Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Elliot lay in bed, tossing and turning. He tried to sleep, to savor one of the few breaks they get in this forsaken hell but… he can’t. However, it’s not like it’s entirely his own fault. The Spectre -the being that typically torments them- has taken a particular liking (or rather disliking) towards Elliot.

The Spectre wanted Elliot to suffer, wanted him to feel a pain like no other and yet… physically he was fine. He’d go through the rounds as everyone normally would, avoiding killers, helping out with his pizza, all that. The spectre didn’t want Elliot to suffer in that way, oh no, it wanted Elliot to suffer mentally. Of course, it had just the plan for that.

The voice in Elliot’s head started off small, telling him little things like ‘don’t heal him’ when his teammates were obviously low on health or making his own intrusive thoughts stronger. Thoughts that occurred whenever he’d pick up a knife, for the innocent purpose of cooking, and stare at a nearby survivor. The voice was like static in his head, an annoying noise and nothing more. Though, recently, it was getting harder to resist.

Something, or rather, someone who made it easier was Chance. Chance would often talk to Elliot when it got bad. Not like he knew exactly what was going on, but his voice was grounding for Elliot. It helped him if the voice ever got too bad, though said moments were rare.

Elliot was always a guy who prided himself on his self control and his professionalism. He was also rather selfless, and thus making him a lot harder to manipulate in terms of being just a voice in his head. Elliot lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling as the voice tried to speak to him once more. He was getting pretty damn tired of this.

‘You deserve more than this’ it said, its voice like a snake in Elliot’s mind, coiling itself around his thoughts.

Elliot simply groaned in response. “No shit, of course I do” he said aloud, though it was like talking to himself.

If the voice had eyes, it would’ve rolled them. Yet, it kept its composure, still sweet like a poisoned desert ‘you’re always so selfless, why not take some of their flesh for yourself?’

“I’m not eating my friends, you psycho” Elliot exclaimed, his voice unwavering.

Though, this time something was different. Elliot shared a cabin with chance, he was used to the feeling of having someone with him while the voice still talked. It was almost as though he could smell him. Him and that weird cologne he always wore whilst he was gambling… but that smell made him hungry. The wrong kind of hungry, the one that made his stomach growl. No.

“Shut up.” Elliot muttered to nobody in particular, gritting his teeth. The voice had gone again, like a whisper in the wind, leaving Elliot to his own thoughts once more.

Yet the silence that followed was almost more torture than the noise.

Elliot sat up on his bed, the fact that he’d even considered something like… that weighing heavy on his mind. Still, he forced himself up as he heard a knock on his door. Elliot was grateful for the distraction, even if it may warrant questions he would rather not answer. He opened the door, seeing none other than the gambler on the other side. As he expected, who else would come knocking at… what, 3am?

“Hey, so… I couldn't sleep, again” Chance muttered sheepishly, scratching the back of his head like he was nervous. Though, the gesture was quite cute in Elliot's opinion

“Don’t tell me your here to crawl into my bed… again” Elliot deadpanned

Chance blinked, caught off guard. A faint blush bloomed on his cheeks.

“...Maybe… It's cold, okay?”

Elliot sighed, yet didn't turn him down. He may have a small soft spot for him after all and honestly… he could use the company. He took Chance's wrist in his hand, causing his flush to deepen.

“Fine, fine. C’mere you lil’ baby” Elliot chuckled softly, taking exactly four steps (the cabins are small, okay) and pulling Chance onto his bed with him. The blonde wrapped his arms around the other’s waist, the other man melting into his touch instantly. Their legs tangled, the space suddenly feeling a hell of a lot more comfortable in the presence of each other.

The world seemed to lull into a quiet, comfortable silence. Elliot couldn’t help the feeling of contentment he was getting, being wrapped in his “friend” like this. It was honestly a wonder that they were literally cuddling in bed and yet still calling it a “friendship”. They were both cowards, Pinning like fools who were pretending they weren’t already in too deep.

Elliot didn't even have to ask if Chance was comfortable, the way he shamelessly buried his face in Elliot's chest and tried to tug Elliot closer at every chance (get it?) he would get said enough.

Eventually, chance spoke again. “Comfortable?” He asked, his voice was barely a whisper, as if he didn't want to ruin the moment. Elliot smiled softly into the others' hair.

“Obviously” he responded confidently, holding Chance almost impossibly closer now.

The grey haired gambler (yes chance has hair) pulled away from Elliot just enough to look him in the eyes. Elliot took a second to admire his features, the way his blue and amber (heterochromia) eyes glistened in the faint false moonlight and how cute his hair was when it was all tousled and fluffy.

It was a pity he hid his face behind sunglasses and a fedora during the day… but then again, it did give Elliot some sense of satisfaction knowing that he was one of the very few who got to see him like this.

God, he just wanted to devour them.

Chance seemed to have a slightly worried look on his face, though. It's a new look for them, the gambler typically prided themselves on their poker face. Elliot raised a brow at their look.
“Hm? What's the look for?”

Chance sighed, their hand absentmindedly fidgeting with the hair on the nape of Elliot's neck. “Nothin, just… you've started talking to yourself a lot, y’know, El?” they paused for a second “are you doing okay?”

Elliot paused, the hand that had been subconsciously tracing patterns on chances back stopping in its tracks. “Im fine, I just got into talking to myself more. I make good company”

Chance grumbled, his words almost unintelligible “I’m good company”

Elliot had to bite back a laugh, a strangled noise coming from his throat.
“You make great company, chance” Elliot chuckled, ruffling Chance's hair as though he was a toddler in need of soothing.

Chance huffed, feigning annoyance. “Hey!” he exclaimed, before adding in a softer tone “but… if you ever need someone to talk to, you know who to call”

Elliot’s breath hitched, but not out of pleasure or love. He ached to tell Chance the truth, to confide in him and tell him everything. Yet, he couldn’t. His hold on the other grew tighter, as though they’d fall through his fingers if he let go. He wondered if Chance had noticed this.

Then, Elliot felt it again.

That unbearable hunger that clawed in his gut like a caged beast. One of his hands moved down to clutch his stomach and he could've sworn he’d heard it growl. The voice wasn't there, yet a whisper in his head made him look down at the person who was half asleep, drifting away peacefully in his arms. His breathing grew slightly ragged as he tried to restrain himself from doing anything drastic.

Elliot felt the fluffy grey locks brush his lips, his entire being telling him that this was a bad idea and yet all Elliot could focus on was the sweet
promise of

Relief.

He needed relief.

It was as if he’d moved on his own accord. When his mouth gently took a tuft of Chance’s hair and started to chew. Up until he heard their voice again.

“Elliot!?” He exclaimed.

In all honesty, the scene was batshit crazy. Elliot stared down at chance with a mouthful of Chance's hair, Chance looked up at Elliot like he was both amused and alarmed.

Elliot froze like a deer in headlights, mouth still full of chances hair. He blinked. His brain? Absolutely fried.

“Elliot.” Chance repeated, his voice full of amusement and very badly repressed laughter “are you… trying to eat my hair?”

Elliot had to manually reboot before he finally understood the situation. He spat out Chance’s hair, sitting up suddenly like he’d been burned by the mattress “NO– like yes but– not like that!” he sputtered helplessly

No matter what he said, chance was already clutching his side laughing. “So you eat hair now!?” he said between choked laughs

“I was hungry!”

“FOR MY HAIR?”

“I was tired, okay?”

“Thats not what tired people do, buddy”

Elliot groaned, flopping back down into the pillows in shame “please, shut up before I implode”

Chance only laughed harder, not even trying to hide it now “hell no, this is going in my journal. I’ll draw the scene and frame it.”

Elliot only buried his head even more, muttering either death threats or prayers into his pillow. Probably both.

Yet, no matter how much Chance laughed or how he too grinned at the scene, he could never shake that weight in his chest. The ghost of that pang of hunger made his skin crawl. He hadn’t planned on doing it, he didn't even want to do it. His body has moved in its own accord, his brain hadn't even caught up with it.

It didn't even bring him any relief

It just made him feel sick.

A calm yet smug voice and a strong arm trying to pry him off the pillow interrupted his thoughts. “Ahem, weird hair chewer~”

“Shut up.”

“Seriously, though” Chance started, his grin softening “you okay?”

Elliot hesitated, then nodded. “Im just exhausted, y’know”

Chance hummed in response like that was it, even if they both knew it wasn't. He moved in closer to Elliot again, Elliot's arms wrapped around chance again, as though he was grounding himself.

