Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"You really should've just asked for help immediately, you know." Knife said, dusting off stray curls off her shoulders. He sounded grouchy, but Suitcase knew better than to assume he actually was.

Suitcase grumbled under her breath as Knife snipped the scissors close to her ears. She was dreading the razor, but Knife shaved the sides of his own head, so he'd probably know how to not mess it up. He's currently busy evening out the length of the curls in the back - in Suitcase's defense, it's not like she could see or even reach back there. Not her fault it looked like a mess (his words, not hers).

It'd been a long night and she could feel her eyelids drooping, and the nervous (but mostly excited) tapping of her foot had turned into flexing and unflexing her toes in her slippers. 

"I know," she groaned, "But I hadn't exactly planned on cutting off my hair tonight."

He snickered as he cut off a particularly long curl. "Gender-crisis induced breakdowns are not usually planned."

The day hadn't even been anything special - same old boring routine as always. Hotel OJ was nice, don't get her wrong, but she felt a little cooped up. She didn't expect to miss the show, especially considering everything that went down on it, but waking up every morning with a purpose helped keep her mind off herself. Now she didn't have a lot to keep moving forward for, so she felt a bit stir crazy. 

She didn't even remember what set her off. One minute she was getting ready for bed, the next she was crying over a pile of curls in her bathroom sink with a concerned Knife knocking at her door. She had texted him at some point; some very concerning texts probably, considering that he only seemed half-awake as Suitcase launched into his arms. Must've been woken up by the notification and rushed out the door. She hoped he didn't wake Pickle up just because she was a mess.

They had talked for a while, Suitcase unable to stop herself from explaining everything to anyone willing to ask - how wrong her skin felt, how her clothes didn't sit right on her body, how her reflection didn't look like her. It had never bothered her in the past - she just assumed it was normal. That everyone felt nothing when looking at their face in the mirror, locking eyes with a stranger that they'd walked alongside their entire life. She had never felt joy over her appearance. It hadn't been an issue before, but something about the stress of the competition and the lack of safety from her family's comforting presence had slowly pent up frustration in her.

Today just... Happened to be the tipping point.

Once her tears had dried and she didn't have anything left to say (or rather, no more words to express herself with), Knife shared his own experiences.

She knew he was trans, it was never something he hid, never seemed ashamed of. It was a part of him, of his life and identity, and he was proud to be trans. He said that he had felt discomfort and dysphoria growing up, and that once he could form the words to describe it, his moms had helped him transition. Knife was very clear with the fact that his transness was his euphoria, not his dysphoria. Suitcase might be trans, she might not, she might be something else completely - it didn't matter as long as she was happy. 

"Baby steps," he told her, "One step at a time. Let's start with fixing that mess on your head, and then in the morning we'll talk more."

The scissors made a distinct clank! noise as Knife put them down next to the sink as he picked up the razor. Suitcase balled her fists, grabbing at the end of her sleeves as the oh-so-familiar dread crept into her bones. 

"Alright, I'll go as quickly as I can. You sure you don't have earplugs?" Knife murmured as he inspected the razor, making sure the settings were right and the blades were clean.

Suitcase shook her head (the lack of curls brushing against her neck made her heart beat a little bit faster). "I only have my headphones, and those would get in the way... Just be careful, okay? I'll, uh- I'll just pretend it's a really loud fan, or- or something."

Knife rolled his eyes. He clicked the power button twice, testing to make sure it was working before turning it off again. "Alright, if you say so. I'm not gonna do anything fancy, so don't come crying to me if you're not happy with it." 

She turned her head to look at him, locking eyes for a brief second. Despite his words, the crease between his brows gave away his otherwise concealed worry. "I trust you. I'm just scared. The sound of the razor, it's..." she trailed off, breaking eye contact in favor of staring at one of the corners in her bathroom. She didn’t know why it freaked her out so much, but she didn’t want to dwell on it either. Too many revelations for one night. 

Knife scoffed. "Whatever. Let me know if you need a break."

In lieu of a response, she turned her body back around in the chair and faced the wall. The harsh buzz of the razor made her tense up, but as it would turn out, her habit of spacing out during stressful situations was a blessing in disguise. Before she knew it, Knife was snapping his fingers in front of her face, standing slightly bent over in front of her.

