Different (NaJ x reader)

Lollipop Spiral

As an irritating sound rings through your ears at an uncomfortable volume, as a man you know as Paperjam looks over you in concern, mouthing words you are unable to comprehend. As the ringing stops, your tightened chest relaxes as you try to focus on what he's saying, sitting up in your bed. In a sudden moment, your chest tightens again, harder than before and you're almost unable to breathe as you begin to cough and tears run down your face, as you look in horror at the person in front of you. Out of desperation, you cling to PJ's shirt as colors darken and your vision feels as though it will fade, and you attempt to call out to him, but as soon as you open your mouth, you start throwing up flowers by the handful, they're not stopping. They keep going. Blood spills. You can't feel your mouth anymore. Your eyes begin to gravitate closer to the top of your head as you continue to expel bloodied chrysanthemums, in a non-stop chain. You try to grip harder on PJ's shirt, but you can't feel it anymore. You look up to see where he went when you realize that he's gone. Your bed's gone. Everything in your house is gone, as every surface you look at is covered in chrysanthemums. You feel your body weight gravitate to your back as you begin to fall through the bed of flowers. You weakly reach a hand out into the void as you continue to fall. Nothing registers. All that you can think about is what in the world could have happened to cause you to end up in this situation. You close your eyes as tears drop and fall like your body in this formless world as you go through every experience you've had so far.

Something's off though. You can't remember that much. All that you can remember is the experiences since the first day of school last year. It was the day you met him. The one that changed everything about your life. The one that you'd never think would be so close to you as they are now. The guy who's almost become the center of your life. PJ. Everything changed, because of PJ.

But it can't be his fault, right? There's no way it could've been him! He was there almost every day with you! Like at the haunted house, that Halloween party, the hospital visit, the talk that he had in the gym with Ashley, the time he gave me that note in class and we got in trouble for it?- Wait.

When did he have a talk with Ashley..?

Why do I remember something like that? He... He didn't have a talk with Ashley... Did he..? I mean, he might've, but I don't think I was there, so... How do I remember that... That he talked to her about... Some story...? What story...? What was she going on about? Why do I remember this? I wasn't there, I'm sure of it! So why do I rememb-

Upon waking up from the impact, I rub the back of my head as I groan, looking around. It's still void. Great. At least I can stand up now. So, you stand up and pat any flower petals off your clothes. You start walking around and calling out for someone since it seemed like that was the only option you had. You check your phone for any way to do anything and it seems you can only make calls. So, you do. But when you do, you're not met with a recipient, you're met with gurgled garbage noise. You put away your phone and continue calling out. Somewhere in the distance, you see a silhouette of a person crawling up in a ball as they let out a soft cry.

You know where this is headed, so you try to leave, but it seems the child sees you and starts heading over to you, eyes filled with tears. "PLEASE HELP ME!" "L-look kid- I-" "HE'S OUT TO GET ME!" "Wha-" "HE... HE'S HERE FOR ME...!!" The child clings to your arm as they point behind them into the void. "Look kid I... Oh what's the point, you're just gonna continue to bother me. Alright, where is this "he" you keep talking about." You look in the direction the child was pointing at, and it shows another child who merely smiles and waves their hand in hello. They don't look scary, but that's usually how they get you. "... What's so bad about them again?" "HE'S OUT TO GET ME! DON'T YOU GET IT? YOU'VE GOT TO HELP ME!" ... Is this real..? There's no way it is. "Look kid, if you're the real demon, just show yourself. There's no point in keeping it a secret. I've read stories like this." The child looks at you dumbfounded as if it doesn't know what you're talking about. "Oh come on. A random child in need of help in a situation like this? Most of the time in stories this means you're some sort of ghost or demon who needs a vessel or something like that." The child lets go of you and runs off crying to the other child far away. Well... You start to feel bad cause that kid could've actua-

