Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sometimes you feel so much anger.

Anger that seeps into your bones and sinks its claws around it and into your flesh, so hard it pulls it taut, a wonder it does not draw blood, if that's even a thing you have anymore. It’s a boiling, searing thing at the low pits of your belly (another thing you might not have another thing you might or might not have who knows at this point ahaha does it even does it even even matter anymore no it does not what matter is that it's) ready to burst at any time. It stays, and it stayed like this for a long, long time, a thing you so lovely crafted, kept chained for so long, until it came to this point where it’s travelling up to your throat where you will gurgle you will choke and as you lay there breathless throat raw and scratchy only then it will finally spill, a lightless sickness that would drench the earth and corrupt everything it touches, much as you do.

It’s an anger that pulses from inside you. The only thing that makes your battered heart shine. It’s an anger that you’ve been holding onto for so, so, so long.

You can only hold for so long.

You...

don’t...

want...

to hold it anymore.

Sometimes you want to reach into yourself and

tear

it

all

apart

but that isn’t feasible and you don’t think you hate this iteration of yourself that much to actually go through with the idea, instead you’re reaching into something so different yet so familiar, flesh that does not sizzle or twinkle or glow or feel oh so cold into your hands, no no it feels different instead, there–

there is

a beat

a beat of a heart pulsing so quickly it might as well burst from inside its cage, like it damn well should, burst away as a supernova and engulf you and him and the city and the entire world destroy everything everything you’ve ever known everything you’ve ever been but instead what it does is beat rapidly quickly, thrumming with something so visceral, a determination, a fear, adrenaline, a knowing of what you could very well do if you wanted.

...

Do you want to?

What you feel isn’t cold unnatural skin, it is flesh that beats and is warm, what that heart beating underneath your hands and those lightless eyes that tremble with so much fear tell you while you spew out your anger into words the only emotion and the only catharsis this husk of a body that you are can feel, only ever two emotions, anger and euphoria anger and mania anger and anger so much anger is that the owner of a heart that should be yours feels fear is that it is real is that it is so familiar because.

It’s you. It’s you.

(it’s always been you)

And the anger you feel… it… it is…

You don’t understand.

Your hands between his neck, squeezing, halts to a sudden stop, the words spewing from your mouth stops, and suddenly you feel

nothing

at all

No. That isn’t right.

It makes no sense. It makes no sense. This, all of this, it was– a product of your wish. You wished for this. You, a version of you, worked so hard. You worked so hard! You endured! You cried and screamed and fought the King felt pain felt happiness died in blood and stars so many times, remembered your lines until they held no meaning, repeated many times so many times that it got its meaning back again until it didn’t, you broke and then even after everything you worked so hard to keep this ugly disgusting anger you held secure into yourself you helped you did it so didn’t you deserve this ending, too? Wasn't it supposed to be yours? It’s yours it should be yours it should be yours it should be yours it should be yours

so… why…

Why then…

You stop moving.

“No, I can’t…” you know you should say something. The anger inside of you is instead swirling, swirling into something morphing into something else in a familiar and unfamiliar way, it is overwhelming. Your hands tremble now, and suddenly you can’t bear anymore to be touching Stardust as he stares at you with a mix of fear wonder and confusion, eyes that trembled now wide, an emotion you think it is probably mirroring into you because oh doesn’t everything feel too much right now don’t you want to run this is too much “I can’t do this.”

A simple statement. Ugly in its truth.

You can’t do this. You never could do much, could you? No. Yet another statement of your utter incompetence. Isn’t that funny!

“Not when I had to see you fight so hard…!!” the words come hesitant they come raw but they spill out. Something snapped inside of you and you’re ready to scream but instead all you utter is a string of “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t” over and over and over, enough so that it becomes real and maybe etches into your stupid blinding failing brain the reason why it is that you can’t.

When did this happen?

“Why…” why did this happen? “Why did it have to be you?” you can’t stand to look at them. You do anyway. “I could’ve…” done so many things. The answer was so simple, always in front of you, yet you refused to see it, because maybe you’ve always known it would be your salvation “I wanted to…” stay with them, never let them go, even if that meant dying over and over and over again just to hear their voices again “If only back then, I…” realized how simple it was, “If I had held on longer…” no, no, not that, not that, “Maybe then.”

You can’t talk anymore. Something ugly wells up your throat and you let out a ugly sob, your hands let go of a body that should be yours but somewhere along the way could no longer think of yourself and you can’t look at your Stardust anymore. It hurts. It hurts.

It hurts. It could never be yours. It's real. You wish it wasn't.

and isn't it so funny isn’t it so hilarious isn’t it perfect--

What a joke. Oh, what a joke you turned out to be, a comedy, an entire play enjoyed by universe and change god alike, oh how you wish you could raise your battered and bloody body away from that touch and take a bow, laugh your star-heart out and yell something at the skies and the entire universe, to ask it did you enjoy it? was it entertaining? did you do a good job at being a cosmic joke? and then laugh again and then scream and then perhaps ask what in the cosmos is wrong with you why did it think you deserved this, all you wanted was so simple, all you did was care so much you exploded and could not care anymore and then the universe forgot to redo something in you, didn’t carve out your heart entirely because it was still there, and you still cared, you still loved, all you wanted was this, all you wanted was something you could never have and even if you did it would never be real, would it, would it really, no, no, what a joke you are, aren’t you, can’t even do this right, you

you wish you would just disappear.

But you don’t. A touch makes you jolt, suddenly, you open your eyes, all blurry, and Stardust is there, looking up at you with a expression that for the first time you can’t make out

He opens his mouth

“But don’t you get it?”

“What is there to get?” nothing, nothing, there is nothing, there was always nothing, you’re made of nothing, you want to be nothing, you want to run, you want to die, you want to be out of here you want to disappear

“Uh, the reason I succeed, maybe?”

…What?

“What…?” Your words sound so pathetic, so teary, and as you blink away to look at Stardust (who still hasn't let go of you you feel the touch still, poignant, might as well burn you away, you want to pull back you want him to stop you want him to–

then finally,

finally,

finally it makes sense,

“It’s thanks to you, Loop!”

He’s stupid.

“What…?” eloquence is your name now. You want to laugh. You can’t.

“Without you, I would’ve given up” What sort of nonsense is this? Hasn’t the universe had enough? You knew Stardust was always a little stupid (because you are), a little wrong in the head, but to this point? ahaha. Ahaha. “You were here, at my side, telling me to keep going.” No, no, no, you want to scream again. That was your job. You only did it because you had to, because the universe forced you to, because that way they’d like you more “Yeah, you didn’t tell me everything,” because you wanted to see him suffer a little bit, “yeah, you didn’t know what to do…” you did, you did, you always did and you got into this mess precisely because you did and you didn’t wanna accept it “But just knowing that I wasn't alone” you didn’t want to be alone in your suffering you wanted him to bleed just as you had “that you were here…” you wish you weren’t this wasn’t what you meant, this–

can’t be real.

“You’re lying,” he has to be.

“Not.”

“YOU’RE LYING!!!” he has to be he has to be he has to be

“Not!”

how can they say that how can they be this cruel this selfish why are they doing this he can’t say it if they say it then it means it’s real and it isn’t real it isn’t it isn’t it isn’t

“YOU’RE–”

but he interrupts you, a look so determined that you want to cry all over again blurry your eye until you’re back to not seeing them, and then,

a touch. A little thing. A squeeze of your arms resting now at his sides that j o l t s you

“Loop.” he should stop. You want him to stop. You look at him regardless. “Mira sends her thanks, by the way.” Stop talking, stop talking, “They all do.”

Thanks? To… you…?

Stardust laughs. It almost makes you want to join him, too.

“Who else helped them get all the way back to the king?” He doesn’t get it. But, but, but, damn it all if he doesn’t look so genuine when he says it, “They told me to say thank you, for bringing them to me,” but you wanted it to be you, you wanted them to… to… “For saving me.”

“See?” Stardust continues, because something in the way your shoulders sagged must’ve told them something it wasn’t there. Something that you wanted to be. That you want to be believe in, just as you believe it is in your Stardust.

It… It hurts. It hurts.

A sob is wrenched out of you again.

“Stardust…” you choke out, “Why couldn’t it be me?”

And he looks so sad, for a moment. Truly sad.

You don’t deserve it.

“I don’t know. Maybe it was in the script,” ... “Maybe it was what the Universe wanted. Or… maybe…” No, no, don’t say it. “Or maybe it’s no one’s fault.”

…

“I’m sorry, Siffrin.” the name hurts “And… thank you, Loop.” He needs to stop talking. You need to stop sobbing. You need to say something. “Without you, I would’ve given up a long time ago.” You don’t want to hear it. You don’t want to feel the squeeze he gives you again. “Thank you for helping me, this whole time.”

You don’t deserve it.

He…

…does.

But. But. There is… something, still. A familiar feeling. You’re… tired. Of all of this.

“Loop, we can–”

“Siffrin.”

He flinches, can’t even blame him.

You’re tired of it all.

“...Please.” You plead. It’s all you can do. “You’re going to… have to talk to them, from now on.” You’re tired. Stardust looks at you, confusion, wonder, so many feelings you no longer have. “No more keeping how you feel from them. We both know where this leads.” And if you could, you’d be even more disgusting and take delight in the minute crease of his brow that expresses the displeasure at the idea. You’re tired. “And if… if… one day, no matter what you do, everyone’s paths and yours diverge…” You’re tired. “You’ll have to learn to be okay with it.” You’re tired. “We can’t… We can’t do this anymore.” You’re tired. “Hold them hostage, against their knowledge, against their will, just because we’re lonely” you’re t i r e d “Learning to talk to them… learning to let go…” you’re tired. “It’ll be hard” you don’t want to do it “It’ll feel impossible” it is but– you’re tired and Siffrin’s still staring at you, slow to realize what is it that this is leading to, hah, always slow, but you suppose thats okay, because fuck if you know what you’re saying, hahaha!

all you know.. is that you need to. It’s real. It hurts. And… he deserves the last real thing you have.

“You might think you’d rather die than share how you feel. After all, isn’t bottling things up the reason you managed to break the loops?” Again, displeasure, pain, the touch in your arm trembles and loses force and you do not think about it, “You didn’t have to tell them anything until the very end, and it turned out fine, didn’t it?” You don’t think about it.

“But…” Stardust tries. “But if I talked to them earlier, then maybe…”

You laugh. “Yeah, dummy. If only you had been strong enough to talk to them, maybe this whole story wouldn’t have happened at all. If only…” you’re tired. You don’t want to think about it. You don’t want to think about anything, at all. “Oh well. It doesn’t matter now.”

You breathe in, and out. There has been something else happening, to which your Stardust finally, finally realizes.

It’s a different touch, this one, a thing you vaguely remember. You think it’s the universe touching you, reclaiming you because your wish was fulfilled finally, hadn’t it? You helped, had your own tantrum, and then realized what you should have realized, good job, Loop! aren't you smart, Loop? What use could it have for you, now? You’re not Siffrin. That’s a name you willingly threw away. No, you’re Loop, and you’re tired.

And then, finally, finally, you allow yourself to feel something else– relief. You can rest. You can go. Stop thinking, join the stars, maybe. that’d be nice, huh?

After all… this is Siffrin’s perfect ending.

“Loop?”

you close your eyes.

and…

let

go

Chapter Text

…

…

……

…..?

…….?

“...Loop?”

His voice cuts through your momentary bliss. You ignore it.

“Loop”, you definitely ignore it. Nuh-uh. Not doing this.

“LooooOoooooOp” Stars. Isn’t he annoying.

“What.” Oh. 

…Oh!

Oh.

Oh no. No no no no no no no no

“...Can you please get up? You’re heavy. And in my space.”

“Not now, I’m trying to disappear ” stars why aren’t you GONE already? Why, why? “...Or not, I guess. Teehee!”

…Haha.

Well.

The universe demands more.

What else can you do, but follow?

…You… look at him.

“Why am I still here.”

Stardust blinks.

“Uh. I don’t… know?”

…

He…

He doesn’t know? 

He doesn’t know.

HE DOESN’T KNOW?

“Did you do something?” Oh this is grand. He looks terrified. “Did you do this?” Good, he should.

“No?” Panicking. You’re both panicking. You, a little more, possibly, maybe. Oh, you want to strangle him all over again. But! How funny! You’re not! you’re hyperventilating instead! Nice! Good! Amazing! “I didn’t…”

…

You can’t have anything. You should’ve known.

The universe isn’t done with you, is it? No, no, it must think this is funny. That the show must go on. That you can't have closure unless you do it yourself–

“Breathe with me?” 

…

Whatever.

He takes in a breath.

You follow.

He exhales.

You exhale.

“...Better?”

“What do you think?” It’s easy to slip back into the cheery persona, that fake thing you have. If Stardust was a little smarter, maybe he’d get the seething rage you’re feeling, the only thing you can possibly feel anymore. Dimmer. Ever present.

Haha.

Stardust narrows his eyes. You smile.

“...Okay. Now can you get up?”

…You do so. And do not think about what you were just doing, because, oh, oooh nooo.

Ow. Ow ow. Your knees hurt. Shouldn’t have stayed in the same position for too long. Haha. Oh no. Oh this sucks.

You opt to watch Stardust instead, he’s awkwardly moving to sit. You do the same, and you kinda want him to leave maybe so that then you can fucking end this already yourself, you should have the power to, maybe, probably, you don't think you have Craft Exhaustion as Stardust does, a very well placed attack to your throat should settle this, you think. You have experience, after all, but ah, ah, well, you’re thinking again, and what is it with thinking again, stupid? Shouldn’t.

…Does it matter?

“So…” Stardust says something. He’s speaking. Ah. “What was that about disappearing?” Ah. No. You don’t want to think about this anymore. It might… Ugh. But. He’s looking at you. Expecting an answer. And damn it all the very least you could do after all that is not leave him with another trauma of seeing you slice yourself one last time. Let them leave with some happy memories, probably. You can be decent for five minutes, can’t you? …Yeah. Yeah.

“What should have happened.”

“...What do you mean?”

Since when were you so blinding annoying? Can’t he shut up. Please. 

“It’s your happy ending, Stardust.” You say, but of course it isn’t enough. “Not mine~ That means! I should! Leave! Maybe go back to my own timeline, huh?” That should be enough to not traumatize him, maybe. Hopefully.

“Okay. But you didn’t, though.”

Ouch.

“It seems I didn’t, no.”

“I thought you would, for a second,” Ouch. “but then you stopped glowing and–”

“Uh-huh.” Can you throttle them again? The notion seems more appealing by the minute. “I didn’t. Tough luck!”

He gets the hint, at least, and falls silent. Does not leave yet, though. Ugh. 

You… don’t have the energy for this anymore. So you… wait, apparently. What else to do. Just a little more for the show, whatever, haha, what does it matter, it’s what the universe wants. 

You just have to endure a few more minutes.

Until you break.

“...So…” Stardust says, again. You look at them, again. Holds the anger, again. “What are you gonna do, now?”

“Gee, I don’t know.” You laugh. Quick, what's a lie you could tell them? “More importantly, shouldn’t you be getting back to your party? Surely they’re worried~” And you wouldn’t want them to come over and– oh no you couldn’t take that “They might come to see what happened if you take too long.”

“...Loop.” 

Ah. Can’t have shit in this house.

“I… was thinking…” No, no, no no no, no don’t, don’t say it don’t say it if they do you might just break entirely you might do something you might– “If you have nowhere else to go…” no no no no no no “Why don’t you come with me?”

“And third wheel your entire party? Ew, no, thanks.” You say that a little too quickly. But he knows. Oh stars he knows he knows he knows. 

“Loop.” There it is again. That determination from before. Unwavering. Much more than you could ever have, ahaha, well, there is a reason why this Siffrin succeed when you could not, isn’t there?

“No.” No, no, no, you don’t think you can take this, nope, no no no no, please please universe let you have at least something instead but ah no he’s looking at you even as your arms wrap around yourself oh they’re still the same, still starry and sizzling, huh, neat you guess.

“Why not?” they ask, and you want to do so many things that you know you won’t do, probably aren’t even allowed to, ahahah, please stop talking, please stop talking, stop. “You’re… Siffrin, too.”

“No.”

“So they should be your family, too.”

But they’re not. They’re actors. Fakes. Replacements. Carefully crafted mannequins just to torment you, down to perfection just to ruin you. Not yours. Because if they are, then you just royally failed to kill Stardust and that means yet another failure to your list yet another something you wouldn’t deserve even if you weren’t a failure.

“I know what you’re gonna do if I leave you alone, so… so…”

Oh that’s rich. You start laughing.  Oh it is grand. Amazing.  You want to snap. Fuck it all–

“Siffrin?”

…Ah. 

…

That’s

that’s

oh,

the worse

outcome

possible

you

stop

and

look up 

at…

Mirabelle–

The Housemaiden.

Ahhh

…

“Oh, um, Loop, right?” 

But it isn’t just her. There’s other faces. Ahhhhh. Nice! Nice!! Might as well, huh? Maybe one you could have handled, perhaps two, but nooo, let's have everyone, everything's ruined, not ruined enough, come on, you have room for one more, don't you, don't you? let's pick up what remains of you, put it back together, and shatter again. Again and again and again--

You wish you could bleed.

“Oh, Mira, hi.”

“...What happened here?” 

And nope! Nope! That's it. You can’t hear it anymore. It’s another voice that you can’t stand nope nope nope fuck it all you need to actually do something actually productive and maybe get up and maybe start running so so far away until your legs give out until you’re out of here until maybe you die of actual exhaustion and that’s what you would do but you can’t you can’t can’t even breathe can’t do anything you never could do anything and they’ll see it they’ll see it they’ll see it and–

why 

can’t 

you

get 

up

your legs won’t move. they won’t move, nothings working anymore everything’s blurring you can’t breathe there’s that feeling again that disgusting thing that creeps through your bones sizzles you from the core ahhh, ahhh, ahhh, please please please make it stop please–

the ground...

does not split open.

Stardust’s calling your name, you think. You– you feel the presences of them around you, almost close enough to feel the warmth radiating from their bodies so real so real they’re real but they can’t be they aren’t yours they’re– but, but, but, instead Stardust’s there, putting himself in front of you, huh, that’s the second nice thing they did, that’s weird and you don’t know what to think about this or the many implications this could have, actually this would surely haunt you later, if you lived enough to think anything more, hopefully won’t because you can’t take a single more moment in this hell.

“Uh, they’re… very shy, you see.” Haha. Sure. Let’s go with that. “They’re a bit overwhelmed. Let… me handle this??”

“...Do we need to attack them?” That’s. The Researcher, you think? Mmm, maybe. Or the Housemaiden. Not like you know anymore. You don’t want to know! It doesn’t matter! It’s fine! It’s fine! 

“No!” Aww, why not? They should. Better than you doing it, you think. “Uh, give me a moment, and I’ll explain, okay?”

Please go away, actually.

“I’m not doing that,” 

Oh you said that out loud. Haha. Sure. Embarrassing. What’s embarrassment at this point.

“Alright, come on,” Stardust comes into your vision again, though at the corner of your eye you can still spot a shade from one of their party, but you ignore it, ignore it because it hurts and one time already was enough, another would end you, and why hasn’t the ground split up and swallowed you yet. It oughta. “Loop,” there’s a request in their voice and you’ve no choice but to listen, so you look at them. It hurts. Why are you still here. “It’s okay.”

“Haha.” You can feel the worried looks. Why are they still here? This is supposed to be a two person show, at best. Oh, you want to die. 

“It’s okay” they say again, the fuck it is. But they’re touching you suddenly and why does it work. It stings. It’s– an odd sensation. But. You’re… aware. Of the worry in their eyes. The gloved hands that gently, gently, pull your hands from your arms, and suddenly you can also feel the pain that your nails inflicted and ow ow ow ow that’s too much pain, there’s also the pain from crying, the fight, whatever. 

And once your hands are no longer gripping, there is… Stardust. Looking at you. Holding your face (?), and it is… warm. 

Warm.

You think the very knowledge of breathing left you entirely. Eugh.

Same drill as before. You’re. Tired. Too tired to think about this, as stated (and ignored) before. He tells you to breathe, you breathe. He is infinite patience that you do not deserve and, minutes, hours, who knows, passes.

In, and out.

In… And out.

…

Right. 

They’re… here.

You’re here. 

“Back with me?”

You hum. His hands retreat and you… do not… mourn that. 

Just… Yeah. Whatever. It’s fine. You’re normal again.

“Uhhh, Sif?” The Fighter. He’s… “Are they ready to talk now?”

No. “Yes.” Damn it. “Apologies. As Stardust said, I'm afraid your presence was, aha, a bit overwhelming. I’m fragile, you know~”

“...Right.” Researcher. Stardust gets up, offers his hand. Might as well take it. “Care to explain why you both look like you two just fought to death?”

“Hah! No.” 

“...It’s complicated. But, uh, they’re not anymore, see!!!” 

…Yet.

“I’ll…” The housemaiden looks conflicted. You… almost feel bad. “I’ll add that to the pile of things we need to deal with later!!!” Hah! Sucks to be them. “But only because Loop looks like they need it!! And!!! They helped!!! So!!!”

“Sure, Mira.” Stardust at least has the decency to look embarrassed, trying to hide into a hat that isn’t there. Hah.

For a moment, everyone’s silent. They should, because, because, well, you might explode if they don’t, also, why hasn’t your stardust STILL haven’t let go of your hand? You would yourself, but, but, but… you’re selfish. You could have at least this, couldn’t you?

Anyway. The silence. Uncomfortable.

“...Uh. So! We’ve all had a long day!” The Fighter. “And, uh, Sif’s still Craft Exhausted.” Oh yeah. Good, that means they’re leaving. “We should probably head back to the clocktower for now.”

“Right, that seems wise. We can talk to the Head Housemaiden later.” Researcher. Nice. Then she looks at you, and you. Hate that. “...Loop can join us, I suppose.”

“Oh!! Great idea, Madame!”

No. Horrible idea. Why would she say that? 

Can’t have anything.

You… force yourself to smile. Even without a mouth.

Stardust looks a little conflicted, but slowly nods. Then, with a sigh, they accept it, and instead of letting go of your hand (!!!!), they pull you with them instead.

…You have no choice but to follow.

Chapter Text

Here’s a few fun things about the whole being led back to the clocktower business;

One: you still retained your ability to zone out enough to let their words wash over you, whatever it is they're talking about gone as soon as it is uttered. There are, however, a few moments where your consciousness betrays you, threatens to slip back into place, when Stardust can’t seem to walk right and turns out that you’d almost be in the same boat when pain courses through your body. There is a offering of being led back, refused not by you, and that is enough to retreat once again. Then, there’s a brief second where you recognize the walls of the clocktower, where your body trembles, so quick that it almost passes by without it ever being perceived, stashed into a corner of your mind to be studied and dissected later.

It’s… fine. If you don’t think too much about it.

Two: by the time you’re back and aware again, you hear something akin to Stardust commenting how you should not be left alone— hushed whispers and looks thrown at you that you’d much rather not deal with it. And, hm, well, can’t really blame them now, can you? With the way you’ve acted, it’s a wonder in itself how you are actually here in the first place.

…

And Three, for good measure: turns out you’re very tired to actually do anything dangerous to yourself or to anyone else for that matter. There is, regrettably, no energy for any of that. Just a pointed, ever present exhaustion.

You just want to sleep. Deal with that in the morning, when you’re feeling more reasonable.

They leave you on a couch, unsure of where it is best, a thing you don’t even remember being in the clocktower in the first place, probably because it’s so old and battered and kind of uncomfortable, slightly more than the grass by the foot of the Favor Tree. You think you see the party go to a corner to discuss the matter of your presence, a conversation you don’t wish to hear, so. You lay down, head heavy with sleep, and ignore the nagging feeling of their gazes on you.

You sleep, then.

And dream you were floating.

Except, when you wake up, it feels like you haven’t slept at all, though the tiredness of before still clings to your bones (?), as well as a strange residual feeling from your dream, of a touch so warm against you that it might as well burn you alive.

You… can’t tell how many hours have passed. Might as well have been none at all.

But, it is cold and dark around you, for the most part, a crafted candle casting multi-shaded shadows around the little room.

You’re… here. 

You’re still here.

…

Not dead, against all odds. Right. Yeah. No use crying about that, let that thought sink forever so that you can think of something else entirely, maybe the blinding pain racking at your head to remind you of the silly things you’ve done maybe hours, weeks, years ago.

It’s quiet. If you strain your ears (?) a little bit, you can catch the hushed breathing of the party in another room, still sleeping. The middle of the night, then.

…

You’re still tired.

Still curled up in the uncomfortable sofa, you consider just not getting up at all and going back to sleep– more appealing than forcing your aching body to get up, alas.

You feel watched.

And no matter how long you keep your eyes shut to ignore it so whoever it is thinks you’re still asleep and leaves, you can’t really relax under the feeling, so you open your eyes to see–

Bonnie

The kid. Staring at you. With wide eyes. Almost unblinking.  With minute anger underlying their features, as it's in their nature. It’s– You did this before, haven’t you? You could do it again.

…

You don’t say anything.

“...Why do you glow?”

Ah. Fitting for them to ask, in a way. You’d laugh if your throat (?) still worked.

I don’t know, would have been the correct answer, but what you say is: “I’m a star. That’s what they do.” in a whisper, much like the Kid did first, because you imagine they sneaked out purely to ask you this.

They consider you, mouth trembling at the sides, another question you’re sure they want to ask you but aren’t. 

You wish they’d leave.

“What’s a star?” 

…

“The dots in the sky that you can see at night.” You point up for good measure. Doesn’t matter if the ceiling is all you both could see, if you tried.

“Oh.” 

The kid considers this information. You could even hear the cogs in their brain turn. They look like they’re about to ask you something truly upsetting now, but another figure appears and you almost, almost go insane just at the notion of it if you didn’t see it was your Stardust approaching, looking just as tired as you are, who then whispers:

“Bonnie. Could you leave us for a moment?”

The Kid harrumphs, and after a few moments they do as asked, which makes you wonder what is it that they told them to have them comply so easily. 

Luckily, they leave.

Stardust doesn’t.

You close your eyes out of defiance. You want to sleep anyway. Maybe if you keep your eyes closed long enough you’ll eventually fall asleep again and avoid the conversation you know Stardust wants to have.

Can’t have that, now.

“Loop,” their whisper is quiet, but against yourself you still hear it. “We… need to talk.”

It’s back to being hesitant. Unsure. You just woke up. You’re tired and you don’t have the energy for this. To fight anymore. 

“Sure, stardust”, you sigh out, opening your eyes again.

“Not here,” they hiss, and actually understandable, Kid’s still awake, whatever they have to talk about probably too delicate for the ears of his party.

They wait for you to get up, to which you do begrudgingly, odd sensation when your feet touch the ground again. Stardust walks out with a similar tiredness to his bones, leads you just outside of the clocktower and you… do not… look… at anywhere in particular. 

“I meant what I said, you know.” Stardust says after a while, while he’s sitting down and pressing his back at the old walls of the Clocktower. You do the same, away from him.

“Did you now?” 

He gives you an odd look.

“...Yes.” He squirms. You can identify the little tells that speak of his deep uncomfortableness at the situation. “I, uh, I… care about you, you know?”

“Do you now?”

“And… I want you to stay. You could stay.”

What is it that you could say to this? To shut them up? To have them understand that you`re not worth keeping.

“I’ve already fulfilled my duty, Stardust.” You say, entirely unfeeling of the cheer that seeps out of your voice. “You got what you wanted. Your perfect ending.” And you didn’t. 

“It could be yours, too.” 

He makes it sound so easy. 

“If you’re dead, maybe!” Aww, he doesn’t seem to like the joke (is it a joke?). “Point is. There’s no place for me here.” There never was.

“There could be.” 

You sigh. 

They look exasperated, now, and you really wish you could just not be here anymore, back to your stupid couch, to that stupid tree, away from this place, gone and buried under the Favor Tree as you ought’ve been.

“You deserve it, too! You endured, too!” Hearing your words parroted back at you is weird. You don’t think you like it. 

“How do you even think this would work? It's an absolute wonder your allies didn’t obliterate me the second they saw me,” he should know this, and honestly you’re still surprised by it too, still trying to hack away at the very reason why the Researcher would ever really consider bringing you back with them, she must’ve have hit her head in the way or something, because it doesn't make any sense at all– “Do you truly think they’ll like having a stranger around?” Because, let’s not beat around the bush, that’s what you are. Stranger. Nobody. 

“I already talked to them!” Ah. Well. “They… agreed to let you come with us. To Bambouche.” For Bonnie. For their sister.

You… blink.

“Why?”

“...Huh?” The confusion in their face is a little bit funny, you’d laugh if you had the strength to. Then Stardust registers the question, and falls silent. There’s no answer. You know why. It’s because he asked. Because for some inexplicable reason, he wants you around, can’t let go of anything at all if the thing is nigh unrecognizable at this point and because you’re a coward that couldn’t have left even if the party haven’t found you.

You hate this.

“Um. Remember what you said?” Stardust continues. You wish you didn’t, actually, it was embarrassing, only said in the heat of a moment out of the last scraps of feelings you still held, feelings that are nowhere to be seen, now. “I… have to talk to them, now. That’s. That’s hard. I… can’t do it by myself.” No. They can’t. “If you’re here, it’d be… easier.”

That’s what you’re here for, then, isn’t it? Perhaps yet another thing that he doesn’t realize they’ve done, chained you here in this blinding earth and condemned you all over again. Considering your sins, perhaps it is fair in some way.

You realize you haven’t said anything, preoccupied with nails (?) digging at the grass, and that Stardust is looking at you. Expecting something. Another show.

…

You don’t think you can do this anymore.

“I don’t know if I can,” you admit, then. “I’m tired.”

You don’t look at his reaction. You don’t want to.

“Things… could get better. They have been. I mean.” Against yourself. Against yourself. Against everything. Despite everything. “...At least try?”

...

“Sure, stardust.” 

You’re so tired. He’s not gonna give you a choice. The universe didn’t. Haven’t you learned? It’s what he wants. It’s what he wants. Haven’t you learned?

“Thank you, Loop.” He dares to sound giddy at your response.

Haven’t you?

You dream of pools of your own blood.

It’s morning. You wake up again but the party’s already up, speaking in hushed whispers, and your body still hurts and you don’t really want to hear anything they’re saying. Try as you might you can’t really fall back into your slumber, and against yourself and your thoughts the cat’s curious and wants to be killed by knowledge.

“...Don’t get me wrong, Siffrin.” It’s the researcher speaking. “I don’t trust them.”

“Then why did you request them to come back with us?” The Fighter, now. Oh, very convenient. “I. I mean. Not that I wouldn’t… also have done it…” Would he? Or is he just saying that? …Your brain still can’t quite catch up. Opinions half baked.

You… resign yourself to listen.

“Because I have questions that I want answered. Clearly, they’ve helped Siffrin, but Siffrin wants them around.”

“It wasn’t what it looked like.” Stardust. Oh, so they’re awake, too.

“Then what was it, Siffrin?”

“...It’s complicated. I- I… I’ll tell you eventually, okay? Just. Not now. We’re… a bit overwhelmed. They are.”

“I think they look cool.” The Kid, now. “And they helped us find Frin and helped them get out of the loops. And I believe Frin!” Isn’t that touching. “S-sometimes I hurt Nille without meaning to, too.”

…You’re still too sleepy to deal with this. You accompany the silence that follows.

“W-Well…” Housemaiden. “I think… it’s okay, for now. But. Siffrin.” You can imagine the jolt that courses through your Stardust as he’s addressed so plainly. “If they do anything to you…” An implication. Unsaid threat.

“...Is that settled, then?” Researcher.

Silent agreements, you assume.

“What’s the plan now?” Fighter.

“The plan is having BREAKFAST!” Kid all but shouts. 

“Not so loud, Bonnie! They’re still asleep!”

“Then you better wake them soon because they need to eat.” Do you? Can you? Something to test later, you suppose.

It doesn’t matter. You should get up soon. You hear them start to shuffle around, back to their routine. Soon enough by some weirdness of the universe Stardust will realize you’re awake and then you’ll be back to the stage, lights shining down on you as they all look and expect reactions you do not know if you have it in yourself to give.

…

You’re still here.

Chapter Text

Despite what you tell yourself to get up before someone from Stardust party comes to drag you out of your little place, you… actually do not really do that. It’s. Not nice, no, but… Comfortable, you suppose, to stay like this.

There’s conversations happening in the background. It’s familiar. Their voices washing over you. Conversations you’ve practiced, heard many different times, many different tones and a thousand different iterations, etched into your skin until you knew it by heart. The cues of when you could speak, what you should say, the intonation, the expression you should wear, how sometimes if you’re uncomfortable or tired you’d say nothing at all and it’d continue all the same— always the same, always the same. 

Was there ever a time where you knew anything more than this?

…

Anyway.

It’s different things they’re speaking of, now, you think at least, so that’s nice, it’s nice to hear in a slightly more involved scenario, not where you can participate or not through the lens of the universe tasked to help your stardust but with the knowledge that they’re just there, out of reach, in another room. 

You hear the Housemaiden’s voice. Her tone always laced with uncertainty and naiveness, her character so unsure of herself and yet carrying a weight on her shoulders that would crush others, you know. She gets excited sometimes, and can talk a lot. You enjoy it when this happens. 

You hear other things that cuts through the fog of your ever wavering consciousness: the sound of a pan sizzling, along with the clitter clatter of many utensils. The heavy steps of the Fighter, his voice— gentle, sure, aloof… the occasional flip of a page. The Researcher’s always reading, though somehow she always makes a point to say something sometimes, react to a joke,  always paying attention. More perceptive than you ever thought her to be.

If you strained yourself a bit, you could imagine yourself between them, talking about everything and nothing at all.

…

…You should get up.

Should’ve could’ve would’ve. You don’t. Because if you do then you’ll have to think about interactions, and, ew, disgusting. But. If you stay. Then your mind… will wander, despite your best wishes.

It 's comfortable. You could almost fall asleep to this. You think you may have, occasionally, though by the lens of Stardust. Mm. Not enough information to conclude, try again later.

Rinse and repeat, rise and repeat, raise your voice and say your cue, your lines. Like this, you can ignore the pain in your body. Ignore many a great things, see, you’re so practiced at this, so good at it!!!

Plus. You’re tired. What if you fell asleep again? Would they really wake you up just to test if you can eat again and face an awkward situation, right!! Your Stardust wouldn’t, right!!! It’s his party anyway. Nothing to do with you. His responsibility. They can be awkward in your place.

…Actually. You don’t know. Maybe he would. Would they?

You know what. It 's too late now. Your brain’s back in the groove, you’re awake and aware and in pain and uncomfortable. You know you won’t get back to sleep. So. Nothing more than to wait. Another thing you’ve very well practiced at. Haha.

Eventually, you hear the clicks of heels, a little heavier than usual, and the swish of fabric to tell you that Stardust’s there.

“Leave me alone,” you say before they can get a word in, and it sounds hoarse and ow. ow. Talking bad. You should never ever speak again, actually.

“...Good morning to you too.” 

You harrumph. Don’t even wanna look at him. No, curl yourself a little more in your couch.

“...You don’t have a blanket.” Stardust says, as if the notion just now occurred to them. It’s possibly the same case for you, but. You won’t admit it.

“Great observation. What a smart cookie!”

You also don’t think about it.

They scoff. Whatever. You can be grumpy in the mornings. Who’s gonna stop you.

“Join us for breakfast?”

Takes you a while to process that. Hm.

“Why?”

And. You’re too curious to see the expression Stardust is wearing, so you open your eyes and ow ow ow too much light at once, owie, ow. You missed whatever face he was making, oh well.

“Why wouldn’t you?”

For many reasons. You could say blind it all and start listing them right now, but. Not alone. Party on the other side. Thin walls, and you suppose that’s not a thing silly helpful Loop would do.

“Fine.”

It’s your salvation in a way. Getting up and stretching your sore legs to try and chase away some of the numbness of your limbs (?). Something else to do. Something else to think about.

Speaking of. Stardust looks… like a mess, really. Which you suppose it’s not that unusual. The bags under his eyes do not look any better, though the cuts and scrapes and everything else from the fight did, courtesy of the Housemaiden, assuming. You suppose you can feel a little pride in the way he’s moving, one hand on a wall to support a bit of their weight.

Whatever. You breathe in, and out.

Back to the stage.

You do not mind when the talk of the room simply stops when you both come in. Eyes turn to look at you and Stardust, and you… do not… mind it at all. Not now. It’s fine. It’s early. Problem for future Loop (haha).

Whatever. You’re led to a table, and you stay there, prim and proper, and do not think about anything.

You let their words wash over you. And commit to not think about anything at all.

…

…

…

Except when you do. 

It's the noise of a plate being set down in front of you that brings you back to reality. Or, not a plate, exactly, but a bowl, filled with… something. Soup? Vegetable soup. 

You… look back at it. Barely have any time to actually look at Bonnie, retreating from your spot to go back to theirs and sit triumphantly. It seems you missed the presentation of the food speech, but. Huh. That’s… weird. You’d assume they’d have the foods of the loops. The Kid worked so hard on them, after all.

You look at your Stardust. He doesn't seem confused… so… you supposed you won’t be, either. 

But. Soup. Yeah.

Try as your might, your mind cannot seem to wrap around the idea of this situation right in front of you. There’s a bowl in front of you. There’s soup in front of you. Someone put it there. The Kid did. It’s liquid. It’s food. It's mid-shaded.

There’s soup in front of you, and you can’t seem to remember when was the last time you had something– you don’t think you ever tried to eat anything during Stardust loops (they also never brought you anything, the rascal). During your own, it all stopped making sense after a while, all blurring into the same memory, the same ashen taste the same practice texture. It stopped mattering a while ago. Why keep information that will not be useful to you. 

There’s soup in front of you, and you can’t seem to remember when was the last time you saw something new– the last one was a candy that crinkled when you rolled it around your fingers. This doesn’t. It’s just plain, old soup, vegetables sinking into it, staring back at you. Try as you might, you can’t remember what even that candy tasted like, before. Because eventually even that novelty faded away and turned into ash and then into indifference and then into the same practice as before. 

The party starts eating.

There’s soup in front of you, and you think you know why. It’s because of your Stardust. They need the key-lories, sick with Craft Exhaustion, or whatever it is. Try as you might, you can’t seem to wrap your mind around what this reminds you of (it reminds you of something), nor why you are so scared to touch your spoon and get a taste. Could you? Could you?

…

You…

Don't know if you want to find out.

This is pathetic, actually, ahaha. Look at you. So shaken up about something as harmless and as simple as a bit of food. What's so wrong with it. What did it tell you. Who did it insult. It’s just soup. Just food. Novel. New. 

When’s the last time you felt hunger?

That thought summons something. A pang in your belly (?). It’s uncomfortable. It’s the ghost of a sensation long forgotten. Have you ever even felt it? Haha. What kind of person can't even feel hunger, huh? Though you supposed you don't qualify for that anymore.

This is stupid.

You should just pick up the spoon and try it. Maybe try the bread with it, too. how would it taste like?

“Why aren’t you eating?” 

Ah. It makes sense that the Kid would ask, wouldn’t it. After all, they made it. Reserved a portion for you, and here you are, staring at it like it’s some sort of disgusting little thing that you can't face, like it’s one of the other foods, like it’s an entire mystery waiting to be unraveled. Can’t even do this right. Come on now, grab your spoon. Take your bread. Move it to the soup. Bring it to your face and then–

Why

won’t

you

move

It’s not that hard! It 's not! Why are you freaking out over this? It is literally just soup and vegetables. Not even something worth to freak out about, it’s not like less thah twenty four hours ago you were being asked to do the impossible it’s not like you might have killed yourself in two different ways literal and what constitutes as a clone earlier, this is literally just something simple made and shown to you and the very LEAST you could do is try and eat it! If you don’t stop freaking out they’re gonna notice and they’re gonna ask and then you’ll never know there might never be another opportunity like this ever again, so just, just crabbing do it already!!!

…

They expect an answer. They all do.

“I… don’t know if I can? Haha.” There. It’s the truth. You manage to peel your eyes off the bowl to look at the party, but somehow that’s even worse. They’re looking confused. Worried. Pity. 

You don’t want any of those emotions.

Nor do you want the look of your Stardust that you know it’s directed at you, cheeks halfway stuffed, action interrupted, corners of their lips twitching, as if they’re a minute away from swallowing and saying something.

“...Then just try?” 

Right. It’s simple. Said in a simple, matter of fact way, proof of the silliness you're pulling inside your mind right now. A scene, that’s what this is. You’re causing a scene and it’s not even over something important. 

…

Why are you doing this? Why can’t you just be NORMAL?

“Um.” Is the only coherent thing that comes out of your mouth (?). 

The Kid continues to stare at you, the scowl deepening. If you don’t at least try, they’re gonna be upset.

You… breathe in,

and out

And pick up the spoon.

The Kid’s watching you. Waiting. You can’t make them upset. You can’t–

Your stomach (?) hurts. its all you feel nowadays it’s hunger, hunger, hunger, hunger

Will it taste like ash? Will it taste like anything at all? Will your mouth tremble when you open it, will your teeth sink down, will it travel down your throat, will it sit in your belly and chase away this ever growing coldness inside of you?

You open your mouth, reach forward, and...

It

tastes feels

like

nothing

at all

…

…

That 's fine.

It's. Even more pathetic than you first thought, though. Scene: Stardust is looking at you, finally having swallowed what they’re eating, holding his own bowl in one hand. The Researcher narrows her eyes at you, eyebrows raised in curiosity or scrutiny, that shall remain a mystery for the audience. The Housemaiden, frozen on an expression that shifts between worried and laughing. The Fighter, also frozen on an expression, though he looks like he’s forgotten how to react entirely at things. Absolutely flabbergasted. The Kid looks astonished which is the first synonym for the best word you know that you can think of at the moment, THEN they giggle, THEN they start laughing.

And there's!!! The star of the show!! You!!! Loop!!! A spoon full of liquid shoved into your star that doesn’t feel like anything and doesn’t taste anything because ahaha, turns out there’s not a mouth over there that can move and bite and chew and swallow and taste, it’s as if you’re shoving a spoon onto a wall. So the liquid falls, dribbles, smears your star, falls onto the table, and soon there's only the piece of a nameless vegetable that you didn't even want to eat anyways, all alone and ruined.

Hahahaha! Look at them!

Hilarious.

…

Haven’t you learned? You’re a living comedy sketch.

…

“Well!” You put the spoon away in favor of clapping your hands. “That’s one question answered. It seems I can’t eat!”

Your stomach (?) still twists into itself.

…

You’re hungry.

The Kid's still laughing. The Housemaiden looks like she'll tentatively laugh, but is very much telling herself not to. You feel a little gross. The soup is touching your not-skin and that's so so so gross. You want it OUT you want this not skin OUT you want to burst you want to–

You push the bowl out of your way. Out of sight. Etcetera etcetera.

“It’s fine, Housemaiden. You can laugh.”

That doesn’t reassure her. Oh well!

“...You don’t have a mouth?” Researcher. Sounds less like a question than what you make it seem.

“Apparently not!” It’s sickening how sweet your voice comes. Haha. It’s fine. “So it seems I can’t eat! Sorry, Kid.”

They laugh and giggle for a little more and you expect at least the Fighter or Stardust to join in, but they don’t, which. Whatever. Their loss.

“Why not?” Anyway. The Kid.

That you can deal with! Answer questions! Yay!

“It seems stars have no need for food~”

“Seriously, though.” The Kid stifles their giggles. “If you don’t eat, then how will you get better and regain your energy? That's like. Basic stuff.”

“Indeed! Hmm, if I had to hazard a guess… I’d say the Universe already takes care of that, you know. Grants me the strength I need in other ways.”

Haha. Sure. Yet another thing it took from you. What need does a star have for a mouth, anyway?

You reach for a napkin nearby. You feel sick you wondered if, in the case of having been able to bite, if you would throw up.

“What’s the universe?”

Also. You grow tired of this. Why has no one stopped the Kid yet.

Whatever. It’s fine. You can be normal. Act a little more, via propping one hand to where your non-mouth would be, and answer:

“The place where the stars live, one could say!”

“So the sky.”

“Eh. Pretty much.“ You shrug. What does it matter? It doesn’t. It doesn't!!

…It doesn’t.

“I think the Universe’s pretty stupid, then.” The Kid continues, then, and finally the other actors remembered their roles, unfrozen, and are back into reacting. Stardust in particular is pretty funny, eye darting back and forth from you to the Kid. As for you, you’re arranging your hands to rest your non-chin on them.

“Is it? I suppose it is a little bit~ But it’s fine, Kid, can’t say you didn’t try.” You wish they hadn’t. Whatever. The Researcher’s looking your way, as if she’s interested to see where this is going. Or not. You can't read her she's not yours

“Um, Bonbon…” It’s the Fighter that says something. “I don’t…” Still recovering. Ha!!! Look!!! One thing you’re better at compared to him!!! Ha!!!

Isn’t that neat.

“It’s pretty sad, too. I mean.” 

They take a bite out of their own food.

“Bonnie…” Housemaiden.

“Boniface…” Researcher. Huh!

“Food’s pretty great. I don’t know. Imagine not being able to eat your favorite food–”

…

“Boniface.”

Finally they stop, muttering a what and momentarily looking scared– you’d be too, the Researcher can make a pretty mean face. 

However.

…

You stop wiping the napkin on your not-thighs. Something the Kid said. Rattles in your not-skull. A memory. A memory. Something. Favorite food, was it?

You…

can’t…

remember.

…Hahaha.

                         WHAT 

                 USE                DOES 

                        A STAR 

HAVE FOR MEMORIES?

The universe made you this way it hates you it doesn't care it isn’t watching it’s not doing anything it hates you it hates you it hates you it hates you it made you this way p r e c i s e l y  t o c o n d e m n  y o u

…Wait.

they’re looking at you they’re looking at you they’re looking at you you’re trembling and they’re looking at you they’re looking at you you don’t want them to see you

You tune out.

Chapter Text

…

…

…

…

……

……

But you can’t. You can’t tune out. You can’t escape.

You try and you try and you try but you can’t escape they’re still there and you hear them scolding The Kid and The Kid getting increasingly confused even though you don’t deserve this and you feel the pointing eyes of everyone flicking over to you and the Kid giving you a look as if they pity you and the Fighter looks at you with so much emotion that it feels far too close to care which you hate you hate you hate but they keep looking at you and the way you’re trembling and the way you can’t stop the motions of the napkin on your not-thighs and those hurt those hurt so much incomparable to what actually truly deeply hurts and the thoughts continue to swirl even when you want them to stop you want to be out of here out of this situation you wish you were out of here why are you still here why is

Stardust is saying something and you don’t want them to look at you you don’t want them to see you

and…

You’re still hungry.

You’re hungry? You’re hungry???

You can’t be hungry.

You can’t. You can’t eat. You don’t have the r i g h t to eat. It wasn’t earned. The universe didn’t see it fit to give you. That’s a privilege reserved for your Stardust, your copy, your better version, the version that did not sin the version that was better. 

You’re hungry? You’re hungry???

But you don’t know when’s the last time that you’ve eaten something and it tasted like anything. You don’t remember when’s the last time a piece of candy between your fingers that crinkled and crinkled tasted like anything. It had a name. It had a taste. Something that you loved. Something that you hated. Something that even if it tasted like nothing like everything else it wouldn’t matter because the gesture, the gesture is what mattered most the fact that you received something the fact that they cared the fact that they saw you even when you didn’t think they ever would the fact that them out of all of your party paid attention and noticed even when it made you squirm because as much as you wanted to be seen the thought terrified you. They knew what it felt like to be hungry and have everything not have a taste, they knew what it felt like to be hungry and have nothing fill you, they knew what it was to want want want something so much and not understand what you were feeling and not understand how in the blinding universe all of this could be so unfair.

You don’t remember the feeling of being full. 

Only of emptiness.

You’re hungry? No. It hurts. It hurts in a way that wants to be something more than what it is. It is not a real sensation. It’s a memory of something you gave up, a reminder, it hurts because that’s all that’s left of you, a whisper of something that desires what it can’t be, so it isn’t real.

You’re hungry? You can’t be.

It hurts. It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts IT HURTS!!! 

But you can’t eat.

Stardust is in front of you. Or you think they are. It’s hard to tell with your vision getting blurry– tears or are you passing out? Oooh, the thought of passing out is nice, actually, that's an escape from this hell, but, oh, well, if you’re thinking this coherently it doesn’t mean you’re gonna pass out. Actually, you wonder: could you loop in this situation? that's kind of a fucked up up thing to wonder here, you don’t think you could anyway ahaha You still could in the fight before, maybe you still could, yeah, yeah, that’s an idea and oh shit oh stars oh damn–

Stardust’s holding your hand. The hand that was trying to wipe the dirt from before that actually you know what you’re still feeling the dirt of the soup all the way it touched you, and ew, gross. Maybe you were doing it so hard it hurt you, maybe if you did it hard enough it’d truly hurt you and then you’d get the perfect opportunity to test something else. Could you bleed? Were you still close enough to a human that you could bleed, or is all you can feel anger and pain and hunger? You don’t know!!!

What you do know!

Is that everything’s overwhelming! Usually a hand holding yours would be nice and it would feel fine, usually the fact that the napkin is being taken from you would be nice or the fact that they’re trying to clean your star (oh so you can get dirty someway that’s nice, that's curious, actually how in the stars does that work) would be nice and you’d like it (?), you’d like to be held, but at the moment nope!! Ahaha!! Nope!!! You hate this!!! Leave me alone!!! I don’t want any of this!!!

You’re being told to breathe, you think. Can you still? If you have no mouth to eat then you have no lungs, then you have no stomach then you have nothing, so are you breathing really? Or is the ghost of a ghost of a ghost of a distant memory still kinda works? No, no, what Stardust says makes sense, the motion is still calming, doesn’t matter if you don’t have anything else, at least this is a thing that helps. It helps. 

You breathe in.

You don’t feel the air come inside your lungs.

You breathe out.

You don’t feel the air come out of your lungs.

They’re still looking at you. Your working eye can see them. Your clogged up ears roaring with the beating of your non-heart so loud can hear them. That’s so not ideal. 

Your hands still tremble.

You try again. In, and out.

You can sort of move a little more now, pull your hand and star head away from your Stardust and give them a weird scowl or a weird look or a pained one, whatever works really. He gives a look of pained understanding but doesn’t try again, good, good, now if only everyone would leave so you can break down in peace. That’d be nice. But they don’t they won’t.

Though you do notice someone leading the Kid away from the room. Hm. Doesn’t matter. Haha. Doesn’t matter.

“I’m sorry–” comes a voice of someone in your ears. Is that the Kid? Not sure. “I didn’t know!”

“We just thought you’d appreciate having a meal with us..” Boo-hoo! Who cares about Loop anyway! Leave already!! Whoever it is! You also didn’t know! But now you do! So it means you don’t need to be here anymore for future meals. Oh stars. Future meals. That’s a thing. Nope. Too much. Nevermind. You don’t really wanna think of the possibility of having a future away from the loops, where this kind of thing could happen again.

“It’s fine.” You say, though it comes out very very shaky, words hard. Maybe teary, too. “I also didn’t know.”

“It-It’s not fine!! How can you say that!!!” That’s the Housemaiden you think. Awareness coming back. Sigh. Sometimes you hate having coherent thoughts.

“Well– no, but, Mira, I don’t think this is the time to say this right now,” Fighter. Always so caring. Why? The best time to say this is never. Preferably. 

“...Oh… Um. S-Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You try again, emphasizing it this time. 

You think the Researcher isn’t here. Hm.

“Yeah, um… Give us a moment. Loop?” Stardust tries again. You look at him. Humming in response. “Are you with us?”

“Unfortunately!” You try to say this with cheer, but it doesn’t quite work. Are you still crying? It's kinda hard to differentiate things, you feel a little weird. Put a pin in this thought.

“...I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to hear it, Stardust. You didn’t know. Your party didn’t know. I didn’t know. Can we move on? I’d rather not think about it anymore.”

“...Right.” 

Then there’s some uncomfortable silence. Both of you are pretty bad at comforting people, you know this.

“Do you wanna be alone right now?”

Are you gonna let me? is what you want to shoot back. It’s pretty mean. Maybe you shouldn’t be this mean. Best not to add to the list. Either way, instead you say: “Yes.”

He helps you get up, even when you think you don’t need it. Then lead you back to the room adjacent, the one with the stupid couch. Where you can stay. And Stardust can leave. At least everyone’s not in your immediate field of vision anymore.

…

…

…

……

Okay. You’re. Okay now. A little bit. 

Things are. Hard to identify right now. You feel like you’re in a pretty weird place right now. Half aware, half not aware. You can think. Yes, can rationalize, but you don’t… really feel anything, at least not the pain that you’re pretty sure you were feeling earlier, your not-head, everything’s so weird. Like you’re stuck between an out of body experience, tuned-out and came back, but you haven’t been back fully, so half of the things you could have normally aren’t there.

