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The happiest ones are the saddest ones, they say.
Crossroads is a bustling place in the Inpherno where the lives of many Inphernals are seen. In the heart of the Crossroad, an exciting event took place: the Phights. The exciting battles between Phighters, whether faction or factionless, with the occasional Phestivals led by two Inphernals that also hosted the entire show of entertainment: Valk and Dom, also known as the idol group: Flipside.
“See you on the Flipside!”
That one little motto or quote of their two person idol group is enough to make fans scream with excitement, especially before or after one of their showstopping performances. Valk had the highest notes no other demon could reach, and Dom had structured out the smoothest bars to drop onto the wowed audience. Valk was mainly responsible for the rest of their music production and collabs, while Dom takes care of designing their stage costumes and decorating for the Phestivals.
As much as their fame brings them joy, the fans will never understand the struggle behind the scenes. Not just about being overworked with live performances and recordings, air after air. Not just about being stressed and pressured over creating a new song. Not just about brainstorming ideas for the Phestivals. In fact, it was none of that. They enjoyed the process in each and every single activity. Their true problems lie deeply in the roots of their past.
As young spawnlings, their ears stung from the bickers and fights from their parents. Valk, who was the older of the two, would wonder: why bother making them exist if you’d fight over it in the end anyway? He remembered the days where he and Dom would sit on the mattress of lower bunk bed in their childhood bedroom. 11 year old Valk would plug in earphones into a 10 year old Dom’s ears during a tough summer where they had to avoid the fights between their parents. They were still too young to hear all this.
“Here, I’ve got a bunch of cool songs I found made by really cool idols!” Valk, whose real name is Microphone, showed his song playlist on his phone. Dom, A.K.A Megaphone, would look at it for a while and end up playing the same calm piano melody he enjoyed the most.
Mic walked over to the door and pressed his ear against it to hear loud shatters of wine bottles and screams of agony, anger and fear. The wings on his back drooped, as he returned with a sad smile on his face. Meg looked up from the phone and turned to his older brother.
“…Are they done?” Megaphone would ask. The same question repeated in Microphone’s mind many times. They would never be.
“Soon,” he said, forcing a smile to cheer up his younger brother. “One day, I promise. I promise we don’t have to be with them anymore, and I promise to take good care of you.”
“I promise too,” Meg said as a small smile formed on his lips. He held up a pinkie to the yellow demon. The older smiled back — with true genuine feelings this time — and intertwined his pinkie with his fellow other half, in birth and in blood. On that day, even if it felt like any other, a silent yet simple promise was made.
And Valk felt like he broke that promise. He felt like he broke it after seeing Dom all injured, eye and wing ripped off. Why didn’t he swoop in to help Dom? Why did he freeze? Why didn’t he push his brother away so he would have his limbs ripped from his very own body, just so Dom could be happier?
Valk’s breath hitched, snapping him back to reality. He found himself in the Flipside Tower, preparing for the next round of Phights. Dom wasn’t around, probably off to get some snacks before the show. The rest of the crew wasn’t in the recording studio yet. Right, he was always early for these things.
He clutched his script, the paper crumpling under his grasp. He had pushed the thought of their past down for so long that the moment the memory came rushing back, it swept over him like a high speed train. He had always compressed the thought with his cheerful attitude, but the memory refused to be forgotten. He didn’t even know why he suddenly thought about it. Maybe looking at Dom’s missing eye and wing made him wonder what happened to it. He wished he didn’t wonder. He wished he just assumed that Dom always looked like that.
He took a deep breath. One, two, three. He bit his lips, preventing tears to stream down his face. He can’t be hyperventilating now. Not when he has to host a round. He can sob in solitude alone in his room once it’s all over. Then he can deal with it alone. Him and himself only. He’s the older one— he should be responsible for himself.
He perked up, chin lifted off the table upon hearing familiar footsteps entering the studio. A purple hooded figure with protruding horns walked into the studio. The name registered in Valk’s mind was Dom.
“Hey there!” He cheerfully said, as if he hadn’t nearly broken down just a moment ago. “Are the phighters ready down there?”
“Ready as they’ll ever be,” Dom nonchalantly responded.
