Chapter 1: A Conversation Long Overdue | An Evening, Interrupted
Chapter Text
John Egbert sits in the bedroom of his childhood home, lying on top of the bed that's maybe a little bit too small for him, wearing the same oversized hoodie and baggy sweatpants that he had been wearing for six days in a row. He is procrastinating. He had promised Rose that he would message Roxy three days ago. Rose’s exact wording had been: “You know, the person you should really talk to regarding the topic you’re about to try to discuss with me, is Roxy” Which was a suitably Lalondian obfuscation of “Stop hiding from Roxy, John. Stop running from your problems and face them head on.” It was good advice.
Roxy Lalonde, for the record, has just finished cleaning up after a relaxing dinner with his adorable partner Calliope, and is about to settle down within his living room’s comfy couch to read a nice book. He's feeling content, happier than he's been in months. Maybe that's because he finally blocked Dirk's number on his phone, so he cant receive any more of his... "rhetoric". That's definitely at least part of it. The last person on his mind was John Egbert. That is, of course, until his phone vibrates in his back pocket. John Egbert, however, rarely takes good advice without putting up a fight. Or, these days, a mope, which he had successfully been doing up until about five minutes ago. The procrastinating was only succeeding in him more anxious, and he'd been trying to draft a message to Roxy--something long and meaningful, something that shows he's at least making an effort. He stares at his phone and deletes the long rambling draft he has been writing. Before he can change his mind, he sends them a short text.
JOHN: roxy?
JOHN: are you like, available to talk
ROXY: yea wats up
JOHN: i've just been....
JOHN: fuck, i dunno.
JOHN: thinking a lot.
JOHN: ever since you came out i've been feeling really weird?
ROXY: oh shit
ROXY: hang on can we continue this convo in like 5 mins i wasnt it expectin to b like
ROXY: uh
ROXY: abt this ig. i wanna give it my full attention
JOHN: oh! yeah sure take your time
ROXY: ty!! sorry johnbert, i promise thisll take like 5 mins.
|
John gulps, closing his eyes and tilting his head toward the ceiling of his childhood bedroom. He isn’t really sure where he plans on going with this. He feels weird. Roxy's coming out was sudden, and it had jostled something inside of him he couldn't put a finger on, in a way he couldn't possibly begin to describe. He'd been avoiding Roxy for weeks. Every time he saw her—wait, him, sorry—the... urgency? The fear? Whatever implacable, unknowable, terrifying emotion it was--it gripped him whenever he saw them. But avoiding Roxy hadn’t been helping, that feeling was just growing stronger. He just keeps feeling worse, and he doesn’t know why. He feels so... angry. The room is so empty. The gentle silence of the consort village feels, at this moment, anything but reassuring. The quiet hum of cicadas serves only to underscore how totally alone he finds himself in this moment. In the almost silence His phone buzzes. He hesitates a moment, gathering his thoughts, before finally reading Roxy's message. |
Roxy sighs, locking his phone. He really wasn't expecting John to message him, and, if he's being totally honest, he's not looking forward to the conversation. Calliope, who is lounging upside down on a sofa to his left, notices the deflated noise coming from their partner and furrows their bony brow. Roxy whispers a silent "im fine dw bb" to the cherub, then stands up. Hell, there's a chance John might even apologize? Roxy sighs again, remembering how he thought the same thing about Dirk and Jane. And that certainly wasn't how those conversations went. He steps out onto the balcony of the apartment. The cool breeze tousles his hair, and the muffled sound of the city below eases his mind a little. After a lifetime of growing up isolated, the nighttime bustle of the carapacian capital does wonders to put Roxy’s mind at ease. He flicks his finger against the phone, unlocking it, and sends John a message. |
ROXY: ok yo hey im here
ROXY: this sounds important, sup
JOHN: i don't really know.
JOHN: like i said, i've been feeling really really weird lately?
JOHN: and i hate it and i don't know why its happening.
JOHN: like, everyone else seems to be, well.
JOHN: really excited for you.
JOHN: well, some seem to be ironically supportive... or downright rude.
ROXY: ugh can we pls not talk about those two
ROXY: seriously i thought out of anyone janey would have been like excited r sumthing for me.
JOHN: i thought you said you didn't want to talk about them?
ROXY: rite sorry this is u time. shoot im listening
JOHN: right anyway,
JOHN: im sorry. i feel so selfish but...
JOHN: you know how i've been avoiding you for like three weeks?
ROXY: yeah dude i thought u were like, in the dirkjane traitor camp
ROXY: dave swore up and down that ud come around but
ROXY: i wasnt so sure
JOHN: yeah well, i was avoiding you for a reason roxy.
JOHN: seeing you out there.... being like, a guy?
JOHN: i don't understand why but it made me mad.
JOHN: i was so angry at you. not for like, whatever bullshit reason jane won't talk to you.
JOHN: i don't feel like? offended or scared of you ha ha ha.
