" The apotheosis is upon us... I guess. "

((hellooo it's @theguywhodoesntlikemusicals with a young paul ask i promise i didn't forget

Emma was beyond exhausted.

First, she had to wake up earlier than usual to go to school. It wasn't that bad, but she could've really used the extra sleep. Unfortunately, her theatre program decided all the students playing in Brigadoon had to have one last (2 hour long) rehearsal. Then, she had to perform. By the time the show finished, it was about 9 in the evening. Usually, she'd be asleep by then. God, she was definitely gonna have to take a long nap once she got home.

Emma put on her coat and walked outside. It was a cold and chilly night, so she was glad she brought some semblance of warmth.

In the corner of her eye, she spotted someone. A boy, around her age. She assumed he was a student, but taking a closer look, Emma didn't recognise him. What was this guy doing hanging around the school this late?

Paul found himself smiling as he hit the nail on the head, and she laughed in response. Her laugh was cute. Though as soon as he realised he was thinking such a thing, his face flushed slightly and he hesitantly glanced off for a moment. Though, his gaze was soon drawn back to her. "I could believe it. That girl who played Meg forgot her lines, right? I'm pretty sure she's meant to take Jeff 'to the shack', not 'to shag'..." Paul snickered and covered his mouth as he remembered the fuck up. Now that it wasn't in the horrible awkward stifling environment of the school hall, he felt like he was able to laugh at it.

He stared back at her, wide eyed and nervous for a moment about her reaction to his admission. "No! Well... Okay, yeah, maybe it was. You weren't. But... yeah. I really just think that sitting where there's a bunch of people, and so much loud noise, and pretending to believe that everything on stage is real when it's not... is really not my thing." He sighed, rubbing one of his arms. "... You like to draw?" He smiled softly. "I get it. I'd much rather have been able to sit somewhere with a book."

"I totally get it. I'd rather watch a silent movie from way back then," she chuckled. "It's better than sitting through cringey love songs, am I right?"

A pause. Emma looked at the sky as well, but it only took her a few seconds before he went right back to gazing at Paul.

God, he looked like a loser. But... Emma didn't mean it in a rude way. Maybe she liked losers-? Fuck, this was really confusing her.

Paul had been nothing but polite ever since she walked up to him. Sure, he was sarcastic and brutally honest at some points, but that only made her... Was it attraction? Well, either way, it made it grow. She felt like she could listen to Paul's laugh over and over and she wouldn't get bored of it.

So at his request, she was easily flustered. Calm down, Emma. You've sold weed in school with no fear! Walking home with Paul is super easy, right?

"Oh! U-uh..." Emma rubbed the back of her neck, her other hand fidgeting with the end of her shirt. "Sure. I'd... I'd love that, Paul. My parents always expect me to walk anyway!"

He had been flying by the seat of his pants when he asked, letting the words tumble out with the knowledge that, once the first sound came out, if he stopped himself he wouldn't finish. He convinced himself that he was asking because it was late and he didn't want her walking home in the dark on her own, but deep down, he knew the real answer why he was asking. He was shocked that she actually said yes. "Cool," he gasped quietly, not sure what else to say to both convey his emotions, while managing the situation and not let it sound like he was ecstatic. "Me too. I mean - my mom is usually too busy working."

"Yeah, uh..." Emma took her sketchbook out from her bookbag. The front was covered in stickers from various things she was interested in, like an old-style vintage looking stamp. She quickly flipped through the pages, eventually landing on one. It was a drawing of a beautiful landscape; a field of flowers. "I like to sketch out places I visit... Well, not the field, though," she chuckled, tucking a loose hair behind her ear.

Emma paused. This was the first time she'd shown her art to someone other than herself and her parents. Did she already get that comfortable?

She'd gotten compliments before, so why did she feel different around Paul? Why was she blushing and all that? Pull yourself together, Emma.

