Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Back to another night attending one of their parent’s parties.

    Back to another night of making good impressions on everyone.

    Back to another night of being a big shot, being seen as a celebrity instead of an autonomous person.

    It wasn’t a new routine. If anything, Chance was used to all of it by now. Getting ready, practicing their smiles and laughs in the mirror, making sure they looked perfect and presentable for people they barely knew… God, it was exhausting.

    Sometimes the attention drove them insane. They didn’t really feel like everyone else. They felt like they were on top of the world, sure, but the euphoria from that ran out quickly. It was always interview after interview, drink after drink, small talk that blended into repetitiveness—all that for hours.

    They used to be good at this. It used to come to them naturally. They didn’t know what changed. Maybe they were burning out or needed a good change of pace. After all, this happened every single time they won yet another poker tournament. Couldn’t they just be rewarded with some time to themselves?

    And don’t even get them started on their outfit. They were fine with wearing suits, just— Jeez, did it have to be this tight? Since when was it this tight? They’d kill for something looser…

    Usually, they handled all of… this by themselves. They always closed up the event with a bang, saying good-byes and shooting a few grins here and there. Then, in their room, they’d be doing everything in their power to keep themselves together. They were never really alone, so they had to be quick with their emotional self-care. Who knows? At any moment, they could be called for something, and the pretending would have to start all over again.

    They sighed, shoving their hands in their pockets. “It’s not that bad, isn’t it, Isaac?” they exclaimed.

    The other man shrugged in response. “Sure.”

    That’s right. They had someone else with them now.

    Running into ITrapped was literally a miracle. Finally, a guy who saw them as they were and didn’t mix up their personality with their money. They just… clicked. From the moment they met. It felt like something straight out of a storybook—as cliché as it was to think.

    So a few months of their friendship passed by, and Chance invited him to the very party they were at right now. He asked if he could bring two others along, a few old friends of his. Who was Chance to decline? They might've been tired of talking to people for hours on end, but having Isaac along for the ride made it a little easier to bear.

    His friends, though. Ellernate and Caleb. They were. Um. Wanted criminals?? Apparently?? Or— previously wanted, at least. Something like that. A little worrying, sure, but Isaac assured them that they wouldn’t pull any stunt. They were free, but still on careful watch. 

    “Sorry about the guys,” Isaac mumbled. “I get that they're a little much. They're… not really good with first impressions.” He gestured vaguely to the men to his left. Their voices merged with the other partygoers, but Chance could tell they were enjoying themselves.

    “Huh? Oh— No, you're fine!” Chance exclaimed. “They, uh… They're definitely not something I've seen before.”

    “That's because you're so… coddled, as a celebrity. You don’t see a lot past the glamour," Isaac replied. There was truth in his words; Chance couldn't really deny any of that. “Come to where we stay? God, there's guys like them everywhere.”

    “You know you love us,” Ellernate interjected, eliciting a groan from ITrapped.

    Chance chuckled, tipping their fedora out of amusement. “Really? What makes them special, then?”

    ITrapped clicked his tongue. “Can't even remember,” he mumbled under his breath. “It’s a whole thing…”

    The faint beginnings of a stronger headache started to bloom. Dammit. Dehydration? Or stress? Maybe both. What time was it? They checked their watch—almost 99:45 pm. Strange. The grandfather clock shouldn’t be tolling yet… Oh well.

    ITrapped stood up from his seat beside Chance, the other two following suit. Ellernate whispered something to Caleb, glancing over at ITrapped and Chance. “Hey, so, uhhh…” Caleb paused, clearing his throat. “We have to, like. Um. Do a thing really quick. You don’t mind, right?”

    “Oh, not at all, don’t worry.” Chance’s head spun when they got to their feet. Okay… Dizziness wasn’t ideal, but they could still pull through. Probably. “I’ll still be here, haha!”

    “Thanks, man.” Caleb and Ellernate turned around without another word; ITrapped nodded before following behind them.

    Their headache got even worse now that Isaac was gone.

    Chance winced, running a hand down their face. Since when did they get so sweaty? They closed their eyes and shook their head, immediately regretting it when one side of their skull felt like it was lit on fire.

