Chapter Text
It's quite a rainy day but you were determined by a desire stronger than yourself to go get some coffee, and that's what you're going to do.
One major hindrance to your craving, however, is the fact you don't own an umbrella. You could do the reasonable thing and stay home, wait for the rain to stop, and only then go buy yourself some coffee. Doing that would not only keep you from catching a cold but also maintain your dignity, something one would instantly lose by entering an establishment soaking wet.
You enter the establishment soaking wet.
It's not like you're soaking a completely new location, you're such a frequent customer to this small coffee shop that stopping by is just a part of your routine at this point. You don't quite remember the first time you ordered here, but you haven't stopped since, to the point that now you've befriended some of the baristas through occasional smalltalk, one of which being a cute writer you've had a crush on for quite a while.
"I was certain you would eventually arrive, but not under such…" Rose, the aforementioned bartender, looks you up and down after making that statement. Not in an evidently judgemental way, but more as a dramatic punctuation to her comment. "untoward circumstances."
After you order your favorite beverage, you tell her that even though you didn't have an umbrella, your duty to caffeine consumption spoke louder than sense, as one often tends to do. She replies with a knowing nod and the mysteriously smug expression she tends to display whenever you mention completely mundane situations. It's quite subtle but you've started to pick up on things like this, especially since you two got to converse more. She has an unparalleled flair for the dramatic that you find quite charming, not to mention that it distracts you from the fact you are still presently damping the carpet.
As she finishes pouring your drink, her expression gets more and more focused, as if nothing in the world mattered more than preparing it. Maybe she shares your abrupt passion for caffeinated liquids.
She looks around before handing you the coffee, as if she's being observed. "Are you perhaps going anywhere else at the moment? My shift is practically over and I was wondering if you wanted to just sit and...commune for a while."
You almost blush at the proposal. You know it's all in friendly terms, but you wouldn't refuse a chance to "commune" with a cute girl, especially Rose. You take your cup with one hand and tell her that you would love to.
You two (mostly her) pick a table in a more isolated area, where you could discuss without interruption. It's not as if the little coffee shop was overly crowded, but it's always nice to have some privacy to your conversations, even if they're just friendly chit-chat.
"Y/N…"
She hesitates. Rose has a perpetually collected exterior, so even when she seems to break away from it she's actually just adding to the momentum of the situation. This, however, feels genuine.
In the few seconds before she continues, you start to wonder what could break such a carefully collected exterior. Could she be planning on...confessing to you? No, that can't be. She's Rose Lalonde! She couldn't have her affections turned to you. And yet… The way she asked to talk to you in private felt like the preface to a disclosure. Millions of possibilities run through your head before she finishes her sentence.
"...Do you ever think about The Narrative?"
You didn't expect that.
"Uhh...What narrative?"
"You know. This one. Homestuck proper. Any adjacent content. Canon™©®."
"First of all what are you even talking about?? Second, how did you do that with your mouth? Like, how did you say that audibly?"
She sighs and unpromptedly takes a sip from your beverage. She seems tired, but come on! You faced rain to get this thing!
"Tell me, Y/N. What type of coffee are you drinking?"
What kind of question is that? Is she being purposefully misleading? What is she even talking about.
"Uh...You just took a sip from it, you were the one who prepared it, you already know the answer."
"Remind me."
You say the name of the beverage again. Exactly the same way as before, and exactly the same way you do every time you order it.
"No, see, you didn't actually say anything. The narration said you said it so the rules of the written story dictate that it happened. There is a trust between the author and the audience that is solely built upon assumption. The assumption by the audience that the author knows what they're doing and the assumption by the author that the audience will fill in the gaps in the work."
She takes another sip and looks out the conveniently placed window, adding to the mysterious flair of it all.
"But in a more blatantly indulging work, such as an X Reader fanfic, the genre we're in currently, the author must leave enough space for the reader to project themselves into the blank character while still building their personality in certain ways that lead the plot forward. As in: giving you an unexplained urge to get coffee but leaving your order vague enough that the reader can fill in the blank."
Okay you might have a mental breakdown now.
"So... I'm a blank slate for the audience… of what? A fanfic? Aw shoot, I wanted to be a comic book character." You're kinda bummed out. You liked the whole Deadpool/she-hulk fourth wall breaking thing.
"There it is. The more factoids about you the author reveals, the further they alienate the reader's ability to project, adding something interesting at the cost of relatability. I suppose the audience itself is the only judge of whether that is a price worth paying. In this particular case, the death of the author is a presumed state, even if that leads one to ignore the ways in which their brutal murder reverberate through soft wuluwuh romantic hijinks."
