[Seriously? Said kid looks up at him with beady eyes, clearly unimpressed when his motions pull the blankets down from where they were quite contentedly covering their face.
No 'sorry for waking you', this time. They'd stopped after he'd spent at least two hours one night teasing them relentlessly for it.]
Grit sits up abruptly, staring at him. Their eyes, for once, are actually wide. Brown. Their eyes are brown. People say they're pretty hard to see, most of the time.
Serif's aren't, so much. He barely ever closes them. And his face is hard to read, but it's not impossible. Not when they knew him. Grit's looking for a joke, but they can't find it.
[Grit, huh? Funny name. Well, that's probably more on the Witch than anyone else. If he were more awake, he'd probably think of a pun on it, but right now that's pretty low on his list of priorities.
There's something funny about the way they're staring at him. It makes him feel like there's something he's missing here. Something big.
Something that should maybe be obvious, but he sure as hell isn't seeing it.]
Name's Serif.
So, kid... [It's said so differently than usual. It's not warm or familiar, it's just... flat. The way he'd use it for someone he hasn't figured out yet.] ...Heh, you in the next room over or something? Guess everything kinda looks the same at night.
[It comes out before they choke, throat closing up. Please? Please not you? Please, just be joking? Please, come back?
Just please. It doesn't take Grit very long to know that anything else is absolutely meaningless, because anything else never mattered much before. It never does. And even if this time there's...
There's so much more to lose here that their eyes are welling up with tears, that doesn't mean they can do anything about it. Can't even remember their last SAVE; promised to stop doing that. Promised to stop trying to fix it all alone.
They feel pretty alone now.]
Nice to meet you. [They eventually get out; it's wobbly and doesn't even sound like them, and it's a lie (a big, fat, horrible lie, because they don't want to meet him again), but they get it out.] I'm sorry, u-um.
I guess- I guess I got-
[Can't even finish that. Have to pause, rub their face. Boy, do they feel stupid right now. Trip said that their wish wasn't just for happy monsters, but happy Grit.
Looks like Serif isn't the only one terrible at promises. Trip's wish didn't amount to much at all.]
[Serif's very confused while he watches them. Yeah, there's definitely something he isn't seeing here, something that would explain what's going on here. Maybe he's just not meant to see it. Sure as hell wouldn't surprise him.]
Heh, it's no problem--
[Wait. Are they crying? It looks like they're trying not to, but he can recognize the signs when they're this obvious.
Oh geez. Oh geez, way to go, Serif, you made a kid cry. He's not sure how he managed that, but clearly something's wrong here. Damn it.]
Whoa, hey, uh... You doing okay there, kiddo? Aw geez...
[They fumble it out, throwing the blankets back and scrambling to let their feet hit the wood floor. They know what they have to do. It doesn't make them happy, but they know what they have to do.
Lie. Not lie, but lie. Serif won't believe anything but the truth...he just doesn't expect all of it.]
I'm just really tired.
[If he had his memories, or someone else asked, there'd be a lot more to it than that. Not just tired, for once. Instead, it kind of feels like they've just been left alone on a mountain all over again. Where's the hole to fall into?]
Really looks, that intent kind of stare that Serif has down to an art. It's the type of stare that would otherwise be used in a private conversation in a nice restaurant, or in a long, golden hallway. But unlike those times, he's flying blind here.
He's missing information. But he has no clue what kind.]
Well, don't sweat it, kiddo. Heh, I sure have ended up in some weird places when I'm tired, so I can't judge.
[Once upon a time, Grit would have squirmed beneath that look.
They don't even twitch. They don't even have a problem meeting his gaze; if anything, his quiet judgement seems to steady them. Like they know what he's doing. Like they've been through that before.]
You should go back to sleep.
[And just like that, they're turning away. It hurts (it will never, ever not hurt) but their voice is even enough, at least.]
The moment they're out the door, Grit just- stands there, for a while. Stock still. When they finally do move, it's not to anywhere in particular. Just away from the door, so no one trips over them. That's where they sit- against the wall, too afraid to speak up. Too afraid to call for help.
Cup's gone. Away in solitary confinement; to train, get better. The details are vague but the lack of presence is there. Seemingly out of nowhere, Serif doesn't remember them. And maybe he's not the only one. Maybe everyone's forgotten them; all RESET without even the slightest vibration on the wind telling Grit that something's very, very wrong.
Usually, there's a lot of rooms they could go to. A lot of people who might have comforted them, or hugged them. Made them feel like it was okay, they could get through this. Things would get worse and better, like they always do.
But Grit's too afraid. They can't find their voice. They can't even find any tears. More than anything, they want Serif to walk through that door, and take them for some hot chocolate. It's not going to happen, though. What's that wording, again?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
-gets a train- get in Rem we're going to hell
No 'sorry for waking you', this time. They'd stopped after he'd spent at least two hours one night teasing them relentlessly for it.]
I know; it's late. Don't tell mom.
