Michael stumbled. He didn't know where he was. The colors and patterns were brighter than ever, and he was hurt.
How had it gotten here again? That's right.... something with Helen... he- became her? No, he wasn't her anymore... its head spun thinking about it, and something too bright and red dripped onto the floor. It smelled of copper.
He was hurt.
And it needed to get to safety.
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Jon wasn't sleeping. Be it the insomnia, or the nightmares, or the odd sense of foreboding he had- he couldn't sleep- and the only thing he had to do? Think.
Well.
It'd... been a few months since he'd been pulled somewhere else.
He still didn't know where Martin had ended up... but he'd managed to move on. It took a lot of therapy and attempting to find Martin for him to realize.... they were gone. He was somewhere that Jon wasn't. And it still hurt, but... he was okay with it. He had grieved, and his mourning was over- even if he thought of the man sometimes, late at night.
It was one of those nights.
At the moment, he was sitting in his kitchen- staring at nothing in particular. It didn't feel tired after that nightmare... all that could be done was just... pray that he'd get a little sleep.
He adjusted the mug in his hand, quietly sipping the hot cocoa he'd made. He was silent, but thoughts were running through his mind- memories of past, terrifying events zipping through his thoughts, interspersed with memories of Martin. Sitting in silence, dark around him- it was easier to process everything. And so he stayed there- thinking to himself, sipping the sweet hot chocolate.
Until something materialized in the corner of his eye.
A yellow door- color so impossibly bright that it stood out against the dark of the kitchen.
He stood up fast- dizzy from exhaustion- and stumbled over to the utensils to get a knife- he knew that door. And he wasn't going to be taken into those goddamn hallways-
The door opened.
Jon gripped the knife- hands shaking. Helen wasn't going to fucking get him. Not now. Not after he'd made it here. Not after everything that happened.
...And Michael came into view. Barely able to stand from his injuries. There was blood on his face, and his eyes displayed just how dazed and tired it was.
"...What the hell?"
Jon was stunned- staring at Michael, who was now passed out on the floor.
....How was he back? Why was he back? Was this a trick?
No... it couldn't be a trick. Michael hadn't uttered any words, and the door was closed- beginning to melt into the wall- besides, Helen was killed-
And Jon could smell the blood. That sickening, coppery, and faintly sweet smell. He carefully crept towards it- hesitating. Just in case it was a trick.
The first thing he did was flip Michael over- checking to see if he was breathing. He was- and that was.. something. Not a relief- but something. He carefully searched for wounds- all of the injuries were... unnatural. They weren't slashes, or like muscle had been torn away- but more like the lack of skin- a dip in the flesh leaving an open wound. It oozed blood.
Jon felt unnerved and queasy at the sight of it- but quickly cleaned the wounds and bandaged them- there was no was he was taking this to a doctor. Too many questions. Plus, he wasn't going to spend that much money on a doctor's visit for someone who'd almost killed him.
Jon- with quite a bit of struggle, managed to drag Michael to the couch and lay him down in a way that wouldn't be detrimental. Setting the letter he had scribbled down onto Michael's chest, he tiredly assumed that was enough- grabbed the knife off the kitchen counter, and hurried to his room.
Why was Michael here? How was it here? And... why did he even care? It was stupid. He was letting it stay in his home- even though it was dangerous..
...He guessed that it was because it was still human, at least a little.
He didn't have an easy time sleeping, after that.
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WAHOOOO FIRST CHAPTER DONE
