Chapter Text
Kinoko Kingdom isn’t so lonely at night.
It’s one of those gorgeous places that one would expect to be brimming with residents and tourists, but at peak visitor hour, the streets are always empty. The brightly lit, colorful buildings have few inhabitants, and those who call this place home are rarely around. During the day, these problems are as glaring as the sun, and the emptiness eats away at the kingdom like a plague. The whole place is reminiscent of an antique teapot that is never actually used to serve tea.
But at night, the loneliness isn’t as suffocating. Looking down at the darkened streets from a window, it’s easy to pretend that everybody is simply sleeping. The beautiful glow of the buildings and street lamps is a momentary distraction from how empty it all is.
Sapnap sits at his window, staring blankly at the glowing kingdom outside. His eyes are heavy with lack of sleep, but he can’t go to bed now, not when he’s waiting. Karl is going to come back any second now, he’s sure of it. If he leaves now, who will be there to welcome him back?
It’s not odd for Karl to be out this late. Sapnap doesn’t have a clue where he goes or what he gets up to, but it’s not his job to know. It’s his job to be here when he returns and make sure he’s had enough to eat in the last twenty-four hours. It used to be a rare thing, but more and more often has Karl been slipping away with the cheerful promise that he’ll be back in just a moment, only to not show up again for another hour or so. And who is Sapnap to blame him? He has his own secrets, they all do. He never asks about it, and Karl doesn’t tell him. It’s a delicate balance, and for now, neither of them mind it. So until that day comes that Karl decides to fill him in on the contents of his little escapades, Sapnap will be here, waiting.
His bored, tired eyes drift around his little house, scanning for something to fidget with, something to keep him up for the time being until Karl makes his entrance. He’s used to staying up late into the night (and early into the morning), but tonight has kept him up notably longer. He glances over a chest filled with old painting supplies and quickly decides that he isn’t in the mood for trying out an old hobby. He spots a set of flint and steel that’s been left out for whoever knows how long, and although there’s a flicker of excitement at the sight of it, he decides against it. He doesn’t particularly enjoy the idea of accidentally burning his house and the rest of Kinoko to the ground, and going somewhere else with it is out of the question, for fear of going too far to welcome Karl.
His gaze passes over an old photograph and he immediately averts his eyes, deciding to instead resume his staring out the window.
He’s had that photo up forever, but he hasn’t yet brought himself to take it down. It was taken during a simpler time, and it’s one of the few evidences he has that such a time ever existed. The image of himself, Karl and Quackity giving stupid grins to the camera hurts to look at, but if there’s no pain, then there might as well not be any good either, right?
Thinking about the photograph and its carefree subjects gives an odd twist to Sapnap’s gut, so he tries not to think about it. He tries not to think about how empty Kinoko’s streets are, how few people from that happier time he has left. He doesn’t think about how everybody he ever loved either hates him, is corrupted or imprisoned, or sleeping.
Instead, he thinks about Karl, who he refuses to believe has ever let him down, and whose smile he can’t wait to see again.
He needn’t wait for much longer, evidently, as shortly after the thought passes, he spots a distant dim figure turn down the streets of Kinoko Kingdom, right in his line of sight from the window.
“Karl,” Sapnap mutters excitedly, a naive smile forcing its way onto his features. Immediately, he’s out of his seat and rushing to the door, excitement lacing his every step despite the exhaustion that had been overtaking him just moments before.
He bounds out onto Kinoko’s wooden walkways, not quite running but not quite concealing his excitement, either. He calls out Karl’s name with an inextinguishable grin, waving dramatically at the distant figure in the dim lamplight. Although Sapnap can’t quite see his face, Karl gives a weak wave back—uncharacteristically unenthusiastic. Karl must be just as tired as Sapnap is, if not more, and eager to get to bed.
“How are you?” Sapnap calls, still approaching, still not quite able to make out Karl’s face in the dark. As he gets closer, he begins to wonder if Karl is walking slower than he normally would. He’s definitely more huddled in on himself, walking with a slight hunch and his arms tucked close to his chest. He must be cold—well, Sapnap would make sure that gets fixed up as soon as he can.
“Sapnap,” Karl finally calls back. It’s not quite an answer to Sapnap’s question, but the sound of his own name is warm on his ears, so he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t notice the waver in Karl’s voice.
Karl’s foot catches on something on the wooden path, and he stumbles. Ever-resilient, he doesn’t fall, but it takes him longer to regain his balance. This puts a small damper on Sapnap’s grin.
