>He?
>He has no?
“Are you a eunuch?" You say
>Where's his dick lmao
“Sam? Do you hear me? I'm- I'm trying- where is your dick, man?"
>Sam isn't hearing you
>His face is pulsing bright red, his jaw heavily slacked downward
>Powerful tremors shake through him and dislodge words and thoughts from the hollows of his skull
>And even though he looks like he's just been shot, he doesn't move to cover himself
>And neither do you, because there's a block in your ability to process things right now
>Your eyes mindlessly flick between his bare groin and the way his eyes explode out of his face, and then to a circular scar encrusting his right shoulder, like a vivid burn mark
>Your brain is doing the analytical equivalent of 2+2=5
>You open your mouth to ask him where his dick is agai-
>Sam plummets backwards like a statue cleaved off of its stand
>You watch him crash, unable to will your body to move and try to prevent his oncoming concussion
>All it takes is one heartbeat
>You hear his skull bounce off the floor with a dampened *pomf*
>And you stand there like some kind of leaden idol, feeling nothing but your heart pounding
>Looking at nothing but the pile of poofy pirate pants and Sam laying on the floor, unconscious
>And thinking nothing except “where's her dick?"
>You drown in the pinks of your eyelids, eyes shut, as if to reset your nervous system
>Wow
>It's roomy behind your eyes and above your throat
>Lotttaaaa empty space
>Maybe the distant echo of your inner-self pounding his head against an imaginary wall
>Dunno
>Did that really happen?
>You bend your fingers inwards, squeezing them into a weak fist
>Then you wiggle your toes
>You can… move
>Yeah
>When you open your eyes, Sam is still there in that pile of himself(herself?)
>Still dickless
>You creep over to him(her?) as if your feet were made of fragile glass
>He(she?) still has his(her?) right leg halfway into a pair of canvas-white pirate pants
>Your eyes travel upwards from the pants
>You know that's only a distraction from the real investigation you're trying to conduct
>Steeling yourself, you let your gaze settle on his(her?) crotch
>…
>Yep
>That's EXACTLY what you think it is
>You swallow hard, and your mind feels like it's trying to rebuild itself after being reduced to a chunky, dysphoric slurry
>So… the whole time… Sam has been a girl?
>He- shit, SHE has kept it under wraps this whole time? Why?
“Why the hell…? What's the point of hiding this?"
>You want to wake her up
>You want to grab her and shake her and ask why she'd keep this from you, and what it put you through
>Instead, you do the next best (and right) thing
>Your feet barely touch the ground as you tip-toe to the opposite side of the dressing room, all the while keeping one eye on Sam
>She still has shock pressed into the lines of her young face, which looks more feminine than before — less angled and softer at the cheeks and at the jaw
>But her eyes are clamped down and her mouth is screwed shut, and, thanks to the her decision to strip bare, you can see her meager chest rising and falling with unconscious grace
>It's like watching a very small and weak balloon inflate and then deflate
>It takes everything in you not to try to stir her awake
>Watching her fall unconscious was hard enough
>But this… this was like standing by, helpless, while a beautiful bird with broken wings struggles uselessly to take flight again
>You want to rescue her
>But you don't. You do what you think you should
“Please don't wake up, please don't wake up, please don't wake up," you beg the unconscious bunny, whose eyes scrunch together and whose brow furrows
>She looks like she's in pain
>You hover over her, holding her ratty old hoodie
>Sweat beads from your forehead and down the bridge of your nose, threatening a high-dive onto Sam's own forehead
>You drape her ratty old hoodie across her rounded hips, hovering over her body like a crane trying to defuse a small bomb
>And all the while, you keep flicking your gaze over to her bare crotch and the pink slit that is her sex
>You still can't believe it
>You swear, the next time you blink, you're going to wake back up in your bed on Friday night of last week
>And all of this is going to be a dream
>There will be no horrible plot to destroy the earth
>Mike will be normal
>You will have never have fought
>Your house will have never been destroyed
>You will have never made that pact with the goths
>You will have never stolen Sam
>In fact
>When you wake up, you'll still hate him… her…?
>You layer the hoodie gently across her lower half as she begins to stir
>When will you wake up?
>You don't wake up
>She does
>Little slivers of rusted gold peer up at you, shuddering with dim recognition
>Her mouth starts to move, and you freeze, hovering over her, obscuring her in your shadow
>"I'm s-s-sorry."
