Pantry Prom! (Tate)

[TUESDAY DAVENPORT]

”Help! Yo, help! Let me out! Get me out of here!”

Tuesday’s fist smacked against the closet door for what seemed like the billionth time today. Damnit, he was so, so stupid. He really, really was. For real. Was his brain just on hiatus-mode or something today? Or what? Fuck, fuck, this door was not going to open, and he didn’t have any lock-picking stuff with him. What the fuck was he going to do?

Basically, he’d been scurrying around school looking for snacks, because man, it was ten at night, he was starving, the dining hall was closed, and there was no food in his dorm. He’d brought a spray paint can in case he like, he didn’t know, felt like spraying a mural or something, but had left it somewhere in the common room because he was a stupid stupid idiot. Then he’d come upon this handy-dandy looking metal door right next to the kitchens, propped wide open, displaying for all to see a tall array of shelves stacked with Pringles, goldfish, cookies, and pretty much any other snack food Tuesday could care to name. Jackpot.

He’d darted in and begun to munch. And right smack in the middle of his third bag of Doritos, a gust of wind had blown the door shut behind him. He’d scurried to open it again, but the lock had clicked firmly behind him. Tuesday Davenport was locked in a food pantry.

And there was no heat in here. And it was starting to get really, really cold.

Teeth chattering, Tuesday rattled the doorknob desperately. ”Help! Somebody help me!” Suddenly, with a loud crack, the doorknob broke off in his hand. Tuesday glared at the knob-less door in front of him, trying vehemently to keep himself from panicking as his heart began to race again. It was going to be okay. Right? It was always okay. Tuesday would find a way out of this. He always found a way out of things. He glanced at his watch. Sure, he’d been stuck in here for almost three hours already, and it was getting colder by the minute, and there was absolutely no one around, but-

No. No. Fuck, damnit, it totally wasn’t going to be okay. He’d been stuck in a closet all by himself with barely enough room to sit down for the past three hours, and even as he pulled his arms and legs into his jacket and curled into a tight ball, he was starting to lose the feeling in his fingers. The shelf behind him shoved into his backside while the door was an impenetrable wall pressing before him, rendering him immobile save tiny, painful wriggles. Fuckshitdamnit, he was totally going to be in here all night, if not all weekend. ”Help,” he groaned weakly, though his lips were numb at this point, and after three hours of screaming his voice was starting to go.

Outfit here!
Notes: Sorry it’s a bit…morbid 0_0

[TATE BENTON]

Tate was wandering the halls by herself.

She didn't know why she was, because she didn't like the dark. But she also didn't like silence, so sitting in her dark, silent dorm room was just a horrid idea.

Occasionally she would see a shadow out of the corner of her eye. Apparently, Pallida was her companion tonight.

Tate shuddered, shrinking away from the haunting looking girl. She hated Pallida. Maybe she could out run her..

Tate took off sprinting down the hall, and suddenly her tormentor's face appeared before her. With a shriek of terror, Charlotte Benton switched directions and threw open a door, slamming it shut behind her.

Panting, she leaned forward against the cool door, a few tears on her cheek. She despised being crazy. Why couldn't she be normal? Everyone was. Except her. Her life was like a dang horror movie.

Suddenly there was a chill down her spine. She knew that feeling too well. She wasn't alone. She turned, and gasped in fearful surprise at a boy sitting in the corner. Clutching at her collarbone, she caught her breath.

Her curiosity flared.

"Who are you? Why are you sitting in the cooler?"

OUTFIT
Tate's schizophrenic, so she has these things that she sees around her. This particular one is a little demonic girl (think Exorcism), named Pallida mors.

[TUESDAY DAVENPORT]

((you know what, fuck it, I'll fix the italics when I get a computer))

Tuesday hugged his knees as tightly as he could, thinking of how much this totally reminded him of that one survival movie...which one was that? You know, the guy with the like, half-Afro, half-spiky hipster hair, and the water bottle on top of the rocks that they'd had that really long scene climbing up to get and stuff? Oh, and they'd had pie at the end.

Tuesday was attempting to keep his mind focused on something, anything, remembering that thing the guy on Discovery Channel had said about never waking up if you fell asleep when you were freezing or something, but as the numbness spread up his body he could feel his thoughts wandering further and further from his control. Wow, he really liked pie. He'd had a really good pie once, at this one kid's birthday party. That had been a really fun birthday party, except his brother hadn't been there, so actually it had been pretty lame. Wow, he really-

And then the door was open. Tuesday was filled with elation for the briefest of instants, but before he could spring to his feet it had swung shut again. And then there was a girl in there.

