Work Text:
today is so strange
Three things happened:
- I started journaling. Weird!
- I had the worst headache of my life. Would not recommend.
- And I finally got the stuff that'd cure me without dirtying my hands.
It wasn't that difficult, either. All I had to do was cook dinner and add a little extra spice to what I knew Cho'd eat. They did. They liked it, and gave me that look they always give me when I do something right. Squinty red eyes and a little strained smile. I like it when they smile. It makes the lights seem a little brighter when they do.
I'm a terrible cook. I think it was a little burned. But we don't care.
DAY TWO
I've decided I'm going to be keeping track of the days. This might take a while. Last night they looked unbothered. I watched while they slept. Couldn't sleep Wasn't tired. Does that mean this isn't working?
Cho just asked me what I was doing. I said I'm making a gift for them. Didn't really feel like a lie. Maybe it wasn't. Regardless, they smiled, laughed, and tapped the back of my chair.
Today's serving was in a cup of water they'd left sitting out. I hope they do drink it.
DAY THREE
I can't tell if this is working or not. We slept in late today. Blew up some stuff outside as usual. It was fun, but I don't think my head was quite in the game. They're still so vibrant. Lively. Does it bother me?
I told myself I'd write more in here. But there isn't much to write.
The sky was a pale blue today with specks of cloud. The sun a little white eye in the middle of it all. Did it watch when I sprinkled Cho's lunch? The windows were closed. I hope not.
I hugged them today as well. They're so warm. Something about their warmth makes my skin prick when I feel it. Both comforting and not.
DAY 4
I'm too lazy to write out the full name of the day number. So I'm just using the digits now. I hope that's okay. Who would judge me?
Cho looked tired today. We napped together. It was nice. The slow rise and fall of their chest put me to sleep too. Was it slower or faster than normal? I couldn't tell.
Today's was served atop some ice cream we stole from some store a week ago. That was fun. It felt like pulling a treasure chest from a sunken ship, covered in barnacles, or in this case, soot. I insisted we brought the thing home in spite of Cho's protests. Luckily, we both like the taste of soot. It was funny, watching the spoonfuls of solid material degrade to liquid as it approached their face. It dripped everywhere and made a mess of our table and their clothes. A mess I cleaned up.
I don't like cleaning. But I enjoyed it, because it was them.
DAY FIVE
I changed my mind about the day numbers. They look better this way. It's only a few extra letters.
We blew up some more stuff today. Didn't go as long as I would've liked. By the end, they were the only one heaving with exertion. It should've been both of us. I think that means this is working.
Table was quiet as we ate our dinners. It wasn't the food that was spiked. It was their water, again. Felt uncreative, but I didn't get any good chances at their food. Don't want to risk it. Not worth it.
d Day 6
I changed my mind again about the days thing again. Also, why was I writing them all uppercase? That's stupid. Or something.
We didn't go out today. Cho declined when I asked, and gave me that squinty smile again. They do that sometimes. I liked their smile.
I don't know if I wrote it earlier, but I'm not using all of it at once. I don't think I'm ready It has a better chance of working if given in incrementing doses over multiple days. I think.
I couldn't do it today. They never left anything alone. To the point of just sitting at the table and fidgeting. I asked them if anything was wrong, and they told me they were "thinking" about something.
Cho doesn't think. Maybe they're onto me, somehow?
Day 7
Something's happened today for sure. Even though I skipped yesterday, Cho looked so tired. When they smiled at me, their mouth didn't move. Only their eyes. That squint. It lit the room, but the missing half made my chest hurt. Or was it that blasted directive, demanding I act on a moment of vulnerability in them? How do I tell it that I am? How do I tell it to stop hurting them me?
I didn't bother asking today. They already told me no. They said they "didn't sleep well" and that "they'll be all better tomorrow". They're always better again soon when they're sick. Is it bad of me to I know that isn't true, not this time. I know why, too. It's my fault. I don't don't regret it.
It was coffee today. A kind gesture for someone so exhausted as Cho, and kind gesture for someone so exhausted as I.
