Spirit Animals Oneshots

Too Late

Rollan lifted his face into a grin. "Nah, I'm not serious. Let's fucking blow this popsicle stand." 

"It sounds to me like he agreed."

He nods his head. "Maybe I drove him to it, or he was just baiting me to see if I was one hundred. But he did agree to it."

It sounds as though Conor has more to say as his eyes begin to well with tears. I ask if he needs a break and he shakes his head. "No, no. It needs to be said, I just um- he made me promise something. One simple promise."  

Rollan watched as the guard marched back and forth through the grounds. A soft russet met Conor's blue, determination in his eyes. "Nobody dies today. We get every single one out and return together. Do we have a deal?"

"Yeah yeah, absolutely. No dying." He rushed, patting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You won't regret this." Rollan tilted his head to the side, as if to say 'I already do'.

"You knew the risk and were aware of the consequences. The both of you." 

Grief seizes Conor. He raises an unsteady hand to force the sob bleeding through his lips back in. "And neither of us could give less of a shit." 

"Rollan, stay with me alright?" Conor pleaded, looking down in horror at the sight of his limp form. The boy's voice broke as he whispered the words, raspy and pained breaths the only confirmation Rollan was still alive. Conor covered his injury, desperately hoping he'd been applying enough pressure.

"Please, please. I'm sorry." Tears fell from his eyes, mixing into the blood underneath Rollan's body. "I'm sorry I messed up but you can't leave. It's just not fair." Conor's hands were shaking, hold on the wound slipping as he choked on his words. And with each broken groan from his teammate's chapped lips, he winced a little himself, frightened by the undeniable. Blood was dripping down his fingers. His teammate's blood.

"Crimson surrounded us from every angle, seeping through what seemed to be every pore on Rollan's body- which um. Which laid in my arms, and his pulse was slow. It was an image I knew would be forever engrained in my mind. I nearly passed out from the sight, desperately clinging onto his paling form."

"Rol- Rollan, think about Meilin. She'll be crushed if you die. And your mom can't lose you, not after everything..." No response. 

"Fucking asshole, wake up!!" Conor screamed, hot tears dripping down his chin. He dropped his head next to the collar of Rollan's shirt, refusing to accept it. Rollan couldn't be dying. He couldn't be. Rollan was the strongest of them all, the one who always lightened the mood when everything got too dark. He was the color in the dullest of times.

"The only color in my sight was the red painting both of our bodies." It's a barely a whisper as he echoes the words swirling in his mind, and I hang my head down for a moment. What he has gone through, what he has seen... It's something you never truly recover from. 

I pull myself from my thoughts as he continues, tears streaming down his eyes. He uselessly tries to stop them, croaking out, "And- and it was all wrong. I wanted Rollan to be back at Greenhaven and s- safe inside the castle walls. I hoped I was hallucinating. But he- but he was breathing, no matter how labored, and it- it's what I held onto."

His teammate was weakening by the second, and all he could do was bargain.

Conor went silent, sucking in a shaky breath as he whispered, "P-please. You can't- gah. I can't do it without you. Please. Y- you promised we'd both... that the both of us would make it out alive. Don't leave, you can't fucking leave me."

"I was the one who requested for the mission. I was the one who requested Rollan to join me. I was the one who told a Greencloak to go MIA with me. I asked for all of it. But not for him to get hurt, I would never want that." He deadpans.