A Hostile Place
Switch AU
A JSE Fanfic
After a brief break last week, I return! I'm so excited to get into all the stuff that happens in the house on Aspen Street, guys, it's gonna be so fun. This first part was actually going to have another scene at the end, but the last scene got a bit long so I decided to save that for next time. Anyway, I'll get right to the summary. Everyone is now stuck in the house, separated from one another. Jackie and Schneep look for the others, JJ has an unexpected fight, and Anti... well. Distorter's not going to let him get away. I hope you guys have fun here! :D
More of This AU | | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Read on AO3 under CrystalNinjaPhoenix
———————
“Jackie? Jackie!”
Jackie blinked his eyes open, suddenly aware of the fact that he’d closed them. His glasses were super crooked, only hooked onto one ear, and he stared up at Schneep’s concerned face—which was a bit blurry around the edges, due to his glasses not being in place. He groaned slightly. “...what happened?”
“The shaking stopped,” Schneep said, glancing around. “I think you passed out at some point during it. I-I felt you go limp and... it worried me...” He trailed off, looking back at Jackie. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah...” Jackie clumsily pushed himself upwards, pulling his glasses back into place. They were still in the living room. Still in the house on Aspen Street. Still alone. “I-I think the pressure was just... too much. Did you feel that...?” His voice dropped to a hush. “It was... it was hard to breathe, it...”
“I felt... more or less okay,” Schneep said slowly. “That pressure must be a mental sensation. One that I am... protected against.” He idly pressed a hand to the side of his head. “The shaking was quite upsetting, though, of course. And there is no sign of where Jamie or Marvin went. Or... Anti. He was supposed to be here by now, with Distorter.”
“I hope he’s okay...” Jackie muttered. He instinctively looked towards the front door—
What front door?
There wasn’t a front door.
There weren’t even any windows.
There was only a blank wall.
Jackie jolted, fear like a knife stabbing into his chest. “...H-H-Henrik?”
“What?” Schneep followed his gaze. His eyes widened, and Jackie saw horror dawn on his face. “...that... is not... normal.”
“N-n-no, it isn’t...” Jackie’s hands were shaking. He folded them beneath his arms, squeezing himself tight. “I... W-w-we’re... s-s-stuck. T-trapped!”
“Jackie? Jackie! Breathe.” Schneep grabbed onto his shoulders, holding him firmly, but not shaking him or anything. “It will be fine.”
“Fine?!” Jackie’s voice broke. “Fine?!”
“Yes, fine.” Schneep’s tone was kind, but firm. “Jackie, you cannot let yourself believe it is not fine right now. I—w-we cannot lose you. You cannot panic.” He paused, then added quietly, “Please. We... need you here.”
Jackie stared at him. Then he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. It was difficult. He could feel the atmosphere of this place weighing down on him. But he leaned against Schneep, who wrapped one arm around him, and focused on the feeling of him instead. He was warm... a contrast to the cold air around them.
“Everything... will be fine,” Schneep repeated quietly. Was he talking to Jackie? Or just to himself? Maybe both of them needed to hear it.
After a minute or two, Jackie opened his eyes again. “Okay... we need... we need to meet up with the others. H-how do we do that? It’s... so hard to navigate around here...”
“Well, I don’t think it is infinite, at least,” Schneep said. “So we are bound to run into something sooner or later.” He glanced around again. “I came in here once to get Marvin’s cards. It was... confusing, but I was able to sort of control my way around by repeating my steps over and over. Just... going in a loop around the house and taking note of when things changed.”
“I guess that’s as good a strategy as any.” Jackie swallowed a lump in his throat. Everything will be fine. Everything will be fine. They needed to project optimistic thoughts, otherwise the gloom of this house will echo back towards them and swallow them whole. Jackie steadied himself mentally, then pushed himself to his feet—only to fall back with a yelp.
“Ack, sorry! We are still connected.” Schneep smiled sheepishly. “And I think... we should probably stay connected, just in case."
"Right, right, good idea." Jackie laughed a little. "Uh, we'll stand up on three, then. One, two, three!” They clambered to their feet together, moving a bit awkwardly. “Alright.” Jackie patted himself down, making sure everything was in place. “Let’s go look around. See if we can find the others.”
———————
Breathe. Breathe.
Anti’s lungs struggled against the pressure. Why was it so hard just to keep breathing?
