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2021-05-05
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2021-05-05
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Let's Go to the Graveyard

Summary:

The Hatzgang go too far with bullying Skid and Pump, thinking it'd be funny to bury the kids in a makeshift coffin and leave them there for a while.

Chapter 1

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Skid took slow, even breaths. This wasn't anything he couldn't handle. It was dark, but if he closed his eyes, then he couldn't even tell! And as long as he laid perfectly still, he could almost forget about how little space he actually had to move around in.

Almost.

Pump's ragged breathing caught his attention and he tried not to let it frustrate him. Keeping his eyes closed tight, Skid slid his left hand across the rough wood and bumped Pump's calf. He swatted at it lightly, letting the other know of his irritation.

The harsh breathing suddenly became much quieter, and Skid sighed in relief. He felt like his sanity was hanging on by a thread, like any small thing would be enough to send him over.

It was rare that Skid had ever heard true silence before. There was always some kind of noise happening around him, whether it was his mom talking, or traffic driving by, or even birds or wind. But this? This was oppressive, felt like it was pressing into his ears and causing pressure deep in his skull. He hated it.

But he and Pump had nothing else to talk about. So they had decided to focus on keeping calm and not talking too much while they waited for help to arrive.

Looking back, Skid was kicking himself for not insisting that they get out of there. It was completely his fault. He had suggested they go to the graveyard to play, and Pump was quick to agree. When they had gotten there, they had run into the Hatzgang, who had immediately been drawn to the boys, taunting and pushing them around while Skid and Pump did their best not to let it get to them. The kids didn't think much of it at the time, and just decided they'd wait out the bullying until the older boys got bored and left so they could play in the graveyard as planned.

The teenagers had different plans.

Skid heard Pump's breathing get heavier again, and Skid shifted a little in frustration. He was frustrated with himself for getting them into this situation, and with the Hatzgang for going so far. He wasn't frustrated with Pump, not at all, but any little thing seemed to nearly set Skid off while they waited in their makeshift coffin for help to arrive.

As Skid adjusted his position, he ended up feeling the sides of the box press against his right shoulder and the top of his head. He froze, letting himself go limp before he could even think about panicking.

The walls weren't closing in. They were just as small as they were a few minutes ago. Just breathe…

Pump, on the other hand, was fidgeting anxiously. He had brought his hands together, wringing them tightly and feeling a strike of anxiety when his knuckles would brush the lid of the box. He kept squinting, blinking rapidly, trying to see anything through the darkness. But nothing ever came into focus.

He wanted to talk to Skid. He wanted to pass the time without being hyper-aware of every passing second. But Skid didn't want to talk anymore. They had talked at first about how they'd pay back the bullies for doing this. For locking them both in this too-small, wooden box and dropping them into an open grave.

Pump vividly remembered hearing Roy's cackling laughter as shovel-fuls of dirt pattered down on top of their coffin. He thought it would have been a joke. Just another mean prank the Hatzgang did, that he and Skid would have forgotten about by the end of the day. But soon, the sound of the dirt became farther and farther away, until Pump couldn't hear anything above them at all.

Shortly after, Skid didn't want to talk to him anymore.

That's when the silence had first begun.

He peered down at where he knew his hands were, locked in place over his stomach, and tried wiggling his fingers, trying to see the movement. But there was nothing. He took a shaky breath and squeezed his hands together again.

Nothing could be seen or heard in their wooden prison. Nothing but darkness and silence. The kind that felt like it was swallowing you whole. Pump heard Skid shift a little, and his mind was quickly drawn to the sound. Fabric on wood, such a soft sound. But for Pump, it was so loud, it had nearly startled him.

Skid went still, and the silence began again.

