Septiplier One Shots

Isolation

Some sad Danti here

(Anti's P.O.V.)

I lay on the ground, the floor underneath me hurting my shoulder blade but not enough for me to care. I'm only laying on my side, my hands up near my mouth as I stare at the music box playing in front of me, blinking every once and a while. My hands twitch as I ache for something to do, but I just can't bring myself to do anything. 

I'm tired. Not physically, for I'm stuck laying here on a sleepless night, but mentally. I'm so tired of the memories of wonder, only to come back to where I am now. I'm so tired of constantly hearing his voice, and yet he's never here. I'm so tired of just living. And I hate it, because I made a promise. But these sleepless nights are becoming more and more of a regular thing.

I try to sleep, I really do. But I can't because memories and thoughts flood my head like a tidal wave crashing onto shore. The dull green glow of my one original eye lights up the floor in front of me, and the red blood stains on my hands remind me of everything I've done. My unkept hair falls in my face, and memories flood back to when I first got it done this way.

Every single time it's the same damn thing. Every time I try to fall asleep. I feel the ache in my back and the anger seeps in, before I just feel depressed again. The stitches in my neck are rough under my fingertips, and just make me silently cry out into my mind like I cried out into the night when this all happened. 

I just want to sleep. I want the memories to go away, I want the music box to stop playing. But every night I wind it up, and I let it play for hours on end. Just going on, and on, and on, because there's nothing else for me to do but lay here and watch. Sometimes I'll get up and do something, but often times I find myself to upset to do anything productive.

I'm alone. I'm alone in this stupid world that doesn't give a damn about you or the next guy. And I'm sick and tired of being alone, of being stuck in this damn isolation, but there's nothing else for me to do. I have nothing besides the clothes on my back and the music box in front of me. Of course I have other things, and other people (and by that I mean one) but they don't matter.

Jack doesn't care, my other things are few and lack in any sentimental value. All that's left is this goddamn music box.

I hate it. But I love it. It's the last thing I have of him. The last thing he gave me before he decided to betray me, take my eye, slit my throat, and cut off my wings. The last thing he gave me as a friend. And I listen to it every night, and every time I close my eyes all I can see are his eyes. His brown eyes that glow that dull pink, just like mine would glow a dull green. 

Maybe he never did care as much as I thought he did. After all, he was important. He had no reason to fight alongside me like he did, but he did and that's what counts. And that must show that he cared for me... Right? At least some... Right? 

Ah, fuck it. He never cared. If he did, he wouldn't have hurt me. Why did he hurt me? He hurt me so goddamn much, and I wouldn't have even cared about him slitting my throat or taking my wings if it weren't for the fact that he left me.

He left me alone.

I'm isolated.

And that's why I hate him.

But I don't hate him. Not like I say I do. I hate him because he left me alone, yes, but I still wish he were here. I wish we still fought side by side. I wish we still sat on that tree, talking and laughing and wishing. I wish we still flew together through the aisles, racing because we always thought we were faster than the other.

I wish he were here.

I wish he didn't leave me.

I wish I wasn't alone.

I hate that word. Alone. I hate being alone. Being alone is just hurtful, and makes me think, and I hate thinking because then I think about things I don't want to think about. I just want someone. I want someone to care. I want him to care. Is that to much to ask? 

Apparently.

Why was I left in isolation? Why did he leave me like he did? Why did he hurt me like he did? Why does Jack not care? Why am I annoying? Why do I hate everything? Why can I not just sleep?!

"Go to sleep Anti. You haven't slept in three days." I glance over to the window, where I heard the voice, and I see him. 

"You can't tell me what to do." I spit, but I'm honestly to tired to pretend to hate him. He chuckles, walking in from the window and laying down behind me, his wings draping over me. The pink color casts a light in the room. 

"I know I can't. But laying here staring at that music box won't help anyone." He whispers, staring at the music box himself as it continues playing. I put my hands to my face, sighing as I snuggle closer to him. I've been alone so long I don't even care anymore...

"Why did you leave me? Why did you hurt me?" I quietly question and he just hums in response, not giving an answer. But I don't care. I can't care. I'm to tired.

And so as the last notes of the music box play, I sleep.

Dark was gone by morning.