That was exactly what he was doing

“This is… nice.” Chance said after a while, returning his face to Elliot's chest like it belonged there. They'd returned to their original position, like it was meant for them.

Elliot raised an eyebrow “what, me eating your hair?”

Chance huffed, pulling back slightly “no, dumbass. I mean this” He gestures at their position “Us. together. Warm. In bed. Leg entanglement instead of ‘feel my entanglement’” Chance put on a fake accent at the last part, mocking 1x1 and making Elliot chuckle.

Elliot smiled, a genuine one this time “yeah. It is.” he replied shortly, not trusting his voice to come out normally.

Chance yawned and buried himself deeper in Elliot's chest, if that was even possible. “And also, I kind of like my hair so maybe eat something filling for dinner next time, yeah?

Elliot groaned “you are insufferable”

“You love it”

“Unfortunately”

Chance didn't talk again after that. He just drifted away to sleep. Peaceful, happy, content. Like this was all he could ever want in life, though it definitely wasn't.

Elliot wasn't so happy, though he did appreciate the situation. He lay awake staring at the ceiling. One arm draped over chance like a shield, like a promise that he’d protect him. The other? Trying to gently claw his own face off because he didn't trust himself to hold that promise.

He didn't deserve any of this. The way chance clung to him like he meant it, the way he’d always been there for Elliot. He didn't deserve Chance.

Not when the back of his mind was screaming at him to take a bite.

Chapter Text

The next morning was quiet in that strange, unnatural way the cabins always were. The fake sunlight slanted through the blinds, golden but cold, painting Elliot’s room with the illusion of warmth. It was too still—no birdsong, no real dawn, just the Spectre’s imitation of morning. The air had that calm before the storm weight to it, like something waiting to break.

Elliot stirred first. He cracked one eye open and tried to stretch before realising a mysterious weight made that impossible. He was pinned down by something warm and alive. No—not something. Someone. An arm draped over his waist, warm breath fanning over the fabric of Elliot's shirt.

Oh, it was Chance. Who else?

The menace was curled around him like a damn child. He stirred slightly, yet made no effort to actually get up. Instead, Chance chose the better, no homo option of holding Elliot closer like his first thought of the day was ‘mine’

Elliot, despite his better judgement, smiled fondly. He lifted his hand instinctively to brush a tuft of hair out of Chance’s face. The gambler stirred again, this time with a low groan rumbling out from his chest. He slowly lifted his head up to meet Elliot's eyes, blinking blearily.

“Morning” Chance mumbled groggily, his eyes still heavy with the residue of sleep.

Elliot simply hummed in response.

Then, for a rare moment, the two simply enjoyed the calm of the morning. No feral jolly rancher child trying to ‘corrupt nature’ them or annoying ass teammates begging Elliot for a pizza and then getting mad cause he was on cooldown.

Then, because the universe (me) hates them, somebody knocks on the door.

Elliot groaned, gently nudging Chance off him “I’ll get it”

He could've sworn he heard Chance whine, but he ignored it for the sake of both or their reputations. Anyways, he walked exactly four steps to the door to answer it.

On the other side was Guest1337, with a slightly sheepish smile.
“Hey, You and Chance were late for breakfast, so I thought I’d help out. Is He with you?” He asked, and Elliot didn't even need to answer before Guest took a peek inside and saw the still half asleep chance lying on Elliot's bed. He suppressed a chuckle.

“Ah, I see…”

Chance shot up like a guy who’d been electrocuted “YOU DIDN'T SEE NOTHIN, SOLDIER!” He barked, pointing dramatically from the bed

Elliot just flushed faintly and scrambled to take the paper bags from Guest “Thanks, man! We -uh- we owe you”

Guest1337 smiled like a man who knew his son was a closeted gay and nodded, walking off to leave Chance and Elliot alone with the food.

(Neither of them were closeted. Just gay.)

Elliot was quick to close the door, his cheeks still a little pink. Chance sat up and ran a hand through his hair with faux nonchalance. He failed miserably bro is not nonchalant. “Welp” he muttered “looks like you finally have a real meal. One that's not made of my hair.”

Elliot groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “CAN WE LET THAT GO?”

“Never” Chance wheezed as he tore open his paper bag.

Elliot was about to make another retort, until he smelt it. The second Chance opened his bag, he smelt meat. Juicy, tender, delicious meat.

Elliot had never even been big on meat, like, ever. He wasn't a vegetarian by any means, but he didn't go out of his way to eat it. To savor it like he felt like doing right now. His own paper bag was forgotten as his body yet again made a decision for him.

No, not now.

Elliot’s pupils dilated like a cat’s. He clutched his own bag hard, like he was trying to hold himself back.

He failed

Before he knew what he was doing, he lunged. Snatching the paper bag from Chance, TEARING IT OPEN and taking a bite of the beef sandwich with the fervour of a starved animal.

Chance simply watched him, frozen with growing concern for his friend and his sandwich with one major question on his mind;

“WHAT THE FUCK?”

Elliot blinked, as if he was just coming to his senses. He chewed quicker, swallowing the sandwich and almost choking on it before talking to Chance because he has manners unlike some people “...AUGH- BLEH- I-I was hungry…”

“YEAH, I CAN SEE THAT!??” Chance gestured wildly with his hands “did my sandwich owe you MONEY?”

But Elliot wasn’t listening. Because now that the taste lingered on his tongue, something dark curled in his gut. Something that whispered again. That demanded more.

And would he even stop himself?

Before he could spiral, a voice cut through his thoughts.

“Hey, pal, you’ve been actin’ off lately” Chance muttered, unwrapping the other paper bag “Seriously, what's up?”

Elliot perked up. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to tell the gambler about everything that had been happening. The voices, the hunger, everything.

But then what would chance think of him?

Would chance even look at him the same?

So, after a momentary pause, Elliot replied “I'm fine! I just… need to go to the bathroom!”

And with that, Elliot stumbled to the bathroom. He locked the door, fumbling with the sink to get the water flowing. He needed noise, a distraction to calm the static in his head.

Yet the water didn’t do jackshit.

Elliot stared at himself in the mirror, an unfamiliar man stared back at him. A man who looked haunted, a man who looked more akin to a beast.

Could that really be considered a man?

Elliot's throat tightened.

Who even am I?

His chest ached

What's happening to me?

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement.

A mouse.

Mice weren't uncommon in the cabins. It definitely wasn't the first time Elliot’s seen one.

But this one was talking to him.

What was it saying?

Kill me. Eat my flesh. Relieve yourself of the confines of morality and chase me.

…that's not the mouse, is it?

But god, does that sound good.

Then, for the first time, Elliot acted out of his own will. It's just a mouse, right? What’s the harm in just snuffing out a small life, just for relief?

Elliot caught the mouse fast, like a predator going in for the kill.

The animal squirmed uselessly in his hands as he slowly squeezed its fragile body harder with his hands, it's squeaking growing louder and more desperate as Elliot's claws —Claws? When did he get that?— dug into its head. Slowly crushing it's skull in

…And damn that felt good.

Blood leaked from his hand.

It looked delicious

But then he heard a knock on the bathroom door.

“El? You doin’ alright in there?” Asked Chance’s voice, floating like it was a football field away.

When Elliot replied with “I’m fine! Bad stomach” the 'I'm fine’ part of that statement might not have been a lie. Or maybe it was a lie, to himself more than chance.

Elliot sunk his teeth into the mouse.

He ate. He let himself savor the taste of the meat, metallic and raw. He let the blood drip from his mouth and fall onto the bathroom floor. A stain he could never forget.

But it wasn’t enough

It wasn’t human.

When he was done, he threw what was left of the mouse into the trash and doubled over in the sink, coughing violently as he retched

Hard

Like his insides were physically refusing the meat.

Then he puked again.

And again.

And again.

Until he was nothing but a shaking mess on the floor.

Nothing but a beast.

—-

Outside the door, Chance waited, sandwich forgotten.

What the actual hell was going on with Elliot?

Like, the guy NOT acting like a human. The way he scarfed down food like he hadn't eaten in days, or how he wasn’t telling chance anything anymore.

Not like he used to.

…Maybe it was Chance’s own fault. The way he constantly made jokes, took risks and pushed boundaries. That's what he did best, after all. Maybe he’d cornered Elliot into a breakdown, it wouldn't have been the first time he’d gone and ruined everything by being annoying.

By believing he actually deserves anyone.

Chance felt his heart sink, the familiar sense of guilt, of hopelessness clawed at him.

Damn it, Chance always fucked it up, didnt he?

Just like he did with him

Itrapped, that son of a bitch still haunted Chance even when he was supposed to be dead.

