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He could feel them everywhere. In his fingers. In his veins. Wrapping around his neck like a noose. And somehow no one else could see them.
His vision was getting blurrier by the second. He knew how it would end, so he chose to not delay it any longer. He let go.
He was sure the torment would end then and there. With the glass shards buried in his skin, and the metal crushing his body. But to his horror it didn’t.
Hands that didn’t feel quite human pulled him away from certain death, but he was sure the thing holding him didn’t particularly care about keeping him alive. What use did he have for it now that he violated the terms of their contract?
The unnaturally large grin that figure held was no longer a sign of friendliness, but rather a means of intimidation. He’d have to watch this thing smile at his disgrace until his body finally shut down. Feel its pink and yellow gaze mock his last moments.
He could feel more hands than the average human being should have holding him down, maintaining his head under what he could only assume was the sea by how cold it felt. It was dark, so dark he shouldn’t be able to see anything at all, yet the sea was colored a distinct navy blue. It was as if he stared at a kaleidoscope made of a single pattern.
He closed his eyes, but the pattern didn’t cease to be there.
…
Stanton stood up abruptly, breathing hard and fast as if he was seconds away from drowning. That can’t be good for his back. He grips the blankets so firmly his hands shake. He stares numbly at the dark, only brought back to reality by the other man shuffling in the bed by his side.
God damn it. He laments in his head. After all the struggle that was setting things right between the two of them, he dreaded ruining it with his neurosis. But it was already too late, as the other man lazily sat up. He turned his face to stare at Stan, despite having his eyes half covered by his signature TV Time branded sleep mask.
“...Everything alright?” He brought his hand to Stanton’s back, massaging it in a circular motion. The attempt at soothing him proved somewhat successful, as his grip on the covers loosened.
“Go b-back to sleep, Ant.” He tilted his head to the side slightly, not daring to look at his companion. “It ain’t worth y-y-your time.” His voice was unusually shaky, even for him. Unluckily for Stanton, Anthony was the kind of person to pick up on the smallest of details when it came to how his peers behaved around him(even to his own detriment at times).
“You don’t have to hide things from me, y’know. It’s the one thing I thought we wouldn’t do to each other anymore.” He tried to finish his statement with a chuckle, to lighten the mood, but that didn’t really change the fact that it stung. The realization of that dawned on him as soon as he stopped talking “I mean, you don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to! It’s just that-”
“It was a-about him.” Stanton turned his head back to stare at the other man, who received him with a worried expression. Anthony stopped whatever ramblings he had in mind almost immediately, choosing to keep silent as Stanton racked his brain in order to try and explain it all in a way that made sense.
“T-the same shit as u-usual. When I left y-your studio. When I left y-y-you.” He paused, picking at the skin of his fingers. “A-and he sh-showed me why I shouldn't- shouldn’t have d-done that- Eahahah…” No amount of laughter could ever shake off the air of melancholy his ramblings had when it came to this subject.
“Stan...” He brought the hand that previously rested on his back to his face, cupping his cheek. Stanton silently leaned onto the touch. Anthony still failed to fully comprehend why someone would go through such lengths to torment Stanton, to split them apart and leave the pain of betrayal to stir until it turned into hate. “Look, it’s… It’s okay now, right? He’s not here anymore, and if he showed up I'd, uh… Give him a show he’d never forget!” He finished his statement by gesturing wildly with his free hand.
“Eahahah…. Yyou're still corny as ev-er.” The slight smile that Stanton cracked in response made any worry that he just said the wrong thing fizzle away in an instant. Even after all this time, it still felt like a beacon of guiding light to Anthony. “G-guess you’re right though. Ju-just, it’s like one day i’ll wake up back in a du–mp again a-and… F-figure out n-none of this is real.”
Anthony tried to suppress his grimace. He knows it won’t make the situation any better, but just thinking about how many horrible things Stanton went through, about how he wasn’t there to help, it all made his head hurt. “Hah, we’re in the same boat then. Feels too good to be true sometimes…” He moved his hand from Stanton’s face to fix his hair(or what remained of it), moving a few strands to behind his ear. “It’s easier to dismiss it when you’re here with me though.” So please don’t leave again.
“Rrright…” Stanton stared into the distance, although less from shame and more from bashfulness. The physical affection was something he long ago accepted he’d never receive again, and yet there he was. He was certainly glad they were both in the dark, so Anthony couldn’t notice how his face was turning red in an almost cartoonish way. “W-we should g-go back to sleep now tha-that you’ve got your a-answers.”
“Hey! Don’t say it like I'm some sorta detective, I just worry about you is all.” Anthony’s hand moved to playfully pinch his cheek. The dim light illuminated just enough to reveal the dorky crooked smile that formed in Stanton’s mouth. “But you’re right. Good night, Stan.” Anthony stretched his arms in the air for a few seconds, before pulling his sleeping mask back on and laying down. He felt the covers shuffle as the man by his side did the same.
“G’night.” And just like that the room went back to complete silence.
…The silence was quickly replaced by Stanton shuffling in his spot every once in a while, and consequently hogging the blankets.
Anthony was admittedly a bit annoyed by it. But in true showman spirit, he was quick to make the best out of an inconvenient situation.
“Stan, can I try something…?” The words made the other man abruptly stop his movements.
“Su-sure.” He laid down paralyzed, facing the opposite side of Anthony’s spot in the bed. A small gasp escaped his throat when the other man wrapped his arms around him, pressing his chest against Stanton’s back. It really did feel like he was young and inexperienced all over again.
“...Is that okay?” Anthony spoke with his signature approval-desiring worry. He could barely see Stanton’s expression from his point of view.
“Yeah. Y-yeah it is.” For the longest time the only ones to cuddle with him were trash bags or invasive clients. The arms wrapping around him were about enough to melt those memories away, keep him and his mind where he currently was.
Neither of them dared to speak after that. Stanton felt like this was some kind of divine retribution, despite the fact that most of his prayers involving Anthony mainly prayed for his downfall… But that was certainly not what he desired anymore. In fact, he didn’t know what he’d do if something happened to him now.
But the soft snoring behind him was enough of a reminder that nothing had happened. He closed his eyes, letting it soothe him into sleep like a lullaby.