#((hello I unintentionally went overboard af but hey words fghjg))

[goldendivinewrath]

@typhoonvash

He watches the disbelief and denial flood the other's features. So that's what it looks like. Huh. There's really nothing he can do to convince, so he doesn't try. If it's him, another him in some way, then he'll already know even if he still denies. It's fine. It's got to be fine.

He's not dying, he wants to say, he's been dead for such a long time already. Existing and tired and feeling nothing and then feeling everything in waves like he's trying to catch up on what he missed, but it's nothing. It'd be a mercy, he wants to say. He wants to, but it sticks in his throat and all he wants to do is cry and scream but nothing makes it past--

He wouldn't. Of course he wouldn't want Vash to give up on his life, but it's been so long. And he would understand, wouldn't he? Tears blur his vision, not sure he can explain any of this to his other self. Not sure that he wants to. Then between one blink and the next--

Blurred vision becomes movement becomes panic, and suddenly he's outside of himself, of his own mind, and moving. He doesn't even see what's happening at first, simply reacting to the shout and grasping his counterpart's hand.

He doesn't know what's going on. He knows what's going on. He doesn't want to know what's going on. Help, he'd been asked, he can't deny that, even himself. Especially himself. He looks around frantically, glancing into the void where his other self's leg disappears and--

He doesn't know what gazes back. He doesn't know. He feels like he should. Like he knows it. It's familiar and it's him and it's not and it's terror-desire-agony, it's the scent of flowers and gunpowder and donuts and blood left in the sun.

"You can't have him!" He shouts, he screams down at the box while trying to pull, while letting himself stand as an anchor even if it feels like the coffin and the ground beneath are both shaking. Earthquake. Sand changes states, frequency makes it act like water, they're both going to sink, Nononono--

"He's not yours!" He pulls, pulls, coffin lid cracking under his own feet, splitting apart as the void opens wider. The ground shakes harder beneath them, around them.

It's never been... this close before. An end point. He feels it, like cold. Reaching through his limbs, into his chest. Foregone conclusion.

Okay.

"Climb." It's an order. An order for the other self, the other Vash, Canary. Maybe he doesn't even need to climb, honestly. Maybe he'll just get thrown with all of the power Vash puts behind wrapping his arms around his other self and pulling, catapulting, ignoring the wood splintering underneath.

Something happens. Something releases. Something snaps. Something hurts, then he stops feeling it. There's sand. And light. And dark. And absence. There's something tearing at him, but it's of no consequence to him. Or maybe it's of every consequence to him. (Are they his hands? Should I have brought a ring?)

Black holes eat their fill eventually, don't they? Eventually. Time is a fabric that wears thin.

Is it tomorrow yet?

I just want to go home.

@goldendivinewrath

He... loves him?

Th-that's ridiculous... the man buried here can't love him, he can't, he can't—it's a bad idea! Terrible idea! That's... that's probably how he ended up down here. In this hole, six feet deep, seven feet long, about four across. Loving Vash the Stampede only kills people—it only kills people! Why wouldn't he understand that?!

"N-no! I'm not—you're not dying, okay?! No one is dying!" Frustrated, he tosses the shovel out of the hole. He can't even look himself in the eyes. "He wouldn't want you to, okay?! Th... that's not the type of person he is!"

Canary realizes how hypocritical he is. If he were in this Vash's situation, he too would want to be buried here unceremoniously. Hell, he wouldn't even deserve to be near him, he deserves to be left to the worms, plucked clean until he's nothing but bones—! But this person—this Vash, this stranger—in front of him is different, they're different!

"If... if yours loved you, he—he'd w-want you to—"

Right as his wide crystalline eyes recenter to stare directly into his counterpart's, a hand—all rotting flesh and blood-stained bone—smashes through the coffin, clutches him by the ankle, and pulls. Canary's entire left leg disappears into the void of the casket; his other foot braces him on top of the emblazoned cross. The wood groans in protest, bowing under his weight.

He shouts in surprise and horror, now looking up to his other self as if he can do anything. It's uncertain what he can do—Canary already can't feel his leg, and the creaking of the box is anything but a good sign...

"H-help! I don't—don't want to go yet—! I can't, I can't! Y-you don't need me, I'm—I'm not even the one you want, please!"

His hand reaches to grab the other's; his sobs grow louder than the other's cries. Canary doesn't want to pull him in with him, but surely, surely Vash can do something. M-maybe he can soothe the fallen undertaker somehow!

Or... maybe it really is the devil finally coming to collect. If that's the case, maybe he should let the demon win...