Moments Between Them

Night time was one of their favorite times. Sometimes, the day would be too bright or too dreary, but the night always waved to them a soft ‘hello’ before the stars began their opening act.

Constellations would dance in their mind, stories unfolding while history flourished in what remained.

The Archivists told stories of how humans would battle and titans would roar, violence to incite peace and mortals demanding to live forever. They moved the stars through time, showing how they were born and would die.

“Remember, dear sibling.” They would whisper, never looking at their youngest for more than a second. “We are not stars, nor human, nor titan, nor the other creatures below us. We are Gods, to them. Gods who rule over these simple creatures, not because we are compassionate, but because we are what they desire to be.”

When they were younger, The Collector would go down to interact with the other beings, many welcoming, others afraid, all curious. Questions would flood the immortal being, most answered, others they didn’t know.

“They know how replaceable they are, sibling. Should they act out of line..”

The Collector stopped listening long ago, despite continuing to look. Their stories were all the same, yet no blood would be shed on The Collector’s hands, not if they could help it.

Metaphorical blood stained, yet never dripped. Despite the heavy burden their conscience carries, The Collector knew most of their victims had been more collateral damage, than their own direct victims. Even so, it was their fault, and blood still pooled in their hands.

The sky was still lit by the setting sun, and the near velvet purple of the stars was arriving.

Luz and King seemed entertained by their own conversation, but The Collector was looking forward to the stars more.

If they squint hard enough, they’d be able to see the Archivist’s own home, a place they quickly threw away any thought of.

Luz laughed at a bread pun King made; he’d been making them more often. The Collector smiled at the warmth that bloomed in their chest.

Luz and King left long ago, heading to sleep.

"Are you sure you'll be okay out here, Collector?" They liked Luz. She was always so nice to them.

The Collector smiled, briefly turning to face her. "Yeah! I just really want to see the sky today."

They left shortly after, both bidding The Collector goodbye.

The breeze in their fingers was warm, as was the air. The seasons seemed to come a lot more.. Randomly after everything. Though, now, the stars seemed to slow a bit, their performance over and the sky settling to its still form.

Sighing, The Collector stood silently bidding a farewell until later.

Often, they wondered why the stars would dance. There’s a sense of hope in The Collector, but they knew better than to act on it.

The Owl House was dark when The Collector returned, though that was to be expected. Hooty was peacefully asleep, even if The Collector knew that the demon didn’t exactly sleep like other beings would. The hallway was pitch black, The Collector walking through with a mental map of assorted junk and creaky floorboards. They felt a chill down their spine as they slowly approached their room. 

It wasn’t exactly the dark that irked them, but something else, something that had them frozen.

They weren’t sure why it happened either, like the event was completely blacked out in their mind. Somehow, at some time, The Collector was simply looking into their reflection and saw nothing.

Just nothing, they weren’t there. The hallway wasn’t there anymore. The Owl House was gone. It was just them inside of nothing. Their eyes burned; their chest was on fire; everything hurt but there was nothing. There.

They knew that the mirror was in front of them. In fact, they could easily move, but that would mean The Collector in front of them would be gone, and they would be alone. They couldn’t be alone.

Time seemed to move in a slurry, The Collector Outside of The Mirror couldn’t tell when it started or ended. 

The Collector Inside of The Mirror seemed afraid. He’d been staring at The Collector for a while now, an expression of fear on his face. The Collector wanted to make them feel better, but they couldn’t move very well, not while their reflection was Inside The Mirror.

Inside the mirror, it was usually dark, random lights would come along, facets carrying the voices and sounds of the outside world they once knew. The Titan is dead now, her body a home to others. At first, The Collector didn’t understand it, even now, it is hard to understand but they knew she couldn’t get up like she used to. She simply turned off, never to be restarted again. That is until after Belos came along like the cockroach he was.

Oh wait! The Collector Inside of The Mirror seemed to brighten, an idea also in his mind. If we’re inside of the mirror, maybe someone will find us and take us out!

It was a great idea; it was a stupid idea. 

It was the only thing they could hold on to, so they did, cradled gently in their hands lest it fall away like sand in their fingers.. 

Perhaps, Belos would let them see the palace again. The cover he put on their stone tablet would always leave a little light, even if Belos didn't mean it. Maybe, if The Collector was quiet enough, was good enough, he’ll let them out and talk with them again.

We just need to wait, just wait. The Collector Inside of The Mirror smiled, his expression nearly breaking at the seams. This is nothing for us, just be patient, we’ll play again, soon… Right?

“Collector? What’re you doing?”

The Archivists often said The Collector needed to be patient, that they had to wait a little longer before they could play another game. For a brief moment, in the mirror, The Collector wondered if they actually meant it. 

Did they really want to play? Did they really care about The Collector?

