Archive of Our Own

The oars cut through the water, sending ripples through the deep blue glass of the sea. Bad was bent over the edge, peering down curiously, ears perked forward and tail swishing across the boards. He chirped whenever the shadow of a fish swam by, earning a giggle from Skeppy. The sea stretched out before them, an endless and dizzying expanse. It would be frightening if they didn’t know where they were headed and what they had left behind. Or, what Bad had left behind at least; Skeppy had been staying on their island for a while already. He hadn’t really left anything behind in L’manburg after everything that had happened. Only the mansion being left there made him stop on the shores and truly ache.

The home he had built with his own hands for him and Bad, with so many memories and loving moments gathered up inside, could never follow them. He was about to leave all those memories behind to rot away and crumble into dust, unbeknownst to Bad. 

That part hurt. 

What if Bad had left something behind that he could never hope to get now just because Skeppy never told him the truth? All of Skeppy’s hard and loving work, crafted and planned to house and nurture their growing relationship, was now symbolism for nothing. This wasn’t the end he had ever imagined for their home. He had imagined it standing for centuries more. 

A school of fish swam around them, perking Bad up. Skeppy let them stay in a circle for a bit while Bad watched them. The crystalian leaned back against the boat as he let the fish entertain the demon. Skeppy sucked in a shuddering breath at the sight of Bad’s bag clutched tight to his chest and looked down at his own packs that he had dumped on the boat flooring. The soles of his shoes scraped against the sloppily sanded boards as he shuffled a bit. Bad looked up at the sound and Skeppy smiled at him. The demon smiled back and sat properly on the bench again. He glanced behind him where L’manburg had long disappeared and bit the tip of his talons in worry. 

Skeppy began rowing again once he made sure they were pointed in the right direction. 

He tried to remember how they had gotten here, rowing away from the end of the world.

***

Skeppy had sat at the docks for a long time after Bad’s death. The sun had fully risen by the time he looked up from the remains of Bad’s body, red faced and gasping for breath as he squinted into the sunlight. The memory of Bad’s silhouette against the sun and just how beaten and bloodied the demon had looked dragged out another scream from his throat as he clutched his chest, the diamond sword he had used thrown far away from him. The mere sight of it made him retch. He felt that maybe Bad had sensed they could not stay there in that moment forever. The anticipation had hung over them both; the longing that could not yet be soothed. 

Skeppy had watched the blood that had drizzled from the demon’s wound run down his arm to the fingertips, dripping and leaking out into the ocean waves that sloshed and beat against the wooden beams in a murky haze. Watching that and hiccupping with a terrified gaze, Skeppy decided then that he would do whatever possible to never have anything come between them again, even if he wasn’t sure Bad would come back. 

And Bad didn’t come back; not for days that soon stretched into weeks. Skeppy couldn’t blame him, and he was too afraid to go back to L’manburg to seek the demon out himself. One day he wouldn’t be, but for now each memory of the egg was too raw and real to face the city again. 

He worried over how Bad was fairing, of him having to wake up from respawn alone after that, but Skeppy trusted to the best of his ability that at least Bad’s friends would keep him away from the egg. More than anything, he found relief in the fact that Bad was free. For how horrible carving through his chest had been, Bad was free. Skeppy pictured Bad standing amid the steps of their mansion, blinking into the sun and free of a voice in his head with the knowledge that they were both free. The image eased his chest, and for a moment it felt alright.

(He couldn’t trust it till he saw it.) 

Skeppy knelt on his bed and peered out the windows to the ocean, scanning the empty horizon for even a speck. His eyes reluctantly wandered over to the sword he knew lay in the chest just nearby. He gagged at the memory of blood, Bad’s blood, slick against his hands and chest, and of how it nearly made him slip when he tried to get up from the dock, his arms now empty of even a body. 

The idea of them ever seeing each other seemed so far away now. 

He wanted Bad back, but didn’t know if he should or if he could handle it; it had been the span of two years since either had been themselves and together, after all. When Skeppy had first respawned from his death, he hadn’t remembered much about his time under the egg. He’d been lost and confused, wondering where Bad was and why he was alone. He remained alone on the island for a few weeks, the memories slowly coming back. Suddenly it made sense why he had burn marks spread across his face and legs. Now Skeppy was almost afraid of what would happen if they were to be together again.

Perhaps it was noon one Friday when he heard a soft knock at the door. The sound made his heart leap to his throat so fast he almost choked on it as he stared. His eyes tore from the door to the dock, and there against the planks was a boat, tied and secure. 

He rushed forward and opened it, bracing himself against the doorframe. Bad stood there on the other side, frozen and unsure, white eyes caught on the crystalian’s face. Skeppy could hardly breathe either. 

 “Hi, ‘Geppy,” Bad whispered. 

With just those soft words, the tension broke, crumbling in relief. 

Skeppy let out a sob that was mixed with laughter and rushed forward, engulfed and surrounded by Bad’s arms, pressed tight against his chest. His head spun as he laughed breathlessly, and he knew that this was true confirmation of his forgiveness to Bad:

A thousand times over, yes, I forgive you.

