#petalbled

I’ve been caught off guard but I’ll try to write something coherent.

There’s some key differences between them though amazingly not too many. She’d still somewhat pessimistic and easily flustered but in particular she’s a lot calmer. She’s collected and composed most of the time and not as prone to an outburst if she’s being provoked but this is more so post war. She’s super chill post war.

During the war she was a lot different. Like her devil self she was never against using violence as a tool though unlike her devil counterpart she never would lay a hand on her angels and this is particularly because she doesn’t want them to fear her or leave her. Rather than blaming others during the war like Devil Kcalb did (excluding Etihw. He gets blamed a lot. She calls him the root of all her problems on more than one occasion.), she developed the horrible habit of blaming herself.

Defeat in battle? She didn’t plan far enough ahead.

Angels’ lives lost? She’s as guilty as the demons who slayed them.

Little sister who she loved dearly falls and becomes a demon? She wasn’t attentive enough.

She did something wrong. She made a mistake. It’s all her fault.

one

His hands are grasped tightly around Lilaea’s throat, a wild grin across his face as he watches her eyeballs roll into the back of her skull. The dust that comes with her temporary death is enough to make Gaster do a double-take, and in that moment, Batter sees how much hate a person can truly have. Their banter beforehand was always filled with insults, but now all he can see is bitterness and anger.

“This is what you deserve,” Batter insists. He dusts off his clothes. “She looked better with my hands around her throat. Wish you could’ve been there to see it.”

two

The life he’s living is not as stable as he wants it to be. The relationships he’s cultivated are falling apart before his eyes, and there’s no better person to take it out on than the one he feels he despises the most: Gaster.

The skeleton can put up a hell of a fight. He’s pierced through the chest multiple times, yet still he stands, laughing, grinning, bleeding—he feels alive and invincible, more than he has in a long, long time. It’s his way of begging for death, yet Gaster won’t even dare to give him that mercy. He lets him suffer, yet something about that act makes Batter curious: Is it possible that he’s just as miserable?

…

Maybe they aren’t so different after all. How disgusting.

three

Feeling out of place is nothing new for Batter, nor is feeling like he doesn’t really have a home.

Gaster was kind enough to let him stay over, but he’s, in his words, “not family.” Living at his house isn’t permanent by any means, no matter what Batter truly wants. He suspects that the skeleton still hates him, but it is what he deserves, isn’t it? What a wretched man he is. He has no reason to like Batter, not after all the shit that he’s pulled over the course of their rocky relationship.

Still.

He cares enough to listen when he’s having a panic attack at the grocery store. That’s something.

four

He’s been gone for a suspiciously long amount of time. It’s making Batter uncomfortable.

Just as they’re finally getting along, he disappears. He’s checked the lab, he’s checked the house, he’s checked the Underground three times over, yet there’s no sign of him. Nobody else seems to know what’s happened to him—what the hell can he do, really? Keep looking? He still has his number in his phone…

…

He’ll keep looking. Gaster couldn’t have gone far.

five

Gaster won’t leave.

He’s tired, worn, used, beaten, yet he won’t leave. The skeleton continually insists that Batter shouldn’t be here and to not come back, yet he’s too determined. There’s a way out, they can leave the King behind, he won’t have to find him, please believe him when he says that.

That’s just it, isn’t it? As much as he wants to believe Batter, he won’t.

Well.

It’s not like Batter isn’t used to abuse. He’ll give it a go, especially if it frees Gaster from this hell. The last visit is less of a visit and more of a switch—he grabs the man, pulls him out, and forces himself inside the horrible, horrible universe. Batter can see the fear in his eyes as he holds onto the door, realizing it may be the last time they’ll see each other.

He has so many things he wants to say.

…

“I’m sorry.”

The door is bolted shut.

one

The King is dead.

Is it considered a suicide if you technically killed yourself? Maybe. He feels just as dead inside, especially since he can’t seem to get into contact with Gaster. Nothing he does seems to reach him, and despite all the signs pointing to his death, Batter won’t accept it as being the truth. He has to be out there.

… Right?

The one time he decides to sit among the echo flowers, he starts to realize how improbable it is that Gaster is even alive. The King did a number on him, and even though he has no idea what actually transpired, he can take a guess. He wrings his hands, listening to the voices of various monsters that have come by, thinking nothing of them.

That is, until a familiar voice comes to him.

Batter can’t even believe it at first. It has to be a fluke, it couldn’t be him.

Who else speaks in Wingdings besides him, though?

He stays close to the flower for some time, trying his best to stay quiet and repeatedly listen to a voice of a man he thought was dead. He never thought he’d hear such a lovely voice again, especially after their last encounter. God knows how much he regrets keeping his mouth shut during what he thought was their final moment together.

Jesus Christ.

one

Trying to sleep on Gaster’s couch has been unsuccessful so far. How long has he been here? A month? He should be able to handle this sort of thing by now. He’s slept on the cold hard ground before, for Christ’s sake. Without thinking, Batter takes his flip phone out of his pocket, flipping it open and nearly texting and asking the skeleton if he could sleep in his bed.

No.

No, that’s stupid.

He closes it, trying to change his position on the couch instead.

two

Batter doesn’t usually stray too far from home, but today, he’s aboveground.

He’s not picky about where he goes—his aimless wanderings have led him to some unsavory places, but usually, they’re nothing exciting. Today, however, he finds himself among a field of flowers. It’s not somewhere he’d usually like to be, but Gaster would like this, wouldn’t he?

… It’d be stupid to text him about that. He wouldn’t care.

Still, it doesn’t hurt to take a flower along, just in case Gaster decides to return home. If not, no harm done.

three

The phone is flipped open, Gaster’s name accompanied by an empty text message. His brain’s running a mile a minute—the past has been torn open like a bad wound, a nightmare reminding him of a particular event he wish he could forget. His thumbs hover over the keypad, and slowly, he begins typing:

“can i talk to you about someth”

He cuts himself off, backspacing what he wrote and flipping it closed. Thank god it’s a brick of a phone—throwing it to the ground would’ve broken any other phone’s screen.

four

The mafia room feels empty without him.

Is it possible to text and ask him to come over? Just a simple “hey, i feel out of place, come over”?

He’s much too busy. Maybe another time.

five

Batter breathes heavily, hand on his chest as he tries to regain whatever composure he’s lost. He didn’t want it, he didn’t want it, he didn’t want it, why the hell did she do that, why the hell did she lock and close that closet, why the hell is everyone just watching it happen, did he really deserve it, does he deserve it, does he, does he, DOES HE—

“plee a s e he lp  me he lp talk  to m”

Stupid, stupid, stupid, he won’t talk to you, he won’t listen.

You deserve it.

Put the phone away and enjoy yourself, you prude.

one

It’s been a while since Gaster’s come home. More than a week, in fact. Not like he’s keeping count or anything.

Batter tries to make more coffee, but realizes he’s used up all the grinds. It’s the skeleton’s fault for never being there. He spends all his time trying to stay awake, and he goes through every single ounce of coffee that he buys. A coffee maker has never seen such use.

“hey, you need more coffee, do you want me to buy it? do you want anything else from the store?”

Maybe there’s more he could say.

… No.