Archive of Our Own

It starts, as most of Noelle’s worst ideas do, with someone else opening their mouth first.

“You mean you’ve never even been on a date?” Berdly exclaims, his voice echoing loud enough through the library that a lady in the nonfiction section flinches.

Noelle shrinks down in her chair. She’s already regretting her decision to show up today, and they haven’t even finished outlining the first slide of their group presentation for tomorrow. She clicks aimlessly though random PowerPoint templates, hoping the bright colors and funny pictures would be enough to tune out Berdly’s incessant pestering.

They aren’t. 

“I mean—what?!” He gestures wildly, waving around his mechanical pencil. “Noelle, you’re about to be eighteen! People get married at this age, you know?”. Berdly pauses for a second, then reaches for her shoulder to forcibly turn her away from the screen. “What have you been doing all this time!?”

Noelle blinks at him. “Um… I’ve been busy? With school?”

Berdly lets out a dramatic gasp and flops down onto the table. “That’s tragic. Completely tragic. Don’t worry though—this happens. Some people are just late bloomers. I’m sure once you hit your glow-up, the suitors will come flying in.”

She starts to protest, then stops herself. It’s not worth it. The library’s mostly empty—just them and Kris hunched over a nearby desk—and she’s already certain they’re going to get kicked out for noise. Again. Which means either she pulls an all-nighter to finish her slides at home or flunks the assignment. And knowing her mom, who’s been extra attentive lately, especially about where she goes and who she’s with, the first option’s the most likely.

It’s painful, but Berdly isn’t wrong. It is kind of tragic. “Of course,” he says, puffing out his chest, “I’ve already moved past that phase. Had quite a few romantic pursuits this semester alone. Pro-gamers are very in right now.”

“You mean when Jockington catfished you for free Nitro?”

“That was sexy roleplay,” he responds, without a hint of shame. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Across from them, Kris—who had long since abandoned any illusion of contributing to the project—snickers into the pages of their notebook. Noelle doesn’t even need to look to know the only thing they’ve written down in the last twenty minutes is that stupid doodle of a trench coat-wearing lizard wielding finger guns they’ve sketched in every bathroom stall at school. 

Her patience finally snaps. She pushes her chair back, the legs scraping against the floor as a few loose papers rustle off the edge of the table. “Well, it’s not like you’ve dated anyone either!”

Kris doesn’t respond immediately. They rest their chin in one hand, lazily chewing the end of their pencil, eyes hooded in that carefully detached way that always makes it impossible to tell if they’re about to say something insightful or dumb on purpose. Probably both. Noelle can feel the silence stretch, her outburst hanging there in the air, and she instantly regrets giving them an opening to take the piss at her. 

“I’m seeing someone,” Next to her, Berdly chokes on his own spit.

“What? How!?”

They shrug without lifting their head, flipping to a new page as if they hadn’t just upended the entire conversation. A faint smile curves at the corner of their mouth. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Kris murmurs, already back to sketching. Of course, not before baring a toothy grin directly at Noelle. 

She huffs and leans across the table before she can stop herself. It’s not fair. Kris spends most of their time pretending they don’t care about anything, and suddenly they’re out here claiming to have a mystery relationship like it’s no big deal? Her brain demands answers. Her pride, unfortunately, tells her it's better to force her lips shut. The scowl on her face still gives her away. 

“If it bothers you that much,” Kris starts, “Just ask someone out.”

“I beg your pardon?”

They flip to a new page on their notebook and grab a pen from their backpack, then unscrew the cap with their teeth. “Exposure therapy. Works wonders.”

“I can’t do that,” Noelle hisses. “What if they say yes?”

“Then you’re dating them. That’s literally the point.”

Before Noelle can argue, Berdly leans in slowly, like he’s about to deliver the secret to life itself. He laces his fingers together under his chin.

“My dear, sweet, tragically inexperienced Noelle—”

“Berdly.”

“—dating is a battlefield,” he continues, unfazed. “You don’t charge in expecting to win the war on your first mission.”

He pauses dramatically, then adds in a quieter tone, “Also, of course Kris has someone. Have you seen the way they flirt?”

Noelle slams her hand on the table. “That’s not flirting—It’s borderline harassment!”

Kris raises a brow without looking up “Flatter me further, why don't you.”

“I wasn’t complimenting you, you—”

The sharp hiss of a shush cuts through the library, halting Noelle mid-retort. She freezes, cheeks burning as the librarian glares at them over the rim of her glasses. With a muttered apology, she sinks back into her seat, slouching until her head hits the chair.

“As I was saying,” he continues, lowering his voice, “What you need is a warm-up round. Someone low-stakes. Ideally someone who doesn’t take dating too seriously and won't be devastated when you inevitably move on.”

“ Easy, you mean.”

“Exactly!” Berdly points at them like they’ve passed some sort of test. “Think of it as your personal training arc. Every great heroine has one.”

Noelle lets out a muffled groan into her palms. Her fingers slide down her face in defeat as she forces herself to look forward, blinking at the blinding white of the shared PowerPoint slide wishing she could just be absorbed by it. This is insane. The fact that she’s even entertaining this nonsense is proof that she’s been pushed to her limit. Maybe the pressure's finally cooked her brain.

Across the table, Kris glances at their wristwatch, then sighs. “Dude, can we actually start working now? I’ve got a date at six.”

“Of course you do.” Noelle mumbles under her breath.

Berdly claps his hands once and announces, “Right! Back to the thesis statement. I have some revolutionary ideas about our transition slides.”

Noelle doesn’t have the energy to stop him. She watches, hollow-eyed, as he pulls up twelve variations of star wipes, each one worse than the last.

It’s hours later, but Noelle’s brain still won’t shut up.

The library is long behind her. She’s in bed, pajamas on, lights off, blanket pulled up to her chin in a futile attempt to trap herself in the safe, sleepable realm of not thinking. But her brain has other plans. Loud ones.

You need experience points , Berdly had said. Start small. Someone low-stakes.

And, of course, Kris, with their annoying dead-eyed wisdom and doodles of funny pictures had only made it worse by agreeing .

Ask someone out. Like that’s a normal thing she could do.

Noelle rolls onto her side with a defeated sigh. Her alarm clock glows 11:48 PM, red and accusatory. Her pillow feels too warm. She kicks her blanket off, only to immediately regret it and yank it back up.

She doesn’t even want to date someone. That’s the part that bothers her. It’s not about romance, not really. It’s the idea of it. The thought of walking up to someone, saying the words out loud. Of practicing something that always felt theoretical—an elective she never signed up for.

The problem is: she keeps thinking about it. Not dating, exactly, but asking someone to date her . The logistics of it. Who would even qualify as low-stakes?

Berdly’s off the table. Obviously. He’d never let her live it down. He’d start every future conversation with “Ah yes, my ex Noelle…” and then go on a ten-minute tangent about how she wept at his feet, begging for another chance before he kicked her out of his house. 

Kris is technically dating someone already. Supposedly. Noelle can only hope they weren’t lying just to bait her into doing something she’ll absolutely regret later. It would be very them , frankly. Drop a vague truth bomb and watch the fallout like it’s performance art. 

Not that it matters much anyway. Hometown’s dating pool is basically a glorified puddle. Everyone their age has known each other since they were in diapers—some even literally . Trying to date anyone from here feels weird by default. There’s too much history. Too many embarrassing memories of bad Halloween costumes and ugly haircuts.

No, if she’s going to do this, it has to be with someone… separate. Slightly outside the ecosystem. Someone she can probably (and preferably) never talk to again after the whole deal is over.

Someone who doesn’t know anything about her.

Someone like—

The new girl

She sits up a little. That could work. 

Susie isn’t exactly new, not anymore, but she still feels distant from everyone else. Not in the way transfer students usually are, with their polite introductions and lonely lunch periods. No, Susie had arrived with a reputation already attached—rumors about her family, pink detention slips and a nasty grin that makes people step aside before she even opens her mouth. 

Noelle lies back against her pillow, staring at the ceiling fan spinning above her. The blades creak faintly. Susie probably doesn’t even remember her name. They’ve only shared a handful of classes, and most of those involved very little talking. She’s pretty sure the only time Susie has directly acknowledged her was during that awkward group lab where she volunteered to cut open the dead frog instead of Noelle, who was too busy dry heaving on a nearby trash can.

Still. She remembers the little things. The way Susie slouches in her chair and makes every head turn when she walks by. The way she chews on pen caps when she’s concentrating or hides pieces of chalk in her pocket when she thinks Alphys isn’t looking. The way she laughs—loud, real, but most importantly, she’s so…unapologetically herself. 