No, wait, what? Back up. Hold the phone. There was a girl in this pantry with him, where just a second ago there had literally been no girl at all.

Hm.

"Uh. Hi." She was probably a hallucination, like one of those angels that was supposed to come to you when you were like, dying or something? Or wait, maybe ghat was Jesus. She didn't look like Jesus.

"Who are you? And why are you sitting in the cooler?"

Great, just great, thought Tuesday, as the situation began to dawn on him. Now we're both stuck in here.He totally wasn't claustrophobic, no way, but this was getting a tad ridiculous.

"I...just...uh..." Shoot, she was going to think he was totally not cool if he told her the truth. "Why are you in the cooler?" he countered, narrowing his eyes and changing the subject hurriedly.

[TATE BENTON]

"Uh. Hi."

Tate tilted her head to the side, studying the guy curiously.
He was pretty.

"I...just...uh... Why are you in the cooler?"
The boy narrowed his eyes at her and she felt surprised at the counter. Well, he had her there.

"I was running away from the dead girl who follows me."
He probably wouldn't believe her. No one did. But it didn't stop her from being honest.

She turned to open the cooler door and see if she was gone. There was no handle.
Oh.
That explained it.

Feeling that there was nothing more to be done, Tate went and sat beside the boy. She curled into a ball, her arms starting to erupt with goosebumps at the frosty air.

"My name is Charlotte. But I hate that name, so people call me Tate. What's your name? You never did say how you got stuck in here, by the way. You're pretty, but that doesn't mean you're stupid."

Painfully Honest, thy name is Charlotte Benton.

She shivered, then tossed her ponytail to look at him.

"How long have you been in here?"

[TUESDAY DAVENPORT]

Tuesday watched as the girl just freaking made herself at home in this like, cold closet thing. Well, that made one of them who was totally at ease in this place. God, could morning just like, come already? Or a janitor, or something to let him out of this godforsaken place? This girl could stay if she was so inclined or whatever. But damnit, Tuesday had been here way too long.

"I was running away from the dead girl who follows me."

Wow. Okay. Great. Great. Tuesday would get locked in a pantry with the weird kid from the Sixth Sense who saw dead people everywhere or whatever. Why couldn't anything be just like, normal in his life? Seriously. "Uh. Cool. Sounds, uh, legit." How did you even respond to something like that. Uh, oh yeah, me too. I love when dead people follow me around, that being a totally like, normal-person thing and all.

God was it cold in here.

"My name is Charlotte. But I hate that name, so people call me Tate. What's your name? You never did say how you got stuck in here, by the way. You're pretty, but that doesn't mean you're stupid."

”Oh uh, hi, Charlotte, er, Tate. I’m…Tuesday.” He realized as the words left his mouth how weird his name sounded out of context. He felt a sudden pang of longing in his chest: he wished Thursday was here. This would all be so much better if his brother was here with him: he’d be distracted from the cold, and so much less…alone. Less like half of his chest was missing.

How he’d gotten stuck here? Okay, this was where things got awkward. He sighed. ”So you know how the dining hall closes at 8?” Of course she knows that, you idiot, she goes here. ”Well, I was really hungry, and it was like, ten, and being the dumb idiot I am I decided to go and get some food, and then…yeah.” He shrugged lamely, realizing that he totally could have made up some exciting like, adventure story with wild people kidnapping him and forcing him in here or something. Well, whatever. As long as his name was uncool, he might as well complete the image.

You’re pretty, but that doesn’t mean you’re stupid.

”Uh.” Was that a compliment or an insult? Or a double insult-compliment-insult-thing? Was ‘pretty’ something a girl generally called a guy? Was that a thing? Should he like, have a comeback in mind or something? ”Thanks?” Tuesday was totally not in the zone today, completely unable to draw up his usual snappy comebacks and flippant remarks. Or maybe this girl was just weird.

"How long have you been in here?"

Finally, a straightforward question. ”Three hours. And counting.” He shrugged, pulling open yet another bag of Chips Ahoy. ”Cookies?”

[TATE BENTON]

"Uh. Cool. Sounds, uh, legit."

Yeah, sure it did.
She shrugged. It is what it is. And it was definitely not normal.

”Oh uh, hi, Charlotte, er, Tate. I’m…Tuesday.”

Tate's face split into a wide, shiny smile.

"Wow! That is the greatest name I ever heard of!"

