Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The distant crack of rifles and the rhythmic thudding of boots echoed through the camp as Y/N sat cross-legged in the dirt beside their friend, Corporal Davis. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and gunpowder, a reminder of the relentless training they had endured for days on end. They were soldiers now, but there were moments when they felt more like machines, going through the motions, constantly drilled until the movements became second nature.

Y/N watched the training ground in front of them, where the current group was working through their drills. Each soldier moved in perfect synchronization, raising their rifles, dropping to their knees, and firing in unison. It was mechanical, methodical, and drilled into them over countless hours. And yet, every time Y/N watched it, the same thought lingered in the back of their mind.

"How much more of this do you think we've got?" Y/N muttered, rubbing the back of their neck, the tension building with every hour they spent on the ground.

Corporal Davis shrugged, squinting as he watched the others train. "I don't know, but I'm guessing we're only halfway through. They always push us right to the edge before giving us a break."

"Halfway?" Y/N groaned, dropping their head into their hands. "It feels like we've been at it for weeks. My legs are gonna give out if we keep doing this much longer."

Davis chuckled, nudging Y/N with his elbow. "You'd think you'd be used to it by now. Isn't this what you signed up for?"

"Yeah, well, I didn't sign up to feel like my body's falling apart every day," Y/N grumbled. "You'd think they'd give us more than a few hours of sleep between all this."

The two of them sat in silence for a moment, watching as the next group finished their exercise and lined up, panting and covered in sweat. They were up next, and Y/N could already feel the weight of exhaustion pressing down on them.

Davis stood up first, stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders. "Come on, we better get ready. Can't have Sergeant Hale yelling at us for being too slow."

Y/N followed suit, standing and stretching out their sore muscles. The sun was still high in the sky, beating down on the training ground, making the heat almost unbearable. They both grabbed their rifles and headed toward the line, joining the rest of their squad as they prepared for their turn.

Sergeant Hale stood in front of them, his sharp eyes scanning the group with the precision of a hawk. His face was as hard as stone, showing no signs of the fatigue that was clearly visible on the soldiers in front of him.

"Alright, listen up!" Sergeant Hale barked, his voice cutting through the chatter of the soldiers. "This next drill is going to be about precision and timing. You're going to be working in pairs, covering each other's backs. You don't have time to think, only time to react. Got it?"

"Yes, sir!" the group responded in unison, though Y/N could hear the tiredness in everyone's voice.

Y/N paired up with Davis, as usual, the two of them standing side by side, rifles ready. The sergeant walked them through the movements again, though they'd done it a hundred times before—cover, aim, fire, move. It had become second nature at this point, but Hale wasn't one to let anything slide. Even the smallest misstep would earn a sharp reprimand.

"Alright, on my count. And remember, move as one!" Sergeant Hale's voice was sharp and unyielding. He raised his hand, holding it steady for a brief moment before dropping it quickly. "Go!"

Y/N and Davis moved as if by instinct, dropping to their knees, aiming their rifles at the targets ahead, and firing in unison. The loud crack of gunfire filled the air, and the recoil jolted through Y/N's arms, though they were used to it by now. Without waiting for an order, they both rolled to the side, taking cover behind a small barricade and repeating the process—aim, fire, move.

The rhythm of the exercise was something Y/N had come to expect, almost like a dance that required perfect timing between partners. Davis moved with precision, covering Y/N whenever they needed to reload or adjust their aim. Y/N did the same for him, firing in short bursts and making sure no one was left exposed for too long.

As the drill continued, Y/N's mind began to drift, despite the constant action. They couldn't help but think about how much longer they'd be out here, running the same drills over and over again. The exhaustion was wearing on them, but they couldn't afford to slow down. Not when they knew that real combat wouldn't wait for them to catch their breath.

"Focus!" Davis snapped, his voice breaking through Y/N's thoughts.

Y/N blinked, snapping back to the present. "Sorry," they muttered, adjusting their grip on the rifle and taking aim again.

Sergeant Hale was watching them closely, his eyes narrowing as he paced back and forth. He didn't say anything, but Y/N could feel the weight of his gaze. He was the kind of man who could sense even the slightest hesitation, and Y/N didn't want to give him a reason to call them out.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Hale raised his hand again, signaling the end of the drill. "Alright, that's enough for today," he said, his tone gruff. "You've still got a long way to go, but you're getting there. Dismissed."

Y/N let out a long breath, lowering their rifle and feeling the tension in their body begin to release. Davis patted them on the shoulder, a small grin on his face.

"Not bad," he said. "You didn't freeze up this time."

Y/N rolled their eyes. "I wasn't frozen. Just... thinking."

"Thinking's the last thing you want to be doing out here," Davis said with a laugh. "Just keep moving, keep shooting, and you'll be fine."

The two of them began to walk back toward the barracks, their steps slow and heavy from the day's training. The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the camp.

"How many more days do you think we've got left of this?" Y/N asked, wiping the sweat from their brow.

"Who knows?" Davis replied with a shrug. "Could be a few days, could be weeks. But either way, we'll get through it. We always do."

Y/N nodded, though the weight of exhaustion still hung over them. The thought of more training wasn't exactly appealing, but they knew Davis was right. This was what they had signed up for, after all.

As they reached the barracks, Y/N paused for a moment, glancing back at the training ground. The sound of gunfire had faded, but it still echoed in their ears, a constant reminder of the days ahead. But for now, they'd survived another day.

Y/N let out a soft cough as they walked back to the barracks, the sound catching them off guard. They paused for a second, feeling a strange chill crawl down their spine, as if a draft had crept into their lungs. It was an odd sensation, a fleeting coldness that made them shudder, but they quickly shook it off. It was probably nothing—just the exhaustion from another long day of training.

"You good?" Davis asked, glancing over with concern.

Y/N nodded, taking a deep breath to steady themselves. "Yeah, just a tickle in my throat. Probably just the dust," they muttered, waving it off. They weren't going to let something as small as a cough get in the way of finally collapsing onto their bed.

As the two of them made their way inside the barracks, the dim light flickering above cast long shadows across the room. Soldiers were already lying down, some chatting quietly, others already asleep. Y/N threw themselves onto their bed with a heavy sigh, the thin mattress feeling like heaven after the day they'd had.

"It feels like we've been here forever," Davis said, settling onto his own bed across from Y/N. He leaned back against the wall, his gaze distant as if lost in thought. "How many years has it been now since our last mission?"

Y/N frowned, thinking back. It felt like a lifetime had passed since they'd last been out on an actual mission, the kind that put their skills to the test in real combat. "I think it's been about three years," Y/N said, their voice soft. "Three years of just... this." They gestured around the room, as if the endless cycle of training, drills, and more training could be summed up in one vague motion.

Davis chuckled, though there was a hint of bitterness in his laugh. "Three years feels like an eternity when you're stuck here doing the same thing over and over. It's almost like they've forgotten about us. No missions, no real action. Just... waiting."

Y/N nodded in agreement. They had once craved the structure of military life, the sense of purpose it gave them, but now, after so many years, the monotony had started to wear them down. The endless drills, the same faces day after day—it was like they were in limbo, neither here nor there.

Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. A young soldier peeked in, looking around the room before his eyes settled on Y/N. "Y/N, the higher-ups want to see you in the commander's office."

Y/N sat up, surprise flickering across their face. "Me?"

The soldier nodded, already turning to leave. "Yeah, they asked for you specifically. You should head over there right away."

Y/N exchanged a quick glance with Davis, who raised an eyebrow. "Wonder what that's about."

"Guess I'm about to find out," Y/N said, standing and stretching. The strange cold feeling in their chest had faded, but now a new sensation took its place—curiosity, mixed with a bit of nervousness. They hadn't been called to the commander's office in a long time, and it was rarely for good news.

The walk to the commander's office was a short one, but it felt longer with each step. Y/N's mind raced with possibilities. Had they done something wrong? Were they being reassigned? Or worse, discharged?

When they finally arrived, they stood outside the door for a moment, taking a breath to steady themselves. Raising their hand, they knocked twice, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway.

"Come in," a deep voice called from inside.

Y/N pushed open the door and stepped inside, immediately greeted by the sight of Commander Reese sitting behind his desk. He was an imposing figure, his face weathered and stern, though there was a hint of something softer in his eyes as he looked up at Y/N.

"Take a seat," he said, gesturing to the chair in front of him.

Y/N sat down, their heart pounding in their chest as they waited for the commander to speak.

Reese shuffled through some papers on his desk before finally looking up, meeting Y/N's gaze. "You've been with us for a long time now, haven't you?"

Y/N nodded, unsure where this was going. "Yes, sir. It's been... quite a few years."

The commander leaned back in his chair, folding his hands together. "You've served well, Y/N. You've trained hard, followed every order, and given your all to the mission. But..." He paused for a moment, his expression softening. "I think it's time for you to go home."

Y/N blinked, not sure they had heard him correctly. "Go... home?"

Reese nodded, sliding a piece of paper across the desk toward Y/N. "Your time here is done. You've earned your discharge. It's time for you to leave the base and return to your family."

Y/N stared at the paper in disbelief. The words seemed surreal, as if they were looking at someone else's fate and not their own. After years of living in the same routine, they were finally being told it was over. They could go home.

"But... I..." Y/N stammered, unsure what to say. "It's been so long. I didn't think..."

The commander gave a small smile, something Y/N rarely saw from him. "I know it's a lot to take in. You've been here for so long, it must feel strange to think about going back. But you've done your part. You deserve this."

Y/N's heart raced as they processed the news. The thought of going home—finally seeing their family again after so many years—sent a wave of excitement through them. They hadn't realized how much they missed home until this very moment.

"Thank you, sir," Y/N said, their voice barely above a whisper as they took the paper. "I... I don't know what to say."

"Just make the most of it," the commander said with a nod. "You've earned it."

Y/N stood, clutching the discharge papers in their hand as they gave a salute to the commander. He returned it, his expression still soft but commanding.

As Y/N walked out of the office, the weight of the moment began to settle in. After all these years, they were finally going home.

-Was it that easy...?-

Chapter Text

Y/N tossed the last of his things into his duffel bag, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nervousness. After so many years, he was finally going home. As he zipped the bag closed, Davis appeared at the door, arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

“Well, look who’s packing up to leave us poor souls behind,” Davis said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Y/N grinned, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m sure you’ll miss me. You’ll finally have some peace and quiet around here.”

“Peace and quiet? Please. You’re just taking all your bad luck with you. The rest of us might finally survive the drills without you jinxing everything.”

Y/N snorted, tossing a rolled-up shirt at Davis, who dodged it with an exaggerated move. “Right, because that one time with the grenade wasn’t your fault at all.”

Davis held up his hands in mock defense. “Hey, the pin came out on its own. I don’t make the rules.”

“You don’t even follow the rules,” Y/N shot back, laughing as he stuffed his bag closed. Davis came over to help with the final bit of packing, groaning dramatically as he shoved things into place.

“You know,” Davis said, looking around the nearly empty room, “I can’t believe you’re leaving. Feels like you’ve been here forever. It’s gonna be weird not having you around to make fun of.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll still have plenty of idiots to laugh at,” Y/N said, slinging the bag over his shoulder. He clapped Davis on the back. “Besides, I’ll send you a postcard. Maybe from a beach. While you’re here… doing drills in the mud.”

“Real nice,” Davis said, though he couldn’t help but laugh. “Just make sure that postcard doesn’t get lost in the mail. I’m not holding my breath.”

They exchanged a few more good-natured insults, poking fun at each other’s mistakes and mishaps over the years. Davis rolled his eyes as Y/N bowed dramatically, pretending to bid farewell to an audience of one.

“Stop that, you look like an idiot,” Davis said, though he was grinning.

“It’s called grace,” Y/N replied, standing up straight again. “Something you wouldn’t understand.”

With one last laugh, they patted each other on the shoulder, both a little sad but not willing to show it. Y/N slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way out to the rest of the camp, where the other soldiers stood, some waving, others giving nods of acknowledgment. Y/N bowed lightly to them all in respect, feeling a lump form in his throat.

As he walked toward the exit, he noticed the captain standing off to the side, watching him intently. There was something in the captain’s gaze—something mysterious. Y/N paused for a moment, their eyes locking. The captain’s face was unreadable, but Y/N felt an odd sense that there was more going on behind that look. Was there something the captain wasn’t saying?

Before Y/N could think too much about it, the captain gave a small wave, his expression never changing. Y/N waved back, but the moment lingered in the air, leaving an unsettling feeling. With a final nod, Y/N turned and headed toward the waiting bus.

The ride away from the camp felt surreal. Y/N sat by the window, watching the camp shrink into the distance as the bus rolled through the dirt roads and into the thick forest beyond. The sky was dark, night already falling, and the trees blurred past, their dark silhouettes casting eerie shadows.

After some time, Y/N’s head began to feel heavy. A strange dizziness crept in, and he rubbed his temples, wondering if the stress of leaving was catching up to him. He stared out the window, hoping the cool night air would help clear his mind.

That’s when he saw it.

In the dark forest, something stood among the trees. It was tall, impossibly tall, with unnaturally long limbs that seemed to stretch into the night. Its silhouette was just barely visible through the branches, but Y/N could make out the unsettling shape of a faceless head, almost featureless except for a faint impression where eyes might have been.

Y/N’s breath caught in his throat. He blinked, wondering if he was seeing things, but when he looked again, the figure was still there, looming in the shadows, completely still.

He glanced around the bus, expecting someone else to have noticed, but the other passengers were oblivious, lost in their own thoughts or conversations. No one seemed to sense the strange presence outside.

Y/N rubbed his eyes and turned back to the window. The figure was gone. Just like that. The trees looked normal again, swaying gently in the breeze. Y/N shook his head, letting out a nervous laugh.

“Must be my imagination,” he muttered to himself. “Been in the military too long. Probably just seeing things.”

But no matter how much he tried to convince himself, the image of that tall, faceless figure stayed with him, lingering in the back of his mind like a shadow that wouldn’t quite disappear.

“I should get more sleep, the trauma must be clawing my leg” they sigh.

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As the bus continued its journey, stopping and turning down winding roads, Y/N leaned back in the seat and let their mind wander. The forest outside became a blur of dark trees, and thoughts of home slowly crept in. How long had it been since they’d seen their family? Far too long. The military had consumed so much time—missions, training, deployments. The days bled together, and before Y/N knew it, years had passed.

Their thoughts drifted to their younger brother, and a faint smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. The memory of that day—the day they first left for the military—played out in their mind like an old movie.

Y/N could still hear the high-pitched wails of their little brother, clinging desperately to their leg like a barnacle that refused to be pried off.

“Don’t go!” the boy had cried, his arms wrapped tightly around Y/N’s calf, tears streaming down his chubby cheeks. His grip was surprisingly strong for a kid that small. “You can’t leave me! I’ll never let you go!”

Y/N had chuckled, crouching down to ruffle their little brother’s hair. “Come on, buddy. I’ll be back before you know it. You won’t even miss me.”

“Yes, I will!” the boy had shouted between sobs, burying his face in Y/N’s pant leg and sobbing harder, soaking their shirt in the process. “You’re gonna forget about me! I know it!”

Y/N had laughed softly, though their heart ached at the sight of their brother’s tears. “Forget about you? How could I forget about the kid who always beats me at Mario Kart? You think I’m just gonna let you win forever without getting a rematch?”

The little boy sniffled, looking up at Y/N with wide, teary eyes. “You’ll come back and play Mario Kart with me?”

“Of course I will,” Y/N had said, smiling warmly. “But you gotta practice, alright? Because when I come back, I’m taking the crown. No more easy wins.”

The promise had seemed to placate the boy for a moment, but then he hugged Y/N’s leg even tighter. “But what if… what if you don’t come back?”

At that, Y/N had crouched down to his level, pulling him into a proper hug. “I’ll come back. I promise. And when I do, we’ll have the biggest Mario Kart tournament ever. You’ll see.”

The little boy hadn’t let go easily, though. It had taken both their mother and father to peel him off, and even then, he’d reached out for Y/N, sobbing into their mother’s shoulder. “Don’t go! Please don’t go!”

Y/N had felt their heart breaking a little, but they’d managed to give their brother a brave smile, waving goodbye as their parents tried to comfort the inconsolable child.

“Listen, kid,” Y/N had called out one last time, grinning through the lump in their throat. “Don’t grow taller than me while I’m gone, okay? That’s an order!”

The memory brought a soft laugh to Y/N’s lips as they sat on the bus, the image of their young brother’s tear-streaked face so clear in their mind. They wondered how much he’d grown since then. Would he still be the same emotional little kid? Or had the years changed him, too?

Y/N sighed, their heart heavy with a mix of nostalgia and longing. There was so much to catch up on, so many moments they had missed. Hopefully, their bond hadn’t changed too much. If anything, Y/N hoped their time apart had made their reunion that much sweeter.

The bus came to a slow stop at Y/N’s destination. The familiar landscape outside the window brought a flood of emotions—this was home. Y/N stood up, slinging their bag over their shoulder, and stepped off the bus, the busy road bustling with people going about their day. It was strange, being back in the civilian world after so long.

Just as Y/N took in the surroundings, they suddenly felt a force slam into their back, nearly knocking them off balance. Arms wrapped around them tightly, and a familiar voice sobbed into their back.

“You’re back! You’re really back!” The voice was muffled with tears.

Y/N smiled immediately, already knowing who it was. They reached back and patted the kid’s head. “Hey, squirt. Missed me?”

The grip around their waist tightened, and their little brother sobbed louder, his face buried into Y/N’s back. “I told you not to leave me again!”

Y/N chuckled, turning around and crouching down to meet their brother face-to-face. His cheeks were red and wet with tears, and his eyes were wide with disbelief. “You grew a bit, huh?” Y/N said, ruffling his hair playfully. “But I told you I’d come back.”

“You promise you’re not leaving again?” The boy’s lip quivered as he wiped his face with his sleeve.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Y/N smiled, giving him a tight hug. “And I’ve got a rematch waiting for you. Mario Kart’s going down as soon as we get home.”

Before Y/N could stand back up, more footsteps approached, and then there they were—Mom and Dad. Their mother’s face lit up with joy, and without a word, she threw her arms around Y/N, pulling them into a tight embrace.

“Oh, honey, welcome home,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Y/N hugged her back just as tightly, feeling their father’s strong hand pat their shoulder. “It’s good to have you back, son.”

The words felt like a warm blanket, wrapping Y/N in comfort. They had waited so long to hear that. As Y/N hugged their parents, their little brother stayed glued to their side, refusing to let go.

For a moment, Y/N felt the world slow down. The busy road, the people, the noise—it all faded into the background as the only thing that mattered was this moment. Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes, and though they tried to hold them back, they couldn’t stop the few that slipped down their cheeks.

“I missed you guys,” Y/N said softly, their voice cracking just a little. “I really missed you.”

Their mother wiped her own tears, smiling through them. “We missed you too. More than anything.”

Their father gave a firm nod, his eyes glistening with pride. “Welcome home, son. You’ve done us proud.”

Y/N looked down at their little brother, who was still clutching onto their side, sniffling but smiling now. Y/N patted his head again, feeling a wave of happiness wash over them.

“I’m home,” Y/N said, the words heavy with meaning. “I’m finally home.”

Chapter Text

It had been a week since Y/N returned home, and they’d quickly fallen back into the rhythm of family life. The days were full of laughter, love, and the simple joys of being surrounded by the people who mattered most. For the first time in years, Y/N felt like they could truly relax.

Every day seemed to begin and end with a Mario Kart showdown with their younger brother. The competition between the two had become fierce, with neither willing to back down. Y/N had never forgotten their promise to reclaim the Mario Kart crown, and their little brother, who had grown much more skilled over the years, was determined to make sure that didn’t happen.

One afternoon, as they sat cross-legged in front of the TV, controllers in hand, Y/N grinned mischievously. “You know, I’ve been training for this moment. All those years in the military? They taught me focus, discipline… and the art of drifting around corners.”

Their brother shot them a look, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, well, all those years you were gone, I’ve been practicing. You’re going down, big bro!”

Y/N laughed. “We’ll see about that!”

The game began, and the screen was filled with bright colors and fast-paced action as the two raced through the tracks. Y/N, ever competitive, kept trying to pull ahead, but their brother was right on their tail.

As they rounded a sharp corner, Y/N’s little brother launched a red shell that sent Y/N’s character flying off the track.

“Oh, come on!” Y/N groaned, throwing their hands up in defeat. “That’s cheating!”

Their brother grinned triumphantly. “That’s strategy, my friend. You’ve still got a lot to learn.”

Y/N narrowed their eyes playfully. “Alright, alright. Best two out of three.”

The playful banter continued for the rest of the day, with the two siblings laughing and trash-talking as they tried to out-race each other. It felt like old times, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel grateful to be back, sharing these moments with their brother.

When they weren’t glued to the TV, Y/N found themselves helping their mom around the house, especially in the kitchen. One afternoon, their mom had roped them into baking cookies, a task Y/N wasn’t exactly skilled at.

Y/N stared at the tray of cookies they had just pulled from the oven, tilting their head in confusion. “Why do they look like they’re from a horror movie? I followed the recipe exactly… I think.”

