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He melts into the comfort of the abyss.
A little bored, but mostly unbothered. Hard to be bored when there is nothing, nothing at all.
What is there to be bored of? What is there to be scared of? He's always so, very happy.
He wanders for a while. Sometimes he sits around, but that makes it ache. What hurts? It doesn't matter, much.
Nothing can reach him here. Not even sleep. The others no longer scare him.
The others? There are no others. Nothing but him.
There is only prey and silence, here.
Only prey and silence—
That noise— the clanging of a million gears grinding— foretells blinding light.
He squeezes his eyes shut.
Always too bright when they come around. It hurts, but only for a little bit.
Only hunger pursues him. Biting them makes it go away. Makes his head fuzzy and happy. He just needs to find one.
If he could get one bite.
Or two. Or three.
Then, he'll be so, very happy.
He can hear their footsteps, faintly— their failures more keenly. The angry buzzing that always comes from them.
Naturally, he runs toward it. Bumps into a few walls— they make him dizzy, but it's all in good fun.
His head always hurts. Sometimes hitting himself makes it go away.
They're just around the corner, grip tight on whatever it is they’re holding. He can't remember. He doesn't care.
He eagerly sprints toward his unaware prey— they gasp as they spot him, and get ready to run.
He likes running, the games of cat and mouse they play. Even if he doesn't always win. It's especially fun when he catches them by surprise.
“…Boxten?” They gasp. They've slowed down.
They always make a lot of strange noises, always screaming about “last machines,” and “get to elevators” and “twisteds” and a billion other sounds and noises.
But he can't say he's heard of a… what was it? A “bostin?”
Ah. He's hungry. They aren't running yet.
He could use an easy catch. At least one bite.
Maybe he can keep this one, eat some and save the rest for later.
Finally, they begin to move. He runs at them before they can run away.
He runs face-first into a wall, slowing only for a second.
When he turns to lunge at them, they toss him to the floor, onto his chest.
He tries to turn over, to rip a chunk out of whatever's closest…
What was he thinking about? One of them is near. He can smell them. He can't see them. Did they leave? He can feel their hands around his.
He can't see them, but he can hear them mumbling.
“I'm sorry, that was such a nasty fall, I should've brought a cookie…”
They remind him, vaguely, of sugary clouds. Cookies, milk, and honey.
They remind him of nothing. He doesn't think about it. He doesn't care.
If he can just flip them over, he can finally be rid of this hunger. It'll be dark, again, and he'll be happy.
They pull away, allowing him to move again. His arms are useless behind him. His head hurts.
He tries to reach them, but his other, more mobile arms, are trapped. Trapped where? His head hurts more when he tries to free them.
They're making a face, the ones they make when he bites them. He doesn't taste anything, though.
“Okay… this is fineeee… um…” He paces for a while. “Can I leave you alone for a bit? Or… maybe you can wait by the elevator. Yeah, that’ll work…”
They approach again. So close. So, so close. If he just keeps trying, he’ll finally be full.
They look at him nervously, and, in a sudden and swift sleight of hand, pull him onto his feet.
He eagerly takes the chance to jump at them, an endless chase that ends up at the strange metal wall. They tie a rope to a pole, and before he can take advantage, they step out of reach. Why can't he reach them?
“…I’ll be back, I promise.”
And with that, they disappear and—
It’s so bright here. So very bright, so very loud. It’s always bright when they come around. Maybe he can get a bite or two.
Someone is failing again, and why can’t he find them?
The… rope? It’s firm around his wrists. He can barely feel it. He tries to gnaw at it, but can’t reach. He gives up.
He’s so very hungry. What will they taste like? Why can’t he find them? The… rope? Yes. The rope. It's rough against his wrists. Ichor drips in clumps, but he has no interest. It’s not very tasty. He tries to gnaw at it, but can’t reach.
They’re here. He can hear their failure. If only he could reach them. He's so very hungry. When they go away, it'll be dark again. He'll be full.
A loud shriek blares through the floor, the metal wall grinding as it rolled up and away.
One of them, the strange ones that always come when it's bright, appears before him.
He lunges, teeth clicking. Finally! He was getting so very bored.
Has he seen this one before? They remind him of cookies, milk, and honey. Maybe he's bitten them before.
