Fakes of Fakes | Unreality | Deltarune
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Fakes of Fakes
Prompt: Unreality
Fandom: Deltarune
Prompt: Unreality
Fandom: Deltarune
Summary: Jevil helps awaken Spamton to the nature of their reality.
That damn clown was back.
It was bad enough that Jevil regularly showed up unannounced, popping up at the most inopportune times when Spamton was just trying to get some god damn work done. When he already had too much on his plate as it was between his collaboration with Tenna and his own ventures. But Jevil couldn’t show up at his office like a normal person. No. He had to ambush him in his apartment in increasingly terrifying ways.
Today’s flavor of torment was hiding in his closet for god knows how long until he went to hang up his suit. The moment he turned to exit, Jevil was just standing there, leering at him with his usual wide, toothy grin.
Spamton handled the jumpscare with all the grace and poise expected out of a professional. He certainly did not let out a high-pitched scream, trip backwards, and scramble until his back was against the wall. He wasn’t afraid of clowns. Absolutely not.
Jevil cackled as he climbed back to his feet, hands shaking as he dusted himself off.
“UEE HEE HEE! ANOTHER POINT FOR ME, ME!”
“Why can’t you [knock knock] like a normal [$#!@]ing person?”
“WHY, WHAT WOULD BE THE FUN IN THAT?” Still, Jevil at least stepped aside and let him out of the closet. Spamton slammed the door behind him, ignoring the laugh as Jevil opened it and let himself out.
Spamton migrated to the kitchen, pulling a box of leftovers from the cafe out of the fridge. He tossed it in the microwave and slammed the door with more force than necessary, trying to ignore the sound of Jevil messing with his things until he couldn’t take it anymore. The microwave buzzed behind him as he whirled around, jabbing a finger in Jevil’s direction. “Alright, why are you here, clown?”
Jevil hopped onto Spamton’s couch and lounged on his side, propping his head up on his elbow. “MUST I HAVE A REASON TO VISIT A FRIEND, FRIEND?”
“We are not friends.”
“YOU SAY THAT, YET WE HAVE SO MUCH IN COMMON. KNOWLEDGE, KNOWLEDGE. UNDERSTANDING OF WHAT IS TO BE. OF WHAT IS.” Jevil averted his gaze and, for the first time since Spamton had met him, his expression turned to something genuinely negative: unease. “WHAT IS, IS WHAT BROUGHT ME HERE TODAY. TELL ME, TELL ME. HAS HE SHOWN YOU THE TRUTH YET?”
Spamton stared at Jevil through narrowed eyes. The microwave went off, so he turned to grab his food. “You’ll have to be more specific than that.” Part of it was obvious enough. There was only one He Jevil could be referring to. But his benefactor had told him lots of things.
“THE TRUTH, TRUTH. THE DARK TRUTH OF IT ALL. OF WHAT WE ARE. OF OUR REALITY.”
“No…? I don’t recall talking about anything like that.”
“HAVE YOU LOOKED INTO THE CRYSTAL?”
“The… crystal?” Spamton swallowed thickly. “The… thing He told me to look for in the basement?” Jevil nodded, so he answered, “No, not… not yet. I should have it right around…” He pat down his pockets, swore under his breath, then went back to his jacket and pulled out the palm-sized crystal, nearly invisible in his hand if not for the shadow it cast. He looked down at it, flipping it over twice as he returned to the living room. “Uh. What am I supposed to be looking at he…re…?”
As he held the crystal up between two fingers, he caught a glimpse of something. He closed one eye, holding it closer. He saw green carpet, desks, and computers, a laptop in the middle. Posters lined the walls. A… computer lab?
“What am I supposed to be looking at?”
“DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND, UNDERSTAND? THE CRYSTAL REVEALS THE LIGHT WORLD. YOU SEE OUR REALITY, AS VIEWED BY THE LIGHTNERS.”
“The… light world? That’s what it looks like?”
“IN A WAY, WAY. ONLY A PART, PART. A WINDOW TO THE WORLD AS SEEN BY THE LIGHTNERS. TO US, AS SEEN BY THE LIGHTNERS. DO YOU GET IT?”