They’re… not looking at you anymore. Relief. You're... alone.

...

...

…Actually. Are you tired? You… think so. You… feel tired. You want to sleep. 

You dream that you were eating your friends alive.

you’re hungry

…?

Oh. You’re back on the couch. Hrm. When did that happen again?

Awareness comes back to you slowly. First: You’re not dead. Second: You’re still here, which is the clocktower, the place you’ve been dragged to. Third: …Something happened before. 

Oh. Oh yeah. You were being a little stupid. A little silly, even. Hahaha. 

Well. 

It’s dark now, as disconcerting as that is, and everything hurts, especially your head (?), ouchie, killer headache there, not like you’re not used to this kinda stuff happening. As the memories slowly come back to you and you start to cringe internally over the whole situation and the way you acted, you wonder: what happened to the party after all that? 

…Again, not your circus, not your monkey, it’s Stardust’s problem.

Speaking of! Where are they?

It hurts. It’s their fault.

Ah! Must be them. You recognize the click clack click or their heels. Who wears heels in the middle of night anyway? you would if you still could What a weirdo.

Something is thrown at you in the middle of your peaceful resting and it takes everything you have it in you not to scream. Not because it scared you or anything, or maybe yes it did (not like you’re gonna stop at every little thing to discuss internally the reasons of such a reaction) but you don’t so it’s a thing you can be proud of. 

You still jolt and squirm and tremble in an entirely non-embarrassing way. Nuh-uh.

Ugh.

“...Sorry,” comes a voice, it’s your Stardust, looking actually entirely guilty of what he’s just done. You scowl. “Just thought you were cold.”

It’s a blanket. Yes. Of course.

“Ah. Um. Thank… you…?”

That’s. The third nice thing your Stardust did. You think, maybe, you’re not really keeping count you’re not ahaha who would not you nope you’re normal.

The blanket’s nice. It’s thin, a little fuzzy, enough that you could wrap yourself entirely in it sort of like a cocoon, you always liked to wrap yourself into a blanket, liked the way it hugged over your frame, comfy. Not exactly sure of the why. It’s just. Nice. 

…this is nice. 

It's the perfect blanket.

…You. Don’t want to get emotional over this, goddamn it, you just tuned back in. But. It’s nice. And. You. Don’t. Deserve. It. You don’t.

Stardust doesn’t leave. 

You want him to leave. This is awkward. Stardust begone. Shoo. Get outta here.

“What?” You ask. 

They look back to you. What you said might’ve worked as a good excuse for your Stardust to feel like they should say something to you.

“Are you feeling better?”

No. “Yes.”

“...Really?” Ah. Can’t hide this from him. Boo.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You want to enjoy your blanket. Wrap it around you. “What time is it?”

“Uh, I don’t remember.” At least Stardust gets the hint and leaves the matter alone for now. This is awkward. He's awkward, stars. “Everyone’s out to talk to the Head Housemaiden.”

Oh! He must’ve stayed to watch you, then. Make sure you’re not doing anything drastic, which you wouldn’t do now, you’re feeling very normal– already accepted the fact that leaving isn’t an option. Wait. They wouldn’t leave you alone with him, would they? You wouldn’t. They think you’re dangerous you are.

“Are we alone?” The cat’s curious, still. Has to know.

“No, Odile’s here. ‘nother room. Can’t hear us.”

Oh.

They look apologetic about that. Doesn’t matter. You wave a hand around to dismiss him.

They don’t leave.

“...I’m… Um.” Stardust wants to say something. You think you know what it is.

“I don’t think we’re looping back again, by the way.” You offer. Stardust squirms in place, retreating back into– not his cloak. Night clothes. Cloak’s out. He looks tired. He still tries. Frankly an adorable action. “That’d probably have happened already, if you were.”

“...I…” He struggles still. Ever so patient, you wait. “...I just feel like I should be there.”

…

“Well, yeah, you should have, dummy!”

“I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

Isn’t he sweet.

“I’d have been fine alone.”

You both know that’s a lie. Your presence is a liability at the moment. As it is, normally. It’s still a hard thing to grasp, the fact that Stardust wants you around, despite your wishes. Frankly, a line of thought that if it lingers too long, could poison your entire mind and send you spiraling again, and already it was established that breaking down isn’t useful nor a pleasant thing to go through again, not so soon. The least you could do is try to be normal. How are they– The Kid– You can’t help but wonder. 

…

“Stardust.” You choose to focus on him, instead. “We’re not going back.”

“I know.” The what ifs linger. The anxiety lingers. “...I’m tired.”

“Sounds like that's two of us.” Sounded funnier in your head. It isn’t, really. 

He… looks a teensy-tiny bit more exhausted than you, now that there's a moment to properly look at them. Bags under their eyes, hair all messy, strands going everywhere, a sagging to their shoulders, a slowness to their reactions. Of course. He must’ve not have slept, all this time.

“You should go to bed.”

“...I know.” He sighs. “I want to wait for them to be back.” To be sure. That they’re not going back. 

If this was the normal play, Stardust would’ve been there, too, you know. Not a shred of worry thrown your way, things proceeding as the universe intended. Nothing’s normal anymore, and, frankly, it’s still a struggle to adjust to this fact. Novelty. New things. A day after the loops. The weirdness that you feel, this out of place feeling stings.

“Yes, yes, but you look absolutely wrecked, you know. Have you looked at a mirror?”

Stardust, in his delay of reacting, makes a familiar expression. Oh no. Is that really what you look like when you’re about to–

“I’m looking at one right now.”

“Shut up.” Bad. Horrible. Would’ve been better if you thought about it. “My point stands. Go sleep, won’t you? The party won’t like it if you passed out due to exhaustion, you know~”

“...But…” Always a but. You understand. 

“Wouldn’t you have looped already, if that was to happen? Plenty of very embarrassing world shattering situations, if I do say so myself. You didn't. So it's not gonna happen.” Logic gets them. Or maybe it’s the droopiness of his eye. Stardust looks very, very tired. “And take your eyepatch off before you sleep, won’t you? It’s gonna itch when you wake up.”

Begrudgingly, he does just that. Shoulders drop.

Still doesn’t leave. Your head (?) hurts and you’re not feeling very reasonable with so much pain. You wish he would leave.

“...Will you be here when I wake up?”

And doesn’t Stardust sound so anxious when they ask you? Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting and selfish of him, in all honesty. 

You wish you wouldn’t be. You want to not be here. Not being an option, you pick the next best thing that will make him leave:

“...I will.”

You will. You’ll be here when he wakes up. You’ll be here when the party’s back. You’re all that remains, after all.

Hesitance once again. Stardust blinks. Eyepatch in hand, they nod, slowly, slowly, and then leave. You don’t get up to accompany him, but listen to the shuffling of the bed that comes not too long after.

A weird thought appears: did the Researcher hear their conversation? Where is it that she is exactly? Would she answer, if you asked how’s the party doing– No, no. They’re not yours. You shouldn’t care. You shouldn’t.

Then. Their breathing. The silence that the lack of their presence leaves, uncomfortable and poignant and so ever present. There’s only you, now, and possibly the Researcher somewhere in the Clocktower, you’ve never really took the time to explore and know all of its nooks and cranny’s, a few rooms being familiar already enough for you. With the absence of consciousness of your Stardust comes this heavy silence, with heavy silence comes space for thought to creep back into some nasty little crevices again. 

You don’t want to think about anything. 

Or get up.

There’s a blanket. That they left to you. Fuzzy, comfortable, thin. You wrap yourself around it, and as loathe as you are to admit it, you like how it feels around your body, reminiscent of a cloak no longer yours, makes this stupid couch feel a little bit more comfortable. 

You… know you don’t deserve this little comfort. 

Damn the Universe if you won’t enjoy it while you can, before it’s taken from you as everything is wont to be taken off your lightless corrupted hands.

You’re tired. You wrap yourself into a cocoon, allow yourself to fall into a fog of comfort, not quite sleeping, not quite aware, a rare moment where your mind will leave you alone, perhaps for a little while. You think of the clouds, think that you’re outside, out of this loathsome achingly familiar place, on the grass, watching the clouds. Watching them move. It’s better than thinking of all the alternatives.

It seems that pain and mental tiredness aren’t enough to let you sleep for real. Eventually, you’re back in the present, again, listening to the breathing of your Stardust, hearing footsteps from somewhere in the clocktower. Eventually, the nasty thoughts of before crawl back, and eventually, the thoughts hidden at the crevices of your mind climb back to the surface, ready to torment, maim and drink up your blood (?).

Anxiety. Dread. Woe. Fear. You can’t do this again. Breaking down, or looping, or pretending that you’re well enough in the head (?) to help your Stardust again. This situation, this waiting, reminds you of the so-called hangout between the two of you, a little bit, looking at the house in the distance and wondering when death would come to their party. Except. It isn’t. It’s not like rationalizing the situation, presenting yourself logic and facts helps stave off the anxiety. 

You think you hate your Stardust for plaguing you with this thought. Ignorance is bliss. You wish you were ignorant. You’ve always been.

…

You hold off the urge to hide your entire body underneath your blanket. Best not to.

As thoughts swirl and swirl and swirl inside your mind and time marches on slowly, soon you’ll realize that nothing’s happening. You hear knocks on the door, distant. 

You pretend you’re asleep. 

The party comes in. There’s footsteps of who you assume it’s the Researcher coming over to greet them, and you resist the deep urge of both opening your eye to look at the little reunion and to hide fully under your nice little blanket. Instead, you force your breathing to become steady, and feel bad for listening in.

“So. How did it go?” Researcher asks.

“Pretty okay!” Answers the Fighter. Multiple footsteps, you can’t identify who’s who when they’re a collective. “How’s Siffrin?”

“Asleep. Loop, too. I think they were talking earlier. I didn’t listen.”

“O-oh… Did you see if they're okay?” Oh! that’s the Kid now. How surprising!

And utterly pointless. They don’t need to worry about you.

“No. But I’d argue they seem fine, Boniface.”

“Hrm.” They harrumph.

They start walking again.

“So, what did the Head Housemaiden say?”

“Um, not much…” Regular Housemaiden answers. “She passed on her thanks to all of us, to you and Siffrin, too!”

“Uh-huh. No problem. What else?”

No one answers. It’s because the footsteps are now very, very close to you, and once again, you resist the urge to either squirm or hide.

“Oh…!” Fighter. “They have a blanket!”

“Siffrin must’ve brought it to them.” Researcher answers, and what is that in her voice you hear? Oh my! …Best not to think about it.

You can feel their gazes. Uncomfortable. You really, really, really wish you were asleep right now.

“They… They kinda look like a burrito, all wrapped like that, don’t they? Cute…”

…No??? No you don't??

“Loop burrito…” Housemaiden says. No! That’s mortifying! Go away! Stop looking at you!!

“Loop burrito…” Echoes both the Fighter and the Kid. You want to disappear.

It’s a wonder you don’t move or say anything. Your body’s so rigid it hurts.

“Hah! I suppose that’s kinda cute.” Researcher. “Let’s not wake them up.”

“Oh!! Of course!!” Housemaiden. Footsteps again, retreating. Good. “They probably need the rest.”

You do!!! You do!!! Go away!!

…

…

…

Anyway.

They’re gone now. You still listen, because listening to them pacing around and talking is nicer than hearing your thoughts, and because it’s nice to listen and not have to contribute at all to the conversation, though… you try your best to tune out and ignore their words. Enough eavesdropping. That’s rude, shouldn’t become a habit. Not your party. Not your party. If you stay, then it’s best to make this as less awkward as possible.

…You…

…would like to still hear them talk. In a way.

Anyway. You should… sleep. Though. You don’t know if you could. Because since you slept so much earlier, sleep is eluding you, leaving you to deal with the aftermath and pain of all else it brings. You’re sore and in pain and annoyed, though pain is somewhat easy to ignore.

You wish you could get up and do something. But. But! The party’s still shuffling about, and if you left you’d probably do something very, very unreasonable, which you’d regret later, and that’s enough of that, isn’t it? Not many options left of what to do. Play with the strands of your blanket, perhaps. Hold your arms and rub them until you feel like all of this is real, another fun option.

...You wait.

Time passes. You think you might have still fallen asleep again, maybe. As it’s usual for now, a collection of things happen:

You get your consciousness back. You realize you’re still here, not dead. Still in that blasted clocktower. It’s dark, there’s no longer a crafted candle in the room with you, and it seems like everyone’s asleep. Steady rise and fall of several different people breathing, a soft snore occasionally, and…

One that stands out. A different, quicker, shaky, louder than the others. A sound accompanies it, too, distinct in the middle of the others and the soft snore you think might belong to the Fighter: a whimper. A breathless, broken up and shaken cry.

Oh. There’s only one person that could belong to.

Your Stardust.

You’re still woozy from sleep or whatever it was, so it takes you a while to properly react. First, comes confusion, doubt, then comes panic, then comes a variety of different thoughts, so many to choose from. Indignation. Surprise. Disbelief. A slight hope that this isn’t, actually, your Stardust. And then… Panic again. 

He’s being noisy. He’s– He’s probably having a nightmare. He’s gonna wake everyone. They’ll take care of them, they’ll–

They won’t understand. They won’t understand. How could they? They can’t know how this place warped in their mind, they can’t understand that even if they’re not looping anymore, that they’re still here, it’s familiar, it hurts, it’s horrible, and that this is one of the worst places they could be even after everything (perhaps it'd be loathsome to be here forever and ever).

…

You…

Wouldn’t want…

Before you can stop yourself, you’re up. You wobble out of your seat, out of your blanket, and saunter over to the room where the party is. Sure enough, there’s your Stardust, sitting up, it's hard to see anything that goes beyond your light, but– they look at you, fearful, teary eyed, and–

The Fighter wakes up before you can get to them.

“...Sif? Sif??”

Two people panicking isn’t ideal. It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter. There’s a panicking one here.  

“Sif, what’s wrong???”

And somehow the notion of it for your Stardust is worse. He starts to sob louder.

The others wake, too, and questions start being thrown, but, whatever, you don’t care, you need to be there.

You think someone utter your name in confusion. Ask what’s wrong. What you're doing. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Stars– everyone’s so close, you– you– can’t take it.

You kneel beside the bed.

“Stardust.” You say. “It’s me.”

He looks like he wants to say something, but the sobs wreck away any chance of actual words coming out. It’s alright. You know. You know.

“You’re in the clocktower,” you say, pointedly ignoring the questions and the steps that approach you. Everyone’s here, everyone’s here, they’re looking at you, they’re looking at you. It doesn’t matter. “Not in the House. Not in the same day. You’re out of the house.”

His eyes dart from you to everyone else. Lingers on the Fighter. He squirms, recoils into himself, arms hugging their frame, nails digging into the fabric of their nightclothes so hard it might tear and wow they better not you like those. Voices continue, and you ignore, ignore, ignore them. It doesn’t matter. 

“Out of the loops, Stardust. You will never have to be back there again.”

And. And. It’s hesitant. It’s horrible, this anticipation that comes with the action. This knowing of what else you could do to help, of what you both know what could be done to help– it worked before, it worked with you, it should work again, shouldn’t it?

It hurts.

It hurts. It hurts to see them like this. It hurts because it's horribly familiar and–

You extend a hand to touch him. Just between the crease of their glove and sleeve of the nightclothes. 

He flinches. Recoils even more into himself. A second or two passes.

Then you realize. That besides you and Stardust, there’s silence around the two of you.

He’s still sobbing. Wrenches out a noise towards you, as his eye darts in your direction again, scans the surrounding with the little light your star provides. 

“I’m here,” you answer. “I’m here.” Once more, “I’m here.” You wish you weren’t. You retreat your hand– this shouldn’t become a habit, it’s dangerous to keep doing this. “You’re out, and safe, and your family is here.”

That gets them, too.

Someone tells him to breathe. You wish they’d hold their hand.

Stardust shuffles a little closer to you, not quite touching. You stifle the urge to pull away.

He listens. You accompany.

Breathe in

and out

“...Siffrin, what happened??”

You can’t take this anymore.

“Don’t question them!” You all but shout. It’s a surprise to everyone, shifts the attention back to you and ah– ah, it’s hateful. The dam is broken. Words come rushing down, down, down, “Everything’s wrong because for some stars-awful reason you’re still in this place. And you!” Your hand points to the Fighter. He jumps. You hate it. You hate it. “You’re here. You’ve always been here, beside them.”

Why are you doing this?

“I’m– I’m sorry??” 

It’s not his fault, you know this. You know he, out of all people, doesn’t deserve the hurt you see in his features.

Sometimes… sometimes… You just feel… so much… anger.

You don’t answer.

“...It isn’t your fault, Isabeau.” The Researcher’s speaking now. “I assume this is something they’ve always done during the loops?” You do not like how she’s addressing you, while the Fighter makes way out of the bed for the Housemaiden to care for your Stardust.

You need to answer.

“...Yes.” 

Everything hurts. Everything in your non-body hurts because of how much you’re tensing.

And they’re all looking at you.

“Ah.” Researcher.

“What should we do, then?” The Kid. “I mean. Frin won’t tell us how to help them!!! We asked!!!”

“Boniface–”

why are they looking at you

“...It’s true, though.” Fighter. “How can we help them, if they won’t tell us how?”

He’s stupid. He is. You– You told them to talk to their family! Why didn’t they? They're out of the loops! They got what they wanted! They got everything they wanted, they got everything YOU wanted, so why in the blinding cosmos do they still not say anything? Are they so damn ungrateful that they'd throw it all away, that they’d render your existence meaningless yet again, is the universe so petty that they’d–

…

In

and out.

This… Isn’t about you.

it was never about you

Suddenly, you get up. Away from Stardust, despite the whine that comes out of his mouth– he’s mostly fine now, he can take it.

you can’t

You need to go.

“L-Loop?” The Housemaiden asks. “Can you tell us what to do?”

Hilarious. Hilarious. They’re asking, out of all people, out of everyone, while he's still here looking and listening, for your help.

as if you had anything else to give

But you don’t want to give it you want to go you want to leave you want them to stop looking at you and looking for something

“It’s clear that… despite our… wariness, of you” Why is the Researcher talking, why?! “You know about their time in the loops better. From what Siffrin says, you were there to help them, weren’t you?”

you wanted to be out of the loops you never asked for this you never wanted this you hate this you hate it all all you feel is anger all you feel 

is

anger

at it all

why can’t your stardust say something and save you tear you away from this let you go let you leave why

didn’t he–

didn’t he say you deserved it, too? why is this– this– in the list of things of what you deserve, why, why, why are you here why do you–

Tentatively… You nod.

“Remind him. That he’s out.” You sound so shaky. Figures. “A date could be good. And, for the love of the universe– get out of this place. He–” you– “can’t stand this place anymore. And… Fighter–” you don’t look at him you don’t want to look at him– “...avoid sleeping beside him, for now. It’s– it’s not you. You didn’t do anything. He doesn’t hate you” you could never hate him

“...Okay…” you don’t want to look at him you don’t you don’t you don’t

“O-okay!! Um, I’ll get you some water, Siffrin. Okay?” Housemaiden. “Then, then– We can leave, in the morning, how does that sound?”

You look at your Stardust. Seems he settled enough to murmur a quiet acknowledgement back at her. 

They’re all back at fawning over him, once it’s clear that he can take it.

…

…

As for you…

You… watch.

…

It’s fine.

At least, it should be. 

At least, you shouldn’t feel any of what you’re feeling right now, all of their ever watchful eyes no longer focused on you.

…

What is wrong with you?

You act as if you're receiving so much attention when in reality barely a thought is spared your way. You act as if being seen is the worst thing that could happen, and yet crave the thought of being seen so much that it hurts, accentuates the loneliness lodged deep within your being. You act as if what just happened is proof that you're receiving something you're not even deserving of, when reality and its facts make itself painfully visible to you: that you have nothing because you deserve nothing, that no one tries to deny because there was never any reason to do so, that you'll never be deserving of what you crave because you'll never be good enough for that. When are you ever? No matter how you try and try and try it's always the same, mediocrity in the form of a person.

Disgusting. Broken, rotten, failed imitation of a human that you are. A horrible little thing that, quite honestly, should just disappear for good. You're not needed. Never were. Here, right now, in this place, in this universe, you were never needed.

…

You realize you’re still standing there. Looking directly at your Stardust.

…

You want to hurt him.

A look is finally spared to you. Grateful. Full of many emotions that you can't have and that most importantly of all you don't deserve to have shown to you. 

"Thank you, Loop." Your Stardust says and so suddenly you feel the beginning of a deep and guttural scream lodge in your throat (?), seconds away from being let out because of some stupid thanks that you don't deserve never did never will. Doesn't he know? You're not doing this for them, no no you're cracking clawing inside to reveal your guts just as much as your Stardust is, but you can't show it you won't show it after all that'd be selfish of you and clearly you're not supposed to be selfish anymore no no no none of this was ever for you, was it now? Except it is, it is, you can't help it, surely it must be justified in a way, allowed somehow because how is it that you can take care of them if you're breaking down inside for much the same reasons? Selfish, selfish, selfish, you’ve always been so selfish, you’ll keep being selfish until this too is another thing that the universe will take away from you, as it should, as it should.

Ahaha, it must mean you're such a good actor for this, too, since Stardust does not comment on it, does not say anything, there's only his thanks and your silence and the look of the party and the seconds that stretch out and the rigidness of your body and the ugly ugly ugly disgusting feeling of having helped out of your own benefit and not because you care no no you couldn't care less for them you want to see them dead you want to sink claws into his chest claw away at his skin and open it up and then take what should've always been yours this entire time it is yours it is and it isn't and it beats and it doesn't you want them all to watch then then maybe then they'd see they'd understand not only Stardust but all of them all of these fakes you want to--

You...

Want to... do so many things. 

"Don't mention it," is what you settle on, hands clasped in front of where a mouth should be, eye closed so you don't have to see--

It. It doesn't matter.

There's silence from the party around you, but it doesn't matter if it's uncomfortable or whatever. You can feel them. Looking at you both. Their silence, so heavy and full of many implications and questions. 

You’re getting used to not getting anything that you want.

Chapter Text

Alright so you’re steadily getting tired of listing off the things that happen not because you don’t like to list off things, but because having stuff happen is so very tiring. Can’t they just stop happening for a while? Oh, ruh-oh, that’s not a very good thought, if you keep going down this road it’ll remind you too much of the King. Not good. Nope, nope, not something you want to dissect and over-analyze at the moment.

Anyway.

Come morning, you waste time away on your couch and on your blanket. Members of Stardust’s party come and go, and sometimes you almost catch them speaking about something with Stardust that seems very important. You’re once more in that state where things make sense while they also don’t and also you want to maybe die if you could feel anything past this fog of apathy, so very hard to make out what they’re talking about even if you wanted. It’s safe to assume they’re leaving, which, took them long enough!

You’re very happy when Stardust comes to inform you of said conclusion, still looking like a mess. Elated, even, to get up and pack up your now singular possession: the blanket. It's your blanket now, never giving it back, if Stardust complains sucks to be him (plus, as selfish as it sounds, you want to keep it for as long as the universe will let you).

You’re less happy to see the outside world– mainly Dormont. Damn this city and the entire world it sits on. You suppose you should be grateful for your general feelings being muted, as you’re traversing it in a completely different context. 

It’s a sunny day outside, a few clouds dotting the sky, the air carrying the scent of grass and only a tiny bit of cold, telltale sign of the approach of fall. Oh. Right. Seasons. A thing that exists. Hrm. You’ll get to see something other than summer. or will you, how long will they keep you?

It seems that people are still out partying, so all those familiar faces that long since became a blur to you are around; still people and that’s many more compared to the single one you’ve been seeing ever since getting stuck in the Favor Tree to become a Universe appointed sentinel for your Stardust behaviors. These, along with the general scenery, are things that you haven’t seen… in a while. You think. Hard to tell. Everything’s blurry and fuzzy and none of your memories feel quite real– thinking about the fact that you have memories in the first place is. Hateful and disgusting and makes you want to do unspeakable actions. Digressing. Back to the people. People nice. Looking happy about being unfrozen. Counterpoint: people. Not familiar with you. Which means they throw very weird looks at your form; it’s inevitable that they would, none of your party really wanted to sneak out of Dormont like anything other than the saviors of the country. Confirms you can be seen beyond the perception of the party. They’re tolerable when they’re just looking, less tolerable when they approach the Housemaiden to fawn over her, whispering still and asking what is it with this new addition to the party— you don’t hear that part whenever it happens. The worry of them making assumptions of what you are leaves you restless. Also: hateful. 

…

Okay, no people, then. Something else.

You see birds. They're a little fresher in your memory, birds liked to gather around the favor tree during the quiet moments of the loops, where you and Stardust would sit together in silence, or when Stardust was busy going through the house. The wildlife of Dormont being your only companions during these awfully boring times. Not very good conversation partners, those guys. Birds in Dormont were always a little bit bolder than birds anywhere else, fearless of the people and you alike. The critters looked more curious about the light you emit than anything else, sometimes approaching but quickly shooed away before they got any ideas. Cute…? You guess you have no particular opinion of them?? They’re just birds. You do know that you could like when they’d gather on the branches of the favor tree, chirping (peeou, peeou!) away happily until nightfall. Almost peaceful, if you ignored the fact that even their song was the same every single time.

…You start to feel dangerously close to being completely unreasonable again, so instead of focusing on your surroundings and this dreadful feeling of being watched, you focus on snooping on your Stardust again. You’re walking a few meters away from the party, enough distance so that you’re not invading their space neither feeling very much like you’re intruding. As for him, he’s awkward. Stuck between talking to their party and being generally weird, with things like not saying anything for long periods of time (when people approach them) and then trying to joke it out even though things are more than a tad awkward between them and their party since… well, you, happened. They’re anxious, having you around, and restless, with the knowledge that you’re the only person (?) that knows about the loops as much as your Stardust, thus know a little more how to deal with the possible problems Stardust’s gonna have. Sometimes, your Stardust and the party look back to check on you, perhaps to make sure that you haven’t run off yet.

You do want to run off a little bit. Bolt in a random direction and never go back. Maaaybe in the direction of that plantain (banana?) peel and have your final death be as hilarious as your existence ever since Stardust decided they wanted to keep you around. You desire this very, very much. Alas, you think they’d be sad if you weren’t here anymore the conversation of yesterday flashes into your mind and makes your skin (?) crawl, plus you think that the Universe is of course, not done with you, hahaha, when will it ever.

It would feel good to escape them for a while, even if not for the main desire that you cradle close to you; their presence, their voices, the sporadic attention, everything’s reaches a point of being terribly overwhelming. You wish you could still enjoy some time alone. At the point that you are, unfortunately trust over your actions is not something Stardust would feel comfortable on giving you, which, well, fair, actually. Can’t be trusted. Or maybe he would he’s kinder than you. What do you know? Either case, the idea of asking is mortifying, off the tables, you’ll just earn that trust eventually maybe never.

Digressing again. Your Stardust. Right.

He looked marginally better than yesterday, although still frazzled from his collection of recent maladies. Still walked slowly, making the party adjust their usual pace for him. Still had bags under his eyes. Still looked ready to pass out at any moment. Better than the breakdown from yesterday. 

It was funny to watch him blunder social interactions, a joke that didn’t land or suddenly being asked a question when his eyes looked far-off into the distance, thus needing them to repeat themselves. He’s so awkward. Way more than you ever were.

Of course, the party didn’t seem to mind. Were patient with them. Fighter specially, walking close to your Stardust despite what you said (doesn’t matter doesn’t matter doesn’t matter), what Stardust said. They fell back into their dynamic easily, nothing all that different from the usual except unbashed affection twinkling in his eyes and ah— that’s it, you can’t do this either.

…

…

Well! None of these things are helping you. Everything’s making you think too much, all about the wrong things. You know damn well where this metaphorical road leads. Out of all the things you could do today, so early, with everyone else so cheery (except you suppose for the party because you’re here and you being here ruins everything you always ruin everything), another breakdown is at the bottom of the list of sensible things to do. You’re selfish, yessir yes m’am that’s a well known rolled around fact on your stupid skull, but not enough to cause a scene outside.

Last option. The floor. You’ll look at the floor, your starry lightless feet, one foot in front of the other, and do just that until… Until…

…

When. When. When did everyone stop and set up tents? You’re. Uh. Confused. Zoned out too hard?

…

Whatever.

You quickly scan the area to find your Stardust aaand— there he is, sitting down in the grass while the Fighter’s fiddling with the final adjustments on his tent.

“…There’s still no need to stop because of me.” He is grumbling in a tiny voice, avoiding the gaze of the Fighter. “I’ll be fine.”

“No can’t do, buddy. No matter how many times you say it, it won’t erase the fact that you need to rest.”

“…But…”

“You’re not being a burden, if that’s what you’re worried about, Siffrin.” It’s the Researcher now, from the spot she’s sitting where the Kid and the Housemaiden are busy preparing for a fire. 

“Exactly!” Fighter cheerfully agrees, despite the resulting scowl from Stardust. “You’re not supposed to be straining yourself so soon.”

then why are we traveling, you want to ask, but— 

“…I would’ve been fine at the Clocktower.” He grumbles instead.

“…Sif. Siffarooni.” Fighter suddenly stops and looks at him, very serious. Oooh, an argument! How fun! “We both know that’s not true at all.”

“…Sorry.” Stardust grumbles again, retreating into their cloak. “I don’t want to hold any of you back.”

"We either travel like this or we don't travel at all."

"...mmfgfgghmm." Haha. "...Fine."

Very easy to read, still. Fighter knows of the other, underlying issue here.

“What did I say again, huh buddy? It’s alright, yesterday wasn’t your fault. I’m not mad.”

“None of us are mad at you, Siffrin!” Housemaiden adds. You want to scoff at that. 

“I’m only mad at Frin when they make bad jokes.” Kid adds in, smiling mischievously. Hey now.

“Hey! I’m a pun master!”

They giggle. 

“Your puns are acceptable sometimes.” Housemaiden agrees, though she’s giggling. 

“Ouch, not you too, Mira?!” Stardust makes a show out of the interaction, wiping away an invisible tear from their eye. 

“Afraid I’ll have to agree there, Siffrin.” Researcher. 

“What!! How could you!! Does nobody appreciate me?!”

“I do!” Fighter perks up. Ew.

“Ewwww,” Kid agrees with you. “Stop being weird, Za.”

Curiously enough, your Stardust reactions are to both blush and wince, only for a moment. It passes by without much thought. 

“Yes please, stop being weird, I’m getting second hand embarrassment, here.” 

“Why am I the target now?!”

“Cuz you deserve it, nobody wants to see all this lovey-dovey crab.”

“I think it’s cute!” Housemaiden.

“No. Jail.”

“Jail?! But why?! Loving too much?”

“No, for being too embarrassing. That’s disgusting.”

You grow tired of this, too. 

“I’ll have to agree there!” 

Stupid, stupid, stupid, why did you have to raise your voice and say something?! 

Now everyone’s looking at you!! Who’s just… there. Standing. And made things awkward!! Why couldn’t you just let everything play out, why, why? 

Quick, quick, do something, say something! Clasp your hands together in front of your non face, close your eyes, just—

“Oh, Loop!!” It’s the Housemaiden that addresses you. Stupid, you weren’t fast enough!!! “I’m…” She drops whatever she was gonna say with a scowl that quickly disappears from her features. You can imagine what it is. “We were wondering earlier, um… um… if you wanted… to discuss sleeping arrangements?”

If you— What.

“…What?” 

“Um, you know, we left in a hurry and didn’t get you a tent…”

“Oh! Hah, don’t worry about me, Housemaiden. I’m used to sleeping in the grass. It’s quite comfortable!” Only sometimes.

“We’re not leaving you to sleep in the cold.” Researcher. You want to run, you want to run, you— 

“Oh yeah!! Mira, is there some space with you and Bonbon?”

“No there isn’t! I don’t want to sleep with Za, he snores.” 

“Excuse me!! I do not snore!!”

“You do,” Stardust giggles. 

You’re. Um. What. What is happening.

“You can share with me then,” Researcher. That leaves the Kid and you alike stunned for words. Unlike the kid, you do not throw your arms to the sky and yell CRAB YEAH!!!

You just. Stand there. Confused.

“Mira, you’re okay with sharing with me?”

“Yes, but…”

“T-then!!!” Oh, it’s your stardust, saying that in a panic and— wait what. “Loop shares with me?”

Ew. You’d rather sleep on the grass. Also: what???

Unfortunately for him, that seems to shake up the Researcher and Housemaiden. They trade a look.

“I was gonna suggest Bonbon sleeps with the three of us or with Sif, but…” Fighter says.

“No way, Frin’s a blanket hogger. And you snore.”

“My poor feelings!!!” After a moment, “…But are you okay with that, Sif?”

No they’re not.

They slowly nod, after a beat. 

With the exception of perhaps the Kid, nobody seems to like this.

You feel like running all over again. The sensible thing to do, however: say something.

“…There’s no need to worry. I won’t try to kill your beloved Siffrin anymore~” though you oughta, for having to deal with this, for having to slip back into this persona. Unfortunately for you, this isn’t enough to appease the mood, you might have made it worse, hahaha! “After all, we’ve forgave each other, didn’t we?” Blind it all, you will drag him with you to make up for your situation. He nods. Still, still, still that’s not enough! They’re still looking at you with so much distrust! What do they want! “Plus, he’s my little cutie patootie! How could I ever hurt a hair on that cute little head?”

Why are you like this?!!

“Ew,” says the Kid. 

“Ew.” Says Stardust.

Housemaiden fails to stifle a giggle. Researcher looks done with it all (hey, you too!). Fighter has an unreadable look. You try not to feel too pleased about this.

“If Siffrin’s okay with it, I suppose that’s fine. If you’re traveling with us, Loop, then we should extend you a bit of trust.” 

“…You’re right, M’dame. I’m sorry, Loop.” 

“…I apologize, as well.”

“Yeah. Sorry, Loop.”

“Hmph. I guess…”

…huh? Apology? To you? 

…

What a joke.

“Come on now, there’s no need for that!” You don’t deserve it. “It’s understandable that you’re all wary of me. As I said, I won’t do anything.” But you want to. 

There’s more silence. You’re left questioning both your existence and the reason why your Stardust thinks it’s a good idea to not say anything, still.

“…As long as you’re nice to Frin.” Kid says, finally.

“I promise I will! Super duper promise, even!”

Sure you will. 

That serves to placate the Kid for the moment, though they do wear an expression of doubt. 

“Anyways~~ Now if you excuse me,” you’re going to throttle your copy until he passes out. 

…

You have no follow up for that. Haha! Look at them! How stupid! Can’t even finish sentences right. Haha!

…

Nobody prompts you to finish, so you don’t.

“It’s settled, then! Loop stays with Sif,” Fighter starts.

“AND I'LL STAY WITH DILE!!!”

“Why are you so excited for that…” Housemaiden.

“Because Dile NEVER wants to share! 

“She must have some secret!”

“That sounds stupid.” 

“You never know!!”

“A secret you say? Like her research?”

“No, an even BIGGER secret!” 

“You’ll have to find out.” Researcher plays along. 

“Oooh, if you’re lucky, you might even get a cuddle!”

“No, thanks.”

You want to die.

Fighter leaves your Stardust side, finally, so instead of committing an atrocity, you slide off from your perch to take his place. The party falls onto some inane conversation that you’re too tired to care or listen properly.

You face your Stardust, all smiles and cheer.

He looks apologetic.

“…Sorry.”

You’re quite tired of hearing apologies for a single day, thank you. 

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about a thing.”

A hum.

You want to run your hands through your non-face and hide there forever, unable to see anything.

You’re here now, but… you don’t… really feel like saying anything else, really. 

So you don’t. What does it matter anyway! You don’t have anything to talk about, not in front of the party anyway. Neither is your Stardust trying, so!

The two of you stay like that for a while. Listening to the party, you assume, while you sway your feet from side to side to distract yourself. Reminiscent of the less trauma inducing hangouts at the Favor Tree, when silence is all that stood between the two of you.

A little time passes. You’re revolving the interaction of just now in your head, picking away at everything you failed at. 

“I think I’m going to lay down,” they say, after a little. “‘M tired…”

“Sure” you feel like you should answer with something, so you do. “Go sleep.”

“Wake me up when it’s food time?”

“Absolutely not. That’s a you problem.”

“Ouch.” 

You feel a little bad for that. 

He deserves it.

You consider joining him to escape the party, but it’s early in the afternoon, still, and you do not really feel like getting up, nor making this any weirder than it has any right to. The party soon becomes white noise for your ears (?).

You let their words wash over you.

Stardust’s still asleep by the time said snack time comes. 

You’re somehow still sitting at the foot of their tent like a guard dog or something, after a while having switched from swaying your feet to hugging your knees, non-chin resting at the top of them to look at the party going about their business. You… don’t think you’ve fell asleep? Zoned out, probably, maybe, possibly, perhaps. Very hard to tell with the way your body’s sore, though for once not because you almost lost to your Stardust, but because you’ve spent stars know how long in the same position.

You think what brought you back is the shouting of the kid finishing to announce the food for the day, or maybe it’s the smell of food. How come you can smell? That’s cruel.

“AH!!! WAIT!!!” The kid's shout thankfully interrupt your thoughts as you grumble inwardly about the soreness. “DON'T START EATING YET!!!”

“Awww, why not?” Fighter complains.

“Oh! Why?” Housemaiden joins.

You catch yourself almost asking, too.

No need, as the Kid is approaching your direction and you think oh, yeah, they should wake your Stardust, probably a good idea. 

Instead, the Kid stops in front of you.

Your heart (?) stops.

All the confidence that they were showing earlier suddenly vanishes. 

“This is for you.” 

They’re holding an empty plate.

…Why?, but. You blink. Confused.

“…huh?” 

“So you can participate in food time, too.” They explain, like it’s so very simple. It isn’t. You can’t wrap your head around this. Why? The party, they— are watching. Concerned. Like they should be. Waiting to see what you’re gonna do. Tense, as if ready to attack you should you do anything to the kid (you would never).

“…Don’t waste your effort on me, Kid.” There’s no need. “Wake up Stardust instead. I’m sure they’re hungry.”

“You and your weird nicknames,” they grumble, and shakes the plate towards you anyway. “Don’t call me kid. I’m a preteen.”

“Right, yes, practically an adult already.” Pleased to agree, the little one.

“Frin's sick, so we’ve decided to let them sleep some more. I know you don’t need to eat like we do, but… it’s symbolic!” You’re so proud. They didn’t even need your help with the word (not that it's very hard, but you know how kids are. The thought is less about them and more about berating yourself). “So you can feel a part of snack time.”

You hear a gasp coming from someone out of the party. 

And they’re still looking expectantly at you.

…

You grab the plate.

“…Thank you.” 

But you don’t really want it.

“You can hold it until we’re done, cuz I’m gonna need that back later.” They turn around, and then shout: “OKAY YOU CAN EAT NOW!!!”

And run off.

You’re left with your thoughts and an empty plate.

…

You’re not feeling up to getting emotional over a plate, but. Not up to you to decide, apparently. 

You don’t want to see or hear the reaction of the rest of the party over this as they start to eat and talk, lest they sully this little moment you have.

It’s just a plate. Darkless. Made out of ceramic or glass, not one of those you could see your hand through it. It’s smooth to the touch, some places here and there with ridges and protuberances, signs of the many uses and many scrubbings it went through. Cold against your fingers. 

You wonder if they’d still have given you this plate, had Stardust not been asleep. You wonder if this was supposed to be the plate reserved for him, actually— although the party used to trust you to carry trinkets and knick-knacks around in your many pockets, you did not think they ever trusted you enough for the actual baggage. 

Reminds you of the business with the bowl.

Haha. Plate. 

Reminds you of a stack of them. Reminds you that you can't eat. Makes you want to hurl this across the forest and watch it break, marvel at the satisfying cracking sound it'd make, stare at the pieces. But the Kid gave it to you. It'd upset the snack leader. They're just trying their best, faced with a stranger they don't know and don't understand, fascination fueling their actions. It doesn't mean anything, because they're a kid. 

You think you hate this.

You cross your legs. Set it onto your lap, and shiver at the cold you feel for it, the knowledge that a shiver could still run somewhat satisfying.

After some time, you set it onto the grass beside you, and sigh.

It’s just a plate. This days a mess already. Why add onto it?

Later, when it’s time for bed, you consider actually sleeping on the grass outside and entirely refusing to enter the tent with a Stardust who’s turned it a bit earlier. This day was so, so tiring, even if you do not remember more than half of it. 

Pros of this consideration: you’d be free of Stardust.

Problems with this consideration: you run the risk of someone waking up before you and seeing you, and you do not want to deal with the resulting questioning that would bring. Your blanket would also be a problem, grass would get to it and make it gross, not to mention whatever critters would get into it and nooo, ew, ew, gross. No pillow, either.

You suppose such is your fate, your sin of existing too great, thus rendering you wholly unsalvable. Or maybe you’re far too tired to run off while Stardust can't do anything to stop you. Not like you think the party would go after you, if they noticed. Ugh. Thinking about the party invokes the memories of today, and, ugh, ugh, ugh, no.

You enter the tent without saying a word.

To your surprise, Stardust’s still awake. He looks better than last time you saw him, groggy with sleep while they ate and tried to pay attention to anything anyone said to them. Certainly more lucid than you. 

“Hi,” you say.

“Hi,” they say.

For a moment you stand there, unsure of what else to do, if anything at all.

“Can’t sleep?” You ask, to make conversation. 

“No.” They don’t elaborate. “Tired?”

“Very.”

They scoot over and oh so graciously pull the blanket so you can take it as well. You do so. Oooh, it is much more comfortable than the grass. Nice. Almost enough to make this whole thing worth it.

You close your eyes. No sleep comes. Bummer.

With the way Stardust keeps shuffling, you assume they suffer the same fate, though you don’t really care. It’s their problem.

"This is weird."

Is it?

"Tell me about it~" you don't really know. "Sleeping beside me, quite a weird metaphor to find there, don't you think?" Then you remember something. "You better not steal my blanket."

"Wha-- I'd never!!"

"No, you would, you horrible blanket thief! You'd leave me all alone in the cold!" To bring out your point to home, you pull the blanket a little closer. Laying down like this, you can't wrap yourself in it. "You should've seen the way you did the same with the Fighter! Horrible!"

That's a little mean. Why did you say that?

Whatever.

His eyes narrow back at you.

"...Aren't you also a blanket thief, then?" 

Uh-oh!

"No. I'm better than that."

"I think YOU'RE gonna leave me in the cold."

Yes. Yes you will.

"Whaaaat? I'd never!"

Harrumph back at you.

"Seriously, though. This is... Weird." 

Is it?

"Tell me about it~” Despite yourself, you can't really resist repeating the same lines, if only to get a rise out of your Stardust. Which works, by the way!!!! Even if he doesn't say anything. He's just too easy and fun to tease. "Really? What's weird about it? Considering all the things we've done, I'd put this on the slightly strange but normal category."

"No, I don't ... I guess that's not really all that I mean." 

"What, then?" Are you that disgusting to be around that not even yourself wants to?

"I'm... Used to sleep beside Isa." 

Of all the things they could say, this is the one that makes you snap: 

"Sure you are. So sure you had to cause a scene the second you realized you were still with him~ How embarrassing! If it wasn’t for me, you’d probably be causing yet another scene right now, wouldn’t you?” You can’t help it. You relish in the tremble of his limbs when he hears you. You can’t really stop. “By the way: how awful to say that the second I lay down, Stardust!! And after what I did for you? Terrible! Awful! My heart's in shambles." You let the facade fall. "Go and beg for his forgiveness, then. Maybe if you make a pretty enough face, he might let you back into his arms.”

"No!!!" Their voice raise a pinch, then he reminds himself. You know you shouldn’t have done this, but. Satisfying. "I'm sorry." Whatever. "I just mean... That this. Not being in Dormont, is weird."

Ahh. Okay. Communication. An effort is being made here, unlike you.

You don't like this conversation anymore.

"I... I suppose so." 

"I keep expecting to be back. Or, I... Things get too much, too fast, then too little the next moment... Is it weird that I want to be back, in a way?” Yes. Extremely. You want to punch him. “Not... Not really. But. It was... Comfortable." 

You want to be mad at him for saying it. You do.

But… you relate, in a way. At least in the loops you knew exactly what to expect, exactly what to say, exactly what expression to wear. Anything that's familiar, no matter how horrible, starts to have its own sense of twisted comfort after a while.

"It's not the loops that you miss." You say, in lieu of making another evil comment. "It's the comfort of knowing what to expect."

"I guess... I say this, but... I don’t actually want to go back. I can't do this again."

Which is why he must feel guilty telling you. Like he should.

"Better not. If you do I might strangle you for real."

Ooh, he didn't like that. It's true though~

They got here. You won’t let them throw it away. Even if you feel like you might go insane if you have to deal with anything new again. Either they accept this ending they chose, or you’ll tear it apart from him.

"...What about you? Are you doing okay?"

"Just peachy~" Might obliterate him after. Who knows!

"...Loop." They know. Ugh. Can you sign out of this doppelganger business? He should've never figured it out. "You can tell me. You... Should... Tell me." Talking about feelings should go for the both of you now, should it?

"Why? There's nothing to tell you." And why would you anyway? Soooo, Stardust, I'm mad at you and I feel like shit third wheeling your party! I'm still mad at you! Positively seething! What solutions would he have? None. Damn that’s crazy, can't leave though. Never ever ever ever never. Stay and suffer.

No. Telling him what you feel wouldn't make a difference.

...Could this conversation shift back to him? You don't like this. 

...

...

...

"Okay. I won't force you to talk." You take that as a threat.

Stardust's still restless and uncomfortable, so you sigh.

"Anyway!!! You're not going to loop back. It's been, what, a day? Two days?" As if you knew. "And I'm not the Fighter. And this isn't the Clocktower. Or Dormont."

"I know. Still..." 

Still.

"Um. I feel bad. Bonnie could be with their sister already, but..." 

"You literally almost broke the world." You deadpan. Stupid much?

"Yeah but...!!!" 

"Your allies are not gonna throw you into the nearest ditch because you need to rest away from overly familiar things." You, they might. "It's fiiine. Stop being silly." A frankly cute noise escapes Stardust. You want to giggle. He is still very fun to tease. "Are we settled now?" 

"Mhm. Thank you."

Genuine thanks?? Gross. 

You don't answer.

He shuffles. You think this might be it and you can rest, but. Not yet.

...Ah.

You've dreaded this moment.

You're not even sure why-- actually, you are, you shouldn't dance around yet another obvious issue and pretend you don't know when in fact you very well do. 

It's because Stardust's greedy. So very greedy, in the way that he shifts in bed beneath the blanket (your blanket), twiddles his thumb, looks up at the soft light you emit, bite his lip, all awkward with the way he obviously wants to ask something. You've dreaded it, because you knew this would happen, sooner or later.

Ah, this is your fault, isn’t it.

You knew you shouldn't have pushed things as much as you did. You knew there could have been other ways to calm down Stardust other than touch, you knew this very well you know how he works you know how starved he is for something, you know!!! It was dangerous, you warned yourself, didn’t you? 

and. and. and yet.

You're greedy, too.

You've wanted to feel something. You wanted to be touched in some way, even if you don't deserve it even if it's by a version of yourself, even if it sounds and it looks and it is all kinds of fucked up to offer and receive touch from what's essentially your clone.

You're disgusting. Horrible, pathethic thing. Nothing but a selfish husk of a person who only knows how to take, take and take until there's either nothing left or the universe rips it away from you.

You want to be touched. You want it! It's been so long, it's so long since you had anything, so long since anything felt remotely real! And your stardust, he-- he got what they wanted! Your perfect ending! A life out of the loops! The love of their family! Touch! They're allowed to touch and to be touched and they're allowed to ask while you, you're just a stranger, a nobody who just watches from the sidelines and hurts because that's what you deserve, to watch but not have. You won't have the Fighter's hand on your shoulder. You won't have the Housemaiden brush your hair or hold your hand. You won't have the Kid's hugs. You won't have the Researcher ruffle your hair because that's not even something you have anymore--!!

...But you want it. You’re desperate, aren’t you? You want to be touched so bad and you want to be held and you want your hair played with and if that's going to have to come from your Stardust, then can't you?! Can't you have it?! Can't you be selfish? Can’t you be disgusting and accept it? If you don't, if you don't, then you don't think you can do this you don't think you can be around a party that isn't yours you don't think you can spend a single second without exploding you–

He’s horrible, just as much as you were. He did it too. You could’ve been fine, come down from many of your pity parties without being touched, you did so so many times before. Or the knowledge that any of that happened. Another thing you could’ve gone without. Why desire touch from you? Is it because you’re the nearest person? You’re disgusting. Not loved. They have options. Their party would be oh so happy to give them a hug or two. It didn’t have to be you.

…

But you’re reminded of how warm his hands felt against your face. Of the hand that held yours, real warmth seeping off of it and feeding onto you even through the thing barrier of their gloves. you’re reminded how fast their heart beat while your hands squeezed

"Oh, come on now" you end up saying. "What is it?" They're offended. "You clearly want to say something."

"...um. W-Would you..."

hold him? No. Yes. Maybe. You don't know. 

"...Nevermind. It's nothing."

You should leave it at that. You know you should.

But.

"Nuh-uh, what did I say about telling people how you feel?"

He makes a noise.  You're patient. You shouldn’t.

"...Would you hold my hand?"

It's tamer than you expected. You figured he'd ask to cuddle or something, to get so close it'd be uncomfortable, to mold you both onto themself until none of you could tell if you ever had any differences.

"Just, um, just until I fall asleep! I ah, um" 

Stars, he's pathetic so are you. You roll your eyes.

"...Okay." Yet your answers comes with an unnatural hesitance that you don't want to hear.

Stunned the poor creature. Lost in their embarrassment. You cannot believe this is the same guy who defeated the king as if he was nothing.

...He brings out his hand, hesitantly.

Many moments pass before you do anything. You stare as if he's alien. Might as well.

This is dangerous, your mind chants back at you. You shouldn't do this. You shouldn't. You don't deserve this. 

You... Take it.

He flinches. 

You know why.

It stings regardless.

You breathe in…

And out…

And let him wrap his finger around yours, looking at you from time to time to gauge your reaction. They slot perfectly against yours. Like a mirror.

It’s warm. He’s gloveless today, now that you really look at it.

Tentatively… you use your thumb to run through his skin. You mimic the timid way in which your Stardust looked at you earlier. Finger glides through skin, slightly trembly, a touch too timid, a cinch too delicate to be called an action of comfort.

Prepared for touch this time, no flinching or such occurs, only a ever so whispery sigh on his part. 

Twin eye considers you. You hate that you know exactly what’s going through their mind, the intricacies of his, all the different scenarios you’ve imagined, you suppose all of that time swimming in your grief must’ve been worth for something.

None of you say anything. It’s too awkward of a situation, too fragile of a moment to give space for words to ruin it. 

This is dangerous. 

You shouldn’t let it happen. You don’t deserve it. The chant of warnings continue its wicked hymn.

You keep moving your thumb over his hand. He squeezes your hand harder, sometimes, and if that doesn’t feel nice and does things to you, you don’t know anything anymore.

It’s dangerous and you have a sneaking suspicion it’s already far too late to stop the course of this particular brand of malicious corruption.

You watch as Stardust lets tiredness covers their features. Falls into a deep sleep, still holding your hand.

Hours later, you still haven’t let go.

You dream you were being held. 

Come to morrow, you’re analyzing the intricacies of the circumstances that led you to this moment. A wish on a favorite leaf. Despair accompanying your every step, dragging yourself into a future that you didn’t even believe it could ever exist. The things you’ve done, the things done to you, the realizations you’ve found during the echoes that your steps and turning of pages would make in the lonelier rooms of the house, its sounds reverberating to the walls and back into your skull as a twisted version of what it initially was. Memories that you didn’t have. Memories that you had. Memories that you chose to let go. Apathy. The slow build of something deep inside your belly, curling through your guts and clenching you as it festered. The concept of what you are gone from this world, leaving only the rotting of a body moving on autopilot. The way this oily, slimy corruption grew within you, climbed upon you and made you choke on your own words as you uttered what you, despite it all, didn’t hope was your last wish, because survival demanded you to live even if you wanted everything to come crashing down on you.

The star that descended from a metaphorical sky. Warm, fizzly, electricity in your hands. How beautiful it was. How it, too, tasted like ash, cloyed with sugar. Hurt your throat so bad it made you want to scream, yell, wail, all these things that you did as all that you were exploded.

At that moment, you accepted death. Welcomed it, even. 

And then, horrified at yourself and your thoughts, buried these feelings yet again, because despite everything, despite it all, there was something that still tethered you to this Universe; chained you within and caged your heart and all that you were here.

