#clockthea

[tw: disassociation, self deprication]

Just like the clock must strike on midnight to end the day, the trial struck its last minute as everything came to a close. There was no bell tower to chime twelve, but the blonde still felt some kind of reverb in his chest. As the end of a school day eventually becomes the end of a year, one final thing had to grow into another. With the end of the trial meant that votes had to be tallied. He somehow managed to drag himself to vote, against all odds. But the namanushi felt no satisfaction in that. Not when it was poor Fuchsia they were all voting for.

She told the truth. Of course she would, Fuchsia wouldn’t lie to them. But that just sealed her fate. So here he was, tensing up, getting ready to just watch her die. The writer was still trying to cheer them on, still trying to give them all some kind of hope even right before she died. Mystique’s chest felt like it was about to snap in two, each breath heaving and hurting to make. (Maybe that’s what you get for crying so much all these days?)

In a flash, she was dragged away from the rest of them. He didn’t want to watch. The blonde’s eyes were on the screen, but he didn’t register any of the execution. All the voices felt so far away, echoing off walls that didn’t exist. Bright streams of blood barely caught his attention, but figures all seemed blurry. He only managed to catch a few words here and there- Fuchsia’s… Sakuya’s. Final apology sticking out the most. Sakuya. Sakuya. Sakuya. (Who’s Sakuya?)

No matter how many times he thought it, everything still seemed so distant. Mystique- (that was still him, right? What a weird name.) looked at the room around him- but none of it felt like he was there. Perhaps he had already passed out and this was some kind of dream. His fingers dug a bit tighter into this person’s back, trying to feel some kind of pressure. But he couldn’t think about anything. And no matter how hard he pressed, his fingers felt nothing. They were fuzzy. (Fingers were weird too.) He’s shaking, and shaking, and shaking. But he doesn’t feel it. Even when he momentarily touches the tears on his face. They’re not there.

His palms are sweaty and his heart is beating way faster than it should, palpitating… And then with a jolt, it slows down just a bit. There’s a noise that sounds like it’s coming through an old broken radio. That’s a voice, right? Mysty-kun. Who’s Mysty-kun, again? Mystyyyyy. He likes how that name sounds. Is that his? Those green eyes looking at him seem familiar somehow.

He’s here for him? That’s probably a good thing, right? Mystique doesn’t really feel like he’s anywhere at the time. This guy’s here for him. Then he must know the namanushi, right? What’s his name again? Come on… Come on…

He looks almost startled, when suddenly noise becomes clear. Grey’s still with him. He’s here. Mystique tries to add more pressure again. His hands still can’t feel. Not alone- He’s not alone. What was he doing here? And why did he feel so dizzy and sick? The blonde’s taking heavy breaths- still shaking and shaking. There’s a lot he wants to say right now. (I can’t feel my hands. I’m scared. I’m cold. Say something please. I’m lonely. There’s people, yet I’m still lonely. I’m tired.)

All he can manage to say is nothing he wants to say. There’s something else he’s fighting now.

(Am I alone? I don’t want to be.)

[You deserve it.]

(I deserve it? I deserve it. Grey, do I deserve it?)

[He doesn’t want to deal with you. No one does.]

It’s been a while since those have came back. They haven’t for a long time. They were around when he was younger far more often. But he’s almost an adult now. They have nothing over him. Mystique whispers in Grey’s ear after a long pause of nothingness. It’s barely audible, but it’s something.

“… Can… I stay… with you… to… tonight. . ?”

After the disaster that had been the fourth trial, Plum had decided to stay quiet through the fifth one. That was probably appreciated by everyone else in the room. (It wasn't like he was a great detective like those two in the Monochrome Crew, anyway.)

He could only look at Fuchsia with pity. To think that it would only take this long for him to look at murderers with nothing but empathy, when only a couple of weeks ago he would have cursed anyone weak enough to kill; it amused even himself. This place could really change a person. (For better or for worse... he wasn't quite sure yet.)

Despite only having spoken to Fuchsia briefly, he could not think of her negatively. Not if he tried.

He didn't want her to die. He didn't want anyone to die any more. He just wanted to figure out what was happening...! But... he wasn't figuring it out fast enough... He wasn't smart. Not in that way.

(Smart enough to lie. Smart enough to manipulate everyone's emotions like he had done. But not smart enough to redeem himself. How ironic...)

Plum witnessed the execution with resignation. Watched the candle being snuffed out. Fuchsia had been such a shining light in this place... It was only getting darker. Darker and darker...

(But he wouldn't lose hope. Not yet.)

