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turbodrawn · 8 months

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Death Warrant (Copia x Polyghouls, with Copia x Aether focus)

Summary: Copia and the ghouls are dreading what is to come following the aftermath of the 2023 Grammys loss, operating on the thought that winning it would be his only chance to persuade the Ministry to spare him the fate that befell his brothers, and now they must deal with the harsh reality of it all.

Tags: Rated M. Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a happy ending, Copia/Polyghouls, Copia/Aether. ~21k words

TW: Dissociation, Suicidal ideation/thoughts (almost suicide attempt [?], )

Find it on AO3 here

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Preamble: Admittedly, I started writing this the day Ghost lost the 2023 Grammys, but evidently, I am an extremely slow writer. So disregard lore/events that have happened since the Grammys when going into this fic.

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Even though the venue was only packed half-full, it still managed to stimulate Aether’s senses far past a comfortable limit. Tensions ran high within the crowd, nerves and excitement flowing in waves that his quintessence powers clung to almost greedily, refusing to drown out any amount of input, background or otherwise. The ghoul would have tried to flush his system of the absorbed emotions- maybe even block them off from the start- but his efforts would’ve been completely useless, like trying to wash away grease with nothing but water.

Safe to say, he was tired. No, scratch that, exhausted. But he needed to be there. They all needed to be there. If not for the band, then for Copia, the latter was always a higher priority in his mind. As the quintessence ghoul’s thoughts turned to Copia he found his gaze doing the same, drifting over to focus on the man as he sat to the side of Aether.

If you were to judge by his face alone, Copia was calm, cool, and collected, the only sign of stress manifesting through pursed lips and shifting eyes. However, the facade fell away the minute his body language was considered. His fingers rubbed relentlessly against each other and the palm of his right hand while his left lay in his lap, balled tightly into a fist. It didn’t take a ghoul’s heightened sense to recognize that he was nervous. Beyond nervous, really. His well-muscled leg bouncing violently up and down was a telltale enough of his nervous energy. Now, if you were to factor in a ghoul’s senses, it was borderline impossible to ignore. Even over the crowd and announcements, Aether didn’t so much as have to strain his ears to hear the man’s heartbeat that hammered inside his chest, threatening to burst through his ribs with a relentless thump-thumping beat.

The drone of the ceremony continued in the background, unregistered beyond an incoherent din by Aether’s brain in favor of his attention and thoughts remaining heavily on Copia. Truthfully, his attention to the actual ceremony had been overall absent since they had entered the venue, though he’d never say it out loud, lest he be met with an unending lecture from some clergy member and the band’s public image. But the prospect of awards outside of their own meant little to him- to any of the other ghouls for that matter. It was a superfluous human ritual and, while he liked to partake in observing similar circumstances from time to time (even joining them on occasion), the Grammys were a “bit much”, as Cumulus had tried to put it nicely. Copia’s well-being was of far greater importance to him anyways.

He continued to monitor the changes in the man’s vitals and mannerisms as the show went on, albeit in a semi-secretive fashion, his steel-gray eyes focused on him from behind the vents on the sides of his mask’s goggles. The last thing that he needed to happen was for Copia to notice, becoming antsier than he already was now that a pair of eyes were locked onto him as a result. Or worse, attempt to uphold the illusion that he was doing “a-ok” (his words) and ultimately push himself to the point of self-implosion, all for the sake of not becoming an undue burden on any of his ghouls because he could “handle it”.

In his earlier days as frontman of the Ghost Project, Copia had been a walking ball of nerves, his anxieties beyond palpable the moment your eyes laid on him. He had been so easy to send into a spiral of distress that even a single step taken that was not in accordance with his overall plan could send him careening into a jittery fit. He had been (and frankly, still was) so desperate to prove himself- to do things right - and anything outside of his carefully concocted scheme was bound to result in disaster- at least in his mind, it would.

There had been days when those around him had to treat him as though he were an overwound mechanical watch, ready to break into pieces the second things went wrong, that is, if they didn’t wish to make his disposition worse. It would be an outright lie to claim there was never a ghoul or member of the Ministry that took advantage of this, setting him off for their own amusement. This nature of his had translated into the mundane, every-day as well, with his constant overwrought state becoming a unique obstacle that those who wished to be close to him were forced to figure out how to work around. Aether couldn’t begin to recall how many times he had heard one of the ghouls startled him to the point of letting out a short scream, dropping whatever he held in his arms. Many a coffee mug had been tragically lost to this, the ceramic mugs finally being traded in for a far less fragile metal tumbler once the graveyard of ceramic shards grew too full.

Though, even with this, he had managed fine, very well even, with him succeeding to a notable extent as the years went on and his confidence growing steadily as a result. By the time of his ascension, it seemed as though he had become fairly apt at managing his stress, and gone were the days of the “overly twitchy and borderline-neurotic Cardinal” that was miraculously successful at his job. However, with the title of Papa came a slew of new problems and worries. And while he had grown to be able to handle more than anyone had thought he could years prior, they had only continued to metastasize and grow, the digging tendrils of doubt, anxieties, and pure dread burrowing between his cells and ingraining themselves into his very DNA. Somehow it had managed to make him feel worse than he had when he first took over the Ghost Project- more insecure, more worried, more unfit for the job- but that was something he would have never admitted, because if he did, then Papa Nihil and an unthinkable amount of the Clergy would have been right.

Then Sister Imperator would be disappointed.

But Aether had known of these newfound anxieties that plagued him, and by extension, the other seven ghouls had known it (or at least known a vague notion of this) too, and for some time now. His quintessence made it near impossible for such aggressively overwhelming feelings as Copia’s- albeit stripped down to their most basic of physical sensations- to go unnoticed. For that, while he felt a tad bit guilty for the intrusion on the privacy of one’s own brain that his Papa likely took for granted, he was grateful, especially now.

Copia, as of recently, had become well-versed, skilled even, at hiding what he truly felt, taking to removing himself or putting on a straight face when such things became too much from time to time. It had gotten to the point that most people would assume he was doing well even- and to an extent, he was. He was relatively successful, he had his ghouls, and he had his little games and tricycles. He had his happy moments.

He could manage most of the negative and the bad- at least in small increments- but as of recently, its hold on him had only grown infinitely worse, making the charade of fine-ness infinitely more complicated. Those tendrils that plagued him from what felt like the start, dug ever deeper, disrupting any semblance of stability that he still had, leaving him hanging on by a thread.

Observing this over the years, no matter how many times he had been reassured that Copia had been fine, created a similar sense of dread deep within the quintessence ghoul’s gut. He was worried for him, for so many reasons, he and his fellow ghouls were worried sick for him, especially with the fate of the other Papas threatening to befall him as well.

Aether’s train of thought had only become increasingly lost as he continued to watch Copia from the corner of his eye. The sights and sounds around him all but melted away into a soup of unregistered stimuli as he followed the white rabbit that was his Papa’s well-being down the metaphorical rabbit hole of his mind. The distant sound of Copia’s heartbeat was the only thing he could still hear with crystal-clear clarity, acting only to lull him down further.

Remaining in such a limbo of background noise sounded almost pleasant, even if it was on such a subject. If he didn’t leave there, there would be no conclusion to those thoughts, no end that he would have to come to terms with and process. They would all remain frozen in their semi-hypothetical state, not quite the best, but far better than the possibility of what they all dreaded. And frankly, if it weren’t for the seemingly humanly-impossible jump in Copia’s rapid heart rate that now jackhammered against Aether’s eardrums, he would have remained there, missing the announcer’s transition to the category they had been entered in.

His upper body having gone rigid at the announcement, Copia shoved his now interlaced hands between his thighs and squeezed them together tightly. His leg still bounced with nervous energy, the movement now constrained to below the knee as he stared wide-eyed up at the announcer on stage. Aether leaned forward in his seat slightly, looking past Copia and catching the eyes of the fire ghoul on his left. He gave a quick twitch of his head in the direction of the man between them, to which Dewdrop acknowledged with a short rumble, the pitch too low for human ears to register.

Ghouls never really needed words to “speak”, often relying on different-pitched noises and body language to communicate very basic concepts to each other. In the case of a complex topic, they then would utilize either their native infernal language or a human tongue. Though, if a group of ghouls spent time around one another in high enough frequency, over time, these short forms of communication could be used to convey said complexities as well. Considering this, as well as the extensive amount of time their collective pack had spent together, it was safe to say the two ghouls needed to say little more than they already had to understand what was being conveyed: keep an eye on Papa .

While, as of now, preserving Copia’s well-being was within their job description, this came from a place of sincere concern above all else. His safety and health meant more to the ghouls than just a charge they were to protect and perform with- no matter what Sister Imperator had commanded.

From the beginning, Sister Imperator had made it clear that the seven (now eight) ghouls were to only concern themselves with their contract-given duties as assigned by the Ministry, which ultimately boiled down to “protect and serve”. They were never to involve themselves deeper than a worker would their boss at a somewhat tolerable job, especially if it was concerning Nihil, her, or Copia- that had been made abundantly clear since each of their summonings or transfers. Imperator had laid out a promise, the threat of banishment or worse if they stuck so much as a clawed toe out of line, and she had seemed eager to keep it. But, the youngest Emeritus had thrown the rule to the wind. He treated his ghouls more like friends- family , really- opening himself up to his ghouls like the bleeding heart he was, asking for nothing but acceptance and love in return.

Maybe it had been the success that the Ghost Project had incurred due to the chemistry between Copia and his ghouls on stage, or maybe Sister Imperator had a soft spot for her pet project of a son, but the relationship between the ghouls and him was allowed to flourish despite her threats.

As a seemingly direct result of her leniency, Aether could confidently state that the eight of them considered their Papa one of the pack (in the somewhat culture-shock-inducing way a human could be), with even some of the most hesitant or stubborn of the group would agree. He himself had fallen into the former category upon first being assigned to who was Cardinal Copia and his rituals at the time, though this remained a tidbit about himself that he kept close to his chest as he was hesitant to admit it, even to himself. The quintessence ghoul prided himself in his affable nature, especially towards strangers (until given reason otherwise), but he hadn’t afforded Copia the same treatment in the beginning. He, having seen firsthand what happens to a Papa when the Ministry no longer wishes to have them as the face of the Ghost Project, was terrified of becoming attached.

Aether was still plagued by the thick, insidious residue left in his brain by the day Terzo had been dragged off stage and the subsequent day months later when he had met his demise. The memory of those days existed in his mind like a demented paradox, not quite there but oh so painfully vivid. The events were a blur, a jumbled slideshow of grainy snapshots, the figures captured barely discernible. But the physical sensations? They cut through the haze like a hot knife through butter. And frankly, if you were to ask him to recall those moments in his life, all he’d be able to describe would be the hellfire-like pain that had erupted in his gut and spread to his chest, voraciously consuming him from the inside out, leaving him a charred and empty husk.

It was a pain he found himself barely able to withstand, and the thought of exposing himself to it again had terrified him to his core. But he found himself inexplicably drawn to the Cardinal. Maybe it was his charming awkwardness or his genuine care for things that were so often overlooked in life that had enchanted him, either way, Aether found him impossible to ignore.

At first, the start of their relationship had been rocky, with a man so desperate to be liked, to be loved, reaching for a being that was desperate to love but petrified by the potential for loss and pain again. It had been a circumstance of an immovable force meeting an unstoppable object, but somehow, the man was able to get through.

Maybe it had been that desperate need to love again that ultimately won, or that Copia had lulled him into such a sense of ease that he couldn’t bear to shut himself off from the Cardinal any longer, but Aether found himself opening again. Baring himself to someone in his life that wasn’t born of hell and infernal blood and by that, a far greater risk of getting hurt in the end because humans were so fragile after all. This was even more so true when the human wore the target on their back which was the frontman title of the Ghost Project.

