CHAPTER 3
STRAIGHT UP GOD

"YOU'VE got to be kidding me, mom."

Francesca Avery turned to her daughter standing in the doorway of the kitchen. Various baking supplies were spread out across the large island, from baking soda to semi-sweet chocolate morsels. She pulled out two baking sheets out the oven, licking melted chocolate from the cookies off her fingers. Shaking her head at her daughter, Francesca took out one of her best serving plates and began to place cookies on it, burning her long fingers in the process. Coraline assumed her mother was about to leave for work because she was wearing her uniform and trying her hardest not to get it dirty.

"This what we have to do to ..." Francesca waved her hands around, coming up with words that would make sense. "To stay in their good graces."

Coraline lifted a brow. "Who? The new neighbors?"

Her mother chewed on her bottom lip and looked away, continuing to pile on cookies.

"God, mom. Can't you just leave them alone? Maybe that will help us stay in their good graces."

"You see? That's what they need, Cor: God. Straight up God." She wagged her finger in her daughter's face.

Coraline walked more into the kitchen and pushed her mother's finger away. She sighed heavily, "You've never cared about religion – like, ever. Why start now?"

"Because," Francesca replied, placing plastic wrap on top of the cookie plate. "Because I'll be damned if the way I die is by some Satanists down the street sacrificing me to Lucifer. No way, Jose."

The teenager rolled her eyes, crossing her arms across her chest. "Don't you have work soon? How do you planning on bringing those over?"

Her mother smiled big. "That's where you come in, sweet daughter." She reached out and pinched Coraline's cheeks, making them turn rosy red. "I'm going to go to work – so I can successfully feed and keep us warm each week – and you are going to win over these new Satanists by taking this plate of my homemade cookies to them."

Coraline's eyes shifted to the cookies sitting in a circle on her mother's gold-lined plate. Glancing back to Francesca, she snarled, "Are you sure those aren't just some store-bought cookies that you heated for dramatic effect?"

Francesca narrowed her eyes and smirked. "Positive," she muttered, shaking her daughter's chin before clicking her heels out of the kitchen.

Coraline followed her mother out into the main foyer, ready to scream for making her do her dirty work. But the front door was already closing, and her mother was wiggling her fingers goodbye. "You can't just leave me with this!" Coraline called, stomping her foot into the cream-colored carpet.

"Yes, I can!" Francesca's sing-song voice rang out as the door shut completely.

Coraline heard the revving of an engine outside, and then silence. She released a low groan, tilting her head up to the ceiling in agony. "I can't believe she's making me fucking do this," Coraline muttered to herself, grabbing the expensive plate of cookies. She sniffed some of the extras still laying on the warm baking sheet. Glancing around, she popped a whole chocolate chip cookie in her mouth before exiting the house.

She felt like a fool walking over to this goddamn two-floor home. She really hated doing her mom's dirty work, especially because Francesca was so afraid of some Satanists. Coraline wondered if she was also scared of her supposed "schizophrenic daughter" too. God knows everyone else in town was.

She felt like someone was watching her as she ascended the front steps of the porch. Coraline wondered if they did creepy rituals out here. The thought made her chuckle as she wrapped her fist on the old door. She blew out an annoyed sigh. It was a Friday evening and she was spending it doing this. Coraline remembered a time when Friday nights were spent in the woods, drinking shitty Four Lokos with her friends.

It didn't take long for the door to open, revealing a disheveled Michael Langdon waiting on the other side. He was in his normal attire: black tank and ripped, black jeans. She wondered if he ever got sweaty for wearing black all the time.

"Coraline Avery," he greeted eloquently, but with a childish smile. "I've seen you walk home alone the last couple days, and you haven't said a word. You can't tell me that we scared you away." He laughed softly.

Coraline flashed a wide grin, full of fakeness and sarcasm. "Not quite, Michael Langdon," she muttered. "You see, most of these people keep away from you because they're scared, but me ... I'm just busy." That was a total lie. She just didn't feel like talking to the weird boy, purely out of laziness and zero interest.

