Chapter Text
They had been in the practice room all day, running through the setlist for their upcoming tour. The air is buzzing with excitement, chattering in between songs. A peal of melodic laughter cut through the haze settled in Dewdrops mind. He wishes he could join them, crack jokes with his packmates, and pretend like nothing is wrong, complain about his sore fingers or talk about what's for dinner. But he can't help but feel unwelcome. He's been so distant since the new ghouls arrived, since the transition. He wouldn't be surprised if they wanted nothing to do with him.
So instead of wallowing he let's is mind wander, tracing his fingers over the fretboard of Ifrits guitar. It reflects the light, twinkling like it's winking at him. He smiles as he remembers his first practice.
He had been topside for only a couple weeks but Ifrit made him feel like he'd been here a lifetime, picking on him, making fun of the other ghouls with him, mocking their papa when only Dew could see. Now everytime he picks the guitar up, he's reminded of his fallen mate.
"Fritter move. I can't see!"
The fire ghoul had been standing in front of him, blocking his view of Terzo showing them the newest album art.
He had tossed his head back, grinning at the little ghoul.
"Maybe if you weren't so short you wouldn't have that problem."
As true as that statement was, Dewdrop couldn't help but feel offended, shoving Ifrit out of his way and sticking his tongue out at him.
"If you two don't stop, I'll hang you by your toes and beat you with Mountain's drumsticks."
He would never admit it, but Terzo loved Dewdrop’s childish antics. He always had a soft spot for the little ghoul.
Dewdrop is pulled back to reality as a dead note fills the air. His fingers slipping over the strings as he closes his eyes, frustration rolls through him as he misses yet another chord. He feels so stupid, it's an easy chord that he's watched Ifrit play a million times so why can't he just get it right? He can smell the frustration rolling off of his packmates as their stand in papa tells them to stop. He hears the Cardinals footsteps as he comes to stand in front of him.
"Dewdrop, maybe you should take a break, sì? Rest your fingers for a moment?"
His voice is laced with concern, and Dewdrop knows he means well but it sends a wave of resentment crashing through his stomach.
"I don't need a fucking break. "
He growls more than he says the words, rolling his eye's as the rest of the ghouls stare at him in shock. What he needs is to get this right. He needs to prove that everything that's happened, everything that was done to him, wasn't a waste.
The room fills with a heavy silence. When Dewdrop looks up to meet Copia's gaze, he feels his eyes burn, his vision clouding over with unscheduled tears. Copia's eyes are wide, trying to figure out how he insulted his ghoul.
He knows he should apologize, that he shouldn't have said what he did. But he can't find it in himself to care. He doesn't want to be calm and docile anymore.
"Dewdrop…."
Normally Aethers voice called him, made him take a step back and breathe. Not now. Now it just fuels his anger, stoking it into a white hot rage as his carefully crafted walls start to crumble. Time seems to stop as he turns to face the quintessence ghoul. Aether doesn't deserve his kindness, not after everything he's done. More so everything he didn't do.
"No. No you don't get to fucking do that you don't get to tell me to calm down fuck you."
He drags the strap of Ifrits guitar off of his shoulders, his skin burning as he just gets angrier and angrier. His anger rising to mask the pain as he feels his face flush, no doubt turning a violent shade of crimson. He probably looks like a madman, his hair falling out of his normally neat ponytail, tears falling down his face in earnest.
"Its this fucking guitar why didn't you just get rid of it like you did him? Here I'll fucking help."
His whole body vibrates, his hands shaking as he brings the guitar over his head. Every breath he takes is too fast, too shallow, never filling his lungs enough. He knows he'll be angry at himself later, for letting himself lose control, for destroying the only thing he has left of Ifrit. But that's a problem for future Dewdrop.
He brings the instrument down, cracking it against the stone floor, the glossy wood shattering upon contact. He let's out a guttural sob. It's not enough it didn't quench the burning in his chest, it only made it worse. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Copia jump back, the sudden outburst startling him. Before he could repeat the action, Mountain is launching himself over his drum kit, shouting at him to stop.
The larger ghoul plucks the mangled instrument out of his hands, dropping it to the floor with a clatter. He wraps his fingers around Dewdrop’s biceps, giving him a small shake.
"What the hell is your problem?"
Dewdrop meets Mountain's gaze, he watches as the anger melts into a look of pity and confusion. He studies the little ghoul, trying to figure out what the problem is, why he's freaking out over something so small. Dewdrop feels like he's under a microscope, flayed open with his most private parts on display. Mountain’s gaze softens as he seems to realize that the little ghoul isn't just acting out, that something is wrong. He sees the pain written all over Dews face and Dewdrop realizes he can't hide. Not from Mountain.
His legs give way under him, falling into the bigger ghoul as he sobs. He feels weak like this, everyone watching him with pity laced concern. He can't hear what's being said to him over his sobs, doesn't feel Aethers hands on his back, doesn't feel Mountain's fingers on his face. He doesn't realize the room is empty, safe for the three ghouls and Copia lingering at the door. The only thing he can focus on is the lump in his throat and the panic settling in his chest. He looks over to the now unrecognizable guitar, reaching out to run his fingers over the splintered wood.
"I'm sorry im sorry im sorry. "
His words are barely a whisper, repeating himself like a broken record. It's broken. No. He's broken. Everything he's been bottling up rushes to the surface, all the pain and anger he's been locking away becoming too much as he sobs into Mountain's chest. He hates what he's become, what they've turned him into. He feels so ugly, unwanted and alone.
"What are you sorry for? Hey, look at me. Dew…"
His name sounds foreign, wrong to his ears. He isn't Dewdrop anymore. He's not the pretty water ghoul everyone worshiped anymore. He's angry,now, hot tempered and ugly. Scars of blackened charcoal where his fins used to be, deep open wounds where his gills used to flutter. But what hurts most is that it was all his fault.
"I-i got them killed and I can't even….I'm not I can't fuck. I can't do this."
Mountain hooks his fingers under Dewdrop’s chin, forcing him to meet his gaze.
"Listen to me. It is not your fault, okay? It's not your fault and you know that."
Mountain couldn't keep the shake out his voice, his lower lip trembling as he fought back his own tears. He knows exactly how Dewdrop feels, he knows because he's been telling himself the same thing. That he should have stopped it, he should have done something. Why didn't he do something?
"I know it feels like you should have done something, but you know just as well as I do that nothing you could've done would have changed their minds. It. Isn't. Your. Fault. Okay?"
As much as he's trying to calm Dewdrop down, he's also trying to convince himself, trying to believe his own words.
"I just-fuck. I'm not him Mount everyone expects me to just pick up his guitar and fill his shoes like it's nothing but I can't it's too much and I just can't. I'm not good enough. "
He looks up to the earth ghoul, his eyes red and puffy as he begs his mind to just stop.
"I'm just want it to stop. I want it to be quiet."
Mountain pulls the little ghoul into a tight hug, at a loss for words. Dewdrop let's himself relax for the first time in months, resting his head on his shoulder, sinking into the bigger ghouls embrace as the exhaustion finally sets in.
"I just want to sleep."