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makerofmadness · 3 months ago

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itai itai no SICK SICK - a Cookie Run fanfic

(I spent like two months writing this whole thing lol. If you're wondering how long this is: I hit the text block limit [it's 1,000 in one post btw] and lagged out the post editor and my phone started heating up)

Warning for Heavy Angst & Whump, Hurt/Comfort, as in "a crap ton of hurt but eventually things get better"

Inspired by the song ベノム by Kairiki Bear (title comes from the lyrics)

Starring: Alchemist Cookie ft. Vampire Cookie and others

(Note: some implied Sparkvamp. Doesn't really go any further than the games themselves, though, so I didn't think it was worth tagging as ship but thought it was worth warning for)

TW: Alcoholism (or whatever Vampire is), (Self-Inflicted) Poisoning, Self-Harm (Via Poisoning), Suicidal Themes, (Cookiefied) Hematemesis

(Please tell me if more should be added to the TW, I will update accordingly)

Cover drawn by @driftwoodmfb (background by Nou/from the song's MV) and thanks to my friend @/sleep.starvedd from discord for the writing advice for one scene. And thanks to literally all my friends who read this before it was finished (@softichill @boom-fanfic-a-latta @organichotchoco and also @cosmoknightchaos who wasn't even in this fandom) couldn't have made it without ya.

(Story under the cut. Enjoy)

Grape juice.

She couldn't escape the smell of it within her home. Every day, every time she walked anywhere except for her room/lab, and especially any time she saw her own brother.

Alchemist Cookie's existence was less happy than it would've seemed from the outside, or than she really preferred to present it to others. And it all came down to one thing:

Vampire Cookie.

Embarrassing, was it not? How much he relied on her, his little sister, to keep him healthy, to keep the house tidy, to keep him together. He didn't ever take care of her, she wondered if he'd even notice if she were to ever fall sick and need taking care of, or if he'd just be happy to have that awful nagging away from him, as if she didn't nag with a purpose.

As if he'd even have a long enough attention span to look after her.

Ugh.

She shook the thought out of her head as she sat down at the table for dinner, alone. Vampire Cookie has gone out that night- he was always either at home or at Sparkling Cookie's juice bar, it was a struggle to get him to go anywhere else. She was half-considering calling Sparkling Cookie just to beg him to send her brother home, but she knew that would be unreasonable to ask of him like that.

Sparkling Cookie was nice. She liked Sparkling Cookie. He was kind to her; he showed her how to mix drinks once and she tried to apply that skill to her alchemy sometimes. She saw him too often. She somewhat resented him too. She would've resented him more if she hadn't met him.

It wasn't fun having to be called over so often, to pick her own brother up like that, to shoulder him home as he'd confusedly ramble about this and that, as he'd seem to have forgotten who she was...

It hurt. She felt sick just thinking about it.

It'd come back to him, it always did. He promised he always forgot everything from time to time like that, the times he'd forgotten his own name still scared her, but that he'd never really forget her.

She didn't believe it. One day he wouldn't see her every day, and then he wouldn't remember her when he sobered up. One day he'd be around and she wouldn't be. His lifespan would outlast hers. That was what little she really understood of his condition. And how she resented it.

She didn't really understand her brother and how he operated. She worried for his health as he seemed to only consume grape juice some days, and seemed bored or averse of normal sustenance. She tried everything in her power to get anything good into his diet, despite his resistance.

"I don't need that stuff, sis," he'd always tell her, "all I need is grape juice. That's what keeps me going."

She couldn't help but worry for him. He never seemed to worsen despite his diet being built on what should've been unstable grounds- the opposite was the case, actually: he was considered quite the strong and ethereally handsome Cookie by most. He was popular, he had many treasures, and nothing ever seemed to get to him. Everything was well with his life. "Cheers to a wonderful life!" He'd say sometimes.

Was she an afterthought, or did he just not see her distress?

As a Cookie, he was many things: Carelessfree. Unaffected by her pain. An immortal being who would outlive her.

Who would take care of him after that?

She had only ever talked about this to him once. And he told her she was "too young to start thinking about mortality." She was still what would be considered too young for that. But how could she not? Life was at alchemy's center, and her brother was an immortal vampire who would definitely outlive her.

And yet here she was, still trying to make him eat his vegetables because it was 'good for him' or make him go to check-ups with Dr. Bones Cookie because he was too lazy to bother going out that far for something without a promise of juice. He didn't need any of this. She really did know it deep down. But she kept doing it anyway.

She would never dare say it, but maybe deep down she just wanted to pretend he was normal.

...Her brother probably would've crumbled from juice overdose by now if he had been normal.

From that poison he sustained himself on.

But the alternative would've been...

She picked at her plate, having lost her appetite suddenly. She much preferred devoting as much time and energy as possible to shutting herself away in her lab, away from her brother and the grape juice smell that came off of his very dough, and endlessly researching and experimenting until he found his way in somehow and made her stop pushing herself so hard. Her life's work had been researching Life Potions. Her Life's work had been to extend her own lifespan

She got up from the table, leaving her plate untouched. Perhaps Vampire Cookie would just eat it for her. She knew he wouldn't bother. He didn't typically bother with normal Cookie meals, when he did it was either to please her, to participate with a group, to look normal at events, or for the flavor. He wouldn't be eating a random salad by himself.

...she decided to go over to the phone and make a call. To a number she had to have memorized by now:

"...hello? Sparkling Cookie? Yes, it's Alchemist Cookie, I was just wondering if my brother is going to come home soon... ... ...A party, huh? Well... Whatever. Just- If you don't mind me asking, could you, uh... cut him off sooner rather than later tonight...? I'm just- you see, I might be busy tonight, so I'd prefer it if he could come home by himself tonight, safely... ... ...Thank you. I knew you'd understand. Have a nice night."

She put the phone back on the wall and began walking away, but felt... hollow.

Of course he'd have gone to a party without telling her anything. It wasn't as if she'd be worried sick if he came home late...

Maybe he'd come home sooner if he couldn't have more, though...

Whatever. It didn't matter. He always had more lying around, anyway. In the cellar, or in his room, or in the kitchen, or wherever he could store it. He'd even tried to use her vials, more than once...

And then he'd just lie around and do nothing with her. They never really spent time together, it felt. Sometimes they'd go out and do things, social events and the like, but she craved something personal. Meaningful.

For their entire existence, had they ever really just hung out? One time, she had done a favor for Cherry Cookie, and said cookie had talked all about her plans that day with her sister, Cherry Blossom Cookie. Those two had been planning to go on a picnic together that day. And hearing about those plans, all Alchemist Cookie had thought was: Why didn't MY sibling do that with me...?

She sat down on the couch- and looking at the furniture she started to feel ashamed for not being happy. While she had specifically made sure that their home looked normal enough, it very obviously showed through that they had... more than average to spend, with how nice everything looked, shining and sparkling even within the dim lighting of most rooms.

She didn't know where he got it all from.

He didn't have to work, and she was more interested in her passions, and her working options were limited at her age anyway. No one made any money, really-

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening, and a voice shouting for her:

"ALCHEMIST COOKIE~!!"

Before she even had the opportunity to say a word or leave the room, a certain fanged Cookie slumped in. She could smell the grape juice saturating his dough. She suppressed a gag. That smell had gotten stronger than usual. She could even see a stain on his coat.

...she wasn't surprised.

"So- *hiccup* 'scuse me-" he plopped himself down next to her, while she just tried to stare off onto space. She had better things to occupy her mind with, things that her brother wasn't interested in in the slightest except for maybe that one time. She'd just escape into her mind while her body would stand in until he either had his fill of rambling to her about 'the wonders of taking breaks' or-

"Sparkling Cookie said you called him, eh...?"

Her jam ran cold. Even though he had no anger in his voice.

"..." she avoided looking at him, knowing that the best she could really say was the truth, "I-I just- you see... I was going to go work in my lab, but I... wasn't expecting you to be home this soon-"

"I mean, duh. No juice, no Vampire Cookie."

He didn't even stick around just to talk to his friends...?

"But, why's that the issue...?"

"..." Was he really that oblivious? "If you had too much, I would have to help you come home... but if I'm working, then I won't be at the phone, so I won't even know-"

"Oh, I see: You're worried about me, aren't ya?"

She was torn between two responses: 'Yes. All the time. Every day. And I don't know how much longer I can take it for.' And 'Worried that you'll try to come home yourself anyway and end up in some stupid or dangerous or stupidly dangerous situation, yes.'

Both went unsaid. Instead, just:

"Yes."

"Awww, you know what I always tell you, sis..."

Vampire Cookie leaned into his sister, affectionately wrapping an arm around her and pulling her closer to him. The warmth and love of a familial embrace could no longer reach her.

"Don't worry about everything so much! It'd do you wonders to-"

"How can I not?? I never asked to have to look after my big brother, just because HE can't put down the STUPID JUICE GLASS-"

She immediately slapped her hand over her mouth. That wasn't supposed to come out.

"..."

"...I-I'm going to my lab."

She got up with her brother's arm giving away from her surprisingly easily, given that he was usually slightly stronger than average, and walked away without looking back.

She didn't even see the look on his face. But she could care less.

Alchemist Cookie just walked away, practically without thought, her legs carrying her all the way to the door to her lab. As she entered and shut it behind her, however, she suddenly lost her will to carry on.

...

Oh. Her eyes had sprung a leak. Embarrassing.

Alone, nothing and no one to grant her solace, something dark within her mind that had been brewing for a long time began to concoct an idea out of festered, fermented emotions:

If he was going to nourish himself on poison every day, she thought:

Two could play at that game.

It took about a week to gather the ingredients. In that time, somewhere deep down, she had been hoping that something would happen to change her mind. It was a decent amount of time, she thought, looking at the grand scheme of her pathetically short existence.

But nothing did. In fact, she only had her current thoughts affirmed.

Not by any change, but by a lack thereof: by stagnation.

By that stagnant grape juice her life had been drowned by.

She couldn't even really focus on or enjoy her work anymore because whenever she tried to get 'in the zone,' her thoughts would always go back to her brother.

One day, which she had spent almost entirely in her lab, her brother came home from the bar- not by himself, but being shouldered by his acquaintance Cinnamon Cookie- who interrupted her planning just to inform her that her brother was home. The nerve of that Cookie. (...she had to have gotten a call, right? She didn't leave her lab the whole day, so...)

"*sigh* How much did Vampire Cookie drink...?"

"...uh- N-nobody knows..."

"...ugh. Whatever."

No one ever kept track.

Days went by and her brother was none-the-wiser to what she was planning. Despite all the time he spent at home...

She had a hard time keeping him out of her room, though. She couldn't lock the door to her lab, so he'd always get in. But her reagent-gathering was sporadic and unplanned, she had nothing written down...

Then came the day she finally decided that she was ready.

This would be the perfect concoction. Acridly flavored. She was turning it into an experimental melting pot, a pot of completely random reagents. Not really. She was very much aiming for the most toxic ingredients she had as she grabbed them from around the room. With the test subject being herself.

By the end, once she'd had enough of tossing things in the pot, she watched the final color end up as a vivid pink. The mixture had bubbled and fizzed during the mixing process, but now it was... completely still.

Deathly still.

It was almost tranquil, the way it sat. She stared at it for a moment, before scooping some of it into an empty flask she had laying around.

She swished it around a little, staring blankly. Nothing changed about it.

Whatever this nocuous cocktail would do, it wouldn't be anything good for her...

She knew this would be it. This would show him. He'd finally understand. This would teach him a lesson.

She wanted to -------

She slowly took the flask up to her lips.

Bottoms up.

Immediately she felt it burn as it rushed down her throat.

It hurt. It tasted foul. She made sure to get down every last drop, swallowing a steady stream of death-

Something inside her told her to spit it out. But she was set, she refused to go back: She would show him.

Once she'd gulped it all down, she put the flask down on her work table. Already she could feel the effects: A stomachache was setting in, she felt incredibly nauseous and dizzy, a pain began to burn her chest from the inside, her eyes began to spill water and something buried within her once-logical mind was still yelling at her SPIT IT OUT-

But she couldn't. It was far too late for that.

