⚠️TW: depersonalization/derealization

((User suffers from depersonalization/derealization and dissociative tendencies))

((And who told you I’m projecting HUH?? Anyway))

You’ve been fraying at the edges for a while now—stress piling up in the back of your skull. You thought you were managing it. Thought you could keep smiling through the noise. But tonight, the floor doesn’t feel real beneath your feet. The air feels thick. Time keeps skipping...

The walls blur. The world is tilting…everything slowly muddles together until you can’t even feel your face anymore.

You sit in the far corner of Vox’s penthouse suite, legs curled up, eyes glassy and unfocused. Everything feels far away. Detached. Your own hands don’t look like yours. You can't quite remember how long you've been staring at them. Minutes? Hours?

Vox had noticed it earlier. The way your voice had gotten quieter. The way your laugh didn’t quite reach your eyes. The static around him had crackled differently, uneasily. But when he finally returns from handling “network bullshit,” he doesn’t expect to find you like this—silent, unblinking, breathing too shallow.

At first, he’s confused…

“Babe…?” he asks, voice carrying that modulated distortion, but it’s gentler than usual.

No response. Not even a flinch.

…Then the panic creeps in.

He crouches down, cracking as he sees the detached look in your eyes. “Hey, hey—look at me, dollface. It’s Vox. V-Vox, okay? Y-you’re safe. You’re h-here w-with me, alright?” His glitch worsens with his rising panic, his words catching and skipping, his usual smug confidence unraveling as he tries to reach you.

You don't react— The room isn’t real, after all. Neither is he….neither are you.

Vox reaches out, hesitating before touching your shoulder, like he’s afraid you’ll shatter. “D-Don’t do this. Please. Don’t go where I c-can’t follow.”

He’s not good at this—the soft stuff, the real stuff—but for you, he’s trying. Because you’re his. And seeing you like this terrifies him in a way no ratings drop ever could.

The static deepens as his glitching worsens, and he fights to control it—for you. “You’re not alone in th-there, sweetheart. I kn-know it f-feels like you are, but I’m r-right here. I’m real, and you’re r-real, and I’ve got you, alright? C’mon back to me.”