Within

6

Warning: This fic contains vore, slash, emotional distress, physical injury, mentions of rape, lots and lots of crying, and is generally for a mature audience. Read at your own discretion.

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6

There was a scream, followed by a loud crash.

"Good evening, Mr. L. You seem to have broken your mirror."

"Go away, Dimentio! I don't wanna fucking deal with you right now!"

"Oh, is something wrong?"

"Fuck off!"

He caught his fist, and noticed it was bleeding.

"Oh dear..."

"Hey, I don't need your pity! Now take a damn hint."

Rrrrip!

"Woah, what are you-"

"Be quiet for one second, would you? Now let me see..."

"Ouch! Don't touch that!"

"Don't be such a baby. Are you going to let me take care of this or not?"

"...Alright, fine..."

"...So, are you going to tell me what's bothering you?"

"Why would I do that? I barely even know you!"

"Ah, but I feel as if I might be able to help..."

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Dimentio was gone when he woke up. There was classical music faintly playing from somewhere in the room. The pain was still bearable, only noticeable if he thought to pay attention to it. He didn't think for a while, enjoying the calm atmosphere of the room.

However, there were several things to address, and he couldn't ignore them forever. First of all, Dimentio's presence was calling back memories of his time as Mr. L. He had been completely conscious, but Nastasia's hypnosis had made his perceptions different. He had known Mario was his brother, but didn't care about that fact at all. He had known that everyone and everything in the universe was going to die, including himself, but hadn't felt a single ounce of concern about it. He had acted so differently, but he knew deep down that the hypnotizing secretary had not created a new person, but had called forth buried pieces of himself, pieces he didn't want to think about. He didn't quite remember that time because he didn't want to. He had all but blocked the memories out.

On the outside, he appeared as a shy, awkward man and nothing more. Inside, he contained all his hatred and loneliness, packing it away into a dark corner of his mind. He was capable of doing terrible things if one day he snapped. Mr. L had made him aware of this. Mario and the Princess were unchanged and unbothered by the stressful adventure, but not him.

He had nightmares every night. They were about various things, but most of them featured Dimentio in them somewhere. He hadn't accepted that a few of these weren't as unpleasant.

He wondered what thing was finally going to destroy his sanity. He had figured it would be Dimentio, but not quite like this, in person. He'd only been able to sleep at night believing he was dead.

And now, he was faced with an unspeakably terrible paradox. Dimentio had hurt him, and now Dimentio was healing him. He'd thought he'd figured out the jester's special brand of insanity, but insane people weren't as self aware as he was. Insane people didn't acknowledge what was wrong with them and begin acting in a completely different way. Or maybe they did. How would he know? He was probably going to develop Stockholm Syndrome or something like that.