Requested (SOMEBODY BEAT ME TO THIS SCENARIO GODDAMMIT
You had known her for a while. Not just a casual "oh yeah, we hung out once" kind of while. Like, a real while. The kind where you'd seen each other at your best, your worst, and your most embarrassingly weird. inside jokes that made zero sense to outsiders, that one time she cried over a goldfish—that kind of friendship. Shedletsky and Brighteyes had taken her in almost immediately, and they treated her like she was some sort of fragile little monarch. Pampered. Cared for. Tolerated at her absolute strangest.
And for the most part, it worked. You all got each other in that odd, slightly dysfunctional, “trauma-bonded but make it goofy” kind of way. She had quirks, sure, but nothing unmanageable. You thought you understood her. You thought.
But somewhere along the way… something changed.
And yeah. SOMEHOW. genuinely just somehow. she became the pure embodiment of hatred??? like good god???
It didn’t make sense. Before, she was fine, laughing at Brighteyes’s dumb impressions, The next, she was staring daggers into everyone’s soul and muttering cryptic things like “...I hope you fall into a manhole."
One day, you tried to fix it. Or, well, you tried to not be incredibly awkward for once. You basically dragged her to sit down with Shedletsky and Brighteyes. You were hoping for some sort of healing circle or a weirdly intense group hug. You didn’t know. You were desperate.
Everyone sat there in awkward silence, the kind that makes you aware of your own blinking. No one wanted to speak first. Brighteyes cleared his throat once and was immediately glared into submission.
Then, slowly, ominously, she reached into her hoodie pocket.
You thought she was grabbing a comically large object, or a knife, possibly.
But no.
She pulled out a harmonica.
A whole harmonica. From her pocket. Like it lived there full-time.
She looked you all dead in the eye and said, completely monotone:
“This is a song I just wrote. It’s called ‘I Hate You Guys.’”
And then she played.
Not well, mind you. It was chaotic. Uneven. Like a dying accordion being slowly suffocated. But it was passionate. You could feel the rage in every honk.
Every few seconds, she'd stop playing, stare off into the middle distance, and say:
“I hate you guys.” Then back to the harmonica. “You guys are the worst.” “Actually, you're all emotionally constipated freaks.” Hoooonk.
Shedletsky stared at the ceiling. “This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever been part of.”
Brighteyes didn’t even flinch. “Remember when she cried because the moon ‘looked judgy’? I’d take that over this.”
“I’m not even listening,” Shedletsky muttered. “I’m in my mind palace. I’m gone.”
“You overshare and I don’t care about your dreams.”
Brighteyes rolled her eyes. “Neither do I! They’re dreams! They’re not canon!”
She pointed at Shedletsky.
“And you think you’re better than everyone.”
He looked up. “I am. I’m just stuck with you people.”
creds to WIITCHINGH0UR on twt.....creator dm me if you don't want ur stuff being used...