an archive of sorts

You dream every night of the game, of dying, of your sister. You dream of time traveling, you dream of LOHAC, you dream of a certain troll that you never fully lost feelings for. The dreams are stronger and stronger every night, painting a story that you don't want to remember.

You're the only one that remembers, anyway.

John went to your school, back in middle school. You recognized him immediately, and tried to talk to him, but he was different. He didn't know you. He wasn't your best bro like he once was, in a different universe. The one conversation was awkward, slow paced. He didn't get any of your subtle hints (have you heard of sburb? no? i'm sorry, dude, i don't even know your name, haha), he didn't know you, and he didn't care to. You cursed yourself for scaring him off the day you found out he transfered classes.

The day after you talked to him.

You gave up on trying to find the others quickly after.

You drew your comics, remembering the teal text that lead you to the style they took on now. Besides your comics, you drew a lot more than you used to. You drew gears, and clocks, counting how long it took without any effort. You never lost your ability to tell time, even across universes. Once a hero of time, always a hero of time, you supposed.

 You drew lava surrounding records, crocodile merchants, and different kinds of swords. You drew Rose on the night you died, green sun exploding in the background. You drew Terezi, but that drawing stays in the bottom of your desk at home, tear stained paper hidden away forever.

You sigh and get out of bed, wishing desperately for an alien species that nobody knew existed to pester you, missing your best friend; your sister.

Your dream last night was of Rose this time, and all of your time spent with her. In your original universe, you would do anything for her. You even played the goddamn game that got you stuck in this boring timeline in the first place for her. You miss her dearly; her lavender eyes to match your red ones, her witty comebacks and how easy she was to talk to. You knew she understood you in ways that neither John or Jade could compare to, and you had always appreciated that. Maybe you'd been really shitty at showing it, but that didn't make it any less true. Rose has been your best friend once upon a time, and now your best friend didn't even know you existed.

That fact alone weighed you down more than anything else left over from the game. Not even teal text and bracket smile emoticons could make you feel this bad.

As you put on the day's attire, you grabbed a purple scarf to wear for the day. Black was the normal mourning color, but somehow you found lavender more appropriate for who you were mourning.

..

You sit in the back of the class, ostrisized for some reason or another that you don't care about, waiting for the bell to ring. You're early, you almost always are, since nobody bothers to talk to you. You were always awkward to talk to, with your habit of monologuing and the fact that you had lived a completely different life and remembered every second of it.

After fourty three seconds of sitting alone in the classroom, other students begin to fill in the room, whispering about something. You think you hear your name, but you can't be sure.

The teacher walks in after another minute and seventeen seconds, huge fake grin plastered onto her wrinkled face. You know how that is.

"Class," she starts out, and you look at her with a dull expression, "there's a new student joining us today." She waves the new kid into the class room, and you are vaguely interested now.

"Please, introduce yourself."

You almost fall out of your chair. You could never forget those lavender eyes, that short, hay like hair, that piercing smile. You would recognize the girl that now stood in front of the class anywhere, able to pick her out of any crowd. Her laugh was forever ingrained into your dreams of a long lost timeline, taunting you with the knowledge of another life.

"My name is Rose Lalonde, it's a pleasure to make your aquaintince," she says, her voice flowing like water on glass from her purple tinted lips.

You almost want to cry. She's here, she's real. Your sister, your best friend. You're not really sure how to handle this, or how you should feel. You're happy, for sure. Even if she doesn't remember it's still nice to look at her. She doesn't have to know who you are, or what she means to you, Rose Lalonde existing in this universe, in your general area, is enough to make your lips curl upwards -- the unfamiliar form of a smile.

Even if you love her completely selflessly (you spit the word love out in your brain, after chewing it around and mulling it over. It feels awkward, insincere; wrong, even) it will still be living hell to see her walk around near you every day and not talk to her. She won't know you like she once did, there won't be that sarcastic banter that hid the true understanding between the two of you. Her purple eyes would no longer be tinted with humor and knowledge, hiding the pain of the horrorterrors.

You shook your head. She might not be the same, not by a long shot, but seeing your best friend in the flesh after years of not was a victory in itself.

..

Classes went by agonizingly slow that day. The introduction of Rose kept you preoccupied, along with your dreams from the night before. Ironically enough, you had dreamt of your sister. You had dreamt of the Green Sun, and Derse, and dying.