Beneath the Ice: An Among Us Fanfiction

Chapter Eleven and a Half: Winger

Winger opened his eyes, and kept his gaze firmly on the ceiling of his quarters. Well, his and Sunset's, but since she died, it was... too empty. Not that it was that big to begin with, but every time he was in quarters, he found the newfound silence unnerving.

It was easier to put on his mask when he could simply pretend that she was working and that they'd see each other soon, maybe for a meal or after lights-out. Now, in times like this, the reality of their situation was too prominent, too lonely.

Where are you? Winger thought, closing their eyes and feeling tears leak out of them. Why did you have to go?

If there was anything more childish, it might have been this. But at that point, Winger didn't care how anyone would think of him. They didn't care for anything but the simple answer to an eternal question: where to people go when they die? And while he was at it, they might as well ask more questions: do the people who die even keep their loved ones in mind when they pass on? How do they even feel, do they care?

Honestly, though. Any answer, even an unsettling one, would be welcoming compared to the cold feeling of not mattering to anyone and just existing in a state of... being alone. Almost no one else could even imagine the pain, and how does one cope with losing someone so dear to them without knowing that others can share the same pain, and help?

It's not something that you go through alone. It's something that you grow from, yes, but you have help, and it's okay to ask for it when everything seems overwhelming, when the entire world seems to be against you.

Although, Winger admitted, there was only one other person who could understand his particular brand of pain. Maybe some others would emphasize with him, but they wouldn't understand. Not like they did.

If only his best friend hadn't died on that mission, then that would be another option for help.

Maybe therapy would also work. If, of course, Winger got out alive. Which they probably wouldn't. All of them would probably be in body bags before the month was up. And that was if they were lucky.

The parasites could always decide to ruin everyone's life earlier. Winger wouldn't be surprised if that happened, since apparently everything in his life was screwed up.

Parents: dead in a car crash...

Girlfriend: killed...

Sanity: out the window...

Literally the next thing that would happen would be getting ejected.

Just yeet, screw you and plop into the lava, apparently.

Yay.

Winger took a deep breath and started to get ready for the day, ignoring Sunset's side of the room. Their emotions were starting to numb over again and Winger had to try and fight to not fall into the rabbit hole that opened up after their parents were yeeted off of the bridge.

Sometimes, though... it was easier to shut it out. If you couldn't feel pain, then was it pain at all?

But then... you also couldn't really feel happiness, either. Winger honestly wasn't sure if he deserved it, though. To feel happy. So maybe feeling numb was better than feeling like he wanted to die.

It wasn't healthy, though. He probably would have to bring that up with his therapist when he got home.

If he got home. Ejection and death was always a not-so-appealing other option.

But then maybe, just maybe, they could see Sunset again. And would that really be such a bad thing?

Very bad! A little Sunset-voice in their head said. Winger, I died in an accident and that doesn't mean you don't continue living!

Winger didn't respond to the voice.

You stubborn little wasp! You have your whole life in front of you! Don't you dare throw that away! Someone is trying to reach out to help you! Do not push-

"You aren't real," Winger said quietly. "Stop harassing me. I know that my life isn't going to be what I thought it would be. And I've accepted that fact. The one true fact that says that I won't live past my thirtieth birthday. It's okay. It's okay..."

Winger broke down at that point, hugging themself and letting out violent sobs. It racked his body, causing him to curl up into a ball on the ground as tears flowed freely. Winger didn't care anymore. He didn't care for anything other than a simple answer from the universe.

Why them?

Not that he would have preferred for some other poor soul to suffer the same fate as he did, but just... why did it have to be so...

...Screwed up?