a/n: I REALLY FEEL LIKE I LAZIED OUT BIG TIME ON THIS, I DEFINITELY REGRET NOT WRITING MORE BUT OH WELL, ITS SOMETHING!! I hope you all enjoy wardobe nyaa!!!!! Evil selfcest brrr
CW: there is a graphic scene with brief mention of blood/brains
wc: 1.6k
The hallway was empty when Closet Kit returned.
It usually is. That strange, airless quiet pressed against his ears as he approached the closet door, limbs heavy with the creeping instability of nearing his limit. His steps were subtly uneven, urgency woven into every movement.
Four hours.
The reminder twisted unpleasantly in his stomach. Kit reached for the handle. Paused.
Something felt..Wrong.
A faint prickle crept along his spine. Not a sound. Not movement. Just an indistinct, nauseating wrongness.
His fingers tightened. He pulled the door open.
Someone was inside.
Kit stopped breathing.
A figure sat calmly within the darkness, framed by hanging clothes, posture relaxed, as though this were the most natural place in the world to be.
His face.
His body.
Perfect, exact.
Kit staggered backward with a sharp, strangled gasp, slamming into the hallway wall. His pulse detonated violently in his chest.
“…Who.. Who are you-? And why the hell do you look.. like.. me??”
The words emerged thin, breathless. The practically identical stranger rose with slow, effortless grace. Every movement was almost an exact copy of his own.. yet impossibly smoother, disturbingly elegant.
“mmm.. finally.. finally! I get to meet the true us."
Kit’s throat tightened. “…Back off, dude-!”
The stranger tilted his head slightly.
“How strange."
Another step.
"That you don’t recognize something made entirely for you."
Kit’s pulse spiked.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Kit scowled at him, yet his fear betraying his need to intimidate. The smile softened, accompanied by a soft chuckle.
“What do you think, silly? I was created by none other than Master Mikhail Glossata himself.”
The name struck through Kit’s spine.
“He is very talented.”
Another step closer.
“Very generous.”
Kit pressed into the wall.
“He wished to give form to something exceptional.”
A hand lifted.
Slow. Deliberate.
Kit couldn’t move.
Fingers brushed lightly against his cheek.His entire body went rigid.
“So he made me..”
Kit’s thoughts fractured beneath the unbearable closeness.
“I am a direct clone of your catman form, so the four hour rule doesnt apply to me. I carry no DNA from your true closet body.”
The words barely registered.
“Ah.. You don’t understand yet.” The caress continued. “That’s alright.” “I understand you enough for both of us.”
Kit’s chest tightened.
“I know what you are.”
A whisper.
“I know what you love. I know what you hate. I know what you fear.”
Kit’s breath stuttered.
“I know that humiliating need to be seen as something more.” Kit’s stomach dropped. Wardrobe Nya smiled faintly. “Oh, Kit…”
“No one could ever understand you the way I do.”
His fingers lingered against Kit’s cheek. “After all…"
“I was made from you.”
That was the first visit of Wardobe Nya. The start of it all. The visits became routine. Unavoidable.
Wardrobe Nya appeared without warning, always calm, always close, his presence saturating Kit’s existence with suffocating intimacy. He spoke endlessly while Kit endured.
Fear dulled into chronic dread.
Hatred dulled into exhaustion.
One day, something shifted in Kit. He felt he couldnt bear the intolerable forced rapport.
Wardrobe Nya clung onto kit, so close. Always close.
“You’ve been quieter lately.” Kit said nothing.
“…Kit.”
He pulls back, fingers settled beneath Kit’s chin. Then tightened. Not enough to hurt, enough to stop movement. Kit’s breath hitched sharply.
“I just really can’t understand.” His voice remained gentle.“Why won’t you accept my adoration? My love?”
The grip tightened slightly. He moved his face closer.
“I’ve given you nothing but devotion.” His other hand closed around Kit’s wrist.
Firm.
Unyielding.
“You are my origin.” Kit’s back met the wall, as he crawled closer, his wrist and chin held tight. “So why…”
“…do you recoil from me like something.. repulsive?”
The pressure increased. Calm. Certain. “I exist only to love you.” “…Is my love so unbearable?” Kit trembled violently.
Wardrobe Nya did not blink. His beautiful eyes were wide. Kit stared at him. Mind racing.
Then.. He leaned forward. And this time, Wardrobe Nya froze.
“…Kit?”
Their lips met.
Light. Tentative. Wardrobe Nya’s composure shattered instantly, breath hitching sharply as he kissed back with trembling, desperate intensity. His restraint dissolved completely. Another kiss. And another.
“…Finally… finally..!” Kit’s stomach churned. He despised this. It was disgusting. But he did not pull away. He persisted to end this. His hand moved, gripping his back with one, tangling in his hair, and the other..
it went slow.
Upward.
Then..Yank.
Closet Kit tears the headband from Wardobe Nyas head, blood and bits of his brain splattering everywhere. The sound was wrong. But justified.
Wardrobe Nya stilled. Eyes wide. Confused.
“…Oh.”
His grip slackened. Blood slid down his face. “If it’s you…” A faint, breathless smile."then... this.. is love!” Stillness. Silence. True silence. His body falls back from Kit with a thud.
Kit staggered backward, shaking violently..
then laughing,
breathless relief crashing through him.
Gone. Finally gone!
The air felt lighter. The closet felt larger. For the first time, he did not feel watched. The next day, the hallway was empty. Just like before.
Kit approached the closet. Hands slightly trembling. He could finally reattach in peace, without fear of him being there. He pulled the door open,
the smile plastered on his face dropping, slowly but surely.
Wardrobe Nya sat inside. Smiling.
Kit’s mind went blank. “…Ah.” Wardrobe Nya’s gaze softened with unmistakable warmth.
“You killed me so gently.”
Kit’s blood ran cold. The world seemed to tilt violently sideways. Wardrobe Nya rose slowly. He stepped closer. Kit couldn’t breathe. Wardrobe Nya’s fingers lifted. Rested lightly against his own headband.
“You pulled so suddenly.” A soft, affectionate laugh. “I didn’t even realize what you were doing at first.” Kit’s limbs felt hollow. Wardrobe Nya smiled. Eyes filled with quiet devotion. “But it was you.” Another step forward. “So it didn’t matter.”
His fingers reached forward. Brushed Kit’s cheek. Exactly as before.
“I’m just glad you’re being more honest with your feelings now. Let's not do that anymore, okay?" Wardobe nya widened his eyes, staring deeply at Kit. Kit did not react.
Could not react.
Something inside him simply… collapsed into vast, numb horror. Wardrobe Nya’s smile never wavered, as he gently interlocked fingers with kit, grasping with an unrelenting grip.
