Behind the Scenes Chronicles
This is basically me joking about writing fanfictions. It's fiction about fiction. Fictional fiction. Fiction squared.
It's also me joking about the whole "fangirl" concept.
It's lastly me not taking myself seriously, self-mocking and making fun of it all.
I guess I can only recommend it to OMYIS readers.
Each chapter is taken from OMIYS's existing chapters. In fact, you might recognise the scenes. I just re-worked the prose as my skills have changed since I first posted them. This work will follow the evolution of OMIYS, inside and outside. Both in the storyline and the reception. You'll see what I mean.
IMPORTANT: past tense and present tense here are used promiscuously but with a purpose. Past tense means we're in OMIYS, whereas present tense it's me breaking the fourth wall.
Chapter 1 - In their Shoes
In the late hour of the first day as a fake boy after they left the infirmary in the underground Umbrella facility, Claire's bedroom was imbued in a rosy dim light.
The shape of each furniture piece blurred to blend with the walls, dull pink sparkles glimmered from the sheer curtain of plastic pearls of the walk-in closet entrance, timid moonlight filtered from the window shutters. It all looked cosy and calming, but she couldn't sleep because she couldn't help thinking that this exact same time two days before she was fine.
And she was a girl.
Or better, she looked like the girl she was.
Real Claire lay in her bed with her eyes locked to the faint purple glow reverberation on the ceiling. The flamingo lamp alone was able to turn her comfy room into an oasis of peace, calm and stillness. She always did so when in need of a breather and alone time.
She wasn't much more than a wide-built male human body outstretched on the bed inside a room that anything but belonged to it. It was too manly for that pink hue, too virile for the girlish clothes inside the closet. Her own clothes, her own closet! Still, she couldn't put on any of them anymore!
Every single piece of stuff surrounding her was hers, but it was now to be used by her brother. Clothes, cosmetics, shoes, books, perfumes… they were of no use for her new self.
Tsk! She could hardly imagine Christopher Redfield going around wearing a skirt! Or with glossy lipstick on his lips. He'd become everyone's standing joke! Nevertheless, real Chris now was bound to do so and wear anything feminine there was in that square room, closet included. If not his body, his soul certainly would.
Despite the dreamlike atmosphere, the fake boy wasn't spacing out. She wasn't able to leave that room and go back to times when her body matched her inner gender. Not that she tried though. Real Claire was actually pretty focused on feeling her own heartbeats.
Her heart beat slow but strong.
His heart, actually.
Real Claire lay down with the thick arms resting alongside her bulky torso and her muscular legs slightly splayed like… like a dead body in a morgue. Even though she was careful not to touch any part of her body, she couldn't escape feeling huge. Her feet almost reached the end of the mattress, she could feel it in the blanket stretching above her toes, hardly containing her mass.
Her body had widened but her world had shrinked.
The more room she occupied, the lesser her room looked big.
Starting from her bed, everything seemed smaller since she'd been looking at the world through her brother's very eyes. Although… although the mountain of troubles looming ahead seemed harder and harder to climb with every minute she passed in that new appalling condition.
Nevertheless, she was alive.
Her heartbeats were there to prove it.
Claire grinned a bit at the thought that her real heart was beating as well just on the other side of the wall. Chris was alive too then. That sudden realisation, commonplace as it actually was, stole her the first half-smile in the last twenty-four hours. Chris was safe and sound. As long as both of their hearts kept doing their job, they were both alive.
That's all that mattered at the end of the day – literally.
Real Claire raised one of those big hands and placed it onto her chest, about the height she expected Chris's heart to be pounding. To feel that manly shape under her fingertips still felt strange. With his addiction to working his ass off at the gym, Chris had developed muscles Claire never imagined existed! Damn, how many abs did he even own?! Six pack?! More like dozen pack!
Claire focused on the thrum under her palm. It was steady, so Chris-like! She was worried as fuck, but his heart somehow seemed to still carry that Chris's typical courage and steadiness that always made her feel protected when he was around.
It felt… it felt… uh… it felt…?
"So, how does it feel?" I ask.
Real Claire winces a little as she thrusts her eyes open and glances at my direction. She clearly wasn't expecting me to show up and talk straight to her. Let alone to meet me sitting down legs-crossed onto her bed. I notice a little disappointment in her Chris-sy face.
"Oh, you again…" She mutters.
"In the flesh!" I eagerly nod. "So, tell me Chr- ehm Claire, how does it feel? Your heart, I mean. Is it more like fast and high-pitched like a rifle or low and deep like a cannon-shot on the Queen's birthday?"
