Chapter Text
one
“Save me y/n, help me please!” Rae screams, falling further and further away, tumbling down through an abyss of darkness. You blink and the scene changes to a school bathroom, pills scattered everywhere – over the floor, the counter, everything. You are washing your hands at the basin, scrubbing and scrubbing, but the more you do so, the more blood starts to appear in your hands. You look up at the mirror, only to be greeted with Rae’s face, pale skin, bloodshot eyes, looking exactly how you last remember her.
“Why didn’t you save me y/n?” She asks. “Why didn’t you notice and stop me? Did you want me to die?”
“No no no, Rae I swear - I love you I promise!” You hold your hands out to the mirror pleadingly but as soon as your hands make contact, she disappears, leaving nothing but bloodstains on the mirror. “Rae? RAE!” You cry.
“Wake up y/n/n. It’s just a dream okay?” A familiar voice sounds in your ear, and you realise you are being shaken awake gently. “Rae is okay, wherever she is. She can’t get hurt again.”
“It’s all my fault,” you sob, falling into your dad’s warm embrace.
“Shhh,” he whispers, rocking you back and forth. “No it isn’t. Don’t dishonour her memory by blaming yourself. Rae wouldn’t want that.”
You don’t reply, instead clinging tighter to your dad’s shirt, uncaring about the snot that’s getting all over it.
“I thought I was getting better,” you sniff. “I haven’t had the nightmares in over a month.”
“You are getting better, it’s okay y/n,” your dad reassures you. “The road to healing isn’t just a straight line, it goes all over the place. You’ll have good days and bad days.”
“Sounds like you got that off the internet,” you try to joke weakly.
“How’d you know? I tried so hard to make it seem like I didn’t.” He takes the poor attempt of humour and runs with it, lightening the mood.
“Thanks, dad,” you sigh into his shirt.
“It’s okay. I love you, pea,” he whispers back, making you smile at the familiar term of endearment.
“Love you too.”
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You open the door to your locker, admiring the graffiti job some random student did on it, looks like they tried to make it look extra hurried today. Serial killer it reads, making you sigh – if they’re going to making your life hell, they could at least do it creatively; no point in using the same insults. Rolling your eyes in an attempt to pretend you’re unbothered (not that anyone cares either way), you grab out the books you need for your next – and favourite – class; psychology.
You make your way down the hall, pretending you don’t hear the usual whispers that follow you.
“Psychopath-”
“Freak-”
“Just like her mum-”
Okay, that last one hurt.
You drop your desks loudly on a desk in the middle of the room, causing the teacher (the only other occupant of the learning space) to look up at you briefly, before returning to her work. The door opens again not even two minutes later, this time giving way for a stream of students, all too caught up in conversations with each other to give you the usual suspicious death glare. Hooray.
You lean on the table, head in your hands, wishing you could just ignore what everyone says – or even better, for them to stop. Tough luck with that. Seriously, you’re in your senior year! Surely someone must have matured slightly by now.
The scrunched up ball of paper that hits your head seconds before the teacher turns around tells a different story.
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“Hey Mike,” you greet your supervisor, a customer service smile already on your face.
“Hi y/n, how was school?” Mike asks as you make your way to the change rooms and get dressed in your uniform.
“Eh. Same old, same old,” you shout over the stall door. “How’s Malee going?” You inquire as you leave the stall, now wearing your waitress uniform. You watch with a small smile as Mike’s eyes light up immediately at the mention of his partner.
“Better. Pissed as hell he can’t be working in the kitchen, but that’s what happens when you fall off a ladder and break your wrist.”
“Shame, he’s always been the better cook.”
“Don’t let Trey hear you say that, he might quit his job.”
“He knows I’m right.” You joke with a shrug.
“You‘ve made sure of that,” Mike smiles, before giving you a light push towards the door that leads to the actual restaurant lady. “Now go, make the customers happy.”
“Sir, yes sir!” You give him a mocking salute before walking through the entrance and getting to work.
Your shift, from 4 to 10, starts off light, as usual (no one really wants a Thai dinnerbefore dinner), but by the time it gets around 6, business starts to kick up a bit. You run (well, walk quickly) around the restaurant, receiving and giving out orders, greeting the regulars – nothing new.
Before you know it, it’s 7 o’clock and your most frequent (and favourite, but you’re not supposed to have those) customers are entering: Peter and May Parker.
“How’s my favourite tech genius going?” You ruffle Peter’s hair as you come up next to their table, May watching the familiar interaction with a smile. “Still top of the class?”
“In every one except History and English.”
“That’s still MJ’s domain?”
“Yeah,” the 15-year-old sighs, wrinkling his nose, somehow managing to look both disgruntled about the fact and happy for MJ at the same time.
