Chapter Text
ACT I - TWO OF HEARTS
Click.
A shoe, a mismatched shock, and a pencil.
Click.
His bed, his desk.
Click.
A pair of boots, the other sock. It has stripes.
Click.
The pounding of his bedroom door. No. Wait. That’s not something you see, that’s something you hear.
Gregor sighed, and crossed his room to flip the light switch. He glanced at the clock that sat bedside. 7:20 AM. Great, he thought. He was supposed to be down stairs twenty minutes ago. He swung his door open, mentally bracing himself for the reprimand from his mom.
Instead, it was Lizzie.
“She had to leave early for work,” she offered in place of an explanation. “You have to take me to school.”
His mom didn’t immediately get a job when they first moved to Virginia, opting to stay in to care for their grandma. His dad, thanks to the mix of rest and medicines from the Underland, improved his health in great strides. He picked up teaching again, science at the high school. But as he improved, grandma only worsened. She was bed bound, frail. It was only a few months into living here when she passed.
That was three years ago.
It… it hit hard.
Mom immediately began working again, saying she needed the distraction. Her protectiveness over the family tightened, but to Gregor, it was suffocating, it was drowning.
And he understands, of course he understands.
Back in New York, back before they had their dad back, it was just him. Mom had to work enough to support both him and his two siblings, and the care of grandma. He was the oldest, and it was just him. It was him that had to get his sisters up for school, make sure they were fed, make sure they were safe.
When Boots fell, it was just him. It was him that had to fall after her, to keep her safe as the dangers of the Underland revealed itself to them. He carried her on his back through a war, though a plague, through every danger you can think of, metaphorically and physically.
So yeah, he understands. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel suffocated.
“Gregor? Are you alright?”
His mind snapped to the present. Right. Get Lizzie to school. And himself.
“Huh? Oh yeah. Boots?”
“No, it’s Friday. She doesn’t have school on Friday’s, Julie is coming. Are you alright?” She asked again.
He forced a smile, “Of course I am. Just… woke up a bit late so, yeah.”
She looked contemplative at his answer, but turned around nonetheless. He followed her closely, reaching the kitchen to pack a quick lunch for himself. “You all packed?”
Lizzie raised an eyebrow, and held up a sack, “Beat you to it. One of us has to be responsible around here.”
“Low blow,” he said in jest, “If you’re so responsible, you should be taking yourself to school.”
Lizzie giggled, “You know mom would have a heart attack if she found out I walked by myself.”
“Yeah,” he said, “she would,” he added, quieter.
Lizzie glanced at the clock, 7:30. “Fifteen minute walk to the school, don’t forget you have a meeting with your teacher this morning.”
“Oh my god you’re worse than mom. How do you even know about that? You know what, forget it, I’ll meet you out front.”
She smiled, nodding in understanding.
On the mornings he was responsible for them, and he wasn’t walking Boots to her class, it had become a ritual of sorts to check on her sleeping. To make sure she was there, palpable, alive.
He approached her door, creaked it open, and watched her sleeping form, her breathing rise and fall. He smiled, softly.
She was six now, and much taller. And potty trained. That last bit has been a relief to their whole family.
The sound of the door must have raised her from her sleep, just enough for her to crack open an eye, “Gregor?” She mumbled, voice still meek from the sleep.
“Just checkin’ on you, Boots, go back to sleep. No school for you today.”
“Margaret,” she corrected, still groggy.
His smile faulted, “Right, Margaret. Go back to sleep.”
When she started kindergarten, she grew out of her nickname. She would say, no one else at school has a silly nickname, so she wants to have a serious name. It broke their families heart, just a little, to see her grow up.
Her imagination was still wild, she was still so full of positive energy and a playful nature that can turn everyone’s mood around. He admired that most about her, and he admired it most during their journeys together in the Underland. But her very real memories of those travels became nothing more than a few silly dreams, a few mix-matched names for her drawings. It was almost a relief to him that she didn’t remember anything, even if that meant she lost a few of the good memories too.
He closed the door to her room behind him, and turned to leave the house knowing Lizzie was waiting for him outside. He was almost out when something grazed his legs with an unseemly speed, nearly tripping him. He looked down.
Ares looked up, with a sass in his eyes, “Meow.” And he skidded away in a black blur, to whatever hole he hides himself in.
Gregor shook his head in exasperation, surpassing a smile. They’ve had that cat for about two years now, something his dad thought would be helpful, saying he needed something to keep him busy on his down days.
He didn’t give the cat a name, not at first.
