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Out of all the places in Alderville, the Biology laboratory might just be Quyen’s favourite.
Ironic, because when she was younger, maybe twelve, and she had dissected her first flower— it was supposed to be a frog but she was friends with the frogs in her neighbourhood in Phan Thiết and she couldn’t fathom the thought of cutting one open—, she had cried at the sensation of stamen rubbing against her little twelve-year-old fingers that haven’t grown since.
But something about the sharp scent of antiseptic wafting through the air paired with the vague, yet ominous darkness that shrouds the entire room never fails to make Quyen feel at home.
A lot of Alderville is… intricate. Futuristic, almost, with its high-technology laboratories and its students whose quick, harsh fingers clack against the keyboards as they pump out their assignments at abnormally fast rates. The Chemistry laboratory is filled with glass test tubes and beakers that look as though they might break if someone stares at them too hard, and the Physics laboratory’s walls are lined with lenses used for refraction and screw gauges that are ancient, as if they would crumble upon being touched.
The Biology laboratory, however, has a distinct sense of This. This is where I belong.
Here, the jars filled with a myriad of organisms take her back to the day when her father first told her she was proud of her, when she had done well on a practical examination in her school in Phan Thiết. Here, the pristine tables with not a speck of dust on them serve as a reminder of the large dining table back home, the way her mother would wipe them down before someone prominent from her work came over, getting rid of all the evidence of the erase residue (and tears) that had taken place earlier while solving math problems with her father. Here, if Quyen is quiet enough, she might just hear the skeleton perched in the far left corner of the laboratory breathing, ribs rattling with wheezed exhales, nostalgic— is it nostalgia if thinking about it leaves your chest concaving within itself?— of all the stifled gasps after coming home with eight points on the grading scale rather than ten.
Somehow, somewhere, her mind has clutched onto the Biology laboratory as a safe haven in the labyrinthe that is Alderville, which automatically makes it one of her favourite spots to study in.
And she desperately needs to do that, considering the exam is in less than ten days, and she doesn’t have notes to rely on to get her through this. Just the tall stack of books that she borrowed from the library a few hours ago, though half of them were missing from their shelves.
She’s smart enough to know that the reason those half of the books were missing is because Thea has taken them to do some studying of her own, but she isn’t as… angry about the situation as she expected to be.
Partially because she knows that Thea is in the same boat as she is, or at least, she hopes she is, but mostly because she’s too tired to care.
It’s almost a fever dream, if Quyen is being honest. She never thought the day would come when she would be tired enough to not care about what Thea is doing with relation to her studies, but really, after spending the previous night pouring over her scrap notes that she had made during a lecture, and the night before that, awake on the grass and staring at the stars, her brain doesn’t have the capacity to be angry at anyone but herself.
Rolling back her shoulders, she makes her way into the laboratory, spare key in hand, but once she’s at the door, she finds that she doesn’t need it at all. A small crack between the door and the wall is enough for her to know that if she pushes that door open, she isn’t about to be the only one in the library.
It’s three in the afternoon, her thoughts remind her, as if she could ever forget the time, not when every moment of her day is scheduled according to time. Meaning that the laboratory should be free right now.
There’s always the possibility of someone else being in the laboratory for the same reason that she regularly goes there— there are more immigrant students in Alderville than there aren’t, and maybe the sterile tools remind someone else of home too. Though she sincerely hopes that that isn’t the case, because if the Biology laboratory reminds someone else of home, that means that their home wasn’t a very homely place to be, after all.
Only one way to find out, she manages to convince herself, pushing the rusted door open because frankly, if there was anyone in the laboratory, they would leave if they saw her. That was just how it was, and that's how it always has been.
If someone sees her with a book, or multiple books in hand, they leave. Not because she wants them to, though she does appreciate that they do, but because all the students are aware of her ambitions to be Valedictorian. It’s all her parents talk about when they have meetings with her teachers over the phone, it’s all her teachers talk about to her, and as a result, it’s all she ever talks about.
Sometimes, she wonders if the people around her want her to become Valedictorian more than she does. But that’s a scary thought, because then, what does she want?
Exhaling sharply, she rids her brain of all the thoughts that are sure to consume her if she doesn't, and enters the laboratory, setting her books down on one of the tables far to the back, practically hidden from view. Here, the prying eyes of her peers aren’t around, watching her every move, waiting for her to make a mistake so that they can mock her. Here, she gets to be alone.
And sure, she can be alone in her dorm room too, but with the pictures on her bedside of her and her parents before she was labelled as the one who would bring pride to the family, she can’t help but be reminded of the simpler times. Her younger self’s prying eyes are more judgemental than anyone else’s. They aren’t mocking, they’re just… sad. They just ask her, How did we end up here?