He could have been angry over his death at Bad’s hands, and he could have hated the demon for what had happened to them, but he felt nothing but relief that it was over, that he was finally free of a nightmare. He didn’t want to acknowledge any of the complicated well of emotions. Maybe it wasn’t good to not talk about it, the it of the past, but Skeppy didn’t care. 

Talking about it would mean that they weren’t alright, that something within them had been broken. But not talking about it meant they could still fit back together seamlessly. Skeppy didn’t want to remember that he had been held and smothered within his own mind, burned and corrupted, used and dulled from his entire being. He didn’t want to make Bad feel even guiltier if they talked. There was so much he just… didn’t want to recall and comprehend. Living in denial was a much better prospect. 

Besides, at the end of the day, the only thing that mattered was that they were here now. He had Bad in his arms again, and he wasn’t letting go. 

Apparently, not talking about anything proved to be an easy task. All Skeppy had to do was kiss Bad on the tip of his nose and reassure him that he never meant anything his corrupted self had spat and that he would never leave the demon’s side again. All Bad had to do was smile a watering smile of relief and repeat the same love and assurance for Skeppy to melt. He held Bad’s face as he said those words, the other’s arms wrapped loosely around him, and everything felt right. Fragile, but right. 

How tender they could be to each other, Skeppy began to realize. How gentle Bad was to him, so different from the Emperor many had seen. His touches were gentle and light against the crystalian’s skin, eyes so soft when they looked at him that Skeppy felt he could melt under their gaze.

Bad would kiss his scars each morning, and even on the days when Skeppy hated the sweet honeyed words the demon gave him, he craved them, leaning into the touch Bad’s hands and lips gave. He wanted it even when he told himself he didn’t. Bad knew Skeppy did not like the scars, seeing only how they marred and ruined his face, and Bad himself carried heavy guilt for causing them, but he held enough love for them both. 

“You’re beautiful, Skeppy. Don’t ever try and convince yourself otherwise,” Bad smiled.

Oh how Skeppy’s heart ached with love for the demon. How could he have ever once dared to hate him? His heart felt twisted whenever Bad apologized to him in the quiet of the night, desperate words pressed into his shoulder, never quite sure how he felt about them. Regardless though, Skeppy would try to not be shy about his love either. The kisses he peppered to Bad’s cheeks and brow would never be enough in comparison to what he had said under the egg. The shyness Bad held whenever he wanted to reach out for even just a hug or to hang out was asked with tentative air ready for rejection that made Skeppy want to scream. 

I love you, I love you, I love you! He wished to shout to the moon, to Bad. His soul bonded. I love you, and I’d never wish to hurt you. 

He never said those words aloud; he only smiled and told Bad “of course” to a hug or a walk outside. (Of course I’d never reject you. I love you, even if I don’t know how to prove it yet.)  

Skeppy wished that just his love alone was enough to banish the bags beneath Bad’s eyes and the weight that held down his shoulders. He knew Bad looked at him and thought the same. But Skeppy was so relieved he could at least do something now! He could hold Bad in his arms and touch his cheeks, running his fingers through his fur. He could wake up with Bad at his side and feel safe, like they were finally home.

Safe knowing Bad could not be taken because they were here and now and loved. (Safe, because he had saved Bad from the egg.)

Sure, there was the fact that home was shared by a few of Bad’s imaginary friends at times; Skeppy had, in fact, been thoroughly terrified of them the first time Bad mentioned them with a beaming smile. 

“I met someone today,” he had said, crouched down before the crystalian. 

And Skeppy had frowned, studying Bad’s expression. 

“Oh yeah? Who?” 

“Mmm, I don’t know. I just met them,” Bad shrugged. “They come and go sometimes.” 

Skeppy hadn’t known what to say to that then. Now he knew what they were all too well, to the point that he could almost feel their presences in the shadows on the walls. And Skeppy wasn’t made or prepared for something like this! He hadn’t been ready to see Bad like this, to have these parts of the demon’s inner self presented so forwardly. He hated the way some of them made Bad burst into tears, whereupon he would shrink like a child into Skeppy’s embrace. 

“It’s watching me in the corner,” Bad would say, his voice muffled from where his head was ducked into Skeppy’s chest, hiding his nose in the hoodie’s folds. 

“What’s it saying?” 

Bad held Skeppy tightly and shrugged.

“Nothing.”

Somehow, that was worse than something.

Skeppy glanced to the corner Bad had weakly pointed to and slowly scooted them away from it. He kissed Bad’s forehead and then lifted up his face, kissing beneath a tear stained eye. He smiled and said softly like he did every time now,

“It’s not real, Bad. It’s just your imagination.”

The demon hiccupped at the words but nodded before rushing back into the crystalian’s embrace. Skeppy wished there was more he could tell him.

And most of all Skeppy despised the him of Bad’s imagination; the him that was made of rubies instead of diamond with a smile that dripped of lava; a Skeppy that sneered and took delight in plucking away any happy moment from Bad’s hands at any time. 

