Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter One : The Rooms

Sometimes, life can be hard to predict. 

Sure, you think you have everything figured out, and then more happens. More goes wrong. It gets overwhelming and when you break, it feels like the end of the world. 

It’s a lot different when you’re lost.

“Hello?” A voice calls out from one of the many yellow rooms, stained carpet on the floor. Much different when you genuinely have no idea where you are. 

“Am I alone here?” The same voice, belonging to a black haired boy with a plain white tee and a dark blue sweatshirt questions empty air. No responses. Holding a camera in his hands, he curses under his breath, checking his knees for bruises. Supposedly, he’d fallen out of the ceiling. 

We don’t know that yet though.

His already scraped knees now had a swollen red mark, inflamed from the far drop. Muttering under his breath again, he checks his backpack. Rummaging through the pack, he keeps count of what he has in it. A half empty water bottle, some neosporin, Advil, and a few granola bars. 

He would beat himself up over not having brung more, but it was hard to know how, why, or when he would’ve even gotten here. One of the next things he noticed was how disgusting it smelt. Feeling the carpet revealed that some unevenly colored sections were damper than others. He cringed at the sight, before looking upwards.

He fell. That’s what happened. 

Why was he in a building now?

It was hard to miss the electrical whirring in the background, and how eerie it was. That was the last thing on his mind though. His mind was mainly bombarded by worrisome thoughts such as, “Where am I?” or “Where did my friends go?” and more importantly, “What in hell just happened?”

He sat for a moment. And then another. Too many moments.

In a low, quiet voice, he murmered to himself, “No ones coming to get me, are they.” It was less a question, and more an affirmation he’d put in his own mind. The camera continued rolling, occasionally being disturbed by the uneven electromagnetic fields causing the lights to stay on. He sat up, little motivation to go but what else could’ve he really done?

His feet carried himself unwillingly, letting him explore the area. 

It was quieter than life had ever been as well. No human voices, no birds, no anything. Just the quiet whirring in the background and the sound of muffled footsteps. He paused for a brief moment, paranoid that someone was following him. Alas, there was no noise besides what he was creating.

Shaking his head, he zipped up his hoodie slightly. The room was weird, because it wasn’t hot. Nor was it cold. It was so level and perfect it was irritating. He scratched his arm uncomfortably, before looking over to a wall. The wall was different from the others, however, since it had markings covering it. 

Arrows pointing in a specific direction. 

Maybe that was the exit. The man rushed towards the area before stopping, a paper taped to a wall catching his eye. In a hesitant moment, he walked back, over towards the wall bearing the note. It was handwritten very messily, though the ravenette could read it. It said;

If you are reading this note, you should be glad to know you are not alone here. I don’t know exactly how I got here, or if anyone in the past has gotten here, all I know is that I’ve wandered this place for hours and it just doesn’t seem to end. There’s an elevator in the direction I marked with arrows. I'm still skeptical on trying to go up, but I think it’s probably my best bet of getting out of here. It stinks like mold, and if I stay here any longer, I don’t think I’ll be able to live. I need food, and water. My supply emptied two hours ago and I think I’m starting to hear my own thoughts speaking to me. 

And reader, if you do make it out, make the most of your life. I don’t know if I can handle this place much longer. I’d like to know maybe I helped someone out for once in my life. 

—Cellbit

The black haired man put down the note, looking towards where the arrows were pointing once more. 

An elevator was his best bet for now, but whether he’d actually decide to take it or not was a different story. Would it even take him home? Or would it just be another floor of these mad infinite seeming rooms. He held his breath, before deciding to look around just a bit longer before making his final decision. 

Ten more minutes, he promised himself before scouring the place for others, maybe objects to help him out. Thirst hit him suddenly, and he was caught between the decision of ignoring his current thirst, or giving in and potentially risking not getting replenished later.

Screw it. 

He took out the small bottle to take a small sip, letting the life bleed through him once again. Closing it contently, he shoved it back in his backpack pocket for now. And then, he walked.

And walked.

And it occurred to him. 

How broken time was in this place.

He didn’t know if it’d been minutes, or hours.