>You take a safe step backwards, face burning with hot blood
“I don't understand," you say, trying not to look at her. You direct your eyes anywhere but at her
>Sam props herself up on her palms, still shaking
>"P-Please…"
>She makes a spinning motion with her fingers
“Oh, right! Christ, I'm such an idiot." Berating yourself feels like the only sensible thing you can do right now (other than turning around)
>You do a sharp spin and face the corner like a child who's being punished
>Sam pulls on her boxers first, then hoodie, and then sweats — none of which are done with anything resembling speed or urgency
>Mostly just defeat
>"O-O-Okay, y-y-you can turn a-a-around." The sadness in her voice is almost as powerful as your shame
>And your curiosity
>When you face her, she's still the same old Sam you've known for years
>The Sam who you've grown to call a friend
>The Sam you care about
>The Sam that still furiously blushes when you so much as lay a finger on her
>This may be the same bunny, but you can sense a change
>So you've gotta know now
>But first, something very important:
“I'm… REALLY sorry, Sam. I didn't mean to barge in on you like that. I though you were in the room next to this one, and… I don't really have a good explanation other than the fact that I'm a fucking idiot."
>Sam points her eyes downward at her feet
>"I-I-It's okay. O-Or, I m-mean, it's n-not okay. I do-don't know. I do-don't kn-know anything."
>There's an awkward pause, where you're staring hard at Sam but she's focusing all of her attention into avoiding eye contact
>Guess it's now or never
“Why?" You say, and you think you know what to say next, but your tongue seems to swell in your mouth
>Nothing comes out but stupid noise and the hissing of your throat
>She forces her hands behind her back to try and abstain from pulling at her ears
>"W-What?"
“Why. Why did you keep this from me? Does Jenna know?"
>Ah, truth at last
>She shakes her head, sweeping her bangs into her eyes
>"N-Nobody kn-knows ex-except Dad."
“Just dressing and acting like a guy is one thing, but pretending to be one? Are you trans?"
>You pause
>Was that the wrong thing to say? Shit
>What are you supposed to say when someone comes out to you
“Because I swear I won't be mad at you if you are. I'm just confused. Help me understand."
>Again she shakes her head
>"I-I'm not… no… I do t-t-this be-because…"
>Her eyes start to blaze in the light, and you can see the frustration pressed into her face
>Maybe this was a mistake
>Actually, not maybe. This whole thing is predicated on your mistake
>Well, you better make it right you fucking moron
“You don't need to tell me-"
>"Be-Because m-m-my br-brother is d-dead-d-d-dead-"
>Gentle sobs start to clip the last of her syllables
“I know. You must have really loved hi-"
“Bec-c-cause of m-m-me,"
>Wat
>"I k-killed him."
>Wow
>You felt that one like a lead fist in the ribs
>Right about where your dusty old heart shudders and pumps dried blood
>She looks like she wants to cry, but isn't allowing herself to
>Not yet
>She wipes her nose with a snotty sleeve
>Her voice plummets into a hoarse whisper
>"J-J-Jacob tried to m-make me tough a-and st-strong- so I could s-stand up for m-myself."
“You ARE tough and strong! With all the shit you go through-"
>Now you see something you haven't ever seen before:
>An angry Sam
>"GIRLS A-A-AREN'T STRONG!" She blazes, chest heaving. “G-Girls are w-w-weak and I-I have to b-be strong. I-I h-have to b-be strong f-f-for J-Jacob… I h-have to be the s-s-s-son my d-d-d-dad d-didn't get to h-have."
>She doesn't strangle her ears this time around
>Instead, she tightens all of her anger and remorse and sadness between her fingers and closes her fists around them
>You just stand there, feeling limp and useless
>And more than that:
>Guilty
>She looks at you, flush in the face, chest swelling with hot air that she pushes in and out with each ragged breath
>You're not sure if she's going to start yelling again
>But she doesn't
>She looks at you one last time with that fire in her eyes, and then…
>She slams her eyes shut — hard
>She shakes her head, throwing her dangling ears around violently, trying to dislodge her confusing and conflicting thoughts
>Her fingers spread outward, and her body stops trembling, like a rocket struggling to fire off the launch pad
>All that's left between you two is silence, the sound of Sam trying to get her breathing under control
>And outside the door, the muffled drone of Halloween music marches a steady beat
>Now is the time to say something, because this silence is worse than driving pins and needles into your skin
>It's selfish
>You know that?
>It's selfish to want to distract yourself from this pain
>Maybe it's something you need to face, for yourself
>For Sam
>"I-I'm sorry," she says weakly. “I d-don't… I d-d-didn't mean to s-s-shout."
>Now it's your turn to sigh
>God it's such a relief
>You don't know if you could handle Sam being mad at you
“The only thing you have to apologize for is not thinking you're strong. God damnit, kid, you're tougher than me and Mike and Alex combined. I don't know how you got it in your head that you're weak… that you need to replace your brother, or anything like that."
