Crona's Theme: "Human" by Daughter
Chapter Themes: "Amsterdam" - Daughter, "Disappear" - Motion City Soundtrack, "Take It with You" - The Ettes)
Karma is such an appealing concept. Do good things and good happens to you. Villains get their comeuppance. But that's not how the world works. Bad things happen to good people, the wicked have such good fortune. Couple that intense need for karma to be real and the world's insistence that everything happens for a reason, and you have this gnawing feeling that you deserve everything this life has to throw at you.
Delicate fingers press bandages across fair skin. It's tight and uncomfortable, but the roll of bandages helps flatten out unwanted curves. Chest now covered, Crona makes their way over to the window, pulling back the curtains to look at the house across the street.
There he stands, like he does every morning. Aldan Black, nickname "Kid" to his friends, and their neighbor for as long as the Steins have lived in Death City. Crona goes through the boy's morning routine under their breath. "Stretch by the window, new shirt." They turn away a moment before blushing and breathing, "New pants. Then the bathroom."
They don't remember when they started keeping note of Aldan's routine, but it had become part of their own at this point. "One more school year… One last summer…" they say as Aldan returns to the bedroom across the street. Butterflies flutter in their belly at the sight of him again, and they feel foolish for feeling them.
A pounding at the door startles them, making them clutch at their heart.
"Hurry up, loser," a male voice calls out from the other side of the door. "I won't wait forever for you if you want a ride with me! Mom's not gonna be happy if you're late for school again!"
Crona gulps and rushes to pick out clothes from their dresser. "I'm coming! Don't leave without me!" they call back. They chance a glance back out the window, but Aldan has already left his room. They sigh, hopping on one foot while trying to shove the other in a sock as quickly as possible.
Once dressed and rushed down the stairs, they don't even think about attempting to grab breakfast from the kitchen. A shiver runs down their spine as they run past the door under the stairs, a deadbolt installed on the outside of the door. They don't want to think of how long they'll be trapped in the small closet if they're late again.
Luckily, Reggie's car still remains in the driveway. Their older brother sports his letterman jacket and seems to be checking his reflection in the rearview mirror as they fall into the passenger seat.
"Thank you," Crona mutters, buckling their seat belt.
"Yeah yeah," Reggie replies. He looks over his shoulder to reverse out of the driveway, and Crona watches out the passenger window over at the Black house.
Aldan climbs into the driver's seat of his own car, the Thompson sisters seemingly arguing over who gets to sit in the passenger side and who gets the back seat. The sisters must be so lucky. Everyone knew that Professor Black took the girls in when they had nowhere else to go. Quite literally living in Aldan's backyard. So lucky to have a nice, safe place to go home to. So lucky to be so close to Aldan…
Reggie focuses on the road ahead of them, face in a scowl. "I have football practice after school. Figure out a way home yourself," he says.
Before Crona can respond, he drives over a particularly large speed bump, causing Crona to bite their tongue quite literally. Biting back tears, both of pain and frustration, they stare back out the passenger window and watch Death City speed by. No ride, no friends, no luck.
It isn't long before Death City High School comes into view and Reggie pulls into the parking lot. He doesn't say anything as he shuts off the engine and gets out of the car, doesn't even give Crona any attention as they climb out as well. He simply locks the door and walks over to greet his friends. An idea flickers in Crona's mind that maybe their brother could introduce them to the group. But then again, what would they have to offer the friend group?
Crona passes by the group quietly and heads into the school.
…
"Anyone think they can solve for 'x'?" Mr. Albarn calls out.
Crona feels their fingers twitch with the urge to raise their hand, but they fight back and remain still. Keep your head down, get your work done, don't stand out. Their mantra that had gotten them through most of the bullying of middle school. It hopefully will serve them well in the rest of their four years of school. They avoid eye contact with the red-headed teacher and catch Ox nearby practically rising out of his seat for a chance to answer the question.
Average students stay out of trouble. Average students don't get noticed. Average students don't get hit.
Ox gives the correct answer, and Mr. Albarn drones on with the lesson.
Crona tugs a bit on a lock of their blonde hair. Staring at the color in between their fingers, they think back to the pink hair dye hidden in the back of their closet. Maybe this year could be different. Maybe Freshman year would be the year that Crona could stand out a little more, be a little above average for once in their life. High school is about trying new things and figuring out who you are right? Besides, they could dye their hair a more natural color if it didn't work out.
