Too Little Too Late
Prequel to - The Weight of Worlds
Characters; Garvin, Briar, and Andi. Navis is the only other one mentioned by name, I think.
Word Count; 3,333.
TWs; Swearing, severe self-hatred, severe self worth issues, suicidal ideation, dissociation, drowning, implied past rape/non-con, attempted rape/non-con, abuse, violence, injury, blood, kinda implied but also pretty obvious character death, and messy writing/ending. Honestly, it’s kinda graphic. Maybe more stuff too but I'm not too sure. Proceed with caution.
Notes; So uh. A lot of this is what will happen at the end of the Andi Arc. If anything, the last bit of injuries are just a little bit more severe here than at the end of the Andi Arc. But, yeah, for the most part, this is kinda what you can expect for the end of the Andi Arc. Have fun with how Garvin slowly delves into only using Briar’s constellation nickname in even his thoughts. Little reminder too that Andi has a scar at his left eye that Garvin gave him the last time Andi had kidnapped him. Other than that… Yeah, proceed with caution.
*~*~*~*
He couldn’t quite focus. He was tired. Bri was still pulling at the cuffs around their wrists. There wasn’t a point to it. There never really had been. He hadn’t even tried it all that much the last time he’d been down in this damn basement. He hadn’t tried it at all this time around. More importantly, he’d told Rose not to pull at them. Pulling at them would only mean even more pain. He didn’t want that for them.
-
He almost laughed. Maybe he did. Sift had stopped pulling at the cuffs to look at him, at least. So he probably actually had. He leaned his head back against the pipes behind him, ignored how sore he was, and forced himself to actually look at Tucana. To focus on them. At least with his eyes. The two were alone at the moment, he didn’t know how long that would last. He didn’t think it mattered too much.
-
Ria stared at him. He couldn’t read the look on their face. It didn’t really matter. He grinned, smiled as wide as he could, hoping that he was still good enough at lying to do something for them. His voice wasn’t strong, it wasn’t clear or firm or even all that loud. But he at least managed to lace it in an almost joking tone, he at least managed to raise an eyebrow with it. He at least had enough energy to make sure their nickname was clear. So it was good enough for him. “Didn’ I ‘ell ya not ta pull at ‘em, Tucana?”
-
Their face twisted. He couldn’t tell what it meant. He didn’t really care. He didn’t have the energy to. He was tired. He started to blink before just deciding to keep his eyes closed. He pushed out a hum, just to keep away any silence that could’ve come instead. It didn’t seem like enough. He paused, and then spoke again. “Y’know, uh–” He coughed, trying and failing to help the sore feeling in the back of his throat. He continued anyways, his eyes still closed, “Ya can’t act’lly see Tucana– ‘least mos’a the time– ‘angs too low an’ all.” He paused, trying to find something else to say. He breathed past the water he could still feel in his lungs. “Named fer, uh, y’know. ‘Em brigh’ bi’ds tha’ sa’lors woulda see sumtimes. Ain’t any, uh, y’know. Stories wit’ ‘em. Nice bi’ds ‘ough. Ya ev’ see one, dey’re real frien’ly. Les’ ya piss ‘em off, ‘course. ‘M sure ya’d do fine wit’ ‘em ‘ough.”
-
He blinked, stared at the stairs. He almost thought he heard footsteps. He wasn’t sure. He didn’t care. He blinked, sweeping his eyes around the basement. He swallowed the lump in his throat. He didn’t look over at Mime as he spoke again. “Ya should go an’ fin’ one. When ya get outta ‘ere. Tha’d be fun, righ’? Sum’in’ new.”
-
“An’ you.”
-
Rio’s voice almost made him jump, not expecting it. He didn’t though, his body apparently too tired to manage it. So, instead, he blinked, taking in the words. And then he barked out a laugh without thinking, without a single drop of real amusement in it. He wasn’t getting out. How could he? He’d barely gotten out the last time on his own. And he knew better than to think anyone would be coming for him. If anyone came, they’d have come because they were looking for Rose. Shit, they’d probably leave without even a glance at him if Bri was offered up.
-
Tucana hadn’t figured that out yet though. Apparently. Or maybe they were just saying it to make themself feel better right here and now. What did he know? Nothing. Not a damn thing. Either way. He forced himself to nod. To play along with the lie. He wasn’t going to be the one to tell them that they were wrong if they hadn’t figured it out yet. He still didn’t look at them, not when the lie was bitter on his tongue. “Mmm, sure. An’ me.”
