Chapter Text
- IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT -
Kinger was certain he had to be hallucinating. He was in the light after all. While he could never remember much when exposed to the vibrant environment of the circus, she was always there; his beloved wife…she was always there. He could hear her voice, her ghost of a touch. It almost felt real.
…But never like this.
No matter how many times Kinger blinked and rubbed his eyes, her form did not waver. She was solid and real, and she looked at him with those gentle and kind eyes he always loved.
Didn't she…Abstract…?
Something about this was—
"Kinger." She called him again as she approached. One of her floating hands hesitated to touch him. Why was she hesitant to touch him? "Talk to me. Is everything okay?"
Was everything okay? Kinger tried really hard to think. Just a moment ago, he was being yelled at by something ungodly. He could still feel the ebbing pain of where his body was constricted…or at least he believed he was.
Something about this…
Think. Think.
Something about this…
Queenie's hand gently touched the side of his face, and Kinger reflexively leaned against it. He closed his eyes, feeling a wave of peace and happiness he had craved for so long. God. He missed her. He missed her so much that it hurt. Something in the very back of his mind screamed at him, but he nudged it away. He didn't want this moment to end.
"I really missed you," Queenie whispered. When Kinger opened his eyes, she looked at him so lovingly, it almost made him melt. "Things haven't been the same here since you left."
"Left…?" Kinger blinked from his loving haze, but he didn't pull away. "I never went anywhere."
"So you haven't." She closed her eyes with what Kinger recognized to be a gesture of a smile. "Kinger. It's about time you joined us, huh?"
Queenie pulled away, and Kinger found himself chasing her hand. She turned and shuffled her way across the checkered floor with Kinger trailing close behind. Kinger couldn't take his eyes off her as she moved with such vibrancy. He was afraid that if he did, she would fade away again.
She led him to the stage, where other familiar shapes had gathered. Kinger stopped in his tracks. Again, he blinked. He was almost certain he was dreaming, but it felt too real to be a dream.
"Kinger! What took you so long?" Wormo lifted a tail with a smile. "Had us worried for a moment that you somehow got lost!"
"We can't even get lost in here," Rattie scoffed. "Even if we did, it's not like—"
"Kinger! If it ain't our good friend! How's it going?" Spike hollered. "Bizco and I were making a bet on how long it would take for you to join us!"
Bizco squinted at Spike. "It was you who made the bet. We don't even have any money to bet. I told you this."
As Spike and Bizco went back and forth, Kinger stood in place, listening to their voices. There was something oddly nostalgic about it…to see everyone gathered in one place. Queenie took his hand again and guided him through the playful group. Each of them smiled at him as he looked at them. They seemed so real. Something…something was…not right—
"So your wife had to be the one to drag you out here, huh?" The familiar voice stopped Kinger's trail of thoughts.
In front of him was an opened toy box as tall as he was. He could see the familiar form of a golden retriever halfway inside, his feet planted at the very edges. His tail was wagging with relentless energy, it was almost comical.
"Scratch?" Kinger apprehensively called.
"Yeah. Hold on." Scratch climbed his way down, and he dusted off his hands. "Couldn't find what I was looking for, but hey. I found you…or well, Queenie found you. We were getting worried you would never join us."
"Join you for what?" Kinger glanced around. He took notice of everyone gathering. Queenie gave his hand a firm and reassuring squeeze.
"Oh, don't play ignorant with us. You're too smart for that, Kinger." Scratch took several steps closer, a smile forming on his face. "I mean, you left us for quite some time. So we were just counting the days when we would see you again. Lo and behold; here you are at last!"
"It simply wasn't the same without you," Rattie chimed.
"I…" Kinger's face twisted. "I'm sorry. I'm a bit lost on what is going on."
"That's fine!" Wormo chuckled. "It has been such a long time, so we didn't expect you to get it right away!"
"Get…what right away?"
"The fact that you are finally joining us!" Bizco beamed. "We were wondering how long we would have to wait!"
"Considering you left us here," Bizco added.