The bell finally rings, and Crona hurries to their locker with new determination. The day cannot go by fast enough for them. Goodbye blonde, hello pink!
…
Spanish class had been interesting from the start. Crona had done so well in Middle School Spanish that they were able to test out of Spanish 1 and into Spanish 2 at Death City High. One of the few things that they really excel in. However, the best part is being able to have a class with Aldan. Getting to hear his voice, especially in such a beautiful language, is a treat for them.
But when their Spanish teacher announces their first group project of the semester, Crona freezes. They are the only Freshman in their class, and the only person they know is Aldan, someone they have never even talked to before. Who could possibly want to be in a group with them? As they continue to spiral through their anxiety, someone stands next to their desk patiently. Crona finally takes notice and looks up to reveal a girl with dirty blonde hair tied up in pigtails.
"Hey, you're Crona, right? I'm Maka." She holds a hand out to them with a smile.
Hesitantly, they take her hand. "H-hi?"
"You're a Freshman, right? Do you wanna partner up? We could use one more!"
"'We'?" they ask before Maka tugs on their hand to get them to follow her. The two of them pass by other groups slowly forming, and suddenly there he is. Aldan, with his warm eyes and soft smile, giving a slight wave as the two approach.
"Ah, you found another person for our group?" he asks, shifting gaze between Crona and Maka.
"Yup! Kid, this is Crona," Maka introduces.
Crona's right hand comes up, trembling. But instead of extending it to Aldan, they grasp their left arm with it awkwardly. "H-hello." How could they be so rude? Couldn't they just get a grip? He's just a person after all!
Aldan squints for a moment, taking in Crona. "I feel like I know you from somewhere. Have we met before?"
They flinch under his gaze. "Um, not exactly… We are neighbors though."
"Ah, that's it," he says, snapping his fingers once realization sets in. "Your brother was the year above mine. Did he end up going to college?"
"N-no, he, um, has to finish just this semester I think, then he'll have enough credits." It's the first time Crona has said it out loud. And the first time they feel a bit embarrassed for their brother. Not like it seems to matter to their mother. Reggie, it seems, is the child who can do no wrong…
It's quiet for a moment, and Crona can feel someone staring at them. They look up, surprised to see Aldan staring, brows furrowed and lips moving ever so slightly, as if trying to figure out a puzzle.
"Are you… committed to that haircut?" he finally asks.
"What?"
He reaches out towards Crona's hair. "It's just that… well it's a bit uneven, and I could very easily just-"
"Cut it out, Kid!" Maka exclaims, swatting his hand away from them. "We are not playing barber shop in the middle of class!"
He pouts. "I can behave myself, it's just an easy fix is all."
Rolling her eyes, Maka pulls her desk over to Aldan's. "Okay, so the assignment says 'Translate a children's book into Spanish'. Anyone have any suggestions? Crona?"
They busy themself with bringing another desk over to join them. "Um… we didn't really read kids' books when I was little…" they answer in a small voice.
"That's okay, we can try something I read when I was little!" Maka replies, once again smiling brightly at them. "Papa really liked 'The Monster at the End of This Book', he'd do Grover's voice and everything. I think I still have it at home. I could bring it for next class?"
"I think it's an excellent idea," Aldan says. "We can get started right away next class then."
Maka and Aldan take the rest of the class period to discuss how to translate the title, while Crona sits there quietly. They will have to participate at some point, it's only fair, but for now they feel… grateful? Included? Happy they chose to test out of Spanish 1? Probably all of the above. They settle in and watch the two work for a while, enjoying the time together.
…
They'd forgotten about having no ride home.
It's a long, mostly quiet walk home for Crona, peaceful almost if not for the rage they are certain to face the moment they walk through their doors. They slow their pace a bit at the realization. There's no stopping what's to come, hell there doesn't even have to be a reason for what's to come usually, so what does returning home a few minutes later than they already were late make a difference other than to buy them some extra time of peace?
Aldan and the Thompsons speed by at some point, and Crona considers running to their house once they arrive. If Professor Black could help the sisters, maybe he could help them too? But alas, the idea is short-lived. Every adult they had tried to run away to has just returned them home and been easily manipulated by their snake of a mother. "Children say the oddest things, don't they?" "Children get so rowdy when they play, can you really blame them for being so bruised up?" "Youngest children are always looking for new ways to get the most attention, it's kind of sad isn't it?"
