▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇

WHAT WORD WOULD YOU USE TO DESCRIBE VERNON SŪN?

The best advice this girl would give you is to read the assigned questions before overlooking and analyzing the text. This is the question. So think about your answer as you watch Vernon Sūn eventually unravel into a tangled mess of bitten, bent electronic computer cords and frayed yarn strings hanging on hooks.

Side note: these cords and strings would be colored pink. Like her insides. Warm and wet and disgusting and definitely alive. That's how you knew it was her. At least, that's how she felt. She was a living thing, this deemed-to-be an organic computer that existed within societal reaches as a functioning entity. She was something, according to the world, real. She was made of these spools of string, rolled up tight and stacked onto one another━━made of electronic cords connected to one another, sending sparks and signals across every part of her body to make sure she was doing what needed to be done.

Suggested words that often came up to fit her classified description are aplenty. Nice, thoughtful, patient, prudent. She is a nice girl with a nice face and nice habits, like folding her clothes with care and saying "pardon?" when she isn't able to catch part of your conversation. But there are also ones that shed her in a negative light. Morbid, cynical, detached, glum. She is a morbid girl who spoke of morbid things and thought of experiencing morbid actions, such as having her body dismembered and the sharp-turning-numb feeling as the saw runs through your bone.

Once, her friends' parents said she was 'incredibly parsimonious.' She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. They said this because of her eating and purchasing habits during a visit to the mall. Her friends' parents were a third grade English teacher and a pastor, so she took this comment's possible connotations with a grain of salt.

There were many words in the English language, some descriptors more vulgar than others, but the word that Vernon seemed to be closer than most to was actually a hyphenated two-parter. Half-assed.

She apologizes for that. Her mother just says that she wasn't born right, that's why. Apparently, she owes the world something she didn't even know about.

There was always something unfinished with Vernon. She tended to not give you the full picture when describing something, pointing out the small details that she believed to be part of an unknown whole. She often left assignments unfinished until the very last minute despite having the best grades, and ironically (possibly hypocritically), she was never satisfied with herself. She was never enough, her mother said. She hesitated. She treaded infuriatingly quietly. She was scared of everything in the world and how anything could kill her, like pregnancy or a ferry boat ride. Part of her behaviors were good in the eyes of... well... society? But then another part of her was demanded to be shut inside her, unspoken of and dismissed because you couldn't just tell anyone there was truly something wrong in your brain.

The stigma against sadness was prevalent in this household. No one could be sad when your parents and their parents had gone through so much worse, toiling on fields and railroads and sailing ships, sweaty bodies sticking together like glue and paper as babies cried and people complained. No one could be sad when your parents and their parents had to take scraps and crap from the people of this place to survive, staying silent about being dehumanized by people who think your people are the same who supposedly started some conflict practically ages ago.

That is what Sūn Qinyang told her daughter, and that's why her daughter chose to stay silent. Well, okay, it wasn't much of a choice, but it had its substance. Stay silent or experience worse wrath from your mother.

In essence, Vernon did not fit the mold. Vernon was not enough. Vernon was incomplete as a young woman. Vernon was not normal enough. Vernon could not think clearly.

What lacked tempted her, filled her desires to be ordinary, to be received well by an audience. And while she was received well with this guise, she couldn't help but feel a bit lonely.

So beyond the word 'half-assed' of which she eventually accepted in life, the word Vernon aspired to be was perfectly compos mentis. Normal. Whole.

★彡

IF FAYE SŪN COULD DESCRIBE HIS TWIN SISTER, THE WORD HE WOULD USE IN THE FACE OF HAVING TO TALK TO HER WAS 'DREAD.'

