Seth Gecko (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
screwedontight) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2017-04-23 04:13 pm
screwedontight) wrote in entrancelogs2017-04-23 04:13 pm
[Open] All that matters lost
Who: Seth, anyone that finds him about
Where: The beach. His room. Around the hallways.
When: Days 2 and 4
Rating: PG-13 for mention of drug use and possible drug use.
Summary: Seth faces two different AUs, both causing him to lose someone he loves.
The Story:
Day Two: On the Beach
Seth is out for his daily run when he sees an odd shimmer just hovering there along the water’s edge. It is like a mirage, a light that was odd to the world yet it takes him a minute to realize it is less oddity of the light and more as if he is looking at the area backstage through a small tear in the movie screen.
None of it was clear though he can barely make out movement. There’s too much movement, too much noise on this side of the “screen”, and Seth pauses only long enough to slip the small knife he carries at his waistband while he’s out running, not trusting Wonderland enough to trust whatever this is.
Moving closer, leaning slightly to one side so that he isn’t offering himself up fully to the tear. Not making himself a target.
At first all he can hear is the ocean, the breaking of the waves at his feet. Then there’s laughter. A high, childish sound. The padding of feet come towards him, bare and wet sounding on what might have been hardwood floors. Peering through the tear, squinting, Seth can not make out much more than movement, small and childlike to go with the sound of the laughter. Then there’s a voice.
He doesn’t have to see her to know how it is as she calls out after the child.
“Get back here! Come on, Kiddo, you need clothes for church!”
Despite calling after the child, there’s laughter to her voice. Kate’s voice. Kate chasing after a child, getting her ready for church. His mind is racing, trying to understand this. Swallowing hard against a lump in his throat, eyes closing, just listening. He didn’t want to see more, even if he could make out more than hazy shapes beyond the tear.
More laughter, shuffling around with the squeak of springs on a bed that led to more laughter. Then another voice. Male. Unknown to Seth.
“You two ready yet? I’ve got the heater on in the car already. We’re going to be late if we don’t get going.”
“Pancakes!”
She sounds like Seth imagines that Kate probably did at that age.
“After church,” the male voice says. “Now, car!”
“Caaaaaaaaaaar.” The voice goes on, trailing off with the pounding of feet that sound as if they have shoes now.
Kate laughs. There’s the sound of a kiss. “Now, car,” Kate said, mimicking the same way the man had sounded. The man who was likely the father of the child. Kate’s child. Kate’s husband.
Whatever it is, Seth wanted away from it now, glad the steps are walking away, leaving the scene, whatever it is. Something fucking with his head. Something that knows their lives, how Kate came to be in theirs, maybe. And knows how Seth thinks sometimes about what her life would be like without them, if she’d gone to Mexico with her family without being dragged along to the Titty Twister.
Day Four: A hallway
After hearing Kate with her family, Seth has been drinking a lot more than he should. It’s been a day, but he’s been through at least a bottle, and he has thankfully avoiding much of the madness going on in Wonderland with invisible who the fuck even knows what. At least though the alcohol means he doesn’t think about the leather kit tucked into the bottom drawer of his dresser.
Heading out for the dining room, figuring he still needs food. Instead he finds another one of those damn shimmering spaces. Except this one is brighter, bigger than before, and he can clearly see the scene beyond.
Even if it wasn’t for Santanico, he would know the room by the background. Somewhere in the Titty Twister, and Seth knew the exact moment it was.
Because Richie is laying there, bleeding out from the gunshot wound inflicted on him to “entice” him to accept what he is being offered. And he is refusing.
He is refusing Santanico, and she is angry and pacing the room but she hasn’t turned him. He’s dying, and she hasn’t turned him.
Seth doesn’t realize he’s breathing quick and shallow, nearly panting, shaking his head. “No. No. Come on, Richie, this isn’t how it ends.”
