Chapter Text
Shadow Milk groaned the second the alarm pierced through his room again, sharp and repetitive like it had a personal vendetta against him. He didn’t even open his eyes at first, just blindly reached toward the nightstand and smacked at the clock until it wobbled violently but refused to stop. With a frustrated sigh, he forced one eye open and glared at it, the glowing red numbers burning into his vision—7:00. Seven. In. The. Morning. Absolutely criminal. He let out a long, dramatic groan and flopped back into his pillow like he might simply dissolve into it if he tried hard enough. “This is oppression,” he muttered into the fabric, voice muffled. “Actual oppression.” The alarm kept ringing. Of course it did. It had no mercy, no empathy, no understanding of the deep suffering of a teenager forced into the horrors of high school at such an unreasonable hour. With one final, defeated sigh, he reached out again and actually turned it off this time, the sudden silence almost too loud after the noise. He stared up at the ceiling, unmoving, like if he stayed still enough time itself might pause and spare him. It didn’t. It never did.
He dragged himself upright slowly, hair completely ruined, strands sticking out in every direction like he had been electrocuted in his sleep. His expression was blank in that very specific way that meant he was already tired of the day before it even began. “I hate high school,” he said out loud, because saying it internally wasn’t enough. It needed to be declared. It needed to be felt. And honestly? He had every right to hate it. People at school didn’t get him—said he was “too dramatic,” “too intense,” “kind of weird,” as if those weren’t qualities that made life interesting. Apparently narrating your own thoughts, making things theatrical, and having actual personality was something to be judged for. Ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. He did technically have friends—Candy Apple Cookie and Black Sapphire Cookie—but even that came with complications. Candy Apple was chaotic in a way that often dragged him into situations he absolutely did not ask for, and Black Sapphire… well, Black Sapphire preferred silence and observation, which meant Shadow Milk was usually left carrying conversations on his own. It wasn’t ideal.
He finally forced himself out of bed, dragging his feet across the floor as he made his way to the bathroom, every step heavy like gravity had doubled overnight just to make things worse for him. The mirror greeted him with a truly tragic sight—his hair was a disaster, his eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, and his overall expression screamed I should not be awake right now. “…Incredible,” he muttered dryly. “I look like I’ve suffered a great tragedy.” He turned the shower on and stepped in, letting the hot water hit his skin, slowly waking him up whether he liked it or not. For a brief moment, there was peace—just the sound of water, the warmth, the quiet. It almost made things bearable. Almost. Then his brain, unfortunately, decided to start functioning again, and with it came the memory of his schedule. Math. History. Chemistry. And then—he physically paused mid-thought, leaning one hand against the shower wall—PE. His expression darkened immediately. Burning Spice Cookie. The PE teacher. The loudest, most unnecessarily aggressive person to ever exist in an educational setting. Shadow Milk swore that man thrived off yelling. “RUN FASTER!” “WHY ARE YOU WALKING?!” “PUT MORE ENERGY INTO IT!” He could hear it already, echoing in his mind like a curse he couldn’t escape. Last week, someone got yelled at for breathing too loudly. Breathing. Too loudly. Shadow Milk still wasn’t over it.
He turned the water off with a frustrated sigh and stepped out, drying himself off before getting dressed in his uniform—a dark blazer, crisp white shirt, and a tie that never sat correctly no matter how many times he adjusted it. He tugged at it now, frowning slightly at his reflection as if the tie itself had wronged him personally. “Why do I even bother,” he muttered, though he still fixed it anyway. He grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder, pausing in front of the mirror one last time. For a second, he just stared at himself, expression unreadable, then slowly narrowed his eyes like he was making some kind of internal decision. “…Fine,” he said quietly, but with dramatic weight. “If I am forced to endure this place…” He straightened his posture slightly, adjusting his blazer. “…then I will at least be the most interesting person there.” It wasn’t much, but it was something. A goal. A principle. A reason to survive the day.