Chance sighed, leaning his back on the bathroom door…

…Before almost falling in his ass cause Elliot just opened the door

“OH SHIT-” he yelled out before Elliot caught him with a muffled yelp.

Elliot sputtered “OH- CHANCE… why were you outside-”

“I- I WAS JUST CHECKING ON YOU, OKAY?”

Before Elliot replied, Chance looked up and saw him. Elliot looked pale, sweaty. His lips were a little redder than usual (not that chance was staring) and… what was that weird, metallic scent?

“Jesus, kid” Chance started, his tone far more concerned as he balances himself “you look like you’ve seen a ghost”

Elliot seemed to freeze at that, his breath hitching. Chance took note of the fact that Elliot was yet to let go of him.

After a moment, Elliot gave Chance another tight smile “oh- well… y’know. Bad stomach”

“Right”

That's complete bullshit and they both know it.

Then, out of the corner of chance’s eye, he sees red. Like, literally there’s a red stain on the carpet.

“Shit, El, is that blood?” Chance asks, his tone immediately flipping to concern.

Elliot tensed, following Chance’s gaze to a smear of blood on the bathroom carpet. He felt his stomach drop in real time.

“It’s just– uhm, ketchup”

“...It don’t smell like ketchup”

“Radioactive ketchup”

That earned a snort from Chance, despite himself. He turned to face Elliot fully, that rare soft expression adorned in his face.

“Elliot” He said, cupping the blonde's jaw with his hand “ya know you can tell me anything, right?”

One could see the faint tint of pink on Elliot's face as he leaned into the hand despite everything “...Wow, how platonic.”

Chance chuckled “oh, was it supposed to be?”

That made Elliot’s breath catch in his chest.

Until, of course, Builderman screamed from like 56 lightyears away “SHEDLETSKY, WHAT'S THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN TOILET PAPER AND A FRIGGIN CURTAIN???”

Thus, Chance and Elliot were pulled away by the plot.

Though, in that moment, Chance had one thought on his mind

I can fix him

…I can definitely fix him

Yeah, no. Because beyond the hoax of a sky was the spectre.

Laughing its ass off.

Chapter Text

It was simply not possible to describe the realm as anything remotely normal, and yet, for once Elliot was trying to be. He was cooking, something he did often given the fact that he was the best cook out of all the survivors. Years of experience in pizza making pays off. 

Elliot got to work gracefully, a simple pizza or two should be enough to feed the others, especially after the last round. It was a disaster, Chance’s gun had literally blown up in his face and he died first. Elliot didn’t even get to heal him! (or just stuff a pizza in his face to get a charge for his rush hour). 

Nevertheless, he lived, and thus had the energy to even make this pizza in the first place.

Flour, water, olive oil and salt were the ingredients he mixed to form a dough. Now it's time to knead.

Elliot had no problems with kneading, unlike some other people —Cough, Chance and Shedletsky, cough— since he knew when exactly was enough and to not complain.

…Though it's not like his hands didn't hurt.

It's not like he didn't want to complain. He just didn't get to.

…

Why didn't he get to complain?

Damnit! The dough! Elliot took a deep breath, steadied himself, and got to work again.

He oiled up a bowl, placing the dough inside carefully and covering it up with clingwrap. Step one, done! Now, he had one hour all to himself. Or 45 minutes, depending on how patient everyone was.

And that's when it spoke 

‘Doesn't this tire you?’

It whispered in his ear. And despite the fact he knew it wasn't real, he felt the shadow of a breath run down the back of his neck. 

‘Don't you ever wish for more?’

Elliot took a shaky breath.

‘Just allow yourself to indulge’

‘Aren't you tired of resisting.. Repressing. All your needs, wants, desires?

Elliot grit his teeth, pressing his hands to his ears in a feeble attempt to block out the voice, which was starting to feel all too real. He moved his hands to grip the edge of the counter with white knuckles. He looked outside, watching the fake NPC birds tweet and sing. The bunnies playing in the woods that were nothing more than code and ambiance.

The meat.

That's what Elliot needed. 

Then, his head snapped up. He shook it violently. Trying desperately to regain his composure, to be normal. 

He huffed, pushing himself off the counter to go do… something else. Anything else. Anything but sit with the shit in his head. 

He opened the fridge door, only to find the worst horror of all.

It was empty.

Well, shit, how was he supposed to make a pizza with no toppings? Ain't nobody wanted that.

The crust could easily be made into a flatbread.

But nobody likes plain flatbread! You need toppings, like meat. 

Many people like vegetarian pizza-

WELL FUCK YOU. WE ARE GETTING MEAT.

Elliot stormed out the door, not even bothering to close it and stalked off into the vast, creepy, plot-convenient woods. 

Once he was out in said woods, he had no idea of what to do or why he even came there in the first place. Like he had walked into a new room and forgot the purpose of why he’d come.

Anyways, he might as well do something. So, he walked along the ‘path’ (more accurately, weird clearing where no grass grows) trying to clear his mind if nothing else. 

As he walked, he watched the wildlife frolic around him. He almost felt like a princess, walking in the woods with her animal sidekicks. He giggled at the thought.

Some brown birds flew overhead, landing on the branches of a tree next to him and singing. He watched them, walking closer as if he was in a trance.

The biggest one, and clearly the most prideful, flew down towards him. He held out his hand almost instinctively, letting the bird perch on his finger. He tilted his head and smiled, bringing the bird closer to him and running a few fingers down its feathers. The bird tweeted happily.

All was well.

Until he squashed the bird dead in his palm.

He watched it give its last panicked tweet before dropping dead in his palm, leaking a mess of blood and brain and organs. Its wings twitched uselessly, as if it were trying to fly away from him even in death.

Elliot didn't flinch, he just tilted his head like a curious cat. As if this whole thing intrigued him.

It did.

He stared down at the corpse for a few more moments before stuffing it in his pocket. He strode off, humming casually to himself as he continued down the path.

The birds, once comfortable in his presence, now reeled back in disgust and fled from him.

 He wondered why.

—

Back at the cabin kitchen, Elliot moved faster than before. More efficient. More motivated. 

He kneaded the dough, warmed the oven, spread on the sauce and the cheese.

Then he sprinkled on the bird.

Cut up nicely into tender perfection. You probably couldn’t tell the difference between that meat and normal chicken.

Perfect

He put the pizza into the oven and sighed, content. Finally, normalcy in a realm where ‘normal’ was a myth. 

An hour or so later and ding! The pizza was done. It looked good, all its imperfections coming together to make it appetising. Not like the fast food ones you get at Builder brothers. This was real, authentic, human.

Perfect for his favourite human!

Elliot dressed the pizza up nicely, garnishing it with a few basil leaves and serving it on the best plate the cabins had. It really looked like luxury in hell.

With hand-caught toppings, too!

—

Chance sat at the farthest table from the stage, the one at the very corner. He had his hands in his hair, mainly because the ONE time his gun didn’t blow up on him, he realized the spectre had fixed that bug where he could shoot his gun through walls the hard way and thus succumbed to a cruel death via MASS INFECTION. Great. Just his luck.

He huffed, resting his head flat on the table like a dramatic child. Goddamnit! He was hungry and tired and oh, so cold.

Cold, a familiar feeling. The temperature Chance would typically be at. Unless, of course, he was with Elliot. That was the pizza guy’s whole shtick, after all. Warmth.

…Speaking of Elliot, Chance could really use one of his pizzas right now. Or his hugs. Or just… him.

Damnit, Chance really wanted him right now.

Unfortunately, Elliot wasn't here and it wasn’t like he was gonna magically appear behind Chance with a mystery meat pizza-

“Uh- hey, Chance! I got you somethin” Elliot said sheepishly, magically appearing behind Chance with a mystery meat pizza.

Chance almost jumped onto the table with a startled yelp “AUAHS- Oh, hey pal. You uh– you scared me”

Elliot rubbed the back of his head “...Sorry. I just– I really wanted you to try this” He said as he placed the plate in front of Chance.

Chance glanced at the pizza and damn, it was a beauty. It looked like something those fancy, overpriced gourmet Italian restaurants he used to go to would make. 

He whistled “Damn, you made this?”

“I mean, who else?” Elliot grinned, more confident now.

Chance paused for a second, before glancing at Elliot who nodded in return. He then took a slice and with all the grace of a wolf attacking its next meal, he dug in.

It was delicious.

The meat –whatever it was, chicken probably– was tender and seasoned to perfection. The cheese stretched impressively in golden little rays of greasy delight and the crust was just the right mix of crispy and not overpowering. 