    Headaches sucked, that was obvious. But they could tough it out! It wasn’t anything they hadn’t done before. Even if that hurt to admit. They felt like they should at least be able to have time to themselves, and not focus on keeping up appearances. Would that be so hard?

    Ah, forget it. Back to the party they went. Small talk, timed laughs, a few pictures here and there—their usual. It got so repetitive so quickly, flashing the same smiles and answering the same questions. They had to stop themselves from grabbing more drinks, no matter how tempting it was. Last time they got drunk at one of these parties, they woke up with a hangover and an extensive lecture from their parents. Apparently they “made a fool of themselves”—not like they could remember it anyways.

    Talking was the only distraction they had, as tiring as it was. They were not in the right condition to do so, but they weren’t allowed to go up to their room until the party was over. Mid-conversation with one of their mother’s employees, a deep, resonating feeling of unease rippled through their head. They had to excuse themselves and walk away—they really needed a breather.

    This was reaching levels of discomfort they couldn’t handle anymore. Maybe they could find their parents and ask if they could go into their room for a moment—

    Something snapped in the back of their mind. Their breathing stuttered. The chatter of the party turned into monotonous static—a relentless, persistent buzzing that got louder and louder by the second. Their footing faltered. It was difficult to move, and it didn’t help that the floor was folding in on itself. And the walls were too. Their surroundings warped, colors and shapes becoming an unidentifiable blur, but the only colors they could make out were red and black. There was a worrying amount of it, swirling together in borderline hypnotizing patterns.

    Their mind felt like it was breaking. Shattering, even. They couldn’t think straight. God, they could only imagine how much of a mess they looked. Were they fainting? Hallucinating?  The tolls they were hearing overrode the static, becoming more prominent with each one that rang out. They felt lightheaded. They couldn’t hear anything past the bells and the quick, intense pounding of their tortured heart.

    The floor gave out beneath them. They stumbled, and the patterns seemed to swallow them whole.

The party wasn’t too bad. A bit annoying he had to dress up for someone he was going to cut ties with anyways, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

    Chance wasn’t the brightest person. They were extremely trusting. Probably attention starved, or at least lacked a real friend at any point in their life. And then ITrapped himself came into the picture. He played along, acting like their closest friend. Even though, in reality, he never saw them as anything more than a pawn.

    Yet he still sat beside them. Followed them. Let them lead him. Let them trust him.

    “That's because you're so… coddled, as a celebrity. You don’t see a lot past the glamour," he spat. Spoiled. That’s what Chance was. Though as a celebrity since day one, they couldn’t really help it. They probably had cameras on them before they knew how to walk. “Come to where we stay? God, there's guys like them everywhere.”

    “You know you love us,” Ellernate interjected teasingly. ITrapped groaned. Right. The other two idiots photobombed, too.

    They weren’t supposed to be an active part of the plan. If anything, ITrapped was in charge of getting what they wanted—money, Limiteds, and maybe even the key to the Banlands just in case. But Ellernate claimed that ITrapped was taking too long, and insisted on coming along. Caleb just followed Ellernate. ITrapped couldn’t talk either of them out of it.

    Chance chuckled, tipping their fedora out of amusement. “Really? What makes them special, then?”

    Well, they were his partners in crime. From high school, to that whole thing in May all those years ago, to now. He broke them out of jail. Bribed authority figures and certain admins with money and devastating blackmail from years ago in order to keep them out. Even if it backfired, it didn't matter. They'd still find loopholes to get each other out.

    But he wasn’t about to admit all of that, was he? ITrapped clicked his tongue. “Can't even remember,” he mumbled under his breath. “It’s a whole thing…”

    His head was starting to hurt. And— Those were bells ringing in the distance.

    Oh hell no. Now? In front of Chance, surrounded by God knows how many people?

    He took advantage of the moment of silence, jabbing his elbow into Ellernate’s side to get his attention. Before the other had a chance to retaliate, he forced the words out of his throat. “The bells are tolling again,” he spat hurriedly. He knew he only had about two minutes before he was forsaken. “We have to go. Now.”

    Ellernate stared at him incredulously. “You’re kidding??” he whispered back. ITrapped took a moment to breathe. He wished he was kidding. The first rounds of the week were always hard to handle.