Truly, it hadn’t taken long for him to fall rapidly into what he’d describe as love, even if his heart felt rusty and out of practice. Sure, it had been kept warm and accustomed to infernal affections thanks to the few ghouls who understood how he felt- both Mountain and Dewdrop being present for Terzo's slow demise as he had been- but this was different. It was the shaky start of newborn love, like a foal standing on its legs for the first time, gathering its strength to walk, and then to run. His heart was unfamiliar with the routine of this new song and dance of ardor, one that would fill but not replace the old one, but it took to the challenge like a fish to water, relieved to return to a habitat in which it thrived.

This only opened him up to more love in the end. As he finally surrendered himself to Copia, new venues stood agape for the affections that his new pack had begun to brew. It hadn’t taken long for them all- ghouls and man alike- to build a home on each other’s hearts, with even Dewdrop succumbing to it in the end, despite his furious insistence that he would never open himself up again.

It was because of this bond forged throughout the years in blood, sweat, and tears, the ghouls knew how much the award meant to their Papa, how much of his self-worth in his eyes and both Sister’s and Nihil’s eyes, rode on the back of the award. However, it paled in comparison to what both Copia and the ghouls feared was yet to come in lieu of the ceremony’s results. It was an ice-cold dread that hung in the back of their minds, breathing down the nape of their necks, counting down the minutes and days to an unknown end. It was the fear for his future fate- something Aether had frequently shoved into the recesses of his mind because if he were to dwell on it- and so close to the deciding moment-he’d likely lose his shit.

The announcer, with envelope in hand, cleared his throat. He had tried to muffle the noise, turning his head away from the mic, but it had little success. The jarring noise bled from the speakers and reverberated harshly against the venue’s walls, grating on the ghouls’ already frayed nerves. Each of them recoiled at the auditory offense, a low growl bubbling up in the back of their throat or a thin hiss slipping from between their teeth.

The announcer turned back to the microphone, beginning to break the seal on the envelope.

“And the winner for the best metal performance is-”

In this final moment, Aether turned his metallic eyes to the stage, his direct attention perhaps being the final thing that could, in some way, somehow, tip the universe’s scale in their favor. If ghouls were the type of creatures to pray, Aether would have prayed a thousand- even a million- times if it meant that his Papa would finally get what he greatly deserved and it could secure his safety.

But ghouls weren’t.

And Copia wouldn’t.

He hadn’t listened past the first syllable of the name that was shouted into the microphone with a cheeriness that came as sharp lacerations to Aether’s infernal soul. He hadn’t cared to listen. It wasn’t theirs and that’s all that mattered. They’d lost. The only thing that drowned out the cacophony of congratulatory applause that had followed was the sharp, high-pitch ringing that now took place in his ears, deafening the ghoul to most sounds around him.

Snapping his head with such haste that Aether swore he felt a handful of vertebrae crack, he threw all pretense of appearing as if he wasn’t staring to the wind and examined Copia through the dark lenses of his mask. An intense and harrowing worry bubbled inside him as he held his breath and waited for his reaction.

Sobbing, wailing, cursing, pleading, praying- hell, maybe even a meltdown- the ghoul tried to prepare himself for the worst response he could imagine, though, for all reactions Aether thought of, he found them all to be fair in his book.

The ringing in his ears and the subsequent cacophony of claps from hundreds of guests began to fade into a dull uproar, the sounds taking their place in the back of his mind as he continued to stare, a haunted expression worn under his mask. The stiff forms of the other ghouls leaned forward in their seats, their black, bug-like lenses focused intently on the Antipope between them, joining in at staring expectantly at their Papa as they waited for a reaction.

Copia’s eyes were still glued to the stage but there was a particularly vacant and dull quality to his gaze, his face void of expression save for a small smile. His hands rose robotically, joining the many others in congratulatory applause, albeit soft and somewhat discordant in its rhythm.

Aether watched on in confusion, his brows knitting together from under his mask as he observed him. Something was off with him. What had been the constant feedback of his Copia’s anxiety had disappeared, leaving his quintessence empty of his input. Seconds passed with nothing taking its place, then what felt like minutes, still resulting in nothing. The ghoul had expected him to be distraught, overcome with emotions to the point that it would become near impossible to contain them, perhaps even needing to be consoled or corralled in the process. But this? This? It was something entirely different from what Aether had expected. Instead of the pain and dread and whatever else negative emotion that the quintessence ghoul had damn near planned and prepared for, all that emanated from the man next to him was a dull haze, thick like soup and impossible to wade through. It was something akin to an oppressing fog that obscured anything beyond the tip of your nose, effectively hiding any possible traces of emotion for Aether to chase.

He couldn’t tell if this outcome was better or worse.

From beyond Copia, Sunshine, and Swiss’ heads now sat on a swivel. Ever the observant ones, their attention had been drawn away from their Papa by the bulky, black cameras panning over the crowd, it and its respective spotlight ultimately settling on their rigid forms. Aether, taking notice of the two ghouls’ diverging concentration, followed the direction of their line of sight. To his nauseating chagrin, he saw their faces- more so masks, save for Copia- displayed on one of the many large LED screens posted to the sides of the stage, replacing one of the many congratulatory images of the winner in horrific splendor.

Silently cursing the camera crew and everyone else in the venue, Aether tore his attention away from the screens and returned it to Copia once again, finding that the smile that had been the only break between his otherwise empty expression had fallen. His painted face had taken on an intense look of exhaustion now, the lines in his face that had become ever prominent in the past months now slack. The overhead light that shone down on them like a malevolent searchlight overemphasized the shapes of his face, abruptly transforming its structure to that of one that looked far more drawn and hollow. The painted shapes on his skin only worked to exaggerate this even further, the curves of his cheeks and depths of eye sockets deepening significantly. Color had drained from the few areas of his exposed skin, leaving him waxy and pale. He took on a lifeless appearance as his body slumped back into his chair.

He looked almost like a corpse, or maybe even a ghost , Aether thought, laughing to himself mirthlessly. This all felt like some cruel comedy routine and they were the main act, made to flounder in distress and agony for the rest of the venue to gawp and laugh at.

It hurt to see him like this. It hurt so fucking much. That hellfire-like burn inside his chest, the one he had become so intimately acquainted with that night Terzo had been ripped from the stage and his subsequent execution months later, began to make its return, the flames licking at his ribs and caressing his heart and lungs with violent enthusiasm. It might as well have been heartburn sent from the ninth circle of hell and in no way was any amount of antacids going to help.

At a loss for ways to help either himself or his Papa, Aether placed a cautious hand on Copia’s thigh, his clawed thumb rubbing back and forth lightly on the outside of his leg. It helped as much as he thought it would- which is to say not at all. Copia’s mismatched eyes still remained glazed over and distant, his limbs laying limp and figure still. The only true movement he made was the near imperceivable rise and fall of his chest as he took in the shallowest of breaths, almost as if the air in the room was a finite resource and he was desperate to conserve it.

Despite the obvious ineffectiveness of the quintessence ghoul’s comforts, Dewdrop joined him in his efforts, shifting as far as his seat’s armrest would allow him, and leaning into Copia’s side. With the somewhat little body weight he had, he tried to provide Copia with a warm and comforting pressure that he knew the man had come to appreciate in times of stress.

The three of them stayed like that- with the six other ghouls remaining fixated on their Papa or their surroundings- for the remainder of the ceremony. Copia only finally stirred from his frozen position, rising like a member of the living dead, well after the seated crowd began to leave. He stood up from his chair in a way that made it seem like the mere action alone took all the effort he could ever muster and began to trudge through the rows of seats and towards the exit, his ghouls flanking silently behind him.

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The bright and excitable background that lay beyond the ceremony venue felt as if it were mocking them the minute they stepped outside. Each laugh, each smile, it all had felt like an offense, taking its toll on each of them as they began their march back to the limo that waited to take them home. Whether it was obvious or not, there was a thrum of shot nerves amongst them all, palpable in the very air around them.

Cirrus, trying to be the solid rock for the pack that she often was, gave little indication of stress- at least, to the untrained eye that is. Those who truly knew her would take one look at how her blunt, nail-polish-painted claws picked at one another and (if she were partly unmasked) the way her fangs worried at her bottom lip would say otherwise. And, as if she were a litmus test for the pack’s level of stress, if Cirrus was unable to maintain her utter composure in the face of what lay before them, then the others would (very likely) not be faring any better.

Ghouls such as Swiss and Sunshine shifted restlessly, moving from foot to foot as the second they as a group had to stand still, waiting for some other menagerie of people to pass. The inklings of quintessence that ran through their beings as multi-ghouls were in overdrive. Not as well regulated nor understood as a solely-quintessence ghoul’s powers, their many elemental factors fed off the quintessence to create a chaotic internal storm, filling their vessels with an energy that made it nigh painful to sit still through.

Mountain fared no better, in his own not-completely-understood-by-the-others way (save for the previous air ghoul, Zephyr, but knowing that aided the pack very little at the moment). Mountain had grown silent- which wasn’t unusual for the giant ghoul- but it was the type of silence that was cause for concern. The earth ghoul was a known observer, preferring to watch instead of speak more times than not, which meant, even if he was paying attention to something other than what was at hand, he was focused. Noticing. But not now. As of now, he had retreated somewhere in his mind as he did on occasion- a place he couldn’t begin to explain, only able to offer a mild “ I dunno ” upon question- completely absent from this world.

It was reminiscent of how Copia was as of now, Aether had come to think, but the earth ghoul was too far gone to be of any help at the moment.

Rain and Cumulus, on the other hand, fidgeted relentlessly with their uniforms. The smaller air ghoulette picked at the purposeful imperfections of her jacket and chewed at the inside of her lip, taking little care for the blood she had begun to taste. This was while Rain, hands held close to his chest, spun the ring he wore on one hand back and forth on repeat.

The ghouls no longer troubled themselves with keeping the illusion of the hellish invariable collective. Truthfully, it had come to the point that none of them could bring themselves to give a shit about said rule, given the circumstances.

Aether, in an attempt to abate his own stress, surveyed each member of his pack, trying to gauge their state of composure, trying to assess their need for aid- though, he was likely in no position to provide it.

Was it his job? No. It had never been his job to keep the peace and manage the emotions of everyone around him. If anything, he had been told to “butt out of it” on more than one occasion, but, at times like these where dysregulation was high, he felt obligated to. Blame it on his element or on his inherent need to be needed, it just was the only way he could begin to feasibly fix this mess- or at the very least, make himself feel better, if only a fraction.

Making his way through the other six ghouls and finding that, while they all seemed to cling to composure with a weakened and slipping grip, they would remain “okay” for now, Aether turned his focus to the last ghoul, the one that concerned him the most when it came to dealing with stress. Dewdrop.

If the telltale creaking of his unyielding fangs clenched hard against one another and the tightly balled state of his fists was to be any indication of the small ghoul’s state of agitation, he was on the precipice of an explosion.

Despite his presence becoming nigh synonymous with stoicness (save for the exaggerations of his frustrations on stage), the water-ghoul-turned-fire-ghoul was fragile. It had taken him months of effort to find a semblance of control and stability and years to come close to being able to maintain it. And this had been asking for patience from his pack mates, new and old, all the while. So much change and so much tragedy packed within such a short period of time so soon after his summoning had made him volatile. That’s not to say both Mountain and Aether couldn’t relate, they both had been exposed to a similar start to their topside lives, but it was different. He was never given the chance to mourn, for both Terzo and himself. He was never given the chance to figure out who he was before his change, before his gills turned to cauterized divots and his blood turned to gasoline.

A part of him was grateful for the transformation though, the roaring crackle and searing heat of his new element fit his fiery nature, but it burned away at parts of himself that he ached to have back. The one part he missed so frequently was the ability to automatically regulate himself. Water ghouls, so often placid in their nature, had a knack for it. Even he, with his white-water-rapid-attitude, had it. Now, now , he felt everything too strongly, too vividly, with no innate ability to stop it. He was tired of the all-consuming and ever-exhausting emotions it would cause and the overwhelming amount of effort he’d have to employ to overcome them. He had been getting better at it, though, right?