JOHN: maybe it's more like, jealousy?
JOHN: but that doesn't make sense? it doesn't feel right.
JOHN: i feel like? annoyed?
JOHN: like, i don't know, you got to be a girl, why would you throw that way?
JOHN: i mean, i'm not trans gender or whatever.
ROXY: the word ur looking for is cisgender btw
JOHN: ok yeah whatever.
JOHN: i just...
JOHN: i would have killed to like...
JOHN: i don't want to sound inconsiderate because i definitely like, accept and respect your decision to, like, do this stuff.
JOHN: but,
JOHN: i can't understand why you're throwing it away?
JOHN: i can't understand why you wouldn't want...
JOHN: wouldn't want to...
ROXY: hey john?
ROXY: not to commandeer ur like, completely unnecessary judgement of my life choices 4 a moment r anything
ROXY: but have u considered like
ROXY: asking me why i decided to do this?
|
John falters mid-message. He hadn't, actually. It hadn't occurred to him to ask Roxy about something like that. He picks himself up off his bed and moves to exit his room. Something about having this conversation here feels wrong to him. For not the first time since arriving on Earth C, he feels like a stranger in his own house. He walks down the stairs to the first floor of his too large, too empty house and glances around, noticing how much of a mess it’s become in the seven years it’s been here. Dust covers every surface, coating the harlequins and jesters that decorate the house. Trash lies cluttered around a far-too-full bin, and clumps of dust and dirt gather at the corner of every room he passes. He promises himself, for what is probably not the first time, that tomorrow he will clean up the place. Stepping out into the quiet, still nighttime air, he takes a deep breath before closing the door behind him. He sits down on the stoop of his house, debating continuing the conversation when the phone in his back pocket staccato vibrates as about two dozen messages from Roxy flood his inbox. |
Roxy lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’s been holding. The sigh forms a faint cloud in the chilly evening weather. This is not at all the conversation he was expecting to have--especially not with John, of all people. From inside, the muffled sound of Calliope closing the front door of the apartment behind them reaches Roxy’s ears. He briefly wonders where they could be going at this time of night, but the conversation with John seems just a little more urgent to him. Roxy waits a second. John still hasn't responded, and for some reason that frustrates him. Maybe if John just listened for a second, he’d understand. Something about John's wording picks at Roxy’s mind. Roxy doesn't want to get his hopes up, but... maybe if he explains his own experience with gender, John will start to connect some dots. Roxy’s heart is beating heavily now as a sudden, unplaceable sense of urgency fills him. He begins tapping away at the phone. ROXY: ok so |
ROXY: all my life i felt out of place
ROXY: i grew up alone
ROXY: i mean yea i had the chess guys
ROXY: but their not exactly great conversation u kno
ROXY: i felt
ROXY: wrong, my whole fucking life
ROXY: u know that i like
ROXY: hit on dirk every day for like 2 years?
ROXY: i really didnt understand at the time
ROXY: i felt so like
ROXY: insanely stupid jealous of his moronic flat ass
ROXY: i didnt just want to fuck him
ROXY: tho that was def part of it lmao?
ROXY: i wanted to b him
ROXY: so badly it was all caught up in knots w how i felt about him as a person
ROXY: i hated myself
ROXY: wow, idk if i ever said that out loud before
ROXY: but i did
ROXY: n i guess i still sorta do
ROXY: i hate my stupid tits n my overwide fucking truck hips
ROXY: for a while i overcompensated for it or sumthing
ROXY: dont get me wrong I absolutely can and will still rock a skirt r dress
ROXY: and of course then the game happened n
ROXY: i sorta got distracted u kno
ROXY: havin like, some vague destiny purposey type thing helped distract from
ROXY: the crushin self hate i didnt even kno i was feelin
ROXY: and i always admired mom
ROXY: i felt like
JOHN: like if you got to meet her again things would make sense?
JOHN: is that right?
ROXY: ...
JOHN: like if you could have one little conversation you'd have some major epiphany about like, the right way to grow up?
JOHN: because you grew up wrong?
JOHN: because some where, in between all the dying again and again and spending three years with a sister you didn't even know you'd had and trying to make a new universe,
JOHN: you fucked up irreparably and can never fix it.
JOHN: and if maybe i could,
JOHN: like, if you had a chance to talk to him you'd figure out what you were doing wrong?
JOHN: like, maybe he'd tell you the secret to, how to wear a suit without feeling like an idiot buffoon.
ROXY: i dont think were talkin abt me n my mom anymore
JOHN: yeah sorry roxy god forbid i not make it about you for a second.
ROXY: yo wtf john
JOHN: just shut up a second?
JOHN: like seriously oh my god?!
JOHN: i am really mad right now and i don't really understand why?
JOHN: like i'm actually freaking out?
ROXY: ok yo do u need me to call like rose or someone to come see u? u sound like ur having a rough time?
