Work Text:
It had taken 6 days for Gin to admit that the Death Game was just too much for him.
He’d cried. He’d gotten frustrated at himself for crying. He’d slept through nightmares, and stared at the ceiling during the dreamless nights that suffocated him into exhaustion. But the night of the roulette game had taken its toll on him, and he couldn’t even find the strength to curl up against Mew-chan anymore.
It was late, as far as he could guess from how he felt. Likely later than his mother would have let him stay awake. The thought crossed his mind of her opening the door, giving him that look tinged ever-so-slightly with the disappointment he knew ran no further than surface level, as she’d take her seat beside him on the bed and read him a story to help him drift off. Sometimes it would help. Most times, he would amp himself up, cutting in too often to question the direction of the tale for it to help him go to sleep. Which, while not ideal, would often wear him out enough and he’d be asleep before she’d finish.
The thought lingered in his mind, settling with an ache in his chest that made him all too aware that there was no way she could appear. And even less of him wanted her to find him in a place like this.
He pulled his cape tighter around him, wrapped like the blanket he’d snuggle under every night. It was losing the smell of home, being slowly overtaken by the facility. He’d been careful with it — nothing and no one could touch it, not even the other blanket provided for him in his room. He was too scared of it rubbing away onto everything else, leaving it behind him as he would be inevitably ushered up to the next floor once again. The next horror he’d have to face, or watch others face in return.
Gin started to feel sick again.
Perhaps it was the sickness that caused his feet to move, shuffling so he could hop off of the bed with Mew-chan in tow. Or perhaps it was the loneliness finally taking its hold of him. But he didn’t care.
He’d held off from wandering to Sara’s room the entire game. It was clear, from the way she spoke, that she’d been taking the brunt of everything. Clear from how the Floormasters had tailored each event to hurt her in the worst way possible. He didn’t want to add to her worries, to make her feel any more responsibilities that she’d already carried.
Still, maybe she needed the company, too. It would be easy to send him away if that weren’t true, or to ignore the knock entirely.
His hand nestled on the cold wood of the door, mulling over his options once again. The chance to turn back was still there. She wasn’t aware of him standing outside of her room, and she never had to be. He could be brave alone.
The sound of his knuckles tapping against it echoed through the corridor, loud enough for him to hope that no one else heard. Soft enough to have hope it wasn’t.
It opened with a gentle creak, stopping a few inches from the door frame. If he squinted, he could just make out the figure of Sara, wearily scrutinising her midnight visitor. There was a moment where he wasn’t sure if she’d close the door at him, but her confusion dropped within seconds, and the gap widened until she was in full view.
”Gin, can’t you sleep?”
No sound came out of his throat. He just nodded, painfully aware of the quiet of the night air around him, as he hugged Mew-chan tighter to his chest, face nuzzled into the soft plush fabric.
A soft laugh. “Me neither. Do you want to come in?”
He stepped through the entryway, quickly glancing around her room. It was identical to his — a very empty looking room, with just a few basic necessities to fill the space. A bed, a cabinet, a chair. Similar enough to the ones on the lower floor, except with the obvious air that this would only be a temporary place to stay.
Of course, the third Main Game loomed over them. If everything went to the rules, this could be the final night alive for the remaining participants. All but the winner.
The door had already clicked closed behind, and Sara shuffled through the low light to turn on the lamp beside her bed as she took a seat. He thought of his mum again, and his stomach twisted.
”Do you need anything?”
”A hug, meow.”
He didn’t wait much for a response. Her face had already fallen in sympathy, eyes softening as she held out her arms for him, and he had stepped forward into them without hesitation.
Sara was warm, her arms firmly wrapped around him with just enough pressure to wrangle a quiet sob from him. She’d been quick to become a beacon of comfort since they’d met — he knew that, everyone knew that — and yet she so rarely seeked any affection for herself. The closest that he was aware of was when he’d found her, crouched on the floor and muttering something about Joe to herself.
Admittedly, he’d been scared at first. Watched silently as she spoke from a distance. He’d worried something was wrong, that he’d get over to her and she’d lash out at him. People could be unpredictable, when they weren’t themselves.
But once the shock had lifted, and he saw that she herself was more terrified of what was happening around her, he’d overwritten any of his own fear and hugged her until she came back to herself again. Back to reality, however cruel.
They stayed like that for a while, until his head started to hurt and his legs felt weak from standing. He wanted a drink of water, or a snack to settle his stomach, but he didn’t even know where to begin to ask for them.
“Big Sis Sara?” He spoke against her shoulder, becoming more aware of the fact that he’d gotten her shirt sleeve wet from tears. “Could you read me a story, woof?”
She didn’t say a word, but her head nodded as she let go, shuffling to sit cross-legged with her back against her pillows. Gin shuffled around the bed, jumping up onto the other side to curl against her arm, Mew-chan nestled between them.
”I don’t… I don’t know many stories. Do you have any in mind?”
