#TOMMY RELEARNING HOW TO UNCLE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thezeekrecord · 4 years

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GAGEGN ch12

[index/summary]

REPORT: Regarding G.Freeman's recovery from the resonance cascade (pt.1)

“Daddy, I wanna play the Playtation!”

“That is the Playta—I mean, Playstation, bud.” Gordon insisted, watching Joshua focus heavily on the controller in his hands. “Which game do you wanna play? We got, uhhh...Katamari. You wanna play Katamari?”

“This one!” Joshua shouted, clumsily picking up the unopened box for Red Dead Revolver and showing it to Gordon upside down.

“Uhhh, I don’t think that’s a good one for you, Josh.” Gordon said, reaching out to take the box and look at the age rating. “Why don’t I put in Katamari and you can try it out?”

“I wanna play the fucking cowboys!”

Gordon couldn’t help but laugh a little as he set Red Dead Revolver aside to put in Katamari. Joshua threw a small fit about it at first, but Gordon picked up the controller to start playing a little. He wasn’t playing to do well—he was still testing out a new way to hold the controller that made literally any mildly difficult task possible, given his prosthetic hand wasn’t dexterous enough to hit the tiny buttons so close to each other. He had it set out in his lap upside down, diverting the button mashing to his left hand while he used his prosthetic index finger to move the joystick. It was a good idea in theory, he thought, but the controller was still upside down, so he had to think in reverse to get the Prince to move the way he wanted him to on top of relearning the button placement. Frustration at this hobby being made an insurmountable task aside, he only played to catch Joshua’s interest, and it worked within a matter of minutes. Joshua swiped the controller from Gordon, allowing him to finally ease back on the couch with a deep, exhausted sigh.

It was the morning after another sleepless night. He was quickly finding that as much as he wanted coffee to save him, it really didn’t do him much good—in fact, it only made him sleepier. He had to rely on willpower alone to keep him awake for his son. Usually he did okay, only falling asleep towards the end of the day when Joshua was already tuckered out—but today, the morning after a frustrating dinner with the Science Team and company, he was feeling like he was at his limit.

He pushed on, though. He stood up a couple times to do some half-hearted exercises to keep him awake, but after the third round of shitty jumping jacks, Gordon sat down on the couch and immediately fell asleep upon contact.

He woke to a hand shaking his shoulder, a distinctly adult voice saying his name. Gordon opened his eyes, looking up to find the kind, but anxious eyes of Darnold.

“Oh. Hey.” Gordon greeted, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and immediately looking to where he expected to find Joshua. He wasn’t there, though, the only sign of him being the Playstation controller he’d left behind. “Oh, shit. Where’s Josh?”

“You don’t need to worry about that, Dr. Freeman.” Darnold answered. “Actually, uhhh, Tommy and I are gonna watch over him for a week.”

“What?” Gordon questioned, standing uneasily. “Why? I didn’t—we didn’t make any plans like that.”

“Well, no.” Darnold replied, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Listen, Dr. Freeman...I realize this is kinda gonna suck to hear, but we talked this over after you left last night, and we don’t think you’re really in a good state to watch over him right now.”

Gordon stared at Darnold in disbelief. “What? You’re just gonna take my fucking son?”

“He’s gonna be right next door, it’s not like we’re taking him to fucking Alcatraz. You’re free to come and stay with us, too, or visit whenever you want, it’s just...y’know.” Darnold indicated at the living room. Gordon had let it become sort of a mess. “Kids pick up on these things, Gordon. I know it’s not easy, and I understand you being upset, but Joshua doesn’t need an environment like this.”

“I’m doing the best I can!” Gordon argued. “What do you expect me to do, here? Just magically forgive Benry and let everything that happened just—just not matter?”

“Of course not.” Darnold said calmly. “That’s the whole point, actually. Childcare is a lot of work, and I know it must be hard to take care of him and try to sort your shit out at the same time. Trust me, this is coming from personal childhood experience, I know what it’s like being the kid in this situation. We’re just giving you the space you need to figure everything out, is all.”

