Chapter 1: Home is Where...
Chapter Text
Sam shudders as he feels something ghost up his spine for a moment, trying to ignore the sensation as he cleans the dishes.
It had been happening for a few weeks now-
A month at the very least, although he wasn’t exactly sure when he first noticed it, just that now and again he’d feel something brush up against him, just the barest of sensations before it was gone, as quickly as it came.
He got the shivers, or that crawly sensation like a bug was on you occasionally, so, odd as it seemed, he’d just brushed it off as being something akin to that.
In his worst moments, alone in his apartment, head in his hands, sometimes, sometimes he’d hope to feel it again, that hot brush of air across his nape, the lingering sensation of fingers teasing down his arm.
… Was he really that pathetic, that lonely?
Probably.
It wasn’t as if he had the chance to go out much after losing his job. Sure, there was grocery shopping but…
Somehow, it felt as if the world had begun to shrink for him, the borders of where his life began and ended inching in, tighter and tighter, until all that was left was his apartment.
… He didn’t even really wander the complex much. Not anymore.
It was like all of his motivation, his desire to leave had just gone down the drain, along with his finances, constantly struggling to pay rent with the meagre allowance he had left.
So personal interactions with other people were very few and far between.
Sometimes, he’d curl up into a ball at night, and wake up to feel that phantom sensation, like something warm had pressed itself against his back, and he’d have to remind himself that it wasn’t real .
That he was completely, and utterly alone.
Time had passed, on and on, until the night he had that strange dream.
Somehow, it had given him the funny feeling that if he were to just climb those stairs, stretching up high into the sky, he would never feel alone again-
And then, of course, he had woken up, to the strange light peeking through the curtains, and that voice, Sybil , watching him through a hole in the wall he could have sworn hadn’t been there before.
With the arrival of the Visitor, he hadn’t had much time to dwell on those phantom touches as much, suddenly spending more and more time outside of his apartment than in it.
It had taken the end of the world to drive him out of his own isolated little bubble, and despite everything going on, he had somehow, bizarrely even, managed to make new friends.
Dan lay in a pile of his own clothes, critiquing the game the kids were playing, Hellen looming over the back of the couch to watch, the little rat thing he had adopted nestled into the crook of her arm, fast asleep.
His apartment had become so much more lively all of a sudden, and even with all the noise, the music blaring from the speakers in his stolen bedroom, Ernest’s loud snores, the kids arguing…
It felt so much more like a home to him now, more than it ever had before, a place he genuinely enjoyed returning to, not just for its safety but…
Because of his friends.
“… We ready to go soon?”
Hellen stared down at him, eyes shining oddly in the light as he finished up breakfast.
“Oh, yeah, lemme just-“
He hisses, and almost drops the plate he’s holding as something brushes up against his side, a few scraps of scrabbled egg dropping onto the floor.
The little rat is quick to perk up from its sleep, hopping down to lick the spilled food off of the floor, as Hellen grabs him and holds him steady.
“Easy.”
Her eyes shift a little under her mask, scanning him up and down.
“… what happened?”
“It’s nothing, I’m fine.”
He quickly reassures her.
Stupid .
Getting jumpy over something that’s just in his head.
“…”
She doesn’t look terribly convinced, but then again, it’s not like he can really tell what kind of face she’s making under there.
If she even has one.
…He’s not quite sure actually.
He’s not been brave enough to ask what’s under there.
“You do that a lot”.
She comments, and he’s surprised she’s even noticed.
… Had it really been that often?
It’s not as if he even really paid it much mind anymore, not when he had bigger things to worry about.
“I’m… just a bit jumpy being cooped up. I’ll be fine once we leave.”
She nods slowly, but he can feel her eyes on his back as he finishes cleaning up after himself, trying not to flinch or otherwise react to the unnerving sensation.
… it shows she cares, he supposes.
That, or she’s worried he’s going to be a liability during a fight.
Most likely the latter.
It’s not as if they could afford him doing something stupid like dropping a weapon during battle. Even with the team they had built up, some of the people they had encountered hit hard , or had crazy abilities.
There had been one too many times where he felt for sure that he was going to die, and as thrilling as it was, once the high wore off, all that was left was the fear.
