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English
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Part 3 of The wombats proudly present...
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Published:
2019-03-02
Words:
571
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
8
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38
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558

Flowerball

Summary:

Like a funeral needs an audience
Like a skeptic needs a church
It's not fun unless it hurts

Notes:

Mildly graphic descriptions of vomit, drinking, and blood so heads up!!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

The cold air nipped lightly at their skin, the wet stains on their cheeks hardly helping. The sticky liquid dripped down their chin as they leaned over the handrail, coating their hands in a sickly green. A few petals had landed at their feet, crumpled and gross.

Any normal passerby would think that the inkling had just picked a flower apart piece by piece, but that wasn't the case. Far from it, actually. The hanahaki disease wasn't unheard of in inkopolis, but it definitely wasn't common. They could count the number of recorded cases on their hands, not including theirs of course.

No one knew. Not Callie, or Marie, or 4 or even 8. Especially not 8. The thought of the other agent finding out their secret caused bile to rise in their throat, the inkling instinctively leaning over the edge of the long bridge in case they threw up once more. Their shoes were already covered in green ink from a few minutes ago, and they really didn't need any more blood on their hands. Literally.

Hammerhead bridge was closed off after everyone relocated to inkopolis square. No one visited the old plaza anymore, what with Sheldon moving and most of the old maps being shut down. The old tower was nothing more than a few scrapes of loose metal now. The shop's windows had been barred, spike had moved along for "business" purposes, and the squid sisters no longer used their old studio. Even the training dojo had been shut, the building now covered in miscellaneous graffiti art from passing cephalopods. The old plaza was practically a ghost town at this point.

But it was still home. And where else do you go to find comfort when there's no one to talk to?

Whenever they were struggling, they always came here. It's where they grew up- where they made friends, started turf, joined the splatoon. It's not easy to just...throw all that away. An abandoned bridge doesn't exactly sound like a place of comfort, but hey, to them it was.

Plus, because it was empty, it meant they could be themselves. No strong, stoic facade. Just them. Plain and simple. When they stood there, looking out into the murky waters of the vast ocean, watching the sun set behind the waves as they sipped on whatever drink they'd grabbed from the local pub before hand, they weren't agent 3. The heroic inkling who'd saved inkopolis from the octarians countless times.

They were nobody.

Just another inkling, heaving their guts out over the railings into the depths below. The two-toned carnation petals covered in clotted, green ink that littered the area they stood were quite grotesque, but no one ever came here, so no one would ever see. No one would ever know. They couldn't risk anyone seeing them like this. Seeing them so weak.

So they didn't. They kept quiet, dismissing all their friend's worried questions with a shake of the head, or a simple shrug. It did the trick, and they'd drop it, realising it was better to leave the agent alone. There was a reason they kept to themselves, of course, but nobody needed to know what it was. Just another thing nobody knew about them.

Their trail of thought was interrupted by a sharp pain in their throat, quickly making its way up to their mouth.

'Welp, here we go again. Thanks a lot, 8.'

Notes:

Tumblr: N-pacers
I've been meaning to write this for far to long, wow. If you liked, feel free to leave a kudos/comment!! Thanks!!

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