He quickly found that the cat was very independent, only interested in being seen on his own terms. He only wanted to be pet if he started the interaction, and usually it came with a quick playful bite. He was fast, very nimble, and loved a good hunt chasing the rodents found around the house. His dark black fur made him hard to find, especially at night. If it wasn’t for his echolocation, he’d probably have stepped on it by now. He knows Boots has. But he never minds it if it’s her.
After that, the name came easy.
“Finally,” Lizzie said, as he closed their front door.
“Sorry, I woke Boots. And then Ares tried to kill me.”
“Sounds like every morning.”
“And you’re sure Julie is coming?” Julie was mom’s friend from work who would babysit Boots, she was a little… odd, but nice enough.
“Mom talked to her on the phone this morning, she said she’s coming at 7:45. Y’know… like she always does. You sure you’re alright?”
“Yeah… like I said, just disoriented.”
“Mmhm.”
Ignoring her clear disbelief, he continued their walk to school in silence. Green fields, tall trees, far apart houses. It was such a stark contrast to their old walk to school, filled with the bustle of people and dense concrete structures lining the streets. Sometimes, this was nice. The fresh air, the quietness, it was nice. But other times… it was too quiet. The thoughts that ran through his mind can be heard for yards in this quiet landscape, at least, that’s what it felt like. Today, it was one of those days.
He had a nightmare.
They’re not common, or he supposes, not as common anymore. But they happen. And it sucks. Big time.
Waking up from one, it throws off his whole day. His focus was practically nonexistent, and from experience, it’s going to take until he sleeps again to feel right. And all he could do is hope the next night is peaceful so as to not have a repeat of the day. It was growing to be a vicious cycle, wearing him down, year after year. But like he said, it was less common now. So no big deal.
When he does have one, it goes like this; he wakes up, breathing ragged, struggling for air despite the abundance that surrounds him. His heart claws at his chest, trying to escape. His body, beaded in sweat, temping. His mind turns into static, like when you’re flipping through TV channels, but there are none.
He found that practicing echolocation after helps, it’s not a cure, but it helps.
At first he tried to hide this, not the echolocation, but the nightmares. He guesses it was just too obvious though, especially to his dad, who was plagued with the same disease of memories surrounding the Underland. His family tried to help, they really did, but nothing up here can heal wounds from down there. It’s getting better though. He thinks.
Their school grew closer, now in view. He bid his farewells to Lizzie, who attended the middle school next to his high school. Now alone, he entered the secondary hell-hole (the first being the Underland, of course) and made his way to home-room, subconsciously tugging the sleeves to his hoodie further down. He was fifteen now, a sophomore. Despite this being his second year here, he had no sense of belonging to this place.
“Hey, you’re early. For you.” Anthony said, causing him to jump a little.
“Yeah I guess, I have a meeting with Mrs. Jackie.”
“Oooh, you in trouble?”
Was he in trouble?
“Actually… no clue,” he drifted off in thought.
“Well good luck in there,” Anthony chucked.
Gregor didn’t reply, too lost in thought about what this meeting was actually for.
He watched Anthony turn to a nearby group of classmates, getting involved in whatever debate they were having. Anthony was a nice dude, but they were just friends by proxy, really. He had a younger brother who was in Lizzie’s grade, a real nerd and band member, so they hit it off. Anthony would bring his brother over so he can hang with Lizzie, and Gregor and Anthony would get along fine. Recently though, he started to chat with him more at school. For whatever reason. It’s not like he was overflowing with friends, but that’s how he preferred it. Fewer the friends, fewer the questions.
The sound of heels clicking against the floor echoed behind him, “Ah, there you are, mister. My room, now.” Mrs. Jackie pointed towards her class room.
He stiffed a sigh, “Yes Ma’am.”
He followed her inside, taking a seat close enough to the front of her desk.
“I was reviewing your transcripts, from both your middle school and freshman year. Seems like you were involved in the track team, up until you quit partway through freshman year. May I ask why? I know you have two more years of high school, but extracurricular activities look great when applying for college. The year has already started, but with your record, I’m sure the couch would allow you to join.” She looked at him, anticipating his response.
Track. That was his shit. Probably still would be. But he quickly learned once summer hit that freshman year, you can only suffer through track enough times in long sleeves and pants before you actually want to die. Not to mention, it wouldn’t be regulation for the comps. So he had to quit. So what? So what he didn’t want the looks, the questions, and the pity?
He paused, scrambling for a lie, “It just… wasn’t for me,” he settled on.
Wasn’t for him? He almost face palmed right there and then.
His teacher clearly didn’t buy it either, “Wasn’t… for you… I see.” She repeated back, voice laced with disbelief. “You didn’t realize this sooner? You were on the team for years.”