Also, she doesn't really talk to anyone besides Kris. That’s low-stakes, right?

And if it goes well…

Noelle presses the heels of her palms into her eyes. If it goes well, maybe she learns something. Gets better at this. Gets to feel brave for once in her life.

And if it doesn’t—

She exhales, sharp through her nose.

Oh. They’re nothing alike. Susie didn’t even try to fit in during her first day. Noelle, on the other hand, has spent her entire life twisting herself into shapes she thought would be easier to like. Susie’s loud where she’s careful. Direct where she’s awkward. Fire where she’s ice.  

She groans again and flops onto her stomach, face buried in her pillow. This is stupid. So, so stupid.

And yet, when her alarm goes off the next morning, there’s only one thought echoing in her head, louder than all the others:

You should ask Susie out.

Which is definitely the worst idea she's had all week.

It’s Monday morning, and Kris is already setting up the presentation on the teacher’s computer when Susie walks in—late, as usual. Her boots hit the tile with heavy steps, her jacket half-zipped and a mop of messy hair on top of her head.

Noelle doesn’t look at her, or at least tries her best not to. She’s seated near the front, back straight, cue cards resting neatly in her lap. Her hands, though folded with practiced grace, are tight at the knuckles. Even though public speaking isn’t one of her strongest skills, she knows she’s got nothing to worry about. History is her favourite subject, and she’s been waiting for a chance to nerd out about the origins of the prophecy to literally any monster who’d listen. Still, Susie’s sudden entrance has started to make her feel like there are ants crawling all over her skin.

Susie hasn’t moved. Her legs are sprawled under the desk, one arm hooked lazily over the back of her chair. She’s staring at the front of the room, but her mind seems to be somewhere far away. 

Huh. Pensative is a good look on her. But that doesn’t mean anything. It really doesn’t because Noelle isn’t into Susie. Really.

Holidays are good at routines. They’re responsible. Sensible. Falling for someone who breaks rules for sport is the opposite of that. Susie isn’t responsible by any means, and for some reason she never has a pencil. She doesn't study, cheats during tests, and once got suspended for throwing a calculator across the room during math. She's not what Noelle needs. Not even close.

When their presentation is done, Alphys calls Susie’s name once. Then again. The third time, Susie wakes with a start and mumbles something incoherent. She wipes her chin on her sleeve while Kris doubles over laughing at Alphys’s outraged expression. 

Alphys scolds her, but Susie only shrugs, then lets out a hoarse laugh that lights up the room like a firecracker.

Noelle’s face warms before she can do anything about it.

On Wednesday, she is no closer to making a decision than she was two days ago. Her sandwich is falling apart in her hands, the bread gone soft and the lettuce curled at the edges, but she keeps eating it anyway. Across from her, Berdly seems to have forgotten everything regarding their conversation at the library, and instead rambles about some theory about how the game he’s currently playing has got a secret weird ending. Or something. She nods every few sentences, though she’s barely processing the words.

Her tray remains mostly untouched. The mashed potatoes have cooled into a stiff, unappetizing shape, pressed to the corners of the plastic like they’re trying to escape the chicken nuggets. Noelle scrapes at the edge with her fork but doesn’t lift it to her mouth.

Across the room, Susie is standing at the vending machines.

There’s nothing unusual about the sight. Noelle has seen her there countless times before, usually on the hunt for the most aggressively flavored chip available. But today there’s a particular aura around her. She’s hunched forward slightly, head tilted in thought.

Noelle slides her eyes back to her tray and rests her cheek on one hand. Here’s the deal—It only took one midnight revelation for her brain to start to reroute every thought straight to Susie against her will. It’s infuriating. She should be over this by now, and it’s all Berdly’s fault. Now, instead of preparing for the upcoming chemistry final, her browser history is filled to the brim with panic searches that would give her mother an aneurysm. Do reptile monsters have tails? How to tell if a girl likes you? Can a crush be psychosomatic? One Reddit thread had 73 replies and still no answers.

"And so I told her," Berdly continues, "moderatorship is a privilege, not a right, and if she wanted to keep it she could start by not—"

“Why do you think Susie’s staring at that vending machine so much?”

“Sorry, what?” Berdly stammers. 

“I mean,” she tries, scrambling, “it’s not doing anything. It’s been, like, two minutes?”

Berdly turns to look, making a show of craning his neck towards Susie. “That’s hardly unusual for her. She probably forgot how numbers work again.” He huffs a short laugh, but Noelle doesn’t join in.

Right. She must be imagining things. Susie stands still for another minute and then smacks the side of the glass with the flat of her palm. It isn’t nearly hard enough to make it move, but Noelle still hears it from across the room. She watches now, head fully turned, as Susie nexhales slowly and bends down to look at the underside of the machine. 

Noelle squints. Is something stuck?

Her stomach tightens. Oh no. Did the vending machine eat her money? That wouldn’t be surprising—thing’s ancient. Last semester, someone had to call the janitor because a granola bar got wedged between the coils and refused to drop. And the time before that… okay, maybe no one technically almost lost an arm, but there was elbow involvement. She should know—she was the one who had to call the nurse.

“I gotta go.”

It comes out too suddenly, and louder than she meant to. Berdly blinks, mid-bite, potato salad smeared at the corner of his mouth. 

“I—Erm, forgot. Something . Be right back!”

Noelle’s halfway out of her seat before she fully realizes what she’s doing.

It’s not a big deal. It’s not like she’s trying to talk to Susie or anything. This is just… what Berdly would probably call a social initiative. Practice. Maybe even a show of “romantic agility” or whatever nonsense he was ranting about at the library. 

When she reaches the machine, Susie is crouched, peering into the bottom slot with an annoyed scowl.

“Hel–Hi,” Noelle says, trying to sound casual. “Did it, um, get stuck?”

Susie looks up, startled. Her bangs move to the side a little bit, revealing a flash of brown eyes. Noelle almost chokes. “Uh…Yeah, freakin’ thing’s holding my chips hostage.”

Noelle kneels beside her, peeking in. Sure enough, a bright orange bag is caught just behind the glass, dangling off the edge of the coil. She glances at the keypad, then presses the number again—once, twice—then gives the machine a practiced thump with the heel of her hand. The bag shudders, then drops.

“There we go,” she says, dusting her hands off. “Berdly got his arm stuck in there once. I-I thought you’d need the help.” 

The look on Susie’s face is priceless. She blinks at the snack, then at her. “ Whoa . You actually got it. I was two seconds away from punching the thing.”

Noelle laughs a little too loud. “Faha! Please don’t!” 

Susie smiles in return. “Yeah, ‘preciate it and all that,” she says, giving Noelle a quick once-over before scratching her cheek in confusion. “Uh…Christmas…girl?”

Ouch . Okay. She did mentally prepare for this scenario. That doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“It’s, um. Noelle, actually. Holiday.” She fidgets with her sleeves. “We have algebra together? And… kind of almost every class, actually.”

Susie squints at her, clearly still trying to place the name. The silence stretches while Noelle feels her face get hotter by the second. 

She’s panicking now. Angel, she really didn’t want to bring up that moment, but if it helps jog Susie’s memory…“And you—you cut the frog open for me in bio lab that one time? I couldn’t do it, because I was, um, unwell .”

“Ohhh! Frog girl!” Susie snaps her fingers, face lighting up with sudden recognition. “Yeah, that day ruled. I got to slice that thing right down the middle. Thanks for totally wimping out, by the way. Made my week.”

Noelle forces out a laugh that sounds way too much like a dying kettle. “Yeah, glad I could… help”

She wants to bury herself in the vending machine. Or maybe crawl into one of the empty chip bags and live there forever.

Susie—oblivious as ever—reaches out and gives Noelle a hard pat on the shoulder. It nearly knocks the wind out of her, though not for the reason Susie might think. “You’re alright, Holiday,” she says, already turning away. “See you around.”

It takes a few minutes for her brain to kick back in motion. Once she's alone, she lets out a deep breath and starts walking back to her table. 

Okay. So that happened.

Was that… flirting? Did she just flirt? No, no, that wasn’t—except, maybe? Her voice did go all weird and high. And she did volunteer to help without thinking. That might count. And sure, Susie called her Frog Girl, but she smiled. She remembered. She touched her.

And… okay. It was okay.

For a first-ever attempt at doing whatever it is Berdly calls "fieldwork in romantic dynamics," it actually could’ve been way worse. At least Susie knows who she is now.

Noelle drifts back to the lunch table like she’s walking underwater, half-floating, half-frozen. She slides into her seat, still holding onto some dazed expression she can’t quite identify—but knows she probably looks ridiculous.