“Maybe you should just give up on that, then.” Distorter tilted his head to the side, leaning closer. He loomed over where Anti was kneeling, and the air felt heavier with his presence. “Breathing, I mean. It would save everyone a lot of trouble!”
He glared up at him, but he couldn’t speak. Everything was just so much. And Distorter’s earlier words kept echoing in his brain. It’s all his fault. He’s the one who drew everyone here. And now... what would happen to them all?
“Oh, I’ll go find them eventually,” Distorter said. “I just want to make sure you’re... secure, first.”
Wait a second... something didn’t add up here. “H-how are you...” Anti’s throat was dry, the question getting caught on the walls of it. He tried to swallow. “The... charm...”
“Worried about how I know what you’re thinking?” Distorter’s grin widened, and he crouched down so his face was closer to Anti’s. “I told you, I don’t need to see into your mind to know what you’re dwelling on. I know you very very well by now, Aodhán. Maybe even more than my other friends, Marvin and Jackie! Despite them both spending much more time here. You and I... well, I don’t have to say it, do I?”
“We’re... the same...” Anti said quietly, recalling how Distorter said something along those lines earlier in the day.
“Exactly! Are you starting to get it now?” Distorter’s face took up the whole of his vision. “There’s no use denying it!”
“Denying it...” Anti repeated. Distorter couldn’t read his mind right now. So he was... assuming Anti’s reaction. Assuming that Anti... would deny their similarities. Something about that gave him pause. “There’s no use... denying it... You’re... right.” Again, he tried to swallow. “You’re right about that.”
Distorter’s grin widened, and he started to laugh.
“Which is why I stopped hiding it a while ago.”
The laughter stopped mid-sound. Distorter blinked, clearly taken aback as his smile faded a little. “...what?”
“It’s clear you see yourself in me,” Anti said, maintaining eye contact with those black, featureless eyes. “And... that’s why you hate me so much. You don’t like to be reminded of who you really are, don’t you? Because... you hated that man. That’s why no one remembers him. That’s why you’ve always wanted Stacy to leave. You hated who you were, and that’s why you hate me... In a much more... personal way than how you hate Volt or Jackson.” The smallest smile cracked his face. “I think that’s one of the reasons I hated you, too. You knew too much about me, you poked at all the right places... and in the end, we’re similar, aren’t we?”
Distorter said nothing, but Anti saw the way his hands were twitching.
“So yeah, there’s no use denying it anymore,” Anti continued. “I don’t know who you are. But I know who you are. And just like I would... you hate that someone knows you.”
Distorter’s hand shot out, but Anti was prepared. He ducked and rolled to the side, sweeping his leg out. His shin smacked against Distorter’s, knocking him down for a brief moment. Just long enough for Anti to scramble to his feet and back up. “Bitch!” Distorter lashed out again, grabbing Anti’s ankle—clearly, he hadn’t backed up far enough. He pulled, and Anti yelped, grabbing onto the back of an armchair to stay upright. “You don’t understand! You don’t understand... anything!”
“I don’t understand you, but you can understand me? Make up your fucking mind!” Anti kicked his leg, trying to tear it free from Distorter’s grasp.
“It is made up!” Distorter snarled, pulling himself across the floor closer to Anti. “There’s no way you understand anything! You’re a fucking moron who leads his friends into traps! You don’t know shit about anything! Much less about me!”
“You’re just upset you didn’t hurt me like you wanted to!” Anti snapped. He broke his ankle free finally and kicked forwards—kicking right into Distorter’s face with a solid crack of a nose breaking.
Distorter growled like a wild animal, staring up at Anti with narrowed eyes, that smile still stretched across his face, teeth bared like he was ready to bite. He lifted himself farther off the ground, now on his hands and knees, blood dripping from his nose and eyes.
And Anti instantly bolted.
“Fucking coward!” Distorter cried after him. “Get back here!” Footsteps thumped across the carpet.
"No, don’t think I will!” Anti shouted, disappearing into the hallway. His previous experiences here told him that meant he was in a completely new area, alone and away from anyone else. But he still heard those footsteps behind him. Of course Distorter would be able to travel the house at will. Anti’s eyes darted around and he ran to the side, opening up a door and slamming it closed behind him.
THUD! Distorter hit the door the moment it closed. And then... he laughed, a low, creeping sound. “We’re in the same house, Aaaantiiii,” he called, nails scraping down the wood. “You can’t run to a new house to get away from meeee.” The singsong tone dropped in favor of snarling rage. “I’m making sure of it!” Thud—THUD! Distorter hit the door with both fists, one after the other.