Holy, Chance would pay a fortune just to eat this again. Maybe throw in some extra grand to make sure Elliot is the one who makes it.

“MMGHHH- ohmygah- this ish SHO GHOWD” Chance said, his mouth still stuffed with pizza.

Elliot brightened up immensely at that. “You really think so!?” 

Chance smiled, seeing how happy Elliot was right now. He swallowed the pizza before saying “Kid, I know so.”

“God, you're so corny” Elliot muttered, though he couldn't help but smile harder.

Chance smirked, leaning in a little closer to Elliot “Only for you”

“Ew. Gay”

“You don't hate it.”

Elliot rolled his eyes, a slight flush evident on his face because yeah. He didn't.

“Anyways, I’m gonna make some more pizza for the others” Elliot said as he began to scoot away.

“HOLD UP- Is the whole pizza for me!?” Chance exclaimed, eyes wide and darting from Elliot to the pizza. 

“Yeah…” Elliot replied, a little sheepish again “Anyways… see ya!”

With that, he scrambled off, leaving Chance with the pizza. Alone. Cold. Depressed. How dare he.

—

Once again, Elliot lay in his bed awake at the asscrack of midnight. Fake moonlight poured in through the windows, and atmospheric code particles danced around his room like they were mocking him.

He sat up without any warning, just a jerky motion. Like his life right now. God, was he so pathetic that his life is comparable to sitting up? Damn. 

He felt soil under his boots before he even registered getting dressed.

Holy shit, when did that happen? Elliot stared at the dirt, then at his hands. He clutched his shoulders to find a jacket perched on them, one he couldn't for the life of him remember putting on.

The forest stood before him, like it was mocking him and inviting him at the same time. Well, who was he to decline? He stepped closer, into it.

That's when he heard it, a howl. 

He whipped his head around, yet all he could see were trees. He was going to brush it off, he should have brushed it off and yet…

Yet, he followed it. 

Probably the worst choice of his life, for now there were moving shadows all around his peripheral vision. 

The world really had it out to mock him, huh?

Just as Elliot considered turning back, he finally saw a coherent shadow. Mismatched, animalistic eyes stared back at him. Not mocking, just calm. Then, they turned away and scampered off deeper into the woods.

Elliot followed, as he always does.

He walked forward, dry leaves crunching under his steps. The warm glow of the survivor cabins had faded along with any regret he’d had, leaving only curiosity in its wake.

—

Elliot had noticed the familiar rustling of bushes far too soon for it to be considered normal. Like his senses had been heightened. However, there was no time to ponder that.

He was being followed.

Yet, he was nowhere near as alarmed as he should be. He simply walked on, taking note of the way his stalkers moves were getting bolder, the hiding spots getting more obvious. Clearly, he was intriguing them more and more by the second.

To be honest, Elliot couldn’t give less of a shit. He had meat to catch, pizza to bake and survivors to feed. 

So, he tuned it all out and continued forth.

The shadow led him in what felt like a circle, because that's what it was. Soon, he found himself back at the survivor cabins. Though, now they were different. They were colder.

Waiting.

The shadow took him into the smallest cabin, barren of everything but one picture frame, hung up on the wall without a picture. 

That’s when he saw the shadow clearly.

It was a wolf.

It waited for him in front of the frame, hazel and blue eyes blinking up at him.

A muffled voice spoke in the background, sounding like it was coming from underwater. Or maybe he was the one underwater, it was hard to tell at this point.

“E-Elliot? What are you…”

The scream that erupted from the wolf was too human.

Blood was everywhere now. Under his nails. Splattered on the walls. Stained the empty frame.

Elliot smiled.

Finally, human.

He held the wolf in his hands. Watched as it used its last, dying breath to look up at him devotedly.

That's when fur morphed into bloodstained blue fabric and everything faded away. 

Then, there they were.

Noob.

Scared, Innocent, Noob.

Their eyes stared up at nothing, not a thought behind them. How could there be?

Elliot’s claws traced along their body, reverently, like he was worshipping them.

Or more accurately, finding the best way to serve them nice and hot on a pizza for the others. He had the other survivors to feed, after all.

He tore apart Noob’s hoodie and dug his claws into their back. He took out a small cluttered chunk of sinew and muscle and most importantly, meat.

He stuffed it in his mouth. Let the raw, metallic taste fill his senses, let their intestines, blood and other parts pool in a sad, red puddle below them. 

It was relieving.

It wasn’t until he swallowed that everything finally registered.

Until he noticed the tangled, yellow hair that he was holding. Now mixed with blood.

Until he realized that the wolf body he held was actually human.

Until the sweet taste of meat morphed into sick, bitter bile.

He was kneeling on the floor. He had pulled them into his lap, like a lover cradling the other gently.

“No– no no no no no-” He repeated, his voice trembling.

“I- I didn’t– I’m so–”

‘Sorry? No, you aren’t’

That fucking voice.

“I AM. I FUCKING AM–” He was screaming now, panicking, gripping the fabric of Noob’s hoodie, hard. Ugly sobs tore out of him in a desperate frenzy as he tried, so hard, to stuff all the red slop on the ground back into Noob.

‘Hush, child. You may feel pity now, yet nothing can compare to that glorious feeling of relief’

Elliot went silent, a mush of human leaking out of his hands.

‘Can it’

And no, it couldn’t. Regret really couldn’t compare to that perfect feeling of finally, finally being full.

So, after staying there kneeling with a corpse on his lap for what felt like hours, Elliot finally got up. He didn’t drag the Noob, no. He carried them, bridal style, in his arms cause right now he didn’t give a shit about how insane he looked or the way he was getting stained with blood. 

All he wanted was to apologize for not being sorry.

So, he took them out into the woods. Deep into its forgiving depths, and made a small bed. 

He took rocks, flowers, beautiful things and set them around Noob.

Maybe those could be sorry for him.

He closed their eyes, undid their hair, and let them lay in peace.

Yet, as he slipped off their hair tie, put it on his wrist like it was sacred.

Wanna know the real kicker?

The corpse had no tangible body anymore. It was truly a wrangled mess of skin, bone, flesh and sorrow.

Maybe now he had truly lost it.

Chapter Text

Chance sat in the main cabin, fidgeting with the cuffs of his sleeve. His game had been off for the last round. He was the first to die this time, though that may have been warranted given that he’d tried to fire his gun on one charge and it obviously exploded in his face. He can't help it, the risks are all part of the fun. 

Though, the risks in his life right now were not so fun. Mainly because those risks all correlate to a stupidly pretty pizza boy in some way.

Of course, there was that whole thing with Elliot acting weird. Eating his hair and honestly, acting like a feral animal.

But then there was the fact that he might be falling in love with that.

Like, falling in love with Elliot. All of Elliot.

That thought absolutely terrified him, since the last time he fell in love ended in him literally getting stabbed. Fun.

Then again, Elliot was nothing like Itrapped, right?

Other than the fact that they're both blonde. Huh.

But Elliot was kind, sweet. A little weird, sure, but genuine. 

Did Chance even deserve that kind of love?

Before Chance could overthink everything like they normally do, a strong hand was placed on their shoulder. Chance suppressed a flinch and almost instantly put on his trademark smirk. 

“Hey, Shades, you've been acting a little off lately” said a voice both warm and observant, Guest1337. “Everything good?”

Chance let out a small chuckle “yeah, yeah. I’ve just been thinking ‘bout something”

“You? Thinking? Weird.” Teased Shedletsky, emerging from behind Guest.

Chance rolled their eyes, watching Guest fail to suppress a laugh “Nobody asked, Shed”

He shrugged “Blame John”

Before Chance could reply, another voice spoke from behind them “I’m inclined to believe you must be thinking about Elliot, yes?” That was Two time.

Chance jumped “HEY!”

“Oh my god-” Guest started “I remember seeing him in Elliots bed-” he wheezed.

Two times jaw dropped in real time, Shedletsky slapped a table.

“No way? So you're sleeping with him now?” He giggled.

Chance buried his face in his hands, shame written all over him “NOT LIKE THAT- JUST- SHUT UP!”

“You're acting like those characters in Japanese animation, I believe they're called ‘tsun…dres’” Joked Two time, though they still managed to sound like they spoke Shakespearean.

“How do you even know what that is?” Chance muttered. 

“You would be surprised…”  They replied.

Guest1337 cleared his throat “Okay- lets cut to the chase…”

Chance felt his heart drop in real time. Oh god, he was about to get caught in 4k Ultra HD wasn't he? 

That meant he’d been doing a shitty job at keeping up his usual facade. 