He couldn’t bring himself to speak. The words felt too heavy in his mouth, and they fought back when he tried to change them, make them lighter. He shook his head and burrowed in further.
”Well…” she trailed off, finger tapping on her leg gently as she thought. He could feel the moment an idea hit, her muscles lighting up beside him as she gathered the words. “Once upon a time, there were two cats alone in a city. A ginger girl — the oldest of the two — took care of her brother, a little brown kitten, who was the softest and fluffiest of all. They didn’t know where they came from, just that they had each other. The two cats had been together for a short amount of time, but they were family all the same. But the brown cat had nightmares, would hide when he went to bed hungry. And ginger cat wanted a nicer life, more secure for the both of them. A life with warm fires and bowls of milk every night, where they didn’t have to worry about where their next meal came from.
“So one night, while the city around them slept, the cats left their little spot in the quiet alleyway and embarked on their own adventure. They wandered through streets, scrounging food from restaurants when the servers’ backs were turned, or from some kind people who dropped treats for them. They took shelter where they could — porches and patios, abandoned buildings with cracked roofs and splintering walls. Every day, getting closer to something better.”
Gin watched her hand movements, growing more and more fluid as she engrossed herself in the story. Gentle enough to not throw him around as he used her arm as a pillow, but the rhythmic motions helped calm him, lull him into a peaceful feeling.
“But one night, as they prepared to jump over a large fence, they heard speaking, and peered through a crack in the fence panels. A man’s voice, as crazed as his eyes, spoke to an unseen visitor. ‘I’ve seen the cats you spoke of,’ he said. ‘I’ll catch them and bring them here.’ And, in that moment, they locked gazes.
“The cats both bolted away, and the man followed in pursuit. They hopped walls, darted down alleys, ducked under bridges, and yet behind them, they could always hear footsteps. Hurried, trailing behind them as if connected by a string. Always saw the flash of green from his hair. They spent a long time running, even felt that there was no way they could escape. But you know what happened?”
Gin’s eyes were already closed, but he cracked them open to look up at her expectantly.
”They found a small hole, burrowed deep into the ground. The ginger cat helped the brown cat down, down, into the gap, and they ran. They ran through tunnels and trenches, growing darker each step until, eventually, light peaked around one of the corners. And they came out the other side to freedom. And freedom came in the form of a quiet countryside, with no cars or bustling streets. No noise to keep them awake at night. It was peaceful, where they could gaze up at the stars or hunt down birds to their heart's content. Endless stretches of greenery, with plenty of places to hide and play. And, from that moment, they knew they could truly be a safe and happy family,, wherever they ended up.”
There was the feeling of shuffling, of soft eyes watching over him, but he didn’t stir. His limbs felt like lead. All he did was nestle further into the cape that had found itself draped over him. ”Do you think we’d be siblings in every universe, meow? Like the two cats, woof?”
“Mhm, of course we would. And the two cats found their home. Outside of the city, they found a whole family of cats. Another brown one, flecked with lighter tufts, who sang into the night and stole paints from the art store on the cusp of town, for the pink one who loved to draw. The grey cat, who chastised her for stealing but would never turn down the chance to paint. A blond cat and a red cat, who kept the group safe from harm by intimidating anyone who would hurt them, along with the blue cat who relied more on seeming scary than being strong enough to fight intruders off. The darkest of the brown cats, almost black, who secured their next meals with ease every time he hunted. Two green cats, both from the same litter, who played and worked to keep their little shed full of fun things. And a brown and gold cat, who made all the other cats happy, full of laughter and light. One big family.”
He wanted life to be like this. For Sara and him to leave this place, and go back home. Maybe she could read him more stories, too. Along with his mother. They would surely be the best storytellers together, and he’d never have to worry about not sleeping well ever again.
“I’m not used to being a big sister,” Sara spoke quietly, her voice no more than a soft whisper.
Humming in thought, Gin felt his eyelids growing heavier with each second. He felt the words leave his throat without effort. “You do it well, though, meow.”
Gin had promised himself he’d be strong. That he’d stop relying on the others as much, and be someone they could rely on in return for everything they’d done for him. He’d been starting to wonder if he’d ever manage that, but as he nestled closer to Sara’s arm and drifted off into sleep — his first sleep that showed him warmth since he was kidnapped — he truly believed that anything could be possible.
He slept long after that moment. Long after Sara had begun to cry her own tears., watching him as his breathing levelled out and he became a dead weight beside her.
It turns out, she’d made a promise to herself, too, to be strong enough for the others. Strong enough to stop the self-sacrificial attitude she’d clung to so desperately in order to find a way out together. And to leave behind the creeping ideas of sacrificing the others for her own freedom.
Because here, curled up next to her, was a child that deserved so much more. More than being left behind to die. And, as she was starting to believe, more than losing his big sister in this place.
They would win this, she told herself. And they would all win together, or take down the whole world trying.