All you can prompt

Whumpee is in front of them, entirely alive even after years upon years of being presumed dead. And it’s killing Leader inside, because, fuck, they’d given up.

Whumper had produced a concerning amount of evidence that truly made it look like Whumpee was dead. Hell, there was even a body that Leader didn’t want to know who it truly belonged to. The team had grieved and eventually moved on, accepting the lost and going forward with their lives.

When Caretaker had refused the answer that Whumpee was dead, the team knew this was grief taking ahold of them, and did whatever they could to try and help Caretaker do the same. They refused, not accepting any help, determined to find them despite there being no proof that Whumpee was breathing.

It was only because of that insistance, that blind hope that somehow, they’d survived, that Whumpee had made it out. The insistance that Leader had lost and promply tried to squeeze out of Caretaker. If they’d succeeded, if Caretaker had given up—

Leader knows Whumpee won’t blame them. Won’t take offense to the fact that the team had started to move on. In fact, they seemed almost saddened that Caretaker had spent years of their life doing nothing but searching.

But the guilt is indescribable. They should have done something, shouldn’t have just given up hope. Whumpee may very well have been home sooner with more hands and eyes looking for them. Away from Whumper and the torture they’ve undeniably been through.

While another character is taking care of them, they just lie there gazing at them. Every time caretaker comes to change their bandages or to help them eat, whumpee keeps looking at them intently. Caretaker is left to wonder what it means.

And only when whumpee is back on their feet again and when their hands don’t shake anymore do they paint caretaker’s portrait in secret from memory, using all the details they had observed during the long heavy hours that caretaker spent at their bedside. Whumpee thinks it’s the least they can do to thank them.

“I know what this looks like, but we can’t give up now.”

“We’ve come so far already.”

“If there is even a tiny chance that we could make it… We have to try.”

“There has to be another way.”

“Your optimism is going to be the death of us all.” “Maybe. But at least we won’t have to say that we gave up.”

“I refuse to accept this outcome.”

“Listen to me: If you give up now, it’ll all have been for nothing.”

“Don’t make me walk this road alone. Come with me.”

“As long as I’m still breathing, we are not giving up.”

“We’ve been through worse than this and came out in top. We can do it again.”

“You think I made it to this point by giving up easily? Hell no.”

Person B: "Every day seems to be the worst day of your life."

Person A: "It's gonna get better though."

Person B: "No it isn't."

they have been competing for so long that it had become the natural state of things: the other is the rival, not a fellow student. that is, until something happens to humanize them in some way

finding them crying behind the building

realizing they took up smoking again

they suddenly stopped showing up for class out of nowhere and no one knows anything

sickly appearance and voice lacking the energy and strength it used to have

defending them when a member of the faculty is being condescending / otherwise discriminates against them

finding them fishing food out of the trash or working a shitty night job to stay afloat

seeing them get ready to sleep in their car after losing their home

hidden injuries (classic)