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"Catch!" Blue exclaimed, hurling a beach ball overhead, unintentionally colliding with Dark's head as he gazed peacefully at the water.
Dark glared up at Blue, his expression filled with a hint of darkness. "Sorry, not sorry!" Blue laughed mischievously before leaping into the pool that Green had meticulously built.
"Brat," Dark muttered under his breath, snatching the beach ball and launching it into the pool.
Chosen chuckled beside him, sporting a pair of sunglasses he didn't really need but wore to enhance the authenticity of their "beach trip."
Blue and Green engaged in a playful wrestling match amidst the water, causing splashes and spraying droplets onto Second, who lay sprawled on his towel. "What the... hey!" Second sputtered in surprise.
Red, standing nearby, erupted into laughter as he scooped Reuben into his arms.
"Oh, Red, don't let Reuben in the pool. That's just disgusting, man," Yellow expressed, his face contorted in disgust.
"No way! Reuben needs to experience the pool too!" Red protested with a playful whine.
Alan, observing from the sidelines, motioned for Yellow to let Red have his way. Yellow responded with an annoyed sigh, gesturing for Red to continue his antics.
"Look at that, Reuben! You can swim now!" Red exclaimed, cradling the pig in his arms, who responded with an indifferent snort.
With a splash, both Red and Reuben plunged into the water, sending waves crashing towards Yellow and Alan
"Guys, I made sandwiches!" Purple announced, waving a hand and gently placing his picnic basket down.
Green playfully dunked Blue underwater and swiftly swam towards Purple. "Come back here!" Blue yelled, shaking his fist above the water.
Alan watched with a smile as they all gathered around Purple, who seemed slightly bewildered, trying to figure out who to give a sandwich to first.
"Aren't you going to have some?" Dark asked, settling beside Alan, holding two sandwiches in his hands. Alan chuckled softly, observing Dark as he took a bite from one of them. “How’d you get two?”. Alan asked
"Hmm, I don't know. I managed to grab these before Purple noticed. Besides, I'm famished. This is actually the first time I've had a sandwich," Dark sighed happily, devouring the first one in just three bites.
"Seriously? That's rough. But why?" Alan inquired, a tinge of frustration creeping into his voice.
Dark shrugged briefly before swallowing his food. "It's kind of challenging to find good food like this when you're constantly preoccupied with staying alive... and trying not to take lives," Dark chuckled at his own jokes before taking another bite.
Alan stared at Dark, a mix of emotions washing over him. He absentmindedly rubbed his arm, feeling the weight of unspoken guilt about their shared past.
It was a topic they had never openly discussed, but it hung in the air, connecting them in ways that words couldn't fully express.
Perhaps.. AB-0–
Shaking his head, Alan couldn't help but question himself. What was wrong with him?
Had he become so lost in his thoughts that he created a separate persona solely to shoulder the blame? Such self-inflicted delusion seemed pathetic to him.
As Dark glanced over, Alan's internal turmoil was briefly interrupted. "What's wrong? Aren't you going to grab something over there?" Dark asked, crumbs from his sandwich landing on Alan's arm.
Dark blushed slightly, realizing his unintended mess. "Sorry about that," he said, sheepishly.
Alan chuckled softly, sweeping the bread crumbs off his arm. "That's alright. And no, I actually ate earlier, so I don't have much room for more," Alan responded, trying to ease Dark's concern.
Both Alan and Dark turned their attention back to Purple, who was scrutinizing his basket, attempting to uncover any hidden sandwiches. "Okay, who the hell took two sandwiches?" Purple's voice cut through the joyous atmosphere.
Alan watched as Dark swiftly devoured his sandwich, a hint of guilt lingering in his expression.
Alan shook his head, a faint smile playing on his lips as he observed Dark relishing the moment. It was good to see him having the time of his life here.
Perhaps, Alan thought wistfully, they should just stay in his PC, and he would never have to face their inevitable departure.
Deep down, however, Alan acknowledged the truth. Both Chosen and Dark would eventually leave his computer once again.
