(no subject)

[apocalypticduality]

When Sollux got migraines, it tended to be a warning of tragedy on a global scale. He had been on the cusp of one when Dib's home reality had sung its swansong, and now he was getting that same creeping, dreaded sensation up the back of his skull, making his eyes pulse slowly and slow down in his typing.

He and Dib had long since arranged to live in different apartments, but they visited one-another enough that they each had spare keys to the other's place. There were clothes from each of them in each other's laundry, closets and occasionally floors and those few times that Sollux ever got visitors, he'd been asked if there was someone else living there with him. Every time was met with another version of 'nope', often accompanied by variations on 'and it's really none of your fucking business'. After all, Dib didn't live there.

Sometimes, he wished the guy did though.

This was one of those times that he really regretted just setting Dib up elsewhere in his complex. Sollux had tucked his spare key to Dib's place into his pocket while turning off his lights by hand, but he didn't move away from his desk. He'd had to lay his head down on his desk as is vision blurred and doubled, then trebled, and he tried to resist the urge to simply fall to the ground and curl up into the fetal position. His mind was screaming with dying voices that he couldn't place, and his ears were starting to ring. He couldn't even bring himself to open his eyes as he fished for his phone, shakily thumbing the combination in then risking peeking an eye open and feeling like a cold railroad spike had been driven into the socket for his trouble. He hissed and just swiped his thumb across the screen to bring up his voice app, very carefully keeping his voice level as he ordered the phone to call Dib's seldom-used home phone, operated by Eddie; if he couldn't immediately get Dib himself, he knew the AI could.

"Thingth are getting bad again," he hissed, growling at a pulsing thump in the bases of his horns, making them feel as if there were vibrating like tuning forks. He left the message at that, then pushed the button to turn the phone off and forced himself up to go back and hide in the dark catacomb of his bedroom.