curtwen oneshots

Don't leave me again pt 2

owen walked towards the back of the toy zone, unaware of curt behind him. a man with a red polo shirt greeted him at the door reading "employees only".

"good evening, sir. i was under the impression that Mr Wiley would be coming today." the man's smile was that of a customer service employee who sold his soul many years ago. greed. greed was what that smile was full of. Owen resented it. still, he remained standing with his indifferent expression. "your name?"

"not important." he answered. just a simple mission. help the gods, fight peip. easy. "you have the package?"

"yes, sir. right this way."

curt stood there, silent, already uneasy. Owen?-

what happened to him?

"i always love this time of year, dont you?" the obnoxious man chattered away. owen stayed silent. "so much money!"

"do you have the dolls or not, Pricley?" owen's voice was harsh.

"yes sir, all ready for tonight. all 200 of them. packaged and ready for the shelves."

"good."

curt stepped foward, looking into the box. it was full to the brim with strange green dolls. he felt his hand reach foward, unsure of what to make of these octopus-bear hybrids. as his ghostly hand reached down, voices could be heard outside of the store.

"its almost time!" the money man clasped his hands together.

owen just stood there, looking into the box, unaware of how curt was right there in front of him. searching his face for any type of answer he could get. but all he saw in owen's eyes were regret. a man who thinks no one is watching, and only then showed his emotions. a liar, but not the kind youd usually imagine. a man who lies about himself to make himself seem less weak, to hide how he had weaknesses. afraid of being hurt, of being exploited, of being used. a man trapped behind the mask he made for himself

frank left, taking many boxes from the big box, rushing so the doors could open.

owen looked up from the now empty box, the facade back. mumbling to no one in particular

"theyre here."

a man in a black beret and a secret service uniform marched in.

"Welcome, General. i was worried you wouldnt come! my dear friend has told me so much of you." owen spread out his arms, mocking the PEIP agents.

"This is General MacNamara, secret service PEI-"

"i know who you are, General. you really think" he laughed darkly.

"what if your name there." the beret man's voice was full of courage. owen's voice once had that courage to it. he despised that voice.

"wouldnt you like to know."

"hand over the dolls, son." owen only laughed at him

"'Son'? come on, John. how is your mother? i havent seen her in years." he smirked. "last i saw her, she was.... oh! thats right, the hospital. how'd that happen?"

curt looked from man to man, making the connection. PEIP. Cynthia Houston-MacNamara. the general stepped fowards, his hand drifting behind him, reaching for his gun.

"surrender the dolls now, son, and we can come up with an agreement."

"im afraid youre too late for that, 'son'." general macnamara froze as he heard the doors open, a mob rushing into the store.

"you son of a-" he raised the pistol suddenly, pointing it directly at owen.

curt didnt know what he was doing. he just ran at the gun, wanting to do anything, everything he could to protect owen. for a moment, his translucent body turned completely opaque, and he felt himself throw the gun out of the general's hand. they all stood there, stunned. owen was the most shocked of them all. that wasnt a hallucination- it couldnt have been-

the general picked up a walkie talkie quickly.

"we have a code ###, catch and contain."

curt's eyes widened, and he didnt know what to do.

so, he did what he always did.

he ran.

but this time, he grabbed owen's wrist, dragging him away, running. he could hear owen's confusedly being dragged along, and gunfire. dashing through the door, he was met with a mob of people, demanding dolls, quickly turning violent. running as fast as he could, he darted over the reckage, never letting go of owen. only stopping when they reached the almost abandoned cinema.

as soon as the cold grip released owen's wrist, he jumped back. his eyes darting around the room, seeing nothing. "who are you? what do you want?"

curt's sad eyes drifted to the jacket that was still on owen. he couldnt see him. he couldnt see him.

"O-" he found owen again. but he couldnt even see him. after all this time, the 7 years he had spent, wandering the earth, alone, and all the decades owen had been alone. and now. he hugged his icy cold body, he had gotten used to the cold. but now, he could have sworn he felt colder.

owen heard a faint whisper, and the air becoming colder. who was this person? why dd they save him? he was snapped out of his confusion as he saw the floor become covered in frost, as if they were footprints. whoever this person was, they were leaving. but owen wanted answers.

curt walked through the cinema, the building was not touched yet by the mob. it was quiet. calm. a perfect place to have a breakdown in. eventually he came across the small stage the cinema had added. they said "fuck clivesdale", and just tossed this in. it hadnt been used yet. curt snuck into the backstage area, curling up in one side room, half of one wall was covered with a mirror. he now stared at himself, he still wore the same shirt he had died in, and the jacket that owen had when he had died. it was the last thing he had of owen. until he saw the black and white, and died. now he sat there onn the floor, curled up, staring at himself in the mirror. his hair was a mess, his face had tears on it. raising his hand, he reached for the mirror, but, as soon as his fingers grazed it, the part of the mirror he touched froze over. hugging the jacket closer, he closed his eyes, trying to stop crying.

owen followed the frozen footprints silently. the invisible person walked far, until he entered a small community stage. it was completely abandoned, and he almost lost the footprints as he looked around. following, now farther behind, he watched the footprints dissapear into a small room. he shouldnt poke his head in.fuck it, hes a spy again.looking around the room, he didnt see anyone. untilhis eyes came across the mirror.

sitting there, reflected in the mirror, was Curt 

"Curt?-" curt's tear streaked face darted up, looking at owen.

 "O-" 

 "this cant be real, youre dead-" 

curt looked to and from the mirror. maybe, maybe. he could find a way to talk to owen. prove hes alive. 

standing up, he put his hand to the mirror 

please, anything. let him see me. even for a moment. i need to be able to talk to him 

a feminine voice called back

 "Curt Mega, follow my voice. bring Carvour with you. come into the mirror." the voice was comforting. warm. something about it felt familiar. so, he looked up, grabbing owen's wrist again, and running at the mirror.

as he ran at the mirror, it gave through, as if it were never a solid at all. he found himself in a white void-like expanse of nothingness. "CURT-" he felt owen's arms suddely wrap around him. "its you- youre here-" "O, you can see me?-" owen nodded, not letting go, fearing that the second he did, curt would be taken away again. wrapping his arms around owen, the two stood there, crying into each other's shoulders. together. but not for much longer