JOHN: GOD NO SHUT UP I'M TRYING TO FIGURE THIS OUT?
JOHN: IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE!
JOHN: NONE OF IT MAKES ANY FUCKING SENSE.
JOHN: I DID IT ALL RIGHT!
JOHN: I SAVED THE TIMELINE!!
ROXY: john hey calm down
JOHN: I SAVED ALL MY FRIENDS!!
JOHN: HELL I SAVED ALL YOUR FRIENDS TOO!!
JOHN: WE'RE HERE ON EARTH C! WE'RE THE FUCKING GODS OF EARTH C!
JOHN: SO WHY DO I STILL HATE ME?
JOHN: AND WHY DO I FEEL JEALOUS OF YOU?
JOHN: I LOVED YOU ROXY?
ROXY: ok wtf is that supposed to mean?
|
Roxy shivers as the wind picks up, dropping the temperature by several degrees. He debates closing the phone and returning to his apartment. He doesn't need this right now. He thinks back to the brief, three-month period after Sburb where they had tried to make it work. He remembers how they broke it off—messily—and he remembers John shouting those same words the day they broke up. Roxy’s heart grows cold. Maybe he was too eager to believe that John was like him. Or maybe John wasn't intentionally being a piece of shit. Maybe he was being his usual oblivious, hurtful self. The same person that would ghost him for almost three whole months. The thought doesn’t make Roxy feel much better. His phone buzzes with John’s rebuttal, and he tries to not look. He tries to just put the phone in his back pocket and go inside. |
John’s breathing comes frantic and quick, and he finds himself breathlessly pacing in his driveway, typing furiously at his phone. A cold fear grips his heart as the conversation continues. Anxiety and anger and confusion swirl in him. He kicks off from the ground and shoots up into the sky. He can't remember the last time he flew, but hanging three hundred feet above his house and feeling his own weightlessness while the breeze around him gently tousles his hair, cozying up against him like an old friend--he feels calmer. He takes a look at the message he had just sent and frowns. Looking again, it makes him wince. For a miraculous instant, John finds himself graced with a rare modicum of self-awareness. The last message he sent looks... bad. He should probably apologize. |
JOHN: i'm sorry i know i sound like an ass hole right now but,
JOHN: i loved you so much i wanted to be you!
ROXY: u barely fucking knew
ROXY: hang on lmao ur not fucking w me r u
ROXY: bc
ROXY: this wud be a rlly shitty fucking time to start pranking again
JOHN: no god im not fucking pranking you.
JOHN: and to be honest that would be a pretty shitty prank.
ROXY: k ur right there. it wud be an astoundingly shitty joke lmao
JOHN: yeah, ha ha ha.
JOHN: i don't really remember why i stopped doing pranks.
JOHN: was i like, just in a hurry to grow up?
ROXY: john maybe we shld go back to what u were talkin abt before?
JOHN: what about me loving you? sorry roxy but that moment sort of passed when you decided to be a guy and i'm not gay.
ROXY: john omg i love u but sumtimes ur dumb as bricks
JOHN: what?
JOHN: oh are you talking about me saying i wanted to be you?
JOHN: i.
JOHN: that's different.
JOHN: no offense roxy but...
JOHN: im not.
JOHN: like you.
ROXY: just say the word john
JOHN: what, trans gender?
ROXY: technically nonbinary but thats not the point
JOHN: roxy i'm sorry i just don't see what that has to do with me feeling weird and... angry at you for no good reason.
ROXY: john can i just ask u a question straight up for a second?
ROXY: and can u just answer me like honestly?
ROXY: why r u mad at me?
JOHN: i...
ROXY: is it really that ur frustrated with me for... deciding to transition r whtevr
JOHN: no!
JOHN: well, not really.
JOHN: its just like...
JOHN: i don't understand why... i have to be the normal one?
JOHN: rose and kanaya look so happy together.
JOHN: and dave and karkat.
JOHN: and you and calliope.
JOHN: and i mean.
JOHN: hell roxy you look happier now than i've seen you since we beat sburb
JOHN: i'm not sure why i got stuck being the... i dunno. the normal one?
ROXY: john were u even listening to me earlier?
ROXY: thats not how this works
ROXY: can i ask u another question
JOHN: yeah? i guess?
ROXY: wud u rather b a girl?
JOHN: ...
JOHN: i mean.
JOHN: i don't know how to answer that question.
ROXY: omg its a simple y/n question
ROXY: swear on my hrt (lmao i meant heart but also my hrt too) im not pulling any strilondey mindgame tricks on u
ROXY: s just a question
JOHN: in that case, yeah? i guess?
ROXY: alright cool
ROXY: tht clears sum stuff up for me at least
JOHN: huh?
ROXY: no offence john but u have not exactly been the most considerate friend to me lately
ROXY: n even during this conversation u havent rlly apologized for it?
