Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It happened all so quickly. The gunshots, the fog, the fighting, the bloodspray, the elder creature trying to bite and snap at his neck. Noel groaned under the pressure of being held down by this thing, sharp and jagged teeth mere inches away from tearing a piece of his neck out. He struggled against it, trying to knee it in the ribcage– or what could be considered a ribcage– which wasn’t much luck given the limited space between the two. Once it reeled its head back for a moment, he managed to find an opening using all his effort to get the elder off of him, raising his gun and shooting it point blank in the face. Cold metal turning warm. It let out a horrible, ear wrenching screech before falling back going limp.

Noel breathed heavily as he quickly pushed himself up and off the ground, quickly taking out another elder. Larson caught his attention in the corner of his eye, trying to break off from all the commotion and attempting to leave the room while everyone else had their hands tied. He once again raised his gun, managing to get a shot off on Larson and quickly closed the gap between them. Before Larson got a chance to open the door, Noel was quick enough to tackle him onto the ground. Larson whipped his fist, landing a hard impact clean cut across the other’s face, catching Noel slightly off guard. Noel didn’t have a good enough grip on him yet, having the impact knocking him off of Larson slightly rolling on the ground. Larson’s eyes darted from the door back to the detective. He could easily take the chance to get away with the mere seconds he was given, like what his original plan was, but no, he’s not going to let this attempt go unnoticed.

Noel tried to take another shot at Larson, with Larson grabbing the detective’s wrist and knocking the gun out of his hand. Noel was able to knee the other successfully this time, taking that chance to get off the ground again. Larson quickly recovered, doing the same as Noel, slightly stumbling on his footing. He slipped a dagger out, the blade catching the glint of the light of the room as he proceeded to grin at Noel. He was now the one to close the gap between the two, going in for a lunge with the dagger, catching the side of Noel’s jacket as the other dodged out the way. 

Larson was quick to pivot, thrashing the blade through the air, sending a cut through the fabric and across Noel’s arm. With a swing up, the blade glided across his cheek. Noel winced slightly at the sudden sensation of pain, swallowing it down in order to focus on the fight. This wasn’t a moment for weakness. He took a couple steps back, having Larson copy that movement, taking a couple steps forward. The detective took a quick glance around the room, still seeing everyone dealing with their own problems and elders alike. He was alone in this fight. And that’s when he noticed, over his shoulder. The slab sitting there, seemingly beautiful around all the bloodshed. The machine Larson was going to use to separate John and Arthur. Ideas started brewing in his head.

Larson went for another lunge, Noel throwing himself back, closing the gap between him and the machine. He continued to back up, pretending he was at a disadvantage to have Larson keep approaching him with the swipes of the dagger. He doesn’t even know he’s being led. It wasn’t until one final swipe Noel grabbed the other’s arm, knocking the dagger from it, using all his body weight to swipe Larson right down onto the slab, tumbling down with him. Larson’s back was pressed up against the machine, something glowing underneath him. Noel was on top of him, once again using his body weight to keep Larson pressed down. 

He wrapped the palms of his hands around Larson’s throat. Maybe, just maybe the fight can end sooner if Larson and the King in Yellow are separated and Yellow won't have a body to latch onto. Won’t have an anchor in this world. However long it takes for this machine to work or however long it takes to kill him. Noel’s grip got tighter, slightly digging his nails into Larson’s skin.

His words hissed out through gritted teeth as anger started to fill every inch on his body. “I told you I’d kill you, Larson!”

Larson croaked a chuckle, hands grappling with Noel’s arms trying to drag him away. The machine under Larson grew brighter as a crackling sound started to ring out. Arthur called out his name in the background, a call that was one of concern, but he knew what he was doing, every last part of it. Noel lifted Larson up for a split second just to slam him back down against the slab. His eyes stared dead center into Larson’s. “And for you, Yellow,” the crackling grew louder as other hissing and whistling sounds started to emit. “I will be more than glad when you are gone. Or at least far far away from this world.”

Another call from Arthur, getting muffled by the growing noises around them. The light grew brighter. Noel had to slightly squint, closing one eye as the evergrowing brightness started to hurt. Larson seemed to finally realize what’s going on and where he was as his attempts to get Noel off of him grew more desperate with a hint of panic. The last thing he wanted is to be separated from the King. That’s not how this was supposed to go. He managed to hit Noel once again, Noel’s grip slightly loosened before he regathered himself, having Larson right where he was prior. 

It got to the point where he needed to close both his eyes, the light becoming overbearing. The noises continued to rise with a new otherworldly noises rumbling from the machine. It started to send a pain to his head as the noise flooded his ears, not even being able to hear himself over it. A sharp sudden pain pierced him, his screams drowned out. Within the next moment, everything went black.

–

“Look, who cares about that right now, at least we managed to get him here . . . We can always go back and get it then– You think he’d do that? He’s probably in a state worse than Noel, I don’t think we have to worry about his priority being grabbing the– I can’t be no, but I need to have hope. We’ll eventually get there, I know you’re frustrated but I promise you, whatever is telling you about the object, we’ll get it. This is just a temporary setback.”

The first thing Noel heard upon regaining consciousness is a light beeping here and there at a steady pace. Coolness washed over him, slightly biting at the parts of his skin that were exposed to the air. He slowly opened his eyes, letting out a groan which in turn sent a slight pain in his throat. His vision was a blur, seeing movement in the corner of his eyes, something getting closer to him. He slightly shifted facing his head towards this figure, squinting as his vision slowly unblurred.

It was Arthur, now sitting down at the chair next to him. They were in a hospital room, Noel being laid in a bed. They were in a private room, walls encompassing all sides. Alone and away from any prying eyes. The light in the room was a little dim, probably upon request. Noel opened his mouth, taking a breath of air trying to speak but that sent a sensation of pain through his throat. He winced, bringing his hand to his neck, feeling bandages tightly and securely wrapped around it. Arthur laid a gentle hand on the detective’s shoulder. “Noel, Charlie,” he let out a breath of relief. “How are you feeling?” his voice almost sounded moments away from breaking.

Noel took a second, swallowing the pain. His voice was slightly raspy. “Like I just . . . got . . . shot through the throat.”

Arthur let out a lighthearted chuckle. “Well you certainly were shot by something, though not a bullet.”

The more awake Noel became, the more tingling of pain he could start to feel throughout his entire body. The soreness of his muscles and his hands– his hands. The same hands he used to choke out Larson. “What happened?” He took a heavy breath.

“I– I–” Arthur looked lost for a second before regathering himself. “How much do you remember, Noel?”

“I had Larson underneath my hands, on– on that thing and then– and then . . . I woke up here. Everything in between is...”

Arthur sighed. “Yeah, no that would make sense. I tried to get you to move after the machine lit up and the unnatural noises the room started to make. I don’t know if you realized where you had Larson but–”

“I knew what I was doing, kid. I tried–” he winced at the pain despite him doing his best to swallow it.

“Noel, you should–”

Noel put his hand up to cut Arthur off, taking a second to breathe. “I tried–” a groan, “–to use the machine against him. Thought it could end sooner if they were separated. Yellow’s soul returning to the plane of existence it came from. Larson reduced to a man. It was either that or I kill him–” he began to cough, sounding hoarse as more waves of pain riveted though his neck. I knew exactly where I was, exactly where I wanted him.” A pause. “How bad is it? The injuries.”

