To Be at Peace with Yourself

Chapter 12: Reality

What, did you think it was just going to be fluffy times?

The featured song is 'Dark Matter' by Travis A. King

***

Palette sat against a tree, sketchbook in hand and a glorious sunset before him. Yet, he found he couldn't concentrate. A sense of foreboding had begun to eat away at him the past week.

It had been a month now since Goth had stumbled into his life, and the artist was enjoying every minute of it. The two had become so much closer, a far cry from the first night when the small monster sat in the corner of the room all night, refusing to sleep because he couldn't trust anyone or anything. 

Now they were sleeping in the same bed together, taking comfort in each other's presence.

Even Goth's reintroduction to life outside had been going well. He was successfully able to recreate the alphabet and name each letter without any assistance, not to mention his vocabulary had improved considerably. 

The small skeleton had gone from monosyllabic, choppy responses and subtle gestures to having lengthy verbal discussions throughout the day with Palette, all in the span of a month!

So why does it feel like it won't last? 

A big part of that worry was due to the 'bad people' Goth had spoken of during their first week together. Palette hadn't seen a trace of them since the trio paid that late night visit, but he had a feeling they weren't going to stay gone forever.

As the days went by, the skeleton kept a vigilant watch for anything dangerous to him or his companion, his paranoia growing with each passing day. 

He tried his best not to let it show. He didn't want to get Goth worked up, after all.

Goth was currently sitting in a patch of nearby flowers, stringing them into a chain as the artist had shown him earlier in the week. Palette smiled softly as the smaller's tongue poked out, the intensity of his concentration soul-warming. 

He was currently wearing Palette's brown hat, having to constantly push it back up whenever it fell into his face due to its size, but he didn't seem to mind.

Palette looked back to the paper, letting out a sigh and turning to a clean page. 

I'm just not feeling the sunset today. 

Repositioning himself, he faced towards Goth and began drawing him instead.

Goth really is an angel, even if I'm not allowed to say it. He went from spending his existence being tortured for the sake of scientific discovery to enjoying a peaceful life in the woods. 

The evening Goth had revealed the extent of his hardships... it wasn't one either skeleton would forget anytime soon. The way he smiled now, though... Palette wasn't sure he'd be able to bounce back the same way if he were in their bones.

The artist sketched out the basic outline, starting with the Goth's head and worked his way down. Once the basic figure was done, he began to fill in the details, taking in every fold and dip in his clothing, the subtle nuances in his expression...

Stars, I'm falling head over heels for Goth.

As much as he tried to deny it, Goth had become an integral part of Palette's life. He could no longer picture his days without the small skeleton. 

The sad part was that even if his companion understood and reciprocated those feelings, there was one major problem the pair wouldn't be able to overcome: He was immortal and Palette wasn't. If Goth really couldn't die, then he would undoubtedly continue living long after the artist passed away. 

Attaching myself to Goth like that, only to leave him alone again in the future... it would merely turn his life into another eternal hell.

Palette couldn't do that to him, wouldn't do that to him... which meant his thoughts would remain just that: thoughts. 

They would continue to live their quiet life together as he taught Goth about the world around them. Once Palette passed on, he hoped the small skeleton would have the confidence and knowledge to make his way in the world without him.

Palette closed his sketchbook with a sigh, not feeling up to drawing anymore. His grim thoughts had put him in a dour mood. 

He heard a faint shuffling noise in the distance as he opened his bag... 

Probably a squirrel or something foraging for food. 

Packing up his art supplies, Palette paused as a high-pitch whine filled the air. Goth stood up in alarm, his eye lights darting around frantically. 

As Palette opened his mouth to call out, the smaller threw himself to the ground without warning, kicking up flower petals... and an earsplitting bang resounded throughout the forest. 

Goth's scarf, which had flown into the air from his momentum, now had a hole pierced through the end... right where his chest had been moments before.

Someone shot at Goth! Were they aiming to kill?

The small skeleton scrambled toward Palette's position, keeping low to the ground as he went. Palette opened his arms wide and the monster threw himself into the embrace with a shuddering exhale. 

Twigs snapping could be heard in the distance. Three armored men appeared from behind a tree roughly fifteen feet away. The artist's grip on his companion tightened as he glared at the trio to cover his fear.

The bad people found us.