I've been wanting to write this fic ever since I walked out of a showing of ParaNorman. My god, I wrote hetero. Not to worry, I am in the process of writing more ParaNorman fic and I will mess up this record with some slash.
Norman grumbled under his breath, gritting pearly whites as a droplet of sweat dripped down his brow. A pale, lanky arm lazily reached up to swipe his forehead but he was so absorbed in the book he was reading that menial tasks were a pain and sweat continued to dribble down his face. He sighed, settling into the comfortable fortress of his bed sheets while balancing a flashlight with his free hand. It was around 1 A.M. and he knew his parents would nag him if he they found him tucked sloppily under the bed linen reading a dog-eared zombie novel, but for once he could care less.
Icy orbs squinted in anticipation as he began reading his favorite passage from the novel:
She flounced her blonde hair charismatically, trailing a gentle hand against her lover's pale complexion.
"Jonathan, I love you," the fair maiden crooned out gently, tenderly wrapping an arm around her boyfriend. She tucked her head into the crook of his neck, blue orbs gazing up at the tall, smoldering male.
"I love you, too, Melissa," came the firm reply in a voice suited to royalty. Jonathan raised a hand up to wipe sloppy black locks from his forehead, lips melting to a dissatisfied grimace as the hair flopped back into place. "I really do."
"What's wrong, my love?" The young woman straightened herself to look into Jonathan's mysterious grey eyes, catching a hint of sadness or regret.
"I can be with you no longer," he stated flatly, reaching to grip the palm of her hand in his own and squeezing with rough gentleness. "I am no longer one of your kind..."
"One of my kind?" Melissa looked shocked and confused, pink lips widening to a flabbergasted O shape. She wasn't sure she wanted to know what that meant.
"Yes," the handsome older man replied, gazing sadly at his lover before pecking her softly on the lips. She melted into what would be their final embrace, enjoying their last moment together. "For I am a zombie."
Face contorting in agony, Jonathan's pale, lovely skin began to crumble off of him like a sweet, grainy cake. He grew taller, thinner, and more horrifying by the second.
"It can't be!" The persistent blonde quipped, unable to come to grips with reality. "No, it's not possible!" She shook her head frantically, shivering from head to toe.
Leaning closer to the fair maiden, Jonathan's remains dragged a sloppy wet tongue over her frosty white complexion and she blushed out of anger and disgust before sharp teeth crunched into her skull.
The small boy let a satisfied sigh slip from his lips as they curved into a wan smile. He promptly shut the book and left it lying by his bedside, dogeared, floppy and drooping. He was done with his reading for the night. Norman snuggled into his comfortable bedsheets, welcoming the darkness around him. He could just barely hear the light snoring sounds of his other family members, including his (technically) dead grandmother.
Forcing his eyes shut, the youngest Babcock drifted off into a deep slumber.
After a while, Norman flickered into a seemingly endless void of darkness. He craned his neck around to find something to look at but there was nothing and he knit his thick eyebrows together worriedly. The dark-haired boy then found that one of his Converse was untied and he promptly reached down to give it a firm pull. As he looped the knot together he noticed wet, dewy grass sprout beneath his foot. He flinched back from his kneeling position and found himself very much soggy from the sudden appearance of firm ground around him.
"Whoa," he let out weakly, shoes rubbing against the mushy moist grass as a thick forestry began to unravel before his eyes. Trees, flowers, and small nettle-looking plants began to bloom out of thin air, and Norman found himself very much in shock at his current surroundings.
Brushing off the damp fabric of his jeans, the eleven year old got up and looked around him, trudging curiously through the thicket of trees. He noted a giant among the perennials and wondered why it looked so familiar. Running a concerned hand through stubbornly vertical hair, he eyed the king tree with wide eyes.
Breathing out slowly, Norman took a seat at the very front of the tree, running a hand gently over its thick, brownish roots. He seemed to feel the weight of the ages, thin and wispy in his caresses. An odd feeling of yearning ran through the young boy, and he wondered what it could possibly be. It had been months since the zombie occurrence at Blithe Hollow and he had peacefully laid those memories to rest.
Suddenly the paranormal youth felt a light brushing at his shoulder and he remembered, boy, did he remember.
A young girl, about his age, with dark cascading locks that framed her dainty complexion, leaned against his shoulder. She breathed slowly, calm and deep and restful. Norman could tell she was asleep but he felt his throat choke up as emotions he had shut off quickly swelled at his heart.
"Aggie," he called out, voice barely above a whisper. His tone was weak but tender. Norman chewed his lower lip, creasing his brow as Agatha merely breathed softly against him, burrowing herself further into the pleasant warmth.
He felt his cheeks burn red at the soft touch, all lanky limbs and awkwardness as he tried to shift away from the benign witch.
"Agatha," he tried again with her full name, lower lip shivering in the nervousness that he would never talk to her again, that she would just fade out of his grasp in a greenish haze like she had done so many months ago. His heart pounded hard at his ribcage.
He didn't have to look down because he felt her bright eyes twitch open to gaze up at him, felt her smiling weakly, the smile that started it all.
"Norman," she acknowledged in a light, content voice. Aggie sat up next to the anxiety-ridden male and let a small laugh escape from her lips as she wrapped her arms around the other in a hug. Norman could feel waves of pure emotion radiating from her embrace and it was all he could to to keep from bursting into tears in front of the girl he fancied. She shifted to burrow her head into the nape of his neck much like Melissa had done to Jonathan in his silly zombie novel, except she knew he wouldn't burst into a zombie-like state after the gesture.
Grinning, Agatha brought her head back up, pressing her cheek against Norman's playfully. The young male flushed beet red and shivered as her nose lightly grazed the side of his face. His palms felt clammy but he felt a genuine smile grace his lips for the first time in a long while and he played with a long, dark strand of Agatha's hair before the pleasant dream faded to oblivion.
He woke up in a daze as his sister let a sharp cry ring from her puffy pink lips.
"Oh my God, Sharon! I cannot believe he did that. No way." Norman groaned at the untimely interruption, flinging the covers off and letting his feet dangle from the bed. He could guess that Courtney was probably making exaggerated gestures while inspecting her new purple nail polish.
The blue-eyed boy got up to brush his teeth, leaving his bed a rumpled up mess. He drifted to the bathroom and swung the door open, reaching toward the sink to grip a tube of minty toothpaste. Applying more pressure than necessary to the plastic in his altered state, he spilled a bunch of the green gooey stuff all over the bathroom floor and sink. He grumbled under his breath, wiping the mess up with a rag and spreading the green all over white tiles.
He could care less.
Fluffing his hair up (like he needed help with that) and brushing pearly whites, Norman let an uncharacteristic grin spread across his face as he recalled the dream he'd just had.
The entire day he got weird looks from his family members, classmates, and even Alvin because of his odd, goofy expression.