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zombie-rott · 1 year ago

Text

Of Mortal Flesh and Bone; Part 2

Relationship: None. Sorry.

Trigger warning: You might cry?

Synopsis:

Phantom doesn’t know how to find his place in the band because how can he replace Aether.

Notes:

Inspired by Sleep Token, 'Spillways', overwhelming emotions (on my part) & a conversation with a fellow Ghoulie on Discord.

Part 1

~ ~ ~ ~

They'd long since crossed the border into Southern France and were making their way to the next venue when Papa decided to take a break at a local camping stop. There was time between shows, that evening being dedicated largely to travel, therefore taking a few hours to recharge within the peace of nature was a great way for everyone to decompress. It was their first full day and night that they’d had off in a while, and the other ghouls were excited to spend the time relaxing and enjoying their respective hobbies.

But Phantom felt lost. He hadn’t been on the surface long enough to find a hobby he enjoyed, and every other moment of his waking time had been spent rehearsing. Some of the ghouls were reading, while others spent time playing video games on the television or frolicking in nature. But he remained in his bunk, with the curtain pulled across and his mortal body curled inward. He’d spent a lot of time between shows resting but never quite sleeping. At least not as much as his mortal body needed. And the effects were becoming evident. He could feel the muscles and bones aching, and he couldn’t remember what it was like not to have a headache.

Was this how they all felt?

“Phantom, sweetie?”

It took the multi-ghoul a moment to register the sweet sound of Cumulus’ voice from behind the curtain of his bunk. But instead of feeling comforted by her soothing tone, he wanted to disappear completely.

As much as Phantom tried to keep to himself, there was always one ghoul daring enough to press further. Even more so than Swiss.

That ghoul was Cumulus. She was one of the few members of the pack to approach Phantom when he took himself off to his bunk. When he refused to join them for dinner before a show or to decompress afterwards, she could often be found hovering by his specific quarters. She was the one Phantom found himself shooing most often.

Cumulus either didn't get the message or simply preferred to ignore it.

“Would you like to join us for something to eat?” She queried gently.

Phantom could feel his stomach tighten and twist at the thought of food. He wasn’t hungry but he knew that he needed to start making some sort of effort. As much as he hated himself, he pulled back the curtain and shifted himself from the bunk.

Cumulus smiled at him from where she stood, her hands together in silent applause.

He felt dread.

“Oh good!” she chirped as she led him from the bus, “We’ve got lots of different treats for you to try. Have you had watermelon yet?”

He took in their makeshift campsite from the top of the stairs. Some of the ghouls were spread out on the grass enjoying the sunshine while Swiss manned a smoking barbecue. Beside him, Dewdrop chewed on hot coals and across the way Papa could be seen lounging beneath a tree with a book.

Phantom felt ill.

There were so many of them and yet he felt more alone than ever before. Even more so than when he was in the depths of a pit.

“Apples are nice too. Oh and these beautiful crunchy treats called Doritos! They were quite lovely.” Cumulus continued, oblivious to Phantom’s silence.

He nodded as her eyes met his. This, apparently, was the wrong response. Her smile gave way to concern as she laid her hand on his bicep.

“Are you alright? You’re very pale?”

Phantom clenched his fists and bit back a snide remark. She was concerned, nothing more, and it would be cruel to be so harsh.

He could feel the bile coating his mouth.

“I-I just-I’m not that hungry,” he answered, forcing a small, feeble smile.

The smell of cooking meat stung his nostrils and his stomach flipped within him.

He needed to go back inside where he was safe.

“You haven’t eaten since breakfast yesterday, sweetie. Your mortal body needs fuel to function.”

He nodded again, not sure what it was he was responding to. He could barely hear her anymore over the sound of his own instincts.

Inside. Safe.

Quickly Phantom moved back towards the bus, ignoring Cumulus’ calls. He could feel his stomach heave as he bolted towards the bathroom.

Safe.

Phantom was shaking as he gripped the edges of the small sink. Bile rushed up his throat and forced itself from his body. What was this?

“Phantom?”

He shoved his foot back against the door, stopping Cumulus from following him. The last thing he needed was for her to see him like this.

“Phantom, sweetheart, are you alright?” She called as she gently knocked on the bathroom door.

He didn’t respond, instead focusing on the uneasiness in his stomach, and the sweat dripping from his forehead. Another hushed voice joined Cumulus on the other side and shame washed over him.

When had he become so weak?

~ ~ ~ ~

Somewhere around the fifth week of the tour they were allowed the luxury of a hotel room. Sister Imperator had treated them all to a night in a four-star hotel, complete with breakfast in the morning. But when it came to checking in it became quickly apparent where the tyrant had saved on money. Everyone, even Papa, had to double up. The ghouls began pairing themselves off one by one when Phantom heard his name.

