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Roses– all he can see stumbling through a barren field are roses. The familiar scent of metallic stings his nostrils with every breath, accenting the air around him. Whispers of youth and childhood fill his ears as he recalls a distant memory of a young girl begging him to give a cornflower to her brother.
It was Becky's favorite. She had said.
Though when he looks up, all he sees is that oh so familiar blood-red.
His breath hitches as he stumbles drunkenly, knees buckling a second later and collapsing into the harsh grains of the earth. His hands land before him as he stares into the brown dirt. All Spoke could do is sob.
His black hair covers his vision while salty tears mix with his own spit fall into the dirt, turning it into mud. When he focuses a bit more on the liquid, all he can see is a reflection of a pink-haired girl with glittery eyes, full of death and betrayal staring emptily at him.
He winces, letting his eyes shut and dropping his face into his wrists, shutting the world out. Even in the darkness, he could still see blooms of blood red roses, dripping crimson from its petals. He immediately launches himself back onto his back, flinching as far away from that image.
Echoes of maniacal laughter clog the air, thick and loud, telling him how heartless he has become… how proud it is of him.
He jerks to the side and throws up all the contents he has remaining in his stomach, though it’s very little. An acidic after taste takes its toll on his tongue, making him gag. He coughs on a velvety texture that scratches at his throat. Spoke begins to choke, hands grasping at his chest as he attempts to hack out whatever is obstructing his airways.
He coughs and coughs until he sees a rose petal covered in his own blood fall into the mess of vomit and spit on the floor.
.
.
.
.
Spoke wakes up with a scream, shooting upright in his bed with pupils blown wide, his eyes almost entirely black.
“Spoke— Spoke” He barely hears through the ringing of his ears. Spoke looks up to see who is making that sound and sees that terrible crimson color. He flinches backwards away from the calls, curling into himself, repeatedly shaking his head.
“Leave me alone!” He cries out breathlessly, tears rolling down his scarred cheeks. Spoke presses his back into the bedframe, trying to hide as far away from the horror of his past that haunts him.
“Calm down–” The voice attempts to hush his woes, “Just breathe Spoke, nothing is going to hurt you— I promise.” The voice continues, trying to find a tone of comfort and reassurance though it just sounds panicked.
“Just-” Spoke rasps out, heaving, “Just stay back– don't get any closer” He squeals, half of his words barely even turned into sounds from his breathlessness.
“Spoke, you are going to pass out man–” The red figure reaches out to him, just a finger grazes his shoulder-
Red turned to purple as he looked up and saw that crazed grin of Ashswag, never quite meeting his eyes.
Spoke swings a fist at the figure, punching into hard bone.
It was then when he realized who the voice was,
Mapicc.
“Mapicc– oh shit– Mapicc! I'm so sorry—” He gasps. “I didn't mean to” He cries, reaching out towards Mapicc’s jaw, seeing mixed hues of red and blue beginning to take form on it. Mapicc just cradles the wound, and looks up at Spoke with a worried glance.
“I’m fine, don't worry, just breathe Spoke.” He speaks softly, though this time he doesn't reach out to comfort Spoke.
“I didn't mean to– I swear! I didn't mean–” He stumbles out panicked, trying to make it clear he didn't want to hit Mapicc.
“Spoke!” Mapicc shouts, breaking up Spoke’s spiral.
Spoke just looks up, hunching inwards, hands gripping his forearms tightly.
“Relax, I forgive you man.. I know it was an accident, just please calm down.” Mapicc asks desperately, “Just breathe, in and out, like this?” He didn't mean for it to sound like a question, but he exaggerates his own breathing so Spoke can follow it.
They sit on the bed, while quiet breaths fill the room. Spoke just stares at Mapicc and Mapicc just hides the bruise forming, in an attempt to keep Spoke from panicking again.
As time passes, Spoke crying comes to a stop and his breathing goes from erratic to slightly elevated. Mapicc takes this chance,
“What happened?” Mapicc asks softly. Spoke tenses slightly at the question.
“I think I just had a nightmare” Spoke mutters out embarrassed.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Mapicc tilts his head at Spoke, who is leaning against the bed frame still.
“Not really.” Spoke answers, tilting his head to match Mapicc. He brings his hands up to wipe away the wetness on his cheek. Mapicc just hums at his response, allowing it.
“Do you want to try to go back to sleep? It’s still pretty early..” Mapicc mumbles out, yawning.
Spoke ignores the question, instead asking on his own, “Is your mouth okay?” He whispers.
“I’ve gotten a lot worse, Spoke, a measly punch of yours ain't going to hurt me.” Mapicc attempts at a joke, a smile finding its way on his lips.
“My punches are not measly!” Spoke barks out indignantly, finally resembling a character Mapicc is more familiar with.
Mapicc giggles at his defensiveness.
“Whatever you say, Spoke..” He teases, “I want to go back to sleep, personally” He adds, already moving to get under the sheets next to Spoke, carefully avoiding touching him still.
“Awwww.. is Mapicc sleepy?” Spoke coos mockingly, trying to move past his previous point of vulnerability quickly.
“Yes, I fucking am, and so are you. So shut up and go to sleep, Spoke.” Mapicc huffs out, turning over to face the wall. Almost on cue, Spoke yawns as well. He slides back under the sheets and turns away from Mapicc to stare at the wall.
He was still a bit nervous to go back to sleep, back to seeing her face. Spoke peers upwards towards the rose Becky gifted him awhile back, sitting on the window seal, glowing in the moonlight. A constant reminder of how he took away a daughter, a sister.
Spoke shivers.
He will make it up to them, Spoke swears to himself. He’ll do it by any means necessary— no matter the costs, anything to make it up to her, to make up for his foolish and naive decisions.
He closes his eyes again to see dreams of roses, curly pink hair, and most importantly blood.