Word Count: 1629

Chapter 1/4

"Bring me home, before I lose it again and again and again…"

——

Life is fragile, I'm sure we can all agree.

George knew it firsthand. More than anyone thought they knew.

He told nobody, and never planned to. Because just like life was, secrets were fragile as well. Anybody could break them just as easily as you can rip apart a spider's web.

But he made the mistake of trusting someone, made the mistake of ripping apart his own secret. But who could blame him? Not you, not me.

It was just a simple mistake.

Gods were supposedly immortal. But George? Not completely.

His life was spun on an eternal thread, but once it is snipped, it ends. His thread was a flower, nothing special, only significant in the way it held a god's life in its red petals.

You'd look down at it and think, "This small thing? I pick these and put them in pots. I grow these in my garden."

You're right. I'll let you think that. But like I've said before, this flower was special.

It was eternal, as it should be. If it was picked though, as every flower would, it will slowly start to wilt, then finally die. George would feel every moment if that flower was cut from its soil.

He protected this flower as much as he should. He was able to hide the secret, just keeping this simple flower alive and well, hidden in soil and buried under mindless memories. Not even the gods knew. Not even his closest friends.

But, mistakes happen.

George was just taking a stroll, tired after a long, constant nap. He tried to stop it, because every time he falls asleep, more chaos happened to the world than he liked. His precious nature, gone to fire with the breeze.

He had mourned lost lives, both humans and green, because they were all the same. He's mourned many times, as he has lived many more eons, tiring as they were. He's witnessed this before, but the grief brought to him didn't change. It wasn't what we would experience in the future, though.

Again, he woke to destruction, his woods burned to a crisp, leaving only him in the embers. No humans to be found, no green. He had gotten up, looking over the horizon for where he stood, where there could perhaps be another safe place, another area to stay and remember before it was gone as well.

A journey, trekked many times before. Just different paths each time. Each one leading farther and farther from home.

His flower was still safe. It always was. Even after it had endured many burnings, it still stood. Perhaps it was the power it held that kept it alive.

George had dug it up, hands stained brown and covered with flecks of dirt. He picked up the flower, the roots curling lovingly around his fingers and keeping its hold. It knew it was time as well. It was like the flower and George shared a mind, and maybe they did.

Here he was, searching for anything that could lead him to fresh air, air that wasn't plagued with the scent of ash, the look of smoke still billowing from the ground. Stars just barely poked through the endless black clouds covering the sky. Not even light to guide George's footsteps.

If only it stayed that way, then he wouldn't have figured out more than he wanted to know.

He tripped over a lump, letting a small "oof" escape his lips. He caught himself just before he could have face - planted and have a face full of dust.

He looked down, and a desperate beam of moonlight hit the ground underneath him. His eyes widened.

He knew this person.

So he didn't sleep as long as he usually did. But that only made this feeling get more feral, darker, hungrier.

"No…" George gasped, kneeling over the poor body he had tripped over. He ran his free hand gently over the tattered red and black clothing of the person, tears pricking his vision.

The person didn't stir, the touch wasn't warm. Their eyes were glazed, distant, as if staring into everything, but they only stared into nothing. They used to know everything, even if the person who had them was as clueless as a ten year old.

Once green. Now just a dull shade of the once bright color.

George pressed his forehead against the person's. "Bad." He choked out. He was supposed to live forever. How did this happen? He was a god just like him.

Bad's fingers were clasped around that of another's, another George knew but didn't grow too close to. But Bad always sang praises of him whenever he and George met, when the world was greener. He would speak of days where he would meet the man late at night. He would speak of days where they explored the land. He even told him of the times he was trolled one too many times, but still he held a gentle fondness for the man.

Skeppy.

That's why Bad was dead. Because Skeppy was too.

"War is tragic, isn't it?" A voice whispered, weathered from tiredness and something much deeper. Something gods didn't usually show.

Grief.

