A/N: I dare you to play this game and not think about these two.

The End of Us

. . .

Your name is Gamzee Makara, and you are fading much too fast.

. . .

Death is a tight feeling.

Well, maybe death is. Probably is.

You don't think you're asleep. You've wondered into dream-bubbles before, and the feeling is lighter than this. For now, you just feel heavier than you are and all of that weight has settled against your eyelids, leaving you blind.

You entertain the idea of opening your eyes and looking at the world like Terezi does (did?), seeing the world in delightful, delicious things.

You open your eyes and look around you. The thought that there are little drops of milk dropped at the hands of a familiar and clumsy troll on a table cloth that wasn't meant to be dirtied is too silly, and not worth remembering.

There is space and stars all around you, and behind you everywhere is a small purple trail, and that's when you realize it: your name is Gamzee Makara. You were playing when suddenly you guess your friends weren't your friends anymore and kicked you out of the game.

You guess you deserved it, but you can't help but be mad that your friends couldn't be more imaginative about the whole thing. I was just playing along, like you wanted, I didn't mean nothing by it!

You resign yourself to a life of floating around between dreams and death when he pops in, all tangled limbs and obnoxious horns he hadn't grown into yet.

He bumps you a bit, but you're too busy being dead to care.

So he does it again.

And this time, one of his horns hits your cheek. You push him back; tell him to leave you the fuck alone. He looks hurt for a moment (even though you're the one bleeding), his eyes wide, and his trail of orange is dull.

It only lasts a minute, than he's back to his old self, giggling and flushed orange.

"Hey, Gamzee…" he greets, his tone ever hesitant.

You look at him, floating beside you in the abyss.

"You dead?" you ask him.

He nods.

"'m I dead?"

Once again, he nods, and this time you return the gesture in lost acceptance. You have one last question for him, something you have to know, but are afraid to ask.

"Did I kill you?"

He cocks his head to one side, confused. "What?"

"Did I kill you, Tavros? Did I motherfucking KILL you?"

He's scared, more for you than himself, and he hangs his head and shakes it back and forth, back and forth.

You're as relieved as a friend could be while talking in the afterlife.

The two of you are silent for a long time after that.

Then, there's a small sound. It's an explosion, but it's not. It's and softer and happy sound. A twinkle. You look over and Tavros looks like he's just sneezed.

And there's stardust everywhere. And then the same thing happens to you. You hit a star and it twinklesplodes in your face in a burst of purple. Tavros laughs.

The two of you make games of it. Who can hit the most stars? Who can make it the loudest? Whose face is funniest when the star hits it?

He hits you accidently again, and this time you're okay with it. You let him stay there, half in your arms, half not, watching as rainbow colored clouds pass you by.

It happens suddenly. One second he was there shining bright, and in a flash of light he was what seemed to be a world away from you.

Fading, fading, fading.


The lights again, and he's gone.

"Tavros!" you cry.

And then you're blind again, and your body is ripping in half. You open your eyes slowly through tears, and there is the world you worked so hard to create. The world you weren't allowed to be a part of. It's getting rid of you.

Every sense in your body is on fire, so you just relax and resign yourself to die.


So this is the end of us.