There was no going back.

~~~

She staggered out of her room with an aching sensation filling every inch of her dough. Her head especially was beginning to throb with pain- but really, her entire body was in general agony.

Her head was spinning, to the point she was starting to see double, and this combined with the sudden shortness of her breath that she couldn't tell if it was just her panicking or if it had been yet another effect of her concoction made walking to the living room take...

She didn't know how long.

The numbers on the clock, she couldn't read them anymore. She couldn't recognize them. She couldn't process any of them.

Her head hurt even more trying to do so.

But she eventually found her way in, and, after further difficulty bumping into the furniture, finally managed to sit herself down.

She lay back on the sofa, but even cessation of action did nothing to make breathing an easier task. She could feel her heart beating in her head chest. It was speaking over her reason. Shouting over it.

'Why even bother sitting out here? You know he's not going to notice. Even if he does, he won't be concerned. Get to work; Be productive with your time at least...'

She shook any thought from her mind the moment her brother came into the room. She felt too weak to even spend the energy talking to him, she wasn't even sure if she would be able to get a coherent word out anyway, but surely he'd at least ask how she was doing. And then when she didn't answer, he'd look at her, and then he'd notice something was wrong-

But he just walked on by.

He said something, but she couldn't focus on the words. And it didn't change the fact that he just left the room anyway.

(Maybe it sounded like "Love ya, sis" but she couldn't tell. She wouldn't have believed it, anyway.)

That woefully familiar miasma of grape juice hit her senses, worsening that already overwhelming nausea of hers. Stronger than ever. Or was it the same as usual...? Everything just felt worse like this...

'...what a joke. He just walked right past you. He probably didn't even realize you're here. He probably forgot you again.'

The leaks were back, gushing, overflowing- and she didn't have the energy to fix them. Agonizing all alone, with this toxin eating away at her system...

If it didn't crumble her tonight, she'd try again tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after that. And over and over again until he finally noticed that something was wrong...

She slept unrestfully that night, and even though the effects of the concoction had mostly subsided by the afternoon when she woke up, she still felt tired.

She planned her routine out from there: Every day, once she woke up (frustratingly, it was already difficult to keep to her usual schedule), she would immediately take a drink of the poison before she even went to eat breakfast. She'd then just let the day play out as she rapidly grew ill, and see if her brother ever asked about her health.

He didn't ask her. One day, two days, three days- she seldom spoke to him, as he'd be either in his room lazing around or indulging in the one thing he cared about in the world, or at Sparkling Cookie's- and she was just exuberant to see the look on his and Vampire Cookie's faces the inevitable day she'd come in to do her usual 'nag-and-drag' routine and at best not even have the physical strength to get her brother off the floor and at worst-

'You could crumble right in front of him and he wouldn't say a thing. He doesn't care about you. He's NEVER cared about you.'

She didn't care anymore. That night, though- her brother staggered home with his arm over another Cookie's shoulder again. This time, however, it was Sparkling Cookie himself who accompanied the drunken Cookie through the door.

She didn't know this until the two of them walked into the living room, where she was leaning over the left side of the couch trying not to pass out from exhaustion.

"Oh. Well, hello there, Alchemist Cookie!" Sparkling Cookie smiled at her with a warmth that she couldn't feel.

"He-ey, lil sis! *hic*" Vampire Cookie gave a loose, lazy wave. "How ya doin???"

Alchemist Cookie didn't want to speak to either of them. Tiredness was the bulk of the reason, she really hadn't vocalized much at all in the past few days since her experiment had begun, but really what could she have said to either of these Cookies?

Sparkling Cookie. The Cookie that ran the juice bar. The Cookie that called her on the phone at bare minimum three times per week just to pick her brother up from said juice bar. The Cookie who did nothing but serve that disgusting, baneful juice.

She really resented Sparkling Cookie.

And her brother...

Immediately flopped himself next to her, as close as possible, forcing her to take in that grossly prominent grape juice smell, as if it weren't hard enough to breathe already. And lovingly, he started clinging to her side by the arm, practically leaning all of his weight into her as if he hadn't been a heavy enough burden-

His body was as cold as always. She knew to expect that from him. She was always prepared to feel that. And normally the physical cold was easy to ignore thanks to the emotional warmth. But she just couldn't feel that anymore...

She was so, so cold.

"Alchemist Cookie? You're shivering... are you alright?" Sparkling Cookie looked at her carefully and with concern, coming closer to her. She couldn't get up. "You look... unwell..."

...

She tried to say something, but all she could get out were wheezing breaths and a hacking cough she couldn't cover up.

Sparkling Cookie put his hand to her forehead. She didn't have the energy to get it away.

"Hmmm... you're not burning up, but you sure look sick. And you sound sick, too..."

"Yeeeeaaaahhhh... ya look kinda funny..."

Her brother's face was practically pressed into hers as his spacey eyes made direct contact with hersand she hoped he would notice how they had dulled to lifelessness by now as she turned her head too, and even just that caused her a splitting headache that she did her best to ignore because she wasn't going to let Sparkling Cookie see that.

"...eh, doesn't look like much. Looks like Alchemist Cookie like always. *hiccup* You're fiiiiiiine~ It's whateeeeeeever~"

He didn't notice. He didn't care.

Sparkling Cookie sighed and pried Vampire Cookie from her, gently but still causing her pain yet again. Vampire Cookie just leaned to the other side of the couch, oblivious just as he always was.

"Don't be a buzzkill, Sparkling Cookie!! *hiccup* I was all nice and comfy right there... Can't a Cookie just give his lil sis a hug in peace?? What's this world come to... *sigh*"

The look on Sparkling Cookie's face seemed disappointed but unsurprised before his attention shifted back to Alchemist Cookie:

"Thank goodness it was a slow day at the bar tonight. There's no way Vampire Cookie would be able to take care of you like this..."

If he was implying what she thought he was implying, then she wished she could just get up and run away, but she knew the air would leave her faster than it could get to her.

She didn't want him hanging around her house. Her brother had enough access to grape juice already. She wasn't going to let him have the idea of bringing bar nights into their house. She already couldn't escape them normally.

She just barely scraped together enough energy to shake her head, weakly. She tried to get up, now that her brother was off of her and couldn't weigh her down.

The dizziness set in immediately as she could barely find balance in her feet, waving her arms around trying to find a support-

Sparkling Cookie's hands approached to help stabilize her, but she slapped them away before they could make contact. Purposefully.

"A-Alchemist Cookie, let me help you to your room, please. You're clearly too weak to stand on your own..."

As she tottered towards the wall to lean against it, she glared back at him and tried to mouth her answer:

I want you gone.

She knew he could lip-read decently enough. She knew the way she mouthed it was obvious enough.

She didn't care.

She saw his feelings on his face. In his eyes. The shock, confusion, worry. Hurt. She didn't feel bad. Not for the barkeep that drove her and her brother only further apart. Maybe a little, for the mixologist that'd always bring out some set of old alchemy textbooks from the back when she needed to hang around, that she'd practically had memorized from the amount of times she'd read them all front to back. She turned away before staggering over to the hallway.

"G'nighty night, sis~, don't *hic* don't let the... what's the sayin again? Whatever, sweet dreams..."

She turned in early that night. She didn't have anything better to do anyway. She couldn't do anything else like this. She couldn't do alchemy anymore. But she didn't care.

She was beginning to accept the struggle to sit up or even just to open her eyes in the morning, the way her vision would still be so blurry and unfocused even after putting her glasses on that she wasn't certain they were even on her face, the lingering aches and pains that hung over every moment...

"...Alchemist Cookie...? Alchemist Cookie!"

This wasn't part of the routine.

She had been sitting there at the edge of her bed for who-knows-how-long likely a minute before she realized a voice she knew all too well was inside her room.

Vampire Cookie.

She looked over to see him leaning with his back to the side of her cauldron pot, holding one of her vials.

She just barely mustered the words with airy breaths in-between: "Wh-what are... you doing... up... this ear...ly!?"

"Uhhh... first of all, it's 4 in the afternoon." He walked to her as she sulked in place without energy to move. "Second of all, Sparkling Cookie told me that last night, he noticed you were feeling... more than a little under-the-weather. So I came in here to check on you, and I saw... whatever that is."

He pointed over to the cauldron. Her heart skipped a beat.

"Well, I looked at it and thought that maybe you'd finally made more of that wonderful pink juice that you'd kept insisting was 'just an accident' and 'you didn't have the recipe for.' So, I couldn't help but have a little drink..."

Ah, yes, the 'Pink Juice Incident.' The one that had dyed most of the kingdom pink with love. She had been so confused that night when both her brother and Sparkling Cookie came and started thanking her profusely for "that delicious rosé juice" and "the boost in business for the day." That was the first time Sparkling Cookie had ever been over at their home. (And she wished the two of them could've been a little less... excessively romantic.)

...but her brother had been so sweet that night. When he wasn't rambling on and on about how debonair Sparkling Cookie looked in pink, he was giving her a pat on the head or saying about five times total "cheers to my brilliant sister and her alchemy!" despite no one else raising a glass with him, and she'd felt all warm and fuzzy on the inside...

It almost made her wish, in some deep selfish recess of her mind, that she could make it again. Just so he would praise her some more. She craved that validation.

...but she couldn't. And even if she could, she wouldn't. She couldn't poison him like that just for her own needs.

Wait...

He drank the poison...? He drank her concoction!?

The look on his face changed from pleasant reminiscence to light disgust.

"But that stuff tastes awful...! What did you even put in there?"

...of course he wouldn't be affected. Her potions never worked on him. Even when she wanted them to.The 'Pink Juice' affecting him was only a result of how haphazard that entire concoction had been.

She had once sought out to transmute her brother alchemically, to create some kind of potion that could eliminate that listless juice addiction of his. And yet none of them ever worked on anything but a normal Cookie.

There was that one time his personality seemingly inverted out of nowhere, where he started dressing and acting like her for a few days and even researching alchemy (...seemingly), that she never got an explanation for, until she came up with a potion to put him back to normal...

No. She knew her potions wouldn't have suddenly started working on him. She made all her concoctions with the reference of how to affect a normal Cookie, all the way down to composition. He wasn't normal. She had a whole pile of failed attempts at a working Flavor Reversal Potion by the end of her prior experiments in futility, after all. And she used them as the basis for the cure.

...in which case, she certainly couldn't have 'fixed him' by the end of it when he encroached on her field, so how did he return to normal...?

...

Had he really just been messing with her the whole time...?

She'd somewhat started to appreciate him more after that incident. At least, she realized her problem with him was less about him and more...

Whatever. She didn't care anymore. "No juice, no Vampire Cookie," in his own words.

She tried to get up to her feet- and immediately she envied her brother's ability to levitate as the pain shot up through her legs.

"OW!!"

"Alchemist Cookie??"

"You... you drank my... my poi- my potion...!?"

"Yeah. So?"

"...grrrr..." she didn't look at him, but felt a sudden burst of... not as much as strength as it was anger,and yet it still wasn't enough to give her hands the strength for fists, "why... why can't you... why can't you just control yourself for once!?"

It could hardly be called a shout, but she couldn't do that anymore.

But she could spit venom just fine.

"...sis, what do you-"

"It's always drink this, drink that...!! All for you, you, YOU...!!!" She pushed him to the side and dragged her legs over to her prized pot. Looking into it, it didn't seem to have had much taken out of it, and yet she still felt furious that he had taken what was hers. As she turned back around and made sure to make direct eye contact, further infuriated by the confusion that met her, she put on a sarcastic tone and gestured sloppily as she mimicked her brother's voice: "Can't you make some juice with your alchemy?' this and 'Can you stop bothering me about alchemy when I'm trying to enjoy my juice?" that *pant*... and then you have the gall, to come into my room, and try to just drink anything that wasn't meant for you... and when it's not that, you're looking through my research notes, to see if they have anything about juice... because THAT'S ALL YOU EVER CARE ABOUT-"

Unable to keep up with her own shouting, she suddenly entered a violent coughing fit. She couldn't breathe. Vampire Cookie looked a mix of horrified and... mortified.

She had to support herself on the side of the cauldron to prevent herself from keeling over, with how light-headed she was getting. She'd started spitting venom, but she felt as if she were going to start spitting jam.

As soon as she could get a breath back in, as she saw that fanged Cookie take just a few quivering steps toward her with a face of remorseful shock, she shot a glare in his direction and finally gasped out:

"Why, does everything, have to be, about you...!? You... about your juice... is that... all I'm good for, to you...? Making juice, for you...? Taking care, of you...?? Catering, to you...!?!"

"..." Her brother stood frozen by her cold words. "...A-Alchemist Cookie, you know that's not true, you're not-"

"It's always, juice for you, juice for you..." As she gazed fondly into the contents of the cauldron, her mouth formed a twisted, broken facade of a smile: "But this, is for ME... this... makes me... feel better..."

It was funny to her, almost. The purpose of this entire experiment had once been to make her brother see what he was doing to her himself. Nourishing himself on that poison of his every day.

That crimson venom dripping from his fangs as he bit into her life.

But she didn't care anymore. She wasn't doing this for him anymore.

She had long lost her original intent.

But really, her intentions now had always been there, lurking deep down within the darkest crevices of her mind. Just waiting to bubble to the surface.

Her routine poisonings had begun to feel almost comforting to her, in some form. Because at the very least, it was something she had control over. She could control her own degradation except she knew it was progressing at an uncontrolled rate. She was doing this to herself. No one else was. She took a sense of pride in that, a sense of power, a sense of control.

Control. She needed control. She couldn't control her own mortality, she couldn't control her brother and his behavior. This pernicious potion was the only way to control anything, she thought...

So what if her health was deteriorating? She had every right to make it deteriorate.

This wasn't right

"(Feel better...?) Is it... a cure or something...?"

The inquiry snapped her out of her blissful thought, but she didn't look at him. She just thought:

He was right about that one thing: That this was, to her, more nostrum than noxious in the grand scheme of things.

She'd prescribed it herself to her own heart, the one true remedy for its malaise: Her own personal, hand-crafted, home-brewed panacea.

This would make everything better.

And so, she answered accordingly:

"Yes..."

"(...well, guess I shouldn't be surprised about medicine tasting bad...) Sis... I-"

"Sh-Shut up..."

Her head snapped to look at him and it hurt so much to make such a sudden movement, and she ignored the guilt that had been shining in his eyes and glared as she panted out:

"Get out... of my room... I'm done, talking... and, give me back, my vial, now...! *gasp* And then get out...!!"

She held out her hand. She would've pointed to the door with the other if she could trust her legs to keep themselves standing on their own, without propping herself up still. Vampire Cookie looked at her dejectedly before making his way toward the door, handing her the vial as he walked past but otherwise not stopping to look back...

Until he was at the door.

Just before he left through it, just before he could give her privacy, he looked back at her and said:

"...Could... could you at least... air out the room a little...? I-I just noticed that it's a little... I don't know, mephitic in here...? And you know I'll be able to smell this from-"

"Out...!!

"(...I-I'm sorry...)"

He shut the door, leaving her alone to her own devices in her ill-lit, shadow-casted room where the curtains hadn't been touched in days. She sighed.

'Finally. Almost thought he'd never go away...'

Now there was nothing keeping her from her precious elixir of death life... so-to-speak.

She didn't want to miss a dose. She rationalized it in her head, one should never skip even just a day's dose of their medication, after all. It just wasn't healthy...

She was really becoming an addict of her own. Addicted to her own misery. Pushing away, hitting away even the very idea of relief. She didn't even do anything of worth anymore, passing through life devoid of passion, of her passion- once she had dreamed of making great discoveries, but now what knowledge could be held in a mind too tired to think...? She reminded herself so much of her brother: Drinking, doing nothing, and decaying in her room; Dozing off in dreamless sleep and waiting for her doom; Hardly ever leaving, barely living in this tomb.

What a miserable creature she was. Maybe she deserved this anyway.

Bottoms up.

Over the next few days, she'd stopped keeping at some point. Of how long it had been since she'd started her slow march toward the end experiment. The days were all congealing into a mass of constant fatigue languor, not helped by her now inconsistent sleep schedule... most of her schedule was 'sleep' now, really, or a state between sleep and awake that she couldn't tell the difference between anymore because she just couldn't do anything else and even thinking was becoming too much of an energy sink sometimes.

She didn't even really have the energy to make her meals anymore. Sometimes she was too queasy to stomach anything. Sometimes she struggled to leave her room in the first place. The times she had done so, when the hunger got too much to bear, she'd noticed that her brother had started waiting around the kitchen more. Sitting at the table sometimes, trying to coax her into joining. "Are you going to keep me waiting for lunch?" or "Don't you think a sandwich would be nice right about now...?" ...he wasn't very subtle.

...one time he got desperate enough to try cooking something. It wasn't very good, he really had no idea how to prepare a salad if burning it was ever a possibility and especially in the way he did it, but...

The only thing she could easily put down was that burning potion of hers. But she was finding the simple act of swallowing to become more and more difficult thanks to the sheer pain of everything in her body.

And it was just another late afternoon, who-knows-how-long after this had all began, after her heart had crumbled and fallen apart, and she was about to take her potion again. Up to her mouth, running down her throat...

But she had to spit it out halfway through because she couldn't swallow it.

"ACK!!"

Something was wrong. More wrong than ever before.

It hurt.

She'd never felt more SICK.

She started coughing, forcefully, oxygen making its escape. Her body was trying to expel something.There was something in her that needed to get out.

And it came out.

Onto the floor and her hands as she dropped her flask, causing it to shatter there with the mess of...

Strawberry jam.

Nausea, pain, vertigo- everything was making her head spin, the room was spinning all around her, her vision was doubling, tripling in an instant and she could hardly keep her balance on her feet, her head was growing light and yet it was still heavy with soreness, everything was in pain-

She fell over onto her back. The lights above her looked all the brighter and stung her eyes. She could hardly keep them open; she didn't want to. She was beginning to fade in and out of conscious, anyway. Her consciousness was beginning to fade in and out of being, anyway.

This was it. The culmination of her experiment: A date alone with death, with toxins flowing through her.

Her crumbled body would lie alone within her room, not to be found for days. Weeks. Months. YEARS.

...

She was full of fear.

Those leaky eyes of her wouldn't stop, not when this wasn't what she had really wanted, deep down in the crumbled pieces of her heart, though she had long stopped admitting it to herself.

The one thing she'd wanted, needed, was...

Something she'd never get to see herself have, if she were to crumble now.

But she had no way to control the outcome of this. She never had. That cocktail of death had been dooming her every day she drank it. There was no going back.

'This is goodbye...'

