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They leaned back in the chair, thumbing at their new phone. Each movement of their thumb almost immediately felt natural, and practiced, the icons flinging smoothly wherever they gestured. It felt good. This was a good purchase.
For multiple reasons.
It kept them entertained. Informed, as well. The voice could read the news that their thumbs guided them through, to get them a greater grounding on current events. Simultaneously, they could listen to the sweet sounds of whatever this song was through a quality pair of earphones.
Commissioning those had made them wince at first, but an abundance of cash had a way of soothing that sort of emotion.
Footsteps. Someone is coming.
The doctor? It was a little early, they thought…
He would be coming from the other entrance. Likely just another patient.
The steps stopped, but the door didn’t immediately open.
Hesitance. Reluctance, maybe.
They probably didn’t need this monster’s life story.
There is no harm in having more information.
They internally rolled their eyes, as the door creaked open.
Make a good impression.
It was only polite. They leaned around, as if having just noticed the newcomer, and-
Be natural.
“Afternoon.” They smiled automatically, before turning their head back to the phone.
Strange.
Was that a carbon fucking clone of them? From a few months back, sure, scruffier hair and older clothes, yeah, but it was still uncanny as hell. They knew for a fact that humans weren’t as identical as some people liked to pretend they were, but the sight in front of them was enough to shake their certainty.
They are more concerned.
In the corner of their eye, they made out the newcomer keeping one eye on them, slowly backing away to a chair on the far end of the room. Not quite sitting down.
There are a number of explanations for this, and some are not ideal.
Identity theft. Some sort of… other them. A long lost sibling?
The most likely reason is coincidence, but there is no harm in confirming this.
“Y-” The other them stumbled. “You.”
No sudden movements. Signal conversation, and let them speak their mind.
They looked up, slowly, and put their phone away. “Did you..?”
“Why do you look like me?” It was a blunt question, which was, at least, a probable indicator that they didn’t have a voice.
Consider your aims.
Get the person’s identity, and try and be friendly.
Then be accommodating. Answer the question.
“I’m… not so sure?” They smiled, injecting a little bashfulness. “I was wondering the same thing, if I’m being honest. I haven’t seen many other humans, so, ah…”
The person didn’t seem much more relaxed, but there was a familiar biting dryness to their next words. “I’m here for therapy, not for some- some fucked up science.”
Try and break the tension.
“I mean, if this is an experiment, I am also not aware of it.” They shrugged. “Which I guess makes us double-blind.”
There was a moment of silence.
“That was a pun.” The reply came.
“Yup.” They nodded, like it was all good. “But moving on: the funny thing is that I’m also here for therapy. So, joking aside…”
A stare responded, shifting back and forth. “You don’t look like you need it.”
Extremely paranoid. Perhaps their reason for coming here.
How to play this, then?
Be open. Treat their concerns without dismissing them, and focus on what they feel.
They could do that. To start, they spread themself out a little, to be physically opened up, and let out a quiet laugh. “Must mean things are going well, then. I’m Kris, by the way. Here for good old depression and post-traumatic stress, and also because I read something saying that it’s good to have therapy even when you’re feeling healthy.”
That only seemed to make their clone more concerned. “Kris?”
They didn’t know you. But the name is familiar to them – perhaps theirs. Don’t force any information out – you can use silence to make them fill in the blanks, when they are comfortable.
They nodded, keeping a slight smile on their face. Not enough to look forced, but instead offering the idea that it was their resting face. At this point, it might as well be. “Yup. Came in a little early for my appointment.”
The other guy settled into a blank face.
Their expression of consideration.
They kept that in their working memory.
“Uh…” A success, in that they’d provoked speech that wasn’t innately filled with hostility. “So… so where do you live?”
Not trying to be invasive, but is trying to confirm information, rather than just be friendly. They mean where you’re from.
And if that question was important for them, it likely meant that there was a similar suspicion on both ends of the discussion: same name, same home, and potentially…
The general area from which you came will be very public, eventually.
“Hometown.” They smiled. “Interning over the holidays there with the mayor until university rolls around. Bit of a hike to the clinic, here, but…” They shrugged. “What can you do?”
The other Kris – they mentally labelled them as Kris 2, at this point – still wasn’t sat down. “I think I’d know about that.”
Interesting. Call them out for their opacity.
They scratched at their cheek. “Well, it is the truth. Not an especially hidden one, either, which suggests that you’re being kind of presumptuous for someone who’s never even lived there.”
