Something has begun to whisper in the back of your head. Each day it grows louder. You feel the urge to tie an orange ribbon around your wrist. You check your snapchat frequently, waiting for updates. A copy of Con Air has appeared among the box of DVDs from the library. You dare not watch it. You open your backpack and discover a bottle of Faygo, unopened, at the bottom. You’re beginning to see those zodiac posts floating around again. The beast is awakening. Those shitty 3-D glasses are staring at you from the drawer you’d put them in. You stare back. Your heart is racing. The voice in the back of your head is loud enough to make out now. Something honks outside your window. The voice is not one, but dozens of voices, reawakened from their slumber. They whisper, and you feel sick. You can hear them, chanting over and over and over again: “4/13 is coming, 4/13 is coming”.
It’s tomorrow. You are terrified. Cal’s awful yaois are behind your eyelids when you blink. You begin to say it with them.
4/13 is coming. It’s tomorrow. Homestuck is awake. Brace yourselves.