Chapter Text
All you wanted was to collapse on the cold. It was a shitty day. It had been off wrong since the morning and continued spiraling downward. Academic struggles, mind-numbing boredom at a part-time job, and a myriad of small frustrations thicken the colors in grim picture. And even getting home on time wasn’t an option.
A narrow shadow stretched across the doorway, creeping into the room. You carelessly tossed your backpack, not worried in the slightest about its contents, and dropped onto the bed, not even bothering to take off your hoodie. Who cares if the sheets left unmade since morning when you overslept might get dirty because of your jeans? That was the least of your concerns.
Messy hair, dark circles under your eyes, and utter exhaustion made it clear how drained you were. Too tired to process any thoughts, you covered your face with your hands and let out a loud sigh, sinking into total darkness. You were just so worn out, a lot came over you, not knowing what to do. Your mind wavered between wanting to run away fleeing further and faster than ever, out of the city to feel the icy wind and burn off every ounce of frustration and collapsing right here on the bed, disappearing into oblivion. You wanted someone to talk to, to share all the pent-up thoughts, yet at the same time, you didn’t want to see a single soul.
Hmmm, oddly enough, sitting there with elbows on knees, hands over your face, actually helped. You felt a slight warm breeze could the window be open? Or maybe it was just a draft, it was usually stuffy and humid in here. But who cared? Right now, for the first time, it was finally getting easier. Even if the reason didn’t matter, you weren’t going to shift just for a breeze. It really did help, as though the atmosphere itself grew lighter, the walls less oppressive, and your shoulders eased while the whirlwind of thoughts slowed down. It was almost pleasant soothing, even. The sharp scent of laundry detergent and stale chips faded, replaced by a gentle current of flow. And you could hear birds singing… Wait, what?! Birds? What were birds doing here in this weather, where usually only crows hung out by your window?
Snatching your hands away, you jolted. This wasn’t your room, this was a goddamn park! You stared at a tree across from you, trying to determine if it was real. Was it a hallucination, or were you just dreaming? Only now did you notice you were sitting on a bench. Running your fingers over the rough wood, catching bits of old paint on your fingertips, you confirmed it was real. You slowly turned, taking in the place around you. A winding path, green grass, tall trees of all kinds, birds hopping from branch to branch, blue skies, a pond in the distance, and people nearby feeding ducks. It was beautiful, sure, but seriously, what was going on? You were more surrounded with figuring out "how and why?" than with enjoying the scenery. Was there a logical explanation for any of this? The whirlwind of thoughts twisted into a dense knot, a mess you could hardly make sense of. You only snapped out of it when someone sat down beside you. Startled, you instinctively jumped back, nearly landing on a nearby trash can with someone’s still-smoldering cigarette butt inside.
- “Whoo! Hey, take it easy, it’s just me.” - Your eyes widened as you froze, possibly in the most awkward pose, gripping the bench’s edge and lifting one leg in mid-fall. But that was the least of your concerns now. - “You’re a jumpy one, aren’t ya?”
- “…Peter?” - His face briefly twisted in displeasure at the mention of that hated name but quickly shifted to shock. He was clearly as bewildered as you were by what had just happened. Shaking his head as if blaming a glitch or his own malfunction, he decided to continue.
- “So… Are you waiting for a family member, or a friends?” - He shuffled closer, edging in slightly.
- “What the… hell?” - was all you could manage, staring at him in disbelief. It was him—definitely him. The same blue eyes, blue sweater, vest, sharp teeth. His face grew just as astonished; your words seemed to startle him.
- “It’s just seems kind of odd for you to be sitting here, all alone like this, and so far away from the jogging track” - He continued awkwardly, sticking to his script. The last words sounded uncertain as he looked away. But he quickly turned back when you plopped back down on the bench, returning to your previous posture.
- “Peter, I’m not Y/N! I’m not her, not at all!” - This was definitely the point of no return.
- “How… did you break out of the standard dialogue?” - His pupils shrank, darting across your face as if searching for answers. He gripped the edges of the bench, his shoulders tense, clearly on edge. But mustering all his willpower, he made a last-ditch attempt to put things back to "normal." - “I mean, you don’t look like…"
- “Peter, listen to me!” - You leaned toward him, turning fully in his direction and pulling one knee up. - “This isn’t her! I mean, I’m a player! A real person! The one usually on the other side of the screen!” - You raised a hand, gesturing somewhere toward the sky, meaning beyond the game.
He froze, absolutely speechless. The information was so incomprehensible that it seemed more like a virus or glitch than reality.
- “Do you hear me or not?” - You straightened up, looking him over. - “You were surprised that I broke from the dialogue, right? So, believe me!”