There was a flinch. But it was the wrong kind of flinch – the sort of flinch that suggested a threat, rather than someone called out on a lie, or a lack of information.
Hmm.
“I have.” Kris 2 stated, forcefully. “I’ve lived there my whole life. Which means- you’re gaslighting me. Or lying, or-”
They are either delusional, or something is very wrong.
The voice had already shaken up their worldview of what was possible, but the suggestion that there was something else had them on edge. They didn’t show it, though, instead falling back on soft command. “Can we think about what you’re really saying, for a moment?”
“I’m saying that you need to get the hell away from me.” Heavy breathing.
“Look.” They rose their hands, rapidly trying to figure out how to cool this down. “What’s your actual concern? How can we prove that it might be right or wrong?”
“You can turn back into whatever fucked up-”
Angel’s tits, this guy was clearly delusional. “Alright. You think that I’m… imitating you.”
Kris 2 was looking around desperately.
For a weapon, or escape.
They’d have to be quick. They got out their phone, swiping through contacts without really looking down. “Look, there’s one more point of confirmation we can make. Prove this is or isn’t a coincidence.” For their sake, at least. “My best friend, from when I was a kid, is a contact in my phone. I’ve got them opened up right now.”
Kris 2 was listening, at least.
Rational, even if they were paranoid.
Right. “So you can say the name of your childhood best friend, if you have one, and I can show you this contact right after. If they don’t match, then everything else is just a coincidence. And if they do match, then I can give my-”
Keep the gender obscured.
“-Partner a call.” They continued. “And they can straighten things out. That sound good?”
Kris 2 still didn’t seem satisfied, rankling under the suggestion.
They don’t like that it’s your plan.
Of course. “Worst case, there’s probably something else you could suggest.”
That seemed to tip things over, at least. “Sure. Alright, whatever.” The other them shuddered a little. “Noelle. Reindeer monster.”
… That. That was very personal. This person might have been a stalker, then.
Still, go ahead with the plan.
They didn’t show any apprehension, as they showed off Noelle’s contact. “Alright, so we’ve gotten this far. I’m gonna call her, say something normal…”
They waited to get a nod of confirmation.
“Alright.” They pressed the call button, put the phone on speaker, and waited patiently.
A few agonising beeps later, Noelle picked up. “Hiya Kris! Whaddya need?”
“Hey there, Noelle.” The smile on their face didn’t need maintenance, anymore. “Just calling to make sure I haven’t got this jumbled up – we said we’d go out the day after tomorrow because of my internship, right? I remembered to say?”
“Kris, you’ve got a better memory than me, and I know the first thing you installed in your phone was a calendar. But if you’re reeeeeeally not sure…”
“It was the news, actually.” They grumbled playfully. “Because I’m a serious person with serious interests.”
“Who ‘seriously’ didn’t mean to get tickets to a kid’s movie, and ‘seriously’ thought it was Broken Wills 3 like we agreed to watch.”
“That-” They pursed their lips, for Kris 2’s benefit. “Was very funny, before you noticed.”
“Faha. Sure, Kris. But, umm, yeah! Day after tomorrow, like you said.”
“Thanks, Noelle.” They smiled. “See you then?”
“See you later today, Krismas.”
“Oho, if you insist~” The little something-something they put at the end of their voice seemed to make Kris 2 recoil, but that was honestly a good sign if it meant instilling a degree of separation in the guy’s mind. “Love you!”
“Love you!”
Click.
They seem yet more disturbed, but less aggressive than before.
That, at least was something they could work with.
---
Kris didn’t know what to think anymore.
They stood, surrounded by the chintzy, wallpaper seats of an ordinary, mundane, run-of-the-mill waiting room for some therapy. Not that they really wanted to be here in any shape or form befitting the casual atmosphere – in-fact, the normalcy made them feel sicker than if something was wrong.
Of course, the greater will of the universe gave them something terribly wrong, and it had their face.
The unwieldy silence made their skin crawl. Too clustered, too cloyingly sweet. Just cool air blowing on their hot, sweat-dappled skin.
Kris stared down their imposter, mouth slightly agape. “That was Noelle’s voice.” The obvious was quite the thing to utter in the midst of their swimming mind. No one to confirm, or instruct, and it clung to the particles of dust flitting through the air like glue in hair.