He was sharing with Mountain which, if he was honest, was no issue. The earth ghoul was almost as quiet as he was and had barely spoken in the last four weeks. Phantom was eased by the silence between them on the way to their room, and even more so by the silence that followed once inside. He enjoyed the absence of immediate sound.

But unease spread through his gut when he spotted the single, queen bed.

“Oh.” He breathed.

“It’s fine. This always happens when Sister books our rooms.” Mountain instinctively set his bag down on the side of the bed closest to the door, “I like to be close to an exit if you’re okay with it. Something left over from the pit.”

Phantom nodded and followed suit, setting his backpack over by the window. He sat on the mattress and unlaced his boots as Mountain busied himself with a shower.

He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be back in his bunk, protected by his tiny walls.

“Hey, you okay Sprout?”

Phantom jumped at Mountain’s voice. The earth ghoul was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, freshly washed and dressed in civilian clothing. His dark eyebrows were knitted together with concern.

“Sorry - yeah. I’ve just never been in a hotel room before.”

“It’s pretty much the same as the quarters back home. Instead, we’re sharing a bed.” Mountain forced a chuckle as he sat down beside the smaller ghoul.

“Yeah.” Phantom’s voice was small, almost a whisper.

“You know, if you need to talk I can listen? I’m pretty good at it.” Mountain gently laid a hand on Phantom’s shoulder, “Leaving the pit for the first time can be pretty hard, Sprout. And it’s been kinda hard for you, huh?”

Phantom swallowed back his shame, remaining silent. Mountain continued to wait for a response for a few more moments before sighing and moving from the bed.

This was so embarrassing.

“I’m going to meet a few of the other ghouls for dinner. Why don’t you get some rest?”

The earth ghoul didn’t even wait for a response, and Phantom was thankful. Finally, he could be left alone for the first time in four long, agonising weeks.

He concentrated on the simple sounds around him like the dripping of the shower head or the whirring of the air conditioning unit. There was no snoring or outburst of laughter from the pack. Nor the roaring of the bus engines. Phantom could feel his mind grow calmer, his fists unclenched and his jaw relaxed. But his flesh still itched to be unzipped.

Finally, after what felt like months, the multi-ghoul allowed himself to unglamour. The whole process took moments, and soon he was able to chew tenderly on the tuft of his tail in an act of self-soothing. His vessel tingled from top to toe and, suddenly, he found himself bawling, overcome with emotion.

Lucifer he had missed the feeling of his own skin, the leathery pads of his palm, and the tassel of his tail. But with it came the overwhelming notion that it would be ripped from him tomorrow again, boxed up until they were back in the abbey.

His chest heaved with sobs, his body shaking as he gnawed on his tail with reckless abandon. He wrapped his arms around himself in an attempt to quell the ache in his soul, but it was no good.

Mountain can’t see him like this.

Fearing the return of his fellow ghoul he dragged himself into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. There he finally allowed himself to stretch out and take in his reflection in the mirror.

Even back in his own skin, he looked horrid. Fresh cuts littered his biceps where he’d gripped a little too hard onto his own flesh. His face was slick with tears and hair, wild. He hated this version of himself. This overstimulated, tortured version that he didn’t even know existed prior to climbing from the pit.

Lucifer below , it hurt.

Even now, undone and back in his own skin, everything hurt like nothing he’d ever felt before. Physical pain he was used to, you didn’t grow up in the pit and not learn to manage it, but emotional? That was outside his remit.

Phantom knew he needed to drag himself back from the brink before Mountain returned lest he be found in a mess of tears and dried blood. He forced himself to the shower where he found the coolest setting, and prepared himself for the numbing of the frigid waters. The droplets hit his skin like thousands of tiny needles piercing him over and over.

He tried to clear his mind, he desperately grasped for any ounce of reserve he had left. Then his throat began to burn, his eyes brimming with familiar tears.

It wasn’t working. He didn’t feel calmer at all.

Phantom dropped to his knees and tucked himself into the corner of the shower tray, the water thundering down from above. Despite himself, he wailed, louder than he had meant to. Cries ripped through his throat and his claws found their way into his long hair.

He couldn’t catch his breath between sobs.

The thundering of the water was so loud, his senses so over-stimulated, that Phantom hadn’t noticed the bathroom door swinging open, nor the panicked voice of Mountain.

It wasn’t until he felt a strong arm looping around his shoulders and his body being pulled against cedar-smelling skin that Phantom was even aware of anyone else in his presence. And, by then, he was so overcome by his own distress that there was no strength left to fight. All he could do was allow himself to be comforted in the arms of the earth ghoul.

