Endearment

Chapter 1: Star Gazing

Chapter 1 : Star Gazing

The hatchet-wheeling man got up from his disorganized bed, waking up in a sweat. Of course nightmares were a norm for him, nightmares about the accident, and repetition of the screams that came from his now deceased sister. The sheets were drenched in sweat and his heart was pounding out of his chest. "Goddamn it all..." he whispered to himself as he found himself in the palms of his hand, in the verge of tears. "Just don't think about it." He reminded himself as he sat up straight, exhaling sharply and looking up towards the ceiling. "Yeah, you're okay." For how long though is what he wondered to himself. The nights became longer and more of a chore to the young man, how wretched. Similar events have been happening to his fellow proxy, as he recalls. The masked-man that lived down the hall from his room. Right outside, actually. Having nightmares and tiny panic attacks in the middle of the nights or wee hours of the morning.

The notorious Ticci-Toby continued to stare up into the ceiling, however now laying down with his arms crossed below his head. Small rays of lights that seeped in from the moon's light cascaded quite nicely on his bare chest. There wasn't much to it, really. Just a few scars. Stuck in deep thought, he lifted up his blanket a bit at the feel of a few chills that came along with the breeze from his slightly open window. He was wearing plaid boxers with some black socks and was mouth-guardless. His eyes sparkled a bit in the light, and he cracked a smile as he thought of old memories; happy ones.

While this was going on, a certain masked-man that lived across the way had other, however similar events going on in his environment. Staring up into the ceiling, he played with a butterfly knife in his hand, flicking it around every now and then and smirking at thoughts of possibilities. Possibilities of the future, the openings of life if he so wished to be normal. Of course, when he had nothing better to do, he'd imagine how nice it'd be to be normal. Normal, as in not a killer. Normal, as in not having to own blood stained clothes and have knuckles that are on occasion broken and split. Chuckling, a smirk lurked onto his face. "Normality? For me? Ha, what a laugh." His smug chuckles died off after several thoughts of pros and cons of being this so called 'Normal Individual." Everyone had an insane side. Himself, and he knew Toby did as well. Although both of them had very different triggers. Toby would with memories of his sister and the accident, which will cause him to chew on his finger's flesh and Masky with unwanted memories of the past which he had falsely gave himself the impression that they were just nightmares- that they never happened.

Getting up from his uncomfortable bed, Toby stretched and let out a small groan as his back cracked. Quickly, he grabbed a random white hoodie that was carelessly laid on the floor. Slipping it on, he yawned and looked out the window. "It looks like a clear night," he said aloud. "Star gazing sounds pretty good... better than being in here." Frowning, he scanned the room with a monotone gaze. The room wasn't much. Of course, in the Slender mansion, there wasn't really much to it. The woods outside which gave unwanted visitors the need and want to come closer and be jackasses, trying to scare their friends. It gave off a rather eerie feeling to the environment. His small room didn't have many items, either. Not very different from his old room in fact. Simply a desk, a bed, a small closet that didn't hold very much, although that wasn't a problem because he didn't have much to wear in the first place, just his jacket, a few simple black and white shirts, some black commando boots, tank tops here and there and his usual outfit. The walls were a bit cracked and chipped from old age, and the dull, faded blue paint began to peel here and there however, it was barely noticeable.

Walking out of his room, the creaks of the old wooden floor boards made the proxy a bit uneasy. He was used to this but at the same time not by much. The halls seem to have stretched out for forever before he reached the stairs. Swiftly, he made his way to the first floor and scanned the area cautiously. In his mind, he subliminally thanked Slender for the stealth lessons. Slowly, he tippy-toed to the kitchen which was just in front of the entrance of the home. Looking around, he exhaled happily as he knew he was almost out- he just wanted to gaze up into the stars. With a smug smirk, the hatchet-wheeling proxy placed his hand on the frigid door knob of his freedom. "Oh hell yes," he whispered gently, however froze when he heard a crunching noise. "Goin' somewhere?" He turned around to find Masky chewing on some cereal which he was eating directly from the box. He wore a plain black shirt and his hair was messily parted wildly. He was without a mask, which was quite a rare moment since he really didn't like taking it off. However, his hair was covering his eyes so not much was to be seen. "What color were his eyes anyways?" Toby wondered. "You're pretty creepy, stalker much?" The proxy scoffed as he jerked his arm away from the knob, never breaking eye contact with his fellow-proxy. The taller man chuckled a bit as he threw some cereal in his mouth as if they were chips. "Hey, I just heard creaks down the hall and got a bit suspicious as all." The man's voice was deep, yet cracked here and there, but not in a bad way. Masky was a bit muscular however lanky and under weight at the same time. Almost like Toby, however just with a bit more meat. On his arms there were some scars from fights he was in, and there was probably more than just those, at least that's what Toby assumed. "Well, maybe you should mind your own goddamn business." Masky frowned at the harsh tone of his partner-in-crime, however let it go knowing he really was quite bipolar. "Yeah, well for all I know it could've been an intruder."