Their presence here was solely for recuperation and fulfilling a purpose—Second.
With an internal sigh, Alan resigned himself to quietly watching everyone have fun.
The initial excitement had faded, leaving behind a subtle disappointment. "So much for having fun today," Alan muttered under his breath, a hint of snark in his tone.
…
The following day, Alan found himself coughing into his hands repeatedly as he struggled to water the plants.
Beside him, Purple mirrored his actions, insisting on assisting Alan with the task and tending to the wilted flowers.
"Alan, are you alright?" Purple's voice carried genuine concern as he held a handful of withered blooms. Alan glanced at them with a tinge of sadness before waving a dismissive hand.
"I'm fine, just keep doing what you're doing. Don't worry about me," he replied, attempting to stifle another cough.
His throat felt relentlessly itchy, and an unexplained heat coursed through his body. Could he be falling ill? Alan pondered, quickly shaking off the thought.
"No way," he grumbled irritably to himself. "I can't be that unlucky to get sick." Determined to carry on, Alan almost emptied the entire container of water onto a delicate, growing flower below him.
In a panic, he swiftly withdrew his hand, narrowly avoiding a mishap.
Frustration welled up within him as he fought against the possibility of succumbing to illness, refusing to let it hinder his responsibilities.
"Are you sure?" Purple's worry resonated in his voice as he looked at Alan. "Yes, I'm sure. Let's just carry on with our work, alright?" Alan responded, determined to push through.
Purple nodded, though he cast concerned glances at Alan from time to time.
Undeterred by his discomfort, Alan and Purple continued their tasks. After a while, Purple announced, "There, all done!" Alan and Purple peered down at the newly planted cherry blossom sapling.
"Looks good, nice job, Purple," Alan praised, patting him on the back.
Purple beamed with pride, chuckling and exclaiming, "We did it together!" Alan's stomach churned from the various scents emitted by the flowers, and he suggested, "How about we head back and rest for a while?"
Purple looked back at him, a hint of disappointment in his eyes. It was clear that he still wanted to stay in the garden. "So soon? I'm not ready to leave yet," Purple whined.
Alan contemplated for a moment before responding, "Well, you can stay if you want to. But I think I might head back home now." Purple's spirits lifted again, and he nodded. "I think that's what I'll do! See you later, Alan," Purple said.
Alan weakly waved, his other hand clutching his stomach in discomfort.
Is he going to be sick? Alan wondered anxiously as he hurried indoors.
Relieved that no one was home, he quickly made his way to his room and closed the door. Slowly, he stumbled towards the bathroom and vomited uncontrollably.
His body felt clammy, and his head spun dizzily. He could hardly distinguish between up and down. After emptying his stomach, he rested his forehead on his arm and sat down on the cool tiled floor.
"Oh God, please make it stop," Alan groaned, his grip on his stomach tightening in pain.
After a few moments, he gathered enough strength to stand up. He flushed the toilet and staggered back to his bed, collapsing onto it.
As his stomach churned once more, Alan curled up in bed, bringing his leg closer to his chest. The pain was unbearable, as if something was tearing him apart from the inside. His head throbbed relentlessly. It felt as though his entire being was being torn in two.
Alan could only groan in agony. Closing his eyes, he desperately hoped that sleep would bring some relief. Perhaps a little rest would help him feel better the next day...
…
"Where's Alan?" Second asked. Blue shrugged, struggling to hold a large box in his arms. "I'm not sure. I think I saw him rushing home," Blue replied. "Oh... I thought he was with Purple?" Second inquired, feeling a bit puzzled.
"Well, I passed by the garden, and Purple was still there," Blue shrugged again. "I need to go now. I really have to craft some potions," he added, urgency creeping into his voice.
"All right, sure. Go ahead. See you later!" Second waved, watching Blue walk away before hurrying back home.
As Second entered the living room, he noticed the absence of any signs of life or light. It seemed that Alan had gone straight to his room. Second thought as he rushed up the stairs, skipping steps two at a time.
He stopped in front of the wooden door and lightly knocked, waiting for a response.