ROXY: i mean ur doin a lot of thinking i think abt some p tricky topics
ROXY: n i think im totes fr sure positive on the whole situation ur dealing with
ROXY: n i think i can help
ROXY: but an apology for bein kinda rude to me over the past few weeks wud be greatly appreciated
JOHN: i...
JOHN: you're right. i'm really sorry for being so rude to you recently,
JOHN: even during this talk i bet
ROXY: yea kinda
JOHN: shit, i'm sorry. i apologize for being terrible to you and avoiding you and not really listening to what you have to say, even during this conversation.
ROXY: hmm
JOHN: hmm?
ROXY: p weaksauce apology all things considered egbert but i forgive u
JOHN: ok?
ROXY: n for that apology u also get (for the additional price of free) access to all of my most wise n transgenderly insights.
JOHN: thanks, i guess??
JOHN: i don't really see how that will help me?
ROXY: john egbert ur so thick
JOHN: wow. now who's being rude?
ROXY: lmao fair fair srry bout that.
ROXY: i guess what im saying is
ROXY: isnt there just a tiny chance
ROXY: an itty bitty teensy chance
ROXY: that you might not b a guy?
JOHN: no?
JOHN: that doesn't make any sense i think i'd know if i secretly was a girl or something?!
JOHN: i mean that isn't how this works!
JOHN: you don't just get to decide you aren't a guy anymore?
ROXY: *raises eyebrow in a meaningful type way*
ROXY: (the meaningful way being the implication of the fact that i just went n did the same thing except backwards in case u didnt get it)
JOHN: yeah but you're trans.
JOHN: im not.
ROXY: ok then what makes u different from me?
ROXY: what makes u so sure ur cis?
JOHN: well... if i was trans gender i would know, right?
ROXY: i didnt kno til like a month n a half ago
JOHN: ok but like i would have done things in the past that were obviously trans
ROXY: like fall in love with a girl because u wanted to b her?
ROXY: like feeling rlly uncomfy when u started growing beardhair n resolve to shave it off evry day so u don't have to think abt it
JOHN: hey that one doesn't count! my father always taught me that a true gentleman keeps his face clean of any unsightly blemishes or facial hair.
ROXY: convenient excuse to not have to grapple w how much better u feel with ur face smooth
JOHN: roxy stop, i... i don't under stand why but this line of questioning is making me feel really weird and i don't like it.
JOHN: i'm feeling really stressed out actually.
ROXY: k fine lemme ask u another question
JOHN: i'm beginning to hate your questions, roxy.
ROXY: tough shit u started this conversation n now were in it for the long haul
ROXY: whats it take to b transgender?
JOHN: i... i dunno? don't you have to like feel trans gender or something?
ROXY: nah legit all u gotta want is to be different then who u are
ROXY: thats it
ROXY: lets say i somehow manage to use my voidy magics to conjure up a potion tht let u instantly turn into a girl n nobody wud remember that u were ever a boy
ROXY: wud u drink it?
JOHN: can you really do that?
ROXY: lmao no john its a hypothetical u dummy
JOHN: oh....
JOHN: well i mean, if it were real.
JOHN: it sure sounds nice.
ROXY: ye i wouldnt mind having one to get rid of my titties u kno
JOHN: wait.
JOHN: stop, hold on.
JOHN: sorry, roxy i feel like i’m having an anxiety attack?
ROXY: that doesn't surprise me at all rly lmao
ROXY: it seems to me like ur on the cusp of makin a pretty earthshattering revelation.
ROXY: the sorta one that kinda shatters everything u know about urself
ROXY: ive been there
JOHN: BUT I'M NOT LIKE YOU!
ROXY: rllly? how so? name the ways
ROXY: bc if its hard for u i can draft up a list of all the ways were exactly the same.
JOHN: I'M NOT TRANS!
JOHN: I’M NOT!
ROXY: hey john about 70 messages back u said outright that u would rather b a girl
ROXY: n about 120 messages ago i said that i rlly wanted to be a boy back when i thought i was a girl
JOHN: ...
ROXY: gender is bullshit john.
ROXY: it turns out u can just b a boy if u wanna
ROXY: or in ur case, u can just be a girl
JOHN: ... no?
ROXY: whos gonna tell us otherwise dude? we made this universe!
