FOREVER LULLABY. (smg34)

♪THE TRUTH♪

so sorry if it has bad grammar
                           or doesn't make         
                         sense ｡ﾟ(ﾟ'ω'ﾟ)ﾟ｡!!
    TW: grief, swears,
obsession, psychological torture
                                -ENJOY!!!-
    —————————-❾-—————————

SMG3 lay curled up on the floor, trembling in the cold darkness of his café living quarters. His body was weak, still shaking from the confrontation with the twisted, nightmarish form of SMG4. The knife lay abandoned across the room, its blade glinting faintly under the dim light, but it might as well have been miles away.

His mind was spinning, thoughts crashing into each other like waves in a storm. The suffocating presence of SMG4 had been so real, so tangible, but something deep inside him was starting to unravel the threads of this horrifying reality.

As he dragged himself up to sit against the wall, his breath shallow and ragged, the pieces of the nightmare began to fit together in his mind. For weeks, he had seen SMG4's twisted form everywhere—at the café, in the streets, even in the reflection of the mirrors. He had heard the voice, felt the touch, and been tormented by the haunting memories of the day SMG4 died. Every twisted encounter had left him reeling, questioning his sanity, and pushing him to the brink.

But now, something was different. The way SMG4 had spoken to him in that final moment, the way his eyes had flickered with something—affection, darkness, hunger—had sent chills down SMG3's spine. And then it hit him.

SMG4 wasn't just a ghost. He wasn't some malevolent spirit haunting SMG3 out of pure malice.

He was feeding off SMG3.

The revelation hit SMG3 like a tidal wave, forcing him to gasp in shock. His hands gripped his knees tightly, his knuckles white as the realization started to solidify in his mind.

SMG4 had been slowly warping, twisting into a grotesque, monstrous version of himself because of him. Because of SMG3's guilt, his jealousy, his obsession. SMG4's death had been the catalyst, but SMG3's overwhelming emotions had given birth to something far darker—a twisted version of SMG4, kept alive by the very thoughts and feelings that had been tearing SMG3 apart.

The more SMG3 had clung to the guilt of his role in SMG4's death, the more he had let himself fall into despair, and the more the twisted SMG4 had grown. It wasn't SMG4 feeding off him in some supernatural sense; it was SMG3 feeding his own creation, feeding the monster born from his darkest desires.

It was his fault.

SMG3 pressed his hands to his head, shaking violently as the weight of the realization bore down on him. He had been the one to keep SMG4 alive in this twisted, horrible way. He had wanted SMG4 to stay with him, even in death. His loneliness, his jealousy of everyone else who had gotten over SMG4's death, had twisted his memories, his desires, into something monstrous.

The hallucinations, the nightmares—it all made sense now. They were manifestations of his own broken mind, and somehow, some way, he had breathed life into them. SMG4's twisted form had become real because SMG3 had made him real, through his obsession, his yearning to never let SMG4 go.

And now, that obsession had turned into something that wanted to consume him.

The voice echoed in his mind again, soft but chilling: "You promised you'd never leave me."

Tears welled in SMG3's eyes, his breath coming out in choked sobs. His chest ached, his head pounded, and his entire body felt like it was breaking apart. It was all his fault. He had let his own mind destroy him, let his love for SMG4 warp into something so dark, so twisted, that it had taken on a life of its own.

The day SMG4 died, SMG3 had felt like his world had collapsed. They had been close, closer than anyone had ever really understood. SMG3 had always been the rival, the outcast, but SMG4...SMG4 had always been there, even when no one else was. He had promised SMG4 that he would never leave him, and in his own warped way, he had kept that promise by trapping them both in this nightmare.

But the truth was, SMG4 hadn't wanted this. He hadn't wanted this. This was all a product of SMG3's own guilt, a manifestation of his deepest fears and regrets. And now, the monster that had been born from those emotions was trying to drag him down into the darkness for good.

SMG3's breath hitched as another horrifying thought struck him. The twisted version of SMG4 had been growing stronger more real with each passing day. Each encounter, each moment of terror, had only made the creature more solid, more violent. And now, it had begun to physically interact with him. It wasn't just an apparition anymore.

If he didn't stop this...if he didn't find a way to break free from his own mind, from his own guilt, then the twisted SMG4 would fully consume him. It would drag him into the abyss, and there would be no coming back.

But how? How could he fight something that was a part of him?

SMG3's mind raced as he tried to think of a solution. He couldn't just forget SMG4; the memories were too deep, too ingrained in him. But maybe... maybe if he could come to terms with the truth, if he could accept what had happened and let go of the guilt, the jealousy, the obsession, then maybe the twisted SMG4 would lose its power.

Maybe, if he stopped feeding the darkness, it would finally disappear.

But that was easier said than done.

The image of SMG4's smiling face, the real SMG4—the one who had laughed with him, fought with him, cared about him—flashed in SMG3's mind. He had to hold on to that image. He had to remember the truth, the real SMG4, and not let the twisted version take over.

"I'm sorry," SMG3 whispered, his voice trembling as tears streamed down his face. "I'm so fucking sorry."

For the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to mourn, truly mourn, for the SMG4 he had lost. Not the ghost, not the twisted creature that had been haunting him, but the real SMG4—the friend he had loved and failed.

And as the sobs wracked his body, he felt something shift in the air. The oppressive presence that had hung over him, that had been suffocating him for so long, seemed to flicker, waver, like smoke being blown by the wind.

SMG4's twisted form appeared once more, standing at the edge of the room, watching him. But this time, something was different. The figure didn't move closer, didn't speak. It simply stood there, observing, as if waiting for something.

SMG3 wiped his eyes, his breath still shaky but steadier than before. He stared at the twisted SMG4, the creature that had been born from his darkest thoughts.

"I'm letting you go," SMG3 whispered, his voice firm despite the fear that still gripped him. "You're not real. Not anymore."

For a moment, the twisted SMG4's eyes flashed with something—anger? Sadness?—but then, slowly, it began to fade, its form dissolving into the shadows.

As SMG4 disappeared, SMG3 slumped against the wall, exhausted but strangely lighter. He wasn't free yet—he knew that—but for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he felt like there was hope.

He had uncovered the truth.

And now, he had to find a way to survive it.

———CHAPTER NINE: DONE!———

WORD COUNT: 1269

guys this was a pretty serious one but I think some might be getting the concept of this story now 😝😝 sigma sigma on the wall who's the sigmaest of them all? smg4! wait