Work Text:
The library was, ironically, all but silent. Over the sound of gamer boys tapping away at their near-dysfunctional WASD keys, said gamer boys could be heard screeching inane insults at each other as they, with their one collective IQ point, played Fortnite.
“FUCK YOU!!!!!” Kevin screamed as he was killed again. On his previously smashed laptop, text glowed bright, taunting him. With another yell, he put his fist through his screen and watched it fade to black. Shards of glass were embedded in his knuckles, so, overcome with his gamer boy rage, he punched the boy next to him.
“OW! SON OF A BITCH!!” yelled Pete, in true msi style. “YOU MADE ME LOSE!!!! I SWEAR, I WILL EAT YOUR BROTHER'S ASS, YOU HEAR ME???? I WILL EAT HIS FUCKING ASS AND MAKE YOU WATCH-“ he was cut off by a deep rumble. A jagged piece of carpeted concrete made its way into Kevin's eye as a hole opened up in the floor. Ignoring the boy’s screams, Pete peered, curious, into the newly-formed chasm.
“YOU CALLED??” Pete screamed and stumbled back. From the hole emerged a creature of beauty, a creature of magnificence. A creature of perfection.
“H-hi, Patrick,” Kevin stuttered as he tried to pull the concrete, lodged deep into his macula, out of his steadily bleeding eye. Pete couldn’t help but let his jaw drop a little.
“That’s your brother???” Pete glanced at the hulking mass of skin, bone, organ, and fat presented before him. Before he could say another word, Patrick scrambled towards him on hands and knees, frothing at the mouth.
“You made a promise,” Patrick hissed as his crazed crawling turned into a slither. He wiggled, past the chairs, past the bookshelves, closer and closer towards Pete. “Are you going to keep it?”
Pete's heart fluttered in his chest. On one hand, he could finally lose his virginity. On another... Before he could form another coherent thought, Patrick leapt forwards again. Now that he was close up, he could see the individual red lines running up and down his eyeballs. His nose was also running, Pete noticed, snot rubbed all over his upper lip and glistening under the harsh fluorescent lights above. “Well?” Patrick growled, prowling even closer. “I don’t like the dishonest, Pete. In fact, I eat them. I can eat you, too. I’ll drown you in a rosemary-lemon marinade. I’ll mount you on a spit and cook you like a chicken. And after I eat you, I’ll shit you out and do it all over again. How does that sound?”
“Awful. Nope. Zero out of ten, do not recommend.” Pete instantly regretted his decision to speak as Patrick swiped a hand across his lower torso. He didn’t notice anything at first, but then he looked down and realised that, hey, Patrick's fingernails were pretty fucking sharp. This revelation, however, was a bit late, because, by the time he noticed that some real damage could’ve been done to him, his guts were already spilling out the gap in his stomach. Patrick laughed, a brash, jarring sound, before he twisted herself into a large donut and rolled away.
Oh no, you don’t, Pete thought. Determination fuelling him, he wrapped his fallen innards around him, just as he would spaghetti around a fork, and began to power-walk after Patrick.
Patrick, however, too caught up in making the transition from rolling to cartwheeling, didn’t notice Pete. So, as Patrick bent down to place his hands on the ground, Pete attacked, sinking his teeth into his left ass cheek. He chewed, then swallowed, then took another bite. “If you must know,” Pete said, through bites of ass meat, “I’m a man of my word.” And with that, he tossed what remained of Patrick into a nearby wood chipper before promptly dying.