Work Text:
Rays of golden sunlight passed through the windows of the small, cozy home, spilling across the wooden floor in a soft, quiet glow. Particles of dust that they were definitely not allergic to drifted lazily in the air, glowing faintly as they danced across the light. It made the room feel warmer than it really was, almost dreamlike, like something remembered instead of lived—in a strangely detached sort of way. Niko didn’t like thinking of home like something they could only get from their dreams. They were here now, after all.
It was still hard to believe that.
All the lights were off. They usually were. There was never much need for them. The sun outside had always been enough for the not-a-cat child inside their home. It’s our own sun in the sky, Niko reminded themselves, not the first time they had done so. It would not be the last time they had to reassure themselves. They weren’t sure why they kept repeating it like… what did Mama call it again? Ah, right, a mantra. Maybe because if they didn’t, it might stop feeling real.
It hadn’t been that long ago when everything felt like it was being thrust upon their shoulders. When they had carried the hopes, dreams, and expectations across a World that wasn’t their own in the first place. A World that had needed them to be its messiah. A World that had, in some way, already known that they would arrive. But they weren’t alone.
They had someone with them back then, a voice only they could hear. They guided them every step of the way, telling them all sorts of things throughout the entire journey. They had remained a near-constant for so long that now that they were gone, it felt as though Niko was missing something, or someone, important in their life.
They were important. More than they could know.
...
It was a month ago… maybe. Niko wasn’t good at keeping track of time—though they didn’t keep count at all. They were afraid that if they started counting, they would sooner realize how much further away it all was. They sincerely didn’t want to forget, not so soon. Memory is all they get to keep in the end, they bitterly reminded them self. Still stubbornly clinging unto whatever they can keep.
To be completely honest, it didn’t feel like a month. It only felt like yesterday when they gave [PLAYER] one last goodbye. They hadn’t seen them since... well, when that ended.
Outside, the sky stretched wide and blue, unchallenged by the clouds above. The sun hung high, unwavering. The wheat fields surrounding the village swayed gently, their golden waves rolling with the breeze in a steady yet mismatched rhythm. It was the kind of day that invited laughter, running, and getting lost in the haze. On days like these, Niko would usually already be outside, running through the fields with reckless abandon, tumbling down the hills—stretching and rolling in ways that were definitely not cat-like. Not at all.
They paused at that thought with a small smile.
It was a good thing [PLAYER] wasn’t here.
They would’ve teased them endlessly!
…
Usually, Niko didn’t stay inside for long. Today, they hadn’t left at all. Not today. Not yesterday. Not the day before that, either.
They sat on the floor of the living room—legs tucked close—surrounded by scattered sheets of paper and worn crayons. Their small hands, covered by their long sleeves, moved slowly and carefully as they filled another drawing with uneven color. Each page held someone close to their heart, fragments of their admittedly shaky memory. Pieces of somewhere else, somewhere far away from here. A place they could never return to—no matter how much they wanted to. No matter how many times they prayed at certain lonely nights for a chance—a moment in time—to speak with them for even just a minute.
They silently hoped that at the very least, [PLAYER] could hear every word. It kind of embarrasses them, in hindsight, dedicating so much time doing that is... sorta silly, in a certain way?
They don’t even know if they could hear them. For all the not-a-cat child knows, their words simply bounced off the walls and stay uselessly within the confines of their room—never even making it halfway to... wherever you may be.
Though Niko rarely gives that possibility any thought—definitely not because it makes them feel stupid for a while—they had already spoken with each other before, so surely a fair amount of distance won’t hinder them in any way, right?
I mean, their God... right?
Their Mama had once called them an imaginative little artist, smiling warmly as she looked over the finished drawings. Niko had almost told her the truth then, that these weren’t imagined at all. That every person here had spoken to them, had shared so many great times with them, had mattered oh so much. But the words never came out. They had just nodded with a grateful smile, letting out a quiet thank you afterward.
Even Niko wasn’t sure they would’ve believed it if they said it out loud.
Papers covered the floor in quiet disarray: Prophetbot, Silver, Rowbot, Calamus, Alula… so many names, so many people they had saved and would never see again. Lamplighter—err, Plight—Magpie, Maize, Kip, George, Ling, Cedric, Proto, Rue… even The World Machine was there. Mama had been a bit confused at first at seeing what was basically a slightly darker clone of them with lines all across their body. Niko chuckled to themselves a little at the amusing memory. A temporary respite before the heavy weight of knowing overtook them once more.
They had tried their best to remember them all. They hoped it was enough. They hoped they hadn’t forgotten anything important. They already had before, no matter how hard they tried, they just couldn’t remember what their voices sounded like exactly. But that wasn’t the most troubling problem for them.
There was one space left unfinished.
One person, if they were one, could not be completed in any way.
The page in Niko’s hands was messier than the rest. The lines were uneven, uncertain, pressed too hard in some places and barely touching the paper in others. Behind the child lay a small pile of crumpled attempts, each one abandoned just as quickly as it had begun.
One version had looked like someone from the village. Mostly. They wore a purple sweater with a yellow sun logo placed at the center. They wore long black pants, had long white hair, the same ears they had, and glasses resting just above their head. Half of their face had been swallowed in shadow, though that was mostly because Niko didn’t really know what their eyes could look like. They were the God of that World… weren’t they? Would they even need eyes?
Niko had stared at it for a long time before crumpling it up. They might not even be from here. That thought had stayed with them long enough to become uncomfortable.