Of all the people to be stuck in a cooler with! How absolutely fascinating. She folded her arms atop her knees and rested her chin on them, watching him with unwavering interest.

”So you know how the dining hall closes at 8? Well, I was really hungry, and it was like, ten, and being the dumb idiot I am I decided to go and get some food, and then…yeah.”

She shrugged at his tale.

"It's not your fault you were hungry. It was the manufacturer's fault. They should make a handle that won't fall off."

He gave her a strange look when she called him pretty. She should have seen it coming. Boys were not generally referred to as such. More commonly, handsome or good-looking, even the occasional super-mega-foxy-awesome-hot. Not pretty.

”Uh. Thanks? Three hours. And counting. Cookies?”

He held out a box of cookies to her and she gave a little shy smile, shivering as she took a cookie.

"Thanks,Tuesday."

[TUESDAY DAVENPORT]

Well. This was rather awkward.

Tuesday put a cookie into his mouth, conscious of how weirdly loud the crunching was. Like, seriously, he felt like he could hear the grinding of his teeth against the sugar and chocolate chips echoing across the entire city, waking up everyone who was sleeping and just being, like…loud. In general.

This was so awkward. He didn’t even know anything about this girl. Oh, except that she had dead people following her around. Which was fantastic.

"Wow! That is the greatest name I ever heard of!"

Tuesday raised an eyebrow. “Wait, what? Really?” Thanks, you idiot. Just thank her. ”Uh…thanks.” He’d definitely heard of better names in his life. Like Jeremiah. He’d always thought it would be really cool to be named Jeremiah. All official-sounding and all that, with the added bonus of never having to explain why there was a day of the week written on your nametag all the time. ”Tate is a…cool name too,” he replied lamely, though he’d totally never known that it was a girl’s name. ”How, uh, do you get that from ‘Charlotte’?” He hoped she wouldn’t find that offensive or anything. Did “Charlotte” have all the letters “T, A, T, and E?” in it? He counted on his fingers. Yeah, yeah, it did, but totally not in the right order. At all.

Of course, he was dealing with a girl hid in pantries from voices in her head or whatever. So there was also that.

"It's not your fault you were hungry. It was the manufacturer's fault. They should make a handle that won't fall off."

Did this girl have like, an exponentially higher IQ than he had? Or was she just weird? Either way, he was having difficulty following everything she was saying to him. His hunger was the fault of the people who had created the door? ”Nah, it was definitely my fault.” Tuesday shrugged. ”I mean, I’m the stupid one who just runs into random doors without like, checking what’s behind them or anything.” He shrugged sheepishly.

"Thanks,Tuesday."

He wasn’t sure how to respond as she munched the cookie quietly, so he gave a small chuckle. Not so much an actual outburst of laughter at like, a joke or something, but more like a Facebook laugh. Like, if the “haha” that people always put before their Facebook messages was like, real in the world somehow, this would be that laugh. Yeah. ”No problem, Tate.” He grinned, stuffing another cookie in his mouth. For stale bundles of starch and preservatives, they really weren’t half bad.

[TATE BENTON]

Tuesday frowned with surprise.
“Wait, what? Really? Uh…thanks.”

She smiled and nodded, amused.

”Tate is a…cool name too. How, uh, do you get that from ‘Charlotte’?”

She shrugged, taking a little bite of cookie.

"You know how some little kids write their names on their projects and it looks more like alphabet soup than a name? That was me. And the most recognizable letters were T, A, T, and E. So when I was in Kindergarten, the teacher started calling me Tate. I've preferred it ever since."

”Nah, it was definitely my fault.”
Tuesday shrugged. ”I mean, I’m the stupid one who just runs into random doors without like, checking what’s behind them or anything.”
He shrugged again and she shook her head.

"Either way, how were you possibly to think that the door handle might just break off?"

She rubbed at her arms, shivering a bit. Stupid fridge with it's stupid cooling systems.

”No problem, Tate.”

Grinning at him, she curled herself into an even tighter ball, attempting to force the cold from her skin. Man, did she pick the wrong day to wear a tank..


(MUGS IS SO OUT OF SHAPE FOR WRITING!! Please excuse the shortness and hideousness..)

[TUESDAY DAVENPORT]

He shoveled another cookie in his mouth, wondering if this was a good idea. He was probably going to get fat from eating all these cookies, right? Tuesday had never really been fat, but then again, he never really ate that much. Not that he was anorexic or anything, God no. He just always forgot. There was always something more interesting going on than sitting in a chair putting something in your mouth. Right?