When Alan didn't reply, Second tested the door to see if it was open. To his delight, it was.
Slowly, he pushed the door open, peeking his head inside. He scanned the room and spotted Alan curled up in bed.
"Oh, he's just asleep," Second said to himself, letting out a sigh of relief. But then he noticed the bed trembling slightly.
Was Alan trembling? Second wondered as he quietly entered the room, hoping not to annoy him. Second approached the bed cautiously and peered down at Alan.
"S-Sec?" Alan whispered, raising his head slightly while shaking.
"Alan, what's wrong? Why are you shaking?" Second asked, concern evident in his voice. He placed his hand on Alan's head but quickly withdrew it—it was hot.
"You're sick!" Second exclaimed, causing Alan to groan at the sudden loudness.
"I think so too. I'm feeling terrible today, I guess," Alan chuckled weakly, tucking his hands beneath his body.
Second watched with worry and decided to pull the blankets up to cover Alan.
"Sit up a bit and use the blankets," Second instructed, helping Alan readjust and placing the blankets over him.
"Feeling better?" Second asked. Alan let out a contented sigh in response, burying himself deeper under the covers.
What should I do? Second pondered. None of them had ever gotten sick before. He never thought a stick could get sick, but somehow Alan had. They didn't have any medicine either.
Second anxiously observed as Alan shifted and turned to face him. "Sec? Are you still here?" Alan mumbled. Second knelt beside the bed and nodded.
"Alan, what do you want me to do?" Second asked. Alan groaned and shook his head.
"Just rest," Alan mumbled. Second fidgeted with his hands. "Anything else? Do you want some food?" Second asked again.
Alan shook his head once more. "No food. I feel too sick," Alan mumbled incoherently.
Alan buried himself completely under the covers, his face now completely hidden.
Second stood there, contemplating whom to call for help.
Blue! Second thought.
He could ask Blue to craft a potion to help Alan. Second excitedly clenched his fist. "Alan, I'll be back. I'll get Blue to make a potion for you," Second said.
Alan only hummed in agreement, already too out of it to respond properly.
…
"Alan's sick?" Blue asked, setting down the glass bottle he had been holding. Second nodded solemnly.
"Yes, that's why I need you to make a potion to help him. Is it possible?" Second asked, his voice filled with concern.
Blue scanned his book for a moment before nodding. "Sure, I can make a few potions for him. I'll come by his room later and give them to him," Blue replied, taking out his quill and starting to write down the required ingredients for the potion.
"Thank you so much!" Second expressed his gratitude. Blue nodded, already focused on starting the potion as quickly as possible.
Second left Blue's workshop, contemplating his next steps.
He briefly considered calling Chosen and Dark since they had the most experience with everything.
Second nodded to himself, deciding to go to their place immediately and seek their assistance.
…
Second hurriedly jogged up to the small cottage that Green had built for Chosen and Dark.
He knocked loudly on the door, continuing to do so until Dark swung it open with an annoyed expression. It was evident that Dark had just woken up.
"What is it? You're so damn loud," Dark grumbled.
"I need your help. Alan is sick," Second pleaded, clasping his hands together and kneeling before Dark.
"What? Get the fuck up, kid, dammit," Dark grumbled, pulling Second to his feet.
"Is that a yes? Where's Chosen? I need him too," Second asked, peering over Dark's shoulders which Dark had purposely blocked his view.
"I'm here," Chosen landed behind Second, flames dancing in his hands as he crossed his arms. "Why did I hear that Alan got himself sick?" Chosen asked, disappointment lacing his voice.
"I found him in his room, shaking," Second replied timidly. Dark studied him for a moment before nodding. He closed the door behind him. "Alright, kid, we're going to check on him," Dark said, patting Second's head.
…
"Oh, hey," Alan mumbled weakly when he saw Chosen, Dark, and Second enter his dimly lit room.
The curtains were drawn, casting a shadowy atmosphere. Alan's face was pale, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead.