There wasn’t a worse feeling than knowing that he had made himself into a delusion that caused Bad to cry. Skeppy had been a pawn used only to lure Bad back into the egg, and he had been used well. If only he could tear through the walls of this home and scream until his lungs were ribbon, then maybe he would no longer feel this awful suffocation of guilt and invalidation. There were so many faceless friends that filled the void in Bad’s life whenever he began to feel hopelessly distant from the crystalian, when Skeppy wanted it to be just them: two against the world. 

They were in this together. 

He hoped to remind Bad of that whenever he was up early in the morning, tracing shapes into the sleeping figure of Bad along his back and against the lingering veins from vines that crawled from his chest up to his cheeks. He hoped Bad knew that whenever he wrapped himself around the demon’s back at night so that Bad felt safe, fitting his nose at the nape of Bad’s neck, timing his breaths to the rise and fall of the demon’s own. 

Skeppy let himself fall asleep to the gentle rhythm of Bad’s purrs, the sound that soothed all nightmares and lingering tensions behind his mind, rumbling against his chest. The purrs were a reminder of past better, gentler, days that made him want to curl up even more against Bad and just simply cry. The sound of water gently sloshing against the shores reminded him of blood against the docks, so sometimes crying was exactly what he did. Bad purred rhythmically, gentle and soft through it all until Skeppy eventually dropped into sleep.

And Skeppy purposefully did not think of the dawn’s where he would startle awake, alone in bed because Bad had chased after a delusion and gotten forgetful and lost. He did not think of the feeling of dread that crawled to his feet and threatened to pull him away, deep inside the maw of his own mind. He thought only of Bad and the warmth he radiated in the cool weather of fall and that this right here was okay. 

Perfect, even.

The ocean beat blood against the home at high tide, a murky mockery to what they’d become. 

Bad cooking dinner was one of Skeppy’s favorite part of the day, even when it was just simply seeing Bad at the kitchen counter with his glasses at the tip of his nose as he flipped through the recipe book and rolled out dough. It was such a wonderful and domestic feeling that Skeppy could almost forget everything. Whenever Bad sat at the table taking out the seeds of cherries for fried pies, Skeppy placed his chin on Bad’s shoulder and draped over him, Bad either scolding him to do something productive or simply allowing him to be there. 

“Hi,” Bad giggled, head tipping up to Skeppy’s own. 

“Hello,” Skeppy greeted, fingers cupped and soft against Bad’s cheeks. 

Scrunched white eyes smiled up at him, so genuine and happy, but never again innocent. Skeppy was so caught up in looking down at milky eyes, lost in thought, that he jumped when Bad startled him with a sudden kiss, the demon sitting back up with a cackle.

“Got you!” 

“Muffin,” Skeppy scoffed.

Bad just gave him a cheeky grin, forked tongue sticking out between his teeth. 

In the smells of baking dough and spiced food, Skeppy realized just how much he’d do to keep these small golden moments here and forever. He stood back for a moment before slowly inching forward and placing his chin on Bad’s shoulder. This time the demon didn’t say a thing about it. Skeppy didn’t mind that. He closed his eyes, and after long stretching minutes later, gentle fingers brushed across his scars, a soft kiss placed at his temple. Gentle and sweet, so unlike the demon’s appearance. 

Skeppy would do anything to keep this. 

Anything to keep them from being hurt, from Bad being taken away again. He wasn’t a fool; as naïve as he wished to be, he knew that even now Bad was vulnerable. This was moments away from slipping through their fingers, and it would be so easy for it to break apart again.

He held on tight and buried his nose into the crook of Bad’s neck, the demon humming softly. This moment and a thousand others after would always be theirs. 

Just theirs. 

Skeppy could easily fool himself into believing that everything about their time on the island was normal. There were sudden and unwelcomed reminders that it wasn’t.

In the lantern light they sat on the edge of the bed in silence, Skeppy’s arm wrapped tightly around the demon’s shoulder. Bad looked miserably at the ground, pressing himself flush to Skeppy’s side.

“I want to go back home,” he whispered, barely heard in the night.

“I know.”

Oh did Skeppy know. Bad could often get mistaken as an introvert, but he loved nothing more than to be surrounded by the people he loved, to be outside and play pranks while squabbling with the gods next door. Skeppy knew that Bad would only get his heart broken if he went back though. 

“...Why can’t we then?” 

Skeppy opened his mouth but found himself unable to say anything. He felt shame, suddenly, and it made his cheeks burn. 

He scowled at himself before saying,

“I don’t… I don’t feel safe going back yet. Not just for me-- I mean it is a bit of that-- but mainly for- for you. I don’t feel safe with you going so close to it again.” 

I’m scared. I am so scared for you, Bad.  

Bad felt tears welling up in his eyes, and he gave the slightest hiccup, only caught by the hitch in his breath. 

“You’re right. I know,” he managed, squeezing Skeppy’s hand tightly. 

“‘course I am,” Skeppy murmured softly, leaning his head against Bad’s.

