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sapphirew00my · 11 months

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circadian rhythm

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a little fanfic of my least favorite siblings (affectionate) I made after reawakening my balan hyperfixation. this post was fact checked by real wonderworld residents (my friend's balan fictive beta'd this). also up on ao3 if you're chill like that

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NOTE: biiig major headcanon of mine is that lance ripped their heart out to stop feeling their negativity, and that's why they were unable to be restored to their original self at the end of the game. also lance uses he/they

Time had been passing slowly, it felt like. Perhaps it was because Balan kept staring at the clock.

He wasn't on the Isle of Tims. The Tims didn't seem to like him quite as much anymore. Sitting on one of the other distant islands, floating alone in the expanse of the sky, he could see everything. Including the happiness clock, slowly ticking its way onward. The numbers counted up in a constant, heartbeat-like rhythm. Tick, tock, tick, tock... He idly fiddled with the colorful wildflowers growing in the soft grass around him. Pulling them up, twisting their stems, tugging the petals off and ripping them into bright little pieces. Rinse, repeat. It wasn't like him to be so nervous… but that was pretty much the whole reason why he was here.

He felt changed. He was changing. Physical changes, of course, could simply be disguised, with everyone else being none the wiser as he continued working… but his attempts to help the inhabitants of the Wonderworld were slowing. He was doing practically nothing. He was losing his touch. He had hoped that the people staying longer would perhaps save his feelings some; however, keeping them here for his own selfish reasons had introduced a new feeling called guilt. Everything he tried to save himself, to keep his positivity, almost just seemed to be bringing his fate around faster.

So here he sat, some “maestro of magic”, watching the clock. For he had nothing else left to do with his time.

Tick, tock, tick, tock...

He shredded another petal between his claws. The claws he shouldn’t have. The claws that twisted his once soft and kind hands into those of a monster. And yet, they remain.

"You can sense it too, can't you?"

The voice that spoke up from behind him was quiet, yet it still managed to startle Balan. He turned over his shoulder to see Lance stepping up to meet him, leaving small puddles of black in the wake of each footstep. He usually brought a few negati with him, but today he was alone. It was just the two of them.

"My influence is not what it used to be, you see. Your time is almost up, and soon, mine too." Lance continued, standing at Balan's side and staring at the clock in the distance.

Balan sighed. "I know.”

He turned back to the clock in deep thought. What Lance said, what he meant, made him wince. It wasn't like he hadn't already known. It was just the reality finally setting in. Soon, he would take his final bow, and some new maestro would appear to take his place. To maintain the delicate balance of light and dark… Lance would have to disappear.

Tick, tock…

Balan pulled a bright yellow flower up from the ground beneath him.

"This all came so quick. The thought of it makes me sick," he said, plucking a petal on his last syllable.

"You lasted longer than I did," Lance remarked, still gazing off into the distance. "I'm impressed you held out for so long. Your determination served you well into your swan song."

"Not well enough, you see,” Balan said, opening his palms to highlight how twisted his body had become. He wondered if saying he never wanted to end up like Lance would offend him or not.

"I didn't want to change either, dear," the older brother added. "But it's an unfortunate part of the Wonderworld's cycle, I fear."

The pair descended into an uncomfortable silence as they looked out into the expanse. Balan didn't want there to be silence. He could hear the ticking when there was silence.

Tick, tock…

He tore the yellow petal into shreds and scattered them around his knees with the rest.

"...will you wait with me, brother?"

To Balan, it didn't feel as terrifying with company. Lance didn't give a spoken response, but Balan could hear his brother gently sit down beside him. He managed to pull his eyes away from the clock to look at Lance. In the state he was in now, they looked more like siblings than ever. The other's expression was distant; they almost didn't even look focused on anything.

"Have any advice? If it’s no bother," Balan asked after a moment, to hopefully break the silence between them.

Lance hummed in thought, still not looking at his brother. "I don't think I handled my change well. But to you, I can tell. These-" they started, flicking a couple of the tendrils protruding from their back, "-hurt like you wouldn't believe. That change will be the last that you receive. I was unable to stay conscious for mine; perhaps yours will feel more benign."

