Survival Of The Fittest

The lights were mostly off. If they were on the fairy lights dancing behind Cedar's eyes like the worlds most low brightness low saturation off color rave show would get a good deal more tempo going to them, all the way up through the wrong side of her skull as they burned her out. In short, light sensitivity was a bitch. Migraines were a god damn bitch. Now there was nothing inherently wrong with bitches of course, Tenshi her beloved was a bitch ascendant, the prize winning dog in the show. But the agony creeping through her gray matter like fingers of an undergraduate poking and prodding as they sweat bullets over their upcoming anatomy midterm, that was the sort of bitch Cedar could simply not even. The sort of bitch that stole her verbs. And her homecoming night.

((Cedar Dalisay's... Friend? More than? Thread 5))

Through the shuttered blinds and gossamer curtain a car slowly revving down a suburban street reenacted the Doppler effect, its high beams briefly a solar flare of a spotlight right atop her second story window before vanishing as quick as it’d come.

Cedar kept her face firmly wedged under a pillow. Her lifeline to one side, a perpetually partially charged Samsung Galaxy S10, its screen cold as the heat death of the universe, hiding a wallpaper of chad Jollibee enjoyers (the nearest still four hours away) spread in a chaotic array over Jayson’s living room couch. Hiding also the dozens of messages bundled across her anxiety-inducing amount of active social media accounts that would be temporarily ignored and promptly caught up on the moment Cedar was blessed with freedom from the throb of a full construction crew trying to bust out of her skull.

Quiet with only her own thoughts to keep her company. She’d expected to be much busier tonight in the platonic sense.

It’d happened so suddenly she was still pretty sure it hadn’t actually happened. Like the waking moments right after a dream where reality was present but definitely not what had just been happening. One moment she’d been idly musing over her plans to ask out Daniel to homecoming in a definitely friendly and not at all sad and lonely sort of manner, and she’d had probably had at least three drafts of the message she’d send him cumulative between their Instagram DMs and their Discord DMs. Casual like jeans to a workplace. Cool like scientists in Antarctica. She’d been trying, dammit.

And then she’d… how had it come up? It’d been so low key, again, she was positive it had only been an idle daydream it had been that lacking in dramatic impetus. She’d thought he was cute. She’d asked him out on a lark. He’d said yes. She’d said cool.

Very down to earth chain of events. It lacked romance or the precious feeling that was one of the best highs on earth- lonely, emotionally frigid boys opening up to her and only her. Her one true drug.

She guessed Fitz wasn’t that kind of guy. He was weird, sure, but in a very pleasant and mild way. Not much of a song to sing about the love story between them. It probably wasn’t even any particular flavor of love or infatuation, save the kind of bland and reliable synthetic vanilla one. She… didn’t know if she liked it yet. It was comfortable though. Bedsheets gently used.

She willed herself to sleep and failed for the hundredth time. The magic words she oft repeated in these trying times: shut the fuck up you stupid neurons. It was annoying having to lie here and think about stuff without being able to actually do anything. Being alone with her thoughts was never fun- they tended to be too small and wimpy to take up much space in her brain. That real estate was made for at least two, if not more.

She hoped her friends were having fun. Pictures optional. Fitz said he’d stop by at some point- she hoped that only happened when and if he was ready to abandon the party for his alleged girlfriend who was a dork with enough bad genetics that pugs looked upon her with pity.

((Russell 'Fitz' Fitzroy continued from i can't hear the fireworks))

Fitz had been mildly disappointed with the whole homecoming night so far, in all honesty. There was, of course, the obvious drawback of ‘new girlfriend couldn’t go because of migraines.’ He’d known that was a possibility straight up, though. Cedar was known for often having to flake on plans, and it couldn’t be helped.

But on top of that, the raccoons hadn’t even been raccoons. Raccoon furries were not what had been promised as part of Rebekah’s pitch. Though he supposed it was a decent consolation prize.

(He’d intentionally blurred the focus on his camera a little when Rebekah had started crying. He wasn’t sure why she’d been crying so hard – it didn’t quite feel like tears of joy, maybe she knew that the people wanted rabies for real – but he wouldn’t want footage of himself crying out there, so it felt the polite thing to do.)

He hadn’t worn anything special to homecoming, and had left soon after catching some footage of the raccoon festivities. He’d stopped at the store, and now he was here. A paper bag from the store in one hand, laptop bag over his back (in which was tucked both his laptop, mostly filled with misc notes on conspiracy theories, and the camera he’d recorded homecoming with). Lightly tapping on Cedar’s door, as lightly as he could get away with while still being heard.

She was reluctant for a moment, but it immediately melted away. Nectars of the gods, endorphins, dopamine, a bit of adrenaline because why not. With their powers combined... she could get out of bed, albeit at the pace of a slug passive aggressively turning its' back to its' friends and slowly walking away expecting them to call out for it at any moment.

She hadn't expected him this early. Mom must have stayed home instead of helping Dad bring Jacob to his evening game, or else nobody would have been answering that door when Fitz knocked.

Cedar's own door, dismally lit as the hall lights had been left off on her behalf, swung open. The gremlin that presented itself on the other side was dead eyed, eyes crusted over, stale smell from the evening spent marinating in her own bedsheets. Sweater on top of black and mint green checkered pajamas- Demon Slayer reference, not that anybody had asked. Still, she was smiling with more life than she'd had to be escorted, statue like, to the nurses office during their shared fourth period Stats class.

"We can turn on, like. One light." A cursory offer, but she didn't imagine he'd be interested in taking it. "Sorry about the mess. I've been up for a while." She had been, that much was true. She was hoping he'd take the offer and hold her a bit, sweaty as she was with her frazzled shrubbery of a hairdo oily with her suffering she was also still too cold.