Kinger shook his head. "What are you even talking—"
Queenie took both of his hands into hers and smiled. "It was so sudden for each of us…and you were always there. It was only a matter of time." Her fingers left his, and she shuffled to join the group.
Kinger turned his gaze to the ground. What did he miss out on? He searched his memories, trying to pull answers, but nothing came clear to him. After searching for another minute, he gave up and turned his attention back to his wife. She stood with her back turned to him, along with everyone else. They didn't seem to be having a conversation or anything—
Odd. Where were their shadows? Kinger noticed he was the only one with a shadow. It was as if their models were not…
Their models were not…fully rendered.
Kinger shuffled back.
Something was wrong.
"You're leaving us again." Queenie's voice lacked the warmth it usually had. She said the words as if they were a cold and hard fact, and they somehow stung.
"N-no… I…" Kinger was lying. Why was he lying? "I was only… You said you wanted me to join you…but I am already here. I have always been here."
"That's not what I meant."
Kinger blinked. He didn't understand what else she could be implying…
Her eyes.
She slowly craned her head around, and her eyes were swarmed with rings of shifting colors. Her body trembled and twisted until it split from the inside. Black spilled and crawled, coated with stacks of unblinking eyes.
Kinger jerked back. He almost tripped as he stared at her growing form.
Scratch looked over his shoulder. His eyes were swarmed with the pulsing colors as well. Then Wormo. And Rattie. Spike and Bizco. They all looked at him with those cold and emotionless eyes as their bodies split open. The black ooze twisted and jerked out of their bodies as if they were shells. Eyes upon eyes blinked at Kinger as their bodies grew and grew.
Six Abstracted towered before him.
Kinger moved back, unable to tear his eyes away from their jagged and twisted forms. They did not take as much as a step towards him, but he didn't dare to give them the chance.
He ran.
He didn't have a plan on where he was going, but it didn't matter. Their heavy footsteps trampled the ground behind him. He could hear their distant roaring. Somehow he could tell them apart— Scratch was the angriest.
Kinger darted around the corner and down the room hall. Door after door after door he saw a giant red X painted across a portrait: Scratch, Rattie, Wormo, Bizco, Spike, and Queenie. Ribbit and Kaufmo. Jax, Gangle, Ragatha, Zooble, and Pomni.
Wait. Wait, no. They never Abstracted. Why were their portraits crossed out? No, no, no he would had known had they—
A heavy blow struck Kinger's backside. He hit the ground and tumbled down the hal. His head struck the wall at the very end. He sat up, and the Abstracted crawled down the hall. It was Wormo who hit him. Wormo had the longest tail out of all of the Abstracted. Of course. Of course…
Kinger scooted back, but he could go no further. The Abstracted crept closer, growling. The sounds of static flooded the air, creeping underneath his skin. He always dreaded that sound…that sound he heard time after time after time—
"Kinger…"
Kinger held his breath. The distorted and crackling voice belonged to Scratch. It was muffled and glitched and it sounded so wrong.
"Why did you abandon us, Kinger…?"
Those who Abstracted never talked.
They never talked.
So why now? Why now?
"I…" Kinger struggled to find his words. The Abstracted crept closer, and he felt his entire body go cold. "I… I never…"
"Why is it that the rest of us abstracted, and everyone who came after us, but you are the only one who remains?"
"Scratch, I—"
"Are you trying to prove that you are better than me? Better than us?"
"N-no! I'd never— I…" Kinger winced as one of the Abstracted leaned close to his face. He could feel the static pickling his skin—sharp like the point of knives. Stabbing and stabbing and stabbing.
He knew those eyes. The specific arrangement of eyes. His wife. His beloved wife. His entire world.
She hated him too.
"You never once looked back," she said, her breaking voice layered with heartbreak. "I thought you loved me, Kinger."
"Of course I do!" Kinger argued. "I have always loved you! The day you— I…I didn't know what to do with myself. I…"
"You moved on. You forgot about us."
Kinger recognized that voice. He looked to his right. Ribbit stood there, her eyes pulsing with countless colorful rings. With every step she took, their body twitched. They stared down at Kinger as if he were worth scorn.
"You promised you would take care of us."