"As if I know the difference!" Real Claire scoffs and rolls her eyes.
"Neither do I, that's why I'm asking."
She raises to a sitting position and regards me with a look full of… oh God, is that resentment?
"I know who you are and I don't like you, okay?" She sputters. I clearly must've hurt her. Well, of course I have. But is she entitled to treat me like this?
"You don't have to like me, I'm not here for that. I like you, a lot, and that's why we're all here." I specify. I know, I know, I sound petulant and lecturing but hey, it's my first time! I never dealt with characters before! This is all new for me too! Let's meet in the middle. Is that asking too much?
Allegedly for Claire it is.
She quite angrily moves the blanket aside and climbs off bed and stomps up to her desk. I suppose she just wants to put some space between us. Like she feels robbed of personal space with my unannounced arrival. I can't blame her. I reckon I put her, her brother and everyone she cares the most about into a discomfiting situation. Guess that automatically makes me the bad guy.
In hindsight though, I also created one hell of a house for her to leave in so I'm not that evil, am I? And I put no zombies in the story, so she should be thankful for that too! And, oh good heavens! She'd not even an orphan here! She could've ended up into one of Xaori's Cleon fanfictions and… Jesus, I shudder at the mere thought. The memory still makes my heart ache. I'm surely treating her better. Didn't we all just assess that her heart is still beating both inside and outside her current body after all?
"Listen, Chri-"
"I am Claire!" She yells, turning abruptly in my direction. "I expect at least you to know it!"
I raise my open palms in an apologising manner. "Sorry, I still get confused. You have no idea the number of mistakes I do when writing about you two! You know, pronouns can get really messy when it comes to unmatching genders…"
"I couldn't care less." Real Claire growls as she frowns terribly. It's in moments like this, when I'm standing in front of that God-tier beefcake of Chris's body that I remind myself why I write this story so eagerly.
Claire must've read the underlying giggle on my face as she snorts loudly and disappears in the closet. She doesn't simply want room in between, she hardly even tolerates the sight of me! Can a character be any more upset towards their creato- no, wait, I'm not the creator. Capcom is. Not me. I own nothing. Note to self: I totally have to insert a disclaimer somewhere. I keep forgetting.
"Oh, c'mon Claire-bear…" I say as I crawl out of bed to follow her.
Fake Chris's head peaks through the pearl strings and glares at me all her anger. "Don't call me that. Only Chris can." She growls. "Hey, wh-what are you doing?!"
I quickly raise my eyes off my phone screen and wave a dismissing hand at her direction. "Don't mind me."
Fake Chris steps out of the closet and approaches me in big strides. Damn, did they had to make Chris so tall? It's okay when you have to fight monsters and frighten comrades, but here, there's no point for being this huge! Not that I will change it… Oh, who am I fooling? I can't really complain. He's beefy as fuck.
"What are you doing?" She repeats in her masculine voice.
"Taking notes." I jabber as I keep typing on my phone and take a few steps back towards the bed as a precaution. I love her, I truly adore Claire Redfield but I can't trust her being able to measure her new physical strength. Not at the third chapter, at least!
"I saw you doing it in my Daddy's lab too!" She says pointing a finger at the device in my hands.
"Uh-uh." I absently hum. There. Done. Entry number thirty-three: Chris usually calls her Claire-bear. Usually… How usually? "How often does he call you Claire-bear?" I question. "I haven't heard it yet a single time. Does he do it on a daily basis or is it like an old thing? Like, only when you were kids or even nowadays?"
Fake Chris rolls her eyes and, sighing, she slumps back onto her bed. The poor mattress squeaks in a lamenting manner under her weight. Poor springs!
Real Claire's exhausted.
I guess my presence isn't doing her any good. I hope Real Chris doesn't find out. I still haven't gotten the chance to properly introduce myself to him. He'd freak out if he knows I'm just here to make his sister suffer. And I need all his collaboration in this project. For the sake of everyone.
Real Claire closes her eyes as she lays back. Her sigh sounds like a whimper. "Why is this happening to me?" She reopens her eyes and looks for me. "Hey! Stop it! Stop it now!" She barks as she jolts upwards to snatch the phone off my hands. "Cut me some slack, alright?"
"Okay, okay… cool down, Claire!" I give in, shove the phone into my pocket, show her my innocuous, empty open palms and finally lay down next to her.
We spend an indefinite moment simply staring at the ceiling together. I did a good job with the furbishing around here. What a cute room!
