"I'm s-s-s-scared…", Plural stuttered as she held onto Tatters' arm tightly. "Need… familiar…"
The two walked through the dark halls of the haunted house.
"Then why'd you wanna go?" Tatters asked.
"'Cause…" Plural mumbled, leaving the question unanswered.
The haunted house consisted of a single dark corridor with a bunch of ninety-degree turns every now and then.
When they turned the next corner, a large, fake spider popped out from the wall, scaring Plural more than Tatters had ever seen before.
Nothing in the haunted house had thus far managed to properly scare Tatters, only making her jump out of reflex at best. The spider replica reminded her of the giant spiders that the witch had created at the abandoned skate park. Tatters recalled the look on Plural's face in that awful photo she received in the kitchen, where she was tied to the chair with the spider on her arm.
"Are you scared of spiders?" Tatters asked.
Plural nodded with a horrified look on her face.
Tatters, angry and sickened at the recollection of that event, kicked the fake spider off its hinge and broke the contraption. After regaining her composure, she looked back at Plural, expecting her to be upset about vandalism and getting in trouble. Instead, Plural smiled and hugged her arm tighter.
"Good familiar."
Tatters swallowed and felt a warm jolt running across her chest, completely forgetting about those negative feelings from a second ago. Having regained her cool once more, she gave Plural a confident smile and continued guiding her down the dark corridor.
Before long, Tatters stopped and looked up at something on the wall that caught her attention, making Plural stumble and turn to look.
"What is it?" Plural asked. "The painting?"
An otherwise inconspicuous painting on the wall that served no greater purpose than arbitrary decoration. The kind you'd see in a mansion, depicting the rich owner sitting on a fancy chair. Except this time, Tatters knew she wasn't seeing the same thing as Plural. It was the pale thing who sat in the chair, staring right back at her with eyes that seemed to move with her.
In addition to its last mutation, where its neck had sunk into its shoulders, the thing had also grown two rows of teeth that went vertically from its face down to its stomach. Was it an artistic rendition? Or was the creature really evolving from her despair?
"Hey," Plural whispered, tugging on Tatters' arm. "What are you thinking?"
Tatters looked at Plural as she came back to reality, then looked back at the painting.
"What do you see?" she asked Plural.
Plural looked at the painting and did not need long to answer.
"Some creepy-looking clown in a chair," Plural replied, then gave Tatters an inquisitive look.
Tatters studied the depiction of the pale thing and started describing it.
"For me it's the—"
"Whah!"
From up ahead, an actor dressed as a zombie jumped out to scare them. Tatters simply raised an eyebrow and Plural only let out a gasp at best. The actor stood three meters away and had likely grown impatient with the two lingering at the painting, resulting in a poor scare.
"I really should've gone for the clown suit, huh?" the actor spoke while looking at the painting.
Then he looked at Tatters and met her glare.
"You are stone-cold, damn," he commented.
Plural pulled Tatters' arm against herself and spoke excitedly.
"My friend's not scared of anything!"
But Tatters' face would immediately disprove that. When she gave the painting another look, the pale thing was no longer there, and the chair was vacant.
Then, the sound of skittering at the end of the hallway caught the attention of all three.
"Did you hear that?" Plural asked.
But it wasn't like the kind of skittering sound bugs made. It was large, like a human-sized spider running across a wooden floor. The actor's nervous reaction suggested it wasn't part of the haunted house act. If the pale thing made that sound, how could the other two hear it?
As the skittering sound continued, it came closer and approached the three until coming right past them and sounding as if the thing crawled inside the walls.
"It's him. He's here," Tatters whispered.
A surprised Plural looked at Tatters, then anxiously at the hallway.
"Can you see him?"
Tatters shook her head.
"He was on the painting. Now he's gone."
The actor looked at them both.
"Is this you?" he asked. "Are you pulling a prank?"
Tatters looked at the actor, then at Plural. She pulled her arm free from Plural's grasp and grabbed her hand instead.
"He's after me. You'll be fine," she told the actor and ran off with Plural.
As they ran, she didn't hear any words from the actor anymore, like he was too confused to talk back.
"Are you sure he's safe?" Plural asked while being pulled along.
Tatters looked at the walls and ceiling around her, following the skittering that sounded like it was right on top of them.
"It's just mind games," she replied. "He wants to get in my head."
Ahead, Tatters already spotted the mechanism for the next scare before it popped out. When she got close enough, she let go of Plural's hand and leapt, kicking the contraption the moment it popped out of the ceiling. It was a creepy doll, and she kicked it hard enough to break the mechanism by which it was attached. Down with it came the wiring that was supposed to move its arms, if only it was given time to do so. Tatters stopped to collect the lengthy wire and tied it around her waist, then she ripped a plastic knife from the doll's hand and tied the other end of the wire to the handle.
