Singularity- Ch. 1

lanxborealis:

[AO3] [FF.net]

Since everyone else was doing an origin fic, I thought I’d give it a try.

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He
was pulling. Pulling, pushing and burning.

Burning so
brightly; blue flames licking, tasting, enjoying his immortal
soul.

He also heard sharp, cold screams mixed with insane
laughter.

The laughter echoed inside him, mixing and
harmonizing perfectly with his shrill screams.

And he was
still burning.

If he could’ve heard over his own agony, over
the laughter, the tears, the screams, and cackle of fire, he would
have heard someone screaming for him. Shouting desperately at the top
of their lungs.

If he could’ve felt anything besides his very
essence tearing and burning, he would’ve felt the familiar grip of
hands around his shoulders, gripping him as hard as they could to try
and put him back together.

But he felt nothing from the
outside. Heard nothing from the outside. All he felt was in his mind-
no, his very soul. All he could feel was the flux of pushing,
pulling, and burning.

Burning bright. Burning out.

Then,
he saw.

He was a spark. Blue flames that did what he bid. He
was a wildfire; uncontrollably powerful. He was candlelight.
Soothing, calm. He was the flames licking the sides of bricks in a
fireplace, sharing warmth with those around him. He was fire.
Crackling, laughing, sobbing, furious fire that left nothing
unmarked.

He was change. In constant flux between the lines of
reality and dreams. Expectations and decisions.

What was he?
What was anyone? What was anything?

Questions filled his mind,
fast and furious. Yet, as fast as the questions came, there always
seemed to be an answer. An answer so obvious, he couldn’t believe he
hadn’t understood.

The questions and answers came faster.

He
burned ever brighter.

The screams got ever louder.

The
pushing and pulling came harder.

And then, laughter. Laughter
so familiar it hurt and then it stopped and then everything
hurt.

Hurt so horribly.

He wasn’t burning bright, but
fast. To fast. He was going to supernova. His body- vessel- meat bag
couldn’t handle the flames. The knowledge. Reality itself, in his
veins.

He let himself push harder. Pull harder, the motions
within his very soul.

There was screaming again. But not like
before. There was no coldness to it anymore. It was piercing.
Childlike. Metallic.

Agony in it’s purest, most vocal
form.

He then realized that it was him that was screaming. Him
that those sounds came from.

And he was still burning.

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