itscurtains | Week Three

Entry tags:

act 3,
week 3

Week Three

[Last week, some shit went down! Salieri's scene went off without a hitch, but the good mood didn't last. The first motive was a bit of a doozy, and yet it didn't even have anything to do with the eventual accidental death of Mumble Happyfeet! At least Sissi was already pretty much dating Death anyway, right? She's probably fine, wherever she is.

This week, new menus have been posted in the cafeteria. But, more importantly, it seems that other new information has emerged. Everyone wakes on Sunday with some new memories - or are they old ones? - floating around in their heads. Maybe there was something to your discussions of time travel after all. Maybe there was someting to the Wizard's knowledge of the future.

Regardless, you're still stuck in here. At least there's some new places to explore this week. Maybe you'll find something helpful.]

Sunday | Monday | Tuesday | Wednesday | Thursday

(( Be sure to submit your memory regains and your AC for this week! Hester's office hours and the merch booth also remain available! ))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Yeah. It felt... real. [He swallows.] That's not usually how I dream.

[His dreams are usually nightmares, but uh. He's not gonna just. Say that.]

[ She tries to swallow down some uncertainty. ]

How long was it? I mean— like...dreams can feel a long time, but— [ ... ] It...felt like I was dreaming for months.

It felt like... forever? But I think... it must've been three months, because it was summer. Just. All of summer.

[You ever just break up with your boyfriend and get real suicidal depressive about it?]

[ Peregrine quietly recounts: ] There was Christmas...and New Years'... and like... I think it was almost my birthday?

[ She remembers everything going so smoothly. She remembers talking with Brett, who promised to be back in time. ]

I almost forgot...when I woke up, like, that I was here.

Yeah. I... woke up feeling like I was still in that space. [Then, hesitantly:] Your birthday? When's that?

[Maybe he should ask her about the dream, but he kinda doesn't want to? It feels like he should be focusing on, like, being a good friend to her rather than maybe... dragging out the trauma.]

[ This seems like a safer conversation than the dreams. The dreams are what, presumably, lead him to the scene shop where he proceeded to stare longingly at anything with a point.

However safe it seems, she doesn’t let go of his arm, not as she leads him past down the halls, past the gym. ]

February 8th. You?

[Yeah, about that—]

... June 30th. [A beat.] I kind of thought that nobody would be home, because they never celebrate my birthday anyway? So I slit my wrists in the bathtub. Happy birthday to me and all. Anyway, Cynthia came home from her book club or whatever and found me.

[He shrugs. So anyway that's the context of "I woke up feeling like I was still in that space."]

[ Oh well this fucking backfired.

Peregrine stops in her tracks, grip on Connor's elbow tightening. There's something so visceral in her mind, so visceral and so incredibly irrational, that if she lets him go, he'll disappear. So she doesn't, and instead she looks at him, half-horrified half-shocked. ]

Connor...

[ Which one? Which wrist was it? Both? She almost asks, but instead she instinctively places her other hand on the closest one. Would it scar? Should she check? No. No that'd be a mistake. Peregrine's never had to navigate this before, and yet even she knows that. ]

We shouldn't... Let's go somewhere private. Okay?

[ Where? They share dorms, is anywhere here really private? They stand in front of the Principal's Office as she wracks her brain for somewhere to go. ]

[If I can somehow keep them thinking of me
and make me more than an abandoned memory—]

I... sure, Per.

[He doesn't actually move to go anyway, because Peregrine said they were going somewhere and he's interpreted it as she's going to take him somewhere. Instead, he shifts his wrist around in her hand to lace their fingers together. That just... feels right. The contact is grounding.]

[ Not even a single argument. In fact, he's putting himself quite literally in her hands. It's, in some way, a lot of responsibility. A lot of...trust.

What does she do with that?

Apparently the answer is look at the Principal's Office door, gently pull Connor along, and barge right in, Hester be damned. ]

Alright, out, we need the room, Hester!!

[ This is, for the record, the first time Peregrine's even been in her office.

[Hester startles at the sudden intrusion, her fingers slamming down on the keys of her little pink laptop. She flashes the two of them an annoyed frown.]

Just because you don't like me doesn't mean you can steal my office, Peregrine- [ She glances at Connor and immediately her annoyance fades to concern.] Is something wrong with Connor?

[As a general note, the office has a surprisingly homey feel for a school office.]

Lovely of you to care— [ No. No, this is about Connor and snapping at Hester isn't going to help. ] Yes. There is. So we need your office. There's nowhere else that's remotely private here.

[ Peregrine does not sound like she'll take no for an answer. She also doesn't seem to be eager to let go of Connor's hand. ]

I mean, it's just—it's not that big of a deal, we don't have to bother Hester about it...