“What do I need to figure out?”

“Uhhh, you know. Therapy might be a start.”

“Therapy?” Gordon echoed. “I don’t need therapy, man. I’m fine.”

“Are you?” Darnold asked in a sudden sharp tone that took Gordon by surprise. After a brief, contemplative second, he returned to his casual voice. “Listen, this was...well, actually, it sort of was my idea, but the rest of the Science Team agrees this seems like it’s what needs to happen. We’ll watch over him for the week while you figure out what you need, and then obviously, you’re free to call us for additional help at any time. All you have to do is ask.”

Gordon let out an exhausted sigh, plopping down onto his couch and burying his face in his hands. He felt the couch shift a little as Darnold sat down beside him.

“Uhh, I know we’re not, like, all that close or anything.” Darnold said uneasily. “But y’know, you’ve got a lot of cool people who wanna look out for you. And I care, too. This whole, uhhh...I guess you could call it an intervention? It looks harsher than it might for any one of the rest of us just because you have a responsibility to your kid, y’know? It’s not an easy position. On one hand, you just went through something really fucked up. On the other hand, you owe it to Joshua to get back up on your feet so you can provide the best for him.”

“How am I supposed to just shape up in a few days, though?” Gordon asked totally honestly.

“Well, it’s not like we expect you to be in perfect shape in a week. That’s unfair.” Darnold answered. “It’s a starting point, though. It’s a little bit of time to, uhhh...take stock, you know? I know you said you wanna homeschool him, and I think that’s a cool idea, but maybe enrolling him in a preschool would give you some breathing space. Just things like that, figuring out what sort of help you need and where to get it.”

Gordon fell silent, running his fingers through his hair and sighing. He had to admit, Darnold’s cool, rational tone was hard to get too worked up against—particularly when he was so tired. And even if nothing else, he really needed a nap.

“I think you’ll be alright, Dr. Freeman.” Darnold said comfortingly. “We’re all here for you if you need. You don’t have to go through anything alone.”

“...Thank you.” Gordon murmured finally. “...Can I ask one thing, though?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Benry’s staying with you, right?”

“Uhhh, theoretically. We haven’t seen him since last night.”

Gordon slowly sat up. “Well, wherever he is, I don’t want him in the same house as Josh. I know you guys want me to trust him, it’s just—”

“That’s not how I feel. I totally get it.” Darnold interrupted. “Benry’s...well, I don’t wanna insult Tommy’s friend, but I sure wouldn’t trust him with my kid if I were in your shoes.”

Gordon couldn’t help but bark out a loud laugh. “Fuck. I’m so fucking glad at least one of you sees it that way.” After a pause, Gordon leaned back on the couch, giving Darnold a knowing look. “Wouldn’t wanna insult Tommy’s friend, though? His, specifically?”

Darnold tilted his head curiously at Gordon. “Umm, he’s not necessarily your friend, is he...?”

“No, no, it’s just...” Gordon snickered a little. “Y’know, that’s some special consideration for Tommy, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re insinuating, Dr. Freeman, but I’ve decided I have to go right now.” Darnold said seriously, face flushed a little. “Tommy must still be with Josh helping him pack up some of his stuff, if you wanna...”

“Uhh, yeah.” Gordon sighed, dragging himself up to his feet. Darnold waited by the front door as Gordon headed up the stairs to Joshua’s room, where he found Tommy struggling to help Joshua organize some of his things. “Hey, Josh.”

“Dad!” Josh greeted loudly, holding up his stuffed Pikachu.

Kneeling down, Gordon assessed what they already had laid out and packed away before he began helping Tommy fold Joshua’s tiny clothes to put into his little suitcase.

“You excited to stay with uncle Tommy and Darnold?” Gordon asked Joshua with a smile.