“Let’s go.”
She announces, appearing suddenly over his shoulder, and go his credit, he barely even jumps this time, having slowly been conditioned into becoming used to the way she’d silently sneak up on you.
There were pros to living with a local maniac after all, who knew!
“Sure. Who else is coming?”
He flicks water off of his fingers, before reaching for the dish towel to dry his hand, looking around casually.
Leigh, as always looks ready to “wrestle”, pacing around next to the front door, while Papineau stands placidly as Leigh circles around him giggling to herself.
“… Oh.”
Yeah, he should have figured. Leigh is always gung ho about fighting, and Papineau takes “fighting the forces of chaos” pretty seriously himself.
The three of them made for an intense team sometimes, but he was grateful to have them on his side.
“Alright then, let’s get moving.”
Leigh is already scrabbling at the front door the moment he takes a step towards it, practically bolting out into the hallway, feet slapping against the ground, Papineau dutifully plodding behind, leaving him and Hellen to take up the rear.
He didn’t think too much of it, as they began to make their way towards the stairwell, meandering slowly.
He does notice however, the way she continues to keep her eyes on him, following closely behind, matching her steps to his.
It really was uncanny, just how well she could hide her presence when she wanted to.
Had she always been like that, even before the visitor…? Or was this a new change?
… Sometimes he couldn’t help but feel a little sad that he hadn’t met some of his roommates earlier.
Would they still have been able to become friends…?
It gnawed at him, the way he couldn’t possibly know . He had wasted the last few months of normalcy holed up in his apartment, missed the chance to enjoy the world as it was, before it was irrevocably changed beyond repair.
He had missed his last chance to live a normal life, and now all that was left was… this.
And it wasn’t pleasant.
He steps over the corpse of a witness gingerly, grimacing to himself.
He doesn’t like to think about how many monsters- no, people they’ve killed.
It doesn’t matter if they had gone insane, they had still been humans, even if they didn’t look it much anymore.
It troubled him, the way murder had become so natural to him, almost as natural as breathing, killing again and again all to survive.
He did a lot of nasty things to survive now.
Things that haunted him in the hours of the night, when he brushed his teeth, when he cooked or played games.
Sometimes he felt as if he had turned into every bit of monster as the people he killed- except, worse .
They at least had the excuse of their minds breaking under whatever it was they saw outside, minds unable to bear the weight of their new bodies, but Sam? Sam hadn’t looked.
And yet, he killed them anyway.
… Had he really needed to?
Even if they were hostile, he could have just… let them be. But he didn’t. Hadn’t.
And now corpses lined the hallways, reminding him of his actions.
A sudden hand on his shoulder almost makes him scream, but he bites down on his tongue.
Ah. Hellen.
“… I’m alright.”
He replies to her unasked question.
She doesn’t let go of his shoulder as they walk down the many flights of stairs, not until they reach the landlord's apartment, and by then, they’ve become too focused on just surviving the battleground inside to worry about much else…
———
All four of them look like they’ve been through war as they trundle back, basement key in hand, along with a much heavier wallet.
Even Leigh seems more subdued, but that’s to be expected really.
Bombs aren’t really her thing. Not personal enough.
Sam’s just glad that it’s over. It felt like they had been stuck in that maze like warzone for hours… and they probably had been.
The kids were bound to be hungry…
He hoped Dan or Ernest had at least put on some pizza for them while they were out.
He scans the hallway on their way back, cautious in case any new hostiles had crawled their way up to this floor… and spots that open, inviting doorway, blue paint scrawled alongside it offering… help.
He pauses.
They’d been too busy to investigate it before, struggling to navigate the first floor at the time and dealing with the Frederics…
But, hadn’t one of the astronomers mentioned who owned this apartment before…?
His brain still feels a bit too scrambled, ears still ringing from all the explosions and gunfire downstairs, but there was something they needed in here, he thought.
“Hey, uh, how about you go on ahead without me. There’s something I want to check out real quick.”
Leigh only giggles in response, while Papineau nods gravely, already disappearing through his front door, but Hellen lingers, staring quietly for a few seconds.
“It’ll only take a minute.”
He promises, giving her a tired smile.
If one thing from his days in customer service had proven useful, it was the ability to fake a grin.
