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Until The Next Morning

Summary:

Using mirrors is a risky endeavor in The Spectre's realm. Who knows what you'll see other than yourself?

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Using mirrors was always a…risky endeavor in The Spectre’s Realm. Many things were, but mirrors in particular were possibly one of the riskiest “casual” things of all. 

 

That’s why there was only one mirror in the cabin, hidden away in a little side bathroom. It’d already been broken a…fair amount of times, but no matter what, it was repaired the next day. 

 

Two Time was a bit ashamed to admit they’d been the cause of the mirror breaking at least twice, outright stabbing it the first time [which was the cause of the note to confiscate their blade when the rounds were over for the day] and throwing something heavy at it the second time. 

 

They had seen things that weren’t there.

 

That was the risk with mirrors. If you’d earned any ounce of ire from The Spectre, or if it just wanted to mess with you, you’d see things that were not there. It had happened to everyone but their newest member, Veeronica, and everyone just assumed it was a matter of time before she was caught in it too.

 

Two Time avoided this mirror whenever they could, but on occasion they did make use of it. This was one of those times, spent checking if the eyebags under their eyes were as visible as they had thought they were.

 

They…had not slept well recently. Ever since Chance’s drunken confession on the back porch of the cabin, all they could think about was the worry that eventually he’d find out what happened to _____, and then he’d run off and never love them again. Part of them couldn’t blame him. They wanted to confess it all, to crumble like a poorly built structure and beg for forgiveness. They didn’t know how he would react, and that was eating at them. In the past few months, everything they had been holding to their chest was ripped away from them. Amarah did not speak to Spawn. Spawn did not want them to kill _____. Spawn did not want them to lose their head-wings. Spawn did not want anyone to kill in His name. How stupid were they to think Life wanted people to kill?

 

…They would figure things out.

 

Their tail flicked uncomfortably as they examined their face, tugging at their eyelids. It seemed to be just…like it felt like it was worse than it was. That was good. The last thing they needed was someone focusing on them rather than the eventual goal of getting out of here.

 

A flicker of movement in the glass caught their attention, and they spun around to look to see if someone had entered the room without them realizing the door had even been opened. 

 

…No one.

 

…Alright.

 

They took a deep breath and turned back to face the mirror—

 

Oh…when had they earned The Spectre’s ire?

 

It was not _____ they saw, as they had the previous two incidents, but rather a taller man, dark hair tied in a neat ponytail and slung over his shoulder as he loomed over Two Time’s reflection in the mirror. His wings fluttered idly, and there was an ever-present shadow over his face rather than his features being covered by his head-wings as Two Time had last remembered seeing him.

 

…it was not real.

 

Amarah was not standing behind them.

 

They knew this. Every fiber of their being was screaming but they knew it was not real. They just kept telling themselves that, desperate in an internal tone. 

 

The reflection tilted his head like he was daring them. Daring them to raise their hands against him. 

 

Two Time raised both their fists.

 


 

The rounds had gone decent. Chance of course never liked being stuck in a seemingly endless death game, but some days were definitely better than others. 

 

He was in the middle of setting up a game of solitaire and explaining to Shedletsky how to play it [even if he knew that Shed only asked in an attempt to lessen the hostilities between the two of them after the truth about 1x1x1x1 was revealed], taking up pretty much the entirety of the winners’ table as he rambled on. He was fondly reminded of setting up games at the Luckyshot Casino, and it was just another firm tack in the list of reasons why he needed to get out of this place.

 

He was halfway through a sentence when he was suddenly interrupted by the noise of something shattering violently. 

 

For a moment, he thought it came from the kitchen, like someone had dropped a dish, until he came to the striking realization that it was instead coming from the bathroom.

 

…Where Two Time was.

 

The mirror.

 

Chance got up nearly immediately, sprinting past everyone else’s startled looks to pop open the thankfully unlocked door.

 

Two Time was clutching the sink the mirror was at, one hand clasped over the charm of their necklace as they breathed heavily, whole body shaking.

 

“Times…” Chance breathed out, catching their attention as they snapped to face him.

 

Their hands were bleeding, sliced by the shards of glass from where they’d clearly hit the mirror multiple times even after it’d broken. 

 

They took in a deep breath, shaky as it was, staring at their hands as they hesitated to wipe their tears away, clearly not wanting to get blood or glass on their face.

 

Chance quickly moved forward, reaching under the sink to grab for a first-aid kit.

 

The cabin everyone stayed in wasn’t the only cabin on this side of the lake. The secondary cabin was smaller, with one simple bed in it. It was reserved solely for the few times one of the survivor group was sick, to avoid them getting the others in the group sick. The only other time it was used was if you needed something to be guaranteed to be private. 

 

Chance was quick getting Two Time out of the cabin, and was thankful that most of the others took one look and purposefully looked away, not wanting to stare at the situation. The two made their way out of the cabin and across the small way in the snow, heading up and into the smaller cabin.

