Chapter Text
You…
Honestly, you weren’t quite sure what happened these past 24 hours. Half of your now fully-conscious brain had settled on this being some sort of twisted hallucination you experienced after inhaling the noxious spores from some weird mushroom during your bravery challenge. But, the other, half-insane half-sane side of your mind simply cannot deny the manifestation of your nightmares sitting right across from you, a sharp smile stretching from ear to ear and a mop of strangely neat black hair swallowing its figure.
It? He? That, too, was something you didn’t know. Hell, the thing never stood up, and the noises that creaked from its throat were far from human.
But… It was nice. It helped you. It followed you, shielded you, and the pure, radiant happiness it exuded when you proposed, in broken ghostly-language, for it to join you hardly came across as malicious or non-sentient. It had feelings, and while some parts were… wrong, surely, it was owed some sort of humanity, you reasoned.
And so, it became a he , and then a Mr. Crawling -- the highlight of your creativity, truly. You doubted he understood the significance of the slightly different noises coming out of your mouth as you called to him, but still, it was the least you could do.
“... not… go ?” He asked, head tilted as he sat patiently on the ground, lanky grayed limbs bent awkwardly into some mix between a w-shape and a regular sitting position. You think he said something else as well, but honestly, you were exhausted, and you hadn’t really had much time to truly learn his language.
“...” You sighed again, looking at him, then your surroundings. You had popped out right where you had started– or somewhere near it, at least, as you recognized the spooky decorations nailed and wrapped around trees. You were back in the forest you had entered before being sucked into… something. At least the light rain had stopped, leaving damp soil and the smell of petrichor to fill your senses instead of the… yeah.
Well, besides, you had nothing on you. Right– it was all in your bag that, for some reason, wasn’t brought alongside the rest of you.
“ Need …” you paused, hesitating. How did you say bag? Scrounging through all the corners of your mind left you with a blank, and you searched for the next best thing.
Which would be bucket. Fuck.
Mr. Crawling tilted his head the other way, mouth flattening slightly in what you presume to be confusion. “You… ∎∎∎” he uttered something that didn’t spark a single click of recognition in your brain. “∎∎∎… ∎∎∎. ∎∎∎∎∎∎. Help?”
You gave one nod. “Yeah, help . Uhm… bucket… “ You made the attempt of drawing out what it looked like in the dirt while ignoring the small amount of embarrassment that rose in your chest at your horrific attempt to communicate.
You jabbed at the middle of the drawing of your rather simple bag. “Uh- blood .” You muttered, figuring it was the closest thing to whatever the actual word for red was.
Mr. Crawling frowned a bit, then chirped a “ Me help you ∎∎∎ bucket! ∎∎∎ ∎∎∎∎?” With a much more pleasant smile.
You nodded, “Yeah, thanks. Ok, so… I guess we’ll split up?”
Mr. Crawling stared blankly with that dopey smile and you sighed, standing up. You felt a little bad for making a… disabled ghost? Yeah, a disabled ghost do some of the work. Shoeless and possibly pant-less
Damn. You’ve stooped down low these past few hours.
_____________________________
Honestly, you were surprised at just how efficient a disabled ghost was when left in the dark, blind, and in an environment he’s never been in before. Just as you were about to give up and start heading back into civilization, you heard a gleeful, familiar bone-chilling giggle followed by “ Me ∎∎∎ bucket blood!”
Your head shoots up, “You did?!” As you rushed off to the bushes where he had wandered off.
You let out a sigh of relief as you spotted the familiar bag, grabbing it from Mr. Crawling’s hands. “ Thank you,” you smiled, weary but grateful, as Mr. Crawling giggled once again.
“ Happy ! Happy !” He said, reaching out to pat your head again.
You found yourself letting out a small laugh as well at the unusually tender action, giving your bag a quick once-over to confirm everything was there. When you spotted your phone, you quickly tapped on the screen, letting out a quick breath of relief as it lights up only for it to immediately be followed by a small wince.
Over 50 missed calls and 100 messages… yikes. And with a glance at the time and date, you understood why. Turns out, your sense of time was rather accurate– it had been just over a day since your disappeared.
“ Hurt? You hurt?” Mr. Crawling asked, leaning in close to do his ghost-equivalent of looking. Honestly, you can’t be bothered to question why, how, or even what he’s seeing when all you’ve noticed on his face was a deep red wound in place of his eyes.
“ No,” You shake your head. “Uhm. It’s, uhm, humans. Humans worry… no– me worry humans. ” You explained the best you could, standing up again. Mr. Crawling looks up, confused.