Because for as much shit as Seth has given his brother since this very day, since the chance took place, the idea of watching his brother die, of letting him die, it’s impossible. It was then it hit Seth that it was impossible. No matter what Richie was, Seth couldn’t see him die.
“Richie!”
He sees his brother in this tear turn his head, realizing he was conscious of Seth standing there, conscious of him being there. He isn’t thinking when he rushes in, pushing past the opening and into the world of the tear.
“Do it! Fucking do it!”
Not thinking about where he is now, what this is. Just that she can’t fucking let Richie die.
“It’s too late.”
Even as she says it, Seth hears it. A wheezing breath, exhaling something, a word Seth can’t understand.
“No, it’s fucking not!”
Dropping down next to his brother, reaching for him even as he realizes Richie’s hand has gone slack over the gunshot wound, eyes open and not seeing.
“No. No, it’s not. It can’t fucking be too late.”
Grabbing Richie by the shoulders, shaking him as if that would wake him up even as the world around him waivers, the tear closing though Seth isn’t aware of it.
“He said no,” she says, voice judgmental, angry, accusatory. “Because of you. He said he wouldn’t do it because of you.”
The world is vanishing and the last thing Seth hears is Santanico’s voice once more.
“It’s your fault, Seth. You killed him.”
He came to in his own room, in his bed, grasping for a body that was no longer there, shaking his head once more.
“No. No I didn’t. I fucking didn’t. I fucking couldn't.”
Nearly tumbling out of the bed, desperate to understand where he is, what’s going on. His bed. His room. Grabbing the kit from the dresser, he headed out of the room, not caring that he’s wearing slacks and a white undershirt, no shoes, not even sure where he was going, but trying to get the words out of his head, Santanico’s voice echoing in his ear.
You killed him.
Where: The beach. His room. Around the hallways.
When: Days 2 and 4
Rating: PG-13 for mention of drug use and possible drug use.
Summary: Seth faces two different AUs, both causing him to lose someone he loves.
The Story:
Day Two: On the Beach
Seth is out for his daily run when he sees an odd shimmer just hovering there along the water’s edge. It is like a mirage, a light that was odd to the world yet it takes him a minute to realize it is less oddity of the light and more as if he is looking at the area backstage through a small tear in the movie screen.
None of it was clear though he can barely make out movement. There’s too much movement, too much noise on this side of the “screen”, and Seth pauses only long enough to slip the small knife he carries at his waistband while he’s out running, not trusting Wonderland enough to trust whatever this is.
Moving closer, leaning slightly to one side so that he isn’t offering himself up fully to the tear. Not making himself a target.
At first all he can hear is the ocean, the breaking of the waves at his feet. Then there’s laughter. A high, childish sound. The padding of feet come towards him, bare and wet sounding on what might have been hardwood floors. Peering through the tear, squinting, Seth can not make out much more than movement, small and childlike to go with the sound of the laughter. Then there’s a voice.
He doesn’t have to see her to know how it is as she calls out after the child.
“Get back here! Come on, Kiddo, you need clothes for church!”
Despite calling after the child, there’s laughter to her voice. Kate’s voice. Kate chasing after a child, getting her ready for church. His mind is racing, trying to understand this. Swallowing hard against a lump in his throat, eyes closing, just listening. He didn’t want to see more, even if he could make out more than hazy shapes beyond the tear.
More laughter, shuffling around with the squeak of springs on a bed that led to more laughter. Then another voice. Male. Unknown to Seth.
“You two ready yet? I’ve got the heater on in the car already. We’re going to be late if we don’t get going.”
“Pancakes!”
She sounds like Seth imagines that Kate probably did at that age.
“After church,” the male voice says. “Now, car!”
“Caaaaaaaaaaar.” The voice goes on, trailing off with the pounding of feet that sound as if they have shoes now.
Kate laughs. There’s the sound of a kiss. “Now, car,” Kate said, mimicking the same way the man had sounded. The man who was likely the father of the child. Kate’s child. Kate’s husband.