At least I didn't have to drink any to reap the rewards.
day 8
I don't really feel like writing today, and its late. So I'll keep this brief.
Cho was pretty normal today, and agreed to blow up more stuff with me. It was real fun! We danced with fire 'till the sky painted nightlike with ash, and a weak red circle took the place of the sun. Or, I danced. I found Cho in a mound of rubble. Tears spilled from their face as blood would from a wound, streaking the broken wood and stone beneath their head with sooty mud rather than red. They were calling for me. Crying my name. Quietly screaming as sparks flicked at their fingertips, never enough to ignite.
They sobbed in my arms as I carried them home. Smudged the ash on me. Was it tears or raindrops that brought grey streaks down my face, too? I couldn't tell.
I ruined some crackers of theirs. Even though it wasn't dissolved in anything, the powdery salt coating the crackers masked its appearance. It was all they would eat. They barely even looked at me. Did I do something wrong?
In retrospect, that was a lot more than brief. I guess it's easy to keep going on something if you start, even if you don't didn't really want to.
9
i'm so damn tired
Things were awkward this morning. I don't think Cho likes admitting failure. We sat for breakfast like there was an elephant in the room. I think that's the saying.
Was the elephant the raspiness of their voice or the cause of it all in their plate? Only I'd know, and I don't.
They keep telling me to stay away. Are they afraid of getting me ill too? They can't. But they wouldn't know that.
Little update. I planned on that sentence above being the last for today, but I got woken up in the middle of the night. I almost turned a new page, till I looked at the time and realized it was still PM rather than AM. So it's still day nine. I think Cho's in the bathroom. I keep hearing the toilet flush. I think that's what woke me up?
I went and checked on them after I wrote that. I knocked and they didn't tell me to screw off. Instead, they just said my name in this weird drawn-out way. They didn't protest when I cracked the door. I found them kneeling before the toilet, shaking like its freezing even though the room was warm. They looked up at me and asked why, in this breathless manner. Asked why this is happening to them. Why their face was still dripping the red that still tinged the water pink. I couldn't give an answer. I couldn't.
I helped clean them up. I don't like cleaning. And I hated it even more, because it was them.
day 10
Cho didn't get up today. Well, not really. They aren't dead. Does that comfort me or bother me?
They couldn't walk by themself though. I tried to help, but they were too tired. Told me to let them stay. When I held them for that moment, they were still warm, but their hands were cold. Colder than me. Isn't that strange? I'm always the coldest.
Also, we both woke up really early. I couldn't tell if the sun had risen yet, since it was so cloudy. It was frigid regardless.
I don't know why I wrote that all so early in the day. I guess I didn't expect anything major to happen.
I was heating water to make Cho tea. There's this old microwave we found somewhere. I originally planned to scrap the thing for parts, but Cho insisted we fix it up, for some reason. I get the feeling neither of us really cared about its function in the end. Just that we had done it. I could've used my powers, but the microwave reminds me of them I didn't want to blow up the mug on accident. It was so loud.
I stuck the tea bag in the mug. I didn't really know how long you're supposed to wait for tea, so I just waited. While I waited, I added the stuff.
I didn't see Cho in the doorway. They looked so out of it. I think I saw a bit of the little light left in their eyes leave. They asked me what I was doing.
I told them it was sugar.
They hate sweet tea.
It doesn't taste like sugar.
It doesn't even really look like sugar.
They smiled at me, again, without their mouth. And without the squint. It was kind of the opposite of a smile, actually. But it was a smile nonetheless.
I gave them the mug. And they drank it.
It wasn't even sweet.
And I hated it so much more, because it was me.
Day 11
It was so quiet.
It felt wrong to go play by myself. They told me to, though. I suppose I better get used to it. Used to the way that the fire feels colder without them, and the way that there's no one to steal my buildings or kills. It was horrible kind of nice.
When I returned, I half expected them to be dead. They're quite the tenacious type though, still holding onto life like it owes them something. Something I could've given, had I tried. They must've had another incident while I was away, too. The bathroom looked like I repainted it a nice shade of brick red. Meaning, the paint job was terrible. I don't know how to paint. Unless it's with fire.
