Who You Share it With (Willy Wonka x reader)

34. Death at the Hands of Chocolate

"Willy," you mumbled, holding onto him as three vents above you flicked open. Each one was labeled with a name—Slugworth, Fickelgruber, and Prodnose respectively. Not a moment later did the valves erupt streams of hazelnut-brown chocolate. You stared around, your brain as muddy as the confection beneath you.

"What are we gonna do?" Noodle asked, the first to grasp some sort of hold on the situation.

Willy bit his lip, the muddle up to your ankles, "I don't know, Noodle. I'll think of something."

You watched in horror as chocolate cascaded down from above. As your eyes darted around for ideas, a glint of light bounced off the door handle. "Wait here, I'm going to try getting the hatch open," you said.

Willy grabbed your arm before you could leave, "No, it's too dangerous, Y/n."

"More dangerous than drowning in chocolate?"

He stayed quiet once you said that. Taking the silence as approval, you waded through the sugary-sweet pool back to the doorway. The chocolate was nearly up to your calves at this point. You tried the handle to no avail, before attempting to pry its hinges apart. The effort was no use; the entire opening had been sealed until it was water—chocolate-tight.

With disappointment and panic in your eyes, you trudged through the fudge-like liquid at your feet back to Willy and Noodle. Speaking of, as soon as you entered their earshot, Willy slapped a palm to Noodle's face, interrupting her from saying whatever she was going to. You found the interaction rather strange, but questioning it would only waste precious time.

"It's no use," you admitted sadly. "Everything is sealed shut."

"But, you can't—" Willy muttered, stopping himself. He stared down in thought, and you wished, for a moment, that you could get a glimpse of the whirlwind in his sugar-addled mind.

~•~

"But you can't—" die, not because of me!'

Willy's mind was that of a madman's; one trying as hard as they might to escape death's clutches. No, that wasn't quite true. If the time of reckoning had come for him, he would pass on as quick as a fly. What he had desperately tried to evade was the inevitable loss of Y/n and Noodle in his pursuit of happiness. Oh, how many a time had he faced this predicament? Once, twice, ten thousand times? At the moment, it seemed to be all and none of them all the same.

Was this his final card? The last ship left to sail the twisted chocolate-swirled seas that surrounded him? Could this be his penultimate breath?

Yes, it was. And Willy was determined to make the most of it.

What did he have? A lover, a friend, a surplus of bad chocolate, and a hateful of dreams. "I've got it!" He pulled out as many ingredients as he could carry. "If we're gonna drown in chocolate, and let's face it, we're gonna drown in chocolate, it's gonna be Wonka chocolate!" He eagerly tipped his spices and—

"Willy, stop," said Y/n, cupping his cheek and staring into his eyes. He felt himself lost for a moment in pools of e/c, flecked with chocolate and gold. "I'm sure there is something better to do than waste good ingredients—" the rest of her words seemed to blend into a melody. A beautiful mess that only she could orchestrate. His gaze, though try as hard as he might for it not to, shifted naturally to her pink-stained lips. They lay as though painstakingly crafted by the finest sculptor and brushed delicately in iridescent watercolor.

"Got it, Willy?" he snapped out of his daze, greeted with the sharp tone of Noodle.

"Hmm? Beg your pardon," he hummed.

Noodle sighed in annoyance, leaning up to his ear. Angerly, she whispered, "Listen, I'm all for you and Y/n, but could you stop making goo-goo eyes at her for one second!"

"Uh, what was that?" Y/n asked. He found himself melting once more into her voice; easing into the chocolate that surrounded him.

"Just telling Willy that we're going to tap on the glass on the ceiling once the chocolate rises us up there. Right, Willy?" Noodle asked, jutting her elbow into his side.

"Yeah- ow," Willy rubbed his sore muscle. Noodle had so graciously made dying even more unenjoyable. It was times like this when Willy'd ask himself a simple question:

What in the ever-loving truffle made me so devoted to these two again?

Then, he'd answer it with the simple conclusion he'd always reached: Oh, yes, one was possessed an unparalleled intellect, but was robbed the life they deserved because of a shattered bloodline. The other managed to keep not only their witts but a kind, generous, and adventurous, heart intact through trial and tribulation at every turn.

They're the most deserving individuals I've ever had the chance to meet, and yet they've both had their lives stolen.

He wished for nothing more than to hand them all their hopes and desires on a silver platter, but there he was, a few brief moments away from leaving his own time behind.

~•~

"Ha, well, this isn't fun at all," you admitted with a tremble, doing your best to grasp Willy's hand as the viscous pool steadily lifted you up. Somehow, the chocolate stuck to your fingers like honey, yet still tasted of sweet nothing. Maybe Willy was right about making death more satisfying with the help of his ingredients.

Death. Hah, the word felt so dystopian to you. There was a time when you'd pray for it to take you in its clutches like an errant fleck of dust in the wind. Times when your life at the laundry became so unbearable, even Hell seemed more hospitable. Though now, you couldn't help but feel disappointed. Not at your means of demise—your last moments spent in a sea of chocolate seemed to be something you'd dream up in a fairy tale—no, just knowing exactly what you'd lose. Death meant never laughing with Noodle again. Death meant never playing chess with Abacus again. Death meant never chatting with Lottie again. Death meant never joking with Larry again. Death meant never helping Piper again.

Death... meant never embracing Willy ever again.

The persistent climb the chocolate had created turned the little air left to breathe into a blanket begging to drag you down with it. You couldn't succumb to the claustrophobic heat, instead focusing on what you could change.

"Help!" You, Noodle, and Willy threw your fists against the glass of the window, praying to whatever lord that may lay above that someone would hear you.

"Look! Someone's there, we're saved!" And that's when you were reminded why you didn't pray for anything.

It was the three chocolatiers, bidding you nothing but a silent goodbye.

~•~

1145 words

"WE'RE ALMOST THERE!!! Listen, I know that most Wonka fics are around eight to twenty chapters long, and we're at number thirty-four, but you started, and you are now obligated to finish it alongside me. Seriously though, thank you all so much for keeping up with this story. This isn't the last chapter—not yet—but I hope you all know just how much I appreciate every vote, new commenter, and even every read. I'll see you, dear readers, next chapter."

- Coffee