Chapter Text
“...The door’s locked. Of course,” says Noelle. She smiles at you, disappointed.
Huh. You crane your neck up at the year-round Holiday light display, considering the pros and cons of climbing up and breaking a window. Nah, if Mr. Rudy found out, you’d never hear the end of it. And you don't have anything to pick locks with, either.
“D’you have a key hiding somewhere? Like, under a rock, or buried in the yard?” you ask, freshly out of cool options. You wonder how long you could dig around with your bare hands before she scolds you for acting like a wild dog.
“My mom’s really strict on keeping the house secure. Even D —” she freezes. “E-even my sister wasn’t allowed to have a copy.”
“Dang,” you say, cuz there's not much else to say about it.
Just, dang.
You and Noelle lapse into a momentary unspoken grief, and then, “You wanna walk with me to my house?”
“Sure,” Noelle nods, “Thanks, Kris.”
After squeezing through the bars of the Holiday gate, the two of you make your way back to your place. The Dreemurr residence is on the far side of town, blocks away from most of the other kids, and basically on opposite ends from the Holidays. It’s a wonder your families got so close in the first place with all the travel time. You wonder if you and Noelle would still hang out if she was from the city instead.
Hah, no way in hell. Only reason she sticks around is cuz you're a creepy friendless loser whose very presence strikes pity into the souls of the kindhearted. She's just nice.
She doesn't even like you that much.
Who would?
Your fingers itch for the cool ivory of piano keys, their delicate weight crafted just for the purpose of creating something beautiful. Music always gets your mind off these dumb idiot spirals. You can’t go to the Holidays or the hospital anymore, not without reason at least, and you always get bothered about Asriel at church, so there’s no good opportunity to play. You stuff your hands into your pockets.
You wonder how long until Noelle finds out about what happened that night. You wonder when she’ll —
“— Kris?” her voice calls out, “Are you pranking me again?”
Whoops. You didn’t even notice how much distance you covered. “No, zoned out.”
“Faha, it’s fine. I was just wondering if you had a landline I could use when we get to your place.”
“What do you need our landline for? You don’t gotta cellphone?”
She elects to ignore your questions outright. You guess her mom won’t let her have one of those either. “You had a phone this whole time?”
You stick your neck out to nod sarcastically, because duh, how else would you play Fall Blocks in class? “Uh, yeah.”
“Sooo…” she draws out, “Can I… use it? To call my mom?”
“Ohh. Nah,” you say, handing it over. She rolls her eyes in amusement.
After a few rings, you can hear the telltale chatter of Mrs. Carol on the other line. Despite being too indistinct to pick out any words, you can guess from the tone that she’s being her usual cold and curt self.
“Hi Mom, I don’t mean to bother you, but I — Kris invited me to study, s-so I’ll be out for the afternoon. If that’s all right with you? …No, Dad’s getting tested right now, so I can’t reach him.”
Some more garbage noise sounds from the speakerphone. Noelle nods a few times, then, realizing she isn’t visible, vocalizes her confirmations. Her voice loses the already small amount of confidence it has to begin with. By the time Mrs. Carol hangs up, your friend is quiet. She hands back the phone meekly.
“Still sucks?”
Noelle grimaces. “She’s not bad, just… more closed off. I think we’ve all been going through a lot, right? It makes sense that a few pleasantries might slip past.”
“They don’t slip past you,” you comment.
“That's different!” She fidgets with a piece of her hair, twisting and straightening it out between her fingers. “I mean, we handle it in different ways. Mom focuses on her job, Dad focuses on me, I focus on school and glitch hunting… Even you, Kris, you —”
She stops, sensing your apprehension. You don’t know what kind of expression you’re making, but you’re sure it’s communicating please don’t.
“A-anyway,” she blusters through, “What else can we do? The police never found a lead, let alone some smalltown kid. I’ve gone back to that forest dozens of times, but I can't find any clues. Not ones that I’d recognize, anyhow, a-and I’d say I’m pretty good at spotting that sort of thing...”
She trails off, but you don't notice, far too busy gazing off at the surrounding scenery.
