Chapter Text
You weren't sure what to expect when you resurfaced, but you knew you couldn't fester a moment longer. Death doesn't come naturally to a being like yourself. You can take any beating, have your eyes ripped from your sockets, and yet your Heart beats on. So you resolve to resurface.
Was it always this quiet? The only living things around here are you and... them. No sounds can be heard in the snow, save for the beating in your ears. Your hands sink into the powder. Your fingers burn with cold as you pull yourself out of the pit. Your pit.
It was always your pit. How long has it been since...? It's not like time ever had any meaning here, but you'd still like to know how long you lay there. You'd still like to know long you've been blind.
Let's take it from the top.
---
You find yourself at the start of a new loop. Every time you find yourself here, it's a little colder. Wasn't it green and blue here once? How come time only passes in here when the you that you are falls away? Why does He get to experience time, and not you three? This isn't a new thought, but being at the start of the loop causes the bile to rise again. You steady yourself against a now-dead oak as you retch.
You wipe the remaining bitterness from your mouth as you turn your gaze to the sky. It's a dull grey, cloudless. It's deep and dark and eternally high. But no one's asking you about the sky, are they? You allow yourself a moment to laugh. It's not even that funny of a joke anymore, is it? How many times can you sing this song? People weren't listening the first time you played it, and they certainly aren't listening now on the thousandth go-around.
Whatever. You have more important things to focus on. Namely, Mind and Soul. Every loop it seems this place gets a little larger. Who knows where they ended up, all that matters is your battle plan. You are at war, after all.
Strategy isn't something that comes naturally to you. Ideally, you'd be playing support to the strategist, but... the thought of that sickens you. You're done playing second fiddle. So you lean against the tree, close your eyes, and think.
You could return to the house. Soul's probably already there, perhaps you can persuade him to take a side? Unlikely. You only have scraps of His memories, but you're fairly certain that some form of lust caused this latest split. Why are you always held responsible for His faults? You didn't cause the loop to start again. You're just the punching bag for the other two as they try to pretend like a life of isolation and abhorrent discipline is somehow a life worth living.
That's how it always goes, isn't it? When does Whole ever appreciate the fact that He gets to be human? Why is it that any time He starts feeling any strong emotion, He curses his Heart and vows to live a "purer" life? He's gone through all that effort to get a prescription, but He doesn't fucking listen, does He? Pills only go so far, but you can't build a Harmonious triad without actually re-tuning. He's such a dumbass. And so are you. You're wasting time.
Well, you know what you mean. You're wasting whatever substitute for time it is you experience here. The last thing you want right now is a direct confrontation, but you have no idea where that bumbling dragon is. What to do, what to do...
He's coldblooded. There's no way he's wasting energy out here looking for you. Maybe if it were still Spring, you'd have trouble, but now the weather's on your side. You shiver, but a smile creeps across your face as you get an idea.
What if you don't go back?
---
The Sun's starting to set. You stop your trudge through the snow for a moment and turn around. In the far distance, you see a dim light coming from the house. Soul's watching you. You can feel it. If he wanted you inside, he would have come and gotten you by now. Maybe he's curious? Maybe he's apathetic? Probably the latter.
Mind's probably in there too, thawing out his wings. You try not to think about that. You don't want to think about how cold it is for you. How much colder it must be for him. You try not to think about how much you want to help him.
Tears freeze to your cheeks. You turn around again and keep walking. Overhead, your namesake keeps watch over you, Mister Moon.
---
Night and Day pass, and pass, and pass. How far does this void go? The house is long since gone, and you find yourself completely numb. You've tried to stop and sleep four times now, but it's too cold for that. All that you have are your ideations and the drive to keep distancing yourself.
The further out you go, the forest density decreases. You can't really call it a forest anymore, it's just an endless flat terrain with the occasional dead tree. The wind's stronger out here, without anything to block it. The past few miles you've been completely blinded by the kicked-up powder, but it's not like you're missing much.
You take another step.
You take another step.
You take another step, and the ground does not rise to meet you. You're sliding down some slope you've never seen before. You're fully awake now, and you try to dig your limbs into the ground to slow your descent. The ground does not yield to you. Everything else here is endless, but you scream out a wordless prayer that something lies at the bottom of the plateau you were apparently on.
---
You awake on flat terrain again with a throbbing headache. You look up at the cliff and see a trail of magenta leading to where you are now, connecting you to the rock you crashed into. You inhale, then exhale, then take inventory. This isn't the first time you've found yourself in miserable conditions. Part of you wonders if it's even possible for you to die of blunt force trauma, given how you keep waking up from these sorts of injuries.
