Lost Crown, Lost Self || Captain Palette 2 || part 2 of Cappa!AU || ON HOLD. ||

(6) Maybe he could actually get away with this? (6)

Palette was about to puke rainbow and stars, what was he supposed to do!?

Paperjam-.. And now!-... Huh?!

He had to act. Quick.

Think Palette, think.

His head whipped around wildly as he tried to take in his surroundings that was dark enough that he couldn't see. But there really was no escape. He gulped, backing away from the door and wall.. Funnily enough, he bumped into a shelf... he had no idea where the hell he was.

As he glanced around the realization that he was in a cleaning closet dawned on him. A dusty broom, an old mop, cleaning products and items on a small shelf. Palette continued to hold his breath as he heard light hearted bickering which he was now not focusing on.

A secret door? A hidden compartment? Even a mysterious cloak that was conveniently placed for plot relevance? No. Nothing. Zit. Nada.

Palette could physically hear Nightmare's footsteps growing louder as he came nearer. Fuck! Was his anxiety only further alerting Nightmare of his presence? Yeah, but he couldn't help it. There were so many thoughts shooting around his head. Did Paperjam really consider joining them? But.. was that why he was so mad? No. No. P-

Focus Palette!

Palette slapped himself, before grabbing a broom in desperation. Funnily enough.. it wasn't Broomie but instead.. an actual broom. In a pathetic attempt to hide, he hid his body behind the broom. No, it wasn't good.. it was like hiding behind a twig.

Palette heard Nightmare try the handle, the jostling becoming slightly aggressive when he noticed the door was locked.

Shit!

"Dad."

A voice interrupted the tension.

Palette rubbed the cheek he had slapped, he slowly and quietly let out a steady breath so he wouldn't pass out in this closet.

"What?" Nightmare's voice demanded from the other side. He let go of the handle. Palette could sense the irritation in his voice. Palette felt his chest sink with an aura of negativity.

"Raidier says that he needs your help. He's stuck."

"..What?"

"He's stuck."

Palette blinked. One of his cousins needed help? He stayed perfectly still, a chill running down his spine at the thought of moving a non-existent muscle.

"..What do you mean he's stuck?"

"I mean he's stuck. Go help him, otherwise you'll never hear the end of it." The voice was sharp yet spoke with such bluntness, honest yet with emotional distance. Palette didn't dare think a happy thought, anything could alert his existence more than it already has.

"..Can't you help him?" Nightmare responded, his muffled voice was almost accusatory. There was silence for a moment, yeesh.. awkward. Palette didn't move an inch.

".. Let me just-"
"Nightmare." The voice spoke sternly. "I find their shenanigans just as irritating as you do. Whatever is in that closet can't be more important than our sanity later on in the day."

A pause.

"Fine. I want you to stay here and watch that fucking closet. Got it?" Nightmare growled angrily. Palette waited until the sound of angry, angry footsteps dispersed before a knock came at the door.

"You can come out now." The voice encouraged. The teenager hesitated, he had no idea who this person was. Could they be trustworthy? Although.. rotting in this closet would be a bad idea.