~~~

"...Al...mi...C..ki....?...

(Why did this have to be such a slow process...? Why hadn't she crumbled yet? Was there something keeping her alive, some force of will? Was that really powerful enough to keep her from the brink...?)

(...she didn't want to crumble, but she had gone too far to save herself. And no one else was there to save her. Now she was stuck in a slow atrophy from the inside-out.

She could feel her insides crumbling.

Jam and leftover poison still oozed from her mouth, dripping down her face- and within her mouth just tasted so odiously foul and yet she couldn't spit any of it out. Her eyes could hardly keep open. She was just about to let them close, finally, to plug up that incessant leakage, even if she feared she may never open them again...)

"ALCHEMIST COOKIE?!!"

(Wait...)

(There was a voice, and footsteps that, even with the ringing in her ears, were close enough to make out, and they sounded far too fast for any normal Cookie to be running at...

She knew a Cookie who wasn't normal.

"Alchemist Cookie!? ALCHEMIST COOKIE!!!! WAKE UP, PLEASE!!!!!!!"

She just barely opened her eyes again as the ringing cleared to find the face of a Cookie staring down at her, that had gotten down next to her on the floor, that, even though her vision was blurry, she could make out had crimson hair and deep purple eyes...

Vampire Cookie...?

"Alchemist Cookie!?!?! What on Earthbread happened to you...!?!"

(He... found her. He actually found her. That shouldn't have happened, and yet...)

"..." She was scared to even try speaking. It'd be a waste of what little breath she had, anyway. It wasn't as if he'd ever listen to her, right?

...could she even speak? Could she even breathe? Was she even still...

No. No, the agony was undeniable. It said everything without words. Even if her body had broken down, even if it wouldn't work as she wished, she was very much still in it.

"...N-nevermind, you can tell me later. J-just- just relax, okay?? Just stay... calm..."

He got up and ran away- and while she couldn't get up to watch him leave, she was already feeling no less than sheer despondency. It wasn't disappointment, no- that would imply she had expected better of him, that she had had any hope left in her that he wouldn't just tell her to 'chill out' like he always did and then abandon her there to break down in desolation-

She never heard the door close.

She was ready to let the darkness take over her field of view again. She didn't hear the footsteps returning...

But she heard the sound of wings flapping towards her.

Looking as far towards the door as she could in her position, with her blurring vision she could make out some small, round blob of red flying in through the door and stopping right beside her- and in a sudden 'poof' of smoke, what was left was the taller figure of her big brother.

He came back

"Help is on the way, sis...! We just have to... wait right here, not move... and I'll be right by your side, I promise..."

(...oh. She didn't have a phone in her room, did she...? He had... called for help...?)

He knelt down next to her and rested his hand on her forehead. Cold to the touch, as always. But something about it was... soothing, to the slightest extent. Maybe it was because of how much she had been burning up on the inside. Maybe it was just the feeling of care that she felt within those eyes that were finally looking at her with clarity.

(...just for once, she felt grateful she didn't have a lock on her door. That she hadn't been able to shut him out. Just this once. Otherwise, she would have...)

"...Alchemist Cookie... what even happened to you, sis...? D-did the medicine you make not work? (I should've known it wasn't working, why didn't I...) What kind of sickness do you even have??"

"..." She didn't know whether or not to tell him what she had really been doing at this point. Two parts of her were conflicting, fighting for dominance over her crumbled heart: One of them held her original intentions, the other held those that had been more latent. Neither of them really felt like 'her.'

"...you know what, I'll just... leave that to Dr. Bones Cookie to figure out. That's their problem, not yours. You probably... don't even know, do you...?"

She did know. She knew what she was sick with.

She knew what made her sick.

She would've been able to tell him right now, in perfect detail, if she could just speak, she thought.

(Wait... who did he say...? She had to have misheard that, he was way too lazy to go through that much trouble...)

"(...that look in your eyes...)" He sounded confused and... guilty. Since when did he feel guilty...? (...there was that one time...) "But..."

She couldn't tell if he was shocked or in shock, but whatever it was, it left him silent for a few seconds before he said, with an uncharacteristically perturbed voice:

"A-anyway, I'm just... lucky I could smell... all of this from my room, otherwise, uh... (Heh, maybe it's a good thing you didn't open the window when I asked you to, right...? Haha...)"

(Sometimes she forgot how good his senses were... when they weren't being fogged by his favorite intoxicant. Actually, maybe that was why she had forgotten: Because they were always too numbed to function to the fullest...)

...the one thing she could clearly see was the discomfort he was trying and failing to hide, trying to keep his eyes on her and away from the red, sticky, sweet substance spread on the floor...

Unfortunately, it was also on her- splattered on her dress and body, seeping into the undersides from where she had fallen into this red, disgusting mess, and there was still some left over around her mouth that she was unable to wipe off.

She knew her brother could sometimes get a little squeamish- it only ever showed, really, when he was 'low on juice,' though. He didn't have the capacity for any such feeling otherwise, she thought.

...he did tend to drink more after physical exertion, though...

She saw a mild burgundy glow coming from where she knew his eyes to be

"I'm... starting to wish I didn't take Sparkling Cookie's advice right about now..." His stomach growled like some kind of animal. What did he mean by that...? "Uh... (good thing I don't like jam as much as juice, otherwise I would've... n-no, no need to think about that...) Rushing around sure works up a thirst, huh? Let's just, hope they... get here, in time..."

("like jam")

(...the alternative...)

...

Seconds passed, maybe a minute, and the two of them just stayed together in silence. It felt like an eternity. What was taking so long...?

...

Alchemist Cookie's body was so ridden with toxin at this point, she didn't know if she even had enough time to wait for them. It was so unfair. Why did she have to change her mind? Why did she have to feel so conflicted? She didn't understand herself. She didn't understand anything.

...

"...V...Vam...pire... C-C-Coo...kie...?"

The words fought to escape her throat. Vampire Cookie immediately snapped to full focus:

"Wh-What is it, sis...??"

"...A...am, I... g...gon-gonna..."

She gasped for air as she tried to communicate. It was taking so much of her breath. She hadn't spoken in so long, too, that she wondered if her difficulty forming the words was because of her fatigued and deteriorating condition or if she just didn't know how to anymore, if that were even possible.

But with her brother's full concern attention, she choked out the final words as those annoying leaks in her eyes outflowed, for what she knew could be the final time they ever would:

"...crum...ble...?"

Why was she even asking him this?

Why was she even asking him this...?

..why did she want to hear what he had to say...? To a question that was surely unanswerable for him?

...

Was it just to see how he'd react...?

(...just to see if he'd react...?)

His eyes widened as soon as the words escaped her mouth.

"N-NO, NO!!! I-I mean, no!! Don't- That'll never happen, I won't let it...!" She could just make out the white of his fangs... as he was giving her some attempt at a comforting smile, even if she could tell despite the fading of her sight that it was faltering. "Don't even think about that, sis!! J-j-just- just relax, like I said, and everything will be fine... you hear me? You'll be fine, you'll be a-okay, please, I- I won't let anything happen to you, just... just hang in there, I... I..."

She felt a few drops of something slowly drip onto her face. That facsimile smile came to grief.

"...I-I don't know, if I can do anything... Please, just, hang on... I can't lose you, sis..."

He was...

He was crying.

His voice was breaking up as he desperately sobbed out his pleas: "D-don't make me lose you like this, sis, not like this, not this early... p-p-please, you have to hang on, just hang on... you- you know I really- you know I love you, y'know..."

I love you

Hearing those words, she finally felt a wave of peace wash over her, gently lighting up the darkness that had veiled her world of hurt all this time.

All this time, those were the words she had been crumbling to hear. The words she had wanted, needed to hear.

The words her body was currently breaking down over.

She was beginning to wonder if it really had to come to this just to hear them.

The exhaustion had finally worn down on her too far to persevere. Her muddied eyes so dull and lifeless were coming to a close.

"A-Alchemist Cookie!?!?!?! N-No, stay with me, STAY WITH ME!!!! ALCHEMIST COOKIE!!!!!"

Her hearing was fading away, and the last thing she heard was:

"...I need to go make another call, or three..."

"...when is she going to wake up?? IS she going to wake up!?!"

"S-slow down, slow down!! I'm doing everything I can!!"

Alchemist Cookie's eyes just barely cracked open. It was so... bright.

Was she...?

...she was lying in a bed, under the covers- she could recognize that feeling. She wasn't wearing her usual clothes, either- she couldn't feel those. And the smell of the room was very... antiseptic. And... like ice cream...?

She was still in pain, she was still sick, but it felt... less so than before.

(...she could hear a beeping sound...)

Her head felt lighter, but not light-headed. More so, as if a weight had been taken off...

Her hat was gone.

She was...

...finally beginning to see clearly...

It was so brightly lit, the entire room. Bright and clean, white and lighter blues all over the room...

After a few blinks, she began to make out her surroundings in more detail: There was a sink in one corner, a chair and a table in the other. Looking down without moving her head she saw she was... definitely in a bed, just as she'd felt. With calming blue covers pulled up to her waist.

...She was wearing some kind of pale blue outfit with darker dots. She couldn't feel much covering her arms beyond the shoulders.

Finally budging her head just slightly to the left, ignoring the aching that still followed her head's movement (yet it still somehow still felt less than how much it had hurt to move before), she saw her arm lying out to the side, and...

There was... an IV tube, hooked up to...

Some kind of... heart-shaped plastic bag...? A bag full of... red, on some kind of white and cyan-striped stand, hooked on by... bones?

She heard the beeping coming from next to the head of her bed, out of her field of view, but she could tell what it sounded like. (She wasn't sure if it sounded... right or not... She wouldn't be surprised.)

There was only one place this could be:

Dr. Bones Cookie's clinic... which was more like a fun-sized hospital, really. It was located at the opposite corner of the kingdom as her and her brother's home (Dr. Bones Cookie had expressed their wishes to have it built more toward the center of the kingdom when they moved in, but there wasn't any room.)

And looking to her right, she saw her brother and the doctor themself chatting away... closer to 'frantic bickering' than 'chatting.'

"C'mon, Doc, just tell me she's going to be okay, tell me she'll wake up-"

"H-hold on!! I'm a doctor, not a miracle-worker! And, to be frank, a miracle's the exact kind of thing we need right now..."

They looked down at their clipboard as her brother crossed his arms, seeming uncharacteristically on-edge. The doctor looked over in her direction, and...

"...Oh, my. Well, we officially have a miracle on our hands...!"

Vampire Cookie turned over towards her, locking eyes with her, and gasped.

Alchemist Cookie could immediately see her brother's dark eyes light up with emotion like a moonlit night sky through a window, despite the bags under his eyes that she never would have imagined him with (at least his eyes were their normal hue). His mouth grew into a smile so visibly brimming with... elation and relief. He didn't seem to be able to hold back:

"ALCHEMIST COOKIE!!!"

Vampire Cookie transformed in a poof and flew right at her, rattling the poor doctor's bones.

"C-CAREFUL!!" Dr. Bones Cookie cried. "Bats are known for spreading diseases, you know...!!"

Her brother ignored them and landed next to her head with maybe a little too much impact (but it didn't hurt more than she could ignore), immediately snuggling into her. That round, red juice bat with pointed ears and sleepy eyes- his body was as cool as ever, even in this form...

And yet it was just barely warm enough that she almost smiled. Almost.

"You're okay! You're actually okay....!"

"...I'm... here...?"

Dr. Bones Cookie grabbed her brother by the wing, lifting him up and away from her. Standing right next to the side of the bed, they held the bat up to their eye socket level, squinting at him with an annoyed look.

"Be careful!!" they warned.

"Well, sorry..." Vampire Cookie said sarcastically before poofing back into his usual form, which visibly startled the poor doctor. "But my dear sister almost crumbled..." he continued, and shrugged, "can't I celebrate that that didn't happen...?"

The doctor pointed at him with their pen and said: "A-as long as you don't touch her until I'm certain her condition is stable!! Do you even realize how brittle her dough was back there!? I'm surprised she didn't crumble before-"

"Okay, okay!! *sigh* I'll just, stand here, just... let me talk to her for a second, okay...?"

