Chapter Text
"Well done."
"You saw through the veil of The Down Under."
"You are smarter than you look, Ze. Go ahead. Leave."
"I doubt there's anything waiting for you up there anymore. Really depressing to think about."
"Well, not for me."
"Though to be fair, I was never much of an empath."
"Not for you, or the last one, or the ones that may come after."
"But know now."
"You will never be at peace."
"You will always look over your shoulder to see if I'm still present. Because I will indeed. Be. Present."
"Until we meet again."
"If you even manage to get that faarr̴̛̛̛͉̔̓̀͐̈̽̏̀̾̀͐͝r̴̢̮̪̓̋̈́͗̆́́́̒͊͗̈́ŗ̸̖͕̂̋̈́̔̂̿͊̑͝r̶͚̥̻̭̝͓̲̜̃̑̌̉̌́̅͛̌̃͝ŕ̷̜̥͙̄̀̋̈͠ͅ."
Eyes.
The last thing Ze saw before escaping The Down Under. The Eyes. The thought of them alone burns every fiber of his brain, gnawing at his core. Eating away until he’s left with nothing but the feeling of dread. The image of The Eyes pierced through his whole being, pasted onto every dark scene he can imagine. He can’t look at any hole normally without the thought of seeing those eyes once again. Taunting him, torturing him. Laughing at him, constantly, until it’s all he hears. All he thinks about. All he is.
Ze started to wonder if whatever happened to him had left him with some kind of trypophobia. He began to isolate himself ever since his late return home. Fifteen days he was away. Fifteen days he was living a fantasy where nothing he did was real. Nothing. Not the scent of ReGect drifting past his nose whenever the entity was doing some wacky nonsense to be a show off, not the sound of honks from Moe’s horn, whenever she was cheerful or bugging out, not the irritating disputes between himself and Captain Dice, who needed help with Cave Dweller infestations, as if Ze was some kind of roach exterminator with fumigators. It was all fake. Nothing was real.
Yet, it felt so real.
That is terrifying.
Knowing The Eyes can replicate anything. Any scenario, emotion, being, was terrifying. No matter where Ze was in the house, he didn’t feel safe. He constantly questioned reality, whether or not he was truly sitting at the dinner table eating with the real Moe and ReGect, or if it was just another fake scene. He questioned if the food on his plate was actually the roast turkey ReGect had cooked from catching more of those PNG Turkeys, or if it was just another illusion. Ze could be eating maggots and worms for fucks sake. Sometimes he wishes he could be one of those very critters, chewing through dirt, instead of having to decipher this living hell of derealization.
His head was pounding. He couldn’t sleep at night. Was it really that serious?
These were the thoughts rummaging through Ze’s head, having him in a chokehold while he's been staring at the robot AM for ten minutes.
Moe tried honking at him earlier and got no response.
ReGect finally had enough, snapping Ze out of it for his own sake.
“Yo, Ze? Ze!”
The Entity snapped at Ze, trying to get his attention off the image of AM Ze had his eyes glued on. Ze quickly woke up from his deep state of zoning out, taking notice of how sore his legs felt from standing in front of that same image for so long. What the hell? Did he seriously not realize how out of it he was? And in such a public area?
“Ah, shit— Sorry man. Just uh— Just lookin”
”…At AM?”
”Yeah uh…What’s up with you anyway?”
“Well— Honestly, I should be asking you that.”
Ze widened his eyes at Regect, who was now in front of him.
”You’ve been… so out of it ever since our reunion. I know being in that hole must’ve been mental but dude… Even Moe’s worried sick about you. We’ve never seen you like this before, man. I— Even I’m— What’s going on, Ze?”
Ze paused. He just stared at ReGect. ReGect gave him the same look in return, with his gold eye etching through Ze’s skull. Eyes. God. Ze fucking hated eyes now. He wished he didn’t. He couldn’t hate ReGect's eyes of course, but just the thought that he could be staring into an imaginary set of eyes right this moment still made his heart pulse through his chest.
“…What?” ReGect finally blurted, confused from the long glare Ze had locked on him.