He dreaded any moment forced to be in her proximity. She was rarely nice. She never considered him sometimes. It was always Mā, Mā, Mā, and only Mā━━if you ruined this, she'd probably ruin you. She always wore nice clothes (she looked like a doll at a funeral), she always had good grades (accompanied with the worst eye bags because of the late nights she'd pull off studying), and she was always busy with something, whether it was appeasing Mrs. Nguyen-Lewis at viola lessons or paperwork as student council president (what the hell!). And even if all of that stressed her out, Faye still found himself despising her whenever she'd snap at him, barely spare a glance as he'd walk into the room, and yell at him about how embarrassing he was whenever they were nearby. Maybe she meant well deep within that stony heart. Faye just clung onto that small possibility. She was his sister, after all, but sometimes he forgot they were even related. He loved her, he just didn't like her very much. She was kind and considerate towards everyone but him and his friends.

(But, yeah, he was pretty embarrassing. He did some of that on purpose during lunch at school. He sang her Happy Birthday while doing the most ridiculous ass-shaking, arm-flailing dance on the cafeteria tables and playing music over the school speakers. Her birthday was his birthday. He could do what he wanted. What he wanted included Madonna and yelling in the cafeteria, listening to his voice echoing off the walls as everyone cheered.)

There was an analogy he used often in his head when thinking of her. It was a result from his childhood interests (i.e., the weird kid in your class that liked snakes and spiders and whatever the fuck an arthropod was). She was a bamboo viper and he was a simple garter, both green but one was ultimately the better hunter, the most toxic, the one with figuratively (he wasn't sure if it was literally) sharper fangs and better attributes. Each had their worth, but one always had more attention than the other for obvious reasons. And that attention was garnered from Sūn Qinyang, who he mentally dubbed as his keeper by now.

There were many different names for mothers. This was one of them. Her children were not always cases of dignity, and someone had to keep them in line and locked up before they both imploded. Without her, they'd become a circus of actual shit.

So the preempt notion of having to speak to the keeper's favorite for a favor━━which included not telling their mother about something━━was nerve-wracking enough to be on Faye's mind throughout the entire day. He chewed on his nails during English class, eyes darting from his assignment copy of The Tell-Tale Heart to Vernon, who sat on the other side of the classroom, somewhere in the back with her friends. Jackie was leaning into the table group of four, assumably gossiping about something new, while Vernon had her back turned to Faye, sitting across from Jackie and clicking her crochet hooks together beneath the table to hide them from the teacher. Every once and a while, her eyes seemed to divert to her right side, pinned straight onto Faye with some sort of irritation.

Get him out of here. Save him. Please. The school counselors put them both in the same English class by accident and it had been both of their reckoning. It was easy to mess with Vernon, but it wasn't easy to ask for help.

"Stop staring at Jennifer. She's gonna think you're into her again."

"I don't care about Jennifer Connelly. Frankly, I think she cares more about you than me at this point," Faye seethed to his seat partner. Michael leaned back in his chair, veering close to Faye and whispering in his ear. Michael's smirk was louder and it was annoying.

"She's looking," Michael said. Blonde, balmy, stupid Jennifer was sitting next to Vernon, reaching down her side to grab something from her backpack.

She looked up, holding her pencil case, and she stared back at Faye with some arch.

Faye decided to glare back and turn to his table group instead.

Ms. Tannebaum's tables were arranged rather unorthtodox, tables turned into each other to create groups of four with less-than-white foldable chairs, two on one side and two on the other like a dinner table. Most groups had four students seating, but some had three, which left Faye and Michael seated together with Jeremy sitting across from them next to a vacant seat for his backpack. Unfair, but you get what you get.

Sometimes Faye would get to class earlier just to use it as a footrest instead. Jeremy would have no other choice but to put his bag on the floor.

"You seriously need to repaint your nails. You've been biting them all period," Michael spoke again. "Vernon stole your black polish again?"

Faye frowned at his paper. "Yes. And my fucking hair ties. And my grommet belt for her skirt. And the shark necklace I got at the aquarium that I was gonna wear today!"

"She's boring, but at least she cares about how she looks," His friend muttered.

"How am I supposed to reply to that?" Faye whined. Jeremy was laying over the desks, drawing something stupid on the top corner of Faye's paper. "You think my sister's pretty, too? You should see her hair in the morning, I genuinely think it's another organism. Or, like, a bird's nest after a tornado."

