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I'll still be here

Summary:

Not again, he thought as he dug down the trap in front of the door.

Not again, he whispered as he saw Cleo's body laying motionless at the end of the pit.

Not again, he shouted as he hugged their cold body between the not bloody spikes.

Not again, he demanded from the unseen forces that were now starting to cloud his vision.

Not again, he begged as he touched Cleo's cold, pale face.

Notes:

after this season the martyn brainworms have started god help me

shout out to my beta thank u sm for helping!!!!

Work Text:

The lighting strike made Martyn's heart completely stop. This isn't real he told himself as he looked at the message in the chat. How could it be? His eyes and ears were clearly deceiving him, he had gone mad! He wanted that to be truthful hardheartedly.

Because if it wasn't. If his senses were truly working as intended. Then that means that Cleo just died.

Cleo who was in his line of sight two seconds ago before. Cleo who was the one that always told him to be more careful. Cleo who was always so put together, so in tune with what might or might not be dangerous. It meant that Cleo was now dead.

His sword fell out of his hand as he rushed to the entrance of the Lighthouse, praying that somehow there had been a mistake, a glitch in this game. That this wasn't truly happening.

Not again.

Those were the words that kept repeating in his head. Over and over, smashing into the sides of his skull like they were about to break him open.

Not again, he thought as he dug down the trap in front of the door.

Not again, he whispered as he saw Cleo's body laying motionless at the end of the pit.

Not again, he shouted as he hugged their cold body between the not bloody spikes.

Not again, he demanded from the unseen forces that were now starting to cloud his vision.

Not again, he begged as he touched Cleo's cold, pale face.

This couldn't be happening, he couldn't continue like this. 

"Take me," he slowly said, not daring to take his eyes off of the zombie's face in case the figures suddenly snatched them. "Take me not them."

He couldn't let this happen again. He had promised himself that this time it would be different, that this time, he wouldn't be left alone, that this time he wouldn't be so selfish. Was he really that much of a failure? Was it just in his nature to watch all his teammates die? For him to always be the one last left alive when the curtain falls?

He wasn't supposed to get this far, he shouldn't be here. He didn't deserve to be in this position, cradling the body of his friend as tears streamed down his cheeks. He knew that the figures were watching but what could he do to stop them? Was that what they had wanted, a show? A spectacle?

Did they want him to only get here so that he could make a fool of himself in the end? So that, when his time came, he would perish with nobody to hold him close? Was that his fate?

The figures had started to murmur but even if he wanted to hear what they had to say Martyn could not concentrate on their words.

Or maybe this is retaliation?

Maybe this was his punishment, something that had been decided long before he had been thrust into this new world. In his past lives he had cheated, stolen and betrayed most of his once companions so maybe this was truly what he deserved. To feel the lifeless body of the one person he had desperately wanted to see live.

"It should have been me," he spoke, the words flowing painfully out of him in a more than familiar way. "I shouldn't be here, bring them back, please."

The murmurs had grown louder, to the point where Martyn wanted to place his hands over his ears but that would mean letting go of Cleo's body, a fate that seemed much worse than if his hearing was to be damaged.

So he did the only thing he could. He listened.

In a final act of kindness, the man placed his hands over the zombie's ears so that even in death they could be spared of their voices.

The figures talked over each other as they always did. Matyn had long learned that their voices were somewhat like a puzzle, you just had to hear them from the right angle and then all the words would start to click.

Our little Listener….

How far along…. you have made your way…

"Please just take me, I-" his voice was breaking and it felt as if all the words that he wanted to say were folding in on themselves. 

You ask for something that you already know…. we can not do.

He started to feel Cleo's flesh underneath his gingers start to shift. Becoming more squishy and loosing its color rapidly. He had see this enough times to know what was happening. 

"Please you can't take them!"

And yet…

The figures broke out in what might have been either a laugh or a scream but, whatever it was, it was giving Martyn a headache. He shifted his attention from them to Cleo, whose whole body was starting to slowly fade out of existence.

"Cleo listen to me," he once again begged, pressing his mouth right up against their ear. "I will wait for you all right? After this is over, in the next life, when we meet again I will be there, I promise you I will be there. An- and I'll wait for you." He couldn't hear his own words over Their voices who were becoming louder and louder in a cacophony of sound that was making the ground itself start to shake.

"As long as it takes, no matter how many more games I have to- to deal with, I will wait until we can both escape. Together," he continued to ramble, unsure if his words managed to carry any meaning. How could he ever be able to convey what he meant- what he felt, how he was willing to wait through thousands of more of these games until he and Cleo could be freed.

How he would always be there for them? How could he never choose to leave until he could be certain that Cleo would be right behind him?

"We will get out of here all right?" He tried to sound as hopeful as he could but as he saw what was left of his friend disappear once and for all, only the tears running down his face remained.

For a beautiful, blissful moment, there was silence. The voices had stopped and Martyn could hear himself cry clearly. He almost wanted to laugh. When was the last time he had heard himself like that?

But the small window of silence quickly faded and the voices returned for one last chorus, now louder than Martyn had ever heard them before. The sounds themselves were suffocating. His vision darkened as long black strands of what felt like silk started to fill up his throat so that any plea for help had no chance of escaping him.


And with one final screech, the final crescendo as the walls of the tunnel started to once again shake and threaten to crumble. With one final note that would leave scars upon his very soul-

We will hear from you soon, our dearest Listener.

 

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