Pump wasn't sure how long they had been down here. It felt like hours, but for all he knew, it could have only been a few minutes. He and Skid had tried pushing on the lid of the box at first, between their forcefully casual chatting. They found out quickly that Skid couldn't push on the lid without his breathing hitching and turning into raspy gasps. Pump had tried to ask him what was wrong, but Skid refused to tell him. He had mumbled something about the walls getting closer, but that didn't make any sense. So Pump had tried to push the box open by himself. Clearly, it hadn't worked, and he had eventually given up. They'd just have to wait for the bullies to return, or for someone else to rescue them.

Pump groaned softly, wincing at how loud it actually was, and tried adjusting his position. He wasn't nearly as antsy as Skid, but he certainly wasn't a fan of how little space they had to move in. It didn't help that the box was already very small, and yet he and Skid had to share it.

Skid moved again, and Pump felt the need to squirm building up inside himself too. He took a deep, shaky breath to try to fight it and keep still.

Skid listened to Pump's ragged breathing and kept his palms pressed to the bottom of the box, trying to ignore how clammy his hands felt inside their gloves. The box had been getting progressively warmer, and Skid was officially permanently uncomfortable now.

He compared it to when he and Lila—and sometimes Pump—would make blanket forts. After a while, it would get warm and stuffy, and Lila would open the fort to let in some fresh air. Skid dug his fingertips into the wood, eyes squeezed shut as he took slow, even breaths through his nose and tried to imagine himself in a warm blanket fort with Pump.

It only worked for a few moments. With both of them breathing in the small space, the air was getting even stuffier by the minute, and Skid desperately wished he could open it just for a moment to get a breath of fresh air. He opened his mouth to take in a bigger breath, and felt a sudden swell of dizziness that had him gritting his teeth.

"S…Skid?"

Skid flinched, his frustration flaring again. He fought it back, taking a second to calm himself before he answered breathily, "Yeah?"

Pump took a few heavy breaths. "How much longer?"

"I don't know." His tone was clipped, and he felt how Pump shrunk back a bit and went quiet. He suddenly felt guilty. "Uh, I mean…" he sighed, trying to think. "Not too much longer… I hope."

Pump stayed quiet, other than his quickening breaths.

Skid was about to ask him to calm his breathing again, when Pump suddenly took a shuddering, hiccup-y breath that immediately made Skid concerned for his friend.

"Skid, I'm scared…" Pump whimpered, and Skid felt movement as Pump tried to adjust his position. He winced when he heard Pump's knee thump against the lid, followed by a ragged sob. Skid blindly reached out, finding Pump's ankle and patting it, he hoped, in a reassuring way.

Pump continued to gasp for breath, twisting as much as he could within the confined space, and began to cry.

Skid couldn't take it, hearing his best friend in the whole world cry. Skid blamed himself for getting them into this. Maybe he could get them out too?

With a deep breath, Skid gathered all his courage and pushed both arms into the lid of the box. When it didn't budge, his panic nearly swallowed him, but he struggled to fight it down.

He grunted as he pushed with all his strength. It didn't budge whatsoever.

Skid lasted a few more seconds, but then he couldn't fight back his panic anymore. The air suddenly became too thick to breathe in, and he gasped for air as he felt the world crumbling around him and pressing down on him from everywhere. He threw his arms out to the sides, shoved them against each side of the box, and felt his panic get worse when he couldn't even extend his arms all the way out. His back was pressed onto the bottom of the box, the top of his mask grazed another side of the box, and when he kicked out lightly, he could feel the opposite end with his toes. He whimpered, loudly.

He had to get out. He had to get out right NOW.

Skid kicked hard, not even feeling it when he slammed his knee into the lid of the box. He brought up his elbows and pressed them into the lid, pushing with his elbows and knees with all his might. Every second that the lid remained firmly shut, every moment Skid couldn't move, made it harder and harder to breathe.

He thrashed, trying to turn over, trying to push on the lid with his shoulder, with his arms, with his head.

The lid remained firmly shut.

Skid sobbed harder.

Pump was frozen, having pressed himself back against his side of the box, trying to avoid Skid's panicked kicking and flailing. Pump's eyes were wide but unseeing, and he felt heat building behind them as he listened to Skid fight through whatever he was dealing with, feeling utterly helpless.

