys clutched in your hand, two identical twins in the same metal coat, neither labeled.
You sighed, your thumb running over the grooves like the ridges might whisper which one was which. First try: no luck. Second try: still no. You muttered a curse under your breath, the way you might curse a pebble in your shoe, with an irritation too small to warrant real fury, but maddening all the same.
And then, in your peeved juggling act, both keys slipped from your grip, clattering against the carpeted hallway floor. You shut your eyes for a second and considered the merits of stomping your foot loudly. Just once to let the stupidity of the situation echo around you. But since you didn’t want disgruntled students poking their heads out to see what the hell you were doing, you instead crouched down and reached for the first key.
Before your fingers could reach the second, another hand brushed against yours.
You froze.
*[[Your head tilted up, and your gaze locked with a blonde guy.|W Meet 2.2][$W_name to "Wilhelm", $W_middle to "Johann", $W_nickname to "Billy", $W_Billy to "Billy", $W_Will to "Will", $W_gender to "male", $W_person to "man", $W_guy to "guy", $W_boy to "boy", $W_son to "son", $W_nephew to "nephew", $W_Mr to "Mr", $W_HeShe to "He", $W_heshe to "he", $W_HimHer to "Him", $W_himher to "him", $W_HisHer to "His", $W_hisher to "his", $W_HisHers to "His", $W_hishers to "his", $W_Himself to "Himself", $W_himself to "himself"]]
*[[Your head tilted up, and your gaze locked with a blonde girl.|W Meet 2.2][$W_name to "Wilhelmine", $W_middle to "Johanna", $W_nickname to "Billie", $W_Billy to "Billie", $W_Will to "Mina", $W_gender to "female", $W_person to "woman", $W_guy to "girl", $W_boy to "girl", $W_son to "daughter", $W_nephew to "niece", $W_Mr to "Ms", $W_HeShe to "She", $W_heshe to "she", $W_HimHer to "Her", $W_himher to "her", $W_HisHer to "Her", $W_hisher to "her", $W_HisHers to "Hers", $W_hishers to "hers", $W_Himself to "Herself", $W_himself to "herself"]]You turned, surprised, halfway through forming a response until your eyes caught on a stranger.
<<if $W_gender is "male">>The guy stood in the low light like he wasn’t quite sure of what to do in his skin. His dirty blonde hair—ear-length and shaggy, as if he'd run a hand through it too many times without thinking—framed a fair, slender face that made you experience a strange sense of déjà vu. His deep set pretty blue eyes glittered like a pair of sapphires. It was also making you get a slight headache and you tried not to rub your temples at the moment.<<else>>The girl stood in the low light like she wasn’t quite sure of what to do in her skin. Her dirty blonde hair—chest-length and rumpled, as if she'd run a hand through it too many times without thinking—framed a fair, slender face that made you experience a strange sense of déjà vu. Her deep set, pretty blue eyes glittered like a pair of sapphires. It was also making you get a slight headache, and you tried not to rub your temples at the moment.<</if>>
The smile that had been on $W_hisher lips when $W_heshe first caught your attention—lopsided, hesitant, polite—vanished the moment $W_heshe really looked at you. You saw it fall in real time, an expression of dawning recognition having yanked it from $W_hisher face.
$W_HisHer fingers—which looked chapped and delicate at the same time—curled around the key $W_heshe was holding, but $W_hisher eyes never left yours.
You weren’t sure which of you had stopped breathing first.
<div id="centered">[[Eight years ago…|Ch 4.3]]</div>
<<audio "WO1" loop play>><div id="centered"><strong><h1>July, 2016</h1></strong></div>
<em><strong><u>Sibylle’s POV</u></strong></em>
<em>Sibylle Kamińska (née Ostendorf) always wondered how a selfish and narcissistic being like her brother could ever have a $W_son like $W_name. It was cruel enough that he and his equally cold wife had decided to have a child without discussing the logistics of it all first, but to abandon the aforementioned child the second they started considering $W_himher an inconvenience to their too-perfect career? Handed $W_himher off to Tomasz and her with all the ceremony of passing along a potted plant they’d grown tired of watering?
God knew what possessed her parents to ever favor Ernst in the first place. But the time for those kinds of grievances was long gone.
Sibylle sighed and looked outside the living room window.
Summer in Providence was a quiet kind of cruel that year. The houses on their street all looked polished, like they'd been spit-shined by some bored god with a fondness for vinyl siding and freshly paved driveways.
All except theirs.
The Kamińskis’ leaned a little to the left, as if it had lost a fight with time and didn’t have the energy to get back up again. The paint was faded in random places. The porch sagged like an old dog’s belly. The gutters screamed every time it rained. But it managed to survive. And somehow, they did as well.
That year, $W_Will was ten and strange in the way kids raised on hard times and leftovers often are. Too quiet in the morning, too old at night.
$W_Will was Sibylle’s beloved $W_nephew, yes, but $W_heshe was also her rock and her silent accomplice in most things. $W_HeShe folded everyone’s laundry without being asked to. $W_HeShe remembered to buy $W_hisher uncle’s favorite coffee cream from the nearest Shell when the latter had forgotten to do so. $W_HeShe told $W_hisher aunt when she looked like hell before she left for her third shift, and the latter loved $W_himher all the more for saying it so plainly.
$W_name knew what color Sibylle painted her nails the week she got laid off from the local Target. The $W_boy knew which drawer she kept the meagre amount of emergency funds in, and that she always lit a candle before opening the past-due bills. $W_HeShe was her woolen blanket in January and her handheld fan in June, because her little $W_nephew never complained when she snapped, and God, did she snap a lot.
$W_HeShe was the only encouraging face amongst Sibylle’s immediate spectators, the only one who still clapped when she sang older Britney Spears songs in the kitchen. On her good days, $W_Will was her best friend. On her worst, $W_heshe was the only one left standing in the room with her.</em>
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.4">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.4]]*/$W_HisHer fingers—which looked chapped and delicate at the same time—hesitated above the key, just inches from yours. For a moment, all you could register was that flash of contact. Warm skin, brief and real.
Then your eyes rose to roam over $W_hisher face.
<<if $W_gender is "male">>The guy was crouched in the low light like he wasn’t quite sure of what to do in his skin. His dirty blonde hair—ear-length and shaggy, as if he'd run a hand through it too many times without thinking—framed a fair, slender face that made you experience a strange sense of déjà vu. His deep set, pretty blue eyes glittered like a pair of sapphires. It was also making you get a slight headache, and you tried not to rub your temples at the moment.<<else>>The girl was crouched in the low light like she wasn’t quite sure of what to do in her skin. Her dirty blonde hair—chest-length and rumpled, as if she'd run a hand through it too many times without thinking—framed a fair, slender face that made you experience a strange sense of déjà vu. Her deep set pretty blue eyes glittered like a pair of sapphires. It was also making you get a slight headache and you tried not to rub your temples at the moment.<</if>>
You weren’t sure which of you had stopped breathing first.
<div id="centered">[[Eight years ago…|Ch 4.3]]</div>
<em>$W_Will’s magnitude for love wasn’t something $W_heshe was taught, or asked for, or earned. It just existed in $W_himher like a lake that refused to freeze even when the world insisted on staying cold.
It wasn’t that $W_heshe was selfless. Sibylle, for all intents and purposes, understood this about her $W_nephew. This wasn’t a $W_boy with a martyr complex or some poetic vision of kindness. It was worse than that. It was just the way $W_heshe was built. $W_HeShe saw ‘need’ the way most people would see stray animals: without invitation, without instruction, and with no logical reason why it should matter. The rude cashiers at the convenience stores, the grumpy neighbor down the street, the horrid kids at school who sneered at $W_himher for being different; $W_name couldn’t bring $W_himself to hate any of them.
$W_HeShe gave too much, always, like $W_hisher heart had no lid and was forever spilling. It was more of a compulsion than plain generosity. The people around $W_himher only ever needed a drop, and $W_heshe gave them the ocean. They asked for pennies and $W_heshe handed them gold mines. And they—adults, $W_hisher classmates, the city itself—they took without noticing the offering, like people grabbing fistfuls of wildflowers from the side of the road, too busy to realize it wasn’t theirs to take.
Every so often, it made Sibylle angry. Angry at the world that had no room for kids like $W_name. At the indifference of the people who should’ve gathered $W_himher up in their arms and told $W_himher</em> “yes, you’re good, yes, we see you.” <em>At $W_hisher parents, distant and glinting satellites that were too far to feel a semblance of affection for their only child. At the neighbors with their bigoted mindsets who, more often than not, raised equally bigoted children.
And yet, $W_Will loved and $W_heshe forgave. $W_HeShe bent without breaking, this ridiculous, tender, infuriating child of hers. This $W_boy with too much soul for $W_hisher small bones, who would rather open $W_hisher arms than clench $W_hisher fists.
Sibylle knew $W_Will would never ask anyone to take care of the fruits that grew in the garden of $W_hisher heart. But didn’t $W_heshe deserve somebody who would?
With that thought, she closed her eyes and let herself fall asleep before her night shift as her $W_nephew curled $W_hisher arms tighter around $W_hisher aunt on the couch that could barely fit them both.</em>
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.5">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.5]]*/<em><strong><u>$W_name’s POV</u></strong></em>
<em>By the time $W_name woke up, $W_heshe could tell it wasn’t morning anymore. $W_HeShe’d fallen asleep on the couch waiting for $W_hisher aunt, $W_hisher scrawny legs hunched up together.
She didn’t stir when $W_name eased away, having a feeling that her arm was probably sore from $W_himher laying $W_hisher head on it for too long. The afternoon sun through the thin curtains had turned the living room the color of old lemon zests, and it pressed warm fingerprints onto the furniture, the carpet, and the little $W_boy.
$W_HeShe glanced at the worn Timex on $W_hisher wrist. The strap was too big and smelled vaguely of leather and engine oil. It was $W_hisher uncle’s, once. A hand-me-down passed off with a smile and a half-hearted warning to not lose it. The scratched face read <strong>2:16 p.m.</strong>, the second hand ticking like a heartbeat.
$W_name rubbed the remaining sleepiness from $W_hisher eyes, then ducked into the bathroom. The mirror in there was old and scraped at the corners, silver flaking away behind the glass with each passing month. $W_HeShe quickly brushed $W_hisher teeth, splashed cold water on $W_hisher face, rubbed it off with the hand towel that never quite dried right, and combed through $W_hisher dirty blonde hair with a hair brush, trying to make it look less messy than it usually was. It didn’t work, obviously. Things often had a way of not going $W_hisher way.
In the master bedroom, the door stood slightly ajar, and $W_name paused as $W_heshe passed by it.
Tomasz laid on top of the sheets, fully dressed in his once-ironed ‘job interview’ clothes. His shoes were still on, one foot half off the bed. The overhead fan clicked in slow circles above him, its sound like a broken metronome. Eight empty Narragansett Lager cans lay on their sides next to the nightstand.
$W_name’s mouth twisted in displeasure.
$W_HeShe couldn’t pinpoint when exactly had $W_hisher aunt and uncle stopped sleeping in the same room. These days, one of them always claimed the couch, or the creaky armchair, or the bed. Their love had transformed into frustration and barely suppressed bitterness right in front $W_hisher very eyes.
$W_HisHer uncle Tomasz had lost his job around two years ago, fired from the container shipping company after the fourth fight he had in the span of a month. It was with a new management, about them undercutting his bi-weekly wages. The family had held onto hope back then, like it was something that could be gripped in both hands. He'll find another. He’ll fix this. He’ll try.
But hope was a slippery thing, and Tomasz had none of the grit required to make it stick. He gambled away his savings instead. First out of desperation for his family, then out of habit. Poker nights in basements, cash advances he swore were for groceries and $W_name’s medicines.
Debt was like mold growing in the corners, ugly and impossible to ignore. And there was no one to blame but Tomasz.</em>
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.6">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.6]]*/<em>Still, $W_name stepped into the room.
$W_HeShe knelt by the bed, small fingers working at the laces of $W_hisher uncle’s shoes, careful not to jostle him too much. The leather was cracked and stiff, but $W_heshe managed to slip them off and set them neatly beside the bed. Unbeknownst to $W_himher, Tomasz would wake and appreciate the small kindness later.
The air was stuffy with the smell of beer and heat, and for a second $W_name thought about switching on the air conditioner. But $W_heshe knew what the electricity bill had looked like last month. $W_HeShe’d heard the quiet argument in the kitchen, $W_hisher aunt crying as she shut herself in the bathroom with the shower running so her $W_nephew wouldn’t hear her.
So instead, $W_heshe settled on opening the window.
The breeze outside wasn’t much, but it was still something to take off some of the stuffiness in the room. The thin curtains lifted and fell like lungs learning how to breathe again.
$W_name gathered the cans next. All eight of them clanked together as $W_heshe carried them to the trash can in the kitchen. $W_HisHer arms were too small and thin to wrap around them all at once, so $W_heshe made two trips. $W_HeShe rinsed $W_hisher hands afterward, tentatively standing on $W_hisher tiptoes to reach the sink, water pooling in $W_hisher cupped palms before $W_heshe let them fall.
And then, finally, $W_heshe stepped out the front door.
The sun was lower now, and the pavement shimmered in the heat like embedded gemstones. $W_heshe closed the door behind $W_himher, careful not to let it slam, and headed down the steps.</em>
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.7">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.7]]*/<em>$W_name walked slowly, subconsciously counting every step $W_heshe was taking. The concrete beneath $W_hisher battered red Chuck Taylors was hot enough to sear, and each step came with a gummed resistance. $W_HeShe didn’t fan $W_himself, though, even if it was so hot that it made $W_hisher scalp sweat and $W_hisher eyelids lazy. $W_HeShe didn’t want to look like $W_heshe minded. Because $W_heshe was going to see $MC_firstname, and that was worth sweating through $W_hisher shirt for.
$MC_firstname was $W_hisher best friend in the whole wide world. Or, at least, the world as $W_heshe knew it. And the world, for $W_name, was smaller than most kids $W_hisher age. It stretched as far as the walls of the Kamińskis’ house with its peeling paint and slanted floors, as far as $W_hisher aunt’s footsteps from one job to the next, as far as $W_hisher uncle’s snores from behind the bedroom door. But when summer came, and $MC_firstname returned to Rhode Island from Washington, that world cracked open a little. Grew limbs and colors and possibilities.
The latter’s house was one of the nicer ones in the suburbs. The grass was always green, and the windows never stuck, and the air conditioner hummed with a cooling lullaby without any fear of electricity bills stretching farther than the depths of $hisher mother’s purse. Nice because $hisher father still sent checks like clockwork, even though $hisher parents were living separately and Elias didn’t step foot in the state much. Nice because it was clear how much they both still loved each other and their only $MC_son despite everything.
$W_name didn’t hold that sort of stability against the $MC_surname family. They never made $W_himher feel like $W_heshe should.
<div id="centered"><<link 'But $W_heshe wished it for $W_hisher family too.' "Ch 4.8">><</link>></div>/*[[Ch 4.8]]*/</em><em>When $W_name reached the playground, the rusting metal of the swing set groaned as if it, too, was complaining about the damned heat. $W_HeShe scanned the place, hopeful, only to find the usual crowd of neighborhood kids already there. Sun-tanned and sticky-handed, laughing in childish, toothy ways.
$MC_firstname wasn’t there yet.
The old Timex said it was just a little before 3:00 p.m.—the time they had both decided on meeting up—so $W_name sat down on one of the swings, letting the rubber seat cling to the backs of $W_hisher legs. The chains creaked when $W_heshe leaned forward.
The other kids didn’t look $W_hisher way.
No. That wasn’t true. They did look $W_hisher way, but only long enough to see through $W_himher. Because to them, $W_heshe was the equivalent of a desert mirage that didn’t quite belong in the otherwise picturesque playground.
They didn’t invite $W_himher to play tag or kickball or even to watch. But alas, $W_heshe also didn’t expect them to. Most of them were local, parochial, and perfectly traditional Catholics. Their clothes were brand new, their shoes still smelled like they’d just been taken out of their boxes, and they wore crosses around their necks. They wouldn’t be caught dead fraternizing with the poor Jewish $W_boy from down the block; the one whose family still shopped at dollar stores and thrift stores.
There were all these different lives being lived around $W_himher and they all seemed so much better than $W_hisher own.
$W_name’s cargo shorts had plenty of sewed patches, the waistband cinched tight to stay up. $W_HisHer baggy PAW Patrol t-shirt had once been a brighter blue, now faded and soft with too many washes. $W_HisHer sneakers had holes in the canvas toes, the white rubber peeling back like tree bark.
No one said anything to $W_himher, but $W_heshe knew what they were all thinking. The silence said it louder than any insult.
Still, no one dared touch $W_himher. Not when they knew who was coming.</em>
*<em><<link '$MC_firstname $MC_surname knew exactly how to throw punches left and right, and $W_heshe was thankful for never being on the receiving end of them.' "Ch 4.9.1">><<set $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100); $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100); $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional + 3, 0, 100); $Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.9.1]]*/</em>
*<em><<link '$MC_firstname $MC_surname didn’t throw around punches, but $hisher words always had a bite to them when dealing with snobby bullies.' "Ch 4.9.2">><<set $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious + 3, 0, 100); $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive - 3, 0, 100); $Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic + 3, 0, 100); $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.9.2]]*/ </em><<notify 5s>>+ Impulsive, + Emotional<</notify>><em>Sean Medeiros had a big ego for a sixth grader, and an even bigger mouth. He was always flexing invisible muscles, spinning stories too large for his prepubescent frame, puffing himself up like he could scare the world into admiring him.
It was a shame, then, that $MC_firstname had shut both his mouth and ego down in a single afternoon.
$W_name had only ever seen violence like that in the R-rated movies $W_heshe watched without $W_hisher aunt finding out and giving $W_himher an earful. $W_HeShe never actually thought $W_heshe’d witness it in real life—Sean’s teeth (the baby ones he hadn’t yet lost) scattered like bloody Chiclets on the sandpit. $MC_firstname's knuckles were split, velvet and opened, like blooming flowers with a mean streak.
There’d been no warning. Just some comments about $W_name being a “welfare Jew” and that $W_hisher family should live in a trailer park instead of this neighborhood, followed by a scuffle, and then Sean's pride leaking down his chin in trails of crimson.
$W_HeShe didn’t even care what Sean or the other kids ever said about $W_himher anymore. Only that $MC_firstname had looked right at $W_himher after, breathless and wild, and asked, “You okay, Elmo?”
And $W_name had nodded, stomach twisting in what should have been fear. But it wasn’t.
Fear could never have felt this warm and protected.
So $W_heshe sat and waited, letting the chains hold $W_himher up. $W_HeShe looked down at the dust kicking at $W_hisher ankles and the way the sun hit the playground and lit the world gold.
Because this was summer.
<div id="centered"><<link 'And summer meant $MC_firstname.' "Ch 4.10">><</link>></div></em>/*[[Ch 4.10]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Cautious, + Pragmatic<</notify>><em>Sean Medeiros had a big ego for a sixth grader, and an even bigger mouth. He was always flexing invisible muscles, spinning stories too large for his prepubescent frame, puffing himself up like he could scare the world into admiring him.
It was a shame, then, that $MC_firstname had shut both his mouth and ego down in a single afternoon.
Sean had tried once—just once—to pick on $W_name in front of $himher. Had said something about $hisher best friend being a “welfare Jew” and that $W_hisher family should live in a trailer park instead of this neighborhood, stretching $W_hisher name out like it tasted bad in Sean’s mouth.
$MC_firstname had looked at Sean for a full three seconds. Then said, “Oh, you poor thing. You really think being obnoxiously loud will ever change the fact that your parents have stopped paying attention to you since your sister was born.”
That was it. One sentence. But Sean had turned pink all the way to the edges of his ears as his friends bursted out laughing at how spot-on the $MC_eyecolor-eyed $MC_boy’s observation was, and no one had heard much from him for the rest of the summer.
$W_name had watched it happen with wide eyes, full of awe and giddiness in $W_hisher belly. $MC_firstname hadn’t even raised $hisher voice. $HeShe’d just dropped the sentence like a lit match and watched it burn through every single instance of kids picking on $hisher blonde best friend.
$W_name had since cherished the warmth of $MC_firstname’s care and the shield of $hisher loyalty.
So $W_heshe sat and waited, letting the chains hold $W_himher up. $W_HeShe looked down at the dust kicking at $W_hisher ankles and the way the sun hit the playground and lit the world gold.
Because this was summer.
<div id="centered"><<link 'And summer meant $MC_firstname.' "Ch 4.10">><</link>></div></em>/*[[Ch 4.10]]*/<<audio "WO1" fadeoverto 15 0>><<notify>>Saved!<</notify>><em>You were late. Spectacularly, unforgivably late. And all because you and your mom had gotten sucked into watching Cake Boss reruns on TLC.
You were supposed to leave at 2:45 p.m. sharp. Instead, you were still barefoot in the kitchen at 3:03 p.m., yelling something about your missing pair of shoes while your mom watched you with that fond, exasperated tilt of her head that meant you reminded her of herself.
“I swear,” she murmured as you darted from the living room to the hallway and back again, “you’re always this dramatic when it’s about Elmo.”
“I am not!” you shouted from the bathroom, a hair brush in your hand.
“You’re fluffing your hair,” she called back with a smile in her voice. “To go to a playground.”
“I’m fixing it,” you said, emerging again and smoothing down your shirt. “There’s a difference. I just don’t wanna look like an idiot in front of $W_himher.”
Your mom arched an eyebrow and her grin went sly, like a fox who’d just remembered where it buried the good snacks. “Uh huh. And is that the only reason you’re so worried about your appearance?”</em>
*<em>[[You rolled your eyes and said, “Geez, Mom, is it a crime to want to look presentable?”|Ch 4.11.1][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100)]]</em>
*<em><<link 'You can feel your face getting hot at her insinuation. “Elmo and I are just friends, Mom!” [♥]' "Ch 4.11.2">><<set $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100); $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100); $Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist + 3, 0, 100); $Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist - 3, 0, 100); $W_romance to $W_romance +1>><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.11.2]]*/</em><<notify 5s>>+ Sarcastic, + Uptight<</notify>><em>“You’re just meeting Elmo, not some fancy $M_prince from England,” she said, plucking a grape from the glass bowl in her lap. “That shirt’s going to end up soaked in dirt and grass before five.”
You tugged at the hem of your clean shirt, brushing invisible lint off the fabric. “Do you seriously think that $W_heshe and I have nothing better to do than roll around in the grass all day?”
That earned a chuckle and a shake of her head, her earrings catching the light like laughter. She didn’t say anything else, but the silence was full of that quiet amusement that parents wear when they know more than they let on.
You quickly tied your laces up and bolted before she could bring up anything else she knew would make you flee the conversation faster.</em>
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.12">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.12]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Shy, + Pessimist<</notify>><em>The words came out a little too fast. Defensive in a way that didn’t need defending. You hated that.
But your mother was already watching you with that crooked little grin, head tilted, fingers steepled like she was a psychic about to read your soul.
She eventually raised both hands in surrender, her smile warm and unbothered. “Just saying, little <<hovertip '[<em>Greek</em>] pomegranate'>><em>ῥόα</em><</hovertip>>.”
You mumbled something about her teasing being worse than your dad’s sometimes and darted out the door, your heart pounding a little faster than before.</em>
Just friends. Just friends.
<em>So why did your palms feel so sweaty with the prospect of seeing $W_himher again?</em>
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.12">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.12]]*/<em>You spotted $W_name before $W_heshe saw you, hunched a little on the swing as if $W_heshe was ashamed of the space $W_heshe was taking up, sneakers scuffing patterns into the dirt. The light hit $W_hisher hair and made it look like a halo of worn gold, dishevelled and soft-looking. You always wanted to ruffle it even more, although you knew $W_heshe'd pretend to hate it. $W_HisHer gaze was fixed on $W_hisher shoes, preventing $W_himher from noticing your arrival.
The neighborhood kids milled around nearby, slightly irritating you with the ruckus they were making. You gave them a side-eye but it was something your mother said you’d inherited from your paternal grandmother. The kind that said, </em>Don’t even think about approaching me.<em> They didn’t look your way again after that.
You dropped into the swing beside $W_name, letting the chains creak under your weight.
At the sound, $W_heshe glanced up, frowning like $W_heshe expected someone worse. But then $W_hisher expression shifted in that very specific, rare way it always did for you. $W_HisHer sapphire eyes lit up like a blue Christmas tree, making your sour mood from seeing the other kids lift altogether.
“Hope I didn’t make you wait too long,” you said, sheepish, your grin tugging crooked at the corners. “Mom got me watching Cake Boss with her again and I lost track of time.”
$W_name shook $W_hisher head a little too quickly. “No, it’s fine. I just got here.”
You didn’t call $W_himher out, even though you were eagle-eyed enough to see the red sunburn crawling up the fair skin on the back of $W_hisher neck. But you let it slide. $W_HeShe wasn’t always good with being open with the truth, and you usually let $W_himher believe $W_heshe was a better liar than $W_heshe really was.
$W_HeShe kicked at the dirt with the toe of one holey Converse, then asked, “You ready to go?”
You nodded, already pushing yourself up. “Yep, let’s go.”</em>
*<em><<link "$W_name held your hand as $W_heshe led you away and you were hoping to god that $W_heshe wasn't noticing your face getting super hot. [♥]" "Ch 4.13.1">><<set $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100); $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100); $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious + 3, 0, 100); $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive - 3, 0, 100); $W_romance to $W_romance+1>><</link>></em>/*[[Ch 4.13.1]]*/
*<em><<link "You confidently grabbed $W_name’s hand and led $W_himher away before you could think twice about it. You were not gonna chicken out now! [♥]" "Ch 4.13.2">><<set $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100); $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100); $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100); $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100); $W_romance to $W_romance+1>><</link>></em> /*[[Ch 4.13.2]]*/
*<em><<link "You wrapped an arm around $W_name's shoulder as you both walked away from the playground." "Ch 4.13.3">><<set $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100); $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100); $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>></em> /*[[Ch 4.13.3]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Shy, + Cautious<</notify>><em>$W_HeShe didn’t say anything when $W_heshe reached for your hand, just slipped $W_hisher fingers into yours like it was the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it was. Maybe it had always been this way. But your heart kicked at your ribs like it didn’t believe in fate so much as the catastrophe waiting to happen if $W_heshe decided to just pull $W_hisher hand away.
You pretended not to notice the spark of contact running down your arm and lodging somewhere just beneath your skin. You hoped to god $W_heshe didn’t notice how sweaty your palm was getting, or how warm your face felt, like you’d swallowed the sun and now had to wear it around $W_himher all the time.
What you didn’t see was that $W_name was beet red all the way to the roots of $W_hisher hair. That $W_heshe kept looking straight ahead because $W_heshe was scared that if $W_heshe looked at you, $W_heshe’d trip over $W_hisher feet and fall flat on $W_hisher face, or worst of all, say something stupid like: “I feel the happiest when I’m with you.”
The summer heat didn’t stand a chance compared to the strange feeling that had bloomed and taken root between your young hearts.</em>
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.14">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.14]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Bold, + Impulsive<</notify>><em>You didn’t wait. You just reached out and grabbed $W_hisher hand like it belonged to you now. This was something you’d done a hundred times before and a hundred times more was inevitable.
“Let’s go,” you said, grinning like you’d swallowed the wind, like the day belonged to the two of you and no one else. And then you were running fast enough that it made your blood move and your legs stretch and the air in your lungs feel cleaner.
Behind you, $W_name stumbled for a second as $W_heshe wasn’t ready for you. The look on your face. The warmth of your hand. The fact that you’d just done that without blinking. $W_HisHer face was redder than it had ever been in $W_hisher life, and $W_heshe was suddenly very, very aware of the fact that $W_hisher hand was in yours and $W_heshe didn’t want to let go.
Even the sun didn’t make $W_himher feel this overheated.</em>
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.14">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.14]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Friendly, + Laidback<</notify>><em>You slung your arm around $W_name’s shoulder like it was the easiest thing in the world. This kind of closeness was nothing new between you two. It usually made the strangers around you think of you two as siblings, or lifelong friends, and maybe that was true in a way that was both more and less than either.
$W_HeShe didn’t flinch away, didn’t duck $W_hisher head like $W_heshe habitually did. $W_HeShe just glanced at you with a content smile, and then settled into the touch.
The world felt nicer this way. Like the shouts of the kids behind you were a movie playing in another room. Like summer was something you could hold onto if you just stayed like this. Walking slowly, shoulder to shoulder, because the afternoon had no scorching edges at all.
There wasn’t any need to say anything. But as you both just walked, you proceeded to fill the amicable silence with what happened in the Cake Boss episode you just watched.</em>
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.14">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.14]]*/<<audio "LHH" loop play>><em>The house at the end of Rutherglen Avenue shouldn’t even be there. At least, that was what everyone complained about.
The Reservoir neighborhood was modest but proud; weathered brick and slanted porches, flowering dogwoods in spring, Fourth of July bunting still up by Halloween. The street sloped gently, and at the end of it, perched like an ugly tobacco stain, was the Lovelace house.
It was a squat, two-storey thing crouched beneath a canopy of overgrown trees. The people who lived nearby had learned long ago to keep walking past it without staring for too long. Not out of superstition or anything. It was just easier not to think about what refused to be fixed.
The iron fence out front had rusted itself into a tetanus trap, its hinges shrieking like a skinned animal whenever the wind bullied its way through. Ivy climbed the flaking wood as if it was trying to hold the house together with green fingers. Every window was either shattered or stained from the inside, the glass jaundiced with age. It had the kind of spookiness you’d expect to find mentioned in some sort of creepypasta forum or a r/nosleep story at night. No one remembered when the mailbox disappeared or when the porch collapsed in on itself, but it had long since crossed the threshold from neglected to cursed.</em>
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.15">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.15]]*/<em>Harold Lovelace was the last person who had called it home in any technical sense. A war veteran with guts full of shrapnel and a thousand-yard stare, he had returned from Vietnam too late to find the world had no place for men like him anymore. His wife, Sue, had held on through the worst of it, her devotion as stubborn as her love for her Harry. They had once been the type of people who played Scrabble on Sunday nights and watered their peonies before breakfast, but the war and the chemo drained the color out of them in very different ways.
When the cancer took Sue away in 1972, Harold didn’t last the winter. They said it happened on a cold and cloudy Tuesday. He mistook the creak of the floorboards for enemy fire and did what he’d been trained to do when cornered. Besides, even in the throes of his traumatized mind, he knew that he had no one to come home to anymore.
The police made a report, a cousin took the family Labrador, and the Lovelace house was left to rot gently into the earth.
</em>It should be bulldozed<em>, people muttered. But no one had mustered enough willpower to do so. The neighborhood grew around it like scar tissue. Newer homes sprouted with fresh paint and rose bushes that actually bloomed. But the Lovelace house was a blister in an otherwise manicured suburb.
Every few years, some hopeful urban planner would consider it a potential investment, only to back away quietly once they realized it came with more than just water damage and multiple housing code violations. The real estate agents dropped the price every spring, but nobody called.</em>
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.16">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.16]]*/<em>In the summer of 1978, Edward Cohen and Marzieh Dehghan slipped into Providence. Being seventeen and sixteen respectively, they were trying to run far away from North Carolina and their disapproving communities with only $5.62 to their names, two wrinkled Greyhound tickets in Eddie’s jeans, the clothes on their backs, and each other.
They had grown up in two different worlds with two different gods and the same type of cruel, closed-door families. They’d met at the AV club of their high school and fallen deeply in love in the span of a year.
Marz had pointed out the lonesome Lovelace house on their second night in the city, both rain-drenched and shivering. They had then decided that if the world wouldn’t let them be together in life, it wouldn’t get the pleasure of keeping them apart even in death.
They bought a pack of double-edged razor blades from the nearest corner store. They shared a Big Mac, a large bag of fries, and a Coca-Cola. They shared awful jokes and laughed into the night. They kissed until their lips went numb. And then, in the upstairs bathroom with the rotted floor tiles and cracked porcelain, they sat inside the bathtub and simultaneously sealed a final pact against each other’s wrists.
Weeks later, the woman living right next to the Lovelace house would complain about a terrible stench wafting through every time she opened her bedroom window on the second-floor in order to let the breeze in. The community service workers found both the Tar Heels putrefied and still interlaced like two halves of the same being, their hands and legs having fused together during the liquefaction process of decomposition. It was as if the house itself had refused to separate them.
The coroner who was in charge simply covered them with a single sheet and left it at that. Since no one ever came forward to claim the bodies, they would later be buried together in an unmarked grave at the North Burial Ground.</em>
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.17">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.17]]*/<em>By the time the mid-80s rolled around, it had become a sort of secret temple for the rejected. The AIDS epidemic in America turned many lovers into exiles, and Rhode Island was often a long way from home for most of them. But the Lovelace house welcomed them like a place of worship welcomes lost souls. It quietly provided the kind of silence you could die inside of without anyone interrupting.
They came in twos, mostly. Aggrieved and shaking, but whole when they were together. They left behind guns, utility knives, unsent letters, diaries, lipstick-stained disposable cups, and once, a black cassette player that still managed to play Joy Division songs if you pressed hard enough on the play button.
The neighbors started keeping watch, at first out of concern, then out of something closer to fear. Security patrols circled three times a night. Neighborhood watch lists were printed and taped to telephone poles. But no matter how often they changed the padlocks or boarded up the cellar, people kept finding their way in. There was always a loose board, always a gap in the fence, always a space where the house would let them in.
Soon after, the volunteers stopped bothering to show up. The city stopped inspecting as well. The locals mowed their lawns and watered their gardens and tried not to think about that godforsaken house at the end of Rutherglen Avenue.</em>
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.18">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.18]]*/<em>And still it stood to this day. Rotting quietly beneath its burden of tragic stories, ignored by developers and passed over by every hopeful flipper with a dream of restoring old bones. The double suicides had stopped a while before the 2000s arrived, but it was still a complete eyesore for the residents. In fact, they hated it so much that it was eventually nicknamed ‘The Murder House’ at some point.
On the contrary, many older romantics around the East Coast still considered it a place where forgotten lovers could scream and not be heard, weep and not be judged, fail and not be punished.
It was fresh oxygen. It was mornings in May and a bed of linoleum that didn’t care who you kissed goodnight. It was the one place left where being invisible didn’t hurt so badly, because everyone else was invisible too. It was, for the lack of a better word, home.
What more was there to ask for if this was the only place that welcomed you no matter who you were?
At night, the more superstitious people of the Reservoir neighborhood believed the house sang with its contented ghosts. They danced down the staircase and across the warped floorboards. They traced the outline of each other's palms on foggy window panes. They spoke only to each other in an incomprehensible language and laughed into the rising dawn. Their faces were still carved into peace, even in the afterlife. Theirs was a kind of happiness the world of the living could never even begin to fathom.
<div id="centered">[[And, oh, how heavenly must it be.|Ch 4.19]]</div></em><<audio "LHH" fadeoverto 15 0>><em>$W_name stood at the cracked edge of the sidewalk, $W_hisher hand tightening slightly around the hem of $W_hisher shirt, the fabric already damp from perspiration. The house loomed in front of you. Sagging and yellow-toothed like an old pariah with nothing left to offer but memory and mildew. Its shutters hung askew, and the front door was yawning open just an inch as if it had been ominously waiting for someone to come knocking.
$W_HeShe gulped. You stood beside $W_himher, your shoulders barely brushing with the buzz of cicadas in your ears and the syrupy heat of July beating down on your back. But it had taken weeks to finally do this, and neither of you were backing down now. Weeks of whispered curiosity and stories traded beneath porch lights had led up to this. Of daring glances every time you passed the far end of Rutherglen Avenue on the way to Mashapaug Pond. Weeks of asking around, only to be met with the same drawn lips and shaking heads.
Then, Sibylle ended up having too much wine on a weekend. Her voice had gone liquid and strange as she finally gave in and told you both what you had already half-suspected. Stories of ghosts, dead lovers, and kids who never came back filled the living room.
Once you heard them all, you couldn’t let it go. Neither of you could, really.
You should have been in your air-conditioned bedroom playing Mario Kart or eating freeze pops. But instead, you were here, your shoulders squared and your mouth set in an unreadable line as you stared up at the house with your best friend by your side.</em>
*<em><<link 'You were trying to look fearless for $W_name’s sake, although you were scared shitless too.' "Ch 4.20.1">><<set $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100); $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional + 3, 0, 100); $Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>></em>/*[[Ch 4.20.1]]*/
*<em>[[Honestly, you were pretty excited to explore the house more than anything.|Ch 4.20.2][$Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100), $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100), $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100); $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100)]]</em>
*<em><<link 'Your expression was neutral the whole time, which made $W_name feel surprisingly better.' "Ch 4.20.3">><<set $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100); $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100); $Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic + 3, 0, 100); $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>></em> /*[[Ch 4.20.3]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Friendly, + Emotional<</notify>><em>You didn’t dare to breathe too loud.
The windows, broken and clouded with grime, felt like eyes watching you. Eyes that didn’t blink. Your heart was rattling around in your ribcage like it wanted to bail out through your throat, but you kept your face steady.
You made your voice lighter than it had any right to be when you turned to $W_name and said, “We’ll stick together. Any signs of something creepy and we’ll bolt. Deal?”
“Deal.”
$W_HisHer voice had shaken and cracked, and you could see the way his fingers were twitching at his sides, like he was trying not to reach for your hand, and suddenly your own fear didn’t matter. You made yourself walk just a little bit taller. Pretended you didn’t notice how dry your mouth was. Because if your best friend was willing to march toward the creepy old house for you, you’d be damned if $W_heshe had to do it alone.
<div id="centered">[[You stepped in first, one foot in front of the other.|Ch 4.21]]</div></em><<notify 5s>>+ Impulsive, + Bold<</notify>><em>It was strange, the way your pulse sped up. It wasn't from dread, funnily enough, but from curiosity. The stories of the Lovelace house weren't just spooky tales for you. It was more so a locked room with a hundred secrets. A place where the world had ended, over and over again, and no one had come back to sweep away the dust.
As the insects screamed in the distance and the fence groaned under your push, you felt alive in a way the playgrounds and clean sidewalks of the neighborhood never made you feel. There was a real tragedy here, wasn’t there? Not neat, little Sunday-school ones that would make you fall asleep in seconds. But a series of real tragedies with strangely optimistic undertones. Human and ugly and holy.
So you grabbed $W_name’s hand without thinking, more to drag $W_himher along than anything else, and said, “Come on. Before somebody sees and tries to stop us.”
It didn’t even matter that your sneakers might come back full of spiderwebs and your shirt stinking of mildew. You were ready to read every line of what you’d heard in the walls of this place.
<div id="centered">[[You stepped in first, one foot in front of the other.|Ch 4.21]]</div></em><<notify 5s>>+ Aloof, + Pragmatic<</notify>><em>You said nothing. You kept your hands in your pockets and your face unreadable, eyes tracking the cracked windows and hanging gutters with the calm look of someone inspecting some sort of damage. You weren’t sure what you expected, wanting to explore this ruin of a house, but you knew one thing: the only way to make it through was to just get it over with.
Beside you, $W_name kept glancing your way as if trying to measure your emotions in the moment through your reaction. $W_HisHer breath caught a little whenever the wind made the door creak or when the fence groaned under your weight.
You didn’t have to say anything to soothe $W_himher though. You just moved forward, unflinching, like this was any other old house with no extraordinary history. And it worked. You could see it in the way $W_heshe straightened $W_hisher spine and took a step closer to the porch.
Not because $W_heshe wasn’t afraid, but rather because </em>you<em> hadn’t been.
<div id="centered">[[You stepped in first, one foot in front of the other.|Ch 4.21]]</div></em><em>The inside definitely didn’t look any better than the outside.
The first thing you noticed was the scent. A decaying smell which was only softened at the edges by the faint sweetness of flowers drifting in from the gardens of nearby houses that had not yet forgotten themselves. Honeysuckle. Jasmine. Roses.
Light trickled in through the shattered windows, slicing across the floor in narrow bars. Decades of dead leaves crusted the corners, crisping beneath your shoes. The dust rose around you whenever you took a step, dry and gray and fine as ash. You waved your hand in front of your nose, grimacing, nostrils itching.
The wallpaper had long since given up its grip. It peeled from the walls in slow, curling strips, like flower petals left too long in the sun. The patterns were still visible in places: yellowing florals, once cheerful, now faded into a hideous shade of greenish brown.
The living room greeted you with its slump of old furniture. The coffee table was missing one leg and leaning like a drunk toward the floor. A single couch sagged in the middle, its cushions buckling inward and springs showing itself through the numerous holes in it. A rat scurried behind the wall and you didn’t wish to look for where it went.
“Ugh,” you muttered in slight disappointment, taking it all in with narrowed eyes. “This place is a dump.”
“Why did you expect otherwise?” $W_name asked, pushing the words out between barely-contained laughter, $W_hisher eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that softened $W_hisher whole face.
You shrugged, pretending to study a shattered lamp as you mumbled something about hoping it would be more interesting. It wasn’t that you were wishing to be jumpscared or something. Truth be told, you weren’t sure what you wanted. Maybe you just didn’t want the whole experience to feel so depressive and dead.</em>
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.22">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.22]]*/<em>The dining room connected to the kitchen, and the table sat like a carcass in the middle of the room with its wood splintered and deteriorating. Only three of the chairs remained upright. The fourth had been flung to the side, back broken, one leg missing. It reminded you of a body mid-fall. You didn’t stare at it for too long.
The kitchen smelled worse. Sour, metallic. Rust and rot that almost made you throw up the sandwich and fruits you had for lunch. $W_name had wisely decided to not follow you and look over the master bedroom instead. The appliances were too old to be useful, and too battered to be sold to an antique shop. Their enamel shells were cracked and streaked with corrosion, the fridge door half-hanging open like it had been startled and never recovered.
$W_name came to join you in the living room after $W_hisher private exploration.
“Found anything interesting?” you asked, coughing a little from the dust particles.
“Aside from a bed that has seen better days? Not really,” $W_heshe replied as $W_heshe looked around the room. “The entire house probably got picked clean of any valuables a long time ago.”
“We’re only like half a century too late, after all,” you muttered as you tried to lift the mildewed carpet with your foot.
<div id="centered">[[You both then turned your eyes to the staircase.|Ch 4.23]]</div></em><em>The banister curved with elegance that hadn’t aged well. Several of the steps were missing entirely, planks blackened and snapped with finality. The air up there felt thicker somehow, despite small gusts of wind wheezing in through the broken windows.
$W_name frowned at the stairs like they’d personally offended $W_himher. “There’s no way I’m climbing up on that.”
“Come on,” you said, stepping forward with something that almost passed for confidence. “We can just jump over the broken ones.”
$W_HeShe crossed $W_hisher arms and turned to you with an incredulous look. “And if the whole thing collapses and we’re stranded upstairs?”</em>
*<em>[[“I guess we better get ready to haunt the place too then.”|Ch 4.24.1][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100)]]</em>
*<em>[[“We’ll probably end up jumping out a window if that happens.”|Ch 4.24.2][$Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist + 3, 0, 100), $Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist - 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100)]]</em>
*<em>[[“Then let’s cross our fingers and hope it doesn’t happen.”|Ch 4.24.3][$Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist + 3, 0, 100), $Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist - 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100)]]</em>
*<em>[[“I'll stay with you regardless of what happens, Elmo. I promise.” [♥]|Ch 4.24.4][$Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional + 3, 0, 100), $Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic - 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100), $W_romance to $W_romance +1]]</em><<notify 5s>>+ Sarcastic, + Laidback<</notify>><em>$W_HeShe raised an eyebrow. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”
But the corner of $W_hisher mouth twitched like $W_heshe thought maybe that was exactly the case.
You gripped the banister and tested your weight on the first step. It screeched, but held. Another step. Another creak. Behind you, $W_name hovered like $W_heshe was suddenly reevaluating how much faith $W_heshe had in your judgment versus how much $W_heshe wanted to nope out of there.
You took a deep breath and launched yourself over the first gap. For a second, your stomach dropped as you landed on the other side with a thunk. But the floor didn’t give out under you. You turned, triumphant.
$W_name was smiling, though you could tell $W_heshe was a little concerned as $W_heshe clapped at you subtly showing off your passable acrobatic skills. $W_HeShe lamented under $W_hisher breath—how $W_hisher aunt would strangle $W_himher if she ever found out about this—before mimicking your leap with far more grace than $W_heshe’d expected from $W_himself. $W_HeShe stumbled a bit as $W_heshe landed, and you quickly reached out to steady $W_himher.
<<if $W_romance gte 1>>You both stared at each other, your hearts running wild in your rib cages. $W_HeShe quickly balanced $W_himself against the wall to avoid leaning onto you too much. You cleared your throat and moved away as well, but your hands lingered together a tad bit longer before separating.<<else>>You both stared at each other for a second before bursting out laughing, high-pitched and breathless, the sound echoing up the hollowed-out stairwell.<</if>>
The dust rose again, dancing. The house creaked around you, but it didn’t feel like you were being asked to leave, either.</em>
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.25">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.25]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Pessimist, + Uptight<</notify>><em>In a rare display of sarcasm that $W_heshe only showed around you, $W_heshe said, “You’re full of brilliant ideas today, aren’t you?”
But the corner of $W_hisher mouth twitched and $W_heshe didn’t offer any more disagreements.
You gripped the banister and tested your weight on the first step. It screeched, but held. Another step. Another creak. Behind you, $W_name hovered like $W_heshe was suddenly reevaluating how much faith $W_heshe had in your judgment versus how much $W_heshe wanted to nope out of there.
You took a deep breath and launched yourself over the first gap. For a second, your stomach dropped as you landed on the other side with a thunk. But the floor didn’t give out under you. You turned, triumphant.
$W_name was smiling, though you could tell $W_heshe was a little concerned as $W_heshe clapped at you subtly showing off your passable acrobatic skills. $W_HeShe lamented under $W_hisher breath—how $W_hisher aunt would strangle $W_himher if she ever found out about this—before mimicking your leap with far more grace than $W_heshe’d expected from $W_himself. $W_HeShe stumbled a bit as $W_heshe landed, and you quickly reached out to steady $W_himher.
<<if $W_romance gte 1>>You both stared at each other, your hearts running wild in your rib cages. $W_HeShe quickly balanced $W_himself against the wall to avoid leaning onto you too much. You cleared your throat and moved away as well, but your hands lingered together a tad bit longer before separating.<<else>>You both stared at each other for a second before bursting out laughing, high-pitched and breathless, the sound echoing up the hollowed-out stairwell.<</if>>
The dust rose again, dancing. The house creaked around you, but it didn’t feel like you were being asked to leave, either.</em>
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.25">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.25]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Optimist, + Genuine<</notify>><em>$W_HeShe sighed. “As if doing so has ever helped anyone.”
But $W_heshe didn’t move from $W_hisher spot and made sure you could still feel $W_hisher presence near you.
You gripped the banister and tested your weight on the first step. It screeched, but held. Another step. Another creak. Behind you, $W_name hovered like $W_heshe was suddenly reevaluating how much faith $W_heshe had in your judgment versus how much $W_heshe wanted to nope out of there.
You took a deep breath and launched yourself over the first gap. For a second, your stomach dropped as you landed on the other side with a thunk. But the floor didn’t give out under you. You turned, triumphant.
$W_name was smiling, though you could tell $W_heshe was a little concerned as $W_heshe clapped at you subtly showing off your passable acrobatic skills. $W_HeShe lamented under $W_hisher breath—how $W_hisher aunt would strangle $W_himher if she ever found out about this—before mimicking your leap with far more grace than $W_heshe’d expected from $W_himself. $W_HeShe stumbled a bit as $W_heshe landed, and you quickly reached out to steady $W_himher.
<<if $W_romance gte 1>>You both stared at each other, your hearts running wild in your rib cages. $W_HeShe quickly balanced $W_himself against the wall to avoid leaning onto you too much. You cleared your throat and moved away as well, but your hands lingered together a tad bit longer before separating.<<else>>You both stared at each other for a second before bursting out laughing, high-pitched and breathless, the sound echoing up the hollowed-out stairwell.<</if>>
The dust rose again, dancing. The house creaked around you, but it didn’t feel like you were being asked to leave, either.</em>
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.25">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.25]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Emotional, + Genuine<</notify>><em>$W_HeShe snapped $W_hisher eyes towards yours. You saw $W_himher lap up the sincerity behind them and duck $W_hisher head with a small smile. “Okay. I’ll hold you to that.”
You gripped the banister and tested your weight on the first step. It screeched, but held. Another step. Another creak. Behind you, $W_name hovered like $W_heshe was suddenly reevaluating how much faith $W_heshe had in your judgment versus how much $W_heshe wanted to nope out of there.
You took a deep breath and launched yourself over the first gap. For a second, your stomach dropped as you landed on the other side with a thunk. But the floor didn’t give out under you. You turned, triumphant.
$W_name was smiling, though you could tell $W_heshe was a little concerned as $W_heshe clapped at you subtly showing off your passable acrobatic skills. $W_HeShe lamented under $W_hisher breath—how $W_hisher aunt would strangle $W_himher if she ever found out about this—before mimicking your leap with far more grace than $W_heshe’d expected from $W_himself. $W_HeShe stumbled a bit as $W_heshe landed, and you quickly reached out to steady $W_himher.
<<if $W_romance gte 1>>You both stared at each other, your hearts running wild in your rib cages. $W_HeShe quickly balanced $W_himself against the wall to avoid leaning onto you too much. You cleared your throat and moved away as well, but your hands lingered together a tad bit longer before separating.<<else>>You both stared at each other for a second before bursting out laughing, high-pitched and breathless, the sound echoing up the hollowed-out stairwell.<</if>>
The dust rose again, dancing. The house creaked around you, but it didn’t feel like you were being asked to leave, either.</em>
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.25">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.25]]*/<<notify>>Saved!<</notify>><em>The bedrooms on the second floor had been stripped down to bones. One room had what looked like the remains of a bureau, half-collapsed under the weight of time. The other had a bed frame bent sideways with piles of wood on it. A moth fluttered sluggishly against the windowpane, the glass fogged from decades of neglect and dust. It was quiet except for the sound of your own feet scuffing across the gnarled floorboards and the breathless drum of your own heartbeat.
You peeked into the bathroom, bracing yourself with a grim curiosity since you’d heard the whispers about those two teens in 1978 from Sibylle’s wine-loosened tongue. But instead of the bathtub, there was just fractured porcelain where a sink used to be with walls grimed with mud and mold.
The empty space where the tub should have been gaped back at you like a pulled tooth. Gone, probably carted off by the police or some community service worker years ago, boxed away for evidence.
“$MC_nickname?” $W_name’s voice called out softly from down the hallway, almost making you jump out of your skin at the suddenness of it.</em>
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.26">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.26]]*/<em>You turned, stepping back into the corridor. $W_HeShe was standing near the end of the hall, $W_hisher face tilted upward, squinting at the low ceiling. You followed $W_hisher gaze and saw what $W_heshe had: a wooden square, slightly off-center, edged in dust like an unopened letter. A ceiling hatch.
Before $W_heshe could say anything else, you stepped forward and leapt just high enough to catch the frayed cord dangling from the trapdoor. It came loose with a piercing creak, and a narrow ladder unfolded down with a clatter, shaking loose a puff of old insulation dust that glimmered like glitter in the filtered light.
$W_HeShe stepped back instinctively, grabbing hold of the inhaler in $W_hisher pocket. “So we’re exploring the creepy attic too?”
You turned to $W_himher with a grin that was more stubborn than brave. “It’s the only room left. Come on, we’ll check it out and then we’ll leave.”
<em>$W_HeShe sighed, having made peace with the fact that $W_heshe was always going to follow you into any kind of trouble you found yourself in. “I trust that ladder less than I trusted that staircase back there.”
You didn’t blame $W_himher. It looked like it would break if the wind blew on it. The rungs were narrow, bowed in the middle as it had clearly lived way past its prime. But curiosity had its teeth in both of you now, and it wasn’t letting go.
“I’ll go first,” you said. “If it ends up breaking, tell my mom that I love her.”
“I think she’d rather prefer that I dragged you to her,” $W_name replied with a snort, “so she can kill you with her own two hands.”
You stuck your tongue out at $W_himher before grabbing the sides and climbing up, slowly, cautiously, as the wood groaned beneath your weight. Each rung felt like a question: Will this hold? Am I gonna break any bones if I fall? What will I see up there?
At the top, the attic opened into a low-ceilinged room of silence. You stuck your head down through the hatch and waved. “It’s fine. Come on.”
$W_HeShe looked up at you. There was hesitation in $W_hisher eyes—clear, sapphire blue and wide—but also something that looked like a spark of wonder.
$W_HeShe reached for the ladder before stepping onto the first rung and climbing up to join you.</em>
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.27">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.27]]*/<em>It was warmer here as the heat was trapped directly under the roof. Dust blanketed everything like snow, the air thick and dry. Forgotten furniture loomed in the shadows. Things half-shrouded in old sheets, boxes stacked like tombstones, a single rocking chair still swaying slightly from the movement of air you’d stirred up.
You moved toward the far corner where a sagging mattress slumped beneath a faded floral blanket, its shape oddly human in silhouette. It had been swallowed by shadows until now, tucked beneath the low eaves.
While you tugged at the fabric, $W_name was at the window, wrestling with the old latch. It gave with a reluctant shriek, and fresh air spilled in. The scent of cut grass drifted inside, alongside somebody's particularly strong-smelling roses three houses down. It carried away the heaviest of the attic’s breath and made the room cool down.
The mattress, when uncovered, looked as old as the wallpaper downstairs, but surprisingly free of mold or things that scuttled. You leaned in closer, fingers brushing along the coarse fabric, half-expecting to find a dried bloodstain or a note tucked beneath. But there was nothing except the lingering traces of the dust you brushed away. If this mattress had ever felt someone lay on it, it had long since forgotten the heat of living bodies.
“This sucks big time. Everything turned out to be a bust,” you muttered, nudging a half-collapsed box with your shoe. Its contents scattered: a tangle of useless wires, shattered light bulbs, and the bare bones of a 1960s toaster. Reminders of earlier years, all of them. You gave it a kick out of spite, and the thud was quieter than it should’ve been. Even the sound seemed hesitant here.
Behind you, $W_name exhaled. The air stirred. You heard $W_himher step softly across the attic, drawn to something at the far wall.
“Hey,” $W_heshe said, low but urgent. “Check this out.”</em>
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.28">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.28]]*/<<set $MC_firstnameinitial to $MC_firstname.first()>><em>You joined $W_himher to see what $W_heshe was looking at. The wall $W_heshe stood near was rough and unpainted, streaked with dust that would definitely leave fingerprints if disturbed. You peered closer.
There were initials carved in it. Dozens of them. Some old and darker, others newer and pale. Some were sloppy and rushed, the lines crooked as if made by shaking hands. Others had been traced again and again, almost lovingly, deep enough to catch a fingertip or two.
H + S
E + M
O + L
X + A
…
Etched hearts. Little crosses. Half-formed symbols of forever.
Your eyes followed them down the wall, confusion curling in your gut.
“H and S,” $W_name said softly, running $W_hisher thumb just above initials that looked the oldest of the bunch. “Harold and Sue?”
You nodded. “Could be. The scratch marks look old enough.”
$W_HeShe didn’t reply, but you could tell $W_heshe was thinking it too.
“And the rest…” Your voice trailed off.
“Must be those who came in after them,” $W_name finished for you.</em>
*<em>[[So you’re basically surrounded by dead people's names? That’s just peachy.|Ch 4.29.1][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100)]]</em>
*<em>[[You’re not exactly religious, but you offer a basic prayer for these people.|Ch 4.29.2][$Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100)]]</em>
*<em>[[“And did none of these people bothered cleaning up a little around here?”|Ch 4.29.3][$Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100)]]</em><<notify 5s>>+ Sarcastic, + Laidback<</notify>><em>You exhaled through your nose, folding your arms as you stared at the carvings like they were part of some over-hyped art exhibit you'd been dragged to on a school field trip.
$W_name glanced over at you, lips twitching in a half-smile that didn’t quite reach $W_hisher eyes. You didn’t need to ask if $W_heshe felt the weird weight of it too. This place certainly wasn’t haunted in the traditional sense. It was haunted by memory and the unmistakable scent of heartbreak that refused to age.
“Maybe they’re judging us for not bringing a Sharpie,” you mumbled under your breath, squinting at the wall like it might retaliate at your poor joke.
Humor wasn’t armor so much as it was an old habit, like biting your nails or keeping your shoes tied too tight. And right now, humor was all you had.
$W_name huffed a soft laugh, quiet and brief, and it was enough to shake the heaviness off for a second.
$W_HeShe turned toward the wall again and looked at the peppered initials on it. $W_HeShe was quiet for a moment, and then $W_heshe said it so casually you almost missed it.
“We should carve ours too.”
You blinked, thinking you'd misheard $W_himher, your hand pausing on the rickety window frame you’d been tracing with a fingertip. “What?”
“Our initials,” $W_heshe repeated, a bit more firmly this time. “Yours and mine. Just for the sake of memories if we ever come back here.” $W_HeShe looked down at $W_hisher sneakers, the sole of one flapping slightly with each step. “Hopefully this place will still be standing by then.”
Your eyebrows shot up, your voice lifting with disbelief. “I thought you were scared of this house. You’re already planning a return trip?”
$W_name shrugged. It was the small, delicate gesture of a $W_boy just a few paces into growing up, trying to put a sentence to something $W_heshe didn’t entirely understand yet.
“One thing I’ve learned after being friends with you,” $W_heshe said, brushing $W_hisher fingers along the wall like $W_heshe was selecting just the right spot, “is that sometimes things are only scary until you experience them yourself.”
