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I’m walking the long road, watching the sky fall.
Gloomy didn’t know what to say in the moment.
Things had been looking up lately- she mended her relationship with Stormy and she and Wilbur were getting along a lot more lately.
Her times in the End were slowly becoming a comfort, if she were honest.
Late nights spent with Stormy, sleepovers staring at the glittering void and hushed voices admitting to wrongdoings.
The times she talked to Wilbur were filled with healing and comfort. There was no witnesses to the apologies spoken quietly to each other.
Things… were looking up, for once.
And then Stormy fell into the void.
Her body was frozen as she watched him fall, time slowing down as they locked eyes.
She clutched the axe tighter in her hands.
The axe landed on the endstone perfectly in front of her. Their eyes met- and Stormy simply smiled. His hand rose into a salute.
“I’ll see you on the other side.”
Suddenly, the world stopped spinning. For the first time since she’s arrived in the End, as she stood before the void-
It was silent.
The lost souls in the void didn’t dare speak a word, as if they knew of what happened.
Maybe they did. Maybe Stormy was a sacrifice for them.
The world was crashing around her.
She felt like she was in the ocean, the waves crashing against her body and pulling her further in.
She felt a presence next to her. “…Wilbur?”
It was like ice when she felt his hand on her shoulder, freezing her bones and slowing her rapid thoughts.
“What the fuck did you do.”
Gloomy turned to look at him, her eyes wide in surprise. “I- Wilbur, he sacrificed himself for me!” Her eyes burned as she held the axe.
Stormy’s axe.
Wilbur’s eyes were dark with anger. “Gloomy, you wouldn’t have died!” His hands shook as he balled them into fists. “Gloomy, you’re-“
“Grieving my friend’s death? I know!” She cried, cutting him off. Her voice grew in volume as she collapsed to the ground. “I couldn’t even save him, it was him or me-“
“Gloomy, you’re immortal, goddammit!”
“…What?” she whispered.
Wilbur dropped to the ground next to her, an icy hand touching her hands gripping the axe. She jerked her head up, eyes locking onto his transparent ones.
“I blessed you with immortality,” Wilbur spoke softly. “If you would have fallen, you would have just respawned. Stormy- he’s gone.”
◤─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◥
The axe was heavy in Gloomy’s hands as she trudged over to Keyn’s home. The shining purple netherite glimmered innocently, almost as if it was taunting her.
He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead.
He’s gone, and it’s all your fault.
She gripped the axe stained with purple and red blood harder.
“I don’t- I don’t believe you.”
She stood up, her grip on the axe impossibly tight. Wilbur slowly stood up after her.
“I don’t believe you,” she repeated, voice shaky.
“Gloomy,” he said softly, hands reached out in alarm. He took a step forward.
“NO!” she roared, stepping closer to the edge.
She looked behind her, the glimmering void greeting her silently.
She smiled.
“I’ll see you on the other side, Stormy.”
Her eyes locked with Wilbur’s as she rose the axe above her head, careful to aim it properly.
“Gloomy-“
The axe sliced through the air.
The void was silent again.
And she woke up.
Gloomy hasn’t seen Wilbur since the incident.
It was fine, really. She was left to her thoughts, which was rare ever since the possession. It felt like the void all over again-
It was nice.
The death of a bachelor-
She stood in front of Keyn’s front door, hand ready to knock. Her heart was like an anchor, weighing her down and trying to bring her back to earth.
She glanced at the glitched hearts on her wrist, the normal three hearts replaced with a single golden heart. She sighed.
The door opened before she could knock. Keyn’s bright blue and yellow eyes greeted her. “Oh, hey Gloomy,” they greeted with a smile. In the distance, she could see Schlatt hovering behind them. “What’s up?”
Letting the water fall.
She inhaled quickly, making a choking noise. She covered her mouth with her hand. “I-“ Her face was wet. Why was her face wet?
Keyn’s smile faded. “Uhhh, Gloomy?” They laughed awkwardly, shuffling on their feet.
The death of a bachelor-
Gloomy smiled weakly, tears streaming down her face. “I’m- I’m sorry-“ she laughed to herself. She shoved the axe into Keyn’s hands, watching their eyes widen in realisation.
“No,” they breathed. “N-no-“
Seems so fitting for a happily ever after-
Keyn rubbed their hand against the stained blade, one they knew like the back of their hand. They killed Stormy with it after all-
Their hands shook as the reality set in. “Y-you-“ Keyn jerked their head up from the axe, eyes blazing in a hot fury. “You killed him?”
How could I ask for more?
Gloomy straightened her posture. “What?” she whispered.
Keyn’s eyes burned as their hands curled around the handle of the axe. Schlatt’s cold hands held their shoulders in an attempt to comfort them.
“You fucking killed Stormy,” they growled.
Gloomy’s eyes flashed and she took a step back. Her eyes refused to focus one either figure, switching back and forth from Keyn’s angry expression and Schlatt, who was smiling uncertainly.
“Keyn,” she spoke calmly, shoving her emotions down. “You need to breathe, you don’t want to do anything you’ll regret-“
“I don’t need to do anything,” Keyn pointed the axe at her. “You’ve heard the saying a life for a life, haven’t you?”
A lifetime of laughter-
Gloomy stared at the blade pointed to her neck. “Keyn, wait-“
She didn’t have time to finish her sentence, as the axe ripped through her neck. Collapsing to the ground instantly, her legs buckled underneath her weight.
“I’m immortal,” she choked out, a sad smile across her face.
-At the expense of the death of a bachelor.
◤─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◥
Wilbur still hasn’t shown up.
It’s been a few weeks since Keyn killed Gloomy, and she has done nothing but stay in her house.
Maybe if she just stayed away, the pain will go away.
Her room was littered with the smell of death, her body aching from not moving from her bed. What was the point of being immortal if all she did was hurt her friends?
(The golden heart on her wrist ached at the thought. A curse in disguise, really.)
Stormy was dead, she ruined her relationship with Keyn and Townnie, and now even Wilbur isn’t showing up.
She dug her nails into her palm, a weak cry escaping her lips.
Gloomy rolled onto her stomach, face planted into her dirty pillow. Her cries were muffled into the thick fabric.
A cold hand sunk into her dyed locks, to her surprise. She jumped softly, quickly going to wipe her tears that fell down her face like waterfalls. (It was safe to say it didn’t work.)
Strong hands pulled her off the bed and into said person’s cold chest. Her head was nudged gently into their chest. The tears streamed down her face even harder at the cold comfort.
“I’m sorry-“ she sniffled, voice barely audible.
“You’re okay,” Wilbur spoke softly, hugging her into his transparent body. His embrace was cold and firm, yet comforting and the warmest thing she’s felt in days. She cried more at the thought.
“Townnie hates me, and Keyn killed me- and- and now Stormy’s fucking DEAD-“ she spoke quickly, her heart beating faster as her hyperventilation heightened. He rubbed her back in soothing circles.
“It’s not your fault, moonlight. I should have told you, if anything it’s my fault.”
“But you were just trying to keep me safe.” She lifted her head from his chest to stare him in the eyes.
He smiled comfortingly. “Perhaps, but why would it be your fault? You’re just trying your best. You’re not responsible for Stormy’s death.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “But-“
“Ever heard of Survivor’s Guilt, Gloomy?” He cupped her face in those cold, transparent hands. “It’s where you feel guilty of surviving when others died. You deserve to live, moonlight.”
She shut her eyes for a moment, as if to take in his words. They opened again to Wilbur’s thumb wiping away her tears.
