Abominations for Solutions

Maybe It'll Be Different

15 Years Later...

Gradient was in his safe haven. His room, or rather, the pocket void he claimed as his own inside the anti-void. He lost himself inside of soft lofi beats fed through large purple headphones, laying on his messy blue and green striped bed, closing his eyes momentarily, resting his gliding electronic pencil down onto his electronic drawing pad. He felt like he was floating. Like everything was ok for now. When really, it wasn't. He was internally terrified.

Why? He had grown yet another tongue last night, the fourth one to be exact. He thought it was around 3 am or something when it happened. The whole scene stuck in his mind so clearly, how he suddenly jolted from his sleep, rushed to the mirror that stood before Error's little couch area, and in the darkness, opened his mouth only to find that yep... another tongue was there. Glowing that fluorescent green, illuminating his face in the dead night darkness of the Antivoid. He had then rushed back to his room, hand over mouth, laying on his back on top of his sheets, crying. Gradient thought about it all night, visions of his entire mouth soon becoming filled with fluorescent green tongues. Soon his whole mouth would be filled with them! And they would choke him out! He couldn't breathe! He would die!

It was ok, it was ok...

Gradient now focused on slowing his breathing, hugging the thick brown scarf which wrapped around his neck closer towards his body. The thing always comforted him, but yet he had no clue where it came from. The scarf's comfort wasn't permanent, he knew that... what he really wanted was to tell someone about the tongue thing. Not to mention the glitches too... Those were especially embarrassing. He began to experience frequent episodes of immobility, or "crashes" as he liked to call them. When did they start? About a few months ago? He didn't keep track of them exactly, he only knew that they seemed to happen whenever he was upset or right before he was... well. He didn't want to think about that.

But Gradient was ever so grateful that no one's ever seen the glitches happen. Somehow not telling anyone brought him some sort of security but at the same time, an aching loneliness and an even worse uncertainty. Did he want to trade his embarrassment or reassurance? Anyway, Gradient so badly wanted Paperjam to come for him, thinking about this alone made everything worse.

Or maybe... Gradient could tell him. It was a stupid hopeful thought. But Gradient knew he was a stupid and hopeful skeleton.

Gradient opened his eyes, realizing that his small hands began to shake a bit, the pen sliding out from between his fingers. His chest expanded with a sigh as he removed the headphones and the otherworldly musical beats that accompanied it. Everything was static and silent now. The white walls encasing his room accumulated PJ's drawings throughout the years, and that was basically all that was there. Well, except for a green tinted wooden desk PJ made for him once he started to harness his powers. Blank sheets of paper piled up there, but Gradient never used the things since he was more of the digital type. He sighed again and pushed up his glasses for comfort. His desperation began to overpower the fear that coursed through his bones, forcing him onto his feet. Gradient peeked below his bed, retrieving the two bars of chocolate that he accidentally stole from some red guy two nights before while sticking his hand into a strange opening within his room. He gave them to PJ though because his stomach was acting up at that point.

Gradient's mind flooded with strange compassion for a fleeting moment as he stuffed the two bars into his coat pocket. The horrible adrenaline and awkwardness soon regained dominance though. Nothing good seemed to stay for him.

Finally departing his room with a sigh, Gradient rounded a white bend soundlessly, standing before oblivion. Nothing but openness existed within the Anti-Void, the "home" that he never would have selected if it were the last place intact. And off within the gaping distance he saw a black and red figure slouched on a little bean bag couch, a slipper suspended by his propped up leg. Gradient rummaged his mind and rehearsed what he might say, yet each line sounded stupider than the last.