General Ride the Cyclone One-shots

by StarClanlight

Summary:

A one-shot book for RTC

Requests are open!

Chapter 1: Requests

What I will do

-Angst
-Hurt/comfort
-Hurt/no comfort
-Character death
-Fluff
-Humor
-mild gore

What I won't do

-Smut
- x Reader
-Reader insert
-major gore

Chapter 2: What the fuck??

Summary:

Noel was early to Choir once: he was never going to be early again.

Ocean was just sitting in the choir room getting ready for class, she was early per usual and was sorting the music they had to perfect before the choir competition at the annual fall fair. She was oblivious to her surroundings as she hummed and organized the music and put it into each of the choir's music folders because let any of them, minus Constance, actually put their stuff away let alone organized and neat.

She was sure Noel did it on purpose because he knew it annoyed her.

Lost in thought she didn't hear someone enter the choir room and walk up behind her, when she felt hands on her waist she practically jumped three feet in the air. But her panic died when she heard the familiar deep laughter behind her, she turned and fixed the man behind her with a withering glare.

"What have I told you about scaring me, Mischa?" Ocean asked looking at him unimpressed, but she didn't pull away from him if anything she leaned into his touch further.

"Come on Маленька Королева, it's fun to scare you," Mischa said looking down at the short redhead smiling fondly at the way she flushed.

Ocean huffed a laugh, as if begrudgingly amused. "And you wonder why I never take you seriously," she retorted, arching a brow at the towering man.

Mischa only grinned wider at her words, the corners of his hazel eyes crinkling in obvious delight. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he lied with dramatic innocence, his hands wandering closer to her hips.

Ocean rolled her eyes, but her lips curved into a small smile, nonetheless. She nudged him slightly with an elbow and went back to arranging the choir sheets. Mischa watched her for a moment, the fondness in his gaze filling her with warmth.

They had been dating for a few months now, but while Mischa would love to tell everyone about how much he loved her Ocean wanted to keep their relationship a secret. So, Mischa kept their relationship a secret and showered her with affection whenever they were alone and he could, he found it kind of cute how she was easily flustered and how she just melted into his affections.

She wasn’t the best at romance or affection, but she tried, and he found her little random gifts adorable and kept them all on a shelf in his room. Ocean had made him many little bracelets and got happy and a bit flustered whenever she saw him wearing one of the new ones she gifted him.

A soft hum left her lips as she began putting each of the folders into their correct shelf, she took hers and looked over the music humming bits and pieces of each song.

"Need some help?" Mischa's voice was a low rumble behind her and Ocean laughed softly, "I thought you said you can't read music?"

"Just because I can't read it doesn't mean I can't help," he protested lightly and Ocean shook her head, a small smile on her face.

It was quiet for a few minutes until Mischa grabbed her folder out of her hands and put it on one of the tables in the choir room, then he grabbed her by her hips and pulled her closer to him chuckling at her slight squeak of shock.

Before she could see something he pulled her into a gentle, loving kiss. She kissed him back her hands rising to wrap around his neck, she pushed herself up onto her tiptoes to make it easier to kiss him. Mischa kept one hand on her waist while the other moved up to cup her cheek gently as if she was as fragile as glass.

Their kiss ended far too soon for Ocean's liking, but she didn't complain. After all, they had choir practice to prepare for and her heart was still pounding in her chest from the surprise smooch.

"Mischa!" she chastised, even though her eyes sparkled with mirth. "We're supposed to be working."

"Who says we can't do both?" He countered, winking at her mischievously.

But she shook her head, pushing him lightly away and turning back to the choir folders. "No distractions," she commanded, her tone almost stern.

Mischa sighed overdramatically but complied. He followed her over to where she was beginning to organize some older music that she had pulled out alphabetically, they had about fifteen minutes before Choir was going to begin officially.

Mischa kept teasing her with gentle touches as he helped her organize and small kisses to the top of her head and her forehead, enjoying watching her flush and glare halfheartedly at him.

"You are absolutely ruining my productivity," she scolded him, although her twinkling eyes betrayed the affection behind her words.

Mischa just threw his head back and laughed, a hearty sound that echoed through the choir room. "Then I think I'm doing my job right."

Suddenly, in an attempted display of her annoyance, Ocean grabbed a nearby paper ball from one of the desks and threw it at Mischa's chest. He feigned pain dramatically acting as if she had just punched him with a spiked glove or something.

"Oh, the pain!" he exclaimed, his free hand clutching at his chest while the other grasped onto a nearby chair for support. He staggered backwards; his eyes wide with mock surprise. "Ocean, my love, you wound me!"

Ocean watched with a smirk as Mischa played up his performance, falling to one knee and then collapsing onto the floor in a heap. She shook her head at his antics but couldn't help the giggle that bubbled out of her throat.

"Get up," she ordered him, laughing as she walked over to where he was sprawled out. She offered him her hand, but instead of accepting her help he grabbed her hand and pulled her down, so she was half laying on him.

Ocean yelped but didn’t fight his gentle hold, she just lay there and let him press gentle kisses all over her face. Mischa moved so he was overtop of Ocean and smirked flirtatiously at her, but he didn’t expect her to grab his face and pull him down for a kiss again.

Mischa was a bit surprised because Ocean wasn’t usually this affectionate when they were at school, but in her defense, it had been almost two weeks since they had any alone time to just hang out and be affectionate and he was also a little more affectionate than usual. So, he just melted into the kiss and moved to sit up, so Ocean was straddling his lap, and he could kiss her more easily.

They were so caught up in each other that they didn’t notice when Noel, who was early for once, walked in and froze in the doorway staring at them.

“What the actual FUCK!?” Noel said his voice shrill and baffled, the both of them scrambled away from each other eyes wide. No one in the choir knew they were dating; they were complete opposites and acted like they hated each other whenever they were around the others, so seeing this was a complete shock.

Ocean hopped off Mischa’s lap, hastily brushing down her skirt as she turned to face Noel, who was still standing in the doorway with his mouth agape. The two of them exchanged a glance, Ocean's heart pounding in her chest.

Mischa slowly rose from the floor, avoiding eye contact with Noel, a blush rising up his neck. "Um…hey, Noel."

"Noel!" Ocean squeaked out, her cheeks turning a bright red as she quickly started to pick up the scattered folders.

She practically slammed the folders down on a table and walked over to Noel, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and dragged him to a corner of the room her face as red as her hair, she turned to him staring at him fiercely.

“No one will believe you.” She simply said and walked back to the front of the room to compose herself just as the bell rang and the others started to walk in.

Noel watched her eyes still wide with shock, “What the fuck?” He whispered to himself. Noel was early to class once; he was never going to be early again.

Chapter 3: In my Arms I Cradle you

Summary:

Could you write something about Ocean getting hurt by her parents, and altho she tries to hide the injury the choir finds out and comforts her?
-bluebirdie0120

Notes:

Warnings
-Child Abuse
-Blood

Ocean shook as she sat huddled in the far corner of her closet sobbing softly to herself, she flinched at every crash and bang from downstairs. Her parents were high on who-knows-what again and she had panicked when she heard the yelling and the banging start, she tried her best to make a lock for her door using a chair so if her parents came looking for her, they wouldn’t get in. She was now hiding in her closet trying to stay quiet and hidden, the yelling was louder now, echoing in the hall outside her door.

