The Part Off-Camera (Among Us Logic One-shots)

The Gentleman/Mr. Cheese

TW: Mention of blood (not a super graphic description, but it's mentioned multiple times) canon-typical violence, and character "death" (Among Us "death", not actual character death).

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It was a regular Among Us round- this time on Polus- and The Gentleman was all alone. He and Mr Cheese had split up a little while ago and gone in different directions.

He was probably the impostor again. Oh, well. The Gentleman figured he'd let Mr Cheese have his fun. In the meantime though, The Gentleman would do his tasks.

He was fixing the weather node outside of electrical, pausing occasionally to rub his hands together and grumble to himself about how miserable he was in the cold, when he was caught off guard as something sharp was pressed into his back. It made several gashes there before it was mercifully pulled away. The Gentleman grabbed the weather node to steady himself but still collapsed onto the ground, face-first into the snow. He pushed himself onto his back and wiped the frost from his visor just in time to see a dash of pink run away.

"I'm so sorry, I really am, sir!!" Mr. Egg called as he hopped into a vent. He actually sounded quite sincere.

The Gentleman answered, It's quite alright, Mr. Egg! It is the job of the impostor to brutally murder their friends, so no hard feelings at all! In fact, the only feelings are ones of horrible pain because there is blood pooling underneath me at the moment. Well, he tried to answer, anyway, but his voice didn't seem to work. His words just came out as a garbled wail.

The whole experience was rather odd- he shouldn't be feeling any pain right now. He should be floating around as a ghost, doing his tasks until his body was reported or a meeting was called. Right now, though, he could certainly feel the sting of the cuts on his back, and he could feel the numbness spreading throughout his body as he started to lose the feeling in his limbs.

Did Mr. Egg not cut deep enough? Oh, that was it. He hadn't pressed the knife deep enough for it to be lethal, and now The Gentleman was left to bleed out on the ground. Of all the ways to die in this game, he hadn't even known this one was possible, and it was his least favorite by far. Maybe it was a glitch of some sort. Or Mr. Cheese was hacking the game again.

He laid in the snow wishing for death to come sooner for what felt like 20 minutes, but had actually only been 5 minutes– time goes slower when you're in agony.

His head felt too fuzzy to think about anything else, so he stared up at the sky of Polus. He'd never actually looked up before. The stars in the sky sparkled brightly against the dark contrast of space.

He bet he could touch them, if he tried. So he did. With the rapidly declining strength he had left, he lifted his hand and reached up towards the sky, and he imagined touching those stars. He imagined running his fingers through the black and silver canvas of outer space.

But he knew that wasn't possible. His hand dropped to his chest as the last of his strength failed him, his vision blurring and he started to close his eyes.

"The Gentleman?!"

Oh, he knew that voice- Mr. Cheese. He was going to walk over and report his body, whisking him away from this position, away from those stars that were practically taunting him, being so far out of reach like that.

The Gentleman felt two hands grip the front of his spacesuit and roughly jerk his upper torso off of the ground. Oh. He wasn't dead yet. If he were, he wouldn't be able to feel it as Mr. Cheese laid The Gentleman down in his lap, cradling the back of his head so that it wouldn't dip back.

He supposed that if he wasn't dead yet, he at least owed Mr. Cheese the courtesy of opening his eyes. So that's what he did, and his vision just barely focused on the figure holding him so close, with the lights of the stars shining above him. Mr. Cheese looked like an angel with all that light behind him, with the sky The Gentleman loved so much reflected in his visor. That visor was very close to him, he bet if he reached up...

The Gentleman ran the back of his hand across the starry visor, feeling the cool glass through the gloves of his spacesuit. He was just vaguely aware that he was smearing blood all over it, but he paid little mind to that and instead focused on the way it sparkled and shone. He liked sparkly, shiny things.

Of all the ways to die, bleeding out while being held was much more favorable than bleeding out in the snow. He tried telling Mr. Cheese that, but all he managed to mumble was "Mr. Cheese." His voice didn't sound quite right- it was hoarse, wobbly, and just barely audible.

With a shuddering gasp, Mr. Cheese rapidly nodded his head. "T-That's right! My name Mr. Cheese... and I'm here! I'll always be here..."

Oh, dear. He was crying. Why was he crying? The Gentleman had died many times before, and a few of those times Mr. Cheese had been the one to kill him! This wasn't anything new. Well, except for the fact that his death wasn't near-instantaneous like it always had been. That was certainly new. But if anyone should be crying, it was The Gentleman. 

"Who did this?! Who's the impostor?!"

Oh, yeah. This was Among Us. Well, was it really so criminal of him to forget that as more and more of his blood dripped onto the snow with each passing second? All he really wanted to do was sit in blissful silence as he enjoyed this foreign feeling of being held so close and those sparkly little dots...

"C'mon, answer me! I wanna throw 'em into the fiery pit of lava for doing this to you!!"

Which was sweet... for Mr. Cheese, anyway.

"Mmmmgh." It wasn't a very helpful response, but it was the best he could do.

"It was probably Player," Mr. Cheese concluded. The Gentleman didn't know how he got that from "mmmmgh", but he had forgotten who had killed him at this point and voting Player off was amusing.

Mr Cheese struggled to stand up, trying to carry the limp form of his double-top-hat-wearing friend to the Medbay. He was like a prince, trying to save him like this, The Gentleman mused. Yeah, that fit. A sweet, cheesy prince. That was a good name for him.

"Talk to me, Gentleman. Say something."

If only he could.

"C'mon, please."

No amount of begging was going to heal him. His mouth, his arms, his head- his entire body was numb. He couldn't move a single part of himself if he wanted to. The only part of him that could move, apparently, were his eyes, as they fluttered shut, and his head, as it fell heavily against Mr. Cheese's shoulder.

He'd see his prince again in the lobby.