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for some reason, you can't sleep.
wether it's dave's limbs wrapping around you or something else, you don't really know.
he's deep asleep — as deep as he's capable of, that is. he's a light sleeper. something you learned against your will, but it is useful sometimes. knowing that, you take your time when untangling your bodies, which seems to startle him just slightly, not enough to wake him up, but you act with more caution noticing that.
you get off the bed and allow yourself a slightly longer glance at him that you are normally comfortable with. he looks peaceful. that's a rarity, really; he never looks peaceful, always frantic, always up for something, almost manic. yeah, manic's a right word. every day you have a feeling that the episode must end soon, and the next morning he proves you wrong.
and, well… he's never this peaceful when he sleeps. not that you've witnessed that in any occasion.
to be completely fair, it's not like you had many chances of seeing him asleep. that's beside the point, isn't it? right. you roll your eyes and step out on the balcony. there's an ashtray and a half-empty pack of cigarettes on the little table. dave's lighter is also there; he usually keeps it in his pockets, seems like he forgot it today. it's also purple.
for a purple guy, he sure seems to love the colour. it feels a little extra.
you light a cigarette up and take a long drag. it fills your lungs, and days when it made you dizzy are… decades away, if you remember correctly. you look down from the balcony. street lights, cars passing by, people talking in a tad too high volume to your liking. you might throw the lit cigarette butt down there in hopes to set their hair on fire, but that would have to wait.
then you look up at the horizon and lean on the railing.
ashamed, aren't we?
"shut up."
you know me. i don't usually butt in to talk to you or anything. i narrate. but what you did tonight…
"i don't want to think about it right now."
you can't force me, i'm inside your head.
i just… i feel like it brought something from his past that should've never resurfaced.
"like he ever cared about resurfacing MY unwanted memories. you said it yourself, you're in my head. you should know how it makes me feel."
i should, and i do. and you know how sorry i am for everything that you had to go through because of them. i know you want to harm him back, but he's hurting enough, and it's not even giving you the satisfaction.
"what's your point here?" you take another drag and sigh heavily. my point is, you feel bad for him even after all he's done. doesn't that concern you?
"i don't."
you bathed him and cuddled him in bed.
"yeah, and? i don't want him bitching and moaning about me not caring enough about him. oh, sportsy, it's sooooo sweet that you took me, i appreciate it so much, i'm so glad you're here with me and that we can spend time together, oh sportsy, i l-"
finish the sentence.
"no."
finish the fucking sentence, jack.
"he doesn't."
stop lying to yourself, jack. we both know how he feels about you. denying it won't help.
"…"
…
"…i hate you."
i know. i hate you too. i wish i could go to some other poor fuck's mind instead of being stuck with you here. hell, maybe being stuck in dave's head won't be much worse.
"don't say that. you have no idea how bad his mind is."
as if you do?
"i know a lot." i'm aware of that. "i know too much, even." i'm aware of that as well. "leave me alone."
i need you to think things through, jack. you're forgetting things that you should have never forgotten, and you know really well what i'm talking about. if you're not planning on doing this, then at least give dave what he deserves.
"he doesn't deserve anything good," you know he does. stop pushing that "irredeemable afton" schtick. if you know so much about him, and, may i remind you, i know all the things you do, you should know damn well there's a good reason behind all that. "the fucking lizard does not deserve anything good!"
jack.
"stop talking to me!" jack, shut the fuck UP for a second, i beg you.
he wronged both of you.
"i don't care." if you didn't care, would you really do the things you do? "i'm just trying to get him to trust me enough so i could finally end all of this."
we both know it's not true.
"oh, really? what's true then, mister smart-ass?" not a mister, jack. but you're well aware he trusted you enough the second you killed the children back in colorado. he's desperate for love; any love, frankly speaking, but your love especially. you could have went with your filthy plan last time. what's stopping you?
"…"
why are we so silent, jack? what's wrong, did i say something scary to admit?
i know you, jack. that's the problem. you're trying to hide things from someone who sees and knows you like their own self. i know there are things hard to admit, but if you don't…
"i do not care about the purple fuck."
you're pushing my patience.
"…i don't even know at this point, man."
maybe if you actually spent time on thinking about it, you would come to some sort of conclusion. you take a drag and hold it a bit longer that necessary. it tingles just a little, and the feeling is pleasant. if you ask me, you two are an awful match. you shouldn't interact, like, ever. but now you're in this position and i can't really change it, because he's head over heels about you and you… well, whatever it is happening in that head of yours.
