Work Text:
there’s certain days, times, places, where nothing feels real.
with life abuzz, every soul and waking breath a hive of whistling bees, an eccentric trail of nonstop thoughts and emotions, times like these seem to be somewhat... rare.
especially nowadays, with all that’s going on around chase’s usually boring life, a moment of peace is a genuine diamond in a kids dirt pit.
and it’s these moments of silence, a small moment, a glimpse of time in which there is nothing, that allows him the time to think.
he wonders, in the low rumbling of an empty, late-night subway car, mostly empty besides an elder woman several seats down, sniffling occasionally, what brought him here.
was it courage or cowardice, that brought him to sam pretorious? was it bravery that allowed him to step on that set, masked like the devil to the tree, or like most of his emotions, did it route right back to fear?
while now, his ability to lie white as snow without batting an eye seemed a gift, he wonders now, in the silence of the moving subway, why.
sam had been growing... comfy, lately. with these cheat sheets, these ideas of grandeur that boiled down to him yearning for a life off the cameras.
it almost felt like one of brady’s pranks, except without the animals, and he still stands, awaiting an at least somewhat funny punchline.
but, as he continues to wait, he wonders if he wants a punchline.
does he want to return to his life? does he want the stage?
neither seem all that appealing, just different tastes of the same poison. a book written only slightly different, but with wildly opposing covers.
... what does he want?
is it worth it, to follow sam’s sheets? is it worth the web of lies he’s weaved around himself, tying himself to the sins of his bleeding sky?
it all leads back, he guesses, to fear.
fear of people judging him for his issues. fear of being found out. fear of his lies being brought to light.
it’s the fear, he muses, the fear of falling back, when he’s already gone so far.
the fear, that wards sam deeper into his own life. the fear of judgment, betrayal, scorn, that has him fading away, glitching away onto a stage of lights and paparazzi cameras.
what does he want?
the subway stops, and he stands up.
life buzzes back to life, a thousand new thoughts and emotions to feel.
he doesn’t sigh, doesn’t make a sound.
he simply leaves, footsteps echoing in the near silence of the station.
he steps off. cold cement greets him like an old friend.
the subway waits three seconds.
drives off with another low rumble.
it’s time to go back to set.