Chapter Text
“If that’s how you feel, why didn’t you tell him?”
Four hours.
Four long, grueling, painful hours.
Four long, grueling, painful hours of non-stop driving, on not even a single wink of sleep, using gas he couldn’t even afford to replace, without knowing how he’d even get back home…
Four long- Oh god, what was he doing?
Each passing streetlight felt like a bad omen, shining bright as the sun hadn’t even managed to peek over the horizon yet. It was barely even five in the morning, and there was little more that Andrew wanted than to be back home, to be back in his crappy bed that was probably worth less than it would cost to haul out, but, well, it was already a bit too late to do that anymore. There was barely any gas in his car at this point, and it would cost more than he had just barely remembered to shove in his pockets on the way out the door to fill it up enough to return.
It was, admittedly, a terrifying question he was ignoring a little too much, a thought he was refusing to let himself dwell on until after… whatever all this even was played out. He was already on the verge of losing his mind, on a spiral ever since, of course, about four hours ago. He didn’t need to also stress himself out by focusing on such unimportant questions like how he was going to get back home with who knows how much he had on him. He would just… he would… no, no, just take another sip of that coffee, don’t even think about it right now… and don’t even think about trying to not think about it!
He grabbed the dented cup with one hand, having to tug it out as it was forcibly wedged into a too-small cup holder to make it stay put, bringing it up to his lips and, ugh, forcing himself to drink it down despite its awful taste. He hated coffee, even when it wasn’t just some cheap trash from a fast food drive-through like this one. It always just ended up making him more anxious, the sound of his own heart impossibly loud and beating too fast to feel right, but it’s not like he could just stop drinking it now of all times. Once again, it was barely five in the morning and he’s been driving for nearly four hours now. Sleep wasn’t exactly something he got last night, or most nights, really. Sure, he had a brief bit of respite in his shitty sleeping habits when he first moved in that apartment, but after all of that went down, it went back to being as awful as always. Staying up late was simply the norm for most of his life, although it hadn’t really bit him in the ass this much before.
Had his foot not currently been in use to, well, drive, it’d be quickly tapping due to the fear in him, the feeling that made his chest hurt and almost made him start crying. He couldn’t cry, not now though, not unless he wanted to risk crashing the car, but… Ivan didn’t write like that, not once nor ever. He was a stickler for perfect grammar and making things as great as they could be, a man who would have a heart attack at a single misspelling or grammar error in the middle of a hundred thousand words. The Ivan he knew before he left would probably puke if he saw something as incoherently written as the messages he was sent! Would probably have a heart attack if you ever implied it was his words! He wouldn’t be so paranoid had Ivan messaged him again after that… but the moment he responded, did what he probably shouldn’t have, what everyone sane normal person would yell at him for doing, there hadn’t been a single response. Not one, not even one word after being spammed with messages for nearly three months straight ever since last night…
…
Or… early morning?
Oh it didn’t even matter, what mattered is the person so desperate to get a response from him, sent so many angry messages as well as ones filled with claims of doubt and sorry as well as some that were outright threats had gone radio silent right when he should’ve gotten directly what he wanted. It was hanging over his neck like a guillotine, what the hell did he even mean by them?! “Couldn’t finish the job-“ what job!? Did Ivan do something, or was planning on doing something?! Something he couldn’t take back, something that would make it so when he opened that apartment door, all he would see is-!
There was angry honking behind him. Right, light just went green, needed to focus on the road instead of all that… but still, did he make a mistake leaving so soon? Leaving when he did without warning, out of the blue the first time around and then saying he’d never return when he came back after Ivan leaked his game?