Even though that had been true, everything that day had done its damndest to push each of their limits, leaving his reserves empty. Traumas that were unique to him and those that he shared with both Mountain shared and Aether were rearing their ugly heads with no way to stop them, making it impossible to escape from a downward spiral of fury-inducing anguish that he was prone to.

The small fire ghoul’s mind was reeling.

How dare they be happy. How dare they feel good when they had to fear for the well-being of their Papa. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair. He didn’t want to- no- he couldn’t lose another one. It had taken him years to finally let himself become attached to Copia after the abrupt removal and death of Terzo.

He’d finally gotten comfortable. He’d finally found himself capable of loving again- capable of being loved again- he couldn’t go through losing that a second time.

Every Papa would retire, everyone, especially the ghouls, knew that. But ever since the execution orders were set for the three retired Emeritus brothers, all in the name of allowing the next to ascend, it had been a day Copia’s ghouls dreaded, hoping beyond all hope that maybe it’d be different for him. Maybe if their Papa was good enough, maybe if they were good enough, the Ministry would spare him. The 2023 Grammys could have been Copia’s chance to prove himself, to save himself, even if it hadn’t worked for Terzo. Just maybe.

They all knew it was unreasonable, stupid even, but hope was all they had.

Well, all they had had.

Now Satan only knew what the clergy had in store for Copia when his time came, and if Aether were to consider all that had happened since his summoning, it wouldn’t be good.

Copia and his ghouls trudged through the crowds, a funeral procession for a living dead man with the eight ghouls sticking close around him, deterring any post-ceremony

conversations or interactions. To each of the ghouls’ surprise however, there was a singular brave- or perhaps stupid- member of the paparazzi that stepped in their way, a string of questions spilling from his mouth as the light of his camera flashed relentlessly in their faces. The nine of them froze in their tracks, mildly dumbfounded by the audacity of the man. He may have not known the extent of damage one ghoul could do to a human body, their teeth crushing bone while their claws ripped through flesh with ease, but if this taunt was to continue, he would soon know well enough. He might as well have been antagonizing eight loose tigers, their stomachs empty and blood boiling.

A growing unignorable tension spread throughout the ghouls, many of them clenching and unclenching their claws reflexively with hackles raised and low, rumbling growls building in the back of their throats.

Aether found himself joining many of his pack mates in this involuntary display. His lips drew back in a snarl as his own unfamiliar rumble of anger reverberated in his chest, but he caught himself before he teetered off the precipice of loss of self-control.

They needed to get to the limousine and leave now before they ended up being the topic everyone and their mother would be posting about. He had to get them to snap out of it.

The quintessence ghoul gave a series of strangled, frantic chirps, attempting to redirect the attention of his pack that stood ready to pounce. When his first series of calls fell on unhearing ears, the noises failing to shake the other ghouls of their fixation, he let out another set of chirps, the rising panic and desperation tangible within his voice. Small twitches of heads, just enough to angle an ear towards Aether, rippled through the pack, the reluctant unclenching of claws and loosening of taut muscles following slowly after.

Just as Aether allowed himself to let out a sigh of shaky relief, he was shoved to the side, causing him to stumble.

Evidently, his efforts hadn’t worked on all of the ghouls.

Dewdrop, having come from the back of the pack and now pushing past Copia (who had been standing there, almost entirely unaware of the situation from inside his dissociative haze), had finally snapped. His usual composure and stoic stature had been disregarded in favor of blind, passion-fueled rage.

Aether’s body locked in horrified anticipation. He wasn’t usually the type to freeze in times of sudden stress, quite the opposite really, he was one to spring into action, acting on instinct rather than waiting, but there was something about that day that made his limbs seize up, cementing him to where he stood. He watched in slow motion as Dew pulled down his balaclava to expose his mouth to the man- who still stood, blabbering on continuously- the lights of the venue glinting off of the ghoul’s bared fangs. A guttural growl followed by a sharp hiss left Dewdrop’s throat, sounding not unlike a cornered wild cat. It was a clear promise of bodily destruction that Aether knew the fire ghoul would not hesitate to make good on.

He wanted blood, he wanted pain. He wanted to show them, make them feel how he felt.

Brief, sharp screams littered the air from members of the crowd that had now gathered around the ghouls and Copia, having sensed even the tiniest potential for drama like sharks smelling a drop of blood in the ocean. However, even with the screams, they still watched the scene unfold with irritating curiosity, phones and cameras pointed straight at them.

The offending man that Dew had locked in his sights was finally hit with the realization that his interaction was far from wanted- a realization he was fairly accustomed to, but these deadly ramifications were something entirely new. Dropping his camera with a yelp of terror, he fell to his knees, his hands clasped tightly together as he began to beg. Desperate, whining pleas for forgiveness came from his quivering lips in a jumbled string of words, the noise grating on each of the ghouls’ ears. When his logic that the enraged Dewdrop- a creature not of man but of hellish origins- could be reasoned with failed, he turned his pleas to Copia, screaming at him to call off his monster , then turned to the crowd, begging for their help. However, both Copia and their audience stood paralyzed, he still in his daze and the others in horrified shock.

Dewdrop closed the few steps between him and the man, his heaving body looming over him as he leered down at him through the lenses of his mask, his eyes filled with undeniable bloodlust. Another growl, this one deeper and far more guttural, began to emanate from Dew as he raised a poised claw, ready to tear his victim’s flesh from the bone.

Aether waited with bated breath, squeezing his eyes shut and bracing himself for the sound of blood spattering against the pavement and the chorus of screams that would follow.

But it never came.

Upon opening his eyes cautiously, Aether saw that instead of a blood-soaked Dewdrop and gore-painted ground, the smaller ghoul was now enveloped in Mountain’s arms. The enormous ghoul, even in his unpresent frame of mind, had not fallen victim to the frozen state that had befallen Aether and was able to pull Dewdrop away before he struck. The man that kneeled before them began to endlessly thank earth ghoul for his inadvertent rescue, his body shaking with the pure terror-induced adrenaline of a near-death experience, though his gratefulness went ignored.

Dewdrop squirmed in Mountain’s vice-like grip, legs kicking fruitlessly in the air as the earth ghoul lifted him off the ground, preventing him from getting any form of purchase. A harsh caterwaul erupted from his gnashing mouth, a string of expletives aimed at both Mountain and the man following quickly after- though the earth ghoul knew the ones meant for him lacked sincerity.

The furious cry that had come from the small ghoul shook the grip that the shocked daze held on the audience, returning them to conscious reality.

The shrill noise wasn’t what truly shocked Aether however, it was the soft sound of unconstrained weeping that the small ghoul’s expletives metamorphosed into.

Dew had gone limp in Mountain’s grip, his arms clinging tightly to earth ghoul’s own, not to attempt to pry them off, but with the desire to be held. His thin frame shook as tears fell from his tightly squeezed eyes; what remained of them after making their way from under his mask streaked in thin, wobbly lines around his taut, u-shaped mouth, contorted by his crying.

While Aether was accustomed to the smaller ghoul’s anger-filled outbursts (though, the public variety was far rarer), there was only a handful of times he had shown true vulnerability like this, and that had been in private . The number of times that had happened in public was a far smaller amount, one that he was confident he could count on a single hand. None had been as blatant as this, however.

Aether felt the hot sting of tears pricking at the corners of his own eyes, his grief- which had been distracted in the brief moments where Dewdrop stood ready to strike- came rushing over him again, somehow heavier than the first time.

Leaving the Grammys venue would make it official. Permanent . Like signing a death warrant, condemning those who the document spoke of to the slaughter.

Suddenly going off the deep end like Dew almost had didn’t sound like such a bad idea, Aether had thought.

Shoving this notion down and setting his jaw hard, desperate to subdue the new tremble of his chin, he caught the attention of Cirrus, their lense-shielded eyes locking. The air ghoulette that so often held herself with an air of ferocity and liveliness had taken on a wilted look, like a cut flower left in a vase a bit too long, most of its vibrancy having ebbed away. Despite this, Aether knew he could rely on her, especially at such a time when he feared the unavoidable shake in his voice and the loss of his already waning composure if he were to try to speak.

Taking Aether’s silent plea in stride, Cirrus let out a sharp trill, spurring the others to continue moving forward.

Mountain was the first to resume making his way to the limousine, still carrying Dewdrop in his arms (though he now held Dew bridal style, with the small ghoul curled into his chest) as he stepped past the man with his camera, who remained cowered on the ground. The rest of them followed suit, ignoring the flashing of cameras and murmuring voices around them, with one exception; Copia stood still, his eyes locked onto nothing in particular, somehow appearing deeper into his daze than he had been previously. His pallor had taken on a shade that nearly matched the deathly white of his papal paint and there was a sway to his stance that made it seem that the gentlest of breezes would send him toppling to the ground like a frail house of sticks.

Aether, swallowing an emergent hitch of his breath at seeing him like this, fell to the rear of the group, motioning with a brief jerk of his head for the other ghouls to continue without them- to which, even though there was some resistance, they complied. He took to Copia’s side, placing a gentle but trembling hand on the small of his back, his touch feather-light as opposed to his usual firm but tender habits. He was trying his damndest not to startle him, but in the end, his effort felt near useless.

Copia’s muscles tensed briefly under Aether’s touch as he jumped at the feeling of the ghoul’s hand against him, his head whipping unsteadily to face him so that his bleary, mismatched eyes reflected in the dark lenses of the ghoul’s mask. He uttered a weak noise of something between surprise and confusion, sounding as if he had been woken up mid-dream.

“Come on, Papa,” Aether murmured, his face close to Copia’s ear, his voice, despite its low volume, notably wavering. “We’re headin’ back.”

“Wha- oh,” he said almost sleepily, his voice a hoarse whisper. He took a second to fully register what Aether had said, his mind lagging far behind his surroundings, and nodded his head listlessly in agreement, “ Okay .”

Encouraging Copia forward with a ginger pull from his hand that he still held on the man’s back, Aether led Copia after the others, his eyes never leaving the man for more than a handful of seconds at a time.

By the time they had reached the limo, the last two ghouls standing outside the vehicle (this being Swiss and Mountain) were lowering themselves into their seats. Though, upon seeing Aether and Copia approaching out of the corner of his eye, Mountain stepped out of the backseat silently, making room for them to enter. Aether gave a brief, strained chuff of appreciation and guided Copia through the limousine door as he did, following him in quickly after.

The scene he was met with upon sliding into his seat was one that only cemented the presence of the nauseating bile that had built steadily in his stomach. There was a suffocating stagnancy that permeated the cabin of the vehicle now that the only hope they thought they still had was gone. The weight of this realization had descended upon them all, settling deep within their chests and wrapping itself around their hearts in such a way that it felt impossible to breathe. The only true sound that managed to pervade such a blanket of otherwise near silence came from Rain. The low, yet wispy rumble that was so unique to him, emanated from within his chest as he held Dewdrop in his lap, the water ghoul’s chin resting in the crook of the other’s neck while they rocked in unison.

He was trying to comfort him. Aether, utilizing the minute amount of quintessence he could muster to increase its effectiveness, joined Rain to form a rumbling duet.

The sound visibly loosened the taught muscles of the limousine passengers, if only just a bit, with even Copia’s slumped and dazed form leaning into his side, as if the noise had drawn the man’s body to him. They would need all the comfort they could get at a moment like this.

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out,” Rain said, the fatigue that was felt by all present in the drag of his syllables. The water ghoul wasn’t known for being the most optimistic out of the bunch- quite the opposite, really- but he was trying. Perhaps, just by saying “everything will be okay” it would manifest a happy ending to all of this, and things will turn out alright. Their kind weren’t the ones to deal in miracles, but it was worth a shot.

