@veniaes asked: you’ll only ever really know you’re living if you’re totally sure that you’re dying. Cloud.
𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫. not a new man——— never a new man, not when that’s all he’s spent being. himself. the cloud he lived as, once. but when he looks at his arm, rotting, when his head pounds, piercing, he wonders what went wrong. at what point did his body suffer invasion again, invisible all the same, but just as viscerally painful.
marceline wouldn’t have any way of knowing about his state, 𝘴𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰… no, not home.
his sight is set on the flower bed in front of them, and cloud doesn’t realize he’s so, so lost for words when the last echo of her voice dissipates. maybe because he’s unnerved by her reading. he’s had enough of people reading him so thoroughly for him to listen and take it. cloud moves his healthy—healthier—arm from the pillar it leaned on, and opens hims mouth. closes it. opens again.
i’ll take you home, he wanted to say, before another headache strikes again. amidst the relentless pulsing and prickling and tearing, he thinks he’s fallen to the ground. distantly, another gasp. another thud. 𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙖𝙨 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡 ?
against me sentences. ♡ * closed !