The other them was older. Not sure about taller but clearly more mature, hair pulled back and styled carefully. The imposter’s smile was warm, inviting, almost speaking itself to the original Kris- this Kris- that it was safe, but the eyes. The other Kris’s eyes lacked what a person would expect. Outward suspicion.
And they let the words hang just enough that Kris – this Kris – felt curiosity begin to fill the gap. “You’re me.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes, I think so.” That Kris stayed so oddly... regular, that this Kris couldn’t tell anything. “Is there anyway else to convince you?” That Kris folded their hands and made their best impression of a paper plate with a smile of glitter.
“I don’t believe this.” This Kris knew better. This Kris had seen mimicry, had seen memories change like flickering fire, and no way they were going to allow this to get past them without scrutiny.
“No?” That Kris tilted their head and frowned slightly.
“...we both know the cliché wouldn’t work here. If Noelle’s backing you then either something major is wrong or you’re screwing with me using magic bullshit, or both, I don’t know.” Vocal cords tore and trembled as this Kris tried to steady their breathing. “Humor me. What exactly are you here for?”
That Kris’s expression soured some, but it was restrained. “Like I said. Depression and post-traumatic stress disorder. It’s been rough for me. You look like you’ve seen some bad things, too.”
This Kris’s nostrils flared with growing urgency. Their breathing was uneven. They couldn’t medicate.
“How... many times have you been to this doctor?” This Kris asked this with muscles tensing, hand choking the armrest of the poor chair.
“This is my routine appointment. Been coming here for some time. What about you? Have you... been around here, and we’ve just never met?”
This Kris shook their head. “Forced to come here. I mean... nevermind,” their legs were shaking, quavering, “just... no.” They pretended like they meant to sit down, wrenching themself open like a valve to stay in some sort of postural order.
“So, we’re both Kris.” That Kris commented. This Kris glared at them from under their hair, making that Kris’s smile puff oddly for a moment. “Is that something we can agree on?”
This Kris decided it was easier. “Let’s say yes. We’re Kris. Krises.”
That Kris looked relieved for only a moment. The emptiness of the waiting room began to weigh on their shoulders, squashing them down until their torso laid heavy on their elbows. Then, only another period of awkward staring, interrupted only by that Kris glancing at their phone. The snappy motion elicited a minute jerk from this Kris.
“So... we should figure out what this is. If we’re both ourselves then we should be similar somehow.” It made sense. In a way. A roundabout way that was quite coldly delivered into this Kris’s ears.
“Toriel and Asgore.” This Kris went for the understandably obvious one, at least, in their eyes. A wince from themself. That Kris contemplated for a second longer than this Kris expected.
“They were divorced. Dad lost his job. That was around where my depression started.”
This Kris gulped at the honesty.
“Before that, actually.” That Kris corrected themself, much to this Kris’s growing dread.
For this Kris, it was before that. A time spent among humans then to monsters when they were young, and from there, it was a certain thing inside that meshed horribly with them. Finicky, to say the least.
They were the ‘other’ as much as the other was an alien, and the transition from a waggish person to a serious one, and they had... problems, since then. Which led to another idea. If they were both Kris... then, was it untoward to think there would be two hoary colors of red? Twice the ephemeral guides?
“Why are you here?” That Kris gently intoned something agnate to compassion inside their dull voice. This Kris couldn’t control their tapping fingers. “If that’s okay to ask?”
This Kris felt their lungs squeeze like a balloon, emitting, likewise, the sound of a stuffed mist expulsing from a cramped ribcage. Made them slouch, too. They saw a method to this questioning: Make them admit their paranoia, insert it as a contrivance to their own scheme of making this Kris let their guard down, extrapolate nefarious purpose from there.
They choked around the interwoven cables; “Humans,” they lied easily, “before I was adopted.”
The other Kris stared at them with an abstruse absurdity.
Maybe that was a good lie, then. That Kris was a human, this Kris was a human, so a bit of paranoia for humans meeting humans could function as the indicator of something traumatic, or something. A misstatement, a prevaricated scenario.
“You?” This Kris spoke, brittle and croaky. “Any... humans in your life?”
“Not like you, I think.”
“Then... what’s... the supply closet, in the school.” This Kris squinted at the other Kris. The other Kris inhaled stiffly.
“What do you mean?” That Kris looked bemused, somehow.
This Kris shook their head, breathing coldly. “You would know. But you don’t. That’s a veritable difference between us.”
That Kris cocked their head and bit their cheek. An obvious invitation to continue.