Joshua looked doubtfully at Tommy. “Are they uncles?”

“Yeah, I decided that just now.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Listen, Josh, I have the power to decide who is and isn’t your uncle. That’s the kinda freedom I get as your dad.” Gordon said, only half joking.

Tommy smiled brightly, neatly folding one of Joshua’s shirts.

“Are you coming, too?” Joshua asked.

“Uhh—I’ll swing by a couple times, I think, but I gotta get some work done.” Gordon answered as casually as he could manage, sharing a meaningful look with Tommy.

Eventually, Joshua’s things were packed up, and Gordon held Joshua’s hand in his own as they headed down the staircase. At the front door, Darnold smiled down at Joshua as they prepared to leave. Gordon knelt down to meet Joshua’s eye, pushing his hair out of his face and giving him a smile.

“Have fun, alright? Don’t give them too much trouble.” Gordon said gently. He pulled in Joshua for a long hug before letting him go and standing back up. “Umm—thanks, guys.”

“C’mon, Josh.” Darnold said, taking Joshua’s hand and leading him out the front door.

Tommy lingered, though, watching them go for a moment before turning to Gordon to wrap him up in a tight hug. “I’m sorry, Mr. Freeman.”

Gordon snorted a little, wrapping his arms around Tommy. “No, man, I should be the one apologizing.”

“No, I mean...” Tommy let out a small, frustrated breath. “I feel like—I’ve just sort of been, umm...ignoring our problems for a little bit. I should’ve tried to do something with Benry and all this before—before it reached that point.”

“No, dude, that’s not your fault.” Gordon insisted, patting Tommy’s back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make you feel like any of that is your responsibility. I should’ve kept a cooler head last night.”

“What happened last night?” Tommy asked, pulling away to hold Gordon by his shoulders at arm’s length. “I don’t mean you getting mad, I mean the—I mean the table.”

“...I don’t know.” Gordon murmured. “I just—I got angry, and everything felt...weird for a second. Did you feel it? Like...uhhh, like everything just...detached?”

Tommy frowned and shook his head.

“It’s like it just—everything...fuck, I don’t know to explain it.” Gordon went on, struggling to find the words. “Like, if everything in the world is locked, right? We can pick them up and move them, but only with certain rules. The table was locked into its place, and then when I got mad, for a second everything around us unlocked so I could...do that. I don’t know if that makes any sense.”

“Ummm...kind of.” Tommy nodded slowly.

“But—y’know what? As fucking insane as that is, I think I need to take one thing at a time.” Gordon sighed, dragging his palm down his face. “Thanks, Tommy. Sorry about...all of this.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Freeman. I get it.”

“If Josh ends up being too much, you can totally call me.”

Tommy got a fond smile on his face, glancing back towards the door. “I think—it’s probably gonna be fine. I think Darnold really likes kids.” After a brief, awkward pause, Tommy took a step back. “Well, I’m gonna go back home. I think Dr. Coomer and Bubby said they were gonna—uhhh, they were gonna visit you a little bit later today.”

Gordon nodded sheepishly. “Okay. Thanks again, Tommy. Sorry to cause you the trouble.”

“It’s not trouble. You’re my friend, Mr. Freeman, of course I—of course I wanna help you.”

Gordon smiled. “...Thanks, man. That’s cool of you.”

Tommy gave Gordon one last hug before turning to leave, closing the door gently behind him. Gordon let out a deep sigh, running his fingers through his hair and looking out at his living room. He had a lot of work to get to—cleaning his house would be a start, but the task seemed nearly impossible looking at all the clutter. Instead, Gordon shuffled back to his couch and flopped down. A nap would probably do him good, he thought, draping his arm over his eyes and gently drifting off.

****

Gordon opened his eyes, slowly dragging his aching arm off of his face to find a blanket draped over him. He yawned, pushing himself up to sit on the couch. It was still light out, he noted—so he hadn’t lost the whole day. It was time to get his life sorted out, he thought with slightly stronger determination as he stood.