“Good! We’re all set for the final round of the day! It’s a special 66x conquer round in Iron Cafe, with a possible chance of overtime coming with a multi-sword gift from me, you, grandaddy’o and Darkheart!” He recited the soon to occur events, tossing his recently spawned microphone up in the air and catching it again. Valk had spoken so fast — likely out of sheer nervousness and a hint of panic — that Dom blinked his single eye in response.
“Sorry, run it by me again?” Dom said, confusion clear in his deep voice.
“N-nah, it’s fine, I’ll announce it this time, just follow your script per usual,” Valk smiled. “Just remember, we’re doing a little collab with the SFOTH. We even get to do it with grandpops! Well- we don’t actually get to see him- but- today’s round is sure to be exciting!” He could tell his smile looked forced. But if no one noticed, he wasn’t going to point it out either.
He looked down at the petite Iron Cafe they used to perform in during their early debut days. The Phighters from both teams were preparing. He took a deep breath. Just do this like how you normally do.
“Hello everyone! welcome back to the final round of today’s Phights, where we introduce a special 66x conquer round to end the night off with a blast at the one and only: Iron Cafe!”
***
Valk sat on his bed later that night, his glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. The final round went smoothly, and the red team ended up winning the big load of bux. For the details on who was on that team, he didn’t care. Not when he suddenly had a million thoughts racing through his mind like how the airport plane would randomly land in the middle of the phight and knock out some of the phighters. Yeah, that was his brain right now.
He looked at his wings. His stupid yellow wings that almost looked golden. As if it was telling him the wings were a blessing. Ohoho, no, it wasn’t. At least to Valk. To him, it was some kind of unforgivable curse now that he thought about it. What are wings for when they are too small to fly with?
Maybe, just maybe, if Valk had protected Dom, or even sacrificed an eye and a wing, they wouldn’t be doomed on the damned ground. Sure, Valk would still be unable to fly, but Dom could — his wings would’ve and should’ve been big enough to carry both himself and Valk through the sky. Valk wishes he could experience that someday, but he knew it was never going to happen.
Silent tears began to trail down his face. He could feel the cold drops of tears against his cheeks. He wiped them away and bit his lips, refusing to let anymore tears rain down from his eyes. He can’t be like this. He swore to protect Dom, and that’s the last thing he will do in his phucking life.
He buried his face into his pillow, his body entirely flopping onto his bed. The pillowcase was now a bit damp, but he didn’t care. As long as he can stop sobbing. He turned his head to a picture on his nightstand, where it displayed him and Dom proudly standing together on their debut day, smiles that beamed as bright as the sun. Valk however, felt like shit right now.
He hated himself for not being able to completely protect his brother from trauma, and he hates himself for carrying cursed wings. He suddenly didn’t want them anymore. Sure, having wings did seem cool when he was young, but reality came crashing down on him: it was useless. “ Useless phucking piece of shi- “
Valk clamped his mouth, realizing what he had suddenly said subconsciously. Forget about all this, he told himself. He just needs to go to bed, and everything will totally return to normal the next day.
Spoiler Alert: it did not. 1 a.m. and his body refused to give into sleep. Not when there’s a billion intrusive thoughts coming in like an endless train in his mind right now. He knew he wouldn’t find peace when he keeps hating on himself.
And how would you stop hating yourself? By eradicating the cause, of course, the voices yelled. Valk turned his head to his wings. A mix of anger, sadness, bitterness and guilt all at once blended into a smoothie of regret in his mind. Yeah, this is how he’s gonna get out of this issue. Wings are fragile in their most vulnerable spots, are they not?
His hands slithered up to his right wing, feeling the wing flap. His claws were threatening to rip open that wing. It was almost tempting; it could simply rip apart like a piece of paper. He wanted to do it. So why couldn’t he? Some part of him wanted to do it so bad — eradicating his worries and hate for himself. On the other hand, he didn’t want to feel pain. But he still felt guilty.
It felt conflicting. And for once in his life, he delved into a sob of cries. He never thought he would reach this breaking point — not since the time he couldn’t save Dom’s eye and wing. He’s always been seen as the happy, yappy, sort of petty to the public, but also his personal life. He never knew that he would end up here, crying with everything he had after the guilt lingering at the back of his head finally made it to the frontlines of his brain.
Of course, the cries would alert the only other person in the house: Dom. The purple demon was suddenly awoken by the noise, and shivered in fear for a moment, his bedridden mind thinking it was some wild rabid animal. But after registering the voice, he knew better. It was just weird hearing that voice doing this . He never really heard — or remembered — Valk crying before. His bare feet quickly padded down the silent hallways, only the sobs off a distant voice guiding him to a familiar bedroom.