“There’s a difference between surviving and truly living, Gloomy. You’ve been surviving all your life, living for others and letting them take and take and strike you down. So moonlight,” he breathed, tilting her chin to force her head up to eye level.
“Won’t you live for me?”
◤─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◥
And then Stormy was alive.
Gloomy wasn’t sure how, nobody really understood- but there he stood, in all of his glory. The white streak in his hair, the melancholy expression forever imprinted on his face, the axe-
It was all there.
She felt as if her emotions went through a ringer and were left to hang on a clothesline, but he was here.
He’s alive.
Stormy was alive.
The bastard he was, of course, acted as if nothing happened. He smiled widely at Gloomy, his sharp teeth on display, and asked, “What’d I miss?”
She slapped him for it, of course. Right after she gave him a hug and muttered countless apologies.
It wasn’t her fault.
Explaining to Stormy immortality was surprisingly not as difficult as assumed. Being ender-void spawn meant he already had an extended lifespan, which in return meant outliving his friends.
Her heart dropped at his jokes, as much as she tried to remain positive. Stormy didn’t have much comprehension of how dark his humour could be, how could he? He’s not human, it isn’t his fault.
Truly living meant watching everyone else die.
She cursed to whatever deity was watching her. Fuck Wilbur, too.
(She didn’t mean that, despite everything.)
Things felt almost normal again, with Stormy back. It was entertaining to watch the tall bastard get tackled by Keyn; the ram barreling into him with their horns easily.
Stormy’s death felt like it brought the server together in some sick sort of way.
It wasn’t perfect, by the gods was it a wreck- (Gloomy felt the eyes on her figure when she looked away. She knew Keyn and Townnie were staring, judging.) but the illusion of the friendship being healed was nice.
They were all on the Tower of Terror, just as they used to in the beginning of the server. Gloomy sat on the end, followed by Stormy, Keyn, then Townnie. Wilbur leaned against one of the wooden pillars, Schlatt laying next to him, half asleep.
The stars sparkled under bright laughter, as if they were laughing with them. Keyn had told a joke that left them struggling to breathe, while Gloomy pulled out a cigarette. Keyn glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. They smiled slightly.
“Y’know, those could- could kill you,” the grin on their face was contagious, the smile growing across their lips.
Gloomy paused. After a second, she snorted. “Sorry, that’s a lame way to die. Let me just-“ She stood up to jump off the edge. Stormy laughed loudly in surprise.
She watched Wilbur roll his eyes, an amused smile playing at his lips. Even Townnie, who had been slow to trust after the incident, was laughing. (Schlatt, of course, was asleep.)
Everything will be okay.
◤─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◥
I used to hear a simple song,
The room was quiet, nobody but Gloomy occupying the empty place. The book in her hands was leather-bound, her quill dark in colour. The feather danced across the page as she wrote.
There was a knock at the door.
Townnie opened the door, a friendly smile stretched across their face. “Are you coming?”
That was until you came along.
She shut the book with a small click. It was easily thrown to the side as she stood up to reach the figure in the doorway. “Of course, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
Now in it’s place is something new,
Gloomy let Townnie guide her to the Whore House, their grip lose on her wrist but strong on her heart. Her chest was so warm, a stark contrast to the icy cold of the voices clawing her to insanity.
I hear it when I look at you.
◤─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◥
The potion in her hands felt heavy, its purple sheen innocent compared to its effects. A transparent hand reached out and grabbed her shaking hands.
Oh, she didn’t realise she was shaking.
Wilbur smiled down at her, reassuring her nerves slightly. He gave this to her, it’ll be fine.
But it’ll be so different.
It was like her body couldn’t decide between being excited and being ready to have a panic attack from her anxiety. The click of a pen interrupted her mindless thought.
“Are you ready?” Keyn asked. A potion of similar nature was held in their grip.
Gloomy weakly smiled. “As ready as i’ll ever be. Cheers.”
They clinked their potions together and without further hesitation, downed the purple substance.
__________
“You’re here.”
The glass of the bottle was shattered into pieces on the ground. Not like it mattered in comparison of what she could see.
Wilbur, in all of his glory, stood in front of her. He-
He looked alive.
He was alive.
They-
They were separate, now.
Her eyes became wet as the reality set in. “Holy shit,” she croaked. “Oh my fucking god.”
Gloomy turned to see Keyn hugging Schlatt, who’s skin was vibrant and bright with life.
They were here.
It was over.
Wilbur held his arms out, a charming smile graced across his lips. “Well?”
She threw herself into his opaque arms, her breath shaky like the rest of her body. It was so warm, so achingly hot her skin almost burned from the contact but she craved it so long after sharing a body.
She didn’t think she could ever be cold again.
◤─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◥
The day Wilbur and Schlatt left was a sad one, despite everyone knowing it was coming. Everyone had come down into the Cuck Shed for it, even a reluctant Townnie and Stormy, though the latter had to drag the former to say goodbye.
“Goodbye, devious Coin man,” Townnie said flatly. He was deadpan in his expression, something that looked admittedly strange in contrast to the flower crown she wore.
Stormy pulled them away from Schlatt, who looked vaguely amused. “Thanks for nothing, I guess. You were lowkey a bastard, but hey! I’m not one to hold grudges!”
Keyn snorted in surprise at the words. “Was that slash jay, Storm man?”
The man in question glared at Keyn, face and voice monotone. “Yes.”
Schlatt huffed. “Fine, I get it. I’m not as adored as loverboy over here.” He motioned to Wilbur, who was smiling intently at Gloomy, the latter wearing the former’s trenchcoat. Her arms were wrapped around his tall frame in a hug.
“Simp,” Townnie stage whispered. Keyn elbowed her.
“Careful, don’t want Gloomy to hear you,” they joked.
“Hear what?” As if on cue, she joined their conversation, Wilbur trailing behind with a melancholy smile.
“Nothing,” Keyn grinned.
“It doesn’t matter,” Schlatt huffed. “You ready to go, loverboy?”
Wilbur hugged Gloomy one last time. “We’ll meet again, I promise.”
They let go of each other, and Keyn handed both of them one final potion, blue in colour.
“Bottoms up,” Schlatt grinned.
Seems so fitting for a happily ever after.
◤─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◥
It was the end, then.
Gloomy sighed to herself, kicking the door shut. She opened her fist, staring at the necklace that sat innocently.
It was all over.
Wilbur embraced her tightly, the hold achingly warm as she immediately leaned into it.
“I apologise for leaving,” he spoke lowly. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could stay.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I know you do.”
He hugged her tighter, as if to reassure himself she was here.
“It’s you,” he said with a smile, his eyes glossy with tears. “Despite everything, it’s still you.”
She buried her face into Wilbur’s jacket, her tears wetting the fabric. The smell of cigarettes and books was prominent but to her, it smelled like a home.
“It’s over, isn’t it?” She laughed sadly into his jacket.
“It doesn’t have to be.” His chin rested on her head. He was close enough that she could feel the vibrations of his voice.
She hummed in response, not even bothering to lift her head. She huffed when he forced her up. Gloomy watched him yank his jacket off, lifting her arms as he wrapped it around her frame. He pulled out a choker style locket, placing it in her hands. She opened it out of curiosity.
Magic runes laced the jewellery, the item expensive enough that there was even an emerald embedded into the locket.
“You can reach me with this,” Wilbur explained. “You aren’t alone, even if i’m a dimension away.”
She wiped a few tears away, clicking the locket shut. She barrelled into him for a hug.
“And the universe said I love you,” she whispered so quietly she wasn’t even sure he heard it. The only confirmation he heard was when he hugged Gloomy back tighter.