Berdly looks up from his mashed potatoes, brow furrowed. He protests. “Where did you go ? You were gone for like… ten minutes. Did you have a bad breakfast or something?”

Not exactly, but there are actual butterflies fluttering around in her stomach at the moment. 

“I got my period,” she blurts out, because somehow that's the better option. 

Berdly goes pale, drops his fork, and recoils back so hard he almost falls off his seat. “Ugh! Okay! I didn’t need to know that, Noelle! Some of us are trying to eat.”

As she sits down, Noelle keeps her eyes on her tray, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from squealing. Her cheeks are still flushed, her shoulder numb, and under all the awkwardness and panic, there’s a tiny, glowing spark of triumph. 

Maybe she does like Susie. Just a little. 

Alphys finishes scribbling on the whiteboard, steps back, and clears her throat.

“Okay! Just a reminder—the organic chem midterm is officially on Monday. That gives you the whole weekend to review chapters six through nine. And I highly recommend going over the reaction chain handout I gave you last week, especially for the short-answer section—”

The bell screeches overhead before she even finishes, and the classroom erupts into motion. Students spring to their feet, bags zip shut, chairs scrape loudly across the floor. The noise is immediate and overwhelming, and within seconds, most of the room is empty.

As she slides her notebook into her bag and zips it closed, something catches her eye. Across the aisle, Susie is still at her desk.

It’s almost too much. Like her brain has conjured a scene straight out of the daydreams she’s been trying very hard not to have since the cafeteria—Susie, hunched over a wrinkled worksheet, pencil tapping in a distracted rhythm, sunlight filtering through the windows and catching in her hair, turning it into a tangle of deep violet shadows.

Noelle lingers, pretending to fuss with her bag strap, though her fingers barely move. 

It’s fine. Totally fine. She’s just… observing. 

She should leave. She knows she should leave. But her legs aren’t listening. And her thoughts—her thoughts are suddenly crowded with possibilities, very embarrassing possibilities. 

First, the facts. Susie’s here. Alone . Not talking to anyone. Apparently not in a hurry to bolt like usual. She’s stuck on the chem worksheet, clearly. And this—this could be it. A window. A rare, absurdly specific alignment of fate. 

Noelle swallows hard. She’s not brave. She never has been. But something inside her urges her to push past the fear anyway.

“Hey,” she says. The word comes out smaller than she meant. She clears her throat, tries again, louder this time. “Um. Hey.”

Susie looks up confused. She probably expected everyone to have left the room already. “Oh. Uh. Sup, Noelle.”

She bites her lip to stifle a smile. Susie knows her now. Noelle gestures at the worksheet, trying not to look directly at her face in case it derails the sentence she’s building in her head. “Do you need help with that?”

Susie looks down at the page again, then back up. “I mean…yeah? I dunno. I wasn’t really paying attention when Alphys went over it.”

Please say yes. Please say yes. Noelle shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “It’s not too bad once you understand the basics. I…I could walk you through it, if you want!”

Big brown eyes stare back at her. She gulps.

“…Would that be, like, now? Or—?”

“I mean—” Noelle hesitates, her voice catching. She hadn’t thought this far ahead. The words come out before she can second-guess them. “We could go to my place? If you’re free?”

Susie stays silent. 

“Just for studying!” she insists, “Together, but not together together . Not like a—um—not a date . Unless you wanted it to—I just thought I could help? With reactions. Because they’re confusing. Gosh, I really should stop talking— ”

“Holiday,” Susie says, raising a hand and slamming it on the desk loud enough to make it rattle. “You’re making my brain hurt.”

Noelle clamps her mouth shut, face burning.

Susie raises an eyebrow. “First question: will there be snacks?”

“S-snacks?” 

“Yeah. Snacks.” she repeats, leaning forward.

“Sure? Yes! Obviously . What’s a study session without snacks, am I right ?” 

Then, mercifully, Susie chortles and leans back against the chair. She doesn't even bring a backpack to class, so she just grabs her pencil and the worksheet and starts rising from her seat. “Hell yeah. I knew you were cool!” 

Noelle scrambles to gather her things, fingers fumbling with the zipper of her bag, which conveniently refuses to go up. This is bold. Reckless, even. Compared to her friends, even something like suggesting a walk feels wildly out of her depth.

Anyhow, it's too late to chicken out, so she squares her shoulders and schools her features, like she's been taught a million times. “Great! M-my house isn’t far,” she manages to say. The zipper finally moves, a small victory. “We could walk together.”

Susie doesn’t answer right away, at least not with words. She steps closer, enough that Noelle catches the faintest whiff of cheap deodorant and grape soda. 

It's oddly comforting and so very Susie . 

Then, without fanfare, she punches her lightly on the shoulder. Just enough to make Noelle sway back half a step.

“Lead the way, Holiday.”

—---------------------------------------------

Susie whistles low under her breath the second they step through the front gate.

“Whoa. You’re rich rich. ”

“It’s not that fancy.” Noelle laughs, a little awkward, as she unlocks the front door. 

“Uh, yeah it is. Is this doorknob real gold?—don’t answer that.” Susie walks slowly, taking everything in. Her eyes scan the clean-cut lawn, the polished windows, the flower boxes lined up under the sills like they belong in a catalog. She lets out a breathy gasp and points at nearly everything she sees.

Noelle, meanwhile, can’t stop watching her. When Susie loses her mind over the AC system, something lights up inside her that she instinctively pushes down. If it were up to her, she’d offer her the nicest guest room and spend every day spoiling her rotten. Is this what being a sugar daddy feels like? Because she’s dangerously okay with it.

They go inside and close the door. Susie comes to a full stop just a few feet in, her eyes caught on the oversized family portrait hanging above the couch. Her posture stiffens a little, and Noelle nearly bumps into her back before catching herself.

She opens her mouth to ask what’s wrong, but Susie turns around first.

“Hey,” she says, brow furrowed. “Are you, like… sure it’s okay that I’m here?”

Noelle’s smile softens. 

She kicks off her shoes and gestures for Susie to do the same. “Don’t worry. My mom’s at work until late, and my sister’s away at college. It’s just us today.”

Susie hesitates for a second longer, still eyeing the portrait. It’s the worst one they ever took, in Noelle’s opinion—she was six, and her ponytails stuck out unevenly like rabbit ears. Her smile looks disturbingly wide, and the frilly dress itched so much she remembers crying right after the photo was taken. She used to beg her mom to take it down, but they never got around to it.

“Alright. If you say so.” Susie mutters.

Heart hammering inside her chest, Noelle leads the way into the living room. She gestures toward the low coffee table in front of the couch, already cleared off for their study session.

“Here’s good, right?” she says, setting her bag down with a quiet thud.

This time, Susie flops onto the carpet without hesitation, sprawling across the floor like she owns it, legs crossed and arms braced behind her. She tilts her head, giving the room a lazy once-over. “Man, it’s so quiet I can hear my own breath in here,” She turns to look at Noelle. “It’s kinda nice.”

It is nice, she supposes—but it’s ten times better when someone else is there to fill the empty space. 

Noelle ducks into the kitchen, grateful for the excuse to collect herself. The fridge hums as she pulls it open, the cool air biting at her flushed cheeks. She pours two glasses of iced tea with shaking hands, then grabs the nearest snack she can find—a half-full bag of chips—and dumps it into a bowl, careful not to spill anything on the counter. 

Her mom doesn’t usually check the snack cabinet, so there’s about a ten percent chance she’ll ever find out about her little study session. Either way, it doesn’t hurt to be extra careful, so she quickly wipes the marbled surface until she can see her reflection staring back at her. 

She returns to the living room with her arms full, doing her best not to drop anything.

“This is all I’ve got, sorry—unless you want something fancy. We have, um…Norwegian cheese and scallops too.”

Susie purses her lips and Noelle can almost hear the ‘ What the hell is that? ’ she clearly wants to sneer. Only the bowl of chips disappears into Susie’s lap before Noelle can finish her train of thought, and her lips twitch into a grin without her permission.

She settles onto the carpet beside her, legs folding neatly under her, smoothing her skirt out with one hand once the glasses are carefully set on the table—with a coaster under them, of course—The textbook follows. It lands between them with a soft thud, breaking the quiet. She opens it, flipping to the right section, and slides a worksheet over the smooth wood. 

Crumbs from Susie’s fingers dust the edge of the paper. If this were Berdly, she would’ve yelled at him to wash his hands immediately, but for some reason, she’s willing to let it slide just this once. 

“Okay, so,” Noelle starts, tapping her pencil against the reaction diagram, “this part here is where the electrophile—”

“ The what now ?”