“Maybe I don’t want to get away from you, bitch!” Anti snapped.
“Then why’d you run?”
“I regrouped!” Anti turned his head, looking around the room while still holding the door closed. This was a long bedroom. Dark, with no windows... strange, because who would make a bedroom with no windows? But even stranger still, he could make out shapes in the darkness easily. A desk, a chest, a pair of bunk beds... all of it colorless, but all of it in plain view. Like it wasn’t actually dark at all.
“That’s a fancy way of saying you’re scared,” Distorter growled.
“What? Of a freaky gray corpse man who can’t die? What’s so scary about that?” Anti gritted his teeth and tried to make out the specifics as he looked around. Maybe he could find a weapon of some sort in here? Any sort of blunt instrument would do!
“Let me in the room, Aodhán!” Distorter banged against the door some more. “I’ll make it quick! It won’t hurt when I rip that protection charm off and drown your mind in fog!”
“Fuck off, Distorter!” Anti shouted. “I know you’re lying! Because I know you so well!”
Distorter shrieked wordlessly and kept punching and clawing at the door. Anti didn’t move, continuing to hold it closed. Well, at least while Distorter was busy with him, he couldn’t hurt his friends... hopefully.
———————
Jameson fell to the floor during the shaking, as the ground beneath him had bucked like a wild horse, becoming impossible to stand on. His brain rattled around his skull, but there was nothing solid to grab onto. Even the furniture was shaking, afterimages peeling off and disappearing. He tried to think of a spell, but every time his thoughts turned inward, the ground heaved again, his head and limbs slamming against it. The only thing he could do was curl up in a ball and protect his head from the impacts.
When the shaking stopped, he quickly peeked out from behind his arms. His friends were gone. What? How? When? Had the shaking done that? Separated them out into different versions of the house? Why? Could Distorter control this place? Was he aware they were in here the whole time? These questions, and others like them, raced through his mind as he laid there, his body smarting with several newly-developing bruises.
After a moment, his brain processed that nothing was happening, and he slowly uncurled and sat up. The living room looked pretty much the same, except that his friends weren’t here... oh. And the door wasn’t here, either. The doorframe was still in place, as were the window frames, but they looked pasted onto a solid wall.
His heart sank. Now what was he supposed to do? Just... keep wandering around until he found his friends?
No no no. That sounded like a terrible idea. When they wandered around looking for Marvin, things only got worse. Instead, he should... oh! Right, looking for Marvin! He should be able to control the entrances again, like he did back then. And he’ll find his friends easily that way. They can all reunite. No problems here.
JJ staggered to his feet, wincing slightly. He patted himself down quickly, checking to see if anything was serious, but the worst of it was a shallow scrape on his side. Presumably caused by the sharp end of the broken carabiner. But it wasn’t even bleeding, so he left it alone and walked over to that arch towards the kitchen. How did he bring up the kaleidoscope doors last time...? It was sort of like a pulse of magic—
Suddenly, his foot caught on something. JJ cried out as he tripped. He was barely able to catch himself, preventing his head from hitting the ground, but still gaining a few more bruises to join the others. Quickly, he pushed himself to a kneeling position and looked back at the ground.
A black power cord extended from a lamp near the sofa to the wall. He must have missed that... Strange place to plug in a lamp, though. The cord went diagonally across the floor at an awkward angle. Surely there was one closer to the sofa that would be easier to plug into. But who was he to judge?
He got up and started forward again.
Then something wrapped around ankle and pulled him into tripping again! The breath was knocked out of him as he landed this time, and he gasped for a few seconds to catch it again. That felt different. He twisted around.
The lamp’s power cord was looped around his ankle. In a way that... seemed unnatural. There hadn’t been a loop in the cord when it was on the ground. Jameson felt his stomach drop in dread.
He tried to kick the cord away. But it tightened, as if in defiance. His eyes went wide, and he followed its course towards the wall. There wasn’t a plug there. The lamp wasn’t plugged in. So why was the cord here?
The second the question crossed his mind, the lamp began to creak. And when he looked back at it, he saw it sway—and then fall towards him!
Jameson rolled out of the way just in time. The lamp hit the ground hard, much harder than it would’ve if gravity was the only force involved. The cloth lampshade split and the metal loop around the bottom snapped, lashing out towards him and whipping against his arm. Jameson winced and hurried to his feet. He tried to run, but the cord around his ankle tightened, pulling against him. He spun around and sent a disc of magic towards the cord, slicing it in two. Now free, he ran towards the kitchen.