"So what brings you here now?"

Coraline exhaled heavily through her nostrils and shoved her hands forward, knocking the plate into Michael's chest. "My mom, apparently, doesn't want you guys to kill her, so her best idea to prevent that was to send you guys a plate of cookies."

"What an awesome peace offering," he replied, tugging off some of the plastic wrap and smelling the dessert. "How'd she know chocolate chip was my favorite?"

"Isn't it everyone's?" Coraline raised a brow.

Michael shook his head. "Not exactly," he smirked, biting down on one of the warm cookies. His playful demeanor came to a sudden halt, and a serious expression covered his face. The shift happened within seconds. Coraline wondered if she just experienced whiplash. "Do you want to talk in my room?"

Coraline leaned her head forward, peering inside the dark hallway. His supposed mother, Miriam, was nowhere in sight. She glanced back to Michael and wrinkled her nose. "We don't know each other that well."

His hand whipped out to shove the front door wider open. Coraline's eyes went wide. "Maybe we can get to know each other."

Most people in this situation would fear that they were being invited to their own murder, but Coraline's mind went in a totally different direction.

"Hey," she said, putting her hands up, "if you're planning to hook up, I've stopped doing that."

Michael's head cocked to the side.

Coraline laughed to herself, "No one really wants to hook up with a labeled psycho."

Silence. He only stared at her, curiosity dancing in his abnormally blue eyes, until a smile finally cracked across his mouth.

"I like psychos. They're cool." He shrugged, biting on his bottom lip. Confusion covered his features. "I don't really know what hooking up is, anyways."

Coraline knitted her brow. Her mouth slightly opened, but she didn't say a word. He was eighteen and didn't know what hooking up was? Has he ever had actual human contact with someone other than Miriam? She didn't really want to know the answers.

"Um ..." She pursed her lips. "Sure, I'll come in. As long as you give me one of those cookies."

Michael grinned big and instantly handed her one. Coraline held the cookie delicately in her hands and took a large bite, stepping one foot inside. The house was so ... dark. Hardly any lights in the entire first floor, besides a few lamps and candles scattered in the hallway. There was a large fireplace in the living room, which was to the left of the front hall. A large portrait of some monstrous-looking creature hung above it, scowling in the direction of the viewer with its bright red eyes.

She felt slightly terrified, but that only made her exhilarated. It reminded her of the times she could successfully sneak out to party with her friends.

Michael led her through the living room and into the kitchen, where he left the plate of cookies on the small, fold-up dining table. Coraline ate the rest of her cookie in one bite. Her eyes floated around the room, ogling the multiple Satanic symbols covering the walls. She swallowed hard. Not scary, she told herself. Just ... different.

"Follow me," Michael said, shaking Coraline out of her trance. He circled around the kitchen for a moment, as if he was playing a game, before leading her to the staircase in the middle of the front hallway. Coraline's feet creaked on each step, and she wondered if the stairs were so old that she could literally fall through.

She didn't know she was sweating until he escorted her to the second floor and into his room. Perspiration formed beneath her armpits in her jean jacket, and even on the top of her forehead. She wiped it away and noticed just how sweltering hot it was in this house.

Michael stood by the door once he let her inside his bedroom. Coraline noticed he had carved words into his wooden door as she plopped herself on the mattress. Black sheets and comforter. What a surprise.

"You do know its, like, sixty degrees outside." She said, tugging off her jacket and placing it on her lap. "You should probably put a fan in this room, unless you want to sweat to death."

He bounced on his heels, still standing by the door. "I like the warmth."

Coraline nodded slowly. The tension in the room was so awkward, and she slightly regretted accepting his offer. A rational person would want to leave as soon as they saw the Satanic posters and imagery covering his bedroom walls. However, Coraline Avery wanted to leave because she was bored.