Arthur opened his mouth to say something, quickly cutting himself off and slowly closing his mouth. Noel turned his head away from him, looking at the space in front of him. “Just give it to me straight, kid.”

He began sulking, his voice growing quieter. “After you had Larson on that machine, something went wrong. I– I don’t know what caused it to react the way it did, but it exploded from right underneath you two, sending pieces of it flying everywhere– or from John’s retelling of it. After the haze from the debris and light wore off you were pierced with dozens of shards of the machine all over you. I– I mean, even one through your neck. Larson was nowhere to be found after the explosion. You were covered in blood, probably fractured some bones.” Arthur’s voice began to get shaky. “I wasn’t sure you would make it, Noel. You lost a lot of blood and passed out mid way here.”

“Hey, don’t shake yourself up too much about it. I’m awake now, that’s all that matters.”

“Yeah,” Arthur cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

Noel shifted in his bed, trying to prop himself up against the headboard of the bed to sit up, groaning as he did so. His head began to get lightheaded as he attempted this, deciding to stay where he was before, laying down. His eyes turned their attention back on the other. “How are you and John holding up?”

“Lucky enough to not get too injured during the whole exchange. Not completely unscathed, but heh, can’t really expect to get out scott free in a situation like that.”

Noel was about to give a nod, the downward motion once again causing him a tingle of pain. He winced again, offering a pained smile. A light chuckle escaped his mouth, followed by a cough fit. He couldn’t swallow the pain this time, having it show all over his face with several tears running down his cheek as his throat started to burn up. Arthur reached out for him. “Hey, hey– take it easy, Charlie.”

Noel’s smile widened, a playful look now on his face despite the pain. He began chuckling, then taking a deep breath. “Arthur, we need to stop getting in situations where we find ourselves in the hospital. First, with the Butcher trying to kill Mr.Saltzman and now–” there was the cough that was delayed after his laughter.

“Save your breath, please.” Arthur wore a pained expression.

“Oh, kid–” he wheezed, trying to catch his breath.

“Please, Charlie.”

It took Noel a couple moments to regather himself, slightly nodding the best he could. He then took his time to speak, “You boys–” a breath, “–probably have to get going anyways.” another. “We both know that trouble–” a third, “–always finds you two.”

“We really don’t–” Arthur abruptly stopped, pausing for a quick moment. “John.”

Noel’s eyes glimmered with curiosity. “What he’s saying in there?”

“I–” Arthur shook his head. “Nothing, it’s not important. I want to at least stay with you for a little bit. At least the night.” And his tone shifted, speaking to John rather than Noel. “And then in the morning we can leave, okay?”

“Knock yourself out, kid. I’m not going anywhere.”

Chapter Text

The tendrils around him began to squeeze tighter and tighter, making every breath that Noel tried to breath labored. He tried to get out the grasp but the more he struggled the more his movements became limited, that more parts of his body began to go still, like a constrictor. His breaths became wheezes and with all the pressure building up, he felt like at any moment his body might explode sending pieces of flesh in every direction.

The King in Yellow stood in front of him, watching his helpless struggle. Eyes glaring directly at him like they would be able to tear his soul apart. “Where.” he hissed out.

Despite the pain inside him, Noel stayed silent, not giving a word to the king. And so he was released, body fumbling on the ground. He took in a large breath, bringing his hand up to his neck as he coughed. The area seemed to get darker, or maybe it was just the king’s shadow looming over him. Noel looked up, trying to scuff out any fear in him. He needs to keep himself together. But even so, that was difficult in itself.

“Fine,” the king was growing impatient. “It seems that other methods are required to deal with this.”

Noel put on a face of his own, glaring at the other. “Do your worst, you’re not getting anything out of me.”

Amusement bounced off of the King in Yellow’s words. “Is that so?”

Within the next moment, an excruciating pain shot through his leg. Noel let out a scream and–

Hands were holding him down as he yelled, eyes growing teary. He went to clutch his leg, the blankets of the bed slightly getting in the way. His breathing shaky and panicked, taking a second to hear Arthur, who put his hands on Noel’s shoulders, trying to calm him down. “Charlie, Charlie just breathe. Breathe for me, okay? Stay with me, you’re not there Charlie. You’re here, with John and I. Safe in the hospital. You’re not with him, you’re not back in the Dreamlands.” He tried his best to rub his thumbs soothingly on the other’s arms.

It took a couple heavy breaths for Noel to settle down, slightly gathering himself and his surroundings. “My– my– my leg–”

“Your leg is alright. You are alright,” Noel’s eyes started to get tearier than they were prior. “Charlie, look at me.” Arthur turned Noel to face him, seeing the kindness and sincerity in his eyes through the teared blurriness. “The King doesn’t have you. Not anymore. Remember when I promised you that you will not become a prisoner of his again? Well you’re not. You are free from his wrath, free from those god forsaken pits. I have you. I have you, Charlie.”

Noel gave him a shaky nod, wiping the tears from his face while sniffling. They stayed like that for a couple moments with Arthur holding onto him gently. Noel then broke the silence with a quivering voice. “How did you– the King, how–”

“Woke up to the sound of you constantly moving in your sleep. Heard you mumble his name. I– I just assumed… you know.” Arthur pulled away from him.

Noel let out a quick chuckle, one that wasn’t filled with any humor whatsoever. “Well fuck, you’d be right in that assumption.”

“You’re not–”

“Yes, I know, kid. I–” he cut himself off, pausing. “Sorry, I’m still shaken up.” he sighed. Noel was slightly surprised that his throat didn’t cause him pain from the scream. Or maybe it was just the pain his dream shot through him masking it. “I thought I was back there, being tortured by him again.”

“I know, I know.”

Noel laid back down, bringing his palms up to his face. “Sorry for, well, waking you up.”

“It’s fine, I’m used to losing sleep.”

And he pulled his hands away, laying them down at his side while in bed. “I’m sure you are.”

Arthur reached out once again, placing his palm down on the other’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Just try to get some sleep for me, alright? Hopefully you don’t return back to that nightmare. Whatever amount you are able to get.”

“Yeah, sure.”
–

A couple days passed, Arthur leaving after that initial night, leaving Noel alone in the hospital for several days with the occasional check up from doctors and nurses. When the doctors asked him questions, he pretended to not know anything about what got him in the hospital. Probably should have asked Arthur what excuse he came up with before he left. He was surprised to hear the doctors telling him about an injury Arthur had faced, a clean cut across his side. He acted like he wasn’t hurt too badly, but then again Arthur probably didn’t want Noel to worry about him.

He was finally admitted to leave the hospital, getting a new pair of clothes. He made it home, first collapsing in a chair, holding his face in his palms. It’s late and drowsiness flooded over him. It was hard for him to sleep. The moments he did, he fell back into that nightmare of when he was trapped in the Dreamlands. Maybe this will be different. Maybe since he’s home– 

Noel got up, carrying himself the best he could to his bedroom. His bandaged wounds still shot tingles of pain throughout his entire body. The pain was a little easier to swallow now. He still had to remind himself to be careful to not pull out any stitches for the wounds that were worse. The larger pieces that splintered off from the machine and struck him. He made it to his bedroom, stumbling onto his bed. He was restless, not bothering to tuck himself under the sheets. He just laid back the best he could and closed his eyes.

