Work Text:
The castle still remembered Mapicc.
Parts of him lingered in the untouched mugs on the table, that red jacket draped over a desk chair, books from their adventures with the corner of their pages folded, yet to never be read beyond that again. Dust had settled where his warm laughter used to be. A strange emptiness had lurched in Spoke's heart when he thought of home, with Mapicc and their castle they had spent so long building.
He wanted so hard to forget him.
To move on.
To make it seem like nothing had ever happened.
To tell himself he was fine.
But, he couldn't bring himself to forget Mapicc as much as he tried. He saw Mapicc in everything. And it hurt him so much.
When he messed around, he'd look around to see the boy laughing, to be met with nothing.
When he went through his shulkers, he found George Juniors' one. He nervously looked around, to check if Mapicc was around.
He wasn't.
When he found something hilarious, he'd think of telling him, watching his face light up as they both giggled.
He had no more Mapicc to tell.
Spoke was alone.
There would never be another message from Mapicc on his communicator, telling him he'd be back soon. No more horrible jokes at midnight. No more random memes he'd laugh about and share with Spoke.
Just the heavy silence weighing down on him.
Sometimes, he'd hear a familiar laugh in the crowd. He'd turn around only to find a stranger.
Sometimes, he'd see that painfully familiar flash of red somewhere.
Every now and then, he'd see poppies in a field, and he'd think of him. A vibrant, loud red.
The times he'd catch himself saying, "He'd love this." to himself under his breath.
His grief was quiet, sad and slow, a soft, constant ache tucked away.
He thought the worst part was the day he lost him.
The worst was living through his days, without him.
Everywhere he looked, there would be some part of Mapicc.
But he couldn't catch him now.