“Mic,” he spoke firmly outside the door. He could hear a breath hitch, a hiccup, followed by more sobs. “Mic!” With two unsuccessful and unanswered attempts, Dom took a deep breath and took the door handle, pushing it down and immediately attempting to swing open the door. Rapid footsteps suddenly approached the door and jammed it from the other side. Dom frowned, knowing that Valk obviously didn’t want to see him in this state.
They had a little battle at the door; Dom trying to get in, Valk trying to push him away. Dom was surprised at the little demon’s strength, wondering where he got it from (as if Valk wasn’t the one who had to carry an unconscious Dom from their parents’ house all the way to the hospital when Dom got badly injured). Valk was yelling non-sensible things behind sobs that Dom assumed the demon himself isn’t even registering he was yelling it.
Eventually though, natural genes won over as the taller was finally able to push open the door. Valk was knocked back, his trembling body stumbled backwards, foot tripped over the other as his bottom hit the floor. Valk didn’t want to make eye contact. As if Dom wasn’t there, he returned to the same sitting position he was on: the side of the bed, legs dangling off the edge, head in hands.
“Why- how-“ Dom muttered to himself. He was normally the one having anxiety attacks and traumatic flashbacks. Not Valk. It was an unusual night. He sat next to the shorter demon, arm quickly wrapping around Valk as a brotherly instinct. Dom waved a hand in front of Valk’s face. “Hey, you there? I’ll need some explaining he-“
Unexpectedly, Valk turned around and buried his head into Dom’s chest, fingers digging into the shoulders of the taller. Another burst of a cry released. Dom sighed, thinking about how disgusting his pajamas would be covered in mucus and tears once Valk would stop, but for now it wasn’t a thing to worry about. He patted his older brother on the head, tracing down to his back, hoping it’ll soothe Valk. Dom was nothing but confused; he’s never really been good at emotionally supporting before.
He’s been having a breakdown of his own too.
***
They were visiting a demon nicknamed The Dollmaker, an infamous demon known for making dolls near one’s coming of age — or per request. Luckily, neither of the Flipside brothers were going to pass away, unless if they get into some kind of car accident, really.
The bell over the door rang as the door slowly creaked open, revealing the inside to be an antique place, almost like a summoning circle location for a secret cult… or something. Whatever it is, the entertainment uniforms of Valk and Dom didn’t look like it fitted the environment. A figure with bandages all over their face approached, making the two shudder. Three dolls that looked magically controlled like puppets walked over to the demon’s side.
“Hello, I’m Folly.”
“I’m Tragedy…”
“I’m Fury!”
“This is the one and only, The Dollmaker!” The three dolls spoke in unison. Valk gripped onto his brother’s sleeve, squinting with fear and suspicion towards the dolls. “This place scares me. Why the hell did we decide to go here?!” Dom gave a roll of an eye.
“Come on, we didn’t commission those dolls for nothing,” the taller sighed as he pulled out a wallet from his pocket. He took out a stack of paper money and held it towards The Dollmaker, which the latter happily accepted. A doll — Folly — jumped onto The Dollmaker’s head with excitement, looking at the bills, as if it had its own life. Dom looked back at Valk and continued. “Besides, this looks a bit like a fortune teller thing too. Sounds interesting.”
“Never knew you were interested in ghouls. Maybe I should’ve told Ghostwalker that you’d take the Possessed team for that one Phestival we hosted.”
“That’s not what I meant-“
“Lol.”
“Ahem,” the doll on the maker’s head coughed out, gaining the attention of the idols. “Thank you for the pay. In return, as requested, we will retrieve your requested dolls and explain the process. Sit down over at that couch, we’ll get your dolls. Then we can chat.”
The Dollmaker shuffled over to a corner of the shop as Valk and Dom made through one hell of a tiny maze to reach the couch. Maybe this dollmaker really needed to learn how to organize things.
The Dollmaker eventually returned to the two with two cute little dolls of the idols respectively. Valk snatched the one that looked like him, yelling “MINE!” and proceeded to squeeze the doll’s cheeks. The Dollmaker was slightly taken aback, but Dom reassured her and took his respective doll. he brought it up close to his face and inspected the little details as The Dollmaker sat at the rightmost edge of the couch, pleased at the faces of likely her most rich clients. Folly, Tragedy, and Fury followed and jumped onto the couch.