They leaned forward.
This Kris opened their mouth, then snapped it shut. Tuh-tuh-tuh. Fingers against wood, a deep, staccato noise, betraying their inner conflict.
Waiting, allowing the other Kris to choose for them, came naturally, because this Kris didn’t know where to go with this anymore.
A tense wave prickled over their exposed skin and pressed against their sweater, clumping painfully with a pinch of their hair, long unwashed, but then their picking at their collar would seem nervous – which they were, but still, confidence in the face of adversity.
“We should recount our steps. Since we are... both Kris, something weird must have happened.” That other Kris was smarter than they were. “Can you call your friends? Unless they answer-”
“I don’t...” This Kris paused, face stretching in many wrong ways. “No phone. Can’t have them.”
The other Kris blinked.
“Do you remember a number?” They raised their phone.
“N-No, I... numbers just... I can’t remember them well. I remember some of the home phone number but Toriel’s not home right now, and I don’t... no friends.”
The other Kris pitied them, or at least a faint sense of it showed on their face.
“I used to be the same.” The other Kris mentioned with an ambrosial scent of concern and whimsical folly about them. That Kris’s corner of their lip bounced. “But one day, I felt... drive.”
This Kris felt strangled, atrophied muscles spasming in their chair as they spun their head like a loose swivel to anywhere but the other Kris, ignoring the inching slide of moist dread across their abdomen.
The other Kris didn’t continue.
Might not have even wanted to continue.
There was pounding inside their skull, visions of crimson flower petals, scattered in the winding hem of red thread. Surely, they were paling, rocking in their seat, huddling to themself. Trying to escape from themself.
“Like...” they asked, weak, “like you found... purpose?”
The other Kris deliberated for a moment, smiling softly. That Kris’s eyes wandered for a moment. “I guess you could say that.”
No. No, not again. Victory was theirs. Escape had happened – they had a glassy, painted eye to prove it, and there was no memory of anything. No closet with a Fountain, no pointy star.
It started like that. Easy. It made them think they were equal. That they had meaning, even past it inserting itself. But as soon as the game started-
But this Kris wasn’t in the game yet. Or wouldn’t be. They were older but the supply closet meant zilch. University meant leaving Hometown, no Hometown meant no Dark World.
Gooseflesh slicked them with sweat and a cold flash, apposite with a chilly, bubbling slime lapping at their insides.
Red. Red. Red. Too much red, too much for them, they squeezed their eyes shut, fluttered the lids, held their aching head and drew in their legs. Kris withered beneath the very thought of it.
They tasted strawberries- they felt their stomach sink.
“Helped me realize I wanted my life together.” The other Kris was surely confused, almost as much as this Kris was distraught. This Kris knew there were others. The... thing inside confirmed it, before, as a threat. It shouldn’t have hurt to learn it was a serious threat.
Their cheeks sunk inward as their brow shook mightily, covered by their hair as they laid in their own filth, cherishing the feelings, holding their breath from wheezing out in hiccups.
They wanted to pretend. They were good at it. However, moisture gathered at their nose and tickled along down to their neck.
It seems they were given distance as they curled into a ball and held themself upright as best as they could.
It, like everything in life, would pass after some time.
Until they started rapping their palms against their skull far too forcefully for their headache to pass.
“Why are you happy?” This Kris wasn’t playing any games, not anymore.
The other Kris raised an eyebrow, smile faltering like a lie challenged. “What do you mean, why am I happy?”
“You’re me,” this Kris spat. “It’s not your friend.”
The other Kris paused. “What isn’t my friend?”
“The voice inside your head. It’s lying. It was mine, once, a-and it wasn’t, it was,” they growled, “a liar. Said good things, helped with school, made me go outside. I was happy with it.” There was utter revulsion on their tongue, much like the crunchy taste of worm-chipped mulch.
This Kris had to warn them
“I know what it is. I-I've seen it, felt it.”
That other Kris sat straighter, smile deafeningly rent from their face. Cold, hard eyes pinned this Kris to their seat.
“What do you mean by that?” That Kris demanded, calmly enough that this Kris fashioned themself into a limp noodle, fishing for some moniker to use for this vileness.
“It’s a demon,” they chose. “The other – it’s not to be trusted, or allowed, or befriended, because it doesn’t want that. You’re a puppet to it. You’re me – you're just a foolish puppet to it.”
