Chapter Text
The world did not end when Chance felt the darkheart cut through his face, knocking their glasses off whilst slashing through both of their eyes. For his world, ITrapped was still there with him.
The action did make Chance scream in horror as an instantaneous reaction to the sudden pain and loss of senses. Reeling backwards, they fell into the freshly lain snow of the forest clutching onto their face. Chance’s chest heaved quickly in its up and down motion from the adrenaline pumping through their veins. He did not comprehend what was happening, but some part of himself, deep, deep down in his chest knew what was going on.
Not all vision was lost, as the core eyeballs were merely skimmed from the action. It was as though ITrapped knew exactly what he was doing, methodically torturing his “lover.” Chance, managing to pathetically scamper away from the man slowly found himself backed against a tree, vaguely glimpsing up at his beloved partner.
There ITrapped stood. His sword held with a white knuckle grip as he glared down at Chance. Face being covered as always, there was no chance of reading his expression to find a reaction to the thing he’s done. And so, that’s where the two robloxians found themselves, a silence so thick with tension it could be slashed open with the same sword ITrapped held.
Well, it wasn’t pure silence. Chance gargled and whimpered from the pain, gasps of air and cries of pain escaped him without even thinking. The actions eased him although he had no control over even making them.
The snow beneath them melted from the warmth protruding from his body, making his clothing not only wet from the blood seeping out of his face, but also now soaked from the cold. The cold that was killing them slowly. The cold that had always made them think of ITrapped.
Oh, their beloved ITrapped.
It’s quite surprising Chance never caught on to this inevitable doom hurdling towards them. From the moment that they had laid eyes on ITrapped he knew that he was bad news. But, realistically, what more could Chance ever love in a partner? They had finally found someone who was so unpredictable even they couldn’t assume what would happen next. And he loved it. That had to be the worst part.
Or maybe this was. The consequences of a bad choice always catch up, and here Chance was, dealing with them once again. As Chance glanced up towards ITrapped with their buried and bloodied vision, he couldn’t even find it in themself to ask why. Maybe they already knew the answer. Maybe they understood why these things had to happen. Maybe this is what Chance wanted all along. Despite this flurry of thoughts haunting Chance, they rather decided to ask ITrapped a better question:
“Was this real?”
ITrapped stopped in his strides towards Chance that had only momentarily begun. Chance went to chuckle at the moment in an ironic sort of way, but only ended up choking on the spit pooling in their mouth, adding to ITrapped’s agitated state.
In response to Chance’s seemingly idiotic actions, ITrapped took another step before lifting the sword above Chance’s chest before immediately piercing through it.
Chance yelled a loud, guttural yell. A scream that if heard by anyone would haunt their conscience for the rest of time, and yet ITrapped showed nothing. No fear, no enjoyment, no remorse . ITrapped simply knelt over Chance as the blood stained their suit and corrupted the pure, white, snow beneath them. Their body shivered as it twitched from the sharp pain of any movement. Chance could barely try and grasp the visceral wound without hissing and yelping through the quick pains that formed. There was no possible way of stopping the flow, and they both knew that.
The black shield over ITrapped’s face stayed in place, hiding his eyes, but they stared. Chance could feel it. They stared at the mess he’d so quickly created in both this moment and Chance’s life. ITrapped watched as the blood poured out of his supposed partner, feeling no sort of emotions in the action that he’d just done. You’d think after stabbing the person you’d kissed, held, and “cared” for you would feel any sort of extreme emotion. But he felt nothing.
As the freezing winds picked up, Chance caught the small glimpse of ITrapped’s blond hair waving in the breeze. The breeze made them shiver. He felt cold. Oh, so cold. Although the pain was initially unbearable, now he was simply going numb in the frigid environment. Only watching, praying for anything out of ITrapped. Only to slowly watch him rise from his position beside Chance and start to walk away.
He couldn’t just leave him here, could he? Chance felt as a singular flake of snow fell down from the leaves upon the tree he was collapsed under. They winced at the feeling hitting their face, the wince should’ve brought more pain, but at this stage Chance couldn’t exactly feel anything happening in his body other than things that grazed their skin or face, the lower half of their body falling motionless, paralyzed.
Chance in this moment, had come to terms with the fact that he was going to die. Never did it cross his mind that this would be the historical moment that they took their final breath, life ended by their lover, but if this was it so be it. There was only one condition that Chance needed to be content with this death.
Chance could not die alone.
“Stay.” He choked, not realizing that blood had started to pool in his mouth. They coughed after struggling to get the word out. Strangled gasps of air followed as Chance glanced up at ITrapped, praying that by some miracle ITrapped would not only hear his plea, but listen. Chance coughed again on the continuous blood coming up. Wishing, hoping that ITrapped wasn’t just a living void where emotions should be.
And by some supernatural force, Telamon or anything else, ITrapped turned back. A glimpse over his shoulder to watch as Chance choked on his own spit and blood, risking a sooner demise just to beg for someone, anyone to stay with him. ITrapped was motionless for a moment, Chance could only hope it was his internal thoughts fighting over what to do. Chance would bet money that in this moment ITrapped’s heart was saying stay, while his intuition was begging him to leave.