Another drawing had been… a bit sillier than the rest. It was like a, uh, experiment. Yes, an experiment.
A large floating cursor, like the ones from the library computers. Except this one had an eye at its center, staring back at them. Just for the sake of it, they also added little arms on the sides.
You know, for hugs.
They remembered being told, once, that the World they were tasked to save wasn’t really a World at all. It was all a… what was it again? Ah, right, a simulation. It was all not real. All of it was just in [PLAYER]’s computer. They had tried to understand it once, using one of the computers at the library to see what they saw from their perspective. They had never really used those things, so they didn’t understand much of it at all.
Though they could confidently say that the cursor, for reasons they didn’t yet know, stayed with them for a while.
There were more attempts after that. Each one different. Each one wrong for many different reasons. Eventually, Niko stopped trying to guess, stopped trying to make sense of someone they had never even met.
Someone they still missed every day and night.
...
Now, the figure on the page was almost empty. No hair. No clothes. No shape beyond just the outline of a person. It was simple and unfinished, with a mouth, a pair of eyebrows, and the word PLAYER written where a face should be. It didn’t feel right.
But it was the best they had for now.
Niko stared at it for a long time. They wondered if they would ever see them again. If they would ever hear their voice once more. If they would ever know them the way they had known Niko as well, if that was even possible.
Their grip tightened slightly around the crayon, nearly splitting it in two halves.
Then it loosened.
“…I’ll fix it later,” they murmured quietly, though they didn’t sound very convincing. They set the drawing aside. For now.
Carefully, Niko pushed themselves up and climbed onto the couch behind them, curling into the cushions. They stretched out slowly, a soft, inaudible, and suspiciously cat-like purr slipping through them before they could stop it. If they were here, they would have kept calling me a cat for the whole day. They would just keep saying objections against it, earning an amused laugh from them.
Niko would of just brushed it off anyways. Just as they did many times before.
They looked down at the scattered drawings below. For a moment, a small, contented smile touched their face. Eventually, their expression began to fade into something more melancholic—weary in ways someone as young as they were shouldn’t be experiencing, not so soon in their youth.
It’s funny really, they don’t feel as young as they were before having to carry the giant lightbulb, the other Worlds sun... does that make sense? Maybe not, though they do feel like they grew up faster than they should have.
It’s not fair, they thought. We saved the world, and all I have left are just the memories afterwards… The thought lingered, heavy and unfinished. No words could fully describe how they felt about the whole thing anyway.
Their vision began to blur. They rubbed at their eyes quickly, burying the feeling before it could spill over—not yet—they didn’t want to cry again.
[PLAYER] wouldn’t want to see them cry.
They made their distress clear back when they got pancakes from Ling.
A bit embarrassing to remember now, but they were somewhat fond of that memory... mostly because of the extra pancakes Ling gave afterwards.
They missed him as well.
Silence settled back into the room, thick, but far too familiar for someone as young as they were. Niko sank deeper into the couch, exhaustion tugging gently at their eyelids.
Maybe they could take a nap. Maybe, just for a little while, they would feel better once they woke up.
They put aside their hat nearby, ready for a deep slumber. One that they would surely wake up from in higher spirits... hopefully.
The door opened. Niko’s head lifted immediately at the sound. Their ears turning toward it. They could already hear a very familiar voice from the doorway.
“Hey, Niko! Sorry I took a while, I just had a lot to carry.” It was their Mama. Her voice was as warm as ever.
She stepped inside, arms full of grocery bags that looked just a bit too heavy to manage comfortably for, well… anyone. She shifted them slightly, letting out a small breath as she nudged the door shut behind her.
“Niko?” It was then Niko realized that they hadn’t even said a word yet.
“Oh—!” Niko jumped slightly, scrambling off the couch while quickly trying to put on their hat on their head. “I’m sorry—I didn’t—I didn’t hear—I mean, I did hear—I just—” They hurried over, grabbing what bags they could carry, their words tripping over each other in a rush.
“I’m sorry, Mama!”
Their Mama blinked once in confusion, then laughed softly. “It’s okay, Niko,” she said gently. “Just help me bring these to the table.”
Niko nodded quickly, focusing on the task, even as a faint warmth spread through their chest and especially their face. Keeping their hat from falling to the floor. They should be a little more attentive next time.
Even as they helped their Mama, something inside them felt distant. Like they were holding onto the moment a little too tightly, as if it might slip away—just as the others had. Before they could spiral further, she spoke again, interrupting their thoughts.
“I sure hope you want to help me make pancakes,” she added, her tone turning playful. “It has been a while since I last cooked them.”
Niko froze for only half a second.
Then their face lit up in pure, unfiltered joy. Immediate, and almost overwhelming for both them and their Mama. It was childishly endearing.
“Pancakes?”
Their voice carried a kind of happiness that hadn’t been there all morning. Their Mama smiled at their enthusiasm—really smiled.
It had been a long while since she had last seen them this happy.
“Of course.”
Niko nodded eagerly, the earlier heaviness pulling back just enough to let something softer through.
They were hungry, that was true, but more than that, this felt like something they could hold onto beyond just something to remember. Something they could feel for certain is warm. Something familiar that they could keep. And for now, that was enough for the bright-eyed child.
It may have seemed that all their troubles seems so far away, tucked back into what still felt like just a day before. But today was still warm, still bright, still theirs to spend in any way they wanted... or at least, in any way they possibly could.
And besides, who could ever say no to hazelnut pancakes?