She clasped the locket onto her neck, the jewellery fitting perfectly on her.
Her room was thick with the smell of cigarettes and old books as she took a deep breath. She pulled Wilbur’s jacket around her tighter.
Gloomy smiled and grabbed her leather-bound book, unhooking her quill from its latched place.
And the universe said I love you because you are love.
◤─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◥
Years passed since Wilbur and Schlatt left their lives, down in small-town Boneless. It took months for the four of them to fix their little server- physically, at least.
(Gloomy saw the way Keyn sometimes stood in front of the long abandoned Cuck Shed. She knew there was still an ache in the ram’s heart for the tyrant that possessed them.)
Nonetheless, years had past. The land changed over the time period, structures such as the Presidential Palace long abandoned. They were still there, of course- if just for the history behind the buildings.
The Cuck Shed has remained unoccupied for some time, though Gloomy suspects Keyn visits occasionally through waning mental health.
New additions were added to the server as well, ranging from a clocktower to something Keyn and Stormy wouldn’t stop calling a minion temple.
She had no idea what the point of it was, but Keyn insisted it was important.
Townnie’s part of the house was still unoccupied, after the years. A conversation they had- back while Gloomy was twenty two- led to them agreeing they needed to fix their relationship before anything else.
(That didn’t stop Townnie from dropping into the library every once in a while. Despite acting annoyed, Gloomy’s heart fluttered every moment the human showed trust.)
Funnily enough, as if on cue with Gloomy’s thoughts, there was a knock on her door.
She paused to stare at the door for a few moment, before standing up from her table, dropping her black feather quill on her leather bound book.
She turned the door handle to reveal bright blue eyes, followed by black fluffy hair and patches of blackened skin.
“Sup, Bambi,” Stormy greeted her, hands fidgeting with his tailcoat. His eyes, as usual, found their place staring at her mouth. She made sure to not meet his eyes as she nodded at him.
“What’s up, Stormy?” She greeted, noting how his tail was continuously moving.
He must be anxious, then.
The void spawn warbled, a hand reaching to run through his hair out of nervous habit. “Well, uh-“ He waved his hand around, struggling with his words.
Gloomy stepped out of the way of the door, allowing Stormy to step into her home. He sat on her table in the center of the room, pulling his legs up and crossing them automatically. She huffed and shut the door behind her.
“So,” she spoke. “What’s got you so nervous?”
“Keyn and I are renewing our vows soon,” he blurted, tapping his fingers against the wooden table.
The witch paused. Oh, oh.
Laughter filled the air as she struggled to contain her giggles, the void spawn huffing in embarrassment.
“Shut up you two toned bitch,” he sputtered. He folded his arms and whipped his head to the side, ineffectively covering the dark blush covering his skin.
“Stormy! Are you embarrassed?” she giggled.
He groaned, flopping backwards onto the table. Gloomy’s book was barely out of his range; she grabbed it and slide it onto a barrel next to her.
“Listen, listen, it’s fine,” she grinned, amusement playing at her lips. He sat up, watching as she sat at the table next to him.
“Is there a reason you’re nervous about this?”
He pressed his lips into a thin line for a moment, before sighing. “Well,” his hands fidgeted. “Keyn’s twenty-six now. And-“ he waved his hand between the two of them. “We haven’t aged a day. But Keyn?” His hand clenched into a fist, banging against his thigh. “Keyn’s getting older. I guess i’m just- fuckin scared, I guess.”
Gloomy frowned. She understood what he meant- understood perfectly, actually. The thought rang through her head more often than she liked to admit.
Nonetheless, she placed her hands on Stormy’s knees. “Bud, hey, it’s alright.” Her smile was soft, matching her silk tone. “I’ve got to be honest- I’ve had the same thoughts. But if there’s one thing Wilbur has taught me, it’s to live. You know damn well that Keyn- and Townnie- would want you to be happy no matter what. Don’t be afraid for something that hasn’t happened. You’ve spent this long, scraping by life, when is it time for you to control it yourself?”
“I thought I took control when I stopped drinking,” Stormy deadpanned.
She slapped his leg softly. “Bastard, you know that’s not what I meant. I guess what I’m trying to say is… live life to your fullest. Don’t worry about the future- appreciate the moment, ay? Besides, if I’m to be honest, the pain will fade with time.”
He slowly nodded. “Yeah… yeah. Sure, I guess that makes sense.” He smiled at Gloomy, jumping off the table. “Thanks, Bambi.”
“For the love of the gods, stop calling me that-“
◤─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◥
If I could begin to be,
“Stormy, this was probably coming for a long time at this point.”
Half of what you think of me
Keyn stood at wedding arch that stood just barely across from the long abandoned Therapist Office. Stormy stood across from them, wringing his tail with his hands.
I could do about anything,
“I’ve missed you,” the ram spoke softly, as if afraid that speaking louder would scare the words away from them. “When we met I was filled with such…” they waved their hand around. “-such fulfilment, that has never gone away.”
I could even learn how to love
They laughed to themself, staring Stormy in the eyes. For once, he stared back.
When I see the way you act,
“When everything got fucked up I was so fucking lost in my actions, and for the longest time, I couldn’t figure out why or what it was. But I know now that it was because I didn’t have you by my side.”
Wondering when I’m coming back
Keyn interlocked their hands with Stormy’s, thumb brushing gently against the back of his hand.
I could do about anything,
“You were the one I was missing, and I’m ashamed it took me until it was over to figure it out.”
I could even learn how to love like you.
They tightened their grip on the void spawn’s hands, eyes baring holes into his eyes.
I always thought I might be bad,
“Everyday I regret everything that’s happened over the years, especially under Schlatt’s influence. I treated everyone, especially you, horribly and when I tried to fix it?” They laughed again.
Now I’m sure that it’s true.
“I managed to fuck it up more. But look at you! Look at us!” Keyn smiled, eyes glossy with tears.
‘Cause I think you’re so good (and I’m nothing like you.)
“Thank you. Thank you for everything, Stormy. Thank you for staying, despite everything.” Keyn wrapped their arms around the lanky figure of Stormy. “I love you.”
Look at you go, I just adore you
Stormy pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket, taking a moment to smooth out the crinkles.
I wish that I knew,
“Uh,” he paused. “Fuck, this is harder than I thought.”
What makes you think I’m so special.
The ram chuckled. “Just try your best, bestie.”
If I could begin to do
He took a deep breath. “I guess I should start this out with thank you. Thank you for sticking through everything, even though I still have no fucking clue what I’m doing half the time.”
Something that does right by you
“You’re the only one who didn’t try to kill me on fight sight, though I’m sure you thought about it-“ He laughed to himself.
I would do about anything
“It was a first for me. You were my first everything, and I’m so glad that it was you.”
I would even learn how to love
“It’s you,” Stormy smiled, eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Despite everything… it’s still you.”
When I see the way you look,
He paused a moment to calm his breathing. Keyn placed a hand on his reassuringly.
Shaken by how long it took
“If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be here right now, truly living my life. I’d probably be drunk, void knows where-“
I could do about anything
He tore his eyes off the page to lock eyes with the ram once again. His tail wrapped tightly around his leg.
I could even learn how to love like you
“Thank you for showing me what it means to live.”
Love me like you.
◤─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◥
Time waits for no one, and there isn’t exceptions.
Gloomy never truly understood the saying, never had let it sink in. But suddenly, months crawled into years and in the blink of an eye, ten years creeps by.
It happened too fast, she felt. Despite that, age was gradual in its approach, snaking up around the group and capturing her painfully mortal friends.
Aging was unfamiliar to her, being immortal at twenty-one. Staring at her friends, she felt as if she was back in time.