At her suggestion that Paul's hobbies were cool, his immediate instinct was to try and be humble. To undermine her compliment as everyone at his awful school had been taught to do. That she didn't understand the entire extent of his lameness... But to his surprise, his response was a genuine, "Thanks." Paul flushed slightly, glancing downward so she would stand a chance at missing his rouged cheeks. No one ever seemed to try to like what he was interested in. Everyone seemed to always think him docile and placid enough to drag into only what they liked. "Sycamore only has one computer and I'm pretty sure I annoy the teachers by trying to get on it every recess. I've been trying to code a programme to play boardgames against it, but there are still a few bugs right now."

At his words, Emma chuckled. "One computer? In the whole school? Man, that's rough," she shook her head. The idea of it was absurd to her, but humorous. "But hey, if you can make that one computer actually fun to use, then you're only something," she added, nudging Paul's shoulder. "To me, you're the greatest student from Sycamore I've met."

Shit, why'd she say that?

((hellooo it's @theguywhodoesntlikemusicals with a young paul ask i promise i didn't forget

Emma was beyond exhausted.

First, she had to wake up earlier than usual to go to school. It wasn't that bad, but she could've really used the extra sleep. Unfortunately, her theatre program decided all the students playing in Brigadoon had to have one last (2 hour long) rehearsal. Then, she had to perform. By the time the show finished, it was about 9 in the evening. Usually, she'd be asleep by then. God, she was definitely gonna have to take a long nap once she got home.

Emma put on her coat and walked outside. It was a cold and chilly night, so she was glad she brought some semblance of warmth.

In the corner of her eye, she spotted someone. A boy, around her age. She assumed he was a student, but taking a closer look, Emma didn't recognise him. What was this guy doing hanging around the school this late?

Paul found himself smiling as he hit the nail on the head, and she laughed in response. Her laugh was cute. Though as soon as he realised he was thinking such a thing, his face flushed slightly and he hesitantly glanced off for a moment. Though, his gaze was soon drawn back to her. "I could believe it. That girl who played Meg forgot her lines, right? I'm pretty sure she's meant to take Jeff 'to the shack', not 'to shag'..." Paul snickered and covered his mouth as he remembered the fuck up. Now that it wasn't in the horrible awkward stifling environment of the school hall, he felt like he was able to laugh at it.

He stared back at her, wide eyed and nervous for a moment about her reaction to his admission. "No! Well... Okay, yeah, maybe it was. You weren't. But... yeah. I really just think that sitting where there's a bunch of people, and so much loud noise, and pretending to believe that everything on stage is real when it's not... is really not my thing." He sighed, rubbing one of his arms. "... You like to draw?" He smiled softly. "I get it. I'd much rather have been able to sit somewhere with a book."

"I totally get it. I'd rather watch a silent movie from way back then," she chuckled. "It's better than sitting through cringey love songs, am I right?"

A pause. Emma looked at the sky as well, but it only took her a few seconds before he went right back to gazing at Paul.

God, he looked like a loser. But... Emma didn't mean it in a rude way. Maybe she liked losers-? Fuck, this was really confusing her.

Paul had been nothing but polite ever since she walked up to him. Sure, he was sarcastic and brutally honest at some points, but that only made her... Was it attraction? Well, either way, it made it grow. She felt like she could listen to Paul's laugh over and over and she wouldn't get bored of it.

So at his request, she was easily flustered. Calm down, Emma. You've sold weed in school with no fear! Walking home with Paul is super easy, right?

"Oh! U-uh..." Emma rubbed the back of her neck, her other hand fidgeting with the end of her shirt. "Sure. I'd... I'd love that, Paul. My parents always expect me to walk anyway!"

He had been flying by the seat of his pants when he asked, letting the words tumble out with the knowledge that, once the first sound came out, if he stopped himself he wouldn't finish. He convinced himself that he was asking because it was late and he didn't want her walking home in the dark on her own, but deep down, he knew the real answer why he was asking. He was shocked that she actually said yes. "Cool," he gasped quietly, not sure what else to say to both convey his emotions, while managing the situation and not let it sound like he was ecstatic. "Me too. I mean - my mom is usually too busy working."

"Yeah, uh..." Emma took her sketchbook out from her bookbag. The front was covered in stickers from various things she was interested in, like an old-style vintage looking stamp. She quickly flipped through the pages, eventually landing on one. It was a drawing of a beautiful landscape; a field of flowers. "I like to sketch out places I visit... Well, not the field, though," she chuckled, tucking a loose hair behind her ear.