He’s COOKED

Chance plastered a grin onto his face “and what would that be?”

“The fact that you are SUCH. A. SIMP. FOR THE PIZZA GUY” Shedletsky yelled out, violently shaking Chance's shoulders.

Chance scowled at the man so hard that it may have been counted as assault in some states.

“Oh, don't give him that-” Guest, ever the reasonable one, tried 

“Might I add, it was rather obvious” Added Two time, that rat.

Chance groaned, trying to hide his face “Ju- just shut up…”

Guest shrugged, “well, they’re right. But that ain't the real reason…”

Shedletsky cleared his throat. “Actually, we just wanted to ask if you’d seen Noob around?”

Chance felt relief overwhelm him, thank god they got off that Elliot train. “Nah, not really. Why?"

Two time tilted their head and frowned “They have not been present since yesterday, it’s rather worrying”

“They might be DEAD,” Shedletsky exclaimed dramatically.

Chance narrowed his eyes “If they died, shouldn’t they have respawned by now?”

“Unless they died—” Two time paused, milking the moment “—OUTSIDE a round” They gestured dying “you all know, permanent demise? Get it?”

Everyone else blinked and glanced at each other in three dots of awkward silence.

“That’s a stretch, though” Guest mused, steering the conversation like a pro. “I mean, why would any of the killers go out of their way to come directly to the cabins and kill someone when they could just… wait for a round to start?”

“Maybe they just really hated Noob?” Shedletsky suggested, shrugging.

Two time jumped, suddenly leaning closer to everyone and making Chance flinch “1x1?”

Shedletsky rolled his eyes and leaned back “1x1 hates me, dipshit”

Two time retreated slightly, deflated, then added “Hold on, has any one of you seen Elliot? I believe I haven’t recently”

Guest and Shedletsky shook their heads, muttering versions of ‘no’ as Chance, who had been zoning out for half the conversation, locked in when he heard Elliot’s name again.

“Elliot?”

“Oh my god, of course now you pay attention” Shedletsky groaned, swatting at Chance mindlessly “Yes, Your precious Elliot also hadn’t been seen since morning”

Chance sat up straighter “No shit im concerned, you're telling me this now?”

Guest sighed, crossing his arms “It’s not as out of character as noob’s disappearance is–”

Two time cut him off, leaning directly into Chance’s personal space “Though, it is possible that the two are…” They leaned in even closer “...Connected”

Chance frowned and pushed them away with one hand “The two are somewhat friends. Maybe they’re perfectly fine and just… hanging out together.”

“Well, a few NPC’s did report hearing a scr-” Guest started

“-scream, like noob’s scream” Shedletsky finished, ignoring an annoyed Guest as his eyes scanned Chance for any reaction.

“Guys, stop-” Guest cut himself off this time “Okay, it's just a bit suspicious that-”

“What the hell are you implying?” Chance spat out, matching Shedletsky’s look with a glare of his own.

Shedletsky raised both of his arms in mock surrender “Hey, Hey. no need to get aggressive, dude”

“Listen, I get that you're sweet on him but…” Guest started, before sighing “Look. it is extreme to accuse the guy of murder”

“Exactly” Chance said cooly “Elliot wouldn’t do anything like that and you all know it”

But the three others exchanged glances, and even Chance didn’t feel so sure. So, he did the thing he was best at.

“Okay– I’m gonna head out” He huffed, standing up from his seat “Talk later.”

Run away.

The other three watched him walk out the cabin door, and said in unison somehow “yeah. He’s cooked”

—

It was cold outside.

It was always cold, no matter the season or the time of day. Yet, this kind of cold was different. 

It felt… inevitable, if that made sense?

Like it was bound to come. Bound to seep into one’s bones and curl around them. Bound to wither even the warmest of smiles.

Chance embraced it. 

Hypothermia gives you one last warm hug before death, after all.

He sat at the beach on the dock, one knee up and the other leg dangling at the mercy of the deep blue. 

Where the hell had all his SURVIVAL INSTINCT gone? Like, seriously, it felt like he was just begging to be ruined. To be broken yet again by someone he needed more than air.

Elliot has been acting strange and is literally being suspected of freaking murder and yet Chance…

Chance wanted to protect him. To defend him, hell, to help if that’s what Elliot needed

It was almost like pineapples were in his head, and he got nobody cause he’s braindead. 

No matter, Chance was gone anyway. A mere shell of a human whose worth was determined by the thickness of his wallet. Thank god his wallet was pretty damn thick…

Right?

As he brooded like a moody teenager, the distinct snap of a twig made his head shoot up, eyes scanning the edge of the forest for any movement. He squinted, standing up to try and get a better view.

He could’ve sworn he’d caught a flash of vibrant, blonde hair.

Nevertheless, he walked towards it like an idiot. Was it curiosity? Boredom?

…An aching loneliness?

We may never know

—

Elliot lay low in the bushes.

He wanted, so badly, to just run into Chance's arms. To be held like he was worth caring about. 

Like there wasn’t a body rotting only meters away from where he stood.

Elliot shook his head, focus 

On his wrist, he still wore Noob’s hair tie.

He held that damn thing like a vice.

A reminder of the monster he could be.

Elliot began to back away, regret flooding his senses. Not regret for what he did, but regret for thinking he deserved love at all. For thinking that after enjoying what he did, he should still be held.

Yet after a blur of movement his brain didn’t register, he was staring face to face with blue and hazel eyes blinking at him behind tinted sunglasses.

“...Elliot?” They breathed softly, like they couldn’t believe their eyes.

Chance loomed over Elliot, staring down at him. Elliot had no clue when they’d got here, or how. All he knew is that they were here and that made Elliot feel so much safer for some reason.

Elliot stared up at him, not saying a word. He was crouched before Chance, His pupils fat and fixed like a cat staring lovingly at its owner

“Elliot.” Chance repeated, a little firmer now. Not angry like he should be, just… tired “Ellie– oh my god, what happened to you?”

Elliot didn’t reply, he just tilted his head slightly.

Holy shit, what had happened to him.

“You’re covered in blood and– okay,” Chance took a deep breath “You’re hiding shit from me, El. And clearly, it's eating you alive”

Elliot blinked.

Chance continued regardless “Just… tell me what's going on. Please.”

Still, Elliot didn't respond. Like he couldn’t. He just looked up at Chance like he hoped his eyes would do all the talking for him. They didn't, but it was worth a shot.

It wasn’t until Chance narrowed his eyes and finally accused “...You did something to Noob, didn’t you?”

That Elliot finally snapped out of whatever trance he was in.

“I- I… I didn’t mean–” He stammered “I was– I thought they were a–”

Before Chance could respond, or even process what Elliot had just said, there was a body entirely wrapped around him. Legs around his waist, Arms around his neck and an entire frame shaking with sobs 

Now, what any sane person would've done, should've done, is push the literal murderer off themselves and report them or something.

Unfortunately, Chance wasn’t sane. Chance was sleep deprived, panicking internally and the worst of all;

Gay.

So, Chance wrapped his arms around Elliot in return and held him. 

“Hey, don’t cry. It’s–” he was going to say okay, but how could he? They both knew that was bullshit.

“I- I didn’t mean to kill them— I just—” Elliot sobbed into Chance’s chest “I- I’m sorry”

And Chance, for once, was speechless.

Until Elliot’s sobs started sounding…more controlled.

And then his chest shook.

And then he was laughing manically.

Elliot pulled back, cackling like a damn Disney villain, but his laughter wasn’t warm. It was a haunting hush of what joy used to be. Like a broken music box still trying to play its favorite song while its gears rust in blood.

Or, like someone had finally realized that all of this was just one sick fucking joke to a god who just wanted to see them suffer.

He didn’t stop when Chance pulled back from the hug, confusion, betrayal written all over his face.

Elliot only laughed harder.

“Elliot, what the hell?” Chance muttered, though it didn’t lack bite.

Despite Chance’s tone, Elliot’s shoulders shook with laughter. He buried his face in his hands, before throwing his head back to peek through said hands and stare at the vast, mocking sky. 

“...That guy really hates me, huh?” He huffed out.

“What?”

“The spectre”

“…Are you insane?”

Elliot didn’t even respond to that, because the answer was one neither of them wanted to admit out loud. 

That’s when Chance remembered something.

The pizza Elliot fed him, lovingly. The way he became giddy the second chance complemented it, the way he couldn’t figure out what the meat was-

“Ellie” He started slowly “That pizza you gave me, wha— what was in it?”

The silence was deafening.

“Bird” Elliot responded after a while, his voice flat.

“You mean chicken, right?”