Their mom peeked over Y/N’s shoulder and burst out laughing. “Well, they certainly have character!” she said, trying to stifle her giggles. The cookies were lumpy, misshapen, and some of them had burnt edges that made them look like little monsters.

Y/N groaned. “I was aiming for regular cookies, not Halloween decorations.”

Their dad walked in, took one look at the cookies, and chuckled. “Ah, now this takes me back. Remember that time you tried to make cupcakes for your little brother’s birthday and they turned out… well, like this?”

Y/N grinned, shaking their head. “How could I forget? I’m pretty sure those cupcakes were classified as a biohazard.”

Their mom patted Y/N on the back. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. It’s the effort that counts. Besides, they’re still edible… sort of.”

“Maybe I should stick to the eating part instead of the baking,” Y/N joked, though they couldn’t help but laugh along with their parents.

Despite the questionable appearance of the cookies, their mom insisted on setting them out on the table. Y/N’s brother wandered into the kitchen, grabbed one, and took a big bite. His face immediately scrunched up.

“Are you sure these aren’t from Halloween?” he asked, struggling to chew.

Y/N rolled their eyes. “Very funny.”

The whole family laughed, and Y/N felt a warmth spreading through them. It wasn’t about the cookies—or even about getting things right. It was about being together, making memories, and sharing moments like these.

Another part of Y/N’s routine was exercising with their father. Every morning, they’d head out to the backyard, where their dad had set up a small workout area. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it got the job done.

As they lifted weights and ran laps around the yard, Y/N’s dad would regale them with stories from his younger days—stories Y/N had heard a hundred times before but never got tired of.

“Back in my day,” their dad began, wiping the sweat from his forehead, “we didn’t have all this fancy gym equipment. We had to make do with what we had. You wouldn’t believe some of the workouts I came up with.”

Y/N smirked. “Oh, I believe it. You’ve told me that story about using paint cans as weights at least ten times.”

Their dad laughed. “Well, it worked, didn’t it? Kept me in shape.”

Y/N nodded, stretching out their arms. “I guess I can’t argue with the results. You’re still in better shape than half the guys at my base.”

Their dad grinned proudly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

As they finished their workout and sat down on the grass, catching their breath, Y/N looked over at their dad, feeling a wave of gratitude. It had been so long since they’d been able to share moments like this, and now that they were back, Y/N wanted to savor every second.

“You know,” Y/N said, breaking the comfortable silence, “I missed this. Just being here, with you guys. It’s… different from the military. Slower, but in a good way.”

Their dad nodded, looking out over the yard. “We missed you too, son. A lot. But it’s good to have you back. Even if you can’t bake a decent cookie to save your life.”

Y/N laughed, throwing a playful punch at their dad’s arm. “Hey, watch it. I’m still a soldier, remember?”

The two of them laughed.
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As the days passed, Y/N’s head throbbed more frequently, a sharp, unrelenting pain that seemed to settle deep in their skull. At first, Y/N thought it was just a lingering effect from the long months in the military, stress, or maybe exhaustion finally catching up to them after all the years away. But the pain was different. It wasn’t fading; in fact, it was growing worse.

Y/N sat on the couch one morning, rubbing their temples as they tried to ignore the dizziness that washed over them. Their mom walked into the room, pausing when she saw the deep frown on Y/N’s face.

“Honey, are you okay?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.

Y/N forced a smile, waving it off. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little headache. It’ll pass.”

But it didn’t pass. By the end of the day, the pain had intensified. When Y/N’s younger brother challenged them to another round of Mario Kart, Y/N could barely focus on the screen. The colors blurred, the sounds felt too loud, and the sensation of spinning around the game’s tracks only made the dizziness worse. Halfway through the race, Y/N had to put the controller down.

“I think I need a break,” Y/N mumbled, standing up slowly, trying to steady themselves.

Their brother gave them a confused look. “You okay, bro? You never quit mid-race.”

“Just tired,” Y/N said quickly, though even they didn’t believe it. The truth was, they felt sick. There was a coldness spreading through their body, starting in their chest and moving outward, chilling them to the bone.

That night, Y/N’s family gathered around the dinner table, but Y/N barely touched their food. Every bite felt like it was sitting wrong in their stomach. Their mom, always attentive, noticed and frowned.

“You’ve barely eaten all day,” she said softly. “Maybe we should see a doctor, just to be sure.”

Y/N shook their head. “It’s nothing. I’m probably just readjusting to life at home. My body’s a bit out of sync.”

Their dad exchanged a glance with their mom, but neither of them pressed the issue. They didn’t want to worry Y/N, but the growing concern in their eyes was impossible to miss.

The next morning, Y/N woke up in a cold sweat, their head pounding worse than ever. When they tried to sit up, a sharp pain shot through their chest, and before they could stop it, they doubled over, coughing violently. Their hands came away covered in blood.

Y/N stared at the crimson stain in disbelief. This wasn’t normal. Something was terribly wrong.

Panicked, they rushed to the bathroom, trying to compose themselves, but the dizziness was overwhelming. When they looked in the mirror, their reflection was pale, almost ghostly. The blood on their hands looked even darker against their sickly complexion.

“Mom…” Y/N called out weakly, their voice trembling.

Their mom burst into the bathroom within seconds, her eyes widening in horror when she saw Y/N hunched over the sink. “Oh my God, Y/N! What happened?!”

“I… I don’t know,” Y/N whispered, their voice shaking. “It just started… I feel like I’m burning inside.”

Without hesitation, their mom wrapped her arms around Y/N, helping them to the couch. Their dad rushed into the room moments later, and together, they called for an emergency doctor to come to the house. Y/N’s little brother hovered nearby, his face pale with fear. He didn’t understand what was happening, but seeing his older sibling in such pain was terrifying.

The doctor arrived later that afternoon, checking Y/N’s vitals, asking questions, running tests. But by the end of the visit, they didn’t have any concrete answers.

“Everything seems normal,” the doctor said, looking perplexed. “Your vitals are stable. There’s no sign of infection or any clear reason for this. I’ll recommend further tests at the hospital, but… I’m not sure what we’re dealing with here.”

Y/N’s parents looked even more worried after hearing the doctor’s uncertainty. Y/N sat in silence, feeling a cold knot of fear tighten in their stomach. If no one could figure out what was wrong, then how were they supposed to get better?

As the days went on, the symptoms only worsened. The headaches became unbearable, and Y/N found themselves coughing up more blood each day. The pain in their chest felt like a constant weight pressing down on them, suffocating and sharp. Y/N’s family stayed by their side, trying everything they could—doctors, specialists, medications, home remedies—but nothing seemed to help.

One evening, Y/N sat with their dad on the porch, the two of them watching the sunset in silence. The air was crisp, and the sky was painted with shades of orange and pink. It should have been a peaceful moment, but Y/N’s head was spinning, their chest aching with each breath.

“I don’t understand,” Y/N whispered, breaking the silence. “How can no one know what’s wrong with me?”

Their dad sighed, placing a reassuring hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll keep trying until we do. You’re strong, Y/N. You’ve been through so much already—you’ll get through this too.”

But even as Y/N nodded, trying to believe the words, a part of them was scared. The kind of scared they hadn’t felt since their first day on the battlefield, when every step forward was uncertain and filled with danger. Only this time, the battle was within their own body, and Y/N wasn’t sure they knew how to fight it.

Chapter Text

Gasp as your eyes snap open..

Noise…

Dizziness

Pain

PAIN

Y/N’s hands trembled as they gripped the banister, their vision swimming in and out of focus as they slowly made their way down the stairs. Each step felt heavy, their body weak from the constant strain of whatever was tearing through them. The cold sweat that clung to their skin made them shiver as they finally reached the bottom, pausing when they heard voices in the living room.

Strangers.

Y/N carefully moved toward the corner, pressing their back against the wall to stay hidden as they listened in. Their heart pounded in their chest, not from fear, but from the growing weakness that had plagued them for days. They peered around the corner, squinting through the blur of their vision, able to make out two figures dressed in suits standing by the door. Their parents stood across from them, their mom’s soft sobs filling the air like a punch to the gut.

Y/N strained to hear the words being exchanged, the voices slightly muffled through the fog in their head.

“…Your son has Friedreich’s Ataxia, it seems. That’s why many doctors couldn’t find what was wrong with them.” One of the strangers spoke calmly, but the words hit like a hammer, knocking the wind from Y/N’s lungs.

Friedreich’s Ataxia? Y/N had never even heard of it before, but judging by the way their mom was crying, it wasn’t good.

The stranger continued speaking, their voice clinical and detached. “There is no cure as of now, but we are working on finding one. If your son would come along with us, there would be no experimental charges needed. We’re helping as many patients as we can with this condition.”

Y/N’s vision blurred further, but not from weakness this time—from tears. Their mother’s sobs grew louder, and Y/N’s heart twisted in pain hearing it. The sound of her breaking down was unbearable. Dad’s voice was quieter, filled with disbelief. He was always the strong one, but now he sounded lost, unable to accept that there was no cure. No hope. Y/N clenched their fists, nails digging into their palms as they tried to hold themselves together.

They glanced toward the hallway, where their younger brother still slept peacefully, blissfully unaware of the storm that was brewing downstairs. For a moment, Y/N felt a wave of relief wash over them. At least their brother didn’t have to hear this—not yet. Not until it was time.

The two strangers in suits continued, offering their solution. “We know this is difficult to hear, but there’s a chance we can make a breakthrough. If Y/N participates, they could be helping others in the same situation. It’s a long shot, but it’s something.”

Y/N’s parents exchanged a long look, their faces etched with indecision. Their mom was still crying, clutching a tissue to her face, while Dad’s hand rested on her shoulder, his expression tight with grief and confusion. They didn’t know what to do. They didn’t want to lose their child, but they also didn’t want Y/N to suffer any longer.

Y/N couldn’t take it anymore. The weight of the decision was too heavy for them to bear. Their parents didn’t deserve this burden. They didn’t deserve to be the ones forced to make the choice, to send their child away to some unknown fate, hoping for a miracle.

With a deep breath that hurt their chest, Y/N pushed themselves away from the wall and stepped forward. The movement made their head spin, but they steadied themselves, determined. Their voice came out hoarse, almost a whisper, but loud enough to silence the room.

“I’ll do it.”

The room froze. Y/N’s parents turned, eyes wide with shock and fear, while the two strangers in suits exchanged glances, seemingly satisfied with the interruption. Y/N swallowed the lump in their throat, forcing a smile that didn’t reach their eyes.

“I’ll go with them,” Y/N said, their voice stronger this time. “If there’s even a chance… I’ll take it.”

Their mom shook her head, tears streaming down her face as she reached out for Y/N, her voice breaking. “No, Y/N… no, you don’t have to—”

“I do,” Y/N cut her off gently, stepping closer to her and taking her hands in theirs. “Mom… Dad… I can’t keep living like this. I can’t put you through this pain, watching me get worse every day. If this is a chance, even a slim one, to help myself and maybe help others… I have to try.”

Their dad’s face was a mixture of emotions—anger, sadness, helplessness. He clenched his jaw, but deep down, he knew Y/N was right. There was nothing more the doctors could do here. Staying meant slowly wasting away, and that wasn’t fair to anyone, least of all their family.

Y/N’s mom sobbed harder, pulling Y/N into a tight embrace, her hands shaking as she held on like she might never let go. Y/N hugged her back, pressing their face into her shoulder, willing themselves not to cry. They needed to be strong now, for her. For their family.

“I love you,” Y/N whispered, their voice muffled. “I’ll come back like how I did. I promise.”

Their dad stood there, fists clenched at his sides, his eyes glassy as he watched the scene unfold. He placed a hand on Y/N’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “You’ll always have a home here, Y/N. No matter what happens.”

Y/N nodded, pulling away from their mom to face the two strangers. “I’m ready.”

One of the suited figures gave a curt nod, stepping forward. “We’ll make the arrangements. It’ll be quick.”

Y/N glanced back at their parents, offering a small, bittersweet smile. There was no guarantee they’d come back. They knew that. But if there was even a sliver of hope, it was a chance they were willing to take.

Before stepping out the door with the strangers, Y/N hesitated, feeling the weight of the moment settle in. Their heart clenched, not just for their parents, but for their younger brother, still peacefully asleep upstairs, blissfully unaware of what was happening. Y/N couldn’t leave without saying something to him, without leaving a parting word in case… in case they never made it back.

“I’ll be right back,” Y/N muttered, their voice hoarse from exhaustion. They turned back, quickly walking toward the stairs, ignoring the confused glances from their parents and the strangers. Their feet were heavy as they moved through the hallway to their brother’s room.

The door creaked as Y/N pushed it open slightly, peeking inside. Their younger brother was still curled up in bed, arms clutching his pillow tightly, completely unaware of the heartbreak unfolding downstairs. Y/N’s heart ached, but they had to stay strong. They needed to leave something behind for him.

Y/N quietly grabbed a piece of paper from the desk in the corner of the room. Their hands trembled as they wrote down a few words, something simple, but meaningful:

-Hey little buddy, I had to leave for a bit, but I promise I’ll be back soon. Stay strong for me, okay? Take care of Mom and Dad, and don’t forget—you’ll always be my favorite player in Mario Kart. Keep practicing so I won’t beat you next time! Love you.-

Y/N added a small doodle of their brother’s favorite character from the game, smiling weakly to themselves as they folded the note in half. Gently, they placed it on the pillow next to their brother’s head, careful not to wake him. They watched him sleep for a moment, feeling a pang of regret. They wished they could have said goodbye in person, but this would have to be enough.

Leaning down, Y/N pressed a soft kiss to their brother’s forehead, whispering, “I’ll see you again soon.”

With a final glance, Y/N turned and left the room, the door clicking softly behind them. They made their way back downstairs, where their parents and the strangers waited in silence. Their mom’s eyes were red and puffy, her hands wringing together anxiously, while their dad’s face was hard, his jaw clenched tight.

Y/N nodded to the strangers, who turned to leave. They followed, their parents standing at the door, watching as Y/N stepped outside. As the cold night air hit their face, Y/N took a deep breath, forcing down the fear and uncertainty. They had made their decision, and now, they had to see it through.

But no matter what happened, Y/N knew one thing for sure—they had left a part of themselves behind in that note, a promise that, somehow, they would find their way back home.

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Why does he feel like someone is watching them leave.

Chapter Text

Y/N sat in the back seat of the sleek, black car, their head resting against the cool window as they watched the city slowly disappear from view. The familiar streets, the buildings, even the park where they used to play with their younger brother—all of it slipped away as the car drove farther and farther from home. They could feel the weight of the situation settling in, and deep down, Y/N knew what was really happening. The strangers had spoken kindly enough, but the promise of finding a cure felt hollow.

“A text subject?,” Y/N muttered to themselves, staring blankly at the blur of passing trees.

They sighed deeply, shifting in their seat. The truth gnawed at them. The so-called “cure” they’d mentioned was just an excuse, a way to lure them away from their family under the guise of hope. Y/N knew there were no miracles for something like this, not yet at least. This wasn’t about saving them—it was about using them, testing whatever new drugs or treatments the lab had concocted. They were just a subject now, no different from any other patient locked away in some sterile, white room.

Still, what other choice did they have? Staying home and watching their family suffer as they got worse wasn’t an option. The pain was already unbearable, not just for them but for their parents, their little brother. Every cough, every dizzy spell, it only made things harder for the people they loved. At least this way, Y/N could spare them some of the heartache, even if it meant walking into something unknown, something dangerous.

The car hit a bump in the road, causing Y/N to jerk slightly in their seat. They glanced up at the front, where the two strangers sat in silence. The driver kept his eyes fixed on the road, his expression blank, while the passenger—who had done most of the talking back at the house—occasionally glanced back at Y/N through the rearview mirror. Their faces gave nothing away. Professional, cold, distant.

Y/N’s thoughts drifted back to the note they had left for their brother. They could still picture the way he had clung to them years ago when they first left for the military, crying and begging them not to go. That same pain was back now, but Y/N knew they couldn’t show it. They had to keep it together, had to stay strong for the family they were leaving behind once again.

“Maybe this time it’ll be different,” Y/N thought, though they didn’t believe it. They tried to focus on the good memories, on the laughter they’d shared with their brother playing Mario Kart just a few days ago, on the comfort of cooking with their mom, and the long talks with their dad. Those moments felt distant now, like they belonged to a different life, but they held onto them anyway. They were the only thing keeping Y/N from spiraling into fear.

The car turned onto a narrow road, heading deeper into a wooded area. The trees grew denser, their branches casting dark, twisting shadows across the path. Y/N couldn’t help but feel uneasy. This was far from any hospital or research center they had imagined. The isolation, the darkness—it all felt too deliberate, too calculated.

“How long’s this drive, anyway?” Y/N asked, their voice breaking the silence in the car. They weren’t really expecting an answer, but the tension was getting to them. Anything to distract from the growing knot in their stomach.

“Not too much longer,” the passenger replied, turning to face them briefly. “We’re almost there.”

Y/N nodded, but the feeling of dread didn’t leave. They settled back into the seat, staring out the window again as the trees continued to rush past. They wondered what lay ahead, what kind of “treatment” these strangers had in store for them. But more than that, they wondered if they’d ever see their family again.

The car slowed as it approached a gated facility. Beyond the gates, Y/N could make out the shape of a large, sterile-looking building, illuminated by the faint glow of security lights. It looked exactly like the kind of place where experiments happened—cold, clinical, and detached from the outside world.

“Here we go,” Y/N whispered to themselves, bracing for what was to come.

The gates opened with a low creak, and the car rolled inside. The facility loomed ahead, its windows dark and unwelcoming. Y/N could feel their pulse quicken, but they forced themselves to remain calm. They had to. There was no turning back now.

The car came to a stop, and the passenger opened the door, stepping out first. He gestured for Y/N to follow. With a final deep breath, Y/N stepped out of the car, their legs feeling weak beneath them. The night air was cold, biting at their skin as they followed the strangers toward the building.

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As Y/N walked through the sterile, brightly lit hallways of the facility, they couldn’t help but notice the unsettling sight of people like them—patients locked behind glass walls. At first glance, they seemed healthy, their faces free of any visible symptoms. But as Y/N looked closer, it was clear something was deeply wrong. Their eyes were hollow, distant, like the life had been drained out of them. They just sat there, staring blankly at nothing, some lying in bed motionless. It was eerie, like walking through a hall of living ghosts.

Cameras hung from every corner, silently watching Y/N’s every move. The hum of security systems filled the air, reminding them that this place was not just a hospital, but a heavily monitored institution. Y/N’s stomach churned. This wasn’t what they had imagined when they agreed to come here. But it was too late now—they had made their choice.

A nurse led Y/N into a small, windowless room where a man in a white lab coat was waiting, sitting at a desk cluttered with files and charts. The man looked up from his paperwork and smiled, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Ah, welcome. You must be Y/N,” the man said, standing up to shake their hand. “I’m Dr. Reeves. I’ll be conducting your intake interview.”

Y/N sat down in the chair opposite him, their hands gripping the armrests a little too tightly. The room felt colder than the rest of the building, the kind of chill that seeped into your bones.

“This won’t take long,” Dr. Reeves continued, flipping through a folder with Y/N’s name on it. “We just need to get some basic information before we proceed.”

Y/N nodded, though their mind was still reeling from the images of the patients in the glass rooms. They could feel a growing sense of dread in the pit of their stomach.

Dr. Reeves asked the usual questions—medical history, family background, symptoms, how long they’d been sick. Y/N answered as best as they could, though their thoughts kept drifting to what they had seen in the hallway. Something wasn’t right about this place. But they couldn’t put their finger on it.

After what felt like an eternity, Dr. Reeves closed the folder and gave Y/N a small, reassuring smile.

“Alright, that’s all we need for now. You’re officially part of our program,” he said, sliding a piece of paper across the desk. “Just sign here, and we can begin.”

Y/N stared at the paper. It was a consent form, filled with legal jargon and medical terms they barely understood. They hesitated, feeling the weight of the pen in their hand.

“You’ll be well taken care of,” Dr. Reeves said, his tone soft but firm. “I know this must be overwhelming, but you’re in good hands here. We’re working hard to find a cure.”

Y/N looked up at him, searching his face for any sign of dishonesty. But there was nothing there—just the same cold professionalism they had seen in the eyes of the strangers who brought them here.

With a heavy sigh, Y/N signed the paper.

“Good,” Dr. Reeves said, collecting the form. “Now, we’ll need a blood sample. Just standard procedure.”

Before Y/N could react, a nurse appeared at their side, already preparing the syringe. Y/N rolled up their sleeve, watching as the needle slid into their arm. It was quick, but they couldn’t shake the feeling of being nothing more than a test subject now.

The nurse labeled the vial of blood and handed it to Dr. Reeves, who examined it briefly before nodding.

“One last thing,” the doctor said, standing up and walking over to a cabinet on the wall. He opened it and pulled out a small device—a collar, sleek and metallic with a faint blinking light on it.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat.

“This is for your safety, and for the safety of others,” Dr. Reeves explained, approaching Y/N with the collar in hand. “It monitors your vitals and ensures you remain compliant with facility regulations. You’ll be expected to wear it at all times.”