She seems to believe it at least, and the door closes behind her, leaving Sam alone.
He stares again at the message, the little heart scrawled in blue.
… To be honest, it looked and felt like a trap.
But, the others were tired, and he figured, hey, it would be easier to outrun someone on his own if needed.
In and out. Simple.
So, he takes a deep breath, and walks inside.
It’s quiet inside-
Except no, it’s not, not at all.
There’s an odd shuffling, something skittering off in the darkness, or so he thinks.
More rats, he thinks, and tightens his grip on his bat.
Despite his initial plans to rush through, he explores slowly, cautiously, wary of anything that might happen to jump out at him, but, surprisingly, it’s completely empty, not a hostile in sight.
It’s a relief actually, after his experience on the ground floor.
However, he can’t help but notice the way the doors seem to creak open and shut after he enters a room, the shuffling that never seems to get closer or farther, always seeming to come from right behind him.
The moment he finds that crumpled note in the telescope room however, he knows he’s fucked up.
In and out.
He’s already hurrying out onto the main room, when he hears another strange sound, and more writing begins to form in front of his eyes, scrawled onto the floor, footprints appearing as a chair is shoved aside, leading to…
The light switch.
… Right. He wouldn’t be able to get a photo negative without turning the lights off.
Hadn’t Lyle told him that?
This is a trap. It’s so, so obviously a trap, but…
It’s a straight shot from the telescope room to the front door.
He’s outrun monsters before.
He can do it again.
In, and out.
Nice and quick, and then he’d never have to go in here again.
Simple.
So, he walks up, and flicks the switch.
This is the second time he realises he’s fucked up, hearing something pant behind him, the room changed and in disrepair, the way to the room he needs blocked off by a gaping hole in the floor.
Sam does what Sam does best.
He panics, and runs through the first opening he sees, hearing something scrambling after him as he squeezes through a gap in the wall, almost stopping dead at what lays beyond, red hunks of pulpy meat, flesh and bone littering the room like so much trash.
Still, he can hear it behind him, so he runs, and runs, barely registering the familiar layout as he circles back around, dodging enemies, and finally, finally grabs what he needs, small disc pressed firmly against the little ray of light beaming down from the telescope, careful to avert his eyes, no matter how much he feels it call to him, calls to him to look .
It’s only on the chase back, that it hits him, as he’s cornered by something crawling towards him, its spine twisted and gaping open like a hungry maw as it begins to speak.
“Ah. Here you are. I’m glad we finally meet.
Face to face, I mean.”
Despite its appearance, it sounds… lucid, rational even, and he begins to lower his weapon.
Perhaps this one is friendly, non hostile, like Jeanne, and the others he’s met already.
He could with a friendly face.
Something about it makes his skin prickle uncomfortably though, a sense of something about it being not quite right, not because of its appearance but something else about it, something that almost made it feel horribly familiar.
“I’ve been with you here for a weeks.
Ever since I was… remade.”
And oh, how that makes his heart sink, as finally, finally he looks around, and realises, oh, he realises, just where he is.
“I think sometimes you feel me.
You feel my presence.”
He takes a step back as it approaches, heart hammering in his chest.
No.
No no no-
That wasn’t… he had been imagining those. They hadn’t been real.
“You feel my touch. My breath in your ear.
My back brush against your legs.”
It continues to crawl closer and closer, and he feels frozen, as its hands begin to reach for him.
“ Do you like it? When my spine tickles you?”
He can feel its hot breath against his face now, it’s wet, sinewy hand caressing his cheek perversely.
“When you sleep, I like to crawl in with you.
I hold you close. ”
He wants to scream as it begins to wrap arms around him in a horrid imitation of an embrace, and oh, he recognises this warmth, this sensation, hates how familiar it has become, hates the dawning realisation that all those times he thought he was alone, he wasn’t , like watching back a home movie only to discover an intruder hiding in the background.
Bile begins to rise in the back of his throat.
“Think of me as your guardian angel.”
A claw dances teasingly down his face, pointed and sharp.
“Maybe if I remake you like me, we can be together, for real.
Wouldn’t that be nice.”
It begins to dig in lightly, just enough to cut into skin, and he can feel hot blood begin to trickle down.
