Room 43// An Inanimate Insanity College AU

19- I lied, this chapter is the Christmas Special for real

Paintbrush looks out the murky window of the train that's taking them back home for the winter holidays. Outside it's raining heavily, pounding on the metal roof of the train as it slowly whirred its way back to home.

They were really excited to get back home; it had been several months since they had left the city to go to college, and now they got a 2-week break to be with their family and friends in hometown before they went back. They watched out the window, earphones in and playing music that they weren't really taking the time to process.

That was, until, the song was interrupted and their phone buzzed with a notification. They turned it on, swiping up on the notification without looking at it. They were taken to the messages app, and they saw the full message there.

Marshmallow: look behind you

Ah. Marshmallow, being ominous as ever. Paintbrush typed out their reply quickly.

Paintbrush: i'm on a train Marsh, i can't

the reply came back in a matter of seconds.

Marshmallow: just do it

Paintbrush sighed and looked over their shoulder, only to see Marshmallow sitting there looking very unimpressed. "Ohh. Hi, Marsh!" they said.

"Oh my goodness," Marshmallow muttered, shimmying out of her own seat and taking the one facing Paintbrush, conveniently empty. Her luggage took up the seats next to her as she sat down. "I've been trying to call you for the past minute; you've been away with the fairies, Paintbrush."

"Jeez, sorry," Paintbrush said, looking back out the window. The rainwater pelted against the glass, making any viewing experience murky. Paintbrush hates winter. Not only does rain suck, it gets in their hair.

"Something on your mind?" Marsh pried; Paintbrush just shrugged. They couldn't really give an answer, to that. Their mind was running so fast they couldn't catch up with it. "Hm. Your hair's really long now."

Paintbrush snapped out of their temporary haze, looking at Marshmallow inquisitively. "What do you mean?" they said, hand reaching toward where their hair ended. It had gotten longer; when they had first gotten to college, it went just below their mouth. Now it was way below their chin.

"You gonna cut it again?" Marshmallow asked.

Paintbrush pondered the question for a bit. "Maybe," they decided on for an answer. "I dunno, though. I kinda like it like this."

Marshmallow hummed in affirmation. "I think it suits you," she said with a smile. "Your short hair always made you look like some kind of criminal."

"What!?" Paintbrush said, looking at Marsh in bewilderment.

"It did!" Marshmallow said, giggling. "Especially whenever you put in that silver-looking headband thingy! You looked like some kind of vagabond," she continued.

"I did not," Paintbrush said, crossing their arms. "I liked my short hair."

"Trust me, it looked great. But you also looked like you had fifty different tattoos hidden away."

"C'mon, Marsh. If anyone was rebellious it was you; remember when you tried to ghost-hunt back in sophomore year?"

"And it worked," Marshmallow said pridefully. Paintbrush laughed, remembering the, admittedly quite scary, night.

Marshmallow had somehow found a way to summon a ghost, although it was thankfully a harmless one, named Dough. All the ghoul really wanted was a hare, then sighed in disappointment and left when he discovered that nobody had one.