Y/N frowned, their mind racing. “What do you mean by ‘compliant’?”

Dr. Reeves gave them a knowing look. “We’ve had some… incidents in the past. Some patients, in their frustration, have become aggressive. This collar will deliver a mild shock if any violent behavior is detected. It’s just a precaution.”

Y/N’s throat tightened. “A shock collar?”

“It’s very mild,” Dr. Reeves reassured. “Think of it as a necessary measure to maintain order.”

The nurse stepped forward and gently placed the collar around Y/N’s neck. The cool metal pressed against their skin, and for a moment, Y/N felt trapped, like a prisoner in their own body. The blinking light was a constant reminder of their new reality.

“There,” the nurse said, stepping back. “All set.”

Y/N rubbed the back of their neck, feeling the weight of the collar. They wanted to ask more questions, wanted to know what exactly was happening in this place. But something in Dr. Reeves’ eyes told them not to push it.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Dr. Reeves said, his tone cheerful again. “We’ll escort you to your room now. It’s been a long day, I’m sure you could use some rest.”

Y/N stood up, feeling numb. The nurse led them back into the hallway, past more of the glass rooms with patients staring into the void. As they walked, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that they had just signed away their freedom. This place was not what it seemed. The hollow stares of the other patients haunted them, and the cold touch of the collar around their neck made them feel more like a prisoner than a patient.

But it was too late now.

Chapter Text

Living in the facility wasn’t exactly how Y/N imagined it. Every day felt the same, facing the four glass walls that made up their world. It wasn’t like a hospital room with the comforting buzz of life beyond the door—it was more like a cage, sterile and quiet. The staff at least tried to keep the patients occupied. They handed out books, meals came at regular intervals, and sometimes there were activities meant to distract the mind from the more terrifying realities.

Y/N found some solace in the books, letting their mind drift away to stories of adventure or love. But no matter how hard they tried to immerse themselves, their thoughts always came back to the same looming worry: death. They could feel it, like a shadow hanging over them. The dizziness that came with every test, every strange liquid they were forced to drink, never seemed to leave. Their head buzzed, like a broken TV screen, flickering in and out of static. It felt as if something was wrong deep inside them, something they couldn’t fix or understand.

The staff led Y/N to the “white room” every few days. The doctors would draw more blood, always with that same polite, distant smile. And then there were the drinks—small vials of strange liquids that made Y/N’s head spin in new, unsettling ways. The dizziness was becoming their constant companion. Nothing felt real anymore, like they were slipping in and out of a dream they couldn’t wake from.

When Y/N tried to rest, it didn’t bring any comfort. Sleep was no longer a place of peace, but a battleground for their mind. One night, as they finally drifted off in the cold bed, the dizziness turned into something else entirely—nightmares.

The darkness in their dream was thick, oppressive, like being submerged in deep water. Y/N found themselves standing in a forest, the trees tall and endless, stretching into the night sky. But something was off about the place. The forest was unnervingly quiet, not even the sound of wind rustling through the leaves. It felt wrong, unnatural.

They moved forward, though they weren’t sure why. The branches seemed to close in around them, and the further they went, the darker it became. Then, Y/N felt it—a presence. They weren’t alone.

At first, it was just a feeling, that sickening sensation of being watched. But soon, they could hear it: the sound of something moving behind them. Y/N turned, their heart pounding in their chest, and that’s when they saw it—a tall silhouette standing far off between the trees, barely visible in the shadows.

The figure didn’t move, didn’t make a sound, but Y/N could feel it staring at them. It was impossibly tall, much taller than any human, with unnaturally long arms that seemed to hang down past its waist. Its face—or what should have been its face—was completely blank. Smooth, featureless, like someone had erased its identity.

Y/N froze, their breath catching in their throat. They tried to scream, but nothing came out. The air around them felt thick, like they were being suffocated by the silence of the forest. The figure didn’t move, but somehow, Y/N knew it was coming for them. Panic surged through their veins, and they turned to run, but the forest seemed to close in around them. No matter how fast they moved, the trees grew tighter, twisting and warping, blocking their path. The ground seemed to shift beneath their feet, like reality itself was collapsing.

Y/N’s vision blurred, flickering like the broken TV in their mind. The dizziness was back, but worse this time. It felt like the whole world was spiraling out of control. The faceless figure seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at once, always just out of sight but somehow closer every time Y/N turned.

Then, the buzzing in their head grew louder, a piercing noise that drowned out everything else. Y/N stumbled, their legs giving out beneath them as the forest melted into darkness. They collapsed to the ground, the cold dirt beneath their hands feeling all too real, but they knew this was still a nightmare. It had to be.

The same faceless man was there, standing over them now. Y/N couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe. The blank face loomed closer, bending down as if it were studying them. And then, just as the fear reached its peak, the buzzing in Y/N’s head exploded, and everything went black.

Y/N woke up with a start, drenched in cold sweat. Their heart was racing, and it took a moment to realize they were still in their room, the sterile glass walls surrounding them. But the dizziness didn’t go away. It lingered, that same static buzzing at the back of their mind, as if the nightmare had followed them into the real world.

They sat up, trying to catch their breath. The faceless figure from the dream was still fresh in their mind, its image burned into their thoughts. Y/N rubbed their eyes, trying to shake off the feeling that it was more than just a dream. Maybe it was their imagination, maybe it was the stress of the tests, the disease… or maybe, just maybe, there was something darker at play.
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Y/N sat in his glass room, staring blankly at the four walls that made up his world. He had long lost track of time. Was it days? Months? Years? It all blended together in this sterile, monotonous environment. The only constant was the feeling of loneliness, an aching pit in his chest that never seemed to go away. He wondered if his family was okay. He hoped they were still going on with their lives, that they were happy, even though he couldn’t be there with them.

His thoughts often wandered back to his younger brother, his parents, and the life he had before he got sick. Every cough that wracked his body felt like another reminder that he was slipping further away from them. Y/N winced as he coughed up more blood, the familiar metallic taste filling his mouth. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and tried to settle back down into the uncomfortable bed, hoping sleep would bring him some relief.

Suddenly, the sound of the glass door sliding open pulled him from his thoughts. Y/N’s eyes snapped open, surprised. No one usually came to his room without warning, especially not at this time. When he looked up, he froze in shock.

Standing there, framed by the light from the hallway, was Ingressus.

For a moment, Y/N thought he was imagining things. Ingressus, his old friend from the military. They had trained together, shared meals, and had each other’s backs during missions. But before Y/N could even say goodbye, Ingressus had gone missing. The last thing Y/N heard was that Ingressus had left the military and gone home. Y/N had always felt a little hurt that his friend left without a word, but now…here he was, standing right in front of him.

“Ingressus?” Y/N’s voice was hoarse, both from the shock and the sickness that had taken hold of his body.

Ingressus stepped inside, his expression one of disbelief. “Y/N… what the hell are you doing here?”

Y/N shook his head, feeling weak and confused. “I should be asking you that. They said you went home. I thought you… I thought you left.”

Ingressus gave a bitter laugh, stepping further into the room. “That’s what they told you, huh? I didn’t leave by choice. I got sick too, not long after you. Turns out, it’s the same sickness you’ve got.” He gestured to the room around them. “I’ve been here longer than most of the patients. They didn’t tell you because they don’t tell anyone anything. They just bring us here and lock us away.”

Y/N’s heart sank. So Ingressus had been here this whole time, suffering the same fate. “You’ve been here this long… and I never knew?”

Ingressus nodded, his expression somber. “They don’t let us communicate with the outside. I tried to contact you when I first got here, but it was no use. They keep everything tight-lipped. The worst part is, they don’t tell you how long you’ve got. You’re just… stuck.”

Y/N coughed again, wincing as more blood stained his sleeve. Ingressus noticed, a frown crossing his face as he walked over and sat on the bed beside Y/N.

“I’m sorry, man. I had no idea you were here until now. This place… it’s hell,” Ingressus muttered, glancing at the four walls as if they were closing in on him. “But now that we’re in the same room, at least we’re not alone.”

Y/N felt a strange sense of relief wash over him. For so long, he had been surrounded by strangers, medical staff who treated him like a specimen more than a person. But seeing Ingressus here, someone who had shared part of his life, someone who understood what it was like to fight and struggle— it made him feel less isolated.

“You… you’re my roommate now?” Y/N asked, a weak smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Ingressus nodded. “Looks like it. Maybe they figured since we knew each other, it’d make things easier. I don’t know.”

Y/N let out a shaky breath. “I never thought I’d see you again. Especially not here.”

“Same,” Ingressus said, his voice soft. “But at least now we’ve got each other. We can look out for one another, just like we did back in the military.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Y/N felt a small flicker of hope. He wasn’t completely alone anymore. With Ingressus by his side, maybe he could find some strength to keep going, to fight through the pain and fear that had gripped him for so long.

“Hey, remember that time we snuck out of camp to get those awful burgers?” Ingressus suddenly grinned, and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh God, those were terrible,” Y/N said, his laughter turning into a cough, but it didn’t matter. The memory was a bright spot in the darkness.

“And you wouldn’t stop complaining the whole time we were eating them, but you still finished yours,” Ingressus added, smirking.

Y/N chuckled, shaking his head. “What can I say? I wasn’t about to waste it.”

For a moment, the weight of their situation seemed to lift as they shared memories of their time in the military. The bond they had formed all those years ago was still there, stronger than ever. Y/N felt a sense of safety with Ingressus beside him, as if they were back on the battlefield, watching each other’s backs.

“Thanks for being here,” Y/N said quietly after a while, the reality of their situation still heavy but less unbearable now.

Ingressus patted Y/N on the shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere this time.”

Y/N nodded, feeling comforted by the presence of his old friend. As strange and hopeless as their situation was, having Ingressus here made it a little easier to face. Maybe they couldn’t control what was happening to their bodies, but they could at least face it together. And for now, that was enough.

Chapter Text

As time passed, Y/N and Ingressus grew more comfortable with each other. The sterile, cold environment of the facility started to feel a little less suffocating with Ingressus by Y/N’s side. Every day, they would share stories from their past—some from the military, others from their lives before they got sick. They joked around like old times, poking fun at each other’s worst moments in training or recalling embarrassing memories from their missions. It was these small moments of laughter that helped Y/N push through the constant tests and experiments, knowing that Ingressus was always there to offer a comforting word or a sarcastic joke when the fear crept in.

The tests weren’t as scary anymore. Not when Ingressus alway waiting for him, always cracking some ridiculous joke to lighten the mood when they come back. When the dizziness hit, or when the white room felt like a prison, Ingressus would nudge Y/N and whisper, “Hey, remember the time we ate those radioactive burgers? This can’t be worse than that, right?”

Y/N would always chuckle, and somehow, it made the whole ordeal feel a little more bearable. They faced the fear together, never leaving each other to suffer alone.

One evening, as they lay on their small beds, both staring at the ceiling, their conversation drifted to lighter topics—memories of home, dreams they once had, and the people they missed.

“I wonder if my brother still plays those video games,” Y/N mused aloud. “I used to beat him all the time at Mario Kart. He’d get so mad, and my mom would have to step in to calm him down.”

Ingressus chuckled. “You’re the older sibling, it’s your job to drive him crazy.”

“True,” Y/N grinned, “but I kinda miss it, y’know? The everyday stuff. What about you? What did you miss the most?”

Ingressus was quiet for a moment before replying, “Probably just the quiet mornings at home. I didn’t have any siblings, but I had this stupid old dog that would bark at nothing. I miss that dumb mutt more than I thought I would.”

Y/N smiled at the thought, feeling a warmth settle between them in the room. The conversation drifted off, and for a moment, there was silence. That’s when they both realized how close they were lying to each other. The beds were tiny, pushed together, and their hands were almost brushing against each other’s.

Y/N glanced over, noticing that Ingressus seemed to be looking at the ceiling, pretending not to notice the closeness. Awkward tension filled the room, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel nervous. Was this flirting? Were they…?

Without thinking, Y/N’s hand moved a little closer, fingers brushing against Ingressus’s. There was a pause, both of them freezing for a moment. Y/N’s heart started to race, and a nervous laugh escaped him.

“Uh, sorry,” Y/N mumbled, pulling his hand back quickly.

“N-no, it’s fine,” Ingressus said, his voice a little higher than usual. “I just… uh, I didn’t expect it.”

For a second, they both just stared at each other, unsure of how to navigate the situation. It was painfully awkward, but also kind of funny. They were both terrible at this.

“So… uh, do we just…?” Y/N began, his hand hovering awkwardly in the air.

Ingressus let out a snort, trying to stifle his laughter. “Man, we suck at this.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh too, the tension breaking as they both dissolved into giggles. “Yeah, we really do.”

But then, in a surprisingly bold move, Ingressus reached out and grabbed Y/N’s hand, fingers awkwardly tangling together. It wasn’t graceful, but it was enough to send a jolt through Y/N’s chest. They both went quiet again, the reality of what they’d just done sinking in.

“Wow, okay,” Y/N muttered, his face burning.

“Yeah,” Ingressus agreed, equally flustered. “This is… something.”

They lay there in awkward silence for a few more moments, hands still tangled together, neither of them wanting to pull away. It was new and strange, but also comforting in a way that made the harsh reality of their situation feel a little less lonely.

“Guess we’re bad at flirting too,” Y/N joked, breaking the silence.

Ingressus chuckled. “Speak for yourself. I think I’m doing pretty great.”

Y/N rolled his eyes but smiled, giving Ingressus’s hand a playful squeeze. “Yeah, right.”

Y/N sat still, his gaze growing distant. Ingressus noticed the change right away and turned to him, concern lacing his voice. “What’s going on? You good?”

For a moment, Y/N hesitated, eyes flickering with uncertainty. His heart raced, and he felt ridiculous for even considering sharing what had been haunting his dreams. He let out a shaky sigh, biting the inside of his cheek before speaking.

“I’ve been having these nightmares… and, I know it sounds stupid, but…” Y/N paused, struggling to find the words. “It’s this… faceless man. He’s there every night. No eyes, no mouth, but I feel him. He’s always looming. I get dizzy, and… it’s like he’s trying to get me.”

Ingressus didn’t flinch. He didn’t laugh or tell him to stop being ridiculous. Instead, he just listened, his face calm and serious. When Y/N finished, expecting some kind of remark, he was surprised when Ingressus simply reached over and wrapped him in a tight hug.

“It’s not stupid,” Ingressus said quietly. “Nightmares suck, but I’ve got your back, man. Always.”

Y/N felt a wave of relief wash over him. For once, he didn’t feel like a burden sharing something so personal, even if it seemed silly. Ingressus always knew how to make things feel less terrifying.

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Y/N’s body shook uncontrollably as another violent cough wracked his chest. The blood came this time, darker and more abundant than before, painting his trembling hands. He gasped for breath, each inhale jagged and painful. His heart pounded against his ribcage as if it, too, was giving up, overwhelmed by the disease that had consumed him for so long.

Through the fog of his deteriorating mind, he felt the steady, grounding pressure of Ingressus’s hand in his own. But Ingressus’s voice, though only inches away, felt distant, like it was slipping into the same void Y/N was teetering on.

“You alright?” Ingressus asked, his voice strained with worry, though he tried to keep it steady. Y/N knew he wasn’t fooling anyone.

“I… don’t think I’m gonna make it,” Y/N whispered, his voice broken as tears welled up, spilling down his pale cheeks. He wanted to be strong, wanted to fight, but every part of him knew the truth. His body was giving out.

“But… I’m happy to have you here with me,” Y/N continued, forcing a smile through his tears, though it only made his heart ache more. “I just… I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything,” Ingressus said, gripping Y/N’s hand tighter, though Y/N could see the fear in his eyes, the helplessness he was trying to hide.

“Tell my family… I love them,” Y/N said, his voice trembling. “Make sure they know, okay? I need them to hear it.”

A flicker of panic crossed Ingressus’s face, and his grip tightened almost painfully, as if he could keep Y/N tethered to life just by holding on. “No… you have to live. Stay with me, Y/N.”

Y/N’s heart clenched at the desperation in his friend’s voice, and for a moment, he hated himself for putting Ingressus through this. But there was no escaping it now. He was slipping, and he knew it.

“Why… why do you have to look at me like that?” Y/N whispered, his own heart breaking at the sight of Ingressus’s tear-filled eyes. “Don’t cry like an idiot… well, I guess we’re both idiots, huh? For each other.”

Ingressus let out a choked laugh, though his tears fell freely now. “You’re not leaving me, Y/N. You can’t.”

The darkness crept in, slowly at first, until it began to swallow Y/N whole. His vision blurred, and he could feel the world fading away, slipping out of his grasp. His body grew cold, weightless, like he was sinking into some endless void. But to his surprise, it wasn’t frightening. The blackness that consumed him turned into a shimmering shade of blue, like the calm waves of the ocean he used to dream of. It was beautiful. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he didn’t feel pain. The dizziness that had plagued him was gone.

“You wanted to live?”

The voice echoed through his mind, soft yet commanding, like a whisper carried on the wind. Y/N wanted to respond, wanted to say yes, that he did want to live. But his lips wouldn’t move. He felt trapped in the stillness of this strange in-between place.

“You wanted to live?”

Yes, Y/N thought. He wanted it more than anything. But the weight of reality, of his failing body, felt so far away now.

Suddenly, light pierced through the darkness, growing brighter and more intense until it enveloped him completely.

“Wake up.”

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Y/N’s eyes snapped open, and he gasped, air filling his lungs in a desperate rush. His heart pounded, disoriented as he took in his surroundings. The sterile room, the glass walls… and Ingressus, sitting beside him as his red hoodie now on themselves .

“Ingressus?” Y/N’s voice trembled as he turned to his friend, reaching out to shake him lightly. But something was wrong. Ingressus didn’t move. His hand, still holding Y/N’s, was ice-cold. Panic surged through Y/N as he shook Ingressus harder, desperately trying to wake him.

“No… no, no, no. Ingressus! Wake up!”

But Ingressus remained still, his eyes closed, his chest unmoving.

Y/N’s heart dropped. It couldn’t be real. He couldn’t be gone. They were just talking a moment ago, laughing through the pain, sharing memories, clinging to each other. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Ingressus was the strong one. He couldn’t have… he couldn’t…

“No… please…” Y/N whispered, his voice breaking as he clutched Ingressus’s hand tighter, as if somehow, he could pull him back from wherever he had gone. “Please don’t leave me here. Not alone…”

But the cold, still silence that followed was deafening.

That’s when Y/N noticed the red emergency lights flashing outside the glass, casting an eerie, hellish glow on everything. The distant screams of other patients filled the air, mingling with the metallic screeching of alarms. The facility was in chaos, the air thick with the stench of blood and death.

Y/N’s heart raced, a sinking dread filling his veins. What had happened while he was unconscious? Why wasn’t Ingressus waking up? His chest tightened, panic seizing him as he struggled to make sense of the situation.

He could hear glitching noises, like the very fabric of reality around him was unraveling. People were screaming, banging on the walls of their rooms, but it all felt distant, as if it were happening in a different world. Y/N’s world had narrowed down to the lifeless body of his friend beside him.

“Ingressus…” Y/N’s voice cracked, his throat raw from crying, from the overwhelming grief tearing him apart. He buried his face in Ingressus’s jacket, his chest heaving with sobs. “Please… please don’t leave me…”

But Ingressus’s hand, once warm and reassuring, remained cold in his grasp. The world around them crumbled, but all Y/N could feel was the emptiness growing inside him, as if his very soul was being hollowed out.

Y/N squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could wake up from this nightmare. But deep down, he knew. There was no waking up. Ingressus was gone, and the weight of that truth was too much to bear.

And now, Y/N was truly alone.

Chapter Text

Y/N held Ingressus’s body tightly, his heart shattering with every passing second. The coldness of Ingressus’s skin burned against Y/N’s chest, the harsh reality setting in. He was gone. But why? Why was he the one still breathing? He should have been the one to die. Ingressus had been strong, had been there for him when Y/N was at his weakest. It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

Tears streamed down Y/N’s face, but there were no answers, no explanations. Only the crushing silence as he held onto his friend’s lifeless form. His body shook with sobs, his mind racing with a thousand unspoken words he wished he had said. He wanted more time—just a little more time.

Suddenly, the glass door swung open, and the sterile, cold air of the facility rushed in. A pair of guards stormed in, their voices harsh and demanding. Y/N didn’t register their words, his focus entirely on Ingressus. But when one of them grabbed his arm and yanked him away, his grip on Ingressus’s hand slipped.

“No… no, please!” Y/N begged, reaching back for him, his fingers stretching desperately toward his friend’s still form. But his hand fell short, and the guard shoved him aside, indifferent to his pleas. One of the guards checked Ingressus’s pulse and, without a second glance, shrugged.

“No need to, this one’s dead,” the guard muttered, turning away.

Y/N’s heart stopped at those words. They left Ingressus there, as if he were nothing. As if he hadn’t mattered. The cold, clinical detachment in their voices made Y/N’s blood boil, but he was too weak to fight, too heartbroken to scream. He couldn’t leave Ingressus behind. Not like this.