“Yo.”

Gordon was getting really sick of that.

He turned, finding Benry curled up sideways in the armchair close to the couch. “Benry, I thought I fucking told you not to come into my house!” He snapped.

“Yeah, man, but Tommy ‘n Darnold said I couldn’t stay with them.” Benry complained. “You want me on the cold streets, Gordon?”

“You could go to Bubby and Dr. Coomer’s house! And I mean, where you stay isn’t my fucking responsibility!”

“But their house is like, across the street.” Benry groaned, leaning his head back into the arm of the chair. “Besides, they said uhhh, they said we gotta keep an eye on you. So here I am. Keeping an eye on you.”

“Yeah, I’m sure they didn’t say you specifically should watch me.” Gordon argued.

“How would you know? You weren’t there.”

“I mean—no! But like, for all that talk about how much they think we should hear you out, I at least trust they wouldn’t do that to me.” Gordon huffed, plopping back down. “Besides, I don’t need anyone to ‘keep an eye’ on me. I’m a fucking grown man, I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

Benry shrugged. “I dunno, man. Sure seems like you’re doing pretty well for yourself to me.”

“What—really?”

Benry indicated to the house around them. “You got a house. That’s pretty good.”

It was pretty good. Having an entire house that belonged to him, rather than renting a tiny ass apartment, was a massive step up.

“Wanna play some games?” Benry asked, nodding down to the Playstation on the floor.

“No.” Gordon growled, standing up again. “I want you out of my house, Benry.”

Benry sighed, long-suffered and dramatic. “Look, dude. I...uhhhhh...I’ve been thinking.”

Gordon quirked an eyebrow at him, slowly sinking back down into the couch.

“Things’ve been making...a little more sense, outside the game.” Benry continued, pulling his hat down by the flaps over his ears. “Not total sense. But more sense than, like, it used to.”

“...Yeah?”

“I’ve been starting to think about shit. Like, for real.”

“That’s a surprise.”

Benry clutched his chest dramatically. “Ugh, Gordon, that hurts. You’re hurting me so much, man.”

His voice was still so deadpan, but there was something about it; Gordon couldn’t help but laugh a little, even if it was a really stupid moment. Maybe it was just the indulgence in his own shitty jokes that he was rarely rewarded, he thought briefly. A flash of a smile spread across Benry’s face before he turned deadpan again.

“But like, seriously, everything about the game, like...” Benry leaned his head back against the arm of the chair again, staring up at the ceiling for a long moment. “I don’t remember anything from before the game. At all.”

Gordon stared at Benry for a long moment. That familiar haze was settling over his mind at the mention of the game, just like always, and he was moving before he could even think about it. He headed up the stairs, rifling through his things still in boxes before returning to the living room, met by Benry’s curious eyes. Gordon clutched a photo tightly in his hands. One he’d stared at for a long time before moving.

“Uhhh...” Gordon sighed, holding out the photo.

Benry accepted it with surprisingly gentle hands, staring at it carefully. “Who’s this? You got some kinda girlfriend or whatever?” He asked.

Gordon snorted. “No, curb your jealousy, Benry.” He joked before he could think too hard about the consequences of it. “That’s me. Uhh, before T and top surgery and everything.”

Benry looked up at Gordon, comparing the photo to the real deal. Gordon had gotten a brief confused moment too, looking at it for the first time—but he knew the face of his son better than his own pre-T, so that had helped him put the pieces together. It must have been taken pretty soon after he’d given birth to Joshua; he was asleep in a hospital bed, cradling Joshua in his arms.

“I don’t remember this.” Gordon admitted, taking the photo back.

“Well, yeah, you were asleep.”

Gordon laughed, despite himself. “Shut up, man. I meant, like, I should remember that day in general. Everyone remembers the day their child was born, especially the one who gave birth, right? No matter how many painkillers I must’ve been on, I’m sure I would’ve remembered like, anything involving that whole process. Going into labor, going to the—”

“Bro, I don’t wanna hear all that mess.” Benry interrupted.