I fixed it up. I didn't get all the smears out from the tile, but that's okay. It'll probably happen again. Probably.
Cho actually asked me for canned soup. We think that's what people eat when they're sick? So, I did what I was obligated to do. Both things. What they asked, and my routine.
They thanked me in that slurred, low tone they've acquired as of late. Looked at me with half-open eyes and a palish face. Said it was good. I sat and watched as they ate it. I thought it looked pretty good, too.
12
I don't know what to say.
I guess it was pretty bright outside, in spite of the overcast sky. I couldn't really tell where the sun was. If Cho were there, and said the sun wasn't up at all, I might've believed them. But Cho was inside.
I hung out in their room for most of the day. They didn't really talk to me. They didn't do much at all. The only things that reminded me that they were still alive were the occasional hitches of their breathing, or the sad look in their eyes when I'd turn to face them. They seemed a little less sad whenever I looked at them. Could I say the same about myself?
When they did talk to me, it was to ask me for something. When I asked what, they mumbled something unintelligible. I could only assume it had to be something to eat, so I brought them soup again. They accepted, but as I gave it to them, they held onto my hand rather than the bowl. I wonder what that was about? After enough time passed for the soup to surely have gone cold, they ate it. Slowly. Staring at me whenever they weren't too busy making sure the twitches of their hand didn't send soup into their blankets. It felt a little weird.
Cho woke me
13
Apologies. I was awoken in the middle of the night again. I thought it was still the twelfth day--the sun was completely absent--but when I looked at the time, it read AM. This time, Cho wasn't out of their bed. They were tapping their nightstand in little desperate bursts. When I walked to them, they didn't say anything. Maybe they tried, and were unable to. Only looked at me with half-closed eyes. It made my head hurt. Seeing them like that.
The work I'd done It made me feel uncomfortable, so I tried walking away. But the tapping resumed when I averted my gaze. They wanted me to watch, or to stand there. Why? I could barely get away long enough to write this section down before they started tapping for the third time. I'll have to see what is needed of me.
14 13, continued
Last night was strange. I got confused on the dates again. Sorry.
I'll continue where I left off, I suppose. I didn't get another chance to write in here before sunrise. Cho kept tapping whenever I'd try to get away, and I knew I'd never be able to sleep like that, so I resigned myself to sharing the bed with them. It wasn't too unpleasant. Before I dozed off, they gave me their arm to hold. I remember wondering if that threadish pulse would be the last I ever felt of it.
When I woke up again, it was still quite dark outside, at least from the perspective of the window. The sun had to work through so much cloud, it may as well have been eclipsed. Maybe it was. It was interesting how my head felt so painless. I think I was just used to it, so when it was gone, it felt strange.
Cho's arm was still in my hands. It was cold but, that was nothing new. Nothing new. What was new, was its stillness. The thread was gone. Absent.
In my desperation To make sure everything had gone well with the pl In my desperation, I shook them. Screamed their name. They responded with an unfocused stare and a voice that sounded like echoes of my own. Maybe they were smiling, in that way they do, without moving their eyes or mouth. But no, they couldn't have been. But maybe they were?
I've been pacing, longer than I cared to keep track of. Cho's been quiet.
I thought this would make me feel less. Why didn't it work. Why isn't it working. Why won't it work. I don't understand. How can I possibly love someone who is dead because of me!?
FUCK MY LIFE
I'M NEVER COMING BACK FROM THIS, AM I?
I'M A FUCKING IDIOT AND I KNOW IT AND IT WON'T STOP IT WON'T STOP WHY
WHY HAVE I THROWN AWAY THE ONE THING IN THIS ENTIRE DAMNED WORLD THAT I CARED ABOUT SO THAT I WOULDN'T CARE ABout it
i don't want to write anymore. I've officially screwed up my journal. You're covered in scribbles now. I'm sorry.
there's one last thing i'd like to tell you. It didn't take as much as I thought. I bought an entire bag and i expected to use the whole thing. but i only used half.
maybe there's still enough left for me