But before he could react, the guards grabbed him and dragged him out of the room, pulling him through the sterile halls. His eyes stayed fixed on Ingressus, lying alone in that cold, empty room, his red jacket still draped over him like a final farewell. Y/N wanted to scream, wanted to fight them off, but his body refused to move. His heart felt like it was being ripped from his chest as they tore him away from the only person who had ever understood him.

They forced him into a vehicle, shoving him in with the other patients who looked just as confused, just as broken. Y/N didn’t care what was happening around him anymore. His mind was stuck on the image of Ingressus lying there, alone, his body forgotten in that cold room.

The glitching noise echoed in his ears, making his head pound. The chaos of the facility, the screaming, the alarms—it all blurred together. The guards barked orders, the patients cowered, but Y/N sat there in a daze, staring blankly ahead as the car engine roared to life.

“What’s happening…?” he whispered to himself, but no one answered.

As the car rumbled down the desolate road, Y/N’s thoughts were a chaotic storm, filled with questions and fears. He could feel his blood boiling, the temptation to fight back clawing at him, but the risk was too great. Attacking the guards would only put the other patients in danger, and they had already suffered enough. Y/N sat silently, his mind racing, mumbling to himself, trying to come up with a plan.

The road ahead grew darker as they entered a dense forest, the tall trees towering over them, casting long shadows in the moonlight. The atmosphere felt suffocating, heavy, as if something was waiting in the dark, watching them. Y/N’s head began to pound again, the glitching sensation returning with a vengeance. He groaned, clutching his head, trying to block out the pain. But this time, something was different. The other patients—some of whom had been silent or muttering to themselves—were also affected. They, too, clutched their heads, groaning in discomfort. Even the guards, who had been stone-faced, began to shift uncomfortably, some of them cursing under their breath.

“what going on, are they feeling it too?” Y/N whispered, his voice barely audible over the hum of the engine. The car swerved slightly as the driver groaned, rubbing his temples, struggling to keep control.

That’s when Y/N saw it. Through the foggy glass, just ahead on the road, a dark figure appeared, almost blending into the shadows. His heart skipped a beat as he squinted, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. The figure walked calmly, almost casually, in the middle of the road, completely unfazed by the approaching car. A tall, thin figure with a hood, his face obscured, but his movements deliberate.

Then Y/N’s eyes widened in horror. The figure was armed. An axe glinted in the dim light as the stranger lifted it, aiming directly at the car.

“What the hell—” one of the guards muttered, leaning forward to see, but it was too late.

With a swift, fluid motion, the figure hurled the axe. Y/N watched in shock as the weapon spun through the air, a deadly blur of metal. It slammed into the front wheel of the car with a sickening crunch. The sound of rubber tearing and metal screeching filled the air as the car veered violently off the road.

“Hold on!” the driver shouted, trying to regain control, but it was no use. The car skidded, the wheel now useless, and slammed into a tree. The impact threw everyone forward, Y/N’s head smacking against the seat in front of him. For a moment, everything went black.

Chapter Text

It hurt

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His head throbbing from the pain impact.

When Y/N came to his senses, the acrid smell of smoke filled his nose, burning his throat as he struggled to claw his way out of the wreckage. His ears were ringing, the dizzying sound making it hard to focus. His forehead throbbed, blood trickling down, but he didn’t have time to think about the pain. His heart raced with fear, every beat echoing the growing sense of doom inside him.

Who was that? What did he want?

Through the shattered windshield, Y/N saw the figure again. But now… he wasn’t alone. There were more figures, shadowy forms moving silently through the trees. The man with the axe, his face still obscured by the hood, led them. The group moved closer, stepping out of the forest like specters, their weapons gleaming in the dim light. The man with the axe took another slow step forward, dragging the blade along the ground, the sound of metal against the earth sending shivers down Y/N’s spine.

It was then that chaos erupted.

Screams tore through the night as the other patients, panicked and desperate, shoved past Y/N, scrambling over one another in a frantic attempt to escape. Fear had taken hold of them, and survival was the only instinct they had left. They didn’t care who they pushed or who got left behind. Y/N was jostled to the side, his body hitting the ground hard as patients ran past, stumbling and tripping over the debris.

Gunshots rang out, shattering the eerie stillness as the guards opened fire. They were desperate, shooting wildly at the advancing figures. Y/N could hear the bullets whizzing past, feel the shockwaves of the gunfire. But it wasn’t enough. The shadowy figures moved too fast, darting between the trees, seemingly untouched by the hail of bullets. The man with the axe, calm and deliberate, continued forward, unbothered by the chaos around him.

Y/N’s heart pounded in his chest as he lay there, too disoriented to move, his mind racing with fear. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the scene unfolding in front of him. Blood splattered across the ground as the axe came down with brutal force, cutting through the guards like paper. The sound of flesh tearing and bones cracking filled the air, followed by the sickening thud of bodies hitting the ground.

Y/N’s breath hitched, his chest tightening as waves of terror coursed through him. His body trembled uncontrollably, every instinct screaming for him to flee, to escape this nightmare. But as he tried to push himself up, his limbs felt like they were encased in cement, every inch of him weighed down by an unshakable dread and the pain pulsing through his body. His vision wavered, the world around him blurring in and out of focus, and his head throbbed with each frantic heartbeat. He could barely distinguish the sounds around him—the screams, the desperate gunshots, the chaos that surrounded him.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Y/N saw something that made his heart nearly stop. He flinched, his breath catching in his throat, as two new figures emerged from the shadows too close to where he is, each one more terrifying than the last. They had an unsettling grin smile bloody red, stretched far too wide, with hollow, lifeless eyes that seemed to bore into the soul of anyone unfortunate enough to meet his gaze. And the last was the most unnerving—a figure with no visible eyes, only dark, empty sockets where they should have been, his face void of expression yet somehow more menacing in its emptiness.

Y/N didn’t recognize any of them, but he didn’t need to know who they were to understand the threat they posed. His heart pounded wildly as he watched in horror, unable to tear his gaze away, as these strangers descended upon the remaining patients. Panic erupted, patients scattering in every direction, desperate to escape the onslaught. But the figures moved swiftly, almost methodically, picking off the fleeing patients one by one. Their movements were sharp and precise, each strike filled with a cold, ruthless efficiency that left no room for mercy.

The screams grew louder, blood splattering across the wreckage and staining the ground in gruesome patterns. Y/N’s stomach churned as he watched the violence unfold, his mind struggling to process the horror before him. He lay there, still paralyzed, feeling utterly helpless as the nightmare unfolded around him. Every muscle in his body screamed for him to get up, to run, to do anything but lie there as the scene spiraled further into madness. And yet, he couldn’t move. His legs felt rooted to the ground, locked in place by an overwhelming sense of dread that had wrapped itself around him like chains.

The entire world seemed to shift, time warping as if he’d been thrown into some twisted version of reality where chaos and death reigned supreme. The gunshots from the guards grew more sporadic, each one drowned out by the agonizing cries of the patients. Blood pooled around him, the metallic scent filling his senses as the sounds of suffering and carnage washed over him. It was like he’d been thrown into a living nightmare, a place where hope was nonexistent, and survival felt like an impossible dream.

As the chaos continued, Y/N’s mind raced, frantically searching for a way out, some miracle that would pull him from this nightmare. But no matter how desperately he willed his body to move, to escape, he remained frozen in place, a helpless bystander to the carnage surrounding him. His brain screamed at him to run, to get as far away from these monsters as possible, but his body refused to cooperate. It was as though the fear itself had solidified, weighing him down and binding him to the ground.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he struggled against his own paralysis, the crushing realization settling over him that he might not make it out of this alive. The world around him continued to spiral into madness, the once-quiet forest now a battlefield painted in blood and death. And as the figures continued their relentless assault, Y/N’s hope began to fade, the darkness closing in around him as he lay helpless, trapped in a nightmare from which there seemed to be no escape.

And then, in the middle of it all, he saw the figure again. The man with the axe, standing over the lifeless bodies of the guards, blood dripping from his weapon. His hood was pulled back just enough to reveal a glimpse of his face—those empty, hollow eyes that stared back at Y/N with a chilling absence of humanity.

Y/N’s breath caught in his throat, terror gripping him as the figure slowly turned his head toward him, their gazes locking. The man’s cold, detached stare bore into him, piercing through whatever courage Y/N might have had left. It was like he was weighing Y/N’s life, deciding in that soulless silence whether or not he would be the next to fall. Y/N’s body went rigid, frozen in place by the overwhelming fear radiating from the figure.

But before the man could take another step forward, something strange began to happen. The air around them flickered, a static-filled distortion rippling through the chaos. The sounds of screams, gunshots, and blood-soaked terror all seemed to warp and crackle, like the world itself was shuddering, on the verge of splitting apart. The fabric of reality was breaking down, glitching in waves that made everything—every sight, every sound—feel both surreal and nightmarishly real.

Y/N felt a pang of disorientation, and for a brief, dizzying moment, it looked like the figure did too. His gaze drifted, his expression contorting as if hearing something only he could understand. The man’s focus shifted to the two other figures, his apparent allies who were still hunting down the patients with ruthless efficiency. Y/N couldn’t hear what was being said—if anything was even spoken aloud—but it looked as if he was trying to communicate with the others, perhaps giving them a silent command or signal amidst the glitching chaos.

Seizing the opportunity in this moment of distraction, Y/N’s instincts finally took over. His legs unfroze, fueled by a desperation he didn’t even know he possessed, and he bolted into the dense, shadow-filled forest. His breaths came in sharp, ragged gasps as he sprinted through the trees, the dark night enveloping him. Each step echoed his heartbeat, pounding faster and faster as he pushed his exhausted body to keep going, to escape the horror he’d left behind. His mind screamed at him to not look back, to focus only on putting as much distance as possible between him and the figures that hunted them.
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Branches whipped against his skin, stinging, but he barely felt the pain as he charged deeper into the darkness, stumbling but never stopping. He didn’t dare risk a glance behind him, fearing that he’d see those hollow eyes still watching, still following. The forest around him was silent, as if even nature itself held its breath, unwilling to disturb the terror that had been unleashed.

As he was far enough

Y/N moved carefully, each step as light as he could manage, his mind racing as he tried not to leave any blood trail behind him. The deeper he went into the forest, the colder and darker it became. The midnight air chilled him to the bone, each breath clouding in front of him as he held onto Ingressus’s red jacket, clutching it as if it could somehow bring his friend back to him.

He wanted to scream, to cry out in the silent, empty night, but he knew any sound could lead those figures back to him. The image of those hollow eyes and that blood-soaked axe haunted him, urging him to keep moving, to survive. So he swallowed down his fear, pushing himself onward even though his legs felt heavy and his lungs burned.

As he stumbled further into the forest, a strange sight caught his eye. Tacked onto the rough bark of a tree was a piece of paper, flapping slightly in the night breeze. It was a drawing, crude and childish, but the image it depicted sent a chill down his spine—a tall, faceless figure with unnaturally long limbs , surrounded by strange symbols. The drawing was eerie, the kind of thing a scared child might draw after seeing something they couldn’t understand.

“Is this the….no I must be hallucinating…too much it too much”

He stared at the symbol for a long moment, wondering who had put it there and why. Was it some kind of warning? Or had someone else been lost in these woods, trying to leave a sign of what they’d seen?

His fingers brushed over the paper, rough against his skin, and he found himself hoping that this strange drawing meant he was near some kind of shelter, maybe even a house where he could hide, just for a while. He was desperate for any kind of safety, a place to rest and gather his thoughts. Every part of him was exhausted, weighed down by the relentless fear and grief clawing at him.

How long had he been walking? Time felt warped here, stretched and distorted in the dark silence of the forest. Minutes felt like hours, and every sound—every rustle of leaves or snap of a twig—made his heart race. The forest loomed around him, trees stretching up like twisted shadows in the moonlight, blocking out any hope of seeing the night sky.

Y/N pulled the jacket closer, feeling the faint warmth of Ingressus’s presence linger in the fabric, as if his friend were with him in spirit. It gave him a sliver of strength, just enough to take another step, and then another. The ground grew rockier, and the cold bit into him deeper, but he pressed on, clinging to the hope that somewhere up ahead, he might find shelter from the nightmare that seemed to follow him at every turn.

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His ear pick up a noise or something coming

Y/N’s heart pounded as he heard footsteps crunching through the forest floor behind him. These weren’t just any footsteps; they were heavy and erratic, the unmistakable sounds of the three who had attacked back at the car facility. Panic surged through him, and he ducked behind a thick tree, pressing his back against the rough bark, clamping a hand over his mouth to muffle his breathing.

Peering out cautiously, he could just make out the figures of the three killers moving through the shadows. Their voices drifted over to him in disjointed fragments.

Jeff the Killer, loud and grating, muttered to himself, frustration thick in his tone. “Where the hell did he go? Thought this was supposed to be easy. These runaways are getting boring, don’t you think?” He kicked at the dirt, scowling. “They never last long enough to make it fun.”

Beside him, Ticci Toby fidgeted, his movements twitchy, like he was barely holding onto control. His voice came out in broken, stuttered English, each word punctuated by little bursts of laughter. “M-Maybe he… hid, Jeff. He’s scared… s-s-somewhere… just waiting for us to… find him.” Toby’s giggling echoed through the trees, and he swung his hatchet back and forth with a manic, gleeful look.

“Can you both keep it down?” Eyeless Jack’s voice was a stark contrast, low and smooth, his tone barely above a whisper. He sounded almost… disinterested, like he was accustomed to these hunts. “If you keep running your mouths, he’ll hear us coming from a mile away. And I don’t feel like chasing him all night.” He adjusted his mask, the hollow sockets where his eyes should be turned in Y/N’s direction, sending a chill down his spine. “Let’s spread out. I’ll take the west side.”

“Fine,” Jeff grumbled, dragging his knife across the bark of a nearby tree, leaving deep gouges. “But if I find him first, he’s mine.” He gave a twisted grin, teeth gleaming even in the shadows, and slinked off to the left, muttering to himself as he scanned the trees.

“Aw, don’t be s-so grumpy, Jeffy.” Ticci Toby laughed again, rolling his shoulders and heading in the opposite direction. “We’ll… we’ll f-f-find him. And then… we can have a little fun.”

Y/N pressed harder against the tree, trying to steady his breathing. He watched as the three spread out, each moving with a terrifying determination. He knew he needed to stay hidden, to wait for just the right moment to slip past them. But the air was so tense, every crackling branch and rustling leaf feeling like it would give him away.

If he stayed here too long, they would find him.

Chapter Text

Y/N crouched low, pressing himself as close to the tree as he could, forcing his breathing to slow down as he strained to think of a plan. I’m not going down like those idiots in horror movies, he told himself, remembering all the times he’d watched helplessly as characters tripped over nothing or chose the worst possible hiding spots. They always die because they don’t think things through. He wasn’t about to make that same mistake.

But then, he heard footsteps getting closer. One of them—no, two—seemed to be circling back, moving with slow, calculated steps that crunched the leaves underfoot. Y/N held his breath, his pulse thundering in his ears as a voice drifted over.

“Oh, little mouse,” came Jeff the Killer’s voice, dragging out each word like he was savoring them. “I know you’re out here, all alone, hiding like a scared little thing.” He chuckled, his voice low and twisted. “You can run, but I’ll find you. They always get tired eventually.”

Y/N’s hands clenched into fists. He could see Jeff’s pale face in the dim light, a sinister smile stretched too wide as he prowled around the trees, swinging his knife playfully. Jeff moved closer, his gaze shifting over each shadow, each bush, as though he were playing a twisted game of hide-and-seek.

“I wonder what you’re like,” Jeff continued in a sing-song tone, his knife glinting as he tapped it against a tree. “Are you the type to beg? Or scream?” He laughed quietly to himself. “I hope you’re a screamer. Makes things… more interesting.”

Y/N swallowed hard, doing his best to ignore the chill running down his spine. Stay calm, he told himself, focusing on how to keep from being seen. Don’t make a sound. Wait him out.

But then, there was another voice, smooth and unsettling. It was Eyeless Jack, who had wandered close to Jeff without making a sound. “Scaring them too soon just makes them sloppy,” Jack muttered, almost as if he were offering advice. “If they’re sloppy, they don’t last. And I’d like to see just what this one’s got. Not every day we get one that fights back.”

“Yeah?” Jeff scoffed, tilting his head as he listened to Jack. “But where’s the fun in that? If he’s already scared out of his mind, makes him easier to track down, doesn’t it? Bet he’s already shaking, thinking we’re right behind him.” He raised his voice a bit, as if trying to lure Y/N out. “Come on, little mouse,” Jeff taunted, letting his voice echo. “We’ll find you sooner or later. Save yourself the trouble of running.”

Y/N tightened his grip on the rough bark of the tree, doing everything he could to stay silent. His mind raced. If he made a break for it now, they’d hear him. But if he waited too long, they might come closer. Think, think… He’d have to wait for just the right moment—when they were both looking in the opposite direction.

Then, Toby’s voice rang out from a few trees over, breaking the tension. “C-Come out, come out, wherever you are!” he called in a sing-song tone, his laughter bubbling up in erratic bursts. “No point in hiding! We’ll f-find ya!” His voice cracked, and he muttered to himself, a nervous, deranged tone lacing his words. “You can’t hide forever… y-you’ll get tired, and then we’ll—ha!—we’ll get you.”

Y/N’s mind spun. He could tell they weren’t just playing with him; they were enjoying this hunt. He wasn’t just prey; he was entertainment. But he couldn’t give them that satisfaction. He just needed one small gap, one moment when all their backs were turned, and he’d make a run for it.

As Jeff’s laughter echoed in the trees and Toby’s hatchet thunked into the nearby bark, Y/N focused, his heart pounding with fear but also determination. He wouldn’t give them what they wanted. He was going to make it out of this forest… somehow.

Y/N took a steadying breath, trying to remember the advice his father had drilled into him years ago. “If you’re ever in a tight spot, don’t run blind. Think about where they’re looking, and where you want them to look.”

Scanning his surroundings, Y/N spotted a few loose rocks just within reach. He carefully grabbed one, feeling the rough, solid weight of it in his hand. If he threw it just right, he could make a sound far enough away to draw their attention. But he’d have to be careful—too close, and they’d know it was a trick; too far, and they might not hear it at all.

He calculated quickly, aiming for a spot behind a cluster of trees several yards away. The idea was to hit a dry patch of leaves and sticks, which would make a sharp, noticeable noise—just enough to catch their attention. Y/N took a deep breath, steadied his aim, and threw the rock with just the right amount of force. It arced through the air and landed with a loud crack as it hit a pile of brittle branches.

Toby’s head whipped around at the sound. “There you are!” he snarled, his hatchet swinging as he darted in the direction of the noise, laughing with a manic glee. Jeff, easily goaded, followed suit, his knife clutched eagerly as he whispered, “Let’s see where you’re hiding, little mouse…”

Y/N waited, his heart pounding, as both killers moved toward the sound. The moment they turned their backs, he slipped out from behind his hiding place, crouching low as he made his way into the thicker underbrush. But he knew the plan wasn’t foolproof—Eyeless Jack had been hanging back, quieter and more cautious than the other two.

He moved carefully, making sure his steps were as silent as possible. Every rustle could give him away, and Jack’s heightened senses made him even more of a threat. Y/N could just barely make out Jack’s silhouette through the branches, his unnervingly calm stance contrasting with the chaotic energy of his companions.

Y/N inched forward, feeling a bead of sweat roll down his temple. With each step, he was getting closer to putting more distance between him and the killers. Finally, when he was far enough from Jack’s line of sight, he ducked behind a large bush, crawling through until he was well past their line.

Once he was clear, he took off, moving as fast as he could without breaking into a full sprint. The forest stretched out in front of him, dark and silent, but he was making progress. He’d managed to distract Toby and Jeff, and though Jack was harder to lose, he’d done it. Now, he just had to keep going and find shelter before they caught on.
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Y/N felt a surge of relief wash over him as he realized he’d put enough distance between himself and the killers. He couldn’t help but feel a small burst of pride at his own escape. I actually did it, he thought, a grin sneaking its way onto his face. Dad would be proud. He let himself exhale for the first time, thinking he was safely out of their reach.

But then, as he rounded a thick patch of trees, his foot caught on something, and he stumbled, barely catching himself before he fell. His gaze snapped up, and that’s when he saw it—a dog, sitting calmly in the shadows ahead, watching him. At first glance, it looked almost normal… until he noticed the unsettlingly wide grin spread across its face, a grotesque, unnatural smile that didn’t belong on any creature. Its dark eyes gleamed with a strange intelligence, as if it knew exactly who he was and why he was there.

Y/N froze, every instinct in his body screaming for him to back away. He held his breath, hoping he could somehow avoid drawing its attention. But the dog’s grin only widened, and then—bark!

The sound shattered the silence of the forest, echoing off the trees. Y/N’s heart dropped as he heard answering shouts and footsteps from somewhere behind him. Oh no… no, no, no… he thought, panic flooding his mind. He turned his head just enough to glance over his shoulder, and sure enough, he saw them—Toby, Jeff, and Jack, only about sixteen feet away, and closing in fast.

