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„Protagonist, please-” Author stepped closer, hands clutching the stack of papers they had once written alone by candlelight, for this day.
“I do not want to hear it! Do you realize what you are asking of me? To give up my autonomy, give up my self expression, become-”
“Become what?!”
“Become you!”
The mirrors finally stood in silence as one looked at the other and the other looked to the floor, avoiding their gaze. Author knew what they were asking of their other half, they were not incompetent, but this was for the greater good, or at least that's what they keep telling themselves. If they must lie for the loop to remain, if they must keep their protagonist in the dark, then so be it.
The warehouse was empty, light filtered in from a sky neither knew had a sun or not. They never saw it, nor wanted to. Of course, Author had their own sun, one which shined brighter than any star in the sky.
“You will not lose anything, my sun”
“Lying does not suit you.”
Author finally crossed the room from their chair to the reflection that stood across them, taking all of the time in the world. They reached their other and took their hands into their own, avoiding their gaze.
“I am not a liar, my.. Dear Protagonist.” They murmured, rubbing their thumb against the hand they clutch maybe a second too long. “I am simply trying to keep us in line, keep our existence the way it was constructed to be.”
“By whom?!” Protag wept, finally grabbing their other half's hands into theirs and fell to their knees “Who has conducted this?! Who is to blame for this narrative?”
The author felt as though their heart was being torn apart as they sank to their knees, not daring to let go. “Do not weep, my all, my heart can only take so much.” They begged as they brought their foreheads together. “I do not know who is the blame for this symphony, but what I do know is that this is the way it must be, the way it must be written by our hands as we grip the pen.”
“Written you say.. Written for me to.. Forever be an echo of your tragedy? Just an echo of your tragedy? I want to show you, Author.. MY Author,.. That I can be so much more than that! If only you would let me!”
They let a laugh out, so quiet you could call it a whisper as they thought on what the other had said. “Like what?”
The idea sounded so absurd to Author, so beautifully absurd, as were all of Protag's ideas. They always loved to hear of their Protagonist’s ideas, whether it was input on the script they had been writing, or simply a joke that crossed their mind, it brought them back to a beautiful period of their life, a simpler one perhaps when their own mind was painted with the same colours.
“I could be yours..”
The way Protag's eyes sparkled with unshed tears as they looked only towards Author, seeking any semblance of compassion beneath that exterior, any cracks in the porcelain, it caused Author’s heart to feel as though it was being squeezed again, but this time not in empathy at seeing their mirror suffer, but in a way that seems to have caused it to beat faster, louder in their ears.
A pink hue bloomed against Author's cheeks as their breath hitched, finally meeting their eyes. A stunned silence seemed to have enveloped the room as it pulled Author into their own head. “Could it be?” They thought. “Could my hound see myself in the same light as I see them? Could my other half wish for me to stay and simply hearken? The look in their eyes, the way their lips hang agape..”
“Author?” Protag called out, squeezing the other's hand tighter as they brought their face closer with a whisper. “Tell me what is racing through your head”
“I do wonder what they see in me..” Author continued to ponder, simply looking at Protag’s eyes.
“Understand that this is the way it must be, my truth” Author finally opened their mouth “Please, I cannot fight with you for any second longer.”
“Why must I?” They interrogated, broken. “Is it truly worth it? To lose my sense of self, be reborn, only for the sake of keeping a loop in motion? And for what? That loop is not our entire existence, Author!”
“You know nothing!”
“I know more than you!”
The two sat in their shared silence, worse than the last, as they tried finding their words and convince the other.
“I know more than you.” Protag repeated themselves, not breaking eye contact through their lashes. “I know how to breathe, I know how to dance, I know how to live-”
“I know how to live.”
“You know how to survive. There is a big difference between the two, Author. You can write of tragedies all you want, you can depict life as a.. Blooming flower against the rays of the sun, but at the end of the day, it is I who will be playing the scripts you write, it is I who will live through them.”
Silence blooms around them once again, weighing heavy against the pair's shoulders before the hero continues
"You can write me a breakdown and depict me as weak as I know you see yourself, but after you've set the ink down, closed the cover and breathed, your perception will no longer matter.”
