Top Posts Tagged with #infinityandmadness

TIMING: fall 2025. LOCATION: gatlin fields. PARTIES: @infinityandmadness & @bazzledazzle. SUMMARY: baz and bellamy get stuck in a corn maze together. things spiral from there. CONTENT WARNINGS: past domestic abuse, past parental death.

As with the summer carnival, Baz found there to be something undeniably quaint about the autumn apple festival. It was the sort of thing that seemed out of a television show, like something you’d see in a movie. The quirkiness of Wicked’s Rest seemed to be the gift that kept on giving, offering an endless amount of entertainment to the doppelganger, whose experience with normal human life was such a limited thing. They wanted to try every part of the festival — the apple bobbing, the cider, the maze. It was the last one that had drawn them in now, and they’d been practically bouncing on their heels at the beginning of it.

They weren’t bouncing now, though. They’d been wandering through the maze for some time now, and at a certain point, it had stopped being fun. Every turn they took saw them faced with yet another dead end, and excitement had given way to frustration a while ago. They’d have been tempted to shove through the hedges if they weren’t worried that doing so might hurt. This, of course, left them wandering aimlessly, groaning each time they hit a dead end.

Rounding another corner, Baz prepared themself for disappointment once more… only to run into something that wasn’t a hedge. It was a bit too warm and squishy for that. “Oh!” They exclaimed, reaching out to steady the person they’d run into. “Sorry about that, mate. This place is a real — You!” Their friendly expression soured immediately as they recognized the figure they’d bumped into. After their last encounter, they hadn’t been looking forward to seeing Bellamy again. In fact, they’d have liked to avoid him forever. But Wicked’s Rest was a small town, and it rarely rewarded people with things they’d like to happen. “What are you doing in a maze?”

—

Another day, another invite out to get him out of the house. His friends were really pushing their desire to turn him into an extrovert, onto him. Though, he would admit, he was having fun here. They had all been doing the typical Autumn season events. Nothing was out of the norm. Which, given that this was Wicked's Rest, was a fairly average time. Given how strange the place could often be. Especially during these strange blackouts that were happening. Bellamy followed along with his friends, eating some treats, partaking in activities, and enjoying his time with them.

That was until they all broke off at the maze. One look away, and suddenly he had found himself on his own, and they had vanished into it themselves, without a trace. Figuring he would see them after finishing the maze, he did not feel at all concerned and continued to make his own way through it. Bellamy lifted up a pumpkin spice-flavored drink he had been sipping on as he meandered through the maze, carrying a bag full of other goodies he had gotten, and a few other sealed drinks. He decided he would give the meandering a few more minutes and then find the exit.

Though, he would be lying if he didn't enjoy this moment of alone time. He was really enjoying it. As much as he had been enjoying spending the day with his friends, he was absolutely needing this break of solitude! Bellamy walked for a bit before stopping, chewing at the tip of the straw on his drink again as he sips from it, “Hm.” He had been trying to leave, but couldn't find the way out. “Weird. I'm usually really good at these things.” Glancing down, he tried to see if any footprints might help, but there were only his own. As he was doing that, someone had bumped into him, causing him to stumble a little, but quickly recover, catching himself. Turning on the person, he frowned as they spoke, recognizing him. “Oh great.” At the question of what he was doing there. Which sounds pretty accusing. He rolled his eyes, pulling the straw from his mouth, “Enjoying It? Or. I was. But it's a lot more difficult than I thought it would be.” Bellamy says, then staring the other over, he huffs, amused, “And now you're here. Are you lost, too?”

—

In all honesty, Baz was a bit wary of Bellamy following their last encounter. They could still remember the strange way he’d changed his tune in an instant, the unpredictability of it all. Normally, Baz loved not knowing what was going to happen next. It kept things exciting, kept them on their toes in a way that always seemed to send a thrum of adrenaline through their veins. They liked being kept in the dark… most of the time. But it hadn’t been fun with Bellamy, hadn’t been the enjoyable sort of blindness. There’d been something strangely sinister about it all, perhaps tied entirely to the fact that the other had kept them from leaving the moment they’d wanted to go. (Baz never did well with someone denying them the thing they wanted in the moment, after all, especially not when the thing they wanted was to be someplace else.)

And so, running into him in the maze was far from ideal. It was bad enough that Baz was lost, but now they were lost with someone they didn’t even want to be around! It felt as though they were being punished for something, though they couldn’t fathom what they might have done to deserve such a fate. The universe was cruel and unjust, really! It had it out for Baz, who’d never done a thing wrong! It certainly wasn’t fair!

“No luck breaking your way out, then?” They still weren’t certain what had happened at the aquarium, but they were sure it was Bellamy’s fault, somehow. He must have done something to break the glass, if only because Baz knew that nothing they had done had caused it. The glass couldn’t have broken on its own, could it? “I’m just taking a leisurely stroll.” They wanted to insist that they weren’t lost, but they didn’t want to give themself a stomachache on top of everything else. “I might’ve gotten a bit turned around, I suppose. That’s the point of a maze, innit? Nothing out of the ordinary.” Except for the fact that they were pretty sure the maze was changing in real time, because they were sure there’d been a left turn behind them and glancing back now saw them looking at another dead end.

—

He could see the way Baz was looking at him now. As if there was something wrong with him. There wasn't, and there was, Bellamy couldn't explain it. He didn't even know himself. Regardless, he didn't like the way the other looked at him. Turning his attention away a bit, he tried to brush the feeling that it brought up away. Nearing too close to the way his caretakers growing up had often treated him. Though he would suppose that the reasons were different, the looks weren't the same. Whereas his caretakers looked at him with a hunger, Baz looked at him, in what he could only see as disgust, a displeasure. It hurt to be looked at that way, it hurt to be looked at. That was what was the same.

Shifting in his stance, he chewed a bit at the end of his straw, trying not to feed the monster its attention, its desired reaction from him. Whatever Baz's problem was, he could not feed it. Bellamy stares away from Baz in the silence that wedged itself between the two of them, sipping absently at his drink, putting on a relatively casual, amused look on his face. He was having fun, the maze was fun, and the drink was fun. Everything was just so fucking fun! Yes. He was having the time of his life. Aside from those eyes boring into him in cruel judgment. Bellamy chewed some more before raising his eyebrows when Baz responded.

“Nope. Seems to be quite the intricate maze.” Bellamy commented, a bit of a compliment toward whoever might have designed the maze. Though he was sure it was Baz digging because of the breaking of the tank at the aquarium, “What about you? I'd figure you would, being the expert on breaking things, and all.” Bellamy commented lightly, a grin forming on his lips. Though, nodded slowly when Baz had passed off their situation as if it was the truth. Bellamy huffed, knowing Baz was fibbing. It helped that Baz had already cemented himself as one long before now, “Ah. Turned around. You suppose.” Pausing, Bellamy nodded his head, looking to one side, “Looks like it.”

Bringing his drink back to his lips, Bellamy watched as Baz twisted, looking back from where they came. He inhaled deeply, sipping loudly at his drink. Before pulling the straw away again to say, “Seems the game master has decided to seal your fate with mine, huh?” He teased lightly before turning and walking away, toward the only open path away from that space. He had to find away from Baz, and that judgmental gaze, more than a way out of this place.

—

They kept a careful eye on Bellamy, trying to determine which version of him they’d be on the receiving end of this time. The pompous, self-righteous version that got off on correcting everything they said and did was annoying, but still preferable to the version that had held them in place with a firm hand on their shoulder in the aquarium. Annoying was something Baz could handle just fine, albeit with a little complaining. Scary, though? That was another matter entirely.

They’d never done well with fear. Their father had always found it a useful method for keeping them in line, used it as a steadying force to keep them on whatever path he’d like to see them go down. It was certainly effective; there were few things Baz hated more than being afraid. But as they studied Bellamy now, eyes carefully looking him up and down, they saw none of the strange qualities that made him so intimidating in the aquarium. This was the Bellamy they were more familiar with — the one who irritated, but didn’t intimidate.

“Maybe a bit too intricate. Aren’t people meant to be able to find their way out of these things? I saw children at the entrance!” They squinted at Bellamy as he, once again, seemed to try to shift the blame of the broken aquarium glass onto Baz. For someone who claimed the truth to be an all-important, valuable thing, he certainly seemed to be avoiding it now. “Breaking’s never quite been my style, actually,” they replied, shaking their head. “I’m a creator.” And it was true. Baz wasn’t someone who liked to break things. That was why they’d hated it so much when Bellamy broke the aquarium glass.

Of course, none of this meant they wanted to be alone in the maze. They’d been fine enough on their own at first, but now that they knew the maze was shifting around them, they had little desire to be alone in it. Even if the only other option was to hang around Bellamy. They scrambled to catch up as he walked away, falling into step beside him. “I suppose I can help you out,” they said. “Since you’re lost. Wouldn’t want you to get trapped in here, would I?”

—

It continued to not make him feel great. Like Baz might be watching for him to commit some sadistic crime. Which Bellamy, sure as anything, knew he would never do. He had never broken any law, that he was aware of. At least, until the cafe. But he didn't exactly feel in control, then. If he were being honest. He exhaled a little, not wanting to think about it. He hadn't caught any trouble from it, perhaps the guy had even decided he did deserve it, and looked the other way. Clearing his throat then, Bellamy could feel a headache coming on suddenly while he was thinking about it, and the anger that triggered along with it.

Still, the way Baz looked at him only added to that annoyance that he felt drawn in with, then. He had to learn to control whatever this was that was going on with him, whatever was wrong, it was dangerous. He didn't want to hurt Baz, or anyone. But he had, at least once. To his knowledge, and he figured, if he could do it once, he could do it again. He had probably done so more times than he could currently remember. There were far too many gaps in his memory to feel like he could trust himself, as much as he couldn't trust others these days. Closing his eyes, he felt the throbbing in his head growing.

Though, at Baz's words, he lifted his head, looking toward the other, sipping from his drinks, "Yeah. But given what town we are currently in, I guess weird things happen all the time. Maze might be magic!" He suggested, clearly not believing even what he was saying, given his sarcastic tone. Though, again, a squint, a look of judgment had him turning his attention away once more, exhaling, "Doesn't mean you can't do it." Bellamy retorted, giving a small shrug of one shoulder. He knows he didn't do it, as far as he can remember. The excuse the other gave of 'being a creator' didn't fly with Bellamy, "Sometimes, to create something, you must break it first. Sooo, what you're saying there is, eh, not selling me on your innocence."

