the second try (I)

THE VOID. There is no subtlety with the place, no bargaining. It's a memory that pierces like a shard of broken glass, right into him with unrelenting merciless cruelty. The static in his limbs and face fuzzle together in a near deafening buzzing in his head at the mere thought; let alone any nightmare connected to it. It's mostly why Rob doesn't sleep; he doesn't need it anymore, and he avoids it most of the time. The nightmares would bombard him with the same wretched feelings of loneliness, isolation and nothing. To be stranded there for who knows how long, only to realize he was forgotten hadn't been an easy process to overcome. Rob hadn't taken the time, honestly; too caught up with revenge against Gumball, the one indirectly at fault for his disfigurement. Doesn't matter the time, the place, the weather, or how mentally and physically tired he is. He doesn't sleep, he doesn't need it. The boy doesn't like to think of himself as anything other than a villain; sometimes that encompasses other things, and for a time, he had had been alright with it. Not exactly thrilled or sold, but alright. If that meant being able to take down a certain blue feline out of the picture so he could rise, so be it. If it meant he contributed something to this world so that he could be considered important enough not to be sent back to the Void, he would take it. He would be the bad guy.

But then it became complicated. Because not only did his annoying enemy have to fulfill his duty as the protagonist of his self-titled show and be a good and noble guy to Rob; not only did he have to take that extra step to prove him, the monster, the villain, the bad guy, wrong on all accounts; not only did he leave it be when Rob all but laid off of him, thinking he was doing him a favor of not actively trying to kill him. It was also the fact that the dumb kid wanted Rob as his nemesis. A stupid ingredient fed to his ego, he's sure; but it confuses him. It angers him. Why couldn't he just have left him alone when Rob had taken up Banana Joe as his new nemesis? Why did the stupid cat have to contradict himself left and right and drag his sorry behind into it? Despite appearances, Rob doesn't like that much drama. He likes simplicity; but Gumball is just… too much for his own good. Rob couldn't even make a new nemesis anymore; because nobody else, he found out, was as insufferable, annoying, and selfish as the Gumball Watterson. Not a single one. And that… that angers him. Gumball had squandered all and any chance for him to lead a somewhat normal villain life. Because even when he tried to get a new foe, it would all end up in the same thought cycle. Nobody ever matched; and Rob knew that he was forever cursed to a fate chasing after Gumball like a dog trying to catch his tail. Never ending and futile.

And for that, he hated his enemy a hundred times more, and then some. Forever. It was the kind of hate that physically burned into his chest, made him hunch over in agony and pain, made him want to sob, yet never quite being able to do so, because who would take that seriously? It's not like anyone cared about who Rob was before; nobody even remembered him. It made the boy extremely bitter, slathering him into more isolation and loneliness. What had even been the point of being nice and sociable when he had been normal? If given a second chance, would he even be nice anymore? The answer, unsurprisingly, is a firm resounding no that pounded into his head like a hammer. And Rob doesn't know why that leaves him with the feeling of disappointment pooling into his liver and guts, like a worm. That's not him anymore.

And so, when taking Internet hostage in his own home, Rob hadn't tried to be cordial or even a little nice, despite Rob having no real animosity towards the guy; it just wasn't in his nature to be nice anymore. At least, not genuinely. His plan was a failure, and no sooner did the audience shut off their screens, Rob hit the road faster than the speed of light. He hadn't even bothered to untie Internet, despite the yelling and annoyed protests; he didn't care, and he left with a slump to his shoulders because he was reminded that day that he had nowhere to go. No family, no real home where he'd be welcome with open arms. Nothing. Rob, the homeless teen and self-made villain of Elmore, was still a nobody. And nobody ever wants a nobody.

It's been a couple weeks since then. Perhaps a month, actually. Or two. The air is as sopping wet as his melancholic days tend to be; sad, like everything else he conjures up. "Jeeze; if this isn't a cliché," his distaste is clear against the droplets of water, hunching himself over like a feeble bean-strip. "Yeah, alright; and so the rain keeps on pouring, eh? Because I'm the villain and I'm always supposed to be darn sad, right?!" He cries to nobody in particular, and his glare is only met with a clap of booming thunder, illuminating nothing else but an alleyway up ahead. He has enough sense in him to at least roll his eye in the irony of this self awareness. He sighs, kicking the pavement with a disheartened foot, wallowing in his angst for a split second before speeding on, finding some shelter though an alleyway and right next to a trash can. Another clap of thunder roars in the sky, leading his gaze upwards and curling his mouth into a deep set frown. "Figures," he mumbles, "It just has to happen to me, right?" Still no answer, not from himself or the heavens or anything. "Stupid Gumball; this town would be far better off with me running it." It's the only way it could work, really, but despite the intensity of his loathe, he couldn't quite just end him.

It's too complicated.

