Work Text:
Devoid of sunlight, the Underground is a place where the cold never lets go. It bites hard, it bites deep. The abandoned warehouse the Black Stars are hiding in is even worse — it’s dark, damp, reeking of rust and mold. Water drips from cracked pipes, pooling on the concrete floor.
Yet, somehow, the Black Stars find sparks of life here — a shared cigarette, a cracked joke, a warm embrace. Cristal sees it, feels it, and wonders how they cling to joy in this hell.
She jerks awake one night. Or day? No telling down here; time’s a blur. The cold is clawing at her bones, and no tattered blanket can fight it. Cristal looks around and finds herself alone — the warehouse is empty. No Johnny clinging to her warmth in his sleep. No other Black Stars muttering in the shadows. Just her, alone, with the faint crackle of a dying fire.
She’s used to their supply runs, but someone usually stays to watch her.
“All hands on deck, huh?” she mumbles.
Cristal slides off her “bed” — a mattress laid across battered wooden boards. It’s not the best bed Cristal’s ever slept in, but it’s best they’ve got. She knows it and doesn’t complain. She’s learned that down here, it’s a gift. Clutching the blanket around her shoulders, she shuffles to a rusted barrel where scraps of crates smolder. It’s been too long since anyone fed the fire. She wonders how long she was out for.
When the sleep wears off, Cristal realizes that she’s not just cold — she’s also hungry. She immediately thinks of the surface, of her previous life, where she had so much, yet never appreciated any of it. Warm bread, sweet apples, meat. Up there, she didn’t care. Now, those memories are cruel, obsessive even. Sometimes all she can think of is food, and that makes her feel so pathetic, so ashamed of herself.
A metallic groan pulls her out of these thoughts. The warehouse’s massive door creaks open, and a figure appears in the dim, flickering light beyond.
Cristal can’t see his face, but she knows it’s Johnny. She smiles.
“Hey,” she sighs.
He steps inside, one hand in his pocket. The door clangs shut.
“Hey. Look what I snagged just outside,” Johnny says in a whimsied tone.
He barrels across the warehouse and nearly crashes into Cristal. The dim glow from the smoldering barrel catches his silhouette. There’s a glint of mischief in his eyes. Johnny yanks his hand from his pocket, cupping it with the other. Then he thrusts it toward Cristal, fingers curled tight, like he’s guarding a secret.
“Wanna take a guess?” he whispers.
Cristal squints at his hands as the faint firelight flickers across his knuckles. She thinks what kind of thing, small enough to fit in his palm, could get Johnny this excited.
“Something shiny?” she ventures.
“Nope,” Johnny laughs, seeming content with himself.
“Something sweet?” she tries again.
Memories of cake taunt her empty stomach.
“Nah-ah,” Johnny’s grin widens.
Cristal huffs, her lips twisting into a childish pout.
“Fine, I’m done guessing. I give up.”
Johnny uncurls his fingers, as if he’s revealing some buried treasure. Nestled in his calloused palm is an ordinary earthworm. Except, it’s not quite that ordinary. Imagine the biggest, fattest earthworm you’ve ever seen — and then double that. Cristal blinks.
“Oh. Alright.”
“Wild, right?” Johnny exclaims.
“Well…” Cristal tilts her head, looking at the squirming critter. “It’s… A worm.”
“Yeah, a monster worm,” Johnny’s eyes spark. “Never seen anything like it.”
Cristal lets out a laugh. Sharp and sudden, it echoes off the rusted pipes overhead. The laugh feels good, like a small rebellion against the Underground’s weight.
“Okay,” she hesitates. “Do you think worms are cool, or something like that?”
Johnny shrugs.
“I mean, not really. This one’s just… Weird. Freaky, y’know?”
Cristal tilts her head and sniffles. Suddenly, a thought sparks in her mind. She smirks and looks up at Johnny.
“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”
Johnny, caught off guard, opens his mouth and shakes his head a bit.
“What? If you were a worm?”
“You heard me.” Cristal dares him. “If I was a worm, would you still love me?”
“Uh…” Johnny scratches the back of his neck, glancing at the oversized worm still squirming in his palm. “Well…”
“Come on, spit it out!” Cristal presses, leaning closer.
“Okay, okay,” he chuckles nervously. “If you were a worm, I’d keep you in a nice little jar, all cozy and warm. Feed you… Whatever the hell worms eat. And — oh! Wait, wait!” his eyes light up. “You know if you cut a worm in half, you get two live ones? I’d slice you in two, let those worms grow, then cut ‘em again, and keep going. Till every worm on this planet’s just… You, but worm. Then every time I see one, I’d be like, ‘Hey, Cristal, what’s up?’”
Silence drops. Cristal stares at Johnny. Johnny stares back. The worm wriggles, oblivious.
“You’re such a weirdo,” Cristal finally says in a flat voice.
“What?” Johnny looks at the worm for confirmation of his genius.
“Nothing,” Cristal shakes her head. “It’s a cute answer, although it sounds kinda creepy.”
Johnny’s face twists into a mock frown. He holds the worm up like it’s his confidant.
“You hear that?” he addresses the critter in his palm. “She’s got no respect for my master plan to conquer the Earth. How ungrateful!”
Cristal snorts, bursting out in laughter. She smacks Johnny shoulder hard — a bit too hard. Johnny stumbles, boots scuffing against the concrete. The worm slips from his hand and tumbles into the smoldering barrel. The flames hiss, consuming the little thing.
Cristal gasps, her eyes widen.
“Oh no… I’m sorry!”
Johnny’s gaze shifts downward, the fire casting harsh shadows across his face as the worm twists in agony and eventually blackens.
“Eh, whatever… I don’t need any other worm when I’ve got you.”