"I asked where your broom was, space cadet." He brushed off some hair from his pants. 

"In the closet. Is it done? Can I look?" she asked, voice mostly composed. It was only a little bit wobbly.

"Nothing's stopping ya. I sure ain't. It's your hair." The floorboards creaked as he stepped out of the bathroom. He gave her a small smirk before disappearing further into her hotel-room-turned-apartment.

The chair screeched as she stood up, shutting her eyes. She took a deep breath - in through the nose, hold, out through the mouth, repeat. Anxiety pooled in her gut, its presence unwelcome but familiar. It's just hair, right? If she hates it, it'll just grow out. She turned towards the direction of her mirror, anticipation building as she scrunched up her face and took one last deep breath before opening her eyes.

In actuality, she only had a second or two to admire her new haircut before her vision blurred with unshed tears. Normally the off-white, almost yellow hue of her overhead lights in the bathroom bothered her, but right now? It illuminated the brown curls on her head in a way that reminded her of the aged and worn pictures her father kept of her as a baby in his wallet. She looked like a memory, from a time before she became a stranger. A memory from when time was easier - when she didn't have to form her own identity around the rules she'd been taught and the expectations placed upon her. She didn't know the (slightly wobbly, definitely blurry) Suitcase that stared back from in the mirror, but she wanted to. It felt like she was always meant to know her.

Sniffling, she slowly tilted her head around, trying to take in as much as she could. The haircut wasn't anything fancy; short on the sides, poofy on top. Knife had shaved the sides fairly close to her skin, but her curls made the fade between short to long look seamless. It was admittedly rough around the edges - some curls were too long and the sides were a bit uneven, but Suitcase wouldn't trade it for the world.

"... So?" Suitcase jumped at Knife's voice. He was sweeping silently by the doorway. 

Too tired to reach up and wipe away the tear that ran down her cheek, she just offered him a weak smile. "It's... It's perfect."

He hummed slightly, studying her face for a short moment. Suitcase sat back down, arms hanging by her sides. Letting the broom rest against the wall, Knife knelt down next to her and gently grabbed her elbow and wrist, guiding her arm up so she could feel the back of her head.

"Ideally you'd have a hand mirror for this, but since you don't keep necessities, you're just going to have to trust me," he grumbled and adjusted his grip so he was cupping the back of her hand instead of her wrist. "I shaved down your hairline on your neck a bit, made it more square. Not by a lot, but a little goes a long way." Suitcase felt the short hair under her fingertips, her heart beating in her ears. No more bobs, no more pigtails or ponytails, no more hairdressers refusing to cut her hair shorter than above her neck.

"Thank you," she whispered. Knife readjusted her arm so it laid in her lap. As he was grabbing to do the same with her other arm, she grabbed the sleeve of his hoodie lightly. She leaned forward and grabbed him as best she could, the awkward angle made it into a facsimile of a hug. He seemed to get the memo though, because he wrapped his arms around her and let her cry into his shoulder.

Eventually, though, Knife cleared his throat and pulled away. Suitcase blinked the tears from her eyes. His gray t-shirt had a wet stain; it vaguely resembled a turtle. He gently swiped away a stray tear from her cheek before reaching up and rustling her hair, eliciting a hey! from Suitcase, followed by silent, clearly exhausted giggling. 

"You should go back to bed," Knife muttered, letting Suitcase grab his arm as she stood up, slightly dizzy from the headache slowly making its presence known. 

"You too," Suitcase mumbled as they walked to the front door of the apartment. "Thank you again for everything. I... It means a lot, a lot more than I can express."

Knife waved his hand dismissively as he opened the door, stopping in the doorway to look back at Suitcase. "Don't mention it. Really, don't. If Salt and Pepper come screaming at me for a makeover, you’re hearing from me."

In lieu of an answer, Suitcase gave a small, shakey smile. Knife scanned her face for a moment before smiling back; slightly lopsided, more of a grin if anything.

"Goodnight, Suitcase."

"Goodnight," she exhaled as he closed the door after him, the light from the hallway fading into nothing. Sighing, she flopped down on her bed before rolling over and grabbing a pillow, settling in for a long night of dreamless, exhausted sleep. 

