Room 505, Saturday Morning

[thatsamilkshake]

Francine wasn't unused to waking up and trying to remember where she was; after Fandom, they'd moved around a lot, first looking for a little girl's home, and after they'd found it, being dumb enough for a while not to realize there was no point in looking for theirs.

Not being alone, that wasn't unfamiliar either. So it would take her a minute or so. You know. To really open her eyes and...

Scream. As you do.

[For the girl!]

Comments

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

Well, so much for sleeping in, then, and it was a good thing Clocky's wheeled and near-indestructible ways had trained Katchoo out of attempting to smash any and all loud-noisemaking things upon being abruptly woken by them.

"Francie, 's just a nightmare, honey," she tried to mumble, tugging at Francine's arm. Or so she thought, but why else would she wake up and scream?

[thatsamilkshake]

Yes, thank you, she knew that! Did it have to be such a fucking cruel one, though? "Get away from me!"

Francine didn't wait for that to happen; she yanked her arm away, scrambling backwards off the bed. Beds. Two of them pushed together.

Which yes, resulted in landing on a cold floor in a t-shirt and shorts, but at least it was out of that bed.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

They were over this. Weren't they over this? God fucking dammit, she could've sworn they were over this.

"Francine," Katchoo said again, trying to keep her voice as calm and soothing as she could which wasn't all that easy when you were confused and about thisclose to freaking because they were supposed to be over this dammit. "It's me, okay?"

[thatsamilkshake]

No. Nonononono, it so was not, and this so wasn't their old room in the dorms, and this so wasn't that goddamn island, and Francine was so not getting any closer or doing anything but stumbling to her feet, because--

"It is not. You are not Katchoo. You're dead!"

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

And that had Katchoo struggling to disentangle herself from the blankets and stand up herself, not completely sure what was going on but the edge of the hurt was blunted, weirdly, by that declaration. "Not dead. I swear, I' not dead -- I'm right here, Francine, look at me!"

[thatsamilkshake]

"No!" Shoes. There had to be shoes. Wait, why did she care about shoes? This was a nightmare; she wasn't going to catch a cold or tetanus from running the hell AWAY in bare feet. "This isn't real. You're not real. Why am I even-- fuck!" Oh look, shoes. Right where she'd tripped over them.

Francine struggled to her feet again while shoving them into said shoes.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

Katchoo nearly stumbled and fell, swinging her feet over the edge of the bed to get up, but made a clumsy attempt to grab at Francine's hand.

"For god's sake, Francine, would you frikkin' look at me!" she tried again. Stupid chest, stupid sharp pain shooting through it like someone had just cracked four of her ribs, which was pretty much what had just happened if not in a terribly literal sense. "You're here in Fandom, in our goddamn room, just like every morning. I swear to god this is real."

[thatsamilkshake]

No, she wasn't going to look. What was, she, crazy as well as dreaming?

Maybe she was. Maybe that was it, she'd finally actually cracked, and she was in some psych ward somewhere, she got picked up mumbling on the street and Arthur wouldn't even know where to look for her. But crazy or not, she wasn't crazy enough to loo--

Of course she looked. Crap. Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap...

And then she did the only thing she could think of doing: she ran.