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She felt like she couldn’t breathe. Or maybe she just wasn’t breathing at all. She didn’t attempt to, either way.
A blitzkrieg of cold fell over Taco, who was encased in the bush, unable to get up, forced to stay trapped. She bit her tongue as she tried to lazily push a passage open, tasting the pungent taste of blood fill her mouth.
Maybe this is how she really would die. No one to love her, no friends, nothing. Not even going out on a sick note, like fighting a wolf, or falling off a waterfall. No. She’d die alone and afraid, all cold without any warmth or any love.
She gave up, letting snow fall onto her, into her, embedding itself in her cracks like the love she so desperately wished for, like the love she hopelessly gave in letters, only to watch them burn.
Would anyone miss her after death? Would anyone find her body? No, for the first, and hopefully not, for the second. She would never want anyone to find her rotting body- she didn’t even wish it on MePhone, for heaven’s sake. It was cruel. Far too cruel for her.
She closed her eyes, taking in what could be her last breath, feeling distant from her cold body. She felt a warmth instead, and she embraced it, wanting and waiting for death to carry her soul. She heard its footsteps drawing evernear, and the bush being thrust open. She heard a gasp, one she knew, but she couldn’t put her mind on it.
“Oh god…Taco…” She could barely make out the voice between the screaming in her head, like an alarm. She couldn’t even open her eyes. She felt like she was drifting in and out of consciousness, barely able to grasp onto what she was being told. She could feel herself moving however, like she was being carried.
Death was gentle, wrapping around her like a prized possession. Like she was all it cared about, cold kissing her cheeks, her body meeting…warmth. She thought death was cold, meant to make you think before you die, make everything flash before you, make you regret everything wrong in your life.
She regretted a lot in life… for one, being brought into it.
A rush of warmth hit her as she heard something creak, her brows giving a furrow. Where was death bringing her? She didn’t know. All she knew was she was being covered again- this time in arms rather than snow. Was this really death? It didn’t feel like so. She knew death vaguely, watching her fellow contestants die and come back, not looking all that phased- instead looking ready to jump back into whichever challenge was happening in place.
She found a strange hatred for the show, after Mic left. She remembered grabbing a rock and throwing it against a tree- it bounced back, however, made her pass out and wake up in indescribable pain. She found out later that a large crack had grown- which only grew with her stress, her guilt, her hatred, her heartbreak .
She let her conscious waver once more, feeling herself removed from the warmth of arms, whining in protest for what she wanted back, for the comfort she hasn’t felt in months.
“Poor thing…” She heard a murmur, a slightly familiar voice- she couldn’t put her hand on it, she wished she could however. She was wrapped in something else however, it felt soft and made her feel so cozy. What was this again…? A blanket, right? How she missed them so.
So if this wasn’t death…who was taking care of her?
“Mic..?” She breathed out, hearing someone hush her in response. Her throat burned, she was dehydrated. She took a deep breath, feeling something touch her cracks- she realized it was wet there, painfully so. Probably due to melted snow. What felt like moss- no, it was a towel- was pressed there, taking in the cold liquid before moving away.
She couldn’t give a simple thankful gesture before her conscience gave out, letting her fall into darkness, one this time feeling like a hug. A hug from a former loved one.
Taco awoke to something soft underneath her- this wasn’t a rock…or any sort of moss- or even any grass or dirt. It was…comforting. She let her eyes open, not seeing the usual blue sky or blaring sun, or night sky greeting her from a nightmare or restless sleep. Instead, she saw an annoyingly orange ceiling that made her narrow her eyes.
She went to move, but her limbs felt like jello, her eyes searching the place she was. She was surrounded by animals, all unmoving and their eyes lifeless and ready to attack- no, those weren’t eyes, they were buttons… gosh, she’s been away for a while, she even forgot how to differentiate a wild animal to a stuffed plaything.
Her mouth was still dry, and felt like it was stuffed with cotton. She weakly pushed herself up, wincing from the pain still from the systemic cracks, looking around to the empty room covered in rock posters. It struck her as familiar, unable to put a finger on it, her mind still buzzing like a wasp hive.
Her body willed her to lay back down, feeling in the comforting embrace of pillows and blankets she used to yearn for, before getting used to laying without them, head propped on nothing and her body getting used to the chill that would ache her body. When she met Mic, her heart and mind would warm the spots of cold for herself, though when her cause of warmth left, the cold seeped into each crack and found it’s way to her heart.
She would lie next to MePad, the tablet tabloid giving off enough warmth for her to survive on. Speaking of which, she had left him back at where she usually laid at night- she wondered what was happening to him. Would the cold make him awake? She felt another pang of guilt, for she had found a nice comfort in the unconscious tablet, talking to him and hearing no judgement, hearing nothing at all but the woods whispering back to her. If he had fully died, she would have ruined another thing.
