Chapter Text
Alright. Maybe you could have thought through some things better.
Maybe you could have considered that Tuesday night wasn't exactly what you'd call a party night, not that the word “party” had anything to do with you on a regular basis.
Maybe you could have made an excuse when Fae invited you to her place and just stayed in your apartment watching 90s rom coms, cringing at the ones that didn't age well and putting those on your “never watch again” list with Grease. Grease was so much better when you were blissfully unaware of how to respect women.
Maybe you could have been responsibly working on your thesis, which you’re plenty excited about and already making good headway on. Sure it's not necessarily going to be anything life-changing, but if you can get it to work that would be satisfying enough for you.
So maybe going to this house party wasn't going to win decision-of-the-year, but the truth is, you've been kind of a hermit lately. That's all well and good until you inevitably start talking to yourself at all hours of the day and realize that you need to at least pretend you're a normal person. Besides, being social is a human necessity. Even the most introverted of introverts need occasional human contact, an unfortunate side effect of being a social species. Maybe it's not too late to turn into a tiger.
The thought strikes you as you're making your way up the stairs to Fae’s apartment, located conveniently above an Asian fusion restaurant with very good shrimp pad Thai. Convenient for draining your funds ordering delicious food, less convenient for having noisy neighbors–thankfully, not your neighbors.
After you've done the ritualistic knocking and the door opens shortly thereafter, you are not at all surprised to be greeted by Fae’s frilly costume skirt peacocking over a black leotard and a sheer light purple shawl hanging from her shoulders. Sparkles are covering her from head to toe, as always.
“You made it!”
“I made it,” you concede with a smile before Fae wraps her arms around you and you take the onslaught of glitter in stride with her squeals of approval.
“I'm so glad you're here, I have like a million things I still need to set up.” She releases you from her sparkly grasp with an innocent smile. “Help?”
You brighten instinctively. “Of course. What do you need?”
Fae’s apartment is already naturally decked out in all things Fae-related: candles, curtains, a himalayan salt lamp, various gems, Larry Dotter nostalgia, a dragon statue you’re certain is DnD-related but not knowledgeable enough to know anything more, some cozy throw pillows, blankets hanging on the back of the couch, a purple throw rug and various hanging items of intrigue. Smoke appears to be dissipating from a number of tiny decorative objects you can’t put a name to, and the apartment smells distinctly like cardamom. You desperately wish you could be this cool and you struggle to identify anything Fae would specifically need help with in preparing for the party.
Her body takes on a contrapposto as she lists off her items. “All the food that’s ready still needs to be arranged in the kitchen, the artichoke dip will be ready in five minutes and needs to cool, I need to put out the plates and cups and utensils, the bathroom is still covered in hair dye, I can’t decide if the alcohol should stay in or out of the fridge and I was thinking I should have music playing or do you think music would be too much? Maybe it would be too much. Nix the music. Oh and look! I made cookies!”
You briefly contemplate if Fae breathes through her ears to not lose consciousness when she talks. “Gingerbread or chocolate chip?”
“Gingerbread of course, it’s still winter.”
You can’t help your mouth watering a bit at the thought of gingerbread cookies warm from the oven. After establishing what needs to be done, you set off and get to work. Looking around, you’re certain that Fae went way harder than she needed to, but then that’s just how she is.
When the preparations are finished, it’s still just you and Fae in the apartment. You collapse with her onto the couch, waiting for the first arrivals.
“I don’t know how you manage to throw a house party and work on a PhD at the same time.”
Fae fixes her purple hair with a hand mirror. “It’s not like I’m hosting for fifty people. It’s just a few friends, maybe some extras. I told people to invite whoever needs a break.”
“Who’s coming again?”
Fae lists off a few names, most you don’t recognize and for those that you do you haven’t interacted with much. You suppose that means tonight you’ll have to break out of your shell and actually talk to people, if you can remember how.
It isn’t long after that the first guests show up. It’s a couple, Leo and Ann. Fae greets them both effusively as expected, introduces you and then offers up drinks and food as you all take a seat on the couch. You don’t make much conversation with Fae dominating the social sphere, but as she pulls Ann into a conversation about their shared PhD misery–you gather she and Ann share classes together–Leo looks fairly out of his element. You decide now is the time to put on a smile and do what you came here to do.