    ITrapped stood from his seat, willing himself to stay upright. Nate pulled Caleb up by the back of his shirt, relaying the information to him right before he spoke. He glanced at ITrapped, then Chance.

    “Hey, so, uhhh…” Caleb paused, clearing his throat. “We have to, like. Um. Do a thing really quick.” Real smooth, Caleb. Real smooth. “You don’t mind, right?”

    “Oh, not at all, don’t worry.” Chance stood up beside ITrapped. They were shaking. “I’ll still be here, haha!” There was a slight waver in their voice.

    “Thanks, man.” Caleb and Ellernate turned around without another word. ITrapped gave Chance one last nod as a farewell, before turning and immediately dropping the calm facade.

    He let out a harsh breath, clenching his fists at his sides. This could not be happening. Ellernate winced in sympathy. “Jeez, Trappy,” he mumbled. “This is still going on?”

    “I hate it as much as you do,” ITrapped spat.

    “We gotta find somewhere, like, quiet,” Caleb exclaimed, grabbing ITrapped’s hand and dragging him forward. “Or at least with fewer people. Y’know how weird it’d be if someone saw you disappear out of thin air?”

    ITrapped rolled his eyes, shaking off Caleb’s hand. His arms felt like they were buzzing, tingling sensations clashing against the numbness of his frostbitten fingers. How long did he have left? Maybe a minute and some excess change? With how large Chance’s estate was, and with how many people at the party, it was difficult to figure out where and when they’d find a secluded place.

    As the seconds slipped past, it was getting more difficult to think straight. Or move straight, for that matter. He couldn’t really focus, but he had a feeling he was still walking because Ellernate and Caleb were dragging him along. They were calling out to him, probably. He’d reply if he could speak or even hear them in the first place.

    The shadows blended together, and depth was no longer perceivable. He was definitely running out of time. His mind was spinning, hitting the edges of his skull and sending bursts of pain across his head. The walls, once seen as unflawed, now had blood seeping from their pools of darkness like crimson ink. He couldn’t remember much right now, but the stark familiarity of the visuals made his heart rate spike.

    Something inside his chest twisted, as if moving with the silhouettes around them. His throat constricted, his breathing stuttered. His eyes were locked on the ever-changing swirls of dread in front of him.

    His body tensed as the patterns invaded his mind, his heart, his soul.

Chapter Text

Chance awoke from a dream. Or had their dream just begun?

    They were propped up against the wall, right beside a set of stairs. Their head spun, their body hurt… They found it hard to think straight.

    But they knew this wasn't their room, or anywhere near their estate. The air smelled of natural pine and burnt wood instead of green apple cleanser and orange-blossom detergent. All of it felt… wrong. Artificial. Crafted in a way that seemed real, but tangibly skewed.

    When they could feel their legs again, they pushed themselves off the wall, holding it for support. Their breath came in shaky bursts, and… wait, had their clothes changed?

    They looked down at their form and barely held back a gasp. They were wearing the most beautiful silk dress, adorned with a soft white trim. It wasn't tight-fitting or uncomfortable; it didn't stick to their skin or anything. Matching gloves were on their hands; a pearl necklace was clasped around their neck. Their fedora was red with the same white trim, a bow in the front and two cards on the side. They pulled them out—two of diamonds and the ace of hearts.

    They tucked the cards back into the trim. Just seeing their outfit was enough to set their mind straight. This was… This was amazing.

    Chance knew they were in a cabin of some sort. Where? They couldn't really tell. The faint strips of moonlight poured through the windows. They stepped down to the main floor, hearing chatter in a separate room. So other people were here… Well, that was good. They could ask a few questions, try to discern where they were and why they came.

    They turned into a room with a few tables pushed against the walls and a small stage in the left corner. A chalkboard was hung on the wall, empty save for some small doodles and a few faded messages. There were people they didn't recognize and people everyone would recognize (was that Builderman???), but one face stood out against the small crowd.

    “Isaac?!” They perked up, running to the man as he turned to face them. He didn't look as excited to see them as they were to see him. But that was a normal thing. “Hey! What're you— Why are we here? How did we even get here? Who picked out my outfit— And yours! You look like a knight! Who picked these out? Was it you? Ahaha, I know it was you!” The questions spilled out of their mouth, eagerness and thinly-veiled confusion overriding any form of logical thought.