As he was walking to the path, he heard the other beginning to follow him. His eyes were partially rolling in his head as he listened to Baz excuse their own reason for following him. Which, where else was Baz going to go? Bellamy turned his head a little to look slightly in Baz's direction, "Oh. Thanks, I'm looking forward to the guy who wants to blame the aquarium tank breaking on me, also helping me out of a maze. But, since I'm lost, I suppose I can't be a choosey beggar, right?"

—

“You’re not still fighting that flu, are you?” Baz asked, still eyeing Bellamy warily. The other was looking a bit uncomfortable, eyes squeezed shut in a way that reminded the doppelganger a bit too much of the moment in the aquarium before his whole demeanor had changed into something else entirely. They weren’t sure they believed a flu was to blame for any of it — that seemed a convenient excuse to Baz, and as they were the master of convenient excuses, they were sure they knew one when they saw one — but if it was what Bellamy chose to go with, that was how they’d refer to it. They didn’t want to bicker with Bellamy over what caused him to become so different in the aquarium; they were more interested in ensuring it didn’t happen again. Especially not in a maze where the paths were changing every time they looked away.

They hummed as Bellamy touted that magic could be the cause of their predicament. It was, of course; Baz was certain of that. What they were less certain of was whether or not Bellamy genuinely believed in such things. “Are you a believer of magic?” They questioned, wondering how much the other really knew. He lived in Wicked’s Rest, which did seem to have a larger population of nonhuman individuals than most places. But he was also the sort who demanded truth at all turns, and that didn’t quite go with the magical world, did it? Humans who were aware of the world of magic tended to believe in its secrecy for one reason or another. That was why none of them were running about telling everyone they met what fueled Netherville and the like.

“Well, everyone’s capable of destruction, aren’t they? But I don’t tend to partake in it. Though I suppose creation and destruction go hand-in-hand, if you think of it that way. Is painting a canvas destroying the white beneath? Is sculpting a statue destroying the clay’s natural shapeless form? Is writing a poem destroying the notebook you’ve scribbled the words into? I’d say no, but perhaps you have a more nihilistic view of things.”

They didn’t have time for this. Not for the bickering or the waxing poetic or even for shooting Bellamy looks of suspicion and unease. They wanted out of the maze, and there was no one around but Bellamy to help them achieve that. Time to swallow all the fun bits of their personality to be more agreeable, then. “Let’s not talk about the aquarium!” They said, clapping their hands together. “Let’s focus on the here and now! We should go right at this next turn.” Based on absolutely nothing, but it seemed as good a direction as any.

—

Bellamy stares at Baz for a couple of seconds when they ask that question, his eyes narrowing on them for a moment. Before nodding, “Yeah.” He answered, moving his drink once again to take a sip from, “What, they don't get flu's from wherever you're from? Some of them can last a while.” He looks away, not imagining the other cared at all what he was feeling, sick, especially. Since Baz left him at the aquarium while he was pretty ill. Though Bellamy didn't expect anything at all from Baz, it only served to prove, well, a couple of things about Baz. Mostly, he was disappointed, though still not expecting any help. He knew for sure not to ever try and get Baz's. As the other would probably ditch him to die. That's what Bellamy saw Baz as, a coward. Made sense, he supposed.

“No.” He answered the others' questions coolly. Of course, he wouldn't believe something like that. It was all science to him, anyway. But, did he want magic to exist, of course. It wasn't that he was without fantastical and whimsical desires. But that he lived in a reality that he had to accept, but could fantasize about others, of course. Bellamy blinked and looked away, “Unfortunately, I live in reality, where magic is impossible. You'll have better luck finding miracles.” Which science could certainly make? Exhaling, he chews at the end of his straw a little bit, “Do you think magic exists then?” Bellamy questioned, with a faint sneer.

As the other again started to excuse themselves with something silly, Bellamy's eyebrows raised. He lifted his head slightly before giving a slow nod at what he was hearing, “Right.” Of course, he wasn't questioning whether anyone was, or was not, capable of destruction. He was talking more about the fact that the many artists and creative outlets, or rebuilding of anything, tended to come with a form of destruction. That wasn't including the fact that a lot of people, who would probably find it cruel to keep the aquarium as it was, would probably opt to destroy the tanks to break the 'cage' and set the 'birds free'. Baz seemed, in a way, to him, that sort of 'artist', too. Looking Baz over, Bellamy smiled a little, “I didn't ask for your life story as a complicated artist, Baz. So you can save the poetic waxing for the time being.”

“I can assure you, my view of things is not nihilistic, as much as you might wish to paint me in such dark colors. Try using colors sometimes, to paint me instead, maybe instead of looking for everything you want to hate about me. Be an artist, and find the beauty in me, you neglect to observe.” He leaned in a bit as he said this, pointing an index finger from the hand currently holding his drink. Slyly, he looked Baz over before turning his head away.

Now, walking, Bellamy narrowed his eyes when the other was following and tried to take the attention off the conversation at hand. Bellamy half rolls his eyes again, taking another sip of his drink from the straw, “Sure. Whatever gets you out of feeling like the horrible person you are, right?” Glancing at the next turn, he nodded and walked in that direction, “You know. You'd be pretty alright if you didn't spend so much energy getting twisted in your panties about me being right. But, let me guess, 'i don't wear panties'.”

—

“Not the sort you’ve got,” they replied, which was true enough. They’d never seen any sort of flu that could make someone act as Bellamy had in the aquarium; they still weren’t convinced flu was the right word for it at all, but if using Bellamy’s own terms was the best way to keep him from acting as he had before, they’d do just that. “You really ought to see a doctor about that, mate.” Or an exorcist. They wouldn’t be suggesting that again, either, of course. They wouldn’t suggest anything at all that might make Bellamy snap. Bad enough that they were trapped in a maze with him.

They hummed as Bellamy replied, quite decisively, that he didn’t find magic to be a plausible thing. It was hard to know if it was the truth or not, but Baz’s gut told them it likely was. Bellamy seemed to know very little about the supernatural world, if he knew anything at all. “Oh, I think all sorts of magic exists,” Baz replied, not finding the stomachache a lie would bring worth it in this particular situation. “Life’s a lot more fun when you let yourself have things like that, you know.” That was also true, though it wasn’t the reason why Baz believed in magic. Baz believed in magic for the same reason they believed in oxygen; because they drew it into their lungs with every breath they took. Magic was as real to them as their heart pumping blood, because it was just as much a part of them. Not believing in it would be silly.

But that wasn’t the sort of thing they could explain to Bellamy, especially not when he already seemed to be in a foul mood. They let their mouth close and shrugged a shoulder, deciding it wasn’t worth the argument. If they wanted Bellamy to lead them out of the maze, they’d have to at least make an attempt at playing nice long enough for him to do so. “Suit yourself, then,” they replied, “but I imagine wandering around here’s going to get a bit boring without it.”

They were a bit surprised by Bellamy’s notions of how they perceived him, their head tilting to the side a bit as the other spoke. “I don’t hate you,” they told him. “But I can only paint with the colors you’ve shown me, can’t I?” Everyone had something hiding beneath the surface and sometimes, Baz could pull it out with ease. But it was a bit more complicated with Bellamy, especially since the aquarium. The parts of him he’d shown them there didn’t quite match with the rest of him, and Baz wasn’t sure which was more honest. One must have been a mask, but they couldn’t puzzle out which it was. And that was confusing, for Baz. Usually, they’d be able to figure it out. They couldn’t figure out what was so different about Bellamy, couldn’t figure out why he was set apart from everyone else. It was frustrating; it made them anxious.

They trailed along behind Bellamy, fiddling absently with the hem of their shirt. “I’m not a horrible person,” they replied defensively. “I don’t think you are, either, by the way.” They glanced around the maze as they moved, looking for any sign that they might be heading in either the right or the wrong direction. There was nothing to indicate either, which was frustrating. “I wear panties sometimes,” they replied absently. “Though we call them knickers, on my side of the pond. Anyway, that’s not why I argue with you. It’s not that you think you’re right — everybody thinks they’re right, don’t they? — it’s that you don’t want anyone else to be right. You argue with everything I say. Not just the silly things in the museum, but all of it. You think the worst of me, no matter what I do. You can see how that might be a bit frustrating, can’t you?”

—

“Yeah, I'd hope not. Seeing as to catch one, you practically have to have not had it before.” Bellamy explained. Though he was sure his exact 'sickness' was miles beyond comprehending, like that. When the other started to suggest what he should be doing with himself, he narrowed his eyes, “Yeah. Or maybe you should assume I already tried.” He partially rolls his eyes, “I'm not contagious anyway, so maybe stop telling me to get help.” It was so irritating. Especially since he knew something was wrong with him. But he couldn't figure out what, and if he had just shown up to the hospital like he was now, they might have thought he was losing his mind, or some hypochondriac.

Narrowing his gaze on Baz, Bellamy gave an annoyed huff when the other spoke, “I'm sure you think a lot of things that aren't true.” Or more, he thought the other thought about things they wished to be true. Why not magic, too? Bellamy believed in science, though, not magic. Not whatever else Baz liked to talk about those days in the museum, “Is it? What's your proof?” Bellamy asked with a slight smile, his head tilting slightly, “Are you happier for letting yourself have those things?” It didn't sound like it, going by their conversations online, the other was hard to read, of course. But he could tell a mask when he has seen one. Bellamy tilted his drink slightly from one side to another, as Baz spoke some more, “Mhm. Well, then it will have to get boring.” Bellamy shrugged at that. Boring was good, it was safe.

“It sure doesn't sound like that's true.” Bellamy mumbled in response, lifting the straw to his drink up to his lips and taking a sip as he let Baz continue. He shook his head, “That depends, right? Because you only see me as a nihilist, or something. I'm not.” He glanced at his cup, thinking quietly to himself for a moment, “Which means even if I show you my colors, you are choosing only to see me in black and white.” He grinned then, “That makes the absence of color in me, your fault.” Then again, he didn't imagine he would need to tell an artist how to see the seemingly unseen. That's something they were good at. That Baz was basically asking permission to see that in Bellamy, and told Bellamy that, maybe, Baz was a shitty artist.

Continuing to walk the path they had been guided to, Bellamy looked forward, “Maybe.” Bellamy replied to Baz's defensive response, “You just don't think you've done anything horrible, yet.” He then added. But Bellamy could certainly count some awful things Baz had done, maybe not awful, but it didn't help to make Bellamy feel Baz wasn't kind of horrible, either. “Baz, what's a nihilist?” Bellamy then asked, lifting his head a little. He knew the answer, he just wanted to hear what Baz had to say on the word. Bellamy looks away again, frowning as Baz speaks of wearing his panties sometimes. Bellamy could only nod at that, having nothing to add.