“Dude, grow up, you owe me this monologue.” Gordon huffed. “But like, I should remember something, right? Anything. But I...I just don’t. And it fucking—it really sucks, knowing I should have all these wonderful memories of my own fucking son, but I don't! And it’s like—it’s alienating! I love him, obviously, he’s my son, but it’s just...it feels like there’s some sort of level of disconnect. You know? Like...me and him aren’t really on the same wavelength that we should be. I don’t remember enough to...pick up wherever I must’ve left off.”

Gordon felt horrible finally voicing that thought, but at the same time, it felt pretty good to get it off his chest. He sighed a little, looking at Benry to gauge his reaction.

Benry frowned, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets. “...Yeah. Tommy’s pretty convinced I know him.”

Gordon sat back down on the couch, watching Benry closely. “...He is?”

Benry nodded. “And I think he’s, like, upset that I don’t remember.”

“...Has he told you how you know each other, at least?”

“Yeah, something-something-science-project or whatever the fuck. I don’t really remember the story.”

“Dude, you should at least remember the story he told you, right?”

Benry got a dark, frustrated look on his face. “I know, dude.”

Gordon stayed silent. After a long moment, Benry’s eyes glossed over for a second, looking over Gordon’s shoulder before returning to his casual, relaxed expression.

“You don’t act like you forgot everything.” Benry pointed out calmly. “You like, remember society shit. What’s up with that?”

“Well—I mean, I know how things work. I remember...the vague idea of things.” Gordon explained. “But I don’t have any specific memories from before...you know. The game started.”

“You just woke up in there.”

“...Yeah.”

Benry nodded slowly. “Me too. Fucked up, right?”

Gordon nodded as well. “Yeah. Fucked up.”

After a long silence, Gordon got up, grabbing a couple bottles of beer from his fridge and returning to the living room. He held one out to Benry. Benry slowly accepted it, and Gordon sat back down, twisting his open.

“Are you ready to be fucking reasonable if I ask you about when we fought?” Gordon asked. “If you’re not, just tell me before I get all worked up again. I’m too tired to handle that right now.”

Benry shrugged, twisting his own beer open and taking a tentative sip. He made a face at it, holding the beer away from him like something old found in the back of the fridge. “Dude, this shit tastes like ass.”

Gordon laughed. “What? Don’t tell me you’ve never had alcohol before.”

“Of course I have, you think I’m a fucking noob?” Benry questioned. “No, beer just sucks.”

“It does not! It’s fine!”

“No, man, and it’s some—it’s some weak shit, too. There’s shit that tastes way better than this and gets the job done way faster.”

“Well, maybe I’m not looking to get shitfaced.” Gordon pointed out, pointedly taking a long sip of his beer. “You didn’t give me an answer though, dude. Are you gonna be normal if I ask you about the game?”

Benry let out a theatrical sigh. “Fiiiiine.”

“Why’d you do it?”

Benry took a sip of his own beer, making a disgusted sound at it before resting it against his stomach. “I keep trying to tell you guys, I don’t know shit. It happened. I kept trying to tell you to turn around, but you wouldn’t! And then we went to Xen, and you just freaked out.”

“You turned huge, dude, how was I supposed to react?” Gordon pointed out.

Benry shrugged.

Gordon sighed a little and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Then what was all that shit about like, Gamestop and Heavenly Sword or whatever?”

“I made it up.”

Gordon gave Benry an unamused look. “Dude.”

“Listen, man, everyone expected me to have this whole thing, everyone had a backstory, I had to make shit up on the fly.” Benry huffed. “It’s about the player, right? Player likes video games. So I talked about video games. Also, I just like video games.”

Gordon looked down at his drink, inspecting the little beads of leftover beer from the last time he’d taken a sip and the condensation dripping down the sides.

