𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐒, t.blade

060: The park with the dead trees

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

today would've been a good day if Techno had answered any of your attempts to reach out to him. but he hasn't so today is not a good day. you sigh and put aside your phone on your desk. maybe he's just sleeping. or doing something with his family. there's probably a totally normal reason why he isn't answering that has nothing to do with what Wilbur said on your stream yesterday.

at the same time though, you can't help but wonder what in all of Tartarus would happen if he never responds. like, ever. maybe that would mean he regrets what he said. what he did while he was here at your house. you don't even want to think about what level of hurt you'd be then. you try to think positively. maybe he understands, maybe he doesn't care about what Wilbur said, or perhaps maybe he hasn't even seen it yet and you can explain it to him yourself. yes, that's it.

a plan is quickly forming in your head. you just have to subtly start talking about the trip and then 'suddenly remember' that you haven't told him about why you were so mad at Dream and then tell him the whole story, beginning to end. but possibly leaving out the whole love confession part. that story can be told some other time. or never. never sounds good.

shaking your head, causing your hair to slap you in the face, you get up from your position on your gaming chair and walk out of your room, dragging your feet behind you. it's just one of those days where you don't have enough energy to walk properly, much less think anywhere near rationally. maybe that's why you've been overthinking Technos current radio silence. maybe it's the fuzzy feeling in your brain that numbs your pain, the feeling of your feet connecting with the floor and making the words in your brain merge together that is causing this hell. but all the same, you can't use the fact that you're not feeling well as an excuse for everything bad that happens in your life.

you almost want to gag, realizing that you're overthinking why you're overthinking. what kind of loser does that? not you. not anymore. today is going to be a good day despite how it has gone so far. maybe you just need someone to talk to? you move around the kitchen as you wonder who you should reach out to. then it hits you like a lightning bolt and you abruptly stop moving, standing like a statue in the middle of the kitchen. Avery. of course. you place the glass bowl you've been carrying on the kitchen counter and run up to your room where you left your phone.

loud thumps echo through the house as you, very stressed, climb the stairs. you use the railing to push off with your hands and arms to give yourself an extra boost with every step. when were you last this excited about something? it must have been ages ago, yet you feel like it was just yesterday. 'or maybe the first time you met Tech you fucking simp' one of the voices break through the barricade that you have worked up in your head. it's to keep the voices contained in a mind space where you can't hear them.

maybe a psychologist would help more than just a literal wall inside your brain, but hey. temporary solutions. or maybe even economic ones? at least you don't spontaneously buy stuff. you think. maybe you do. you think about that as you search through your room for that damn phone. Apollo knows if you got a penny every time you lost it you would be rich by now.

you grunt as you move the heavy bedsheets. your eyes widen as a certain item catches your eye. "ha! I found you!" you exclaim to the very not alive object as you grab it. the triumphant feeling lingers inside of you as you happily skip down the stairs while trying to find Avery in your contacts. you've found the two of your text messages by the time you get back to the kitchen.

Avery

hi :]

hello <3