They’re all in their late thirties, now. At least, she should be, but what she lacks in appearance of age she makes up for in mentality.
(Stormy, the lovely bastard, was just the same as well. Besides looking as if age weighed him down, the void spawn looked to be plucked out of the past as well.)
Despite being the two oldest, Stormy and Gloomy became the youngest friends.
It was off putting, seeing the world around her change while she remained the same. The wood on her house rotted a bit, something she felt strange changing.
(If she hasn’t changed, why does her house change?)
Townnie is no longer the same person they used to be, the baby fat that clung to her face finally gone. His eyes were more tired, Gloomy noted. Tired, yet still filled with hope and light.
The locks of hair, previously shoulder length, had been long gone. He kept it closer to a bob now, something that had came to be on complete accident, when they got their hair stuck in a paper shredder.
(Nobody could stop laughing about it for days.)
Townnie was found wearing baggy pants and light coloured jumpers. The cold licked at her bones as time caught up, though it did nothing to stop him.
It was uncanny, how despite time and its changes, it was still Townnie. The now thirty-six year old still chased bees and picked flowers like nothing could stop him.
Gloomy admired that.
She often found herself following her soulmate along, gladly carrying a basket as the shorter of the two frantically dug every flower in sight out of the ground.
Keyn also changed significantly in ten years. Somewhere along the timeline, they had stopped dying their hair the bright yellowy blond, leaving it to its natural dusty roots. Time did nothing to their humour, the ram cracking stupid jokes like there was no tomorrow.
Aged like fine wine, Gloomy would say.
They were grown now, no longer young or foolish in their ways. She can’t ignore the envy that edges her laughter as she hears one of Keyn’s jokes, or watches Townnie get stung by yet another bee.
A wandering traveler passed through their town, and she couldn’t stop the bitterness in how they asked if she was Townnie’s younger sister.
How did ten years pass so quickly?
She doesn’t even seem to get a moment to breathe, because suddenly the universe decided her time was running out and soon she’s mistakened to be Keyn’s niece.
They all reach their forties, and while hints of smile lines grow on Keyn and Townnie, Gloomy remains looking a day over twenty-one.
Even the buildings, the cracking stone of the Whore House, or the dirtying quartz of Town Hall, seem to grow weary with age.
Townnie stops wearing a flower crown, and Keyn starts to braid their hair more often.
She once helped place flowers throughout the braid, letting Townnie pick the flowers. Stormy would watch fondly, laying on the floor in peace.
Keyn’s awfully sensitive to the weather most days, flip-flopping from wearing a jumper to a t shirt at the whim.
They’ve had problems ever since Schlatt, something that the three others were quick to accommodate.
If Keyn had a fever, Gloomy would stay up all night to keep replacing a cool towel to their forehead.
If they had the flu, Stormy would stay up and cuddle up to Keyn, keeping a bucket close by.
If Keyn felt like laying in their bed all day, Townnie would sit on the chair closest to their bed and read stories out loud for them to listen to peacefully.
They would do everything to keep the ram well and happy, and it was moments like those that gave Gloomy a true sense of humanity.
She’s supposed to be around forty-three, she thinks. Her friends have become a benchmark for how old she’s supposed to be, something she knew wasn’t the healthiest.
The witch knew she was running on borrowed time, but she didn’t think it would be this quickly.
Eventually she is mistaken for a daughter, something she’d snarl and growl at.
Deep down in her heart she felt the ache at the thought that everything else was growing with time, but here she was, standing frozen in the midst.
Light wrinkles dot her friends faces, and she can spot graying patches in Townnies hair. Gloomy finds her reading more books to Keyn when the ram is unable to read them their self.
They all knew the effect that Schlatt posed onto them; they all knew they day would eventually arrive.
She just wishes this wasn’t where they had to find themselves now.
The ram in question was bedridden, shivering under thick covers as Stormy sits in the chair by their side. The two had their hands interlocked, the void spawn’s head dipped to clink their weddings bands on their horns together.
His large hand squeezed Keyn’s frail hand reassuringly, his thumb stroking the back of their hand.
Townnie sat on the other side, hair pulled back in a small ponytail. His lips were pressed together grimly, and his hands refusing to stop picking at his own cuticles.
Gloomy stood next to the human, hand resting on their shoulder.
The scenario felt so familiar to the many times Keyn would get sick with a cold, but the heavy cloud looming above them all spoke the truth.
She could see pictures of the four of them from early twenties, grimacing as she realises she looks as if those pictures were taken a mere few days prior instead of decades in the past.
A cough erupts her thoughts, and her eyes shoot down to her bedridden friend. The cracks in her face that had long closed had reopened, and she frowned even more as she saw the inky black trail down her mouth like it was blood.
She shut her eyes tightly, as if not seeing what was happening before her eyes would prevent it from occurring. The witch focused her thoughts on Chirp playing out of the jukebox in the corner of the bedroom, the nostalgic notes echoing in the air.
“I- I don’t want to say goodbye,” Townnie sniffled, raising a hand to cover their eyes.
A weak laugh, followed by a hiss of pain, was the reply, “I mean, we all knew this would happen eventually, didn’t we?”
Keyn’s voice was strained and weak, but worst of all, it was resigned. Gloomy’s heart pounded in her frozen chest, and she idly wondered if it popped out would she finally be allowed to rest.
Stormy feels something ugly rear up in him, and he glares down, his hand tightening around the ram. “How-“
He laughs bitterly, barely fighting the urge to punch a wall. He couldn’t do anything but yank at his hair, the white streak in his locks mocking his despair.
“Looks like chat’s gonna have 3/4 Nightlight Crew from now on,” Keyn spoke weakly, the attempt to replicate old banter sheer but nonetheless the friends take the bait.
It’s pathetic, and by the gods is it pointless, but just for a moment, Gloomy hopes.
She sees Stormy huff, his wet eyes tired and hazy. “Finally, chat’s been bugging me about taking your canon life. Too bad the-“ he warbled weakly. “Too bad sickness beat me to it.”
Keyn weakly laughed, their eyes shining with an acceptance that made Gloomy’s heart pang.
“I guess you can call them Sickeyning,” Townnie whispered.
Keyn coughed, smiling nonetheless. They’re all smiling- and for the moment they could ignore the heavy atmosphere.
“Fuck off, you look like you cut your hair off with- with a paper shredder.”
Laughter filled the room, and Gloomy flashes back to twenty years ago, when they all hung out on the Tower of Terror.
It’s eerily reminiscent of the hangouts they’d all do, except the laughter is older, deeper, and significantly sadder.
Gloomy blatantly ignores the dread filling the pit in her stomach, instead listening to Keyn hum to Chirp.
Why’d it have to be so soon? Why now? Why Keyn?
“Hey, Townnie, Stormy, Gloomy?” The ram in question calls, a smile on their face. The three of them stare attentively, nobody finding their voice to speak. Stormy urges them to continue.
“Take care of each other when I’m gone, would you?”
At the request, Townnie begins to sob, a frail hand holding her head as tears fall onto the bedsheets.
Gloomy feels her heart freeze, the ice slowing her body down; yet she nods. Swallowing, she speaks quietly. “Of course, bestie.”
She’s practically buzzing with restrained anger. She’s angry, the rage bubbling out of her like a pot of boiling water. Why did they have to die so young? Why, why, why?
Why did they have to be withering to death? Why did Keyn have to be so…human?
Because that’s what it is, really. Despite everything, despite being a ram hybrid, despite falling off a cliff and surviving, Keyn is so painfully human and all humans fall to the same fate.