So, unfortunately, her dorm room isn’t exactly one where she can seek solitude, not unless she locks up every photo frame and covers every mirror. She can never be alone.
Though she suspects that she isn’t exactly alone here either, if the low humming coming from the only bathroom in the laboratory, supported by the quiet rush of running water from a tap into a sink is anything to go by.
And only when the person steps out does she realise that she’s never been alone.
Really, she should have been more perceptive. Should have spotted that the thick spiral notebooks at the far end of the table weren’t there as a result of someone’s forgetfulness. Should have seen that all the missing books from the library, the ones that she wanted, were placed in a neat stack on a chair.
“Why are you everywhere?” is the first sentence that escapes Quyen’s lips as she stares at the girl in front of her. “You’re literally everywhere I need to be.” She’s ranting now, and maybe it’s because of how utterly tired she is, or maybe it’s because she just wants to study, but she doesn’t care about how pathetic her voice sounds when it comes out and she definitely doesn’t care about how it cracks, a tell-tale sign that she’s on the verge of tears. “First, you were at the fucking Chemistry classroom even though we don’t have Chemistry on Tuesdays, and then, you were at the library when I tried to get away from you. Then, you were at the pavilion when I was going to talk to Arya—”
“To be fair—”
“— And no, I don’t care that neither of us got the notes,” she interrupts, because she isn’t finished. She doesn’t think she ever will be. “I care that you’re everywhere. You’re here too, at the Biology lab, even though no one ever comes to this lab. So why are you here? You’re in my—” Voice cracking into pieces, she shakes her head, It’s pitiful. Embarrassing. “You’re in my fucking head all the time, and I’m so tired of it. I’m so tired,” she finishes, and God, is she fucking exhausted.
If simply talking about how she’s been feeling the past few days leaves her exhausted— though she has to admit that part of her is exhausted for reasons that aren’t talking about feelings—, she doesn’t know how exhausted she’s going to be once, if she ever, she talks about how she’s been feeling ever since she turned ten.
For a moment, Thea doesn’t say anything.
And then, it goes from just a moment to two, and then it’s three before she finally says, “Do you ever think about why you’re so tired?”
What?
The bone-deep weariness that’s been eating her alive is suddenly replaced by anger. Again.
Her parents always said that her anger would be her downfall, if it weren’t for her inability to remain motivated. So, she showed them by not losing motivation for the rest of the years to come and by not keeping a cap on her anger, but by letting her rage run wild so that it didn’t prove to be the cause of her downfall.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
Thea chuckles quietly, it bounces off the walls of the laboratory. “Quyen,” she begins, so utterly condescending as she continues, “I want to become Valedictorian just as much as you do— and before you pull that shit about how you work harder, I don’t give a fuck. I want to become Valedictorian just as much as you do, but everyone knows that working yourself into the ground isn’t going to get you there. You’re smart, you know that this isn’t going to get you there.”
And just like that, something inside Quyen snaps.
She’s been trying to be civil, trying to keep her anger— and tears due to her pure fucking exhaustion— at bay, but what she can’t do is sit here and tolerate Thea Salvador lecturing her on how she should and shouldn’t be living her life. Her parents do that enough, and she doesn’t want or need anyone else to do the same.
She’s not going to be civil anymore.
“Yeah?” she bites back, she doesn’t know why, all she knows is that she’s so, so worn out and she’s angry. And oddly… ashamed. But she can’t let that seep through her already cracked skin, so she just fires out a harsh, “And what do you think will get me there? Not studying at all? That’s what you do, right? Fuck knows how you got into Alderville without studying a day in your life.”
Instantly, she knows that she’s pushed a bit too far.
They’ve always taunted each other about grades on papers, praise or criticism from teachers, but there’s always been a mutual understanding of how excruciatingly hard they’ve both had to work to get to where they are. How much they’ve had to sacrifice to get where they are.
Quyen knows that she’s sacrificed her chance at freedom, her chance at being a person outside of her brain, and she’s made peace with it. But more often than not, she finds herself wondering if Thea feels the same way.
It’s hard to imagine— not with Thea being as carefree and nonchalant as she is about practically everything that comes her way— but it’s always been one of the few questions that Quyen hasn’t been able to answer.