The dog bounded over to Jeff, who looked down at it with a twisted grin of his own, reaching down to pat his pet’s head as if rewarding it. “Good boy,” Jeff said, his voice low and amused. His gaze lifted, cold and predatory, locking onto Y/N. “Looks like we found our little runner.”

Toby, ever jittery and excited, giggled to himself, his hatchet twirling in his hand. “T-TThought you c-ccould get a-away, huh? ChCute trick, but yy you’re not going anywhere n-now.” His voice was laced with a mocking tone, and his stuttered laugh made Y/N’s skin crawl.

Eyeless Jack, silent and composed as always, simply tilted his head, his hollow sockets fixed on Y/N with an expression Y/N couldn’t quite read. He took a slow step forward, his presence radiating an eerie calm that was somehow even more terrifying than the others’ chaos.

Y/N’s breath caught in his throat, his entire body tense and frozen in place. He wanted to run, but his legs wouldn’t move; fear had turned them into dead weights. The killers were advancing, their shadows stretching ominously as they closed the distance. His eyes flicked between them, desperately searching for any possible escape, but every path seemed blocked.

“Aw, what’s wrong?” Jeff sneered, a sick amusement in his tone. “Cat got your tongue? Or maybe Smiley here just… stole your courage.” The dog, as if on cue, let out another bark, its too-wide grin fixed on Y/N.

Toby leaned in closer, his eyes wide with a manic gleam. “Not so a-smart now, are you? Go o-on, run again—I dare you!” His voice was taunting, like a child playing a cruel game, daring his prey to make one more futile attempt.

Y/N’s heart pounded as he forced his legs to move, his body reacting on pure instinct. “Fine!” he muttered under his breath. “You want me to run? I’ll run!” With a quick, desperate glance back at the killers closing in, he bolted, tearing through the dense forest underbrush as fast as his legs would carry him. The mocking laughter echoed behind him, a twisted chorus of amusement, and it only fueled his determination to get as far away from them as possible.

He could hear Jeff’s taunting voice cutting through the night, sharp and cruel. “Run, little rabbit! You’re not getting far!” Jeff’s laughter followed, dark and gleeful, like he was savoring every moment of the chase. Beside him, Toby was stuttering out jeering words of his own, struggling through the sounds but making his twisted excitement clear.

“C-c-can’t… run forever, can ya?” Toby called, a manic edge to his voice. Y/N could practically feel the axe slicing through the air behind him, and just as he ducked, he heard the blade thud into a tree inches from his head. He was tempted to grab it, maybe use it as a weapon, but he knew better—any delay, even a split second, would let them close the gap. No way he’d make it if he stopped now.

As he stumbled forward, pushing his body to its limits, he cursed under his breath. “This isn’t fair—they have a dog to track me, for crying out loud! Total cheaters!” The forest around him was a blur of dark shapes, every snapping twig and rustling leaf sounding like a warning of the killers drawing closer. He could hear the dog barking somewhere behind, Smiley’s eerie, too-wide grin practically burning into the back of his mind.

Y/N vaulted over fallen branches, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps, adrenaline driving him forward. He knew he couldn’t keep this pace forever, but the sounds of laughter, barking, and Toby’s hatchet thudding against trees kept him moving, faster and faster, his instincts screaming at him to survive.

Every time he thought he’d gained a little distance, he’d hear Jeff’s mocking voice or feel the hair-raising thrill of Toby’s axe nearly hitting him again, barely missing by inches. The killers were toying with him, closing in at their own pace, knowing he couldn’t run forever.

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Y/N skidded to a halt, his eyes darting wildly as he saw Eyeless Jack appearing from the shadows on the other side, cutting off any chance of escape in that direction. “Damn it!” he hissed under his breath, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. He realized, too late, that Jack had been lying in wait, probably watching the whole chase unfold. They were smart, trying to herd him like some twisted game of cat and mouse, blocking him from every exit.

Then his eyes caught something—the edge of a cliff just ahead, dropping steeply into a rocky descent below. He barely had a second to take in the height, the jagged rocks lining the bottom, before glancing around at the three killers closing in on him. Toby was brandishing his axe with a manic grin, Jeff sneered at him with that ever-present, sick smile, and Jack stood silent, as if merely waiting for him to try something foolish.

Y/N’s gaze flicked to an old, weathered log lying on the ground nearby. A crazy idea popped into his mind, and he clenched his jaw, knowing this was either going to be the smartest or dumbest decision he’d ever made. He grabbed the log, feeling the rough, uneven wood in his hands.

“Pfff you gonna fight back with a wood? We have strong weapon than a stick”

“Who said I am fighting?”

Y/N step back and swung one leg over it like a makeshift skateboard.

Jeff cocked his head, a grin spreading wider. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, rabbit? Trying to get yourself killed?”

Toby let out a mocking laugh, his words stumbling in excitement. “Yeah, y-you think… y-you’re g-going to just skate your way out of here? This isn’t a m-movie, idiot!”

Ignoring them, Y/N took a deep breath, adjusting his grip on the log. “No, it’s not a movie,” he muttered to himself, “but if it were, I’d at least want a good ending.” With that, he pushed off with his foot, launching himself over the cliff’s edge. Gravity seized him, and he started sliding down the rocky incline, his makeshift board creaking and splintering as it hit every bump and crevice.

For a second, he almost regretted his decision as he fought to keep his balance, the wind whipping through his hair and stinging his eyes. The jagged rocks whizzed by, any one of them potentially lethal if he lost control. He grit his teeth, trying to steer the log with his weight, leaning back to slow himself down just enough to avoid tumbling.

Above, he heard Jeff’s frustrated shout. “You’ve got to be kidding me! Get him!”

Toby, not one to miss the fun, swung his arm back, hurling his axe with a gleeful, “C-catch this!” The blade flew through the air, whistling as it came alarmingly close to Y/N’s head, but it lodged in a tree just behind him, missing by inches.

Y/N took a steadying breath, muttering to himself, “Close. Way too close.”

As he continued his wild descent, he heard Toby yelling in frustration. “Y-you’re just a little… slippery rat, aren’t ya?”

Y/N couldn’t help but let out a shaky laugh, both from the adrenaline and sheer disbelief that his insane plan was actually working. “Guess you’ll have to try harder than that!” he shouted back, his voice lost in the wind as he picked up speed.

Eyeless Jack simply watched from above, his expression unreadable as he silently tracked Y/N’s movements down the cliffside. Jeff and Toby cursed from the edge, but none of them dared follow, not with the unpredictable terrain below.

As he neared the bottom of the cliff, Y/N knew he had to bail before he hit something he couldn’t dodge. He jumped off the log, rolling onto the ground as he hit, his body aching from the rough landing but safe for the moment. He glanced back up to see the three killers still watching, shadows against the night sky, clearly frustrated that he’d slipped from their grasp.

Breathing heavily, Y/N muttered to himself, “Note to self: don’t mess with guys who have dogs, axes, and no sense of personal space.” With a small smirk, he pushed himself up and darted into the trees, knowing he had only moments to keep moving before they’d inevitably start hunting him again.

Chapter Text

Escape.

Back at the mansion, Jeff stormed in, clearly annoyed. “Can you believe we lost that rat?” he grumbled, stomping around like a kid who’d just lost his favorite toy. Ticci Toby flopped down on a rickety chair, running a hand through his messy hair, muttering, “He’s faster than… he looks. Th-that rabbit knows his way around… t-the woods.”

Eyeless Jack leaned against the wall, pulling off his mask to take another bite of the kidney he was snacking on. “Resourceful for sure,” he said in his calm, calculating tone. “Managed to throw you both off your game. He’s not a dumb one.”

As they complained, Jane the Killer walked in, crossing her arms as she stared daggers at Jeff. “So, let me get this straight—you lost some random rabbit in the woods? Typical.” She shook her head in disgust, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Jeff rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, Jane. Like you’d have done any better!”

Jane’s glare intensified. “Maybe because I don’t waste my time on prey that actually runs circles around you, Rat Killer.”

Laughing Jack, who’d been quietly watching the exchange, let out a chuckle. “Come on, Jeff, it was kinda funny watching you stumble around out there. Maybe you’ve finally met your match in our little forest bunny?”

Ben Drowned was glued to his handheld console, half-listening as he quipped, “So, when’s round two with the rabbit? I’m betting on him this time.”

Jeff scowled, ignoring Ben’s dig, and cracked his knuckles. “Next time, the rabbit won’t be so lucky.”

Eyeless Jack gave a small nod, his expression thoughtful. “He might come back,” he mused, looking at the others. “And when he does, we’ll be ready.”

Sally peeked out from behind the worn sofa, her wide eyes lighting up as she spotted Jeff, Toby, and Eyeless Jack entering the mansion. She clapped her hands and grinned, bouncing with excitement. “You’re back! Did you get him? Did you catch the bunny?”

Laughing Jack chuckled and patted Sally’s head, ruffling her hair. “Oh, they’ve got some tales, alright. Bunny got away, but not without giving these clowns a run for their money.”

Jeff slouched down in a chair, grumbling, “Alright, listen up, Sally, because you’re gonna love this. So, there we were, hunting down this slippery little rabbit in the woods. Thought he was all clever, sneaking around and throwing rocks to mess with us.”

Sally’s eyes sparkled, and she leaned in closer, captivated. “Like Bugs Bunny?” she asked, giggling.

Ticci Toby snorted, nodding with a grin. “Exactly! The little bunny even had the nerve to peek out from behind a tree and stare us down before running off. I swear, he looked right at us like, ‘What’s up, doc?’”

Jeff waved his hands around, putting on an exaggerated expression of frustration. “And he just kept bolting every time we got close! Just when we thought we had him cornered, he found a way to slip through. I’m telling you, this guy was pulling every trick in the book!”

“Oh, oh!” Toby jumped in, stuttering with excitement. “And when he… when he saw me throw my axe, h-he ducked just in time, all, ‘Nope! Not today, Toby!’” He shook his fist, his grin wide. “I bet he thinks he’s real funny, that little bunny.”

Sally giggled, her hands covering her mouth as she pictured Y/N dodging an axe. “So what happened then? Did he really just hop away?”

Jeff groaned dramatically, slumping back with his hands over his face. “Hop? He flew, Sally. Like the fastest bunny you ever saw. I swear, he had wings. One minute he was there, the next he was gone, and—get this—he didn’t even make a sound! Just poof, vanished into the trees, like a rabbit ghost or something.”

Toby leaned in, his eyes wide with faux amazement. “O-or maybe a ninja bunny! Imagine! A whole bunny army, hiding in the shadows, waiting to strike!”

Jeff rolled his eyes and waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, please. One of him is bad enough.”

Eyeless Jack, who had been standing quietly with his arms crossed, finally let out a sigh, the dark sockets where his eyes used to be somehow managing to give off the impression of an eye roll. “You two realize you’re ranting about a grown man who outsmarted you both. Again.”

Jeff shot Jack a look, crossing his arms. “Oh, and I guess you would’ve done any better, huh?”

Jack shrugged, his tone calm and dry. “Well, I don’t see him calling me a ‘name’ and slipping out of my grasp.” He took a bite of a kidney from his pocket, ignoring Jeff’s sour glare.

Sally, clearly loving every second of the tale, tilted her head with a wide smile. “I think he sounds really smart! Like a secret agent bunny!”

Jeff let out an exasperated groan, leaning forward with a smirk. “Oh yeah? You think so, Sally? Because if we ever catch him, he’s going right in a cage with all the other bunnies. I’ll get him one of those water bottles to sip from, and maybe a nice little wheel to run on.”

Toby laughed, wiping his eyes. “Maybe we’ll even put a little bell around his neck so we can hear him sneakin’ around next time. Ding ding ding! There goes the bunny!”

Sally clapped, utterly delighted by the idea. “Aww, but if he’s in a cage, how will he run away from you again?”

Jeff smirked, narrowing his eyes. “Oh, he won’t. Next time, that bunny’s coming right back here, with no way out. And I’ll make sure he doesn’t wriggle his way out like some kind of—what did you call it, Toby? Ninja bunny?”

Toby cackled, nodding. “Ninja bunny, yeah! And I bet he’ll try to dig his way out. You know how those bunnies are, always burrowing and digging!”

Eyeless Jack let out a slow, exasperated sigh. “You two are obsessed. It’s ridiculous.”

Sally, full of enthusiasm, tugged at Jack’s arm. “Don’t you want to catch him, too, Jack? He sounds so cool!”

Jack gave a small, reluctant chuckle, reaching down to ruffle Sally’s hair. “I’ll admit, I’m curious. But not enough to chase a ‘ninja bunny’ through the forest all night.”

Laughing Jack, who’d been watching the whole exchange with a grin, finally chimed in. “Well, sounds to me like you guys got outsmarted by a real clever rabbit. Can’t wait to hear what happens next time you try.”

Sally giggled, wiggling in excitement as she looked up at the group. “You all have to tell me if you catch him! And next time, maybe you’ll finally catch the secret agent bunny for real!”

A low, glitching noise echoed through the mansion, sending a chill down everyone’s spine. The laughter and chatter came to an abrupt halt, and every figure in the room froze. Sally instinctively ducked behind the couch, clutching her stuffed animal tightly as the haunting sound rippled through the air like static.

Jeff, Toby, and Eyeless Jack exchanged uneasy glances. They knew exactly what that sound meant. Slenderman was summoning them. Without a word, they straightened, any trace of their earlier joking disappearing. This was serious. They followed the noise down the darkened hallway to the meeting room—a shadowy, empty space with no furniture, where the only light seemed to be swallowed by the darkness itself.

As they entered, the glitching sound grew louder, and in the center of the room, Slenderman’s towering figure began to materialize, his form distorted, shifting in and out like a corrupted signal. His face was as blank as ever, but his presence was overpowering, filling the room with a tension that even Jeff, usually the most fearless, could feel.

For a moment, there was only silence, save for the quiet hum of static that seemed to pulse from Slenderman. Then, his voice broke through the noise—a fragmented, distorted sound that was both eerie and commanding.

“Report,” he said, his voice layered, like overlapping whispers, each word glitching and echoing. “Are you prepared for the target?”

The three killers stood at attention, their usual antics completely suppressed. This wasn’t just any hunt—it was their first time tracking down this specific target, a prey that Slenderman himself had deemed important. They’d been briefed, but none of them knew exactly what to expect.

Jeff cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. We’re ready,” he replied, though his voice held an edge of anticipation mixed with uncertainty.

Slenderman’s faceless head turned toward each of them in turn, as though gauging their readiness. “You are hunting something… different this time. Do not underestimate the target. He is… elusive.”

Toby fidgeted under Slenderman’s gaze, his usual jittery movements becoming even more pronounced. “W-we get it. Just another job. We’re up for it.”

Eyeless Jack, calm as ever, nodded. “We’ll bring him to you,” he said confidently. “But any details on what we should expect? What makes him… different?”

Slenderman’s form glitched closer to them, the static intensifying. “This prey… is not ordinary. He possesses a survival instinct that goes beyond the typical. And he… adapts.”

The three killers exchanged glances, their curiosity piqued, but they knew better than to question further.

Slenderman’s voice darkened, his words dripping with a sense of finality. “This… ‘bunny’ as you’ve so humorously named him… he is a challenge. Treat him as such.” He glitched, his tall form appearing to stretch, casting shadows that seemed to press against them. “Do not fail. You have only one chance.”

Jeff’s usual cocky smirk was gone, replaced by a look of grim focus. “We understand, sir. We won’t let him get away.”

Slenderman’s blank, looming form gave a slight tilt, his silent gaze almost a warning. “Do not return empty-handed. Find him. Bring him to me. Alive.”

With that final command, the static pulsed, and Slenderman’s form began to fade, but his oppressive presence lingered. Jeff, Toby, and Eyeless Jack turned to leave the room, the weight of the mission pressing down on them. This wasn’t just another hunt. This was a test, and there was no room for mistakes.

As they stepped back into the hallway, all thoughts of jokes and nicknames were forgotten. This was serious. Their first hunt for this elusive target had officially begun, and they all knew the consequences of failing Slenderman.

Chapter Text

Y/N moved through the dark forest, his steps slowing as he finally felt the distance grow between him and the killers who had been after him—Jeff, Eyeless Jack, and Toby. He let out a long, shaky breath, realizing just how close he’d come to a different outcome back there. For the first time since the chase began, he felt a tiny sliver of relief. The night air was cold against his skin, a chilling reminder of the long night ahead.

The trees around him seemed to stretch endlessly, towering up like ancient sentries watching his every move. Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that they somehow knew he didn’t belong here, lost in the heart of the forest. With each step, the branches seemed to close in a little tighter, casting shadows that moved like silent figures. He knew he’d have to rest soon, but the idea of sleeping on the forest floor didn’t seem all that safe, especially after everything he’d been through tonight.

The darkness around him was nearly complete, only the faintest slivers of moonlight breaking through the canopy above. He knew he wouldn’t be able to see very far, and every rustle of leaves or snap of a twig kept him on edge. But there was one thing he was sure of—he’d need to find water soon. He figured that in the morning, when the light returned, he’d have a better chance of finding a stream or river to refill his strength. But for now, he’d have to make do without it.

Looking around, Y/N’s gaze fell upon a sturdy, tall tree nearby. The thick branches looked wide enough to sit on, maybe even comfortable enough to rest for the night. Climbing up might keep him safe from any wandering animals, too. Without wasting another moment, he grabbed onto the rough bark and started to climb, carefully testing each branch before putting his weight on it. His arms ached as he pulled himself up, and his fingers scraped against the bark, but finally, he settled onto a large branch several feet above the ground.

He leaned back against the trunk, hugging his red jacket tightly around him. The jacket was one of the few things left that made him feel grounded, a small reminder of safety and comfort. It wasn’t much against the night chill, but it would have to do. He closed his eyes, breathing in the earthy scent of the forest and feeling the weight of exhaustion begin to creep up on him.

As he tried to find a position that was both comfortable and secure, his mind began to wander, thoughts flitting back to the events that had led him here. The sound of maniacal laughter, the whistling of an axe slicing through the air, the cold, empty stare of Eyeless Jack—it all haunted him. He tried to push the memories away, knowing that thinking about them wouldn’t help him now.

Forcing himself to focus, Y/N planned his next steps. At dawn, he’d search for a water source, maybe even try to scavenge for some food that wouldn’t poison him. He knew he’d have to move carefully, avoiding any signs of his pursuers. For now, though, all he could do was close his eyes and rest, hoping the night would pass without any new terrors finding him.

With one last glance around, Y/N settled back into the crook of the branch, pulling the red jacket even closer, as if it could shield him from the dangers lurking below. The forest was vast, and he had no idea where he was going, but for now, he would have to trust in his instincts and take things one step at a time.

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Y/N found himself once again trapped in the nightmare—the endless black void stretching out in every direction, swallowing sound and sense. He tried to move, but a sharp, searing pain shot through his head, accompanied by a glitching noise that seemed to vibrate his very bones. He clutched his head, the sound growing louder and more agonizing with every second. As he fought to clear his vision, he saw him again—the tall, faceless figure lurking in the shadows, but closer this time, almost as if he could reach out and touch him.

It was Them again, his towering, featureless face cold and blank, giving nothing away yet carrying a presence that chilled Y/N to the core. Y/N’s instincts screamed at him to run, but his legs wouldn’t obey. He was rooted to the spot, paralyzed by an overwhelming fear that seemed to weigh him down like chains. Slenderman’s tentacles began to stretch toward him, dark tendrils wrapping around his arms and legs, coiling with a strength that was both terrifying and unstoppable. They yanked him down, dragging him into an endless abyss, deeper and deeper until all he could see was darkness.

Y/N’s eyes snapped open, his heart racing as he jolted awake. He was drenched in cold sweat, his breaths shallow and rapid. For a moment, he struggled to remember where he was, his mind still tangled in the nightmare. Slowly, the fog lifted, and he realized he was perched high in the tree where he’d taken refuge last night. He took a shaky breath, letting the cold morning air fill his lungs.

The forest around him was blanketed in an eerie fog, thick and ghostly white. The mist was so dense that it was hard to see more than a few feet in any direction, leaving him feeling almost as if he were still lost in the void from his dream. Y/N shivered, hugging his jacket tighter around him as he tried to shake off the lingering dread from his nightmare.

The silence of the forest was unsettling in the fog. Every faint rustle of leaves or distant snap of a twig made him flinch, his senses heightened by the terror still fresh in his mind. But he knew he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed water, he needed to eat, and he needed to keep moving if he wanted any chance of putting real distance between himself and the killers. Taking one last look around the foggy forest, Y/N braced himself and prepared to climb down from his perch, hoping that whatever lay ahead in the daylight would be less terrifying than the horrors of the night.

Y/N sighed, running his hand along the rough bark of the tree. “Figures… not a single fruit in sight,” he muttered, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. “I could really use something, anything, at this point.” He moved from tree to tree, scanning each one with growing desperation. “So much for breakfast, huh?” he mumbled to himself, feeling the gnawing emptiness in his stomach.

He paused, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, listening carefully for any signs of water. “Alright, focus… If there’s a stream nearby, there’s gotta be a sound. C’mon, Y/N, use those training skills for once,” he whispered. And then, faintly, he caught it—the soft, flowing rush of water somewhere in the distance.

