Chapter Text
Smiling Friends had been a well established company long before 2013. It had gotten a lot of press after helping some local band smile after their latest single was ripped to shreds by the public, and ever since had regular customers rolling in with rainclouds and coming out with pearly whites on full display. Seemed legit. But even if they weren’t, it’s all he could afford. A swanky sports car pulled up outside, one of many in a collection- clearly this was the man’s priority. Perhaps if he’d been a little more frugal he’d be able to get his niece into a proper therapists’ office.
“You gonna actually cooperate?” The kid in the carseat was sulking, much expected from a 16 year-old-girl. She didn’t reply. This wasn’t her choice. “You need me to come in with ya?”
“No.”
“... So you’re actually gonna tell ‘em what’s up?”
“...”
Her uncle snapped her name. The one she hated. That got a response.
“I don’t see the point. They’re probably just scammin’ you and I’m gonna walk out with a f- some- coloring book or some dumb shit.”
The older critter sighed, scratching his nose.
“Well at least that’d give you somethin’ to do. Ease you away from ticklin’ your uvula-”
“FUCK you, man.”
“Just actually give it a go, aight? You don’t gotta tell them nothin’ you don’t wanna, but at least let ‘em try.”
“...”
The way he used her title this second time was softer, seeking acknowledgement instead of surprise.
“You- you need somethin’. You can’t keep runnin’ on fumes like this. And I- I’m not the person who’s gonna convince you that. I ain’t that smart,” The teenager sank into the car seat, arms crossed across her chest. “Let them make you smile. I won’t be mad if you don’t come home “fixed”, but come home a little happier, yeah?”
Her lip nearly trembled, but she bit down hard enough to cut it out before her uncle could see.
“Fine. Whatever. Are you pickin’ me up or do I need a lift?”
His face softened. “Call me. I’ll come get ya, okay?”
She was quiet for a moment, hesitant, but nodded and slipped out of the passenger seat. Still very openly bitter, she did not look back at him before bitterly pushing open the door. Jesus, this building was ugly. Whatever rules they’d broken by building a giant yellow smiling face between two buildings was NOT worth it. The place was a dump. And it stank. Wet, damp. If she saw any mold on the wall she was out of there.
Fortunately, the smell was the worst of it.
Behind the flimsy doorframe at the end of the hall looked to be a vast, near empty room, pitch black save for the lamp on the desk. It was the only thing in the room and sat right behind it was a human, by the looks of it about 55 years old, slightly graying and smile lines creasing his eyes. Fitting, she thought, for someone called a “Smiling Friend”. What she wasn’t getting was why he was staring her down like that for just a bit-too-long…
“Um…”
Suddenly, it was like a completely different man had replaced him in the chair.
“AHHH, welcome, WELCOME! Come in, come take a seat.”
There were no chairs in the room.
Still, she shuffled closer to the desk. Now it became more clear that the lamp wasn’t all that was on his desk: not only were there two files (to-do and done), but a tiny, tiny homunculus lay underneath the warm heat of the desk lamp. That was a sight, but not one she was unfamiliar with. Her grandma used to show her old photos of a wrinkly, ugly, big-nosed thing sleeping mouth-open in incubators all the while insisting she was such a cute baby.
“Now what brings you to my here office, little lady?” The man became southern for a beat. Okay.
“Uh- well my uncle said he rang and-”
“OHHH, don’t tell me, youuuu’re…” When he finally said her name he stuck his hands out, like he was revealing a magic trick. It disgusted her, in all honesty.
“Yep.”
“Ahhh, yep yep yep, we got all kindsa info on you!” She wasn’t thrilled about that. “Now, lemme just call in my employees- they’re gonna be taking you out today!” The man pushed a wrinkled finger down hard on what must have been an alarm, as seconds later a disheveled human and a tall blue critter walked in. Introducing herself was always a nightmare, but after the awkward exchange she gathered that they were named Gliblor and Adam. She also tensed up when the boss gave them the briefing and made it apparent that her uncle definitely had dropped the “B-word” in his call. Her nose was pointed directly at the floor now, but even then she could sense the way three pairs of eyes looked her up and down. That’s what she hated. She wasn't the type people thought of when they heard; she very much didn’t look it. She walked around with greasy hair, acne, pale yellow skin painted with bags and dark spots, hands shoved into the pockets of her dark jeans that were too tight around her hips despite whatever she did to try and combat that. A common misconception was that everyone who upchucked their food was desperate to look perfect for photos. She couldn't give less of a fuck about that. Nothing she could do could make her hate herself any less.
And it seemed that stretched into what the charity could do. The entire day, the teen was dragged around by two strenuously positive men, smiling down at her with stretched lips spitting out pity she knew wasn’t genuine. Every five minutes one of the two (usually the human dude) would call her “little lady” or some shit. At one point he even told her “all teenage girls go through this. You’ll get over it.” She had to hold herself back from sinking her sharp canine-teeth into his stupid hand in rage. What did he know? Why was she even entertaining this shit?
The entire day was a blur, really, every hour sinking into eachother as if time was becoming liquid, only really pinpointing the moments passing by the sky’s gentle shift in tone as they stopped at girly clothing and drugstores and the two men urged her to try something new. One of the eyeshadow swatches gave her a rash.
She was given a list: try exercising, eat healthy so you don't feel so guilty, talk to people. It was so, so fucking apparent that they had no idea what was going on. Perhaps she would have been more compliant if they had half an ounce of sense in their brain, but now she was standing on the street corner as the two talked about some paperwork: they failed to make her smile, so now she had more work to do. Everything was always on her. It always ended up the same. And now all she had to show for it was an itch on her cheek and a deeper resentment than she came in with- she hated the way she was born. Hated the way people addressed her. Hated everything.