But when Thea replies to her with a bitter, “Okay, fuck you, you know that?”, she knows that Thea does, in fact, feel the same way. “I’d expect this from literally anyone except you, Quyen. You, out of everyone, should know exactly how much effort goes into getting into Alderville and then actually doing well in Alderville. You’re so fucking— you’re so adamant on hating me, on thinking I’m your enemy, and sure, I fucking hate that you’re so unbelievably smart sometimes, but at least I can admit that you deserve to be here.” Her volume is raised now, loud, unforgiving. “You and your ridiculous fucking superiority complex think that you’re the only one who deserves any sort of academic achievements. I’m sorry, I truly am, that you’re stressed all the time, because it’s obvious that you are. But I’m not arguing with you over this anymore, and I’m definitely not leaving the Biology laboratory.”
And with that, Thea rolls her eyes and takes a seat right where her books are— the books that Quyen had been searching for—, before opening them up and letting her gaze fall down to them.
Now, however, there isn’t a seething rage brewing and bubbling in Quyen’s chest anymore. Instead, it’s replaced by the one emotion she hates feeling.
Anger is something she’s accustomed to, so is sadness. But humiliation isn’t.
It isn’t a kind of humiliation that one spends sleepless nights thinking about though, it isn’t the one that consumes your entire soul either. It’s the one that leaves a lump in your throat every time you think about it. The one that makes you want to cry instead of burying yourself in a hole and never returning. The one that leaves you so deeply mortified that you can’t bring yourself to concentrate on anything else, your mind always rerouting to the woods rather than the path that everyone advises you to take.
So, all she can say is, “Okay”, as she attempts to fight off the heat pricking behind her eyes (it’s winning the fight, she’s sure of it), bowing her head down and redirecting her focus to her own books in front of her, while allowing Thea to study, because at this point, she’s too tired to care about whether or not her arch-nemesis is about to surpass her at the one thing she’s good at.
But that doesn’t mean that she isn’t going to go down without a fight.
I can do this, she tells herself, spreading out the multiple textbooks that she borrowed onto the bench she’s seated at, creating a near-replica of her own study table in her own room, because she’s never been able to study in spotlessness. There always has to be some sort of chaos around her, but not an uncontrolled chaos. One that she has jurisdiction over, because God knows she doesn’t have much control over anything else in her life. So, again, she repeats to herself, I can do this.
Except that she can’t.
It isn’t anything new for her to have her concentration and attention span abruptly stolen from her, as if they were even there in the first place, but what is new for her is having her concentration being zapped by something as trivial as people staring at her.
Or perhaps it’s because it’s fucking Thea who’s staring at her.
Out of all the people Quyen has ever interacted with in her life, Thea may just take the cake for being the single most infuriating person she has ever met— not because of her piercing gaze that renders her utterly useless in the academic aspect of things, not because of her curiously phenomenal way of retaining information in that abnormally large brain of hers. No, not because of any of that.
Thea is infuriating because she’s the only person Quyen can truly interact with and neither zone out nor bore her during conversation, they both know it.
It isn’t that Thea’s friends are bad people— there aren’t too many of those in Alderville, everyone understands the pressures of an elitist boarding school. They’re just… dull. Drab.
Beggars can’t be choosers, her parents would chastise her every time she wondered why they would move to more run-down apartments than their previous ones back in Vietnam.
But here, Quyen has chosen. And she’s chosen that she would rather not have any friends at a school that thrives on the downfall of people, even if that leaves her with no one in the end. So while Thea has friends in Alderville and Quyen doesn’t have any, Quyen is fully aware of how utterly insipid conversations can be with people at Alderville, regardless of whether or not they were friends or foes.
That’s just how it is— not many at Alderville care about the subjects they study at more than a superficial level, they barely break skin.
Quyen and Thea, however… They do so much more than wounds that can be repaired with sutures. They claw their nails into the crevices of what they study, they rip vital organs out of the cadavers of their books, their pages are so much more than just dead trees wrenched from the soil. To them, every book is a human body, breathing, feeling, and they want— no, need— to suck the life out of them, devour them until they’re nothing but corpses, rotting away in front of them.
There’s no one else who ravages their books like Quyen does, like Thea does— and even though Thea doesn’t always admit it, it’s all in her eyes. The innate craving to let her studies engulf her whole, despite the flames licking at her skin, the organic, almost fundamental, urge to talk and talk and talk about the Chemistry experiments that take place in Alderville’s laboratory, the feverish impulse to sink her claws into every book and restart their hearts— Quyen is all too familiar with it.
Sometimes she wonders if her hatred for Thea wasn't all-consuming, they might be friends.
It’s been a while since she’s had one of those.
“You said that you were going to study.” Thea’s sharp voice cuts through Quyen’s thoughts, and instantly, her eyes snap back into focus, only to realise that she’s been staring back at Thea this whole time. “But you’ve been practically glaring at me for the past five minutes. What is it?”