"I'm complimenting your taste, be nicer." Michael tilted his head forward to get another glance of Vernon. "Dresses alright but she's bitchy as hell. That leather jacket looks like your dad's."

"She steals anything she can find if she likes it." Faye slumped over his desk, wrinkling his paper and bending the cover of his notebook by accident, much to Jeremy's visible dismay. It was simply work time and Ms. Tannebaum just let them do their thing as long as they did their assignments.

"Siblings steal all the time," Jeremy shrugged. He had his eyes back on his own copy of the poetry assignment. "You take Vernon's shoes pretty often and she hasn't been that visibly angry."

"Well that's because she's got, like, three pairs of Mary Janes, two pairs of Reeboks, and two pairs of Doc Martens. She has too many besides those white sneakers she always wears to P.E."

"And you have millions of necklaces. You're wearing four right now."

Okay, maybe Jeremy was right, but come on.

"Are you getting all worked up because you haven't asked her yet?" Michael interjected as Jeremy continued writing on his assignment. Though Jeremy was part of a friend group who would skip any day of school if they could, he didn't care and did his own thing. Not like they'd abandon him anyway. "She seriously can't be that mad at you."

Faye rolled his eyes. "She's still mad at me about her viola. It was literally just about needing a new bow, I barely did anything! I didn't break it! I just brought it to school for her 'cause she forgot it!"

"You really don't have to ask." Michael scoffed, his eyes wandering elsewhere. His nonchalance spoke over the real reason Faye needed to bother his sister. "I'd... rather crash at the Geralds'."

"Didn't your father get Mr. Gerald's phone number?" Jeremy pointed his pencil at him. "You're not risking it. Not the Geralds, not Mr. Lane's, and not my place. You'll be caught."

"Well, I'll find somewhere else. Not like those are the only places in Hurricane that can take me. I don't wanna keep on bothering you with all this nonsense, it honestly feels wrong."

"You're not bothering me," Faye frowned. "I'll drag you to my place if I have to. My closet is huge, you can hide there if anyone comes into my room."

"I'll just deal with my father tonight."

"Oh, hell no! I'm not letting you." He sent Ms. Tannebaum a gestured apology for raising his voice, giving her a contrite smile before turning back to Michael. "You can't keep tolerating him without some sort of help. He's such a dick."

"Yeah, I know," Michael glowered at his friend. "So I'll just deal on my own."

"I'm dragging you to my place. My parents never go to my room and some of you guys have snuck in there loads of times," Faye kept on going and going. Michael knew it was difficult to win an argument with him. He always pulled evidence out of his ass, which was probably why he was so good at writing for this English class. "My mom's hosting a small dinner night with Dad's cousins, so they'll be busy gossiping about me instead of actually trying to talk to me. That way, my room will be off-limits. Mom gave up trying to clean my room ages ago. Dad leaves me to my privacy."

"What about Vernon?" Jeremy asked. Faye swore she overheard them and felt her eyes boring into his skull from her table. He did his best to remain self-possessed. He probably looked like he was about to explode.

"Aunts will be gushing over her, obviously." Faye (successfully?) deadpanned. "That's all they do. She'll be too busy being embarrassed."

He hoped Michael couldn't read the tinge of envy in his voice, but honestly, it seemed obvious.

Let's just say Faye Sūn love, love, loved attention as a result of not getting too much compared to Vernon. He was not the young Chinese man he should have been, and some of his relatives were fairly disappointed since, "oh, your parents did so much just to stabilize your future!" and, "Faye, you are wasting all your potential on things that do not matter..."

Buying all the jewelry at the hippie drugstore across from the church did matter, thank you very much. Failing in everything but English and Science class should've mattered too━━not like he was failing the language his relatives were so proud of mastering before moving here on account of marrying people who knew it better. They always bragged about their lack-of-accent when speaking English when they were younger, his dad commented once, and despite being older they still held pride in what they could say.

If he wasn't enough, then what was enough to these people? Honestly, the kids in this family couldn't catch a break.