“Right,” she giggles. “Let’s back up.”

They slip into a rhythm that surprises her with how natural it feels. Susie’s attention is sharp, focused in a way that Noelle hadn’t expected from her usual unruly attitude during class. She listens with her whole body, leaning forward when something doesn’t click, eyes narrowed as she puzzles through a formula or squints at a graph. Noelle redraws diagrams without being asked, narrates each step with soft explanations, her fingers tracing arrows and labels in neat, looping pencil. Every time, Susie nods like she’s building a ladder out of the information, rung by careful rung. It’s…kind of mesmerizing.

Between answers, Susie grimaces at the textbook’s grainy pictures. “Why does this look like it was printed in the Dark Ages?” she flips the page with exaggerated disdain. 

Noelle’s pencil lies poised over the margin. “Do you think this is where all their vending machine budget went?”

“Damn, I sure hope not.”

It’s dumb, but it makes her laugh—really laugh—and Susie chuckles too, head tilted back against the edge of the couch. The distance they’d had in class, the awkwardness and sidelong glances, feel miles away now. 

It’s weird. A week ago, Noelle couldn’t even look in Susie’s direction for more than two seconds without her stomach tying itself in knots. Every interaction had felt like walking a tightrope—one wrong word and she was sure she’d plummet straight into the kind of mortifying silence you never recover from.

Now, they’re sitting so close their knees keep bumping, their shoulders brushing every time Susie shifts or leans back against the couch. Noelle can feel the warmth radiating off her. It anchors her. Grounds her in a way textbooks never could.

From this distance, she's close enough to see details she's never had the opportunity to before, aided by the dim glow of a struggling streetlight. She takes in the flecks of amber in Susie’s eyes, the long sweep of dark lashes, the subtle maroon tint of her lips.

Straight out of a romance novel , her brain offers helpfully. She swats the thought away.

“Ohhh,” Susie mutters, sitting up straighter. “Okay. So like—this part’s like tag. That one’s ‘it,’ and everyone’s trying to not get tagged.”

“Susie, that’s…actually a pretty good metaphor.”

“Damn right! Who says I suck at school?” 

Many people, Noelle thinks, but she doesn’t agree. Not even close. When Susie’s focused, she’s quick-witted. She connects dots quickly, asks smart questions, and somehow makes even the worst diagrams seem interesting. Even when she’s looking far off into the distance, she gets the feeling that Susie’s brain is going a miles per hour, never taking a break from just thinking.

Noelle takes a sip of her tea, letting it mask the smile tugging at her lips. She wants to say all this out loud—how Susie’s not just smart but thoughtful , how she sees things other people don’t. But she swallows it down with the liquid. 

“Dude, we could’ve been friends way sooner,” Susie says, nudging Noelle’s knee with a casual tap. “Tell me if anyone gives you crap. I’ll wreck them, free of charge.”

The laugh catches in Noelle’s throat before it comes out. “You’re really amazing, you know that?” She breathes more than says, voice barely audible. 

When she doesn’t move, just stares at her with wide, bottomless eyes, Noelle nervously taps her fingers against the table. Susie’s smirk falters for a second. “Careful, blondie. Keep saying stuff like that and your bird boyfriend’s gonna get the wrong idea.”

The cup slips from Noelle's hands, but she catches it in time. 

“Sorry—my what?”

“That feathered dork, Nerdly? It’s cool, I won't tell anyone.”

“Berdly?” she chokes. “He’s not my boyfriend!”

Susie raises an eyebrow, and Noelle feels her brain spiral.

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait.

Did Susie think she was with Berdly this entire time? That this was some kind of tutoring charity mission instead of what it was, which—if Noelle was being honest with herself and the universe—was absolutely, 100% a sad excuse for a date? Or the warm-up to one? Or a vaguely flirty study hangout with potential?

Oh god. Kris was right. She totally blew this. She should’ve tested the waters first—taken someone low-stakes to the fair, like that weirdly enthusiastic cashier from the bookstore or Temmie in a wig. Gain some date experience first, Berdly had said. “Low emotional investment,” Kris had mumbled, staring dead-eyed into their notebook. They’d practically begged her not to go straight for the big prize. 

And yet here she was, speedrunning her romantic downfall.

“I’m not seeing anyone,” Noelle says, fast. “I’m very single. Painfully single. Terminally. Like, aggressively .”

A snort escapes Susie. 

It doesn't help her case at all. “And I don’t like guys like that, anyway. Or at all, really. Not that you were asking. Unless you were. Were you ? Because if that changes anything,—I mean—”

“You okay there?” Susie asks, amusement dripping from every word.

“I’m great .” 

She looks down, fiddling with the edge of a sticky note. “Didn’t mean to assume anything. Just…you and Nerdly always seem joined at the hip.”

“Only because he won’t take a hint,” Noelle points out. Her eyes widen. “Wait—oh my gosh, that was mean. He’s not awful or anything, just…relentless. And I’m not very good at confrontation. But I’ve never—” She waves her hands helplessly, trying to grab onto something invisible. It doesn't work. “—dated him. Or wanted to. Ever .”

She stops. Horrified. That was way too much information. She knows she’s rambling. Her mouth keeps moving, and her brain has fully given up. Susie is staring at her like she’s having some kind of episode, which—fair. She’s starting to wonder if she actually might be.

“Okay,” Susie says simply, not looking up from the worksheet at hand. Noelle sighs in relief. “Good to know. I guess.”

Before the subject drifts back to reactions,  Noelle interrupts the silence with a cough. Her fingers drum restlessly against the edge of her tea glass. “So, uh—what about you? Got a…” And god, it kills her to even utter these words, “boyfriend?”

Susie half scoffs without looking up. “Nah.” She lifts her pencil and starts scribbling random nonsense in the corner of the worksheet—squiggles, tiny cartoon swords, a very angry-looking machine. “I mean, who would wanna date me, right?” 

It hits Noelle almost like a slap—this intense, ridiculous urge to say I would . The words leap straight to the back of her throat, but she swallows them down hard before doing anything stupid. 

Instead, she forces a breath through her nose. “Well, um. There’s a fair this weekend,” Her sweater suddenly feels too stuffy, even though it’s mid-autumn. “Kris was supposed to come but they bailed, so…”

Susie raises one thick eyebrow. Yellow irises pierce through Noelle’s very soul. 

“I want you to come with me!” she yells. 

Once the words are out, the room falls into silence for a horrifyingly long couple seconds. Noelle swears she can hear the tick of the kitchen clock from the next room. She doesn’t dare look at Susie—can’t, not until she’s sure this won’t blow up in her face. 

She braces for teasing. But none of that ever comes.

“Alright,” When she looks up, she's met with Susie’s contagious smile. “Haven’t been to a fair in years. I’ll bring my A-game.”

It takes her a second to realize she’s still holding her breath—and another to let it out. The heat behind her ears doesn’t go away, but now it feels less like embarrassment and more like something else entirely. 

“Oh,” she grits out. Moments like this, she really wishes she had even half of Kris’s effortless cool. If she did, her face wouldn’t be so red, her palms wouldn’t be clammy, and she wouldn’t feel like she’d just swallowed a live firework. “ Cool . Yeah. Me too.”

Susie doesn’t seem to notice. Or if she does, she’s merciful enough not to mention it. She leans forward again, scooping up her pencil like she didn't just tilt Noelle’s world backwards.

“Can’t believe I’m sayin’ this, but we should, uh, go back to studying or whatever. Toriel will kill me if I flunk this test.”

“Right! Yes. Studying. That’s a thing we’re doing.”

She grabs her pencil too, more to have something to do with her hands than any real academic ambition. Her vision blurs slightly as she tries to reread the same paragraph for the third time. It might as well be ancient runes.

She is absolutely not thinking about the fact that Susie said yes. That they’re going to the fair. Together.

And she’s definitely not thinking about how Susie smiled when she said it. Or how her knee is still brushing against Noelle’s. Or how she’s already mentally scheduling a panic text to Kris the moment Susie leaves.

She focuses on the page. She underlines something random. Her heart is still racing.

Play it cool, Noelle.

She underlines it again, harder.

When Alphys starts handing back the graded quizzes, Noelle can barely bring herself to look. She’d spent the entire weekend in a dizzy haze, too excited about the thought of an afternoon alone with Susie to even glance at the chem worksheet. By the time the test rolled around, she could barely focus. Her palms are a little sweaty as she flips her paper over, bracing for a mediocre result.

Instead, neat red ink at the top greets her with a circled 98.

Her eyes widen. Oh. That’s… actually pretty good.