Because only a few moments later, ITrapped walked back to Chance’s side. Chance knew that the heart always wins in these scenarios. Maybe that’s how he knew this would happen earlier, ITrapped’s heart begged for Chance’s death because he loved them too much. That was the only thing Chance could think of as an explanation at that moment.
It wasn’t until ITrapped sat beside Chance that he felt it. The heat. The warmth of life that pulsated out of ITrapped. He’d never felt so cold in their life. It was so unbearably cold. Chance coughed on the mix of bodily fluids in their mouth again as they finally let their head fall rest on ITrapped’s shoulder.
It was ironic really. They’d always seen ITrapped as a cold person. By words, by actions, by how his hands were when held by Chance. It even always felt like when ITrapped entered a room the temperature would drop. But now, in Chance’s final moments of life, he could truly feel the warmth that ITrapped provided. Most importantly, on his shoulder. His ‘cold shoulder’.
Chance couldn’t help but chuckle aloud at the realization, making ITrapped turn towards them in confusion. Chance mustered all his strength left to give a response to ITrapped for laughing during their own death.
“You’re.. warm.” Chance muttered, “I- I never fe-felt it before.” finishing their explanation. All they could hear was a small huff escaping from ITrapped’s nose as a miniature laugh. It was nice to know that even in the most cruel of moments, Chance could still entertain his lover.
His lover. Chance internally smiled at the thought. The betrayal of ITrapped didn’t even process in his mind when thinking of the words, he was still simply overfilled with a kind, soft, sort of love when thinking of ITrapped. Chance needed to let him know that no matter what he lived and died in love with him.
With their final burst of strength, Chance managed to lightly lift their arm and move it over ITrapped’s, hand finding place on top of his. Chance took a few dew deep breaths to subside the energy exhaustion of the simple small action. Their whole body trembled from the exertion and the freezing atmosphere.
As their vision started to fade more and eyelids became heavy. Chance decided to use the last, fleeting seconds of their limited and tragic life to say the last words that ever graced his living mind.
“I- I love you.”
And with that, their actions finally fell to deadweight against ITrapped, all movement of his chest coming to a halt as their body gave up on trying, getting its last testament into the word before the cold consumed them.
If you had asked Chance what they believed the afterlife would’ve been like, never in their wildest imagination would they have told you it started with a bright camera flash.
The feeling of a bright light against his eyelids made him jolt awake. However, something felt… wrong. He wasn’t cold anymore for starters. Instead, they actually felt like they were overheating, one side of their body almost ablaze while very lightly sweating. It was nothing like they remembered their death feeling. The whole situation felt like they were in a haze, some weird, hot, uncomfortable haze of humidity.
When the flash initially happened, they groaned. He grabbed at his face to cover his eyes from the sudden light against his eyelids that was disrupting his rest. But, that was when he felt it. His skin around his eyes was rugged and didn’t exactly feel like skin. On top of that, it was sore… very sore. He actually ended up wincing at the feeling of pressing against his eye area. Cursing under their breath, Chance tried to think of any reason why their eyes would be sore.
That’s when it clicked. He felt too warm because he had been left surrounded by a freezing cold that overtook him. Was that why they felt too hot? Was this hell? Chance knew they hadn’t done the best things in their former years, but was it enough to be in eternal suffering? Chance didn’t think that they exactly deserved to be tortured for the rest of time, after all he wasn’t the one who killed ITrapped, it wa-
ITrapped.
Chance shot up from where he was lying down, quickly opening his eyes and looking around for his lover. His surrounding area looked nothing like the fiery pit of hell like they’d been expecting. Rather, Chance was laid down on wooden floors besides a fireplace in a wooden cabin. It felt oddly… homey? Maybe a little creepy, sure, but any new place is bound to feel that way if you wake up in it after your tragic death. The wood was slightly worn, but still a warmer brown shade compared to most others. There were lanterns and torches illuminating the place enough for Chance to see the different things in the room he had woken up in. There were two couches near the fireplace (why couldn’t they have rested there?), a few askew chairs as well as a grandfather clock, some worn rigs and other small decorations like bookshelves and paintings. At least, that’s what they could take in before he spotted the source of the flash.
Another person. They wore a red pizza place uniform with a long sleeve black undershirt and black pants with a matching visor sitting above their face. They had semi-long blond curly hair that was done up in a half-up half-down style with a few pieces framing their face. Then of course, their face. Widened brown eyes met Chance’s golden ones. Freckles all across their face with a mouth left slightly ajar in what Chance could only assume was shock. The person held a polaroid camera in their hands that had started to dispense an image. Chance put together the pieces of what had happened while the pizza worker was still frozen in a slight shock.
“Didn’t anyone teach ya’ some manners? Why the hell are ya’ taking pictures of me while I’m asleep?” Chance complained at the odd action of the unfamiliar person. They then lifted their hands to brush off his own suit of anything that had gotten on them. Looking down, he realized that the suit was no longer bloodied, but rather perfectly put together, appearance showing as though Chance had never died. He took mental note of this before going to fix their hat, reaching up to grab it before realizing it isn't atop their head.