You laughed a bright, chest-deep sound of a ten-year-old who hasn’t yet learned the weight of self-consciousness. That laugh had everything in it: sunshine from earlier in the day, the thrill of breaking unspoken rules, the scratchy sound of rustling attic beams that creaked overhead like slow-moving ships.
$W_HeShe glanced at you, a grin tugging at $W_hisher mouth which showed off $W_hisher adorable, slightly crooked teeth that $W_heshe was usually insecure about. Your laughter had a way of making things feel possible. Even if that possibility meant immortalizing yourselves next to initials that belonged to people long gone.
“All right,” you said, raising your hands in mock defeat. “It’s kinda morbid, but it also sounds pretty cool.”
Neither of you had anything sharp with you so you ended up prying out a rusty nail wedged between a stack of bent aluminum slats and the window ledge. You offered it to $W_himher.
“Want to do the honors?” you asked, and $W_heshe accepted with a nod.</em>
*<em><<link '“W + $MC_firstnameinitial.” And underneath that, $W_heshe added: BEST FRIENDS 5EVER”' "Ch 4.30.1">><</link>></em>/*[[Ch 4.30.1]]*/
*<em><<link '“W + $MC_firstnameinitial” [♥]' "Ch 4.30.2">><<set $W_romance to $W_romance+1>><</link>></em>/*[[Ch 4.30.2]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Uptight, + Arrogant<</notify>><em>You looked around at the attic with your nose wrinkled.
$W_name shot you a look of amusement but you barely noticed. You were too busy brushing imaginary grime off your shirt, your shoes stepping carefully around an empty picture frame and a melted candle stub.
“I mean, I get that they had other things in mind. But would it have been a crime for someone to sweep the floor?” You waved a hand toward the overturned boxes. “If I was involved in any of this somehow, I’d at least make sure there aren’t any cobwebs involved.”
$W_name snorted softly. “You’d be the first ghost to start haunting people just so they’d start redecorating.”
“That’s because I have standards,” you sniffed with a satisfied look.
You didn’t really mean it, at least not all of it. But it felt better to mock the mess than to admit how small it all made you feel.
$W_HeShe turned toward the wall again and looked at the peppered initials on it. $W_HeShe was quiet for a moment, and then $W_heshe said it so casually you almost missed it.
“We should carve ours too.”
You blinked, thinking you'd misheard $W_himher, your hand pausing on the rickety window frame you’d been tracing with a fingertip. “What?”
“Our initials,” $W_heshe repeated, a bit more firmly this time. “Yours and mine. Just for the sake of memories if we ever come back here.” $W_HeShe looked down at $W_hisher sneakers, the sole of one flapping slightly with each step. “Hopefully this place will still be standing by then.”
Your eyebrows shot up, your voice lifting with disbelief. “I thought you were scared of this house. You’re already planning a return trip?”
$W_name shrugged. It was the small, delicate gesture of a $W_boy just a few paces into growing up, trying to put a sentence to something $W_heshe didn’t entirely understand yet.
“One thing I’ve learned after being friends with you,” $W_heshe said, brushing $W_hisher fingers along the wall like $W_heshe was selecting just the right spot, “is that sometimes things are only scary until you experience them yourself.”
You laughed a bright, chest-deep sound of a ten-year-old who hasn’t yet learned the weight of self-consciousness. That laugh had everything in it: sunshine from earlier in the day, the thrill of breaking unspoken rules, the scratchy sound of rustling attic beams that creaked overhead like slow-moving ships.
$W_HeShe glanced at you, a grin tugging at $W_hisher mouth which showed off $W_hisher adorable, slightly crooked teeth that $W_heshe was usually insecure about. Your laughter had a way of making things feel possible. Even if that possibility meant immortalizing yourselves next to initials that belonged to people long gone.
“All right,” you said, raising your hands in mock defeat. “It’s kinda morbid, but it also sounds pretty cool.”
Neither of you had anything sharp with you so you ended up prying out a rusty nail wedged between a stack of bent aluminum slats and the window ledge. You offered it to $W_himher.
“Want to do the honors?” you asked, and $W_heshe accepted with a nod.</em>
*<em><<link '“W + $MC_firstnameinitial.” And underneath that, $W_heshe added: BEST FRIENDS 5EVER”' "Ch 4.30.1">><</link>></em>/*[[Ch 4.30.1]]*/
*<em><<link '“W + $MC_firstnameinitial” [♥]' "Ch 4.30.2">><<set $W_romance to $W_romance+1>><</link>></em>/*[[Ch 4.30.2]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Genuine, + Humble<</notify>><em>You took a step back from the wall, your hands suddenly feeling too full of nothing. The initials were crude, scratched in desperation, some likely with keys or broken glass. You weren’t a religious person—your parents’ aversion to even the concept of it was passed down to you—but this felt like holy ground in the way a burned photo album might be.
So you whispered something akin to a prayer to the best of your capabilities. You weren’t sure what shape the words took, just that they came from your chest instead of your mouth.
$W_name observed your sombre expression, head tilted slightly.
“For all of them,” you said, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. Like your throat wasn’t closing a little. “They deserved better.”
$W_HeShe didn’t say anything, but $W_heshe nodded in understanding as $W_heshe recited a prayer in Hebrew as well.
There was no organ music, no choir of angels. But you regardless hoped that someone, somewhere, had heard you two.
$W_HeShe turned toward the wall again and looked at the peppered initials on it. $W_HeShe was quiet for a moment, and then $W_heshe said it so casually you almost missed it.
“We should carve ours too.”
You blinked, thinking you'd misheard $W_himher, your hand pausing on the rickety window frame you’d been tracing with a fingertip. “What?”
“Our initials,” $W_heshe repeated, a bit more firmly this time. “Yours and mine. Just for the sake of memories if we ever come back here.” $W_HeShe looked down at $W_hisher sneakers, the sole of one flapping slightly with each step. “Hopefully this place will still be standing by then.”
Your eyebrows shot up, your voice lifting with disbelief. “I thought you were scared of this house. You’re already planning a return trip?”
$W_name shrugged. It was the small, delicate gesture of a $W_boy just a few paces into growing up, trying to put a sentence to something $W_heshe didn’t entirely understand yet.
“One thing I’ve learned after being friends with you,” $W_heshe said, brushing $W_hisher fingers along the wall like $W_heshe was selecting just the right spot, “is that sometimes things are only scary until you experience them yourself.”
You laughed a bright, chest-deep sound of a ten-year-old who hasn’t yet learned the weight of self-consciousness. That laugh had everything in it: sunshine from earlier in the day, the thrill of breaking unspoken rules, the scratchy sound of rustling attic beams that creaked overhead like slow-moving ships.
$W_HeShe glanced at you, a grin tugging at $W_hisher mouth which showed off $W_hisher adorable, slightly crooked teeth that $W_heshe was usually insecure about. Your laughter had a way of making things feel possible. Even if that possibility meant immortalizing yourselves next to initials that belonged to people long gone.
“All right,” you said, raising your hands in mock defeat. “It’s kinda morbid, but it also sounds pretty cool.”
Neither of you had anything sharp with you so you ended up prying out a rusty nail wedged between a stack of bent aluminum slats and the window ledge. You offered it to $W_himher.
“Want to do the honors?” you asked, and $W_heshe accepted with a nod.</em>
*<em><<link '“W + $MC_firstnameinitial.” And underneath that, $W_heshe added: BEST FRIENDS 5EVER”' "Ch 4.30.1">><</link>></em>/*[[Ch 4.30.1]]*/
*<em><<link '“W + $MC_firstnameinitial” [♥]' "Ch 4.30.2">><<set $W_romance to $W_romance+1>><</link>></em>/*[[Ch 4.30.2]]*/<em>The grain of the wood resisted $W_himher slightly, but $W_heshe pushed through. When $W_heshe was done, you both stepped back, side by side, gazing at the fresh letters carved among the worn, faded ones.
It was a small thing, really. Just two kids leaving their mark on a place no one wanted to remember. But somehow, it felt like staking a claim on something bigger than both of you. It wasn’t exactly a sense of ‘ownership’ per se, it certainly felt like an acknowledgment. A quiet rejection against being completely forgotten.
In the long silence that followed, the attic sighed with age. But the wind didn’t howl through the broken glass, and the floorboards didn’t groan beneath your feet. The house didn’t feel like it was trying to scare you away. If anything, it almost seemed to nod in approval.
“Welp,” you announced, dusting off your hands dramatically, “we should probably get going before my mom tries to send out a search party.”
But $W_name didn’t move. $W_HeShe stood there, slightly behind you, $W_hisher fingers still holding on to the rusted nail you’d both used like it was a precious relic rather than a piece of trash.
You turned to look at $W_himher, catching the shadow of hesitation on $W_hisher face. $W_HisHer eyes flicked toward you, unsure, before $W_heshe spoke. “Can we stay a bit longer?”
Suffice to say, you were baffled. That wasn’t what you’d expected at all. $W_HeShe had been the one glancing nervously at the stairs earlier, the one whose voice had pitched just slightly higher every time the floor creaked beneath you.
“What gives?” you asked, not unkindly.
$W_HeShe raised a hand and pointed toward the large attic window, the one yawning wide and toothless, where cooling air had been slipping through quietly since $W_heshe’d opened it.
“It’s facing west,” $W_heshe said, and when you followed $W_hisher gaze, you saw $W_heshe was right. “I checked it with my mini compass”—$W_heshe patted $W_hisher left pocket—“and I kind of want to watch the sunset from here. The view’s actually really nice.”
That was an understatement. Even with the broken glass along the sill and the cobwebs adorning the edges of the window, the horizon looked unreal. Orange bled into pink bled into violet, the colors stacked like multi-hued thoughts you could only dream of at night. The sun was melting toward the treeline in a slow, drippy descent. You could see rooftops far in the distance, yards shrinking to patches, trees turned to dull silhouettes.
From here, it really did look like you could see the whole of Rhode Island. Maybe even further, if you squinted hard enough. Of course, it was a lie of scale. Just one of those things your childish imaginations would have you believe because no one had yet taught you not to.</em>
*<em>[[You’d honestly like watching the sunset from here too, but you feared your mom’s wrath more if you didn’t come back to clean your room.|Ch 4.31][$Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious + 3, 0, 100), $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive - 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100)]]</em>
*<em><<link "You wordlessly nodded, joining $W_himher in front of the window overlooking the horizon while dragging the mattress in the corner with you. [♡]" "W Heart Event 1">><<set $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100); $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100); $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100); $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>></em><em>The grain of the wood resisted $W_himher slightly, but $W_heshe pushed through. When $W_heshe was done, you both stepped back, side by side, gazing at the fresh letters carved among the worn, faded ones.
It wasn’t obvious unless you were thinking about it too much, but simply writing your initials like that would give any outsider the impression that you two were one of the many lovers who came here. You didn’t know if $W_heshe did it on purpose, or if $W_heshe was even thinking about it at all (god, why were you feeling such flutterings in your belly?), but you weren’t going to say anything about that.
In the long silence that followed, the attic sighed with age. But the wind didn’t howl through the broken glass, and the floorboards didn’t groan beneath your feet. The house didn’t feel like it was trying to scare you away. If anything, it almost seemed to nod in approval.
“Welp,” you announced, dusting off your hands dramatically, “we should probably get going before my mom tries to send out a search party.”
But $W_name didn’t move. $W_HeShe stood there, slightly behind you, $W_hisher fingers still holding on to the rusted nail you’d both used like it was a precious relic rather than a piece of trash.
You turned to look at $W_himher, catching the shadow of hesitation on $W_hisher face. $W_HisHer eyes flicked toward you, unsure, before $W_heshe spoke. “Can we stay a bit longer?”
Suffice to say, you were baffled. That wasn’t what you’d expected at all. $W_HeShe had been the one glancing nervously at the stairs earlier, the one whose voice had pitched just slightly higher every time the floor creaked beneath you.
“What gives?” you asked, not unkindly.
$W_HeShe raised a hand and pointed toward the large attic window, the one yawning wide and toothless, where cooling air had been slipping through quietly since $W_heshe’d opened it.
“It’s facing west,” $W_heshe said, and when you followed $W_hisher gaze, you saw $W_heshe was right. “I checked it with my mini compass”—$W_heshe patted $W_hisher left pocket—“and I kind of want to watch the sunset from here. The view’s actually really nice.”
That was an understatement. Even with the broken glass along the sill and the cobwebs adorning the edges of the window, the horizon looked unreal. Orange bled into pink bled into violet, the colors stacked like multi-hued thoughts you could only dream of at night. The sun was melting toward the treeline in a slow, drippy descent. You could see rooftops far in the distance, yards shrinking to patches, trees turned to dull silhouettes.
From here, it really did look like you could see the whole of Rhode Island. Maybe even further, if you squinted hard enough. Of course, it was a lie of scale. Just one of those things your childish imaginations would have you believe because no one had yet taught you not to.</em>
*<em>[[You’d honestly like watching the sunset from here too, but you feared your mom’s wrath more if you didn’t come back to clean your room.|Ch 4.31][$Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious + 3, 0, 100), $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive - 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100)]]</em>
*<em><<link "You wordlessly nodded, joining $W_himher in front of the window overlooking the horizon while dragging the mattress in the corner with you. [♡]" "W Heart Event 1">><<set $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100); $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100); $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100); $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>></em><<notify 5s>>+ Cautious, + Uptight<</notify>><em>“I mean,” you said slowly, “the view’s nice and all. But if I don’t get back in time, I’m gonna be grounded until I’m thirty.”
$W_name let out a startled laugh. “She’s that scary, huh?”
“She made a Boy Scout cry once just for tracking mud on the porch,” you said solemnly.
“Fair enough.” $W_HeShe looked back at the sunset with something like longing in $W_hisher face. “We’ll catch the next one then. Promise?”
“I promise,” you said. “Besides, I’m not sure if the view can be as good as it is by the pond.”
“That’s just your bias speaking.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s not true though.”
You then started to playfully bicker as you made your way back down. When you finally stepped foot outside the house, $W_name stole one last glance at the window, and you didn’t miss the way $W_hisher eyes lingered on the last sliver of sun pouring in like $W_heshe was tucking it away for later.
$W_HeShe then wrapped an arm around your shoulder, with you doing the same around $W_hishers, before walking back to your house together.</em>
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.32">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.32]]*/<<audio "WH1" loop play>><<notify 5s>>+ Impulsive, + Laidback<</notify>><em>The mattress made a horrible sound when you dragged it across the attic floor but you kept going until it was wedged in the slant of light spilling in from the western window. It wasn’t much, just a lump of padding with its stuffing half-murdered and springs that had probably given up sometime around the Reagan administration. But it would do.
$W_name watched you with the sort of expression you’d once seen on a dog eyeing an unfamiliar puddle. “Aren’t there any bugs in there?”
You snorted at $W_hisher hypochondriac tendencies while brushing your palms. “I already checked. No bugs, no mold. The thing’s surprisingly clean for something left alone in an attic for all these years.”
$W_HeShe sighed and sat beside you with a resigned thump, shoulders rigid until $W_heshe realized nothing was crawling on $W_himher. $W_HisHer arms slowly relaxed over $W_hisher knobby knees.
There was silence for a while, but it didn’t feel lonely. It felt more like a sheet of sunlight spreading across the floorboards. Outside, the world was being painted over in deepening oranges and fuchsias, the lines of rooftops sharpening to shadows, the telephone wires trembling with the occasional flutter of a bird taking flight. You could see Mrs. Delaney’s flower boxes spilling red over her porch. Mr. Mahdi’s neon pink lawn flamingo. A handful of teens biking past the block with 7-Eleven slurpees and sweaty brows. The warmth of the day was still clinging to the air, but the wind had begun to turn significantly cooler.
“Are you and your mom going anywhere next month?” $W_name asked after a while.
You didn’t look away from the window, but you nodded. “Yeah. She finally booked that trip to Greece.”
$W_HisHer head tilted slightly, interest lighting up $W_hisher face. “The one she’s always talking about?”
“The very same,” you confirmed with a smile, but there was a thread of sadness sewn into it. “She’s been dreaming of going since she was a teenager. You know, the white houses with the blue domes, the sea, the islands. All that stuff she used to paste into her scrapbooks. She wants to show me everything.”
“Sounds like something out of a movie,” $W_name murmured.
“It kind of feels like it. She keeps saying it’s a ‘long overdue trip’ for both of us,” you said while doing air quotes with your fingers. “She’s been saving up to do this for ages, refusing to add in any of the money she gets from dad. But I think a part of her’s just hoping it’ll make up for all the other times of the year we didn’t get except summers.”
$W_HeShe didn’t answer right away. The sky was glowing now, drenched in colors you couldn’t find in a box of Crayola. $W_HeShe glanced at you, then looked away just as quickly. “Your dad’s not coming?”
You shook your head slowly. “He wanted to, but work stuff came up. It gets very busy for him around this time of the year.”
$W_name didn’t seem like $W_heshe was going to say “I’m sorry,” and you were grateful for it. You hated it when people said that. It turned your life into a series of unwanted condolence cards. Besides, you weren’t exactly upset with your dad. Sure, you’d have preferred spending time with both your parents at the same time, but you also didn’t mind that summers were exclusive to your mom. You hardly saw her for the rest of the seasons, it was only natural that you always cherished these three months of solitude you shared with her.
You both leaned back against the wall behind you, watching as the sun folded itself into the line where the sky kissed earth.</em>
<<button "Next" "WH1 1">><</button>>
/*[[WH1 1]]*/<<notify>>Saved!<</notify>><<if hasVisited("WH1 10")>><<audio "WH1" fadeoverto 15 0>><</if>>“$MC_nickname?” the stranger said, and the name had sat in $W_hisher mouth too long, rasped smooth with years of memory. Before you could wonder just how did $W_heshe know you, $W_heshe continued, “it’s me, Elmo.”
The hallway light flickered for a second or two, as if reacting to the tension spooling behind your head. There was a throbbing behind your left eye that flared the longer you looked at $W_himher. But you stared as the name $W_heshe gave you fell flat between you like a missed step on a staircase.
“Elmo,” you repeated slowly. “Did your parents really name you after the red muppet in Sesame Street?”
Whatever hope had lit $W_hisher face guttered out like a candle in the wind. It was subtle, but devastating. The corners of $W_hisher mouth fought to stay lifted, $W_hisher hands flexed a little before they fell to $W_hisher sides.
“No,” $W_heshe said, the Rhodonics prominent now as $W_heshe kept speaking. “That’s just what you used to call me. My name’s $W_name. I’m…” $W_HisHer voice cracked the way worn tape recordings do when played too many times. “I’m really happy to see you again.”
Happy wasn’t the word you’d use. Your thoughts were a complicated mess of frayed ends and weird static. You tried to speak, but it came out stiff and rehearsed: “Nice to meet you. And… thanks for the help earlier, but I– I should head back. I’m not feeling very well right now.”
$W_HisHer expression crumpled just a little more. “Can I see you again? Just to catch up. Talk, maybe.”
You hesitated. The ache in your skull was growing. It was less of a headache now, and more of an insistence pressing against the inside of your mind, trying to push its way out. A voice that didn’t belong to you whispered that maybe you did know $W_himher, but you really didn’t. Nothing about this $W_guy was feasibly familiar except $W_hisher eyes, and even those were probably of someone you’d met briefly in high school or something.
“I don't think we know each other,” you said, gentle but firm. “You must’ve mistaken me for somebody else. But if we live in the same Hall, I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.”
You didn’t wait for $W_hisher reply. You turned and walked away fast enough to feel the cool rush of air behind you. It wasn’t quite running, at least not by definition, but your feet rapidly moved until you’d reached your suite. Once you were safely inside, you made sure the lock was clicked securely in place before beelining for your dorm room.
<div id="centered">[[That was when you let the panic take over.|Ch 4.33]]</div><em>“What are you thinking about?” you asked.
Beside you, $W_name’s fingers were loosely folded in $W_hisher lap, idly picking at a seam in the old mattress.
Then, after a beat: “That the rest of the year’s going to suck without you.”
You smiled in the way that said I know. That kind of smile had been exchanged between the two of you for enough years now that it didn’t need translating.
“I don’t really have anyone like you at school,” you admitted. “I mean, there are other kids. But they’re mostly just…” You searched for the word, “placeholders, I guess. They all talk like they’re reciting something they rehearsed in the mirror. It’s hard to tell if they believe anything they’re saying when they’re usually such...”
“Vapid and spoiled idiots?” $W_name supplied dryly.
“I see you’ve been making use of that thesaurus you got from the Cabreras’ yard sale,” you quipped with a snort. “But you’re not wrong. There’s a handful who aren’t totally unbearable. But even then, I never feel like I actually want to know them. Not the way I know you.”
That made $W_name go quiet again. $W_HeShe simply looked thoughtfully out the window, and you couldn’t tell what $W_heshe was thinking.
You shifted a little closer to $W_himher. “Did you manage to call your parents last Hanukkah?”
Okay, maybe that was the wrong thing to ask judging from the way $W_hisher face slowly dimmed like a light bulb being turned off. “No. I tried, but they didn’t answer. Their assistants did. Told me they were busy.”
“Too busy to even talk to their $W_son?” you asked with a frown. Even your father made sure to spend the holidays with you no matter what.
“My dad had a movie he was pitching,” $W_heshe explained, $W_hisher voice steady but dull. “My mom was preparing a new exhibit in the Louvre. Apparently it was a huge deal.” $W_HeShe didn’t sound too impressed though. “The presents they sent me weren’t even picked by them. I think it was just whatever the assistants thought was trendy for my age.”
You reached over and took $W_hisher hand in yours. It was warm and dry, a little calloused around the fingers from climbing trees and catching $W_himself when $W_heshe fell while running with you. Your touch held firm like a pledge.</em>
*<em>[[“I have a lot of things to say to them,” you said with a huff. “Although I don’t guarantee they’ll be happy to hear them.” [♥]|WH1 2.1][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100), $W_romance to $W_romance+1]]</em>
*<em><<link '“They don’t deserve you,” you told $W_himher, more serious than you’d ever been in your short life. [♥]' "WH1 2.2">><<set $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100); $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100); $Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic + 3, 0, 100); $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional - 3, 0, 100); $W_romance to $W_romance+1>><</link>>/*[[WH1 2.2]]*/</em>
*<em><<link 'You could feel your heart hurting for your best friend. It was hard to even put your frustration into words in regards to $W_hisher dilemma. [♥]' "WH1 2.3">><<set $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100); $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100); $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional + 3, 0, 100); $Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic - 3, 0, 100); $W_romance to $W_romance+1>><</link>>/*[[WH1 2.3]]*/</em><<notify 5s>>+ Sarcastic, + Arrogant<</notify>><em>$W_name let out a small giggle, appreciative of your efforts to cheer $W_himher up. “If it was up to you, we’d probably end up making a documentary about them.”
You cracked a grin. “Hey, if they’re going to give you a lifetime of neglect and trauma, we might as well make a profit off of it somehow.”
$W_HeShe smiled, but the edges of it curled into the remainder of $W_hisher sadness. You nudged $W_hisher knee with yours.
“But seriously though,” you said, eyes back on the sky, “one day, you’re going to become a world-famous filmmaker, and they’ll be begging to be around you again. You’ll get to say no. Or maybe you won’t. But either way, it’ll be your choice. Not theirs.”
“Sure,” $W_heshe said. But $W_hisher eyes didn’t quite meet yours, fixed instead on the narrow sliver of horizon left between the trees and rooftops. Then: “I think the weirdest part is how little I remember them now. It’s like…” $W_HeShe trailed off, frowning as if $W_heshe was trying to pull a memory that $W_heshe’d never been a part of. “Like they were never really there to begin with. Just shapes in the background of my mind. They left when I was three so that probably explains why. For a long time, I didn’t even remember what their voices sounded like until I saw their interviews. And every year that passes, I want to know them less.”
You squeezed $W_hisher hand a little tighter.
“I used to think something was wrong with me,” $W_heshe went on, $W_hisher voice petering down to almost a whisper. “Like they should want me. Like I should fight harder to get their attention. But it’s getting harder to care. Easier to let them be strangers who I won’t look twice at while crossing the street.”
“But it’s alright,” $W_heshe added after a long pause, “I’ve got my aunt. For all her frustrated outbursts and broken sleeping schedule and mediocre cooking skills, she tries. She really, really tries. And my uncle…” $W_heshe glanced away. “You know he used to be different. Before the gambling. He was the one who taught me how to swim and handle a camera. He’s the reason why I want to start fixing cars one day as a hobby. He still tries sometimes. Small things like changing the batteries in my night light. Or when he leaves me the last Dr Pepper in the fridge.”
$W_HeShe looked at you then, and there was something resolute in the twist of $W_hisher mouth. “I think I’d rather keep the people who give me something, even if it’s not a lot. Especially when they don’t even have much for themselves. That means more to me than whatever my parents could buy.”
You nodded, even though you couldn’t fully ever understand how $W_heshe felt. You simply held on to $W_himher, hoping that your presence could fill in all the places where love had been an absent tenant for too long.</em>
<<button "Next" "WH1 POV">><</button>>
/*[[WH1 POV]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Genuine, + Pragmatic<</notify>><em>“You mean that?” $W_heshe asked, voice small and unsure.
“Yeah,” you said. “I do.”
The wind breathed in through the open window, rustling some brittle paper in the corner.
“I don’t care if they have careers or assistants or fancy lives in other countries,” you went on. “You’re worth a thousand of them combined. Maybe you can even send them matching pairs of “WORST PARENTS EVER” sweaters this Christmas.”
$W_HeShe smiled, but the edges of it curled into the remainder of $W_hisher sadness. You nudged $W_hisher knee with yours.
“But seriously though,” you said, eyes back on the sky, “one day, you’re going to become a world-famous filmmaker, and they’ll be begging to be around you again. You’ll get to say no. Or maybe you won’t. But either way, it’ll be your choice. Not theirs.”
“Sure,” $W_heshe said. But $W_hisher eyes didn’t quite meet yours, fixed instead on the narrow sliver of horizon left between the trees and rooftops. Then: “I think the weirdest part is how little I remember them now. It’s like…” $W_HeShe trailed off, frowning as if $W_heshe was trying to pull a memory that $W_heshe’d never been a part of. “Like they were never really there to begin with. Just shapes in the background. They left when I was three so that probably explains why. For a long time, I didn’t even remember what their voices sounded like until I saw their interviews. And every year that passes, I want to know them less.”
You squeezed $W_hisher hand a little tighter.
“I used to think something was wrong with me,” $W_heshe went on, $W_hisher voice petering down to almost a whisper. “Like they should want me. Like I should fight harder to get their attention. But it’s getting harder to care. Easier to let them be strangers who I won’t look twice at while crossing the street.”
“But it’s alright,” $W_heshe added after a long pause, “I’ve got my aunt. For all her frustrated outbursts and broken sleeping schedule and mediocre cooking skills, she tries. She really, really tries. And my uncle…” $W_heshe glanced away. “You know he used to be different. Before the gambling. He was the one who taught me how to swim and handle a camera. He’s the reason why I want to start fixing cars one day as a hobby. He still tries sometimes. Small things like changing the batteries in my night light. Or when he leaves me the last Dr Pepper in the fridge.”
$W_HeShe looked at you then, and there was something resolute in the twist of $W_hisher mouth. “I think I’d rather keep the people who give me something, even if it’s not a lot. Especially when they don’t even have much for themselves. That means more to me than whatever my parents could buy.”
You nodded, even though you couldn’t fully ever understand how $W_heshe felt. You simply held on to $W_himher, hoping that your presence could fill in all the places where love had been an absent tenant for too long.</em>
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/*[[WH1 POV]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Aloof, + Emotional<</notify>><em>It sat in your chest like a stone dropped into a deep well. You didn’t know what to say. Or maybe there were too many things, and you couldn’t choose which one was big enough to hold it all.
$W_name deserved more. That much you knew. More attention, more warmth, more memories with parents who didn’t just exist in distant time zones and well-worded emails. And it wasn’t fair that someone as thoughtful and soft-hearted as $W_heshe had to grow up learning how to make peace with being unwanted.
You swallowed around the lump in your throat and said what was probably the biggest truth you could say at the moment: “I’ll always be here.”
$W_name gave you a grateful look, as if $W_heshe knew exactly what you were trying to do. Maybe $W_heshe didn’t need the words anyway, but $W_heshe appreciated it all the same.
“I think the weirdest part is how little I remember them now. It’s like…” $W_HeShe trailed off, frowning as if $W_heshe was trying to pull a memory that $W_heshe’d never been a part of. “Like they were never really there to begin with. Just shapes in the background. They left when I was three so that probably explains why. For a long time, I didn’t even remember what their voices sounded like until I saw their interviews. And every year that passes, I want to know them less.”
You squeezed $W_hisher hand a little tighter.
“I used to think something was wrong with me,” $W_heshe went on, $W_hisher voice petering down to almost a whisper. “Like they should want me. Like I should fight harder to get their attention. But it’s getting harder to care. Easier to let them be strangers who I won’t look twice at while crossing the street.”
“But it’s alright,” $W_heshe added after a long pause, “I’ve got my aunt. For all her frustrated outbursts and broken sleeping schedule and mediocre cooking skills, she tries. She really, really tries. And my uncle…” $W_heshe glanced away. “You know he used to be different. Before the gambling. He was the one who taught me how to swim and handle a camera. He’s the reason why I want to start fixing cars one day as a hobby. He still tries sometimes. Small things like changing the batteries in my night light. Or when he leaves me the last Dr Pepper in the fridge.”
$W_HeShe looked at you then, and there was something resolute in the twist of $W_hisher mouth. “I think I’d rather keep the people who give me something, even if it’s not a lot. Especially when they don’t even have much for themselves. That means more to me than whatever my parents could buy.”
You nodded, even though you couldn’t fully ever understand how $W_heshe felt. You simply held on to $W_himher, hoping that your presence could fill in all the places where love had been an absent tenant for too long.</em>
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/*[[WH1 POV]]*/<em><strong><u>$W_name’s POV</u></strong></em>
<em>$W_name felt it in $W_hisher chest first. A pressure behind $W_hisher ribs that reminded $W_himher of thunderclouds you couldn’t see yet but knew were coming. The ache of goodbye, curling itself around the corners of $W_hisher lungs even though August hadn’t even arrived yet. You were still here.
But soon you’d be gone. Back to Seattle, back to a house big enough to get lost in, back to your ‘friends’ who wore uniforms that cost more than what Sibylle made in a week. Back to your extracurriculars and private school and a father who’d welcome you back with open arms and make sure every piece of your life was carved perfectly with no lack of anything.
And $W_name? $W_HeShe’d stay here in a house with ceiling water stains like cloud maps and a refrigerator that cried when it opened. With an uncle who’d gamble himself to crippling debt instead of finding work and an aunt whose love came in exhausted sighs and sore feet after a double shift for her third job.
$W_HeShe didn’t resent you. That was perhaps the strangest part. $W_HeShe could’ve. Anyone would’ve understood if $W_heshe did. But melancholy wasn’t the same thing as resentment. Melancholy was the way $W_hisher chest tensed up when you talked about spending holidays in a different country, the way $W_hisher throat closed when you mentioned tutors who helped you be fluent in multiple languages even though you were only ten. It wasn’t a bitter feeling. You didn’t choose any of it, just like $W_heshe hadn’t chosen to be born to parents who considered $W_himher an inconvenience to be delegated.
You were still $W_hisher best friend. That mattered more than any fancy trips abroad or sprawling estate with a koi pond in the garden.
The feeling $W_heshe had in the moment—this breathless tug in $W_hisher chest—was the sorrow of weeks from now, arriving early. It was knowing $W_heshe’d return to the swingset alone. To the scoffing glances of $W_hisher classmates with church-clean shirts and scuffed-up shoes that still somehow looked new for the school year. $W_HeShe’d be just another $W_boy in last season’s jeans, a phantom trudging through the days until the calendar flipped back to June and the familiar bus that carried you from the airport in Warwick to Providence would honk its arrival on Elmwood Avenue.</em>
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/*[[WH1 4]]*/<em>Sibylle always said that her $W_nephew was a lonely $W_boy. She never said it with cruelty. It was just a fact, like saying the grass was overgrown or that Tomasz had forgotten to fill up the gas in the car again. Not that it wasn’t true. $W_name was lonely. But not when you were here as you swam in the Mashapaug Pond together, imitated characters from Scooby-Doo, handed $W_himher the Wii controller like you’d never cared who won, so long as $W_heshe got to choose Yoshi first.
There were so many versions of you, and $W_heshe knew most people only ever got the one: the distant one, the untouchable prodigy trimmed neatly by a schedule of your future goals. That you was glossy, a paper $MC_boy wrapped in gold foil. $W_HeShe liked that you too, in the way people like observing space through a telescope. But this version of you, the one sitting beside $W_himher now with your knees scraped from a fall you had around a fortnight ago and a smudge of attic soot on your cheek, this was the real one. The untamed, unedited you. And $W_heshe was smart enough to know it wasn’t a version you gave to many people.
Sometimes $W_heshe wondered what unlocked it. Was it the neighborhood and the way its sidewalks always felt a little too empty? Was it the comforting drag of routine summer days with your loving and doting mother, the woman who looked at you like the heavens had personally blessed her with the existence of you? Or—God help $W_himher for even daring to think of the possibility—was it $W_himher? Was $W_heshe part of this freedom you felt here?
Perhaps not, and $W_heshe wouldn’t ask you about it anyway. $W_HeShe was just lucky enough to be caught in the direction of it. Maybe it also wouldn’t matter if you burned bright elsewhere and experienced an unbridled sense of solace there too, so long as $W_heshe got these brief, incandescent months when you let yourself be more than what the rest of the world demanded from you.
You were rain for the ones who never knew you well, soft and passing without lingering in places you found were unworthy of your interest. But for the ones you loved, for the ones you let into that storm-sheltered heart of yours? You were a hurricane.
And $W_name—for all the bravery that $W_heshe didn’t have the advantage of ever hoping to possess on $W_hisher own—would’ve soaked $W_himself bone-deep in that hurricane for a hundred summers and never asked to come inside. Because this, all of it, was the greatest privilege of $W_hisher young, lonesome life.</em>
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/*[[WH1 5]]*/<em>“You’ll take plenty of pictures in Greece, right?” $W_name asked tentatively.
You gave a quick nod, grinning. “Of course. I’ll make my mom the designated camerawoman if I’m too busy being seasick or something. Which I probably will be. I’ll show you everything. Every temple, every beach, every weird snack I try.”
“Even the gross ones?”
“Especially the gross ones.”
$W_name laughed jovially at that, tipping $W_hisher head against the splintered wall behind $W_himher. Soon, your laughter joined in and the room echoed with the sound of your shared joy.
$W_HeShe managed to calm $W_himself down enough that $W_heshe noticed the light catching in your $MC_haircolor hair, softening you, turning you into something that looked almost like a dream-memory: all knees and growing limbs, starry $MC_eyecolor eyes and blinding smiles.
$W_name was struck speechless for a while before $W_heshe heard you speak up, without thinking, because it felt natural in the way that true things do, “Maybe we can go together someday. When we’re all grown up.”
There was a long pause before $W_heshe answered. “Yeah. That sounds really nice.”
And it did sound nice. It sounded better than nice. It sounded like attainability. Like some faraway future carved out of this strange friendship between a lonely, drizzle of a $W_boy and a whirlwind, hurricane of a $MC_boy who talked too much, thought too deeply, and had the inherent ability to love the people $heshe cared about in ways specific to each individual.
$W_name couldn’t imagine what kind of people you’d both become in the future, but $W_heshe liked to think you’d still be best friends. That $W_heshe’d still be your Elmo and you’d be $W_hisher $MC_nickname.
“Do you want to travel the whole world? You seem really hyped about this trip,” $W_name asked.</em>
*<em><<link "“Hell yeah, I'm hyped. Mom never shuts up about it and I'm always eager to see new places.” [♥]" "WH1 6.1">><<set $Extrovert to Math.clamp($Extrovert + 3, 0, 100); $Introvert to Math.clamp($Introvert - 3, 0, 100); $Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist + 3, 0, 100); $Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist - 3, 0, 100); $W_romance to $W_romance+1>><</link>></em>
*<em><<link "“In a way, yes. I think I'm mainly happy to just spend some time with Mom, but I'd rather stay home than travel the world.” [♥]" "WH1 6.2">><<set $Introvert to Math.clamp($Introvert + 3, 0, 100); $Extrovert to Math.clamp($Extrovert - 3, 0, 100); $Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist + 3, 0, 100); $Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist - 3, 0, 100); $W_romance to $W_romance+1>><</link>></em><<notify 5s>>+ Extrovert, + Optimist<</notify>><em>“I think half of my life has been her trying to plant this travel bug in my brain, and honestly? It worked. I want to see places where no one knows who I am. I want to try candy in Japan that I can’t even pronounce. I want to ride a gondola and complain about how expensive it is and then secretly love every second of it.”
$W_name felt a quiet smile blooming on $W_hisher face as you ranted with enthusiasm.
“I want to collect ticket stubs and menus and weird souvenirs no one else understands,” you added. “I want to be everywhere before I grow old enough to get boring and grumpy.”
“Pretty sure you’ll never be boring,” $W_name said, trying to tame the rising of $W_hisher heartbeat when you bumped your shoulder into $W_hishers and gave $W_himher another dazzling smile.
“Maybe I’d end up settling down in my dad’s estate when I’m older,” you said, matter-of-factly. “Or maybe I’ll move out and live somewhere else.” You glanced down, voice losing some of its confidence. “Maybe even in Providence?”
$W_name was surprised, and in that small, staggering moment, every part of $W_himher went warm. It was nothing like the sunburn $W_heshe’d experienced earlier today, but rather the sort that made $W_himher wonder if $W_hisher heart was just a lamp that had accidentally been turned on too bright.
“That’d be good,” $W_heshe said, trying to keep it cool, trying to pretend $W_hisher ears weren’t pink and $W_hisher voice wasn’t two octaves too soft. “Since, you know, you’d be near your mom and all that.”
“And you,” you clarified, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Unless you plan on moving out of state.”
$W_name didn’t say what $W_heshe wanted to. $W_HeShe didn’t say that there was no random dot on any map that would be home if you weren’t there. $W_HeShe didn’t say that $W_heshe’d follow you to the moon if you asked, if only to have you point at constellations and tell $W_himher stories you made up on the spot. But that sort of territory felt too forward and perplexing for now. So instead, $W_heshe gave you a small shrug, then lifted $W_hisher chin in thought.
<div id="centered"><<link "“Nebraska,” $W_heshe said." "WH1 7">><</link>></div></em>
<<notify 5s>>+ Introvert, + Pessimist<</notify>><em>You picked at a scratch on the floorboards with the heel of your shoe. “All those places people gush about—Rome, Rio, Bangkok—I know they’re beautiful, but sometimes I think I’d rather just… stay in one place and learn everything about it. All the secret corners. All the stories in the bricks. It feels safer that way, y’know?”
$W_name nodded, and $W_heshe’d be lying if $W_heshe said $W_heshe didn’t completely relate to what you were talking about. Comfort in familiarity, and all that jazz.
“Sometimes I think the world might be too big for me,” you confessed. “Like I might get lost in it before I get to understand it.”
“I feel the same way as you,” $W_name assured you. “I don’t want to chase something that’ll just make me feel smaller either.”
Your fingers traced shapes on $W_hisher wrist as you smiled at $W_himher, oblivious to the fact that your actions were causing $W_hisher heartbeat to rise with each passing second.
“Maybe I’d end up settling down in my dad’s estate when I’m older,” you said, matter-of-factly. “Or maybe I’ll move out and live somewhere else.” You glanced down, voice losing some of its confidence. “Maybe even in Providence?”
$W_name was surprised, and in that small, staggering moment, every part of $W_himher went warm. It was nothing like the sunburn $W_heshe’d experienced earlier today, but rather the sort that made $W_himher wonder if $W_hisher heart was just a lamp that had accidentally been turned on too bright.
“That’d be good,” $W_heshe said, trying to keep it cool, trying to pretend $W_hisher ears weren’t pink and $W_hisher voice wasn’t two octaves too soft. “Since, you know, you’d be near your mom and all that.”
“And you,” you clarified, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Unless you plan on moving out of state.”
$W_name didn’t say what $W_heshe wanted to. $W_HeShe didn’t say that there was no random dot on any map that would be home if you weren’t there. $W_HeShe didn’t say that $W_heshe’d follow you to the moon if you asked, if only to have you point at constellations and tell $W_himher stories you made up on the spot. But that sort of territory felt too forward and perplexing for now. So instead, $W_heshe gave you a small shrug, then lifted $W_hisher chin in thought.
<div id="centered"><<link "“Nebraska,” $W_heshe said." "WH1 7">><</link>></div></em><em>You blinked. There was a moment of stunned silence. Then, “What the hell is in Nebraska?”
$W_HeShe smiled as though $W_heshe’d been waiting for someone to ask it in exactly that tone for a long time.
“Nothing. And that’s the point.” $W_HeShe shifted on $W_hisher seat and closed $W_hisher eyes. “It’s smack dab in the center of the country. I bet that if you stood in just the right field, you could probably spin around and feel like you were seeing all of America at once. North, south, coast to coast. Everything stretching out in every direction. It’s the closest thing I can imagine to standing on the axis of the world.”
You were still looking at $W_himher as though $W_heshe’d been speaking in riddles this whole time. Maybe $W_heshe had. Either way, $W_heshe wasn’t done.
“It’s quiet,” $W_name continued, still seeing it all in $W_hisher mind’s eye. “And it’s so… open. Miles and miles of sky, like it’s pressing down just to hold you. And cornfields, obviously. I’d see them on the pretty postcards in my school’s library! Rows of green and gold that go on forever, like a maze for harvest gods.”
You tilted your head, and $W_heshe opened $W_hisher eyes to see the beginning of understanding flicker behind your eyes.
“I used to imagine running away there when my uncle and aunt would start yelling at each other again,” $W_heshe admitted with a sigh. “I’d keep going until all I could hear was the wind in the fields and my own breath. I’d think about living in this nice house with the person I loved. There’d be no nosy neighbors. No fights. No doors slamming. I think it’s the only place that ever made sense in my head. If there is a heaven on earth, for me it’d look a lot like Nebraska in the fall.”</em>
<<button "Next" "WH1 8">><</button>>
/*[[WH1 8]]*/<em>You cleared your throat like you were trying to push a pebble out of your windpipe.
$W_name had never seen you this nervous before. It made $W_himher want to reach out for that clumsy, awkward gesture $W_heshe usually didn’t initiate first. A hug. That’s what $W_hisher arms itched to do, wrap around you like $W_heshe’d seen people do in the movies when a character needed comfort. But $W_heshe stopped $W_himself because that might make you feel worse.
“Until you meet this special someone you’ve been talking about,” you said, trying hard to sound lighthearted despite the fine crack running through your voice, “am I allowed to join you in this private heaven of yours?”
The question struck $W_himher with a gentle hilarity. You were asking as if you didn’t have a clue what exactly you meant to $W_himher. As if you weren’t already the stars in that wide Nebraska sky $W_heshe dreamed about at night, the whole reason the field was worth standing in at all.
You already live there with me, $W_heshe thought, and it was so true and so final that $W_heshe was afraid of saying it out loud and making you run away from $W_himher. It felt too fragile to put into words anyway, like blowing too hard on a dandelion and watching the whole thing fly away.
So to not ruin anything, $W_heshe just said, quietly, “Of course.”
Something in your expression melted then, a worry line disappearing like fog burned off by the morning sun.</em>
*<em><<link "Slowly, you leaned over and gently rested your head on $W_name’s shoulder. [♥]" "WH1 9.1">><<set $W_romance to $W_romance+1>><</link>>/*[[WH1 9.1]]*/</em>
*<em><<link "After a brief moment of contemplation, $W_name rested $W_hisher head on your shoulder. [♥]" "WH1 9.2">><<set $W_romance to $W_romance+1>><</link>>/*[[WH1 9.2]]*/</em><em>$W_HeShe went stiff as a board. $W_HisHer spine snapped straight like a ruler, and $W_hisher breath stopped mid-sentence. The heat in $W_hisher chest surged and $W_hisher pulse slammed so loudly in $W_hisher ears that $W_heshe was half-worried that you’d hear it and laugh. But if you did notice any of that, you didn’t say anything.
And so, with that unspoken reassurance, $W_name dared to breathe deep. $W_HeShe inhaled, and $W_heshe felt like $W_heshe was taking in more of you with each breath. Your scent—lavender and citrus and fabric softener—filled $W_himher up like smoke in a bottle, and on the exhale, $W_heshe let go of all the fear that had clung to $W_hisher soul for years. $W_HeShe slowly, almost timidly, lifted $W_hisher arm and wrapped it around your shoulder.
The world felt like it had tilted slightly when $W_heshe did so.
There was always a longing in $W_hisher chest that had no real shape, just this wide, aching presence that lived there all the time. How miserable it was to be $W_himher sometimes. To want something so badly and not be brave enough to say it. To live every minute wondering if somebody like you could ever feel the same way about $W_himher as $W_heshe did about you.
But at the moment, it didn’t hurt as much. In fact, it made the misery feel worth it. It made being $W_himher—awkward, faint-hearted, quiet $W_himher—feel like the best thing that could’ve happened. Because being $W_himher meant knowing you. Meant feeling your warmth against $W_himher.</em>
<<button "Next" "WH1 10">><</button>>
/*[[WH1 10]]*/<em>$W_HeShe tried to stay completely still there. It seemed like every muscle in $W_hisher body was suddenly absurdly aware of itself. $W_HeShe could feel the heat rise like a tide; flooding $W_hisher chest, $W_hisher face, and the tips of $W_hisher ears from the sheer gall of $W_hisher actions. $W_HisHer heartbeat began galloping, reckless and way too loud.
$W_HeShe forced $W_hisher breath to steady, one trembling breath at a time. Then, very carefully (like it might scare $W_himher if you moved too fast) you wrapped your arm around $W_hisher gangly frame. You tried to be casual about it, but your touch was soothing and reassuring.
And so, with each inhale $W_heshe felt like $W_heshe was taking in more of you with each breath. Your scent—lavender and citrus and fabric softener—filled $W_himher up like smoke in a bottle. On the exhale, $W_heshe ended up letting go of all the fear that had clung to $W_hisher soul for years.
How miserable it was to be $W_himher sometimes. To want something so badly and not be brave enough to say it. To live every minute wondering if somebody like you could ever feel the same way about $W_himher as $W_heshe did about you.
But in this moment, with your warmth pressed against $W_himher and your touch gentle against the soft strands of $W_hisher hair? It made the misery feel worth it. It made being $W_name—awkward, faint-hearted, quiet $W_name—feel like the best thing that could’ve happened. Because being $W_himher meant knowing you. Meant feeling you next to $W_himher.</em>
<<button "Next" "WH1 10">><</button>>
/*[[WH1 10]]*/<em>$W_HeShe loved you. That much was clear, even if $W_heshe didn’t know what that kind of love meant yet. It wasn’t the sort that waited for Valentine’s cards or required fancy words, because it was whole on its own. It was the kind of love that felt like knowing another being in your bones, like reading a book so many times that you end up memorizing just how many creases were in specific pages.
$W_name Ostendorf was in love with you in a way that no one had ever taught $W_himher was possible; fully, tenderly, without condition.
In $W_hisher dreams, which were often too loud and too frightening to make sense of, filled with faceless people and rooms that led nowhere, you were the only constant. You were the soft-glow star that never died out. When $W_heshe woke up from these strange dreams in tears, it was your voice that calmed $W_himher down so $W_heshe could sleep, that included the recordings you made for $W_himher to listen to when you weren’t there.
$MC_firstname, $W_heshe thought. $MC_firstname. $MC_firstname. Each repetition synchronized with the ticks of $W_hisher Timex inside $W_hisher mind.
Then you whispered something to $W_himher under your breath: </em><<hovertip '[<em>Latin</em>] Most beloved'>>“Dilectissimus.”<</hovertip>><em>
The word curled snugly in the space of the attic. Latin, $W_name guessed. $W_HeShe didn’t even know what the word meant, but it made $W_himher smile anyway. If the current situation had been different, $W_heshe’d have playfully commented about you showing off the fancy words you’d learned from your language tutors.
Instead, $W_heshe leaned further into you, if that was possible. And then, with all the devotion $W_heshe could muster in $W_himself, $W_heshe turned $W_hisher eyes skyward and whispered only one word to the God $W_heshe knew: </em><<hovertip '[<em>Hebrew</em>] Please'>>בְּבַקָּשָׁה<</hovertip>>.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.32">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.32]]*/It rolled over you like a freight train; sound and breath vanishing beneath a tidal wave of uneasiness. Your pulse clawed against your throat, and everything outside your room may as well have disappeared. You stripped off your clothes without thinking, they were way too heavy, too hot, like they were the reason it all felt wrong. Every move was frantic, robotic. You barely remembered opening the bathroom door.
The cold water soon hit your skin, and you didn’t even bother waiting for it to get hotter. You stood beneath it in silence, jaw clenched, shoulders locked. The tiles behind your back were unforgivingly nippy, but you let the chill work its way through your skull, down your spine, into your lungs.
You ended up shutting your eyes at some point. It felt better that way. The world narrowed to water and tile and the stabbing pain splitting your mind into pieces.
It got worse before it got better.
There was a brief flash. Something seared in the deepest part of your memory, then pulled away before it could burn fully. A child’s voice. A rusty swing set. A smile you couldn’t place but which made your chest cave in. It was there, and then it was gone.
You stayed in the shower until the cold no longer shocked you, until your skin felt separate from your body. You mindlessly scrubbed shampoo into your scalp in a vain hope that it might scratch something loose from your brain.
The pain eased eventually. Your pulse slowed. The world knit itself back together in ragged patches.
You dried off without much care and pulled on some clean undergarments, not bothering with the rest of your sleepwear. You dropped into bed like you were falling into the earth itself, sheets cool beneath your damp skin.
The dreams that followed dug into you and pulled you in before you could feel completely at peace.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.34">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.34]]*/<em>The woods around you do little to comfort you as you walk through it. The trees are tall and bone-thin, their branches curling like fingers skyward, clawing at a sky you cannot properly see through the thick leaves. There is no birdsong. No rustle of squirrels. No chirr of cicadas. Not even the buzz of a fly. Nothing stirs. The stillness is uncanny and chilling enough to make you shiver.
The only sound you can make out is the steady, wet thump of your bare feet against the mossy, drenched ground. Moisture slicks the bark of every tree, beads glistening like cold sweat. The air is soaked with the smell of wet earth and a scent that is both metallic and sweet. It should feel peaceful like the aftermath of rain always does, but there’s something wrong in the marrow of the silence. Some nameless thing tightening around your stomach in the shape of a cold fist.
You walk on forward.
The forest doesn’t change. Every tree is the same tree. Every step feels stolen from a day that’s looping back on itself. Hunger like nothing you’ve ever experienced scratches inside you and begs for relief. It is a need reminiscent of teeth gnashing from the inside out.
That is when you see a shape on the ground and halt.
<div id="centered">[[It’s a goat.|Ch 4.35]]</div></em>
<em>A wild goat with shaggy fur, which was a mixture of grays and whites, laid against the green of the forest floor. Its belly is torn open in a way that looks more like a doorway than a wound. The flesh seemed to have been pulled apart by hands that were searching for something.
Blood soaks the soil beneath it in a dark puddle, and its breath comes shallow and sharp. It’s still alive. Its eyes—those strange, horizontal golden slits—lock with yours. They look too intelligent to belong to a mere animal.</em>
*<em>[[Your heart aches as you try to reach out to provide it some comfort.|Ch 4.36.1][$Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100), $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100), $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional + 3, 0, 100), $Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic - 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100)]]</em>
*<em>[[You sigh as you look around for something that would put the poor thing out of its misery.|Ch 4.36.2][$Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic + 3, 0, 100), $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional - 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic- 3, 0, 100)]]</em>
*<em>[[Something about all of this doesn’t feel right. You try to step back and keep your distance from the goat.|Ch 4.36.3][$Intuitive to Math.clamp($Intuitive + 3, 0, 100), $Strategic to Math.clamp($Strategic - 3, 0, 100), $Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist + 3, 0, 100), $Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist - 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100)]]</em>
*<<link "<em>Oh hell no, it looks like it’s creepy o’clock here and you’re </em>not<em> going anywhere near that beast.</em>" "Ch 4.36.4">><<set $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious + 3, 0, 100); $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive - 3, 0, 100); $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100); $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100); $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100); $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.36.4]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Impulsive, + Emotional
+ Friendly<</notify>><em>Your hands move before you can think it through. You reach forward, only knowing that something inside you needs to help. Or maybe to understand.
But the moment your fingertips touch the edge of the wound, it shifts. No longer a gesture of mercy from your dream version, it turns into something cruel.
Your fingers sink in and dig. The process isn’t gentle, nor is it pretty.
You watch, helpless, as your dream-self tears into the animal’s open belly with a feverish sort of want. Its blood slips between your fingers. Viscera squelches beneath your nails. You are elbow-deep in horrifying gore that makes you retch. Your body moves without your permission, and the goat bleats. Weak, high, mournful. Its legs twitch like it’s trying to run, trying to leave its very body.
You scream to yourself. Try to pull yourself back. But your dream-self doesn’t hear you, neither does it care.
You—$heshe—pull<<s>> out a fistful of meat, glistening and red and steaming in the cold air.
You shove it into your mouth.
You chew and chew.
You do not taste it, but your dream-self does. And $heshe smile<<s>> with $hisher mouth full, face smeared with blood, expression soft and delirious. Like $heshe <<are>> eating something sacred.
“Stop,” you whisper, but it comes out silent. A featherless bird crushed in your throat even as you know your tongue formed the words.
And just when you think it can’t get worse—just when you think your dream-self will finally stop this ferity—the goat lets out one last, desperate sound, and you spot it.
<div id="centered">[[The heart which was still beating faintly.|Ch 4.37]]</div></em>
<<notify 5s>>+ Pragmatic, + Aloof
+ Genuine<</notify>><em>You spot a decent-sized rock in the distance. But before you can walk towards it to see if it’d be sufficient, your hands are automatically reaching for the goat.
But the moment your fingertips touch the edge of the wound, it shifts. No longer a gesture of mercy from your dream version, it turns into something cruel.
Your fingers sink in and dig. The process isn’t gentle, nor is it pretty.
You watch, helpless, as your dream-self tears into the animal’s open belly with a feverish sort of want. Its blood slips between your fingers. Viscera squelches beneath your nails. You are elbow-deep in horrifying gore that makes you retch. Your body moves without your permission, and the goat bleats. Weak, high, mournful. Its legs twitch like it’s trying to run, trying to leave its very body.
You scream to yourself. Try to pull yourself back. But your dream-self doesn’t hear you, neither does it care.
You—$heshe—pull<<s>> out a fistful of meat, glistening and red and steaming in the cold air.
You shove it into your mouth.
You chew and chew.
You do not taste it, but your dream-self does. And $heshe smile<<s>> with $hisher mouth full, face smeared with blood, expression soft and delirious. Like $heshe <<are>> eating something sacred.
“Stop,” you whisper, but it comes out silent. A featherless bird crushed in your throat even as you know your tongue formed the words.
And just when you think it can’t get worse—just when you think your dream-self will finally stop this ferity—the goat lets out one last, desperate sound, and you spot it.
<div id="centered">[[The heart which was still beating faintly.|Ch 4.37]]</div></em>
<<notify 5s>>+ Intuitive, + Pessimist
+ Uptight<</notify>><em>Your intuition is screaming at you to just walk away. However, you can barely take a step back before your hands are automatically reaching for the goat.
But the moment your fingertips touch the edge of the wound, it shifts. No longer a gesture of curiosity from your dream version, it turns into something cruel.
Your fingers sink in and dig. The process isn’t gentle, nor is it pretty.
You watch, helpless, as your dream-self tears into the animal’s open belly with a feverish sort of want. Its blood slips between your fingers. Viscera squelches beneath your nails. You are elbow-deep in horrifying gore that makes you retch. Your body moves without your permission, and the goat bleats. Weak, high, mournful. Its legs twitch like it’s trying to run, trying to leave its very body.
You scream to yourself. Try to pull yourself back. But your dream-self doesn’t hear you, neither does it care.
You—$heshe—pull<<s>> out a fistful of meat, glistening and red and steaming in the cold air.
You shove it into your mouth.
You chew and chew.
You do not taste it, but your dream-self does. And $heshe smile<<s>> with $hisher mouth full, face smeared with blood, expression soft and delirious. Like $heshe <<are>> eating something sacred.
“Stop,” you whisper, but it comes out silent. A featherless bird crushed in your throat even as you know your tongue formed the words.
And just when you think it can’t get worse—just when you think your dream-self will finally stop this ferity—the goat lets out one last, desperate sound, and you spot it.
<div id="centered">[[The heart which was still beating faintly.|Ch 4.37]]</div></em>
<<notify 5s>>+ Cautious, + Sarcastic
+ Arrogant<</notify>><em>You aren’t about to die horribly in the woods like a horror movie cliché. As you’re muttering to yourself about how you’ll definitely get blood on yourself too if you tried to be a savior, your hands start automatically reaching for the goat.
But the moment your fingertips touch the edge of the wound, it shifts. No longer a gesture of curiosity from your dream version, it turns into something cruel.
Your fingers sink in and dig. The process isn’t gentle, nor is it pretty.
You watch, helpless, as your dream-self tears into the animal’s open belly with a feverish sort of want. Its blood slips between your fingers. Viscera squelches beneath your nails. You are elbow-deep in horrifying gore that makes you retch. Your body moves without your permission, and the goat bleats. Weak, high, mournful. Its legs twitch like it’s trying to run, trying to leave its very body.
You scream to yourself. Try to pull yourself back. But your dream-self doesn’t hear you, neither does it care.
You—$heshe—pull<<s>> out a fistful of meat, glistening and red and steaming in the cold air.
You shove it into your mouth.
