Antisepticeye Oneshots

Confrontation (Jack & Anti)

TRIGGER WARNING: There are mentions of self harm and suicide, as well as (some) gore.
Premise: Jack and Anti finally meet for the first time, and it doesn't go so well.

He felt a moment of eerie unfamiliarity. Everything was completely silent. Either that, or he couldn't hear anything for some arbitrary reason. The mocking and cackling of Anti that Jack had become so used to wasn't present either. He'd feel thankful for the much needed silence if it wasn't being blocked out by a nagging empty feeling in his head.

"Jack..." someone spoke in an airy voice, filled with what Jack assumed was contempt. He recognized the voice immediately as his own, and was confused. It didn't take long, however, for his half-unconscious brain to figure who was really talking. It was different this time, and at first he couldn't place why. Then he figured it out: it wasn't in his head this time.

A sense of urgency tugged at him, forcing him to open his eyes and get up from the ground. His reflexes reacted before his brain could comprehend what exactly was jumping at him, and he fled backward, falling back down to the ground. He was unnerved by the psychotic actions of his attacker, and even more so that he was there in front of Jack, staring at him with an immense hatred that could burn holes into him.

Anti went at him again, but, like everything else, his movements were off. Jack looked around, unsure if this was real, or if he was dreaming. He was expecting to wake back up in his kitchen, but everything around him and his opposer was an endless black void.

He looked back at Anti, ready to dodge again. His heart was beating hard against his chest and his mind was racing, looking for a potential escape in the darkness. No, wait.

He was beginning to figure it out, and he could tell Anti was, too. The green-haired man in front of him looked artificial, like he was looking at an image rather than the real thing. Anti wasn't getting closer to Jack, and Jack wasn't able to get away from Anti. Jack's heart wasn't actually beating, his lungs weren't really breathing air, and his hairs weren't standing on end like he assumed they would be. The more he thought about it, the more everything seemed like an imitation.

"Hello," Anti said, but he clearly wasn't trying to be friendly. He got off the 'ground', looking down at Jack. A smile appeared on his face, and Jack got chills down his spine—but, in fact, he really didn't. An imitation, Jack reminded himself. Nothing in this place was real. That didn't mean that Anti wasn't still talking to him him though.

Jack was too in shock to respond, especially to this deranged look-a-like who would probably have no trouble trying to kill him. He noticed his own heavy breaths, but the feeling of inhaling and exhaling would disappear every now and then, which proved to him that it wasn't real.

"Where...?" Jack spoke inaudibly. He wasn't even sure if he could talk. On the other hand, Anti could, but Anti can do a lot of things that Jack can't. "W- what is this?" He stammered, "What happened?"

Anti looked at Jack, not seeming to hear his questions. He crouched down to Jack's level, looking him directly in the eyes. He swiped at Jack, missing him even though they don't seem to be that far apart. Anti said something that Jack couldn't hear, and he could tell that Anti was in thought as he stared straight through him.

"Of course." There was sarcasm in his tone and he chuckled. "Of course... the one time I can finally meet you... and I can't kill you." Anti quickly stood up again, frustrated.

Jack sat unmoving and perturbed, not used to seeing a nearly exact version of him walking around. Anti walked in jagged circles, showing all the signs of how unstable he is, both physically and mentally. Once Anti was facing away from Jack, Jack finally got the courage to get up, and did so cautiously, knowing how easy it is to set off this crazed maniac.