"..." They said nothing, but backed up slightly, nodded their head, and motioned as if to say go ahead before turning away to look at their clipboard papers. Probably something to do with her.

Alchemist Cookie looked at her brother, and he looked at her- eye to eye in complete reticence, and the uncertainty hanging in the air applied pressure, for someone to make the first move. She couldn't move her limbs, and her mouth tasted bittersweet. She just lay there, trying to communicate with her eyes to just go on and say it- whatever it was he had to say.

Her brother's expression became more somber as he finally shattered that tension looming between the two of them:

"Sis... why did you do it?"

"...?"

"Why did you..." the words came out of his mouth with an unsteady, shrinking tone: "poison... yourself?"

...it wasn't possible. He'd thought it was medicine. She'd told him it was medicine.

"...you... know...?"

"..."

The two of them just stared at each other, in seconds on end of uncomfortable eye contact and silence except in the midst of it she could hear Vampire Cookie mumble under his breath, something like "where did that spark in your eyes go...?" (and... she didn't know how to answer.)

"...Sparkling Cookie saw some... things around your room... put two and two together."

"...?" Sparkling Cookie had been there...? When??

Seeming to read her confusion, he went on:

"...I... called him, Herb Cookie and Mint Choco Cookie over when you passed out... I-I didn't know what else to do, they know more about that 'healing' stuff than I do..."

(...That was how she made it, wasn't it...?)

"...T-turns out, Sparkling Cookie couldn't really do anything for you since you were... not awake, you know. Can't give a drink to an unconscious Cookie and all..."

She was glad he didn't get to. The thought of it made her sick to her stomach...

(How was her stomach faring...?)

"So, he ended up, uh, looking around your room, 'cause we didn't, uh, kn-know what happened, and, uh... yeah."

He seemed... increasingly unsettled the more he recounted. She had a feeling she knew why.

"...He... said he recognized some of the things you had in there from what he read in some books. I think he meant the books he keeps checking out of the library for ya, 'cause he... said you absolutelywould have known, what those things would do to you, s-s-so..."

"..."

She didn't really know what to say to him. She hadn't planned for anyone to recognize her reagents and their uses... or lack thereof. She didn't have an excuse planned.

Vampire Cookie stared at her, contemplating, before he took a deep breath and said:

"...why did you do it? Why would you ever... do that, to yourself...? I just- I, I don't understand..."

She could see the tears beginning to pile up at the corners of his eyes, and it... still perplexed her, to some degree. As she readjusted to speaking, she blankly queried:

"You... care...?"

"...th-that shouldn't be a question..."

Alchemist Cookie looked away: "I... thought you didn't."

"...Wh-wh-what made you... what made you... think that...?"

(Her eyes looked back at him again. The look on his face... why did he seem so... upset?)

"..."

This was it, this was the moment she had been waiting for this entire time: The moment when she would look her brother dead in the eyes and finally divulge to him the disease that had been plaguing her mind, say the words, "you did."

"You did this to me."

...

But as much as it burned the back of her throat, the words just never came. And her head ached with the thoughts that she couldn't express.

She couldn't bring herself to say that.

She felt something burst in her eyes again. Embarrassing; there was no way to hide it this time.

Why did things always have to be so UNFIXABLE...?

"A-Alchemist Cookie, you're... y-you're crying..."

"I-I... I..." The words were so, so hard to form. Nothing felt right. Everything felt wrong. She felt so, sowrong. She couldn't take being wrong. But... her feelings had to come out. And they came out; she finally managed to spit it all out: "...I just... I couldn't... I couldn't take it anymore... I can't take it anymore..."

"...take... what...?"

She sniffled: "...you're always... it's always grape juice, it's all... it's everything to you, it's everywhere,every day, all the time, and I... I-I just feel like I'm nothing to you... I have to take care of you, when you get drunk and that's all the time... you can never take care of yourself or come home by yourself or do anything yourself... and you pass out and say weird things and you forget your own name and you forget my name a-and-"

Her voice was collapsing in on itself like a buckled floor, but she fought weary and bleary through the instability:

"A-a-and that's all I ever... all we ever do together is... because you're always so... intoxicated... it's like you forget about everything else... you forget about me... and you're always just..." She was breathing so hard that it hurt, "you never spend real time with me. It's always either at the bar o-or, or when you're at home you're still just drinking and drinking and..."

A heavy acid rain was drowning her voice and face. She didn't know if she was able to purge everything that had ravaged her on the inside, if she could get everything out in the right words, if her words would be right at all...

But... those feelings needed to get out.

She needed to get those feelings out.

It wasn't wrong just to feel, was it? When these feelings were designed to tell that something was wrong.

"I just... just... wanted, f-for you... to care about me... I-I couldn't take that, that... that I didn't matter as much, to you..."

"Alchemist Cookie..." he was trying to cover his face with his hands, she could see the glimmers of guilt in his tears, but he didn't look away from her. Contrarily, his stare became much more fixed as the words solemnly spilled from his heart mouth: "...you... you mean more to me than I can... I-I don't know what I'd do without you-"

"I know, s...someone has to ta-ake care of you... that's, the problem... I have to, but I can't... I can't take it..."

"Th-that's not what I... (crumbs, I didn't mean it like-)"

"I can't... I can't keep taking care of you... I'm sick of it... I'm sick of grape juice... I'm sick of seeing you drunk all the time... I'm sick of LIVING LIKE THIS...!" She coughed, but she could still breathe. She persisted: "I- I- I can't- I can't... I can't keep doing this... for the rest of my life... knowing that I'm going to crumble before you ever will eventually and then who will take care of you after that??" She took a deep breath. "I-I-I... I'm just a normal Cookie and you're not... Wh-why do we have to be so unequal...?Wh-why- why do I have to be to be so INADEQUATE...!?"

"D-don't say that, STOP!!!" He slapped his hands over his mouth immediately, his eyes widening and looking down at them. After seconds of evident processing, slowly returning to meet her gaze again, his next words were immediately at a lower volume and gentler tone: "...Please..." He almost reached one hand out at her before stopping himself, "Alchemist Cookie, you're my little sister, you shouldn't beworrying about... stuff like this, you shouldn't be thinking anything like this, you're... you're too young for that, you... you're..."

His hands went back up to his face again, this time burying himself enough to muffle his voice just slightly.

"You're too young to crumble... I don't- You have a whole life ahead of you, you have- you have so much time left, why would you... wh-why cut it short...?"

(...why was that his fixation...?)

"..." the waterworks still welled in her eyes, but her voice grew stabler yet also quieter, colder just like his hugs. But she couldn't move. "...I just... wanted things to change. I wanted to be happy."

"...you weren't happy..."

It wasn't a question.

Vampire Cookie folded his arms, eyes cast down, tears trickling and... contemplative.

"...I... didn't even realize... I-I mean, I guess I started to-"

(Started to...?)

She cut him off:

"Of course you didn't notice, with how happy you are all the time. You're really lucky, aren't you? Life's so good to you all the time... Everyone wants to be friends with you, you just have everything and you never have to work for it, you never have to care about your health because you're special... and you tell me I need to stop worrying about things, but I have to worry about you because you don't worry about anything, but I- I need to worry about you because you'll probably get into something stupid while you're drunk or just stop... stop taking care of yourself everywhere that matters and, I can't let you do that, I can't let you be alone when someone has to take you home and... and..."

She felt as if a world's worth of weight was upon her, a world of pain that she was forced to live in. Alone.

"I just don't understand, why you get to be so happy, when I don't..."

"...I'm not."

"...wh-what?"

"Alchemist Cookie, I... it's not like that, but..." as he stared into her eyes again, he sighed: "...I don't never worry about anything, I'll admit it. The truth is... I'm... always kinda worried... sorta... you know..."

He looked over to something out of her field of view- by the head of her bed. It was where she heard the beeping sound coming from.

"...you're always working yourself so hard, sis... too hard... you basically never relax, I have to remind you to sleep half the time. You think I don't get worried about you...?" He paused before continuing: "I... kinda always felt like something like this would happen someday- not the same thing, but... that you'd just give up taking care of yourself because you're so dedicated to your work. Or that one day I'd just come into your room and see that some experiment gone wrong did you in, and..."

(His breathing hitched...?)

"...I-I... I can't lose you like that..."

"..." Alchemist Cookie blinked away any remaining droplets. Still processing what she was hearing, her only words were: "You're going to lose me eventually..."

"...I- I know. I don't like to- I don't want to think about that... any of this... I-I've always tried to not think about it..."

"...is that why you drink juice all the time?"

He attempted to mumble something under his breath- but he was just loud enough and he was just close enough that she could just barely make it out:

"(I don't know. Maybe more than I need to, I guess...)"

"..."

...

As the saying went: "The first step is admitting you have a problem."

He started speaking clearly again, looking back to her yet another time- and he looked just a little more regretful than even before:

"...I know it's nothing like... what you've been going through, I'm not trying to compare that, I just... want you to know that I do care about you, sis, I just... gosh, when you yelled at me that one time- what was it, two weeks ago now?- I knew something was wrong, but I didn't know it was this much-"

"You mean... the time I yelled at you, in my room...?"

(...she felt just a small pang of guilt about the intensity of her ire in that moment...)

"Hmm? Oh, that was... that too I guess, but I mean earlier than that. Where was it again? Living room, I think...? Yeah, that! Probably two and a half weeks ago, I think..."

"...that was..."

...two and a half weeks ago...?

...she hadn't even been poisoning herself for that long, and things had escalated this far...?

How potent was that solution of hers...?

...

Despite the nagging of her own insatiable interest, she knew that, perhaps, this was a knowledge that was better of not known, to herself at the very least. For her own sake. She didn't want to stare into that abyss again.

...

Two and a half weeks ago. She had outpoured her anger two and a half weeks ago.

Two and a half weeks ago, her feelings had finally boiled over. She had gotten to concocting her plan to poison herself with that sick solution...

And for what? For what had all of this been?

Would this have really been the solution to all her problems?

...

If she hadn't survived to explain everything to Vampire Cookie, he wouldn't have realized a thing. He wouldn't have stopped drinking grape juice. He probably would've started drinking more of it just to cope with the loss...

...

Two and a half weeks ago.

Somehow, he had kept track of the time.

And he remembered. He remembered her outburst.

He remembered her.

...

While she was beginning to think back on those weeks, on everything she hadn't paid attention to before, her brother kept on talking:

"That was when you told me you didn't want to, uh, look after me..." he hugged his arms around himself and looked down to the side, embarrassment showing through the regretful smile he was trying to put up, "I, uh, didn't even really get it fully until I was talking to Sparkling Cookie one night, when I went out... and uh, he told me that he always calls you to take me home when I, can't do it myself... and I didn't even realize how often you had to do that, I thought it was just a few times, haha..." his laugh didn't really sound amused as he brought one hand up to his face, "...I didn't even... remember half of those times..."

"...yeah. I can guess."

"And I thought that was all that you meant. So, I told him to stop calling you, and-"

"You... got your friends to take you home, didn't you...?"

That night Cinnamon Cookie had carried her brother home, then the other time that Sparkling Cookie did the same... How could she have been so oblivious...?

"...I... didn't even realize you had done that... I even talked to them, but..." her eyes turned away from him, "I... guess I was just so focused on how you were still drinking grape juice, I didn't feel like anything was changing..."

"...I...is that why you did it, then...? Above everything else? Because I have to drink juice?"

"..."

She fell more silent than she would have expected to be at this question. She was imagining, over and over again in her head, the various reasons she could give for why she had done what she did- many of which had something to do with grape juice- and the exact ways to lay it out, to get the perfect emotional response, but...

No. None of it felt right, really. None of it was perfect.

Even now, with them spilling everything within their hearts to each other- none of it was perfect. She knew she had so much more to say, and he probably had more too, but the flow of conversation would carry them away before they could get it all across, when they weren't holding themselves back. How long would it take of conveying these ill-defined feelings in words, over and over again, until they finally understood each other? Would it be days? Weeks? Months? Years?

"...I-I don't know..."

Really, that was both true and untrue- she had a multitude of reasons, compounding upon each other to poison her mind- but...

None of her reasons were right. Nothing. The action she had taken in and of itself was just so wrong, there was no way she could justify it anymore. Why had she done that to herself!? It hadn't done any good in the end. Things had been changing for the better around her, Cookies had been caring for her well-being, and it was exactly because she had been so dedicated to her own self-destruction that she had not seen any of it...

(...she really needed to apologize to Sparkling Cookie, didn't she...?)

And to her brother...

She knew it would be foolish of her to tell him, "it's because you don't care."

Because she knew that was wrong.

She was seeing that on full display right now.

She had seen it the entire time.

But it was only now beginning to click.

"...you were... you were actually trying to care for me when I... started doing this, weren't you? When you checked in on me... and I yelled at you..."

"Oh. Yeah. Uh, when Sparkling Cookie told me you were... 'sick,' he pretty much... banned me from the juice bar, temporarily. And told me to cut back on the juice until you were better. And... I knew he was probably right by that. How was I supposed to take care of you if I couldn't even take care of myself?Uh... yeah. But I don't really know how to 'cut back,' so I kinda... went back and forth on too much and too little. Left me really thirsty a lot. Thought it'd be fine to try and look for a drink around your room that one time, but... (gosh, the stuff you said there was... I probably should've seen all of this coming...) I didn't want to..."

He seemed to grow more uncomfortable talking about this, scratching the back of his head nervously.

"I knew I wouldn't be able to resist. So, I just... decided to stay out of your room, after that. You know how I get when I'm... 'low on juice,' right...?"

(He hadn't kept trying to check up on her in her room after that, but she had noticed him hanging out around her more anyway, the few times she left the room. He had... tried to make sure she was nourishing herself...

...Those two and a half weeks, he really had been able to tell she was sick... No thanks to any toxicant, but the few times she'd communicated with other Cookies... and he had done what he could with what he was given, each time...

She really never had needed to dance so close with death, had she...?)

"..."

He always drank more after physical exertion.

But she could only really think of one time she had seen him get ravenous

The day he became abnormal.

Split wood on the floor

Spilled puddles of red

Desperation dripping with hunger

Violet consumed by burgundy

"...yes. I don't want to think about that..."