"Watch your step coming in, I might have knocked over the ants house in my barely coherent moments." She hadn't... that she could remember, but her own memory was ideally not to be trusted when she was in a fugue of this severity. Moderate chronic pain, she could handle it. This was... advanced. "How went it? Who'd you manage to troll while you were there?" It was well established, these few weeks into their relationship, that he was allowed to sit or lie wherever. She picked the floor by her bed, lounging with stiff neck resting against the side for any sort of relief.

“Nah, the lights are fine off. Don’t wanna blare your eyes out or nothing.”

It hadn’t been that long since they’d gotten close, but Fitz knew the verbal signal for cuddles. He wasn’t physically crafted for hugs, being all bony limbs, and this went double because of him being over a foot taller than her. Still, he could try.

“The ants look fine from here. I can move them if you’re worried.”

He sat down on the floor next to her, resting similarly against the bed. He put his things down before he wrapped one arm around her. She was sweaty as all hell and that was kind of gross, but that’s fine. He would have used both arms, but he was currently rummaging in the shopping bag with the other hand.

“I didn’t really do much trolling. Just got some footage. You’ll be happy as I am disappointed to know that I did not get rabies, on account of Rebekah only supplying fake raccoons,” Fitz said. “How’s the noggin? You look less terrible, kind of.”

He managed to retrieve a chocolate bar before dropping it in her lap. He wasn’t sure if she was about it, but chocolate was soothing for a lot of people, right?

The ants were fine. The moment he said it she actually believed what she already knew. Her eyes weren't that bad- if she avoided focusing for too long on any specific thing, lest the ripples of dizziness start to capsize her pool floatie of a body. She'd seen it, but he needed to say it before she finally allowed herself to feel relief.

"Fake? Dang, I was hoping she'd pull through. Wasted vote."

She said it with a smile. Smiled, likewise, the moment after she realized what Fitz had gotten for her.

"Can't go for much in this state but a little should be fine. Right?"

She confirmed it with him, eye to eye, before she went for it. One square. Processed fat supply for a week. It'd been too long. For a moment she looked lighter than the chain and ball of her mortality. She didn't chew once- she'd let the little nibble melt in her mouth. Clinging onto that moment until it was gone, reduced to enzymes in her mouth. The rest of the bar she shoved back at him, teasing his lower lip with a quick poke and prod.

"Would you say I missed out? You are back way earlier than I expected." A sigh. "I know our school budget is bad for the fiscal year but I didn't expect it'd be this lame."

"Oh, right, uh... sorry, should have grabbed something you can eat more of."

Fitz snapped a bit of chocolate off the bar as well, smiling slightly when she prodded him.

"Eh, it was, y'know, fine. Figured you could use the company more. Anyhoo..."

Fitz picked up his camcorder, most commonly used for trying to film for ghosts. He entered the menu, finding the small list of thumbnails of the night.

"Figured words don't mean as much as proof - ghost hunting 101, y'know - so I got you some footage. Between that and the snacks... I mean, I'd blast some jazz but I don't think that'll help you much."

"You would have come back empty handed then."

Honestly even Cedar sometimes didn't entirely understand the nuances of her numerous health issues- they seemed to shift overnight, without overtime pay. It was one of those things where she was so tired of explaining it, the amount of different memos she'd posted on Facebook and Discord and TikTok and Insta and on literal post it notes stuck to the fridge, it had become background noise. Not much of a priority to keep people updated, even when it was literally her own health at stake. She was tired of being the lifelong middleman between her doctors and her loved ones. She was as tired of her doctors being part of her family, she saw them that often.

Cedar hoisted herself up onto the bed slowly, creeping like moss, already a bit out of breath by the time she reached her apex. Definitely attractive and sexy, the sweaty girl already nauseous after two seconds of not-strenuous activity. Cedar knew better than to blame herself or be self-conscious of her tendency to have prolonged periods of being less than picturesque, but still... boyfriend, right there. Casual as their relationship was she was only human, and humans lived with the original sin of vanity.

"If the audio's as good as your average ghost hunting cam I'll finally know the world Tenshi experiences without her aids." She curled up like a cat atop her bedcovers, finding the most comfortable and least stiff angle for her to look at the footage.

"Jazz might, to be honest. I've been getting into that more jazzy, highbrow kind of rap recently."

“Bummer,” Fitz said. “That sucks.”

How did Cedar even live? Fitz just had a tendency to consume what was closest when he remembered to eat, although he was perpetually blessed/cursed with the inability to be anything other than a string bean with bones.

“I don’t know any specific songs, uh… but that’s what Youtube compilations are for, right?” He left the camcorder within Cedar’s view, pressed play – it was a small screen, but getting it off the thing would have required extra time – and in the meantime he started googling on his phone for jazz playlists.

Most of the footage was from a stand-by point without getting too close. A quick scroll over people who were dancing, or talking, or whatever. Fitz hadn’t wanted to weird anyone out too much. Yes, he was usually down to weird anyone out, but this was more a drive-by weirdening than dedicated weirdness. Though perhaps hanging out in the corner with a camcorder was worse.

Though there were a few people in the footage that noticed, since he’d gotten close enough to Rebekah and Lily that they’d waved and, in Rebekah’s case, blown kisses proper-prom-queen-style. Camera had followed her for a bit, including as she nearly bowled Ethan over, because Fitz had been spying for glimpses of the raccoons.

God he was disappointed still. He deserved a little rabies, as a treat.

Fitz continued to cycle for jazz playlists on Youtube. Though the noise on his camera was good enough that some of the music was escaping into the room. It might not be necessary for him to find anything on Youtube at all.