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Keith found that he had dreams about his silly counterpart more often than not. Ever since the two had met, there was usually something relating to him waiting for him in dreamland, whether it be a positive or a negative. He hadn’t brought any of them up to YS, even though he thinks maybe he should. Though with the way those two were connected lately, maybe he didn’t have to. It was fair for Keith to wonder if the YS in his dreams was actually the real one, and they kept meeting while asleep instead. Stranger things could happen, after all. He was dating a demon. Hell, the fact that demons actually existed in the first place was strange enough.
Still, he took an unusual comfort in the fact he was able to have a connection with himself across dimensions. He had friends, and two amazing partners, but no one could really know you better than yourself, right? Having YS around helped. Was it a little weird that Keith was essentially friend-brothers with himself? Maybe, but he’d stopped caring by now. Who cared about that in a world with magic and demons and weaponized singing and microphones anyways.
Regardless of the circumstances, ending up back here was the last thing Keith was expecting. Back in the dimly lit hall of mirrors, with the fateful one already shattered. It was like the battle had already happened, so why could he still hear the music roaring in his ears? Why was the microphone in his hand darker and blazing red?
No one else seemed to be here. The sound flooding his ears was almost deafening, wailing for him to sing like he did before. YS wasn’t here, but there were reflections in the shattered mirror that Keith knew all too well. Their faces haunting, voices broken like shards of glass scraping across a hardened surface. Taunting him, admonishing him as he threw all he had into the microphone in his hands. Nothing worked. His voice drowned out by the distorted ones of his partners in the mirror, looking at him with such a disappointment it made his blood freeze.
“I don’t understand!” It was all he could do to even hear himself over the chaos surrounding him. Time seemed to be moving slowly, his words warbled and his movements sloppy. Fuck, he was missing notes by trying to speak!
Is this really what we settled for?
Keith felt like he was drowning. He had to keep singing, that was the only way to survive, but his throat seemed to be swollen shut, and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t sing the notes the song was howling to him. Why couldn’t he sing, why couldn’t he breathe?
The one thing he claims he’s good at, and he can’t even hold up in the face of who matters most. This is where we are meant to place our dedication? Our faith?
Our pride?
Each echoing statement was like a knife to his heart- The voices were theirs, but not fully. If it all wasn’t real, why did the words hurt so damn much? Why couldn’t he see himself in the shattered mirror, either? His reflection only disappeared if YS was using it somewhere nearby, but that wasn’t possible. The microphone in his hands was his counterpart’s, he couldn’t mirror-walk without it. And why was everything so damn loud?!
What happened to you, XML? You’ve been here before, but now you can’t live up to what you were?
You’ve grown sloppy, grown soft. How could you possibly expect to keep a hold of it all like this? Your talent is fading, and the prizes therein you keep will fade with it. You never deserved them to begin with.
Keith fell to his knees, gasping for air. The corners of his vision were blacking out, and his thoughts grew scattered and unfocused. The reflections in the mirror bled through the cracks, drenched in shadow advancing towards him. The red blaze of the microphone flickered and died, the howling song growing only louder as his sight gave up on him. One last breath, and…
He awoke with a violent start, upright and heaving breaths. The room was still dark, and he could faintly register the soft breaths of Pico and Cherry beside him as they slept on. It was a miracle he hadn’t woken them up. They were right there, the real ones, safe and asleep in their warm, shared bed. That was real. So why couldn’t he stop shaking? He wiped at his forehead, aghast at how much sweat was there. He felt shivering cold, but was hyperventilating with breath almost super-heated. Nothing made any damn sense-!
There was a sudden but gentle hand. In the midst of his panic, he’d failed to notice his communication mirror no longer held any reflection, and that the shaded figure of YS was crouching next to his corner of the bed. A firm tug had Keith up on his feet, led by his arm to the balcony window. It was quietly pulled up for the two of them to climb out, into the cool air of the night. The moon shone serenely above them, illuminating the concerned expression on YS’s face.
“Little man?” The silly counterpart asked quietly as they sat down side by side. “What… was that?”
Three simple words, and yet it was enough for Keith’s blood to run cold again. He was asking about the dream. The dream that he had supposedly been alone in, so how could YS know about it? A dream that confirmed that they could experience the same thing while asleep, but that meant he’d seen and felt everything, and how was he supposed to explain what that was when he didn’t fully understand it himself?
“Breathe, deep breaths now. Come on, copy me. You’re alright.” The ragged voice jut into his whirling thoughts, and Keith realized he was struggling to breathe again. He tried his best to match up to the exaggerated breaths YS was displaying for him. “Don’t push yourself too hard. If you can’t speak right now, that’s okay. I got worried, that was a really violent end to a dream- or should I say a nightmare.”