A pillow flew through the air and smacked against his face. It didn’t hurt him, but it did blind him for a second as it stuck to his face unnaturally. He gave a muffled cry and peeled it off—only to be smacked in the side of the head by something heavy enough to make his vision go white. He staggered, leaning against the wall. A drawer had opened up in an end table and items were falling out. Among them, a heavy-looking flashlight, which now sat on the ground at his feet. He stared at it as it rolled—then flew up towards his face again!
Jameson quickly conjured up a shield, blocking the hit easily. What the hell was going on?! This hadn’t happened last time!
He ran towards the kitchen archway again, the shield diverting attacks from a series of pens and pencils, their points all aimed towards him. Forget the kaleidoscope doors, he just needed a wall between him and these flying objects. He darted into the kitchen, pressing his back to the wall to take a deep breath.
Smash! A glass shattered against his shield. Then another, and another, all of them flying out of the open cupboards. Jameson cried out in surprise, reinforcing his shield. But he forgot to cover all of himself with it. The glass shards on the ground rushed towards him, like iron filaments pulled by a magnet, and stabbed into his legs. He shouted in pain and the shield dropped. The second it did, the knife block on the counter tipped over and all of them came flying at him! Jameson lunged to the side and the blades embedded themselves in the wall instead of in his face.
Okay, bad idea, very bad idea! There were so many more dangerous things in a kitchen than in a living room! He wrapped himself in a dome-shaped shield and ran back the way he came.
He got into the middle of the living room before there was another problem. In the corner, a chest opened up, and a blanket came flying at him, draping over his dome-shaped shield and blocking his visions. Others soon joined it, completely encasing him. Jameson took a moment to breathe; at least he was safe, even if he couldn’t see anything. But then he heard—and felt, through his connection to the shield—something heavy slam against the dome around him. Thud. And then several other things. Thud thud thud!
Shit... he couldn’t just stand here and be attacked! Eventually, something might actually break through his barrier. He had to find the others. How did he do that last time? There was a flash of light whenever he crossed over a threshold... didn’t he just have to press his hands against the edges and channel his magic into it? Right, yeah! Simple enough.
Jameson grit his teeth and began slowly walking forward until the edge of his shield hit something. That was probably a wall. He moved sideways from there, making sure that his shield was still pressed against the wall, until he ran into something else. Maybe... a chair? He backed up, going around it, finding his way to another wall, continuing along that in turn—
Only for something to grab his leg and pull.
He yelped as he collapsed to the ground, the shield collapsing with him. A second power cord! For a brief moment as the blankets fell, he saw the TV. Its cord must’ve pulled him to the ground. And then the blankets all lunged for him, burying him. He tried to stand up, pushing against him, but that just gave them more to wrap around. One soon covered his face, making it hard to breathe, as others pressed his arms and legs together, smothering him in a blanket cocoon. The more he struggled, the fiercer they worked.
Jameson gritted his teeth. God, there was no way this was happening. There was no way he was getting defeated by blankets. He has magic, for fuck’s sake! He just had to think of a spell!
His mind scrambled until it found something that could be helpful. It would be tricky to pull off with his arms bound, but if he just visualized the result clear enough—something he’d never been that good at—but this was no time for doubt! He squeezed his eyes shut and pushed his magic outwards!
Maybe it was the force of his will, maybe it was this place echoing his magic back at him, but either way had the same result. Shards and spikes of blue magic shot outwards all around him, slicing through the blankets. Some of them were shredded completely, others were mostly intact but with significant holes. Either way, he was able to scramble out of them, crawling across the ground. Just get to the hallway! It was the nearest threshold! Once he got there—
The front legs of the TV stand collapsed. He glanced to the side and saw the television—a large, heavy-looking CRT model, not a lightweight flatscreen—careening through the air towards him. He lunged forward, but it still landed on his legs. He screamed in pain at the crushing sensation.
The entire room stirred at the sound, every single loose object turning towards him. JJ quickly conjured up another dome-shaped shield. Blocking attacks from everything—from lightweight pillows and notepads to heavier-looking bookends and paperweights. And as he watched, more things started rolling and tumbling towards him, coming from the kitchen and dining room.
This whole house was out to get him. He had to find the others and get out of here, fast!