Suddenly, a loud crack resonated through the house, followed by an unsettling silence. Ocean held her breath, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. There were hurried footsteps, thudded urgently up the stairs. She could hear their heated whispers growing louder as they neared her room. With a sudden vigor, they started to bang on her door.

"Ocean! Open this damn door!" Her father's growled command sent shivers down her spine. But she didn't move from her sanctuary. Instead, she pressed herself further into the shadowy corner of the closet, clutching a worn-out teddy bear close to her chest.

Ocean felt herself shrinking into the shadows. It was as though the darkness of her small closet could somehow shield her from the unseemly chaos that was her reality. She clutched tighter onto her worn teddy bear, it’s one button eye gleaming in the dim light that filtered through the slightly ajar door. Its presence provided a tiny shred of comfort in this sea of despair.

Ocean's heart pounded against her chest like a frantic drummer, threatening to burst out any moment. Her parents banged on the door and yelled for her to open the door, but she knew if she did, she’d be hurt. Especially since they were extremely high on some mixture of drugs.

So instead, she just sat in her closet, holding her worn and ragged teddy bear, and hummed softly to herself and her bear. She knew it was ‘immature’ for her to be so attached and to be ‘comforting’ herself and the bear at her age, but it was one of the few things that brought her comfort.

Her humming was a hushed, raspy lullaby that she'd learned from her grandmother during one of the very few and final times she had seen her; the melody was full of comforting warmth as it pierced the cold silence. The banging on the door became more intense, but she blocked it out, losing herself in the lilting cadence of her tune.

Suddenly, a loud thud sounded against the door, pulling Ocean back from her sanctuary of memories. She flinched, her heart pounding fiercely in response as a muffled string of curses echoed through the door.

"Ocean, don't make me break this door down!" Her father's voice was growing dangerous, a clear warning of the impending storm. But Ocean was no stranger to storms; she had weathered many, each one fiercer than the last.

Ocean tensed but stayed silent, hoping that if she stayed quiet that parents would leave her alone. But that wasn’t the case. Her dad kept screaming and pounding on the door trying to force it open, she knew he’d get in and that she should make a run for her window and get out, but she was frozen and couldn’t force her limbs to move.

The chair that had been under her doorknob finally fell and she heard her door bang open crashing against the wall, Ocean heard her parents storm into her room yelling her name and trashing her room to find her.

The sound of things being thrown around and the gruff sounds of their voices sent her heart into a frenzy. The small, dark space around her suddenly felt suffocating, as if the walls were closing in on her. Her grip on her teddy bear was so tight that the stitching was threatening to give way.

"Ocean!" Her mother's slurred call sounded right by the closet door. Ocean's breath hitched, sending a jolt of fear through her small frame. She muffled a whimper into the fur of her teddy bear.

Suddenly, the closet door was yanked open with such force that it banged against the wall. The sudden burst of light blinded her for a second, before she could react, she felt herself being dragged out of the closet by her arm. Ocean struggled and kicked trying to get free, her heart was pounding because she knew this wasn’t going to end well.

“You think you could hide from us? You fucking brat!” Her dad slurred as her mom let her go only to force her down by stepping on her shoulder.

“Dad please! No!” Ocean cried out watching her dad pull out his belt and raise it ready to hit her, she shrieked in pain when she felt the leather from the belt burn across her skin.

Suddenly, the world around her began to blur, the sharp pain from the belt strike followed by another and another until she felt like she was sinking, her senses fading. Her father's furious grunts and her mother's slurred cheers became a distant echo as Ocean's vision darkened.

The pain was unbearable, but she clung onto her consciousness with a stubborn grit, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of letting go. With each agonizing blow that landed on her raw skin, tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. But she refused to let them fall. She refused to give them another reason to laugh at her.

She curled into herself as the blows rained down, at one point she felt wetness spreading over her back and realized that the belt had broken skin. Each minute felt like hours as her parents insulted and hit her her back and sides stung with pain and she knew she wouldn’t be getting any sleep that night, Ocean had tried to beg and plead with her parents to stop and let her go but they wouldn’t relent.

Right as she thought that this was it and her parents were going to beat her to death, it was over. Her father stopped whipping her with the belt and her mother took her foot off of Ocean’s shoulder, she just laid there shaking and whimpering tears staining her cheeks as they left her lying there bleeding and sobbing.

As soon as the door closed behind them with a sour thump, the house filled with an eerie silence, her parents' raucous laughter fading into the distant corners of the house. The only sound that remained was Ocean's ragged breathing and soft whimpers of pain.

She laid there on the floor for what felt like an eternity, drained of strength and courage. The pain seared through her body, hot and white like a bolt of lightning. She felt the adrenaline slowly fade, replaced by crippling exhaustion.

With trembling, battered limbs, Ocean clawed her way to her feet. She moved gingerly, each tug and pull on her wounded skin making her wince in agony. Her back was a tapestry of pain, with raw, bleeding lines crisscrossing over her skin.

She dragged herself to her bed and collapsed on it exhausted beyond belief, Ocean drifted off into a painful and restless sleep that seemed to only exhaust her more than just staying awake.

The next morning, she forced herself out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom so she could see how bad the damage to her back was. She pulled off her torn and bloody shirt and looked into the mirror and winced seeing the raw skin, some of them had reopened when she pulled her shirt off and were bleeding again.

She groaned quietly, tears once again welling up in her eyes as she glanced at the reflection of her back. It was an awful sight; a grotesque testament of the previous night's horror. Her once flawless skin now marred with angry, red welts and tender cuts from the belt whipping. She felt sick looking at it.

But Ocean was resilient, more than she gave herself credit for. The sight of her battered reflection only steeled her resolve. Pain was not foreign to her - she’d grown up in it, lived with it, knew it like an old friend. Picking up a wet cloth, she carefully cleaned the wounds on her back.

After cleaning the wounds the best she could Ocean picked up a roll of bandages and started to wrap them the best she could around her back, once she finished she went back to her room and began to get ready for school.

It only took her ten minutes to get fully ready and walk out of the house, glaring at the unconscious bodies of her parents knowing they’d repeat the previous night again. Except she wouldn’t be home because the choir was staying at Constance’s house for the long weekend, Ocean was happy to be away from her parents but she was also worried about how she’d hide her injuries from her friends.

The day passed in a blur of pain and exhaustion for her, the next thing she knew she was at Constance’s house with the choir laughing at some joke that Noel had said. She enjoyed hanging out with the choir and was happy that they had all grown closer after their near death experience on the Cyclone Roller-coaster, but being close to them all would make hiding her wounds a lot harder.

The last thing she needed was for them to notice, because then they’d be concerned and demanding to know what happened and it would be a whole thing.

Luckily for Ocean, the large sweater she’d decided to wear helped to conceal the bandages around her torso and the others were so engaged in their own conversations that they didn't notice her wince when she moved just slightly wrong.

She forced herself to laugh and participate in the friendly banter, but every now and then, when a wave of pain would sweep over her, she'd become quiet. The laughter and cheer around her felt too distant, like it was echoing from another world where parents loved their children.

She managed to keep up her facade through dinner. When Constance’s mom, a warm woman with a radiant smile, asked why she wasn’t eating all the attention turned to her. It wasn’t uncommon for Ocean to not eat, but the choir could almost immediately tell something more was wrong because Ocean’s smile looked strained and there were hints of pain on her face.

