Work Text:
his friends were resting but he just... couldnt.
not like before.
he stopped himself from almost ripping out a patch of grass. what is wrong with you. the grass didnt even do anything.
it stared back at him, a perfect reflection.
...if it ever was one, it isnt now.
its weird how one decision can change everything.
he ruined it, and yet, he looks the same.
...he deserves to look ruined too.
.
walking around the trees made him feel even worse, he didnt end up going that far in the end.
slow.
slow at running.
slow at understanding challenges.
slow at finding the right thing to do or say.
slow at realising, over and over again.
.
did it really take you that much time to realise that shes not gonna change?
every single day is a gamble, and he was tired of hoping for a change.
was this some twisted sort of loyalty? her way of being constant in her inconsistent actions? she always seems so happy to see her enemies... other than when hes her friend, thats the happiest she gets.
that sounds wrong.
its always what she decides. why does he trust someone who could snap to the opposite side in a matter of seconds?
.
he was slow to realise, and of course in the worst moment possible. the air felt suffocating and the boat felt too small. a prison of a choice he cannot escape.
in the moment, it all felt right, like he finally woke up from the slow motion he was living in.
...maybe being enemies at all times would be better than waiting for the next betrayal.
he placed the shell out of the bag.
.
trying to be as quiet as possible, he slowly tugged on one of his leaflets, and looked away.
he heard a rip, but it stung only a little... he must be getting used to pain from the challenges.
he looked up at the trees that somewhat resembled his silhouette, painted on the ground by the rays of the setting sun.
...a piece of his shadow was missing.
this time, he grabbed a bigger leaflet and ripped quickly. he pressed his hand to the side of his head that was now missing blades.
he ruined it.
the chlorophyll from the ripped parts of himself stained his other hand green, as he squeezed it between his fingers.
both of his hands slowly dropped to the ground. he didnt know how to feel.
.
the last challenge was so much fun. maybe he could keep friends after all!! maybe it wouldnt have to be like a switch.
he helped sticker, just like he could have helped toothpaste, and they ended up talking the whole evening! ...right before the-
he glanced down at his hands again.
...chlorophyll happened.
right, he didnt really want his friends to see that, and the recovery centers were here for a reason so he should probably just-
yeah.
.
his head hurt but he managed to make it to the shore. it was pretty impossible to not immediatelly gaze at the hellish "dream island" they were battling for.
he has to win because... no one deserves to be on that island.
he remembered what sticker had asked him earlier this evening, "do you really not have a single enemy? what about-"
...if she won, who knows who will end up on the island just because toothpaste decides that theyre her enemy at that exact moment.
he did the right thing.
...but somehow, he still considered toothpaste his best friend.
.
hes manipulated easily. just like the trees by the wind. itll end up the same with everyone, wont it?
sigh, overthinking is just avoiding the inevitable.
he frowned at his reflection in the water, before walking in, not holding his breath.