mmh..mreow

You're staying up later than what's healthier, the time being… Actually, you don't want to double check.

2am. Okay, sure whatever. Not like you have anything you're doing tomorrow, so who cares! (Coping).

Awake and watching YouTube on your laptop, snug and sat up beneath the covers of your bed. The brightness of your screen blinding enough to not give you a headache in the pitch black of your room, enough to make it seem as though it's not 2am, and… Y'know, again, it's the only source of light in your room, making it so that literally every other corner is pitch black since your eyes are so unadjusted.

Not that you're at all caring to look away. You're quite busy right now, watching your fourth analysis video of the Backrooms movie in this one sitting.

The YouTuber going on about Still Lifes, which… You have your own thoughts that he hasn't really covered, and you're hoping he will later.

Out of these three and a half videos you've watched, nobody's touched on why some Still Lifes are aggressive, and others aren't.

What makes a Still Life a monster, and what makes them docile?

Is it the mentals of individuals that make their Still Lifes so hostile? How they were viewed as people, if they were created by the memories of others who've been into the Backrooms, or if THEY have to go into the backrooms to be given a Still Life?

Sure, we saw Mary be given a Still Life at the end of the film, but whose memories did the Backrooms take to create that?

Does it NEED hers?

Maybe not, if you look back to how many clothes were in that monster's… den? Lair? Whatever territory that was. Very clearly a type of hunting ground, but it can't possibly be just of humans, given the infinite expanse of the Backrooms. Imagine so many missing people in one small area? That math just doesn't make sense.

So many of those clothes must have been from Still Lifes! And it would have needed to be a LOT of Still Lifes!! More Still Lifes in such a large—infinite—space must mean far fewer humans, of which all their memories were taken to create all the people they know.

Well, unless those were just random piles of clothes that didn't belong to victims? But wasn't there also a lot of blood splatter that could justify it having been a killing ground?

—You need to rewatch. There's too many trains of thoughts happening, things you're thinking starting to not make sense, and the memories are beginning to blur.. Pun intended.

…

Thinking back to the seagull that got trapped. If someone who visited the Backrooms were terrified of birds, thinking of them as scary and threatening, would the Still Life bird be a monstrous… monster?

Or if the bird being there triggers a Still Life to be made, would it just be a regular Still Life? Chill, but weird-appearing in a 'normal' way?

There could very well be animal Still Lifes in there. You didn't get to see two of the three monsters! The intro one, and then the one who killed Bobby and Kate.

…You need to pull up Kane Parson's web series immediately to see if there's any animals in his adaptation. You're not even actually listening to this analysis playing, anyway.

Doesn't take any long. You already know this guy's name, and it's not like his series is unpopular or anything. The playlist is found a small scroll beneath the movie trailer.

First episode's 9 minutes? Nice! And looks like the rest are.. differing in length, with a lot being around 2 minutes—except a 45 minute one?! Hello!

Few minutes into the first video, you're feeling the unease that comes with watching such a well-made horror film, but… It's kind of hitting a little too hard.

There's an unfamiliar yet familiar queasiness while you wait in nervous anticipation for whatever jumpscare you can smell coming.

—You look into the darkness of your room on instinct. Like.. a prey instinct. Something your Soul caught wind of faster than your brain.

A chill is in the air, like your AC cranked itself and didn't waste any time altering the atmosphere.

It's Nightmare.

And despite knowing this, and not fearing him aside from what his aura just passively does (…unless he does this on purpose to play with you?), you still swallow a freaked-out lump in your throat as you cautiously turn your bright laptop to shine your dark room.

You don't get the opportunity to light up a lot of real estate before an obsidian-black hand comes to press and settle on the mattress, just beside your leg.

Whatever scream you let out didn't appear to bother him. You don't even really know if you actually screamed or not, but you feel like you might have.

Something in your throat feels pinched all the sudden after getting scared by him, which you can only assume was because of a scream.

Though what you were able to register of yourself was the great flinch away your whole body made. Across your bed, clean to the farthest corner, somehow not getting any tangled in blankets.

Your fleeing slung the laptop from your hands and to the bed, coincidentally positioned to perfectly light up your guest—if 'perfect' were ominous lighting from below, enhancing his features the way a kid with a flashlight would during spooky campfire stories.

…He's smiling. Smiling. Of course he'd be, of course he'd find entertainment in your startle.

Despite the embarrassment you've made of yourself, you're just glad to see your reflexes are on fleek. But what you're NOT glad to see… Is him—Well. That's not true. You are happy to see him, because he's a little cutie (derogatory), but right now you're choosing war in search of justice for your heartrate.

"What could you possibly want so late at night?" The sass is going up to a ten. He does not deserve kindness for how horrendously he introduced himself.

Nightmare's mouth opening and posture straightening to respond—you cut him off, "And turn the dang lamp on so I can see you."

There was enough laptop light on him to see the way his expression rolled in playful aggravation. His left cheekbone raising that slightest millimeter you know well, smile loosening into something authentic. The way his head and gaze move with him as he turns for your lamp as told, posture no longer as rigid in properness.

