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Rob was in the void.
It was over. He tried, and he failed, and now all of Elmore was gone. Dead. Destroyed and completely obliterated, and every other synonym for its fall into the void.
And there he was, sitting on a piece of land. God. He should’ve tried to change Gumball first, get him out of the way, and everyone’s always on the side of the main character, so the rest would’ve been easier. Or maybe he should’ve spit it out faster—his knowledge of what was going to happen, of what has now happened—but would they have even listened to him? Maybe he should’ve taken a more persuasion-based route, gotten people excited for the transformation, but that would’ve taken time and he didn’t have any. No one had any.
He wanted to kill himself. Death was better than the void—anything was better than the void. He’d do anything to not be where he was right now. He should kill himself; it would save him from this pain.
He couldn’t, though, so he just sort of curled up into a ball, or as close to one as his distorted, gangly, polygonal form could make. He started to cry.
The crying got too much for sitting up to be an appropriate position, so he fell over onto his side and cried harder. He was sad, tired, and cold. Everything fucking sucked, and in a surprise burst of anger, he screamed into the void. Well, any directed he screamed would’ve been into the void. He was in the void. He was in the void, and it was all over.
God. How would he even survive, if that’s what he chose to do? What about food? He hoped he’d starve. He remembered he wouldn’t. The void doesn’t do that to people—it keeps them alive. Forever. Rob didn’t want to be alive forever. He didn’t even want to be alive for a little bit.
He had all of eternity to him, and all he could do was lie there and cry and feel sorry for himself? Was that really the best course of action?
Yes. And he wasn’t going to stop. Fuck whoever thinks he should. Fuck himself. Fuck himself and his stupid fucking thoughts that won’t leave him the fuck alone—
He was alone, though.
Rob heaved in a deep breath and forced himself upwards. He didn’t even get that far—just to a sitting position. He thought himself pathetic. Stupid and pathetic and a fucking failure—and not to mention ugly, too. Deformed, disgusting, the sight of him comparable to the worst scene in the goriest movie in existence. He was covered in holes, in static—
He was really a part of the void, wasn’t he? He didn’t use to be, or maybe he did, and it just wasn’t visible. From the very beginning, he’d been boring. Useless. Destined for the void. He’d underwent a transformation, just like he’d given the citizens of Elmore. They didn’t complete theirs; he didn’t complete his.
He should complete his transformation, throw himself into the void, become what he was always truly meant to be: nothing. Just static on a TV screen, right before it’s turned off or the channel is changed.
He couldn’t. He didn’t have it in him. Why did he even sit up? What was there to do? He flopped over, glad to feel himself smack on the ground. It moved the pain in his head elsewhere, made it hurt less. He’d do it more if he weren’t so tired.
Sitting up took everything out of him, and now he felt like he couldn’t move, not even slightly. He was still crying, but not as violently as when he started. It was more peaceful, tears flowing from his eye—
He’d have two of them, if he wasn’t such a failure.
He closed it, and curled himself up as much as he could go, bringing his forearms protectively over his head.
He wanted to be gone.
—
Rob didn’t know how much time had passed when he heard this awful sound, like a rip or a tear or an inverse crunch, but in something that wasn’t supposed to be able to do any of that. It was behind him. It was loud.
He didn’t have the time to process what had happened, let alone react, before two skin-textured hands grabbed him in the general area of his shoulders and upper torso and he was hauled up and away.
Then, there was intense, blinding pain.
Rob couldn’t think—all he could do was make a soft, choked sound as it felt like his insides were being ripped apart, shredded, and smeared around into one big mush. He could feel his limbs expanding in diameter, his proportions being reshapen, and it hurt. It hurt badly. He couldn’t see, but he could feel his eye split into two. He felt like someone was treating him like a piece of clay, smushing and pulling at him wherever they pleased, except he wasn’t built to be able to do that. It hurt—he wished he was dead—he couldn’t see—he couldn’t think—
And then it was over. There was no more pain—at least, physically—and he was scrunched up on some very uncomfortable floor with his eyes—both of them—shut tight.
The floor was uncomfortable because it was covered in shards of glass, he realized.
Then he felt himself being pulled up off the floor. Opening his eyes was too much, but he could stand there.
“Hey, it’s okay, uh, deep breaths? In and out…”
Rob was hyperventilating. He hadn’t realized until Gumball pointed it out. And he did know it was Gumball—he knew his voice.
Rob couldn’t slow his breathing, so he stopped for a second. It was almost like rebooting his brain. He did not feel like he was in a cartoon anymore. There was something about the air, how his body felt—he didn’t know—that was different. It had more weight to it, he decided on. Both the air and himself, and just the world in general. Existence in general.
“You have… some glass, uh, on you? Here, lemme just—”
Rob felt himself being gently brushed off. He was more comfortable without little bits of glass sticking to his skin.
He opened his eyes.
He did not appreciate depth perception.
He saw that he was in a dirty, abandoned-looking house—the living room, more precisely—and that it was night. He also saw a short person—maybe just comparatively—standing in front of him, looking up at him with wide, uncertain eyes. The person was made of flesh and skin and hair, and Rob knew it to be Gumball.
Rob opened his mouth, but he couldn’t say anything, so he closed it and looked to the side, at a smashed TV that held static behind where its glass used to be.
Rob looked back at Gumball, who slowly lifted his hands to touch Rob’s elbows. Rob realized he’d had his fists clenched and held protectively in front of his chest, so he lowered and relaxed them.
Gumball picked up the remote from the coffee table next to them and turned the TV off. “You were the last person we hadn’t found,” he explained. “We fixed one of the machines and got everyone in Elmore out into the real world. Well, that or found their body. You were right all along and… I’m sorry.”
“…You went back for me?” Rob felt tears prick in his eyes.
Gumball nodded. “We should sleep,” he said, “it’s pretty late—I think two or three a.m.? There’s a couple of houses around here that look abandoned; we’re all sleeping in them for tonight. It’s a little cramped, but we’ll get something better as soon as we figure things out—Anais’s working on forging everyone birth certificates—” he paused, taking a deep breath. “Actually, we can talk about this in the morning. C’mon.”
Gumball grabbed Rob’s hand and led him through the dining room, where he saw several lumps made of sleeping people across the room. “The living room has broken windows,” Gumball whispered to him. They then walked into the kitchen, which was very small but had no one else in it. There was a pile of blankets in a corner, which Gumball led Rob to, and had him sit down in. Then, Gumball looked down at his face.
“Hey, uh, it’s alright…” Gumball had noticed Rob’s silent crying. He looked around, like he wasn’t sure what to do, and then kneeled next to Rob and pulled him to his chest. Still holding Rob, he reached down and pulled one of the blankets over Rob’s shoulders, and then wrapped his arms around Rob, tight. Then, he seemed to change his mind and move one of his hands to hold Rob’s head.
Rob shook with a violent sob—still completely silent—into Gumball’s chest. He didn’t know why he was crying. It didn’t make any sense—almost everything had worked out. He was in the real world, he was safe, and his machine had saved most of Elmore as well. Everything was supposed to be better.
Rob was angry. He was supposed to feel okay now. Why didn’t he feel okay? Why couldn’t he feel okay? What the fuck was wrong with him?
Gumball helped him into a laying position and wrapped him up tighter with the blanket. Rob was rendered immobile, his head resting in the crook of Gumball’s neck. Gumball stroked Rob’s hair and undid his ponytail.
Rob was very tired and very comfortable, all of a sudden. He felt safe. He felt like people wanted him around.
He felt like Gumball wanted him around.
He fell asleep.