Kindred Spirits | Ticci Toby Fanfiction

Chapter Three: If I should stay

"I think I'm going to be sick." I mumbled that same night, freezing as the newscaster began talking about a locksmith who was just found: murdered. The same locksmith who was here earlier. We'd probably be questioned and everything…

Toby.

"Honey, isn't that our locksmith?" My mom asked, glancing up from her book from her perch on the recliner in the corner of our living room. I nodded, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. "Uh, I-I'm going to bed, okay, m-mom? Love you." I muttered as I stood, hurrying up the staircase to my room. I just needed to be alone. To process my thoughts.

Falling onto my bed, I shut my eyes, and cut the rope on my thoughts so they all came tumbling out.

Toby killed my dad for what he did to me, and my family. He also killed the locksmith for trying to molest me. But why? Why me? I don't understand…Out of everyone in the entire world..me? Is it because our stories are so similar? Is it because we're alike? But…if that's the case, why hasn't he made any move to talk to me? We only spoke earlier by accident…I'm so confused. I should just go to sleep.

That's when I heard it.  Tap. Tap. Tippity tap taptap.  Sounded like rain. Or like someone tossing pebbles at my window. The only person who'd do that would be… Toby. I don't want to talk to him..not right now. I might say something

stupid and then be murdered myself. Or maybe that was his plan. Lull me into a sense of security only to burn me down. He can go fuck himself.

So I did what any rational person would. Stuck my middle finger up at the window (I knew he saw my finger. My bed was right under my window.), stuck in my earbuds, cranked Pierce The Veil, and shut my eyes, willing sleep to take over my mind. And it did. But only for an hour or two.

I woke up, my eyes met with yellow goggles, a low screech catching in my throat as a gloved finger presses gently to my lips. "What the fuck!" I whisper-yell as the kid takes a step back. I rip my ear buds from my ears, glaring at the figure. I had a feeling this was the infamous Ticci Toby. I couldn't tell really what he looked like because of the yellow goggles, and mouthpiece, but i could faintly see brown hair fraying out from his hooded head. "What t-the hell do you w-want?" I demanded, anger flaring at his amused chuckle. "Y-you sound just like m-me!" He noted happily, and I imagined a smirk painting his face underneath his mouthpiece. "Actually, y-you sound like you're talking through a-a hole in your throat." I stated boldly, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. "Again: w-what do you want?"

"Hmph." The sound came from the back of his throat as he lowered his mouthpiece, dangling it around his neck. I was correct: his mouth was formed in a perfect smirk. "Does this v-voice fit your standards? It b-better because it's the only r-replacement. Now…what do I want? You. I want y-you. You're like me…down to the c-core. You were made for me. I can't lose you. T-to anything."

My heart swelled to the point where I suspected it may burst. But he was right. It was almost like we were crafted for one another; created only so that we won't be alone. I see his point. And if I were to turn down his offer, I'd regret it…But that still doesn't answer the question: Do I stay or I go?