He needed a moment, and then shock washed over him completely. How many times had he been here, repeating the same lines, yet this had never happened It was terrifying what were they supposed to do now? Why was she here? Just… how?
- “So, you’re… real?” - His question was hesitant, almost scared, as if he feared the answer.
- “Right” - You sagged, your tense shoulders dropping as you looked away. - “And I don’t understand what I’m supposed to do…”
You covered your face with your hands again, hoping that maybe this would somehow bring you back to your room. But of course, you still felt the breeze and heard birds singing. You sensed him move closer, almost certain he wanted to put a hand on your back, but he hesitated.
- “Look, I don’t know why I ended up here, or how. But you know the game, right? You know it better than anyone.” - You looked up, filled with hope. He was about to answer, but you cut him off. - “I know almost everything about you. I know who you are and what exactly you do. But there’s no one else I can turn to. You’re the only one who might be able to help.”
- “Listen to me.” - Taking a decisive step, he gently took your hand in his, as if even the slightest touch might make you break apart. His heart leapt at the realization that he was holding you, but he quickly suppressed his internal reaction, focusing only on you. He noticed tears beginning to well up in your eyes, which hurt to see, but he held himself together. - “Neither of us understands what’s going on. Honestly, I don’t even know where to start looking for answers. But I promise I’ll do whatever it takes, even dig through the core code, to figure this out. Deal?” - He was just as afraid, as lost as you, but he knew you needed him now more than ever, and he was the only one who could help. Could he really say no to you?
- “…Alright.” - You responded hesitantly, glancing down at your hand in his. As soon as he noticed, he pulled his hand back, stepping up in one quick motion.
- “Now let’s go, I’ll show you where your apartment is and how to get there.” - He had been about to offer his hand but stopped, worried that his pushiness might frighten you even more in this situation.
You nodded slightly, standing up. Seeing him turn toward the path, you followed. All you could think about was the situation you were in. You believed, or maybe just hoped, that this was some kind of nightmare. A bad dream that would end as soon as you woke up… but that wasn’t happening. You were trembling, so lost and scared that all you wanted was to fall to your knees on the cold park sidewalk and scream, praying this would all vanish and you’d see your room again. You didn’t understand, or maybe didn’t want to understand, why you were here. Did it have a reason, some kind of grand purpose? Honestly, who cares? You’d be called selfish, but all you could think about was that the higher power that dragged you here would set you free itself. The pressure from this storm of thoughts and pressure in your temples made you want nothing more than to lie down on the cold stone path.
- “This is the end of the park.” - His calm voice broke through your thoughts, like a cold shower after a strong wine sobered you up for a second. Your companion was walking beside you quietly, not saying a word, but you hadn’t noticed how he’d kept casting worried glances your way. You followed his gaze toward the large iron gates where the path ended.
- “And beyond… the city?” - You felt a lump in your throat; breathing became difficult, and nausea crept up. You wanted to believe this wasn’t real and hoped for confirmation that this was just the end of the game, that you’d finally be free.
- “Yes.” - He replied shortly, still walking slowly with his hands in his pockets. Reluctantly, you continued following him. - “So, you’ve played before, right?” - Perhaps it wasn't the most unsuccessful attempt to start a dialogue, but he just couldn't look at how tense you were and decided to make an attempt to distract you by going out on the sidewalk and walking along the iron fence, now the park was on the side.
- “Yes... “ - You answered, as if reminding yourself again that this is just a game and maybe you are unreal here too. This thought even calmed me down a little.
- “And... “ - He started to say, but you caught his thought.
- “There were not the best outcomes“– You shrugged, looking away – “Although, the last time I overplayed, everything seemed to be fine. “
- “Is that so…?“ - He felt terribly awkward knowing you’d seen him at his worst, unable to change it. Scratching the back of his head, he looked away, focusing somewhere among the clouds, feeling a sharp sting of shame.
Just then, your gaze landed on a familiar place, a flower shop on the other side of the busy road, lining the sidewalk. You remembered it perfectly. This is where Peter faced his first rejection. You’d run into him there by chance, and you had a choice: either give him a chance, nickname him, and get a rose, or call him a stalker and quickly leave him standing there, in complete disappointment and with a bloody hand.
The little store seemed somehow empty, detached even. The bright signs and flowers in the window didn’t quite fit with the cracks in the building's walls. Yet, there was a certain charm, a blend of beauty and decay, even a bit of symbolism. The place was deserted now, likely closed for the evening. It wasn’t surprising; it was getting dark, and the workday had probably ended early because of the holiday. It was amusing to see the place in real life, but still, the pull of home was stronger. So, you focused on moving forward, ignoring the surroundings.
