UMinoris

Hector sat on a chair by a boarded-up window, staring at the sunlight that slipped through the cracks. Dust danced in the beams, rising and falling when his tail swished lazily in thought. He couldn’t stop watching the speckles in the air. Something about the way it floated reminded him of the ‘end’ screens in Smileyland, the way things dissolved, flickering in and out of place before they were disconnected.

Kind of like… static. In a weird way.

I'm still in the real world, right?

He shook his head, rubbing his temples with rough, cut up fingers. No idiot, it’s just dust. Not static. You're real, not imaginary.

This house–“house”-- was an old abandoned place somewhere on the outskirts of Too Cute City. Despite the flowery name, the city was anything but cute and whimsical. It was a concrete jungle where survival wasn't guaranteed. Governed by racial and species hierarchy with money being the voting sway.

Not to mention the underground Marché Noir, where drug and human trafficking rings were secretly being run. Which is where he recently escaped from after a rescue he doesn't even remember.

The 14-year-old rakes his claws through his long and tattered auburn hair, staring blankly at the ceiling. He was wearing some slightly ripped jeans and a deep red t-shirt. Something he snagged from a donation bin. His garnet eyes drift to his only friend who made it out with him.

Not by her choice though.

To his right, Kaeloo hummed and swayed with whatever tune she had in her head. She was curled on the patched up couch (it was there when they got there, he swears) dressed in an oversized hunter green sweater (another snag from a donation bin) with her legs tucked beneath her, scribbling on scraps of paper with a blunt crayon she’d found in a drawer. She drew crooked flowers, the smiling sun, and blobs that looked like (well, to her) her anthropomorphic friends.

She was older than him by at least a year, but with her fragile mental state, she may as well have been a damned child.

“You’re quiet, Mr. Cat.” she finally said without looking up.

Hector blinked, almost instinctively responding to the nickname he was programmed to answer to. His throat felt dry. “…Just thinking.”

Kaeloo tilted her head, eyes still fixed on the page. “About the game? The Staring at the Wooden Boards game?”

Hector’s jaw tightened, his ears twitched.

“There is no game, Kaeloo.” His voice came out flatter than he intended, roughened by exhaustion and days of swallowed panic and sleep deprivation. “There’s no points, no resets, no magical fix for when things go wrong.” He slouches over in the chair, his arms resting on his knees. “This is real life now.”

Kaeloo blinked slowly, still coloring. “But games can be real.” she brightens up and looks at him. “They are real!”

“No.” His tail lashed against the dusty floorboards. “No, they can’t. The only ‘games’ you know of only existed in Smileyland.” He shoots her down, as he's all too used to. “Smileyland wasn’t real. They made it up to keep us sane.”

The crayon paused in her fingers. She stares at him, as if trying to piece together what he was saying. Eventually, she looks back down at her drawing and says, “Well, I think if we believe hard enough, we can make those games real!”

Somewhere deeper in the house, pipes groaned softly in the walls. Hector rubbed his temples again, trying to keep his thoughts from spiraling. It was failing, by the way. He could feel his grip on his frustration getting looser.

“Kaeloo, that wasn't real.” He states again, using his hands to enunciate and emphasize his point. “The same rules don't apply here as they did in the simulation.”

Kaeloo pauses, furrows her brow, and shakes her head. “But you were there, Mr. Cat.”

“So were you,” Hector muttered. “Doesn’t make it real.”

Bless her, she really is trying to piece it together in her fractured psyche.

“If we aren't in Smileyland, then… where are we? What are we?”

“We're in the real world.” Hector says with a sigh. He has answered this question from her so many times since their escape. Almost every day, it's questions about ‘where are we’ or ‘how did we get here'. He's… quite honestly, sick of it. “We’re people,” he finally continued. “We’re experimented on, screwed up people trying not to die.”

Kaeloo looked up at him and frowned. “You sound scared, Mr. Cat.”

His ears flattened against his skull. “I’m not scared.”

“You are!” She tapped her temple lightly with the crayon. “Your thoughts always get bad when you're scared, Mr. Cat.”

Which… she's right. He's had many nightmares over it, confided to her in them. He's surprised she even remembers his anxiety.

“Well maybe I should be scared, Kaeloo!” Damn it, he didn't want to sound like a dick about it.

He stood, anxiously pacing across the room with restless energy, claws clicking against old hardwood floors. “We’re living in some abandoned house with no food, no money, no clue what we’re doing!” he snapped. “I’m stealing canned crap just to keep us fed, and if anyone finds out where we are—”

“They won’t.” Kaeloo tries to speak, sounding unreasonably calm.

It only pisses him off more. “They will, Kaeloo!” he raises his voice, turning to her. “You think those people just forget about us?! You think the Marché Noir lets people just walk away?!”

Kaeloo slowly set the broken crayon aside and stood up from the couch. She slowly approaches him, reaching out to take his hand in, what's supposed to be a comforting gesture.

“And what if they just do?” she asked quietly. “What if they come and find us?”