In the morning she would have to call her dads and talk everything through, and start facing... Whatever it was that happened tonight. But that was a problem for tomorrow’s Suitcase. For the first time in forever, she felt a little bit lighter as she closed her eyes.

Chapter Text

"Smile!"

Suitcase smiled nervously as the flash of Fan's digicam lit up the room. She'll never get used to having her photo taken, even though she’d already done (what felt like) a million different photoshoots prior to the show. The pictures were for marketing and press purposes, at least according to MePhone. Suitcase hadn't seen them used anywhere except for during voting, but she hadn't exactly gone looking for them.

"Beauuutiful!" Fan exclaimed, all while snapping three-four new pictures in rapid speed.

He's zipping around the homemade studio, consisting of a stool placed in front of a bedsheet nailed to the wall of Fan's bedroom. He had placed two floor lamps in front of her, one slightly to the left and one to the right, and then an extra one diagonally behind her. Suitcase didn't really understand the set up, but Fan assured her this was “ how the pros did it .”

She shifted on the wooden stool as Fan paused to scroll through the photo's he’d taken. A few days ago, Suitcase had asked Fan for help in taking new photos for her socials. She doesn't use any very actively, but thanks to being on TV she’d garnered a bit of a following. With her new looks (or rather, new haircut and clothing preferences), her profile is more than overdue for an update.

“I'm telling you Suitcase, I think I was a photographer in my last life. Masterpiece after masterpiece! Not that I mean to brag or anything, of course, but I cannot deny my prowess with the camera,” Fan bragged, clearly playing it up by puffing out his chest and flourishing his words with a silly wave of his non-occupied hand. It made Suitcase chuckle a little under her breath as Fan turned the camera around and showed her the portraits.

Most of the photos were similar; very standard photos, like the ones you take every year at school. The worn bedsheet behind her definitely added to that feeling.

Fan nodded and mumbled to himself as they scrolled through the camera wheel, only stopping to comment on any particularly good - or bad - photos, each picking out a few favorites. 

At the very end of the album there are a few pictures that Suitcase could only describe as cryptid-esque ; she was barely even a shape, seeing as most of the photos were so blurry and unclear that it looked like Fan fell when taking them.

“How did you even manage this?” Suitcase asked as Fan handed her the camera before he moved towards the lights.

“It's abstract! I was thinking outside the box - for shame, Suitcase,” Fan grunts out while attempting (and failing) to move the floor lamp closer to the wall. “Don't question a man's artistic integrity like that!”

“Wow. You're truly a visionary," She teases.

“I'm- I’m the new Picasso, or maybe the next Rembrandt.”

Suitcase put the camera down on the stool to free her hands so that she could help Fan push. “I don't think either of those were photographers…”

“I didn't know you were an art historian- OOH,” he cooed, and Suitcase imagined him as a pigeon for a second. It suited him. “That gives me an idea for a question!”

She sighed. In exchange for new photos, Suitcase had begrudgingly agreed to be interviewed for his blog. Not on Fan's Fantastic Features , of course. She's had enough of being in front of a camera crew (even if it would've only been Test Tube behind the camera and maybe another hotel resident somewhere else in the room). She vaguely recalled Fan complaining about FFF being canceled anyway.

“I don't have a favorite artist, if that's what you were going to ask. I also don't really know any famous photographers.”

They pushed the light all the way to the wall. Fan dusted off his hands before putting them on his hips, smiling at her. “Oh good, neither do I! We have so much in common.”

They stared at each other in silence for a second before they both devolved into giggling. 

“Okay, okay,” Fan waved his arms around, shaking his head while grinning. “I'm gonna go grab candles and stuff. A trick I learned from the journalism course I took back in my university days - if the interviewee is more relaxed, the answers will be more genuine! I swear that’s true, I would never lie!”

“Are you supposed to tell me that?” Suitcase raised an eyebrow. “Before the interview, that is. Wouldn’t me knowing ruin the whole point?”

“I don't know, I failed that course. And then I dropped out,” he shrugged as Suitcase giggled. “Anyway, you wanna go pop some popcorn and grab some cups? I've got soda!”

Suitcase nodded. “See you in 5?”

