look at all that which surrounds me [ open ]

[determinedest]

Who: FRISK and YOU and/or TIM and YOU
Where: Mostly outside tbh like just generally gonna be in the woods
When: 2/09 - 2/11
Rating: PG-13; general cw for mental health shit for Tim in particular
Summary: Frisk climbed a mountain. Tim's lost time. Neither of them is particularly okay.
The Story:

[Just kidding starters are in the comments again so I don't spam the log comm lol. Anyway if you want closed starters just smack me here or over at arrpee. Also feel free to use either prose or brackets and I'll match you.]

Comments

[yelloweyed]

[Dammit. David breathes hard through his nose.]

Yeah, that's... that's smart. You're a smart kid. But your mom isn't here. Probably. Sometimes you gotta accept someone's help, especially if you're in a dangerous situation.

[He hopes that doesn't just upset the kid, but honestly, he's running out of options and he's just about in a complete panic at this point.]

[postictal]

...she's coming. She's - she's coming, or the doctors are. They will.

[They'll find him. They always do. Even when he desperately doesn't want them to, but they will. For once, that can be a reassurance. His arms pull up around his chest, tightly, clutching at the threads of his shirt, picking at them with a spasmodic irregularity.]

They'll find me.

[yelloweyed]

...Kid, you're not where you think you are.

[David glances over his shoulder. He thinks he can see the Angry Boy's stark white skin through the trees, and he flinches.]

This is a place called Wonderland. It's far from your home, from your mom and the doctors. It brings people in at random. And right now, it's also got dinosaurs. For some reason.

[postictal]

No...no. 'S Rosswood.

[But it's not very certain. It sounds like someone trying to insist that a reality is there, trying to torque the arrangement of things into something he can understand. But it doesn't. None of it makes sense. None of it looks familiar.]

It's...it's okay. They'll find me. They always do.

[yelloweyed]

I've never been to a place called Rosswood. Are there dinosaurs there?

[It probably won't help to get snippy, but David can't help himself. He's rude when he's scared.]

You don't have to believe me. At least let me show you the way away from danger, kid. Please?

[postictal]

They're not real.

[He shakes his head furiously. That's not real. It can't be real. He can...he's just losing his head, all over again. It happens. He's not a bad person because of it. He's not bad, he's not getting bad again, because he was supposed to be getting better. They were going to send him home.]

[So why can't he remember how he got here?]

They're not.

[yelloweyed]

[David frowns, falling silent. The kid assumed they weren't real. He mentioned doctors. David's familiar enough with this song and dance to recognize the hints for what they are. He's fresh from the hospital. God, they locked up and monitored kids, too? David always knew his illness was with him from a young age, but he wasn't even diagnosed until he was a teen, and he certainly wasn't hospitalized until his twenties.

He'd have to guess they're kept in a different ward or hospital altogether. Just thinking the phrase "Clockworks Pediatric Hospital" makes him feel uncomfortable.

David attempts a different approach.]

This place is weird. I thought it wasn't real at first, either. Like jungles in the hospital's hallways or... the devil with yellow eyes that follows me.

But there's things here that can't be hallucination or delusion. Things you can touch and feel and taste that appear from nothing. We both see the dinosaurs, right?

[postictal]

[Hospital.]

[Is he...from the hospital too? Does he - does he see things too? Have, have "fits" that have him on the floor while Mom screams and then everything just fades out and he wakes up here? It doesn't make any sense. It doesn't make any sense, for someone to just...to just know those sorts of things.]

Are you real?

[He's not supposed to talk to them. Not supposed to talk to things that aren't there. That just makes them feel real, when they aren't.]

[He can't be. Can't be real. Can't be, because...because that would mean all the rest of this is real too, and it can't be. It can't be.]

[yelloweyed]

I'm real.

[He pauses for a second, before realizing he needs to have evidence for this kid to believe him. Anything can say it's real. Lenny says she's real.]

My name is David Haller. I have an older sister named Amy. I was diagnosed with schizophrenia as a teenager. I stayed in Clockworks Psychiatric Hospital for six years. I found myself here a month ago.

[Getting this kid to believe him is a double edged sword. The kid's already scared. Imagine if he knows everything around him, including the dinosaurs, is real.

But he has to make sure this kid doesn't run off and spend one of his five deaths.]

[postictal]

[He - he sounds real. He sounds real? But when you're seeing things, they always sound real. They always sound real, but they don't sound...like this. Articulate. Specific. Saying things like, like the names of hospitals, and the name of something that he thinks he's heard before. Skiz...Skizo...Ski-something. It's too big a word for him to catch and hold onto it for long.]

[He has a name. A sister. A story he can tell.]

[Things he sees can never say that.]

You were...in a hospital? With, with doctors, and they told you things?

[It's suspicious, undoubtedly. Drawn out. Paired with scrunched-up brow and shuffling steps.]

[But there's still the ache of something wistfully, painfully hopeful, trembling just beneath.]

[yelloweyed]

[Boy, the doctors sure told him things. Sometimes he thought they enjoyed hearing themselves talk more than they did hearing his side of the story.]

Yeah. With doctors. And a schedule. Meds every morning and night. Therapy sessions where they told me about the... crazy things I've said before, like I didn't remember. Needles when I freaked out, to put me to sleep. They only brought those out every once in a while.

[Like when he freaked out in his sleep and broke his bed. That was pretty unfair. He didn't even have a chance to defend himself.]

[postictal]

[...]

[It doesn't make sense. Other people aren't like this. Other people aren't supposed to be like this. Other people aren't supposed to have the same kind of bad thoughts and scary happenings that he does.]

[Needles. Meds. Therapy sessions. The crazy things that he's supposed to be getting better about not seeing.]

You're not me? [That...only barely makes sense, wee Tim.]

[yelloweyed]

[David can't help but laugh a little, kind of baffled at the question. This kid has really been through a lot, huh?]

I'm not. Remember? My name's David. Plenty of people in the hospital for things like this. It's not just you, kid. What's your name, anyway?

[If it's also David, that might complicate this line of reasoning, but hopefully it's not.]

cw: internalized ableism

[postictal]

[It's not just you.]

[It's not just you, but he knows that, doesn't he? He's learned that it's - it's not just him. It's other people, but they're all wrong. They're crazy. White jackets and, and ramblings, and, and like he's seen on TV, right? Right? That's - he's never met anyone else who's been like him and, and normal about it.]

[Doesn't make any sense.]

...Tim. [He whispers it at long last, soft and scared.] 'M Tim.