It took Blue a few moments to process what Dust had just said. For another few moments, Blue was convinced that he had heard Dust wrong, but the words had been clear as day. In the last few moments before he spoke, Blue told himself that Dust was just messing with him. That there was no way that he could really mean that when he surely never meant it before. When he spoke, however, the only thing he could think of was how awful it was of Dust to say something like that.
"That's not funny," Blue said, tensing up.
Dust's eyes widened at Blue's response. "I... I'm not joking," he insisted.
"I said it's not funny!" Blue said, his voice cracking and eyes locking with Dust's.
"And I said," Dust started steadily, not breaking eye contact. "That I'm not joking."
Blue's mind was a mess, and it took almost everything he had to not flip out his pocket knife to mess with it. It was a coping mechanism that he found many people were not comfortable being around, especially when they didn't know or understand you. He was even more sure, however, that Dust would not be okay with it. All the same, the lack of its comforting clicks only made matters worse.
He doesn't love me.
He was supposed to apologize.
We were supposed to move on.
What does he want from me?
Is this a trick?
Is he trying to trick me?
Why would he do this?
Does he hate me?
Am I judging too soon?
I said I'd give him a second chance.
Second chance.
Second chance.
Second chance.
Taking a deep breath, Blue managed to force out the words he wanted to, "Why did you want to meet me?"
He could almost hear Dust roll his eyes, but the other's voice didn't reveal any annoyance, and was, rather, filled with seriousness. "To tell you that I want you back."
"Well, did you consider my feelings?" Blue asked, trying to tread carefully. His hands were shaking.
"Of course I did!" Dust exclaimed, leaning forward.
"What if I don't want you, then?" Blue blurted.
There was a moment of silence where neither spoke. Blue could hardly believe that he'd actually said it. Firstly, he felt a rush of relief. He'd expressed how he felt, and that's something to be proud of. Secondly, he felt embarrassment. As amazing as it is to communicate, he had not been planning on saying that out loud, and the look of shock and disappointment on Dust's face only made things worse. Lastly, Blue could feel fear wash over him. The atmosphere was becoming steadily more tense, and, more than anything else, Blue just wanted to be at home with his brother. He shouldn't have come. He shouldn't have lied to Stretch. He should have said "no", and stayed home.
Dust's voice broke him out of his spiral.
"I've changed." He sounded desperate. "I swear I have. I've been clean since rehab. I have healthy coping mechanisms now, I really do. I learned a lot about myself in therapy, and I'm sorry for what I did. I'm sorry, okay? I'm really, really sorry."
Blue watched, dumbfounded as Dust continued to rant on.
"I've never met anyone else like you, Blue. I really haven't. You're perfect in everyway. No one can replace you. Please," he begged, "give me another chance." Dust reached forward, clasping Blue's hand tightly.
Blue flinched upon the contact and pulled away on instinct. He felt guilty, however, once he saw the hurt look on Dust's face, though. Maybe... maybe he really had changed.
"Blue, please."
The smaller skeleton watched, horrified, as the other sunk further and further into himself, wrapping his arms around himself.
"Please. You're all I have."
Blue felt his eyes well with tears, and his hands started to twitch. He didn't want to be with Dust again. He really, really didn't. He was afraid of what would happen if he agreed. He was also afraid, however, of what would happen if he didn't. Wouldn't it be cruel to say no? It really did seem like Dust had changed. Besides, who was Blue to deny someone a second chance? Isn't that what everyone deserves?
His head filled with an impossible number of "what if"s.
What if he really has changed?
What if he hasn't?
What if my rejection puts him over the edge again?
What if my acceptance puts me over the edge again?
What if something happens?
What if I can't do it?
What if I can't handle it?
What if I blow it?
What if he blows it?
What if I said no?
What if I said "yes."
"What?" Dust asked, leaning his elbows onto the table.
Not fully processing what was happening, Blue repeated himself: "Yes."
Dust leaned even further forward, his eyebrows raising hopefully. "You... you want to try again?"
"Yes."
The taller skeleton smiled widely, grabbing Blue's hand and squeezing it tightly. "You won't regret it, I promise! I'll be the best me I can be! All for you!"
In his absent state of mind, Blue didn't pull out of his grasp. He nodded, idly picking at a coffee ring on the table as his mind wandered. How long had they been apart for before now? How long had Dust been wanting to say this? How long would this last?