Emma paused. This was the first time she'd shown her art to someone other than herself and her parents. Did she already get that comfortable?

She'd gotten compliments before, so why did she feel different around Paul? Why was she blushing and all that? Pull yourself together, Emma.

((hellooo it's @theguywhodoesntlikemusicals with a young paul ask i promise i didn't forget

Emma was beyond exhausted.

First, she had to wake up earlier than usual to go to school. It wasn't that bad, but she could've really used the extra sleep. Unfortunately, her theatre program decided all the students playing in Brigadoon had to have one last (2 hour long) rehearsal. Then, she had to perform. By the time the show finished, it was about 9 in the evening. Usually, she'd be asleep by then. God, she was definitely gonna have to take a long nap once she got home.

Emma put on her coat and walked outside. It was a cold and chilly night, so she was glad she brought some semblance of warmth.

In the corner of her eye, she spotted someone. A boy, around her age. She assumed he was a student, but taking a closer look, Emma didn't recognise him. What was this guy doing hanging around the school this late?

Paul found himself smiling as he hit the nail on the head, and she laughed in response. Her laugh was cute. Though as soon as he realised he was thinking such a thing, his face flushed slightly and he hesitantly glanced off for a moment. Though, his gaze was soon drawn back to her. "I could believe it. That girl who played Meg forgot her lines, right? I'm pretty sure she's meant to take Jeff 'to the shack', not 'to shag'..." Paul snickered and covered his mouth as he remembered the fuck up. Now that it wasn't in the horrible awkward stifling environment of the school hall, he felt like he was able to laugh at it.

He stared back at her, wide eyed and nervous for a moment about her reaction to his admission. "No! Well... Okay, yeah, maybe it was. You weren't. But... yeah. I really just think that sitting where there's a bunch of people, and so much loud noise, and pretending to believe that everything on stage is real when it's not... is really not my thing." He sighed, rubbing one of his arms. "... You like to draw?" He smiled softly. "I get it. I'd much rather have been able to sit somewhere with a book."

"I totally get it. I'd rather watch a silent movie from way back then," she chuckled. "It's better than sitting through cringey love songs, am I right?"

A pause. Emma looked at the sky as well, but it only took her a few seconds before he went right back to gazing at Paul.

God, he looked like a loser. But... Emma didn't mean it in a rude way. Maybe she liked losers-? Fuck, this was really confusing her.

Paul had been nothing but polite ever since she walked up to him. Sure, he was sarcastic and brutally honest at some points, but that only made her... Was it attraction? Well, either way, it made it grow. She felt like she could listen to Paul's laugh over and over and she wouldn't get bored of it.

So at his request, she was easily flustered. Calm down, Emma. You've sold weed in school with no fear! Walking home with Paul is super easy, right?

"Oh! U-uh..." Emma rubbed the back of her neck, her other hand fidgeting with the end of her shirt. "Sure. I'd... I'd love that, Paul. My parents always expect me to walk anyway!"

He had been flying by the seat of his pants when he asked, letting the words tumble out with the knowledge that, once the first sound came out, if he stopped himself he wouldn't finish. He convinced himself that he was asking because it was late and he didn't want her walking home in the dark on her own, but deep down, he knew the real answer why he was asking. He was shocked that she actually said yes. "Cool," he gasped quietly, not sure what else to say to both convey his emotions, while managing the situation and not let it sound like he was ecstatic. "Me too. I mean - my mom is usually too busy working."

"Yeah, uh..." Emma took her sketchbook out from her bookbag. The front was covered in stickers from various things she was interested in, like an old-style vintage looking stamp. She quickly flipped through the pages, eventually landing on one. It was a drawing of a beautiful landscape; a field of flowers. "I like to sketch out places I visit... Well, not the field, though," she chuckled, tucking a loose hair behind her ear.

Emma paused. This was the first time she'd shown her art to someone other than herself and her parents. Did she already get that comfortable?