All he knew was that he was determined.

And tired.

Always so so tired.

But he believed he could make it out. 

—

Elsewhere, a young girl sat in a field, picking flowers and smelling the breeze. She waited patiently, looking up at the sky which was a beautiful medley of oranges, pinks, and blues. It didn’t sit right with her. Because as the clock ticked, and she counted the seconds, the sun did all but grow darker, or disappear. 

It sat with her, a taunt of sorts in all its confusing beauty. 

“Why isn’t the sun going down?” 

She wrote in her journal, calmly. Throughout the course of her writing, she kept looking back at the pretty clouds. 

“Why aren’t the clouds moving?”

There were lots of questions she had, but she didn’t move. Since she’d gotten to this field, she’d stayed put. She believed she knew her way home, but it had not yet occurred to her that she wasn’t in the fields of her grandfather's home anymore. 

But we don’t know that yet.

Laying on her back, she exhaled, stressing the functionality of her world. She was wrong so often, but this time, she knew something else was off. The sun always went down. What was happening.

And though the girl wasn’t particularly scared, she still was able to realize something about this day, this place was off. Maybe she’d finally got lost. Maybe she’d finally humbled herself, as other people would try to explain to her she didn’t know everything. Anything.

But she knew she’d figure it out soon. She was determined to. 

Finally sitting up from her seat in the tall grass, she wiped away the dirt from her dress and held her journal close to her. Maybe it was time to go home. Maybe grandfather was right about life becoming more confusing at night. Maybe she needed to sleep more, and take care of herself better.

But she chose to ignore all but the journey home. The sun was still out, dancing behind her like it was daytime. It wasn’t. It was supposed to go away a long time ago. Crickets still chirped as they would do, but there was no singing from the birds. They had chosen not to use their gift tonight.

Everything about this evening was so off to the girl. 

And as she kept walking, realization slowly, yet surely started to hit her. She’d just been completely opposite to the hill she was currently on. She was sure of it. Glancing backwards in a swift action, her hand clutched to her journal more tightly. She was on the hill she was looking at. But that wasn’t logical.

To test her theory, she left her journal on the hill, before running across the field of flowers back to the mirroring hill. Chills crept down her back as she approached it. Her journal. That she’d left on the other hill. 

She glanced around nervously, hoping she wasn’t just being tricked into acting like a fool. There was no sign of anyone else around though.

Her hand reached downwards to pick up the journal, and when she opened it, she saw the entry she’d written minutes prior. No one else could’ve known that. 

No one.

And it was odd for a few minutes. An hour. However long she’d stayed out in that field, gazing among the daisies and wildflowers. 

Magic isn't real. This wasn’t magic.

If anything, this was a twisted glitch in the world that made people go insane. Even then, most stories were just hoaxes. 

So it left a few questions unanswered. 

Where was she, and what was she gonna do?

—

“This isn’t real.” A brunette spoke, laying against the ill yellow walls with a psychotic grin. “No it’s not, you’re right. I’m just in a dream.” He agreed with himself, before chuckling softly. It was confusing, but he had to figure out what was happening somehow.

“Yeah, you think I’m losing my mind yet?” He asked no one, expecting some sort of answer. The light’s flickered off and on in a second, but aside from that, it was barren and boring. 

“Oh I know you’re messing with me now. Do that again, I dare you.” 

The lights, coincidentally, flickered again.  

“So I’m not crazy, there’s something clearly wrong with this place and I just want to find out what happened before I die. I know sometime soon, I’ll probably die. I have no backpack, no water, no nothing! How great is that!” The brunette sat up, before leaning against the elevator. 

“God. I’m talking to myself and a wall. How’s that for sane?” 

Not very sane. The Voice said, disturbing the man's thoughts. 

“And now I think they’re answering me. Tell me, how many hours do I have left? I wanna try to learn how to do a backflip.”

It depends. You’re probably done for if no one finds you. The Voice responds, no sign of humanity in the depiction. 

“Backflip time? Is that what you're suggesting?”

The Voice said nothing.