“Well…” He fidgeted, “It’s personal. I um, I have family stuff.”
The ridged lines on Mrs. Jackie’s face deflated, replaced with a look of pity. “Your previous teacher noted you had a tendency to be a bit spacy, for lack of a better word. Our school has a councilor, should you need-”
The attendance bell rang.
Gregor tried to hide his relief as the rest of the class poured in, cutting off his conversation with the teacher. He knew this wasn’t the end of whatever this was, but he revealed in the momentary pause.
The rest of his morning classes droned on. It was routine, second nature.
The lunch bell rang, Gregor grabbed his stuff, and headed toward the upperclassman hall.
His dad taught senior year science and chemistry, one of his dad’s favorite subjects. He remembered when his dad would tell him stories of his time captured by Gnawers, about how he would use his science and chemistry skills to develop technology that could benefit him, but confuse the rats. He taught the Regalian’s how to make a compass using their stones, and some water. He knew his dad omitted the more gruesome parts of his tales, but they were interesting nonetheless.
He usually takes lunch with his dad in his classroom, and he doesn’t care if that constitutes him as a “loser” or whatever they want to call him. His dad was missing from his life for three years, so no, he didn’t care what the others thought.
When he entered the room, his dad looked up from a shuffle of papers scattered across his desk, “Gregor! Hey, how are my kids?”
For the first time since entering this building, he smiled, a real genuine smile. He pulled up a chair to his desk and sat.
“As good as can be, Lizzie was already up and ready of course.”
“Of course,” he laughed, “Your mom said she picked up a shift at the restaurant today, she already gone when you left?”
He nodded, “Lizzie said mom told her Julie was coming,”
“You pack lunch today?”
“Yep,” and he emptied his sack onto the desk, revealing a lime, a craft single, and a ketchup packet. He frowned, and looked up to see his dad pursing his lips into a thin line. “Ok, maybe not. I was kinda in a rush. Woke up late. Just grabbed whatever,” He paused. “I thought I grabbed an orange… they feel the same...”
Another pause.
They erupted in laughter simultaneously.
“That’s alright son,” he choked out between fits of laughter, “I figured. Here, packed an extra,” and he tossed him a sandwich.
“Thanks,” he grabbed it. The commotion died down, and they ate in relative silence.
However, his dad broke it first.
“How’s the echolocation coming along?”
His eyes widened, how did he know? It’s not like it was some big dangerous secret, but any mention of the Underland became sorta taboo, save from the occasional story his dad would pass along. He figured bringing it up would just bring everything back up, and make his mom feel like he never really left everything behind. The thing is, she would be right. And he didn’t want her to be right.
Recognition of his emotions flashed across his dad’s face, changing from curious to concerned, “Don’t act so surprised. I hear the clicking when I'm getting ready to head out, your mom is usually still asleep. I hear it on the same mornings I hear you toss and turn at night.” He added, somberly.
“It… It’s going well. I’ve started to see shapes and patterns on stuff too, not just the outlines of the furniture. Like, before, I could tell if there was a sock on the ground or not. Now, I could tell you if the socks are stripes or polka dots.” He finished the sentence with more confidence than he started, growing more proud of practice now that he was able to tell someone.
His dad rubbed his chin in thought, “Now that’s interesting. I bet that rat friend of ours would be proud to hear it, I certainly am.”
He nearly scoffed, Ripred, be proud of anything he did? Unlikely. But his spine straightened at the mention of his dad’s praise.
The afternoon attendance bell rang, singling lunch was over. Gregor groaned at the thought of attending the rest of his classes, but moved to get up and head for them. Packed up, and ready to leave, his dad stopped him before stepping through the door.
“Hey, about the nightmares, I understand Gregor. If you need to talk about them, I’d understand.”
He looked down, averting his gaze.
“Yeah, yeah I will. Thanks dad, see you tonight.”
He stood in the grass, a field that lays in between the high school and middle school, waiting for Lizzie. Overall, today had been one of his tamer school days, nothing to write home about. Generally he tries to stay out of trouble, his rager sense is always on the back burner, just waiting to be activated and heated up for any “battle” that declares for it. It scares him, gnaws at him, that it’s just sitting there, untamed. With no one here that has the knowledge to teach him how to control it.
A soft playful punch to the back of this shoulder startled him, and he turned to see the perpetrator.
It was Anthony, “Hey dude, my lil’ bro said he’s coming over tonight to practice for the band with Lizzie, so I'll see you later, yeah?”
“Yeah, for sure.” He waved, and as Anthony disappeared, Lizzie appeared.