“ You safe. ” He says, crawling towards you rather slowly. “ Humans ∎∎∎?”
You shake your head. “ Go together with me. ” You say with a bit of force. The desire to get home and in bed overshadows much of anything else that could run through your mind.
Mr. Crawling, however, doesn’t seem to mind your curtness, breaking out into another small fit of uncanny giggles as he follows after you, letting out a small mantra of “ Together together together together!”
With half fondness and half exasperation, you trudge on with a smile, feeling like this experience was more akin to a person walking their dog rather than a human leading a ghost to their home. Which… you choose to think about another day. You really, really don’t want to contemplate any more images of your death.
You were so tired .
But, after nearly half an hour of much slower-than typical walking, your patience was wearing thin.
As it turns out, disabled ghosts walk– crawl much slower on slippery, uneven terrain than their familiar concrete floors. You’ve had to slow significantly so that Mr. Crawling wouldn’t get too tangled up in roots and rocks, and a part of you worried for the safety of his bare legs, but every passing glance resulted in a tiny glimpse of smooth, unharmed skin. You assume he was taking extra care to ensure he doesn’t get hurt.
But, still, every passing hour drains your phone’s limited battery and therefore your limited ability to navigate through whatever area of the city you wind up in upon exiting the mountains. You really couldn’t afford to keep slowing down or to risk losing your understanding of where to walk by circling around roots and trees. They had passed most of the decorations by now, leaving only trees and the very faint noise of any rare passing cars.
Eventually, you kneel back down, waving at him to get his attention. “Mr. Crawling.” You hum, watching as he perked up.
“∎∎∎!” He chirped, getting to your position in a few seconds.
“ Me… ” You hesitate. “... Me you… up. ” You said, staring at him to see whether or not he understood. You were sure that, without… a lot of things necessary for life, he would be light enough for you to carry. Sure, you weren’t the fittest of the bunch, but you were healthy and exercised. In fact, you’re sure that your physical health was the only reason you lasted that long in that death trap.
His head tilted, then he grinned. “... Me you ∎∎∎?”
You sighed, contemplating. That was a vaguely familiar word, and you could almost hear something else in your memories having said it.
But before you could actually responded, Mr. Crawling lunged up at you, bringing you down to the ground in one swift motion. You let out a scream, your throat raw and strained by now, but settled in once you realized where you were.
“Mr. Crawling, what are you–?” You let out a half-scream of shock as he began to scoot across the floor with his legs, holding you firmly in his lap, cold yet sturdy arms caging you in.
He giggled, “ Me ∎∎∎! Me ∎∎∎ you!”
You balked, and then the word clicks– carry! Well, carry or lift or hold– something along those lines. You remembered that decapitated head speaking it. The head that you had left behind in the hands of that… goat thing.
“ Me carry you! ” Mr. Crawling giggled, and honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that this was twice as slow as their previous pace (and actual snail’s pace) you might’ve just stayed here and squeezed a nap in.
“Wait, no–
no!
” You wiggled, trying to loosen his arms. You couldn’t– not through sheer force, as his arms felt like stone bricks, but he loosened his hold on his own, leaning in
far too close
and spewing out a cycle of:
“
Hurt? Hurt? Damaged? You sad?
”
You sighed, shaking your head. Well, at least now you know the word. “ No, me carry you. Me carry you. ” You said, trying to convey through hand motions that it would be faster.
Then… Mr. Crawling giggled. Laughed. Directly at your face. “ You carry me? Me ∎∎∎, you ∎∎∎!”
In your heart, you knew you were being laughed at, and you felt heat rushing to your ears as you sputtered in indignation. “What– listen, I can carry you! You’re not even alive, so you probably don’t have water or blood or any other thing in you that makes you as heavy as–”
“ Cute! ” Mr. Crawling cooed with another giggle, playing with your ears, his fingers gentle despite how coarse they felt. The coolness of them actually felt… nice against your burning ears.
You balked, “You–!”
Your breath was interrupted as cement arms wrapped around you again and his butt-scooting continued.
“Hey, I– !”
“ You ∎∎∎ rest !” He said happily, strong legs picking up the pace and pushing small mounds of dirt across the forest floor.
Well… that was actually amendable. Maybe you’d get to the city before sunrise at this pace.
“ Rest rest! ” He said, one arm reaching up to pat your head. “ You ∎∎∎! You rest! You safe. ”
You let out another sigh, though you hardly put any heart into it, leaning against him more as you felt the rhythmic stop and push of him quite literally dragging the both of us to safety.
A disabled ghost… helping a fully-capable human move.
You snort, letting your eyes fall shut.
What has your life become?