[His voice gets quieter as he speaks, as his shoulders hunch further. He's trying to make himself take up as little space as possible, which is, uh. Difficult when you're six feet tall.]

[Her first instinct is to, of course, argue with Peregrine. Of course they have privacy! They have their rooms- no wait, they have roommates. There's the nurse's office- eh, not entirely. Teacher's lounge...? No.]

I don't think the Wizard would like it if- [She purses her lips, weighing the pros and cons of letting people just be in her office without her there. The biggest con is, of course, how the Wizard would feel about it. If he'd be upset for giving them such unbridled access or if he'd be proud of her for giving them a space to be comfortable in.

After a long moment of mulling it over she sighs and closes her laptop, gathering it in her arms as she rises from her chair.]

No, Connor, it's okay. I can finish what I'm doing in the other room. It's my job to give you all what you need and if that thing is privacy I can do that. [There are the "bad kid chairs" facing her desk that look reasonably comfortable along with a plate of sugar cookies and a bright green ceramic teapot with matching cups sitting on the far corner of her desk.] Make yourselves comfortable.

[ Peregrine stays glaring at Hester, the whole time. Particularly when she mentions the Wizard. Who cares what the Wizard thinks? Who cares about that bastard who kidnapped him? Is she really trying to express that to them?

But for once she swallows down her anger. She has to think rationally about this. Like— like with the bear. Hester's the bear— no. No, this whole...situation is the bear. Connor's memories. So she just has to make herself bigger. ]

Thank you. [ She doesn't sound too thankful, though. She simply pulls Connor over to the chairs. ] Come on. Just sit with me for a few minutes?

You really didn't have to oust her like that.

[He sits when she tugs him over but his voice is still quiet. If Peregrine's afraid that he'll disappear if she lets go, he's doing his level best to fade into the background.]

It's just... it's just some memories.

[I'm erasing myself from the narrative—

No. No, he's right here. He's right here, and he... it's not like that. He'll. He'll just apologize to Miguel when they get out of here and everything will be fine. It's not. It's not the end of the world.]

I don't care what she thinks. [ The unspoken admission: I care about you.

She doesn't let go. She doesn't dare. ]

What're you talking about...? They're not...just some memories. [ ... ] You're upset. You should be allowed...to be upset.

I...

[God, why are you always doing this? Attention?
Are you happy now? You have my attention, Connor.
Cut it out, Connor. Just stop this attention-seeking bullshit.
He's just looking for a t t e n t i o n.

He shakes his head.]

... can't.

Connor...

[ Her other hand rests on his elbow again. For a moment, she's soft. Then— ]

Who the hell says?! You can't just force yourself to be...to be happy, it doesn't work like that...and fuck whoever does.

Everyone. It's just. It's my fault. It...

[it’s easy to change if you give it your attention
all you gotta do
is just believe you can be who you want to be—]

... I just have to try harder, is all. I just... I just...

[He looks down at his hands in his lap and takes a breath. It's shaky, wet. Like he's trying not to cry.]

[ She squeezes Connor's hand, as the other hand travels, up to his face, to touch his cheek. Fiercely— ]

Then fuck everyone. You don't deserve that.

But it's... it's my fault. I... it was selfish. I shouldn't have...

[No, I'd rather pretend I'm something better than
these broken parts.
Pretend I'm something other than
this mess that I am.
'cause then I don't have to look at it
and no one gets to look at it—
no, no one can really see.]

... shouldn't have... given in.

[He's hiccoughing in between the words, shoulders shaking. You ever just simultaneously triggered and aware you're triggered so you're trying to stop your body from Doing That™? Yeah. He's maybe going through it.]

[ Peregrine can't listen to him say this. She can't. She doesn't know the right thing to respond, but she knows what to do.

She pulls him into a hug, tight as she can. ]

Mm-mm. No. [ The hand on his cheek slides back into his hair. The other stays, fingers laced together. ] No, Connor.

[ She hopes to a god she doesn't fully believe exists that Hester doesn't come back out right now, because she's starting to cry too. ]

[Oh.

He doesn't really remember... the last time someone hugged him. It was probably Miguel, and even then it wouldn't have been like this. Miguel respected that Connor didn't really like to be touched and would mostly bump their shoulders together or lean on him. Close enough to show affection without crossing Connor's admittedly haphazard boundaries. This is something else entirely.

Connor hiccoughs again, more like a tiny sob than anything, and clings to her.]

I'm sorry. [Quiet, like a confession.] I'm sorry.

[ Fiercely, she shakes her head. With their close proximity, it means she kind of bumps their heads together. ]

I-it's okay. [ Her voice shakes with tears. ] It's okay, Connor, I—

I got you.

Week Three

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cw: suicidal ideation mentions

cw: just a straight up suicide mention

cw: suicide talk continues

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cw: larry murphy's ableism

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cw: the sincerely me school of mental health

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