Ze finally managed to speak his mind a bit.
“I— Who cares— WHY do you even care? It— It’s none of your business man just…”
“No, Ze. Don’t give me that shit! We’re friends right? Just— talk to me!”
ReGect reached for Ze's shoulder, hoping to ground him before he spiraled any further, seeing how tense and anxious Ze seemed.
“Honk!”
The sharp sound cut through the tension.
They both turned their heads to Moe, who stood just a couple feet away, meeting eye to eye with that bright colorful clown, with such a somber face. Her usual bright cheeky smile was gone, replaced with an expression neither of them saw very often. It’s clear she took notice of how worked up the two are. Her eyes flicked between the two of them before settling on Ze, her lips trembling ever so slightly as if she wanted to honk something but didn't know where to begin.
She was used to all the bickering and arguments Ze and ReGect frequently had. This wasn't the usual back-and-forth she was used to, however. Ze and ReGect argued all the time—over games, over plans, over who had accidentally blown something up—but those arguments always ended the same way. Someone rolled their eyes, someone laughed, and life went on.
This was different.
She wanted to help Ze just as much as ReGect felt that very urgency to.
Moe's shoulders sagged. She quietly stepped between them, resting one hand on ReGect's arm and the other near Ze's, gently urging them toward the couch.
She guided them toward the couch with careful, almost hesitant movements, as though one wrongful move might shatter what little composure Ze had left.
She doesn’t want to lose anyone.
Not again.
They settled into the cushions together. Ze had forgotten how soft they were. He hadn't let himself properly relax since returning home—not really, anyway. Stress took the best of him. Sleep came in fragments, and every waking moment was spent trying to convince himself that the world around him was real. That he wasn't in the hole anymore.
Although Ze wasn’t in his right state of mind, he couldn’t help but feel comforted by such warmth. For the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself sink into the couch with his friends. The warmth of the room, Moe's quiet presence, and ReGect's worried expression chipped away at the walls they'd all built around themselves. It was...nice. Unfamiliar, but nice. He didn't realize how desperately he needed someone to simply be there, next to him. This was a nice change of pace from the constant ruminating.
Maybe, just maybe...He didn't have to carry this alone.
...
Wait.
Ze's shoulders stiffened.
That thought didn't belong to him.
His eyes darted between Moe and ReGect. They looked so genuine. Too genuine. Every worried glance, every sympathetic smile—it all felt painfully convincing.
Just like before.
His stomach twisted.
No. Don't do this.
The Eyes could make people cry. They could make them laugh. They could make them beg. They could make an entire world feel real enough to live in for fifteen days.
So what was stopping them from doing it again?
The room suddenly felt... wrong.
You're falling for it again, huh Ze?
What the fuck. What the fuck is he thinking? Why would he put the weight of his life choices in the hands of people who possibly aren’t even in the same room as him. He wanted Moe's concern to be real. He wanted ReGect's frustration to be real. He wanted this strange little home built from blocks and impossible people to exist exactly as it was.
But what if it didn't?
What if he opened his eyes tomorrow and found himself staring into those tunnels again?
What if he'd never escaped?
”I…”
The words caught in his throat. He couldn't stay here.
Ze stood so abruptly the cushions bounced beneath him. He can’t let his guard down, as much as he wants to. He wants someone to talk to, he’s never felt more belonging than in a place like this, but it’s too much. He can’t take it. He can’t do it. Not even for his friends. Not even for himself.
He quickly rose up after what felt like just a few seconds of sitting. Before either of them could stop him, he turned and hurried upstairs, taking two steps at a time. The bedroom door slammed shut— hard enough to rattle the picture frames hanging on the wall. He was isolating himself, once again.
Silence settled over the living room.
Moe slowly lowered the hand she'd instinctively reached out with.
ReGect stared at the staircase for several long seconds before rubbing the back of his neck.
...What now?
It was late. Too late.
Not sure how late, Ze didn't know the exact time anymore. Somewhere past midnight. Maybe three in the morning. Maybe later. Time had stopped meaning much since he came back.