Fucking hell. “Nothing,” Quyen mutters quietly, shifting her gaze back to her scattered books, when Thea speaks again.
“You can’t study,” she states, like it’s a fact. Like every single person in Alderville is familiar with the fact that Quyen has a hard time concentrating, when in reality, it’s just Thea who knows. It’s always Thea who knows. “Why? I’m not even disturbing you, so you can’t blame me this time, even though I know just how much you enjoy doing that.”
And Quyen doesn’t know why she says it, why she chooses to be honest to someone like Thea, someone who could very well use it to her own advantage, but she says it. And she doesn't regret it either.
“I can’t… I struggle with studying and stuff,” she mumbles, and then, louder, she says, “I have ADHD. And that makes my focus practically non-existent, so… yeah.”
Just like that, a piercing heat pricks behind her eyes again, but she can’t help the laugh that escapes her throat, because fuck, she’s spent so long not telling anyone about the thing her parents consider to be a weakness, and now it’s out. Someone finally knows.
Shaking her head, she laughs again, breathing out a cracked, “You’re the first person in this school who knows that, you know? Which is wild, because you’re also my most despised person in this school, and you’ll probably— no, definitely— use it against me. So—”
But before she can go any further, Thea is interrupting her with a scoff and a roll of her eyes. She has pretty eyes, Quyen notes. “I might not like you as a person, Quyen, but trust me when I say that I won’t use the fact that you’re neurodivergent as some sort of leverage over you. I can come out on top without using a part of your identity against you.”
For a brief moment, Quyen is too stunned to say anything. Because this is exactly the opposite of what her parents said that people would do if they found out. And that’s impossible.
“O-Okay, well—”
“I’m not finished,” Thea interjects, the books scattered on both their desks long forgotten. “Would you use the fact that I’m trans against me? Just to get your way?” She doesn’t bother waiting for an answer before she continues, “Of course you wouldn’t. Because you’re not an awful person. And well, also because you’re a lesbian, but mostly the first one. And unless you think I’m an awful person—”
“You’re a lot of things but a bad person isn’t one of them.”
“— Then why would you think I’d use your ADHD against you?” she finishes, and for some fucking reason, she’s smiling. Like this is amusing to her. Like Quyen’s inability to accept that not every crumb of her identity will be used as an impetus for her downfall is reason to smile.
Frankly, she isn’t sure. She isn’t sure why she automatically assumes that any time someone wants to know more about her, they’re plotting ways to take her down.
Except that she is sure. She knows exactly who put those ideas into her head.
“... Or daddy issues?” It takes Quyen a moment to come back to her senses, to realise that Thea is talking and has been talking to her this whole time.
“Pardon?”
Another unfavourable consequence of her ADHD— checking out in the middle of conversations. And joining back when half the context has flown by. But Thea doesn’t seem to mind, for some reason.
How does she not mind? Quyen can’t help but think, and then, Why does she not mind?
Instead, Thea just laughs and shakes her head, before saying, “Who the fuck says pardon? You’ve really let the elites of this school poison your vocabulary, huh?” Thumb most-likely involuntarily rubbing the tattoo on the middle finger of her other hand, she repeats, “What’s the reason behind you thinking that I’m going to use your ADHD against you? I know that you’re smart enough to know better, so is it the teachers who put that idea into your head? Or is it the parents? Mommy issues or daddy issues?”
Maybe it’s the years of not having anybody other than School Counsellor Imogen to talk to— who has always been painfully real with her, almost like an older sibling—, or maybe it’s because Thea is finally something other than a machine who eats equations or breakfast, definitions for lunch, and derivations for dinner, but Quyen decides to be honest.
“Try both. Mommy and daddy issues,” she laughs out, and now, the words are spilling out of her, all the stitches she’s carefully sewn on her mouth splitting apart to make way for the sheer weight of the words that are leaving her mouth. “I mean, they’re not the worst. They just want what’s best for me, especially because— well, you know how it is. You’re Filipina, right?”
“Half,” Thea confirms quietly, but all Quyen can think is She’s actually been listening. “Mom is Filipina, Dad was Puerto Rican.”
Was. “Yeah, well… you know,” Quyen mumbles, making a mental note about the was and also to not bring it up unless Thea says something about it. “Pressure to do well because they never had the opportunities that we have. They live vicariously through me and my grades, and anything that doesn’t follow their idea of how my academics should go is a strike in their book. Does that make sense?”
“Mhm.”
She’s still listening. It’s been so long since someone listened.