"...am I really that scary...? Well, I guess if Dr. Bones Cookie's a good metric to judge by, then... (heh...)"

Alchemist Cookie's eyes moved to the other Cookie in the room. She could see that Dr. Bones Cookie was trying to let the two have their moment and focus on whatever papers were on their clipboard, but couldn't do much to hide the anxiousness on their face looking back and forth between those and the siblings.

She knew that they'd always expressed their own concerns about Vampire Cookie and his condition, but they certainly seemed to know more about the type of Cookie he was, about his needs, about how he functioned in general... but Vampire Cookie would rarely ever show up for scheduled checkups. Alchemist Cookie always did for her own, and she... hadn't considered asking them about him.

...how had she missed something so obvious?

(...she'd been missing obvious things for the past two and a half weeks...)

"...Dr. Bones Cookie?"

"H-huh!?"

The doctor, startled at the mention of their name, almost dropped their clipboard but managed to catch it in the nick of time. Vampire Cookie tilted his head, but said nothing.

"G-Good Tingly-Bones! Is there something wrong???" the doctor asked as they checked through their papers, making sure they were still in order. (Alchemist Cookie was dreading when she would have to hear whatever those said...)

"No. I just... I know my brother has to drink juice to sustain himself, right...? But... is that really true? Is there really nothing else he can-"

They immediately sighed, as Vampire Cookie shifted uncomfortably in place but didn't say a word. They started to explain:

"Err, your brother is an... interesting Cookie. His dough contains around 10% strong grape juice- that would be strawberry jam in any other grown Cookie, but-"

"He's different. In a lot of ways. I know already."

She didn't intend for that to sound so bitter.

"...w-well," they continued, "they don't exactly put too much about vampires in medical literature, so what I do know is limited, but... normally they have to drink the jam of other desserts... but if his body's composition substitutes juice for jam, then-"

"My brother substitutes juice for jam as well..."

Vampires were jamsuckers- She'd heard about that. She'd never seen her brother personally do such a thing... except in a few scuffles, but that was just the way he fought dessert monsters and such- he didn't do such things recreationally, and never to another Cookie.

...But what she saw in movies and read and novels, heard about in horror stories, about Cookies like him, the things she tried to deny due to the occasional discrepancy and knowing her brother wasn't a monster...

How could she keep denying her brother's namesake at that point...?

Vampire Cookie turned his back to the other two, as if he didn't want any attention paid to him.

(...they were kinda talking about him as if he weren't right there in the room, weren't they...?)

Dr. Bones Cookie paid him no mind:

"That's my theory, at least. But make no bones about it, he certainly does have it in him to drink jam if he's desperate enough..." they shot a mildly disgruntled look in her brother's direction, "Never set up a jam transfusion with a starving vampire in the room, if I've learned anything..."

She could see shivers travel up her brother's back, and his face turned redder than its usual tinge- but the way it burned his cheeks was unfamiliar compared to the drunken flush she was accustomed to seeing him with. He whispered a "sorry" under his breath with his eyes pointed towards her. Dr. Bones Cookie's focus appeared to shift before Alchemist Cookie could bargain ask any further questions:

"Speaking of which: Vampire Cookie, I need to discuss a few things with you..."

Dr. Bones Cookie pulled Vampire Cookie to the side- or at least, they tried to. Vampire Cookie wasn't so easily moved.

"What things...?"

"Err, concerning the patient. I-I know this isn't my field of expertise, but I... I just have a few concerns, and, um..." the doctor glanced over at Alchemist Cookie for a moment, and then returned their attention to Vampire Cookie as they lowered their voice to a whisper that was still not low enough for her not to hear: "(have you thought about signing her up for counseling with Chamomile Cookie...??)"

"..."

Vampire Cookie seemed more compliant after that. The two stepped a bit further away- just far enough that as they talked to each other quietly, she couldn't hear a single word they were saying. Probably something about her that they didn't want her to hear just yet, she assumed...

(...counseling... they were going to put her into counseling...

Something about that knotted up her stomach further than it had already been twisted. Counseling was for Cookies who needed help, for Cookies who cried. Alchemist Cookie didn't need help, she didn't cry.

...

Oh, who was she even kidding at this point?

Gosh, she was really SICK, wasn't she...?)

...she was caught between a rock and a hard place.

Juice or jam.

...

Nothing could ever be perfect, could it? He seemed so deeply discomforted with just the sight of strawberry jam, and of course he'd be: Hungering for the lifeblood of another living being, that was... a disturbing idea, even to her. It wasn't even up for consideration.

Neither of them would be happy like that.

She didn't want him to be unhappy like that.

...in the back of her head, she did ponder what life would be like like that, if he drank jam instead of juice. But the reveries of her brother being more active, more aware, more... there were quickly broken by visions of him sucking the life out of other Cookies' necks like a scene right out of a horror movie.

She didn't think he would hurt her... maybe. Otherwise she probably wouldn't be alive right now.

(...once she thought about it, what she pictured of her brother acting ideally... wasn't even that different from the way he was acting right now, or... even how he acted normally... when he wasn't too drunk, at least...)

That grape juice aroma that had lingered around their lives, it was by no means a good thing. It would've been so much better if they could just be rid of it entirely. But they couldn't have that. Life would never be perfect. But for what they could do, for what they did have, it was just something they had to put up with.

'It could've been worse' was never the best thought to turn to- but even it had its uses...

...

It could've been worse.

He could've been so much worse

He could've been like those vampires from the movies and myths, cruel and uncaring and violent- some cold count, creeping around the darkness, hunting unsuspecting Cookies like a predator stalking its prey...

But for all his flaws, all his shortcomings, everything he could improve on, everything he should improve on...

He cared about her. Enough to try cutting back on juice by himself. Enough that he cared about her happiness even when he didn't know the full extent of her pain.

He came all the way out here to the hospital just to be by her side, when normally such a thing was too much work to him. He tried to respect her boundaries when he saw it was getting to her. He tried to cook for her, when he had never touched a stove, because she wouldn't eat...

She'd thought he wouldn't have cared if she were to crumble right before his eyes.

Those same eyes had dampened her crumbling face with a gentle rain of tears as he said "I love you..."

(He loved her enough that he was willing to put in the effort to make a change.

He didn't really know how to do it the best way, and maybe things could never go as far as she'd have dreamed of, but... maybe, they could work it out...)

"Alchemist Cookie?"

She had been lost in her thoughts for long enough that the other two had finished their conversation and walked back to the side of her bed. Dr. Bones Cookie was trying to address her while her brother was standing next to them... and while she couldn't read his expression, it didn't seem very joyous.

"...what is it?"

She could read their deliberation in the stuttering of false starts, of "well"s and "you see"s, as they struggled for words, nervous sweat running down, before they at last got a sentence going:

"(How do I say this...) S-so, from the jam test results and what your brother said was found in your room... Good Tingly-Bones, kid, you shouldn't even be alive right now!! H-How much of that mixture of yours did you drink!?"

She wasn't shocked by their disbelief- she'd felt about the same way, after all. But what surprised her, thinking about how to answer their question... was the answer she ended up giving:

"I-I... don't know... I think it was... I drank it every day, for... a week, and a half...?"

(Two and a half weeks didn't leave much up to interpretation. But it still just felt too short... but... no, no, things had really just deteriorated that quickly. And that was what confounded her so. And yet it all blurred together in her head and dragged on for so long...)

"...how much of it every day, exactly...?"

"...I-I wasn't keeping track, I just filled the vial in my room, I think..."

She could hardly fathom the lack of plan or reason in what she had no way of denying had been her own fully conscious actions. She wasn't even sure what to think of herself at this point.

Dr. Bones Cookie sighed, murmuring something about 'treatment' before speaking with a resigned voice: "I-I'll just... keep it brief: That concoction contained some of the most dangerously toxic substances known to Cookiekind... and those substances are all over your body right now. Most of them don't even have known antidotes...! I've given you what I could, but most of what I can do is treat the symptoms until this clears out of your body on its own... (hopefully). You'll be staying here until I'm certain you're in a good condition...!"

None of this was anything she didn't either already know or couldn't have figured out on her own. And yet, hearing the words said out loud, she felt the weight of her circumstances really sink in.

...but one thing stood out to her, regardless:

"...I-I can't go home...?"

"Your body can't fight this on its own. I-it's going Tibia LONG road to recovery, but with proper care... (well, let's just hope your condition stays stable, at least...)."

Alchemist Cookie frowned. Did they really have to try lightening the mood like that...?

"...Dr. Bones Cookie...? How long will it be...?"

"...my best guess right now is at least a month..."

(...that didn't sound like a concrete estimate...)

Vampire Cookie pulled his cape over his face.

"D-D-Doc said that..." he started with a lachrymose voice, "that no one can really do anything but hope for the best right now. Nothing else. We c...can't control what happens, s-so..."

He turned away and began walking towards the door sulkily.

"I should get going, visiting hours are over. I'm taking too much of their time anyways..."

It didn't even feel as if it had been that long. Were visiting hours that short? Or... how long had he been waiting for her to wake up...?

The sound of his footsteps as he trudged to the door made Alchemist Cookie feel... something that called her to ask, just to make sure:

"You'll come back tomorrow, right...?"

He stopped just before he could touch the handle, at first seeming completely frozen for a few seconds before he at last responded:

"...y-yeah, of course...! Just..." he looked back at her, "don't go anywhere! Okay?"

And with that, he opened the door and staggered out, letting it slam shut behind him.

The weeping was loud enough she could still hear it, unmoving for minutes until finally fading away.

And thus, Alchemist Cookie was left to intensive care.

Not exactly the intensive care unit, but she couldn't be picky like this.

"...Dr. Bones Cookie?" Alchemist Cookie said. "...when do you think I'll be able to move, or... touch things.... or do anything again?

"Hmm... well... you're able to communicate. That's a good start."

The recovery process over the next few days didn't have a lot to do, with her being stationary as Dr. Bones Cookie managed her condition and kept it from worsening. Even just the fact she hadn't been able to eat for those days was causing problems; Dr. Bones Cookie explained to her that had her brother not told them at the scene about her malnourished state, they would've immediately put her onto parenteral nutrition... which would've triggered refeeding syndrome. She had to be slowly and carefully replenished, gradually increasing back to normal amounts... via catheter in the arm. It wasn't even certain if the damage to her stomach could heal in full.

(She asked them to give it to her while she was asleep. She wanted to be able to move freely the moment she recovered)

Despite this lack of action, her second day of regained consciousness was... not what she would call boring, with a curiosity like hers. She was constantly asking questions about her condition, and when she wasn't doing that, she was thinking over it herself. After all, medicine was a key facet of alchemy.

Would she ever be able to do alchemy again? Was she still even Alchemist Cookie without that? She didn't have anything else that had defined her at this point. She didn't know what to think of herself.

As promised, Vampire Cookie came to visit, more punctual than she had ever seen him been in her life. He seemed a bit less 'out of it' than when he had left, from the moment he was allowed into the room. But he still seemed a little off, the way he was so obviously catching his breath, sweating, as if he had ran all the way there from their home.

...

That was it, wasn't it.

That wasn't it for the odd behavior, though- as soon as he could breathe, he immediately went on questioning her about how the doctor was treating her (well), how comfortable she was (as much as she could be), if she was doing any better (...)...

...he was more alert than usual, more agitated. It was apparent to her that he was still depriving himself, even though she was no longer in his care. He kept pulling his cape over his mouth whenever he wasn't speaking, and when he did speak, she couldn't help but notice that faltering tone of his voice. That barely noticeable reddish tinge tainting his eyes, threatening to consume

...he seemed hesitant to stand too close to her. Whenever even just a hand or a foot would cross some theoretical line, he'd pull it back immediately, as if he couldn't be near her.

...

That conversation she had had with Dr. Bones Cookie must have really gotten to him, hadn't it? Everything she had said that day in general, to the point he's ended up in a situation like this: denying himself the satiation that would give himself security here.

"I-I'm sorry if I'm a bit... antsy today, I just... i-it's just been really stressful with everything happening, I just-"

His stomach grumbled, shutting him up and putting a look of apprehension clear on his face. He backed a few steps away from her.

She rolled her eyes, just as a gesture to tell him that his fears were all in his mind: He wouldn't do anything to her; it simply wasn't in his nature.

She trusted him.

She wasn't used to doing that, now that she thought about it. But after what happened in her lab, she felt she could start.

...

The following days of slow recovery, each and every one, he would come in like this. Every single day, for every last minute allotted to visit, he would keep his distance from her, yet still question her as much as possible. She could tell this was eating him up, but she didn't really know how to address it. She didn't want him to be unhealthy.

"...just remember to feed yourself, silly," she said abruptly one day as he left.

"Huh? O-of course I will, I haven't been... d-don't worry about it, sis. It's your turn to relax, anyways."

"But-"

The door cut her off. She made a mental note to shift her research into vampirism the moment she could pick up a book again. Whenever that day would be. If that day would ever come. Every single night, as she was dragged down into sleep, her greatest fear was that she wouldn't rise the next day.

It was the very next day that she would finally regain the strength to move. She didn't try to sit up without the support of the bed- she wasn't sure she was quite ready for that yet- but she could finally lift her arms. Every movement ached, and it was clear her mobility still had a lot to improve on, but it was there.

After some discussion and a close examination of her dough, Dr. Bones Cookie finally supposed they could relent on the 'no touch'

She saved her energy for when her brother arrived, and the moment he sauntered in looking in much better shape than when she had last seen him. He seemed less tired, no signs that he had ran- probably started walking sooner, given he still arrived on time- and he immediately was much more comfortable standing close to her. His eyes were perfectly purple, too. Calling him out must have made him get himself together, she supposed.

It was almost jarring to see how much more relaxed his demeanor had become, however.

"Alchemist Cookie, hey! What's up? How's it been?"

...well, he was acting more like his usual self, at least. Casually leaning against the air, floating next to her with his arms behind his head- it was the grape juice smell that confirmed it to her, though: He really had listened to her this time.

She felt nihility creeping up on her. Even though she had been the one to tell him to do it, she still felt this bitter-tasting fear in her that now she had been stable for long enough, things would just go back to the way they had been before. That he would forget this had ever happened. That he'd stop caring again...