Skid eventually stopped thrashing, and Pump's chest ached at Skid's broken cries.

Skid did have a point though, Pump told himself. Pump desperately wanted to do the same, to try breaking free, try pressing on the lid again and trying to force it open. But he had already given it everything he had, and nothing had happened.

The air was becoming much, much harder to breathe in, and neither of them could get enough air from just breathing through their nose. Pump opened his mouth and panted. There was a small relief to his dizziness, but it returned just as quickly, pounding directly into his brain.

Skid had managed to roll onto his side and had gone still, panting hard, and Pump ventured a hand out toward Skid. The other boy flinched when Pump's hand landed on his leg, and Pump uttered a guilty, "…sorry…" He really didn't mean to make Skid panic so badly.

Skid went to shake his head, but his body felt much too heavy, so he just reached down and patted Pump's hand where it rested on his leg instead.

Each breath Skid took didn't feel like a breath at all. He could feel his lungs expanding, but the air was so warm and humid, he could have sworn that he wasn't actually breathing at all. His lungs burned, his body ached, and his brain continued to fog over, making him dizzier and dizzier even though he was pressed into the floor. He felt nauseous.

Skid's feet had gone numb, though he wasn't really sure when that had happened, and his fingertips were cold and tingly.

He tried flexing them, but in the darkness, he couldn't see if they actually moved.

Just like his breaths, he wasn't sure if he had done anything at all.

He was waiting for…something…

Right?

Waiting…?

What was he waiting for?

His mom?

"Skid…"

No, he wasn't waiting for Skid. He was Skid.

Or…he thought he was…

…he was so tired…

…

A few seconds passed and Pump didn't get a response. "Skid," he tried again, shaking his friend to try to get his attention, but was met with silence. Pump's breathing was shallow and fast. He was incredibly lightheaded, but he was still hanging in there.

Skid wasn't responding, and Pump knew he should be afraid, but he mostly just felt exhausted. If Skid was taking a nap, that didn't sound like such a bad idea.

Pump shifted a little, attempting to turn onto his side too, and his knee bumped Skid's hand. It felt chilled, even through Pump's costume. He frowned. Was Skid cold? The box was so warm though, how could he be cold? Pump tried to scoot lower in the box so he could try to see if Skid's hands really were cold, but when he tried to reach out, he found that his own hands were cold as well. Cold and stiff, and they were struggling to obey him.

He whined softly, the only noise within their small prison, and gave up trying to search for Skid's hands. Instead, he let his hand rest on Skid's knee again as he slumped heavily back, numbly feeling his head thump down onto the wood. He wished he could take off his pumpkin mask, the fabric feeling suffocating against his face. But there wasn't enough room to do so. He couldn't even roll onto his side like Skid, since he was a bit broader than him.

Uncomfortable and scared and inexplicably cold, Pump laid on his back and let his thoughts wander.

He felt his eyes blinking, but the piercing darkness remained. His lungs were screaming for air, and even though he was gasping in quick breaths, it didn't seem to be enough.

A deep coldness swept through Pump and he shivered despite the suffocating heat within the box. He let his eyes close, thinking he'd follow Skid's lead and take a quick nap.

Pump's mind almost immediately began to swim away from him, and he had to fight to bring it back when he was suddenly aware of a new noise.

A faint scraping sound, directly in front of him. Above the box.

Hope sprung to life in Pump's chest, and he took a few deep, gasping breaths to try to wake himself up more. All it did was make him even dizzier.

Muffled noises, scraping, and distantly…voices?

Pump squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus on the sounds. He could have sworn he heard voices.

The scraping got louder and louder.

Pump was startled by a loud thunk on the lid of the box.

He definitely heard voices. They were warbled and muffled, and the ringing in Pump's ears wasn't helping any, but he knew they were voices.

Help had arrived.