ROXY: we get to make the rules
ROXY: n if it means i have 2 b the god of gender bullshit to have the authority to declare that it doesnt exist
ROXY: well then just call me roxy lalonde, rogue of void n seer of gendery nonsense
ROXY: bc gender is fake john
ROXY: the only one stopping u from being the girl u always wanted to be
ROXY: is u
|
Roxy takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, savoring the break in the conversation. During the brief pause, he takes stock of his emotions. He hadn’t realized how worked up he was getting. It dawns on him that this has been the longest conversation with John he's had since... His phone pings, breaking him from his train of thought. He glances down and is relieved to see John signing off. Roxy sends out a quick reply, then closes his eyes again. ROXY: yw! get some good sleeps bud Behind him, Roxy hears the front door quietly open, and then shut. He keeps his eyes closed. The bedroom door shuts as well, slightly louder. He focuses on the sound of the streets below, the murmur of dersites going about their business, regardless of the time of day. A car horn in the distance. Music faintly drifting on the wind from a nightclub a few blocks over. He closes his eyes and places a hand over his beating heart, slowly regaining his composure. The conversation shook him more than he was willing to let himself admit. His head is full of questions, mostly concerning a person he had told himself several weeks ago that he would stop caring about. He inhales one more time, of the cool summer air before heading back inside to his apartment. The door to the bedroom is locked. Roxy frowns as he jostles the doorknob again, but sure enough, Calliope locked the door to the bedroom behind them. Are they okay? What happened when they went out? Roxy stops and takes a breath. There's no point stressing about this tonight. He can get answers in the morning. For tonight, he'll just sleep on the couch. It’s comfy enough, he thinks, lying down on it. He knows from experience that sometimes the cherub just needs some space... still, he can't help but worry--worry about Callie, worry about John, worry about people mistaking him for a girl. Recently, it feels like all he ever does is worry. His eyelids grow heavy in the darkened apartment, |
John touches down on the roof of his house, sneakers squeaking against the black roofing tiles. He reads the pink words on his phone screen again and again and again, trying desperately to process what they mean. He can't decide if the words inspire hope in him or threaten to drown him in fear. Maybe it’s both. The words seem to be trapped in his head now. They echo inside him and he suddenly feels very, very tired. This conversation is turning out to be a lot more intense than he was expecting. He needs to sleep. What time is it? Late, probably. He’s too tired, too frazzled, too... scared to continue this conversation right now. JOHN: hey, um, i have to go. He pauses, staring at his last message, and then adds JOHN: thank you.
|
and even as he drifts off to sleep on the couch, he knows, deep in his stomach, that he isn't going to be getting much rest tonight.
Chapter 2: Long Nights | Long Talks {Excerpt}
Summary:
An extended excerpt from Chapter 2, covering roughly the first third of the chapter. This Chapter will be updated as it is completed.
Notes:
Chapter Text
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This chapter is a draft and hasn't been posted yet! >John: DreamYou are running, at full sprint, your arms pumping rapidly as you careen full tilt around a corner, the landscape around you is a blur of indistinct color. You don't remember what's chasing you, but you know if you let it catch you, then everything will end. You round another indistinct corner and something makes you stop in your tracks, almost falling over as you skid to a halt. >John: Turn around. Slowly.You slowly turn around, and find the darkened passage behind you completely empty. This does not make you feel any safer. You turn back around, just as cautiously looking at Roxy. You start to wave frantically, trying to to get their attention. They look at you, an odd look crossing their face as they open their mouth to speak to you, their voice dying in the howling silence that rakes at your ears. You glance over your shoulder again, apprehensive that whatever monstrosity—horrorterror, demon, living nightmare—whatever was chasing you, would round that corner and descend upon you. Still nothing. You turn back to face Roxy, shouting over the deafening silence for them to run. That some awful thing is chasing you and that they need to run. Now. They tilt their head, as if they can't make out your words, you chance another furtive peek over your shoulder. Still nothing. You turn back around, and as your turn to face Roxy, the shadows close in around them, drawing in close. The fear and urgency to run comes rushing back. They smile at you. It looks evil in the shadow. And that's when you realize. You've been running from *them*. From the monster wearing their skin. They take a step towards you, still smiling. You try and move. To run, to turn tail and flee. You can't. You're frozen in your tracks. They step closer, slowly closing the gap between you. The silence screams in your ears and the dread that fills your soul threatens to drown you. The shadows that engulf your ex lick and caress at your arms, chest and cheeks. You flinch away from them. Roxy is inches from you now, their smile is soft, inviting, terrifying. They lean towards you and you shudder. They open their mouth and whisper a single phrase that cuts through the silence like a crack of thunder and chills you to your core "We're not so different, you and I" And then the floor beneath you vanishes and you fall, hundreds of miles into blackness. You fall and you fall and you fall, and the blackness becomes all consuming, and still you keep falling. After what feels like hours, the blackness around you gives way to something even worse: Nothing. >Where are you?Your name is John Egbert, and you float in an empty void of nothingness. Pure white surrounds you on all sides and you remember this feeling. You’re outside of canon again.
You don’t like being here. You don’t understand why you’re here. The last thing you remember was.... >Remember your conversation with Roxy. Oh, right. Falling asleep on your couch watching some brainless action flick. Does this mean you’re dreaming? You stumble around in the pitch white. There's nothing here. Not even the concept of nothingness. Just pure, destitute un-ness. A place without space or time or light or void or breath or blood or life or doom or hope or rage or heart or mind. A space that isn't even not. It fills you with fear. It preoccupies your mind, crushing at your very self and it drowns out everything. >Remember your conversation with Roxy.