Rain stroked a thin, pallid hand back and forth against Dewdrop’s back- whether it was to soothe himself or for the fire ghoul at this point would be anyone’s guess. Nevertheless, Dew’s body shook just barely now, his tears now ceased, pointing to something having worked.

This was how the scene within the limousine remained until they arrived at the steps of the abbey- the purr-punctuated but otherwise silent atmosphere only breaking once the vehicle came to a halt and stood idle for a moment.

Aether and Copia remained still as the others began to stir around him, shifting towards the opening limousine door. The ghoul sucked in a breath, expanding his lungs as far as they could inflate, and steeled himself for whatever lay waiting for them outside those doors. By the time he felt prepared (as well as he ever would be), they were the only ones left inside the vehicle’s cabin.

Letting the air trickle out from his lungs in a slow exhale, Aether placed a gentle hand on Copia’s knee, wiggling it back and forth slightly to grab his attention. It was a sad attempt at playfulness on his part, and it was made even more so with the small, forced smile Aether gave when he looked at the man beside him.

Copia, now a bit more present, returned his gaze with heavy-lidded eyes, his exhaustion glaringly prominent on his painted face. The excitable, almost childlike glint that so often found its place within his eyes was absent, a dull, death-like glaze taking its place.

Despite how many times he had been knocked down, berated, or ridiculed in the short time (in terms of a ghoul’s existence, at least) Aether had known Copia, the ghoul had only one distant memory of a time when the man’s eyes had taken on such a look of abject defeat. That one moment- the image clouded by his own grief and turmoil- had been at the funeral procession for the three Emeritus brothers before the Cardinal. Despite the even briefer length of time Aether had known him at the time of the procession, with his affections for him still far from blossoming into what it was now, he had made a wish that day to never see Copia in that state again. Not for the reason that he didn’t want to deal with him when in such a condition- he was a people-pleasing quintessence ghoul for Satan’s sake, he lived to serve- but for the pain it caused him to see such a man hurt like that.

All Aether wanted to do right that very moment was hold him, enveloping him within his body in its entirety, and never let go. And maybe he’d let him, at least for tonight.

Taking Copia’s hand that lay limply in his lap in his own, Aether slid out of the limousine, his Papa in tow. They were met by the same seven, black-goggled stares that they had been upon approaching the vehicle, the air of exhaustion and concern thick amongst the pack.

Rain still held onto Dewdrop as they stood outside the vehicle. His arms were threaded around the fire ghoul’s chest from behind with a distinctive grip, providing Dew with the compression he so often craved. This was all while the water ghoul’s head rested against Swiss’ shoulder, who was at their side. The multi-ghoul’s hand clutched at Rain’s hip, bearing a not-so-subtle tremor as he reciprocated the affection, resting his head atop the other’s. Next to them, Mountain sagged where he stood, his lengthy frame folding in on itself with the weight of that night’s events. He looked as if he were about to collapse if it weren’t for Cumulus, who had wedged herself snuggly under his arm, her own arms wrapped around his half-bent waist with a crushing grip. Their tails hung heavily together, intertwined and squeezing each other, attempting to wring out any form of comfort they could from one another. The other two ghoulettes, Cirrus and Sunshine, clung together not far away, attempting something similar. Cirrus leaned heavily into Sunny, nuzzling deeply against her body as their standing position allowed. Their hands that hung between them were clasped together, fingers interlocked with their grip near white-knuckled, while the air ghoulette clenched the multi-ghoulette’s upper arm in her other hand for good measure.

Each ghoul held onto each other as if their pack mate would vanish if their grasp were to so much as to waiver, determined to ensure they would stay together. Even Aether found himself holding onto Copia’s gloved hand with an iron grip that was sure to make the man’s hand ache, though he made no indication of it if it did. It was all they could do, really, considering such a luxury of confidence in remaining there- alive - couldn’t be afforded for their Papa. Not to the extent they could expect for each other, at least. The ghouls would try their damnedest to change that fact, however. Aether was sure of it.

“I don’t entirely know what I was expecting, but I thought we’d have Imperator halfway up our asses by now,” Swiss said with thinly veiled distaste, adequately expressing how the other ghouls felt about the woman as well. Though, if you were to ask some of them, a far louder, far more crass version would be needed to convey the proper message.

A handful of the ghouls took to glancing around themselves at their surroundings, finding that the multi-ghoul had made a fair observation. The front yard and subsequent entrance to the abbey were near empty. Only an odd ghoul, clergy member, or sibling passed by with no intention to stop.

Most days, even at a somewhat-later time of night such as then (the time being 9:18 pm to be exact), more than just a handful of abbey residents would still be bustling around into the later hours of the night. Whether it be in the spirit of work or play, it wouldn’t be until well past midnight that the back-and-forth of uniformed figures would truly come to the trickle of bodies it was now. This oddly disquieting observation made the ghouls’ hairs stand on end and they had yet to factor in that they had returned from the Grammys of all things. A factor where, no matter the outcome, one would think they would have been met with a small crowd of people to explain themselves to, or at the very least, be met by the people controlling the operation in the first place.

Aether couldn’t care less, however. The less people- the less Imperator - to deal with, the better.

Feeling the way in which Copia’s hand tightened around his own at the mention of Sister Imperator’s name, the quintessence ghoul became determined to not afford her the option to catch them. With the Copia’s hand still in his, Aether pulled forward with more force than he had intended, anxious to leave the open space of the yard and return to the protective walls of the ghouls’ wing of the abbey, yanking the man with him. Copia, still somewhat unsteady on his legs, stumbled after him, his sudden lurch forward causing both Swiss, Sunshine, and Cumulus to untangle themselves from their pack mates and lunge forward, ready to catch him. Though he managed to maintain his footing, offering quiet words of reassurance to the ghouls who jumped to his aid that he was fine, Cirrus barked an admonishing, “ Aether! ”, causing the ghoul to abruptly stop in his tracks.

“ Shit, Papa, sorry -“ he began, the shame of being so wrapped up within his own head that he forgot about the person he was worried about in the first place rose to his cheeks, flushing them a deep, wine from under his mask.

Copia, seeming mostly, if not entirely, cognizant now, cut his apologies short. “It’s fine. I’m fine, really,” he said, taking his hand out from Aether’s grasp and offering the ghoul a light pat on the back.

He wasn’t sure if it was fine, really. There was an ache of emptiness in both his palm and chest as Copia took his hand out from his that spawned yet another thread of worry within his brain- as if there weren’t already enough to tie a rope and hang himself with . This time, it was the fear that his Papa was pulling away, shutting down, and putting on a face to save others the trouble as he’d so commonly do.

He seemed to be back to acting “normal” enough- for the situation at least- but the glazed stare of defeat still remained in Copia’s eyes and it all but disturbed Aether.

“We ne- I, uh, just really want to get inside. Been too much stimulation and people, you know?” Aether said sheepishly, the tiny swell of guilt growing in his gut. This was not for the fact that he was humiliated to admit the day had taken its toll on him (though this, with many other feelings of inadequacy, would haunt him in the near future) but for the fact that he intended to use it and his quintessence to his advantage.

By nature, Aether was straightforward. There were few times where he didn’t say what he meant outright, and of those few times, they were reserved for times when he found it (and the persuasive powers of his element) absolutely necessary- minus the occasional, playful harassment that usually found Dewdrop or Swiss as the recipient. The self-identified necessity for his brand of manipulation never placated the sparks of guilt that he would experience for days after, however, feeling in some way that he had betrayed those he loved through his actions.

They, for the most part, trusted each other. Each member listened to the other’s concerns and took it to heart if it was serious enough- even in the event of a previous spat or argument. So there was no real reason for him to believe that his packmates and Papa wouldn’t listen to his concerns and follow him to their quarters without much fuss, but Aether was incapable of explaining himself. Truthfully, he currently felt incapable of everything he was meant to do . He had failed to keep control of the situation as they left the Grammys, and he had failed to manage his own emotions once they arrived at the abbey, almost hurting the man whom they were all worried about in the process. He had let his entire pack down as well as Copia, and no amount of him could admit that he was continuing to fail at regulating his emotions or that he was falling back onto less than savory methods to try and placate them, ultimately failing his loved ones further.

But they’d have to send him back to the pit before he let himself fail at keeping Copia safe from the Ministry.

“I’d have to agree with the sentiment. It’s been, eh… a long day ,” Copia said, hesitating as he tried to find the right word to describe the shit show that was not far in the past. “I’m sure we could all use some ‘R & R’.”

He gave little time for the weary murmurs of agreement to leave the lips of his ghouls before he began to make his way toward the large doors of the abbey’s front entrance. The unsure footing and shaky gait that Copia bore minutes earlier had been traded for one of determined liveliness as he did so, looking not unlike the hundred times he strode on stage for a ritual as they performed for the masses.

This seemingly sudden switch- one that would be of no concern for anyone that knew Copia through his public appearance as Papa but was garishly out of character for his “off-duty-self”- was not lost on the ghouls. His out-of-pocket adoption of bravado sent a ripple of unease through the infernal beasts, a series of short chitters and (albeit goggle-clad) side-eye glances essentially asking one another: ‘ you seeing this shit too?’ were exchanged between the eight.

It only served to deepen Aether’s anxieties that the man they loved was trying to pull away. Nevertheless, the eight followed after their Papa, undeniably ready to conclude the day. Even if a sense of unease was boiling just below the surface.

Whether it was through luck, or the bizarre emptiness of the abbey’s front yard extending to that of the wing both the ghouls’ and Copia’s quarters resided, the group was mercifully granted a reprieve from receiving an audience while within the abbey’s walls. Only a single ghoul had crossed their path by the time they arrived at the entrance to the pack’s quarters, the passing individual offering merely a sidelong glance towards them.

Mountain, his tail still partially entwined with Cumulus’, fished a ring of keys from his pants pocket. The earth ghoul had been entrusted with them for he had the luxury of wearing black denim jeans as opposed to the laced pants the rest of them wore. “ Benefits of hiding behind a drum kit ”, as he had said. The others that crowded around him as he fiddled with the lock- the thing being particularly temperamental, thanks to the time Sunshine jammed a nail file and an unraveled paper clip into it, thinking she could avoid another lecture about forgetting her keys- filed in one after another once the door gave way to the common room, shedding parts of their uniforms before collapsing onto the various furniture.

All but Aether, Copia, and Mountain himself remained outside, the two ghouls looking at the man expectantly. Mountain still held the door ajar, as if silently urging them to follow inside, Aether, on the other hand, was not as subtle. Unbuckling his mask and shoving it under his arm, Aether hooked his thumb toward the entrance, a diluted expression of anxiety on his face. “Do you want to, uh, do you want to stay the night? With us?” He tacked on the last few words hurriedly as if it wasn’t already implied that Copia would be surrounded by his ghouls if he were to say yes, whether he wanted it or not.

Before he was able to give the quintessence ghoul an answer, scrabbling noises filled the brief pocket of silence as the six ghouls from within the common room, either lying draped over furniture or each other (save for a particular fire ghoul), abandoned their weariness- if only briefly- to perk up from where they rested to offer their pleas.

A ragged but hopeful chorus of “ please, papa ”, “ stay ”, and “ yeah, come on, please ” came from the group, many of them echoing one another’s words as they began to rise from their seats, likely to attempt to drag Copia inside.

It was Dewdrop who had reached the door first, having been the only one out of the six who had yet to truly sit down, unable to fully release himself from the stress of the day. Instead, he had chosen to hover a few yards from the entrance, his sectoral heterochromatic eyes of dark blue and a fiery orange boring into Copia as the three stood outside the threshold of the room with an almost unnerving intensity. The small fire ghoul stepped out from the doorway and stretched forward, grabbing onto their Papa’s hand with a startlingly firm grip.

