世界は流れてく　
同じリズムで　

crying in sorrow

可能性しか要らない　
何が出来るかさ ?

tsubasa
alice nine

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

A wisp of color swirls around in an inky prison, a phrase one might call their mind. It lights a path in their wake as they whisper the unknown, searching for whoever this abysmal imprisonment belongs to.

It tinkles with joy once they spot your seemingly unconscious figure, whirling around you with worry and relief. The light tickle of their gleam rouses you from your slumber, a jingle of amusement ringing in your ears as you attempted to swat away the intrusion.

Your eyes opened with a delighted gasp at the sight of the wondrous enigma in front of you, too entranced by it's glowing nature to even worry about the darkness swallowing you whole. It was as if you were put in a trance, your eyes following the wisp eagerly as it illuminates the murk around you.

"What are you?" You pondered out loud, holding out your hand for the wisp. Without hesitation did it weave through your fingers, humming incoherent whispers. It almost seemed it was a language of their own, but it was too quiet for you to make out. Before you could ask the next best question, it's whispering stopped along with their movements; their light dimming.

You yelped with shock as it approaches your face with alarming speed, your eyes going cross-eyed as you watched their light pulse, trilling incoherently with what you could only assume was their response to your question. There was no way you could have translated their strange mannerism as a warning--sensing a danger that you were unable to pinpoint. Not when you were stuck in your own contraption.

"ǫ̴͚͓̪̣͇̻̟͆͗͑̍̎̄͐͠l̴̛̦͛̍̇͂͆s̵̛̞̹̜̱͙͓͚̝͗͑̑̈̃̓͛̂̈́̕͠į̸̨̛̣̜̭̰̜̠̻̞̤̻̀͗̓̏͂́̎̈́̽̑̕ͅ ̴̬̣̄̽̍̄́͛̃̀̆r̴̢̳̥͙̳͛́̃͆͐̈͗̉́̕͝q̸̪̼̦̠̼͚̒̑̀͒̾̌̅͝ͅ"

Cupping the wisp in the palm of your hands, you stared down at them with confusion and worry. It didn't take a lot to know they were scared of something. "I-I'm sorry. I don't understand you." You frowned, the guilt that formed in your stomach short-lived when a pounding headache formed out of nothing, pulling out a hiss of pain,

"It's unstable. We should stop!"

"Take a good look, because this will be the last thing you'll ever see."

"Get her out of there!"

You cried out at the painful intrusion on your mind, screwing your eyes shut at the unbearable pang in your skull. You could see the light of the wisp frantically pulse behind your eyelids, their illumination no longer comforting, but overstimulating.

"ẉ̵͇̹̣͈͍͍̍̅̇͑̚a̴̢̨̙̱͖̼̙͙̐͗̆͆̑̚͜͠d̴̡̢̛̪̟̼͍̗͉͇̘̞̗̋͌̈̇̐̈̆̏̀͘ͅͅì̵̢̝̺̩̰͈̝̗̙͐͂͊͜͠ ̸̨̟̱̦͋̾̓͆͛͛̅̉͌ư̷̢̢̪͉̩̮̰̝̘̻̬̋͆̑̌̔͑̌̑̀̎̚̚͠͠p̷̡̣͈̦̖̳̤͈͇͂̏̇̍̋̾́̾̌͋̊͋̊̏̉!̵̧̡͔̠̼͎͋̏̎̕"

"If this little victory of yours give you the slightest bit of hope in the end of my reign, you'd be foolishly mistaken."

"Your weakness, Y/n, is morality. It's choking you. Don't you feel it?"

Multiple voices overlay each other, growing louder and louder with the intention to keep you from moving forward--to keep you trapped for good. "Stop. Stop. Stop." You muttered over and over again, covering your ears to muffle the noise. "Just go away!" You screamed, the words raw as they ripped through your throat, chest heaving.

With every breath you took, they grew short and then. "No, no, no. Not now. Please." You cried out, your chest tightening at the sign of a panic attack. You hadn't had a panic attack since you were small, never alone to handle them on your own thanks to Peter. But he isn't here now. You can't handle them without Peter--you need him! You need--

A soft caress brushes past your hair, moving the unruly strands out of your face. Their cool hand was a welcoming contrast against your own; hot and sweaty. You leant into their touch, releasing a shaky breath of relief at the quiet; the voices no longer.