“We would live here instead. Not in your place, where the light is too bright.”
And oh, it sounds so soothing, so self assured, as if it knew that surely he’d want this, and despite the fact that it could speak so calmly, he knew that its mind had become just as twisted as the rest, perverted into a desire to help the way it had been.
He doesn’t know what hes so scared of. Why he can’t move a single muscle to resist.
Hadn’t he seen far worse? Why was this his breaking point?
He tries to weakly push it off of him, but that only makes the creature chuckle.
“It’s a bit different, but you’ll get used to it.”
It reassures him.
“Once you see what it’s really like.”
It’s claws dance over his chest, digging in deeper and deeper, enough to hurt.
“ Home is where the heart is.”
He can feel its claws pierce his skin, and still, he feels so powerless, so, so afraid , arm pinned to his side as it leans against his side, arms wrapped around him, hot breath burning his skin, as it prepares to fulfil its promise of remaking him.
He closes his eyes, and prays it’ll be quick-
Only to hear a horrid screech .
And it’s not his.
His arm is grabbed, and he feels himself be dragged along, opening his eyes to see Hellen, blood staining her cleaver, hauling him out of that cursed place as quickly as possible, the enraged screams of that horrible creature echoing behind them.
She doesn’t stop until she's gotten him back home, setting him down firmly on the couch, as the others fuss over the state he’s in, fear and worry on their faces, as Hellen grabs a first aid kit and begins to attend to the many new cuts and scrapes he gained on his little excursion.
No one seems to notice at first, just how quiet, just how pale he is, too focused on his physical injuries, not until Dan, trying to be helpful, attempts to place a friendly hand on his shoulder.
In the resulting panic, Sam throws himself off of the couch, and onto the floor, scrambling backwards, breathing harshly, Dan himself on the floor, nursing a bloodied nose.
“Hey! What gives!”
Sam doesn’t hear him though, heart racing too fast, thoughts swirling in his mind.
All this time.
All this time .
He didn’t feel safe here anymore.
His apartment had become just as dangerous, just as unpredictable as the rest of the complex had.
And it had become so long, long before the visitor even arrived.
He swats away an outstretched hand, someone trying to help him up, and practically crawls into the bathroom to retch, ignoring the hushed murmurs in the other room.
A few roaches scuttle around, and gather near his feet, little eyes peering up at him in concern after he’s done, slumped over the toilet.
“Sam.”
He tenses as he hears Hellen, mouth going dry.
She approaches slowly, footsteps heavy against the bathroom tiles, before she crouches next to him, and offers him a glass of water.
“Drink.”
“O… oh. Thanks.”
He’s careful to avoid brushing against her fingers as he takes it from her, arm shaking and trembling.
She has the curtesy to wait for him to take a few ice cold gulps before asking him.
“What happened.”
He tenses, and he wonders just how much she had seen, how much she had heard before intervening.
“It was-“
“Don’t say it’s nothing.”
She interrupts, predicting exactly what he was going to say.
He winces.
“I just… I panicked, that’s all.”
She stares him down steadily as he continues.
“You know how hard today was. I just… over estimated how much I could handle alone, didn’t realise how bad it was in there, got in over my head.”
He sets the glass down quickly, before his shaking hands can drop it and cause yet another scene.
“… I’ll be fine after I get some rest.”
He doesn’t look her in the eyes as he says it, staring down at his reflection in what’s left inside the glass instead.
She nods slowly and reaches for his shoulder-
Before pausing, and withdrawing her hand without touching him.
“… Couch is ready. Go sleep.”
In all honesty, he doesn’t really feel tired, his head is still racing with too many spiralling worries, but he’s dug himself into a hole so
Now he’s got to commit to digging deep.
The others seem to be trying not to stare at him as they walk out, though the kids at least seem to be distracted by Ernest telling them stories about his days hitching hiking.
Small mercies.
The kids shouldn’t have to worry about him. Not with everything else going on.
Can’t do much about the others though. They aren’t so easily distracted, so he hopes that they’ll just… forget this entire affair and move on.
Hellen keeps standing over him, as he shuffles onto the couch, watching him lay on his side, turned away from the rest of the room, face hidden by the back of the couch.
