Chapter Forty-Two

This had to stop, you decided.

You had gone to your room and sat idly at your bed as your brain was overloading with thoughts of things you'd rather ignore. The truth was that you were losing yourself and that you didn't know what to do about it.

At the core of it, it didn't really matter. You loved everyone and it didn't matter. The loved you and it just didn't matter. You'd like to know the truth of this place, but even if you did, what would that change? Do you even want it to change?

Part of you urged yourself to seek the truth in honor of Jenna, but that, like all other things, held no real consequence. Dead people are dead, their wishes mean nothing in reality.

You were dead, according to everything you had been told—according to Quince. You loved Quince; he was kind when others were not...he was sweet no matter what. That being said, you were sure he was hiding things from you. You wanted to crush the echo in your mind—but does that even matter? It asked for the hundredth time.

Nothing is real except in the way it affects you. Love is a fake idea except for the fact that it affects your life. That's kinda dumb but you can't explain it in any other way. The way things are all both real and incredibly unreal and how you can't count on anything to be certain other than the fact that you have consciousness.

Well—you do until you don't. Is to be alive to be conscious? Is this not death at all, rather just another chapter in life? Why weren't you allowed to know?

...could you find out if you tried?

.x.x.x.x.x.

Quince felt a weird mix of peace and anxiety—two very contradictory feelings filling his mind. He felt like things were really working, but now that they were, he didn't know what exactly to do. He truly hadn't planned much farther ahead than this point. Ryo was supposed to be keeping an eye on you right now, but Quince was sure he had let you have the alone time you clearly desired. For now, that is.

You see, Quince had actually been lying the whole time, but you guys probably knew that already, right? You were really all dead—or at least, not in the state of living you were on Earth.

Houses weren't where people usually went, actually. He did partially make that up. Most everyone in the group of not-very old and not-very-good or bad got sent to one central purgatory-like place. They could generally do as they pleased, within good reason, and live in commune with whatever community arose.

Quince wasn't ever like you all. He was a higher-up. Not a connection to them, one of them.

He had watched you sometimes while you were on Earth, and he loved you very very much. Maybe it was just because he had seen you by chance and then let watching you turn into a habit, or maybe it was meant to be—either way. when he gave you that slight push into traffic, you had suddenly become the sole owner of his heart.

He had tried to connect with you in the normal purgatory-esque area you had landed in, but it didn't quite work. You had liked him, sure, but there were so many other people around you that you had formed friendships with far more people than he had ever anticipated.

He was a higherup which gave him some level of power—not infinite, but enough.

He took away some memories and tried again—tried to make you think you had to spend the majority of your time with him as a precautionary measure. Like the first time, that had worked for a time until it didn't, and you saw him as a secondary person to all the other people around you.

He tried again, this time after he had devised a place to lock you away in with just him.

He was allowed to do these things, to an extent. The one stipulation was that he was required to always have a way out—always some door back to the normal purgatory everyone else was. Every other wretched person who dared to look at you. He hated that stipulation—it was the sole destroyer in all of his trials. He tried again again again again again again againand nothing seemed to stick! He was still happy for the times you turned your affection towards him, but it never lasted for the eternity he had envisioned. You always walked out the door, and he always had to fetch you.

He thought this was starting to work, but would it keep working when it was just you two? Would you still like him after he tossed the others out?

Would you love him if he loved you tenderly, forever beginning now? For eternity until the end of time? He'd love you, even if he had to repeat this forever. He knew it was already wearing on your brain—you hallucinated and crumbled on occasion. He felt bad about it, but he'd love you even if he broke you. He'd love you even if you melted away.

If you stopped being, then he would too. That was a simple truth of who Quince was.

There truly was a death beyond this one—a loss of consciousness—he hadn't lied about that. If you reached that, through some unfortunate twist of fate, then he'd follow you there. He'd walk into nothing with you if that's where you went. Would it be conceivable for you to ever feel the same?

.x.x.x.x.x.

You knew where the attic was—you didn't know what it was. You were feeling a little jittery—a little afraid, but some part of you was pulled to it. Did Jenna really walk in there and melt away? Is that what happened to Don?