Gloomy hates that it’s so natural, so easy to explain. She hates how she’s staring at Keyn, stuck to her bed in invisible chains, mere moments before death.
She wants to be able to blame it on someone else, some tyrant, but she knows that none of them wanted this. She couldn’t blame Schlatt when he himself didn’t ask for this.
Maybe it would be easier if she knew she would one day join the ram, if she could place comfort in the fact that she could meet Keyn in Death’s realm.
But she couldn’t, and she wasn’t human and was immortal.
A curse in disguise.
Acid burns in her mouth as she realises the reality of her situation. Wilbur was wrong, and as she stared at Keyn’s dying form, she’d argue nothing was worth watching her best friends die before her while she remained young.
Immortality wasn’t worth it, Wilbur.
Her thoughts fly by and she can only think about how little time Townnie will have. Humanity was so unpredictable, and she could die tomorrow.
Chirp stops playing, and she pauses to stare at it. Hesitantly, she leans over to replay the disc.
She doesn’t turn back around, facing the jukebox as she listens to Townnie’s wails over the music.
As Keyn’s form weakens, she listens to the music.
The three of them refuse to leave the ram’s side, the group of friends sitting quietly as Chirp fills the silence.
Keyn passes away at 2:56 am later that night.
And if Gloomy breaks down into hysterical sobs immediately after, with one less friend to comfort her agony,
that was between her and the gods.
◤─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◥
There’s no sunshine,
Time is a puppeteer, and everyone is its marionettes.
This impossible year.
Keyn was buried under the big willow tree, next to Stormy’s grave that lacks a body resting underneath. Their headstone was surrounded by Celosias, a flower Townnie said the ram had adored.
Only black days and sky gray,
Nobody had the heart to go through the deceased’s belongings for the first few weeks. The only thing that left Keyn’s house was their dogs that Stormy had taken in.
And clouds full of fear.
Weeks turned into months and suddenly there’s dust coating the once lively house, and Gloomy watches Stormy leave his Tavern for the empty building.
And storms full of sorrow,
She watches him stare at the house, before he simply sits next to the dirtied pond.
That won’t disappear.
He holds his beloved axe, Stormbreaker, in his hands, and she watches with an ache as he pulls the wedding band off his horn.
Just typhoons and monsoons,
Gloomy stays watching Stormy sit in front of Keyn’s empty home like a dog awaiting its owner.
(Except they both knew the owner would never return, nor could they even if they wanted to.)
This impossible year.
◤─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◥
And time continues on.
The atmosphere of their town had shifted with the death, Gloomy notes.
She knows she isn’t the same either, as she can’t help but eye the lines running deep on Townnie’s face, as they tend to the bees behind their home.
Roughly a year after Keyn’s death, the human had moved back into her side of the conjoined house, and Gloomy couldn’t push down the rare burst of happiness that reared its head.
She clung to them almost embarrassingly, though he never seemed to mind.
Stormy showed up less frequently than he did years ago, though as time continued on, he appeared more often than not.
He wore his wedding band as a necklace, now. The light weight against his chest served as a reminder of what once was.
(She heard him some nights, screaming at the walls raw, voice echoing and cracking in a way that sounded nearly as painful as it must’ve felt.)
His hair was long enough for a man bun, now; something that Keyn had always asked the void spawn to do but never did.
She never saw him without it, now.
Stormbreaker was also always hooked onto his back, the extra weight doing nothing to slow him down.
And time continued on.
With one friend down, Gloomy can’t help but notice the imperfections of humanity, how Townnie ages with the building around the friends, how they remain human.
Where Gloomy remains unchanged, even after crying and screaming, the human beside them is not the same.
It’s a testament to humanity’s imperfections, and how does she miss being imperfect.
She watches, after nicking herself accidentally with a blade, how the wound never leaves a scar.
Silently, she curses Wilbur.
Rage fills her body as she stares in the mirror, face unmarred by time and the locket around her neck shining as always.
If she ever saw him again, somehow, she might cry. Not from sadness, never from sadness, but from raw, brutal anger.
It’s unbelievable how the world works, how in the eyes of humans around the friends, they were something completely different from what they truly were. Because while in the eyes of each other, they were old friends, the world sees them as a parent and their daughter with her husband.
She cries and cries, wailing at the world to stop. The universe mocks Gloomy, as another traveler mistakes her to be something she’s not.
Keyn was Stormy’s partner, not Gloomy. She watches as the void spawn shuts down at the mention of the ram, how he snaps quickly at everyone and holes up in the Tavern.
Still, as months of mourning become years, Gloomy knows things are bound to fall apart even more. As her endless book of life turns another chapter, she struggles to keep up.
The world continues to spin, and she must sprint to follow in suit.
A year past Keyn’s death left the fresh wound of death painful, a subject hard to approach.
But fifteen years down the line, as Gloomy stands at fifty-eight, she finds it harder to revolve her world around their death.
They can never truly forget, how could they? But as she helps Townnie down the ladder of his home, she wonders if this is what the world set her up for.
It pains her how she can no longer remember the details of her fallen friend’s expression, how she can no longer remember the exact shade their hair was. She can only remember the vague structure the ram had, how they had two sets of horns and bright blue eyes, despite one becoming yellow.
It fills her with some sort of existential horror, how with time she can no longer remember her friend the same anymore.
And time moves on.
Townnie is fifty-seven, and she stares grimly at how the human sometimes struggles to walk down stairs, how they no longer have the mobility to chase bees and instead clings to tending to flowers.
She wonders if he notices everytime the witch freezes when he falls ill, how she panics and nurses him back to health almost desperately.
Townnie never says a word negatively against Gloomy and Stormy, even as another decade passes, and suddenly the human is sixty-seven. Even as time continues on, the three friends stay strong as ever.
Gloomy idly thinks about when Townnie once joked about the two of them being a shield protecting the latter’s humanity. She starts to wonder if it was more truth than initially thought.
Townnie, the blessed soul, still smiles the same as before. She’s the witch’s tether to humanity, the only one keeping her from falling apart most days. They break jokes like it’s nothing, hugs her like it’s nothing, and continues to live like it’s nothing.
Gloomy walks the streets of Boneless early one morning, taking in the cool spring air. She felt pretty okay, for once, and the emotion filled her with hope for once in her life.
As she picks a few Primrose flowers for her soulmate, she reconsiders Wilbur’s words from forty years ago.
Maybe it was worth living, if for the simple things of humanity.
She tucks a cornflower behind her ear and continues along the old mismatched path, her feet taking her to the gates of her home.
As she walks on, she idly thinks about how it would be the perfect day to visit Keyn’s grave, with how lovely the weather was.
Perhaps Townnie could help her plant a few more flowers around the headstone. The old celosias were wilting a bit, she thinks.
Her smile is wistful, as she walks up the stairs to the conjoined house. She takes her time, looking around her estate as she has a million times before.
She hates how slow Keyn had died, almost like the universe slowed time down to watch the moment they’ve been waiting for. It felt unfair, and Gloomy wonders if it was her fault.
The ram was surely in a better place, as the common saying went. If it meant they didn’t have to live an eternity, surely it was better than this agony.
She adjusts the flowers in her grip and opened Townnie’s door, her heart fluttering as she sees them asleep, bent over the coffee table.
Sometimes, death is gradual, like a story and the universe was the author.
Other times, it is abrupt and angry, like the universe cut the strings of its marionette.
And Gloomy’s heart pounds in her ears as she lifts Townnie’s frail head, alarmed as the human fails to open their eyes.
There was two bodies in the room, yet only one had a beating heart.