Constance frowned and moved to rub Ocean’s back concerned about her best friend (and crush but that wasn’t important), but Ocean flinched letting out a small yelp of pain immediately concerning everyone ten times more.

“Ocean what’s wrong?” Constance asked eyes wide with worry and pulling her hand away like she had been burned.

Ocean looked at her friend, her azure eyes clouded with a multitude of emotions - shame, fear, pain. The room was deathly silent now, all eyes on her. She shrunk back under their collective gaze, feeling like an animal caught in a trap. Her bandaged wounds throbbed as if matching the rhythm of her rabbit-fast heartbeat.

"I'm fine, Connie. Just a bit of a stomach ache," Ocean lied quickly, trying to wave it off with a casual shrug that hurt more than she let on. She offered a small, reassuring smile, even though she knew it didn't quite reach her eyes.

Constance didn't look convinced, her brows furrowing in concern, but she didn't press further. The dinner continued with an underlying tension, everyone throwing wary glances at Ocean, who remained uncharacteristically quiet. Each time someone laughed or joked too loudly, she flinched slightly.

Once dinner was over and the choir began to prepare for bed, Ocean excused herself and made her way to the bathroom to change her bandages. But she had forgotten to lock the door behind her in her hurry to get her shirt and sweater off because she could feel one or two of the wounds bleeding and she didn’t want to get blood on her clothes.

Ocean winced seeing the swollen and red mess that was her back, she sighed and pulled out a worn and blood-stained rag she had brought with her and began to wash the fresh blood off of her back. She was so focused on the task that she didn’t hear the footsteps coming down the hall or hear the doorknob turning or the door opening.

But what she did hear was the shocked gasp, she turned around eyes wide with horror and shock and immediately rushed to cover her bruised and cut up back.

Noel stood there eyes wide, he had always known that Ocean’s home life was horrible but he never knew that they beat her. “Ocean…?” He said staring at her in shock and concern.

Ocean stared at him shaking and not knowing what to do or how to respond, everything inside of her just wanted to run and hide away from this. But she couldn’t, the tear came fast and hot running down her cheeks before she even knew what was happening.

Noel froze, the image before him too much to process. Ocean, their Ocean, always so lively and joyful, stood before him, a broken bird with clipped wings. He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat and stepped toward her.

"Noel...I..." Ocean began, but she choked on the words. Desperate shame colored her face even as tears streamed down her cheeks. She turned away from him, revealing the full extent of her injuries. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of it.

"Ocean…why didn't you tell us?" Noel asked, his voice barely above a whisper. The silence stretched between them, punctuated by the faint music coming from Constance’s room.

"Noel, I couldn’t, there wasn’t any reason to say anything." Ocean's voice was shaky as she tried to keep herself together, “It’s really not that bad!” She insisted her voice breaking slightly as she lied.

She was always a horrible liar.

“You could’ve Ocean!” Noel said his voice unintentionally harsh, “We could’ve helped you!” He said worried and heartbroken that the girl that he saw as a sister believed that she couldn’t come to him or their friends when she was being hurt.

If she had hidden this, what else had she hidden from them?

But as he gazed at her, the harshness in his tone softened. Noel realized that now was not the time for accusations. “Ocean…” he began again, straining to keep his voice steady and reassuring, “We’re not going to let you go through this alone, okay? We can figure this out…together.”

Ocean didn't respond for a moment, her trembling hands still clutching at the hem of her shirt. Then she took a shaky breath and released it in a whisper of a sigh.

"Noel, you don't understand," Ocean pleaded, turning to face him with teary eyes. "I didn't want you all to worry about me." Her voice came out in a desperate whisper, as if the words themselves were too heavy for her.

"No, Ocean. You're wrong," Noel retorted, shaking his head with a stern expression on his face. "We're your friends. We should've known. We could've done something."

Ocean stared at him in silence, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to form coherent sentences. She felt a wave of nausea sweep through her and she stumbled back against the sink edge, clutching it tightly to keep her body standing.

Noel rushed over worried about her, “Ocean this isn’t okay! You’re parents are abusing you!” He said looking at the smaller girl. “We’re your friends and your family Ocean, we care about you.” He said softly and pulled her into a gentle hug making sure not to press on her wounds.

Ocean broke down sobbing into his chest her hands clutching onto the back of his shirt, everything that she had been holding inside just came rushing out in the form of heartbreaking sobs.

"Noel, I...I'm so scared," she sobbed into his chest, her entire body shaking with the magnitude of her emotions. She had been carrying this burden alone for so long that sharing it now felt like splitting herself open.

"Shhh, it's okay. I've got you," Noel soothed, wrapping his arms around her even tighter. His heart felt like it was shattering in his chest as he cradled Ocean in his arms, but a part of him knew that this was only the beginning of a long and hard journey.

"I don't…I don't know what to do," Ocean confessed through sobs, “I don’t know what to do!” She repeated.

Noel held her tight, fighting back his own tears. He reached up one hand to stroke her hair tenderly, whispering soothing words to her.

"It's going to be okay, Ocean," he promised, his voice filled with resolve. "I won't let them hurt you any more."

His words seemed to bring a new wave of tears from Ocean. She buried her face deeper into his chest, almost as if she was trying to burrow into him for safety. Noel felt his heart break a little more at that.

After what felt like an eternity, Ocean's sobs quieted down, the tears having drained the last of her energy. She pulled away and winced her back aching, she reached for the bandages she had brought and turned back to the mirror so she could wrap the bandages around her wounds.

Noel watched her wrap the bandages around her body, she did this easily, too easily for it to be the first or second time. “Let us help you Ocean.” He said softly.

"I…I don't know how," she admitted weakly, glancing back at him through the mirror. The reflection of their eyes meeting was almost too much for Noel to bear.

"We can start by getting you to a doctor." His words were firm, more of a statement than a suggestion. "And then, we need to report this."

“No!” Ocean said immediately her eyes wide as she finished tying off the bandages and whirling around, “No doctor, no reporting anything.” She said looking at him.

“Fine fine.” He said not wanting to argue with her and cause her to close herself off again. “At least tell the others and if you get hurt let my mom help you at least, you know she’s a nurse.” He said.

Ocean just nodded and leaned on him, exhausted out of her mind.

Later that night Noel helped Ocean tell the others, there were tears and cursing towards her parents. But by the end of the night they were all watching a movie and laughing happily.

Chapter 4: Cause They See Right Through Me

Summary:

NOEL HELPING MISCHA THROUGH A BAD PANIC ATTACK PLEASE 🙏🙏🙏🔥🔥🔥
-rapslutaddict(guest)

Notes:

Warning
-Panic attack

Mischa sat in a storage closet shaking, one of his hands was clutching his shirt over his heart while his other raked through his hair. He felt like he couldn’t breathe and like his heart was trying to rip out of his chest, he doesn’t know why he felt like this or what caused it. All he knew was that he had been at a choir competition a few cities over with the others, they had run into another choir from another school. He doesn’t know why but the group were immediately hostile towards them and an argument broke out.

There was a lot of yelling and it soon escalated to pushing, he had already been a bad day because his adoptive parents were being particularly rude to him that day and hadn’t given him breakfast like they normally did. But to make the day even worse, it was the anniversary of when his mother had sent him away to Canada and to his adoptive parents hoping.

