Personal Sacrifice
Chapter. 7
Everything after is a blur.
They go home on unsteady feet, the sun rising slowly in the distance. It takes what seems like forever, but it's nothing to the sight of their family, warm hugs and words of affirmation, the squeals of their little brother as he runs out to greet them with no regard to his own health, yelling from their father that does nothing to conceal his worry, relief, guilt. Kirby sinks deep into it all, Gooey at his side, and feels at peace. Just for a moment.
Of course they both go to a hospital, and neither of them care to argue about it, both dead on their metaphorical feet. Ironically, it's Kirby who apparently has sustained the most wounds, so it's he who gets the special treatment, practically bound to his bed while Gooey is allowed a bit more free reign. They're put in the same room, of course, because Kirby refuses anything else and it's the easiest way to keep him resting.
There, alone with Gooey, so present but so quiet, there's nothing to keep his mind from starting to settle and starting to ruminate. Thinking about everything that happened, everything that went wrong.
It doesn't take much mental prodding from Gooey for his mouth to let it all out.
"I missed you so much Gooey," He says, and it flows like water from his mouth, so much easier than speaking to his parents would ever be, "I couldn't fathom you not being there. I had to go get you. I...couldn't comprehend you not being there. You know?"
He licks his lips, staring up at the ceiling, through it, into nothing. "When I felt you fade, when you...left...I couldn't cope. And I still can't. Thinking about it...I don't want to experience that ever again. It-It's like a part of me /died/ when you went, and I..."
Kirby swallows, terrifying thoughts in his mind, on his tongue, but he can't stop now that he's going. "What if that thing comes back, Gooey? What if he tries again? What if I'm not /strong/ enough this time? I-- He almost killed me, I know it. He could do it, I know he could. I can't imagine him taking you again, Gooey. What if it happens? I..."
Gooey shifts his bed silently and Kirby senses more than sees the way he leaves it and flutters over, slowly but surely. He doesn't realize he's actually shaking until a familiar cool warmth envelops him where Gooey is leaning to rest against his figure in as good a hug as he can provide. Feeling flood through him, impressions not his own, of safety, warmth, love, reassurance. It's okay, he knows Gooey is saying. Determination, hard as iron. They won't be separated again.
Kirby can't help reaching up to return the gesture, even as he starts to sniffle and feel his eyes sting.
It will be hard for him. For them both, to recover from the ordeal. Kirby, as his body adjusts to a new kind of post-traumatic stress, weeks passing plagued by nightmares that have him screaming, weeks that come in the form of sleepless nights and moody days when insomnia and catastrophic thoughts force him to lay awake at night, unblinking.
Dreams and thoughts of Gooey, dead and dying in his arms. Of Sub Zero, making his return and exactly his revenge. Kirby's metaphorical heart torn from his chest and smashed on the ground. Gooey, gone, always gone.
But Gooey is always there, every time he needs him, no matter what. Every nightmare, every whisper of panicked thought. Always there to cuddle and comfort, to breathe with him when terrified breathing turns to hyperventilation. Encouraging him to seek help, in whatever way he can.
Helps that comes in the form of Atticus. One tentative phone call brings medicine made from plants that help to soothe those thoughts, at least dampen them and the nightmares. A wonderful aid from someone he looks up to dearly, and a good reprieve for Gooey who, he thinks guiltily, hasn't had much sleep since they came home.
Kirby has no idea if he'll ever truly be okay. Sub Zero still lingers on his mind, and no matter how well he feels, the memory of Gooey's body in his arms will never fade. Not ever.
Even as they grow, even as the years pass and their strength can only increase, even as Gooey tells him the monster can't be sensed and likely succumbed to its injuries. The thought lingers.
They'll fight it together, Gooey promises. Always.
But right now, it's gone, and there's nothing left but a few scars. One on Gooey, and several on Kirby, both inside and out. And maybe one day, one day, they'll fade, with enough time.
Maybe, he thinks, looking out over the ocean, scooting a little closer to the one he would risk life and limb for. Watermelon in their laps, in their mouths.
Maybe.