There's no end to Crona's reality in sight. Why bother with the daydreams of getting away to somewhere happier?
Eventually, they arrive home, and Crona takes a deep breath before walking through the door. Inside, it's quiet, save for the drumming of fingers on the kitchen table. They walk into the kitchen to see their mother, Madi Stein, sitting impatiently next to a spread of food. An early dinner.
"You're late," she hisses.
"Sorry, Reggie couldn't give me a ride, so I had to walk by myself…"
"It's not that far a walk, so why are you so damn late?"
"I… I…"
"I, I," she replies mockingly. "I left work early to try to do something nice, try to make a dinner we could all enjoy together for once. Do you know how hard it is to leave early and make a full dinner for the family?"
Crona opens their mouth to speak, but their mother cuts them off.
"No, you wouldn't know, you're a spoiled brat without a care in the world. Not even a care to get home within a reasonable time. I slave over a hot stove, and for what? No one appreciates the work I put into this home, not your father, not Reggie, not you." She rises up from the table and looms over their small stature.
"I told you, I didn't have a ride home, I'm sor-"
Before Crona can finish their sentence, Madi brings her left hand up and backhands the left side of their face. Her wedding ring connects with bone next to Crona's left eye, and it stings instantly.
"I'm so sick of your excuses. Go to your room before I do something you'll regret."
Tears well up in Crona's eyes, but they refuse to let them fall in front of her. They quickly turn on their heel to run up the stairs to their bedroom before Madi changes her mind.
"And don't even think about coming down for dinner!" they hear her shriek up the stairs.
In the safety of their room, Crona quietly closes the door behind them and sinks to the ground, backpack still on and leaning against the wood. Best not to slam doors, especially after all this. They'd already learned that lesson. Their face feels warm, and they bring a hand up to their eye to discover just a tiny trickle of blood forming where stone met skin. They wipe it away with their hand and then on their jeans.
"Don't cry, don't cry," they mutter to themself. It always felt more like losing any time that they did. They wrap their arms around their knees and lean their forehead to touch kneecaps. Blonde hair drapes around their face, and Crona recalls the pink hair dye again.
They remove their backpack and move to their closet. Parting the sea of junk on the floor of their closet, they find the small bottle of hair dye and pick it up gently. They turn it over in their hands and look at the instructions. Basically put it all through every bit of hair, wait, and rinse. How hard could that be on your own?
They pop open the cap and begin squeezing a bit at a time directly into their open palm. Hesitantly, they run the pink paste through the top of their hair and turn to the standing mirror in the corner of their room. Well, no turning back now.
Fear runs icy through their heart as they think about their mother seeing it the next day. If there was anything that Madi had ever complimented Crona on, it was their pretty blonde hair, and now they have ruined it.
"If I leave before she wakes up…" Crona muses, thinking over their Saturday plans. No prior engagements come to mind, but they consider running away one last official time. Really make it and never look back. They smile and squirt another bit of the hair dye in their now stained hand, running more through the blonde locks. As they work, the pink begins setting in, and their smile grows along with their plan.
…
The note they'd left so early in the morning reads, "Going to the library to study," and Crona hopes that this is good enough of a cover to buy them enough time to get as far away from their home on foot as they can. Their plan is as thorough as their hair dye attempt: not completely thorough. Patches of blonde stick through the pink in areas that Crona had run out of the dye. Maybe getting help would have been a better idea, but who would have even helped?
Backpack full of whatever they could stuff in it on their back, and phone in hand trying to navigate, Crona keeps making their way downtown toward the bus station. Maybe they can hitch a ride to somewhere far away and start life over again. Would they continue school or just get a job and start their adult life at 14?
They stop in their tracks a moment. A job. Without it, how would they get a bus ticket to anywhere? They'd spent what little they'd saved from birthdays and Christmasses to get the hair dye, there was nothing left. They sigh and take a seat on a nearby bench, closing their map app on their phone.
What a stupid idea it had been in the first place.
Exhausted, they lean their head back to stare up at the sky. What will they do now? Go back? Keep trudging forward? They haven't even left Death City yet, and their feet and shoulders ache terribly. Running away is hard work, and maybe they just aren't cut out for it.
