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elecilaombre · 5 years

Text

Alone

This fic was originally wrote in french, and I struggled quite a lot to translate it without spoiling the meaning behind the words. It’s Tim centric and an “Stalker AU” ( I guess) in a no cape AU, idk... anyway, it’s quite long, around 8k words ... Also it is one of my work who are kind of important for me so I hope you will enjoy it ! And a big thanks to @crypterion-moon who kindly corrected it and helped me to translate it in a correct english, you are a blessing ! And to you @nanadrawsrobins who wanted to read it ! Happy reading !

// trigger warning : mention of paranoia, depression, suicide, death, blood and stalker \\ I don’t believe it’s too hardcore but better safe than not....

“ At first it was just an impression,as if I was being followed, or spied on. From time to time, I’d turn and catch a glimpse of a leaking form. But it was alright, my fault, I always blamed my lack of sleep for those apparitions. Or maybe it was only me being too suspicious for no reason. Indeed, at first, it was only feeling, a bad one…

But suddenly it became more, so much more. Now, I saw - no, I felt - a presence always behind me, close to me. I could catch sight of this thing that was always following me, my eyes seeing glimpse of his silhouette. I was starting to be afraid of turning around and see it there right before me. Never would I have believed that it could have got worse, I thought things would improve, it couldn’t be any worse that how it was now. Except that it didn’t. I couldn’t explain exactly how or when, but the presence kept getting closer and closer. I just shouldn’t let it go by, and I learned that the hard way, the day I heard him breathing, from somewhere inside my own bedroom. He was there. In my own house. Stalking me.

I stayed awake until dawn that night, paralysed with fear … I don’t believe I have slept since …That doesn’t matter right now !

My main point is that I am being followed. Spied on. They are here, somewhere, even while I’m talking to you right now.

Even when I walk in the main hall, with their steps echoing with mine.

Even when I hold my breath, will I am lying stiffly in my bed, I can hear them just before they held their own breath, a moment too late.

Sometimes … Sometimes I swear they are whispering things, cold and dead things.

So, please, I am begging you, help me. I am tired, exhausted. I haven’t had a real night of sleep in days, weeks. I live off coffee and caffeine. And I am so terrified. Not just creeped out… It’s a chilling fear that fills my body.

But you, who is always there, present in every corner of this damn apartment. You, you must have seen them. Even if it’s only once. Just tell me where they are ! Who they are !

Oh I’m begging you, you are me, I am you… So why wouldn’t you help me. To save me ? To save us !”

Tim then fell silent and raised his head toward his reflect. He gave him a sad little smile and the other offered him a crazed one. To think he was alone with this fool.

A cold anger had begun to pervade him, will the other face took on an awful look, deformed by hatred. It made Tim gone berserk.

“ And you dare mock me ! Mock everything that happened to me ? They are going to kill me ! Or worst … Abduct me ! And you think it’s funny ? That is fucking unbelievable ! I surely hope from the bottom of my heart they will butcher you too, maybe that will be enough to erase that stupid smile off your face !”

The other was mimicking him, each one of his ticks, like a grotesque mockery of himself.

And even if Tim heard the door opening, it didn’t stopped his fist to crash against the other face, sending blood everywhere in the process. Cracking the mirror so violently that the glass shattered, sending tiny little pieces everywhere, glasses sinking into Tim’s flesh.

He was done. Already dead. His only hope, himself from the other side, wasn’t there anymore, didn’t wanted to help him.

Tim let himself fall on his knee, surrounded by glass debris, and began to cry. To sob, hysterically, hiccuping and eyes dilated. Smile distorted on his face. However, he still had enough clarity to have heard Stephanie coming in, exclaiming softly, her voice so warm, so reassuring, this was all her. Even her footsteps were soft and calming, as well as her scent or warmth of her skin.

He let himself go against her, eyes stubbornly closed,crying harder, sinking into her arms, her embrace into her, her, and just her. Tim was now crying because he knew. He knew she wasn’t - and couldn’t - be here. He murmured it again and again, she wasn’t here but Oh how he wished for it.

And when he opened his eyes again, Stephanie was, indeed, not within sight. He was alone and he was hallucinating. Tim was just so tired. He rubbed his eyes,trying to rid them of the burning and got up. He could just go to bed. He could finish taking care of his wound and just go to sleep, to take a well deserved rest. Or he could just finish the bandage, make himself a coffee and finish his paperworks. Yeah, that sounded about right. And when he said it out loud, tasting each word like adrénaline, giving them more strength, more tangibility in his weaken mind … He thought he heard a laugh, someone chuckling quietly.

But, well, at this point, was it even important ?

*************************

“I feel like I am losing it… Or I might already had lost my mind. I … I saw Bruce. I saw him yesterday, in a coffee shop. I walked right by him and I just… Runaway !

You know as well as I do that he died, he died too. I am just so exhausted, I can’t do this anymore. I keep seeing each one of them one by one. All those I lost, my brain keeps making them reappear… Or maybe it’s the caffeine that’s making them seems so real.

I really want to sleep now. I don’t think I can’t keep doing this. Or it might be my body craving another dose of coffee … What do you think ?”

The lightbulb sizzled a little, then shut down. Tim sighed, basking in the dark, water clapping softly with the rhythm of his breath. Actually, Tim was quite relaxed right now, even with the lack of sleep. So relaxed he might even let himself sink into Morpheus arms. Might.

The water from the bath was steaming, the bathroom clammy. Tim felt his head nod, sinking softly little bit by little bit in the water, which kept lapping slower and slower as his breath calmed. His mind got fuzzy, forgetting Bruce his deceased father. Or Stephanie, his rotting best friend. Forgetting about the one from the other side, about this foreign breath getting closer.

Then, the clapping intensified, the water rising suddenly, submerging Tim’s face. Tim’s who was panicking, feeling a hand settle on his upper thigh while someone breathed against him.