So to say the day was pretty shitty already and the long drive to the competition was exhausting and he was in a bad mood the whole seven hour drive, they had left at six am and had gotten there at one.

He doesn’t know why the arguing and the shoving triggered this…whatever this was but it did. Next thing Mischa knew was that he was curled up in a closet hyperventilating and shaking while hot tears ran down his cheeks. He knew the others would be worried about him and were likely looking for him, but even that thought could get him to move. Mischa let out a choked sob his breathing becoming even more ragged as he sat there clutching his chest tightly, this had happened multiple times before in the basement he called a room and he didn’t know what to do other than let it happen.

But he felt like he couldn’t breathe and he wanted it to stop.

Mischa dug his knuckles into the dusty carpet, his teeth gritted in a silent plea for the invisible iron chains wrapped around his chest to loosen. His eyes blinked against the single sliver of light that peeked from beneath the closet door. It was mocking him, its shine too bright, too clear for his foggy mind.

He jerked violently when a soft knock echoed through the cramped space. He pressed his back further against the wall as if he could somehow melt into it and disappear completely.

“Mischa are you in there?” Someone said from outside the door, it was Noel his closest friend in the choir and crush.

Mischa was silent hoping he’d leave, he didn’t want someone as awesome as Noel to see him being so weak. But he shook sobbing and gasping the knot in his chest only tightening further, the door opened blinding Mischa for a moment and he tried to shrink against the wall further.

"Shit, Mischa," Noel's voice echoed in the small space. The light bulb swung back and forth as the door was gently closed. "Are you okay?"

Mischa didn't respond, only let his sobs fill the silence between them. He felt a warm hand on his shoulder, a touch so gentle it was almost nonexistent, and yet Mischa flinched.

"I-I can't…I can't…" Mischa stammered out between sobs. His body was shaking uncontrollably now, the fear threatening to swallow him whole.

Noel stepped closer and sat down in front of him concerned “Mischa breathe, copy my breathing.” He said taking deep and steady breaths trying to get Mischa to copy them. Mischa after a while began to copy them and he felt the knot in his chest loosening until it was completely gone.

Mischa slumped forward exhausted and leaned on Noel’s shoulder his body shaking with uncontained sobs, Noel tensed up momentarily but relaxed and pulled him into a tight hug.

“What’s wrong Misch?” Noel asked softly rubbing his back.

"Nothing," Mischa gasped out, trying to steady his voice. "It's nothing, I'm okay now."

"No, you're not," Noel argued softly. His voice was something gentle among the harsh reality that Mischa had been swept into. "This isn't the first time this has happened, is it?"

Mischa hesitated before shaking his head weakly looking ashamed of this, even though it was nothing to be ashamed of. “No…”

“What caused it if that’s okay to ask?” Noel said softly looking at the other boy, his heart was pounding since he was so close to his crush, but he pushed that away to full focus on him again.

“Today’s just been bad day.” Mischa said looking at Noel, “Anniversary of my мама sending me away to this Canada.” He said frowning slightly and holding back another wave of tears stubbornly refusing to let them fall.

Noel stayed silent, taking in every word. He knew that Mischa had been adopted from another country, but he can't remember him ever opening up about his past before. "I'm sorry, Misch," was all Noel could say, his voice barely above a whisper. "Is there anything I can do?"

Mischa swiped at his eyes, shaking his head. "No, you've done enough," he said softly.

"No, Mischa, I would do anything to help you," Noel insisted, his tone serious and sincere.

Mischa laughed weakly at that, his eyes somewhat hollow as he stared off into space. "You're sweet,

поет," he murmured, although there was no real happiness in his voice. "But it's not your responsibility to fix me.”

“I’m not trying to fix you, I’m trying to help you.” Noel said flushing at the nickname Mischa called him.

“Я люблю тебе поете.” Mischa said knowing that Noel wouldn’t understand, Mischa didn’t know why he did it but he looked at Noel and suddenly an irresistible urge to kiss Noel came over him.

He surged forward and cupped Noel’s face and kissed him gently but it was full of love, fear, and hope that Noel liked him back. Noel was tense for a second but quickly relaxed into the kiss and kissed him back moving his hands to cup Mischa’s face too.

When they pulled apart, Mischa's eyes flickered to Noel’s, uncertainty clouding his expression. He expected rejection, shuttered eyes turning away from him in disgust. Instead, he was met by Noel's soft smile and a gaze that held nothing but warmth.

“Mischa…” Noel began, his voice barely above a whisper. The intimacy between them was still electrifying that it made his senses heightened, heartbeat drumming against his ribcage. Mischa waited with bated breath for the words that would follow.

“Sorry…” he whispered, unsure of how Noel would react.

"No need to apologize," Noel responded, his voice barely audible in the small closet. His thumbs brushed along Mischa's cheeks, wiping away any traces of tears that remained. "I…I liked it."

Mischa felt his heart jump at Noel's words and despite the emotional turmoil he had just experienced, a faint smile tugged at his lips. "Really?" He asked, his tone full of hope.

Noel nodded suddenly shy, his face flushed a bright red. Mischa smiled widely and pulled Noel into another kiss, Noel kiss back and Mischa felt like maybe the day wasn’t so horrible after all.

Notes:

Translations
-Я люблю тебе поете - I love you Poet
-поете- Poet

Chapter 5: Are they Ever Coming Home?

Summary:

The aftermath of the Cyclone Accident.

Notes:

Warnings for
-Descriptions of blood and injuries
-Descriptions of death

The fairgrounds were chaos, people were screaming and running, others were on the phone with the authorities yelling for ambulances, and others were just staring blankly at the smoking wreckage in front of them in shock. The cart had derailed and crashed into the ground with six kids in it, people who had been in line had started to scream drawing more attention to the horrific accident.

Some bystanders had rushed over to the wreckage to try to find if there were any survivors or if anyone could be saved, some of the kids had been thrown from the cart on the way down and laid in the grass still and bleeding. One of the bystanders had screamed in horror when she rushed to one of the bodies that had been thrown from the cart only to find a headless body clutching a headless doll, blood soaked the body’s clothes and the grass around where its head should’ve been.

Some other bystanders had rushed to the cart and attempted to get a response from the remaining four kids who were still trapped in the cart. One of them in the front was slumped in the overturned cart her face and ginger hair were drenched in blood and her body was just mangled from the crash; the front of the cart was crushed as if it was an empty soda can. One bystander felt for the girl’s pulse and found one, but it was so weak that it could hardly be called a pulse, and it quickly disappeared.

There was a second body that had been thrown from the cart and she just lay there, her forehead was dented in and glass from shattered glasses were stuck in her bloodied face, her legs were torn from being wrenched from the cart during the crash, a shard of metal was lodged partially in her throat and in her chest. She had died the moment she hit the ground and landed on the metal shard, piercing through her heart and trachea.

Two boys that had been in the middle cart were limp having clung to each other during the crash, one body had a cracked phone that lay on the grass next to the cart splattered with blood he was limp over the side of the cart with the metal safety bar piercing through his chest, his body was battered and mangled and he never had a chance to survive these injuries.