    “Did my parents set this up? I feel like they—”

    “Why are you here.”

    The bitterness in ITrapped’s tone diverted their attention to him instead of their thoughts. Their face fell almost immediately. There was something in his eyes that burned. Something that they couldn’t read.

    “Haha, that’s— That’s why I asked…!” they exclaimed hesitantly. Unease spread in their chest, a cold feeling they could easily mask with the warmth of their laughter.

    ITrapped didn’t reply, resorting to staring daggers at Chance. His body was tense as if he was about to snap at them for speaking. But he relaxed, a soft sigh escaping him. “Yeah,” he mumbled quietly. “Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “I just… Ah, nevermind.

    “And about where we are. It's… It's complicated. I don't exactly know where this is, but I've been here a few times before.” He mumbled under his breath. “Doesn't get any easier.”

    “You've… You've been here before? Then why don't you—”

    “Look, there's a lot I don't know how to explain, okay?” ITrapped admitted. “But everyone else here got here the same way. Terrible headache, passing out, and waking up in this same cabin. Happens every time.

    “If you’re here now… Well, you might come back.” He noted Chance’s wide-eyed expression, and paused. “Yeah. I don’t even know where this is. Builderman”—he gestured to the CEO standing a few feet away—“can’t even figure that out.”

    Okay, okay. Quick recap. So they were going to have to come back here… wherever “here” was. Were the headaches really necessary? This definitely could happen at inconvenient times, considering their previous situation.

    God, this was a lot.

    The questions they had could never leave their lips, for those same bells began to ring again. Not just distantly, no—the moment the first toll sounded, there was a noticeable, mutual tension filling the gaps of silence. They might have not fully known what was going on, but they had a feeling they were in over their head.

    That same red and black pattern enveloped their vision quicker this time, encompassing their shaken form and seeping into the cracks of their mind. Reality—or fantasy?—was torn apart once more, and they dropped into somewhere much different…

The night sky was like construction paper, and the stars were tiny holes crudely poked through. And in a way, maybe Chance was just another part of this surreal art project. Wind howled in the background, yet no breeze came through.

    Their head was still spinning. Probably even more than a few minutes ago. But the feeling of grass beneath their feet and the acrid smoke in the air helped ground them. They were being transported left and right— Where even were they this time??

    “Oh, great, we spawned next to each other,” ITrapped marveled. “Thank god. Makes it easier for me to tell you everything.” He scoffed. “If I left you alone, you would die a minute from now. You’re lucky I’m nice to you.”

    Chance laughed, though it seemed to force its way out of their throat. They took in ITrapped’s outfit—frost-covered, metallic boots and gauntlets; short, bright blue cape; shoulder pads slightly spiked with crystalline ice; and that oh-so familiar Ice Crown, his prized possession. Wow.

    “Come on. Follow along before I get to watch you die.” He turned away; Chance caught up with him immediately.

    Small white structures jutted out of the ground where they walked. The two stopped at what was seemingly a crash site; Chance cleared the haze from their vision while ITrapped knelt next to a machine of some sort. He gestured for them to come over.

    “Generators reduce the amount of time we have in a round,” he told them, fingers nimbly matching nodes together. “There’s four layers per generator; if you know how to match colors together, you should be fine.” He glanced at them, surely noticing their hesitation. “Go on.”

    They wiped their hands onto their dress (something their parents would definitely frown upon), joining ITrapped at the generator. Well, it wasn’t as confusing as they thought it would be. Pink went with pink, green with green…

    ITrapped opened the next layer, making Chance flinch back in surprise. The pair stared at each other for a moment. “…Sorry,” ITrapped mumbled, quickly getting back to work. “Try to keep up.”

    “Right.”

    God, how many times did he have to be here to get all of this? He barely touched on the topic of where they were and even the reason they were here in the first place. ITrapped was never really a talker—he mostly listened and observed—so they’d probably have to rely on context clues for a while…

    Eventually, they got the hang of connecting everything together. Though they had to admit that ITrapped’s speed was admirable. Chance had connected the last node of the generator before a hand grasped their wrist and dragged them away.