“You okay?” he asks, giving his voice a half-joking edge, but sure to make it evident that he cares. Still, Karl doesn’t answer; he only repeats Sapnap’s name, louder this time, so it’s impossible to ignore the waver in his voice.
Sapnap’s expression falls into a frown and he picks up the pace. Slowly, Karl is illuminated in the lamplight, and instead of the eager smile and energetic aura that Sapnap had grown so used to, he seems smaller, dimmer. His hair is matted and frizzy, his jacket torn and jeans tattered. The closer he shuffles forward, the more sure Sapnap becomes sure that he’s standing with a tremble, walking with a limp. He can hear his breathing, and it’s shallow, unsteady.
“Karl?” Sapnap repeats, trying to give a nervous laugh, but the nervousness of it wins over. He tries to ignore the sense of dread that descends over him, the knot in his throat and the terrified tremble in his hands as he reaches out for Karl.
Karl seems to notice the gesture, and with an exertion of whatever little strength he has, he bounds forward the last few steps it takes to fall into Sapnap’s arms, still clutching his own chest. Sapnap accepts him without a question, immediately pulling his arms around Karl, ignoring the anxiety, the dread.
“Are you okay?” he asks again, his voice low both to keep calm and to hide the frantic tremble that is sure to be behind it.
Karl makes a soft, non-committed sound before he sighs into Sapnap’s shoulder and mutters, “I’m sorry.”
The panic wins over.
“What?” Sapnap blurts, giving Karl’s shoulders a tight squeeze. “Hey—what happened? Are you okay? Are you—how can I help?”
Karl shushes him, nose buried in the crook of Sapnap’s neck. His voice is muffled, and Sapnap can feel his shoulders trembling. Karl is taller than he is, so he has to stand at an awkward angle to do it, but he’s putting all his weight into Sapnap, practically melting into him.
“Don’t ‘shh’ at me, Karl!” Sapnap snaps, though any real anger he would have had is drowned out by the pain that chokes him out.
“Sorry,” Karl whispers, and he chuckles. A weak, small sound that is nothing like his usual loud, squeaky laughter. Sapnap hates the sound of it.
“Stop it,” he says, but it sounds less like a command and more like a plea. “What happened to you? How—how do I fix it?”
“You can’t,” Karl mutters, and before Sapnap can form a response, he backs up. He leans away just enough to not fall over from the effort of it, just enough so that Sapnap can see the smile he wears. That thin, wobbly smile, but also the overwhelming love in his cloudy, bright yellow eyes.
Sapnap blinks, confusion momentarily hitting him. Yellow eyes?
He shoves the confusion away and replaces it with the fear, the dread that eats at him. He can’t bear to see Karl like this any longer, and he needs to know how to fix it, now.
“Karl,” Sapnap practically whines, begging for what he can do, but he doesn’t get in another word before Karl shifts his attention away from him, moving to dig his hands in his hoodie pocket. When he moves his arms off his chest, there’s a dark stain on the purple fabric.
“Shit!” Sapnap shouts, “You’re bleeding! What the hell happened to you?”
Karl doesn’t answer him. Instead, he produces a small something from his pocket—Sapnap doesn’t care what it is, only that it’s stained in Karl’s blood.
“Take this,” Karl says, his voice sounding as firm as it possibly can be. He takes the small object in his hands—a book, Sapnap realizes—and presses it to Sapnap’s chest. “Read it.”
Sapnap takes the book in a shaking hand, gives it one half-glance, then throws it into the grass.
“We have to get you to someone,” he decides out loud, his voice loud and awkwardly pitched. “There’s gotta be somewhere we can go—who lives near us who can help?”
“Sapnap,” Karl says, noticeably wincing. He doesn’t so much as acknowledge the words he’s hearing before he falls forward, back into the warmth of Sapnap’s embrace. “Read it,” he repeats, voice muffled “Please.”
Sapnap is shaking his head, though he doesn’t quite know what for. “No,” he says, though he doesn’t quite know what he’s refusing.
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying that!”
He feels Karl’s arms wrap around his back, and weak though the embrace may be, Sapnap feels like he’s being choked. He feels the warmth of Karl’s chest press into his own, the wetness of his own hands.
“I love you,” Karl whispers into Sapnap’s shoulder, and his breath is hot.
“No,” Sapnap chokes, his eyes burning. “No—no, you’re not—you’re gonna be fine! I’m gonna… somebody’s gonna get you fixed, and we’re gonna be okay!”