Across the classroom, a chorus of groans and muffled complaints rise like a wave. She doesn’t even need to look up to feel Berdly staring daggers into her skull. 

“No. No, no, no, this must be a mistake,” he sputters, visibly distressed. “A 97!?”

Noelle quickly lowers her eyes to her desk, pretending to read over her answers again while fighting the corners of her mouth from curving up. She almost wants to apologize. Almost .

“Noelle!” Susie calls across the rows of desks, beaming. She waves her test in the air as she makes her way over. “Dude, check this out.”

She practically throws herself into the seat beside Noelle, slapping the paper on top of the table. 

She got a 65.

“I didn’t think I was gonna get higher than a 40!” Susie laughs, breathless, like she herself can't believe it. “I even remembered the thing with the electrons! Well, kinda.”

Noelle stares down at the paper, then back at Susie, warmth blooming in her chest. She’s just starting to open her mouth, ready to congratulate her, when a pair of arms wrap around her.

It’s sudden, unsteady, and strong—Susie pulls her into a quick hug that nearly knocks her sideways.

“Thanks, blondie,” she murmurs, voice low beside Noelle’s ear. “I mean it.”

She freezes. Heat rushes up her neck, blooming across her face. Susie is warm and solid and close in a way that steals the air from her lungs. She can feel the softness beneath the muscle, smell something earthy and familiar. She barely breathes.

And then it’s gone.

“Gotta go show Kris,” Susie calls over her shoulder, holding the test up like a trophy. She's already halfway across the room when the words catch up to Noelle’s brain. “They owe me ten bucks!”

Still in her seat, Noelle’s eyes stay locked on her desk for the whole class. She reaches up to touch her cheek, fingers hovering over the tingly skin from where Susie’s breath had brushed against it. 

She can only hope she isn’t the only one feeling fuzzy all over.

It’s already the day of the fair. And Noelle has been on the brink of a nervous breakdown since sunrise. She’s tried—honestly, truly tried—not to spiral as the hours crept closer, but it turns out there's no calming down when your newly found crush agrees to go somewhere with you. Alone. 

In one hand, she holds up a deep red sweater; with the other, she checks her phone for the fifth time. She's already ten minutes late . For the first time in her life. And somehow, still not dressed.

She looks up to find that her room looks like a hurricane tore through it and tried on every outfit it could find. The floor’s a war zone—mismatched socks, abandoned sweaters, and, somehow, her glitter-covered third-grade Halloween costume glaring up at her like a cursed artifact. She cringes so hard her soul tries to leave her body. But honestly? Still not as bad as the alarming number of pony-themed T-shirts lurking at the back of her closet. 

Four outfit changes in and nothing feels right. Too formal. Too childish. The third one isn’t bad—it actually looks pretty good—but it feels like she’s trying too hard for something that’s supposed to be a casual hangout. The sweater’s nice though, it’s cozy, flattering, and maybe a little bold. Paired with the corduroy skirt, it makes her legs look unfairly good.

She knows she looks cute. The problem is the gnawing suspicion that Susie might not agree. And it’s ridiculous how much that matters. How much it hurts, when it really, truly shouldn’t.

“This isn’t a date, Kris. You can go home now,” she sighs, tugging at the hem of her sweater as she turns toward the door, only to find it empty.

From the bed, Kris makes a sound like a dying mosquito. They’re sprawled upside-down, head dangling off the edge, lazily flipping through an issue of Teen Trendz . There’s a cool alligator girl on the cover, smoking a cigarette in a leather jacket and platform boots. It feels like it's mocking her. 

“You’re putting on mascara,” Kris says without looking up. “It’s a date.”

“I’m not putting it on for her ,” she hisses, blotting at the corner of her eye with trembling fingers. “It’s not a date. We never said it was a date.”

“Uh-huh,” Kris replies, still upside-down. Their voice somehow manages to sound both flat and cutting. “Why are you freaking out, anyway? It’s just Susie.”

Noelle rounds on them, sweater clutched like a lifeline. “ You’re the one who told me to ask someone out!”

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it. Especially not with Susie .”  

A shiver creeps up her spine. “You think she’s going to make fun of me?” 

Kris finally lifts their head to look at her properly. “No,” they say, more serious now. “I think she’s totally losing her shit right now and it’s an actual miracle she hasn’t called me for help yet .” they flip to another page. “I’m fully booked these days.”

“You think she’s—what, nervous, then?” 

“I think she’s emotionally backed up like a clogged sink,” Kris replies, flopping onto their back again. “But, yeah. That too.”

Feeling defeated. Noelle exhales slowly, sinking to sit on the edge of the bed. Her shoulders slump. “Last time I was fine because it was only studying. What if she thinks I'm a friggin’ dork now?”

As if on cue, Kris slides off the bed with a thump, saunters over, and snatches the mascara wand from her.

“Close your eyes,” they order.

Noelle blinks up at them. “W-what?”

“Close your eyes. You’re trembling so much you’re gonna stab your retina. I’ll do it.”

“ You know how?”

“Not really. But if it goes wrong, you get a cool eyepatch.”

Noelle lets out a shaky laugh, nerves curling tight in her stomach. Still, she obediently shuts her eyes. She’s known Kris her entire life—long enough to recognize that look—and knows better than to argue when they’ve decided something’s happening. Resistance is futile.

Kris warns her to not move, but their touch is soft as they tilt her chin up and start carefully swiping the wand through her lashes. “You are a dork, by the way,” they add under their breath. “This is common knowledge. And she likes you anyway.”

“You don't know that,” Noelle says, voice low and clipped.

With a sigh, they pull back slightly, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. They don’t say anything— typical . Kris rarely does unless it really counts. Maybe that’s a human thing, or maybe it’s just a Kris thing. Noelle’s gotten used to the guessing game by now, learning to read between the silences, to interpret the slight tilt of their head or the way their mouth twitches up or down depending on the situation. 

Still, she presses on. “It’s pointless anyway,” she murmurs, letting the words unravel. “Even if Susie liked me—which she doesn’t, obviously—what would it matter?”

It sounds ridiculous, but hearing herself say the words out loud makes the full weight of what she’s gotten herself into sink heavily onto her shoulders. The brave version of herself—the one who sat cross-legged on the living room floor and asked Susie to the fair—feels a lifetime away. That girl had been riding adrenaline, maybe even a little temporary insanity. This version? She remembers exactly who she is. And who she’s up against.

Noelle lowers her hands into her lap, twisting her fingers until her knuckles ache. “It’s not like my mom would ever be okay with it. She doesn’t like anyone,” Her throat tightens. “And I can’t fight her forever.”

Gosh. Kris is gonna kill her if she cries now and ruins their hard work. So she bites the inside of her cheek and gulps down the knot inside her throat. Even so, it's difficult to ignore Carol’s voice constantly drumming inside her head, attacking her at every turn. What will people think? Why are you being so difficult? Why would you embarrass me like that? 

It’s Kris who breaks the silence this time. 

“Elly,” they begin, setting a warm hand on her shoulder “You’re being a huge pain in the ass right now–” 

“Helpful!” 

“–But, let me finish , you’re also stronger than you think.” 

She sits stunned for a moment. That might be the nicest thing Kris has ever said to her in the ten years they’ve known each other. Well—maybe not ever, but it’s close enough to make her question reality. The words don’t even sound natural coming from them. She half-expects the walls to dissolve and reveal another one of her dreams, the kind where everything goes right and nothing makes sense afterward.

It would be ridiculous to pinch herself in the middle of a conversation, so she doesn’t. But the thought hangs there, faint and intrusive.

How is she supposed to explain to Kris, who knows her better than anyone, that she’s actually no more than a crybaby who can’t stand up for herself? The courage she had the day she decided to talk to Susie is already gone. All that’s left is the familiar tightness in her chest, the sting behind her eyes she’s too proud to let show.

Still, Kris wouldn’t say it if they didn’t mean it.  They’re not generous with words, and they don’t deal in flattery. And Kris, for all their sarcasm and deadpan stares, has never lied to her.

She doesn’t know if a reply is expected, so she keeps her mouth shut and dips her head slightly, letting the moment pass without comment. The quiet feels safer than trying to find the right thing to say.

They swipe the wand one last time, then lean back to give her a once-over. “Okay. Open your eyes.”

Noelle turns to the mirror and blinks owlishly at her reflection. 

Her cheeks are still a bit flushed, but the mascara does wonders, bringing out the warm brown in her eyes and making them look a little brighter, a little braver. Would a little lip gloss send the wrong message? Too much effort? Too obvious? Her fingers hover over the tube on her dresser, a shimmery pink that’s barely noticeable when it’s on—but she knows it’s there. 