“Yeah! If I'm not back, just, y’know, let yourself back in. Paintbrush doesn't want me to lock the door anyway, so it should be fiiiine,” Fan closed the door behind himself and walked down the hallway towards the supply closet. Suitcase went the opposite way towards the kitchen.

It was definitely too small considering the amount of guests staying at the hotel. The general idea was that every resident got their own cupboard, but considering the limited amount of space, it actually boiled down to one shelf. That was fine by her - she didn't have any food restrictions or special equipment, but she knew some of the other contestants struggled with the system a lot. 

Soap, ever anxious about cross contamination, had to share a cupboard with YinYang. She complained about it at least once a week to OJ, usually loudly enough to be easily overheard.

Say what you will about OJ’s management skills, but Suitcase was grateful that he saved her a shelf on the bottom. It made everything so much easier. 

Opening the orange cupboard, she gently pushed aside the vast assortments of snacks (what? Everyone needs comfort food sometimes) and reached for the red and white bowl in the back. It was a bit tacky, considering the playing card print and cheap plastic, but her dad had bought it for her. She loved it, even if it was a little hideous. It was nonetheless the perfect bowl for popcorn. 

She grabbed a bag of microwave popcorn, closed the cupboard and placed the bag in one of the communal microwaves on the counters.

The kitchen was empty. She tapped her fingers against her forearm as she waited for the timer to tick down. There was some sort of commotion happening in the lobby, but Suitcase promptly ignored it. Considering the yelling and the high-pitched game noises, they were probably having another Smash Showdown tournament. 

She tried joining once, per Balloon's request, but she's just not that great at video games in general. Her hand-to-eye coordination was too poor and her fingers couldn't keep up the pace that was necessary to pull off all the combos. No thanks, she'd rather stick to her ‘loser games’, like Trophy once put it (even though Suitcase knows he plays farming sims too. She's seen him play them on the telly in the lobby when he thinks no one else is around.)

The microwave let out a loud ping! and Suitcase hurried to take the bag out, pinching it carefully at the very top to avoid burning her fingers. She shook the bag lightly before pulling it open, pouring into the bowl. She placed two plastic mugs on top of the popcorn and hurried out of the kitchen. 

The other residents at the hotel were like hawks; they hear a bag of snacks being opened, or the sound of a pop-top being snapped on a can of soda, or anything really, and they'll come out of the woodwork to ask for some. Maybe calling them hawks was inaccurate? They were more like cats at dinner time. 

She giggled to herself at the image of her fellow competitors screaming and jumping at the walls when they smell popcorn. Usually she wouldn't mind sharing, but today she just wanted the interview to be done with so she could worry about other things, so! No distractions allowed. Even if she felt a little guilty about avoiding her friends and acquaintances.

She huffed out a breath as she arrived at Fan's door once more. Pushing it open with her shoulder, she was relieved to see Fan back already. 

Quite frankly, Fan's ‘interview setup’ was kind of ominous. Fan was sitting on the ground, surrounded by pillows and candles lit all around him. He had even turned all the lights off. If it weren't for the dim illumination from his laptop and phone placed in front of him making the whole situation silly rather than foreboding, Suitcase probably would've walked right back out.

“Um, hi?” Suitcase shuffled inside, haphazardly balancing the bowl in one arm as she closed the door behind her, the light from the hall reduced to just the sliver that could fit between the wood and the carpet. “Is- is this your definition of a relaxed atmosphere?” 

“... Yes!” Fan grinned, and patted the spot next to him. “Okay, so maybe I went a little bit overboard, but can you blame me? I'm getting into the Halloween spirit!”

“It's September,” Suitcase sat down criss-cross on her designated spot, placing the bowl in front of her as Fan grabbed the glasses to start filling them up with Dr Fizz. 

“Yeah, well, maybe Nickel is getting to me. He's already hyping up this year's Halloween party.”

Suitcase frowned a little as Fan passed one of the glasses to her, peering down and watching the soda fizzle as she swirled it around like someone trying to aerate wine. “Ugh, I hope he's nicer this year. Like- really? He thought I wouldn't notice that he pinned a mask to the back of his head so he could pretend he was listening to me? Like, geez, way to make me feel included.”