“That's not true. It's that everyone else is usually wrong. I don't care if I'm right. That's not the point of why I try to set things right, with you.” He looked over, “I care if you're wrong. That's what I don't want. I don't want wrong. That's a difference between me wanting to be right.” He pauses, thinking, then nodding. It was just that, he just didn't want other people to be wrong. If he were wrong, he would himself want to be corrected. But he was rarely ever wrong, he had just yet to be proven right, sometimes, when others thought he was wrong. Bellamy sighs, “Do you think it's worse to be wrong and make others think you're right. Or to be right, and let others be wrong? I try not to be either.” Bellamy narrowed his eyes on Baz then, “Yes, well-” He paused, looking around for a moment, before slowly continuing again, “You enjoy wrongness. You forgive it, because if it brings you happiness, who cares about the truth? You aren't frustrated with me. You're frustrated by the truth, which makes you unhappy. I'm just its mouthpiece that you can project your frustrations onto.”

—

“Is that true?” There was a genuine sort of curiosity to the doppelganger’s tone because, in all honesty, they didn’t know a lot about human illness. They were fairly certain they were immune to it, even when the face they wore was human; after all, they could always swap their anatomy out for that of someone undead, which brought with it immunity to most, if not all, illnesses. They were curious, though; they liked learning, even when it might not seem like it. They liked knowing more about humans. They’d always found them to be a neat species. “It’s got nothing to do with your being contagious. You look ready to keel over. I’m telling you to get some help because I don’t want that to happen.” Bellamy was a bit annoying, sure, but Baz didn’t wish harm on him even after the aquarium incident. Generally, Baz didn’t wish harm on anyone unless they were an active threat to themself or someone they cared about. Violence and pain of any sort always made their skin crawl uncomfortably. They’d never had the stomach for it.

There it was again, that bitter tone in Bellamy’s voice. Baz had to wonder if the other always saw the worst in everyone, or if Baz was special. Perhaps they’d earned some of the disdain, though they themself were incapable of comprehending how. Baz thought everything they did harmless, even when they had express proof to the contrary. “I believe in the possibility of truths unknown to me,” they replied with a shrug. “Surely you’re not arrogant enough to think you know exactly how the world works in every aspect, with no slight risk of being wrong? I think proof of certain kinds of magic are all around us, if we look closely enough.” Of course, they could offer Bellamy concrete proof right here and now. They could swap their face out for another and leave little room for doubt. But though they were certain he was no warden, Bellamy wasn’t anyone Baz thought they could trust. They couldn’t run the risk of him taking some sort of action against them, be it out of fear or out of intolerance. (They liked to think fear a more likely motivator; Bellamy didn’t seem the intolerant sort.)

“Oh, trust me, mate, you’d know if it wasn’t true.” Speaking a direct lie would tie Baz’s stomach into knots, though Bellamy couldn’t know that. They were sure it was far easier for him to assume Baz was a liar in everything they said and did; he seemed to prefer that thought to a more honest one. “Because that’s what you’ve shown me. In every situation, I’ve watched you find the worst parts and magnify them. I’ve watched you do the same to me — assuming I only care if you see a doctor because I worry you’ll give me your cold rather than entertaining the possibility that I care whether someone is ill or not, for example. If that’s not how you want to be seen, why not show me something different? Why not attempt to see things from my perspective rather than assuming I’ve some nefarious, selfish reason for every word I speak? I’ve been trying, Bellamy, to be kind to you. You could at least recognize that.”

The whole thing felt impossible, really. Not the maze — though that was beginning to frustrate, too — but the conversation. No matter how Baz tried to push forward, no matter what peace offerings they tried to lay between the pair of them, Bellamy wasn’t interested. And perhaps that should have been enough for Baz to stop trying, because it wasn’t as if Bellamy was the first person who’d ever disliked them, was it? It was hardly a rare thing for someone to decide who Baz was and accept no argument to the contrary. It was just frustrating. The idea that someone who hardly knew the first thing about them had some vision of who Baz was in their mind and thought they knew better than Baz themself wasn’t one they enjoyed. They sighed at Bellamy’s question, shaking their head. “Don’t see much a point in offering a response to that,” they admitted. “I don’t imagine it matters much what I say. You’ve decided what I mean before I’ve opened my mouth at all.”

And that was it, wasn’t it? Bellamy swore it wasn’t about him being right, but insisted that everyone else was wrong all the same. “But you are wrong, Bellamy,” Baz groaned. “About many things. And you refuse to so much as listen when someone — or me, I suppose, I can’t know if you do the same with everyone — tries to tell you as much. You can’t say you want people to correct you if you’re wrong if you go about denying every correction you’re given without so much as entertaining it, can you? I am frustrated with you. I don’t want to be, but I am. And you can tell me I’m wrong about that — I imagine you will, since you seem to enjoy telling me I’m wrong about everything — but I think I know a bit better than you do about the contents of my own head, wouldn’t you agree?”

—

“Generally, yeah. Strains are different, each time you get them.” He said, “That's why you get them. You're not entirely immune to them for the rest of your life. But there's a lot of strains, that's why you get them, and a lot of them are similar.” Bellamy explained politely. He didn't mind telling the other things when they were being petulant about it and actually wanted to know something. Bellamy had never been rude, in that way, not even toward Baz, what he said was usually factually accurate, as far as Bellamy knew and had understood. Not just things he was saying because he had some desire to be in the right at all times. He let out a breath when Baz had then accused him of even looking sick. Bellamy scrunched his face a little, “I don't look that bad. You're exaggerating. And nothing is happening to me that you need to concern yourself with.” He really didn't look that sick. The body needs to at least be somewhat healthy. Even if the mind wasn't. It needed the body.

It wasn't easy when Bellamy couldn't comprehend that world of the supernatural or the magical. He was human, still. Even if his uninvited guest in his mind was far from being so. He had had no direct interaction himself with the supernatural and magical. So it was certainly far harder to bring him over to that side of everything. The arrogance was only due to that, the confidence that he had already known most of the world as it had been to him, rather than how it had been to Baz, who lived in a completely different world as far as Bellamy's own. Bellamy made a face, “Arrogant?” He then said as Baz was talking, glancing away, unsure what the hell was even being spoken about, not, and if Baz was even mentally well, themself, “What?” He looked the other over quickly, concerned, “I'm not- no. I didn't even say… I don't know exactly how the world works, to its ultimate end, no. The world, and with that, the universe, is strange and hard to comprehend, yeah. But I know things that are real, to me. Like, that each day the sun rises. Why does it rains? Why weather patterns are important. The science of things that are based in reality.” Bellamy paused, moving his head a bit as he continued to observe Baz, “Magic, like, miracles, right? Or things that have yet to be explained by research and science, right?” He questioned, unsure at that moment who Baz even was. He was sure, up until then, a fibber, someone trying to be important to others. Someone who preferred fun over facts. Though in a brief moment, he had seen something a little more unsettling with the other.

Bellamy raised his eyebrows when Baz spoke, then, slowly, nodded his head at the other. Not sure if he believed anything Baz would ever say, that was decided long before this conversation. But now, with what had just been spoken from the other, Bellamy had a bit more discomfort from Baz. As if he had just realized he was trapped in a room with a poisonous snake. Bellamy looked at the other, but continued to grin, and try to be as pleasant as he had been attempting this entire interaction, for the most part, “Oh? So it's only my fault you see me in a shade of nihilism.” Bellamy prodded slightly, not sure whether he should change how he should continue to talk to this person he felt so unfamiliar with at the moment, when he once felt so familiar with, at the beginning. Someone who may have been schizophrenic. Believing in magic wasn't the ultimate qualifier in Bellamy's books to be armchair diagnosed with that. But everything else about Baz that Bellamy knew did help him think that something of the sort was wrong with Baz, “Ah. Yeah. Well, there's a difference between your assumptions of me and my supposed assumptions of you.” He offered, then.

Swallowing, Bellamy blinks, looking away again, “I'm not doing my assumption from a place of malice, and your assumptions often are, awfully, presumptuous. Like, me calling you a fibber, and that making me think you're a bad person, only in that it might not be good for your or others, to fib. But you call me a nihilist, which is wrong, I'm not. Unlike you, who is a fibber. Who doesn't care if those fibs lead to bad things? That's selfish of you. Because it has only shown me you don't care about other people. So circling back, you don't care if I'm sick. You care if it affects you, if I'm sick.” That was the crux of some of the issues between them, Bellamy didn't see the Baz that Baz thought Bellamy was seeing. He saw someone who was selfish, who was often embellishing on things he took joy in, so ruining the experience in some way for him. Even if it was amusing. It was still ruinous, to Bellamy's experience, “I do recognize you trying. It just means nothing when everything you are seems made up and inauthentic. Even your attempts at kindness to me are for you. Not for me, it's to make you feel better.”

Walking, Bellamy turned his head as they made their way down the path, reaching a hand out, he delicately cupped a leaf of one of the many on the maze wall, before yanking it off the stem and holding it close to his face as he observed it. When Baz gave a response of non-response, he nodded his head, “Of course.” He responded in a similar tone. Then he rolled his eyes, again, the other was making everything about them! Bellamy sighed, tucking the leaf into his pocket and adjusting the bags on his arm again, “You don't see the point in offering a response, yet you feel as if you must. And by doing so, you show that you still only want to talk about you. How you feel, how you see things. How it affects you. You. You. You. You. How I've decided what you mean, because of seeing who you are. Or the side of you that you have only let me see. Which I see as selfish, inconsiderate, and frankly, attention-starved and demanding that everyone pretty much agree with you, wrong, or right, or wanting to have fun irregardless of which. If they don't, oh, well, they are nihilistic, or don't have whimsy!” He waved his hands a bit, the bags on his left arm crinkling and the cup with ice in it in his right hand, swishing against the plastic, “You've decided who I am- this isn't a soap opera, Baz. I'm not ruining your life by telling you the truth. I'm trying to help you! Which is clearly something everyone else in your life failed to do.” Bellamy did want to try to help Baz, even if it was through a blunt misunderstanding of reality to supernatural and magical elements. Bellamy didn't know that. So he could not know he was wrong, he just thought Baz was mentally unwell.