You cut over quietly to Leo and offer up a casual comment about the decor before asking him how he knows Fae. You’ve already figured out that he only knows her through Ann, but you also know asking him will break the ice. As you get on, you’re relieved to find out that he’s normal, friendly even. He asks about your area of study and you give him a brief snippet of it before turning the question on him and keeping it there. People are happy to talk about themselves, and you’re happy to hear them talk about themselves. It’s a win-win. You learn that he’s studying some branch of economics you know you’ll forget by the end of the night, but you listen intently and with appropriate interest. When you’ve exhausted that topic you ask about him and Ann, how long they’ve known each other, when they started dating, all that good stuff. You’re in the thick of conversation when Ann pulls him away to get drinks from the kitchen, and it’s only then that you realize the apartment is much busier than when you started talking to Leo.
You feel a little more anxious than before. Pulling out your social personality isn’t hard, but not having anyone to specifically talk to makes you feel on edge. Taking a breath, you force yourself to relax, then you look around the room and decide to people-watch. People-watching is always a good fallback for you, like you’re actually busy doing something when you’re not doing anything at all. At the very least it makes you feel less awkward and that’s good enough. The crowd seems to be an expected mix of weirdos, quirky derks and normies. Hard to expect anything else in a hippie area like this. You eavesdrop on a few conversations, gathering a few details you can bring up when you finally manage to directly interact with someone again, but then you notice someone new step in.
He’s a dirty blonde and almost as expressive as Fae, maybe even more so, with glasses and a colorful scarf hanging down around his neck that’s clearly a statement and not just for keeping warm. There’s a certain air–dare you say flair–he brings in with him that you can feel even from across the room, but then he steps in a little further, unveiling the view of the apartment door, and your attention is grabbed by what else he brought in with him.
A monster. A skeleton monster.
It’s only been a little over a year since the monsters came out of Mt. Ebott. The news hit you hard and fast as you’ve been studying at a university only a couple hours from the site itself. There was a huge rush of integrations, finding them places in human society, penances made for the ancestors of mankind who had banished them into the mountain for centuries. The overhaul was a surprisingly large effort from your country, the kind that briefly restored your faith in humanity until you realized that there were some major equality gaps and rampant monster racism running through many of the new policies. It wasn’t long before your own college town was teeming with new life, but as hippie as things were around here, not everyone around felt perfectly at ease with monsters. Things were still new, people still had so many questions, and… well to be frank, a lot of the monsters were just plain scary. Some were big and intimidating, like the King of Monsters, others smaller but aggressive, like the volcano monster you saw once on TV. Suffice to say, it hadn’t been all sunshine and roses and there were still concerns about monsters possessing magic. Dangerous magic.
Of all the things that threw you the most about the whole ordeal, it wasn’t the monsters or the story about the kid who helped free them from the barrier–it was coming to terms with magic being real. On the one hand, it’s a fantasy come true–who doesn’t want magic to be real? On the other hand, what did it mean for science? Did science still have a place in the world? A year later and the answer still seemed to be resoundingly “yes”. Once you got over your magic-crisis you’ve mostly just leaned into it being cool.
It’s a little hard to tell at first that the monster is a skeleton with his red hood up over his head, but you spend a little more time than normal sizing him up and yes, in fact, you can confirm he is a skeleton, albeit not quite like the ones you’ve seen in your anatomy class. At the very least, his head doesn’t quite meet skull expectations–do his zygomatic arches just blend in with the rest of his face?–and you get desperately curious about what it looks like when he talks, but as far as you can tell he doesn’t seem to say anything. His hands are in the pockets of his hoodie, too, so that ends any remaining threads of curiosity, save for his eyes: two gaping holes with red… eye… lights? Do you call them eye lights? They seem to dart from here to there as he glances around the room, looking more than a little uncomfortable. Not that you blame him–after all, he’s the only monster here and earning more than a few stares from the other party-goers. A sense of guilt suddenly washes over you for staring at him for so long yourself.