Your clothes are mostly intact, and it seems the gash on your head has already scabbed over. You must have been out for a while. Would the loop have ended if you didn't wake up? At this point, everyone's threatened to kill everyone once, but as far as you know, no one's actually followed through. You just maim each other into submission, and then the loop ends.
As far as you know, none of you can actually die. Only Whole can die. He's the only one who's actually subject to reality. The rest of you are just thoughts flickering behind his eyes. This is, of course, an untestable hypothesis, and you are stuck at the bottom of a cliff.
At least the wind has died down. You force yourself to sit up. Behind you is the cliff, above is the forest, but down here is... nothing. There are no landmarks. There are no trees. It's painfully bright from the snow's albedo. You shield your eyes and try to think of what comes next. You can't scale that slope. It's at least twenty meters, and the cold saps whatever energy you had. You wish that you could die, but the others have beaten into you that idle wishing does nothing. They'll never find you down here.
In Spring, this is probably a meadow. You try to visualize it, but the only colors you remember are that of the sky and of your blood.
Time only passes when Whole moves on. You will never see the Spring again.
Isn't this what you wanted? You chose to run away. And the others let you go. What are those two doing anyways? They're both too prickly to be socializing with one another, but they've been sitting in that house for... how long has it been? A week? A month? You have no idea.
You have no ideas at all now, except for how to warm up.
You get to your feet and start walking again.
---
The Sun is blinding, but you continue. All you hear is your own footsteps, your infernal rhythm, and -
Something else. You hear... waves? You strain to open your eyes. In the distance is an ocean. Excitement and curiosity swell in you.
As you approach, the thought that you've finally lost your senses hits you. You reach the beach, and realize that it doesn't matter. You aren't really a man to begin with, so who cares if you've lost touch with "reality"?
You remove your shoes and run out into the water. The waves rush out to greet you, and it's unnaturally warm. You look out and embrace the nonsensical nature of your existence for a moment. You're safe. You're alive.
Then the saltwater stings your blistered, bloody feet. You return to the beach and sit to watch the tide come in.
(Maybe this is where I spend eternity?)
You watch the light dance on the water for as long as you can. Then, sleep takes you.
---
You shake sand from your hair as you sit up again. Your whole body aches from the trek here, but you feel well rested for the first time since the loop started. Hell, that's the first time you feel well rested since... you can't remember when.
There's still Daylight. You wouldn't be surprised if you slept through a whole day. You look out to the ocean again. The tide's gone out, which, due to the unnaturally flat terrain of this headspace, means that the water is now some hundred meters away.
Is this a Planet you're on? What lies beyond that ocean? The Moon and Sun follow their usual cycles, but... how? Are they actually orbiting this Earth, or is it just pretend? Trying to play out roles that only really exist in reality? You quickly discard this thought as you notice something between you and the ocean. A black speck on the horizon stands out.
As you approach, you realize it's some sort of box. A jewelry box? It's made of a lacquered dark wood you don't recognize, but it looks expensive. Although it must have been washed ashore, it's in pristine condition. You open the box.
The box is lined with velvet, and in it lies a handgun and a single bullet. The ornateness of the box does not match the plain gunmetal. There's nothing more to it. It's exactly as it appears.
You imagine a pirate being given this on being marooned. You are marooned. By choice.
You take the gun into your hands. The second your finger meets metal, you know. This is His. And now it is yours. You are filled with a sense of dread of what Soul would do if he found you with a relic of His. Or what Mind would do if he saw you with a weapon.
You put the gun back in the box and close the lid. You stand and start to walk away. You need to get away from this ocean. Everything is wrong here.
But the thought creeps in: what would the others do if they had the gun?
You pick up the box and leave the shore.
---
As Night falls again, your eyes finally relax. You let yourself collapse again in the snow. You look up at your namesake. She signals to the other two that you're still here. Do they take pleasure in that?
You curl up into yourself and think of the Sun. From how he sees it, you're an accident. What was it he said? An Earth-shattering blow led to lifeless rocks being thrown into orbit, and through sheer spite it formed a unified body that only matters because it reflects the Sun's light. The fuck does he know? The Moon does... tides, or something. You don't really know, but you know that the Moon is more than a useless mirror.
You are more than an accidental item. Your body shakes, but whether that's from rage or cold is unclear. You miss the beach, but you knew you could not stay.
