𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚜

i'm pulling at the roots to tear you off me [k.l]

imagine writing a karlunz vent fic ahah..... couldnt b me.
and thats on punz brainrot

anyways if this makes u uncomfty pls dont read. its just a vent so. ofc im not. trying to imagine what they have or spreading "false information" this is just me projecting onto him bc i need to get feelings out and cant in a normal way. ty <33

fic title from ;; long time friends by the living tombstone.

cw/tw ;; implied/referenced suicide, vague mentions of not eating, self-hatred + self-depreciating thoughts, break ups, smoking, coughing up blood. if theres any i missed, lmk.

pairing ;; karlunz [karl jacobs + luke/punz]

prompt; karl leaves and luke is left to deal with the aftermath.

final word count; 1k

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

luke hates feeling like this.

like he's fucked up, why he's the reason his friends get upset and ghost him without saying, like he's worthless and stupid and should take himself out of the picture already. he puts his trust in someone, only for them to use him and move on before he can even register what's happened, and he knows it's not healthy. does he care?

no.

luke is self destructive; a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at any minute, but surpressing the urge to so so, burying it underneath his skin to help others with their bearings before he helps himself.

that day never comes. luke pushes his own needs away, his own interests, to sit and listen, and maybe it's toxic to himself and his friends, to romantic partners, but that's what he is.

toxic.

a snake, if you will.

luke is doomed to fail, doomed to fall and not survive the drop, doomed to lose the trust and respect of all his friends and loved ones because he cannot keep himself together, doomed to sit and watch helplessly as all his friends leave him, just as karl left him. it's his fault they leave. they all do, it's inevitable.

grey smoke curls delicately from his mouth as he exhales, flicking the cigarette and watching the ashes be whisked away by the wind. luke wishes he had better friends, better coping mechanisms, but it isn't meant to be. it was never meant to be. luke is broken, defective and replaceable, inexpensive. he's not meant for greater things.

the railings underneath his legs are cold. one of his hands grips it tightly, the other holds his cigarette up to his mouth, taking a deep drag through shaky breaths and raindrop tears that slip down his face without his consent.

he's so high up it gives him vertigo. his throat burns with the forceful inhalation of nicotine, mouth tasting stale and of the same substance. zephyrus's winds run their hands through luke's hair, slapping him in the face, ruffling every inch of himself he'd once thought of as perfect.

he knows. it was irrational to think so, because no one is perfect. even though there are rare moments where you feel as if you are, you aren't. maybe that's why fucking up hurts him so much - luke prides himself on striving to be the best, so much that the littlest inkling of upsetting someone sets him back.

he exhales deeply and takes another drag, the smoke burning the back of his throat in a way that makes him want to throw up. he hates the way he craves more of the pain, something to remind himself that he is human, and although it's unhealthy, it's the only other coping mechanism he has.

he coughs on another inhale in, doubling over in pain as it just makes his esophagus ache more. smoke mixed in with bitterly cold air makes a poisonous cocktail in luke's mouth that chokes him, leaving the lingering taste of battery acid behind that makes him want to vomit. unfortunately, he can't - his stomach is completely empty, he can't quite remember the last time he's eaten anything, but he's not hungry.

he's unhealthy. the only time he leaves his bed is to go to the rooftop and contemplate giving up, imagining the feeling of being free of this fucking shitty life, helping others be free of the burden he puts on their shoulders, and it's helped. he knows what he has to do now. there is one step between him and the blissfulness that could come with removing himself from existence. it'll be better for everyone if he did, anyway, so what's the point in staying?

he is desolate. he wishes he weren't, wishes he could function normally, but this is normal for him now.

and oh, he wishes it weren't normal. there are so many people that look up to him in ways he doesn't understand, and with him gone, he doesn't know what they would do, what they would think. would they call him weak? would they retract their support because he'd struggled with stuff?

it's happened before, after all. not the first time, but definitely the last time it will.

if only karl were here, he thinks with a wry smile. it's not karl's job to carry the burden of helping luke, so it doesn't really matter, but at least luke would have been able to say goodbye.

more coughing. he covers his mouth with his hand and when he pulls it away, small pools of mortal red drip between the cracks of his fingers.

oh. that's not healthy, either.

he crushes his cigarette on the railing and kicks his feet against the metal rails, blood escaping from his mouth whenever he coughs. droplets soil his pants, congealing in his palm, and god, he's been like this for so long that it's hard, almost impossible, even, to help himself. being with karl helped, it helped so much, but he couldn't help karl as much as karl helped him. their whole relationship was doomed from the start.

even though there was no formal breakup, the argument had been enough to seal the deal. karl wants absolutely nothing to do with him now, and he blames no one but himself. his head aches. he misses his friends, misses karl, he misses them.

maybe karl leaving was his breaking point.

he's so high up, it gives him vertigo.

he remembers being afraid at first, sickly green infecting his bloodstream and grasping his intestines, but as he looks down, he feels peace. he leans forward, dropping one hand from the railing, the wind slapping him in the face and pressing against his chest, as if it's trying to push him back.

he fights it, though, pushing himself into a standing position, feet shoved into the spaces between the railings. fear bleeds away into serenity, and without a thought, he leans forward and lets go.

luke feels fear for the very last time.