The second body was slumped over his eyes open and darting around panicked and full of pain, he seemed to be trying to talk but he only choked on the blood filling his lungs slowly. His side was ripped open and broken pieces of metal were stuck in his chest and small bits in his face, he survived and was desperately choking and painfully coughing up blood, but he managed to force out his name when a bystander asked him for it while she was on the phone with emergency responders. “N…oel” He managed to choke out while she tried to staunch the bleeding.

The last kid in the cart was slumped over, his head at an unnatural angle. He had died quickly compared to many of the others. The force having snapped his neck when the cart hit the ground.

Amidst the loamy smell of the fairground grass mixed with the acrid odor of smoke and destruction, the collective sobs of the onlookers formed an eerie symphony of despair. The laughter and cheers that had just moments ago filled the air were replaced by the gut-wrenching cries of horror and disbelief. Cotton candy was trampled underfoot as people scrambled in disarray, like panicked ants whose hill had just been crushed.

The casualties made the fairgrounds look like a bloody battlefield. Adults wept openly and many children couldn't comprehend what they were seeing, their cotton candy, popcorn, and games forgotten in the face of this nightmarish scenario.

The bystanders who were brave enough to help organized themselves into a makeshift rescue team, desperately trying to minimize the horror as best they could. One man used his own shirt to staunch Noel’s bleeding while another woman, a nurse by profession, was doing chest compressions on the little ginger-haired girl, despite knowing deep down that there was very little hope for survival.

The response arrived within minutes, which felt like an eternity under the circumstances. Ambulances pulled up and paramedics rushed to the scene with stretchers to gather both the dead and those alive or could possibly be alive. Kids were gathered and covered in white bags, while Noel and the little ginger girl were loaded into ambulances.

Paramedics kept doing chest compressions on the ginger girl hoping to bring back her pulse, her legs would be beyond saving if she lived. But despite their best efforts, they were unable to get her pulse back and she was pronounced dead at the hospital. Her injuries were just too severe for her to survive them.

Noel survived until he got to the hospital and into a room, his mother just happened to work there and when she saw her son being wheeled into the hospital she screamed and ran to him. Noel lived just long enough to see his mother a final time before he flatlined and despite the doctor’s best efforts, they were unable to get him back.

●Hours Later●

The hospital morgue was filled with the sound of pained sobbing, the bodies lay covered by white sheets. Parents were in the room desperately hoping it wasn’t their child under the sheets, but they all knew their kids had been lost. Sarah, Noel’s mother, had been the one to make the calls to the other parents, it was the hardest thing she had ever had to do.

She had known almost all of these kids, she had watched Constance, Ocean, and Ricky all grow up having been friends with Noel from preschool on. She had considered them her own kids at times, and now here she stood in the hospital morgue looking at the six sheet-covered bodies, some of her closest friends sobbing next to her as the mortician prepared them for what they were going to see as they identified their kids.

Sarah watched Constance’s mother break down wailing as the mortician pulled back the first sheet exposing Constance’s battered and still face, the glass had been removed and it looked like he was just sleeping. But they all knew better, this was a sleep she wouldn’t wake up from.

“My baby…” Constance’s mother, Kara, sobbed her voice breaking, “My baby!” She shrieked reaching desperately for her only daughter silently pleading for her to wake up.

John held Kara close his own tears falling as he looked at Constance, his daughter, his little girl. He didn’t know how they’d explain this to her little brother, how they’d explain that his big sister wasn’t coming home from the Fair. All he could hope was that she had passed quickly and that she wasn’t scared and in pain.

Iris and Emily Potts were next breaking down as they saw the still body of Ricky, their only child. He was so pale, and they both clung to each other sobbing and clutching the bracelet he had been wearing, he had made matching bracelets for all of them just days before the fair. The Mortician had promised them that he was gone before he could feel any pain before he could fully realize that he was dying.

Ocean’s parents hadn’t shown up to identify her, Sarah had done it staring down at the broken face of the girl that she considered a daughter. She sobbed harder stroking her ginger hair that was even redder and crusted with her own blood, she had been told that she had been alive at the scene but died before ambulances got there. Sarah was scared that she had died scared and in pain with no one there to comfort her and tell her it was okay as she passed.

She knew Noel had been in pain, she had seen him be rushed into the hospital, she had held his hand sobbing as she begged him to stay with her, she had held his hand as he stared at her with wide pain-filled, terrified eyes until they dulled.

Mischa’s adoptive parents had shown up, but they all knew it was just an act they put on as she stared down at his body and identified him. They had left soon after without another word, but they had been saddened having grown the slightest bit attached to their adoptive son, but not close enough to be deeply affected.

And the Jane Doe, no one had come forward to even try to identify her. She had no head, and they didn’t have a way to identify her, this saddened everyone. This was a child not much older than the others, who died alone and now was unknown without even so much as a name to remember her by. Just a bloodied and headless doll that had been found with her.

The hospital halls echoed with sorrowful keening, whispers of mourning, and the occasional overwrought scream of pain. Sarah felt the weight of grief heavy on her shoulders, a crushing burden that bowed her head. Each tear shed seemed an insufficient testament to the magnitude of the sorrow they all felt. She wished for numbness—for oblivion—but each passing moment only sharpened the sting of loss.

●The Next Day●

The whole town was in mourning. Flowers, teddy bears, and handwritten cards piled up near the site of the accident, each one a small acknowledgment of the lives brutally torn away too soon. The local church bells rang six times throughout the day to honor what the town had named “Uranium’s Six Saints”.

The town’s funeral home was hit with the requests for six coffins, small and pitifully delicate. The first funerals were held under the steely grey sky of a cold Thursday morning. Sarah attended them all. Sad-faced and quietly laying flowers at each grave, the choir was all buried next to each other and the sight of the same death day was almost too much to bear for all of the parents.

They had all been buried with a small blanket and their favorite stuffed animals at Constance’s little brother crying that they’d be scared and cold without them, he didn’t know that they didn’t feel cold, and they wouldn’t ever again. But they were buried covered with a small blanket and a stuffed animal so they wouldn’t be cold or alone in the dark ground.

None of them had known that when they signed that permission slip, that they were signing their child’s death warrant. That when they wished their kids good luck at the choir competition and told them that they loved them that would be the last time that they’d hear their voices.

Their six saints had left alive and never came home, they had come home cold and quiet and now made a home in the ground alone once again.

Their Little Saints were never coming home.

Notes:

I almost cried writing this, blame the song "Army Dreamers" and TikTok, not me.

Leave some comments! I love hearing your thoughts and opinions!

Byeeeee!

Chapter 6: Don't Touch Me, Please

Summary:

Ocean flees her house late at night and ends up at Constance's house.

Notes:

Warning for
- Referenced Child abuse
- Autistic melt down
-Harmful stimming

Luzzielvslesbcephalop0ds: heyheyheyyy !! if u are confortable with it, could u write something about autistic ocean feeling overwhelmed or something and constance helps her through it,, maybe ocean struggling on expresing what she's feeling and some communication/trust issues along the way because nobody's perfect

u can change the trope if u want btw,, but autistic ocean is consuming my soul 🙌🙌

Ocean ran through the dark streets shaking and letting out gasping breaths, snow poured down around her covering the already white ground. Ocean didn’t even notice how the cold stinging her exposed arms, she was dressed in a ragged t-shirt and a pair of leggings that had holes in the legs, her shoes were soaked through by the snow making her even more cold. But she could hardly feel the numbing cold over the absolute terror the pumped through her, she just kept moving clutching her cracked phone in her hand having already texted Constance a warning that she was coming over because she couldn’t be at home, despite the late hour.