You think of the Earth. You think of how warm he was, before all this. You think of how he held you. You think of how the Earth and Moon are made of the same things, and how perfectly they fit together before. You think of all the things you tried to say. You think of how he cannot give you what you need.
You sit up on your knees and lean forward. You press frostbitten fingers into the snow. Something buzzes within you as you hit soil; this feels right.
---
You keep digging through the Night. You feel you were made for this. You were made to be buried. You are the emotions that need to be repressed. You are going to give yourself the grave they would not give you.
---
Progress is slow, but the Earth's caress is warming. The surface is hell, and down here you've found heaven. You brought the box down here with you. You wouldn't let it out of your sight. The hole is now as deep as you are tall. You sleep comfortably in the loose soil. You have a bed back at the house. You have a home here in the hole.
---
You wake up from a nap, and your Heart stops for a moment. The silence is broken. You hear a familiar sound coming from the surface. A sound you haven't heard in some time. You hear a sound you hoped never to hear again. You look out of the pit to see a blue glow against the starless Night. You hear the beating of Mind's wings.
He's here.
You duck back into the hole and fail to steady your breath. You look over at the box.
You take the gun.
---
Mind touches down on the ground before you.
[What the hell have you been doing?]
You don't want to meet his gaze. Two loops ago, you drove your thumb into his left eye. You still can't bear to look at the clock that's replaced it.
(What do you want?)
[I asked first. What are you doing out here?]
You look at the hole in the Earth and think about your plans. Or lack thereof. After some point, you were digging just to dig. You keep the gun tucked behind your back, your grip on the pistol tightening. Mind looks into the pit.
[Is that supposed to be a grave?]
Is it? Was it a survival technique, to bury yourself in the Earth to avoid the cold? Did you really want to die here? The urge to bury yourself faded as the hole grew. You grit your teeth. They always said that channeling your emotions into something would help, and you hate that they're right.
[You were going to bury me?]
You snap your gaze back to him. What a heliocentric prick! Why would you spend all this effort on him? He should know that the Heart is selfish.
And he really does look like a dragon with those puffs of steam. A laugh escapes you. You've done a lot of shit in the past, but you've never seen him this worked up about it. There's frost forming on his wings. As far as you walked, he had to fly. It must have taken him ages to find you, out here in the nothingness. He's not built to survive the cold.
(How have you not gone rigid yet, drake?)
Your genuine curiosity is taken as a threat. He snarls, then lunges at you. You stumble back and take aim just over his shoulder.
Time stands still. Time was already standing still, but even the wind holds for a moment, and flakes of snow are suspended mid-air. You listen to your Heartbeat for a measure, centering yourself on the rhythm. One, two. One, two. You fire.
You're knocked to the ground. Mind pins you down and disarms you. The gun is useless now anyways. Your warning shot didn't do anything. Mechanical hands connect with your face. You deserve it. You don't bother trying to explain. He wouldn't believe you if you did.
His weight is crushing you, and he's sapping whatever warmth you had. Every strike tells you one thing. You can't hear his strings of epithets for you over the pounding in your ears. You know how he missed you. He loves you so badly, and he's freezing to death right now. He collapses on top of you and buries his face in your hair.
The two of you lie there in the snow. Still alive, both of you. What a miracle.
You run your hand along his leathery wing. He loves to pretend that he's indomitable, but he's just as fragile. You debate digging your claws in and stripping him of his flight. You know he'd do the same in your place. All these years of trying to get this close, this is the perfect opportunity to strike. But you don't. You pull him a little tighter, hoping to share what warmth you can.
You missed him too.
---
You awake when you feel him being pulled off of you. Soul's here. He's draped a blanket over Mind as he tries to get the "truth" from him. Every instinct tells you to run. You try to scramble away, but the crunch of the snow beneath you alerts Soul. You don't get far before his trident skewers your leg.
He drags you back to the pit, where Mind sits shell-shocked. Mechanical hands run over His gun. Soul gives you a silent threat to stay put, then takes his place where the headstone of this "grave" would lie. You know he's ecstatic to be playing mediator. He looks between you both, sitting on either side of this pit you dug.
{So. Who's going first?}
You don't know where to begin. You feel like your body acts independently of your thoughts, like you're always being told what you're doing and what you've done, but never that you're in control of yourself. You don't decide to do things. You're a slave, always a slave.
[He tried to shoot me. He missed.]
Anger flashes in you. You didn't miss. You did exactly as you intended.
(I didn't miss! I wasn't trying to hit him! It was a warning shot!)
[He's a liar! He's always lying. Look at him. Look at this pit he dug for me! L-]
Soul hums with glee.
