Falling into the eternal darkness.

There's no thoughts, pressure, feeling or emotion. The cold and the heat are interchangeable, neither fully brushing your skin. A feeling of floating, as if you're just barely not reaching the floor. There is no movement while you're in constant motion. It's comforting. It's terrifying. It's neither and both. It's a contradiction borne from nothing, continuing to something, starting in void, ending in oblivion.

This isn't what you want. This isn't what I want. This isn't what anyone wants.

Not even a nobody would accept this situation that they're in. That nobody would struggle 'till the last breath. A nobody has nothing to lose and everything to gain. Maybe there's just one more shot if you reach for that glimmer of hope beyond the great and vast emptiness. One more chance. A nobody would need just [i]one more chance[/i].

The nobody wishes for it. That call for power and autonomy, no matter how small the chance their voice be heard. It's not even a wish, more like a demand, damned be that a nobody would resign themselves to nothing. The voice does not reverberate, but a voice comes back still.

Stability. Footing. A chance. The nobody feels it- feels [i]them[/i]. The footsteps carrying them forward. The only things binding them between This and That.

Step. [i]Step.[/i] [i][b]Step.[/b][/i]