The demon traced a line across the crystalian’s knuckles, breathing shakily.

“Skeppy?” 

“Yeah?”

“I’m-- I’m hearing something. It won’t stop talking to me,” he whispered tightly, hoarse and on the verge of crying. “I don’t know what to do.”

Skeppy paused, and now Bad definitely was crying, silent tears pouring down his face and shaking his body, his little hiccups and keens smothered tightly. 

“Bad,” Skeppy whispered.

The demon reluctantly dragged his eyes towards him, but was still looking down.

“It’s not real. It’s just you and me,” he said softly.

The words didn’t help in the slightest. They never really had. Bad let out a loud and abrupt sob, hunched into himself and pressed tightly against the crystalian. 

Then are you real? Bad begged himself to ask. 

He could never tell. 

“Just you,” he echoed back brokenly, even when he could feel a tug against his mind, an insistent whisper, a beg.  

Just come back to me. 

Skeppy pulled him into a hug and Bad clung to him, sobbing into his shoulder, white eyes staring out the door as he held on tightly. 

I can’t save you, Bad. 

I don’t know how. 

“Stay with me, please,” Bad pleaded. I’m afraid to be alone right now. 

“I’m not leaving,” Skeppy whispered, the words brushing gently against Bad’s fur. 

“You’re going to leave,” he replied brokenly. “I know you are.” 

“No,” Skeppy said firmly. “No, not ever.” 

Only indecipherable words spilled from Bad’s lips now, but Skeppy could tell they were all things that had been bottled up and so well hidden away that the crystalian hadn’t been able to notice until now. So he promised not to leave. He promised it would be okay, and the words were empty. Bad heaved, spilling over and crumbling apart. Skeppy tried his best to hold him together, but he was crying now as well. 

“I want it out of my head!” Bad sobbed again, and it turned into a frightening ramble as Skeppy cradled him close. “Please just leave me alone, please don’t let me be alone.”

“Just listen to me right now, Bad,” Skeppy whispered softly, as gently as he could stand to be. “You don’t have to listen to it. I’ll tell you a story.”

Bad hiccupped, but his rambles had stopped, and he was listening. Skeppy began a mindless recollection of one of his travels, a time before he had met the demon.  

And still, Skeppy couldn’t do a thing to remove the whispers and the fear.

I can’t save you, Bad. 

I’m so sorry.  

Skeppy looked back at Bad as he got ready for bed, the demon staring down at his hands, his ears pinned back. Skeppy sighed at Bad’s limp figure in the bathroom mirror and turned to look back at him. 

“Come on and get ready for bed, Bad. Doing something may help distract you.”

Bad shook his head.

“I can’t,” he choked out.

“Why not?”

“It’s- it’s talking to me. And I can’t ignore it.”

Skeppy felt an overwhelming presence wrapping around them, settling deep into the boards of their home. It waited and breathed to its own pulse, its sighs warm and familiar. 

“Is it telling you not to help?” Skeppy asked softly. 

Bad parted his lips, but nothing came out, the presence suffocating now, heavier on his shoulders more than anyone else’s. 

“I- I can’t say,” he explained brokenly. “I can’t say.” 

The dark of their home swam, and the shadows lapped at their feet. Skeppy pushed away from the bathroom sink and Bad’s eyes followed him as he sat down next to him. Bad’s ears dropped, but they were no longer pinned, his gaze falling to Skeppy’s hand, the edges charred and peeled. Skeppy nudged him. 

“Hey. You’re not alone, okay? Stay with me. I’m here,” he reminded gently.

Bad took a deep breath and nodded. His tail wrapped tightly around his leg as Skeppy hooked his arm around Bad’s, lacing their fingers together. Bad steadied out his breathing even though it still trembled and smiled weakly, tiredly resting his head on Skeppy’s shoulder. He closed his eyes, turning to hide his face in the crystalian’s shoulder. Skeppy hummed, tipping his head on Bad’s. The demon felt the darkness cling to him, a pulling and teasing force that made him wince. He let out a heavy breath that trembled and sank deeper into Skeppy as he wrapped his arms around his waist, both eventually falling down onto the mattress. 

It no longer felt safe to be here, but as they lay in bed together, he smiled reassuringly at Bad, as if the shifting shadows were not there. Bad smiled back, knowing that his mind was filled with far more twisting forms than Skeppy’s. 

“It’ll be better in the morning,” Skeppy whispered. 

Bad closed his eyes and nodded. Skeppy shifted an arm beneath the demon’s back and over his waist so he could hold him close. He hooked his leg around Bad’s so that they were entangled around the other, safe and protected. He smiled when Bad’s tail wrapped around his ankle.

As Bad’s breath deepened into sleep, Skeppy counted each beat of his heart, looking up to the stars and their slow and steady shift across the sky. 

At the crux of night Skeppy snuck out, cold and trembling fingers gripping the roughly sanded oars. The breath he exhaled formed clouds in the cool autumn air. The dark was still and stiffening, the sea frighteningly smooth, something he was afraid to disturb. He looked at their home for just a moment where he knew Bad still slept before sucking in a deep breath and pushing away. 

