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"Something is... weird,"
Gidel glances up from his coloring paper, red crayon in one fist, blue in the other, crushed in an iron grip as if they might try to escape.
"No, no, not the curtains," Fellow answers for him, eyeing the floral drapery.
"And it's not the new throw pillows, either, even though those are an eyesore, what was the Prefect thinking? No, not that. Something's just... off. I can feel it."
Five feet in front of the pair, Rollo Flamme is pacing back and forth, mumbling profanities under his breath about that "Wicked, foul, impetuous" Malleus Draconia (his words, not Fellow's). Five feet behind them, the ghost of Skully J. Graves is chasing a black centipede with his Halloween blueprints clutched between its pincers.
Fellow rubs his chin.
"Must be a draft or 'somethin,"
"...And what disrespect to the entire establishment!" Rollo growls, kicking a footstool out of frustration, stopping to set it back in place, and then resuming his pacing.
Fellow snaps his fingers. "I got it! Prefect's not back yet,"
Gidel only shakes his head and returns to his coloring page. The front door opens not five seconds after.
"Dinner's here!" Yuu shouts, a paper takeout bag in each arm. Grim the grumpy direbeast shakes the freshly cut grass off his summer coat, the scent of flowers coming off him (a big improvement from his normal smell, Fellow thinks).
"Oh, finally, I'm starving!" Fellow says, which is the exact same thing he says every night, even when he's the one cooking. He comes into the kitchen, shoving Rollo to the side on the way, and plops down at the table.
"Sorry we're so late," Yuu says, distributing plastic dishes of dinner (yummy, yummy dinner) from the inauthentic Italian place that Fellow is so fond of. Grim paws at their legs, trying to wriggle his fat little body into their lap. Gidel gives him a boost before sitting next to Fellow.
"Town was crazy busy tonight. Must be an event or something."
"Why, Prefect, I'm astonished!" Skully says, sitting at the table with everyone else, though he doesn't eat (he just likes to feel included). Yuu allows this, even though it's creepy and weird to have a dead person at the dinner table. "Don't you know! It's 167 days until Halloween! Everyone's getting ready!"
Rollo sighs, rolling his eyes. Yuu passes him the garlic knots, which he turns down in favor of his sad, flavorless plain penne with butter.
Fasting is what he calls it. Fellow thinks self-inflicted torture is better.
"Skully, I assure you that no one but yourself is concerned about Halloween at this time of year," he turns to address Yuu, as if the others weren't even there (he does this a lot). "There's a circus in town. Headmage Crowley sent a newsletter about it."
Yuu raises an eyebrow. "Crowley sent a letter encouraging students to go to the circus?"
"No, he asked them not to cut class to go to the circus,"
"Ah,"
Fellow rolls his eyes and piles a second serving of spaghetti onto Gidel's plate before he's even had a bite.
"A little fun won't kill them, you know," he says.
Rollo narrows his eyes. "If anything, fun is the very last thing these students need more of. Why, just today, in defensive magic, Malleus Draconia blah blah blah, blah blah..."
Fellow tunes out Rollo's mad rant, forking a meatball on his plate and fitting the whole thing in his mouth. Yuu gives a garlic knot to the centipede that was tormenting Skully earlier, and it drags the savory side dish into the vents.
He blinks.
He snaps his fingers.
That's it! He thinks, but doesn't say, because Rollo's still on about Malleus Draconibutt or whatever his name is, and Yuu is telling Skully not to give Grim too much ricotta because he gets night farts.
Fellow looks from side to side, grabs Gidel's shoulder, and then swiftly ducks the two under the table.
"I've got it!" he whisper-shouts. "The weird thing! The reason why we don't quite fit in here yet, Giddy!"
Gidel nods.
"No, it is NOT because I smell like onions! Pay attention! The reason is that everyone here has a rival but you and me!"
Gidel scratches his ear.
"This is nothing to do with my relationship to my mother! Stay on topic! Look- Rollo and Malleus, Ghost Boy and the bug- everyone here's got more to talk about because they're always fighting some other guy!"
Gidel just blinks.
"Exactly! We've lost our spark, Giddy! We've got to get it back to earn our place at the table, you hear? We'll never fly under the radar without it! I bet they already suspect us! I bet they're conspiring against us right now!"
Yuu, Rollo, and Skully watch the top of the table and wait in silence for the two to stop whisper-shouting and come up for dessert (tiramisu, if you were wondering).
Fellow scratches his chin. "We's got to find a proper rival- not just a bar fight that I'd totally win, a real, proper rival! The question is, who...?"