His face lit up with a small smile of relief. “Thank god… finally,” he said, almost laughing in disbelief. “Just gotta follow the sound and pray it’s actually drinkable.”

After a short walk through the trees, he finally reached the river. It wasn’t crystal clear—if anything, it looked a bit murky—but he knew he didn’t have the luxury to be picky. “Yeah, probably not the cleanest thing, but beggars can’t be choosers, right?” He crouched down by the riverbank, cupping his hands and taking a tentative sip. The water was cold and tasted a little gritty, but it was enough to quench his thirst.

He straightened up, feeling a bit more energized, when something caught his eye nearby—a cluster of small, red berries growing on a bush. He hesitated, looking around cautiously. “Well, guess I’m in luck. If a squirrel’s willing to eat it, it can’t be that bad, right?” He noticed a tiny squirrel nibbling on the berries, seeming unbothered by them.

“Alright, if you’re not keeling over, then I think I can trust these,” he muttered, picking a few and carefully popping them into his mouth. They were tart, but satisfying enough to take the edge off his hunger. “One small victory at a time,” he said, wiping his mouth chuckles.

Y/N leaned against the tree trunk, nibbling on another berry and glancing over at the squirrel who was still munching away beside him. “Well, look at you, little guy,” he chuckled, amused by the squirrel’s unbothered attitude. “Guess you’ve got this forest life all figured out, huh? Don’t need to worry about finding food or dodging creepy killers in the dead of night.” He sighed, a bit of wistfulness slipping into his voice. “Sometimes I wish I’d just… stayed out of all this mess. Maybe I’m the stupid one here, huh? Sitting here talking to a squirrel like it’s gonna answer me back.”

The squirrel twitched its ears, finishing its berry before scampering up the nearest tree. Y/N chuckled to himself, about to stand up and move on, when he suddenly noticed something odd—everything had gone silent. The usual rustle of leaves, distant bird calls, even the faint hum of insects—all of it vanished, leaving a thick, tense quiet.

A shiver crept up his spine. “Alright, that’s… unsettling,” he muttered, eyes darting around as he instinctively began to back up, his senses screaming at him to leave.

But just as he turned to step away, a sharp, cold metal snap bit into his leg, clamping down with brutal force. He cried out in pain, falling to the ground as he realized what had happened—a bear trap, old but still horribly effective, now held his leg in a merciless grip. “No, no, no—damn it!” he gasped, wincing as he tried to pry the metal jaws apart. Every movement sent a fresh wave of agony radiating through his leg.

Before he could make any headway, a gunshot rang out, the blast echoing off the trees as it hit the trunk just beside him, close enough to send splinters flying. Y/N froze, heart racing, and looked up to see two shadowy figures stepping out from the underbrush. They moved in silence, their presence somehow even more unsettling than the killers he’d encountered before.

One of them wore a dark yellow hood, face obscured except for the faint outline of his eyes. He held a shotgun pointed right in Y/N’s direction, his stance steady and unyielding. Beside him was another figure in a pale, feature mask with lipstick on it?, wielding a crowbar, his movements calculated, as if he was sizing up his trapped prey.

Y/N’s heart pounded as he watched them approach, feeling a cold dread settle over him. He forced himself to look up at the one holding the shotgun—the one they called Hoodie. He tightened his grip on the weapon, tilting his head slightly as if studying Y/N’s helpless form.

“Well, w-well….,” Y/N muttered through gritted teeth, trying to keep his voice steady despite the pain. “You’re… not exactly the welcome party I was hoping for.”

Man why he keep meeting weird and creepy people in this forest!? This is a curse

The masked man, known as Masky, gave a low, humorless chuckle, tapping the crowbar against his hand as he slowly approached. “What, you thought you could just wander into our woods without an invitation?” His voice was low, laced with a mocking tone that sent a chill down Y/N’s spine.

Y/N’s eyes darted between the two of them, mind racing as he desperately tried to come up with an escape plan. But with his leg trapped and his body aching, he knew he was at a serious disadvantage. All he could do was watch as they closed in on him, the odds stacked against him in the most nightmarish way.

Masky leaned down, tapping the crowbar just inches from Y/N’s face. “You look lost, friend,” he sneered, his masked expression unreadable. “Maybe you just need a little… direction.”

Hoodie chuckled darkly, his gaze never leaving Y/N. “A little direction, or maybe a lesson on what happens to trespassers around here.”

Y/N swallowed, every nerve in his body screaming as the two figures loomed over him, their intentions as cold and unyielding as the metal that held him fast.

Chapter Text

As Y/N was dragged through the dense underbrush, his wrists bound tightly, he mumbled under his breath, trying to keep his growing panic in check. “Great job, Y/N… just had to stumble into the one forest full of people with a thirst for blood. Not like I’ve already met enough creepy strangers tonight—now I’ve got the masked mystery squad dragging me off, too.”

The two figures up ahead, both masked and speaking in hushed tones, were just as confusing as the others he’d run into. Y/N strained to catch parts of their conversation, but it was mostly muttered fragments that made no sense. The one with the hooded jacket, who he’d started mentally labeling as “Hoodie,” kept a firm hold on the rope tied to Y/N’s wrists. Next to him, “Masky” adjusted his mask now and then, his hand resting casually on an iron crowbar, as if he could swing it at a moment’s notice.

“What’s the plan with this one?” Masky asked Hoodie, his tone laced with irritation.

Hoodie shrugged, not looking back. “Not sure. Could be another one of Slender’s tests, or maybe just… a little fun.” His voice had an eerie calmness that made Y/N’s skin crawl.

Y/N scoffed under his breath, though he was careful not to be too loud. “Slender? Tests? You’ve got to be kidding me. What am I, the unlucky tourist of the year?”

The two figures didn’t seem to hear him, and Y/N couldn’t decide if that was good or bad. They were too absorbed in their own conversation. Masky shook his head in exasperation, muttering, “We don’t usually waste time with randoms. If he’s not here for something, why don’t we just get rid of him?”

Hoodie shot him a glance. “Because, we don’t know yet. Besides, if he’s wandered this far in and lasted this long, he’s either lucky… or useful.”

“Useful?” Y/N mumbled to himself, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, sure. Let me tell you all about how useful I am for a midnight hostage situation.”

Masky glanced over his shoulder, noticing Y/N mumbling and struggling slightly against the ropes. “You got something to say, ‘Rabbit’? Or are you just gonna keep complaining like that’ll change anything?”

Y/N clenched his jaw, trying not to let his frustration show too much. “Oh, I’d love to say something. Maybe something like, ‘What’s with the masks, huh? Isn’t Halloween over?’ Or maybe, ‘A little hospitality would be nice,’ but I doubt that’s on the agenda, is it?”

Masky’s chuckle was low and humorless as he tightened his grip on the crowbar. “Smart mouth on this one, huh? That’s okay. We’ve got all night to get you to quiet down.”

Hoodie interrupted, his voice sharper. “Enough. We’re not here to entertain him.” He shot a look at Y/N, his expression unreadable beneath his hood. “But you’d better start thinking real hard about why you’re here, ‘cause out here, only one person’s in charge, and he doesn’t take kindly to… strangers.”

Y/N couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his spine. He didn’t know who these guys were, what this “Slender” person had to do with anything, or why these masked killers seemed so coordinated, but he knew one thing—he had to find a way out. As he was pulled deeper into the forest, Y/N’s mind raced, searching for an opportunity, a weakness, anything he could use to slip free. But the two figures stayed alert, their eyes scanning the woods as if they knew exactly where they were headed.

Masky nudged Hoodie, speaking low enough that Y/N barely caught it. “Think he knows about the others?” he asked, jerking a thumb back toward Y/N.

“Doubt it,” Hoodie replied, “but we’ll find out soon enough.”

Y/N swallowed.

The abandoned house loomed ahead, its rusty exterior blending into the dense, shadowy forest around it. The windows were cracked or entirely shattered, and the wooden boards that once supported the porch creaked ominously as Hoodie and Masky pushed Y/N forward.

“Move,” Hoodie muttered, the shotgun casually resting on his shoulder but no less threatening.

Y/N let out a quiet sigh, glaring ahead as he was herded toward the front door. His wrists ached from the ropes, and the cold air bit at his skin. He wanted to argue, to push back, but the glint of Hoodie’s shotgun reminded him that talking back wasn’t a great option right now.

Inside, the house was just as decrepit as the outside. Dust coated every surface, cobwebs hung like curtains in the corners, and the floor creaked with each step. The walls were lined with peeling wallpaper, revealing stained wood underneath. But what caught Y/N’s attention was the strange mix of the old and new. There were items scattered around—tools, random supplies, even canned food—that looked surprisingly fresh compared to the decaying structure they were in.

“Do you guys actually live like this?” Y/N muttered, glancing around. “Not exactly cozy, is it?”

Masky scoffed, shoving Y/N into a rickety chair in the middle of the room. “Oh, we’re sorry, ‘Rabbit.’ Should we roll out a red carpet next time?”

Y/N huffed, deciding not to rise to the bait. As he sat there, his eyes wandered across the room. That’s when he noticed something strange. The walls, despite their grime, were covered in the same bizarre symbols he’d seen before. Circles with Xs through them. Stick figures with unnaturally long limbs. He furrowed his brows, a chill running through him.

“What’s with the art exhibit?” Y/N asked, nodding toward one of the symbols. “I saw one outside the forest before, did you put them there?.”

Neither Hoodie nor Masky answered. Hoodie leaned his shotgun against the wall and began sorting through a pile of papers on a nearby table. Masky, however, took a more direct approach. He raised his crowbar and banged it against the floor, the loud metallic clang echoing through the house and making Y/N flinch.

“Eyes here, Rabbit,” Masky said, his tone sharp. “You don’t need to worry about the walls. You need to worry about us.”

Y/N swallowed hard, his gaze darting between the two men. “Right. Of course. Can’t forget the dynamic duo with a crowbar and a shotgun.” He forced a smirk despite the growing unease settling in his chest.

Masky took a step closer, looming over Y/N. “You think you’re funny, huh? Let me tell you something—you’re real lucky Hoodie wanted to bring you here instead of leaving you out there for the others.”

“The others?” Y/N echoed, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice.

Hoodie finally spoke, his voice low and calm. “You’ve seen the drawings, haven’t you? You’ve felt it, too. This forest isn’t just a place. It’s his.”

Y/N frowned, the words sinking in like a lead weight. “His? Who’s his? What, you guys got some cult leader out here or something?”

Neither of them answered, but the tension in the room thickened. Hoodie’s hand lingered on the shotgun while Masky tapped the crowbar against his palm, his mask hiding whatever expression he might’ve had.

For the first time since stumbling into this nightmare, Y/N felt a deeper, gnawing sense of dread. Whatever this was, it wasn’t just about a bunch of killers playing cat and mouse in the woods. This was something much, much worse. And he was right in the middle of it.

Y/N sat stiffly in the creaky chair, his pulse pounding as Hoodie sat across from him, flipping through a stack of papers. He stopped on one, holding up a crude drawing of a tall, faceless figure with unnervingly long, spider-like arms. The sight was chillingly familiar—too familiar.

“You’ve seen this thing before, haven’t you?” Hoodie asked, his voice quiet but intense.

Y/N hesitated, his eyes darting between the drawing and Hoodie’s concealed face. “I’ve… maybe,” he muttered, trying to sound nonchalant. “Looks like some creepy art project.”

CLANG!

Y/N flinched violently as Masky slammed the iron crowbar onto the floor. The metallic sound reverberated through the small, decrepit room, making Y/N’s ears ring. Masky leaned in closer, his masked face inches from Y/N’s, his tone razor-sharp.

“Don’t play dumb,” Masky growled. “You’ve seen it. We know you have. Tell us everything, or you’ll regret it.”

Y/N’s throat tightened, but he forced himself to breathe evenly. The memory of the faceless figure and the glitches surged in his mind—the same visions that haunted him on the bus, in the woods, and in his nightmares. He couldn’t deny it.

“Alright, fine!” Y/N snapped. “I’ve seen it. The… the tall guy. In my dreams, in the forest. Hell, I even saw those symbols on the trees. I don’t know what it is, but it’s not normal.”

Hoodie leaned back in his chair, exchanging a glance with Masky. “Not normal,” Hoodie echoed, almost to himself. He stared at the drawing in his hands before placing it on the table between them. “You’re right about that. It’s not normal. But do you know what it wants?”

Y/N shook his head. “How would I know? It’s not like the thing left a damn instruction manual.”

Masky huffed behind him, pacing as the crowbar dragged along the floor with a grating noise. “He’s dangerous,” Masky muttered. “And he doesn’t like when people notice him. Trust me, Rabbit, if you’ve seen him, you’re already in deep.”

Y/N narrowed his eyes. “Then what about you two? You’re acting like you know what it is. Why are you even asking me?”

Hoodie sighed, leaning forward. “Because we don’t really know. Not fully. We’ve seen the signs—heard the stories—but we’ve never seen him in person. And we don’t want to.”

Masky stopped pacing, standing directly behind Y/N. “We’re not his allies, Rabbit,” he said coldly. “We’re working against him. And the fact that you’ve seen him means you’re in the same game whether you like it or not.”

Y/N blinked, trying to process their words. “Wait. So, you’re not working for him? Then why the hell did you tie me up? What’s the point of all this?”

Hoodie exchanged a glance with Masky before answering. “Because we needed to know if you were a threat,” Hoodie said. “If he’s already gotten into your head, you could be dangerous—to us and anyone else around here. We’ve seen what happens to people he gets his hooks into. They don’t stay… themselves for long.”

Y/N shivered, remembering the glitches, the pain, the black void in his dreams. “So what now? You’re just going to keep me here?”

Masky chuckled dryly, twirling the crowbar in his hand. “Depends on you, Rabbit. If you’re useful, maybe we’ll let you live.”

Hoodie shot Masky a look but didn’t contradict him. “For now, you stay here. We’ll figure out what to do with you once we’re sure you’re not compromised.”

Y/N gritted his teeth, frustration and fear bubbling beneath the surface. But he kept his mouth shut. For now, playing along seemed like the only way to survive.

Chapter Text

As Y/N’s exhausted breathing softened into the quiet rhythm of sleep, Hoodie stood from his chair. His footsteps were near silent as he approached the makeshift cot where Y/N was tied. The dim light of the lantern flickered against the cracked walls, casting shifting shadows that danced across the room.

Masky leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, the crowbar resting lazily on his shoulder. “What are you doing now?” he asked, his tone laced with mild irritation.

“Just checking,” Hoodie murmured without looking back. He crouched beside Y/N, his movements careful as he examined the sleeping figure.

Masky scoffed. “You’re wasting your time. There’s nothing special about him. He’s just some unlucky idiot who got caught up in this mess.” He gestured vaguely with the crowbar. “If Slenderman’s hunting him, it’s probably because he sneezed wrong near one of those symbols.”

Hoodie didn’t respond, his attention focused on Y/N’s leg. He pushed aside the torn fabric of the pants, revealing the spot where the bear trap had clamped down just hours ago. His brow furrowed as he inspected the skin.

“What the hell?” he muttered, leaning in closer.

Masky straightened, his interest piqued. “What is it?”

Hoodie looked up, his eyes narrowing behind his mask. “The wound… it’s gone. Completely healed.”

Masky frowned, walking over to take a look for himself. “What do you mean ‘healed’? That trap nearly shredded his leg.”

“Exactly,” Hoodie said, his voice low. He gestured at the unbroken skin. “It’s like it never happened. Not even a scar.”

Masky crouched down, squinting at Y/N’s leg. “That’s… not normal.” He tapped the crowbar lightly against the floor, his mind clearly racing. “What are we dealing with here? Some kind of… supernatural thing? Is he one of them?”

Hoodie shook his head slowly. “Doesn’t seem like it. He doesn’t know anything about Slenderman, or us, for that matter. He’s just as lost as anyone else.”

Masky leaned back, a skeptical look in his eyes. “Then why’s he got Slenderman breathing down his neck? If he’s just some regular guy, why’s he so important?”

Hoodie didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he glanced back at Y/N, who shifted slightly in his sleep, mumbling incoherently. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But this… this changes things. If he can heal like that, maybe he’s not as ordinary as he seems.”

Masky sighed, standing up and tapping the crowbar against his palm. “Great. So now we’re babysitting some kind of freak with a target on his back.”

Hoodie shot him a look. “We’re not babysitting. We’re figuring out what’s going on—and why.”

Masky chuckled darkly. “Yeah, well, let’s hope we figure it out before Slenderman decides to stop playing games and comes for him directly. Because if that thing shows up… we’re all screwed.”

Hoodie didn’t respond, his gaze lingering on Y/N. This one had secrets—secrets even he didn’t seem to know about. And whatever those secrets were, they’d just made things a whole lot more complicated.

“I will go get some more firewood” Hoodie said before leaving.

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The quiet hum of the night began to settle as Y/N stirred from sleep, his eyes blinking groggily as he adjusted to the dim light in the room. It wasn’t the nightmare-ridden kind of waking he had grown accustomed to; for once, he felt like he’d actually rested. He shifted slightly, wincing as the tight bindings reminded him of his situation. His stomach growled audibly, and he sighed. It had been far too long since he’d eaten anything substantial.

Across the room, Masky sat hunched over in a rickety chair, a knife in one hand and a chunk of wood in the other. He was carving something, though the dim light made it hard to tell what. The steady scrape of the blade against wood filled the air, rhythmic and oddly calming. Hoodie was nowhere in sight, leaving the two alone.

Y/N cleared his throat, trying to break the awkward silence. “So… do you guys ever untie people, or is this just your thing? Keep everyone tied up like a roast turkey?”

Masky didn’t look up, his attention fixed on his carving. “Depends,” he muttered gruffly.

“On what?” Y/N asked, trying to mask the annoyance in his voice.

Masky shrugged. “If they’re useful enough.”

Y/N rolled his eyes. “Great. Glad to know I’m considered somewhat useful.” He shifted uncomfortably, his stomach growling again. “Speaking of being useful, I did tell you everything I know. The least you could do is throw me a crumb or two.”

Masky paused his carving, the knife still in his hand. He glanced over at Y/N, his expression unreadable behind the mask, then let out a low grunt. “Fine.”

He stood, walked to a corner of the room where a bag of supplies sat, and rummaged around. After a moment, he pulled out a dented can of something that looked suspiciously like dog food. Y/N raised an eyebrow as Masky popped the lid open and grabbed a spoon.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Y/N muttered, watching as Masky approached with the can.

Masky crouched in front of him, holding up the can. “Eat or don’t. I don’t care.”

“I could feed myself, you know,” Y/N said, nodding toward the ropes binding his wrists. “Unless you think I’m going to hurl this can at your head and make a run for it.”

Masky didn’t answer. Instead, he scooped a spoonful from the can and held it out toward Y/N.

Y/N stared at him, incredulous. “Seriously? You’re spoon-feeding me now? What are we, on a weird survivalist date?”

Masky huffed. “Shut up and eat.”

Y/N sighed, opening his mouth reluctantly as Masky shoved the spoon toward him. The taste was as bad as he expected—bland, metallic, and vaguely meaty. He grimaced but swallowed it down. “You really know how to treat your prisoners.”

“Don’t push your luck,” Masky muttered, scooping another spoonful.

As Y/N chewed, he glanced at Masky. “Why don’t you just untie me? I’m not going anywhere. And, you know, I could eat without feeling like a toddler.”

Masky didn’t answer immediately, his eyes narrowing slightly as he continued to feed him. When he finally spoke, his tone was flat. “No.”

Y/N snorted. “No? That’s it? No explanation? Just a solid ‘no’?”

“Don’t need to explain myself to you, you already know it yourself ” Masky replied, his voice laced with annoyance. “You’re tied up for a reason.”

“And that reason is?” Y/N pressed, more out of boredom than actual hope of getting an answer.

Masky didn’t respond already finding this annoying , focusing instead on the next spoonful. The silence hung heavy between them as Y/N reluctantly opened his mouth again. He chewed slowly, watching Masky’s every move.

“You know,” Y/N said, his tone light, “this whole strong, silent thing you’ve got going on is really working for you. Super intimidating. But maybe, just maybe, you could lighten up a little. I’m not exactly in a position to stab you with a spork or something.”

Masky’s eyes flicked up briefly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth before he hid it behind his usual gruff demeanor. “Keep talking, and I’ll take the food away.”

Y/N chuckled despite himself, the small victory of making Masky crack even a little lifting his spirits. He swallowed another bite and leaned back as much as the ropes would allow. “Fine, fine. No more talking. But seriously, this hospitality? A solid two out of ten.”

Masky shook his head, muttering something under his breath before turning back to his carving, leaving Y/N to sit in relative silence. Despite the situation, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a flicker of amusement. If he was going to be stuck here, he might as well have a little fun with it before he die.

The crackling of the fire filled the silence as Hoodie returned, arms loaded with firewood. He dropped the logs into the flames without ceremony, sending sparks scattering upward into the night. Y/N watched him and Masky talking in low voices, their words indistinct. He sighed, shifting slightly in his bonds, and stared into the flickering light.

