Varian x Reader Oneshots

The Dreamscape - Part 2

Endless corridors that spun like a deceptive web; the air viscous and poisonous; the ceiling falling closer yet flying away. It was all too much for him, too much for one single boy to handle. Ironic, isn't it? For a genius to be beaten by his own mind. Almost poetic, and, almost fact in most cases. Artists gone mad, composers; deaf. Always beaten by that which we love most.

Although, Varian wasn't sure he was beaten. At least, not yet. There was a clear sound in the air, not as loud as it once was but certainly present, like a carrot on a stick. This particular rabbit walked, overwhelmed, through the halls, not opening the doors just yet. Just listening, craning his ears for more of a sign.

Nothing hurt anymore. Not here. Not the weight of his shoulders or the ache of his eyes or the sting of his wrists - cut deep. It was all null and numb, like it wasn't real. But it felt so... so there. So present. So intense. Like a candle that refused to die, even after the wick is long burnt out.

The floor was glassy and clear yet dulled and misted, like an aged window pane. Varian wondered what he would see through it, through the top layer of his mind down to the bottom. But, as if like clockwork, he pushed it from his thoughts as he did every, single time.

It was grand, but not so, and it was large yet small in the sense of infinity - not a definite number but large enough. But, who knows? Infinity doesn't exist, its as small and as large as you wish, because it cannot be defined. Heck, Varian may end up back where he last stepped in a short click of his heel, or carry on forever into the nothingness - anything was possible. And, as a scientist, that both intrigued and scared him witless.

The noise was near gone now. Nostalgia floated past him in bubbles, and staircases turned on their heads at the slightest inkling he wanted it so. He was in control, but not so.

And that, was the scariest part of it all.

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"Varian!" (Y/N) called, aware that her cries were to no avail. You and Rapunzel followed no signs, or sounds, and had no inkling to where you were going.

"(Y/N) save your breath," Rapunzel advised, her bare feet making no dent in the deafening silence as they crashed into the ground with every step.

You sympathised; it wasn't easy. It seemed Varian's mind was trying to be rid of the pests, to say, them.

Thick air and cascading nightmares, this place was designed to kill. You sincerely hoped that this was just standard however. Varian wouldn't do that.

Would he?

Honestly you weren't sure anymore. Every minute, hour, second you spent here seemed to drain you of the remaining life you had left. Faces faded fast and memories quickened their retreat. And, as demonstrated with Rapunzel, your muscles ached and pulled - trying to drag you into the ground.

It was terrible.

How could this be his mind? The sweet, intuitive, slightly loud boy that you knew couldn't possible be reduced to... well this! in his most basic form. Such a beautiful mind should require a beautiful playground to go with it. This didn't seem right.

"Rapunzel," you breathed, aware of your lungs heaving and breeching against every breath. You could hear her neck creak as she looked up to face you, hear the plea deep within her to stop. Every step was agony.

"Something isn't right," you said, and as if to mirror your concern, a scarlet mist dropped lower over their heads, as if closing them in.

"I know," she replied, out of breath, "but what choice do we have?"

You gritted your teeth, the bile in your throat causing a pain to erupt down your neck as you swallowed it. The hollows of your cheeks were falling in on themselves and your lips were barren of colour.

"Varian," you said defiantly, defiant to the mist, to the atmosphere, to everything. You would find him.

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The voices were louder now. Too loud.

Memories of his father, and his rich laugh that filled the hearty room, his mothers indignant sigh that followed it as she swatted him on the arm. A baby Varian giggling on the floor, rocking on the ball of his back, eyes tight with joy. He could almost smell the almond cake in the oven, and the sweet choke of the fire.

Varian brought his legs up to his chest, his head in his knees as he took in his surroundings. He'd heard of 'voices in your head', but this was too much.

It wasn't bad though.

It was certainly better than it was out there.

The sickly drip of their happiness was like a drug, a drug that distracted Varian of his whims and hardships. Of everything. And, at the same time, it was a constant battering reminder of what he had lost.

That playfulness, that familiarity, that joy.

It was all gone.

Varian reached out, his arm feebly trying to grip at the fog that surrounded him in an attempt to hold on to something! Something pure and beautiful and alive and there.

He recoiled his hand sharply.

There was nothing.

The absence of cold, the abundance of nothingness was all to prevalent; it was disturbing. Disconcerting. Terrifying.

Varian cradled his arm gingerly, staring in horror at the grey that was closing in.

"Varian!"

"Varian can you hear me?"

Varian snapped his head up, his neck clicking, and scrambled to his feet.

"(Y/N)?" He whispered hoarsely, scratched from crying, his eyes dry from the lack of tears.

A vague figure appeared on the other side of the grey. Two grey figures.

"Varian come out please," the first figure begged, and Varian blinked.

Once.

Twice.

"You're not (Y/N)," he said, and ran through the smoke.

"YOU'RE NOT REAL!"