Did you believe that?

You didn't, you decided, you really didn't—it didn't make sense! And if it really was the destruction of this world and into the next, then you could grieve that after the fact, couldn't you?

A part of you thought you were crazy for that, but you also couldn't find it in yourself to sit idly any longer. You loved them, yes, but if everyone was going to disappear one by one, you might as well join the fucking party.

You had made it to the room, without interruption—which was good, because if you had been stopped on the way, you probably wouldn't have the guts to follow through with your plan. Your plan that you desperately hoped wasn't suicide.

You stood there, for a few moments, looking at the doorknob. It was the same feeling you got when you stared aimlessly at a video game all alone. You were going to do it, you wanted to do it, you just needed a few minutes to stare and feel empty.

You reached for the doorknob when you heard the door behind you slam open—"Wait!"

You swiftly turned around, only to be crushed in an embrace. "...Quince?" you spoke your voice muffled in his chest. He released you and took a few steps back.

"What are you doing?" He spoke fervently, the expression on his face filling you with guilt.

"I-I'm finding out what's on the other side of this door," you spoke shakily.

"You already know!" he cried, grabbing one of your hands.

"I don't!" you responded sharply, hating to have to be upset. "I only know what you've told me..."

"Do you think I'm lying?!" His voice got more erratic, tears threatening to stream out of his face, "You'll turn into dust, please, please believe me."

"I want to!" you responded, you eyes pricking like his, "B-but I can't! I need to see—"

"See what?! Nothing? Nothing forever and ever?" He finally broke down and pulled you back into him, crying. "Please don't, (y/n), I can't lose you. I'm getting tired, so tired, of doing all of this. I want it to be over...I want you to stay with me."

"...what are you talking about?" You asked, confusion taking place of your guilt.

"Can't you just give in and let me have you...?" he mumbled into your hair, squeezing you tighter.

"...Quince..?"

He suddenly went slack, pulling away from you, and looking at you with an apathetic face. "It's too late, isn't it? Even if I stopped you this time, you'd find your way back eventually and jump right through...just like you always do."

"Explain?" you tried again, begging for any sort of indication to what he could possibly be thinking, what information that you certainly weren't privy to.

"And even if I locked you up, you'd find a way out or you'd end up hating me," he sighed. You stayed silent until he pushed you against the door and you let out a yelp of surprise.

He kissed you softly—tenderly as he always did. You didn't understand anything he had said, and frankly, his ramblings were unsettling, but you still loved him. You'd kiss him back if that's what he needed right now.

You two fit together and it felt like summer air, in a way. Was that really a good description? It didn't matter, you felt warm with him.

He pulled away and his expression frightened you—he looked like a strange mix of anger and emptiness.

"Quince?"

"If you're going to go, then go," he spoke, pulling you away from the door and opening it—one hand latched onto the collar of your shirt. Your terror grew—somehow being forced in was much scarier.

"Wait, wa—"

"No, I'll come to get you later. Have fun in the emptiness you so desperately want," he spoke curtly until his expression softened. "I...really thought it'd all work out this time. I'll miss this version of you, you know?" You had stopped trying to make sense of it, your brain too jumbled to even ask.

"I'd never want to hurt you, (y/n). Why do you seem so insistent on hurting me?" he looked pitifully into your eyes before shoving you through and slamming the door behind you.

.x.x.x.x.x.

.x.x.x.x.x.

You open your eyes to a room you aren't familiar with. The walls are covered in dark gray paneling and the carpet is black. You notice that you have no shoes which seems odd. Actually, this is really odd. How did you get here?

You were alone in the room, which was unsettling. At least—you thought you were until you turned around and saw a man sitting idly on a chair. He seemed to notice you and he met your gaze.

"Sorry for the hold up," he sighed. "I'm usually not late to these sorts of things. I'm sure you're a bit nervous, So I'll let you ask some questions and then I'll give you a basic rundown of what's going on"

"Oh... Who are you?... and where am I?"

"I'm Quince, and you're dead."