Shoving your shame away, you think perhaps you’ve found a kindred spirit in need of something to do at this party. You think of going up and talking to him, welcoming him in, making him feel comfortable, but then a voice pulls you out of your thoughts and back into the present. The present is apparently filled with a feathery hat and tall boots. One of Fae’s new friends who you’ve interacted with all of two vaguely memorable instances recognizes you, and you entertain a conversation with them about their newfound spiritualism. It always fascinates you to learn what people have discovered that you would probably never engage with yourself. Sometimes it ends with you acquiring a new hobby or interest, but more often than not you’re just happy to listen and learn.
The moment you’re free from feather hat’s clutches, you take another look around for the skeleton. You see him keeping close to the dirty blonde who has formed a small engagement group for the two of them. It’s hard to read his expression–is he tired? Annoyed? Bored? His eye lights appear to drift lazily around the room, maybe from person to person or puzzling through the decor, but you can’t tell for sure. Yeah, you’d guess he’s bored. Maybe this is your chance. You could get up from the couch and go over to the dirty blonde’s group, insert yourself a bit, pull some bravado from deep deeeeep down in the depths of your gut and strike up a conversation with him. It physically pains you to see him having a terrible time surrounded by a bunch of humans and you’re suddenly filled with a burst of determination.
…Which gets quickly squashed by another Fae-friend, this one who you’ve actually spent some time with, so you feel obligated to prioritize the conversation over your random flights of fantasy, which apparently involve helping random monsters feel comfortable at human house parties.
By the end of that conversation, you feel accomplished. You have been holed up in your research lab for a couple of weeks and now you can officially say that you have sufficiently socialized, your social quota has been met and you are cleared to go back into the hermitted grind at any time. You admit, though, that you find yourself enjoying the social air more than you thought you would, enough that you don’t feel compelled to leave just yet despite your innate introverted calling to solitude. It’s then that your stomach puts up a fuss and you realize you haven’t even touched any of the food or beverages you helped arrange in the kitchen. Without another thought, you head over to refill your energy reserves.
As you round the corner, you come face-to-face with the skeleton, his arm reaching into the fridge for what’s imaginably some sort of drink. The high you were already riding grows and you smile widely at him, ready to make a good first impression.
“Hey, drinks! Good ch-”
But then you stop. Something’s odd. The skeleton is staring at you. He's staring at you like you have three heads. That's not good. Is something wrong? Maybe there’s something on your cheek? Did your makeup smudge? But you're not wearing any makeup... Oh god is there a bug on you somewhere? Please don't let it be a bug.
Before you get carried away with more theories, you see his eye lights darting anxiously around your figure–up, then down, then up, then down. Then it dawns on you. He looks… scared. Like you're a threat. The smile slowly fades from your face.
Somehow, you've managed to botch this interaction within the first two seconds of it even existing. Of course he doesn't want to talk to you, he doesn't seem to want to talk to anyone here. You're all humans–the ones who put the monsters in the Underground to begin with. It's not like you haven't thought through that already. You feel something crawling up your back and it's definitely not a bug.
“Sorry.” You're apologizing. What are you apologizing for? Your existence? Humanity's sins? Opening your big mouth and letting words come out? “I'm just here for a drink.”
Your apology seems to snap the skeleton back from whatever horrors that are currently plaguing him.
“what?”
Oh. Oh dear god you have to explain yourself again.
“A drink?” You try. “Um.. you know actually I'll just.. It's fine!” Per the rules of social decency, you know you can't just enter and leave the kitchen without doing something, so you go to the counter and grab a gingerbread cookie and stuff it into your mouth. Brilliant idea. Now you have a reason not to talk. And now you look like a chipmunk. Truly brilliant. You dare not look at the skeleton as with great luck you find a Brita pitcher next to some Asian fusion dishes and pour yourself a water. Water is not your first choice, but it is the least awkward choice since the skeleton still isn't saying anything or offering to let you into the fridge and you can't seem to leave fast enough.
By the time you're ready to bail you do glance over at him once more. He's still staring at you like he's expecting you to explode any moment now. You're not sure how to feel about that as parts of you war with one another, one insisting that you deserve better and haven’t done anything out of the ordinary, and the other insisting that you've just bothered this guy for no reason and you should just let it go. But then there's a third part telling you that you can fix this. You can make things right. You just have to take off your awkward hat and put on your self-confident cloak. (You make a note to never say any of those words out loud.)
