Poth Short Stories and One-Shots

At the End of It All: Chapter 3

Chapter Warnings: Depression, referenced/implied character death(s)

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It was quiet... something Goth had grown all too used to in his loneliness, but rather than the usual hollow melancholy, it now left him with a sense of peace. His body still longed for a reprieve, but none of the pain from before seemed to be present. 

Was this what death was like; a tranquil calm after the brutal storm? If so, it was a welcome sensation after being worn down for so long.

His sockets were closed, but he had no interest in opening them; as long as he kept them shut, he could block everything else out and continue basking in this serenity. He heard something in the distance, but he was content to let it pass him by so he could savor the moment while he had it. The sound drew closer, accompanied shortly after by the soft popping of old bones, a hand on his shoulder, and a careful question, "... Goth?" Reluctantly opening his sockets, he found two concerned skeletons kneeling down next to him.

He was tempted to close his sockets again; instead, he slowly eased himself into a sitting position to meet them, mustering a tired smile, "Hey mom, hey dad... long time no see."

He felt a bit guilty that he couldn't seem to work up a stronger reaction to his long-lost parent's appearance, but they didn't seem to mind as Geno pulled him into a hug. He let himself fall into the gentle embrace, burying his face into the white fabric of their jacket as he heard his mom murmur, "Oh my poor sweet baby, I missed you so much."

Goth merely hummed in agreement as Reaper took a seat next to them, "I'm sorry we had to leave ya like we did; I hope ya can forgive us."

The apology brought back memories of the attack that separated them and their last moments together. While warding off a group of robbers, Geno was injured and a swarm of undead had been attracted by the commotion. Seeing their inevitable loss and being unable to abandon his husband, Reaper had urged Palette to take Goth and find Dream, who was out searching for supplies; he would give them a chance to escape and catch up with them later. 

They never found the other parent and returning to his home two days later when the pair never showed only yielded a gutted home, decaying bodies, and scattered dust; seeing them now only confirmed their fate.

A dull ache throbbed in Goth's ribcage as he reached up to latch onto his mom, "It wasn't your fault. Crap happens... but I got used to it..." Geno's grip tightened, seemingly distressed by the admittance.

"Seems like a lot of 'crap' happened to ya while we were gone, kiddo," Reaper sighed, reaching out to ruffle Goth's hood.

"Yeah...," The younger monster confirmed blandly, not wishing to delve further in favor of reveling in the simple gestures he hadn't realized he missed until now. He glanced down at his now-unbitten radius, noting that his mom didn't appear to have any marks either; even the long scar on their chest was missing and the usual melted pixelation around their left socket was replaced with a solid socket and eye light. Did that mean injuries from the living world didn't transfer over to the afterlife? He still couldn't see from his right socket, so genetic defects must not count.

From the previous question, another sprung to mind, "Wait, why are you both still here? This is limbo; the space between life and death, right? Don't spirits usually pass on shortly after they die?"

"We wanted to wait for you," Geno responded, massaging circles into Goth's shoulder blade, "I didn't like the idea of you being alone in the end and Reaper agreed with me."

The former god grinned, "Yup, I had a talk with the big guy upstairs; I figured he owed me after a few hundred centuries of service, and he gave the three of us permission to hang around until ya got here as a severance gift."