His voice was hoarse, his vocal cords strained from his cursing and screaming earlier that day, so when he tugged on Copia’s arm, begging him to stay, it came out in a raspy whisper.

“ Please, Papa. Please stay with us .”

He sounded as if he was on the verge of tears again, and if the growing sheen in his eyes was anything to go by, he was.

Aether felt his own tears welling up in his eyes, once again overcome by the gravity of it all. He just wanted this night to be over. He wanted everyone to lie down in the common room and sleep. Please just let them stay together and sleep.

A sympathetic smile developed on Copia’s painted face as he covered Dewdrop’s hands with his free one and gave him a reassuring squeeze. He looked up from the fire ghoul, his eyes shifting between the rest of them, and offered the same smile.

“You all are too sweet to me, I don’t deserve you. I’ll come by later, I promise. I just want to get out of this outfit and clean up. You wouldn’t want my paint all over your things, would you?” He laughed at his attempt at a joke, the sound dry and discordant, a far cry from his usual- albeit sometimes meek, but nevertheless, authentic - chuckles and “ha-ha’s”. Mountain, with his mask now hanging limply from one hand and never the one to be good at hiding his thoughts, furrowed his brow in confusion at his excuse, though this went unnoticed (or perhaps, ignored) by Copia.

Though the odd change in Copia’s behavior and subsequently odder excuse for him to leave went unacknowledged as he departed from the ghouls’ wing of the abbey, the unsettling sound of his mirthless laugh echoed in the eight ghouls’ minds and sent a wave of new anxiety down their spines. Cold, electric surges built at the nape of their necks and traveled down to the tip of their tails, making their hair stand on end once again.

Something didn’t feel right.

They were inclined to leave well enough alone and afford him the privacy he was so often deprived of, but a nagging sense of unease made it feel nearly impossible to do so without a sense of dread growing within them.

As the five ghouls took their places in the common room once again, both Aether, Mountain, and Dewdrop lingered at the doorway a second longer to watch Copia turn and continue down a corridor to their left before doing the same.

“Tell me if I’m wrong and it's just my anxiety acting up, but Papa’s acting really freaking weird,” Cumulus said from within Cirrus’ arms, the taller ghoulette holding her close to her chest so that she could bury her face into her cloud-like hair.

There was a murmur of quiet agreement.

“I mean- we’ve still got time to figure something out. They're not going to do anything immediately, right? So we can all rest for tonight, at least, but with the way he’s acting, I’m not sure.”

There was another mutter of agreement, or, at least, consideration of her point, save for the mumbling from under their breath that came from Dewdrop. Something about “ I wouldn’t put it past the assholes ”, but Cumulus only heard half of it.

Sunshine, ever the optimist, perked up from where she halfway lay under Swiss, the larger multi-ghoul draping himself half on her and half on Rain. “Maybe we’ll have another chance! There’s other award shows coming up, so maybe that might change the Ministry’s mind if we win those!”

Dewdrop, who had been quietly seething the moment a hopeful outlook was mentioned- so much so that both Aether and Rain who sat next to him could feel heat radiating off of him in waves- finally exploded.

“CAN’T YOU SEE THAT THERE ARE NO MORE CHANCES?! WE’RE FUCKED! THERE’S NOTHING WE CAN DO! WHY CAN’T YOU GET IT THROUGH YOUR GODDAMN HEADS?!” he screeched, rising from his seat as he did, his tail thrashing violently behind him. His fury was meant for all of them, but it found an easy target in Sunshine, her words the most recent and her buttons so easy to push, making her the freshest and most perfect of fodder.

The other seven ghouls were taken aback by their pack mate’s sudden detonation, a few of them even jumping in their seats upon the start of Dewdrop’s screaming. It had seemed as if the fire ghoul still had smoldering coals of heated emotions from earlier that day and had only needed the energy and the (what was in his mind) naive hope of the others to reignite it.

Strangled hiccups that signaled the beginning of tears came from the multi-ghoulette, not understanding what she did that made her deserve such treatment. She hated it when people screamed angrily at her. Too many times had it happened over the littlest things in her time before she joined the Ghost project, and now she found that the minute it occurred, she would find herself transported back months, hell, even years, to the unsavory moments in her life that she always tried to forget. They- even Dewdrop, who explicitly and empathetically acknowledged the fact when she told him- knew this. So why , why would he scream at her ? Especially when all she was trying to do was be hopeful in a time that felt so bleak. She was just trying to help.

As the tears began to roll down Sunny’s face, her hands flew to clasp over her mouth, attempting to stifle her hitching breath. Swiss shifted off of Rain so that he sat in front of Sunshine, blocking the fire ghoul’s line of sight and subsequent focus on his target.

“Dude, what the fuck ?” he growled, his ears pinned flat and eerily white fangs bared, one hand reaching out to hold it protectively in front of the multi-ghoulette behind him.

With his concentration on Sunshine now broken and his mind reeling with emotions that made his rib cage feel as if it were about to break, Dewdrop’s eyes scanned over each of his packmates erratically, desperate to find someone who understood. He needed someone who would justify what he felt. Justify his explosiveness. Justify something , but when he was met only with weary or guarded stares, he suddenly felt as if he had been backed against a wall. Superheated feelings of what he interpreted as betrayal boiled inside his gut as hot tears and snot began to drip from his eyes and nose, catching in his mustache in a gross mixture, to which he wiped- or more so scrubbed- furiously from his face with the back of his sleeve.

Aether’s voice came steady and low, trying to avoid becoming another trigger for the fire ghoul, knowing all too well that his targeted hostility wasn’t true to how he felt outside of this moment of intensity.

“Dew, you’re having an episode. Go take some time to yourself, see if it helps, yeah?”

The fire ghoul’s body trembled where he stood, a mixture of red-hot rage and ice-cold dread overtaking every fiber of his being.

“ Fuck you, fuck all of you. You guys don’t fucking care what happens ,” he spat halfheartedly, his words wavering with the quiver of his chin. With another particularly aggressive swipe to his nose with his sleeve and a sniff, he stormed to his room, slamming the door behind him.

A moment of uncomfortable quiet fell on the remaining seven, with the exhalation of held breaths and the soft coos of Swiss’ voice as he helped Sunshine come down from her fit of tears the only sounds that managed to perforate the silence. However, if one were to listen closely, other sounds could be heard just faintly. Ones of stifled sobs and curses, bleeding from under Dewdrop’s door.

Leaning forward from where he sat on the couch so that his elbows rested on his knees, Aether put his face in his hands and let out a strained groan. It sounded as if he were one minor inconvenience away from utterly losing it, just one stain on his shirt or spilled drink away from tumbling over the edge. Then his resolve would break, and with it would come the tears. Ones that would ultimately leave him a blubbering mess that couldn’t seem to do anything right for his family. When Aether felt himself begin to reach that tearful precipice of no return as he began to mull over every little thing that had gone wrong that day, however, he felt a soft hand come to rest on his shoulder. While it did little besides lay against his clothed skin, its presence offered a sense of comfort he had craved since the day had started. It might have not been much- sort of like putting a bandaid on a bullet wound- but it was something.

The quintessence ghoul refrained from looking up despite the touch, instead opting to continue to smother his face within his hands and focusing on the tightness that was now starting to release its hold- if only slightly- on his chest. His sight wasn’t necessary for him to discern who it was anyways. By the touch alone, he could tell that it was Rain. What Aether could not tell though, was the look he wore on his face as he looked down at him. His eyes- circled by dark rings of tiredness- were half-lidded and soft, watching the bigger ghoul next to him with an understanding that most anyone outside of their pack could never even dream to have. Aether felt the drag of his rings and the gentle brush of the water ghoul’s cool fingers slide up and down his shoulder blade languidly, lulling him further into a calming state. He may not have been a quintessence ghoul, but he was good .

Rain’s voice was placid as it had been when comforting Dewdrop in the limousine earlier, offering not to comfort Aether but Sunshine now, knowing that the quintessence ghoul felt it as one of his responsibilities to keep the peace but had been clearly overwhelmed with it all.

“Sorry Dew lashed out like that, it’s sorta been a while since he has… He was doing so well too…” Rain paused to take a slow breath, with his exhale equally as slow, but forceful this time, the air exiting through his nose with an audible hiss. “I think today got to him.”

Sunshine, her tears subsiding thanks to Swiss’ comforts, sniffed loudly, rubbing at her red-rimmed eyes with the heels of her palms. Her voice had the smallest amount of a croak to it, her throat still congested from her crying.

“I-I know he doesn’t mean it, not after he comes out of it, a-at least,” Sunshine hiccuped. “But the yelling- he knows. He knows I can’t handle that. I just…” she trailed off as her lip began to tremble and tears once again threatened to spring to her golden eyes. “I just can’t think this was our last chance! I don’t want Papa to leave us!”

“None of us do, Sunbeam,” Swiss said, an almost startling somberness to his demeanor as he shifted to take Sunshine into his arms. With a tiredness that could only be described as oppressive taking over his limbs, Swiss let his body drape her back and rested his chin gently in the crook of her neck. A faint, wheezy purr (one that Cumulus always pointed out was probably due to the various ways he smoked) built ever so slowly in his throat. “Like Rainy said in the limo, I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”-

These were the last words that would hang in the air, hovering over the heads of each of the ghouls like a personal rain cloud as a blanket of silence descended on them once again.

—-

Seconds. Then minutes. Then the better part of an hour had passed. No matter how long the span of time between when they last saw Copia and now grew, there was still no sign of him.

While many of the ghouls couldn’t begin to tell how long it had been since he had departed from the entrance to their quarters, it had been long enough for each of them to slip into their rooms and trade their disheveled uniforms for something more comfortable ( properly comfortable , not naked- as the innuendo so often alluded to). However, perhaps operating on the nonsensical belief that if Copia were to arrive at their door and there was no one to receive him, they’d miss their chance and he’d be gone for good, the ghouls took turns slinking off to their rooms. One by one they went, with one ghoul going and returning, the common room reverting back to the stagnant silence that had befallen it when their earlier conversations ceased once the ghoul returned to where they sat. Only when the next ghoul- whoever decided that they would be next to go- got up and headed for their room, would the cycle start again.

All while there was still no sign of head nor (metaphorical) tail of their Papa as each of the ghouls took their turns to change, they still returned to the common room to wait in silence. It wasn’t until Aether returned from his room, the last one to trade out his clothes, that Mountain broke the silence. His first syllable cracked with a voice gravelly from disuse.

“D-did any of you find Papa’s reasons to leave to be a bit, I dunno-” He paused for a second, trying to find the best word to describe it, but settled on something simple when no other words would suffice. “ Weird ?” The earth ghoul shifted uncomfortably in the armchair he found himself in, the old leather creaking as he sat up from his slumped position. “I mean, s’not like he hasn’t washed up here before or borrowed clothes, though I’m sure there’s some of his lyin’ somewhere around here.”

“He might’ve wanted some time alone. He probably has a lot to think about and stuff to process,” Cirrus offered, her tendency to reserve her inner emotional turbulence to herself and herself alone, evident from her suggestion.

“But what about how he acted, like, overall ? Like I said earlier, even if he’s taking time for himself, what about that bizarre switch? First, he was all out of it and then suddenly acting all hunky-dory,” Cumulus said, still sitting with Cirrus, with her side pressed heavily into hers. She wiggled in place and made brisk, back-and-forth motions with her arms as if she were marching jovially, as though the gesture would help further get her point across.

Mountain, tilting his head as to look over his thick-rimmed glasses that sat low on his nose, pointed a lanky finger towards Cumulus briefly, as if to say “ exactly ”.

Aether sucked in a large breath of air as if he had just been unfrozen, the noise loud enough to startle some of the ghouls. It felt like the first deep breath he had taken in ages.