“Bring me to a bridge, then maybe I’ll jump off it. That would be more entertaining– something to your liking– suffering!”

Again, there was no answer. 

The man, now wrapping his arms around his legs in a sitting position, didn’t smile anymore. Instead, he said slowly. “I don’t know what I’ve done this time… but this is the last place I would’ve seen myself ending up because of some– mistake which I don’t know what is.”

His head hit against the painted walls of the room. “The worst part is that I don’t even have anyone to talk to. It’s just me. I could be thinking this and nothing else would change.” He continued rambling underneath his breath, before hearing the elevator ding, and slide open. 

Looking around the corner, he exhaled in confusion. “Maybe this will take me to that bridge.” 

Then, footsteps came. Soft but audible throughout the many rooms of the area. The man paused, adjusting his glasses before leaning against the wall. Blood rushed to his head as he did so, and he awaited which he hoped wasn’t a creature. 

Honestly, he didn’t expect anything less. 

Instead, a boy with black hair and a white tee walked in, blue sweatshirt tied around his waist. They both paused, unsure if what each of them saw was legitimate.

“Are you real?” The brunette asked, lighting up in the eyes. 

The ravenette slowly nodded, anxious from the fears that bombarded his mind for such a long time. 

“Do you have a name?”

“Call me Quackity. Who are you?”

The brunette could have chuckled in delight at the answer. “I’m Charlie. Do you know the way out?” Q shook his head, before glancing behind Charlie. 

“I think that’s probably our best bet.” 

The two crept up to the elevator, open in all its glory and awaiting people to travel onwards from this horrible place. Though the space inside was an imperfect triangle, it looked a lot bigger on the inside. They both, hesitantly, gathered inside the triangle elevator. 

“Pray for the best?” Quackity asked, hovering his finger over the button that had been glowing a dull yellowish color with a camera still rolling in the other hand.

“Expect the worst.” Charlie braced himself, holding on a handlebar bulging out from the elevator. 

Quackity then pressed the button. Nothing happened at first. Then it started to

close, and move upwards, downwards, hell if any of them knew. But they were certainly moving. And hopefully they won't be back anytime soon.

But we don’t know that yet. 

—--

Chapter Text

Chapter Two : The Shoreline

It had been the length of a full night by now. A brunette girl still stood on top of a hill, writing and drawing. 

The situation she was in was pretty bad, she could agree. 

But for once , it was almost nice not having to worry about anyone's approval or worry. She was in a whole nother world of just beauty, and paused time. Sure, it was still a bit complicated trying to understand how she would ever see anyone again, but for now, it was quiet and secluded.

Crickets still chirped as she scribbled in her journal. 

It did occur to her suddenly, how hungry she was. 

Flipping open the pouch of her backpack, she searched for any kind of food or drink to satisfy her. The bag was mostly crowded with notebooks and pencils, but in a few compartments, she had luckily been able to find a box of Minute Maid juice, and some rice cakes. 

She typically didn’t mind the juice, it wasn’t particularly her favorite but she could’ve gone on for a while about how much she loved rice cakes. Every time she’d go grocery shopping with her grandfather, it was in her nature to practically beg to get some rice cakes.

And typically, they didn’t mind doing that for her. 

Tearing open the plastic Ziploc bag of rice cakes, she selected one, before sitting up. It was crunchy, as always, but it was really the flavor that was to die for. It varied. Sometimes, it would be topped with salty seaweed, and other times, it would’ve been sweet, having a tart apple flavor. 

She didn’t particularly have a preference, they were all just as good as the other. 

Licking her fingertips for crumbs, she noticed something shiny out the corner of her eye. Metallic looking. 

Standing up to get a closer look at the object, she paused, giving a confused glare in the direction. An elevator. Slouching slightly to pick up her bag, she kept eye contact with the elevator. Her head tilted as she looked inside the elevator. It was even more strange how the inside was lit, and the space inside was triangular. 

Part of her longed to go to it, and see where it took her. 

Tumbling down from the hill she’d been sitting on top of for such a long time, she slid against the dirt to break her fall more effectively. The elevator had only one button inside, she observed carefully before checking around it. No one had been here. It was just her and this elevator. 

