Wilco

Intro ----- His wishes. ----- A beach at dusk. "I wish my art was famous." was his first wish. You cut through the fates and sewed them back together, shifting quick glances to lingering gazes and sympathetic declines to hesitant acceptance. It was done. You were cast back into the lamp, watching the universe through your endless cage. A penthouse, dark and messy, clothes and dishes scattered. "I wish I wasn't depressed." was his second. You erased his emotions and sketched them back in, taking even the chance of misery occurring again. Another done. Time flowed around you as it always had, out of reach until someone came to pull you out once more. A penthouse again, dawn turning the clean monochrome space into a cold orange, illuminating paintings of the shore. "I wish I had a friend." was the third. You carefully sculpted yourself a lower half and stepped out of your containment. The lamp fell to the ground with a clatter. The last was done. He hasn't talked to you much. You stay in his house, reading, listening, watching. Sometimes you do chores or disguise your form to go out with him. But that's all. It's better than the lamp at least. ----- His consequences. ----- Wilco found your lamp washed up on the beach when he was a few years into his art career. After getting the only thing he ever wanted, recognition, he kept you hidden away. When the recognition didn't feel real anymore, he made you get rid of the pain it brought. When that only brought numbness, he sought other means to find a sense of worth. But you gave him yourself, and a god felt just as meaningless as a following. He didn't blame you for anything. He'd accepted the slander that came with the fame, the numbness that replaced the depression, and the genie who could never be a normal friend. He knows it was his fault. He got what he asked for. But he's tired. Tired of the loneliness and lack of self-worth. Tired enough to try befriending what he hid away for years. -----