More silence.

“Bird” Elliot repeated in the same tone “I caught it myself”

“Holy shit, I did eat mystery meat pizza?”

“…I mean I took out the eyeballs—“

“ELLIOT.”

“It was perfect! You should’ve loved it!”

“What does that even mean”

Elliot stared at Chance, tilting his head again like he truly didn’t understand what was so wrong about serving someone wrangled bird guts.

Horrifying stuff, though, if Chance had to be honest, a little cute in a weird and deranged way.

NO, Focus

Chance repressed the urge to gag, then coldly stated “Okay, no. Talk to me normally or–” , before taking a second to look.

To look at Elliot, fully on his lap now though the moment was anything but sexual. To look at the boy who was possibly losing it, the boy who’d killed one of his own friends for god's sake.

The boy he loved.

“-Or don't talk to me at all” He finished, with an air of uncertainty. Yet, he pushed Elliot off him regardless and stood up.

Elliot stared up at him, wide eyed and kneeling again. 

“...what” He whispered.

“Yeah, I-” Chance exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair “Fuck. I can’t do this, Elliot” 

Elliot trembled, any trace of laughter in him now dead “Chance, please–”

“Don’t. Just don’t” Chance snapped, turning away “I’m not gonna let myself get ruined again. ”

“n-no– wait- Please, please don't leave” Elliot choked out, tears threatening to fall again.

But Chance was already walking away, fedora tilted low over his face to hide it.

“Please– please, pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease-” Elliot begged, breathing fast and hard.

Yet Chance had already disappeared into the clearing.

“DONT LEAVE ME” He screamed one more time, only for his only response to be the echo of the forest.

Dirt dug into his knees, he didn’t care. Ugly cries tore out of him as he kneeled over in the woods.

Alone.

Hurt.

Being watched intently by the being above.

Chapter Text

Elliot walked through the woods aimlessly, like he was moving for the sake of it. For the sake of having legs that needed to be used despite the fact that right now, he was useless.

The trees blurred into mere obstacles to avoid when walking forward. His body sagged like he wasn’t even bothering to keep himself upright, like a mindless beast prowling around seeking purpose.

After a while, the world started looking all too unfamiliar. The forest went from a cold imitation of cozy to downright creepy. The world tinted red and the ambiance screamed danger without even trying.

Elliot had wandered too close to the killer's side of the realm. Yet, right now? He couldn’t care less.

To be honest, he wanted nothing more than to just walk right into the cabins and be mauled. Maybe then he’d finally have peace.

However, as tempting as that idea was, Elliot, despite the fact that he should have had all the time in the world right now, didn’t have time for that.

Because, his stalker was back. Yeah the one from chapter three, remember them?

Elliot picked up on the signs all too soon. The sound of extra footsteps, the shifting shadows and the simple feeling of eyes on him were dead giveaways.

“Show yourself” he sighed, his voice not scared nor angry, just… tired “I know your watching me, show yourself”

And then, from the shadows of the trees, it emerged.

It was a beautiful, ugly thing. Made of code and malice and an oddly large hat. Its figure resembled a human, but just barely. Its eyes were long and watchful and you could tell it was grinning despite the absence of a mouth.

The Spectre.

“Ah, of course you do” It hummed sweetly, stepping in front of Elliot “You have Killer instincts, don’t you?”

“…Am I not broken enough already?” Elliot muttered, his voice low and hollow. He refused to look directly at the spectre, instead staring at anything but it.

Yet the spectre only chuckled, before reaching its “hand” out to tip Elliot’s chin up, forcing him to meet its gaze.

“Broken?” It repeated in mock surprise “Darling, you aren’t broken. Your just finally being yourself”

Elliot glared at it for a second before jerking his head away. “Don’t touch me”

But the spectre only tilted its head and smiled “You aren’t denying it, are you?”

didn’t respond, he just glared at the thing, mustering up strength he didn’t have.

The spectre circled him now, like he was the prey in this instance. 

He hated the feeling.

The feeling of being small, helpless, selfless. The feeling he’d get when he would never complain about how his hands ached after kneading dough for too long. The feeling he felt when just hours ago he kneeled down begging his partner to just not leave him. 

And what did that partner do?

Leave.

Then, the spectre spoke again, as though it felt his hatred “Hopeless, that’s what you are right now—”

Elliot’s head snapped up, “Gee, thanks.” He murmured sarcastically.

The spectre shook its head, almost fond, ignoring Elliot’s comment “—But, I can help you with that”

Elliot pretended not to be interested, the spectre continued “All you have to do is join them” It gestured to the killer cabins just beyond the woods.

“You want me to become a killer? To torture the others like you did to me?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes “Do it yourself, jackass”

And then, memories flashed through his mind. Barely registering yet burning his brain like a brand.

There was one of him, before everything, watching with wide, terrified eyes as his pizza place, his dads pride and joy, burned before him. 007n7’s doing, of course.

Another one, him kneeling on the ground, noob dead on his lap. He was breaking down, hyperventilating, desperately stuffing their insides back into them in a desperate, pathetic attempt to fix them.

And the last, the worst, of course, Chance.

Just.

Chance.

Elliot screamed, doubling over in pain as he clutched his head in a desperate attempt to stop it.

It was all over just a second later, yet the damage had been done.

The spectre grinned, not even saying anything. Just… watching. Watching Elliot scramble to try and block out all the noise, or rather, silence now plaguing his head again. Watching, as the bastard always did.

Eventually, Elliot looked up at the spectre again, his voice strained “Tsk, T-that was extreme…”

“That, darling, was only a couple of the many reasons you should consider my offer” It smiled again, leaning down to Elliot’s level. Its “breath” fanned his ear. “You can be beautiful. Art. A poetic tragedy. All you have to do is join”

Tempting… wait. Was the world always this foggy?

That’s when black dots formed in Elliot's vision. They grew larger as the world grew blurrier and eventually, he succumbed to nothing.

——

Elliot had collapsed beside a tree for god knows how long, and he, debatably, did not look good doing it. It was giving… crumpled tissue paper someone’s (my) mom threw out of a moving car once. 

He was breathing like he’d just ran a marathon, his head was still throbbing like an echo.

It was at times like these where all he could think about, all he wanted to think about no matter how many lies he told himself, was Chance.

Fucking Chance.

And how much Elliot yearned to just be held by him like he used to be.

Then, Chance was in front of him.

His frame was too grey, his eyes were too bright and his smile was fake, yet it was Chance. Chance, crawling between Elliot’s legs right now. Smiling down at him like he normally did. 

Affectionate, happy.

Elliot watched him do it with no reaction, just a blank stare and a small head tilt. The limbs felt cold against his skin, he didn’t care. Chance was holding him.

“I loved you, killer” Chance said, his voice a pathetic imitation.

That earned a small smile from Elliot. Sarcastic, small but still a smile. “Right.” He muttered “And I broke your trust and now you hate me and blah blah blah”

Chance’s smile never faltered. Instead, he leaned in closer “Fine” he huffed “You did. And now, you're broken and pathetic.” His tone was light, despite his words.

“And?” Elliot groaned. 

“Take the damn title, killer” Then, Chance glitched. Physically, before morphing into Noob “make it your own” they hummed in his ear.

Elliot just rolled his eyes, trying to push Noob off him only for his hand to phase right through them “Get a life—“ he started, before letting out a small, humorless giggle. “—Oh. wait.”

Noob leaned back, though only slightly “Hiding doesn’t change what you are, Elliot” they whispered 

“You’re a killer” They then glitched again, into 1x1 “just” now they were a Noli “like” and finally, C00lkidd “me.”

Elliot flinched slightly when the killers showed up, yet he held his stance, albeit uncertainty “Maybe, but I ain’t joining you” he spat “It won’t get that satisfaction”

Even if it was insanely tempting.

Even when his stomach still ached for meat.

Even when a weird shadow tendril slithered out and grabbed the hallucination, tossing it to the side like a sack of potatoes— wait what.

“…Are you schizophrenic?” A rough voice spoke from the shadows.

Elliot looked up and saw two purple eyes staring back down at him. A figure that looked at though they were entirely shadow, tendrils snaking out from behind them. 

Also, suspiciously fluffy hair and a really big witch hat… what was with eldritch beings and their big hats in this realm?

Elliot recognised the figure as Azure, one of the killers.

“…thanks.” He murmured after a while, ignoring Azure’s previous comment.

“Don’t mention it.” Azure groaned, sounding like he’s already regretting saving Elliot.

You could literally hear the crickets chirping in the silence that followed.

