Actions

Work Header

I Shouldn't be Curious, so Why am I?

Summary:

The Fount of Knowledge finds himself curious about pain, he shouldn't be, he knows everything. He knows he deserves it.

Notes:

So uhm.. i have this inside joke with my friends that i always get yaoi ideas during my social studies class (it's true and i end up drawing it) but this time it was a writing idea fuck yeah

REMEMBER, JAM IS CANONICALLY BLOOD!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The Fount of Knowledge lied awake in bed, every day feels the same, the repetition almost jarring. He found his mind racing with questions, he thought he knew everything, he shouldn't be curious.

Yet he found himself aching and yearning to know. He felt sick to his stomach, his head ached, just like every day prior. The amount of speaking he did to all the cookies in his academy strained his voice, making his tears stay silent as he let them out.

He reminded himself, Deep breaths..The Sugar of Happiness said that could ease my nerves when she couldn't.. 

He took a deep breath in, holding it for too long to be very calming, releasing it in a loud gasp, causing his throat to ache worse. 

He wished and cried quietly, that he didn't have to have questions, but he did. He hated being confused, it felt wrong, to defy his very purpose, to know the answer.

His eyes ached along with every limb in his body. He felt like he was doused in inferno, sweat clinging to every inch of his dough.

The Fount pulled himself out of his bed, staggering to the opposite end of his chambers, already regretting this choice as his head suddenly throbbed.

The bright light, the ringing of his ears, the heat of his robes, the whirlwind of his thoughts all proved too much to resist for the poor cookie.

"To hell with this.."

The events that happen next all seem a blur to him, all he remembers is waking up on the floor in the middle of his chambers in a pool of his own jam.

He shot up, his eyes already stinging again, the lights had been turned off, his head felt worse, heavier. A pool of drool mixed in his glittery hair, along with his jam.

He examined his surroundings, feeling hazy, as if all his knowledge had been stripped away from him, he blinked once, twice, three times, he still felt off.

He was usually able to just bounce back, knowledge couldn't wait. The Fount peeled himself off of the floor, looking at how much jam there was strewn around the carpet.

He couldn't remember a single detail of what had happened, it all felt so...surreal. 

The pain hit him like a brick to the face, jolts of excruciating agony traveling from his wrists to his brain too fast to comprehend, even with a mind as great as his. 

His head shot in the direction of his wrists, his gaze following suit. There, deep, bleeding gashes all over both of them caused him to double back, leaning himself on his writing desk.

His eyes no longer stung as they were filled with the tears of anxiety. He couldn't grasp what was happening before he keeled over and retched, his dough trembling as sweat rose from his forehead.

---/////////////////////////////////////---

Shadow Milk Cookie shot up in his bed, sweating profusely yet still feeling freezing, tears teased the edges of his eyes, his breathing panicked and uneven.

He clutched his blanket, finding solace in the softness of the polyester's warmth. He felt his throat closing up, making it hell to even just breathe. 

He felt bile rise in his throat, running to the bathroom attached to him and Pure Vanilla's chambers. The moment he reached the toilet, all contents he had consumed within the last day were in there instead.

He trembled, he didn't understand why he felt this way, why he was just now remembering this, why he even still remembered it after all those centuries.

The moment the vomit finally stopped, his gaze drifted to his wrists, scarred in dark teal against his light dough. He didn't wanna add fresh ones but the urge was so unbearable.

He was always the worst at saying no, even to himself.

---\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\---

 

Pure Vanilla Cookie stirred in his sleep, hearing noises coming from the door of him and Shadow Milk's chambers and the bathroom not even seconds later.

His tired gaze lazily drifted to the other side of the bed, where he expected to see his beloved but was met with messy blankets and a tear stained pillow.

Panic set in as he heard sniffling from the bathroom and the clattering that sounded like dropping a metal object. 

Pure Vanilla threw the covers off of himself, not caring to put his slippers on. He bolted to the bathroom door, the light making its way through the crack, shining upon the dark room.

He ripped the door open, his voice not soft, it was panicked as he yelled, "Shadow milk, are you-"

He paused in place, his voice coming to an abrupt halt as well. Pure Vanilla's eyes watered at the sight of Shadow Milk sitting on the floor with bleeding arms, a knife covered in dark blue jam on the floor next to him as he held his face in his arms.

Pure Vanilla stood in place for a moment, he didn't look puzzled, he looked afraid, his brows furrowed, his lips pressed tightly into a thin line, his pupils small.

Pure Vanilla swallowed thickly, walking out and back into their bedroom, fading into the darkness of the night. Shadow Milk didn't call out for him, he knew he wouldn't be gone long. 

About 30 seconds later, Pure Vanilla returned to Shadow Milk curled against the bathtub, tugging on his white bangs with immense force.

Shadow Milk didn't glance up at Pure Vanilla, the eyes in his hair did, but his own eyes remained shut tight as he trembled, feeling so afraid.

Pure Vanilla gently plopped down into his knees to Shadow Milk's right, holding his hand out, an invitation for Shadow Milk to take it.

Shadow Milk reached out and set his hand into Pure Vanilla's. A beat passed before Pure Vanilla started humming softly, only one continuous note. Shadow Milk perked up when the pain in his arms began to subside.

Shadow Milk finally opened his own eyes to see what was happening. The blood on his wrists drying up and his arms beginning to glow a yellow hue, contrasting the blue.

Pure Vanilla Cookie was healing him. He was always good at healing what was broken, wasn't he?

Shadow Milk let the tenseness in his shoulders dissipate as his wrists were completely healed and he was lifted into the other cookie's arms.

Pure Vanilla calmly carried his beloved out of the bathroom, turning off the light with his elbow. Once he reached the bed, Shadow Milk was lightly set down into the mattress, like he was made of glass.

Pure Vanilla slipped into bed next to Shadow Milk, wrapping and arm around him.

"Rest, my love. We can speak about this in the morning," Pure Vanilla calmly reassured Shadow Milk, the tremble in his voice betraying his calm mannerisms.

They fell asleep together, Shadow Milk's nightmare a burning memory as he had a dream.

It was a lovely dream.