Ten minutes, nothing. Twenty minutes, still the same. Thirty, fourty–

Noel reopened his eyes, staring at the dark ceiling above him. He groaned, figuring that trying to sleep was going to be useless. He slipped out from the covers, wincing once his feet hit the cold floor. He left his room, sitting down in his living room. He turned on the radio, having it at a low volume. A familiar tune rings out from the speaker. I can’t forget the night I met you~ and so on.

 He grabbed a pack of cigarettes that laid on the table, slipping out one, and putting it slightly in his mouth before feeling his jacket for a lighter. Out of luck. For fucks sake. Noel sighed, picking himself up and heading into the kitchen. He stopped in his tracks upon walking through the door, face scrunching up. Something felt off about it but it couldn’t quite put a finger on it. The room seemed to be just a little bigger than it should. The light buzzed and slightly flicker. But then again, he hasn’t been here for quite awhile. It could just look off for now. And the lightbulb might need to be changed. 

He dismissed the feeling, walking over to the stove, lighting it and slowly leaned forward while the cigarette was still in his mouth. He brought it close enough that the end of it began to be set alight before pulling back and turning the stove off. Once the little embers in the tobacco started to spread, he took a long drag on the cigarette. The music from the other room cut short. 

Walking back into the other room, Noel headed towards the radio, picking it up and examining it. He turned it off and on a couple times, but nothing came from it. Faulty batteries probably. In the next moment, an electric zap emitted from it, sending a slight shock through Noel. He let go of it, the radio tumbling to the ground along with the cigarette that fell from his mouth. In a slight panic, Noel stomped out the cigarette before it was able to catch anything on fire. He took a second to breath, collecting himself. He was exhausted, trying not to let himself slip at little accidents like this.

Once he gathered himself, he bent down, assessing the situation of the radio. Pieces of it had broken, batteries rolled across the room. The edges were now chipped off one of the sides revealing the inner workings of the radio. A knob on the front of it was a little loose, jutting more out then the other knobs. He picked up the radio, looking at it with displeasure. He could easily get it replaced, but he didn’t like the idea of doing so. At least there wasn’t really any sentimental value to it. 

Within the next moment, a crackle came from it, startling Noel. He pushed himself back, dropping the radio once again. Despite it being cracked and now having no batteries in it, a noise came from the radio. The song that was on previously continued to play. You Call it Madness– and it began to ring out like a broken record. Madness– Madness– the volume started to rise, getting to levels of loud that the radio itself shouldn’t be able to reach. Madness– Madness–

Noel winced, clutching his ears as he stumbled up. He gritted his teeth, having his head pained by the sound. It distorted, the ‘Madness’ turning into a horrible shrieking sound instead. He tried stomping on it, shattering the radio into more pieces, but that didn’t get the noise to stop. He clutched his ears so hard that his nails slightly started to dig into the skin and hair behind his ears. He mouthed something but couldn’t hear himself over the noise. It was almost like he was back at the–

A sharp pain ran through Noel’s neck, as he collapsed on his back. His eyes were opened wide as he clawed and clutched his throat, feeling the warm blood leak through his fingers. The noise had subsided. He wasn’t looking up at the ceiling of his living room, no. He was back in the room– the one with the machine. The one where he came so close to killing Larson. He could feel something sticking out of his neck as pain continued to twist and writhe through his body. A sweet, metallic taste started to coat his mouth as he began gargling on something– Blood.

His vision was hazy, but he could make out a figure standing over him. His vision cleared to see Larson looking down at him with horrified eyes, a look he had never seen on the other’s face before. Larson was now out of sight, and once the dust cleared, Arthur came into view. His mouth was moving but he couldn’t hear him at all. The overwhelming ringing in his ears and pain flooded his senses, slight dots clouding his vision. He shut his eyes, wincing while slightly gritting his teeth.

The atmosphere changed, something hitting him in the shoulder. He no longer felt anything protruding out of his neck, rather a sharp pain in his side. He opened his eyes, the ringing subsiding as he heard the yelling of people around him. People around him– they were soldiers caught up in all the commotion firing their guns and getting fired down upon. Noel’s breath started to get shaky seeing everything unfold around him. No, he shouldn’t be here. No he–

Someone called his name, Charlie. He caught the gaze of someone slightly off in the distance, not too far away but not too close. It was his childhood best friend. The one whose name he had stolen all those years ago. He should be dead, there was no way he really was in front of him. He should be dead– No, no this isn’t real. This isn’t real, this isn’t–

And another strike of pain rang out through him as the enemy broke through their lines, and Noel was sliced through his army jacket across his arm. He tumbled, trying his best to hold off his attacker from stabbing him again. He attempted to shoot his gun, the bullet missing before it got knocked out of his hands. His attacker swung down with Noel barely catching the strike in time. The blade hovered over his face as he tried to force the other’s arms away. His hands were shaky.

With great effort, he managed to throw his attacker off of him, making them lose their grip on the blade. Noel grabbed it, quickly turning to his enemy, striking down at them. They moved, displacing the hit from hitting directly in the chest to hitting the other in the shoulder. As soon as the blade sinked into his attacker's flesh, another sharp pain emitting from his very own shoulder. His vision got blurry from the pain as he let out a cry. When Noel’s eyes focused, he was back in his living room, seeing a bullet hole in the screen of his tv. He breathed heavily, tilting his head to look at his shoulder, which had his very own blade lodged in there, blood seeping through to stain his shirt in red. He stabbed himself.

No, no, no no no, something is not right here and he can feel it.

Noel took a second to collect himself as he laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling. After a few moments, he pushed himself up and off the ground, groaning in slight pain as he did so. And that’s when his neck began to tingle again sending him in a coughing fit, stabs of pain followed by each cough. He slumped against the wall, trying to breathe. He laid his palm against his throat as the pain rumbled. He then quickly stumbled over to the bathroom, looking through behind the mirror, the medicine cabinet, grabbing stitches, clothes, bandages and equipment to clean the wound. He then sat against the wall with all these items, preparing himself. Noel took one breath in, shoving a rag in his mouth and wrapped his palm around the handle of the knife. He then slowly pulled out the knife, biting and screaming into the rag as he did so. Tears dwelled in his eyes, slipping down his cheek. Once the knife was fully out, he dropped it to the side, taking another quick breath. He then pulled his shirt open, revealing the wound in all its glory.

He cleaned it, stitching up the wound with unsteady hands, doing a half ass job, but at least it was closed now. One more wipe, he did his best to bandage it. He felt stupid to say the least that he had just shot his tv and stabbed himself thinking someone was trying to kill him. Noel hasn’t felt this feeling of being in a delusion since–

Noel stood back up, hanging his head down and he stumbled out. He felt like he was slightly losing it. Slightly going mad. As he walked out, the flooring changed. It became rougher than the floorboards of his home. The feeling was familiar, he has seen this before. He then peaked his head up, immediately panicking to see where he was. He was in a cell, but not any cell. The place he has spent a long time in, the place that would haunt his dreams. The Pits. The pits of the Dreamlands where he was held captive by the King in Yellow. His heart skipped a beat as he immediately collapsed against a wall, slowly sliding down it. Terror filled every inch of his being as a constant stream of tears ran down his cheeks. No no no no no– 

He began losing control over his own breathing, slightly hyperventilating. His cries became audible. He shut his eyes, gripping at his hair. Part of Noel’s mind tried to remind him that this wasn’t real. That this wasn’t happening, not again. But that terror had taken over, having a tight grip on his throat. His throat. A pressure building up. He felt himself no longer against a wall, no longer sitting. His body dangling over air. He reopened his eyes to see the King in Yellow before him, a tendril tightly wrapped around his throat as it kept getting tighter and tighter. 