Gidel tucks a hand in his pocket and shows Fellow the coloring page he'd been scribbling on earlier, the word "DAMNATION" written in perfect print.
"No, no, not Rollo, he's already got a guy, remember? Your penmanship is coming along nicely though, keep working on that and you'll be a proper forger one day,"
Gidel beams. Fellow snaps his fingers.
"I got an idea,"
Ace Trappola is not walking to class.
It's Saturday, after all, and he's got nothing better to do since being banned from the circus (not by Crowley- as if he'd ever listen to that old fart. He'd actually gotten in an argument with a quartet of circus clowns and was promptly escorted off the premises).
Plus, he's avoiding Housewarden Riddle's "spring cleaning" mania.
Decluttering a dorm that's cluttered by design? Yeah, count him out!
So, he's aimlessly, dumbly wandering the campus, fidgeting with a deck of cards, fantasizing about the slice of hot pie he might score from the cafeteria if he gets in line early.
Little does the foolish, irritating, and lazy oaf know, he's about to meet his match...
"...Are you getting any of that, Giddy?" Fellow asks, finishing his narration with a proper cliffhanger (his favorite part of going to the theater is wanting to come back for more).
Gidel nods, holding up a notepad full of scribbles and doodles of Ace being eaten by alligators.
"Good!" Fellow chimes, patting the boy's head. "Now, we wait to make our dramatic entrance... wait... waaait... waaaaait... NOW!"
He leaps out of the bushes, Gidel close behind, holding his drawing above his head to scare Ace.
"WE'VE CAUGHT YOU!" Fellow announces. "Quiver in fear! Are you quivering?"
Gidel thrusts the notepad forward.
Ace looks between the two, eyes half-lidded, hand in his pocket, chewing on something that makes his breath minty when he talks.
"What is that, like a horse or something?"
Gidel's ears droop and Fellow scoffs.
"What are you, blind? That's obviously you being precariously dangled over alligator-infested waters by a fishing line, with the thread about to snap at any second!"
Ace squints at the notepad. "Oh, yeah. Huh. I kinda see it,"
"That's what we're going to do to you," Fellow explains, holding up a finger. "We're rivals, now, you see!"
The redhead raises an eyebrow. "Uh, no, we're not. I'm picking up groceries. Trey's making apple strudel,"
Both Fellow and Gidel's ears prick up at that, the latter dropping the notepad, now forgotten amongst the sound of rumbling stomachs.
"Oh, he is? How coincidental! I was just telling Giddy here how I'd love to be a baking assistant for some young, talented soul!"
Ace frowns. "Uh, yeah, no. Later," he walks right through the two as if they were made of air. "And, by the way, the whole alligator bit is more of a supervillain thing. Rivals are like competitors, and they're more annoying than evil."
"I KNEW THAT!!!" Fellow shouts.
He continues down the path while Fellow grumbles, and Gidel's ears droop at their loss of warm, gooey apple strudel.
"Rivals... competitors... pah! I can't compete with anyone at this place!"
Fellow swears, attempting to kick the footstool. His toe catches on the rug and he trips, falling face-first into the coffee table.
This, still, doesn't deter his ranting.
"Threatening someone's life with a gruesome and painful death is cake, but competing? What am I, a racehorse!?"
Gidel nods enthusiastically, and then shakes his head when Fellow glares.
The foxman sighs. He scratches his head. He crosses his arms and taps his foot. He does all the things he's seen in cartoons to indicate great thought. Still, nothing happens.
"...To compete, I would need someone on my level," he says, "Which leaves... tch, well, no one, unless there's a particularly scrawny, weak, and unintelligent freshman wandering about."
Gidel doesn't look up from his coloring page, now sketching in the big "D" in "ETERNAL DAMNATION".
"Damn it all, you're right! I shouldn't put myself down so soon. Surely, there's someone here who matches my wit, charm, and relative lack of magical talent..."
The front door creaks open, and Yuu's voice rings through the house.
"Dinner's here!"
It clicks.
Fellow runs to stand under the lampshade and tug on the cord, lighting the bulb above his head.
Sunday is warm and breezy.
Rollo is out gardening in a straw hat and thick gloves, muttering curses at the weeds strangling his flowers and herbs.
Skully is in the lounge, arranging and rearranging skulls and wormwood to create the most aesthetically pleasing Halloween centerpiece.
The centipede that lives in the basement is down there, doing basement things. Presumably.
But Yuu? Sweet, gentle Yuu? Poor, innocent, sweet, gentle Yuu?