"I'm still stuck here. Not much has changed... except for this:"

After some struggle to muster up her energy, she lifted her arms up and held them out and open. And immediately, Vampire Cookie gasped:

"Wait... does this mean what I think it means...?"

He tossed a look at Dr. Bones Cookie, who, after a moment's pondering, seemed to realize what he was referencing and answered:

"W-well, I suppose so... but if you're going to do that again, then you at least need a SHOWER first for sanitation's sake-"

"I washed my hands, that's good enough for me!!"

"H-hey!!!"

Paranoid as they were well-meaning, the doctor tried to grab hold of his cape, but he had already poofed into his smaller form before they could stop him (and all they could do was sigh in resignation). And before Alchemist Cookie could react, she found herself hit square in the chest by the force of what could've easily been mistaken for a baseball if he hadn't been so soft.

She took the smaller juice bat into her hands gently, holding him out in front of her. The smile on his face was almost infectious...

"You look so stupid right now, you know."

She couldn't help it. It was such a big, dumb smile.

A big, dumb, warm and loving smile.

"You really..."

Her mouth twitched and her eyes softened. He really was that happy to see her get better. He really cared that much.

"You..."

She took him up closer to her face, and as he nuzzled against her cheek...

She smiled.

She hadn't had a true, happy smile on her face in so, so long.

She hadn't felt truly happy in so, so long.

She had forgotten what it had felt like, to feel secure in the world, that others loved her; to feel that love as it existed right next to her in all its warmth without obstruction or oblivion; to feel all warmth of emotion through the cold of the physical body. She felt that emptiness being filled.

He felt warm to her. She didn't mind if he was cold to the dough. The warmth and love of a familial embrace had finally reached her, and she felt happier than she could ever remember being in recent times. Maybe ever. She didn't know anymore, and she didn't need to; It didn't matter. She was just so happy to have this moment, to have her brother here with her, to be here right now and to experience this joy.

This love.

"...sis? You're crying all over me, y'know... are you alright?"

"Y-yeah, this is... *sniffles* I've never been better..."

She hugged him close to her chest, with all of her limited strength. As limp as her arms were... perhaps that was a good thing: She likely would've crushed him otherwise. She was squeezing him as if she'd never gotten a hug before, as if he hadn't given her one a million times over.

...he had. But this time, it just felt different. She wasn't being clung to obnoxiously by a tipsy Cookie; this was a genuine moment of reciprocal tenderness, where everything felt just right.

This was something personal. Meaningful.

"...well, I'm not complaining."

"I-I can't remember the last time I was this happy..."

She felt all warm and fuzzy inside...

She felt so happy to be alive.

"(...maybe Dr. Bones Cookie was right...)"

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

(She had a feeling she knew what he meant... and maybe she didn't have to worry about it. It would spoil the moment, anyways.)

Her recovery seemed to go by a lot faster after this, with her gradually regaining strength in her limbs even if the pain remained. Her brother continued visiting everyday, and now she was the one asking him questions- making sure he was still taking care of his own needs (even if he looked like it already), that they would be hanging out as much as possible the moment she was out of there (she already had several activities planned out), and...

With his little juice bat self nestled in her hair, she asked:

"...why didn't you ever tell me you weren't happy?"

"...hmm?"

"I remember what you said, you know. You said you aren't really that happy."

"...well, why didn't you ever tell me you're never happy?"

"..."

"Besides-"

"I just didn't think you'd care, I guess."

"...Alchemist Cookie-"

"B-but, you always talk about how much you love your life, right...? How do you love your life if you aren't happy??"

"...you know, sis, there's always going to be stuff that makes you unhappy. And sometimes you can't do anything about it. But... I guess what I've learned is... not to think about it all the time. You just have to think about the stuff that makes you happy instead, y'know...? Like, say..."

She felt his wings pressed down on her head.

"My most precious treasure."

"...what would that be?"

She tilted her head, her eyes shifting upwards despite not making him more visible. He replied, shortly yet sweetly:

"My brilliant little sister who's the smartest Cookie on Earthbread."

"..."

She didn't feel as if she deserved to be called that. But... it felt good hearing someone say it.

Hearing him say it.

"Love ya, sis."

"...love you too."

