Archive of Our Own ^beta

It should've been another boring day, according to Whole.

Obviously, it's never been "quiet" inside his head. He's always used to the frequent bickering, although it's not always anything serious. Or so he thinks. He's not one to participate in those conflicts, though. Every once in a while, he'd check on his 'sulking halves,' or so he'd like to call them.

He didn't talk to them for a while, actually. Last time he did, he was not in the right mood for it. He's never been the social type, and to be fair, he's only ever had one wish when he's around his halves: to be alone.

Although, he noticed that today, whatever day that was, was the perfect time to talk with his 'friends' (as if the feeling was mutual) once again. There was a wooden door, wherever that could be, to separate him from the other three.

Subconciously, he opened the door. "Hey, guys," was the only thing he came up with before he was hit with the realization.

No one was there.

And so, Harmonia finally remembered. This was what he wanted, that same feeling of serenity, according to him at least. He specifically wanted to spend time being one. Though, even if that was what he wanted, he still feels a strange case of loneliness.

He managed to grasp his hand on a single sheet of paper lying on the floor. Picking it up, he tried to read the handwriting, although he's not quite skilled when it comes to reading, he could say so.

As it turns out, not much was written in the paper.

'Whole's fault.' It was written in capital letters, with a pen that beared a nearly dried ink. He wasn't sure who wrote that. Hell, even if he found out, it wouldn't matter. He just stared at the paper in horror. Makes him wonder, what happened to his halves? When they all fall asleep, where do they go? Harmonia couldn't help but ask himself.

"What the fuck did I do to him?" He questioned himself, not that anyone could hear him. He couldn't tell, it might be confusion, but it could also be guilt. He didn't know who was he referring to, either. He just didn't like being alone, that was all he knew.

There's not much he could do in a situation like this.

Hesitant, he slid the paper back onto the floor and steadied his jacket. Making sure no one was around, he cleared his throat. He sat down on the floor, not knowing what else there was to do.

"I can't lose you guys again..." he muttered to himself, "I've already lost so much."

Truthfully, he did want a sense of serenity, but he didn't want to be alone. Whole was, in fact, being picky. He'd possibly need to wait days, weeks, sometimes even months for a feeling of comfort from another person (although, not quite).

When he's not talking to them, whether that be for a day or forever, it's strange seeing them. They would look at him, and he'd try to look away. Whole probably owes them an apology, doesn't he?

He's trapped in the walls of loneliness.

"Fuck."