You chew and chew.
You do not taste it, but your dream-self does. And $heshe smile<<s>> with $hisher mouth full, face smeared with blood, expression soft and delirious. Like $heshe <<are>> eating something sacred.
“Stop,” you whisper, but it comes out silent. A featherless bird crushed in your throat even as you know your tongue formed the words.
And just when you think it can’t get worse—just when you think your dream-self will finally stop this ferity—the goat lets out one last, desperate sound, and you spot it.
<div id="centered">[[The heart which was still beating faintly.|Ch 4.37]]</div></em>
<em>Your hand reaches for it. You scream inside yourself. Your consciousness thrashes in your body, a storm against a windowpane.
“NO!” you try to yell with all your might. But $heshe <<if $plural is true>>don’t<<else>>doesn't<</if>> stop.
With a wet, savage sound, your dream-self yanks the heart free. Blood sprays in a perfect arc. It is steaming in the cold. The goat's body arches in one last shudder before going motionless, eyes still open and golden.
You clutch the heart in your hand. It is still beating.
You are left with the weight of it pulsing in your palm in the silence. The trees seem to lean in. Not even a rogue gust of wind disturbs the stillness of the moment.
Then in the distance, piercing through the quiet in a voice that grows louder with each passing second, something begins to laugh.</em>
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.38">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.38]]*/By the time you woke up gasping like you'd surfaced from murky waters, throat dry and lungs aching, the laughter had already begun to fade away into silence.
You twisted beneath the weight of your sheets, heart battering the inside of your ribs, your eyes flicking to each shadow like they might start to speak back. The corners of your room, soft with daylight now, offered nothing of importance. No hoofprints in the carpet, no blood on your hands. You were left with just the cruel serenity of a world that had never known the dream that had gutted you only moments before.
You sat there for a long breath. And then another.
Eventually, you moved and got out of bed. You stood barefoot on the hardwood floor and tried to remember. But it was already crumbling at the edges like a rapidly burning newspaper.
By the time the toothpaste foamed in your mouth, the fear had dulled to a vague tightness in your chest. You looked in the mirror and tried to find something in your face that matched what you had just felt, but you found nothing. Just $MC_skintone skin and $MC_haircolor hair and that faintly startled look of someone newly returned to the real world.
It’s like that, isn’t it? The forgetting.
The way nightmares bleed out from the person the moment their body confirms safety. They wake up shaking and clutching at the seams of themself, breathing fast and shallow like something might still be chasing them. They check their limbs for wounds. They study the room like something might be waiting for them to lower their guards. And when nothing is wrong—when the world seems perfectly normal to their eyes—they start to forget.
No frightful remains of the nightmare cling to them by the time they finish washing up, pulling on their clothes and reaching for their socks, wondering if they have time to grab coffee before whatever thing they’ve already forgotten they were supposed to do that day.
<em>It’s a small mercy</em>, you think. <em>That the body forgets. That the mind lets go.</em>
Until you find that you are, once again, curled beneath the weight of a dream that smells of blood and silence, and the owner of that malicious laughter finds you. That’s when the remembrance of everything will <em>certainly</em> come crashing onto you.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.39">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.39]]*/You grabbed your phone from where it laid flat against the MagSafe charger, exactly where you’d plopped it before your shower yesterday. The screen flared awake, too bright in your still-adjusting eyes.
<strong>1:14 p.m.</strong>
You blinked, dazed, as if waking up again, but this time into the shock of a lost morning.
A dozen missed texts greeted you from GroupMe and Messages. Pings and other notifications stacked in towers on your lockscreen.
<<if hasVisited("Ch 3 Ending 3")>><div id="centered"><<link "Open the messages from $D_name." "Ch 4.40.1">><</link>></div>/*[[Ch 4.40.1]]*/
<<else>>*<<link "Open the messages from $C_name." "Ch 4.40.2">><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.40.2]]*/
*<<link "Open the messages from $M_name." "Ch 4.40.3">><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.40.3]]*/<</if>><img src="images/D ch4 TEXT.png" width="100%"/>
You lightly laughed at the panic that was practically oozing from $D_name’s messages. You’d probably be in a whole lot of trouble with your dad too if you did end up getting arrested yesterday, so you’re just thankful that you got away before anything happened.
You quickly sent a reply which confirmed that yes, you’re alive, and no, you’ve not been arrested. Hopefully, that’ll stop $D_himher from going to any more police stations.
<div id="centered">[[Open the GroupMe chat for your residential college (Rathore College).|Ch 4.41]]</div><img src="images/C ch4 TEXT.png" width="100%"/>
You rolled your eyes at the typical tone from $C_name’s texts. Someone needed to study how exactly did $C_heshe manage to give the impression of being rude, and at the same time made you feel that $C_heshe almost cared.
You quickly sent a reply which confirmed that unfortunately for $C_himher, you were not an imbecile and got back to your dorm room safely. You obviously left out the whole mess with your keys yesterday.
<div id="centered">[[Open the GroupMe chat for your residential college (Rathore College).|Ch 4.41]]</div><<if $V_gender is "male">><img src="images/M ch4 TEXT.png" width="100%"/><<else>><img src="images/M ch4 TEXT 2.png" width="100%"/><</if>>
You’re pretty sure that $M_name did not know what the mending heart emoji meant. Maybe you’ll ask $M_himher if $M_heshe wanted to learn some actual usage of emojis that wouldn’t end up making $M_himher look like $M_heshe time-travelled to the wrong century.
Either way, you appreciated $M_hisher nice messages. You quickly sent a reply which confirmed that you did end up sleeping in, and a thanks for checking up on you.
<div id="centered">[[Open the GroupMe chat for your residential college (Rathore College).|Ch 4.41]]</div>You scrolled up to see that people were mostly discussing their new class schedules and trying to arrange library hangouts so they’d have familiar faces to be with. Presently, there was a discussion going on about a senior creeper inappropriately touching some freshmen during yesterday’s party at Sigma Chi.
<strong>Mitchell Grier</strong>
campus police won’t do anything if it happened outside the university campus
<strong>Sofia Ortega</strong>
well, duh, obvious much?
my problem is that the NHPD ignored our complaints and ended up arresting everyone else but him
<strong>Meghna Kapoor</strong>
your first mistake was to expect the police to be less useless here than anywhere else in America
<strong>Tyler Thompson</strong>
Prescott’s uncle is the chief of police, ain’t no way he’s spending more than an hour in jail
And that’s me being generous
<strong>Meghna Kapoor</strong>
didn’t he try to drug someone last year at AEPi too?
<strong>Desmond Slater</strong>
Bro’s a menace LMAO
<strong>Jennifer Ziegler</strong>
I don’t see what’s so funny about that
<strong>Desmond Slater</strong>
Chill out, it’s not that serious
<strong>Grayson Bavagnoli</strong>
that was a lie bro, the chick ended up admitting she was warner’s ex and was just trying to get him in trouble
you can’t trust girls these days, you’ll end up being falsely accused for no reason
<strong>Sofia Ortega</strong>
anyone who knows laura can tell you that confession was faker than the wig you wear to hide your receding hairline
<strong>Grayson Bavagnoli</strong>
bitch i dont wrar a fivking wig, dont fucjing come at me bitch
<strong>Tyler Thompson</strong>
Bro is crashing out over the hairline comment lmfao
<strong>Grayson Bavagnoli</strong>
get lpst fag i’ll fucking kill yoi
<strong>Vitalina Savchenko (RA)</strong>
@Grayson Bavagloni If you continue violating the rules, I’ll have no choice but to kick you out of this chat and further report your behavior.
You watched as the Grayson guy kept cursing everyone out, including the RA, until he’s ultimately removed from the chat. Honestly, knowing that there was somebody as unstable as him residing in your college didn’t make you feel too good. You could only hope that he lived in a different hall than yours.
You eventually lock your phone and start rummaging through your closet for some clothes.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.42">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.42]]*/You found $V_name in the living room, curled on the edge of the sofa. Sunlight poured through the recently replaced glass tabletop, reflecting shapes that cut across $V_hisher knees, the cover of <em>The Bacchae</em>, and the floor beneath your bare feet. The book sat open in $V_hisher lap, dog-eared and already filled with margin notes.
When $V_heshe noticed you, $V_hisher eyes lifted first—deep brown and kind, even if a little too earnest. $V_HeShe tucked a loose strand of curls behind $V_hisher ear and offered a tiny smile. “Hey, how are you feeling?”
You plunked yourself down on the opposite side of the couch with all the grace of a dropped backpack, head lolling back against the cushions. “Aside from a minor headache, I feel alright.”
$V_name nodded, the movement small and full of relief. $V_HeShe closed the book gently, fingers lingering on the cover.
“$M_name stopped by this morning,” $V_heshe said, almost offhandedly, but not quite. “Right after I got back. Wanted to check on both of us.”
You nodded, though it took a second for your brain to catch up with the name. It felt like you were still half-dreaming with how heavy your limbs were, your thoughts blurrier than you liked them. You looked down at the book in $V_hisher lap, its spine creased already despite looking brand new.
<div id="centered">[[“Euripides?” you asked.|Ch 4.43]]</div>$V_name smiled bashfully. “It’s on the pre-reading list. For my Greek plays class. I thought I’d get a head start before class tomorrow.”
You hadn’t even so much as glanced at your class schedule. It was likely still somewhere in the mess of your student email inbox, filed between a reminder about library orientations, signing up for the Bulldog Bulletin, and a cryptic, all-caps announcement from Yale College Council.
You groaned and rubbed your face with both hands. “God, I haven’t touched any of the readings. Or even looked at what I have tomorrow.”
Your stomach then decided to let its emptiness known by sending you a twinge of hunger.
“Did you have lunch?” you asked $V_name, shifting forward.
Your suitemate shook $V_hisher head. “Not yet. I did have breakfast before coming back to the campus though.”
“Come on,” you said, standing up and stretching until your joints cracked satisfactorily. “Let’s go get something. I feel like I could eat a horse.”
$V_name smiled again. “Unfortunately, I don’t think our dining hall serves that.”
You let out a light laugh before ducking into your room again. You grabbed your suite key, room key, and your MacBook, half-stuffing them into your bag. The screen of your laptop lit briefly with a to-do list you didn’t want to read, and you slammed it shut with a dramatic sigh that only you heard.
Abruptly remembering that you need to put all your keys in one spot, you also labelled the keys as ‘R’ and ‘S’ for your room and suite respectively with a Sharpie. You then started looking around for the handful of the keychains you bought online that had your name engraved in the back. You eventually chose the:
*<<hovertip '<em>Heavy-duty nylon strap with YALE printed in bold white letters and includes a mini carabiner clip.</em>'>>[[Yale Blue Nylon Strap|Ch 4.44][$keychain to "Yale Blue Nylon Strap"]]<</hovertip>>
*<<hovertip '<em>A plush version of Yale’s bulldog mascot wearing a little blue t-shirt with a white Y.</em>'>>[[Yale Mini Handsome Dan|Ch 4.44][$keychain to "Yale Mini Handsome Dan"]]<</hovertip>>
*<<hovertip '<em>Circular pewter charm with the official Yale crest and motto “Lux et Veritas."</em>'>>[[Yale Pewter Seal|Ch 4.44][$keychain to "Yale Pewter Seal"]]<</hovertip>>
*<<hovertip '<em>Smooth blue leather loop with silver metal plate engraved with YALE in the front.</em>'>>[[Yale Blue Leather and Metal|Ch 4.44][$keychain to "Yale Blue Leather and Metal"]]<</hovertip>>
*<<hovertip '<em>A transparent charm showing a miniature version of the Yale campus map.</em>'>>[[Yale Campus Map Acrylic|Ch 4.44][$keychain to "Yale Campus Map Acrylic"]]<</hovertip>>
*[[Mini Magic 8 Ball|Ch 4.44][$keychain to "Mini Magic 8 Ball"]]
*[[Glow-in-the-Dark Star|Ch 4.44][$keychain to "Glow-in-the-Dark Star"]]
*[[Instant Noodles Cup|Ch 4.44][$keychain to "Instant Noodles Cup"]]
*[[Mini Cassette Tape|Ch 4.44][$keychain to "Mini Cassette Tape"]]
*[[Mini Swiss Army Knife|Ch 4.44][$keychain to "Mini Swiss Army Knife"]]
*[[Emoji Stress Ball|Ch 4.44][$keychain to "Emoji Stress Ball"]]You entered the dining hall after scanning your Yale ID, the little beep echoing faintly in the otherwise quiet space. It was well past the lunch rush with most of the tables half-cleared with abandoned plates scattered around.
You and $V_name drifted toward the food stations, the scent of spiced legumes and garlic butter pulling you in. The metal trays were still warm, steam curling from their edges.
After taking a clean plate and cutleries, you piled on the following on your plate: [can select however many]
<<set $MC_ch4food1 to []>>
<label><<checkbox "$Risotto" false true autocheck>> Golden butternut squash risotto [Vegan]</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Shawarma" false true autocheck>> Grilled chicken shawarma [Halal] [Kosher]</label>
<label><<checkbox "$TikkaMasala" false true autocheck>> Paneer tikka masala with naan [Vegetarian]</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Salad" false true autocheck>> Herbed couscous salad [Vegan] [Vegetarian]</label>
<label><<checkbox "$MacnCheese" false true autocheck>> Classic mac and cheese [No dietary restriction]</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Lobster" false true autocheck>> Lobster roll [No dietary restriction]</label>
And you grabbed a glass to fill it up on the soda dispenser:
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch4drink1" "Coca-cola" autocheck>> Coca-cola</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch4drink1" "Diet Coke" autocheck>> Diet Coke</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch4drink1" "Pepsi" autocheck>> Pepsi</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch4drink1" "Pepsi Zero Sugar" autocheck>> Pepsi Zero Sugar</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch4drink1" "Mountain Dew" autocheck>> Mountain Dew</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch4drink1" "Dr Pepper" autocheck>> Dr Pepper</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch4drink1" "Fanta" autocheck>> Fanta</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch4drink1" "Sprite" autocheck>> Sprite</label>
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.45">>
<<if $Risotto>><<set $MC_ch4food1.push("golden butternut squash risotto")>><</if>>
<<if $Shawarma>><<set $MC_ch4food1.push("grilled chicken shawarma")>><</if>>
<<if $TikkaMasala>><<set $MC_ch4food1.push("paneer tikka masala with naan")>><</if>>
<<if $Salad>><<set $MC_ch4food1.push("herbed couscous salad")>><</if>>
<<if $MacnCheese>><<set $MC_ch4food1.push("classic mac and cheese")>><</if>>
<<if $Lobster>><<set $MC_ch4food1.push("lobster roll")>><</if>>
<</button>>/*[[Ch 4.45]]*/<<if ($MC_ch4food1.length < 1)>>Please return to the previous page and select at least 1 meal.<<else>>You picked the table by the far window. You had your laptop open before you even took your first bite, the glow of the screen hitting your eyes harshly until you turned the brightness down. Across from you, $V_name settled in with a modest plate of one shawarma and a scoop of mac and cheese.
“So,” you began, after the initial few bites dulled the gnawing in your stomach. “Why exactly did $M_name stop by the suite again?”
$V_name looked up from $V_hisher glass of Sprite. “I told you, $M_heshe said $M_heshe wanted to see how we were holding up.”
You pressed on, raising an eyebrow. “Sure, that’s what $M_heshe said. But I also don’t see $M_himher checking on anyone else on the floor. Not unless I’m missing a whole lot of unsolicited wellness checks.”
$V_name shrugged, a soft roll of the shoulders that seemed more like deflection than an honest answer. “$M_HeShe just seems... caring, I guess? I haven’t heard anyone complain.”
You snorted into your soda, the carbonation stinging your nose. “Well, we haven’t even started classes yet. No one’s had the time to catch on to the obvious favoritism.”
A brief flicker of amusement passed over $V_hisher face, but you could also see that you had got $V_himher thinking about your words. $V_HeShe toyed with a piece of chicken that fell out of the shawarma for a second before responding, eyes flicking toward the dining hall entrance and then back to you, as if making sure that $M_name wouldn’t suddenly materialize like Beetlejuice.
“It’s probably because of that whole... thing,” $V_name said nervously. “The first day? When I had that whole episode, you know?”
You leaned back slightly in your chair, your MacBook’s screen getting dim between you and the half-eaten plate. Honestly, that whole thing seemed like it happened forever ago. It was also a little weird that you felt like you had so many other things to worry about, when you didn’t even get started on actually focusing on the things that mattered: preparing for your damned college classes.
“$M_name probably just wants to make sure it doesn’t happen again,” $V_name added, voice cautious
*[[You honestly didn’t buy it, but you let it go for now.|Ch 4.46][$Strategic to Math.clamp($Strategic + 3, 0, 100), $Intuitive to Math.clamp($Intuitive - 3, 0, 100), $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious + 3, 0, 100), $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Strategic", $stat2 to "Cautious"]]
*[[Your gut was telling you that something very odd was going on, you just don’t know what.|Ch 4.46][$Intuitive to Math.clamp($Intuitive + 3, 0, 100), $Strategic to Math.clamp($Strategic - 3, 0, 100), $Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist + 3, 0, 100), $Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Intuitive", $stat2 to "Pessimist"]]
*[[Oh well, maybe you are overthinking about all this a bit too much.|Ch 4.46][$Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist + 3, 0, 100), $Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist - 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Optimist", $stat2 to "Laidback"]]
*[[Okay, you didn’t know what was going on, but this better not fuck with your GPA.|Ch 4.46][$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Arrogant", $stat2 to "Uptight"]]<</if>><<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>The thoughtful heaviness that was beginning to settle between the two of you was enough to make even your soda taste flat. So you shifted the conversation, nudged it gently onto safer ground.
“So,” you said, leaning a little forward. “How was your day with your moms?”
At once, $V_name’s features softened and $V_hisher posture unwounded.
“They think New Haven’s dull,” $V_heshe said with a little huff of amusement. “Mumma said everyone here looks too serious and the air smells like wet chalk. She’s already missing New Orleans.”
“And Mom,” $V_name added, “joked that the only thing this city’s good for is the universities. Which, I guess, is a pretty fair assessment.”
“Brutal is more like it,” you commented after having a gulp of your soda.
“But they were proud,” $V_name went on with a fond smile. “They still made me promise I’d consider grad school closer to home, though. You know, Tulane loyalty and all that. I think Mumma would’ve paid someone to <em>not</em> admit me to Yale.”
You chuckled at that, letting the image roll around in your mind. “I get it. My dad had his fingers crossed for somewhere around the Pacific Northwest.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” You twisted the soda glass in your hand, shrugging a little. “Washington, Oregon, California, maybe Vancouver if I felt like going international. He was proud when I got into his alma mater, don’t get me wrong, but there’s this thing in his voice when he talks about me being all the way out here.”
$V_name tilted $V_hisher head. “You think homesickness affects those who are left behind as well as those who have moved on?”
You thought about it for a bit before nodding. “That, or they’re afraid that we’ll change without them having the chance to see it happen in real time.”
“I don’t think I’ve changed at all,” $V_heshe said with a tinge of mournfulness in $V_hisher tone. “Do you think you have?”
*[[“I don’t think so either, honestly.”|Ch 4.47.1][$Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100), $Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist + 3, 0, 100), $Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Genuine", $stat2 to "Optimist"]]
*[[“Probably. I haven’t ever stopped to think about it.”|Ch 4.47.2][$Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Laidback", $stat2 to "Aloof"]]
*[[“Definitely. I find that it’s hard not to change as you grow older.”|Ch 4.47.3][$Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist + 3, 0, 100), $Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist - 3, 0, 100), $Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic + 3, 0, 100), $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Pessimist", $stat2 to "Pragmatic"]]<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>It wasn’t meant as a comfort, but it landed like one anyway. Not that you were oblivious to the ways you had grown or learned or stretched in invisible ways, but that you knew that your essence hadn’t shifted. That same core that made you subconsciously tilt your head just so when thinking too deeply, the way you still ended up chewing on your pens when you were nervous in class, the devotion you had to the two Radiohead albums—The Bends and OK Computer—that your mom loved listening to.
“I’m still me,” you added softly, meeting $V_hisher eyes. “I wouldn’t change it for the world.”
$V_name gave you a faint smile. There was equal parts relief and encouragement in that smile, like you’d held a mirror up to a soul that feared it had become a stranger.
And maybe that was the worst part of moving forward, worrying the people who you cared about wouldn’t recognize you anymore.
“I think I get scared of it sometimes,” $V_name said eventually. “Not of change, exactly. Of not knowing what parts of me are going to stick around.”
<<if hasVisited("V Heart Event 1")>><<set $V_romance to $V_romance+1>>You reached over and placed your hand briefly on $V_hisher. “Well, I hope the part that makes horrible sandwiches never leaves. I almost miss the near death experience.”
$V_HeShe flushed dark at that. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
You smirked. “Never.”<<else>><<if $V_romance gte 2>><<set $V_romance to $V_romance+1>>You reached over and placed your hand briefly on $V_hisher. “Well, I don’t think there’s any part of you that’ll ever evolve to be something other than sweet and kind.”
$V_name’s smile was shy as $V_heshe turned over $V_hisher palm to hold your hand properly. “Are you sure?”
“More than anything,” you reassured $V_himher. “If it weren’t for the questionable first impression, I think I’d be taken with you almost immediately.”
$V_HeShe flushed even darker at that. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
You smirked. “Never.”<<else>>“Well, I don’t think there’s any part of you that’ll ever evolve to be something other than sweet and kind.”
$V_name’s smile became a little more confident. “You think so?”
“Uh huh,” you reassured $V_himher. “Believe it or not, there aren’t a lot of people like you these days. People who are nice because they want to be.”
$V_HeShe let out a sigh and nodded. “Thanks, $MC_firstname.”<</if>><</if>>
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.48">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.48]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>That was true, too. Life had a way of feeling like a fast current. You blinked and three years had passed, or you caught yourself saying things your younger self would never have dared to. And yet, somewhere inside, you still felt like a child in a costume trying to act all grown-up.
“I don’t think we’re always the best judges of our own changes,” you said. “It’s like going through puberty, you know? Other people end up noticing it first. You just wake up one morning and you don’t recognize the handwriting in your own journal.”
$V_name looked pensive, like $V_heshe was sifting through a drawer of old feelings and coming up short on what he wanted to find.
“I think I get scared of it sometimes,” $V_name said eventually. “Not of change, exactly. Of not knowing what parts of me are going to stick around.”
<<if hasVisited("V Heart Event 1")>><<set $V_romance to $V_romance+1>>You reached over and placed your hand briefly on $V_hisher. “Well, I hope the part that makes horrible sandwiches never leaves. I almost miss the near death experience.”
$V_HeShe flushed dark at that. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
You smirked. “Never.”<<else>><<if $V_romance gte 2>><<set $V_romance to $V_romance+1>>You reached over and placed your hand briefly on $V_hisher. “Well, I don’t think there’s any part of you that’ll ever evolve to be something other than sweet and kind.”
$V_name’s smile was shy as $V_heshe turned over $V_hisher palm to hold your hand properly. “Are you sure?”
“More than anything,” you reassured $V_himher. “If it weren’t for the questionable first impression, I think I’d be taken with you almost immediately.”
$V_HeShe flushed even darker at that. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
You smirked. “Never.”<<else>>“Well, I don’t think there’s any part of you that’ll ever evolve to be something other than sweet and kind.”
$V_name’s smile became a little more confident. “You think so?”
“Uh huh,” you reassured $V_himher. “Believe it or not, there aren’t a lot of people like you these days. People who are nice because they want to be.”
$V_HeShe let out a sigh and nodded. “Thanks, $MC_firstname.”<</if>><</if>>
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.48">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.48]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>It was a conviction more than a passing comment.
“It’s not always big things,” you said. “Sometimes it’s just your taste in music warping. Or realizing your favorite childhood show doesn’t hit the same anymore. Sometimes you laugh at the wrong time or stop texting someone back, and it’s not malicious or anything. Life is just moving you down a different track.”
“It doesn’t mean the old version of you disappears completely,” you added gently. “You still carry them around, even if no one really notices.”
“I think I get scared of it sometimes,” $V_name said eventually. “Not of change, exactly. Of not knowing what parts of me are going to stick around.”
<<if hasVisited("V Heart Event 1")>><<set $V_romance to $V_romance+1>>You reached over and placed your hand briefly on $V_hisher. “Well, I hope the part that makes horrible sandwiches never leaves. I almost miss the near death experience.”
$V_HeShe flushed dark at that. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
You smirked. “Never.”<<else>><<if $V_romance gte 2>><<set $V_romance to $V_romance+1>>You reached over and placed your hand briefly on $V_hisher. “Well, I don’t think there’s any part of you that’ll ever evolve to be something other than sweet and kind.”
$V_name’s smile was shy as $V_heshe turned over $V_hisher palm to hold your hand properly. “Are you sure?”
“More than anything,” you reassured $V_himher. “If it weren’t for the questionable first impression, I think I’d be taken with you almost immediately.”
$V_HeShe flushed even darker at that. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
You smirked. “Never.”<<else>>“Well, I don’t think there’s any part of you that’ll ever evolve to be something other than sweet and kind.”
$V_name’s smile became a little more confident. “You think so?”
“Uh huh,” you reassured $V_himher. “Believe it or not, there aren’t a lot of people like you these days. People who are nice because they want to be.”
$V_HeShe let out a sigh and nodded. “Thanks, $MC_firstname.”<</if>><</if>>
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.48">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.48]]*/After $V_name finished the last bite of $V_hisher lunch, $V_hisher phone buzzed against the table. $V_heshe glanced down, then back up with an apologetic smile, already standing up with $V_hisher plate cleared.
“There’s something for me at the Student Package Center,” $V_heshe said lightly. “I’ll go take it back to my room.”
You nodded in acknowledgement before $V_heshe left.
You lingered a bit longer at the table, finishing the last of your food, before deciding to stop loitering at the dining hall and go to the library instead to get some work done. Your MacBook goes back into your bag, and you sling it over your shoulder as you head out of the building.
The walkways were nearly empty for the time of the day. You passed only a few people—an older woman in a dark coat carrying a stack of papers, a grad student with a coffee the size of his head, two professors laughing and talking animatedly with each other about a topic that you couldn’t make head or tail of.
It was even quieter inside Sterling Memorial, except for the occasional shuffle of books and screeching of a chair. The smell of paper and parchment felt pretty calming to you as well.
You found a spot in a quiet alcove tucked between two long windows and a wall lined with old reference books, their spines faded and slightly fraying. The table had a built-in charging dock, and you plugged in before pulling out your laptop and setting it on the smooth surface. It lit up, your fingers automatically moving across the trackpad. You then logged into your student email.
The inbox was a cluttered mess of unread subject lines and reminders, promotional event posters, and admin warnings dressed as friendly updates. You scrolled absently for a moment, until your eyes caught on the one that you were looking for: <<if $MC_program is "Biology">><<link "Your Fall Semester Class Schedule 2024-25 (FINAL)">><<script>>
Dialog.setup("Fall Sem 2024-25");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Bio Fall Sem 2024-25").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</link>><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><<elseif $MC_program is "Biomedical Engineering">><<link "Your Fall Semester Class Schedule 2024-25 (FINAL)">><<script>>
Dialog.setup("Fall Sem 2024-25");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("BioMed Fall Sem 2024-25").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</link>><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><<elseif $MC_program is "Neuroscience">><<link "Your Fall Semester Class Schedule 2024-25 (FINAL)">><<script>>
Dialog.setup("Fall Sem 2024-25");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Neuro Fall Sem 2024-25").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</link>><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><<elseif $MC_program is "Psychology">><<link "Your Fall Semester Class Schedule 2024-25 (FINAL)">><<script>>
Dialog.setup("Fall Sem 2024-25");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Psych Fall Sem 2024-25").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</link>><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><<elseif $MC_program is "Political Science">><<link "Your Fall Semester Class Schedule 2024-25 (FINAL)">><<script>>
Dialog.setup("Fall Sem 2024-25");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("PolSci Fall Sem 2024-25").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</link>><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><<elseif $MC_program is "Sociology">><<link "Your Fall Semester Class Schedule 2024-25 (FINAL)">><<script>>
Dialog.setup("Fall Sem 2024-25");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Soc Fall Sem 2024-25").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</link>><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><<elseif $MC_program is "History">><<link "Your Fall Semester Class Schedule 2024-25 (FINAL)">><<script>>
Dialog.setup("Fall Sem 2024-25");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("History Fall Sem 2024-25").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</link>><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><<elseif $MC_program is "Ethics, Politics, and Economics (EPE)">><<link "Your Fall Semester Class Schedule 2024-25 (FINAL)">><<script>>
Dialog.setup("Fall Sem 2024-25");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("EPE Fall Sem 2024-25").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</link>><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><<elseif $MC_program is "Art">><<link "Your Fall Semester Class Schedule 2024-25 (FINAL)">><<script>>
Dialog.setup("Fall Sem 2024-25");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Art Fall Sem 2024-25").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</link>><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><<elseif $MC_program is "Architecture">><<link "Your Fall Semester Class Schedule 2024-25 (FINAL)">><<script>>
Dialog.setup("Fall Sem 2024-25");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Archi Fall Sem 2024-25").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</link>><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><<elseif $MC_program is "History of Art">><<link "Your Fall Semester Class Schedule 2024-25 (FINAL)">><<script>>
Dialog.setup("Fall Sem 2024-25");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("HistArt Fall Sem 2024-25").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</link>><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><<elseif $MC_program is "English">><<link "Your Fall Semester Class Schedule 2024-25 (FINAL)">><<script>>
Dialog.setup("Fall Sem 2024-25");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("English Fall Sem 2024-25").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</link>><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><<elseif $MC_program is "Comparative Literature">><<link "Your Fall Semester Class Schedule 2024-25 (FINAL)">><<script>>
Dialog.setup("Fall Sem 2024-25");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("CompLit Fall Sem 2024-25").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</link>><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><<elseif $MC_program is "Anthropology">><<link "Your Fall Semester Class Schedule 2024-25 (FINAL)">><<script>>
Dialog.setup("Fall Sem 2024-25");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Anthro Fall Sem 2024-25").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</link>><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><<elseif $MC_program is "Classical Civilization">><<link "Your Fall Semester Class Schedule 2024-25 (FINAL)">><<script>>
Dialog.setup("Fall Sem 2024-25");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("ClassCiv Fall Sem 2024-25").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</link>><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><<elseif $MC_program is "Astrophysics">><<link "Your Fall Semester Class Schedule 2024-25 (FINAL)">><<script>>
Dialog.setup("Fall Sem 2024-25");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("Astro Fall Sem 2024-25").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</link>><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><<elseif $MC_program is "Computer Science">><<link "Your Fall Semester Class Schedule 2024-25 (FINAL)">><<script>>
Dialog.setup("Fall Sem 2024-25");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("CompSci Fall Sem 2024-25").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</link>><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><<elseif $MC_program is "Mechanical Engineering">><<link "Your Fall Semester Class Schedule 2024-25 (FINAL)">><<script>>
Dialog.setup("Fall Sem 2024-25");
Dialog.wiki(Story.get("MechEng Fall Sem 2024-25").processText());
Dialog.open();
<</script>><</link>><</if>>.
You remembered there was one required class, Evil, Ethics, and the Imagination, which was mandatory for all freshmen to take. Aside from that, you’d signed up for the other courses yourself.
You exhaled, then opened a new tab to check the coursebook list. The cursor blinked patiently on your screen as your eyes skimmed a list of required books for the mandatory course with Professor Carstairs when you heard a small commotion coming from a distance.
You glanced up and saw $M_name, herding a small pack of parents through the library. $M_HeShe was smiling in that way people do when they’ve been told to smile and not a single muscle in their face wants to sign off on it. Next to $M_himher was the platinum blonde girl from Tuesday. Her smile was an identical twin to $M_name’s, but to you, it looked even more fake. To an outsider though, they were all sunshine and rainbows while their eyes roamed the place like security cameras.
You didn’t mean to stare, but you did, and it was long enough that $M_name seemed to feel it. $M_HisHer brows pulled together in a faint question, then smoothed out again when $M_heshe spotted you.
The smile $M_heshe gave you then was soft and real. Without waiting for invitation, $M_name broke away from the tour group to cross the room and gracefully slid into the seat opposite yours.
“How are you?" $M_heshe asked.
You gave a dry huff of annoyance. “Why is everyone asking me that today? Do I look that bad?”
$M_name shook $M_hisher head with a smile that was more amused than sympathetic. “No, you don’t. But you do look like you’ve seen better nights. So maybe the question isn’t completely preposterous.”
You shrugged, pressing your knuckles into the side of your forehead. “I just had a rough night. And to make things worse, I woke up more late than usual.”
“Bad dream?” $M_heshe guessed.
“I think so,” you murmured. “I don’t even remember it now though, so it doesn’t matter.”
There was something about the way the expression on $M_hisher face shifted then, an odd look taking over the way $M_heshe was observing you. You couldn’t pin it down exactly. Besides, you didn’t have the chance to, because that was when you noticed the blonde from earlier sending you dirty looks.
*[[“What the hell is her problem?”|Ch 4.49.1][$Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100), $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Impulsive", $stat2 to "Uptight"]]
*[[“Is she feeling okay? She looks a little constipated.”|Ch 4.49.2][$Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Friendly", $stat2 to "Genuine"]]
*[[“I know I’m hot as fuck, but she’s kinda creeping me out.”|Ch 4.49.3][$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Arrogant", $stat2 to "Sarcastic"]]
*[[You tried your best to avoid her gaze and look down.|Ch 4.49.4][$Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious + 3, 0, 100), $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive - 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Cautious", $stat2 to "Humble"]]<table style="width:100%">
<tr>
<th>Course Code</th>
<th>Course Title</th>
<th>Professor</th>
<th>Location</th>
<th>Credit</th>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>BIOL 1010</td>
<td>Biochemistry and Biophysics</td>
<td>Sarah Weaver</td>
<td>Kline Biology Tower (KBT), 102</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>BIOL 1020</td>
<td>Principles of Cell Biology</td>
<td>Gregory Anderson</td>
<td>Kline Biology Tower (KBT), 117</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>CHEM 1610</td>
<td>General Chemistry I</td>
<td>Javier Torres</td>
<td>Sterling Chemistry Laboratory (SCL), 110</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>CHEM 1340L</td>
<td>General Chemistry Laboratory I</td>
<td>Javier Torres</td>
<td>Sterling Chemistry Laboratory (SCL), Lab 18</td>
<td>0.5</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>MATH 1150</td>
<td>Calculus of Functions of One Variable II</td>
<td>Megan Myers</td>
<td>Leet Oliver Memorial Hall (LOM), 206</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>RLST 1731</td>
<td>Evil, Ethics, and the Imagination</td>
<td>Kathryn Carstairs</td>
<td>Linsly-Chittenden Hall (LC), 102</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
</table><<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>Your words were harsher than you’d intended, though you didn’t take them back. You leaned back in your seat, arms folding as you stared pointedly at the blonde like your gaze could scrape the look off her face.
$M_name frowned, the crease between $M_hisher brows deepening as $M_heshe turned to see what had gotten you so worked up. When $M_hisher eyes landed on the girl, $M_heshe sighed in resignation.
“That’s just Rebecca,” $M_heshe said as $M_heshe turned back to you, $M_hisher tone turning apologetic. “She’s usually like that.”
You gave $M_himher a skeptical look. “By ‘like that,’ do you mean like she wants to stab me in the neck with a ballpoint pen in the middle of the library?”
$M_name let out a reluctant chuckle. “Pretty much. She’s not very… friendly with strangers. Or people in general, to be honest.” $M_HeShe paused. “She’s trying, though. She’s one of the RAs in Ishikawa Hall now, which is the other residential building in Rathore. They made her go through sensitivity training over the summer, which was probably like watching a cat learn to swim.”
You shook your head. “Still weird. I’ve never even spoken to her, but she looks at me like I ran over her childhood pet.”
<<if $M_romance gte 2 or hasVisited("M Heart Event 1")>><<set $M_romance to $M_romance+1>>$M_name was quiet for a beat. Then $M_hisher gaze steadied on you thoughtfully, $M_hisher eyes a little darker than usual. $M_HisHer right hand flexed slightly on the table, then hesitated as if consulting some unseen rulebook, before crossing the short space between you to rest, gently, over yours.
“I’ll talk to her,” $M_heshe said, $M_hisher voice softened now, and not just in volume. “I’ll ask her to tone it down.”
You blinked at the warmth that crawled from $M_hisher palm into your skin. Then smiled, because you hadn’t really expected $M_himher to say that, and it struck you with that same sudden fluttery feeling as an unexpected compliment. You squeezed $M_hisher hand once in reply. A ‘thank you.’ A ‘that’ll do.’<<else>>$M_name was quiet for a beat. Then $M_hisher gaze steadied on you with a reassuring look.
“I’ll talk to her,” $M_heshe said, $M_hisher voice comforting. “I’ll ask her to tone it down.”
You let out a sigh of relief before smiling. Honestly, you hadn’t really expected $M_himher to say that. Maybe that spoke more about how your tendency to not expect much from ‘friends’ had followed you even into college.
“Thank you,” you said, appreciative and placated.<</if>>
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.50">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.50]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>You didn’t know what the girl expected from you, but you didn’t have anything on you at the moment that could help her with her medical problems.
$M_name frowned, the crease between $M_hisher brows deepening as $M_heshe turned to see what had gotten you so worked up. When $M_hisher eyes landed on the girl, $M_heshe sighed in resignation.
“That’s just Rebecca,” $M_heshe said as $M_heshe turned back to you, $M_hisher tone turning apologetic. “She’s usually like that.”
You gave $M_himher a skeptical look. “By ‘like that,’ do you mean like she wants to stab me in the neck with a ballpoint pen in the middle of the library?”
$M_name let out a reluctant chuckle. “Pretty much. She’s not very… friendly with strangers. Or people in general, to be honest.” $M_HeShe paused. “She’s trying, though. She’s one of the RAs in Ishikawa Hall now, which is the other residential building in Rathore. They made her go through sensitivity training over the summer, which was probably like watching a cat learn to swim.”
You shook your head. “Still weird. I’ve never even spoken to her, but she looks at me like I ran over her childhood pet.”
<<if $M_romance gte 2 or hasVisited("M Heart Event 1")>><<set $M_romance to $M_romance+1>>$M_name was quiet for a beat. Then $M_hisher gaze steadied on you thoughtfully, $M_hisher eyes a little darker than usual. $M_HisHer right hand flexed slightly on the table, then hesitated as if consulting some unseen rulebook, before crossing the short space between you to rest, gently, over yours.
“I’ll talk to her,” $M_heshe said, $M_hisher voice softened now, and not just in volume. “I’ll ask her to tone it down.”
You blinked at the warmth that crawled from $M_hisher palm into your skin. Then smiled, because you hadn’t really expected $M_himher to say that, and it struck you with that same sudden fluttery feeling as an unexpected compliment. You squeezed $M_hisher hand once in reply. A ‘thank you.’ A ‘that’ll do.’<<else>>$M_name was quiet for a beat. Then $M_hisher gaze steadied on you with a reassuring look.
“I’ll talk to her,” $M_heshe said, $M_hisher voice comforting. “I’ll ask her to tone it down.”
You let out a sigh of relief before smiling. Honestly, you hadn’t really expected $M_himher to say that. Maybe that spoke more about how your tendency to not expect much from ‘friends’ had followed you even into college.
“Thank you,” you said, appreciative and placated.<</if>>
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.50">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.50]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>Like seriously, you didn’t mind being admired but would it kill this girl to not frown so hard like someone farted in front of her? You’d prefer dreamy expressions and batting eyelashes, thank you very much.
$M_name frowned, the crease between $M_hisher brows deepening as $M_heshe turned to see what had gotten you so worked up. When $M_hisher eyes landed on the girl, $M_heshe sighed in resignation.
“That’s just Rebecca,” $M_heshe said as $M_heshe turned back to you, $M_hisher tone turning apologetic. “She’s usually like that.”
You gave $M_himher a skeptical look. “By ‘like that,’ do you mean like she wants to stab me in the neck with a ballpoint pen in the middle of the library?”
$M_name let out a reluctant chuckle. “Pretty much. She’s not very… friendly with strangers. Or people in general, to be honest.” $M_HeShe paused. “She’s trying, though. She’s one of the RAs in Ishikawa Hall now, which is the other residential building in Rathore. They made her go through sensitivity training over the summer, which was probably like watching a cat learn to swim.”
You shook your head. “Still weird. I’ve never even spoken to her, but she looks at me like I ran over her childhood pet.”
<<if $M_romance gte 2 or hasVisited("M Heart Event 1")>><<set $M_romance to $M_romance+1>>$M_name was quiet for a beat. Then $M_hisher gaze steadied on you thoughtfully, $M_hisher eyes a little darker than usual. $M_HisHer right hand flexed slightly on the table, then hesitated as if consulting some unseen rulebook, before crossing the short space between you to rest, gently, over yours.
“I’ll talk to her,” $M_heshe said, $M_hisher voice softened now, and not just in volume. “I’ll ask her to tone it down.”
You blinked at the warmth that crawled from $M_hisher palm into your skin. Then smiled, because you hadn’t really expected $M_himher to say that, and it struck you with that same sudden fluttery feeling as an unexpected compliment. You squeezed $M_hisher hand once in reply. A ‘thank you.’ A ‘that’ll do.’<<else>>$M_name was quiet for a beat. Then $M_hisher gaze steadied on you with a reassuring look.
“I’ll talk to her,” $M_heshe said, $M_hisher voice comforting. “I’ll ask her to tone it down.”
You let out a sigh of relief before smiling. Honestly, you hadn’t really expected $M_himher to say that. Maybe that spoke more about how your tendency to not expect much from ‘friends’ had followed you even into college.
“Thank you,” you said, appreciative and placated.<</if>>
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.50">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.50]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>You didn’t say anything. Just ducked your head, eyes finding the spacebar of your keyboard, the corner of your email, the very-not-obvious ink stain on the table. Anything but her.
$M_name frowned, the crease between $M_hisher brows deepening as $M_heshe turned to see what had gotten you so worked up. When $M_hisher eyes landed on the girl, $M_heshe sighed in resignation.
“That’s just Rebecca,” $M_heshe said as $M_heshe turned back to you, $M_hisher tone turning apologetic. “She’s usually like that.”
You gave $M_himher a skeptical look. “By ‘like that,’ do you mean like she wants to stab me in the neck with a ballpoint pen in the middle of the library?”
$M_name let out a reluctant chuckle. “Pretty much. She’s not very… friendly with strangers. Or people in general, to be honest.” $M_HeShe paused. “She’s trying, though. She’s one of the RAs in Ishikawa Hall now, which is the other residential building in Rathore. They made her go through sensitivity training over the summer, which was probably like watching a cat learn to swim.”
You shook your head. “Still weird. I’ve never even spoken to her, but she looks at me like I ran over her childhood pet.”
<<if $M_romance gte 2 or hasVisited("M Heart Event 1")>><<set $M_romance to $M_romance+1>>$M_name was quiet for a beat. Then $M_hisher gaze steadied on you thoughtfully, $M_hisher eyes a little darker than usual. $M_HisHer right hand flexed slightly on the table, then hesitated as if consulting some unseen rulebook, before crossing the short space between you to rest, gently, over yours.
“I’ll talk to her,” $M_heshe said, $M_hisher voice softened now, and not just in volume. “I’ll ask her to tone it down.”
You blinked at the warmth that crawled from $M_hisher palm into your skin. Then smiled, because you hadn’t really expected $M_himher to say that, and it struck you with that same sudden fluttery feeling as an unexpected compliment. You squeezed $M_hisher hand once in reply. A ‘thank you.’ A ‘that’ll do.’<<else>>$M_name was quiet for a beat. Then $M_hisher gaze steadied on you with a reassuring look.
“I’ll talk to her,” $M_heshe said, $M_hisher voice comforting. “I’ll ask her to tone it down.”
You let out a sigh of relief before smiling. Honestly, you hadn’t really expected $M_himher to say that. Maybe that spoke more about how your tendency to not expect much from ‘friends’ had followed you even into college.
“Thank you,” you said, appreciative and placated.<</if>>
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.50">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.50]]*/And of course—because the universe had a twisted sense of timing—she appeared just then, heels tapping against the library tile like punctuation marks. Rebecca moved with all the energy of someone who’d just gotten what she wanted but still wasn’t sure it was enough. Her long platinum blonde hair, as opposed to the ponytail on Tuesday, was now styled in curtain bangs with layers.
“The group is ready to move on,” she said to $M_name, not sparing you more than a single cold glance. Now that you saw her up close, you noticed that her eyes weren’t brown at all, but rather a deep shade of purple.
$M_name nodded, all stoic now, that public-facing mask slipping back over $M_hisher features again. “Got it.”
But before $M_heshe turned to go, $M_heshe gave you one last look and said, “Take care of yourself, yeah?”
And then $M_heshe and Rebecca were gone, the latter’s eyes fixed on $M_himher with an unreadable look.
You watched the distance settle between you and thought, ‘Well... so much for wanting some peace and calm at the library.’
<<if hasVisited("Ch 3 Ending 3")>><<button "Next" "Ch 4.50.1">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.50.1]]*/<<else>><<button "Next" "Ch 4.50.2">><</button>>
/*[[Ch 4.50.2]]*/<</if>>You were making your way back to your residential hall, when a blur of leather jacket and denim nearly collided with you head-on. You stumbled back in surprise, and the scent hit you first; Marlboro Reds and cinnamon. A strange mix. Brash and sweet. Exactly like—
“$MC_firstname?” the voice cracked out, too loud for your ears after the quietness of the afternoon. “Thank fucking god.”
$D_name, panting like $D_heshe had run all the way from Manhattan, looked half-wild and wholly relieved. $D_HisHer hair was windblown in a way that looked too deliberate for someone who looked so much in a hurry. But $D_hisher gunmetal gray eyes were frantic enough to make you stop and wonder what the hell was going on.
You blinked at $D_himher, eyebrows already lifting toward your hairline. “You okay? You look like you just escaped a kidnapping attempt.”
$D_name didn’t answer at first, $D_heshe instead just looked you over like $D_heshe was counting your limbs.
“You’re safe,” $D_heshe muttered, more to $D_himself than you.
Then, realisation caught up with you. That panicked text $D_heshe sent last night where $D_heshe was spiraling about the arrival of cops at the SigChi party, convinced you were either in jail or halfway to a court date. It had been both ridiculous and kind of… endearing? Like a stray puppy who cried at the door the second you were gone.
“I texted you this afternoon,” you said, arms crossing loosely over your chest. “Said I was fine. You didn’t see it?”
$D_name shook $D_hisher head, chestnut brown waves bouncing slightly. “Didn’t have time to check my phone.”
You squinted. “Don’t tell me you’ve been running around the city like a maniac looking for me.”
There was a sheepish tilt to $D_hisher smile then. Lazy and charming, sure, but also crooked at the edges like $D_heshe’d stitched it together in a rush. “...Maybe.”
*[[Wait what? You were only guessing it as a joke!|Ch 4.51.1][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Sarcastic", $stat2 to "Friendly"]]
*<<link "Are you allowed to think $D_heshe was kind of sweet?" "Ch 4.51.1">><<set $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Genuine", $stat2 to "Laidback">><</link>>
*<<link "You stared at $D_himher in speechless silence." "Ch 4.51.1">><<set $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Aloof", $stat2 to "Humble">><</link>>You were halfway back from the library with your bag when you started thinking about what would be there for dinner. As well as wondering if the day had wrung the last drop of energy out of you.
With your head in the clouds, it was no wonder that you nearly ended up colliding with someone.
A sharp pivot saved you both from impact, the scuff of shoes scraping against pavement. You caught a rush of scent as you passed: Marlboro Reds and cinnamon. A strange mix. Brash and sweet.
$D_name was halfway past you when recognition flared behind $D_hisher gunmetal gray eyes; wide, surprised, bright with something that felt a little too close to delight for someone clearly in a rush. $D_HeShe had a guitar case slung across $D_hisher back, the strap digging into the fabric of $D_hisher leather jacket, $D_hisher chestnut brown hair artfully tousled in a way that felt too deliberate.
“Well well well,” $D_heshe said in $D_hisher Texan drawl, lips tugging into a crooked grin. “If it ain’t $C_Ceddy bear’s mortal enemy.”
You raised your brows, letting out a breath of a laugh. “Is that how $C_name describes me?”
$D_name shook $D_hisher head, amused, brushing a thumb beneath $D_hisher nose like $D_heshe was weighing whether or not to keep going. “I exaggerate, of course. But it’s hilarious how irritated $C_heshe gets whenever I bring you up.”
There was the familiar glint in $D_hisher gaze, that particular sheen of someone who knew exactly how to push one’s buttons. And thoroughly enjoyed doing so.
Plus, from what you’d seen, $D_heshe relished the way $D_heshe could twist a reaction out of $D_hisher best friend. You also got the feeling $D_heshe might set a house on fire just for the sake of temporary amusement. Though you were hoping that $D_heshe wasn’t an actual arsonist.
<div id="centered">
<<if $D_romance gte 2>>
<<link "Your gaze drifted to the guitar case on $D_hisher back." "Ch 4.51.2">> <<set $D_romance to $D_romance +1>>
<</link>>
<<else>>
<<link "Your gaze drifted to the guitar case on $D_hisher back." "Ch 4.51.3">> <</link>>
<</if>>
</div>/*[[Ch 4.51.2]]*//*[[Ch 4.51.3]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>“And the police station?” you asked after a few seconds of quiet.
“...Yes.”
“$D_name!” you said too loudly, the volume of your voice skipping up a note as a pigeon launched itself into the air behind you, startled by your disbelief.
$D_HeShe pouted. “I panicked, okay? Nobody had spotted you leaving, you weren’t answering your phone, and I thought—” $D_heshe cut $D_himself off, looking away and scratching at the back of $D_hisher neck. “I didn’t want you to get arrested for a mess I dragged you into.”
There was something almost bashful in $D_hisher posture now, which, coming from $D_name, was the emotional equivalent of spotting a wolf wearing mittens.
You smiled. Couldn't help it. A lopsided, slow-building grin. “Well, at least you won’t be leaving me alone at a party you invited me to.”
$D_HeShe nodded frantically, expression comically resolute. “I promise it won’t be happening again.”
<<if $D_romance gte 2 or hasVisited("D Heart Event 1")>><<button "Next" "Ch 4.52.1">><<set $D_romance to $D_romance+1>><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.52.1]]*/<<else>><<button "Next" "Ch 4.52.2">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.52.2]]*/<</if>>There was a tenderness in $D_hisher eyes that warmed your chest, like frost crackling away beneath the first spring sun. It wasn't the kind of look $D_name usually wore, as far as you could tell. $D_HisHer default expressions were sly things: smirks curled at the corners, half-lies resting on $D_hisher lips that people eagerly ate up. But this? This was gentler. Real.
And it undid you like a ribbon pulled loose, catching in the hollow beneath your heart. For one breathless, hopeless second, you found yourself wishing that $D_heshe would keep looking at you like that forever.
You were beginning to understand that most of $D_hisher jokes were diversions, that most of $D_hisher smiles were masks. But fleeting moments like this felt too unknowingly soft to be anything but the truth.
And then, just as quickly, $D_heshe seemed to realize it too.
$D_HeShe cleared $D_hisher throat a little too loudly, blinking as if trying to reset the expression on $D_hisher face.
“Well,” $D_heshe said, voice dipping back into the easy, teasing drawl you’d come to expect, “since you’re not in jail and don’t have a criminal record, I guess I can finally go back to my room and get some desperately needed sleep.”
“Wait– hold up. Are you saying you didn’t sleep? At all?”
Your jaw dropped, but $D_heshe only gave you that infuriatingly $D_boyish wink, like $D_heshe was proud of it.
“Bless your heart for caring, but it ain’t the first time I’ve pulled an all-nighter,” $D_heshe said with a shrug, and before you could reply, $D_heshe turned and half-sprinted $D_hisher way across the cobblestones toward Blackthorne Hall, as if $D_heshe was a cartoon burglar making a getaway before $D_heshe gets caught.
You stared after $D_himher, still stunned, your bag slipping a little down your shoulder.
Good grief. You hadn’t even managed to ask if $D_heshe wanted to walk back together. Although judging by how fast $D_heshe skedaddled away from you, you had a sneaking suspicion that that had been exactly the point.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.53">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.53]]*/“Well,” $D_heshe said, voice dipping back into the easy, teasing drawl you’d come to expect, “since you’re not in jail and don’t have a criminal record, I guess I can finally go back to my room and get some desperately needed sleep.”
“Hold the fuck up, are you saying you didn’t sleep? At all?”
Your jaw dropped, but $D_heshe only gave you that infuriatingly $D_boyish wink, like $D_heshe was proud of it.
“Bless your heart for caring, but it ain’t the first time I’ve pulled an all-nighter,” $D_heshe said with a shrug.
You sighed at the predictable devil-may-care attitude $D_heshe had. “Alright, whatever. Let’s just go back to our Hall before you keel over.”
$D_HeShe looked mildly offended at your lack of faith in $D_hisher ability to stay awake, but $D_heshe did accept your offer of walking together. You almost regret your choice once $D_heshe starts talking your ear off about how rude the individual police officers were at NHPD when $D_heshe went there to bail you out.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.53">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.53]]*/<<notify>>Saved!<</notify>>After dinner with $V_name, you’d parted ways at the old stone steps at around 7:30 p.m. $V_HeShe said $V_heshe was off to the Classics library at Phelps to ‘quickly’ check out some books, though you had the suspicion that in $V_hisher case, ‘quickly’ might still mean vanishing into a pile of ancient tomes until well past nightfall.
The suite’s windows were dark against a navy blue dusk when you got back, your room welcoming you like an old friend. You collapsed onto your bed with all the energy of someone who had earned it after a long day of toiling under the sun, sighing dramatically into the mattress before rolling over and opening your laptop.
Of course, you planned to do what any rational student would: stalk– ahem, research your professors for the semester on Rate My Professor.
You paused over the particularly interesting reviews that Professor Carstairs got, who’d be leading ‘Evil, Ethics, and the Imagination’:
<div style="text-indent: 2em;"><strong><em>5.0/5.0 “if looks could bless, prof carstairs would be a saint. too bad her exams feel like divine punishment. you’ll learn a lot, but mostly how much psychedelics is safe to consume before you experience something good enough to write for the essays she assigns. 10/10, would recommend.”</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-indent: 2em;"><strong><em>2.0/5.0 “She gave me a C for missing a couple of punctuations in the essay I handed in. I have a theory that she harvests the tears of her students to give herself eternal beauty.”</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-indent: 2em;"><strong><em>5.0/5.0 “She’s what I imagine to be the product of Angelina Jolie and a drill sergeant. Teaches well. Asks for any questions you have and then proceeds to insult you for 15 minutes straight. She is cool. Probably the smartest woman I’ve met at Yale.”</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-indent: 2em;"><strong><em>4.0/5.0 “if there was a nuclear wipeout, the only survivors would be cockroaches and the ridiculously difficult test papers she makes. she is smoking hot though so i don’t mind repeating her class again, just this once.”</em></strong></div>
<div style="text-indent: 2em;"><strong><em>3.0/5.0 “I HAD TO SACRIFICE A CHICKEN TO A MAYAN GOD TO PASS HER CLASS”</em></strong></div>
You snorted into your sleeves just as your phone buzzed against the MagSafe charger on your nightstand. You wondered who might be calling you at this hour before leaning over. The name on the screen made your lips lift.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.54">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.54]]*/“Where are you off to?” you asked, nodding toward it.
$D_name shrugged one shoulder. “Band practice. We’re working on some new stuff.”
And then, a flicker of consideration passes over $D_hisher face with a tilt of $D_hisher head. “You wanna come see the band sometime? We’ve got a couple of venue gigs coming up.”
Your stomach did that annoying thing it sometimes did when the world felt like it had suddenly opened a door you didn’t realize you were waiting behind.
“Yeah,” you said, trying not to sound too eager. “I’d love to.”
$D_HisHer smile cracked wider, mirth flashing in $D_hisher eyes. “Cool, then. I’ll text you once we land the next gig.”
And just like that, $D_heshe turned and left. But you saw it before $D_heshe completely disappeared from your line of sight: a bit of pep in $D_hisher step, a cheerful new rhythm in $D_hisher walk.
You waited until $D_heshe was gone before you let your own smile rise, quiet and involuntary. And as you turned back toward your residential hall, the sky now inching toward that late afternoon blue-orange, you realized you were walking just a little lighter too.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.53">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.53]]*/And then, a flicker of consideration passes over $D_hisher face with a tilt of $D_hisher head. “You wanna come see the band sometime? We’ve got a couple of venue gigs coming up.”
You felt your lips twitch into a smile. “Sure. I’ll try to attend if I’m free.”
You weren’t sure if you were reading too much into it, but $D_name’s expression seemed to grow a little more bright at your assent. It felt like a small step being taken toward a possible friendship without either of you admitting it out loud.
$D_HeShe smiled again, less sardonic and more real. “Cool. I’ll text you when the dates are close.”
Then, with a wave and that loping, careless energy that followed $D_himher wherever $D_heshe went, $D_name turned away and disappeared down the sidewalk, already humming something under $D_hisher breath, already half-lost to whatever song $D_heshe was carrying.
You stood there a moment longer, watching the place where $D_heshe had vanished, then turned back toward your residential hall.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.53">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.53]]*/You answered with a swipe of your thumb across the screen. “Hello, Dad.”
“Hey, <em><<hovertip '[<em>Dutch</em>] Little dear'>>liefje<</hovertip>></em>,” came your father’s voice, as familiar and warm as you’d last heard it. But behind it all, you could hear some worry, hidden beneath too-cheerful tones. “I haven’t heard from you in a few days. What’s up with that?”
