Work Text:
I don't know if I'm real.
No, it's more like I don't think life is real.
My life feels like a story. A normal boy turned hero because he wants to save his best friend. Hero turned into four as he draws a magical sword that he's never heard of. But wasn't it the same boy who made it?
Four turned into one with no complications. His dead enemy—now turned friend and some parts lover—is back from the dead with no complications. No scars, only a small pushback from those he hurt, and the hero didn't need to search much to find out how to do the ritual.
This is what one would heard about in stories.
In fairytales.
And I decided to act the part. Ever since I—we—became four, I knew something was off. But I had decided to ignore it, even if I did stuff that I knew I wouldn't normally do. I acted more dramatically, more expressive, more...everything.
If my—our—life is a story, it has to have a reader. So why shouldn't I make my reader happy? They can laugh with me, cry with me, get angry with me...or even at me.
I don't really mind that I'm in a story, but I don't plan to reveal it to anyone. I know them well enough to know that they would be devastated.
Vio wouldn't believe me, but if I somehow managed to convince him, he would try to figure out why. Why we're just characters, how we're thinking and living and have a pulse...and what he can do with that knowledge.
Blue would reject it. He'd try to go against what the readers or writers wants, not knowing he's following the same script as usual.
Green would do a bit of the same as Blue, yet also a bit like Vio. I don't think he would get any closer than they would, and may even crash and burn harder than them.
Though it's not like I'm planning on telling them, of course. I don't want them to be scared of not knowing if your thoughts are your own, about what other strangers you will never meet may know about you.
Are these thoughts my own, or those of a bored writer's daily drabbles? I decide not to think about it.
"Hurry up, Red!! I'm leaving without you if you don't hurry up!", Blue yells from upstairs, and I giggle as I pick up my bag.
"I'm coming in one second!", I yell back, slowly walking down the stairs to start a new page in this little story.