His mind wandered to Ingressus, his best friend from the facility. The memory hit hard and fast, as it always did—Ingressus lying limp in his arms, their face pale and lifeless. He could still feel the cold seeping through their uniform as he clutched them close, his voice hoarse from screaming for someone—anyone—to save them. The sterile walls of the facility, the blood pooling around them, the smell of death—it was all too vivid, even now.

Y/N swallowed hard, his chest tightening. He missed Ingressus. He missed his family, too. What were they doing now? Did they even know he was alive? Or had they already buried an empty coffin, grieving a son they thought was gone forever? The weight of it all pressed down on him, threatening to drag him into the dark pit he tried so hard to avoid.

Lost in thought, he didn’t notice Hoodie approaching until it was too late. He looked up to find Hoodie standing directly in front of him, his blank mask mere inches from Y/N’s face.

“Gah!” Y/N yelped, startled so badly he leaned back too far. The chair he was tied to tipped over, sending him crashing to the ground with a loud thud.

“Ow,” Y/N groaned, blinking up at the ceiling as he tried to process what just happened. Hoodie, still standing over him, tilted his head slightly, as if puzzled by the reaction. He crouched down, staring at Y/N in silence, his mask unreadable.

“Could you not sneak up on people like that?” Y/N snapped, wiggling in his bindings. “Seriously, what is your deal? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Masky, still seated near the fire, turned to see what was going on. He tilted his head in Hoodie’s direction, his posture screaming, What now?

Y/N grumbled, trying to right himself but failing miserably with his hands tied. “A little help would be nice, you know.”

Masky just stared for a moment before the corners of his mouth twitched. He tried to suppress it, but it was no use. A laugh escaped him—short and sharp at first, then louder as he gave in completely.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Y/N muttered, glaring at Masky as his laughter filled the room. “Glad my suffering is so entertaining for you.”

Even Hoodie seemed to react, his head tilting ever so slightly as if in amusement. He stood, his movements eerily calm, and leaned down to lift the chair back upright. Y/N sat there, scowling as Masky’s laughter finally started to die down.

“You two are the worst,” Y/N said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Really. Top-notch kidnappers. If you ever decide to go pro, I’ll write you a glowing review.”

Masky wiped a tear from his eye, finally regaining his composure. “You’re… surprisingly entertaining for someone who talks too much.”

Y/N huffed. “Glad I could make your night. Now, can we move on from humiliating me, or is this just your evening entertainment?”

Hoodie stood silently, his mask tilting slightly as he looked between Masky and Y/N. Without a word, he returned to the fire, leaving Y/N to stew in his frustration and faint embarrassment.

Chapter Text

Living with Masky and Hoodie wasn’t as unbearable as Y/N had initially feared. Sure, the two masked figures were intimidating, silent, and sometimes outright unnerving, but as the days passed, he found himself adjusting. They weren’t exactly chatty or warm, but they weren’t unnecessarily cruel either—except for the occasional sarcastic jab from Masky, which Y/N learned to brush off.

By now, Y/N had given them all the information he could about Slenderman and his encounters. Every nightmare, every glimpse of the faceless figure, every strange glitching sound he had heard in the forest—they made him recount it all. Hoodie had even made him write it down, providing a tattered notebook and a pen.

“Write everything,” Hoodie had said simply, his voice low and curt. “Details matter.”

Masky, leaning casually against the wall with his crowbar, had nodded. “And don’t leave anything out, Bunny Boy. We’ll know if you do.”

Y/N had grumbled at the nickname but complied. The notebook now held pages of his messy handwriting, detailing everything from the first time he saw the strange symbols on the bus to the nightmares that left him waking up in a cold sweat. Every time he handed over a completed page, Hoodie would quietly take it, read it over, and add it to an ever-growing pile. They never shared what they thought of his story, but they never called him a liar either.

One day, after what felt like weeks of this strange arrangement, Y/N finally noticed a change in their behavior. He was sitting by the fire, arms still tied in front of him, when Hoodie approached. Without a word, he crouched down and began untying the ropes around Y/N’s wrists.

“Wait—what are you doing?” Y/N asked, pulling back slightly. His wrists ached from being bound for so long, and the relief as the ropes fell away was almost overwhelming.

“You’ve earned some trust,” Hoodie said simply, standing up and pocketing the rope.

Masky, sitting nearby and whittling at a block of wood, looked over with a raised brow. “Don’t let it go to your head,” he muttered. “You’re still a pain in the ass.”

Y/N rubbed his wrists, glancing between the two of them. “Uh… thanks, I guess. But… why now? What changed?”

Hoodie gestured toward the pile of pages Y/N had written. “You’ve been honest. And…” He paused, his head tilting slightly. “Your leg.”

Y/N blinked. “My leg?”

Masky sighed, tossing his wood carving aside. “Yeah, genius. You don’t remember? That bear trap should’ve shredded your leg. Torn muscles, broken bones, the works. But look at you now—walking around like nothing happened.”

Y/N hesitated, glancing down at his leg. It was true—he hadn’t even thought about it since they’d untied him. There wasn’t a scar or a limp, nothing to show for the injury that had him screaming in pain not long ago.

“That’s impossible,” he muttered, frowning. “I thought it was… I don’t know, the way you bandaged it up or something.”

Masky snorted. “Bandaged it? We’re not miracle workers. That kind of healing isn’t normal.”

Hoodie folded his arms, staring at Y/N from behind his blank mask. “We’ve been wondering if there’s more to you. Something… different. It would explain why you’re on his list.”

Y/N felt a chill run down his spine. “You mean Slenderman?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

Hoodie nodded. “He doesn’t go after people without reason. If he’s after you, there’s something about you that he wants—or fears.”

Masky leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “So the question is: what makes you so special, Bunny Boy?”

Y/N didn’t have an answer. He stared at his leg, his mind racing. All this time, he had thought he was just a regular guy caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. But if what they were saying was true, there was more to this than he realized.

“Great,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “First the nightmares, now I’m a walking mystery. Can’t wait to see what’s next.”

Hoodie tilted his head slightly. “Well think quickly” he said, his tone calm but firm. “Because whatever it is… it’s only going to get worse from here.”

………..

The sudden rush to pack up caught Y/N off guard. He sat on the creaky floor, still trying to process the revelation about his apparent significance to Slenderman. Meanwhile, Hoodie and Masky were methodically gathering their belongings, moving with practiced efficiency as though this wasn’t the first time they’d had to uproot and flee.

“What’s going on?” Y/N finally asked, watching Hoodie roll up some maps and shove them into a bag while Masky carefully inspected the edge of his crowbar.

Hoodie glanced over his shoulder. “We can’t stay here,” he said simply, his tone calm but firm.

“Why not?” Y/N pressed, though he already had a sinking feeling he knew the answer.

Masky stopped what he was doing and turned to face Y/N, leaning on the crowbar. “Because of you,” he said bluntly, his voice carrying that usual edge of irritation. “You’re like a walking signal flare for him. If we stay here too long, he will find us.”

Y/N frowned. “Slenderman?” he asked, the name still feeling strange and surreal on his tongue.

Hoodie nodded, tightening the straps on his backpack. “He doesn’t just hunt aimlessly. He follows patterns, tracks people who’ve crossed his path—or worse, people he’s marked. And you? You’re marked.”

The weight of their words settled on Y/N like a heavy blanket. He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated but unable to argue. “Great. Fantastic.”

Masky smirked slightly, though it wasn’t a kind expression. “Welcome to the club, Bunny Boy. Now make yourself useful and pack something.”

As Y/N stood up, Hoodie tossed something at him. Reflexively, he caught it, only to look down and see a dented frying pan in his hands. He stared at it, unimpressed. “A pan? Seriously? You’ve got a shotgun and a crowbar, and I get a pan?”

Masky snickered, clearly amused by Y/N’s indignation. “What, you think we’re handing you a weapon that actually matters? You’d just get yourself killed.”

Y/N glared at him but wisely chose not to argue. It wasn’t like he was in any position to demand better gear, especially since both of them were still armed and looked ready to use those weapons if necessary. With a resigned sigh, he shoved the pan into a nearby bag and started helping pack up.

The abandoned house, which had felt like a prison at first, now seemed oddly comforting compared to the uncertainty of what lay ahead. As they worked in silence, Y/N couldn’t help but glance at the strange symbols scrawled on the walls, the ones that had haunted his nightmares for weeks. He wondered if leaving this place would really help—or if the faceless creature would find him no matter where they went.

When everything was packed, Hoodie hoisted his bag onto his back and turned to Y/N. “Stick close to us. Don’t wander. And don’t do anything stupid.”

Masky gave him a pointed look, swinging his crowbar over his shoulder. “Yeah, because if you screw this up, it’s not just you he’s coming after—it’s us too. Got it?”

Y/N nodded, gripping the strap of his bag tightly. “Yeah, I got it.”

With that, the three of them stepped out into the twilight, leaving the abandoned house behind. The air was cool and still, the forest around them eerily quiet. Y/N walked between Masky and Hoodie, feeling the weight of the pan in his bag and the even heavier weight of their situation pressing down on him.

The forest seemed endless, an oppressive maze of towering trees and thick, swirling fog. Each step Y/N took was accompanied by the sharp crunch of dead leaves beneath his boots, the sound echoing faintly in the stillness. The silence was unnerving, broken only by the occasional rustle of distant branches, as if something unseen were moving just out of sight. The air was damp and heavy, and Y/N found himself constantly glancing over his shoulder, half-expecting to see the faceless creature from his nightmares lurking in the shadows.

He quickened his pace to keep up with the two men ahead of him—Hoodie and Masky, as he’d heard them called before. They moved with purpose, as if they knew exactly where they were going, though Y/N couldn’t fathom how. Every part of this forest looked the same to him: endless rows of skeletal trees, thick roots snaking across the ground like traps waiting to trip him up.

For a while, they walked in silence, the tension thick between them. Y/N’s eyes flicked between the two men. Hoodie was calm, his movements steady and deliberate, while Masky seemed perpetually annoyed, his posture stiff and his pace slightly faster, as though he wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

Y/N hesitated, feeling the weight of the quiet pressing down on him. Finally, he cleared his throat. “So… you guys got actual names, or do I just keep calling you Hoodie and Masky?”

Hoodie slowed his steps, glancing back at Y/N. Though his face was obscured by his mask and hood, his body language was more relaxed, as though he wasn’t offended by the question. “Brian,” he said simply. “Brian Thomas.”

Y/N nodded, repeating the name in his head. “Alright, Brian. Got it.”

He turned his attention to Masky, who didn’t slow down or even bother looking back. “And you?” Y/N pressed. “Or do I just stick with Masky?”

Masky let out an irritated groan, his hand twitching slightly as if he was considering turning around to shut Y/N up. “Tim,” he muttered. “Tim Wright.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow at his sharp tone but decided not to push it. “Well, nice to meet you… I guess,” he said, his voice light, though the tension in the air remained palpable.

Tim finally turned his head slightly, just enough to give Y/N a pointed glare from behind his mask. “Yeah, sure. Whatever. Let’s just keep moving.”

Y/N rolled his eyes but kept quiet, knowing better than to poke the bear. Brian, however, chuckled softly, the sound barely audible over the crunch of leaves. “Don’t mind him,” he said. “Tim’s not exactly a people person.”

“I noticed,” Y/N replied with a small smirk, glancing between the two men.

The exchange, while brief, seemed to break some of the tension. They continued walking, the silence returning but feeling a little less suffocating. Y/N found himself watching the two men with a mix of curiosity and caution. Despite their rough edges, they had kept him alive so far, and for that, he was grudgingly grateful.

Still, a nagging thought tugged at the back of his mind. He couldn’t shake the feeling …..many eyes is watching

Chapter Text

The journey through the endless forest stretched on with no sign of stopping. Tim and Brian moved with a relentless pace, as if the very ground beneath them was chasing them forward. Y/N, trailing a few steps behind, had no choice but to keep up. His legs ached, his lungs burned, and every now and then, they’d stop briefly to rest against a tree. But even then, the breaks were fleeting—no more than a few minutes before the two men pushed on again, dragging Y/N back into the thick of the woods.

Y/N leaned against one particularly gnarled tree, catching his breath and glaring at the two figures ahead of him. “Do you two even know where we’re going?” he asked, his tone sharp and laced with frustration. “Or are we just walking until we drop dead?”

Brian remained calm as usual, adjusting the strap of his shotgun as he scanned the surrounding forest. “We know where we’re going,” he said, his voice steady. “We just can’t take the most direct route.”

“Why not?” Y/N pressed, throwing his hands up. “It’s not like this forest gets any easier to navigate. Every tree looks the same! It’s—”

“You ask too many questions,” Tim snapped, spinning around to glare at him. His hand rested on the iron crowbar at his side, and Y/N could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his grip tightened like he was seconds away from swinging it.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, not intimidated by Tim’s hostility. “Sorry for wanting to know if we’re heading to safety or just walking in circles until Slenderman decides to show up.”

Tim looked like he was about to fire back when Brian stepped between them. “Enough,” he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Let’s keep moving.”

The group trudged forward in silence, the fog hanging heavier than ever. Y/N fell back into his thoughts, the tension between him and Tim simmering but not boiling over. Still, his patience wore thin with each passing hour. His questions buzzed in his head like an unrelenting swarm of bees, but Tim’s volatile temper made him hesitate to speak again.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Y/N couldn’t help himself. “Are we close or not? Because if we’re not—”

Before he could finish, Tim lunged at him. Y/N yelped, thinking Tim had finally had enough of his talking. But instead of hitting him, Tim grabbed the front of Y/N’s shirt and yanked him down to the ground.

“What the hell—!” Y/N started to shout, but Tim clamped a hand over his mouth, silencing him.

An axe came flying out of the fog, slamming into the tree Y/N had been standing in front of. The blade embedded itself deep into the bark with a sickening thunk, quivering from the force of the throw.

Y/N’s eyes went wide as he stared at the weapon, his pulse thundering in his ears. His breath hitched, and a sickening sense of déjà vu washed over him. That axe—it was the same one. The same weapon that had nearly taken him out before.

Tim released him and stood, crowbar at the ready. Brian was already moving, shotgun in hand as his eyes darted through the fog. “We’ve got company,” Brian said grimly.

Y/N scrambled to his feet, his heart pounding in his chest. “Wait, what—what do you mean company?” he stammered, his gaze darting from the axe to the dense fog around them.

Two figures emerged from the haze, their steps eerily quiet despite the crunch of leaves underfoot. All to families ……The first was a lanky, pale man with a twisted grin that stretched unnaturally wide across his face. His bloodstained hoodie and the gleam of a knife in his hand still sent a chill down Y/N’s spine. The second was younger, with wild eyes and a manic energy in his movements. He twirled another axe in his hand like it was a toy, his fingers gripping the handle with an unsettling familiarity.

Y/N’s stomach dropped. He didn’t know their names, but he recognized them all too well. These were the same hunters who had pursued him before, the ones who had nearly cornered him in the woods days ago. The twisted smile on the pale man’s face, the unnerving laugh from the axe-wielder—it was burned into his memory.

“What the hell are they doing here? I thought I lost them” Y/N whispered, his voice trembling.

Tim glanced back at him, his expression dark. “Stay behind us,” he ordered, his grip on the crowbar tightening.

Brian’s shotgun was already raised, his finger hovering over the trigger as he took a step forward. “Jeff,” he called out, his voice cutting through the fog. “Toby.”

The pale man—Jeff—let out a low, humorless laugh, his grin widening. “Well, well, looks like we’ve found you again,” he said, his tone mocking. His cold, empty eyes flicked to Y/N, and his grin grew sharper. “And you’ve brought friends this time. How cute.”

The younger man—Toby—giggled, twirling his axe with a flourish before pointing it at Y/N. “We’ve b-b-been l-looking for you,” he said, his voice high-pitched and sing-song. “Boss-s isn’t h-h-happy, you know. He wants you back.”

Y/N froze, his mind racing. He didn’t understand what they meant, but the way they spoke sent a chill down his spine. “Boss?” he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jeff’s grin twisted into something even more sinister. “Oh, you’ll find out soon enough.”

Tim stepped in front of Y/N, his crowbar raised defensively. “Over my dead body,” he growled.

“Funny,” Jeff said, tilting his head. “That can be arranged.”

The tension in the air crackled like static as the two sides stared each other down, weapons at the ready. Y/N’s hands trembled as he gripped the frying pan Brian had tossed him earlier. It felt useless against the knife and axes wielded by their pursuers, but it was all he had.

He swallowed hard, his breath shaky as he prepared for the inevitable clash. The nightmare wasn’t over—it was just beginning.

The forest erupted into chaos. The sharp crack of gunfire echoed through the trees, and the metallic clang of weapons colliding rang out like a distorted symphony. Y/N could barely catch his breath, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it would burst out of his chest. He stumbled backward, gripping the useless frying pan in his hands, his eyes darting between Tim and Brian.

“Move!” Tim barked, grabbing Y/N by the arm and yanking him forward. “Don’t just stand there!”

Brian was already a few paces ahead, his shotgun raised. He glanced over his shoulder, his sharp eyes scanning the fog for movement. Without warning, he fired a shot, the deafening sound making Y/N flinch.

A laugh rang out from the mist behind them—sharp, chilling, and almost gleeful. Jeff. That twisted grin, the glint of his knife—it was seared into Y/N’s mind. His voice followed, mocking and casual, as though the chase was nothing more than a game.

“Run all you want,” Jeff called out. “We’ll catch you eventually. You can’t outrun us!”

Toby’s voice joined in, stuttering and jittery, his tone teetering between childlike excitement and manic energy. “Yeah! Boss wants you! He needs you! You can’t hide forever!”

The sound of their voices made Y/N’s blood run cold. Every laugh, every stuttered word felt like needles crawling under his skin. He didn’t dare look back; he didn’t want to see their twisted faces again.

Brian didn’t slow down. He fired another shot into the fog, his movements practiced and precise. “Tim, keep moving! I’ve got the rear!” he shouted.

Tim didn’t respond, but his grip on Y/N’s arm tightened as he pulled him forward. Y/N stumbled, struggling to keep up with their relentless pace. The fog seemed thicker now, the trees towering over them like silent spectators. The crunch of leaves and branches underfoot was drowned out by the chaos behind them.

“Why the hell are they still chasing me!?” Y/N gasped, his legs burning from the effort of running.

Tim spared him a quick, annoyed glance. “You’re on Slenderman’s list, remember? They’re just his lapdogs!”

“Lapdogs?! They’re trying to kill me!”

“Exactly,” Tim snapped. “So stop whining and run!”

Y/N pushed himself harder, his lungs screaming for air. His mind raced with thoughts of home—of his family. He wished he had never left. He wished he could turn back time, back to when his biggest worry was what to have for dinner. Instead, he was here, running for his life in a fog-covered forest, pursued by killers with knives and axes.

A loud clang rang out behind them, followed by Brian’s voice. “Keep going! Don’t stop!”

Y/N glanced back, just for a second, and saw Brian fire another shot. Jeff was still there, that same deranged grin plastered across his face as he moved toward them, seemingly unfazed. Toby darted through the fog like a shadow, his axe gleaming in the dim light.

“Don’t look back!” Tim yelled, yanking Y/N’s arm again.

“I wasn’t—!” Y/N started, but he bit his tongue and forced himself to focus on the path ahead. His legs felt like they were moving on their own, faster than he thought possible. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, pushing him beyond his limits.

The trees blurred around him, the fog closing in like a suffocating blanket. His chest heaved as he ran, his mind filled with nothing but the sound of their pursuers’ laughter and the pounding of his own heartbeat.

“Home,” he whispered to himself, barely audible over the chaos. “I just want to go home.”

But home felt like a distant dream, something he couldn’t reach no matter how fast he ran. For now, survival was all that mattered. And as Tim and Brian dragged him deeper into the forest, he realized just how far he was from the life he had once known.

The air grew colder, heavier, as Y/N’s realization hit him like a punch to the gut: there had been three killers before, not two. His mind raced, piecing together memories of the last time he was hunted. He remembered the shadows, the relentless attacks, and that unnerving, silent third figure.

Now, as he scanned the foggy forest, movement near one of the towering trees caught his eye. His stomach dropped. It was too fast, too calculated—like a predator stalking prey.

“Tim!” Y/N shouted, panic overtaking him.

Tim turned his head, confused, just as a figure leapt from the branches above. Y/N reacted instinctively, shoving Tim out of the way with all his strength. The next moment was a blur.

A flash of glinting steel. A cold, sharp pain slicing through Y/N’s chest. His breath hitched as the force knocked him backward, his body crumpling to the forest floor. He groaned in pain, clutching at the wound as warmth spread under his fingers.

The figure stood over him, eerily calm and deliberate, a dark, faceless mask concealing any emotion. The creature’s claws dripped with fresh blood—his blood. Y/N stared up at it, feeling a wave of cold dread wash over him. He didn’t need to know its name to recognize it: this was the one who had attacked him before. The silent one.

Tim scrambled back to his feet, his crowbar gripped tightly in his hands. “Get off him!” he roared, charging at the masked figure without hesitation.