He’s not so sure how convincing he can fake being alseep, so hopefully she’ll get bored before it comes to that.
The snores of the others begin to fill the room, the kids nestled up in their sleeping bags, Dan on his pile of clothes, Ernest huddled up with his back against the wall, Papineau on his back, arms at his side, sleeping like a corpse.
There’s a comfort to it at least, even if it does drive him crazy most nights, enough so that he does eventually feel his muscles relax, exhaustion finally hitting in, brain going blank as he finally, finally drifts off into sleep.
He doesn’t dream, and for that, he’s grateful, sinking into a dark void, thoughts melting away into nothing, peace and quiet at last inside his buzzing brain.
He couldn’t say how long he slept, just that when he awoke, the apartment was still dark, vision blurry as he blinked the bleariness in his eyes away.
He didn’t want to get up just yet, comfortable and warm, still too tired to even think about moving from the spot he’s worn into the couch cushions.
He nuzzles his face against his pillow sleepily, grimacing as he feels a bit of drying drool against his cheek. Urgh.
Gross.
Despite that, he can feel his eyes flutter, just about ready to drift off back into sleep for just a little longer…
Until he feels a hard lump of warmth , nestled against his back, burning hot against the skin of his back, even through the layers of clothing.
He almost chokes, panic gripping him, as he remembers, he remembers that they hadn’t killed it.
Hellen hadn’t known what it was up to, what it told him, what it promised , she had been too focused on getting him back home to safety.
So she didn’t know how it had invaded his home.
She didn’t know.
But he did.
He could have told her.
Asked her and the others to kill it for him.
But he hadn’t.
Why?
Why hadn’t he ?
He could feel it now, breathing against his neck, too many limbs wrapped around him in a mock loving embrace, claws winding through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp in a sickenly affectionate display.
…Could it hurt him like this?
The other occupants hadn’t seem able to do anything in the light-
Why else would that shambling mass of hands and telescopes have waited otherwise? Been unable to follow him back?
But, he didn’t know that for certain.
Maybe they had just been toying with him.
Perhaps it was more fun, to see the fear on their victims face first, than tear apart an unsuspecting victim.
So, when exactly, would he feel those loving touches turn violent once more?
Would it remake him, as it had promised, right here and now, knowing that no one would know, peel away his skin like it’s had been, twist his arms and legs and bones and viscera into something else , a mockery of the human body?
He could feel his breath begin to pick up, heart hammering in his chest.
Could it feel that too?
It must have, because he could feel something creep down his chest, tracing circles around his heart.
Home is where the heart is .
It’s then, and only then, he manages to force his body to react, throwing himself off the couch with a pathetic scream, arm and legs flailing as he falls the short distance onto the carpet- only to instead, be caught by Hellen.
He tenses immediately, but she lifts him with ease, scanning the sofa for any sign of what made him panic so, before finally turning her gaze onto him once more.
From the bedroom, Xaria and Monty yell for him to “keep it down”, glaring through a crack in the door, while the others startle awake, all of them staring at the source of alarm.
Which is him of course.
“Hh… Mister Sam…?”
The kids are rubbing their eyes (or teeth, in Joels’s case) sitting up and staring at him, the little rat child scuttling over to climb Hellen like a tree to peer down at him from her shoulder, squeaking and babbling softly, nose twitching, staring between him and the couch.
It seems to catch the scent of something , and begins to arch its back, hissing at the couch, double sets of teeth bared, doing its best to look ferocious.
Could… could it tell that it was there?
The thought makes him shudder.
What if that monster tried to hurt it?
Hellens eyes harden as the rat child leaps off to stalk around the apartment, following an invisible threat.
“The truth. Now .”
He shrinks a little in her arms, unable to do much else.
“It’s… it’s not… I just… it was a nightmare-“
He babbles, unconvincing even to himself.
Why can’t he just be honest?
Why does the idea of telling them what that creature had done fill him with such dread and fear?
“It’s nothing worse than we’ve already seen before, it’s not even that bad really.”
He keeps talking, unable to stop, and maybe that’s it.
Maybe it’s shame, knowing just how much this incident has unwound him, in comparison to everything else they’ve encountered, everything they’d gone through.
