Work Text:
ᏆhᎥᏒᎠ
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Dropping to his knees, Tim clasps his hands over his mouth. No matter what did the blood seeped between his fingers. Onto the floor, on his clothes and staining almost everything.
While he didn't have seizures anymore, no hallucinations to terrify him, the coughing spasms never ended. Medication no longer seemed to suppress any of it.
Spitting onto the wood floor, he cringed.
Tim couldn't even get to his feet before he fell forward, collapsing, passing out for a good hour.
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His eyes finally flick open, cheek pressed flat against the floor. And in something wet. Disgusting.
Lifting his head and taking in the surroundings he realized the place. It looked familiar enough. This was his room, right?
Tim finally sat up, wiping the blood-saliva mixture off his face. He looked at it in disgust.
At last he gets to his feet, stumbling and nearly falling back down. Like his legs were made of gelatin. Or one of his legs were injured.
Using the wall behind him, he supports himself and stands up straight. Well, as straight as he can be.
His mind is foggy and his eyes feel heavy like he hasn't slept in forever.
Blinking it all away, he shakes his head and groaned.
By the way he was acting, this definitely wasn't Tim. But in fact his infamous split personality; Masky, the masked figure, masked man. Whatever name he went by, he was well known by all.
More like 1.9 million people, but "all" works just as well.
It's like he hadn't walked in ages. Or he's a toddler walking for the first time. Does he step forward with his right foot or left?
Minutes pass and he huffs. Fuck it, walk with either foot first. It didn't matter in the grand scheme of things.
Grasping onto the desk with both hands, he makes his way to a bathroom. There should be a towel there to sop the blood up. Right?
Doing just that, he dropped the towel on the splotch of blood on the ground. Whatever was still wet was quickly absorbed. The rest would be scrubbed away another time.
What else was there to do? Why was he out? Nothing important was going on. Not that Tim nor 'Masky' knew of.
He could go look for something else to do. Actually get an interest for once. Find stuff he liked to do!
So, he walked out of the room, finally trusting his legs to let him walk farther.
What to do…what to do. Going outside? Yeah, that sounded like a good idea. The forest was calm and he could take a walk.
Well, it was a good idea until he heard a loud bang. Something crashed against a nearby window. Jumping backwards, he hit a wall and grunted. A tree had fallen and rain was heavy, creating puddles on the all dirt ground. There's a violent thunderstorm.
Okay, so maybe not. He could walk in the woods another time.
Deciding to walk back to the room, he turns on his feet.
That was a good idea too until he felt someone smack into his chest and fell backward. The small "oof" following made him raise an eyebrow. Why don't people watch where they're going nowadays?
He stood there, crossing his arms as the other man laid on the floor, barely sitting up. He was angrily mumbling.
"A-and— oh hi Tim!" okay, but who are you?
Tim knows this boy- younger man- grey person. Though, Masky doesn't.
Instead of greeting him, he watched the other with great curiosity. Who was he???
Pale skin, hazel eyes, brown hair. They've met before. Definitely.
"Tiiim," He ignored the voice, continuing to ponder.
"Tim, T-tah-tim! Timtim!" looking at the other, he raised an eyebrow. The hazel eyed person started talking about stuff.
Keeping quiet and staring at him, 'Masky' took in his features. Nothing yet something.
Eventually he gave up and replaced the name with a nickname. The nickname derived from the boys hair color.
"Chestnut," the simple word cuts off Toby's rant. Looking up at who he believes is Tim, his eyes are wide.
"W-wan-n-nt-t a chestn-nnnut?" He asked. Chestnut boy asked.
In reply, he shakes his head.
Another name coming from the others appearance.
"Fluffball."
It takes a moment before at last, the brown haired man realized. Oh, he was calling him that.
"M-me?" he points to himself. Masky nods and crouched down, moving closer to the "chestnut boy".
Of course he has to ask, "W-why a-are you acting like th-th-" he blew a raspberry and continued, "that?"
Confused, Masky, or Tim, tilts his head. Acting how?
"Your f-face is weird." he comments, poking the other man in the cheek.
How was he able to see his face?!
Neither say a word and they look at eachother. The smile on his face clearly showed that he was more happy than confused now.
As a finger hits his cheek, Masky flinched. Almost. That's why. He didn't have the mask. Of all things, how could he forget it?
He looked rather angry since the boy touched his- or Tim's face.
Pushing him backwards, he fell, forcing himself to sit and cross his legs.
Another question from the "mysterious" boy, "Why aren't you talking?"
Well, Tim wasn't that talkative and neither was he. Clearly.
Still, for the sake of whoever this person was he tries to speak.
"Not Tim," nice going, Masky.
There's a look of pure confusion on the hazel eyed boys face.
"Th-then wh-whoo? W-wait! Do you know who I a-am?"
He shakes his head at the question, ignoring the first one.
Even if he was confused as hell, he'd still introduce himself to Not Tim.
"I-i'm- uh-" it's not long before he remembered his name, "T-toby."
"Chestnut," Masky said as if he was correcting him.
"N-no—"
"Fluffball."
Toby whined but didn't say much. He could live with those nicknames. They weren't bad.
At last there's a smile on Tims face. His tired eyes looked just a little happier now. Toby smiled back, accepting the names given by the mysterious other person.