———————
There was a backpack on the floor by the door.
Anti had missed it in his first couple glances around the room. It was too close to his feet. But he spotted it now, as he’d grown more desperate in his search for anything within arms’ reach that could help against Distorter’s furious attacks on the door.
He hesitated to pick it up. He knew who that backpack probably belonged to, and it felt... disrespectful. Taboo. Practically forbidden, especially with what he was thinking it could be used for. But... would the owner of that backpack want him to be stuck here?
His concentration waned for a second, and he felt the door pull against him. Quickly, he tightened his grip on the handle and pulled it shut again. “So you finally remembered it was a pull door and not a push door, huh?” he said, quipping through gritted teeth to hide the fear that had shot through him.
Distorter laughed. “Oh, you make me so angry, Aodhán! Forgive me for losing my mind a little when it comes to your... antics.” Again, the door pulled against him. Anti could picture Distorter holding the knob on the other side, trying to get leverage. “But now I’ve calmed down a little bit. Can we discuss this like adults, Anti?”
“No,” Anti said shortly.
Distorter yanked on the door, and Anti quickly yanked back, leaning backwards to use his weight to his advantage. “You know you can’t last long against me,” Distorter said in a low voice. “I don’t get tired like you do. And you’re probably feeling very tired right now, aren’t you?”
Anti didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to admit it, but Distorter was right about that. His muscles were already starting to get sore from holding the door in place. But Distorter wouldn’t stop. They knew that he didn’t feel exhaustion, that he didn’t feel pain, either. The only thing that really ever stopped him was electricity, wasn’t it? But Anti didn’t have any of that on hand. He didn’t even have a weapon. He couldn’t fight Distorter here... so he could only hope to outrun or outthink him.
Quietly, Anti bent down to reach for the backpack, grabbing it by one of the straps. He gave it a tug; seemed pretty heavy. There must’ve been a lot of school supplies in there... oh.
His heart sank. Nobody ever got a chance to put these things away... to take them out of the pack. It was all... set up. Ready for a day of school that never came.
It... wasn’t right to touch this... was it?
The door jolted, and Anti felt the doorknob slip slightly out of his sweaty hand. In a panic, he lunged forward again, holding it shut with both hands now. But Distorter just laughed. “Oh, Aodháaaaan! You’re hurting meeee!” he said in a mocking tone. Three of his blackened fingers had squeezed through the gap in the doorway, twitching slightly.
Anti’s felt his heart pounding with adrenaline. Not the time to hesitate and think about sad stuff! He switched which hand was holding the doorknob and leaned away again. “You’ll get over it,” he said curtly, reaching down and grabbing the backpack strap again. “Everyone gets their fingers jammed sometimes.” He lifted it up, holding it in the air as he stood up straight and took a step back from the doorway.
“But that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt, Aodhán!” More blackened fingers clawed at the gap, their nails scraping and scrabbling for purchase. Distorter began to pry the door open. “Once again, you’re proving how truly heartless you are, Aodhán. How do you live with yourself knowing you hurt everyone around you?”
“That’s a question you should ask yourself,” Anti said. “Oh wait, you already did, didn’t you?” He braced himself to say something extremely cruel. “And unlike me, you decided you couldn’t live with yourself at all.”
Distorter went very still. And regret began to sink into Anti’s chest. But then Distorter shrieked in rage. “Fuck you, you little bitch!” He pulled on the door again—
And Anti let go of the handle.
The door flew open, faster than Distorter expected. The second Anti saw his surprised face, he swung the backpack at it. Slam! Distorter spun to the side from the force of the blow. And Anti darted out into the hallway again, running back towards the living room.
A roar followed him down the hallway; Distorter was furious. Anti raced forward, trying to get away from that sound. He turned the corner.
But there was no living room. There was just another hallway.
Anti stumbled in shock, staring at it blankly. It felt like he missed something, like his brain had skipped over some important detail. But it hadn’t. The hallway joined to another, mirrored version of the same hallway. And instead of a basement door at the end, there was another corner that probably led into another hallway.
"Aodhán!”
He tensed and ran forward down this new hallway. Maybe he was wrong! Maybe that corner at the end of the hall led somewhere else!
As he turned it, though, his assumption was proven right. Another hall. Mirrored again, but lined with the same three doors, and a corner at the end.
“You can’t escape me, Aodhán!” Distorter laughed cruelly.
“What makes you think I’m trying to?!” Anti shouted as he sprinted forward.