She hesitates, biting the inside of her cheek, then drops it again with a quiet sigh. Baby steps .

“How are you so good at this?” she mumbles, still inspecting herself. “You’ve literally never worn makeup in your entire life.”

Kris, already laying back on the bed with a throw pillow balanced over their face, grunts. “My boyfriend’s into this stuff. Don’t make me say that out loud again.”

She almost trips with a pair of jeans. “So you do have a boyfriend!”

“Don't you have a date to get to?” 

The comeback stalls on her tongue. Her eyes flick to the clock on her phone—and her stomach drops because she's already twenty minutes late. As much as she’d love to interrogate Kris until they spill every last bean about this alleged boyfriend, she has bigger problems—like not making Susie think she’s a flake. Or worse, that she bailed at the last minute. 

“You’re the absolute worst,” Noelle replies, pulling on her jacket and adjusting her purse. “And don’t expect a debrief later—I’m not telling you anything .” 

“Send my regards to your girlfriend!” Kris calls after her.

Noelle shuts the door a little harder than necessary after that. Outside, the cold bites instantly at her legs, but she doesn't feel it—not through the adrenaline rocketing through her chest. Her heeled boots clack frantically against the pavement as she breaks into a fast walk that’s just short of a jog.

By the time she sees the fairgrounds in the distance—lights spinning, music floating through the air, laughter rising in bursts—her lungs are aching and her bangs are stuck to her forehead. She slows to a walk as she rounds the corner, calves burning from the effort. 

Then she sees her.

Susie is leaning against the fence just past the ticket booth, hands jammed deep in her jacket pockets. Her shoulders are hunched like she's bracing against the wind, one boot nudging a pebble in aimless circles. A crumpled flyer flutters near her foot, and a half-finished soda sweats on the ledge beside her. Her expression doesn’t give much away, but she doesn’t look pissed, so Noelle counts it as a small miracle.

She mentally steels herself and jogs the last few steps. “Hey! I’m here—I’m so, so sorry—hi.”

Susie’s head snaps up. Her eyes land on Noelle, and she scans her from head to toe for a brief second. “Hey, blondie. Uh…I kinda thought you weren't gonna show up?”

“I was! I swear—I just,” panicked for an hour and changed outfits ten times “Had a bit of trouble finding my purse, and then I had to clean up my room, and—”

“Whoa, okay! Breathe ,” Susie says, holding up a hand. Her grin kicks in a second later, crooked and cocky. “It’s fine. I don’t have anything to do later, anyway, so you get a whole afternoon of Susie.” She does a little one-handed flourish, showing herself off, then adds, quieter, “If, y’know… that’s cool with you.”

Noelle’s heart is already thumping. “It is. It’s cool with me.”

They fall into step without thinking, shoes scuffing softly against the gravel as the fair unfurls in front of them—a restless sprawl of lights, noise, and color. Strings of bulbs hang between booths, buzzing faintly, casting uneven glows over faded signs and rusted hinges. Most of the attractions look as if they’ve been dragged from town to town for decades, worn down by time and never once polished.

The air is thick with the scent of frying oil, caramelized sugar, and something vaguely burnt.

It’s perfect.

Noelle keeps close. It’s easier to follow the gravity of Susie’s presence, which pulls her in like a magnet, than to think too hard about where they’re going. Booths blur into one another: shelves stacked with lopsided plush animals, rigged wheels creaking along, prizes swaying overhead from plastic hooks. Every few steps, a voice cuts through the crowd shouting through a megaphone, a cowbell clanging, the fair pulling at their attention from all directions.

It’s the same as always in Hometown. Same smells, same lights, same stalls. But with Susie next to her, Noelle feels like she’s seeing it all differently. Brighter, louder, somehow alive in a way it never used to be. 

They visit a booth draped in hand-painted signs promising fortunes and palm readings, then a haunted house ride that rattles over rusted tracks. The cartoon vampire painted above the entrance is missing half a tooth. Inside, the cart jolts forward in the dark, and Noelle lets out an involuntary yelp. For a split second, Susie looks genuinely startled, but the moment cracks with her loud, clumsy laugh. It comes too fast to be real, and Noelle snorts, then laughs too. Perhaps louder than the joke deserves. 

Eventually, hunger pulls them to the far end of the fair. They share a tray of curly fries soaked in oil, drowning in ketchup. Susie tears into them immediately, chewing through her words, sauce smudged at the corners of her mouth.

Noelle hesitates. Her mom would’ve made a face just seeing the tray and complained about the high levels of salt and cholesterol, then berate her for not setting an example proper for a Holiday. But Susie looks so delighted, it’s hard to not want to see what all the fuzz is about. 

She reaches for a fry. It’s soggy and already lukewarm. It takes her a full minute to actually bring it close to her mouth, so long that even Susie has turned mid bite to give her all of her undivided attention. At last, she bites in, the salt stinging her tongue almost instantly. Her face scrunches into a grimace, but she chews and swallows it anyway.

“Drama queen” Susie snorts.

The napkin disintegrates halfway through cleaning her fingers, sticky and useless. “It was so bad!” she says, laughing through it, her face aching from how much she’s been smiling. 

Susie leans back, eyes crinkling as she grabs another fry.

Still, like everything good, it has to end. The sky’s deepening now, the air cooler on her arms, and the shadows stretching longer across the fairground. Her phone buzzed fifteen minutes ago—just a weather alert, but it reminded her: it’s past eight. Her mom might get home any minute now. Noelle hates the way curfews hang over her like invisible strings, pulling tighter the longer she stays out. Still, she’d rather not risk getting grounded for a week—not when that week would mean no Susie.

She’s just about to say something, to suggest maybe they start heading back, when they pass the carousel, its tinny music warbling in the background, and a stall with bright yellow ducks bobbing along in a shallow trough.

“You ever win one of those?” Susie asks, nodding toward the prizes—tiny neon bears with dead eyes and cheaper-than-plastic skin. It snaps Noelle out of her anxious spiral.

“No,” she answers bashfully. ”I tried once, but I wasn’t even close.”

“Watch and learn,” Susie says, and peels off toward the booth like she’s been personally issued a challenge.

Noelle watches her pick up the crooked fishing rod, her claws wrapping awkwardly around the foam handle. She looks almost comically oversized next to the kiddie setup, but she squints deep in concentration.

Ten seconds in, she misses the first duck entirely.

“Shut up,” she says, before Noelle can even laugh.

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You were thinking it.”

Susie narrows her eyes, jaw set, as she realigns the rod with the trough. Her movements shift from clumsy to careful, each attempt more focused than the last. On the fourth try, the hook catches. She reels the duck in with deliberate slowness, lifting it from the water as if anything faster might jinx it. 

The plastic drips back into the trough, water beading on the cheap paint. Susie stands there for a second, duck in hand, expression unreadable. Then she turns toward the booth worker, shoulders squared, chin tilted high. Noelle claps enthusiastically behind her.

The booth worker doesn’t even glance up from his phone. He thumbs the screen, bored, and mumbles, “Pick one.”

Susie hesitates. Her eyes scan the drooping rows of prizes, each one more pathetic than the last. There are saggy bears with lopsided heads, sun-bleached dolphins, a few unidentifiable blobs in neon fur. After a second, she reaches for the smallest, ugliest bear of the bunch—a sour green thing with a crooked arm and stuffing bulging at the seams.

With an awkward half-motion, she holds the bear out, eyes fixed somewhere over Noelle’s head.

“Here,” she says, almost under her breath. “You can have it.”

Noelle swallows nervously but extends her arms towards it anyway. She takes it carefully, fearing any wrong movement might make it disappear. Looking at it up close, it looks like a really bad imitation of a half-chewed gummy bear—but it’s warm from Susie’s hand, and suddenly it might as well be solid gold.

“For me?” she asks, though she already knows the answer.

Susie huffs out a breath, scratching the side of her neck. “It’s not a big deal,” she says quickly. “It’s dumb. I wouldn’t even have come if it wasn’t for you, so, you have it.”

It takes every little drop of willpower inside of her not to start crying on the spot. Noelle clutches the bear impossibly tight to her chest. Her smile starts small, but it blooms into something open and luminous, impossible to hide. 

“Thank you, Susie.” She means it. For the bear, yes—but also for everything else. For showing up. For staying. For making it easier to breathe, if only for a little while. She’s not brave enough to say the rest out loud, but she hopes at least some of it gets through.

When she looks up again, Susie’s already tugging at her hoodie, trying to disappear into it. There’s a hint of red creeping into her face, and her fingers twitch by her sides like they’re not sure what to do with themselves. “‘s whatever.”