But she wasn’t typically one to cower and hide. She was daring and adventurous. It didn’t show in her school performance, but it sure showed whenever she felt daring, and she wanted to do something that would change the way people saw her. Made people think she was more than just a dumb girl.

So when she’d stepped into the elevator, she let herself forget how much people worried for her and influenced her in directions she really didn’t want to go in. 

Tallulah. 

She affirmed in her mind. 

That’s who she was. 

She pressed down the glowing button of the elevator before exhaling. 

—

When the elevator opened, Charlie and Q were quick to observe that they were not anywhere near home. Instead, they ended up on a small island with towels, much sand, and plenty of fruit. Charlie glanced at the other, with a relieved glint in his eyes.

“This isn’t home but this’ll do.” Without any prior warning, he plucked a mango from the bunch in a straw basket and took a bite. The flesh was sweet, and juicy with just the perfect amount of sourness. Charlie didn’t even bother taking off the skin of the mango, that’s how little he worried. 

Quackity didn’t do anything to show disgust. Instead, he unsealed his own backpack to drink some water. Thirst was really starting to hit him hard. He glanced at the still ocean water. No waves, he thought to himself before flinching. “You alright man? You’ve been pretty quiet.” 

“Yeah, I’m just… skeptical.” 

Charlie shrugged for a quick moment, pulling the fruit from his lips. 

“I think if this weren’t real, all my teeth would be gone by now.” 

“Well–” Quackity started before sitting down on the sand. He sighed, looking to the sky. “Just this whole scenario is odd to me. It feels like a game, and we’re being toyed with. You know?” 

Charlie nodded, absentmindedly. “Have you met The Voice yet?” 

Quackity froze for a good moment, hesitating in an eerie discomfort. 

“Um. No– look, Charlie. How long have you been in here?” 

Charlie laughed with a fake sort of relief. “What do you mean, we’re out now.” 

“I don’t think we are.” 

It was quiet then. There were still no waves on the beach, no rippling water or sounds of birds. Hell, none of them could even recall seeing a seagull. 

“We’re outside.” Charlie reiterated, speaking with more sternness, and confidence in his voice.

“Ch–” 

“Be quiet for a moment. If I had to be honest, I’ve probably been in the last place, for a week. You know how fucking scary that is? Not knowing what’s around and whether you’d be able to find food or not? We’re fine for now, Quackity, so would you just let me live this victory for a moment!” 

Quackity’s mouth snapped closed at the response. 

Charlie continued eating, not bothering to be in denial or not anymore. 

“You’ve been here for a week?” Quackity asked, almost scared by the discovery. Charlie nodded, slowly. “I think so. Time’s kind of been weird lately though.” He explained. Quackity sat down in the hot sand, thoughtfully. Drifting his fingertips across the scorching surface, he sighed. 

“You think we’ll go home?” 

“Soon?” Charlie questioned, with hope.

“Ever.” The ravenette added on after a dramatic pause. 

No one said anything. 

Instead, Quackity started plucking fruit from the basket to place into his backpack. He lay back into the sand, not carefully of whether or not it would get into his hair or not. He mumbled, “How old are you, Charlie?” 

“22.” Charlie said, nonchalantly. He too, sat down in the sand as he finished the mango he’d been practically engulfing. “You?” 

“23.” 

“That’s fun. At least we’re close in age.” Shrugging slightly, Charlie tossed aside the mauled fruit. Picking at the sand in between his fingernails, he paid close attention. The island smelt of ocean, but there were no clouds, no wind, and the water was still, unlike normally where it was turbulent and crazed. 

“Yeah, it’s uh–it’s interesting. I don’t really talk to people my age often, so…” Quackity admitted, subconsciously burying himself in the sand. When he’d realized he was doing so, his hands dropped slightly and he exhaled a long breath. “I don’t blame you. People can be really intimidating in some scenarios.” 

“What are we talking about right now?” Quackity then says, changing the subject quickly.

“Dunno.” Charlie answered, “Should we stop?”

“Maybe.” 