He turned around to see if it had fallen off where they had laid, and they were correct. Grabbing their headphones and hat to put them on to complete his outfit, Chance realized that he didn’t have his shades on. Panic immediately insured in their head as he looked around his new resting place and didn’t see them.
“Are you… missing something?” The impolite pizza person asked, Chance looked back up at them with a rude expression, confused how they didn’t catch the signs that he didn’t want to talk to them.
“Dude, what is wrong with you?” Chance asked, making the person tilt their head in confusion. “Dear Telamon,” Chance muttered under his breath, “Taking pictures of people without knowing them is fucking weird-” they cut themself off once realizing what they were complaining about and seeing the developing picture in the other person’s hands.
“You can’t show that to anyone. If… there is anyone else here…” Chance threatened, pointing a finger towards the other person, then trailing off in confusion of the current situation.
It was at that moment that the two were interrupted by the sudden teleportation of someone new into the cabin. It was a blue haired, muscular, military styled man covered in what Chance could only assume were battle scars. But, before they could get a better look, the man was teleported mid swing and ended up punching extremely hard into one of the couches with a yell. Once realizing where he was, the man shouted a curse before collapsing into the couch out of defeat. Chance was so shocked by the sudden event that he had totally forgotten about threatening the pizza deliverer, or their shades. Before the newly arrived soldier could move from his positioning, Chance quickly turned his body back around to face the fireplace and away from the two others while frantically patting themself down. He opened his blazer and checked the pockets to see if somehow they had been transported with their glasses. And magically, somehow, he had!
He frantically grabbed them and shoved them on to mostly cover the scarring over their eyes and completely hide half their face so that they were less identifiable or easily readable before turning around with a deep breath to face the other two. The soldier was still slumped over on the couch, but the pizza person stood straight now, looking back and forth between the two other people trying to decide what to do. Chance pointed at the photo and then the person before moving his hand to make the “throat slicing” movement across their neck. The other immediately nodded, now noticing the glasses and shoved the picture in their pocket before finally clearing their throat to get the soldier’s attention.
The man finally gained the strength to stand back up and turn towards the two where he only expected one. When he finally had his eyes land on Chance, he suddenly stood up straighter in shock. “Oh, hello.”
That was a year ago.
Or, well, what Chance could only assume was a year ago. In this new place it was a never-ending night where the full moon constantly beamed down on them and never moved. Elliot had decidedly found a watch in his cabin one of the days soon after Chance’s arrival and used it to make as close as he could guesstimate of what the actual day cycle would have been like back in the real world.
Elliot was the pizza boy that had initially taken the picture of Chance while they were asleep (took them a minute to figure out that Elliot was a man without directly asking out of respect), and apparently the head chef in their purgatory out of the ten survivors that were currently in this torture. Chance wasn’t the last person to appear in this cabin, in fact two more people had appeared after him. Chance had also learned that the rest had only been there for a few weeks before them, so he wasn’t too late to be excluded from everyone else, which happened to be the biggest win as they got to know the other people who they were stuck with.
Back to Elliot to start, the two of them really did get off on the wrong foot. Chance soon learned that the only reason that Elliot had wanted to take a picture in the first place was because Guest 1337 (who they all simply called Guest) was a military expert and tended to try and make strategies based off of everyone’s strong suits and weaknesses against the killers in the rounds that they faced. So, polaroid photos were requested so that he could use one of each person to take notes on the large whiteboard they were provided. Elliot, although initially pissed Chance off, opted to take a new picture of Chance with their glasses on for Guest, never telling anyone that he had taken one of Chance without them. That was something they really appreciated.
In their life, Chance had normally kept the shades on to protect themself from paparazzi obsession coming from a rich family, but they also kept them on constantly once he had gotten into the world of gambling. They managed to give them an upper edge against the other professional gamblers in Chance’s casino circuit, and also sort of ended up giving Chance this sort of extra confidence. It was like a safety blanket, something protecting them from the cruel judgement of others. When Chance first saw himself in a mirror after being ‘forsaken’ as everyone else called it, he was horrified by the scars left from ITrapped’s beloved darkheart. The tattered and broken skin formed in a darker, more pinkish color around their eyes. Initially, Chance was scared to look, but after a few days of showering in the dark, they finally decided to look at the scarring on their chest from the stab wound.
And by Telamon it was disturbing. A large slit-like tear had been scarred over in different shades of grey and beige against their chest. It wasn’t a pretty heal either like most other scars the survivors had. The wound looked as though the sword was twisted and had mangled Chance’s flesh and skin and that the scarring had healed over that. It wasn't enough to be visible from viewing Chance with their undershirt on, but anyone who would ever manage to press against Chance's chest would be able to feel it. Like their heart had exploded and the remnants had never been cleaned off, like he had just had to quickly move on without ever checking if they were okay first.