"This'll have to do," she mumbled.
Plural nervously paced next to her.
"Okay… This is really happening… Everything's okay…" she spoke to herself.
Tatters stood up, ready to go, and observed Plural's condition.
"Hey," she said and grabbed Plural's hand again. "It's just trying to scare us," she said with a reassuring smile.
Tatters turned Plural's hand around until her wristband with the panic button came into view along with her own.
"If anything happens to me, just—"
"I know," Plural said. "Press the button and Jenny will come."
Plural wore an uneasy smile on her face, like she was hoping it wouldn't come to that.
The two looked into each other's eyes for a second until suddenly the lights of the haunted house shut off, and they couldn't see a thing anymore. Plural shrieked and stepped forward to grab Tatters' other hand, getting close enough to bump into her nose.
"Oops, sorry," Plural whispered.
♦
There was some yelling in the distance, back the way they came, sounding like other guests complaining about the darkness. To Plural, it felt like the world had gotten smaller, and it was just the two of them now, standing there in silence. They were holding hands, and she could feel Tatters' breath on her face. The thought of kissing her crossed her mind, but she had nowhere near the guts to actually pull it off. Even during the short moments when she felt a sudden surge of confidence, her body did not listen to her commands. And she continued to stand there, frozen.
"W-what do we do?" Plural asked, breaking the silence and forfeiting the opportunity.
Plural felt Tatters' head moving away.
"I wanna try to kill it."
She let go of one of Plural's hands to grab something out of her pocket. Seconds later, the light from Tatters' phone screen illuminated her face, allowing Plural to see her again. Next, she turned on the torch on the back and used it to look around. But when she looked at Plural, she gasped and pulled her against her chest.
"What's going on? What happened?" Plural asked, alarmed by the look of shock on Tatters' face.
She could feel Tatters' heart racing through her chest.
"Did… you feel nothing on your head?" a stressed Tatters asked.
"What? No, I… What did you see?" Plural asked nervously.
Tatters frantically shone her torch in every direction while clenching her teeth in frustration.
"Damn it!" she yelled and pulled Plural along for a sprint to the exit.
On their way out, only one additional prop popped out of the wall, but it wasn't sturdy enough to stop them, and Tatters broke right through it. In no time at all, the two emerged from the haunted house through black curtains and found themselves outside again. Some people gave them curious looks as the out-of-breath pair came to a stop.
"What happened? Are you gonna tell me?" Plural asked while panting.
"It—" Tatters hesitantly spoke, then looked away like she didn't feel comfortable saying. "It was swallowing your head… Its teeth were all around you."
Plural's eyes widened and her hands went to feel the top of her head.
"I didn't feel anything weird."
"It was… just a scare…" a distressed Tatters said.
Plural looked at her with compassion and stepped closer to take her hand. But before she could reach it, Tatters pulled her hand away to cradle it against her chest. She was looking the other way and probably didn't even notice it. Plural pulled her hand back to herself in defeat.
"Is it still here?" Plural asked.
Tatters was anxiously looking at the people around them.
"It's fine. Let's just go," Tatters replied, turned around and tossed the wire and plastic knife from the doll into a garbage bin, then moved on without taking Plural's hand.
Slowly, Plural moved to follow, having to lightly jog to catch up to Tatters, who didn't even look back.
"So…" Plural spoke in a lighthearted tone when she caught up. "Way to ruin the evening, huh?"
No response from Tatters.
"I… shouldn't have picked the haunted house," she continued. "That was stupid of me."
Tatters glanced over at her with a frustrated look on her face, then looked away again. Still no response.
Slowly, Plural fell behind until she walked a couple of meters behind Tatters, who was clearly agitated.
"Okay," she muttered under her breath.
The mood was sour, and Plural had no idea how to fix it. This was supposed to be a fun night, like a date. An actual date, this time. The haunted house started off well, and they even had a short, romantic moment when the lights went out and Plural almost went in for a kiss. What happened? Plural had prepared many topics in her head to steer the conversation into a romantic mood, but none of them felt suitable now.
Plural jogged forward to close the distance and to make another attempt at small talk.
"Is it always that scary?"
"No," Tatters replied without looking at her. "Not when it's just me."
That was all the answer she was going to get. Tatters didn't even bother looking in her direction. Her mind was clearly elsewhere, and her indifferent response to Plural's advances felt like small tokens of rejection each time.
Slowly, Plural's fell behind again, until she found herself following Tatters around in silence, like her "date" wasn't even aware of her existence anymore.