Stretch was probably worried. He should go back home. He should get up and go back home. Now.
"Do you want me to get you a coffee or something?" Dust asked, still excitedly holding Blue's hand.
Blue shook his head and looked up at the other. "No, I should probably go home. Papyrus will be worried."
"Oh."
Blue couldn't help the shiver that ran up his spine at the tone in Dust's voice. Rather than sounding disappointed or upset, he sounded annoyed.
"Did you walk or drive here?" Dust asked, and Blue dismissed his previous thoughts.
"I walked," he said, but as he looked out the window now, he noticed that it had gotten quite a bit darker. That could be a bit of a problem.
"Do you want me to drive you home?" Dust offered.
Blue considered the offer. He considered which way would be safer and which way he would be more comfortable. Walking, he thought, would be better for both aspects. The meaning behind those thoughts quickly diminished, however, at the thought of having to walk home after a day like this.
"Could you, please?" Blue asked carefully. "I would really appreciate it."
A small smile spread on Dust's face. "Of course," he said, getting up. He held out his hand for Blue to take once more, and Blue hesitated. Feeling bad when Dust's smile faded a bit, he slowly took the other's hand. He instantly felt Dust's grip tighten, and he rose from the seat.
Dust all but dragged him to the car, opening and closing the door for Blue with a smile. He then moved to the driver's side and started the car with a sputter.
It was the same car that Dust had always had, but the inside seemed to be a little bit cleaner. There was less trash thrown haphazardly onto the seats, and Dust had finally gotten his cracked windshield replaced. It still had the potent smell of old fast food and alcohol, but, frankly, it had smelled that way for so long that Blue was convinced that it had smelled that way when Dust bought it.
Dust turned on his lights and shifted the car into drive. "Off we go!" he said.
The car ride would probably be a total of three minutes long, but Blue knew that Dust would find a way to include as much conversation as he could, even if the words were completely meaningless.
"So, how have you been?" Dust asked, temporarily flicking his eyes in Blue's direction.
Blue thought carefully before answering, afraid of how Dust would react. "I've been... alright, I suppose," he settled on. There was a pause. "How have you been?"
"I've been absolutely peachy," Dust said, and Blue couldn't decide if he was being sarcastic or not. "I guess that therapy and rehab were good, too, but they were incredibly frustrating. I hate when people think they can just change me."
Blue sank into the seat, wishing that Dust would stop speaking.
"It was... helpful," he continued. "I definitely feel more stable, and I've, for sure, got more healthy coping mechanisms now, so that's nice."
Frankly, Blue couldn't tell if Dust was happy with how things had gone, and it terrified him.
"Of course, I would never willingly do that ever again," Dust said with a laugh. A moment later, however, he mumbled something about "fucking nosy neighbors."
Blue kept his mouth shut, desperately trying not to cry. He watched the now empty sidewalk as they drove and wished that the ride would just be over.
Dust glanced towards the other. "Hey, are you alright? You're... quieter than normal."
Flinching, Blue gave a forced smile. "Oh, yeah, I'm perfectly okay!" he lied. "I'm just tired, you know? I didn't sleep well last night." He hoped that he was convincing.
"Ah, I see," Dust said, tone icy. "I hope you sleep better tonight, then."
"Yeah... me too," Blue responded.
They turned down the street where Blue's house resided, and Blue's eyes widened as he realized that he hadn't had to tell Dust where to go. It must have somehow slipped his mind until now, but he doesn't know how he could forget something so significant.
"You still remember where I live?" he asked, but it was really more of a statement.
It took Dust a moment to answer. "Yeah."
"That's... cool," Blue said, trying to sound cheerful.
Dust only hummed in response.
He pulled the car into Blue's driveway and put it into park. Blue started unbuckle and get out of the car, but Dust stopped him.
"Unblock me," he said.
Blue faltered for a moment. "...what?"
Dust rolled his eyes. "Unblock me, stupid. How else am I supposed to text you?"
"Oh," Blue managed. "Right. Sorry."
"Text you later, then," Dust said as Blue hurriedly opened the door and stepped into the driveway.
"Yeah," Blue said, shutting the door. He gave a quick wave and walked as fast as he could to the front door. It took him a few seconds to get it unlocked because his hands were shaking so badly, but he eventually slid the key in the lock and opened the door. It was shut and locked in record time.
