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

[postictal]

Who: Tim Wright and YOU // Frisk and YOU
Where: The Bathhouse
When: 11/17 - 11/20
Rating: PG-13 at least
Summary: What happens when you copy a copy? The law of diminishing returns.
The Story:

[Just kidding. Starters are in the comments.]

Comments

[punful]

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."

[postictal]

"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?"

[punful]

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."

[postictal]

"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.

[punful]

"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."

[postictal]

"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?"

[punful]

"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.

[postictal]

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."