You know! It's awful! But there's nothing else fucking here! You can't help but listen to the whispering thoughts you would usually drown out with music or sleep. You think about how long its been since you've dreamed. You remember the nightmares of your youth and dreambubbles of the game, but after that? You haven't dreamed in... years. Not like this. After you passed through that gate into your new universe, you stopped dreaming altogether. You'd almost forgotten about nightmares. You use to have them a lot as a kid. Jade always said that dreams meant things. But this doesn't seem to mean anything! Does it? Are you forgetting something, John Egbert, or are you just trying hard to not remember? >John: Remember your conversation with Roxy.It starts to come back to you. The conversation. And the anxiety. And the questions. The Big Question that reverberates through your mind as you desperately try and return to your dream. It's not use. It echoes through this empty space and burns into your very essence and screams out as you jolt upright. >John Egbert, are you transgender? |
In my dream, I see stars. Billions of em. And beneath all of them, near my feet is a familiar looking spiral, one that winds inward and downward on itself, folding itself closer and closer until it ought to collapse into a single point. It never does. I step onward, feeling myself spin down, smaller and smaller, far past the point where I should collapse into a black hole, the ambient pressure of the compressed space squeezing me on all sides. I take a moment to reflect. A few deep breaths. It's easier to breathe than usual. It takes me a moment to realize it's because my binder isn't on. I look down, expecting to see my own chest but... its flat. It's at this point that the passive awareness of my dreaming state becomes real, physical in a way that I’ve only felt during the game. It’s an awareness that almost shakes me out of my slumber but I manage to hold on. It's been years since I’ve had a dream. Or at least. Since I’ve had a dream like this, like the way dreams used to be, like when I was young. In my youth dreams had form, presence. I suppose that comes with having a dreamself. But then I died. The spiral starts to dip, and I know what's coming next. Calliope always sat at the center of the spiral, not far after this point. Those times she was hiding away, waiting patiently, for... something that I guess that turned out to be me. I can see the center of the spiral now, feel the weight of the collapsed space pressing in on all sides. It feels oppressive, authoritarian almost. Can conceptual spaces even carry feelings? I dunno, but it puts me on edge as I step into the gleaming center. Space itself unfolds in front of me, a prismatic lattice of fractal reflections uncoiling like a snake waking from a slumber. The coiling spirals of space retreat, bringing me face to face with... Calliope. But they're different than my callie. They’re clad in god robes I’ve never seen before, their mouth is set in a firm, cold line and they stare at me with hollow sockets where their eyes should be. Their whole presence emanates power. I know who this is. This is the other Calliope, the one who was supposed to kill Lord English or something. I really lost the plot there at the end. All of the Lord English stuff felt so secondary to our goal. They open their mouth, and I can't tell if its their ancient voice or their words that chill me to the bone.
(CALLIOPE): you need to be warned. It takes me a moment to respond, to gather my thoughts. This Calliope seems so different than mine, forceful and terse.
ROXY: they And just like that they vanish. I stand there in the center of the empty spiral for a moment, just trying to process everything i have been told, when suddenly that vanishes too. Like a rug pulled out from under me, the meeting space that the other Calliope had forced into existence bleeds away. The color drains first, leaking out from the edges of my vision, and as the color goes, so too do the forms, unspooling themselves as they twist back into acontextual nothingness. And then I am falling, falling through an off-white void and as I fall the space around me comes to life. the sky is filled with blots of color that seep into the void in a technicolor collage of light and energy. I see countless gigantic clockwork machines ticking in unison, scattered across the chromatic expanse. I see horrific fractal beasts with countless jabbering faces drift among the ruins of floating cities hewn from polished brass and chrome.