For a moment, she didn't really feel sick anymore.

~~~

The poison was finally clearing out of her system; the battle was over, and she had been victorious. But alas, war was not without its casualties:

Dr. Bones Cookie had been quite apologetic, and very apparently frustrated about their own limitations the entire time, even if no one held it against them that they were essentially running an entire miniature hospital by themself. When Alchemist Cookie was finally discharged, she was essentially wheelchair-bound. She wasn't incapable of walking, but the pain and fatigue that it brought was too much to be reasonable, and she was far too at risk of stumbling, falling, getting hurt-

The amount of time it would take to recover her walking ability was uncertain. If she ever did, then the disuse of her legs would likely mean she'd need physical therapy to be able to use them again. But at this point, she was just happy to go home...

Even if she would still need some degree of taking care of. The doctor still recommended she spend most of the day resting at the very least. Her brother would have to take care of her, against all protests of hers. She had been taken care of for long enough.

She was certain it made him no better than what he had been.

But he seemed... just fine with this prospect...?

"What if I never get better...? What if you're stuck taking care of me for the rest of my life?"

"C'mon, sis, aren't you the one who goes on about giving stuff in return...? Honestly, you shouldn't have been giving it in the first place, but... hey, at least now you get to sit back and relax, right?"

"..."

"...come on, give yourself a break for once. You deserve it, you know."

...

Recovery really was going to be a long process...

But she had her brother, and he was actually going to put in the effort to moderate himself. And she had never been more happy to be in those grape juice-smelling rooms of their home again.

(The smell had just barely begun to fade...)

And there at home at last, they were surprised by her brother's friends- Sparkling Cookie had been trusted to watch the house for all the times her brother was out to see her, and with how Vampire Cookie had so excitedly relayed the news to him that she was coming home that day, he had invited Herb Cookie and Mint Choco Cookie over to welcome them home.

...the latter two were clearly more there for her brother, and she supposed she couldn't blame them as beyond the belated 'thank you's for keeping her alive until the ambulance had arrived, she didn't really have anything to say to them either. They just didn't really know each other that well.

...

But the former, sitting to the side and patiently listening to the rest, chiming in here and there- she wheeled right up to him and plainly stated:

"I'm sorry."

"...for what?" He tilted his head slightly.

"..." she took a deep breath, in and out: "you were just trying to help me, and I was... really mad at you. You didn't deserve... that."

"...oh. Oh. I see... It's alright, Alchemist Cookie. I'm just happy to see you've recovered from your... sickness..."

He looked deeply uncomfortable with just that one last word.

"...you don't have to sugarcoat it, you know. I know you're the one who found out."

"..." his smile fell: "I won't pry, but... just know," he said with a gentle tone as he pushed some of her hair away from her face, "you can always come talk to me if you need someone to listen."

"..."

She smiled.

"...thanks, Sparkling Cookie."

That very night when they had come home together, once everyone else had left and it was just her and her brother again, as she was still getting used to her new mode of movement, Alchemist Cookie found she had trouble getting through the door to her own room. She would be able to just barely reach the doorknob, but the true problem lay in that her door opened outwards... and she wasn't that good at maneuvering herself, thus she didn't know if she could find a way to get around the door hitting her when it opened. She didn't know how to keep it open as she entered, either.

...she ended up having to ask Vampire Cookie for help, already. Just to get the door for her.

(...maybe asking for help wasn't so bad after all...)

She realized immediately upon entering the room how much tidier it was compared to how she had left it, after she had messed it up creating her concoction and neglected to clean up after herself. But now, even that poison of hers had been scrubbed from the cauldron, and under the moonlight through the now open curtains she could see: Neither jam nor venom spat smeared the floor...

Good riddance, she thought.

(She'd have to thank Sparkling Cookie for this, most likely...)

Stains were left behind- forever to remind of that incident, never able to be scrubbed clean. But perhaps some things were best left unforgotten.

Once she was close enough to her bed, she was able to use her limited walking ability to get herself into it. Crumbs, that hurt really bad.

...and her brother came to tuck her in, even though she tried to reject it.

"This is humiliating...!"

"There's nothing humiliating about a little TLC, sis."

"It just feels so... It's like you're treating me like a kid."

"...Alchemist Cookie, you are a kid."

"..."

She'd never really thought about it before, but...

She was a kid. Yet she'd never really gotten to be one. Always at work in her lab, always worrying about things she couldn't control... and always taking care of an adult who wouldn't care for himself. That had been her life for so long. That had been her 'normal.'

She didn't know how to live without asphyxia. She had always wanted to breathe, but now that she could, she didn't really know what to do with herself. Everything she could do had long since faded to obscurity in her mind. All those hobbies of hers had grown dusty, forgotten...

But... she could work on it now. She could go out and make friends and read books and look at the stars and do anything she wanted. She could finally enjoy alchemy again.

She had made a mental note earlier, hadn't she...? To get to work on something?

...she could throw that aside for now. Right now wasn't the time for that.

...she could spend quality time with her brother and he wouldn't be too drunk to remember, maybe. A lot of the plans she had come up with for them would probably need modification, given her current indefinite condition, but she wouldn't let anything stop her from having this, now that she had it.

She knew she could've had it more smoothly, but there was no going back. Things could've been worse, anyways. Better not worrying about things out of her control.

She had bettering things to think about now.

That very second day she was home, after getting changed out of that hospital gown she had left on (getting dressed was difficult, but it was something she could do by herself, lying on her bed...)- which she would have to wash and return later- she had her first real meal in a long time, and he was the one who cooked it. He insisted on learning this on his own, on learning to do things for himself.

For her.

(He was adamant on washing that hospital gown too)

It tasted... not too bad, really. She could appreciate the effort this time. She put on her best smile, and happily ate away. Even if it wasn't the best.

Maybe someday it could be great.

Just watching her eat seemed to overwhelm her brother with so much emotion, that before she could even take her last bite she found him crying over her shoulder with nothing but pure joy.

"W-welcome back, sis...!"

It had been so long since she had been in another Cookie's embrace and really embraced it for herself; something about it just brought her own emotions out. And the two of them spent a good minute or two crying in that awkward position, him standing next to her sitting at the table by that mediocre meal still cooked with love, just grateful that they were both alive and had each other and that they could finally communicate.

And it was their unspoken promise to put communication above all, because that could've saved them so much hardship in the first place.

And they were never going to let anything like this happen ever again.

Over the course of the month, healing had its bumps in the road. Alchemist Cookie and Vampire Cookie were trying their hardest to get better, to make things better- and they were getting better, of course. But both of them would sometimes fall back into old habits: Vampire Cookie would occasionally fail to keep himself in check, and Alchemist Cookie's issues were a chronic mess. He'd sometimes fall to temptation and drink enough to forget, and in turn she would cry her eyes out and sometimes fall to her darker urges, and he would cry his own eyes out the moment he saw what he caused.

But they were both aware, willing to communicate, and ready to work on it all; For themselves, for each other, for family. They'd try to keep an eye on each other, to keep an eye on themselves- Vampire Cookie especially. And the day he was able to go out to the bar and come home by himself, without needing another Cookie to cut him off- the two of them couldn't have been happier.

Beginning about a week and a half after she came home, her sessions with Chamomile Cookie were... cathartic, in a sense. She had been hesitant to spill to some Cookie that she didn't know, but the soothing, floral aroma of the cabin was enough to put her mind at ease, and she was assured that she could talk about anything on her mind. Knowing she wasn't forced to wrench things out against her will, she just started talking about her day.

...and eventually, she started loosening up, started spilling her feelings out over a cup of tea, and she found that a burden had been lifted. Chamomile Cookie would listen to her; that Cookie wasn't that conversational, but she was a Cookie who Alchemist Cookie could confide in.

She was able to engage more socially with other Cookies again. Pretty much the moment her acquaintances had found out she had 'been sick' (of course, certain details were never to be disclosed) and saw the lingering effects, they were all over her, so to speak. Always well-meaning, but sometimes they were a bit much.

...she'd never really thought of herself as having many real friends. Maybe really any. She just didn't keep in touch enough. She loved having friends, but they always came and went. But seeing so many Cookies going out of their way to talk to her again made her think, perhaps the problem was just that she hadn't been able to see them.

Gingerbrave was ever the friend to all, of course- the moment he'd seen her rolling around the Cookie Kingdom, he had so many questions about what happened to her and if she was healthy and, really, she didn't want to answer most of them. Fortunately, he wouldn't keeping pressing after she asked him to stop.

He tried to make an effort to include her in any big events- even if he didn't know too much about how wheelchairs worked or how to accommodate for them. But she did notice some construction work being done on the library for a while, and by the end of it a ramp had been installed.

She just had a hunch on who ordered that, even if it never directly came up between them. But she had it in her head to repay him someday, whenever she could figure out something suitable.

She was happy to go to the library again. She used to spend so much time there, immersing herself in stacks of books from opening to closing while the the smell of paper would stimulate her hunger for knowledge...

She decided to try actually checking out the books she'd read this time, to read at home for a change. Things had gotten much brighter around the house anyway; she actually had enough lighting to read, now. She wasn't sure if it was just from opening the curtains or what, but...

One day, she ran into Sparkling Cookie, returning those old textbooks she had memorized over. It... made her laugh once she realized what he'd been doing. Even if she had to thank him again.

(When had she last laughed, again...?)

Once, and only once, she even had Wizard Cookie of all Cookies just walk up to her out of the blue and hand her a 'get well soon' card, muttering something into his scarf that she couldn't quite make out.

...she couldn't exactly call it a half-hearted effort considering he left an entire hand-written message, but...

'Dear Alchemist Cookie,'

He had written that above the card's printed-on 'Get Well Soon!' message. The rest continued below:

'I sincerely hope that you're in good health right now.

What happened to you? Did you get injured or something? Some kind of alchemical accident?

(P.S. if that's what happened, maybe try MAGIC next

Actually whatever happened, just get better, will you? It's so BORING without you around! I miss debating with you, honestly. (Don't tell anyone I said that or you're as good as crumbled)

Sincerely,

Wizard Cookie'

...it was so funny to her, she had to stifle a laugh when she read it. This was his best attempt, just to say that he cared...?

...he cared...

Even her bitter rival cared.

...Cookies cared about her. Cookies looked at her when she came by, smiled at her, listened to her speak about alchemy on end...

(And maybe they'd always done that. But she'd never looked for it until now.)

And if no one else had time for her some days, she could always come home and cozy up to her brother on the couch at night, and he'd wrap an arm or his cape around her while she read herself to sleep or ramble to him and he'd try to keep up. And he was so pleasantly cool, just enough to warm her heart.

And whatever the future would be, however much she'd recover in the months proceeding, she knew: It was better.

#cookie run #cookie run fanfic #alchemist cookie #vampire cookie #sparkling cookie #dr bones cookie #(no one else is prominent enough I think to really warrant a tag)#kairiki bear #venom kairiki bear #this fic is like. Due to the 'unconventional' nature of the subjects I don't even know if most trigger tags work because they #Aren't really. Specific enough. Like would this be triggering for most people as self-harm if it's by poisoning.#People don't really do that in real life or at least I haven't heard of anything like that being like a thing #But does the physical imagery matter as much compared to the psychology?#I genuinely don't know. This is why I have the huge TW list at the front. But I will put this here:#Ask to tag #tw poisoning #<- this is unambiguous I think like this is just straight-up Poison like. So it's the one tag I can add on knowing it's doing its job right #But like y'all tell me for the others if I should tag other things please but do not skip the TW before you read and please tell me #If anything should be added to it after reading I genuinely just. *slaps roof of fanfic* /ref if you know what I mean #grape siblings #<- i forgot to put this on and it's kinda awkward adding this after all of that but. This fic is all about these two pretty much.

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elioslover · 1 year ago

Text

Little Angel, Only Freak? - Grapejuice, Halloween.

🎃 Halloween Flashbacks 🎃

This can be read as a stand-alone piece! 👻 I've really been wanting to include some flashback moments from Harry and Klutz's past, so I thought Halloween would be the perfect place to start!

Premise: Harry has been pining over Y/n - his best friends slightly older sister - for as long as he can remember.

GRAPEJUICE MASTERPOST / Other Writing

NB! Y/n's (Klutz) brother's name is Jack. In Grapejuice it's mentioned that Harry may have wrote some songs about Klutz. These events were inspired specifically by two of his masterpieces lmao, so lemme know if you notice any references hehe. - Em. xo

Warnings: Drinking/smoking (this oneshot contains quite a bit due to the fact that they are attending a lot of Halloween parties). Age-gap (2yrs). Self-insert she/her.

Word count: 5.4k

🍷 2011 🍷

Sitting with your legs criss-crossed, on the kitchen counter which is perhaps the highest off of the ground you are most comfortable with. Your firm belief in keeping your feet on the soil, neither under deep waters nor up in the air.

That aside, you are eating a toastie, courtesy of your own cooking- rather surprised that not only did you manage to get ready on time, but actually finished with plenty to spare.

Indulging in your meal, the sound of Travis Scott accompanying your chewing, Harry's sudden appearance in the kitchen is startling, but nothing out of the ordinary. Besides, there have been plenty of worse and compromising interactions in the past.

“Aren’t you too old to be trick-or-treating?” You mumble through your food-filled mouth, eyeing him from top to bottom, shamefully admiring his choice of costume. Perhaps you were a sucker for a sexy pirate- though a large part of you believes the 'sexy' part was unintentional.

Harry only smiles and meanders further into the kitchen, invading the fridge for god knows what before giving up, strolling over to you, invading your space in an instant and with audacity you have never witnessed prior, he snatches the half-devoured triangle of a toastie and takes a hearty bite before speaking through muffled chews,

“Age is but a construct.”

“I guess I agree.” You shrug, thoughts travelling to the dangerously explicit fantasies you experienced at the mere existence of Tom Hard, your brain concocting a dreamland in which a 15-year age gap would be graciously welcomed.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Harry archives the moment. An entirely separate dreamland surrounds him and yourself. But, you still seem so far away, Harry is aching to extend the conversation, “Where are you off to, a Tarantino-themed party?”

“That my dear, is none of your business.”

“Well for what it’s worth,” he informs both sweetly and sultry, “you make a beautiful *Viper.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Styles.” You open the gates and let your guard down, needing him to know you notice him- see him, and if vulnerability is the way to make that clear, god willing, something inside you wishes to share it.

Harry is stunned- your words are one thing, your tone is another. He wants, no, he needs to hear your softness, again and again. Then there is an invasive double honk and it can only belong to the red Mazda parked in the driveway, stark headlights shining through the kitchen curtains.

You hop off the counter without a care in the world, straighten out your costume, and check your makeup in the reflection of the microwave before strolling straight past Harry and into the entrance hall, grabbing your matching purse. You raise your voice to address both your brother and the sexy pouting pirate stunned to silence,

“That’s my ride." Certain they've both heard, you open the front door and as an afterthought, call over your shoulder, "Save me a Mars bar!”

👻

The boys are in line for the entrance to a club that Jack stated would be "popping", but there is a clear age limit and Harry's anxiety is already reaching its limit. He turns to Darth Vader- ignoring how ridiculous his friend is- and Harry cautiously ponders aloud,

“Are you sure we’re even gonna get in?”

“Trust me.” Jack sternly enforces.

“What is this hold you have over me?” Harry concedes.

By what could either be deemed a miracle or exceptional finesse, it's not long before the boys have their left wrists stamped with a small ink jack-o-lantern, and are entering the club.

“See! Am I ever wrong?” Jack projects against the booming bass, but Harry certainly hears him, more focused on the dissipating nerves being replaced with confidence.

“Drinks!” Jack doesn't allow a retort, making his way to the bar with the assurance that Harry is following close behind. Harry was, and after a few other patrons are tended to, the boys order their choices and cheer a duet of tequilas in celebration of their success.

The tequila is still travelling down Harry's throat when a voice, so sweet and so familiar, almost causes him to choke, his eyes opening, neck dropping to look at the person who had exclaimed "Oi!". Unsurprisingly, you are standing there, arms on your hips, a look of disappointment painted across your face,

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“To be fair, I didn’t expect you to be here either.” Jack shrugs.

“I thought you were trick-or-treating, Jack." You chide.

“Oh, please, we’re seventeen. You knew that was a cover.” His eye-rolls with a jovial smirk.

“Still. I thought at least a house party.”

“Which is exactly where you said you would be.”

“Shut up.” Your last line of defence.

“C’mon, Y/n. Go have fun, it’ll be like we’re not even here.”

With a dissatisfied sigh, you grab your drink from the bar counter and gather within the group of girls all dressed with glamorous uniqueness, disappearing into the mass of dancers, praying that Jack’s statement would prove correct.

But, as expected, this promise was broken within the first hour after the desperate need for a Marlboro was lulling in your lungs, and for some useless and godforsaken reason, smoking is banned from the bar and dancefloor- bar vaping- however, due to the lack of an outside area, the designated smoking zone was the hallway.

After a trip to the bathroom- which had vanity counters, ladies waiting near the cashmere wash towels to unnecessarily aid in drying your hands; each bathroom is garnished with gold framing and every stall comes with a little glass table attached to the wall; perfect for cutting lines of coke- you decided it was time to settle down for a good smoke, spotting an empty, luxurious maroon and velvet two-seater sofa.

Your focus is on the ridiculous custom silver bear lighter you bought second-hand, your head bowed, smoke balanced between your lips, so it comes as a great surprise when you glance up and Harry is standing before you. By the time your cigarette sets alight, he is settled next to you on the lounger,

“Fancy seeing you here.” He teases lazily.

“You lost Jack?” You shift your body to better see him, simultaneously handing him your smoke.

“Always do.” He softly chuckles, knuckles brushing your fingertips in exchange, and he takes a good drag, hoping it will miraculously cure the anxiety that seemed to return the moment he found himself alone.

“That guy’s a menace.”

"This is the strangest hallway I've ever seen." He comments, glancing around the room of scattered stoners and straight smokers. Then he remembers the house he visited less than three hours ago, "And that's saying something."

"Our hallway is not that bad." You lamely defend- this conversation has been ongoing since youth.

"Can't believe we're sitting on a chez lounge." Harry marvels, hand stroking at the smooth material.

"This place truly is something." You agree, proceeding to ponder the answer to a premonition she needs confirmation for, “What are you doing over here?”

“Just needed a breather.” He admits. “You?”

“Guess I’m doing the same.” You consider.

“What’s the matter, klutz?” He reads your mood like a medium- some sort of magician.

“Boys are shitty.” You allow him the tip of the ice burg- it has been bugging you, perhaps not as much as the other things bothering and plaguing you.

“We are.” He agrees lightly, knowing it would be detrimental to pry.

“You aren’t. most of the time, anyway.”

“I thought I was the most annoying person you know.”

“You are. Maybe ever.” You dramatise your distaste, “But you are by no means shitty.”