He then tried to straighten, in full panic, spitting water swallowed by error. Tim slipped, water submerging him once again but still found a way to get out, yelling as loud he could, crying, terrorised. He threw himself right to the door, almost ripping of the knob, ejecting himself in the corridor, feeling a hand brushing against his neck.

Naked, Tim ran past the living room, directly in the kitchen, slipping on the wet floor. He ended by collapsing in there, clutching a knife against his body, breath loud…

And after five minutes of dead calm silence, Tim found the courage to light up the place.

No one. There was nobody. Not even in the bathroom or in any other rooms. He saw nobody.

He was trembling, fear and adrenaline still pumping through his body.

Tim cried all that night, sleep seemed impossible. So he just cried until the sun rose, incapable of putting the knife down or to do anything else than to trace over and over the finger shaped bruise on his tight.

The mark was just confirming his theory, giving a sense of reality to this invisible threat and revealing a new problem : the stalker was done just following. Now they wanted contact and proximity. And so they had ambushed him in the bath.

*******************************

“I am a mess. A living trash. I see things, peoples, events that aren’t real. Yesterday, someone chased me in the street. For something that felt like half and hour. I wouldn’t even had thought I was able to run for so long, not in my state.

And you would never guess who was behind me … Damian. Yes, my deceased brother. Who died with my father. I can’t even empase how terrible it must have felt. And …

I don’t even know why I’m laughing, why it seems so funny to me ! It’s actually kind of depressing, that everyone I had loved had died. That I am so unlucky. It almost sounds like a tragedy.

But, well, at least, you still here, by my side. Maybe it was meant to end with just us two. Maybe you will be enough to replace all my loved one.

I love you so.”

Tim was whispering his thoughts kindly to his coffee pot, while it prepared him the umpteenth cup of coffee got this morning. He was nursing against him an empty mug.

This morning, while busying himself, he had fallen on a nest of the other. It was mainly built of blankets, foods wraps … And thousands and thousands of pictures of him.

And creepier, the blankets were still warm. The other had just left his nest. But Tim was well aware it implied other’s existence and his apartment was big and messy, so many potential place to hide yourself and never be found in this bazaar.

So, yeah, they had made nest everywhere, on Tim’s own space. And this thought made him wring his hands, twisting them painfully with worry marked all over his face, terror and stress in his eyes.

He poured himself another cup of coffee.

**********************

“ I heard howls all night long. I am sure they hooted until dawn. I could almost swear I even heard their wings flapping inside my own bedroom. But I am a rational man. I know it’s impossible. I mean … No howl could get inside my house - that wouldn’t made sense . And never, never they could survive in a big city like here. Oh Gods how I can be so exhausted. I truly wanted to sleep yesterday, I swear ! But it was just like if the other wanted me awake. At least, it’s what seem the more logical to me… That they want to stop me of resting so I get even more careless and repeat my mistake error back in the bathroom. They want me to let my guard down once again so they could get closer.

But it won’t happen, I am too well organised for it. I have a very strict program to give me some release. First, I go to the office where I gave myself a short nap of 20 minutes. And another one before lunch and after. Last one is just before I get back here.

But, no need to be worried, I only allow it because I know fairly well they couldn’t dare to do something there, with so many witnesses around. I took those measures after my fourth sleepless night in a row, knowing I can’t skip sleep forever.

On the other hand, I believe the other is getting reckless, and isn’t as careful anymore. For example, my secretary found one of their hiding spots behind a couch, in a recess of the wall. She notified it to me immediately, worried at the idea of someone living there, under our noses. And I believe I never got so relieved : unwittingly, she just confirmed that this whole situation was real, not my mind playing tricks on me. Confirmed because I obviously doubted myself on this, like if all of it was just a simple delirium from my sick mind. Except that visibly, the other is real, there is truly someone who has been observing me all this time.”

Tim’s lips pulled into a tiny smile, facing the window, a book on his laps. The lights of the city against the night sky calming him, proof of life following his course, even while his own was falling apart. Just like it did when all his friends died in a car accident, Tim losing his childhood friends, his best friends and boyfriend all at once, feeling like his life stopped with them. But it didn’t and kept his own flow, rhythm, still running by, along with time. Just like it did when another car accident took, this time, his family , brother,sister and father, leaving Tim with no reason to live. But he did, because life doesn’t stop for someone’s end. And Tim’s life still kept running without his consent or concern, even with all this pain and sorrow. He shut his eyes tightly, savoring both the burning tears and the dim light.

He thought he heard a movement, like the flapping of wings, a flow of air coming across his face. He opened his eyes abruptly and, in the same moment, with a swift movement, swung at the bird’s head with his book.

The beast emitted a distressed sound, and flopped a little down, his flight shaky. It disappeared in the corridor, and Tim heard a dull sound, notifying him of his fall. He then rushed there, in the darkness of the corridor, despite his head feeling light and nausea filled him after this too quick movement. He lit up the hall and discovered the bird. The poor beast had broken his skull on a door, misoriented by Tim’s strick.

The man grabbed it by his hook and studied it for a long time, oscillating between terror and dismay … Tim had just killed an owl.

*************************

“ Someone slept in my bed this night. I know it because when I was changing, I noticed my sheet were undone… Also, I could still see the shape of their body they left. And it was still warm.

I know it might sound dumb, but I think… I believe they might have been… I don’t know, less active ? I’m not sure but I feel like recently their presence seemed less and less strong, as if they weren’t there anymore.

At least, the night, I don’t hear them anymore. I don’t see them. I just don’t feel them. Of course, during the day, the situation is worse. They follow me everywhere, it’s usual, but now they are harassing me, calling me at my office, or even sometimes on my phones, both work and personal. Most of the time, they doesn’t talk, just stay on line, breathing heavily. Except on a few occasions were they talked, whispering me all the things they wanted to do to me, horrors and nightmares, explaining the reason of their obsessions. How much they desire to touch me, to smell me, taste me.