"Don't 'oh hey' us. How did you even get sick?" Dark asked, concern etched on his face. Alan only shrugged, his brows furrowing in frustration.
"Have you taken anything yet?" Chosen inquired, stepping closer to the bedside. Alan shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Not yet. I can't stomach food right now; I might just end up throwing it up again," Alan responded, his grip tightening around his aching stomach.
Dark watched his Creator squirm in agony, his heart sinking. Determined to offer some relief, he walked to Alan's side.
Gently, he warmed his hand, creating a soothing warmth, and then pressed it against Alan's trembling abdomen. "Does it help?" Dark asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.
Alan managed a slight nod, his hand finding solace in Dark's comforting touch. He held onto Dark's hand tightly, seeking comfort amidst the pain.
"I've already reached out to Blue," Second chimed in, his voice laced with worry.
"I've asked him to create a potion to aid Alan, but I don't know how long it will take for him to prepare it." Second's eyes flickered with a mix of determination and anxiety.
Chosen, the ever-reliable and level-headed one, took charge. "For now, let's focus on bringing down his fever," he suggested.
"Fetch a clean towel and wet it. We'll use it to cool him down." Second nodded, a sense of urgency driving him as he saluted and swiftly exited the room
Chosen shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips as he approached Alan, who had drifted back to sleep.
Dark's hand remained on Alan's stomach, providing a gentle source of warmth and comfort. "You alright?" Chosen asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.
Dark nodded, his focus unwavering as he continued to watch over Alan.
"How unlucky can you be to get sick," Dark whispered, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.
"I did warn him a few days ago to rest. Now look where that got him," Chosen remarked, a hint of playful admonishment in his voice.
He couldn't help but feel a touch of satisfaction, thinking, "I told you so," even though he knew it wouldn't make a difference now.
"Ah, let him be. He's probably just trying to fit in, I guess," Dark said, shrugging his shoulders.
Chosen stared at his creator, his gaze thoughtful. Alan didn't need to try so hard. The others had accepted him from the moment he stepped foot in this place. He didn't need to prove anything more.
Lost in their silent contemplation, they were interrupted by Second's return. He waved a wet towel excitedly in his hands, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Drops of water splashed onto Dark's face, causing him to splutter in annoyance. "Second, would you stop that?" Dark attempted to grab Second's arm with his free hand but missed.
"Blegh," Second teased, passing the towel to Chosen, who skillfully folded it and gently placed it on Alan's forehead.
Alan let out a sigh of relief, his features relaxing. "Thanks, guys," he mumbled, slipping back into a peaceful slumber.
The three of them fell into a comfortable silence once more, their presence a steady reassurance for Alan.
However, Second couldn't resist pointing out the obvious. "So, Dark... are you going to stay like that until Alan wakes up again, or..." Second trailed off, pointing at Dark's hand, which still rested on Alan's stomach.
Dark's face flushed with embarrassment, and he quickly withdrew his hand, stammering, "Wha- ugh, shut up, Sec."
Chosen shook his head, a fond smile tugging at his lips. "What a bunch of kids," he thought, amused by their antics.
But before the moment could settle completely, a mischievous idea crossed Second's mind. "Wait! We can make soup for Alan. Darkkk, help me out," he whispered dramatically, leaning his head on Dark's shoulder.
In response, Dark pushed him away, saying, "Get away from me. Fine, let's do it."
Second couldn't contain his excitement and silently cheered, pulling Dark along by hugging his arm and dragging him out of the room. Dark stumbled along, caught off guard.
Chosen observed their antics with a smile, enjoying the lightheartedness that temporarily lifted the weight of worry from his shoulders.
He then turned his attention back to Alan, who was now softly snoring. "Well, at least I know some people are taking care of you," Chosen whispered, a touch of tenderness in his voice.
He gently readjusted the towel on Alan's forehead, ensuring its proper placement.
Alan stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent before slipping back into a peaceful snore. Chosen let out a relieved sigh, grateful for the respite Alan's deep sleep provided.
Chosen couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. He had predicted that Alan would fall ill, and as always, he had been right.
