hate speech and rollercoasters

• he does not know yet that he cannot win, but we do

• he will die just as he is redeemed (and if you start the narrative from the beginning you will have to watch it happen to him all over again. and you cannot stop it, or fix it. or warn him)

• he could try for decades to make up for what he did

• he usually does do that actually

• he tries not to let his feelings get in the way this time

• he hurts people in new and different ways because he’s trying not to hurt them in the old ways — that is, the ways he hurt them before. deeply, irreparably, and, as ever, unintentionally

• he cannot stop even once he knows he’s not going to succeed, or when he is — kind of. the privilege of that success will be given to someone else

• because of him; because it cannot happen without him

• he can never be the one to win, though

• he can only lose in an effort to help someone else

• he could run, or die without trying

1. whumpee that knows — but it doesn’t really matter

• “it’s not them, it’s not them, it’s not them…” runs on a desperate loop in whumpee’s mind. but it is their voice — gentle. tender. loving(ly scooping out whumpee’s insides with a spoon — probably not literally, but whump dealer’s choice 🤷‍♀️). it is their face, contorted in hateful glee at the wince their approach induces. and lastly, it is their hands, the memories of those digits tracing light, sensual trails over whumpee. that only happens on the worst nights now. the nights when whumpee is so far gone they can’t even remember that “it’s not them.”

• the double just appeared one day. two months after the funeral. and whumpee was so glad to see them again they didn’t even question it. they just ran to them, and clung so tightly they thought their arms might fall off. it was only after that whumpee wondered why the clone dug their nails in during the embrace, why the smile the clone gave was hollow and the sun didn’t catch their eyes the same way. “but they came back to you,” a shaky voice in the back of whumpee’s mind chokes out. “to you. who else would ever do that?” and so whumpee thanks the clone. again. and waited until they couldn’t stand it to ask for food. (they thought they made it a week. “really, honey? you can’t even go four days without food? what did i ever see in you?”)

2. whumpee that doesn’t know — (can change this however you like, but) the whumper clone has replaced caretaker in the middle of the night

• whumpee knows their partner inside and out. obviously. so they think they’re going crazy. at first, it’s little things, barely noticeable. maybe double wrinkles their nose at the taste of their favorite breakfast food made carefully by whumpee. “didn’t you used to be good at cooking?” the clone teases. somehow, it doesn’t feel like a joke. but it has to be, right? maybe their favorite movie changes, or they suddenly love a new genre of music. “sorry you’ve been feeling off, love. i picked up some of your favorite ice cream at the store,” whumpee offers. “what are you talking about?” whumper clone demands, a hint of disdain creeping into their voice, just enough to set whumpee’s teeth on edge. “that’s not my favorite, hun,” they continue, concern taking over their tone to better solidify their long con.

• “damnit whumpee, what do you mean you couldn’t do it?! you couldn’t do the one, singular thing i asked you to do?! i have always followed your lead, always! supported you, been a shoulder to cry on for as long as you’ve known me. so for once in your life, try not to be so unfailingly selfish!” the double is angry. again. they step forward calmly, looking rational as anything, seemingly brimming with quiet but justified pain and betrayal. whumpee steps back, tears welling beneath their lids. “i know, i’m sorry. i tried, really. i was trying! i am trying. so hard, all for you, all the time!” they implore the double, plead even. “you mean to tell me this was your best?” the clone steps forward once more, mocking a bit of shock and pouring on a whole lot of anger and hurt. “i— well, yes, i… i just couldn’t… couldn’t do it, i’m so sorry, whumper.” whumpee lets a single year fall. whumper walks over to the door: “you should go, whumpee,” the clone tells them, opening the door as if it pained them, while secretly getting off on the now broken sounds coming from whumpee. “i-i can’t deal with you like this anymore. now. leave!” the double’s voice shakes realistically, like they actually felt they had no other choice, that their partner had betrayed them to the point that they couldn’t stand to be in the same room with them, to sleep with them that night, to even look at them. but the shake was really hiding barely contained excitement at the sight of whumpee looking at them disbelievingly and slowly, heavily, resignedly, making their way out the door.