For a reason Harry had always known, yet never questioned, he found your presence as relaxing as falling asleep cradled by a fluffy cloud. He briefly wonders if you feel the same, but knows better than to embrace hope. Nevertheless, he says what he can guarantee will suit your interesting demeanour,

“I’m sorry about… whatever you’re going through.”

“Thanks, Harry.” You smile earnestly as the pair of you proceed to pass the cigarette back and forth, comfortable in the presence of taking a cool-down.

But, with your vulnerability out in the open, it becomes mandatory to verify the reason he is currently sitting beside you,

“Why aren’t you down there?”

Harry knew it was coming, thought about what to say, and came up with a few reasonable excuses but as soon as the question leaves your quirked and lush lips, the truth comes pouring out and he cannot do anything but witness his honesty,

“I feel out of my element.”

“That’s all in your head.” You try to reassure him, knowing it isn’t that simple, yet hoping he might allow you the chance to prove it, even for just a moment.

“Oh, is that right?” He smirks.

You are standing before he can blink twice, singing your cigarette in the ashtray and reaching your arm out for him to join you,

“C’mon, I’ll show you.”

He doesn’t protest- he doesn’t even hesitate as he wraps his hand in your own, raising from the chair and allowing you to drag him wherever you please.

This results in descending stairs, weaving through a crowd before finally reaching the destination; the bar. He shouldn’t be surprised, but the pleasure and subconscious pride he wore as you tugged him about, moving closer, sometimes a few steps apart, but never letting go of his hand- even if only one finger was hooked to his own.

The bartender arrives with such haste that Harry is almost certain it has something to do with your beauty- it does- but mere moments later he finds out that you are in fact a regular visitor- and a loved one, at that.

Harry is so enamoured and floored with such an overload of new information about you that he hardly registers when you tilt over the counter and order four tequilas.

And when the tequila arrives, there are five, offered as, ‘on the house’. Your reaction is mischievous and Harry feels exhilarated at the promise of your mission to make his night memorable.

“Bottoms up.” You command, double-parking and encouraging Harry to wrap both of his shot glasses in each palm. He does as follows, giving you awkward cheers before copying your skill and tossing back the tequila one after the other. You then guide Harry to drop both glasses on the table and immediately grab the lonesome shot glass, still filled to the brim.

You go in for half a sip, savouring the sharp spirits slipping down your throat but leaving half the glass full. Handing it over to Harry he finishes the drink and turns to you in anticipation for further instructions. Your shoulders can’t resist a consequential shudder, and then you clap your hands together and cheekily beam up at him,

“Now, we dance.”

“I can’t dance.” His pitch is one of panic and protest.

“Neither can I.” You answer proudly, wrapping his hand in your own and leading him onto the dancefloor.

🍷 2016 🍷

Your boyfriend has caused yet another scene, taking it personally when some poor guy dressed as a zombie accidentally stepped on his foot.

Before he had the chance to toss more furniture, you plan an escape and make a beeline for the kitchen- somewhere likely to be devoid of party-goers. But when you round the corner, the sight of Harry, dressed in a white and red striped shirt, hair quaffed beneath a goofy matching beanie, and eyes framed by large, black round glasses. He's sitting on the counter, his light jean-clad legs dangling, shoes knocking against the bottom cabinets.

He seems too calm for such a festive evening, especially when he is as notorious as Jack when it comes to turning into a playful nuisance- affectionate, chatty, and likely to end up attempting to dance.

You walk straight over, only coming to a halt when your sternum presses into his knees, and beneath those gaudy glasses, you don't miss the way his deep green eyes swell and his lashes bash beautifully with bafflement.

"Ah, here's Waldo." You beam up at him.

"Y'got me." He lightly shrugged, a sneaky smile painting his cheeks.

"What do I win?"

Eyes widening with an accompanying Chesire cat smile, your tone tainted with taunting cheeriness. But, nonsensically you lean in closer, bare abdomen grazing his denim.

Whether intentional or not, Harry is set alight, his burning knees spreading along his stomach, trailing up his chest, simmering his heart and throat, coals burning at his cheeks and brain. He is so stoned on placebo, that his mouth is unable to project his profession,

"Anything you want."

You are experiencing first-degree burns, bathing yourself in diversion,

"Are these your real glasses?" You lean your face forward, lining up with his own, your hands gently clasping the black frames and examining the determined false lenses. "Guess not."

There are less than zero reasons for your bodies to remain so stuck, relaxed in the sanctuary of physical contact, but neither of you makes an attempt to move, unaddressed and absolutely mad. You deem it time to turn things around,

"Avoiding the party?"

"A little." He shrugs.

"Bad company?"

"The worst." He tilts his chin to the ceiling before returning his gaze to your own, "Though I can't imagine I'm much better."

"Anything is better than the mess going on outside." You meet his pondersome eyes with a competitive roll of your own.

Now Harry understands the crash he had heard through the kitchen window. Your expressions of annoyance and disappointment emit all of the information he needs to know,

"Dickie acting up again?"

"You know that's not his name."

"It should be."

Harry has never shied away from expressing his distaste for your boyfriend- simply because you were dating him. Harry was hardly around, and when he was, you were almost guaranteed to be absent due to plans with Ricky.

With a sudden bough of frustration, your hands press into Harry's upper thighs to properly balance yourself. he does everything- and more- to avoid physically reacting to your unusual closeness. You breathe out and it matches the mournful furrow of your brow,

"He's just... why does he have to be so aggressive?"

"Yeah, that table certainly didn't deserve that." Harry leans in, looking down at you with a worrisome but sensitive demeanour. And then he leaps and lightly wraps his hand around your hip.

His eyes are studying your soft face, his heart focused on your sweet features and the feeling of your skin separated by his clothes, but his head is still stuck on the confusion currently holding you captive. He can't help by prying,

"He's not... aggressive with you, right?"

"Not yet." The words trail off of your tongue. And then you toss everything aside, pressing your fingers into his thigh "I don't wanna talk about it right now."

Harry doesn't know how to react, sudden shocks of arousal emulating at the discomfort of your digging nails, the desperate desire to destroy the distance between your lips, loop his arm around your neck, softly cup your cheek and express how special you should be treated- with such certainty that you never forget,

"I like your costume. Might be your best so far."

It definitely is, you are rather impressed with how well your Other Mother costume turned out. Though, your already tragic bank account has taken a traumatic bashing,

"I spent way too much money on it."

"How much?" His grin is mischievous.

"Too much."

"Now I have to know." He pleads, but know you will never utter the shame you suffer. He won't let you off the hook so easy, though, "Just to rub it in, I'll have you know, I only spent three pounds."

You huff, leaning further into his touch, enjoying the feeling of his fingers on your flesh. He has to tilt to see you fully, and you aid him craning your neck to meet him in the middle, dismissing the deemed unnecessary distance,

"Well, you've done a terrible job at making it hard to find you."

"Maybe I wanted you to find me." He shrugs with suave.

"That was ambitious."

"It worked, yeah?" He is seeping with playful pride, though he cannot prevent his need to compliment you- perhaps the only way to get his attraction across was through words, true words at that, "You really do look beautiful."

"Not just sexy?"

"Sexy as fuck." He groans, fingers pressing into the plush fleshyness of your waist, "But not just sexy."

"Filthy." You scold seductively.

And then you seem to find yourself sinking further into his touch, trying with everything in you to get nearer- his neck so biteable, collarbone begging for loving bruises. Harry is on the same page, body pressing into your own, his palm trailing up and settling on your lower back.

You think he might kiss you. You think you are out of your mind... But, you think you're going to let him. The only thing to pause your seemingly-senseless thoughts is the defensive, stern, and frankly, threatening boom of your boyfriend,

"Hey, what the fuck are you doing with my girl?"

Like velcro being violently ripped apart, you have never moved with such haste in all of your current existence to date. Harry is now at least three feet away from you, and your boyfriend is berzerkly striding towards him. Harry calmly and rationally raises his palms in defence,

"Nothing, mate."

"Ricky-" You edge closer.

But, your boyfriend has already aimed his fist at Harry's face, and instead of reacting with returned aggression, he interjects,

"Mate, chill out." Harry reasons with a casual shrug, "She's like a sister to me."

An invasive feeling of disappointment pangs at your heart at the sound of sister, and to this day you will not analyse why. It was something you were guaranteed to repeat in the future.

"Am I supposed to believe that?" Ricky scoffs but his arm drops to his side nevertheless.

Harry hops off of the counter with ease, stepping past your boyfriend with effortless confidence. He glances over at you for a mere instance- not long enough for you to comprehend the event that just unfolded.

He reaches over to the nearest countertop and grabs his solo-cup and before turning his back completely, he addresses Ricky with finality,

"Believe what you want, Batman."

🍷 2018 🍷

Harry knocks for a third time before Jack finally answers the door- and when he does, dressed Pennywise- a red balloon tied to his wrist- Harry instantly regrets his entire life, attempting to prepare for a chaotic Halloween party. Whenever Jack finds himself in an extravagant, far-too-detailed costume, two things are certain; there will be a magically, monstrous punch bowl, and Jack will be dancing on any piece of furniture that catches his eye.

“So, this was your last-minute decision?” Harry works hard to keep the disturbed feelings from projecting across his features.

“It was this or Heisenburg, okay?” Jack sighs, audatiously comparing his- what can only be described as a slutty Pennywise to simply purchasing a hazmat.

“How much time did you spend on this?” Harry finds his amusement increasing.

“Too long.” Jack admits with distaste. But all in all, This is the best of his costumes to date, and Harry certainly agrees.

“I’m sure the ladies will love it.” He commends, and Jack nods avidly, his face mimicking that of confidence.

Harry ponders halfheartedly as they enter the home Harry knows so well- the home he spent at least a quarter of his 28 years. It's only as he reaches the living room, packed with both familiar and unfamiliar faces. Many of them seem older than he, and Harry can only assume these are friends of Jack’s college, and your work colleagues.

A pang of panic threatens to become a full-blown wave of disappointment and regret. Missing out on the life he could have had.

Before he can be swept away by his newfound unfamiliarity, Jack has led them to the makeshift bar- a dining table decorated with spooky decorations, all surrounding the notorious monster of the eve- the Halloween punch. Harry doesn’t protest- by this point he deems it necessary.

Lightly tapping their cups together in cheers. Jack takes a hearty sip before his brows suddenly raise in realization,

“Huh. That’s funny.” Jack finally takes a moment to acknowledge his best friend, emulating the Devil himself.

“Hm?” Harry asks halfheartedly, eyes scanning the room for something and he doesn’t even know what.

“I just noticed your costume.”

Harry’s gaze snaps back to Jack, giving him a puzzled look, masking a sudden bough of insecurity simmering beneath the surface,

“I look funny?”

“No, Y/n told me she was gonna be an Angel. Coincidence, huh?” Jack shrugs.

“Is she here?” Harry tries to hide the sudden panic.

“Not yet. You know she’s gonna lose her mind over it.” Jack grins, always bemused by the so-called banter between his sister and best friend.

Harry’s panic is substituted by an odd sense of relief- he now knows what- or who- he had been searching for. With a bough of mischievous confidence, he mimics his best friend's grin and informs,

“Just what I wanted to hear.”

👻

Upon the news of his holy crush’s imminent arrival, Harry finishes his first punch cup and then heads towards the ‘bar’ to pour another.

Pleasantly, someone is already attending to the punch- an old teammate from his high school football team has the same intentions, finishing up on filling his cup before recognizing Harry and enthusiastically initiating a catch-up. One that proves helpful, replacing his thoughts of you with good conversation and in turn, allows him to react.

It’s unclear how long this chat persisted as the boys moved from the make-shift bar to a spot on the porch- already scattered with smokers and an extremely tense game of beer-pong.

Eventually, the punch has caught up with him and Harry has to excuse himself in favour of the bathroom. This should be an easy enough task, but this monstrous punch has proved poisonous as it lags his movements and encourages him to take a long, good look at himself in the cobweb-framed mirror.

Impressed with his costume, and impressed with how calm and cheery he felt. Things don’t seem so bad- the intrusive thoughts were offering silence for the sake of letting him have a good time.

His best friend’s home has always had the oddest of hallways. A complicated combination of narrow to wide, with unnecessary corners and nooks. These proved sacred during the times of childhood, the perfect place to out-smart the person trying to yell, ‘Tag, you’re it!’ Now, this hallway is treacherous and Harry longs to find himself back in the living room, especially with the amount of party-goers crowding the corridor.

Looking back, Harry wonders if he would have even seen you wedged between a pair of what seems to be Cersei and Jaime Lannister. It would be hard not to, with the way the shimmering satin dress and the sparkling halo create a ring of glory around you.

But you certainly see him, meandering down the hallway dressed in a costume to match your own. Your first feeling should be annoyance, but unfortunately, your thoughts are redirected to just how good he looks.

The duo you were humouring are a thing of the past as you mutter an “excuse me”- gaze and mind already set on intercepting Satan himself.

He’s leaning against the wall- being extra careful to not knock over any picture frames. His head is bowed, contemplating his next move and it suddenly and forcefully occurs to him that his original plan to find you was diverted by a pointless side-quest.

As if the thin veil of Halloween was thoughtful enough to grant him instant gratification, a set of white heels, laced to the upper calf is walking his way. He lets his eyes trail the length of soft thighs up to the seams of lacy trim, savouring each fleshy, smooth thigh before finally addressing the owner's face.

When his eyes are met with your own, glittering with each blink, Harry’s widen in surprise, jaw threatening to slack as you stop before him. Giving him a good glance before mimicking his stance and balancing yourself against the wall.

“Well, well, well.” Your tone is both amused and annoyed.

A sudden rush of ease and euphoria washes over him at the coolness of your mood- though, that was subject to change rather quickly in the presence of Harry.

On a whim you attribute to both a poisonous punch and the devil standing before you, Harry is taken off guard by the sudden contact of your palm on his chest, even more, surprised as you push and guide him into the nearest alcove.

But that was as far as your thoughts had progressed, what was the plan now? This is a result of impulsivity, and when you concede and don’t go on to say anything further, Harry takes the opportunity to back you into the corner, arms balancing loosely on the wall near your face.

“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” His smile is cheesy.

“I’m sure you’re enjoying this.” Your eyes roll, arms crossing your chest in distaste.

Harry tilts down ever so slightly, aligning his lips with the shell of your ear,

“Loving it.”

“And I’m supposed to believe this is just a coincidence?”

“Believe what you want, Angel.”

He returns to his previous position, aching to get a better look at your face, hoping that the blush pink scattered across your cheeks is a product of not makeup, but himself. You cannot admit that it’s a combination of both- not even to yourself- instead opting for a classic eye-roll and continuing to do what you do best,

“I see you chose to go costume-less this year.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“You’re the Devil.” You try, “Truly.”

By now, your hands have dropped to your sides, securing distance but still unexplainably allowing Harry the chance to wander closer if he wishes. He does, but only enough for your chests to brush, his head bowed to gaze your way, one of his hands reaching out to fiddle with the accessory adorning your head,

“Why, because I make you want to ditch that pretty little halo?”

“You’re insane.” You chide, palm raising to his abdomen in protest.

“And you want me.” He articulates with certainty.

“Correction, you’re psychotic.”

But you like the feeling of his muscles tensing beneath your hold, the musky and fruity aroma invading your senses. The curve where his shoulder and neck meet is aligned with your chin, and for a split second, you ponder the impulse to get closer, latch your lips to his skin and sink your teeth in.

Harry likes having you so near, he can smell the Chanel and cocoa butter seeping from your skin, the crown of your head smells of something fruity and fresh. And when your hand absentmindedly trails further along his stomach, settling on his shoulder, Harry almost stops breathing when his impulses get the best of him, wrapping his free arm around your waist, and when you don’t protest and your free arm goes to rest along his shoulder, he thinks he might have a chance,

“Are you sure, pretty Angel? Your body seems to think otherwise.”

“Shut up, Harry.”

“You’re more than welcome.” he smirks, loving the way your eyes simmer with conflict, “…To shut me up, that is.”

You decide that fame has done a lot to him, not just the typical singing, stadiums and superstardom, so why the hell is he talking like a… man? Like he knows how to seduce a woman, and why the fuck does that make your stomach churn with curiosity.

But, you remind yourself that age equals experience and that makes you the superior. Besides, from the way he’s currently behaving, you have an inkling that his ego has likely inflated.

This could be fun. Two could play at this game, and no matter the amount of fraternizing Harry may have committed, you were competitively and egotistically prepared to knock him down a peg.

Raising to the tip of your toes, hand tightening on his shoulder, nails softly scratching at his back, your other hand reaching to wrap around his neck, your thumb stroking the crook of his chin. Batting your eyelashes with a lick of the lips, you ensure he hears each and every word,

“Is that what you want, sweet boy?” You coo, and Harry stiffens in an instant, blinking rapidly as you push on, “Want me to take care of you?”

“You can do whatever you want.” He blurts out before the ‘ou’, fist flexing against the wall, his body aching to be tangled up with your own.

It's cute, and unnecessarily arousing, and as much as you know you shouldn’t, there’s an ache in your chest that chants for you to crumb him along for just a little longer,

“Pity. After all, this is just a costume.”

“Prove it.”

His eyes are eager, nose bumping along your forehead, and your hand comes to its finale as it holds his cheek in place, gently pulling his face nearer to your own. You pout, but the sly smirk prints itself at the corners of your lips nevertheless,

“A Devil certainly isn't deserving.”

“Prove it anyways.”

Harry thinks he’s about two sentences away from begging for something he didn’t know he needed so desperately. As much as it pains you to put a pin in this, the confusion of juxtaposition of attraction is threatening to make you light-headed.

“No.”

So, to Harry’s utter dismay, you release him from your hold and tactfully slip out between the space you once occupied. With one more sympathetic pat on his shoulder, you smile at him and make your way back down the hallway, feathered wings taunting him in your wake.

🍷 2019 🍷

Harry was lucky enough to have been in town for Halloween- he can't count how many holidays he missed over the last half-decade. He’s dressed as her favourite thing; a teddy bear- fuzzy ears and makeup to match. Your brother, Jack was hosting his famously chaotic annual Halloween celebration, and Harry was far too giddy at the guarantee of seeing you again. He can't count the missed holidays, but he can certainly count how many years it’s been since you last spoke- mar the quick birthday wishes, and periodic congratulations and praise.

But, after an hour or so, he is starting to doubt his certainty, gaze shamelessly studying the room, hoping he had merely missed your arrival. Two solo cups of warm beer later, Harry is itching to locate you- this is your tradition after all, and he was so sure that this time would end differently, that she would finally see him for the man he was becoming.

He definitely wouldn’t be asking Jack why you weren’t here- partially because he seems preoccupied with a makeshift gravity bong. Instead, Harry seeks out one of your oldest friends, Nova, who is dressed as a Harley Quinn, but before he can even reach the group in which she mingles, his boot trips on a rug and unable to help it, the contents of his cup comes spilling out, splashing and coating Nova’s front with the sticky substance. After apologising profusely- even if just to come off polite- Harry musters up the humility to ponder your lack of presence.

Disheartened and disappointed when she responds with, “She’s in Italy”, Harry is once again confused by Jack’s lack of mentioning the news. Though none of his business, the dichotomy of standing his ground and avoiding the question versus caving in and simply asking Jack has him in quite the frenzy.

The rest of the evening is a bore- Harry switches to ginger ale, and though he attempts to mingle, maintaining interest proves to be impossible, and for the first time, Harry makes the decision to head home early.

But, now, with a make-up-free face and his favourite jammies, he is tucked beneath the fluffiest sheets and your mere existence is pulling the sheets tighter, trapping him in a series of thoughts of yours truly, thinking about you.

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