You exploded. Into many little shades you went, all the ones you knew and the ones that you didn’t. What you were melted into blood and seeped onto the universe, it drank of you as you feasted on it. Into light you were taken, and into light you were molded. A piece of the night sky etched on your body, as a reminder of what you took with you and what would one day be returned, whether by your death or when the universe becomes bored of your existence. And as your body were stitched into light and the horrible taste of sugar remained in your mouth, the universe picked you up and threw you down onto the earth again to fulfill your own wish. Because the universe never granted anyone anything without a catch— because what meaning would anything have if it was simply given? If you wanted something, then you’d have to work for it.  If you wanted something, then you had to show the universe that you were worthy of such.

The descent. A tree above you. Knowledge of things you shouldn’t have, your brain rewired by the whims of an amoral entity. The sight, of not yourself looking up at the same sky with the same clouds in the same pattern every damn time, but of someone else.

When you exploded, you scattered, and from your dust another you emerged. A little universe you became, with a creation so wicked that not even you would forgive you for this awful sin you’ve committed. You look back at yourself, contemplate your own features. Watch the beginning of things, everything that you forgot, the first lines on that fateful day you uttered. Watched a copy of yourself whisper a wish into the very same leaf, heard the thoughts they said as they did so, repeated with them; You wish… to visit more places with Mirabelle. You’d like to continue traveling with her, and see her get even more comfortable expressing herself. You want to stay with them. Words whispered with so much love behind them, that the universe knew exactly who it belonged to. The thoughts that damned you. As you watched, as you wondered, you almost wanted to stop them, almost wanted to tell your Stardust not to do this, but like everything and every time you did nothing instead, watched them go.

How naive they looked. How happy they looked. How miserable they were inside, without knowing. How fascinating the light of his heart were, unaware of anything that would await them, both their fault and not their fault at all. Their face devoid of any of the horrors that sure enough would slither into them and turn them until what you now were: a ghost doomed to wander forever, in search of a future they didn’t believe in.

You saw the Clocktower again and felt nothing.

You saw the House again and felt nothing.

Was this the result of your wish? To watch, and do nothing? Watch it start again (start again start again) from the perspective of a third party, contemplate your mistakes from the comfort of the tree? Regain your memories lost and put sense back to them, until so many loops have passed much the same way that all meaning would be lost again? 

You considered not helping. You considered remaining there, watching. As you found out, there was absolutely nothing stopping you from doing so. But you thought: I deserve to suffer more for what I did, and you thought: He does not deserve this, and faced with the possibility of changing your fate, you appeared before your Stardust.

Because… shouldn’t they have help, at the very least? At this point in time, you were still clean of your sins. A clean slate. Broken and ever so close to being a carcass, yet salvageable, if only someone could’ve been there to tell them what to do, to remind them of everything they’d inevitably miss due to thinking it wasn’t relevant for their quest. They still had a chance to repent. And, maybe, maybe, if you were good enough on your role, maybe the same grace could be extended to you. The universe would see you, judge you, and pull you back to a place where you could fix things, all these mistakes you’ve made.

He loved. He wanted to be loved back.

You love them, and you want to be loved back. 

You gave up all that you were to be here. 

You wanted and you wanted and you felt your own want echo around your non existent skull, a staccato of the syllables that contained a simple desire. One word, two syllables, eternal repetition.

What kind of life is this, to watch the actions of your own haunted twin? That you could see them separate of oneself, live again through their actions, mold what you wanted and still think of them as real, yet so utterly false? This is who you have been, this is who you could be, this is how wicked and wretched you’ll become. This is what you thought, and this is what you will think. Should that repeat yet again?

The universe told you: you are a mistake. And this is a mirror that you can peer and reflect back onto, watch exactly where you went wrong. 

But… you didn’t want that. You didn’t want that for them. As selfish as it was to think of yourself as some kind of celestial creature holding divine power, and as much fascination and anger at everything that comprised this universe that you were, you still thought that he deserved a chance to be more than just dust out of an explosion. That he could look at a mirror, and think twice about his actions, that he didn’t have to be alone, and that all this anger, guilt and contempt that billowed within could have another direction other than themselves.

You wanted to save them.

And so you did.

And so you regretted.

And so what you had inside of you exploded again. 

As always, inaction is the definition of what you are. You could not finish your job. Not after seeing them work so hard. Not after seeing them get what they wanted. (It’s so easy to extend kindness to someone else) The sweetness he still had. 

And then, after it all, after everything, he took your hand. Uttered kind words. Said things you didn’t want and still don’t want to repeat or consider. Wanted to keep you, even when you didn’t deserve it. He grabbed your hand and led you to the unknown of a future you feared you would never have.

Which one of these was the catalyst for this very moment?

His hand on yours. Squeezing even in his sleep. Their eyes, not trembling with nightmares, but still and calm as the very world around you.

You’re the one with a piece of the universe sewed into your body, but you’re starting to think that the universe might be them. How could it not? Everything bends to his will. It feels stupid to contemplate him so piously, but you can’t help it: you’re here because he wanted you to, aren’t you? You’re here because he can’t let go of anything, can’t grasp the true concept of change, the newness and destruction that it means. Can’t bring himself to let go of a part of him, even if this part of him hurt him countless times and would continue to hurt them countless more, after all you are a mistake and all that you know to do is slice and maim and tear. You’ll make him bleed, you’ll make their party bleed, you’ll hurt everyone around you and you will wish for them to never see you at all ever and you will still desire to be loved. And still he won’t let go, and thus never truly change because Stardust cannot destroy you nor let you fade away into oblivion as you always should have been.

He’s selfish. 

Because what else did they have?

You’re selfish.

What else do you have?

Nothing. You have nothing but the hand wrapped on yours. 

However,

In this moment

You are alive.

You’re alive as you feel them cling so tightly, and in their sleep refuse to let go even as they wince in his sleep from the pain he’ll surely have to deal with come afternoon, as you indulge in touching their skin for as long as they’ll let you. You’re alive as you notice them relax with a particular soothing motion of your thumb, alive and feeling and real as you contemplate the callouses of their hands and the details that make their skin, so similar yet so different than yours.

And, still, as the battered, rotted and scarred carcass of your body, no, as the ghost that you are reflects on all these little unimportant little things that comprise you, you still want.

There’s many parallels to be made of your situation, but you grow tired of digging at long buried corpses. What else is there to find on the remains and the shards that you’ve left of your memories? At the very least, there is this: that you are nothing but your mistakes because you cannot remember anything past them, and if you cannot remember a past before you knew a crumb of love, then you must be nothing and thus deserving of nothing. How can a person with so many mistakes under their belt ever be deserving of anything?

Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?

Chapter Text

Turns out: No, you are not. You will relish this moment for as long as you can. You will be stupid and cheesy and whatever other words are fitting to describe the nonsense that you’ve been spewing in the last few hours, during stupid contemplations of what you’ve done and what you are.

It doesn’t matter. It’s easy to extend kindness to someone with sins so much different than yours, with someone that despite everything and all of their mistakes is still capable of being loved. A mirror you both might have been when this started, but not anymore: who you’re looking at is no longer your reflection or your twin but the one that can do better, even if he stumbles along the way. He deserves to be something other than the mess that you are.

You should start getting used to being a martyr for your Stardust, huh? What a thought. Quickly thrown to the side, begone, shoo, never come back.

…All this thinking is probably not good for you, actually. You’re going into even more nonsense now, you’re being weird and you’re being awkward, and frankly all that you really want in this moment is to continue to hold their hand and hopefully not think of anything else, lest you end up believing any of that stupid crap you’ve been thinking. Here are the facts: this is still you. Your Stardust is just as wicked as you are. You’re still looking at a mirror. Both of you are awful little things that can only remember their mistakes, except he got what he wanted in considerably less time than you did (hateful, still makes you want to punch him, honestly). You were just feeling more contemplative than normal. It’s not because you thought of things that it means that they’re real, no?

Good thing thoughts are just that: thoughts. He never has to hear them. If you’re lucky, neither will you.

Anyway. Despite your traitorous mind, this is nice. you wish he’d never wake up

…Ahaha, wow. Woke up in one of those moods, huh?

You supposed that feeling real comes with the unfortunate side effect of giving substance to horrible little thoughts and letting them be actual things with meaning. You suppose you hate this.

Here are more facts: You still hate your Stardust. You still think you should’ve been in their place and that none of this is fair, it could never be fair, it’s such a comedy. You still think your non disappearance here is his fault, but. You are not so self-centered as to believe he is a literal part of the universe nor the thing itself and thus the reason for everything in the whole world to happen, good and bad and neutral and whatever else. You’re just selfish and desperate and wanting something and since he gave it to you, you keep pondering and wondering until you got tired of your many nonsenses. How selfish of a mood do you need to be in to think that another version of you is the culprit of both love and hate? Can’t you think of anyone else for a change? You ought to!

And speaking of others: you want to die, actually! Not deal with any of this! This party of theirs is too close to yours, even if they’re fakes, and if this notion doesn’t scare you, then you don’t know what else could ever scare you in your life anymore, perhaps the questions that they’ll keep throwing at you eventually. If you keep going down this path that Stardust’s leading you to, then… then…

Something might follow. And not a something that is just the twisted idea of what you are. Something much more sinister.

Hmm.

Anyway.

You’re still here and you’re feeling things you didn’t want to because of a stupid wish your Stardust made.

Still alive.

Still whole.

Hahaha. How funny. Are you having fun, universe? Are you having fun, Change God? When any of them take this small comfort of a hand wrapped in yours away, too? Will they revel in the despair it will leave you, when it inevitably happens? You hope they do. You hope you’re at least worth enough for their entertainment.

…Stop thinking. Stop ruining everything. You only know how to ruin things. Stop it. Stop it!

…

…

…

Uh-oh.

They’re waking up.

The party, you mean. Which means that the noise might wake up your Stardust, too. Oh no. Oooh, but he might look at how you two are still being embarrassing and have a meltdown. That’d be sooo funny. Now you do hope they’ll wake up!

You wait a little while and mentally brace yourself for it. You feel a squeeze or two of your hand, a sigh, and suddenly, suddenly, you feel something wrong with yourself and this situation. A blackness that creeps over your form and tells you that, whatever this is, you still should end it, before it gets out of control. You know you should. You know.

…

You hesitate. This is nice. You…

…

Slowly, slowly…

You let go of his hand.

And do not mourn the loss of it.

Just in time to hear the voice of the Kid outside, calling:

“Frin, Loop, are you two up yet?” 

And the voice of someone else: “Bonnie! Don’t wake them up yet! Frin still needs to rest!”

“Sorry!” distant, now. They start to talk about something else, and you don’t think you care enough to listen too closely.

Damage is already done. Stardust grumbles in a rather tiny way, trembles for a moment, and then opens their eye. 

“Mhm…” 

You watch him stretch. Distract yourself with the minute movements of him, as he rolls around and gets themselves comfortable. You hold the distant urge to cringe, as flashes of your thoughts from yesterday come back to your mind. Ugh, ugh, ugh, why. This is supposed to be a nice morning! Why are you already being this difficult?

“Oh, hi.” They say, thankfully, and for a moment it does distract you. 

“Hi.” 

Then silence. Stardust finishes stretching.

The longer the silence carries, the more awkward you feel.

“No good mornings?” 

Stardust pouts. You roll your eyes. “No, you’re mean to me.” He looks like he’s about to say something else, but soon enough his slow morning brain registers the world around him. “Oh.” Yes. They're awake.

“You should go and talk to your party. Maybe eat something, while you’re at it.”

“Yeah. Join me?”

“I’d rather not. Maybe I’ll sleep a little more.”

Even with such a tired brain, Stardust raises a questioning eyebrow at you. He does not ask, and that’s that for the moment.

“Kay. I’ll see you later, then.”

He snatches his cloak. You watch him put it on, hear the clicks of the pins clasp together. Then you close your eyes.

Truth is… You still don’t feel quite as ready to get up and face the party. It’s just… too much, all at once, happening right now, many many things that you do not want to face or think about. You will, eventually, once you trust yourself enough to do so, which is not right now, quite unfortunately. When would it be the right time? Maybe never? Maybe the ground would split up and swallow you along with the memories of who you were and then mercy would be granted on your poor restless soul? Maybe.

…

None of this happens. The universe is silent, the party starts to chat outside, happy to see your Stardust. Not a question is uttered about your whereabouts and good doings. You’re fine with that. 

Sleep continues to elude you, as you try to do just so to escape the thoughts and the possibilities of what you have to face. You don’t want to face their questions. You don’t want to see the way they’ll clearly get uncomfortable as you approach. You don’t want to do anything but bury yourself beneath your blankets, until nobody ever and ever can ever see you again.

…

Okay. Okay. Calm down. You'll be fine. You'll be fine. If you breathe and stop for a moment to truly see everything, then you’ll be okay, things will settle, you’ll realize how stupid you were to have worried at all. There is nothing happening. Nothing at all. You’re at the tent. Stardust is outside, their party is outside, and literally nothing yet have happened to count as a social blunder that would haunt your days until the rest of your life. Stardust didn’t mention the hand thing, didn’t notice that you’ve kept holding it, so you didn’t have to explain anything about that, either.

So…

Why are you freaking out?

Why can’t you stop thinking?

…Breathe. The motions of it. Suck in air that you cannot feel, expand a chest where a carved star for a heart is. Lungs would feel with oxygen. Then out; chest releases, pushing the air out from your belly.

In and out. In and out. In and…

Aren’t you simply the stupidest thing alive? There is nothing, nothing, nothing happening to justify this. You woke up happy. Everything was fine. What kind of person does this? You’re a sham. Can’t even be happy right. Can’t even bury the stupid little thoughts that resurfaces every so often in your mind, a thing you’re certainly a master of.

You’re trembling. Shaking like a newborn calf and you don’t even know why. Thinking of far too many things and you can’t even pinpoint the reason. 

Why were you happy anyway? Have you atoned for your sins during your sleep, perhaps? Last time you checked, no, perhaps you just made them worse, scaring away the party like that. Is there a reason why you’re happy, even a good one to begin with? There isn’t. Once again, you’re acting like you have something you don’t have, running away from the metaphorical attention that you contradict yourself in every non-breath that your inhuman corrupted body lets out, desiring a non-existent thing so much that it hurts. A crumb is enough to have you skip your step and start hoping again. Desperate, aren’t you? You’re so stupid and pathetic.

You know you don’t deserve anything. You know you don’t deserve anything. You know that any pain that comes your way is, at the very least, warranted, deserved. You want to take it all back. You want to leave. Dissolve. Maybe you should just die. All you bring is a burden. All you do is corrupt. Your very touch sully everything it comes in contact with. You can't do anything right. Not even your role can be done right.

And you can’t leave, can you? Can't abandon yourself. Can’t–

It’s getting too much. Everything’s getting so much. You don’t want to think anymore. If- If– If you had your dagger… oh, the very thought shivers you to your core, what else is new, what else can you do but be forced to see all the unwanted associations the weapon now has for you. Still, the slit of your throat or your wrist or your arms and the flowing of your blood (if you even have any at this point) would ease this suffering a little bit, give you something else to look upon. Or maybe you could just pick up that dagger and play around with it, something familiar to have, feel its weight in your hands as you think of the stars you would’ve made in your skin. Would they be added to the collection of stars you already have? Or, maybe, with both of your hands, you’d hold it in front of your non-existent belly, let it tremble as you consider the implications of ending your life right then and there. What little your existence’s meaning would leave in this world. Only Stardust would be sad with your departure, pretty sure, because he’s sweet like that, but anyone else? The party would be marginally sad as well, mainly on behalf of the grief Stardust would experience, because they care for them and love them, none of that love directed to you. Eventually, eventually, they’d forget you. Stardust would move past you. Have you anyone else that would mourn you? Anyone to remember your existence?

You don't want to think anymore.

But your mind screams and screams and screams at you, flashes of disconnected memories, flashes of pain, and all you can think of is the corruption, the simmering, the deep blackness inside of you that before long would climb up to your nonexistent throat it would carve a way out of you and reveal the ugliness within.

You are still the same awful person that you were yesterday. You have not changed in the slightest. If you Stardust was the promise of a future, then you were stagnation, clinging to a past that no longer exists and might not ever exist if you leave.

And that's it, isn't it? You’re scared of what would happen if you died. No, not even scared of the possibility of looping back, of repeating these same days with your Stardust, of repeating the grueling task of watching as he walks to the house while you steadily and painfully realize that the solution is far simpler than either of you ever thought it would be. You’re not scared of walking back into your personal hell of repeating the same days over and over and over again until it’s been practiced to perfection, until you’ve found the best version of yourself that your friends could love. You’re not scared of dying to the King again, of contemplating in which way you should die this time, or getting the Researcher your Researcher so suspicious of you and your actions (but you wanted her to, deep down you’ve always wanted her to see you) that she’d ask, that you’d be cornered back to a metaphorical wall until they got something out of you. You're not scared of any of that, ahaha!! You stopped caring long, long ago.

What you dread is entirely a whole other can of worms: that after you died, nothing would be waiting for you on whatever other side exists after your life. That you would be nothing. Not a star, not a watcher, not a burden, not in a purgatory created by your own hands and own selfish wishes, not anything.

You want to cling to what little remains of yourself.

Is this survival telling you to live, despite it all?

You grip your arms around yourself. You let your nails dig in with all the force you have. 

You wish you could bleed (can you?). 

Maybe if you felt pain, then that’d ground you and it’d stop it all and you’d feel more like a functional human being (?) again. Ahaha. Haha.

Literally why are you thinking about any of this? Because you don’t want to get up and pretend you can be part of a conversation that you should never be watching to begin with? Yes. Yes, actually, that’s it. You don’t want to talk. It’s so much work. But you have to. You know you have to. Eventually time will tick by and they’ll realize that you’re here, shaking, trembling, unable to do the motions of breathing, gripping at your arms and bundled beneath a fuzzy blanket (that’s yours that’s yours it’s yours no one else’s please—) as if any of those stupid actions will ever be enough to replace the comfort of your cloak wrapped around you, a cloak you no longer have it stays with Stardust instead, because he gets to keep everything and you, you don’t.

And then they’ll see you. And it will be worse. And—

…

An hour or a minute or a week passes. Your meltdown comes to a close without ceremony. Nobody comes to check up on you.

Hm.

Back to the stage.

“Loop! You’re up!” It's Stardust that greets you. He’s sitting at the center of the remains of a campfire, beside the Housemaiden, who’s beside the Fighter.

“That I am!” 

You don’t know what they’re talking about. 

“You almost missed breakfast.” The Kid grumbles your way, earning a look from the Researcher. 

“Boniface.”

“I know, I know!”

…Huh.

You wonder what’s that about.

Anyway. Things happen. You don’t care too much about them. 

You feel a little out of place. Best not to dwell on that feeling, it’s been less than the full day (perhaps) and it’s already enough to not make you want to repeat any unexplainable meltdowns.

Your Stardust pats the empty space beside him. Might as well.

Conversation picks up again from whenever it is they left it. You hum internally to yourself, and let their words wash over you. You think you hear a thing or two about the plans on what to do later, and Stardust grumbling about it, still annoyed and thinking that they’re a burden or something. You don’t really care. 

“What do you think, Loop?”

…Or you suppose you should. The Housemaiden is addressing you. You blink up at her. 

“Apologies, I didn’t quite catch that.” You clap your hands together, plastering up a cheery smile on your non-face. Everything slowly comes back into focus, and you can see how the response has shaken up the Housemaiden and the party. 

You don’t care.

Hesitation dons her features.

“Oh, um, no problem…” it does sound like a problem. “We were asking if you were okay with us resuming traveling for a bit tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?!” Stardust. “Why wait that long?”

“You still need to rest, Siffrin!”

“But I feel fine.”

“Doesn’t mean you should resume activities normally.” Fighter. 

“Gotta rest, Frin.” Kid.

“Plus! From what the Head Housemaiden told me, you’ll get tired more easily, so we shouldn’t push you.”

Stardust grumbles, retreating more into their cloak. You understand. It’s odd to be smothered like this.

“How awful. The traveling one does not want to be loved.” Researcher. Stardust gets worse. It is pretty funny to watch, you’ll give her that. 

Unfortunately, this does not mean that the Housemaiden lets you out of her sights. So sad.

“…Anyway. Is that okay with you, Loop?”

“You shouldn’t worry about me, Housemaiden.” Your opinion doesn’t matter, anyway. “Do whatever you want.”

That seems to shake her. Truly unfortunate, you even made sure to add some cadence to your response. Seems like you made things awkward again. They’re all staring at you.

You don’t say anything.

“Okay, but what are we going to do?” Stardust cuts off the silence for you. “It’s gotta be pretty boring for Bonbon.”

“Oh I wouldn't worry about that. Bonbon has plenty of mysterious plans, right?”

“Of course, I have a lot going on!” 

“We could roast marshmallows and go camping!” Housemaiden adds. That sounds nice, actually. “And share scary stories at night!”

“I like that idea.” Researcher. 

“I have so many to share!!!” Housemaiden’s getting excited. “Now that we don’t have to worry about saving the country anymore, we can take the time to do whatever we want!”

The conversation continues. 

Eventually…

“I’ve been curious about something”, or something of the sorts is said when you get your awareness back. “Loop?”

“Yes?” You do not take any time at all to answer. You do, however, wonder what is it that they want. Have you gotten so distracted you missed something important being said again or something? Also: when will they leave you alone?

It’s the Researcher speaking.

“I’ve noticed your way of referring to us is very peculiar.”…Ah. “Is there any reason you prefer to use titles, rather than names?” 

While she says this, you notice it’s still sunny outside. And that Stardust is still beside you. Probably not a lot of time passed since last time your mind was here, then.

“Oh!! That’s right!” Housemaiden.

“You’re right M’dame!” Fighter. Haha. Kinda funny.

You consider just not answering. But the Researcher’s looking at you.

“I believe you call me… The Researcher. Somewhat apt.”

“You’re not researching anything though!” Kid.

You know.

Researcher shrugs.

“Then we have Fighter for Isabeau.”

“That’s me!” 

“Housemaiden for Mirabelle…”

“Um. I guess that fits…” She looks troubled.

“Kid for Boniface…”

“I don’t like that one. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“So old, so wise.” Stardust nods. He seems curious, as well. 

“And, of course, Stardust for Siffrin.” You shrug at her. This line of questioning is getting increasingly uncomfortable, however. Reminds you of something. “I’d guess Traveler for me or him, not Stardust.”

You shift your weight to another side. You could explain it, but. You shrug again. 

They keep looking at you.

“It’s not fair!!” Housemaiden. “It's not fair that Siffrin gets the cute nickname-title out of all of us!!! I want one too!”

Despite waiting for it to happen, they’re not… continuing the conversation. They’re waiting for you to answer.

Being so close to them, practically in their circle, it’s probably not very polite to grimace or do anything of the sort, nor turn to Stardust for help.

But.

…

“They’re not nicknames.” You supply after a while. With one exception, you suppose, but there’s no need to impart that information onto them, let it be only yours for a change. 

“Sounds like nicknames to me. Mostly bad ones.” Is that the Kid? does it matter? You’re just bad with names. Look at what you chose for yourself, after all. Either way...

…You feel— close. To something.

Something terrible.

“Sorry, Kid, I don’t have anything better to offer you. They’re just titles!” 

“Why titles, then?” But it’s the Researcher that asks, not the Kid. Ah.

Again, you wait for your Stardust to say something. Nothing comes. Well then! The fault of the matter will just have to lie with them.

“Because! That’s what you all are to me. Just titles.”

Nothing more, nothing less.

The answer does not please any of them. You watch with mild amusement as the expression of each falls, curiosity replaced by unease, awkwardness, all different flavors of the same emotion. 

It’d be funny if it didn’t trickle you with some sort of pang.

…

You need. To do something.

“Sorry to disappoint, everyone, but may I have a moment? I do need to speak with Stardust, alone.”

He perks up, though you can feel their confusion coming off in waves.

“Alone?” Fighter asks. Spotlights back at you! How exciting!

“It’s a secret loops thing, you see. Something they’d rather not talk about right now.” You absolutely do not feel bad about using them as an excuse.

“Oh…!” Housemaiden. 

You realize what you’re asking is hard to be delivered, however. You’re ready for the possibility of it not being granted.

Researcher stares at you for a long, long while. It’s impossible to tell what she’s thinking about.

“As long as you do not attempt anything untoward again, sure.” 

Oh! Look at that! 

“Don’t worry, Researcher, we’re way past that, aren’t we?” Reminiscent of the day before. Hm.

“…Yeah.” Stardust mumbles.

“Are we all okay with this?” Researcher turns to the party. Not in the clears yet, it seems.

“…I guess so! Just know that I have a sword and I’m not afraid to use it.” Housemaiden. That gets a mix of giggles and surprised looks at the Housemaiden.

“…Pffft, yeah, just don’t do anything dangerous and you’re fine, Loop.” Fighter.

“We can kick your butt if you try to hurt Frin.” Kid nods triumphantly. 

“Indeed we can. Behave.”

You hold the urge to scoff.

“Yes, yes, of course! Don’t worry, I promise to deliver him whole~”

It is hilarious how that seems to prickle your Stardust, who narrows his eye on your direction. 

With permission granted, you get up, watching as your Stardust follows not too long after, notably very curious of what it is that you're planning.

He only speaks again when you stop, a good ways out into the forest, away from the prying eyes of the party. The feeling of before creeps ever closer.

“…What’s this about?”

But. Now that you’re here, it’s... difficult, to say anything. Counterproductive to what you were trying to do in the first place, you know. Yet.

…

What are you doing?, a ever pertinent question that insists on coming to the forefront of your mind. Either way…

It’s best to do this as quickly and painlessly as possible.

“You’re very cruel, you know?”

Stardust doesn’t understand. You can practically see the inner workings of his mind as he tries to understand what is it that you mean in much a similar way that you usually do to them, and utterly fails to do so. You can’t blame him on that. His suffering wasn’t nearly enough as yours have been, he did not spent stars knows how long picking themselves apart (good).

“Huh?”

Frustrating still to have to explain this. 

“You know what I mean. Being around your party. Having to be here at all.” Do you not want to be?, you can hear the question. “You know I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t ask for this.”

Stardust takes a while to respond.

“I’m aware,” they start. He doesn’t say anything else.

Why are you doing this?, once again, here again. Why couldn’t you just be satisfied with what you had, before? Why couldn’t you just let the issue go? What is it that it’s causing this, this sizzling of your skin, this horrible feeling that refuses to go away that doesn’t seem entirely connected to the fact that, despite it all, you’re here?

“…Anyway.” Stardust, again. “I think… you could have answered them nicely, back there.”

You feel…

…

“Why would I do that?”

…something…

“…why wouldn’t you?” Like an arrow they shot back. “Despite your, ah, murder attempt, they’re trying to accommodate you.”

…is…

“They’re not mine, Stardust.” They never were. “And they never will be.”

“I’ll say it as many times as it takes; they could be if you let them.”

…getting close to you…

…You feel something horrible disguised as billowing nausea reach you. Latching onto you and lodging itself onto your ribcage (?), reaching inside, prying the confines of what makes your form. It does nothing more than to force you to look at Stardust.

And. It’s. It’s just so much.

You can’t take it.

…

You punch him.

Your fist connects with a satisfying crunch. He goes down the grass with a muted ' Oof 'and a thud, not a scream. You have not put enough force onto it to break bone or to seriously hurt him, but still you are satisfied enough to see the faint trickles of blood that trail down his injured nose, as well as the darkening of his face. It releases something that threatens to once again spill forth from your body, a disgusting black corruption that wants to encompass your whole being until there is nothing else to tell any story behind. For a moment, you let yourself get caught up in the feeling that reducing yourself to baseless violence would bring. Follow Stardust, get on top of them again just like you did at the foot of the Favor Tree. Really take in their features, all of the details that you’d often pick apart at a mirror, poking and prodding in search of something remotely salvageable from it, drink in the horror in their stare, the way he’d just tremble with a fear so real and so vast that it could encompass the whole world all over again. Hold them by the collar of their cloak, raised just a tiny bit from the ground, raise your fist, packed with all strength and rage and terror of this entire situation, and punch him again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

and again and again and again with no restraint this time, until their nose truly dislodges and the blood pools down down, punch, punch and punch until you hear the crack of more bones, until his jaw dislodges from his face and flies to the top of his skull, until he is nothing more than the mess that you’ve made of them. You wouldn’t be done there either, no, you’d treat the rest of their body with much the same reverence as you thought of him before, and fueled by such pious adoration, you’d summon enough strength to claw and scratch at his cloak until you hear it tear, break apart the skin beneath, stare at his organs, reach for the star that is their heart and pick it piece by piece. Their blood, you like to think, would sizzle and shimmer. Their scream would still echo and reverberate against your skull as you open a mouth that you do not have and eat it right then and there, he’d still tremble and pant and try in vain to breathe though all that would come out would be nothing but heavy panting. Perhaps with this they would realize what's it like to be like you, wanting to breath and revel in the familiarity of an action and not be able to, and who knows how long it has been since you couldn’t do it anymore, you stopped counting the loops for a reason, you knew what’d do to your head, though right now it hardly seems to matter when your thoughts just keep coming and coming, does it now? No, you want your Stardust to suffer, to watch as you collect their blood from the floor and the grass and bathe yourself in it, feel the warmth of them, trickling down this pathetic excuse for a body until no more stars can be seen and until no more stars that dot you can ever blind someone else again,

and then 

then…

then you’d give up, give yourself to whatever wants to take you, cease to exist, disappear entirely.

Or maybe you wouldn’t do any of that. Maybe all you truly do would be to enjoy the satisfaction of punching their face until no more of this horribly disgusting feeling inside of you remains. Bash their head against the ground. Punch them so hard only, purely, for yourself, your own twisted satisfaction.

The one has to be enough.

You don’t know what’s worse about this. The fact that you did it, or the way that he made no noise, just stared back at you, a hand touching their face to assess the damage. Free of outrage, confusion, or any of those irascible emotions one should be having when getting punched. Either way, it unnerves you.

“Why did you do that?” He asks finally, though even Stardust's voice does not have the same timbre that you expected. They just sound… resigned. 

“I think you know very well why.” 

Which is to say: you do not think you can explain without going into another fit. 

The air blows over the two of you. Despite thinking impossible, you catch a whiff of blood from them.

“I’m sorry.” And isn’t this so funny to witness. The disparity of such a scene. It makes you want to laugh. 

It makes you want to double over.

Why are you like this, Stardust? Why couldn’t you just let me go? , you want to ask. But instead, you say: 

“I don’t want to be here. They are nothing but ghosts of my party, Stardust. Do you truly think I can be between them, hear them banter and try to include me out of pity ?”

“It’s not out of pity!” His answer is exasperated. You do laugh, now, it sounds alien in the cheer it carries, none of what you truly feel at the moment. What do you feel? What do you want? What are you doing? “I thought that you… Nevermind.”

“What, that things were getting better? It’s not that easy! One or two nice words aren’t gonna erase what happened or make any of this any less worse than it is!” It makes sense that that’s what he thinks. It’s what they got. Of course he’d be this naive.

“…I know it won’t. I’m sorry.” 

“And!!! It’s incredibly disgusting of you to make me go through this, you know!”

“…I know.”

“Oh, you do? Then why are you doing this, if you care to enlighten me? Is it because you want to torture me more, is that it?”

“No, I…” he looks distraught. You can’t seem to stop. 

“Is it because you want to make sure I always have a reminder of what I’ve lost? That’s vile, even for you, Stardust, and you know I’ve witnessed many of your blunders. And you had many! Want me to start listing them? Or do you already know you’re pathetic and disgusting and selfish for wanting to keep me? I shouldn’t need to remind you!” 

…

You’d stop yourself right then and there for the words that leave your mouth alone and the horrifying realization of what you’re saying, but to add insult to the injury, the expression on your Stardust’s face makes you want to cringe. 

You act like you’re on such a higher horse than him, but truth is… you’re just as horrible, if not worse than them.

…

Well.

You choose not to say anything, and look away. Coward that you are, you cannot bring yourself to face the horror you’ve created.  

“Loop…” they try again. It’s that tone of voice that ruined you at the very first time. “I’m sorry.” As if that’s going to do anything. You suppose you should fix this situation somewhat. End this conversation so that the both of you can move on.

“I agreed to be here” because you won't let me leave “to help you, Stardust. Not to make friends.”

And he knows the reason. He does and he did it anyway. To the point that, well, this, happened.

He looks like he's about to say something else, but either guilt or you stops him: a quick movement from you heals the damage done. Distantly, you also recognize this as a very funny action, hilarious even. Capacity to feel mirth is not within your reach at the moment.

“As I said,” You bring your hands to hold your arms. Nails grip on your skin harshly, still that isn’t enough to chase the feeling of wrongness that sticks to you, stubbornly. There’s something wrong here, something terrible. “I am here because you asked for my help. Do not make me do more than I have to.”

“I'm sorry,” again. And he says this with the same haunted expression you think you saw from the top of the favor tree, the same trembling of his voice, the same fear when you presented them with the possibility of being unneeded by the party he loves so very much. 

Echo, echo, echo. Endless repetition. He’ll keep doing this. His words will stab you and hurt you much more than you ever could take.

…You feel something wrong.

“I won't leave yet” because you won't let me. “Though! You should wipe off that face. Wouldn't want to alarm your party, now would you?”

He does just that. 

“Loop…” that wasn't enough to silence them, was it? The conversation couldn't be done and dusted, situation forgotten and moved on from. They had to stop and pick it apart. “…You should’ve told me before.” 

Should’ve could’ve would’ve. The same as always. 

“You’re smart enough to figure it out yourself, aren’t you?”

“That’s not the point!” Stardust grumbles and huffs. You all but shrug in response. That dreadful feeling rolls along with your shoulders.

Then what is? And does it matter if you know?

You decide that no, it doesn’t. No, it's not gonna change anything. 

…

You’re tired.

So, so, so tired of acting and echoes and ghosts and corpses and roles and gods and so much more.

Tired of it all.

Chapter Text

It hadn’t taken long for you to feel bad about what you’ve just done.

As you walk back with them beside you, an unnatural silence stretching between you and your Stardust, the feeling crawls around your neck much like a chain would slither and pull.

Punching your other self had felt warranted, yes, and of course you're still angry enough to consider the possibility of doing it again, as a distant maybe you’ll perhaps think about once more later, but… this quite disgusting feeling still remained, and with it the many considerations that one such as you could regard.

In the distant haze of your mind, you still see your Stardust face, a blankness to his features that, quite honestly, scares you a bit. You wonder what is it that he thought when you punched him, racked your brain at it, and inwardly cringed at the most possible answer that the longer it was considered, the longer it appeared to be true: that your Stardust had no reaction because he thought the action deserved, and if that was the case then you didn’t want to think about this anymore— let it be carried away by the wind and make you regret your decisions at the back of your mind.

Speaking of. Regret. Such a thing exists. It mixes with the guilt of what you have just done. The memories of the occurrence, although fuzzy, felt surreal, as if it belonged to someone else with a more sound mind than yours, someone who would not have given up to feelings because they did not have any more that could be called theirs, similar enough to you, though in you clings the error and the selfishness to think that you could ever act on wayward feelings.

In simpler terms: you regret what you did and you wish to apologize.

It is easier to wish for something than to actually do it.

Your walk back to the camp wasn’t too far nor packed with enough time for you to wrestle yourself into apologizing, so it turns out that nothing was uttered at all as the shades of tents came back into view, the apology sitting at the bottom of your non existent throat, as unreal as you’re feeling at the moment.

“Oh!! Siffrin, Loop, you’re back!” You’re greeted by the Housemaiden, who smiles at you both, though for Stardust her expression quickly shifts into one of worry. The others also look over. “Is everything okay?” It makes sense of her to ask. Stardust might not have any visible injury thanks to your healing Craft, but if they’re one thing, is that they are very easy to read.

“Yeah, I’m ok.” He responds, and for a second you do not know what to do with yourself, so you just stand there, attempting a relaxed smile towards the party, a silent non greeting.

Housemaiden gives him an once over.

“…Are you really?” 

Stardust grumbles, looking away.

“Just a bit tired, is all.”

“Oh! You two didn’t go very far, did you?”

The looks of the Researcher from the corner of your mind worries you. But it’s the Kid that asks you:

“You didn’t hurt Frin, did you?”

“No such thing,” you don’t have to pretend to be offended at this. From the others, it’s expected. “He’s all whole, isn’t he?” Let them wonder if you could ever heal any damage done.

“No, Bonbon, Loop didn't hurt me.” Oh! Stardust's lying for you, now? He shouldn't. “I'm just tired.”

“…Hmf. Okay, I guess.” They don't seem wholly satisfied with this answer. “But why? Is it a Craft super tired thing?”

“Craft Exhaustion,” adds the Researcher.

“Craft Exhaustion thing.” 

“Good job.”

That interaction aside…

“Oh, maybe!” Housemaiden again. “Any other symptoms?”

You’re starting to feel awkward just following your Stardust around, so as soon as your legs decide to work, you go to sit in front of the shared tent, away from everyone else. It’s just as awkward as the feelings you’re trying to juggle, a little less if you’re not directly in the spotlight. Doable, that’s the word.

Your mind 's fuzzy.

“Uhhh…” Stardust takes a moment to think. “I feel a little dizzy, sometimes. Not right now. Heads heavy, though.”

“Siffrin!!!! That’s not normal!!! You should have told us before!!!” 

You almost audibly scoff at the notion. 

“B-but I’m fine now?”

“You should rest a little, buddy. Follow your doctors orders!” Fighter.

…they go on to fuss some more at him and you only half pay attention. It’s decided that Stardust is going to either lay down or not go too far from camp again for today while sitting down. He sighs but accepts, huddling over beside the Housemaiden and the Fighter, where they start to smother him with affection.

He does not regard you again for a good while. You don’t blame him.

Now here’s a funny little thing: there is only so much tuning out one can do before getting bored. You don’t have a lot to do sitting around camp besides listening in to conversations (you’ve done that enough that it’s quickly losing its shine, no matter how new and unfamiliar the conversations are), or being a part of them, which, ew, no thanks. You suppose you could get up and walk a little, however you’re sure that if you tried your Stardust might either not let you or start looking so terribly restless and anxious over the notion of you going away that he’d probably go after you, when it was already established that they should not be doing that. And, if you went regardless of Stardust opinions, then you don’t think you could trust yourself to come back.

Fact is: you're bored and if you do not do something you are going to scream.

There’s your regular hobbies to partake in, napping and cloud watching, and for a while that’s what you do, though sleep does not come easily to you, if you do manage to nap then it’s only for a few minutes at best. And the clouds were few and scarce today, lazily walking about, not interesting enough for cloud watching— only so many to assign fun little shapes to. 

Out of options, then. Frustrating.

…What a novel sensation, this one.

It’s not like you’re a stranger to boredom. You had plenty of time to feel that during Stardust loops, not much to do but think and look at the Favor Tree while waiting for Stardust to either call you or come talk to you.

So. You’re bored. Which shouldn’t be a problem. Not normally at least.

…You sigh. It’d be nice to zone out for the entire day, not deal with anything at all until your presence becomes relevant again. Because, at the moment, you’re very tired of thinking, and Stardust’s too busy interacting with the party to give you attention. So no help there.

Hmmm. What to do, what to do.

Inevitably, you start wondering yet again about all of the things you’ve done that led you here. Incidentally, that’s something you don’t want to think about, so you try to do the next best thing: go and think about something else, slightly related to the initiating topic your brain wants to latch onto, a deviation to fuel enough of the desire to be on the troubling topic that should be avoided. Very nice tactic. Variable success rate.

Okay, so. You are a star, still, by the grace of the universe. Got the head and starry body and everything, being here despite it all still did not mean you get your old appearance back, shame, not even the universe wants you back. Knowledge of stars, as everything else you know, is quite shaky and fragile, not much to go on about, so... what does your existence mean, at the moment? Better: What does being a star entail? You glow, yes. The many lights in your body shift and move from time to time, yes. You know you can’t eat (don’t). You know that probably means you also don’t have a throat or a mouth or anything of the sorts, either (don’t). You know you can (can you?) feel things physically, and you assume most of your body is modeled after a human. Do not think too much about this— what else? Hm.

Can you bleed? 

You did get hurt by your Stardust during your fight, so pain registers are still there, though little coward that Stardust is, they did not dare to strike you to truly hurt, resigning to self defense, even that was flimsy, you did want him to hurt you and— ah, yeah, okay, get something else to think about, not this topic, nope. 

Anyway. He did not hurt you enough to bleed, only sore muscles as your punishment. Unlike them, you did not get the opportunity to get your hands on a shiny piece of glass, neither were you crazy enough to start testing things while the party’s around. Research for another time, then. You’d like to know what else the universe has decided that it was useful for you, helpful Loop, to have.

…Oh! That’s right! Being in Stardust loops came with some nifty abilities! Like the new Craft thing and the beaming thoughts into his head! Do those still work?

You look over at Stardust. He’s listening to the Researcher and Housemaiden talk about something. Fighter and Kid seem to be on another conversation of their own.

Might as well!

[Oooooh stardustttttt~ Does this still work? Starduuussstt!!]

His reaction is instantaneous. Close enough to the Housemaiden that the flinch and little “nya?!” of surprise does not escape unnoticed.

“…Siffrin.” Researcher. “Did you just say ‘nya’?”

Frantically they look around, corner of their eye meeting yours. You, however, only smile sweetly.

[Good to know it still works!!] you’re going to have so much fun with this, especially knowing that they still can’t answer. Not right now, because conversation about the embarrassing noise ensues. Not your problem.

Buuuut… what about the Calling Craft? Since nobody’s looking your way during the conversation happening, you make the sign and focus your thoughts onto your Stardust.

With the way he keeps looking increasingly troubled during the coos of their party, you’d hazard a guess that the embarrassment is not only from the situation at hand. 

[Oooh, so this also works! Good to know!] You beam to them instead, since they’ve decided to be rude and not answer. You switch back to the option without the possibility of an answer. [It is very rude to not pick up when you’re being called. Do you hate me? How awful! After everything I’ve done!] if it wouldn’t look suspicious, you would very much add some flair to your words, let your penchant for dramatics show off a little.

He tenses in a way that looks entirely like they’re asking why are you doing this. Why indeed.

[I'm bored! And you’re not giving me enough attention! Also, I still can't hear your thoughts.]

“Sif? Are you okay?” Fighter asks, very very awkwardly, worry coating his words due to the hilarious expression Stardust’s making right now. 

“Oh no!!! Did we make you uncomfortable?”

[You better tell them the truth, Stardust~ Wouldn’t want them to misunderstand you~]

They tremble.

“Uh, no, it’s…”

[Talking like this is very annoying, since you can’t reply, but I’m not gonna stop! I’ll bother you until you answer me! Come on now, be honest, you can do that much, can't you?] 

Stardust's poor attention span is suffering.

“Siffrin. Please do tell us if you feel uncomfortable with anything we say.” Researcher.

“Yeah, we won’t get mad.”

“Please tell us Siffrin!!”

[Are you gonna tell them you like receiving all that attention over making cute silly noises? You better!] you don’t want to have to tell them for Stardust. How embarrassing would that be?

“Ugh, um, sorry, it’s not that, it’s, uhhh, just…” As fun as this is, you do grant him some mercy to respond. “Uh. It’s not that.” 

“Are you still feeling weird?” Kid. 

“Then what’s the problem, Siffrin?” Researcher presses. Stardust does glance at you again, and again you don’t do much. “I thought it’s been established that bottling up your feelings isn’t healthy.”

“Yeah, cuz that’s what caused you to get stuck in forever school, and I don’t want that to happen again!”

“Me neither! I want to hang out with you, Sif!”

“Exactly. So take this as an opportunity to properly communicate with us. You don’t have to elaborate on the topic.”

They look conflicted.

[Not a word. It can be our little secret!] Mostly you just don’t want to deal with the questions that will inevitably come after.

“Uh, no, just… I got distracted thinking about… Croissants.” 

[What a horrible excuse] His eye twitches. [Oh well, if it works!]

“…Oh!” At least Housemaiden seems to buy it. The others offer a mix of laughing with exasperated reactions. “Just randomly??”

“…Yes?”

“Change, Siffrin, this better be true.”

”So you're not uncomfortable over us teasing you about the noise?” Fighter.

Stardust grumbles, clearly very embarrassed. Ha. 

“...No.”

[Good job, Stardust, you told them one thing! That wasn't so hard now, was it? Oh, I'm so proud of you!] You don't really care.

“…Really?” Researcher does not look convinced. Ultimately, she sighs. “You hate croissants this much, now?”

Oh yeah. Considering how the last Loop went, a lot of conversations that you're familiar with never happened. Realization that Stardust shares with you, nodding ever so slowly with furrowed brows.

“...But why, though?” Kid. 

“Yeah, I feel like you liked them just fine before. Then your opinion just suddenly changed from day to night and, uh…” Fighter trails off.

This is starting to feel far too familiar for your liking.

Housemaiden catches on the same assumption the Fighter did.

“Is it… a loops thing?”

You breathe in. 

[Are you going to tell them, Stardust?] You don’t want them to. Not like you could stop them. 

You’d much rather continue bothering him just to watch him squirm, but… Again, as much fun as this is, you’d rather both receive responses and have their entire attention on you, so you can ask exactly how much did Stardust inform them about what happened in the loops (it’s not like you wanted to watch, before). Let this be mercy on their poor soul (for now).

You are somewhat interested in how Stardust is going to save this.

“Um, I… ate a burnt one, once.”

Ah. Predictable, really. 

…You let out a breath of something akin to relief. You don’t think about this.

Luckily for Stardust, despite its familiarity, the script does not continue as usual, as he does seem fine enough, so. Not your problem anymore.

Okay, so! You’ve retained two of your weird abilities. Which probably means that the watching things through Stardust eyes business also works. And calling their party, a pair of things that you don’t really want to test right at the moment. What else? 

You have a few ideas, however most of them are too awkward to try out in the open.

…Which means you’re back to being bored. Boo.

You wish you had your dagger, still. You could carve something right now. Or your coin, could twirl it between your fingers— that’s probably something to bother Stardust about it later, if he hasn’t lost it. You wish you had anything else to do to distract you from your thoughts. Hm.

It is quite hateful that all your sources of entertainment are tied to your Stardust. It’s all your existence has come to be nowadays, isn’t it. Ha.

Yet another thing that you shouldn’t think about.

You don’t have books. You don’t have tools. You don’t have the birds that liked to gather around the Favor Tree to watch. You don’t really have anything to call your own besides a fuzzy blanket. You don’t have anyone to talk to other than Stardust. There’s only your Stardust and their party. Is it any wonder that you’ll reach a conclusion like that? It might as well be true, no? All that you are is tied to Stardust. All that you can do is tied to Stardust. You’re here because of them, and the universe, so what use does a star have for desires and wants anyway? None. None! You can’t! You can only…

…

You wonder which one will catch up first: death, or boredom?

…You look at the sky again. Count and recount the clouds. Make up a thousand shapes for them, familiar and unfamiliar. Then you listen to the sounds of the forest, the talking and the walking as it seems like Housemaiden, Kid and Fighter go to walk around away from the group, leaving it in a strange silence, besides the occasional bird call and rustling of leaves. Then you look at the trees and try to spot differences on them, a failed attempt because all of them look the same to you. Then you start to play games within your mind. Then you start to pull up the grass blades beneath and around you, piling them up on your lap just to feel the trickle of them against what you keep wondering and wondering if it’s skin.

Just as you feel about to go truly insane and yell, Stardust joins you. You quickly wipe the grass bits away as he settles by your side.

“Hi,” he greets, a quick nod.

“Hi.” You greet, waving back. “How can I help you?”

Is there a flinch with the question? Is it yours or Stardust’s?

“I think it's the opposite this time. You look bored.” 

Ow. It might be true, but. Ouch.

“Me???” You're still feeling a little petty, and teasing them is fun. “I'll have you know I'm always extremely busy.” 

They shoot a look to the Researcher at the other side of the camp, seemingly occupied with reading. None of you are sure if she's truly absorbed in the reading or secretly paying attention. Hard to say.

Either way, their voice drops a notch.

“Yes, you. You kept bothering me from afar.”

You did do that, yes.

“Can you blame me? I have nothing else to do, you know.” None of the things that you’re allowed to do. None of the things that you wished you could do (stop that).

At least they look a little bit guilty about this predicament.

“…Sorry.”

“You didn’t think about that possibility, did you?” Didn’t think this through at all, most likely. They shake their head, awkwardly. “Stars.”

And as if it’s gonna help their case: “You never seemed bored at the favor tree.”

“Now that’s different.” In so many levels! “But, yes, I am very bored. Any suggestions?”

“Could, you know, always talk to the party.” They make a movement towards the Researcher, who still seems preoccupied with whatever it is she’s doing instead of paying attention to the two of you.

You simply glare at him.

“…Why not?”

You continue to glare.

“Okay, fine. Suit yourself,” Stardust grumbles. You stop glaring and do the motions of a smile. “Hm. Anything you want to do?” 

The question sends a pang of anxiety through you, makes your chest tight in such a way. Options, huh. More than what you’re used to. Enough to stifle the impulse to give the usual answer, the ‘let me leave and never come back’, and make you come dangerously close to considering... something else.

You take a while to properly answer. Hands rest on your lap. Dare you say it? Might as well. It’s not like you have any other options.

“I suppose I’d like to carve again. Or read.”

“Hm…” Stardust ponders. You notice he’s still slower than usual to respond, that the cogs in his brain can almost be heard. “I’ll ask Mira or Odile if they have anything, if you’d like?”

Oh now that’s mortifying. Horrible.

“No.”

An exasperated sigh. 

“Okay. Then next town we’ll get you something.”

Hm… You can accept that. Not an immediate solution, but, sure.

“Do you still have your dagger?” 

“Yeah, but.” Stardust narrows his eye. Not trusted yet, it seems. “I don’t have a sharpening stone anymore.” Oh yeah. The details of things are starting to get muddled. Fumbled the script. Been fumbling for quite some time (it’s as if the entire world has handed everyone but you one). Or is it just because you’re stressed? You don’t think you’d be this forgetful over what did and didn’t happen during the loops. 

The matter at hand:

“Are you really gonna be this petty and not lend me the blinding dagger?” You’re sorta mad at that. You don’t think you were this selfish. It’s technically yours to begin with!

“Not until we can sharpen it, no.” Ugh. Whatever. You’ll live bored then! “But I’ll ask Bonbon if they have any to spare.”

“No.” Where did the Kid go anyway?

“It’s either that or nothing.”

Ugh. Fine.

“Fine. What about for now?”

“…For now?”

Stars.

“Yes, now. I’m still bored, you know.” And who knows when the Kid might come back.

“Uh… we could… talk about something?”

Except that you don’t think you have anything to talk about with your Stardust that doesn’t involve information that the party’s allowed to hear. Well, whatever, you’ll take what you can get.

“Sure. How are you feeling, Stardust?”

He seems a little baffled by the question. You’re playing the therapist! Look at you! Helpful Loop, asking questions, here to help with your feelings. If you didn’t know any better you could even say you’re worried about Stardust.

…

Are you?

“Tired.” Answer is simple enough. “My head feels heavy. Not the… I’m gonna pass out way, but the foggy, can’t think right way.”

You hum. Concerning.

“Are you sure you don’t want to lay down?”

Shake of their head. “No, I already feel useless as it is.”

“Mhm, I get it.” You do also want to get going, walking would be better than sitting idly. It’s the compromise of not having to stay in Dormont, unfortunately. “Don’t strain yourself too much.”

“I know, I know. It’s frustrating. I want to get better right now.”

“Have patience, silly!” Easier said than done, you know. You’re nothing but a self aware hypocrite. They shake their head. “What about the others, where did they go?”

“Bonnie wanted to catch bugs or something. Or go to Dormont to get something. I forgot.”

Probably both. Then two people went to accompany them. 

“…Why?”

“What do you mean why? Bonnie’s bored.”

“Not that, dummy.” You roll your eyes. “Why are both of them accompanying the Kid?”

They shrug. 

“I dunno. Didn't ask.” 

Figures.

…Oh! “…Do you still have my coin?”

Stardust perks up. They start to go through their pockets, and you do your very best to not think or mimic the movements. A bit of rustling later, they pull out a few different items. In the left hand: your two coins, intact, identical, same as ever. In the other, a sad lump of clay, as well as the pendant you saw them insist on collecting every blinding loop they had the chance. Any trinkets or collectibles were never safe from them. Another difference between the two of you.

“Here.” You snatch the closest coin from him, doesn’t matter if it’s the one that always belonged to you or not. The weight of it is as familiar as it is comforting. Makes something in your chest (?) coil, easily ignorable. Stardust closes his hand on the remaining coin, at the same time they offer the other items, still. “No?” …Ah. Well. Why not. You snatch the clay. Feels firmer than it should. Nothing that a little kneading wouldn’t fix. “Not the pendant?”

“I would, but as you can see, there’s not a lot of places I could keep that.” You take mercy on the confusion due to sickness they display. “No pockets to keep them, Stardust.” They nod, slowly. “Unless you have a chain for that pendant?” You don’t like the hope that remains in your voice as you voice the question. You shouldn’t.