Sometimes, I’m the one doing the talking. I beg, I yell and scream, throwing tantrum, or I cry, always asking for the same thing : to stop, whatever this is. I even cursed them once.

And, two days ago, I stopped mid-sentences, having lost my train of thought. A silence had planned on the line, for a few long seconds … Before they whispered “ talk to me”. I hang up. I hang up terrified, sure of having done another fatal error. Never had we tried to discuss together and I was fine with this “way”. It was one listening and the other talking. It was an unspoken rule and they broke it. Since, I make sure to have my secretary answer the phone first.

While I am at this, she seems more and more worried. She won’t stop telling me how I should take better care of myself, especially with my past. The worst is that I don’t even have any idea of what ‘past’ she is referring to… I mean, sure, I had some rough times, lost many, many beloved people… But how is that related to taking care of myself ?

Anyways, back again about the other, they seems less and less worried of being caught. For example, only this weeks, they came to my office three times. Three times of them announcing themselves as my brother. Them waiting for me in the entrance. Three times of me yelling at my secretary I wouldn’t get out of my office. That my poor brother was dead ! Dead. Dead … And each time I had a mental breakdown right after it. I can’t continue like this anymore. I am too tired, too exhausted, so done.”

Tim kept cutting in rhythm his vegetables, eyes hypnotised by the blade. He was so lost, in his thoughts, in his life, in this life. The bags under his eyes were a darkish shade of purple, like bruises, proof of too many sleepless nights. Tics were movings his eyelids, as well as his mouth, in random moments.

Tim had always been pale, but at this point, it would have been more correct to say his skin was transparent. Only his eyes stayed the same than before this downfall. They stayed clear, with no redness or blood injected troubling the pure white surrounding a soft sky blue iris and then darkness in there center.

He finally was done with his vegetables, throwing them in a pan and got back to sitting on the bar, observing his apartment. Most of it was surrounded by the darkness but he was okay with that. There wasn’t a sound. Not even one, as if the other was gone. But Tim knew better : they were somewhere near, scrutinizing him and every movement he dared do.

His head wouldn’t stop nodding up and down, he was scared and exhausted. Exhausted of living with this terror and stress. Terrified of letting himself relax. Exhausted of having the pictures of his deceased friends always imposed into his memory.

Tim didn’t want to think of them. It was easier to act as if nothing happened. And truly, in some of his memory it was just like it. After all, he didn’t remember the funeral for any of them, as if just never happend or Tim just wasn’t there. Same for his family.

Tim sighed once more and stretched toward the coffee pot. He wasn’t ready to sleep.

****************************

“ I am scared you know. I mean, I don’t know what to do, how to get out of this situation.

Every body, well, the few people that I see regularly, kept saying how I look so sick, so broken, and I should be more careful because of my accident. I’m not even sure to know what ‘accident’ they are referring too. Also, my secretary kept complaining I drink too much coffee for my own good and how angry would be my doctor, who doesn’t like me taking stimulants, because it stress my organs too much. And there too I don’t get the reference, like if it was some inside joke they all share… Whatever.

All that I know is that she seems more and more weirder these days, suspicious. Like she was stressed, anxious , like if she had some kind of secret concerning me. Or maybe like she had remorse… But I don’t see what she could hide from me.

Except if she was … pairing up with the other? That would be as surprising than horrifying. But I don’t think it’s the case. She just must be worried about her own life, or maybe about me. She is just such a nice girl, she can’t be that bad.

Anyways, I’m happy that I talked to you… You’re always here, such a good listener, I love you so much Cassandra.”

Tim fell silent and listened. Listened to the waiting tone dialling over and over, in the void. The only sound was his breath reverberating through the phone, coming back distorted to his ears. His sister didn’t pick up.

It wasn’t so surprising, he already knew it. After all, she simply couldn’t, being dead for almost 4 years already. Nevermore will she answer and talk with him, calming him, recomforting him… No, nevermore.

Tim put his head in his arms, face turned toward the bay window. It was late, but the young man hadn’t found enough courage to come home. He might just stay right here until the next morning. The light of the city downward were the only source of luminosity, so small with Tim was so high up here. He liked this idea, that he wasn’t with them, detached of this world he didn’t wanted to belong to. All this activity will he was up there slowly falling asleep, the light lulling him.

He needed to be detached, away from anyone. He already lost everything, so it could be so easy to die now. That’s why he wanted nobody around him, not wanting anymore string to this world, to get hurt or hurt. And only when he will be fully alone, only then, Tim wouldn’t have to suffer anymore.

The dim light kept him in this state, half asleep, and then, slightly out, fully asleep. The exhaustion and lack of sleep had reason of him.

And, while Tim’s eyes moved erratically under his eyelid, only then, he dared to enter his office. He took cautious step toward the sleeping man and kneeled next to the desk. His gaze fixed on Tim’s inky hair hiding his face away. The man took off the coffee mug sitting next to Tim, throwing it away in the toilet, cleaning it roughly. Then he got back to his previous spot, kneeling next to his protégé.

He stayed right here, crouched against the desk, caressing Tim’s hair softly, lovingly. The younger man seemed to relax against the touch, falling deeper into sleep. They stayed in this positions for hours, until the first light of dawn appeared. It seemed to motivate him to get up, going to the bathroom to put fresh water in the mug. He then placed it next to a deeply asleep Tim. The young man had finally got his deserved full night of sleep, but his worried and exhausted expression was still present on his features.

The stranger, the intruder, sighed softly and bent down, kissing kindly Tim’s forehead. And,with his hand still on the younger’s one, he scribbled a little note for him. He then kissed him a last time. And left.

He rushed through the stairs to go meet her, waiting at the escape for her. She arrived late, but she always did. They only briefly spoke, him hurrying her, but still thanking her warmly. He had needed to see Tim. Needed. She proposed that they go for a breakfast, or maybe to meet again for lunch. He declined, but told her how thankful he was. After all, she let him get into the building and covered him. He left quickly, and she got upstairs.