“Hey, what are you looking at?”

The Archivists reminded The Collector of a hug that had just been over with, a lingering warmth that would forever fade away as it waited for the next hug to come. Though The Collector had never been hugged by them, touch wasn’t a thing that existed for them, something unneeded. 

“Luz? What’s... Going on?”

The Titans were all about touch though. They would chitter about in their ancient language while jumping on their parents. Their fur would tickle when they pounced on The Collector. They were all so nice, and the games they played were much more funner than The Archivists.

The adults were kind of boring, always telling The Collector to be gentle with their babies, that they could break easily being so young. The Collector always listened to them, even if they didn't understand.

Papa Titan was mean though, never listening to The Collector. Being trapped felt awful, like the sensation of feeling numb everywhere. Before Belos found them, it was dark and lonely.

After Belos found them, it was just lonely, sometimes scary.

Even then, inside the mirror, The Collector yearned for touch, for the affirming pats on the head, for the comforting pats on the shoulder, the sensation of warm fur running through their fingers.

The Collector's hand twitched; he was still inside the mirror.

“Hey, what’re guys doing up? Is… Are they alright?”

Inside the mirror is where The Collector saw Belos create beings, Grimwalkers. Belos wasn’t nice to them; he would hurt them a lot. There were two grimwalkers they knew of, the only two that they’d ever seen. One was already dead, the other tired but alive.

The Collector wasn’t allowed to talk with the grimwalker though, always told to hide and stay still. It was unfair, but The Collector didn’t like the screams that the grimwalkers would make. The Archivists already caused enough of that.

“Hey, can you hear me?”

The last grimwalker would eat breakfast with them now and smile at The Collector. They would talk on and on and on, and Hunter always loved learning more about magic.

Hunter was..

“Hhh?" Their eyes felt dry, a feeling of dizziness overcoming them. “What’s..?” Their voice was broken.

Where were they?

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Just look at me, alright? Everything’s okay.” Hunter’s voice was soft. The lights were on. It burned slightly.

“Collector? You with me?” His voice interrupted his thoughts, The Collector feeling a pitting feeling in their stomach.. What was it.. Fear?

They couldn’t look away though. The Collector In The Mirror was still trapped. They couldn’t leave him alone.

“That’s just you. It’s your reflection. You’re not in the mirror, Collector.”

The voice became a grating feeling. He was real. He was trapped. He wanted out. He needed out. All of their voices were annoying, like little bugs chittering on end.

The Collector was still trapped. The Collector couldn’t get out. They couldn’t leave him there.

“Collector, it’s you. You’re not there anymore.” Hunter set a soft hand on The Collector’s shoulder.

It felt wrong.

“Stop!” The Collector growled, pulling away from Hunter. The mirror was behind him; it didn’t matter anymore. He was free. 

The grimwalker’s hand pulled away, a weird expression on their face.

“Hey, he's just trying to–” 

The human wasn’t important. The Collector turned back to the mirror, sneering at it before pushing past the group of people surrounding them.

Another door opened behind him; The Collector descended down a vaguely familiar staircase. There was a door in front of him, and multiple footsteps behind him. A twinge of guilt in his chest, The Collector sprinted outside.

The air was warm; the sky dark, still dark.

The Collector felt himself freeze slightly, the physical air of freedom wrapping around his arms, his actual body. It was… awful. 

“Hey, kid. What was that all about, huh?” The Collector jolted at the elderly voice; the woman raising her arm slowly. “It’s just me, kid. It’s alright.”

The Collector refrained from responding, choosing to stare at the sky. He knew exactly where they were. Have they been watching this whole time?

“Collector,” Were they laughing? “Com’on, kid. What’s up?”

“I don’t know.” His voice shook with an emotion he couldn’t express. “I’m not… I’m free.”

“That’s right. You are free, kid.” She was nice.. Why? “Can I touch you?”

The Collector sat himself on the grass, the other joining. Realizing he never answered her question, The Collector nodded, albeit unsurely. He felt a hand on his shoulder. These people enjoyed touching a lot. 

They weren’t titans, he thought bitterly.

“The others told us that you were in the hallway for a bit. ‘Mind telling me what you were thinking about? They were worried, Collector.” Her voice was soft, almost like the grass he twirled in his hand. Something about it was vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t pinpoint it.

“There was a mirror.. I was– I was in the mirror. I’m not in it anymore.” The Collector couldn’t exactly word it right. It wasn’t just the mirror. It wasn’t just the dark. It was something else, and that something else was hidden behind a blacked-out memory. Some in-between he couldn’t figure out.

Eda nodded, cautiously wrapping her arm around him. It was warm. She was warm. The Collector leaned into her, closing his eyes. “How did it feel?” She asked, words drifting with the open stars that stared into him.