Sighing, Quyen shrugs, twirling her pen between her raw, freshly-bitten fingers. “I shouldn’t, because they think that this is what’s best for me, but I do, I think. I resent them, sometimes. Just a little, but enough.” In the back of her mind, her father’s quiet but sharp voice is chastising her for telling anyone about herself. But she continues. “I’m Hard of Hearing, have been since birth. You know this, everyone knows this. It’s not exactly something that I can hide,” she states with a laugh, pointing at the hearing aids on her ears. “But my parents… They see it as— well, not exactly a weakness, but just another liability that people can hold over my head. The fact that I’m a lesbian, the fact that I have ADHD, the fact that I’m Hard of Hearing— theyre all just things that deviate from their plans for the perfect Vietnamese daughter. And then, there’s the pressure that Alderville puts on you once you’re their top student. Or, well, one of them. It’s just—”
Only then does she realise that she’s been talking too much. A bit too much, even if she wasn’t taking her parents’ words into consideration. Too much for anyone interacting with another person they dislike, not just for her.
Enough. “Uh— sorry,” she mutters, the mortification of simply being perceived by Thea as something other than a well-oiled machine with no defects, no glitches that need to be repaired stopping her. “There’s— it’s fine though. They’re doing what’s best for me and I want to make them happy. And if that means letting them live vicariously through me while I become Valedictorian, they’re more than free to do so.”
She doesn’t know what she expects. Maybe a concession from Thea as she goes back to her books, maybe even a scoff because she still can’t get the notion out of her head that what she’s just said won’t be used to hurt her.
What she definitely doesn’t expect is for Thea to tell her about herself.
“It’s not exactly the same,” she begins, adjusting the glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. “But my mom is pretty similar. Dad wasn’t like that, he was…” She trails off, a gentle smile raising her lips up as she continues, “He was everything a father should be. Died a couple of years ago, that’s when everything went to shit. Anyway, my mom isn’t the greatest when it comes to— well, when it comes to everything. School, sexuality, gender. Got the tattoo to piss her off, if I’m being honest, but I think it’s cool regardless.”
“It is.”
Thea just smiles, a little wider this time, before pushing the stray hairs slipping out of her ponytail out of her eyes. And fuck, Quyen doesn’t know how she didn’t realise just how utterly beautiful Thea is sooner. When she isn’t being a Class A bitch, that is.
“I know.” Rolling her shoulders back, Thea shakes her head, expression souring slightly as she mutters, “Anyway. Was talking about the hag.” The sour downturn of her lips reverts back, just a little, when a reflex laugh bubbles out of Quyen’s lips. “I’m not becoming Valedictorian for her. I’m doing it for myself, I think. For my dad too, but mostly to, I guess, prove to myself that I’m not the incapable, disgraceful child she makes me out to be. And also because becoming Valedictorian would be really fucking sick. So yeah. I’m familiar with motives being for reasons that aren’t passion or shit like that. Spite is a perfectly valid motive, I think,” she finishes with a laugh, a laugh that echoes through the quiet of the laboratory.
It’s beautiful.
Quyen blinks. And then, again.
Thea was… impenetrable. And suddenly, she isn’t.
Suddenly, she’s just as tired as Quyen is, tired of parental pressure and academic pressure and being seen as nothing but a brain first and a body second. Tired of parents who don’t value you for anything beyond your brain, who don’t respect basic facets of your identity.
“Yeah,” is all Quyen can get out, boulder in her throat physically preventing her from saying anything else. “Yeah.”
Laughing softly, Thea hums and points to the books tossed on Quyen’s side of the laboratory, lips quirking up into a tiny smirk. “Anyway,” she drawls. “Time to study. May the best woman— though we’re both more machine than human, if I’m being honest— win, and all that, right?”
“Right,” Quyen echoes, but as Thea’s head bends down and her gaze returns to her books placed neatly in front of her, the only thing Quyen can think is—
No one in Alderville has ever been more human than Thea.
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AN: hello !!!! we're back w another chapter !!!! besties are warming up to each other in chapter 3 bec this is a short story and also bc they're rational women and not irrational like men in enemies to lovers books <3
it's november! which is the month for nanowrimo !! so . this is as good a time as any to tell y'all that i'm working on a whole new book for nanowrimo, which will be published on wp in december 😋
the book will feature;
a nonbinary, aromantic mc, religious trauma wooo, found family (!!!!!), and finding yourself. oh, and also it's christmas themed <3
so !!!! keep ur eyes peeled for that if you'd like !! (and perhaps . for another book too......👁️)
thank u all for reading and sticking around w my erratic update schedules :") appreciate u all a lot, thank u for being here 💖 have a good day everyone !! <3