Work Text:
“Do I have to Wilbur?” He took a bite of his candy floss, pushing his tongue to the roof of his mouth in reassurance. “You lost the bet.” Wilbur smirked, holding the can of coke he bought at the last stall. “Fuck you and your stupid bets!” Tommy spat back. “You don’t want to do it?” Wilbur responded, raising an eyebrow, “No.” he replied meekly. “Then win next time.” He sighed, head drooping, candy floss tilting towards the ground (it was a miracle it hadn’t fallen yet). Wilbur chuckled, “Unless you’re chickening out, pussy” He taunted.
“Oi! I ain’t a pussy!” He exclaimed, blushing, “You-You fucking bitch!”
“Then prove it.” He, along with a sip of his coke, walked ahead. Immediately falling for the gibe, Tommy rushed up to Wilbur. “Fine I’ll go on the fucking ride! But if it fucking kills me, or some shit, I-I’ll fucking shank you!” Although, he wasn’t so sure of himself, and Wilbur knew that. “So you’ll shank me but can’t even go on a bloody fair ride?” He jabbed with honey words, “Sure.”
“I’ll go! I’ll go!” With that Tommy stormed off to the rollercoaster.
—
After five minutes of sulking he arrived at the rollercoaster. The line was bare, only several people waiting (compared to some hundreds at others). Up close he could see the atrocious state of the ride, rails rusting and battered, seats scratched and smudged suspicious colours. It was a wonder how the thing even made it past regulations! He beelined for the back of the line staring, still, in disgust at the ride. With his mind occupied, he walked right into the person in front. “Huh- wh-what” They murmured, seemingly shaken out of a world of their own. “Sorry…” He atoned, ears going red.
“Oh it’s okay! I’m Ranboo by the way! The person- Ranboo stumbled back. They waited for a reply. They were met with an awkward silence. Ranboo rushed to fill it, “What is- what’s your name?”
“Tommy.” he retorted, stiff and abrupt.
“Oh, cool…” Ranboo uttered, “I’m just gonna- I’m just gonna turn around now”
“Er- alright…” Ranboo faced the front again, he let out a sigh. Fuck , he didn't realise he started holding his breath. Tommy forced himself to relax, he was overthinking things, he always did that, it was nothing. “Enjoy the ride I guess.” he squeezed his shoulders. Ranboo huffed, “Yeah you too man”.
The peace was interpreted by a repulsing voice, “Primes Please! Get your Primes out” the man by the booth hollered “Four Primes for the ride!” Promptly the line started shortening, he wished it didn’t, that it would stay frozen in time. The man was -in a similar state to the rollercoaster- unkempt and grubby. Baseball cap hiding thin greasy hair, vest stained with sweat and condiments. His shorts sagging, frayed on the ends. “Watcha lookin’ at?” The man slurred, clearly not sober. “Nothing” Tommy squeaked, hastily dropping the primes into the man’s slimy hands. “Well get on!”
Tommy rushed up to the ride, nearly tripping on a loose bolt, and (with reluctance) sat down. The seat was scratched and well-worn, making his skin itch. “Oh, hello again”
“Hi” Tommy shrunk back in his chair, longing to be anywhere but here. “Come Tommy, brighten up!” called out a voice from the ground - fucking Wilbur. Tommy, decidedly, ignored him. “Who is that calling for you?” inquired Ranboo. “My brother,” he mumbled.
“So you came with him?” Tommy nodded, “That's nice” They inquired, “I’m here on my own.”
“He’s the reason I’m on this stupid thing.” Tommy spat, still very annoyed with his brother. “Oh, well- that's not so nice, I'm just trying it out ‘cause it’s the cheapest ride.”
“Cool.” Tommy knew he was being shallow, but he very much did not want to be here. “I’m sure it won’t be that bad” Ranboo reassured, though it seemed they were convincing themself as much as they were him. “The ride is starting now!” bellowed the prime collector.
—
Watching Tommy shrink in on himself was hilarious. Of course he was just being dramatic! Saying the ride would kill him! It was just a rollercoaster! Maybe it was a bit run down, but what could realistically go wrong? He paraded up to the ride, chuckling at the poor attempt the kid next to Tommy made at conversation. Tommy for sure was loud, but he never really got Wilbur’s social skills.
“Come on Tommy, brighten up!” He yelled, he could tell Tommy heard him, as his scowl deepened. Wilbur was so caught up in his train of thought that he didn’t notice the pebble on the path. He stumbled. Coca Cola flying from his hand landing right onto the ride’s controls, the brown concoction seeping into the machinery. “Hey! Watch it would ya!”