You didn’t answer right away. Your gaze dropped to your free hand resting against your stomach. You studied it like it belonged to someone else; your fingers, your veins, the faint crescent scar on your wrist from a childhood accident you didn’t fully remember. You remembered other things instead. The thick woods in the dream. The goat. The blood. The way you'd woken up as if something had followed you out of your nightmare.
And then the nosebleed. That coppery drip you hadn’t seen since you were twelve and your body was still growing too fast for itself.
You bit the inside of your lip.
“It’s just been a hectic couple of weeks,” you said finally, settling on a half-lie in order to not freak him out.
A long pause followed on the other end of the line. You could practically hear your father’s mind working through all the layers of your voice, the way only he could. Then, carefully: “Are you okay?”
You chuckled, deflecting, because it was easier than opening that door. “I’m fine, Dad. You don’t have to keep hovering. I’ve officially flown out of the nest, remember?”
“Yeah, well,” he said with a sigh, “birds can still crash sometimes. Besides, I’m not trying to hover. Just... you know the drill. You don’t have to tell me what’s going on, but if anything did happen, I’ll be on the next flight to New Haven. No questions asked.”
*[[You smiled then. For real this time. “I know, Dad. I appreciate it.”|Ch 4.55.1][$Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100), $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional + 3, 0, 100), $Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Genuine", $stat2 to "Emotional"]]
*[[You rolled your eyes and huff dramatically. “And here you’re wondering why I won’t tell you anything?”|Ch 4.55.2][$Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Uptight", $stat2 to "Sarcastic"]]
*[[You winced. “Please don’t, Dad. It’ll be a total social suicide.”|Ch 4.55.3][$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100), $Extrovert to Math.clamp($Extrovert + 3, 0, 100), $Introvert to Math.clamp($Introvert - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Arrogant", $stat2 to "Introvert"]]<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>You could hear his exhale on the other end, a release of breath he’d been holding for more than just this phone call.
“Okay,” he said, quiet now. “Okay.”
He then hummed low on the line, like that answer satisfied something in him before changing the subject.
He told you about an emergency team meeting being held when someone accidentally launched a rocket prototype without clearance. About how one of the real estate execs nearly fainted because someone replaced the coffee beans with decaf, and how your father nearly fired his CFO for trying to redesign the company logo using Comic Sans.
You laughed, half-wheezing as he mimicked voices and dramatic gestures to do as close of a reenactment of the events as possible. The sound of your father’s voice anchored you, gave you a small dose of homesickness with every story he told to cheer you up.
By the time the clock on your screen blinked <strong>8:46 p.m.</strong>, you were curled sideways on the bed, your eyes growing heavy.
“I should probably shower before bed,” you told him, reluctantly.
“Already saying goodbye?” he said, mock-wounded.
You laughed again. “It’s the first day of classes tomorrow.”
“Fine, fine. But if anyone gives you trouble, just let me know. I still have connections there, and I’ve been told I’m terrifying when I want to be.”
“Oh, I believe it. I sure do.”
There was a pause, and then your father softly said, “I love you, little apple.”
You smiled. “I love you too, Dad.”
And with the familiar beep, the line went dead. You stayed still for a moment longer, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath before getting up to shower so you could get ready to go to sleep early.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.56">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.56]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>Your dad chuckled, and you could practically hear the eye-roll he was giving you back. It was that strange ballet the two of you had perfected over the years, irony and affection circling each other like wary cats. You didn’t really mean to be rude, and he didn’t really mind your barbs.
“Fair,” he admitted. “But I’m still your father. You don’t just get to move several states away and expect me to stop worrying about you.”
You laughed, shaking your head as if he could see it. He simply hummed, satisfied—for now, at least—and shifted the conversation toward safer shores.
He told you about an emergency team meeting being held when someone accidentally launched a rocket prototype without clearance. About how one of the real estate execs nearly fainted because someone replaced the coffee beans with decaf, and how your father nearly fired his CFO for trying to redesign the company logo using Comic Sans.
You laughed, half-wheezing as he mimicked voices and dramatic gestures to do as close of a reenactment of the events as possible. The sound of your father’s voice anchored you, gave you a small dose of homesickness with every story he told to cheer you up.
By the time the clock on your screen blinked <strong>8:46 p.m.</strong>, you were curled sideways on the bed, your eyes growing heavy.
“I should probably shower before bed,” you told him, reluctantly.
“Already saying goodbye?” he said, mock-wounded.
You laughed again. “It’s the first day of classes tomorrow.”
“Fine, fine. But if anyone gives you trouble, just let me know. I still have connections there, and I’ve been told I’m terrifying when I want to be.”
“Oh, I believe it. I sure do.”
There was a pause, and then your father softly said, “I love you, little apple.”
You smiled. “I love you too, Dad.”
And with the familiar beep, the line went dead. You stayed still for a moment longer, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath before getting up to shower so you could get ready to go to sleep early.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.56">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.56]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>You could already picture it. Elias $MC_surname striding through the campus in a three-piece suit, talking loudly into an earpiece, probably name-dropping a senator in the package center. It would be the kind of headline gossip that’d circle the residential colleges before you even started your classes properly.
“You should’ve been a theatre major with your tendency to be dramatic,” he said with a laugh.
“Gee, I wondered who I learned it from,” you shot back.
That seemed to shut him up about that as he simply hummed and changed the subject.
He told you about an emergency team meeting being held when someone accidentally launched a rocket prototype without clearance. About how one of the real estate execs nearly fainted because someone replaced the coffee beans with decaf, and how your father nearly fired his CFO for trying to redesign the company logo using Comic Sans.
You laughed, half-wheezing as he mimicked voices and dramatic gestures to do as close of a reenactment of the events as possible. The sound of your father’s voice anchored you, gave you a small dose of homesickness with every story he told to cheer you up.
By the time the clock on your screen blinked <strong>8:46 p.m.</strong>, you were curled sideways on the bed, your eyes growing heavy.
“I should probably shower before bed,” you told him, reluctantly.
“Already saying goodbye?” he said, mock-wounded.
You laughed again. “It’s the first day of classes tomorrow.”
“Fine, fine. But if anyone gives you trouble, just let me know. I still have connections there, and I’ve been told I’m terrifying when I want to be.”
“Oh, I believe it. I sure do.”
There was a pause, and then your father softly said, “I love you, little apple.”
You smiled. “I love you too, Dad.”
And with the familiar beep, the line went dead. You stayed still for a moment longer, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath before getting up to shower so you could get ready to go to sleep early.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.56">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.56]]*/You woke up with your alarm screaming at your face like a goddamned fire alarm. It took you a second to remember where you were, what day it was, and who you were supposed to be now that the semester had begun.
You moved on autopilot. Brushing your teeth, choosing your outfit, stuffing classroom essentials into your bag. You then rechecked your class schedule as you put on your shoes, eyes flicking over the blocky names and room numbers and times. It was packed to the brim, unsurprisingly. First day of classes, and every professor wanted to make their introductions, and get the syllabus laid out.
$V_name was still pouring milk into $V_hisher bowl of Reese's Puffs when you slung your bag over your shoulder. $V_HeShe still had time to kill since $V_hisher classes started later.
“Good luck,” $V_heshe said, giving you a little wave like a parent seeing a kid off to their first day of kindergarten. You smiled and waved back.
The dining hall was already a war zone by the time you squeezed in. Chairs scraping across tile, people moving with the single-minded desperation of a hungry stampede. You really should’ve just had some cereal inside the safety of your own suite, but oh well.
You elbowed your way through the press of backpacks and half-awake undergrads and somehow managed to grab some food, drink, and a seat before all of them are taken:
<<set $MC_ch4food2 to []>>
!!!FOOD [can choose 1-5 items]
<<message 'Vegetarian options'>>\
<label><<checkbox "$parfait" false true autocheck>> Greek yogurt parfait with granola, honey, and mixed berries</label>
<label><<checkbox "$omelet" false true autocheck>> Veggie omelet with mushrooms, onions, and cheddar cheese</label>
<label><<checkbox "$bagel" false true autocheck>> Whole-grain bagel with cream cheese, cucumber, and dill</label>
<label><<checkbox "$pancakes" false true autocheck>> Blueberry pancakes with maple syrup</label><</message>>
<<message 'Vegan options'>>\
<label><<checkbox "$oats" false true autocheck>> Overnight oats with almond milk, chia seeds, fresh berries, and maple syrup</label>
<label><<checkbox "$scramble" false true autocheck>> Tofu scramble with spinach, bell peppers, and turmeric</label>
<label><<checkbox "$toast" false true autocheck>> Avocado toast on whole-grain bread with cherry tomatoes and a sprinkle of nutritional yeast</label>
<label><<checkbox "$burrito" false true autocheck>> Vegan breakfast burrito with black beans, salsa, and roasted sweet potatoes</label><</message>>
<<message 'No dietary restriction options'>>\
<label><<checkbox "$eggs" false true autocheck>> Scrambled eggs with smoked salmon and chives</label>
<label><<checkbox "$oatmeal" false true autocheck>> Oatmeal with coconut milk, dried cranberries, and walnuts</label>
<label><<checkbox "$sourdough" false true autocheck>> Sourdough toast with peanut butter and sliced banana</label>
<label><<checkbox "$tacos" false true autocheck>> Breakfast tacos with eggs, avocado, and pico de gallo</label><</message>>
!!!DRINKS [can choose only 1 item]
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch4drink2" "orange juice" autocheck>> Orange juice</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch4drink2" "apple juice" autocheck>> Apple juice</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch4drink2" "lemonade" autocheck>> Lemonade</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch4drink2" "coffee" autocheck>> Coffee</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch4drink2" "tea" autocheck>> Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch4drink2" "hot chocolate" autocheck>> Hot chocolate</label>
At the table next to yours, two people were mid-argument about who had been standing there first. Gloriously unoriginal insults that you hadn’t heard of since primary school were being flung like hot oil. You took a bite of your food and watched it unfold with mild interest.
Breakfast <em>and</em> a show. Not bad for 7:30 in the morning.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.57">>
<<if $parfait>><<set $MC_ch4food2.push("parfait")>><</if>>
<<if $omelet>><<set $MC_ch4food2.push("omelet")>><</if>>
<<if $bagel>><<set $MC_ch4food2.push("bagel")>><</if>>
<<if $pancakes>><<set $MC_ch4food2.push("pancakes")>><</if>>
<<if $oats>><<set $MC_ch4food2.push("oats")>><</if>>
<<if $scramble>><<set $MC_ch4food2.push("scramble")>><</if>>
<<if $toast>><<set $MC_ch4food2.push("toast")>><</if>>
<<if $burrito>><<set $MC_ch4food2.push("burrito")>><</if>>
<<if $eggs>><<set $MC_ch4food2.push("eggs")>><</if>>
<<if $oatmeal>><<set $MC_ch4food2.push("oatmeal")>><</if>>
<<if $sourdough>><<set $MC_ch4food2.push("sourdough")>><</if>>
<<if $tacos>><<set $MC_ch4food2.push("tacos")>><</if>>
<</button>>/*[[Ch 4.57]]*/<<if ($MC_ch4food2.length < 1)>>Please return to the previous page and select at least 1 meal.<<elseif ($MC_ch4food2.length > 5)>>You have selected more than the maximum allowable number of food items. Please choose at most 5.<<else>>Your professors were mostly kind, if not a little over-eager like they hadn’t seen real students in years. They also smiled in that too-wide way that always meant they were watching for the smart ones, and you raised your hand once or twice just enough to leave an impression. You nodded thoughtfully. You made eye contact. You took notes.
Lunch came and went in a blur of noise and two Clif Bars before a can of $MC_favoritedrink jolted your blood just enough to carry you through the second-to-last class; an hour spent under the enthusiastic guidance of a professor who moved like he’d injected caffeine into his veins directly through an IV.
And then, it was time for your last class of the day at <strong>3:30 p.m.</strong>
You’d already walked past one classroom twice at Linsly-Chittenden Hall and were beginning to wonder if Room 102 had been moved to some other dimension when you caught a flash of familiar dirty blonde hair near a hallway arch.
<div id="centered"><<link "$W_name." "Ch 4.58">><</link>></div>
/*[[Ch 4.58]]*/<</if>>You almost didn’t say anything. $W_HeShe looked exactly how you remembered $W_himher from Thursday night, flushed under your floor’s hallway lights, but now in the stark daylight of campus, $W_heshe looked slightly less like someone from a migraine-induced dream and slightly more real.
$W_HeShe was turning slowly in place, clearly lost, $W_hisher gaze skimming the plaques above each door like $W_heshe was hoping one would change mid-step and make $W_hisher life easier.
You hovered on your next breath. There was no real reason to talk to $W_himher. You could’ve walked right past and let the moment scatter away. But there was a faint but insistent pull in your chest, like a magnet beneath your ribs. Before you knew it, you were walking toward $W_himher.
“Hey!” you called out, voice lifted gently above the quiet of the corridor.
$W_name turned. The look that crossed $W_hisher face was surprise first with $W_hisher eyes wide and spine straightening, but it gave way, slowly, to something warmer. The light in $W_hisher sapphire eyes caught the hallway glow, and it flickered like sunlight off a lake.
“Hi,” $W_heshe said.
“$W_name, right?” you asked.
At that, something in $W_hisher face changed. The brightness in $W_hisher eyes dimmed, and $W_heshe nodded wordlessly.
“Are you looking for a class too?”
“Yeah. I… got a little lost. I’m not very good at directions.” As $W_heshe said it, $W_heshe looked at you like those words were supposed to mean something to you. You honestly had no idea what $W_heshe was expecting from you.
“Okay, which room?”
$W_name turned $W_hisher eyes down. “Room 102.”
You gave $W_himher a small smile. “That’s my next class, too. Do you want to walk together?”
There was a pause.
$W_HeShe gazed up and at you like $W_heshe was trying to read something written behind your eyes, something you didn’t even know you were showing. The silence stretched long enough that you began to wonder if $W_heshe was about to just turn and walk in the opposite direction, pretend this never happened, ditch the class entirely rather than spend five minutes walking with you.
<div id="centered"><<link 'But then, quietly, almost shyly, $W_heshe said, “Yes, I’d like that.”' "Ch 4.59">><</link>></div>
/*[[Ch 4.59]]*/And so you walked together. Step by step. You could feel $W_name’s gaze flick to you occasionally, almost as if $W_heshe was checking to make sure you hadn’t vanished. You were unsure how to name the strange atmosphere between you two or whether it would last past the next bend in the hallway.
You didn’t know what to say, and judging from the fact that $W_heshe was keeping $W_hisher mouth shut, $W_heshe didn’t either, so you let the uncertain silence settle. Two people lost in a maze and temporarily choosing the same thread to follow.
Eventually, you reached Room 102 together.
The classroom was massive. Fixed seating rose in tiered rows, rows and rows of it, enough to hold nearly 170 bodies. Each seat had that polished metal armrest and a tiny mahogany desk attached to it that folded up and down from the side. The lights overhead were way too bright, and the shades were drawn just enough to darken the windows but not enough to make it cozy.
At the front of the room, the instructor’s desk sat like a general’s podium: outfitted with an AV system, a Blu-ray player, monitor, lecture capture setup, a projector that loomed like an all-seeing eye. There were at least three microphones—handheld, lapel, and podium—because apparently the acoustics of the room weren’t trusted. A pair of chalkboards sprawled side by side across the wall behind the desk, currently wiped clean.
You decided to take a seat:
*[[in the front.|Ch 4.60][$MC_seat to "front"]]
*[[near the middle.|Ch 4.60][$MC_seat to "middle"]]
*[[in the back.|Ch 4.60][$MC_seat to "back"]]
$W_name hesitated for a bit under the classroom’s doorway before $W_heshe moved and took the seat to your right.
You were already pulling out your iPad, stylus tucked between your fingers, the screen lighting up with your Goodnotes 6 app and a blank folder titled with the course code and name. You were halfway through checking your battery when $W_hisher voice came again.
“Do you <em>really</em> not remember me?”
You turned to $W_himher. The expression on $W_hisher face was too old for $W_hisher age, like longing softened by years and miles. You furrowed your brows and stared at $W_himher, searching for something in the tilt of $W_hisher jaw, the shape of $W_hisher mouth, the dark gold lashes that caught the light just right. $W_HeShe was clearly certain $W_heshe knew you.
But you came up blank. A vast, white emptiness where memory should have lived.
“I really don’t,” you said gently, watching for the way the words would land.
$W_HisHer face faltered again. But then $W_heshe nodded, accepting it with a worn-down sadness, as if $W_heshe had prepared $W_himself for this moment and it still managed to bruise $W_himher.
You glanced back toward the door, then said, “Whoever it is you’re looking for, they must’ve looked a lot like me.”
$W_name gave a short, breathy laugh. “We were childhood friends. They used to come down to my state every summer. We’d do everything together. Ponds, abandoned houses, ghost stories, bikes with broken chains. Then one year they stopped coming.”
The tenderness in $W_hisher voice made it clear that the memories still belonged to $W_himher, even if the person $W_heshe was talking about didn’t.
You smiled, a little wistful for something that hadn’t happened to you. A nostalgia borrowed through the timbre of someone else’s voice. “I hope you find them then. I really do.”
$W_HeShe smiled back, though it looked more like pain folded up between $W_hisher lips.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.61">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.61]]*/The room around you began to fill, voices rising, sneakers squeaking against wooden floorboards, the smell of coffee and newness and too many classes drifting in with the students. Amongst them was $V_name, scanning the room with a quick flick of $V_hisher eyes before they landed on you.
$V_HisHer face lit up. $V_HeShe waved, easy and warm, and you returned it as $V_heshe made $V_hisher way over, slipping into the seat to your left with the soft thump of $V_hisher well-worn bag landing between $V_hisher feet.
“$V_name, this is $W_name,” you said, gesturing between them. “$W_name, meet $V_name. $V_HeShe’s my suitemate.”
The blonde $W_guy gave a polite nod. $V_name smiled, always friendly, though also with a touch of polite distance.
You turned to $V_himher, grateful for the normalcy in $V_hisher presence. “How were your classes?”
$V_HeShe perked up instantly, already launching into a summary of $V_hisher Greek grammar class.
“After discussing the syllabus, we started going over first and second declensions,” $V_heshe said, voice animated, hands moving a little as if the syntax still clung to $V_hisher fingers. “Professor Sampras makes everything sound like he personally discovered it in a tomb. Like: <em>feast your eyes on the accusative plural—</em>”
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.62">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.62]]*/But then, as $V_name continued talking, you felt a sudden, eerie prickle at the back of your neck. The unmistakable sensation of being watched, and not passively either.
Your words fell short. You turned your head slowly, scanning the lecture hall.
And there, in the front row, like a statue that had always been there but only now looked your way—
$C_name. $C_HisHer pale green eyes fixed on you with an intensity that could melt glass. The gaze was all dagger and ice.
You blinked, caught in it. The force of $C_hisher gaze was so palpable it felt like a weight dragging at your collarbones.
Oh right, when they said every student from Rathore College was mandated to attend this class, they meant <em>every</em> student.
*<<link "You rolled your eyes and subtly flipped $C_himher off." "Ch 4.63.1">><<set $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100); $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100); $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100); $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100); $stat1 to "Sarcastic"; $stat2 to "Arrogant">><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.63.1]]*/
*[[You wiggled your eyebrows before sticking your tongue out.|Ch 4.63.2][$Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Laidback", $stat2 to "Friendly"]]
*<<link "You raised an eyebrow as if daring for $C_himher to try something." "Ch 4.63.3">><<set $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100); $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100); $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100); $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100); $stat1 to "Aloof"; $stat2 to "Uptight">><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.63.3]]*/
*<<link "You felt yourself growing shy under $C_hisher gaze and ducked your head. [♥]" "Ch 4.63.4">><<set $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100); $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100); $C_romance to $C_romance+1>><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.63.4]]*/
*<<link "You winked at $C_himher flirtatiously before blowing a kiss. [♥]" "Ch 4.63.5">><<set $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100); $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100); $C_romance to $C_romance+1>><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.63.5]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>You raised your hand under the guise of scratching your temple before letting your fingers fall into a subtle yet unmistakable gesture: a middle-fingered salute masked in apathy. It was juvenile, sure, but immensely satisfying.
$C_name didn’t miss it. $C_HisHer head tilted, just slightly, as though you were a bird doing something mildly amusing outside the lecture hall window. Then $C_heshe mouthed something back at you across the room, something that looked suspiciously like “Real mature”, before blinking slowly and mockingly. It was strangely reminiscent of a cat pretending it hadn’t just knocked something off a shelf on purpose.
You looked away, trying not to laugh.
Beside you, both $V_name and $W_name noticed your shift in focus. Their heads turned almost in unison, following your line of sight until they found what you were looking at.
“Do you know that $C_guy?” $V_name asked curiously.
You were just about to answer $V_himher when there was a sudden silence that fell over the lecture hall. Conversations tapered off mid-sentence. Laughter withered on lips. Even the tapping of pens against desks faltered. You turned toward the front of the room, trying to see the reason why everyone had turned into such dramatics.
<div id="centered">[[Professor Carstairs had arrived.|Ch 4.64]]</div><<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>You met $C_hisher gaze with all the seriousness of a misbehaving raccoon. A dramatic double eyebrow wiggle and your tongue stuck out like a kindergartener. You were clearly on a mission to annoy $C_himher at the moment.
Across the room, $C_name blinked like you’d just committed a war crime. $C_HisHer posture stiffened so suddenly it was like someone had replaced $C_hisher spine with a tuning fork. Then—
…Was that a stifled snort?
$C_HeShe leaned back in $C_hisher chair like $C_heshe wasn’t rattled at all, casually looking away like $C_heshe had better things to do than respond to your childish behavior. But $C_hisher shoulders were shaking too traitorously to make it seem like $C_heshe had rudely dismissed you. Success.
$MC_surname: 1
Lacroix: 0
Beside you, both $V_name and $W_name noticed your shift in focus. Their heads turned almost in unison, following your line of sight until they found what you were looking at.
“Do you know that $C_guy?” $V_name asked curiously.
You were just about to answer $V_himher when there was a sudden silence that fell over the lecture hall. Conversations tapered off mid-sentence. Laughter withered on lips. Even the tapping of pens against desks faltered. You turned toward the front of the room, trying to see the reason why everyone had turned into such dramatics.
<div id="centered">[[Professor Carstairs had arrived.|Ch 4.64]]</div><<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>You didn’t shrink under the weight of $C_hisher stare. Instead, you met it with the calm defiance of someone who’d learned to tame fire by looking it dead in the eye. One brow arched, slow and deliberate. A question and a challenge rolled into one expression.
Across the room, $C_name gave a small, tight-lipped smirk. It felt like $C_heshe was impressed at your gall, sure, but it also made you wonder if $C_heshe was going to duel you after class or write you poetry written in Latin before leaving it anonymously on your doorstep.
$C_HeShe drummed $C_hisher fingers against the desk in a steady rhythm, as if to say, <em>We’ll see how long your audacity lasts here</em>. Then, $C_heshe dismissed you by looking away.
Beside you, both $V_name and $W_name noticed your shift in focus. Their heads turned almost in unison, following your line of sight until they found what you were looking at.
“Do you know that $C_guy?” $V_name asked curiously.
You were just about to answer $V_himher when there was a sudden silence that fell over the lecture hall. Conversations tapered off mid-sentence. Laughter withered on lips. Even the tapping of pens against desks faltered. You turned toward the front of the room, trying to see the reason why everyone had turned into such dramatics.
<div id="centered">[[Professor Carstairs had arrived.|Ch 4.64]]</div><<notify 5s>>+ Shy<</notify>>The stare was too much. You felt it in your stomach first—like the flutter of moth wings against a night lamp—and then in your cheeks, which flushed with a traitorous warmth. You looked down at your desk, suddenly very interested in the wood grain.
You didn’t need to look up to know that $C_name was still watching. You could feel it catching on the back of your neck like a powerful flashlight. But you pretended not to, pretending this was all perfectly normal. Your fingers curled slightly around the edge of the table like they needed anchoring.
Across the hall, $C_name blinked. $C_HisHer expression shifted in just the tiniest flicker. $C_HeShe tapped a pen absentmindedly, but it was clear by the look on $C_hisher face that $C_heshe was confused by the internal response $C_heshe had in $C_hisher chest at your bashful reaction.
$C_HeShe looked away. But not before glancing back once more.
Beside you, both $V_name and $W_name noticed your shift in focus. Their heads turned almost in unison, following your line of sight until they found what you were looking at.
“Do you know that $C_guy?” $V_name asked curiously.
You were just about to answer $V_himher when there was a sudden silence that fell over the lecture hall. Conversations tapered off mid-sentence. Laughter withered on lips. Even the tapping of pens against desks faltered. You turned toward the front of the room, trying to see the reason why everyone had turned into such dramatics.
<div id="centered">[[Professor Carstairs had arrived.|Ch 4.64]]</div><<notify 5s>>+ Bold<</notify>>You locked eyes with $C_himher and held the gaze a beat longer than polite society would’ve advised. Then, with the kind of mischief usually reserved for people who are up to no good, you winked. Slowly. Followed by a theatrical kiss blown across the room, aimed straight at $C_himher.
There was a clatter. You weren’t sure what exactly $C_heshe’d managed to knock over, but the sound of it echoed delightfully even in the fairly noisy lecture hall.
$C_name looked personally offended by your audacity. $C_HisHer jaw tightened, like $C_heshe was preparing to call upon every ancient deity known to man to smite you where you smugly sat. $C_HeShe muttered something into $C_hisher knuckles. Possibly French, possibly a curse, possibly your name. You couldn’t be a hundred percent sure which.
$C_HeShe then proceeded to lean back in $C_hisher chair like $C_heshe wasn’t rattled at all, casually looking away like $C_heshe had better things to do. But the tips of $C_hisher ears betrayed $C_himher, turning traitorously red.
Beside you, both $V_name and $W_name noticed your shift in focus. Their heads turned almost in unison, following your line of sight until they found what you were looking at.
“Do you know that $C_guy?” $V_name asked curiously.
You were just about to answer $V_himher when there was a sudden silence that fell over the lecture hall. Conversations tapered off mid-sentence. Laughter withered on lips. Even the tapping of pens against desks faltered. You turned toward the front of the room, trying to see the reason why everyone had turned into such dramatics.
<div id="centered">[[Professor Carstairs had arrived.|Ch 4.64]]</div>
<table style="width:100%">
<tr>
<th>Course Code</th>
<th>Course Title</th>
<th>Professor</th>
<th>Location</th>
<th>Credit</th>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ENAS 1510</td>
<td>Multivariable Calculus for Engineers</td>
<td>Rachel Brooks</td>
<td>Mason Laboratory, 101</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>CHEM 1610</td>
<td>General Chemistry I</td>
<td>Javier Torres</td>
<td>Sterling Chemistry Laboratory (SCL), 110</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>CHEM 1340L</td>
<td>General Chemistry Laboratory I</td>
<td>Javier Torres</td>
<td>Sterling Chemistry Laboratory (SCL), Lab 18</td>
<td>0.5</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>PHYS 1700</td>
<td>University Physics for the Life Sciences</td>
<td>Vidura Adikaram</td>
<td>Sloane Physics Laboratory (SPL), 54</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>BIOL 1020</td>
<td>Principles of Cell Biology</td>
<td>Gregory Anderson</td>
<td>Kline Biology Tower (KBT), 117</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>RLST 1731</td>
<td>Evil, Ethics, and the Imagination</td>
<td>Kathryn Carstairs</td>
<td>Linsly-Chittenden Hall (LC), 102</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
</table><table style="width:100%">
<tr>
<th>Course Code</th>
<th>Course Title</th>
<th>Professor</th>
<th>Location</th>
<th>Credit</th>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>NSCI 1600</td>
<td>The Human Brain</td>
<td>Marcus Liu</td>
<td>Yale Science Building (YSB), 102</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>MATH 1200</td>
<td>Multivariable Calculus</td>
<td>Clara Young</td>
<td>Leet Oliver Memorial Hall (LOM) 305</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>CHEM 1700</td>
<td>Quantitative Foundations of General Chemistry</td>
<td>Sophia Grant</td>
<td>Sterling Chemistry Laboratory (SCL), 214</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>CHEM 1710L</td>
<td>Quantitative Foundations of General Chemistry Laboratory</td>
<td>Sophia Grant</td>
<td>Sterling Chemistry Laboratory (SCL), Lab 22</td>
<td>0.5</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>BIOL 1020</td>
<td>Principles of Cell Biology</td>
<td>Gregory Anderson</td>
<td>Kline Biology Tower (KBT), 117</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>RLST 1731</td>
<td>Evil, Ethics, and the Imagination</td>
<td>Kathryn Carstairs</td>
<td>Linsly-Chittenden Hall (LC), 102</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
</table><table style="width:100%">
<tr>
<th>Course Code</th>
<th>Course Title</th>
<th>Professor</th>
<th>Location</th>
<th>Credit</th>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>PSYC 1400</td>
<td>Developmental Psychology</td>
<td>Alka Menon</td>
<td>Sheffield-Sterling-Strathcona Hall (SSS), 114</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>PSYC 1600</td>
<td>The Human Brain</td>
<td>Marcus Liu</td>
<td>Yale Science Building (YSB), 102</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>S&DS 1080</td>
<td>Introduction to Statistics: Advanced Fundamentals</td>
<td>Calvin Dawson</td>
<td>Watson Center, A-60</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>CHEM 1700</td>
<td>Quantitative Foundations of General Chemistry</td>
<td>Sophia Grant</td>
<td>Sterling Chemistry Laboratory (SCL), 214</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>CHEM 1710L</td>
<td>Quantitative Foundations of General Chemistry Laboratory</td>
<td>Sophia Grant</td>
<td>Sterling Chemistry Laboratory (SCL), Lab 22</td>
<td>0.5</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>RLST 1731</td>
<td>Evil, Ethics, and the Imagination</td>
<td>Kathryn Carstairs</td>
<td>Linsly-Chittenden Hall (LC), 102</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
</table><table style="width:100%">
<tr>
<th>Course Code</th>
<th>Course Title</th>
<th>Professor</th>
<th>Location</th>
<th>Credit</th>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>PLSC 0223</td>
<td>Lincoln in Thought and Action</td>
<td>Benjamin Holt</td>
<td>William L. Harkness Hall (WLH), 119</td>
<td>0.5</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>PLSC 1202</td>
<td>American Constitutionalism: Power and its Limits</td>
<td>Linh Nguyen</td>
<td>Luce Hall, 101</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>PLSC 1222</td>
<td>Introduction to American Politics</td>
<td>Ashton Reed</td>
<td>Luce Hall, 104</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>PLSC 1327</td>
<td>Introduction to Political Philosophy</td>
<td>David Simmons</td>
<td>Connecticut Hall, 101</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>EDST 1144</td>
<td>Race, Ethnicity, and Immigration</td>
<td>Quentin Morales</td>
<td>Rosenkranz Hall, 05</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>RLST 1731</td>
<td>Evil, Ethics, and the Imagination</td>
<td>Kathryn Carstairs</td>
<td>Linsly-Chittenden Hall (LC), 102</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
</table><table style="width:100%">
<tr>
<th>Course Code</th>
<th>Course Title</th>
<th>Professor</th>
<th>Location</th>
<th>Credit</th>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>SOCY 0074</td>
<td>Race and Place in British New Wave, K-Pop, and Beyond</td>
<td>Hannah Kim</td>
<td>William L. Harkness Hall, (WLH) 201</td>
<td>0.5</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>SOCY 1012</td>
<td>Foundations in Education Studies</td>
<td>Meghan Koelle</td>
<td>Rosenkranz Hall, 08</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>SOCY 1047</td>
<td>Introduction to Social Policy Analysis</td>
<td>Dhruv Sharma</td>
<td>Luce Hall, 203</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>SOCY 1283</td>
<td>Computers, Networks, and Society</td>
<td>Felix Wong</td>
<td>Davies Auditorium, Becton Center</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>SOCY 1700</td>
<td>Race, Ethnicity, and Immigration</td>
<td>Quentin Morales</td>
<td>Rosenkranz Hall, 05</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>RLST 1731</td>
<td>Evil, Ethics, and the Imagination</td>
<td>Kathryn Carstairs</td>
<td>Linsly-Chittenden Hall (LC), 102</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
</table><table style="width:100%">
<tr>
<th>Course Code</th>
<th>Course Title</th>
<th>Professor</th>
<th>Location</th>
<th>Credit</th>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>HIST 0722</td>
<td>What History Teaches</td>
<td>Arthur von Chobiak</td>
<td>Humanities Quadrangle, 132</td>
<td>0.5</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>HIST 1305</td>
<td>Introduction to Latin American Studies: History, Culture and Society</td>
<td>Diego Alvarez</td>
<td>Luce Hall, 204</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>HIST 1120</td>
<td>American Environmental History</td>
<td>Elizabeth Edelstein</td>
<td>William L. Harkness Hall (WLH), 207</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>HIST 1122</td>
<td>America at 250: A History</td>
<td>George Sullivan</td>
<td>Humanities Quadrangle, 215</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>HIST 1130</td>
<td>History of Anti-Black Racism and Medicine</td>
<td>Kierra Coleman</td>
<td>Sloane Physics Laboratory, Room 207</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>RLST 1731</td>
<td>Evil, Ethics, and the Imagination</td>
<td>Kathryn Carstairs</td>
<td>Linsly-Chittenden Hall (LC), 102</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
</table><table style="width:100%">
<tr>
<th>Course Code</th>
<th>Course Title</th>
<th>Professor</th>
<th>Location</th>
<th>Credit</th>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ECON 1108</td>
<td>Quantitative Foundations of Microeconomics</td>
<td>Vitomir Damjanić</td>
<td>Watson Center, A-51</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ECON 1110</td>
<td>An Introduction to Microeconomic Analysis</td>
<td>Aisha Patel</td>
<td>William L. Harkness Hall (WLH), 208</td>
<td>0.5</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>PHIL 1175</td>
<td>Introduction to Ethics</td>
<td>Jonah Morrison</td>
<td>Phelps Hall, 401</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>PLSC 1222</td>
<td>Introduction to American Politics</td>
<td>Ashton Reed</td>
<td>Luce Hall, 104</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>PLSC 1413</td>
<td>Comparative Politics: States, Regimes, and Conflict</td>
<td>Oisín Gallagher</td>
<td>Rosenkranz Hall, 06</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>RLST 1731</td>
<td>Evil, Ethics, and the Imagination</td>
<td>Kathryn Carstairs</td>
<td>Linsly-Chittenden Hall (LC), 102</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
</table><table style="width:100%">
<tr>
<th>Course Code</th>
<th>Course Title</th>
<th>Professor</th>
<th>Location</th>
<th>Credit</th>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ART 0706</td>
<td>Art of the Printed Word</td>
<td>Margot Bennett</td>
<td>Green Hall, Art Studio 112</td>
<td>0.5</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ART 1111</td>
<td>Visual Thinking</td>
<td>Francesco Rivaroli</td>
<td>Green Hall, Art Studio 115</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ART 1514</td>
<td>Basic Drawing</td>
<td>Oliver Wendell</td>
<td>Green Hall, Drawing Studio 202</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ART 1516</td>
<td>Color Practice</td>
<td>Jessica Hopkins</td>
<td>Green Hall, Art Studio 118</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>HSAR 1110</td>
<td>Introduction to the History of Art: Global Decorative Arts</td>
<td>Ana Teixeira</td>
<td>Loria Center, 351</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>RLST 1731</td>
<td>Evil, Ethics, and the Imagination</td>
<td>Kathryn Carstairs</td>
<td>Linsly-Chittenden Hall (LC), 102</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
</table><table style="width:100%">
<tr>
<th>Course Code</th>
<th>Course Title</th>
<th>Professor</th>
<th>Location</th>
<th>Credit</th>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ARCH 0001</td>
<td>Architectures of Urbanism: Thinking, Seeing, Writing the Just City</td>
<td>Leota Fruean</td>
<td>Rudolph Hall, 301</td>
<td>0.5</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ARCH 1001</td>
<td>Introduction to Architecture</td>
<td>James Levine</td>
<td>Rudolph Hall, 114</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ARCH 1300</td>
<td>Drawing Architecture</td>
<td>Nathan van den Broeck</td>
<td>Rudolph Hall, Studio 204</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ARCH 1400</td>
<td>Introduction to Structures</td>
<td>Maria Serrano</td>
<td>Rudolph Hall, 322</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ARCH 2001</td>
<td>History of Architecture to 1750</td>
<td>Patrick Yao</td>
<td>Loria Center, 360</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>RLST 1731</td>
<td>Evil, Ethics, and the Imagination</td>
<td>Kathryn Carstairs</td>
<td>Linsly-Chittenden Hall (LC), 102</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
</table><table style="width:100%">
<tr>
<th>Course Code</th>
<th>Course Title</th>
<th>Professor</th>
<th>Location</th>
<th>Credit</th>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>HSAR 0024</td>
<td>Nation and Empire in British Art</td>
<td>Duncan MacLeod</td>
<td>Loria Center, 351</td>
<td>0.5</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>HSAR 1110</td>
<td>Introduction to the History of Art: Global Decorative Arts</td>
<td>Matthew Clarke</td>
<td>Loria Center, 354</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>HSAR 1170</td>
<td>Nature and Art, or The History of Almost Everything</td>
<td>Emory Lewis</td>
<td>Loria Center, 359</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>HSAR 1690</td>
<td>Architecture, Art and Social Justice</td>
<td>Terrence Tucker</td>
<td>Loria Center, 250</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ART 1111</td>
<td>Visual Thinking</td>
<td>Francesco Rivaroli</td>
<td>Green Hall, Art Studio 115</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>RLST 1731</td>
<td>Evil, Ethics, and the Imagination</td>
<td>Kathryn Carstairs</td>
<td>Linsly-Chittenden Hall (LC), 102</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
</table><table style="width:100%">
<tr>
<th>Course Code</th>
<th>Course Title</th>
<th>Professor</th>
<th>Location</th>
<th>Credit</th>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ENGL 0133</td>
<td>Words, Words, Words: The Structure and History of English Words</td>
<td>Charles Furgeson</td>
<td>Linsly-Chittenden Hall (LC), 205</td>
<td>0.5</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ENGL 1014</td>
<td>Writing Seminars</td>
<td>István Horváth</td>
<td>Linsly-Chittenden Hall (LC), 318</td>
<td>0.5</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ENGL 1015</td>
<td>Literature Seminar</td>
<td>Michelle Briggs</td>
<td>Linsly-Chittenden Hall (LC), 319</td>
<td>0.5</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ENGL 1025</td>
<td>Readings in English Poetry I</td>
<td>Gabriel Reynolds</td>
<td>Linsly-Chittenden Hall (LC), 209</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ENGL 1026</td>
<td>Readings in English Poetry II</td>
<td>Gabriel Reynolds</td>
<td>Linsly-Chittenden Hall (LC), 209</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ENGL 1027</td>
<td>Readings in American Literature</td>
<td>Cynthia Wright</td>
<td>Linsly-Chittenden Hall (LC), 317</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>RLST 1731</td>
<td>Evil, Ethics, and the Imagination</td>
<td>Kathryn Carstairs</td>
<td>Linsly-Chittenden Hall (LC), 102</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
</table><table style="width:100%">
<tr>
<th>Course Code</th>
<th>Course Title</th>
<th>Professor</th>
<th>Location</th>
<th>Credit</th>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>CPLT 0310</td>
<td>Six Global Perspectives on Poetry</td>
<td>Ezra Jenkins</td>
<td>Whitney Humanities Center (WHC), 208</td>
<td>0.5</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>CPLT 1010</td>
<td>Writing Literature: Doubles, Doppelgängers, and the Boundaries of the Self</td>
<td>Rita Sengupta</td>
<td>Whitney Humanities Center (WHC), 116</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>CPLT 1300</td>
<td>Fundamentals of Comparison</td>
<td>Nicholas Halborn</td>
<td>Whitney Humanities Center (WHC), 204</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>CPLT 1540</td>
<td>The Bible as a Literature</td>
<td>Lucy Glendale</td>
<td>Whitney Humanities Center (WHC), 108</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ENL 1029</td>
<td>Tragedy in the European Literary Tradition</td>
<td>Henry Campbell</td>
<td>Linsly-Chittenden Hall (LC), 211</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>RLST 1731</td>
<td>Evil, Ethics, and the Imagination</td>
<td>Kathryn Carstairs</td>
<td>Linsly-Chittenden Hall (LC), 102</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
</table><table style="width:100%">
<tr>
<th>Course Code</th>
<th>Course Title</th>
<th>Professor</th>
<th>Location</th>
<th>Credit</th>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ANTH 0661</td>
<td>Understanding Human Origins</td>
<td>Felicia Miller</td>
<td>10 Sachem Street, Room 105</td>
<td>0.5</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ANTH 1172</td>
<td>Great Hoaxes and Fantasies in Archaeology</td>
<td>Lila Thompson</td>
<td>10 Sachem Street, Room 114</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ANTH 1548L</td>
<td>Hormones and Behavior Lab</td>
<td>Omar Khan</td>
<td>Yale Science Building (YSB), Lab 210</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ANTH 1812</td>
<td>Agent, Person, Subject, Self</td>
<td>Roderick Allen</td>
<td>10 Sachem Street, Room 213</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ANTH 1840</td>
<td>The Corporation</td>
<td>Denis Gauthier</td>
<td>10 Sachem Street, Room 104</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>RLST 1731</td>
<td>Evil, Ethics, and the Imagination</td>
<td>Kathryn Carstairs</td>
<td>Linsly-Chittenden Hall (LC), 102</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
</table><table style="width:100%">
<tr>
<th>Course Code</th>
<th>Course Title</th>
<th>Professor</th>
<th>Location</th>
<th>Credit</th>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>CLCV 0531</td>
<td>The Age of Cleopatra</td>
<td>Sana Ragab</td>
<td>Phelps Hall, 401</td>
<td>0.5</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>CLCV 1381</td>
<td>Mesopotamia's Literary Legacy</td>
<td>Raymond Stark</td>
<td>Phelps Hall, 405</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>EGYP 1100</td>
<td>Introduction to Classical Hieroglyphic Egyptian I</td>
<td>Nader Awad</td>
<td>Phelps Hall, 406</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>NELC 1200</td>
<td>Unequal: Dynamics of Power and Social Hierarchy in Ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia</td>
<td>Salma Darwish</td>
<td>Phelps Hall, 407</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>NELC 1250</td>
<td>Ancient Mesopotamia: The First Half of History</td>
<td>Malin Lindqvist</td>
<td>Phelps Hall, 408</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>RLST 1731</td>
<td>Evil, Ethics, and the Imagination</td>
<td>Kathryn Carstairs</td>
<td>Linsly-Chittenden Hall (LC), 102</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
</table><table style="width:100%">
<tr>
<th>Course Code</th>
<th>Course Title</th>
<th>Professor</th>
<th>Location</th>
<th>Credit</th>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ASTR 0400</td>
<td>Expanding Ideas of Time and Space</td>
<td>Isaac Faison</td>
<td>Leitner Family Observatory, Seminar Room</td>
<td>0.5</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ASTR 1100</td>
<td>Planet and Stars</td>
<td>Andrew Reyne</td>
<td>Sloane Physics Laboratory (SPL), 59</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ASTR 1550</td>
<td>Introduction to Astronomical Observing</td>
<td>Erna Sveinsdóttir</td>
<td>Leitner Family Observatory, Lab 101</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>PHYS 1800</td>
<td>University Physics</td>
<td>Alexander Lynch</td>
<td>Sloane Physics Laboratory (SPL), 57</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>MATH 1150</td>
<td>Calculus of Functions of One Variable II</td>
<td>Megan Myers</td>
<td>Leet Oliver Memorial Hall (LOM), 206</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>RLST 1731</td>
<td>Evil, Ethics, and the Imagination</td>
<td>Kathryn Carstairs</td>
<td>Linsly-Chittenden Hall (LC), 102</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
</table><table style="width:100%">
<tr>
<th>Course Code</th>
<th>Course Title</th>
<th>Professor</th>
<th>Location</th>
<th>Credit</th>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>CPSC 1230</td>
<td>YData: An Introduction to Data Science</td>
<td>Ethan Ferrell</td>
<td>Davies Auditorium, Becton Center</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>CPSC 1710</td>
<td>Introduction to AI Applications</td>
<td>Gëzim Hoxha</td>
<td>Arthur K. Watson Hall (AKW), 200</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>CPSC 2010</td>
<td>Introduction to Computer Science</td>
<td>Tamir Tserendorj</td>
<td>Arthur K. Watson Hall (AKW), 100</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>CPSC 2020</td>
<td>Mathematical Tools for Computer Science</td>
<td>Robert Klein</td>
<td>Arthur K. Watson Hall (AKW), 108</td>
<td>0.5</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>MATH 1150</td>
<td>Calculus of Functions of One Variable II</td>
<td>Megan Myers</td>
<td>Leet Oliver Memorial Hall (LOM), 206</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>RLST 1731</td>
<td>Evil, Ethics, and the Imagination</td>
<td>Kathryn Carstairs</td>
<td>Linsly-Chittenden Hall (LC), 102</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
</table><table style="width:100%">
<tr>
<th>Course Code</th>
<th>Course Title</th>
<th>Professor</th>
<th>Location</th>
<th>Credit</th>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ENAS 1180</td>
<td>Introduction to Engineering, Innovation, and Design</td>
<td>Irene Lang</td>
<td>Mason Laboratory, 107</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>ENAS 1300</td>
<td>Introduction to Computing for Engineers and Scientists</td>
<td>Douglas Lemmeck</td>
<td>Mason Laboratory, 110</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>MENG 1105</td>
<td>Mechanical Design</td>
<td>Justin Caldwell</td>
<td>Mason Laboratory, Design Studio 203</td>
<td>0.5</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>MATH 1150</td>
<td>Calculus of Functions of One Variable II</td>
<td>Megan Myers</td>
<td>Leet Oliver Memorial Hall (LOM), 206</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>PHYS 1800</td>
<td>University Physics</td>
<td>Alexander Lynch</td>
<td>Sloane Physics Laboratory (SPL), 57</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td>RLST 1731</td>
<td>Evil, Ethics, and the Imagination</td>
<td>Kathryn Carstairs</td>
<td>Linsly-Chittenden Hall (LC), 102</td>
<td>1.0</td>
</tr>
</table>She moved with the unhurried pace of someone who had never once in her life needed to run for anything. The lecture hall seemed to part for her, not physically of course, but in mood. And maybe it was just your imagination, but even the lights above seemed to dim in deference.
She was dressed in her black slacks that were so sharply pressed that they could probably slit paper, a button-up that looked ironed within an inch of its life, and a long coat the color of ashes. Her hair, black as a raven’s feathers, was pulled back into a chignon so severe it could have held its own in a debate.
You watched her in quiet fascination. She didn’t look like someone who had smiled today. She didn’t look like someone who smiled ever, if you were being completely honest.
Still, you couldn’t help but be intrigued. You were good at observation when you wished to be. You’d been told so often enough that it no longer felt like a compliment. You could take someone apart with your eyes, cataloging the way their shoes were laced, the twitch in their left eye when they lied, the shift of their accent when they grew tired. People were full of clues, and you just happened to find plenty about your professor/academic advisor after hearing your share of theories.
You’d read the reviews on her Rate My Professor page. And then there were the things you'd heard whispered in corners of the dining hall or behind half-closed doors in library study rooms: She was a fraud. She was a genius. She never had a formal college education. She’d once been a rising star of philosophy during her university years, quoted in academic journals alongside Martha Nussbaum and Jürgen Habermas, but had fallen into obscurity after some unnamed scandal.
Some said she’d been friends with Louise Glück. Others said she had ghost wrote something for Terry Pratchett so that she would not have to take any credit.
There were whispers of ties to the current Pope. Or to an underworld crime family in one of the Slavic countries. Someone even once claimed she spoke Aramaic fluently and had helped decipher a recently discovered Gospel fragment.
The truth of any of it was never confirmed. She gave no interviews. Had no social media. These theories existed only in the spaces where stories had a tendency to gain a life of their own, regardless of who they were about.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.65">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.65]]*/Professor Carstairs took her place behind the podium, adjusting the microphone with her usual unsmiling grace, her hands steady and unhurried. “Welcome to <em>Evil, Ethics, and the Imagination</em>. If you're here because you think this course will help your lives get better, you’re in the wrong place.”
Someone behind you let out a soft, nervous laugh. You heard $W_name gulp beside you, a sound like someone trying not to drown in their own spit. Across your other side, $V_name shifted uncomfortably in $V_hisher chair, trying not to look like $V_heshe wanted to bolt.
The professor didn’t look at either of them. She didn’t look at anyone in particular. Her gaze hovered just over your heads, like a drone scanning for weakness.
“I am Dr. Kathryn Carstairs,” she went on, her voice effortlessly cutting through the lingering murmurs. “Woolsey Professor of Religious Studies. Professor of Ethics. I will be your instructor for this course, which, if you’d done the pre-reading, you would know is not mandatory for the faint-hearted, but rather mandatory in the strictest bureaucratic sense.”
Another pause. Still no smile. No one was laughing now.
“The syllabus,” she continued, “is uploaded on Canvas. Please consult it now. If you are unable to find it, I suggest you reconsider your eligibility for a higher education at Yale.”
There was a brief flurry of motion. Tablets snapping open like startled birds, laptops blinking to life, the soft rustle of paper from the one person in the back who clearly had something to prove. You unlocked your own iPad with hands that, though steady, felt curiously aware of themselves.
The login screen glared back at you, asking for credentials. You typed as quickly as humanly possible, fingers moving with muscle memory, because your brain had decided now was a great time to go blank.
Canvas loaded. The syllabus was there, right where she said it would be. A long PDF file, page after page of tightly written text, course description, learning objectives, required texts, and other information.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.66">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.66]]*/<h1>RLST 1731: Evil, Ethics, and the Imagination</h1>
<div id="centered">“The human being is the only creature that refuses to be what it is. And this refusal, this constant transcendence, is the source of both human glory and human misery.” – Albert Camus</div>
<h2>Course Description</h2>
This undergraduate course at Yale College will address the relationships between moral thought, certain religious belief perspectives, and creative imagination within the canon of Greek, Russian, and American literature. Students will explore authors' various perspectives regarding evil and ethics, the importance of those perspectives to their imagination, and how they come to terms with and portray evil in their imaginative works of art.
The course will raise philosophical questions about evil as a cultural phenomenon, the basis of ethical systems, and the role of the imagination in confronting and navigating questions of moral action. Students will encounter texts from different traditions and cultures, and will be able to develop a comparative perspective on how these perspectives define and respond to the problem of evil.
Discussion of course materials will take into account different cultural and religious belief systems in which disagreement concerning interpretations of evil and ethics can provoke emotions and controversy.
<h2>Learning Objectives</h2>
<ol>
<li>Discuss and analyze literary texts from the Greek, Russian, and American traditions to articulate the themes they produce regarding evil and ethical constructs.</li>
<li>Identify and speak to disparate philosophical and religious positions assuming moral responsibility and the nature of evil.</li>
<li>Critically assess the role of imagination when considering moral decision-making and moral philosophy.</li>
<li>Compare and contrast cultural stances to make sense of and respond to evil.</li>
<li>Create and articulate defendable positions on complicated ethical issues.</li>
</ol>
<h2>Required Texts</h2>
<ol>
<li>Homer, <em>The Iliad</em> (translated by Robert Fagles, Penguin Classics, 1990).</li>
<li>Sophocles, <em>Antigone</em> (translated by David Grene, University of Chicago Press, 1991).</li>
<li>Plato, <em>The Republic</em> (selected passages, translated by G.M.A. Grube, Hackett Publishing, 1992).</li>
<li>Fyodor Dostoevsky, <em>Crime and Punishment</em> (translated by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky, Vintage Classics, 1993).</li>
<li>Fyodor Dostoevsky, <em>The Brothers Karamazov</em> (selected chapters, translated by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky, Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2002).</li>
<li>Herman Melville, <em>Moby-Dick</em> (selected chapters, Norton Critical Edition, 2001).</li>
<li>Nathaniel Hawthorne, <em>The Scarlet Letter</em> (Penguin Classics, 2003).</li>
<li>Plato, <em>Euthyphro</em> (translated by G.M.A. Grube, Hackett Publishing, 1981).</li>
<li>Aristotle, <em>Nicomachean Ethics</em> (selected books, translated by Terence Irwin, Hackett Publishing, 1999).</li>
<li>Immanuel Kant, <em>Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals</em> (translated by James W. Ellington, Hackett Publishing, 1993).</li>
<li>Friedrich Nietzsche, <em>Beyond Good and Evil</em> (selected aphorisms, translated by Walter Kaufmann, Vintage, 1989).</li>
<li><em>The Bible</em> (selected passages, e.g., Book of Job, Gospels, New Revised Standard Version).</li>
<li><em>The Bhagavad Gita</em> (selected chapters, translated by Eknath Easwaran, Nilgiri Press, 2007).</li>
</ol>
<h2>Course Requirements and Grading Policy</h2>
<ol>
<li><strong>Attendance and Participation (10%):</strong></li>
<ul>
<li>Attendance at all class sessions is required and absences will affect the student's grade. Students are expected to come to class already having read and digested the materials listed on the syllabus for that day. </li>
<li>Students are also required to attend and actively participate in the class. This includes contributing to discussions, asking questions, and engaging respectfully with peers while acknowledging diverse perspectives on sensitive topics.</li>
</ul>
<li><strong>Assignments (20%):</strong></li>
<ul>
<li>Students will complete 4-5 response papers (6 pages each) analyzing specific readings and their treatment of evil, ethics, or imagination.</li>
<li>A 7-10 page research paper on a topic related to the course themes, incorporating at least two literary texts and one philosophical or religious text.</li>
</ul>
<li><strong>Midterm Exam (25%):</strong></li>
<ul>
<li>A midterm exam will assess students’ understanding of the course material covered in the first half of the semester. The exam will include short-answer questions and essay prompts focusing on key themes and texts.</li>
</ul>
<li><strong>Final Paper (45%):</strong></li>
<ul>
<li>A comprehensive 20 page paper that synthesizes the course themes, focusing on a comparative analysis of how different cultures address the problem of evil through literature. Students must incorporate texts from at least two cultural traditions (e.g., Greek and Russian) and engage with philosophical or religious frameworks.</li>
</ul>
</ol>
Grades will be determined by the incisiveness of the analysis, the degree to which you have engaged seriously with the texts, clarity of writing, and class participation. Your papers should show critical thought, clear argument, and attributions to sources. Late papers will be penalized 5% for each day past their due date, unless prior arrangements have been made with the instructor.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.67">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.67]]*/You felt more than saw the simultaneous reaction ripple through the lecture hall in the shapes of an invisible wave of panic, resignation, and caffeine-fueled alertness. $V_name leaned over just a bit to whisper, “Is it too late to drop out of Yale and start selling dropshopping courses online?”
You waited to answer until the professor was looking away from your general vicinity, mostly because you weren’t convinced she wouldn’t disintegrate anyone who interrupted her monologue.
*[[“I think it was already too late when Professor Carstairs walked through the door.”|Ch 4.68.1][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Sarcastic", $stat2 to "Friendly"]]
*[[“Honestly, I don’t want to jinx myself, but I think I can handle it.”|Ch 4.68.2][$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100), $Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist + 3, 0, 100), $Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Arrogant", $stat2 to "Optimist"]]
*[[“Be cool, be cool. We can do this. Showing fear will only make things worse.”|Ch 4.68.3][$Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Laidback", $stat2 to "Genuine"]]
*[[“I want to go home.”|Ch 4.68.4][$Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100), $Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist + 3, 0, 100), $Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Humble", $stat2 to "Pessimist"]]<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>You leaned in slightly, just enough for $V_name to hear you over the furious clicking of laptop keys and the rising tension in the room.
“It wouldn’t be a stretch to say I’ll probably see her in my nightmares tonight,” you murmured.
Your suitemate let out a poorly stifled laugh and smacked a hand over $V_hisher mouth. “Oh no. She heard that. I know she did.”
You both ducked instinctively as if evading divine judgment. Thankfully, Professor Carstairs’s hawk-like gaze was zeroed in enough on a pair of students on the opposite side of the lecture hall to really notice you two.
You could feel $W_name’s gaze on you both, and from the corner of your eyes, you saw $W_himher crack a tiny smile before shaking $W_hisher head and focusing on the syllabus on $W_hisher laptop.
Professor Carstairs cleared her throat, making everyone’s attention snap back towards her. “Now that you’ve had enough time to look over the syllabus, I’d like to get the introductory session started,” she announced before spreading her hands in front of her like a magician. “Let us now be poised to step out of the perceivable world and into the realm of the truly magnificent."
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.69">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.69]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>You straightened in your chair, squaring your shoulders like someone preparing to be knighted or guillotined.
“I mean, sure, she sounds like she might tear your exam results right in front of your eyes, but I heard she’s smart. Like, scary smart. I kind of want her to like me. I think I might cry if she compliments my paper.”
$V_name looked at you like you were speaking another language. “There’s an emotional masochistic side to you, huh.”
“Yep. It’s thanks to trauma. Keeps things interesting.”
You could feel $W_name’s gaze on you both, and from the corner of your eyes, you saw $W_himher crack a tiny smile before shaking $W_hisher head and focusing on the syllabus on $W_hisher laptop.
Professor Carstairs cleared her throat, making everyone’s attention snap back towards her. “Now that you’ve had enough time to look over the syllabus, I’d like to get the introductory session started,” she announced before spreading her hands in front of her like a magician. “Let us now be poised to step out of the perceivable world and into the realm of the truly magnificent."
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.69">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.69]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>“Think of it like surviving a horror movie,” you muttered. “We just need to make it through the first 90 minutes without splitting up or pressing any of the professor’s buttons.”
$V_name nodded seriously, playing along. “So that’s a no to asking questions for further clarification.”