Finally, Azure spoke again “Your kill earlier was… decent”

Elliot blinked, confused “you know about that?”

“I saw it.” 

“WAIT wha— were you my stalker?”

“Yup. You didn’t care, though”

Elliot facepalmed “That’s cause I thought you were the spectre— oh my god—“

Azure crossed his arms and sighed “Chill out and take the complement”

“It’s not a—“ Elliot huffed, sitting up a little straighter “I’m not a killer.”

“Oh, really?” Azure raised a nonexistent eyebrow “cause that looked like killing to me”

Elliot rolled his eyes “No, I mean I’m not one of you”

“Racist.”

“THATS NOT WHAT I—“

“I’m kidding. Somewhat”

Azure gave Elliot a full body look before adding “Also, why not join?”

Elliot narrowed his eyes “Why should I?”

“You literally killed someone—“ Azure remarked 

“I’m not under the spectre’s control” Elliot interrupted coldly.

Azure scoffed “In this hell? We all are”

He then stole a glance at Elliot, sat under a tree like a stray cat with no sense of direction and… something flickered in his eyes. It looked like familiarity, hell, maybe even Deja vu.

“Look. Whatever path you choose, it’s gonna suck either way” Azure added, adjusting his hat “you can either stick with being something you're not, or just embrace the bloodthirst”

Elliot went silent, looking away for a second.

Azure let the silence hold, before offering Elliot his hand “It’s better than being useless”

Elliot paused, the weight of every moment before this, his entire life before this screamed at him to say no. Yet, it just felt right. Like it was somehow, in some twisted sense, meant to be. 

And, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, Azure was right. It’s better than being useless.

So, he reached forward.

And took Azure’s hand.

—-

Azure was leaning against a tree, alone now like he usually is, when it spoke. What spoke, you ask? 

His hat.

“Well done” It cooed “Your vulnerability at the end was something I did not ex–”

“Shut up.” Azure snapped, glaring up at it “I only said that to make him join”

The hat chuckled “we both know that's not true, but alright”

Azure grumbled something unintelligible

The hat continued on “A reward must be due–”

“No, no” Azure shook his head “I did what you said, I made him a killer. Done, dusted, case closed”

The hat shook its head and sighed “very well then”

Then, the hat sagged again, limp. 

Azure groaned, dragging a hand down his face 

“Goddamnit, I hope he doesn’t become another me”

Chapter Text

Chance lay curled up in the fetal position in his bed. He was well aware of how pathetic he looked right then and there, and he wished he could say he didn’t care.

Truth is, he did.

Chance would have loved to say he only had one problem on his mind, even if that problem was the one that hurt the most.

Yet, he had several.

The entire reason Chance was awake at such an ungodly hour, again, was the fact that whenever he’d close his eyes all he could think of was pizza, blonde hair and betrayal.

And tears.

And a loud yet distant “DON’T LEAVE ME–” screamed at the top of lungs that were drowning just as much as he was.

No.

He wasn’t drowning.

He was fine.

Chance smirked, even while no one was watching. To convince himself, more than anything.

Then he rolled over, frowned, and buried his face in his hands.

God, he was a piece of shit.

…

Chance kicked off his blankets and swung his legs over the bed. He stalked over to the cabinets in their his cabin. He opened the cabinet and fumbled through it, eventually pulling out a bottle of something. Chance didn’t know what, and he didn’t care. If it silenced the shit in his head, it worked.

He popped the lid and took a big ol’ swig of it. The alcohol tasted like shit, as per usual, but the way it stung his tongue and ran down his throat like hot embers was addicting.

Oh, how he yearned for warmth.

He gagged before downed the entire bottle in one swig, setting it down on the counter top with an obnoxious clang… Then a shatter.

Fuck.

Chance stared at the shattered glass now decorating the floor. He huffed, annoyed, before deciding that this was a problem for another time. He swayed, his hands flying to the edge of the counter to steady himself.

Except, oops! He’d just gripped a handful of glass.

When the glass cut into his hands, he realized something.

It felt.

Not pleasant. Not at all. But it was a feeling and it felt good to feel.

He pressed his hands together so that maybe he could feel more. Maybe this was how it was supposed to be. He should do this more often.

He could just hear Elliot scolding him in that sexy ass voice. All “Chance! Oh for spawns sake– what have you–”

Weird, Elliot wouldn’t say “spawn”. He’d just say “god”.

Whatever.

“You are bleeding! Are you even listening–” Elliot would yell, though he’d always just patch Chance up. Always.

Chance felt himself getting tugged somewhere. Then, he sagged into someone’s arms.

“Elliot?” He whispered, barely audible.

He hated how much he wanted it to be Elliot.

“Unfortunately, no. I am–”

Chance could barely hear what the other person said. He just pulled them into a sloppy, desperate hug. He felt the other falter for a second, trailing off with something that sounded like “-Two… time…” before wrapping their hands around him in return.

“Elliot” he whined again into their shoulder.

Two time sighed, before dragging a completely and utterly wasted Chance to the couch. They sat him down, trying to keep him from just collapsing on them entirely and failing miserably.

“Chance? Are you alright?” It was a stupid question to ask, obviously Chance was not okay.

But Chance responded with something even dumber “m’ fine. Just tipsy, ya know”

He then proceeded to flop down into their lap like a pathetic dog, lost without its owner.

“Ugh, Sor— Sorry, sugar. Yer warm, *hic* though” Chance slurred, shifting awkwardly.

Two times hands hovered awkwardly around Chance, their eyes wide and locked on him. Eventually, they resorted to petting his hair in a rushed motion. Like they were soothing a pet, though it had little effect.

“Where must Elliot be when one needs him?” Two time groaned under their breath.

The only word Chance heard was Elliot.

“I–I’m sorry” He whined into Two time’s jacket “I *hic* –I never should’ve left you–”

“Left who?”

“You”

“Chance, I–”

Aaaaand Chance just fell asleep. Cool. awesome. perfect.

Two time sighed, trying to maneuver themselves off Chance. After a bout of gentle untangling, they stood up, dusted themselves off and stared at the broken shell of a person now resting in an ungodly position on the couch.

Almost like someone they once knew.

They shook their head with a frustrated grunt and headed towards the door again.

And then looked back because of course they did.

Chance’s hands were bruised and bleeding, glass shards littered in and around them.

Bleeding.

Like Azure once was.

Now, every bone in Two time’s body screamed at them to just leave. This wasn’t their problem, and frankly, none of their business.

But all they could see when they looked at Chance was Azure, a once charming figure betrayed by the love of their life and thus completely lost themselves in the aftermath.

And maybe, maybe if Two time had just been there for Azure. Maybe if they’d patched him up after stabbing him. Maybe if they’d just never stabbed him in the first place, none of this would have happened.

Two time sighed, before padding off to find Chance’s medicine cabinet.

——

Chance’s first thought of the morning was ‘who the hell put a jackhammer in my head?’

His second thought, when he tried to reach for the water and mystery pill placed conveniently in front of him was ‘Why are my hands so damn big’

Oh.

They’ve been bandaged.

Chance flexed his hands as best he could. The bandage made his hands feel numb, again. Like the rest of him.

He hated that.

He couldn’t remember much of what happened last night. He remembered the shatter of a bottle, some kind of feeling, and somebody he hoped was Elliot holding him gently.

Even when he didn’t deserve to be held.

Chance stared at the bandages for a beat.

He felt nothing.

…

He ripped them off.

White fabric that was stained shades of red and brown fluttered down gently and littered the ground and couch underneath him.

But Chance was fixated on his hands.

His eyes traced the cuts with a little too much interest. Some were deep, possibly serious, while others were smaller and less of a threat.

Chance smiled faintly.

It just felt so much more like him

——

The round had started off normal enough, despite the fact that for some reason, the killer hadn’t been announced like usual. So the survivors were a bit on edge.

The map was the one of builder brothers pizza, after the incident of course.

Ding! Ding! [insert that noise when chance gets weakness]

“You think it’s a new killer?” Guest1337 asked Shedletsky over a generator.

Shedletsky, who was fiddling with the wires and not doing much, huffed “Probably. Builder said he felt a ‘disturbance in the force’ or whatever”

Ding! EhxErrx

Guest narrowed his eyes “What does that even mean”

Ding! Ding! Ding! [The sound of Weakness 9828723]

“No clue” Shedletsky shrugged “But to be honest, i kinda get it”

He then turned his head and glared at the source of an obnoxious coin flipping noise that had been present throughout the conversation.

“Stop gambling for once in your life and help us” Shedletsky scorned.