It was her job to be here early, her boss was always one of the first one in the office. She snuck a glance into his office, saw that he was still fully asleep and got back to her desk. Two hours later, she heard a scream, an ugly one, full of panic and fear. It was coming from her boss office, proof he finally awoke. It was quickly followed by the sound of glass shattering, a mug crashing down, swatted to the ground. She sighed. Tim was awake.

He indeed was up, acting as if the devil was on his heels, tripping on his own feet. He looked terrified, a little bit crazy and so pitiful, with his big blue eyes full of suppressed tears. It saddened her, knowing she was a little guilty of his state.

Tim left sobbing, without a word, shaking.

His secretary looked at him go, worried of feeling no guilt. Ô the things she was able to do for handsome face…

*****************************

“ You were there. You took advantage of my state, of my weakness. Of me falling asleep. You took advantage of it to come once again torment me, haunt me. To touch me… To violate my space, my life.

I don’t know what you want of me, from me. But I do know you are a monster, a psychopath. A maniac ! You follow me, watch me. You ruin my life. I just want to end it, end everything, end it all. I need to find a way to stop all of it, no matter the consequences.

And what about this note ! Why would you even left me one ? “ Even if you don’t want to see me, I will always be by your side”. Bullshit ! What does you even wanted by that ?

It’s terrible. I feel like I am losing myself, reality beginning to mix with nightmares and visions. I’m going crazy. I’m drowning, I can’t breath, live… I’m drowning in fear, panic, lack of sleep, irrationality.

It’s been fifteen days that I hadn’t been back to my office. Not since you … That you… Since…

Fuck ! STOP IT ! RIGHT NOW ! I can’t , I can’t do it anymore. I wanna die ! I’m done with all of this, the people, the worlds, them, you … with myself too. I just cry all day … And that’s it. I do nothing, I can’t anymore. I’m stuck here, and sick of it. I don’t even dare to get out, I’m so scared to see you. To see the dead. To see all of these who will disappear, and those who already had. I’m so sick of not being able to distinguish between lie and reality. I can’t go out anymore.

I’m stuck. I’m stuck in this place and in my head. I’m stuck. With me. With me and you. You.. I… You must leave. You have to stop. I can’t keep doing this for much longer. I have already lost my mind and sanity. Aren’t you satisfied ? When will you stop tormenting me ! To force me to remember. Ignorance is such bliss….”

Tim ended whispering, adrenaline and anger disappearing until all that was left was his loneliness, abandoned.

He blinked quickly, trying to stop the tears from flowing, even if they already were sliding down his cheeks. And Tim was left alone to weep. Soundlessly. In the dark. Laying on his back, in his bed. Arms hugging himself. He cried.

On his arms, spot color of the sky range. The young man didn’t even remember hurting himself, but those bruises weren’t real for him. They didn’t mattered. He was lost, a lost cause, forsaken. Day and night were becoming one, an indistinct temporal mass. Sometimes he’d find himself in room without any memory of going there, or why. He caught himself multiple time doing round of the rooms, knocking against flat surface, looking under furniture … Searching for someone - or something - hidden away reflex as archaic than childish.

And everytime Tim caught himself doing this, he froze, aware of having close to no control of his own actions. And each time the hours had gone from 2 to 10, without him remembering, losing track of it, it worried him even more. One day, he even found himself covered in spiderwebs and dust, without knowing how or where he got himself this dirty.

He was unstable, incapable of reconstruct his days. But he still knew the howls were watching him with their fluorescents eyes. He knew he couldn’t go in the bathroom, fearing to catch the reflection of the other in the mirror, behind him. He knew he shouldn’t get to close of the bay glass, the dead waiting for him on the balcony.

So Tim cried even more, almost hoping the other would talk, or even breath, right against him. But there wasn’t any noises. No movement. No reaction. The other was gone.

Tim’s felt his throat tighten. Abandon. Once again. Poor Timmy, dumb little Timmy would be left alone. He curled on himself and waited, awake, for the morning to happen.

The other breath reappeared close to 6am.

******************************

“ I couldn’t find my way back. Well, not surprising, I didn’t come here that much, sorry. The gardener helped me, he even told me how to get to my family’s tomb next.

I don’t know why I am here. There isn’t really any valid reason for it, I just felt the need to… It never happened before.

I… Well.. You… Oh gods, I’m blushing now, all of this is absolutely ridiculous. I’m absolutely mortified of never coming to see you by my own will. Of trying to erase you from my life, to forget you for real. You are a whole part of my life. My childhood, my teenage year and the beginning of my adult life.

There is someone, something, who want me to remember you, or at least to think of the dead. For it, they keep me from sleeping, follow me and call for me in the street. Try to usurp the identity of someone they can’t be. Call me to talk about you. Force me to remember.

And the only positive aspect of this whole situation is me finally reconciling myself with my past, and with you all, guys.

I must go, I still have to see my family. I just wanted to say sorry and remember you - and myself - of how much I love you all.

Goodbye.”

Tim felt his voice shaking, tears running down his face, while he disposed flowers in front of the memorial, dedicated to all his friends. To his childhood friends. To his best friend. To his boyfriend. To the dead and the ghost of his childhood.

He stroked the plaque with their name and walked away. He had quite a hard time finding his family’s graves, but maybe he needed this time to prepare himself for it. Because it was going to be ugly and he knew it very well.

He indeed broke down in tears when he finally got in front of them, ugly sobbing for quite a long time, until it calmed a little. Tim never felt that pathetic, that pitiful, fragile. Then, word began to fall from his mouth, rain of apologies, remorse and regrets, flooding in an impetus flow. Tim didn’t bothered to stop it. And, when he was done, he felt a feeling of relief flood through his mind. He finally talked to the dead.

Tim began to lay a flower for each of them.

“To Bruce, beloved father and friend. He protected and loved the out cast”. A bouquet of lys.

