i'll take you where you've never been

[dustless]

The next time Pitch visits their house, it's empty.

And the next.

And the next.

And the next...


There's clearly been someone there, once in a while. The lawn's being taken care of, and if he notices, the books on the living room shelves are disappearing and reappearing within a few days.

Frisk hates that they didn't have enough time (irony, there) to leave a note. They try to ask Toriel and Asgore to, but they almost never leave the hospital in the first place; the rare times they do, they're too busy to remember, or stressed, or both. 

Their child is dying, and nobody is sure why. Organs shutting down and then restarting. They've had to go on blood filtration machines so many times when their kidneys messed up, and on breathing machines when their lungs seized, and something like the blood filtration machines when their pulse started failing for a while, and on countless nutritional IVs when their digestive system decided to pause.

No doctor, human or monster, knows what to do about it. And it's only a matter of time before their nervous system does the same thing, and there's no life support that will keep Frisk Frisk if their brain shuts off.

So they...wait. For something to happen. Anything.

And what happens is that exact scenario.

They feel like a puppet with cut strings, that they're falling down--

--and they wake up. 

Two weeks before.

Two weeks before they die again.


...This is not going to be fun.
 

Comments

[boogerman]

He thought nothing of them vanishing. Logically, it can't be that Toriel and Frisk decided he was too much--they'd simply not let him in, not move. They must have gone on some sort of vacation, who knows?

He only visits once in the two weeks, not hungry enough for attention to show up twice. He doesn't notice anything amiss, there's plenty for him to do in the world to keep him busy until...

Until.

Pitch is seemingly tossed back in time to a random moment, memories intact, the whole world and his body reset. Days and days this time, instead of the fifteen minutes or so the other time he experienced the weird rewind that comes with knowing Frisk and being a spirit...

Immediately he knows who's behind it, and worry sets in instead of anger. It means the child must have died, as they had in the alleyway. They're trying to get his attention, calling for help. Perhaps this is why he was fated to meet Frisk, to be the one who remembers and can change the future?

It takes him two nights to track Frisk down after he realizes, first night spent searching the city and the second night he just goes to however many monsters it takes asking where the child is. Which he should have done on the first night--it's strange to think he's able to ask, that monsters in this town actually hear him.

He snags some sunglasses so he isn't completely blind, and a blanket to tuck away in his shadow-storage in case he needs to protect himself from too much light, then it's off to the hospital. He even got the right room number, so it should be easy to find a shadow to spring out of close to Frisk...

[dustless]

The hospital bed itself has a shadow, of course, though not much of an under. And then all sorts of vases stuffed with flowers, and plush animals, and cards all casting surreal shapes on the floor and walls as well, all tagged with "get well soon" and similar sentiments.

Frisk doesn't notice him when he shows up. They're picking a flower apart, a dandelion that one monster kid sent, and staring blankly at the book on their lap. It's not a bad book, but...they just read it. It's not interesting enough to read again so quickly.

[boogerman]

Not the most crowded underbed he's hauled himself out of. He looks like he's pulling himself over a wall, clambering out of the darkness into a space he shouldn't be able to fit into, and then all the way out from under the bed proper. Really, it's bizarre, a man over six feet tall doesn't belong there. Even standing up, he's a blackness in a nice bright clean room.

"Frisk?" Here? Not dead yet?

[dustless]

They sit straight up and reflexively point the dandelion at him. They would've heard the door if they had another visitor, after all.

The monitor at their side picks up their increased pulse rate, and the filters speed up to match. Their liver's messed up, so all the blood in their system's being pumped through a tube and back through another. Technology's amazing these days.

"Pitch! I didn't...think...you'd be here..."

Surprise shifts to delight and immediately drops to guilt.

[boogerman]

He hauls up a thick black and white blanket from somewhere, wrapping it around himself. The light is making his skin crawl, and the blanket eases that a bit. The whole room is horribly blurry. He does hear the beeping of machines, all things he's heard before as he haunted hospitals in the past.

"You've been left alone?" No Toriel? No monster visitors?

etcetera

[dustless]

On the end of the first loop, Frisk dies the same day, except earlier. It had been nearly ten at night in their timezone, the first time. They don't even make it to noon.

The end of their second loop, again, earlier. The day earlier. And sometimes symptoms earlier. But they remember the order of things, so there are less close calls way too early.

And less pain. Frisk's usually good with that sort of thing, but weeks on end...too much for them.

The end of their third and fourth, they don't know what happens then firsthand, 'cause they just pass out when the second week's barely started and don't wake up before they die.

The fifth death, they're sick of the hospital, and they leave. Up and walk out of the hospital and stay in a park and then die alone, unfound, under a bush before nightfall. It hurts the most and they don't care at all.

At the start of the sixth loop, when they see Pitch again...they steeple their fingers together, like they've seen adults do when important things are going to be discussed, and they pose a question.

"What if I stayed dead?"

No emotion in their tone. No emotion on their face.

[boogerman]

He's starting to feel like this is hell, that someone out there (or up there, on the Moon), really has it in for him. But even Pitch knows he deserves torment. Payback for all that he's made others suffer in his long long long life.

Number six. He and Frisk have been living this for over a month. A month should not seem so long to an ancient thing of fear and darkness.

He's as cool and blank as Frisk, for he's very good at that. He is not human.

"You're not going to stay dead. I'll find a way."

[dustless]

Their words are clipped, slow, repeated. "What if. I stayed dead."

He looks horrible, usually. Maybe he doesn't know how much they can see. Or maybe he doesn't care anymore.

Frisk doesn't want to die. They don't want to leave everyone behind. But they can, they think. Just stop grasping at life one time, and they think they'd sink into the nothing-dark until finally, their SOUL would fade.