This time, instead of retreating into his room, Plum visited it only to retrieve his guitar. He strummed it lightly; it had been days since he had held it.

Up until the last second, Fuchsia had smiled at them. Encouraged them. Continued to believe in them. Told them to get out of here and live. Grey flinched when she’d been taken away and he couldn’t bear to watch her execution. That one time had been more than enough and he still didn’t know why his body had moved on its own back then.

Though just as always, just because he wasn’t looking, didn’t mean that he wasn’t hearing what was going on. A lot of talking was done this time and the more the fake Fuchsia spoke, the sicker Grey got. He whimpered once the stabbing began and closed his eyes, tightening the hug he was still in. Tears were streaming down his face just as always

Why is it always the good people, why why why

When the execution was over, Grey took a few deep and shaky breaths, trying to somewhat compose himself. He loosened the hug again and glanced around for a moment, noting how quick White was to leave the courtroom. Instantly worried, he would have liked to follow her, but... he needed to take care of Mystique too, right? He could still... check up on White later, right?

(She might need some time alone, so following her might’ve even been a bad idea anyway.)

Actually looking at the taller blonde now, Grey hurriedly wiped the tears away from his face, offering a shaky smile.

"Is it… alright to ask you to keep everyone… to keep them going, for me?"

"..."

Unfortunately by the time that request hung in the air Fuchsia had already pulled away from White, and so she couldn't hide the shock that came onto her expression over the other girl's shoulder.

(The second request, this was the second request she'd had of this kind but she was the wrong person why not someone rational who could handle themselves without damages to others she was the wrong person not her not her not HER-)

"...A-already working on it, Fuchsia-chan..!"

It wasn't really a lie, after all.

She stayed at Fuchsia's side during her final speech and remained where she stood even as the girl was taken away, giving that podium its last few minutes of occupancy. Even if White could have quickly read the words that flashed up on the screen she still wouldn't have gotten any further than the second instance, one shaking hand slipping to pinch at her eyes and partly cover her face as though that could hide the fact that she was crying again. Gentler this time than those previous, perhaps, but there was certainly at least one quiet set of sobs playing over the noises of Fuchsia's execution.

(When the time had come for Fuchsia to be pulled away White's hand had instinctively reached for the writer's arm - it should be easy, dammit, she'd become able to snatch much smaller things out of the air years ago - but it was that hand that shook over her face now in failure.)

The speech stopped. A clattering was heard. Silence, at least compared to the louder noise that always accompanied executions.

But then a quick tapping, one that turned out to be White's footsteps and one that only grew louder in volume the harder she ran, the girl all but sprinting away from Fuchisa's podium and back to her own. Those who paid particular attention to the aftermath of trials might have been surprised to see the girl just appearing like she was running away rather than to a friend's side, White snatching up her handbag without even looking and calling for Mochi before making a break for the elevator. One, two, three quick taps to gain access and White was inside without another word, squeezing her eyes shut so she didn't have to see who currently remained behind.

(It hurt to leave Grey and Mystique behind like that, that was for sure. But White had another promise to start making good on, damn her incompetence, and sometimes... working on the long run was better.)

When the execution drew to a close, another one of your ranks dead (at the very least it wasn't as exponential a drop as the last two incidents had been), you were met with silence before a pink keycard fell into the center of the podiums as had been the case prior. Many red pens fell at the same time, and the quiet fell over once more after it had all been finished.

"Um... I ain't got too much an idea of when Colleen isss going to be back... but it'ss a little passst lunch time, s-so that'sss ready again. Have it if you wisssh... S-Sssorry our sschedule hass been off every time a trial happenss. It'ss a pain, I know..."

tw: blood, exsanguination, stomach trauma, public humiliation/bullying, self-deprecative themes

Commencing execution…

                                    【 Don’t Like, Don’t Read 】

The monitor screen flickers to life once more. There’s no image at first, merely a black background. A small, white, flashing line appears in the top left corner, flashing a few times before a trail of letters, words, formed behind it, as if typing.

(A/N: HI!!!11!! thx 4 all teh gr8 reviews!! sory this took me 4ever but i hope u like it!!!1!)

That’s reassuring.

The scene faded in, a shot of a monochromatic school hallway, not too dissimilar to the one present during the late Kuukai’s execution. It may strike most as odd, but folks like Fuchsia certainly recognize it and its purpose - for stories taking place outside of high school, alternate universes of that story’s characters attending high school were very, very commonplace.