Rob shuts his eye, nearly painfully, and nestles into himself more. A 3d disfigurement he may be, but he's still completely sentient. He breathes, he feels; and right now, he's freezing. The glitch in his jaw and the missing… piece on his torso do not help. "Why is this even happening today?" It had seemed that the rain and thunder had arbitrarily begun; to be honest, he hadn't been paying attention. He'd checked the weather forecast in passing; Elmore doesn't receive a lick of weather like this ever. It's all strange, peculiar. His hands grip his arms and, albeit reluctantly, he rests his head against the trash can, ignoring the screech of the cat that jumps out of it, and the overall discomfort. God this sucks. He technically had a place to crash; an abandoned warehouse just on the edge of Elmore, further down about two blocks from where he lays, but like heck if he's going to take a merry little walk in this daft and rain. He shuts his eye and shakes his head slightly, as if answering himself. He could wait; it's not like he would die of hypothermia, or something. The power of knowing and self awareness were tools that Rob used to the fullest extent.

The boy shuffles in place, wanting to accommodate his tush at least somewhat against the cold, wet, bumpy pavement. But no dice, not really, and yet he finds himself trying even more anyway. No position works, and he's already getting scratches on his thighs and legs because of his incessant movement. In the moment that he finds an okay spot to rest, namely, by resting his outstretched leg forward, it is lighting that illuminates the darkness, more so than the thunder before it, and the light lingers to the alleyway Rob sits in, clearing his vision downright from the metallic sheen of the trashcan, to the rats scuttling about, to the colorful body across a mere inches away from his toe.

...wait.

Wait, WHAT?!

"Hngh—!" Rob lurches forward and backward in a violent flinch, his body not knowing exactly where to start from the shock that overtakes him like a wave. He breathes fiercely, as if about to vomit, and he places one of his hands in front of his mouth, wanting to stop it if possible. His toe is already far tucked in under him, and the swing it had taken for his hand to move in front of his face had made his elbow collide harshly with the wall he rested against. "What the— what the what?!" There are far better words to illustrate his shock, but he knows it's a futile attempt to get past the censors. But it doesn't stop the roar of his heart, or the stifling fear of seeing a rotting corpse right in front of him! Rob can't even get up, the illumination having long past, but he knows the body is right there. He's too frightened, too frozen and rooted to the spot; he's petrified. Is that… is that truly a dead body?! Here in Elmore?! It just couldn't possible be! And yet, even the midst of the striking darkness that engulfs everything around him, he can make out the color blue if anything. Despite his bodily instincts screaming otherwise, his curiosity overpowers anything else, and he finds himself leaning forward, inching ever so slightly to try and get a better look in morbid fascination. His breath is being sucked out of him, reaching the tip of his throat; his eye squints and upon closer inspection, he can see… something multicolored too, barely, but very much there. "T-Tobias…?"

He doesn't why he expects, or rather wants an answer, a sound, a shuffle, something! But his mouth remains slack open, frozen in the aftermath of his former peer's name. He remembers his fleeting moments, however short, were… at least mildly pleasant, yes? It was neither here or there, but he never wished an ill will on him. He gulps in the realization; he can't picture willing anyone like this, ever. Not even Gumball, not even when Rob was driven by nothing but pure resentment. Trap him into the Void, yes, but this? Ridden in slime and grime, in rat feces and caked in dirt? His Adam's apple bobbing in near violent apprehension.

This can't be happening. This shouldn't be happening. It's not right!

Panic overtakes him in that moment, a wild moment of childish hope and just pure fear drive Rob forward. His body, previously frozen in fearful acceptance, now moves with shaking denial. He kneels forward, the disgust of the various smells now a petty and minimal thing in the back of his mind as his hands grab the darkened figure as he shakes them. He can feel the fluff of rainbow under his palms, his screens reacting accordingly, buzzing alive and multicolored. "Hey! Tobias! Man, wake up! Get up! This isn't funny!" his lip quivers, wanting to sob, but he suppresses it with a bite instead, panic temporarily fueling his short-lived determination. "Dude, you can't just— how did you even— why are you even… Think of your parents man!" Half sentences and nonsensical blurbs is all he can spill out; to comfort who, he doesn't know. His mind is racing a million times over, and he doesn't know what he's even doing anymore. Why Tobias? What's he even doing here!? Is this… is this a result of something to do with the Void? When did this take a turn to some cheap Creepypasta?!

But as if his panic filled thoughts summoned the answers from above, another flash of thunder illuminates the town all over again, and Rob sees in that moment that it is indeed not Tobias he's holding. His black pupil recedes back into a dot at the sight.

Oh.

This… this is a girl.

Rob almost drops her, but he catches himself mid-thought before his grip grows slack. If anything, they tighten and Oh… he knows this person. Like a sudden trigger memory, realizing he too had been corrupted by the Void's manipulation, Rob is flashed back to that one birthday party. He… he remembers; he remembers being invited by Tobias, and having heard that this was a more adult party and their whole class were invited. He remembers the stupid shenanigans they'd gotten into at said party, when Rob flashed his brain but for the world to see with the lamp. He remembers freaking Miss Simian and Mr. Brown crashing the party and making it cooler than it already was and— he realizes that just because he too was considered a mistake by their universe and its' rules, didn't mean that his own memories weren't tampered with. Who else had he forgotten? How many more did he forget even existed? He just… stays still for who knows how long, and then, like a domino effect, he comes to more, smaller realizations: for one, the smells that all but overwhelmed his nose (or well, lack thereof; he could still smell) were now moot, as a faint and subtle whiff of… strawberry sliced through. This led to the second most important thing to come: she's most definitely not dead. Rob isn't sure if the warmth that spreads throughout his fingertips and arms is a result of the adrenaline wearing thin, or the fact that he's only now realizing she's breathing, evident by her very soft rise of her chest felt by his hands. His heart freezes.