"You can come sit over here, you know," she bluntly stated, motioning for him to come forward.

Michael's head perked up, and he looked out the door for a moment, before walking forward. He sat down beside Coraline, a little too close for comfort. His legs were so long that his feet slapped against the floor immediately, but he began to wiggle them as if they were dangling over the edge. Coraline watched him with confusion.

"So," she exhaled, lacing her hands together, "where's your mom?"

"My mom?"

Coraline pointed to the polaroid photo he had of him and Miriam that sat crookedly on his bedside table.

"Oh," he said, allowing his whole torso to fall onto the mattress. Crossing his arms in back of his head, Michael smiled. "That's Miriam. She just takes care of me."

"At eighteen?" Coraline asked, and he nodded excitedly in response. She then moved her legs up on the bed and curled them in a criss-cross way. "So ... she's not your mom."

Michael paused for a moment, mouth forming in a hard line. "No. My family doesn't speak to me either, because of ... stuff."

Stuff, Coraline thought. Very informative.

She decided that the family subject was over, due to the light disappearing from his eyes. His expression was blank: perplexed, yet angry. Coraline bit the inside of her cheek, running a hand through her hair as she thought of an appropriate response.

"If it makes you feel better, my dad left us."

Michael's head spun in her direction, brows knitting together.

"Us being my mom and I," she clarified. Coraline looked to the spackled ceiling, frowning at the memory of waking up on a beautiful, Sunday morning to find her father not there. "He ... I don't know. My dad was a wealthy business man — investing in stocks, always striving for the best, you know? I can only guess that he fell in love with another person, and decided that we were just ... not the best anymore."

Michael sat up quickly. (Coraline secretly wondered if he had super speed.) "That's so mean."

"Yeah," she sighed, pouting her lip out as she placed her chin in her hand.

It was silent again. Coraline played with a thread coming off her shorts. Michael's eyes bore into her forehead, as if trying to burn a hole through her skin. She was fully aware of his stare, yet she did nothing about it. It almost felt ... nice to be stared at with admiration again.

"Do you have any friends?" She then asked, straightening her back.

The right side of Michael's lip curled. "Do you?"

Coraline was surprised when she started to grin. They were both silent, refusing to answer their questions. Maybe it was better that way.

"You don't get out much, do you?" Coraline lifted a brow, and before he could reply, she waved a hand in front of his face. "Don't answer that. Being homeschooled makes it hard to meet people, but lucky for you, you met me. I'll be your friend." She nudged his arm.

Michael looked away and brushed a few strands of blonde from his eyes. "I don't think I'd make a good friend. Not many people like me. That's why its just me and Miriam."

Perhaps this was like a charity case, but Coraline was determined to help Michael Langdon. She didn't exactly know why. There was a part of him that called out to her, and she wasn't sure if she should push that part away.

She reached out and placed her hand on top of his. No words needed to be said. She only kept her hand there for a split second, pulling away before he could interpret anything. However, he didn't do a thing; he simply sat there. Michael then grinned her way. Her gut told her stay away, but ... Coraline Avery was going to be a good person and win the title of prom queen in the process.

This was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Hopefully.

•••

A/N: Okay so I'm sO SORRY if this is so OOC for Michael (I think most of Act I might be OOC???) but he's just super complex so I'm always afraid of portraying him wrong :///

Anyways, there will be some uwu Soft™ uwu moments (only in Act I) and it might be OOC but it's honestly just how I portray him, I guess. Since episode 6, I think there is a strong form of vulnerability/humanity in Michael, especially when he was younger????? Idk fam, I'm trying my best here!!!!

I've discussed all my thoughts on this with luciangemini and they're all so complicated but I hope y'all think this portrayal is okay! In Act II (when Michael is older), things will be A LOT different and that's all I'm gonna say on that, shistars 🚬🗿

Anyways

I relate to this on a very emotional level