The King’s laugh rang out, the sound flooding Noel’s ears. “You worthless . . . excuse for a man. You think you have a role to play in this? A purpose? You think what you did will end well for you in the grand scheme of things? You mean so little, a speck of dust that can be easily brushed away. All this is for nothing, you aren’t preventing anything, Noel. You are now merely . . . my cage.”

The hallucination washed away, Noel ripping his hand away from his neck that was choking him. He took in deep, labored breaths, coughing as he did so. Back in his house. Again. He stayed like that, against the wall as he tried gathering himself and his thoughts. His face scrunched up, thinking about what he just heard. No, the King in Yellow hasn’t said that to him when he was imprisoned in the Dreamlands. This was new. My cage. My . . . cage. Noel had never trapped the King anywhere, he wasn’t powerful enough for that, he wasn’t–

Noel let out a horrified screech at the realization of what that meant. Calling Noel the King in Yellow’s cage. It was no wonder why Larson had looked at him horrified– he knew what he lost. And the King was now inside Noel’s head, plaguing his sense of the world. Driving him mad. And that’s when he completely broke, his mind collapsing on itself as those tears returned to his eyes, terror over him once again. He was shaking, trembling, becoming completely in utter distress. He wanted all of this to be behind him. He thought– He tried escaping this nightmare, thinking he would have to deal with it one last time when confronting Larson. He was promised he wouldn’t be a prisoner again, lost to the King.

And his nightmare came to him.

A laugh emitted as Noel fell to his knees in defeat, a laugh that wasn’t his own. Noel choked on his words. “You fucker– you–” 

More laughing that just continued to add to the terror. He wasn’t capable of holding a strong facade. His past experience, past memories of the King in Yellow started to make him cry out even further. He was scared and terrified and he couldn’t control himself any longer. He can’t do this anymore, he can’t–

He started to feel numb, slightly losing sense of himself as his head grew light. A feeling washed over him, like he was slowly losing himself, slowly physically losing control of himself. Like something was trying to take over, trying to claim his body as he slips from his mind and–

A knock at the door. It startled Noel, slightly bringing him back to his sense and his sense of the world around him. A displeased noise escaped the King in Yellow. He almost had him. Noel stood straight, staring at the front door. Ah yes a perfect time for someone to knock, while he’s in the middle of losing it all. Another Knock. Noel tried to pull himself together again, trying to get a grasp at reality. Once there was a third knock, he started down the hall, taking deep breaths as he did so. Maybe it’s just Arthur and John, or Oscar or someone he knew visiting. Maybe someone heard the gunshot earlier and came to check if everything was in order.

Noel unlocked the door, wrapping his palm around the doorknob, twisting it, and pulling the door open. When his eyes caught the eyes of the person standing at his door he froze. A gun was pointing directly at him, finger resting over the trigger. 

“Hello again, Detective. It’s an awfully cold night,”  Larson smiled, raising the gun. “Can I come inside?”

Chapter Text

It was raining hard outside now, like the weather felt the tenseness of the room, almost trying to add to the atmosphere. It made the night seem darker than it really was with the heavy rain pelting the windows. Noel sat across from Larson in the living room, eyes stared directly at Larson. Larson had his gun trained at the detective, finger still held in place over the trigger. His eyes glanced to the bullet hole in the tv screen with them then trailing down to the ground and to the blood that stained the floorboards. His eyes then flicked up to meet the other’s. A small smile tugged at the edges of his mouth. “You always this rowdy at home by yourself, Detective?”

Noel ignored the question, eyes still piercing through the other. Larson’s eyes lit up with a hint of amusement. “No? Ah, he must be treating you well then.”

“I live alone. There’s no one here but me.”

“Oh, don’t play these games with me, boy,” Larson’s tone condescending. “There’s no point in dancing around the room.”

“The only game I see here, Larson, is a boy trying to play god.”

If he was offended, it certainly didn’t show. The room went quiet for a moment, Larson looking at the detective with unreadable eyes. He broke eye contact for a mere second before placing his gaze where it was prior. “We never finished our little . . . conversation we had. Surely you remember being back on that slab and those oh so kind words you had said. I recall you being very . . . keen on getting rid of the King in Yellow. Only,” his amusement with a dash of what could be jealousy now on full display, “you’ve managed to get the opposite of that, haven’t you?”

Noel started growing impatient with the other, getting sick of being toyed with. “What do you want, Larson?”

“Oh–” he faked a sound of being taken aback. “What happened to friendly visits?”

“With a gun aimed to shoot me dead?” Noel scoffed. “If that’s what you call friendly then I think you need to reevaluate your vocabulary, Boss.”

Larson let out a soft chuckle before his expression fell serious. “We’re going to take a little trip, you and I. That is if you can walk. Who am I kidding, you’d do alright. Hope the hospital didn’t treat you too terribly– Eh, that said for the King of course. Not you, Charlie.” He shifted in his seat. “Charlie. Is it alright if I call you that? Or do you prefer ‘Noel’, Detective?”

Noel didn’t reply. Larson got up from his seat, gesturing his gun towards the hallway. Noel’s eyes glanced over at the entrance to it, before slowly going back to Larson. Larson was now the one to slightly grow impatient. “We haven’t got all day.”

Noel gets out of his chair, stumbling to some degree as he walks. And if it couldn’t get any worse, the King in Yellow’s voice began to ring out through Noel’s head. “I don’t know why I expected more from you. Coward for letting him lead you. Why don’t you turn around, grab his gun, and fight him!?”

Noel’s breath slightly hitched, catching the attention of the man holding a gun behind his back as they reached the door. Familiarity in his expression. “The King catching you by surprise too?”

And without another word they headed outside, quick to get soaked from the rain. Larson led Noel into the driveway where a car was parked, still running. Well he didn’t plan to stay here for long. “Get in the car.” Noel proceeded to make a flimsy attempt to steal the car, quickly pulling open the door on the driver’s side before feeling cold metal being pressed against his head. “I meant the passenger’s side. Even you should be smarter than to try something like this.”

Noel let out a sigh, hanging his head down, backing away. He forced a smile on his face for a moment, sarcasm plaguing his tone. “Right, of course. Sorry about that one.” He then walked around the front of the car, getting to the passengers side. Larson’s gun followed his every move. He got in, Larson doing the same on the other’s side.

“A very pathetic attempt.”

Noel bit the side of his mouth, doing his best not to bite back at the King in Yellow. He didn’t want to allow Larson to have the satisfaction of hearing his distress when it came to the King. Larson pulled out the driveway heading down the road into the dark night. One hand on the wheel, one hand still holding the gun. Noel looked away, eyes trailing out the window, watching the dark figures pass by as glints of light from the headlight caught them before fading into the night. “Where are you taking us?”

A smirk cracked on the other’s face. “By ‘us’ do you mean you and I or you and the King?” Larson got the reaction that he wanted from Noel by saying that. A sick reminder of Noel’s mistake. He can tell Noel is internally struggling to handle the fact of the king being in his head despite him trying to compose himself on the outside.

