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trashbag-usa · 5 years

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Living Between The Walls.

Ugghhh so,,,,,,this took a while,,,,,,,,,,

like,,,,,,two weeks,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

But that's fine!!! I busted this mess out in one night (aka 8 straight hours of writing after not sleeping) and I'm happy with it!!!!

later in this thing we play The Prounoun Game a lot so just letting ya know that every capitalized pronoun (I.e; She, He, They) is our favorte 3D Thot, bc I don't want anyone to get lost. uwu

It's pretty long oops

so sit back and enjoy!!!

Numbness.

That's what it was like.

Similar to the sensation of leaning on your arm so long that you begin to lose feeling in your fingers.

Just like that, except the numbness would last over years. And no matter how much you flexed your hands in a knee-jerk attempt to return blood flow to your hand, the familiar sensation of pins and needles never leaves your fingertips.

Maybe not a relatable experience for everyone, but it's an experience that District Attorney; Antony Drake knew all too well.

Day in and day out, he spent lord knows how long in The Void, or the "Upside Down", whatever you'd like to call it.

Antony simply called it Hell.

Fingers traced along the glowing spider web of cracks in glass, brow furrowed as he thought back for the millionth time to the events that brought him here.

Christ, he used to be so angry.

He swore he'd break out, that if They returned, he'd tell Them, Him, exactly what he went through after he was abandoned.

Now he was just begging for Him to come back. He didn't even have to explain His betrayal, Antony would give anything to speak and not hear only his own voice echoing back.

He could feel the urge to cry slowly begin to bubble up in his chest almost painfully, but he's cried out for so long that he had no more tears left to feed into those feelings.

Antony yanked his hand away from the mirror as if it burned him. Of course, that would be silly. Since he wouldn't even be able to tell if it did.

He wished this place could numb his emotions the same way it did his body.

Grabbing his own wrist, he stumbled back, glancing down at his hand with the repeated flexing of his fingers.

No feeling. No change.

He sighed.

Antony's eyes traced slowly through the desaturated room before his gaze landed on a window to his right.

It was daytime.

In fact, the entire room was lit up in ribbons of grey-blue light.

Since when did that happen?

He sighed, almost relived. These days, sunlight was one of his only companions, though it still pained him that he could no longer feel the warmth of it on his skin.

Everything down there was cold.

Still, he strode closer to the window, practically collapsing to the floor in the rays of dull light.

He pressed his back against the wall, hugging his knees and bowing his head, squeezing his eyes shut as if the tighter he shut them, the sooner he would be unconscious.

He knew it wasn't true, he learned long, long ago that he couldn't even hope to dream in this place.

There was no way of telling how long he sat there, he just knew time passed, but he didn't physically change.

He didn't feel tired, no hunger, no pain when he stood in the same position for what seemed like hours, maybe days. It was a strange way to live.

Well, exist. No one would call this living.

Antony's head swung up when he heard the sound of a door creaking open.

He jumped to his feet, making a beeline down the hall before he heard.. Voices.

He stopped in his tracks.

"We're telling you, Grey Jim! There's something in here! Demons! Ghosts! It tried to lock us out last time, right, Jim?

This is the best scoop for a new segment on Father Jim's show!"

Oh god, it was those kids again?!

Didn't he manage to throw a book at them last time? What the hell made those guys so persistent?!

And from context clues, he could tell they brought someone new this time. What luck.

As much as he needed company, he couldn't risk other peoples lives like that for the sake of his own loneliness.

The groundskeeper mentioned it, didn't he? Wasn't there something in the house? Some sort of curse?

He couldn't allow them to stay, not even for a minute. No one deserved to suffer his fate, the fate his friends faced.

God only knows how this whole thing works and until he finds out, NOBODY is allowed within the manors walls, not if he had something to say about it.

He looked around for anything to carry, quickly locking his eyes on a stone statuette, slow to reach out and grasping at it quickly.

Releasing a breath he didn't even know he was holding, he smiled to see the small item held tightly in his grip. He was getting better at that.

Antony turned the corner and his jaw dropped, the statutette immediately slipping right though his hand like a phantom, clattering when it hit the ground.

It was Him. Her? Them?

Both of Them, in a body he could now hardly recognize.

Which was strange, because it was HIS body. A body THEY stole from him.