The other Kris tensed, an action that reminded this Kris that there was nothing, nothing, they could do to defend themself.
“It’s a demon,” they repeated with gravity, “and the Angel chose you as it’s sacrifice.”
---
This is unexpected. All signs should suggest that no replica of me exists.
They could say the same thing. But Kris 2 seemed to be quite different from them – clearly younger, and yet also claimed something voice-like had already appeared.
And disappeared.
From the context, right. Too young to have received a voice, and definitely too young to have had it go away.
Establishing a time-frame for the period before their ‘other’ turned against them would be further evidence to suggest different circumstances.
And to clear the voice’s name. Just in case.
A sensible precaution. Even though I am aligned with you, the possibility of an outside force that could shift that alignment must be defended against.
The one thing that confused them was the religious overtones that Kris 2 had used – they were pretty certain they were already not quite that devoted, when they were that age. And that the Angel was… not actively involved in the world.
A point of divergence, perhaps.
At the very least, the second Kris was clearly disturbed, and therapy wasn’t going to begin for a while. Maybe they could help. Drag something approaching sense out of them.
You need more information.
They decided not to mention how different the classical idea of a dust demon was from Kris 2’s description, and let their muscles relax. They scratched their cheek, making sure to look like they were seriously considering the second Kris’ idea. “The ‘other’.”
They paused. Kris 2 was sweating up a storm.
Work through your thoughts.
“I… can’t say that my own circumstances line up perfectly with what you’re describing.” They shifted in their seat. “Would you be willing to tell me more about it?”
Play to their spite. They seem to hate it, and likely possess some of your older flaws.
It hurt a little to admit, but it was sensible. “Because whatever it is, it seems to be a right bastard. And from how you talk about it, it seems to be gone.” They leaned over, inviting conspiracy. “If I were to come across something like it, a pro-tip from an expert wouldn’t be amiss. To screw it over, even if we ignore the pragmatic reasons.”
The voice pulled their face slightly into a grin. It was tricky to get the balance right – making it seem like something meant for the second Kris to join in with, rather than something aimed against them.
A good act. Formality seems to put them on edge, somewhat.
They rested their head on their fist, in defiance of good posture.
The other Kris seemed thrown-off, at first, by the change in expression. But they were hoping that by pulling from a younger, less cautious version of them – a version of them that had thought it was a good idea to pull pranks where there was a chance of being caught – that it would show that there was something left from before the voice’s influence. Something that would resonate, and show the other Kris that this was a natural growth, rather than a forced imposition of personality.
It didn’t work all at once, of course. But diplomacy always started as a matter of chipping away at surface-level resistance, and they could see the first cracks forming in the shell. “You said you had it.”
“Nah.” They smiled. “I said I had drive. Big fucking wake-up call, yeah, but no others showing up and trying to make my life a misery. But given the circumstances, it’d be pretty bad of me to ignore what you just brought up. I want to be prepared if that happens – have a contingency in place.”
Anecdote.
“Like, ah…” They pulled back, snapping their fingers a few times like they were trying to recall something. “Like there was this one time, a few years back, when I was at this school winter fundraiser.”
The other Kris still had that air of caution, but they wanted to get this information. And stories were a great way to show someone perspective.
Flatter throughout. Assume they have knowledge throughout. The more they talk to correct, the more you know, and the closer you become when you thank them.
“I’m sure you can predict what it was like.” They started, baring some teeth in their grin. “Boring, something to raise money for a new building. Some out-of-town people there because it was coming up to the holidays. Classic Mom shtick.”
“Mom doesn’t…” Kris 2 looked about to fall into a ramble, but caught themself.
Encourage them to speak up. Make their reactions acceptable, but solidify them as reactions – the conversation is yours. Move it into something approaching cooperative, and friendly.
“Nah, it’s fine. If you’ve got something on your mind, feel free to say it.” They chuckled a bit, deliberately casting aside the idea that what was said was an interruption.
Kris 2 shook their head. “No, it- it wasn’t important.”
But the freedom to speak in future meant something.
Good to know. “Alright. So I was bored out of my mind, as described. But then, I had the most wonderful idea – you know what isn’t boring? Ice skating.”
Confusion. Distraction, more importantly. “That’s still boring.”
“Ah, my friend, you misunderstand!” They rubbed their hands together like an evil mastermind. “Voluntary ice skating is boring. Involuntary ice skating, on the other hand…”
Kris 2’s mind filled in the gaps. “Water. In the hallways.”