…
No, no he didn’t, couldn’t, can’t forget why he had even left in the first place, how awful it had become. The restless nights of being woken up so early in the morning, the constant fighting that left him retreating into the bathroom, the way Ivan’s gaze slowly became so crazed as time progress and the worrying fixation he got with that axe on the wall (who even keeps a fire axe of all things up on display!? For a man with barely anything in his apartment why is that something he even has!?). Sure, leaving when he did probably hurt Ivan… hurt him so greatly right when it was obvious there was something deeply wrong with him… when he spent almost all of his free time with Andrew and barely seemed to have anyone else in his life as he leaned onto him for constant comfort… but what about him?!
Even now, the mere thought of walking back into that building, going up that elevator and all the way to the door back to what had been his personal hell was making him tremble. His hands were starting to sting from how hard he was gripping the steering wheel as he imagined his hand on that doorknob instead. Ivan was meant to be his friend! Someone he could depend on no matter what happened and now? He couldn’t even picture himself back in that apartment without feeling like a scared little kid all over again, like that child he thought he had grown past from hiding away whenever his parents were back home… and yet, despite all that…
He just couldn’t get the image out of his head, the way Ivan had cowered beneath him that day, the feeling of blood on his fist that had come pouring from their nose when he punched them. Ivan had crawled away until he had been back up against the wall and shaking, barely able to speak, looking back at him with a vulnerable expression on his face he’s never seen on them before, like he was looking not at someone who had once been his friend but instead a monster about to tear at his throat. He had never… he never gave Ivan a reason to be so scared of him before, right? It was one punch, one little relapse and nothing more, so why was he so scared?! It’s been so long since anyone looked at him like that, it reminded him of when he was forced to scrounge around when he was younger, fighting other children to steal what pocket change they had to afford scraps given he wasn’t gonna be fed by just relying on his parents. The feeling was disgusting, he had sworn to himself that he would never lay his hands on another in such a way outside of maybe self-defense, but then he did just that to Ivan like it was his second nature to be violent. It made him feel vile to use his hands on the person he had cared for most, the person that… that he…
Ugh, now he just felt sick again.
Almost missing his turn, he drove carefully and parked in the spot closest to the building (just in case…), reserved for people who lived there. Not that such a rule was enforced, of course, technically Andrew lived there illegally, never once put on any sort of lease, or if he had been Ivan never told him and yet not once did anyone ever do anything about him parking there. In hindsight, this whole place was a bunch of red flags, he’d never get why Ivan willingly stayed here, it’s not like he couldn’t afford better.
God, he really hated this place though.
It really was so dark and dreary even before it became so associated with such violent memories, just a sad, old, and borderline rotting relic of the past. It had probably once been a nice place, the remnants of chipped paint on the walls and falling apart decor gave the look that this was once a building someone had actually been proud of. Perhaps this place used to house a closely knit community, in fact, a plethora of people who all knew each other and lived as one giant family all working to make it to the next day and supporting one another. Regardless of if that pleasant thought was true or not thought, it barely mattered as it certainly wasn’t true anymore.
At best if you were lucky (or unlucky), you’d find a person or two in the hallways, traveling to and from the place. More often though they’re either be no one at all, or someone you clearly didn’t want to be around. He knew from experience most people living here were lowlifes, they’ve tried to pickpocket him more times then he could count even though he barely had anything to pickpocket to begin with. He only managed to keep himself from getting picked clean from experience with these types of people growing up, he used to be like them after all.
Taking one last deep breath to steady himself as best as he possibly could, he pried his fingers from the steering wheel (half-surprised there weren't indents from how hard he was gripping it) and quickly pocketed his keys. He also made sure to double check his locks and windows, and to place anything, literally ANYTHING that might look appealing into his glovebox or as far back underneath the car seat as possible, he didn’t need a repeat of his past mistakes. He knew from experience that when people were desperate, it was basically asking to be robbed if you left something just barely valuable enough to be worth taking out for all to see, and the last thing he needed was to see his window smashed and the insides of his car soaked because it also happened to rain. He should probably triple check, maybe check a fourth time, or a fifth, or a-
He needed to stop stalling.