He grabbed his phone and headed out of his room, the house still quiet, the morning not fully awake yet. Everything felt too early, too still, like the world itself was reluctant to start the day. Unfortunately, time wasn’t going to stop for him. First period started in thirty minutes. Thirty minutes until he had to deal with people, noise, expectations, and worst of all—PE later in the day. Shadow Milk let out one last dramatic sigh as he headed toward the door. High school wasn’t just annoying. It was a daily test of patience, endurance, and emotional resilience. And he was absolutely certain of one thing. This day was going to be exhausting.
Shadow Milk had just grabbed his phone and adjusted his blazer when something felt… off. The house was too quiet—unnaturally quiet, like the kind of silence that only existed when something had gone very, very wrong. He paused near the doorway, eyes narrowing slightly as he checked the time again. 7:18. His gaze slowly drifted down the hallway toward a very specific door, and the realization hit him all at once like a slow, inevitable disaster. “…No,” he muttered under his breath, already feeling the exhaustion settling deeper into his bones. “Don’t tell me she’s still asleep.” The silence didn’t answer him, which was answer enough. He closed his eyes briefly, inhaling as if preparing himself mentally for what was about to happen. “…Of course she is.” There was a pause—one last moment where he considered, genuinely considered, just leaving. Walking out. Letting fate handle the consequences. But no. That would come back to him later, in the form of chaos, complaints, and probably being blamed for it anyway. With a long, suffering sigh, he pushed himself off the wall and started walking down the hallway. “Why is this my responsibility,” he murmured, even though he already knew the answer. Because he was older. Because he was the responsible one. Because if he didn’t wake her up, she simply wouldn’t wake up at all.
He reached the door and knocked—twice, firm and deliberate, the sound echoing slightly through the quiet house. “Wake up,” he called, his tone flat but loud enough to carry through the wood. He waited. Nothing. Not even a shift. His expression didn’t change, but there was a subtle tightening around his eyes that suggested his patience was already running thin. “…Candy Apple,” he tried again, louder this time, tapping his fingers against the door. Still nothing. Shadow Milk stared at the door for a long moment, as if silently judging it, before gripping the handle and pushing it open without ceremony.
The room inside looked like a small explosion had occurred overnight and simply… stayed there. Clothes were scattered across the floor in uneven piles, notebooks half-open on the desk, wrappers, random accessories, and things that didn’t even seem to have a place all blending into one chaotic mess. And right in the center of it all, completely buried under a mountain of blankets like she had intentionally cocooned herself away from reality, was Candy Apple Cookie. Fast asleep. Peaceful. Oblivious. Shadow Milk stood in the doorway for a second, taking it all in, his expression unreadable. “…Incredible,” he muttered quietly. “A true monument to disorder.” He stepped carefully into the room, navigating around the mess with practiced precision, as if this was a routine he had been forced into many times before.
He stopped beside the bed, looking down at the unmoving pile of blankets. “Wake up,” he said again, this time much closer, his voice calm but firm, carrying the quiet authority of someone who was already tired of repeating himself. There was no response. Not even a twitch. Shadow Milk’s eye twitched faintly. “…You have school,” he added, as if that would somehow make a difference. It didn’t. She remained completely still, breathing softly, comfortably lost in sleep. He stared at her for a long moment, his patience visibly thinning, before exhaling slowly. “…Fine,” he said, his tone shifting slightly into something more resigned. “We’ll do this the difficult way.” Without hesitation, he reached down, grabbed the blanket, and pulled it away in one smooth, decisive motion.
Candy Apple reacted instantly.
She shot upright with a startled gasp, hair completely messy, eyes wide and unfocused as she looked around in confusion, her brain clearly struggling to catch up with reality. “WHAT—?!” she blurted out, voice loud and disoriented, as if she had been violently dragged out of another dimension.
Shadow Milk didn’t even flinch. He simply stood there, holding the blanket in one hand, watching her with the same calm, slightly tired expression. “Good morning.”
