It's Called Murder- wednesday

2.

Mourn eyed the make-shift camping bed he had been granted, from the pink pillows to the yellow checked duvet, and plushies sprawled all over it. It looked like a rainbow had thrown it all up, the pastels mercilessly crashing with his pitch-black attire. Its warmth and cuteness made his eyes water until tears slipped his cheek again.

"How do you like it?" the chirpy voice of his new dorm mate Enid asked, and he could feel his sister's gaze on him.
"I love it. I have no idea why... but I love it," he mumbled at the blonde girl who excitedly clapped her hands. His sister, Wednesday, snarled at his antics but kept quiet.
"How wonderful." Principal Weeps smiled down at him in approval. For a woman as tall as a tree, she wasn't growing on him.

"So, you're not allergic to color?" Enid eyed her new roommate expectingly, displaying an anxious craving for affirmation. Everything from the blond bob with the colored highlights to the glimmer in her bright blue eyes told him she wouldn't be as hard to get used to as his sister framed her to.
" He's just as allergic," Wednesday answered for him, still glancing around the pastel room in disgust.
"Maybe I just enjoy suffering more," Mourn added truthfully with the hint of a sad smile lifting the corners of his mouth. Enid chuckled lightly.
"Luckily, we've specifically ordered you matching uniforms." Weems spoke up, and Mourn lifted his gaze to see his mother proudly smiling at him.
He could tell she was thankful he was trying. However, she knew her son well enough to anticipate how that attitude could change any minute.

"Enid, please take the twins to the register's office to pick up their uniforms and a schedule copy. And give them a tour along the way," Weems ordered, and the girl happily skipped through the door, followed by a glaring Wednesday and Mourn, who grabbed his sister's arm to hold onto.

Nevermore was ridiculous in its entire existence. It was big, campy as if pulled straight out of a gothic novel, with long hallways and kooky decorations from the last century. It was macabre how much it fitted their aesthetic, and both twins snarled at that. They weren't supposed to fit it. It was nothing less than a mockery.
"Nevermore was founded in 1791 to educate people like us. Outcasts, freaks, monsters, fill in your favorite marginalized group here," Enid chipped with a motivation that made Mourn's head throb.
"Please, leave out the sales pitch," he sighed as he looked around in despair. "Save your best efforts for another desperate soul."
"Why ?"Enid asked, her hair bouncing as he tilted her head.
" We'll not going to stay for long. It was our parents' idea. They've been looking for any excuse to send us here, make us suffer, and eventually turn into a version of themselves," Wednesday elaborated coldly. Enid's smile froze.

"Well, in that case, perhaps you can clear something up. Rumors have been swirling around that you killed a kid at your old school and your parents pulled strings to get you off. They call you the killer twins." Mourn snarled. What a stupid nickname. They could at least think of something more original.
"Rumors grow best in the dark," he huffed, his gaze turning to his sister.
Wednesday looked around, eyes settling on a big, hefty door as she stated: "Actually, it was two kids, but who is counting."

Enid's gaze shot to Mourn, who just shrugged and then followed his sister, marching on and through the door.
Behind it laid the heart of the school, the schoolyard formed like a Pentagon and framed by tall, dark walls. Mourn thought it would be surprisingly fashionable if it weren't for the countless students splattered around the different picnic tables and stone decorations. He really didn't like people.

"Welcome to the quad!"Enid announced, back to her cheery attitude.
The twins looked around in mutual disgust, Wednesday pointing out, "It's a Pentagon."
"Sadly, a horrifying one," Mourn added, a tear running down his cheek.

Enid followed their gazes around, whipping on her feet, "The snarky goth kid attitude might have worked at Normy school, but here things are different. We're all outcasts. Let me give you a wiki on Nevermore's social scene."
"Please don't, "Mourn replied, but Enid was already walking on, dragging Wednesday behind.
"Neither of us is interested in participating in tribal adolescent clichés," the girl told her, and Mourn nodded in agreement.
If he wanted a social life, he would instead attend a funeral.