“I know, I know,” Fan placed his hand on her back and nodded in sympathy. “A real douche move, but hey, this year you've had time to get to know more people. What with the show being over and all. You're an official Hotel OJ Resident now!” 

“Yeah, you're- you're right,” She smiled softly at him before nodding towards his laptop. “So, how are we doing this?”

Fan placed down his glass on the ground by his leg and grabbed his laptop, quickly tapping through tabs until he found a mostly blank document titled Blog Interviews - COME UP W A BETTER NAME!!!  

“I almost forgot! If I'm being completely honest, Suitcase, I don't have much planned. I was just gonna kinda wing it. But, uh, hey, this is a new series, right? There's endless possibilities, unexplored!”

“Sure! I don't think I've ever been interviewed by anyone, so I'm going to trust you to do… Whatever it is, interviewers do.”

Fan shot her a thumbs up, before reaching for his phone. His finger hovered over the start recording button, and he looked to Suitcase for confirmation. As soon as she gave the clear, he started the recording.

“Hello, loyal fans and readers!” Fan started, projecting his voice a little bit more than usual. “Welcome to my new series - title-to-be-determined - where we catch up with our favorite contestants! Was that intro good? I- I feel like it wasn't, but I can always rewrite it in post, journalistic integrity be damned. Anyway, please give a warm welcome to our first ever guest, finalist and fan favorite, Suitcase!”

“Hi, everyone,” she waved even though nobody would see it. “It’s um, nice to see you…?”

Fan grinned in response to her and shrugged. “Something like that. So, Suitcase, I'm dying to know, and I'm sure everyone else is too. What have you been up to since Inanimate Insanity concluded?”

“Well,” she laughed a little, “Not much, if I’m being completely honest. The finale took a big toll on me, I think, so time has just kind of… Slipped by me.” 

Fan nodded his head sagely. “I think I can speak for the rest of us contestants - and fans - that we’ve had similar experiences. It’s like time stands still here at Hotel OJ. But! You’ve done a lot here at the hotel, right?”

“Um, yeah! Lightbulb and I started board game nights, but we really play anything that's a physical game. Turns out a lot of residents like board games…? It- it makes sense, we’re all a bit competitive by nature, or else we wouldn’t be here to begin with.”

“They’re lots of fun, except for when Lightbulb starts eating the pieces,” Fan muttered the last part under his breath, before clearing his throat. “Now, I already know about this of course, but for our readers sake, is it true that you’ve been banned from planning poker nights?”

Suitcase reached for the nape of her neck. Usually she would pull on the back of her hair nervously, but she couldn’t do that anymore. She pulled at her sleeve instead. 

“It’s true,” she grinned sheepishly. “People always underestimate me, but I’m really good at poker. I, uh, got banned because Trophy accused me of cheating because I kept beating him and, you know, taking his chips?”

“Did you cheat?”

“God, no,” She shook her head, an incredulous look on her face as Fan laughed. “I would never! I know how to, but I would never actually cheat. That’s disrespecting the game!”

“You’ll have to teach me how to play properly some time. Curse me and my expressive face, always wearing my hearts on my sleeve!” Fan draped his hand over his forehead dramatically. “Now, I’m sure you’ve already gotten asked about this a lot , but you’ve recently changed your appearance pretty drastically. What spurred this personal transformation of sorts?”

Suitcase hummed a bit, metaphorically chewing on the question. There was… A lot to unpack, a lot she hadn’t begun to unpack herself. How would she even begin to explain any of it, especially when she didn’t know the answer? 

Fan, probably sensing her apprehension, reached down and paused the recording. “You don’t have to answer, we can move on to the next question if you want!”

“No, it’s just-” Suitcase bit the inside of her cheek. “I don’t know if I even could explain it? It’s like- it’s like my perception of myself has shifted and I don’t know how much has always been there and how much is new, or…” she trailed off, feeling unsure of herself. Was this even hers to talk about? It… It didn’t feel like it was, even though it was her identity and her experiences. 

“We’ve all been there, or, well, not everyone , but I… I know what you’re talking about,” Fan turned to face the wall, his expression solemn. “You know I’m not- not good at these things, at expressing myself, but… Back when I was younger, it felt like I needed to cling onto things and define myself through them, because without them, I was… Nothing.”