“Woah- hey, hey,” Gliblor was left with her as she started sniffling, clutching at her hoodie sleeves as she doubled over herself. “Hey- I’m sorry we couldn't help you.”
She couldn’t reply. She felt stupid. On top of that, she didn't have any idea how to tell them that they'd made everything so much worse. The defining factor to everything was the fact she was who she was.
The (very very slightly better) smiling friend put a paw on her back and sighed.
“Sometimes we go out after missions. Softens the blow, especially after a rough one,” He leaned over, looking at her blotched, now orange face with sympathy. “Why don’t we head over to somewhere. Get something to eat- drink. Whatever. It’s for you.”
She sniffed, wiping her face with her hoodie cuff and nodded.
The bar they walked into was poorly lit. Good to hide the obvious woe on her big dumb face, she thought.
“How old are ya?”
“...21.” She lied through gritted teeth, not expecting to be believed.
“Damn. Young face. Alright, hold on.”
The failed charity worker walked over to the bar with their short legs moving so fast she could barely see them and she watched as he ordered two- oh- no, four drinks. Two were non-alcoholic. Water. The other two were beer, it looked like, and as he walked back to the table the smell made it obvious. Was he actually…?
“Here.”
He slid the glass over.
It was cold, the condensation on the glass cooling against her clammy palm… she’d taken a few sips out of her uncle’s liquor cabinet before, but hadn't ever been to an actual bar.
“...thanks.”
Gliblor was already downing his.
…
She followed suit.
Ew.
It was… a flavour. Yeasty. But not unpleasant. Just bitter. Gliblor didn't seem to notice her apparent disgust, instead taking the positive.
“See, you're looking a little calmer. It was probably just a lot all at once.”
“Yeah.” She sipped again.
“You know, maybe… okay, in total realness, Adam is stubborn. And he hates criticism. But I dunno, something about the weird makeover he tried to give you gave me a bad vibe.”
“Yeah…”
“What do YOU want?”
She blinked, looking up at him. Why is she only being asked that now?!
“I-”
What did she want?
To be someone different, fundamentally. But that couldn't happen. At least, not all at once.
“I think… I dunno. Sometimes I wish I was born different.”
“Mhm,” Her accomplice hummed in an I-hear-ya way, but let her keep going, even as she paused to collect her thoughts.
“Everythin’ would be, like, so much easier if I… dunno. Was a totally different person.”
“Why don't you make that happen then?” He said it so casually, like it had been obvious from the start.
“What- like- kill myself and get reborn?”
Gliblor chuckled, which was kind of unprofessional for someone who's job was essentially a step down from suicide prevention.
“Nah. Just, see where you can change and change it. For yourself.”
“Like what?”
“I dunno. What do you want to change?”
That elicited some sincere thought. She’d always hated her name. People always heard it and assumed she’d be this peppy, flowery, sunshiney girl with a ponytail and glittery eyeshadow, only to meet her and look blatantly disappointed.
“Hm…” She drank the last of what was in front of her. “That… yeah, I’ll have to think about that.”
Gliblor smiled at her, although she wasn't quite there yet.
“Wanna get another round? It’s on me.”
They stayed there for an hour. The teenager didn't get questioned once, even being bold enough to stagger up to the bartender and order a line of shots at one point, which she drank entirely by herself. Gliblor was gone. God knows where. She remembered saying goodbye to him, waving, him saying something about… oh. She was smiling. Huh.
She touched her cheek like she couldn't believe it- the itch was still there, but now it was accompanied by this warmth in her cheeks. It felt nice. And now she had something else to think about. She’d see if she could go scroll through baby name websites when she got home, that is if she could actually stay awake…
Getting home.
Oops.
Her phone still had a tiny chunk of battery left, perfect to call her uncle to come get her, although she kept tripping up on her words and had to step out to see what the bar was called.
He sounded furious, but she was too floaty to really be worried.
Even when he pulled up, red faced and disgusted at the way the kid HE was responsible for seemed to have been totally taken advantage of.
“What the hell-”
“No- before you- you- before you say anyfing. They made me smile, dinn’t they?” She couldn’t really hold herself up at this point. It wasn’t an incredible sight, especially not what one would expect after sending your niece to a charity meant to be beneficial for her anguish. He sighed, taking her by the arm and guiding her to stagger into the car, a different one, this time.
“Don't you hurl in my ride, kid.” She just laughed, climbing in and leaning back against the plush leather seats.
As soon as they got home she went into the spare bedroom she was occupying for the minute, slapped her phone down on the bedside table and flopped, face first on the mattress, shoes and everything. She hardly had any time to think of putting her phone on charge, let alone delving into the weird off-hand advice that sat prominent in the front of her mind. But that was probably for the best, since her uncle seemed to want one thing right now and that was for his niece to sleep the evening off.
Teenagers don't really get hangovers, apparently. She woke up a little disoriented, stomach feeling sort of twisty and she was aware that she stank. The room spun in a way that she chalked up to being tired, and her mouth tasted like shit. And she was still in a good mood. It was weird. Something must have happened to take this massive weight off her shoulders… she’d remember what it was, probably. For now, she had to clean herself up, a shower actually sounded really appealing right now, and the idea of toothpaste replacing the dry aftertaste she was getting was almost exciting. She did get something out of that weird session, whether she knew or not. But that was fine. She was smiling.
Gliblor was fired from the Smiling Friends immediately after the boss found out he went out and got blackout fucked up with a minor and died soon after.