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He’d been doing well.
And then he’d seen the writing on the ceiling of the chapel, and all the brittle scar tissue he’d been using to fix up his heart had sloughed right off, leaving it as raw and bleeding as the morning he realized he couldn’t hear Tweek breathe.
Like a shark smelling blood, he’d waited almost manically for another sign, nearly leaping out of his skin when he heard the chime of an achingly familiar voice ask about Stripe, the ongoing confession reduced to rabble in his ears.
“I want to see you too, Tiger… and there’s a way. You’re gonna need the book…”
(An entry for @la_norue's #dtiysrituel contest on Instagram!)