NO FEAR [OPEN]

[tigermillionaire]

Who: Steven and anybody in the Defying Atmosphere penthouse.
What: Greg is rewarded with a slightly used pet child.
When: About 24 hours after the SC concert where he gets kidnapped.
Where: DA's penthouse in Virgo HQ.
Warnings: There is a laundry list of things wrong with this situation.

No matter the intention, the violence of being kidnapped leaves a mark on a person, and that's the lingering anxiety that Steven feels now. He was pulled away from his life once again, as terrible as it might have been. He was manhandled, drugged, and dragged off somewhere else, even as he pleaded, for fear of angering his keepers again.

There was a period of claustraphobic darkness followed by a time where blinding white is all he can remember. And then, suddenly, he finds himself here...a penthouse that is totally unfamiliar to him, and is told that he's going to be with his dad now.

He doesn't know if he can believe it, or what he should do. So, once he's left alone, all he does is curl himself up on one of the couches and wait. He's been dressed in fresh clothing, simple in comparison to anything he's made a habit of wearing - the flashes of pink cracklines are still bright on his exposed skin.

He has no control over anything anymore. He may as well stop pretending.

Comments

[panspermia]

That encouragement sinks, hard and cold, into Greg's stomach. Yeah, see, Sans is fine. Sans believes in him, trusts him to do the right thing. That's what he's doing now. It's all for good in the end. Sans is some sort of expert on magic, so Greg should trust him on this; it feels like a curse now, but maybe it really is a blessing in disguise. He can be like--

A cannon glowing pink, lifted by the boy's small frame--a little face at the end of the hand--an impenetrable shield holding out the ocean as they drive--a warm, wet spot slapped down on his leg, before the pain disappears--an expansive swarm of melons, covering the whole street--

Greg stares into the middle distance, overwhelmed. Finally, slowly, he sinks his face into his hands again. "Ah.... haha.... uhh. Man. I've never been good at more than one thing before."

[exhumerus]

"Technically speaking, it is still just one thing," he says, lifting his hands in a shrug. "Music is music whether you're doing magic at the same time or not, am I right? Think of it as expanding your repertoire."

"Besides..." he says a moment later, a bit less lightly. "If this is what they brought us here for...then it might just've been inevitable."

[panspermia]

Sans' advice can hardly be called reassuring, but there's something to it. Greg's been trying hard to think what he could have done differently to prevent this, and while a few options are clear, things do seem to have been moving in this direction regardless.

Greg had once joked at Sans that if he started caring about fame more than music, he'd need to be offed. He felt like this might be worse.

Slowly, he sinks down to the floor. "Whatever it is, I fell right into their trap."

[exhumerus]

He did, didn't he?

Sans watches Greg sink down to the ground, his attempts at desperate positivity dying within him, those defensive walls already starting to crumble. He knows what his instincts have been telling him, ever since Frisk offered their warning. Greg is susceptible, they have leverage against him, and the guys never been a fighter, even at the best of times. Sans has always been good at reading people, and he knows there's something that Greg isn't telling him.

Kid just showing up out of nowhere...yeah, right. Stupid.

He doesn't know that Greg is deceiving him, but he feels like he might as well. No matter what's between the lines, there's something. This can't possibly go well. It was never going to go well. Even if they haven't pulled him in yet...

The dread that'd been building within him all month manifests with a sudden sharpness in his gut. Greg will just keep lying to him, and he'll just keep lying to Greg by pretending he doesn't know.

But they both know by now, don't they? The person they remember doesn't exist. They never really have.

"I died so many years ago.
You have made me feel like it isn't so..."

He starts singing without really having any idea why, the emotional intensity of his realization just kind of...coming out? In the moment, he feels no need to stop it, either. Sans doesn't sing often, especially like this, his voice quiet and rough but easily on key.

"But, why you couldn't come to me,
I think I kinda know."

He's not looking at him as he speaks (sings?), his gaze settled into the space in front of him. Guitar plays from nowhere.

"You're scared, prepared to cut a deal.
Tryin' to protect the ones you love,
No matter what they feel.
Can't blame you when it comes to it,
'Cause none of this was real..."

[panspermia]

This time, he realizes the singing is happening, though it fails to strike him as strange so much as different; a perfectly natural, musical state. For a moment he wonders if he's causing it, but no. This is just how people communicate, after all.

"Sans..."

Too many things have happened at once for Greg to dwell on these details, but the knowledge has been lying in wait in the back of his consciousness. The older man he used to be, the undead being Sans is turning into... there's no way those both could have existed, and also the friendship they shared long ago. One reality has to get ruined to make room for two more.

"Of... of course it's real. We're real. We're here."

He can't trust anything about himself anymore: not his past, not his thoughts, not his actions. It's better if no one trusts him, right now. In spite of that, he has to be able to trust something. He has to be able to trust his friend.

[exhumerus]

Sans cuts in again, continuing the song as he stands and turns to face him, a sharp look in his eye.

"That's great.
But I don't wanna play.
'Cause knowing you here touches me,
More than I can say..."

Except...he's saying it right now? The absurdity of the action, the violation of his inner life, doesn't even occur to him. He just keeps saying what he's thinking to the music, as it begins to grow heated.

"And since I'm doomed to hinder you,
You should really stay away-
And let me rest in peace."

Ah, yes. Now...now they are in the shit. The fact that he's moving to the music is subtle, but it's happening. Just as he begins what sounds like the chorus, he suddenly teleports in front of Greg, his hands tucked in his pockets.

"Let me rest in peace,
Let me get some sleep,
Let me take my love and bury it
In a hole six foot deep.
I can lay my body down,
But I can't find my sweet release-"

He turns from him then, stalking back across the room, his shoulders hunched and tense.

"So let me rest in peace."

[panspermia]

Greg gulps at air. It's a few brief words, a couple simple sentences, yet it carries so much with it. How can he respond all at once? When did things get so complicated?

"I don't know what to say... I can't force you to stay. This isn't how I thought that we might part... this isn't what I wanted at the start."

There's a cadence to Greg's words, without fully breaking the way into music. He can't organize his thoughts fast enough to give a good answer. Maybe yhere isn't one. He huddles against the wall.

"Maybe this can work out. Can't claim I don't have doubts... It's better if this could protect your heart. This isn't what I wanted at the start. "