Henry Stickmin Oneshots And More!

No One Was Coming (Angst)

Haha, angst. Let's go.

This is after the Revenged ending, when the airship crashes into the rocket. What if someone survived?

Hope y'all have a wonderful day/night, and I'll catch y'all later!

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Sven walked through the wreckage, coughing as he inhaled smoke. His eyes stung, though whether it was from tears or clouds of dust he couldn't tell.

He caught a glimpse of a familiar green hat and curly orange hair, and knelt down next to the Leprechaun, who was half-buried underneath a large chunk of debris.

Leprechaun's eyes were wide and glazed over, but Sven didn't register it as he checked for a pulse.

None.

Sven sat back on his heels, a choked sob escaping his lips as he gently closed the Leprechaun's eyes. He wished he could do something, turn back time and save everyone. But he couldn't. 

He had to keep moving.

Mumbling a quick apology, Sven stumbled to his feet and kept going. He had to look for survivors. Somebody had to still be alive, right? If he was, so could others.

But deep in his heart, Sven knew no one else could have survived. He wanted to say it was a fluke he'd lived, but it wasn't. 

It was only because of an either very brave or very stupid liaison's actions he was alive.

Sven sat in the pilot's seat of the rocket, nursing a cup of coffee as he stared out the window, watching the Toppats finish their last preparations. They were so far away he could barely see any of them.

He was somewhat in shock. Finally, after years of planning and months of building, it was over. The Toppat orbital station was finished.

The rocket was Sven's pride and joy. He'd designed it almost entirely from scratch and overseen every inch of the building. He could say, speaking completely honestly and without bragging, he'd made this miracle happen. Years of effort, of planning, of scrapping and redesigning, of sleepless nights and coffee.

And it was all worth it, to be here, sitting in the cockpit, watching with mild shock. All they needed now was the airship division to show up and they'd be loaded up and in space.

The airship division... he'd be able to see dad and pappa again. These years he'd spent on the rocket had required him to be apart from the main division of Toppats. But now he could see them again!

Sven glanced up as Burt walked into the cockpit, holding a cup of coffee of his own. The Head of Communications stood next to him, leaning against the pilot seat as he sipped the bitter drink.

"Well," Burt said, "you did it."

Sven nodded, smiling. "I did."

"Your dads will be proud," Burt sipped his coffee. "I know I am."

Sven grinned at the mention of his dads. "They will, won't they?" Part of him felt like a kid again, excited to show his parents something he'd worked hard on. Part of him would always be that kid, innocent and smiling.

Burt glanced out the window. "I think that's the airship now, actually. They're a bit early. Must want to see you again, huh?"

Sven looked in the direction Burt was, then glanced at him. "Wanna go down and meet them at the landing dock?"

"I think they would be disappointed if we didn't." Burt held out a hand, and Sven took it, pulling himself up.

Sven started walking away, excited to see Reg and Wright again, when suddenly Burt tackled him from behind.

"What are you-!" Sven started.

Then the world exploded.

Sven didn't know what had happened next, except there was a lot of glass and debris and noise and blood but it wasn't his and Burt had fallen asleep except he wasn't asleep he was dead and Sven was alive because Burt had taken all of the damage and saved him.

He shook his head. No time to think about that. He had to keep moving, otherwise he knew he would never get going again.

Sven stumbled through the wreckage, tripping and scraping his hands and knees multiple times. He didn't even notice any pain as he continued blindly, occasionally coughing violently as the smoke got into this lungs.

He was sure by now no one else had survived. He-

 He was the last.

Sven was sadly getting used to seeing the mangled, bloody remains of his Clanmates. Each one he saw, he remembered small, happy moments that he'd had with them. Maybe it was sharing a joke as they relaxed in the lounge. Maybe it was a small encouraging word, a simple good job or keep up the good work. Maybe it was a full-scale recreation of Hamilton or Dear Evan Hansen, literally recreating an entire musical with the Toppats. Whatever happy memories Sven had made, he remembered.

The Toppats were more than criminals, more than colleagues. They were a family, and no one could ever tear them apart.

The worst shock Sven had was seeing Reginald's body.

No, no no no nonono!

Sven scrambled through the debris and fell to his knees next to his father's unseeing form. Reginald couldn't be dead! Not him! Other people maybe, but Reginald and Wright were above that! They were-

They were dead.

Sven hugged himself, crying. No, no no no. This was all just a cruel nightmare, right? He'd wake up, and Burt would make a sarcastic comment and Reg would ruffle his hair and grin and Wright would yell at Reg to help make breakfast and they'd all celebrate launching the rocket successfully. None of this could possibly be real.

Sven felt like a child again, lost and scared of all of the gunshots and fighting happening outside.

But last time, dad and pappa had come for him, speaking an odd, slow language that sounded silly, like gibberish. They'd comforted him, then taken him home.

But no one was coming this time. This was really real.

Sven was alone.