((hellooo it's @theguywhodoesntlikemusicals with a young paul ask i promise i didn't forget

Emma was beyond exhausted.

First, she had to wake up earlier than usual to go to school. It wasn't that bad, but she could've really used the extra sleep. Unfortunately, her theatre program decided all the students playing in Brigadoon had to have one last (2 hour long) rehearsal. Then, she had to perform. By the time the show finished, it was about 9 in the evening. Usually, she'd be asleep by then. God, she was definitely gonna have to take a long nap once she got home.

Emma put on her coat and walked outside. It was a cold and chilly night, so she was glad she brought some semblance of warmth.

In the corner of her eye, she spotted someone. A boy, around her age. She assumed he was a student, but taking a closer look, Emma didn't recognise him. What was this guy doing hanging around the school this late?

Paul found himself smiling as he hit the nail on the head, and she laughed in response. Her laugh was cute. Though as soon as he realised he was thinking such a thing, his face flushed slightly and he hesitantly glanced off for a moment. Though, his gaze was soon drawn back to her. "I could believe it. That girl who played Meg forgot her lines, right? I'm pretty sure she's meant to take Jeff 'to the shack', not 'to shag'..." Paul snickered and covered his mouth as he remembered the fuck up. Now that it wasn't in the horrible awkward stifling environment of the school hall, he felt like he was able to laugh at it.

He stared back at her, wide eyed and nervous for a moment about her reaction to his admission. "No! Well... Okay, yeah, maybe it was. You weren't. But... yeah. I really just think that sitting where there's a bunch of people, and so much loud noise, and pretending to believe that everything on stage is real when it's not... is really not my thing." He sighed, rubbing one of his arms. "... You like to draw?" He smiled softly. "I get it. I'd much rather have been able to sit somewhere with a book."

"I totally get it. I'd rather watch a silent movie from way back then," she chuckled. "It's better than sitting through cringey love songs, am I right?"

A pause. Emma looked at the sky as well, but it only took her a few seconds before he went right back to gazing at Paul.

God, he looked like a loser. But... Emma didn't mean it in a rude way. Maybe she liked losers-? Fuck, this was really confusing her.

Paul had been nothing but polite ever since she walked up to him. Sure, he was sarcastic and brutally honest at some points, but that only made her... Was it attraction? Well, either way, it made it grow. She felt like she could listen to Paul's laugh over and over and she wouldn't get bored of it.

So at his request, she was easily flustered. Calm down, Emma. You've sold weed in school with no fear! Walking home with Paul is super easy, right?

"Oh! U-uh..." Emma rubbed the back of her neck, her other hand fidgeting with the end of her shirt. "Sure. I'd... I'd love that, Paul. My parents always expect me to walk anyway!"

((hellooo it's @theguywhodoesntlikemusicals with a young paul ask i promise i didn't forget

Emma was beyond exhausted.

First, she had to wake up earlier than usual to go to school. It wasn't that bad, but she could've really used the extra sleep. Unfortunately, her theatre program decided all the students playing in Brigadoon had to have one last (2 hour long) rehearsal. Then, she had to perform. By the time the show finished, it was about 9 in the evening. Usually, she'd be asleep by then. God, she was definitely gonna have to take a long nap once she got home.

Emma put on her coat and walked outside. It was a cold and chilly night, so she was glad she brought some semblance of warmth.

In the corner of her eye, she spotted someone. A boy, around her age. She assumed he was a student, but taking a closer look, Emma didn't recognise him. What was this guy doing hanging around the school this late?

"Oh--" he gasped, immediately recognising Bonnie Jean. Despite how much he had hated the evening, how overwhelmed and awful he'd felt the entire time, he did remember her. She was good- No, great. Incredible... He felt envy and wonder welling up inside him in equal measures.

"Wow, the life of an actor, huh?" he replied with a small chuckle, before flushing ever so slightly and shaking his head. "Just kidding. That sounds like it sucks. I feel like if you're going to be representing the school they should at least give you the day off to figure it out." Maybe the teachers at Hatchetfield high just cared a lot. He couldn't say the same for Sycamore.