Bellamy exhaled when Baz said he was wrong, lifting his head and rolling his eyes into his head as this continued on, “Ugh!” He growled lowly in disdain, “Maybe because every correction I've heard is wrong? And no, I don't correct you, or anyone, when I'm wrong. Just to be right. I agree and accept when I'm wrong.” He moved his right hand out, gesturing a bit, “Just because you don't want to talk about those moments, in favor of thinking I'm always correcting you. Doesn't mean those moments didn't happen. You just can't use them at this moment, because it doesn't benefit you and makes you think you're right.” Bellamy grins as he said that, “Isn't right? That might work on other people, Baz. But it doesn't work on me. I have a very good memory.” Now, he knew Baz was someone he was talking to online, and had agreed many times there, with plenty of what Baz had to say, but he couldn't bring that up, to add to any other situation as proof that that was what Baz was doing, “Of course I'm always going to sound like I'm trying to be right, when you don't include a whole conversation and only want to talk about the times I'm right, and you didn't agree.” Bellamy narrowed his eyes, “That's unfair. And besides, what could I be wrong about in this conversation we are having? Reality? Not believing magic actually exists? Baz. What do you want from me here?” He questioned, so confused.

“I don't enjoy telling anyone they are wrong. I like to inform people about information they didn't know. It's not pleasant to have to tell someone they are wrong. Because-” He paused, frowning, and paused in his walk. A brief flash of memories he had been working to forget came to mind. He shook his head, “I'm not trying to tell you what's going on in your head? But, at the same time, it's not the inside of your head I'm talking about. It's what's leaked out of it, that I can see. That I know you by. I don't want to entertain your reality, since, as you said. You know the contents of your own mind. And so, I do know mine.” He started walking again, walking passed Baz, “I don't know what you see of me, but I don't see you as dark as you make it seem you see me. Just confused, and in need of help. Like most people are. Do you really think that's so nihilistic of me?”

—

It was interesting, the illness discussion. Baz didn’t know much about it, and had never really had a reason to learn. Sebastian had never gotten sick in the time Baz had lived with him — something they now thought might have been a sign at his not-quite-human status — and it wasn’t as if Joel got the sniffles, either. Perhaps that was why Bellamy’s illness seemed so obvious — and so concerning — to Baz. They had nothing to compare it to. “Well, I am. Concerned.” They couldn’t quite keep up with what Bellamy wanted from them; one moment, they were being called selfish, the next they were being told not to concern themself with his health. It felt like a game they weren’t sure how to win, and they’d never liked those. They weren’t a fan of losing.

“I’m not saying you’re arrogant,” Baz sighed, pinching the bridge of their nose. How did things always end up so circular with Bellamy? They tried to extend a hand, and it was misinterpreted as a slap. They tried to offer an olive branch, and it was viewed as an attempted stabbing. It was frustrating, to say the least. “I’m saying it would be arrogant to assume everything works exactly the way you’ve experienced it, all the time. I don’t think everything can be explained by science and logic. Maybe that’s a sign that science isn’t quite advanced enough yet, and maybe it’s not. But not everything can be narrowed down to numbers, yeah?”

They couldn’t suppress a groan now, throwing their head back in a clear expression of frustration. “What do you expect me to do here, Bellamy? Would you like me to gain some power to read your mind, to know exactly what you intend, when you intend it? You’re certainly not doing the same for me. I’d say it’s a bit hypocritical for you to accuse me of jumping to conclusions about you when you seem to take every word I say as some slight against you, but I’m sure you’d only use that to further your narrative against me.” On some level, they knew that it wasn’t entirely Bellamy’s fault they were snapping. They were frustrated with the situation more than they were with the other person involved in it — they disliked the maze, disliked the feeling of being trapped, disliked all of it — but they couldn’t very well snap at the hedge walls around them, and so Bellamy became the only sensible target. The frustration towards him was real, in any case, but Baz would have normally done a better job swallowing it. “That, right there! My making assumptions about you is a given, in your eyes, but you making them against me is ‘supposed.’ You don’t think that’s a bit of a double standard?”

It didn’t feel as if they were getting anywhere. Not in the maze, and not in the conversation, either. Both physically and metaphorically, Baz felt as though they were walking around in circles. “It’s not on you to decide where I’m coming from without bothering to ask, Bellamy,” they sighed, the frustration growing larger in their chest. “You hardly know me, but you act as though you know exactly what I’m feeling, exactly what my intentions are. You say I feel one thing, even when I’m telling you I feel another. You tell me I’m making unfair assumptions about you, then state that any assumptions you’ve made about me are valid ones because… what? You’ve had a handful of conversations with me in all of two different settings? You’ve got to see how this sort of thing comes across. You can’t know why I do and say what I do and say because you don’t know me.” Even Baz couldn’t always pinpoint their own motivations; the idea of someone else thinking they could was a bit laughable. Bellamy couldn’t know Baz, no matter how well he claimed to, because Baz wasn’t a solid thing. They were made of clay, of possibility. The Baz who walked beside Bellamy in the maze wasn’t the same Baz who lounged on Joel’s sofa. The Baz who walked beside Bellamy in the maze wasn’t even the same Baz Bellamy met in the museum, who wasn’t even the same Baz he’d run into in the aquarium. They were a different person with every breath they took. No one could ever know them completely, and certainly not without asking.

The frustration wasn’t going away, and the maze wasn’t opening up into an obvious path that would lead them home. If there had been some other direction to head in, Baz would have taken it to get away from the conversation, even if doing so meant being alone. They thought they might prefer that to Bellamy’s company now, and there was something strange about that. They’d never wanted to be alone once, not in their entire goddamn life, but Bellamy made it seem a far more tempting alternative to continuing this conversation. “Okay. Let’s put everything else to the side and say you’re right — which you’re not, but for the sake of this argument, we can pretend. Who are you to ‘help’ me to begin with? I haven’t asked for your help. I don’t want your help. So why take it upon yourself to help someone who isn’t interested if not to give yourself a boost of feeling superior? I hardly think you’d call systematically listing a person’s flaws altruistic, unless you don’t understand people at all. But if you don’t understand people at all, aren’t any assumptions you make about me obsolete?”

But it was like talking to a brick wall. There wasn’t anything Baz could say that made Bellamy listen, and it was frustrating. They didn’t want to argue endlessly, because they didn’t even like arguing. But how could they sit and listen to someone else misunderstand them so blatantly? How could they stand idly by while someone told them who they were and got every inch of it wrong? They’d lived that bit. They’d spent decades with their father telling them who they were to be at any given moment knowing they weren’t allowed to argue. If arguing was an option now, wasn’t it one they had to take to make up for all the moments where they couldn’t before? Wasn’t it something they needed to embrace, even when it felt pointless? But Baz was tired. They were getting nowhere, trapped in two different mazes with no exit to be found.

“You have a very good memory,” Baz repeated, “so you must remember telling me that any attempts I make at kindness are for myself. Isn’t that a clear assumption of what’s going on inside my head? Just because you’ve decided something is a fact doesn’t mean it is one. I know more about any kindness I partake in than you do, because I am the one partaking in it. I am the one thinking the thoughts that lead to it. I am the one who knows the motivation. To assume otherwise is to assign your perspective to my thoughts, Bellamy, and it’s not fair to me. I’m not confused. I don’t need help. And I don’t see any point in continuing this conversation if you’ve already decided you’re the one in charge of both talking roles.”

—

He could tell, even for a moment, the smallest of them, that Baz actually had been paying attention to him. Not to just respond and be combative. But to actually listen to him. Which was, probably, all he had wanted all along. More than just about anything. Not in general, of course, people listened to him usually, often. Others, even, pretended to listen to him. He could certainly live with that, too. No. Baz instead liked to counter him at every turn. Bellamy was happy to help until the other had opened their mouth. It just didn't come off as genuine, with all that he had already observed from Baz. All that way Baz had treated him already, more so at the aquarium recently. Blaming him for that glass breaking. Bellamy turned his head a bit, feeling annoyed again, because he knew it would be best to believe Baz wanted to be concerned. Bellamy just didn't honestly think Baz was capable of actually being concerned, “Right.”

“I heard you. But you are talking to me. So I answered as me.” Bellamy stated with a sharpened exhalation and glanced away, looking for a way out of here. He brings the straw to his drink back to his mouth, having another casual sip. The more the other spoke, the more it just seemed like they were trying to annoy him. Or, as things were unfolding, starting to make Bellamy feel like there was something disturbed with Baz. He then gave a shrug, “Great. Because I don't think that things work as I experience. I think a lot of things work, however, based on most statistical data that I've observed.” Bellamy wouldn't want anyone to experience life the same way he had, he didn't want that sort of experience himself. As Baz continues, he narrowed his eyes, observing the other still, thinking briefly on the rest of what Baz had said to him just then, “Yeah. It's not. That's the problem and the point. We are doing well, right now. But it needs to be better. For everyone.” Bellamy replies, then laughs. He wanted to say more about the very last bit. But Baz didn't seem the sort to entertain, especially at the moment, how many numbers and vibrations were essentially part of everything.

The chemical engineer continued to listen to the other, frustrated in part with Baz, but trying so very hard not to lose his cool entirely with the other. He knew, like with many others. That if he got too rude, even though it could be hard, they wouldn't entertain him any longer. It was difficult, however. He didn't want to treat everyone like they had the intelligence of children, but so many basically did, compared to him. For a lot of his friends, he was like a Wikipedia page, or something of the sort. He always knew the answers to the questions they had. Baz didn't have questions so much as it seemed Baz demanded that he not be right. People like this exhausted Bellamy, because there was no real way to talk to them about anything else, “I don't need you to read my mind.” Bellamy stated then, tilting his cup a little, it was almost empty. Which would mean he wouldn't have anything to help ease his growing anxiety with this situation. As well as cut into the time he would need to take some pain relief at home. “ I would like for you to stop confusing a lot of what I'm saying, to suit you. You're adding to all this a lot more than need be.” Though Baz was hardly listening to what Bellamy had said, “I observe you, you don't observe me. You haven't. Because you're too busy thinking about how wrong I am.” Taking another sip from his drink, he raised his eyebrows.

“You're making assumptions about me is a random excuse you are using to deflect my more than likely accurate assumptions you think I'm making about you. But, again, I've observed my target. I see you at the museum regularly, Baz.” Then the aquarium most recently. He wasn't sure why Baz was going ahead and just discrediting him from that. Of course, he also didn't know about the entirety of what happened at the aquarium, which was his own fault, and how strange he was acting. Baz is telling him anything that happened during that blackout. It would be difficult to convince Bellamy. He realized how awful that was, how anyone could just say he did things during blackouts, how people did say that he did things during blackouts. That he wouldn't have done, or couldn't remember. Bellamy sips more anxiously at the drink in his hand, as these thoughts started to flood his mind about how people could use those sorts of things against him! Narrowing his eyes on Baz, he hissed, “It's because you think I'm a nihilist, and I'm not, it discredits all else you have to say about me. Because if you're wrong about that, you're probably wrong about everything else. I'm not wrong about you exaggerating at the museum. I'm not wrong about how you cling to people paying you positive attention. You want affirmation from me? Earn it.”