"Skid," Pump wheezed, wincing and forcing cold, numb fingers to squeeze Skid's motionless leg. "Skid, they're here…"

Pump could hear the voices rising in pitch, talking quickly. Multiple voices.

More scrapes on the lid of the box.

But no fresh air. No light.

Pump panted harder, wondering why they weren't opening the box.

He brought up his other hand, heavy and exhausted, and pressed it to the lid. His last remnants of energy were sapping away quickly.

"H…help us," he gasped, using all his strength to keep his hand against the lid. As his brain began to drag him under and he felt his hand fall limp onto his chest, he managed to whisper, "…hurry."

And then he was gone.

Notes:

They're not dead! I repeat, they are NOT dead, Skid just passed out from his panic attack, and Pump passed out from lack of oxygen. They're being rescued though, they will NOT die!

Chapter 2

Summary:

A glimpse into how the Hatzgang is feeling about what they've done, and then we find out who exactly rescues the spooky bois!

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Ross stole another glance over his shoulder. It was the third time within a few minutes he had done so, and Roy was getting fed up.

"What do you keep looking at?" He snapped, but Ross shook his head, mouth shut tight. He knew he shouldn't care this much. But something felt wrong about leaving those kids buried in the cemetery like that.

Prepping the whole prank was fun, Ross admitted. Finding a secluded area in the graveyard to dig a three-foot deep hole—just deep enough to fit the wooden box that Robert had made in his woodwork class—waiting for the kids to inevitably show up at the cemetery and then corralling them toward the hole they had dug… Ross got a kick out of it! It was harmless fun.

But then Roy had grabbed the pumpkin kid and hauled him to the box, and the skeleton kid ran after them, shouting to let him go. Ross had felt the first flicker of doubt when he saw genuine tears in the pumpkin kid's eyes. Roy had snapped at Ross to help, and he had to shake himself out of it, grabbing the skeleton kid and wrestling him into the box next to the first one. It was a tight fit, and they had to make the kids lay opposite ways, but they managed to get it to work. Robert slammed the lid onto his makeshift coffin, and the kids' cries had instantly become muffled.

Roy had sat on the lid to hold it closed while Robert sealed it up. Ross stood to the side and fidgeted anxiously. He remembered looking at the hole in the ground. "Are you sure it's safe?"

"Psh, what do you take me for?" Roy had scoffed, crossing his arms. "As long as no dirt gets in, they'll be fine."

Ross really wasn't sure, but he didn't know anything about burying things. Roy said he had done this plenty of times with small animals in the past, so he trusted Roy's experience.

Soon the box was completely nailed shut, and Ross had stepped forward to help them lift it into the mini-grave. He could hear thumping and muffled voices from inside the box, and while that twisted at his conscience, he still helped them lower it in, and cover it with dirt. When the box was buried, he couldn't hear the kids at all anymore.

For some reason, that abrupt silence was haunting him.

Now, Ross couldn't help but glance toward the graveyard every time his conscience tugged at him, much to Roy's frustration.

"Won't they suffocate?" Ross suddenly asked, looking between both his friends for an answer. Roy groaned loudly.

"I told you, as long as no dirt gets in, there won't be a problem. There's air in the box, so as long as they have air, they're fine!" He nudged Robert with his elbow. "'Sides, we sealed it up nice and tight. No dirt will be getting in."

Robert gave a forced smile, but when Roy turned away, Robert met Ross's anxious gaze with an unsure expression. Neither said anything.

They were planning on leaving the kids in the ground for about an hour to give them a good scare, and since just under half an hour had already passed, they had some time to kill before they had to be back. The sun was starting to go down, and they knew most places would be closed soon.

As they walked, trying to come up with someplace to go for the next thirty minutes, they saw Kevin walking the opposite way, a dark jacket covering his candy uniform, but with the stupid hat still on his head.

Kevin was exhausted. He had had a long day at work, having to pull a double shift, and was looking forward to getting home so he could sleep.