Paul. That name fit the boy in front of Emma. As she continued to stare, she began to feel more drawn to him. Sure, he looked like your run of the mill scrawny and awkward schoolboy, but...maybe that's what Emma started to like about Paul. Shit, why was she being so sappy today?

"Surprised you read the pamphlet," She chuckled, trying to shake off the sudden blossoming feeling in her chest. "The other students just threw 'em away. But... Yeah. I'm Emma. Nice to meet you, Paul." She put out her hand to shake. Ok, Emma, calm down. You're just talking with someone, it isn't a catastrophe.

Emma tilted her head. "Oh?" Her eyes widened. She wasn't offended, she was amused. If people didn't like the performance, then why'd they have to lie about it being good? "Wow, our production must've been shitty, huh?" She laughed, picking at the hair on her face. "I don't blame you. I'd much prefer to just be somewhere else with my sketchbook."

((hellooo it's @theguywhodoesntlikemusicals with a young paul ask i promise i didn't forget

Emma was beyond exhausted.

First, she had to wake up earlier than usual to go to school. It wasn't that bad, but she could've really used the extra sleep. Unfortunately, her theatre program decided all the students playing in Brigadoon had to have one last (2 hour long) rehearsal. Then, she had to perform. By the time the show finished, it was about 9 in the evening. Usually, she'd be asleep by then. God, she was definitely gonna have to take a long nap once she got home.

Emma put on her coat and walked outside. It was a cold and chilly night, so she was glad she brought some semblance of warmth.

In the corner of her eye, she spotted someone. A boy, around her age. She assumed he was a student, but taking a closer look, Emma didn't recognise him. What was this guy doing hanging around the school this late?

"Oh--" he gasped, immediately recognising Bonnie Jean. Despite how much he had hated the evening, how overwhelmed and awful he'd felt the entire time, he did remember her. She was good- No, great. Incredible... He felt envy and wonder welling up inside him in equal measures.

"Wow, the life of an actor, huh?" he replied with a small chuckle, before flushing ever so slightly and shaking his head. "Just kidding. That sounds like it sucks. I feel like if you're going to be representing the school they should at least give you the day off to figure it out." Maybe the teachers at Hatchetfield high just cared a lot. He couldn't say the same for Sycamore.

Paul. That name fit the boy in front of Emma. As she continued to stare, she began to feel more drawn to him. Sure, he looked like your run of the mill scrawny and awkward schoolboy, but...maybe that's what Emma started to like about Paul. Shit, why was she being so sappy today?

"Surprised you read the pamphlet," She chuckled, trying to shake off the sudden blossoming feeling in her chest. "The other students just threw 'em away. But... Yeah. I'm Emma. Nice to meet you, Paul." She put out her hand to shake. Ok, Emma, calm down. You're just talking with someone, it isn't a catastrophe.

((hellooo it's @theguywhodoesntlikemusicals with a young paul ask i promise i didn't forget

Emma was beyond exhausted.

First, she had to wake up earlier than usual to go to school. It wasn't that bad, but she could've really used the extra sleep. Unfortunately, her theatre program decided all the students playing in Brigadoon had to have one last (2 hour long) rehearsal. Then, she had to perform. By the time the show finished, it was about 9 in the evening. Usually, she'd be asleep by then. God, she was definitely gonna have to take a long nap once she got home.

Emma put on her coat and walked outside. It was a cold and chilly night, so she was glad she brought some semblance of warmth.

In the corner of her eye, she spotted someone. A boy, around her age. She assumed he was a student, but taking a closer look, Emma didn't recognise him. What was this guy doing hanging around the school this late?

"Oh--" he gasped, immediately recognising Bonnie Jean. Despite how much he had hated the evening, how overwhelmed and awful he'd felt the entire time, he did remember her. She was good- No, great. Incredible... He felt envy and wonder welling up inside him in equal measures.

((hellooo it's @theguywhodoesntlikemusicals with a young paul ask i promise i didn't forget

Emma was beyond exhausted.

