Chapter Text
Sweetheart had decided that she was going to kill Static. It was a surprisingly easy decision, given the severity of it. To be fair, she was more than a little drunk and trying to forget the feeling of dying. Becoming a Deity did have its side effects, especially for those who recently died. Her chest still felt tight and her hands were freezing. It was stressing her out, and that’s why someone had to pay. Specifically Static. Sweetheart wanted him to feel what it was like to die, to feel his life slowly slipping away and knowing that there was nothing he could do to stop it. Logically Sweetheart knew he had already felt that once, he was an Angel after all, but that wasn’t enough. She wanted him to die over and over and over and over and over and- She could feel the anger bubbling up inside of her.
Sweetheart’s thoughts tended to circle and tangle, getting stuck on words and running on feelings. She thought it was kind of ironic, that suicide by mood stablizers would make her moods so unstable, letting them build up in a fucked up feedback loop, until the pressure inside her head was too much, and it bled out on the people around her.
Right now she was alone though, lying on the bare floor in a cheap apartment she was renting with some of Static’s money on the promise that she would be back after she had sorted out the whole getting killed and coming back thing. She put her hands over her face and screamed, the anger sloughing off her aura in malevolent waves.
She squeezed her eyes tight when she heard the tv turn on, “Go away,” She shouted, “I'm not in the mood for this.”
“We need to talk.” the tv said.
“No we don’t,” Sweetheart growled, “I’m still mad at you. Fuck off.”
“You can’t stay mad forever dear,” Static sighed through the tv, “Come home. I miss you.”
“You killed me” Sweetheart sat up, almost shouting, “You literally killed me.”
“No, you killed yourself,” Static pinched the bridge of his nose, “I’m not going to have this conversation with you right now dear, just come home.”
Sweetheart glowered at him, “And what if I don’t come back.”
“You will.” Static said simply.
“God you're so fucking insufferable,” Sweetheart lunged forward and punched the tv, close to tears, “You won’t even admit you killed me. I hate you.” She sniffed, rubbing her eyes, “I’m going to fucking kill you, y’know.”
Static’s face contorted into an expression of anger, before he calmed it, “I’m sure you will.”
Sweet scowled and yanked the tv’s plug out of the wall before curling up into a fetal position on the floor and crying silently.
--
The next morning she felt like shit. She groaned and pushed herself up, joints popping and clicking. Today was going to be the day she decided. It probably would have been better to wait and plan, but Sweetheart was never good at patience, and some of the anger still stuck with her. She stretched and smiled. This was all going to work out, she knew it.
--
It was late in the afternoon before she arrived at Static’s house. Supposedly, it was their house, but Static had never let her forget that he was the one who technically owned it. Sweetheart nudged the welcome mat to the side and picked up the spare key. She unlocked the door and pushed it open quietly, readjusting her hold on the knife she had in her hand.
“Welcome home Flower.” Sweetheart jumped when she heard Static’s voice coming from behind her. She spun around and raised her knife.
"You can't keep staying mad at me forever," his voice was soft despite the white noise, "You're losing yourself, Flower darling."
"Fuck you," she snapped, but the dark circles and shakiness of her hands was evident.
He didn't look bothered, "You need to move on Flower."
"I can't fucking move on. You made sure I couldn't. I’m fucking dead now Static." Sweetheart's voice broke, “That’s not something I can move on from”
"Oh Flower," he reached out slowly, as if he was approaching a wild animal, "Come here dear, let me fix it ok? I can make it better" She collapsed into his arms and started to cry. Sweetheart was so tired of fighting, of the rage that crawled like ants underneath her skin. Gray fuzz slowly inched up her eyes, but she didn't care. Tomorrow she could follow through. Tomorrow she could kill him. Tomorrow she could-