So they sat on the island, one eyeing the elevator out the corner of his eye with a considerately bright glint of want, and the other chowing down on the food like there was no tomorrow. “We should go.” Quackity bit down on his lip after a while, letting the joints in his knuckles snap as he sat up.

“Uh, no, we literally just got here.” Charlie disagrees with his eyebrows furrowed. 

“Do you want to go home?” Quackity said slowly yet sternly. 

“What?”

“Do you want to go home? It really seems like all you’re doing right now is holding me back and I just… I miss people.” Which was unusual for him. When Quackity thought of people he loved, and missed, they weren’t particularly people he would’ve liked seeing. He sat again.

“I don’t know, Quackity. This prevents me, in a way, from ruining things that make others happy. But it doesn’t really seem like you want me here with you anyways.”

“That’s fucked up.” 

Charlie glanced back from his place on the red towel he’d been laying on. 

“What?”

“You really think I hate you? I barely know you.”

That stung.

“But not in that way. In the way that I want to see if I can break my habits. And hey, maybe we can help each other out.” Quackity offered his hand to Charlie, hoping that maybe his words had influenced the other well. 

And Charlie, in a hesitant moment, felt some courage wash over him. The courage that stays, and the courage that overpowers stronger feelings of hatred and sadness. “I bet you did a Ted Talk once.” 

Quackity let himself laugh softly, “Nope. I guess I just know how to get to people.”

Footprints trailed behind them as they walked to the opposite end of the small island, towards a different elevator. They chatted for a while, talking about what they did for a living and passions. Ideas they’d pursue when they went home, hopefully. “Y’know I’m pretty glad I’m not alone anymore.”

Charlie glanced back. Quackity wasn’t there. His heart dropped at the sudden disappearance. “Quackity? What the fuck!” He yelled so distraught and confused, looking around frantically for his friend that he’d seen barely seconds prior. His mouth was agape, dry and dehydrated for answers that he wasn’t sure he’d ever receive. 

Their footprints didn’t show up in the sand, despite Charlie checking.

It was like the world hated him. His own fate.

Quackity felt the same way as he fell for a long time, through a gap that had opened through the floor and closed, him being swallowed up by it. He gasped out for air that didn’t come, before abruptly hitting a pool of water with a foul, burning slap. Lungs deflating, he let his body float on the surface of the water as he bobbed face down.

For minutes. Hours. 

Eventually, a tingly sensation crept up on his back; comfortably similar to someone's delicate caring hands tenderly brushing his back in order to breathe again. And then, it felt like fingers were weaving in through his hair to ease him upwards, and awake. 

Alive. His eyes widened open manically. 

The ravenette jolted upwards in a shocked moment, gasping for his breath as he kneeled in the knee deep water. It was silent, except for the subtle yet repetitive echoes throughout the chambers of the pools. He didn’t know which way the sun was; which direction the sunlight had been seeping through the windows. 

For all he knew, it was everywhere. 

His body drew up in a weak attempt, and he practically collapsed against the cold tile walls, bracing himself to look out of the window. It was so bright. It was nearly impossible to look outside without being blinded to the point of tears. He sank down to the floor. A burning pain swept over his chest, most likely from the impact of his body to the water. 

He wished he knew where he was. All Quackity knew now though is that Charlie was gone, and he was really fucking humid in this place. And now his clothes were fucking drenched from being in the water. His face twisted into a grimace as he tried to wring out his shirt, but eventually gave up with a quiet fussy sigh. 

“I gotta rest.” He mumbled to no one, weak from the drop and basically beat. Why did he get seperated from Charlie? What evil tormenting force kept causing such disasters to happen? The camera in his hands kept rolling, in the miraculous event that it didn’t get fucking soaked and ruined. 

It seemed like miraculous things only happened to things that didn’t greatly benefit him. With a sigh and slitted eyes hiding away from the blinding lights, Quackity turned to face his next challenge. He welcomed himself to the rooms, and the rooms welcomed him back. An eerie calling to venture further, getting more lost or giving up one day or the other. 

Quackity stared up from his place on the floor. He didn’t want to move.

—