Yuu is in the kitchen.
Fellow smiles deviously, rubbing his gloved hands together before putting on his performing face and strutting into the kitchen.
Yuu is rhythmically stirring something sweet-smelling over the stove. The window is cracked open, and there's jazz on the radio. Grim is nowhere in sight- good. Fellow had worn an extra pair of pants just in case the direbeast tried to burn his butt off again.
Looks like he won't have to worry about that, after all.
"My, my, what have we here? Cooking!" he says, sliding next to Yuu at the stovetop. "Look, you're doing it all wrong- let me!"
He sets the tip of his finger on their nose and pushes them back, taking the spoon from them for extra measure.
They blink. "Oh, hi, Fellow. I didn't know you were up,"
"Of course I'm up! Sleep is for the weak," he says, "And the stupid and untalented. And I am, of course, the finest chef in the dorm."
"Are you? Because two days ago you said you didn't know how to use the can opener,"
Fellow falters. "That was... uh... my can-opening finger was sprained!"
"I see," Yuu says. "So, are you bored, or what? I could give you a list of chores if you need something to do."
"Nonsense! I only came over to fix your terrible mess because you were doing it oh-so wrong!!"
He swings the spoon for emphasis, splattering something brown and sticky on the wall. He falters.
"...What are you making, again?"
"Caramel," Yuu says, "And you're burning it."
He yelps at the smell of fire and burnt sugar fusing to the bottom of the pot.
"AH! HOW- NEVER IN MY LIFE! YOU DISTRACTED ME!" he accuses, pointing a finger at Yuu.
"It's still burning,"
He yelps again, and then fidgets with the stovetop until the fire has been put out and the caramel is a black, bubbling pot of goo. Fellow and Yuu both stare at the charred remains.
"..."
Fellow is soon put on pot-washing duty, dish gloves rolled up to his elbows, a blackened sponge in his hand.
"It's a good thing I'm the finest dishwasher in the dorm, too!!!" he shouts as Yuu leaves the room.
Monday is stormy. The front door flies open with a sickening, wet SMACK, wind and rain pouring into the entrance hall as Yuu sloshes inside, sneakers soaked to the sole.
"Goodness," Rollo says, standing from the armchair he'd been curled up in with a book on practical potionology (no magic involved) and rushing to the poor Prefect with a blanket. "What happened?"
Yuu sighs. "Couldn't find my raincoat this morning,"
"Or their boots," Grim mutters, shaking out his coat.
Rollo drapes the blanket around their shoulders and mumbles. "How peculiar. I saw your coat on the rack just before I left for class,"
"Oh, was that what that was?" a voice comes from the end of the hall, where Fellow is leaning against the baseboard with a wicked grin. "Me 'n Gidel thought it was a sleeping bag. Kid's been napping in it all day."
Yuu blinks. Rollo's eyes narrow.
"Why in the world would you think it was a sleeping bag?"
Fellow shrugs. "Big thing of fabric. Basically a sleeping bag,"
"Why, you absolute fool! Yuu ought to-"
"Yes, yes!" Fellow says, running up to the two, "I'm a real jerk, now, c'mon, Yuu, do something! Don't you just wanna hit me!? Punch me in the face!!!"
"Guys, it's okay," Yuu says, and walks into the kitchen without a word, to both Rollo's astonishment and Fellow's disappointment.
Fellow kicks the wall and stubs his toe.
Stolen pencils, vandalized notebooks, ruined dinners, missing hats, bitten fingers (that was Gidel, not him), torn letters, tangled earbuds, copied notes...
No matter what Fellow had tried, Yuu shrugged it off with a smile.
"Accidents happen," they say,
"Oh, well, I needed a new one, anyway," they shrug,
"As long as you clean up after yourself," they compromise,
"I'm sure I'll find it eventually," they concede.
Nothing was getting through to them- this whole rivalry thing is a whole lot harder than Rollo makes it look!
...Then again, Fellow can't recall a time where Malleus Draconia showed up to steal all of his left shoes. He hadn't even cursed his bloodline or anything!
Maybe this is normal, then?
Torturing some poor random person until you go insane?
...No, that doesn't seem right.
"I just don't get it," he mutters, popping a piece of Halloween candy (a new recipe Skully's been trying to get right for weeks- this one's as burnt as Yuu's caramel, but, hey, free food is free food, right?) in his mouth. "If I woke up and all of my socks were pink, I'd never forgive the guy who dunnit. Right, Giddy?"
Gidel is halfway through Rollo's alphabet lessons, now on the letter "M". The word on his color paper reads "MASS". He shrugs.
