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It was getting hard to breathe by this point.
The flowers were small and blue, and so many. So. Many.
He'd long since stopped counting them.
They would be beautiful, if they weren't squished together into slimy clumps of plant and spit from being coughed up.
It hurt, of course it did. But not as much as watching his sole purpose in life be happy with His Original.
CH-01, the 1116th clone, the first truly successful one, a perfect clone, had been Rex Roofer's only focus for the seven months he'd been existing.
He wondered how much of a perfect clone he really was, because The Chadster would surely never think the awful things he wanted to do to the hero.
Because as soon as Rex had tested and perfected his seduction techniques on CH-01, he'd cast him aside to pursue "the real thing".
Because He. Was just. A clone.
Now that Rex had figured out how, he could make as many picture perfect clones as he wanted. Rex had made that very clear.
Blood had started to mix in with the flower clumps. Apparently the roots had finally pierced his lungs.
Weird how you almost don't notice the pain anymore after months and months of nothing but searing, burning heartache.
He wondered if there would be a funeral for him.
But of course not.
He was after all not much more than an amassing of lab grown cells. Not like he was capable of thought or, god forbid, feelings.
Oh, well. It didn't matter in the end.
He won't be here for much longer after all.