The All-Knowing Eye [Yan!DSMP x Reader]

III | CHAPTER 30: I'm a deceased playing victim | III

FANART SECTION
From CHAPTER 27
Made by: Aen!

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With water, you clean your face in the bathroom, your breathing having quickened after you woke up from the odd dream. Or nightmare. Yeah, you'd be quicker to call it a nightmare.

In any case, the moment you woke up, you thought you were dying. There was not a single light you could find, the only sounds there being George's breathing and snoring, which also brought your mind some clarity as to where you were. Still freaked out, however, you got out of bed – which caused a light-headedness to hit you very suddenly – and ran to the bathroom, where you locked yourself up in the hopes you could calm down a little, but unfortunately, luck isn't on your side.

After a bit of breathing exercises and reassurances and promises made to yourself, you get out of the bathroom, going to the living room instead where you at first expected to find Dream and Aimsey, but it seems like they too have either left the Syndicate base – outside, where the monsters are – or have gone to a separate room to save their energy there. Whatever the case may be, you're strongly against your daughter hanging out with that mistake, but you can hardly tell her to stop doing so without worsening your relationship with her. You can warn her, but you can't demand her to stop without coming over as overprotective. It's her life, so you've decided to let her make her own decisions, even if you disagree so strongly.

The living room is quiet. A little bit too quiet, especially considering it's not empty. On the couch, with a book in his hand, you find Wilbur. His glasses can be found on his nose, the left glass having a crack in the corner, as he is turned towards your direction, but he doesn't notice, or pretends not to, your presence yet until he turns the page, which is when his eyes move to make contact with yours, despite his head not moving. It's rather intimidating, but you don't cower in his presence like others would've done. You just glare back at him, clenching your robotic fist in the hopes that he notices your hostility towards him.

At the moment, you're not exactly in the mood for a conversation, let alone with him. So, as he allows a smirk to grow upon his face, you only squeeze your eye at him, preying that he doesn't open his mouth, but of course, he does.

"I already thought I heard some movement in the halls. I thought you'd be Ghostbur, though." His comment is not only quite odd, but also makes you wonder: what does he think of the spirit who may as well be him?

However, before you can even ask him about that, you notice the book he's reading. Non-fiction, huh? As he sees what you're looking at, he chuckles, putting the pages towards his chest so you can see the cover more clearly. "I know, right? You must've not expected me to ever read something other than English fictional literature. But I suppose with your late ramblings about the wars that took place before the apocalypse, I got curious." Ramblings? Have you rambled about history? "Judging by your confused look, you must have forgotten. Didn't expect otherwise."

"Why the fuck would I ramble about history?"

He shrugs. "You are the president, Y/N. I suppose it'd make sense for you to have done research on those events, especially considering the war that may just happen until either sides declares it."

"I don't have any recollection of talking to you about subjects like that, though," you suspiciously comment, and he simply shrugs, before patting the seat next to him, trying to tell you to sit down there. You refuse to, however. "I don't trust you."

"Nobody does. That's the whole fun thing about it. Nobody thinks that I've met the Egg and felt its influence, because of that reputation I've built for myself. Only makes it more enjoyable when they discover that I have indeed interacted with both sides." He grabs the cup of tea on the table as he continues reading, acting a lot calmer than you'd have ever thought him to. However, your mind is racing. Have you actually talked about subjects like that? If so, to whom? Why can't you remember? Is it another blackout? Were you drunk? Or is your brain rotting more than you realize?