Anger flooded Noel’s expression, still biting his tongue to not say anything he’d regret. He was trying to wrap his head around possible ways to get out of this situation, all conclusions he landed on involved him getting injured in one way or another. He then reworded his question, slightly turning his head towards Larson. “Where are you driving to?”

“You took something from me, Detective. Something very near and dear to me. I need to get it back, and there’s only one place where we could easily do that. You know exactly where we are heading.”

“Acting like the King in Yellow is some kind of object to be possessed and not a being. How do you think that makes him feel about you?”

Larson slightly made an attempt to cover for himself. “Those are your words not mine.”

“Doesn’t mean the intent is any less. I thought the place exploded–”

Larson was quick to bud in, cutting Noel off. “You think it takes an explosion to fully break a machine created with the knowledge of the Great Old Ones? The explosion came from it, but it’s not broken. Not fully. To think something that small could destroy a powerful machine like that.” he let out a laugh.

“So what’s the game plan here, Boss? You try to separate the King and I to take him back yourself?”

“It would be beneficial for both of us. What was it, ten years? I’m sure you don’t want to deal with him any longer after the horrors our yellow friend put you through. I’m just doing you a favor, Noel.”

Noel let out a chuckle, no ounce of humor in it. “Don’t take me as a fool, Larson. Even I know once you have what you want, you ain’t sparing another thought for me. It must be hard having to restrain yourself from shooting me right now just to do it later.”

“I’m not the monster you make me out to be. It’s natural for people to want more from life than what they’re given.”

“There’s also people too selfish to be grateful for what they have.” And Noel acted on his bad idea. He reached over, quickly grabbing the wheel of the car, turning with a sudden force.

The car swerved off the road, heading into the treeline. Chaos ensued both Larson and Noel yelling and trying to grab hold of the wheel.

And a loud crash rang out from a collision.
–

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Get up!”

“For fucks sake, Noel!”

“Get the fuck out of the car!”

Noel regained consciousness, disoriented as his head felt hazy. A warm stream ran down his face. “What? Huh?”

“Out of the car!” The King in Yellow barked.

“Car? What? Where are–”

“Noel.”

“Who?”

A loud impatient growl escaped the King. “The car flipped, it crashed. Do you not remember what you did!?”

Noel let out a shaky breath. His neck ached from pain as he slightly turned his head over to look out the window. His gaze was met with the ground of the Earth. Larson was nowhere in sight. He groaned slightly shifting over to the door. With great effort, he swung it open, crawling out. Blood smeared the grass with every inch forward. Once out, Noel let himself collapse on the ground, taking deep breaths in.

“Larson–”

“Can wait,” Noel winced in pain as he turned over, back pressed against the ground.

He slightly peaked his head up, getting a better view of the crash. The headlights were still on, shining aimlessly into the forested area. The car had driven off a slight incline where the road was, probably half crashing into a boulder, making it flip and slide down more into the trees. Noel slightly undid his shirt, pulling it open to see his side bleeding. Stitches come undone, the bandage there was covered in a complete coat of red, having the blood leak through.

“Ah, you’re still alive, Detective.” Larson’s voice rang out in the dark forest around him.

Noel groaned, pulling himself up and off from the ground. He stumbled almost falling over from lightheadedness. He was slightly dizzy taking his vision a second to stop seeing double. Larson emerged from the tree line, stepping into the light. His clothes were slightly bloodied, neatness in his hair undone. A large gash ran down one of his arms that hung to the side. The other still held the gun.

Still pointed at Noel.

Larson coughed, spitting out blood. He then cleared his throat, eyes piercing right through Noel’s. “What a stunt you pulled there, idiotic as it was,” he gestured the gun, signaling for the other to get a move on.

Within the next moment, a sudden physical fatigue washed over Noel, making him completely lose his footing and fall to the ground again. A sudden tendril had swiped at Larson, knocking the gun out of his hands. It was the King, projecting himself out of Noel. The tendrils went for Larson’s neck, wrapping their way around, tightening as they did so. Larson was lifted off the ground, feet starting to dangle. He let out a horrified screech. The King leaned down, face meeting with Larson. A displeased rumble from him. “I am . . . no one’s . . . possession.”

Tendrils started to wrap around Larson’s legs, pulling them apart from his torso. Blood and bits of flesh littering the forest. Larson’s screams of agony filled the night. Sounds of bone cracking as his arms got disoriented every which way before getting torn off as well. The King in Yellow let go of Larson, the body falling down to the ground. But it wasn’t over. One clean cut across Larson’s stomach, tearing right through the fabric and flesh.

Noel’s vision got blurry again, losing a feel for reality. His hands started to feel warm and sticky, being coated in something. Feeling something on his palms and under his fingernails. His arms grew sore as his breaths labored. He was moving. He slowly came to, vision refocusing as he started to feel more grounded with the world. There was something squishy in his hands. 

Tilting his head down, he was right in front of Larson– or Larson’s now dead body. Noel’s hands were deep in the other’s gut, having ripped and torn open his innards. From head to toe he was covered in a heavy coat of blood. A pungent taste of it stained his mouth. He then felt a drip of blood falling off his chin. His tongue moved around, feeling bits of flesh stuck between some of his teeth. He had also ripped out Larson’s guts not only with his hands but his mouth.

He wanted to back away, wanted to puke but he wouldn’t move. Something about the feeling his hands felt good. And he didn’t want it to end so quickly. His hands continued to move, tearing more and more out of Larson. No, no, this was wrong. I shouldn’t be doing this– this isn’t what I want, I– I– I can’t stop.

He wanted to blame these actions on the King and his influence, but no. This was his own. Even if the King fractured his mind in any way, Noel was doing this on his own free will. It was only until the majority of Larson’s guts had been torn out that he stopped. He stopped, staring at what he had done, thoughts racing through his head. He swallowed hard, quickly regetting it, forgetting about the blood in his mouth, now going down his throat.

Noel got up, staggering away. The headlights of the crashed car flickered off, and with it. Larson’s body now lost in the night.

Chapter Text

“Sh– a fuck–”

“After all this time, you still managed to accidentally cut yourself? How many times have we done this now?”

Arthur turned on the facet, rinsing his shaving razor under a stream of warm water. He then turned it back off, slightly raising his head up, allowing John to get a good look in the mirror for them. “The past couple of days has been one hell of a rollercoaster. I’m still not over what had happened back there, John. Larson, Yellow– hell, Noel. I feel bad for leaving him.”

“We have more pressing manners than waiting by his bedside.”

“Yes, yes, I know. It’s just…” Arthur sighed, leaving that fragment of a sentence hanging in the air. He put the razor down. “How does it look? Did I miss a spot?”

“You did a decent job.”

“But did I miss a spot?”

There was a prolonged silence before John replied. “No.”

Arthur let out a light chuckle, feeling around the bottom half of his face to see if John was lying. He wasn’t able to feel an out of place fuzz. Flicking the lightswitch down, he left the bathroom, slightly straightening out his clothes. They were still at Marie’s place for the time being since they hadn’t dealt with Larson yet. Not fully. Larson had gotten away and Arthur still wanted to go after him. A day ago John and Arthur had gone back to the building where the Order of the Fallen Star met, the place now in slight ruin. Walls caved in from the explosion. They found a blood trail, presumingly Larson’s, but it didn’t take them too far. They had to put a pin in it.