“The fact that you’re running!”
Anti turned the corner at the end, finding himself in yet another hallway. Was this just going to keep looping forever?! There had to be some way to stop this! But there wasn’t time to think, there was only time for instinct. And his instincts screamed ‘keep running!’
So he did. He kept running, sprinting forward, panting heavily but not feeling all that tired. His adrenaline-fueled breaths echoed against the walls, which felt like they were getting closer and closer to him with every new loop. Distorter continued behind him, footsteps pounding against the ground, screaming and spitting out threats and insults and sometimes just Anti’s true name, firing it at him like a round from a rifle. The fear from his presence spurring Anti onward, but he tried to think beyond that. He couldn’t just run forever. He had to get away from Distorter!
Near the end of one hallway, he paused and grabbed a door handle, trying to twist it. But he found it locked. And in the time he took to try it, he could see Distorter’s twisted grin get closer. So he kept running. Maybe if he lost him—maybe if he got far enough ahead—!
He put on an extra burst of speed. Distorter screamed behind him as he started to widen the distance between them. All the hallways were identical. He knew where the doors would be once he rounded the corner. He just had to be fast!
As he went around into the new hallway, he heard Distorter’s cries become slightly muffled—a wall in the way! Anti lunged for the closest door, turning the handle. And luck of all luck, this one pushed open. He scrambled inside and closed the door behind him. Despite how much he wanted to slam it, he knew he had to be subtle about it, so he merely gave it a firm push.
“Stop lying to yourself Aodhan!” Distorter’s voice grew louder as he approached, and Anti’s heart sank in dread. “You know you can’t run from me forever!” It was right outside the door! “There’s no escape for you or your so-called friends!”
And then... his voice faded into the distance as he ran down the hallway.
Anti let out a breath, relaxing his grip on the door handle but not letting go entirely. This could be a trick, after all. Even if the magic bracelet he had protected him against Distorter’s mind manipulation, there were plenty of ways to trick people without freaky mental powers.
He glanced around, taking in the details of where he was. Seems he found the bathroom. Much like the bedroom he was in before, there were no windows, and the lights weren’t on... but he could still see. Everything was visible, even if it was all dull and gray. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror... and stared.
He didn’t look tired, exactly, despite all the running he’d just done. But he looked... stressed. There were dark bags under his wide eyes, which stood out against his pale face. Was he... shaking? As soon as he saw it, he tried to stop, but couldn’t feel any difference. And as he stared, those circles under his eyes just seemed to get deeper and darker. He looked away, hoping that was a trick of the shadows and not reality.
This place was not good. For anyone. He thought back to the scrying spell JJ had preformed. Maybe this was once a place of joy, but it had been corrupted. Warped from how much misery was poured into it. So much so that the confines of the house had begun to... break? Or... branch off? It was still somewhat unbelievable, that the world could start distorting from the sheer pressure of grief and sadness in a place. But at the same time... he understood. Deep in his chest, he understood.
They had to get out of here. All of them. But how?
And... when?
They’d come here to defeat Distorter. Should they leave without accomplishing that goal? Probably. This place was so much more dangerous than they remembered. But... if they left now... could they ever come back? Distorter knew. Anti wasn’t sure how much he knew, but he was definitely aware that they wanted—needed—to defeat him in here. And that knowledge... would ruin everything. They couldn’t come back here if they left. They couldn’t start over.
Anti felt tears rising in his eyes. The thought of feeling so helpless, at the whims of Distorter again... it wrenched his heart, like a hand grabbing it and twisting it to the side. He couldn’t do that again. He couldn’t live under a shadow, under a threat, under pressure. Not anymore.
A sob echoed through the small bathroom.
But... it didn’t come from Anti.
Anti raised his head slightly, frowning in confusion. He glanced around, and saw... a figure in the bathtub. He tensed instinctively, worrying this was a trick of some sort. The figure didn’t look up at him. It just... sat there, leaning against the wall, legs curled beneath it. Quietly sobbing.
“...oh fuck me,” Anti whispered. This was prime scare material in a horror game. No way was he getting close to that.
But as time drew on—a good few minutes at least—the figure didn’t do anything. It continued to sit there, sniffling and crying. Anti’s eyes began to adjust to the strange seeable darkness of the bathroom. He could make out details of the figure. It was a man. Average height, but a bit thin in build. Dark hair, pale skin. Wearing a plain T-shirt that seemed gray, but that might just be because everything was gray in this place. The man’s face was turned away from Anti, pressed against the tile wall.