“Absolutely not. That’s how you die.”
“What about: ‘This class doesn’t seem that bad’?”
“Instant death to whatever self-confidence you might have.”
You could feel $W_name’s gaze on you both, and from the corner of your eyes, you saw $W_himher crack a tiny smile before shaking $W_hisher head and focusing on the syllabus on $W_hisher laptop.
Professor Carstairs cleared her throat, making everyone’s attention snap back towards her. “Now that you’ve had enough time to look over the syllabus, I’d like to get the introductory session started,” she announced before spreading her hands in front of her like a magician. “Let us now be poised to step out of the perceivable world and into the realm of the truly magnificent."
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.69">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.69]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>You said it like a joke, but your voice cracked just a little on the word “home,” like maybe the joke was the only thing holding it together.
$V_name didn’t laugh like you expected.
$V_HeShe bumped $V_hisher shoulder gently against yours and whispered, “Me too.”
You both stared ahead, eyes fixed on the syllabus like it might bite. Which, honestly, you wouldn’t put past it.
You could feel $W_name’s gaze on you both, and from the corner of your eyes, you saw $W_himher crack a tiny smile before shaking $W_hisher head and focusing on the syllabus on $W_hisher laptop.
Professor Carstairs cleared her throat, making everyone’s attention snap back towards her. “Now that you’ve had enough time to look over the syllabus, I’d like to get the introductory session started,” she announced before spreading her hands in front of her like a magician. “Let us now be poised to step out of the perceivable world and into the realm of the truly magnificent."
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.69">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.69]]*/<<notify>>Saved!<</notify>>Dr. Kathryn Carstairs was a phenomenal speaker. Her voice was all texture and temperature, a philosophical weather system sweeping through the lecture hall and leaving quiet devastation in its wake. People around you sat up straight, breath half-held. Though some did look a little confused, everyone else was entranced. A few looked mildly afraid, like they were attending a séance instead of a lecture.
It was hard to take notes. Not because you weren’t paying attention but because the thoughts she gave you weren’t easily captured. They ran through your mind like water over stone, and you knew that to write them down too quickly would be to lose something essential. A paraphrased Carstairs was a pale imitation of the real thing. Every sentence she spoke came armed to the teeth.
“Within each of us,” she lectured as her icy blue eyes glinted as they swept across the students, “there thrives both a saint and a demon. What you call virtue another might call abomination. Some bind themselves to faith, others to rigid code, though we are all aware that definitions can change through the filter of time, place, upbringing. And yet, what is it we turn to when we wish to lose these definitions? Art? Drugs? Violence? What compass do we use to navigate the idea of good and evil when our own internal instruments are so inherently fallible?”
$W_name raised $W_hisher hand. $W_HisHer voice, when the professor nodded at $W_himher, was quiet but clear. “Does that mean that in order to be virtuous, we have to bind ourselves to a faith? To follow a god?”
You glanced at $W_himher, surprised. $W_HeShe wasn’t someone you thought would be interested in these kinds of topics. Or at least not the kind who’d throw $W_himself into questions that made a lot of people uncomfortable. But $W_heshe was looking right at Professor Carstairs, open-faced, genuinely curious.
She paused.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.70">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.70]]*/And then, to your astonishment—and, judging by the ripple through the room, everyone else’s—Professor Carstairs smiled. Not that it did anything to warm the room. Rather, it was more of a sharp, glacial curve of the mouth.
“Who said,” she asked, her voice steely, “that any god can be taken as the epitome of goodness?”
$V_name raised $V_hisher hand at that and the professor called on $V_himher.
“Isn’t God supposed to be that?” $V_heshe asked. “The picture of goodness? Every human is supposed to live by His word to be good? To receive eternal paradise?”
You glanced at $V_himher, and though $V_hisher tone was respectful, $V_hisher cross was suddenly heavier around $V_hisher neck. You could see the way $V_hisher hand hovered near it, not quite touching.
Professor Carstairs tilted her head slowly, like a clock shifting to a new hour. “Let me ask you something, $V_Mr. Næsholm: If God did indeed have faults, would any holy book <em>dare</em> to include them?”
$V_name pursed $V_hisher lips but didn’t say anything.
The professor waited a beat, then answered her own question. “No. Because perfection is a requirement of divinity in doctrine. But that's not how our reality works. The ancient Greeks knew that. They fully understood the gods were not perfect. That no divine being could be. They were jealous. Petty. Vengeful. Zeus had no qualms regarding raping mortals. Athena cursed women. Aphrodite ruined maidens’ lives for merely comparing their beauty to hers. Demeter starved the world for the actions of Hades. Hera punished innocents for her husband’s infidelities. Ares bathed in blood and called it valor. The gods were not good. Their worship was based mainly on fear. They were powerful, yes. But without their powers, they were just like the mortals they looked down upon.”
“Now. ” She said, her hands behind her back now. “Is it possible,” she asked slowly, “that the pursuit of goodness must exist outside divinity? That perhaps the gods are no better moral compasses than we are ourselves?”
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.71">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.71]]*/You raised your hand.
At the <em>exact</em> same time as $C_name.
Your eyes met across the rows of students. A silent stand-off between $MC_eyecolor and chalcedony green. $C_HeShe arched a brow, gritting $C_hisher teeth like you’d just snatched away $C_hisher favorite candy from $C_hisher hand.
Professor Carstairs glanced between the two of you, then pointed at you first. “Go ahead.”
$C_name huffed a quiet, mocking laugh, but $C_heshe said nothing. You swallowed and spoke.
“I think it has to,” you said. “The pursuit of goodness. It has to exist outside of gods, because if it didn’t, we’d be slaves to the personalities of beings more flawed than we are. The gods are metaphors. They're stories. They are the shadows of our worst instincts given shape.”
You paused, pulse fluttering before reciting a line from the Athenian tragedy, <em>Herakles</em>. “<em><<hovertip "[<em>Anglicisation (Greek)</em>] The god, to us, is nothing other than necessity. (O dé theós imín oudén állo í tó anankaíon.)">>Ὁ δὲ θεὸς ἡμῖν οὐδὲν ἄλλο ἢ τὸ ἀναγκαῖον.<</hovertip>></em> Euripides.”
A look passed through the professor’s eyes. But before you could gauge what it meant, $C_name cut in.
“That is <em>truly</em> a cute interpretation,” $C_heshe said dryly. “But have you considered that maybe the gods are more than metaphors? That they’re mirrors? That they <em>are</em> us? <em><<hovertip '[<em>Anglicisation (Greek)</em>] There will be a god who forces us to think. (Kaí theós éstai tis, ós imás anankásei froneín)'>>‘Καὶ θεὸς ἔσται τις, ὃς ἡμᾶς ἀναγκάσει φρονεῖν.’<</hovertip>></em>”
Did $C_heshe seriously use the Plato line from a book you both had to read during your junior year of high school? The green-eyed $C_guy smiled faintly, eyes flicking toward you like $C_heshe could tell exactly what you were thinking about.
You refused to flinch or back down.
Professor Carstairs said nothing for a moment, simply looking between the two of you with one hand on her lectern, while the other idly turned her chalk like a rosary.
<div id="centered">[[And then, finally, she said, “There’s truth in both your statements.”|Ch 4.72]]</div>“Humans, from the very moment we learned how to name the stars, have scrambled to splay ourselves in front of gods, as if that might persuade them not to crush us underfoot. And in return, what have the gods given us?”
She held up the index finger on her right hand. “Floods. Plagues. Wars. Famines. Earthquakes. Storms that drown cities. Fires that burn through forests and spines alike.”
Another pause. Another finger. “They say the gods are good. But how good can they be when they do not even know what harm is? When they are so far removed from the grit and tragedy of human life that they cannot distinguish between agony and ecstasy? Between offering and desecration?”
You swallowed. Around you, you could feel the room listening with rapt attention, wordless, mesmerized.
“The Grecian people,” she continued, “bless their repressed hearts, were highly civilized people. They were also more honest than we give them credit for. They understood what we’ve tried very hard to forget: that there is something older than logic, darker than morality. Something inside us that cannot be tamed by intellect or ethics. They couldn’t say it aloud, not always. Heresy was punished. Exile was a sentence. So they wrote instead. They hid truths in verse and veil, let meaning slip between the fingers of poetry and theater.”
She stepped out from behind the podium and walked slowly along the edge of the dais, eyes narrowed slightly.
“And yet,” she said, “for people so rigid, so orderly in their temples and laws, they were also prone to frenzy. To madness. To wild, unrepentant ecstasy. Dancing. Visions. Blood rites. Slaughter. They were not ashamed of it. They did not fear the loss of reason. They welcomed it. Some of them, anyway. And when the madness came, it was like something else took over. Something primal. There was no good or evil then, only pleasure. The Greeks wrote it down. Scholars recorded it. They weren’t sure what to make of it then, and neither are we now.”
She stopped walking. Turned to face the class again. “Some blamed wine for this loss of reason, others the gods. And yet none of these explain the extremity of it. Because it wasn’t the cookie-cutter definition of hysteria. Not in the traditional sense, at least. It was described to be a return into a state where our understanding of morals and rationality had no place to exist. Not man, but not entirely beast either.”
You raised your hand, slow and unsure.
Professor Carstairs’s eyes met yours. “Yes, $MC_Mr. $MC_surname?”
You tried to find your voice through the ringing in your ears. “Do you mean like Dionysus? And his <em>baccheia</em>?”
“Precisely,” she said with a pleased nod. “Dionysus was not just the god of wine. He also happened to be the god of release. Of insanity. Of the sacred and the savage. His rites were a triumph of barbarism over morals. A surrender to the deep pulse of an instinct that was older than civilization itself.”
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.73">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.73]]*/“<em>The Bacchae</em> has told us about the Maenads in acute detail,” she said. “How violent. How brutal. How beautiful. They were not what you’d expect. Delirious, yes. Enchanted, yes. Their minds drunk on twisted sanctitude, on lunacy which was as sweet as their young god’s wine. But you wouldn’t look at them and imagine how such delicate hands could tear a giant bull apart, strip bone from sinew like they were unraveling silk. You wouldn’t think those feet could crush a skull, not when they looked so dainty and moved so lightly through the underbrush, dancing as if their heels barely knew the touch of the earth.”
You could picture them now, impossibly clear in your mind; breathtaking but wild-eyed women lit only by a bonfire, skin silvered and slick with sweat, hair tangled with ivy and dirt.
Professor Carstairs continued. “They danced barefoot in the woods with blood on their ankles and moonlight in their mouths. Naked as a newborn babe. And the earth responded. The vines trembled. The roots quaked. Animals fled. Their fury was frightening, but so was their happiness. Their madness had no map,”—here her lip curled in the faintest shadow of a smile—“and certainly no mercy.”
You leaned forward without meaning to. A handful of other students did, too.
“If you refused to partake in their revelry,” she said, “if you turned your back on the wine and the drums and the dizzying perfume of the deific, Dionysus would <em>make</em> you join them. One way or another. Your body, your name, your past, your future, all of it obliterated. All that you were, all that you could’ve been, devoured by a hedonistic god who never asked to be worshipped kindly. The young god wanted blood on the leaves. Dirt in your mouth. Madness in your bones. And how could you, a mere mortal, tell him that his actions were evil? When to him, it was nothing more than the purest form of his blessing.”
She turned then, back to the blackboard. And with the piece of white chalk in her hand, she wrote a single word. Greek letters, curved and sharp: <strong>Ἐκστασις</strong>.
Phones came out all around you. Clicks. Scrambles. Silent flashes. A hundred different students were trying to translate what the professor was writing.
Your heart was galloping. You knew the word looked familiar, but you couldn’t quite pronounce it. The letters rearranged themselves, half-sensed, just out of reach—
Until beside you, $V_name inhaled sharply, as if $V_heshe'd just remembered how. And then $V_heshe whispered, half to $V_himself, voice catching on awe, “<em>Ekstasis</em>. To stand outside oneself. To lose yourself.”
$V_HeShe paused just for a few seconds before adding:
<div id="centered">[[“To be taken by something greater.”|Ch 4.74]]</div>You had a hard time sleeping that night.
Professor Carstairs’s voice clung to your thoughts like oil, stubbornly slick no matter how many times you turned over in bed. You tried to think of something else, maybe your schedule for next week, your dad, what $V_name had said over dinner about the Homeric meter. But none could shake the strange unease her lecture had left in your bones.
You tossed. You turned. Your pillow got flipped twice, your blanket twisted into some kind of vengeful python, and your patience with yourself drained out the window with every passing second.
“Ugh,” you groaned, half into your mattress. You fumbled blindly toward your nightstand, yanked your phone off the MagSafe charger, and squinted at the screen. <strong>12:37 a.m.</strong>
Great, it was already past midnight. And while it was technically Saturday with no classes, no lectures, nothing demanding you rise and shine with the smug glory of the overachievers, you still desperately wanted to fall asleep.
In a move born from exhaustion and existential boredom, you opened Safari and typed in <em>Bulldog Bulletin</em>. It was a forum for Yale students, but most considered it a cursed digital speakeasy for night owls, social updates, and the wildest rumours.
Signing up was a relatively easy and fast process. You used the same username you had on all your public socials, which meant if anyone stalked you later, it was your own fault. You told yourself it didn’t matter. You were <em>not</em> going to say anything weird. You just hoped you didn’t jinx yourself with that.
<<textbox "$MC_username" "Type in your username">> [[Log In|Ch 4.75]]The homepage was a disjointed, glowing mess of threads. People arguing about dining hall food. A long, occasionally unhinged debate over whether or not Harkness Tower was haunted (“I heard a ghost scream Bach,” someone had written in all caps). A photo of someone’s calc professor asleep on a bench. A poll asking if <em>The Iliad</em> was just glorified war fanfic. You scrolled. And scrolled. And kept scrolling.
A thread titled “CONFIRMED: TA HOOKING UP WITH SOPHOMORE???” had over one hundred replies and counting.
You clicked, unable to keep off your curiosity.
The original post was dramatically formatted like a conspiracy theory newsletter:
I’m not SAYING names (yet) but tell me WHY my TA who always acts like we’re annoying him was at the karaoke bar yesterday and left with someone who literally asked me where the Classics building was last year?
The replies were even more of a mess.
<strong>sadgirlie3</strong>: Ok but was it the hot TA with the dreads?
<strong>dogdayrover</strong>: Classics?? Oh those preppy nerds are not built for this drama.
<strong>inmediasrex</strong>: bro if it’s the TA from HIST 210 i will riot. that man is MARRIED ffs
<strong>fearandlatte</strong>: Can we please have ONE semester without student-TA situationships?? ONE???
You scrolled some more, liking a post that featured a blurry photo captioned “<em>saw this guy crying outside Sterling, hope you’re okay king</em>” and another that simply read “<em>what if Carstairs is a Gorgon trying to fit in with us mortals?</em>”
You paused at that one and quickly hit like before your academic advisor’s spirit could pop out of the screen.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.76">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.76]]*/You were about to log off the forum and attempt sleep again—possibly by knocking yourself unconscious with your own pillow—when you noticed a peculiar pattern rising like foam in the comment tides, same phrases cropping up: Bacchanalia this Saturday, Ishikawa basement at Rathore College, who’s got a spare laurel crown??
Curious, you clicked into the main thread. It had been posted by a user with a Bulldog badge next to their name (student admin) and was titled, in all caps:
<strong><div id="centered">RATHORE COLLEGE BACCHANALIA: DETAILS BELOW, DON’T BE STUPID</div></strong>
WHEN: Saturday, 6:00 p.m. – 1:00 a.m. (we stop at 1. do not test this, we will bring out the firehose again)
WHERE: Ishikawa Hall’s basement floor, a.k.a. The Underworld, a.k.a. The Big Empty
WHO: Rathore students ONLY (others need personal invites. you know who you are, and if you don’t, it’s not you)
DRESS CODE: Ancient Greece. Chiton, peplos, laurel wreaths. This is not a toga party.
FOOD/DRINKS: Free. Yes, free. Yes, even the fancy olives. Don’t steal the glassware again.
WARNING: <strong><em>WEAR. UNDERWEAR. For the love of all that is good. We are BEGGING you.</em></strong>
The comments section was filled up.
<strong>nineplustenistwentyone</strong>: if i see that one dude dressed in his temu trisha paytas shower curtains again i’m walking out 👋🚶♀️➡️
<div style="text-indent: 2em;">| <strong>emocootereater</strong>: gurl i’ll be calling campus security</div><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><strong>ionlypretendtoread</strong>: ok but where do i buy a peplos. like amazon? Is it same-day shipping?
<div style="text-indent: 2em;">| <strong>thankubeyonce</strong>: Ask your RA, they’ll hook you up with one</div><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><strong>snackietaylor</strong>: the food better be good this time with the tuition i’m paying. last year i bit someone and no one even noticed 😭
<div style="text-indent: 2em;">| <strong>nomastuvesuerte</strong>: knew they ate yo ass in the show for a reason 😒</div><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><div style="text-indent: 2em;">| <strong>snackietaylor</strong>: @nomastuvesuerte ???</div><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><strong>notearsleft2cry</strong>: Just a reminder to moisturize your knees if you’re wearing a chiton. Don’t make us suffer again 🙈
<div style="text-indent: 2em;">| <strong>lisa_muntz2</strong>: is this tommy shade??</div><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><div style="text-indent: 2em;">| <strong>jungkooksnipple</strong>: @lisa_muntz STOP TRYING TO OUTDO CLAIRO SHADE</div><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><div style="text-indent: 2em;">| <strong>americantomholland</strong>: @lisa_muntz count your days 😃🔪</div><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><strong>gaylorisntreal</strong>: reminder that last year a frosh came NAKED except for a belt and said “this is historically accurate”
<div style="text-indent: 2em;">| <strong>hellenism4lyfe</strong>: he’s not wrong tho 🤐</div><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><div style="text-indent: 2em;">| <strong>brodysgainz</strong>: [This comment has been removed by an admin]</div><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><strong>martinoplaystunes</strong>: do NOT pregame with the beers in the econ fridge it tastes like penis and undergrad loans
<div style="text-indent: 2em;">| <strong>martinplaystunes</strong>: *pennies</div><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><div style="text-indent: 2em;">| <strong>littleharmonica</strong>: oh nah gng, be who you are for your prideeee 🏳️🌈</div><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><div style="text-indent: 2em;">| <strong>martinplaystunes</strong>: @littleharmonica ts pmo icl 🥀</div><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><strong>jellybeansupmyass</strong>: Lol why do Rathorians have the most pretentious events known to man?
<div style="text-indent: 2em;">| <strong>mydearesthistoria</strong>: hating from outside of the club is crazy 😂 typical vanderbilts 🙄</div><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><div style="text-indent: 2em;">| <strong>rookurworld</strong>: this u? <em>“Bro can someone pls slide into my DMs and hook me up with the Bacchanalia invite?”</em></div><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><div style="text-indent: 2em;">| <strong>rathorepride88</strong>: @rookurworld end that flop </div><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><div style="text-indent: 2em;">| <strong>maggiesdoodles</strong>: Jealousy is a sin</div>
You wondered if the admins would be bringing in bouncers too, seeing as a lot of students from other residential colleges were also plotting to crash the party around the forum. You also didn’t miss the sheer irony of having to attend a Bacchanalia-themed event after the class you had with Professor Carstairs.
You sighed then, your eyelids were finally drooping as you saw that it was around <strong>1:15 a.m.</strong> You put your phone down, rolled onto your side. This time, sleep came easy and you welcomed it eagerly.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.77">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.77]]*/The next morning, you and $V_name had perched yourselves at the suite’s glass table, each with a cereal bowl in front of you.
$V_HeShe was eating Reese’s Puffs, which you soon figured were $V_hisher favorite. You, on the other hand…
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch4cereal" "Cheerios" autocheck>> had opted for Cheerios</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch4cereal" "Frosted Flakes" autocheck>> had opted for Frosted Flakes</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch4cereal" "Cinnamon Toast Crunch" autocheck>> had opted for Cinnamon Toast Crunch</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch4cereal" "Lucky Charms" autocheck>> had opted for Lucky Charms</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch4cereal" "Froot Loops" autocheck>> had opted for Froot Loops</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch4cereal" "Apple Jacks" autocheck>> had opted for Apple Jacks</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch4cereal" "Rice Krispies" autocheck>> had opted for Rice Krispies</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch4cereal" "Cap'n Crunch" autocheck>> had opted for Cap'n Crunch</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch4cereal" "Cocoa Pebbles" autocheck>> had opted for Cocoa Pebbles</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch4cereal" "Cocoa Puffs" autocheck>> had opted for Cocoa Puffs</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch4cereal" "Corn Flakes" autocheck>> had opted for Corn Flakes</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch4cereal" "Fruity Pebbles" autocheck>> had opted for Fruity Pebbles</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_ch4cereal" "Reese's Puffs" autocheck>> had also opted for Reese's Puffs</label>
“Let’s DoorDash something today,” you said after a few bites. “I don’t really feel like sitting in the dining hall.”
$V_name nodded, lifting $V_hisher spoon in agreement. Then suddenly, there was a knock at the door. You and your suitemate froze and looked at each other in confusion.
“Did you… order something?” you asked.
$V_name shook $V_hisher head. “Did you?”
You stood, mildly suspicious, and padded over to the door.
It creaked open to reveal $M_name, of all people, standing there with a cardboard box in hand and looking like $M_heshe’d spent most of the morning running around.
“Good morning,” $M_heshe said, with all the polite courtesy $M_heshe could muster.
“Morning,” you said, still holding your cereal bowl. “What brings you to our humble dwelling at this hour?”
“There’s a Bacchanalia-themed event tonight at Ishikawa Hall’s basement,” $M_name explained, nudging the box like it might leap into your arms of its own volition. “We’re distributing clothing for it. Dress code is Ancient Greek. Rathore’s enforcing it pretty strictly this year. No one’s getting in with a bedsheet draped around themself.”
You nodded slowly, some distant neuron firing as you remembered the Bulldog Bulletin thread from the night before. “Ah, yes. I did read about that while doomscrolling yesterday.”
$M_HeShe smiled. “Well then, you’re halfway there. The rest of the way is choosing what you’ll wear.”
$M_HeShe set the box down and opened it with a ceremonial air, revealing neatly folded fabric in shades of bone-white and soft cream, the linen wafted out a faint scent of rosemary and crushed thyme.
Your RA winced a little. “My apologies, the boxes of clothes were stored in the herb section of the hall’s pantry for like a week. Anyways, you can choose what you’d like to wear.”
You considered your options:
<<message 'If you have pectorals'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_bacchanaliaoutfit" "Exomis" autocheck>> Exomis</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_bacchanaliaoutfit" "ChitonP" autocheck>> Chiton</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_bacchanaliaoutfit" "HimationP" autocheck>> Himation</label><</message>>
<<message 'If you have breasts'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_bacchanaliaoutfit" "Peplos" autocheck>> Peplos</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_bacchanaliaoutfit" "ChitonB" autocheck>> Chiton</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_bacchanaliaoutfit" "HimationB" autocheck>> Himation</label><</message>>
$M_name smiled approvingly at your choice before looking behind you. You turned around too, expecting to see $V_name there but, to your surprise, it seemed that $V_heshe’d went back to $V_hisher room.
You frowned at the oddness of it as you expected $V_himher to at least greet your RA before retreating. You turned your attention back to $M_name but quickly noticed that there was a faraway look on $M_hisher face.
Feeling your gaze on $M_himher, $M_heshe quickly shook $M_hisher head and gave you a smile that was way too fake for you to believe.
“Here,” $M_heshe said, handing you a cream-colored chiton. “Give it to $V_name, would you?”
“Um yeah, sure, but—”
$M_name mumbled a distracted little apology before picking up the cardboard box and walking away from you. You’re left standing by the door with two packages of clothing and a head full of questions at the abruptness in which $M_heshe left.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.78">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.78]]*/<<if ($MC_bacchanaliaoutfit is "Exomis") or ($MC_bacchanaliaoutfit is "ChitonP") or ($MC_bacchanaliaoutfit is "HimationP")>><<set $MC_chest to "pectorals">><<else>><<set $MC_chest to "breasts">><</if>>You knocked on $V_name’s door twice. For a heartbeat too long, nothing happened. You didn’t hear any shuffle or sound.
But then, the door opened with the gentle creak of reluctance. $V_name stood there in the frame, backlit by the soft outline of the morning light through $V_hisher room’s windows. $V_HisHer fingers fidgeted at the hem of $V_hisher sleeve before $V_heshe saw what you were holding.
You offered $V_himher the package with a smile. “Your chiton delivery. It’s for the Bacchanalia-themed party today.”
$V_HeShe nodded and took it from your hands. “Thank you.”
You studied $V_hisher expression, searching for a hint of what $V_heshe wasn’t saying. “What’s up with you? You didn’t even say ‘hi’ to $M_name when $M_heshe came around. I thought you two were getting along.”
$V_name shook $V_hisher head, eyes darting to the floor. “It’s nothing. I just wasn’t feeling very well.”
*<<link "You didn’t believe $V_himher, but decided not to push." "Ch 4.79.1">><<set $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100); $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100); $Introvert to Math.clamp($Introvert + 3, 0, 100); $Extrovert to Math.clamp($Extrovert - 3, 0, 100); $Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic + 3, 0, 100); $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional - 3, 0, 100); $stat1 to "Aloof"; $stat2 to "Introvert"; $stat3 to "Pragmatic"; $V_talkch4 to "no">><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.79.1]]*/
*<<link "You frowned and asked $V_himher to talk to you." "Ch 4.79.2">><<set $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100); $Extrovert to Math.clamp($Extrovert + 3, 0, 100); $Introvert to Math.clamp($Introvert - 3, 0, 100); $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional + 3, 0, 100); $Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic - 3, 0, 100); $stat1 to "Friendly"; $stat2 to "Extrovert"; $stat3 to "Emotional"; $V_talkch4 to "yes">><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.79.2]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2
+ $stat3<</notify>>You didn’t believe $V_himher, not even for a second, but something in the stiff lines of $V_hisher shoulders told you that if you pushed now, $V_heshe’d fold inwards. Close the door. And not just the physical one.
So you nodded, forcing a small smile like patching a leak with duct tape. “Okay. No pressure. I just wanted to check in.”
$V_HeShe still wouldn’t meet your eyes.
You paused, lingering in the doorway. “Whatever it is, I hope it passes. Take care of yourself, $V_name. We’ll leave for the event together?”
A beat passed. Then another. And then, at last, $V_heshe nodded. The gesture was small but sincere.
“Yeah,” $V_heshe said quietly. “We can do that.”
You gave $V_himher one last smile before turning and unlocking your own door. Both your doors clicked shut at the same time.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.82">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.82]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2
+ $stat3<</notify>>You didn’t buy it, not even for a second. Certainly not with the way $V_hisher voice sounded like it had been filed down to nothing, or with the way $V_heshe was avoiding your eyes.
“$V_name.” You said $V_hisher name the way you might say please. $V_HeShe still didn’t look up.
You crossed your arms. “If something’s wrong, you can talk to me. You know that, right? We’re friends, aren’t we?”
$V_HeShe exhaled. “I know. I just don’t want you to think I’m being crazy or unreasonable.”
You shook your head. “I won’t. Just don’t shut me out.”
$V_name sighed, slow and shallow, like air dragged from a well too deep. Then $V_heshe stepped out of $V_hisher room and shut the door behind $V_himher.
$V_HeShe leaned back against the wood. $V_HisHer voice, when it finally came, was brittle.
“Yesterday, on my way to my second class, this guy came up to me.” $V_HeShe didn’t look at you when $V_heshe said it. “He started asking me all these questions about $M_name. If we were close. If we were friends. When I said yes, he grabbed me. Started shaking me and ranting.”
You straightened up. The hallway felt a little too narrow now, like the walls were creeping in to listen.
$V_name swallowed. “He said $M_name may as well be a murderer. That $M_heshe couldn’t be trusted. That $M_heshe wasn’t who $M_heshe pretended to be.”
You blinked in shock as you took it all in. “Jesus.”
“Yeah.”
<div id="centered">[[There was a long pause.|Ch 4.80]]</div>“He sounded out of his mind, honestly,” $V_name admitted. “But it was the way he said it. Like he’d seen something really bad happen and carried it with him ever since. I was freaked out. I didn’t know what to do, so I texted $M_name about it.”
“And?”
$V_name looked up at you then. “$M_HeShe didn’t deny knowing him. Didn't say the guy was lying, or making it up. Just told me it was better not to listen to anything he said. I tried pressing for more. Tried to ask if the guy was dangerous, or why he said what he did. $M_name just said to let it go. ‘Ignore it,’ like it was a regular occurrence. But…”
“But it stuck.”
$V_HeShe nodded, curling $V_hisher arms around $V_himself.
*[[Personally, you did not believe the whole murderer angle about your RA.|Ch 4.81.1][$Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Aloof", $stat2 to "Uptight"]]
*<<link "That guy was out of his mind. $M_name couldn’t even hurt a fly!" "Ch 4.81.2">><<set $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100); $Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist + 3, 0, 100); $Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist - 3, 0, 100); $stat1 to "Friendly"; $stat2 to "Optimist">><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.81.2]]*/
*<<link "You felt a little uneasy too but $M_name hadn't ever tried to do you any harm so far." "Ch 4.81.3">><<set $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100); $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100); $Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist + 3, 0, 100); $Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist - 3, 0, 100); $stat1 to "Laidback"; $stat2 to "Pessimist">><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.81.3]]*/ <<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>You crossed your arms, your mouth drawn tight. “I’m not saying I trust $M_name implicitly. But let’s look at the facts: has $M_heshe ever done anything to make either of us feel unsafe?”
$V_name was quiet for a second. Then shook $V_hisher head.
“Exactly. So until $M_heshe does, should we really be treating $M_himher like some kind of ticking time bomb just because a stranger on the sidewalk had a meltdown?”
“I <em>don’t</em> think $M_name is a murderer,” $V_name clarified. “That’s insane. But it’s the lack of an answer that scares me. The way $M_heshe didn’t try to explain, didn’t even pretend to be bothered. I don’t know.” $V_HeShe exhaled with $V_hisher eyes closed, fingers trembling a little. “It’s not that I believe that weird guy. It’s that the whole thing was crazy and $M_name did not provide much reassurance.”
You were both silent for a handful of seconds before you said, “I understand. Though I do think it’d be better if you ask $M_name about it face to face. Hiding isn’t going to get you any answers or comfort.”
$V_name opened $V_hisher eyes, deep brown eyes looking straight at you before $V_heshe nodded in agreement. “You’re right. Hopefully, I can ask $M_himher about it at the event tonight.”
“Considering that $M_heshe is an RA, $M_heshe’ll likely be busy trying to patrol around and keeping everyone in check,” you joked before smiling encouragingly. “But I hope it works out.”
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.82">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.82]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>You exhaled slowly and leaned against the wall beside $V_himher, your shoulder brushing $V_hisher just enough to remind $V_himher that $V_heshe wasn’t alone. “Honestly? The guy sounds like he has a vendetta. People like that… they latch on and don’t let go. I think $M_name probably just ran into the wrong kind of obsessive somewhere along the way.”
$V_name looked skeptical, so you offered a crooked grin. “I mean, come on. Have you seen the way $M_hisher painfully well-mannered, English self acts? It’s like $M_heshe’s in a perpetual state of trying to win ‘Most Helpful Human Being on Earth.’ I don’t buy this deranged ass narrative. $M_name’d probably sooner die of guilt before hurting someone.”
You nudged $V_hisher elbow lightly. “Don’t let someone else’s paranoia take up room in your head rent-free, okay?”
“I <em>don’t</em> think $M_name is a murderer,” $V_name clarified. “That’s insane. But it’s the lack of an answer that scares me. The way $M_heshe didn’t try to explain, didn’t even pretend to be bothered. I don’t know.” $V_HeShe exhaled with $V_hisher eyes closed, fingers trembling a little. “It’s not that I believe that weird guy. It’s that the whole thing was crazy and $M_name did not provide much reassurance.”
You were both silent for a handful of seconds before you said, “I understand. Though I do think it’d be better if you ask $M_name about it face to face. Hiding isn’t going to get you any answers or comfort.”
$V_name opened $V_hisher eyes, deep brown eyes looking straight at you before $V_heshe nodded in agreement. “You’re right. Hopefully, I can ask $M_himher about it at the event tonight.”
“Considering that $M_heshe is an RA, $M_heshe’ll likely be busy trying to patrol around and keeping everyone in check,” you joked before smiling encouragingly. “But I hope it works out.”
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.82">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.82]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>You ran a hand through your hair and gave a low whistle. “Man. I knew college was gonna be a wild ride, but I didn’t have ‘random guy accuses our RA of murder’ on my bingo card.”
$V_name didn’t laugh.
You sighed and rubbed your face. “Look, maybe it is just something $M_name doesn’t wanna talk about. Not exactly the kind of thing you drop into a conversation over tea and crumpets, you know?”
You shook your head. “I dunno. I’m not saying the guy was completely mental. It’s just that so far, $M_name hasn’t tried to poison our drinks or shove us down any stairwells. I say we file this under ‘Weird Shit at Yale’ and keep a mental note in case things start to get really suspicious.”
“I <em>don’t</em> think $M_name is a murderer,” $V_name clarified. “That’s insane. But it’s the lack of an answer that scares me. The way $M_heshe didn’t try to explain, didn’t even pretend to be bothered. I don’t know.” $V_HeShe exhaled with $V_hisher eyes closed, fingers trembling a little. “It’s not that I believe that weird guy. It’s that the whole thing was crazy and $M_name did not provide much reassurance.”
You were both silent for a handful of seconds before you said, “I understand. Though I do think it’d be better if you ask $M_name about it face to face. Hiding isn’t going to get you any answers or comfort.”
$V_name opened $V_hisher eyes, deep brown eyes looking straight at you before $V_heshe nodded in agreement. “You’re right. Hopefully, I can ask $M_himher about it at the event tonight.”
“Considering that $M_heshe is an RA, $M_heshe’ll likely be busy trying to patrol around and keeping everyone in check,” you joked before smiling encouragingly. “But I hope it works out.”
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.82">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.82]]*/<<notify>>Saved!<</notify>>The Bacchanalia was already a roar in motion by the time you and $V_name descended into the basement of Ishikawa Hall.
The event itself looked more like a hazy fever-dream, filtered through the lens of Tumblr aesthetics, textbook interpretations, and the collective, misguided confidence of Ivy League undergrads who’d read The Bacchae once and decided they would totally enjoy living during those times.
<<if $MC_bacchanaliaoutfit is "ChitonP" or $MC_bacchanaliaoutfit is "ChitonB">>The fabric of your chiton clung gently to your figure, the linen whispering against your skin with every step. The faux laurel crown tilted on your head like it had its own intentions for the evening. $V_name had lent it to you without hesitation, and you didn’t question $V_himher about why $V_heshe had one in the first place. $V_HeShe was a Classics major and fond of plays, and that combination could lead to far stranger accessories.<<elseif $MC_bacchanaliaoutfit is "HimationP" or $MC_bacchanaliaoutfit is "HimationB">>The fabric of your himation clung gently to your figure, the linen whispering against your skin with every step. The faux laurel crown tilted on your head like it had its own intentions for the evening. $V_name had lent it to you without hesitation, and you didn’t question $V_himher about why $V_heshe had one in the first place. $V_HeShe was a Classics major and fond of plays, and that combination could lead to far stranger accessories.<<elseif $MC_bacchanaliaoutfit is "Peplos">>The fabric of your peplos clung gently to your figure, the linen whispering against your skin with every step. The faux laurel crown tilted on your head like it had its own intentions for the evening. $V_name had lent it to you without hesitation, and you didn’t question $V_himher about why $V_heshe had one in the first place. $V_HeShe was a Classics major and fond of plays, and that combination could lead to far stranger accessories.<<else>>The fabric of your exomis clung gently to your figure, the linen whispering against your skin with every step. The faux laurel crown tilted on your head like it had its own intentions for the evening. $V_name had lent it to you without hesitation, and you didn’t question $V_himher about why $V_heshe had one in the first place. $V_HeShe was a Classics major and fond of plays, and that combination could lead to far stranger accessories.<</if>>
The place was swollen with music and bodies. There was a distinct smell of sweat, perfume, and that staleness exclusive to basements that were often left barren. And still, even with all the bodies packed tight together, you could see the details of the room: the concrete floor and arching ceiling of ductwork and exposed beams. Ishikawa Hall could easily hold 300 people in its belly, and it was working on proving that tonight.
A strobe light fractured the crowd into snapshots. Students dressed in white or cream linen, glittering gold cuffs, vine-shaped headpieces, though most of them just looked like they'd fallen into a toga tutorial on YouTube. The room pulsed with music that had more bass than melody, and you could barely make out what the mumbling artist was saying.
You’d have liked to say that Dionysus would turn everyone in the room into clusters of grapes if he heard them playing Playboi Carti during an event dedicated to him, but knowing what you’ve learned about the god, he’d probably enjoy these types of music.
At the steep incline that led to the courtyard, a few groups lingered which consisted of those too cool, too stoned, or too socially anxious to fully descend into the chaos. The slope shone under sporadic LED lights that flickered enough to give someone a seizure if they weren’t careful.
$V_name leaned in close, nearly shouting over the music. “There are way too many people. This is more of a frat party than an actual Bacchanalia.”
You chuckled as you walked in. “False advertisement at its finest.”
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.83">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.83]]*/You noticed then how the talking around you shifted. How, little by little, conversations stuttered and heads began to turn. The crowd reacted the way a forest does to lightning: with no real reason but just awe and instinct. People started to look. First casually, then openly, mouths slightly ajar like they’d seen a mythological being claw its way out of their imaginations.
You tried not to pay them too much attention.
Their eyes followed the soft skin of your neck, the dip of your collarbone, the tilt of your head crowned in that ridiculous, gleaming laurel. You looked like a painting that had decided it was too bored to stay in a frame. A demigod. Or maybe, at the risk of sounding blasphemous, a full-fledged god.
Some flushed as your gaze swept past them, one even stumbling slightly as if Aphrodite herself had whispered something scandalous in their ear. Others stared with the hunger of those who hadn’t eaten in weeks, though you imagined only a few of them had the words to describe what they saw. You wanted to laugh. Or tell them to shut their mouths before the next flying insect made a home out of it.
*<<link '“I feel like a unicorn in a petting zoo,” you muttered to $V_name, hating the attention you were getting.' "Ch 4.84.1">><<set $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100); $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100); $Introvert to Math.clamp($Introvert + 3, 0, 100); $Extrovert to Math.clamp($Extrovert - 3, 0, 100); $stat1 to "Humble"; $stat2 to "Introvert">><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.84.1]]*/
*[[“Ah, the burden of being hot,” you said with a dramatic sigh. “Hope they start functioning properly soon.”|Ch 4.84.2][$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100), $Extrovert to Math.clamp($Extrovert + 3, 0, 100), $Introvert to Math.clamp($Introvert - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Arrogant", $stat2 to "Extrovert"]]
*[[You simply ignored them all, choosing on focusing on your surroundings and the music.|Ch 4.84.3][$Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100), $Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic + 3, 0, 100), $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Aloof", $stat2 to "Pragmatic"]]<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>You shrunk back half an inch without actually moving. The spotlight was too warm. You weren’t built for this kind of attention, sticky and cloying to the point that it made your skin crawl like you'd accidentally touched something slimy and gross.
$V_name gave you a quick, sympathetic glance. “Well, you do kind of look like you stepped out of a Renaissance painting.”
You sighed. “Yeah. Probably one of the weirder ones where nobody’s sure if it’s supposed to be ironic or not.”
$V_HeShe chuckled quietly. “You’re being too harsh on yourself. You look $MC_handsome.”
You shook your head, not fully accepting the compliment but not saying anything to dispute it either.
Then all of a sudden, something seemed to shift in $V_name’s stance.
One second, $V_heshe was standing tall, $V_hisher expression unreadable but composed; the next, $V_hisher body sagged like something hollowed $V_himher out from the inside. You barely caught $V_himher before $V_heshe could crumple into the crowd.
"Whoa– hey, hey," you said, voice quick with concern as you looped an arm around $V_hisher waist and slowly guided $V_himher out of the steep exit and to the nearest bench. The music dimmed a little here, though the echo of bass still pulsed faintly through the stone.
$V_name was trembling slightly as $V_heshe sat, shoulders hunched like $V_heshe was trying to shut everything out. $V_HisHer breath came in short bursts, each one catching on the next like a car misfiring on a cold morning.
“What’s wrong?” you asked, crouching in front of $V_himher. “Do you feel faint? Dizzy?”
$V_HeShe shook $V_hisher head, still clutching the chiton wrapped awkwardly around $V_hisher chest, as if it might hold $V_himher together. “No, no, it’s not that. I just…” $V_hisher dark brows knit. “It was this feeling in my chest. Really weird. Like everything just compressed. Or expanded. I can’t really tell.”
Your hand hovered, unsure of where to land. $V_HisHer shoulder? $V_HisHer knee? The center of $V_hisher shaking hands?
“Was it a bad feeling?” you asked softly.
$V_HeShe stared past you, unseeing. “I don’t know. I don’t remember. It was just too much out of nowhere.”
You were about to ask another question, maybe something about anxiety, maybe something about triggers or breathwork, but then $V_hisher breathing changed again, quickened, stuttered. $V_HisHer chest rose and fell like $V_heshe was trying to outrun something invisible. And all the while, $V_heshe kept apologizing.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I ruined it, didn’t I? This whole thing, the event. You seemed to want to enjoy yourself before and now I just—”
*<<link "You patted $V_hisher knee and tried to reassure without being overwhelming." "Ch 4.85.1">><<set $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100); $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100); $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100); $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100); $stat1 to "Genuine"; $stat2 to "Laidback">><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.85.1]]*/
*[[You were slightly panicked about what to do so you just started to ramble too.|Ch 4.85.2][$Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100), $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100), $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Uptight", $stat2 to "Uptight"]]
*<<link "You immediately wrap your arms around $V_himher in order to try and calm $V_himher down. [♥]" "Ch 4.85.3">><<set $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional + 3, 0, 100); $Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic - 3, 0, 100); $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100); $stat1 to "Emotional"; $stat2 to "Friendly"; $V_romance to $V_romance+2>><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.85.3]]*/ <<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>$V_name gave you a look halfway between amusement and alarm. “I think that girl actually swooned.”
“Better than fainting,” you said, lips twitching. “Besides, I’m doing the public a service. Let them dream. Let them thrive.”
You adjusted your laurel crown with the self-importance of a victorious Olympian. “Honestly, it's a miracle they’re still upright. But maybe it’s for the best since I don’t want a safety hazard on my conscience.”
$V_name rolled $V_hisher eyes at your show of vanity, but you caught the smile tugging at $V_hisher mouth before $V_heshe could hide it.
Then all of a sudden, something seemed to shift in $V_name’s stance.
One second, $V_heshe was standing tall, $V_hisher expression unreadable but composed; the next, $V_hisher body sagged like something hollowed $V_himher out from the inside. You barely caught $V_himher before $V_heshe could crumple into the crowd.
"Whoa– hey, hey," you said, voice quick with concern as you looped an arm around $V_hisher waist and slowly guided $V_himher out of the steep exit and to the nearest bench. The music dimmed a little here, though the echo of bass still pulsed faintly through the stone.
$V_name was trembling slightly as $V_heshe sat, shoulders hunched like $V_heshe was trying to shut everything out. $V_HisHer breath came in short bursts, each one catching on the next like a car misfiring on a cold morning.
“What’s wrong?” you asked, crouching in front of $V_himher. “Do you feel faint? Dizzy?”
$V_HeShe shook $V_hisher head, still clutching the chiton wrapped awkwardly around $V_hisher chest, as if it might hold $V_himher together. “No, no, it’s not that. I just…” $V_hisher dark brows knit. “It was this feeling in my chest. Really weird. Like everything just compressed. Or expanded. I can’t really tell.”
Your hand hovered, unsure of where to land. $V_HisHer shoulder? $V_HisHer knee? The center of $V_hisher shaking hands?
“Was it a bad feeling?” you asked softly.
$V_HeShe stared past you, unseeing. “I don’t know. I don’t remember. It was just too much out of nowhere.”
You were about to ask another question, maybe something about anxiety, maybe something about triggers or breathwork, but then $V_hisher breathing changed again, quickened, stuttered. $V_HisHer chest rose and fell like $V_heshe was trying to outrun something invisible. And all the while, $V_heshe kept apologizing.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I ruined it, didn’t I? This whole thing, the event. You seemed to want to enjoy yourself before and now I just—”
*<<link "You patted $V_hisher knee and tried to reassure without being overwhelming." "Ch 4.85.1">><<set $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100); $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100); $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100); $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100); $stat1 to "Genuine"; $stat2 to "Laidback">><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.85.1]]*/
*[[You were slightly panicked about what to do so you just started to ramble too.|Ch 4.85.2][$Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100), $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100), $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Uptight", $stat2 to "Impulsive"]]
*<<link "You immediately wrap your arms around $V_himher in order to try and calm $V_himher down. [♥]" "Ch 4.85.3">><<set $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional + 3, 0, 100); $Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic - 3, 0, 100); $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100); $stat1 to "Emotional"; $stat2 to "Friendly"; $V_romance to $V_romance+2>><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.85.3]]*/ <<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>You didn’t look at them. You were aware of the eyes, the held breaths, the soft sounds of conversations slamming on their brakes mid-sentence. But you didn’t look.
Instead, you focused on the music and on the beat threading through the air like a pulse. You watched the way the lights skimmed over marble pillars and someone’s discarded cup rolling near your feet. You kept your face unreadable, hands loose at your sides, posture relaxed.
They could gawk if they wanted. It wasn’t your problem. It never had been. You were here for yourself, and maybe to meet some familiar faces. Everything else could stay behind an inaccessible glass.
Then all of a sudden, something seemed to shift in $V_name’s stance.
One second, $V_heshe was standing tall, $V_hisher expression unreadable but composed; the next, $V_hisher body sagged like something hollowed $V_himher out from the inside. You barely caught $V_himher before $V_heshe could crumple into the crowd.
"Whoa– hey, hey," you said, voice quick with concern as you looped an arm around $V_hisher waist and slowly guided $V_himher out of the steep exit and to the nearest bench. The music dimmed a little here, though the echo of bass still pulsed faintly through the stone.
$V_name was trembling slightly as $V_heshe sat, shoulders hunched like $V_heshe was trying to shut everything out. $V_HisHer breath came in short bursts, each one catching on the next like a car misfiring on a cold morning.
“What’s wrong?” you asked, crouching in front of $V_himher. “Do you feel faint? Dizzy?”
$V_HeShe shook $V_hisher head, still clutching the chiton wrapped awkwardly around $V_hisher chest, as if it might hold $V_himher together. “No, no, it’s not that. I just…” $V_hisher dark brows knit. “It was this feeling in my chest. Really weird. Like everything just compressed. Or expanded. I can’t really tell.”
Your hand hovered, unsure of where to land. $V_HisHer shoulder? $V_HisHer knee? The center of $V_hisher shaking hands?
“Was it a bad feeling?” you asked softly.
$V_HeShe stared past you, unseeing. “I don’t know. I don’t remember. It was just too much out of nowhere.”
You were about to ask another question, maybe something about anxiety, maybe something about triggers or breathwork, but then $V_hisher breathing changed again, quickened, stuttered. $V_HisHer chest rose and fell like $V_heshe was trying to outrun something invisible. And all the while, $V_heshe kept apologizing.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I ruined it, didn’t I? This whole thing, the event. You seemed to want to enjoy yourself before and now I just—”
*<<link "You patted $V_hisher knee and tried to reassure without being overwhelming." "Ch 4.85.1">><<set $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100); $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100); $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100); $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100); $stat1 to "Genuine"; $stat2 to "Laidback">><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.85.1]]*/
*[[You were slightly panicked about what to do so you just started to ramble too.|Ch 4.85.2][$Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100), $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100), $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Uptight", $stat2 to "Uptight"]]
*<<link "You immediately wrap your arms around $V_himher in order to try and calm $V_himher down. [♥]" "Ch 4.85.3">><<set $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional + 3, 0, 100); $Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic - 3, 0, 100); $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100); $stat1 to "Emotional"; $stat2 to "Friendly"; $V_romance to $V_romance+2>><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.85.3]]*/ <<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>You let out a quiet breath and gave $V_hisher’s knee a small pat, trying to steady the rising panic you could see written all over $V_hisher face.
“Nah,” you said casually, like you were answering a question about the weather. “You didn’t ruin anything. I’m just glad it isn’t anything too serious.”
$V_name let out a soft, shaky noise that might have been a laugh if it weren’t for the tremble in $V_hisher tone.
You smiled at $V_himher gently, leaning back against the bench. “Seriously. I didn’t exactly have a fixed itinerary about what to do. If your brain decided to flip the switch for a second, well, we ride with it.”
$V_HeShe nodded slowly, seemingly reassured by your words. $V_HisHer breathing hadn’t evened out yet, but the look in $V_hisher eyes became a little more calm. $V_HeShe eventually calmed down enough to unclench $V_hisher fists and manage a weak smile.
“You should probably go back,” $V_name said, voice a little hoarse. “To the party. You shouldn’t miss it because of me.”
You frowned. “Are you sure?”
$V_HeShe nodded with as much resolve as $V_heshe could muster. “Yeah. I’ll be okay. I’ll text you if anything happens. I just… I think I need to be alone for a bit.”
“All right,” you ultimately conceded with a sigh. You reached into the folds of your outfit—thank god for the pockets stitched into it—and flicked your phone to vibrate mode. “But make sure to <em>actually</em> text me, okay? Or call. I mean it.”
“I will,” $V_heshe promised, and the soothing smile $V_heshe gave you made you believe it.
You gave $V_himher one last lingering glance, then turned and started walking back toward the sloped entrance.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.90">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.90]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>You froze, blinking rapidly as you tried to figure out what the hell to do. Your arms half-lifted because you weren’t sure if you were supposed to hug or hover.
“No, no, no, it’s– um… it’s fine. I’m fine. We’re fine. You’re fine. This is fine.” You were aware you sounded like a broken record, but you powered through anyway. “Nothing’s ruined. Nothing is even slightly ruined.”
$V_name looked at you with wide eyes, chest still heaving like a kicked beehive, but the guilt in $V_hisher expression dulled, just a little.
“I mean,” you added, laughing nervously, “if one of us was going to have a breakdown during a party, it was statistically going to be me, not you. You really stole my moment to shine, you know?”
That earned you a weak snort. Mission <em>partially</em> accomplished?
$V_name eventually calmed down enough to unclench $V_hisher fists and manage a weak smile.
“You should probably go back,” $V_heshe said, voice a little hoarse. “To the party. You shouldn’t miss it because of me.”
You frowned. “Are you sure?”
$V_HeShe nodded with as much resolve as $V_heshe could muster. “Yeah. I’ll be okay. I’ll text you if anything happens. I just… I think I need to be alone for a bit.”
“All right,” you ultimately conceded with a sigh. You reached into the folds of your outfit—thank god for the pockets stitched into it—and flicked your phone to vibrate mode. “But make sure to actually text me, okay? Or call. I mean it.”
“I will,” $V_heshe promised, and the soothing smile $V_heshe gave you made you believe it.
You gave $V_himher one last lingering glance, then turned and started walking back toward the sloped entrance.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.90">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.90]]*/<<audio "VB1" loop play>><<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>You didn’t hesitate. Your arms were around $V_name before you could think about what you were doing, as instinctive as gently cradling a piece of fragile glasswork. You pulled $V_himher in close, the edges of the laurel crown tilting with the movement, and pressed your cheek to $V_hisher temple.
“Hey,” you whispered, firm and soft at once. “Hey, it’s okay. You didn’t ruin anything, I swear. That wasn’t even the last thing on my mind.”
$V_name trembled slightly in your hold, $V_hisher breaths stuttering like the wingbeats of a wounded bird. You smoothed a hand down $V_hisher back, feeling the taut tremor of $V_hisher spine.
“Breathe with me,” you told $V_himher. “Just focus on the two of us. Just us. You’re here. I’m here. That’s all that matters.”
You weren’t sure if $V_heshe heard you. But $V_heshe didn’t pull away, instead you felt $V_hisher arms lifting to hold you back.
You stayed like that, the two of you in a small, suspended stillness. The world around you continued in golden sound; laughter and music echoing faintly like it belonged to another realm entirely.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.86">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.86]]*/Eventually, you leaned back just enough to see $V_name’s face. “Feeling better?”
$V_HeShe nodded. You slowly let $V_himher go, though your fingers still lingered a moment on $V_hisher shoulder.
“Does this happen often?” you asked. “At parties, I mean.”
$V_name looked down, clearly embarrassed. $V_HisHer thumbs fiddled with the fabric at $V_hisher waist. “Actually, this is the first party I’ve ever been to.”.
You looked at $V_himher with a healthy amount of surprise on your face. “Seriously?”
$V_HeShe nodded again. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve gone to family-related events. And sometimes after a school play or a little recital, there’d be a gathering. But a full-blown party like this?” $V_HeShe gave a half-laugh, like the concept was ridiculous even to $V_hisher own ears. “No. Never. I wasn’t exactly the social butterfly at school. I got invited a few times, but I never went. I don’t like crowds.”
You studied $V_himher for a moment. Under the moonlight, $V_heshe looked not shy so much as… exposed. It was as if $V_heshe had handed you a part of $V_himself $V_heshe rarely took out in the open.
*[[“I guess we have that in common. I’m not much for crowded events either.”|Ch 4.87.1][$Introvert to Math.clamp($Introvert + 3, 0, 100), $Extrovert to Math.clamp($Extrovert - 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Introvert", $stat2 to "Genuine"]]
*[[“I don’t mind crowded spaces. I feel like it just depends on the people.”|Ch 4.87.2][$Extrovert to Math.clamp($Extrovert + 3, 0, 100), $Introvert to Math.clamp($Introvert - 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Extrovert", $stat2 to "Sarcastic"]]<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>It wasn’t a lie. Parties made you feel like a radio tuned to too many stations at once, all the noise and color and motion crashing together like a sewer during a storm.
$V_name looked at you, a little surprised. “Really?”
You nodded. “I like people. I just like them better when they’re not all screaming in the same room.”
$V_HeShe gave a soft huff of a laugh at that, something lighter sparking behind $V_hisher eyes. It was nice to see.
After a while, you said, “Well, at least that was one hell of a debut for you.”
<div id="centered"><<link "$V_HeShe simply nodded solemnly, before $V_heshe slipped $V_hisher fingers between yours." "Ch 4.88">><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.88]]*/</div><<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>$V_name blinked, then laughed in a way that sounded like $V_heshe wasn’t used to doing it around others. “Am I included in your example of those kinds of people?”
You tilted your head in mock-consideration. “Hmm. We’re still in the interview phase, but you're doing alright so far.”
$V_HeShe laughed again, softly hitting your stomach. “You’re terrible, you know that?”
You fake gasped in offense. “Excuse me, $V_Mr. Næsholm. That laugh tells me otherwise.”
After a while, you said, “Well, at least that was one hell of a debut for you.”
<div id="centered"><<link "$V_HeShe simply nodded solemnly, before $V_heshe slipped $V_hisher fingers between yours." "Ch 4.88">><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.88]]*/</div>$V_name’s hand was warm, $V_hisher skin feather-light against your palm. You looked down, startled in the way people are when they find something precious in an unexpected setting.
$V_HeShe smiled when you looked back up at $V_himher with an openness and earnestness that made $V_hisher doe-brown eyes shine. It made $V_himher look so heartbreakingly soft, you almost forgot how to breathe.
Then $V_heshe leaned forward just a little, but the action was enough to make your heart skip a beat and then stutter in its rhythm like a scratched vinyl. For one ridiculous, fragile moment, you thought—maybe hoped—$V_heshe was going to kiss you.
But instead, $V_hisher forehead rested lightly against yours.
The contact was intimate in its own quiet way, as if $V_name knew exactly what you could handle and didn’t want to scare you away. From this angle, you noticed the greenish rings around $V_hisher irises were more noticeable; subtle, mossy halos that made $V_hisher eyes look like they belonged to a forest spirit rather than a person. $V_HisHer lashes, unfairly long, brushed $V_hisher cheeks whenever $V_heshe blinked.
You found yourself gripping a fold of $V_hisher chiton, fingers curling into the linen. Because $V_heshe smelled like wind through pine needles and sunshine on wet stone, and everything about $V_himher tugged at a gentle feeling in your chest.
$V_HeShe was summer in human shape, you realized. $V_HeShe was golden days filled with quiet woods and dandelion crowns, soft hands, sun-warmed laughter.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.89">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.89]]*/“Thank you for taking care of me,” $V_name whispered, pulling you out of your musings.
“Of course,” you said back, the words steady even as your insides rattled like a loose door.
$V_HeShe pulled back just enough to send you a smile before saying, “You should probably go inside. Enjoy the party.”
You furrowed your brows. “What about you?”
“I’ll be okay,” $V_heshe said, and $V_heshe sounded like $V_heshe meant it. “I just want to sit with myself for a bit. But I’ll join you later, promise.”
$V_HeShe noticed the unconvinced slant of your mouth and gave your hand a light squeeze.
“Promise,” $V_heshe repeated, and something in you settled just enough to believe $V_himher.
With a sigh, you fished your phone out of the pocket stitched cleverly into the side of your outfit and flicked it to vibrate. “Seriously. Text me if anything happens. Or if you start spiraling again. Or if you just get bored.”
“I will,” $V_name said, tilting $V_hisher head in that way $V_heshe did that made $V_himher look like some sort of creature in a fairytale.
You squeezed $V_hisher hand one more time before letting go. The steep slope to the party seemed longer than it’d felt when you had to walk upwards.