Joel lost his entire family, he fed his own arm to a hole in the wall, many of his friends have mutated, seen the horrors that lurk outside, the people they’ve had to kill, bodies ripped apart, so much gore and viscera, but this, this is what breaks him?
How utterly pathetic .
“There’s…. There’s been a monster here the whole time.”
He finally admits.
“It’s… it’s… it’s been in the apartment for weeks… a month, maybe more.”
Hellen doesn’t try to interrupt him this time, listening carefully.
“It’s been watching me and it’s been…”
He bites his tongue, unable to finish that sentence, something akin to a stone lodging in this throat at the very thought.
He feels sick again.
“… I finally met it, in that other version of this apartment.”
He whispers.
“It spoke to me. Told me… things. It wanted me to stay.”
He drops his head into his hand, unable to stare the others in the face after the confession, skin crawling where it had touched him, unable to forget the sensation.
Hellen is silent, and he feels her grip on him tighten minutely before relaxing, and setting him down.
“Wait here”.
She stomps off the huddle with the others, who had been oh so obviously listening in, and begins muttering something too low for him to hear.
Whatever it is she said, the others seem to get the idea quickly, gabbing pillows and cushions from the sofa and piling them against the wall.
Even Xaria, grumpy as ever, tosses a blanket from their stolen room for them to use before slamming the door shut, the kids, left out of the loop happily join in, dragging their sleeping bags over.
Hellen sticks a thumb out at the result.
“Go sit down.”
“I-“
“Sit.”
He has no choice but to meekly obey, sitting with his back against the wall.
… Huh. He think he might understand why Ernest always slept with his back to wall now.
And speaking of Ernest, he’s quick to follow, sitting directly in front of him, along with Dan, Papineau, Leigh and-
Oh .
They’re forming a wall, he realises, and he feels a flush of embarrassment flood his face.
Well. That’s… a little bit insulting actually.
But also kind of sweet?
He’s not sure how to feel about it.
The kids at least are just treating it like an extra special sleepover, so at least he doesn’t need to worry about them.
The rat child scurries back, and crawls into Sam’s lap to snuggle into his ratty sweater, Sophie and Joel already starting to drift off back to sleep beside him, unable to stay awake long while it’s still so early in the morning.
He’s too preoccupied with everyone else to even notice a significant absence, their group talking amongst themselves into the early hours of the morning, until gradually, tiredness overtakes him once more, and he falls asleep where he is, safe in the knowledge that at least for now, it can no longer get to him.
——
It’s about noon when he wakes, the others still standing guard, occupying themselves with a game of cards… which, judging from how Leigh keeps eating them, isn’t going so well.
“Oh, Morning”.
They’re casual enough as he stirs, not bringing up all of… that , though by the way some of them shift and avert their eyes, it’s clear that they’re still curious, barely holding themselves back from asking just what exactly happened.
Joel tugs on his sleeve, and whispers in the way children do, where everyone around them can still hear what they’re saying.
“Hhh… I get nightmares too sometimes.
You can borrow Mr Fuzzy if y’ want.”
“… Thanks Joel, but that’s ok buddy.”
Someone sniggers under their breath but coughs when he turns to look.
He rolls his eyes, and goes to stand, but is prevented from leaving his spot as Leigh throws her cards in the air, and sprawls herself over him like he’s a particularly lumpy bean bag chair.
He curses, and attempts to wrestle her off him, the rat child squeaking and nipping at her as it’s trapped between them, to no avail.
Leigh just giggles, and flicks his forehead with two fingers, Sam just about ready to curse at her to get off , until he’s distracted by the sound of the door opening.
They all go quiet, watching as Hellen emerges from the hallway, hands bloody, coveralls coated with gore, cleaver stained a dark crimson.
… when exactly had she left…? He hadn’t noticed she was even missing.
She looks over at the group, and nods slightly, before stomping over to the bathroom.
He’s not sure if she had just gotten bored, or what, but Leigh gets off of him then, scrambling over to curl up on the top of the couch like a cat, the others beginning to scatter, Dan clapping him on the back with a grin before he goes to show the kids how a “real” gamer plays Jumpman, much to their disgust.
… Apparently, things have gone back to normal, and he’s grateful for it, still embarrassed by all the attention that had been on him.