The quiet between them feels full, almost sacred. Noelle really doesn't want to ruin it. But when she shifts the bear in her arms, the edge of her sleeve slips back just enough to show the time.

8:23 p.m.

Her chest sinks. She swallows the disappointment rising in her throat and presses the bear tighter, like maybe holding onto it a little longer will freeze the moment.

“…Hey,” she says, voice barely above the music still drifting from the carousel. “I should probably head home soon. My mom’s gonna come from work soon.”

Susie goes still. The change is small, almost nothing, but Noelle catches it. A faint drop in her shoulders. Something unreadable flickers across her face, quick as a blink.

“Oh,” Susie whispers. “Yeah, I guess I should split too. It’s late, huh?”

Noelle nods in agreement, but her heart twists. This wasn’t how she wanted it to end, standing awkwardly by the games with a stuffed bear between them and the night pulling away like a tide. 

She looks up at Susie, a goodbye at the tip of her tongue, when she sees it. The Ferris wheel, half-lit and turning slow, its colors flickering in the dark almost hypnotically. Her breath catches.

She really shouldn’t, but… “Before we leave, could we do one more thing?”

“Depends. Is it lame?” Susie replies, mockingly.

Noelle doesn’t answer. She just turns, glancing toward the Ferris wheel glowing at the far end of the fairgrounds, its metal frame rimmed with soft yellow bulbs, slow and steady as it turns through the night.

“…I-I see,”

“Just one ride,” she sputters. “Then I’ll go!”

They don’t speak much as they walk over. When it’s their turn, the operator, an old man with a long beard, lifts the bar and lets them in with a wink. 

The cart sways slightly under their weight as they climb aboard. It’s old, painted red but chipped at the corners, and the metal frame groans with every tiny movement. There’s also another issue, the seat is too narrow, and Susie has to angle her legs to the side just to fit, making her legs press against Noelle’s. 

The wheel lurches, then begins its slow ascent.

Looking through the window, it’s hard not to gasp.

Beneath them, the town stretches out in a beautiful view, growing smaller with each turn. Lights smear into color below—cotton candy pinks, golds, and greens—spilling across the fairgrounds like a watercolor painting. The music is just a distant murmur now, the crowd reduced to flickers of movement and echoing laughter. Up here, it’s quieter. As if they’re the only two people in the world. 

Once again, Noelle clutches the stuffed bear to her chest. Her fingers toy with its tiny felt ear, over and over. She keeps her eyes on the horizon, on the way the sky fades from violet to dark ink.

Somewhere distant, the carousel starts up again, its music rising faintly into the night. But then another song bleeds in, fuzzy through the speakers by the food stalls, half-lost in the wind. A lazy, wistful tune. Some retro ballad Noelle’s heard before in one of her dad’s playlists, but never really bothered paying attention to. 

The silence grows heavy between them, making her throat dry. Noelle wonders if Susie’s feeling it too, if the awkwardness is mutual. She glances over to check, but Susie’s thick bangs fall across her face, shielding whatever expression might be there.

She knows she has to say something, but once she opens her mouth, she closes it again. The words sit tangled in her throat.

“You know,” she says finally, “I used to be really scared of these.” 

Susie’s eyes find hers. Wide with interest.

“Really? What changed?” 

The lights below throw color across her features—cool blues and sharp pinks painting her in shifting tones. Noelle swallows.

“I-I guess I grew out of it,” she says quietly, eyes trained on the metal bar in front of them. “Eventually, I stopped thinking about how far off the ground we were. I started looking at the view instead.”

It’s strange, feeling so comfortable and so unsteady at once. Her hands are calm in her lap, but her chest is buzzing, and every breath feels like it might carry a question she isn’t brave enough to ask. When she first invited Susie to the fair, she never expected her to say yes. She certainly didn’t expect them to spend the entire evening laughing, talking, sharing food, moving from one ride to the next like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And now here they are. 

Susie huffs, full of thought. “That’s kind of deep, I never really thought about it that way.”

Her voice is more gentle than usual. She shifts in her seat, the creak of the cart barely louder than the music still drifting from below. Her fingers tap against her knee. Not rhythmically, but distracted.

“I guess I used to be scared of this stuff too,” Susie says after a pause. “Heights, rides, big crowds. I’d act like I wasn’t, but I’d always pick the games instead. ‘s just safer on the ground.” 

Noelle smiles, even if it’s a little wobbly. “And now?”

“Now I don’t know,” she replies. Her eyes flick toward Noelle, only for a second. “I actually kinda forgot I was scared, ‘cause you looked so happy. That’s so cheesy, though. Don’t tell anyone I said that.”

That pulls a carefree giggle out of her. Susie carries herself with the rough confidence of a bully. Heck, her scowl can clear a hallway in seconds. But tonight, Noelle has seen the way her eyes soften when she listens, the way she offers the last bite of food without saying anything, the way she notices small things and doesn’t make a show of it. 

She’s a very sweet girl. The thought makes Noelle tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, still smiling. 

“I won’t. Promise. Not even Kris!”

“ Definitely not that little fiend. They’d never let it go.” Susie barks a laugh, then swallows. “Crap, they were being so weird about us hanging out, but I don’t see what the big deal is.” 

“Weird?” Noelle repeats.

Susie scratches the side of her face, looking off into the dark before continuing.  “Yeah. They said something earlier at school. About you. And me.” She doesn’t quite look at her. In fact, it’s the first time Noelle’s seen Susie actively hiding her face from her. “They were being a little shit, said something like... maybe you had a thing for me. Which is totally nuts, right?”

Even through Susie’s awkwardly forced laugh, Noelle can hear her own heartbeat hammering against her eardrums, loud and unrelenting.

This was it. Of course it was. Things had been going so well, almost unbelievably well, and now the universe had decided to drop her flat on her face. Because nothing ever goes right for Noelle Holiday. Not her hopeless attempts at flirting, not her careful outfit planning, not even her half-successful maybe-date that had felt too perfect to be real.

If she weren’t seconds away from a meltdown, she would already be halfway to Kris’s house with a shovel and a Dess’s bat. She would do it in front of Toriel too, no hesitation. And then she would make Kris promise to never speak to her again, right after she ruined their pillow with an hour of sobbing. And ate all their ice cream.

Because it’s over. 

“I-I don't even know why I'm bringing this up now. I just thought it was funny, yeah, hilarious.” A cough. 

She considers laughing it off. That would be easier—for Susie, for herself. She could say Kris is always running their mouth, or that they’ve said the same thing about half the class. She could pretend none of this mattered.

But her throat aches. Her eyes sting. She blinks hard, but it’s no use. The truth pushes forward before she can stop it, bare and quiet.

“It’s true.”

“—’Cause I mean, it’s not like I care but. Wait, what! ?” Susie jerks toward her, eyes wide, “ You’re serious? ” she yells incredulously.

Noelle’s breath stumbles, and then the words pour out, tangled and desperate. “I get it if you don’t want to hang out anymore. I know it’s weird, and I never meant to make you uncomfortable. I was only hoping maybe we could still be friends. I really, really like being your friend.”

Her shoulders shake. The wind brushes against her face, cool on the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. This wasn’t how she wanted to be seen, breathless and unraveling, her voice breaking with every word, all her carefully woven restraint undone in mere seconds.

“Noelle. Noelle. Hey ,”

It’s the way Susie says her name that makes Noelle look up.

She’s not pulling away. She isn’t laughing or shifting to the other side of the seat. Her expression is open, thoughtful, her eyes steady in the soft light. The carnival glow reflects off her skin, off the quiet crease of her brow. She reaches out and places a hand on Noelle’s shoulder.

“Are you kidding?” she says, “Why would I ever hate you?”

Noelle’s breath catches, but she can’t speak. She can only stare dumbly at Susie’s hand keeping her in place.

“You’re the first girl in this town who talked to me like I was friggin’ normal,” she continues, “I mean, yeah, I get that I’m not... you know. The easiest person to talk to. Most people are too chicken to look me in the eye. But you ,”

Her voice catches for a second, and she presses her lips together, as if weighing whether she should keep going. The quiet hum of the Ferris wheel fills the silence between them, broken only by the soft rustle of fabric as Susie shifts in her seat.

“I’m not good with this kind of stuff,” Susie admits, voice roughening at the edges. “But you’re important to me. I just didn’t think—” she falters, looking straight at her now, “—someone like you could ever feel that way about me. I guess.”

The ride starts to screech again, signaling that they’re close to coming to a stop. “And,” Susie declares, louder. Her eyes flick to Noelle and away again. “I like you too. That’s what I’m saying. So…you don’t have to worry. It’s fine.”

