Chapter Text
I loved the music box Eraser made.
He had created it for the both of us, Blocky and I, and he'd composed the melody inside it himself.
It had always belonged more to Blocky. It was a gift to lift our spirits as his health started to decline, and he cherished it. I could never claim it as mine. Not really.
Eraser was always gruff to others. He was a known troublemaker, only being softer to us two when we were alone. And despite that, the instrumental in that box was… warm. All his music was, in a way nobody else could replicate.
As for me, I had never been one for music. I took it up casually, and sometimes I would make a song or two, but it was never a serious hobby for me. Not until I met Eraser.
I wanted to be a composer, just like my boyfriend.
To write warm songs just like he did.
Now he'll never compose again,
and it's all
my
fault.
"ERASER!
Eraser…"
The anger fades to a sullen numbness.
I caused this.
My songs caused this.
I took his music, his beautiful, warm music, and stole it for myself.
I am greedy and selfish, and that will taint me for as long as I live.
I hurt Eraser because my songs cannot make others feel joy — happiness — the way his can.
So… I have to be able to do that.
For him…
I will compose a song that brings someone happiness.
I must compose a song that brings someone happiness. A song that can save someone.
"I must compose… a song that can save someone." I speak the resolution aloud, only for no one to reply. All that remains in Eraser's once-lively room are ghosts of what was. What will never be again.
I must… compose.
I blink at my computer screen. The blue light is hurting my eyes, even with the night shift and dark mode on. It's too bright.
More importantly, my program is taunting me. I haven't been able to finish this song yet.
I fumble with the different settings. The chords, the notes — nothing works.
I'm only distracted by a pinging noise through my headphones, and a small banner on the corner of my screen.
Thread sent me a DM?
I drag my mouse over to the little banner and click to expand it, opening the Discord chat.
Thread: I just sent the lyrics for the new song. Take a look when you can.
P: Okay. Thanks.
That seems like an adequate response, and I'm going to move on, when Thread sends another message.
Thread: P, are you getting enough sleep?
That's Thread for you. I exhale. There's no problem in lying if what I'm doing will save someone someday, right?
P: Yeah, I'm fine. You're up late too.
Thread: Well, I'm just trying to do my part in working for this group. After all, you all have been trying really hard lately.
Thread: I know we don't know each other in real life, but that doesn't make me want to put in any less effort.
P: Oh, okay.
That makes sense, at least to me. Thread's next message is what catches me off guard.
Thread: It feels like you haven't been offline in a while. Make sure to take care of yourself, okay?
P: Thanks. I'll keep that in mind.
I switch softwares again, this time to Files so I can look at those lyrics. Thread does care about me, I know that, but I'm not going to stop composing. I never will. Not until I can atone for what I did to Eraser.
A beam of light comes from my monitor, flashing, filling up the whole room for just a brief moment—
I jump, but as it appears, everything's fine.
Wow, maybe I am really sleep deprived.
In any case, I should look at those new lyrics, and…
"What is this…?"
Untitled?
I don't remember hearing about an Untitled from the others, or composing one myself. We normally name our files before sending them over…
I double-click out of curiosity. I might get a virus from this, but I trust the others enough… and I need to see what it's all about.
"What the—?!"
I groan and blink. My head vaguely aches from what I can remember as a white flash. Around me is a gray wasteland of… nothingness.
It's surreal and liminal, and as I try to process it all, I mumble to myself:
"What in the world…? Where am I? I was just composing…"
"Pen."
"Who are…" I cut myself off, because I know exactly who this is, even though they look… different.
Two, a mascot for everything and everything, part of a fictional species called "algebraliens," used for everything from music to advertisements. They're pale, and their two-toned eyes look haunted, contrasting the usual brightness from marketing. But the shape is unmistakable:
They're Two all the same.
"This is SEKAI. Another world."
"B-but…" I struggle to find words. "Is this a dream? I can't be talking face-to-face with the… the singing software… the fictional character… Two?"
"I've been waiting for you, Pen," they murmur, disregarding me completely. "In this SEKAI, for the longest time."
"SEKAI…?" Right, right, SEKAI. Something, something, other world…?
"Yes. A lonely world born from her feelings. And I am here to help her find her true feelings."
"Her feelings…?" I wonder aloud, biting back the other obvious question for now.
"Yes. And when she finds them, they will give birth to a song."
What a strange concept.
"But she won't find anything here. Not alone. So…" Two pauses.
"Please, help her."
"You want me to help? But how…?" I'm almost afraid to ask the question.
"You don't have to know yet. You'll meet her here, in this SEKAI. One day. I know so. And when you do, you have to help her discover her true feelings. She's so close… closer than she thinks."
"And what's that supposed to mean?" I hear a little bit of Eraser in myself, and I cast my gaze down, scolding myself mentally for thinking about it. "Two… I really, truly have no idea what you're talking about."
"I'm out of time. It's up to you now, Pen." Two closes their heterochromatic eyes.
"It's up to you to save her."
When I awaken next, I'm in my desk chair, blanket wrapped around me, like nothing ever happened.
"What…"
Oh.
"I fell asleep, and I had this really strange dream…"
I trail off. There's no one to talk to anymore. It's been a while, but I still say everything aloud, like I'm having conversation…
Like they're still here.
The details of it are evaporating quickly anyway, like sand between my fingers. All I remember is me working on that song, and then Thread…
Right. I was chatting with Thread.
Feeling a bit more oriented now, I open the Discord chat to a couple notifications:
Thread: Finally fell asleep?
Thread: Goodnight, P. See you tomorrow.
I must have slept for a while, judging by these timestamps. I exhale.
I didn't realize I needed sleep that badly. Maybe I could take a nap…
The idea is shut down as quickly as it comes.
I must compose. I must never stop composing.
To atone for Eraser.
To save someone.