Anxiously, she went through the list of potential topics in her head again. Tonight was one she'd rehearsed thousands of times in her head. Her plan was supposed to lead up to her confession, but none of her rehearsals ever went this poorly.
Before she knew it, Plural found herself passing the time by daydreaming, practicing the topics in her imagination.
"So, what's your type?"
Imaginary Tatters didn't give her any eye contact when she answered.
"Don't have one."
Followed by some more silence. Plural draped her head down in shame. She'd fantasized about this moment many times before, and it usually went a little better than this. Before long, she raised her head, swallowed and moved on to the next question.
"Have you ever… had a crush on anyone?"
Imaginary Tatters responded even more bluntly than before.
"No."
Still no eye contact.
"N-Not even on Mippie?" Imaginary Plural asked.
Finally, eye contact. Imaginary Tatters gave her the same look she gave the average stranger.
"Why would I have a crush on her?"
"B-Because," imaginary Plural stuttered. "You like girls, right? I thought maybe—"
"I don't like girls," Imaginary Tatters cut her reply short, looking offended.
Plural's heart was beating like a drum, and she stopped dead in her tracks, watching Tatters walking along like she'd forgotten Plural was there at all. After a moment, Plural moved her feet again, now following Tatters at an even greater distance.
Never in any of her fantasies had that ever happened. Why would Tatters say that? Did Plural misremember, and Tatters doesn't actually like girls? What if her imagination played out this way because deep inside, Plural knew that this is what would really happen?
She looked at the real Tatters—who was now further ahead and smaller than ever before—and considered how those hurtful words didn't seem all that out of character after all.
Plural looked at her hand. One of the vital steps of her confession plan involved holding hands. But after that little exchange in her head, just the thought of grabbing Tatters' hand made her feel like a disgusting creep.
Plural shook her head and noticed how her thoughts were taking a dark plunge. One she could recover from by picking up the pace and talking to the real Tatters, on whom this whole plan was based.
"H-Hey, Tat—"
"You shouldn't be with me," Tatters interrupted her.
"Huh?" Plural, gutted by the unforgiving comment, felt a sharp sting in her chest.
Tatters stopped and looked deep in thought with her fingers on her chin.
"If I'm gonna have any chance at killing it, I don't think you should be with me. He'll use you against me."
Tatters finally turned her head and looked at Plural for the first time in a while. Plural looked back at her with her eyes wide and her mouth slightly open, begging Tatters to spot her misery.
But instead, Tatters' eyes looked oblivious, like her thoughts were occupied by something else entirely, paying no attention to Plural's body language.
Plural had already forgotten what Tatters just said and had no response to give. Right now, she wanted nothing more than for Tatters to raise her eyebrows and ask her what's wrong.
But after some silent eye contact, Tatters turned back and moved on again, seemingly unable to see anything wrong with the look in Plural's eyes. A defeated Plural followed obediently, like her legs were on autopilot.
They'd been walking in this depressing manner for a while now, and any observer would surely wonder what the two were even doing at the fair at all. Although there were hardly any observers left out here at the boundary of the fair.
Tatters, still lost in her own little world, walked through a gate to leave the fair grounds. Plural, about five meters behind, watched the gate slam closed in front of her since Tatters didn't even bother holding it open.
Plural paused before the closed gate, wondering what would happen if she stopped here. How far would Tatters walk before she noticed? More importantly, if she walked away now, how could she possibly explain to Saturn that her confession failed so miserably as this?
Plural's lips trembled as she watched Tatters grow smaller in the distance while her eyes started watering up. The path of least resistance was still to follow, so Plural opened the gate on her own and followed. Beyond this point were mostly grass fields, with the dark woods in the distance. The two walked along a hill that separated the grass fields from the city in the same way they'd walked all evening. Far too far apart to be able to exchange words.
Plural had hardly slept at all last night, lying awake in bed from all the anxiety over today. This was the moment. Everything depended on this night, and it was completely falling apart. Nothing went according to the script in her head. At this point, Plural had all but lost hope for any kind of confession happening tonight. In fact, maybe ever.
How would Tatters realistically react if she did?
"I'm… actually into you… like, romantically…" imaginary Plural spoke.
Imaginary Tatters stopped and looked at her with that same frown from before.
"And I was… wondering…" Plural continued, "if you… feel the same…"
That was one of the versions that Plural had prepared.
"No," imaginary Tatters replied, needing no time to think. "Don't know when I ever made you think that," she turned around and walked on. "And even if I did, love is just another weakness."