"Crona?" a voice calls out, and they jump to their feet at the sound. There stands Aldan, face a mix of confusion and concern. "Are you alright?"
"Y-yeah, just fine!" A bit of a heart attack never killed anyone, right?
"I was going for a walk and thought it might be you, but well, your hair…" He moves closer to them and starts to reach for a strand of pink and blonde. He pauses, eyebrows furrowed, and places a finger along the side of their left eye. "Your eye…"
Crona takes a step backwards abruptly and laughs nervously. They had forgotten about the bruise forming from the night before. "Yeah, I, um, tried to dye my hair and it didn't work out… accidents happened"
He stares at the bruise a moment, but eventually nods thoughtfully. "It's a bit tricky to do on your own, I know from experience." Thank god he bought it. "You really need to get it done professionally."
"Oh, I don't have the money for that…"
"I'd be happy to help with that. Consider it a gift."
They raise their hands up in front of them and wave them. "N-no, I couldn't possibly let you do that!"
"Nonsense, what are friends for?" he replies casually. Like it was the simplest thing in the world.
Crona smiles shyly and looks forward again. The smile disappears from their face as they realize with confusion that they see their father, Dr. Frank Stein, in the distance, leaving some sort of store. They don't recall their father mentioning having plans outside of work today. It's then that a woman's laugh tinkles out of the store, and out walks a very familiar face: Miss Mjolnir, school counselor.
Without a word to Aldan, Crona hides behind a nearby building, peaking around the corner to watch the two carefully. What could they possibly be doing together?
Aldan tilts his head slightly, staring at Crona in confusion, but hesitantly moves to hide behind the corner as well. He places a hand on their shoulder and glances around the corner to follow Crona's gaze.
Crona freezes under his touch, praying to whatever god is listening that their face doesn't turn red.
"Ah, Miss Mjolnir," he says. "Is that who you're hiding from? Did something happen between you two?"
"N-no, that's not it! You see, that's my-"
Before Crona can finish their sentence, they watch as Marie reaches up to kiss their father, lacing a hand with his. What are they doing? What are they doing?!
Hand clutching their chest, Crona whips back around the corner to their hiding place and sits on the sidewalk. Their breathing quickens, their heart races, fingertips starting to go numb. What if their mother finds out? She'd be heartbroken. She'd be furious. And their father would never receive the brunt of her wrath. He never did. They would. It'd be the closet again, or something worse. They recall the last time they were pushed into that closet under the stairs, calling out for Reggie to help them only for the teenager to simply look away.
"Crona!" Aldan's voice finally rings out in the enveloping darkness, pulling them back to the present scene. "I need you to breathe, alright? You have to breathe, they're gone, you are just fine!"
His hands are on their upper arms as he squats in front of them. People are staring, people are judging, how could they be so stupid to act like this in public?
"Listen to me, breathe with me okay? In and out, just like this." Wherever Crona looks, Aldan places his face in their line of sight and breathes slowly in and out.
Finally, they begin to take deep breaths along with him, shakily at first, but eventually calm, even breaths. They lock eyes with him, noting for the first time that his brown eyes have little flecks of gold in them. So beautiful. When they realize they're staring, Crona flicks their eyes away from Aldan's face to the people walking by past him. The people whisper and stare as they move on by.
He squeezes Crona's arm comfortingly. "It's okay, panic attacks happen. Don't worry about anyone else, just focus on me and breathe."
They focus back on breathing; four counts in, four counts out, repeat. Maybe running away has been a failure, but it isn't all for nothing. A little quality time (even if embarrassing) with Aldan is worth all the walking. A smile slowly forms on their face as they come back to calm.
"How are you feeling?" he asks.
"I'll be okay." For once they feel like they mean it.
"Good! Now, to the salon! We'll get your hair fixed up right away, and I'm not taking 'no' for an answer!" Aldan smiles warmly at them and gets up from the ground. He holds a hand out to them, and they take it, allowing him to pull them up.
"Th-thanks… Aldan…"
"My friends call me 'Kid'," he replies, placing a hand on their backpack and guiding them presumably towards the nearest salon.
"Kid, then…" Crona says, trying not to blush. Friends, huh?
"A bit of a long story, but if you'd like to hear it, we've got the time." Kid continues with his story as they make their way, Crona shyly smiling at him the whole time.