First, she had to wake up earlier than usual to go to school. It wasn't that bad, but she could've really used the extra sleep. Unfortunately, her theatre program decided all the students playing in Brigadoon had to have one last (2 hour long) rehearsal. Then, she had to perform. By the time the show finished, it was about 9 in the evening. Usually, she'd be asleep by then. God, she was definitely gonna have to take a long nap once she got home.

Emma put on her coat and walked outside. It was a cold and chilly night, so she was glad she brought some semblance of warmth.

In the corner of her eye, she spotted someone. A boy, around her age. She assumed he was a student, but taking a closer look, Emma didn't recognise him. What was this guy doing hanging around the school this late?

"Oh--" he gasped, immediately recognising Bonnie Jean. Despite how much he had hated the evening, how overwhelmed and awful he'd felt the entire time, he did remember her. She was good- No, great. Incredible... He felt envy and wonder welling up inside him in equal measures.

Richie didn't expect to wake up to harmonies and organised melodies at all. At first, he went to Paul, but he was singing too.

So in a panic, he ran into a somehow still functioning coffee shop, with one tired looking barista behind the counter. She had her brown hair messily tied into a bun, and she wore a black ribbon below her collar and a green apron.

She sighed as she looked at him. "For the last time, Richie," she began. "I don't want to hear you sing your vocaloid songs at this time of day."

- @tipforapoisonedcoffee

[Richie rushed into the shop, leaning on the counter while releasing wheezing breaths. His eyes were wide, hair left un-styled. He seems to flinch when Emma opens her mouth, however a visible expression of relief settles on his face as soon as she speaks.]

“God no! Singing is the last thing I wanna do right now! Emma. Something is incredibly wrong.”

[Is all he manages, panicked. Somehow the teen forgot his inhaler. Glancing behind him, Emma sees a group of people dancing in the parking lot… interesting.]

“T-there’s some kind of infection! It’s got Paul.”

[The teen pleads, his anxiety building with each moment. His arms are tucked as close as they can be to his body, and every muscle was tense.]

“What can I do that’ll convince you that I’m human?!”

“I guess I can do that.”

“Infection got him. Last I saw he was dancing to work. As in instead of walking, he was dancing to move.”

“AND YOU’RE OKAY WITH THAT?!”

[He shouts. Emma sees a tear forming in the corner of his eye.]

“Emma I- I think he’s dead… Whatever thing is controlling him, it’s just puppeting his corpse.”

“H-He’s fucking dead! Paul -hic- is dead! Does that not b-bother you?! You’re hugging his corpse Emma!”

Just as Emma was about to walk back to Richie's table, a certain someone burst through the back door.

"♪ EMMAAAAA! ♪"

“P-Paul! How… are you..?”

“Please… please no.”

“You’ll never replace him. Whatever you are.”

“D-don’t touch me! I- you can’t fool me with this.”

A scar torn over half of Paul's body. Richie didn't where he got it from, but it only made his uncle look more terrifying. But still... He looked welcoming. Friendly. Like the Paul he knew. Maybe Emma was right. He could pretend.

"♪I love you, Richie,♪" Paul sang. "♪I always will.♪"

Slowly, Paul leaned down and enveloped Richie in another embrace. He softly sang sweet words into his ear... How much he loved him, how much he cared, even reprising old memories the two had together. It really felt like Paul in that moment. Richie knew his uncle wasn't that open about his feelings, so hearing this... It really hit him right in his heart.

Richie didn't expect to wake up to harmonies and organised melodies at all. At first, he went to Paul, but he was singing too.

So in a panic, he ran into a somehow still functioning coffee shop, with one tired looking barista behind the counter. She had her brown hair messily tied into a bun, and she wore a black ribbon below her collar and a green apron.

She sighed as she looked at him. "For the last time, Richie," she began. "I don't want to hear you sing your vocaloid songs at this time of day."

- @tipforapoisonedcoffee

[Richie rushed into the shop, leaning on the counter while releasing wheezing breaths. His eyes were wide, hair left un-styled. He seems to flinch when Emma opens her mouth, however a visible expression of relief settles on his face as soon as she speaks.]

“God no! Singing is the last thing I wanna do right now! Emma. Something is incredibly wrong.”