“You are scared,” Author muttered, “And that is understandable. It is only natural, but you must face it for our sake.”
“Is that what you think this is? Fear?” Protagonist laughed for a second, a frown appearing across their features. “You think I am scared of obeying? Of being a cog in this machine? Author, this is not fear, it is defiance! My resistance is not out of terror, it is out of my will to remain myself! To have something to call “me”!”
“...”
Their frown had disappeared, the anger drained out of them. An eternal dilemma replayed in their mind over and over again: “do I save my soul or do I ease their worries?”
“.. There really is no winning with you, is there? My Author?”
The Author stood up, leaving their half to the floor on their knees. Too close, they've let themselves get too close to breaking, or being broken. They must assert distance.
“You must face it for..”
“For you?”
Their eyes go wide “For the loop, Protagonist! For the-”
Before they could have distanced themselves, a pair of arms hooked around their neck and let its body limp, Author's hands instinctively going to catch it. “Too close” becomes “so close”, synonyms some might say, just like them.
“You are.. Very close.. Right now.”
“Is that such a crime?”
“Do not push my limits, Protagonist.”
“Those limits you reinforce have been long pushed.”
The hug stretched for a couple of seconds, second felt like an eternity and mere moments at the same time, and Author gradually started to relax until their chin rested in their hair. They knew if Protag went through with this, they would never get a moment like this ever again, a moment so close together; so close yet not too close, not anymore. “This is for the greater good” they told themselves “For the loop. Do not be foolish, do not be selfish, do not hold onto this moment for yourself. They will thank you one day, even if you will be too far away to hear it.”
“My Sun..”
“I do not want to let go. I do not want things to be as they were before.”
“... Then stay as long as you must.. But once you do let go, take my hand and follow it. I will not let go until you can exist by yourself.”
“For you..?”
“... For me.”
They stood in an embrace for what felt like nothing, before Protagonist's eyes finally looked up searching Author's. The other brushed away their tears gently with their thumb before taking their hands into their own.
“It is rusting..” the protagonist muttered.
“It does the job.”
“Is it going to fall with me?”
“I would hope not..”
The moment the protagonist finally sat down, they.. assumed it would've been more life changing than this. They drank in the anticlimactic nature of the moment, before they felt a head laying against their lap. It was just… so out of character for Author to be this vulnerable. Looking down at them, their eyes were closed as their breathing evened. They looked at peace, finally.
Protagonist gazed up, laughing to themselves as they rested their palm against Author's hair.
“You made this seem like such a big deal, Author… And for what? This is.. actually quite nice… Author.. I should have just listened to you sooner, I-”
Before they could have finished their sentence, they feel the void of a presence gone, of a certain warmth now gone cold on their lap. The feeling of their fingers not touching strands of hair, but instead the void.
“Author? No, you are- you are kidding. You are.. Where did you-”
They turned around to look behind them, then left and right, but the only things visible were the few furniture items scattered around the warehouse, and the door they had first come in.
“You are not being funny, Author. If this is your idea of a joke, if-... You cannot be gone.. You- you promised I would not lose anything! You promised it would not hurt me! You lied to me!” they screamed into the void.
As they felt tears prick at their eyes, voices overlapping each other started speaking in their head. “This is your fault”, “they would have told you if they saw you capable of handling it”, “you should have held onto them tighter”.
“please, Author-” a sob escaped them as they held their fists into their shirt, staring at the space Author left empty. “You said- you would not let go of my hand until I was ready..” They sniff “.. Ready to exist by myself.. I cannot exist by myself! Not without you! I do not want to become you either!”
Their sobs and hics eventually settled down as the fight drained out of them. They raised their head, eyes bloodshot, and stared at the lone desk in the opposite corner of the room. Walking towards it, dragging their char with them, they saw a stack of papers and a pen and ink set. Opening the desk’s drawer, it overflowed with letters all signed with “to: Protagonist”. Funny enough, they had never been sent, nor opened.
They closed the drawer. Not today. They sat down on the chair at the desk and opened the ink bottle, dipping the pen in it, before thinking.
A couple of second passed, before they leaned towards the paper and began writing.
“It's a funny thing, ”