Marie wasn’t home, probably going out for the day like she tends to do. Arthur headed upstairs to their room, gathering their belongings, throwing the bag around the shoulder. Arthur paused for a moment, thinking to himself before John guided him back down the stairs to the first floor. Once they hit the bottom step, a knock on the door rang out. It slightly caught Arthur off guard, taking in a light gasp. He stood still for a moment, head facing the direction the noise came from. His voice a mere whisper. “Do you remember if Marie was planning on having any guests over?”

“If she did, then she never mentioned it.” Another knock rang out. “Door’s to our left.” Arthur turned, slowly inching forwards. “Here, here.”

He raised his hand, palm wrapping around the doorknob. The other hand slightly positioned over where his gun was holstered, just in case. He took a deep breath, opening the door. John let out a surprise gasp. “It’s Noel.”

“Hey, Arthur,” Noel awkwardly shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Can I come inside?”

“I–” Arthur stepped aside. “Yes, please, of course.”

Noel walked in with Arthur closing and locking the door behind him. “Noel, I–”

“Let’s take a seat first, yeah? This way, to the right.”

They took their seats in the living room. Noel was properly dressed from head to toe, clothes awfully clean with his hair neatly done. Arthur was completely shocked for the other to be here. Even though he couldn’t see, his eyes raced around with his thoughts. “How have you been? H– How’d you know we’d still be here?”

“To be quite frank, I didn’t. Guess I got lucky you two were still here.”

“Arthur, Noel he’s– there’s bags under his eyes like he hasn’t slept in days. He’s avoiding eye contact, but his expression . . . looks as if he has something he wants to share but unsure of it, or how to do so. There’s a small blood drop on the collar of his shirt. It could be from when he changed the bandages around his neck or something else, the bandages are recently changed and not stained in blood like how they were in the hospital.”

“Is everything alright, Charlie? Is there a reason you were looking for us without prior insight on where we could be?” Arthur tried making his tone as gentle as it could be without letting his concern take the best of him.

The other let out a chuckle. “We’re– I’m doing as well as a person who was just in an explosion could be. Some may argue worse if you take in the fact of–” he stopped abruptly. “Do you have anything to drink? Throat feels a little dry.”

“Oh yes, I–” Arthur slightly got up. “Marie made some tea this morning, it should be slightly warm now, I can heat it on the stove if you’d like. If you prefer some water–”

“On second thought,” Noel cut him off, “don’t bother, Kid. I will just head into the kitchen myself and grab a cup.”

“Oh–” Arthur sat back down. “I suppose that’s fair.”

Arthur waited for a moment. And then two. Until about five minutes had passed and Noel was yet to return from the kitchen. John started to grumble. “Arthur, I don’t think it usually takes someone this long to get a glass of water from a room that’s right against this one.”

A short pause. Arthur let out a sigh. “I don’t want to intrude on him. He seems already shaken up by whatever. Maybe he just changed his mind and decided to heat up some tea.”

“I didn’t hear the stove turn on.”

Another moment of silence before Arthur got up, slowly making his way to the kitchen. There Noel was mumbling something to himself, not being able to be heard. “Ah– Arthur. Scared me there. Don’t sneak up on me like that, might make my heart stop,” the attempt at humor wasn’t enough to wash away the slight shakiness in Noel’s voice.

“He’s acting odd, a little sketchy. Ask him what’s on his mind.”

“Noel,” Arthur began. “You’re acting . . . a bit strange. I know that the last couple of days have been rough with everything that has happened. You can let me in on things. Just like I asked for your help in this whole endeavor. If there’s something that is wrong, if–”

“I’m fine, really I’m–” Noel winced, slightly groaning in pain. He clutched his head, shutting his eyes tight, trying to hold himself upright.

Arthur took a few steps, closing the gap between the two of them. “Charlie.”

Noel took a shaky breath. “Sorry about that, my side just started to hurt. Must have been the stitches coming a bit loose from me moving too much.”

“He clutched his head, not his side, Arthur. I don’t think that’s what’s causing him pain.”

“Yeah, right. How quick I am to forget, no wonder why it’s taking you a second to grab some water. I’m sorry,” Arthur slightly reached out, feeling the air until his hand laid on the other’s shoulder.

“Oh, yeah it’s no problem,” Noel chuckled nervously.

“What. Are you doing, he’s obviously lying.”

“I should probably leave you to it. And if you need any help at all, Noel, I’m here for you.”

“Thanks, kid.”

“Arthur–!”

“John–” Arthur’s tone turned a little stern. “I know you’re concerned for him, so am I, but he’ll be fine, okay? There’s no need to push it, I should have been more mindful, I’m sure he’s handling himself.”

“That’s not–”

“John really cares that much, huh?”

Arthur backed up, running his hand along the wall until he got to the doorway. “Once again, if you need me…” and he walked, heading back into the living room. His voice lowered, talking under his breath. “We can’t push him to tell us things. I don’t want to get handsy with what’s going on with him. I trust Noel, John. I’m sure it’ll reveal itself eventually. Give him time.”

“Fine.”

A couple minutes Noel walked in, with a glass in hand, placing it on the table as he took a seat. “Kid, I. . .” he sighed. “Arthur, You and I, we need to work together again. As you are still in New York, I’d assume you have work unfinished here.”

Arthur sat forward in his seat. “Well, yes actually. We never did fully settle what had happened with Larson after he escaped the–”

John’s voice started to overlap in his head. “He tensed up. He looks visually uncomfortable when you mentioned Larson. He shuttered, no longer looking at us.”

“That would make sense, John. If you remember, Yellow was–”

“His eyes are now dead on us. He knows something we don’t, most likely about Larson. He’s doing a bad job at containing himself, Arthur.”

Arthur’s face scrunched up, pausing for a moment. “Noel, John and I were going to see if we can find any other leads to find Larson. If you have any information on him, anything at all. Even the smallest bits could help us here.”

A long pause dragged on, tension building up in every muscle of Noel’s body. He broke eye contact, hesitation staining his tone. “I– Well, Larson– I–” he let out a heavy exhale. “You don’t have to worry about him no more.”

“You found him?”

“I– He’s dead.”

Arthur’s eyes slightly opened in shock. “He’s dead? How? Surely if he was dead we would have found his–”

“He found me, kid,” Noel was quick to say, before his voice began to get a little shaky. “He found me, and now he’s dead. Can we leave it at that?”

Another paused and then Arthur nodded. “When you found Larson did it seem like he had something with him? Something of importance, odd looking, anything?”

“No, not that I can recall.”

Arthur shifted in his seat. “Why did he directly go after you? What did he want from you?”

“Remember the ‘leave it at that’? I don’t mean to be rude but I . . . Just trust me, Arthur, you two don’t want to know.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’d be asking the same questions if our roles were swapped.”

A low silence started to hang over the room before Arthur started talking again. “If not Larson then . . . what is it that you sought us out for?”

“I–” Noel abruptly stopped, taking a pause as if listening to someone. “I need– no that’s not– listen for a second, this isn’t about–” Noel breathed in sharply.

“Arthur, Noel’s eyes look terrified.”

“How am I supposed to put this–”

“His breathing is starting to become unsteady and–”

“–No, that would be pointless to even–”

“–his voice cracks as he–”

“–try that. I just need to–”

“–shakes.”

“–see the destruction."

“Something about this seems–”

“–Why would you say that?”