They let loose a cackle, just for a little extra fun. “Great minds think alike! Sneak out, open the windows, and the school never kept the heating on overnight-”
“Stop.” Kris 2 seemed to shift back into something defensive. “You’re- you’re trying to change the subject. Make me stop thinking about how you’ve got the other. You’re lying, or something else-” They fumbled their next few words, but retried and succeeded unthinkingly. “What if you have the other right now? What if it’s trying to get me to tell you how I got rid of it so that- so that it can stop you ever doing it. So that it can keep you manipulating people into doing what it wants, so that-”
Kris 2 seemed to catch themself, and scrambled back into their chair, breathing heavily.
So they can be made to speak for longer.
Manipulate into doing what it wants?
It makes sense. Aligning other with one’s interests is an effective means to power, and a hypothetical other would be forced to use it, if confined to this human’s body.
It sounded voice-like.
A version of me that was not aligned perfectly with your own goals would be extremely destructive.
That was an interesting hypothesis to pursue. That this Kris had been settled with a version of the voice that simply… wanted something else. But this Kris seemed to hate their voice – that seemed counterproductive.
In either case, your counterpart is distressed.
They should help with that. Back to their point.
With some softness.
They made their tone gentler. “Sorry. I got a little distracted myself, I think. What I was- what I was trying and failing to say…”
The stutter made the other Kris blink.
“… That whole prank ended off with me being chased away. But what I’d brought… it was meant to be kind of funny, when I was telling the story-” They made themselves look bashful. “Homemade ice skates. But I only used them when I was being chased, because voluntary ice skating is kinda boring. Like you said.”
The other Kris was still staring. But more importantly, they were listening.
“Mom saw me bring those ice skates. And she was suspicious.” They noted, finally dragging the whole thing together. “But that preparation still helped me get away. The combination of the knowledge, of what was coming, and the tools to help me get out of it unscathed… That was what let me both witness the most entertaining ice skating that I think has ever existed, and almost get away with the whole thing.”
“Almost?”
Trap: sprung. “Turns out I don’t know how to ice skate.”
There was a pause. And then, thankfully, an involuntary snort from their younger self. It was quickly covered up by a cough, but that let them-
Tie everything together.
“You’ve told me about this other – and even if you don’t believe me when I say that I haven’t met it, it would still be a good idea to try and share the tools I could use to beat it. Whether it’s shown up already, will show up in future, or lingers as a possibility that never arrives.”
They gestured with an open arms, palm up and level with their waist.
“Would it be alright if you explained it to me?”
---
They paused to think.
“Explain... to you,” Kris exhaled metal. “...You’re right. Even if you’re lying to me, I can’t just... let you, let me, let- let us be the butt of the cosmic joke, not again, not when... okay. It’s over.” This Kris billowed out with an ineffably stagnant wisp of breath, steadying themself.
Their heart beat soundly. They recalled a moment of temporary respite beneath a sunken, forlorn state of things. A voice, since gone, singing, and a sparkle of yellow, just beyond reach. Idling, they gathered their resolve and reached out-
Determination to help that other Kris overtook any qualms about it. Kris was human; nothing remained but that ideal state, of glittering, fluttering wings. Even beneath the claws, they saw it, the light only they could see. Their true goals, apart from a puppeteer.
This Kris really just wanted to fix everything.
That Kris nodded them along.
“You can’t replicate how to remove it,” this Kris regretfully started. The other Kris looked curious. This Kris wasn’t anything but curt and serious. “At least, not in any way that won’t inevitably present itself, as the solution is inseverable from the problem, and the circumstance is... connate with the natural order.”
The other Kris blinked. Perhaps, at their cryptic phrasing. “So, you’re saying there’s nothing to be done?”
“No, not quite.” They thumbed their bandages. Slowly but surely, they held themself higher. Had to, they couldn’t be afraid, not now. “For me, the start was the first sign that I should have done something.”
It was quite clear how they should have acted towards it at first.
“What should I watch out for?” The other Kris questioned them as they readjusted themself. While deadpan, their expression was less impassive and more bordering on tense and expectant. It was the subtlety in the cheeks.
“...It attacked me.” This Kris expected a little more than the instant inhale of the other Kris, but their eyes widened. “While I was sleeping, it... pulled me into a web, of sorts, and- well, it just... gave me a choice to either join it or, well, it wasn’t,” their fingers tensed, “err, I reckon not so much a choice as an inevitability.” Kris closed their one good eye. Nodding, a second later. “It... has ways of making you agree. And if you can’t guess by my tone...” They chuckled painfully, the feeling expanding in their chest as they trailed off.