But these cookies. He just wanted to keep eating them. He felt like that one guy in the Adam Sandler movie his friend had made him watch once, where there was some fat guy eating cookies in the corner through like, an entire scene. And the scene had been important and everything, but Tuesday had never really been able to pay attention because he was too engrossed in watching the cookie-eating dude in the corner. Seriously. He had stolen that scene. And Tuesday totally could have been that cookie-eating dude.

"You know how some little kids write their names on their projects and it looks more like alphabet soup than a name? That was me. And the most recognizable letters were T, A, T, and E. So when I was in Kindergarten, the teacher started calling me Tate. I've preferred it ever since."

Tuesday had always hated little kids, and had also never eaten alphabet soup in his life, so he wasn’t really sure what she was talking about. But he nodded anyway, because he totally didn’t want to sound like some kind of…what was the opposite of pedophile? Did that word like, even exist? Well, whatever it was, he didn’t want to sound like one. ”Hm. Interesting,” he remarked through a mouthful of cookie. ”I wish I had a cool story like that about my name. But my parents are just weird. Probably. Or major assholes. Or something.” He shrugged. But why would you want to be called “Tate” anyways? Tuesday had know a Tate once. But he’d been a major jerk and stolen Tuesday’s lunch money this one time, so Tuesday was probably a little biased.

He shivered and tried not to curl into a ball and hug himself tightly like a little weakling or something. ”God damn it’s cold in here.”

Of course, this girl looked way worse off. Seriously, she was wearing like, a shirt that was not in any way a shirt. Tuesday was wearing alpaca furs compared to her. ”Hey, hey, d’you wanna, uh…” He thought for a minute, realizing that he totally would freeze to death if he took off his jacket now. ”…share my jacket?” he asked meekly. He scooted a little bit closer, hoping she was too cold to feel as awkward as he was.

[TATE BENTON]

”Hm. Interesting. I wish I had a cool story like that about my name. But my parents are just weird. Probably. Or major assholes. Or something.”

Tate smiled a little, and her mouth opened to comment, but she snapped it shut quickly. Her eyes widened a bit, trying to control her sporadic thoughts and outbursts of activity.

”God damn it’s cold in here.”

She laughed suddenly, then covered her mouth. Tate couldn't even trust herself to speak. She could hear the hissing begin to start and realized that he had better keep talking to her, or her hallucinations would creep up quickly.

”Hey, hey, d’you wanna, uh……share my jacket?” Tuesday asked, offering some of his jacket kind of shyly.

Tate gave him a small smile, hoping that he couldn't see her cheeks tinge pink in the low light. The hissing grew louder and she scooted over to him, and snuggled into the other side of his jacket.

Compared to Tuesday, Tate was quite warm, so she leaned into him, attempting to radiate her heat, while simultaneously attempting to escape her disorder.

[TUESDAY DAVENPORT]

Okay, this was awkward. He’d totally offered her his jacket, well, the sharing of his jacket, and she had totally not done anything, and wow, this was just really, really awkward, wasn’t it? This was almost as awkward as that time when he’d thought this one kid in the lunch line was Thursday so he’d gone up and knocked him on the head with a book and started singing SexyBack really loudly and then it turned out not to be Thursday but some other weird not-Thursday kid and yeah, that had been really awkward. And so was this. Yep. Hm. Tuesday glanced around nervously, wondering if there was some way he could pass this off as like, just a normal thing he usually did, and that this situation was totally normal. But nope. He was just locked in a pantry. With a girl. Who probably thought he was making sexual advances like a creepy pedophile person. And was refusing them. Which was awkward.

Had he mentioned that this was really, really awkward?

And then…

Holy shit. She was in his jacket.

Hm. Okay. Well. This was slightly less awkward. Or more. Depending on which way you sliced it. Actually, you know what? This whole situation was like, mega-ultra-awkward. Like, a superhero awkward. If you looked up the word “awkward” in the dictionary, there would be a url, linking to a gif of himself and this weird red-haired girl in this closet, inside a jacket.

”Uh, hey,” he said softly, not really sure what he was supposed to be doing. ”What’s, uh, up? What’s up. Tuesday, you idiot.

But actually. Was he supposed to put his arm around her? But no, that wouldn’t be right. He and November were…actually no. No, they weren’t. Were they? No, they…okay, maybe. No, no, no, definite, emphatic, no.

So he put his arm around her, not sure why this weird sense of guilt was rising in his chest. He was just keeping her warm, right? Nothing serious. Nothing serious at all.