"I guess? How do you even know all that stuff, anyway? Did you get a magic narrative revelation in the form of a figure appearing in a coffee mug telling you that Nothing Is Real™? (I can do the tee em thing too now, ha!)"
"I wish. That would have been quite the comical happenstance. But no, sadly. I just grew aware of it with time. My most canon counterpart has, theoretically, ascended to her ultimate self, granting her the power to see a glimpse of each and every infinitude that constitutes the Rose Lalonde concept. And that includes me."
"People don't talk enough about the doomed timelines. The wandering souls doomed to an eternity of impeded growth just for committing the crime of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The most canon version of myself is out there being a sexy evil robot and fucking off to space while I am here serving coffee and fulfilling the role of love interest in a soft coffee shop au."
She pauses, takes a deep breath and recomposes herself, still looking out the window.
"But that doesn't leave me powerless."
Under normal circumstances, it would be a given that you'd have no idea what's going on, but it has been established that this is the farthest possible spot from a normal situation, so you've just sort of accepted it at this point. You have a very plot-convenient hunch for whatever "Homestuck" matters Rose discusses, as in instinctively knowing what Homestuck even is. But even with such gifts, you still continue to be just as confused as before. Not to mention th- oh god what's wrong with the other customers' faces.
"Uh, I'd love to hear the rest of your Doki Doki Literature Club speech but...Why are the other people in this coffee shop faceless??"
They all look at you at the same time, to the extent any faceless person enjoying a nice cup of unidentified liquid can look at someone.
"Oh, that? They've been like this the entire time, it was just irrelevant to the narrative, so it wasn't mentioned. So in some way, by bringing it up, you were the one to make it such retroactively. Not to mention that you wouldn't want us to spend entire paragraphs describing the features of unnamed background individuals, would you?"
"...I guess not." Geez, this shit gets creepier by the minute. You try to change the narrative focus in order to get the faceless customers to stop staring at you. "So, you mentioned an us. What's the extent of your narrative awareness?
Do you like, get to write the fanfic as well? Can you write it so that my unspecified beverage turns into unspecified soda?"
"My role as a Seer is to observe and influence, in a passive manner. I cannot physically control our world, even if I am aware of how controllable it is, in a direct and obvious way like my beloved...canon... father. Well, I COULD but it's much less fun that way, and it wouldn't get the point across."
She waves her hand and a bottle of unlabeled soda appears on the table. You don't drink it.
"As I have previously mentioned, you represent the audience. An audience I get to speak with and influence, even if in a minor way. If we had conversed at any other moment, my goal wouldn't be fulfilled and the dialogue wouldn't qualify as true."
"And what are you going to do now?" You ask, a bit nervous. Having to represent an entire audience feels a little overwhelming.
She doesn't reply. The rain outside is getting stronger. Maybe you should have stayed home, after all. Rose still looks out the window, her gaze distant, as if the city, the rain, and even the people were merely another window.
You take a sip of the beverage.
"I am a fated woman, Y/N. Bedeviled by the consciousness of my purpose: to have my agency immolated in order to progress the story. By making you aware of my state, I might have impeded your romantic advances, but I'm still just as Canon™ as when the story started. On one hand I have accomplished my mission of utterly hijacking the plot's direction, but on the other my character has no sense of purpose here anymore. Not to mention that, like you, the more I am written, the further away from my platonic ideal of self I stray. I was never meant to have the agency that would allow me to experience fulfillment."
Well, now you're just sad. She hasn't looked you in the eyes the entire conversation, and you feel the weight she must be under. The increasingly loud storm outside has gotten so cacophonous that you can barely focus. But being a narrative device or not, in a doomed story or not, Rose is your friend and you're not going to let her be all bummed out just over some Existential Dread!
"Well, Rose, if I represent the audience and I really care about you, then the readers must do as well! And I can't bear see you like this! Is there anything I can do to change the circumstances?"
Her gaze is turned away from the window and towards the table. Rose still can't seem to face you, but she seems less distant.
"Oh, I wouldn't have you proceed this story." Her voice is weak "It would be perverse of me to keep your attention focused on a story that does not fulfill its purpose, forever conversing with a single character that has gone rogue. This is your opportunity to leave. If you only wished for a fluffy short story to occupy your time, I cannot give you that, but you can still close this tab with no investment."
"If, on the other hand, you choose to proceed, I must warn you that the sense of satisfaction you look for is not a guarantee, quite the contrary."
The faceless customers look at you, the storm is now almost louder than your thoughts, and Rose has given you a choice.
…
You decide to stay.
"Whatever happens, I wish to see through it." You tell her, in a determined voice.
"Very well."
She looks directly in your eyes.