When on business, he's one that likes to keep his head and gaze straight. If turning to look at something, what he'll do is look with his eyelight first—in the corner of his socket—keeping his head straight to you before tilting the smallest bit to look away. Treating a constant front-facing with you or others as a power move. Which… yeah, it has its intimidations. Certainly does the job of making it seem he's always one step ahead of everyone. Always on guard, self-aware, in control, almost regal with his movements.

Being in control is where he's most comfortable. Things are predictable in a way he can.. well. Control.

But with you… He turns his back. Looks away. Isn't so on point at all times around you, though he certainly enjoys a bit (lot) of showing off.

You retrieve your laptop in time for your lamp to be turned on by him.

…Also in time for you to have reached the jumpscare part of the Kane Parson's video you were watching. What was still apparently playing and you didn't realize.

Safe to say you registered this short scream.

Laptop slammed closed, pushed away, head in hands as you bend forward at the waist in shame. Your elbows resting on your thighs, letting out an almost pained breath into your palms.

You do not want to see Nightmare's reaction to you getting got by a short film of all things.

Not that you have any of a choice, though. Hearing the impending doom of his quiet footsteps, a small dip in the bed… and you feel the drag of your laptop as it's taken. His weight leaving, too, like all he wanted was to reach over for a moment. For the laptop.

Then the small thud of it being placed on your desk. You didn't hear him move, so his tentacles must've been at play.

"Last I recall, this hour is far late for you." Already being scolded in his soft yet authoritative tone. Velvety, like he's trying to sweetly persuade you over being mean about it.

You might just listen so you can be rewarded with more of his wonderful voice.

…But also you really want to stay up and keep watching more of Kane's series! You only just turned it on and didn't even get to finish the first episode!

Using your own sweet voice (which almost never works on him), "Yeah, but I don't have anything happening tomorrow! I wanted to watch YouTube."

"If nothing tomorrow, you can watch it then." Looming over you with finality, though the room warms with affection.

Topic needs to be changed pronto. Distract him. You know you can get what you want if you put elbow grease into it and divert his attention.

Sitting up a little taller, moving away from where you fled and closer to him. Peering high to look him in the eye, "Did you want to hang out some? I—ah, don't actually know why you're here…?" That's a good question. "But I imagine you're not terribly busy right now. Want to spend some time? Talk?"

Take the bait… Please. Dude, c'mon. You're not going to bed without a fight.

…Silence.

Is that a 'yes'?! Quiet contemplation is a good sign!!

He looks at you with absolute focus, unblinking (not like he ever does, really)—and then he blinks! Hello, sailor!

"I suppose…" He mumbles, taking a moment to glance away before back to you, like he's suddenly become unsure about his stance on your bedtime. Like you even need one?

Before he can think any deeper about a possible rejection, you further grab his attention by patting at your bed, and then lifting the corner of the blanket. Inviting him in with a disarming smile. "Sit down with me! We haven't shared a bed in a little while."

…He removes his shoes and tucks them to the side.

What's the phrase? 'Hook, line, and sinker?' Gottem.

His guard so effectively down, you so beautifully won, but just before he can hike a knee up to join you under the blankets—"Wait! Please get the laptop!"

You're given a very stern look, though he still does as asked of. "Do not mistake me for fooled. You make your ploys apparent, rat."

"Yeah, whatever, I literally don't care. Shut up and lets watch a pirated Backrooms."

Nightmare pauses with the laptop in hand, "…" He blinks, "Remind me what that is?"

The way you summarized it was with one word. 'Life-changing.'

He, of course, didn't think anything extraordinary of your lame explanation. But still sat all pretty beside you, allowing your head to lean against his shoulder. And despite his hands polite in his lap throughout the movie, his tendrils were lively. Moving to continuously prod at you throughout the film, squeezing your limbs here and there, holding you flush to him.

Though now, with the movie over, he is the opposite. His hands active in gestures as he speaks, while his tentacles have been since put away.

"Memories of memories of… even further is an intriguing concept." He admits, even continuing, "Though what wonders me is the 'how' and 'why' of the Captain's bleeding when Ms. Kline bludgeoned his head with the stone of her demolished childhood home—a whole other literacy element in itself, perhaps like she was letting go of her past? I do believe I saw a hesitance in her action; one unrelated to the emotional charging that comes with bracing oneself for self defense."

You give him a small and delighted shake, "That's what I was thinking, too!! And back to the Captain's bleeding, which doesn't make sense! Unless he's NOT a Still Life? Or unless some Still Lifes don't bleed! But then what sets them apart? And that must've been pain he felt, given the reactions to being harmed.. Unless those were just cries of distress to not being able to get to Mary?"

His intrigue toward interesting fiction isn't anything shocking. Night's always been one to nerd out with you over stories. It's his whole thing. Speaking with you about the details of his own books brings him a joy. One of the few things he finds real indulgence in, one of them being bothering you.

Sometimes you'll speak of a something he's uninterested in, but he'll still sit and listen because he knows it brings you contentment. Entertainment and lovely company. And you do the same for him, when he relays you of a novel he enjoyed.

It's nice—these calm 'dates'.

His tone lowers, "It does make me wonder if such a universe exists…"

…