“To Cassandra, beloved sister and daughter. She lived without regrets or remorse.”. A Camelia’s bouquet.

“To Tim. Son and bother. Other died so he lived”.

He froze. It was wrong. On the third tomb should had been Damian’s name. Not Tim’s. NOT HIS !

In full panic, he threw himself on his knees, finger deciphering the words. It indeed wasn’t his name. Neither it was Damian’s. It was someone else’s, a stranger stele.

Tim straightened and finally saw him. His dead father. He seemed younger. He seemed alive. He seemed surprised of seeing him. And while Bruce took a step toward him, hands stretching to grasp Tim, this one ran.

He didn’t slow down for the two hours ride it took to get back to his apartment, focused on the road. It’s only when his door locked behind him that he collapsed, hands clasped around his heads, screaming behind the closed door.

*****************

“ I shouldn’t have come back. It’s dumb, I didn’t even wanted to. But, well, turns out I am here. And likely you didn’t expected me. You thought I would disappear, or worse, be cast out. You thought I would just be abandoned … And that you would win, and that without me being even aware of us playing against each other.

But, sweetie, you are way too stupid to beat me. I always had been greatest at this kind of game, I’m not a quitter and I have stamina… You are so dumb you didn’t even noticed you were only a mere pawn… Brainless secretary.

Although, I hadn’t been this efficient either. After all, I was dumb enough to trust you and never doubt you… That was as stupid as your action. Anyway, it won’t change the fact they lost. They aren’t aware of it right now, but they have lost. No matter what they are to you. No matter what I might be for them. No matter what they think they are to me. I’m going to end this sick game. And I will make sure you will suffer the consequences. Or just suffer. I will make sure you won’t be able of closing your eyes without doubting of being able to open them once again. I wish, almost wish, you will die, so I won’t have to see your face ever again. But, Jessica, I won’t do it… After all, you are my secretary …

I will be the first suspect of your murder. But I still need you to suffer. To suffer as much I did those 4 last months. I want you to fall on this hellscape like I just did.

But don’t worry, I will catch this son of a bitch and make him regret his fucking fixation. I’m not an object, I’m not breakable. I’m not malleable. And I’m not fucking rational ! NOT ANYMORE !

So now, you will be a good girl and tell me who employed you. Who you helped to play me this ‘trick’. Tell me so I can end it for real with them. SO … WHO. IS. IT. WHO ?”

Jessica began to cry once again in front of Tim. She was unable to articulate two coherent words and it only pissed off the man more. He threw suddenly his coffee mug through the room, sending it to shatter on the opposite wall, missing Jessica. She curled on herself, yelling even more.

Tim massaged his head, feeling a headache coming. She should shut up soon or he will lose the poor self control he maintain. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. No, Tim won’t hit here. No, he won’t lose control. No, he didn’t tried to aim the mug at her. You must understand Jessica, the poor man is exhausted, so stressed. He just lost a little his calm but he is better now. He just needed to know who left the note signed by his brother. And after, he could rest. After he would be better, calmer, and will finally stop yelling at her. Maybe he wouldn’t even take her to the justice… He just needed a name Jessica, just a name.

But the secretary wouldn’t talk, keeping her mouth sealed, mute if excepted the sob. So Tim sighed. He couldn’t do it, he didn’t know what to do. Maybe he wasn’t awake enough to think straight… Maybe he needed a nap… Or a coffee, yeah, that sounded about right ! After he could handle in a better way this whole situation !

He stopped only when he registered Jessica giggles, horribly distorted and ugly in her rattle voice. She never had a pretty laugh, more a travesty of one, something sounding like a cackling. No, Jessica never had a nice laugh and this one wasn’t an exception. Tim realized she wasn’t even trying to hide the truth now, because she believed she had the upperhand in this. That she was smarter, than him, than them.

She explained everything, proudly, sure of having outsmarted both of them, tears turning into a smug grin. Yes, she helped them to find Tim. Yes, thanks to her, they got Tim’s address. Yes, she was also the one who helped them to sneak in the office. Yes, yes , yes she was the one who made it all. All of this… And who could blame her ? It wasn’t her fault, oh no no no. It was Tim’s fault. He caused this whole situation all by himself. After all, it was him who drank too much coffee for his own good… Or refused to go see a doctor … Who denied the simple existence of his accidents and their sequelae. It was Tim who had stopped to even try to sleep, live and eat !

And, indeed, she started to do all of this for him. She really wanted to help you, Timmy, you know ? To help you get out of this whole paranoia spiral thing, this psychosis he had. So she called them, revealing him where Tim’s place were.

And, at one point, quite quickly actually, it wasn’t about Tim anymore, but about herself. The other was gorgeous. They were desperate. They were heart broken,weakened by Tim’s rejection. So, yeah, at one point it wasn’t for Tim at all, she switched camps, she was there to help the other. They needed affection so badly, craved it, and Jessica was the solution. Her objective had become to have him for herself, maybe even get rid of Tim, never mind of him. She wanted them in her bed, in her arms.

Today, she reached her goal, almost there. The other would give up soon. And for Tim, given his state, it was only a matter of time before he mess up, make an - another - error, which would either get him to a psychiatrist hospital, or to the tomb.

Jessica almost have her date, almost, she was so close to it. The other promised her a dinner for after he got a chance to talk to Tim. Both of them were so close to their goal.

And that, Tim just realized it. She had almost reached it, at least it’s what the other made her believe. They had baited her with a promise of a pseudo relationship, in exchange for him. His stupid secretary had sold him for a one night hook up. Apparently he wasn’t worth much more.

To be fair, she was just plainly lying to herself, at what point sending a stalker after Tim was for his so called “ well being” ? Did she truly believe they would heal him of his paranoia by spying on him !

She was crazy. Jessica had lost her goddamn mind… She had sent him a stalker … A STALKER ! And she HELPED them !