"Hey," Kevin tiredly greeted the teen trio as they approached one another. He was a bit older than them, but he was familiar with almost all the kids in town, even if he didn't know all their names. He could at least recognize their faces. Working at a candy shop had its perks.

"Hey," Robert greeted back, the only one of the three to respond.

Kevin slowed down with a frown and looked at Roy, the usual speaker of their group, but he seemed distracted and had a huge grin on his face. Kevin's eyebrow rose and he stopped walking, feeling suspicious of that look. "What's got you in such a good mood?"

Roy grinned wider. "Oh, you know. Just some buried thoughts."

Kevin froze, then quickly stepped in front of them, halting the Hatzgang as well. He wasn't friends with the three teens, but he knew that Roy never spoke cryptically like that. He always said exactly what was on his mind, with no filter. Something was nagging Kevin to ask about it, but he wasn't sure if he really wanted to open that can of worms. He debated with himself if it would even be worth it to get involved. After all, he'd much rather sleep.

But the wide-eyed, guilty expressions from the other two teens were what made him speak up, addressing mostly them. "Buried thoughts, eh? What does that mean?"

The two taller teens quickly looked away, while the shortest cackled. Kevin's unease grew. "Nothing but a dirt-y prank," Roy managed to wheeze out between hearty laughs.

Kevin frowned deeply and stepped past Roy toward the other two, keeping his tone calm but firm, using his 'adult' voice to get them to answer him. "What's going on?"

Ross bit his lip hard enough to taste copper. Robert kept his gaze averted, glancing to Roy every few seconds like he wanted Roy to jump in. Ross knew if he said anything to an adult, Roy would be pissed. But at the same time, his conscience was killing him.

Ross gave Roy a quick, apologetic look, then forced himself to look at Kevin. "We uh…we pulled a prank on some kids." Kevin gave a short nod, urging him to continue, and Ross went on slowly, "Well, we sorta…buried them."

Kevin stiffened, eyes darting to the side as he tried to think. "Where?"

"The…" Roy caught Ross's attention and gave him a disgusted, disbelieving scowl. Ross ignored him and answered, "The graveyard."

Kevin's eyes widened, and he snatched Ross by the wrist, tugging him in the direction of the cemetery. "Show me," he insisted. Ross nodded, and the other two teens reluctantly followed.

Roy was grumbling the whole time, but Ross didn't care. His conscience was feeling better now that he had an adult on his side, one who seemed to be taking it as seriously as Ross was.

Ross led Kevin to the mound of upturned dirt in the back corner of the field, and the young adult paled. He found the two shovels the teens had used lying nearby, and shoved one into Ross's hands without a word while keeping the other for himself. Ross heard Roy and Robert approach and watch quietly as he and Kevin began to dig.

A sick feeling welled up in Ross when the reality of what they'd done began to sink in. These were kids. Sure, kids who liked Halloween and scary things, but they were really young. Ross wasn't a fan of small, tight spaces. And yet he had a hand in forcing that on someone else.

No, two someone elses.

Robert came to stand next to Ross, peering down into the hole. For some reason, it felt deeper now than it did the first time. Roy remained a distance away, but kept watching.

Finally, Kevin's shovel thunked when it hit the wood, and Robert was immediately on his knees in the hole, helping uncover the box as Ross and Kevin continued to shovel out the dirt.

"You actually buried some kids…" Kevin mumbled to himself, winded from exertion but refusing to slow down. "I thought maybe you were pranking me."

Robert winced, and Ross looked down guiltily as they all ditched the shovels and knelt in the dirt, trying to dislodge the box so they could lift it out of the small hole. "It was only going to be for an hour," Ross said in a small voice, as though that would make it less awful.

Kevin gaped. "An- Did you say an hour?!" He looked down at the box in horror, and stopped trying to fully un-bury it. Instead, he dug his fingers under the lid, trying to pry it off as fast as he could.