“It’s okay little sprout.” The earthly ghoul hummed as he gently rocked Phantom, “You’re safe here.”

Oh Lucifer . Phantom felt the heat of shame blooming in his stomach, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. It was the first real feeling of comfort he’d felt in months and he wasn’t ready to let it go.

Above them, the water was turned off, leaving only the gentle ‘ hum ’ of Mountain's voice behind. But Phantom wasn’t much concentrating on that, he was more concerned about bringing his own breathing back under control, and stilling the trembling of his bones.

“Should I get Papa?” A hushed whisper asked.

Phantom felt heat rise into his cheeks at the realisation of yet another ghoul seeing him this way. He pulled himself tighter inwards and against the earthly ghoul in a bid to hide his face.

“No, it’s fine. I’ve got this.” Mountain answered, his grip visibly tightening around the smaller being.

“Is there anything more I can do?”

“I don’t think so, Swiss. Only discretion. You know how it is.”

Swiss hummed in agreement before taking his leave.

Phantom couldn’t bring himself to uncurl, he didn’t know how to directly face the ghoul who currently held him like a kit in his arms. Lucifer below , how had he allowed it to come to this?

A whimper escaped his throat as he struggled to stop his cries, now so loud in the still of the bathroom. Mountain gently squeezed his shoulder in response.

They sat like that for what felt like hours; Mountain, fully clothed and soaking wet, curled around the unglamoured, broken shell of Phantom. The earth ghoul could feel his own heart breaking for his new packmate, memories of his own rescue from the pit plaguing his mind. He knew, in a sense, exactly what the younger ghoul was going through. They all did. Climbing from the pit head-first into the world of the Emeritus clan wasn’t an easy one. Glamouring was exhausting, and while life was pleasant for the most part, nothing felt right . At least for the first while. But until then, it was a shit show at best.

Phantom wasn’t the first ghoul he’d held crying and bleeding in his arms, and he wouldn’t be the last.

~ ~ ~ ~

They didn’t talk about it. No one did. Phantom and Mountain fell back into the same routine and barely broke breath to each other.

From then on Phantom withdrew further. In his mind he was heading towards a finish line and, in order to get there, he had to keep looking ahead. It was the only thought that stopped him from breaking further. They'd just had a few more shows to go, that was it. He could do that and then he’d be back at the abbey, where he could unglamour and figure his shit out.

Despite his mood and crippling anxiety, Phantom played surprisingly well on stage. Or at least he played the game well. He copied the mannerisms of the other ghouls while shrouded in his mask. The crowd were pleased, Papa even smiled at him on occasion or patted him on the back. He was a different and slightly less broken person on stage. He always had been.

Yet it was their penultimate show where the first signs of his outward unraveling began. Phantom, ever the perfectionist in the pit, never missed so much as a beat while up on stage; Until he did. And while it was barely noticeable to the crowd, Phantom could feel himself grow flush beneath his mask.

And it wasn't just once.

With each skipped beat or misplayed chord, Phantom bit harder onto his bottom lip. His eyes stinging with tears.

Papa will kill him.

But Papa Copia didn't so much as breathe a sharp word to him after the show. Instead, the clergyman threw his arm around his shoulders as they exited the stage, smiling at him gently as he guided him back to the bus in silence. And just as Phantom prepared himself for a bombardment of warnings and cross words, Papa spoke softly to him in a tone he often reserved for the ghoulettes when they were struggling.

"You did so well tonight, mio amico. You know this, si?”"

Phantom didn't know how to respond. Was Papa seriously not aware of the several mistakes he'd made during the set?

"Ah-um-thank you?" Was all the ghoul could manage.

"Won't you take off your helmet for me? I would like to talk for a bit if you have time."

Cautiously Phantom did what he was told and removed the mask from his head. There was no hiding the tell-tale sign of tears, their spillways evident through the black makeup. Or the dried blood left over from where he'd worried too much at his bottom lip. And, worst of all, Phantom knew how disheveled he looked because he was faced with it after every ritual. Except this time he didn't have the opportunity to wash the evidence away.

Papa furrowed his eyebrows in worry. He brought his hand to rest open-palmed on the ghoul's cheek.

" Mio poverio Phantom. You have been so sad, and yet you continue to hide instead of speaking to your Papa."

"I-I-um. It’s -" Phantom gently turned his head away, the words turning to dust in his throat.

This is a conversation he didn’t want to have. One he thought he had avoided back in the hotel room. One which was, no doubt, prompted by the other ghouls.

Instead of pressing, Papa rose to his feet and moved to busy himself in the kitchenette of the bus. Phantom did his best to wipe off the remaining makeup with the sleeves of his shirt. If they were going to continue this conversation, he didn't need Papa looking at him in such a sorry state.

