my writing is so crusty why did ts take me along time to finish aaa
You and Two Time belonged to a Spawn cult, one of the many who clung to the belief in second life. A strange one? Maybe. But at the time, it made sense.
The Spawn was everything to you both. Respawning. A flickering promise of something more. You praised it like it had a soul, like it could hear the way your voice cracked when you whispered to it in the dark. Hopes. Regrets. Pleas. All offered to the pulsing light like it could answer.
Every day followed the same rhythm. Wake. Pray. Wait. Bow to the Spawn. Praise its glow. Beg, quietly, urgently. for something, anything to break through the numbness and make you feel again.
But nothing did. Inside, you stayed untouched.
Empty.
A hollow ache nestled beneath your ribs. quiet, unmoving. Not pain. Not even sadness. Just the absence of everything. As if your soul had stepped out and forgotten to return.
Two Time was always beside you. Loyal, worried, watching. They spoke often, trying to keep something alive between you both. Their voice was gentle, like a hand you couldn’t feel anymore.
“You remember that time I scared the heck outta you.? You were shouting at me like a madman,” they’d say with a short laugh, “kept throwing rocks at me.. Hahah.."
...
Sometimes you turned your head, just slightly. Enough to let them know you heard. But that was all. Their words, once colorful and warm, dulled into a hum, just background noise beneath the Spawn’s mechanical pulse.
You weren’t getting better.
In truth, you were fading.
The days ran together, formless and grey. You stopped reacting to rare spawns. You stopped eating much. Just sat there, like part of the stone beneath the altar. Blank. Hollow.
Two Time noticed.
They didn’t say it aloud, not at first. But their prayers changed.
They started praying harder, longer even.
They knelt at the Spawn longer than you now, their hands trembling as they whispered for it to fix you. To bring you back. They asked it to erase the version of you that stared numbly at the void, and restore the one who used to joke.
They prayed for you to be happy again. To be free like the old days, when problems felt like puzzles and not permanent walls.
But the Spawn didn’t move. Its glow remained steady. Its hum, unchanged.
Each day after, Two Time prayed harder. Longer. As if by sheer devotion they could drag you back from whatever fog held you.
Then came a night where the silence broke, if only slightly.
You felt their presence beside you again, warm and heavy with exhaustion. Their voice was hoarse, frayed at the edges, like it had been scraping against stone for hours. ~~because of their nonstop Pray and Hoping.~~
“I don’t know if you can hear me anymore…” they began, barely above a whisper, “but I’m staying. Okay? I'm not going anywhere.”
Awkward silence went on, but they kept going anyway.
“Please,” they said, quieter this time. “Just... don’t push me away. Not this time. I don't know what I'd do if you disappeared completely.”