George raised his head to meet gazes with the newer, who had perhaps been here since this tragedy, as they had phrased it.

"I'm sorry, Sapnap." George sighed, standing up and dusting his knees. Adjusting his cap. Sapnap just stared blankly at the two bodies. "If Skeppy had been more careful… or if Bad didn't have to go and protect him, he could've taken care of himself." Sapnap murmured, voice rough.

George let out a small, sad huff, carefully untangling the flower from his hand and placing it on his shoulder and out of the way.

Sapnap looked different than when he last saw him. Then again, so did Bad and Skeppy. Bad's smile lines looked deeper, but the small crease between his eyebrows looked more prominent as well. Skeppy looked leaner, more muscular, if he must say. War certainly has turned these two once peaceful.

Sapnap's hair was longer, pulled back in a half - hearted knot. The bandage around his forehead still showed pale against his skin, which heralded many scars. His hands looked tougher, more calloused, as they gripped the spear at his side.

"Skeppy shouldn't have gone to war. He was only mortal. Me and Bad could have handled it." George could practically see the spiraling gears turning in Sapnap's head. One second he was mad at Bad, next he was at Skeppy. Grief drove people mad. George knew, but this was different.

"He was your father." George whispered softly, placing a gentle hand on Sapnap's armoured shoulder. Sapnap winced slightly. "He's gone." He growled.

"Not even gods live forever." George replied. "It was definitely dangerous that he tied his life to a mortal's. Was it smart? Who knows. But he did it out of love."

"Does that mean he didn't love me?" Sapnap demanded, knocking George's hand away. "He didn't think about how I would feel when he died?"

"He did."

"How should you know? You just sleep, gods help me! You know nothing about this."

"I know."

Sapnap whipped around, fire starting to flicker from his fingertips. "You…" he started to hiss. He never finished.

George stepped forward, wrapping his arms around the smaller. Burrowing his face in his dark raven hair. Sapnap fell silent, returning the gesture and crying into George's shoulder.

"He did it because he loved." George repeated, voice tight with pain and withheld tears.

They stood over broken bodies, all gone, all gone, all gone. Sapnap's choking sobs filled the air, blocking out all other quiet sound. George just held him, letting him pour out his sorrow into the tired god.

Gods don't experience grief. They try not to. But when they do… it doesn't hurt any less.

When the sun finally came back, burning away all the smog plaguing the air, Sapnap let go, eyes red and puffy from crying. George could now see the light dusting of freckles along his cheeks, those now run over from tear streaks.

George smiled reassuringly. Death was hard. He knew that. "He will want you to move on. You know that, right?"

Sapnap nodded, sniffling in an almost childish manner. George rubbed a thumb under Sapnap's eye before standing up. "I need to go now, find a new home. I take it you will find yours as well?"

Sapnap stared up at him for a moment, mouth open like he wanted to say something. Maybe ask for him to stay, or to shoo him off. But he just closed it and nodded again, a small tug on the corner of his lips. "We will meet again soon, right?"

George wasn't sure who he was addressing in that sentence: Bad or George. So he just turned from Sapnap and walked away without another word. Sapnap didn't say anything else, and he could feel the smaller's gaze leave a small burning hole in his back.

He looked over his shoulder one last time, at the horrible war the humans had caused once again, this time his friends a part of the musical tragedy. Leaving behind a heartbroken boy, hanging on the words of a god who tried to stay away from pain such as this.

If only he could get Bad and Skeppy back, help Sapnap. Help himself, as much as he didn't want to admit it. He could finally feel a tiny singular tear slip down his cheek, releasing the emotion he had held in, one he tried not to share with Sapnap.

The flower bent a bit, like it too shared the sadness covering George's heart like a blanket. George sighed the slightest.

The last time he will see his friend.

"Goodbye." He whispered.

Goodbye. We shall meet again, someday in kingdom come…

And he turned again, to start the cycle over once more.