Trying to ignore the dread that was crawling up his spine and trying to burrow in it like some sort of worm, the walk just to get inside the building felt three times as it used to. At the very least, he found himself alone in the barebone foyer so no one had to see him, as he imagined he probably looked ill right now. There was actually almost nothing here at all, just a simple hallway with cracked tile floors and dull walls, the only thing of note being the elevator and a little side area with an empty bookshelf and desk. Had this been a better place, there'd probably be someone sitting there, a worker to check residential IDs to stop weirdos, strangers, and people like Andrew from entering. Not even once though had there ever been an employee there, and the dust implied that it wasn’t just a case of Andrew only walking by when they were absent, not that it was exactly a surprise with how everything was left to rot around here. It was something he had been thankful for when he had moved in, since of course he wasn’t on the lease so nobody around also meant nobody to catch him, but now it was just so sad in retrospect. This place was clearly on a downward spiral and he wouldn’t be surprised if it got condemned soon… he wondered where Ivan would go then…
Shaking his head a little, Andrew reached into his pocket and pulled out his keycard for the elevator, suddenly thankful he never tossed the thing even when he should’ve. He had always intended to come back at some point, not to give forgiveness and certainly not to potentially have to ask for it back, but instead to sneak in and steal away the rest of his possessions when Ivan was out. Living so far away though put a dent in those plans, it was hard to figure out and coordinate when someone would be out of their apartment when A, you had no communication with them, B, you had no idea what their daily schedule was or what they were doing, C, you didn’t even know if they still HAD your stuff or threw it out because they were pissed at you, and so on and so on. At the end of the day, the plans to get back what was left behind never happened and it was easier to just give up and leave that computer behind than confront the other to demand them back. Still though, he never really acknowledged that he was obviously never gonna end up going back and so it sat on his desk, face down so he wouldn’t have to look at Ivan’s face on it, since it was just a duplicate of his he got by lying and saying he lost his original one.
For a split second, he was almost ‘worried’ it wouldn’t work, that Ivan did something to brick it somehow so he could leave and say he tried and never think about this again, but instead it beeped and opened up for him. The elevator was anything but quiet as it showed its age, but once the doors opened and Andrew entered, it was actually… oddly tranquil in the elevator despite the rumblings and his last memories of this place, generic elevator music in the air as it slowly traveled upwards. It was oddly… well-kept compared to the rest of this place, probably the result of some kind soul who lived on a different floor tidying it up a little. It was easy to imagine he was literally anywhere else right now. He wasn’t in the apartment complex his former friend was in right now, no, no he was just in the elevator for a fancy little place he was checking out because the rent was cheap, the floors nicely mopped and cared for as it was owned by an older couple just hoping to make some extra money. The tiles had some polish on them, and the wallpapers were cheap yet new, giving the place some fresh life to it. Yes, it was all so peaceful…
And then the doors opened and reality rammed its head between them, not fond of being ignored. Instead of such a nice place, instead he got dirty wallpapers that were probably from the sixties that were probably outdated even back then, with flicking lights on their last life and an ominous elevator access door at the end that glowed an ominous red.
He could already see it, the door right next to the rooftop access, the entrance to hell. He’s been in too many fights, had guns pointed at him and ready to shoot just over stealing a few dollars of change from the wrong person, nearly got hit by a car once because he was distracted crossing the road but no other moment had him wanting to run more than now. He wanted so desperately to turn back into that safety of the elevator and disassociate, go back into the empty lobby downstairs and into his car even if he saw it robbed, but no. He came this far, drove four hours for this, four fucking hours with no sleep! He’s gone too far, he’s beyond the point of doing the smart thing so why not do something else he’ll probably regret, even if this is probably going to blow up in his face… he might as well try to make it worth it and get that computer back if only to feed that urge to create something in his mind to make it go away.
Yeah, yeah! Don’t think about Ivan, just be here to get that computer!