Candy Apple blinked rapidly, trying to process what was happening, her thoughts still lagging behind her reactions. “…Why would you do that,” she said slowly, her voice hoarse with sleep, somewhere between confused and offended.
“Because you refused to wake up,” Shadow Milk replied immediately, his tone flat and matter-of-fact, like the answer was painfully obvious.
Candy Apple stared at him for a second longer, then without warning, she flopped back down onto the bed, grabbing a pillow and pulling it over her head like that would somehow undo everything. “Five more minutes,” she mumbled into the fabric, voice muffled and stubborn.
“No,” Shadow Milk said without hesitation, crossing his arms as he looked down at her.
“Yes,” she shot back immediately, not even lifting the pillow.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
She groaned loudly, dragging the pillow tighter over her head like she was trying to block him out entirely. “You’re ruining my life.”
Shadow Milk remained completely unmoved. “You have ten minutes before we’re late.”
“No we don’t.”
“We do.”
“We don’t.”
“We do.”
Candy Apple slowly pulled the pillow down just enough to glare at him, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “…You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“…You might be.”
“I’m not.”
She held his gaze for another second, trying to determine if he was bluffing, before groaning again—louder this time—and finally sitting up, her movements slow and dramatic, like getting out of bed was the hardest task imaginable. “This is evil,” she muttered as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Actual evil. I’m being oppressed in my own home.”
Shadow Milk watched her quietly for a moment, then turned slightly toward the door. “Be ready in five minutes.”
“That’s impossible!” she snapped immediately, now stumbling toward her closet, pulling clothes out with zero organization.
“You have ten.”
“That’s still impossible!”
“Then be impossible faster.”
She whipped around and threw a random object at him without aiming. It flew past his shoulder and hit the wall behind him. He didn’t even react. He just stepped back toward the door like this was expected behavior. “Out,” she said, pointing dramatically, her energy already shifting from half-asleep to chaotic.
Shadow Milk gave a small, unimpressed nod and stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him just as the sound of frantic movement immediately started inside—drawers opening, something falling, muffled complaints echoing through the room. He leaned lightly against the wall, adjusting his sleeve, listening to the chaos unfold. “…Every morning,” he muttered under his breath.
A few minutes passed like that, filled with the sounds of rushing, something hitting the floor, and Candy Apple complaining loudly about how time was “moving too fast on purpose.” Then suddenly the door burst open again, and she stepped out, slightly out of breath, hair still a bit messy, but at least dressed.
“See? I’m ready,” she said, clearly proud of herself despite the obvious rush.
Shadow Milk looked at her carefully, his gaze scanning from head to toe.
Then he glanced down.
“…Your shoe.”
Candy Apple blinked, then followed his gaze, noticing the untied lace. “…Oh.” She quickly crouched down and fixed it, movements fast but slightly clumsy, before standing back up and grinning. “Now I’m ready.”
Shadow Milk let out a quiet sigh, but there was the faintest hint of something softer in it this time—not quite annoyance, not quite amusement, but something in between. “…Let’s go before we’re actually late.”
Candy Apple perked up immediately, grabbing her bag and falling into step beside him as they started walking down the hallway together. “Wait—do we have PE today?”
Shadow Milk’s expression immediately darkened, his posture stiffening slightly like he had just been reminded of something deeply unpleasant. “…Yes.”
Candy Apple gasped dramatically, eyes widening. “OH NO—”
Shadow Milk didn’t even slow down.
“Run,” he said simply.
And just like that, the chaos of the morning followed them out the door.
The morning air outside was still crisp, the kind that carried just enough chill to wake someone up properly, even if they didn’t want to be. The streets were already filling with students, voices overlapping, footsteps quick and careless, the distant sound of traffic blending into the background like a constant hum. Shadow Milk walked slightly ahead, his posture straight, expression composed in that carefully controlled way he always carried himself in public, while Candy Apple walked beside him—but not quietly. Never quietly. She was talking about something—fast, energetic, jumping between topics with zero warning, her hands moving as much as her words.