He’d never seen this man before. And yet... he felt... familiar.
Anti stared for a bit longer before turning his attention back to the door. He pressed his ear to it, listening for any sign of Distorter. Nothing. Pure silence beyond the door. He looked down at the handle and saw that it had a lock embedded in it, the simple deadbolt kind that you could turn. Which he did. Then he stepped away hesitantly, keeping his hand on the door for a bit longer before finally letting go. Even then, he didn’t turn around right away. He only did once he was sure nothing was coming. And when he did, he slowly walked towards the bathtub.
The man didn’t respond to his approach. Maybe he couldn’t hear him? Or maybe he could, but... didn’t care.
“Um... are you...” Anti’s voice sounded hoarse, so he cleared his throat. “Are you... him? The guy who... lived here?”
Still, the man said nothing. His crying had died down a bit. But nothing else.
“I think... I think you are,” Anti whispered. “For a second, I, uh... I thought you were me, in a way. But I don’t think I ever cried in a bathtub. I didn’t cry a lot as an adult, hah.” He smiled sadly. “But, uh, to think that I thought that for a second. Just goes to show how... we...” He didn’t finish that sentence. It didn’t need to be finished.
The man still didn’t respond.
“Can you... hear me at all?” Anti asked quietly. “Or are you just a memory? Or—” He inhaled sharply. “—an echo? Th-this is some sort of magical echo chamber, after all?”
Silence. But the lack of an answer made that last guess seem the most likely.
“...Why are you here?” Anti wondered out loud. “I mean... we didn’t see you at all the last time we came here to rescue Marvin. Though... I think Stacy mentioned hearing voices? Are you just an evolved version of that? Did I... summon you or something?” He bit his lip, thinking back to how things were just before this echo showed up. “Because I was feeling... tired? Because I thought about how much I didn’t want to do something?” He paused. “That feels right to me. I mean, you don’t end up crying in a bathtub for no reason. You’re probably... feeling something like that too, huh?”
The sniffles died down completely by now, but the man still didn’t say anything. Or give any sign at all that he heard Anti.
“I don’t know why I’m talking to you,” Anti said quietly. “I’m not... I’m not good at this shit. Emotional connection and all that. I mean, I do alright with Will. But it’s different when it’s him. I... I know what he’s been through. He had a tough time of it before I met him, and it was... I knew about that shit.” He paused again. “Maybe... maybe I sorta know about this shit, too. It’s what I kept saying to Distorter. What he kept saying to me. That we’re... similar. And I know we are, it’s just...” He trailed off, trying to put his thoughts into words. “...different. To... see it. I mean... it’s hard to see it with Distorter, he’s so... consumed by evil and shit. But you... even if you’re just an echo... I... I get it.”
The man was unmoving. So still he could’ve been a statue, or perhaps a trick of the mind.
“...I think I want to help you,” Anti said quietly. “You, not... Distorter. Which makes no fucking sense, I know, you’re the same, but—but you don’t feel the same. Distorter’s made of whatever fucking weird ass magic does that to a person. You’re just... the person who was trapped here.”
As the man continued to sit there, Anti felt an urge to reach out and touch him. To put a hand on his shoulder. Was that even possible? He knew the man was an echo of some sort, so he probably wasn’t all there. He wouldn’t be surprised if his hand just passed right through him. But he wanted to try anyway.
Slowly, Anti leaned down, hand outstretched, reaching for the man’s arm. He prepared himself to withdraw soon when his hand passed through, since it felt disrespectful to wave it around inside this echo—
And then his hand made contact.
Just for a second. Anti gasped at the feeling of flesh and cloth beneath his fingers and palm.
The man whirled around, and suddenly Anti was thrown backwards, as if the air itself had flung him away.
“D́ON͟'T ͢L̵̕͟O͞O̵Ḱ̢ ̶M̡̪̫̙̩Ȩ̸̤̝̥̕!̴̝͕” A voice screamed.
The sound of it pierced Anti’s ears. It wasn’t just the volume, though the high-pitched shriek was painful in that way, too. No, it was the emotion in the voice. The pain, the rage, the sadness, the shame, concentrated into four words that slammed into him, going straight to his mind like a hammer pounding on a chisel with every syllable.
Then his head hit the side of the sink, and white burst in his vision. When he eventually got over the stunning pain of it... the man was gone.