Death could be compared to a fire being snuffed out, as the light faded away, as the crackling ceases its life, as the imprint of a life recently taken away.
Townnie was dead.
And Gloomy was too late.
She was too fucking late and the illusion of everything being okay shatters, as she holds the dead body to her chest.
She screams, voice cracking as she holds a hand to the human’s chest desperately. She shakes them violently, rocking the body like a newborn baby in a crib.
Gloomy was always one to be in denial with reality, with her head too far up in the clouds.
Because no matter how much she begs, how much she screams and cries, she never stood a chance against time.
She never got to say goodbye.
She did not get the luxury of being there in Townnie’s dying moments, didn’t get to have one last I love you. She feels nothing but the bubbling regret as she holds her painfully human friend in her arms.
If only she didn’t stop for flowers, if only she had checked Townnie sooner, she knew they were getting older-
Her face is pressed against the soft, pale blue jumper of her friend, tears soaking through the fabric.
Stormy didn’t even know.
She hoped, if just for one moment, she could catch a breath.
Because with a stray thought she realises she has no idea what Townnie’s last words were, or the time of their death, or if Townnie even knew it was happening before their heart failed to beat.
A lifetime of laughter at the expense of the death of a bachelor.
◤─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◥
Come rest your bones next to me,
Townnie was buried next to Keyn, under that willow tree that swallowed the sun.
And toss all your thoughts to the sea.
Gloomy spent hours carefully planting the primroses she had brought for her soulmate, unknowing of their fate. They were planted around the headstone carefully.
I’ll pull up each of our anchors
A flower crown of roses rested on the headstone, the flowers preserved for eternity by the witch’s magic.
So we can get lost, you and me.
Tears slipped down her face, as she stood with Stormy, staring down at the graves of her friends.
My heart is buried in Venice.
◤─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◥
The world was quiet, something that reminded Gloomy painfully of the end when Stormy had fallen into the void.
She doesn’t know how long it’s been, whether it’s days or months or even years. Her tether to humanity left her, and she’s left a shattered mess with nobody to pick up the pieces.
The world was grey, and as Mellohi rings in her ears she can’t help but wonder if she killed herself enough would she finally leave the world permanently.
Earth was a story, and she wishes she wasn’t playing a character in it.
She wondered if she was the villain, and this was her tragic backstory.
Her thoughts trail back to forty years ago, when Wilbur possessed her body. The voices whispered and snaked around her body like chains she couldn’t break.
Gloomy screamed in agony, fist swinging and there is a crack as the drywall breaks under her hand.
And then there is a sound.
Her ear flicks, and she turns her head in the direction to see Stormy.
Stormy, who was still wearing his black suit from Townnie’s funeral.
Neither of the immortals say anything, Mellohi consistent in its notes. The dreary music plays on like there is no tomorrow.
Stormy sits in the same spot he sat forty years ago, back when she was twenty-seven. It was so innocent back then, listening to him talk about how he was nervous to renew his vows.
But this was not the same, she thinks. His expression is bitter and cold, as he makes eye contact with Gloomy. It’s unsettling, despite the witch being someone to frequent eye contact, she knew Stormy was not.
“You fucking lied to me,” he spoke at last.
She’s almost off guard to hear his voice, after so long of sitting in silence. Nonetheless, she replies. “What do you mean?”
His fangs are bared in an angry frown. “You told me the pain would lessen with time. You told me to live life without worries!” He banged the table with his fist.
She paused. Oh.
“Townnie’s only just died, mate-“
“NO!” His voice cracked as he snarled. “Look at where you have gotten us! Look around, Gloomy! Our friends are fucking dead and neither of us know what to do!”
He paused in his words to inhale a ragged breath. “You fucked us over, Gloomy.”
“Wilbur said-“
“Wilbur doesn’t fucking know what he’s talking about because he’s a psychotic asshole that doesn’t understand how the fucking world works because he has daddy issues! You listened to him and landed us in this situation!”
“What was I supposed to do? Keyn and Townnie were human, Stormy. They were doomed to fall to the same destruction everyone else falls to!” Gloomy cried, her heart thumping faster in her chest.
“You could have asked Wilbur to make them immortal as well,” Stormy hissed. He stood tall now, practically towering over the witch.
Despite knowing he would never hurt her, she felt a twinge of fear in that moment.
“It’s not my fault,” she repeated weakly, glaring daggers at the void spawn.
He inhaled sharply, and she watched as his hands shook. Stormy turned suddenly, ripping his axe off his back and threw it down.
It narrowly missed Gloomy, embedding into the wood floors next to her and she couldn’t help but wonder if he missed on purpose or not.
They locked eyes again.
“I need to leave,” Stormy muttered. He ripped the axe out of the floor, and without another word, slammed her door shut.
Seems so fitting for a happily ever after.
◤─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◥
She walked around the dead town, her steps quiet against the resting soil.
She stops.
Her eyes bore holes into the buildings in the center of the town, scanning the rotting materials with tired eyes.
Gloomy’s eyes land on the Whore House.
“For the last time, it’s not a house. It’s a home, you two toned bitch.”
His tone was light, and a smile was spread across his face. Keyn snorted from their seat, shuffling their cards in their hands.
“Yeah, yeah. Are you dealing me in, mate?” Gloomy grinned, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes.
“Sit next to me, Gloomy! We can cheat together!” Townnie cheered. The room erupted into various voices, loud but unthreatening.
The only witness was the multi coloured lights of the Whore Home.
She immediately looked away, eyes burning. She instead stared at the Attorneys Office.
“I just want to see my kids again,” Stormy deadpanned.
Keyn choked in surprise, Gloomy raising an eyebrow. “What?-“
Stormy nodded, his expression very serious. “It’s like an orphanage; you make the bastards and we take them, except it’s an attorney and I want a divorce and my kids.”
Keyn wheezed, wiping a tear from their eye. “What kids?- Stormy, you were literally telling me how you wanted to dropkick a toddler the other day-“
Stormy reached under the desk, gripping and yanking Townnie up by her striped shirt. “I found my kid.”
Townnie waved. “He gave me crayons and a colouring book.”
Gloomy turned suddenly and sprinted down the old woven path, nearing tripping on her own feet. She stopped in front of the lake across from Stormy’s Tavern.
“This is Unsanitary Lake.”
Keyn held a pink axolotl in their hands, legs knee deep in the water. Their grin was wide, pearly whites shining in the sun.
Gloomy held a brown axolotl, ignoring the white animal at her feet attempting to climb her. “That’s brilliant, bestie.” She motioned to the axolotl in her hands. “I’m naming him Diarhea.”
Keyn laughed, holding their axolotl out. “This is Eraser.”
The witch snorted, amusement tugging at her lips. “Y’know, Stormy and Townnie are gonna kill us when they see all these axolotls.”
Keyn waved a hand, dropping Eraser into the water and watching him swim away. “They can’t do shit, bitch.”
Her breath was heavy as she turned away yet again, running across the bridge and stopping in front of the Frog Pond.
“Frog pond!” Stormy cheered, clutching a cross eyed frog between his hands.
“Frog pond?” Gloomy questioned, dipping her hand into the water.
The void spawn nodded frantically. “We turned the frogs gay, Bambi.”
Her walk down the path was sad, resigned. Each foot stepped lightly, almost as if she was afraid to disturb the paths she set down decades ago.
She stopped in front of a broken mountain.
“Townnie, I want you to run as far as you can, alright bud?”
The human froze. “W-What? Stormy, what are you-“
The void spawn bent down to reach Townnie’s level, putting his hands on her shoulders.