“I didn’t make up the dick slip, though.” Benry said with a far too amused grin.

“What—there’s no fucking way my dick was out!” Gordon shouted. “It’s not like a video game model is gonna have a dick, dude!”

“How do you know that? Maybe there was a mod for it. Gordon Freeman cinematic dick mod. It’s equality, bro.”

Again, despite it all, Gordon couldn’t help but laugh. Maybe the insistence on something like this might have made him furious just days before, but he was quickly finding it harder and harder to be quite so angry with him. Maybe he was just that tired, he thought to himself.

“You’re so fucking stupid, man.” Gordon said, still laughing a little. Benry seemed very pleased with himself, grinning back at Gordon whole-heartedly. After a pleasantly quiet moment, Gordon sighed, remembering how they got to this topic in the first place. “So, it happened. You don’t know why, but it did. That’s what you’re saying?”

Benry nodded. “I told you, man. You shot me, so I had to shoot back. That’s like, NPC law, bro, all the guards always shot back, remember? You shot first.”

Gordon let out a long groan.

“Plus, like, y’know. There was no boss. Someone had to be the boss.”

Gordon looked up at Benry, squinting his eyes at him. “What? No boss?”

“Yeah, dude. Would’ve gotten kinda crowded in there, otherwise.” Benry shrugged, then took another long sip of his beer. “I was sorta the easy pick. Y’know? You already hated me. So the game made me the boss.”

Gordon set his beer aside so he could lay down on the couch, dragging a hand down his face. “Fuck, dude. I’m...” Gordon paused to sigh. “...I’m sorry.”

There was a long silence before Benry replied. “...Nah, man. I’m sorry.”

“...I’m still mad.”

Benry didn’t reply to that.

“I just—I’m...glad you apologized. I really am. And I’m sorry the game did that. I just...don’t know. I’m still traumatized from it.” Gordon said, barely thinking his words over. “Even if it’s, like, not entirely your fault, it’s still...you certainly didn’t make it easy up to that point, either. And you didn’t make it easy after. You gotta get better at communicating, man. Really.”

Benry mumbled something Gordon couldn’t hear.

“Huh?” Gordon asked.

“Sorry.” Benry repeated, a little louder this time. “If...uhh...if you want me to go...”

Gordon let out a deep sigh. “...Nah. It’s...fine, I guess.”

“...Why?”

Gordon looked up at Benry, half expecting that to be some attempt to be annoying, but he looked genuinely curious. Gordon laid back down, staring up at the ceiling as he thought for a moment.

“I’m not sure if that’s something I’m ever really gonna get over, but...I guess, like, you and everyone else are the only ones who are ever gonna get what I went through.” Gordon explained tentatively. “The game was fucked up. Everyone’s sorta different now than they were in the game. Everyone was limited to what they were programmed to be, y’know? So...if the game forced you into that role...I’m...willing to give you a second chance after that. But you have to show an effort from now on, and listen when we tell you you hurt us. Alright?”

Benry sang a few orbs of sweet voice.

“Uhh—what’s that mean?” Gordon asked.

“Means I’ll try.”

Gordon let that hang in the air for a minute. Here they were, just talking, apologizing to each other like real people. They were real people, weren’t they? Realer than they had been during the game, at least. It was getting a little easier to process that thought, but it brought up so many more questions.

“Is this real?” Gordon asked quietly.

Either Benry didn’t hear him, or he simply didn’t care to answer.

Neither of them spoke for a little while. Gordon had half a mind to turn on the TV, just for the background noise, but he didn’t quite have the motivation to move. Benry made the move instead, putting in Read Dead Revolver. Gordon turned his head to watch Benry play for a little while.

“Were you the one who gave me the blanket?” Gordon asked suddenly, smirking a little—he was pretty certain he must have, and was completely ready to get on his case about it.

“Huh? No. Dr. Coomer and Bubby came by first.” Benry answered casually.