It was familiar, like you knew them all too well. You wanted to open your eyes, to see if they were real, to see if you were losing your mind. But you were afraid. If you opened your eyes, would this comforting presence disappear? Would you be all alone?

The anticipation grew thick, throat tightening, as you felt them grow closer. An involuntary shiver racked your body as their breath tickled your ear, their whisper short and soft.

"Wake up."

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Gasping out for air, your heart banging against your chest (it's beat heavy and hard) as you sat up from the comfort of the pillows of your bedroom, clawing away the mask that restricted your breathing.

You're home. Why are you home? Weren't you suppose to be--well. . . dead? You half-expected to be stuck in a limbo, not quite heaven and not quite hell, just like the one in your nightmare. Or was everything else a dream, too? A quick look at your person told you everything you need, your suit's tears and burns proof of your fighting attempt to stop Kingpin and his collider.

The collider.

Fighting for balance on your feet, you shuddered at the numb feeling throughout your body, the faint burn reminding you that you aren't fully healed, yet. You limped funkily towards your window, pulling back the curtains despite your fear of the world being in ruins.

You expected the city to be wrecked upon recognition, unfairly paying the consequences of your failure. You expected the ground to be caved in; cracked open. Smoke. Fire. Chaos. You expected every stereotype imaginable that you've seen in every 'it's the end of the world' movie out there.

Not the Eiffel Tower.

Furiously rubbing at your eyes, you silently hoped you were just exhausted and delirious from the fight, but it proved to be pointless. The Eiffel Tower still stood proud and tall off in the distance, staring back at you mockingly. "What the fu--" Your hand slapped over your mouth at the sound of your voice; young and squeaky.

"Y/n, I'm not telling you again, you better be dressed. You're going to be late!"

There was already so many things wrong. That was most definitely not Willow. A random stranger knows your name. She was speaking French, and you understood her. And now that you're taking a closer look at it, this wasn't your room either.

It looked like your room. The walls remained the boring color the room came with, the same bedspread willow had scavenged out of her closet for you, but the room itself was. . . roomier. It was missing quite a few things that made you feel at home, replaced with things you don't remember possessing.

Like the posters on the wall. Jagged Stone? Clara Nightingale? You've never heard of these people before! Where was your favorite band? You're favorite character from your favorite show? Where was the indent that Peter had accidentally made when Michelle had thrown a pillow a little too hard at him?

And on the other side of the room where your study desk laid. No longer was it cluttered with school books or sticky notes, but it was nicely kept with an even nicer PC (that was definitely out of your budget) sitting on it.

Every thing that you had found out of place, that has been added by someone other than yourself, only fueled your theory. And the longer you were awake, the more it made sense as your recalled your final moments.

"This is my room. My variant's room." You mumbled, eyes blown with shock and excitement despite your predicament. "I'm in Paris." You breathlessly say, cupping your face in revelation. You swore this would have been a lot more cooler if you weren't scared out of your mind right now.

Spotting a body-length mirror hanging against what you were sure was the closet, you see a few polaroid's taped against it, intrigued to know a little more about your variant's life. There were many faces, a little too much then you expected. Before you could evaluate the pictures thoroughly, your attention was pulled away by your reflection.

Just how your room almost looked the same, so did you. Same face, same ethnicity, but there were some things that stood out to you. There was a freckle you once had now missing, and maybe your hair is a bit shorter--

"No!" Pressing the insignia on your chest, you cried out in despair that it wasn't your suit pressing them into hiding. "That was like, the only thing I had going for me!" You whined.

"Y/n."

You heard the faint footsteps climbing up the stairs, putting a pause in your pity party. "Crap." Throwing open the closet, you threw on the first thing you grabbed. There wasn't enough time to pat your variant on the back for their personal style.

"You better hope you're dressed!"

Flinging your suit and mask into the closet, you slammed it shut just in time as the one to your room opened. Folding your arms behind your back (you didn't have enough time to take off your web tech) you awkward smile falls at the sight of your variant's mom.

She tuts at the sight of your hair, messy and tangled. Her stance was like every other mom out there when they've about to scold their kind, her hands on her hips as her face twists into a scowl. "Look at you, you don't even have your shoes on!" She exclaims.

Your throat tightens uncomfortably, mouth dry as your tried to articulate a response. She was just as pretty in the picture Willow had given you, albeit a bit more older, but still the prettiest woman you've ever seen.