- “Just so you know, I didn’t do any of that by choice. “ - You turned toward him, and he glanced at you, then quickly looked
- “What are you talking about? “ - You asked, raising an eyebrow.
- “You see, this place is way more complicated than it appears to players…“ - He started explaining, but the awkwardness was overwhelming, and his voice grew softer. - “Sorry… I’m probably just making things worse and overloading you with unnecessary information“
- “Actually, I think I could use the distraction on our way“ - You replied calmly, barely glancing his way, hearing a quiet, surprised gasp. - “And… I am a bit curious. “
- “Oh, really? I’m so glad to Dar…“ - He clasped his hands, then noticed your surprised look and cleared his throat loudly, reminding himself to break the habit of calling you that way. Coughing a few times, he began explaining slowly. - “You see, only the characters who are meant to interact with the player know this is a game. For everyone else, the ‘extras,’ so to speak, it’s just an ordinary world, their home. You only see parts of it, but on this side of the screen, it’s a real city with homes, shops, schools, and so on. “
- “So, you mean all of them“- You gestured toward a few random passersby across the road -“Are just regular residents? People who were born here, grew up here, and live here? “
- “Well, maybe some of them moved here, but yeah, pretty much“ - He replied, awkwardly scratching his head, carefully choosing his words for a more detailed yet simple explanation.
- “Moved here? So, there are other cities?“ - That made you stop, and Peter turned to look at you.
- “Yes, and there are many. But we, the game characters, can’t leave because of our ‘roles’. “ - He made air quotes, rolling his eyes and briefly thinking of Fuboo, while you listened closely, not interrupting. - “As I said, these people are just regular residents. But for us, life started here with the creation of the game. We have pasts, pre-loaded into our code as memories. We didn’t live those moments, we were simply told who we are and what we’ve been through. “
- “Ugh, my head is cracking“ - You held both sides of your head, trying to process the information he’d given. - “Alright, but can you do anything of your own will? “
- “Hmm, it’s hard to say. “ - He hesitated, gazing up at the nearly dark sky. “We’re characters created by someone else. We didn’t choose who we are; we were programmed this way. We follow a written script because we practically can’t act otherwise. “ - He noticed your curious, slightly sad look, realizing how much his explanation had moved you. - “Well, outside the player’s view, we have a bit of free will and can spend that time as we wish. Some things they programmed into me, I genuinely enjoy. I do love cheesecake, horror movies, and stuff like that… But I just want you to know that all those times when I was… awful, I didn’t want to be like that… I didn’t want it…“
He slumped, his blue eyes seemed dimmer. It was like a confession, airing out all his sins. But maybe he just needed to get it off his chest. Who could he talk to? The player? No, he had to play his role around them. Other characters? He doubted they had close bonds. Every time the player chose the wrong path out of ignorance or curiosity, he suffered. It hurt him. He hated doing those things but couldn’t resist the code, which only fueled his growing self-loathing. Why did they make him that way…?
- “And here we are! “ - His cheerful tone snapped you out of your trance, and you looked at his smile. He’d switched his mood so quickly, a skill likely honed by years of having to change emotions on cue. - “Your apartments on the first floor; I’ll show you. “
He walked briskly toward a well-lit, relatively new apartment building with thick shrubs growing under the windows, almost reaching the lower frames. There were also a few trees, giving the place a sense of safety and seclusion from the city. He was moving so fast you had to pick up your pace to catch up, using it as a way to hide his awkwardness about knowing so much about Y/N and his stalker-like behavior.
- “This place is bigger than I imagined.“ - You looked up at the five-story building and then entered the building itself. - “And the area has an unusual feel to it. “
- “Yeah, there are quite a few other tenants here, too. “ - He calmly passed a couple of doors, narrowly avoiding a trash bag left by one of them, someone likely planned to take it out in the morning and pointed at your door with his thumb. - “This one’s yours.
- “Oh, thanks. “ - You approached it slowly, reluctantly. Pulling the handle, you opened the door, but you didn’t feel like looking inside. You were still waiting for the ending.
- “You have a shift tomorrow. “ - He began hesitantly, shifting on his feet. - “I could come by, show you where you work, and go over a few basic rules, just in case…“
- “Honestly, I hope that when I wake up tomorrow, this will all turn out to be a nightmare. “ - You tilted your head, not wanting to reveal the tears pooling in your eyes.
- “If the game resets as usual, I’ll be glad“ - He said with genuine concern, but smiled slightly, trying to reassure you with hope for the best. - “If not, I’ll still come by…“
- “Deal. “ - You opened the door wider, putting a foot over the threshold. You glanced back at Peter, planning to say something but realizing there was nothing to say. He understood, already turning to leave. After a few steps, you called him unexpectedly. - “Peter…“
- “Yes? “ - He turned fully, reacting to your call.