So Tim did what he did best : he panicked. Once again. She betrayed him, she knew everything about him and she sold him… And what would have happened if Tim hadn’t confrontate her ? Jessica would have let the other go to the end of his fantasy, even if it mean mean Tim’s death ?

Then, Jessica made another error. One of too many. She announced point blank to Tim how she invited the other to catch up with them here. In Tim’s own office, with the whole building being empty… But she reassured him, no need to worry, they just wanted to talk, and once it will be done, she will finally have her date with them. And no, Tim hadn’t a word to say about them coming here, it was already engaged, too late to back up. He was just so lucky to have such a handsome brother.

It finally clicked on Tim’s overwhelmed mind. Of course ! She had believed them ! She fell into their trap like the idiot she has always had been… Jessica believed they were related to Tim, but it couldn’t be possible in anyways. Because Damian and Cass, his only siblings were dead.

He got up quickly, realizing they were going to show up soon. Tim needed to get out of here or he’d be a dead man when they arrived. Jessica reacted quickly, displeasure at Tim’s attempts to ruin her chances of that date clear on her face. Given Tim’s manic and sleep deprived state, it wasn’t hard, catching him by the collar and pulling him back before he could make it to the door.

It might be because she was way taller than Tim, or because the young man was in such a bad state that Jessica believed she could overpower him. She just ignored how much caffeine was currently pumping through Tim’s vein, how much adrenalin fear could release in a body, how much strength this broken Tim had.

Jessica just had time to pull on his arms that he punched her in the stomach, before knocking her down. His head was full of noise, of fear, he didn’t have time for this, he didn’t have enough time, he couldn’t … He hasn’t… She shouldn’t … She grabbed his legs; pulling hard and he lost it again. He lost his train of thought. He lost control. Tim tried to free his legs, he had to go and when he saw it wasn’t working, he just grabbed a chair next to him and began to hit her repeatedly. He hit her, over and over, until she curled on herself, letting go of his pants.

Jessica was fine, she was fine, it was mostly bruises, maybe a broken ribs, Tim repeated himself while he hurtled down the stairs. After all she deserved it, she was going to be fine, just fine, he didn’t have enough strength to hurt her too badly. He kept saying it over and over, while sprinting through the darks alleys, alone, odd mirage in the night. He kept himself to think how close he had been to be caught by them until he locked the door behind him.

Less than five minutes after his escape, a silhouette would lean over Jessica, before calling 911.

********************

“ I know you don’t wish to see me or hear from me. But I need to tell you something. You don’t have to answer, or even to believe me… Please, just listen for once. And I want you to know I respected your privacy until now, I never came here because I never thought you needed help that much. But right now you didn’t leave me any choice. I hoped, truly, you would get better without me having to step in the picture, but turns out I had been wrong, the events of this afternoon talk for themselves I think.

This time, I’m not here to tell you how much I miss you, neither of how much I need you in my life, by my side. No, I’m here to help you get a grip on yourself. You can’t keep acting like you do, you are putting yourself in danger. You make yourself sick.

No, please, I hear you moving, don’t go… I’m begging you, just listen to me until the end. And when I’ll be done, you can call the cops on me if you want…

Let’s just go back to the beginning… Six years ago, you and all your friends, your childhood friends, planned a trip to celebrate the end of your classes. And, at the last moment, you call in sick and stayed home, confined to bed.

The bus they had rented might have been a problem, or maybe something else happened … But what we knew, is that they had an accident. And nobody survived. This day, you lost your boyfriend, your best friend, and all your other friends, all at once. It pushed you into depression, which lasted over more than a year…

And two years after, you were doing better, so much better. We thought you had finally accepted it…

Then, Bruce and Cassandra - your dad and sister - had decided to go to the Opera. You had gone all three of you, your whole family minus Damian, your brother. You had an accident, another accident in your life. It was such a stupid one, a drunk driver who collided with your car. The driver died under the shock of the impact, so did Cassandra. Bruce was declared deceased during the hospital ride. You, fell into a deep coma.

Your family got buried when you were still unconscious, you stayed in this state for at least three months.

And, when you finally woke up, you were alone. All alone. They were dead. Your friends. Your family. Dead… Only you were left… And your brother Damian.

So, you can guess what had been my surprise when Jessica contacted me, making me discover an … Interesting fact. Damian was dead. Well, it’s what you had said to everyone you knew. It’s what you convince yourself of. That Damian had a car accident, with your family, and that he died in his coma.

It’s false. And I believe you aren’t even aware of being wrong. Damian is alive. Your brother is alive.

And, even if unconsciously, you prefer to believe he died, so you could detach yourself definitively of everything you loved, I know it wasn’t deliberate.

I can accept you not wanting to believe I am Damian. After all, I had already accepted to stop contacting you like you begged me last time. But, your current health worried me too much to kept myself from staying away from you. So please, I’m begging you, Tim, open up…”

The other voice was hesitant, pleading. Tim was still curled in a nook of the wall. In a cache. His cache.

On the floor, surrounding him, lied dozen of papers. Birth certificate. Death certificate. Press articles. Hospitals bills. And, in the center, nothing, if it is the lack of one death certificate. Damian’s one.

Tim had indeed come to this conclusion. Damian was alive. Damian hadn’t abandon him. So why ? Why was he dead in his mind ?

And, if the other, this person who had been in his office, who tried to contact him… Was really Damian ? Then, did that mean, that this “other” was never in his apartment ? That all along, it had been … him ? Tim ...

It would explain why Tim found himself so many times in the hidden places, without knowing how he found them. Would it be why he never could prove he wasn’t alone… Why he lost the course of the time … Could he be the other ?

Tim curled even more on himself, and sobbed. The other on the other side of the door began to pound on it, imploring Tim to open it, to let them console him.

Tim was slowly being aware of losing touch. But he didn’t wanted to, no, he couldn’t lose control once again and being what he feared for so many months. He had to pull himself together. Right now. He began to bang his head against the wall, the pain keeping him aware.