...oh.

After looking both ways, and despite the thunderous roar of his heart, ever so gently, more concerned with escaping the embarrassing hold he has on her, he tries to peel his hands away, resulting in a rubbing type of motion with her forearms and shoulders. But then there's a moment of clarity that defogs his mind and he blinks several times. "Wait, I can't— what am I doing?! I need to get us out of here!"

Everything in him absolutely stills when she shuffles in movement; his limps clamp up in their own accord and it takes everything in him not to even breathe. Her eyelashes flutter, like her eyes want to peel open. And her lips part gently, yet no words come out. Despite that though, Rob finds that he's leaning close just to hear what she has to say, eye looking on in fascination at this person. Who is she? Her name is on the tip of his tongue but he can't… remember. Just as quickly as her waking up came, it's gone, and the girl with the rainbow hair slumps back down in unconsciousness.

Rob's jaw clamps shut, and like a switch in his mind, he makes a firm decision. He tells himself it's not because he's a good guy; this just has to be done.

With initially unsure fingers curling to his palm a couple of times, he gently cradles her, and with his hunched form, scuttles through the rain, careful to see where he's going. Thankfully, she isn't deceivingly heavier than she looks, which makes her a breeze to carry like this. "Hang in there. I'm not going to have someone else forgotten on my watch." Even if it isn't him this time, he can't stand to relive this kind of torment all over again. "I'll remember you, once you remind me everything I need to know about you." No response from the rainbow haired girl; his entire chest is swelling with familiarity, and he's glad that he at least recognizes her. Had she been Tobias's cousin? Sibling? Gah, he can't remember! "I'm not a good guy; so don't go calling me it." He isn't. He doesn't know why he has to keep telling himself this, but he has to. He's not a good guy; this isn't being good. And yet, despite that, even someone like him can't take this; her barely breathing, her having to possibly realize that she's been gone for a very long time. Longer than him. The static of his 'face acne' buzzes vividly, bright against the stark darkness of the night. To be forgotten like this, and then dumped right back in a random, dirty alley like garbage. Was the Void truly this heartless and cruel? If he hadn't clung to life, would this too have been his fate? He shakes his head vigorously to be rid of the thought. Focus! Get this chick outta here! His long strides lead him to his 'pad' in no time; though he's physically cold and aching, his mind doesn't feel it. He has one goal here, and it's all that matters right now.

The warehouse isn't all that grand; the only thing that Rob ever did with it had been put on a spare, dirtied couch in the middle of it, and dump whatever garbage inventions and 'evil' stuff he conjured up. It served as more of a storage unit than anything. It's an old thing; thankfully abandoned and all but forgotten. Just like him. Just like them. The steps creak under him and in dramatic flair, he knocks the door open with a single, powerful kick, and hurries inside, laying her carefully on the old, ratted couch. The late night, motion sensor light kicks in; it's not a brilliance to brag about, barely illuminating the room. He almost apologizes out loud, suddenly embarrassed by his own 'house', but then realizes the silliness of speaking further to someone who's knocked unconscious. His eye roves over to her form, having a little more access to light. Yup, definitely related to Tobias; at that realization, his chest tightens in sympathizing emotion. How is she going to take this? He shuts his eye, trying to uncurl the clench of his jaw and fists, the static in his limbs whirring down in accordance to his forced relaxed state.

"I… I don't know what to do…" he confesses, as if that's enough to justify her freezing on his stink old couch. He has no blankets, no adequate first aid kits, no nothing. His gulp hurts, and is very loud against the walls of their enclosed space. With rising, out-of-character shyness and trepidation at this whole thing, Rob does the only thing that comes to mind; he settles himself in there, and after a beat or two, hesitantly grabs the girl's form and presses her against his chest. "Sorry… I don't… I don't even have towels..." his voice breaks at the last word, and he has to shut his eye to stop the annoying urge to cry. He can feel her breathing, however faint, much to his relief. "Please… please just hang in there. Don't… don't die on me." As if responding to him, her fingers twitch, causing Rob's own shaking fingers to linger on hers. "Don't take it the wrong way; I'm not going to do anything, I'm not a creep, and I'm not a good guy." His other hand clenches tightly, as if empowering the statement. "I'm not a good guy; I'm not the protagonist here." The girl makes no movement, and it leaves Rob feeling a bit empty. "I'm not the white knight in shining armor, here to rescue you. I'm just… not that much a bad person." What and who's he trying to convince, even he doesn't know the answer. After nearly an hour of feeling for her breathing and rubbing her arms to warm her up despite his own shivering, Rob lets himself succumb to sleep.

That night, he doesn't dream of the Void.

He dreams of Rachel's party.