    “Isaac, what—” A blade grazed their forearm, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. There was the adrenaline they loved to death, though it brought fear along with it.

    They only had a few seconds to look at their pursuer—mangled hockey mask, tattered clothes, body and machete stained a dark red—before ITrapped yanked them forward. They stumbled on their feet, the pain not exactly registering but still hindering their focus.

    “Keep running!” ITrapped commanded. His grip on their arm was tight, fingers digging into flesh, but it was grounding. Keep running. Yeah, they could do that. As long as ITrapped led them, they’d do anything.

    Isaac was silent, save for the curses that slipped past his lips every time he looked back. The two had made some distance, though they couldn’t afford to stop. They were still being tailed. Chance’s breath came out in harsh gasps, and the wound on their arm was just starting to sting. “Isaac, wait, I—”

    Pain bloomed from the back of their head, and they became very aware Pain bloomed from the back of their head, and they faltered on their feet. Their vision spun and their body almost gave out right then and there, but somehow they willed themselves to stay standing. They were very aware of the warmth dripping down their neck but the world was spinning too much for them to really do anything about it. Black closed in on their vision and they were vaguely aware that Isaac was talking to them. He— What was he… He wanted them to run? On their own?

    Running. Right. Okay, they could do that. Probably. They weren’t really sure how—maybe adrenaline—but they found themselves bolting off without a second thought. They didn’t know where they meant to go and they couldn’t tell where they were moving, but they knew that Isaac had good intentions in mind. They just needed to trust him. He knew what he was doing. Their surroundings were dull and practically set in grayscale, tilting on its side with every unstable, bloodstained step—and they kept running into things they weren’t sure were actually there. They could hear their heartbeat resonating through the gash in their head, mingling with the shrill ringing in their ears; they could feel each pulse and each burst of pain.

    Nausea came quickly after. They stopped, struggling to catch their breath and also struggling to keep themselves from throwing up. They still weren’t sure where they were. But they thought if Isaac was left with the person wearing the hockey mask, then they could assume they were safe. Did they really leave Isaac to fend for himself? God, he could be dying right now…

    Every blink felt like their last. They wouldn’t be surprised if they shut their eyes and failed to open them again. At least the blood staining them made it clear that this wasn’t a dream. (And if it still, somehow, was a dream, this was the worst one they’ve ever had. But they doubted it. Only reality could be this painful.)

    The sound of soft breaths and… something else—were those wheels?—caught their attention. Another person? It wasn’t the guy that hurt him. That’s what they hoped. But they were weak and delirious, so maybe their hopes weren’t so accurate…

    “Where the hell— Oh, there you are!” The approaching voice turned the corner. Chance could make out the blurred shape of a person coming toward them, though their expression was unclear. “Dear God, you’re basically dead. Eat up, come on.” Inexplicably, the figure held out a slice of pizza, waiting for them to take it.

    Chance hesitated, though they eventually took what was offered. Their hands were still shaky and coated in their own blood. They mumbled a “thank you,” taking a hesitant bite. They had to will themselves not to groan in delight. The slice was so greasy—something their parents would disapprove of, but something Chance didn’t know they needed. They finished eating in a few seconds.

    Strangely enough, their vision started to clear up. The pain in their head was receding (though it still lingered ever so slightly), and they soon realized that they could feel their arm again. Wow. Now that they could think a bit straighter, they clearly had to thank their saving grace. “Hah… Thank you. Like— Really,” they stammered. “I don’t— My name’s Chance, how— How did you even—?”

    “Oh, you’re the new survivor!” their savior exclaimed. Chance noticed they were wearing something similar to a glamorized work uniform—red jacket, dark red shirt, black pants, all with yellow accents. Their visor had flames on them, its headpieces resembling a Valkyrie Helm; they also had rollerskates on. “The name’s Elliot.” Oh, that’s a name he recognized. The son of one of the Builder Brothers. That explained the uniform. “I’m one of the healers in our roster.”

    “Healer? Wait— What do you mean, ‘roster?’” So this kid obviously knew what he was doing. Chance felt like an idiot.

    “You know, like the people in this round.” A pause. “You… didn’t know what that means?” Elliot asked. When Chance nodded, he added, “I thought ITrapped would’ve told you.”