He was frozen in his tracks, he could only watch as the two men behind Them jumped dramatically at the sound of stone falling onto the wooden flooring.

He noticed both men turned their horrified gazes to the statue, however..

They looked straight down the hall.

Right at him.

They couldn't see him, could They?

He saw a grin creep up on Their features before They spun on Their heel, a scoff breaking the uncomfortable silence between everyone in the manor.

"Wipe that look off of your faces. Don't tell me you're scared of a statue.."

One of the terrified twins looked up at the taller figure, the other only hiding behind his brother, keeping a trembling grip on what appeared to be a camera.

"That proves it," one twin stammered, hugging a microphone to his chest like a teddy bear. "It was the demon! Nothing falls on its own, Grey Jim!"

They tutted disappointedly at that, like a father about to begin lecturing his child.

"There are many reasons why something could fall. This house is quite ancient, any number of things could've caused it.

You've wasted quite enough of my time with this, Jims. You had better head back to Wilford.

Don't speak of this again."

And with that, They turned away, eyes now fixated on the little stone statue lying on the floor.

The twins, (or, er, Jims?) stood to their full hight, the one with the microphone crossing his arms like an angry child.

"But, Jim-!"

He barely got any words out before They looked back at the two. Of course, Antony couldn't see Their face, but he could see the twin with the microphone's expression instantly change from frustration to fear, the twin with the camera turning white as a sheet.

Jim grasped backwards with his hand until he could take his brothers arm, quickly turning away and muttering a frightened "c'mon Jim," under his breath before they both bolted for the front door, stumbling over each others feet as they ran.

Antony was immediately torn from his frozen state after he heard the click-clack of shoes slowly advancing towards him, every bone in his ethereal body singing out in a chorus, begging him to run.

And that's what he did.

He pushed himself to run, feeling as though his chest was caving in as he made his way back to the mirror, where he could see the world outside this frozen void in full, shining monochrome, with stray flecks of red and blue.

A permanent reminder of the wayward souls that trapped him here.

He stood in front of the mirror as if he was hiding behind it. God, years he spent praying to whatever deity that may exist, begging that Damien returns, that he finally has the answer as to why he was thrown out, trapped, looked at with such contempt before he was abandoned.

And now that the chance was near, he was hiding like a coward, and he didn't even know from what. He longed to leave, but still, every nerve in his hollow body screamed to him that this was wrong, that he had to escape Their gaze somehow.

Antony's breath quickened as he stared out into the world beyond the mirror, tears welling up in his eyes as he heard Their shoes, signalling Their path into the parlor.

Then he saw Them, walking into the frame.

They looked into Their reflection with a face that wasn't Their own, but wasn't his either, inspecting it, scrutinizing it.

They placed Their hand on the mirror.

Antony felt as though he had no choice but to do the same, hesitantly laying his hand against the same spot They did, tears running down his cheeks.

Then, the mirror went dark.

Suddenly, it no longer glowed.

It didn't sparkle and static, it didn't blind him with blue, red and white. Before Antony could even process what that could mean for him, he felt fingers lace between his.

And They pulled him out.

Shutting his eyes, he took in the sensation of warmth on his hand, running throughout his body.

It was a struggle.

While being forced into the mirror was like a punch in the gut, the wind knocked out of your lungs, being taken out was like squeezing through a hole you're a little too big for.

Like the fabric of the universe itself was scraping against his sides as They pulled him through.

Next thing he knew, he was on his knees.

His eyes fluttered open, head bowed, but he could still see the floor.

It was brown. Not dingy black and near colorless like the void he was stuck in.

He pressed his hands against the ground and felt dust cling to his skin.

He felt it. He felt every ridge between floorboards, every dust bunny that flew up to hit him in the face, giving him the urge to sneeze.

He instantly lifted up his head, looking around frantically as he took in the colors, the sounds. The smell of the musty old manor he was in wasn't pleasant, but he could still sense it all.

He could feel warmth on his face as he looked directly into a sunbeam shining through one of many windows.

Every aspect of life he would curse before was everything he was begging to have back at this very moment.

He used to hate waking up with sunlight in his eyes, now he was crying at the sensation.

Hearing the creak of floorboards was so surreal that he could bearly register what it meant before he heard Them clear Their throat seconds after.

He looked in the direction of the sound, only to see Them, crouched down so low that They were inches from his face.

"Antony, old friend.."