So he really had seen it all.
“That was… different to the ones before.” YS treaded carefully, keeping a watch of Keith’s face. “Normally you and I are separate. Normally nothing meaningful happens in dreams like that either. But this one, we were seemingly in the same body. Hearing the same things, feeling the same struggle. Though I’m not entirely sure I was fully there. Those emotions were from you, little man. And those reflections, they were Cherry and Pico weren’t they?”
“S-stop, please.” Keith hissed out, fists clenching. “I don’t know what that was but it wasn’t real. They weren’t real. The things they were saying weren’t…real.”
The taller one eyed him closely. “Not real, you say? But you don’t sound convinced of that. Come on, Keith, we know each other best. What’s really going on here? You’ve got to be the most talented singer out of all of us across reality, but in a moment all of that vanished because a ‘not real’ version of your partners stopped believing in you.”
“I just…” He deflated, leaning slightly into his taller self’s side. “I don’t know why it would be any different. You want your Cherry to be proud of you. That’s all you wanted. Of course I would want that same pride from my own partners. We’re the same only with slight differences from the worlds we come from. I just hoped I wasn’t so reliant on that pride like you were when we first met.”
YS let out a long sigh, fixing his gaze on his microphone. “It’s not your fault, entirely. It’s normal to want the people you love to be proud of you. What wasn’t normal was letting that need for it drive my actions. I’ve scared you into believing any level of wanting people’s pride is wrong, haven’t I?”
Keith didn’t want to answer. They both knew it was probably true, but there was the underlying guilt of blaming it all on his counterpart. Hadn’t he suffered enough?
“Taking responsibility for my actions shouldn’t cause you guilt. Things happen, mistakes are made. Choices that you should never make in a million years are followed through with. I regret making us meet the way we did. I don’t regret getting to meet you.”
“I don’t regret it either.” Keith mumbled into his knees, wrapping his arms around his legs. “I just wish we didn’t have these problems. No one can be perfect, but I still want to. I want to be the best, and I want to be worth it. I guess I don’t really feel like I deserve Pico or Cherry’s pride right now.”
“I think you do.” YS countered quickly. “You’ve done nothing to not deserve it, dude. You live your life every day striving to be the best person you can be, and you fuckin’ rock at singing. We don’t have the traditional life society pushes everyone to want, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t worth being proud of. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that.”
“It’s just hard, dude.” Admitted Keith with a sniffle. “It’s so exhausting to be someone who loves his life and has so much to be happy for, and then in an instant I can be tired of it all and think that none of it matters. Why does that happen?”
A twirl of his microphone and another sigh. “Sometimes your brain’s just like that. Your Pico, doesn’t he have days where he struggles too? And you do your absolute hardest to comfort him, telling him everything will be okay, and the thoughts will pass? Does he always believe you when you try, or does it end up with some days where you can’t get through to him at all?”
Keith frowned. “Yeah. Sometimes that does happen.”
“It’s important to understand that struggles with mental health happen. You shouldn’t feel guilty for not living up to the perceived idea of yourself. We all have struggles. We all have ‘imperfections’ that can hurt but they aren’t reflections of who we are. Just scars of things we went through. You don’t lose pride in Pico whenever he has a bad day. I don’t think you’d ever lose pride in your Cherry for anything. Why would they lose pride for you? Have a little more faith in them, man.”
“You’re right.” He relented, de-tangling himself. “Everything I do is for them, I guess I get terrified to lose them. But even in the worst future where I could, I still have myself and my own pride. And you, insane as it may be.”
“Hey.” Yourself grinned, hand returning to Keith’s shoulder. “You have pride in me, and look at how much of a mess I am. Look at how many days I’ve wasted because I was so depressed I couldn’t bear to be alive. I still get those days fairly often. Shit’s normal. Wanting people to be proud of you is normal. Just try not to let it take over your life.”
“Thanks YS.”
“Anytime.” The taller one said with a short nod. “Although, you still look a bit shaken up. It’s pretty late, but I don’t really have anywhere important to be in the morning, so I can stay for a while longer. If you want.”
“I would appreciate the company, yeah. I don’t really want to wake Cherry and Pico up at this hour. But, um, if I could ask? I feel like I really need a hug right now.”
YS chuckled a deep and low sound, shaking his head fondly and opening up his arms for Keith. The pair slotted together for an awkward but comforting embrace. Sure, Yourself’s arms might have been uncannily long, and Keith was twisted around in a way that made it hard to hug back, but it was exactly what he needed. An uplifting moment after a terrible nightmare.
