TeamFortress2's New Addition

Chapter Forty-Eight

The ceiling stared back at you the following morning. Though you had slept reasonably well, you still couldn't wrap your head around what happened yesterday.

It all happened so fast. I had only just figured out he was Dream Medic. Well, my timing doesn't matter in the event. Maybe he just really needed someone to talk to? It was so weird. I-I didn't expect it, and does it really make up for all the stuff Medic's done to me? Does he even know what he was doing? He seemed pretty damn surprised to hear I was scared of him.

The image of Medic crying enveloped your mind, taking up all of the space within. With an audible grunt you forced it out, not being able to place how you felt. It was like the moment you could finally grasp what your emotions were, they slipped away and taunted you. This time, however, you weren't going to let yourself fill your mind with concerns over someone who was really just insane. Honestly, grow up, Y/n. Focus on your own damn problems for once.

You thrust the covers off of you, but your hand smacked the wall in doing so. You squeaked in shock, and rubbed your wrist in pain. You shook your hand until the pain went away, standing up in your sheep pajamas and shuffling like an old lady over to the bathroom, laughing at yourself for doing so. See? I can occupy myself! No need for any Germans to confuse my life anymore than I've fucked it up! Whoopy!

You placed your hand on the sink countertop, sliding them around the sink, experiencing the sensations for seemingly the first time. So what, I have a sink fetish now? Get it together! With a small, uncontrollable frown, you ripped your hands away and started washing your hands to wash your face. It seems so surreal, as if it was just another dream. Still, the hug felt real. You were washing your face now, allowing the soap to soak into your pores, cleaning them out of the oil and residue of dried tears.

After patting your face dry, you used the toilet and washed your hands again. Streaking over to your closet, you opened its doors, taking one glance at the duffel bag full of clothes from home discarded, forgotten, in the corner. Feeling a need for nostalgia, for a bit of reminiscing, you quelled the urge to grab it. That was barely over a week ago. Except, you felt as if you had changed a lot. Maybe, your friends wouldn't like how you are now. What if they hadn't changed at all? Was it just you? You kicked the duffle bag under your bed.

Soldier's unmistakable sound of rapping his knuckles against the door made you jump slightly.

"CUPCAKE! Get a move on! You have five minutes until we eat without you, and I don't want that to happen!" Soldier yelled excessively through the door frame. Aww, he wants me there! It then dawned on you that he didn't leave. He's waiting for a response?

"Got it, Soldier! I'll be out in two, thank you for caring about me being there!" You called back, laughing at the startled huff you heard outside. Boots clicked away, and true to your word, you had quickly changed and headed out of your room. The bag holding the disks made an uncomfortable thump against your chest with each bouncy step. You slowed down a bit as you made it to the kitchen, having taken off the bag entirely and placed it in your pocket momentarily.

Immediately after stepping in, you felt off. You swept the room with your eyes until you found the source: Engie. The hardhat which usually donned his head was left abandoned at the table, cast away as if it was roughly thrown there. You barely felt a corner of your mouth turn down. That's not right.

You vaguely remember Engie being up late last night, and you now understood that what happened with Medic wasn't a fever dream. If it was a dream, then hearing Engie last night wouldn't have been true, and that's shown with him here. What was he working on? Is he okay? You didn't need to see underneath the goggles to know bags were under his eyes, this was too familiar to you.