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Damian no longer remembered when the gigantic clock started ticking.
He sat on the floor, rubbing his head as if it would ease the pain caused by the relentless ticking.
Turning his head, he glanced behind him.
The door was still there.
The light bulb above flickered weakly, drawing his attention back to the clock again.
Damian never truly understood why he was so afraid of getting up—of leaving, of ending the pain himself.
He blinked at the clock.
Covering his ears never worked; it only grew louder.
Standing up made him feel dizzy. The door felt impossible to reach.
He was going to be stuck there forever, wasn't he?
Damian smiled at the thought, but it lacked warmth.
His gaze shifted to the corner.
“...So, how are you?” He mumbled, as if the clock were able to hear him.
The clock only ticked in return.
Of course it would.
Damian exhaled slowly. “Right."
He rested his chin on his hand, staring at nothing in particular.
He shifted his weight.
At first, it was nothing. Just a change in how he sat on the floor. His fingers pressed against the ground, like he was checking whether it was still there.
The clock kept ticking.
Though his gaze shifted to somewhere else now.
The door never moved.
Same place. Same shape.
He had always known that.
But he couldn't look away anymore.
His legs felt heavier, numb—probably from sitting for… too long.
Time wasn't something that mattered here anyway.
"Just stand,” Damian muttered to himself, quieter than before.
He pushed himself up.
The room tilted, though he didn't pay any attention to it.
He could feel the ticking growing stronger—louder.
He turned away from the clock.
Damian finally faced the door.
He slowly took a step.
And another.
He swallowed as his hand reached out to grab the doorknob.
He turned the knob.
Before—
"Hello?”
“Is anyone there?"
Damian withdrew his hand.
The voice from the other side was… familiar.
The light bulb flickered.
A knock came from the door in front of him.
He stepped back.
Flicker.
"Hello?”
Flicker.
The muffled voice seemed to linger. Damian opened his mouth, though nothing really came out.
Another knock.
Flicker.
"Who are you?” Damian finally yelled out.
He glanced behind him, the ticking grew slower.
“Damian?" said the voice behind the door. “It's me—Nate!"
“Nate…” Damian whispered to himself. “How do I know if it's actually you?"
“Uh… ask me a question only I would know."
Damian gripped the hem of his jacket.
"What do I always do in the morning?"
For a moment, the faint sound of ticking and Damian’s breathing filled the room.
“...You never wake up in the morning—unless it's important." Nate said softly.
Damian let out a short breath through his nose. “Nate." He smiled—finally.
He didn’t realize he was waiting for Nate to answer until he did.
Damian grabbed the knob again.
Tick.
TICK.
TICK.
The sound slammed against the wall, enough to make Damian turn around again.
“Damian?! What's happening in there?"
Damian’s hand quickly flew to cover his ears. "I-I don't know!"
The doorknob rattled urgently.
"It's not opening!”
A loud thud hit the other side of the door.
Damian flinched.
“Nate?!”
“I tried kicking it!” Nate hissed in pain. “Why is this thing so strong?!”
TICK.
TICK.
Tears began forming in the corner of Damian’s eyes. "It's loud! Too loud! Nate—help me!”
"Damian. Open it from your side!” Nate yelled out urgently.
"No! I can't! It's too loud!”
"Please!”
TICK.
"I'm scared, Nate!”
Nate’s voice grew distant as the ticking continued relentlessly.
Tears continued to stream down Damian’s face.
“Damian! Listen to me!" Nate said, voice strained through the door. "Look at the doorknob!"
“I can’t—"
“You can."
TICK.
“What color is it?”
TICK.
"...Silver."
The light bulb flickered for a second longer.
“Good job." Nate’s voice softened. “Keep looking at it."
Damian blinked.
The ticking stumbled.
"Open the door when you're ready.”
Damian’s hand slowly settled on the knob.
Tick.
“I—I don't know." Damian glanced at the clock across the room.
“It's okay. Don't rush it." Nate said quieter this time.
Damian held his breath.
He slowly turned the doorknob again.
But he stopped.
“It won't let me."
Tick.
“...Maybe it just feels that way? Sorry, I don't know what I'm saying."
Damian blinked. “What?"
“Damian," Nate said, slower now. “Uh. Can you tell me something?"
Tick…
“Yeah." Damian murmured.
"Do you feel the handle?"
Damian’s grip on the knob tightened. "Yeah… It’s cold.”
Tick…
“That’s good… right?" Nate asked quietly. “You can feel it.”
Tick…
Damian looked back at the clock.
“It's still ticking—well, not as loud as before."
“I know." Nate's voice faltered for a moment. “Sorry, I just—I’m trying to think.”
The knob shook softly.
“I…” Nate stopped himself. “God—I’m bad at this."
Tick…
Damian sniffled.
“I don't know how to help you if I can't see what's happening in there." Nate continued shakily.
"...Look—I’m scared too.” He breathed out. "But I'm here for you! You know that, right?”
“Yeah."
Tick…
Neither of them spoke for a while.
Damian kept his grip on the knob, wiping his face with his other hand.
Nate exhaled shakily. "I'm sorry—I feel stupid,” he admitted.
“What?” Damian glanced at the door, as if it were transparent.
“I don't know what I'm supposed to say—or do." Nate laughed weakly. "But I'm here, okay?”
Damian blinked before smiling faintly. "Y-yeah ...Okay.”
“Open the door, please."
Damian inhaled deeply. "I'll try—for you.”
TICK.
"Damian?!” Nate yelled out.
Damian closed his eyes and turned the knob.
TI—
The door cracked open softly. The ticking faltered.
Tick…
Damian reached out.
Nate did too.
Their fingers met through the opening of the door.
"Thank you, Nate."