You didn’t look back until you were almost at the bottom. $V_name was still there. Smiling faintly, watching you as you went inside.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.90">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.90]]*/<<if hasVisited("Ch 4.89")>><<audio "VB1" fadeoverto 15 0>><</if>>The party had changed while you were gone.
Or maybe it hadn’t changed at all, and you were just seeing it through a more surreal lens. The best way to describe it was like looking at a painting that had shifted in the night and now all the figures were in different positions. The fake torches casted everyone in golden chiaroscuro. Somewhere nearby, someone was shouting about if anyone had seen her boyfriend. Someone else was beatboxing.
One guy, too stoned on the weed in his hand, was yanking his himation aside to reveal neon green boxers with the words “LICK ME” emblazoned on the waistband. His friends cackled while you stared for a second too long out of secondhand embarrassment.
The lights were inconsistent with the strobe flashes, lanterns, and the occasional wash of lavender and gold light from overhead rigs someone must have borrowed from the theater department. You were considering walking back to where you’d left $V_name, when one of the students on serving duty appeared beside you under the erratic lighting.
You couldn’t see her features clearly, but you could make out that she had dark hair, fair skin, monolid black eyes that caught the occasional gleam like smooth shungite. Her peplos were bordered with gold trimmings, flowing and too perfect to be from the costume box. And in her hands: a tray of identical drinks and small pastries in the shape of grape clusters, which she offered you and a few others who were around you.
You took one of both items with cautious politeness. Sniffed the drink. No trace of alcohol. At least none your nose could detect. Then you took a sip.
<em>Oh.</em>
It hit your tongue with the familiar taste of $MC_favoritedrink, but you could tell it was not the normal version, certainly not with the lack of the cloyingly commercial taste you were used to. This was… enhanced? Like someone had made it out of light and sound and memory. Notes you didn’t know existed. Spices and citrus and something that took you straight back to that one summer you spent with your mother in Greece.
The pastry was almost on par with the drink. The grape flavor didn’t taste artificial like a Jolly-Rancher. You could even taste the arils from the pomegranates your mom used to pick out for you as she discarded the bitter pith, alongside a buttery vanilla note that melted in your mouth.
You were still chewing when your body had already made up its mind to get more.
You downed the drink as you made your way to the long tables at the side, stacked high with amphorae-style pitchers and snacks that looked too pretty to eat. You were on your third glass, trying to find another of those grape-shaped pastries when a random guy sidled up beside you.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.91">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.91]]*/“Hey,” said the voice.
You didn’t look up, preferring to ignore him like he was a particularly annoying fly.
“Hey, $MC_handsome,” he said again, louder, dripping with overconfidence. He stared at you like you were the only glass of water in a desert and he was a dehydrated frat bro.
You glanced sideways. Reddish-brown hair, tall, tan, and wearing an exomis that looked like it was trying and failing to stay on his shoulders. The same smug smile he had, along with that glassy-eyed expression of someone who thought being in the same room as you was a gift you hadn’t yet realized you wanted, made you want to hurl whatever you’d just consumed.
<<if ($MC_attraction is "allo_women") or ($MC_attraction is "demi_women") or ($MC_attraction is "ace_women")>>You weren’t even into dudes, for fuck’s sake. And even if you were, did he really think you’d be impressed by a stranger who looked like he was only looking to add one more list to his body count?<<else>>You huffed irritatedly and turned away. Your drink was more interesting. Your pastry was more interesting. The condensation on your glass was more interesting.<</if>>
But he didn’t take the hint.
“C’mon,” he said, stepping closer. “I know what they’re serving here’s fun and all, but I’ve got something stronger in my dorm. Something better.” He grabbed your wrist. It wasn’t painful, but the insistence was rubbing you the wrong way.
“You and me,” he added, voice slimy. “We could have fun.”
*[[“Get your fucking hands off me before I make you forget the shape of your nose.”|Ch 4.92.1][$Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100), $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100), $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100), $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Impulsive", $stat2 to "Bold"]]
*[[“Can you stop touching me, dude? Being a creep must be doing wonders for you tonight.”|Ch 4.92.2][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Sarcastic", $stat2 to "Arrogant"]]
*[[“I’m sorry if I made you think otherwise, but I’m really not interested. Please, let go of me.”|Ch 4.92.3][$Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100), $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100), $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Genuine", $stat2 to "Shy"]]
*[[You glared at him and tried to get out of his grasp.|Ch 4.92.4][$Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100), $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious + 3, 0, 100), $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Aloof", $stat2 to "Cautious"]]<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>The guy blinked, still holding on like he thought you were bluffing. Bad idea.
You were too angry to think it through. Your fist moved before your brain caught up as your knuckles met cartilage with a dull, wet crunch.
The creep stumbled back, clutching his nose, eyes wide and suddenly clear of whatever delusions he’d been living in. Blood dripped between his fingers.
You stood there, heart pounding with an unapologetic sneer.
No one really noticed. Maybe they were too drunk. Maybe the music had made most of the other sounds secondary in their perception. But now, he looked at you with something closer to irritated surprise than lust.
You lifted your fist—thankfully not bruised and with not a speck of his filthy blood staining it—as if daring him to try again.
<div id="centered"><<link '“What exactly is going on here?” $M_name’s voice called out.' "Ch 4.93.1">><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.93.1]]*/</div><<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>You didn’t even bother looking at him when you said it, simply flicking your wrist out of his grip like he’d left something sticky on your skin.
He blinked, taken aback, as if no one had told him that yes, his behavior was in fact visible. And downright embarrassing.
“Are you always this charming?” you added, sipping your drink, gaze still fixed somewhere above his head like he wasn’t worth full eye contact.
“You don’t have to bitch about it,” he muttered.
“Good news,” you said brightly, “I don’t have to. I choose to. Now shoo,”—you made a go away motion—“I don’t want you polluting the air around me.”
<div id="centered"><<link '“What exactly is going on here?” $M_name’s voice called out.' "Ch 4.93.2">><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.93.2]]*/</div><<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>Your voice came out kinder than you really wanted, mostly so that he wouldn’t have a violent reaction to your rejection. With guys like him, it was better to be safe than sorry.
“Oh come on,” he said, persistent as ever, grip tightening ever so slightly. “Just come to my suite with me, I’ll make you change your mind.”
You avoided his eyes then. “I don’t want to. Please let go.”
He kept trying to persuade you, clearly enjoying the way you were uncomfortable with his advances. It seemed like he was horrible at taking a ‘no’.
<div id="centered"><<link '“What exactly is going on here?” $M_name’s voice called out.' "Ch 4.93.2">><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.93.2]]*/</div><<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>You didn’t speak. Didn’t give him the satisfaction.
Instead, your hand twisted to break free from him. He looked startled, maybe even offended, like a child denied a toy.
You met his eyes with a sharp look. You wanted him to feel the weight of it.
“The hell is your problem?” he exclaimed, and you were honestly surprised by his audacity.
“What’s my problem?” you asked, anger creeping into your voice. “You’re the creep who grabbed me out of nowhere!”
<div id="centered"><<link '“What exactly is going on here?” $M_name’s voice called out.' "Ch 4.93.2">><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.93.2]]*/</div>The creep twisted around, nose still bleeding and pride wounded worse. His laugh was loud and ugly.
“$HeShe <<are>> batshit crazy,” he spat, pressing the heel of his hand against his nostrils like that’d undo the fact that you’d rearranged them. “Came at me like a rabid animal—”
You crossed your arms, jaw tight. “He grabbed me without consent. I gave him a warning. He didn’t listen. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.”
$M_name turned toward you slowly. You didn’t flinch, and $M_heshe didn’t look surprised.
“Self-defense, then,” $M_heshe said, gaze cutting back to the guy like a guillotine. “Which, given your history, isn’t even the most lenient option I could consider.”
The creep sneered. “Oh, get off your high horse, what are you gonna do? Write me up? In case you forgot, it’s my father who is on the board of—”
“I wasn’t finished,” $M_name interrupted mildly, lifting a hand to silence him. “You weren’t even supposed to be here, remember? After the freshman incident at SigChi, you were banned from student gatherings.”
He tried to sneer again, but it came out flatter this time. His eyes darted to the crowd that was pointedly ignoring all the commotion like they were in a completely different world. “And who the hell’s gonna make me leave? You?”
$M_name raised a single eyebrow. “Shawn.”
There was movement behind your RA and someone emerged from the shadows like he’d simply been waiting to be needed. He had a buzzcut, olive skin that caught the colored lights like metal, and light brown eyes that didn’t blink. Seven feet tall, maybe more, and so absurdly built it looked like someone had sculpted him out of a military-grade concrete slab.
The creep froze like a deer that had just realized the headlights weren’t slowing down.
“I’ll show you out, Prescott,” said Shawn, the bass in his voice low and intimidating.
The guy—named Prescott, apparently—opened his mouth again, but no sound came. His confidence had leaked out of him along with his nosebleed. And then Shawn was moving in the space of three heartbeats, the creep being frog-marched across the floor like a wayward toddler who’d bitten someone in daycare. He didn’t even get the chance to fight back.
$M_name exhaled before looking back to you. $M_HeShe tilted $M_hisher head. “Are you all right?”
*[[“As alright as I can be after getting harassed,” you answered with an eye roll.|Ch 4.94.1][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Sarcastic", $stat2 to "Laidback"]]
*[[“I think so, I just hope the weirdo doesn’t make anyone else uncomfortable.”|Ch 4.94.2][$Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100), $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional + 3, 0, 100), $Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Friendly", $stat2 to "Emotional"]]
*[[“I’d feel even better if Shawn would beat him up after dragging him outside.”|Ch 4.94.3][$Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100), $Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic + 3, 0, 100), $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Uptight", $stat2 to "Pragmatic"]]
*[[“I don’t know. I’m feeling quite detached right now, if I’m being honest.”|Ch 4.94.4][$Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Aloof", $stat2 to "Genuine"]]The creep looked back, still holding onto the last syllables of his ego, and rolled his eyes. “None of your business.”
<<if $M_romance gte 3>>$M_name smiled thinly, unperturbed by the dismissal. “$MC_firstname is my business. So I suggest you be smart for once in your life and stand back.”<<else>>$M_name smiled thinly, unperturbed by the dismissal. “The residents on my floor are under my supervision, and since $MC_Mr. $MC_surname here is one of them, I’d say this is very much my business.”<</if>>
Your RA’s eyes slid to you and softened slightly in consolation, just for a moment, before $M_heshe turned back to the guy, gaze flinting hard again.
“Furthermore,” $M_name went on, tilting $M_hisher head, “you were already banned from student events after the... incident with the freshmen at the SigChi party, weren’t you?”
The guy’s jaw flexed. “So what if I was? Who’s gonna kick me out? You?”
Max raised an eyebrow, already dialing into the kind of elegant pettiness only $M_heshe could pull off.
From behind your RA stepped a guy who’d been standing there the whole time, but was somehow invisible despite the fact that he looked like he’d been carved from a military-grade concrete slab. Buzzcut. Olive skin. Eyes like warm clay that didn’t blink much. Easily seven feet tall, if not more, and built like a reinforced cement wall.
“Shawn,” $M_name said again, almost listlessly, “please escort Mr. Prescott outside.”
The guy—Prescott, apparently—visibly faltered at the way Shawn looked at him with an expression that was somehow both blank and deliberately terrifying.
“I’ll show you out,” Shawn said with a bored tone that also made it clear that running wouldn’t help.
Prescott opened his mouth to protest, but no sound came out except for a pathetic little inhale. Then, Shawn was moving in the space of three heartbeats, the creep being frog-marched across the floor like a wayward toddler who’d bitten someone in daycare. He didn’t even get the chance to fight back.
$M_name exhaled before looking back to you. $M_HeShe tilted $M_hisher head. “Are you all right?”
*[[“As alright as I can be after getting harassed,” you answered with an eye roll.|Ch 4.94.1][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Sarcastic", $stat2 to "Laidback"]]
*[[“I think so, I just hope the weirdo doesn’t make anyone else uncomfortable.”|Ch 4.94.2][$Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100), $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional + 3, 0, 100), $Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Friendly", $stat2 to "Emotional"]]
*[[“I’d feel even better if Shawn would beat him up after dragging him outside.”|Ch 4.94.3][$Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100), $Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic + 3, 0, 100), $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Uptight", $stat2 to "Pragmatic"]]
*[[“I don’t know. I’m feeling quite detached right now, if I’m being honest.”|Ch 4.94.4][$Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Aloof", $stat2 to "Genuine"]]<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>“I mean, five stars for Shawn, honestly. But I think, next time, I’ll wear a sign that says ‘Please don’t fucking touch me.’” You shrugged, trying to sound cavalier, like your heart wasn’t still kicking up against your ribs. Like you hadn’t clenched your fists so tight your nails had almost marked crescent moons in your palms.
$M_name smiled almost ruefully at that, although you could still detect concern radiating off of $M_himher.
You and $M_name had tucked yourselves into a quieter corner of the basement. For a while, neither of you said anything.
You were still trying not to think about what happened and $M_heshe just leaned beside you against the wall, arms crossed, head tipped back like $M_heshe was studying the cracks in the ceiling.
Then, $M_heshe said, “Troy Prescott’s a bloody twat. The only people who seem to tolerate him are his family. And even that seems like it comes with conditions.” $M_heshe derided. “And his shitty friends, of course. Though he’s the shittiest of them all.”
You glanced over. “You say that like you’ve done a case study or something.”
“I didn’t need to. The guy tried to hit on me once.”
Your brows lifted. “Wait, seriously?”
“Mhmm.” $M_heshe sounded bored now, but not enough to hide the traces of amusement in $M_hisher voice. “Didn’t take the hint, either. So I kneed him in the balls.”
You tried very hard not to laugh, you really did. But the image of the elegant and impeccably-mannered $M_name Whitlock-Singh delivering a swift, unapologetic knee to the groin of Troy Prescott was too much.
“Wow,” you said through a barely suppressed smile. “Didn’t think that was in your arsenal.”
$M_HeShe gave a modest shrug, a hint of mirth in $M_hisher expression. “I don’t <em>prefer</em> immediate violence. But I’m also not above it.”
“Fair enough.” You sighed, rubbing your wrist where Prescott had grabbed you, the ghost of his fingers lingering like dirt under your skin. “Honestly? People like him deserve it. But what I don’t get is why the university hasn’t done anything about it.”
“Because,” $M_heshe answered, “his father’s on the Board of Trustees. And he’s got ties with the current governor. The wanker walks around like he owns the place because, in a way, he sort of does.”
You rolled your eyes so hard you felt them click into place. Of fucking course that was the reason.
$M_name looked at you then, $M_hisher expression softening. “But it won’t last forever. Guys like Prescott think they’re untouchable, but karma has long arms. Eventually, she catches up.”
*[[“Well then, I just hope she gets to it as soon as possible.”|Ch 4.95.1][$Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious + 3, 0, 100), $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive - 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Cautious", $stat2 to "Laidback"]]
*[[“Fuck, I really wasn’t expecting the night to go like this.” [♥]|Ch 4.95.2][$Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist + 3, 0, 100), $Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist - 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Optimist", $stat2 to "Humble", $M_romance to $M_romance+2]]<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>You glanced over your shoulder, to where the crowd had swallowed the space Prescott had once taken up like the body ejects a splinter.
“People came here to have fun on their own terms, not cornered,” you added, and your hands flexed a little at your sides as if still remembering what it felt like to be grabbed. “Nobody deserves to feel like that.”
$M_name nodded in agreement to that, although you could still detect concern radiating off of $M_himher.
You and $M_name had tucked yourselves into a quieter corner of the basement. For a while, neither of you said anything.
You were still trying not to think about what happened and $M_heshe just leaned beside you against the wall, arms crossed, head tipped back like $M_heshe was studying the cracks in the ceiling.
Then, $M_heshe said, “Troy Prescott’s a bloody twat. The only people who seem to tolerate him are his family. And even that seems like it comes with conditions.” $M_heshe derided. “And his shitty friends, of course. Though he’s the shittiest of them all.”
You glanced over. “You say that like you’ve done a case study or something.”
“I didn’t need to. The guy tried to hit on me once.”
Your brows lifted. “Wait, seriously?”
“Mhmm.” $M_heshe sounded bored now, but not enough to hide the traces of amusement in $M_hisher voice. “Didn’t take the hint, either. So I kneed him in the balls.”
You tried very hard not to laugh, you really did. But the image of the elegant and impeccably-mannered $M_name Whitlock-Singh delivering a swift, unapologetic knee to the groin of Troy Prescott was too much.
“Wow,” you said through a barely suppressed smile. “Didn’t think that was in your arsenal.”
$M_HeShe gave a modest shrug, a hint of mirth in $M_hisher expression. “I don’t <em>prefer</em> immediate violence. But I’m also not above it.”
“Fair enough.” You sighed, rubbing your wrist where Prescott had grabbed you, the ghost of his fingers lingering like dirt under your skin. “Honestly? People like him deserve it. But what I don’t get is why the university hasn’t done anything about it.”
“Because,” $M_heshe answered, “his father’s on the Board of Trustees. And he’s got ties with the current governor. The wanker walks around like he owns the place because, in a way, he sort of does.”
You rolled your eyes so hard you felt them click into place. Of fucking course that was the reason.
$M_name looked at you then, $M_heshe expression softening. “But it won’t last forever. Guys like Prescott think they’re untouchable, but karma has long arms. Eventually, she catches up.”
*[[“Well then, I just hope she gets to it as soon as possible.”|Ch 4.95.1][$Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious + 3, 0, 100), $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive - 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Cautious", $stat2 to "Laidback"]]
*[[“Fuck, I really wasn’t expecting the night to go like this.” [♥]|Ch 4.95.2][$Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist + 3, 0, 100), $Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist - 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Optimist", $stat2 to "Humble", $M_romance to $M_romance+2]]<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>You weren’t joking. The image of Prescott being flattened into an apologetic pancake was deeply satisfying.
“Not even a black eye. Justice is so underwhelming these days.” You crossed your arms, your tone half-serious and half-there-just-to-keep-your-heart-from-breaking-through-your-ribs. <<if hasVisited("Ch 4.92.1")>>Maybe you should’ve just continued punching him.<</if>>
$M_name nodded in agreement to that, although you could still detect concern radiating off of $M_himher.
You and $M_name had tucked yourselves into a quieter corner of the basement. For a while, neither of you said anything.
You were still trying not to think about what happened and $M_heshe just leaned beside you against the wall, arms crossed, head tipped back like $M_heshe was studying the cracks in the ceiling.
Then, $M_heshe said, “Troy Prescott’s a bloody twat. The only people who seem to tolerate him are his family. And even that seems like it comes with conditions.” $M_heshe derided. “And his shitty friends, of course. Though he’s the shittiest of them all.”
You glanced over. “You say that like you’ve done a case study or something.”
“I didn’t need to. The guy tried to hit on me once.”
Your brows lifted. “Wait, seriously?”
“Mhmm.” $M_heshe sounded bored now, but not enough to hide the traces of amusement in $M_hisher voice. “Didn’t take the hint, either. So I kneed him in the balls.”
You tried very hard not to laugh, you really did. But the image of the elegant and impeccably-mannered $M_name Whitlock-Singh delivering a swift, unapologetic knee to the groin of Troy Prescott was too much.
“Wow,” you said through a barely suppressed smile. “Didn’t think that was in your arsenal.”
$M_HeShe gave a modest shrug, a hint of mirth in $M_hisher expression. “I don’t <em>prefer</em> immediate violence. But I’m also not above it.”
“Fair enough.” You sighed, rubbing your wrist where Prescott had grabbed you, the ghost of his fingers lingering like dirt under your skin. “Honestly? People like him deserve it. But what I don’t get is why the university hasn’t done anything about it.”
“Because,” $M_heshe answered, “his father’s on the Board of Trustees. And he’s got ties with the current governor. The wanker walks around like he owns the place because, in a way, he sort of does.”
You rolled your eyes so hard you felt them click into place. Of fucking course that was the reason.
$M_name looked at you then, $M_hisher expression softening. “But it won’t last forever. Guys like Prescott think they’re untouchable, but karma has long arms. Eventually, she catches up.”
*[[“Well then, I just hope she gets to it as soon as possible.”|Ch 4.95.1][$Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious + 3, 0, 100), $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive - 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Cautious", $stat2 to "Laidback"]]
*[[“Fuck, I really wasn’t expecting the night to go like this.” [♥]|Ch 4.95.2][$Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist + 3, 0, 100), $Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist - 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Optimist", $stat2 to "Humble", $M_romance to $M_romance+2]]<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>You didn’t look at $M_name when you said it.
You looked at your hands, still tingling faintly from the adrenaline. You felt like a snow globe after the shake—glitter still spinning in the water, trying to settle. “It’s not that I’m not okay. Just... somewhere a little to the left of okay. If that makes sense.”
$M_name nodded in understanding at that, although you could still detect concern radiating off of $M_himher.
You and $M_name had tucked yourselves into a quieter corner of the basement. For a while, neither of you said anything.
You were still trying not to think about what happened and $M_heshe just leaned beside you against the wall, arms crossed, head tipped back like $M_heshe was studying the cracks in the ceiling.
Then, $M_heshe said, “Troy Prescott’s a bloody twat. The only people who seem to tolerate him are his family. And even that seems like it comes with conditions.” $M_heshe derided. “And his shitty friends, of course. Though he’s the shittiest of them all.”
You glanced over. “You say that like you’ve done a case study or something.”
“I didn’t need to. The guy tried to hit on me once.”
Your brows lifted. “Wait, seriously?”
“Mhmm.” $M_heshe sounded bored now, but not enough to hide the traces of amusement in $M_hisher voice. “Didn’t take the hint, either. So I kneed him in the balls.”
You tried very hard not to laugh, you really did. But the image of the elegant and impeccably-mannered $M_name Whitlock-Singh delivering a swift, unapologetic knee to the groin of Troy Prescott was too much.
“Wow,” you said through a barely suppressed smile. “Didn’t think that was in your arsenal.”
$M_HeShe gave a modest shrug, a hint of mirth in $M_hisher expression. “I don’t <em>prefer</em> immediate violence. But I’m also not above it.”
“Fair enough.” You sighed, rubbing your wrist where Prescott had grabbed you, the ghost of his fingers lingering like dirt under your skin. “Honestly? People like him deserve it. But what I don’t get is why the university hasn’t done anything about it.”
“Because,” $M_heshe answered, “his father’s on the Board of Trustees. And he’s got ties with the current governor. The wanker walks around like he owns the place because, in a way, he sort of does.”
You rolled your eyes so hard you felt them click into place. Of fucking course that was the reason.
$M_name looked at you then, $M_heshe expression softening. “But it won’t last forever. Guys like Prescott think they’re untouchable, but karma has long arms. Eventually, she catches up.”
*[[“Well then, I just hope she gets to it as soon as possible.”|Ch 4.95.1][$Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious + 3, 0, 100), $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive - 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Cautious", $stat2 to "Laidback"]]
*[[“Fuck, I really wasn’t expecting the night to go like this.” [♥]|Ch 4.95.2][$Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist + 3, 0, 100), $Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist - 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Optimist", $stat2 to "Humble", $M_romance to $M_romance+2]]<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>$M_name didn’t reply right away. In fact, $M_hisher expression barely moved.
“Me too,” $M_heshe said after a few seconds, tone sincere and weighted.
And then, as if on cue, someone waved $M_himher down from across the crowd. A voice calling $M_hisher name expectantly. Another student, you reckoned, probably another RA, judging from the badge and the clipboard tucked into their elbow.
$M_name glanced in their direction, then looked back at you. The gold leaves in $M_hisher laurel crown caught a shimmer of light from one of the overhead lanterns, glinting faintly against the black waves of $M_hisher hair.
$M_HeShe offered you one last smile. It was small and sincere and a little sad, like it knew the night had already turned into something neither of you planned for.
“Enjoy the event,” $M_heshe said, and the words hung there between you, strange and formal in their softness.
Then $M_heshe turned, walking toward the person who had called for $M_himher, $M_hisher figure folding into the sea of warm bodies and echoing music. You watched $M_himher go, standing still in the corner as the din of the party swallowed $M_himher whole.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.96">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.96]]*/<<audio "MB1" loop play>><<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>$M_name nodded, and something softened in the lines of $M_hisher face. The sharp angles of royalty were still there—high cheekbones and posture that had probably been drilled into $M_himher by self-discipline—but the look in $M_hisher eyes was warm now, touched with an emotion close to fondness.
$M_HeShe hesitated. You could feel the weight of that pause like a held breath.
“Can I—” $M_heshe started, then stopped. A beat. Then, gently, “May I hold your hand?”
You blinked, caught off guard by how much the question made your heart trip over itself. But you nodded before your thoughts could catch up to your instincts.
$M_HisHer hand slipped into yours like it had always been meant to fit there. Warm and soft, with none of the callouses you’d half-expected, just skin and warmth while your lungs took in a deep inhale.
You studied $M_himher as the quiet settled between you. Temple hush. Gold-dusted air.
There was a regality about $M_name that no party attire could downplay. Maybe it was the laurel crown catching the lights like a crown forged from the sun itself. Maybe it was the way $M_hisher jet-black hair never dared fall out of place, or how $M_hisher umber brown eyes, flecked with traces of gold, always seemed to know something you didn’t, or how you could tell $M_hisher aquiline nose was unmistakably passed down by $M_hisher Anglo-Indian ancestry.
Your gaze dipped, traitorous and bold, to $M_hisher lips. They were full, pink, and pressed in a line of contemplative quiet against the rich tone of $M_hisher tawny skin. You wondered, with a dangerous, searing immediacy, what it would feel like to press yours against it. The thought itself was the type of sin that ancient priests would burn out of your tongue with iron.
Your body betrayed you, flushing heat into your chest like a too-full cup. You were certain $M_heshe could feel it. That if you dared speak, it would come out as invisible smoke.
From a distance, even the partially drunk students would mistake you for Grecian royalty; your gold crowns gleaming fairly, the elegant drape of your costumes, the way your bodies tilted subtly toward each other. You and $M_name, like two relics of a nobler era, stitched together under party lights.
<<if $M_gender is "male">>He looked at you then, like he was seeing everything—the heat behind your eyes, the exact pattern of thought you were trying to bury, the map of every inch of your soul. He squeezed your hand lightly before leaning in just a little, but it was close enough that you could smell the myrrh and frankincense scent of his cologne. You swore you could count each particle of gold in his irises too. Only if you were brave enough to lean in even more, of course.<<elseif $M_gender is "female">>She looked at you then, like she was seeing everything—the heat behind your eyes, the exact pattern of thought you were trying to bury, the map of every inch of your soul. She squeezed your hand lightly before leaning in just a little, but it was close enough that you could smell the myrrh and frankincense scent of her perfume. You swore you could count each particle of gold in her irises too. Only if you were brave enough to lean in even more, of course.<</if>>
And then, someone called $M_hisher name.
$M_name closed $M_hisher eyes, just for a second. When $M_heshe opened them, the shine in $M_hisher gaze was back under lock and key.
$M_HeShe offered you one last smile, still holding your hand like $M_heshe didn’t want to let go. Then $M_heshe did. “Enjoy the event.”
With that, $M_heshe was gone. Folded back into the crowd, back into the responsibilities $M_heshe seemed to have been born for.
But you stood there, still holding the shape of $M_hisher hand in yours, as if your pulse had been rewritten to a new rhythm entirely.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.96">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.96]]*/<<if hasVisited("Ch 4.95.2")>><<audio "MB1" fadeoverto 15 0>><</if>>It didn’t take long before the party roped you in as well.
There was no resisting it. Not the rhythm, not the heat, not the low gold light that clung to everyone’s skin like melted candlewax. The music pulsed with a crazy amount of boosted bass under your feet, and from the makeshift DJ booth, someone started playing a Justin Bieber song. You couldn’t even be mad. ‘Beauty and a Beat’ hit harder than you'd like to admit, especially when the chorus came on and people started going ham while bouncing around like they were standing on burning coals.
A circle had formed on the floor, arms reaching out to make a crude and joyous ring. Inside, students spun and flailed in their gauzy replicas of Ancient Greek clothings, their feet pounding the stone as if they wanted to summon the Dean himself to file a noise complaint. Someone spun on their knees. Another one did the worm.
<strong>“IT’S ALL ABOUT YOU, WHEN THE MUSIC MAKES YOU MOVE…!”</strong>
You found yourself whooping and shouting the lyrics with them, getting genuinely caught up in it. The beat thrummed in your bones like a second heart, your body moving before your mind could remember whether it was supposed to feel self-conscious. You were laughing as though all of this was the funniest thing ever and for a second, you weren’t even sure if you were in control of yourself anymore.
Someone handed you a red Solo cup with the amazing drink you were indulging in earlier before the creep ruined your mood. You downed it in three quick gulps.
It was then, out of the corner of your eye, that you caught a flicker of silver.
<div id="centered">[[Camera flash.|Ch 4.97]]</div>
Quick bursts of white-blue light cut through the warm tones of the party like fireflies gone rabid.
You squinted your eyes and saw $W_name, familiar and almost unrecognizable at the same time in $W_hisher white himation under the chaotic strobe of colored light and movement. $W_HeShe was standing a little ways back from the crowd, camera raised to $W_hisher eye, the strap looped lazily around $W_hisher neck. $W_HisHer expression was focused but also mild, and even the camera, it seemed, had to be coaxed into catching these moments.
Students posed, waved, danced harder when they noticed $W_himher taking pictures. Some yelled $W_hisher name. $W_HeShe, in turn, smiled a bit apprehensively at the attention.
You weaved through the press of warm bodies, dodging a pair of tipsy girls trying to salsa, a person with glitter all over their cheeks who was trying to climb onto someone’s shoulders, and some guy doing a somersault that nearly took out a table. When you finally reached $W_himher, you tapped $W_himher lightly on the shoulder.
$W_name jumped so high you thought $W_heshe might drop the camera.
“What the f— oh hey! Sorry,” $W_heshe said over the music, one hand gripping the camera, the other on $W_hisher chest. “You scared me.”
You grinned. “I could tell.”
$W_HeShe huffed out a breath that was half relief, half embarrassment. $W_HisHer cheeks flushed a little, which only made you smile more at how winsome $W_hisher reactions could be.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.98">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.98]]*/You glanced down at the camera hanging from $W_hisher neck and raised an eyebrow. $W_HeShe followed your gaze and gave a little shrug.
“Photography society,” $W_heshe explained, shouting a little to be heard over the bass. “They needed someone to cover the event for the campus newspaper and yearbook. None of the other members got invites, so I guess they decided to trust me not to embarrass them.”
You tilted your head at that, amused.
“Also,” $W_heshe added with a tiny smile, “maybe they think I’m the only one who won’t spend the evening getting too drunk to work the camera.”
You snorted. “So that makes you the chosen one for tonight.”
$W_HeShe clicked the shutter again without looking, catching someone mid-dab in the corner of the room. “For better or for worse.”
“You should give yourself more credit,” you chided gently. “Your skills must be good if they let you sign up for the Yale Undergraduate Photography Society.”
$W_name hummed, looking a little insecure. “I suppose so. Though I was also a little too enthusiastic when showing my portfolio.”
You watched $W_himher line up a shot through the swarm of dancing bodies, the light from the camera screen flickering white and blue across $W_hisher cheek.
“You must really love photography," you said after your little observation.
“It’s one of my hobbies, yes,” $W_heshe informed, the corners of $W_hisher mouth slightly tugging up. “But what I really love is film. Filmmaking. Cinematography, directing… those sorts of stuff.”
You tilted your head. “And here I thought I was talking to only a photographer.”
$W_name laughed softly. It was a small, diffident sound that barely rose over the music echoing off the walls. “Sorry to tell you that I’m not a one-trick pony.”
“Do you want to be a director someday?” you inquired curiously.
$W_HeShe looked at you like $W_heshe wanted to say yes, but instead $W_heshe asked, “What about you? Do you like film?”
*<<link '“I like <em>watching</em> films, sure. But being part of the creative process? Nah.”' "Ch 4.99.1">><<set $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble + 3, 0, 100); $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant - 3, 0, 100); $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100); $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100); $stat1 to "Humble"; $stat2 to "Genuine">><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.99.1]]*/
*[[“I do kinda know my way around cameras, but I’ve never taken it too seriously.”|Ch 4.99.2][$Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100), $Intuitive to Math.clamp($Intuitive + 3, 0, 100), $Strategic to Math.clamp($Strategic - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Laidback", $stat2 to "Intuitive"]]
*[[“I think I’d rather fit more into being someone whom the lens is trained on, no?”|Ch 4.99.3][$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Arrogant", $stat2 to "Sarcastic"]]<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>You raised your hands in mock surrender. “I should leave that to the professionals, don’t you think?”
You gave $W_himher a pointed, exaggerated look that made it abundantly clear who you were calling the professional. $W_name let out a breath of laughter, disbelieving but kind of pleased nonetheless.
After a brief lull fell between you two, you tilted your chin toward the camera in $W_hisher hands.
$W_name hesitated for a blink. Not like $W_heshe didn’t want to tell you, but like $W_heshe was thinking about how to explain it right.
“It’s a Sony A7R V,” $W_name started. “Mirrorless. 61 megapixel resolution. It’s got this 3.2-inch articulating touchscreen, 4-axis with 2,360K dots, and it shoots video in 8K, which is just… insane. It’s kind of a beast.”
Excitement seemed to crept into $W_hisher voice as $W_heshe continued to speak, real and bright and unabashed.
“It was a gift,” $W_heshe said, the words slower now. “From my aunt. She gave it to me when I got my acceptance letter from Yale. Though between you and I, I think she would’ve given it to me even if I ended up going to Penn State.”
You let out a low whistle. “I have no idea what all that photography argot meant, but she must’ve really known what you wanted.”
“She did,” $W_name confirmed with a wistful smile. “Apparently she’d been putting away chunks of her paycheck every month for it ever since I started my junior year of high school.”
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.100">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.100]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>“Now don’t start quizzing me about them,” you said, half-joking. “I’m afraid I’ll end up embarrassing myself if you do.”
$W_name shot you an amused look. “Don’t worry. I’m not the type to ask someone to start naming related stuff in order to prove that they like something.”
“Thank god for that,” you said as you sighed out in an exaggerated manner, earning a laugh from the blonde beside you.
After a brief lull fell between you two, you tilted your chin toward the camera in $W_hisher hands.
$W_name hesitated for a blink. Not like $W_heshe didn’t want to tell you, but like $W_heshe was thinking about how to explain it right.
“It’s a Sony A7R V,” $W_name started. “Mirrorless. 61 megapixel resolution. It’s got this 3.2-inch articulating touchscreen, 4-axis with 2,360K dots, and it shoots video in 8K, which is just… insane. It’s kind of a beast.”
Excitement seemed to crept into $W_hisher voice as $W_heshe continued to speak, real and bright and unabashed.
“It was a gift,” $W_heshe said, the words slower now. “From my aunt. She gave it to me when I got my acceptance letter from Yale. Though between you and I, I think she would’ve given it to me even if I ended up going to Penn State.”
You raised your eyebrows, impressed. “She must really love you. And she clearly paid attention to what you wanted if this is the camera you got.”
“She did,” $W_name confirmed with a wistful smile. “Apparently she’d been putting away chunks of her paycheck every month for it ever since I started my junior year of high school.”
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.100">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.100]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>You made an exaggerated smolder and it only took one look at your expression for $W_name to burst out laughing.
“Hey now,” you complained dramatically, “I’m trying to give you my best camera-ready face here.”
$W_HeShe wiped the tears from $W_hisher eyes as $W_heshe tried to suppress $W_hisher chortles. “I can see that. If I do end up making a movie, you’ll be my first choice for one of the casts.”
You smirked in a faux smug way. “Finally, my talents are being recognised.”
That earned you another proper laugh from $W_himher. You also noticed how $W_hisher shoulders loosened and $W_hisher hand dropped from the camera.
You then nodded at the device. “So… what are you shooting on?”
$W_name hesitated for a blink. Not like $W_heshe didn’t want to tell you, but like $W_heshe was thinking about how to explain it right.
“It’s a Sony A7R V,” $W_name started. “Mirrorless. 61 megapixel resolution. It’s got this 3.2-inch articulating touchscreen, 4-axis with 2,360K dots, and it shoots video in 8K, which is just… insane. It’s kind of a beast.”
Excitement seemed to crept into $W_hisher voice as $W_heshe continued to speak, real and bright and unabashed.
“It was a gift,” $W_heshe said, the words slower now. “From my aunt. She gave it to me when I got my acceptance letter from Yale. Though between you and I, I think she would’ve given it to me even if I ended up going to Penn State.”
You let out a low whistle. “I have no idea what all that photography argot meant, but she must’ve really known what you wanted.”
“She did,” $W_name confirmed with a wistful smile. “Apparently she’d been putting away chunks of her paycheck every month for it ever since I started my junior year of high school.”
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.100">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.100]]*/<<notify>>Saved!<</notify>>You raised your brows, thinking of your father after hearing the quiet love behind that sentence. “That’s kind of incredible.”
$W_HeShe smiled, but it wasn’t just with $W_hisher mouth as the smile softened $W_hisher whole face. “She’s… she’s the best. You should join me the next time I FaceTime her, she’d love to see you ag—”
And just like that, $W_heshe cut $W_himself off mid-sentence. It was as if $W_hisher mind had caught up with $W_hisher mouth too late.
“Wait. Sorry. That’s not what I meant. I—” $W_name shook $W_hisher head and gave you a pained, embarrassed smile. “I keep mixing you up with that old friend of mine. My bad.”
And the thing was, you should’ve felt awkward. You should’ve said it was fine with that stiff smile people use when they’re trying not to wince. But you didn’t. You didn’t feel weird or insulted or displaced. Oh well, it wasn’t the first weird reaction you had all day.
So instead, you offered $W_himher a small, comforting smile. “It’s no big deal. Don’t worry about it.”
But $W_heshe wouldn’t look at you. Whatever gleam had been in $W_hisher eyes just minutes ago had dulled, like someone had pulled a shade over a window too suddenly. $W_HisHer gaze hovered somewhere over your shoulder, never quite landing. And when $W_heshe finally spoke, it was with the flat finality of someone who wanted the moment behind $W_himher.
“I should get back to work,” $W_heshe said, already shifting $W_hisher weight like $W_heshe meant to vanish before you could respond.
And maybe you should have let $W_himher go. Let $W_himher slip into the sea of people and blinking lights and loud music, pretend like the last few minutes hadn’t happened at all. But something in you resisted the logic of it all.
*[[“Wait! Can I… can I get your number?”|Ch 4.101.1][$Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious + 3, 0, 100), $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive - 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Cautious", $stat2 to "Friendly"]]
*[[“Wait! I can help you with the work, maybe?” [♥]|Ch 4.101.2][$Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100), $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100), $Strategic to Math.clamp($Strategic + 3, 0, 100), $Intuitive to Math.clamp($Intuitive - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Impulsive", $stat2 to "Strategic", $W_romance to $W_romance+2]]<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>Your voice snagged on the air between you. You watched the effect like ripples in a still lake.
$W_HeShe froze, long enough that you knew $W_heshe wasn’t going to completely ignore you. $W_HisHer shoulders eased, just barely. And then there was <em>that</em> look on $W_hisher face again; a warm thread of hope $W_heshe was trying very hard to tamp down.
“Yeah. Sure,” $W_heshe agreed, a little too casual, like $W_heshe didn’t want you to see how much lighter $W_hisher voice sounded now.
$W_HeShe pulled out $W_hisher phone, and you did the same. The glow of the screens cast a soft light between you as you hovered close enough for NameDrop to do its magic. A soft ding, two shared contacts.
Once the screen dimmed, $W_name slipped the phone back into $W_hisher pocket and gave you an abashed smile before gripping $W_hisher camera again.
“See you around,” $W_heshe said while waving timidly. And with that, $W_heshe disappeared into the crowd, a brief spark tucked back into the dark.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.105">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.105]]*/<<audio "WB1" loop play>><<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>$W_name’s brows lifted slightly like $W_heshe wasn’t sure $W_heshe’d heard you right. “Help?”
You nodded, a little breathless from the momentum of your own idea. “Yeah! I can point out the interesting stuff happening around the party. And maybe convince people to pose better?”
$W_HeShe hesitated, and in that breath-long pause, you could almost see the gears turning in $W_hisher head. Weighing you, the situation, and the strange kindness of your offer. Then, slowly, $W_hisher expression shifted like a cloud clearing just enough to let some sunlight through.
“Yeah,” $W_heshe said, smiling a little. “That’d actually help a lot.”
“Let’s go, then,” you said, filled with a strange energy now, and without thinking—or even looking, to be honest—you reached out and slipped your hand into $W_hisher.
It was so damn natural. Instinctive. Like you’d done it a hundred times before. Like you’d always done it. <strong>Like you’d never stopped doing it.</strong>
Except you hadn’t. And the confounded half-squeak, half-gasp that escaped $W_name was, for you, a definite proof of that. But you barely caught it beneath the bass-heavy music thundering around you, and besides, $W_heshe didn’t pull away. If anything, $W_hisher hand seemed to hold onto yours a little tighter.
It felt the exact same way you imagined it’d be: warm, thin, slightly chapped from the dryness of $W_hisher palm as you tugged $W_himher into the tide of partygoers. But most of all, it felt <em>right</em>.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.102">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.102]]*/The night spun around you in flashes of motion and dimly-lit oddities. You became $W_hisher eyes, pointing out candid moments: a guy attempting to crowd-surf on a foldable chair, a trio doing a synchronized dance by the DJ booth to ‘360’ by Charli XCX, a girl balancing a red Solo cup on her forehead while reciting all twenty-seven Amendments of the Constitution.
$W_HeShe followed your cues without question, camera snapping in crisp, precise clicks, each photo catching a sliver of the evening before the exact point in time passed.
You paused at the edge of a circle where a keg-stand contest was in full swing. There were triumphant shouts, a spray of beer, and then one of the guys promptly threw up, still hanging upside down.
<<if $Humble gt $Arrogant or $Laidback gt $Uptight>>“God, why do they do this to themselves?” $W_name muttered, pulling $W_hisher camera closer like it needed shielding from the scene. The look of pure revulsion on $W_hisher face made it very hard for you to not burst into laughter.<<else>>“God, why do they do this to themselves?” $W_name muttered, pulling $W_hisher camera closer like it needed shielding from the scene. You’d have laughed at the look of pure revulsion on $W_hisher face if you weren’t wearing an identical expression as well.<</if>>
Eventually, the two of you made your way to the quieter corners, asking people if they wanted photos taken. Free of charge, of course.
Most of them were couples, arms draped over each other, glitter-stuck faces pressed cheek to cheek. You directed their poses by embodying the spirit of a half-drunk fashion photographer. Tilting heads, adjusting light angles, telling someone to smile a little less murderously.
$W_name didn’t complain once. $W_HeShe just clicked, over and over, like the night made more sense that way; with your voice in $W_hisher ear and $W_hisher finger on the shutter, the two of you traversed through the noise together.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.103">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.103]]*/You sat shoulder to shoulder with $W_Billy on the cold stone staircase, half-listening to the noise from the party. $W_HisHer camera sat warm between you, screen glowing as $W_heshe flipped through the shots.
“These are <em>so</em> good, what the hell?” you said, nudging $W_hisher shoulder with yours. “You’ve got this freaky talent for catching the exact second there’s a perfect moment.”
$W_name smiled in a sheepish manner at your compliment.
“And let’s be real,” you added with a mock flip of your hand, “those drunk, sweaty students would’ve looked <em>way</em> worse if someone else had taken up the mantle of being their photographer tonight.”
$W_HisHer ears turned red, and $W_heshe laughed, ducking $W_hisher head as though your admiration was a gust of wind $W_heshe couldn’t quite weather. Still, $W_heshe straightened a bit, like a sunflower displaying its heliotropic nature. Every time $W_heshe tried to protest modestly, you cut $W_himher off with more praise, until all $W_heshe could do was sit still and take it.
Then you turned to $W_himher, as an idea struck you. “Can you take a picture of me?”
$W_HeShe looked surprised at your sudden request. “Wait. Really?”
“If you’re up for it.”
$W_name looked briefly stunned but $W_heshe eventually nodded. “I won’t mind.”
You found a somewhat free patch around the wall which was near the steep incline leading to the courtyard, lit only by an overhead emergency light that cast a sort of doldrum red over everything. You struck your poses then…
<<set $MC_ch4poses to []>>
[You should choose at least 3]
<label><<checkbox "$ch4pose1" false true autocheck>> Face the camera with a neutral, unsmiling expression. Your hands are clasped loosely in front or behind your back.</label>
<label><<checkbox "$ch4pose2" false true autocheck>> Your gaze is directed away from the camera, either down at the floor or subtly towards the red light.</label>
<label><<checkbox "$ch4pose3" false true autocheck>> Lean against the wall, directly underneath the red light with your arms crossed or held close.</label>
<label><<checkbox "$ch4pose4" false true autocheck>> Stand slightly turned from the camera, head tilted with a confident smirk playing on your lips.</label>
<label><<checkbox "$ch4pose5" false true autocheck>> Stand directly under the red light, head tilted, pointing a finger to the incline leading up with a bewildered look.</label>
<label><<checkbox "$ch4pose6" false true autocheck>> One hand on a hip, head thrown back in a laugh while also striking a silly, over-the-top fashion pose.</label>
<label><<checkbox "$ch4pose7" false true autocheck>> Stand with arms crossed and a pouty, annoyed expression, as if you’re being kicked out of the party.</label>
After the last shutter click, $W_heshe sat back beside you and flipped through the images again. $W_HeShe turned the screen toward you, and your breath caught.
You looked glowingly alive. Like you’d been born out of starlight and aurora borealis. Pupils wide, laurel crown askew, hair wild from the revelry.
“Does your camera have a beauty filter installed or something?” you asked, half-kidding.
$W_name shook $W_hisher head before looking at you with a sincerity that almost rattled you.
“No,” $W_heshe said simply. “That’s just how you really are.”
And at that statement, the world felt like it’d dropped away from under your feet. You were caught in the sapphire-blue waves of $W_hisher gaze, and you knew with a thrill in your chest that—somehow, someway—$W_heshe was sinking with you.
Then $W_heshe blinked, cleared $W_hisher throat like $W_heshe was waking from a dream, and took two steps back, brushing $W_hisher palms against $W_hisher himation like something needed shaking off. $W_HeShe didn’t meet your eyes.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.104">>
<<if $ch4pose1>><<set $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100); $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100)>><</if>>
<<if $ch4pose2>><<set $Introvert to Math.clamp($Introvert + 3, 0, 100); $Extrovert to Math.clamp($Extrovert - 3, 0, 100)>><</if>>
<<if $ch4pose3>><<set $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100); $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100)>><</if>>
<<if $ch4pose4>><<set $Extrovert to Math.clamp($Extrovert + 3, 0, 100); $Introvert to Math.clamp($Introvert - 3, 0, 100)>><</if>>
<<if $ch4pose5>><<set $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100); $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100)>><</if>>
<<if $ch4pose6>><<set $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100)>><</if>>
<<if $ch4pose7>><<set $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100); $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100)>><</if>>
<</button>>/*[[Ch 4.104]]*/You tried to ignore the odd, low ache of disappointment settling in your chest like sediment in a glass of water. You smiled anyway, easy and light, and thanked $W_name for the photos. $W_HeShe nodded, the movement a little jerky.
“No problem,” $W_heshe said, but $W_heshe was still looking down, fingers fidgeting with the dials on $W_hisher camera like $W_heshe was tuning a radio that hadn’t worked in years.
Then, $W_heshe glanced up. It looked like it had taken all $W_hisher remaining courage to hold your gaze. You could see it happening with whatever thought had bloomed in $W_hisher head, the exact moment the idea arrived. It was as though there was a lightbulb above $W_hisher head.
$W_HeShe took a breath, deep and shaky, and asked, “Hey, uh– could I… could I please get your number?”
Your brain flatlined for half a second.
$W_HeShe hurried to clarify. “I mean so I can send the pictures once I’ve transferred them to my laptop. If you want them, that is.”
There was no reason to feel giddy about that. None. But you did. Like a ridiculous balloon tied to a wrist, you felt yourself float up, light and stupid.
“Yeah, that sounds good,” you assented, maybe a little too spiritedly.
But $W_heshe didn’t even catch it. $W_HeShe just grinned wide while looking a little amazed, as though $W_heshe couldn’t quite believe you'd said yes.
“Okay! Cool!” $W_heshe said breathlessly.
Both of you fumbled for your phones, fingers tangling with the linens of the fabric. The brightness of the screens cast a soft light between you as you hovered close enough for NameDrop to do its magic. There was a soft ding and two shared contacts before $W_name tucked $W_hisher phone back into $W_hisher himation pocket.
$W_HeShe then gave you an abashed smile, and you couldn’t help but think that it looked like it belonged to someone who wasn’t used to smiling on purpose as $W_heshe adjusted the strap of $W_hisher camera.
“It was... really nice spending time with you,” $W_heshe croaked out.
“Yeah. It was really nice to spend time with you too,” you replied as you smiled back. “I’ll see you later?”
$W_name nodded in agreement, giving you one last longing look before waving meekly and melting into the dense crowd.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.105">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.105]]*/<<if hasVisited("Ch 4.104")>><<audio "WB1" fadeoverto 15 0>><</if>>You weren’t trying to get sucked back into the party just yet. The lights had begun to take on that syrupy quality they always did once the night got too blurry and the music got too loud. So you detoured, heading for the long, cloth-covered table you’d passed earlier, snagged one of the grape-shaped pastries (this one was dusted with powdered sugar), and refilled a red Solo cup with that unnamed but dangerously addictive punch.
That’s when you heard a voice that felt like sandpaper on your eardrums, agitating and grating, one you could recognize even amongst a goddamn tornado warning.
“$D_name! $D_name!”
You turned. “Jesus, Lacroix, if you yell any louder, you might actually succeed in rendering me deaf. Which would be a mercy at this point, honestly.”
$C_name whipped around. The scowl that formed on $C_hisher face when $C_heshe saw it was you was practically a reflex. “If you don’t know where the person I’m looking for is, you should keep your damn quips to yourself.”
“Now I get it. $D_name is <em>definitely</em> hiding from you because you’re overbearing as fuck,” you shot back with a jibing smile as you held out the cup in your hand. “Here. Drink this. Calm down. ‘Take a chill pill,’ as George Washington once said.”
$C_name rolled $C_hisher eyes so hard it looked like $C_heshe might end up spraining something. “George Washington did <em>not</em> say that.”
<div id="centered"><<link "But $C_heshe took the cup anyway." "Ch 4.106">><</link>></div>/*[[Ch 4.106]]*/You watched $C_name sip it, lips twitching as if $C_heshe was trying very hard not to admit it was good, then asked, “So why the dramatic yelling? What’s with the ‘oh no, where’d my bestie go’ routine?”
$C_HeShe frowned, the expression tugging at the corners of $C_hisher mouth. “Last I saw $D_himher, $D_heshe was already planning to get shitfaced drunk and blacking out, surrounded by those other idiots $D_heshe calls friends.”
$C_HeShe paused for a bit before $C_heshe continued, “I asked them if they knew where $D_heshe might have gone. They didn’t. They just looked at each other with a confused expression like the bunch of numbskulls they are.”
$C_name looked away, somewhere amongst the crowd, jaw clenched. “I don’t like people hanging around $D_name when $D_heshe’s under the influence. They get too brave. Too touchy. Like $D_himher being inebriated means open season for them.”
*<<link '“Shit. I can understand why you’d feel that way. Tell you what, since I’m gonna be staying here for a while anyways, I’ll text you if I find $D_himher.”' "Ch 4.107.1">><<set $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100); $Strategic to Math.clamp($Strategic + 3, 0, 100); $Intuitive to Math.clamp($Intuitive - 3, 0, 100); $stat1 to "Friendly"; $stat2 to "Strategic">><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.107.1]]*/
*<<link '“Why don’t we search for $D_himher together? I mean, two pairs of eyes is better than one and all that.” [♥]' "Ch 4.107.2">><<set $C_romance to $C_romance+2; $Intuitive to Math.clamp($Intuitive + 3, 0, 100); $Strategic to Math.clamp($Strategic - 3, 0, 100); $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100); $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100); $stat1 to "Intuitive"; $stat2 to "Genuine">><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.107.2]]*/ <<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>$C_name blinked. The expression in $C_hisher face filled with a pleasant surprise. “You’d do that?”
You shrugged with a sardonic smile. “Sorry to burst your bubble, Lacroix, but I’m not the literal devil, y’know.”
$C_name let out a short, disbelieving huff, the corner of $C_hisher mouth twitching into a jeer. “That comparison would be an insult to the devil. He’s probably more bearable than you.”
It didn’t land with the bite $C_heshe wanted it to. The retort was dulled, sanded down into something more like habit than venom, and you both knew it. There was no sting behind it, only a grudging sort of respect.
Still, you caught the signal of gratitude in $C_hisher eyes. Or maybe it was guilt, laced into the way $C_heshe looked away like the smidgen of care you showed for $C_hisher best friend was more intimate than anything you could’ve offered.
$C_name downed the rest of the drink in one smooth motion, throat bobbing. Then, quieter than before, like this part wasn’t meant to be said out loud, “Thanks.”
You didn’t say anything. Just gave a nod that didn’t even have a trace of teasing for once.
And then $C_heshe was gone again, vanishing into the blur of people and sweat and too-loud bass, back on the hunt for the person $C_heshe couldn’t stop protecting.
You watched $C_himher go, and the voluntary lack of a biting remark before $C_heshe left felt a lot like the beginning of a reluctant truce.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.113">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.113]]*/<<audio "CB1" loop play>><<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>$C_name looked at you like you’d just offered to wrestle a bear. Stared, blinking slowly, as though trying to recalculate everything $C_heshe thought $C_heshe knew about you.
You caught the look and huffed. “What? Nobody deserves to be taken advantage of when they’re at their most vulnerable.”
That shut $C_himher up. Not that $C_heshe was usually not quiet in the right moments; it’s just that now, there was no scathing retort or snide comeback. Just a small, wordless nod.
The search began.
You both moved through the pulse of the party like searchlights slicing through fog. Eyes scanning the press of bodies, mouths repeating the same question to anyone who would listen: <em>Have you seen $D_name Diaconu? Chestnut brown hair, gray eyes, pale skin, and a smirk like $D_heshe was about to flirt the pants off of you.</em>
Nope. No one had seen $D_himher.
Everyone had seen someone who <em>looked</em> like $D_himher, though. The descriptions spilled out with alcohol-heavy breath: “Wait, was $D_heshe with the girl who has that kanji tattoo?” “Was $D_heshe dancing on the speakers?” “Is $D_heshe the one who threw up in the laundry room?”
By the time you’d circled back to where you started from, the party had become even more unmanageable, if that was possible. It seemed like half of Yale was probably in that basement, though of course that was an exaggeration. Probably. Hopefully.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.108">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.108]]*/Eventually, tired and glistening with sweat, you both gave up for the moment and collapsed onto the cold concrete steps that led up to the first floor. It felt like hitting a pause button.
“I’m going to kill $D_himher,” $C_name muttered, head in $C_hisher hands, voice like gravel dragged across the ground. “Running me around this whole damn party like a headless chicken.”
You looked over at $C_himher, and—god help you—you chuckled at the unexpected imagery in your head.
$C_name looked up with a mildly annoyed expression. “This is not funny.”
You shrugged. “It kind of is. I mean, for once, I’m not the cause of your irritation.”
$C_HeShe scoffed. “Enjoy the rarities then, I guess.”
You smiled and, indeed, let yourself enjoy the rare moment. It almost felt like spotting a shooting star and deciding not to make a wish just yet, being satisfied to just watch it burn instead.
$C_HeShe was wearing that familiar frown again, the one that always ends up being etched into $C_hisher features like muscle memory. And yet, it never quite creased the skin around $C_hisher brows. It was as if even $C_hisher brooding had boundaries. $C_HisHer eyes glinted with the pale green shade of chalcedony. Beautiful in that distant way glaciers are beautiful: deadly and slow to thaw. They repelled warmth the way magnets repelled like poles. You felt as though you could love $C_himher and still freeze trying to reach the finishing line.
There was always something else in $C_himher, too. A quiet sort of pain that seeped from $C_hisher bones the way radiation did; not always visible, but toxic if you stood too close for too long. It didn’t matter how much time had passed since the last exposure, the rads still added up. Like the reward for surviving whatever caused $C_himher this unrepentant sadness was a punch card. One that had been filled out by life years ago. Now $C_heshe was just punching it through to see if all of it was actually real.
You’d known it was there for as long as you’d known $C_himher. A shadow stitched to $C_hisher heels. You didn’t name it. Didn’t point at it with your words like some people might. You only got close enough to feel it brush against your skin, like a warning. Unless, of course, $C_heshe looked at you too long and your tongue duplicitously betrayed you.
<div id="centered"><<link "Which it almost did now as $C_heshe’d caught you staring." "Ch 4.109">><</link>></div>/*[[Ch 4.109]]*/$C_name gave you a look, but it was neither a sneer nor a scowl. It wasn’t even that intense, withering glare you’d come to associate with $C_hisher displeasure.
No, it was one of those elusive expressions from $C_hisher personal catalogue, the kind you’d seen enough times to practically color code inside your brain. Some of the regulars were:
<div id="centered"><em><strong>Studious-Student-Who-Smiles-and-Nods-at-Whatever-Any-Higher-Authority-Says
Aggravated-Student-Finds-That-$C_HeShe-Did-Not-Get-The-Best-Grade-in-Class
Murderous-Gaze-Reserved-for-Group-Project-Members-Who-Don’t-Pull-Their-Weight</strong></em></div>
They were all well-practiced. They all fit $C_himher perfectly. But this one… this was infrequent.
<div id="centered"><em><strong>Green-Eyed-Grump-Finds-Something-To-Wholeheartedly-Admire</strong></em></div>
You’d almost forgotten $C_heshe had that one amongst $C_hisher collection of usually miffed countenances.
