(( Mourn Me, Remember Me, or Fight Me. GB!Ralph-mun ))
That was one of the only coherent sentences that had left Turbo’s mouth since…the incident.
He would scream it, sob it, wail it until he was driven to despair. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that Ralph had never been coded into Sugar Rush. It wasn’t fair that characters who died for good outside their games left no remnants behind. It wasn’t fair that they hadn’t been able to have a proper funeral, or that Turbo was left with nothing that might help him come to terms with what had happened.
They were sad — everyone in the whole arcade was sad, it seemed, not that he’d been out there since it happened. But he knew that Vanny was sad, and the grown-ups, too. Felix had tried to come in once, to hold and comfort Turbo and tell him that things would be okay in the end, but Turbo had yanked away, shrieking one of the only other phrases that he’d been able to put together: “I want my papa!”
Please…I just want my papa.
But Papa wasn’t coming back ever again.
Not fair…not fair…not fair…
Ralph was gone, right when Turbo needed him the most. Now no one could console him after the horrible nightmares that deprived him of sleep every night. No one held him or soothed him during his crying fits. No one rubbed gentle circles on his back, whispering, “I’m here, champ…”
Papa, I’m sorry! I know I don’t deserve you…but I need you!
But it was always the same. And when Turbo finally tired himself out from crying, he would hug his pillows, barely able to speak in a sniffling whisper…