Maybe it was some sort of fucked up metaphor by the being that had brought them all here, that’s what Chance believed before they had met 007n7. Most people here, like the admins and Elliot, seemed to hate the man, but Chance couldn’t find anything wrong with the guy. He just looked like a grieving father to Chance, and who could be rude to that? After a few conversations with Seven, Chance finally saw it. On Seven’s right temple, there was a similar looking scarring in a circular pattern, and Chance could only assume what had caused it. He never knew what it was, they just figured someone had shot Seven. Sure, Chance was a gossip, but they did not want to risk asking someone about their death and ending up being asked the same thing in turn.
Actually, Chance never mentioned ITrapped to anyone. They never spoke of their death nor their lover towards anyone in the purgatory when asked about their life. Instead, Chance would bring up his casino or Spade. Best not to bring the mood lower than it already normally was, right?
Well, not to toot his own horn… but in the past year or so Chance had sort of become a vital part of this rag-tag group. They became one of the biggest sources of not only entertainment but also moral support in the group. Chance was a friend to the nervous and was there for those who didn’t know anyone else pre-being forsaken. Which happened to be surprisingly common. Some robloxia admins like Builderman, Shedletsky, Dusekkar, and Taph all recognized one another instantly upon seeing one another. Others like Elliot and 007n7 knew each other from a hatred for one another in their lives. Then there were people like Guest 1337 who had quite literally been famous for their actions while alive, like being The Last Guest. That left people like Chance, Noob, and Two Two time to try and fit their ways into already established friends and relationships. So, Chance had decidedly become the middleman for most of the people here until they had all become acquainted enough to deal with each other. Now, after a very uncomfortable few months, most of the people within the cabins were well acquainted with one another enough to where everyone wouldn’t leave immediately after rounds or refuse to play games with one another that was left by whatever being did have them all here in the first place.
Speaking of the rounds, Chance found it very odd that of all types of torture, the all seeing being decided rounds of attempted group survival against a killer would be most fitting. Giving each person different abilities that are useful for both survival and team playing to be used to try and survive being killed over and over. The more they thought about the predicament of being stuck here with no way out to be seen-
Their thoughts were immediately cut off by a hand waving in front of their face. Chance looked up to see Elliot, waving up and down with a bothered expression on his face. Chance shook his head once realizing how zoned out they were as Elliot rolled his eyes.
“Dinner’s ready.” He said, walking back to the kitchen as Chance stood and walked towards the dinner table where everyone else was already sitting. Chance took one of the two free seats and found a place sitting beside Shedletsky and towards the side of the table where more of the admins sat. Shedletsky elbowed Chance once they had sat down to get his attention, only to immediately crack a joke.
“You alright there gambler? Thought we lost you for a good minute there!” The avian-like man stated with a big boisterous laugh, making the others at their end of the table laugh along with him while Chance nervously chuckled along with them. Sure, he zoned out from time to time, but it wasn’t normally to the large extent he had just now. They hoped no one thought anything wrong of them. Nothing was wrong anyway, just a moment of being lost in thought. Maybe a little embarrassing at the worst.
It was then that Elliot re-emerged from the kitchen with multiple plates of food in his hands and on his arms. Placing them in front of the first seats closest to the kitchen door, then down the line. It took a few trips to hand out all the nine plates before finally taking the last open spot next to Chance and beginning to feast the same way that their fellow companions had.
The dinner looked absolutely incredible. Elliot had made a large serving of chicken alfredo for everyone, the sauce a perfect consistency that was warm enough to still have the steam rising off of it even as Chance and Elliot had gotten the last servings. Chance’s mouth watered at just the sight of it when it first came out of the kitchen. And oh the smell . It was like something out of a movie you could only pray to experience in real life. The second his plate touched down onto the wooden table Chance had picked up the preset fork and immediately dug in. If not for how hungry he already was, for the pure delectability that seemed to ooze from the vision of this heaven sent pasta.
“Easy killer!” Elliot chimed up, pulling his hand back quickly as though Chance had pulled it from him for the sake of the bit. He chuckled along with this notion, and Chance couldn’t help but laugh back once hearing it.
“Sorry dude-” Chance started, still chewing the first bite, but before they could even finish the idea they melted into the warmth of the flavors hitting their tastebuds. Elliot was without a doubt the best cook amongst the ten, and it was something everyone had learned very, very quickly after watching Noob and Two Time almost burn down the kitchen together. But, aside from that it was also learned during everyone’s first few rounds when they had also tasted Elliot’s magical healing pizza. Once he found his way into the kitchen and made his first meal for the group, his fate was sealed. None of the survivors ever wanted anything else. Of course, people offered from time to time to give Elliot a break from the burdening task, but Elliot always managed to balance the weight placed upon his shoulders, in fact, Chance believed that there was a slight part of Elliot that enjoyed being able to provide for the others in such a way. It was a care that Chance also carried with himself, it just manifested in a different form.
“Sorry dude?” Elliot asked, pulling Chance from the thoughts again as they had finally swallowed the first bite they had taken.
“Sorry, lost in thought.” Chance muttered with a nervous smile. “I meant to say: ‘Sorry dude, ya’ food is just too good.’” Chance joked, making Elliot smile at the compliment while taking his own bite.
“Why thank you!” Elliot said, covering his mouth to hide the chewing of the food. But the interaction was soon interrupted by a slightly southern accent.