She was covered in bruising that she couldn’t tell if they were new or old, and the smell of weed clung sharply to her clothes like it always did. The only reason ocean was out here past midnight running to Constance’s house like her life depended on it was because her house simply wasn’t safe at the moment, she had gotten into an explosive argument with her mother and father after begging them to turn their music down because she felt like her head was going to explode.

Honestly, she should have known better than to go downstairs and try to talk to her parents when they were high, they were always paranoid or overly ‘loving’ when high. She would’ve rather taken the overly ‘loving’ highness over the paranoid one because at least then they were somewhat easy to talk to, but of course luck was never on her side and to make it worse her parents were really paranoid. So long story short, they thought she was an invader and attacked her, but she managed to get away with only bruising.

Staggering, Ocean finally reached the welcoming doorstep of Constance's house. Her previously focused mind swarmed with thoughts of relief and anticipation. Constance was always there for her, the beacon of hope in her stormy life.

The dim light from the porch lamp barely revealed the worried face of Constance peeking through the window, her dark hair tied back in her typical, casual way. She swiftly opened the door, her eyes widening as they took in Ocean's disheveled state. Constance, who was always composed and gentle, lost her cool seeing her girlfriend in such a dire condition.

She reached for Ocean’s arm but Ocean flinched away shaking her head rapidly, “No!” She said, her voice shaking , “Don’t touch me,” Ocean croaked.

Everything that she had been numb to the whole walk from her house to here came crashing back, she felt the cold and the stinging pain from her bruises, she felt the tears on her cheeks and the feeling of pins and needles dancing all over her skin. She began rocking on her heels her breath speeding up, Ocean clenched her eyes closed not even noticing when Constance began to lead her into the house and to the couch.

Ocean didn’t even notice when she started to pull at her hair and hit her head with her fists, she just knew she was overwhelmed and it felt like her skin was crawling and her bruises were pulsing with every rabid beat of her heart. Ocean let out a choked sob hitting her head even harder trying to stop this feeling that seemed to be enveloping her whole body.

Constance threw her arms around Ocean, holding her in a firm yet careful embrace. Ocean froze; the comforting sensation of her girlfriend's arms around her acting as a counterpoise to the torrents swirling within her. She could smell the faint scent of lavender in Constance's hair, a stark contrast to the harsh smell of weed that clung to her own clothes.

Trembling, she reached for the other girl’s wrists, trying to pull her hands away from her hair with gentle firmness.

"Ocean," she whispered, voice strained. "Ocean, stop, you're hurting yourself…" She could feel the tension coiling in Ocean's body despite her efforts. She was trying to be gentle knowing how to help Ocean when she was like this, it took time but eventually Ocean would calm down and Constance would try to get her to talk about what happened.

It took nearly thirty minutes but eventually Ocean calmed down and leaned on Constance letting out shaky breaths and holding onto her shirt trying to calm down more, Constance was patient letting Ocean take her time to calm down.

“Oce, what happened?” Constance asked softly moving back to cup Ocean’s face, worry written across her own.

Ocean stayed silent, she wanted to answer but she was struggling to express what she wanted to. The words seemed stuck in her throat and she could hardly make sense of what she wanted to even say, she had always struggled to express herself and what she was thinking when it came to her emotions and when she got overwhelmed.

Constance understood. She always did. And so, she simply held her in silence, her thumb brushing gently against the bruises on Ocean's face. A quiet understanding passed between them, a subtle communication that words couldn't convey and words didn't need to invade.

It was well into the night when Ocean finally fell asleep. Her breaths had evened out and the shaking had ceased, replaced with the soft whistling sounds of her slumber. Constance stayed awake, listening to the rhythm of her girlfriend's breathing, feeling her chest rise and fall against her own. It was a symphony of life amidst the chaos that had unfolded earlier.

But eventually Constance followed Ocean into sleep holding her close, Ocean would be okay and the next day Constance would have them baking to take her mind off of whatever happened.

It would all be truly okay.

Chapter 7: I Don't Want to be Here

Summary:

Ocean is going through some things and Ricky helps her, surviving a freak accident is rough.

Notes:

headlinemaker: Can you write a (post-cyclone) ocean x ricky? some hurt/comfort

Warnings!
-Self Harm by burning
-Not wanting to live
-Self hatred

Ocean laid flat on her back in the small house her and Ricky lived in after the accident and after they had graduated, they had survived but at a hefty cost. Ricky was now permanently in a wheelchair and had an even harder time because of damage the accident caused, but the doctors had said he was lucky because the back cart where he had been had sustained the least amount of damage when the carts derailed and hit the ground. Ocean had been in the front along with Constance and her right leg had been amputated, and now she had a prosthetic leg and struggled with horrible pain in her legs and spine.

They both had various scars from wounds caused in the accident and scars from surgeries that had been done after the accident, they doctors had called them all lucky and that them surviving this horrible accident especially with all of the injuries that the group had sustained, they theoretically shouldn’t have survived and yet they did.

But none of them considered themselves ‘lucky’, all of them lived with varying degrees of pain and injuries on a daily basis. Mischa had gotten his leg amputated and his right shoulder had been heavily injured and now he struggled with pain in his shoulder, Noel had gotten his side ripped open by metal and the safety bar had impaled his chest and now he had problems with his lungs and struggled to breathe often because a portion of his lung had been removed due to the damages the safety bar had caused.

Constance had lost some fingers and had gone half blind because glass from her glasses had gotten into one of her eyes can caused damage, while she didn’t had a leg amputated she did struggle with her legs being weak and struggling to hold her weight due to major nerve damage from the front of the cart crushing inwards. Penny had to go through speech therapy to talk because of damage to her throat when she was nearly decapitated by metal from the cart derailing flew backwards, Ricky had managed to save her but the metal had slit into her throat and caused damage to her voice box she had also fractured some bones in her neck and now she was able to speak, but some days she couldn’t because of pain in her throat.

But they were all considered ‘lucky’. What a joke.

Ocean didn’t feel fucking lucky, she hurt almost constantly, she struggled to walk some days because of the pain, she hated how she looked because of the scars, she hated everything about herself. She couldn’t fucking sleep without jerking awake from nightmares of the accident almost every night, she had dreams of the accident and weird dreams of a warehouse and some fortune teller machine.

Ricky, too, felt a sense of resentment towards the word 'lucky'. He found no solace in the word ‘lucky’, when life as he knew it had turned upside down. He had to live with the memories of this accident, while he was happy to be alive, it was hard to feel ‘lucky’ when being confined to a wheelchair because of damages to his already weak bones and forced to live through the memories of the accident and pain.

Ocean sat up shaking and holding back tears as another wave of pain overcame her, she forced herself to her feet and limped towards the porch where she sat down on one of the flowery chairs they put out there. She knew this habit she had developed was horrible and not healthy, but she knew she couldn’t deny the relief and calmness it brought.

She grabbed her small purse and pulled out a cigarette, she hesitated before lighting it and taking a deep pull from it letting the smoke fill her lungs before blowing it out. Ocean wouldn’t have believed anyone if they told her that she’d be smoking in the future, but now she didn’t want to live anymore so she just didn't care anymore.