Assuming, of course, Ivan didn’t smash it by now… hah, what was he even worried about!? Those messages from last night? You could already see it coming, just some weird, fucked up Ivan thing trying to guilt-trip, nothing serious! You’d go in there, get laughed right in your face for being concerned (and get wormed up to, own hands around the neck choking and choking and choking and-), and then you can just demand your property back and leave! Oh, so worried for nothing!
Fuck, he felt like an idiot now, so anxious over what was probably just going to be nothing. Ivan will probably just yell at him or force him to stay, maybe try to get back pay or whatever it was called for staying with him for so long, both of which he’ll just ignore. Yes, it’ll be… painful, to say the least, especially to see him so upset as he’ll probably end up being, but there’s little to be done about it. It’s not his problem! Yes, just walk up to that door, and stop stalling for fucks sale stop stalling, go and knock and-!
…
He froze the second his fist hit the door, no resistance being met as it instead just… opened?
Why did… shouldn’t this be…
Why was Ivan’s apartment door left open?
Was he… inside? Did he walk off to the roof like he just tended to do sometimes to sit out there and forget to close this? Should he just leave and pretend he was never here, or does he go inside or to roof access to find him? He couldn’t see the other from a peek inside the darkness that stood before him… it wasn’t too late to turn back and run. He didn’t really need that computer, did he?
No, just gotta keep pushing forward, too late to turn back now, can’t forget that just because he wanted to be scared.
Slowly, like there was a risk Ivan might jump out at him like a rabid animal, he pushed open the door all the way, narrowing his eyes as he considered flicking on the light switch but left it be, flinching like he got hit when he entered and saw the sight before him. Somehow, Ivan’s apartment had managed to get worse… by a lot.
He didn’t even know it was possible for such a place to even get worse, but somehow the place seemed almost peaceful and homey in his memories compared to the state it was now. A concerningly high amount of holes lined the walls like they’ve been struck by something repeatedly… not blunt or circular like he simply punched them but sharp, angular, like lines from a sharp object.. as trash and dirty clothes were strung about nearly everywhere like Ivan forgot was a trash can or clothes hamper was. Ivan was never THAT tidy, when Andrew moved in he always had a habit of just leaving things around randomly or waiting until things were overflowing to clean, but this? It’s like he just gave up on it entirely, or even was making a habit of being as messy as possible. That’s not even to mention the alarming stains here and there, old copper brown while some were a bit more red, obviously being blood, which begged the question, what the hell happened?!
He always knew there was something up with Ivan, that he was a liar whenever Andrew had tried to push him in his more frazzled moments and he’d snap back he was fine, but this?! This was something straight out of his nightmares, or a shitty horror movie! The other may have obviously been struggling here and there, but they would never let it get this bad… right? And where the hell was Ivan anyway?! Why was his door left open like he had left, why was this place left to rot with blood stains, and what the hell did he even mean by those messages last night! It was like… it was like… no. No, no no no. The way it seemed like Ivan gave up on this place like there was no reason to keep up cleaning… the messages from last night where Ivan claimed he couldn’t finish something and then the silence after… the blood… he wouldn’t have, couldn’t have-?!
Andrew couldn’t breathe, there were hands around his throat all over again, and his chest suddenly felt like there was a foot pressed against it, trying to crush his ribcage open and stop his lungs from having the space to expand. The way Ivan looked when he came back… when he came back after his game was leaked by him… he already looked shitty then, Were the signs there, did he miss them in his anger? Ivan wouldn’t have spiraled that fast, right?! He was- he was always clearly unwell, in hindsight right? But he wouldn’t have tried to… tried to do that because of him leaving, he just couldn’t have!
But… but if he did, if he did spiral that fast, would it have been his fau-
No, no he’s here, he has to be here!
“Ivan, Ivan where are you!”
————————
He wasn’t alone anymore.
Well…
He hasn’t been alone in a long time, but it’s at least felt like he was alone.