With a small chuckle, he thought, "When was I ever wrong?".
But knowing Second and Dark's propensity for mischief, Chosen decided it was best to keep an eye on them. "They might set the whole house on fire," he said to himself.
With a final glance at Alan, he followed after Second and Dark, ready to keep their exuberance in check and ensure that their efforts to make soup for Alan didn't result in any disasters.
…
As Second marveled at Dark's culinary skills, he couldn't help but express his admiration. "Oh wow, you're so good at cooking, Dark!" Second gushed, his eyes wide with awe.
Dark brushed off the compliment, feeling slightly annoyed. "Everyone knows how to cook, Sec," he replied dismissively, reaching into a cabinet to retrieve a bowl.
"But not me, I'm just good at crafting food," Second lamented, peering into the pot. His disappointment was evident when Dark closed the pot, shutting off his view.
"That's too bad, kid. You need to learn the fundamentals of actually making 'real' food," Dark remarked, his tone slightly teasing. Second, let out a whine, longing for a chance to learn.
Just then, Chosen approached them, holding a confused pig in his hands. It was Reuben, the beloved pig of Red.
"What's Reuben doing with you?" Second asked, heaving himself up the kitchen aisle to find a place to sit.
Chosen shrugged, a perplexed expression on his face.
"I don't know. Red just handed him to me and told me to hold on to him for a while," he replied, still puzzled by the situation.
Despite the confusion, Chosen couldn't resist giving Reuben a warm hug.
Dark, ever the instigator, raised his knife and made a mischievous suggestion. "I say we cook him," he said, a wicked glint in his eyes as he edged closer to the unsuspecting pig.
The room fell silent for a moment, the air thick with a mix of shock and amusement.
Chosen's protective instincts kicked in immediately as he heard Dark's suggestion. "No!" Chosen exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine concern.
He swiftly pulled Reuben away from Dark, who had been edging closer with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
The pig snorted in response to the sudden movement, clearly startled.
However, before Chosen could fully register the situation, Dark lunged at him, brandishing the knife in his hand.
Chosen's eyes only widened in surprise as he found himself being jumped by Dark.
Meanwhile, Second watched the unexpected turn of events with wide eyes, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.
He couldn't resist the opportunity for some entertainment. "Fight! Fight! Fight!" Second cheered, his voice filled with playful enthusiasm, urging them on in their scuffle.
…
As Alan took a sip of the soup Second handed to him, he noticed the absence of Chosen and Dark.
Curiosity piqued, he asked, "Where's Chosen and Dark?" Second scratched the back of his neck, feeling a bit embarrassed.
"They... just went out to get something," he replied, not wanting to reveal the earlier scuffle.
Sensing the shift in the conversation, Second quickly changed the subject, offering Blue's potion that had been prepared for Alan.
He retrieved the purple potion from his inventory and handed it to Alan, who looked confused but accepted it nonetheless.
Alan stowed the potion in his inventory, planning to drink it after finishing the soup.
Second sat by Alan's side, and Alan, inquisitive as ever, asked, "How about you? Have you already eaten?" Second's mind flashed back to the earlier mishap and he mumbled, "Oh, they've eaten it alright."
Alan, not catching Second's words clearly, tilted his head and asked, "What?"
Quickly recovering, Second shook his head, chuckling. "Oh! I meant I already ate!" he clarified, trying to brush off any suspicion.
Alan gave a slightly skeptical look but let it go, finishing the last bites of his soup and then chugging down the minty potion.
"It's minty," Alan remarked, handing the potion bottle and bowl back to Second, who accepted them.
Second explained, "I think Blue made it that way so you would drink the medicine. Anyways, I'm taking these downstairs. You should go back to sleep."
Alan nodded in agreement. "Alright, you don't need to watch over me anymore. I can handle myself," he assured Second, leaning back against his pillow.
Second stared at Alan for a moment, his concern evident in his eyes, before giving a slow nod.
"Alright, sleep well, Alan," Second whispered, his voice filled with genuine care.