“Hey, I just noticed your clothes aren’t all ripped up anymore. When did that happen?”
“Few days ago.” Yourself let on, pulling away to reminisce. “Thought it was time to start fixing some scars, even if it was only in fabric.”
“I’m proud of you.” Keith said firmly, making sure to emphasize it. “I’m also proud of you for taking a shower so you don’t fucking stink for once.”
“Alright, little man, don’t push it.” He grinned, ruffling Keith’s hair. “I’m not going to stay here if you just plan to insult me. You should be going back to sleep, anyway. I don’t want to keep you out here all night.”
“Just a bit longer.” Keith insisted with a wave of his hand. “It’s nice out here. Sleep is for losers.”
YS shook his head in amusement, twirling the microphone in his hands again. “Sure thing.” He raised the microphone closer to his mouth, smiling contently as the blaze of red sleepily blinked awake. To Keith’s surprise, the familiar song came to life again, but different. It was slower, softer, and quieter to match the atmosphere around them. YS’s normally strong and ragged voice instead began coming out in gruff but smooth hums, almost like he was keen to sing his counterpart a lullaby.
Huh. Keith thought, eyelids drooping slightly. I think I like this version too.
“I’ll make you see, how proud you should be,” Yourself sang lowly, keeping a close watch on Keith as he started nodding off to the melody. “So stay right here, and keep your fear, at bay.”
Maybe not the best lines he could come up with, but it was on the spot, so good enough. Freestyling was hard when it was so late at night, sue him. Regardless, YS’s little plan worked. Keith had fallen back asleep after a few more minutes of the melody, which had been his goal from the start. With his other-self-turned-brother taken care of, the content smile on his lips faded as he turned his eyes to the still open window.
“I know you two are awake. It’s not very nice to eavesdrop on someone’s conversation, you know. But I can’t really blame you either, considering I’m a stranger here.”
A beat of silence passed, before the slightly disheveled forms of Pico and Cherry climbed onto the balcony with them. They looked tired and slightly guilty, but mainly worried. YS wouldn’t admit to the spike of adrenaline shooting up his spine when he caught sight of Cherry- she wasn’t his, he had to remember that. Seeing her through a mirror had been one thing. Her being actually in front of him was another.
“We didn’t mean to…” Cherry mumbled quietly, fiddling with her hands. “We just weren’t sure how to make our presence known.”
“We weren’t fully sure who Keith was talking to for a bit either.” Pico added. “Took us a few minutes to put two and two together.”
“Well, I am sorry that our first meeting had to be like this of all things.” Yourself shrugged, gently willing the red of his microphone back to sleep. “I’m that other guy Keith talks to sometimes. He’d been trying to convince me to properly meet you two for a few weeks now. Unfortunately, his plan for it got interrupted.”
“YS, was it? Or Yourself?” Pico asked. “We don’t really mind. At least we have a chance to thank you now.”
“You’ve helped Keith a lot from what we can tell.” Cherry nodded to add on. “We heard what happened in your world, and yet you spend your time here to help him and yourself at the same time. I can’t imagine what you’re really going through, but… if you ever need anything from me, or Pico, we’d want to help too. You’re not our Keith, but you’re still Keith. So, you matter too.”
YS offered them a curious grin. “I’m flattered. Thank you. I think it would be… nice, to get to talk more, but like I’ve said: it’s late. I think we should take him back inside, and I can be on my way. You two should talk to him about his nightmare in the morning.”
Without any more words, the three worked to move Keith back into the room through the window without waking him up. Once they succeeded, YS called on his microphone again as it sprung to life. The mirror on the desk began to shine, awaiting his return. But before he could, he was stopped by Cherry one more time.
“Thank you, again. I’m proud of what you’re doing.”
The grip on his microphone tightened, and his jaw clenched. He dipped his head down to hide his eyes, displaying a smile that wasn’t quite right. “Of course. Thank you.” Before anything else could happen, he disappeared back into the mirror. Neither Cherry nor Pico noticed the single tear that was left behind falling to the floor in his absence.
“Are you sure that was the right thing to say to him?” Pico whispered, slightly unnerved by the reaction.
She shook her head. “No. But I think he needed to hear it.”
Leaving it at that, the two climbed back into bed with the sleeping Keith, laying on either side of him now. Pico made sure to keep a secure hold on one of his hands while Cherry pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek. Neither were really sure if they’d be able to get any rest of the remaining part of the night. They simply kept their precious blue-haired rapper close in their arms, eyes closed and hearts full.