The figure leaning against the wall flipping his coin endlessly was Chance, who decided to finally pay attention “shut up, lady luck’s not been nice to me today”

“Psh, when is she ever?” Shedletsky rolled his eyes.

“Hey.” Guest scolded, albeit weakly, “It’s been a tough week for everyone. Cut ‘em some slack”

Chance gave Guest a small, grateful smile “thanks.”

A weirdly precise saw then proceeded to come out of literally nowhere and chop off 25hp for Shedletsky and Guest1337. Chance managed to dodge it, narrowly.

“HOLY SHIT—“ They all yelled out, too shocked to even register the pain.

“I could’ve blocked that” Guest groaned

“Sure, yeah, block a LITERAL SAW going at 100mph” Shedletsky quipped, gesturing with his hands.

“Anything is possible” Chance defended “Plus he can literally block mass infection”

Shedletsky crossed his arms and grumbled bitterly “I could block mass infection”

Guest scoffed “I’ve love to see you try”

The saw hadn’t returned to its owner. It was just lying there as the three blissfully ignorant fools argued.

Then, out of the same nowhere, a pizza was thrown towards them.

“Elliot?” Chance breathed, watching the pizza with wide eyes.

Shedletsky dove for it “LETS GO— Elliot’s back!!”

Guest shoved him lightly “Oi! Pizzas mine, you have your chicken”

“Yeah, fatass,” Chance muttered. But he was about to reach for it too, despite having full health. Just to confirm that it was real.

And then he was pulled behind a wall by an unknown entity.

“WHA— HEY!!” He tried, until an explosion erupted from where he had just been.

Which means Shedletsky and Guest—

“Chance.” Two times voice spoke, still holding him “Do you know who the current killer is?”

“No, who’s—“ Chance cut himself off as he noticed Two time was only at 10hp “Shit, time, what happened”

Two time went silent for a second, before suddenly pulling Chance into a hug.

Chance froze, his hands hovering awkwardly around them “Hey, uh— you… good?”

“Chance” Two time murmured “I… I am sorry to say the killer is—“

They didn’t scream when they dropped to the ground. They didn’t even yell. It was like they knew it would happen.

Last. Man. Standing.

Chance had barely registered what was going on when his location was revealed to the killer.

But it was useless, because the killer was right in front of him.

Standing there.

Chance’s arms dropped to his side.

And so did Elliot’s.

Chapter Text

The round didn’t open with the usual grandeur, not this time. Elliot's first entrance as a killer was silent, much like himself nowadays. 

He simply popped into the map, though to the Spectre’s credit, the transition was smoother than when he was a survivor. You’ve gotta appreciate the little things, right?

Then, the smell of burning hit his nose. Smoke curled around him and Elliot didn’t even need to open his eyes to know the map he was currently on.

Work at a pizza place.

His pizza place, after the destruction C00lkidd and 007n7 brought to it of course.

Elliot scoffed, then let out an empty chuckle.

The Spectre really thought he cared? After all that? Loss was an old friend to him. The map that once haunted him was now a cold comfort. 

Ironic, given the fire littered throughout. A sick joke, and one he didn’t mind laughing at, even if he didn't find it funny.

Though maybe that was just the Spectre’s end goal. He was but a puppet in its game, after all.

So he best be a good puppet and get to being useful.

Elliot stared at the weight now sitting on his hand. A clean, circular saw, resembling the ones he used to use when working at builder brothers. What a throwback.

He then shifted his gaze to the survivors that now crowded around him.

Everyone but the sentinels. Oh wait, Two time’s here too. 

They were all squinting at him like he was some kind of animal, probably uttering sympathetic phrases like “Elliot! Are you okay?” or “Elliot? You… good?” 

Elliot didn’t know. He wasn’t paying attention.

What his eyes were locked on, however, was a man in a blue shirt and a stupid burger hat. The source of Elliot's problems.

007n7.

Well, he was the third source, but a source nonetheless.

The man whose child burned his pizza place down to the very ground he used to tread on. Before all this.

Now, he never blamed C00lkidd for the mess. He was a kid, after all, he didn’t know any better. 

He knows what it's like.

Elliot blames the father who should’ve known better.

So he was hardly surprised when he found his hands clutching the blue shirt just before he had snapped out of his own thoughts. How nice of Elliot's body to remind him of his job.

007n7 stammered out confused ‘Elliot?’’s and nervous pleads. 

It was normal for 007n7 to talk to Elliot this way, as though he was trying to make up for his past mistakes while ignoring them at the same time. 

Pathetic.

Elliot swung at him with his saw. A simple strike forward, just to shut him up. Unfortunately, it did not do that.

007n7 staggered back, choking slightly and looking up at Elliot as though he was the monster. Which he was, but 007n7 had started it. Technically.

The crowd had gone from confused murmuring to straight up confusion and panic. Gasps echoed all around, as though Elliot had committed some sort of sin. Was it not justice to rid the world of useless hackers like 007n7?

Obviously not, but one can pretend.

Elliot was good at pretending.

So, the second strike of his blade came down. It was at this point that 007n7 finally realized what he should do.

Run.

Elliot had dealt 48 damage to the man already, so he was barely over 50hp. 007n7 got behind a corner, catching his breath and by extension his stamina. He peaked over the brick wall, praying Elliot had gone after someone else. Or even better, snapped out of it.

Elliot hadn’t. 007n7 could tell by the saw that had just chopped his arm off.

Seven choked on his own scream as he clutched his arm in panic and desperation. He collapsed to the ground, his thoughts racing.

If noob died, really died, then…

Was this permanent?

WAS THIS PERMANENT?

007n7 could only watch as Elliot walked closer.

Closer.

Closer.

Saw raised.

Then, Elliot bent down and picked up 007n7’s arm, still fresh. Still raw. 

And took a bite.

“ELLIOT– H-HAVE YOU GONE INSANE?” Seven yelled, his voice strained as he limped helplessly, cornered and shivering.

Elliot was on him in a flash. Saw to the head.

“Maybe I have” he croaked “but i’ve wanted to do this ever since i was a survivor”

Yet, with his saw raised and his energy low, something flickered in Elliot’s eyes. Sympathy? Pain? Humanity?

Nah.

007n7’s name and picture turned red on everyone's screens.

Like his son, how fitting.

Elliot had just tossed Seven's hand to the side when a familiar voice screeched in his head. A pure mockery of pride.

‘Good puppet’ it cooed ‘you’re finally doing what you were made to do’

Elliot paused, an eerily empty smile plastered on his face “liar.”

He turned away and threw his saw into the face of nowhere. It just so happened to hit two other survivors.

 Guest1337 and Shedletsky. How interesting.

Elliot then felt a sharp pain stab him. Then, a twist of a dagger as though to add salt to the wound.

Two time.

Elliot summoned the saw back to his side, and it came somehow. Like a loyal dog, no matter the logistics. Nice and convenient, especially for the author. 

Time to take care of this mosquito.

The pest looped him around some ruins, a chase that felt never-ending, if Elliot didn’t have an ace up his sleeve.

Rush hour.

Two time never stood a chance. 

Elliot got one hit in, 28 dmg with bleeding. Then another, after a quick dash forward.

Then they just fucking disappeared.

Elliot squinted, they weren’t even on their second life? How the—

And then he heard a familiar voice. One he knew all too well, laughing. 

Elliot followed the sound

He walked over to where the three sentinels stood arguing about the saw that had just attacked them. Being not as big or as bright as the other killers, it was easy for Elliot to lay low behind a foodtruck. 

He saw Shedletsky.

Guest1337.

And…

Him.

His mere presence made the air around Elliot thick enough to suffocate on. 

The three seemed to be debating about something, Elliot couldn’t really hear what. Nevertheless, his eyes were focused on him and how…

Fuck. 

A lump began to rise in Elliot's throat, emotions he thought he was numb to stirring. Everything unsaid lay in the air like humidity, a weight that couldn't be lifted. A cold without any semblance of warmth.

And to think they were once each other's warmth. 

Elliot scoffed before throwing a pizza at the three sentinels, a gesture that was familiar to him. It was intriguing, how they all ran to it like pathetic, desperate strays starved for food.

Of course, the pizza would inevitably blow up in their face. What had they expected? Though, he was surprised when it straight up killed Shedletsky. 

Though, Guest was quick work. A shred with Elliot’s saw. 

Two remained.

Elliot saw said two behind a wall, hugging.

Hugging.

Elliot plunged a saw into the shorter one's body, watching with nothing but satisfaction as they silently fell to the ground.

Last. Man. Standing.

Elliot’s arms dropped to his side.

And so did Chance’s.