He drifted out to sea. 

The stars reflected off of the clear waters below, rippling with each tireless heave he gave, the oars a rhythmic and hypnotizing splash beneath and above the waves. His breath became heavier the longer he rowed, his chest suffocating with fright. And yet he still went, without a hint of hesitation. 

I want to make a deal, Skeppy recited in his head. I want to make a deal so that you do not hurt him again, and because I don’t want to hurt or lose him again. 

He let out a hysteric sob into the silence, alone and so, so frightened. He was on the verge of losing everything, and this time he wasn’t sure he could get it back. It was only by pure chance that Bad had come back to him after the banquet. It was pure chance that after everything had failed, the demon came running back to him, broken and beaten. If that hadn’t happened, Bad could have run away and disappeared from history.

The great emperor, never seen again. 

Skeppy hit the shores. He jerked forward from the impact. L’manburg was as still and silent as ever. A ticking time bomb. He reached forward, clear sky becoming cobblestone and red vines, and suddenly his fear was overrun by anger and desperation, a disgusted hatred curling itself within his veins once more. 

“I’ve come to make a deal.” 

And the egg laughed, roaring with amusement that shook the halls.

“Are you alright Skeppy?” Bad asked. 

He was curled up against Skeppy’s back while the crystalian sat on their bed, fixing his crossbow that had jammed. 

“Yeah. Why?” 

Bad picked at the threads of their bedsheets. He shrugged. 

“You’ve just been… gone a lot lately. I don’t know where you go. A- and you seem…” 

Angrier. Easier to snap or walk away. 

Bad didn’t finish that sentence. Half of him regretted even starting it. He was worried. Worried that Skeppy would leave, worried that something had happened to him, worried about so many different little things. Skeppy hesitated as well, hands working absentmindedly with the bow. 

“I don’t go far, Bad.” 

“I know. But I don’t know when you’ll come back. Or- or why you even go.”

“It’s just hunting.” 

Bad’s gaze dropped to the space between them, threading a talon through a loose thread in the sheets. 

“Do you not trust me anymore?” he whispered. 

Skeppy didn’t know the answer to that. 

“Of course I do,” he frowned, pulling at the string of the bow. “I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

Bad laughed nervously.

“That just makes me even more worried, Skeppy,” he said uncertainly. “I don’t want you to get hurt or anything.”

Skeppy bit his lip, his expression twisting.

“Don’t be worried. Just…” 

He hesitated, sharp tears pricking the corners of his vision. He collapsed against Bad’s chest, the demon letting out a startled little noise at the sudden motion. Skeppy turned his head to the crook of Bad’s neck. He simply let himself just breathe for a moment, picking up Bad’s hand and curling the fingers around his own. Bad held it gladly and let Skeppy lay it across his chest. 

“Just promise me one thing?” Skeppy asked. 

Bad nuzzled his nose into the fluff of the crystalian’s hair, tail draped across his legs.

“Okay?” 

Skeppy squeezed Bad’s hand and stared out the window, tracing the structure of Bad’s thumb. He took a moment, collecting and thinking over his words carefully. 

“Stay away from the egg, please. Whatever you do, whatever happens… don’t go back to it. …Please.”

He felt the demon frown. Bad paused. 

“...Skeppy, what brought this up?”

The question was valid; Skeppy had broken the one rule of never talking about it. That was their thing, they never talk about it, the egg, their life’s breaking point. They never brought it up because ignorance was bliss. This paradise, this island detached from the past, was bliss. It was isolated from everything. And Skeppy could never, ever, think of telling Bad what he had done to keep him safe. 

“I- I don’t know,” Skeppy choked out, his face reddening with tears. “You just have to promise.” 

Bad didn’t reply immediately. Skeppy squeezed his hand crushingly tight, finding it hard to breathe as he waited. After a frightening moment Bad’s lips grazed his cheek with the ghost of a kiss, his breath making the crystalian shiver. 

“Okay. I promise,” he whispered. 

His smile was sad as he looked down at Skeppy, and the crystalian let out a shuddering breath, his tears almost spilling over at the sight. He stayed like that for just a minute longer, slumped against Bad’s lap. Bad tried to relax him with purrs and gentle hums and little nuzzles to his neck. Skeppy humored the demon with weak smiles in return. 

The promise was weak, but he couldn’t risk anything. It was enough just hearing Bad promise it aloud. Even saying the slightest thing hinting towards his deal with the egg relieved a bit of the weight off his chest. As scared as Skeppy was of Bad ever going back to the egg, whatever the circumstances, he hoped that what he was doing for it would be enough for it to leave the demon alone. 

Maybe Skeppy was foolish for trusting in the egg so much, but… the egg’s word was all he had. It was all he had left in order to secure Bad’s freedom. If Skeppy didn’t go to the source of Bad’s suffering itself, an unbeatable thing, then he might as well just hand the demon over to it because unless confronted, it would only thoughtlessly take him back. At least this way Skeppy was actively doing something useful. The egg was a powerful entity, and despite what evil it had done, a liar did not seem to be one of the things it was. 

