Work Text:
Chip’s pencil hovered just above the notebook that he had managed to swipe on his way back from the zoo from some salesperson who wasn’t paying attention to their booth. He was sat in some dark alley far enough from the port that none of his crew would think to look but close enough that he could manage to find his way back to the ship. It had long since turned night, and it was silent in Liquidus. Save for the rushing water in the hydropolis, of course.
There was only the greeting of the letter he was writing on the page. To Jay, Gil, and Ollie . It felt like pulling teeth to press the graphite to the paper. It was so unlike him-- Chip , for gods’ sake-- to be wordless.
That wasn’t really true, though, and he knew it. He had a lot of things to say. It was just that none of them… That they would hurt. A harsh, biting reality that he was running from in the only way he could think of at this point.
Chip was far from home. It technically didn’t exist anymore, but the sentiment stood. The ones who loved him were long gone at this point. Drey and Lizzie were alive still, sure, but Chip knew it wasn’t the same as it was. He wasn’t the brave little boy on the Midnight Rose anymore. He was Chip. Just Chip.
He had tried to be better for a long time. He had taken the words that Gillion had said to heart all those months ago, and he tried to make the change. His behaviors became more selfless, and he thought about his friends’ feelings before acting or speaking.
But it was never enough. Everyone always made that clear.
It wasn’t enough that Chip tried his damnedest to be good . For him to try at every corner to be kind and righteous . No, he would always be a bastard and nothing more. A poor fighter with an even worse personality. Unloveable. Unsalvageable .
If Chip were being honest, he didn’t know if anyone would even care much about his note. Gil and Jay had fixed him, of course, but the things they said didn’t match their actions. People could act courteously all they wanted. Their words tended to show their real feelings. And the two of them were incredible; they were the best people that Chip had ever met besides Arlin. They were fucking heroes .
It made sense that they didn’t care for him and that everything had been a facade. It still hurt. To be hated by the heroes? What could be worse than that ?
Chip was drowning. No matter how hard he kicked towards the surface, he kept sinking deeper and deeper into the realization that he would never, ever be as good as Arlin. He wouldn’t even win a second-place medal. He was dead last in every single way.
Chip with no last name would die alone, cold and sad and pathetic. No one would hear his cries. No one would see him take his last breath. It would all come to an end, and he was fine with that. He hoped that whichever goddess claimed him would spare him at least a little.
Stamping down the twisting feeling in his stomach, he pressed his pencil down and wrote. He expressed everything that he had felt for the past however fucking long the Riptide Pirates had been together. He told his story the best he could. And with a final “ Signed, Chip ,” he closed the book.
Chip stood slowly, allowing himself a moment to stretch. In a moment, he would go back to The Albatross, and after that, he would leave. Eventually, everyone would forget about Chip, and no one would praise his existence besides the worms in the dirt.