“You alright Chance? You seem to be thinkin’ a lot…” Builderman spoke from beside Shedletsky, “very out of character for you.” he finished, making the few admins all break out in laughter again. Chance simply rolled his eyes at the jokes and kept eating.
Really though, as much as Chance hated the sentiment of agreeing with the fact that he didn’t think much, he seemed to be lost in thought more often than not in recent times. More specifically, uncontrollable streams of thoughts. It was weird, at least to himself. Somehow, most of the time in the recent week Chance ended up zoning out in times of ease and instead traveling down a rabbit hole of different slightly connected ideas. And yet the majority of the time, they all had been leading him to the same place.
ITrapped.
Really, if you left it up to Chance he would never want to think of the man again. When they were first forsaken, the thought of ITrapped never hurt because he still loved him. Truly, Chance loved ITrapped. The sore scars on his body ached to be ripped open again every time he yearned for his lover, they screamed for the rush and thrill of being torn open just for the chance to be able to see their dearly beloved. And yet, as time went on and Chance learned more and more about not only the tragedies of the other survivors but also their beliefs on how one should be loved and treated, Chance learned quickly that he was alone in this belief.
The belief that what Chance was experiencing was in fact love.
It wasn’t exactly easy to come to terms with. Sure, the idea had met Chance very quickly once observing everyone else’s stories of life and love, but understanding what they mean and truly taking it to heart are two completely different things that Chance had different skill levels in. When these story times normally turned Chance’s way they’d talk about their love for their pet rabbit Spade or some woman that he’d had a fling with before devoting his life to gambling. Or gambling. Chance loved to talk about his love for gambling. But never was ITrapped mentioned to another soul in this place. Maybe it was because they feared being judged for the odd love they still held for their killer, someone here had to think Chance insane for still carried the unwavering devotion deep inside his chest, so he kept it. He kept it like a damn good secret that would be the only thing left to cradle him inside his own grave. He kept it the way a soldier kept a singular item of their lover’s back home as a good luck charm.
Well that made him think of Guest and his wife Daisy, and although Guest had only briefly mentioned her a few times, Chance knew his love wasn’t like that at all. What Guest had for Daisy is what they speak of in fairytales. Guest loved Daisy and his daughter more than there were stars in the universe, stronger than the gravitational pull of all of them combined too. That wasn’t what Chance held, no, not even close. Chance’s love was more of the type of soldier who comes back to their lover having a new life and family without them, but that soldier can’t find the place to move on because that had been all they’d ever known… all they ever loved.
Chance felt cold again, like a breeze had swept by that knocked them out of the thought completely, sending a shiver up their spine that made their whole body shake. Waking Chance up from the trance again, he looked to see the admins snickering at his repeated zone outs.
Chance connected eye contact (well, as close to eye contact as you could get between two eye-covered men) with Taph, who tilted his head at Chance and quickly dropped his fork to start signing to Chance.
“Are you okay?” Taph asked, concerned for the long haired man. Chance just sighed a nice, breathy chuckle whilst flapping one of their hands to act as dismissing the concerns of the other.
“I’m fine Taph, thanks.” He responded, making Taph shrug and turn back to his food.
Chance really needed a distraction, fast.
He looked around the table to see everyone’s completion status of their meals. Most of the others had been almost done with their food, graciously eating the blessing of food that Elliot had created with zero complaints. Chance started to eat the food a slight bit quicker to try and stay on pace with the others as they tried to think of a plan.
That’s when it hit him. A bet. Everyone loves a good bet! Right? He could place a bet on one of the few games they had in the main cabin and play something with the others to distract himself from the constant unsettling thoughts he was having. Bingo!
Well, not bingo for the game. Chance hated bingo. Instead, he thought of grabbing the worn Uno deck that the random being watching over them had graciously given them. Cleaning the plate in probably record time, Chance stood from his seat and walked into the main room like a man on a mission to grab the card game deck. Once retrieving it, he walked back into their designated eating room and placed the deck on the table, grabbing everyone’s attention towards them and the deck.
“ Worst losers do the dishes.” Chance said. There was a moment of silence amongst the other survivors before Taph stood.
“I’m in.” Taph signed, piling their now dirtied plate on top of Chance’s as though it was the pot… just for the losers instead of the winners. This is what sparked the rest of the players to join. Eventually Chance had rallied up himself, Taph, Two Time, and Noob into this game of distraction that they had created.
The four now sat around the coffee table near the fireplace by the couches, desperately yelling, reaching, and crying at one another as the game continued on pain-steakingly. Everyone was down to three or less cards as Noob complained about the color turning once again when Two Time laid down a yellow card of the same number previously played.
“Uno!” The cultist chimed, making everyone groan at the turn passed to Taph. Taph begrudgingly then reached to draw another card to their collection before the turn order moved to Chance. He looked down at the two cards in his hands before playing the yellow one, quickly yelping out an “Uno” before anyone else could catch them off guard.
“You gotta be kidding me!” Noob cried while grabbing a card. They then watched as Two Time glanced down at their hand before having an eye twitch as they reached for another card to add to their hand silently. The game had been going on like this for the past fifteen minutes, everyone getting so close to victory but no one being able to finally grasp the reward of having no chores for the night.
