The Celestials [Taegyu]

Chapter 13 ; Fix Everything

song ; we'll never change (txt)

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The first light of morning crept into the room, throwing long shadows on the old walls. Viken stirred, his eyes slowly opening to the soft glow that warmed his face. His head throbbed a bit, a reminder of the emotional rollercoaster that had left him feeling totally wiped out. For a moment, he just lay there, a bit dazed, staring at the ceiling as bits and pieces of last night came back to him. Guilt squeezed his chest again, but it felt different this time—more like a heavy weight in his heart instead of a wild storm ready to take him down.

Viken's gaze drifted to Terry, who was slumped in a nearby chair, his head tilted at an awkward angle. It was clear he hadn't shifted much throughout the night, his hand still loosely clutching the armrest as if ready to offer support if Viken needed it. The sight evoked a strange feeling in Viken—perhaps gratitude or a subtle sense of relief. He swallowed hard and slowly pushed himself upright, careful not to disturb Terry, though the movement was enough to rouse him.

Terry blinked awake, rubbing his eyes as he registered Viken sitting up. A lopsided but sincere smile crept onto his face.

"Hey," Terry mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. "You're awake."

"Yeah," Viken replied softly, his voice raspy. He looked away, fidgeting with his hands in his lap.

Terry stretched, a slight wince escaping him as he felt the stiffness in his neck. "You had me worried last night, you know," he said, his voice light yet tinged with seriousness.

Viken's jaw clenched, and he released a shaky breath.

"I... I didn't mean to—"

"Don't," Terry interjected softly, raising a hand. "You don't need to apologize. Just... talk to me. Please. I'm not going anywhere."

The genuine concern in Terry's voice took Viken by surprise. He hesitated, the burden of his confession from the night before weighing heavily on him once again. Could he really trust Terry with the truth? Would anyone be able to grasp the full extent of what he had done?

"Terry, I..."

Viken began, his voice wavering. He tightened his fists, his nails pressing into his palms as he pushed himself to go on.

"What I said last night... it wasn't just idle talk. It's the truth. I'm the cause of everything—everything that's happened to us."

Terry leaned in, his face a blend of concern and resolve.

"Alright. Then help me understand," he replied, his voice calm.

"I want to know what's going on. Right now, all I see is your pain, and I want to be there for you."

Viken paused, his thoughts swirling with uncertainty. But when he met Terry's gaze—sincere and steadfast—he felt a tiny fissure in the barrier he had constructed around himself. 

Taking a deep breath, Viken began to speak, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I struggle to find the right words, but... everything about our world—about you, Lucien, Cassian, Soule, and Eugene—it all originates from me. I created it. I breathed life into it. And now, it's falling apart, and it's completely my doing."

Terry furrowed his brow, trying to comprehend Viken's revelation. "Are you saying you... made us? Like some kind of god?"

"I'm not a god," Viken replied quickly, shaking his head.

"I'm just... a writer. Or at least, I was. Before all of this, I lived in a different place, in a different life. I constructed this world—this story. I gave each of you your lives, your struggles, your pain. And somehow... I ended up right in the middle of it all."