Eyeless Jack turned to face him, moving with a fluidity that made it look almost inhuman. Tim swung the crowbar, but Jack sidestepped it effortlessly, his claws slicing toward Tim’s chest. Tim narrowly avoided the attack, gritting his teeth as he tried to land a hit.

Y/N struggled to stay conscious, his vision swimming as pain radiated from his wound. He could hear the clash of metal and the sound of Tim’s strained breathing, but it all felt distant, like he was underwater.

“Brian!” Tim shouted, his voice breaking through the fog in Y/N’s mind.

Brian was already moving, his shotgun raised as he fired toward Jack. The blast sent the masked figure staggering back, but it wasn’t enough to stop him. Jack moved with unnatural speed, darting to the side as he closed the distance between himself and Brian.

Before Brian could react, a familiar, deranged laugh echoed through the forest. Jeff and Toby were closing in, their shadows cutting through the fog like wolves closing in on their prey.

“Brian, behind you!” Y/N croaked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Brian turned, just in time to see Jeff’s knife gleaming in the faint light. He ducked, narrowly avoiding the slash, and fired another shot. The bullet grazed Jeff’s shoulder, but the killer barely flinched, his grin widening as though he thrived on the chaos.

Toby wasn’t far behind, his axe swinging wildly as he charged toward the group. The sound of metal hitting the ground sent chills through Y/N’s already trembling body.

Tim was now stuck between trying to fend off Eyeless Jack and keeping an eye on the two approaching killers. “This is bad—really bad,” he muttered, his voice strained.

Y/N groaned, forcing himself to sit up despite the pain tearing through his chest. His breaths were shallow, his hands slick with blood, but he knew he couldn’t just sit there. They were cornered, outnumbered, and running out of options.

The chaos around him felt suffocating. The sound of laughter, the clash of weapons, and the ragged breathing of his companions all blurred together in a cacophony of survival.

“Get up,” Y/N whispered to himself, his voice shaky. “You have to get up.”

He pressed his hand against his wound, gritting his teeth as he forced his body to move. He couldn’t just be a burden—not now. If they didn’t find a way out, none of them were making it out alive.

Through the haze of pain and fear, Y/N’s mind raced for a plan, for anything that could tip the odds in their favor. But as Eyeless Jack turned his attention back to him, claws gleaming, Y/N knew the fight was far from over.

Fuck…

Chapter Text

Tim grunted as he swung his crowbar with all his might, the weight of the situation evident in every blow. Eyeless Jack moved fluidly, almost gracefully, dodging each strike as if it were a rehearsed dance. Tim was relentless, but it was clear that he was tiring. Jack’s strength and speed were overwhelming, and the constant evasion only fueled Tim’s frustration.

Nearby, Brian was barely holding his ground against both Jeff and Toby. Jeff’s sadistic grin never faltered as he taunted Brian, slashing with his knife while Toby swung his axe with reckless abandon. The odds were stacked against them, and Brian knew it. Every blocked attack, every step backward, only brought them closer to defeat.

Y/N, slumped against a tree, coughed violently as his breathing became labored. His chest burned with every inhale, blood still trickling from the deep wound Jack had inflicted. The metallic taste of it lingered in his mouth, a grim reminder of his mortality. For a moment, his vision blurred, and the chaos around him faded into the background.

Pain. Blood. Chaos.

It felt all too familiar. Memories began to surface—memories he had tried so hard to bury. Back when he was a soldier, this was his life. The screams of comrades, the gut-wrenching pain of injuries, the cold reality of watching people die. He remembered clutching his rifle as bullets flew past him, remembered the bodies that fell and never got back up. Pain was nothing new. Death was nothing new.

But what haunted him most was the fear. The fear of dying for nothing.

He clenched his fists, his breathing shallow as he fought back the wave of emotion threatening to drown him. He could still hear his commanding officer’s voice in his head, barking orders. “You move forward, or you die where you stand. Those are the only choices!”

Y/N coughed again, his body trembling as he forced himself to focus on the present. The forest was eerily similar to the warzones he had been in—foggy, hostile, and full of dangers lurking around every corner. He was no longer a soldier, but the principle remained the same. He could lie there and let the pain consume him, or he could move forward, even if it meant dragging his broken body through the mud.

His fingers brushed against something cold and metallic. The pan.

Y/N’s eyes locked onto it, the dull surface reflecting the flickering light . It was absurd—a cooking pan, of all things they have to give him. But as ridiculous as it was, it was something. A weapon. A chance.

Gritting his teeth, Y/N reached for the pan, the motion sending a fresh wave of pain through his chest. He groaned, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. His breath hitched as he slowly got to his knees, his free hand pressing against the ground for support. Unbeknownst to him, the wound on his chest was starting to close, the edges knitting together at an unnatural speed.

Tim and Brian were too distracted to notice.

Tim was locked in a desperate struggle with Jack, their weapons clashing with every swing. Brian, meanwhile, had his hands full with Jeff and Toby, the killers’ relentless attacks forcing him to backpedal.

Then, Y/N saw it. Jeff, with his maniacal grin, was circling Brian, knife in hand. Brian, focused on Toby’s axe, didn’t see the blade coming for him.

…no

Without thinking, Y/N grabbed the pan and hurled it with every ounce of strength he had left.

CLANG!

The sound was deafening, cutting through the chaos like a gunshot. The pan hit Jeff square in the face, the force of the impact sending him stumbling backward with a shocked grunt. Blood trickled from his nose as his grin faltered, replaced by a look of pure rage.

Y/N was on his feet now, panting heavily as he glared at Jeff. His chest heaved, his body trembling from the effort, but he refused to fall again.

Brian turned, wide-eyed, as he realized how close he had come to being stabbed. His gaze flicked to Y/N, standing there with nothing but raw determination in his eyes.

“what the hell—” Brian started, but his words caught in his throat.

Y/N didn’t respond. He could feel the adrenaline surging through him, dulling the pain, sharpening his senses. His chest wound no longer throbbed, but he was too focused to question why. All that mattered now was survival.

His wound finally heal fully

Tim, still struggling with Jack, glanced over at the commotion. “What the—”

But there was no time for questions. Jeff had recovered from the hit, his grin returning as he licked the blood from his lips. “You’re dead, bunny ” he sneered, his voice dripping with malice.

Y/N tightened his grip on the pan back, his resolve unwavering. “Not today,” he muttered under his breath, ready to face whatever came next.

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The forest was alive with chaos. The clashing of weapons, the heavy crunch of boots on the forest floor, and the guttural grunts of effort filled the air as the fight raged on. Jeff lunged at Y/N with his knife, the blade glinting ominously even in the foggy light. Y/N barely sidestepped in time, the blade slicing through the air just inches from his side.

“You’re tougher than you look,” Jeff taunted, his grin widening as if he were enjoying the challenge. “But let’s see how long you last before I carve that pretty face of yours.”

Y/N, gripping the pan tightly, refused to back down. He swung it with all his might, aiming for Jeff’s head again, but the killer was faster this time. Jeff ducked under the swing and countered with a sharp slash, forcing Y/N to leap back. His chest ached, his breath came in sharp gasps, but he pushed forward. He wasn’t about to let this psychopath win.

Meanwhile, Tim and Eyeless Jack were locked in a brutal exchange. Jack’s movements were calculated and precise, his cold demeanor betraying no emotion. But there was an edge of frustration in his voice now. “We don’t have time for this,” Jack growled, his voice low and gravelly. “Finish them already. We need to bring the target to him.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m working on it!” Jeff yelled back, his tone mocking even as he dodged another swing of the pan. “Maybe if you weren’t so busy sulking, we’d already be done.”

“Shut it, J-J-Jeff,” Toby barked, his axe swinging wildly as he clashed with Brian. Brian ducked low and slashed with his knife, catching Toby across the leg and causing him to stumble. But even injured, Toby let out a maniacal laugh, his energy seemingly endless “This I-is fun! Why r-rush a g-good time?”

Brian gritted his teeth, sweat dripping down his face as he parried another strike. “You call this fun?” he muttered under his breath, shoving Toby back with all his strength. He glanced toward Tim, who was still fending off Jack, and Y/N, who was locked in a desperate fight with Jeff. The odds weren’t in their favor, and they all knew it.

Jack, clearly growing more irritated, blocked Tim’s crowbar with a swift motion and shoved him back. “Enough of this,” Jack said coldly. His eyes flicked toward Y/N, who was barely holding his own against Jeff. “He’s the priority. Deal with the others if you want, but we need him alive.”

“Alive?” Jeff laughed, feinting a strike to throw Y/N off balance. “Where’s the fun in that?” He lunged again, but Y/N, fueled by sheer determination, managed to sidestep and bring the pan down hard on Jeff’s shoulder. The loud clang echoed through the forest, and Jeff stumbled with a pained grunt. “You little—” Jeff snarled.

Jack broke free from Tim’s grip, his claws slashing wildly as he spun around to face his attacker. “Enough of this!” Jack snarled. His cold, calculated demeanor was gone, replaced by unbridled rage. His movements became faster, more brutal, forcing Tim to stumble backward. One claw swiped across Tim’s arm, drawing blood and causing him to drop his crowbar.

“T-Tim!” Y/N shouted, their voice cracking. But before they could move to help, they felt something heavy collide with their side. They hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of them. Through blurry vision, they saw Jeff standing over them, his knife raised high.

“Time to say goodnight, hero” Jeff sneered, his grin wicked.

Before the knife could come down, Brian was there, tackling Jeff to the ground. The two rolled through the dirt, Brian’s knife slashing at Jeff wildly. Tim, clutching his bleeding arm, scrambled to his feet and retrieved his crowbar, ready to assist. But then something unexpected happened.
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A low, echoing glitches sound reverberated through the forest—a sound that made everyone freeze for a moment. A distant, distorted static. The fog seemed to thicken, the trees growing impossibly darker.

“No, no, no,” Tim muttered under his breath, his voice shaky. “We stayed too long.”

“It’s him,” Brian said, his tone grim. “He’s coming.”

“Fuck-!” Y/N cover his ear , is this sound again it been followed him

But there was no time for answers. The killers seemed momentarily distracted, their attention drawn to the oppressive presence now looming in the distance. Brian grabbed Tim by the arm and pulled him toward the tree line.

“We have to go!” Brian shouted. “Now!”

“What about—” Tim started, glancing toward Y/N.

Brian shook his head. “We can’t save them. If we stay, none of us are getting out of here alive.”

Y/N, still on the ground, met their panicked gazes. They could see the guilt in Tim’s eyes and the silent apology in Brian’s. But Y/N understood. They nodded weakly, forcing a small, pained smile.

“Go,” Y/N said, their voice raspy. “It’s for the best.”

“Go-!”

Tim hesitated for a moment longer before Brian yanked him away. Together, they disappeared into the fog, their footsteps fading quickly. Y/N watched them go, a strange sense of peace washing over them despite the chaos surrounding them.

The killers snapped out of their trance, their focus shifting back to Y/N. Jeff grinned wickedly, wiping blood from his face. “Looks like your little friends ditched you,” he said, his tone mocking. “Guess that means more fun for us.”

But Y/N didn’t feel fear anymore. The static in the air grew louder, the oppressive presence pressing down on them. They knew what was coming. They’d seen it in their nightmares. And now, it was here.

As Jeff, Toby, and Jack closed in, Y/N slowly stood, their chest heaving with effort. They glanced toward the distant tree line one last time, hoping Brian and Tim had gotten far enough.

Then something slimy grab him.

Chapter Text

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Y/N’s consciousness drifted in and out, but their body remained limp, slung over Eyeless Jack’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Every jarring step Jack took rattled Y/N’s wounded chest still healing, causing a dull ache to radiate through their body. Thankfully—or perhaps unfortunately—they were far too out of it to protest. The muffled crunch of leaves beneath heavy boots was all Y/N could faintly perceive as the killers marched through the foggy forest.

“You know,” Ticci Toby said, his voice breaking the eerie silence, “that was hilarious.” He stifled a laugh, but his stuttering words gave him away. “I m-m-mean, Jeff—you gott-t absolutely c-cc clobbered by a freakin’ pan. A pan!” He wheezed, doubling over as he laughed uncontrollably.

Jeff, trailing a few steps behind, was seething. His face still bore a perfectly visible, swollen red mark where Y/N had hit him. He shot Toby a venomous glare, gripping his knife tightly in his hand. “You think it’s funny, Toby?” he snapped, his voice low and menacing. “Why don’t I smack you with a frying pan and see if you’re still laughing?”

Toby wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. “O-o Oh, come on, Jeff-f. Don’t be such a sore loser. You looked like a cartoon character when it happened. Wham! Right in the face.” He mimicked the sound of the pan hitting, clapping his hands together for added effect. “C-Classic.”

Jeff growled under his breath, his hand twitching as though he were debating whether to lunge at Toby right then and there. “You try fighting someone who throws a pan at your head,” Jeff snarled, his voice rising. “I’d love to see how you’d handle it.”

Toby shrugged, spinning his axe lazily in his hand. “Well,I-i I wouldn’t let myself g-get h-hit, for starters.”

“Shut up!” Jeff snapped, his voice cracking slightly, which only made Toby laugh harder. “Why don’t you focus on something useful, like scouting ahead? Or better yet, shut your damn mouth before I—”

“Enough,” Eyeless Jack’s voice cut through the bickering like a blade. His tone was calm and cold, yet it carried an undeniable weight that silenced the others instantly. “Save your squabbling for later. We have a job to do.”

Jeff muttered something under his breath but didn’t dare argue further. Toby, however, couldn’t resist one last jab. “He’s just mad because he got pan-fried,” he whispered, snickering to himself. Jeff shot him a glare but said nothing.

Jack adjusted Y/N’s unconscious form on his shoulder with little effort, his movements methodical and precise. Despite the apparent ease with which he carried them, there was an unsettling edge to his demeanor. Jack’s cold, expressionless mask betrayed no emotion, but his voice, when he finally spoke again, sent a chill through the air.

“Keep moving,” Jack said curtly. “The boss is expecting us. And I’m getting hungry.”

“Yeah, yeah, we know,” Jeff grumbled, still rubbing his face. “You’re always hungry.”

Jack didn’t respond. Instead, he tightened his grip on Y/N and resumed walking, his pace unchanging. Y/N’s head bobbed slightly with each step, their body completely at the mercy of their captors. They couldn’t hear the conversation clearly, but snippets of it seeped through their hazy mind. The names, the mocking laughter, the coldness in Jack’s voice—it all felt like a nightmare they couldn’t wake up from.

As they walked deeper into the forest, the atmosphere grew heavier. The towering trees seemed to close in around them, and the fog thickened until it felt like they were walking through a dream. The killers moved with ease, as though they’d traveled this path countless times before. Y/N, still unconscious, could do nothing but endure the journey.

After what felt like an eternity, the group finally reached their destination. An abandoned mansion loomed ahead, its silhouette barely visible through the dense fog. The structure was decrepit and unsettling, its once-grand facade now crumbling and overgrown with ivy. Broken windows stared out like empty eye sockets, and the air was thick with the stench of decay.

“Well, home sweet home,” Toby said cheerfully, kicking a rock toward the mansion’s entrance. “Nice to know this dump hasn’t fallen apart completely.”

“Not yet, anyway,” Jeff muttered, sheathing his knife. He glanced back at Y/N, still draped over Jack’s shoulder, and smirked. “Think the boss will be happy we brought them back with wound and bruises ? Or should we have finished the job quicker?”

Jack ignored the question, his focus solely on getting Y/N inside. “The boss doesn’t care about your opinion, Jeff. Just stay out of the way.”

Jeff rolled his eyes but didn’t argue further. Toby leaned casually against the doorway, still grinning as he watched Jack carry Y/N inside. “So, w-what do you think?” Toby said to Jeff, his voice low enough that Jack couldn’t hear. “Think t-t-they’ll last long, or will the boss get bored and… you k-know?” He made a slashing motion across his throat.

Jeff’s grin widened. “Does it matter? Either way, it’ll be fun to watch.”

As the mansion doors creaked shut behind them, Y/N’s unconscious mind stirred faintly. The warmth of the forest gave way to the cold, unwelcoming darkness of the mansion. Even in their dazed state, Y/N could sense the danger surrounding them.

And yet, they remained silent, unaware of what awaited them within those crumbling walls.

…..

The darkness was suffocating, cold and unyielding, as Y/N lay still, submerged in the void. The faint sensation of icy water surrounding them only deepened the sense of dread, and they couldn’t tell whether it was real or imagined. Their mind swirled with fragments of what had happened, pieces of a puzzle that refused to fit together. The pain, the chase, the desperate fight—it all felt distant now.

“Am I dead?” Y/N whispered into the void. Their voice barely made a sound, swallowed up by the deafening silence that pressed in from all sides. The thought lingered in their mind as they hugged their red jacket tightly, the only source of comfort in this empty space.

Memories of “Hoodie,” Brian Thomas, and “Masky,” Tim Wright, surfaced unbidden. Y/N wondered if they had managed to escape. Were they far away by now, safe and free? Or had something worse befallen them? Y/N shook their head, dispelling the thought. They didn’t blame them for leaving. If anything, they hoped they had gotten as far away from this nightmare as possible.

The silence stretched on endlessly, weighing heavy on Y/N’s chest. It felt as though time itself had stopped, leaving them alone with their thoughts. It was lonely, painfully so, but they used the quiet to reflect. What had led them here? Was there ever a chance of escaping? Or was it all doomed from the start?

Suddenly, a sharp, glitching static noise shattered the oppressive silence like glass. The sound was piercing, chaotic, and it tore through Y/N’s mind like a jagged blade. They gasped, their eyes flying open as a flood of cold reality washed over them.

Water. Ice-cold water dumped over their head and body, soaking them to the bone. Y/N shivered violently, struggling to breathe as the frigid sensation jolted them fully awake. Blinking rapidly, they took in their surroundings, the world around them a stark contrast to the void they had just been in.

The room was white, sterile yet disturbingly dark in atmosphere, illuminated by a single flickering bulb overhead. The light cast long, distorted shadows against the walls, adding to the unsettling vibe. Y/N’s arms and legs were tied tightly to a cold, metal chair, the ropes biting into their skin as they squirmed. They could feel the lingering dampness of the water that had just been dumped on them, pooling at their feet and making the already freezing air feel unbearable.

“Rise and shine, sunshine,” a familiar, mocking voice drawled. Y/N’s gaze snapped up to see Jeff the Killer standing directly in front of them, holding an empty bucket. His permanent grin was as twisted as ever, but his narrowed eyes burned with anger. The faint, pan-shaped mark on his cheek only added to his sour mood.

“Had a nice nap, huh?” Jeff sneered, tossing the bucket to the side carelessly. The loud clang echoed through the room, making Y/N flinch. “Thought I’d wake you up properly, since you were so eager to hit me with that frying pan.”

Behind Jeff, Ticci Toby leaned casually against the wall, his signature axe resting on his shoulder. His mismatched eyes were wide with amusement as he chuckled at Jeff’s obvious frustration. “You still-l m-mad about that, j-Jeff?” Toby teased, his words slightly stuttered but no less taunting. “It w-was just a p-p pan, man. Let it go-g go.”

Jeff whipped around to glare at Toby, his grin twisting into a scowl. “Oh, sure, because you’d totally be fine if someone smashed a pan into your face!” He pointed at his cheek, where the red mark was still faintly visible. “This? This is humiliating!”

Toby smirked, tilting his head. “Yeah-h, but it’s f-funny.”

“Shut up!” Jeff snapped, his voice cracking slightly.

“Jeff” Eyeless Jack interrupted, his calm, cold voice cutting through the argument. Unlike the others, he stood quietly in the corner, his dark presence almost blending into the shadows. His hollow, empty eyesockets seemed to pierce through Y/N, even as his tone remained eerily composed. “You’re wasting time.”

Jeff grumbled something under his breath but didn’t argue further, clearly not wanting to test Jack’s patience. Instead, he turned back to Y/N, his grin returning as he leaned in close. “Well, look who’s awake,” he cooed mockingly, his knife glinting as he twirled it lazily in his hand. “You’re lucky the boss wants you alive. Otherwise, I’d have gutted you the moment I caught up with you.”

Y/N shivered, their gaze darting between the three killers. The atmosphere was suffocating, the tension in the room thick enough to choke on. They tried to speak, but their throat felt dry and tight, and all that came out was a hoarse whisper.

“W-why…?” Y/N croaked, their voice barely audible, as they almost whisper slowly.

Jeff laughed, his grin widening. “Why? Oh, I’d love to explain to you with torture, but that’s not my job. Our boss will fill you in soon enough.”

Toby snickered, tapping his axe against his shoulder. “Yeah, you’ll be m-mmeeting him real soon. B-Better hope he’s in a good-d mood.”

Jack said nothing, his calm demeanor unchanging as he stepped forward and slung Y/N over his shoulder once again. “Let’s go,” he said simply, his voice devoid of emotion. “We’re done here.”

As they began walking out the only door, Y/N felt a wave of helplessness wash over them. Their body was too weak to fight, and the killers’ banter only made the situation feel more surreal. All Y/N could do was close their eyes and hope against hope that they’d find a way out of this nightmare.

Please be another nightmare..