He got up, slowly and began to walk to the kitchen, shaking like a leaf. He had two choices … To pour himself another cup of coffee… Or to go open to the man who identified as his brother. The one who begged him to open.

And … Suddenly. Black.

Tim regain consciousness of the reality shortly after. The pain was trashing up his brain. He still registered the bloody knife and his forearms open and dripping of scarlet.

Tim yelled, screamed, in full panic mode and run straight to the door. His hands were slippery, but he still succeed to open the door. He then came to a stop, astonished by the vision, right in front of him. His surprise was mirrored by a younger Bruce, with a desperate look in his eyes.

The man then took him in his arms, pulling him close. Tim tried to breath, to stay awake and recognised the smell of the man : Damian. Damian.

“ Oh please, please, Dami… Don’t left me alone. I don’t wanna die ! I don’t want it anymore !”

And, with Tim weeping in his arms, Damian called 911, for the second time in a few hours. He then kept his brother right against him, whispering sweet words and praise. About how much he loved him. About how much he missed him. How he would never again left him alone.

Damian was crying too. His brother was sick. His brother had cut his veins open. His brother was dying once again.

Tim lost consciousness little time before the ambulance arrived.

****************************

While Tim lying unconscious in Damian’s arms, who kept talking to his brother, the dark figure changed of hiding spot, trying to get a little closer to Tim and his brother.

They heard Damian trying to explain to his brother about Jessica and how she would be alright, with no long term complication and with no complaints. That he made sure she wouldn’t approach them anymore. After all, she was crazier than Tim was.

And the third man keep waiting, in the shadow, boiling rage pooling in his stomach. He should be the one touching Tim, he was his protégé… HIS Tim. But he waited, he was patient enough for it. He knew that one way or another, Tim would be his… Soon enough.

So he watched silently Tim go with the paramedics, and with a terrified Damian. And when everybody was gone, when he was sure of it, he got out of his hiding spot.

He stretched, slowly, cat like and find his way to the kitchen. He casually grabbed the knife, and cleaned it, as well as every blood spot.

Tim had almost caught him, the young man knew he was there. He was aware of Tim being intelligent, but had underestimated him. He sighed of satisfaction : he was truly captivating. Even if Ra's has been stalking him for quite a long time, he never got tired of it.

How could he got bored of watching the man sink into worse and worse desilusion. His pretty Tim had first developed an addiction to coffee, then a sudden partial amnesia, quite selective actually, and a compulsive need to stay awake. And the big final one : a second personality !

Ra's guessed it was the lack of sleep who created this split : after all, everytime Tim loose control, letting another facet out, he persisted to take pillows and blankets to make nest, like if his only goals was to get ready for sleep.

Ra's smiled, deep in his thoughts, smelling Tim’s clothes, smelling him. Yes, Ra's was quite pleased of the turning of the events. Tim’s other facet would cover him. Nobody would believe someone, a stranger, had lived hidden in the apartment …

At worst, they would believe Damian’s presence had triggered Tim to believe so. If only Damian hasn’t came here, had let Tim sink just a little bit more, Ra's would finally had the boy for himself. To take him away with him, somewhere nobody could find Tim.

Sadly, he would have to wait. Damian was the brother, he had more right to have Tim. Ra's was just a stalker, a nobody.

They were two to lust after Tim … And Damian had currently won him… But it’s alright, Ra’s is patient.

“ I knew I would find you here Ra's. We need to talk.”

Damian deep voice rumbled in his back. Ra's sighed.

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dancingsparks · 4 years

Text

Alone In The Coldest Dark

Inspired by my Demon Draco Fic I wanted to write a demon Ron as well! So here it is, very angsty with referenced torture but I promise there is a hopeful ending! (kind of, at least)

Thank you @randoyoyo, for being my amazing beta reader and liking this fic enough to convince me to post it!

Also on Ao3

The motions come without thinking, mechanical, second nature by now. It takes surprisingly little to summon a demon.

The chalk isn’t the original one, long since used up and often replaced, worryingly small in your hand. The rug is so used to being raised and curled up, it does most of the work by itself the moment you lift the heavy wards and open the door. The candles, too, have been replaced often since you first thought of summoning a demon.

Not much is needed, but you never once took the final step.

Your eyes are blurry, tears you refuse to let fall shrouding your vision but not halting your hand. You have drawn the circle more often than you combed your hair lately. You could draw it blinded and hung from the ceiling. (You ignore the nausea threatening to overcome you at the realisation that you might just as easily be blinded and hanging from the ceiling right now.)

Drawing the circle doesn’t take longer because you can hardly see, it takes longer because you can’t stop shaking. You thought about lighting the candles early, chasing the cold out of the small space, but this shaking is not produced by cold, can’t be cured with a few candles. It would only waste precious wax.

The candles already hover where they are supposed to be, every single one of them exact, not one out of place.

You know the spell by heart, can feel the words and their power churning under your skin. It’s borrowed magic, not yours, coming at a high price, tormenting and calling for you.

With a flick of your wrist, the candles flare and awaken.

This is how far you have come, where you hesitate, paralysed.

The house is silent around you, waiting, anticipation high in the air.

Dust dances over the candles, settles on the meticulously drawn lines of the circle.

The scene is all too familiar to you.

You don’t have much time left. It’s a miracle you got as much as you got, you can’t waste it. And yet, at every unsupervised minute you find yourself here, circle drawn, spell on your lips, candles burning. And all you do is watch the wax fall, watch time pass.

A scream drifts up from the parlour. High — a woman then. She is agony, insufferable pains contorting her body.

It’s horrifying how much feeling can be conveyed in desperate noises, how different the amount of hope in them, of defiance. The woman doesn’t have any hope left; no pride, no dignity, running on nothing but the bare bones and a single minded determination not to break.

It might be your mother.

You close your eyes.