- “Promise me you won’t hurt anyone while I’m here “ - For the first time that evening, he saw not fear or sadness in your eyes, but determination and resilience.
His shoulders slumped and there was so much pain in his heart. Despite his confession, you still saw him as the very person he least wanted to be. But he couldn’t blame you; he fully understood your concern.
- “I promise.“ - He smiled slightly, trying to comfort you, then added, “Goodnight. “ - You nodded and fully stepped into the apartment, closing the door.
Only now could you see the space around you. It was exactly as you’d been shown before: a small kitchen on the right, separated from the living room by an island that resembled a bar counter, a spacious living room with a couch perfectly centered in front of the TV, and two identical doors along the wall Lucy’s at the far end and Y/N closer.
You reached for the handle but pulled your hand back as if burned, unwilling to accept this world as real. You hated that you could do nothing, despised your own helplessness, and were angry at your fucking cowardice. With a sudden movement, you forced yourself to open the door, quickly shutting it behind you, and took in the sight of that familiar room. Only a bedside lamp illuminated the space, and the scattered items convinced you that someone truly lived here.
Unable to stand it, you tilted your head back against the door, slowly sliding down until you sat with your knees pulled to your chest, covering your face. How long did you sit there? You couldn’t say—somewhere between five minutes and two hours, maybe. Your head was buzzing, on the verge of bursting; the lump in your throat refused to ease, and you felt icy from the intense stress.
After forcing yourself to stand, almost stumbling and clutching the door handle, you staggered to the bed and collapsed onto it, drained. Glancing around the room once more, you ran your hand over the soft but wrinkled, clearly long-unwashed sheet, convincing yourself that all of this was real. But you had no strength to fear or deny it; there was only one thing you wanted now. Crawling fully onto the bed, you reached for the lamp, turning off the light and plunging the room into near total darkness. Only a faint glow from distant streetlights showed through the window. Without even removing your clothes, you lay down. For two seconds, you stared at the ceiling; then, turning onto your side, you curled into a fetal position, hugging yourself tightly as quiet tears began to flow. You felt a damp spot form beneath your face, an unpleasant sting in your nose, and a terrible pressure in your chest, forcing you to breathe through your mouth at times. But you couldn’t stop, and only soft sobs broke the silence. Out of despair, you started whispering the names of your loved ones, those dearest to you. It was like calling to them, begging them to hear and guide you. You repeated the names in order, then randomly, even saying some names several times. Exhaustion overcame you, your eyes grew heavy, and your vision blurred, until at last, you drifted off.
*****
Peter briskly left the building, hoping Don wouldn’t spot him and start asking unnecessary questions, and then he stopped on the path not far from your home. The street was already dark; streetlights shone, stars were visible above, and a cool night breeze wafted from the side. In the distance, dogs barked. He took a deep breath, relaxing his muscles, letting his shoulders drop, and… gave himself a solid slap, one so sharp it sent a jolt through his teeth and a throb to his temple.
He couldn’t believe it, his conscience had been haunting him the entire way, and only now was he able to give himself what he deserved. He couldn’t stop feeling disgusted with himself, mentally cursing with every harsh word he could think of.
During your time together, he genuinely sympathized with you, wracked his brain trying to find ways to help, trying to distract and reassure you, to find where to even start. But at some point, he realized that somewhere deep down, in the far recesses of his mind, he dared to think he was glad. For so many years, he had suffered, dreaming of meeting a real player, replaying these scenarios, imagining, fantasizing and then it actually happened.
- “You fucking bastard!” - He hissed to himself, biting his own hand hard enough to draw blood in an effort to suppress his anger and knock that filth out of his thick skull.
How could he have even dared to think there was anything good in this? You were in pain, you were lost, like a wounded animal searching for help, and here he was, vile enough to find some upside to this turn of events. He had never felt such overwhelming anger; he was ready to kill himself, but realizing that wasn’t a solution, he stopped.
His fangs slowly retracted, red blood dripping onto the ground, mixing with the sand and turning into mud. Perhaps this scene would frighten and intrigue any young people out walking at night, sparking dark theories in their games of who could scare whom the most. But he didn’t care, even if the police found the area suspicious.
He had never hated himself this much before. He was a loathsome creature, thinking only of his selfish gain instead of others. The mere thought of being himself made him sick.
Forcing himself, he looked up at the stars again. Tonight, he made you a promise, and in the same breath, he made you a second one you would never hear. He would get to the truth, try every impossible method, and even break his own code if it meant helping you.
After this, he turned and slowly disappeared into the night along the sidewalk, heading home. He had a long night ahead, full of investigations and complex puzzles to solve, while you could sleep in peace…