WOW GUYS I AM SO SORRY. I've had these up on tumblr for ages...and completely forgot to put them over here. For months. I have no excuse except that I am a forgetful little fuzzball.
WITHOUT FURTHER ADO. HERE WE GO. LAST TWO CHAPTERS. THE STORY, SHE IS FINISHED.
The fall doesn't last as long as you expect it to. There's a brief moment where you feel like you're floating, and then you're surrounded by thorns. The moment one of them touches you, they all reach out and grab you. They latch on to your limbs, your chest, your throat - they feel like they're everywhere, pulling you under, drowning you. You try desperately to claw them away from your face and your neck, but your arms are pinned, you can't move, can't breathe all over again -
And the whole fucking world lurches, hard, like someone fucking shoved you from behind. And before you're ready for it, it happens again, and again, repeatedly, turning into an uncomfortable, jerking rhythm. For a second you're sure that this is it, somehow despite everything that happened, you lost...
But...somehow...it doesn't seem so bad, on second thought.
Wait, what? That's fucking stupid, this is horrible, why would you think it's not so bad - and that's when you realize that it's not just you who weren't ready for this lurching movement. All around you, the grip of the thorns on you is lessening. Your skin is getting all kinds of scratched up, but you're also getting free. As soon as this occurs to you, you rip one of your hands free and start wrenching the vines away from your neck, trying to gasp for breath, just as the world jerks forward one last, impossibly hard time, and holy shit you can't stop coughing and hacking and it feels like someone shoved an entire fucking mace and chain down your throat. Why. Why can the fucking world not just leave you the hell alone.
You're vaguely aware of some sort of background noise, and the feeling that something is touching you, and thank god it's too gentle to be thorns this time, but you really can't pay much attention to anything that isn't the giant, burning lump of fuck you that's currently attempting to travel through your throat the wrong fucking way.
Somehow, your burning lungs manage to force whatever is stuck out, and not a moment too soon. You spit whatever the fuck it is out, and gasp, straining for air. The world is spinning, and everything is dark, but for just a moment, you manage to take in one sweet breath...And then start coughing again. You sink back into pain and airlessness as what feels like a piece of your goddamned throat decides to rip away and lodge itself in your windpipe. This time, despite how fucking tired you are, you manage to get the new shit up faster, and get another breath in before something else gets stuck. At some point, the jerking motion comes back, only this time you recognize it as someone hitting you repeatedly on the back. Yeah, it hurts, but it helps get the little balls of misery out of your chest faster, and those hurt a hell of a lot more, so you're just going to forgive whoever that is for now.
After what must have been at least a century of pain, it finally stops. You fall backwards, against something both soft and firm. For a while, you just breathe. Breathing is good. Breathing is really, really good. Oh god wow that was terrifying.
Bit by bit, the world starts to come back to you. You're someplace warm, and your skin feels hot. There's this sort of puttering noise in the background, which is weird. You feel like there's someone hovering close by, and in the same moment you become aware of this, you notice that the something you're leaning on is probably a someone. You can feel their heartbeat, and the rise and fall of your chest.
You also notice at this point that you don't seem to be in the immediate vicinity of any rough rocks or thorns at the moment. In fact, you seem to be seated on something soft.
That's definitely an improvement.
You're about to just...let yourself drift off again, and go back to sleep, but something hits your face. It feels like rain, almost, but there's not enough of it to really be rain. That's...weird. As tired as you are, for some fucking reason you open your eyes. It should not take that much effort to just force your eyelids open, but you do it anyway. Everything spins and blurs at first. You look up, trying to make out whoever is holding you. It takes a few moments, during which a little bit more water splashes onto your face, before the vague, blurry image sharpens into something you've honestly never seen before.
Your brow furrows as you look up at Gamzee. Every muscle aches, but you somehow find the strength to reach up and gently run a finger over the drop of moisture that looks so out of place on his cheek. And out of fucking nowhere, the biggest sob you have ever heard tears its way out of his throat, and he pulls you in tight against him, crying into your neck, and holy fuck this has never happened before what the fuck are you supposed to do.
You reach up hesitantly, and pat the top of his head, because your throat still hurts too bad to talk and you have no goddamned idea what you are supposed to do in this situation. Nothing has ever reduced Gamzee to this. Not getting bullied his entire life, not dealing with a divorce and a dad who didn't pay nearly enough attention to him, nothing. No matter what happened, he's always had the same big, doofy smile. Well, except for some times when he was trying to quit the drugs, but that was always anger, never...this!
You hear him gasp out something that sounds a lot like an apology, and you have to think for a moment about why that sounds so dumb to you. There's no point to him apologizing. You forgave him already, didn't you?
It takes him a few minutes, but he finally calms down, and loosens his grip. He breathes hard for a few minutes, then hastily wipes the tears out of his eyes, muttering a few "motherfucks" as he does. He hesitates for a moment, it seems, and then slowly glances at you. You meet his eyes, and try to smile at least, so he knows you aren't mad, but you're pretty fucking sure you don't do a very good job of it, judging by the confusion in his eyes as he looks back.
Aside from the puttering sound in the background - what is that, anyway - and the sound of three people breathing, the room is completely silent. You want to tell him that he doesn't have to worry, you aren't mad, but the words won't come. And you sort of feel like you don't have to, either. The silence around you isn't the horrible, soundless vacuum that makes everyone suddenly burst into spontaneous conversations about the weather. It's comfortable, like a warm blanket. It's not a silence of emptiness, it's filled up with the words that nobody needs to say anymore, and emotions that cannot and should not be chained to mere words.
It's really nice, actually.
So of course, because this is your life, it can't fucking last. With a great whirring noise, the dark room lights up, shifting from a deep bluish black to the room's normal, indigo and violet theme. You finally notice John standing back, in the corner. Wait, shit, was he here the whole time? Fuck.
You don't really have time to be embarrassed about it, though, because Gamzee immediately starts cackling right next to your ear.
"The h-hell is so funny?" you manage to wheeze out. You're shocked by how strained and weak your own voice is.
Gamzee just shakes his head, and grins at you. "Figures the power would come back on now," he says. You raise an eyebrow at him. He just laughs again and pulls you in tighter. And it's not like you like being coddled like this or anything, but you're too fucking tired to do anything about it, and besides, you're kind of glad he's still here. Really glad, to be honest.
Exhaustion hits you like a fucking train. A yawn just about splits your face in half, and Gamzee notices right away. He rests his hand on your forehead, and you don't really notice yourself leaning into his cool touch until you almost fall forward when he takes his hand away. He laughs again.
"You need another motherfuckin nap, bro?" His eyes are gentle when he asks. You nod, too tired to try speaking again. "I'll be right here if you need anything," he comments, and then scoots over, letting you surround yourself in the covers again. Somehow, you just know that you won't get sent back to the place where you were trapped, and even if you do, you've got help on the outside, ready to pull you back at a moment's notice. You're safe.
With that in mind, you close your eyes.