“Did he tell you Alex will be coming by later?” She asked.
He nodded. “What’s up with that guy anyway?”
They began their return journey back home.
Lizzie looked back to where Anthony had left, brows furrowed, “Who? You mean Anthony?”
“Yeah, I mean, he’s started to track me down at school to chat. And he’s been lingering when he drops Alex off at our place, tryna see what i’m up to. It’s weird.”
Lizzie briefly stopped walking, before hurting back to catch up to Gregor. She released a small, nervous-like giggle, “You mean, like, trying to be your friend?”
“Umm yeah?” He said, like it was obvious the point he was trying to make, “It’s weird.”
“Umm noo, it’s not.” She mock replied, “You know what friends are. You had some back in New York, remember?”
“But that was before.”
The mood sifted, like something dark shadowed over their lighthearted banter. It was silent for a beat.
“But now it’s… now.” She said, “Why not give the friend thing a try again?”
He was skeptical of her optimism, “Are you up to something?”
“...No.”
“You are.”
“Alright, Gregor, you win this one. But it’s nothing sinister, I swear. I just… vouched for you. I overheard him talking to Alex about how he sees you around school, how you always seem closed in, nervous. Friendless. So I piped in, so what? I just said you are cool once you open up. So, maybe he’s just trying to get you to open up.”
Lizzie was just trying to do a nice thing for him, he knows this. So why does he feel an ugly anger rising up? Like she was overstepping, walking over things she cannot understand.
“Well don’t do that again! The only people who can ever understand are miles below this earth, so don’t try that again!”
She went quiet for a second, he heard the birds chirp. The wind blows leaves on the trees. “Sorry.” It was barely a whisper.
And as soon as she said it, he regretted ever saying anything. The pang of guilt struck him deep inside, “No, Lizzie, I’m sorry. I didn’t… It’s fine. Maybe, maybe I could be a little more talkative with Anthony next time I see him.”
She smiled, “I think that would be good.”
For the rest of the walk back home, Lizzie filled the air with talk of how her school day went. Her days were always more eventful, not so much because she was popular or anything, but because she remembers every detail of learning she did that day. And felt like she had to repeat it all to Gregor for whatever reason.
They made it home, and they spotted their mom’s car out front, signaling she was home from work. Lizzie took the lead in running inside, followed by himself. They went their separate ways, Lizzie already repeating everything she told him about school today to mom, while he went to his room to immediately collapse on his bed.
He stared at the ceiling.
His room here was nice, most importantly, cool when it needed to be, and warm when it was important. Not to mention he could fit a bed, dresser, and a desk while still being able to walk around. An improvement from New York, that was certain.
He stared at the ceiling.
He’s stared at his ceiling many times, getting to know every crack, every chip in the paint, every cockroach. No. Not every cockroach, because he doesn't see many of those there. Of course there’s a few, of course there’s bugs, they’re surrounded by trees. And grass. He sat up, reaching for a mason jar nearby. He waited for the cockroach to crawl further down, to a height he could reach. It skittered down, and he scooped it with success. Placing a piece of paper over the jar, he set it down to open the window. He tossed it outside.
Honestly, after everything, he’s not sure if he could kill another cockroach ever again.
The house was lively.
His mom was over the stove cooking dinner, radio on. His dad sat at the table, mumbling over some papers he was grading. Lizzie and her friend Alex sat in her room, blowing on their brass instruments to practice for their band recital. Boots - Maragret - giggling and chasing after the illusive Ares.
And he… just stood there.
Anthony was there too, he supposed, but he was just on his way out.
“Thanks again guys, for watchin’ my brother. Trust me, my family is grateful to not have to hear that band practice of his.”
“Of course!” His mom said, looking up from the stove, “Do you need to head back home? We have so much dinner, you’re welcome to stay!”
“Thanks Mrs. Grace, but I don’t wanna be any trouble.”
His dad piped up, "Nonsense, that way you won't have to come back all this way to pick up Alex.”
Gregpr snapped his head towards his parents, were they in on the whole friend thing too? He looked back toward Anthony, trying to put on the most disdain filled face he could muster.
“I’ll take you up on that offer then, thanks guys!”
“Our pleasure. Dinner won’t be ready for a few minutes, but I’m sure Gregor has something you guys can do.”
He didn’t, actually. Oh they were going to hear it from him after this is all over. He looked at Anthony, who was looking back at him expectantly. His hands nearly balled into fists, what the hell was he supposed to do?
Thankfully, he had an unexpected savoir.
“Hey you! Can you come outside? I wanna play fetch with Ares.” B - Margaret asked.
