Chapter Text
Here's a crazy, absolutely mind-blowing revelation regarding Noelle Holiday: she has thoughts.
Lots of them! All the time!
…That's not a crazy thing to say!!
Sure, someone who hears that might think something along the lines of: I mean, that's to be expected. Everyone thinks. And, well… yeah, they'd be right. Still, and this might be a little presumptuous of her, she can’t help but believe that no one else does thinking quite like her. In fact, if she were a betting woman — which she isn't, thank you very much — she'd wager she thinks a fair bit more than most other people.
It comes down to routines, she pinpoints in one of those intense thinking sprees. Noelle's life really just boils down to one big, bizarrely strict routine. Most of her mornings can be summarized into this: she wakes up, goes to school, does her homework, visits her dad, then finally gets home and goes to sleep so the cycle can restart. There are minor deviations, here and there. Sometimes what she has for lunch will vary slightly — never for dinner, though, during which she always silently laments the struggle of having to eat caviar again. Some days there's track practice to attend to, which helps get her mind off things to an extent, but also just clutters her schedule and makes it all the more exhausting to get her homework ready on time. Studying can always be done in different places, often with Berdly tagging along, but that doesn't feel different enough. Never can she look back during the end of a day and assert there was something unique that made it stand out.
That's all her life is. Going through the motions. Feeling the world pass her by. At times, it feels like between her mind and body sits a panel of glass, and all she can do is watch as she marches along the road of her pre-determined life. The realization of how little one's choices truly matter… it's enough to make anyone go insane, isn't it?
…That being said, she hasn't gone insane yet!! At least, she thinks she hasn't. Probably not. She’d know if she was, right? Yeah. Yeah, she would, which means she isn’t insane. So! How does she do it!?
Well, that's where the thinking comes in! She has to entertain herself somehow, and what better space to do so than her own mind? At least this way she doesn't have to lose out on time that could be better spent on any of her endless tasks. So she thinks. Over and over, little words and shapes and meanings that blend together into one silly and wonderful mess of ideas.
Of course, even as she tries to limit herself only to happy thoughts, she isn't safe from the darkness that has clouded her for so long. How tragic, but then again, that’s just how things in Noelle’s life tend to go: all good things have an expiration date.
Most of these bouts of utter misery come down to yearning for the past. Everything was so much better then, after all! Each day was a new adventure! Her worries were so much smaller! This nostalgia might be referred to as unhealthy by some — it probably is, to be fair — but what else is there for her to do? When every recent memory just reminds her of how much worse everything has gotten, mentalizing how much she misses every place and every person and every memory that shaped her into the person she supposedly is today is all she can do. Therefore, she thinks over and over about everything and everyone she misses.
I miss mom! her mind wails every day she gets a call about how her mother will be too busy with work to come back at a reasonable time. Any trace of a stern, yet still loving parent had long since faded away, ironed out by grief. Now, Noelle was lucky to even see her once during a whole day. Heck, lucky might not even be the correct word, since any meetings between mother and daughter usually carried with them some form of scolding and lecturing.
I miss dad! her mind weeps every time she has to see him wasting away in that stupid hospital bed. Most of her thoughts regarding her father used to be about how alive he was — cracking jokes, stealing smiles, being the life of any conversation. Now every glance at him and every harsh cough that erupts out of him only further reminds Noelle that one day she’ll have to miss him even more, and that day is fast approaching.
I miss Dess! her mind shrieks. This one doesn’t stop. It’s not even a thought, really — more of a feeling. Every time she leaves her room and can’t stop from glancing towards the black-colored door directly to her left. Every time she hears a guitar string during any song, even if it sounds nothing like something Dess would ever listen to, let alone play. Every time she sees any print left on the snow, followed by the sudden thought of how big of a snow angel Noelle would be able to make nowadays. Every second of silence in a house that was once so full of life. Every second she breathes. All those times, Noelle can feel the absence of her sister in the way it gets a little harder to not break down and let the mask fall off, knowing she’d manage to make it all at least a little better if she was here.
I miss Kris!
…Oh, right. That one’s complicated.
It’s one that pops up pretty often, far too much for her liking. Is it ridiculous? Maybe, given there’s no real reason why she should be missing them. On one of the rare days in which they don’t skip school and actually show up to class, all she has to do to see them is look back and to the right, her head tilted slightly upwards and over her shoulder, and there they are. Still breathing, still living, still here. And yet, every once in a while their gazes lock onto each other’s, one pair of hopeless eyes meeting another, and she decides that sure, she does miss them after all.
What makes the situation complicated isn’t just the oddness of missing them, though. For anyone and anything else, that’s all she does. Limit herself to one simple sorrowful thought, wallow for the appropriate amount of time, and move onward to whatever her tumultuous mind next settles on. When the topic of Kris comes up, though, it becomes impossible for them to leave her mind for a good while. All sorts of weird follow-up questions pop up, all of them equally sad. Well, maybe sad isn’t the best word — saying they tend to make her sad is probably more appropriate. Out of these, one in particular tends to stick out, not particularly common but still notable enough that she finds herself wishing it came up less:
Would I be happier if I never met Kris?