“I need you safe. Please, I need you to trust me on this.” His voice was desperate, a twinge of resignation.
Nobody could tell what made the human listen, but Stormy watched grimly as Townnie stepped off the podium, tears filling her eyes.
He looked to the crowd.
There was a smile on his face, not one friendly, instead, a dangerous, toothy smile.
“This government ends here.” Stormy said. Stormy smiled. Stormy pressed the button.
Gloomy collapsed to her knees in front of the broken mountain, where the podium once stood.
Where her friends once stood, where her friends once were alive.
◤─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◥
Wasting your time,
Time proves it will never cease its fire and months go by.
You’re wasting mine.
The once four friends was reduced to two, and it leaves Gloomy bitter as she stares at all of the abandoned buildings in their small town.
I hate to see you leaving,
Stormy hasn’t been seen in a week, and it was safe to say Gloomy was getting concerned. Being immortal didn’t mean taking care of yourself was an option.
A fate worse than dying.
She first knocked on the Tavern door, waiting a moment to see if he would answer. When he ultimately didn’t, she took it as an invitation to open the door.
Your city gave me asthma
The Tavern was quiet upon entry. No cats meowing, no dogs, nothing. It was…
Unsettling, her mind supplied.
So that’s why I’m fucking leaving
She headed to the downstairs, climbing down the stairs like her life depended on it. Her eyes scanned every room, her chest feeling more and more panicked with no sign of Stormy.
And your water gave me cancer,
Gloomy found herself in the void spawn’s bedroom. Her heart dropped when she found the room just as empty as the other rooms.
And the pavement hurt my feelings.
She paused.
There was a note on the bed.
Shout at the wall-
She picked up the folded up piece of paper, barely acknowledging the messily written Gloomy at the top of the page.
‘Cause the walls don’t fucking love you.
And so she read.
Gloomy,
I… I wish there was an easier way to say this. Really, I do.
I’m just gonna be blunt on this one. By the time you are reading this, I will have been long gone. I decided to return to the end.
I can’t fucking take this anymore, Gloom. This world, it’s tearing me apart. And I know I can’t use my words as well as you and Keyn but the truth of the matter is I cannot remain here any longer.
You’ve led us to a march to our own demise, and I feel like sitting ducks waiting to see what agony happens next.
You were there for me when Keyn and I renewed our vows. You were there when the voices got bad in the end. I sacrificed myself for you, only to learn you were immortal this whole time.
Sometimes I wonder if you did know the whole time. It’s pretty fucking hard to miss a gold heart on your wrist, damnit.
This has already gone on long enough. Take this as a note to figure things out yourself, because I’m sick of letting you lead us to hell.
Your obedient servant,
Stormy.
The paper crinkled in her hands, wet droplets smudging the ink.
There’s a reason that London puts barriers on the tube line
(There’s a reason they fail.)
◤─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◥
Do I look lonely?
Gloomy sat alone at the bar table, swirling a wine glass filled with a red liquid. The music in the bar was turned impossibly loud, and she could feel the beginning of a headache form.
I see the shadows on my face.
The names of her friends haven’t been spoken in over a century now, as she sits in a pub resting in the heart of a city called Las Navadas.
People told me I don’t look the same
The bartender cleaned glasses on the other side of the table, and she watches him idly, nursing that wine of hers.
Maybe I lost weight,
She tenses as she hears the stool next to her scoot against the floor, and with dread she turns to see who sat next to her.
I’m playing hooky with the best of the best.
It’s an enderman hybrid, half the face black and their hair completely black aside from a white streak.
She feels anger boil in her chest.
Put my heart on my chest so that you can see it too
Before the hybrid next to her can say a word, she stands quickly, slamming a few golden coins on the counter.
I’m walking the long road, watching the sky fall
“Thanks for the drink, bartender, but I really must be going.” Her voice is silky smooth, layered with a thick accent similar to what Wilbur’s once was.
The lace in your dress tangles my neck, how do I live?
She eyes the hybrid, who’s face mirrored a sad disappointed emotion as she walks away. She slams the door to the pub shut, and with that, she’s on the streets of Las Navadas.
The death of a bachelor-
It’s fairly busy in the city, the population larger than any small town. The city wasn’t anything to sneeze at, with its famous gambling industry and pubs for entertainment.
She walks through the alleyways, her figure reminiscent of a mugger to any civilian she passes.
Letting the water fall.
She adjusted her brown trenchcoat she wore over her yellow jumper and black corset. The chain that clasp the jacket shut clinked slightly in the movement.
The death of a bachelor-
Her heels clicked against the pavement as she continued through the alleyways. Gloomy took twists and turns, seemingly going in no direction.
She turned left one last time.
Seems so fitting for a happily ever after
The witch placed her hands on the side of a building, runes shining underneath her skin. The wall opened to reveal a staircase descending into the earth.
Gloomy smiled. The underground.
How could I ask for more?
She quickly made her way down the staircase, weaving through hallways and finding herself in the vast underground city its citizens called L’Manberg.
(She thought it was hilarious, how she’s come full circle back into her past, how L’Manberg was somehow still involved.)
A lifetime of laughter-
More walking led her to a tall, skinny building she called her home. She unlocked the door with a flick of her wrist and headed inside.
She sighed as she shut the door behind her, shoulders sagging with the weight of the world.
“I’ve been waiting for you, moonlight.”
Her heart froze.
At the expense of the death of a bachelor.
◤─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◥
“We’ll meet again, I promise.”
The words spoken to her centuries ago rang in Gloomy’s ear as she stood shock still, staring at the figure before her.
“Well?” Wilbur teased, a smirk playing at his lips. He held his arms out. “Miss me?”
She cannot move as their eyes remained locked on the other. She tries and begs her legs to move but they don’t and she’s helpless as Wilbur approaches her.
He’s as perfect as always, his youth frozen in time, capturing his beauty like a painting.
His hand cups her face and all of a sudden she can move and she shoves the man away from her.
(She ignores the pang of regret when she sees the flash of disappointment in his eyes.)
“You bastard,” Gloomy growled, glaring at the man.
Wilbur has the audacity to look confused. He puts a hand to his chest. “What? Moonlight, what have I done? I only just returned!”
“You-“ Her voice shook as she struggled to find her words. All of a sudden, a tsunami of her emotions bottling up over the centuries falls over, drowning them in its depths.
“You absolute cunt, Wilbur. You gave me this- this curse, of immortality! My friends are dead and gone! I can’t see them anymore! It’s all your fault!” Gloomy snarled.
Wilbur’s face lit up with understanding, before quickly falling. “Oh, moonlight,” he cooed, reaching out for the witch. To her dismay, she instantly fell into his arms, a wail escaping her throat. “Moonlight,” he repeated softly.
She hates how safe she feels in his arms, how comforting it is as he strokes her pink hair.
It’s agony for her but as she cries and wails into his jacket, she can’t help but feel like she’s contradicting herself.
“It’s alright, moonlight,” he cooed. “I’m here, I’m here.”
“I hate you,” she whispered, her fist clutching his sweater in a tight grip as she buried her face in the fabric.
“You don’t hate me,” Wilbur replied. He lifted her head, making her see that cursed smile of his.
“My friends are dead,” she said weakly, tears staining her face.
“Were your friends that important if you couldn’t even remember their faces?”
Her heart seized, her body tensing in his grip. “What?” she whispered.
Wilbur inched closer, his nose mere centimetres from her own. “I know you can’t remember the details of their faces. I know you haven’t spoken their names in centuries. But moonlight, pray tell, could you remember me?”
She did remember him. She remembered every inch of his face, of how his eyes flashed red with power, or how his glasses perched on his nose.