They untie the rope and go straight toward the strange room with the stranger lights. Too bright to understand.
He digs his heels into the ground, trying to escape.
The rope around his wrist keeps him from running. He tries to gnaw at it, but can't reach.
He tries to bite at the intruder, to claw out of their grasp; finally, finally! His teeth sink into their forearm, and they tumble straight into the—
It hurts— more of a barebones understanding than a true feeling. The lights hurt him. Some part of him. He isn't sure, so he doesn't think about it.
He can't find a way out, can't get up, can't move from where he's collapsed— he covers his eyes with his other, blackened arms.
Some light peeks through the cracks, but it doesn't bother him. He has other senses.
Unable to see and unable to run, but not unable to bite. He can smell them in there with him, somewhere. He's hungry.
“shhh, shhh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” their mumbling only makes finding them easier. “I didn't mean to hurt you, please don't cry…”
He can feel their hand on him, patting his head and tracing a path along his cheek. They’re so warm. Maybe if he stays still, they’ll keep petting him.
“It'll all be fine. We’re going home now. It’ll be just like before… j-just like before…”
They pull away with a sigh. Too far to reach, but if he keeps pulling, he'll certainly get the jump on them. Just one bite.
The strange place he was in, with the blinding lights and the dizzying sensation it gives him, comes to a sudden halt. A loud grinding noise fills his ears again, but he doesn't dare look around. Not while he's in this nightmarish room.
He doesn't dare to open his eyes until he hears another door open. It's bright here, too, but he can still make his way around.
Everything here smells like them. Sweet ichor with hints of vanilla and chocolate.
He isn't sure where he wants sink his teeth; he wants to dig into everything here. He doesn't ever want to leave.
When the stranger ties him to the bedpost, he can't even find it in him to aim at them. They may well have been everywhere.
“Okay… this is fine…” They sigh and rub their temples. “We can make this work.” They glance toward the door.
“I'll be back, I promise. I'm just going to bring you something nice to eat.” They stand up, and he's alone again. Bored, as always.
He tries to reach it; the sliver of light. That's where they must be. He just needs to get out.
Out of what? He’s never been bound like this before. What was it like before? Ah, it’s all so blurry. If he can’t remember, it wasn’t important.
“I’m back. Didn't take too long, I think.” They return, gently closing the door behind them.
They sit before him. Just out of reach.
What ever happened to that other place? It was always dark there.
He could run wherever he wanted to. Whenever he wanted to. If he was there, he would already have eaten this one.
“Say ah~,” they bring their hand closer. He can barely reach the tips of their fingers.
But they're coming closer, and soon he'll be able to bite them and knock them off their feet. He'd like to at least touch them, feel their skin below his. Where they can't run from him, can't leave…
“You remember this, right? It’s your favorite. I made it for you,” their voice is trembling, bursting at the seams with hot tears.
He isn't sure how to feel about it, so he doesn't think about it. “C'mon, just try it… try it for your Cosmo… do it for me.”
The door creaks open.
“Cosmo?” They're a smear of red against the dim light.
Their voice is so loud. They're basically begging for him to notice them.
“Are you alright? I heard some commotion and—”
Everything goes quiet.
“This in't what it looks like.”
“Cosmo. Step away from it.”
The red one draws near, pulls the brown one away.
“He’s not an it—”
“That *thing* is not Boxten—”
Their hand bridges the gap between him and their body.
“He's not a ‘thing’ either! I know it sounds crazy but—”
“—It's a twisted. A parasite puppeting his— his corpse—”
Freckled yellow, lays enticingly in the air, well within the range of his jaws, fangs, molars…
“It doesn't know you, it doesn't love anyone or anything! Boxten is dead, Cosmo!”
“That's not true—”
A slightly acidic undertone to their sweetness, he can smell it from here. The perfect treat.
“The best thing for Boxten would be for this thing to die so he can rest in peace—”
“STOP IT! JUST STOP! How can you say that about him—”
They pull away just before he can snap his jaws around their pinky and ring.
“…Lets take this outside.”
And then they leave his sight. For a scant few seconds, he feels… something. Then he forgets their faces.
Who's faces?
Everything here is so strange.