Luckily for Chance, the game was doing exactly what he had intended it to do. They hadn’t found themself lost in thought at any point during the game which was a massive win considering just how much Chance detested doing the dishes. It was some sort of texture problem, running water met with mushy remains of food made their stomach churn, even the thought just now was making them feel uncomfortable. So they went back to cherishing the blessed distraction time he had bought himself as Noob excitedly was able to change the color back to green and got down to two cards.
Taph jumped on the color change with a reverse, bumping the order back to Noob as they looked at their hand and sighed, grabbing yet another card as they weren’t prepared for the color to come back to them again. As it hit Two Time’s turn, a voice popped up that made all four jump out of their skin.
“Are you four close to the end of this frivolous bet? The evening’s end is close to Elliot’s fret.” Dusekkar spoke, looking down at the four poor souls trying to finish the game. Chance looked up at the admin and chuckled, a grin plastering across his face as he tried to get the man off their backs.
“We got this Dusekkar! We’re almost done anyways, right guys?” Chance then turned to the other three whole all looked absolutely dreadful… except for Two Time, always keeping their familiar unsettling smile, but everyone could tell that even they were getting fed up with the game.
“...Okay, I shall take my leave… please, finish this game with swift ease.” He spoke before exiting the main cabin. It was in watching him leave that Chance decided to take in the rest of the main cabin as it stood.
After dinner some of the others had decided to stick around and watch the bet unfold or simply hang out. 007n7 and Guest had left and retired to bed, Dusekkar now joining them. Builderman and Shedletsky sat on the couch behind the group playing the game having a casual conversation that was normally broken up into laughs between the two best friends. And finally, Elliot stood leaning against a wall near the doorway that led to the dining room and the kitchen from the main living room. He watched over the four as they played their game, a soft smile on his face.
“Whatcha’ doin Elliot? Come join the rest of us!” Chance called out, waving the blond over. He simply rolled his eyes at the request and finally walked over, sitting in a different free seat to watch the game more closely.
“Like what Dusekkar said, you guys better wrap this up soon. I need my kitchen sink clean before tomorrow’s breakfast.” Elliot spoke, the vague authority of the statement rang clear in everyone’s ears as Two Time reached for another card to add to their own hand, much to their distress.
Chance took a nod down at the singular card in his hand before looking back at the played deck. They were both green. With a cocky smirk, Chance threw the card from between their index and middle finger towards the center of the table, indicating his victory over the rest.
“No need to worry, Elliot, I think I got this handled.” Chance said with a shit-eating grin. The other three groaned, whether of despair or relief Chance couldn’t tell, but what he could hear was Elliot’s slight chuckle at the scene.
“I mean- what did you guys expect going against the guy who’s whole get-up is luck?” Elliot giggled. Noob, Taph, and Two Time all looked at each other’s hands to see who had the most cards to decide who had to spend extra time in the kitchen tonight. Noob and Two Time ended up being the two with the most cards, helping each other up as they walked towards the kitchen in a sluggish, disgruntled manner.
Taph let out a large stretch, wings rattling behind them at the feeling of the muscle tension. They then looked back towards Chance and Elliot.
“Very tired after that meal and game, heading back to my cabin.” They signed, Chance immediately nodding along while Elliot took a second to compute the motions before nodding as well. With that, Taph too stood and left the main area they had all been hanging out in.
There weren't enough cabins for everyone to have their own rooms in. Well, at first there was. Eight cabins for the eight survivors, but once Dusekkar and Taph arrived, a road block was hit on the rooming situation. The first few nights the new arrivals had slept in the main cabins on the couches. However, it wasn’t fair to them that everyone else got beds and a good night’s rest. So, instead it was decided that two cabins would be shared. Shedletsky offered to move in with Builderman since the two were already so close before being sent to this place, which meant that one cabin was freed up, leaving one left to share. The group consensus ended up being that Chance should room with Taph due to just how talkative Chance was. Everyone hoped that they would rub off on one another in the ways they wanted, like Chance learning how to keep his trap shut for once and Taph becoming more open with others. And sure, those things sort of happened, but instead the brunt of the “rubbing off” was the two constantly talking with one another and picking up on each other’s ‘bad’ habits.
But, what it also meant was Chance had to pick up ASL, fast . They ended up being surprisingly good at learning it, comprehending it perfectly after only 4ish months with the bird-like fellow. They could also sign it pretty well, but they were still learning. However, he still knew it much better than most of the other survivors due to the extra exposure to Taph, meaning that it still took some others a moment to comprehend what he meant at times, much like Elliot’s processing just then.
Speaking of Elliot, he happened to let out a yawn that grasped Chance’s attention again. The blond did a slight body shake out afterwards as though the action had rejuvenated the ache in his bones slightly.
“Ya’ alright there?” Chance asked, leaning back against the leg of the chair Elliot sat in. He felt as Elliot also leaned backwards in it, getting more comfortable.