Hector stared at her, dumbfounded by her thought process. It halts his anxiety to a brick wall and he stammers, “What?”

Her eyes stared at their hands, her fingers interlocking, his unmoved. The light catches her short green hair in a way that would leave Hector breathless if he wasn't in the middle of an anxiety attack.

“Mr. Cat,” Her voice is clear and not dreamy or like she's in an unfocused state. She's speaking like… like she did in Smileyland. Clear and… positive? “If you think everything’s horrible and hopeless, then what’s the point of staying alive?”

Hector is having a hard time following her train of thought and he repeats himself. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you already gave up!” Kaeloo states plainly, her other hand holding the same one her left is grasping. “You keep saying everything is horrible and hopeless and awful, but if that’s true then why are we even trying?” She smiles. “You have to have hope, Mr. Cat!”

Hector tries to keep his mind from fraying, but the flashbacks are resurfacing. The positivity, her upbeat “glass half full” outlook… It's how she was written to be in Smileyland. But… but she's real. Kaeloo is standing in front of him, but why is she, how can she…

Kaeloo’s thumb strokes Hector's hand, inspecting the bruises and cuts from his skin picking. She's completely unaware of the mental anguish going on within the person in front of her.

“Maybe if we could just go back…” she whispered, her eyes focused on his hand. Surprisingly, she didn't notice how his fingers were trembling. “Maybe if we went back to Smileyland, things could be happy again.”

Back… to the lab…

Hector’s face hardened instantly.

“You were happier there, Mr. Cat,” she said softly, reminiscing. “I liked seeing you smile.”

Something… ugly twisted in his chest. Exhaustion. Fear. Guilt. Rage. All of it crashing together until he couldn’t separate one feeling from another anymore.

He can't go back. He can't!

I CAN'T GO BACK!

“I'm NOT going back! You can't make me!" He shouted, his anxiety attack reaching its peak. He yanks his hand away from her, and, before he can realize it, his free hand flies through the air and collides with Kaeloo's cheek.

She gasps and chokes out a whimper ass she hits the floor hard, one hand flying to her cheek. The dust on the floor scatters under her, dancing in the sun as Hector’s fingers clench.

He stood frozen, breathing hard. Keep it together! You're not mad at her, you're mad at the lab, the people, the world–

But the dam had already cracked. And all of the frustration he was holding back began to spill out.

“I’m so sick of this!” he shouted, voice shaking. “Your stupid fantasy-land bullshit—none of it was REAL, Kaeloo!” He stomps his foot as he speaks, trying desperately to get her to hear him.

She didn’t move. Her ruby eyes are focused on his face. It's... uncanny, but he hopes to whatever god is out there that he's getting through.

“You keep talking like we can just go back there like everything’ll magically be okay again!” His claws dug into his palms. “I should’ve never helped you escape if this is all you were gonna do!” He turns away, grabbing his hair before punching a wall with a shout. “I might as well be losing my damn mind too!”

Kaeloo began to breathe quickly, frightened by his anger. She wasn't used to this. She was used to the cartoon way he would show his anger. Pulling out a rocket launcher, a chainsaw… something silly.

But this feels… uncomfortable. Very… not good and…

“You’re nothing like the frog from Smileyland!” Hector barked. “That girl, boy, whatever- wasn’t real!” he turns to face her again, standing over her and throwing his arms out. “SMILEYLAND. WASN'T. REAL!”

The second the words left his mouth, something in the room changed. The air was heavy and horribly tense. He was breathing heavily, hands shaking, tail swishing violently.

It isn't real… but if Smileyland wasn't real, then…

Kaeloo couldn't deal with that fact. Her fingers dug into her hair, nails scraping against her scalp as if she were trying to hold herself together physically. She grit her teeth, screwing her eyes shut.

If Smileyland isn't real, then neither were her friends.

Her life.

Her family.

The last five years of her life.

Kaeloo cried out, slouching forward on her knees, screaming into the hardwood. Her mind is being pulled in two different directions: Hector's views and Smileyland. And she can't…

Hector’s ears pinned back and he tried to reach out to her. “Kaeloo! Don't scream! They'll find us!” He tries to grab her shoulders, but the instant he touches her, a snarl rips from her throat.

Kaeloo launches herself at him, tackling him to the floor. Hector barely had time to react before his back slammed into the wood, the impact knocking the air from his lungs.

“Kaeloo—!” he coughs out, bearing his fangs. He dodges a (quite impressive) punch that misses his face and hits the wood, stunning her for a second. “Stop!” His claws scrape her wrist and he twists her over, toppling her on her back and pinning her hands over her head as he rolls on top of her. “What the hell do you think you're doing?!”

When he sees her eyes, he can see that Kaeloo, the timid, mind-broken girl he escaped the lab with, was not there. Her bright ruby eyes were dull and her normally soft facial features were more sharp and… angry. It made him pause and loosen his grip on her for just a second.

And that second was all Kaeloo needed.