Speaking of Fucshia and characters, the writer is incredibly easy to spot among the crowd, consisting entirely of… you’re not sure if you can call them people. They’re featureless figures, humanoid in shape, clothed in what you can only guess to be school uniforms of sorts, close to what Fuchsia herself normally wears. Aside from that, they’re blank figures, silhouettes at best, with generic clothes and the smallest of vile grins present on the face of each.

But there’s something different about Fuchsia, as well -- her headband is missing. She had it when she got dragged off, no one saw it fall off, so where did it go?

Footsteps, loud footsteps, echo through the halls. Everyone else turns their head in the direction of the noise, and while the other figures utter incoherent noises of… greeting? It’s hard to tell, but with how they’re smiling…-- Fuchsia looks positively baffled. The screen cuts to who can only be assumed to be the figure everyone else heard.

...Fuchsia? With headband and everything.

The Fuchsia the others were familiar with stares in confusion at the impostor for a good while, before speaking up…

“What are you doing here? Get out, no one wants to see you!”

...but she looks even more baffled when the words actually come out. It didn’t appear she had control over her own words -- hell, the way her mouth moved didn’t even match the words that (supposedly) came out, and her voice didn’t sound anything like that.

(becoming someone she wasn’t, out of her control -- how ironic.)

The screen freezes. A small, black box appears at the bottom of the screen, the flashing white line and text trailing behind it popping up once more.

(A/N: idk why u keep flamming meh 4 this bc this is TOTALLY in character!! sakuya’s totally evil - why do u think she killed sum 1 nyways????)

It was almost comical, had the situation not been what it was.

(...Sakuya? Was that…)

After a few seconds, the box vanishes, and everything continues to play out. The imposter simply smiles, the way Fuchsia was known to do.

“Wahaha!! That’s kinda rude, don’tcha think?”

The figures shout suddenly, cheering as if the conversation before them was like a sports game or concert. Fuchsia blinks a few times, glancing around at the figures, them having dissipated into a crowd around the writer and her double, her imposter. Fuchsia spends a few seconds, contemplating her words, but to no avail--

“But it’s true, isn’t it?! What the hell are you still doing here -- get out, or I’ll make you!”

--for when she opened her mouth, more of what she hadn’t intended to say at all came out. Fuchsia looked confused again, before shaking her head. The imposter laughed, hands on her hips.

“Make me?? Geez, you’re so mean, Uehara-kun!! Wahaha!!”

The other figures laughed along with the false Fuchsia, and the real one huffed slightly. This was frustrating -- maybe she should just try and not talk, she decided. That way, this fake narrator couldn’t put words in her mouth -- words that didn’t look or sound remotely like her or anything she was saying!

Except with a sudden jerk of the arm, the writer’s fist flinging forward and barely missing the copy, it didn’t seem that was a viable option, either.

“...Ehe! You don’t get it, do you?”

Nonetheless, the imposter simply smiles, albeit… patronizingly, this time. Her tone is… too cheery, almost threateningly so.

“You don’t get what’s going on? What’s happening?”

She reaches into her pocket, slowly approaching Fuchsia. The writer smiles nervously, and it’s clear if she could run, she would have.

“Y’know how it goes, right? Don’t like? Don’t read!”

The fake’s voice twists into something far more sinister, the figures surrounding them chuckling maniacally. She shoves Fuchsia into the wall--

“Don’t wanna die? Don’t kill anyone.”

--whips a knife out, and rams it into the writer’s stomach.

“They were right, you know? This game has changed you into something you’re not. Princess Fuchsia was the hero, the one who believed in everyone, the one who thought we’d all get out ok if we all just clapped our hands and believed!”

The knife is pulled out, only to be shoved in again. And again. And again.

“You? You’re just a murderer, a liar, a hypocrite, a coward! Someone who let this place get to her -- so much for believing in the best of this situation, so much for believing the cycle of death would stop, huh??”

Again. Again. Again. Again.

“Giving up? So soon? Figures -- I’m the hero who never gives up, not you. Not anymore.”

By the time it’s over, several wounds are present in the girl’s abdomen, blood oozing quickly from each and staining her clothes. Fuchsia falls forward into her assailant, only to be shoved back into the wall. The imposter’s hands rest on her shoulders, the only thing propping her up.

“Such a shame you had to go and kill someone, too -- way to let everyone down when they needed you the most, huh?”

The writer’s in tears, the occasional pained gasp escaping her lips. It was so… so much more genuine than her previous behavior. Fuchsia started slipping out of the fake’s grasp, and finally opened her mouth to speak once more, one last time.

“...I’m… sorry…”

And she drops, slides down the wall, and hits the floor, bleeding out and unmoving.