"Pah, whatever. I'm sure this next thing will finally get them to hate me..."
He pauses.
"Now, when I think about it..." Fellow scratches his chin. "I have no idea why Rollo hates that Malleable guy at all. Or why a little bug's been beefing with Skully. Do rivals have to have reasons to be rivals?"
Gidel shrugs again, kicking his little feet back and forth while he colors the "A" in purple and pink stripes.
Fellow frowns. "I know enemies, I know blinding hatred, I know bar fights and petty insults, I know every bad word that's ever been spoken or thought, but rivals... tch. I just can't seem to get it right,"
Gidel coughs.
"Ask them? You're suggesting I ask Yuu why my efforts to torment them never work? ...Is that allowed?"
Gidel shrugs. Fellow sighs. "Fine! But just because you insist!"
And then he's down the stairs and in the kitchen (the entire lounge has become engulfed in skulls and wormwood). He throws open the door and stares, hard, at Yuu- who's merrily cleaning the counter.
"Oh, hi, Fellow!" they chime, and he frowns. Not even a hint of bitter hatred! Not even a smidge!
"...Hello," he says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, suddenly feeling bashful. Where's the anger? All of their socks are pink, now! Pink!! "Busy?"
"Not really. What's up?"
"Nothing,"
A pause.
"Have you... noticed anything different about the dorm lately?"
Yuu thinks for a moment, setting down the cleaning solution and scratching their chin.
"I think the pillows I picked out for the lounge were a mistake,"
"They clash with the curtains, not a nice look," he says. "Er, I mean, besides that."
They take up the spray bottle and go back to wiping down the counters. "Is this about your mood? Listen, I'm sorry I'm not around much, this is a busy time of year. If you really need attention, you can just ask,"
Fellow's ears prick and he (painfully) flushes, like a fifteen year old girl on her first date. "ATTENTION! WHO SAID I- ahem. Is that how you've been taking it?"
"Yes. What else would it be?"
He blinks. Is this person real? Or is he talking to a cupcake who was turned into a human by a witch?
There is no way his attempts to antagonize them have gone completely over their head.
"...Uh, nothing," he lies, and then, kicking himself, backtracks: "I mean, I was only... trying to make you hate me so I would have someone to fight like everyone else in the dorm."
Yuu raises an eyebrow. "...Yes, like I said. You need attention,"
Fellow falters. Not wrong, but when they say it like that...
"...You make it sound so petty and insignificant," he mutters. "I was perfectly hateable!"
Yuu smiles warmly at him, pats their hands dry on their sides, and then steps forward to meet his eyes.
"There's nothing you could do that would make me hate you,"
Fellow's defensive stance drops, his ears falling flat and his tail drooping. So much for all that, then.
But he supposes this is a bit better- it's nice to hear it so directly, anyway. He's been stressing and stressing about losing the tiny bit of stability he's found in this dorm, with these friends...
With Yuu, specifically.
"...Sorry about your caramel," he says. Yuu raises an eyebrow and he begrudgingly goes on.
"...And your coat. And your pencils. And your notebooks. And your hats, your fingers, your letters, your earbuds, your notes, your socks, and all the dinners..."
"And for wasting my time all month on what could've been a ten minute conversation?"
"You don't have to rub it in!" he pouts, ears flattening against his head. "I'm sorry, alright, I'm a real jerk! I wouldn't blame you if you really did hate me!"
Yuu chuckles and reaches out to flick his forehead. "Hey, relax. Ace nearly blasted me to smithereens when I first met him, and Rollo burnt three of my coats because he was so nervous when he started living here. I'll take missing hats over imminent death any day,"
Oh, right. Fellow forgot they both sort of lived in a death trap for people like them.
And despite it...
No, no. Now's not the time to be thinking about Yuu's smile, or how soft they look, or how many times they've forgiven him for making an ass out of himself...
...Maybe he deserves to be kicked out.
Though, he's glad he gets to stay.
"Well," he huffs, puffing his chest out. "Us magically untalented folk should stick together, anyway. From this moment forth, I'll be your loyal and trustworthy protector!"
That'll last maybe a week- or a day, depending on how fast he gets bored and what snacks will be there.
But the sentiment remains.
Yuu smiles. "Sure, sure, whatever you wanna call it. Why don't you loyally go start the oven? I think you owe me a few dozen dinners,"
"Make it a few hundred!" Fellow chimes, strutting toward the counter with ease, tail swishing happily behind him.
"I am, after all, the finest chef in the dorm!"