>Sam looks wounded, but you carry on
“I have spent my entire life up until Tuesday afternoon being a gutless coward. I don't see myself in you — not even a little bit."
>"B-But you s-s-saved me from m-my d-d-dad. Y-You d-d-did wh-what I couldn't," she counters. And it's a fair counter — if you leave out the fact that you were aided by a supernatural curse
>You shake your head
“That wasn't me. Or, it wasn't the real me. Everything brave and important I've ever done has been because I sacrificed Gloria Duchene to the goths. But not anymore. On Tuesday, I made that choice to quit living like a fucking coward."
>You pause, searching for a truth in the vacant silence
>You're not tough
>Not an asshole
>Not strong
>You only know one thing:
“I'm scared of everything," you say with a heavy sigh. You turn your eyes away from her. “Why do you think I haven't decided on my future yet, or sacked up and picked a college? Why do you think we're hiding in a church instead of out looking for your dad to confront him? Christ, Sam, there's a million things I wish I could say to you right now, but they die on their way out. But every day I get a little stronger. Every day I learn more and more what I'm capable of."
>You squat down and meet her height
>Her eyes are still and fixed on your own
“I keep telling myself, if Sam can hit her dad with a baseball bat, then I can make it through until tomorrow — even if it kills me."
>Neither you, nor the rabbit, say anything for awhile
>You stare into one another
>And at one point, you swear, you traded brains for a second
>And a brain is a private, intimate place
>You felt what it was like to have someone wander around in the garden of your thoughts and memories
>First violation, then admittance, and then wonder
>And you, too, spent what felt like an hour inside of Sam's mind, uprooting her pain, hearing distant rushes of train whistles felling forests and arcing blows of fists across your tender bone
>And then the connection severed
>You retrieved yourself from Sam, and her from you, and you tried desperately to memorize all that you had seen or done
>Sam must have felt the yank of separation, the cascade of sensory data overwhelming her synapses, because at last she blinked
>And then you blink, staring lucidly into one another's eyes, but seeing more than just your own reflections
>Your eyes lock on her lips pink lips — the color of a ripe peach
>And you lean forward
>She shudders, her eyes falling shut in resignation
>Of mind first
>Then of body
>…
>You pull back at the last possible second, your lips a hair's width from brushing one another
>When you open her eyes, her lips are still curled, her eyes still shut
>Waiting for you
>And you are full of shame
The Leaves of Fall Act 3: Something That Matters (Part 8)
You've never really 'fit in' with the heavily divided Ranchview High School crowd. Jock, Goth, Prep, Cheerleader, Nerd... you were never any of these. But as Halloween approaches, strange things start happening, and a dark ritual begins with the finding of a curious red book. It's a race against time for you and your friends to stop a group of students from ushering in an age of darkness, and to also figure out just what the hell is wrong with that rabbit.
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About this version: originally, The Leaves of Fall was split into two pastebins to compensate for the length of the story. Given that pastebin has chosen to censor this story for ambiguous reasons, it will forever be stored here and on AO3. This new version contains spelling, grammar and content fixes. Please understand that the content is all the same as the earlier versions minus some sentences being changed and fixed up. I cannot stress this enough: no new content has been added. It's my hope that this is a cleaner, easier-to-read version of the story.
Cover: https://imgur.com/a/vZS4Q
Sam (drawn by Akella of /hmofa/) https://imgur.com/a/nk3t1wT
Fan art collection: https://imgur.com/a/SCCSIQv
Accompanying playlist (WIP): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL9aXlzDRA49QKxgYsOV2JuDd410_nI-0J
Alternative link: https://www.sofurry.com/view/1479078
Total word count: 147,552 words
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
About this version: originally, The Leaves of Fall was split into two pastebins to compensate for the length of the story. Given that pastebin has chosen to censor this story for ambiguous reasons, it will forever be stored here and on AO3. This new version contains spelling, grammar and content fixes. Please understand that the content is all the same as the earlier versions minus some sentences being changed and fixed up. I cannot stress this enough: no new content has been added. It's my hope that this is a cleaner, easier-to-read version of the story.
Cover: https://imgur.com/a/vZS4Q
Sam (drawn by Akella of /hmofa/) https://imgur.com/a/nk3t1wT
Fan art collection: https://imgur.com/a/SCCSIQv
Accompanying playlist (WIP): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL9aXlzDRA49QKxgYsOV2JuDd410_nI-0J
Alternative link: https://www.sofurry.com/view/1479078
Total word count: 147,552 words
4 years ago
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Estimated reading time
11 Minutes
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