“So what’d you burn this time, Ms May?” You ask her jokingly, the nickname being an inside joke from when you first met her at the restaurant.
“Lasagne,” comes her reply, as she laughs self-deprecatingly. “I don’t even know why I try attempting to cook it anymore, it’s clearly not going to work.”
You shrug – she’s not wrong. Her lasagne attempts are probably the ones that go wrong the most (or just end up worse than all the others).
“Shall I just get you guys the usual?” You ask.
“That’d be great.” The nurse smiles and you nod, heading off to give Trey their order. Straight after you take the order of another table, their order is ready – Trey probably had it pre-prepared given May’s well-known cooking skills – or rather, lack of.
“Pad Thai for the lady, larb for the boy,” you announce dramatically, placing their dishes on the table. You can only shrug at Peter’s indignant look as you call him a boy. “You still look like a baby,” you explain. Peter looks to May for help, only for her to raise her eyebrows and scoop up some of her meal.
“It’s true,” she shrugs, before taking a bite. Before Peter can object you bid them a good evening, joking about how you’ll probably see them tomorrow.
3 hours later, the restaurant closes, your shift finally finished.
“See you tomorrow, Mike, Trey!” You call out as you exit through the back, already changed into your clothes from earlier.
“See ya!” Mike shouts back, Trey echoing his reply.
With a soft sigh, you heave your school bag onto your back and start the walk home.
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“Hey, y/n,” Your dad’s sombre voice calls out as you enter the apartment. “Good day at school and work?”
“As good as it can be, considering it isschool,” you say, dropping your school bag by the front door, before taking your homework and crappy laptop out of it. “At least it’s Friday today.”
“Fair, fair,” He concedes, nodding. You walk into the living room, where your dad sits on the couch. “Can you have a seat for a minute?” He asks you.
“Sure, just give me a sec to put these in my room.” You rush to your room, place everything on your desk before coming back out and sitting next to your dad. “What’s up?”
He heaves a massive sigh, before passing you a letter you didn’t realise he was holding until now.
NOTICE TO VACATE
Dear Ed y/l/n,
You are hereby notified to vacate these premises within the next 7 days.
The reason for giving this notice is as follows:
Repeated inability to meet rent requirements by the agreed-upon date with the landlord.
As stated in the lease, this violation is grounds for eviction. You are hereby notified to vacate, and your failure to do so within 7 days will force me to initiate eviction proceedings-
You skim-read the rest of the letter, the panic in your brain preventing the words from settling in properly.
“We’re being… evicted?” You whisper, only to receive a solemn nod in response as your dad closes his eyes.
“Look, pea,” he sighs, placing his head in his hands. “I didn’t want to have to bother you with this, but money has been extra tight recently. The rent’s gone up a bit, and with how overstaffed the shop is, they’re not giving me enough hours. I’ve found an apartment a bit further away. It’s a lot cheaper, and luckily it’s on the other side of the school so you won’t have to switch.” He tries to smile, but it comes out more as a grimace.
“We couldn’t even hold a funeral for Rae,” you mutter. “And now we’re getting an eviction? Surely you can ask your boss for more hours. He’d listen if you told him about our situation, right?”
Your dad grimaces for real this time. “Everyone at the shop is in the same boat as us, trying to keep their families afloat. And unfortunately, because it’s just the two of us, we’re a bit further down on the priority list.”
You put your head in your hands. “This fucking sucks.”
“Language,” he scolds you, ever the responsible parent.
“You sound like Captain America in one of his stupid PSAs.”
“Because that’s exactly what I wanted to hear right now.”
“How about this?” You steer the topic back on track. “We’ll move house, fine, no problem. I don’t work Sundays, Tuesdays and every second Wednesday, I’ll see if I can apply for some other jobs, that are okay with those times, or maybe take place before school so we can get some extra income, and then we can go from there. With the cheaper rent, it should be a bit easier, right?”
“Hopefully,” Your dad agrees. “I’m sorry you have to do this.”
“It’s okay.” You kiss him on the head as you stand up, heading back to your room. “Better both of us than just you carrying the weight of it. See you tomorrow morning, I’ll see if I can get some last-minute job interviews for then.”
“Sounds like a plan. G’night sweet pea, love you.”
“‘Night dad, love you too.”
You make your way into your room, immediately opening up your cheap laptop and starting a search for any available casual or part-time jobs nearby.
You lodge applications and register for interviews, whether they be tomorrow or within the next few weeks until your eyes are drifting shut of their own accord. Before you know it, you’ve got at least ten interviews lined up over the next few weeks and you’re asleep at your desk. Hopefully, they won’t turn you down the second they see your last name.
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