“Mhm, just tired. Taph’s got the right idea.” He joked, making a chuckle escape the gambler. The two just sat there for a moment in the cozy atmosphere that the main cabin had created. Despite being a special sort of purgatory filled with a torture unseen by any before, there managed to be moments like these that often made the attempt of constant survival feel worth it. The soft laughter of the two robloxian admins filled the room again as the fireplace crackled. It felt similar to a winter night at a well made resort. A place where you could let your guard down and soak up the warm comfort that enveloped the space.
“You could go to bed though, nothin's stoppin ya’.” Chance spoke again, elbowing Elliot’s calf. The latter let out a sigh at the mention of his own bed, thinking of how nice it would feel after the marathon that had been his day.
“Yes, but I need to make sure Two Time and Noob don’t ruin the place, even if half sleep deprived. If anything, you should be the one heading to bed.” Elliot spoke, slightly repositioning himself in the chair.
“Me? What’s wrong with me?” Chance asked, tilting his head upwards to look at Elliot, who was simply gazing into the kitchen to keep an eye on the two previously mentioned scoundrels. At Chance’s question, Elliot then looked down with a sarcastic chuckle.
“Really? Mister Earth-to-Chance-every-two-seconds doesn’t need some quality rest?” Elliot joked, making Chance roll his eyes, although not very visible from the shades.
For some reason, the mention of their recent zone outs made Chance lose the feeling of the cozy warm atmosphere that had been so delicately created. Instead, they felt a slight wave of coolness hit their body, setting themself out of the slight haze the scene had made.
“Dude, I said m’fine.” Chance responded, looking away from Elliot, eyes finding a new fixation on the fireplace.
“Okay, okay I get it. Just… worried is all.” Elliot stated, eyes drifting back to the kitchen to eye Noob and Two Time. Chance couldn’t help but keep his stare at the dancing fire as it gently produced both a soft light and noise in the room. More oddly, he couldn’t help but envy it. The slight cold he felt had now lingered, his body developing goosebumps as it observed the fire. The bright, warm fire. They prayed, for just a moment, that they could be enveloped by its warmth, not understanding where or why the wish was appearing in their mind. All he knew was that he craved the warmth of the fire, in any way he could get it. That’s when he, too, remembered his bed.
“Y’know what, I am gonna head to bed. Bye Elliot.” Chance spoke suddenly, rising from his spot against the leg of the chair Elliot sat in and starting towards the main cabin door.
“Oh, okay, bye Chance.” Elliot responded, confused at the sudden change of heart after the small disconnect they had had. Chance simply walked out of the building, closing the door behind him as he took a deep breath of the cool air outside the cabin.
The cold of the outside was similar to the feeling that had overcome them. They took a few steps towards their cabin before stopping and looking around the environment. The bright moonlight shone itself down on the small one street town they had been provided. Well, calling it a town was giving it too much credit. It was a small cul-de-sac shaped road with each of the eight cabins placed around it as well as the main cabin as a connector. If you followed north you would find a large lake with some nice docks that overlooked that body of water. Other than that, the rest of the area was surrounded by dense woods.
Chance observed how the breeze danced its way through the leaves of said trees, the rustle being slightly audible to him. More than that, the feeling of the breeze made them involuntarily shudder. He didn’t like how unsettling the feeling was in comparison to how his day was already going. Deciding to try and move quicker though the land to his and Taph’s shared place.
His hair bounced with each movement towards his destination, it was times like these where Chance mourned having the cabin farthest from the main one as the chill started to settle into his bones. They started to rush, pace quickening as they reached the front door and quickly opened it, entered, then immediately shit it behind himself.
Chance didn’t notice, but during the slight rush they had begun to tear up. The rise and fall of his chest occurred at a quicker pace as he leaned backwards against the wall for support, attempting to catch his breath. Taph was in their shared bathroom currently, making him unable to bear witness to the events that had just happened, this Chance was relieved about. They didn’t know what had gotten into themself but they knew without a shadow of a doubt that no one could see him like this.
He let himself regain his breath as he moved towards his own closet, grabbing some basic tee shirt and pants to change into. The survivors had luckily been spared of sleeping in their regular clothes and were provided a small closet to change into as they pleased by this powerful being keeping them entrapped. Once selecting his decided pajamas, they heard the bathroom door click as Taph exited the room.
“Oh, hi.” Taph signed, their hood and mask still on alongside his pajamas that covered most skin. A surprisingly normal habit Chance had learned of, Taph often waited until Chance was asleep to take off just the mask and be able to breathe better. They never bothered to ask about Taph’s appearance or struggles with it so Taph had never explained.
“Well, I’m going to sleep for tonight.” Taph signed, setting the folded robes in their hands down on the nightstand next to the bed that Builderman had built for Taph when they had arrived. Taph then crawled into the bed and before rolling over signed one last thing towards the gambler: “Goodnight Chance.”
“G’night buddy.” Chance spoke, watching as Taph cozied into the bed, assuming Chance would soon follow suit and go to bed. So, that’s what Chance attempted to do. He went into the bathroom shared by the two and started to change into their pajamas, taking note of the few astray feathers across the floor and assuming Taph would clean them in the morning.