You’d seen it only once or twice before. And maybe you were imagining it, but for a second, it softened the sharpness that $C_heshe proudly carried with $C_himher. Made $C_name $C_middle Lacroix look, just for a few seconds, like someone you could touch without cutting yourself on the edges $C_heshe had.
Whether that was even possible or just an open ruse that your heart had chosen to not identify, you didn’t get the chance to test it.
Because before you could say anything, or even breathe into that sudden, shaky silence, $C_hisher attention snagged elsewhere. Two people a few steps below you on the stairs, loud in that tipsy, half-shouted whisper people think is subtle when their brains are steeped in ethanol. You could see the words practically rising off their tongues in the form of vapor.
$C_HeShe turned toward them like a hound catching a scent, and just like that, the moment was over.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.110">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.110]]*/You also turned to observe the two who were leaning on the banister. One girl had curly black hair and the person with her had bubblegum-pink braids.
The former leaned in and stage-whispered, “I swear I had class with those two yesterday. Carstairs’ lecture, I think? Anyway,” she continued, dragging out the vowels, “they looked at each other like– like they were about to either kill or kiss each other. I don’t even remember what the question was, but it was very much giving enemies-to-lovers.”
The person with her giggled. A straight-up, full-body giggle, high-pitched and delighted.
“That is so cute,” they squealed, as if the whole thing was a live taping of a rom-com and they’d just seen the teaser trailer.
Beside you, $C_name made a face like $C_heshe’d just gotten a whiff of manure.
“Can those two airheads not tell that we can clearly hear them?” $C_heshe muttered, just loud enough for you and definitely them to hear. Although it didn’t look like they even noticed that $C_heshe was speaking.
You sighed, more weary than embarrassed. “They’re too drunk to have an ounce of awareness about their surroundings.”
$C_name grumbled something under $C_hisher breath, biting off each syllable like it tasted bad. <<hovertip '[<em>French</em>] Why is everyone here so hopeless?'>>“<em>Pourquoi tout le monde ici est si désespérant?</em>”<</hovertip>>
You almost laughed. Almost. But it was hard to laugh when you were the topic of someone else’s fanfiction being written in real time.
You stole a glance at $C_himher—still bristling, still lovely in that sharp, untouchable way—and said…
<<if $French>>
*<<link "… just to needle $C_himher a little, <<hovertip '[<em>French</em>] Could be worse. At least they think we’d be cute together.'>><em>“Ça pourrait être pire. Au moins, ils pensent qu'on serait mignons ensemble.”</em><</hovertip>>" "Ch 4.111.1">><<set $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100); $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.111.1]]*/
*<<link "… to shyly comment on what they were gossiping about, <<hovertip '[<em>French</em>] It’s fine. I think it’s just because they’re too tipsy to know what they’re talking about.'>><em>“C'est bon. Je pense que c'est seulement parce qu'ils sont trop pompettes pour savoir ce qu'ils racontent.”</em><</hovertip>>" "Ch 4.111.2">><<set $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100); $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.111.2]]*/
<<else>>
*<<link '… just to needle $C_himher a little, “Could be worse. At least they think we’d be cute together.”' "Ch 4.111.3">><<set $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100); $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.111.3]]*/
*<<link "… to shyly comment on what they were gossiping about, “It’s fine. I think it’s just because they’re too tipsy to know what they’re talking about.”" "Ch 4.111.4">><<set $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100); $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100)>><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.111.4]]*/
<</if>><<notify 5s>>+ Bold<</notify>>$C_name looked at you as if that was the most offensive part. It also didn’t help that you had the gall to say it in French.
<<hovertip '[<em>French</em>] No'>><em>“Non,”</em><</hovertip>> $C_heshe said, the foreign words rolling out crisply as $C_heshe crossed $C_HisHer arms. <<hovertip '[<em>French</em>] We’re not cute together. Absolutely not.'>><em>“On n’est pas mignons ensemble. Absolument pas.”</em><</hovertip>>
You chuckled, though it was short-lived as your eyes glanced at $C_hisher lips without meaning to. You also didn’t mean to focus on $C_hisher mouth, but you did. The shape of it, the softness of $C_hisher lower lip, a color not unlike a pink rose petal. You remembered it in the back of your mind, from the way it had looked in the winter light outside the auditorium at prep school, and before that, in the morning glow of Aldervale’s art studio, and before that still, when $C_heshe'd been reciting Virginia Woolf’s poems from memory like it was life and death during the first time you noticed $C_himher during class.
What was this feeling though? You’d never found the right name for it. Longing, maybe. Or foolishness. Or maybe a bit of both.
What had it even meant, back during the school years you spent alongside the green-eyed $C_boy? This quiet little ache that clung to your ribcage like hydrangeas? Had you ever really understood it? And did you want to be free of it now, or had it settled too deeply in you to pull out?
More importantly, you wondered if $C_name had ever looked at you the same way. Had ever thought about what your mouth looked like when you teased $C_himher, or what your voice sounded like when you were trying not to sound too giddy.
You didn’t ask because it was easier to bury those thoughts deep in the vault of your heart and pretend they were old letters you only read on rainy days. Because daydreams couldn’t humiliate you. Because saying it out loud would turn it into a stinging pain that may never be forgotten as it sliced you anew every time you remembered the moment.
The ache of pining was a kind of pain you were used to. But rejection? That was a different case entirely.
<strong>“How can we recognize happiness if we don’t know hurt?”</strong> was a question people loved to ask when they <em>weren’t</em> hurting. It was a stupid question, really. You could dig into the stupidity of that thought for centuries and still not reach the bottom. You don’t have to be aware of one extreme to know about the other. That's not how happiness works.
So, you decided, you’ll keep the longing a little while longer. At least it was yours.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.112.1">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.112.1]]*/Before you could submerge yourself too deep into your musings, you decided to just think about it all later.
In the meantime, you gave a dramatic little gasp, clutching your chest like someone in a period drama. <<hovertip '[<em>French</em>] Oh? So you think we’re cute separately?'>><em>“Oh? Alors tu penses qu’on est mignons séparément?”</em><</hovertip>> You tilted your head at $C_himher, eyelashes batting with mock innocence.
$C_HeShe opened $C_hisher mouth to quickly say, <<hovertip '[<em>French</em>] Yes– no! That’s not what I said!'>><em>“Oui– non! Ce n’est pas ce que j’ai dit!”</em><</hovertip>> $C_HeShe pointed an accusing finger at you, as if that would physically hold back your words. <<hovertip '[<em>French</em>] Stop putting words in my mouth'>><em>“Arrête de me faire dire ce que je n'ai pas dit,”</em><</hovertip>> $C_heshe snapped, but $C_hisher tone was losing its drive.
Mostly because $C_hisher ears were turning pink. Vividly, unmistakably pink. And that only made you want to keep pushing, just to see how far it went.
You leaned forward, all teeth and mischief. <<hovertip '[<em>French</em>] Admit it. You think I’m cute.'>><em>“Avoue-le. Tu me trouves mignon.”</em><</hovertip>> A pause. <<hovertip '[<em>French</em>] Or attractive. Or incredibly charming. Whatever word you want to use.'>><em>“Ou attirant. Ou incroyablement charmant. Peu importe le mot que tu veux utiliser.”</em><</hovertip>>
$C_name made a strangled noise, somewhere between a growl and a gasp. <<hovertip '[<em>French</em>] Insufferable. That’s the word I’d use for you. A pompous, insufferable fool.'>><em>“Insupportable. C’est le mot que j’utiliserais pour toi. Un imbécile pompier et insupportable.”</em><</hovertip>>
You grinned, pleased beyond reason. <<hovertip '[<em>French</em>] That’s more than one word. Are you sure you’re not thinking about me a little too much? I’m really flattered, Lacroix.'>><em>“C’est plus d’un mot ça. T’es sûr que tu penses pas un peu trop à moi? Je suis vraiment flattée, Lacroix.”</em><</hovertip>>
$C_HeShe practically launched to $C_hisher feet after that, not able to bear your cheeky replies any longer.
“I need to find $D_name,” $C_heshe declared with theatrical indignation. “And I don’t have time for your stupid games, $MC_surname.”
You didn’t even try to hide your laughter when, in $C_hisher rush to escape, $C_heshe not only stomped down the staircase but also forcibly separated the two gossipers, muttering something in French about respecting other people’s privacy like $C_heshe’d been personally wronged by their mere existence.
You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from full-on cackling. Instead, you leaned back until your shoulders hit the cool stairwell wall and tilted your head to look up at the ceiling.
You let yourself smile, wide and stupid and absolutely victorious.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.113">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.113]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Shy<</notify>>$C_name let out an exasperated sigh and rolled $C_hisher eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall right out of their sockets. “Still. <<hovertip '[<em>French</em>] They should mind their own business.'>><em>Ils devraient s'occuper de leurs oignons.</em><</hovertip>>”
You nodded, though you barely heard the words. The rhythm of your heart had started to pick up, far too loud in your ears. It was louder than the party, louder than the distant music, louder than the reverberating footsteps under you. You nodded, yes, like you understood, but you were looking down at your shoes, the floor swimming a little in your vision from the sheer heat rising to your face.
You dared to glance up. Just a flick of the eyes. You didn’t mean to focus on $C_hisher mouth, but you did. The shape of it, the softness of $C_hisher lower lip, a color not unlike a pink rose petal. You remembered it in the back of your mind, from the way it had looked in the winter light outside the auditorium at prep school, and before that, in the morning glow of Aldervale’s art studio, and before that still, when $C_heshe'd been reciting Virginia Woolf’s poems from memory like it was life and death.
What was this feeling though? You’d never found the right name for it. Longing, maybe. Or foolishness. Or maybe a bit of both.
What had it even meant, back during the school years you spent alongside the green-eyed $C_boy? This quiet little ache that clung to your ribcage like hydrangeas? Had you ever really understood it? And did you want to be free of it now, or had it settled too deeply in you to pull out?
More importantly, you wondered if $C_name had ever looked at you the same way. Had ever thought about what your mouth looked like when you smiled, or what your voice sounded like when you were trying not to sound too hopeful.
You didn’t ask because it was easier to bury those thoughts deep in the vault of your heart and pretend they were old letters you only read on rainy days. Because daydreams couldn’t humiliate you. Because saying it out loud would turn it into a stinging pain that may never be forgotten as it sliced you anew every time you remembered the moment.
The ache of pining was a kind of pain you were used to. But rejection? That was a different case entirely.
<strong>“How can we recognize happiness if we don’t know hurt?”</strong> was a question people loved to ask when they <em>weren’t</em> hurting. It was a stupid question, really. You could dig into the stupidity of that thought for centuries and still not reach the bottom. You don’t have to be aware of one extreme to know about the other. That's not how happiness works.
So, you decided, you’ll keep the longing a little while longer. At least it was yours.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.112.2">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.112.2]]*/$C_name glanced sideways and noticed your quiet demeanor. The way the corners of your mouth were no longer curled upward in the usual way. $C_HisHer brows pulled together in barely suppressed anger.
“<<hovertip '[<em>French</em>] I’m gonna give those two a piece of my mind'>><em>Je vais dire à ces deux-là ce que je pense,</em><</hovertip>>” $C_heshe said, tone clipped.
You turned to $C_himher, bewildered at the change in $C_hisher mood. “<<hovertip '[<em>French</em>] Huh? What?'>><em>Hein? Quoi?</em><</hovertip>>”
“<<hovertip '[<em>French</em>] You’re upset because of what they were saying about us, aren’t you?'>><em>Tu es contrarié à cause de ce qu'ils disaient sur nous, n'est-ce pas?</em><</hovertip>>” $C_heshe asked, already halfway to standing.
For a second, you just stared, blank. Then, realization clanged in your chest like a bell, echoing with a feeling too warm and too sudden to be safe. $C_HeShe’d assumed your ‘sad’ silence was because of what they said. $C_heshe was about to go and waste breath and energy on total strangers, just because $C_heshe thought they made you feel bad.
It was so unexpectedly sweet of $C_himher that it made you laugh. It was a sound that had burst from your chest without permission, full-bodied with all teeth and joy and brightness.
$C_name froze, blinking like $C_heshe was hearing something like that for the very first time.
You tilted your head back and let the sound ripple out. It felt stupid and wonderful and a little bit like flying. When you opened your eyes again, $C_heshe was still staring, still unable to look away from the sheer display of magic in front of $C_himher.
“<<hovertip '[<em>French</em>] No, don’t worry'>><em>Non, ne t'inquiète pas,</em><</hovertip>>” you gently assured. “<<hovertip '[<em>French</em>] I was just… lost in other thoughts.'>><em>J'étais juste... perdu dans d'autres pensées.</em><</hovertip>>”
$C_name blinked, the trance breaking before letting out a grunt. “<<hovertip '[<em>French</em>] Right'>><em>D'accord.</em><</hovertip>>”
$C_HeShe then made a small noise in $C_hisher throat and stood. You could see $C_himher trying to recalibrate. Like your laughter had pulled something out of $C_himher and $C_heshe didn’t know how to slot it back into place.
“I should go find $D_name,” $C_heshe mumbled.
You nodded, offering $C_himher an encouraging smile. And that was apparently too much because $C_heshe promptly tripped on the third step down.
$C_HeShe caught $C_himself, barely, back straightening with a stiffness that was equal parts annoyance and embarrassment. $C_HisHer cheeks burned pink, jaw clenched. $C_HeShe didn’t say another word, just stomped the rest of the way down, muttering something under $C_hisher breath and—because $C_heshe was nothing if not the most forgiving human being to ever exist—shoving between the two gossipers as $C_heshe passed.
You bit your lip to keep from laughing again and leaned back, letting your shoulders touch the cool wall behind you.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.113">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.113]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Bold<</notify>>$C_name looked at you as if that was the most offensive part.
“No,” $C_heshe said as $C_heshe crossed $C_hisher arms. “No, we're not cute together. Absolutely not.”
You chuckled, though it was short-lived as your eyes glanced at $C_hisher lips without meaning to. You also didn’t mean to focus on $C_hisher mouth, but you did. The shape of it, the softness of $C_hisher lower lip, a color not unlike a pink rose petal. You remembered it in the back of your mind, from the way it had looked in the winter light outside the auditorium at prep school, and before that, in the morning glow of Aldervale’s art studio, and before that still, when $C_heshe'd been reciting Virginia Woolf’s poems from memory like it was life and death.
What was this feeling though? You’d never found the right name for it. Longing, maybe. Or foolishness. Or maybe a bit of both.
What had it even meant, back during the school years you spent alongside the green-eyed $C_boy? This quiet little ache that clung to your ribcage like hydrangeas? Had you ever really understood it? And did you want to be free of it now, or had it settled too deeply in you to pull out?
More importantly, you wondered if $C_name had ever looked at you the same way. Had ever thought about what your mouth looked like when you teased $C_himher, or what your voice sounded like when you were trying not to sound too giddy.
You didn’t ask because it was easier to bury those thoughts deep in the vault of your heart and pretend they were old letters you only read on rainy days. Because daydreams couldn’t humiliate you. Because saying it out loud would turn it into a stinging pain that may never be forgotten as it sliced you anew every time you remembered the moment.
The ache of pining was a kind of pain you were used to. But rejection? That was a different case entirely.
<strong>“How can we recognize happiness if we don’t know hurt?”</strong> was a question people loved to ask when they <em>weren’t</em> hurting. It was a stupid question, really. You could dig into the stupidity of that thought for centuries and still not reach the bottom. You don’t have to be aware of one extreme to know about the other. That's not how happiness works.
So, you decided, you’ll keep the longing a little while longer. At least it was yours.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.112.3">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.112.3]]*/Before you could submerge yourself too deep into your musings, you decided to just think about it all later.
In the meantime, you gave a dramatic little gasp, clutching your chest like someone in a period drama. “Oh? So you think we're cute separately?” You tilted your head at $C_himher, eyelashes batting with mock innocence.
$C_HeShe opened $C_hisher mouth to quickly say, “Yes– no! That's not what I said!” $C_HeShe pointed an accusing finger at you, as if that would physically hold back your words. “Stop putting words in my mouth,” $C_heshe snapped, but $C_hisher tone was losing its drive.
Mostly because $C_hisher ears were turning pink. Vividly, unmistakably pink. And that only made you want to keep pushing, just to see how far it went.
You leaned forward, all teeth and mischief. “Admit it. You think I'm cute.” A pause. “Or attractive. Or incredibly charming. Whatever word you want to use.”
$C_name made a strangled noise, somewhere between a growl and a gasp. “Insufferable. That's the word I'd use for you. A pompous, insufferable fool.”
You grinned, pleased beyond reason. “That's more than one word. Are you sure you're not thinking about me a little too much? I'm really flattered, Lacroix.”
$C_HeShe practically launched to $C_hisher feet after that, not able to bear your cheeky replies any longer.
“I need to find $D_name,” $C_heshe declared with theatrical indignation. “And I don’t have time for your stupid games, $MC_surname.”
You didn’t even try to hide your laughter when, in $C_hisher rush to escape, $C_heshe not only stomped down the staircase but also forcibly separated the two gossipers, muttering something about respecting other people’s privacy like $C_heshe’d been personally wronged by their mere existence.
You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from full-on cackling. Instead, you leaned back until your shoulders hit the cool stairwell wall and tilted your head to look up at the ceiling.
You let yourself smile, wide and stupid and absolutely victorious.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.113">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.113]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ Shy<</notify>>$C_name let out an exasperated sigh and rolled $C_hisher eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall right out of their sockets. “Still. They should mind their own business.”
You nodded, though you barely heard the words. The rhythm of your heart had started to pick up, far too loud in your ears. It was louder than the party, louder than the distant music, louder than the reverberating footsteps under you. You nodded, yes, like you understood, but you were looking down at your shoes, the floor swimming a little in your vision from the sheer heat rising to your face.
You dared to glance up. Just a flick of the eyes. You didn’t mean to focus on $C_hisher mouth, but you did. The shape of it, the softness of $C_hisher lower lip, a color not unlike a pink rose petal. You remembered it in the back of your mind, from the way it had looked in the winter light outside the auditorium at prep school, and before that, in the morning glow of Aldervale’s art studio, and before that still, when $C_heshe'd been reciting Virginia Woolf’s poems from memory like it was life and death.
What was this feeling though? You’d never found the right name for it. Longing, maybe. Or foolishness. Or maybe a bit of both.
What had it even meant, back during the school years you spent alongside the green-eyed $C_boy? This quiet little ache that clung to your ribcage like hydrangeas? Had you ever really understood it? And did you want to be free of it now, or had it settled too deeply in you to pull out?
More importantly, you wondered if $C_name had ever looked at you the same way. Had ever thought about what your mouth looked like when you smiled, or what your voice sounded like when you were trying not to sound too hopeful.
You didn’t ask because it was easier to bury those thoughts deep in the vault of your heart and pretend they were old letters you only read on rainy days. Because daydreams couldn’t humiliate you. Because saying it out loud would turn it into a stinging pain that may never be forgotten as it sliced you anew every time you remembered the moment.
The ache of pining was a kind of pain you were used to. But rejection? That was a different case entirely.
<strong>“How can we recognize happiness if we don’t know hurt?”</strong> was a question people loved to ask when they <em>weren’t</em> hurting. It was a stupid question, really. You could dig into the stupidity of that thought for centuries and still not reach the bottom. You don’t have to be aware of one extreme to know about the other. That's not how happiness works.
So, you decided, you’ll keep the longing a little while longer. At least it was yours.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.112.4">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.112.4]]*/$C_name glanced sideways and noticed your quiet demeanor. The way the corners of your mouth were no longer curled upward in the usual way. $C_HisHer brows pulled together in barely suppressed anger.
“I’m gonna give those two a piece of my mind,” $C_heshe said, tone clipped.’
You turned to $C_himher, bewildered at the change in $C_hisher mood. “Huh? What?”
“You’re upset because of what they were saying about us, aren’t you?” $C_heshe asked, already halfway to standing.
For a second, you just stared, blank. Then, realization clanged in your chest like a bell, echoing with a feeling too warm and too sudden to be safe. $C_HeShe’d assumed your ‘sad’ silence was because of what they said. $C_HeShe was about to go and waste breath and energy on total strangers, just because $C_heshe thought they made you feel bad.
It was so unexpectedly sweet of $C_himher that it made you laugh. It was a sound that had burst from your chest without permission, full-bodied with all teeth and joy and brightness.
$C_name froze, blinking like $C_heshe was hearing something like that for the very first time.
You tilted your head back and let the sound ripple out. It felt stupid and wonderful and a little bit like flying. When you opened your eyes again, $C_heshe was still staring, still unable to look away from the sheer display of magic in front of $C_himher.
“No, don’t worry,” you assured gently. “I was just… lost in other thoughts.”
$C_name blinked, the trance breaking before letting out a grunt. “Right.”
$C_HeShe then made a small noise in $C_hisher throat and stood. You could see $C_himher trying to recalibrate. Like your laughter had pulled something out of $C_himher and $C_heshe didn’t know how to slot it back into place.
“I should go find $D_name,” $C_heshe mumbled.
You nodded, offering $C_himher an encouraging smile. And that was apparently too much because $C_heshe promptly tripped on the third step down.
$C_HeShe caught $C_himself, barely, back straightening with a stiffness that was equal parts annoyance and embarrassment. $C_HisHer cheeks burned pink, jaw clenched. $C_HeShe didn’t say another word, just stomped the rest of the way down, muttering something under $C_hisher breath and—because $C_heshe was nothing if not the most forgiving human being to ever exist—shoving between the two gossipers as $C_heshe passed.
You bit your lip to keep from laughing again and leaned back, letting your shoulders touch the cool wall behind you.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.113">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.113]]*/<<if hasVisited("Ch 4.112.1") or hasVisited("Ch 4.112.2") or hasVisited("Ch 4.112.3") or hasVisited("Ch 4.112.4")>><<audio "CB1" fadeoverto 15 0>><</if>>You were just pouring yourself the umpteenth drink of the night and debating whether to text $V_name to head back to your suite when a flock of drunken, dancing bodies slammed into you. A maroon-colored drink flew through the air and baptized your white outfit in an instant. You gasped in shock as the liquid soaked into the fabric rapidly.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry—”
You blinked in disbelief and turned, slowly, to face the culprit, who looked like $E_heshe was equally as gobsmacked as you: auburn hair, hazel eyes tilting more towards green than brown, and a youthful face that had probably saved $E_himher from at least ten parking tickets.
$E_HisHer words came in a waterfall of apologies, but they washed over you without much impact. You were too busy trying to grab a wad of napkins from the nearest table, blotting and rubbing in vain while the wet fabric clung to your skin with all the dignity of a drowned cat.
*[[“Do you not watch where you’re going?!”|Ch 4.114][$Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Uptight"]]
*[[“How the fuck am I gonna get this off?”|Ch 4.114][$Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Arrogant"]]
*[[“It’s fine, everything is fucking fine.”|Ch 4.114][$Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Friendly"]]
*<<link '“Oh god, $M_name’s probably gonna be so pissed.”' "Ch 4.114">><<set $Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist + 3, 0, 100); $Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist - 3, 0, 100); $stat1 to "Pessimist">><</link>><<notify 5s>>+ $stat1<</notify>><<if $Arrogant gt $Humble>>One of $E_hisher friends was sober enough to look at you and sense your impending wrath before it fully manifested. She grabbed the auburn-haired culprit’s elbow and yanked $E_himher back into the crowd, more of $E_hisher apologies trailing behind $E_himher.<<else>>One of $E_hisher friends was sober enough to look at you and sense your impending breakdown before it fully manifested. She grabbed the auburn-haired culprit’s elbow and yanked $E_himher back into the crowd, more of $E_hisher apologies trailing behind $E_himher.<</if>>
You stood there, sticky and humiliated, napkins now shredded and useless in your hands. The hem of your outfit dripped with the scent of fruits and a hint of alcohol.
You sighed and resigned yourself to the inevitable: damage control.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.115">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.115]]*/The washroom was unisex so you didn’t have to waste time searching for another one. The lights were off when you pushed the door open, which should have been your first warning. You fumbled along the wall, fingers searching for the switch, hands still damp and tacky because of the drink.
The moment the fluorescents crackled on, you immediately regretted being born.
At the far end of the bathroom, a couple was enthusiastically not peeing. Practically naked, limbs tangled, making noises that you wanted to bleach out of your ears. The guy was wearing nothing but a locket and a pair of socks. The girl—well, you didn’t want to think about what she was or wasn’t wearing.
“What the fuck?! ” the guy shouted, throwing a discarded shirt from nearby like you were the offending presence. Ew!
“Get out!” the girl echoed shrilly as well.
*[[“This isn’t your goddamn motel room. Go fuck inside the privacy of your own dorm,” you snapped back, already slamming the door shut.|Ch 4.116][$Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Uptight", $stat2 to "Sarcastic"]]
*[[“I’m so sorry,” you stammered, already retreating and closing the door. “I didn't know the place was occupied. I’ll leave you two alone!”|Ch 4.116][$Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100), $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious + 3, 0, 100), $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Genuine", $stat2 to "Cautious"]]<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>You leaned against it, bracing your back against the wood like it could protect you from the mental scarring. Your mouth stretched around a loud and exasperated, “Fuck!”
You stood there for a moment, before deciding that you couldn’t return to the party like this. You needed water. A miracle. Maybe divine intervention.
That’s when you spotted a door a couple of steps away—small, metal, a little dented with a faded sticker that read:
<h1>JANITOR ROOM</h1>
<h2>Authorized Personnel Only</h2>
Naturally, you made a beeline for it, feet swift with purpose and hope that it at least had some bleach or water so the damage to the outfit wouldn’t look too bad to $M_name.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.117">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.117]]*/It figured that of all the people you could've run into in a janitor's office at a party, it would be $D_name.
You opened the door and there $D_heshe was, bent over the desk with a line of white powder catching the light. The sharp exhale that left $D_hisher mouth at the sound of the door opening was followed by a clipped “Shit!” as $D_heshe scrubbed the desk clean with the nearest scrap of cloth $D_heshe could find and flung a thin plastic straw toward the open trashcan with the accuracy of an NBA player.
Then $D_heshe turned and saw it was just you. The panic melted off $D_hisher face like candlewax under a lighter. $D_HeShe leaned back against the desk like this was a sitcom and not whatever spiral $D_heshe was in.
“I thought I was gonna die,” $D_heshe announced, which might’ve been a joke if it didn’t come out with the manic energy of someone who had narrowly avoided a car crash.
You raised an eyebrow. “Please don’t. I’m not in a place to deal with a dead body right now.”
“Obviously.” $D_heshe chuckled, rubbing a hand over $D_hisher face, the grin wobbling a little at the edges. “So, what brings you to this humble little room?”
You gestured at your previously pristine white outfit, still wet and splotched a sullen maroon. “Some idiot spilled $E_hisher drink all over me. And since the washroom's now a pop-up brothel, I figured I’d try my luck here. Water or bleach. Either works.”
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.118">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.118]]*/“Bleach I can’t promise,” $D_name said, glancing at a cluttered shelf in the corner, “but Sully’s got a whole stash of Aquafina we could use.”
“Sully?” you asked.
“Sullivan’s one of the janitors for Ishikawa,” $D_heshe answered in short before handing you one, cold and beaded with condensation.
You offered a weary “thanks” and rifled through another shelf until you found a clean washcloth. Then you were hunched over, blotting and dabbing at the ancient-looking fabric of your clothes, trying not to make the stain angrier.
Across the room, $D_name lowered $D_himself against the wall with the grace of a wilting plant and slumped down until $D_hisher head hit the plaster.
“You've been here the whole time?” you asked, glancing over. “$C_name’s been going feral trying to find you.”
$D_HeShe let out a low chuckle. “$C_HeShe worries too much. I’m fine. Just needed a break from some deeply annoying people outside.”
You gave $D_himher a sideways look. “Didn’t think you were the type to get annoyed that easily.”
$D_name shrugged. “Some people surprise you with how thoroughly unlikeable they can be.”
The tone in which $D_heshe said it made you pause. You frowned, but didn’t press.
<<if $MC_bacchanaliaoutfit is "Exomis">>Eventually, the exomis looked... passable. Not immaculate, but good enough to throw it in the laundry later without thinking about the stain being permanent. You nodded to yourself and straightened up.<<elseif $MC_bacchanaliaoutfit is "Peplos">>Eventually, the peplos looked... passable. Not immaculate, but good enough to throw it in the laundry later without thinking about the stain being permanent. You nodded to yourself and straightened up.<<elseif $MC_bacchanaliaoutfit is "ChitonP" or $MC_bacchanaliaoutfit is "ChitonB">>Eventually, the chiton looked... passable. Not immaculate, but good enough to throw it in the laundry later without thinking about the stain being permanent. You nodded to yourself and straightened up.<<else>>Eventually, the himation looked... passable. Not immaculate, but good enough to throw it in the laundry later without thinking about the stain being permanent. You nodded to yourself and straightened up.<</if>>
“Thanks for the help,” you said.
$D_HeShe offered you a crooked smile. “No problem.”
But you didn’t miss the way $D_heshe swayed slightly when $D_heshe spoke, or how the ends of $D_hisher sentences trailed off like they weren’t entirely sure where they were supposed to land.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.119">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.119]]*/<<notify>>Saved!<</notify>>You settled down beside $D_himher to keep an eye on $D_himher, the cold wall pressing into your back as if trying to dissuade you from this entire situation. $D_name tilted $D_hisher head lazily toward you, $D_hisher mouth already curled into a familiar smirk that was either charming or completely infuriating depending on your mood.
“You come here often, $MC_handsome?” $D_heshe drawled, $D_hisher Texan accent impossible to miss.
You gave $D_himher a look that could’ve dried paint and said, “Didn’t you know? I happen to really enjoy spending time with half-coherent $D_guys in a dingy custodial office.”
$D_HeShe chuckled, tipping $D_hisher head back until it knocked against the wall. “You really ought to reevaluate your taste in people then.”
“Ha ha,” you deadpanned, and let your head fall back against the wall as well, eyes closed for a second.
When you opened them again, $D_name was digging around in $D_hisher coat pocket. You caught the slight flick of paper, and then $D_heshe pulled out something tightly rolled. It didn’t look like a cigarette, and it was definitely not a cigar either.
“Seriously?” you asked, raising a brow. “Is it smart to smoke that inside a closed room?”
$D_HeShe looked down at the joint like $D_heshe’d forgotten $D_heshe’d even pulled it out. “It’s just one,” $D_heshe said, like that made all the difference. Then, with an overdone sigh, “I was going to use ketamine, but I thought you were someone who’d bust me. Had to ditch it.”
“I remembered,” you said with a slight laugh.
$D_HeShe exhaled mournfully. “On top of that, my dealer’s dry till next week. So I guess I’m going cold turkey. Pray for my soul.”
*[[You bowed your head in mock prayer. “God, please provide salvation for this poor soul beside me.”|Ch 4.120.1][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100), $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Sarcastic", $stat2 to "Friendly"]]
*[[“Are you going to have, like… withdrawal symptoms?” you asked, slower this time.|Ch 4.120.2][$Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious + 3, 0, 100), $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive - 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Cautious", $stat2 to "Genuine"]]
*[[“Maybe it’s your sign to completely give up on these types of substances?” you suggested with a chuckle.|Ch 4.120.3][$Intuitive to Math.clamp($Intuitive + 3, 0, 100), $Strategic to Math.clamp($Strategic - 3, 0, 100), $Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist + 3, 0, 100), $Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Intuitive", $stat2 to "Optimist"]]<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>“Amen,” $D_name echoed after you. Though judging by the smirk on $D_hisher face, you could tell that $D_heshe really couldn’t care less about it.
“In all seriousness,” you said, “maybe it’s not the best idea to get stoned right now either? Considering you already look like you lost a fight with a spinning chair.”
$D_HeShe waved a hand as if swatting at smoke and started patting the pockets of $D_hisher himation again until $D_heshe produced a lighter. This one wasn’t the battered Bic you’d half-expected, but looked pretty heavy and expensive—rectangle, hinge mechanism, pure titanium, engraved swirls, a cross stamped in gold right in the middle. From the Chi-Rho (☧) symbol on it, you guessed that the cross was in the shape of Saint Constantine’s. You also couldn’t help but think that it looked like something looted out of a Byzantine vault.
$D_HeShe flicked it open, sparked the flame, and lit the joint without fanfare before taking a long drag. $D_HeShe then turned to you, gunmetal gray eyes sharp despite the prior edges of intoxication as $D_heshe held the joint out between $D_hisher thumb and index finger, tilted toward you in silent offering.
*[[You accepted with a smile since it wasn’t your first time with marijuana.|Ch 4.121.1][$MC_drugs to "yes"]]
*[[You accepted after some hesitation. College is all about new experiences, right?|Ch 4.121.2][$MC_drugs to "yes"]]
*[[You shook your head. “I don’t do weed.”|Ch 4.121.3]]
*[[You shook your head. “I don’t do drugs in general.”|Ch 4.121.4][$MC_drugs to "no"]]<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>$D_name let out a surprised laugh. You couldn’t tell if it was at your concern or the question. “God, no. I’m not a complete junkie. I don’t need any of it. Consider it as recreational. Like a little jazz on a Sunday, y’know?”
“Right,” you said. “So maybe don’t get stoned right now either? Considering you already look like you lost a fight with a spinning chair.”
$D_HeShe waved a hand as if swatting at smoke and started patting the pockets of $D_hisher himation again until $D_heshe produced a lighter. This one wasn’t the battered Bic you’d half-expected, but looked pretty heavy and expensive—rectangle, hinge mechanism, pure titanium, engraved swirls, a cross stamped in gold right in the middle. From the Chi-Rho (☧) symbol on it, you guessed that the cross was in the shape of Saint Constantine’s. You also couldn’t help but think that it looked like something looted out of a Byzantine vault.
$D_HeShe flicked it open, sparked the flame, and lit the joint without fanfare before taking a long drag. $D_HeShe then turned to you, gunmetal gray eyes sharp despite the prior edges of intoxication as $D_heshe held the joint out between $D_hisher thumb and index finger, tilted toward you in silent offering.
*[[You accepted with a smile since it wasn’t your first time with marijuana.|Ch 4.121.1][$MC_drugs to "yes"]]
*[[You accepted after some hesitation. College is all about new experiences, right?|Ch 4.121.2][$MC_drugs to "yes"]]
*[[You shook your head. “I don’t do weed.”|Ch 4.121.3]]
*[[You shook your head. “I don’t do drugs in general.”|Ch 4.121.4][$MC_drugs to "no"]]<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>“Wouldn’t that be a miracle,” $D_name remarked with a sarcastic smirk. “Sorry to tell you, but if $C_Ceddy bear couldn’t make me stop, nothing can.”
“Still,” you insisted. “I don’t think it’ll be a good idea to get stoned right now. Considering you already look like you lost a fight with a spinning chair.”
$D_HeShe waved a hand as if swatting at smoke and started patting the pockets of $D_hisher himation again until $D_heshe produced a lighter. This one wasn’t the battered Bic you’d half-expected, but looked pretty heavy and expensive—rectangle, hinge mechanism, pure titanium, engraved swirls, a cross stamped in gold right in the middle. From the Chi-Rho (☧) symbol on it, you guessed that the cross was in the shape of Saint Constantine’s. You also couldn’t help but think that it looked like something looted out of a Byzantine vault.
$D_HeShe flicked it open, sparked the flame, and lit the joint without fanfare before taking a long drag. $D_HeShe then turned to you, gunmetal gray eyes sharp despite the prior edges of intoxication as $D_heshe held the joint out between $D_hisher thumb and index finger, tilted toward you in silent offering.
*[[You accepted with a smile since it wasn’t your first time with marijuana.|Ch 4.121.1][$MC_drugs to "yes"]]
*[[You accepted after some hesitation. College is all about new experiences, right?|Ch 4.121.2][$MC_drugs to "yes"]]
*[[You shook your head. “I don’t do weed.”|Ch 4.121.3]]
*[[You shook your head. “I don’t do drugs in general.”|Ch 4.121.4][$MC_drugs to "no"]]You took the joint from $D_hisher fingers with a smile that curled slowly. Your fingertips brushed $D_hisher—a whisper of contact that neither of you commented on—and you brought it to your lips. The paper crinkled slightly as you inhaled, the smoke curling into your lungs smoothly.
The warm descent of calm threaded itself through your chest and out your limbs like molasses. $D_name watched you with a flicker of surprise, then approval, then something unreadable as you exhaled toward the flickering overhead light.
“Well, look at you," $D_heshe murmured. “Didn’t peg you for someone who liked smoking weed.”
You handed it back with a shrug and a smirk. “There’s a lot you have to learn about me.”
$D_HeShe grinned, taking another drag like it was a toast of agreement.
The weed smelled pretty good. Unexpectedly good even, like it had been plucked fresh from a greenhouse. Mint, lemon rind, maybe even licorice if you breathed in deep enough. $D_name had called it MAC 1, said it like it was supposed to mean something to you. You nodded like you understood, even though you didn’t. It’s not like you were a marijuana connoisseur.
When the joint finally burned itself down to its glowing remains, $D_heshe crushed it under one of $D_hisher combat boots. You thought about the contrast: the soft folds of the himation wrapped around $D_himher, like $D_heshe’d been lifted out of a symposium, paired with the scuffed soles of military-grade boots.
Himation. Boots. Weed. You bit back a laugh, because in the moment it felt like the funniest thing in the universe. A result of something that someone dreamed up after watching too many indie films and drinking mezcal.
Maybe the smoke had gotten to you. Actually, it definitely had. In retrospect, it wasn’t even that funny.
*<<link "After a while, you decided to get up and get $C_name so $C_heshe’d take $D_name back to their suite." "Ch 4.122.1">><<set $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100); $Strategic to Math.clamp($Strategic + 3, 0, 100); $Intuitive to Math.clamp($Intuitive - 3, 0, 100); $stat1 to "Friendly"; $stat2 to "Strategic">><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.122.1]]*/
*<<link "After a while, you decided to stay with $D_name to spend some more time together. [♥]" "Ch 4.122.2">><<set $Intuitive to Math.clamp($Intuitive + 3, 0, 100); $Strategic to Math.clamp($Strategic - 3, 0, 100); $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100); $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100); $stat1 to "Intuitive"; $stat2 to "Laidback"; $D_romance to $D_romance+2>><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.122.2]]*/You stared at it like it might bite. Then you glanced at $D_name—$D_hisher wild smile, $D_hisher fraying composure, the way $D_heshe made everything feel one wrong step away from disaster and still, somehow, oddly safe. You reached out.
The moment the smoke hit the back of your throat, you understood why people warned about it. You coughed so hard your lungs felt like they were going to make a break for it. The gray-eyed menace beside you bursted out into peals of laughter, loud and delighted, as $D_heshe patted your back unhelpfully. It was clearly the most entertaining thing $D_heshe’d witnessed all week.
“Rookie mistake,” $D_heshe said, taking the joint back with exaggerated care. “You can’t just inhale from the blunt like it’s plain ol’ oxygen. Think of it more like…” $D_heshe paused, narrowing $D_hisher eyes as $D_heshe searched for the right words. “Seduction. You’ve gotta coax it. <em>Not</em> manhandle it.”
You gave $D_himher a murderous look. “Thanks for the late advice, genius.”
But you were smiling too, even through the wheezing, and $D_heshe was still grinning when $D_heshe handed it back. This time, $D_hisher fingers lingered just a second longer.
The weed smelled pretty good. Unexpectedly good even, like it had been plucked fresh from a greenhouse. Mint, lemon rind, maybe even licorice if you breathed in deep enough. $D_name had called it MAC 1, said it like it was supposed to mean something to you. You nodded like you understood, even though you didn’t. It’s not like you were a marijuana connoisseur.
When the joint finally burned itself down to its glowing remains, $D_heshe crushed it under one of $D_hisher combat boots. You thought about the contrast: the soft folds of the himation wrapped around $D_himher, like $D_heshe’d been lifted out of a symposium, paired with the scuffed soles of military-grade boots.
Himation. Boots. Weed. You bit back a laugh, because in the moment it felt like the funniest thing in the universe. A result of something that someone dreamed up after watching too many indie films and drinking mezcal.
Maybe the smoke had gotten to you. Actually, it definitely had. In retrospect, it wasn’t even that funny.
*<<link "After a while, you decided to get up and get $C_name so $C_heshe’d take $D_name back to their suite." "Ch 4.122.1">><<set $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100); $Strategic to Math.clamp($Strategic + 3, 0, 100); $Intuitive to Math.clamp($Intuitive - 3, 0, 100); $stat1 to "Friendly"; $stat2 to "Strategic">><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.122.1]]*/
*<<link "After a while, you decided to stay with $D_name to spend some more time together. [♥]" "Ch 4.122.2">><<set $Intuitive to Math.clamp($Intuitive + 3, 0, 100); $Strategic to Math.clamp($Strategic - 3, 0, 100); $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100); $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100); $stat1 to "Intuitive"; $stat2 to "Laidback"; $D_romance to $D_romance+2>><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.122.2]]*/$D_name nodded, not offended, not even all that surprised. $D_HeShe took another drag, looking off at the wall like it had something interesting to say. “Fair enough.”
“Guess that just means more for me,” $D_heshe added, a half-smile tugging at $D_hisher mouth as $D_heshe blew smoke out in a perfect ring that disintegrated before it reached the ceiling.
You leaned back against the wall again, your shoulder just barely brushing $D_hishers.
The weed smelled pretty good. Unexpectedly good even, like it had been plucked fresh from a greenhouse. Mint, lemon rind, maybe even licorice if you breathed in deep enough. $D_name had called it MAC 1, said it like it was supposed to mean something to you. You nodded like you understood, even though you didn’t. It’s not like you were a marijuana connoisseur.
When the joint finally burned itself down to its glowing remains, $D_heshe crushed it under one of $D_hisher combat boots. You thought about the contrast: the soft folds of the himation wrapped around $D_himher, like $D_heshe’d been lifted out of a symposium, paired with the scuffed soles of military-grade boots.
Himation. Boots. Weed. You bit back a laugh, because in the moment it felt like the funniest thing in the universe. A result of something that someone dreamed up after watching too many indie films and drinking mezcal.
Maybe the smoke had gotten to you. Actually, it definitely had. In retrospect, it wasn’t even that funny.
*<<link "After a while, you decided to get up and get $C_name so $C_heshe’d take $D_name back to their suite." "Ch 4.122.1">><<set $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100); $Strategic to Math.clamp($Strategic + 3, 0, 100); $Intuitive to Math.clamp($Intuitive - 3, 0, 100); $stat1 to "Friendly"; $stat2 to "Strategic">><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.122.1]]*/
*<<link "After a while, you decided to stay with $D_name to spend some more time together. [♥]" "Ch 4.122.2">><<set $Intuitive to Math.clamp($Intuitive + 3, 0, 100); $Strategic to Math.clamp($Strategic - 3, 0, 100); $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100); $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100); $stat1 to "Intuitive"; $stat2 to "Laidback"; $D_romance to $D_romance+2>><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.122.2]]*/“No worries,” $D_name said with a shrug, the smoke curling out of $D_hisher mouth in a lazy ribbon. “Mad respect from me though.”
That earned a smile from you because it wasn’t what you expected $D_himher to say. $D_HeShe passed the joint to $D_hisher other hand, tapping the ash off against a long-forgotten bottle cap near $D_hisher boot. You both sat in silence after that. It almost felt like the room had been recalibrated into even more of a peaceful setting.
You leaned back against the wall again, your shoulder just barely brushing $D_hishers.
The weed smelled pretty good. Unexpectedly good even, like it had been plucked fresh from a greenhouse. Mint, lemon rind, maybe even licorice if you breathed in deep enough. $D_name had called it MAC 1, said it like it was supposed to mean something to you. You nodded like you understood, even though you didn’t. It’s not like you were a marijuana connoisseur.
When the joint finally burned itself down to its glowing remains, $D_heshe crushed it under one of $D_hisher combat boots. You thought about the contrast: the soft folds of the himation wrapped around $D_himher, like $D_heshe’d been lifted out of a symposium, paired with the scuffed soles of military-grade boots.
Himation. Boots. Weed. You bit back a laugh, because in the moment it felt like the funniest thing in the universe. A result of something that someone dreamed up after watching too many indie films and drinking mezcal.
Maybe the smoke had gotten to you. Actually, it definitely had. In retrospect, it wasn’t even that funny.
*<<link "After a while, you decided to get up and get $C_name so $C_heshe’d take $D_name back to their suite." "Ch 4.122.1">><<set $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly + 3, 0, 100); $Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof - 3, 0, 100); $Strategic to Math.clamp($Strategic + 3, 0, 100); $Intuitive to Math.clamp($Intuitive - 3, 0, 100); $stat1 to "Friendly"; $stat2 to "Strategic">><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.122.1]]*/
*<<link "After a while, you decided to stay with $D_name to spend some more time together. [♥]" "Ch 4.122.2">><<set $Intuitive to Math.clamp($Intuitive + 3, 0, 100); $Strategic to Math.clamp($Strategic - 3, 0, 100); $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100); $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100); $stat1 to "Intuitive"; $stat2 to "Laidback"; $D_romance to $D_romance+2>><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.122.2]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>“Are you feeling okay now?”
“Absolutely A-OK. Never been better,” $D_name chirped, too fast, too cheerful, with a wave that almost knocked over the bottle beside $D_himher.
You sighed and pulled out your phone. “Alright. Since you’ve had your fun, I’m going to text $C_name. Tell $C_himher you’re here. You look like you’re about to tip over.”
“Don’t– ugh,” $D_heshe half-groaned, half-protested, flopping dramatically to the side. “Tattle.”
But you were already typing—until you noticed the ‘No Service’ line at the top of your screen.
You frowned. “Damn it.”
$D_name blinked up at you slowly as you pushed open the door again.
“Stay here,” you told $D_himher, holding your phone aloft as if that alone could summon signal bars. “I’m going to find $C_name. Or some cell service. Whichever comes first.”
$D_HeShe mumbled something incoherent behind you that sounded vaguely accepting as you let the door shut with a soft click.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.127">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.127]]*/<<audio "DB1" loop play>><<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>$D_HeShe seemed wholly affected by the weed. $D_HisHer pupils were blown wide, mouth animated as $D_heshe launched into a monologue about poetry and how it was one of the most cringeworthy things in the world.
“Like, oh, I am so broken, I am always in pain,” $D_heshe was saying dramatically, making $D_hisher chestnut brown hair drape over one half of $D_hisher face. “Oh, I am so different and emo and not like other people.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t songwriting fit into the category of being poetry? The only difference being that it is sung?”
“Technically, yes,” $D_heshe said, no hesitation. “But I’ve never needed a thesaurus to prove how philosophical I can be about human emotions and conditions.”
“Or maybe, hear me out, you’re just too biased to see the similarities.”
$D_HeShe laughed and raised a hand. “Touché. Maybe you have a point after all.”
You stretched your legs out. “I would’ve guessed even you were emo once, at least to some extent.”
That earned you a groan. $D_name tipped $D_hisher head back dramatically, arms outstretched. “Ugh. I went through a short-lived phase, okay? And no, I don’t have any pictures to show you since it was mercifully undocumented. It was before I decided all genres of music could be equally good.”
You squinted at $D_himher. “All?”
“All,” $D_heshe confirmed.
“What about country music?”
$D_HeShe didn’t flinch. “Top five.”
You turned your whole body to stare at $D_himher, full of disbelief. “You’re joking.”
“I’m dead serious,” $D_heshe assured.
You shook your head, still looking at $D_himher like $D_heshe’d admitted to unironically enjoying clowns or mustard ice cream. But $D_heshe just continued to look smug and oddly genuine, like someone who’d learned how to love contradiction and never looked back.
<div id="centered"><<link "And maybe that’s why it wasn’t so surprising that $D_name Diaconu was a walking contradiction $D_himself." "Ch 4.123">><</link>></div>/*[[Ch 4.123]]*/$D_HeShe loved all forms and genres of music, but didn’t extend the same leniency to literature. It wasn’t even snobbery; it was just $D_hisher wiring. $D_HisHer tolerance for country music was infinite. $D_HisHer patience for poetry? Limited.
$D_HeShe dressed like $D_heshe wanted to be remembered: leather jackets, eyeliner smudged from the night before, band tees for bands that had only ever released one album and vanished into obscurity. $D_HeShe looked like $D_heshe googled $D_himself every morning and found it to be quite an enriching experience to pass time with.
But once you get to know $D_himher? Once you saw past the facade? You’ll find this warm, steady soul filled with kindness. $D_HisHer charm was real, low and golden and sprawling like the Texas sun $D_heshe’d grown up under. $D_HeShe remembered people’s names. $D_HeShe never makes you feel like you don’t belong.
The way you’d describe it best is how everyone was born as a blank canvas; pristine and untouched with not even a smudge at the corner or a fingerprint in the paint.
And then the world happens. People start painting on you. Some with gentle brushes, pastels and careful strokes. Others come at you with palette knives and a bucketful of water. They don’t ask if it’s okay, nor do they care if it hurts. They layer you in colors you didn’t ask for: bruised purples, bitter reds, yellow stains.
Eventually, your own hands get involved. You pick up a brush and make your own marks; some of them proud, some of them desperate. Some are just covering up what someone else did to you before. The canvas becomes too crowded with memories.
But there’s a strange kind of magic in that mess, isn’t there? It’s not clean anymore, obviously, but it gives you a chance to see who would care enough to see through you. You start to notice the way someone’s gaze lingers not on the brushstroke that bled off the edge, or the tear in the paper, but instead on the glimpses of white spaces underneath.
That’s when they really see you. That’s when you really see them.
You had a feeling that that’s what was happening here. You were currently seeing through $D_name’s layers of paint. Past the swagger and the jawline and the bedroom eyes and the confidence. Maybe it was all at once. Maybe it was a slow process.
But you like what you see. And judging by the smile $D_heshe’s giving you right now—half-lidded and unmistakably adoring—you think $D_heshe might like what $D_heshe sees too.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.124">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.124]]*/There was nothing coy about the expression of $D_name’s face. It was real, even through the haze of being stoned.
You got why people are drawn to $D_himher. Honestly, it was way too obvious. The magnetism, the recklessness, the perfect symmetry of $D_hisher face. But you noticed that there was usually a quiet shift in $D_himher when it was just you and $D_himher like this. Like some engine inside $D_himher went still. Like this—just talking, breathing, existing with each other in either silence or sound—meant more than all the crowds or stage lights or strangers calling $D_hisher name ever could.
Whatever this thing between you was, it was light. One day you might look down and realize you’d been hovering all along.
It was new. It was terrifying. It was exciting. And it was already yours.
“You're very good-looking, you know that?" $D_name mumbled, voice growing sleepier from the weed. $D_HisHer thumb brushed along the seam of $D_hisher himation like $D_heshe wasn’t sure what to do with his hands.
You laughed, a little embarrassed, a little delighted.
*[[“Funny,” you said, leaning your weight more into the floor to ground yourself, “I was thinking the same thing about you.”|Ch 4.125][$Bold to Math.clamp($Bold + 3, 0, 100), $Shy to Math.clamp($Shy - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Bold"]]
*[[“I–I feel the same way about you,” you said, feeling heat creep up to your cheeks at how un-smooth you sounded.|Ch 4.125][$Shy to Math.clamp($Shy + 3, 0, 100), $Bold to Math.clamp($Bold - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Shy"]]<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1<</notify>>Something about your answer lit $D_himher up. $D_HeShe preened a little before tipping $D_hisher head against the plaster.
“Well,” $D_heshe said, low and slurred, “you’re good-looking in that… not-quite-real way, you know what I mean?”
You turned your face toward $D_himher, the fluorescent light overhead making $D_hisher cheekbones sharper, those long lashes of $D_hishers fluttering like $D_heshe was trying not to fall asleep, though $D_heshe was losing the battle anyway.
“And your mind,” $D_name continued, “it’s one of the most fascinating things I’ve ever tried to figure out.”
You didn’t interrupt. This was another glimpse through one of $D_hisher own coatings, offered not for attention, not for gain, but just because $D_heshe wanted to be seen by you on $D_hisher own accord.
“I like spending time with you as well,” $D_heshe added. “But I usually get too nervous to ask. So I just don’t end up doing anything about it.”
“Then ask,” you said, as soft as your voice would allow. “You’re allowed to do what you want. Take chances.”
<div id="centered"><<if hasVisited("DH1 9")>><<link '$D_HeShe was quiet for a moment. Then: “I wish to kiss you.”' "Ch 4.126.1">><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.126.1]]*/<<else>><<link '$D_HeShe was quiet for a moment. Then: “I wish to kiss you.”' "Ch 4.126.2">><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.126.2]]*/<</if>></div>You felt your breath hitch before you hoarsely asked, “Then why don’t you? It’s not like we haven’t kissed before.”
$D_name smiled then, tender and sad and resolute. “Because I don’t want to do it when I’m high. Not when it might be all floaty and weird and I might forget it or worse, remember it wrong. I want to remember the way you taste. I want to remember the feel of your mouth against mine so well it ruins all the others. I want it to stick. I want to kiss you when it means something I can’t blame on chemicals.”
That shouldn’t have made your stomach flip. But it did in a way you knew you’d have a hard time forgetting, like the half-light of a sunset you never quite took a photo of, but still remember every gradient of.
$D_HisHer voice turned nostalgic. “I still remember the pool. Your lips on mine, my lips on yours. I think about it often. I think of you more than I should.”
You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing would come. All you could do was stare at $D_himher, memorizing the features of $D_hisher face and the way $D_hisher hands lay limp beside $D_himher, Chrome Hearts rings glinting dully in the light.
“You’ve been thinking of me?” you managed to ask.
$D_name nodded, and that single motion looked as if it took every ounce of $D_hisher energy.
You wanted to ask $D_himher what $D_heshe meant. How often? What kinds of thoughts? If $D_heshe thought of you like you thought of $D_himher. But $D_heshe looked out of it now. The high was catching up. You were watching $D_himher drift further out of lucidity, and your heart stirred with concern. This was certainly not the right time for this moment.
So you swallowed your questions and stood before checking your phone and seeing no available bars. No signal, what else did you expect?
“I’ll be right back, okay?” you assured $D_name, hoping $D_heshe was still partially awake. “I’m just going to get $C_name so we can take you back to your suite.”
$D_HisHer fingers were warm when you took $D_hisher hand and your touch lingered just long enough to convey that you meant it. You squeezed gently, a promise tucked into both of your palms.
$D_name didn’t open $D_hisher eyes, but you did spy the corner of $D_hisher mouth tugging up in a tiny smile.
Taking that as a confirmation that $D_heshe did hear what you said, you slipped out the door with your phone held high to look for reception and $C_name. Whichever one you’d find first, honestly.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.127">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.127]]*/You felt your breath hitch before you hoarsely asked, “Then why don’t you?”
$D_name smiled then, tender and sad and resolute. “Because I don’t want to do it when I’m high. Not when it might be all floaty and weird and I might forget it or worse, remember it wrong. I want to remember the way you taste. I want to remember the feel of your mouth against mine so well it ruins all the others. I want it to stick. I want to kiss you when it means something I can’t blame on chemicals.”
That shouldn’t have made your stomach flip. But it did in a way you knew you’d have a hard time forgetting, like the half-light of a sunset you never quite took a photo of, but still remember every gradient of.
“I want you to think of me,” $D_heshe added, eyes closing now, lashes sweeping $D_hisher cheekbones, “just as much as I think of you.”
You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing would come. All you could do was stare at $D_himher, memorizing the features of $D_hisher face and the way $D_hisher hands lay limp beside $D_himher, Chrome Hearts rings glinting dully in the light.
“You’ve been thinking of me?” you managed to ask.
$D_name nodded, and that single motion looked as if it took every ounce of $D_hisher energy.
You wanted to ask $D_himher what $D_heshe meant. How often? What kinds of thoughts? If $D_heshe thought of you like you thought of $D_himher. But $D_heshe looked out of it now. The high was catching up. You were watching $D_himher drift further out of lucidity, and your heart stirred with concern. This was certainly not the right time for this moment.
So you swallowed your questions and stood before checking your phone and seeing no available bars. No signal, what else did you expect?
“I’ll be right back, okay?” you assured $D_name, hoping $D_heshe was still partially awake. “I’m just going to get $C_name so we can take you back to your suite?”
$D_HisHer fingers were warm when you took $D_hisher hand and your touch lingered just long enough to convey that you meant it. You squeezed gently, a promise tucked into both of your palms.
$D_name didn’t open $D_hisher eyes, but you did spy the corner of $D_hisher mouth tugging up in a tiny smile.
Taking that as a confirmation that $D_heshe did hear what you said, you slipped out the door with your phone held high to look for reception and $C_name. Whichever one you’d find first, honestly.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.127">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.127]]*/<<if hasVisited("Ch 4.126.1") or hasVisited("Ch 4.126.2")>><<audio "DB1" fadeoverto 15 0>><</if>>How in the world had you <em>still</em> not found even a single bar of signal?
Your phone glared dumbly back at you with no newfound reception. You scanned the crowd again, faces blurring into masks in the low golden light, but $C_name was nowhere in sight.
You sighed, defeated. Maybe you should just head back to the janitor’s closet and try to help $D_name back to $D_hisher dorm on your own. You turned, ready to retrace your steps when, from the corner of your eye, you saw a familiar figure standing still and staring at you. You looked over.
$D_name?
“What the—” you started, but the words didn’t seem to matter. Once $D_heshe knew that you saw $D_himher, $D_heshe was already slipping through the side entrance, up the slope that led to the courtyard.
Something inside you screamed at you to follow. So you did.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.128">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.128]]*/The courtyard was silent and yawning when you emerged into it. You turned in a slow, confused circle as you noticed that there was literally nobody milling about anymore.