Walking still, he sips more on his drink, till it's gone, and then continues to make that drinking noise on the emptiness within the plastic container while listening to Baz as the other spoke. He eyed over toward Baz, frowning when the other pointed out that he didn't know them, “Yes. I know I do. But I don't have more to go off of. Your behavior has told me these things. It's not like I'm admonishing you for all of it.” Half rolling his eyes at that, he thought that to do something so festering was a waste of his time. Though when it came to Baz at one moment, treating him like a plague victim, and then another moment acting concerned for him. As well as fabricating stories in history at the museum, he certainly had plenty to have formed one version of Baz that stuck out. Even in their online conversations, Baz always had to seem to get his say, or make the alternatives seem impossible, when it wasn't true. It wasn't like Bellamy knew that Baz was ever changing and wasn't consistent. Bellamy had to make Baz consistent, and that consistency led him to believe that the person standing in front of him was probably, if made angry enough, skin him alive. This caused some more apprehension with the conversation. But also, everything else that Baz had displayed in front of him was placed in a mental folder on how Bellamy formed Baz's character. Which was a selfish, inconsiderate, disconcerting, egomaniac. At least, most of the time. There were times when Bellamy enjoyed talking to, or even debating Baz, and he actually liked Baz quite a lot, despite these visual insights he had on the other.

Though it often seemed to be stuck in the online space, when these moments of enjoying Baz's company were had, most. Perhaps, Bellamy imagined, because Baz wasn't in presentation mode. Though, really, Bellamy was honestly confused more than anything about a lot of these things they spoke about. Well, not confused, ignorant of. Being entirely human and ignoring or associating things that were happening that weren't normal, even those things that were happening to him, there was a perfectly realistic and rational reason and explanation that he could understand. Bellamy exhaled when Baz was talking. If Bellamy knew that Baz was not human, not in a normal world as he had seen it, he would have called this unfair. Because a lot of Baz's frustration with him, was do to him not knowing things Baz had known. But, it was a town-wide secret, and further, worldwide. Most humans would not typically know these things that Baz was frustrated with Bellamy for, and Bellamy had to choose the frustrating option, because of that ignorance of what Baz knew, “Because it's the right thing to do? It-”

He pauses, thinking, “There's this scene in the movie, The Incredibles. The first scene is a man jumping from a building. But he is saved by a hero. He gets mad when the hero saves him.” Bellamy stares at Baz, “Even if you don't want it, Baz. Doesn't mean you don't need it. Even if you can't see it, it doesn't mean it's not there.” He shrugged, “It's not for superiority of any kind. I like you, even when you wrongly call me nihilistic. Or you say I'm assuming and make me a villain in this narration of yours, or at the very least, a frustration, I'm used to it. But you're different from most others who think I'm annoying, I think. I'm pretty sure most would agree with you, that I'm annoying. Sticking my nose where it doesn't belong. That you're right, because you're just having fun and it's not hurting anyone. Why should I stop you? Because. If I waited for you to ask for help, it might be too late to. I actually don't want something bad to happen to you, even if you're only faking your concern for me.”

“You can hate me for it, think I'm annoying. That's fine. I don't care. Because it's stupid, I know that. Why shouldn't I just let you embellish your stories at work? It's not hurting anyone. But… I think it's more than that.” He paused, not really sure how to add to that, “I'm not sure why. But you're so…you seem, so positive, and lovely, and it seems to me like a silent cry for help.” Maybe his wires were crossed, maybe he didn't understand the signals, he supposed. Bellamy just had a feeling when he first saw Baz that something was wrong there. Potentially, this was him trying to find what it was, but it was currently leading to misunderstandings and disagreements, “I'm not just listening to your flaws, though. But, whoo, you have quite a lot for someone your size.” He teased before turning his head and looking away, sipping at the empty cup again. The last question lingered in his mind quietly for a moment. “I can notice things, and not understand them, you know. So can you, so can anyone. I guess I'm just weird like that, pointing out flaws to others, unasked.”

Staring over at this relative stranger, Bellamy was sure that Baz was the same person he had known at the museum, as well as the aquarium. But after the earlier and now the latest conversation, he was feeling less secure. Not that any of those characteristics he had saved in that mental folder were now to be changed. But that he was certain there was more Baz was hiding, and that he wasn't doing a very good job at finding those hidden features. That honestly didn't seem like appealing features. Walking quietly for a time, Bellamy glanced around at the bare walls, feeling more pain up his side, and his head starting to get a bit confused, “Yes. I do.” Bellamy answered when the other spoke, “They…are, Baz… You don't care about me. You're not kind …to-t- to me. “ Walking a little more unsteady, a thin sheen of sweat had formed over his body, beating around his neck, “Mmm. If it's not going on in your head. It's certainly something I'm seeing you doing. So.” He started walking away from the other absently. Though his eyes scanned the area, with reality loosening, he was starting to feel like something outside of the two of them was around. Looking back toward Baz.

Bellamy nodded his head. Bellamy supposed that Baz just wasn't honestly getting that it wasn't that he was trying to get into Baz's head, or truly know what was going on in it. But based on the others' actions, he was certain of what might be going on in Baz's head through that, “I can't …actually read your mind. I can only take from your actions. Just like you can only assume my thoughts. I can only assume yours. But have I done some action to lead you to believe I'm a nihilist? You think I basically believe that nothing has meaning, even though find meaning in you. Why would I try and help you, who doesn't want it, if I'm a nihilist? Why would I care like that?” He looked toward the other, making a face, “That's what's really not fair, Baz. You say I'm this, and then get upset when I do it back.” He grinned, “It's not so funny, now, huh? To have someone say you are something you think you are not.” That did not, however, mean that Bellamy did not believe that Baz was much of the things Bellamy observed him to be. They were true. As far as Bellamy could perceive, and he knew Baz would be upset being called those things out loud.

Falling behind the other a bit. Bellamy sways slightly, “I've not decided…anything…I'm just…explaining what I've seen, from you…” Bellamy explained then, “I'm not interested in being …in charge…Stop assuming everything, just because you're mad at…basically your own game.” Laughing a little, Bellamy shook his head, “And you're losing. You know how it feels now. You think the worst of me. But the second…I do-” Taking in a breath, he tilted his cup, “It to you…you don't like that! Typical.” Only stopped suddenly when he saw an unconscious woman on the ground in front of him. Only for him to see, “So...weird... I knew...her.” Dropping the empty cup, he knelt down, reaching a hand out toward the illusion.

—

When they were a kid in London, their mum bought a treadmill. It had seemed so silly, like a funny human thing. Baz remembered her putting it in one of the many rooms that sprawled throughout their house, remembered the way she encouraged human guests and employees to have a go at it. Most had thought it odd — Baz didn’t think humans did that to one another, invited each other over to run on a treadmill — but they usually did it all the same, just to be polite. They remembered the hungry look in their mother’s eyes as she’d watched her guests run, remembered how long it took for them to realize that she was making a meal of the display, feeding on the energy and the euphoria that came with running in place. For the longest time, they’d missed that. For the longest time, they’d thought there was something special about the treadmill itself that caused that look in their mother’s eyes, something that made her unable to look away from the people running atop it.

For a child who had always been so desperate to be looked at, it had been a tempting thing. Baz wasn’t allowed to touch the treadmill — Baz wasn’t allowed to touch most things in that house, had always been made well aware that they were a thing to be neither seen nor heard until someone had something to ask of them — but late one night, when everyone else was sleeping, they’d snuck into that big room anyway. They couldn’t remember the face they’d been wearing at the time. Their childhood was like that, a blur of different children whose faces they’d borrowed for different reasons mingled in with the occasional adult body that their childish mind had piloted like a mech suit. The face in the memory was a blurry thing, a blob of paint haphazardly smudged across a canvas, but they remembered how it felt to climb up onto that treadmill. They remembered their small fingers smashing the buttons, remembered the whirring as it came to life.

And then, after, they remembered the fear. They hadn’t quite understood how the treadmill worked. They hadn’t quite realized what it did. One moment, they’d been standing and the next, the ground was moving beneath them. They’d run without going anywhere, their feet slapping against the treadmill with a confused desperation. They’d felt like a small fish swimming against a harsh current, hyperaware that, sooner or later, they would be unable to overcome it.

Eventually, they’d stumbled. They’d tripped, and they’d been thrown back by the force of the treadmill. Their body had tumbled across the floor, they’d been slammed back into the wall, and it hurt. And through it all, the treadmill still whirred, continuing on as if nothing had happened at all.

Talking to Bellamy felt a bit like running on that treadmill. It didn’t matter how hard they tried, didn’t matter how fast they ran, they weren’t going anywhere. Sooner or later, they’d be thrown back into something hard, and the conversation, like the treadmill, would probably continue moving as if nothing had happened at all. Baz could slam their feet against the ground, could explain to Bellamy over and over and over again their point of view, but he was never going to listen, was he? His mind had been made up a long time ago. He’d decided on the ending before ever really opening the book. It didn’t matter if his assumptions were wrong; he’d think them right, anyway. The treadmill would continue to whir long after Baz got off of it. The only real choice they had was whether they stepped off or were thrown.

They weren’t quite stubborn enough to dig their heels in. Baz liked to think of themself as the sort of person who fought back when it mattered, even if it had taken them twenty-something years to fight back against their father, but they weren’t the sort who could stand to say the same thing over and over again knowing that they would never truly be heard. It wasn’t as if they weren’t used to being misunderstood; their entire life, they weren’t sure they’d ever really known anything else. No one knew them, and no one ever really would. Bellamy’s incorrect assumptions, and the way he stood by them even after being told directly that they were incorrect straight from the source, was proof enough of that.

And so, Baz sighed. They shook their head, too tired to keep up the fight much longer. “You just think what you want to think, yeah?” They said, rolling their eyes a little. “You’ve made up your mind. Doesn’t much matter what I say, does it? You’ve got an idea in your head of who and what I am, and you won’t be convinced otherwise. You’ve seen me at work a handful of times, so you’re an expert. Know everything there is to no, with no room for anything else. I’m not going to stand here and tell you how I feel just so you can tell me I’m wrong, Bellamy. I know what I feel. I won’t pretend to know everything, but I know what’s in my head. You can take that, or you can leave it. I don’t really care anymore.” They wanted to defend themself further, of course, wanted to insist that they did care, because they thought it was true, but they weren’t sure what the point of it was. Eventually, you stepped off the treadmill or you were thrown off, and Baz didn’t want to be thrown.