He could hear something now, though, something clawing around in his apartment, voice indiscernible than a screech. This nightmarish world around him was twisting, constantly spinning as the edges of his vision were too dark to be normal, and his hands were gripping onto his axe tight enough to hurt as he did his best to ignore the way his heart felt like it was trying to burst out of his chest.
It was still there, staring, watching him. It hadn’t moved an inch ever since he struck it down and yet… he could just tell it was still alive, somehow just feeling its non-existent eyes on him from behind its grave. It mangled up his arms real bad, his limbs hurting like hell as they were covered in lots of marks and scratches. Most of them have scabbed already and stopped bleeding, but that didn’t stop how much they stung, especially when he would shift and accidentally rub them against anything. He needed to bandage them, he knew he had medical supplies in the bathroom, but he felt like he was glued to the floor, unable to move an inch. What if it followed him, or worse, finished the job with whatever it was trying to do in his absence.
It almost broke it, almost smashed apart that computer . When he first woke back up… an hour ago he thinks, he nearly freaked out at seeing its screen turned off, and how his desperate bloodied attempts at turning it back on by pressing all its keys and buttons did nothing. Words could not describe the relief he had when he finally noticed it had simply been unplugged, the cord seeming to have gotten tugged out at some point, not that pressing the keys and buttons would’ve done anything regardless. The now-stained keyboard was smashed in half, some of its keys missing to who knows where, a detail somehow overlooked in his frenzy, it wouldn’t have done anything even if the computer was plugged in. Still, it had been a rare moment of happiness, of victory, to think the tumor dead and the computer safe… then he heard footsteps in his apartment after… doing nothing for so long? His mind had been drifting a little, but it snapped back easily after hearing voices, and now the Tumor was staring.
These… things, he had no idea what they were or what they haunted them so. This tumor was bad enough, but was there more, more than just it and those other monsters from his dreams? He had assumed this tumor was by itself, it was the only one he saw out there besides that burnt corpse, but did killing it attract more? A second to take over even when the first didn’t even seem to have properly died?
Could he strike it down with his axe too…?
Whatever it was, and his ability to kill it pushed aside, it was walking around and seeming to investigate every little thing based on the footsteps. It didn’t know where he was… he wouldn’t have heard the bathroom door creek open, but it’s not like it mattered much. This apartment was so small, it was only a matter of time until it made its way to the bedroom. What could it want once it finally reached him, to see him suffer? Has he not suffered enough already!?
A quite literal growl escaped him as there was the distinct sound of a wriggling doorknob, a hint of confusion present given the pause before there was harsh knocking as the lock kept them at bay. It was speaking, he thinks, but the words mean nothing as they were distorted into nothing but gibberish. He wouldn’t let it torment him, wouldn’t let it get the best of him. Ivan stands, readjusting that grip on his axe, blade too red. Whatever that thing was, whatever vile beast straight from Hell it was known as, he’d kill it. He’d take its head and force it to feel the pain it inflicted on him tenfold. No more dragging him down, no more of anyone dragging him down! Andrew… sweet Andrew betrayed him, refused to see reason and threw out his scripts! He was probably against him from the start, wanted to dig into his head and ruin everything, and this beast was no different, nobody was different! Not it, not Andrew, not his father and not that tumor! They were all in his way, wanted him to be forgotten like trash, couldn’t they see who he was!?
Cuts on his hand bleeding again from his tight grip, he moved silently towards the door, movements stalking, his heart pounding as adrenaline pulsed. It’d regret coming here, regret trying to torment him, he’s gonna tear it to shreds until it was unrecognizable, until it was nothing at all. One click of that door, one lunge forward and a swing and it’d finally be able to understand who he really was, what Ivan was always meant to-
“You love this, don’t you?”
He flinched so hard he nearly dropped his axe as the tumor’s body slightly shifted, what he could only assume was a head on its cancerous body turning to face him.
“I-, I-, what?”
“You crave this, crave to be the victim, worse off than you really are?”