Ross quickly clarified, "No, it hasn't been an hour yet. Just…maybe half an hour?" He glanced at his watch and winced. "Forty-two minutes…?"

Kevin ignored him. "Get this off," he snapped at them when no one seemed to be helping with the lid.

Robert was pale, with horror in his voice. "I nailed it closed…"

"Well, un-nail it! Where's the hammer? Give it to me," Kevin demanded, and snatched it when Ross shakily handed it to him. He jammed the back of it between the lid and the rest of the box, and gave a rough twist. The nails creaked, but the lid stayed firmly on. Kevin moved to another side of the box and repeated it, slamming the back of the hammer into the seam and wrenching. This time, a corner of the lid was pried up, and Kevin winced when the box made a quick hiss as fresh air rushed inside. "Fuck…" his breathing quickened. Were they too late? He almost didn't want to know.

He did it again on the third side, and dug his fingers into the small opening, pulling up with all his strength and mentally cheering when the lid slowly peeled away, the nails squeaking as they were pried out of the wood.

Kevin tossed the lid away and finally peered into the box. The sky was getting darker, but there were a few lampposts throughout the cemetery that helped Kevin identify the two kids immediately.

His heart sank.

In the box were the rambunctious kids who insisted every day was Halloween, and who were known to wear their costumes at all times during the year.

The ones who always asked for candy cans, and who Kevin was too soft to refuse.

The energetic, lively spooky kids.

But neither one was moving.

Kevin couldn't move either. Couldn't even breathe. His thoughts began to race.

Ross leaned in, feeling his heartbeat pounding in his chest. The two kids were completely still, their faces blank as they laid limply at the bottom of the box. Ross felt a lump in his throat when he saw that the pumpkin kid was holding onto the skeleton one, as if he had reached out for him before…

Guilt and panic rose quickly within Ross, and he wanted to run away or throw up or pretend like this wasn't happening. That he didn't have a hand in ki… didn't have a hand in hurting these kids.

Despite his panic, he couldn't look away. And it was because of that, that he noticed the pumpkin kid's expression twitch ever so slightly. Ross gasped and leaned in closer.

Sure enough, the kid's face tightened again, and his chest rose and fell in a quick, gasping breath.

The sound startled Kevin, who had been staring off at nothing. His panicked thoughts trying to think of what to do with the bodies. Bring them to a hospital? Or a morgue? Or just…re-bury them? He felt sick.

But with the soft gasping sound, Kevin's plans abruptly changed.

He gasped himself, and quickly gathered the smaller one into his arms. He patted his cheek lightly, cooing, "Hey, it's okay. You're okay. Keep breathing, you're doing great," as the kid's breaths slowly grew stronger.

Kevin looked up at Ross, who was staring at him with wide eyes, and moved like he wanted to hand the pumpkin kid to him. Ross quickly moved in closer, took the kid, and carried him up out of his almost-grave. Then Kevin turned his attention to the other kid. The one who hadn't taken a breath yet. He scooped him up and brought him out of the grave himself.

Kevin didn't really know what he was doing, but he knelt down and laid the skeleton kid on his back in the grass, next to Ross and the other kid, and leaned down to listen to his chest, fearing the worst. But there, fluttering and weak, he could hear the kid's heartbeat.

"You're okay," Kevin told the kid, surprised. "You're alive, you're okay." He pressed his fingertips firmly into the center of the kid's chest, massaging with small, quick circles. Kevin remembered once when his friend had passed out from an accidental overdose and Kevin had called the paramedics on him, they had done something similar to remind his friend to keep breathing.

Kevin bit his lip and hoped the same would work here.

Under his fingers, he felt the small chest contract, almost like a cough, then the kid sucked in a shaky, raspy, tiny breath. And to Kevin, it was the best sound he had ever heard.

"Doing great," he reassured, continuing the firm circles. He slid his other hand under the kid's head to support it a little better, and the kid gasped another breath, deeper than the first.

Before Kevin could say anything, a sharp cry caught his attention.

