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The dark crowds his vision causing him to panic. Breathing rapidly, eyes darting about searching for something, anything… nothing. A soft thrum builds up behind him, however no matter where he looks he’s unable to locate its source.
The thrum grows in strength making his head hurt. Whipping his head around a voice crawls up from the deepest depths of his soul. One lost to eons of time, distorted and barely recognizable.
“You brought this upon yourself, you worthless jester.”
Pitifully he croaks out, “..what?”
“You didn’t deserve him.”
“You did the right thing, relieving him of all his burdens..”
“...”
“No, no no no. i- it wasn’t, no thats-”
“You wanted this, why are you now regretting it? You always get what you want, you deserve everything that happens.”
Snapping his eyes open (when did he close them?) He finds himself in a soft mattress, fit for two with a large quilt.
“Was i..? Hah Hah Hah… of course i was just dreaming he’s still-”
Looking over to the other side of the bed to the space where he should’ve occupied his breath hitches when it’s vacant. Sitting up he hangs his head resting it in his hands. Closing his eyes he mutters “I’m so, so sorry…”
Barely as if it was simply a fleeting thing (which it was) a hand rests on his shoulder, cold, intangible and terrifying.
“You thought waking would save you from me‽”
“Well you thought wrong.”
Startled, he scrambles up and out of the bed. “WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE‽‽”
Looking back he sees…
Sugar. His sweet, sweet sugar face twisted into one of hate and disgust. Her body, slightly transparent and her wings… they were so, so under kept tattered and torn… before this mess she would never have let herself be this disheveled even in her slothful state in that horrible garden of hers.
“Wow. Looks like you really still do have such a thick skull. No wonder that vanillian couldn't get through to you.”
“I-” she cuts him off, refusing to let him get anything in.
“No, don't you ‘I’ me. It's your fault we're stuck with you, it's your fault that hermit is dead. Don't try and blame us, you did it.”
“You were always such a baby, and you ‘redeeming’ yourself didn't do anything to change that. You don't get to sulk, it's your fault.”
The words echoed in his skull, occupying his every thought until he simply went numb to the world. Sitting, sliding? Whatever he did he ended up on the bed. A slow tear rolls down his cheek, then another and another and another until he can't stop and full sobs are coming out.
“It's ok my bluebird, don't cry..”
“Sh, sh it's ok..”
“You know it's ok, you know
It is your fault.”