BATIM Oneshots ig

"Reunion" Norman x Sammy ⚠☁

The Prophet stared up at the ceiling, unmoving. He was alive, breathing normally. Heart was beating fine. There were injuries on his skin, and he just... didn't move.

Norman rushed in, looking at the music director. Damn was he lucky that he left the scary door open. Seeing the Director by the wall, he sighed in relief and dimmed the light, before it was laced with concern. He didn't even react.

The taller one slid down the wall before closing the sanctuary. He looked to the blonde who was still unresponsive as he chuckled dryly, the sound of static interfering with his voice.

"So this is where you have been disappearing to?" Norman asked in fake amusement, though it sounded like a radio. Surprisingly, the prophet nodded slightly and looked at him. His face was completely neutral except for his eyes, almost wide open. Or as best as it could with no face.

He wanted to unsee that so badly.

Norman sighed, looking at the director. His mask was almost in halves, brought together with tape. They both knew that ink would repair it much better, but somehow Sammy didn't want to. It was strange, as he only ever saw him with the mask. Then again, he only ever saw him inky when he was killed.

"I know you are Sammy, I know you killed me."

The prophet looked at him curiously. The black socket's in his eyes narrowed slightly as he relaxed them. "I'm the prophet. The only one who called me Sammy was a sheep. And I killed many people."

Behind a pane of glass Norman frowned. He was having another lucid episode, he was lucky that even lasted long enough to get him here. The ink was trying to drag him back.

Fishing through his ink stained clothing. He pulled out a small metal rectangle and unpinned it, handing it to the curious prophet.

"Polk," He read out loud as recognition shot through him. Oh! He was the perfect sheep! He came!

"What happened to you?" Norman asked, tilting his head. Then he jerked it the other way, almost as if someone was grabbing his head, before he returned it to normal. He was almost confused. The Prophet, however, dismissed him.

"My lord... didn't approve of my sacrifice. So he abandoned me," He spat out bitterly. But he looked at the dim projector's light and swore he saw a face of pity behind the pane of glass. A ghost of a smile appeared on his face.

"At least you're here, Norman."

Then the prophet's eyes glowed gold.

Startled, Norman turned off his light completely, surprised when he could see almost perfectly fine without it. There must be lights here. No, The Projectionist is the only light, that gave him the advantage! Go back to the dark! Back-

'Shut up,' Norman scolded himself. He didn't get this far to see the prophet.

Turning towards Sammy, he saw that he was holding the nametag and muttering.

"Polk... Norman, I'm free."

He snapped his head towards Norman, who slowly tilted his head. Free? Reaching out an inky hand, he touched the metal projector encasing the taller's head, almost caressing it. Staring dead at the pane of glass, he whispered.

"Shit, what did Ido to you?" Sammy looked at the yellow eyes of the projectionist through the pane as it slowly lit up again, almost like a lightbulb. Then Sammy started to tremble.

Panicked, Norman looked around as Sammy shook and melted, his figure having a hard time staying together. The ink was yelling at him now, telling him to kill the figure made of ink in front of him and take their heart, it forgot about the light a while ago. So he did what any rational person would do.