Pulling her right leg up, she kicks him as hard as she can in his stomach, forcing him off of her. As Hector recoils and tries to get himself together, Kaeloo leaps at the opportunity and throws him to the ground with an impressive amount of force. The girl pinning him down was so different from before. There was no hesitation; just this raw animalistic panic and fury.

“Kae, stop!” Hector coughs out, trying to grab her hands to get her under control.

Her fingers suddenly locked around his throat, and next thing he knows, he's struggling to breathe.

Hector chokes as she slammed him back against the floorboards, her grip tightening with terrifying strength. Her face hovered inches above his now, green bangs falling in front of her face, expression twisted with rage and grief so intense it barely looked human anymore. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks, but she didn’t seem aware of them.

Then, through broken breaths and snarling gasps, words finally forced themselves out. “Kaeloo never ask for this!” Her grip trembled, slowly loosening but not by much. “Kaeloo not stupid!”

Hector’s eyes widened as she spoke. He's never heard her speak like this. This voice didn’t sound like her. The speech was jagged and fragmented, like someone unsure of how to speak but trying desperately to.

“Kaeloo try hard!” she cried, almost screaming now. “Try hard all the time!” Her hands shook harder around his throat. Hector could feel tears hitting his face as she glared down at him with pure wounded fury.

He reaches out touch her, anywhere, trying to get her to let go so that he can breathe. Thankfully, he’s able to lightly but unintentionally brush her cheek with his claws and it leads to her fingers loosening.

It's like a light switch. She's furious and full of grief one second, and the next she's back to this innocent, childlike state.

“Kaeloo try hard! I… I try so hard…” her breaths shudder as her growling stops and her voice returns to a small tremble.

“K-Kaeloo…” he chokes out, grabbing her wrists.

Her eyes snap open and she blinks a few times. She stares down at him as though she’d only just realized where she was and what she was doing. Her hands quickly pull away from his neck.

Hector sucked in air violently, coughing hard as Kaeloo scrambled backward across the floorboards.

“Oh no… no no no… why?! Why?!” She curled inward immediately, arms wrapped tightly around herself. “No more… I thought, I was, I….” she grabs at the sides of her head, pulling at her hair. Confusion and fear wrecks her form, and she continues to cry.

The room felt unbearably still. Still, scary, heavy…

Hector took a second to recover. His insides were on fire from being kicked, his neck was definitely going to bruise, and he can't even imagine how his back will look. He rubs at his throat, stunned speechless as he watches her tremble.

Kaeloo’s soft crying filled the room. It was her… typical sobbing. Like a traumatized child.

And the guilt begins to settle in his already bruised gut.

Hector sat where he’d fallen, one hand clutched weakly around his throat as he struggled to breathe normally again. Every inhale burned and he could still feel the pain of her fingers around his neck.

His gaze stayed fixed on Kaeloo curled up on herself, trying to make herself small enough to disappear.

And slowly, horribly, the adrenaline began to drain which left the heavy, suffocating guilt in place.

Hector squeezed his eyes shut for a second, swallowing hard against the ache in his chest.

I… hit her.

The thought made him feel sick.

He could still hear and feel the crack of his hand against her face, the way she’d looked up at him afterward with stunned, empty eyes. Like he’d shattered something delicate inside of her.

And… for what?

Because she couldn’t understand reality the way he did?

That isn't her fault, it's the lab. The Marché Noir for putting them into that stupid experiment for five years.

His claws dug weakly into the floorboards the more the guilt ate at him.

Kaeloo can't process things the way he could. Even now, after escaping, her mind bent reality into something strange and familiar just to survive it. Smileyland to her wasn't a fake world, she actually believed it was real.

For a moment, he wondered if maybe he was wrong about his whole beliefs. If living in Smileyland would be better than living in reality.

Hector’s throat tightened painfully. Man, that really hurt. He hasn't felt that kind of pain since…

The toad from Smileyland. Bad K.

The other part of her. A frightened, wounded piece of her mind trying to protect what was left.

Kaeloo had been pushed so far she’d split herself apart just to survive, and he’d stood there screaming at her to “snap out of it” like she had any control over what was happening inside her own head.

Hector slid his hand down his face. He felt disgusting.

Slowly, carefully, he pushed himself onto his knees, crawling towards her. Kaeloo flinched immediately at the sound of the floor creaking, curling tighter into herself.

Seeing her scared of him made the guilt worse.

“Kaeloo…” His voice cracked badly. He paused to steady his breathing again before continuing softer, “Hey. Hey, it’s okay.”

She didn’t answer.

Hector cautiously knelt in front of her, giving her enough space to pull away if she wanted. But after a moment, he reached forward, wrapping both arms tightly around her trembling body.

At first she went rigid in his arms, then broke.

Kaeloo buried her face against his chest with a small, scared sound as her shaking worsened. Hector held her tighter immediately, one hand moving instinctively into her hair while the other pressed securely between her shoulder blades.

“It’s okay,” he whispered again, though his own voice sounded unsteady. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Kaeloo.”

Her fingers slowly twisted into the fabric of his shirt. “I'm sorry, Mr. Cat.”