[Is all he manages, panicked. Somehow the teen forgot his inhaler. Glancing behind him, Emma sees a group of people dancing in the parking lot… interesting.]

“T-there’s some kind of infection! It’s got Paul.”

[The teen pleads, his anxiety building with each moment. His arms are tucked as close as they can be to his body, and every muscle was tense.]

“What can I do that’ll convince you that I’m human?!”

“I guess I can do that.”

“Infection got him. Last I saw he was dancing to work. As in instead of walking, he was dancing to move.”

“AND YOU’RE OKAY WITH THAT?!”

[He shouts. Emma sees a tear forming in the corner of his eye.]

“Emma I- I think he’s dead… Whatever thing is controlling him, it’s just puppeting his corpse.”

“H-He’s fucking dead! Paul -hic- is dead! Does that not b-bother you?! You’re hugging his corpse Emma!”

Just as Emma was about to walk back to Richie's table, a certain someone burst through the back door.

"♪ EMMAAAAA! ♪"

“P-Paul! How… are you..?”

“Please… please no.”

“You’ll never replace him. Whatever you are.”

Richie didn't expect to wake up to harmonies and organised melodies at all. At first, he went to Paul, but he was singing too.

So in a panic, he ran into a somehow still functioning coffee shop, with one tired looking barista behind the counter. She had her brown hair messily tied into a bun, and she wore a black ribbon below her collar and a green apron.

She sighed as she looked at him. "For the last time, Richie," she began. "I don't want to hear you sing your vocaloid songs at this time of day."

- @tipforapoisonedcoffee

[Richie rushed into the shop, leaning on the counter while releasing wheezing breaths. His eyes were wide, hair left un-styled. He seems to flinch when Emma opens her mouth, however a visible expression of relief settles on his face as soon as she speaks.]

“God no! Singing is the last thing I wanna do right now! Emma. Something is incredibly wrong.”

[Is all he manages, panicked. Somehow the teen forgot his inhaler. Glancing behind him, Emma sees a group of people dancing in the parking lot… interesting.]

“T-there’s some kind of infection! It’s got Paul.”

[The teen pleads, his anxiety building with each moment. His arms are tucked as close as they can be to his body, and every muscle was tense.]

“What can I do that’ll convince you that I’m human?!”

“I guess I can do that.”

“Infection got him. Last I saw he was dancing to work. As in instead of walking, he was dancing to move.”

“AND YOU’RE OKAY WITH THAT?!”

[He shouts. Emma sees a tear forming in the corner of his eye.]

“Emma I- I think he’s dead… Whatever thing is controlling him, it’s just puppeting his corpse.”

“H-He’s fucking dead! Paul -hic- is dead! Does that not b-bother you?! You’re hugging his corpse Emma!”

Just as Emma was about to walk back to Richie's table, a certain someone burst through the back door.

"♪ EMMAAAAA! ♪"

“P-Paul! How… are you..?”

“Please… please no.”

Richie didn't expect to wake up to harmonies and organised melodies at all. At first, he went to Paul, but he was singing too.

So in a panic, he ran into a somehow still functioning coffee shop, with one tired looking barista behind the counter. She had her brown hair messily tied into a bun, and she wore a black ribbon below her collar and a green apron.

She sighed as she looked at him. "For the last time, Richie," she began. "I don't want to hear you sing your vocaloid songs at this time of day."

- @tipforapoisonedcoffee

[Richie rushed into the shop, leaning on the counter while releasing wheezing breaths. His eyes were wide, hair left un-styled. He seems to flinch when Emma opens her mouth, however a visible expression of relief settles on his face as soon as she speaks.]

“God no! Singing is the last thing I wanna do right now! Emma. Something is incredibly wrong.”

[Is all he manages, panicked. Somehow the teen forgot his inhaler. Glancing behind him, Emma sees a group of people dancing in the parking lot… interesting.]

“T-there’s some kind of infection! It’s got Paul.”

[The teen pleads, his anxiety building with each moment. His arms are tucked as close as they can be to his body, and every muscle was tense.]

“What can I do that’ll convince you that I’m human?!”

“I guess I can do that.”

“Infection got him. Last I saw he was dancing to work. As in instead of walking, he was dancing to move.”