    Well, Isaac had always been of a “learn from experience” kind of guy. He wasn’t fond of teaching people things. “Was he supposed to?”

    “Would’ve been beneficial…” Elliot sighed, shaking his head. “Whatever. I’m not just gonna leave you hanging.”

    He said everything that ITrapped had told them—how they got here (which was dubbed “being forsaken,” the fact they would come back—but he said way more than he expected. The place they were in before, that cabin, was called the “Lobby.” The place they were in now was called a “map,” and this one was named Planet Voss. Right now, they were in a “round,” which Chance just registered as a death game. Like Russian roulette with strategy instead of luck. Didn’t Isaac mention rounds when he was talking about generators? Actually, about those generators, Chance was able to add a thing or two onto what Elliot was saying.

    As for that healer bit, there were three “classes” that each person—“survivors”—could fall into: Survivalists, with abilities that help themselves… survive; Supports, with abilities that helped their teammates passively (“That’s the class I’m in,” Elliot remarked); and Sentinels, with abilities that allowed them to attack the killer. You didn’t get to choose what class you were in.

    Chance could check their abilities just by thinking really hard. No, literally. That’s all Elliot told them to do. “That’s how you access your menu,” he stated. “Or… UI. Whatever.”

    Three abilities: Coin Flip, Reroll, and Hat Fix—though only Coin Flip was accessible. The other two had their icons locked up. “So my abilities look like they help me,” they noted. “That means I’m a… Survivalist, right?”

    “There you go,” Elliot exclaimed. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

    Then those same bells began to ring again. The cogs were turning now; they were about to go back to the cabin— the Lobby. This time, they anticipated the colors seeping into their vision.

A familiar warmth enveloped Chance’s heart, though it wasn’t enough to ward off the remaining tension.

    All the survivors were sitting at the table in front of the chalkboard. They took in the people around them—Isaac and Elliot to their right and left respectively, Builderman, that one hacker whose name they could barely recall (something with numbers in it…), Shedletsky (how’d they not notice him?), someone who looked deathly similar to Isaac, and a person whose almost manic gaze made them slightly uncomfortable.

    The pain was gone. Their clothes weren’t stiff and stained with blood anymore. Though they still felt like they should’ve been hurt—or maybe even dead, as morbid as it was to think.

    Everyone stood from their seats, one after another, until it was just them and Isaac left. They didn’t speak; Chance wasn’t even sure what to say. They didn’t even look at each other. They found themselves listening in on a conversation in the next room.

    “Elliot! Where were you?! You were barely there the whole round! You’re lucky we all lived with barely any casualties.”

    “I was helping Chance! They’re new to all this— Do you think I’d leave them hanging?”

    “Could’ve helped them earlier. We need you, you know!”

    “Oh, shut up, Shed—who’s always missing their swings?”

    “Who’s always missing their pizza throws?”

    “Who’s always eating my pizzas?!”

    “…First round’s always tough,” ITrapped mumbled, looking at Chance but not fully turning his head. “You managed to live through it?”

    Chance shrugged, only glancing at ITrapped for a moment. “I guess you could say that,” they replied. The awkwardness was making them uneasy. They laughed under their breath. “You’re not the best mentor, y’know,” they teased.

    A small smile graced ITrapped’s features. There it was. “I tried,” he exclaimed. He finally faced them, and there was a distinct solemnness in his eyes. “Brace yourself,” he warned. “There’s more to come.”

    And he wasn’t lying. Chance knew they should never doubt him once the bells tolled the same as before.

    Second round: Glass Houses. (The “original” variant, Isaac told them.) They had tried testing out their abilities, but they didn’t stand a chance against the manifestation of hatred, 1x1x1x1. They were too shocked by the fact that she wasn’t just a myth, and eventually their body was cut in half by a shockwave.

    Third round: Builder Brother’s Pizza, from what they could make out of the rubble. Elliot didn’t seem too engaged in this round, and it was evident when Noli—another myth turned reality—rushed into them both. They still felt the impact of being blown to bits.

    Fourth round: Underground War. Honestly, they weren’t sure how they lived. They could’ve sworn their arm was falling off their body by how much it had bled. By the end of that round, they didn’t think they’d be able to see Mr. Doe the same again.