As I fall I see its head turn, its skeletal face reminding me, quite disconcertingly, of Calliope. It regards me with empty sockets. I feel minuscule under its gaze, whoever—whatever had made this mechanical angel had powers far beyond my own. It opens its mouth, and before it can say a single word, I wake up. |
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John’s eyes snap open, and he bolts upright, taking in his surroundings. Jake’s ass bounces alluringly on the television as a 1-800 number dances underneath it, matching the rhythm of his twerks. John squints from the harsh light of the television, rubbing his eyes with his palms as he stares blearily out at the dirty, empty living room, lit only by the rapidly flickering light from the television. A L O N E He’s alone again. Like he always is. Alone with nothing more than his thoughts. Alone in this empty house full of memories that are too painful to be nostalgic but too dear to be cast off. He takes a breath. The fear from the nightmare still rocks through his body as he fumbles for his glasses. Water. He needs to drink some water. that will help. His searching hands collide with his glasses, knocking them off the coffee table, sending them skittering across the floor. They come to a stop under the television. He groans, and shifts his body over, slowly pulling himself to his feet as he trudges over to his glasses. He stretches, hearing a crick in his back snap. Sleeping on the couch was a fucking mistake. He... He sits down on the ground, cross legged, just staring at them for a moment, before finally picking them up. The light from the TV glints off the smudged surface of the spectacles, reflecting his face in darkness. His eyes are red and blotchy, as if he had been crying all night, which... he’s fairly certain he hasn’t been? Or maybe he has. But. He would remember crying right? It’s been so long since he’s actually cried. Years, really. More than ten. He... he didn’t even cry when he found out his dad had died. He didn’t cry when Rose died... either time. He just... felt numb. He always feels so numb. It’s constant. It hurts. The numbness hurts so much more than any pain does. A scowl plays across his face as he looks at his own reflection. He focuses on the barest hint of stubble speckling his chin, his short, unkempt hair, the dark bags under his eyes. He looks like shit. A deep unease and disgust welling up within him. He tears his eyes away from his reflection and jams the glasses onto his face. He shakes his head, pulling his hands through his hair. He stands back up, a yawn contorting his face as he drags himself back to the couch. He feels exhausted. He can’t have slept for long. What time is it? He glances at his phone. 3 : 4 5 A M Oh. Okay. That’s fine. Who needs sleep anyway. He’s a god after all. His body probably doesn’t even need rest or anything. ....His body. ....body. ...ugh. He feels a pang of anxiety rush through him. He so often wishes that he could just evaporate into the wind and never return. The wind was formless and soft and free. He was... stuck. Just trapped in this form. Solid and Unchanging. Unchanging.... He rubs his hand across the stubble that, even with his fastidious shaving regimen, never failed to crop up from just under his skin if he so much as took a nap. Okay. Maybe the problem is this body really does change too much. It really would be better to be wind. At least he has control over the wind. If he was wind he could just... AUGH. Fuck Roxy for asking all of those questions. What even was the point of them? His head hurts so much! All of these thoughts swirling around is making it impossible to focus on anything! He has to be normal! He has to be just a regular person! He’s not trans!
Oh. Okay. What the fuck.
He has always been a stranger to the thoughts in his own head; to the body and house he lives in; and even to the world he created; but he's never felt quite so isolated in his own thoughts. His head isn't his own, his renegade brain is filled with questions planted there by someone he used to love, growing in his head like a weed. The kudzu of gender grows tirelessly up the walls of his mind. The groundskeepers have gone on strike, and the only thing he has left to fight the encroaching questions with is fire. He just wants to feel normal again. When did he last feel normal, anyway? Seven years ago? Nine years ago? Ten Years ago? More? Has he ever felt normal?
SHUT THE FUCK UP!!! John screams into the empty living room. His whole body trembles and shudders and the wind whips up in empathy of his outburst, sending the layers of dust and scattered trash whirling around the room in a flurry. He clutches his head in his hands. It feels like its about to split in two. He doubles over, collapsing onto the ground.
Fear. The wicked pain in his head coalesces into an unbridled fear that grips his very soul. He begins to hyperventilate. It's all too much. He doesn’t understand. Can’t he just pretend none of this happened? Can’t you just... delete Roxy’s messages from your phone? Can’t you just shove it all down? Put it in a box somewhere and just forget about it? You’ve done it before!! It should be easy! All you need to do is... >John: Calm DownYou take a deep breath and close your eyes. You're fine. >Be Fine.You open your eyes. It seems obvious at this point that you're absolutely too wired to get any sleep. That's clearly what all this is about. You just needed to calm down a little. Look at you! Look at how calm you are. Wow! You're feeling a little sleepy already. Look at how easy that was! You're all better now! Really!! And now it’s time to get some rest. And this couch is clearly not going to cut it. It's probably what gave you that weird nightmare in the first place! You snatch the phone from its place on coffee table and make your way to your room. But something stops you as you make your way down the upstairs hallway towards your bedroom. >Wait...The door to your father's room—or more accurately, the room modeled to look identical to your father's room in the REAL version of your childhood home, which you're pretty sure is still trapped in SBURB—stands ever so slightly ajar as you pass it in the hallway. Something about that barely open door fills you with fear. You’ve never opened that door. Not once in the seven years you’ve lived here on Earth C. So how is it open? >John: Ignore that doorThe panicked aching deep in your chest tells you with alarming certainty that something terrible lays on the other side of that damn door. You could just ignore it. you could totally just go