"S̸̹̐ë̷̟́̕è̶̤m̴̱̙͆ṡ̴̡͕͌ ̴̜̅̔ṱ̴͊̂h̷̦̃i̴̺̿ś̶͙͝ ̵̜̘͆̎p̸̜̀̏ȩ̶̠̎r̴͇̔̉s̸͍̉o̵̻͛n̵̪̖͑̂ ̷̲͇͌͝k̷͕̺̏n̴͔̟̈̋õ̵͙̒͜w̷̲͠s̴̞̭̉ ̴̛͈̚t̴̪͇̀͑h̶̖̤̿̽ě̶̠̙i̵̺̒r̷̯̕͠ ̷̱̭̋͠s̸̰̔t̵̖̤̄ų̷̛f̷̰̗̎͘f̵̛̹̩̾!̵̢̪̋" "And there it is." "W̶̭̣̐̐e̴̦̐͆͜l̴̠̣͂l̴̢͑̃,̵̝̫̏̀ ̷̣̂̆s̴̺͙̑i̸̗̒͂n̵͙͊̈́c̸̡͚͂ë̶̡̳́ ̷͍͔͛͒t̴̻͔͋ẖ̸̢̍e̶̢̟͌ ̷̹̟̓s̴͚̭͂͝ẹ̷͔́́c̴̲͘̚r̷̲͉͝e̶̟̗̍̔ț̶̺͐̆ ̷͔̓̃i̷̲̔͐s̷̱̆ ̴̯͝ö̵̝́ů̵̺̪t̴͍̮͌͐,̸͙͝ ̶̧̙̇̑I̵̭̲̊̉ ̶̰̭͋g̴̟͘u̶͈̹̿̕e̵̔͛ͅs̴͔̐s̷̹̳̓ ̵̺̱̐̏Ȋ̴̺̝ ̵̬̾s̵̠̀h̵͔͙̓̋o̴͖̟͆u̸͓̐l̸͙̭͐̽d̸̨̳͛ ̷͕̏̂ǰ̸̣̠ū̸͔̅s̷̝̓̌t̵͍̼͋͘ ̸̲̒̽d̵͈̽́ō̵̟̌ ̷̥̪͗w̵̟͔̑h̵̻̑͂a̵̰͉͂t̴̮̾͘ ̸̖͓̈̉I̵̤̠̅͘ ̶͎̆ẁ̸͍̼a̵̠̹͌ś̵͚̹ ̴̩̔͠m̴͕̂e̴̞̎̅ä̵͓́́ͅn̶̡͂ṯ̴̛ ̵̫̕t̵̞͉͌̔õ̸͎̠.̵̰̽̅"  "And what is that..?"  "Y̷̝͝ỏ̴̝̳͝u̴̬̦̾̑ ̸̪͗n̴̢͊̿e̶̹̠͗e̴̹̲͐͌d̶̗̊̌ ̸̗͗t̵̯̾͜ȯ̷̯̱̏ ̴̦͂͠w̶̘̻͘̚ả̷̩k̶̰͚̓e̷̬̽ ̶̬̿͠u̸͔̓p̶̢̪̅.̵̣̏ ̷͐͘͜Ẃ̶̧̮ą̸͖͐͝k̸̡̞̚e̴͔͌ ̸͎́u̷̻͕͆p̵̤͛.̶͍͔̾͛ ̸͕̃Ẃ̸̭a̶̛̬̥̚ķ̴͍͝͝ē̶̫̈́ ̷̨̙́u̴̳̬̇p̸̙̒͝.̷̩̦͌͠ ̴͖̟͘W̶̞̆̓͜ǎ̶͓͎k̶͙̱̍̀ḛ̷́͊ ̴̨̐́ṷ̷́͜p̸̻̓̋.̵̭̈̌͜ ̵̣̃W̸̜̬͒a̵̘̝͐͠k̶̜̅ę̶̘͛ ̵̤͍̿̏u̴͇͚̍p̷̯̒.̷̰̔ ̴̠͆͛W̴̯͛̒ͅa̴̻͚̐ǩ̴̡ė̵̥̐ ̵̯͍̑u̵̝̍̍p̴͍͉͒͂.̵͚̤̒͝ ̷̪͎̌W̶̨͛̓å̶͖k̵̩͠ĕ̴̗̃ ̶̼̫̓ư̴̩̙̈́p̶̛͖̣͋.̸͙͠ ̵̺̓́W̴̫̊̑a̵͙͉͠k̶̡͙̅̓ḛ̵̉ ̵͔̃ũ̴̼p̶͚̈́͠.̴̜̀̿ ̵̥̐W̴̬̤͑͊ą̶̙̎k̵̨͗̏e̴̤̫̚ ̶̢̾̒u̸͓͊͜p̴̣͐.̶̡̰͝ ̵̘̹̎W̴͈̝̓̕à̷͖̑k̸̜̻̿̾e̸͙̓͠ ̸͙͓̓̕u̴̗͐p̸̛̤̞.̷̹̯͆͝ ̸̼̦̓́Ẃ̶͈͙̚à̴̩̥̈́k̸̜̪̇̇e̶̩͛ ̷̢̟̓ǘ̵͔͝p̸̞̘̐̇.̴͆ͅ ̷̮̩̍͠W̸̪̱̎̐a̷͈̱̽̂k̶̪͝͝ȩ̸̛ ̶͙̾͊u̴̼̒p̵̧̉.̸̣͇͘ ̶͙̝̄W̸̩̋͜ȧ̶̼k̵̨̪̐̂e̶̲̓ ̶̗̬̍͝ū̶̧̮p̵̫̟̂͋.̷͓̦̈́ ̵͔̘̈̆W̸̠͆͠ͅa̴̡͗k̸͈̈́̕ḙ̸͕̇ ̸͖̒͘u̸̙̩̐͋p̸̮͝.̵̞͓̆͠ ̴̟̩̈Ŵ̶̢̯̎a̵͚͂k̶̬̕ẹ̴̛ ̷͖̇u̵̳̽̽͜p̴̧̞͝.̵̺̒ ̷̪́́W̵̡̺͛Ą̸͐͛ͅK̵̥͝Ȩ̶̃̒ ̶͖̥͂͌Ū̴̘͖̋P̴̱̈́!̸̪̰͂̕"

The child runs up to you as their face stretches and they swallow you whole, and you black out once more.

G̵̩̎o̵̻͠o̷̿ͅd̸̩̑ ̸̩̚M̶̘̒o̴͖͛r̸̓͜n̶̩̂ï̷̻n̴̟̏g̴̲̔.̵̜́ ̴͚̄:̸̯͐)̷͕́