“AND YOU’RE OKAY WITH THAT?!”

[He shouts. Emma sees a tear forming in the corner of his eye.]

“Emma I- I think he’s dead… Whatever thing is controlling him, it’s just puppeting his corpse.”

“H-He’s fucking dead! Paul -hic- is dead! Does that not b-bother you?! You’re hugging his corpse Emma!”

Just as Emma was about to walk back to Richie's table, a certain someone burst through the back door.

"♪ EMMAAAAA! ♪"

“P-Paul! How… are you..?”

Richie didn't expect to wake up to harmonies and organised melodies at all. At first, he went to Paul, but he was singing too.

So in a panic, he ran into a somehow still functioning coffee shop, with one tired looking barista behind the counter. She had her brown hair messily tied into a bun, and she wore a black ribbon below her collar and a green apron.

She sighed as she looked at him. "For the last time, Richie," she began. "I don't want to hear you sing your vocaloid songs at this time of day."

- @tipforapoisonedcoffee

[Richie rushed into the shop, leaning on the counter while releasing wheezing breaths. His eyes were wide, hair left un-styled. He seems to flinch when Emma opens her mouth, however a visible expression of relief settles on his face as soon as she speaks.]

“God no! Singing is the last thing I wanna do right now! Emma. Something is incredibly wrong.”

[Is all he manages, panicked. Somehow the teen forgot his inhaler. Glancing behind him, Emma sees a group of people dancing in the parking lot… interesting.]

“T-there’s some kind of infection! It’s got Paul.”

[The teen pleads, his anxiety building with each moment. His arms are tucked as close as they can be to his body, and every muscle was tense.]

“What can I do that’ll convince you that I’m human?!”

“I guess I can do that.”

“Infection got him. Last I saw he was dancing to work. As in instead of walking, he was dancing to move.”

“AND YOU’RE OKAY WITH THAT?!”

[He shouts. Emma sees a tear forming in the corner of his eye.]

“Emma I- I think he’s dead… Whatever thing is controlling him, it’s just puppeting his corpse.”

“H-He’s fucking dead! Paul -hic- is dead! Does that not b-bother you?! You’re hugging his corpse Emma!”

Just as Emma was about to walk back to Richie's table, a certain someone burst through the back door.

"♪ EMMAAAAA! ♪"

Richie didn't expect to wake up to harmonies and organised melodies at all. At first, he went to Paul, but he was singing too.

So in a panic, he ran into a somehow still functioning coffee shop, with one tired looking barista behind the counter. She had her brown hair messily tied into a bun, and she wore a black ribbon below her collar and a green apron.

She sighed as she looked at him. "For the last time, Richie," she began. "I don't want to hear you sing your vocaloid songs at this time of day."

- @tipforapoisonedcoffee

[Richie rushed into the shop, leaning on the counter while releasing wheezing breaths. His eyes were wide, hair left un-styled. He seems to flinch when Emma opens her mouth, however a visible expression of relief settles on his face as soon as she speaks.]

“God no! Singing is the last thing I wanna do right now! Emma. Something is incredibly wrong.”

[Is all he manages, panicked. Somehow the teen forgot his inhaler. Glancing behind him, Emma sees a group of people dancing in the parking lot… interesting.]

“T-there’s some kind of infection! It’s got Paul.”

[The teen pleads, his anxiety building with each moment. His arms are tucked as close as they can be to his body, and every muscle was tense.]

“What can I do that’ll convince you that I’m human?!”

“I guess I can do that.”

“Infection got him. Last I saw he was dancing to work. As in instead of walking, he was dancing to move.”

“AND YOU’RE OKAY WITH THAT?!”

[He shouts. Emma sees a tear forming in the corner of his eye.]

“Emma I- I think he’s dead… Whatever thing is controlling him, it’s just puppeting his corpse.”

“H-He’s fucking dead! Paul -hic- is dead! Does that not b-bother you?! You’re hugging his corpse Emma!”

Just as Emma was about to walk back to Richie's table, a certain someone burst through the back door.

"♪ EMMAAAAA! ♪"