“The one I have is too big for it.” Boo. “I’ll find another. Then you can also go ding-ding all day long.” Stardust shakes the pendant, making it jingle (you get the feeling you're being made fun of).

You want to snort at that silly notion. Opinions on funny noises are far too muddled at this point, nothing that you could think about clearly, so you don’t. Coin in your lap, you do appreciate the lump of clay, the pressure nice against your fingers. You let them sink and get encompassed by the material for a few beats, not looking to make anything in particular at the moment.

You don’t plan to stay long enough for that pendant, anyway.

“When you want to put it away, I can hold it for you.” 

The kindness is unusual. You’ve been trying not to think too much about it, and could have succeeded most likely, if not for the offer uttered so easily your way, bringing with it so many weird and strange feelings. Makes you think of many things, recent and not so recent, of plates (stacked up high) and interactions that blended into each other until they’ve become a mess of shades and noises, all meaning lost, threw high onto the trees until it was gone from your sight forever and ever, into somewhere where it would better fit than with you.

You sink your fingers into the clay. Watch the indents they left behind, a little proof of your intervention. A little proof of your existence. That your touch has affected something, that you’re real in some way. That you’re here.

A noise akin to a huff leaves you. Something feels stuck at the bottom of a throat that does not exist.

“…Thank you.” 

You don’t want to give this back.

“No problem.” Stardust nods. 

You ignore him as you apply some more pressure into the piece of clay and attempt stretching it. It’s slowly regaining its previous elasticity. This, and the feeling of your coin, cold and familiar on your thigh, feels nice. Brings a strange kind of comfort.

They watch you for a little while, before stashing the bell pendant back into their pockets with a faint di-ding. 

Unfortunately for you both, you ran out of things to say or ask already. You were never good with making conversation, happier to listen, same as Stardust. Together you two make a rather awkward pair that would keep to silence unless there was something relevant to say, or until Stardust thinks of something, which you don’t blame them for being unable to. Despite what he says, with the way he leans against the tent walls, they do seem more exhausted than usual, ready to sleep for the rest of the day. After a while of watching you, there comes a sigh, and then Stardust loses interest and just stays with their eyes closed, not quite sleeping.

In a weird way, the silent company helps with the incessant boredom and need to always be thinking about something. You stretch and mess around with the clay, until it feels more malleable again. Then you roll it between your palms, making it into a ball to gather all the little bits that wanted to stick to the skin (?). Now you can sculpt something, if you’d like. 

It’s nice. Makes you feel a little more normal.

You make a bird.

Peeou, peeou!

A noise from across the camp invades your blissful moment of whimsy.

“Hah. Cute.”

Oh, you said that out loud.

…Wait. That wasn't Stardust's voice (though he is also looking at you with a tiny smile).

Then…

OH NO YOU SAID THAT OUT LOUD!!!!!!!!

You absolutely do not look at either of them (they're both looking at you now, oh stars). Whimsy lost, never to be found again. Nevermind everything else. You’ll perish. 

“Are you blushing?” Stardust asks.

“No!” You can’t anyway, no face!!! …Or can you? You don’t know??

“You are!” Stardust declares with a laugh like they’re very pleased with themself. “You glow a little more when you blush.” What.

“What.”

“Interesting.” Researcher supplies??? Then goes back to whatever it is she’s doing, good!!!

“Very. I’ll totally not use this information for evil.”

“Shut up!! Leave me alone!!!”

Lucky for you, they do.

…

Ah. Well. Mortifying. Horrible experience. Etc etc.

…You kinda ruined your little bird during all that. Gripping them too hard and such. Sigh. Might as well make something else.

…A little bit of time later, you have a tiny hat, and Stardust is poking you. Your tiny hat is saved from the aftermath of the touch, the flinch that stubbornly still wants to cling to you even though you should very well know better, yet still don’t for reasons unexplainable.

“What is it, Stardust?” He apologizes silently. Fool that you are, you forgive them.

“I think I will go lay down and sleep. Feeling weird.”

Oh!

“Oh. Okay!” Analyzing their features, you see the droop in their eyes and the slow, careful breathings Stardust lets out, as if they're having trouble with the act. They don’t immediately get up after announcing their plans, however, odd. “…What? Do you need help entering the tent or something?”

“No, I’m fine.” Hesitance mingles with the annoyance of such a suggestion. Then… “…Keep me company?”

Oh! …Surprising, to say the least. You thought your Stardust might not want anything to do with you, after what you did. Either he forgot about it, or the second, ominous option: they did not care about the occurrence as much as they should’ve, a way more concerning notion that will likely bother you later.

Now, it begs the question… Should you? You… suppose you know that you want to. But… should you? It’s dangerous. He might ask for touch again, something you don’t know if you could handle, and worse yet, don’t know if you could avoid getting used to.

You shouldn’t take too long to respond. It’ll make them nervous. Make you nervous. 

But…

…Aaahh. You want to. You want to! Can’t you? Couldn’t you? 

“…Sure, Stardust.” You allow yourself to be selfish, for a little bit, it’s already a lost cause from the moment he asked anyway (what’s one more?). Stardust smiles.

You open the tent to get in with them. You find a corner to place your clay and coin into, next to their belongings, and you watch as Stardust lazily gets themself comfortable. Cloak and eyepatch go into an almost neat pile. You watch them.

…

You don’t know what to do. 

What does your company entail? Are you supposed to just stand there until they fall asleep or something? Or…

Eventually, they look at you while patting the empty space between them, the other arm holding the blanket up to make space for you. Well then!

You notice their gloves are missing.

…Hm.

They blink at you. Once. Twice.

…You move to the space they offered. This is so much more awkward than last time. Worse, because with the initial experience one should assume you’d know what to do, yet.

Finally does Stardust let their head fall onto the pillows, sighing in relief. The awkward, restless feeling of before remains.

“You’re needy, Stardust.” All you can do is complain, really. “Can’t sleep alone anymore?”

“I suppose I can’t,” they open their eye to stare at you. Analyzing. “You don’t have to keep me company.” You know. It’s just… aaah. You’re selfish. Disgusting. You miss the touch. Even if it’ll bring dire consequences. Why are you like this? 

You should stop while you can.

“Talk about clingy. Have you always been like this, hmmm? If only your party knew.”

He just sort of… stares. Shuffles a little.

“I mean it. You don’t have to keep me company, truly. I don’t… want to force you.”

…Aaahhh…

“Now why would I refuse? I wouldn’t be helpful Loop if I did that, now would I?”

Why are you like this?

A beat of silence. Stardust takes a big breath in, presumably to not throttle you. 

There is something left unsaid that scratches at the phantom of your throat. An unspoken admission.

You should get up and leave, presented with the option. You know you should.

You hesitate.

“...Okay, fine. I’m going to go with the assumption that you wouldn’t have followed me in if you didn’t want to be here.”

You almost squawk in indignation. Almost (you don’t because it’s true.). Instead, you avoid their gaze.

There’s nothing to answer to this. The moment to leave came and went. No more chances.

“Hold my hand until I fall asleep?”

“Is this a new habit or something?” Did they used to do this with their Fighter? Or their Housemaiden? No, Stardust wouldn’t ask. Where did this come from, then?

“Maybe.” Is this something you’re to blame for? Hm… “So… hold?” 

They offer that gloveless hand again, pale as the rest of their body. Before you can spare a thought about your actions, you take it. Fingers intertwine together, perfectly. They squeeze, letting out another little sigh as they tremble, and you notice they’re colder than the previous day, as if his body is so weak that it cannot keep up with its usual temperature regulation, thus needing to feed off of yours (if that’s something you have). You stare at your joined hands, contemplating the sensation that undoubtedly travels through your body, and try your best not to think too much about this. It’s just your Stardust. The two of you taking what they want from each other (disgusting). It’s not complicated (or at least it shouldn’t be). It’s not.

He is staring, too.

His thumb slowly caresses your hand, a mimic of your own actions, a mirror of yesterday thrown back at you, and you shiver, eyes closing to avoid the scrutiny of his gaze. 

It sends pleasant little tingles all over. 

This is dangerous. So, so dangerous. You know you can’t crave things anymore, you’re not allowed to want anything, you know this will not help quieten the haunting melody of desire that courses within you, you know this won’t last, you know he’s selfish and he should not be seeking company much less contact like this with someone like you, who is as fleeting as the wind, uncertain in their existence, you know you shouldn’t allow this to happen, should tell them off and refuse and suggest something else like you have done so many times before with that flower (nevermind that you eventually accepted it), you know that if this keeps happening they’re gonna get used to it and then they’re gonna be selfish and then it’ll become an habit it’ll be yet another expectation out of you, because they’re needy he’s selfish he’s gonna crave this once he knows you’re amenable to the option and then you won’t be able to refuse anymore because you'll be in much the same boat, they have options and they could take those options, if this keeps happening then— then—

You want to keep holding his hand. You want to revive the warmth that he gives off, the feeling of skin that drags when you move and bone beneath it, the slowly warming of his hand against yours, the sweetness of the moment, all the little things that it brought, even if it was selfish, even if it left you with this disgusting horrible feeling swimming inside all that remained of you.

This shouldn’t become a habit.

Stardust has so many other options. You’re not the person a habit like this should be formed with. He has his Fighter. Literally anyone else. 

And yet...

you...

do not let go.

No, you’re convincing yourself to stay here, feeling. It’s just the second time, so it’s fine, right? Next one you’ll refuse, suggest the Fighter or the Housemaiden or the Kid maybe even the Researcher because all of them would be so much better than you at this. So this one is fine, isn’t it? You can enjoy this, can’t you?

They smile at you.

You want to scream.

Stardust movements slow, until they halt almost completely. They cannot seem to fight the droopyness of their eyes. You hear a last hum that sounds close to either your name, a good night, a thanks for indulging, or a combination of all of that, before their breathing stabilizes enough to be considered sleep. His chest rises and falls with a slow rhythm, slightly raspy, no longer so short and concerningly out of breath as before.

Besides him and the occasional noise of a page turning from outside, there is silence.

You breathe in… 

And out.

In. Out.

In…

and out.

Okay. You should leave. Cut this short before much more damage is done.

…

Right.

Slowly, slowly, you pull your hand back, raising fingers to detach, and… and…

And.

He squeezes back. You freeze.

“Mngmmghh…” Their eyebrows knit together, a scowl in their lips. Is he waking up? You’d prefer to leave quietly, not make a fuss out of the situation.

Their eye does not open. Inconclusive.

You wait a few moments for the beating of the ghost of your heart to settle, then try again. 

…Only to be met with much the same reaction, except… He pulls your hand back a little, a touch too close to being uncomfortable. 

Something tugs at your chest, terribly familiar. Once again, a melody of warnings echo inside your mind, you know, you know, you know!

This is getting ridiculous.

“I need to go, Stardust.” Sleeping or not, it’s his problem. You need to leave. Before something horrible festers--

“Don’t”, he whispers back, “don’t leave me” awake it is then, though Stardust's eye does not open. Another squeeze that makes you shiver and heart race, silent little buzz, so loud in the ears you don’t have. “Please…”

Against yourself… something fond escapes.

“You can sleep without me, can’t you?” You’ve always had. What’s different?

“But…” closer to a whine. “I like knowing that you’re still here… with me…”

He must be in some groggy type of mid dream, you’d figure, because. There’s. There’s. Just no way that’s true. No way he’d speak like this as if he’s genuinely afraid that you’d truly go on with your word and disappear. 

You don’t deserve this. You don’t. 

His judgement is addled with exhaustion. Not sound of mind. There’s no way he’d speak like that, like your (intimate?) company is desirable, like he cannot fathom the possibility of sleeping without knowing that you’re close, and real, and around, not something out of their imagination.

You’re the last person (?) that should hear this.

One, two, three, one, two, three, a song of longing plays. One, two, three. Reaching a crescendo.

You’re powerless to stop it.

“…Okay. I’ll stay.” You’re a fool. A moron. You’re stupid and you deserve to be swallowing around nothing just a ghost of a sensation that you can’t seem to let go you deserve this nothingness that coats all of you, you deserve all of the evil that the Universe has thrown at you so mercilessly and unfairly, uncaring of who it does to because when has anyone cared, when have you ever cared? “Just don’t pull so hard.”

He acquiesces, finally, mumbling yet another something unintelligible that if you tried to decipher you’d fall apart. Actually, scratch that. Maybe you’re already falling apart (maybe you've always been broken).

Despite it all, despite everything… 

You…

Enjoy the closeness of it all. 

You feel real.

Chapter Text

Later, as you adjust yourself into a more comfortable position so your arm does not hurt, Stardust manages to trap you further— they pull at your hand yet again, and you are not fast enough to stop them. They pull not only your hand, but your arm as well, forcing it to bend in such a way so that they’re hugging it with both of their own, disentangling them in favor of letting it rest between their cheek and the crook of their neck.

It happens quickly. Stardust is still sleeping; there’s no way they’d do that while aware of their actions. Or maybe they would. What do you know?

You’re frozen for a good while after it happens. Just… processing. Trying to contain the rapid beating against your chest, the ringing and rush of blood (?) over your ears (?), maybe. It went from a crumb of touch to almost too overwhelming far too quickly.

…

In and out, you breathe.

Stardust can’t be blamed for it, really, but you’re still mad and considering yanking yourself away, consequences be damned.

But you’re a coward, so you don’t. Instead, you scoot yourself a little bit closer to ease the uncomfortable position, laying on your side, and stare at him. Deep in his slumber, squeezing your arm from time to time, expression peaceful, the light of your star coating their features softly (it’s a wonder how he can sleep with your light, but whatever).

Either way, this is hardly too different from the intertwined hands, it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just Stardust being cuddly and needy, even in slumber. Being horrible as he usually is. They should get a plushie or something.

…

However…

You feel the warmth he gives off, now. You feel the warm puffs of breath falling on your skin (?). You feel the softness of his face, feel the steady rhythm of their heart, feel the thin fabric of their night clothes, could feel the distantly familiar skin of his neck if only you moved your fingers a cinch closer.

It’s not any different, is it? It doesn’t mean anything, does it?

…But. You’re not stupid. You do indeed avoid and dance around many things, but you’ve never been as dumb as you claim yourself to be, at least not when you really, really want to be.

It is. It does.

Encore? Encore.

Come to think of it, perhaps the actual first time that cascaded these awkward touches situation was, indeed, your fault.

A memory takes you back to under the Favor Tree, legs kicking away, though even this movement is distant, practiced soothing motion repeated so many times that you could almost forget you were doing it (you needed to do it at certain times, to keep yourself sane. If that worked or not, it’s left to debate that a simple memory cannot truly answer). You were observing things from your Stardust point of view, just to have something to stave away the incessant boredom. It had been several loops already, (you’ve lost count of your own already, why count theirs?), many of which you watched, somewhat entertaining to see Stardust trudging along the murky waters of your memories (maybe you’d get to keep those), somewhat fascinating and deeply haunting to witness sights and details you'd much rather forget about at that point. 

For someone as forgetful as Stardust is, they certainly liked to go through everything in the House, presumably due to the embarrassment of multiple missed traps and keys to add to the collection of failures and dumb, silly deaths. You don’t blame them for that, as the phantom of the same ugly feelings passed through you, you'd be a hypocrite if you denied doing the same. At least until… ha, of course, you’d eventually stop checking everything, only focusing on the strictly necessary bits of the trek to the King. 

Anyway. One room in particular that you’ve noticed Stardust going to was the very big plants room, the one where everything was cramped and hard to navigate as a party. You’ve started calling it their touch therapy room.

You watch as they attempt touching the party, a fleeting and shy little poke to a cheek, a side, wherever most convenient, things that naturally got reactions out of the party, surprised that their friend willingly sought touch. At first, you’d smile and giggle with yourself: how did Stardust manage to be so dumb and cute at the same time? The party surely wouldn’t complain if he asked for a hug or two, they were just awkward and misunderstood. Easily solvable issue. If only.

It quickly devolved into something far less amusing. 

You understand; the need for touch consumes, screams, hollers at you if it is a desirable act repressed for so long, desperation starts to settle in the longer you go with it unchecked, its massive maws poised to bite and maim and tear and consume. And Stardust… was being consumed.

Touch exposure therapy was dangerous, you knew it from the start.

Yet you did nothing to stop him (would he have, if you tried?).

Why?

Because you wanted the satisfaction to see him fall into the same pathetic state you did? Because you believed him to be better than you, capable of rationalizing the situation as it unraveled itself? He’s smarter, could figure it out that the lack of reaction wasn’t their fault.

You suppose it’s not that simple.

He comes back to you after one loop with a distant, haunted expression on their face, the familiar twinges of one who was barely aware of where they were going. So, naturally, you take it upon yourself to bring them back to reality the only way you know how: by annoying them. 

It works. 

But you see the way he recoils into himself. You see the way he doesn’t react the way you expected, and, and…

It’s such a familiar sight. 

You can tell exactly what’s going on through their mind.

You never dared to question what it is that made you reach out to Stardust at that moment. You still don’t dare to question it, in dream or memory. Fact is: you did what you wished someone had done for you, and reached out.

A simple thing. Something you’ve done hundreds of times before. 

Poke.

You’re here. I see you. Unsaid: You’re real.

For that moment, it works. Stardust comes back to you, terrified, surprised, so many expressions that you didn’t want to see reflected back at you. They’re like a skittish cat, sucking in a breath and holding it for a few seconds before your actions register.

Then comes the smile.

You’re also there, with him.

Because you’ve never been given any other choice. 

Because they were all that’s left. 

Isn’t that ironic?

At the end of the day, when you reached this same situation so long ago, who did you have beyond yourself to remind you that you were the only real thing in the loops? No one. It’s only you. Only you to remind yourself that you were the only one who remembered. The one who remained. 

The one who was forgotten.

You can’t tell if you regret the action or not, though recently you suppose you should. Was it this, then, that brought you here?

It’s difficult not to compare your diverging situations between selves, the little things that initiated the snowball of what it was today. How you reacted, what it did to you, and how they differed. Harder still was to not wonder if you, in their place, would’ve reacted the same way. Would you? Your Stardust was so much sweeter than you. All the gentleness and altruism that you no longer had. The universe made sure to carve that out of you to weave it into him, instead.

You resent them for this. 

Yet you still did it. 

Why? The answer is annoyingly simple: you wanted your Stardust to reach inside themself, and still find something.

Of course, your musings are only thrown inside your own brain, and much like the Universe, it likes to bounce back nothing but silence.

The memory shifts, again.

Stardust is looking at you, silently waving a flower towards your direction— merely another addition to the script as of late. He doesn’t say it, but you don’t need to hear to know what his gaze communicates: flower for you!

You don’t understand why he’d do that. 

It’s not like you encouraged it, either. No, you made sure to add some snide and let your carefully concealed anger surface as you refused it time and time again. A flower is for people (you can barely be called that, anymore) that hold some degree of importance, people you cared about, like their party, and your Stardust knew better than anyone else how meaningless this action was. Physical things fade. Nothing lasts, no matter how much you cling to them.

On the merit of considering all of the facts: you suppose you were also angry at Stardust for how he treats this flower. Given to everyone else, including people that hardly mattered, people that absolutely did not deserve it (you still remember the massive hands of the King accepting it, holding it delicately, as if those same hands were wholly incapable of the cruel act they’d commit later on). The offering to you was nothing more than them testing something new, and who else could he wrench a new reaction from. You didn’t want to be another item on their list.

Did you want to be special, be the only one to receive it, even if it was fleeting? Hah! Laughable. How pathetic of you. Pathetic Loop, here to be added to the cast of actors. Just another one.

Stardust is stubborn. Incredibly insistent. So were you. You entered the script of the attempt of gifting as easily as you entered any other script, and placed in them the same expectations as you kept repeating your lines. Eventually, either the loops break, you die for good, or he gives up.

Except. Things got worse. More than his increasing loss of self in the very big plant room. Something tugged at your chest as you witnessed your Stardust’s mind decline further with their options dwindled.

When Stardust offered you the flower again, you could’ve claimed you were tired of denying, that you grew annoyed of these games and scripts and ghosts and everything else, but. 

You weren’t.

You see him up close for the first time, then, as Stardust approaches you to deposit the flower on your splayed hand. A look of wonder, of excitement, and an action that undoubtedly ruined you: a tiny, fond little smile, the only genuine action he’s been displaying lately. 

You don’t know how to react to this, so you don’t say anything.

The flower is exactly as you’ve come to know it: bright, pretty, fragile. It 's merely a flower, one of the many that can be found all over Dormont.

You feel sick as he retreats.

Try as you might, you can’t bring yourself to pluck away any of its petals. You keep it in your lap for the whole of that loop, and you do not react when, like everything else, it fades with the reset of the loops. What did it matter?

When Stardust offered you the flower yet again, you could’ve one more time refused, claiming that their insistence makes you uncomfortable, and you were sure this would be enough to make them stop, but.

You didn’t.

You accepted it every time.

You never thought much of it, when it kept happening time and time again, a new script, a new ritual. Later, there’s no point; both far too gone to stop.

You don’t see them offer it to anyone else, either. The flower only ever found its way to you and your lap, and there it remained until it inevitably got erased again.

Were you supposed to feel special about that?

Because you didn’t, and you still don’t. No, it only served to hurt you further, in the last loop, where caught in their own spiraling, Stardust did not give you anything, only shouted accusations and words that pierced and stung you, reminding you of how utterly disgusting and vile you were, still are, for not nipping this in the bud. 

The memory shifts yet again, and by this point you are not so sure what else it is that you’re supposed to consider to justify this moment. All of these memories are meaningless now, you know this, no matter how much you prod at them and try to find answers, none of those will change the facts: that when you wake up, your Stardust will still be cuddling or holding your hand, that you don’t care as much as you should about this, and that…

…

…

You’re… still here.

You’re still real.

You’re here.

You’re real.

You don’t deserve any of this.

You dream that you were afloat at sea, body slowly rocking away while the waves crash into you. You're helpless to fight against the sea’s whims as it carries you along.

You feel unsteady when you wake up.

You do so slowly, still groggy from the fading memories and dreams. There’s a pleasant little feeling around all that you are, a comfort that washes you away, a fog that clouds your mind and leaves you somewhere soft and oh so comfortable. A place where nothing matters.

Then you remember why this strikes you as odd.

The hazy feeling starts to fade just as slowly when you open your eyes to gaze at your Stardust.

Oh. Look at that, they’re no longer cuddling your hand, at least not the same way you’ve left them. Your fingers are back to being intertwined, arms touching, and, ah, ew, that’s so weird to think about, what in the cosmos!

…

…You squeeze it, ever so carefully. It sends another pleasant little tingle through you. 

Stardust sighs, and a beat later, they return the press. Their eyelids flutter, and…

Uh. Uh?

“Mmm? Loop?”

Oh no. OH NO.

You quickly close your eyes. Never mind. Nope!

“I know you’re awake.” No they don’t. Shut up. “You’re shining brighter.”

Damn the Universe and the traitorous body it gave you. Why?! Of all the things…

You… begrudgingly open your eyes again. Stardust has their one squinted a little, a mischievous smile in their expression as they stare back. You huff.

“Good morning.” They greet. “…Is it morning?”

“Uh,” you strain your ears (?) past the sleepiness. You can hear the faint noises of the party outside, along with the sizzling of a pan. “I think so?”

They hum back at you. You notice they still do not let go of your hand.

It’s getting awkward again, soooo:

“A-Anyway!! Are you feeling better? You looked like a mess last I saw you.”

“Yeah, I do.” They sigh. Absentmindedly, they start to caress your hand again, and oh dear oh boy oh stars. “Though… I hate that I slept this much. again.” What, half a day and the night? Yeah.

“And dragged me with you! How dare!” 

Looks like that was both the wrong and the right thing to say, because Stardust’s cheeks darken, and they giggle.

“So you’ve stayed all this time with me?”

…

OH NO!!! They weren’t supposed to know!!!

“…No. Ew.” 

It’s too late for you, for many reasons, one of them being that you still don’t reclaim your hand (because you’re a coward). Not even the comment makes him back down. 

“I thought I was, what, cuddly and needy and annoying and…” Oh no. Oh no. You know that look. “A hand-ful.” And for dramatic effect, they pull both of yours a little up, just to rub the fact in your non face.

You groan.

“No. Bad. Horrible.” You kick their shins. Stardust laughs.

“Okay, whatever you say, Loop.” Ugh. You want to run. “…But, thank you.”

…

“…I… didn't do it for your sake, you know.” The whisper escapes you. You wish it didn’t. 

You're selfish.

His brows furrow.

“Were you supposed to?” The question, embarrassingly enough, surprises you.

“I… don’t think so?” Does it matter? It shouldn’t. 

Either way: you should let go.

“Plus… doesn’t this go both ways?” 

“Hmm?” You almost don’t register the statement.

“I mean. Touch shouldn’t be only for the sake of one of us. If… if you’re being selfish and getting something out of it, too, that’s fine. Because I also am. That’s how it works.”

…

“Can you stop saying it like that.”

“Like what— oh stars what have you done. Ew, ew, ew, gross!??!” 

You snort.

“Teehee!~” he glares at you, unfortunately immediately stopping the nice trail of his finger.

“Why. You ruined it all!” 

Many reasons. Mainly: it’s funny.

“I’m not the one saying it like holding hands is the most scandalous thing ever~” You continue, relentlessly. “Or maybe it is. What would the Fighter say!” 

That gets them. You receive a retaliatory kick on your shins, making you cry between giggles. 

“Don’t make this even weirder, please. ”

Might as well do, so they refuse to try again today. You know they will. Plus, torturing them is fun, and they deserve it!

“Why not? Do you not wanna be intimate with little ol’ me?” If you still had a mouth you’d pout. Either way, it gets the desirable results, Stardust groans and lets go of your hand (aw) in favor of pressing both of their palms against his face. You still laugh.

“Shut uuuup! It 's not like that!” Their face is revealed again. There is a lovely dark shade coating it. Uh-oh. Don’t be weird like that. Quiet! “Why are you like this?” Why indeed. There’s something wrong with you. Several somethings.

“Teehee!~ You’re just so easy to tease, Stardust!” 

They huff.

“Whatever. It’s not weird.”

“If you say so~ If it makes you feel better, I’ll try not to judge your freakish tendencies~”

Stardust stares at you.

“I know what you’re doing.” 

“Hmm? Whatever do you mean, Stardust?” You blink so sweetly at them. Do you still have pretty big eyelashes? You’d like to. Another for the list of things to test.

“You’re deflecting again.” 

Woopsies!

“Whaaat, meee? I’d never do such a thing! How could you ever suggest that! I’m wounded, Stardust.” You add to your performance a bit of dramatic death pose flair.

Despite themself, they giggle.

“Uh-huh, you, you always do this! Don’t think you can hide behind jokes from me!” 

“But I want tooooo~” You whine. “Won’t you let me?”

“Hm…” They scrutinize you, a finger to their chin. Is your dramatics getting to them, too? It’s even weirder to see them in your Stardust. Is that what you look like? Fascinating. “I’ll let you off the hook for now, don’t think you’re free from having a feelings talk.”

You don’t say anything.

You’re still being stared at, greatly uncomfortable. Stardust is trying to find something in you that doesn’t exist, will never exist.

“A-Anyway! We should get you a stuffed animal or something!” You say.

Stardust rolls their eye. Also tired from the bit, it seems. 

“I’d rather not. This is nicer.” 

“Is it?”

“M-mhm…” their gaze diverts again. The blush returns. The memory of what they said, yesterday, flashes before you. I like knowing that you're here. “I… I think I used to sleep like this, holding hands, before…?” Oh. Their expression shifts. “Or I wanted to… what about you?”

…did you?

“Can’t remember.” Shrug. Before Stardust can utter the apology you know that’s on the tip of his tongue, you say: “You’re the needy one here. Maybe you simply discovered you like to be a freak and hold hands to sleep, instead of hugging a stuffed animal or something.”

“Yeah right, like you don’t.” Pot meets kettle, yeah, yeah. A roll of their eye. And body. They face you. You glare back. Is he gonna ask to hold hands again? “Loop… You… wanted to, too, right?”

…Ah. 

…You know what this is. The memory is… still fresh, in your mind. It flashes through unwillingly, making you wince, and quickly enough you shove it away, on a corner of your mind where you won’t think about how your Stardust, yet again, got something you never would. You don’t think about it. You don’t think about it. You don’t think about it.

You pull a breath in. 

He’s making you think about it. Why? Why do you need to?

Don’t. Don’t do this, not now. You know why. You know this isn’t about torturing you, not this time. So don’t.

Point of the matter: This isn’t something you can deny anymore.

…

As much as you want to.

“I did, Stardust.” It’s weird to admit it. The words make your non existent mouth and lips get coated with a sour taste, despite the fondness (gross) that accompanied them. You consider adding something more, but— the admission would cement further what you already made real, and that’s. Mortifying. Ugh. 

They study you for a few seconds. Into judgement you go, weighing down the scales to determine whether you’re lying or not (are you?) .

“Okay.” Mercy granted. Yay? 

…

Whatever. It went back to being awkward. You don’t like how he keeps looking at you, because, well, now it feels like he’s seen something you didn’t want them to see, and you. Kind of hate that. Ugh. Gross and horrible.

…

Ugh.

Outside, there’s still noises, but unfortunately for you, it seems the two of you either hadn’t been loud enough to attract the party’s attention, or they don’t want to interrupt… whatever this is, which… is worse. Geez.

Time to shift tactics!

“Either way, Stardust, have you told your party you like touch yet?”

That embarrasses them. They make a noise akin to a squeak. It’s very cute.

“Um, yes.”

“Huh! Neat!” …Hm. Why you, then? ”So? Are you getting what you need?” So they can stop bothering you. Before it’s too late (it’s already too late).

“I guess?”

“Oh goodie. That’s settled then, you can stop being awkward with me! Ask one of them for hand holding instead!!”

They look uncomfortable at the suggestion. You don’t understand.

“…It’s still weird to ask. The others, I mean.”

“It’s literally the same thing.” You deadpan.

“No? It isn’t?”

What!

“What do you mean it isn’t? Why?”

They shrug. 

You let out an exasperated; “You’re impossible.” To which as a response, they wink.

…

Well. Whatever was left of your social battery is gone now, along with the feelings that left you in a good mood to begin with. You don’t want to say anything anymore, so you close your eyes.

“What about you, Loop?” Sigh. Can’t they go eat or something. Leave me alone!!

“Hmm?” You open only your working eye to gaze at them. Stardust has an awkward expression, nose wrinkled. Clearly trying to be better at communication is a chore. At least they’re trying (unlike you).

“How are you doing?” 

Haha! You can’t help but giggle.

“You know how.”

“…Not in a good mood, I assume?” Not anymore, no.

“No, Stardust.”

They look apologetic. You don’t want to hear it. You close your eyes again.

“It’ll get better” they say instead, and you suppose that’s good enough to not earn another strangling or punching, even if you don’t believe it. 

There’s so many things you want could answer to this. ‘Will it really, Stardust? Yet another day and they’re still not my party. I can't take it. I don’t know how long I can keep doing this, Stardust. Yet another day and I’m still trapped because of your whims. It’ll only get better when I leave, Stardust, but you could never let me go, because you’ve learned nothing about change and never will. The universe doesn’t care, Stardust, it doesn’t want me anymore, so I have to do the job myself, except you won’t do it for me nor let me do it. They remind me so much of what I can’t have, Stardust, but no matter how much I wish for it, they’re not my family, and they’ll never be, you can’t make them be mine because they’re all but copies meant for you, not me, because you’re better and you’ve won and I, the loser, don’t deserve anything at all. How can you expect me to feel better, when I can’t feel a thing anymore beyond what you give me? I am stuck in a prison you’ve made me, Stardust.’

None of those are good. Quiet down, Loop.

Ultimately, you settle on this:

“I don’t know about that, Stardust, but… Whatever you say!” It’s not like you can refuse, no matter which of the options you pick. Go with the less confrontational one.

You’re curious what expression he’s making, so you peer at them. Still apologetic, now it is laced with confusion, guilt, and something else. …You tire of this. “Now, aren’t you hungry? Slept a lot and all~ Should eat to get the energy for traveling~”

“Oh! Shoot, that’s right, I am pretty hungry”, typical of them to just realize this now. They sit up. “Are you joining me?” 

“No.” You’re… not in the mood to watch, nor face yet another attempt of being included that is just going to make you feel miserable all over again. It’s fascinating, isn’t it? The day barely started and it’s already been ruined. Can’t have anything. You never learn, do you? Haha.

…

“…Okay.” they don't go yet. “Please talk to me if there's anything I can do.” You don't say what you want, just hum. “We… both know what bottling up our feelings leads to.”

You groan again, annoyed, mostly to indicate that you're listening and make him leave already. You’re already so tired of thinking. Too tired to even laugh at his advice. Tired.

With Stardust relenting, you hog the blanket. Close your eyes, try to think about something else, even though none of that saves you from having to hear the clasps of their (your) cloak or the greetings of the party when Stardust comes out.

With your luck lately, you suppose you won’t be able to tune out, because, as you’re quickly realizing, that’s kinda hard to do when you’re constantly overwhelmed with the onslaught of new things happening, uncomfortable yet not enough to ignore everything else. How many days is this after the loops, now? Two, three, four? So many more than you thought you’d ever see, ahaha, look at that!!!

Bereft of many options, you listen in.

“Siffrin! Good morning!” Housemaiden greets. 

“Did you sleep well?”

“Frin!! You CRAB! You’re FINALLY awake!” Kid, sounding entirely too mad about it. “I was getting ready to go kick down your and Loop’s butt.” 

“Please don’t do that, Bonbon.” Stardust. More greetings are exchanged.

“…Anyway! How was your sleep, Sif?” Fighter. “You look much better!”

“I do feel better, yes! I slept well. Solid 9 sleep.” You’d rate yours as a 6. Average.

“What about Loop, are they doing okay?” Hm. Why is the Housemaiden asking? It doesn’t matter, she shouldn’t worry about you.

You don’t see it, but you imagine your Stardust shrugs. “Yeah, they decided to sleep in.”

“Hm. Did they not immediately sleep when you asked for their company?” Not really, no. You don’t know.

“Dunno, I pretty much crashed out.”

“Oh no! Are they craft exhausted too and we didn’t notice?!” Fighter. You dislike this line of questioning, and are suddenly very glad you’re not in the spotlight of it. 

“Can stars get craft exhaustion…?” Housemaiden wonders. Here’s the kicker: you don’t know! “Loop shouldn’t be, but, um…”

“No, they’re not,” Stardust. “At least I don’t think so.” Yeah. You’re just depressed sleeping. Can’t be sad if you’re asleep.

“So they’re not joining for breakfast?” Kid. No, thank you very much.

“Boniface, need I remind you that they can’t eat? Don’t push them. It’ll only make Loop uncomfortable.” Exactly!!! And it’s just you!!! You don’t matter!!! Better to just pretend you’re not here at all!

“…I know that!” Kid huffs. You can imagine them crossing their arms, the cute little pout appearing in their features as an expression you came to associate with them thinking. They’re always thinking about something.

…

Not yours. Stop.

“Do make sure to wake them up later, so we can keep moving.” Researcher.

“Yes of course, m’adame.”

“Oh yeah by the way, Sif, do you need help dismantling your tent?” 

The conversation becomes inane. You’ve lost interest. Their voices register, in a distant sort of way, where you’re aware they’re talking, and it’s nice to hear, but you’re not truly paying attention. Doesn’t matter!

and despite what you tell yourself, it’s still so nice to hear them, their voices washing over you, pleasant, sending you into much a similar haze of when you woke up earlier.

It’s been so long since you’ve heard them last.

…

…

…

You have no idea how much time passes until your Stardust comes to officially wake you up. You blink for several odd moments, confused. Huh, weird. Did you sleep again or did you just zone out so hard that it feels like no time at all has passed?

…Nope! Doesn’t matter!

Eeeeither way, you get up, out of the tent, bringing your tiny clay hat and coin with you, and do your best to ignore Stardust’s party. 

“Hi Loop!” Housemaiden greets you, such a sweet smile on her face that for a moment, you strongly consider just running away and back into the tent, if only to escape the twisting of your gut.

With her greeting, others turn to look at you. You ignore them, only giving a non committal noise as a greeting. You find a tree to lean on, as they prepare to go about their business. Next city, of a name you didn’t catch, distance that you didn’t care about, and tents that got dismantled and belongings out away after an amount of time you did not want to know. What did it matter, anyway?

There comes a moment that you’re pulled back to reality for no reason whatsoever. One moment you were looking at trees, the next one you’re staring at your own feet as you trudge along, its starry qualities suddenly coming into fire to remind you of your nature. It’s nothing much more of your usual, and to you the landscape is as unfamiliar and deeply haunting as everything else. You hear and see the party, walking in front of you, listening to a story that the Fighter is telling. You see grass, pebbles, hear birds, hear the rustling of leaves and catch a whiff of the smell of grass as you continue to go, and register distantly a soreness to your limbs, a confusion on why you’re not feeling as tired as you ought’ve.

What does keep your attention the second you’re back is something completely different, expected in its own right. 

It’s your Stardust.

You’re looking at him between the group, walking, though unlike the others, he… does not look so attentive to the story Fighter is telling. And, well! You! Don’t really care! Really! It’s their problem! If they're zoning out then what do you care? 

Or that’s what you’d love to tell yourself, if not for the pangs that shake your being as you see the state he's in.

See, they're subtle about it. All those loops taught them to carefully hide things, keep them locked in a box and stash that box away from prying eyes. Only if you're a weirdo that pays far too much attention can you see these small signs of Stardust’s displeasure, the tiny creases of his eyebrows and the slight tension on their shoulders, hidden beneath the cloak. Well hidden exhaustion behind the heavy steps that crunches leaves beneath them. In short: your Stardust looks like he's getting increasingly worse as time goes on, and instead of asking the distracted group to stop their traveling, they press on.

And they would keep on not saying anything.

Aaaah. That's quite silly of him, honestly!

But! His problem. Surely someone else would notice and ask, wouldn't they? Their Fighter surely kept a close watch of them at all times. Or the Researcher. Or their Kid. Or the Housemaiden. Anyone else. Anyone.

…

…

…

Ugh. 

Your Stardust was such a bother to care for, sometimes (all the time). Must you really do everything?

You sigh.

And… call to the closest person to you, which happens to be the Researcher.

“...Hey. Researcher?”

Unfortunately, that also attracts the attention of others. Fighter stops speaking. Quite suddenly you've gained the attention of all of them, making you shiver with a sudden chill on your bones (?).

“Yes, Loop?” She answers. 

“Um,” despite yourself, you can’t help the hesitation that comes through your voice. You don’t like making them wait. “Can we stop walking for today?”

“Why? We barely got any distance!” Kid complains, genuinely puzzled. You can feel the confusion of the others.

“Are you tired, Loop?” Asks the Fighter, with that easy smile of his. 

Things happen quite too fast for you to keep up with. Stardust looks a mix of confused with relieved. Researcher looks curious, annoyed, but understanding. Housemaiden worries. Kid’s annoyed.

“O-Oh! If that’s the case, we can stop!” 

You clasp your hands together. Spotlight on you, better do a good job, then.

“Oh, no, I’m fine. It’s Stardust’s that’s dying over there.” You point to him for good measure. He immediately jumps.

“Oh? Siffrin? Are you tired?”

“N-no…” He answers far too quickly.

“He’s lying~~~” You sing-song.

“Loop!” Hisses.

The party watches the interaction, mesmerized.

“They’re tired and don’t wanna say anything because they feel like they’re holding everyone else back~ Also they got freakishly good at hiding what they feel~”

And that’s enough to trigger outrage within the party. You take a step back to watch the chaos unfold.

“Siffrin. What did we tell you about speaking up.” Researcher, with the look of danger in her features. Ooh!

“Frin you CRAB!!!” The Kid hits Stardust, you can’t help it but laugh softly at the cries he lets out.

“Sif, buddy, it’s okay if you’re not feeling ok. Heck, it’s expected, even, you’re still sick!” 

“But I don’t want to be!” Whiny little fella. “I shouldn’t be tired this fast! We barely got any distance!”

“I mean yes but—“

“But you’re SICK!!!”

“Siffrin!!!” Housemaiden, oh my! It’s been a while since you’ve witnessed her this mad up this close. “You HAVE to tell us! Especially when it comes to your health like this! You promised!”

“Loop can’t be the one to inform us every time.”

Exactly, that’s not how this is supposed to work.

“Plus!!! If you push yourself too much, it’ll take even longer for you to get better.”

He huffs, retreating into his cloak and even trying to reach for a hat that’s no longer there, before his hands remember its absence.

“…I know.” Stardust looks like he’s about to die. You… don’t feel a tug on your chest (but you anticipate it). “But I’m delaying Bonnie reuniting with their sister.”

“Why are you in such a hurry for that?” Surprise surprise, it’s you that asks, and you only notice after more eyes turn to look at you. 

Surprise surprise, you get the Kid’s approval!

“Yeah!! Don’t worry about Nille, Frin, we sent her a letter to tell her I’m ok and that we're gonna take a while. So we get more time to hang out with you!”

Aw, ain’t that sweet.

Stardust relents, then.

“Ack, okay, fine!!!”

You’re feeling petty.

“What do you say then, Stardust?” You sing-song to get his attention. He looks mortified. “No clue? How about a ‘hey can we please stop before I die?’”

“Please don’t make jokes like that, Loop.” Researcher. Oh. Ouch, instant karma. Way to ruin your fun. You recoil into yourself. 

“Noted. Sorry, Researcher.” You’ll never say anything ever again, actually.

“…fine… can we please stop for a rest?” Stardust says anyway.

“No can do, we’re camping again then. That good with everyone?” Fighter. A choir of agreements, however annoyed, sound out. Stardust sighs.

“Regardless… Thank you for telling us on behalf of Siffrin, Loop.”

“Noooo!”

“If you complain too much, I’ll end up asking Loop all of the details of the loops.”

Oh no.

“I’ll gladly tell! Including the embarrassing sordid details.” You’d do it for the bit. It’d be sooooo funny.

“No spoilers!!!” 

You’re left alone for a few, as Fighter, Housemaiden and Kid go to search for a good place to set up camp. You’re left to rest along with Researcher and Stardust, who still looks embarrassed and very, very mad at you, refusing to say anything. You simply giggle. (It's good to see that, despite all of the protests, he does look grateful to rest his feet.)

…

Ah.

That was exhausting.

You look up at the sky while you wait. You feel as if you move just as slowly as the clouds do.

You get bored quickly enough.

They're back now, after finding a good enough clearing to set up tents, your Stardust not sleeping but sitting down instead, still annoyed at his body and the way it quickly got tired when a few hours of travel or killing Sadnesses were nothing but another day's work. Enough time has passed that it seems like his anger at your antics has burned, which, amazing, because you’re getting bored again.

You wait for a moment where your Stardust is not busy and the party is, then you join him, silent on your steps and subtle in your company.

“What’s up?” He asks, offering a small smile. You pretend something does not twist in your guts over this, and absolutely do not overanalyze whatever it is.

“Are you dying less now?” You try to keep your voice small. The party seems too busy to notice you, and you do not want to change this.

“Considerably. What about you?”

“Order my coffin before I die of boredom.” That gets you a snort. “Make it a glass one.”

“No, I’ll save you. Here.” He fishes the tiny hat iteration number 3 from his pocket, miraculously not destroyed from the trek nor the many minutes he’s spent sitting in awkward positions. Oh my! You snatch it. “Wait, I also have this for you.” You watch as he fishes a pocket knife, the kind of ones that hides their blade (good because who would keep something this sharp inside their cloak pockets oh my stars).

It makes another something twirl inside you.

“Asked Bonnie for a knife earlier. They gave you this. Said it’s old, but it should work.” Ah. You had… forgotten about that. Aaah.

…

“YEAH, and if it doesn’t work I have a spare fruit knife somewhere you could use.” The voice of the Kid, listening after all, interrupts the two of you. You both startle, though Stardust smiles.

You…

Don’t know how to react.

So you just look at the knife and Kid, speechless, moments of awkwardness passing. 

They were always so sweet, even beneath all of that anger you’ve always come to associate with them, the frustration of someone young still trying to navigate the world (you often feel like that, too). As sweet as—

…

“S-So?” Kid asks, a hint of uncertainty in their voice. The others have noticed and are now paying attention, too.

Something inside of you feels tight. Feelings, reactions, all feel distant. You think you might crush your tiny hat iteration number 3, let it become formless, spill between the creases of your fingers.

You suppose you should say something.

“Uh… Thank you, Kid. You… shouldn’t have.” Words feel like lead in your non-tongue. This feeling, distant, familiar, dangerous. You wonder what it is— you don’t deserve it.

“No problem!!” Kid smiles, so bright it hurts you all over again.

You think you might be breaking.

“And what’s that for, pray tell?” 

“Woodcarving.” Thankfully, Stardust answers for you. He’s still holding the pocket knife, which you still stare at, under the gaze of the Kid who does not look entirely convinced that you’re happy about the gift. 

You…

Take it.

It’s so simple. Tiny. It contains scratches and signs of wear and tear, the signs of a well loved item. You didn’t even know the Kid had this (did yours have one, too?), and that admission brings forth another level of a pang and sting to your insides. Who did it belong to, originally? Their sister? Was it a gift? 

And the thousand gold question: Why? Why give it away to a stranger no less? Why comply so easily to a favor that, to someone so uncertain and untrustworthy as you, might as well be used as a weapon (you would never)? It looked precious.

It doesn’t belong with you.

“Oh, neat!”

“Do you like woodcarving too, Loop?”

“Oh, something you share with Siffrin, I see.”

They’re oblivious to your internal conflict, of course. Perhaps only Stardust might be aware of it, as they cautiously poke your side, a question etched in their expression. An expectation.

Then a realization.

You’ve been careless. They’ll— they’ll know— they must know (but didn’t they already know?) (did they?) (do they?) (would it be so bad?) (yes) (yes it would) (no it wouldn’t) (wouldn’t it?) (it wouldn’t change anything).

You try to say something but you can’t. Only a strangled noise comes out. The weight of the knife in your hand feels heavy and tempting. No, no.

“Um, yes!” Somehow you find your voice. It sounds so shaky and on the brink of madness. Not even you believe its haunting string of melody. “I, uh…”

“What sort of things do you carve?”

It’s a question you can’t answer. When was the last time you… that you…

everything is so familiar and so alien that it makes your head hurt, something so poignant, that try as you might, you can’t… you can’t… remember…

You don’t want to be in this conversation anymore.

“Um…” like a gaping fish devoid of a mouth you utter. Do they wait for you? Would yours have? No, no, no. Stop. Stop! “I-I haven’t done anything specific, lately.”

“So it's a new hobby?” Fighter who looks and sounds and acts so familiar answers, everything’s the same down to the twinkle of genuine interest. 

“Ahaha, you could say that, yes.” But you sound shaky and wrong and awful and like a copy yourself, a disgusting little thing that regrets so many things.

“I’ve noticed you’ve picked up clay sculpting too.” Researcher who looks and sounds and acts so familiar asks, everything’s the same down to the rough edges of her expression and the pointed sharpness of her words, so rough yet so full of affection, even if she pretends she’s not.

“That’s good! I took a clay sculpting class myself,” Housemaiden who looks and sounds and acts so familiar says, everything’s the same down to the shine of excitement of her eyes, so bright and full of affection when she lets it, you’ve always thought she looked beautiful when she let herself shine. “Though I never picked it back up… If you want, we could pick up some more supplies next town, and we could try together!”

But…

But…

But…

They’re

They’re not

They’re not yours not yours not yours they were never yours they were never—

“That sounds nice, Mira. I’m sure Loop would love that.” 

You would, the worst of this is that you would but not with her not with this one because she’s not yours and even if you stopped to consider the opposite that sounds and tastes to rotten in your non tongue that it makes you as nauseous and makes something itch down in the throat you shouldn’t have makes you want to use that new knife to cut it down and find if you truly have it is that you don’t deserve it you never deserved it there’s no way she would ever want or need to because… because.. your touch taints and corrupts and clots and none of them needs any of all the horrible things that you are

“Did you have anything else you’d like to get on the next town, Loop?” 

“Books,” Stardust supplies, you don’t know if you’re grateful or not for his help, maybe not, maybe yes, ahaha, you don’t know, you don’t know! You didn’t ask for this, you just wanted— Ah, your tiny hat is definitely ruined, now, you’ll have to make another, and your vision is… is… blurry? There’s no tears, you don’t feel the sting of them, but it’s blurry, this is weird!!! “They said they’d like to read.”

“…What kind of books?” 

You don’t know, you don’t know! 

“Uhhh,” you don’t know if that’s you or your Stardust. Does it matter who it is? “Not Chateau Castle. Plays. Fantasy, drama, romance, a little bit of psychological horror is fine, not too heavy.” A pause. Then. “…Joke books.”

“Don’t tell me Loop is just as horrible as Frin and Za.”

“I’m afraid all I have at the moment is technical or philosophy.”

“That’s all boring.”

“No Chateau?! Well, I suppose that’s fine…”

“We kinda already read a lot of it during the loops…” Stardust supplies.

“…WHAT?! What did you think?!”

“Um.” You need to say something. You need to run. This hurts. It hurts.

“Hey guys? I think we should back off a little. They look a little overwhelmed.”

Yes!!! Yes you are!!! You feel like you’re on fire! Like you’re gonna die at any moment now! This isn’t right, it isn’t, it isn’t, it isn’t!

“Oh…” yet Stardust voice still reaches you. “Loop?”

You can still look at him, though he too looks blurry and suddenly everything is so so loud, the silence is loud. 

You wonder what face you’re making, what emotion you’re still capable of expressing. You’re wrong here. You don’t belong. You can’t make the face to express what you’re feeling because you don’t have one. You shouldn’t be here.

“Do you want to go back to the tent with me?”

You don’t know what you answer. You don’t know what you want.

You’re made of nothing.

You let yourself be led anyways. He gently takes the pocket knife from your hand, stashing it away again, and you wonder why is it that you feel a pang at the absence of it, it shouldn’t be yours but it was yours the Kid gave it to you, it’s yours it’s yours it’s yours 

Stardust hands wraps around yours, and, and

It’s night. 

He asks about it again.

“Hold my hand until I fall asleep?” And this, the third time, comes the question easier than the first two times, spoken with a tiny little smile. He looks at you with so much sweetness, and you, well, you always knew, you could have denied one million times and none of them would have been true because you’ve always been a hypocrite that builds their walls in lies and walls built on lies are easy to crumble. You’ve always been a coward, and a cowards gambit is a feeble attempt, always doomed to fail from the start.

You feel disgusting as you accept it, but accept it you do, and perhaps today, tonight, you would not drown in a puddle of your own (blood) tears and instead would relish the touch and the sweetness that such a simple little action brings.

You dream of a sky full of stars, stars, stars all around you. 

You're one of them.

A hand holds yours, one of the stars, brilliant and radiant, a jewel of the sky. It pulls you into a hug, so warm and wonderful, and for a moment you're awash with an unnamed feeling so tender that it threatens to shatter you, destroy all the foundation of your being. It is your Stardust and it isn't, it's a star you orbit and it isn't, it's many many more, pulling you with them and no that's not right either, it's your Stardust and it's the universe and its many little stars and it's the entire sea of twinkling nothing that encompasses it all, and all of those, all of those feelings, embrace you.

Them, it, all, encompass the entirety of what you’re made of, holds you so sweetly that whoever's down at the earth could no longer tell where your light started and where they, it, his light ended. 

You dream you were being held in a sea of stars.

Here at the start of it all, you are his echo.

Chapter Text

Are you normal now?

Answers inconclusive. In fact there are many, many questions on your mind that you want answered, like for example: what just happened, how much time has passed, and what is going on? Did you wake up or something? Zone out too hard, maybe? You sort of just… became aware of yourself rather suddenly, thrown into reality to sort through the myriad of feelings, thoughts and questions that awareness brings.

Back to the original question: you'd very much like to be normal again, ahaha, everything’s so overwhelming, what is going on, oh stars you hate everything and everyone and every single thing alive, including yourself. You want to die. You want to perish, cease to exist, leave this plane, anything to stop feeling so much you keep feeling so many things and so many of them are conflicting, confusing, you hate it all, didn't you just wake up? Why are you waking up like this?

Okay, back up a bit. Make sense of the situation, as bad as it is. You're awake, okay. It's dark, you're laying down, okay, and… time… what time is it?

Wait. Wait. That's right. The party. They were talking to you, weren't they! You freaked out in front of them, didn't you! Then… then…

How many hours have passed since that breakdown? You don't know. You don't know anything.

Stardust? Where's…

Your hand. He's holding your hand. Sleeping. He's… holding onto you. In his sleep.

