⚠️ Content Warnings ⤴
Info
Content Warnings
- Language
- Implied and alluded to sexual content
- Themes of toxic codependency and trauma
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Animosity lays heavy in the air as Spec and Alexis begin to traverse the Cool Desert. Neither had spoken since their brief confrontation at the Sunset Coast, and the tension was palpable.
Spec kicks angrily at the violet-yellow sand. It may have been hours ago, but he was still miffed over being blamed for something clearly not his fault. "I mean yeah, Alexis only ended up here because of me, but does that really make it my fault? Fucking idiot. Sometimes things just happen, and you've got to deal with it, instead of blaming the first person you see."
The two continue their journey for a few more hours. The lack of a proper day/night cycle in this level is messing with both Alexis and Spec's internal clocks, making them even more irritable. For all intents and purposes, this seems like it'll be a miserable journey.
"Do you want to know what really pisses me off?" Alexis says, breaking the silence.
Spec looks over at him quizzically. The last thing he wanted to do right now was talk, but the lack of proper mental stimulation over the past few hours was threatening to bore him to death.
"What?" Spec mutters, clearly no more pleased than Alexis that their only method of passing the time was conversation.
"I've been doing some math in my head, and I figured out how long it'll take us to reach the city uninterrupted." Alexis says grimly.
"What did you find?"
"Four hundred fucking years, Spec. Four. Hundred. Fucking. Years."
This is enough to throw Spec off— he'd figured no matter how long it took, the time dilation of the Backrooms would probably only reduce their time away to a month, tops. But four hundred years? That'd be decades in Level 11, at least. It wasn't a problem for him specifically— he was one of the many victims of the place to have lost the ability to age. Most individuals who directly noclipped from the Frontrooms were affected by this phenomenon, but almost every backborn individual had a relatively normal aging process.
"Shit… if Alexis is backborn, then he won't— he'll be stuck here until he dies. I'd have effectively killed him… and given him the slowest death possible."
Spec clamps his jaw shut, and exhales in stress. This was not the revelation he wanted to be gifted today.
"Alexis? Are you… are you backborn, by any chance…?" Spec asks wearily. Most of the irritation he had felt was beginning to slip away, now that the gravity of the situation was starting to set in.
"I already know what you're thinking, you reprobate. You just want to slip out of here the second I tell you that I noclipped. No sense in putting it off at this point— no, I'm not backborn. I've been here a while, and trust me, it does NOT get better. Aging is a privilege. I've watched friends wither and die, all while I stay perpetually locked in the body of my twenty-two-year-old self. You never get used to it."
He draws in a sharp breath.
"In other words Spec, go ahead. Take off. I won't die here, and within twenty years, you'll have forgotten everything you did." Alexis's words drip with venom. "Just let me start getting used to the isolation early."
Spec's face contorts into a scowl. "Why do you think so lowly of me? I met you a day ago, and we've only spoken twice. Why are you judging me without even getting to know me? Is it trauma? Anger issues? Borderline personality disorder? Just pick a struggle already, and stop making it my problem."
Alexis attempts to slap Spec across the face, but Spec grabs his hand before it connects.
"Listen, Alexis. I don't know why you're being such a fucking bitch, and I really don't care. I don't know if mommy and daddy beat you too hard when you were a child, or if you just want someone to blame for our situation, but I ask you to kindly cut the shit. Let's not get into this when we have 400 years to deal with each other. Please."
Spec releases his grip, and Alexis throws his hand back down. Spec sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and squinting his eyes shut in frustration.
"Sorry. I can see why you've been looking like you want to kill me for the past day-ish. You were doing math of all things. Ew."
"Oh no, the feeling of wanting to wring your neck is constant, don't you forget it."
Spec smirks at the comment, but the expression quickly fades as he realizes Alexis isn't exactly joking.
Alexis sighs upon seeing Spec's reaction, and mutters some sort of apology as he stars walking forward into the desert.
"What's his problem?" Spec wonders. "Why don't I just up and leave this asshole here to rot? No one would ever know, and he certainly deserves it at this point."
As Spec watches Alexis walk away, he begins to ponder the idea.
"No. That's not who I am. I'm not going to let some stuck-up prick rule over me. Besides, I've already come this far. I can't turn back now— it'd be a waste."