It's a fair question, in some ways. Unlike her other losses, real or imminent or conceptual or otherwise, Kris was the only one that wasn't a family member. They're the only one who was (supposedly) not intrinsically linked to her life — it really was an insane coincidence that a human ended up in Hometown in the first place, let alone that she met them. Still, she hates thinking about it, and still, she always delves deeper into the thought anyway, because her brain is usually hellbent on torturing her.
The conclusion she usually arrives at is that yes, she would be, but she'd forever feel like there's something missing. It's almost akin to blindness: would a person who was born blind be happier than one who lost their vision at one point, yet still remembers what it was like? Probably, right? She thinks so, at the very least. Imagine having dreams of a beautiful world, filled to the brim with light and shapes and colors, only to wake up to a black screen. She wouldn’t wish that upon anyone. And this thing with Kris… well, it’s hard to tell, given she’s never been blind and hopefully never will be, but she’d guess it’s similar.
Even then, it’s hard to really tell. Kris was (is) such an integral part of her life that it feels impossible to foresee the effects such a drastic change would cause. There are studies about that, right? Something about butterflies? Anyway, even Noelle herself probably wouldn’t be the same person with such a large absence. What was she even like before they came around? She can scarcely even remember. That time existed, she knows, and if she focuses she can make out hazy memories of a tiny, scared girl who always clung onto her family, too shy to talk to anyone else, but it’s almost like a blur. The day the two of them met for the first time, however… that she remembers with striking clarity.
It all started a couple months after Kris’ adoption, the first dinner meeting between the two neighboring families since then finally being scheduled. It had started as things often did when they were involved: with a prank. A small bug was picked off of the ground and, while the adults and older kids were too wrapped up with the greetings, put on her head. The situation began with Noelle squealing in horror, trying to get the monstrous beast off her hair. But then, it ended with an exhilarated fit of laughter from her that went for far longer than it probably should have, equally terrified and awe-struck, after the insect threat had finally been neutralized.
Noelle called them weird for putting a bug on her hair. Kris called her weird for laughing about it. It was truly a match made in heaven, she thinks.
Since that day, the two had been inseparable. It almost felt like there was some invisible pull, drawing them closer, forcing them to be together every moment they could. Every moment when it was possible, the two were side by side, doing whatever they could think of. Noelle wonders, later down the line, if Kris actually didn't want to spend so much time with her. Maybe they just did it because it was expected of them. Which leads her to the next depressing, Kris-related question she frequently replays on her head:
Was our friendship forced?
This is one she can never fully settle on an answer for. Some days, she thinks there’s no way. Even if they broke contact after the first moment of separation, Kris can’t have hated their time together too much. She’d have known, wouldn’t she? And it’s not like it was forced from her end, either. If there was any person she could say no to, it was Kris, after all. But then again, what was the alternative? Willingly not spending time with them? It’s not like there was anyone else she’d rather do anything with.
Maybe that’s where the forcedness of it all comes from, though. Not out of a disdain for being together all the time, but rather a disdain for any other possibility. Is it really a choice if the alternative is ripping off an arm, or a leg, or heck, just gouging both eyes out?
Noelle’s begun thinking of it like it’s a scenario in which she’s a prisoner and Kris is the one keeping her locked up. Not even as a guard or anything, just… a cage. A huge Kris-cage, wrapped up around her, forcing her to stay frozen in place. Almost like a hug. Maybe it sounds weird to think about someone like Kris, famous hater of all touch-related activity, giving out hugs, but it’s been known to happen on occasion, so she thinks about it anyway. Especially because the few hugs she did experience from them were actually pretty nice! They always clung to her really tightly, almost like they knew there wouldn’t be a repeat for a really long time. Cage or hug or whatever other association she can think of, though, she’s not against the idea! In fact, there’s something weirdly heartwarming about it.
Someone normal would probably disagree. Wouldn't it be better, she imagines this hypothetical person asking, unabashed judgment slobbered all over their words, if your friend was the key? It's easy to see why. After all, a key could open up the cage, could give this prisoner her first taste of wind and sunlight and freedom. But then, she looks back at the Noelle who once was, full of light and cheer and unashamed joy. She looks ahead at the Noelle she foresees, suffocated by her mother's expectations and her father's imminent demise and all else that looms terrifyingly over her. Finally, in a rare moment of complete clarity, she concludes: I was freer, back then.
So she chooses the cage, with all the Krisness it may bring. Maybe that makes her freaky, disturbing, the carrier of some twisted variation of Stockholm Syndrome. Or maybe it's everyone else that’s trapped, and she’s the only free one, safely tucked into her paradise while the rest of the world drowns under a lake of repetition.
Is that also how Kris feels about her? Do they see her as their cage? She wants to believe that, even find relief in that thought, but then again, maybe that's why they left. Maybe they stay away out of fear of once again trapping themself. Maybe they don't see the situation the way she does, and would really rather have a key. Still, she doesn't just think, she hopes — and oh, how can she hope so fervently, after everything? — that they reconsider. That one day they reach out to her and ask…
What? What would they even ask?
How was it even like, back in those glory days? Who was the cage? Who was the prisoner? Was it Noelle or was it Kris or was it neither or was it both? Was that control shared, a mutual, beautiful thing, cages tangled with each other, pushing and pulling as far as the other would allow? That last option, she decides, is the one she likes best. If she ever reconnects with them — and there's that twinge of hope again — she'd like that to be the case. And so that thought ends, resting dormant until another day passes and the cycle starts all over again.