The trees are bare this time of year. It’s cold but not enough to freeze over or yield snowfall, leaving only pale, gray skies and runny noses.
When you look up it’s overcast. You don’t feel it.
You don’t feel your hands. You don’t feel the piano keys.
Your eyelids grow heavy as footsteps become robotic, your mind wandering through a fog of dissociation. Noelle won’t find it; nothing is wrong; just keep your cool, be chill, be absolutely casual.
Noelle’s mouth moves frantically. She is saying words, and you certainly are hearing the noises, but the content isn’t processing. You are in a bubble.
Then it pops.
Everything is brighter suddenly. “What the fuck.”
When your senses come back to you, you realize Noelle is fawning again. “Oh my god I’m so sorry I don’t know why I just kept on TALKING when clearly you were getting upset I don’t know why I did that it’s like I couldn’t stop like I just kept going on and on and I really didn’t mean to — Ah — Did you say something?”
“She’s YOUR sister. You shouldn’t be sorry for anything. I just,” you quiet, “I miss her.”
Noelle follows suit. “Me too,” she says. “I miss everything about her, even the things I used to find annoying!
“Like, she always used to ruffle my hair when I was little. I hated it back then — I remember bursting into tears once, after I’d spent an hour learning to braid it — But now, I just wish she could do that again.”
When she looks at you, it’s hopeful, pleading, imploring. She wants to feel her sister’s presence through shared memories of times long passed. She misses her. She misses her. But you can’t speak. The silence grows strained after a few beats, and Noelle turns forward again, folding her hands to appear more composed than she is. “Fahaha… I dunno. Sorry, I didn’t mean to make things awkward again. Sorry. We can talk ab —”
“AYEEEEEEEEE!” you suddenly screech at her like a banshee, teeth bared, arms raised, and hands drooping, “RAAAAAAGHH!”
It blindsides her completely. “EEEK!” Noelle jumps about a foot into the air and swats at your arm. “KRIS!! What the heck?!”
“You were looping again,” you explain, “Spiraling.”
She places a hand on her chest. You inspect her for any more anxiety as her breathing slows and evens out to normal. “I wasn’t trying to worry you, Kris, but jeez, a little warning or something!” She laughs, a bit out of breath, “Really, I’m sorry I keep making you uncomfortable. We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to.”
“No need to apologize if you didn’t do anything,” you mumble, “I’m just kinda weird about stuff, I guess.”
“Well, maybe I like that you’re weird,” she says.
Huh. “You’re even weirder than me, then.”
She snorts and laughs again. A grin creeps its way onto your face, your eyes crinkling fondly, and for a moment, it all feels beautifully, terribly sincere.
The conversation lightens up before falling into a contented silence. With the power of time’s passage, you find yourself standing before the Dreemurr residence (sans a few Dreemurr occupants.) Noelle stands beside you patiently. You simply continue to stare at it.
“...Shit,” you say.
“What's wrong, Kris?”
What a loaded fucking question. There’s always something wrong, at least generally — Like, the world isn’t all peaches and rainbows, Noelle. For one, there’s this stupid ass worksheet you got assigned on the history of human-monster relations. Monster history by itself would be fine, but you don’t wanna read about some dumb human garbage. What’s even the point? You don't see any other humans in this town, anyway.
For two, your brother is always going out with his friends now that he can drive, and it’s kind of pissing you off. He never invites you. Once, you followed him out to where he parked to see what they were all up to, and it turns out they were smoking on the park benches! Smoking weed! And they didn’t invite you!! Messed up.
For three, the night that you can’t talk about looms over you like a darkened lamppost. You can’t talk to anyone about it, not even your mom. Not even your best friends. You miss Dess.
For four, your parents got divorced, so now things are weird. You don’t like to think about it too much, even when it’s just you alone with your own thoughts. You immediately move on to the next point.
For five, the front of the house is a resting face, roof slanting in relaxation, not minding any of your conundrums. You hate this house, sometimes. It’s too desaturated. Too lived-in. You don’t like all of the memories that stain and wear against its facade. If you were to look closely at the underside of the awning, you’d see chipped paint from where you tried spraying the hose at max pressure to literally raise the roof. That’d be a funny memory, a good one even, but with everything that’s been going on lately it’s all been blending together in a gross, mushy sludge.