 

He led them to sit in front of the fireplace, quickly striking a match to light it once everything was in place and the fireplace was open. He settled down in front of Two Time, popping open the kit to gently pick out the bits of glass that were still left using the tweezers. Once he was sure everything was out, he gently took off their gloves, examining what they’d done.

 

“…Did you slam just your fists, or your whole upper arms?” Chance hummed. He did want to comfort them, of course, but there were unfortunate priorities right now.

 

“…Whole upper arms,” Two Time responded after a moment, voice shaky and just above a whisper.

 

“Then you’re gonna need to take your hoodie off, okay, Times?” Chance pulled back, “Just so I can fix up anything on your arms.”

 

Two Time visibly hesitated, taking a shaky breath before they pulled their jacket off.

 

Chance was glad he was used to maintaining a poker face.

 

Two Time’s arms were coated in scars. None exactly fresh, but enough where it looked like they’d only stopped gaining scars roughly a year ago. Some were faded from being from years ago, but Chance did have a horrifying realization that left a sinking feeling in his gut. Most of them were clearly self-inflicted.

 

He took a breath, focusing on the wounds from breaking the mirror, cleaning each of them before wrapping up their arms and hands. Once everything was securely in place, he hesitated before ever so gently planting a kiss on the back of one of their hands.

 

“There,” he nodded, “and a kiss to help heal.”

 

Two Time stared at him for a long moment before they lay their bladed tail in his lap, careful to not poke him. Chance paused before he lay one of his own hands on the tail, patting it.

 

“…Amarah…taught me to keep my emotions in,” Two Time breathed out, “and to…control them in certain ways.”

 

…Amarah. Had Chance heard that name before? He thought he heard it in passing conversation during the earlier points of Two Time being here, but talk of him had petered out.

 

“…The leader of uh…” Chance didn’t exactly know how to phrase it. 

 

Two Time simply nodded, “Yes. The so-called Prophet Of Spawn. He was…like a father to me, after my own father ceased to hold a vested interest in me. I saw him. I saw him in that mirror and I…”

 

“You got angry you were lied to by someone you trusted?” Chance questioned, then saw another nod in response.

 

“I did not do good at keeping my emotions in.”

 

Chance hummed in response, patting Two Time’s tail again as the conversation halted for a moment as Chance thought.

 

“I don’t think that was taught to you for your benefit, Times,” Chance flatly stated, “I think it was for his.”

 

“…most likely,” they hung their head.

 

Chance reached over, helping them to put their jacket and gloves back on. The last thing he needed was others seeing the sight and hounding Two Time over it.

 

Two Time leaned against a chair that was near the fireplace as they pulled their tail away, and Chance moved to lean next to them, listening to them try to stop sniffling and calm their breathing back to normal. Seeking something normal, Chance drew his coin from his pocket and began idly flipping it. As he continued, he could see Two Time staring at the coin as well. Their breathing began to properly steady, but Chance didn’t want to point it out.

 

“…What exactly…is a good luck charm…?” Two Time eventually asked.

 

Chance grabbed his coin on the next flip and simply held it between two of his fingers.

 

“It’s something, usually an object, that you think gives you luck. I’ve seen dozens of types of them. Necklaces, coins…people even use rabbit feet as good luck charms…not exactly a fan of that one, for reasons you can assume.”

 

“…Can a good luck charm be a person…?” Two Time asked, voice in a tip-toe like that question itself was somehow a confession. Chance thought for a long moment, then adjusted his hat and shrugged.

 

“I suppose! It’s up to you what you think brings you luck.”

 

“Would…you be alright with being someone’s good luck charm…?”

 

Chance blinked behind his glasses.

 

“Do you…am I your good luck charm?”

 

“If it’s alright with you,” Two Time hesitantly scooted a bit away, “I just feel like…even bad things can go alright when I’m with you. Like your natural luck rubs off on me, and even when things go wrong they turn around and go right, and I don’t understand it.”

 

Chance closed the gap Two Time had made, raising his arm in an offer. Two Time blinked at him, then leaned in, letting him tuck his arm over their shoulder.

 

“…yeah. I can be that for you.”

 

Two Time breathed out, relaxing into Chance.

 

“Then thank you, my good luck charm.”

Notes:

They make me ill can we kill them?

This was heavily inspired by an animation by the Youtuber Ghostfire Dagger, which is where the idea of the mirror breaking and the association with Sinking Town comes from, but I already knew I needed /some/ way to establish Amarah's main form of emotional control. Anyways sign up sheets for the Stab Amarah Squad can be found to your left.

Title comes from Sinking Town by Yoeko Kurahashi!

Also sorry for the incoming chaos, everyone. Plead Playing was the last funny fic in this series for a hot minute, multiple of the next ones are horrifyingly harrowing 😭.

Obligatory fuck SoulDrivenLove