A/N: So for the title, that was me briefly out of ideas and just trying to name the chapter something. Still it does fit the theme and is more of a continuation since the one prior to Wrath went longer than I liked and it would have just felt cluttered to continue into this.
With that done, I hope you leave a comment and vote for the story. Least when things start getting good.
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Thomas had the feeling of falling.
When he was in high school dreams like that could have filled his piggy bank with dimes. Probably enough to buy a Dance or Pep rally ticket.
Wind roared in his ears and in the suffocating silence was the vague ghost of high school chatter. Gossip, moaning about tests. Who was with who, failed dates, and where hands went. All the rules and do's or don'ts.
What would apply to the closeted gay?
Would he be the next hot thing? Would they all be talking about how his Catholic parents threw out their son or how he was in some church program? Was he gonna be another gay tragedy on daytime TV with all the trashy Spanish soaps.
Thomas finally landed with a thunk. Much like a stone in a pond.
It was wet too. Where was he?
It was so cold and desolate. Each step made a splash. Again and again he called Logan and Patton's names.
Tried to find anything, any detail that was familiar.
Though right now he only heard the distant splash and echoing drip of more black, glassy water.
Almost like a mirror.
Touching his palm the water rippled and then turned into a whirlpool before it settled.
His soaked bare legs now stood in an image of the Mind Palace in a form he'd never seen it in. When he couldn't have been more than eight.
When a taller, singular boy came to sit beside him with unruly brown hair shot with red and green. Such a large grin on his face and ruffling Thomas' hair.
King Creativity. And their safe, royal chamber to discuss important business and intimate matters. Ones that made him feel so important. So heard.
But then King left. Then there were two boys closer to his age and sometimes he didn't like them both.
Sometimes they fought.
And sometimes he wanted them to be gone forever.
Another memory flickered in his quickly hazing mind.
Of a Side in a horribly ripped Orange tee and a mouth lined with blood.
Thomas was crying violently. Throwing some kind of tantrum, the boy always yelling louder and longer in his ear. Louder and louder, a voice of breaking glass.
Without reason, without thought he gulped a long, liberating breath of air and plunged into the water.
And he heard beautiful voices.
"Logan! Logan what are you saying? Logan please, please hear me," Patton sobbed. "You aren't making sense."
Thomas fell into another faded memory.
Of Tucker Foley speaking with a six foot tall, hulking wolf ghost in a ghost language.
Logan was babbling in broken, distressed Esperanto. Patton's shrill, chipper voice having dissolved into pleading peals.
YOU ARE READING
Do or Die
Fanfiction"There are smarter, more fun ways to get what you want..." Janus Sanders, Selflessness vs Selfishness. In the weeks after the trial Deceit makes good on these words and begins a plan to get Thomas to that callback. No matter the cost. Patton falls...