One more thing on the list of each reason she hated herself.
Her eyes refocused on the door as she heard footsteps, her instincts to run kicking in, her pupils darting for an escape route. She only saw a window, but a screen held her in; she wouldn’t have chance to unscrew or destroy it before whoever was walking near saw her. She froze as the door opened, revealing-
“Mic.” she breathed out, seeing the beauty who made her heart thump, both in absolute adoration and guilt for the look on Mic’s face, an emotion of concern and disappointment. She hated that look, mentally adding another thing to her list of things she hated.
“Taco- you-” Mic started, her voice making Taco’s heart flutter. “Now isn’t the time” She reprimanded herself mentally, unable to meet Mic’s eyes.
“Mic- Microphone - I…I’m just…I’m so sorry, Mic.” She murmured, letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding after she apologized, her eyes looking around the room rather than the eyes she knew were full of disappointment. Disappointment she probably deserved.
“Taco…” She heard that sigh of Mic’s, signifying underlying emotions Taco could barely pick up on. Disappointment, that one was easy to understand, and others she could barely put a hand on. She would never be able to completely understand Mic, but she wished she could, she wished she could just…take Mic apart and analyse her, think what she’s thinking, feel what she feels, be what Mic wants her to be. Something that isn’t this.
She heard Microphone move closer, heard her soft feet move against the wooden floor and closer to the bed, looking up to see Mic sit beside her after moving beside some stuffed animals, Taco holding her ground, staying where she was, only flinching when Mic reached a hand to the cracks on her head.
“What… happened to you?” God, that concerned voice made Taco want to cry like a small child to their mother, to talk to her like she had a bad school day, hold her, hug her, be cared for by her. If Taco could only remember her mother..she would ask her if she was proud of the object she had become. Surely she wouldn’t. No parent would ever feel any pride for a tyrant like her. No one would ever love something as awful as her.
Taco felt those soft hands she once dreamed of holding caress her “face”, so soft and full of concern, gently running a finger against one of the cracks that reached her left eye, earning a whimper of pain from Taco’s throat.
“Oh Taco…” She heard that sigh again, wanting to cry again as Microphone slowly brought her hand up, feeling her get up from the bed and go to her drawer, getting a first aid kit as Taco watched, her eyes filled with emotion.
“Mic…You don’t…You don’t have to waste anything on me.” She said, getting a scowl in response, with the former ignoring the British gal’s words as she got a wet wipe out of the kit, slowly rubbing against the lines against Taco’s face, earning a hiss of pain from the Mexican food.
“Stay still…” Mic said in a quiet voice, almost above a whisper as the other squirmed. “Stay still.” She reiterated as Taco continued to squirm, raising her voice to get heard, getting a sheepish “sorry” from the other. Taco tried her best to be still, really she did, as gauze was applied to the cracks, and then bandages. Soft- delicate- warm- all the things Taco forgot the feel of.
“Why…why are you helping me?” Taco asked after Microphone applied the bandages, getting only the sound of a ticking clock in the background, her head buzzing loud enough to drown it out. Loud enough to break and burn her, loud enough to make her want to cry, loud enough to-
“It’s the right thing to do, Taco.” The taller one breaking through the barrier of mindful static in the shorter object’s head, swirling around before being filed into a mental cabinet full of all the things Taco loved about Microphone, which (admittedly) was a lot.
“You need rest.” Microphone said, getting a grumble from the british gal, who scowled, her eyebrows knitting together. “I don’t need rest.” Taco thought, letting a silent hiss escape her. “I need to be with you more.”
“I’m fine.” She responded quickly, despite the drowsiness making her close to falling back asleep, wanting to curl into Mic’s arms and cuddle her like an idiot, to kiss her all over and whisper everything she loved about the taller one, to see a blush fall over Mic’s face… That imagery alone could make Taco cry with want, with need . She heard a hum from Microphone, her eyebrows knitted closely together.
“Let me rephrase that- You are going to rest.” Taco couldn’t fight that, she would never deny doing something for Mic- never again. She let out a sigh, and fell back onto the bed, wanting to kiss the victorious smile off of Microphone’s face quickly, like a fool would.
Taco let out a soft breath as she let her eyes close, feeling those soft arms wrap around her as she let a smile go on her face, going into unconsciousness as Mic whispered sweet nothings into her ear, barely able to perk up as she heard those few words before she passed out.
“I love you.”
When Microphone awoke, her eyes blinked as she felt a missing weight in her arms, slowly shifting up as a cold filled the room.
“Oh…” She breathed out, seeing her window opened and the screen messily placed back on. Sadness overtook her, but she knew she shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up. Of course Taco wouldn’t stay, you can’t tame a wild animal.
Microphone just wished she would be able to see her again, to hold her again. She wished it was soon…
She just didn’t know how soon it would be.