For the second time that week, you awoke in a dark room, but this time you were stood with your back straight and your wrists and ankles untied. You were able to freely move around the emptiness you found yourself in—not that you could.

Even though you were alone as far as the eye could see, you were filled with a fear so intense you could feel tears welling up. Your heart was pounding in your ears, rendering any other noise inferior to its cacophonous drumming. Muscles trembling, your eyes darted around, scanning the gloominess that surrounded you as a chill traversed your spine.

It wasn't a fear you had ever encountered before. It felt harsher then anything you'd ever felt before. It was more commanding and empyrean, like you were a defendant in a criminal trial, stood in the presence of God themself as the judge, waiting for them to hand down the punishment for your sins.

'Hello?' you squeaked, voice cracking uncomfortably. 'Where am I?'

A deep, orotund voice echoed from all around you. 'You should know, mortal. You are the one who willingly entered my realm, are you not?'

As though an artist was carving through the shadows with a sparkler, the outline of an abnormally large horse and its rider began to appear as the words spoken entered your head, swirling around like wine in the maw of a winemaster.

The horse was an impressive creature—its mane and tail were a vibrant shade of tangerine, and it stood tall and proud, a mildly haughty look in its eyes. The look was the same look worn on the face of the rider: a tall, proud looking man with a spear in hand. His face only had a pair of sharp eyes, and he lacked hair.

He stared down at you in disdain, like your very existence was the greatest offence to him.

'Who are you?' you managed to inquire, your body quivering as you maintained eye contact.

'My name has evolved over the centuries. You may call me Chernabog.'

Your brain blipped. 'You're...Chernabog? Are you sure?'

'Of course I am sure,' he snapped.

'You don't look like Chernabog. I thought you had horns and wings and stuff. You look like a regular guy.'

The horse kicked the ground nervously as the rider sighed. 'That form would disintegrate someone like you at once. Unless you wish to be vaporised on sight, this form is more suitable for your mortal eyes.'

God, didn't imagine that he'd have such an attitude on him.

'Alright, chill out. I didn't come here to get in a pissing match with you.' You folded your arms, relieved that the first wave of terror had dissipated, leaving you with a more anxious form.

'Then what did you come here for? If I recall correctly, you were the one who's ascension ritual was interrupted, correct?'

'Yes.'

'And now you work for that slimy bastard Slenderman?'

'No.'

His eyes frowned. 'You have the power of sight, do you not? The sight that allows you to see the beings we hide from the visions of those who are normal?'

'Just say that I can see demons and Proxies.' If he was going to speak like some Victorian nobleman, you weren't sure how long your brain could keep up. 'But yes, I do. I'm a neutral force in the world.'

'Yet here you are, stood in my realm with a motive in mind. Does that still make you neutral?'

You grit your teeth, saying, 'Until an agreement is made, I am still neutral—motives or not.'

'Fine.' Chernabog's eyes smiled at you with sadistic glee. 'What is it you want, dear?'

'I want to trade my soul for Jack Nichols' freedom.'

A moment of silence passed before it was shattered by Chernabog's roaring howl of laughter. Even the horse whinnied at you, mocking every word that had fallen from your lips. You waited for the hysterics to subside, hoping that your legs wouldn't give out from under you.

'You want to make him normal again?' Chernabog asked finally, wiping a tear from his eye, 'surely you must jest.'

The look on your face told him everything; you weren't jesting. He could see inside your very being, read every thought you had and every memory you held. He could read the emotion that motivated every human being—for some, it was kindness, for others it was spite, but yours was perseverance. You weren't going to leave until you got your way, he could tell. The fire in your eyes that was more akin to lightning was something he enjoyed to see.

'I see,' he hummed, 'your feelings are that strong, are they?'

'My feelings aren't a factor in this,' you said cooly, 'I'm merely fulfilling a promise.'

'A promise forged in stupidity is a noble one indeed,' he sneered.

You glared at him. 'No promise is stupid. Are you going to help me or not? He only got fucked up thanks to your cultists.'

