★osc oneshots★

tnm ★ spraypaint & speech bubble ★ an attempt at being a friend to you

Summary:
Spraypaint is bound to the hospital bed and bargains with his grief. A surprise visitor comes to him to chat.

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Darkness crept over the hospital room, lights off because of the early hour. Spraypaint didn't remember when he woke up, only knew that somewhere along the way, he fluidly transitioned from meaningless slumber to conscious, hopeless thoughts.

He could hear faint moans, snores and shuffling of blankets, sounds all produced by other patients in the room, from whom he was separated only by curtains. None of that was pleasant to hear. Spraypaint was used to napping in the noisy streets, but in this moment he would prefer to stay asleep and deaf to all of it.

Soon would come the nurses to open the blinds and let sun into the room; for now everything was covered in shadows. The fan Spraypaint so absent-mindedly stared at still tried and failed to circulate the air, moving too slowly to have any effect. Some device beside him beeped along with his heartbeat. (It was annoying, too. He wished he could be spared hearing it so close.) The night stand next to the bed had a vase with brick-red dahlias on it, though he couldn't see it from his position.

Nothing had changed since the accident.

Every day spent here would further send Spraypaint into a spiral of discomfort. He couldn't deal with it. How foolish he had been, to think that he had nothing to lose when he was homeless. And now, he had lost so much more - a part of his body, his optimism and will to live... and these didn't even come close to the most devastating loss: that of his close companion.

Mouse lost her life there.

Spraypaint wished he could exchange places with her. He wished he had died instead.

She deserved to recover and relish the warmth of the sun, to breathe the humid air, to feel a comfortable pillow under her head every night. Mouse would have found these things delightful. Mouse would have enjoyed being alive.

Spraypaint didn't.

His thoughts drifted back to the moment he saw her body pierced brutally by a flying spear. He had spent a good while processing the sight, staring at her while completely numbed out in shock. Only the distant, frightened shouting of Tophat and Sketchpad had broken him out of this paralyzed state... but now Spraypaint lingered over the memory of Mouse. She fell victim to a trap... would she have survived if they hadn't split up in the hallways?

He should have stayed with her. He should have prioritised her safety over someone else's orders.

Tracing even further back, Spraypaint wondered if all of this could've been prevented... if he and Mouse hadn't accepted the invitation. Now that he thought of it, it was obviously suspicious that they, of all people, got invited. Somebody lured them. Why was Spraypaint so stupid to attend the feast? Why did he fall for a trap? Darn it, he was a thief! He should've known better than to trust a random leaflet!

A thief... but more importantly, homeless. 

That's why they decided to go - they were malnourished. And Spraypaint remembered how he thought they could have fun for once. He wanted Mouse to have fun. He wanted her to not have to worry about her survival, even if only for a second.

If they hadn't ended up on the streets, maybe they wouldn't have fallen for that bait then. And why were they homeless? Because Spraypaint had selfishly stolen the gem and upset their gang leader. What if he had managed to make peace with Lazy? Maybe they wouldn't have been kicked out...? ...maybe everything would be fine?

It was all his fault, wasn't it?

Why did he have to ruin Mouse's life?

...and then take it from her.