Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

« You should leave » a small voice echoed.

There was a boy, crumpled in on himself, hugging his knees to his chest. His eyes were sunken in their sockets, glazed over as if staring somewhere far away. They snapped in Tim’s direction, the sudden clarity piercing him like needles on his exposed skin.

The boy’s hair was a stark shinning white, and like the snow outside, his existence alone silenced all surrounding sound. The creaks and groans of the house’s old bones finding cool relief in his presence.

Tim coughed, wincing at the intrusiveness of the noise. It felt like an incursion, a violation. Like the sullying of an undisturbed grave.
The boy stood up, the sound of shifting fabric from the worn torn fabric of his oversized clothes that hung loosely off his small frame. Occasionally, he seemed to flicker—into a taller, fuller version of himself—for barely a second. Doubting his own mind, Tim raised his hands to rub at his eyes. The boy before him tilted his head at this and smiled, a weary tired smile, one filled with the unexpected joy of mild amusement.

He motioned at Tim to follow, flickering again as he turned to walk away. Tim’s feet moved on their own accord, padding silently behind the younger boy as he followed. As if a spell had been broken, the silence shattered and the groaning of the house returned. 

Chapter Text

« It’s been a long time since someone has seen me »

The flickering boy smiled sadly, mind stuck reminiscing in the distant past. He pulled his legs onto the couch, repeating his position from earlier. It was cold, but that was not what made him shiver.

“What happened here?” Tim’s voice was hoarse from disuse. It echoed differently from the boy’s, similar but distinctive. Shivers ran down his spine when the presence’s attention turned back to him. His sharp canines caught Tim’s eye when he answered.

« That’s the only important question, isn’t it? »

The corners of his eyes didn’t quite crinkle with the upward tilt of his lips. His tone was lemon sour and his tongue lime green. Fractals of ice spread across the windows behind him, the cold aura of a frosty halo shining down around him.

« I like to think it was the only thing that could’ve happened. That the price for my mistakes wasn’t so high. »

The boy flickered. He was older now, around Tim’s age. The crinkle of his hazmat suit when he moved reminded him of the sound of cracking sheets of ice.

« I- » he flickered back, his young face marred with an emotion too old for it. « I can’t al-, there are…gaps. »

Tim waited patiently. He took a step forward, the old floorboards whining under his weight. The presence was snuffed out like a candle, appearing in front of worn cement stairs leading down into the dark. He burned brighter against the inky chasm, looking back at Tim before beginning his descent.