Cake Oneshots Ahaha

Minutes too Late

(TW: Implied suicide, gun, description of a dead body)

I thought I'd try to write something sad in here. And no, Cake isn't the one that dies

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Sometimes, the nights get cold.

But they're even colder if you're alone.

And some people learn this the hard way.
+×~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡♡♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~×+

With no one left to guide him after the event, which shall only be referred to as the Fall of Them All, Cake wanders aimlessly. He doesn't know where his friends and family are, or if they're even still alive. Still, he searches for them. It's been years, he's been looking for years. Years. Years, just going by. He has found no one in the wasteland that remains of what used to be his home. All he had is a flashlight, a bat, a violin, and a small black cat following him. The cat was named Peaches, for her vibrant orange eyes that stood out against the gray, gloomy scenery. She used to be Clock's cat, but nobody knew where Clock was now. He could be near, he could be far. He could be dead. Cake could tell Clock was not in that hellhole of a scrap yard anymore, left to go to a nearby town. It had been abandoned a long time ago, and most of the houses were breaking down. But there was one building, probably what used to be a bar. It had counters and shelves and big, dark rooms. The only light that came in was from the shattered windows, as the candles on the chandelier had melted away, leaving nothing but seven golden, dry, citrus-scented puddles of wax on the old wooden counter.

Cake walked up to the old bar, cursing under his breath as he tripped on one of the rotting floorboards of the staircase. He stood back up, and walked inside.
"Damn, this place doesn't feel empty... maybe it's just because you're here." Cake said, looking at Peaches fondly. He quickly noticed Peaches looking into a hallway, her ears flattened against her fluffy head. Her tail was between her legs, and she was shivering. Cake looked up at the hallway, and saw the one thing he never would've wanted to see. Clock was laying on the floor, motionless, with a gun in his hand. Cake had heard a bang while back at the scrap yard, but thought it was probably just the door of a car falling or something.
"What... the FUCK?!" Cake screamed, hoping Clock would hear him, and wake up. But Clock didn't move at all. Cake ran up to him. The blood on the floor was fresh. Peaches pawed at Clock's arm, and meowed quietly. Nothing. Cake grabbed Clock's shoulder, and pushed him. Nothing. He picked Clock up. His eyes where completely white. But a dull white. No reflections, no light coming off of them at all. There was a bullet wound in his chest. Cake threw Clock's body onto the floor, and ran towards a wall. He curled up, putting his knees up to his face and resting his arms on them as he cried, and the cold air that surrounded him got even colder.

He was minutes too late.