“I’m not,” he straightened up, readjusting his grip and speaking in hush to not alert the beast outside, “I’m not a victim, what are you on about, if you’re trying to distract me it won’t work,” he lifted the axe again-
“We can see eye to eye on that, you’re no victim, you monster,” the urge to dig this axe into it was growing again, “but you want to be, want to be forced to cower. It’s so, so much easier to pretend you stand tall when the water only goes up to your knees, isn’t it? So you can pretend to be worth something?”
“Shut up-“
“So sad, just a moment ago you were a shaking kitten, tucked away in the corner with your tail between your legs yet it took not even a few moments for you to rise, to pretend to be the knight of your own story. How convenient, you really believe that act of yours is real? You cannot truly believe there’s anything to pity within you, do you?”
“I said, shut up.”
“You’re not brave, you’re only good at pretending you need to be brave,” his breath hitched, silence stretching a little too long without an argument, “oh Ivan, we both know this is why it all went down the way it did, what kind of a man can’t even say I lo-“
“I’m warning you-“
“Denial, not blindness. You know what I say is true, that, deep down…” his knuckles gripped tighter, “what you really wanted,” there was something dangerous in his eyes, “you wanted to be-“
“SHUT UP,” Ivan suddenly seemed, voice almost hurting as he hurled the axe, hitting the chair and toppling it over as… it wasn’t there anymore, no, it was just… gone. The seat it was in was as empty as it was nearly any other day, most blood that had been around it missing like it was never there to begin with as Ivan could only stutter out confused noises.
“I-Ivan?! Ivan, are you in there?!”
The world suddenly froze.
That sounded like… but it couldn’t, it couldn’t be who it sounded like, right? This had to be a trick, had to be-
“Ivan, please, you’re scaring me. If you’re in there, just open the door.”
Now he really felt like his heart was about to implode, his breathing shallow as he stumbled backwards, bumping into his desk and nearly falling. There was- there was a monster just right there, where did it go! Where did the tumor go, where did the beast roaming his apartment go, and why was he here?!
This was all in his head, it had to be, he remembered that day too well. He said he would never come back, never return, and he didn’t! The memory haunted his every waking moment, the sight of Andrew walking away, the walk back to his apartment as he felt sick, did actually become sick as he couldn’t even believe it at first, the days starting to blend together soon after as reality kicked in. He wanted nothing more than to run forward, to unlock that door and hear the sounds of forgiveness, but he remembered when he did that last, the repeated forgiveness that was all so fake. This had to be a trick, some way for the world to be screwing him over here again. Andrew wasn’t a liar, it was something he always appreciated, if he said he would never return then he wouldn’t, so why was he here, why now?!
“Go away!” He was yelling, “get the fuck out of here!”
…
It’s what he meant to yell, anyhow, but now words could escape his throat right now, not when air couldn’t even make it in and out consistently. This was fake, faker than any other delusion he’s had and yet he craved it, wanted to embrace it, to be told it would all be ok when it wouldn’t, to believe that one of the few people he’s ever felt close with, as well as his only way of being something people would remember, was gone…
“Ivan…” the voice was soft, almost defeated, terrified, “Ivan, please. I know how things ended last time, know that you probably despise me, but please. If you were to ever do one more thing for me ever again, please, just open the door so I know you’re ok, that you’re not…” he didn’t finish whatever he intended to imply.
Ivan wrapped his arms around himself in some weak way or self-comfort, only if the feeling of his wounds being pressed upon brought more hurt than anything. If he was strong… he’d stop himself from subconsciously walking towards that door, he’d turn around and pick back up that axe and get ready to finish what he started. If he was brave, he’d probably just ignore it and collapse into bed, letting it cry out its attempts at mimicry, not letting him get to him in the slightest, hell, he wouldn’t have gotten himself into this mess to begin with. If he was anyone even the slightest bit better, he’d have not let himself get into this situation to begin with.
…
As someone who was cowardly, he opened the door.