You wish he were awake. You wish he'd never wake up. He's so warm. You wish he was closer, melting onto you, and you wish he wasn't doing any of that because you're horrible and you don't deserve it and it hurts to receive any sort of affection you only make things worse like you made things worse however long ago that you were put into a conversation you didn't want to be a part of, received a kindness you most definetly didn't deserve oh now that's a different feeling right there, one that twists something in your guts, because all you've been doing is ruining things, and this particular feeling is getting dangerously close to wondering how his life would be if you weren't here (but you're smart enough not to dwell into this particular brand of suicidal thoughts, or at least you think you are).

You grip at his hand for some sort of comfort, and for a single moment it feels good, they’re so warm, so comfortable. It only lasts two seconds, gone far too quickly, still it's two seconds where you don't think about anything before it's back to self deprecating hypocritical party, where you try to remind yourself that this at least is okay, even if it means you're selfish because they're being selfish too isn't he and that's how these works that's what he said right except no no no no that's not true it can't be true he can't even consent because he's asleep you're just selfish and disgusting and you don't deserve this you don't deserve the sweetness he showed you as you started to freak out in front of a party you know you know you know it's not yours even if they look sound the same they're not yours, they were never yours, even if they were they don't even recognize you, but stardust yeah they're real they're here they're warm they're not completely disgusting like you are you only know how to take and corrupt and clot and destroy you're disgusting please please please make it stop—

He squeezes back and it's another two seconds you sigh in relief and back again in the torture of your own mind where, where…

Something hurts. Your eye…?

Are you crying?

You… don't know. Everything's fuzzy and distant and you can only think horrible things you're horrible yourself but you want to be held you want to be hugged you want to be loved you want to be someone else someone who deserves this but you're not you're not you'll never be and what is it even that you actually saying and feeling and thinking you're spewing nonsense nothing makes sense

you…

can't…

breathe…

… are you dying?

“Loop? Loop?” You hear and start to sob a little louder as Stardust tries to take his hand away like he damn should but you're disgusting and a coward you don't let him you shouldn't do this yet here you are crying loud enough to disturb their sleep can't even not exist right your very presence ruins everything please universe please don't let them leave you you're so tired you can't do this anymore you can't keep performing you can't keep dreaming and not having you want to have something you need to have something to not think about how they looked at you like you were a stranger when all you really want right is to be loved to be held to have them say your name but you can't breathe and you're crying and you think you're not going to die this is a panic attack isn't it why are you panicking what happened what's going on

“Loop, what's wrong?” They don't take their hand away but they look panicked and it worsens you, you lurch forwards a bit and sob, you're sorry you're sorry I'm sorry I'm so sorry you never wanted this “Please talk to me,”

Aaaah, aaah, no no no no 

You don't even know what's wrong! You don't! You don't know anything! Maybe it's everything! Maybe it's the fact that you're intruding in something that you could have but don't because you're stupid and couldn't be the better version! Maybe it's seeing them talk to you as if you're familiar, as if they know you, maybe it's their voice, maybe it's because they were treating you as if you were worth something, maybe it's because you're starting to consider that these people these actors are actually your party no no no they're not they're not yours are somewhere else these are just copies imitations ghosts they're dead you've killed them youself didn't you didn't you didn't you

Their voice continues to be scared it's your fault you did this you keep messing things up why are you like this you should stop please please please you're sorry you'll keep it down you will be normal you'll do your best please please please don't leave you'll do anything please please

Stardust

Is

Squeezing your hand, still joined with his. Because you… were? At first? Didn't he…?

It feels so nice. You tremble all over, for a second your sobs might stop the tears and the pain and everything else all of the inky slimy lightless corruption inside spills at their feet, everything might just stop, but it doesn't. You're still here, and here you will be to feel all of these horrible things.

He starts those sweet little movements of his thumb that sends tingles down your spine, though they're more violent now maybe that's because you're trembling all over and everything kinda of sort of hurts maybe maybe maybe you don't know you know that now his other hand joins and they're encompassing yours and he's so warm so sweet how can they be so sweet to something such as you so horrible and terrible as you it makes no sense no sense at all

“Loop,” they repeat, it feels foreign as if it's not your name never was if it never belonged to you who are you then “You're here. With me. You're here.” That's the problem that's exactly the problem you don't want to be but you have to be that's the thing “I won't go anywhere. Okay?” Oh but it feels good how they press his arm against you and how nice it feels his other hand caresses you makes you think of your party of your face being held you want to be held like that again “Okay. Okay. You're here. At the tent. With me. It's just us.” Are you some sort of narcissist or something because his voice helps it could lull you back to sleep “Everyone else is asleep. Okay? You need to breathe, Loop. Breathe." and he's still touching you that feels so nice they grip back as you do as their jittery form starts to loudly breathe, slowly, you want to tell him that's silly stars don't need oxygen and you certainly never did as a star you don't think so you remember what they said before that still it helps because the action is familiar it reminds you of when you've meant something how long ago was that

but they said to do it, so you follow

biiiiig breath in

hold

breeeaaatheee out

biiiiig breathe in

hold

breeeeaaathe out

…

you feel nauseous

Several of your breathings are interrupted because suddenly it feels like you have lungs and you're nauseous and you're gonna spill words stuck in your throat out, and oh you feel awful, terrible, everything about your body that you've been ignoring due to being far far away struck you at once with such force that you almost wish you did not come back at all. Your eyes sting and you feel gross, which, weird, how can you feel gross as if there's salty tears stuck to your face if you—

Ah.

…

You want to be held.

You want hands, anyone's, to wrap around your face, pressed against where your cheeks should be, to look up at a face that regarded you with tender eyes and a sweet smile, like your Mirabelle did one time. You're desperate enough to wish for your Stardust to hold you, his hands to reach between you as they did before, pull you to them and hold you so close while staring at you like you're worth of something more than you believe yourself to be, like he could mend all of the cracks and fill all of the endless nothing within you, even if you felt like you didn't deserve it. 

Alas, you… Can't. Be thinking that. You really can't.

It's just…

Just…

Haven't you learned?

…

In…

And out.

In…

And out.

…

“Are you okay, now?” Stardust's voice. A tinge of worry, something sweet hidden beneath. you want to seek that out, bring it to the surface

Are you? 

you want to tear him apart piece by piece you want to sink your claws into his throat you want to kiss it better you want them to stop you and you want them to hold you

…

Normal enough.

“…Yeah.” Then something else shaped like denial gets stuck in your throat. “Sorry about that, aha. I woke you up.”

Stardust frowns.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

You do, though. They could be sleeping, which they actually need. Why worry about you? all you do is corrupt and clot and destroy you are a blight to this world a mere annoyance that not even the universe wants

You don’t say anything.

Stardust hums. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

No. You still don’t say anything, and luckily for you, your Stardust seems to understand.

"I'll be here if you want to tell me." You want to punch those words out of them, laugh at their face, ask what is their blinding problem to lay such an offer that they know you'll never take, ask why are they being so sweet to you when you don't deserve it.

You still don't say anything.

It gets awkward. You look away from your Stardust, trying to will yourself into thinking about nothing. This, of course, does not work, as some thoughts you really, really don't want to consider start to pick away at you, and you shouldn't rely on your Stardust to get you out of the crisis these particular thoughts will send you into, he needs to sleep, and maybe so do you? Did you sleep…? Did Stardust…?

They do look tired. Judging by the silence outside, you assume it's night still, you've possibly just woken them because… of whatever it is that was happening with you. Can't remember what started this particular breakdown. Memory's fuzzy, as if your head (?) is stuffed full of cotton. Everything's weird.

His hand continues to hold yours, as Stardust blinks slowly, worry coating their features. It seems to be an absent-minded action, the carress that sends little jolts of eletricity through your body. Their gaze suggests a collection of things unsaid, either because they can't find the courage to utter them or because drowsiness starts to take over. Probably the latter.

You watch with fascination as Stardust eye slowly droops, closing for a few moments, breathing steady, until they open again suddenly, resuming the movements, squeezing your hand a little harder. Trying to stay awake. You can't say you're particularly bothered by this. It feels nice.

You close your eyes for a moment, and sigh.

…

How much time did you lose…?

Stardust face's coated in your light. Bags under their eyes, not as terrible as the previous days. The squishness of their face that never seemed to left them, even in adulthood, even as the toll of wishcraft started to settle, denying the logic of the loops. The crease of his eyebrows. The rise and fall of his chest. Tired little thing, trying to look at you, make sure you're okay, even though they're tired. They're so sweet. There's no use in trying to stay up for your sake.

"Sleep, Stardust." You tell them, eventually. He gives you a whine of protest. "I'll be fine." Now that's a lie and you both know it, yet you don't think you can't beat his staring much longer.

A mumble. "…Okay. Wake me if you need."

"I will."

You won't.

You watch as he finally relaxes, falling into dreamland, hold on your hand not relenting. His breathing is a little raspy, on the verge of becoming a snore, which, against your better judgement, you start to find cute.

…

…

Now what?

You aren’t feeling sleepy, but you also aren’t willing to let go of Stardust’s touch, so you’re stuck wondering. What is it you would normally do at night (a flash of a horrible shades briefly crosses your mind)? Look at stars? You can’t do that in a tent, unless you were to make a hole on top, which surely nobody will appreciate. Logistics of how you would do that without letting go of Stardust aside, do you REALLY want to look at the stars? Do they still have meaning to you? they do they do they’ll always have it if only you could remember It’s not like you aren’t quite literally a living reminder of those, with stars filling your body and the star carved in place of your heart. Do you still remember any constellations? Could you, if you gazed upwards? …Maybe you don’t want to remember, maybe you’d rather forget everything, (would you?) you already don’t remember your past, or everything before the loops for that matter, and you don’t want to remember Stardust’s loops either, those are just another reminder that you’re a failure, that you struggled for nothing, that the solution to escape the hell you were trapped in was so, so easy, all along, it’s always been that easy, you just didn’t want to see it just like right now you don’t want to look at the stars, because why would you believe it, when you’re been stuck there for years and years, nothing seemed to change, the king was unbeatable, and you couldn’t even try to look for a stupid blinding book about shields?!

Ah. You’re shaking again.

That’s not good.

You don’t want Stardust to wake up, you already kept him up with your stupid silly behavior which they didn’t even need to help you through, the least you could do is… let them sleep.

… 

You should calm down. Calm down. calm down, Loop. You can do that, can`t you?

a flash of a memory– the faces of the copies, staring at you, and the horrible feeling that sticks to your ribs, traveling up to what remains of your heart to shatter it all again because, because, because, their smiles their words their tone and their kindness it’s all so f a m i l i a r 

Think about something else! Quick!

You think about food…

and quickly toss that thought away

Nope! You can’t eat and would rather not think about the times the Kid have been trying to get you to sit with them, you need to ram that fact into your head actually, that you can’t eat you can’t you–

think about… birds. Peeou, peeou!

And then you remember how the Researcher commented on you making a bird noise. Oh no. Ugh, ugh, ugh. Equally horrible thought, for entirely different reasons. You’re so embarrassing. Can’t even be normal. You’re so stupid– 

You think about your Stardust….

and quickly also crumple those thoughts to throw away because. Because. Oh stars. You don't even want to say it.

What is there to think about?!

You close your eyes. It is somehow worse and better at the same time, but you keep them closed, maybe if you think of complete darkness maybe then you’ll think of nothing, nothing, nothing.

Stop thinking. You need to stop thinking.

…

How does one stop thinking anyway?! Aren’t you thinking by saying you stop thinking? 

Ahaha. Ahahahah. Not even this you can do right, can you? You’d place your hands in your face (?) right now, alas, there is a hand holding yours and you still won’t let go you never want to let go you want to hold them forever you want to pull them towards you make them hold you make them kill you and you want to choke choke choke the life out of him and maybe not really oh aren't you so weird and terrible for thinking these sorts of things

…

Aaah…

…
…..

……..

You hear birds outside.

Huh. …did you fall asleep, or were your thoughts dragging on all night?

…

You suppose it doesn't matter.

What does matter right now: your arm's sore. If you slept, you must've done so in an awkward position or something while trying to not let go of Stardust's hand, owie ow ow… wait.

Speaking of.

"Good morning," A voice, Stardust's, puts a stop to your early spiraling. You suddenly notice he's still suqeezing, still carressing you softly with their hand, eye looking at your direction with some emotion you do not dare name.

You don't answer, not immediately.

"How are you feeling?" Stardust asks instead, possibly judging your lack of answer for grogginess of just waking up, which, in part, yeah, kinda true.

You… suppose you should answer this, however.

What comes out of you is a drawl-out groan. Of shame? Of embarassment? Both.

Stardust chuckles. You don't want to hear it.

"…What time is it." You finally find your voice.

"Dunno. Haven't got up yet."

You hum. Ignore the implications this lays. Ignore it.

"Our family's awake." He remarks, and something (you know what it is) with the whole phrase makes you grimace and want to pull away your hand.

"Your family, you mean." You're not the better version of yourself that you'd like to think you are, only the disgusting one that'd make a big deal out of simple wording like this.

Stardust lets out an exasperated huff.

"I am not going to argue with you this early in the morning." They say, mimicking the press of your fingers that you didn't realize you were doing. You want to tear him apart.

You're feeling horrible today.

"What if it's afternoon? Are you going to argue with me if it's afternoon?"

He simply stares at you. That one stare that speaks of utter annoyance.

Stardust is also no better than you, if that serves as a consolation (it doesn't).

"I'm going to kick you out of this tent." They say.

"Gasp! You wouldn't!" You bring your other hand to where your non-mouth would be. It's a little odd.

"I will if you continue to be insufferable."

"Scary!" Moment of whimsy gone. You stare back at them, and do not think about how all of this business is still, very weird. Quick! Think of something else! "Anyways~~ Why aren't you with your party yet?" No! Noooo!!! Bad Loop, bad!

Stardust's expressions shifts in a very funny way. The threat of violence from before morphs into embarassment, sadness, and… Worry? Is that right?

You're patient enough to wait for them to answer.

"Was worried about you." Ew. There's something else in there, though, you know this. "…And I don't really want to."

Despite yourself, there is softness still.

"Why not, Stardust?" Silence. A little nudge, then; "You can tell me. You know I wouldn't judge." Not very much at least! You mimick a movement of their own thumb against their hand. It seems to calm them.

"It's… A little overwhelming. Everything's new." Hmmm. Same issue as the other day, then. "And talking's hard." You understand. It's easier to listen. "I will, eventually. I'm just. Gathering the courage to go."

"Uh-huh." It's kinda funny. Even if it makes you want to punch him. "Isn't this what you wanted?" Too late, the question's already out. Might as well add this: "Go and relish what you have."

"Yes, but…" They frown, seemingly realizing something. "Are you saying this so I'll leave you alone?"

Whoopsies.

"Nooo. Of course not." Yes and no. Maybe.

"…Mhm. Sure." They know already though, so you're doomed. "I'll go when you do."

"Hey. Don't put the responsibility on me." You're horrible.

"Too late."

"Then we are stuck here forever. And ever." You don't want to show your face after that embarrassing display anyway. It's fine.

"So sad." They sing-song, entirely too similar to your own tone of voice. "Guess this tent is our grave, then."

"So it is! Until I kick you out." Or you're kicked out.

…Will the party kick you out? They should.

"Try it and see what happens."

You might have, were you not still feeling the effects of a lazy morning after… sleep, yeah, let's go with that.

Before you can find something witty to answer with…

"…By the way. They're also worried about you." Ugh. You do NOT want to hear it. "I think you were doing good yesterday. With talking."

"I don't want to talk about this~~"

A sigh.

"Fine."

Good.

…

Silence again. Will Stardust lose their patience soon, you wonder.

You… hope not. This is… nice.

You close your eyes, and don't think about how utterly ruined you are.

Hunger wins. You remain victorious over the fact that despite hunger being something you can still feel, you do not need to act upon it.

You do not remain in the tent unfortunately, Stardust drags you with them, so one victory and one loss. Bummer.

"Siffrin, Loop, good morning!" Housemaiden greets.

"About time you got up!! You crabs!!"

"Yeah, yeah. Good morning," Stardust waves a hand for the two of you.

"Someone looks grumpy," Researcher remarks.

"I'm not grumpy, I'm restless!"

"At least you look like you're feeling better!" Fighter.

"You too, Loop!" Kid says with a bright smile. You squirm in place, and don't answer. Luckily for you, Fighter easily continues the conversation:

"Are you ready to continue traveling today?"

"Yes!" Oh? So soon?

It seems that Housemaiden notices your silent curiosity. No! You're still so easy to read! No!

"Oh, um, Loop, preferably we'd make more stops for Siffrin, but… I'm worried…" Nod, nod. Being near civilization is the sensible choice should anything happen, you agree. "Autumn's a little late, but we still run the risk of sudden rains." Stardust perks up at the mention. "…Siffrin, no! I don't want you to catch a cold." He deflates immediately. Ha! "Anyway… I'd prefer if we were on an inn if it ends up raining."

…Hm. That's right. When's the last time Stardust saw rain? ...Yet another useless question for the pile.

"Boo. Are we too far from next city?" Stardust asks.

"More or less?" Fighter.

"More importantly, will you tell us this time if you're feeling too exhausted to continue on, oh secluded one?" Researcher.

"You HAVE to tell us, Frin. Or I'll bonk you." Kid.

They make a face at that.

"Or, worse yet… we'll have to ask Loop to tell us." Researcher has a mischievous smile. "Again. I believed they were willing to share, hmm, all of the sordid details, is that right?" Oh that's actually very funny.

"Yes indeed! And I will tell them!" You quickly put up your persona. "Aaaaall of your secrets!" Stardust straight up grumbles.

"Please don`t." He hisses.

"No promises~" You just smile sweetly.

"Then try not to hide things from us and there will be no need for that." Says the Researcher. You almost consider being a menace for longer, but..

Suddenly!

"…Wait. I just realized something." Fighter. "How… how will we get Loop into the city?"

"Oh no… you're right!" Housemaiden. "I can't believe it! It completely slipped my mind!!"

"…Oh. It slipped mine, too." Researcher.

Stardust shares your confusion, though you're faster to realize the causes of it.

"Huh? What's wrong with Loop? Why would getting them into town be a problem?"

"I mean. They do kinda …" Fighter trails off. What? Look disgusting? Horrible? Like a monster? "Attract a little more attention than usual."

Ahaha. Right.

"They look fine to me?" Kid. "They're a star, aren't they?"

"Yes, but!!!" Housemaiden. "You don't see… stars, everyday."

"Or star shaped people, for that matter."

You don't like this conversation. You silently gaze at your Stardust for help. He looks panicked.

"They were fine in Dormont though?" Kid again. "I get that they're spiky, but if they weren't a problem there…"

"Do not call them a problem, Boniface."

"Crab. Sorry, Loop."

"It's fine." You wave a hand dismissively. It's not.

"…Regardless," Researcher. "We don't want to cause a scene." And unfortunately your appearance fits unusual so well that they will need to do something about you. Ahaha. Right. Of course.

"W-what if!" Stardust. "We say it's a costume!"

There's some silence. As if they're assessing if Stardust is serious about the suggestion or not. It does sound pretty stupid.

"…Huh." Researcher.

"I guess… maybe…" Fighter.

"Wouldn't that be…? I mean…" Housemaiden's conflicted. Before you can wonder what she means;

"Or that they're in the middle of changing and don't want to show their face!"

…Is that how it works?

"People don't usually show themselves in the middle of their changing… Not until they're done." Fighter.

"Really?" Researcher. "Fascinating."

"I don't think that'd work either…" Housemaiden.

"Why not? Isn't change belief all about breaking tradition? Loop could be breaking tradition." Stardust.

"I-I mean…?!"

"That's not really how it works…"

You feel awful. Speak up:

"I can just not go to the stupid town."

"Sorry, not an option," Fighter. "You come with us."

"Yes." Stardust agrees, a fire behind his eye. You expect this from him, sure, but…

"Why?!"

"Because you're just a part of the party as everyone else?" Fighter question-says (you don't remember any cool words for this at the moment, you're overwhelmed okay!!!) as if it's obvious. It's not! You don't understand! You just cause problems! You aren't even supposed to be here!

As you move to say something… The Kid interrupts:

"You guys are being stupid, Loop was fine at Dormont and no one asked anything. Why would they ask now?"

They do bring up a fair point, but!!! It's Dormont! Other people won't offer the same grace.

"Because I look like a sadnesses?! No normal person looks like…" You wave to all of yourself. "This?!"

"I think you look cool." Surprisingly honest answer from them. "Sadnesses are uglier."

Stardust giggles at your side.

"Yes, Loop does look pretty cool, actually." Housemaiden. She's smiling.

"Mira and Bonbon are right! You're pretty cool!" Fighter. "Isn't that right, M'adame? Sif?"

"They do look…" oh no. No! "Positively radiant."

Laughter and a chorus of groans. Horrible. Jail.

This is terrible and awkward. You want to die.

"Let's not discuss the divine being handsomeness, please."

They all pause for a second. Excuse me?!

"Is it disrespectful thing to do?! Oh no!!"

"Is it…?" Fighter, contemplative. "I thought deities liked compliments…"

"It's… fine?" You say. Though you don't think you have a particular opinion over… getting compliments. Or being perceived as some sort of god.

"Loops just a normal guy. Gender neutral." Says Stardust, saving you from the stunlock you've been placed in. "Not divine or celestial at all. …I think."

"Yes. I mean, no. I'm not a god or deity or anything. I just. Look like this." For some reason. "Teehee!" For good measure.

"Oh, okay, phew! Then we can still say you look pretty cool!"

No!!! You hear a snicker. You might have to destroy Stardust forever.

"…I don't get it." Kid mumbles. Uh-oh!

"What exactly, Bonbon?" Stardust.

A pause.

"If Loop's not a god or a deity… What are they? A star, right?" Stardust nods. "What are stars, then?"

"The dots in the sky." They steal your answer easily.

Kid makes a face.

"I know that. That's not what I mean." You all patiently wait for their explanation or question to be formed. You have a few guesses of what it might be. You dislike all of them.

They address you with their question:

"Did you come from the sky?" Kid finally asks, settling for a completely different option of what you predicted. A not so bad option! Yay…?

"How did you know?" Comes naturally.

"Okay, so..." Kid is hacking their brain at something. You're not sure if you like it. Stardust is watching them, too. "Then how will you—"

"Bonnie," Stardust saves you. You breathe again. "Ease up with the questions, okay? They're shy and get overwhelmed easily."

"…Okay. Sorry."

"It's fine, Kid."

Except that it isn't. Kid looks away, a crestfallen expression painting their features.

…

…You feel guilty. If you were normal, then Stardust wouldn't have needed to save you, and then the Kid wouldn't be upset. But you're not, and now they're upset, and it's your fault. Why can't you be normal?

"Don't worry about it, Bonbon, we're not mad." Stardust tries, getting the Kid's attention. "Loop will warm up eventually, if you give them time." No you won't. A grumble. "They're like… a skittish cat." Stardust says, and you gasp. How dare he!

"Excuse me?! I am NOT."

"Sorry to break it to you, Loop, but you are."

There is absolutely nothing cat-like to your person whatsoever. How dare he!

"Oh? How so, Sif?" Fighter. "Care to enlighten us?"

Stardust shrugs, then waves to the entirety of you, as if that explains anything.

"Oooh! I see, I see." How?! What?! How does the Fighter see anything? He didn't even say a word!

There's a giggle from the Kid. Well then! At least your suffering had some use! Even though you're still flabbergasted! And offended!

"Oh, I can see that, hehe!" Housemaiden. What! "Kinda like Siffrin was when we first met them!"

No!

"You're right, they are very skittish." Researcher has a smile on her face. "Another feral cat we've tamed."

"Excuse me?! Stardust is much more of a stray cat than I am, thank you very much. And! We're missing the original point? Of getting me into the city without everybody panicking?"

Stardust sticks a tongue out at you. You will commit some sort of crime against him, after. After you spontaneously combust and cease to exist.

"Ah, yes, um, what are we doing about that…?"

Researcher pauses.

"I suppose… we'll just do nothing. see if anyone asks. And if they do, we'll say it's a costume or that they're in the middle of changing. If we don't make it into a big deal, then it won't be."

You don't know. Seems a little too convenient, but, hey, it's their decision. If you're chased out because you look like a monster then they can't say it's your fault.

"If none of that works, we can throw a blanket at them and say they're a shiny ghost!" Kid. That gets assorted giggles and snorts.

"Spooky ghost Loop." Stardust. Kid laughs some more.

You groan. You want out of this conversation already. If they insist on making plans on your behalf, then why are you here anyway? This is why you didn't want to come out of the tent!

"Rnghh…. I guess…" Housemaiden.

"Wait! Clothes! They could help disguise Loop a little bit?" Fighter now.

"Good idea Isabeau!" Housemaiden beams.

"What's your size, Loop?"

"Um." You may or may not have forgotten.

"It's okay if you don't know. Hmmm… You are pretty short…" Hey now. "So my clothes or m'dames wouldn't fit… but you're not Bonnie sized… hm…" HEY...

"Oh! Cloak!" Stardust raises said piece of clothing with their arm. "That could help."

Um?? What!!

"I-I don't see why that's needed?" You quickly chime in. "Researcher already said we can ignore it unless anyone asks??"

"I did say that." See!! "However. I agree that some clothes could help with reducing questions."

Betrayal!!!

"How come you lend the cloak to Loop but not to me?" Kid is a mix of awed and mad.

Stardust shrugs.

"Yeah that works! You're both pretty much the same size, hmm…" Fighter continues to prod. "It's a shame you don't have the hat anymore Sif, that'd help too."

"Hat Loop…?" Housemaiden. Looks like she's wondering the logistics of how a hat would work on your spiky head. You… also have no idea.

"If Frin didn't lose theirs, we could start a hat club…" Kid.

"Yeah…" He looks upset. "No hat club…"

"We'll get you another, if you want?" Fighter offers, because of course he would. "Maybe I can make you one."

"…I'd like that."

Ew. Blergh. Blargh. You join the Kid in making puking noises. Public displays of affection? Gross!

"…Anyway! Is that settled, then?" You'd like to move on from this entire interaction already. You're exhausted. No more social battery for the rest of the day. Year. Life.

"If that's okay with you, yeah!"

It's not, actually!!! Ahahaha. You don't know what you feel about the newest possibility of having the cloak on your shoulders again, even though you did often play with the idea of just snatching it before Stardust could wear it for the day (you've missed it so much you want it back it's yours you feel so cold without it couldnt you just—). And!!! That's not mentioning your feelings over going to a city, which you also don't want to do!!! There's gonna be people! That you don't know! They're gonna look at you and, and react some bad way and you, you…

You don't know if you can take it.

…Ahaha.

But you can't just refuse, can you? It's no longer your choice. Ahahaha. You never had a choice, did you? Ahahahaha!! How funny, how hilarious! Is the universe laughing? Is the Change God laughing?

…

Best not to think about it.

Chapter Text

Shortly after that silly little conversation where you get to decide absolutely nothing for yourself, you're being herded by Stardust to continue traveling. You decide to hang out away from the party, after bothering Stardust for your (your! Possession! Possessing things! What a neat concept!) knife, which you one hundred percent do not have another silent internal breakdown over. If the Kid decided to give it to you, then it's yours now, no take backs. You acquire a piece of wood from an unsuspecting tree, and get to whittling while they all travel.

The problems with this: you have absolutely no idea what you could carve. And you absolutely did not think through your plan of distracting yourself with this, because turns out that whittling wood while walking is a whole ordeal, one that either requires you to walk very slow to not cut yourself with a somewhat dull knife (nothing that a little scissors strictly scissors craft can't solve) and then have Stardust stop to wait for you to catch up, which also prompts the rest of the party to stop and wait, extremely awkward, or get you to stop entirely on your tracks to keep working. 

Still, it's relaxing. You enjoy the scent and texture of wood in your hands, enjoy the motions, even if they have no direction and are as meaningless as how you feel at the moment. Helps distract you from the swirling chaos of your mind. 

It's… surprisingly nice.

If you don't think about how you shouldn't get used to any of this. 

Stardust continues to be a good enough distraction when you need to stop thinking, out of frustration or absolute boredom. He is, albeit slowly, getting better, strength and stamina returning. That's good. Very good. A reasonable body means a sound mind, rational decisions. He doesn't have a moment to be sad or depressed as the house in a different yet familiar shape disappears in the horizon behind them, as their party continues to joke and talk about so many things they have no script to answer for, continue to taste so many different flavors out of the Kid's cooking, as yet another day emerges without the underlying scent of sugar invading the lungs. It's nice. Neat. Pleasant. Good, even.

Funny how you can't bring yourself to feel any of the emotions you keep describing inside your mind.

Turns out that getting better and much more capable of making actual decisions does not equal to being wise. 

Stardust does not stop asking for your company when they sleep. Nor do they stop asking for touch. Their neediness seem to be getting worse.

You're not any better.

Time ticks slowly. You're barely aware of it. There's flashes of consciousness, when something noteworthy happens or you're needed (not often).

Something noteworthy: One time, the Kid sits beside you during what you assume is lunch time. The noise of them plopping down in the grass beside you damn near startles you out of your fizzy skin. 

They have their plate of food with them.

"Um." Is all you can say to this, confused out of your mind. You look at your Stardust for help, only to find that they, too, is just as confused as you are, sentiment shared with the party. They all watch the two of you silently. 

"What?" Kid asks, getting comfortable. 

"…Um." You parrot to them. It earns you an angry little scowl. Into your persona you slip into: "Aha, forgive me, is lunch time being relocated to my spot? I can move."

"No. Why would it?" Ouch. You… manage not to flinch at that. Everyone's watching. Wary. You get the urge to hug your own arms.

"Aha, sorry, I don't… understand?"

"You're even worse than Frin." They huff. What! You're offended even if it's true! You make a little noise to reflect that, hand in your non-chest. It doesn't make them laugh. They just stare you down. Then: "Lunch time isn't just about the eating. It's about company. So." You… blink. They roll their eyes. Takes a moment to be say: "S-so! I'm keeping you company! So you don't feel left out! Cuz you look sad all the time and I don't want you to be sad."

You're certain that surprise over the declaration isn't exclusive to you. You blink very, very slowly.

"Oh."

Isn't… isn't that something? You've been such an eyesore that even the Kid can tell that there's something wrong with you. 

You once prided yourself into being good at hiding it.

Or… is it the Kid that's just too perceptive? This always happened with the other one too, didn't it? Distantly, you move your fingers, feeling rather than hearing the crinkling of paper between your fingers. 

They don't need to concern themself with you. Who cares if Loop is sad? You get sad all the time. For a variety of reasons and non reasons, even! It's a normal occurrence at this point! And they're just a kid who happens to be very perceptive for their age (don't)! So! There's really no need to worry over you, at all!

There's a scratchy feeling behind your non-throat. It tightens.

You taste ash.

"…If you don't want me here, just say it." 

…

You tell yourself it's because of the sadness in their face that, instead of taking the opportunity to shoo them away for the collective peace of mind of everyone, you just hum and don't say anything. You tell yourself it's because your Stardust would be sad. You tell yourself that the least you could do is allow them this bout of wasted empathy until they eventually get tired of you, after all, they're just as much going out of their way to accommodate a stranger in their midst. You shouldn't sully the already fragile trust the party's placing onto you. Can't make the great snack leader sad, after all. Not them. Never.

"That's sweet of you." You say.

It's just excuses, at the end of the day.

"N-no! You're just stupid and keeps moping about! I'm just tired of seeing you look depressed!" 

Truth is: you're disgusting, aren't you? You know why you don't dismiss them. You know.

"Bonnie!" Someone exclaims. It goes ignored.

"Sorry." It's all you mutter back. 

And yet you still do it.

Kids perplexed for a few seconds. A grumble, then…

"No, don't… you're supposed to say thank you!!! Like a normal person!!!" But you're not. You're despicable. Selfish. Horrible thing that, at the end of the day—

"…Thank you."

"Hmf. That's better."

They smile, a strained and unsure little action. You… do your best to smile back, as much as you're able. The Kid deems your reaction satisfactory, and starts eating. 

As for the party… They slowly, slowly follow. Guess they realized you're not going to harm their Kid.

You watch the sky as they do.

Time ticks slowly. A day or two or a week could've passed and you wouldn't notice, dragging much the same way as always. Why worry? It was all the same anyway. You're barely aware of it. There's flashes of consciousness, when something noteworthy happens or you're needed (were you ever?).

Something noteworthy: you're getting nagged on, someone snapping their fingers in front of your face (?) to get your attention.

Stardust.

It feels like you're emerging from the depths when the world comes back into view, and you almost, almost come up heaving. Shades upon shades upon shades, a myriad of them that slowly regains its meaning, reveal the world to you.

Right. 

"What." 

"Back?" Worry and confusion, nice little concoction he got.

"Mhm. What do you need?" It's then that you realize that his other hand is holding the cloak. Oh! "Hmm? Are you giving me yet another gift?"

"No." A scowl. "It's still mine." You raise an eyebrow at that. "Town soon. You should wear it until we find an inn."

Oh, right, they decided that, didn't they? You… think you remember.

"Um, I don't want to hurry you two, but…" Housemaiden. Hands clasped together, probably with far too much force than she should. "Rain."

You gaze up. Dark, puffy clouds litter the sky. You can't see the gentle rays of the sun anymore. Distantly, a low rumble comes.

Down again. Stardust holding the cloak. Party staring at you. Expectation lays heavier than the darkness that looms above.

You don't want to take it. 

"Loop?"

"Come ON, hurry up! We need to go go go!!" Kid.

You really don't want to.

…

…Right?

Doesn't matter. Stick to your role. You can do this. Since when did you need to want to do things?

You… pick up the cloak and wrap it around your shoulders.

You don't think about it.

The noise of the clasps come next; click, click, done so many times before, second nature even to trembly fingers.

You don't think about it.

…

…

You feel… warm.

It's… Comfortable. 

It's everything you remember. 

Painfully familiar.

When's the last time you wore this?

It feels… just… just like your cloak. Your cloak? Your own? Is this…

Do you even remember?

Don't think about it!

It's nice, to have something to wear again. Now that you feel warmth, the cold that's been trickling your skin all this time makes itself known in the forefront of your mind: your form might not feel the deadly effects from lack of temperature regulation, but that doesn't mean you did not experience the sensation itself, however dulled it might be. You just weren't aware of it, before. Now you are. Now you know. Now you desire. Now you never want to give it back. You'd dance and cry and scream at the sky just for a chance to keep wearing this, keep feeling, wrapped in something so warm and familiar made by someone (who?) that loved you.

It's been so long. The cloak is comfortable and warm and hugs your form perfectly, drapes around you, you could nap wearing it, did just that many many times, would do it again right this moment if not for the rumbling sky above you. 

It's just like yours. 

…If you ignored all of the twinkly stars in your body and the ever constant glowing of your head, you could even… pretend this is some other timeline with no loops, no wishes giving you a clone, no situations you've been trapped in because of said clone, because you feel like yourself for once not some stupid toy of the universe that—

…Right. You don't have time for another breakdown. You've had so many of those lately, don't wanna add another to the pile, anyways. Aren't you a corpse? Aren't you supposed to feel nothing? What does it matter how this cloak feels? What does anything matter? Do what you're told. They're waiting for you.

Breathe, Loop. In and out. Just like you've always done.

…In.

And out.

In...

And out.

"You look comfy." Stardust comments, full of… something. It's weird to see him cloakless. So scrawny. You notice the party, too, looking at you with awestruck gazes.

You don't like this attention.

"I sure am!!!" Through this ordeal you manage. "It is a very comfy cloak." always was, wasn't it? "In fact, I might never give it back." 

"Wait, no!!" Now THAT wipes off whatever's going on in that pretty fluffy head of your Stardust. You giggle. "You can't do that!" 

"Why not? Sharing is caring~"

"Because it's mine?! I'm lending it to you, not giving."

Not yours. Was, once. Could be again, if only you weren't such a coward. It's not yours, you know it's not. Despite it all, this isn't your world, then it's not your cloak just as this isn't your family party.

"Nope, mine now!" Could still be, no? You can be excused to be a little despicable, no? You need to have something. Just one thing.

"No! You better give it back after we get to the city, or else…"

"Or else what?! You'd let me freeze in this weather? That's so cruel… Ohhhh… How devious." To the actors; "Are you seeing this? Stardust is so mean to me… Why is he so mean to me…"

"First of all, your star glows through the cloak."

Oh. If you look down, you can see the vague outline of the star in your chest beneath it. "Doesn't matter! I'm still cold!" You grab the tips of the cloak and bring it closer to you. Warm!!!

"Second of all, I'm not even sure this will work. The collar makes your head way more noticeable than before." 

"Who cares!!" You're not wearing out of worry for how strangers will see you, the party's proof of that. "It's still comfy and I'm claiming it."

"Thirdly!!" Ignored. "Didn't you reiterate that the cold doesn't bother you? Multiple times?" 

There's a tiny possibility you might have done that, yes.

"I was wrong, obviously."

"And!!!" Exasperated. "I don't have a problem sharing, as long as it remains mine."

Hah! "Possessive much? My, Stardust—"

"…As much as this is very entertaining to watch…" Wuh-woh!!! The Researcher!! You totally didn't forget the party's there and watching, Nuh uh!!! Neither did your Stardust!! "We do need to get a move on."

"S-sorry?" Stardust says. You… duck your head down. Oh!!! You've forgotten how comfy it is to do that actually!

"Don't worry, you can keep arguing on the way." Fighter says, with that amused smile of his. Ugh.

"Yes, I wanna see who wins!!" The Housemaiden's giggling. You think you might die forever. This is how you go. Out of embarrassment. At least you'll be dead.

"I vote Loop." Kid, very enthusiastic.

"What!!! Betrayal!!" Followed by your "HA! Take THAT!"

Researcher rolls her eyes.

"Can we PLEASE get going?"

"Yes of course M'dame Researcher!" You manage to say between your rollercoaster of emotions, embarrassment through giddy elation through embarrassment again. Stars.

"Yes Odile…" Stardust also tries to retreat into the cloak but it fails because it's yours now!! Hahaha! You're winning!

The group resumes walking, slightly faster than usual. You're not given reprieve so fast, because the group huddles around you. With the exception of Researcher. Why?!

Fighter's looking at you.

"Huh, look at that! The cloak fits you perfectly. You look just like Sif!" WUH-WOH!!!!!!! 

"Ah… It does, doesn't it?" You answer before Stardust can fumble this. You make your face smile. Be normal, Loop! Be normal!

"No they don't," says the Kid, good!!! "They're shinier."

"Haha, yeah, they are!"

You think that's that, but…

"You look cute on their cloak!" Housemaiden says.

"Very." Researcher?!?!?!

…Can you start running? Stars.

"Is that your way of blushing? Glowing brighter?" Fighter. No. No! 

"Like a lamp!" Housemaiden.

"Or a torch!" Kid.

"No it isn't" you try, but…

"Yes it is," Stardust. Betrayal!!! That’s it, you’re going to punch him again (and this time you’re not gonna stop until they bleed and lay dead at your feet).

"Shut your blinding mouth. It’s not!"

"I can confirm that it is." Researcher again?! Double betrayal!?

"Awwww! That's adorable!" Someone says, you don't know who anymore, doesn't matter! The town! You gotta get there!!

"They even hide in the cloak, too…" It's comfortable! It hugs your neck nicely! It feels like yours did before and you loved yours (but you lost it)! Either way, this is horribly mortifying. You hate it. Can they stop?

Without anywhere to hide, you resort to facepalming… Facepalm? Starpalm? Lightpalm??? Facepalm might work better, whatever, either way there's something deeply wrong with you because for a moment you feel like there's something there beyond light that your hands can touch and stars isn't that awesome!!! Either way, you're hiding forever! If you can't see them then their comments don't exist!

An even louder rumble comes, startling the party, maybe the universe decided to give you a shred of mercy after all (in something inconsequential such as this situation instead of what truly matters, typical). You take the opportunity to shove all of these feelings down, buried along with the ghosts of your family, and keep quiet. 

They forget about you easily.

And that… That…

…

…

Something twinges inside you.

...What were you thinking? That you could escape overwhelm simply because you feel a bit more like a person with the weight of the cloak on your shoulders? That's a little much, isn't it? There you go again. Same song and dance. Thinking you're being seen when inside of you a storm of uncertainty brews— to thine own self you cannot be true, so you weave a tale to tell an audience that this conversation just now was meaningful and held something special when in reality you can't even tell yourself if you wanted it to.

And here's the thing yet again! All you can ever think about is yourself, isn't it? Not what they feel, having to maneuver around your fragile little self, all the inconveniences that you bring just for existing, when all they oughta do is enjoy time with Stardust. What they feel never mattered so much to you, does it now? You crave their attention and you crave to be someone that consumes ones thoughts with care and love, and that's selfish, disgusting, horrible, despicable, you know that, you do, had many a breakdown over it, yet you keep getting disappointed over moments like this, again and again.

because you're pathetic,

because you're still here,

because this weight on your shoulders for once isn't self-inflicted,

because…

for a second,

you thought…

you thought…

…

Poor you. So pitiful. Won't someone take pity on the creature and offer them some kindness? Won't someone love you? Can't they see that's all you want? To be loved, and not be required to love back.

Within all of that self centered hogwash that you are, you think to yourself: you're horrible at everything, aren't you? Interacting, specially. Can't do that well when you're other, unusual, unfamiliar. Can't do that because you don't know who you are outside of someone else's perspective, all the pieces of you lost along with a country you once so desperately wanted to remember. You just morph what you are at the whims of others, hoping that whatever fragile new mask of your new role is good enough to be worthy of love.

While you do that, might as well hammer this into your mind:

This isn't yours. 

You have nothing. 

This isn't your party.

You deserve nothing.

This isn't your happy ending. 

You're hollow.

This isn't your journey.

You're here because another version of yourself gets to have what they wish for, and what they wished for was for you to remain, and so you will, held by strings if that's what it takes.

You're not supposed to want.

So you don't.

Back again to regard one simple thing:

Nobody cares about your striking resemblance to a sadness. 

Sure, there's stares and odd eyes at your direction, some of them lingering. But no one screams. No one asks. No one panics. You're not chased away with torches and pitchforks.

You're just another stranger.

That's good, isn't it?

Chapter Text

It's very disconcerting when you're back, blinking away to find yourself in a place you don't recognize. It's the stupidest thing that drags you out of your stupor, too: the sound of a key being turned to open a door.

You ignore the feelings this stupid noise brings you.

Maybe you've made a noise or something, because suddenly Stardust is looking back at you as he opens the door.

"Heya Loop," he greets, a smile so bright it might blind you. Senses return: the rain outside started to pour. Drip, drip, drip, occasionally interrupted by the crack of thunder.

Ignore that also.

There doesn't seem to be anyone else around you both, so you ask:

"Where… are we?"

"Inn-side an Inn." You kick him. Your Stardust giggles. "This is our room for the night. Luckily they had plenty, so we got to choose. We're sharing."

Huh.

"Oh? I thought you'd prefer to share with your Fighter." Actually, you think you might remember him asking Stardust about it or something. Or not. You think you wouldn't really have cared to listen.

Your comment sullies whatever good mood your Stardust had just now. They enter the room in lieu of answering you. Naturally, you follow (what else can you do?).

"You should go take a bath. They have bathtubs here."

Bath?!

"Bath?!" You also don't think about when's the last time you saw one. Doesn't matter! Bathtubs are for fancy people anyway!! And you're a traveler! Only a single coin to your name!!!

"Bath!" They smile. "Warm bath!"

Huh.

"Think I'll pass. I'm pretty comfortable."

Stardust raises an eyebrow.

"That's because you're in my cloak." He makes sure to emphasize the word. "That you'll give it back before you stink it further."

"What!!! I don't stink!! You do!" You're pretty sure you don't anyways, star privileges and all. Cool and neat and very nice. "Plus, I'm you, so it's also mine."

"That's—" pause. You turn to smile. "Okay, that's fair. We can share cloak rights."

"Yay!"

He drops your luggage somewhere. You hug your arms inside the cloak, relishing on the fluffy feeling of it. There's a cold wind blowing from one of the semi-open windows, sharp and biting. You like being protected from the storm.

"You should still take a bath anyway. We've been traveling for a while. Your feet must hurt."

You shrug. If they do, you don't have the capacity to feel the discomfort, nor do you desire to.

Although… It… could be nice. Couldn't it? Or is this yet another something you need to deny yourself the luxury, lest you shatter your insides just a tiny bit more?

"Ah, why not. I think I will."

Stardust hums.

"Okay. Do you need help?"

…Huh.

You… suddenly realize something.

What's… What's gotten into your Stardust? The inquisitive gazes, hands behind their back, staring at you as if they're searching for something. Are they… fussing?

"Oh my! Not even going to ask me to dinner first? How forward!"

You delight in the shade that coats your Stardust face, that you certainly do not share, because that'd be weird. You're not that weird. Also apparently you glow instead.

"N-no?! That's not what I mean! Ew?!! What in the skies, Loop???"

It is very funny, so you do giggle at them.

"Unfortunately for you, Stardust, I'm not that easy! I'll need that dinner first. Then maybe you can try again!"

"I— I. UGH." They grumble, looking away. So easy to tease! "I swear, I'm going to throw you out of this window."

"Do it, coward." They could. Easily. You're very aware of it.

They groan louder. You snort.

"Do you need help or not?"

Okay, serious mode.

"…Maybe?" You don't remember how to make bathtubs warm or how they work and that's either some dormant muscle memory or something you might genuinely need help with, which, ugh, embarrassing. Not like you know where it is. You've only just gotten back, after all.

"So yes."

"No, maybe. It's different!"

"Uh-huh."

Stardust ignores you and heads over to another door. You're far too tired to argue too much over this, plus the whole fussing over you business is getting increasingly uncomfortable.

"Found the bathroom. Hold on."

You can't do anything else but wait. Standing there, awkwardly, refusing to take in your surroundings. Unfamiliar place. Don't wanna get overwhelmed again. One thing at a time.

Drip, drip, drip, goes the rain. Pitter and patter.

A flash of light. Rumble. Swirling, angry wails of the storm.

Long ago, you might have found this relaxing.

The roar of the bathtub drowns out the noise of the storm, a little bit. It startles you.

"It'll take a few minutes, but this should be good. I'll grab the towels."

You hum, just to acknowledge them. Doesn't feel real.

How will your body react to warm water? You… kind of fizzle. Hm…

You hug yourself a little more inside Stardust's cloak. It rustles. Warm.

He's back briefly. You watch him, and focus on the sound of his heels clicking away at the wooden floor. Click, clack.

"Okay. We just wait, now." Another hum. You… can't think of anything to say. "…Loop?"

"Hmm?"

Stardust's giving you that look again. That one expression. Feels somehow even more poignant than usual, paired with the strangeness of the lack of cloak. You're still not gonna give it back.

"Are you… okay?"

Ah. Fussing again.

"What a silly question, Stardust. I am. Why wouldn't I be?" It sounds strained even to you, which, wow, ahaha, you must be really bad for that to happen, huh. The reason for feeling like this you can't begin to guess.

Silence lays heavy.

You like the noise of the water filling the bathtub. Restful.

You're suddenly so tired.

"I don't know, you just…"

"Don't worry about me, Stardust. I'm fine." Or something close to that. "What about you?"

Pretty sure they know what you're doing, but they give you some grace.

"I'm okay."

"Really now?"

Grumble. "…A bit cold. Tired. Want to sleep soon."

"Don't you wanna go bathe first? Then you can." They shake their head. "Suit yourself, then."

You can feel that there's something else Stardust wants to say, but you're too tired to fish that out. You'll either do that later or they'll tell you.

Stardust gets up to check the bathtub for you. This time, you follow, fully intending to put your hand on the water to test the temperature, but.

There's a mirror.

Huh.

That's what you look like, then?

It's. Huh.

Not like you're not aware. You've seen the lack of light in your body, saw the stars twinkling throughout, noticed the unnatural glow you seemed to emanate. Stardust made a crude drawing to show you, before, with a stick and subpar artistic abilities, you remember that. At the time you thought it was sweet, if not disturbing to contemplate the horror you've become. So. Yeah, you're somewhat familiar with the fact that you look like anything except a human, just… not the full extent of it. Pretty sure you could've used one of the loops to find a creek and gaze at yourself through water or something, if you really wanted to know. That's the thing, isn't it? You didn't want to.

Here you are. Star head. No mouth. Lightless body. Stars dotting your limbs.

It was strange to see then. It's strange to see now. Your head is just light, spikes that go every other way in seemingly no pattern. Ever moving dots on your body. The outline of the glowing star on your chest, beneath a cloak that feels but isn't yours.

Two eyes. Big eyelashes. Again, no mouth.

Close to human, but not quite.

You unclasp the cloak. It's not even a decision, you just see yourself unmaking it and acknowledge it with surprise. Your Stardust comes to stand beside you with their inquisitive silence, before they turn to the mirror.

He offers a far more striking comparison like this. You can pick away at the differences, if you wanted, starting with the obvious: eyepatch, while you have two eyes, only one working.

His body, you recognize. Came to be intrinsically familiar with it, these past couple loops and how much you make it a habit to stare at him like a freak.

It'd be bizarre to stare at you both if you recognized the body you inhabit.

If it can even be called a body anymore.

Inhuman.

You certainly haven't felt anything like a human in a good, good while. So. Fitting, isn't it?

Now that you are cloakless… You can see the rest of your body. Shades that blend into lightless. A strange texture all over that you can't quite identify, made to resemble flesh yet failing to pass as such. A four pointed star glowing on your chest, buzzing to try and imitate a heart you no longer have. Unwanted thought: looks like a scar.

You…

Don't think you have the capacity to feel much about this.

You look away. Back to your Stardust. He is a way better mirror than you, even if the expression full of pity makes you want to claw at yourself and finish unstitching all that you are until you fall to the floor like the cloak did. His presence is a comfort, in a way. You still exist. In some capacity. You can still be saved.

Except it's not truly you, is it?

You've changed.

And that's fine.

Serendipity.

Stardust doesn't say anything. They grab the cloak from the floor. You walk over to the bathtub, and stare at it.

"…So? How's the water?"

You touch it. Pleasantly warm.

You now realize how the lack of cloak accentuates the sharp prickle of cold coming from outside, should make you shiver, and yet you cannot feel it— your brain (?) registers it for nary a second.

"It's good." You say and don't recognize your own voice. Hollow. Empty. If you stuck a hand inside yourself, what would you find? Is your blood boiling heat?

"…Do you want a rubber ducky too?" You recognize that. A stupid joke. Uttered in a hush of sadness.

"No." You used to like watching the sky, before. Consider all of the stars, try to find constellations you no longer remember, trying to attribute meaning to them, in hopes of finding a piece of yourself. "I," There's nothing to find, not anymore. That knowledge is gone. You know that, now. "Want you to get out."

You used to love stars.

"Okay…" His voice carries a hint of something that you're content to let it remain buried. "Don't fall asleep on the bathtub."

"I won't,"

You enter the water before Stardust can close the door behind you both. There's a sizzling that melts along with the sounds of the storm outside. Drip, drip, drip, sizzle, sizzle, sizzle. Steam rises up and clogs at your throat (?).

The water. It's warm enough that you feel it.

It's not the cloak, but… it is just as cozy. Like a hug over your entire body. The water distorts the little stars in your body.

You touch one. Lightless finger or the water, whatever it is, makes it ripple. When you lift your finger, it's still there, trembling, glowing.

Warm and comfortable, your body wants to float. Baths are nice. You forgot how nice they were. You can stretch your legs. It gets rid of muscle pain. It's a luxury you don't often have. You never had much money. You didn't mind sleeping beneath the stars.

You rub at your arms to try and chase away this unnamed feeling sticking to you. It's giving you ideas you shouldn't act upon.

If you clawed at yourself and push away whatever it is that holds you together, what would crawl out?

Breathe, Loop. Breathe. Listen to the rain outside. Listen to the sounds you make, look at how the water sways with your hand, count the stars on the sky (you are the sky you are a piece of the universe that tore itself out you are the night you are familiar you—)

Breathe.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Just feel something, anything at all—

Warm. Water's warm.

You dream you were eating yourself alive.

Despite the explosions you hear in your dreams, it is not you that went over a supernova all over again. If you did, you wonder if you would just cease to exist. You don't have anything left to give.

When you wake up, it's because of your Stardust, hand on your shoulder, shaking you slightly.

"It's time to wake up, Loop. You can sleep on the bed."

Blink, blink away at him. He comes into view. Again with that look of worry that makes you want to do unspeakable things just to wipe that concern off of him. There's better places he could direct those to. Actual people, for starters!

"…Mghgmghmmmhhgmh…" Hi, Stardust, how can I help you on this wonderful new loop? Is what you actually wanted to say, woops! Too sleepy for that!

Oh hey. You're feeling a little more normal now. Mainly: feeling. Like a person should do. That's cool! Yay!

He giggles and you want to maybe fist your hands in their hair and shove it down the bathtub, now getting cold. A shame you don't do that. Oh what. You take it back. You're not that normal.

"Yes, hi to you too. Get out of the bathtub before you dissolve."

"I don't wanna…" It's so nice here. You didn't get to scrub yourself— probably a good thing, now that you think about it, hah! You'd probably try to scrub hard enough to see what happens first: bleeding or the corruption sliding off and out of you.