"Thanks again, and make sure to tell Chosen and Dark the same," Alan responded gratefully. Second waved his hand, assuring Alan that he would relay the message, before quietly leaving the room
.
.
.
.
RING! RING! RING!
Alan groaned as he opened his eyes, his senses slowly coming back to him. He heard a persistent ringing sound and wondered if Yellow had left an alarm clock in his room.
As he tried to make sense of his surroundings, he realized with a jolt that he was back in his own house. "Home?" Alan muttered, his voice filled with confusion as he sat up quickly.
Taking in his familiar surroundings, Alan scanned his room and noticed that his PC was there, closed.
He knew that even when it was closed, Second and the others could still access and move around within it.
"How am I back home?" Alan wondered aloud, his voice echoing in the empty room. He looked down at his hands and saw his real hands, fingers with joints that he could move.
It had been a while since he had felt the sensation of having physical hands.
The realization hit him abruptly. How was he back in his house? Wasn't he... dead?
Memories of the crash flooded his mind, but they came to an abrupt halt when he heard a loud slam of a door downstairs.
His heart raced, and he quickly ran out of his room and down the stairs, his blurry eyes straining to see.
To his surprise, he found DJ, standing in all his glory, right in front of his front door.
Confused but relieved, Alan asked, "DJ? What... why are you here?" He tilted his head, his eyes still adjusting.
A pang of annoyance hit him as he realized he had forgotten his glasses upstairs.
DJ flashed a mischievous grin and replied, "Woah, man, what's the hurry?" There was a playful tone in his voice.
"Man, you're sick. I got you some medicine. You called me, didn't you?" DJ's voice broke through Alan's confusion as he raised his hand, holding a plastic bag.
Alan's realization hit him with a sense of finality, and he slumped down, sitting on the steps of his stairs.
"Dude, you alright? I think you need to go back to your bed and rest, man," DJ advised, concern evident in his voice as he lightly grabbed Alan's arm.
Alan nodded, his mind still spinning, and mumbled, "Yeah... yeah, you're right."
He ran a hand down his face, trying to process everything that had happened. Was his life as a stick figure just a dream all this time?
The thought left him feeling numb as he walked back to his room and sat down on his bed.
DJ followed Alan into the room and offered him a glass of water.
Alan accepted it gratefully and quickly drank it down, wiping his mouth afterward. DJ's worry lingered as he asked, "Are you sure you're alright?" Alan nodded, trying to reassure both himself and DJ.
"I am, I am. Don't worry, man," he replied, although he couldn't shake off the feeling of disorientation.
He was human again, or perhaps he had always been human and had only dreamt of being a stick figure.
Alan shook his head, feeling his eyes tremble. "Ugh," he groaned, rubbing his eyes with his thumbs. DJ, noticing his distress, asked, "Have you eaten yet?" Alan nodded, realizing that the last time he had eaten was...
He quickly dismissed the thought, looking back up at DJ, who was growing more puzzled by the minute.
"I think I can make you some soup, man. Stay here, I'll bring it in so you can finally drink some meds, alright?" DJ suggested. Alan nodded dumbly, his mind still trying to comprehend everything that had transpired.
"Okay," Alan whispered to himself as DJ left the room and descended the stairs. For a brief moment, he tried to gather his thoughts, but tears began to pool in his eyes.
"Okay, okay, calm down. It's just a dream. They're still here," he repeated softly to himself, slowly standing up and approaching his PC.
As he was about to turn it on, something caught Alan's eye—a piece of paper that he had posted above his wall, a sketch he had done during his lessons with Second. But now, it was missing.
Alan's search for the missing sketch led him to check underneath his desk, hoping it had simply been knocked off.
He kneeled on the floor, mumbling to himself in confusion, feeling a sense of terror gnawing at his heart.
But the sketch was nowhere to be found. Something was definitely wrong, and Alan couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was that was throwing him off so much.
Everything felt unreal, like a distorted version of reality. Alan shook his head, attributing it to his illness. He slowly stood up, stumbling slightly as his world spun before his unaided eyes.