    Fifth round: C00l Carnival. The hacker that was with them—who they finally remembered as 007n7—was apparently the father of C00lkidd. It tugged at their heartstrings, but their parents had told them not to be affiliated with someone so lowly. (They guessed Isaac was an exception?) But physical damage outweighed emotional damage, and they found themselves frantically checking for burn marks after death.

    Their mind was racing. They had died thrice, and nearly died twice. Their assorted collection of wounds still tingled as if they were going to open again. Then the spirals returned, this time more intense than ever…

Chapter Text

They were met with the faintly familiar scent of green apple cleanser and orange-blossom detergent, overcome by various lingering perfumes and colognes.

    Were they in the same place as they were before they were forsaken? The party had definitely ended by now. 

    …The party had definitely ended by now.

    Oh, Chance was absolutely screwed. They checked their watch and found it was only 10:15; the party was supposed to end around 11. That meant they had been gone for so long and their parents couldn’t find them, so they closed everything up early to look for them. Someone was probably going to get fired tonight.

    Maybe they could silently bolt up the stairs, put themselves in their room and pretend they had been in the middle of something and that they had been here the whole time. Make up a believable story on the spot and pray to the Swords above that their parents believed it. Gaslight them into thinking they had already seen them— No, that was too cruel. They couldn’t do that.

    Then what could they do? They ran over their options over and over again, the fear from being forsaken coming back as the fear of being found out. How much trouble would they be in if they were accused of sneaking out, of leaving the party before they were supposed to?

    “Chance!!”

    They guessed they were about to find out.

    They had to school their expression to look surprised rather than terrified. They knew their parents wouldn’t harm them, but they still felt like they should be running away.

    Chance barely paid attention to what their parents were saying. Something something, “You need to make good impressions!” and some extra “What type of victor doesn’t show up to their own party?” and also a “When you were younger, you used to love these!” God. It was infuriating.

    And they tried to reason themselves out. They really did. “I just wanted to take a break,” they said. “Don’t you think all this is a bit much?” They left out where they went for their so-called “break.” They couldn’t really think of a viable place.

    And they were immediately shut down. “You can’t afford to take breaks with such a packed schedule!” 

    Then make some room for it, Chance thought, but never would say. They would never say that.

    So they just nodded along, agreed with what they were told, waiting for their parents to finish up so they could figure out what the hell to do next.

    Once their parents left them alone with a “Just try harder next time” (which made Chance want to punch something, they were already trying their hardest), they went up to their room and resisted the urge to lock their door.

    Their heart was racing, and the encounter with their parents didn’t help in the slightest. The first thing they did was get out of their suit and into comfier clothes. They felt more restrained than before. As scarring as those rounds were, they did miss the flexibility of their dress. If only they could get their hands on that here…

    They shook out their body, trying to rid themselves of the electricity running through their veins. Everything was really hitting full force now. How were they supposed to process all of this? To tell their parents that they died deaths that they didn’t even think was possible? To tell themselves that this was going to become part of their “normal?” Their parents were right, their schedule was packed; if they could be whisked away at any moment…

    Chance let out a sigh, so utterly conflicted. And worried. Especially about their future. This was the most stressed they’ve felt in a while, and it was surprising when they considered everything they were obligated to do.

    They needed comfort. And if not from their parents, if not from themselves, then from Spade.

    “Hi, buddy…!” they exclaimed, taking their rabbit out of his enclosure and lifting him into his arms. He was so goddamn heavy and that’s why they loved to hold him. “Look at you. Such a cutie.”

    Spade only stared at them. But they didn’t mind. “Sorry for leaving you alone for so long… You forgive me, don’tcha?” No response. Just a twitch of an ear. “Don’t give me that look,” Chance whined jokingly.

    They sat on their bed, kicking off their slippers and crossing their legs. Spade was placed on their lap, his weight helping ground them in reality. They idly ran fingers on top of his head, letting their mind wander for a moment.

    At least this hadn’t changed. They knew their life would be different now. And it was all rushing through their head and veins, though just having Spade near them made the thoughts seem like little droplets. Harmless little things that dripped off of anything they hit. It was gonna be okay. They’d adjust. They always adjusted.