See You on the Other Side [Yan!DSMP x Reader]

- CHAPTER 5: Vincent van Gogh

The brush softly goes over the material, colouring the previously white surface with your soul. Every single movement, represents a pat of you. Every part, no matter how small, is important in the big picture, needed for the puzzle to be complete.

The painting itself is one of that of a dying tree. The leaves are falling, black and grey, as if the colour has been sucked out of it. There's a small pig under it, sleeping peacefully, and a grey wall around the bit of grass. The sky is as blue as the wool of a sheep that you can very vaguely remember, with some stars having joined the sun. And one who would look closely, would notice a figure standing in the black window behind the tree. A figure that keeps appearing in every single form of art of yours. Two haloes and a deadly aura.

The entire atelier is empty, the only other people present being in at the improv or in one of the sensory deprivation tanks. However, you're all alone, stuck in an airless space with only your mind active. Some music is softly playing in the background, the singer quietly singing as the voices in your head are louder than hers, leading your hand.

Eventually, however, the door opens, someone interrupting your mindless movements. The person who enters, doesn't say a word, approaching you without announcing his presence, causing you to stop doing what you're doing and listen, immediately alert. Only when he speaks, you feel at ease.

"Shouldn't you be at home today?" Ponk asks, as your previous panic fades away. His question throws you off-guard, that's for certain. Should you? You're pretty sure you don't have to be.

"Wilbur's busy working at home and Dream's needed by him," you answer. "Fundy and Sally are both at the DeMeter building. So, no, I don't think I should be." Ponk simply sighs, shrugging. He too grabs a brush and paint holder, standing next to you as he stares at the white surface that is soon to be transformed into a bit of his own soul. Apparently, you're staring a little too long, as Ponk notices it and lets out a chuckle.

"I heard Sam tried to bring you to jail a few days ago," he then comments, immediately dragging you out of your cycling thoughts. "I've already tried to tell him off, but I'm sure you can understand that he can't discover we know each other." Ponk came here because of his relationship problems. He himself is a very skilled surgeon, although he's also interested in psychology and whatnot. Here at Therman, he is considered to be the therapist, even if this isn't his job. Sure, he's been invited by some of his fellow medics to come and help out at Lemon Tree, but the hospital is still holding onto him and his skill.

Nobody knows of his regular visits to Therman: his therapy. Just like pretty much no one knows of yours. If anyone, especially Sam, were to discover of your familiarity with one another, that could lead to the secret coming out to everyone. That's the last thing either of you want, too.

"Sally has it handled," you shrug, unable to believe that she doesn't. After all, she's been having your back ever since you arrived. She's the reason you're still alive and well, not?

Ponk's face shifts into that of scepticism. "Are you sure? Sally's privilege only goes that far, Y/N. You can't fully depend on her. I understand why you do, but if you truly need her this much, maybe you should wonder whether or not it's a good idea to go to a supportive home for the ill." You don't want to go anywhere that's not familiar to you. You don't know why. Or maybe you do. Whatever it is, though, you know that you can't remember.

"I'll survive." That's why. You fear the unknown more than the familiarity of danger.

Sure, you know how much you could get into trouble with Sam. And you know how much trouble you'd get into were Dream to discover your secret. And of course, you know that living with these people immediately puts you at danger for anyone who considers them to be an enemy, most specifically the Syndicate, but this has never stopped you either. You've been living in a life filled with familiar danger for so long, that you simply cannot handle an unfamiliar situation where you're fully at ease. It's a sad realization to come to, but you can't bother doing anything to change it anymore anyway. You're going to die sooner or later, but you don't believe you'll be able to reach the age of thirty-five. Whether you'll die by your illness or your own hand, you know that it'll happen soon.