They spoke. He spoke? He couldn't tell which one it was. They spoke in a voice that wasn't Theirs, not that it was even his own.

He saw Them reach a hand out to him, and it took a few seconds before he took the silent offer.

Both entities stood, Antony's legs trembling under his weight, along with a slow burning pain.

"Dames? Damien..?"

Christ, how long had it been since he last spoke? His cracking voice was even grating to himself.

In that moment, Their whole demeanor changed.

They rolled Their shoulders back as They released his hand, brows knitted together and eyes closed as if They were deep in thought, hands behind Their back, unnervingly silent. They tilted Their head to the side and an audible "CRACK" was heard, a look of discomfort appearing on Their face.

Antony felt the need to fill the silence with words, but he couldn't speak, it was like some unknown force seized his throat in Their presence. He inspected Them, taking note of Their grey skin and familiar aura, red and blue overlapping, growing and shifting as if each color were fighting for prominence, a spotlight for an invisible audience.

Then They looked down at him.

Their face quickly softened, Their expression kind and cautious, hands now removed from behind Their back, They fiddled with Their crisp suit a little, smoothing it down before They simply twiddled Their thumbs.

The aura stretching around them both became overwhelmingly blue, if only for a moment. They no longer flickered like a projection or a trick of the light, the grey that dulled Their skin had drained away.

Antony stumbled back, he couldn't handle this, he couldn't process all of it at once, he felt sick, pained.

Pressing a hand to his stomach, he looked down, feeling something wet and cold clinging to his skin.

He raised his palm. It was pitch black, like ink, dripping and viscous, like..

Blood.

He looked when he heard Them, no, it was Him, that was Damien just across from him, walking over, closing the newly made gap between them.

Something about it was wrong.

Something sent shivers up his spine, but he couldn't find out what it was. He was free, he was being reunited with his best friend, the love of his life. What about this could possibly bother him?

They-, He, Damien sent him a concerned glance, expression full of sorrow and regret.

"Love, what's wrong..?"

He couldn't do this anymore.

Why would he torment himself, questioning this? He couldn't stop, it nagged at him.

But it only brought him guilt when he saw the look on Damien's face.

He reached out a trembling hand, but Damien didn't grab it. It hung in the air for a moment before he grabbed Damien's arm, pulling Him close.

He felt Damien's arms around him, but panic set in as soon as he became aware of it, sorrow and frustration pent up over lord knows how many years washing over him in gigantic waves.

He let out a choked sob, pulling away to hammer his fists against Damien's chest. He didn't move, it was like hitting a marble statue.

"How could you?! I loved you! Why did you-? What did I ever do to you?!" Antony cried, bowing his head with closed eyes as he downright refused to look up. To see those eyes and fall in love all over again, to miss Him.

He felt his arms get weaker with every hit. He really couldn't keep this up.

He couldn't go on pretending that he was angry, that he was furious enough to fight the man he loved for years, that he was so hurt he could never forgive Him.

Because the truth was, he was lonely.

He was so alone for so, so long.

He doesn't even want to talk about it anymore.

He just wants Him.

He want's his Damien.

More than anything, he wants to forget what happened, he just wants to be held again and know that it's real.

Antony only noticed he had dissolved into tears when he felt His hands on his wrists, His grip strong, but not painful.

Looking into His eyes was like falling asleep, that sensation of dropping off a cliff, the wave of dizziness and disorientation.

"Please, Antony.."

It hurt.

"You're going to hurt yourself."

This hurt much more.

Damien was crowned in red and blue, looking down on Antony in a way that made him feel minuscule. Damien would never make him feel that way. He has to be mistaken, right?

Damien smiled, that sweet, caring smile he held on to the memory of desperately, the one he thought he'd never see again.

"I missed you."

Suddenly, everything was right.

Tears stopped falling, pain stopped tearing through him slowly, it was like time stopped, even the air froze.

The same nerves that called for his departure now cried to get closer, to huddle up in His arms and let His presence heal.

And that's what he did.

Antony practically rammed himself headlong into Damien's chest, arms wrapping around Him and squeezing Him with what little strength he had.

"I missed this.

I missed you, Dames.."

Its lips curled into a smirk, Its hands snaking around Antony as It pat him on the back in a facsimile of comfort.

Too easy.

tag list: @statictay @maniac-fangirl

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