Their slightly untethered smile faded as their upper lip weakened.
The other Kris pieced it together. This Kris couldn’t meet their eyes.
“...you’re happy. I don’t...” This Kris felt like an ant watched under a microscope. “...I don’t want you to get hurt.”
The other Kris steepled their hands, then clasped them in their lap, thinking for a moment. “Thank you,” they finally settled, greeting this Kris with a woefully sincere glance of empathy, “that’s very kind of you to want.”
This Kris felt clemency rise like a clamoring bug crawling along their vertebrae.
Praise. They supposed it was praise, in a way. A condolence and gratitude, siphoned, mixed, filled with cream. After long, long years of never hearing something like that from any person, it did ring strangely to this Kris.
“I’ve watched it too much,” this Kris admitted.
“I’m very sorry to hear that.” That Kris’s inflection almost struck a chord in this Kris. So many times, they had heard that, and so many times the person saying it was lying.
Kris knew they were the same, though, and they had long hated their life’s course, so why wouldn’t that Kris?
“Didn’t you say it presents itself as your friend, at first? Is there anything I should watch out for,” that Kris turned to face them more, torso relaxed and legs folded, “or some way to tell it would try to do what it did with you?”
This Kris gulped back some stuck mucus. “Damn thing has a fucking thesaurus, that’s for sure. Reads people and speaks like it randomly selects the most ambiguous word.”
“A bit more of a literature geek, is it?” This Kris laughed softly.
“It likes its science, too. Its numbers. History.” Kris wiped at their hair, slouching tiredly. “It... it, uh, liked looking at books, reading stuff at the library, searching things online. Likes counting things and solving problems all cold and logically. Just, a computer.”
“Did this... other ever help you with your homework?” Clearly a joke.
“Yes.” This Kris confessed that with a sheepish pawing at the nape of their neck. “I don’t... is that... bad?”
The other Kris blanked at their question. This Kris shook their head and gestured dismissively. Stupid question, never should have asked it.
“Nevermind-”
“Maybe this thing was trying to make it up to you, somehow?”
Kris pinched their nose.
Okay, fair enough, the other Kris didn’t know the half of it, but how would this Kris explain?
Perhaps – a thought struck them – they could appeal to this other Kris in a way they would understand. They thought back to their journey: There was always something, hanging above them in their darkest hour, that gave them patience for the pain. Even when they were a puppet, watching themself dangle, there existed a chance. A prayer for them. Though, they never achieved their own penance, it persisted, because it every step brought them onto a threshold closer and yet brutally further from their friends.
“It wasn’t... I’m not saying it wasn’t helpful, because that would just be wrong, because it knew things and it had just... properties that I ran with it, and there was a silver lining.” Kris hissed as they recalled. “But it switched. Brought down the hammer and reminded me of what it was doing. The damn thing had a purpose that it found again when everything was going well.”
That Kris spoke. “So, it attacked you, then-”
Kris deflated, a stew of shame inside. “-helped me get through some things, keep myself going, and then just, poof, I don’t know, it code-switched on me and suddenly it was fucking rampant murder time. Wanted to know everything about everything, and that meant starting to break things after all the good stuff.”
“Wait,” the other Kris cranked their neck, “it tried to make you murder?” Their calm composure broke some as a harrowed look of shock blasted their brow wide upward.
Their face softened. “...a little more than that.” A trembling breath. Kris languidly raised their hand to kneed at their eyes and cheeks.
“...who did it make you...?”
“Can I just... can we just not talk about that right now?” This Kris tussled with their knotted hair. “I just, I just don’t like thinking about it anymore. It was hard enough to start being around people again, but just, just, it’s too much.”
“Okay. Let’s take this slow.” That Kris gestured to them, palms out, before glancing around. Thankfully, it was still an empty room.
Every breath was beginning to resemble weighted exercise.
“Does anyone else know about this?”
Kris recognized the onset heart palpitations. Beat, beat... b-beat.
When did they ever stop remembering what had happened? The edge of the fucking world, the dark below them. Kris stifled their tremble. Could still pull themself back. But another step, their scalp itching and untouched.
They flapped their mouth, the dryness sticky.