Ze lay motionless on his bed, shirtless, one arm tightly wrapped around his rifle, like some prized possession. It was the only thing keeping him grounded, keeping him safe. The cold metal pressed against his skin, a reminder that something is real. Something he could feel.
His eyes wander toward the ceiling.
The texture made his stomach twist.
He took in how gross the bumpy texture looks as it spreads across the ceiling. Bumps, cracks. Little uneven shapes spreading across that same surface. It reminded him of holes.
Holes.
His breath caught.
Not holes.
Not again.
Shit, can’t he feel safe in his very own room? God this is hell. He quickly forced his gaze away, shifting his head to his left to face toward the window instead. The curtains were pulled back, hooked at their sides, allowing the moonlight to spill across his room. He took note of how bright the stars look tonight, they look peaceful. Beautiful, even. Oh, how the moon glistened through the window and onto the walls of his room, illuminating a deep glow, not too bright, not too dim.
It should have been comforting.
Somehow, it wasn't.
Ze wasn’t sure what to make of anything anymore.
“I keep having this strange feeling that I’m going to die soon.” He said to himself. "I don’t know why.”
He couldn’t shake it. The certainty, the uncertainty. That feeling that something was coming for him, his friends, everyone. Not someday. Not years from now.
Soon.
Very soon, he fears.
He won't be able to reach out and hold whatever is left in his life, because dread would find him first. His mind kept screaming that death was waiting just outside his door— patiently watching, waiting for the moment he finally slips up.
The feeling crawled through him.
It seized his lungs first, his throat, then his chest, the blood rushing through his veins. The panic spread everywhere, racing through him from his spine to the very hairs of his body. His entire body felt like it was betraying him, every nerve firing at once as if warning him of a threat that wasn't there.
A ticking time bomb. That’s what this is.
He’s just waiting for that very moment, where death will be upon him, and this time, no one would be there to pull him away.
That feeling started to burn, forming from the pit of his stomach, twisting violently before quickly crawling up to his heart. His breathing became uneven. Shallow. Too fast.
Cold sweat gathered against his skin.
His hands began to tremble.
Shit.
Shit, shit, SHIT.
He tightened his grip around his rifle, bracing for whatever the fuck's happening to his body. His chest rose and fell rapidly as each breath became shorter than the last. His panting quickened and sweat dropped from head to toe slowly.
He tried getting up, only for his body to refuse.
Why couldn't he get up? Why was he so weak all of a sudden? Was all that training for nothing?
He didn't spend years trying to make a man out of you just for you to end up like this.
Pathetic.
GET UP!
His body refused.
The force of gravity felt impossible, like the entire world had decided to pin him down.
He couldn’t break out.
He couldn't move.
He couldn’t move no matter how hard he tried.
His fingers wouldn't listen.
He was stuck.
Move.
Move.
MOVE.
Nothing.
His pulse slammed against his ribs, thumping again and again, too fast.
Way too—
Right away his lungs forgot how to work. He tried breathing in, nothing, he tried finding a pace between breaths. Again and again, but it was still not enough. No matter how hard Ze tried to find a rhythm, something steady, something normal, Ze's chest just continued to burn like someone had poured molten iron into it.
“No…”
His voice came out barely more than a rasp. He was breathing, but why couldn't he breathe?
The room suddenly felt too small. The walls looked closer. The ceiling—
Those stupid bumps.
Tiny holes.
Thousands of them.
His gaze snapped away to face the window once more.
Is this it?
Something's clearly wrong. His hands tingled while his fingers felt numb. His vision blurred around the edges, his heartbeat thundered and burned through every pulse in his chest. His throat tightened. He couldn't swallow.
This is it.
I'm dying.
I'm actually dying.
He clutched his rifle tighter, desperately waiting for whatever was happening to pass. It's the most he can do right now while the panic continues, the trembling shaking him to his core. God it was unbearable. He could feel his stomach turning in on itself as his heart was beating faster than ever. He’s going to die. Tears started to swell in his eyes.
“FUCK!” Ze screamed