“Really?”

“Yeah, dude. Left you a note and everything. Look.” Benry pointed vaguely towards the little table behind Gordon’s head as he rested on the arm of the couch.

Gordon turned over, finding a neatly folded note with Dr. Coomer’s beautiful, looped handwriting.

“What, do you wish it was me?” Benry asked with a sly grin.

“What? No.” Gordon huffed as he unfolded the paper. “I was just gonna say it didn’t seem like you.”

“Yeah, right. Gordon wishing his best friend tucked him in.”

“We’re not best friends. I’m gonna throttle you.” Gordon grumbled half-heartedly before he looked over the note carefully.

Gordon,

I hope you have a good nap! I’m sorry we didn’t wake you, I thought it best to let you get some rest. Bubby has an appointment later this afternoon, so we’ll most likely be out when you wake up, but you can call us at any time you need! :) We’ll come by again tomorrow to check on you.

With love, Dr. Coomer and Bubby and Bubby

Bubby’s name was, as Gordon would expect, scratched out with a harsher pen stroke before it was rewritten again, still in Dr. Coomer’s handwriting. Gordon set it aside with a deep sigh, turning back to the TV as Benry’s character clipped out of the map.

“Oh no.” Benry muttered, only a hint of concern in his tone.

Benry managed to get the game back on track, doing completely wild things Gordon would never think to try to do and getting bizarre glitches out of it. Maybe Gordon was just in a shitty mindset, but watching Benry play like that, he couldn’t help but fixate on his own perceived narrative of the player character, acting at the whims of Benry. Desperately trying to break the boundaries of the world and escape, unknowing of the fact that he was in a far more intricate prison than he could ever perceive.

Gordon had never thought about it like that—not in depth, at least. He had refused to think about it, in fact; but it didn’t change the fact that he knew it was the truth of his entire existence in the game. He was a player character. So that only begged the question: how much of his actions were his own, and how much was the player? Who was the player?

Gordon dragged himself up off the couch, flexing the fingers on his left hand into a fist, then out. He could do that, because he’d decided to. Right?

Or had the player only gotten bored of sitting around?

Gordon growled quietly to himself, heading off into the kitchen. He could hear the game go quiet behind him and the shuffling of Benry standing, but he ignored him, pausing once he was in his kitchen. Now what? He wondered. Was he just acting out of frustration, not totally sure of what he was thinking of doing, or was he simply not aware of what the player was controlling him into doing?

Gordon heard one of the chairs at the kitchen table scrape against the floor. Gordon looked behind him, watching Benry plop down and watch him closely.

“What’s your deal? Why’re you following me?” Gordon asked him.

Benry looked him over carefully and shrugged.

“Benry, do you...” Gordon paused to get his thoughts in order. “You can tell I’m the player character.”

Benry nodded.

“Do you know how much of that is like, still true? ” Gordon questioned. “Like, can you tell that I’m just a regular guy after the game, or if there’s still something that makes me...playable?”

Benry opened his mouth, a grin forming on his face, before he suddenly seemed to decide against what he was going to say. His smile fell, and he stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Uhh, I dunno, man. I barely even know what I am, anymore.”

“What sort of sense does it make, that we went from a video game to the real world like that?” Gordon questioned, pacing restlessly in the kitchen. “There’s something wrong. I don’t think...I don’t think we are in the real world. How could that even be possible?”

Benry didn’t have a response to that.

“And—and last night, with the table. That’s proof.” Gordon said, his heart beginning to race as he spoke. “Here. I could do it again, probably.”

“Do you gotta?”

Gordon ignored him, closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath. He placed his hands on the back of another chair at his table, doing his best to get back into that mindset he’d been in last night. With as much force as he could muster, he lifted his hands and slammed them back down on the chair, crying out in pain when he was met with resistance. He opened his eyes again, finding the chair in exactly the same position it had been in before.

“You good?” Benry asked.

