One-shots [Reqs: 5]

First, Last - False Memories

part six!!!!!

HOLY SHIT I'VE BEEN GONE SO LONG I'M SO SORRY GUYS i meant it when i said i was a slow writer asldfjahhhhhhhh

i'm trying to get back into a routine kinda thing, so i can write more and update more, but honestly, between school, my ask blog, my main blog, drawing, planning animatics/skits, and writing, I've been struggling to keep everything updated dlkfja;sldkjafsa

anyways [HURLS BAG OF DOG FOOD] here's this week's sustenance, you starved babies [fuckin runs from the millions of amalgamations that come barreling out of the darkness]

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Nightmare hadn't expected to find Killer here, pacing at the far side of the western common room. It was the last thing he'd expected.

Killer was clearly agitated, rubbing his cranium rather aggressively, grin tight with frustration. His target soul spun like a sawblade, nothing more than a blur of red and white, throwing off negativity like a slingshot would a rock. Nightmare slipped into the room quietly, cautious as he approached. "Killer?"

The other shot him a brief look, his eyes narrowed as he halted. As concerning as it was to see Killer pacing like he'd been, it was as equally unsettling to see him suddenly so still. Nightmare averted his gaze upward, eyelight scanning the old beams in the ceiling. "Is there something bothering you?"

Killer hissed at that, the hard line of tension in his body snapping almost as violently as the foot he slammed into the wall. A collection of scuff marks around where he'd kicked suggested that this wasn't the first time. The longer he looked, the more he noticed how contained the marks were, only covering a specific portion of the wall. Nightmare shifted, uneasy at the implications. Killer kicked the stone harder, barking out a swear. "I can't find the fucking door."

Nightmare blinked. "What?" Killer threw his fist into the wall, his knuckles popping under the force, his volume rising. "I can't find the FUCKING. DOOR." He slapped his hands on his skull, fingertips digging into the bone, his flashing soul spinning faster in his distress.

Letting out a soft breath, Nightmare took ahold of Killer's hands, gently prompting him to tell him what door he was talking about. The dark voids of Killer's eyes grew hard, his hands tearing away from Nightmare to slam into the wall again. "The one that's not here anymore..! It's fucking GONE!!"

Killer's voice broke on the word, and with the stumble, everything else fell away. He deflated, speaking in a soft, hoarse whisper. "There's supposed to- t' be a door here.. I can fuckin' remember it so well. And-. An' it's not. Here."

It clicked then. Why Killer was so distressed by the lack of a door. Killer's memory was impeccable, recording everything with crystal clarity that's comparable to that of a camera. Uncertainty wasn't something Killer felt when it came to his memory. Now that his memory has seemingly lied to him, though..

Killer was clawing at his skull again, whispering frantically over and over, "Where is it, where is it, where is it, where is it..."

The abrupt absence of the usually unfailing certainty was getting to him.

Nightmare hummed softly, easing Killer's hands away from his face again and guiding his distressed companion into an embrace, hellbent on comforting him. Lost in his emotional turmoil, Killer failed to notice the lack of denial towards the existence of a door.

An hour later, after soothing Killer and sending him to sleep, Nightmare returned to the common room, crouching lowly and gingerly brushing his hand over the damaged stones. The rock had been softened by time, breaking easily under Killer's rage.