So... yeah, this was originally just going to be a nice little hurt/comfort fic... then I had to go and think up this monstrosity as an alternate ending. I scare myself sometimes.
Chapter Warnings: Character death, depression
***
Kissing his son on the forehead and pulling himself into a standing position, the pair left Pastel's room, shutting the door on the way out, and made their way back to the comfort of their own bedroom.
Once situated under the covers, Palette pulled Goth in close, giving him a light peck on the mouth, "Remember, we're both in this together to make sure something like your dream never happens. Even if, stars forbid, something happened to Pastel, I would never give up on you. You mean as much to me as he does. What you saw was only a bad dream..."
Curling into Palette's chest, a buzz of silence droned within his husband's chest, confusing the small skeleton.
Shouldn't I hear Palette's soul beats?
Goth opened his eye sockets to question the skeleton but was met with a horrifying cheshire grin spread across a shadowed face.
"... and you're never waking up!"
Goth reeled back, falling out of the sheets onto the floor. He scrambled away from the bed and the creature laying on it... only to see it was empty. Hastily picking himself up, he turned the sheets and pillows over, finding nothing there...
Absolutely nothing.
"Palette?" Goth breathed, searching the room frantically. His worry grew when he checked under the bed, behind the door, even throwing open the closet. Still, his husband was nowhere to be found. Running for the doorway, he dashed down the hall toward Pastel's room.
Palette must be in there, checking on Pastel again!
Throwing the door open, he was met with an eerie silence instead of soft music. Checking the bed, he only found a stuffed toy.
"Palette? Pastel?! Where are you?!?" Goth yelled in a panicked frenzy, running from room to room, slowly breaking down more with each failure to locate his family.
Arriving in the empty living room, he stopped dead in his tracks.
Two pictures sat on the mantel above the fireplace, surrounded by wilting flowers, cards, and various other trinkets.
Pictures of Palette and Pastel, set in black frames.
His eye light vanished as everything came back to him.
The family outing. The mugging. Waking in the hospital, only to realize he was the sole survivor of the attack. The funeral. The guilt. The therapy sessions... the voices and the medicine...
He now saw his delusions for what they really were.
I wasn't hugging Palette in our bedroom earlier... only a pillow. What I convinced myself was Pastel was merely a stuffed toy. They were never here. They're gone.
I'm alone... and it's all my fault.
A sadistic giggle echoed through Goth's skull as he crumpled to the floor, clutching himself as he screeched and howled in misery, his tears creating dark stains on the carpet.
The nightmare is real... and no matter how much you try to fool yourself, you'll never escape it.
***
Word Count: 477
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(Archived) Poth Short Stories and One-Shots
FanfictionA collection of short stories and one-shots centered around... you guessed it, Poth! May have bits of Afterdeath and Drink sprinkled in every so often. Expect drama, angst, fluff, silliness, puns... all that good stuff.