Back in reality, Plural couldn't stop herself from sobbing, and she slowed herself down out of shame, so that Tatters wouldn't hear her weeping. As she walked with her arms clutched around her waist, she could already feel the first tear rolling down her cheek and the sides of her mouth tightening on their own.
Eventually, Tatters stopped and looked at her surroundings like she'd spent the whole time zoning out and unaware of how far they'd been walking.
Then, she turned around and looked at Plural, looking surprised to find her so far back. Plural stopped and panicked, quickly moving her arms to dry the tears off her cheeks and grunting to try and clear her throat.
After a second of confused hesitation, Tatters walked over, studying Plural's face in bewilderment.
"You're… crying," a shocked Tatters said when she came close enough, then ran over to close the last little bit of distance. "What's wrong? Why are you crying?"
Plural looked at the ground to avoid eye contact and took a deep breath. Her date had finally asked her what was wrong, but after so long, she didn't feel like crying in her arms anymore.
"I wanna go home…"
Which surprised Tatters even more.
"O-Okay…"
Plural moved her feet and walked on, passing Tatters, who remained in place and looked completely confused as she watched Plural walk off.
It didn't take long before Tatters ran over to catch up to her again, ending up by her side and leaning over to view her facial expression with the curiosity of a small child.
"Hey! What's going on?" Tatters asked, clumsily and uncomfortably.
"I just want today to be over," Plural said, trying not to cry again.
"I-Is it something I did?" Tatters asked with increasing panic in her voice.
Plural needed a couple of seconds to repress the lump in her throat before she could speak again.
"Ever since we left the haunted house, you've hardly looked at me," Plural said with such a weak voice she almost whispered.
Tatters looked back at the fair grounds in the distance.
"And that was almost an hour ago," Plural added.
"I—" Tatters stuttered, "I couldn't stop thinking about the ghost eating your head."
"I understand," Plural replied with little emotion in her voice. "I figured."
"If I don't figure out how to kill him, he's not gonna leave us alone," Tatters continued in her own defense. "I might hurt you!"
Plural nodded, still looking at her feet while walking. Meanwhile, Tatters was still walking by her side and studying Plural's face like she was solving a math problem.
"I'm sorry... for ignoring you..." Tatters apologized awkwardly. "You seem hurt... I think..."
Plural was starting to feel bad now and continued to look at the ground. She started wondering if it was all her own fault for planning an elaborate confession and then burying herself in despair when it didn't go exactly according to the script.
"I'm an idiot, Tats…" she whispered.
Tatters straightened her back and nervously scratched the back of her head.
"I know… what you were doing when you split us up from the others," she said.
Plural averted her eyes in embarrassment.
Tatters tugged on her arm and stopped her, then turned her around so they faced each other. Plural's heart was beating fast again, just like it was during her imaginary conversations. But unlike her imagination, she was now looking at the real Tatters. The one who'd always given her a different look than she did anyone else, and the one she'd had a special relationship with from the very beginning.
"Uhh…"
Tatters was blushing and looking equally embarrassed, like she was trying to build up the courage to say something but couldn't form the right words.
Then, she took her eyes away from Plural and to a field of blue flowers that grew in the grass fields down the hill on which they stood. For a moment, she stared at the flowers like someone hesitating to jump out of a plane, and Plural saw the same kind of anxiety and hesitation in her eyes that she herself had at the start of this night.
Tatters let go of Plural's hand and ran down the hill in a not-so-graceful way until she landed by the blue flowers. Plural stepped to the edge of the hill and watched as Tatters frantically checked the flowers like she was on a time limit, until eventually picking the nicest one and turning back around.
Upon locking eyes with Plural again, she froze for a second, and Plural could see an adorable blush on Tatters' cheeks.
Wasting no time, Tatters stumbled back upon the hill with just as much grace as before, and Plural took a step back to make room. When Tatters made it back up, she stopped and froze with her face only centimeters removed from Plural's, then slowly straightened herself up and took a step back.
After another second of silence, of which many happened tonight, Tatters extended her hand to present the blue flower.
"I—It—" Tatters stuttered trying to form words.
She seemed more nervous now than in any life-or-death situation she'd ever been in, showing a side of herself that nobody else in the world had the privilege to see.
"I-It's beautiful… like you."
With her own face equally red and her eyes wide with surprise, Plural was lost for words. Not knowing how to act, she simply raised her hand to accept the flower which Tatters had so graciously collected for her. For a moment, their fingers touched, and Plural felt her body shaking with adrenaline. At this distance, she believed Tatters could probably hear her pounding heart.
With her confession plan now completely violated, Plural had no more script to fall back on and was forced to improvise.
"T-Thank you."
♦
Thirty minutes until Crawling Chaos finds Jenny's world.