"Come on. I also want a bath, remember?"

"That's a you problem." You say just to be annoying, which is horrible in itself, yet the way your Stardust reacts makes it worth it.

You hear him sigh. You stretch like a cat, one limb at a time.

"Get out." There's a warning there. Scary!

You do only because it's not as comfortable to be in soon to be freezing water. He's holding up a towel for you, which you take, mumbling and being a general annoyance just because you can.

As you get out… You don't even look at the mirror again. Nope! Not repeating that disaster! You like feeling things, even if they're horrible most of the time, wayyy better than whatever happened before, thank you very much! Which, by the way, you should probably wonder what happened with yourself there, huh? But you won't~ Because you like being sane~

It's still raining outside, though now the storm has been reduced to a constant drizzle. Wind still cold. The cloak's nowhere to be found.

Hm…

You'll just steal Stardust's nightclothes, then. Maybe that will chase away the feelings of that particular occurrence in the bathroom. It'll be nice to have something between you and this horrible skin of yours.

It's easy enough to fish out a pair of pajamas. They're identical to the other ones you saw your Stardust use, because he has absolutely no fashion sense, or maybe because he bought another pair while forgetting he already had one— certainly something you might have done, long ago.

It's nice. Cozy. Light material. Makes you wanna do a little swirl to relish the feeling of clothes against you again. If only you could steal the cloak, too. You don't do any of that, because you're tired, and because the star in your chest also glows through the fabric here, a little stronger than it did through the cloak, and you would like to not think about that again. Horrible.

There's two beds. You sit on the nearest one, and wait for your Stardust to come back while you sway your legs back and forth.

You manage not to fall asleep again when he does come back. Steam escapes from the door in a nice little cloud. You're jealous!

You get up. Feeling like a menace until you can know which bed's yours to fall asleep in. You're so tired.

Stardust takes a second to register your antics.

"Those are mine."

Naturally.

"I'm you, so it's also mine." You shoot back.

He scoffs.

"Yes, but…"

You cutely bat your eyes (plural, heterochromia, wow!). Now you know for sure you've retained big eyelashes. Charming!

"…Why does that work." The way their face scrunches up is very entertaining.

"Because I'm amazing and you love meeee~~" You blow him a kiss. Reminiscent of a hangout where you were acting a cinch too out of your mind. Shoo, thought, shoo. No time for that.

He laughs anyway.

"Whatever, stop being annoying before I revoke your pajama privileges, too."

"I make no promises. Now! You look like a mess. Go to sleep."

"I will, I will." Roll of their eyes. "Which bed do you want?" Stardust asks. Something inside of you coils angrily when faced with the casualty of the question. You ignore it. You've been asked a question with expectation of answering.

Okay!!!

So there's two beds. Because, yes, of course, this is an inn, the party are the saviors of Vaugarde, asking and receiving anything less than luxury would never be an option for them anymore. You and Stardust are not a couple (ew ew ew what in the cosmos is this thought), so of course, when given the option, there'd be two beds. It's only natural.

So.

Why do you feel bothered by this?

That there's several somethings wrong with you you're very much aware, but… what? Is… is this a product of the ignored potential little crush of yours (no don't think about that that's so weird what is wrong with you, that's not what this is) or something, or are you this much touch starved and lonely that the thought of sleeping alone terrifies you? Because it shouldn't. You should be happy about this, actually. Your arm won't be sore anymore, not until you have to travel again. Things won't be as awkward. You can get up whenever you want. You'll have blankets to wrap yourself with, no Stardust stealing, which is good because it's cold today, and they are not warm enough like you think the Fighter might have been to leech off of his heat, so no loss there. And the best of all: no more confusing thought spirals about the complications that your Stardust neediness brings. You're getting so tired of these. How many times can you revolve around the same thing and still find meaning in it?

You should be happy about this. Why aren't you?

…Oh. Well! Ahaha. You think you know the answer. You've gotten used to Stardust asking to hold hands. Come to expect it, even. Like it, even. And look what happened. Exactly what you warned yourself that would.

Ugh.

…Whatever, you will be as much normal as you can about this. Which is: don't dwell on it. Stardust is smarter. They'd prefer to be with the Fighter anyway, if it weren't for thoughts and trauma and whatever else comes with this uncertain future of theirs.

So. Be normal. Don't make a big deal out of it.

"Mmm…" they look the same size. "That one." The closest to the door. Easier to leave.

"Okay."

Stardust proceeds to sit on your bed. Now, along with your collection of ugly feelings, there is confusion and outrage.

"Hey! That's my bed!" You complain, nevermind the internal conflict of just now. You can be petty. Pretty much earned that right.

"Yes?" Stardust looks at you like it's obvious. "It is?"

"Then go use yours instead of hogging mine?!"

Honestly! How selfish can Stardust be to steal one of the only things you can have, if only temporary? Can you have nothing at all?

Stardust frowns. Confusion in their features, a reflection of yours. Then, strangely enough, he freezes in his tracks, as his darkened cheeks look at you, also… disappointed?

"Oh," they murmur. "Do you not want to share…?"

…

Ohhhh.

…

Oh. Oh? OH?!

What.

HUH????

Okay okay that makes more sense! You're so stupid, ahaha. Oh my stars. Of course. Stardust wouldn't want to be alone now would he? You should've expected. Ahaha. Oh dear. Oh boy.

"…O-oh! So we're sharing! Ah, hehe, I see! You should've told me earlier! Teehee!" Stardust is looking up at you with slow, blinking eye, and quite suddenly you're feeling so, so much shame. And perhaps it is this shame that makes you blurt out something stupid: "Um. I do, actually. If. If. You want to???"

You shouldn't have said this, you know. You know, you know, you know, you shout at your brain, at yourself, you feel shattered. It's too late already. You've said it. You've said it and the relief you feel at the knowledge that Stardust still wants to share is insurmountable, aaah.

You squash those feelings down. Grind them into dust.

Anyway!

Your Stardust gives you a mischievous but (equally?) relieved smirk.

"Shush! Misunderstandings happen!"

"Mhm." They lean backwards, using their arms as support to regard you for a few seconds. Ew. Shoo. Cease. Few moments later, they go to grab your fuzzy blanket from their things, beloved fuzzy blankie. You could drown in it. "So. Sleepy time?"

…

Ah, stars. Sure.

"Sleepy time."

Your stardust smiles a very cute smile (stop), moving to lay down with fuzzy blanket and inn blanket, holding both of them out to make space for you.

This is… More awkward than usual. Maybe because you've regained feeling and so sensations are acutely felt now? Maybe because it's a bed? Because you thought you'd be alone? It's the same thing. Literally the same thing. You should stop making a big deal out of it and just… get on the bed already. You're tired after all. Sleep could fix you.

Slowly, slowly, you move to join them.

Ooooh, the bed's comfy. Way comfier than whatever the Favor Tree or Clocktower could ever offer. You sort of sink in it, pleasantly. Your back loves this bed.

A sigh of contentment escapes you. Stardust adjusts the blankets and smiles.

"Hand?"

Wordlessly, you intertwine your fingers. You do not think about how easy this has gotten for the two of you.

"You're freezing, Stardust."

"It's cold without the cloak." They whine. "You're cold too." You shrug. "I don't understand how you're surviving like that."

You shrug again.

"It doesn't seem to affect me that much."

"Hm. Really?"

"Apparently." Not like you know how it works. "It doesn't mean I don't feel cold, though. Just that it won't kill me. Probably." Maybe you can test this.

They make a face.

"Okay, let's get you some warm clothes later, then."

"Wha— I don't need it!"

"Yes you do."

"No???"

"Yes. Not accepting no for an answer."

"I literally just said it won't kill me." Probably. The Universe didn't let you disappear, so you doubt it'd let you die easily.

"Just because it won't kill you doesn't mean you need to suffer."

…Ah, blinding hells. You huff indignantly at that.

whatever other feelings try to arise with this proposition, you too grind it down with the balls of your feet

"Ugh. Fine. Whatever suits you."

Stardust smiles again, and squeezes your hand as if that's a reward for your compliance.

"Thank you. Now… Sleepy time?"

Stars. He's like a spoiled kid.

"Sleepy time. Goodnight, Stardust."

"Night, Loop."

…Luckily for you, it's pretty easy to fall asleep in a comfy bed beneath warming blankets. You haven't realized how utterly exhausted you are. Mind reasonable enough, it might be the first time you're able to fall asleep without thinking of too many things like what in the suns is wrong with you or anything of the sort. Mmm…

…

…

Unluckily for you, you wake up in the middle of night feeling the aforementioned cold. Awareness comes back to you rather slowly, as you paw away to pull the blankets back to you only to discover they're nowhere to be seen. Then you wonder if you're sleeping without them, maybe kicked them away in your sleep, and only then you realize the culprit of this madness is, of course, Stardust.

"Stop stealing my blankets," you grumble as you pull them back to you. You don't care to leave some for them. You want to wrap yourself in a cocoon.

Stardust immediately groans in protest.

"But I'm cooold," their sleepy voice answers.

"So am I! Sharing is caring!"

He answers with noises that you assume were meant to be words but aren't. He pulls the blankets back, almost knocking you off the bed.

So of course you need to get revenge.

It's not too long you both get into… a rather silly pull and push contest. If you weren't so tired, you'd laugh at the absurdity of this. Here, at the end or the start of everything, you are in a blanket war with yourself. Nice one, universe.

But you are tired, this is stupid, you're cold, and you want to go back to sleep. What you do: get tired very quickly of this charade.

"This isn't going anywhere, Stardust, can you please just… settle down so we can sleep."

"Mmhgghmnm…"

"Yes, yes, it's cold. We'll continue to be cold if you steal the blankets." You can't believe this. What a silly situation. "Unless you want me to freeze to death. Is that what you want, after all?"

"Noooo!" It's funny. He opens his eye, sleepy, groggy, blinking to adjust to your light. "Don't freeze. But gimme the blankets, too."

"I did, and you stole them."

"Because it's cold. And you stole them first."

"Excuse me?! I did NOT!"

"You did,"

You probably did it actually, but that's your honor on the line here!

"No I didn't. You know arguing isn't gonna warm us up all night to sleep, right?"

"…It might." You want to shake him out of the bed. You're going to pummel him. Send him to the stratosphere. Into the sun. "Ugh. Fine. How do we solve this?"

"Oh, I dunno, how about with you learning to share?" Selfish little thing. Horrible. That's not helpful, though, you're just being a hypocrite, so you search for an actual suggestion: "Grab the other blankets? Make a blanket fort?"

"I don't think that's gonna work." He does giggle at your suggestion. A blanket fort would be nice. More blankets would also be nice, maybe… "…but. Um?" He starts. You stop your brooding to listen. "I may have an idea…"

Against yourself, you hold your breath. You… don't really want to go to the other bed. Or have them leave you. It'd certainly solve things, but… but…

Luckily for you, the thoughts halt to a stop because…

A rather fascinating thing happens.

Stardust is flushing. Refusing to look you in the eye. Hands fiddling with the fuzzy material of your blanket. Oh?

"We could… um…" they stammer.

"Hmmm?"

"Um…" still they hesitate. What for?! Spit it out. "We could… could…"

"Yes…?" You're usually patient, but not when sleepy, so a nudge it is. The anticipation is torturing you. You're so curious, what could possibly make your Stardust blush this much? Oh my!~

"Could… cuddle?!"

"Ahhh, I see…" Oh my indeed! …Wait. "…Huh????"

You think you might've broken with the suggestion. What???

WHAT?? Cuddle? With… you? With your Stardust? You… you both? Cuddle? Cuddle? The thing where people… hug… to sleep (gross?!)… cuddling… What. Huh? Cuddle??? Is that even a word anymore, with the way you're stretching and pulling at it inside your hopelessly fuzzy brain?!

The room glows brighter, and you pretend that's not because of you.

"I mean!!! I figured if we hug then we would be too busy to hog blankets!!!"

HUH???? HUH what huh wha how eh??

"…You want to cuddle? To sleep??" You're. Struggling. To grasp the concept. It doesn't sound real.

"Because it's cold!!!" Stardust face is so dark he might not even need that with how warm it must be. "I figured it'd solve things!!! People do that!!!"

"People do that?"

"Yes?"

…

"…Did you do that with your Fighter?"

He squeals.

"No!! We never needed to? Cuz it wasn't cold?"

"Would you have, if it was cold?"

"Wha— n-no?! It'd be… weird."

"But this is not weird."

"No. I mean. Not in the same way? It's less weird.

"…Right." You still just sit there. So it's not a… familiar thing. Why, then?

"But that's only if… you want to." They start to duck their entire body to hide beneath the covers. You just. Stare. Wondering. "We don't have to."

But…

Wouldn't that be weird? Well, it is weird already, this whole situation is, which is why you don't think about it too much, as to not break your already frail mind. Would it be weird in… other levels? Would it be different than the hand holding? That's not too bad. Hand holding is fine. Actually, no, scratch that, you're deranged enough with nightly hand holding. What in the seven stars would happen if that escalated? Oh stars. Oh no.

There's. A little voice inside. Familiar, now, in its choir. When's the last time you've…

…

You shouldn't accept this. There's no way this could ever be good.

A discussion had time and time again, you know this.

…

It'd be weird. It's weird. You shouldn't. You shouldn't. This is not even accounting for… Anyway! You can live without this! There's more blankets! There's other solutions! Squash this desire as you did everything else. It should be easy now, shouldn't it?

but you want…

Don't do this, don't do this! No no no no no don't

you want…

… don't no no no no no

You want…

don't…

You…

Want…

…

You're weak.

"…I…" swallow around the thickness of your throat. "…Yeah. I. do… want to."

Weak and disgusting. Horrible, horrible thing. What is this? A twisted form of self-flagellation?

would it be so bad? you've always wanted to hug, to reach, to cuddle, but you were scared, you're scared, so scared, you were scared of holding hands too you were scared you wouldn't like it you were scared of the hug the Kid gave you you were scared of when the Housemaiden held your face you were scared when Stardust held you, and yet… you would be lying if you say you didn't enjoy all of those things, despite the discomfort. so… what would this… feel like?

what are you scared of? Is this… fear of disliking it, or…

…

You don't say anything to back out of the disaster you're watching unfold. Instead… Stardust perks up slightly. They're almost entirely hidden.

"…really?" Slowly, because you must be insane, you nod. "Okay! …Okay. Um."

There's still time to stop this. Tell them you changed your mind, tell them you're scared. It's the truth! He'd understand! Out of all people, you can expect him to understand!

Why are you doing this? What's wrong with you? Why are you so greedy? You knew this would happen, sooner or later. You should settle in the other bed instead.

…

Moments of nothing pass.

You feel Stardust… scoot closer. You hold your breath as his soft warmth enter your space, and against yourself, you… flinch.

Pause.

Ah— His face is so close. Trembly eyelashes. Stiff limbs. A few centimeters away from you. If you so much shifted, you'd brush against them.

Stars.

This is torture, you think. Utter torture. This is how you die. Holding off your breath. Waiting for them to close the distance, knowing that he won't.

…

…

…

You're supposed to be better than this. Aren't you? You… You… want, you want, you want you want, you

Extend your arm forward…

And…

pull your stardust closer by the waist.

He squeaks or nyas, you can't tell because. Because. You miiiight be freaking out a little bit. Aha. Just a teensy tiny bit. Ahaha.

Stardust is as still as stone. Pressed against you, his face smooshed on the crevice of your neck. His hands are touching your chest.

It's.

Too much all at once. He's so so close, you've never had anyone this close and he's warm solid real and there, soft and squishy and bony he makes you feel far too much the skin the thin fabric of far too familiar clothes the underlying ever present sweet smell of them it's unbearable but it's kind of your fault because you pressed him close and now you regret it you want him gone but

It's.

Not enough. He's close but not enough you're feeling them but not enough they're not holding you like you want them to his arms are trapped between your chest, they're so stiff, so cold, if they got even closer they could warm up you want them to hold you so close and so tightly that there is no distinction between where you start and they end you want to melt into each other you want to crawl inside them and live there you want them to hold you you want to be held you don't want them to ever leave he's not close enough it's not enough it's not enough

There comes a deep breath from them. You're aware of their heart, beating fast, roaring so loud, just as yours should be (would be, is it?). He's still paralyzed. Scared. He looks like he might (is) panicking.

You don't know what you feel.

the seconds drag away slowly and as fast as light. Years or eons could have passed until you feel your Stardust slowly relax against you, stiff members starting to tremble as, slowly, slowly, one of his arms begins to move, now it's your turn to go still. You feel the drag of him as their arm snakes around you, beneath your elbow, a little up on your waist, close to where your ribs should be, and for a moment you wonder if he would carve you out like this, with just his nails. Their leg kicks a little, hesitantly, between yours, and you open a space to let it lock between yours, ah, ah, aaah, that, that's too much, too much, too much, and somehow exactly what you wanted what you needed yet you still want more there's too much between you to feel and you... you...

His breathings ragged. Ghosting on your neck.

He fits so perfectly against you.

If you think too much about this you're certain you'll break. Fall apart. Shards upon shards upon shards of what you one day were.

He's still trembling. Shifting rapidly between tense and slack limbs. You're not faring much better yourself.

"…Stardust?" It feels silly to call out to them in such a hushed voice. You don't trust yourself for anything more. You're scared of ruining the moment. Feels so intimate. Like you're both stuck in a bubble so fragile that it'd shatter if you so much breathed the wrong way.

None (all) of this feels real.

He makes a shaky noise. You can feel it rumble on your chest. You can feel each movement he makes. Stars. Stars!!!

"…is this too much?" Your non existing tongue feels like lead, like you swallowed fire. You feel the way his fingers curl on your back, where they're holding you. Lightly scrapes on top of the fabric-- you still feel the pleasure it brings.

"M-mhm…" You feel his jaw move with each syllable.

"Do you want me to let go..?" You don't want to you don't want to you want to please don't

"No!" They pull you even closer and you think something really does break inside of you, cracks and falls somewhere, echoing. "I… I mean… no… Just. Give me a second."

Stardust squeezes you with the entirety of his body, and your breath gets caught up in the back of your throat (?). It stings. Burns.

There's nothing else you can do.

Stardust sighs, eventually. Trembling stops.

One thing about this is for certain: it is warming the two of you.

It's…

Ah. Should you use this word?

It feels… wonderful.

They nuzzle you, nose buried on your neck. It makes you shiver again. Nervousness or overwhelming, not sure.

"…You okay?" Muffled voice of Stardust.

"Mhm."

It's too much at once. You regret it. You don't regret it.

…

You don't want to let go.

…comfy…

How could you ever have lived your entire life without this?

You're sick, aren't you?

This is you. It's Stardust. It's you, and normal people don't do that, normal people are disgusted by the idea, but for some reason you aren't, no no you're feeling quite the opposite now which is utterly horrifying, you're horrified at yourself, there is absolutely no way this could ever be normal or fine or okay to do and feel. One does not think this way about themselves. One would not look at their clone and wish to hold them. One would not feel a flutter in their heart by their gentle words, gentle touches. One is not that desperate.

You shouldn't be feeling this. You shouldn't be relishing this moment. Stop, stop, stop it!

…

Ahaha… aahhh…

what are you doing what in the seven stars are you doing this is isn't helpful this is mortifying why can't you stop wanting stop stop stop

No amount of self degradation can chase away the silly little feelings inside of you. The fuzziness of his touch, all over you, all around. Too much. He covers all of you. You hate it. You don't want them to let go.

You want. You want. You want. And now that you have it, you won't let go. You don't want to. How long ago? Did you ever? Would you ever? You`d have died without knowing this. It'd have been fine. Why did you do this? Why did you agree?

He's so warm now. You're so warm now. It's making you all sleepy again. Mmm…

You want so, so many things. None should be voiced.

You bring your other hand to his hair. It's soft. They groan low in their throat, trying to bury themselves ever closer. You apply pressure on the back of their head. Encouraging. You feel the hum he gives, each movement of Stardust body as his legs lock with yours even more. Their breath. Their heartbeat, roaring loudly, steady rhythm, matching yours (?). Each rise and fall of their chest. The little sigh of contentment.

…

This is… nice.

It's wonderful. It feels wonderful.

…Couldn't you just…

Hazy. Fuzzy. Foggy. There's only them. Holding you so close. Fingers on your back. You want him to tear through your skin, see if you bleed.

You want to melt into them.

It's so warm. Can't keep your eyes open. Ah…

…

You dream of this moment, trapped in eternity.

And when you wake up again, you don't feel like yourself.

You feel like liquid, fiery molten lava, you feel like someone else, like you were a person but not the one you thought yourself to be, like who you were was something other, unfamiliar, that all that you were was what Siffrin made you to be, fragile, little, ash, dust, and like ash and dust you would fade away in time, feeling something that you've never deserved would never deserve and yet you were feeling it, all so it could heighten your inevitable fall.

He fits into you so wonderfully, like all of the things that created a void inside of you like everything the universe took away from you, all of the pieces you've thought lost forever and ever, all of the things you would never again be.

what you are, what you ever hoped to be, is nothing (but a creature unsure of what it's supposed to be) nothing (but what the universe willed you to be), nothing (but loop, helpful loop, here to be stripped of identity and play the role of a helpful sponsor),

nothing

but the endless choir of want, a traveling melody, the universe endless impossible space closing around you, choking, choking, you can't breathe you can't breathe you're going to die die die die die die die die die

When did this happen?

Sometimes, you dream of love.

You wake up.

Gently rocked awake by the waves of your dreams, awareness traveling so slowly to tell you of your limbs and the sweet warmth that encompasses you.

Then comes your breathing, slow, serene.

Then comes a hum that resonates from within.

Then softness, and a sigh, a breathing that isn't yours.

That's right. You're being held. Like you wanted.

And isn't it nice? Doesn't it feel right?

When you open your eyes, you see your Stardust chest, somehow you've ended up being the one with their face buried into them.

Something inside of you flutters,

and it's scared,

and it's terrified to reveal itself.

That's right. You're here. You're real.

Here. Real.

You're cuddling your Stardust. Hugging him close, just like he is doing to you, though one arm is slowly traveling up and down, caressing you with their nails. You hear his heartbeat.

It's nice.

Ah…

You don't want to let go.

Suddenly, the hand stills. The entirety of him stills. Heart speeds up. Noticed you, then?

"…Loop?"

You don't want to answer.

But… you've gone still as well. Nervous energy you can't quite get rid of.

Ah…

"Mhm…" you groan. Unfortunately, the pleasant haze is quickly leaving you. Soon enough, you'll have to face yet another mistake of yours. "Yeah...?"

"Um."

You want to nuzzle into them again. But Stardust moves away, presumably embarrassed as realization hits them. Siiiigh.

"Um. Sorry. I'm. Uh."

You don't have the patience for this.

"Stardust, please, it's not that big of a deal, it's just cuddling," though the moment is utterly ruined now. You move up to look at them, and face a little confusion about that expression he's wearing. Perplexed. Awe. Fascinated. "What? Did you hate it this much?" Or do you regret it now that you can think?

"No, it's not that, it's…" the fascination doesn't seem to leave.

Something's wrong.

"Is everything okay, Stardust?"

He only points to your general direction. Jittery. An expression you've seen before.

Then…

You see it.

Something falling on your shoulder. You bring a lightless starry hand to touch it.

It's hair.

You scream.

Chapter Text

Your Stardust screams with you.

(And isn't it nice? Isn't it wonderful?)

"WHAT THE CRAB. WHAT." That's your voice! Ahaha. Ahaha. Oh wait, the laughs aren't only on your head. Your head. Your head?

You want to scream all over again. Maybe you do, what in the cosmos, maybe you are screaming right now and can`t hear it over the panic roaring inside your mind.

It's official: You're freaking out.

"Loop, wait, hold on,"

You can't! You can't! Because suddenly there is hair (?!) pooling on your shoulder and tickling your face (?!!) a face that you shouldn't have and it's getting on your way, and when you touch it it feels like something and then you touch everywhere else drag nails (!) down at it and it hurts and you feel a lot of things like a nose a mouth and cheeks and lips and teeth and what in the actual stars is happening, last you checked you had absolutely none of this!!

You turn to him.

"What did you do?" Comes out sharp. Your face (!) hurts. You can't breathe. You can't breathe. You can feel the lingering pain of the scratches you left. You want to do it again. What is happening, what is HAPPENING?!

"I didn't do anything, I swear! P-please stop scratching yourself," he tries to reach out but you flinch so violently that they stop mid way, expression scrunched up in concern. You can't do what they ask. You can't. What's going on, what's going ON.

"Clearly you must have done something because from what it looks like I have a FACE. I HAVE A NOSE. A MOUTH??" Oh you shouldn't have said that. It makes it worse because now that it's been uttered, then it's real, and if it's real...

You're freaking out so badly. Ahaha. Stars. You don't even wanna consider the possibility. Because, well, you just woke up after all! Do you really need a freak out so early in the morning? After what you did yesterday? No, no you don't!

Stardust must've done something. Just like they did to keep you here. He— He wouldn't do this, though. Would he? Would he?? You—

"Siffrin?! Loop? Is everything okay?"

Oh no. Oh no no no no no no this is awful. It's the party. You don't even know who's talking, but it's them. They're outside. You must have woken them because you're so stupid and can't think of anyone else but yourself, stupid, stupid, selfish, horrible—

"Y-yeah!" Stardust all but shouts back. You're still touching what shouldn't feel like a face. It doesn't feel real. A mirror. A mirror. You need a mirror.

"Is it really? We heard a scream," it's a different voice now oh no did you literally wake up everyone? Ahahaha. Oh no. What did you do. You're so stupid. You could've freaked out in silence instead, like you often do. They don't need to know. Nobody ever needs to know.

Wait.

No.

They—

They can't know.

They can't they can't they can't they can't know they can't

they'll hate you

they'll realize how you deliberately kept this lie going for so long and all you've been doing they'll realize how horrible you've been all this time, this entire time up until now and how you keep being awful (does it matter? they're not yours) (you don't care what they'll think of you, do you?) (yes you do) (no you don't) (you don't want to) (you wanted to be seen so badly what's the problem then?) (not like this not like this—)

Why now?

"Can we come in?"

Of all times…

(how you're being held so tenderly, kept close like you're a precious little thing worthy of something something far different something distant)

"NO!!" That's you, that's you. Though it's Stardust hands that hold your arms, uniyielding force keeping you from scratching, you think you might be bleeding, so you do bleed after all! (what shade?) You see strands of hair still, and something awful something terrible twists in your gut (???).

"Siffrin, you don't sound okay."

because there's nothing nothing NOTHING okay with this! Why now? Were you really so terrible you deserve this sort of torture, as well? (yes you are) (yes you do)

"If you don't tell us what's going on we're coming in,"

No no no no no no they can't they can't they can't see you like this.

You…

You need to run.

You try to fight against Stardust. He's stronger. Awful moment to recognize how they've always been stronger than you— they're just gentle enough not to truly hurt you, though perhaps he should!! Maybe he really should!! Break your arms until you scream with the feeling of something that isn't unending dread!

"P-please don't! I'm fine, we're fine, um!" Stardust tries, eye rapidly darting between you and the door. "Loop had a nightmare!" They blurt out. That works, ahaha, sure, whatever, let's go with that! This is a nightmare! There's no other explanation! It's either that or the universe hates you further, has a personal vendetta against you! Ahahah.

"A nightmare…?"

"Yes! And they, uh, don't want to be seen right now. But it's okay!! We're fine!!" It's quite funny that he's saying this while you grunt between tears are those tears and violent pulls of your arms, they're still starry, still lightless, that's a comfort at least, (is it? since when have you thought of your form to be comforting?) what about your face???

You need a mirror.

"Do you two need any help?" No. No!

"No, no, I'm dealing with it. They'll be fine!" He's violent with the pull. You can't breathe. Maybe if you could then you could overpower him, there's no way you're this weak, is there, is there? You almost killed them. Didn't that count for something? No, because you know they're gentle with you and anything you managed to do against them was because they let you.

You still have your legs, so you kick him. Your Stardust lets out a hiss of pain. Makes them sway and tremble, not relent.

"Loop!" they murmur to you. "Stop it."

You kick him again.

"If you say so, but we'll be around if you need us…" The voice makes you pause for a second. You both freeze in your tracks.

"Please call us if anything!!"

"We'll be at the cafeteria. They have FREE breakfast!"

"Yes, come join us later!"

"We will!" Stardust yells back. Then there's the subtle noise of multiple pairs of feet walking away. You both wait a moment.

"…Okay, Loop, let's—" You kick them again.

This time the yelp of pain they let out is paired with a reflexive hand to the injured leg. You immediately seize the opportunity to free yourself, pulling your other hand with all your might. Stardust can't do anything as you scramble up and out of the bed, bolting for the bathroom.

If he follows you, you don't care to listen.

There it is. Mirror.

Your eyes are a little blurry, not enough to impede you from gazing at the creature that stares back at you.

A bloody face stares back, its eyes blown wide, akin to a terrified animal.

It's a face you should recognize.

(you wish to go far far away so far you'll become lost you'll change into something unrecognizable that maybe they'll love you wish to be someone that won't be dictated by their mistakes)

It's the face of your Stardust. Their hair, fluffy and messy from neglect. Their mouth. Their eyes. Bloody face, dripping viscous darkless liquid down their cheeks. Four pointed star on their chest.

You hold up a hand to touch the mirror. Its stars glow softly as they come in contact with cold glass.

It's you.

This is you after all.

There's Stardust, catching up to you moments later. Their figure is beside you. A repeat of yesterday, offering a far more stark comparison for you to pick apart.

It's you.

Only the star head is gone.

Everything else is the same.

A question rattles through your brain. Over and over and over. No matter how many times it sounds, it does not come with an answer.

You look away. To Stardust. Panting slightly next to you. He looks… just as awed as you are. You look the same now, yet intrinsically different.

(There are pieces of yourself strewn all over. Instead of finding yourself, you keep leaving more and more pieces.)

You can never have anything, can you?

"…What happened?" It's him that asks, which you register as strange, yet do not linger in it, this question has no point in being asked just as much as everything else in your life.

"You tell me!" Comes out your strained, laughing voice, accompanied by a tiltillating chorus of laughs. You sound deranged.

You're tired.

"I don't know. I— I noticed as you woke up." He looks so sad. As if they're about to cry at the sight of you, and doesn't that do things to your heart when it blinding shouldn't, yet here you are, held on by the feeble strings of what's left of your desire just because they've been met a couple of times. Pathetic.

Well. New problem for you to deal with. The reflection you can see at the corner of your limited vision. The hair that tickles your newly oversensitive skin.

(his fingers cradle your head hair light between their fingers, it's soft,)

Okay. Okay. You can do this. You can do this! Just as you performed your role in Stardust loops. Just as you're doing this whole situation right now.

Okay!

Question number one!

"Did you do this?" 

"No! I didn't! I-I wouldn't," though their face suggests a hint of doubt.

Haaa…

Okay.

Breathe in, Loop. You can do this.

"Your face," his mumbling interrupts your thoughts. "Can— Can I…?"

You just sort of… shrug. Whatever words you wanted to say comes out as a strained little giggle. He understands your answer as it is: don't care, do what you want. Though they shouldn't. Or should have. You don't care.

There's a sharp feeling as he touches you, shivering for two seconds. Tears are blinked away, and you are given respite from the prickles on your face.

Doesn't help anything else.

Stardust touch on your arm lingers. You see how he fights off the sway of their body.

"There you go." They try to hide it anyway with a tiny smile. Another shrug.

Okay. Question number two!

"Is this… permanent?" You… don't know what you'd do if yes. You don't know what you'd do. You don't know what you're doing.

Stardust hesitates.

"I don't know."

Ha. Haaa…

Okay.

Question number three!

"…W-what…" there's something stuck on your throat (!), "What are we gonna do, now? I—" it might not be the words, though your mind helpfully supplies the rest: I don't want them to see me like this. I really don't. I don't know how they're gonna react and—

You hug your own arms.

In and out.

"Would…" no, no "Would it…" you know what's gonna say "Would it be so bad to just tell them?"

A laugh bubbles out of you.

"Really, Stardust? Really?" Deranged, deranged, you sound insane, you're starting to feel insane. He was close, before, but now your Stardust trembles and takes a step away, as he should! "Clearly I need to spell it out for you, then! Yes! Yes it would! I don't want to!"

(so soft yet their touch might as well be molten fire atop you, heat passing through their fingers traveling beyond nightclothes that could never be yours and aren't actually a mistake of buying at all but are)

"Okay, okay, we don't have to." You think you'd normally relish at the terror in his face, but apparently you don't! Ahahah! How cool and neat and amazing!!

You're going to do something unthinkable pretty soon if you don't just… breathe…

It isn't working.

You'll ask again. Less to him, more to yourself (hah!).

"What are we gonna do?"

"…I don't know."

"You should. You should know. You're the one that— that, that forced me to be here, when I never wanted to. I was content to die, Stardust, to go off to a pit and just die, but you stopped me claiming to have some plan so you should blinding know what to do! You..." your voice, teetering on the edge of a scream, dies out, not because of the fleeting thought that it might attract the party again, but because of the awful expression Stardust wearing— scrunched up face, pained, pursed lips, reminiscent of the punch you gave him not too many nights ago.

There you go again. You can't stop blinding things up, can you?

"I'm sorry! I just want to help! I-I don't know what to do but I'm trying, I'm trying and you're getting mad at me!!" They lash out just as easily. "I think that!!! Isn't helpful at all!" They're right, they are, you know that, you know you know you know those feelings have to go somewhere you can't bear to keep them with you anymore

You'd answer with something perhaps just as worse, maybe, finish ruining things and make yet another person hate you, but you can't breathe whatever words wanted to come out can't tumble out of your throat no no no they get stuck at the bottom you can't say anything and you can't breathe and everything's swirling

"Oh stars," you hear Stardust, panic painting their face, look what you've done!!! Isn't it wonderful! How they're becoming your own little entertainment! Ahaha! "Loop, I, I think, oh stars— you need to calm down and breathe."

You probably do! Now you have lungs! Or do you not? Maybe you don't have them at all and your face is yet another pale imitation, something other trying to fit into the conforms of normalcy, yet being so far from it, can only offer an uncanny vision of what it's supposed to be.

Now here is the question: can you breathe? You can't. It isn't helping anymore. Trying to makes something deep in your chest burns, searing pain that squeezes what you may think is your lungs. Doesn't do anything against the constant onslaught of horrible feeling throughout. Whatever it is, it keeps hurting. Whatever it is, it makes you want to tear your face off all over again, let the blood seeps in through your eyes slip in through the cracks to find out what is it that you had inside of you for something like this to happen.

You can't breathe.

Something coils inside of you

and it is terrible

and it is afraid

and it's terrified

something revealed and you…

don't…

don't like what you see.

Actually, scratch that. You're panicking. That's what's happening. You're panicking because you're sure your Stardust is saying words yet you can't hear any of them. Maybe you're making a noise, too, a soundless noise that is not a noise or a scream at all.

Your fingertips scratch through your arms, drags blood out of it. There is an emptiness inside you and you need to make sure that— that— even still, you have something inside. Blood trickles down. You see Stardust make another noise, at the sight of you maybe, or at the fact that you're way past the point of caring what's happening to you to do this in front of them (they don't deserve to see this they don't deserve to look at you like that you're horrible enough why can't you hold yourself together), what does it matter anyway! It's not like holding the mess that you are is going to do anything, it's never done anything, because look at you, look at you, look at you you've changed you're not what you used to be

What caused this?

Is it even worth it to ask, anymore?

You glance at the mirror again.

It's still Stardust's face.

(you and your hope of it being something else something)

…Didn't you want this, once?

Didn't you want to be something else than a gutted and hollow piece of a former self? Didn't you want to have what your Stardust has? Isn't this what you wanted?

It's not worth to ask, anymore.

Maybe if you tear yourself open, let your blood trickle down and down and down, what you'll find wouldn't be emptiness, but whatever this feeling is, stretching endlessly just like the night sky you're so wont to avoid these days. And if that's true then you… you…

You need to feel something else.

Anything else.

Stardust touches you and you startle.

"Loop," That's a name you recognize. That's the name they should refer to you. Anything else and they'll know what you are. "Loop, breathe. Please," They ask so sadly so sweetly and you try to you really do but it isn't working it's not working something…

just

breaks

inside of you

You can't breathe. You try to follow them but the roaring of your heart is loud and it seems that no air can get inside, it's tight and it hurts and something pools inside your guts that's panic that's just panic and now there you are, throat constricted, unable to get air out, you're full on heaving, body convulsing with the absolutely inhuman cough that you let out, and now it isn't that breathing isn't working it's just that you blinding can't, it feels like you're dangling at the edge of vomiting and oh stars you do have a mouth now right, a stomach and guts and all that so what would come out of you? Blood? Darkless blood?

it hurts it hurts you can't breathe everything burns burns burns burns you don't want to die choking on your own spit not like this please please please

Stardust-- you want... You want...

Where is he?

"I'm here, I'm here." But you can't see them! Your vision-- you can't see, your only good eye, what, what's going on? "P-panic attack. Really bad one." He sounds so distressed!!! Look what you did!!! You only blind things up, don't you? You're horrible! You're crying. "No, no, I--" You're sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Don't leave. Darkness encompasses you and you want to-- to--"Okay. Listen to me." You are, you are, you are, but you can't see them and each cough hurts burns there's lungs and you don't want them you don't you don't-- they'll see what you are and they'll know what you did and they'll know the extent of your mistakes and how much worse you were and while you know they're not yours it'll hurt it'll really break you just like it hurt to not be recognized by your party that one time except this time they'll see and they'll know and you can't no no no no

"I'm sorry", you hear them say, and...

You're being pulled against him.

Pressed flush against your Stardust. More of a hug than the cuddle of yesterday, which you still haven't thought too much about what it means. His hand goes behind your neck, into the fluff of your hair (!), applying pressure to force you to hide between theirs. You have no choice, so you do.

You can feel them.

All around you. Arms and hands around your torso. Their hair tickles you. He holds you so tight to try to stop the heaving. You still cough a little, lurching forwards, only not doubling over because they're holding you.

His heart beats, beats and beats. Frantic. Matching yours. Do you have one now? you must, because it hurts. It hasn't stopped hurting.

"You're here. You're here. I'm with you. Please... Please breathe. You need to. A-at least I think you do, now?" Their voice is so distressed!!! Panicked. You're so sorry. Shouldn't have done that. "It's okay. I don't mind. Don't apologize, Loop. Shh." Are you? You can't hear your own voice. Would you recognize it, if you did? They keep lightly scraping at your hair, that's nice. But you can't. You can't. "Okay. Okay. Uhhh… Let's do something else then. Focus on my voice. Can you do that?" You nod. Sounds easy enough. You hug them back. Trembling. Shivering. They're so cold. Is he okay? "I don't know what's happening, but I'm here, with you. You're here. In the inn. Inn-side it. You remember that awful pun, don't you? It was really bad." You agree. Awful. Just like you're feeling right now. "Our family's outside. Outside our room." You take in a big gulp and ah-- burns, burns burns. It's not your family. It isn't. They'll hate you regardless. You… "Good. Good. You're doing good. Out, now." Exhale. A little too fast-- Stardust scrapes at your head and it distracts you, ah "Again." They murmur. You can feel his voice. Rumble of his chest. Rolling. Rising and falling against your own.

"With me." He breathes in deeply. You shakily follow. You're rewarded with a squeeze.

Stardust lets out. You follow. Trying to match the rhythm of his body. You like the feeling of them against you. It's too much and just enough to distract you of everything else. Makes your mind a little blank. Foggy. Almost the same feeling of yesterday. Yesterday…

"Mhm." Pleasant little noise. You notice how tense your Stardust is. You know why. You can ignore it as much as you want but you hear the distress on their voice. This is too much. For you. For them. Too many steps ahead. He should pull away. Throw you out. Kill you. Even if you don't want them to you don't want them to you don't want them to please please please don't "It's okay, Loop, it's okay. You're not alone. I'm here." You think this makes you cry harder. Can't tell. "Whatever this is, we'll figure it out, okay? I'll help you." He's babbling now. You know it. And you know you don't deserve these promises, but… you cling to them regardless. Squeeze the body that holds you. Bury your face into their neck to muffle your sobs. Sink into that comfort.

You're terrible.

Bury yourself deep into their clothes that smell so faintly of sugar.

Horrible.

Relish into the feeling of their nails on your head, digging softly into your scalp.

(familiar)

Despicable.

Accept what they offer you (because you're desperate because you want to because you're selfish) until… your sobs start to die down.

…Ahh.

Stars.

"Can you walk?" Maybe. Maybe?? You think so. Your lungs still burn. Your throat still feel caught on something. But you can breathe. Somewhat. Slowly, you nod. "Okay. I'll let go of you now. Let's get out of this bathroom." But—

"Okay…" Your voice sounds raspy. Hurts. Ow. Okay. No more talking. Sure.

Vision comes back. Your Stardust leads you out and to the messy bed, now just your hands touching. You… try not to miss the hug.

Your head hurts. Hair is sticking to your face. Ugh. Better not to think too much about this.

He looks at you.

"Feeling a little better?" You sniffle. Ew. "Do you want some water…?" Oh! OH!! That's right! You can drink water now, can't you? Ohhhh. Oh no that might be too overwhelming. Should you? "You can drink water now, yes…?"

"I don't…" Augh. Your throat (!). Speaking hurts. Horrible. You want to be held again. "Know…?" You sound like a dying creature. You kinda want to laugh at that.

"Uhh, let's try it…?"

A nod.

He fishes out a canteen from their things, as well as a spare towel. You don't get the first drop because Stardust uses it to wet the towel, but after the grumble (not a whimper!!!) you let out, it's handed over to you.

…Okay. So you think you remember water. Lips. Swallowing. Yeah. It hasn't been that long, has it?

It's… kind of scary to try. Will it taste like anything? Your mouth sort of tastes like either sugar or ash. All the time.

Fingers wrap around the cold little thing as you bring it to your mouth (!). Your lips part, and…

(familiar)

If you drink it, will it go anywhere? Or will you maybe explode?

Tastes good, though, and if that's gonna kill you just like the pineapple that one time then you'll die satisfied to get this taste again. Travels down your throat (!) and soothes the burn in it. You feel it settle down in your belly (!) and wow that's strange. To know that you have one. Ough.

You drink the entire thing. Brain (!) helpfully supplies the following: Wow! Water! So good? Wow!!!

Stardust's looking at you with mild amusement.

"Don't." Least your voice sounds better now. Stardust snorts, then raises the damp towel, silent question. Oh yeah. Arms. "Ah, sure, gimme that,"

But he pulls it away from you and you huff in indignation.

"Hey!"

"Sorry. Healing? Is what I mean."

"Ah… Should you really be doing that?" You can certainly fix it yourself. Or not. Maybe you'll leave it so the sting will remind you of what you're supposed to be. Stardust just shrugs. "Don't blame me if you die later."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

You still shiver when he touches you with the towel, though you didn't mean to. You hiss. His other hand moves the sleeve of your stolen nightclothes, muttering an apology.

Then comes the sharp feeling of healing craft. (familiar) He sways again. Stardust takes a heavy, dragged on breath. Yep. Shouldn't have done that. Either way, he wipes both of your arms before pulling away.

Wasn't awkward! Success!

"Here. For your face."

Oh yeah you'd probably just die if Stardust did that for you, too.

"…Thank you." You say while your face's gone to the towel. Horrible.

"Ew. Genuine thanks?" The blargh they let out makes you laugh.

You don't look at him. You look at the stains of blood on it. Darkless. Shimmery. That's. Probably not normal. Ha. Don't. Don't think about it.

You're fine now, remember?

As much as you can be.

"Can people just… suddenly change, like this?" Stardust asks, cautiously. Looking at you like they're searching for something.

"If I knew I wouldn't be freaking out!"

A scowl. "I know. That was a stupid question, sorry."

"It very much was." You don't actually blame them, though. They usually come to you for answers, not the other way around. "But I forgive you because you're my little Stardust."

Eye roll. Aww.

Anyway.

"I don't want to leave you alone, but…" You don't want to be alone, either. You keep your mouth shut. "I think we should go downstairs unless we want Isa and Bonnie to break down the door to check on us."

Stars. That's right. You've forgotten. If the two of you take too long, they'll certainly come back and...

"…I can't show myself like this." Stardust looks like they wanna protest, but give up on it.

"Well, you gotta get out sometime…"

Ahaha. The thought makes something try to creep back into the forefront of your mind. You must be making some horrible face because Stardust says: "Okay. We don't have to do that right now. We'll… um. Figure out something. I think. Maybe."

"Just like we know exactly what made this happen in the first place?" You're feeling mean.

"More or less."

"Sure, whatever. Let's… think of something. Maybe that sheet idea of the Kid could work after all. Or! This inn room could be my grave!" Like the Favor tree was supposed to be, once. "I'll live here forever!"

"You can't do that though."

"I can and I will."

"We still have to travel."

"Do it without me. I'll be living here." You pat the mattress for good measure. It's very comfortable. Has a bed and a bathroom (with a bathtub!) and a window. What else could you need?

"How? You don't have any money." Neither does them!

"I'll use my newly acquired privileges of having the savior of Vaugarde face." Look at you!!! You're so fine! Can even joke about the sudden change now!!! Normal!!! You're so normal and not insane at all!

Stardust doesn't seem to share your elation. Boo.

"That's not gonna work."

"It might."

"…Loop. I'm not gonna leave you here." You know they won't. They'll never let you go. You're stuck in a prison of your own twisted creation.

Wait, no. Dangerous line of thought. Back up a bit.

"Ugh. Let's. Let's just think of something while you go eat or something. I don't wanna talk about this anymore." You really, really don't.

"…Okay. Will you be fine alone?"

Shrug. Nope. Absolutely not!

"Yeah. Promise I won't destroy my new face or anything like that." You might. He really doesn't seem to like how you joke about this. Absurd! Isn't that the point of having a doppelganger, to have someone that'll always get your jokes?

"Please don't." It's quite funny how seriously they say this. You feel a laugh bubble out of you. Mirthless.

"I won't. Go eat, Stardust. I think you need it." The craft thing. Must be that.

Hesitation.

"I'll be back soon."

"With a solution, I hope!"

"…I'll try my best."

He lingers a little, still. Though neither you or Stardust say anything.

You're… tired.

You want to sleep. And never wake up again.

Tired.

So tired of breaking and rebuilding and breaking again.

(familiar)

You reach for a pillow. Press your face against it. It's comfortable.

The scream that's lodged in your throat doesn't come out, though.

You're alone.

That's fine.

The room is bathed in silence. The glow of the star in your chest seeps through the crevices of your arm and spills out of the nightclothes. At least they're comfy, still.

(Even though you can't see it)

You hug your arms again. You could go for some water. The bathroom does have a sink. Will you perish if you try drinking from it? Ah. Right. You don't wanna think about the logistics of the change you just went through. Nope! Let's do something else!

(Even though you can't hear it can't begin to understand)

…Like what?

…

…

…

……

……

Oh no. You can't think of anything to do. And you know what happens when you have nothing to do. Nothing good.

(The way the blankets felt too warm on your skin too much touch on your body and yet)

Okay. Okay. What are your options? You've got those, right? Yeah.

You could very well go through Stardust things again and find something interesting to mess with, like the clay or the coin or any other stupid trinket the fool kept, but you don't really want to do that for reasons you cannot begin to decipher. You could explore this room, but… you don't care a single bit for it, it sucks and you refuse to commit this to memory. You could go to the bathroom again and try some water, see if you die from drinking tap water, or try to start the bathtub and perhaps drown inside it or—

Or.

There's something else, isn't it? Something you're… curious about.

(not enough because what you seek is an entirely selfish desire, and that's the thing isn't it?)

You shouldn't. Listening in is bad. Sure, you did it a lot during Stardust loops, but these… aren't… the loops, anymore. It shouldn't become an habit.

It's just. They're there, somewhere, and you can't hear them. And… and…

(You're selfish despicable so many words to describe the ever constant feeling of inadequacy that clings to you, all of those are quite useless because as soon as you think them they're discarded as fast as you can think them, because you don't really care, because you're here in their arms here with them and as long as you're there you're fine even if everything changes you'll be fine because here everything seems manageable)

No. Don't.

You…

Don't!

you miss them

Your fingernails start to scratch at your sides. You immediately jerk then away. Touch the fuzzy blanket instead. Beloved fuzzy blanket. Where you and your Stardust cuddled— oh no no no no let's not think about that either, you don't think you're ready for those, ahaha!!

…

(The darkness inside you continues swirling, coming forward, dragging and trudging and sluggishly walking that same path you do, comes to wake you to hold you by the neck where it would so softly scrape at the sensitive area behind it on where your hair would be if it existed, would coach a whimper out of you, tender soft love, softness that precedes violence that precedes tenderness again.)

Okay. Fine. Just. It's for a good cause of not breaking down again. You're supposed to be here to help your Stardust, after all, not the other way around. And science. You didn't see if this ability in particular still works, did you?

You close your eyes, and…

Vision changes. You see what looks to be a table that Stardust is just settling into. You feel a little bit of nausea and you can't really identify if that's from them or because of how sudden the change of places has been. Both? Maybe?

Anyways!!!

The party comes into view as well. Food is strewn on the table, most of it unidentifiable since it's already been eaten.

"So, Siffrin, care to explain what exactly happened?" The Researcher. She looks… mad? You don't know??? She's always been hard to read, in your opinion. She'd be mad at you if she knew.

Your vision shifts a little again, as your Stardust settles down, looking at anywhere but his Researcher. You can feel the pinpricks of his nervousness.

(You think of how tightly he holds you and you think of how he's surely never done this before and)

"What m'dame means is… Is Loop okay?" That's the Fighter. Looks like Researcher gives him a grateful sigh. Woo! Not mad!

She should be.

"They're better than before, but wanted to stay in bed for a while longer."

"Oh…" that comes from your Housemaiden. "Um. I don't want to be rude, but…" She's twiddling her thumbs. "Was it… a loops thing? The occurrence, not the star person. I'm... worried. They looked so out of it yesterday, and now..."

"Uh," Oh they better answer this one correctly or you're going to punt him into the sun. Bye bye Stardust. "…Yeah. Something like that."

Kid's in the table, so nobody presses. You know they want to, though.

"They must be feeling so grumpy they don't want to see anyone. I get it." Speaking of, said Kid nods very sagely.

"Mhm, Loop's pretty shy, it's okay." Fighter remarks.

"Yeah. They'll… be back later." Or never, if you can help it.

"Well, if you say they're okay, then that's that. Update us on their situation later." No, Researcher, no! Though everyone else seems to agree??? Why?! There's no use worrying about you. You're not here to be worried about. You're here to help. You've done nothing.

They wouldn't worry if they knew what happened, you're sure.

"I'm glad Loop has you to take care of them, though!" Housemaiden. Huh?!!?! "And that Loop is there for you, too."

You can't see the face Stardust's making since you're looking through him, quite unfortunately. They do share the confusion you feel, though.

"Yeah!" Fighter. "From what you told us, seems like you were each others pillars."

(you don't care how wrong it is to feel happy about the fact that you stole a first experience that their Fighter could never ever have could never ever beat, rose shaded glasses nostalgia that dictates every other experience that'll follow, a never ending seeking of wonder filled first feeling)

Pretty weird to try to kill your friend that's helping, but something like that, you suppose. Though you wouldn't use such cheesy language. Makes it look like you're something you're not. Ew.

"I guess so… I wouldn't be here if it weren't for them."

Ew ew ew ew ew GROSS! No! Bad! Hateful and terrible and horrible!

"Awww" the party coos as a collective. Except for the Kid. You're glad you're not there to be seen exploding. Stardust is! Suffer!

"You're both so cute, Siffrin!!!"

"…No!!!"

No, no, he's horrible actually. Disgusting little thing.

"Very cute." Researcher?! "But seriously… if Loop wants to talk to us about it, they can. Tell them that for us, okay?"

You hate this conversation.

"Yes!!! They can talk to us!!! About whatever they like. I'd love to be friends!!"

"Oh yes, I'd love a sassy star friend."

(it's like this happened before, so long ago, hands cradled around your face)

You shouldn't have done this.

"You're sure? Loop's pretty difficult."

"They seem fine to me, just shy."

You shouldn't have done this.

(You feel the softness of the blankets around you both, its warmth gentle, lovely, a cocoon to keep you both safe from)

"Very mysterious!"

"And suspicious."

You shouldn't have done this.

"You thought Sif was suspicious too when we met them, m'dame."

You really shouldn't have done this.

(the world and whatever it is that it could ever want to get you, you don't know what it is but you're certain that there's something pursuing you,)

"Oh gems, not this again. You'll never let me live that down, will you?"

"Nope! It will be written in all books!"

"Woe is me. Anyway. How about you, Siffrin? How are you feeling? You look a bit off."

Because of you.

"…I'm fine." You know he isn't. You can feel it. Literally. "Is there anything left for me? I'm hungry."