I can't help but inwardly scoff. Tsk, how many people would envy me being in bed with Chris Redfield! Ha ha! I can count a good pair of them between my readers – maybe even the all three of them!
"You're the writer, isn't it?" She asks at some point, rolling into my inner train of thought about how lucky/unlucky she is to be Chris's sister.
"I am."
I feel her grow tense a little bit, but she doesn't take her eyes off the ceiling. Is she lost in thought?
"Can you please reverse this shit?" She asks. Her voice is masculine, it bears that gruff roughness typical of Chris but the tone is so soft it can only be Claire. It's heart-warming to see how real she can be. "Uh?" She questions, urging me to answer.
"I wish I could." I mutter.
"Why? You're the writer! You started all this!" She protests.
"I sure did!"
"Then you can stop it and give me my life back!"
Claire is asking me about things I'm not sure I understood myself in the first place. How am I supposed to tell her what I can't grasp on my own? I'm not as smart as she thinks I am.
"I'm not a god, you know."
"Duh?" She mocks. "You actually are a god here! You created this universe!"
"Maybe." I dismiss it, things are getting too philosophical for the late hour. "I can't just snap my fingers and fulfil your wishes you know?"
"But why?!"
I turn towards her and wait until the fake boy's brown eyes are one with mines. Some say they're supposed to be green, others say they can only be Redfield-blue, but the truth here is Chris's eyes are in the sweetest hazelnut, caramel-streaked colour. Geez, if it suits his complexion!
"I promise, you'll be better." I say. "Nothing lasts forever, not even bad things." Uhm, nice sentence. I hope I'll remember it later. If only I could take note of it now without getting my little girl to freak out! "But if you think I enjoy sitting here and watching you two go through hell, well my dear, you couldn't be more wrong!" Okay, that's not completely true, but she isn't supposed to know, is she? A writer must've her dirty little secrets. "I have a life on my own out there, what do you think? I'm just… imprisoned in this as well as you and Chris are."
"Wait, do you mean…" she gasps, "you can't leave the same universe you created?"
"Not exactly. I physically can." I answer, adjusting my head onto the pillow. Goodness, how fucking handsome Chris is! I clear my throat as I struggle to stay focused on taking care of Claire. "Mentally though... I just won't rest until I've gotten to the bottom of this all. I have to complete the story to be free."
"That sounds sad."
"Well… it kinda is. But trust me, it's a sweet sadness." I reassure her. I reach up with my hand and dare to do what I'd never imagined I'd one day do. I touch her. Him. Whatever. My hand is caressing Redfield material. That's the point. I stroke her stubbled cheek and stretch a smile. "You have to trust me. Like all your other selves did during every single one of my playthroughs of the Remake! I'll get both of you through this. I promise."
Fake Chris smiles faintly and looks down. A nod of her head and I know she believes me.
"You're basically asking me to have faith. Are you aware you do sound like a god? Do ya?" She jokes.
"Oh, please!" I scoff and resume the ceiling sighting. The last thing I want is people worshipping me and starting a religion. What a flawed, imperfect deity I'd be!
"Can you just…" She speaks softly, raising her hazelnut gaze back into mine. "Can you just please don't go too hard on Chris?"
"Do you think I decide what happens to you?" I ask as I raise up and climb out of bed. Fake Chris's eyes follow every one of my moves. "I made up this universe but I don't run things around here. This…" and I gesture at the world surrounding us, "this freakshow moves on its own. I just take notes and maybe put some milestones here and there. Nothing more."
"Nothing less." She points out as I walk up to the bedroom door. The insightful remark catches me with the handle already in my hands, about to exit.
"Yeah… maybe… maybe I am the god around here, indeed." I nod and exhale a silent chuckle. I regard her of one last glance before leaving. "I'll be back to invisible mode now, you keep living your life and don't mind me much. Okay?"
"Are you leaving yet?" Claire asks. "I thought you wanted to know how Chris's heart feels."
"Do I?" I laugh. "Kidding. I felt it on my own when I touched you. Definitely cannon-like."
Claire snorts in restrained hilarity – still not enough to wipe that veil of sadness off her face. Poor huge little thing.
"Alright, see ya, pretty girl." I wave at her. "Goodnight and keep up with the handsomeness."
"Hold up!" She exclaims, stopping me on my way out. "What's your name?"
"Call me Fangirl."
"Well, thank you for the she/her pronouns, Fangirl." Real Claire says, looking at me softly. "I appreciate it. It… means a lot to me right now."
I pull the door to and smile tenderly against the light wood in the desert corridor of the Redfield house, first floor.
"Goodnight, Claire-bear."