From where he was in the living room, Ricky could hear the quiet shuffle of Ocean’s footsteps and he knew she was heading out to the porch. He figured she would need her space — she always did after one of her episodes — so he decided to give it to her. But he couldn't ignore the clench in his heart at the sound of her pain; it mattered little that they shared matching scars. His sciatica gave a fresh surge of discomfort, like a dagger shooting through his spine, but he held his wince and maneuvered his wheelchair towards their tiny kitchen.

Ocean just kept smoking uncaring of anything, she didn’t know how long she was out there for. But once her cigarette was about down she sighed and pressed the lit end onto her pale, scarred wrist that had similar small circle marks all over her arm. She winced but kept it pressed there letting the calm that came from the burning wash over her, after a bit she pulled it away and flicked the cigarette into the ashtray and stood wincing before limping back into the house pulling her sleeve down.

She smelled food cooking and smiled slightly knowing that Ricky was cooking, she loved his cooking and she knew he enjoyed it because it gave him something to do to take his mind off of what happened. Ocean limped her way over to the kitchen and leaned on the counter with a small smile.

“What are you cooking this time?” She asked softly, adjusting the way she leaned against the counter.

Ricky looked over and smiled seeing her, ‘Pork, rice, and green beans’ He signed, he knew she smoked and while he didn’t like it, he wasn’t going to tell her how to cope.

Ocean nodded, “Sounds good,” She said and leaned forward kissing him gently, before pulling away and walking away to the bedroom. She hoped she could catch a quick nap before dinner, and if not she had ways of going to sleep.

Ricky watched Ocean's retreating back, signs of fatigue evident in her shuffling pace. He wished again, with an intensity that layered over his previous thoughts like the crosshatching technique he used to use in his sketches before... before, that he could do more for her, for all of them. He sighed and turned back to the stove. The sizzling pork chops offered no solutions, but the familiar actions grounded him.

Meanwhile, Ocean made her way towards their room. Her body ached and begged for rest, but her mind was far from calm. As she sat down on the bed, her hand hesitating over the drawer of her bedside table. Within lay another one of her guilty secrets - a bottle of sleeping pills. More effective than the cigarettes but equally destructive, she knew they were a crutch that she couldn't afford to lean on too much, not with her addictive genes.

But they did help her sleep, so she continued taking them. She grabbed one pill and swallowed it before curling up, under the blankets waiting for it to take effect. She felt the familiar pain and emotional hurt flow through her like waves.

God, she hated herself so much.

It took a while but finally she fell asleep lying there in a dreamless sleep, she wouldn't sleep for long but she’d enjoy what sleep she had.

Ricky yawned as he finished cooking and served the food, putting the plates on the small table they had in the house. Then he went to wake Ocean up, he rolled into their bedroom smiling at the sight of her sleeping. He didn’t want to wake her up because she didn’t sleep enough at all, but she needed to eat.

His hand reached over to gently shake Ocean's shoulder, a pang of regret throbbing in his chest as he watched her stir from her slumber.

'Supper's ready,' Ricky signed when her sleepy eyes fluttered open, his worn face finding solace in the softness that adorned hers every time she woke up.

Ocean groaned, her blurry gaze meeting Ricky's gentle stare for a moment before closing her eyes again. She knew she should get up to eat, knew it would make Ricky happy. But She couldn’t bring herself to actually eat.

But she didn’t want to let Ricky down, so with a sigh she pushed herself up and turned to get out of bed reaching for the cane that she had for when the pain was too much for her to walk normally. She smiled at Ricky and followed him out to the dinning room to eat, she sat down and started to pick at her food.

Ricky watched her, the worry lines deepening on his forehead. He knew she'd been losing weight for weeks, the vibrant life force in her dwindling with every passing day even as she painted on a brave facade. Despite himself, he found his gaze flicking back to the barely nibbled pieces of pork and untouched green beans on her plate.

Deciding to strike a jovial note, he signed, ‘You're eating your dinner like you've turned into a bird, Ocean.’ A quirked eyebrow accompanied the comment; he hoped that it would elicit one of her rare smiles.

Ocean, despite her mood, let out a small snicker, a smile blooming across her face, “I’m no bird, Ricky.” She said looking at him amused. He always had a way of making her smile, even when she was in the worst of moods.

‘You sure? The way your picking at your food says otherwise,’ Ricky signed smiling at her. He knew things were a struggle right now, but he also could tell that Ocean was getting better than she been right after the accident.

They ate dinner talking and joking with a lightness that had been absent for a while, the tension lingered and weighed on them but they ignored it for now.

After the meal, they remained at the small table for a long while, trading casual signs and cherished glances. Ricky, overwhelmed by his appreciation of Ocean even after all these years, reached across the table to take her hand. Her skin felt cold under his, making him worry despite the warm smiles she offered.

‘As long as you are here, I am okay.’ he signed to her, punctuating each word with an intensity that made Ocean pause. She knew what he meant. She understood the underlying fear in his eyes - that one day she wouldn't be there anymore, not because of herself but her battle with the addiction which seemed never ending.

Ricky moved his hand up her arm gently pulling back her sleeves and looking at the round burns that littered her arm with a sad look, Ocean flinched slightly but didn’t pull away. She looked everywhere but at Ricky, shame burning hot in her gut.

Ricky tapped her arm watching as she looked over before pulling his hand back so he could sign, ‘You don’t need to do that, but I’m not going to tell you to stop because I know that won’t work,’ He signed looking at her sadly. ‘But please understand that you’re not alone, talk to me, talk to the others, talk to a therapist. It doesn’t matter, just talk to someone, please.’ He finished putting his hands down.

“It’s not that easy Ricky, I wish it was.” Ocean said softly, ignoring the tears burning in her eyes. “I hate myself, I hate everything about how I look, It hurts to walk,” She said her voice becoming choked.

‘Ocean…’ Ricky began to sign, his hands freezing in midair. But what could he say that wouldn't sound cliche or pointless? 'It'll get better' felt so hollow when he saw the despair in Ocean's eyes.

Finally, he reached out to touch her face gently, hoping his hands could convey the depth of his empathy that words failed to express. Her tears softened under his touch, letting loose a dam of emotions she'd been bottling up in a desperate attempt to keep up appearances.

Ricky couldn't bear the look on her face any longer. He maneuvered his wheelchair around the table and moved himself next to her. He gently took Ocean by the arm and pulled her into a tight hug feeling her start to fall apart her body shaking with sobs.

He knew she hated him seeing her this way, vulnerable and emotional, but he was glad she was letting out her feelings rather than keeping them bottled in. He just held her for a while rubbing her back gently. After a bit he pulled away making sure she was looking at him, his face serious.

Raising his hands, Ricky began to sign once again, ‘I know it’s hard Ocean, but your worth isn’t based on how you look or walk.’ His gaze was locked on hers, 'There’s strength in you. You're fighting battles that people around you can't understand. It's okay if things hurt. It's okay if you can't be okay all the time, it’s unrealistic to assume that.’

Ocean nodded slightly wiping her tears away from her blotchy face, “I’m tired,” She said and stood wincing before grabbing their plates and taking them to the sink where she left them, she’d do dishes in the morning. For now she just wanted to lay in bed with Ricky and sleep.