They go home on unsteady feet, the sun rising slowly in the distance. It takes what seems like forever, but it's nothing to the sight of their family, warm hugs and words of affirmation, the squeals of their little brother as he runs out to greet them with no regard to his own health, yelling from their father that does nothing to conceal his worry, relief, guilt. Kirby sinks deep into it all, Gooey at his side, and feels at peace. Just for a moment.
Of course they both go to a hospital, and neither of them care to argue about it, both dead on their metaphorical feet. Ironically, it's Kirby who apparently has sustained the most wounds, so it's he who gets the special treatment, practically bound to his bed while Gooey is allowed a bit more free reign. They're put in the same room, of course, because Kirby refuses anything else and it's the easiest way to keep him resting.
There, alone with Gooey, so present but so quiet, there's nothing to keep his mind from starting to settle and starting to ruminate. Thinking about everything that happened, everything that went wrong.
It doesn't take much mental prodding from Gooey for his mouth to let it all out.
"I missed you so much Gooey," He says, and it flows like water from his mouth, so much easier than speaking to his parents would ever be, "I couldn't fathom you not being there. I had to go get you. I...couldn't comprehend you not being there. You know?"
He licks his lips, staring up at the ceiling, through it, into nothing. "When I felt you fade, when you...left...I couldn't cope. And I still can't. Thinking about it...I don't want to experience that ever again. It-It's like a part of me /died/ when you went, and I..."
Kirby swallows, terrifying thoughts in his mind, on his tongue, but he can't stop now that he's going. "What if that thing comes back, Gooey? What if he tries again? What if I'm not /strong/ enough this time? I-- He almost killed me, I know it. He could do it, I know he could. I can't imagine him taking you again, Gooey. What if it happens? I..."
Gooey shifts his bed silently and Kirby senses more than sees the way he leaves it and flutters over, slowly but surely. He doesn't realize he's actually shaking until a familiar cool warmth envelops him where Gooey is leaning to rest against his figure in as good a hug as he can provide. Feeling flood through him, impressions not his own, of safety, warmth, love, reassurance. It's okay, he knows Gooey is saying. Determination, hard as iron. They won't be separated again.
Kirby can't help reaching up to return the gesture, even as he starts to sniffle and feel his eyes sting.
It will be hard for him. For them both, to recover from the ordeal. Kirby, as his body adjusts to a new kind of post-traumatic stress, weeks passing plagued by nightmares that have him screaming, weeks that come in the form of sleepless nights and moody days when insomnia and catastrophic thoughts force him to lay awake at night, unblinking.
Dreams and thoughts of Gooey, dead and dying in his arms. Of Sub Zero, making his return and exactly his revenge. Kirby's metaphorical heart torn from his chest and smashed on the ground. Gooey, gone, always gone.
But Gooey is always there, every time he needs him, no matter what. Every nightmare, every whisper of panicked thought. Always there to cuddle and comfort, to breathe with him when terrified breathing turns to hyperventilation. Encouraging him to seek help, in whatever way he can.
Helps that comes in the form of Atticus. One tentative phone call brings medicine made from plants that help to soothe those thoughts, at least dampen them and the nightmares. A wonderful aid from someone he looks up to dearly, and a good reprieve for Gooey who, he thinks guiltily, hasn't had much sleep since they came home.
Kirby has no idea if he'll ever truly be okay. Sub Zero still lingers on his mind, and no matter how well he feels, the memory of Gooey's body in his arms will never fade. Not ever.
Even as they grow, even as the years pass and their strength can only increase, even as Gooey tells him the monster can't be sensed and likely succumbed to its injuries. The thought lingers.
They'll fight it together, Gooey promises. Always.
But right now, it's gone, and there's nothing left but a few scars. One on Gooey, and several on Kirby, both inside and out. And maybe one day, one day, they'll fade, with enough time.
Maybe, he thinks, looking out over the ocean, scooting a little closer to the one he would risk life and limb for. Watermelon in their laps, in their mouths.
Maybe.
-End-
<< Chapter 6
Artist Comment:
Date: N/A
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Date: N/A
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Species © Nintendo/ HAL Laboratory
Interpreted characters created from said species © Rhylem
Interpreted characters created from said species © Rhylem