Fury popped over on Valk’s head and peered over his valkyrie item to look at the doll. “Master made you and your brother’s dolls with her first needle. Lucky.” Valk looked up, confused at what the doll said. “‘Scuse me?”
“First needle signifies good luck, fortune and health…” Tragedy spoke, having nestled on Dom’s shoulder. “Second represents bad luck and danger, a warning. Third represents rebirth; if a doll owner were to be deceased, master believes that they can possess the doll. It’s… unfortunately yet to happen.” Tragedy paused. Dom looked over at The Dollmaker’s back, seeing one, two, three… four needles.
“And…?” He looked at Tragedy who nestled next to his dominus on his head.
“Fourth is… death and decay,” Tragedy said with a sad tone. “Quite the tragedy indeed. It is said the owner will pass shortly after the doll’s creation.”
The room fell oddly silent. Valk hitched his breath for a moment.
“Ehh, master didn’t use that anyway,” Fury replied to Tragedy, flapping its arm. Valk released his tension. “Master mainly used the first one. Well- mostly.”
“You’re implying that she had used some other needle,” Dom inquired. This time, Folly was the one who jumped up to speak.
“Exactly! She used the second needle, specifically on both dolls’ wings, and this little guy’s missing eye,” the doll giggled a bit. Do these dolls actually have their own sentience?
“The Dollmaker prophesied of a day where they may get injured… or worse,” Tragedy quipped.
“Don’t tell me-“
“Does not necessarily mean it would be caused by others though,” Folly interrupted Valk, who was starting to look paler than he had already looked (how do you turn more pale than a white skintone? Literally?). “It can be caused by… one’s emotions.”
Dom was fixated on the eye scar of his doll. His thumb grazed across it. What he expected was one of the dolls to start randomly speaking to him again. Though correct, what he didn’t expect was The Dollmaker herself to slowly approach closer to Dom. A gentle hand brushed over to his right cheek and turned his attention and head towards the creator. A gaze of pity shone through The Dollmaker’s eye.
“She finds pity in you,” Folly mused.
“Scars of the eye are seen as a marking of deep trauma…” Tragedy explained.
“A never ending waterfall sorrow and/or guilt to that trauma,”Fury finished with a deadpan tone. Valk shuddered at the words. Dom would’ve too, but he was a bit paralyzed by the words to even express anything. Valk grabbed his brother’s hand, snapping the younger one back to reality.
“Very interesting prophecies you tell us, dear maker!” Valk rushed, a bead of cold sweat dripping down his forehead. “But I almost forgot! it’s almost time for our dance rehearsal for the next music video recording, you know, busy busy idol, all that. I’m so sorry to cut it short, but we must leave.” The Dollmaker seemed to buy it, as she kindly waved to the two rapidly approaching the door.
“See you soon!” The three dolls said in unison before they closed the door behind them.
Flipside never chose to go back afterwards.
***
The thought now lingered on Dom. Valk had reassured that those prophecies were definitely just things to throw the two of them off and weren’t true, but somehow, seeing everything, it was almost as if The Dollmaker had listed their names in something like a Death Note book. Except, instead of Death Note, it’s more of like “Anguish Note” or “Mentally and Emotionally Suffering Note”.
“It can be caused by one’s emotions”: Valk could’ve lost his wings if those thoughts took over.
“Scars of the eye are seen as a marking of deep trauma”: Dom feels it everyday, and occasionally cries over it as his thoughts tells him to shut up and stop being a baby.
Holy phuck, this genius of a fortune teller they booked a meeting with a year ago literally predicted the future. The near future, at least. Whatever this Dollmaker was, one thing was clear: she spelt out everything right before their eyes, whether they would believe it or not.
One was physically traumatized, the other mentally. Both were emotionally broken and used their idol lives to cope. But when it all comes crashing back down, what else were they supposed to do?
For now, they can only sit next to each other as they cry out shallow sobs, lost in one another’s embrace.
“Until then, we’ll keep playing pretend in the dollhouse until our owners are long gone and forgotten.”
Two flightless birds: one cursed, one ripped from its rights, sitting on a wire where their lives are balanced between life and death, rebirth and decay.