Any slightest annoyance the woman held at your tardiness was lost to the sight of your watering eyes, her face softening as her tongue kissed her teeth. "Why are you crying?" She asks with worry taut in her voice, a strong contrast to the one she used on you before.

"Allergies?" You pathetically replied, blinking away the sting in your eyes. She shakes her head, knowing well enough you didn't have allergies. But against her better judgement, she pulls you into a hug, rubbing comforting circles into your back. "I'm sick of you." She sighs, failing to keep her amusement hidden. You gave her a watery laugh with no reply, your heart heavy as you wrapped your arms around her waist. "Nightmare?" She coos.

'Sure, if a nightmare lasts seventeen years and counting', you thought.

Nodding your head, you reluctantly pulled away, shyly looking away to wipe your tears. "I'll, uh, get my shoes on." You say, voice small and quiet, but she still heard you. "Good. Or else I'd force you to go to school barefooted." She jokes. The attempt was there to cheer you up--you know--but all it did was throw you back into the never ending cycle of anxiety.

Of course it was school! Why else would you be up so early? Definitely not out of free will, that's for sure. No variant of yourself would ever find joy in waking up so early in the day. But that should be the least of your worries. Not only are you going to be repeating--middle school? first year of high school?--but you're expected to interact with total strangers and act like you didn't come from a different dimension!

"Chop, chop! You've got 10 minutes before you're late. I better see you out the door in the next minute." Your variant's mom teases before leaving you to find the shoes that were nowhere to be found.

You're screwed.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

It took longer than a minute to find the shoes and book bag that belonged to your variant, shoving just about everything you thought was needed into it. "I think that's it?" You mumble, looking into your bag to check over it's contents, when a phone begins to ring. "Of course." You sighed, following the ring tone back to your bed; the device hiding under your pillow.

'Alya ♡ . . . Is FaceTiming'

"You've got to be kidding me!" You groaned out in frustration, throwing down your book bag. How many more surprises are going to be dropped on you before setting foot outside of your room? Should you even answer it? What if you act completely different that your variant? But wouldn't not answering make them suspicious?

Groaning with annoyance, you threw the idea around in your head as your thumb hovered between the 'answer' and 'decline' button, before you gave in and answered anyways. Giving your best smile, you were met with the same girl you've seen in the photos, an expecting look on her face. "Where are you, girl? The bell is about to ring and you're nowhere in sight!"

"Oh, um. . . yeah. I woke up late toady, but I'll be there in a few!" It was the basic truth, just leaving out some 'minor' details, but it still came out awkward; your eyes diverting from your screen as Alya leans in to stare your down.

"Uh, oh. Looks like Marinette is rubbing off on you." She teases, almost immediately getting reprimanded for her comment as another voice exclaims, "Am not!" off camera, making Alya laugh as she fights off the girl from squeezing herself into view of the camera. "Hi, Y/n!" She struggles, squeezing a little laugh out of you.

'They remind me of Ned and MJ', you thought, a twinge of bittersweet mixing in with your smile. You look towards the clock resting on your bedside drawer, the time yelling at you to leave. "I should get going if I want to make it in time. I'll see you guys soon."

"We'll make sure to wait for you!" The bluenette, Marinette as you now know her as, pipes in one last time before being shoved away. It didn't last too long before she's squeaking away about something, clobbering Alya in the process. The poor girl struggles to keep her phone from slipping from her grip, annoyingly calling out to the girl.

"Marinette!"

"Sorry, sorry!"

"Hang on, girl. Marinette is flipping out! See you when you get here, k?"

And just like that, the call abruptly ends. You were allowed to breathe and take in what you were dealing with. They seemed nice enough, a bit messy; a crowd you often find yourself surrounded with.

"No need to be upset. You'll figure something out." You pepped talked yourself. When there's a way in, there's a way out. With Dawn's help, you're sure you'll find a way. You're just going to have to hope that the collider was unstable enough to destroy itself. New York is fine, Willow's fine, and your friends are fine.

So, with your newfound confidence, you stepped out into the streets of Paris, confident in yourself (and your special sixth sense) that you're heading in the right direction. Nothing was going to stop you from going home, not even the Universe herself.

━━━━━━━━ 𝑻𝑶 𝑩𝑬 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑼𝑬𝑫
(dec.28) there's an easter egg h1dden somewhere in this chapter. can you find it? :)

edited: x/x
words: 2491