A lot of things are wrong, but most glaringly of all is that —
“The lights are off.”
“Does that mean…” Noelle trails off.
“Yeah,” you say, kicking the door and smudging some dirt from your sneaker. You try the doorknob, just to be safe, and it’s about as locked as you had expected. “My mom didn't even tell me she was gonna be out. I should’ve called. Dang it.”
“O-oh.”
“And she won’t give me a key, either, since she had to get the locks changed once cuz of me.” You press your forehead against the glass, smushing your nose and mouth so it leaves a gross-looking mask of condensation. “Can we go see your dad?”
She shakes her head, “They're doing tests today. Do you think your mom’s at choir practice?”
“I’unno, but I don't wanna go to church.”
“Hm,” Noelle says.
“Hm,” you agree.
“Hm hm hm, ho ho ho,” she replies, agreeing to your agreement. You snicker.
The two of you end up wandering aimlessly, knocking on random doors and running away before anyone can answer. Well, that's what you do. Noelle stands behind you, shaking your shoulders and whispering about how bad of an idea it is. She has fun, though, you think.
The last house you approach is Berdly’s. Noelle’s back goes ramrod, momentarily resembling the trees in her yard.
“Oh, no,” she says, shaking her head, “Kris, I know you like your pranks, but I really think it’s a bad idea this time. I don’t want to upset Berdly. He’ll blow up if we show up unannounced and mess with his ‘perfect schedule.’”
“You should hide, then,” you respond. “That way he’ll only get mad at me.”
“Kris, I’m serious. When we were studying, he told me he had everything planned to the minute.”
“So am I,” you insist. “We’re… friends, yeah? We should at least treat him like one. And I treat my friends like pranking victims.”
Noelle splutters a bit but ultimately ducks behind some nearby shrubbery. You make quick strides toward the door with all the confidence of a professional prankster. The perfect crime is about to transpire, and not a single person will ever be the wiser (Absolute fire.)
Just as you’re about to knock on his door, you hear the lock click open and jump out of the way. Out walks Berdly, trash bag in hand, chirping a chiptune to himself. He doesn’t notice you hugging the wall. From the bushes a few feet away, Noelle makes fearful eye contact with you. You give her a cool thumbs up, the universal sign for don’t worry, I got this.
He spots you right after disposing of the trash.
“Kris!” Berdly exclaims, dusting off his wings. “Funny seeing you in my esophagus of the suburbs. What brings you to my abode?”
A small squeak sounds from the shrubs, a frantic, “Uhh, umm, well, you see…” but it is too quiet to be heard by anyone but the speaker.
“Me and Noelle were gonna break in and steal your furniture,” you say casually.
The bird gasps, melodramatically clutching his pearls. “You wouldn’t..!”
“T-that's not true!” Noelle says, jumping out from her hiding spot and scaring the shit out of Berdly. “Ah — Sorry! But we got locked out of our houses and decided to wander around town for a while. That's all.”
He squints at her. “Is that so? You leave me no choice, then. It seems I must generously offer my nest to you two.”
What. What? You look to Noelle for guidance, using all your might to beam the word “what” into her mind. She nods at you once, so slight as if it didn’t happen at all, and you’re pretty sure you’re pickin’ up what she’s putting down.
“Nah, we’re good.”
…Is what you would have said, but Noelle elbows you in the gut, swiftly knocking the wind out of your sails. Instead, what comes out is, “N — Oughf… What the shit, Noelle!”
“Thanks, Berdly! I hope we aren’t intruding on your schedule,” Noelle smiles innocently at the boy, who just witnessed his friend double over in pain. “We really appreciate it.”
It takes a second for him to pay attention to what she’s saying. “O-of course, my dear friend! It’s the least I can offer, after all.” He points his finger up, as if struck by an epiphany. “Perhaps we could even have… a group… study session..?”