Balan shuddered at the idea.

"And when I came to, we were both on the Isle of Tims. Laying in the red flowers with you, I thought to myself; these hadn't been there before…” Lance eyed the small flowers growing beneath the two of them as Balan plucked another. “I believe new flowers grow for each new maestro."

The younger's brows furrowed. Lance's voice was calming, but his words were anything but. He still didn't think he was ready for his sibling to be gone, or for him to have to teach a successor. He stared blankly at the blossom in his hand as his mind swam… but that only brought another silence.

Tick, tock, tick...

"...I do have advice for the distant future, however. I want you to try to keep your heart together."

That got Balan's attention. He turned up from his hands to meet his brother's eyes. It was the first time Lance had looked at him in the conversation. "Keep… my heart?"

"I tore mine out, thousands and thousands of years ago. And shattered it in woe," the older maestro continued, lightly placing one of their hands against their chest. "Your feelings are going to continue getting worse the longer you exist. I thought destroying the source of mine was the only way to ease them, if you get the gist. And that did work… but I could not feel the good things anymore either. Watching you grow and learn, watching the others gather their strength to face their struggles… I felt neither."

Balan turned his eyes back to the ground. "Then… how much of what I know of you isn't just an act?"

"For nearly 1500 of your years, my heart was still well. I felt pride in teaching you, in seeing you excel. You brought light to my heart as long as I had it. I am unable to feel it now, but I know I love you, Balan. I mean it. The lack of feeling is almost worse than the despair. I do not want you to experience it, because I care."

Balan's eyes briefly traveled back over to his sibling sitting next to him, and he cracked a weak smile. He and Lance hadn't spoken much in the past thousands of years. It was nice to know that they did care, somewhere in there.

"I will try, Lance."

The silence was a bit more comfortable now.

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

"I cannot imagine it will be much longer now," Lance said softly, back to staring blankly at the happiness clock.

That horrible pit suddenly opened back up in Balan's stomach. Lance would be gone soon. Everything would change soon. Hesitantly, slowly, he placed his hand on top of his sibling's. Lance had never really been one for touch, and Balan noticed them tense a bit. But Lance turned their hand over and lightly gripped their brother's. Balan squeezed back, a mutual reassurance. They'd stay together as long as they could. Balan knew he wasn't quite ready, and really didn't think Lance was either, but that wouldn't make the clock slow down.

Tick, tock, tick…

It started out as an odd discomfort. Slow, pulsating pain. A racing heart. But suddenly everything hit all at once. A horrible pain burst from Balan's back. He doubled over and cried out as it started. He squeezed Lance's hand tighter, like his life depended on it. It got worse in an instant; each piercing limb felt like it was trying to rip him in half. Deafened in pain, he thought he could hear the other saying something, perhaps a reassurance, perhaps a goodbye, but Balan couldn't make it out over his own agony.

Balan's grip tightened. Lance's grip loosened.

Balan's head was clouding from the pain, and his eyes were blurring from tears, as he discovered when he opened them. He wildly tried grabbing for Lance with his other hand, desperate to not let go. Another searing wave scorched through his back.

Everything hurt. Everything hurt everything hurt everything hurt- he couldn't think- he couldn't breathe- everything hurt it burned it burned it burned it burned it-

Tick, tock.

Balan was lying face down in the grass, with his head comfortably resting in his arms. He felt the ground beneath him, still warm from the sun. He felt the plants tickling at his face. He heard a few Tims gathering around and inquisitively cheeping at him. He almost managed to convince himself it had just been a nightmare, but the newfound weight on his back told him otherwise.

He slowly opened his eyes. Lovely deep purple flowers surrounded him, gracefully waving in the breeze. His fist held a handful of slightly crushed purple petals when he opened it.

It was a new day.

The clock tormented him no longer.

#balan wonderworld #balanposting #lance balan wonderworld #fanfic #do not tag as ship #if you tag as ship I'll replace all the milk in your fridge with elmer's glue

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