Work Text:
There’s a crooked melody playing through the halls, echoing off the walls replacing all of Glisten’s thoughts.
A mournful rhyme, a biting line, somehow shifts to a soothing balm to his broken mind.
Step, step, step.
Listlessly, mindlessly Glisten feet glide among the ground, he does not run, he does not sprint but his fallen heart seems to race. His bow at waist drags and rips on jagged glass left abandoned, yet he does stop like he once would’ve done.
What does cloth matter when half of his face is gone? He has barely a mouth and no longer beauty but yet he still is forever moving.
It’s louder, beautifully closer, a familiar yet twisted tune. Wisps of relief fill his mind, how could he have ever lived without this audible light?
He should call out, share his plight and yet he finds his mouth locked down tight.
It’s no matter, he’ll make his way to a wonderful box full of chimes. Purple hues in his sight Glisten sighs feeling light.
Step, Step-, stomp, stomp.
No longer can he slow as his feet lift and sprint, for a single moment the ichor flow seems to slow, his heart meeting and dancing along to the gentle beat.
In reality it flows all the same but Glisten runs on, past his own doubts and shames, spurred on by the memories of a loving flame once shared.
His Lovely music is a pace away he wants to hold his face upon his palms. Feel the corner dig into his yellow skin and hear his heart chime on and on.
And finally, finally he makes his way,he almost trips as he comes to a stop. His partner doesn’t move, not at first at least. Glisten lifts a hand ripping though his ribbon at last, no reason to confide himself when it is just him and his box. His hand, gentle as could be, sets upon the side of Boxten’s face and finally his Melody turns around.
Once shy smiles and soft gaze now replaced by manic eyes and empty grins, and yet with the hollow line and the ichor like flailing hands, It’s glistens Love all the same.
Miraculously, lovingly, Boxten's smile seems to soften, losing edges and becoming gentler. And glisten knows he’s home at last.
So he let his broken ribbon fall and wrapped his tired arms around his Music’s chest. Broken face to broken face, staring into forever loving eyes.
“Boxten?’ Glisten scrapes past his tired tongue yet silence is all he gets in return. ‘Boxy?” Lovingly, fearfully he echos and their ichor bleeds and bleeds covering the tiled floor.
…
“gl..st.n” He barely speaks a final word. It means more than anything else could. This is their end both now and yet and yet this song they share fills the air and finally leaves the ache in Glisten's heart.
Left to rot, wonderfully together, chiming hearts and loving rhythms a forlorn song For their final grave as the floor seems to cave, deleted without a second thought.