Alone Again

TW: PANIC ATTACK/PANIC ATTACK SYMPTOMS! Read with caution, and as always stay safe out there :)

The moment OJ opened his eyes, he knew he was in a dream.

What other explanation was there, for the endless turquoise sky around him that he'd only seen once before?

Because if he wasn't dreaming, then that meant that he was dead. And how would he have died? He had fallen asleep beside his lover, hadn't he? He found it hard to believe that someone had managed to kill him in his sleep. The hotel had pretty good security.

He stood up, mindlessly strolling about the place, a chill running through his body with every step he took. It was just like last time, except nothing new was spawning in. There were no noises or other contestants nearby... just him and this- cyan void... what was it called again... MeAfterLife?

He entertained the idea of walking around for a little while, his steps slow and robotic, but he didn't get too far with that idea before he started to question if he was even moving at all. It was hard to tell in here.

Was he really just going to stand here, bored, until he had the common sense to wake up? For a while there, it seemed like he would - what could you do in such a dull, empty void, after all?

But then there was a quiet 'pop' sound behind him.

His hotel. Or rather, the one he used to own. Hotel OJ.

Everything they'd built... brick by brick, piece by piece... it was all there, perfectly intact.

His feet started taking him towards it. He didn't know why. He already knew what he was going to find there. And he wasn't sure if he was ready to see it again.

He stepped inside the building, greeted with the cold, dead silence. The entire room was spotless, almost shimmering, as if it were brand new.

He opened the fridge, and he wasn't immediately yelled at for trying to 'steal' a certain someone's stash of sweets. There was nothing in the fridge at all, just rows and rows filled with the same cool air that surrounded him.

When he made his way up the stairs, there was no loud rock music being blasted from the second room on the left. No excited rambles from a cheerful voice down the hall. Not even the gossip from the fourth room on his right; which although he thought he despised, he'd never truly realised how much he'd miss until now.

And worst of all... when he opened the door to his own room, there was no quiet humming, there was no sound of pages being turned, no distorted yelling playing from an old, barely functional laptop on the bed... just his bed, the nightstand, closet, drawers, desk...

But no Paper.

There was nobody anywhere.

He was... well he was alone. Again.

He sighed to himself, climbing into the neatly made bed. It didn't smell like a beautiful blend of citrus and fibre like it used to. His cork wasn't on the nightstand. But what did it matter? Even if his juice spilled, there'd be nobody here to clean it up for.

And so, he just stared at the ceiling, wide awake. For some reason, he couldn't get back to sleep. He just... couldn't. His eyes and body would never feel heavy, and his thoughts wouldn't stop racing and rushing around his head.

Because... well... Without people around... without anyone to care for, to work for, to help... he was completely worthless. Just as worthless as a hotel with no residents.

-

He didn't know how long it'd been, but eventually he realised his cork was in his glass. He blinked a few times and realised and it was also... darker.

Oh. He must've woken up.

That surely meant-

He felt around for his boyfriend, only to find that the space was empty.

He shot up in the bed. What?

He searched under pillows, the covers, looking anywhere and everywhere for him... but there was not a trace of his little paper angel to be found.

Was he still dreaming? No, he was conscious, in Hotel Payjay, and the sky was a black void now, dotted with shimmering stars every now and then.

So where was he? Where was Paper?

His thoughts started to spiral. What if Paper realised how much of an awful, self-centred person he was? What if he was too clingy? What if he wasn't clingy enough? Was everyone else gone, too? Was he doomed to live out the rest of his life in eternal solitude?

The thoughts and anxieties overwhelmed him. He clutched the empty bed sheets close to his chest. Everything felt so real, so... lifeless... he hated it. Like the hotel was nothing more than a corporate building, stripped of all the love and care that had been invested into it.

He didn't know how long he spent in this state. He didn't know if time was speeding up or it was his breathing that kept getting faster... the ticking noise of his clock slowly began getting louder, and louder, until the seconds ticking by, faster and faster and faster, was all he could focus on. Everything was just so loud... it felt like there was nothing he could do.

No... no, no god no, he couldn't lose everything... not again... not again, not AGAIN-

The door to his room opened.

He barely even registered it at first, but the moment he did, everything seemed to stop, just for a moment, and his eyes flickered to the figure by the doorframe.

Paper. His lover. His angel, his partner, his everything...

Even in his hysteric state, he wasted no time rushing out of bed, clutching Paper close and sobbing his heart out, his breaths still shaky and uneven. He was still shaking. When had he started shaking?

"Oh Paper... Paper, you're okay... oh Paper, please don't leave me... please pleasepleasepleaseplease-"

"Hey, hey, 'JJ... relax, calm down... I'm right here... I just went to get a bit of water, okay? I'm right here. I'll never leave you. I love you."

Paper's arms wrapped back around OJ, and he hadn't been so relieved to hear that sweet, high-pitched voice since they reunited in MeAfterLife.

"C'mon... just breathe with me, alright? Slow and steady now..."

The sounds of Paper's relaxed, deep breathing made OJ feel a little better. Paper was helping him. Paper always helped him, he always made everything better.

It took a while for him to match Paper's breathing pace, but the soothing circles being rubbed into his back and the patient, encouraging whispers soon worked their magic. Paper led them back to their bed, a soft, content smile on his face.

"Good... very good... just keep going... you're okay now, alright? Everything's okay... you're safe here..."

OJ nodded, maintaining eye contact with him as the world slowly began to come back into focus. As everything began to click back into place. His tears stained Paper's page - but he didn't really seem to care.

All that mattered to Paper was that he was here. Here to care for his boyfriend when he clearly so desperately needed it. Because they were both healing; and he knew that they both needed their other halves to care for them when they were in distress.

And he was more than willing to care for OJ, just as he was now, until the end of time. Because... he loved OJ. More than anything else, he loved OJ.

And he knew... that he wasn't going anywhere. Not until the day he actually died; and even then they'd see each other in the afterlife, wouldn't they?

Everything was going to be fine. Everything was going to be okay. Just them in their own peaceful, safe world, with everyone they ever loved and cared for by their side.

"Feeling a bit better?"

OJ nodded at those words, pulling Paper in closer on the bed. He needed his lover. He didn't care what else happened now, he needed Paper. More than he needed anything else in the world.

And Paper understood that perfectly, pulling the two back into bed. Tender kisses, tight and warm cuddles... he didn't ever cease in showering him with affection, not even for a single moment. And there were no words that OJ could ever say that would express how much he appreciated that.

It was foolish to doubt Paper. To think even for a second that Paper would ever leave him, that he would ever be truly worthless. He knew that now. And he appreciated it every time Paper would remind him.