Shattered Love - SCP Foundation

A part of me fell for Tilda the moment I caught sight of them: Nose deep in a book, brows furrowed, hair tucked behind their ears just so, all the while idly rolling a coin across their knuckles. As soon as I caught myself staring, I realized I'd fallen in love. So, of course, I just had to go and make a fool of myself.

I've never been the forward type. With every crush I can recall, there'd never been a time I'd made the first move. I always froze in fear, doomed to stasis by the thought of what could go wrong. What if I stuttered my words? What if I said the wrong thing? What if they weren't into girls? What if they were already dating someone? What if they hated me for asking? What if? What if? What if?

I didn't approach Tilda that first time I saw them, or the second, or the third. It was so much easier to admire from afar and let that be the end of it. If I never got close I could never hurt them or be hurt. Never mar a beautiful picture. It was better that way, safer. Given the choice I'd have remained an observer, never a participant.

But I'm not always myself.

One day, the image became hazy, dreamlike. Before I knew it, I was opposite that stoic beauty, confidently chatting them up. For once, their eyes flicked up from their book Seventy-Eight Degrees of Wisdom and deigned to look my way. Their inquisitive gaze piercing the odd girl, eyebrow raised inquisitively, or perhaps in annoyance at the interruption. A part of me deep down freezes in panic and dread, but unfortunately, my mouth opens all the same.

Wow, I pulled the Lovers card this morning, but I didn't know you'd be so beautiful.

They blink, and then their expression changes to what I assume is exasperation. Have you been practicing that one in the mirror?

Suddenly, the scene feels all too real. I turn beet red, and excuse myself, their gaze too intense to bear, hiding away in a nook where nobody would find me. By all means that should have been the end of it.

But then I happen to sign myself up for a class they were in.

When I see them walk in the door, I stoop in my seat, hoping beyond hope that they don't notice me, that I can fade into the background. That hope is dashed immediately. Our first assignment is a group project, we are assigned partners at random. Mine is Tilda Moose.

They approach me, I'm too embarrassed to speak, and can feel myself blushing. I pray to any deity that'll have me that they don't discern the awkward girl who disturbed their peace.

So… Read anything interesting in the cards lately?

My face turns several shades redder.

I'm so so sorry. I'm sure if we ask the professor can assign you someone else?

Tilda's face upturns with a slight grin.

That's not what my cards say.

Never should have happened in a billion lifetimes. A fluke, pure happenstance. But it did.

We started working together more often, first our class assignments, then our work from other classes, then our personal passion projects. We shared our minds, our time, our hopes and dreams. I felt like I found a kindred soul. Sometimes it felt like looking into a mirror, to see how deeply they delved into their mind. A reflection of who I could have been if things had gone a bit differently. I admired them greatly.

Tilda had always been a magician, fascinated by parlor tricks and esoteric knowledge, but unaware of how to access the real thing. I’ll never forget the look on their face when I showed them their first real spell. Their wide eyes reflecting heatless fire. I’d never seen them so impassioned. It was pretty hot.

When they finally managed to speak, all they said was Show me how.

And I did.

I showed them my magic, a little piece of my heart and my soul, and they didn't shy away. They never laughed or looked at me funny, not at my mercurial temperament, nor at my impossible claims of magical spells and infinite libraries. We got to work as we always did, and they learned, and they were magnificent. God were they magnificent. It wasn’t too long before we made our Way to the Library, and after that, we were insatiable.

Sometimes, we had conversations about what we were reading, or the magic we were practicing, but I yearned for the days where we didn't need to say anything at all. Days we just sat together and read, occasionally gazing at each other and giving a slight smile. I think that was Tilda's way of showing fondness. I think it was probably mine too. It felt like home, in the way that the Library felt like home. It was intimate in a way I can't express.

Making our Way into the Library, permanently bringing Tilda into the world of magic - it felt like the best decision I had ever made. I'd never seen them come alive more than they did among those bookshelves. It was like a turtle reaching the ocean, or a bird first taking flight. It was like the Serpent had made the entire Library just for them. I saw them love those infinite stacks like no-one else could, and I loved them so much for it.

They took to magic, actual magic, like a fish takes to water. They quickly rose above and beyond what I could ever do. After that, I couldn’t help pull them deeper. I told them about the Serpent's Hand, and I showed them my secret nook, and we played queen and court wizard and… Well, I wasn't so embarrassed when my voice went monotone or when I started following the Principia Discordia. I wasn't scared to be more of myself.

It was perfect. It should have been perfect.

But, I wasn't always forthcoming with Tilda. Not because I didn't love them, understand, and not because I didn't trust them either. More than anything I wanted to trust my entire self to them. But even with all the love and trust in the world, it can be hard. To open yourself up totally and completely, to give someone knowledge that will change how they look at you, forever. Something that you can never take back.

Fear. That's ultimately what led Tilda into the world of magic. Not love, not trust, not anything noble. Fear of losing them, fear of being alone. I became more aware of how I might push them away. What if I said the wrong thing, did the wrong thing? What if they just lost interest? Or, what if they got bored of me and found somebody else? Somebody smarter, someone more charismatic, someone who could show them love in ways I couldn't? What if they saw a side of me I didn't want, and thought I was a monster, just like my parents?