He shrugged and said: 'I don't tell my cultists to do anything. They do their own thing.

'So you just sit there and watch?!'

'No, I tend to ignore them.'

Is he being facetious on purpose?

'Whatever, they're still your responsibility. Are you gonna take my soul or what?' Please don't give me a chance to change my mind.

'No. I don't want your soul—I want something far more valuable, but first, I want you to prove to me that what I want is worth taking.' If a mouth had been drawn, he would be grinning from ear to ear. 'See you soon.'

The darkness faded away and you blinked, your surroundings coming into focus. You were sat on a familiar looking bed, staring emptily at the messy desk in front of you. The room was small and split in two: each side contained a single bed, a desk, and a dresser. The other side of the room was bare.

It was your worst nightmare come to life—you were in university again.

The laptop on your desk told you the date was November 15th. The date sent a flood of panic through you as your brain scrambled to figure out what happened on that particular day.

'Of course I'm re-living this day,' you muttered, falling backwards onto the uncomfortable mattress. 'Of course.' Laughter bubbled up inside of you, leaving you looking like a maniac.

November 15th was the day someone broke into your dorm. If you remembered rightly, you were at a late morning class when it happened, so you weren't in the room when it was broken into.

The time on the laptop screen read '11:07', meaning that, if you were merely an observer of the day's events, a copy of your past self should run through the door, complaining about the rain, throw off their hoodie and change it for a thicker raincoat. Then, they should grab their laptop and leave again.

Right on time, the front door swung open and your past self stumbled through the door, stripping off their hoodie and throwing it onto the spare bed to your left.

'Stupid rain,' past-you seethed, rummaging through a wardrobe, 'making me late for Dr Harris' class again.'

You got to your feet, making your way over to the doorway that separated the bedroom from the small kitchen-living room (that also housed the front door and the bathroom). You weren't gonna lie, past-you looked a mess. With creased clothes and dead eyes, it was obvious that you hadn't slept properly in days. Past-you looked a little on the thin side, too.

Did I always look that bad? you wondered. Sure, you remembered staying up late to finish various assignments, and forgetting to eat a proper meal and drink the recommended amount of water became a common occurrence, but you had never realised how much you looked like a walking corpse.

Your past self walked right through you when they went to retrieve the laptop, and walked back through you on their way out, muttering under their breath. You watched them slam the door shut, locking it behind them.

'Interesting,' you mused, 'so I did lock the door.'

You sat back down on the bed, waiting for the thief to appear. Someone walking past your room had told the police about rummaging noises at roughly 11:20, so all you had to do was linger around your room until that time.

You decided to spend the time wisely and reflect on what had happened since moving in to your house. You never expected to become close friends with EJ—even when you had first waited for him on your front doorsteps with a rounders bat. You had thought that he would either ignore you completely or kill you on the spot. The evolution of your friendship (and the development of your feelings) had been completely unprecedented. How were you to know that you'd find yourself slowly falling for the person who had once scared you; spending time with him and learning what he was like as a person had helped you get over that.

You sighed, then immediately cringed in repulsion. God. Do not start sounding like some love-stricken protagonist in a romance novel that hasn't had a date before and thinks relationships are a walk in the park.

It was a bit harsh for you to insult said protagonist for not going on a date before, because you hadn't either; you'd never been in a relationship before because you'd never cared about it. Your priorities growing up had been: good grades, a good job, a nice place to live, enough money to be comfortable. Never had you seriously considered where romance would fall in that list, and it cringed you out to be finally thinking about it.

The sound of a window creaking open and a gust of cold, November air whipping into the room brought you back to reality (or, whatever realm you were trapped in). You turned your head to look at the opening window, eyebrows furrowing when you saw EJ crawling into the room, oblivious to your presence.

'What are you doing here, EJ...?'

haha new chapter go brrr

in all seriousness tho—i'm writing loads because i'm stuck on what to write for my gay angst story so yeah! i'm gonna try a bit harder with this one