Work Text:
he had always learned that he should continue to talk to the wall. if he couldn’t speak anymore, he could write. and if he couldn’t write anymore, he could even knock on it. anything to tell the person on the other side that he was there.
one day someone might respond.
but it’s tiring. it’s too tiring.
it’s too tiring to put in so much effort just for one response. and it’s too tiring to work so hard for everything to only end up in vain.
he's just too tired. completely exhausted.
how long had it been since he first began waiting for a response? he didn’t even know anymore. time felt endless.
he had tried counting. he had tried keeping track of the days he'd been stuck in this stupid train.
one. two. a hundred. a thousand. three. four thousand. eight.
for a person who couldn't even tell when the day began or ended, how was he supposed to figure out how long he'd been here?
it could have been months, years, centuries and he wouldn't know. all he knew is that it felt like forever.
and that he'd continue to be stuck here forever.
how long more would he have to wait for a response? if it’s just one measly response does he really have to wait any longer? should he wait? will that response even be worth it? could it even change anything?
demon king of salvation?
if he was made to bestow salvation onto others then what about him? who’ll be the one to save him? when will he be saved from this endless nightmare?
will someone please just save me?…
.
.
.
can someone just pull his heart out from his soul already?
this stupid beating heart — slow as if on the verge of death but fast enough to stay alive — he didn't need it anymore.
hadn’t it been long enough? hadn’t he suffered enough?
he knew he needed to be alive for the worlds in this universe to continue existing, but if he were to die right here and now, wouldn’t that be a happy ending too? dying with his loved ones.
might as well put all of us out of our misery. they don’t need to suffer because of me, and i don’t need to suffer too.
i don’t want to suffer anymore. i’m tired. i’m tired. i’m tired. i’m tired. i’m tired. i’m tired. i’m tired. i’m tired. i’m tired. i’m so tired. please save me already… i’m tired. so tired. tiredtiredtiredtiredtired.
i’m tired of existing.
can someone just put me to sleep for the rest of eternity?
at least asleep, i wouldn’t have to feel anything.
and so he sleeps. he sleeps and he sleeps, and he still continues to sleep.
an endless slumber.
his companions find a new way to save him, but he continues to sleep.
a woman writes a new story with the help of her new-found family, but he continues to sleep.
a man forces his way into space, all just to ask his companion a question, still he continues to sleep.
that same man reads his story over and over again to keep himself alive, to keep himself sane, but he continues to sleep.
he’s still tired.
he sleeps and he sleeps and that man has already spread his story to as many timelines as possible, but he still sleeps.
and even when his soul finally returns to the place it belongs, finally coming back to the ones he longed for; the ones he always yearned to see again, the ones he loves with his entire being, so much that he's willing to sacrifice himself without batting an eye — he still sleeps.
there’s tapping on the wall now. there’s knocking and banging and writing and screaming and shouting. there’s finally a response. there's finally someone there.
but he has sunken too far into his dreams. the depth of his unconsciousness drowning out all senses. he's dead but also very much alive.
a painless, peaceful slumber.
he’s still far too tired to wake up. and so he continues to sleep and sleep for the rest of his eternity.