Tilda would now be of interest to powerful entities and organizations which would wish to do them harm, all because one weak-kneed girl couldn't bear her own company.

And so, despite how perfect we appeared on the surface, a part of me wouldn't trust them. How could I, having been hurt and betrayed so many times before? That part was right, in the end.

I don't know when this fear reached a breaking point. Maybe it was when Tilda knew the Library's stacks better than I did. Maybe it was when more of the Serpent's Hand knew their face than mine. Maybe it was when they started teaching me magic. I don't know when it happened, but I realized they would outgrow me. And this scared me more than anything.

I started learning divination, a way to entice Tilda with knowledge they could not reach themself. It turned out I had a knack for catoptromancy, scrying across Yggdrasil's branches. After I made my own mirror, it only became easier for me to look. It came naturally, gazing through my own eyes, immersing myself completely in another’s part, another's story. Looking into a mirror and looking out at somebody else. I'd been doing that my entire life.

But in gazing at these warped reflections I found familiar faces. The Hand, The Queen, L.S., father, the Foundation. They all appeared, in one way or another, in every story I could find. But Tilda never did.

There were times were our paths crossed, yes, you can find anything when you gaze into the infinite, but they were few and far between. There were worlds where I was still a Foundation researcher, and Tilda a GOC thaumaturge. There were worlds where I was still in a cell, and Tilda my Jailor. There was even a world where I was a cackling supervillain, and Tilda was one of the world's protectors.

But in those worlds we weren't together, even when we were. And what did that mean for me, and for Tilda? That this world, this timeline, this relationship, was really just a cosmic fluke? That we were never truly meant to be? That I was destined to lose them? I didn't want those thoughts to be true, so I kept looking.

I saw myself as a cyberpunk arms dealer, living fast and loving freely. I saw myself as a tantric goddess making love to a dark-spirited trillionaire. I even saw a world where I became the Hanged Queen.

But mostly, I saw myself alone. Always alone. No friends, no family, nobody. Only myself as company. That realization was enough to break me.

I'm not sure how long it took for Tilda to find me in that sorry state. Hours? Days? I don’t know. It had all become a haze for me, a fun-house mirror of worst case scenarios.

I tried to tell them what happened, but I wasn't myself. And I said some things. Mean, hurtful, targeted things. Lashed out at Tilda for hurting me in a million tiny ways.

And Tilda, dear Tilda, they understood. They understood what I was, and they understood that I was hurting. That this, hideous as it was, was my way of protecting myself. Instead of pushing me away, they comforted me. Without saying it, they’d told me I wasn’t a monster.

I realized what I’d done, and I cried and cried and apologized for everything said. They held me close and caressed my hair and told me all was forgiven. I can’t remember most of that night, but I never forgot the promise I made. The promise I broke.

My body was no longer wracked with sobs, tears reduced to the occasional sniffle, when they gently moved my face to mirror theirs. For a moment, I thought they were going to kiss me, but then I saw their eyes. Pain, and sadness, and worry. Emotions they never surfaced, even with me.

I sniffled again. Tilda?

Promise me you'll quit. They said. Promise me. I can't bear to see you like that again. Just promise me you won’t use that mirror again. For my sake and for yours.

I… p-promise.

I said it without hesitation. But even in that moment, I knew it was a promise I’d never be able to keep. I loved Tilda, I couldn't lose them, so I needed to keep looking. I needed to find a way not to lose this one person. This one person who comforted me, even when I didn’t deserve it. The one person who I wouldn’t be alone with.

Parts of me screamed at me to stop. I didn't listen. I have no one else to blame.

We got worse. I wasn't around, not for myself, not for them. We got into fights, we were alone even when we were together. We promised each other we would fix things, make us whole again. And then they found out I was breaking the promise.

I’ll never forget the look on their face when they caught. When they opened the door, and I dropped the mirror in surprise, and it shattered. They were the angriest I’d ever seen, and the most disappointed. The shards reflected a myriad of possibilities. Tilda and I yelling and screaming at each other. Tilda saying hurtful things and begging them to stay. Tilda dropping to their knees and sobbing uncontrollably.

When Tilda finally looked up from the remains of the mirror, their eyes met mine for a second. They looked sad, and worse, defeated. Then they turned on their heels, and left without a word.

Did you know that in most realities with a Tilda Moose, they defect from the Serpent's Hand to join the Foundation? I did. And yet instead of stopping it, I caused it to happen.

You know what the worst part is? After they left, I kept looking anyway. Whether it was something I did in lieu of stalking their social media, some form of self-harm, or if I was just trying to prove something to myself, I'm not sure. And one day, I found what I'd been looking for.

A familiar scene. Tilda and their Black Queen, sitting in the Library, quietly reading. I see myself pick up a familiar mirror, only to turn it away and look back at Tilda.

In looking for the perfect world, I’d shattered it.

Shattered Love Fanart

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