He feels Karl’s fingers press into his back, feels him shaking his head on his shoulders.
“I messed up. I…didn’t mean for it to go so wrong. Sorry.”
Sapnap can imagine his sheepish smile. In another world, he’d be scratching the back of his head with an embarrassed laugh, apologizing for another endearing mistake. And in that other world, Sapnap would laugh at him, call him an idiot, then help him fix the mistake.
“Don’t” Sapnap mutters, and he can’t quite tell where the sting in his eyes ends and where the wetness begins.
“Love you,” Karl whispers again, and there’s the quietest echo of a playful giggle.
Sapnap swallows down the hard lump in his throat as he tries to replicate the memory of that lovely sound, but the best he can do as his voice cracks is, “I—I love you, too.”
That must be what Karl has been waiting for, because he lets out a deep, happy sigh into Sapnap’s shoulders as his fingers squeeze around the fabric of Sapnap’s shirt. His breath blows away with the wind, and the weight disappears from Sapnap’s shoulders.
When he gains the courage to open his wet eyes, there’s nothing left but a wisp of smoke, blood on his shirt, and the most distant whisper of a smile.
This is fine.
Sapnap repeats this to himself over and over as he paces the first floor of Karl’s house. He’s leaving muddy tracks on the clean wooden floor, but he doesn’t care—he barely even notices.
It’s been nearly ten minutes since Karl died in Sapnap’s arms. Countless scenarios have since filled his mind, leaving him endlessly wondering what Karl had done. He feels like he might be sick from worry, but he ignores it to focus on pacing back and forth on the floor just below Karl’s bedroom.
For a few horrifying moments, Sapnap had wondered whether or not Karl would return, whether this had really been his final life, his second having been lost while on one of his (apparently incredibly dangerous) adventures. But, he has since reasoned, if he had just witnessed Karl’s final death, then he would have a body to bury, and since Karl was gone with a light breeze, he’s confident that he’ll be coming back any second now.
With any less self-control, Sapnap would already be in Karl’s room waiting for him, but he fears acting on selfishness. Despite being the most cuddly person Sapnap has ever met, Karl is miserable in the mornings—once, he was sure that Karl actually hissed at him when he tried to wake him up. Sapnap hasn’t yet lost any of his lives, but he’s sure that coming back after death would be similar to waking up, so he has reluctantly opted to give Karl the space he needs to recover. Then they’ll talk.
Because oh, how they need to talk. If there’s one thing Sapnap has learned so far from this mess, it’s that he is suddenly much less accepting of the idea of Karl’s outings. The idea of what he’s been getting up to during all those late nights sickens him, and he can’t bear the thought of remaining in the dark. He has let Karl keep his secrets for this long, but if his lack of involvement has in any way contributed to the loss of Karl’s second life, then he doesn’t know how long he would be able to live with himself. He hates the thought of hovering or sticking his nose too far into Karl’s business, but he hopes that he’ll understand that they can’t continue like this.
Sapnap blows air from his puffed cheeks as he paces. It’s now been twelve minutes. He wonders how long the respawn process is supposed to take—he wonders if Karl’s spawn point isn’t here. If that’s the case, then Sapnap is more than willing to tear apart this whole server to find where he has ended up, but for now, he waits.
His mind wanders to the little brown book tucked in his back pocket; despite his complete apathy towards it thanks to the chaos of everything else, Karl had thought it important enough to give it to him in his final moments. He hasn’t yet opened it, or even read the title on the front cover, but he had felt terrible to leave it in the grass, so he keeps it with him.
Admittedly, he doesn’t plan on reading it. Whatever its contents, he’s sure that Karl will be able to tell him when he’s well enough to. For now, he’s decided to leave the bloodstained pages closed.
The golden rays of sunlight start to pour into Karl’s house as the sun rises, and Sapnap still hasn’t slept. Given how it’s only the earliest hour of morning, he’s sure Tina’s sleeping, but he wonders if there’s a chance she had heard any of the commotion, Sapnap’s shouted panics. George has undoubtedly slept through it all, and more than likely remains dreaming in his room, completely oblivious to what’s happening around him.
Sapnap fights back a yawn at the thought of it, determined not to let himself lower his guard. Then, just as he wonders how much longer this is going to take and whether or not he should barge into Karl’s room (despite his scruples), he hears a quiet thunk from above.
