entrancelogs | i've got demons running 'round in my head [open]

"And now Tim does, too. Got two bodies that he dropped on his own - as well as everyone else whose lives he ruined, just by being there! There's nothing in his life that wasn't ruined just because he happened to be there!"

"Shut up," says Tim, but it's too small, too frail, too trembling. The shadow speaks louder.

"He stabbed him. He stabbed him in the throat! And when Alex lay there, screaming and gasping and trying to breathe through the hole in his neck, Tim started beating him, like some kind of animal! Tried ripping him apart! You should've seen the mess he made of old Alex Kralie. Guy was so red by the end of it that you couldn't even recognize him!"

"Shut up," says Tim, louder, desperately.

"It's not like he doesn't know he's a murderer," the shadow spits, like bacon fat sizzling in the pan. "He just doesn't want everyone else to know. Especially not the people who knew Alex Kralie. Who cared about Alex Kralie. Who gave a damn about Alex Kralie."

Two bodies. So there was someone else, too. And Tim did say, back at movie night...

No, this is stupid. He shouldn't listen to the Shadow. What is he doing? These things are just--illusions, just a part of an event. Nothing but lies.

He can't help flinching as the Shadow describes it. Shouldn't be listening, but he can't not. The damn Shadow is too loud. The throat. He can imagine it. Humans...they bleed so much when anything damages their necks. He has no idea why. It's like that's where all the blood is and really, how can--how can creatures with so much substance and solidness be filled with so much liquid?

"okay. shut up."

The Shadow doesn't hear him or Tim, or it just ignores them both. It keeps going. The Shadow is watching with rapt, weepy attention, tears spilling down its face.

"this--isn't the time or place for any of this. i'm sick of knowing people's deep dark secrets any--"

"don't lie. stop lying all the time! knowing is how we protect ourselves. now--now we know tim can't be trusted!"

"stop it."

"what if he tries to kill you? he might! if he killed one person, he can do it again! you know how LOVE works."

"not in other worlds, i don't. i'm not listening to this."

"he's dangerous! he could hurt us! he already hates us...he could hurt us so easily! we can't trust him! he's too dangerous!"

Sans presses a hand to his forehead.

"everyone is dangerous. literally everyone. LOVE or no LOVE, it...1 point is the same as 99999. it's all the same. half the people i know could kill me by accident. so just--someone being dangerous to me isn't a good enough argument. try again."

"it's one of the reasons we can't trust anyone...no matter how much we want to. why? why is it so hard? it was easy when all you had to do was relate on how broken you both were. right? sans...you came out too wrong to ever get anything right."

Sans looks over at Tim, trying to meet his gaze. This is fucked up. This is all so fucked up, and it's too hot, and it's hard to breathe, and the only reason they ever got along in the first place was because they both understood misery. Self-imposed and otherwise.

It's so fucked up.

"Don't you know, already, that he can't be trusted?" the shadow crows. "You know what everyone back home likes to call him? HE IS A LIAR. He lies and he lies and he'll do it compulsively and he'll do it to your face, and he'll justify it to himself so it sounds like he had no other choice!"

Tim -

Tim says nothing.

He ducks his head and wraps his arms around his chest and doesn't look at any of them, not Sans, not the whining, tearful shadow in the corner, not the vindictive mirror of himself snarling out words he can't deny. Its eyes shine gold in spiteful victory.

"You can't trust him. Not a single word he says. Even if he pretends it's true. Maybe you were never friends."

"yeah, well, it's a growing club. accepting new members every day. gotta come up with a cool name for it. 'liar's club' is kinda on the nose."

Tim isn't looking at him, or at anyone. Sans gives a very heavy sigh and glares at the Shadow.

"there's at least one thing i know i can trust him on. that's all i need right now."

"but what if you regret it? you probably will!"

Sans doesn't even dignify that with an answer. He steps a little closer to Tim.

"tim. i can get us outta here if you want. we can lose them for a bit."

"Don't touch me!" His tone is shrill and he immediately flinches back several paces, arms upraised to shield himself from something that doesn't come.

The shadow's gaze smolders, glinting bronze.

"You still trust him? Even if he can't bear to look at you?" Its tone is ravenous, the words hissing like steam from a kettle. "Even if he can't bear to let you touch him? You always hated people touching you, didn't you, Timothy? Too many doctors who grabbed you without asking and made you swallow those pills and had to keep you tied down because otherwise you'd hurt yourself, am I right? Does he tell you that, Sans?"

Shut up. Tim mouths the words but they issue soundlessly, his eyes heating and wet.

"Look at him. He's crying. He always cries. Does he tell you how much he still can't bear to look at you, because you remind him of a nightmare he could never really shake?" Its voice pitches upward into something akin to a roar. "A nightmare that might not even be real, Timothy! Because you're delusional, the same as you've always been!"

Sans jerks back at the sudden movement and raises both hands.

"i won't, i'm not."

He knows better, knows not to grab someone without their consent unless it's a real emergency. Hates it too much himself. The Shadow's words sting, because god, he gets it. And if what the Shadow is saying is true, then Tim had it even worse than Sans.

He looks away as the Shadow keeps going.

"i knew it. i knew it, i knew it. he does hate us. we scare him. he's scared of us. what if he tries to kill us like alex did?"

"stop it."