“…and then if we’re late he’s gonna make us run laps and I am NOT running laps again because last time—”
“We are not late yet,” Shadow Milk interrupted calmly, not even looking at her as he adjusted the strap of his bag.
“YET,” Candy Apple emphasized, pointing at him dramatically. “Keyword: yet.”
Shadow Milk exhaled slowly through his nose, choosing not to engage further as the school building came into view ahead of them—large, crowded, loud, filled with far too many people for his liking. Students gathered in clusters near the entrance, some laughing, some complaining, some just standing around like they had no idea why they were there either. The noise alone was enough to make him slightly regret leaving his room that morning.
“…Unbearable,” he muttered quietly.
Candy Apple, however, perked up instantly the moment they got closer, her attention snapping toward familiar faces in the crowd. “WAIT—” she grabbed his sleeve suddenly, pulling him slightly to the side. “Look, look—”
Shadow Milk followed her gaze with mild reluctance.
Near the entrance, standing just off to the side of the main crowd, was Black Sapphire Cookie. As usual, he stood with quiet composure, his posture relaxed but attentive, his expression calm as his eyes observed everything around him without missing much. Beside him stood another student—Silver Bell Cookie—who seemed to be mid-conversation, speaking in a softer, more melodic tone, his presence noticeably gentle compared to the chaotic energy surrounding the school.
Candy Apple immediately grinned. “They’re already here!”
Shadow Milk adjusted his blazer slightly, regaining that composed, almost theatrical calm he carried when around others. “…Of course they are.”
Candy Apple didn’t wait another second. She grabbed his wrist this time and dragged him forward through the crowd with zero hesitation. “HEY!!” she called out loudly, completely unbothered by the attention it drew.
Black Sapphire turned his head slightly at the sound, his gaze landing on them almost instantly. There was a small shift in his expression—subtle, but noticeable—recognition.
Silver Bell followed his gaze, curiosity flickering in his eyes.
Candy Apple practically skidded to a stop in front of them, letting go of Shadow Milk as she threw her arms up dramatically. “We made it!”
“…Barely,” Shadow Milk added under his breath, though he stepped forward to stand beside her, posture relaxed but controlled.
Black Sapphire gave a small nod in greeting, his voice calm and even. “You’re on time.”
“SEE?” Candy Apple shot back immediately, pointing at Shadow Milk. “We’re not late.”
“You were close,” Shadow Milk replied smoothly, crossing his arms slightly.
Silver Bell let out a soft, amused laugh, the sound light compared to the tension that always seemed to follow Shadow Milk. “Good morning,” he said gently, offering a polite smile.
“Morning,” Candy Apple responded quickly, still full of energy despite everything.
Shadow Milk gave a slight nod in acknowledgment. “Good morning.”
For a moment, the group settled into a more natural rhythm, the noise of the school continuing around them but no longer as overwhelming now that they were together. Black Sapphire’s presence grounded things, Silver Bell’s calm softened the atmosphere, and Candy Apple… well, she filled any remaining silence whether it needed filling or not.
“So,” Candy Apple started, already leaning forward slightly, “are we all mentally prepared for today or—”
“No,” Shadow Milk said immediately.
Black Sapphire remained quiet for a moment before adding, “It will be manageable.”
Silver Bell smiled faintly. “We’ll get through it.”
Candy Apple looked between them, then nodded decisively. “Yeah. Together.”
Shadow Milk didn’t respond right away, but his expression softened just slightly—barely noticeable, but there.
Then, from somewhere inside the building, a loud whistle echoed.
Followed by a very familiar voice. "MOVE IT!! IF YOU’RE NOT INSIDE IN ONE MINUTE YOU’RE RUNNING LAPS!!”
The entire group froze. Shadow Milk’s expression immediately dropped.
Candy Apple slowly turned her head toward the gym entrance. “…He’s here.”
Black Sapphire sighed quietly. Silver Bell blinked.
Shadow Milk didn’t hesitate, grabbing Black Sapphire and Candy apple's hands. “Run.”