Okay, so you're doing this. You're going to fix things. You swallow what's left of the gingerbread cookie, wash it down with some water, and then open your mouth…
…which produces an undignified squeak as a sparkly hand grabs yours.
Fae cheerfully calls your name. “There you are! I've been waiting to introduce you to someone. Come on!” She briefly acknowledges the skeleton with a glance and a quick smile before tugging you away, back to the main area.
“Wait, Fae!”
“Shh shh shh you can thank me later.”
She pulls you over to a corner where a taller man sips from a red solo cup. He has curly, light brown hair, chocolate eyes and a short but noticeable ‘stash beneath his nose. The first phrase that comes to your mind is “surfer dude”. You realize then that Fae did actually have someone she wanted to introduce you to.
She says your name, introducing you to “Rohn”. He makes it very clear that his name is spelled with an “h” and you can already feel the awkward vibes seeping from his ears. Even with the twelve different scented candles and five varieties of incense wafting in the apartment, you can tell he's pungent. What you can't tell is if it's from lack of hygiene or natural. You courteously don't make a guess. Unfortunately, this is your specialty and you assume that’s why Fae brought you over here.
“It’s nice to meet you,” you say.
“Yeah, same.”
“So.. what do you study here?” You notice that Fae has bailed and brought you from one awkward situation to another. Still, it’s probably better than trying to make amends with a monster you’ve clearly offended by breathing the same air.
“Oh, I just live in town now. I don’t go to school anymore.”
“Where’d you go before?”
“Here, but it was undergrad.”
“Oh, I see. That’s cool.”
“Yeah, now I work at the movie theater.”
“That must be nice! You probably get a lot of discounts on movies.”
“Yeah actually it’s really nice, I get popcorn and free tickets and…”
You feel a little bad about your first impression of Rohn. Maybe you just thought he was awkward, but the conversation seems to flow okay and… oh… oh no wait… he’s going on for too long. You nod, you nod again. There’s nowhere for you to cut in. Now he’s doing that awkward pause thing. He doesn’t know what to say or how to continue the conversation and you’re going to have to pick it up or risk a lot of ambient, awkward tension.
“So you live in town?”
He gives a grunt of acknowledgement. “Nearby actually. Where do you live?”
Despite having basically asked the same question, it’s a little direct for your taste and you debate on how to answer.
“Just an apartment. Not like the university offers any grad student housing.”
“Ah yeah, I getcha.” You’re exceedingly grateful when Rohn doesn’t press for any further information on your living arrangements. Without seeming too eager and before he can ask about your in-progress doctorate, you move conversation to his interests and easily identify his main areas of focus: chilling and weed. The word “stereotype” flashes in bright lightbulb letters in your mind and you remind yourself not to make assumptions as a general philosophy, despite any surfer dude vibes you may have received before. It isn't that you have any negative associations–you just like to remember that people are layered.
After an appropriate amount of conversation, you check yourself out into listening to a larger conversation and Rohn seems to follow. You manage to incorporate him and yourself into the group before dipping back out to the kitchen for some space. It’s a great relief when you only find a couple making out sloppily against the wall. Carefully, you acquire some variety of lemon soda from the fridge and make your way back to the common area. You relax against a wall and go back to people-watching, your favorite party activity.
Everyone seems to be in good spirits. Some are a little tipsy–ha, spirits, tipsy–but it only seems to add to a comfortable vibe, which you know Fae is always going for. It’s only by chance–definitely not because you’re specifically looking–that your gaze wanders to find the skeleton in the masses. You blink as your eyes meet two red eye lights so briefly that you don’t even know if you could confidently say that they met. Within the span of that blink, the skeleton’s eyes have focused on some conversation with a group that’s out of earshot for you. Was he staring at you? You decide now is the time to perform a social experiment and watch him to see if he looks at you again. A few seconds into this plan, you realize you’ll probably come off as a creepy stalker yourself and you immediately abandon it.
