Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Glossary/Index - chapter 1?
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Shrumpled
(shru-m-ple-d)
Def:
A piece of clothing or fabric crumpled up in-a ball state or being massively stained or disgusting.
Ex:
Her clothes in their dresser were shrumpled.
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Shragging
(shr-a-ging)
Def:
A state of grumpily/berichiling getting out something, (most of the time money), and handing it to somebody.
Ex:
Jessie shrugged 3 dollar bills out of her purse.
Smaller word:
Shrag
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Chapter Text

Across the memories field I see a husk shadow of I, filled with joy and cheerness to bring, if only we could switch places, maybe these scars would swoon away.

Fresh woke up tightly hugging his pillow. A puddle of sweat and blood had combined around his wrists, permanently staining his mattress. He shuffled around, shoving his disgustingly warm pillow off of him, it had stains of light violet purple (plausibly from crying), the part he was laying on still cold from recent tears. Although he rarely cried, when they did it was an awful gob-stream of tears that would continue through their sleep, leaving them the next morning drenched in salty tears. Through the past couple of years, his room has progressively gotten messier. Some of his books that were once on the shelfs were now thrown off in a pit of rage, clothes having some tears in them, and a couple bottles of water shoved randomly around their room. Usually he would never let it get this messy, but times have changed, their family has changed.

He carefully stepped onto a shrumpled up shirt, this one particularly having a heavy smell of frosted flakes cereal (somehow)? They sauntered over to their dresser, grudgingly opening his dresser. Most of their shirts were neon colored, but today he wanted to wear a bit of a toned down sweater, it was Autumn so things were getting chilly, and they didn't have any neon colored sweaters or long sleeves. But, wanting to still have to color on him, they slipped on a green, blue, and pink jacket with orange polka dots. Now having a good picture of their surroundings, he carelessly walked to the door of his room leisurely opening the door. There was no gracefulness in this opening as the door compelled a ginormous creaking sound, or maybe his ear drums were just weak, as it seemed no one else had awoken.

Fresh steadily made his way downstairs, grabbing his backpack, a bowl of cereal (frosted flakes ofc), a signed signature paper, and a slinky for good measure. All of these things, except the cereal, went into their backpack; most likely to be forgotten.

He finished up his cereal, then booked it out the front door. During the mornings Fresh made the best time he could to get to the 7-7 and back by 7:30, as thats the time they go to school. The 7-7 was a bit of a walk from his house, so he had to hurry. They grabbed their skateboard, hopping on it. Fresh now having his skateboard would make due time no prob. The cold morning dewie air brushed up against the deep routed bruises located on his arms. It felt nice as he rolled through the neighbrohood. Usually, Deccy Dec would be awake right now, waiting for them to stroll by, but today he was not at the window watching. Fresh felt a hint of worry arise, but it quickly dawdled out as he neared the 7-7.

Fresh entered the 7-7, waving to the cashier. The cashier had expected him, since Fresh comes by so often it would be hard not to. On mornings the cashier (Kasandra) would not see him, a gut wrenched feeling would churn in the ladies stomach. Most of the time that's when he’d turn up the next day with an oversized sweatshirt and long baggy sweatpants, (which he got from Decans). He made way to the candy shelves, grabbing some rainbow strips and dew dew soda. He ruffled through his pockets, shragging out a 5 dollar bill and 3 cents. The cashier took the money, stuffing it into the plum filled register. She handed the 3 cents back to him, as the 5 dollars covered it alone. Kasandra gave a soft smile to the kid, wavering him off out of the store, as she knew he had places to be.

Fresh bounded back onto his skateboard, hurrying his way back to the house, hoping it was not 7:00AM yet.

(end.)