He immediately freezes in his pacing, his wide eyes jerking towards the hallway ahead of him. He anxiously picks at his fingers as he strains his ears, and he hears the undeniable sound of footsteps. The house creaks as the steps slowly, carefully wander the upstairs floor, only to reach the ladder down. Sapnap waits with tightly held breath as he watches Karl emerge from the hatch and steadily climb to the bottom floor.
“Karl,” Sapnap breathes when Karl’s feet hit the floor. At the hushed sound of his name, he whirls around and faces Sapnap with something like shock written in his wide eyes. Sapnap rushes to him without hesitation, though he has enough sense not to pounce on Karl with a smothering hug.
“Are you okay?” he blurts, and his voice is pitched with the relieved smile that overtakes his features. He’s alive, he thinks, and the thought is bliss. He’s here.
Karl gives him a small, timid smile, but makes no moves towards him.
“Uh—yeah, I’m good! What’s up?”
Sapnap breathes out his relief, letting out a short laugh.
“Holy shit, you scared me, man!”
Karl laughs along with him, but his is weaker, more hesitant. Sapnap notices how his eyes flicker to the side, like he’s caught up in an awkward situation.
Sapnap can’t say he’s entirely surprised. Of course Karl’s reaction to literally dying under mysterious circumstances in Sapnap’s arms is embarrassment. He can hear Karl’s voice in his mind; “This is so awkward.” He chuckles out loud at the thought of it.
“Do you want to tell me what happened yet? Or should we save that for later?”
Karl looks at him with a blank, wide-eyed expression. “Uhh,” he says, drawing it out long and flat. Sapnap’s smile turns confused, but Karl gives another awkward laugh.
“Uhm, nope! I’m totally fine, nothing to report.”
Sapnap’s smile falls, although he tries to keep it.
“What?” he says with an attempted laugh, but his voice is small. “What do you—what do you mean, ‘nothing to report’? Karl, you—”
He hesitates. He doesn’t like the idea of saying the word aloud, but it’s the truth, so he forces out in a near whisper, “You died.”
Karl’s eyebrows fly up in surprise.
“Shoot, did I really?” one of his hands flies up to bury itself in his hair. His eyes dart around, looking anywhere but Sapnap, laughing nervously as he adds, “What the hell…”
Sapnap’s brow creases in his frown, any semblance of light-hearted, relieved smiles wiped from his face.
“Karl,” he mutters, reaching a hesitant hand forward. To his surprise, Karl doesn’t move his own hand forward to meet him halfway. “Are you sure you’re okay? Hey—do you need to sit down? When did you last eat?”
Instead of another pathetic laugh, Karl frowns at him. “Hey, I said I’m fine, okay?”
Sapnap finds himself startled by the sudden harsh tone that his voice has taken on. It’s a dark tone, something not exactly threatening, but it makes Sapnap wither away to be at the receiving end of. The last time he can remember Karl using that voice was—he shudders to remember it.
Sapnap’s voice is small when he asks, “You sure?”
Only surprising him more, Karl rolls his eyes at him. Sapnap can’t remember a single time Karl had ever done so when not part of a joke.
“Look,” Karl starts, and he’s regained the softness to his voice, but the tone isn’t quite familiar. There’s a certain edge that Sapnap doesn’t recognize—irritation?
“I’m sorry,” Karl continues, “but do I even know you?”
Sapnap goes stiff, and the world around him freezes.
“Uh,” he croaks. “What—uh, yeah? Karl, I’m—it’s me, Sapnap? Are you joking?”
Karl squints at him, but no recognition flickers in his golden eyes.
“Sorry,” Karl repeats, though he doesn’t particularly sound it. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”
Sapnap’s ears are ringing. He tries to close his mouth, but he can’t stop gaping at Karl with disbelief. This isn’t funny, he thinks, though he wants to scream it out loud. Stop joking. It’s not funny. Take me seriously.
But the words won’t come, choked down by his own disbelief, his dread.
Sapnap must have been standing there for too long, because Karl apparently grows impatient with him. He manages a small smile and asks, his voice more polite (too polite), “Do you mind if I go?”
Sapnap stares blankly at him for several agonizing seconds before abruptly nodding his head.
“Go ahead,” he mutters, and his eyes are unfocused as Karl gives his thanks and steps around him, surely heading for the exit. Sapnap hears the door open and close as he leaves, and what follows is silence. Suffocating, miserable, confused silence. He stares numbly at the spot Karl had left, his breath shallow.
“What the fuck,” he whispers, and he’s soon to realize that this is much worse than any of the scenarios he had imagined.