As he stood up from his desk after the bell rang for passing period, he looked up in search of Vernon standing on the other side of the room. He was gonna suck it up, he was gonna ask her for that favor.

It took a moment for him to realize that as he was contemplating his actions, she passed by him. Just like that. Without any sort of acknowledgment that her brother existed at all.

Damnit, he needed to get his act together!

If Faye Sūn could describe himself in what he knew to be in Vernon's eyes, he'd say he was notional. A concept. A suggestion at what she could have left.

★彡

MICHAEL AFTON HAD MANY THINGS TO SAY ABOUT VERNON SŪN, BUT HE WOULD RATHER CONDENSE HIS THOUGHTS IN THIS SECTION OF THE CHAPTER TO SPARE YOU THE TROUBLE. Despite what everyone kind of knew━━the fact that Vernon hated Michael's guts!━━he'd say there was more to everything than merely being a pest in this girl's life. She was on the prowl for some sort of paraquat that could erase him from her day-to-day life, but he was basically an immortal fly. That was all, that was funny, and that was what Vernon hated.

Michael Afton should not have mattered. He found it funny that the opposite was being displayed. He mattered a bit too much for his liking to some people, whether for a big time crush or burning hatred.

The hate started in middle school. He remembered the day he befriended Faye Sūn when the twins transferred school districts━━from Salt Lake to Hurricane. The reason why they transferred together was nothing related to the sheer anger that fueled Vernon that day once Faye made a friend before her.

At first, Michael assumed she just had a bad temper seeing her brother with him, who did have the appearance of someone who was on the verge of delinquency (hell yes, he was). Irascible.

Then, her brother started having fun. Despite making so many more friends and becoming the resident nice girl, she hated seeing her brother raise the stakes of popularity for her and being able to go to parties, to befriend practically anyone simply because of his outgoing-ness, being a mess but the kind that everyone was head over heels for. Short-sighted.

After a while, Michael found out that the two had been almost inseparable before sixth grade started, and middle school became the rift between them that showed their differences. Jealous.

This girl was jealous! And it seemed like it was Michael Afton's fault. But that shouldn't have been where the blame landed because Faye was perfectly capable of making friends and it seemed as if she was just attempting to amend and justify that simultaneously with all these small little actions. The stolen clothes, the snappy remarks. Small actions carried enough subtlety to pass Faye as just Vernon being Vernon: sour.

Art class was the sixth━━and last━━period of Michael's day. Unfortunately, it was also Vernon's. He entered Mr. Carefield's classroom without a care in the world after walking Jeremy to his class to find a chart on the chalkboard.

New seats. Of all days, too.

He sighed to himself. Of course the person Faye had been bothered about all day had to be his new seat partner. He saw her name right next to his, chalked up on the green board and written in white within the squares and rectangles representing each desk. Vernon goes here. Michael goes there.

The top of the chart represented Carefield's desk, and he drew himself, ironically as a small and stylized stick figure, with such an innocent little smiley-face.

See, the thing was that Michael's usual seat and easel was in the back corner of the room, which had him free to be alone and listen to his walkman in absolute peace. Somehow he was able to hold in the urge to express his lingering anger in... other violent terms. And he loved it. This classroom was his outlet. Mr. Carefield really knew what he was doing before this move.

Now he was by the windows, which wasn't as bad, but this put him on Vernon's left. He was cornered and he had to waste his energy being a jerk now.

He dropped his bag haphazardly by the stool in front of his new easel and threw his sketchbook on his desk. Mr. Carefield began to announce start-of-class reminders as he sat down, opening his sketchbook to the most recent pages. They'd be starting a small project this week, and all Carefield said was to draw basic thumbnails and sketches that you'd like colored. Eventually, you'd have to simply rewrite, line, and submit them for a grade.

Easy project, he thought. Michael was wrong again.

They had to exchange their thumbnails and line work with their new seat partner. Then, they would have to color someone else's work based on interpretation, gain insight from the other partner, and submit that instead of their own work. Michael grumbled to himself how unusually cruel Carefield was with setting him up next to Vernon.