“I’ll go check on him,” he said, pushing himself up from the couch with a grunt, his weary body unwilling to return to a state of motion. He had been searching for an excuse to entertain his anxieties and go after Copia, and this would likely be the only chance he’d get. If it was squandered and found himself attempting it at a different time, he’d likely find himself facing prying questions. Questions he feared would cause the others to dissuade him from following the man, claiming he was being too overbearing, and that he needed to learn to let negative emotions sit and develop for once and not to try and fix everything. He was known to overstep, despite his best intentions, after all.

He needed a chance to rectify his failures. He just needed to fix this.

Before anyone could say otherwise, Aether made his way to the main door, borderline jogging to the exit, but made sure to grab his phone from where it lay on a nearby side table as he did.

Just as Cirrus began to shift from her seat, leaning forward as if she were about to get up and say something, Aether swung open the door and stepped out, but not before plucking a ring of keys from the mounted wall hooks. Whose they were he didn’t really care. As long as they had the key to their shared common room, it would suffice. It wasn’t like they locked their personal rooms anyways. He closed the door behind him, the frame rattling briefly with the nervous strength Aether accidentally imposed onto the door as he shut it. However, a second later, he opened it again, ducking his head into the common room to see the six haggard and mildly confused faces looking back at him. The whole scene would have been bordering on comical if it weren’t for the given circumstances.

“I’ll let you guys know what’s going on once I know, kay?” He said, waving his phone back and forth in an upheld hand as if the others couldn’t guess the method by which he would contact them. “An’ check up on Dew in a bit for me, please? I want to make sure he’s doing alright after cooling down- if he has by then.”

Swiss, untangling an arm from around Sunshine (whom he found himself wrapped around again), gave him a lethargic thumbs up and accompanying half-smile.

“Got it, big guy. We’ll text you.”

“Thanks.”

Closing the door once again, Aether felt a chill dance down his back, finding its way into his arms and hands, a cold, tingling pain culminating in his palms.

Time to find Papa .

----

His body had gone numb, his limbs and mouth acting of their own accord the minute the winner’s name left the announcer’s lips. Everything felt like a dream- or, more accurately, a nightmare. With his head swimming and mind buzzing as they left the venue and made their drive back home ( was it really home though? ), his world distorted and blurred. It was as if he were looking through a fishbowl filled with silt-emulsified water.

His legs felt weak and muscleless like they couldn’t possibly bear his weight upon exiting the limo, but they somehow had. This feat he hadn’t thought himself capable of held his meager focus until he found himself beginning to fall, though his legs managed to stay underneath him once again. It wasn’t until he took in the faces of his ghouls as they all stood there- his attention drawn by the bark of Aether’s name- that he found an ounce of true, in-the-present consciousness within himself, just enough to recognize the look of sickening worry and fear that the creatures he loved so dearly held for him. Just enough to want- no- need to try and placate that fear and worry, albeit in his own uncanny and avoidant way.

The numbness had persisted as he made his disingenuous promise that he would come back to the ghouls once he had changed clothes, and it continued to persist as he tried to find somewhere private he could think.

He had tried the bone-chilling mausoleum- the wing of the abbey in cruel proximity to his room and more private than his own room, which had been an equally cruel fact- that held the preserved bodies of his brothers and father. They still looked as they had when he had last seen them in their caskets years ago, never having the wherewithal to expose himself to the sight of their forms lying dead since then. And they would continue to look the same probably long after he would be added to the display, until the expert embalming wore off, at least.

While the numbness that filled his body and mind was able to dampen the shock that came with seeing them (save for Nihil, he saw enough of the bastard in his ghost form and on stage) in their glass coffins, it could not deaden the perpetual sensation of eyes boring into every inch of his body as he stood there in the faint candlelight. Whether the eyes belonged to his brothers- ones he would assume were glaring with distaste or disdain, thanks to the unfavorable way in which the relationship he had held with them had left off, thanks to their untimely demise, or said demise in general- Nihil, or some other inconspicuous damned souls and beasts was not something he could withstand the feeling long enough to find out. Anyways, the sight of the four deceased Papas was too direct of a confrontation of his situation, even if the topic of his mortality and the things to come was the topic of his thoughts that he so desperately sought a place peaceful enough for him to consider.

The numbing wave of dissociation had begun to lose its hold on Copia as he found himself walking down the corridor to his room, his world beginning to fall in on him ever so slowly like a collapsing bridge, its cables fraying and snapping one by one until it all came crashing down.

He had resigned himself to accepting that the best place he could afford himself privacy was his room, despite it being the first place Sister Imperator would look for him and her ownership of the copy of the key to the singular lock on the door (a fact that she would remind him of far too often for him to recall). Though, he at least had a door this time. Maybe he could barricade it with something heavy like the sofa, but that’s assuming he’d be able to move it, and that Sister wouldn’t employ some ghoul to overpower the blockage and break through.

Beginning to exhaust his options through the consideration of outcomes as he neared his room, his thoughts began to turn to the very topics he was trying to find somewhere to deliberate over in the first place. His mind, ever exhausted in its efforts from years of events and emotions (many largely negative) that his words could not begin to hope to convey, jumped to the bleak place that it so often sprung towards in times when everything seemed too hard and nothing he did was ever enough. An urge that had been lurking under the surface since they had left their seats at the venue, only occluded by the protective shroud that years of turmoil allowed him to employ.

It was an option. More of an option than he’d been given any time before, and it was one that he found something deep within himself wanting to entertain- to an extent, at the very least.

---

Copia, after visiting his room and putting the essentials in order as a precaution, found himself on the lip of what was virtually the only accessible and flat roof of the abbey, the final shard of protection that his dissociative state had offered gone, and the weight of everything, absolutely everything , crashing in on him.

The nightmare that had begun when those words- those few meager words- rang through the speakers on stage had become real. And with it, his hopes, his dreams, the measly chance he had had at being seen as something more than a screw up- maybe even the chance of saving himself- died, becoming a metaphorical tomb and sealing his fate. Even if there were a few more music videos, a few more shows, a few more tours, a few more whatevers - it was over. He was done for. He had known his time was coming soon if he failed to find a way to circumvent his fate, and yet, it was no easier to accept now that it was set in stone. The Ministry would be coming for him and there was little he could do to change that.

Maybe it would have been better if he were blissfully ignorant, unaware of what awaited him at the end of the road, but how could he have been? Despite how dumb and oblivious people thought him to be, despite how dumb and oblivious he believed himself to be, it was impossible to miss. He had been doomed the minute he had accepted the position of frontman for Ghost and he had been doomed the minute he ascended from Cardinal to Papa. Perhaps- he thought to the white iris that lay within his left eye, a gloved hand coming up to wipe at the smudged makeup beneath it- he had been doomed since birth. He was a part of the Emeritus bloodline, of course. It was a status originally seen as a blessing, though now, through malignant transformation brought on by the very people the bloodline was instructed to represent, it had become a curse. One that promised a life that was not truly yours and an untimely, possibly violent, end.

Just the thought of dying at the hand of the Ministry made his blood run cold. Ice filled his veins, sending a nauseating chill through his body, one that ultimately settled itself deep within his limbs and spine, his mind’s ability to sequester himself from reality no longer able to shield him from the visceral feelings that filled his chest when he thought back the deaths that befell his brothers.

His brothers, oh, Lucifer, his brothers. The sight of the three, laying in false serenity in their eternal glass casket home resurfaced, the scene striking him with full force now. Why did it have to end on such a sour note? Why couldn’t he have been nicer? Why couldn’t he have gotten over himself and stopped acting like a goddamn child, jealous of his siblings because they got what he had thought he wanted. Satanas, Terzo had died thinking he hated him because he couldn’t control how much he envied him.

Dear Lord, Terzo-

The image of the third Emeritus son’s severed head in his hands wormed its way into his mind’s eye and with it, rose the bile in his throat. The very thought of it- a memory that he had shoved down, far into the recesses of his mind as it could go- transported him back to that very moment with the macabre sensations that came with it very much intact. The sickening sensation of what was left of his brother’s cold and clotted blood pooling in his gloved hands ghosted the skin of his palms. The dark, gelatinous globs slipping through his fingers sluggishly, then landing on the unforgiving marble floor with a sickening plap . The only coherent thought that had filled his mind back then (besides the nonsensical abject horror that made his brain feel as though it were composed of T.V. static) was how deceptively heavy the human head was.

It had been years since that photo shoot, but those thoughts had yet to fail to bring him back to that moment- the horror, the grief, the guilt- fresh as the day it happened. He could almost feel the weight of the head- all five kilograms of it- in his hands right then.

The overwhelming urge to vomit and the subsequent vertigo that came with it flooded his system, causing him to begin to retch. As he gagged, a particularly strong dry heave overtook his body, causing him to sway from where he sat, his body wanting to follow the weight of his legs that dangled over the lip of stone. His hands shot behind him, scrambling to grab the other side. A terror-inducing fraction of a second passed before his fingers finally found purchase, anchoring themselves to the stone and steadying his center of gravity. He swallowed the urge to dry heave once more.

Not yet. He still needed to think.

Maybe he deserved it, that possibility of a brutal death. Maybe that’s what his choices and his failures had earned him. His brothers’ deaths had been his fault after all. Even if Sister Imperator had sanctioned the order, he was the one who wanted to be Papa. He had wanted it from such a young age, ever since Sister had told him about the position, saying that she could see him becoming Papa and even hoped to see him take up the role. So, by him wanting this , he was the reason they were dead because it had been all for him- right? All in order for Sister Imperator’s little boy to become Papa and lead the Ministry to even greater heights. Or that was the plan, but, as one of Nihil’s favorite things to point out (and it stung just to admit the dickhead made a point) he had failed to do that too, time and time again.

He wiped the burgeoning tears from his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket, black and white paint smearing gray into the dark fabric. Oh, how he knew how he would be yelled at for ruining such an expensive outfit with his makeup and tears.

Yes, maybe he deserved that kind of death, but willingly subject himself to the Ministry’s mercy? He wasn’t sure he could. He was a coward at heart, after all. He’d likely sooner find himself trying to flee, but ultimately become cornered by a pack of ravenous ghouls, sent for retribution. He would plead and cry for mercy as he pissed himself in terror like the pathetic little boy he was before their terrible claws and fangs would sink into his flesh, ripping him apart.

There was always the option he could take things into his own hands. That’s what he had gone up there to consider, right? To finally listen to that little voice in the back of his head that so often told him to give in. Ultimately, the result would be the same, just kinder, sparing himself the cruelty and humiliation that the Ministry likely had in store for him. He was tired anyways.

Engrossed by the ever-multiplying swarm of thoughts as he considered his options, the mere feeling of existence as they ran rampant in his brain becoming so overwhelming that it made his crawl, Copia missed the warbling creak of the rooftop hatch pushing open and the stocky ghoul that clamored through it. It wasn’t until he spoke that Copia was pulled from this state, his body jolting slightly in shock, threatening to pitch him over the edge once again. Thankfully, his hands flew to steady himself as they had before, preventing his second almost-premature-plummet of the night.

“ You’re way too close to that ledge there for me to be comfortable, Papa ,” Aether said through a stilted chuckle as he began to inch toward the man. A thin layer of humor coated his words as if he hoped that the scene he had happened upon was just a product of bad timing- and maybe it partly was- but in reality, it was to obscure the obvious tremble of his voice.

He was scared. He was so fucking scared, and Copia wasn’t oblivious to it. He knew how this looked, what it implied. He knew what Aether thought was going to happen (and maybe it would). But, as much as Copia longed for comfort from Aether, something stoney that had planted itself within his core so many years ago as a way of self-preservation, reared its head once again, the desire to cut ties with any person that so much as hinted at caring about him quickly mounting.