“Can we just focus on finding our way out of here? I’d just as soon avoid spending the rest of my life arguing with you in a bloody maze.” And Bellamy seemed to be flagging a bit, anyway. Baz couldn’t imagine what drove him out into a maze, or to the festival to begin with, if he’d been feeling this poorly. If he was as smart as he claimed to be, he ought to have known well enough to stay home when he was feeling ill. But he hadn’t, and he was here now, stammering his way through his assumptions and refusing to hear any argument against them and drinking from an empty cup and… kneeling next to nothing and reaching out a hand.

The last one was a bit weirder than the rest of it, actually. Weird enough to be noteworthy, in any case. Baz faltered a little, eyes darting between Bellamy and the ground where he knelt. “Knew who?” They questioned, tilting their head to the side a bit. “There’s nobody there, Bellamy. It’s just… grass and dirt, like all the rest of the maze. Get off the ground, mate, c’mon.” They leaned forward, trying to get their hands under Bellamy’s arms to pull him up. They were half tempted to just leave him here, but they would feel badly about it. (Because they cared. See how that worked? Had they not already committed to stepping off the proverbial treadmill, they’d have said as much aloud!)

—

It was never about what he was thinking about Baz, and that was the truth of the matter. It was entirely about what he was seeing from Baz. Bellamy thought Baz was nice, and delightful. Though also someone who embellished historical facts to their own satisfaction, and was, in some way, a cowardly person. Which were parts of Baz that Bellamy was not a fan of? That was not the end all be-all to Bellamy. He knew there was far more to Baz than what he was seeing, but he couldn't know more until Baz showed him more, and actually listened to what he had to say, without making it about themself in some way. The frustration from this entire conversation wasn't helping much with how he was feeling, either. “Whatever. I suppose I have to help you get out, since you wouldn't do it for me.” Bellamy snapped, his head throbbing. They would never get out of here if they had to rely on Baz. Baz would more than likely abandon him there, as far as Bellamy knew.

Though he didn't have much longer to focus on that, as his mind was fogging and his thoughts were feeling a bit more disjointed. Bellamy sways a bit, glancing from one side to another, wanting to find some way out of this place, more than just to get away from Baz for the moment.

Reaching out still, he could see the woman, as clear as anyone else, as clearly as he could see Baz with him now, “But, she's right there…clear as day…I see her.” He mumbled weakly. Moving his hand down to touch the woman, as he did, patterns of blood formed across her. Her head turned jerkily to look at him, pale-eyed and pale, gray-skinned. Bellamy jumped, jerking his hand away a bit as she spoke to him in a hissed breath before her head dropped limply back down, “No, no, no! Stay awake! I can fix it!” Bellamy quickly moved to press his hand on a splotch of red on the woman, “Please. I can…don't leave …I'm scared.” He cried, sounding much more like a child than the adult he was.

Then he looked up, his eyes moving from the woman to Baz who became a dark doorway leading into the pitch black outside of his childhood bedroom, the world suddenly transforming around him. Suddenly, he was four again, crouched beside his mother, blood pooling around her, his hands pressed to one wound on her, pleading with her, tears staining the sides of his face. Staring in front of him, Bellamy felt like the world had shrunk for a moment, a shadowed figure appearing in the doorway of his room. Before reaching out toward him with the words 'found him'. As the hand grasps around his face.

Bellamy's head hung for a moment before he looked up, a pitch black gaze locking onto Baz's own. Rising from his crouch, Bellamy's lips pulled up into a grin then, swaying slightly, not in injury or sickness at the moment. But in a much more whimsical fashion. It stares at Baz, adoringly. Before moving in close to the other, almost too close, it leaned in, sniffing at Baz uncomfortably close, “Hiii!” It greeted, suddenly grabbing Baz's face tight in Bellamy's hands and moving into press a kiss to Baz's forehead before shoving the other off and skipping away, “Are you lost?! I love being lost! I love being lost with youuuu!” It chirped out before coming to a stop at a turn in the maze, then, twirling, it made it's way down that bend, “This way, Biscuit!! I smell food!” Tossing Bellamy's bags of stuff at the wall, it shook out it's wrist, “More crap.”

—

They bit back the urge to point out that they’d been trying to help Bellamy find his way out of the maze, too, that they’d thought the pair of them were working together in all this. It wouldn’t do much more than sour the doppelganger’s mood, because Bellamy would never agree with them. Baz longed for someone else to be stuck in this maze with them instead. Had they been with Jenny or Joel or Rosemary, they’d have already found a way out. They were sure of that. Even someone they were less familiar with, like Madison or Molly, would have been more fun. Hell, they’d have taken their mysterious pen pal from their online interactions over Bellamy! At least then, they could have discussed their opinions on books and chatted as they walked without things devolving as quickly as they always seemed to where Bellamy was involved! The only person they thought wouldn’t be preferable to Bellamy — with the exception of those who had been outwardly violent towards them, of course — was Luc, with his sad eyes. Baz would like to avoid him for as long as possible after their last conversation.

Though… at least they thought they understood Luc a bit better than they did Bellamy, because they certainly had no idea what Bellamy was up to now. He was still crouching next to nothing, seeming to grow increasingly upset with each passing moment. Baz felt a lump in their throat that they had no real name for, discomfort spreading through them like something dark and uncomfortable.

“Bellamy, mate, there’s nobody there,” they tried again. Was this supernatural? Maybe some sort of creature in the hedges causing hallucinations? But Baz wasn’t seeing anything… were fae immune? Or was Bellamy the only target? Maybe the answer didn’t matter as much as getting Bellamy away from it, because he did seem distraught. He was almost like a child, the way he sounded. Fear had a way of infantilizing people, in a way; it made you feel younger than you were, and often made you look it, too.

Bellamy’s head dropped and when it lifted again, his eyes were black. Baz couldn’t help but remember the aquarium, and they took a careful step back. They hadn’t liked whatever that was, and they didn’t like the way Bellamy rose now, either. It was familiar in the worst way. Baz had to bite back a groan. This again.

They didn’t appreciate the kiss on their forehead as much as they might have under other circumstances, though they didn’t dislike it, either. Baz still liked being touched, after all, still craved it. “I’m not as much a fan of it,” they replied. “Are you done with your… moment, then?” He certainly seemed to be, the way he was prancing about. He seemed more certain of where he was going, too, which was odd, but Baz wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth and so they followed along behind. “Don’t you need all that? You’ve been carrying it.”

—

The hand had gripped onto Bellamy's face, jerking him back from the woman lying on the ground a bit as it had. This thing felt inhumanly large and inhuman feeling as the hand had pressed into and wrapped around him. Bellamy wiggled against it, feeling something begin to coat him, from this being that stood in the doorways, hand. He writhed in its clutches, screaming to be let go as the room started to fade into darkness around him. The hand and the part of the arm that attached to it melted down into a goo-like, ropey substance as it stretched out over him. Trying to pull himself free of the strange dark goo was futile, however, “Somebody!” Bellamy shouted out. Bright slits appeared in the darkness above him, more goo dripping down from the top of his dark prison. Bellamy panted as he noticed those purple slits, staring at them as pure distress started to wash over him. Those slits began to open wide, slowly for some seconds before finally popping open like spotlights, glowing bright purple. The eyes moved individually in the darkness from one another, surrounding Bellamy before coming together again on the opposite side of the darkness overtaking Bellamy, “No. No-don't!” He cried out, struggling more earnestly against the dark good pulling him into it.

Taking dramatic, expressive steps and swinging his arms, IT bobbed it's head and swayed a bit before turning, clicking IT's heels together as Baz spoke of Bellamy's discarded stuff, “Leave it. That's my stuff. I'll come back for it.” IT dropped Bellamy's head down a bit, “Once we finish playing with this maze, okaaaay? It's so heavy.” Perking up then, he turned away abruptly and continued on with how he was walking prior, hastily, it almost felt like some kind of mimic walk, the little Totoro's walk, from My Neighbor Totoro. Even though IT had yet to discover My Neighbor Totoro. Holding out Bellamy's arms just so slightly, to bring them back in in a 'pat pat' motion as he continued marching forward, “This way.” It turned Bellamy's head then, look back at Baz, smiling excitedly, “I'm hungry.” It then declares, stopping suddenly.

It stood, quiet and still as a statue for some time. A small roll of twitching and small convulsions gently rocked Bellamy's body before stopping still again. He smiled, “Do you like a burgers? And the fries? With…mmm fluff. Mmm.” Starting to walk again, it bumped into a green wall, pressing hard into it before finally stopping. “A wall!” It shouted, patting on it before turning quickly to look at Baz and him, in alone in the middle of a big square in the maze. “You think could have a garden or something around here, right?” Slouching a little bit, Bellamy's left shoulder jerked a bit, Bellamy's eyes half rolling into his head, “-on't…take more.” Shaking It's head then, it continued, walking around, “So, Biscuit. How long have you been a human for?” It asked, meaning how old Baz was, since Bellamy didn't know. But it could be interpreted in other ways. It smirks a bit, thinking of more questions to ask this pathetic human that was a little more funky than some humans. But there were certainly other funky humans, too. It had only ever dealt with the humans, because they were fun to ride around in.

—

“Do you think you’ll be able to find it?” Bellamy’s sudden confidence seemed to imply one of two things: either he had known where he was going all this time and had been dragging Baz along for the fun of it… or something had happened. But what? Was it the same thing that had happened in the aquarium, when Bellamy had gone from wanting nothing to do with Baz at all to refusing to let them leave when they were ready to go? And if so, what was it? What could there be about Bellamy that made him so randomly prone to such massive shifts in personality and behavior? Baz wondered again about possession, but they didn’t know enough about the subject to really know if it was a feasible concern or not. They thought ghosts and demons were real — they were relatively certain of it, in fact — but they didn’t know a lot about them. Those were human worries, and Baz had never been overly concerned with human things.

They were concerned now, though. And perhaps Bellamy would claim it came from a place of self-preservation, but that didn’t do much to lessen the strange tightness in their chest. They didn’t particularly want Bellamy to be possessed, even if he didn’t seem to pose much of a danger to them. They didn’t like the idea of him behaving this way if he wasn’t possessed, either, though, because they didn’t understand it. There wasn’t much fun in things you couldn’t make sense of, especially not things that seemed to have a very distinct, very daunting possibility of becoming dangerous before you could stop them.