Skeppy lifted his and Bad’s hands into the sunlight and observed their intertwined fingers. 

For three weeks now he had snuck out and taken half the night to row out to L’manburg, leaving Bad little notes saying: I’ve gone mining! or Just going out to find some more food. During the other half of the night he’d take the seeds he was given and plant them all over the city, sowing and cultivating them to perfection. He’d fabricate the evidence the egg told him to make and then take them to where he was told to place them. He took his pickaxe and pulled away at stone and slowly made his way through Puffy’s home to the egg, leaving behind a trail of seeds as he went.

Everything about the plan was simple, except for the tunnel through Puffy’s house. But even that he found himself in no true danger of. The egg was a warm and heavy reassurance, always congratulating him on his work, the things he crafted, and giving him warnings whenever someone was close by. As if, despite the fact that Skeppy had agreed he’d hand his friends over to the egg (after a great length of thought of course), everything was alright. 

It was funny; Skeppy thought he’d feel more guilt over the deal he’d made. He was, after all, the one who came up with the idea to trick them into killing each other around the egg, instead of doing the arduous task Bad had attempted by killing them himself. Skeppy thought maybe he’d be kept awake at night with the weight of his choices and miserable when awake. But he didn’t feel anything. There was only resignation and bitter determination. 

He wondered if this was how Bad had felt. The only difference now was that Bad had had a far too ambitious plan that relied too heavily on time and compliance, and one with too many potential branching paths and options. Skeppy, though, had a straight path. The egg knew what to do because it knew them all, inside and out by now. It was simple and so, so easy. No empires necessary. 

(The only difference now was that Skeppy was of his own freewill. Bad at least had the excuse of otherwise. But he had to do this, there wasn’t any other way! He had no other guarantee that Bad would be okay.)

Skeppy stretched their arms out, holding his and Bad’s hands against the noon sun, sinking deeper into Bad’s hold. The demon nuzzled him, his smile soft against the rough burns on his face. 

Bad would probably hate him for this. He’d be broken, but it was Bad who would understand best. And he would understand, Skeppy knew that. Not now, but soon. Just… whenever he told him. Bad would be heartbroken and terrified that Skeppy had gone back and done what he had, but he would understand. 

Don’t go to L’manburg, Skeppy wished to make him promise. Don’t ever leave me again, please.

He didn’t. He only sighed in the silence and wrapped Bad’s arms around him, letting his eyes fall shut into nothingness.

***

And now they were rowing away from L’manburg, almost to the shore of their island again. Bad nervously fiddled with the straps of his bag. Maybe he could sense that something was wrong. Skeppy wished that he’d stop looking over his shoulder. It made him even more anxious. 

“Bad,” he said.

The demon snapped his gaze over to him. 

Skeppy hesitated. He didn’t know why he had called Bad’s name.

“...I love you,” he decided, a weary smile on his lips. 

Bad smiled.

“I love you more,” he boasted proudly, tail wagging against the bench.

“Oh, so now it’s a competition,” Skeppy exclaimed. 

“Nope! I just do.” 

Skeppy shrugged, smiling.

“Alright, I can live with that.” 

He pushed the boat across the sand in shallow waters, hopping onto the dock and taking all the stuff Bad handed to him. Each pack felt like a heavier weight against his heart. There really was no going back from this, was there? But he had Bad. Just barely he had managed to keep him, pulling him away from lingering red vines and holding him tight against his side. He knew that he had probably weirded Bad out with his clinginess, but the demon evidently decided not to question it. 

He had been restless as Bad insisted on stopping to talk with friends, and Skeppy did his best not to rush the conversations, seeing something unnatural and distrusting in their eyes. He hadn’t realized how disillusioned they, too, had become. 

He had squeezed Bad’s hand tightly as they walked to the mansion, the spread of vines a presence looming over him. Bad smiled at him reassuringly, and Skeppy couldn’t return it. He felt like dying whenever Bad wondered how the foliage could have returned so swiftly and abundantly. He kept the demon in his sights at the mansion and nearly tugged Bad’s arm out of socket on their way back to the docks. The presence of the egg was heavy on his shoulders. 

They were home now, though, and that’s what mattered. 

When all their bags were out, Bad hopped from the boat and dragged it to shore, crabs scurrying away. Skeppy let out a deep breath and stood by Bad’s side. He looked at the horizon and interlaced his fingers with the demon’s. Bad squeezed his hand tightly in response. Skeppy smiled down at the sand. The hand Bad held had pushed one of their oldest friends down to a monster and left her mind to melt, alone, angry, and frightened. The hand Skeppy held… hadn’t it done far worse?

He still felt shaken from when Puffy, for that split second, had stared up at him. But he’d stayed hidden and he’d done his job. She had not recognized him. The egg… the egg had been proud. It had been happy. And soon it would be satisfied. It would have what it’d wanted and waited for over centuries. 