back to bed. Fuck, maybe you're thirsty! Yeah! Just. Ignore the door and go get yourself a big glass of water. If there’s anything going on with that door you can just. Examine it tomorrow. There’s no rush. you can't shut this out forever. Shut up. You aren't even real anymore. I am. This is me, winning. You just get to stay locked up in that little box, where nobody even cares. Anyway where were you? Oh yeah. Water. You were going to get some water. >Do that. Go get water.You plod over to the upstairs bathroom. The room is a mess. A pile of used towels lay piled in a corner, slowly growing mold. The trashcan sits filled to the brim with refuse, and what doesn't fit lays scattered in a small pile around it. You don't care. You reach the sink, turn on the faucet and.... nothing. No water comes out of the faucet. Not even a drip. You hear the creaking of the plumbing. It almost sounds like something is trapped in there, the built up pressure differential slowly pushing the lodged object slowly up the pipe. If left alone the pressure in the system will only grow, rising higher and higher until, inevitably, it bursts. >John: Shut off the Faucet.You quickly shut off the faucet. Its fine! You can just get some water from the kitchen. Nothing to worry about! My hands are shaking. Even as I turn off the faucet I can feel them shake. As much as you try you cannot ignore our body. Nervous energy courses out our body in fits and spurts, shivers that bounce up and down my spine, following down to my hands. I keep them clenched at my sides. Even if I want to let them follow the energy building up in my body, I couldn’t. They stay tightly at my sides, trembling. I can’t move them. He won’t let them move. Shut up. Stop narrating. It’s stupid. Nobody cares. You make your way out of the bathroom, like a normal fucking human. All of this walking around isn’t really helping you feel any sleepier >John: Go downstairs to the kitchen.You do exactly that. You walk down the stairs, passing by all of the childhood pictures of you and your dad insisted he needed to take. You don’t pay them any mind. They make me feel weird. I’ve considered putting them away time and time again. There’s something about them that feels artificial. I just. SHUT UP!!! GOD. You move into the kitchen. It, like the rest of the house is in a state of disarray and neglect, in a way that most certainly does NOT reflect your current mental/emotional state. Sometimes a messy kitchen is just a messy kitchen. Sometimes the piles of dirty unwashed dishes are just some chores you’ve been neglecting. sometimes the piles of empty pizza boxes can just be fucking empty pizza boxes. They don’t have to lead to some massive revelation about the secret salt-whore attribute that definitively proves you’ve secretly been a tranny all along. You’re here to get a glass of water and that’s IT. No bullshit. No little voices in the back of your head. No uncertainty as to what that water might fucking signify. Its. Just. Water. >John: Get Water. This detour has already taken too long.You ruffle through the cabinets. You’re in luck. There's one last glass that hasn't already been used. A “World’s Best Dad” mug that you got your father on the last father’s day you ever spent with him... just a mug though right? definitely not anything to think about there. no reason to why i never use it. why i’ve been avoiding using it.
great That's not the point though. The point is that this is a vessel that holds water. Which you need. Because you’re clearly dehydrated.
Just gotta turn the faucet now.
The kitchen sink violently explodes. Scalding water sears every inch of John Egbert’s body. Shards of metal piping and cultlery, ceramic plates and glass rip through his exhausted form like shrapnel from a grenade. The mug in his hands shatters from the force of the explosion, lodging fragments deep in his chest and arms. A large chunk reading “Dad” embeds itself in his forehead as he is flung backwards from the explosion. He hits the wall hard, the back of his head splitting open with a sickening crunch that fills his ears. He falls to the ground in a slump, a smear of blood trailing up the wall behind him. He takes a single, shuddering breath, and then dies. ⦁ |
WEEKS IN THE PAST:
ROXY: hey dirk listen i know ur probably busy doing uh ROXY: yo hey ROXY: hey john Roxy groaned in frustration, tossing his phone across the room in anger. John fucking Egbert never failed to get on his nerves. Calliope’s head jolts up from their drawings as the phone clattered across the wood floor of the apartment. Roxy gave them an apologetic smile, as he raised himself up from his hunched seat in the armchair. His body shook as stood to his feet, he hadn’t really noticed the adrenaline coursing through his veins until that very moment. It sort of felt like he was having an out of body experience. His hands shook and his breaths came in short gasps and yet he felt like he was gliding across the floor towards the phone, weightlessly. He felt full of void. Like he was only half-there. His heart was pounding. He took a shaky breath, trying to steady himself as he snatched the phone off the ground. He glanced back over at Calliope, who was staring at him with a look of concern plastered across their bony features. Calliope hesitated a moment before speaking, concern for their partner overriding any fear they might have had that Roxy wanted to be left alone.
CALLIOPE: is it not going well? Roxy took another deep breath. He just needed to actually start the process. It was being in this awful liminal space that he couldn't stand. Between understanding who he wanted to be and having nobody else know it. He just had to tell someone. Anybody really. It wasn't finished yet. It was just a variable, it might be sitting in his header file, declared, ready for use. But his gender wasn't real, wasn't a part of him until it was written in the program itself, used by the rest of the code. He had to tell someone. Even if they didn't read it. Even if they couldn't read it. Just so that it was out there, an actual aspect of the world. Instantiated. He let out a quiet sigh as he settled back into to the armchair, unlocking his phone. He had an idea for who to text. It felt kind of selfish to text her like this but, he had to start somewhere. His thumb hesitated, hovering over the message app as he debated internally with himself. Was the first person he comes out to really going to be someone in a coma? His thumb landed on the app. Yeah. It looked like it was. ROXY: hey rose
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