“I’m fine.” Gordon growled, rubbing his prosthetic fingers over the palm of his left hand. “But Tommy saw it, though. You all saw it. Right?”

“No.”

“I’m not making it up!” Gordon shouted defensively. “Here, I can still prove it!”

“You don’t have to prove it, dude.” Benry said as Gordon paced around in the kitchen.

“I do!” Gordon argued, rifling through the kitchen in a desperate attempt to find some way to prove his theory. What would he do in a video game that would usually break immersion? He wondered. Something that would absolutely work in the real world, but might provide some comical response in the game.

Gordon picked up a plate and dropped it on the floor.

“Bro!” Benry exclaimed, pressing his palms to his ears.

Gordon stared down at it. In many other games, it might have just bounced slightly, remaining totally intact otherwise. This plate most definitely shattered, though, laying on the floor in several sharp pieces. Gordon immediately pictured unseen seams on the plate, invisible lines where it had been predetermined to break apart. He reached for another plate, moving to the side a little to drop it with a loud crash. This one broke differently, separated into a couple more pieces than the first.

“What are you doing, dude?” Benry questioned.

“What if there’s a few different ways it could break?” Gordon wondered aloud, reaching for another plate.

“You wanna stop that, please?” Benry demanded.

Gordon ignored him, smashing another plate and inspecting the pieces carefully. It was pretty similar to the way the first one broke—but maybe not quite similar enough. He’d have to get a ruler to be totally sure, but for now, he was content to keep smashing more plates. He turned to grab another, and by the time he turned back around, he found Benry standing right in front of him, careful not to be stepping on any ceramic shards. Benry wrenched the plate away from Gordon, setting it hastily on the countertop.

“Please stop doing that, thanks? It’s too fucking loud.” Benry hissed.

“You don’t believe me, though!” Gordon said accusingly. “I have to show you what I’m talking about! I can—I can feel it, I just know it’s not real, but you—”

“I believe you, man!” Benry interrupted. “You literally don’t have to prove it, I already know it’s not real.”

Gordon breathed out in defeat, dropping his arms to his sides. “It’s not real.” He echoed quietly, carefully lowering himself to the floor between plate shards.

Benry sank to the floor as well, brushing pieces of plate away to clear a spot. They sat cross-legged across from each other, staring at the mess Gordon had made in silence.

“How do I know I’m...I’m me?” Gordon asked, leaning back to rest against the cabinets behind him.

“Does it matter?”

“Well, yeah, it matters.” Gordon said, furrowing his brow. “How would it feel to you, if, like—everything you did, you had no idea if it was someone else’s idea? Like nothing you do is actually motivated by your own...your own intent, but it’s all to achieve some goal that you don’t even know about?”

Benry paused for a long, contemplative moment before shrugging.

Gordon let out a bitter laugh. “What if, like—what if all this is just some sort of stupid achievement you can get? ‘Reality shatterer’ or something stupid like that.”

Benry didn’t reply.

Gordon pressed a hand to his face, heaving out an exhausted sigh. “...If none of this is real, then...does that mean Josh isn’t real?”

Benry stayed quiet. They sat there in silence for a long time before boredom began to eat at Gordon, and he slowly pulled himself to his feet, looking out at the sea of broken plate shards between him and Benry.

“I’d better clean this up.” Gordon murmured. Benry shuffled out of the way, allowing Gordon to sweep up the pieces in silence. Once the kitchen was safe again, Gordon sat down at the kitchen table, pinching the bridge of his nose. “...What do we even do about this?”

Benry sat back down as well, one seat away from Gordon. “Huh?”

“This.” Gordon repeated, indicating at the open air around them. “Reality. What do you do when you know nothing is real?”

Benry shrugged.

Gordon sighed in frustration, laying his head down on the table. “You’re not really the best person to talk to about this, are you?”

“Probably not.”

“...Wanna play some video games?”

“Fuck yeah, dude.”

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