You shouldn't have done this, because… because…

the way the party smiles,

The way they bicker so easily

the way your stardust giggles

the way there's nothing but worry and love thrown their way

It's all

so

painfully

(familiar)

You… can't do this anymore.

They're not your family.

(Even though you can't see it.)

They're not who you want them to be.

And even if they were, they wouldn't accept you so easily. You were so much worse, and… You're sure that you'll continue to be.

Back to your body with a heave. You take in a deep breath. Feel your body. Move your fingers. Feel your limbs. You're Loop again. Loop with Siffrin's face. Check if that's still there— Yep. All there. You're here, then.

Alive.

You're in the room. Somehow laying down in the bed Stardust left you in, clutching at the fuzzy blanket.

Not with them.

Your family's nowhere to be seen.

(is this what grief does?)

You curl up into yourself.

You're alone.

Drip, drip, drip.

It's raining.

You get up slowly. Have you slept and woken up? Looking outside, it doesn't seem like all that much time has passed, the room is not yet bathed into darkness or anything of the sorts. Stardust still hasn't come back, and…

…

You're feeling weird. Which is honestly an understatement to the amount of feelings trying to burst out of you, but, eh, what can one do. If you slept, you don't remember whatever it is that you dreamt. And as much as you want to go see what your Stardust is up to and find out if a lot of time truly passed, you don't want… To repeat that particular mistake.

…

…

(wake you up over and over take a breath take another and feel your limbs and be bereft of sobs dried out of tears without a voice to cry and wail out if only you could cry out now cry out because)

…

You…

There's some sort of evil little voice inside your head telling you to do it, to… make sure…

And you're powerless to stop it, aren't you?

You need to see. You need to see what you are.

You don't register the short walk that took you to the bathroom again. You're there, looking down at starry feet.

(you're alive.)

It's silly to do this, but. You close your eyes as you raise your head.

You need to see it. You don't want to see it. You need to know. You don't need to know. You felt it before. Why would you look again? But you need to. You need to.

You're afraid.

(You cannot get out of here.)

You open your eyes again…

and...

...

...

The glow of your star is back.

…Huh?

You're. What.

(You can't put an end to this darkness because)

…Is this a joke?

It must be. Isn't it? It's a joke. You just… Why? Are you doomed to be given things just to have them ripped away from you? Is that the new gag?

(this isn't as simple as a clouded sky without stars,)

…

(not all darkness is created equal.)

Haa…

You're so tired.

(You can't get reprieve of what follows you because)

You didn't even get time to process the first change, (of memory, awareness, what's gathered of you,) and now you've changed again. So many things happened in the span of yesterday to today, and none of these situations have been given the proper time to digest and pick away at it.

You should be feeling indignation at it. You don't.

(and this sweet feeling as you're being held in your sleep.)

Your heart should be racing, roaring, screaming with your blood (?). It isn't.

You should be tasting nothing, ash, yet all you do taste is sugar.

(Any memory that precedes this moment hits you so violently it offers no memory at all.)

Corpse. You're a corpse. Nothing but a corpse that's somehow moving.

(So you make another.)

Okay. It's fine. It's fine!!! You'll just. Go back to your original suffering. Like you wanted. Now that's less problems for you and your Stardust, huh? You don't have to be terrified of the party anymore. That's good. That's good!!!

…

(Who are you?)

You come to touch your face again.

(If there's nobody to remember you)

Strangely enough, you do feel… like there's something there, albeit hidden.

(Do you even exist)

Okay. That's. Also fine. You think???

You try pressing a finger inside that light. You feel your own touch, and resistance. You try a nail next. Owie. Again. Hard enough to tear skin.

(if there's nobody to utter your name at all?)

Your finger comes out bloody. Darkless, shimmery, like before (do NOT think about this). Not your imagination then. Your faces still there. Somehow. Hidden beneath light.

…That's a relief. Isn't it?

(You don't, you're what they make you to be since you cannot bear yourself to build anything anymore, arms battered and savaged and bloody face puffy dark with tears)

Okay.

Question number one!

(You're here, after all, aren't you? Because they wished to, because they can't let go, because whatever's left the universe wants it so you can repent, because you need to keep the show going the world will keep going even if you're not here even if you're forgotten just as it keeps going without your home they'll move on and keep traveling without you because this journey was only ever meaningful to you,)

Why did this happen? (but) Again???

Your Stardust?

(He holds you, it's warm, legs between yours, chest to chest, breath tickling your skin, peaceful expression on a face that thousands of loops later you still manage to be fascinated with, you don't know where you begin and he ends, even if it's awkward even if it'll keep being awkward come morning where sleep can no longer stop the steady march of your pursuer even if you'll come to think that you don't deserve such a sweet hold from someone who's broken battered bloody teary adorable)

Oh. Right, he isn't here.

(You hear their your heart beating in his chest ba dum ba dum ba dum drip drip drip goes the rain pitter and patter, their heart's louder, it's enough to distract you, calming, human, familiar, alive, if only you could hear the breath and soft snore of the party as well but it's fine that's okay drip drip drip tap tap tap ba dum ba dum)

You…?

(Isn't it nice? Isn't it wonderful?)

You cannot fathom in what universe you'd want to do that (you also didn't think you wanted to trap yourself in a time loop but look what happened), plus that'd be a terrible thought to consider, so you throw that away.

(Look at you. You'll mold yourself to be anything as long as you get a little bit of love, won't you?)

The universe, then? It's…

(If he sings a melody you'll dance,)

…

(if they lead you'll call him universe)

Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

What is it telling you? What is the message its conveying through these sudden changes? You don't know what you're supposed to do. You don't know…

You don't know how long you can keep with putting up this show for the Universe anymore.

(and as a universe they'll melt into you, hug you close, head in their chest, sleep in your bones)

Weren't you supposed to be relieved to have this star in your face again?

You used to love stars.

(Maybe you're pathetic to think this, honestly you've been terribly pathetic this entire time, but…)

The night sky holds you. Its great hands close around a throat you didn't have and then did and then didn't again and now have again. It presses against the arteries you should have. Its immeasurable darkness closes in on you. You can't breath. You can't breathe. You can't breathe.

But you're still alive.

…

(you're reminded that feeling like this is the reason you'll always)

You don't want this life.

Chapter Text

drip,

    drip,

        drip

            drip

                drip

              goes the

                 rain

Pitter and patter. Drip drip dripping outside incessantly, softly. It's nice. Peaceful, somewhat, if not a little weird. You don't like the implications of considering the fact that you haven't heard rain in… Many, many loops.

Hearing it again makes things feel a little bit more real. Tangible.

Anyway.

You're still hungry. You ate all that you could, but you feel like you could get even more if you arrived earlier. Food here was okay. Not as tasty as the one made from your resident chef cooker. You would've eaten it if only to stop the incessant pangs of your stomach.

You could've stayed here a bit more, but, well, you woke up late, so. You'll suffer. And steal some snacks before coming back.

Your party stayed for a little bit, to keep you company, but it seems their tolerance to be around you waned for the day— no, that's not right. They're just. Most of them have plans. Odile's gonna go lay down with a book in her room. Bonnie will hang out with Isa, and Mira might go visit the House of Change of the town, perhaps, if there's one here. You didn't pay attention, regrettably. Hard to do so, a lot of things, these days, when you're constantly so tired (so empty). How terrible. To be tired all the time, yet feel so restless.

Being sick sucks. You hate everything. You want to blow up the entire world.

Alas.

— Hey, could you… stay a bit? —, comes your voice in a tiny little whisper, as Mira's leaving. You might as well be squirming in place to try to quiet down the restless energy within you, though at this point you doubt that'd work. Asking that, well… talking, in general, is a chore for you. Words always seem to get stuck inside your throat while thoughts come out, unbidden.

…but. You have to try. You promised you would.

The look she gives you is a kind one that quickly morphs into something else that you don't quite like— surprise. As if she never thought you'd try to call out, least of all to her.

It upsets you.

The others continue on without you. No one spares a look. You think if they do, then they must be making assumptions and you don't really want that happening. Uncomfortable and all of that.

This restless energy within doesn't leave, still.

— Oh! — She stops on her tracks, dress swaying lightly, in a way you saw so many times before, each one unconsciously hammering a thought within the confines of your mind, in a place you didn't want to look at then and would prefer not to look at now. There's no use feeling jealousy. — Y-yes? Do you need anything?

No, not really. Yes, you do. It's just…

You squirm in place a little, avoiding her ever so sweet gaze, one that you once thought never knew the pushing and turnings of a scowl.

— Not really — you end up saying, the wrong thing, though you move quickly to elaborate: — I… Are we still feelings buddies?

Her eyes light up, seems to understand what you mean. As the rest of the party disappears among the quickly dwindling crowd of people, she sits back down with you and the empty plates.

— Oh! Yes, yes, of course! Do you mean you want to… — her voice exudes excitement. Like she's happy to hear you out. It warms something inside of you. You wish you could relish this feeling. Instead, you nod. — Okay! — You watch her sit back neatly, dress puffed around her legs, hands on her lap. — What's up?

You hesitate. That feeling still remains, clinging to you. Sticky.

You think of something else.

— …Are you nervous? — She asks. You pick on the material of your gloves, back on as the ultimate safety measure to save your nails from your ever hungry jaws. Though nowadays you think that if you tried to bite them, you wouldn't stop at a nail.

You're the one who asked, so you should answer.

Slowly, you nod.

— O-oh! Well, if you need a minute! — It feels disgusting to accept it, but you do anyways. You need to try.

You're looking at your lap. Limbs that don't feel quite like yours. Not after yesterday. Or the other yesterday. Or the other. You're collecting yesterdays.

None feel real.

You think of a night sky, full of stars.

She waits patiently.

You take those moments to gather your words, arrange them into neat little options. Patterns.

You come short of them.

— I'm sorry — is what you end up saying in the end. Her face softens.

— It's okay, Siffrin, you don't have to apologize. Talking is hard!!!

It is.

But…

— I feel like I do. For a lot of things.

— Are you still thinking of…? — She trails off, voice fading. Your little temper tantrum, yes.

— That, too — and. Other stuff.

She, too, stops.

— Oh, Siffrin… — She sighs. You hate it. Hate how that disappointment look on her face. — Don't apologize! You don't need to! I'm not that mad at you anymore.

You don't… really say anything to that. You still feel so many things. None of them good.

— How are you holding up, so far? — You end up asking instead.

— Uh, okay, I guess? — She looks confused. — It's nice to not have the curse to worry about. I'm… admittedly, a little stressed about… all the attention that comes with it. — You hum. — There's just. So many people wanting to thank me at once!!!

— Are any of them making you uncomfortable or something? — Do you need to kill someone?

— No, no, Change!!! Everyone's been so sweet!

— So I don't need to kill anyone, got it. — You say to make her laugh, and it's a success!! It eases up some of the tension on her face.

— No, silly, you don't. I… guess the problem is just that I'm not used to all this attention. I don't feel like I did anything… To deserve that.

— You did, though. You saved Vaugarde.

She smiles.

— I… Yes. I did. I accepted that. I think?? — Still looks like an uncomfortable subject. That's okay. You won't press. — I want to hide sometimes, but, you know what? I'll manage! I'll be okay! — She will, you know that. She looks so much happier, now. — What about you, Siffrin?

You continue to squirm.

— Worried about Loop, mostly.

And tired. And frustrated. And sad. And restless. And a collection of so many other feelings that, if you start naming, you don't think you could manage to hold all at once.

You'd tell her, but…

Always a but these days, huh?

Baby steps. Small steps are better than no steps. Right?

— Oh… Are they okay?

— I don't know… — You don't think they are. — On the surface? They're fine. But… they seem to be struggling and I don't know how to help. Or… if I can help at all.

She pauses to think. You keep picking at your gloves. They feel… weird. You can't tell why.

— Hm… Well, I don't know if I have any meaningful advice for you, because… I don't really know them? — You want to laugh at that. — They seem really shy, but kind.

— Aren't you mad at them for trying to kill me? — You end up asking without really wanting to. It confused you, this lack of indignation of the party towards Loop.

— Mnghmghhh, yes? No? I don't know? I don't like that they tried… — She clasps her hands together, presumably to stop herself from chewing at her nails. — And I certainly have not forgotten!

— Then?

— The fact is that they're trying to be better! — You guess so. — And they haven't hurt you again. I think… they probably just lashed out from stress, like you did.

Ah.

— Yeah. — Amongst other things that you can't tell her. You wish you could. — Pretty much.

— They were in the loops with you, right? Can I… ask how they helped, exactly? You never really elaborated…

You wonder if Loop would be okay with you telling her. Maybe?

— They'd mainly answer questions, remind me of things, and help me theorize solutions when I needed. Most of all, they were just really annoying. — Sorry, Loop. You'll have to apologize to them later.

— Sort of an extended version of how Loop helped us go through the house! — She beams at the memory. You nod. — Did they ever go through the house as well?

— No. They preferred to sit at the Favor Tree, instead. I don't think they could leave there... — Could they? You never asked. And you never needed, or, better, wanted, their help.

— Oh, okay… Like… a celestial thing? A restriction?

— Uh. Maybe? I don't know. — Loop never told you. Loop hasn't told you a lot of things. — I think so?

— That's fair! My point is, regardless of how the days went, if I was repeating the same days over and over and couldn't even do anything else besides watch and help… I would be pretty mad, too! Maybe I would even also try to do something terrible to you if I was pushed far enough!!

You don't think so. She's so sweet to you. To all versions of you. Even though you don't deserve it.

— Mhm… — You still haven't asked what you wanted. — I. Just want to help them. But I don't know how.

It hurts to see Loop like this.

Pull, pull. Pick away at the words under your skin. Your gloves don't have the right feeling. The material's thin.

You think of skin that's made of static.

— You're so sweet, Siffrin.

— No!!! — You're really not. Feels weird to get teased by her, now. It's usually the other way around.

— You are!!! It's sweet how you want to help them!!!

— No!!! I'm not…

— You really are!!! — She boops you. It's sudden, so you flinch, smiling quickly to reassure her it was okay. — Have you tried talking to them?

— They don't like that very much. — Like you. — And I don't want to force them. — You've been forcing them to do so much, already. Disgusting.

— Maybe you should press a little bit more?

— I've been. Doing that. But Loop is stubborn. I do think they want help, — you say quickly. — It's just very hard for them to accept it. — At least that's what you tell yourself. To halt other thoughts.

— Well… Loop can always try to talk to one of us, if they want to?

You doubt that. You just make a noise.

— They seem to prefer talking to you more, from what I noticed, so… You could? Try to convince them to talk to us? I-I don't know! I'm sorry!! Isabeau's better at this than me!!!

— No, no, you don't have to apologize!! — You scramble to calm her. You… hold her hand. She trembles, but accept it. You let out a breathe of relief, ugly little memory at the back of your head slithering away. It's not the same thing. It's not. — It's not your fault, okay? Feelings are difficult.

— They really are! — She smiles, a strained little thing. — But… I'm glad you're talking to me, you know?

…You duck your head into nothing. You miss your cloak. And your hat.

You wonder if Loop has your cloak right now.

— Yeah, me too. — But you still haven't asked what you needed. — Hey… Can I ask you something? If that's okay?

She nods.

— Of course! — Though you can tell she's antsy, confused. You let go of her hand, not because you dislike it, but because it makes you think of Loop, and…

Ugh. Feelings. You hate having them, sometimes. Especially now.

You take in a breath.

— Can people change suddenly?

It doesn't seem like she was expecting the question.

— If they want to, I guess? — Oh no. She's looking at you suspiciously. You gulp. — Why? …Are you thinking of changing, Siffrin?

You hate how excited she looks at the idea.

— No, no, I'm. uh. Just curious. For no reason at all.

— Oh!! Okay… — Excitement wanes, she squints her eyes at you. How will you ask this without looking weird? Ugh.

How about this:

— But that's not what I mean. Like... Can you be an entirely different person? From day to night.

— Huh?? Well, if something traumatic happens, they can change, yes, but... That feels bad…? Because the person will have changed by the circumstances, not because they wanted to... — Unsaid: like you did. — Siffrin...? 

Still not what you mean. There doesn't seem to be a good way to ask it, so…

— What about physically?

That startles her.

— No??? It takes a couple of days, at least. Craft isn't that advanced yet!

Huh.

— Hm. Okay. Thanks, Mira.

That's not the end of the conversation.

— That sounds so ominous, Siffrin!

You smile. It's funny to hear that come from someone else's mouth. You're free from the script, yet it follows you wherever you go either way.

— Don't worry about it, I'm not planning anything nefarious.

She pauses for a second and you can't hold the joke for long. You start giggling. She joins you. It's nice to see her smile easily, like this. You missed this sort of thing.

You're glad to have them with you, still.

But that's not you, is it?

You're Loop, now. Helpful Loop, here to help with the loops that ended what could be weeks or years ago for all you know. Helpful Loop, here to help with life post loops, because your Stardust is still awful at conversation. Helpful Loop, because your Stardust decided he needs you, and if you're not here, then your Stardust might end the world again. Because the Universe wills you to be here. Because there is nowhere else for the Universe to send you, thus you remain.

It could never be you.

You're Loop.

The star person.

The corpse that wears a human face sometimes, when the Universe deem it funny.

You're not with the Housemaiden because this isn't your Mirabelle.

It could never be her.

It could never be you.

This love isn't meant to be yours.

(But you want it to be, don't you?)

They have no need for something like you, rotting, decaying, broken beyond recognition.

You're only shards upon shards of yourself. A shard standing between shards.

So stop this already, stop, stop, stop, make it stop, stop it you can't take it anymore you need to feel something something else something that isn't hollowness—

Drip, drip, drip.

It's raining. You can hear the distant tippy-tap of raindrops, falling and falling, far enough that, for a second, you can pretend, think of something else, something that isn't an endlessly dark, suffocating corridor.

You're tired of feeling so much.

But the darkness remains and it holds your neck and squeeze squeeze and squeeze and you can't breathe you can't breathe the universe won't let you b re a t h e—

Tired of feeling so little.

If you will not learn this through the usual means, then maybe getting the distant catharsis of regaining something familiar, just to have it torn away from you, will. This is what you were. This is what you can no longer be. The universe asks: do you understand?

Tired of being cold.

Nothing will stave off this emptiness. You hug yourself to call a memory (of a hug that is so incredibly awkward and sweet at the same time), and yet even this does not help you (you are made only of what your Stardust gives you).

Nothing helps. You're beyond help. You are broken. You...

...(are) feel...

...nothing...

...at all...

...

...

There's a piece of glass at your feet and knowledge of well practiced slices to your throat that could quickly end this for you. Non-existence brings all the relief you could ever want, however empty, and what would it even matter if it was, what would the thoughts of those who remain matter if you no longer existed to consider their reactions? What would remain is a piece they created out of nothing to try to make sense of the darkness that compose you. Empty existence. You have no meaning, not really. So what would it matter? It wouldn't.

it wouldn't it wouldn't they don't care for you as you care for them because they no longer exist you can never reclaim what you casted off yourself you--

Not like it would make that much of a difference anyway. Your existence right now can barely be called such, with how days blur into one, just letting the motions bring you along. One day you hold your Stardust's hand. The other you dream a dream that isn't yours. The next one you shake and cry because of a memory that isn't yours. So on and so forth. Can you even call yourself alive? You feel like a corpse letting the Universe winds pull it along. For a show you no longer feel capable of keeping afloat, never wanted to do in the first place. Yet...

You're still here. 

Still alive.

You don't want this life you never did all you wanted was for everything to stop was for someone anyone to help you yet all you feel is emptiness never ending emptiness all after being tortured crying screaming no voice to voice your displeasures no lips to say what you need no lungs to breathe the breathes that would calm you no heart to beat nothing to call your own because you don't deserve anything this isn't for you it was never for you why do you have to feel this way while your stardust where are they gets to be happy gets to have a face gets to be a person it's not fair it's not fair it's not fair

There's a piece of glass at your feet. It shines with your reflection (Even a broken mirror...). Distorts what you are. Refracts a self inside a self outside a self.

The solution looks as inviting as ever.

It'd be easy.

It'd be so easy to prove yourself a hypocrite.

Shiny. Pretty. You could make stars. Add more to the ones you already have. Make one as big as the scar star in your chest. You could finally fall into the nothingness you so badly crave to be (not feel, not feel, please please something anything anyone). Maybe it'd bring a bit of warmth into your body.

It'd be so easy. You know it would. You'd stop feeling. You'd stop being. Nothing to be felt as your body is puppeteered around for the whims of the Universe. No face to be had, no face to regain, if you are simply not here.

…

…

…

Why are you hesitating, then?

Your hands are shaking.

You hold a shard to your chest, where your scar star is, mere centimeters away from touching it. The sharp glint of glass is pointed towards you.

Your heart's beating so fast.

Your hands keep trembling. Blood shimmery glowing starts to trickle down, pain flares from your palm, glass burying inside your skin (not enough), pain barely registered, barely matters when everything will just s t o p soon it will stop it will stop soon please make it stop please please please

You pull the shard away from you

and

there is

nothing,

nothing

nothing

nothing

Not a shard nor blood nor stars blinding your vision, anything.

but,

you're here

still alive,

You're here you're still here you're here you're here you're here you're here you're here you're here you're here you're here you're here you're here you're here you

See a shard glinting at the corner of your vision. It is a piece a glass, inviting relief. A solution. If you are tired, then…

It shines with your reflection (a broken mirror...). Distorts what you are. Refracts a self that was made out of you for you.

You're not even supposed to be here, anyway. 

They won't miss you. You're too broken to be missed. What are you, really? A corpse. A corpse that occasionally drips down what remains of your feelings. Even those are coming short off of you, these days.

No memory. No friends. No family. No Universe. Nothing but yet another piece of yourself (the only one that deserves to be happy) to bind you to this earth.

If you are tired, then...

...

......

..........

Your hands are shaking.

All you need is enough force to slice skin.

You hold a shard to your neck, where you did so many times before.

You pull it back from you and

there

is

nothing

not shard nor blood nor stars blinding your vision nor nausea from the sharp feeling of dying, weakness that drags you back to start yet again, once again, one more time.

Your hands haven't even left your arms (coward). You hug yourself to call a memory (of a hold that felt so sweet), and yet even this does not help you (you want to be more than what you are).

You are crying.

Why are you crying?

You can't breathe.

Why can't you breathe?

Why are you doubling over yourself you can't breathe you feel nauseous everything hurts and it doesn't hurt you can't feel anything and you can feel everything and you do not want any of this you don't you really don't why are you doing any of this why is any of this happening were you honestly so horrible where is your Stardust where is your family 

(You think of your Stardust, soft sleepy voice calling out for you, all but begging you to stay, and despite yourself despite who they are despite what you tell yourself you)

…

You're alone.

(want to stay)

You don't want to be alone.

Back to your body (again) with a heave.

Take a breathe now, Loop. Feel your body. Move your fingers (no blood). Feel your limbs (are they really yours?). You're Loop again (Loop without a Siffrin face that wishes to have it back without the Universe tearing it away from you).

All that you were ever meant to be, eh?

(You're afraid)

Haha.

...

...Anyway. You better be normal again before your Stardust (where is he?) comes back and see you potentially trying to do something untoward with yourself (did you? did you really? did you?). Yeah. Normal. You still remember how to do that, yes? Back to the stage? Back to the stage.

Okay. Okay. Okay!!!!!

You… should do something.

Let's start with the basics! How are you feeling? Besides bad?

(to die and lose the little that you have,)

There's a sweet taste clinging to your mouth (?) (you had one not a few minutes ago). Your tongue (?) (you had one not a few moments ago) feels like lead as it swirls inside to touch your cheek (?) (yet you don't remember it existing as you drank water), and your lips (?) (they parted to speak they parted to drink they would part to bite) feel like they could part to take in a breath, bring some oxygen to your lungs (?) (you had them you had them and you loved them and they loved you back and yet you still wished that terrible wish).

You feel…

…

…

…

no no no no you can't do this again you can't freak out again you don't want to feel all of that not again no no no please please please breathe breathe breathe—

breathe

In and out.

In and out.

In…

and out.

Where's your Stardust?

…

……

………

Try your face again, then. It's still there. Encased in a cage of light. Okay. Okay. It's still here. That's fine. You didn't lose it. You didn't lose it! (didn't you? didn't you really? really really?)

(like a knife gifted to you, or tender moments shared as the darkness renders all that you know unrecognizable.)

That's fine. It's fine. It's fine! You still have (are) something! You can figure things out. And if not what happened, then you can live with this… new reality, yet again. You don't need to seek a reason, or think too much about what this is and what it all means. You just need to feel something that isn't this that isn't dread that isn't hands on your throat squeezing squeezing like they should have done—

It's fine. You'll figure it out. You have the imitation of a face, still, just need to touch it, look for it, and and and

There's a noise that you don't register immediately, though it startles you. Your brain (…?) supplies: creaking of a door opening. Stardust? Is that you, Stardust?

"Loop! I'm back. Where are you?" It is! Okay, okay, they can help you, then! Chase away the feelings, and— oh no no no no no

One thing at a time, remember?

You call out to them. Your voice come in such a tiny little whisper. Frail. Trembling. Gruesome. Despicable. Disgusting.

But you start to feel things again as they come find you.

"Loop— what…" Like this guilt for example. You raise a head (do you still have it? do you really? do you?) that feels like it weights everything and nothing to look at him.

(All because you're here in their arms here with them and as long as you're there you're fine even if everything changes you'll be fine because here everything seems manageable you long for things to make sense)

They stare at you with nothing short of surprise, and that somehow makes you feel yet another something: some type of anger, simmering, boiling at the bottom of your stomach (?). Come on now. Do you look this gruesome? Please stop looking at me like that.

No no no, nope. Nope! You are beyond anger right now. You're too busy getting yourself together. No time for these silly little thoughts that they do not deserve. You need to do something else instead of spiraling. Like stare at him. Staring at him isn't staring at the shiny pretty shards at your feet (your hand is bloody and your neck is bloody and you can't feel a single thing and everyone around you is weeping and yet you still won't die).

The rain outside continues. Drip, drip. Pitter and patter.

"…Okay. Okay." You watch him soothe themself by taking one, two, a few gulps of air, just like you. You follow them. "So your face is gone again. Okay. That's fine. Normal. So normal!!! We— we'll get through this. Okay." Which one of you is the mirror? (Which one of you is real?) "Can you tell me what happened?"

Oh, a question! You can answer those. You're familiar with them. Helpful Loop. Here to help your Stardust.

All you're ever good for.

"Maybe!" You say, with a voice that sounds overly cheery, overly distant. Whatever. You can speak. That's good. "I'm not sure, aha. One moment I was laying down and the next I wasn't, star head back." They don't need to know the details of what you've supposedly been up to. Don't tell them. "And now you're here!!!" you're here alive you're still alive you don't want to be here

Stardust just stares back at you, like you've grown a second head or something. You don't miss how their eye flickers to the shards, nor do you miss the concern as they come back to you.

"J-just like that?" He looks so confused! Poor Stardust. So innocent. What would he do without you? (You have to remain) "How…?"

"I don't know! Isn't that stellar?" You start to giggle. Oh! A pun! Yay!!! Does that mean the Universe can let you be Siffrin again? 

It sounds deranged. Your throat (?) feels scratchy. Ow owie ow.

You want water.

"…And the mirror?"

"Dunno. Might have smashed it. Might have not. I dunno!!!" Isn't that amazing? Are you watching Universe? 

Is anyone?

It does not feel as good as you've hoped to see the horrified expression your Stardust gives you.

"…Uh. Right. Let's… get you out of here. Okay?" Before you hurt yourself. Before you do something stupid. They do not need to state the unstated.

"Mhm-hm, whatever you say~ Oh, by the way, I think my face is still here? I can feel it. Or it's maybe that phantom limb sort of thing, when you feel something you no longer have? You'll have to check for me."

You don't think you can do it yourself. For many, many reasons that you are not in the right mindspace to think about now (and preferably never will be because you absolutely do not want to think about this do not think about it do not).

"Okay… okay…" They bring their palms to their cheeks. There's a loud slap as they connect. Ha. Funny. You're so funny. "Can you walk?"

"Maybe?" Probably. Yes.

You can try!

...And immediately stumble.

Woops! Yet another thing to add to the list of things you can't do! Yay!

Stardust catches you, arms coming to hold your sides to steady your jittery form. Not quite what you want, but as long as you don't meet the very sharp floor, you'll take it. (you'll take whatever you can get, won't you? How greedy.)

(to prevent them from becoming something as horrifying as you are.)

"Are you sure you can walk?" They ask. So much fussing. Feels weird.

Focus comes in and out of you. You feel like you're floating. Between existence and non existence, unsure of which side of the line you want to stand.

"Yup. That there was just a dizzy spell. I'm fine."

He lets you go with some hesitance. Then holds one of your hands anyway (!!!).

They're cold.

Hands made of static. Pull, pull, pull at gloves you do not have.

Familiar.

Then, you...

(When did hate morph into affection?)

are being led back to the bed. You try to focus on the gentle touch of your Stardust, and not anything else, like how disturbed they seem to be (you did this it's your fault).

Stardust has to poke you with his other hand to get you back to reality. You slowly, slowly blink at him. Stay focused, Loop. You're here. You have to be here. Don't zone out.

"Bed. Lay down?"

…?

Oh! That's right. They like to sleep beside you instead of anyone else from their family, for some reason you've yet to uncover. The poor thing can't bear the thought of being alone. 

"Are you tired, Stardust? Do you want to sleep?"

Stardust keeps looking at you weirdly. He should stop. Or you might…

(Did you ever truly hate them?)

"No, I'm… worried about you."

They look tired anyway. Exhausted. Because of you. You're worrying him. Why do you keep doing this to them? Focus.

"You don't need to be, silly. I'm fine."

You get a glare that tells you he knows you're lying. Uh-oh! Caught! It seems you can't lie to your Stardust.

Don't tell them.

"Are you hurt?" The question confuses you, only because you're sort of out of it, still. "Shards." Oh yeah.

(you think of the cold pressure of a crooked shard against your neck and you think of blood and you think of stars in your body)

"No, I'm okay. All whole."

A pause. It seems that your Stardust, sweet as he is, is at a loss. You understand. You were never really that good with helping people in crisis, anyway.

"Okay… Lay down?" He repeats. "I'll keep you company."

Alright then. You nod, deciding to ignore the relief that his sweetness bring you. So you won't wonder if you can truly bring yourself to let go of his hand. Or if they'll…

"You need to sit down first, Loop." There is a nice buzz of touch between you and their fingers, slowly warming it up. It's nice. You like feeling things, when they're nice like this. Disgusting disgusting disgusting.

You don't want to let go.

So you hesitate.

And, your Stardust, patient, waits for you. Their hand is so cold.

You don't look at him. Though you do very well feel their gaze, searching, thinking. Until…

"…Here."

He gets closer.

You hold in your breath.

Their other hand touch your shoulder, slowly. He presses a little. Oh. Ohhhh.

You must be out of it still, dangling, because you let them guide you down, hands still joined.

Sitting. Bed. Comfy. Yep. Look at that, you know so many words!!! You're so smart!!!

...

......

Your Stardust sits with you a moment later.

"Are you tired?" Stardust asks again, maybe to keep you here. It sort of works.

Are you?

"…Yeah."

Their hand is squeezing yours. Fingers pressing down on each of your knuckles. Almost like a massage. It's pleasant.

"Lay down?"

You do so. Your Stardust does their very best to follow while not letting go of you. You're not sure if that's because they're sweet like that or if it's because you're using too much strength. Maybe both. He pulls the covers ontop of you and you (think of the way he squeezes your body and you think of their hand wrapped around yours, all night) sigh, letting your limbs finally relax.

It is bliss, for a moment.

"Loop?" Your Stardust calls out.

"Hmm?"

"Do you… want to talk about what just happened over there…?"

You scrunch up your face.

"No."

"Are you sure?" Their eye is full of concern and that's making you feel all sorts of ways. Stop. Stop it.

"I am!!"

What would you even say, anyway? That you believe this is his fault? That you thought about dying and that you couldn't do it because you're a coward, that for a single moment, even within all that swirling mass of despair inside of you, you thought that having a face meant you could be loved, cherished, or perhaps regain something long long lost? That you are glad that this isn't the case anymore, because now you won't have to go through the mortifying ordeal of telling their family of your sins (like you told them before, when the sky was breaking and the wails that you and their family heard in the distance could have very well been yours because they looked at you and they didn't recognize you they still don't recognize you)? That you think you are nothing and deserve to be nothing, yet you are scared to feel nothing? That you are sad because you love the Universe and you love the stars and it keeps making you its personal joke, its personal puppet to give and take away a face? That you resent him, because he keeps you here regardless of what you want, because he is better, he is loved, thus they deserve every single thing that you wish you had but can't have because you killed and buried your family?

…No. You know what that would do to their mind. Your Stardust doesn't deserve this. You are here to help them, not worry them (just this, nothing else nothing else nothing else you aren't good enough for anything else).

Besides… you just want to stay like this for a little while. Holding their hand and pretending to be made of something substantial, relishing the moment your brain is capable of ignoring its usual sweet little chime of warnings that resound inside it every time you indulge in your Stardust selfish, selfish desires.

So. You do just that.

Your Stardust does not seem very pleased with your response, staring at you from across the bed as if they have words stuck in their throat burn burn burning without a way out.

You squeeze their hand.

Silence.

Until...

"Can I talk to you instead, then? You don't have to answer if you don't want to. I just..." Feel like you need it. It's easy to guess what he's thinking because that was you before before before before when you woke up with hair tickling your face and

Stop it.

Anyway.

They're trying oh so very hard to find something to make you feel better (why?).

You… don't fight the feeling it brings you. Warm, sweet.

"Whatever you want, Stardust."

You want to be greedy. At least with this. You need at least one thing to prevent your fragile little mind from bursting out (you don't know how long you can keep doing this).

Your Stardust hums, still as if they have something more to say. Whatever it is, you don't get to guess it, because:

"Okay..." And then silence. You watch him hesitate, seek out words, roll them in their tongue that you want to rip out until they bleed to death, whoa what in blazes are you thinking about? "I talked with Mira." Oh. Yes. He sure did. You close your eyes, feeling their hand travel across yours. "Asked if she knew if people could just… change, suddenly. She said it's not possible, not like that." You figured. Not without… divine? Celestial? intervention. "But then again… people didn't think Time Craft was real, either."

Mm. You wish they weren't wearing their glove. Yeah. That's a better thought to have (because it's true oh stars it's true you really really want that oh no).

"I didn't wish for it. I can't imagine you did, either. So…" You long for them to hold you. Yet. "I think something else might be breaking."

Huh. It might.

Their hand is still in yours, a reassuring weight with reassuring presses, each sending a tingle down your spine (?). 

You let out a sigh. You could sleep like this. Warmth all around you, their hand in yours.

You're so tired.

So, so tired.

Stardust keeps talking.

"I want to ask Odile, later. She might know something to help. Maybe Isa…?"

This is nice.

"Loop? Are you sleeping?" They call out. You make a tiny noise that sounds far too strained. "'kay. Then... Can you answer me a question?"

Have you any other choice?

"Sure, Stardust. What do you need?"

"You… said you still feel your face, right?" Oh. You do not appreciate the reminder, but you do nod. "Can I see? I mean…" You hear them hold a breath. Hmm? You open your eyes to look, although sluggishly. Stardust looks... weird. Huh! "Uh. It's okay if you don't want me to. I just thought it might help. You're..." The thought doesn't finish and neither do you finish it for him. You know already.

Back to what's important: fascinating. Them, looking at you, a slightly darker shade painting their face, stammering as they realize the true scope of what they ask of you.

…What they're asking you.

Ever constant warnings try to resound inside, try to rouse what remains of your sanity. A march to nowhere.

You should not accept. You should not have done so many things. And yet.

After a stretched moment, you nod.

You are too broken to listen. You are weak. You are greedy. You want to have (something, anything to stave off this emptiness) at least this. You can, can't you? Please, Universe, do not take this away from you, not this, not this.

Stardust acts just as surprised as you expected them to, quite silly of them to do, in your humble and very questionable opinion. Perhaps he is surprised to see that you are so out of your mind that you'd accept. Or maybe it's none of that.

Either way, you have to let them let go of your hand, and not grumble at the loss. They adjust themself to hoist themself up a little on the bed, which would quickly become a tad too overwhelming too much too much too much for you, were you not so tired of stopping yourself from indulging.

Your Stardust looks so bright.

You stifle the urge to close your eyes again. You don't, because there is several somethings wrong with you, and…

You… want to see.

You want to know.

Stardust hand approaches you, slow in their tracks. It trembles.

Stars. You hate it. Just do it already. Come on.

It keeps getting closer. So, so slow. You don't even blink. You don't want to miss it. You need to know. Is anything of you still human?

Closer still. Centimeters away from either stopping at their tracks and hitting solid light, or breaching it to find a face you should not have.

Closer still.

Which one do you want it to be?

Before it can touch you, Stardust seems to remember something, and pauses to remove their glove with the other hand. Only then they touch you.

And, and, and…

and,

You still can't stop yourself from flinching when you feel them cup your cheek (?). You can't stop yourself from closing your eyes briefly, as a shudder wracks your entire body.

(You think of your Stardust holding you beneath you as you cry, cry, cry, saying so many words you couldn't possibly deserve, still don't, never will. You think of your Stardust holding you in the Clocktower, as soup stains your face. You think of your Housemaiden holding your face just like this, long ago. You think about how all that led to this is your fault.)

It feels… Nice? Wonderful? You don't know. The context is different. Are you allowed to...?

No. If you think too much about this you might just go insane, so you are not going to think about it. You will be normal. You…

Oh.

"Is this okay?" Your Stardust is looking at you so intensely. Worried. Because you are struck speechless, nothing else in your brain as you process what it is that you're seeing, feeling, doing. Because…

You can't see his hands anymore.

They are bathed in light.

Touching beyond it. Feels cold, and. and. Oh. You…

Should answer your Stardust. It might— it might not be real.

Bright, brilliant. He shines in all of their reactions.

They are patient as you take several moments to respond:

"…It is."

You are greedy. You are disgusting. You are horrible. You want them to hold you. You can't stop the quakes of your body. You want them to take everything, all of it away.

A nice contrast to your Stardust, who after your pathetic excuse of an answer, relaxes, slightly (he is still far too much like you to fully settle, not this quickly).

And you… feel strange. As fragile as this moment. As if you or it might come shattering any moment now, scatter beneath your feet to reflect your sickened desire to drink up whatever they offer you. As if one wrong sigh is going to scare them away and tear the buzz of contact between you.

Several moments pass just like this.

You, looking at your Stardust, breathing shallowly. Your Stardust, cupping your face.

Until…

Stardust finger moves.

You shiver. It is warm as it travels against what you feel might be a cheek (!), tracing the line until it stumbles against the base of a nose (!).

You forget how to breathe. Do you need to, now?

"I'm pretty sure this wasn't here before your change," their voice is a tiny little whisper that you strain to hear through the roaring of your heart (?). Your Stardust is endless curiosity, single eye focused on you. "Hold on."

Touch is gone from you as quick as it came. You don't need to mourn it for long, because your Stardust quickly places both of their hands back, gloveless.

It tingles.

Just as cold, biting your skin (?). You lean into it regardless.

Ahh…

There is a smile on your Stardust's face as their fingers move in tandem, their buzzing touch too much, too much, too much.

Not nearly enough.

"Jaw." They announce. "You have one."

So you do.

You haven't lost it. You really did feel a face, before. Huh. How do you feel about that?

The other hand travel carefully to trace the contours of a nose (!), up, then back, where they feel bags under your eyes (how? you sleep so much and you don't even have an excuse for doing so!), then further still to find lips (!!! water? Water!) (you wish they would part them to see if you have teeth) (…wait.).

"Mouth." Stardust whispers, two fingers still on your lips (!?), touch so light you barely feel it. You feel entranced. "Does it move when you talk?"

…Does it?

You…

try.

A noise tries to come out. You have the admission ready, the I don't know stuck just at the tip of your tongue, waiting to be formed. What comes out is a twitchy, frazzled choke that tries to imitate something it's not, following the light touch of your Stardust's fingers.

He stammers along with you. It's impossible to miss how his back straightens, ever so slightly, chest halting its usual routine to marvel at the fact that you do, indeed, make noises with a mouth you did not have five (or six or seven or so many more) minutes ago. Or maybe to marvel at the odd intimacy of this entire moment, or maybe to...

You don't think about it.

Your eyes flutter as Stardust continues their journey, now finding an ear (!), then coming behind it, just a second passing before they try a little scratch in the skin they find there.

Your heart (?) is beating so fast. Roaring, screaming. This is too much. Too much. Not enough. It is warm all over. What is wrong with him? (What is wrong with you?)

You still want more.

(What is it that you want, after all?)

Then they find your scalp (!), and give a few scratches that make you shake.

"Your hair is really fluffy."

Bright.

Your Stardust shines like the sun.

You are helpless to do or say anything in their hold. Trapped beneath their scrutiny, doomed to whatever they decide to give you. Everything that you don't deserve.

(You want)

The little tingles of pleasure soothes something deep within. Stars. You might just melt. All the while your Stardust stares.

They do it again.

(to be made of nothing but his loving touches, to have them hold you forever and ever, wrapped up in their brilliance, held as if you have meaning,)

You hold your lips shut and do not make any sort of noise. Then you press your cheek (!) to their other hand. You hear blood (?) in your ears. Breathe, Loop, breathe.

"Ear number two found." They say, and suddenly you realize your eyes have closed. Melting, melting. Your Stardust is so sweet. How can he? You could never be worthy of it. "It seems everything is here, beneath the light. How strange."

You...

(you want to be soothed as if you are Siffrin again,)

decide that you don't actually care. How can you? You're being held. His hands does not pull away, one still in your cheek, another buried into your hair, all underneath pale darkless light. They don't need to anymore, now that you both know, and yet here they are. So. It doesn't matter. Can't you enjoy this? Can't you have this? 

All that matters is the sweet hold your Stardust has, the warmth in their hands, the feeling that all of this rouses within you.

A fragile moment where your weak mind can feel... cherished.

You shouldn't. You ought to hate him instead, for continuing to give you things that you shouldn't get used to, to continue to be so greedy so selfish thinking only of themself and they cradle your face so sweetly, destroying all that you are, all that you ever hoped to be.

You can't anymore.

Because you want, and as long as he offers it, you will take it.

It doesn't matter. It is warm, it is nice, it is sweet, and with eyes closed you feel everything much more pointedly. Everything, everything.

(You want to be loved.)

You are floating in a sea of brilliant stars.

Chapter Text

Cradled by the hands of the Universe, you are etched anew.

A vessel crafted out of light, dust and everything that was ever wrong with you. Its gentle, colossal hands, make you to be but a tiny star just like the many others. You will shine with them. Brilliance ever constant, until you outlive your usefulness and is remade yet again, once again.

Thus, you are thrown back to the earth.

Okay so you regret literally everything you've ever said and done. Awesome!!!!!

First of all: WHY in the seven blazes have you ever done anything, ever?

You wake up before your Stardust, because of two very simple little things: you feel cold, and because you feel your hand being tugged around as your Stardust is being a menace that steals blankets while trying not to let go of you. That, and the light coming in from the windows is what makes your foggy brain truly wake up, chasing away whatever silly feeling that clouded your mind in favor of earning yourself a breakdown first thing in the morning, how cool and amazing and great!!

And unlike what you've been telling yourself, you are actually mortified to find the two of you like this, which doesn't even make any sense!!! The amount of times you fell asleep holding their hand is starting to escape you (much like a lot of other things), and it's not like this is any more mortifying than what happened the day before, which is arguably way way way worse than this, so, why??? One would think that this is okay, right? You already accepted that you're all wrong in the head and that you will keep doing this because you're selfish and whatnot. You're even thinking a little less before accepting your Stardust needy requests to hold your hand, for stars sake!!! So what's the problem? Why would you freak out about this, again? Some sort of delayed reaction? You don't even know!!!

You know so little that the mere act of not knowing becomes your new problem, bigger and bigger each time to match the void of your memories.

Or maybe it's the fact that your Stardust face is coated by the pale light of your star, which prompts you to bring your free (cold) hand to your face to touch it (it's there it's still there it's still there), which then kicks away the chain reaction of memories falling onto you until you're seriously considering willing the Universe into opening up a crack in the floor for you to fall into.

You do not want to think about this so early in the morning, not really, but, ahaha, since when have all of this been about you and what you wanted?

You remember your Stardust, hands warming up against your skin, tracing the features of a face you didn't and should not have, disappearing beneath the light that hides it. All the while he stares at you, eye full of curiosity, fascination, and several little emotions that you couldn't possibly begin to understand.

You remember those same emotions shifting into something else, when they find your lips, light contact that made you shiver then and is not any different when it is nothing but a memory, nor will it be any different five minutes from now when you are not freaking out nor will it attempt to ever be any different because truth is you'd love to keep this memory close to you forever and ever and ever stashed away in an inventory along with others that you wish you'd never forget.

You see it again: the light outlining their peaceful face as they settle with the blankets (what about you?!) clinging to your hand not unlike another day very similar to this one, and that makes you remember yet again once again what, exactly, happened yesterday.

A mess, that's what it was. An entire mess of catastrophic proportions, awful reactions in response to an awful occurrence. Thoughts that you don't want to have ignoring you to be pushed directly into the forefront of your mind, there for you to see. Never mind that you just woke up and you're still feeling sort of groggy, sort of nice, sort of sleepy, never mind that your Stardust is still sleeping and you should not wake them (you've already given him enough trouble).

And!!!

Stardust has basically stolen all of the blankets. They're sleeping curled up in a ball, blankets wrapped around them in a cocoon, almost entirely beneath them. While you're here in the cold, suffering, perishing, considering doing many horrible things to them in return, none that you would never actually carry out because you don't hate him that much (seems to be the contrary lately, actually, fun!!!).

And, well, you are not very sound of mind right now, haven't been for a while, so you do not think much about being petty and using your free hand to steal those blankets back. Because, yeah, sure, things might still suck, you might still be here, but if you are to be here, then you won't be here feeling cold outside of the dread inside of you, nope. If you end up regretting it or thinking your Stardust does not deserve to be bothered after dealing with your nonsense yesterday, well, problem for future, warmer you.

"Mnnn… nooo…" Ha! Serves them right, face scrunching up as you're the one settling in a cocoon of comfyness. Except… ruh-roh, they're opening their eyes. No!!! "Loop. Stop stealing my blankets."

"You stole them first." You grumble. It reminds you of the other day, Stardust grumbling adorably (!?) in their sleep as they suggest something far more worth of having an early morning breakdown over. …Ugh. Quiet, thoughts, quiet.

"I didn't…" There it is again, a cute little grumble as they bring your joined hands to rub at their eye, making you have no choice but to follow. "What time is it…"

"I dunno. Morning?"

Your sleepy Stardust does not seem to realize what they're doing. You see them bury their head on his pillow, muffling a noise of protest.

"No… no it's not."

You look back at the window, just to confirm that no, you're not going insane and did not imagine the sun rays trying to illuminate the inn room.

"Sorry to break it to you, silly Stardust, but it is."

There's another noise. You think it's something close to a drawn out "nooo…" or something.

Your Stardust moves to look at you. Their hair is so messy a bird could live in it and go piou piou all day. Makes you want to laugh a little.

"Did we really sleep for an entire day…?"

Oh yeah. Did you?

You shrug.

Stardust continues to make several noises of distress. You're curious, so you ask:

"Why not sleep more, then?"

"…Because we were going to hang out today." They sigh. "To explore the town and get supplies."

Oh! Yeah, that makes sense. You're supposed to be traveling and all that. Too many things happened that made you forget about that very important fact. Luckily for you, with your Stardust awake, you're getting distracted enough to not resume that breakdown from earlier.

"Woe is you." And distracted you let yourself be, snickering at the face they give you. "You're gonna have to keep being cold and socialize, Stardust. How terrible!"

"Wow..." they mutter. "No pity?"

"None whatsoever. Suffer."

"...Stars, you're so annoying." Indeed you are.

"Teehee, I am."

Stardust shifts, pulling a bit of the blankets to themself. Because you're feeling merciful, you let them.

Then there's silence. Them, just sighing, staring at you. You, restless, staring back, trying very hard not to let your brain go into dangerous territory of remembering how it felt to have his face close to yours, limbs tangled together— nope, nuh-uh, not right now!!!

Eventually…

"How are you feeling?"

Sigh. Of course you can't escape the question. Your Stardust's far too sweet.

You… shrug, once again.

"I'm fine."

Stardust squints their eye at you. Feels uncomfortable.

"Are you really?"

Ha! No.

You just try to remember how to smile for them.

"…You know, you can talk to me if you need to. I… I'd like to help."

Isn't he sweet?

Too sweet for something as rotten as you.

"I don't want to." For once, it's with sincerity that you answer them. You don't want to think about anything. Not a single thought, forever and ever.

"I know." Something strange happens: your Stardust squeeze your hand. That brings you to attention, snapping your eyes open (when did they close?) to stare at them. "But… I think we both need to, you know?"

…You know.

Hypocrisy is a well-known companion. This you can admit.

"You have your party to talk to, Stardust. A way better choice than me."

Like he's been doing. Like he should be doing.

"It's different." They insist. You let out a breath. Frustration, relief, who knows what it is. You're certainly not going to start dissecting that right now, maybe later. "And this isn't about me. It's about you."

You really, really want to laugh. Hilarious joke, great job Stardust.

You don't.

"…I really don't want to think about whatever happened yesterday, Stardust."

You don't think you can, not without doing something you'll regret, and you've been doing quite a lot of things you regret lately (a touch a punch a few scathing words rinse and repeat), add another to the pile and it might come crumbling down. Besides: why would you? Relive something that seems to have happened for no rhyme nor reason, only to get frustrated at what could've been? You're so tired of doing that.

Stardust sighs. Then they squeeze your hand again, an attempt at comforting you that, funnily enough, does help a little, if only for you. Still, you can see the frustration swirling about in Stardust's eye. Such as it is, you do nothing but rot the lives of others, even when you remain idle. Their life would be better if you weren't there.

Alas. You're still here, dancing at the whims of the Universe.

"Okay. I won't force you." Stardust says, after a moment. You hum. "But. You did tell me to talk more to my family. I'd like to see you doing more of that, too."

Yet again, you want to laugh.

Once again, you don't.

Instead, you say this:

"You're so silly, Stardust! In case you forgot, this isn't my family." No matter how similar they look, how sweet they are, no matter how much you want them to be "But, well, you do have a tedency of forgetting so many things. It's okay, I forgive you."

no matter how much you wish no matter how much you want no matter how much you regret nothing can ever change the fact that they're dead dead dead and buried dead and beneath the ground of another timeline because you were weak because you could never be better you could never squeeze the life out of him you could never be him.

Maybe that's why you got your face back momentarily. As a reminder of what (who) you can no longer be.

Haha.

You still find no pleasure in the way Stardust entire body recoils at your words, no pleasure in the hurt they exhibit.

"I know it isn't," oh, look at that. They sound exasperated. "I know it's not the same," Breathing hard. Distraught. Almost letting go of your hand. "But you can't keep bottling up all that you feel like this." You did that. "You know what happens." You did this. "I don't want it to happen again, Loop." Are you supposed to be proud of yourself? "I really don't."

"I don't either," what you feel isn't cold unnatural skin, it is flesh that beats and is warm, what that heart beating underneath your hands and those lightless eyes that tremble with so much fear tell you while you spew out your anger into words the only emotion and the only catharsis this husk of a body that you are can feel, only ever two emotions "But…" or should you say only ever one emotion because whatever it is that melts alongside your fear isn't anger anymore it's something different that scares you all the same "It doesn't seem like" what you want never matters "this is something we can control."

and those lightless eyes that tremble with such familiar fear such familiar affection and the hand that holds you and everything that you ever wished to be should

stop.

shut up

and take it.

"It could also not be." Why would it? The answer is never so simple, except when it were it was all so simple if only you could have seen it sooner. "I really just want to help you, Loop." nothing, nothing, there is nothing, there was always nothing, you’re made of nothing "I can't do that if you don't let me." you don't deserve this you don't you really really don't and yet "Let me help you."

…you are…

…so…

…tired…

There's another squeeze on your hand. Reality feels fuzzy. You blink away something that feels too close to tears on the corner of your eyes.

There is nothing to help here.

You swallow around a knot on your throat.

Not a shard nor blood just a star blinding your vision with promises that he can't possibly keep and a single desire (to be more than what you are)

You (the figure that is nothing but darkness) open your mouth…

"…Okay."

and spew out another thing you'll regret.

Stardust blinks. They seem confused for several seconds. Understandable. You are as well.

"Wait. Really?"

Funny. He still looks confused even after you nod. You don't have the energy to try and reassure him that yes, you mean it, because maybe you actually don't, maybe you're just saying things to get them to shut up (very likely (are you?)). Uncertain.

