Chapter Text
Anthony would be lying if he said he didn't think he was the problem, or had really bad luck.
Almost everyone he's ever known dies while he still knows them.
His newest collaborator, “Mettaton”, was found dead with his limbs removed just last week. (He'd been the one to stumble across it, it made him sick.)
His oldest friend, Ram, who he had been having problems with near the end, killed himself over the weekend a year or so ago. (he would never admit how much he cried and missed him.)
“Queen”, frequent sponsor and sometimes even collaborator, died in her mansion due to alcohol poisoning half a decade ago. (the alcohol was poisoned, not that she drank too much.)
And Spencer, his business partner, his best friend, the light of his life…
He didn't want to think about his death. He'd be perfectly fine forgetting it. All that blood….
But, that doesn't matter. It doesn't! Life goes on and he has to get over it.
But sometimes, late at night, he wonders if the world would be better off without him in it. Sometimes he wonders if he should just disappear.
He doesn't, because he still has a family. Because then he imagines how his brother would feel sitting right there in the front row of his funeral, with his ex-wife and their children, and it makes him sick.
He has a show as well. A show that has been steadily declining in viewership ever since Spencer’s… death. But it’s fine. He has a plan to get it back on air.
So he moves forward, whether he wants to or not.
It's not all bad, of course! “Elnina” and “Lanino” (Stage names, and only he knows their real ones) are by his side through it all, and he's truly grateful for it. The Mikes are always there too, they just recently went on their honeymoon! He saw the pictures, it was beautiful.
He wished he'd been able to have a honeymoon with.. No. No use thinking about something like that.
But… wouldn't it have been wonderful? He and Spencer, at the altar, pledging their undying love and promising themselves to the other forever.
Until death do us part.
..And then! They'd go to Vegas! Like they always did after important milestones.
No. Don't think like that, Anthony. No one would marry two men. Especially not men like them.
But, by the Angel, he wishes.
But there's no use thinking like that! He has a show to run.
He checks himself one more time in the mirror he'd been zoning out in front of for the last 30 minutes, and gets up to leave.
But something stops him, then. It's so cold, and he can't move. He almost wonders if his legs are freezing up again until the ceiling fan in front of him falls, dropping to the floor with a deafening crash.
The coldness dissipates a few moments after, and he finds he can move again. Anthony steps over the debris with shaking legs, and walks out of his dressing room, mumbling something about getting Mike to call someone to fix the ceiling.
Behind him, in the mirror, a short man with slicked-back hair pumps his fist.
–
“Alright! Another close call. Queen, I thought you were making sure no one rigged anything?”
“LMAO I Don't Really Care.” Spencer rubbed at his eyes, fingers flexing.
“Okay, but we're trying to keep him alive.” he sighed.
The newest of their little group spoke up, “I'm sorry for asking, darling, but wouldn't you want him dead with you?”
That gave Spencer pause. Shouldn't he? Anthony was his Angel. The light of his life. Was it so selfish to let him die so that they could be together for eternity?
Yes. Yes it was. Spencer died because he thought he could go back on the deal, because he was selfish and wanted a life with Anthony.
His poor Angel was in a shady deal of his own. He could see it, the papers, the terms and conditions, and how Anthony had signed it with shaking hands about a month ago. It made him sick.
If his beautiful Cathode (an inside joke within the studio) could survive his deal and cut his strings, then Spencer knows everything will be okay, and he won't be needed anymore.
Presently, all Spencer did was shrug at the newbie. “I dunno, I just want him alive.”
“Mm, y’sure you'd be able to handle him with anyone else, mate?” Ram piped up from where he was standing. Spamton hadn't seen him there.
“I handled him with Mettaton, didn't I?” the newbie raised his brow.
“I remember getting quite the chilly reception, darling. Not to mention the missing makeup and props.” Mettaton easily replied.
Spamton sputtered for a moment, before briskly walking through the door to follow after Anthony. The other three followed behind.
“This Is Such A Dumpster Fire. So Peak.” Queen was the last one out.
“The hell does “peak” mean?” Queen shrugged her shoulders at Spencer, laughing to herself.
“Don't Worry About It Old Man”
“Old!? I died younger than you!” His stark white form became entirely red in the face.
“LMAO Yeah But You Were Born Two Years Older.” The shadow where her eyes would be lit up with a red “TRUE”.
Mettaton and Ram quietly gossiped as Queen and Spencer argued.