"I'm home!" Blue croaked. He could hear the sound of the TV from the living room.
"Welcome back," Stretch called. "Did you have fun?"
"...yeah," Blue said as he poked his head into the living room. "Have you eaten?" he asked.
"Nope," Stretch drawled, popping the p.
Blue groaned and made his way into the kitchen. "You're so lazy!"
"Aww, thanks, bro."
"Can you at least help me?" Blue said, pulling mac-n-cheese mix from the pantry and frowning. His mind buzzed uncomfortably as he tried to read the instructions on the box. He managed to make out a few lines before giving up. It would have to do.
"Blue... think about it. Do you really want me in the kitchen?" Stretch asked.
Blue set the box down on the counter and opened a cabinet, looking for a suitably sized pot. He thought for a moment about Stretch's question and figured he made a good point. "Just don't distract me," he grumbled in response.
Stretch let out a laugh. "Can do!"
Setting the pot on the stove and turning up the heat, Blue opened the faucet and began to take off his gloves. He had just placed the second glove onto the counter when his phone buzzed. With a moment's hesitance, Blue took his phone from his pocket and turned it on. His appetite immediately disappeared at the sight of the text.
"Thank you for giving me another chance. It'll be worth it," it read. "Now, unblock my other number already."
Blue frowned and placed his phone onto the counter, opting not to respond. He returned to the running faucet and stuck his hands underneath the water. His eyes locked onto his arms. The criss-cross scars stood out on the otherwise smooth surface. The longer he stared, the harder it was to look away. He thought to his pocket knife, and could feel his arms start to itch. He considered for a moment, then shook his head. Not worth it. Blue forced his eyes away from the scars and finished washing his hands.
He then took the pot and placed it under the stream of water, his eyes once again darting to his arms as it filled. They certainly were ugly. It was a good thing that he wore his gloves or everyone would judge him. Hell, he would judge him.
He sighed, and his mind clouded. It really had been quite the day.
A meeting with Dust.
The rekindling of a relationship.
Painful, stinging regret.
All thanks to his complete and utter spinelessness.
Blue glanced down to the scars again, and he made a decision.
He dumped the water out of the pot and placed it into the drying rack. He then threw the mac-n-cheese box back into the pantry.
Grabbing his gloves, he passed through the living room and went down the hall to his bedroom. He closed the door behind him and locked it. He went through the actions as if they were routine.
Blue pulled out the pocket knife and instinctively flipped out the blade.
Expression blank, he brought the blade down to his arm.
Flecks of white scattered themselves around him, and, with one clean slice, red began to flow.
The sting startled him; it felt different from how he remembered it, but euphoria washed over him all the same.
For a few amazing seconds, a smile resided on Blue's face, and then regret creeped in.
"Oh no," he said. "Oh no."
He threw the knife across the room, and it clanked as it hit the floor.
His arm stung, and he panicked for a moment.
"What did I do?" he asked desperately, praying that this wasn't real.
He'd been doing so well.
"What did I do?!" His voice cracked as he stumbled into the bathroom and desperately tried to stop the bleeding.
He held tissue to the laceration as tears began to drop from his eyes. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. What the fuck is wrong with me?"
After a few minutes, the bleeding slowed to almost a stop. Blue flushed the dirtied tissues down the toilet and splashed water on his face. The face in the mirror that looked back was all too familiar. He then hesitantly looked down at the damage. There was a large divot in the smooth bone now, the newly exposed layer of bone a pearly white. Flinching, he looked away again. He'd certainly had worse, but this wasn't good.
He sighed, trying not to cry again. I should tell Papyrus, he thought. I've been doing so well, though... He'd be so disappointed.
Blue's eyes settled on the gloves resting on the bed, and he froze.
Grabbing one, he slipped the injured arm into it.
I'll save him the trouble, Blue thought with an unsteady smile, examining the concealing piece of clothing. I just won't do it again. Then, it won't even matter.
He slipped the other glove on and took a deep breath.
Quietly, Blue opened his door and stepped out into the hall. His steps were a little shaky, but he continued to walk forward anyways, hoping that they would get steadier as he went. He entered the living room, the television still on, Stretch's eyes glued to it. With a sigh, Blue crossed in front of the television to sit down, effectively catching Stretch's attention.
"What happened to dinner?" he asked as he watched Blue place himself on the couch.
Blue gave him a tired look, but tried to smile anyway. "I have a cold."