"Just… not now, okay?" Stardust squints their eye yet again. You still have some energy in you to be a little offended at this. "Besides. Don't you have that social thing you were moaning about? Hardly any time left for me in that busy schedule of yours."

Another sigh. "Later, then."

And there it is. Finality.

Though this feels more like a(nother) grave. Fun.

"Loop?"

You groan. Can't enjoy it for even a second, it seems.

"What is it, Stardust?"

"I know you said later, but… can I ask a related question?"

Sigh.

"Sure."

Hesitance. Hmm.

"Is… is your face still there?" Oh! Not as bad as you thought, actually. Though you'd prefer to keep not thinking of anything, forever and ever. Because the question calls forth doubt, and doubt comes with many other things you'd rather not feel at all.

"I… think so?" You checked, yes, but… See? That's exactly what you mean. Useless questioning that you won't stop doing. "I'm not sure."

Instead of giving voice to the many questions that want to scream at you, you opt to stare at your Stardust fretting.

"Do you… want me to check?"

You swallow around a lump in your throat (?).

Do you? No. Yes. Maybe. No. Absolutely not. No.

…but…

……

Would it… really be so bad?

"I…" Actually, yes, it would. It'd be worse. None of you are capable of being normal about this. There's no way you're going to be normal about this.

Yet, here comes the usual string of but, however, etc etc:

You're selfish, aren't you?

You're needy, aren't you?

You've done enough, didn't you?

What's so bad about getting just a little bit of touch, just to confirm…? You've done enough! Suffered enough! You can't take this anymore! So… so… Can't you be a little selfish?

…

……

Can't you?

…

You whisper an agreement.

Stardust nods, slowly. You can't seem to breathe, as a lovely repeat of the previous day start to unfold in front of your very eyes, somehow worse, as if there's something else that should embarrass you now. Which, ha, makes no sense, the only difference is that you're here. Fully.

Oh. Yeah. That's the problem, actually. Being here. Because now you're able to notice a lot of things, think clearly (?) on a lot of them, and even see that… Your stardust, he…

He looks so bright. Radiant.

Like a sun.

…

……

You close your eyes before your Stardust can approach, to try and chase away the feeling (this happened before it will keep happening unless you stop it). Doesn't work.

You… feel it, the warmth of their hand as it approaches.

His touch buzzes. Makes a violent quiver course through your whole body. Cradles your cheek, full of sweetness you do not deserve.

You were not insane.

You knew you weren't.

So you can't relish this as you are doing, pressing your cheek to their hand, sighing, can't really act like a cat that moves in to enjoy caresses when you know you weren't all that insane, and most certainly can't raise a previously limp hand to hold their wrist, not to pull them away, no, just to hold.

But you (he (why would he?)) do it anyway.

Stardust pauses. Utterly still.

You don't understand.

Why does he do this? This cruelty. You're broken beyond repair. Shards upon shards upon shards of something that lost its meaning so long ago in the throes of repetition. What is this? Why is this, this insistence? Does he want to fix what you (he's) broken? Some sort of heroic need to make themself feel better about the sad rotting corpse (?) you've become? Are you so out of your mind (yes) that you're willing to accept a scrap of affection much like a starving dog that will do anything for a single piece of meat?

Aren't you ashamed of yourself? Isn't he ashamed of themself? They must know what this does to you, what it does to them. What you want to do to them.

You open your eyes.

They're looking at you. Directly. Occasionally shifting between your probably foggy eyes to the hand that holds their wrist. And, despite your desire to feign ignorance, you can see the turmoil going on in the shade of their eye. The start of a spiral. You're getting familiar with that, actually. Hateful.

You don't understand how desire can still claw within.

No noises want to leave you, so you settle for the next best thing, and pull a little at their wrist. Beckoning them closer, before you let go.

And so you watch the fascinating ways his face shifts, how their body untenses, how their eye trembles, shoulders slumping again with silent relief.

You close your eyes again as they permit themself to caress your face, ever so gentle.

"It is here." Comes their voice, a strained little whisper.

You don't say anything.

"Hmm. Does that mean you can eat, now?"

You scrunch up your nose. Though you cannot deny the same curiosity. Can you…?

"I don't know."

What would it taste like, if you tried? Sweetness, ash, or cantaloupe? 

Stardust pauses.

"…Are you hungry?" Why the question? What face is he making to be blurting out such stupid questions? None of this should be important right now (even though your very being is screaming in indignation at this, stars stars stars what are you doing what is he doing what are you both on about oh stars oh boy oh no and perhaps not as important: can you really still eat?)

You're too curious, so you open your eyes again to see their expression. Genuinely puzzled.

Seeing them so close does something to you.

…Stars.

For an answer, you shrug.

You're always hungry.

Stardust tilts his head to the side. Cute! (You REALLY shouldn't be thinking this right now oh stars Loop are you insane?) Then, he says:

"Actually, I'm more worried over the possibility of you needing to."

Oh.

"Oh. Um. That's gonna be a problem, isn't it?"

You. Sort of hope the Universe has not thought about that. Because. You forgot. That's a thing people need to do. ...Woops?

You only do not get genuinely worried because Stardust hand is still traveling through your face, possibly to distract you. Palm gets replaced by fingers (again), as they go to trace everything that comprises it.

You do not know how you can hold your attention enough to hear their next question:

"I can always sneak food over to you… Or we could tell them you have a mouth for some reason, now…?"

"I'd rather not." Your answer comes a little too quickly. Also, weird, you can feel your jaw move now, because of how the movement displaces your Stardust fingers just a cinch. Huh!

"Why not?"

You could pretend to have a million of excuses for this, but the truth is embarrassingly simple: what if you lose it again the second you tell them? If you want more complicated, it's easy to provide: What if they know? What if they think there's something fishy with this, and you ruin the little trust of your nature that they've so graciously placed on you?

Or:

"Because I don't want to."

"...Fair. But... you do know we might have, if you need food, don't you?"

"We don't know that. Maybe I don't need to eat." Maybe you aren't even capable of tasting anything but ash and sweetness! Who knows?

"I'd rather not test it. It'll be worse if you faint from hunger or something."

You hate it when they're right. Should be illegal.

"Let's just… worry about that if it happens, okay?" Problem for future (?!?!?) Loop. Current Loop is… trying not to crumble over a hand (still?!?!) on your face.

"Fine." Speaking of… You notice how they avoid touching your lips. Fingers find the base of your nose, beside the nostrils. Then they poke you. "Boop."

HUH????????

????

Again,

HUH???

"What was that for?"

"Boopable nose." Stardust replies, simply.

What—

"I— hmmm…" You study their face. Stardust anticipates your plan and dodges your hand before you can boop them too. "Hey. That's cheating."

They smile.

"By the way!" Oh the little creature is using your own tactics against you. Awful, awful! Before you can enact revenge again, they settle back on their side of the bed. "Do you wanna come with? The hangout with Mira."

"Absolutely not." You will live in this room forever. It still is a pretty solid plan.

Stardust pouts.

"Why nooot?"

"Because." If he gets to get away with a non answer, then you can, too.

Stardust sticks their tongue out.

"Aw, then I guess I'll have to choose everything we're buying for you myself."

"Wha— there's no need to buy me things." You say, but your thoughts go back to an offer that the Housemaiden made.

Stardust ignores you. You try not to think about what just happened.

"I'll make sure to choose the most horrible, terrible things that will ruin your reputation forever. Like jester clothes. Or a silly store mascot costume."

Gasp!!!

"Don't you dare." He wouldn't. Would he?

You would.

...

Oh no.

"Then come with us so you can stop my evil plans."

Ugh. Alright. Fine. You'll leave the room, then.

"Fine. I'll come with, since you're so needy and can't spend a day without me in your immediate line of sight."

"If believing lies is what's going to get you to come with, then yeah, that's exactly it." What the— Stardust makes the most serious face you've ever seen. "I actually can't survive unless you're within five meters of me."

You wonder if that window can fit them.

"Don't push your luck."

Scratch all of the philosophical introspective questions and replace them with this: when did your Stardust get so annoying?

"Mhm." They sigh. "Maybe the others will join us for lunch, too."

Hmm.

"Is it only going to be the three of us?"

"I think so…?" They shrug. "Maybe not."

Which is to say: better get ready to be surrounded by the entire party. Because you doubt the Fighter will not try to come with if they're buying supplies, and if they're buying supplies, then the Kid will want to come too, and if everyone else is coming then the Researcher has no choice but to accompany before you all commit some sort of unintentional crime that she'd hate to be left out of.

So. Ugh. Ough. Eugh. Several noises of distress.

"Oh nooooo~" you say, very very dramatically. "I suddenly feel awful. I'm dying..." You fake a cough, badly, "I think…. there's no other choice… you'll have to go without me…"

Stardust does laugh at your awful terrible performance. It warms something within.

"It's too late. I'll die if you're not around, remember?"

"Augh." Unfortunately you do. "You're awful." They do not answer, just roll their eyes. "When do we need to get ready?"

Stardust shrugs. "Dunno. Probably should already be, but…" Yeah. Blankets comfy. Warm. If only you could just… sleep again. Avoid interaction altogether. Ugh.

Well, maybe getting out a bit will be good. To distract you of your current problems, at least. And… to acquire more distractions. You currently come very short of them. It's not like flaunting the star head is going to be a problem, since apparently nobody cares. It'll be a pain, but…

Better than being alone.

Chapter Text

"Ugh", you complain still. "I don't wanna get up." It's so cold. You're wrapped in an almost cocoon of warm, comfy fuzziness, if not for Stardust grabbing part of it for themself. How could you even think of leaving the bed when you were this comfy? No, you couldn't possibly! For that and several other reasons. You can think of so many that could justify why you shouldn't leave the bed.

"Me neither." Stardust sighs, but makes no movement to get up, so you also don't. Here's a better idea: sink into the pillows. Rot away in bed forever and ever. "If we don't get up soon, Mira will come check up on us."

Yep, she will. Or, worse yet: maybe someone else will, someone more likely to draw up conclusions from how cozy you two are right now, and you absolutely do not need any of that drama.

Still. Still!

You whine.

"Why do I have to go?" Honestly. How unfair of the entire world, specially past you, for agreeing to this.

Stardust makes a noise between a scoffs and a snort.

"...Because we're shopping for you?"

You pout, even if he can't see.

Silence falls, then. You don't have anything else to say. Mind frazzled as yours is, you doubt anything of worth could be said, even if you wanted to. And that's the thing right now. You don't want to say anything. Or do anything, for that matter.

Stardust shares your opinions, it seems. They, too, fall into silence, blinking slowly at you. It isn't long until you infer that his stare carries something else, words unsaid, plagued by the everlasting swirl of his insecurities. To sum it up: he has something to say. And is hoping the moment of lazy silence is enough not to betray this particular intention.

You can tell, though. You catch the subtle twitching of his fingers, seeking another. Can recognize the rigidness of their limbs, can easily imagine the way their tongue feels dry, throat constricts around nothing, burning, simmering, sizzling flesh. You've become a master at figuring out this particular shard of yourself, haven't you?

"Hey, Loop..." Stardust starts, a tiny little whisper. Sheepish, even. It… "Do you..."

feels familiar, now

doesn't it?

You know that look.

Uh-oh!!!

You throw the blankets to the side, and get up. Nope. Nope! Not dealing with that today. Last time was dangerous! If you give in again (and you know that you will for as long as they let you because you're selfish selfish selfish), you...

Nope. Nuh-uh!

A.

ny.

ways!~

Your antics are enough to make Stardust yelp with surprise.

"Okaaay, I'm up. You too, Stardust. Come on now~ Up you gooo!"

You pull the blankets away from them. It is quite hilarious to see how they react, practically screeching as the cold air hits their now unprotected form. They hug themself, shrinking into a ball of comically shivering Stardust. Not entirely drama; it is pretty chilly. Autumn is closing in fast. Fun.

"Loop!" They say.

"Teehee!" You put a hand in front of where your mouth should (is? No, no, do not think too much about the specifics, it is here, it is you felt it Stardust felt it he touched your face he ran his fingers through it it's here it's here and you won't you won't you won't won't won't think about it) be, and let this be enough of an answer.

It works, though! Stardust grumbles and mumbles, groans and utters all of the complaints in the cosmos as he does so, but they get up. They stare at you, and for a moment, you're unsure if that's simply because they're secretly plotting revenge, or if they know what you're doing.

You offer them a pleasant little smile.

And…

There's nothing for you to do but watch him, you suppose. You don't have a lot of things to call yours, so no baggage to shuffle, and the little things you do have are stashed away in Stardust's stuff, which feels… strange, to mess with, now. Not that you wouldn't, given the chance. Just. Maybe not now, when you're still raw from your little outburst, much more prone to have a similar, possibly worse outburst? Not when you're left wondering so many useless, silly things, that you're certain make zero sense at all? Yeah.

Watching them it is, then, your new distraction. Stardust is rummaging through their stuff in a mechanical fashion. A few moments later, they get up with two pieces of clothing in their hands, one in each.

"Sleeve or sleeveless shirt?" He asks. You have to hold yourself from not laughing, because other than the already mentioned difference, the clothes are identical. No patterns. Plain lightlessness.

Were you really like that? Devoid of any sense of identity.

You're not very successful in that endeavor. A chuckle escapes, and very quickly you have to bury it down, before it devolves into something wicked, dripping mania.

And if Stardust notices, you won't let them say anything. The only grace you'll allow yourself.

But, anyway. It's cold, so…

"Where's your cloak?"

Stardust raises a single eyebrow.

"Washing. Can't use it yet."

Ah. Boo.

"Then sleeveless."

"Won't you feel cold?" He tilts his head to the side. It's still adorable. And, yes, probably!

"I'll be stylish and that's all that matters." You lie, easily.

Stardust just looks utterly baffled.

"…I guess?"

It's a good thing he can't tell what you're doing sometimes as much as it's a bad thing, isn't it?

"You're the Craft Exhausted one here, not me!" He goes to protest, but you shush them quickly by snatching the shirt out of them. "You don't wanna catch a cold ontop of that, now do you, Stardust?"

A moment.

"…No." You watch them recoil into themself, tucking their chin into a raised shoulder. A strand of hair hides their face, but you can tell they're blushing. Stars, you would love to pinch their cheeks right about now, use a hand to tuck away that stray piece of hair just so you can gaze at that lovely— what what what what no no no stop stop stop don't go there don't "You don't need to do that because of me."

"What would your party say if I didn't take care of you, silly?" Why wouldn't they say anything? Why haven't they kicked you out yet? Why are you still— no. No. Think normal thoughts, Loop, normal thoughts! "Plus, we're going to buy clothes, aren't we? So if I get cold, I'll just wear one of those."

Are you… really gonna be able to do that? Be amongst a few or all of them, a smile that they can't see plastered on your face, and act as if no fundamental change had happened within you that neither you nor Stardust can understand? Sure, you've endured pretty nicely so far, you're (still) alive after all. But you

(were holding a shard to your neck and thinking about how anything is better than this empty meaningless existence of yours, made just to dance, again and again and again and if your hand trembles it is to touch your neck and see if it bleeds)

No. You're going to ban thinking anything at all at this rate, geez. None of these paths lead to anything remotely harmless, huh. You're a mess everyday of your life, today specially. Stars.

"Okay…" Stardust mumbles, finally looking at you again, their eyes narrowing slightly. "I'll go change, then."

"Okay! Have fun~"

A flick of their eyelashes suggest a question shaped more or less like "what's that supposed to mean", and there goes your Stardust, disappearing inside the bathroom, where you get to be alone for a few minutes.

You wave to him as they go, and do not think about the possibility of mirror shards still being in the floor, pointy and deadly.

You don't want to stare at that emptiness.

It doesn't matter what you want.

You're quite empty yourself.

What a fun little thing, to feel incomplete each and everyday, hm? To feel a deep need of being something, someone, worth of anything.

You never could be called a person, anyway, with barely any memories to account for, a collection of things so fundamental to a person. No experiences to share with others, no hope of ever knowing yourself or the world, shattered being with skin of a forgotten night sky.

There's no pieces of yourself anywhere, so you try to gather them out of the crumbs of others, always molding yourself to be someone else, so you can pretend to be something you're not, worthy of attention you'll never receive, worthy of a love you'll never feel ready to accept, pretending endlessly in hopes of becoming something, anything to justify this miserable existence. Pathetic, useless thing. You're not even alive, are you? Just a hindrance.

He'll always be better.

Your Stardust.

Let's not lie here; they're just as disgusting as you are, just as broken. Yet you somehow manage to be worse still, a pit of endless black tar of endless corridors of never ending emptiness.

You don't think your Stardust has many memories they want to forget.

You do.

Of all the recent memories you wish you could have forgotten, this one is taking the top spot.

It had been a somewhat hasty decision. Desperation were all you could feel as the world swayed and skipped about, dizziness clouding the little sliver of judgement you could offer. Desperation, and a deep, sense of dread, a wrongness that told you that nothing good could come out of this, if you simply stood by and watched the world break with a visceral shade that called out to ancient memories not meant to be remembered. It was probably the first time you wondered if you could puke from this nausea, the way that you are.

There was no time to wonder about your choices. You were never granted such a luxury.

So you made the familiar trek to the Clocktower, breathing fast, and let yourself be seen by someone that wasn't your Stardust for the first time in what felt like thousands and thousands of loops.

Their reaction was nothing like you would have expected.

Mira startled when she saw you, hands trembling to touch the hilt of an unfamiliar rapier strapped to her dress, hesitant for several bloated moments before she noticed you posed no threat. You should count yourself lucky that a trembly reaction was all that she did.

Fighter was confused. Pained. You didn't catch much of him and his expression— it hurt to see him, after what you've witnessed your Stardust do. His fearful expression still flashed on your mind whenever you blinked, somehow present through the loud roaring currently hammering away in your skull.

Bonnie was a mix of fearful with fascination, tear stained face just looking at you warily. Not so different from the norm, really.

Odile was who stepped in, putting herself in front of the others, sharp gaze piercing through you, as if she was considering if it'd be better to let you talk, or if it was better to craft a spell. She could be terrifying, when she wanted to be.

All of them looked at you so pointedly, so intently, and yet no matter how much you searched, there was not a glint of recognition to be found there.

It hurt.

It still hurts.

They didn't recognize you.

They didn't recognize you they didn't they didn't they didn't they couldn't why would they when they were nothing but pale imitations of people you loved when they were nothing but carcasses of the bodies you buried imitations of people not who you wanted them to be no matter how similar they were so similar they sounded the same they were talking to you asking you questions being worried showing so so so much love and yet they didn't recognize you no no no 

None of them knew.

Then again, what were you expecting out of this, exactly? For them to somehow know? For them to see the person hiding underneath the light, battered and bloody, find familiarity in the soft voice that trembled as you greeted them, even after everything you did, after all of the cruel ways you've hurt (manipulated, trapped, discarded) them all in favor of your own selfishness? For the Universe to show you some grace, give meaning to your suffering? 

it wasn't them it wasn't it wasn't it's not it can't be them 

No, of course they didn't. Things weren't that simple, when it comes to you. It could never be, now could it?

Not even your Stardust did.

(Stranger a stranger a stranger you are nothing but a stranger)

You weren't the same.

Crushed hope hurts regardless.

And, well, it wasn't about you. Not anymore.

What else could you do, but continue what you started? You guided them through the house, then. Slipped easily into the role you were given, until you no longer could bear to hear their voices as they approached your Stardust, all love and worry you wished so badly were directed to you instead.

Another thing that's becoming an habit is the way this memory flashes over your mind, worming its way into your dreams. Their faces, their reactions, seared into your mind.

You never wanted to know what they would look like, scared of you.

You don't want this memory.

You never wanted this you never wanted this you never wanted this you you you you

dare to dream?

Back to the stage with you!

The fun starts when you're both getting out of the room, off to an adventure exploring… whatever this city's called. You still don't really care to know, still not going to ask, because it doesn't matter. The problem of today is that you said things you shouldn't have said and done things you shouldn't have done, regrets over simply existing and whatnot, whatever, the usual. You've agreed to interact and interact you're going to do, with no way of strangling your past self for putting you into this situation unless you wanna redirect that violence to your Stardust, which you don't, not at the moment anyway. Back to your original point: Socializing. Yay…

You're soon to discover that apparently having a suicidal breakdown in the day before and then arbitrarily deciding that you can't (not by your own power) die yet is not a very good indicator that you're going to be normal and functional enough to be fully present in social situations, oh joy! As you're led to a food area, you're maybe wondering that perhaps you should have stayed alone in the inn room, simply wallowing in your own self pity and maybe playing with a glass shard or two, test if you really can die just to be free of… whatever this is.

You're not so lucky.

"Hi Siffrin, hi Loop!" It's the Housemaiden that greets and brings you back to reality, waving, her smile so bright and cheery despite it being so early in the morning. At least, you think it's morning.

You don't answer her. Not because you don't really want to (you don't), but because its the Kid next who practically shouts at your (newly?) acquired eardrums.

"FRIN!!!! FINALLY!" They come running to greet them, boots loud with each step. Kid looks like they're about to punch the crab out of Stardust, if not for the fact that they're still sick. "I thought you and Loop were gonna sleep forever!!!!"

Not this time, unfortunately!!!

"Nope, Bonbon, we're up." Stardust answers for the two of you. Good, you don't think you could communicate much in your current state, to be honest.

"GOOD!!!!"

"Are you feeling better, Loop?" Housemaiden asks. You immediately cringe. Ugh. Why does she have to be so sweet? Some people don't deserve that. You don't deserve that.

"Just peachy!" You answer her. "And you, dear Housemaiden?"

"Um, yes…"

Stardust stares at you. Whatever he implies, whatever the Housemaiden wants to tell you but won't, you. don't. care.

A second after, the Fighter speaks up:

"Aaanyway! Did you sleep well, Sif?" Though he doesn't seem to be addressing you. 

Ha.

"Mhm-hm. Were you waiting long?"

"Yes. Forever and ever. We were gonna leave without you." Kid. Their arms crossed, grumpy.

"No we weren't!!!" Housemaiden, receiving a "yes we were" from said mischievous child. You're not paying too much attention to Stardust, but maybe they've made some sort of pained face to elicit this tone. "Don't tease Siffrin too much, Bonnie. He's still sick, you know."

Which, of course, you can see the world starting to break again if this statement held even an inkling of truth. How lucky for you that it doesn't, hm?

Kid makes a very cute but grumbly face, all scrunched up, before speaking:

"Fine. But this better mean they have enough energy to hang out with us today!"

And isn't that adorable?

"I'm feeling fine today, Bonbon." Stardust smiles. You hear the strain in their voice. "Don't worry."

Kid scrutinizes him for a moment or two. Then:

"Fine!! It better be true!" That prompts another scolding or two of the others, as well as a few worried glances to their rogue friend.

You don't blame them; it is likely that the trip here in the first place wasn't exactly the reccomended course of action for Siffrin's situation, and that they might be hiding discomforts for fear of holding them back, a neat little addition to the list of inconveniences they've already placed on the party, selfish little thing. You might have to ask later.

"If you feel anything out of the ordinary, don't hesitate to tell us, Siffrin." Researcher warns, the only one voicing their concerns. Stardust makes a face, but agrees.

Stardust moves to sit down. You follow.

"No sitting yet, sleepy ones." Researcher, an arm halting their path. Not quite touching.

"Aw. Are we not gonna eat?"

It's the Kid that answers:

"No, because we have other plans for today! There's a Ka Buan restaurant nearby I want to try!!!"

"Ooh... It's been a while since I tried Ka Buan cuisine…" Other than onigiris, you'd guess. Does he even remember having anything else, from before the loops?

You certainly don't.

"You tried it before???" Kid.

"Uh… Yeah. But I don't remember what I had." There's your answer, you suppose. "I remember your onigiris, though."

Kid then passes through a quite hilarious mix of emotions. First, delight glinting in the dark of their eyes, a smile threatening to form for an absolute picture of happiness. Then, their face contorts, remembering that it doesn't mean that Stardust likes them, and even if they did, not after the loops, not anymore.

Stardust sees this, too.

The silence stretches.

You sigh.

"You should still eat a little something, Stardust." You poke them, watching him tremble more from surprise than anything. "It's been a little while since you had anything."

It takes them a moment to get out of a spiraling trance they've put themself in. He relaxes, blinking one, two, three times.

"Oh yeah, right. I forgot." He doesn't have to say anything else, because the revelation gets the attention of the Kid, who beams again, whatever discomfort due to social blunders gone from their little mind.

"Frin!!! What the crab!! How does someone forget to eat?!"

Stardust shrugs, a noise to signal they have no idea. Flustered. You poke them again, with a little more force this time.

"I— I don't know. I just wasn't very hungry?"

"That is a little bit weird..." Housemaiden agrees. Fighter and Researcher just look amused, one with a tiny smile.

"Do not worry, I am prepared for this." They dig into their pockets. "I have… a pear!"

"Thanks, Bonbon." Stardust takes it and immediately bites into it.

"Don't eat too fast." Your warning goes unheard. The pear is gone in second. They make pleading eye to the Kid.

"No!!! You can only have one, so you don't spoil your appeltite."

"Appetite." Cue Reseracher correction.

"Appetite." Cue Kid triumph.

Cue Stardust making the obvious joke here:

"Be careful, Bonbon, that almost sounded like a pun."

"Huh?"

Fighter picks up. Researcher groans. Housemaiden is a mix of both.

"I'll make sure not to spoil my apple-tite."

Then they get a punch from them. Ha!

"BAD. I will never make bad puns like you!!"

"Aw, why not?"

"Yeah, Bonbon, why not?" Fighter. "You could join the puns club. It'd be…" Oh no. "Pear-fect!"

Stardust snickers. The glee it sparks on the Fighter's face makes you want to slap them both. Ew. Gross couple behavior. Ew.

(It's not jealousy that burns inside you. It isn't.)

"NO. BAD!!!"

"TERRIBLE!"

Agreed on all accounts. You hold yourself from checking if the scowl you`re trying to make is there, still.

"Alright, kids, enough. We have our sleepy ones. Shall we move onto eating and our errands?"

Yep. That'd be nice.

"Oh!!! Yes!!!" Housemaiden. "We have so many places to go!!! I can't wait to show Loop the library!!!"

Yeah, and…

Wait.

Huh???

"Yes, we have to get supplies for Loop." Researcher, scanning for your reaction. It is this: you startle. Still dislike the idea greatly.

"There's no need for that…" You try, but…

"Nonsense!!!" Housemaiden. "You need things too, Loop! At least your own clothes! It's getting cold, too…"

"Stardust's clothes fit me fine." Now that you got over the initial insanity of it, they're actually pretty comfy. Just like yours were. And it's not like you can truly feel the cold.

"But don't you want to try some others?" Fighter now.

You look at your Stardust for salvation.

"You could try a dress."

That does not sound like salvation!

"I—" Suppose you could, yes, but… with that logic, there are so many things you could be doing. Like exploding the entire Universe, for example.

Housemaiden and Fighter eyes light up.

"You like dresses, Loop?" Housemaiden.

"What type?" Fighter.

"Uh… I…" Can you change your mind and go back to the room? Maybe live there forever after all? Stars!!!

"Kids." Researcher voice comes in, sharp and cutting. Scary… "Don't overwhelm them, please. You can ask your questions later."

Aha. Okay. Not salvation from where you were expecting, but you'll take it.

The rest of the conversation doesn't seem important, nor does it concern you, so. You focus on walking, following them around the city.

Disconcerting news: you've zoned out again. You come back to realize you're in the restaurant, seated as a waiter writes down everyone's order. Your Stardust is sitting beside you, pulling at the hem of your shirt. And you? You are blinking, trying to understand what is even going on.

It's a question, looks like.

"And you?" Waiter asks, smile plastered on their face, a bit too wide. "Have you decided what you want to order?"

Once again. Can you, if you tried? The other question, futile to even try: are you hungry? Always.

"Oh, don't worry about me. I'm fine." You wave a hand. The looks of everyone else feel like pinpricks on your back.

"Oh, are you sure?" They look surprised. "Nothing caught your eye?"

"Nope, absolutely nothing." The face they make suggests that they're wondering the absurd possibility of you being unable to. Ha. Would be funny if you cared. You just feel tired.

"Not hungry yet?" Your stomach coils. You shake your head. "Can I get you a glass of water, then?"

"Sure." The answer comes just to see if they'll leave you alone.

You wish you drank some before coming here. You're starting to forget its taste again.

Someone stops the Kid from asking the obvious question. You just smile, at them and the waiter.

You don't notice when they bring back your water.

When you inevitably come back again, you're feeling strange. There's an over familiar tug on your (chest) stomach. It takes a moment for you to identify it.

You're hungry.

It was easier to ignore, before, so now you suppose that some part of your brain must've flipped specifically to remind you that hey, you could do something about that eternal hunger now, if you wanted.

It doesn't matter what you want.

No one is looking at you. Stardust seems too busy to notice whatever distress you might have, busy having a conversation with the Housemaiden, laughing brightly at things you couldn't possibly understand.

A strange feeling bubbles up your throat, acidic on the tip of your tongue.

It's fine.

You never needed food before, it's unlikely that you do now. You're no stranger to hunger either, so. It's okay. There's more of the day to look forward to, still, more distractions so the burning in your stomach (?) can go ignored again.

You tap your finger on your thigh. One becomes two that becomes three that is dangerously close to a grip that might draw blood, so you stop, and look away, at patterns on the table. Then at your cup. Water untouched. A reflection trembles in it.

You look away.

You look at something else, then. The Researcher. See if anything in her expression reveals any feelings towards her home country, if a particular taste feels nostalgic at all, or maybe something as simple as seeing what's her favorite from the assortment of food. Since, you know, you've never cared to ask, along with countless other things. Some friend you are.

The Researcher remains as inscrutable as ever. Not a glance is spared to you.

That's fine, too.

You wonder if yours would, if she was here.

Chapter Text

(In your dreams you still had hope.)

Reality.

You feel like Stardust might have been talking or explaining things to you, all half-processed. Your head feels heavy, submerged in inky nothingness. Or more… close to exhaustion, you suppose? Sleepy, but not quite dangling on that particular edge yet. You're never quite sure how to explain the feeling of zoning away, that confusion, and little remnants of whatever you were feeling before time decided to escape from your starry-hands. Your best efforts to describe it pale in comparison to whatever reality is throwing onto you, truly.

Thing is: you're back. You're aware and thinking and feeling once again. And there's at least one good thing about this: you're no longer in said restaurant whose name you don't remember with foods you could(n't) taste. Bad (?) thing about this: Stardust. Their face is the first thing you see, worry coating their features. Along with something else you do not feel equipped to even try your hand at naming.

"Loop?" Stardust calls, slowing their pace to match the sag of yours. 

"Hmmm?" Your voice comes from the depths, a smile no one can see brightening up your face. Ha. Considering you have a face now, that's a pretty funny way to describe.

Are you going insane, maybe? You might. Considering it is so very confusing to you how that sentence evokes a cascade of different feelings, all of them so difficult to understand. Do you want to understand, or do you want to retreat forever into a deranged mockery of an existence, far, far away from here?

No time to find the answer.

"Are you okay?"

... 

Oh look, what a great question! Quite hilarious! Let's see what answers you have, shall we? Here's goes~

No.

No you aren't.

He should know.

"What do you think?" You don't wait for the response, nor do you think much about the frown you've caused. "Fine, Stardust. What is it?"

Pause. He gulps around nothing. 

"We're nearing one of the shops for you." Their voice comes quiet. "Are you… sure you're okay to do this?"

You're very tempted to repeat the first question. Very, very tempted. Maybe it'll help with the beginnings of fury boiling inside your gut over whatever in the blinding Universe your Stardust must be thinking to ever consider that you'd ever be okay with your existence. Maybe then you'll find your own answer to this very normal, very stupid little question of theirs.

Which is a long winded way to say: you don't know! You don't know anything! Not even the name of this stupid city, not even how you feel about things half the time, and let's not forget the fact that you've tried to blinding kill yourself a few hours earlier, tried and failed (?), so are you really in any position to make an accurate assessment of your state of mind? 

Haha. Of course not.

"Oh. Yeah, yep, okay. I'm fine." There's your response. You're all outside already. Might as well just… go with it. The sooner you do, the sooner it's over. Plus, you wouldn't want to ruin their already set plans that don't gravitate around you, would you? 

Maybe you're just selfish. 

Ha, no, no. You are. Terrible, terrible thing, you. Could never change your ways into a modicum of decency as a person. You should at least try to not be even worse than you're already being.

Anyway.

Stardust nods, silent as ever. You can see the words lodged in his throat. A question they want to ask that he already has an answer for. Ultimately, Stardust stays quiet, and there goes your chance to get out of this thing. Boo. 

Aaaand whatever distraction he could offer, of course. Stardust leaves you alone, but continues to walk by your side, leaving the party on their own. Which was never much of a problem to do anyway, they function pretty well without Stardust. Who do you think you are?

Well, since socializing is your new problem, you should probably focus on staying in the moment. Your presence will be required pretty soon, after all. And! Maybe figure out how to socialize like a normal person again? As much as you want to, you can't just not be here for this particular event and pretend none of it is about you, can't just disappear or die or whatever it is that should be happening for one such as you. Gotta show some hospitality and kindness here. Their party has nothing to do with your suffering, after all, nothing to do with you at all, and still, still they're here doing something nice instead of kicking you out, like they damn well should.

…

Actually…

Do you even know how to be social at all…? 

It. Um. It kinda feels like the answer to that is going to be a resounding no. It feels like months (days?) since you've actually had any meaningful conversation with anyone that wasn't your Stardust, so… Um.

Aha. Ahahah. Better not think about that either, Loop, lest you snap for real. You just might.

Okay!!! Okay. Alright. Next best thing then is… a distraction. So. You look over to the party, curious if anyone has any interesting conversation going on that could hold your attention, take you away from whatever feelings or lack thereof were brewing. There's banter happening here and there, the smile of the Fighter so contagious as he animatedly says something to the Housemaiden, and suddenly you can see the hallways of the House stretching impossibly long its lackluster light and the cold still radiance of frozen torches illuminating them both.

Except that it isn't. It isn't the House and they aren’t the same torches the air that touches you isn't cold gelid and suffocating the sun is shining outside and your steps are crunching gravel not echoing throughout the halls you're outside in a future that belongs to a different version of you you're not there anymore you're not you're not you're not you're fine you're fine you can breathe you need to breathe you need to…

You…

…

…

You're in the shop now, standing just a few steps away from a counter where a shopkeep animatedly talks with the little group of yours. Researcher and Kid are nowhere to be seen. Nor are any lightless rooms. All around you is unfamiliarity. 

You're fine, after all.

Aaaand there goes the focus you wanted to maintain, hah. So much for being decent and all that. Well. You're not very good with keeping yourself together these days after all, so what did you expect? You're made of fleeting, feeble memories, and will continue to live in them for as long as you live because that's all you have to base yourself in.

No. No. Not again. Not the time nor place for this! You're supposed to be normal. Normal! You… You're…

Where's your Stardust?

Beside you. Looking at you, something between curiosity and concern, the latter fading quickly as he realizes that you're with them. Looking at him is easier than taking in your surroundings, than listening to the store clerk continuing to talk, than listening to your thoughts, swirling and swirling and swirling, never ending. 

(You wish they were touching you now, arms locked between your waist, pressing you close to chase warmth, you wish they)

"Hi Loop." Stardust waves. The little smile could be called charming… if you didn't have the urge to strangle them for dragging you to this store in the first place. (There. That's more like it. The sort of feelings you should be having.)

You can be decent enough, however, and postpone the strangling for later.

(were holding your hand, grounding you into this terrible reality you've made.)

"…Hi." 

A question is stuck on their lips. One he already knows the answer to. 

"Isa wanted to talk to you." He says instead. "About your clothes."

Oh. Yes. You were doing that, right. That's right. Shopping for clothes, huh. Why did you agree to that anyway? Why do you do anything? 

Okay.

You're suddenly aware and present and susceptible to feeling, and with this awareness comes a very simple feeling: annoyance. You scrunch up your nose (to no one's knowledge but yourself) (to no one's pleasure but yourself) (for no one to see) (no one).

Here you are, then. There's no running now. Even if you wanted to. And you do. You really, really wish you could run. Disappear forever. Die. Etc etc.

Stardust is waiting for an answer. Worried look and all that. Ew. 

Well. Better get this over with!

You nod, slowly. It's all you seem to manage. Your head feels heavy, fuzzy. As if only part of you is present, the other somewhere far, far away, somewhere you'd like to be rather than facing the prospect of speaking with the Fighter.

Oh, stars. You're going to have to talk to him. 

Him, of all people.

It's your Stardust, after all. Is it any wonder that he's selfish and unthinking? They don't see your state, or if they do, they show no care before calling in the Fighter, who's beside the Housemaiden, talking with a shopkeeper nearby. 

The Fighter faces you.

You remember.

You never wanted to.

His hand in yours felt sweaty, that first time. He looked everywhere, eyes trembling, struggling to stay on you for too long.

His hands were so different from yours. Larger. Muscly. Heavier. Warm. He encompasses your form so easily. It is simple, but overwhelming.

His grip is so tight.

How many times did you stain those same hands with blood, just to feel him again?

"Soooo, Loop!" He says, ever so cheerful. "What kind of fabric would you like?" 

Your tongue feels like lead in your mouth. 

"Uh. I don't… know?"

"Cotton, hemp, wool…?" He offers, a bit of hope in his eyes. 

You've got nothing.

"I don't really know." You'd add some laugh to this, but. There's no strength to do so, currently. Stuck in a perpetual state of apathy and exhaustion. "You're the expert here, hm?"

That flusters him, weirdly enough. You… are not sure how to react to this information. That's not even something that should fluster him, even.

"Okay, that's not working… what if I rephrase?" He mumbles to himself. "Uh, what kind of clothes do you like to wear, usually?"

Ugh. Fine. He wants a show? You'll give him one.

"Hmmm…" You tap an imaginary chin in the air, near where yours is, if only you let your finger breach the light. (You wish it would. You wish it would pierce and hurt, draw blood. Maybe then you'd feel something.) "Other than my Stardust clothes, you mean?" 

You do not feign ignorance to the implications of what you've said contains. The Fighter has a blush on his cheeks. His breath hitches, so fast you could've missed it.

Disgusting.

"Why, I don't really know, Fighter. It's not like I have a very expensive wardrobe to choose from. Stardust’s tastes are so boring."

You ignore the glare you receive from them.

This creates a handful of expressions. Ultimately, Fighter settles on one:

"Okay. So do you like the ones you're wearing right now?"

You shrug.

"They're fine." 

"Right, right. If you see anything you want to try, go for it. I'll find some similar things for you!" You nod. Still not the end of this particular torture, apparently. "How about patterns, shades, etc? Any preference?"

"No."

So many options…! So much trouble! You… probably never really thought about it, did you? Hm.

Fighter nods. Looking somewhat troubled for a few moments before he actually moves. Stardust follows, so you do, too.

The Housemaiden makes an appearance shortly after. She seems excited. A feeling you do not share.

You think she asks you something. You think you answer something. You don't really know. Awareness comes and goes. If you feel anything out of the ordinary, you are not able to tell, not really. Which, really, it's good for you. 

You're so tired. 

Tired of it all.

Awareness comes back for a moment when the Housemaiden gives you something to hold, her smile bright enough to drag you out of your self- inflicted darkness.

(But it was a stupid hope. So, so painful.)

You're given so much stuff to try on. From plain and boring to gaudy and multishaded, and all that there is in between. You're sitting on a bench procured by the shopkeeper you still don't care to learn the name of, watching the pile of clothes increase with each visit of the two. Or, well, three. Stardust joins them. Looking far too pleased with their choices taken straight off the hangers.

You try not to look too closely at what they bring you.

It's a novel experience, to visit a clothes shop. To have options, once again.

You feel bad. Sure, currency isn't a problem; the party has more than enough to pay on your behalf, and they're probably not. You doubt anyone in Vaugarde would charge anything from the saviours of the country and the weird, shiny person that's not quite human anymore for anything they might desire. Still. Still!

You feel bad.

It's not like you did anything to help in the actual saving. You're so bad at your job that you needed another version of you to escape the loops, and even then it was a barely passable ordeal, world almost ending and all. You? You've done nothing but trail after them. You're a nuisance at best. And now here you are, being more of a nuisance, not even able to be fully present in the moment because, oh, I don't know, feelings and whatnot. Unfortunate that you can't control the way you feel about things. Truly horrible, in your opinion.

Funnier to think still is how you used to desire this exact kind of thing, when you were only one. After the loops, after the King, you and your party would go on more adventures, and maybe they'd like to accompany you on getting a change of wardrobe. You'd try something different, just to shake off the monotony of the loops (your own lack of taste). It's a mundanity you found yourself desiring much more pointedly. Exacerbated by the loops, you guess. You never did want to stop traveling with them, after all.

It's not the same, though.

You could pretend all you want, fall into a state of mind where ignorance of your situation reigns, and even still that wouldn't be enough to hold the illusion. This isn't them, this isn't your party, and you certainly never had a piece of yourself doing these very same things you wished your family would do for you, holding your hand at night until you fall asleep just for the comfort the mere action brings (a memory you don’t get to hold). A part of yourself would always know that you aren't here because of their will.

You're not the same, anymore.

Emptiness rings inside. Anything you could possibly desire gets lost in the infinite expanse of nothing that you are and feel right now. And, of course, the most important thing of all: 

This isn't for you. 

And you are stupid, disgusting, vile, to ever think that it could have been.

If you are here in a future after the loops, it isn't because of your own efforts. One of you gave up, and the other didn't. Guess who's the one deserving of experiencing such a novelty?

You don't move to try on any of the clothes from your pile.

Unfortunately for you, that does not stop the Housemaiden nor the Fighter from attempting to dress you up regardless. When did you ever get a choice, now?

She brings you a frilly dress. It is mostly darkless in shade, with a puffy skirt and equally puffy sleeves.

Huh.

When was the last time you even tried a dress like this? 

You don't remember. All you can remember is looking at Mira's wardrobe dresses, wishing to have the opportunity to try one, yet never indulging in the ones readily available. They were too cute for you, you reasoned, and there would never be a correct time to ask while the King was still a threat. You wondered then as you wonder now: what else did you wear, besides your cloak and hat? Did you even remember? 

At least you still remember the comfort of your cloak. It wasn't strange like this dress. It was nice. Familiar.

You wish you had it right now.

The current clothes start to feel suffocating, now. Yours and not. Familiar and unfamiliar.

(But you want it to be. You want to. You want to. You want to.)

(You want to feel normal again. You want to… to…)

"Are you gonna try it?" Stardust asks.

The Housemaiden is gone again, off to find you something else. Fighter, you have absolutely no idea. Great, no one to see you fail at summoning your voice from the depths.

"Maybe not right now."

Strangely enough, Stardust seems… disappointed?

"You should." They insist. "Or Mira is going to buy this entire pile." Stars, she would. And you would be absolutely powerless to stop her. "Did you see anything else you like?"

You haven't been paying attention. You're busy thinking of other, horrible things that you should absolutely not think about. And. You don't really want to. Not that that matters.

Digressing. This is looking strangely like…

"My, Stardust! If you want to see me in a cute dress, you can just ask~"

"Wha— No?!" Oooh, there's a lovely shade coating their cheeks. He sputters around his words pathetically. You snicker. "Stop making it weird."

"Hmmm, I don't know, sounds like you want to see me absolutely killing it with these…" You're sure you would. You'd look way better than them, of course.

Stardust grumbles and mumbles. Puffs his cheeks. Looks away. Adorable.

"I just want to make sure you'll like what you get."

Aw. Aw!!!

"Awww. That's so sweet of you, Stardust!" They grumble even more. You want to pinch their cheeks. "I trust you, though. If you say these are good, then they are!" You guess that's one of the benefits of being the same person. He would know your tastes. If they knew it themself, that is.

Stardust still frowns.

"Are you sure this isn't just an excuse to keep wearing my clothes?"

You scoff, though it sounds more like a dramatic gasp than anything. Still works.

"How presumptuous, Stardust. My world doesn't revolve around you."

He deadpans. Something cheeky invades their expression.

"I'm right, aren't I?"

Somewhat.

"Maybe." Stardust stares. You take great pleasure in the fact that now you can stick your tongue out, even if nobody but you will see it. "It's not my fault they're comfy."

"I don't mind sharing, but… You should still get your own."

"So you can steal from me? No, thank you."

Stardust rolls their eye. 

"But, seriously. Are you… okay?"

Ha! Guess.

"I'm fine~" If your silent audience guessed no, ding ding ding! You're an absolute mess. "How are you?"

"Fine."

They look like it, for once. Still a bit paler than you'd like, but eh.

"Yes, and?" You prompt. "No weird tiredness?" No wanting to disappear from the face of the earth, never to be found again? If the answers yes, then you're jealous.

"I mean. I'd love to nap right now, but, no, I'm fine."

Hmmm.

"Okay! That's good to know!"

Truly. You're happy that he's getting better. Something truly does warm up inside of you to know they're doing fine.

Undeniable that it also makes you a little bit bitter. Since, you know, you're so far from doing fine yourself.

"You, on the other hand…" Uh-oh!!! Who says that Stardust can clock in on your lies? No, no, since when have they—

Whatever it is they're gonna say, they stop themself, eye trailing off to look at something (someone) else.

"Loop!" It's the Housemaiden, sounding so cheery and happy to see you that you almost cringe at the terrible terrible feeling this invokes. "Here, look. What do you think?"

You have to take a moment to face her properly. And another to blink at whatever the item she presents this time, distant familiarity ringing from within through the fog of your memories.

It's… a pair of boots?

"Bwuh?" Is all you can say. Rather pathetic. Try again, Loop!

"Boots!" She exclaims, sounding quite happy with herself. "Very important piece of gear!! Trust me, you do not want to travel without at least one good pair of boots!"

"I, uh…" suppose she's right??? You. Don't know. You have absolutely no idea how to react. And your Stardust, of course, is of no help whatsoever. Ugh. "Yes? I suppose that's true…" It's not like you feel your feet very much, so…

"And!!!" Shes kind enough not to mention your awful reaction, good. "I think these would look great on you!"

They…

Ah. They probably would, wouldn't they?

They're normal enough boots, the style more inclined to its function than fashion, with a bit of heels that looks like something you'd wear yourself, back then. Sits around mid shade. There's a lot of little belts instead of laces, which you find troublesome, but, if it's for fashion, it's fine.

It 's pretty.

But! It's also a problem.

You have to try. Shoes aren't so easy to fix as some clothes that don't fit. If it's too tight, then you'll have to come back here to return it, which means even more socialization. Oh no.

…

Oh no.

The Housemaiden is looking at you expectantly. You… take it from her.

And stare at the pair of actually very nice shoes just so you don't have to look at her very expectant face. Because, ha, of course she's thinking the same thing. Of course she wouldn't want to inconvenience you with returning to the store just for boots.

"Those would look great with the dress," Stardust says. You consider the pros and cons of killing him right here and now for a total of three seconds that you also use to breathe in and out, deeply.

You wonder what is it that he thinks of you, to act selfishly like this.

Once again, you are reminded that your opinions doesn't matter. You should be used to it already.

The effect is immediate.

The Housemaiden beams.

"You're so right!!!" Her smile is beautiful.

Something churns inside of you.

"You should try it, Loop!!"

You don't want to.

It isn't yours.

You don't deserve it.

You cross your legs daintily. The fabric of your night pants uncomfortably scrape your skin with the movement.

The future that you wanted is twisted, warped. This is all wrong.

"Um… well, I don't know, Housemaiden."

"Oh! D-do you not like it…? I-I mean, it's fine if you don't, I can grab something else!!"

"Ahhh, no, no, it's not that!" You pull your hands in front of you before you ruin this further. Wrangle yourself into a persona that's full of smiles, cheery little thing. Your hate should never go towards her, not really. She did nothing wrong. "It's okay! You'll have to forgive a star for getting a little stage fright, haha…" The laugh comes awkward, strained. The panic that's slithering inside of you pauses along with this entire moment, where silence reigns for what could be either seconds or an eternity. You almost long for that. Suspended in eternity, trapped in a dream.

That, however, does not happen. No choice is offered but to witness as it all unfolds right in front of you.

The Housemaiden tenses. Her features scrunch up just a tad. You see her lips purse, her throat bobs around nothing, shoulders rising, a faint tiny little ding accompanying her always. She stares at you for a second, gauging your reaction, and then…

"O-oh! Of course!!! That's— that's perfectly normal and fine!!! To be nervous!!!"

You pity her, almost.

You wonder if you still have the capacity for that.

"It sure is!!!" You are very, very careful not to grip the boots with too much force. "Don't worry your pretty little head about me. I'll get over it pretty fast. I'm used to it, teehee!" Which you regret saying the second it comes out of your mouth. Yet another moment that you catch yourself thinking it's a shame you couldn't go back and redo some things, until you find the perfect iteration of this moment that won't make you look like a blinding fool. Fool that you are, you continue to dig your grave: "Give me a moment, okay?"

Whether your risible attempt served to soothe the Housemaiden or not, you won't get to know, because in record time you take the dress from the pile of clothes, and get up to find a stall to change. You feel their gazes follow you the entire time.

You close the door of the stall, and breathe.

…

…

…

It doesn't help.

Predictable, really. You're breaking so much that not even a simple breathing exercise can still the phantom thrumming of blood (?) inside of you. Does having a face also mean having a heart? You don't really know. You wish you could test right now. Stick your hands inside that star and see if there's a heart beating there, see if it's just as broken as you feel. But, ha, well, with your hands occupied touching items that feel like absolutely nothing against you, you can't.

You know what else you can't do right now? Breathing! Isn't that funny? Hilarious, even! Look at you. Can't even breathe properly. Pathetic little thing that thinks they can function normally with anyone else that isn't your Stardust. Horrible, disgusting thing that's wishing for things they can't can't can't have. Don't you know any better, Loop? Why are you freaking out over something so simple, so pathetic?

…

…

…

…

You close your eyes.

…

…

…

What are you doing, really? Humouring them like this? Have you lost yourself so much that you can't even stand for yourself in your desire not to do this?

Asking is pointless. You know that. Still, your tired mind tries and tries, screaming into your head so much that you wish you could back to the moments where only darkness permeated your surroundings.

Alas. You've never been so lucky, eh?

Anyway.

You open your eyes again.

It's cramped here. You have no way of telling how much time this particular outburst took from you, so you're just going to go with the route of getting it over with before someone can come asking for you. Like the Fighter or something. Wait, no, better not think about him!!! Or think at all!!! That always goes bad for you!!!

Come on now, Loop. Haven't you learned?

Okay. Okay. Hm. Maybe taking these off first will help you. Maybe then you'll feel like you can breathe properly again, rather than the short, shaky bursts coming out of your mouth. Haha.

Only one way to find out!!!!

They slide off easily.

You try not to look at yourself. Instead, you look at the dress.

It's pretty. Really cute, now that you take the time to really analyze it. Too cute for you, maybe. Do you still want to try…?

(You think of how you would react, if the moment were yours.)

Again, questions are meaningless. And you're getting tired of looking at your glowing self, so.

You put it on.

(How you'd grab at the fabric to feel it, the softness of it,)

It fits you perfectly, surprisingly.

(and how you'd try not to hyperanalyze the feelings that come with wearing anything that isn't your cloak,)

The skirt sits just a bit beneath your ankles, all frilly and cute. You have to smooth over the sleeves a bit, so they puff properly.

(anything that makes you feel human.)

There's no mirror here to look at yourself, which is a good thing, considering what you've done last time. You can still look at yourself a bit, though, can still marvel at the contrast that it creates between your starry skin and the soft, almost darkless fabric.

(You'd twirl and twirl around, laughing to yourself, a joke no one else can understand.)

It's…

It's nice.

…Oh. Huh.

You… don't quite know how you should react to that.

You… feel…

Pretty?

…No, no. That's not right. Not the right word at all! It's, um. Nice. You suppose??? Ugh!!! This is confusing!!!

Better not think about it.

Boots next. You decide not to comment on the embarassingly long time it takes for you to figure out how to do that, at all. Doesn't matter.

(Turns out you already have the answer.)

There's heels on them. That takes you off guard when you stand up proper. Maybe that's why the changing rooms are as small as they are? What's important is that you're not mking a fool of yourself nor meeting the floor, so yay yippie!!!

…

Ha.

They fit nicely.

…

Worst yet: it does really look nice with the dress. From what you can see and tell, at least. You think it's missing some thigh-high socks, but… it's nice.

…

(The things that are wrong with you are boundless. You are incapable of enjoying any attention you might receive, preferring to stew in your own self-pity instead. Praises, acts of generosity, genuine effort to smooth things over might as well be told to a brick wall, with how unwilling you are to accept anything you don't deem yourself worthy to receive. You can only content yourself with taking. You take the attention Stardust gives. You'd take their family, should the opportunity arise. You'd take their future. You'd kick and punch him over and over just to get exactly this, precisely this moment, except with one instead of two.)

(You want this moment to be yours.)