In front of them, Bellamy stopped so abruptly that Baz nearly plowed into him. “Well, I haven’t got any on me,” they said, shrugging a shoulder. “If you want burgers, you’ll have to find a way out of this.” Bellamy was acting increasingly odd; Baz didn’t like it. “What are you on about? A garden? We’re meant to be finding our way out. Would you —” They cut themself off as Bellamy jerked, behavior odd and unexplainable. “Bellamy? Are you…” But before they could ask if he was okay, he was back to his strange behavior. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Bellamy couldn’t know that Baz wasn’t human, but they couldn’t interpret any other meaning of the question.

—

It stares at Baz, then blinks, before looking away. Baz may have been cute, it supposed. Smelled delicious, absolutely. But It could tell there wasn't a lot of work going on in the brain area. Turning Bellamy's head slightly, it stares away, realizing that Bellamy was far and beyond a better candidate than most, simply for that. A brain that was on fire, with overthinking, and an abundance of knowledge was a difficult mind to break. But there was a lot going on in that kind of brain, an engine that never stopped. It could live like this, for quite a long time. Maybe it was just being a little, mean, however? Not that it concerned it. Exhaling, It swallowed, clicking Bellamy's tongue off the top of Bellamy's mouth, “Blah blah blah blah blah. If you wanted to be helpful, you would. Instead of standing there, with a dumb look on your face, asking stupid questions.” It lifted Bellamy's right hand and glanced away, “Your inconsiderations are noted. We get it-you're messed up. But somehow, it’s going to be my fault for you standing there doing nothing.”

It moved in closer for a moment to Baz, “You're too cool and artsy, with your cute little quirky overly excited excrement to care about anyone outside that pea-sized little brain in your head. If they weren't what you wish them to be, to help you, in some way. But oh so want people to believe you do. But deep down, you're a deeply damaged nobody who will never be anything near a great artist, or a person of true compassion, for it, or anyone else who doesn't fit in your narrow-minded box. I'm not built for boxes, though. I'm built, wild, chaotic, and of matter you are too scared to explore. So keep looking at me, like that. Like I'm the fault, in your misguided arrangement of stars you have appointed to everyone in your life. When my only fault is, we are not one. Isn't something people want to rejoice in? Yet, all you can find yourself able to do is stand there, looking at me like that, as if you wish me dead. Or gone. Or made smaller for you. Because I'm something you can't see yourself in. You can't call me to heel to your stubborn desires.”

“Good. I'm unique, which makes me special. I bet that irks you in a way. Since it's almost the antithesis of what you are. And you, with all your similar stars you keep close to you, all of you, the same, it seems. You keep yes men in your direct circle. I refuse to bend to anyone who wants to clip my wings. You're no artist, Bitter. You're just another fool who wants praise and will leech it from anyone foolish enough to fall for your acts. So keep staring at me, like that. I'll be looking for a way out, while you do that.” Puckering Bellamy's lips a bit, it looked Baz over in with a pitiful look, “That's why you're being ...” Rolling Bellamy's right hand as it searched for the word to use, “Demoted...for the time being, to do nothing. Which is what you were doing anyway, so nothing will change. You can keep staring all you like now, Precious. No pressure. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself, thinking about anything too difficult.” A cunty little grin briefly formed over Bellamy's lips. It reached out to caress, softly, Baz's face, “Mm. So sad, what wonders you could be, with more capable function up here.” It laments, brushin a few fingers on Bellamy’s right hand gently across Baz’s temple’s. Then it turned away.

It turned it's head, not really sensing any danger amongst them. Of course not, it was the biggest danger around there! A light giggle left drifted out from between Bellamy's lips, “Want me to hold your hand? You can resume pretending you are helping or whatever this is you’re doing right now?” Rolling Bellamy's jaw a little as it looked over toward Baz, “I should have expected that, Basic.” It commented then. Looking around as it did. Though with it's question, and how Baz reacted, It paused. Turning slowly to look at the other, interest rekindled in the otherwise, about to soon become a meal in a few moments. Bringing Bellamy's hands together, it tapped the tips of Bellamy's fingers to each other, “What…do, you, mean?” It questioned, a cunning little grin forming over Bellamy's lips. A knowing, expressed over Bellamy's face. That did explain, things. Squinting, Bellamy's eyes ran over Baz's body, judging, studying. Oh, this had gotten so much more interesting, to it. Though it shook it's head, “Like, your age? I've been human for twenty-seven years, well, just barely.”

Bellamy's nose curled a little bit. “It's been…difficult, but not the worst, these past twenty-seven years.” It shrugged and turned it's head, “But that's what life is, you know? Difficult. Trials to get over? My trials seem much harder than others, sometimes.” Bellamy said, glancing away. It turned away then, “Anyway, we should go this way!” Pointing to the right, where the new path had just opened up as it moved along.

—

If the treadmill of having the same argument over and over again without gaining any ground was frustrating, the minefield of trying to avoid sending Bellamy into a self-important rant was exhausting. Baz had no idea what they’d said to elicit the barrage of insults, and they didn’t like that. They were no stranger to making people upset with them, but they typically had some idea what they’d said to do so. This — this endless rant that seemed so disproportionate to anything they’d actually said — felt a little too much like how their father might have reacted to Baz breaking some unspoken rule they hadn’t known existed. It was enough to make the doppelganger shrink back, just a little.

The thing was, though, it didn’t seem like Bellamy, either. Sure, Bellamy often came off as condescending, often spoke like he truly believed he was the smartest person in the bloody universe, but Baz rarely got the feeling that he was intentionally talking down to anyone. This was different. The constant use of whatever wrong name was on the tip of his tongue, the oddly personal insults, the tone. None of it seemed quite right. If not for the similar behavior at the aquarium, Baz might have wondered if the maze was doing something to Bellamy. Instead, they were left to wonder if they’d had the wrong impression of the man all along, and if this was something closer to who he really was.

“Sure, sure,” they said with a dismissive wave of their hand, trying to pretend they were less hurt than they were. No one liked being insulted, and Baz hated it more than most. It was a side effect, they knew, of having to wait twenty-odd years or so before ever getting a compliment that was aimed towards them rather than whoever they were currently pretending to be. “I get it. You’re special, you’re not like other girls. You’d have done numbers on certain websites in the early 2000s, mate, really.” They jerked their head back as the other moved to touch them, a rare moment of Baz not wanting to be touched. They loved any kind of physical contact most of the time. But this version of Bellamy — the one that was cruel for no reason, the one whose trigger was invisible in a way Baz hadn’t quite been able to detect — reminded them a bit too much of the angry man they’d grown up with. Passionate rants were often prelude to violent displays, where Franklin was concerned. Baz had little interest in finding out if Bellamy was the same. “Let’s keep our hands to ourselves here,” they said, just in case the motion wouldn’t be enough to clue Bellamy in there.

That was what the question had been about? Their age? Baz was hardly an expert in humanity, but they were almost certain that this wasn’t a typical way of asking a person about their age. Usually, people just asked how old are you? But maybe this was part of what made Bellamy ‘unique’ and ‘special’ and all the other things he’d touted during his big, dramatic rant about how terrible Baz was. The doppelganger rolled their eyes. “I’m twenty-eight,” they replied, though they were only marginally certain it was true. It was difficult to really know your age when how old you looked — and felt — changed regularly depending on what body you were using for the day.

They might have asked about Bellamy’s trials, under different circumstances. It didn’t often come off as it, but Baz did care quite a bit about other people. Not typically more than themself, sure — if it came down between getting themself out of this maze or getting Bellamy out, they wouldn’t have hesitated, and if it were more convenient to leave Bellamy behind, they’d have done it already. But they still cared, in their own way. They didn’t actively want anyone hurt, not even Bellamy, who was treating them poorly. Baz liked knowing people’s stories, too, liked being able to understand them better. People were like poetry; when you put all the words in the right order, it helped you better ascertain the meaning. And Baz liked knowing the meaning behind people… most of the time. They wanted it less now, though, after Bellamy’s cruel words and uncaring expressions. “I’m sure most people think they’ve got the hardest trials,” they replied, even knowing that it was probably an unkind thing to say. They weren’t feeling particularly generous. They weren’t feeling particularly trusting, either, but they didn’t think they had much choice beyond following Bellamy here. So Baz only nodded, looking less than enthused. “Sure,” they agreed, “we’ll go that way.”

—

It tilted it's head when Baz dismissed what it said. Of course, it was only picking at Baz with Bellamy's inner thoughts. But, it was starting to see why Bellamy might have had such disparaging thoughts, too. Baz was quite a headcase. Nodding Bellamy's head, it glanced away. The other was mostly keen on thinking they were talking in circles with it,…them? And could tell, honestly, quite easily that all the other did just then, was a defense mechanism against digging deeper with discussion, or otherwise, that might spark more than a blasé response. Baz might have had to think about their childhood, heaven forbid. It giggled a little at this realization, wanting to peek more into that melon head of Baz, more because of it. It raised a hand, index finger pointing, “No. I'm not. I have a specialty, about me.” Or, well, Bellamy, he had it. It was just as fascinated by that, too. What made Bellamy. Who was, gratingly so, honest and humble, authentically. Almost at times to an annoying degree. It loved when people confused this for something worse, too.

Staring at Baz, it twists it's nose up slightly, “Do you like to do that? Make others feel foolish, because they have a genuine uniqueness, and you're just you?” Glancing over Baz, It grins, “An artist.” It bites a little on Bellamy's bottom lip, “Oh. But. You're soo nice, you're just a harmless artist.” Raising Bellamy's eyebrows, it knocked it's head from side to side, “But lets say you are being your authentic self, right now. Or even back at the fish prison. -Say I'm just exaggerating who you actually are. At least, to me, it seems to be discordant rhymes to what you actually are, whatever that truly is.” It was picking up on something more, of course. But could not really distinguish it. Bellamy had no skill for this. And It would need to connect directly with Baz's brain to get anywhere further than cursory gleaning of what It, or Bellamy, had seen or heard.

Especially after the way they had answered the age question. It stares, before suddenly feeling weak, it's tendril digging painfully into Bellamy's brain. Suddenly, Bellamy's eyes had fluttered, the iris rolling around unfocused. As Baz was talking once more. Twenty-eight. Hardest trials that Baz imagined people liked to think they went through, they thought. So presuming. Though not entirely wrong, Bellamy mumbled in agreement to that, barely audibly. Sweat had formed thinly over his body. Swaying in his steps after a moment, he moved to stabilize himself against one of the hedge walls. Growing pale, he reached a hand up to the side of his head, gripping his fingers on his right hand along the chilled flesh, “I'm…I don't mean…it…I'm not-” He started, looking over toward Baz. Bellamy frowned weakly, looking considerably ill at the moment. “What I said… I don't know…what came over me.” Taking in a few heavy breaths, he turned his head away, knowing Baz was upset just by looking at the other. He couldn't explain more properly what came over him. That anger had been there even before It came along. But now It seemed to like to play with it, and many other things about him. He would forget this, later.

