Lost Soul

Chapter Twelve

Figuring out how to use a new superpower is difficult. It takes Soul half a dozen AUs to even understand the new rules. For as long as Soul can remember, he's always been pushed and bounced around by whatever force controls him. He has never had a choice before.

Whenever Soul is an AU that happens to do a True reset, or when he dies, he is sent back to that empty room without time or location. A small handful of neighboring AUs will make themselves know to Soul from there. He has the power to choose where he goes now. Five to eight of the closest AUs aren't even a fraction of the thousands of AUs in the Multiverse, but it's still more of a choice then Soul has ever had in the past. The endless genocide timelines have also stopped. When Soul gets lucky in his pick, he lands in a pacifist timeline. The relief of waking up and realizing that no one has to die makes Soul cry in relief every time.

Soul is now also more aware of himself. More grounded. It's easier to push away the memories and emotions that aren't his and focus on what he feels. Soul doesn't particularly want to deal with what he's feeling. Despite the new freedom, Soul welcomes the ignorance that comes with embracing a different identities. Despite everything good that's happening, Soul feels as if he's lost so much more.

Soul's existence has always been devastating lonely. It didn't seem so bad when he knew nothing else. When Soul parades through his AU of the day, the people that are meant to be his friends or family don't see him. They see the loved one that Soul is wearing like a mask. Error was the first person that saw Soul for what and who he was. Error was the first person Soul met outside of his endless genocides as he lived by the script word for word. Thanks to Error, Soul knows that there is something much bigger.

There are plenty of other monster who are aware of the Multiverse. During bouts of awareness, Soul has even considered making himself know to others. Soul always chickens out. What if everyone hates him? From either Error or Dream, Soul picked up more knowledge of what exactly Fresh is: a parasite. Fresh feeds off the bodies of Sanses until they're on the verge of dusting and he has to find a new one. Is Soul any better? Isn't he just another type of parasite? The fact that he's stealing people's lives, even just one day, is slowly degrading Soul's nerves. Why would anyone want him, anyways? Soul doesn't want to replace Error, either.

The Resets pass in a dizzy blur. Soul does his best to lose himself in whatever role he's playing for the day even though it's getting harder and harder to pull off. One day when he's wandering the dark room, Soul pauses when he feels something familiar........

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Groaning, Red slowly sits up on his lumpy mattress as his back protests. A spring or some other piece of junk dug painfully into his lower back and remained doing so all night. No matter how he rolled over, stupid thing always found it's way back. Red rubs at his face tiredly as he glances in the shattered mirror. Soul stares at his red eyes. What color should his eyes even be? Did he ever have his own eyes? No, no, no more thinking. Soul doesn't want to be himself.

Red shakes his head in bleary confusion before standing. He swipes his jacket off the floor and struggles into the sleeves. Boss is out this morning, so Red takes the liberty of taking a shortcut downstairs. The house is abnormally quiet without his bother's loud and commanding presence. Even that stupid dog is absent. Red glances around the empty kitchen before making his way towards the fridge. He pulls out a bottle of mustard from one of the shelves and turns back around to lean against the counter. The house is dead silent again. Red isn't used to the quiet, and becomes slightly uncomfortable. The ding of his phone actually makes Red flinch. He yanks it out oh his jacket pocket and flips it open to see who messaged him. A small smile grows on Red's face as he sees the ID.