Once they removed their shirt, they stared into their reflection in the mirror for a moment. It was like Chance couldn’t even take in his own appearance without his eyes drifting towards the scar on his chest. The removal of his clothes made him shiver at the new air hitting his bare skin, the familiar cool making them feel the unsettling feeling crawling back under their skin. Chance took a shaky breath as he watched the slight movement of the rise and fall of his chest, the movement of the scar as he trembled in the cold. It was shameful to admit how much he tried to avoid moments like these. Oftentimes seeing or feeling the scarring brought back vivid memories of the betrayal no matter how much they shoved them down. Once, whilst getting into a small dispute with Shedletsky the man shoved Chance against their chest and he could feel the contact directly to the scarring. That moment had rocked Chance’s stance in a moment, immediately apologizing and finding an excuse to take their leave. Once they could get their way alone in their cabin, he couldn’t help but recall over and over the feeling of touch against it. The warmth of the hand even through the layers of fabric Chance wore. It was terrifying, really. He didn’t know that the scar had felt so… cold. It wasn’t warm like he was living, no, it was freezing like a dead man. Memories quickly flooded Chance’s head as they started to sob quietly to themself in the privacy of his cabin. Ever since that night, Chance avoided letting anyone reach towards his chest. It rarely ever happened, but it was something they tried to steer clear from as much as possible. Never would Chance let someone see how much it… hurt?
No, because it never hurt or ached, it was just… raw. As though the wound was still opened, it was able to cause Chance pain if poked and prodded at enough. However, this night, the past week of relentless torture of the mind had provoked Chance enough to brave touching the scar again.
His hand slowly raised towards the scar, taking place right beside it on his chest as he slowly, ever so carefully, let his fingers inch towards the ugly wound. When they finally started to touch the different texture in comparison to his own skin, his fingertips trembled at the sudden chill. His breath hitched as they looked down instead of at the mirror at the sudden change of bodily temperature. It took a second for Chance to somehow gain the confidence to move further, the odd texture of his own body playing some sick, twisted mental trick on them as they inevitably were able to get their hand to touch at the core of the ugly wound. It was as cold as ice, like trying to touch metal in the winter and it being so cold you couldn’t tell the difference between that and extreme heat pain. This, this was what hurt from the wound. The feeling of knowing and being able to touch a part of you that was frozen in time as the rest of you tried to move on.
Before Chance knew it, he could barely see what was causing them so much turmoil as his vision had started to blur. Then, they felt a droplet start to fall down their cheek. He didn’t even know what was happening before he was crying, tears slipping down his cheeks and dripping onto their chest as he struggled to breathe. What was happening? Or, better question: Why was this happening? What had happened to make Chance suddenly feel all of these raw emotions so much more viscerally? He had a slight hiccup, and the hand over their frigid chest jumped up to cover their mouth. He wouldn’t know how to explain this deranged situation to anyone else. How could you explain his predicament, the battle between heart and mind raging to such a physical extent while being shoved down so deep that they couldn’t share in the first place?
Chance closed their eyes as the tears seeped from them once again, attempting to take a deep breath and instead having it become three shaky ones. He tried again, trying to ground himself from the sudden spike in strong emotions out of seemingly nowhere. It took a moment before Chance could breathe in a vaguely normal pattern again. He immediately used the break to grab the pajama shirt and throw it on so they wouldn’t have to look at the scar anymore. They then took another deep breath and forced themself to change into the rest of the clothing, folding the previous suit and grasping it as he left the bathroom.
Still trembling slightly, Chance prayed to anyone that would listen that Taph wouldn’t have heard or questioned anything that had just occurred, and by Chance’s luck… they hadn’t! It was such a relief that Chance didn’t even notice they were holding their breath until they let it back out with a large sigh. Placing the clothes on their own nightstand, he turned off the lights of the cabin and crawled into the bed, wrapping himself back up into the bedsheets and blankets.
He was cold. So cold. He didn’t understand why. Chance practically begged the world to let him sleep, just this once and not stay up thinking of everything they had done this day, but alas nothing ever changes. Chance recalled all of their own zone outs, the thoughts and memories of ITrapped that resurfaced despite no one pressing his buttons or pushing his limits. He thought about how he had suddenly too become cold as he slightly snapped at Elliot earlier in the day, or how he had frozen in one of the rounds earlier in the morning. Even the word association to the feeling made a shiver go down Chance’s skin. He hated it. They so desperately wanted it all to just vanish so he could get some rest and focus. But no, it consumed him. Shaking and trembling under the bed as a tear silently fell from his eye again.
He licked his lips lightly before biting them down against each other between the inner parts of the lips, suffocating any sound that dared to even try to present itself. So there Chance laid, silently weeping as he held onto the familiar dreams of his beloved before he inevitably faded into the soft sleep he so desperately craved.
The world did not end when Chance died at the hand of his lover. Their heartbeat, forever stopped and held in the grasp of ITrapped had no need to be paused because it had been beating for him anyways. When Chance came face to face with death and accepted it, that was never going to be the moment his world ended, no.
Chance’s world froze, and he had been left cold. Oh, so cold.