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The rock in your shoe is rapidly becoming a smaller and smaller problem.
Earlier in the round, when you had been alone long enough to foolishly presume safety, your biggest goal had been finding somewhere you could sit and fish the fiercely sharp intrusion out. However, within the last ten seconds, you'd been forced to abandon that goal thanks to one crucial indicator.
You can hear him.
In your humble opinion, it's never a good sign when you can't see the killer. Sure, it might mean they can't see you either. And with some killers, you're willing to take that gamble; Jason, for example. Not this one, though. Never this one. The kid likes to throw bricks, and you are so incredibly attached to your skull and all the juicy little brain bits inside. That's why you're here, three steps up, doing your best imitation of an owl to try and locate the source of that discombobulated, computer-y voice. c00lkidd.
You feel a little bad for him, y'know? The kid should be in elementary school, not here. Not throwing grown adults across fairgrounds like frisbees because he thinks you're all just playing tag. And it doesn't help that you're close with 007n7, his dad. You've seen the guy shed more tears over his son than either of you are willing to admit for his dignity. Speaking of him... where even is 7n7? You haven't really seen him since the round started.
Huffing, you hop off the steps and start padding across the grass. You pull yourself closer and closer to one of the old brick walls as c00lkidd's voice grows louder and you can begin to make out the actual words. "Dad!" He whines, the inhuman sound pelting your stomach with dread. "Get up! Are you really done playing?"
Oh, no.
Feeling cold sweat coat the back of your neck, you slowly peer around the wall. There they are- both of them, shining in the golden light. 7n7 is slumped on the ground, blood oozing below him and staining his skin the same color as his son's. c00lkidd looms over him, bandanna looped around his neck, stamping his little foot. "Come on! None of us have won yet!"
Now sweat isn't the only liquid rolling down your skin.
Well, I mean... can you even classify tears as a different liquid? They're both salty water, right?
Your lips part in a silent sob as c00lkidd leans down, prodding his father with a softly affectionate hand. "...Dad?" He sounds worried now. "Dad? What's wrong?"
Oh, no, you cannot do this. Not now. Listening to this is going to shatter your heart, and you know damn well you'll just let it. Turning away as your shoulders begin to shake, you gulp air around the lump in your throat. Your gaze drops to your watch, and you release a strangled whimper at the number. A minute and a half. You can do this. Just... one more minute.
"Papa? Why aren't you moving?"
Your back meets cool brick as you slide down against the wall, your forehead dropping to your knees.
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007n7 corners you as soon as the round is over, gently nudging you into telling him why you're still limping. When you finally acknowledge the rock in your shoe with a voice made rough by tears, he frowns. "It hurts enough to make you cry?"
The concern is enough to bring a fresh wave to your eyes.
"No," you mumble, already raising a hand to shield yourself from view. "No, I'm okay..."
"Hey. Hey, doll, c'mere." 7n7's arm wraps around your shoulders as he leads you out of the main cabin and through the permanent dusk towards his own. Once the door shuts behind you, he guides you to his ever-familiar couch, wraps you in your favorite blanket, and wanders away to retrieve whatever bandages he's managed to scrounge up. By the time he comes back, your eyes are mostly dry and you feel like you can talk without swallowing the very stone that's bothering you. He kneels on the ground in front of you, carefully undoing your laces and pulling off the offending shoe. At the sight of your sock, punctured and stained with blood, he lets out a hiss and quickly gets to work. "So..."
"So?"
"You want to tell me why you were crying?"
He glances up at you, eyes kind behind his thick glasses. You're glad you couldn't see them earlier. You don't think you could handle to see that gaze go empty.
"It was, uh..." How do you even say this out loud? "...c00lkidd."
"c00lkidd?" He frowns, and you let out a shuddering sigh.
"He was... he was begging you to come back. After he... y'know."
7n7 goes silent at that, and you almost think telling him was a mistake. Maybe you should've just kept it to yourself. Made something up. Maybe-
Warm, careful arms wrap around you, and you find your tense muscles melting without a second of hesitation. It's good. Safe. Soft. He smells like laundry soap and that odd tinge you've come to associate with the spectre. "There we go," he whispers into your hair, feeling you finally take a deep breath. "That's it." His hand drifts up and down your back, smoothing down the rumples in your shirt.
Still, even as he comforts you, you can feel the way his own emotions are starting to prick at him. So, in hopes of preventing him tensing up so hard he strains his back, you begin to gently pull him up onto the couch with you. Awkwardly, he hauls himself up and over you. It's the kind of awkward that leaves you both chuckling quietly as you shift and lay under him, then sighing as he settles his weight on top of you and drops his face into the crook of your neck. The fog of his breath warms your skin as you begin to sort your fingers through his hair, his dark waves like silk under your touch.
Whatever it is, the melancholy of it all, it settles between you like something feeble you have to shelter. It's easier this way, though. The sensation sits everywhere you touch, and in that you find it begins to melt away. Reluctant as your mind is to let go of the satisfying pain of it all, this comfort is enough to balm over the oozing wounds for one more night.