He glanced back at his bedside, only to realize that his glasses were missing as well. Alan looked around once again, growing more perplexed.
Why were his things disappearing? He checked under his bed, in his bed, and even his desk again, but there was no sign of his glasses or the sketch.
A sense of unease settled over him. What was going on? Alan thought, shaking his head in disbelief. He decided to retreat to the bathroom and wash his face, hoping to clear his mind.
He walked unsteadily, reaching the bathroom and heading straight for the sink. Without paying much attention to his reflection, he splashed water on his face and grabbed a nearby towel to wipe it dry.
As he glanced at his reflection, he noticed something peculiar. The mirror was glitching, rapidly shifting between a normal reflection, a 2D version, and even a pixelated form within a span of seconds. "Wha—" Alan gasped, taking a step back in alarm.
Fear gripped him, and he quickly ran back to his room, the unsettling scene fresh in his mind. Without hesitation, he made his way downstairs, desperate for answers.
"Alan, what's wrong?" DJ asked, concerned, as Alan stumbled into the room. Trying to catch his breath, Alan pointed back at the bathroom.
"The-The mirror, it's glitching," he managed to say before DJ interrupted him with a dismissive laugh.
"Dude, are you high or something? I think you need to bzzzt ." DJ froze mid-sentence, his entire body transforming into pixels, as if he had been digitized in a game.
Horror gripped Alan as he witnessed the sudden transformation. His mind raced, trying to make sense of the inexplicable events unfolding before his eyes.
Excuse me for that mistake, i won’t do it again, after all i'm just getting used to this…
As Alan reached the bottom of the stairs, he halted in his tracks, his heart pounding in his chest. The voice that echoed through the house sent shivers down his spine.
It was a voice he recognizes—staticky, gravelly, and constantly shifting in pitch and tone.
"AB-006?"
That’s right, do you like my work Alan? I can be just like you… A Creator…
Alan's heart raced as he descended the stairs, his mind filled with a mix of fear and confusion.
He glanced back, expecting to see DJ following him, but instead, he was met with an unfamiliar figure standing in the distance.
It was someone who bore a striking resemblance to DJ, but there was something off about them—an eerie aura that sent chills down Alan's spine.
Feeling a surge of terror, Alan sprinted to the kitchen, hoping to find some respite from the unsettling presence.
His footsteps echoed through the empty house as he reached the kitchen, his eyes scanning the room for any signs of familiarity or safety.
The sound of his own rapid breathing filled the air, amplifying the intensity of the moment.
Instinctively, Alan's gaze fell upon the counter, where a glint of metal caught his eye. Without hesitation, he grabbed a knife, his hands trembling.
What’s wrong, do you not like it? Am I not good enough?
Alan's voice quivered as he struggled to make sense of the harrowing situation that had engulfed him.
The weight of fear bore down on him, causing his legs to tremble beneath him. Gripping the knife tightly, he mustered the courage to vocalize his overwhelming confusion.
"Where am I? What is going on?" Alan's words hung in the air, his voice laden with anxiety and desperation.
The familiar surroundings of his own home now felt alien and twisted, as if he had been transported to an entirely different realm.
You’re home Alan, this is what you want right?
His voice quivered as he thought, "Oh God, where am i? Where has this monster taken him to?" Alan's heart ached with the weight of the unknown, fearing the worst for the others.
Alan….do you see my power now? I can easily hold your mind…Make you see things that others cannot…..
"What is this... a dreamscape?" Alan's words hung in the air, a plea for understanding in the face of the inexplicable.
His grip on the knife tightened, seeking a semblance of security and control amidst the chaos.
Tears welled up in Alan's eyes as he cried out, "Let me go, please. I want to go back." His voice carried a raw yearning, a desperate desire to escape the nightmarish reality he found himself trapped within.
You don’t want to stay? Why do you want to go back to them? Why? Why?
As the house shook violently, Alan's body trembled in sync with the unsettling vibrations.