Ricky followed her into the bedroom and soon they were both in their pajamas and curled up together, Ricky ran his fingers through her ginger locks smiling softly as she started to nod off.

As she drifted into a light slumber, her body relaxed, a sensation Ricky cherished. He had been silently yearning to see her in such tranquility. Although the palpable weariness was lurking there, he admired the woman that was huddled beneath the warmth of their shared sheets - strong, resilient, and capable of facing anything life hurled at her.

Ricky looked over Ocean’s sleeping figure, his fingers tracing around the circumference of her hand placed reassuringly on his chest. Each finger felt cold and brittle under his touch, a stark reminder of battles fought. He allowed himself a silent sigh, listening to the gentle rhythm of their synchronized heartbeats letting that calm him.

Tomorrow was another day, and it would have its own battles. But for now, they found solace in each other's warmth, their whispered promises echoing in the dimly lit room. Ricky continued to stroke Ocean's hair as he watched her sleep. His hands moved rhythmically through her locks, each movement a silent vow that he would be there for her, regardless of the pain that the dawn might bring. He kissed the crown of her head gently and settled drifting off not long after.

Tomorrow was another day, and while their struggles wouldn't disappear over night, their weight lessened just slightly.

Chapter 8: The Prayer Left Unanswered

Summary:

The Cyclone accident and a heart breaking admission is given.

Notes:

Warning for
-Major character death
-The Cyclone Accident

Newphone_whodis: can you do a blackrose one where ocean dies
Idc how I just want my favorite girl to suffer a bit :> 🙏🫶

Metal screeched and sparks flew up into the air as the rollercoaster cart barreled towards the loop-de-loop, as the cart started to ascend upwards a horrible clattering and screeching sound burst from where the cart attached to the track. The front axle had broken.

Ocean noticed the problems first and, in a panic, started to scream grabbing onto Constance as the cart shook violently as it continued to ascend. Soon the others noticed something was horribly wrong, Noel screamed and both him and Mischa grabbed onto each other and onto the safety bar trying to stay in the cart. Ricky let out a silent scream, no sound escaping him other than a hiss of air, another girl that they couldn’t remember screeched in a horrid panic as her safety bar gave way and she flew out.

They hit the apex of the loop, and it was like time slowed. The cart derailed and as it started to plummet life flashed before their eyes, air whistled past them their screams mixing to create a haunting melody as the ground grew closer and closer and yet nothing, they did could stop this inevitable horror.

With a speed that defied their understanding, the world turned upside down. Above them, the once comforting cobalt expanse of the sky now turned into a yawning chasm, threatening to swallow them whole. Below, their vision filled with the twisted wreckage of metal and splintered wood, the remnants of their ride lying in a grotesque parody of its former glory. The tumultuous symphony of screams, screeching metal and rushing wind reached a crescendo that seemed to dominate all of existence.

An explosion of dust and debris erupted as the coaster crashed into ground, an awful wrenching sound heralding its final collapse. For a fraction of moment, the world held its breath, then silence. The once vibrant theme park was now a horrific nightmare stamped with chaos and devastation.

When at last the dust began to settle and the screams faded into echoing sobs, the true extent of the catastrophe lay bare in the stillness. Where mere moments ago the park had thrummed with daring laughter and playful challenge, it now wept under a shroud of desolation. The once merry carnival colors, now seemed garish in the face of tragedy.

The wreckage was a cataclysm of contorted steel, scattered like the skeletal remains of some gigantic prehistoric beast long perished. Twisted bodies of both rollercoaster and riders littered the crash scene, discarded remnants of lives snapped like brittle twigs underfoot—evidence of what happens when an operator neglects the ride they’re operating.

Constance let out a pained wheeze her eyes darting around as she laid on the grass next to the cart, everything hurt and she coughed nearly crying out from the pain it caused. Blood came up with each choked cough, she tried to move and managed to painfully push herself up into a sitting position that her body loudly protested.

She looked around for the other shaking hard, she saw Noel and Mischa laying on the ground together completely limp. Ricky was slumped over limp in his seat his neck bent at an unnatural angle, not far from the cart a headless girl laid on the grass.

Constance shook tears welling up in her eyes as she looked at her dead friends, she sobbed even though it hurt horribly. When suddenly a thought flashed into her mind.

Where was Ocean?

Her eyes scanned the horrific tableau, frantic for a sign of her friend. The cacophony had devolved into a deathly stillness that only served to amplify her fear. Among the wreckage, the once ostentatious colors of their attire were now mere smudges on canvas of carnage.

She crawled forward, shaking hands grabbing onto any debris that seemed stable enough to hold her weight. Each movement brought about fresh waves of pain, but her mind was locked onto one singular focus: where is Ocean?

In the eerie silence, a soft moan could be heard—weak but very much alive. Constance's heart leapt in her chest as she tried to locate the source of this feeble display of life. Nausea gnawed at her insides as she dragged herself through scattered remains of what once was a monument to joy.

Then her eyes found what they were longing for, if only in cruel mockery - Ocean's familiar, empty sneakers. They were sticking out from a mangled heap of twirled metal and splintered wood. Panic seized Constance as she started to crawl urgently toward the sneakers, each movement causing shooting pain to crackle through her body like errant strands of electricity.

"Ocean?" She croaked weakly, her voice barely a whisper carried away in the still breeze. But there was no answer, save for the same plaintive whimper she'd followed moments before. She slipped her trembling hand around Ocean's ankle and squeezed gently, desperately praying for a response.

And she got one in the form of a pained cry, “C…Con…?” Ocean gurgled out, Constance made her way to the side and saw Ocean laying there trapped under the side of the cart the safety bar sticking through her stomach and through her back.

“I’m here, Oce” Constance choked out feeling the adrenaline induced strength wavering, “I’m here,” She repeated tears in her eyes as Ocean laid there raggedly forcing air into her lungs in a desperate attempt to keep living.

“It fe-” Ocean was cut off by a horrid choking cough that brought more blood up staining her cheeks, “I…it feels li…like I can’t bre…athe! I-” She was cut off by more choking coughs coupled with distressing rattling in her chest. Blood came up with every pained cough and wheeze, Ocean was panicking and sobbing trying so hard just to breathe.

Constance tried to comfort Ocean, but how could she? She was trapped too, the protruding bar gleaming with her friend's blood, a physical reminder of the terror that had just unfolded. Ocean's eyes met her own, filled with fear and dawning understandings. Constance swallowed thickly, her throat bobbing against a lump of raw desperation.

"Oce," she whispered, squeezing her friend's hand, intricately interlocking fingers as if it were their very life lines. "It’s going to be okay. We're going to get you…help." Her voice wavered on that last word; even she struggled to believe it.

“D…Don’t leave me,” Ocean sobbed squeezing Constance’s hand weakly, the light in Ocean’s blue eyes was dying out slowly and they both knew that she was dying.

“I…I Lo…ve you…” Ocean wheezed out a final time before her eyes dimmed and her head lolled to the side her grip on Constance’s hand going slack. Her lungs gave a final death rattle before going still.

Constance let out a sob and collapsed her own vision starting to go dark, “Oce…” She sobbed squeezing her friend’s hand as a cold chill started to envelop her body.

“I love you too…”

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Complete Choir Randomness