“Like the show?” Suitcase wrung her hands together, staring at the flame of one of the purple candles in front of her. It flexed and wobbled with her breath, but it stayed lit.

“The show was definitely the biggest one, yeah,” Fan shuffled on the spot. “It was… Easier, in a sense, to let other things define me, to follow along with the role I was given, even if it was self-assigned for a long time. I- I mean, it was my entire identity! To the point where MePhone gave me the nickname Fan! ” 

Suitcase furrowed her brow a little at the mention of MePhone. “Yeah. He wasn’t joking when he said we were the new stereotypes .”

“Not one bit!” He nodded in agreement. “But, what I’m trying to get at, is that once I got eliminated, both times, but mainly after the first one I had to rebuild myself a little. The- the allure of the show isn’t gone, and it’s still my defining characteristic, but I am more than that now - I chose to be more than that. For my own sake, and for Test Tube and Bot. It’s hard, but you get to choose who you are. You just need to listen to your heart.”

“Before the show it felt like my path was laid out for me, like I knew who I was supposed to be…” Suitcase stared at her fingers in the dark, turning her hand over to poke at the remains of the black nail polish Balloon had painted the week prior. “But the show changed that. I changed, faster than I was comfortable with. It’s not a bad change, but…”

“It’s scary,” Fan gave her a small smile and put his hand on the ground in the empty space between them, palm facing upward.

“It is,” She put her hand in his and gave it a quick squeeze as Fan turned to stare forwards again. “I’ve never felt in control of my own appearance or- or who I was . It always felt like I was in a play, if that makes sense? Just… A set of rules I had to follow and lines I had to say, but I had to improvise and stumble through it while everyone else got to practice beforehand. It was just easier to play along with the role I was given instead of questioning, well, anything.” 

“Yeah, I know that feeling.” Fan chuckled to himself, devoid of humor. 

Suitcase hummed in acknowledgement before continuing. “I guess I’ve just been ignoring who I want to be my entire life and just going along with everyone else's expectations of who I’m supposed to be. But the dam broke and now I have all these feelings that are so- so new and I don’t know how to put them into words, but… I think I’m getting closer to feeling like I know who I am.”

Fan opened his mouth to respond but was promptly interrupted by the door opening, flooding the room with light. Both of them recoiled at the sudden brightness, Fan letting go of Suitcase's hand to shield his eyes.

“Hey, Fan- what. Am I interrupting something?”

Suitcase blinked her eyes a few times before turning towards the voice, still squinting against the light. Paintbrush stood in the doorway, holding a brown paper bag in one arm and a tote bag dangling from their shoulder. They looked confused, their free hand hovering over the light switch next to the door.

“Are you two performing a seance?” They flicked the lights on, causing Fan to let out an annoyed groan. “What’s with all the candles? Also, hi, Suitcase.”

“Um, hi,” She waved to them as they walked over to drop the tote bag next to Fan, who was currently busy blowing out the candles while pouting, clearly peeved at their arrival.

They smiled at Suitcase before turning to address Fan again. “I got you that add-on for that board game you keep talking about. Seriously though, am I interrupting something?”

Fan gasped and dug his hands into the tote bag, pulling out a black box with a woman looking determined plastered across it. He hugged the box close to his chest, grinning. "Yes, you are! BUT! I forgive you! Suitcase, are you okay with finishing up the interview some other day?”

“Yeah,” She sighed, her shoulders dropping a little. Honestly, she had kind of forgotten that they were in the middle of an interview. “Thank you for listening, though.”

“Anytime! Paintbrush, are you joining us?” 

Paintbrush, who had wandered away from the duo to unpack the other bag’s contents on their bed, snapped their head up towards them. “Uh, sure, I don’t really have anything better to do. Isn’t that a solo game, though? It said so on the box.”

“It is, but with the expansions you can play with more people! In fact…” 

Fan continued rambling on, explaining the rules and the characters with great enthusiasm (maybe too much enthusiasm, as Suitcase wasn’t really keeping up with all the rapid-pace information he was giving them) as the trio went about setting up the game.

Suitcase smiled to herself as she picked up a piece, listening as Fan explained the characters' backstories. Maybe figuring out who you are isn’t so hard when people are willing to listen.