"Skid!"

Kevin quickly looked over at Ross and the pumpkin kid, and was surprised to see the child sitting up and looking around himself in bewilderment. Their eyes met, then the kid looked down to see his friend, and his face wilted.

"Skid…" he repeated, shakily crawling over to them.

Ross moved like he was going to stop him, but Kevin shook his head. Ross seemed lost for a moment, and eventually slumped to sit next to Robert again, both of them closely watching the two kids and Kevin.

Roy slunk over to sit behind his friends, thankful that no one seemed to notice him.

"Skid," the pumpkin kid whispered again, reaching out a hand and holding onto his friend's trembling shoulder. He looked up at Kevin with huge, round eyes. "Is he gonna be okay, Kevin?"

Kevin looked down at Skid, whose breaths were coming much easier now, and gave the pumpkin kid a confident smile. "Yeah."

Skid mumbled something when he heard his friend's voice, and leaned toward him. The pumpkin kid scooted closer as well, petting Skid's shoulder. Slowly, blearily, Skid's eyes cracked open. It took effort for him to focus on anything, but he blinked and eventually managed to peer up at them. He made eye contact with his friend, and a relieved smile spread over his face. "Pump…" he barely whispered between his labored breaths.

Kevin couldn't help his smile. "Yeah, you guys will be okay," he reaffirmed, more to himself. Pump didn't acknowledge him, more focused on watching Skid wake up. Kevin passed Skid fully to Pump, letting him hold onto him and talk to him.

Then Kevin straightened up, sitting back onto his heels, and spotted the trio of teens sitting nearby. He gave them a disappointed look, and wouldn't even look at Roy at all.

Kevin stood up, feeling even more exhausted than before, and passed a hand over his face. "I'll deal with you three later. Right now, I need to get these kids home."

Roy made a small, argumentative squeak, and Kevin glared viciously at him. Roy looked down as he mumbled, "They were supposed to be okay, I didn't…" His hands balled at his sides. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

Kevin wanted to snap at him, but he could tell that Roy was genuinely humbled by what had happened, so he instead sighed heavily. "Your actions have consequences," he told the teen, reciting something someone had told him years ago. "Next time, think before you act. Then maybe…" he looked over at the two kids, who were shakily getting to their feet while holding onto each other. "…maybe no one else will get hurt."

Before Roy could reply, Kevin turned his back to them, and knelt by the spooky kids. "Think you're ready to head home?" He asked, and both of them nodded tiredly. Kevin nodded too, and reached out to take their hands, but both of them rushed forward and hugged his neck instead, refusing to let go.

Kevin paused, blinking silently. He awkwardly patted their backs, but they still clung to him. So with a dramatic groan, he hooked his arms under them for support, and stood back up. "You owe me for this," he grumbled good-naturedly.

As he began to walk out, Ross trotted after them, looking like he wanted to say something. Kevin stopped him with a harsh look. Ross opened his mouth, but then closed it and took a step back, watching them with an almost sad expression as Kevin carried the kids out of the graveyard.

Skid had fallen asleep, his grip nearly nonexistent on Kevin's neck. Pump continued to hold on, and just as they were exiting the iron gates, out of earshot of everyone else, Kevin heard his tiny voice, full of gratitude and relief, "Thank you, Kevin."

Kevin smiled to himself, glad that he had decided to step in. He felt Pump's breathing get heavier as he started to fall asleep too, and tightened his grip on both kids, making sure he wouldn't drop them. Kevin listened to their soft breathing, not taking a single puff against his neck for granted. This was definitely worth losing a bit of sleep.

Notes:

The Hatzgang sorta feel guilty! It's a start, right? Thank god Kevin has enough sense to take action before too much damage can be done

(Also, writing 6 male characters in a single scene is uhhhhh complicated. Especially when they dont know two of the characters' names until later. Never done this many before tbh, so if it's clumsily done or reads weird, don't hold it against me lol)