Whatever it is, Seth wanted away from it now, glad the steps are walking away, leaving the scene, whatever it is. Something fucking with his head. Something that knows their lives, how Kate came to be in theirs, maybe. And knows how Seth thinks sometimes about what her life would be like without them, if she’d gone to Mexico with her family without being dragged along to the Titty Twister.
Day Four: A hallway
After hearing Kate with her family, Seth has been drinking a lot more than he should. It’s been a day, but he’s been through at least a bottle, and he has thankfully avoiding much of the madness going on in Wonderland with invisible who the fuck even knows what. At least though the alcohol means he doesn’t think about the leather kit tucked into the bottom drawer of his dresser.
Heading out for the dining room, figuring he still needs food. Instead he finds another one of those damn shimmering spaces. Except this one is brighter, bigger than before, and he can clearly see the scene beyond.
Even if it wasn’t for Santanico, he would know the room by the background. Somewhere in the Titty Twister, and Seth knew the exact moment it was.
Because Richie is laying there, bleeding out from the gunshot wound inflicted on him to “entice” him to accept what he is being offered. And he is refusing.
He is refusing Santanico, and she is angry and pacing the room but she hasn’t turned him. He’s dying, and she hasn’t turned him.
Seth doesn’t realize he’s breathing quick and shallow, nearly panting, shaking his head. “No. No. Come on, Richie, this isn’t how it ends.”
Because for as much shit as Seth has given his brother since this very day, since the chance took place, the idea of watching his brother die, of letting him die, it’s impossible. It was then it hit Seth that it was impossible. No matter what Richie was, Seth couldn’t see him die.
“Richie!”
He sees his brother in this tear turn his head, realizing he was conscious of Seth standing there, conscious of him being there. He isn’t thinking when he rushes in, pushing past the opening and into the world of the tear.
“Do it! Fucking do it!”
Not thinking about where he is now, what this is. Just that she can’t fucking let Richie die.
“It’s too late.”
Even as she says it, Seth hears it. A wheezing breath, exhaling something, a word Seth can’t understand.
“No, it’s fucking not!”
Dropping down next to his brother, reaching for him even as he realizes Richie’s hand has gone slack over the gunshot wound, eyes open and not seeing.
“No. No, it’s not. It can’t fucking be too late.”
Grabbing Richie by the shoulders, shaking him as if that would wake him up even as the world around him waivers, the tear closing though Seth isn’t aware of it.
“He said no,” she says, voice judgmental, angry, accusatory. “Because of you. He said he wouldn’t do it because of you.”
The world is vanishing and the last thing Seth hears is Santanico’s voice once more.
“It’s your fault, Seth. You killed him.”
He came to in his own room, in his bed, grasping for a body that was no longer there, shaking his head once more.
“No. No I didn’t. I fucking didn’t. I fucking couldn't.”
Nearly tumbling out of the bed, desperate to understand where he is, what’s going on. His bed. His room. Grabbing the kit from the dresser, he headed out of the room, not caring that he’s wearing slacks and a white undershirt, no shoes, not even sure where he was going, but trying to get the words out of his head, Santanico’s voice echoing in his ear.
You killed him.
no subject
His brother had always had the reins, had just assumed that he and Richard were always on the same page. Richie had gone along with it for so long, had lived in his brother's shadow for so long, that when the opportunity for something else came, he took it.
There had been fucking consequences, but he couldn't take that shit back.
"If I didn't flip the fuck out, do you really think you would? That's just stupid man. If you don't want it, you don't want it, but don't give me shitty excuses."
But maybe because there had always been something 'wrong' with him, becoming this hadn't been that much of a change for him. He'd been crazier human in those last couple of years. Maybe she'd prepared him. Who the fuck knew, really?
"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm not fucking going anywhere. And I'm not gonna be that dick that just does it because I feel like it. You'll either come around or you won't."