{Hmm. What I want to know is this: Where did you get the gun, Heart?}
You press your hand to the hole in your calf. There's nothing you could say to get out of this situation, and nothing you could do to get away.
(I found it. There was a beach.)
[Do you really expect us to believe that?]
You shrug halfheartedly.
(No. I don't.)
Soul towers over you. His fingers twist around his trident. He's always been one for edging.
{Well, we found him. Now what do we do with him?}
[I'm no sadist, Soul. I'm not inventing punishments for him.]
Soul kneels down and cups your cheek with his hand. Your body trembles at the touch. You wish you could forget he ever touched you like this before. He does not meet your gaze. Instead, he looks to Mind.
{Really? After all he's done to poor, little you?}
[I'm done here. I'm done with this. Finding him was a mistake. Do what you want with him. God knows he deserves it.]
Mind takes off, back towards the cliffs. Soul turns back to you.
{Seriously. How do you have something of His?}
(I told you. I kept walking, and I found a beach. The tide brought it in.)
Soul stands, then kicks you to the ground. His boot presses down into your chest. He readies his trident.
{The thing is, I believe you. But you chose this. You're responsible for pulling the trigger, and it's only fair you get what you deserve.}
---
Two strikes to blind you, and he walks off. It's remarkable how calloused he is. You have no words, no tears, no screams.
You pack snow into the empty sockets to numb the pain. It does not help.
---
You lie there. What else is there to do?
---
You're not sure how long it's been. You hear his wings.
Mind's landed somewhere nearby. You're not sure what he wants. You know what he feels. You don't care. He says nothing. You say nothing. It's still cold. He'll leave eventually.
Time passes. Or doesn't. You know how it is.
He's shivering. You can hear it. He knew what Soul would do. He could have stopped this. He did not.
You lift your head. He's spooked by the sight, but tries to stifle it. You must look wretched. You try to stand. He stops breathing as you stumble forward. You take a step, then another.
You fall in that damn pit. Mind's laughter is deafening. He leaves.
(God damn you...)
Yes, God has damned you.
---
Snow has piled in the bottom of the hole. The Earth is no longer warm. You remember the Earth's hand on your face. You remember holding the Sun.
Why did you run? It was a new loop. Why did you keep going? Why didn't you turn around?
All you hear is your Heartbeat.
---
You wonder if there's bacteria down here. You'd think there would be insects. You haven't found any.
You wonder if your wounds will fester.
You hope they do.
You hope it'll end.
---
It doesn't. You're not able to die. The Earth won't let you. The Sun won't bother.
You don't deserve escape. This is justice. You dug your lot.
---
At least you're safe down here? Your eyes have scabbed over. Your body starts to heal.
---
Would Soul have been so cruel then? He's spent so much time with Mind. Mind has no filter. He calls it as he sees it, and he detests most things he sees.
What sort of hell has Soul been in?
And where were you when he needed you?
---
You try to sing. You can't think of any new songs. You don't want to sing the old songs.
Would they want you to sing? No one listened before.
No one misses you. No one needs you. Don't delude yourself.
---
The pangs don't stop. You wish you were more than anger. You wish you didn't love. That's all you can think of. You're starving.
Even if you left this pit, would you find what you're looking for?
What you're looking for. Ha. You'd cry if you could. You laugh instead.
---
You stop wondering about things. No more observations. When you wake, you just try to fall asleep again.
Over and over.
---
You grow tired of sleeping. You lie awake. You go over every word said and left unsaid. You can't help it.
---
You've played out every alternative in your head. You're sure this is the worst outcome. And it's your fault.
---
This becomes a mantra. This is the worst outcome and it's your fault. You simmer in it. It becomes your source of heat.
---
If that's true, then it can't get worse. You want escape so badly? Fine. You'll escape.
You get to your feet and reach up.
---
It's quiet up here. And cold. Part of you was expecting it to feel more momentous. Nothing is momentous in a place outside of time. No one waits for you. All is quiet.
The wind bites into your empty sockets. You tear off the midriff of your shirt and tie it around your head in a makeshift blindfold.
You're lost. You have no idea how to go about finding your way back to the others. There's no sound, there's no light. It's just you. You didn't want this. But you chose this. You wanted love. You wanted to see and be seen. You need to go home.
You look up. Your namesake speaks to you.
(((YOU WILL FIND THEM AGAIN. GO)))
You pick a direction and start walking.
---
You find yourself at the slope. It's as steep as you remember it being. How did Soul get back to the top? Mind carried him? Like Soul would allow that. You follow along the edge of the plateau.