You stay silent this time. You thought you were the goddamn master of nonverbal communication, but that elbow said otherwise. One second she doesn’t wanna mess with the Berd, and the next she’s jumping to spend an afternoon with him? Still crossing your arms, you raise your eyebrows and wait for Noelle’s input.
“If that’s what you want, Berdly, we’d be happy to study with you!”
It’s settled then. Nerdfest will commence in T-minus not nearly enough time.
He preens. “Wonderful! Follow me, fellow gamers.”
Once Berdly’s back is turned, you stage-whisper to Noelle. “Girl, what is your deal? Do I have to protect my vitals around you?”
“Sorry, but I changed my mind, Kris. I think… I think Berdly needs some company. He’d never ask for something outright,” she reasons, “So if he’s inviting us in, that has to mean he wants us over! Right?”
What the hell is she asking you for?
“I don’t fucking know,” you hiss. You shrug at her, hands splayed, eyes wide, to emphasize the sentiment. She chuckles nervously.
“Welcome to my MTV crib! That’s the ‘Monster Television’ intro, if you weren’t aware.” Berdly gestures around a modestly-sized, one-story house with an open floor plan. “Please remove shoes and wipe all talons and/or hooves before we continue with the tour.”
After the three of you do either one of those (Berdly uses baby wipes on his feet? Hello?) you take in the place. It’s… normal? The living room, kitchen, and dining room are all one area separated by strategically-placed furniture, plants, and wooden dividers. Very labyrinthine. A hallway in the far corner hints at doors unknown, and — Oh, hell yes, there is no way you’re not rooting around for clues later! If Berdly doesn’t want all his secrets to get found out, why would he invite the most renowned rogue in Hometown? Doesn’t add up.
“And over here is…” he pauses, throwing open the first door down the hall. “My epic gamer pad! Behold!”
You and Noelle step inside, your socks padding across short, beige carpet. It’s about what you’d expect; the “epic gamer pad,” as he so lovingly named it, is a moderately-sized, chaotically-organized bedroom. A couple video game posters hang above Berdly’s desk, and there’s a sliding closet taking up, like, an entire wall. The doors have mirrors, so looking at it from the right angle makes the room appear larger than it is. Neat.
You run a hand across the wall, zoning out and existing in the texture. It makes the pads of your fingers feel like paws for a second. Oh, what could have been… What could be…
Okay, stop doing that. You’re in someone else’s house.
You’d monologue about the shit in his room — How his ceiling is lined with LED strips, though with the daylight currently streaming in, there isn’t much use for them — How the bedsheets match his pillowcases, curtains, and desk lamp — How he has a nerdy-ass corkboard chock-full of fanart he probably printed out at the Librarby — But apparently he’s been talking this whole time, and your ears finally start translating nerd speak into English.
“Now, some frequently asked questions may include: Berdly, did you build your PC yourself? And to that, I’d say, yes, yes I did.” Just a hunch, but you don’t think Noelle asked anything. Berdly continues on unprompted, “You’ll notice the mid-tower case decals share the same color scheme as the keycaps. I added those myself, too. It was a grueling process, given the feather fingers and all, but such setbacks are chicksplay to someone of my caliber. Also, not to brag, but I think it looks pretty cute.”
“It does! I like it,” says Noelle. “Gosh, and here I thought I was weird for color-coordinating my room! We’re birds of a feather.”
The bird falters. “Uh — Right we are! Yes, of course, dear Noelle! You can be an honorary bird.”
You roll your eyes. “What’s up there?” You point at the topmost shelf, which, from your respectable height, appears empty.
“Yet another frequently asked question! I’ll have you know that is where I keep my priceless keepsakes. They are objects of extreme sentimental value, so I must humbly ask that you do not — Hey, hey, hey, Kris —”
By this point you’ve climbed onto the foot of his bed to get a better look at his “priceless keepsakes.” There’s a plastic crown, an old photo book, a wrapped candy cane, a shiny pebble, and a crumpled airplane folded from some wide-ruled notebook paper. You think you threw those last two at him at some point.
“Aww, you like us,” you coo down at him mockingly. He flaps his wings at you.
“Get down from there, you imbecile!” Berdly yells, “You rapscallion! Trespasser! Rambunctious beast!!”