She knew who he was the instant she heard his fucking voice.
Gloomy’s silence spoke volumes for the man, and he chuckled to himself. His grip on her tightened as he pulled her closer to his chest.
“I’m sorry for ever leaving you. I had to make sure time passed before we met again- but here we are!” He laughed, a bright smile on his lips. “It can be just like old times, except we’re not sharing a body!”
The witch was filled with dread the more he spoke. She started squirming in his grip, only to immediately cease when he tightened his grip even more.
“It’s just us, moonlight,” Wilbur grinned.
She never thought the words would fill her with such dread.
◤─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◥
How has eternity become this, Gloomy thought as she stared at the sleeping form of Wilbur.
After leaving Boneless, she felt lost in her actions on where to go. It was her against humanity, and she was afraid to lose herself in the war.
She had stopped at her old home first.
The house was falling apart; wood from years past rotting with age, and the quartz were covered with grime and spider webs.
She stepped inside, grimacing at the rancid smell. Time did not do Fallen Kingdom well.
Gloomy filed through her old potions barrel, finding it bare, unsurprisingly. She glanced around, eyeing the old quartz stairs in the corner.
Her bedroom wasn’t in any better shape; the bed collapsed to the ground, the rug filled with dust.
A picture of Townnie and Gloomy at seventeen rested on the nightstand. She grimaced but pocketed it nonetheless.
Overall, the visit left her feeling worse for wear, but as her bones ached and as night fell, she couldn’t find it in her to care as she collapsed in the old couch downstairs.
The house went up in flames when she was done.
With nothing better to do, Gloomy traveled the world. She once found herself trapped in 2b2t- where they attempted to make use of her immortality by trying to kill her repeatedly.
(The anarchy server became a slaughterhouse; she walked out of the gates basking in the silence of her fallen enemies.)
Eventually, Gloomy found herself in Las Navadas, where she was now, watching Wilbur sleep.
Hands fidgeted with the locket around her neck, and despite walking the earth with humanity for centuries, she’s never felt more lost than she did now.
Wilbur was supposed to be the arsehole, the one who got her in this mess. But as she thought about how safe she felt in his arms, how relieved she felt watching him sleep, she couldn’t help but think back to a stray thought from years ago.
Was she the villain, and this was her backstory?
Was Wilbur returning the start of the next chapter?
Maybe she had the wrong thoughts this whole time. If- if she felt so safe with Wilbur, then why would he be wrong?
Because Wilbur holds her, and Wilbur loves her, and Wilbur treats her like she’s the world and more.
Gloomy’s head spins.
Eternity raises no saints.
◤─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◥
Wilbur has stayed at her house in L’Manberg for a few months now.
And those few months have been nothing short of confusing, Gloomy thinks. Her whole world has been flipped on its shoulders, and she suddenly feels young again.
Maybe it was seeing someone from her past, something she used to treasure and want to hold tightly.
She takes him to the pub she frequents, after several trials and errors. The man was like a child sometimes, the anxiety of seeing Wilbur not by her side sending her reeling.
Thankfully, the witch managed to get him to promise he won’t leave her side. And so far, it has rung true, as she laughs with him at the counter.
She’s filled with shining laughter, and maybe it was because of the moment, or Wilbur, or maybe even moving on, but Gloomy hasn’t thought about her friends in ages.
It’s to her complete and utter surprise when she feels a tap on her shoulder. She sees Wilbur glaring past her head, staring seemingly at the figure behind her.
She turns slowly, red wine in hand, as she reveals the stranger.
And for a moment, she doesn’t even realise.
Her eyes land on a long tailcoat, the design extremely outdated but still pleasantly fashionable. She sees patches of black skin across the man’s face; sees the pointed ears, horns, and piercing blue eyes. She sees the golden band hanging on a necklace and the black hair with that white streak tied in a bun.
And for a moment, she stares at the stranger in confusion.
She doesn’t know who this is, or why Wilbur seemed so angry at him. “Hello?” she hesitantly speaks.
The stranger warbled, his mouth creasing into a frown. “Gloomy, it’s me.”
And it all floods back to her.
She fills with a shocking cold as everything hits her at once, as she’s drenched in ice water.
“Stormy,” she whispered.
◤─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◥
Gloomy is angry.
She is oh, so angry as she sits across from Stormy, Wilbur by her side. The void spawn looks anxious, eyes shifting from her to the man next to her.
The bubbling rage fills her stomach, memories to the night she read Stormy’s note. She remembers the despair she felt in that moment, remembers how she killed herself in multiple different ways to try and leave this cursed world.
And Stormy sits in front of her, all too unaware of the catastrophe he caused for her.
“Why are you here?” she bit out, teeth clenched together so hard she wondered if they could shatter.
Stormy had the audacity to look surprised by her words, almost as if he expected her to welcome him with wide arms.
Gloomy feels Wilbur’s grip on her knee, the weight reassuring her that he was always going to be there.
The grip Wilbur had on her soul tightened.
Her hands shook uncontrollably, her body coursing with adrenaline the more she sat, unmoving.
“Stormy, what the fuck are you doing here?” she repeated.
“I-I came back. The end, it was-“ Stormy started.
“It was awful, wasn’t it? Is that what you were gonna say?” Gloomy cut him off.
She rose to her feet, Wilbur remaining sitting on the couch but keeping his eyes glued to the witch. She paid the man no mind.
“Stormy, you left me! You left me when I needed you most, and you think you can just fucking come back?”
“Gloomy, I’m sorry, I regret it everyday-“
“NO!” she snarled, taking a step forward. “You don’t get to apologise. You aren’t sorry, you wouldn’t have done it if you were sorry!”
Her hand glowed, and suddenly, her trident flew into her hands.
Loyalty III.
Stormy stood up from the couch, hands held out as if he was talking to a wild animal.
(And as his gaze shifted from Gloomy’s angry expression to Wilbur’s knowing smirk, he couldn’t help but feel like he was.)
“You don’t get to just come back and say you’re sorry,” Gloomy repeated.
“Gloomy-“
He was cut off by unsheathing his axe, blocking the trident coming in his direction with a clang.
He fought for his life, blocking Gloomy’s trident with Stormbreaker but ultimately, it was a lost cause.
Because he messed up his positioning once and that was all Gloomy needed to pin him to the wall with her trident.
His face paled as he stared at the angry eyes of his old friend, facing her own demise at the hands of a demigod.
Because he knew that’s what Wilbur was, as the man smirked victoriously at the void spawn. He knew how his father was the Angel of Death and how his mother was Death herself.
He knew how the voices raced through his head, controlling his every action.
He knew fighting Gloomy was a lost cause, but by the gods did he try.
The witch picked up his axe from the floor, scoffing as she noticed the same purple stain from his first death and the red stain from her suicide.
“This will be a little bit of a throwback, won’t it?” She sounded amused, as if she was making an old inside joke at Stormy.
It wasn’t a very funny joke, he thinks, as he is killed yet again by his own creation.
The room is silent, aside from Gloomy’s ragged breaths. Stormy’s form long since dissolved into nothingness, prepping for a respawn.
She relaxes when she feels Wilbur’s hand on her shoulder.
Gloomy practically collapsed into his grip, leaving the man to catch her effortlessly as she starts laughing.
She’s laughing, laughing, and laughing, and she can’t seem to stop.
Wilbur holds her close, and she feels tears fall down her face as she continues to laugh.
But that’s all it is, isn’t it?
Just Wilbur and Gloomy, against the rest of humanity.
Because eternity raises no saints, and Gloomy wasn’t quite made for the pearly white gates.