Wilbur grimaced, stalking off to a more shaded part of the fair.
—
As the safety rails came down, his gut clenched, it felt wrong. It was too tight. The bar pushed against his abdomen, lungs constricted. He wanted to shout, to scream his quarrels with the ride. His throat closed, leaving him squirming his seat. “You good man?” heeded Ranboo, “Fuckin’ peachy.” Tommy rasped. If he wanted to say more he didn’t get a chance as the ride slowly started to speed up. Just three times. He reminded himself, it would go around three times and he was done.
—
When the first circuit was done, he lost his apprehension. Heck! On the second he might even say he was enjoying it (only a bit though)! They were just beginning to slowly approach the third slope -the tallest one. When the ride stopped. People looked around, voicing concern in quiet murmurs. Then they were going again. And they were going fast.
Tommy’s eyes widened as they sped up. Air sucked from his lungs. They were going too quickly. Heartbeat frantic and rapid. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he hated this. Thoughts running a mile a minute. Fuck Wilbur and his stupid games, he is never falling for one again. As they reached the top, the car showed no signs of stopping. Muscles tensed in apprehension.
The ride went up, and plummeted.
There was a screech as they came to an immediate stop.
Tommy jerked forwards.
There was a crunch.
There were screams.
There was nothing.
—
Wilbur stuck around the rollercoaster, watching his brother go up and down the slopes. Tommy even seemed to enjoy it! This is why Wilbur
peer-pressuring
advising Tommy on what he should do was a good thing! Phil should let him do it more often! He was just watching Tommy having fun, when their car came to a sudden halt. Something seemed
wrong
. He looked at the prime collector, the man seemed just as confused as the rest of them. Something was
wrong
. As if nothing had happened, the ride continued, but it was different. Going abnormally quick.
Dangerously
quick.
Tommy is on there, Tommy is on there because of him.
He shouldn’t have forced him to go on. This was his fault, now Tommy was paying the fucking price. The fiasco started to attract a crowd, people recording the fair ride gone wrong. It was now bolting down the slope, hitting record speeds. Then it stopped.
He watched them fall forwards. He watched Tommy jerk into his safety bar. He heard his brother scream. He watched his brother go slack.
“TOMMY”
—
They groaned eyes squeezed shut, bells striking the hour in his head. They sat stock still, attempting to ward off the pain. Proving to no avail. At a snail's pace, Ranboo opened their eyes. The light burnt their retinas. Looking around, noting down the other’s varying degrees of dazed and out cold. They turned to the left to see Tommy, and to say the least, he looked bad . His skin was moist and pasty. Asleep almost, like he was dreaming. Ranboo wished this was a dream. Their fingers sluggishly reached out for him, touching frozen skin. Their mind churned at the contact, hand flinching back. Colours splotched, obscuring their vision. Eyes slowly shut as they were lulled into a tormented sleep.
—
Tommy woke up to a vibrant pain in his lower abdomen. Gently he raised his head, neck stiff and cracking with sudden movement. He shuffled to re-adjust himself, clenching his stomach. Agony. Bile rose up his throat, muscles contracting at the sensation. Tommy winced as his brain knotted. He looked down to his gut. Crimson red met his gaze, the safety bar lodged into his sinews. Flesh squelched at each laboured breath. Blood oozed out the wound. He was going to be sick . He attempted to pry it out of him, it pushed against his diaphragm. Tommy heaved. Chunks of blood spewed from him. He cringed; every minor agitation firing shockwaves through his body. Liquid red pooled on him.
Swimming in his throat. Gouging out his eyes. Tearing up his brain.
—
Blurred shouts and mumbled commands.
Warm hands on icy skin.
Shut doors and silent sirens.
Slowing heart monitors.
Comforts and apologies from a brother.
The semicolon and the full-stop
—
“Last night at Manberg fair, the tragic malfunction of a ride resulted in two casualties and five severe injuries. This is Mr Schlatt, CEO of Manberg Enterprises’ response to yesterday’s incident ‘We apologise to all those affected, all necessary surgeries will be covered by us, and staff running the ride will be held accountable. Rest assured that nothing like that shall happen again.’ We have yet to hold any interviews from victims or witnesses. It is unknown whether charges have or will be pressed. I am Captain Puffy and this is Essempi News.”