Your hands trail along the packed Earth. You still haven't fully healed from weeks of bare-handed digging, but you would tunnel your way to the surface if you had to. You don't have to. You've found a rope, dangling from the cliff's edge.
You're weak. You know you're weak. But you've got to try. You've got nothing else.
---
That enthusiasm was waning thin on the third attempt. Six later, and apathy rears its ugly head. You curl up into yourself and try to recover some warmth.
{?}
You hear a noise from above. It is unmistakably Soul.
(What are you doing out here?)
{... I've been trying to find that beach of yours.}
Of course he wouldn't be coming back for you. You feel sick for assuming it'd be anything else. An uneasy silence ensues.
Soul lowers himself down the cliff-side. After he reaches level ground, he stands over you for a moment. You wait for him to kick you while you're down. Instead, he crouches and tucks something into your hand. His gloves.
(... thanks.)
{Toss them back down when you reach the top, alright?}
---
You do just that. From below, you hear him walk off. Did he stick around to see if you'd make it back up, or did he just want his gloves back? Who cares. You're so close now.
The house is at the center of this plane, that you know. You don't know how you know, but you do. You set off again.
---
You keep running into trees. You're desperate to get back inside, but navigating the dense forest isn't as easy as you remember. You keep going. You're getting close now.
---
You hear humming. The beautiful Light hums. You stop to listen. He must see you, because he stops too. You hear the door open and close. He doesn't want to see you. That's fair.
You're too tired to care about what he wants. This is your house too.
You find your way inside. It doesn't smell like home. It smells chemical. Someone's been trying to clean a crime scene. You wonder what you would see in here. You wonder what the other two were up to while you were gone.
You feel your way into the bathroom. You turn on the shower and crank the heat as high as it will go. You step in. Your skin burns. You love it. It's not a gentle cleansing like the ocean gave. This is the kind of overwhelming, dominating thing you need. To have your love and hate stripped from you in equal, caustic measure. You feel free. You feel ready to confront the other.
---
But not quite yet. You can hear the quiet sobs.
You were expecting him to grovel at your feet. You were expecting him to beg for mercy. You were expecting a fight. You were expecting him to finally kill you. You were expecting him to ask you to sing. Remember how you two used to sing?
You weren't expecting him to run and lock himself in his room.
You're so hungry. You resolve to put this off for now.
---
You eat your fill. Starvation won't kill you, but this imitation body you have demands pseudo-realism. And it feels so good to be full again.
But you still haven't seen the others.
You try to occupy yourself. You sing. You scream.
---
You don't like this silence. You've become accustomed to it, but right now you're supposed to be home. He's right there, on the other side of this wall. Why hasn't he acknowledged you yet?
Soul came back from his venture a few days ago. He's ignoring you as well. You feel soft and fuzzy. Intangible. Translucent.
This is worse than the war.
---
You ram your shoulder into Mind's door again. You could hear him. You know he just sang some soft lyric about not wanting to be alone.
(I'm here, you know! Whenever you want to talk about it, I'm here!)
He does not answer. You slump against the door and weep. No tears come, but you try your best. It doesn't matter anyways.
---
Every time you leave your room, it seems the other two hide away. You spend a lot of time sitting outside their doors, trying to harmonize with them as they sing to themselves. Because you love them. You came back FOR THEM.
Or did you? It seems like... like you've come back because you demand an audience with indifferent kings.
Physically, you're satisfied. Your body is as intact as it can be. You're not hungry. You're free to sing and dance and laze about. But you are made of love, and without that love, you are dying.
---
You're sitting outside Soul's door. You can hear him talking to himself, and your selfish ass can't help but listen. He's saying terrible things, and it breaks your Heart. You interrupt him.
(Hey)
{...}
(You know I'm here.)
You can tell he's overthinking his words.
(Soul?)
{Do you know why we avoid you? You're... atomic. One wrong word, and this whole bloody war starts all over again. No one wants that.}
You let this settle in for a moment. Do they both think so lowly of you? Is he right? Why should anyone confide in you, when all you are is love and hate?
Why did you bother coming back at all? How is there this much rampant apathy in this house? All this singing of wanting and wanting, and all you want is to give it to them, but they deny themselves and you. Your temper rises as you try to think of a refutation.
But that'd just prove him right.
---
You return to your room.
You sing about that instead. The chords are stolen from someone else, but these words are yours.
Perhaps if you keep singing to an empty wall, something new will happen.
It won't.