Goretober - 2024

14. Medical Horror || Genloss - Slimecicle & Ranboo

bro pls i've been sitting in front of a blank screen for a hot minute and i cant figure out to write

ngl i think i'll write this one tomorrow bc i literally cant figure out what to do

ok, i'm back a day later, let's see if i can figure this out lol

Charlie waited for a moment until he was sure that the figure was gone and wasn't coming back, and then he tried hauling himself out of bed.

Emphasis on "tried". His feet hit the floor, but when he tried standing, his legs wobbled and gave out, pain shooting through every nerve he had.

Charlie gasped, dropping to the floor, the stitches on his chest straining as he landed on his hands and knees. His glasses were splattered with blood and tears, and Charlie vaguely wondered why he was still wearing them.

But that wasn't important now, and neither was his pain.

Charlie bit his lip again, a pained whine pushing itself from his throat as he pulled himself back up.

He had to find Ranboo, even if they were dead. He just had to know.

Cuts on his thighs stretched, blood slowly oozing out, thicker than it should have been. A bit greener than normal too.

Charlie painfully limped for the door, leaning on it for a moment before he pulled it open.

The hallway outside was brightly lit by humming fluorescents, lighting up every gash and slice Charlie had, showing just how little color he had in his cheeks and brightening his black eyes.

There was a door across the hall from him, and he steeled himself for a moment before pushing himself out of his room, falling into the door. He pushed it open, a triangle of light shooting across the floor into the dark room.

Charlie entered as quickly as he could, shutting the door before anyone could catch him, letting out a weak breath. Everything was exploding in pain, and he was pretty sure his stitches were already snapping, a bloom of red on his thin shirt.

The bed was across the room, horizontal from where Charlie was standing. Someone was in it, their legs reached all the way to the end of the bed. Whoever it was, was tall.

"Ranboo?" Charlie whispered, his weak, squeaking breath sticking to his words and making his voice crack and shatter. He sounded fragile.

Charlie slid over to the wall on his left, pressing himself against it and holding it with his fingertips, using it to help him walk to the bed. His legs wobbled painfully, he so desperately wanted to collapse, but he didn't dare.

"Ranboo?" he whispered again.

He reached the bed and stayed pressed to the wall, trying not to whimper quietly, but with each breath a pained sound came out.

The thin sheet, as thin as Charlie's shirt, covered the person's head, and Charlie gingerly reached out, pulling it back with two fingers.

His stomach dropped, his heart dropping with it.

Ranboo was the one in the bed, but their face was cut up worse than Charlie would have thought, their mask cracked and nearly shattered. He could see wires that snaked into Ranboo's mouth from the mask, the faint bulge of them obvious in their throat.

Their face was thick with a layer of dried blood, covered so thoroughly it could have been makeup.

"Ranboo?" Charlie asked weakly, pressing a hand to his split lip, his stomach churning with nausea.

He finally let his legs give out, and he dropped to the floor.

More stitches split open, and more blood spread over his shirt.