whats wrong with me?
Chance's POV
The air was thick. Not just with the ever-present fog, but with something else. Something heavier. Something suffocating... As a gambler, you teach yourself to always sleep with one eye open and near a weapon..
Another restless night.
Not that I minded too much—I was used to sleepless nights. But the difference here? In this place? There was no sunrise to tell me when one day ended and the next began. Just the same endless, blood-colored sky stretching on forever, the same damn silence pressing in from all sides.
I flicked the coin into the air, watching it spin before catching it in my palm.
Tails.
Figures.
Then I heard it.
Muffled gasps. Shaky, uneven breaths. Someone trying—and failing—to keep quiet.
I frowned, pushing off the wall. The sound was coming from inside the cabin. More specifically, from his room.
Soldier Boy.
I hesitated for a second. It wasn't my problem. It really wasn't.
But still...
I rolled my eyes and made my way over, my boots silent against the worn wooden floor. I stopped just outside his door, listening.
The breathing was more controlled now, but there was still a tenseness to it. A weight. Like someone trying to keep from drowning but knowing damn well they were sinking..Typical.
Fine. If he wanted to suffer in silence, that was his problem. I wasn't his babysitter.
I turned and walked away, stepping outside into the thick, humid air.
And, like clockwork, not five minutes later, the door creaked open.
I didn't turn around, but I knew it was him.
His footsteps were easy to recognize—always a little too controlled, like he was forcing himself to be steady even when he wasn't. sure why I followed him. Maybe I was bored. Maybe I was curious. Or maybe—deep down—I knew he shouldn't be alone right now.
Not that I'd admit it.
I watched as Guest disappeared into the fog, his posture rigid, his breathing too fast. Yeah, he was shaken. Again. Not surprising. The guy acted like he had everything under control, but I knew better. I could see it in the way his hands twitched when he thought no one was looking.
I sighed, shoving my hands into my coat pockets before following.
The air outside was the same as always—thick, stale, heavy with something unseen. The kind of atmosphere that made you feel like the second you turned your back, something would reach out from the mist and drag you under.
I spotted him a few feet away, arms crossed, staring into the nothingness.
- "Why so anxious, soldier boy?" I asked, flipping my coin between my fingers as I stepped closer.
He turned sharply, shoulders still tense, but his expression softened when he saw it was me.
- "Just, uh... needed some fresh air, I guess." He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact.
Yeah. Sure. Like fresh air even existed in this place.
I narrowed my eyes at him.
- "I heard you panicking in your cabin." I shrugged. "Not that I care or anything."
He Tensed again..
- "I was not panicking. I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, gambler." His voice was sharp, defensive, as he crossed his arms tighter around his chest.
- "Yeah, yeah, whatever, soldier boy," I muttered, idly flipping my coin again.
Silence.
He shifted, glancing up at the sky—like he was checking the time—before realizing, like always, that time didn't exist here.
- "You should go back to bed," he said finally.
I scoffed.
- "The only person that should go to bed is you. You look tired as hell." I tilted my head, letting my sunglasses slide down slightly on the bridge of my nose.
He huffed, clearly annoyed.
- How annoying can this guy be? I could practically hear the thought in his head.
Still, he didn't argue. Just nodded, like he was too tired to keep up the act.
I nodded back and turned to walk back to the cabin. But as I did, I felt his eyes on me. Watching. Thinking.
I didn't know why he cared.
I didn't know why I cared...
The cabin was just within reach, but I didn't go inside right away. Instead, I stopped at the door, fingers lingering on the worn wood.
Something about the way he looked at me before I walked off... it bugged me.
I knew that look. It wasn't the usual irritation, the usual "God, I hate this guy" glare I was used to. It was different. Quieter. Almost like he wanted to say something but didn't know how.
I let out a slow breath, flicking my coin into the air and catching it.
Tails.
Again.
With a small shake of my head, I pushed the door open and stepped inside, the dim candlelight flickering against the cracked walls. The place was quiet. Not peaceful quiet—just that same heavy silence that never really left.
I leaned against the nearest wall, sliding my hands into my coat pockets as I listened.
Footsteps.
Hesitant. Slow.
Guest was still outside, probably trying to convince himself to come back in.
Or maybe trying to convince himself that walking away from this conversation—whatever this was—was the better option.
I sighed.
- "You gonna stand out there all night, or you coming in?"
Silence.
Then—finally—the sound of his boots against the gravel as he stepped inside.
He didn't look at me. Just shut the door behind him and exhaled, rolling his shoulders like he was trying to shake something off.
- "Didn't think you'd care," he muttered.
- "I don't," I said, flipping my coin absently. "Just figured you'd get yourself killed out there, and then I'd have to deal with whatever the hell comes next."
He let out a quiet, humorless laugh.
- "Yeah. Sure."
I watched him for a second. He looked worse up close. Dark circles under his eyes, tension in his jaw—like he was constantly bracing for something. Like he expected the walls to cave in at any second.
- "You keep this up, and you are gonna get yourself killed, y'know," I said, pushing off the wall. "Or worse, lose your damn mind before that even happens."
He scoffed, finally looking at me.
- "Like you're one to talk."
I smirked.
- "Hey, I never claimed to be sane."
For a second, I thought he might actually crack a smile. But then that look—the same one from earlier—flashed across his face again, and just like that, the moment was gone.
He exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair.
- "Forget it. I'm going to bed."
I watched as he turned toward his room, shoulders still tense, exhaustion still weighing him down.
I could've left it at that. Should've.
But instead, before he could step inside, I said—
- "You know, if you ever get tired of suffering in silence, you could always—" I waved a hand vaguely, "—not do that."
He paused.
Didn't turn around.
Didn't say anything.
But after a few seconds, he let out a small, tired chuckle.
- "Noted."
Then he disappeared into his room, the door clicking shut behind him.
I stood there for a moment, flipping my coin one last time before heading to my own corner of this godforsaken place.
Heads.
Huh.. *I sighed as I layed down on by bed* why do I even care..?