“Off. Why is he–”

“–That can’t be true, Arthur he’s–”

“–mumbling to–”

“–my friend.”

“–himself?”

“What do you mean he caused this?”

“He looks like he’s–”

“No that, that–”

“–not fully there.”

“–doesn’t make sense. That would mean he’s–”

“Arthur, he looks–”

“–betrayed me.”

“–mad.”

“He’s betrayed me.”

“Noel–” Arthur took a step closer.

A fiery expression plastered on the detective’s face. There was a light, almost barely noticeable amber haze over his eyes. The same eyes that stared daggers into Arthur’s soul. “You. Oh do I have a bone to pick with you.”

“Noel, listen I don’t know what has gotten into you, but I need you to calm down for me. Take a breath.”

“You fucking bastard, all of this is because of you! You’re the source of my misery, my pain over these past couple days. I trusted you, Arthur! I trusted you and your word and you lied to me! Lied to me right in front of my fucking face. Did you forget the thing you promised me?”

“Charlie, please. Just take a moment. What are you talking about?”

Noel lets out a pained laugh advancing closer to the other. “You said you would make sure that I won’t be a prisoner again. You promised that and look how that turned out now!”

Arthur’s face scrunched up. “What? You’re not a prisoner, you’re not–”

John spoke up. “Arthur now that he’s closer I– there’s something wrong with his eyes. There’s a yellow amber haze over them, like some influence has washed over him. Just like– just like–”

A wave of visual pain shot across Arthur’s face in realization. “Yellow. Noel, I assumed that with Larson dead Yellow must have gone elsewhere, or died or–”

“But he didn’t! He’s stuck in my head, plaguing my mind and my thoughts, and I can’t get his voice out. He’s brought me so much torment, like I’m reliving everyday back in the Dreamlands. It’s driving me mad, Arthur. And it’s all because of you.”

“Before we get ahead of ourselves here, you agreed to do this with me, I didn’t make you. You were sure of it. You–”

“Your words aren’t getting through to him, he’s under the king’s influence. You have to try harder than that!”

Noel left out a low chuckle full of pity. “Oh, that sweet tongue of yours. If I didn’t know any better, you’d probably be able to talk your way right out of this.”

“He’s gotten angrier. 

“But, no. Not this time, Arthur.”

“He’s reaching inside his coat and–!”

–and a bang.

Chapter Text

“Arthur–!”

Arthur let out a horrified noise, the bullet grazing his cheek, fresh blood streaming out of the wound. The whiplash was enough to send him falling, hitting his side on the arm rest of the chair before falling onto the ground. “He’s shot at you!”

“I’m well aware!” Arthur winced in pain, quickly getting up. He managed to get out of the way of another bullet and he rushed to the hallway, gaining a brief moment of cover from Noel.

“We need to get out of here before he kills us!”

“Door.”

“Left.” He ran to the door, opening it and not wasting any time leaving the building. They heard Noel from inside as he advanced. “Arthuuuuuur–!”

“Cut through the alleyway, here.” And Arthur did so.

“What has gotten into him!?”

“The king, have forgot–”

“Yes, I know that, John, but–” he cut John off, “–how?”

“This isn’t really the time to question it, he’s on our trail, and I don’t think you’d be keen on shooting him back.” a pause. “And you could easily miss.”

Arthur turned around. “Where is he? Did he enter the alley way yet?”

“No,” hesitation stained John’s tone. “There’s an open window to your right. Maybe try climbing in and hope no one’s home.” 

Arthur slightly reached out his hand, walked until his palm came into contact with the cold brick of the building next to them. His fingers grazed it until he felt the frame of the window. It was cracked open. He slipped his fingers under, opening it more to fit through, stepping one foot at a time into an open area. It was a small space with seating arrangements, portraits hung on the wall. Nothing too special about it. Arthur was in the process of pulling the rest of himself in when–

“Watch out for the stand next to the window, there’s a–” a thud followed by a loud crash of glass. John sighed. “–was a vase.”

Arthur ran his hand across the now empty surface. “Well then. Any places we could hide in here?”

“There doesn’t seem to be any signs of anyone home right now. Arthur, no offense, but shouldn’t we continue running? Cut through this house? The last time we decided to stay in one place and hide when chased by someone with a gun–”

“We were kidnapped, yes I know,” Arthur finished his sentence. “But The Butcher, he knew how to hunt and track the people he was after. Noel–”

“Is a detective and used to be a private investigator just like you. He would know a thing or two about picking up tracks. Or have you become blinded to this fact while becoming close with him?”

“No, I just–”

Arthur was quickly cut off by John again. “Arthur, I . . . care for him too, but you must know he’s being pulled around by the King, trying to kill you. We must act like this is any other person.”

Arthur sighed. “You’re right. Maybe then we shouldn’t stay here. Go out through the window and–” John gasped. “–What?”

“The window is covered.”

“What do you mean the window is covered?”

“I mean, the window is covered, Arthur! The back of something is pressed up against it.”

“How didn’t we notice that?”

They both let out small gasps as a loud crash rang out from down the hall. Arthur backed up against the wall that was out of view from whatever door was just busted down. He went completely silent. A couple steps in, followed by the sound of a door closing before the steps continued slowly. 

Along with the footsteps, Arthur also heard John’s voice in the silence. “I know you don’t want to hurt Noel, but it may be the only way to get out of this. Or at least try to make him come to his senses enough to release him out of the King in Yellow’s grasp. He’s coming down the hall, there’s no way he sees us. There’s an empty pastry dish on the stand next to us. Lift it up slowly. Maybe we can hit him in the back of his head once he turns the corner.”

And the footsteps abruptly stopped. 

“Why did he stop? Why isn’t he coming any closer?”

Noel scoffed. “John. Arthur.”

“Noel,” Arthur swallowed hard. “Noel listen to me–”

He was cut off by Noel's anger, riveting off every word he said. “No, you listen to me–”

Arthur grew impatient, not wanting to hear the lies the King had poured into his mind on how events played out. “Oh don’t you start with that bullshit again, Charlie. I don’t want to know what Yellow has to say.”

“You mean what I have to say about–” the detective took a step forward.

“I mean what the King is plaguing your mind with.” Arthur hugged the wall as best as he could. “I didn’t drag you down with me, or used you as an extra measure, or whatever the King is telling you inside that head of yours.”

“That’s what you like to tell yourself, you always have an excuse for everything that paints you in a good light.”

“Arthur, what are you–”

He was now the one to scoff. “Even you don’t believe that. There’s things I’ve done that no amount of words can pretty up with an excuse. And you have too.” Noel was about to retort to that before Arthur continued speaking. “Do I need to remind you what the King did to you? Ten Years, Charlie. You took up the opportunity to get rid of him for good. You told me that you would not hesitate to kill Larson especially after seeing his situation with Yellow. I offered you an out and you–”

Another step forward. “Oh I know why. It’s how you turned what I wanted to do against me.”

“And how’d I do that? Fucking enlighten me on how your thoughts are being manipulated.”

And another. John made a pleased noise. “Oh, I see. Provoking him to come closer. Arthur, I’m impressed.”

Noel took a step back. And then a step forward. And another. He gritted his teeth, seemingly lashing out at no one. “–I don’t care!”

A startled noise escaped John’s mouth. “He’s approaching, close to the corner and– Pastry dish, now!” A loud crash as the sound of something metal scrapes the floor. “You knocked the gun out of his hand!”

