Wake Up; Stay Awake

Please Erase It

WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER:
- Self Harm
- Child abuse/Injury
- References to addiction
- PTSD Terrors/Flashbacks
- Panic attacks
- Suicidal Thoughts

He was somewhere different. He couldn't recognise it, albeit it being ever so familiar. A nostalgic type of fear coursed through him, though he felt disconnected. Like this place wasn't real.

Glancing around in panic and confusion, he could begin to recognise some of his surroundings. The white walls, the occasional wooden parts. The purple stripes that wrapped around every corner, along with the various doors, signs and posters.
Posters of.. advertisements? Promotional stuff?
Every word that was.. well, that was supposed to be there was just..
Blurred lines of nonsense.

Also, he felt smaller? As though he shrunk. One of the few positives he could name was that he had more energy. He didn't feel like he had to sleep anything away, right now. Which was a peaceful change.
But...
This wasn't right. Was it?

He felt his legs carrying him down the hall, just to notice how dimly lit it was. He was unsure if his mind was playing with him, but it also seemed like some lights flickered. The occasional shine that'd bounce off of walls ahead in an arrhythmic pattern seemed like evidence of that.
Everything moved so fast so suddenly, and then he felt a hand tightly wrapped around his. He wasn't walking alone.
Who was with him?
All of this confusion made his head throb. Despite that, he had no urge to go against what was happening. Almost like he was stuck.
His logical thinking melted to the point where that part of his brain was just a thick puddle.

He thought he could hear voices.
Quickly, he turned, blinking.
Only to find himself in a completely different place.

He could feel his feet burying in something soft. A rug?
He looked down to see just that. A blue, fluffy rug. It felt like he was stepping on clouds.
The world remained hazy and blurred, like it was fading away slowly.

For a moment, he felt like his body wasn't his, until he turned around to look behind him.

There stood someone he knew all too well. The red hair with black tints, the rip off sunglasses he'd wear to seem cool. To copy that character from his favourite movie.
There, that boy stood, surrounded by the blurry lavender walls covered in stripes. The walls that were littered in fake posters they'd generated to have, after seeing them on the TV.

He felt himself taking a step forward, beginning to speak. But the words that came out of his mouth came out on their own, like his body was following a script of somesort.

'Red? Do you think he'll be angry?'

The red haired boy in front of him began to chuckle, slicking back his hair with his hand as his laugh grew more and more genuine.

'Oh Blue, definitely.'

He stopped abruptly, then that's when everything started to get concerning.
The room suddenly lost its vibrant light, becoming dull. The walls seemed murkier, the lavender paint chipping. Scratch marks spread across where the blue bed behind him was.
Mephone turned to stare at the marks, his eyebrow raised.
But when he turned back around, the sight made him jump, causing him to stumble backward, losing his footing and falling onto that same blue bed.

His brother stood over him, closer. His hair was soaking wet now- the red barely visible. Those glasses he wore had cracks stretching across them, his face locked in a flat frown. The clothes he wore dripped, soaking into the floorboards below. Some of the drips were black. The tears and ruffles covered him, making him look so beaten.
Red raised a finger, pointing at him.