Chapter Text
He came back to the room even though he wasn’t sure why. He lost himself here. He lost someone here. He’d done this a couple of times before. Each time had hurt more than the last. But he kept coming anyway, as if he could gain forgiveness through remorse. But the people who could forgive him were gone. The only people who mattered were gone.
He closed his eyes for a moment. His heart beat had sped up and sounded like drums in his ears. This happened more times then he’d like to admit. A side effect of what happened to him - and the things he had done - was an overwhelming panic that made him wish his heart would stop beating all together. But it still beat and here he was, barely hanging on.
His eyes flashed open when the drumming in his ears didn’t stop. In fact, it got louder, more intense. It was like someone was drumming their life into the kit. He felt something stir in the back of his mind but he pushed it violently away. He was gaining control of the Yellow, although it didn’t matter much now.
He followed the noise down the hallway, peeking into open rooms as he walked past. The drumming seemed to be coming from the last room at the end of the corridor. He paused in the doorway. There seemed to be snow on the floor and he kicked at hit a little with his boot as the drumming stopped. The snow seemed real as far as he could tell.
“It was in you.”
A voice from right in front of him sent him stumbling back in fear. It came from a man with bright artificially red hair. His eyes were rimmed red from what could be tears. But the colour, stark in comparison to his pallid cheeks, seemed to have bled into the skin around his eyes. It was almost as if his eyes were bleeding.
“It was in you,” the man said again. When he spoke it became very obvious he had strange vein-blue lines creeping up his cheeks from his jaw. “It’s in him, too.”
“Are you - were you drumming before?”
The man with red hair turned around and walked away from the doorframe. The other man walked forward to see where he was going. He noticed a drum kit right at the back of the room. The snow was piled high back there, almost as high as the kick drum in some places.
The man with red hair sat down on the drum stool and stared blankly forward. “It’s in me.”
“What’s in you? Why are you here?”
The man with red hair didn’t respond. He just looked down at the sticks in his hands for a moment. Then, without warning, he started viciously drumming. It was so animalistic that the other man started backing away. He was filled with an extreme fear that made him want to run. A small part of him was glad he was feeling any emotion other than guilt and sadness.
He spun around to make a faster getaway when he was stopped by someone in the doorway.
"He’s gone,” the person said, pulling off their beanie and tossing it to the other man. “But we,” he took a step forward into the dim light. “Are here to stay.”