New Feeling

niso (chapter two)

Authors Note: Thank you to everyone who read and voted on this! Both on Wattpad and other sites, it really means a lot. Please leave a comment to let me know what you think!

Content warnings: The C slur and the R slur are used in this chapter, with a character referring to themselves as such. There is also a brief moment of bullying, 90s kids movie tier bullying but bullying nonetheless.

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The Cranstons had been over a lot. At first, it was during the weekend but soon their visits had spilled into the rest of the week. At least, the parents were there. Billy didn't come over most of the time, Lady didn't necessarily care. She knew he had a goal in mind. His parents dragging him over to her house and forcing him to socialize when he clearly wasn't up for it kept him from completing that goal. Still. If she had to be honest, it wasn't all that bad talking to him. His frustrating way of speaking paired with his intimidating intelligence made shit awkward, yeah. But, it was easier to talk to someone your own age rather than super smiley suburban middle-aged couples, she guessed.

Lee, or Mr. Cranston as her dad insisted she'd call him unless given the strict okay by Mr. Cranston himself ("You know how white folks are."), had taken it upon himself to help with the heavy lifting after the pros left. It wasn't necessary. At all. It had made things go faster and it was funny to see a scrawny, formally dressed man like that struggle to move the shitty couch downstairs, but it was unnecessary. Darla, or Dr. Cranston, that was very important, had helped Lady with unpacking the kitchen and her room. The more ladylike jobs. Unpacking her room was frustrating, to say the least. The two of them had different ways of organizing and were anal about them in their own ways. At least Darla knew how to make beds look nice. Real nice.

"Oh, my son likes this band."

Lady blinked before shuffling over to the shelf to see what band Darla was pointing at. She hoped it was Talking Heads. David Byrne and Tina Weymouth were the shit. To her chagrin, it was not. It was Duran Duran. The only reason why Lady owned 'Notorious' was that it was a gift from some cousin at a family Christmas party's Secret Santa from a few years back. It was fine enough, she guessed.

"Oh." Unsure of what to say beyond that, she toyed with the end of her braid.

"And this one too. But, I must admit, I'm not a fan of it. I prefer the other one."

Lady squinted; It was Oingo Boingo. She liked them more than Duran Duran, at least. "How come?"

"Too chaotic."

'What the fuck. How white is that shit?'

"He also has a habit of playing a certain song of theirs over and over again while he works."

Lady smiled. "...Weird Science?" She had said that too hopeful for her taste, but it'd be pretty fucking funny if she was right.

"No." Lady frowned, realizing her joke had gone unappreciated. "I don't recall the title... I'm sure I'd know what it was if I heard it. Anyways, your room is finished now, right?"

"O-oh... Yeah. Thank you, Dr. Cranston."

The room was pretty much finished. The bed had looked like a bed rather than the quilt avalanche that would've made up her bed. It looked like a picture in a Sears catalogue; sheets, blankets and bedspread all tucked in nice and tight (so tight that Darla literally bounced a coin off of it), her pillows and Grumpy Bear arranged all nicely. Her dressers were now in the room, all filled with clothes except for the designated 'junk drawer'. As little of it she had, her makeup had been arranged in neat rows on the vanity, or whatever that piece of furniture was called. The shelves were put up, filled and organized to Lady's preference after a one-sided shouting match if she had to be honest.