Bellamy stumbled a bit, before finally falling, landing on his knees. Hand still on his head, the space around them seeming to zoom in and out, shifting like he was on the ocean. Then blurred. Closing his eyes to it. Bellamy grew frustrated by this, a wound he could not see, and could not explain, of course. The world faded to black for a time before suddenly lighting up again.

Sitting in his childhood bedroom, he had a few Transformers set up ready to fight each other. The door to his room then cracked open. Revealing nothing but darkness beyond. Bright lights sparked up in the darkness after a moment, before his mother appeared, moving toward him, announcing that supper would be ready and for him to clean up. Then she stepped back, awkward, like a toy herself, into the darkness once again. Bellamy could only sit and stare, holding a Starkiller from Star Wars toy in hand, about to start the battle. He grumbled disappointedly before setting the smaller figure down in the middle of the battlefield. Then rose and ran out into the darkness outside the room.

A flash of memories caused him to wince as he sat down by the hedge wall, “I didn't mean it. I'm not. You know.” Looking up at Baz, he frowned, “I'm not special. I don't …like to be. You know? I hated it. That attention, that title.” Not that the other knew, or honestly, even cared. Clearly. Bellamy sighed, “I-…mmm…not…not…better than anyone… I think that's good… But- You are…you don't deserve…it…being told the things I said…I don't know…why…I said the-mmm.” Bellamy hung his head, “My head hurts. I'm. Just going to…stay here. You don't have to, though. I know you want to get out of here…away from me. I understand. You should get away from me.” He closed is eyes again, twitching, his body jerking a little bit, “I've been horrible…company.”

It was dark, he was a small child again. Running by trees, under a pitch-dark sky. A moon that seemed to be the only light, casting down at him. Dark smears had appeared over his face, his arms, his clothing. Blood from somewhere, maybe even himself. Tears streaked down his face as he turned, looking back. Seeing dark figures scattering and running after him. They were hunting him. Tripping, he hit the ground harshly. Earning a few more scraps on rocks or tree roots. Crawling quickly, he made his way to a bush. A moment later, a dark figure shouted as they ran quickly past him. Holding his legs close to his chest, he muttered about this all being some nightmare. That his parents weren't gone, and he was having some kind of nightmare. Dropping his head into his knees, he repeated this musing.

It rose to it's feet. Hanging Bellamy's head to one side at Baz. Then looked away, looking itself over, examining Bellamy's hands, something dark in them that did not go with the rest of his body, “Wouldn't it be funny if a monster was out there somewhere? I would really like to fight something.” It announced, smirking a little before bouncing Bellamy's body on his feet in a childish way. Dropping Bellamy's arms down for a moment before beginning to twist, swaying Bellamy's arms gently, almost elegantly, around him, then continued, “This maze is so boring. All we do is walk around it! AAAaaaahhh!” It groaned, staring at Baz, who clearly wouldn't fight it, and was clearly wanting to find the nearest way out of here, away from them. Begrudgingly, it knew it would need to leave the maze, to find something to fight and play with. Skipping down the path, it moved it's arms back and forth as it did this, “Hopefully this leads to the exit.” It twirled Bellamy's left hand, making a dissatisfied face. It points its arms up, walking backward, facing Baz once more. The sleeves of Bellamy's long-sleeve shirt hung over his fingers. It grinned, “We should play a game! Do you know -” It searched Bellamy's mind, for games to play, “I spy?” It paused, then said, “I'll start. I spy, with my little eye............. Something green!”

—

All Baz had ever really wanted from the world was to be known. All they’d ever really desired was to be understood. They wanted people to see them as something worth seeing, wanted people to think of them as a person, at the very least. That was why, they figured, they had such a bad reaction to being misunderstood. They disliked the way Bellamy seemed to want to assign them a persona that they didn’t fit into, disliked being known so poorly that it became something worse than not being known at all.

They opened their mouth, ready to tell Bellamy to sod off and find his own way out of the bloody maze even if Baz had no real desire to trek on alone. They’d never really known someone so unpleasant to be around that their company was worse than being alone, but Bellamy seemed to be intent on earning such a title. Except… something was wrong. Bellamy was stumbling, his eyelids were fluttering, he was murmuring like someone in the midst of a spiking fever. Perhaps it was unkind to judge him based on things said when he was in a sorry state. Perhaps this was not who Bellamy was at all, even if this behavior — assuming he knew Baz better than Baz knew themself, despite having had so few real conversations with them —- was not a new phenomenon.

“Hey, mate, are you…” Baz hesitated. They were probably making a fool of themself here. They were trying to check in on someone who did not like them, someone they didn’t like, either. They weren’t even entirely sure why. Perhaps it was the loneliness of it all, the fact that if they left Bellamy here, they would be on their own, too. It was easy enough to think that being alone was better than being in Bellamy’s company, but more difficult to actually set off on their own. If not for the emptiness of the maze, or the way they’d already gotten turned around so many times, they probably would have walked away. It would not have mattered that leaving Bellamy might put him in danger, would not have mattered that he was having some sort of medical episode. If Baz could have walked away and simply gone home, they liked to think they would have done it. But that wasn’t an option here, and so they approached Bellamy with a careful concern instead.

He wasn’t making much sense, talking in mad murmurs that seemed to add water to the fever theory. “You’re not well,” Baz told him, not getting close enough to touch him but not moving away, either. He still made them uncomfortable, the way he twisted and turned with such unpredictability, going from one extreme to the next without blinking. It made them feel uncomfortable, the weighty ‘not knowing’ that came along with it. There might have been something exciting about not knowing which version of Bellamy they’d get if one of the two versions didn’t make them so profoundly uncomfortable. “Look, let’s get you out of here, yeah? Then we can both sod off in different directions, and you can go find a doctor.” Because he clearly needed one, even if he didn’t seem to think he did.

But before they could help Bellamy to his feet, the other version of him was back and with it, the discomfort. At least he seemed keen to find an exit, something Baz figured they could agree on. “We’re in a hedge maze,” they pointed out. “Everything’s green.” Everything, that was, except a flash of something bright and yellow ahead of them. Curiously, Baz moved towards it. Was that… the exit? Finally? Relief surged. “Think we ought to go this way.”

—

Bellamy stares at Baz, not sure if he could take them seriously. He already knew the other didn't care about anything, let alone-no, least of all him. He had seen that at the aquarium. This fake nonsense show that the other was putting on now only made it more prevalent. Now they cared? Give him a break. He sighed, wincing a bit as he struggled with the fit of rageful emotions that were overtaking him. Twitching slightly, rabidly, for a moment, his mind spacing as he tried to remain present. Shaking his head, Bellamy hissed, “Don't fucking come near me! Don't come near me!” He hissed. The goo prickled beneath his skin, poking into his flesh, feeding that thought.

It turned, staring at Baz when they spoke of his not being well, “And you are?” It laughed, pointing Bellamy's sleeve-covered right hand toward them, his left sleeve-covered right hand moving to cover Bellamy's mouth as it giggled into it. This was quite pathetic, how Baz deflected so often, especially onto Bellamy, it supposed, “You sure do enjoy throwing accusations around for someone who gets fucking pissy about it being done to you.” It was true, in a sense. But, It still figured Baz was quite way off, personally. Bright purple glows in Bellamy's eyes for a moment as It stares Baz down. No. It had grown bored with this creature, whatever it was, sniffing at the air toward Baz, it shook it's head. Still stinky, sure. Amusing, sure. But quite boring, it seemed to like to defend itself, but then do exactly what it said it didn't do, often. Another giggle, it looked away, “You're quite the mystery and perplexities. But I'm growing very booored with this whole thing.” Waving it's right hand in a circular motion, it flapped the sleeve toward Baz, “You- acting sweet, to ..me…but you're not.”

Twirling away then, it skipped along the path some more, “You're not. You're not. You're not! You're a monster! Cruel. Evil. Wicked. Just like anyone of them.” Stopping it from hopping in place, childish, turning, “Just like any of us. You abandoned me at the tank, when I was sick, then, too.” Pretending to still be Bellamy, in part, it smirked, “Yet, now you stay. Only because it is obligatory? No. Hm. Still. If you had an out, you would take it, and leave me here. Just. Like. Then. But here you protest, oh. You're nothing like I've claimed.” Turning it hopped again, moving forward into another skip, waving Bellamy's arms lightly, “You'll lie though. 'Oh. I want to help you.'. No. You'll leave the moment we're out. Perpetrating the same cruelty. Yet, you stare at me, like it's me that would be the problem, I [As in Bellamy, it spoke of] would never leave anyone behind. [It thought this was pathetic, too]. So disdainfully. You broke it. It's not me to fix it. So go! I don't need you!” Twirling away, again, It stopped, holding out a hand toward the bright light. “Go. It's what you wanted. Right? I'll let you free.” Then It took off back into the maze again, skipping into the darkness once more, giggling louder, more maniacal, just for Baz to hear.

—

They drew back as Bellamy hissed at them, uncertainty clinging to them like a second skin. Concern curdled into something less kind in their chest as Bellamy went on and on, rejecting their well-meaning statements and twisting them into insults. What was the point, they wondered, in trying to help someone who spat insults at you the entire time? What was the point in worrying over someone who had clearly already made up their mind as to who and what you were? Baz had plenty of people in town who knew what sort of person they were, had Jenny and Joel and Rosemary and Molly and others, too. It shouldn’t have mattered an ounce what Bellamy thought.

(It did anyway, of course. It mattered what everyone thought. Baz didn’t know how to stop it.)

“It’s not cruel to not stand around and allow someone to insult you,” the doppelganger replied, carefully erasing the concern from their tone. If Bellamy didn’t want their worry, they would not provide it. They weren’t the sort to stand around and allow themself to be insulted by someone who had clearly already decided what they thought of them, either. Loneliness wasn’t the sort of thing Baz enjoyed, but with the exit of the maze in sight, it was no longer something they needed to contend with. They would exit the maze, they would go home, and they would forget what Bellamy said about them because it was not worth remembering.

They moved towards the exit, pausing momentarily. “If you keep treating people like shite, you’re going to end up on your own,” they said. But Bellamy was already running back into the maze, and Baz had no desire to follow him. They left instead, figuring Bellamy could find his own way out a second time. And if he couldn’t… well, it had certainly stopped being Baz’s problem, hadn’t it?

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