Just like that, the screen fades to black. The white flashing line appears one last time, and types out another message, but it’s… much more coherent than the last two.

You’re almost certain the words could have, would have, come from Fuchsia herself.

(A/N: thank you so much for reading!! sorry it had to end like this!! i’ll try harder next time, i promise!!)

But you’re just as certain that, unfortunately, there wouldn’t be a next time.

Princess Fuchsia Sakuya Uehara, the Super High-School Level Fanfiction Author, has been executed.

It was almost surreal how that many votes came to be, given that not all of them had even properly participated in the trial. He could feel a tiny bit disappointment towards these people, who had essentially done nothing to solve the case, but were eager to vote on someone’s death.

(It’s not like as if this was anything new, but right now, it just bothered him to an abnormal extend.)

Grey was quiet while White and Mystique spoke to Fuchsia. He didn’t know what he could even do right now, so all he did was be there for Mystique. Albeit the blonde told him that he was fine, the popping dancer still felt how shaky he must’ve been on his feet.

“... It’s okay, Mysty-kun. Even i-if you feel a bit better now, you can still... use me as a support, yeah? I’m... not going anywhere.”

Grey’s grip relaxed a bit as well, but he would still continue to hug the other - unless he really didn’t want to do that anymore. All he needed to do was say a word and Grey would back away - but for now, he would continue to offer this kind of support.

Then, the votes were tallied and they’ve been told that they got it.

Even though this shouldn’t make him sigh in relief, he couldn’t exactly stop it - maybe his fear of getting it wrong again had been bigger than he imagined? Whatever it was, he was glad that believing in Fuchsia didn’t prove to be a mistake - no, she was actually a genuinly good person who didn’t want to sacrifice someone else for what she’d done.

Fuchsia might have been a killer, but unlike the others, she’d done it for them.

(Can’t really say that about any of the others, huh?)

“... T... Thank you, Fuchsia-chan. For... for always believing in us. F-For... being such a good friend, I... I’m so glad we were able to meet each other, even... even if it was under th-these circumstances. Thank you for... f-for always helping me out, I... I’m so sorry that... that all I can offer now are ‘thanks’...!”

“I... I will never forget you... Fuchsia-chan. M... My dear friend.”

Fuchsia had told them the truth. They were right. 

('Of course', White's mind had halfheartedly filled in, but she couldn't tell the sentiment behind it.) 

Anything that immediately followed the vote being confirmed as correct was lost on White however- after all, despite the attempts at protesting and deflecting, there was absolutely no doubt that the condemned writer was clinging to her. She could only hope that this hug wouldn't let Fuchsia realise just how much White's heart was pounding- not just at all the general issues that followed a trial's conclusion, but because of what she was actually doing- Fuchsia was apologising to her over and over again and White didn't know how to comfort her, Grey was easy as could be now but Fuchsia was completely unknown and god she might be dying soon but-! 

(Idly White wondered what would happen if the two of them were still clinging to each other when the time came for Fuchsia to be pulled away- but that was an issue to worry about later.) 

It seemed White's brief respite of being all cried out was over, tears starting to prick at her own eyes the more Fuchsia's crying started to escalate. All she could think of to say at first was an 'it's okay' for every 'I'm sorry' the other girl offered - it wasn't okay and White knew that but it felt like the right thing to whisper - White not at all bothered by however tight the hold on her got. She was practically offering the same at this point after all, subconsciously keeping her strength in check but certainly not standing there in the hug half halfheartedly. It was only when Fuchsia started to try speak again that White too moved past repeated rushed words of comfort.

"...I know. I k-know you wouldn't, I... thank you."

In regards to Fuchsia not misleading them, of course; it felt a very strange thing to say, but every slightly self-sacrificial word the other girl had said invited it. 

But what now? White had absolutely nothing, which was more than a little bit worrying when she had a sobbing girl in her arms. 

Eventually though, she spoke quietly to Fuchsia again. Some might consider it a futile or wasted effort, but...

"...We'll be okay, you know? P-probably doesn't look it right now, and... and w-we'll miss you for sure, but- I don't think you have to stop believing th-that this won't happen again. I... I think we're getting closer to stopping it all..!"

Her words felt hollow, based on what scraps of speech White could remember of Fuchsia's at the end of their previous trials, but White couldn't tell why she had no faith in her attempt at convincing Fuchsia not to beat herself up just that bit more over all this. She could have tried to speak more, but when White realised that she would probably just end up diving into her own apologies and generally not being very comforting, she just opted for continuing her attempt at soothing Fuchsia while she sobbed.