You jump on his bed a couple times and pretend to look around. “Did someone say something just now? I swear I heard a squeaky little baby voi — Shit!”
Berdly trips you with the ultimate double leg takedown maneuver, causing the both of you to fall into a pile of his pillows and plushies. “Woah, that was crazy,” you breathe out, “It’s like I fell… completely of my own accord. Huh. Must have been the wind or something.”
“Your taunts have no effect on me, villain,” he huffs, yet you get a faceful of his feathers as he tries to shut your mouth. “Silence, at once!”
“Ths hmhm tchmphm?”
“I can’t hear you over my superior wings!” He grins. You lick his hands. Wings. Whatever. “AGH! KRIS!! GROSS!!!”
As he’s attempting to wipe your spit back on your sweater, the two of you are interrupted by a fit of snorts and giggles. You both turn to the source of the outburst.
“Fahaha, gosh, get a room!” Noelle laughs, hand politely covering her mouth. “You sound like — Like — Rasenjo and Takamori!”
Berdly smirks as if he knows exactly what she’s talking about. “I know exactly what you’re talking about,” he lies.
“Like hell you do,” you snipe, hopping off the bed, “The fuck is a Rasenjo?”
If Noelle were anymore Christmas-y, she’d be lit up like a tree. “You don’t know it? I’m on season four right now, and — Berdly, can we use your computer? You’ve got to watch it, it’s so cool. I can’t spoil anything, but you two bicker just like the two main guys,” Noelle says, “Er, characters! Two main characters! I can pull up the anime right now…”
The three of you crowd around Berdly’s monitor as Noelle clicks onto an extraordinarily shady-looking site. It appears to be a digital archive of various pirated human cartoons, ranging from cutesy to edgy, with names like “Book That Kills You,” “Power Baby,” “Mew Mew Kissy Cutie,” and, of course, the mildly anticipated “Rasenjo.” An energetic young boy clad in an orange jumpsuit strikes an action pose on the cover. It looks…
“Interesting,” Berdly states, “I’ve never seen a human show before. No offense, Kris.”
“Hm,” you say, followed by nothing else.
Noelle plays the first episode. You watch it.
You can’t stop watching.
You can’t take your eyes off the screen.
There’s just… so much. There’s so much.
Three to seven episodes later, you glance over at the others. Noelle makes eye contact with you and flinches; it seems she was gauging audience engagement, as one does when showing off a treasured show to their companions. Alas, caught in the act. How embarrassing for her. You bare your teeth at her for shits and giggles.
Berdly’s expression is completely and utterly focused. You stare at him for maybe a minute, and you don’t think he blinks once (unless he was just blinking at the exact same time that you were blinking.) It makes your stomach churn with an indescribable… dread.
“I think…” he mutters under his breath, “I’m going to make this my personality now.”
Ahh. There it is. You were handed an omen from the universe. Is this karmic retribution for the ring-wrong-runs?
You and Noelle share a look of total despair, with Noelle’s pinched expression exuding pain on every conceivable level, and yours being nigh identical to your resting face. She can sense the change in vibe, though.
The squeak of hinges alert you three to the entrance, where two monsters hang in the doorway. First is a taller man with graying plumage and a button-up with sleeves rolled to his elbows, and second is a stout, younger bluebird woman dressed in fashion jewelry.
“Oh, hey Berd!” says the man, "You didn’t tell us you were having friends over.”
The woman smiles politely, and she reminds you more of a barista than a host. She offers a little wave. “Hi, there. Nice to meet you!”
Despite their friendly demeanor, Berdly seems afraid. His feathers tremble, and his voice wobbles ever-so-slightly. “Hi, Guardian! Mother! I-I wasn’t sure when you’d be back, and my classmates were both locked out of their respective houses, so I thought it’d be alright if I let them inside for a bit,” he explains, “I was in the middle of completing my daily tasks, but this, ah, unforeseen quicktime event popped up and resulted in a branching schedule! I will get to completing them right now, actually!”
“No worries, bud,” says the monster who is presumably Berdly’s dad, “It’s good to see you having fun with your friends.”