And then he'll be the one that ends up alone. Whatever, he'll deal when the time comes.
He won't have a choice.no subject
Except Seth isn't sure he won't. He isn't sure he'll wake up. He isn't sure of a lot of shit, and he hates that uncertainty. It was all weighing on him, all of the time. Enough that he had no idea how to handle it, now more than ever.
A shame that Seth isn't strong enough to admit that, holding onto thing with a sharp tongue and glib comments, and fighting his brother to avoid talking about all they fought over.
"I don't want to fucking die," he spits out, rolling his eyes. For all he dives in and faces it, knows that he is going to die because he won't make this choice. It's more deflection, some bits of lies, and a lot of nerves that he won't admit to.
"And I haven't worried since like day fucking one that you might even think to do it if I don't want to." Maybe at first but that felt like a long time ago, even if it was hardly any time at all. He definitely hadn't considered it at all since coming to Wonderland.
no subject
Then he'd gotten his ass thrown in jail and Richard had been on his own. Going back to being told what to do? Not feeling like an equal from the moment he'd gotten his brother back? It had been a fucking spiral that Santanico had easily taken advantage of.
"You will someday. And you may not wanna accept that, but I have to if this is the way it's gonna be." Otherwise, he'll be the one a fucking wreck on the other side. "It's not like I'm not in the same situation with Kate, okay?"
"I'll deal with it." Because unlike them, he didn't have a choice. He never did.
no subject
Except Seth had in their own world, and for all he knows he'll never see her again. Here, that's all changed.
"We're in Wonderland, Richie. Does it fucking matter here? Everyone tells me that it's all a moot point," he pointed out, smirking as if that was the be all, end all of it. "We just keep on here, and we never have to worry about it."
no subject
He just couldn't really admit why that was.
"Nah, we gotta worry about losing our memories instead. At least I hear that takes awhile. We'll just have to figure the place out before that happens."
And not get sent home against their will.
no subject
"We got time, right? And we can, I don't know. Write all the shit down, and do videos on here to remember it all. We can find a way around that, Richie. We're good at finding a way around."
And that be did believe they could. In the end, they always did. Though he's ignoring the horrible that could happen.
no subject
He really did believe that. They'd figured almost everything else out, and Richie wasn't gonna go out without a bang. Shit was gonna get real before he lost all his memories, he'd see to that. His brother wasn't gonna go down easy, either.
no subject
"You think those things? Are they just nightmares, or do you think they're like, I don't even know. Other worlds? Like in the movies? Alternative timelines?"
A timeline where Richie died, and he was alone.
no subject
Not him, that was for sure. There was no real way to know.
"For all we know, it's just Wonderland fucking with us, trying to break us down. Even if it was an alternate timeline or some bullshit, it isn't real. Besides, we have fucking mirrors already. It's just more of that shit."
no subject
"You ever dealt with something here that looks like some faceless freak that stands like seven foot tall with limbs to match?"
Flinching as he thinks about it, the memory of the headache in the back of his mind and hoping that mentioning it isn't going to bring it back.
no subject
"No. Are you sure you haven't just totally lost it because that sounds like something out of a bad horror movie."
Then again, so did a lot of things about Wonderland sometimes, but forget that.
"Why don't we just go back to our place and drink til we pass out or something? 'Cause you're kind of freaking me out, man."
no subject
"Yeah, you know, that works." Anything that wasn't thinking about all of it, especially the part where after the encounter with that shit from Tim's world, he's wondering if he's losing his damn mind. Just in how much he's fighting not to think about what he can't stop thinking about.
"Drinks are on you, much as they can be." Bad jokes were better than honesty sometimes. That started long before this place.
no subject
"Sure, I'll keep 'em coming. Watch me drink you under the table, though."
no subject
Later maybe he'd broach it again. After he hasn't been freaking out over losing Kate and Richie in different ways.
"Well yeah, because you're cheating." Culebra metabolism was entierly cheating.