You try to close your mind, too, build a shield the pain cannot penetrate. It’s useless, it always is, the scream piercing the feeble boundary without any effort.

The scream changes, something breaks. She breaks. You can feel it through the entire house, feel it flinch, feel it shift.

It’s not silent, far from it, but she left. The screams are empty, monotone. Boring. They are going to stop soon. Dispose of the body, no longer of use.

They will call for you soon.

You could have saved her, could have gotten her out of here. Instead you stood here, all the tools in the palm of your hand and watching the dust dance.

You let her die.

The screams stop. They will need someone to get rid of the body, already moved on to their next victim.

It’s now or never, wait for the next moment, risk your father at the end of a wand, your mother (if she isn’t dead yet).

You pick up the book. You know the words, don’t need the book, but you clutch at it like a lifeline anyway.

Slowly, you form the incantation, voice rough from disuse, feeling miles away from the situation.

You don’t see the words, don’t hear them, have no idea what you are saying.

Nothing happens.

The candles burn, the dust dances, the book is heavy in your hands and nothing happens.

This is what you have been afraid of? What you based all your hopes on?

You thought you found a way out, to get your parents to safety, end this.

Rage builds up in you, overtakes the cold emptiness and lights a fire you forgot you have.

This is not what was promised. Unimaginable powers, an invincible servant bound to you and only you. Your only escape.

This, the unfulfilled silence, the empty room, it’s more than disappointing. It’s your death-sentence. It means you will die here, will watch your parents be tortured until they beg for death, will be even less than the skeletons of themselves they are right now.

And it’s all your fault, for not killing Dumbledore, for placing their fate on a musty old book, for not getting out the words early enough to find a new hope. All for some pathetic, useless, futile —

“Careful, no need to be rude.” You freeze. The voice is amused, sliding around you and pressing against your mind, but danger is lurking just a few steps further.

“If you are done insulting me now, I would like to get on with this. You really couldn’t have chosen a smaller room, could you?” The demon is nothing like you expected, much more human than any of the illustrations. He is covered in freckles, dancing over his skin like burning stars, red hair falling into his eyes and a cruel twist to his lips.

He is there like nothing else is lately, colours vibrant, magic thrumming through the air, calling you, pulling you closer like a moth to the flame. His smell surrounds you, something deep, something warm, something scorched, ever-changing, shifting in subtle nuances that don’t allow you to capture it. His voice is like honey, sweet and full, a lie you want to believe in, trickling into your mind and fusing your thoughts together, cloying.

He takes all the fire his absence lighted up, consuming you without even stepping out of the circle that was meant to protect you.

You weren’t prepared for this. You don’t know how to handle this. But you do know what you want, what you called him for.

“I want you to save my parents. I want them to have a happy life, somewhere far away, where they can’t be found by him.” Your voice doesn’t tremble. An accomplishment, however small.

The demon smiles at you, all tooth, no warmth. “Isn’t that precious, want to save mummy and daddy, do you? You want me to give them a nice little house somewhere, let them recover from the horrors they lived through here. How touching.”

The demon is mocking you, you are well aware, but he also has a good point. “Erase their memories. Delete every notion of what happened here, of anything connecting them to this time. Make sure they never want to come here, but take away the horror impressed on their minds.”

“You are aware that that includes you?” The realisation hits you like a punch to the gut, makes you stumble back from the sheer magnitude of it.

The demon is laughing, the cruel sound echoing in your skull, growing louder and louder. It fuels you, gives you back some of the fire he took, gives you something to defy.

“Yes, delete any memory of me too, then.” That stops the demon, cuts the laugh right in half.

He cocks his head, studies you like you said something he didn’t expect, something interesting he wants to study.

“Just make sure they are safe, happy, and will never return to this place.” He doesn’t mock you this time, still looking at you like he is really seeing you. You do your best not to let your fear show, your exhaustion.

“And why would I do that? What do I get in return?” It’s not really a question, there is only one payment demons accept — souls. The only room to debate is over when they get the soul, how much time anyone stupid or desperate enough to make a deal with a demon gets to enjoy the good part of it, the goad.

You don’t have anything to live for, nothing left for you to stay here for.

“My soul, immediately, if you so wish.” If the demon looked interested before, he is fascinated now. He leans as close to the border as possible, sniffing the air as if he could get a taste of your soul like this. And maybe he can, you spent enough of your worst moments here to have left an imprint.

“You aren’t boring, I’ll give you that. Desperate, but they all are. But there is so much more, guilt, need for approval — I accept your soul.” It’s unsettling, how the demon knows all this, knows just the right buttons to press to make you flinch.

Suspecting the demon is powerful and having it blatantly thrown into your face are two very different things.

But you almost got what you wanted, you won’t back down now, won’t make any mistakes now. “And you will save my parents, secure them long and happy lives?”

The demon nods, distracted, waving it off. “Yes, yes I do. Now come here, give yourself to me, seal the deal.”

There is a knock at the door, sharp and impatient, calling for you. You flinch. You were so close — the demon snaps his fingers, silences the knock and stops the voice. The smile he gives you is almost warm, granting you a favour when he didn’t have to, showing you kindness.

He still hasn’t moved though, standing with his arms open for you, waiting for you to walk into his trap. And you will go, of free will and open-eyed.

The closer you get to the demon, the stronger the allure gets, the pull. You take several steps without even noticing, focused on the countless freckles, the soft lips, the dishevelled hair.

“I don’t even know your name.” It wasn’t a complaint, not really. You would have paid the price anyway, name or no name, but being so close to him, close enough to feel his heat, standing in the eye of the maelstrom — it feels more intimate, important.

“It’s Ron.” You are face to face now, almost kissing, Ron’s name whispered in the space between like either absolution or damnation. You can’t tell, you don’t care.

“I’m Draco.” It’s the last thing you say, before Ron bends down, taking your breath, taking your soul.

#draco x ron #ron x draco #demon ron #hp fanfic #my writing

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