Noelle’s chest feels too small to hold everything rushing through her. Her heartbeat is a steady throb, loud and relentless, and all she can really focus on is the shape of Susie’s arm, Susie’s jacket, Susie’s presence. Her mind is blank, and this time she really does pinch herself this time to check that this isn’t, in fact, a dream. 

When the pain registers in, the corners of her mouth turn up, and she’s too elated to care whether she looks like a psycho right now. 

Oh god. 

She doesn’t have to kill Kris anymore. 

“I don’t have to kill Kris anymore.” Noelle rasps out. When she realizes what just came out of her mouth, Susie’s already gawking at her like she’s just grown a second head. 

“Uh, me neither?” she laughs breathlessly. “Oh man, I thought this was gonna be so much more awkward, but you’re still weirdly cute.” she pauses in realization, “Hey, I can say that now!”

Noelle doesn’t respond. She can’t. Her brain short-circuits the second Susie calls her cute, and whatever filter she might’ve once possessed is long gone.

Well, fudge it. She grabs her by the collar. Then leans in, and presses her lips clumsily against Susie’s. Noelle's read enough romance novels to have a vague idea of what kissing’s supposed to look like, then again, most of them don't feature any reptile monsters. 

It’s kind of hard to find the right angle, but then Susie tilts her head a bit to the right, and it's hard not to gasp as the feeling of sharp teeth grazing her lips. 

She tastes her own tears combined with the leftover ketchup of their snack from earlier, and Noelle grows overzealous. She nudges a little deeper and threads her fingers through Susie’s wild mane of hair. 

When they finally pull apart, Susie blinks at her, wide-eyed and a little dazed. Her lips are shiny with spit, and her face an adorable shade of deep magenta. “Holy crap,” she stutters.

Noelle huffs a laugh, cheeks burning. “Sorry. That was—”

Before she can continue, a loud bang bang bang rattles through the metal frame of their seat. The entire carriage shudders.

They both jump.

The Ferris wheel operator stands at the base, expression flat, knuckles still resting against the side of the compartment.

“You two lovebirds wanna get off, or should I start charging rent?” he demands. It’s probably common for him to find teenagers having full-on make out sessions inside the carriages, but that doesn’t make it any less mortifying.

Susie groans and covers her face with one hand. Meanwhile, Noelle, still holding onto Susie’s collar, turns to stare at the man with wide, guilty eyes. Her expression lands somewhere between horror and satisfaction, the way a kid might look after getting caught mid-cookie-theft with crumbs all over their face.

“Sorry, sorry,” she stumbles out, finally releasing her grip. Her hands fidget at the hem of her skirt, brushing away nonexistent dust as she tries to steady her breathing. 

They climb down from the compartment together, their movements stiff and clumsy. The ground wobbles under Noelle’s feet like she hasn’t quite returned to Earth yet. 

She keeps her head down, eyes fixed on her shoes, while Susie yells something inaudible that might be a threat to the operator’s continued existence. 

The ride wasn’t that long, but it had stretched out in her mind, blooming into something far larger than time could measure. Noelle doesn't need to check her watch to know it’s past nine. Her mom is probably pacing the front room by now, rehearsing a lecture with every step. The image should fill her with dread, but instead, all she can feel is a soft, dizzy warmth that has nothing to do with the weather.

She’s starting to shiver a little, the cold night air biting at her bare legs. Susie, as it turns out, is actually a really, really cute girl. And she’s all hers now. The thought makes her sigh in content. 

And maybe tomorrow she’ll wake up grounded, and her mom will look at her with that disappointed frown she knows all too well. But tonight, she made a choice. She kissed the girl she liked. She let herself want something and didn’t run from it.

And…

Warm weight falls on top of her shoulders—Susie's jacket. “Hey, want me to walk you home?” 

“Yes please.” She replies, and goes to grab Susie’s hand without thinking too hard about it. 

It’s a quiet afternoon at the library, or at least it’s supposed to be. The four of them have taken over the usual table by the back window, same spot as always, tucked behind a crooked shelf that smells faintly of old printer paper and lemon-scented cleaner. Sunlight spills in diagonally across the scratched surface of the table, catching on Kris’s half-finished math worksheet, a pair of tangled earbuds, and a crumpled bag of snacks Susie brought in against library policy.

Noelle sits between Susie and Kris, her hands folded neatly over her notebook, though she hasn’t taken notes in ten minutes. Her pencil rolls slowly back and forth with the subtle tilt of the table. Every so often she glances up, then looks away again. They’re close enough that the scent of her chewing gum—minty, with a strange undernote of whatever cafeteria dessert had come with lunch—lingers in the air between them.

Berdly finally breaks the silence, his voice overly casual and clearly forced. “So,” he says, adjusting his glasses with his usual nervous twitch, “you two are…?”

He trails off, eyes flicking between them. He points a finger at Noelle, then at Susie.

Susie slowly turns her head, but continues to chew the gum Noelle offered her earlier that morning, jaw working lazily. “Got a problem, bird boy?

As if on cue, Berdly goes stiff as a board, eyes wide behind his frames. “N-no! No problem at all. You know me—progressive thinker. Very supportive of… of developments. Personal… discoveries. Etcetera.”

Across the table, Kris finally speaks, their pencil clattering down in mock indignation. “Do I get any credit for this, or—Ow!”

Before they can finish the sentence, Susie’s arm shoots out and whacks them on the head with the back of her hand. It’s more of a dull tap than anything, but Kris recoils with theatrical offense.

“Dude, you’re gonna get us kicked out.” Susie says. She leans back in her chair and snakes an arm around Noelle’s shoulders. 

Kris rubs their head, grumbling into their hoodie. “So ungrateful. I can’t believe this.”

It had been Noelle’s suggestion not to make a big deal out of things, even if every cell in her body wants to run through the halls and announce that she has the best girlfriend in the universe. But the world is messy, and in her world, “the universe” includes her mother and her sister, and that complicates things more than she’s ready to handle. For now.

However, there are some exceptions, Kris and Berdly are two of her closest friends. Letting them in on the truth wouldn’t hurt. Then again, it doesn’t hurt to let them figure it out on their own either. 

It feels like fair payback for all their teasing.

Kris pokes Berdly’s arm with the eraser end of their pencil. It’s barely noticeable, but it doesn’t stop Berdly from swatting their hand away with the corner of his notebook.

“Stop that,” Berdly hisses through his teeth.

“I’m not doing anything,” Kris says, though they are very clearly now nudging Berdly’s elbow again and again.

“You’re trying to provoke me,” 

“If I wanted to provoke you, I’d bring up the spelling bee.”

That does it. Berdly lunges.

There’s the thud of a chair leg screeching across the floor, a muffled gasp from someone at the adjacent table, and the rustle of notebook paper scattering everywhere as Kris dramatically tumbles sideways, laughing silently while Berdly attempts to regain his balance mid-stride. 

In the middle of the commotion, Noelle snickers behind her sleeve.

Everything around her is still the same. Berdly’s yelling, Kris is half-pretending to die, and Susie is cheering for them to kick Berdly’s ass. The sun filters through the window, falling in bright patches on the floor. And yet, in a way, it all feels different.

Susie leans over, her eyes never quite leaving Noelle’s face. She’s breathless from laughing, and a little sweaty too. “You okay?”

Noelle nods, then tilts her head so it rests on top of Susie’s shoulder. “Yeah,” she says, and is surprised by just how much she means it. “I really am.”

Bonus

“Gosh, and then she said, I like you too, Noelle, and you're cute. Can you believe that?” Noelle squeaks into the phone, flopped stomach-first across her bed, legs kicking lazily in the air.

On the other end of the line, Kris yawns so loudly it crackles through the speaker. “Elly, it’s three in the morning.”

Noelle rolls onto her side, tucking the pillow closer beneath her chin. “Come on. This is payback for you sticking your weird little fingers into my date. It could’ve gone so badly, you know?”

She’s not actually angry, not even close, but there’s a principle at stake. If she doesn’t at least pretend to be annoyed, Kris will think they’re invincible and keep inserting themselves into her romantic life forever.

They make a noise somewhere between a groan and a laugh. “Whatever. I told you it was gonna be fine.”

Their voice is slurred with sleep, but Noelle can still hear the smugness creeping in.

“Anyway,” Kris continues, “how grounded are you?”

Noelle sighs, reaching out to switch off the little lamp on her nightstand. The darkness settles softly around her. “Very. But Mom would have an aneurysm before letting me miss school. I’ll just sneak out of class for a bit and then I could—”

“Actually, I take it back,” Kris says. “She’s right. Susie’s a terrible influence.”

“Oh, shut it. ”