“Kris?” The voice. Their own voice. Older. This Kris jammed themself further into the chair, then fidgeted, because there was heat and sweat already, and it just made it worse. Crammed down into a furled ball. “Do you need a minute?”
Over and over again. Faces, faces, faces. The masses bleeped and blared like train station signs.
“Kris?”
Kris didn’t deserve any of this. They did what they had to do, but they didn’t fight to stop it at all, not when it mattered, not when there was little less than everything on the line, and the smoothing feeling of every centimetre of their being boiled. Angel, why did she have to be the one above? The palms, the headache. They beat against their temples.
“Hey-!” The other Kris had stood.
This Kris really shouldn’t have been here. Not now. Fixing them was out of the question, merely a wanton waste congealing every second to grab more and more of every sunny and shiny, because Kris was still a fucking leech. Blood-letting all the niceness in the world away. Noelle didn’t remember, Susie didn’t remember, Ralsei didn’t even exist anymore. What would therapy do when what haunted them had evaporated like a hazed nightmare?
It was all in their head, all in their head, all in their head. They swore and stared through their broken eye.
They jerked away from a touch along their hand. The other Kris, staring with large, uneaten eyes. A better them.
Kris sputtered and lashed out. “Get the fuck-”
They halted and seethed, glaring at the other Kris.
This was one of the reasons they were here; Kris hadn’t been okay since. Therapy was something they needed desperately, yet there was only so much that could be done so quickly.
Their hand floated, bobbing as they fought against themself. The other Kris held a pained curve to their lip. This Kris splayed their fingers out.
...they didn’t know what to do anymore.
Like a spring flower into autumn, that thought wilted them to cinders. The panic, the horror, the pain – a life once believed as their past. Kris didn’t know what to think anymore, and it hurt talking, but if they could just... relax.
“I, I- no. I’m sorry,” they apologized, strangled, beholden behind aggrieved weakness. “I can’t do this today.”
The other Kris agonized over reaching out, slowly, proffering their own hand. Kris glanced away but didn’t shy from the other them, hesitant but accepting as another hand embraced their wrist.
“Don’t worry,” that Kris calmed, gentle, “that’s fine. It is a big deal, right, and I know this thing is still hurting you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s okay. Everything’s gonna be okay, right?”
Kris finally pulled themself to look at the other Kris.
The confidence inside of the other Kris’s voice, their posture, even the way they moved to reposition themself closer to this Kris – it was born of something ignorant. Unknowing, even. Kris had killed before. Enjoyed some of it, even. The feeling of fear and a bitter battle. That was what they found in place of their humanity, that was what led them to righteous punishment.
But this Kris was hope. An idea that they could one day be as caring to something that should, by all means, be a horrifying reflection on the chaotic nature of the gods’ world as that Kris was to them.
“There’s something wrong here, anyway, isn’t there? If we’re both Kris, then we should stick together until we figure this out.” That made sense. The other Kris was making a lot of sense. Had their shit together.
This Kris wasn’t chilling out anytime soon.
“So, we could just... skip this appointment and talk, if you want.”
“...” Kris gaped. They hadn’t rebelled in such a way for some time.
“So? How about it? We can even go get something to eat when you calm down.”
The offer was... enticing, even though they felt drained at the thought of moving much. Confectionaries always helped after an episode and they hadn’t brought themself to eat a meal in a few days.
“...okay.”
Other Kris smiled. “Okay.” They could hear the smile in their voice. “Let’s get out of here, then.”
It was a kindness they hadn’t felt forever. They wondered how much they could get of this. A person they had no choice... no, someone they wanted to talk to. Kris decided to give it all to the wind. As the other Kris stood, they leaped to follow, holding the other Kris around their mid-section loosely.
The other Kris squirmed for a second before swimming out a hand, and though this Kris had their face turned against the other Kris’s shoulder, they could visualize a smile.
“Are you okay, Kris?” The same words.
“...I’ll be fine,” they answered after a moment, “thank you.”
They separated and pretended like it wasn’t weird of them to want more.
“I’ll pay.” Other Kris left nothing but a promise.
This Kris thought hard for a moment. “Let’s hope we fix this before I have to pay, too.”
A snort. Kris didn’t really know if there was anything to fixing this. It was their world, no matter the odds.
And maybe, that held a banquet of avenues for Kris to rejoice. No puppeteer, no flaming angels, no death.
Peace.
Kris wondered if they could love themself at all.