[And back under the covers they go.]
but what if i'm already in hell
Uh, kid?
[He doesn't wanna be a jerk to some random sleepy child, but geez...]
Did you, uh... go into the wrong room or something?
then we're going to double hell. Hell squared.
Grit sits up abruptly, staring at him. Their eyes, for once, are actually wide. Brown. Their eyes are brown. People say they're pretty hard to see, most of the time.
Serif's aren't, so much. He barely ever closes them. And his face is hard to read, but it's not impossible. Not when they knew him. Grit's looking for a joke, but they can't find it.
They can't find anything at all.]
...M-maybe? Um...
[Deep breath. They just have to-
They have to see- see what happens.]
I'm um. My name's Grit.
...What's yours?
okay yeah that sounds about right
There's something funny about the way they're staring at him. It makes him feel like there's something he's missing here. Something big.
Something that should maybe be obvious, but he sure as hell isn't seeing it.]
Name's Serif.
So, kid... [It's said so differently than usual. It's not warm or familiar, it's just... flat. The way he'd use it for someone he hasn't figured out yet.] ...Heh, you in the next room over or something? Guess everything kinda looks the same at night.
no subject
[It comes out before they choke, throat closing up. Please? Please not you? Please, just be joking? Please, come back?
Just please. It doesn't take Grit very long to know that anything else is absolutely meaningless, because anything else never mattered much before. It never does. And even if this time there's...
There's so much more to lose here that their eyes are welling up with tears, that doesn't mean they can do anything about it. Can't even remember their last SAVE; promised to stop doing that. Promised to stop trying to fix it all alone.
They feel pretty alone now.]
Nice to meet you. [They eventually get out; it's wobbly and doesn't even sound like them, and it's a lie (a big, fat, horrible lie, because they don't want to meet him again), but they get it out.] I'm sorry, u-um.
I guess- I guess I got-
[Can't even finish that. Have to pause, rub their face. Boy, do they feel stupid right now. Trip said that their wish wasn't just for happy monsters, but happy Grit.
Looks like Serif isn't the only one terrible at promises. Trip's wish didn't amount to much at all.]
no subject
Heh, it's no problem--
[Wait. Are they crying? It looks like they're trying not to, but he can recognize the signs when they're this obvious.
Oh geez. Oh geez, way to go, Serif, you made a kid cry. He's not sure how he managed that, but clearly something's wrong here. Damn it.]
Whoa, hey, uh... You doing okay there, kiddo? Aw geez...
[He has no idea how to handle sad kids.]
no subject
[They fumble it out, throwing the blankets back and scrambling to let their feet hit the wood floor. They know what they have to do. It doesn't make them happy, but they know what they have to do.
Lie. Not lie, but lie. Serif won't believe anything but the truth...he just doesn't expect all of it.]
I'm just really tired.
[If he had his memories, or someone else asked, there'd be a lot more to it than that. Not just tired, for once. Instead, it kind of feels like they've just been left alone on a mountain all over again. Where's the hole to fall into?]
no subject
Really looks, that intent kind of stare that Serif has down to an art. It's the type of stare that would otherwise be used in a private conversation in a nice restaurant, or in a long, golden hallway. But unlike those times, he's flying blind here.
He's missing information. But he has no clue what kind.]
Well, don't sweat it, kiddo. Heh, I sure have ended up in some weird places when I'm tired, so I can't judge.
no subject
They don't even twitch. They don't even have a problem meeting his gaze; if anything, his quiet judgement seems to steady them. Like they know what he's doing. Like they've been through that before.]
You should go back to sleep.
[And just like that, they're turning away. It hurts (it will never, ever not hurt) but their voice is even enough, at least.]
Good night, d- Serif.
no subject
But that doesn't mean he doesn't find it weird when the kid is so cool under pressure. Way too cool. It's like they've done it before.
But that's impossible, right?]
...Huh.
[It's a weird night.]
...
Yeah, sure.
[Something's not adding up and he hates that he can't place it.]
You rest up too.
no subject
...
The moment they're out the door, Grit just- stands there, for a while. Stock still. When they finally do move, it's not to anywhere in particular. Just away from the door, so no one trips over them. That's where they sit- against the wall, too afraid to speak up. Too afraid to call for help.
Cup's gone. Away in solitary confinement; to train, get better. The details are vague but the lack of presence is there. Seemingly out of nowhere, Serif doesn't remember them. And maybe he's not the only one. Maybe everyone's forgotten them; all RESET without even the slightest vibration on the wind telling Grit that something's very, very wrong.
Usually, there's a lot of rooms they could go to. A lot of people who might have comforted them, or hugged them. Made them feel like it was okay, they could get through this. Things would get worse and better, like they always do.
But Grit's too afraid. They can't find their voice. They can't even find any tears. More than anything, they want Serif to walk through that door, and take them for some hot chocolate. It's not going to happen, though. What's that wording, again?
⚹But nobody came.]