"i feel surprisingly many things for a soulless corpse…" you do, don't you? "mostly anger."
that's better than nothing, isn't it?
"i wish i didn't feel at all." i bet. for someone like you and for all the things you've been through. "i just don't understand. does he really not recognise me? he must have any idea what i'm trying to do, especially now. is he that stupid?"
he's that much in love, jack. whatever you do, he will do his best to find a reason his sick mind is okay with. he does that with you, and he most likely did it with him. i wish you could do something about it to make him see, but right now… he's too deep in his own world that his brain came up with.
you saw what happened to him mid-process, right?
"which of the weird things you mean?" when he spaced out and was all over you despite being in obvious discomfort. "oh yes… that. i was actually wondering what that was all about, because holy fuck that threw me off."
about him, i'd assume.
"you can't just blame everything on the magenta fuck," i very well can. especially when it comes to dave, and you know that too. "touché."
you throw the cigarette butt down, aiming for the head of the guy that's practically yelling at his companions downstairs, and sit down on one of the cute chairs, immediately lighting another cigarette. good thing you're dead and it can't hurt you, eh?
"are you gonna mock me for smoking now?" no, i didn't even intend that. regardless… were where we? "you think that dave being this kinda freaky has something to do with…"
yes, yes. what i mean is, we both know what he did to dave. i think that any attention given is like a blessing to him at this point. and the more attention you give him… the more he goes into that… childish mentality.
"you're not saying he regressed and i practically fucked a kid, are you?" GOD NO? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU. "that's how you make it sound!" NO IT'S NOT. NO, IT IS NOT. how did you even come to that conclusion. "he did treat henry like a father, so i thought…"
you should never think again.
"you were the one to call it childish," you make me sick to my metaphorical stomach, jack. "we're getting off topic again."
do you want me to give you time to think a little?
"…yeah. maybe to ramble so i don't shut up, because if i do i will totally refuse all of your next attempts to make me open up and admit literally anything."
take your time.
"i really don't know how to feel about him," you hush your voice and look up at the sky, counting every barely visible star. the bright lights of vegas don't leave many of them up there. "you know. being a direct victim of all his actions and all. their actions. he is, in one way or another, the reason i became this. but i like when he…"
you uncomfortably shift on the chair and finish the cigarette before lighting another one, taking a drag from it and continuing.
"it feels nice to hear i love you from someone. even from someone like him. and i know he doesn't really mean it," he does, stop denying it. in his own ways, but he loves you. give him a break. "stop interrupting me. what i'm trying to say is… maybe if things turned out differently…"
if things turned out differently you would have never met him, jack. that's the problem.
"that's likely, yeah. then again. he can be a nice fellow when he's uh… not killing kids or glazing henry, you know," i sometimes wonder what he would've become if it wasn't for henry. "me too. and i do feel sorry for him, don't get me wrong. but i just can't… i can't treat him like nothing has ever happened. i'm trying so he won't suspect anything, and then- well, you know. i don't snap often. but tonight…"
you put the cigarette out. you can finish it later, but now you want to breathe normally for a bit. that's an unusual wish for you, i must admit.
"mhm. so… i'm just really conflicted. about everything. what i'm doing feels wrong, but also like i was always meant to do that, you know. from the very beginning. i can't explain it, but when i'm holding a child, when it's wheezing and crying and dying in my hands… when he's there, watching me in that weird anticipation of his…" please don't go into detail? "yeah, yeah. something in the back of my mind tells me to keep going, if you get what i mean."
you were meant to do the exact opposite. that's why it feels wrong.
"and what the fuck are you suggesting? ditch dave and go try to make things right? the locations are closed, and also, fredbear is gone. there's no point anymore."
what i'm suggesting is that you talk things through with dave. come clean. fix everything. do it with him, if he agrees. it's not only your promise and victims, but his, in a way. he's so devoted to you he might just hop on board if you're gentle enough.
and when it comes to fredbear… you don't have to do it for him. it's for your own good and for the kiddins.
it's for her.
"her…"
for dave, as well. i doubt he was taught better.
by the way, fredbear is ethereal, if you forgot. you can't kill him in any way that's truly meaningful. if you fixed your mistakes… i think he would forgive you.
"YOU'RE TELLING ME THE FUCKER IS ALIVE?" oh, for god's sake! "okay, okay, continue."
i do believe that you can make everything right. and maybe… maybe if you do, the hound will stop hiding in your peripheral and something would work out with dave.
but you're not gonna listen to me, are ya.
"…"
thought so.