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thatfuckinjester · 2 months

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The Countdown

TW: self hate, slef isolation, harmful thoughts, believing that one's gonna die

there's always been a countdown in his head, since he could remember himself, at first phantom thought that it was the countdown until he would get on someone's nerves too much and wouldn't be able to protect himself.

then he got summoned.

phantom was so sure that that's it, he got released from the timeless countdown. until the first sibling told him about the plans to send him back.

the thing about the topside is, time is different, it isn't liquidy, every second counts. and every second did in fact, was counted.

and then it got to 354600 seconds.

or 5760 minutes.

or 96 hours.

just 4 days.

that was when they got back to the ministry, that's when phantom knew that this time, this countdown is final for him.

his room was empty, it only had a bed that he barely had time to sleep in and a half empty closet, the blinds in the window above his bed were wide open, through which orange rays of sunlight came in and he could see the sunset in all its beauty.

phantom hated how much he loved it.

he left his bag next to his already locked shut door and looked at the sunset a bit more. It was so disgustingly beautiful.

he slammed the blinds closed, couldn't bare the sight of the sky anymore.

he sat down on his bed and sighed before he fell on his back and looked at the celling tiredly.

the tour is over. his life topside ended with it.

at least it seemed like papa would give him a few days to mourn the stars he won't see again.

'would they even miss me?' he thought as he sat up on the bed. 'no, of course not. aether will be back soon, why would they need me?' he, or maybe it was just that little voice in his mind, said back.

and he sighed as he closed his eyes, trying to imagine how it would feel like to be nothing again.

his dreams were full of stars, and maybe that's why he missed the bearly heard knock on his door.

or maybe phantom lost himself between the stars.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

when he woke up, panic possessing his every sense, he didn't know what the time was, just the sense of a new day.

and in those last 259,200 seconds,

those last 4,320 minutes,

those last 72 hours,

those last 3 days, it started to drip, like two clouds that the wind had carried towards each other. like blood from nose.

like phantom's own tears.

it's not like he wasn't already panicked about that, phantom remembers how draining it was to be summoned, he knows how horrible it was. he knows that he won't survive being sent back, that it'll kill him.

he has had way too many panic attacks about it, curled into the tiniest, tightest, saddest little ball in his bunk, his tail wrapped around his middle in some sort of self soothing and the blanket swallowing him whole, sobbing onto his fist, the tears staining his face while the pack sat together, doing whatever, either actually not hearing him or pretending not to.

but that was while he was on tour. while the countdown didn't feel that close, didn't really had a set date, just time that always changed. but now... now it was different. now he only has four more days.

the numbers are so vivid in his mind, phantom thinks it's nicer to count in seconds, four days are way too little, in hours the numbers are double-digit, in minutes they're double of that.

but the seconds are much more, even if they ran down faster. it gives some sort of comfort, like it gives him more time.

not like it helps really, he still paincks, especially when he opens his phone.

he hates it, that little stupid device, the light always annoys him, he never really understood how to use it, nobody truly cared to teach him, they didn't want to talk to him face to face, why would they bother to even send a text?

his hands trembling while he held his phone, it could have been just because he's cold, he's always cold lately it already became comforting, or maybe it's the pain in his, well everything, he doesn't really know, or cares enough about it, he's already doomed anyways, it doesn't really matter if he suffers a bit too.

tapping twice on the screen to light it up, squinting at the too bright light, phantom doesn't even know why he's doing it.

it didn't matter, nothing really matters anymore. nobody cares about him, aether is coming back, he isn't needed. and aurora...

aurora.

maybe it's just stupid, maybe it's just for his own comfort, maybe it was because she asked him to say goodbye, maybe it was for a whole nother reason. maybe.

he still opened her chat, few messages that she sent him, unread for unknown time, the time didn't truly have any more meaning, just those last few days.

'please'

'phantom'

'?'

'be okay'

'you promised.'

he doesn't even know what she's asking, he isn't okay, she knows he doesn't like this stupid phone... maybe she grew tired of him too, maybe she sent them all just to feel better about staying when he can't.

just as he was about to turn it off another message popped up.

