Chapter 1:
This time he had lived. The sound of his hesitant, grinding footsteps could still be heard. His tiny, timid laugh still rang out to all ears around. He still could hug you, talk to you, kiss you.
He could still hide from you.
He's hiding now. Afraid, so very afraid of what his dear beloved Gamzee has become. A monster. A bloodsick, haunting, frightening monster. In the back of your head you know what you are, know what horrible things you've done. But the fucking voices that rampage through your fragile, damaged mind keep you from fully comprehending. Keep you from hurting so fucking badly about what you fucked up this time. The trolls in your session call you a shitty brain-damaged failure of a troll. It used to seep into one ear and fly right back out the other.
Not anymore.
If the voices are right about anything, it's the fact that they needed to be proven wrong about you. They needed to be shown just how powerful and good you could be.
Could've been.
Won't be.
Instead you went motherfucking ballistic and preyed upon the people you used to care about. The voices of the messiahs whisper in your thinkpan, clawing your concious to get out, almost like that cat girl's claws had raked your face into a scarred mess, the indigo throbbing from the scratches with every undeserved heartbeat.
What was her name again?
You should remember.
You just can't bother yourself to.
Now you look for the others, look for some more colors that can express the RAGE you have, the rage you paint onto the drab grey walls of the Veil.
You can feel your eyes stretching past the physical limit as they widen in search of a new thrill, a much more satisfying hunt and slaughter that plays over and over in your mind. Blue, green, colors, laughter, screams, pleading, hurting, burning, choking, gasping, shaking, crying, dying. Your mind won't let you forget.
Footsteps.
You quickly swing around, a smile stretching literally from ear to ear. The scratches have cut the side of your mouth, and the flesh and skin tears to enable the sickening grin. It rips, blood cascades down, the sound of the seperation would make any sane troll cringe. But you barely feel it. Just a slight tingle, a slight twitch in your unpossibly stretched eyes.
Your pupils grow larger, they catch the flicker of the light that bounces off metal legs. They catch the terror in those light brown eyes. They catch the melody of yellow and orange mingled on those too-large horns. They catch the way the troll falls to the ground, his knees hitting the ground with a clank.
Your eyes take in the tears that have filled his to the brim and have spilled over, creating a steady flowing river down those brown-flushed cheeks.
Brown.
Brown.
Brown.
A color you are missing.
A color you want so badly.
A color you wish to drown yourself in so it will a part of you forever.
A color you will NEVER take.
He stares at you, never taking his eyes off your face even as he crawls to your feet.
"Gamzee. Gamzee!"
He repeats your name a billion times, his sweet, faltering voice ringing through your ears. You can barely make out his words, he chokes on his lack of air, he stutters every syllable, screams every breath away. His eyes become dead as they stare up at what is left of you. He continues to cry, pitifully sobbing, his face turning blue from lack of oxygen, but he never stops looking at you. He reaches your legs, and he fists the bottom of your pants.
He clings to you like his life depends on it, like you are the only thing he has ever, ever had.
Like he is lost.
Your smile slowly fades. You quietly sink down onto his level, grabbing his collar and pulling him as close to you as you can.
He is lying in your lap now, his face awkwardly squished against yours.
His shaking hands are on your chest now and he tries to struggle backwards a bit, but he isn't strong enough. He struggles, you stare.
You are expressionless, gazing at his muddled face.
He screams at first, but soon resumes his insisent pleading.
"G-gamzee, please, please. PLEASE."
He repeats 'please' again and again. His perfect voice is now just a raw screech. You feel it as he twists his body to the side to cough up blood. He hacks until he finally just stops breathing for a moment. His head hangs limply, eyes simply staring at the blood on the floor.
He stops struggling.
Stops all movement and falls into your arms.
The blood from his mouth smears all over the front of your shirt. His hands fall limply from your shirt. You grab his chin and force him to look at you. His eyes are wide, staring at nothing, his lips are moving robotically but his face shows no emotion. You would think he was dead if his frantic heartbeat wasn't pounding away near your ribcage. You can't hear what he is saying. So, you lean your ear down to his trembling, bloody lips.
"gamzee, i love you please stop."
He repeats this over and over, the blood bubbling between his pale lips. You slowly lift your head when those words sink in. Without you feeling it, tears start to pour down your face. Before you know it, they are running down your neck, and pooling in the slim space between you both. Everything is tears now. His unseeing eyes continue to leak and so do yours.
Oh gog.
What the fuck have you done.