“Let’s go inside,” Skeppy said.

“Okay.”

And so they did. 

Skeppy swallowed the bile rising in his throat and the tears welling in his eyes. If only he still wore his stupid box then he wouldn’t have any risk of Bad seeing them. But he didn’t, because he never wore his box around Bad anymore. That had stopped years ago. He still held it now between his fingers though; he had worn it as they walked through L’manburg, Bad being so understanding to Skeppy wanting to hide his face from their friends. He had even worn it when he followed Puffy, breath heavy and lungs tightening with every cautious step. He still felt like a part of himself was stuck back there. 

Happy late birthday, Puffy. 

I’m sorry. 

He found himself stuck at the window, waiting. He didn’t know what he was waiting for, what indication of the end there’d be, if any. Everything was silent. Maybe that was for the better. Maybe he’d never know and he’d always be left guessing. 

He dumped his bags on the bedroom floor and swiftly began unpacking them, something for his hands to do. He heard Bad messing around in the kitchen, dishes clinking against the other. It took only a moment more for hot tears to drip from his eyes, and he cursed softly under his breath for his stupidity. He furiously wiped them off, but they just kept coming, and he didn’t know how to stop them, not without Bad sensing that something was wrong. 

He fumbled for his communicator that was hanging from his belt, turning it off and tossing it onto the bed. No risk of notifications. 

He wanted Bad’s comfort right now. He tried to force himself to concentrate on the things he was pulling out, naming them and their use, but he only succeeded in working himself up even more, awful memories and realizations of the things he’d never get back hitting him. Maybe he could have done this better had he told Bad. Maybe-- maybe there would be less loss if he told Bad and they could have come to a logical conclusion together except-- except that was impossible. Bad wasn’t logical, and the both of them put together certainly weren’t. If Bad knew… 

Skeppy could only imagine being pushed into lava all over again. He hated that’s what he imagined now.  Oh he loved Bad with all his heart, far more than any heart should be able to withstand, but there was always that undercurrent of fear hidden beneath. Something that snuck beside him whenever he decided to grace himself with his reflection in the mirror. 

Skeppy let out a breath, a ragged thing, and messed with the fraying ends of his hoodie. He was drawn out of his haze by a voice. 

“Geppy?”

He bit back a sigh and peered around the doorway where Bad stood in the kitchen, peering out towards the ocean. 

“Yeah?”

“What’s going on?” the demon whispered. 

Skeppy moved to peered out the windows along the wall of their bedroom and felt himself nearly collapse at the sight of a sickly sky out in the distance, like a storm tinted with red. Bleeding, bloody, and deadly. He swiftly made his way over to Bad and latched his arms around the demon’s own, feeling slightly sick. Bad was stuck staring, caught up in his own mind, and Skeppy tugged harder, forcing out the demon’s name, wanting him away from the sight. 

Mercifully, Bad eventually pulled his gaze away and looked down at Skeppy with wide and frightened eyes. The crystalian managed a smile that mustn’t have been convincing in the slightest. 

“It's nothing. Let’s go rest.”

“But-- I think--”

Bad couldn’t form the words. He looked back at the sky, red leaking across and seeping into clouds miles into the horizon, casting their island in a stormy gloom. 

I feel it to, Bad. 

“I wouldn’t worry about it, Bad. It’s just a storm. There’s nothing else but clouds.”

Skeppy felt guilt churning in his stomach at the words, trying to slowly nudge Bad in the direction that this was simply another hallucination. Bad only shook his head, watching as crimson oozed across the sky, his ears pinning back. Skeppy tried to tug him away from the window, cursing this stupid home for having no curtains, flinching as Bad let out a horrible cry. A flash of crimson spread across the sky just before them and Skeppy yanked them away from the window, forcing Bad down to his level. His fingers trembled against the demon’s cheeks, and his eyes darted for a split second over Bad’s shoulder where he could see the dangerous sky leaking before them. He turned his gaze back to Bad and took a deep breath as the demon continued to gasp for it. 

 “Just look at me,” he whispered in a hushed voice. “Just look at me, it’s okay.”

Bad nodded and held Skeppy’s gaze carefully, his brow pinched in slight confusion. They stayed there for a moment, Bad’s eyes searching. 

“What do you think is happening?” he asked quietly after a moment. 

Skeppy took a deep breath. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know.”

***

Two nights later, Skeppy dreamed. 

He dreamt of the world he had left behind and everything within it. He dreamt of the murky red skies and their mansion, their city and home covered in red vines, the egg pulsing just down below, eager, all consuming, and knowing. In his dream were the friends he had left at each other’s throats, and he saw how it all went down: how they would shout and scream, swords and seething teeth clashing at the other, dripping with twisted and disgusted hatred. The friends who had once stood together and smiled so joyfully at their sides, now ripping through each other’s chests, carving between their ribs. 

He dreamed of Bad pushing him into the lava in a moment of anger and desperation before screaming. Skeppy’s flesh scalded and peeled from his bone, and his tongue seared. He did not have a throat to scream with anymore as Bad did. 

