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"Are those-"
"Autopsy scars, yes. They had a real sick sense of humor."
"Are those—"
"Autopsy scars, yes. They had a real sick sense of humor."
Caretaker's hand shot up to cover their mouth. Whumpee was used to this reaction by now. They just put on a new shirt and kept it moving. Or they would've, had Caretaker not been blocking the bathroom entrance. "Can you step aside?"
"Oh, yeah, sorry, I just—"
"It's whatever. Just... at least try to hide the way you look at me."
"You can't do this! Do you know who I am?!"
"You can't do this! Do you know who I am?!"
Whumper smiled. "Oh, I know who you are. Do you know who I am?"
"I don't care who you are! Let me go! Right now!"
"See, the rich and spoiled always have the same shtick. But it's okay. I've learned to work with it."
"What did I do wrong?!"
"What did I do wrong?!"
"Nothing," Caretaker said, but it made no sense, because if Whumpee hadn't done anything wrong, then they wouldn't be packing to leave.
"I had to have done something!"
"You did nothing wrong, Whumpee."
"Then why are you leaving?"
Caretaker tucked a strand of hair behind their ear. Chewed on their lip for a bit. Then, quietly, said, "I just can't keep doing this."
"You said you'd protect me. You said you would do this with me!"
"You said you'd protect me. You said you would do this with me!" Whumpee yelled.
"But I didn't know the full extent of your 'plan' back then!" Caretaker yelled back. "This is not a plan! This is insanity!"
"Fine," Whumpee said. "Fine. If you don't want to do this with me, I'll do it alone. No protections. No guardrails. Fuck you."
"I don't know why it's so hard for me to hate you, even after everything you do to me..."
"Your body knows you belong to me. Your body and subconscious mind knows who owns you, I'm just waiting for the rest of you to realize it."
"I don't know why it's so hard for me to hate you, even after everything you do to me..."
"Your body knows you belong to me. Your body and subconscious mind knows who owns you, I'm just waiting for the rest of you to realize it."
Whumpee didn't want to believe it. But it was true; they found it borderline impossible to be mad at Whumper, let alone leave them. So what if Whumper was right? What if all they needed to get out of this predicament mentally was to convince their conscious mind that they belonged to Whumper?
"How do I stop it?"
Whumper raised an eyebrow. "Stop what?"
"The thoughts. The thoughts that urge me to run."
Whumper smiled. "Oh, Whumpee. That's why I'm here. I'll do that for you."
"... Are you leaving?"
"... Are you leaving?"
Caretaker looked away. Whumpee looked so broken, their voice sounded broken, they just seemed absolutely shattered. But they had to leave. This wasn't healthy for anyone involved.
"I'm sorry," they ended up saying.
Whumpee didn't say another word. They just watched as Caretaker slung the backback over their shoulder and exited the apartment.
This was best for everybody.
Wasn't it?
"I'm going to find you, and when I do, I will kill you," they promised before hanging up.
"I'm going to find you, and when I do, I will kill you," they promised before hanging up.
Whumper swallowed. They knew that voice on the other side of the phone — Caretaker. They had no doubt in their mind that Caretaker would stop at nothing to fulfil their promise.
So they grabbed a suitcase and started packing.
"You'll forgive me in time. You always do."
"You'll forgive me in time. You always do."
"Not this time," Whumpee said. "Not this time."
"Oh, Whumpee..." Whumper stepped closer, and before Whumpee could back away, they had two arms around their waist, pulling them closer, leaning in for a kiss. Whumpee at least managed to turn their head so it became a kiss on the cheek instead of the lips. "Don't play hard to get."
"I'm not playing. We're married, for one— But not for long."
"Try it," Whumper murmured. "Try divorcing me. See what happens."