"everyone hates us, or they're scared of us, or they've figured out how awful we are, or we ruined things. i don't know how to fix it. i don't want to be alone! i'm sorry!" Sans's Shadow clutches at its head. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry! i'm sorry, tim! don't hate me, please, i'll be good, i'll do better, i'll do whatever you want! don't hate me, please, please--"

Sans gives the Shadow a very gentle push that somehow manages to topple it over. It collapses in a sobbing heap and Sans steps between Tim and Tim's own Shadow.

"fuck off, pal. if jay and max and i saw it, it was real. no reason i can't teleport you somewhere else, so back off. he gets it, okay? we all get it."

"He doesn't get it. Because I'm still here."

Its edges shiver, as though being viewed through a haze of static. Maybe it's just the mist, but it looks almost like the thing could become untethered from reality at any moment. Like it could just disappear.

"You don't get it either. You have to accept what you are if you want any hope of getting rid of us. So accept it...or face the consequences."

Tim says nothing, hunched over, inert.

The shadow's expression twists, ugly as scar tissue.

"Didn't Tim tell you that his brand of crazy tends to spread?"

The Shadow flickers, and nothing about that is good. He's seen that sort of thing before. Not from Tim, at least not yet, but Sans can only assume that the consequences are just as bad.

"here's an idea, how about you give him some time to fucking think before forcing him into some kind of bullshit decision. i've always accepted what i am, so this whole thing is ridiculous."

Sans's Shadow sobs into the floor. "l-liar."

"even if that is the case, you can't just--expect people to instantly be okay with this crap. it's absurd. people need time. so--both of you, leave us alone. give us some goddamn time. before i grab you both and stuff you in a towel closet."

"The skeleton plays therapist," the shadow sneers. "You can't get rid of us. When are you going to learn, where Tim here is concerned? You notice that he's not saying anything? Notice how he's not bothering to protest?"

Tim, continuously, says nothing. His hands blanket over his face, and he says nothing. Does nothing.

"He won't say it to your face, because he doesn't know it himself. But I will.

You're the one who won't ever give Tim some goddamn time. Always pushing yourself on him, again and again, like you can solve his problems. Trying to read everything he says as a silent plea to keep you around longer!

When all he really needs is for people like you to go away and give him that goddamn time you keep going on about."

Right, Tim?

Tim doesn't answer.

"i'm not--"

He doesn't manage to finish. Tim's Shadow keeps going. Sans glances back at Tim. It's true, he's not saying anything, but he must just be overwhelmed, right? Sans is feeling pretty goddamn overwhelmed himself. It's inertia that's keeping him going at this point.

You're the one. Always pushing yourself on him.

Sans finds himself looking down at his Shadow, who has curled into a ball and buried his head under his arms.

So. This really is him. A clingy, emotional parasite.

"i..."

Tim's Shadow keeps going, but Sans doesn't even really bother trying to be heard. The Shadow is right. That last conversation with Tim went so wrong, and he spent hours afterward trying to figure out what he'd done wrong. The Shadow is right. He pushed too hard, didn't give Tim any room to breathe.

And here he is shoving himself into Tim's problems again.

Sans's Shadow mutters into his tear-sodden sleeves. "give up. just give up. it's easier. it hurts less. just give up. give up. you're a parasite, so just let go and give up. they'll all be so much happier."

Sans shoves his hands deeper into his pockets.

"i'm...not...gonna just walk away. i know he needs space, i...know i fucked up, i know i'm still... i can't walk away if you're gonna hurt him."

"All he has to do is accept me. I'm not doing anything wrong. I'm just being everything he won't let me be."

Isn't that what anyone wants? To be themselves? Shouldn't you be allowed to embrace that fully? Shouldn't you be able to do everything you wish for yourself, and feel liberated enough to not hide any aspect of who you are?

"Are you gonna make this worse, Sans? All because you can't get over your own hang-ups? Are you gonna risk dragging everyone else down with you because you don't know how to take 'no' for an answer?"

"if...i need to give him time, then so do you."

This can't be the right thing to do. It can't be. Maybe these Shadows are just talk, just a lot of angry words, but what if they're not? What if they can hurt people, even kill them?

What if he walks away now and Tim's Shadow just...kills him?

"it's what he wants, right?"

Sans rounds on his Shadow, left eyesocket flickering for half a second. The Shadow flinches.

"shut the fuck up."

Tim's Shadow might as well be able to read his mind as well.

He's quiet for a bit, staring at the floor.

"...no. i'm...i'm done dragging people down with me. i...just..."

Just nothing. The fight goes out of him. He glances in Tim's direction.

"i'm sorry."

He disappears.

Sans's Shadow pushes himself up onto his knees, sniffling and dragging a sleeve across its eyesockets. It peers up at Tim's Shadow for a moment.

"they never really learn anything, do they?"

Then it vanishes as well.

The shadow doesn't hurt him, no. Not any more than Tim's capable of hurting himself, which, as it turns out, is a hell of a lot. Tim glances up at the thing, sniffing softly as he rubs his nose on his sleeve, leaving a disgusting trail of shiny snot.

"...thanks," he whispers.

The shadow shrugs.

"Give it time, he says."

Tim looks at the vision of himself steadily, but makes no motion to get to his feet just yet. Instead, he draws his knees up to his chest and settles his chin atop them, arms curling around to hug them tighter to himself. Just like he used to.

"I don't think I have time," he says.

"You don't."

Tim closes his eyes.

"Okay."

i've got demons running 'round in my head [open]

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