The sheer force of the disturbance overwhelmed him, causing him to lose his balance and lower himself to the floor. Fear gripped him tightly, rendering him speechless and unable to respond.
Caught between the primal instincts of fight or flight, Alan found himself in a state of paralysis.
The intense terror that coursed through his veins immobilized him, leaving him frozen in fear. His mind raced with thoughts of self-preservation, yet his body remained rooted to the spot, unable to muster a response.
I remember your wish Alan…, I can give it to you now…
"What wish?". Alan cried, his hands shook, and his hand suddenly seized. The hand that had been holding the knife shook as slowly, against his will. It points straight at him.
"Wh-what? Stop! Stop!". Alan attempted to fight the hand that held the knife. "Please, no! No!". Alan struggled, his legs kicking in fear uselessly.
He couldn't move. Alan wheezed as he felt the knife plunge into his stomach.
Oh god it was painful .
Alan choked out a scream when his hand plunged the knife back into his stomach again.
Does it hurt? Will it hurt if you die Alan? Tell me how it feels, i want…to know how pain feels like
Alan cried as he mercilessly continued plunging the knife back again, this time his chest. He couldn't move his body anymore, he felt tears pouring out his eyes in a steady stream.
Oh god it hurts, make everything stop. Alan thought as he slowly looked down, his hand had finally stopped.
Blood. So much blood. I think I'll be sick.
Alan cried out as he saw blood spurting from his stomach and chest. He let out choked screams when he tried to move from his position. But his body was both paralyzed in pain and terror.
He needs to get away! Run! Run!
Alan, how does it feel?
Alan only gasps as he tries to catch his breath, his vision spinning. More blood had seeped out from the stab wounds he had given himself. “Hurts…stop…stop”.
Alan choked out as he tried to plead to the monster.
This is…how they felt Alan, you toyed with them…didn’t you?
Alan then remembered how he hurt his creations (he did hurt everyone, why does he keep hurting the people he cares about?), “Oh god, no please, don’t make me remember”. Alan gasps out in pain. He’s the worst isn’t he? Oh god….
He tries to stop the blood from flowing out with his hands, he desperately tries to cover the wounds. But it was too much and too painful.
How does it feel to lose control Alan?
Let your Guilt consume you Alan Becker!
As if a feeling of realization came over Alan, slowly his hand reached for the knife again. “What ... .What am I doing?”. Alan said in a daze and he brought the tip of the knife up his neck.
What? What is he doing? Alan thought, already dizzy with blood loss.
You’re only doing the right thing……
Then in an abrupt manner, Alan slit his throat. “Ecch!”. Alan choked as he dropped the knife in the floor, his body slumping down and his vision finally going dark….
You are finally cleansed….
Let’s work together in the future Alan…
…
Alan jolted awake, his heart pounding in his chest. Confusion and fear gripped him as he instinctively clutched his neck, trying to ground himself in the reality of the moment.
Beside him lay Second, the familiar orange figure.
"Alan?" Second murmured, stirring from his sleep. Alan's voice wavered as he replied.
"Sec?" His gaze shifted down, finding solace in the sight of Second cuddling up to him.
A mixture of relief and lingering unease washed over Alan as he held Second close, feeling the warmth and comfort in the embrace.
"What's wrong?" Second asked, sensing Alan's distress.
Alan hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to articulate the lingering remnants of his nightmare.
With a trembling voice, he mustered the courage to say, "I... I had a bad dream." The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his emotions.
Understanding flickered in Second's eyes, and he nodded empathetically.
"Cho mentioned that you sometimes have those. Maybe a hug will help," Second suggested, holding onto Alan even tighter, offering his support without hesitation.
"Thank you, Sec," Alan whispered, gratitude and affection lacing his words. Second nodded in response, before drifting back into peaceful slumber.
And Alan... Alan couldn't sleep.
His mind was still plagued by the remnants of the unsettling dream, casting a shadow over his weary thoughts. Despite the comforting presence of Second beside him, rest eluded him.
.
.
.
.
“Did you see that? He moved his finger!”
“That would mean sooner or later he will wake up, right?”