"But that never happened." Another voice. Kaufmo. Kinger looked to his left and there he stood. Half of his body had Abstracted, countless eyes staring right at Kinger. "You watched us all deteriorate until we broke."
"And you never looked back." More voices. More Abstracted. "You said you would fix us. Why are we still like this, Kinger? Why have you never come back for us? Why did you forget about us?"
Kinger tried to find words, but his throat was too tight. He couldn't move a muscle. He couldn't breathe.
"Why did you abandon us, Kinger?"
Kinger gripped his head. Words. He needed to find words. Words…! Words…!
Someone stepped forward.
Jax.
He playfully cocked his head as he leaned his weight to one side. An uncanny grin stretched across his face. His eyes danced with those same dreadful pulsing colors as a mad chuckle slipped from his mouth.
"Maybe this was your punishment, old man," Jax said. His grin stretched further, and further, until it started to split the skin. Dark shadows leaked like blood. They spilled down his face, across his chest, swallowing him. "You trapped us all down here…so of course you'll be the last to fall apart."
Kinger couldn't press himself against the wall any further. Jax's body continued to deform as eyes sprouted across his torso.
"This is all your fault, Kinger."
Zooble and Gangle deteriorated before his eyes, transformed into an unrecognizable mass. Ragatha rubbed her deforming arm. She looked at Kinger painfully, her eyes dancing like the others. She was on the verge of tears.
"It hurts so much…!" She dragged her feet as they twisted and bent in unnatural ways. "God, it huuuurts! Make it stop, Kinger! Make it stop! Make it stop, please!"
Kinger's chest heaved, but no air filled his lungs. They surrounded him and crept closer. They were all angry, or heartbroken, or betrayed— Each and every one of them were in so much agony. He couldn't stop it. He couldn't stop it.
He could never stop it.
I'm sorry…!
The Abstracted crept closer, their bodies seemingly merging until a mass of darkness and eyes towered before him.
I'm sorry…! I'm sorry…!
Kinger found the strength to move. It was sharp, sudden. He scrambled to his foot and shot through the mass. Somehow, they didn't stop him, but the cold shudder of the contact made him feel sick.
He sprinted down the hall.
He was abandoning them. Again.
He could hear the chorus of roaring. They were at his tail, stomping down the hall. Kinger didn't know where he was going, but it didn't matter. There was nowhere to hide.
In the living room, the vibrant colors of the furniture had turned gray. The entire circus was being drained of color. He ran and ran and ran, and the floor beneath him started to move backwards. He was pushed back, back towards the Abstracted. He cried out as he clawed at the couch in front of him, but his fingers were ripped free.
He was suspended in the air, floating backwards. Kinger drifted helplessly again, towards the Abstracted. The floor was gone. Nothing but darkness surrounded him, and hundreds of colorful eyes. No matter where he looked, he saw the faces of every single person he let down. Everyone who he failed. Everyone who he left behind.
Please…
They closed in on him. There was no escape.
Please…!
"It's all your fault…"
All of them spoke at once. Bitterness. Resentment. Heartbreak. Hatred.
"All your fault…"
He didn't mean for any of this to happen.
"All your fault… All your fault… All your fault…"
The voices started to overlap. Kinger threw his hands over the side of his head, but it did nothing to silence the noise. Their voices grew louder and louder, pounding into his skull until it was an agonizing cacophony. He closed his eyes, but the Abstracted eyes were still there. He squeezed them shut, but the Abstracted eyes were still there.
"Yourfaultyourfaultyourfaultyourfault…"
Something chilling snatched his hand. It yanked at the other. He pulled and pulled but they pulled back harder. Kinger let out a soundless cry as black tendrils coiled around his body, slimy and cold. No matter how much Kinger squirmed, they did not relent.
They pulled him in. The moment he sunk into the black mass of eyes, terrible, grueling chills and static tore through his body. He couldn't breathe. His entire body blistered painfully. He felt as if he could burst.
It was all he could see. All he could touch. All he could hear.
But he could no longer scream.
Kinger woke up with a start. His eyes flew open, glowing with an array of vibrant and colorful rings.
He still couldn't breathe.