“We all know ligtners see us as different. We serve a purpose for them.” Or we’re supposed to. “What are you trying to get at?”
“I ASKED HIM THE SAME, SAME. AND HE ANSWERED WITH A QUESTION MOST STRANGE. A QUESTION ABOUT THE PROPHECY, PROPHECY. IF WE ARE BUT THINGS TO THE LIGHTNERS, SMALL PARTS OF THEIR LIVES, THEN WHAT ARE THE LIGHTNERS TO SOMETHING ABOVE THEM? TO THE ANGEL, ANGEL?”
Spamton curled his lip, but he couldn’t ignore the twisting feeling in his gut. “What are you trying to get at?”
“DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND, SPAMMY? WE’RE. NOT. REAL. OUR WORLD IS NOTHING BUT A PLAYTHING FOR THE LIGHTNERS. AND YET, THE LIGHTNERS ARE PLAYTHINGS FOR THE ANGEL, ANGEL. WE ARE NOTHING BUT FAKES OF FAKES! NOTHING MATTERS, MATTERS! WE CAN DO ANYTHING AND IT! WON’T! MATTER!”
Spamton took a step back, wrapping his free hand around the edge of the counter to keep himself standing. Jevil was… Wrong. He had to be wrong.
“Shut up.”
Jevil cackled. “IS SOMEONE UNHAPPY?”
“I said shut up!” Spamton tossed the crystal at Jevil, but the jester merely stepped aside. “I didn’t struggle my way from squalor to success just to have a damn [clown around town] tell me none of that mattered! I didn’t give up friends because they were too jealous and would never understand just to be told it didn’t matter!”
“THINK, THINK! YOU KNOW OF THE PROPHECY, IF IT WAS SOMETHING THAT COULD BE STOPPED, THEN WE WOULD MATTER. BUT IT CAN’T, AND SO WE DON’T! SO WHY NOT HAVE FUN, FUN? CAUSE A LITTLE CHAOS, CHAOS?”
“Fun?” he spat the word out, like it was made of acid. “You think this is fun? Just some sort of game?”
“IS IT NOT?”
“No!” Spamton hurled an envelope-shaped magic attack at Jevil. It fizzled out before even reaching him. His magic wasn’t the strongest at the best of times. And with Jevil’s words digging into his head, he couldn’t focus enough to sustain the attack.
“Nothing matters? Are you crazy?” He laughed, loud and mocking, as he turned his back on the clown. Because what else could he do, when the alternative was accepting Jevil’s words? He ran his hands through his hair, pulling strands loose from the styling gel and turned his head to look back. “You’ve lost it. You’ve totally lost it, haven’t you?”
“THINGS DON’T SEEM THAT WAY TO ME, ME. IT IS A MATTER OF UNDERSTANDING, WHILE OTHER DARKNERS LIE COMFORTABLE IN THEIR PRISON. BUT ME? I’M FREE.”
Spamton had heard enough. He jabbed a hand towards the door. “Get out.” Jevil opened his mouth to say something, but Spamton interrupted him. “Get out!”
The jester’s smile faltered. He sighed, bowing. “VERY WELL, BUT REMEMBER MY WORDS WELL, WELL, WHEN THE PROPHECY COMES TO PASS AND YOU ARE BUT IMPRISONED IN YOUR STRUGGLES.”
He turned and strolled towards the door, Spamton following close behind. He paused at the doorway. “YOU KNOW WHERE TO FIND ME WHEN YOU RECOGNIZE THE TRUTH, TRUTH.”
Spamton slammed the door shut. He waited until Jevil’s footsteps retreated, then slid down against the back of the door, taking in shuddering breaths as he ran his hands down his face. No. Jevil had to be wrong. They couldn't be fake. He had to be real. He had to be. His choices mattered. He mattered.
But what if he was right? said the little thought in the back of his mind. What if everything is fake?
The answer was simple. He had to defy fate. He needed to make his choices matter. He needed to matter.
No matter the cost.