'you know how much you mean to us, talk to me? please'

and it all rushed to the front, he typed, regreted it, threw the phone away, his heart beating way too fast, his breathing stuttering until the sob forced itself out of his throat.

phantom cried himself to sleep, not knowing, or caring ,if he actually pressed send to those two words.

it has felt like they were burnt to his skin now, just two simple words that hold way too much weight, just 'i don't'.

he didn't hear the knock that night too, maybe he never will.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

phantom woke up because he couldn't breathe.

all he had left are 172800 seconds,

2880 minutes,

48 hours,

just 2 days.

phantom was on the floor, his head hurts, his chest rising and falling way too fast, legs tangled in his blanket, everything felt upside down.

his face felt dirty, skin itching, hair falling onto his eyes, he could feel his blood in his veins, hear his heartbeat in his ears. maybe he's going crazy, maybe it's just panic that he never truly felt until now, that his time is almost up.

phantom kept laying on the floor.

there's no reason to get up, no reason to even open his eyes, he is doomed anyways, it doesn't really matter if he opens his eyes or no.

and maybe, if he won't move, won't blink, won't breath he will die before they'll drag him out, before he'll be sent back, just to be a little more productive, papa always was nice to him, he shouldn't waste energy for sending him back if phantom can just... be gone by his own body.

and maybe, if he dies on the topside he will turn into stardust. maybe he will be great if that will be his fate.

so he just lays thete, swallowing any and all sobs that threaten to escape. his heartbeat never actually slowing down, his tears always reappearing, his panic is now engraved in his bones.

this night he doesn't miss the first knock, not the second or the third, one after the other.

he just ignores them, it's just his brain playing tricks on him.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

he hasn't slept.

86400 seemed like a big number, but it was just seconds, they pass faster than a blink.

1440 was also a big number, if it wasn't minutes phantom would have felt better with it.

24 wasn't a big number, it was also the age that he died as a human, he didn't like that number at all.

just 1 last day.

phantom's face felt sticky, or maybe he was still crying, he couldn't really tell when he was crying or not anymore.

his legs hurt, like he was walking on shuttered glass, even though he wasn't walking at all.

his hands were shaking, he looked at them, holding them up to his face before letting them fall back to his sides, letting them shake.

phantom doesn't remember much from his time as a human being, and maybe it's better this way, but he wished that human him didn't feel the same way he does on the day he died.

61200 seconds,

1020 minutes,

just 17 hours.

maybe he shouldn't do nothing today, but he couldn't bring himself to get up, his body was aching, it knew that this is it, that's the end, there isn't much time at all.

maybe he should cry some more, sob, yell, he only has 54000 seconds,

900 minutes,

15 hours left.

maybe he should panic, he's going to die, he knows for a fact that he won't survive being sent back, he bearly survived being summoned.

phantom doesn't feel anything, just letting the pain in his body embrace him completely.

the floor was warm beneath him, maybe all of his body heat sipped onto it, he closed his eyes. not sleeping, but not awake. just letting his last seconds, minutes, hours, his last fucking day, slip away from him.

7200 seconds,

120 minutes,

2 hours.

it doesn't feel real.

maybe he's scared, he's pretty sure he let go of all of his feelings though, as a defense mechanism against, well, death.

the seconds ticked by, taking away minutes with them and phantom stood up. slowly, using the wall to support him as his whole body shaked from he doesn't even know or cares to know. his head felt like it was floating before he blinked a few times, clearing his vision a bit.

stumbling out of his room in the dead of night, while everyone else is asleep feels like a crime, something that he'll be punished for, but he's already getting punished for existing so it's okay.

the cold air hit his face like a slap, or maybe getting iced water thrown at him, and suddenly he felt awake, not quite alive but halfway there, he won't allow himself to feel alive so close to his death.

just 3600 seconds,

60 minutes,

one last hour.

he was walking slowly, he knew that, but it was raining and his body, legs especially, were aching and screaming at him to not walk at all, he was scared that he'll fall.

he only had more 3120 seconds, 52 minutes, when he reached the old tree that he saw from his (not his anymore) bedroom window, he doesn't know why he was looking for this tree specifically, there was just something comforting about it.

phantom leaned against the tree, letting his quintessence sip into it until he could feel every branch, every leaf, every one of the tree's roots.

he felt like his body was melting into it before he slowly say down, letting his head lay against the wet tree.

oh, he let out a sad, unaudible, laugh as he realized how little he actually had left.

1320 seconds, 22 minutes.

he doesn't truly knows what's going to happen when the time's up. maybe they're looking for him right now, maybe that's when they'll find him. maybe that's when his body and quintessence will give up on him.

maybe.

he just looks at the stars for now, silent tears falling down his face, a laugh bubbling in his chest, it's not a funny situation but he just wants to laugh at it all.

and as he looks at the stars, he can see the pack's faces in between them, he blinks and they're gone.

and maybe it's okay, he realizes, maybe it's okay if he'll never see the pack again.

if he and aurora will never cross paths again.

if he and swiss won't ever make eye contact again.

if he and dewdrop won't ever look at the same star again.

if he and rain won't ever be in the same room again.

if he and mountain won't ever breath at the same time again.

if he and cumulus won't ever sit at the same table again.

if he and cirrus won't ever look at the same thing again.

if papa won't ever smile at him again.

if he will never meet sunshine, aether and omega.

it's okay if he was never part of the pack, he isn't so sure that he wants to be part of it anymore.