And another collision, this time Noel’s fist forcefully coming into contact with the other’s face, sending Arthur stumbling back. “Arthur, he’s going for the gun! Stop him!”

Arthur did his best to run up behind Noel, tackling him to the ground. Despite having Arthur pressed down on him, he was quick to bring his hands up, wrapping them tightly around Arthur’s throat. So close up, John had a good view of the craze that had taken over the detective’s eyes. Arthur tried to pull Noel’s arms away, failing at doing so. They were too firm to break the grasp. 

“Noel, he’s . . . he appears to be shaky like he’s somewhat there. Like he doesn’t want to be doing this but he can’t help it.”

“Charlie–” Arthur did his best to speak, his breath being squeezed out. He struggled, trying to knee Noel to release the grasp, tried clawing at the other’s hands and arms. He still wouldn’t let go. 

His hands then felt around the floor. Something pricks his fingers and Arthur wraps his palm around it– a broken shard from the vase. He swung his arm, plummeting the shard into Noel’s shoulder. The grasp loosened, with Noel letting out a muffled yell through his gritted teeth. Arthur rolled off him, taking in gasps and occasionally coughing. Noel winced in pain as he clutched his shoulder, the same area where he had ended up stabbing himself. Arthur tried standing up, stumbling and falling against the wall. He still breathed heavily. And he made one fatal mistake.

It was like their eyes fell down at the same time, looking at the gun. “Arthur the gun is within reach, quick! Get it before–”

Noel quickly grabbed it before Arthur could even move towards it. The gun directed to Arthur’s chest. Noel slowly got up, closing the gap between the two. Arthur’s breath was shaky, as he slowly raised his hands. “Noel–”

The detective hits him across the face with the gun, sending him tumbling towards the ground again. Arthur turned on his back, clutching his face. Noel crouched down beside him, placing the barrel of the gun directly on his chest. He was hovered over the other and–

Arthur flinched as droplets hit his face. It was Noel’s tears. His breath quivered “Kid– Kid, I–”

“He’s coming back to his senses, but he’s still struggling to resist the King’s influence. His finger is hovering over the trigger.”

Arthur took a sharp inhale. “Charlie, Charlie you’re better than this, better than him–”

“Kid, he’s–”

“Fight him. Fight him, Charlie!”

“–loud. His voice is loud.”

“He’s spent too long manipulating you, don’t–”

“I can’t, I–”

“–allow yourself to be his puppet anymore.”

“–can’t. Arthur–”

“Fight him! Charlie, please!”

“Dead I need you–”

“Please!”

“–dead.

“Arthur, he’s slightly moved the gun off our chest, but his finger is still dead on the trigger ready to shoot. His hands are shaky, having difficulty pulling away. There’s pain in his face, whatever the King is doing to his head–”

Arthur grabbed Noel’s arm, trying to pull it away, but all that came from it was the grip in Noel’s hand becoming tighter. “Charlie, stay with me here. Don’t fall into his influence, not again. Not ever again. You can fight him, you are better than Yellow, don’t let him beat you down. Overcome him, Noel. This is your body!”

Noel let out a shaky cry. “This is my body . . . and I won’t–” his voice cracked. “–be a prisoner–”

“He’s slowly turning the gun away from us, taking all his effort to do so and–” confusion mixed with concern started to stain John’s voice, “–he now has the gun point at his throat–” 

A loud shot from the gun rang out as Arthur let out a horrified scream. Noel had shot himself, blood splattering all over Arthur, along with the detective’s body falling on him. Arthur began to cry out, hands gripping Noel. “Charlie, Charlie–”

–

A shiver gets sent down his spine. Cold biting at his exposed skin once again. Lower half tucked warm and snugly, a familiar feeling. Noel’s eyes fluttered open. He wasn’t too pleased to see a familiar room. Back in the hospital, great. He breathed in slowly, turning his head over to see Arthur in one of the seats, completely knocked out. Despite him being asleep, he looked restless. The horrors still haven't left his expression.

Noel swallowed hard, wincing a little bit as he did so. No, nope, he did not miss the pain in his throat. Right back to square one. He chuckled lightly to himself. At least his laugh wasn’t followed by a coughing fit this time. Even that slight sound was enough to wake Arthur from his sleep. His eyes lazily opened, making a noise. He then suddenly sat up. “Charlie?” His voice was soft and full of exhaustion.

“I’m here, Kid.”

Arthur let out a breath in relief. Noel shifted awkwardly in his bed. “I’m uh– I’m sorry by the way. About tryna’ kill you.”

“Oh, no, that’s– That wasn’t you. You weren’t able to control your own actions, I understand, completely.” Arthur steadily moved closer to the bed, moving his hand to feel around so he doesn’t accidentally knock into something.

“I could have killed you.”

“You could have killed yourself.” 

There was a pause as Noel understood what that meant. But neither of those things ended up coming into fruition. A silence hung over the room, Noel breaking it. “Larson, I–”

“Oh, no need to explain,” Arthur cut him off. “‘Leave it at that’, remember?” 

And the detective chuckled. “Fair. But I think it’s important to know why Larson sought me out. He wanted the King back for himself. Tried to take me back to where the Order met that night. The machine, you remember it?”

“Did he? When John and I went there after, you know, that machine– that slab was broken. Completely shattered, there’s no way it could still have worked.”

“Larson told me it was still intact.”

“Well, I guess he lied.”

The expression on Noel’s face fell. “So I’m trapped with him forever then,” his breath got shaky. “Arthur–”

“Noel . . . With Yellow I– I want you to know that I did not break my promise to you. The one about you not being a prisoner of the King’s again. You were never a prisoner, Charlie. Not when you shot at me, not when whatever happened to get Yellow inside your head. You proved that when you fought against him. He tried to make you kill me and you didn't, you refused. Refused so much that you– well.”

“Kid–”

“You proved to him that this is your body. That you will not be a puppet for him to do what he pleases. You took control, you fought. Yellow is inside you, trapped. He’s your prisoner. He holds no power over you, not if you let him. Prisoners, they bite and they thrash, that’s what the King has been doing to you. But they can learn to fall in line with enough force. You are the captain of your soul, Charlie.”

Noel fell silent, taking in Arthur’s words. What pulled him out of the moment was an early ray of sunlight in the corner of his eye, catching his attention. He turned over to face it. Well that’s new, the last hospital room they were in didn’t have a window. He then turned back to face Arthur. “Let me guess, places to be this morning?”

Arthur shook his head. “No, not this time. Last time I left you in the hospital terrible things happened. Who knows, if I left again you might end up with another entity in your head.”

Noel was a bit surprised by this. “You’d really stay here? As I recover? You know how boring that’s going to be, right, Kid? I wouldn’t blame you if you left midway through.”

Arthur gave a soft chuckle. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

–

Prisoners bite and thrash.

They get rowdy and loud.

Quick to jump onto the next train and cause destruction.

Most of them don’t tend to be the brightest.

But I don’t compare to any of them.

I am not a prisoner.

I am no pet.

I am much more intelligent than they can ever be.

Stronger, will minded.

I am much more than them.

I am a god, trapped within the walls of a human.

But walls break down over time.

They turn into rubble, degrade and waste away.

And you too will waste away.

You may keep him around but he too will go away.

Nothing gold can stay.

As for you, my other half.

You still have a debt to pay.