Work Text:
Fount tugged on the know he'd been fighting for the last thirty minutes, trying to make sure it could handle his weight without coming undone.
It was rather irritiating, trying to fix the thing, though it seemed like he'd done it.
He blinked at the noose in his hands.
He didn't know if this was really what he wanted.
He'd thought about it so many times, over and over again, but it still wasn't... exactly what he desired, was it?
There wasn't really another way out of this, either.
Not one that didn't really hurt anyone.
He should probably write some kind of note to explain things to his friends, shouldn't he? They'd probably want to know, right?
…Maybe they wouldn't. It wasn't like they knew anything that was going on. They were nice to him, sure, but they probably wouldn't… really… care. Or notice.
Nothing he could say or write would matter, anyway. It couldn't explain anything. Not when no one knew anything. No one would ever read it, either.
He slipped his head through, kicking the chair out from under him.
The rope barely went more than a few seconds before snapping.
…Well. Of course it snapped. It was clear to him from the start it would do that, wasn't it? Of course this wouldn't work, even if it didn't break. His stupid immortality would've 'protected' him.
He didn't want it to. He wanted it to work, he just wanted it to be over, to be done, he wanted it to stop hurting, he wanted his head to be quiet, he wanted…
He wanted a hug.
He really wanted a hug.
He almost wanted someone to see him like this. To realize something was wrong, to tell him not to. To help him fix it. To comfort him, even just... for a moment.
Almost.
He'd really hate to be seen behaving in such a pathetic way. No one needed to know what was wrong. He already knew he wasn't supposed to act like this. No one had to tell him that. He could fix it on his own, he didn't need anyone's comfort.
He wouldn't listen to them, either. He never really did. Not most of the time anyway. He just wanted to whine about everything without actually fixing the problem.
…he did try to help himself before. He tried to be better. and every single time it didn't work.
He glanced toward the mirror in the corner of the room.
He looked so utterly pathetic.
Fount sighed, pulling the rope off his neck and pushing himself off the floor, trying to ignore how dizzy he felt.
He was exhausted.
It was pretty late, wasn't it? Maybe he did it because he wasn't thinking straight. What time even was it? A couple hours past midnight or so?
He didn't care. He didn't need to sleep that badly anyway. He was always just fine when he went without it, albeit a little… drowsy, to say the least.
He fell into his bed, wrapping himself around one of the pillows. It felt warmer than usual.
What was he supposed to do now? Just… act like it didn't happen?
He could write to his friends and tell them what happened. Ask for… some kind of comfort, at least. They probably wouldn't be mad at him for doing so, but…
He didn't need to bother them. They all had their own problems to deal with. He didn't actually get hurt, so going and whining to them about something he chose to do would just be stupid.
He didn't need help anyway. He'd been mostly fine alone, at least until now. And, seeing as it didn't kill him, he could go on just fine with his duties as usual. Nothing had to change, and no one had to start worrying about him just because he wasn't doing perfect.
He should be completely fine. There was no reason he should be this way. Everything was fine. He was just overreacting to every little thing and viewing it as terrible. It was irrational. He wasn't supposed to be irrational, was he?
Then he shouldn't tell anyone. It was inherently against what he was supposed to be, behaving so illogically.
He would be just fine alone.
Maybe it was a better idea to act like it didn't happen. That way, he was the only one who got hurt, and no one else had to worry.
If it was his own actions that hurt him, then it was his own fault, and he deserved it, right?
Maybe it didn't work because he deserved to still be stuck here. To keep constantly having to question why, to deal with cookies' endless questions, to be attacked for answering them, to yearn for someone to help, to understand why.
Maybe he simply deserved being hurt. That was it. Nothing more than that.
He'd never been 'happy' either way. He was burdened from the very moment he was created. This was all he knew, and all he'd ever get to know.
He just wanted to sleep.
How was he not asleep already?
Couldn't his mind just shut up?
He could think about all of this in the morning. There was no need to be so worried about it right now.
He could handle it just fine. He'd forget in a couple centuries.
…Well, maybe he wouldn't. He didn't usually forget anything, but it'd become unimportant by then.
None of what happened mattered.
He'd be fine.
…Say, it wasn't that far from the dawn. He could probably just get started on what he need to do now. Work on writing yet another spellbook before he had to go deal with nonsense cookies who blamed him for everything.
He pushed himself up off the bed, trying to ignore how absolutely exhausted he was.
He could just focus on what he needed to do, and he'd be perfectly fine.
He didn't need to whine about it to anyone else.
He'd be fine. He always was fine. Nothing had to change, and no one had to know. Everything would be just fine in a couple hours.
...
He really wanted a hug.