Phantom wanted the pit to swallow him whole.

Before he had much more time to overthink his situation, Papa placed a mug of hot tea gently onto the table in front of him.

"I don't want you to be angry, mio amico, but Mountain came to me. He's very worried. As is Swiss and Cumulus. Even Dew has expressed his concern for your health. Will you confide in me? I'm a clergyman after all."

Phantom sighed, allowing his head to lull downwards defeated. Despite the fact Ghouls didn't, traditionally, partake in confessional, Phantom couldn't find the words. There was nothing he felt like saying, yet there was nothing he wanted more than to let someone help him.

He so desperately wanted his falls to crumble.

"You're in such deep sadness, my ghoul. It pains me to see you like this, but not nearly as much pain as I suspect you're in, si? Please lay some of your burden on me."

Phantom's throat began to hurt with the familiar burn of tears. He picked at the edges of his claws and gnawed on his bottom lip. All the while contemplating his next words. Papa didn't rush him, instead, he sat forward, elbows resting on his knees as he quietly listened.

"If anyone should be obligated to help you, it's I. I chose you and -"

"You summoned me blindly." Phantom snapped, his eyes suddenly glaring holes into the Papa's. His blood was tingling with the spark of anger.

He was dragged, kicking and screaming from that pit. He was torn from his kin, from his kit and his pack. When an Emeritus called you to serve them for the lord, you were left with no option. It was conscription at its most wicked.

"That's not how it works, mio amigo. We choose all our ghouls specifically for their purpose. You're perfectly matched." The clergyman was taken aback by Phantom's sudden outburst, but he didn't waver. He'd seen this before. He'd sat with his brother, Terzo, as Omega reacted in the same way.

This wasn't the first surface sickness he'd seen among ghouls, nor was it the worst. Dew alone took almost six months to adapt, spending large portions of his time sulking in the baths of the abbey, his element being strictly water at the time. He was unglamour and take to the lakes for hours, sometimes days, making rehearsal almost impossible.

"No." Phantom spat, shifting backwards in his seat, "That's not true. That's not what they say in the pit."

"They lie in the pit. They cheat in the pit and would do anything to keep you down there. But you - Phantom - were chosen just like Aether before you."

At the mention of his predecessor's name Phantom felt his throat tighten. He was not Aether, not going by word in the pit. He wasn't even half the ghoul he'd been, and he had been pushed back. Thrown back to the hounds like a bone. What's to say he wasn't next?

"But I keep fucking things up," Phantom whined. Despite his efforts, tears rolled down his cheeks.

"No, Phantom. Never. You have never fucked things up for us." Papa reached across and laid a gentle hand on the ghoul's knee.

"B-but tonight -"

"Ah! It was nothing! Barely noticeable! We are all flesh and bone, none of which are perfect. Fuck ups happen."

Phantom wiped his cheeks and looked towards the clergyman. He was met with an expression one could only describe as pure empathy and compassion.

"Y-you aren't angry at me? You-you won't throw me back?"

"No, Phantom. Never."

That's all it took for the spillways to overflow. Phantom broke into heavy sobs, his shoulders shaking, his tail tensing and wrapping tightly around his waist for comfort. He felt Papa shift and before long, an arm was wrapped around his shoulder.

"There, there. Va bene."

Papa squeezed his shoulder and gently coaxed him through his tears. Phantom didn't even feel embarrassed, he just felt an overwhelming weight being pried off his shoulders. He felt his walls shattering around him.

No one had ever cared like this before.

No one had ever told him that he was just flesh and bone and that it was okay to be imperfect.

Eventually, his tears subsided and Papa laid a blanket around his shoulders. It's as if the man knew exactly what he needed to feel comforted. As if he himself had been there before.

"Thank you, Papa." Phantom whispered softly, "I'm so sorry. I-I don't know what that was."

"Please don't apologise for something outside your control. Emotions are strange little things, like mico-sized ghoulies running riot in the mind and soul, si? I've long since learned that it's impossible to control them completely. Instead, we need to let them visit and then send them on their way. Capire?"

Phantom nodded in response, even if he didn't entirely understand it.

"Do you feel better, mio amico?"

"M-maybe? A little, yeah." Phantom nodded and allowed himself to smile.

"You just needed a listening ear si? To leave that part of yourself behind."

Papa gently patted the ghoul's back and returned his smile.

"Never be afraid to ask me to talk. That is what I'm here for. You're all my Ghouls, and who would I be if I let you suffer so?"

They sat like that, sipping their tea and talking for what seemed like hours until the other Ghouls came home. And for the first time since joining the mortal plane, Phantom felt confident enough to spend time among the pack.

His pack.

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