When you tried to see if you could maybe ask $V_name for help, since you knew $V_heshe’d probably be right where you last saw $V_himher, you’re surprised to see that $V_heshe wasn’t on the bench anymore. It all felt wrong in the same way you imagine it would feel to wake up and find your heart had stopped beating overnight.
And then you caught the sight of the white of $D_name’s himation and the light brown of $D_hisher hair. Where in the world was $D_heshe going now?
Your legs started moving again before the rest of you caught up. Because the version of $D_name you’d left behind in that janitor’s room had been too glassy-eyed to even properly remember $D_hisher full name. And you’d be damned if you let something unthinkable happen to someone when you could’ve prevented it.
The trees swallowed you both, one after another.
The party vanished behind you in increments. First, the rumble of bass. Then, the laughter. Then, even the orange glow that spilled from the building’s windows disappeared, snuffed out by tall hedgerows and shadowed walls.
<div id="centered"><<link "But you still followed $D_himher." "Ch 4.129">><</link>>/*[[Ch 4.129]]*/</div>“$D_name?! Where the fuck are you going?! Slow down!”
The $D_guy answered with silence as $D_heshe neither slowed down nor stopped for you. In fact, $D_heshe gave no indication that $D_heshe even heard you at all.
You didn’t know how long you chased that flash of white. It could’ve been minutes. Could’ve been hours. But when your lungs started to feel like mush in your chest, when your knees gave out and the world began to pitch around you in too-bright spirals, you collapsed.
The forest floor welcomed you with sticks and damp moss and the bitter taste of panic behind your teeth. You gagged, nearly vomiting, but your body managed to keep everything down. Your breath sawed in and out of you, heavy and uneven as you looked up.
Somewhere along the line, the world had changed. The trees had grown too tall, and the night had gone too quiet. There weren’t even crickets, and that’s when you knew something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.
You weren’t near the party anymore. You weren’t anywhere you recognized. And worst of all, you were all alone. No, scratch that. It was better to be alone in these circumstances than to have any unwanted company.
Your hand dove into your pockets desperately and you found, with sufficient alarm, that it came up empty. Your phone was gone.
“Shit,” you breathed. It came out like a whimper.
Did it fall? Back where you’d sprinted over roots and half-formed paths, calling after someone who hadn’t turned around once?
You spun back toward the direction you thought you came from. But there was nothing to guide you back. And on top of that, you’d lost track of $D_name.
You were hopelessly lost.
*[[You let out a laugh of hysterical disbelief.|Ch 4.130.1][$Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback + 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Sarcastic", $stat2 to "Laidback"]]
*[[You loudly curse yourself and your luck.|Ch 4.130.2][$Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100), $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100), $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Uptight", $stat2 to "Impulsive"]]
*[[There must be some way out, right?|Ch 4.130.3][$Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist + 3, 0, 100), $Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist - 3, 0, 100), $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious + 3, 0, 100), $Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Optimist", $stat2 to "Cautious"]]
*[[They might as well release your missing poster.|Ch 4.130.4][$Pessimist to Math.clamp($Pessimist + 3, 0, 100), $Optimist to Math.clamp($Optimist - 3, 0, 100), $Arrogant to Math.clamp($Arrogant + 3, 0, 100), $Humble to Math.clamp($Humble - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Pessimist", $stat2 to "Arrogant"]]<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>It started small, like a crack in your ribs. Then it spilled out of you: a jagged, unhinged laugh that echoed through the trees like a warning bell.
You couldn’t help but be amused by the absurdity of it. Lost in the middle of a dark forest, with no phone, no direction while chasing someone who was clearly not in $D_hisher right mind. A spectre who you weren’t even sure was real? Of course. Of fucking course.
The laugh left your chest hollow. The oxygen inside you didn’t feel like it belonged to you anymore.
Before you could sink any further into the sticky tar pit of panic and self-pity, your mind fumbled toward an old memory. It was one of those oddly specific things you didn’t think you’d ever need again. Back in high school, in a history class most people slept through, your teacher, Miss Favre, had gone off on a passionate tangent about early explorers and how they used the stars to find their way long before Google Maps and compasses and signal towers.
She'd shown you how to stretch your hand out toward the sky to measure angles. Pinkie to thumb, horizon to stars. One fist, about ten degrees. Four fingers, fifteen. The North Star, if you could find it, would cling to the tip of your thumb.
You hadn’t thought about that lesson in years. But now, you tilted your head back and saw how the stars were greeting with their watchful twinkles.
You blinked, startled. You almost laughed too, because wasn’t light pollution supposed to choke them out of the sky here? But here they were, like pinholes in the dark fabric of the world, each one quietly staring at you.
You exhaled and lifted your hand, tracing the sky like you'd been taught. There! You were about eighty percent sure that it was the North Star.
A tentative smile ghosted across your lips.
“Okay,” you whispered to yourself. “Okay. I’ve got this.”
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.131">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.131]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>“God damn it,” you snarled at the moon, because there was no one else around to hear you.
You stomped a foot down uselessly on the forest floor and cursed again, louder this time—at your luck, your choices, your incredibly shitty sense of direction. You’d followed $D_name like some heroically stupid protagonist in a horror movie and now you were here, neck-deep in nowhere with nothing but trees that refused to answer back.
“Of course this happens to me,” you added bitterly, because it felt like something that would. It was just your rotten luck, wasn’t it?
Before you could sink any further into the sticky tar pit of panic and self-pity, your mind fumbled toward an old memory. It was one of those oddly specific things you didn’t think you’d ever need again. Back in high school, in a history class most people slept through, your teacher, Miss Favre, had gone off on a passionate tangent about early explorers and how they used the stars to find their way long before Google Maps and compasses and signal towers.
She'd shown you how to stretch your hand out toward the sky to measure angles. Pinkie to thumb, horizon to stars. One fist, about ten degrees. Four fingers, fifteen. The North Star, if you could find it, would cling to the tip of your thumb.
You hadn’t thought about that lesson in years. But now, you tilted your head back and saw how the stars were greeting with their watchful twinkles.
You blinked, startled. You almost laughed too, because wasn’t light pollution supposed to choke them out of the sky here? But here they were, like pinholes in the dark fabric of the world, each one quietly staring at you.
You exhaled and lifted your hand, tracing the sky like you'd been taught. There! You were about eighty percent sure that it was the North Star.
A tentative smile ghosted across your lips.
“Okay,” you whispered to yourself. “Okay. I’ve got this.”
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.131">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.131]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>You took a deep breath that didn’t settle anywhere and forced yourself to look around. The moonlight fractured through the canopy above like spilled silver, and you tried to trace shapes in the trees, in the undergrowth, anything that might resemble a path.
“Okay,” you whispered, a little too loudly for comfort, because a part of you wanted the forest to hear it too. “There’s always a way out. Always.”
You had no compass, no signal, no sight of $D_name, but that didn’t mean you were completely helpless. It just meant the way forward might be sideways. Or backwards. Or through something you did not want to go through. You pressed your palm flat to a tree and tried to feel steady.
Before you could sink any further into the sticky tar pit of panic and self-pity, your mind fumbled toward an old memory. It was one of those oddly specific things you didn’t think you’d ever need again. Back in high school, in a history class most people slept through, your teacher, Miss Favre, had gone off on a passionate tangent about early explorers and how they used the stars to find their way long before Google Maps and compasses and signal towers.
She'd shown you how to stretch your hand out toward the sky to measure angles. Pinkie to thumb, horizon to stars. One fist, about ten degrees. Four fingers, fifteen. The North Star, if you could find it, would cling to the tip of your thumb.
You hadn’t thought about that lesson in years. But now, you tilted your head back and saw how the stars were greeting with their watchful twinkles.
You blinked, startled. You almost laughed too, because wasn’t light pollution supposed to choke them out of the sky here? But here they were, like pinholes in the dark fabric of the world, each one quietly staring at you.
You exhaled and lifted your hand, tracing the sky like you'd been taught. There! You were about eighty percent sure that it was the North Star.
A tentative smile ghosted across your lips.
“Okay,” you whispered to yourself. “Okay. I’ve got this.”
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.131">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.131]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>“Yup. I’m going to die out here,” you said to absolutely no one. “I just hope my story doesn’t end up being told on a true crime podcast. Or worse, while they’re doing their fuckass makeup.”
You stared up at the branches above, half-expecting to see your own obituary written in the stars. Maybe they’d find your missing poster taped to a Yale bulletin board, curled at the corners, next to a flier for a lost bike and a tutoring ad for Organic Chemistry. Your face, smiling politely, under big bold letters: <strong>HAVE YOU SEEN THIS STUDENT?</strong>
“Bet they won’t even use a good photo,” you added, miserably. The idea of them using an unflattering picture almost made you start crying.
Before you could sink any further into the sticky tar pit of panic and self-pity, your mind fumbled toward an old memory. It was one of those oddly specific things you didn’t think you’d ever need again. Back in high school, in a history class most people slept through, your teacher, Miss Favre, had gone off on a passionate tangent about early explorers and how they used the stars to find their way long before Google Maps and compasses and signal towers.
She'd shown you how to stretch your hand out toward the sky to measure angles. Pinkie to thumb, horizon to stars. One fist, about ten degrees. Four fingers, fifteen. The North Star, if you could find it, would cling to the tip of your thumb.
You hadn’t thought about that lesson in years. But now, you tilted your head back and saw how the stars were greeting with their watchful twinkles.
You blinked, startled. You almost laughed too, because wasn’t light pollution supposed to choke them out of the sky here? But here they were, like pinholes in the dark fabric of the world, each one quietly staring at you.
You exhaled and lifted your hand, tracing the sky like you'd been taught. There! You were about eighty percent sure that it was the North Star.
A tentative smile ghosted across your lips.
“Okay,” you whispered to yourself. “Okay. I’ve got this.”
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.131">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.131]]*/At first, you truly did feel okay. A little dazed, maybe, but overall fine. Then your stomach growled and your step faltered.
You frowned as you pressed a hand to your midsection. That didn’t make sense. You’d stuffed yourself on a bunch of those pastries and numerous cups of the drink that you were convinced was ambrosia. There was no reason to feel this hungry, and yet you did.
The ache in your gut turned sharp. Your mouth felt insanely dry. Your hands were too cold. The trees looked taller than they had a few minutes ago, and you were suddenly very aware of how little control you had over your own legs.
You stumbled twice before catching yourself. You then proceeded to move faster as if you could outrun the dizziness pressing against your skull. You tried to raise your hand again to check the stars, but it felt like lifting bricks. Your fingers fluttered in the air, indecisive and weak.
“Calm down,” you told yourself as you leaned against the nearest tree, but you couldn’t. All you could feel was your stomach churning with emptiness, your head spinning like a neverending carousel ride.
The surface of the tree was rough under your hand as you clenched your fists and forced yourself to stand up straight. When you pushed off and tried to walk, your foot caught onto a thick root and you went down with a hard thump.
The impact had knocked most of the air out of your lungs. Your ankle twisted with a nauseating pop! and fire leapt up your leg immediately. Your palms also stung where they scraped against bark and gravel and whatever else the forest coughed up when you tried to break your fall.
*[[Tears spring from your eyes and you let out a pained yell.|Ch 4.132.1][$Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine + 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic - 3, 0, 100), $Emotional to Math.clamp($Emotional + 3, 0, 100), $Pragmatic to Math.clamp($Pragmatic - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Genuine", $stat2 to "Emotional"]]
*[[You bit your bottom lip and didn’t let any pained noise escape.|Ch 4.132.2][$Aloof to Math.clamp($Aloof + 3, 0, 100), $Friendly to Math.clamp($Friendly - 3, 0, 100), $Uptight to Math.clamp($Uptight + 3, 0, 100), $Laidback to Math.clamp($Laidback - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Aloof", $stat2 to "Uptight"]]
*[[You started cursing everything you could think of as you cradled your ankle.|Ch 4.132.3][$Impulsive to Math.clamp($Impulsive + 3, 0, 100), $Cautious to Math.clamp($Cautious - 3, 0, 100), $Sarcastic to Math.clamp($Sarcastic + 3, 0, 100), $Genuine to Math.clamp($Genuine - 3, 0, 100), $stat1 to "Impulsive", $stat2 to "Sarcastic"]]<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>It was loud and raw and terrible and brought forth from the bottom of your lungs. It tore out of you before you could stop it, and it echoed too loudly in the trees around you.
Your hands trembled against the cold earth, grazed and dirty. You blinked hard, trying to clear your vision, but the tears kept coming anyway in hot and humiliating streams. You didn’t even know if they were from pain or fury or the kind of despair that only hits when you realize you’re very small and the world is very, very big.
You took off your footwear to inspect the damage and became so preoccupied with the pain that you didn’t notice the cold until you saw the way your breath started fogging out in front of you. It billowed into the night air, coiling in front of your face in such a slow manner that you started thinking that you were dreaming about winter in the beginning of autumn.
You blinked, shivering as you rubbed your arms with scraped palms, your skin pebbling with goosebumps as the chill seemed to sink its fingers into your very bones. The fabric was too thin, and your skin too warm from pain to properly protect you. Your breath came heavier now, more visible with every exhale, and you were too keenly aware of the silence of the woods.
But then it was suddenly shattered by a guttural bellow that tore through the trees and made the ground vibrate like it was trying to shake you loose. Something massive was coming, and you tried to scramble backward clumsily just as a bovine animal burst from the undergrowth.
It was a huge bison whose breath came out in furious huffs, white and wild in the air. It stumbled, like something had hurt it, and you did not want to be here in case that ‘something’ was still following it. You weren’t even aware that New Haven had bison around! Did it run away from a nearby zoo or something?
The animal stamped and turned and twisted, and then its gaze landed on you. There was some sort of weird intelligence in its eyes, but you were too busy mourning your short life to continue that train of thought.
It further let out a loud grunt and you started to think, quite clearly, ‘This is how I die. Gored by a pissed off woodland cow while I’m not even able to walk properly.’
You braced for the impact. But before you could be skewered into a human shish kebab by the bison’s horns, it froze mid-step and mid-huff as if someone had pressed the pause button on its movement. Whatever it was, you knew it’d saved you from dying an embarrassing death.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.133">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.133]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>You tasted blood before you felt the sensation of your lip tearing. That was the price you paid to keep quiet. To keep it together. The pain throbbed and pulsed with every stubborn breath you took.
You shut your eyes hard, jaw clenched so tightly your teeth ached. You wouldn’t cry. You refused to cry. If you were going to fall apart, it was going to happen somewhere safe, not on a bed of damp leaves. The woods would not be getting the pleasure of seeing $MC_firstname $MC_surname cry tonight.
You took off your footwear to inspect the damage and became so preoccupied with the pain that you didn’t notice the cold until you saw the way your breath started fogging out in front of you. It billowed into the night air, coiling in front of your face in such a slow manner that you started thinking that you were dreaming about winter in the beginning of autumn.
You blinked, shivering as you rubbed your arms with scraped palms, your skin pebbling with goosebumps as the chill seemed to sink its fingers into your very bones. The fabric was too thin, and your skin too warm from pain to properly protect you. Your breath came heavier now, more visible with every exhale, and you were too keenly aware of the silence of the woods.
But then it was suddenly shattered by a guttural bellow that tore through the trees and made the ground vibrate like it was trying to shake you loose. Something massive was coming, and you tried to scramble backward clumsily just as a bovine animal burst from the undergrowth.
It was a huge bison whose breath came out in furious huffs, white and wild in the air. It stumbled, like something had hurt it, and you did not want to be here in case that ‘something’ was still following it. You weren’t even aware that New Haven had bison around! Did it run away from a nearby zoo or something?
The animal stamped and turned and twisted, and then its gaze landed on you. There was some sort of weird intelligence in its eyes, but you were too busy mourning your short life to continue that train of thought.
It further let out a loud grunt and you started to think, quite clearly, ‘This is how I die. Gored by a pissed off woodland cow while I’m not even able to walk properly.’
You braced for the impact. But before you could be skewered into a human shish kebab by the bison’s horns, it froze mid-step and mid-huff as if someone had pressed the pause button on its movement. Whatever it was, you knew it’d saved you from dying an embarrassing death.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.133">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.133]]*/<<notify 5s>>+ $stat1, + $stat2<</notify>>“Shitshitshitshit—” The word spilled out of you in rapid succession. “Fuck! Goddamn roots. Goddamn forest. Goddamn that stupid Bacchanalia party.”
You curled over your throbbing ankle, cradling it close to you. You weren’t sure if you were angry at the trees, yourself, or the sky, which just kept shining up there like it had no idea what it felt like to fall.
You pressed your scraped palms into yourself, still cursing, still trying to keep yourself upright. “Fuck this night, and fuck $D_name and $D_hisher intoxicated ass.”
You took off your footwear to inspect the damage and became so preoccupied with the pain that you didn’t notice the cold until you saw the way your breath started fogging out in front of you. It billowed into the night air, coiling in front of your face in such a slow manner that you started thinking that you were dreaming about winter in the beginning of autumn.
You blinked, shivering as you rubbed your arms with scraped palms, your skin pebbling with goosebumps as the chill seemed to sink its fingers into your very bones. The fabric was too thin, and your skin too warm from pain to properly protect you. Your breath came heavier now, more visible with every exhale, and you were too keenly aware of the silence of the woods.
But then it was suddenly shattered by a guttural bellow that tore through the trees and made the ground vibrate like it was trying to shake you loose. Something massive was coming, and you tried to scramble backward clumsily just as a bovine animal burst from the undergrowth.
It was a huge bison whose breath came out in furious huffs, white and wild in the air. It stumbled, like something had hurt it, and you did not want to be here in case that ‘something’ was still following it. You weren’t even aware that New Haven had bison around! Did it run away from a nearby zoo or something?
The animal stamped and turned and twisted, and then its gaze landed on you. There was some sort of weird intelligence in its eyes, but you were too busy mourning your short life to continue that train of thought.
It further let out a loud grunt and you started to think, quite clearly, ‘This is how I die. Gored by a pissed off woodland cow while I’m not even able to walk properly.’
You braced for the impact. But before you could be skewered into a human shish kebab by the bison’s horns, it froze mid-step and mid-huff as if someone had pressed the pause button on its movement. Whatever it was, you knew it’d saved you from dying an embarrassing death.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.133">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.133]]*/<<notify>>Saved!<</notify>>You were just about to thank the small bit of luck you had when your vision wavered. It felt like your eyes couldn’t agree where to look, or if they should even obey you. One of them started jumping around like a compass gone insane as it looked all around the woods, the sky, and the ground. With growing terror, you also found that you were slowly losing sight in that eye.
You raised a trembling hand to press against it in order to try and shut it, but what you saw instead made your stomach drop clean through the forest floor.
The veins in your hand had turned black. Black like fucking tar as it spread across your entire body in road-like paths. You tried to speak, to scream, to do anything, but your throat seized up with one feeble croak like it had rusted shut.
The cold fled your body like it had never been there in the first place. And in its place came a fiery feeling that rushed under your skin, licking your bones, pouring through your bloodstream in a way that was reminiscent of lava through mountain cracks. You curled in on yourself instinctively as your second eye began to twitch and jerk just like the first and you heaved out silent screeches.
You didn’t remember falling. You barely remembered the ground hitting you. But you did remember the pain. The twisting in your stomach like it was trying to wrench itself inside out. The sensation that your whole body being pulled apart and rebuilt in real time filled every nerve.
<div id="centered">[[And then your consciousness detangles itself from you.|Ch 4.134]]</div>
<<audio "CH4B1" loop play>><em><strong><u>Third Person POV</u></strong></em>
It had been minutes since the $MC_boy fell. Time felt like it was stretching itself too far, like elastic pulled just past its breaking point. $HeShe hadn’t moved, unless you counted the twitching. Little spasms in $hisher fingers or $hisher shoulder or the corner of $hisher mouth, as though $hisher body was warring against an unseen affliction within.
Then, slowly, unnervingly, $heshe rose. To a spectator, it’d seem as if someone had hooked invisible cords into $hisher spine and pulled $himher upright like a marionette. $HisHer eyes remained closed, the black veins webbing across $hisher skin which pulsed vaguely and rhythmically with every beat of $hisher ticker.
$HisHer head twitched once before $hisher eyes snapped open.
Gone was the familiar $MC_eyecolor shade, replaced by an abyssal black that filled the sclera, broken only by two golden irises that gleamed like old molten coins. And in the center of them were those strange horizontal pupils, a shape better suited to a goat than a human—though no goat had ever bore such a baleful glare.
The eyes jittered for a moment, jerking left, right, heavenward, before landing on the bison. Once locked in, they didn’t move for a long while.
$HeShe staggered forward. $HisHer steps were unnatural and misaligned, until $heshe looked down and saw why: $hisher ankle still sat at a horrible angle. $HeShe tilted $hisher head, unconcerned, and with a brutal movement, twisted it the other way. There was a sound like sodden wood snapping before the bone slid back into place.
The $MC_boy—if $heshe could still be considered one—started walking. But even then, $heshe didn’t walk so much as lurch, one step at a time; unsteady like a toddler who had just learned how to use $hisher legs to amble about. $HisHer gaze darted left and right, curious and scanning as $heshe tottered forward barefoot and left dark prints in the soft earth.
The bison had remained frozen until then. But when those gleaming golden eyes landed on it, whatever spell had held it there snapped in an instant. It let out a terrified, nearly human sound and bolted, kicking up soil and leaves while crashing back into the forest with the kind of speed that only came from a creature running for its dear life.
The $MC_boy watched it go. Then $heshe grinned in a way that twisted $hisher $MC_handsome features into an almost grotesque sight. The skin pulled too far over the bones, distorting the shape as if it didn’t quite fit right anymore.
And then $heshe ran after it. $HisHer bare feet barely touched the ground, and as $heshe moved, a low, chittering cackle rose from $hisher throat. Except it wasn’t <em>just</em> $hisher throat as it sounded like a dozen voices laughing all at once. Deep, high, young, old, layered on top of each other like echoes in a cave.
<div id="centered">[[A choir of the damned.|Ch 4.135]]</div>The poor bison never stood a chance. The $MC_boy moved with such an ease that to a more careful observer, it would be clear that the chase was a game and $heshe meant to savor every step. $HeShe let the distance stretch between them, $hisher face twisting in something close to joy, a wicked amount of glee that didn’t sit right in the light of the moon.
And then came the others.
Footsteps crashed through the trees behind $himher, careless and fast, a storm of bare heels and wild breath. The woods erupted into sounds that were reminiscent of humans trying to mimic animals; howls, hisses, and insectoid buzzes made by mouths that were never meant to make them.
Under the liquid spill of moonlight, they could be seen at last: a dozen or more figures, all draped in white linen that hung on their limbs. Their garb might’ve belonged on marble statues, but their eyes gleamed ferally and their bodies moved with the grace of predators. They followed the bison barefoot, their shrieks ricocheting through the night, each sound more unholy than the last.
The bison was panting now, muscles shuddering with fright, legs giving out beneath its own weight. But it didn’t stop until the flames appeared.
The bonfire was already roaring by the time it stumbled into the clearing—built high and hot, its smoke curling upward into the sky. The bison skidded to a halt, hoofs dragging lines into the ground, its sides heaving as it looked around, nostrils flaring. The woods gave it no comfort, and it pawed the earth skittishly as if to summon someone who might save it.
But its nonverbal prayers were only answered by hands. So many of them, descending at once; dirt-smeared as they caught hold of its legs, its neck, its back. The bison roared—a sound thick with fear that reverberated throughout the clearing and might’ve sent even a grown man reeling—but they didn’t let go. And when it reared, they only dug in deeper, their fingers finding purchase anywhere they could.
And then they tore; separating muscle from sinew like paper peeling apart, bones cracking, blood misting in the firelight. They laughed as they did it, but it was surprisingly neither cruel nor gleeful. It was peculiarly as if they couldn’t tell the difference between violence and worship.
The clearing filled with the scent of iron, the crackle of fire, the feral ecstasy of people too far gone to remember they were ever anything else than barbarous.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.136">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.136]]*/They proceeded to dig into the flesh like vultures wearing human skin. Hands scooped into the carcass, tearing morsels loose—wet slabs of meat, dark coils of intestine, even the organs still pulsing faintly with residual life. One lung disappeared into someone’s mouth. The liver was swallowed whole. Blood slicked their chins and soaked through the folds of the white linen they wore until the fabric clung to them.
At the center of it all stood the $MC_boy with the strange eyes. $HisHer mouth, too, was stained red while $hisher garb was in ribbons of viscera and gore. $HeShe looked into the fire, the flames painting $hisher face in shades of gold and a terrifying sort of beauty.
<<if ($C_romance gt $V_romance) and ($C_romance gt $W_romance) and ($C_romance gt $M_romance) and ($C_romance gt $D_romance)>>And then, wordlessly, the hands turned to $himher, though it was not in the way they had with the bison. This time, the touch was reverential; delicate fingertips ghosting over $hisher skin, trailing up $hisher arms and across $hisher chest as if $heshe <<were>> a relic pulled from some holy tomb. One of them, the one with pale green eyes, pressed a hand to $hisher jaw and with $C_hisher other hand, brushed the $MC_haircolor hair from $hisher brow. The former’s movements were slow, soft, and trembling from awe.<<elseif ($V_romance gt $C_romance) and ($V_romance gt $W_romance) and ($V_romance gt $M_romance) and ($V_romance gt $D_romance)>>And then, wordlessly, the hands turned to $himher, though it was not in the way they had with the bison. This time, the touch was reverential; delicate fingertips ghosting over $hisher skin, trailing up $hisher arms and across $hisher chest as if $heshe <<were>> a relic pulled from some holy tomb. One of them, the one with deep brown eyes, pressed a hand to $hisher jaw and with $V_hisher other hand, brushed the $MC_haircolor hair from $hisher brow. The former’s movements were slow, soft, and trembling from awe.<<elseif ($W_romance gt $C_romance) and ($W_romance gt $V_romance) and ($W_romance gt $M_romance) and ($W_romance gt $D_romance)>>And then, wordlessly, the hands turned to $himher, though it was not in the way they had with the bison. This time, the touch was reverential; delicate fingertips ghosting over $hisher skin, trailing up $hisher arms and across $hisher chest as if $heshe <<were>> a relic pulled from some holy tomb. One of them, the one with sapphire blue eyes, pressed a hand to $hisher jaw and with $W_hisher other hand, brushed the $MC_haircolor hair from $hisher brow. The former’s movements were slow, soft, and trembling from awe.<<elseif ($D_romance gt $C_romance) and ($D_romance gt $V_romance) and ($D_romance gt $W_romance) and ($D_romance gt $M_romance)>>And then, wordlessly, the hands turned to $himher, though it was not in the way they had with the bison. This time, the touch was reverential; delicate fingertips ghosting over $hisher skin, trailing up $hisher arms and across $hisher chest as if $heshe <<were>> a relic pulled from some holy tomb. One of them, the one with gunmetal gray eyes, pressed a hand to $hisher jaw and with $D_hisher other hand, brushed the $MC_haircolor hair from $hisher brow. The former’s movements were slow, soft, and trembling from awe.<<else>>And then, wordlessly, the hands turned to $himher, though it was not in the way they had with the bison. This time, the touch was reverential; delicate fingertips ghosting over $hisher skin, trailing up $hisher arms and across $hisher chest as if $heshe <<were>> a relic pulled from some holy tomb. One of them, the one with umber brown eyes, pressed a hand to $hisher jaw and with $M_hisher other hand, brushed the $MC_haircolor hair from $hisher brow. The former’s movements were slow, soft, and trembling from awe.<</if>>
And then the fabric covering the $MC_boy was gone. Torn from $himher in long, desperate pulls, as if the idea of cloth hiding any part of $himher was a blasphemous insult. The crowd crooned as they worked, cooing nonsense and half-formed prayers in Latin, some of them already smearing the blood across $hisher bare chest, $hisher neck, $hisher legs, the lines of $hisher ribs.
$HeShe didn’t even flinch as $heshe simply sat still as a statue; arms outstretched, eyes half-lidded, a god in $hisher own right blessing $hisher congregation with nothing but $hisher silence for now.
The bison’s remains were being handled like the leftovers of a sacred feast. Someone lifted its heart from the wreckage that was its chest and tossed the rest into the bonfire, where it hissed and crackled and sent up a smoke so thick that it seemed to blot out the sky and choke the stars. The $MC_boy remained in the middle of it all, $hisher $MC_skintone skin now red and glistening, more blood than body.
Then they offered $himher the heart of the beast.
<<if ($C_romance gt $V_romance) and ($C_romance gt $W_romance) and ($C_romance gt $M_romance) and ($C_romance gt $D_romance)>>The one with the green eyes placed it in $hisher palm. $HeShe looked at it with something close to curiosity; then bit into it. Steam rose from the tear $hisher teeth made. $HeShe chewed slowly, savoring the taste. After a moment, $heshe extended the organ back to the waiting assemblage, who took it with shaking hands and devoured it together, passing it from mouth to mouth with all the grace of communion.<<elseif ($V_romance gt $C_romance) and ($V_romance gt $W_romance) and ($V_romance gt $M_romance) and ($V_romance gt $D_romance)>>The one with the dark eyes placed it in $hisher palm. $HeShe looked at it with something close to curiosity; then bit into it. Steam rose from the tear $hisher teeth made. $HeShe chewed slowly, savoring the taste. After a moment, $heshe extended the organ back to the waiting assemblage, who took it with shaking hands and devoured it together, passing it from mouth to mouth with all the grace of communion.<<elseif ($W_romance gt $C_romance) and ($W_romance gt $V_romance) and ($W_romance gt $M_romance) and ($W_romance gt $D_romance)>>The one with the blue eyes placed it in $hisher palm. $HeShe looked at it with something close to curiosity; then bit into it. Steam rose from the tear $hisher teeth made. $HeShe chewed slowly, savoring the taste. After a moment, $heshe extended the organ back to the waiting assemblage, who took it with shaking hands and devoured it together, passing it from mouth to mouth with all the grace of communion.<<elseif ($D_romance gt $C_romance) and ($D_romance gt $V_romance) and ($D_romance gt $W_romance) and ($D_romance gt $M_romance)>>The one with the gray eyes placed it in $hisher palm. $HeShe looked at it with something close to curiosity; then bit into it. Steam rose from the tear $hisher teeth made. $HeShe chewed slowly, savoring the taste. After a moment, $heshe extended the organ back to the waiting assemblage, who took it with shaking hands and devoured it together, passing it from mouth to mouth with all the grace of communion.<<else>>The one with the umber eyes placed it in $hisher palm. $HeShe looked at it with something close to curiosity; then bit into it. Steam rose from the tear $hisher teeth made. $HeShe chewed slowly, savoring the taste. After a moment, $heshe extended the organ back to the waiting assemblage, who took it with shaking hands and devoured it together, passing it from mouth to mouth with all the grace of communion.<</if>>
Once it was done, they all turned back to $himher again.
<<button "Next" "Ch 4.137">><</button>>/*[[Ch 4.137]]*/<em><strong><u><div class="glitchtitle" data-text="ረዐርጎቻቹዪ">ረዐርጎቻቹዪ</div> <div class="glitchtitle" data-text="ፐጎጋጎረልፕ">ፐጎጋጎረልፕ</div></u></strong></em>
$HeShe rose, needing no aid from hand nor word. The fire, as if stirred by some unseen breath, leapt higher into the night, and within its blaze there did glimmer that which was foul and of the Pit. From the side of the pyre jutted a leg which was blackened and seared beyond all ken; whether of man or beast none could say, and none did care to ask. One amongst the throng, with naught but apathy, did cast it deeper into the flame, and none so much as blinked.
For all gazes were fastened upon the $MC_boy.
$HeShe stood upright, unashamed and without covering, $hisher flesh glistening with blood, smeared across chest and back as fresh oil upon an altar. $HisHer golden eyes glowed like aureus cast into a wishing-fount. $HisHer ethereal visage twisted into a smile so lovely that it might pass for angelic, had it not been wrought amidst such deranged wickedness.
Then did the multitude lift their voices, crying aloud as with one breath: <<hovertip '[<em>Latin</em>] THE CIRCLE IS FULFILLED'>><em>“<div class="glitchtitle" data-text="CIRCULUS">CIRCULUS</div> <div class="glitchtitle" data-text="CONSUMMATUS">CONSUMMATUS</div> <div class="glitchtitle" data-text="EST!">EST!</div>”</em><</hovertip>>
And lo, the ꙅɒiꙅꙅɘm ꙅuꙅ|ɒᎸ did lift up $hisher hands unto the fire. Then opened $hisher mouth, and from $hisher throat poured a voice resonant and fell, like iron drawn across stone. It did scrape along the bones of all that stood near, setting teeth to ache and hearts to quail, and none who heard it would e’er forget its sound till the grave claimed them.
<div id="centered">[[“Et damnatio nostra nos omnes absolvat.”|Demo End]]</div><<audio "CH4B1" fadeoverto 15 0>><h1> End of Current Demo </h1>
<div id="centered">Thank you for reading! Stay tuned for Chapter 5!</div>[[Chapter 4|Ch 4 Loading]]First name
<<textbox "$MC_firstname" "Enter your name">>
Surname
<<textbox "$MC_surname" "Enter surname">>
Nickname
If you do not use a nickname, enter your first name.
<<textbox "$MC_nickname" "">>
Gender
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_gender" "cisgender male" autocheck>> Cisgender Male</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_gender" "transgender male" autocheck>> Transgender Male</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_gender" "cisgender female" autocheck>> Cisgender Female</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_gender" "transgender female" autocheck>> Transgender Female</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_gender" "non-binary" autocheck>> Non-binary</label>
Pronouns
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_pronouns" "He/Him/His" autocheck>> He/Him/His</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_pronouns" "She/Her/Hers" autocheck>> She/Her/Hers</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_pronouns" "They/Them/Theirs" autocheck>> They/Them/Theirs</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_pronouns" "Xe/Xem/Xyr" autocheck>> Xe/Xem/Xyr</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_pronouns" "Ze/Hir/Hirs" autocheck>> Ze/Hir/Hirs</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_pronouns" "Ey/Em/Eir" autocheck>> Ey/Em/Eir</label>
Title
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_Mr" "Mr" autocheck>> Mr.</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_Mr" "Ms" autocheck>> Ms.</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_Mr" "Mx" autocheck>> Mx.</label>
Height
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_height" "very short" autocheck>> Very short (<=5’0)</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_height" "short" autocheck>> Short (5’1-5’4)</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_height" "average" autocheck>> Average (5’5-5’9)</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_height" "tall" autocheck>> Tall (5’10-6’0)</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_height" "very tall" autocheck>> Very tall (6’1-6’4)</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_height" "towering" autocheck>> Towering (6’5-6’8)</label>
________ of Elias:
<<listbox "$MC_son" autoselect>>
<<option "son">>
<<option "daughter">>
<<option "child">>
<</listbox>>
Eye color
<<listbox "$MC_eyecolor" autoselect>>
<<option "midnight black">>
<<option "earthy brown">>
<<option "cedar brown">>
<<option "sunlit amber">>
<<option "kaleidoscopic hazel">>
<<option "emerald green">>
<<option "meadow green">>
<<option "ocean blue">>
<<option "sky blue">>
<<option "stormy gray">>
<<option "metallic gray">>
<</listbox>>
Hair texture
<<listbox "$MC_hairtexture" autoselect>>
<<option "straight">>
<<option "wavy">>
<<option "loosely curly">>
<<option "tightly curly">>
<<option "coily">>
<</listbox>>
Hair color
<<listbox "$MC_haircolor" autoselect>>
<<option "jet black">>
<<option "raven black">>
<<option "dark brown">>
<<option "brown">>
<<option "golden brown">>
<<option "light brown">>
<<option "auburn">>
<<option "dark red">>
<<option "red">>
<<option "ginger">>
<<option "strawberry blond">>
<<option "dark blond">>
<<option "golden blond">>
<<option "ash blond">>
<<option "light blond">>
<<option "platinum blond">>
<</listbox>>
Skintone
<<listbox "$MC_skintone" autoselect>>
<<option "pale">>
<<option "ivory">>
<<option "beige">>
<<option "olive">>
<<option "bronze">>
<<option "light brown">>
<<option "dark brown">>
<<option "deep black">>
<</listbox>>
Hair length
<<listbox "$MC_hairlength" autoselect>>
<<option "short">>
<<option "chin-length">>
<<option "shoulder-length">>
<<option "chest-length">>
<<option "waist-length">>
<<option "hip-length">>
<</listbox>>
Clothing style
<<listbox "$MC_style" autoselect>>
<<option "grunge">>
<<option "preppy">>
<<option "emo">>
<<option "goth">>
<<option "sportswear">>
<<option "punk">>
<<option "streetwear">>
<<option "biker">>
<<option "Y2K">>
<<option "dark academia">>
<<option "light academia">>
<<option "old money">>
<<option "cottagecore">>
<<option "indie">>
<<option "skater">>
<<option "artsy">>
<<option "boho">>
<<option "trendsetter">>
<<option "90s">>
<<option "downtown">>
<<option "vintage">>
<</listbox>>
Favorite Drink
<<message 'Iced tea'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "sweetened iced tea" autocheck>> Sweetened</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "unsweetened iced tea" autocheck>> Unsweetened</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Tea'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "chai tea" autocheck>> Chai</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "black tea" autocheck>> Black Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "green tea" autocheck>> Green Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "milk tea" autocheck>> Milk Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "oolong tea" autocheck>> Oolong Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "white tea" autocheck>> White Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "herbal tea" autocheck>> Herbal Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "pu-erh tea" autocheck>> Pu-erh Tea</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "blue tea" autocheck>> Blue Tea</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Gatorade'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Lemon-Lime Gatorade" autocheck>> Lemon-Lime</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Orange Gatorade" autocheck>> Orange</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Fruit Punch Gatorade" autocheck>> Fruit Punch</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Raspberry Lemonade Gatorade" autocheck>> Raspberry Lemonade</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Cool Blue Gatorade" autocheck>> Cool Blue</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Arctic Blitz Gatorade" autocheck>> Arctic Blitz</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Frost Riptide Rush Gatorade" autocheck>> Frost Riptide Rush</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Glacier Freeze Gatorade" autocheck>> Glacier Freeze</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Frost Glacier Freeze Gatorade" autocheck>> Frost Glacier Freeze</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Berry Gatorade" autocheck>> Berry</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Cucumber Lime Gatorade" autocheck>> Cucumber Lime</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Grape Gatorade" autocheck>> Grape</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Tropical Mango Gatorade" autocheck>> Tropical Mango</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Powerade'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Mountain Berry Blast Powerade" autocheck>> Mountain Berry Blast</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Fruit Punch Powerade" autocheck>> Fruit Punch</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Orange Powerade" autocheck>> Orange</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Lemon Lime Powerade" autocheck>> Lemon Lime</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Grape Powerade" autocheck>> Grape</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Berry Cherry Powerade" autocheck>> Berry Cherry</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Tropical Mango Powerade" autocheck>> Tropical Mango</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Watermelon Strawberry Powerade" autocheck>> Watermelon Strawberry</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Red Bull'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Red Bull Original" autocheck>> Original</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Red Bull Blue" autocheck>> Blue</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Red Bull Red" autocheck>> Red</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Red Bull Yellow" autocheck>> Yellow</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Red Bull Green" autocheck>> Green</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Monster'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Energy" autocheck>> Energy</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Assault" autocheck>> Assault</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Sunrise" autocheck>> Sunrise</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Red" autocheck>> Red</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Blue" autocheck>> Blue</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Violet" autocheck>> Violet</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Paradise" autocheck>> Paradise</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Gold" autocheck>> Gold</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Peachy Keen" autocheck>> Peachy Keen</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster White Pineapple" autocheck>> White Pineapple</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Red Dragon" autocheck>> Red Dragon</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Mango Loco" autocheck>> Mango Loco</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Monster Pacific Punch" autocheck>> Pacific Punch</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Sodas'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Coca-Cola" autocheck>> Coca-Cola</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Pepsi" autocheck>> Pepsi</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Sprite" autocheck>> Sprite</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Dr. Pepper" autocheck>> Dr. Pepper</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Mountain Dew" autocheck>> Mountain Dew</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "A&W Root Beer" autocheck>> A&W Root Beer</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Crush" autocheck>> Crush</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Fanta" autocheck>> Fanta</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Coffee'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Black Coffee" autocheck>> Black</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Espresso" autocheck>> Espresso</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Café Cubano" autocheck>> Café Cubano</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Café Con Leche" autocheck>> Café Con Leche</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Affogato" autocheck>> Affogato</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Latte" autocheck>> Latte</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Cappuccino" autocheck>> Cappuccino</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Macchiato" autocheck>> Macchiato</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Americano" autocheck>> Americano</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "French Press" autocheck>> French Press</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Cold Brew" autocheck>> Cold Brew</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Turkish Coffee" autocheck>> Turkish</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Mocha" autocheck>> Mocha</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Milkshake'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Vanilla Milkshake" autocheck>> Vanilla</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Chocolate Milkshake" autocheck>> Chocolate</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Strawberry Milkshake" autocheck>> Strawberry</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Cookies and Cream Milkshake" autocheck>> Cookies and Cream</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Peanut Butter Milkshake" autocheck>> Peanut Butter</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Nutella Milkshake" autocheck>> Nutella</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Tiramisu Milkshake" autocheck>> Tiramisu</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Mint Chocolate Chip Milkshake" autocheck>> Mint Chocolate Chip</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Salted Caramel Milkshake" autocheck>> Salted Caramel</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Banana Milkshake" autocheck>> Banana</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Mango Milkshake" autocheck>> Mango</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Blueberry Milkshake" autocheck>> Blueberry</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Blackberry Milkshake" autocheck>> Blackberry</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Raspberry Milkshake" autocheck>> Raspberry</label>
<</message>>
<<message 'Others'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Water" autocheck>> Water</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Hot chocolate" autocheck>> Hot Chocolate</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Lemonade" autocheck>> Lemonade</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_favoritedrink" "Kombucha" autocheck>> Kombucha</label>
<</message>>
<<set $MC_languages to []>>
Languages (__select at most 4__):
<label><<checkbox "$French" false true autocheck>> French</label>
<label><<checkbox "$German" false true autocheck>> German</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Arabic" false true autocheck>> Arabic</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Italian" false true autocheck>> Italian</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Mandarin" false true autocheck>> Mandarin</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Spanish" false true autocheck>> Spanish</label>
<<set $MC_extracurriculars to []>>
Extracurriculars (__select at most five__):
<<message 'Music'>>\
<label><<checkbox "$Piano" false true autocheck>> Piano</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Violin" false true autocheck>> Violin</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Cello" false true autocheck>> Cello</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Guitar" false true autocheck>> Guitar</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Saxophone" false true autocheck>> Saxophone</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Drums" false true autocheck>> Drums</label>
<label><<checkbox "$VoiceLessons" false true autocheck>> Voice lessons</label><</message>>
<<message 'Dance'>>\
<label><<checkbox "$Ballet" false true autocheck>> Ballet</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Contemporary" false true autocheck>> Contemporary</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Lyrical" false true autocheck>> Lyrical</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Classical" false true autocheck>> Classical</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Jazz" false true autocheck>> Jazz</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Waltz" false true autocheck>> Waltz</label><</message>>
<<message 'Sports'>>\
<label><<checkbox "$Swimming" false true autocheck>> Swimming</label>
<label><<checkbox "$IceSkating" false true autocheck>> Ice Skating</label>
<label><<checkbox "$IceHockey" false true autocheck>> Ice Hockey</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Soccer" false true autocheck>> Soccer</label><</message>>
<<message 'Technology'>>\
<label><<checkbox "$ComputerProgramming" false true autocheck>> Computer Programming</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Robotics" false true autocheck>> Robotics</label>
<label><<checkbox "$Engineering" false true autocheck>> Engineering</label><</message>>
<<message 'Social Skills'>>\
<label><<checkbox "$MannersandProtocol" false true autocheck>> Manners and Protocol</label>
<label><<checkbox "$PublicSpeaking" false true autocheck>> Public Speaking</label>
<label><<checkbox "$DebateSociety" false true autocheck>> Debate Society</label>
<label><<checkbox "$ModelUnitedNations" false true autocheck>> Model United Nations</label><</message>>
The program you were applying for was:
<<message 'Pre-Med'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "Biology" autocheck>> Biology</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "Biomedical Engineering" autocheck>> Biomedical Engineering</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "Neuroscience" autocheck>> Neuroscience</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "Psychology" autocheck>> Psychology</label><</message>>
<<message 'Pre-Law'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "Political Science" autocheck>> Political Science</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "History" autocheck>> History</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "Sociology" autocheck>> Sociology</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "Ethics, Politics, and Economics (EPE)" autocheck>> Ethics, Politics, and Economics (EPE)</label><</message>>
<<message 'Fine Arts'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "Art" autocheck>> Art</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "Architecture" autocheck>> Architecture</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "History of Art" autocheck>> History of Art</label><</message>>
<<message 'Humanities and Social Sciences'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "English" autocheck>> English</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "Comparative Literature" autocheck>> Comparative Literature</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "Classical Civilization" autocheck>> Classics</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "Anthropology" autocheck>> Anthropology</label><</message>>
<<message 'Sciences and Engineering'>>\
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "Astrophysics" autocheck>> Astrophysics</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "Computer Science" autocheck>> Computer Science</label>
<label><<radiobutton "$MC_program" "Mechanical Engineering" autocheck>> Mechanical Engineering</label><</message>>
<<button "Next" "Ch 4 Loading 2">>
<<if $French>><<set $MC_languages.push("French")>><</if>>
<<if $German>><<set $MC_languages.push("German")>><</if>>
<<if $Arabic>><<set $MC_languages.push("Arabic")>><</if>>
<<if $Italian>><<set $MC_languages.push("Italian")>><</if>>
<<if $Mandarin>><<set $MC_languages.push("Mandarin")>><</if>>
<<if $Spanish>><<set $MC_languages.push("Spanish")>><</if>>
<<if $Dutch>><<set $MC_languages.push("Dutch")>><</if>>
<<if $Piano>><<set $Music to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Piano")>><</if>>
<<if $Violin>><<set $Music to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Violin")>><</if>>
<<if $Cello>><<set $Music to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Cello")>><</if>>
<<if $Guitar>><<set $Music to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Guitar")>><</if>>
<<if $Saxophone>><<set $Music to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Saxophone")>><</if>>
<<if $Drums>><<set $Music to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Drums")>><</if>>
<<if $VoiceLessons>><<set $Music to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Voice lessons")>><</if>>
<<if $Ballet>><<set $Dance to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Ballet")>><</if>>
<<if $Contemporary>><<set $Dance to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Contemporary dance")>><</if>>
<<if $Lyrical>><<set $Dance to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Lyrical dance")>><</if>>
<<if $Classical>><<set $Dance to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Classical dance")>><</if>>
<<if $Jazz>><<set $Dance to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Jazz dance")>><</if>>
<<if $Waltz>><<set $Dance to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Waltz")>><</if>>
<<if $Swimming>><<set $Sports to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Swimming")>><</if>>
<<if $IceSkating>><<set $Sports to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Ice Skating")>><</if>>
<<if $IceHockey>><<set $Sports to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Ice Hockey")>><</if>>
<<if $Soccer>><<set $Sports to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Soccer")>><</if>>
<<if $ComputerProgramming>><<set $Technology to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Computer Programming")>><</if>>
<<if $Robotics>><<set $Technology to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Robotics")>><</if>>
<<if $Engineering>><<set $Technology to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Engineering")>><</if>>
<<if $MannersandProtocol>><<set $SocialSkills to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Manners and Protocol")>><</if>>
<<if $PublicSpeaking>><<set $SocialSkills to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Public Speaking")>><</if>>
<<if $DebateSociety>><<set $SocialSkills to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Debate Society")>><</if>>
<<if $ModelUnitedNations>><<set $SocialSkills to true; $MC_extracurriculars.push("Model United Nations")>><</if>>
<<if $MC_pronouns is "He/Him/His">><<set $HeShe to "He", $heshe to "he", $HimHer to "Him", $himher to "him", $HisHer to "His", $hisher to "his", $HisHers to "His", $hishers to "his", $Himself to "Himself", $himself to "himself", $plural to false>>
<<elseif $MC_pronouns is "She/Her/Hers">><<set $HeShe to "She", $heshe to "she", $HimHer to "Her", $himher to "her", $HisHer to "Her", $hisher to "her", $HisHers to "Hers", $hishers to "hers", $Himself to "Herself", $himself to "herself", $plural to false>>
<<elseif $MC_pronouns is "They/Them/Theirs">><<set $HeShe to "They", $heshe to "they", $HimHer to "Them", $himher to "them", $HisHer to "Their", $hisher to "their", $HisHers to "Theirs", $hishers to "theirs", $Himself to "Themself", $himself to "themself", $plural to true>>
<<elseif $MC_pronouns is "Xe/Xem/Xyr">><<set $HeShe to "Xe", $heshe to "xe", $HimHer to "Xem", $himher to "xem", $HisHer to "Xyr", $hisher to "xyr", $HisHers to "Xyrs",$hishers to "xyrs", $Himself to "Xemself", $himself to "xemself", $plural to false>>
<<elseif $MC_pronouns is "Ze/Hir/Hirs">><<set $HeShe to "Ze", $heshe to "ze", $HimHer to "Hir", $himher to "hir", $HisHer to "Hir", $hisher to "hir", $HisHers to "Hirs", $hishers to "hirs", $Himself to "Hirself", $himself to "hirself", $plural to false>>
<<elseif $MC_pronouns is "Ey/Em/Eir">><<set $HeShe to "Ey", $heshe to "ey", $HimHer to "Em", $himher to "em", $HisHer to "Eir", $hisher to "eir", $HisHers to "Eirs", $hishers to "eirs", $Himself to "Emself", $himself to "emself", $plural to false>>
<</if>>
<<if $MC_gender is "cisgender male" or $MC_gender is "transgender male">> <<set $MC_starboy to "starboy"; $MC_handsome to "handsome"; $MC_boy to "boy"; $MC_guy to "guy"; $MC_guys to "guys"; $MC_asshole to "douchebag">>
<<elseif $MC_gender is "cisgender female" or $MC_gender is "transgender female">>
<<set $MC_starboy to "stargirl"; $MC_handsome to "beautiful"; $MC_boy to "girl"; $MC_guy to "girl"; $MC_guys to "girls"; $MC_asshole to "bitch">> <<else>>
<<set $MC_starboy to "starkid"; $MC_handsome to "gorgeous"; $MC_boy to "one"; $MC_guy to "one"; $MC_guys to "ones"; $MC_asshole to "asshole">> <</if>>
<</button>>
/*[[Ch 4 Loading 2]]*/<div id="centered"><<liveblock>><h1>$M_name $M_middle Whitlock-Singh</h1><</liveblock>>
<<nobr>>
<div class="choice"><<link "Male">>
<<set $M_name to "Maxwell", $M_middle to "Edmund", $M_gender to "male", $M_person to "man", $M_prince to "prince", $M_Prince to "Prince", $M_Mr to "Mr", $M_HeShe to "He", $M_heshe to "he", $M_HimHer to "Him", $M_himher to "him", $M_HisHer to "His", $M_hisher to "his", $M_HisHers to "His", $M_hishers to "his", $M_Himself to "Himself", $M_himself to "himself">>
<<update>><</link>></div>
<div class="choice"><<link "Female">>
<<set $M_name to "Maxine", $M_middle to "Edythe", $M_gender to "female", $M_person to "woman", $M_prince to "princess", $M_Prince to "Princess", $M_Mr to "Ms", $M_HeShe to "She", $M_heshe to "she", $M_HimHer to "Her", $M_himher to "her", $M_HisHer to "Her", $M_hisher to "her", $M_HisHers to "Hers", $M_hishers to "hers", $M_Himself to "Herself", $M_himself to "herself">>
<<update>><</link>></div><</nobr>>
<h2>Friendship</h2><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><<textbox "$M_friendship" "Input number">>
<h2>Romance</h2><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><<textbox "$M_romance" "Input number">>
<<liveblock>><h1>$V_name $V_middle Næsholm</h1><</liveblock>>
<<nobr>><div class="choice"><<link "Male">>
<<set $V_name to "Vance"; $V_middle to "Kasper"; $V_nickname to "Vanny"; $V_gender to "male"; $V_person to "man"; $V_Mr to "Mr"; $V_HeShe to "He"; $V_heshe to "he"; $V_HimHer to "Him"; $V_himher to "him"; $V_HisHer to "His"; $V_hisher to "his"; $V_HisHers to "His"; $V_hishers to "his"; $V_Himself to "Himself"; $V_himself to "himself">>
<<update>><</link>></div>
<div class="choice"><<link "Female">>
<<set $V_name to "Vanessa"; $V_middle to "Karina"; $V_nickname to "Nessa"; $V_gender to "female"; $V_person to "woman"; $V_Mr to "Ms"; $V_HeShe to "She"; $V_heshe to "she"; $V_HimHer to "Her"; $V_himher to "her"; $V_HisHer to "Her"; $V_hisher to "her"; $V_HisHers to "Hers"; $V_hishers to "hers"; $V_Himself to "Herself"; $V_himself to "herself">>
<<update>><</link>></div><</nobr>>
<h2>Friendship</h2><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><<textbox "$V_friendship" "Input number">>
<h2>Romance</h2><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><<textbox "$V_romance" "Input number">>
<<liveblock>><h1>$C_name $C_middle Lacroix</h1><</liveblock>>
<<nobr>><div class="choice"><<link "Male">>
<<set $C_name to "Cédric", $C_middle to "Armand", $C_Ceddy to "Ceddy", $C_gender to "male", $C_person to "man", $C_guy to "guy", $C_boy to "boy", $C_Mr to "Mr", $C_HeShe to "He", $C_heshe to "he", $C_HimHer to "Him", $C_himher to "him", $C_HisHer to "His", $C_hisher to "his", $C_HisHers to "His", $C_hishers to "his", $C_Himself to "Himself", $C_himself to "himself">>
<<update>><</link>></div>
<div class="choice"><<link "Female">>
<<set $C_name to "Céline", $C_middle to "Armelle", $C_Ceddy to "Celly", $C_gender to "female", $C_person to "woman", $C_guy to "girl", $C_boy to "girl",$C_Mr to "Ms", $C_HeShe to "She", $C_heshe to "she", $C_HimHer to "Her", $C_himher to "her", $C_HisHer to "Her", $C_hisher to "her", $C_HisHers to "Hers", $C_hishers to "hers", $C_Himself to "Herself", $C_himself to "herself">>
<<update>><</link>></div><</nobr>>
<h2>Friendship</h2><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><<textbox "$C_friendship" "Input number">>
<h2>Romance</h2><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><<textbox "$C_romance" "Input number">>
<<liveblock>><h1>$D_name $D_middle Diaconu</h1><</liveblock>>
<<nobr>><div class="choice"><<link "Male">>
<<set $D_name to "Dumitru", $D_middle to "Constantin", $D_gender to "male", $D_person to "man", $D_guy to "guy", $D_guys to "guys", $D_boyish to "boyish", $D_Mr to "Mr", $D_HeShe to "He", $D_heshe to "he", $D_HimHer to "Him", $D_himher to "him", $D_HisHer to "His", $D_hisher to "his", $D_HisHers to "His", $D_hishers to "his", $D_Himself to "Himself", $D_himself to "himself">>
<<update>><</link>></div>
<div class="choice"><<link "Female">>
<<set $D_name to "Dumitra", $D_middle to "Constantina", $D_gender to "female", $D_person to "woman", $D_guy to "girl", $D_guys to "girls", $D_boyish to "girlish", $D_Mr to "Ms", $D_HeShe to "She", $D_heshe to "she", $D_HimHer to "Her", $D_himher to "her", $D_HisHer to "Her", $D_hisher to "her", $D_HisHers to "Hers", $D_hishers to "hers", $D_Himself to "Herself", $D_himself to "herself">>
<<update>><</link>></div><</nobr>>
<h2>Friendship</h2><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><<textbox "$D_friendship" "Input number">>
<h2>Romance</h2><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><<textbox "$D_romance" "Input number">>
<<liveblock>><h1>$W_name $W_middle Ostendorf</h1><</liveblock>>
<<nobr>><div class="choice"><<link "Male">>
<<set $W_name to "Wilhelm", $W_middle to "Johann", $W_nickname to "Billy", $W_Billy to "Billy", $W_Will to "Will", $W_gender to "male", $W_person to "man", $W_guy to "guy", $W_boy to "boy", $W_son to "son", $W_nephew to "nephew", $W_Mr to "Mr", $W_HeShe to "He", $W_heshe to "he", $W_HimHer to "Him", $W_himher to "him", $W_HisHer to "His", $W_hisher to "his", $W_HisHers to "His", $W_hishers to "his", $W_Himself to "Himself", $W_himself to "himself">>
<<update>><</link>></div>
<div class="choice"><<link "Female">>
<<set $W_name to "Wilhelmine", $W_middle to "Johanna", $W_nickname to "Billie", $W_Billy to "Billie", $W_Will to "Mina", $W_gender to "female", $W_person to "woman", $W_guy to "girl", $W_boy to "girl", $W_son to "daughter", $W_nephew to "niece", $W_Mr to "Ms", $W_HeShe to "She", $W_heshe to "she", $W_HimHer to "Her", $W_himher to "her", $W_HisHer to "Her", $W_hisher to "her", $W_HisHers to "Hers", $W_hishers to "hers", $W_Himself to "Herself", $W_himself to "herself">>
<<update>><</link>></div><</nobr>>
<h2>Friendship</h2><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><<textbox "$W_friendship" "Input number">>
<h2>Romance</h2><<nobr>>
<</nobr>><<textbox "$W_romance" "Input number">>
<div id="centered">[[If you went to the formal dinner in Chapter 3, click here|Ch 4.1.1]]
[[If you went to the party in Chapter 3, click here|Ch 4.2.1]]</div>