He knew Sister and Nihil didn’t concern themselves with his well-being, no matter how many times he had attempted to change that. From an early age, that had been clear to him, even if he had tried to deny it. But his ghouls, his beloved ghouls, they cared about him. He knew that for a fact. They cared so deeply for him that it hurt. It was a vile and sickening ache that sat in his chest and spread to his limbs, creating the overwhelming urge to peel away his skin in a desperate attempt to escape the disgust that rose inside him like the bile in his throat. It didn’t have much to do with the idea of being vulnerable- that was something he had little trouble being. If anything, he was too vulnerable, too quick to open himself up and lay down his heart to anyone who so much as offered him an ounce of kindness, leaving him defenseless against anyone who chose to use it against him. No, it was the fact that to these people- these ghouls - who loved him so wholly, so rawly, all he could be was a burden. An anxious and awkward mess who screwed up things more often than he seemed to get them right, and yet, they still loved him. It wasn’t fair. He loved them too much to accept taking all that he did while providing them with so little.

Copia’s hands rose to the sides of his head, the heels of his palms hitting there repeatedly as a sound somewhere between anguish and aggravation made its way through his gritted teeth. Everything was too much. His skin was buzzing with electric, searing heat and his head felt as if it was about to burst, but he didn’t want to put Aether through this. The quintessence ghoul didn’t deserve to absorb how he felt. He didn’t deserve to have to deal with him.

“I’m fine, Aether. Pl-please just go back to the others. I’m okay, I just need to think,” he gasped, pleading from between each impact his palms made against his skull, desperate to convince the ghoul to leave and spare himself from the embarrassment that was his Papa. Copia knew deep down that it was a shit lie, however, and the quintessence ghoul would see right through it.

“Bull shite you’re fine, and you can bet your ass I’m not going anywhere. Now get down from that fuckin’ ledge,” he growled, lunging towards Copia.

Before he could find the ability to react, the ghoul was on him, a clawed hand clamping around his wrist while the other grabbed a handful of the collar of his dark jacket. The sudden and almost unheard-of harshness from Aether startled him into limp submission, allowing himself to be dragged off his perch like a ragdoll and promptly falling on his ass as he dropped to the roof’s flat base.

With his wits returning to him, Copia scrambled on his hands and knees in a fruitless attempt to put distance between him and Aether. A primal sense of fear manifested within him, coiling throughout his body as he looked up at the formidable creature, the panic flooding his brain making Aether unrecognizable as anything other than a threat. Through pleas for mercy and strings of “no’s” that spilled from his mouth as he gave up on his unsuccessful creation of space between himself and the ghoul, Copia brought his legs to his chest and buried his face into his knees. The sickening image of the scenario he had imagined not long ago, where a horde of ghouls was sent to slaughter him at the order of the Ministry consumed his mind, convincing him that as this monster stared down at him with its shining eyes, it was plotting the best way to make the kill.

A sliver of him still recognized Aether as the kind and gentle ghoul he truly was in this fight-or-flight state and it was this part of him that fought against his uncontrolled panic, his rational (although it truly was far from that at this very moment) and the primitive parts of his brain vying for dominance. However, as the fear began to ebb away, it gave way to shame.

Unable to withstand the feeling of so much with so little ability to process it, he curled in on himself as tightly as his body would allow and began to rock back and forth in a desperate effort to self-regulate.

In this undoubtedly preoccupied state, Copia failed to notice the look of horror that had developed on Aether’s face the moment the man had reacted in such terror. What he could only describe as a hellish mixture of abject shame and self-loathing flooded his system. All energy he had left inside himself imploded, like that of a collapsing black hole, dropping him to his knees.

“Shit. Fuck. Papa- Papa, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-“ he all but wept, reaching out a shaking hand towards the man, but retracting it upon second consideration. Instead, he sat, no less than a few feet between them, and watched Copia with eyes filled with apprehensive concern. He wanted to help. He was desperate to help and make things right but look at where that had gotten them. Unsure in his abilities more than ever, Aether hesitated to call upon his quintessence, fearful that his powers would only accomplish setting him off even further.

Mercifully, however, given some time, Copia’s self-soothing attempts began to work just enough to allow him to return to a state just outside the realm of utter meltdown.

The primal, unfounded fear that Aether’s sudden lunge sparked within him was gone, but the creeping tendrils of his chagrin that claimed any amount of space within his brain that had been surrendered by his panic began to consume him from the inside out, once again souring the mere presence of one of his beloved ghouls. On better days, the close proximity of the quintessence ghoul to himself would have offered Copia a semblance, his presence and magic acting as an anchor for his mind that was often lost within a raging storm, but today was not a better day. This time, it only brought guilt and shame.

While he was not like Sister Imperator and Nihil, treating the ghouls as though the hellbeasts were merely hired help and seated far beneath them, the fragile state that Copia found himself in had him putting far too much importance on what they would have thought about the scene.

If only they could see him now. A Papa, scared of one of his own ghouls to the point of breaking down, allowing them to order him around and to manhandle him like a disobedient child. What a joke. He was supposed to be a leader, but in reality, he was more of a mouse than a man, incapable of standing his ground.

Copia shifted away from Aether as far as his balled-up position would allow, trying to escape the searing burn of the ghoul’s steel-colored eyes against his skin. His irises undoubtedly glowed a faint but gorgeous white in the darkness of the night, not unlike the full moon that hung above their heads. It was something Copia would have relished given almost any other circumstance- Aether, like his other ghouls, being so beautiful as if he were made in the image of Lucifer himself. All he found himself able to do, however, was shrink away from the ghoul, his body trembling like a leaf.

What felt like an eternity inched by as the two sat like this, the silence breaking only once the sensation of the quintessence ghoul’s celestial-like eyes had become unbearable. Turning his head to the side just enough that he could glimpse the blurry figure of Aether out of his right eye, Copia spoke in a quiet voice, his words broken by the lump that rose in his throat.

“I wasn’t going to kill myself.”

While it wasn’t a bald-faced lie, he hadn’t gone to the roof with the single mission to walk off of it and end his life, it wasn’t the complete truth either. He was there to give himself a semblance of control, an option in his otherwise option-less life. There was no commitment to a singular path just yet, he had to consider his choices. This just so happened to be one and a damn convenient time to do so.

Though the ghoul had said nothing (truthfully having nothing he could say that would help in his mind) he reached out a hesitant hand once more at this. It hovered half way between them, jerking forward ever so slightly in aborted half-attempts at bridging the space between him and Copia as Aether searched for any signs of fear or objection. When there was none, the man remaining unresponsive to the movement, Aether continued his push, hesitating and hovering (if only for a second) his hand over Copia’s back before allowing it to rest against him.

The pressure was firm but tender, a common staple of the ghoul’s own brand of physical affection and something Copia had come to revere and crave after having endured years of deprivation of anything remotely close to it. He fought desperately against his carnal need for comfort, something he had only truly become accustomed to in adulthood through his relationships with his ghouls, and in brief moments in his childhood, through his brothers.

The desire to lean wholly into Aether and cry until his throat was raw and could no longer produce tears was growing at a breakneck pace. Why did he have to make it so hard? The ghouls had already done too much for him, especially Aether. He was pathetic to need this, to require his ghouls of all people to offer him solace in a time where he should have succeeded in the first place. His brothers hadn’t been like this with theirs, so why was he?

All while Copia continued to struggle within himself, Aether’s clawed hand began to rub circles against his back, expertly working at breaking down the already crumbling barrier that his Papa had put up between them with gentle determination, his quintessence admittedly aiding in making the man more pliant. The ghoul knew when Copia’s damaged resolve broke when tears began to spill down his cheeks.

In a last-ditch attempt to feign composure, Copia tried to wipe away his rapidly falling tears with the heels of his hands, though he only accomplished further mixing the remains of his Papal paint together.

“I don’t want to die, I, I-I’m just-” Copia said through increasing amounts of hitches in his breath.

This fragment of a statement wasn’t entirely the truth. Admittedly, there had been many a time when he wouldn’t have agreed with the sentiment of his words. Whether it was an outright wish for death or just the desire to stop existing, that nagging urge- the very one that had brought him up there- had been something that had been prevalent for most of his life, and he’d be lying even more if he said it hadn’t gotten worse since his ascension. It pounded at the forefront of his brain, screaming, ear-splittingly loud, for him to give in. To give up. It was all he wanted to do. He was tired. He was so fucking tired and beaten down, and all he wanted was for it to stop.

It was when the hitches in his breath came to a crescendo, his spilling tears threatening to turn into loud, wailing sobs, that Aether threw his cautionary approach to the wind, bringing his clawed hand away from his Papa’s shoulder to wrap around the man’s curved waist and pull him into a tight embrace. Copia’s head lay buried into Aether’s chest, his body still curled tightly around himself, as the ghoul squeezed him within his arms as much as his human body could safely withstand, knowing that deep pressure had always helped ground the man.

However, in this circumstance, all it accomplished was push Copia over the precipice that he had been trying to steer away from so frantically. He gave in. Not to the thoughts and urges that had brought him to the moon-bathed rooftop, but to Aether’s unyielding compassion. Abandoning his train of thought and leaving his sentence unfinished, Copia returned Aether’s vice-like embrace with desperate strength, his gloved hands digging into the small of the ghoul’s back as full, gut-wrenching sobs spilled from his lungs.

Through his own quiet tears, Aether looked down at the man he held in his arms and pressed his lips to the crown of his head, leaving them there as he brought a hand to the back of Copia’s head, pressing him further against his broad chest. Rocking gently in place together, Aether coaxed the tears from him little by little, pressing kisses to the top of Copia’s head all the while, until his wails became soft, hiccuping breaths, and his iron grip around the ghoul’s torso merely became where he rested his arms.

Shifting as to look up into the quintessence ghoul’s metallic eyes, the color more of a clouded pewter now that a shadow cast over his face, Copia blinked the remaining wetness from his reddened eyes and mumbled his thanks, his voice thick and hoarse.

“Of course,” Aether murmured back, threading the graying strands of hair that lay stuck to Copia’s face, thanks to his sweat, through his fingers, smoothing them back into place. There was a moment of silence as they sat like this, looking tired but gratefully into each other’s eyes, until Aether broke the silence with a question, though he was still hesitant on whether he truly wanted the answer. “Can, uh, can I ask you a question?”

“Hm?”

“What were you up here for, like, really ?”

Copia’s gaze returned to chest level, his eyes looking off nowhere in particular. “I-” he started, pausing for what felt like ages as he deliberated what he would say. “I don’t wanna lie to you, I was considering it, er, uh, jumping .” He cleared his throat, his voice a fraction less occluded. “I, eh, had been since we got back. Not seriously though, or, well- ah fuck,” he sighed with frustration, failing at trying to convey the intentions he had just a bit ago. “I thought about it but wasn’t gonna do anything initially. I was trying to find a place to be alone but couldn’t and then, poof , I was on the roof.”

One of Copia’s arms had drawn back from hanging around Aether’s waist, his finger now drawing absent-minded circles on the ghoul’s chest.

“What about your room? Everythin’ was all laid out.”

“Precautionary action.”

“Is that why you didn’t stay with us and were acting all… odd ?”

“Suppose my acting wasn’t the best.” Copia gave a dry chuckle but it died quickly. ”But, eh, yes and no. I just didn’t want to be a burden or worry you guys, with how much of a mess I caused at the Grammys. But it worked in favor of, uh,” he raised an eyebrow briefly as if gesturing to the end of the roof, “yeah.” Pausing for a second to take a deep breath in, Copia opened his mouth to continue but was interrupted abruptly.