Vernon sat down next to him, and like Faye, he could actually feel her eyes burning towards his direction━━searing, literally searing into his skin and follicles and brain at this point━━and he had to admit that, yes, maybe Faye was right about Vernon being a bit intimidating, but then again, she was easy to tick off when you knew how to.

Students were still filing in with a minute or two left before the bell, so Michael had some time to observe his surroundings. He played with the small fingerboard attached to his keychain and let it flip onto Vernon's desk, seeing how she'd react to the scraping wheels.

"You have your own space, Michael." She was straight to the point. "If you get to put your sketchbook on your desk, then so can I, right?"

"Whatever. It's so clean, anyway," Michael taunted. "It's too clean━━looks like you've never used it from the outside."

"And yours looks like it was halfway down a paper shredder." She said pointedly, looking over the pasted cut-outs and black drawings all over the purple cover.

"Carefield says it looks like I took better liberty in using it. That's why I got the highest grade in this class—"

"As if." She quickly interrupted him, stared him down, then turned back to her supplies. Using the eraser of her pencil, she dragged it down the furthest and closest ends of their shared table. An invisible line, as perfect as the edge of a ruler, with small shreds of eraser crumbs following its path. "Your side. My side."

He raised an eyebrow, looking at her in exasperation. "You're kind of boring, you know that? And weirdly scary."

"So what?" She retorted, rather fed up with him already. "You'd think anything is boring after hanging out with Faye." Her voice softened ever so slightly, to his surprise. "Everyone does."

He wasn't sure how to respond. This left him susceptible to being beaten by the sound of the bell.

How was he supposed to accomplish a partner assignment with Vernon Sūn? Could you imagine? It was her way, the most accessible way, or no way. Three options, two of which were composed of her vices and preferences. At least, those were the options most people knew. There had to be more, but many feared talking back. Vernon could be nice, maybe, and a lot of the girls and some of the guys really liked her, but she was the one who did all the work.

Because of being the beloved, reclusive 'hard-worker,' it seemed not only unfair, but a bit dangerous to take over. Thing is, this was Michael. Most of the time, he ignored those boundaries in favor of something less dull.

"Your project will be due by next Friday," Mr. Carefield apprised the art students. "We will have class time to work on your illustration exchange only for today and next Tuesday when you have me, as we'll be working on the mural for the cafeteria on Wednesday like we always do, so spend your time wisely. You may also utilize the art rook during lunch if you really need to squeeze time in."

Even if Michael did need to use that time during lunch to try to get this project over with, he doubted he or Vernon would be able to tolerate being in each other's vicinity for forty-five minutes without a small disagreement or two. Besides, what would Faye even say?

Michael snuck a glance to his side, finding Vernon retaining her usual remote and placid composure, with her attention fully given to the teacher in spite of what qualms she had against her new seat partner and this project.

Vernon was simultaneously distant and accommodating to others' approval. That was something he noticed. In truth, she was never boring. He just used that to tease her, but he knew she had more to why she was so complaisant. Why was she even like this at all?

Complaisant was the word he'd use to describe Vernon. It didn't capture her entirely, obviously, but what else is there to say?

▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇

notes:

guess who finally finished the first chapter of gmatm <33 (i am the slowest writer in the world bear with me)
tysm to those who checked this fic out already!!! vernon means the world to me as she is a mess with some mommy issues and that will be demonstrated as the story continues.
she's also extremely ocd coded as no one ever talks about ocd ever/makes it rightly represented and it pisses me off :(( neurodivergent kids need some love (prime example is me) and i want to represent them in my fics

but yeah!!! look at her already wanting to kill michael!! she has some silly attachment/jealousy issues mannnnnn but that's okay! :3 look at her being distant from her twin brother too!! greaaaat!!!

i'll try to get faster at continuing this fic, i'm already so excited for it to keep on going anyway!!! i really hope u guys enjoy :33333 even if this is pre-game, i will sprinkle murder in don't u worry friends this is the fnaf universe it is still very much fucked up

xoxo bai

written november 1st.