[boogerman]

"You would be missed." He does look horrible--on the inside. All of his nasty feelings have been hidden away, to fester. As usual. Life is agony, pain is living. "I'd rather you didn't, let alone how everyone else feels."

[dustless]

"...I know."

Fingers tap against each other, and their voice shifts to something less blank. As if that's why they'd asked in the first place. Just morbid curiosity, not a possibility for the future. "What would you do if I did, though?"

[boogerman]

The next night after Frisk's transformation, as promised, he shows up at Toriel's home. First in the shadows, to be sure he's not interrupting Frisk's time with their real family, and then solidly, tall, spooky, and healthier looking. He 'ate' well.

"Boo." he says, in lieu of a hello.

[dustless]

They are indeed alone--finally, mom's been with them and doting the whole day--in a tent made of blankets.

...Which is on the floor. For whatever reason.

They peek out. "Boo!" Beat. "What does 'boo' even mean?"

They're looking a little different. Frisk's not quite glowing like before, but they're more blue than jet black, somehow.

[boogerman]

A blanket fort. What's he supposed to do with that? He's too tall to fit in a child-sized blanket fort when he's not being a shadow, geez. How rude.

"I have no idea. Short for Boogeyman? It sounds like an owl? What else would you say? Woo-woo?" That... is a lot of questions. Hey, he doesn't know everything. Slang is odd.

[dustless]

Well, they're not inside of it for long. Not all the way. They wriggle their torso out and end up staring at him from the floor.

"Don't think I'd say anything. I'd scream. To scare people, I mean." Not as a silly greeting.

[boogerman]

"Or slam open the door." See, not trying to scare Frisk, really. That would be stupid and catch Toriel's attention, which may end up in a house burning down. "Drop a book, stomp around on the roof, throw a rock through the window, you could do anything, really. Any sort of loud noise."

[dustless]

Frisk's getting in control of their weird skin thing. There's a tiny bit of mood involved, but the thought of time--from the actual time of day to just things beginning or ending, all those are influences. They can go back to school, too, 'cause they can keep their skin the color of dawn, pretty close to what it used to be. Not quite, but they were grievously ill, so of course they're not going to look right. Everybody seems to buy it.

What's even better is that they can shift to the exact color of the night sky, minus stars and stuff, and that's helpful for camouflage. Camouflage to spy on the Sandman from their roof with a telescope Sans let them borrow, to see where his dreamsand is going, and maybe to see if they can spot all his years. It's harder from a distance, but they've been practicing, they're getting better.

They glance at the time on their cell phone before shoving it (and its tell-tale glowing screen) back into their pocket. Perfect. He should be showing up soon...

[boogerman]

Poor Sandman, almost as busy as Toothiana. If he feels like keeping his schedule, he'll only be in town for about five minutes. His work doesn't take long at all. He's also terrible with schedules, though, and he doesn't have to spread dreams everywhere, every night. If he's interrupted, it won't do any harm. In a sense, he has all the time in the world and is ridiculously busy at the same time.

Here he comes now, in a golden sand biplane, going to buzz right over Frisk. Hooray!

[dustless]

Hooray! Except ugh they didn't want to catch his attention, but he's going too fast for them to get a good solid look, so...

Just for a second, they let the color and light of dawn ripple over their skin. A flashing beacon. And then they go dark again, even their eyes, and aim the telescope at where they're pretty sure he is now.

[boogerman]

He turns the fake silent plane around and starts looping down towards the child... it dissolves when he's close enough to drop right onto the roof safely. Frisk the-new-spirit (who the Moon mentioned to him and only to him) signaled him, it must be something important? He gives a little salute to them, instead of a wave, and then forms a question mark ???

[dustless]

Frisk shuffles backwards. They did not expect him to be able to zero in on them so easily.

"Um...hi. Hello." Does he know them well enough to recognize them? They guess they're finding out now. "Sorry. Was just...checking something," they say, glancing him over, looking for his years and how many different ones there may be.

[boogerman]

A little under a month since Frisk's transformation and Pitch hasn't seen them face to face since the night after. Not once. Only some chatsy chatter about inane things, every few days. No contact.

It. Has. Not. Been. Fun.

Oh, how he wishes to sit in their living room and watch television with both people who live there... so much. It felt so good.

So, here he is, giving in. It's been long enough that maybe... he might be a little less unwelcome. Frisk won't mind, but he doesn't really want to have to hide in their room. Beggars can't be choosers though.

And that's where he ends up, showing up in Frisk's room unexpectedly, trusting them to be awake!

[dustless]

They've been suffering less, as they have other people to focus on, and their side project for him anyway, but that doesn't mean they haven't missed him. They haven't pressed for him to come back, though. Frisk isn't mean, and he's uncomfortable, and they won't cross boundaries unless it's really really important.

So they're not planning on him showing up at all. They're actually painting dark purple flowers all over their blander blue-ish walls, newspapers all laid out on the floor to catch drops. The petals are a little crooked, but they can fix those later.

[boogerman]

Nice, an awake Frisk all alone who hasn't noticed him yet. Hahaha. It's irresistible--manipulating his shadow to be longer and longer, creeping up the wall to overtake theirs and keep going to impossible height. Taller and darker and taller...

[dustless]

They lean closer, sticking out their tongue a little in concentration, trying to at least fill in the petals juuust right...

...why can't they see the wall well all of a sudden?

Frisk reacts instinctively the same moment the shadow clicks, whirling and brandishing their paint-covered brush like a sword.

[boogerman]

"Boo!"

Yes, that too had to be done. Everyone loves a BOO. Please don't get paint on his clothing.