Anthony looked between them, “Your cat can play fetch?”
“Well, no. It’s more like she throws things in his direction and he chases her, not sure what you would call that.”
“Well I gotta see this.”
“Come on, Boots, let's go outside.”
“Margaret,” She answered, but she was already picking up the agitated Ares and heading outside.
He winced, slightly, “Sorry, Sorry..”
The three of them, Ares in tow, walked outside the house. They were hit with the quiet and calmness it offered as opposed to the chaos that was now inside.
Margaret and Ares began their little game of “fetch” while he and Anthony watched from the sidelines.
He felt awkward, he didn’t know what to even talk about.
Sensing the silence becoming uncomfortable, Anthony broke it first, “So what did the teach want to talk with you about this morning?”
He scratched the back of his neck, unsure how to go about his answer, “She just wanted to talk me into extracurriculars. Tried to get me to rejoin track. But I told her I was just too busy,” He added that last part quickly, god forbid he needed to try and give excuses again.
“No way! You did track too? I used to, but I feel ya on busy. My grades started to slip so when I started high school I never bothered with it again. You ever still practice?”
“Nah, not really.”
“Yeah me neither. We should see who’s still got it though. Hmm…” He looked around. “How ‘bout this, that tree over there, first to touch wins?”
What the hell, he thought, whatever to make this night pass faster, “Sure, you’re on.”
They got into position, and they counted down. On the mark, they set off. The goal post was a large oak tree that stood just before their neighbor’s house, hard to miss. Within Seconds, Gregor’s adrenaline kicked in, not the rager adrenaline, but the good kind. There was nothing in his peripheral vision except the blur of scenery passing by, and what lie ahead was only his goal. His legs carried him fast, feet feeling like they were barely grazing the ground. Just as quickly as it began, it was nearing the end. He touched the tree. The world around him came back into focus, and he looked to his left, Anthony’s hand was stretched out, fingers touching the tree as well.
Anthony spoke first, “Looks like this one was a tie.” His eyes narrowed to a different area, “How about a rematch? To that tree over there, with the crazy looking branch?”
He nodded in agreement.
They continued like this for a few minutes, each having a win or loss. Eventually, their stamina diminished, and they were pausing for a break. He was catching his breath when Ares strolled up to him, meowing loud and scratchy.
“What’s up?” He asked the cat, knowing it can’t answer.
Ares jumped up on his hind legs, using him as a scratching post, but his scream-like meows were not letting up.
“He need fed or something?” Anthony asked, gesturing to Ares.
“No… no he was fed.” He looked at the cat.
He looked at the yard.
If Ares wasn’t chasing…
“Margaret?” He yelled, “Boots?”
He looked around, no answer.
His breathing grew more rapid, “Boots? Do you see her?”
Sensing his panic, Anthony aided in his search, “I’ll check this way, you go that way. Don’t worry man, she just probably went around the house or something.”
He nodded, but he wasn’t so sure. His pace quickened, but so did his heart rate, “Boots!”
Nothing. He felt light headed. “Margaret?”
He searched the entire surroundings, and met back up with Anthony, “Anything?”
He shook his head, looking nervous himself, “Listen, let’s just get your parents, they can help us look, she couldn’t have gone far, we just saw her minutes ago.”
His parents. His mom. Oh god, what the hell would his mom do? She was already so on edge… He was panicking now, if he wasn’t already before, he was panicking now. “No… no, my mom…”
His breathing was ragged, his knees weakening. He fell to the floor, “No, she can’t-”
“Hey,” Anthony grabbed him, “Hey, it’s going to be alright, I’m going to get your parents, it’ll be alright.”
He didn’t have the strength to stop him.
He heard the commotion of his parents, joined by Lizzie and Alex, coming outside to help. Lizzie, spotting his state, ran towards him. “Gregor, can you hear me?”
He nodded.
“Good, good, listen to my voice.”
He listened.
“Mom and dad are looking, we’ll find her.”
“Hey,” His dad called out, “Over here,”
Lizzie helped him up, and they joined their dad along with their mom, Anthony, and Alex.
What he saw made his heart skip a beat. He grew pale. His ears were ringing at this point.
In front of him was a trail of cockroaches, an absurd amount, crawling in a perfect trail. At the end of the trail, they circled a scroll. A scroll made out of a parchment he hasn’t seen since…
His mom cried out a gasp. Lizzie clutched his hand, squeezing it tight. Anthony and Alex have no idea what they are looking at.
Gregor reached for the scroll.
He opened it.
“They have her.” He closed his eyes, “They have her.”
He felt like he was going to vomit.