“That wasn’t your fault. If anything, that was on me. I was suppose’ta keep everythin’ in order but I fucked it up. I froze,” he confessed almost readily. The muscles in Aether’s jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth together tight enough that he could feel his gold tooth creak, fighting against pinprick tears of shame that rose to his eyes. “I couldn’t keep things under control, I couldn’t help Dew- I couldn’t even stop Dew- and now there’s a rift between him and Sunny… And I couldn’t even help you and that’s part of why I was summoned in the first place! ‘To protect the Papa you’re assigned to’.” He said as if rattling off a piece of legislation. “But I just made it worse! Fuck , I scared you so badly you looked like you thought I was going to kill you! Fuckin’ kill you ! And if I couldn't help you today without fuckin’ it up, what makes me able to protect you when it comes down to it? I saw what happened to Terzo. I can’t-”

It was Aether’s turn to expose his vulnerable underbelly, pleading guilty to his self-proclaimed sins in the presence of the one he felt he wronged the most. He took a great, shuddering breath, his gaze now torn away from the man leaning against his chest in an effort to obscure his view of his glossy eyes.

Copia shifted where he sat so that his head rested against the quintessence ghoul’s shoulder instead of his chest and brought the hand that had been absentmindedly drawing shapes to the side of Aether’s face. His fingers ran against the black sideburns that grew down the length of the ghoul’s taut jaw, his mismatched eyes gazing at the ghoul’s features with the softest expression. Even if Copia couldn’t see the tears brimming in Aether’s eyes from the position he sat in, he could see the shades of mulberry on his mole-speckled cheeks, growing steadily the longer he tried to fight off tears. Tracing the sideburn up his jawline to the side of his head, Copia carded his fingers through the ghoul’s hair, its texture almost fur-like and surprisingly soft. He continued to move his hand through Aether’s hair, following the natural curve of his head, only to stop just behind his ear. They were somewhat small for a ghoul, his ears a relatively short length- even with their pointed tips- but they still bore an array of piercings, with gauges adorning his earlobes and a variety of hoops along the rest of it.

Copia’s fingers reached the base of his ear, right where the shell met his skull, and began to scratch lightly with a particular knowing behind his deft movements. Within seconds, the ghoul’s head leaned heavily into his hand, like a dog would if you scratched an itch just right, with a very faint, somewhat broken, purr rumbling in his throat. A small smile spread across Copia’s lips as he watched this formidable ghoul (though he had the personality of a large, overly friendly dog) melt into his touch, the tears that he fought so hard to contain now beginning to dry. He continued to scratch as he trailed his hand back down Aether’s jaw, stopping at his chin. With a delicate hold on his face, Copia brought the ghoul’s gaze down to meet his.

“You did your best. That’s all I could ask for.”

Aether was quiet for a second, his expression dark as if considering something troubling. Then he spoke, his voice low, bordering on a whisper.

“Sorry for being rough with ya’. I know it’s no excuse for it, but I was so scared . I couldn’t think and I just-” He lifted up a hand to mimic grabbing Copia’s wrist.

“It’s okay.”

“But-”

“ Orsacchiotto , I promise you, it is okay,” Copia said, a firmness in his voice that told Aether he wasn’t willing to argue on the matter. In most other situations, Aether, being someone who had to be liked by everyone, would have continued to loathe himself and fixate on what he did wrong- the hardened tone that the usually soft-spoken man developed only exacerbated the issue, no matter how much Copia tried to dispel the idea that he was angry with Aether- if it wasn’t for that pet name.

Orsacchiotto . Big bear .

It was a name he had only heard Copia say with the utmost adoration, and, despite the exhaustion, despite his steadfast opposition to Aether’s objections, that remained true.

Still giddy after all these years, the special name that Copia had just for him never failed to bring a smile to his face.

“I thought I was the one who was suppose’ta be comfortin’ you,” he said with a halfhearted snort.

“Ah, don’t give me that bullshit. Group effort, go team” Copia said with a playful smack of his hand to Aether’s chest.

The ghoul belted out a deep, hardy laugh, his entire upper body shaking with the noise. It was good to hear that laugh again. The sound was as boisterous as Aether and a representation of him as a whole as if one were to boil him down to an essence so that only the quintessential parts of his being remained. A large, albeit tired, smile spread to Copia’s face at this, the sound of his ghoul’s laugh herding the harsh events of the day that plagued his mind into a place for later. Somewhere they can pick up when he is ready.

“Suppose you’re right,” he said, his laugh dying down though his amusement was still audible in his voice. “Suppose Rain was right too, we’ll figure somethin’ out. Not tonight though.” Aether leaned his head to the side so that it rested against Copia’s, the purr that had started up in his throat spreading to his chest, reverberating loud and clear. “Tonight-“ he was interrupted by a yawn, “tonight, we focus on sleep.”

Copia hummed, his eyes closed and face lax. Not for the removed and dissociative state of his mind, but from genuine, honest to Lucifer, serenity. Things were likely to get even rockier in the future, but tonight- tonight - was for this. He only wished the other seven were here with them.

“Sounds perfect.”

----

What time it had been when he and Aether finally descended from the roof of the abbey and back into the living quarters completely eluded Copia. All he knew, as he now stood nude in front of the porcelain bathtub, his posture hunched and arms crossed tightly over his chest as he watched the steam begin to billow from the rising water, was that his bones ached and he was utterly exhausted.

Hearing the sound of the sink faucet’s water stream join the drone of the filling tub, Copia lazily looked over his shoulder. Behind him stood Aether, equally naked, as he ran a washcloth underneath the water. The view of his soft yet well-muscled frame, while he busied himself with soaking the cloth, was something Copia drank in gratefully, even if it was a sight he had seen many times before.

Crossing the admittedly small distance between them, Aether caressed Copia’s jaw with a large hand. The ghoul’s claws pressed ever so lightly into the flesh of his cheek as he began to wipe away the long ruined makeup on his face. His eyelids fluttered closed as Aether continued to rid his skin of the black, white, and gray paint smeared on his face, the freckles that dotted so much of his face and body becoming more visible with every drag of the washcloth. Once he had deemed his job adequate enough, Aether tossed the irreparably stained washcloth onto the sink counter, making a wet plap as it landed, and returned his attention to the man in front of him. Copia began to make a mental note to move the cloth into the sink later so as to not cause any undue mess, but his mind was quickly pulled from the thought as Aether’s arms wrapped around his torso, pulling his body into his. A small sigh escaped his lips as Aether pressed a line of kisses down his neck and onto his shoulder, focusing on the spots where his freckles gathered most. They had always been a feature of his that his ghouls adored, and Aether was no exception.

One of the ghoul’s short, dark horns dragged slowly against Copia’s scalp as Aether angled his head to make his way further down his shoulder, all while the ghoul’s spaded tail began to creep up and around his calf. The sensation would have been enough to elicit a moan from him if it weren’t for the overwhelming fatigue that had spread so virulently through his body and brain. Instead, he rested his head in the crook of the ghoul’s neck and basked in the feeling of Aether’s body against his own, one of the few reliable presences he had amidst a never-ending sea of change and surprise.

A few minutes had passed as Copia relished the tenderness in which the large ghoul held him, completely lost in the sensation of it all, until Aether began to unwrap his arm from his body. A weak whine came from within Copia’s throat as Aether pulled away, his hands trying to cling to his body weakly. However, his disappointment was quickly assuaged by the promise that it wouldn’t be long until he could resume his place in Aether’s arms, the ghoul leading him to the bathtub that was now nearly full.

Aether turned off the faucet and stepped into the tub, the water rippling in almost mesmerizing patterns as he sat and sank further in. With an outstretched hand, he beckoned Copia to join him.

Taking the extended hand in his own, Copia climbed into the tub and sat down, his body wiggling its way between Aether’s legs so that his back could rest against the ghoul’s broad torso. Big, well-muscled arms made their way around him again, drawing him further into the ghoul’s embrace as far as their bodies would allow. In another circumstance, the awkward and tight fit of two bodies inside the just-above-average-sized tub would be uncomfortable, aggravating even, but Copia found himself grateful at that moment because the size of the bath only pushed them closer together.

Another sigh escaped from Copia’s lips as his head fell back onto Aether’s chest, the tension in his muscles finally releasing as waves of warmth made their way up his body. A deep, rhythmic rumble, almost like a purr, resonated against Copia’s back.

The two sat there, breathing in the soothing steam, for as long as the temperature of the water held, only beginning to stir once almost unbearably hot became just hot.

---

The bed- or more so, the mattress, given it was completely devoid of a bed frame- was smaller than Aether had remembered. Maybe it was his mind, utterly wiped of most of its logical abilities beyond basic thought, unable to recall such a memory, or maybe he really had been putting on some weight (despite the others saying he was as fit as ever, though he’d still look great if he had). Either way, the twin-sized mattress, adorned only with a royal blue comforter, matching sheets, and a handful of pillows barely fit both him and the man whom the measly thing belonged to. Even as Copia lay wrapped in his embrace, his body pressed up against the ghoul’s as far as humanly (and inhumanly) possible, Aether found parts of him hanging off the edge of the bed, one wrong shift potentially sending him or them both to the ground.

But his Papa was safe for tonight, asleep in his arms and dressed in far softer clothes, snoring quietly into his chest, and no amount of mattress (or lack thereof) could ruin the tired relief that he felt because of it.

Right as Aether felt as if he could no longer fight the heaviness of his eyes, having been determined to stave off sleep for just a little longer, just long enough for him to enjoy a few more minutes of this moment, he heard a vibrating buzz somewhere near his head. Removing an arm from around Copia- who, barely disturbed, uttered only a brief groan and buried himself further under the covers- Aether patted around lightly for the stupid thing, only finding it when, after a particular shift of his arm, he heard a solid thump off the side of the bed.

Craning his neck so that he could just barely see over the edge of the mattress, Aether saw the screen of his phone, alight with the notification of a message sent from Swiss.

Oh, grabbing this was gonna suck.

Aether shifted just enough to let his arm hang free from the bed and fished somewhat blindly for the phone, the muscles in his arm giving a burning protest as he did. Just as it felt as if the muscles were on the brink of tearing in two, his fingers mercifully wrapped around the phone and he was able to bring the damn thing up to his face. Fumbling his passcode a few times (the string of characters proving somewhat difficult to type with a single thumb, but there was no way in hell he’d leave his phone unprotected, making it a free for all for the troublemakers and pranksters of the pack), he swiped through to see the message from Swiss. It had been a brief text, accompanied by a photo.

Guess who made up, it had said, the picture of Dewdrop and Sunshine, laying together on the largest of the couches, their limbs tangled around one another’s to the point that it was hard to tell which belonged to who.

A wash of relief spread over Aether, freeing him from the growing hold that nausea held deep within the pit of his stomach. It had grown faint, borderline ignorable since he had started his mission to find Copia with the feeling of unease over the disharmony between his packmates taking a backseat to the issue of their Papa’s odd behavior. It was only as they lay in the twin-sized bed did it start to quietly build once again, just below the surface.

But it had turned out okay. Dew and Sunny were okay.

As Aether began to type his response of relief, he remembered the promise he had made to the others and snapped a quick photo of himself with Copia wedged against him. Adding the brief caption “Papa’s safe” to his message, Aether sent the text, though, with a moment- albeit tired- thought, he sent another text.

You guys can come over. Better not wake him up tho

It hadn’t been more than five minutes before ghouls started to trickle in, each with their own makeshift bedding, either in their arms or dragging behind them. Some stumbled in, bleary-eyed and yawning, while others took to trying to be silent with the utmost seriousness, either way, Copia remained fast asleep as they each took their spots around or on the small mattress.

By the time everyone had settled, a chorus of purrs filled the room, creating a rumbling blanket of sound, one to soothe even the most anxious of hearts. Even with the odd snoring or mumbling, the moment was utterly serene.

No longer fighting the overwhelming waves of exhaustion that the radiating body heat of his packmates only emphasized, Aether’s body relaxed, fully and truly for what felt like the first time in ages. His eyelids began to droop once again as he listened to the noises of his family- ghoul and human alike- until he was lulled into sleep.

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