Work Text:
"One more time", "Again, keep going", "Maybe another chance". Those words rings in your head each time you have to undo time, a desperate act-really. Nonetheless, you must no-have to repeat this seemingly unending cycles of pure agony. And yet, you still clings to the idea of Hope, miracles, changing the fates. As if your mind can't live without them-without him.
Again.
Another excuse flew from your mouth for motivation.
Again.
You mumbled this word like a mantra.
Again.
You failed once again.
Again.
This time you didn't try. You've decided to just lay in your bed. In the comfort of a present warm that wraps it self around you, something for relief, ease you from each ordeal your mind have recieve. Staring at the ceiling infront, you've wondered if this is the only way? Repeating time for an unknown number of time, doing it again, again, and again in order to at least change the course of fate has destined him for, or maybe it was your's to suffered this forsake reality the gods above put you in, as entertainments. A forced Jester. Eyes blurry, mind full of thoughts, closed eyes and sparkling tears slide down upon the cover below. Does it all mattered? Will it be over soon? When will I be freed? Such idea clouded the room. It reeks of growing madness.
Again.
You've pondered how this ability of yours is a perfect yet stupid power, an ability to rewind time. Everyone would want that, right? They can use it to undo mistake, they can use it to erase an embarrassing act out of the timeline, they can use it to save souls. Until they realize that they are fighting literall Time, Fate, Gods. It was an unfair fight. And each round unknowingly take a pieced out of your mental health, slowly but surely creeping you unto your demise. Although in the end of the day, it was a choice. One you could decide to participate or not. It's such a perfect shame, fits for someone like you.
Again.
It hurts how every single time you tried to save him, he'll always end up being dead. One way or another. Forced to repeat the same day and tragedy. And almost every dead, you scoop him up in your arms, watching him withered away as fate laughs at you for your struggle. All it takes to end this is just stopping, as simple as that, yet here you're still clinging to the concept of miracle. Pathetic indeed.
Eventually, it's just you and the word Again.
Do it again.
Do it again.
Again and again.