He definitely wouldn’t make a good streamer, that was sure.
Not like he could compete with Dan’s viewer count anyways.
They’re all long since overdue for a meal, so he stretches, and ambles over to cook whatever they have in the fridge, carefully avoiding stepping on the roaches, who are acting especially clingy today, following him around the room.
Well, he doesn’t mind.
Papineau is definitely giving them one hell of a murderous glare though.
Can't win them all.
He can hear the shower running as he rummages through the fridge, and he glances over at the locked door.
She doesn’t end up coming out until after everyone’s seated, sharing a large pizza
between them.
She sits down beside him, and doesn't say a word as they eat.
“I’ll do the dishes”
And before he can even open his mouth to object, she’s already grabbed the plates off of the table to carry over to the sink.
Well, not like he could have stopped her anyway.
… Where had she gone anyway…?
A part of him knows of course, but that doesn’t mean he wants to address it, think more about the entire incident .
He… just wants things to go back to feeling semi normal again.
Or as normal as things can get, now that the world has ended.
In any case, over the next few days, he never feels that phantom touch again.
And that’s all he can ever ask for.
Chapter 2: ...The heart is
Summary:
an alternative ending.
Notes:
Big warning for body horror here folks! stay safe.
Chapter Text
“ Home is where the heart is .”
He can feel its claws pierce his skin, and still, he feels so powerless, so, so afraid , arm pinned to his side as it leans against his side, arms wrapped around him, hot breath burning his skin, as it prepares to fulfil its promise of remaking him.
He closes his eyes, hopes that he’ll be quick, hopes that someone will come find him, notice how long he’s been gone.
But nobody does.
Nobody comes to save him.
He’s utterly alone.
It’s claws dig deep into his skin, drawing deep gashes, until its fingers finds the edge of a cut and begin to peel the flaps of skin away like ribbons, in one long, delicate piece, carefully unwinding him.
The air stings as it hits exposed muscle, and he can do nothing but struggle fruitlessly in its hold, as it keeps him pinned down, and still, peeling away more and more long strips of skin like it’s peeling an apple to expose the sweet flesh beneath.
“Shhh… shhh…”
It murmurs, hand on his cheek, and oh, had he been screaming?
He must have been, his throat hurts so much, hot tears rolling down his cheeks, fear, pain, panic all mixed together into a big lump in his chest.
“It’ll be over soon.”
It whispers oh so sweetly, as its hands begin to reach into his chest, feeling the contours of his ribs, before digging in, and-
Cra-CRACK
With a horrid pop , it cracks his ribcage open, and oh, he knows this should have hurt, he knows, but why, why did it feel so good , like the relief you feel after popping your back with a good stretch?
A panicked laugh bubbles out of his throat and it sounds like a rasp, as he looks down at the ribs jutting out of his chest like a gaping maw, as its hand reaches deeper in, until he can feel it, a hand wrapped around his heart.
“Can you feel that? Can you feel me?”
It asks him, and he can only gurgle weakly in response, as it begins to pull.
“How lovely.”
It croons, cradling his exposed heart against its cheek, oh so lovingly, before bringing to closed to that gaping maw, and-
In an instant, he’s completely undone, the pain unimaginable as he screams and screams and screams his throat ragged, pain radiating from his core, spreading out to every inch of his very being, nerves aflame with a whole new kind of burning fire.
It’s a relief when his mind breaks, unable to bear the weight of this new, agonising reality.
“Oh, What a beauty you’re becoming.”
It caresses his cheek, exposed muscle and bone burning under its touch, his now glassy eyes following its movements silently.
He doesn’t know what he must look like now, skin unwound, bones broken and reset into new configurations, body contorted into a mockery of human form.
“We’ll be together now.
Forever.”
It speaks, and dimly, he’s distantly aware of a voice screaming inside his head.
“And if you ever get lonely…”
It continues, voice saccharinely sweet.
“We can always invite those friends of yours over.”
He only gurgles in response, even as something inside his mind flickers, and dims, retreating into himself as It holds him close.
“We’ll let you get settled in first.”
It promises.
“We can hold the housewarming party later.”
And it sighs, content at last.
“ Welcome Home Sam .”