“Oh?”
“Just, uh — Why don’t you come speak with us really quick?”
He freezes. His guardian raises his eyebrows — A silent expectation. Berdly’s beak moves to form the words “got it,” though you don’t think he actually says them. Weird. The door closes soundlessly, maintaining the tension of the eerie exchange, and the cage and girl are left birdless yet again.
You shiver involuntarily.
“Should we…?” Noelle starts to say, but you’re already tip-toeing to eavesdrop on the conversation outside. With your ears to the door, muffled gibberish translates smoothly into guessable words and phrases. Score. You two might actually get to learn about Berdly’s parents today.
“…In trouble?” Is what you catch once you focus. They must be farther down the hallway, by the yet-to-be-explored doors.
“A little bit, yeah!" That voice belongs to his guardian, you think. "Berd, what have we said about family rules?”
“That 'we’re a team that has to work together,'” Berdly recites.
“Exactly. You can’t just let people in without telling us. You don’t pay rent —“
“You don’t even have a job," his mother cuts in.
“This is our house as much as it is yours. Don’t you think we deserve a little more respect than that? Because you’re not showing it by having guests over behind our backs.”
“This house doesn’t belong to any of us,” Berdly points out, “It’s a rental.”
"Even more reason to be respectful of the space! I'm the one paying for us all to live here, Berd. You could have at least texted to let us know," he says. "It shows you don't care.”
The woman huffs. "It's fucking inconsiderate, is what it is. Angel above, I should —"
"Babe, I got this. Follow me," the man says, and… that's all you can get before the confrontation peters off into unintelligible grumblings and distant footsteps.
Noelle raises her eyebrows at you, ear and hand to the door. Your mouth is a straight line that leaves no room for conversation.
"…" She flicks her eyes to the window, then back to you.
"…" You reply. Then, "…Oh shit..!"
Both of you scramble back like crabs as the door creaks open. Caught in the act, part two. Sequels are rarely as good as the original.
"What the — You know what, I don't even care what you were up to," says Berdly, "My parents said you can stay as long as you need, but you have to call your parents or whoever to let them know what's going on."
"Kris, I think we should call your —"
"I know. Elle," you tack on belatedly.
Your mom picks up after the second ring to tell you she's on her way. Berdly's parents (Guardians? Other housemates?) can be heard faintly in the next room over, heatedly debating something you definitely should not be listening in on if you want to preserve even a modicum of Berdly's dignity. You decide not to; you've heard enough of them for an eternity.
…But god, no wonder Berdly has such a stick up his ass. His parents have entire branches.
When it ticks nearer to Mom's estimated time of arrival, Berdly walks the two of you back to his front porch. "I assume I'll be seeing you at school tomorrow, so this isn't entirely necessary, but…"
He looks off to the side, scratching his neck like Takamori did after he lost that practice battle against Rasenjo in episode three. If he were an anime character, you think there'd be pink blush lines on his face. Hah, cute.
Wait.
Dorky, you mean.
He's dorky and annoying and — Fun to mess with???
Never mind. Stop thinking about that.
"It was nice. Hanging out," Berdly says, "…Even if we didn't get around to studying."
"Yeah, man," you find yourself saying, "It was fun."
Noelle tries to hide her surprise, adding, "Kris is right! You were a great host, Berdly. Thanks for letting us use your computer."
"Anytime, my companions. Ah — It seems your chariot awaits!" As promised, your reliable old family car pulls up to the curb. Berdly makes a shooing gesture with his wings. "Don't keep Ms. Toriel, now. Off with you!"
"Bye, Berdly! See you tomorrow," says Noelle.
"See ya," you mumble, waving shyly now that your mom is here.
Once you're on the road, Mom glances at you from the rearview mirror. "That was quite gracious of Berdly, to host the two of you on such short notice."
"Yeah," you say.
"He seems to have grown since I last had him in my classroom. His confidence has boosted as well."
"Mhm."
"I wonder if, perhaps," she says slyly, "It has anything to do with all the new friends he's been making?"
You don't say anything to that. Neither does Noelle.
A small, private smile creeps up on your face.