They were in the mansion’s kitchen now and Bad was pleading at his feet, crying. A Skeppy of red scorned him, trying to push him away while Bad only clung on with faithful desperation. 

That’s not me, Skeppy tried to shout. That’s not me, I’m right here!

But Bad couldn’t hear him, and he would do anything to be loved again. Anyone could see that plainly. He couldn’t be alone and the whispers of the egg were alluring. 

I’m right here! Please, I’m right here, don’t listen to it! Skeppy pleaded, and he realized he was back on their island and Bad was standing at the door, a boat at the dock. We’re safe now, can’t you see that? 

Bad shook his head. 

You’re always gone now, Geppy. 

Skeppy lunged at the demon and seized his shirt into his fists, Bad jerking back against the door. When Skeppy saw his own reflection in Bad’s eyes, he saw a wild red entangled with twigs and vines instead of blue. But he wasn’t that anymore. He wasn’t that.  

Staring at Bad he shouted to the egg he knew was listening,

Give him back to me! We’re happy and he’s mine! Stop taking him away, I did what you wanted! You can’t take us apart. Bad, you can’t leave me. 

Skeppy couldn’t breathe as his grip fell away, and Bad was frightened, stepping out the door, out into an unknown and wild world Skeppy could never hope to understand. Skeppy stepped forward but he was stopped, latched on by the words of his oath, held back by the vines of the egg. He screamed and ripped his arms away from them, falling, slamming into the rocky floor, and in a snap as his head broke against stone, he woke up with a gasp, sitting up straight. He sucked in one breath after another, like breathing through a straw before a careful hand touched his shoulder. He looked down to see Bad staring up at him, eyes wide and brow pinched with worry, but unsure of what to do.

“Skeppy?” he asked softly. 

The crystalian looked out the window where there was nothing but clear night time skies. His face crumpled as he looked back down at Bad again before letting out a sob that would be embarrassing in any other situation. He collapsed on top of the demon in exhaustion. Bad let out a noise at the sudden drop of weight on his chest but quickly held him close. 

“I don’t think I could ever stand to see you with the egg again, Bad. I would do anything to never see you like that,” Skeppy hiccupped, his tears dripping down his cheeks now. “I would do anything, please, you understand that, right? I never want to see you-- you with it again.”

Bad was only confused about what Skeppy was talking about for a moment. The demon cupped Skeppy’s wet cheeks and brought them so that they were laying side by side, facing each other. 

“I know that, Skeppy. I know, don’t worry.” 

The words couldn’t reach him. 

“I am so scared you’re going to leave again,” Skeppy confessed, and it was like he was finally overflowing. He had finally bubbled over and was now spilling apart. His head ached already and he could hardly get his tongue to string words together, stiff and numb. “You scare me so much, Bad, and I hate-- I hate that you can’t be normal anymore, that I- I can’t do anything about it but have you here. We can’t go anywhere else but here, you have to promise to stay with me--”

“I am okay Skeppy,” Bad whispered softly, and the words broke Skeppy’s heart to hear. “I’m okay being with you here, if it makes you feel safer.”

“It is safer,” Skeppy insisted through the clog of his tears. 

“I know it is. That’s why I’m here.”

“You can’t-- We can’t go back.”

Bad frowned and Skeppy hated it. The question of why was on the tip of the demon’s tongue, but graciously, he didn’t ask it. 

“Okay,” he whispered, though he sounded hurt. He missed home. Their home, the place they had founded their relations on and became how close they were now. Skeppy wished that Bad didn’t miss it. He wished that just this was enough. 

“We’ll stay safe here, Skeppy. I will. I’m not leaving, and I don’t want to.”

Skeppy knew he did. Bad only stayed here because of him. No matter how much he liked their hidden vacation home, he would always prefer being at their mansion surrounded in a city of their friends. He loved the action and interaction he got there. This island had merely become a beautiful cage isolated from a corrupted world. 

“Stay,” Skeppy whispered, a grey haze tinted in red over the distant horizon in the night. 

“Always,” Bad whispered. “Always.” 

His next words were placed against Skeppy’s neck, soft and assuring. 

“I always feel myself again when I’m with you.”

It was an attempt at reassurance, and strangely, it worked. Skeppy found himself closing his eyes and letting himself relax, just slightly. There were no other imaginary friends with them now.

Still, he was not cured of them. He probably wouldn’t be, not for a long time, but Bad was here and safe in his arms, so… Really… It was okay. Skeppy was fairly certain about that. 

“You mean everything to me,” Bad whispered, his smile imprinted against the crystalian’s skin, so soft and loving. 

Skeppy sucked in a sharp breath. He clutched Bad’s nightshirt tightly.

“You as well,” he replied softly. 

As Bad giggled, nuzzling closer, Skeppy let out the breath he had been holding. If Bad didn’t know what he had done, then they were okay. If he could keep Bad here, then they would be safe.

L’manburg was better off as a memory, only ever faintly recalled as if a dream.