“Tight, and…” His eyes darted around, mouth growing dry. “It was..”

“Take your time,” The lady whispered, holding him tighter. “Just breathe, and let yourself think.”

His chest quivered with shortened breaths, some he overlooked he supposed. The Collector willed himself to steady his breaths, swallowing bitterly. “I… I was back in the tablet when I saw.. I thought I was trapped again.”

Eda looked at them with slightly widened eyes, an expression they weren’t ready for. The Collector averted their eyes, tensing ever so slightly. “I’m sorry.” They mumbled.

“Collector,” Eda’s tone was sharp enough to carry their attention, low enough to not warrant fear. They looked at her with wide eyes. “It’s not your fault. It never will be. It’s not your fault you relived your memories.”

The Collector shook their head. “No, no. I–I don’t know why it happened, but I just… I didn’t mean to–” Their words were failing them quickly, whiplash mentally taxing them.

“Hey, it’s okay. It happens.” Eda held them in her arm, squeezing them slightly. “When bad things happen, they sometimes stick to our heads, and it sucks every time you have to see them happen again. It’s a survival instinct, but honestly, I think it’s a crappy one.” She snorted.

“I–I don’t remember–” The Collector felt a wave of fear through their body, their eyes darting around the outside air. “I was just.. Standing there.-- and, and Hunter-”

The Collector gasped, holding a hand to their mouth. “I yelled at Hunter..” Their breath felt like it was escaping from their body, leaving them devoid of anything. “I–I did something bad, Eda. I w-was..”

Eda slightly pulled away, a hand gently placed on the side of The Collector’s face. “Breathe, kid. It’s okay. No one’s mad, everything is okay.”

“No–No, No!” The Collector cried, curling into themselves with a sob. “I hurt them, Eda! I hurt them again.”

Eda shushed them, returning to an awkward embrace. “It’s going to be okay. It’s alright, Collector. Let it out.”

Their sobs and whimpers came quietly onto Eda’s lap, frustration and grief laying every deep inhale and shaky exhale in their body. Apologetic mutters and soft comforts filled The Collector’s ears. Their body felt static, their brain even more so, buzzing along through rapid thoughts and mental noise that filled their head. They swore, at some point, that they saw themselves crying, heard everything, yet couldn’t feel a speck of it. Fear laced their sobs halfway.

In a blur, The Collector found themselves on a couch, wrapped in a blanket while staring at the ground. Voices chattered around them, a headache forming slowly and strongly. Hunter was beside them, an arm around them while watching them intently.

The Collector felt tears return to his eyes the moment the two made eye contact, Hunter’s eyes widened almost immediately.

“Hey, are you back with me?” He asked genuinely, no hidden anger, nothing.

The Collector couldn’t respond, instead wrapping Hunter in a tight hug. They felt Hunter’s arm reciprocating lightly. 

“It’s not fun…” Hunter began shakily, slightly startling The Collector. “Was this the first time?”

The Collector nodded, keeping their eyes on the ground.

“Yeah,” Hunter breathed out. “It..There’s a bunch of ways to ground yourself when.. You know..” Hunter’s hands picked at the long-sleeved shirt he wore.

“Does it go away?” Their voice cracked, raspy and airy.

Hunter shook his head, silence heavily settling on the two. “It.. It never goes away, but there are ways for them to… not be so frightening.”

The Collector leaned into Hunter, shivering softly. “I don’t want it to come back. I don’t like this.”

“I know..” Hunter covered them more with the blanket. “But, everything’ll be okay. It’ll be hard, very hard, but.. You’re surrounded by good people, people who love you, and that’s how I know it’ll be okay.”

Eda walked in the room, a cup in her hand. “Here.” She spoke to the figure curled in the blanket, “Somehow, it helps a bunch with scary stuff that happens.”

Hunter jumped up, albeit unsure, “A-Actually, the chocolate in hot cocoa produces a chemical known as serotonin in humans and witches, a-and it gives the body feelings of happiness and well-being! There are many other foods like dairy and a fish called ‘sal-man.’”

“It’s ‘salmon,’ Hunter.” Luz chimes in, sitting beside the grimwalker. “Aaand, he’s right! Chocolate is really good to boost your mood a little.”

Hunter rolled his eyes, “I heard people in the human realm talking about it , Luz. I think I know how to pronounce it.”

Luz giggled, “You mean you heard a few tourists from the south say it. You heard a regional dialect, but in Connecticut, we say ‘Sa-mon.’” 

Hunter set down his mug, hands flailing in the air while King and Eda sat by The Collector. “No! It has an ‘L’ in it. You have to pronounce it!”

The Collector giggled softly at the two bickering, Luz’ expression smug against Hunter’s desperate one. They leaned into King, fingers softly stroking through his fur while the two would eventually forget the drink they had long after The Collector finished theirs.