You decide instead to observe some other folk before checking to see where the skeleton is looking again. When your gaze returns to him, he’s engaged in conversation with the wildly expressive–flamboyant? Is that also stereotyping? You need to stop–dude he came in with. You feel silly for thinking he was looking at you and your ego takes a rightful blow.
As the humility washes over you, you lift your head and this time you do see someone staring at you: Rohn. There isn’t any question about if he’s staring at you or not, he’s just blatantly staring at you even if you look away and then look back. There’s no attempt from him to hide the fact that you’re on his radar and you feel goosebumps zing up your back and down your shoulders. You suddenly wish you had the ability to disappear. Despite that, you offer him your friendliest smile before turning your attention somewhere else–as polite as an “I’m busy right now, don’t talk to me” as you can muster.
Luckily, you’re pulled into a conversation before he has the chance to come over and strike up anything directly with you, although he does saunter over and join your new group. The night goes on and you stick with group conversation, able to add in a little something every now and then and never having to commit to any one-on-one interaction. You let the extraverts do the work and find safety in numbers.
Someone’s alarm goes off and you suddenly realize how late it’s gotten. Looking around the room, most people seem to have gone home with only one or two passed out on a couch or chair. With a quick assessment and a little disappointment, you determine that the skeleton monster must have bounced too. But not Rohn. Rohn is still here, sipping casually out of his red solo cup. At least he’s not staring at you, but you’re nervous about giving him the chance to speak to you again, alone and without an out.
Just then a hacking noise captures your attention. You immediately follow it to the bathroom where you find a very woozy Fae throwing up into the toilet, glitter flaking around the bowl.
“Whoa!” You rush to get her hair out of the way.
“No no I’m fine, I’m–I don’t understand.” She says your name with exhaustion. “I didn’t drink anything tonight, I swear. I can’t even have much of that stuff to begin with.” Another hacking sound and another round of vomit enters the toilet. You panic for a moment, wondering if someone drugged one of her drinks, but then you pull yourself together, ready to take this on logically.
“When did you start feeling this way?”
“Just now.”
“What did you eat or drink tonight.”
“Just some tea and the food, nothing weird. I haven’t even smoked a blunt.”
You stare at her for a moment, really taking in her face. She looks tired and scared. It’s clear she’s not drunk, just lost. You soothingly brush more hair from her cheek and that’s when you notice them.
“Hey… you have hives on your cheek.”
“What?”
Your fingers gently brush them. You’re no medical expert, but you can recognize an allergic reaction when you see one.
“Are they itchy?”
“No. I can’t even feel them.”
“I’m going to get you some Yenadryl from the store.”
“But I’m not allergic to anything.”
“Well it’s either that or food poisoning, but you definitely have hives.” She groans, unable to fight you on it.
“Alright I’ve just never taken that stuff before. I don’t know what it does and I react weirdly to things sometimes.”
“It’s over-the-counter. I’ll get you some and if you don’t want to take it, you don’t have to.”
“...Okay.”
“Just hang in here for a bit. I’ll be right back.”
“‘Kay.”
You gingerly let her hair fall to her back and head out the door. You tell the remaining party-goers that the party is over and it’s time to head on home. No one seems to be overtly drunk except maybe that one guy and that one girl passed out on the furniture. You decide you’ll deal with them when you get back from the store.
Everyone who can files out except Rohn. He stays back and asks if you need someone to walk you home. It’s both a sweet gesture and one that makes your stomach feel uneasy. You’re still not really sure how to feel about this guy. You tell him that you’re actually staying over Fae’s tonight so you’re good to go. He suggests that he could stay overnight with you and you internally cringe, sensing that he doesn’t realize what kind of boundaries that would be breaking, not just for you, but for Fae too. You assure him that it’s fine and not really your call and that finally seems to be enough to send him on his way. Once he’s out, you wait a few minutes before getting yourself to a drug store and stocking up on some allergy meds.
You spend the rest of the night holding back hair and medicating your very sick friend. Definitely not decision-of-the-year, but being here for Fae made the whole party worth it.
By 2AM, you and Fae are curled up together in her bed, fast asleep. For now, you’ve put the thought of scared skeletons behind you.