-
He heard a lock being undone, the sound echoing down the stairs like only the last one ever did. Which meant time was up. He let himself close his eyes again, taking a breath with aching lungs. It’d been a good little break. The door opened. The same pair of footsteps as always came down the stairs. He didn’t open his eyes to watch. It wouldn’t change anything. Really, it was too late for that. Years too late for that.
-
At least it wasn’t the streets. Between dying in some guy’s basement and dying on the streets… He’d rather the basement. Even if it was Andi’s basement.
-
Nothing was said when the footsteps reached the end of the stairs. He almost remembered thinking it was odd. Andi had always loved talking before, hadn’t ever been nearly as violent as he was this time around. As unforgiving. But maybe he’d just gotten worse over the years. Maybe it was just how he figured he’d be able to get him to finally just scream or cry out. To beg for mercy. For death. Or for whatever damn thing it was that he wanted him to beg for. He didn’t know. He didn’t care to know. He wouldn’t be doing any of it anyway. Not with Tucana down in the basement too. He wouldn’t do that to them. He couldn’t.
-
Something was said when the footsteps started walking towards him. And as much as he hated the silence, he hated hearing Sift’s voice more at the moment. As if the last… However long it’d been, hadn’t made it clear that nothing worked. That there was no way to stop what was coming. Because there wasn’t. There wasn’t a way out, there wasn’t a way to stop him, there wasn’t a way to do anything.
-
There wasn’t a way to get Rose to stop trying either though. If there was, then they wouldn’t be trying to convince Andi to stay away from him. He figured that was what they were doing, at least. It was what they’d been doing each time so far anyway. The noise of it hurt his ears enough that he couldn’t really make it out though, so he wasn’t sure. He didn’t think it really mattered. Andi almost always ignored them anyway.
-
A hand in his hair proved that much, at least, pulling and forcing his eyes open again. He blinked up, trying not to grimace too much at the pain he felt… Just about everywhere, really. He wasn’t sure how well he did. He didn’t really care too much either. He still pushed up a grin. Because even if he knew he wasn’t getting out, even if he didn’t feel like fighting— Tucana was down in the basement too, and he couldn’t do that to them.
-
So he grinned, and watched as Andi scowled at it like he always did. Watched as he opened his mouth to say something and— And he spat, watching as the hand let go of his hair and Andi recoiled. Which, okay, that worked. But it also usually made things worse. The look on Andi’s face was worth it though, even if Bri’s sudden worried silence made it harder to grin. At least they knew as well as he did that it wasn’t a good idea.
-
“You fucking bitch—” Andi half coughed, half gagged, “That got in my mouth, you piece of—”
-
He forced his grin higher as he interrupted him, twisting one of his wrists in the handcuffs to raise his middle finger at him, “Oh yeah? Good— Tha’ was wha’ I wer aimin’ fer.”
-
The resulting punch to the face was, honestly, expected. Even the sound of his nose cracking with it he could’ve guessed would happen. He’d gotten his nose broken plenty of times before then too, so even the pain was about what he would’ve expected from it. Even the fact that it made him start coughing was something he could’ve guessed, it always had in the past, his shitty lungs were always taking every chance they had to make him cough.
-
The coughing stole his focus away from the sound of someone’s voice. He couldn’t tell if it was Tucana or Andi or both. He wasn’t sure it even mattered. Not when he could still feel the cuffs being taken off of his wrists. His lungs ached, but whether that was because of the coughing or because of what the cuffs coming off meant for him— He wasn’t sure. He managed to stop coughing just as the first one opened anyway, moving, pulling himself away off impulse as he tried to catch his breath.
-
Instead of being able to do that though, he met a knee to his chest. Or a kick. He couldn’t really tell. Not when he’d still been trying to breathe again. Not with how quickly it managed to double him over as he started to cough again, worse than the last fit he’d just had. His fingers scraped the ground and he couldn’t make anything out. He barely even felt the hand grabbing his hair as he coughed. He almost felt them move, almost like they were twitching, painful in the way that his muscles were whenever they did the same thing. It made him cough more, and he felt more than heard the way he was wheezing.
-
When he did manage to see anything, it was while he was being pulled by the hair across the floor, still wheezing through each movement of his lungs, still coughing every few wheezing breaths. What he got to see was the blood dripping onto the ground from his broken nose.
-
The first thing he got to hear past his own coughing was the sound of rushing water. Which, in his opinion, was worse than the blood rushing from his nose. It made his lungs ache, made breathing harder than it already was. Made his hands reach up towards the one in his hair and pull at it, like he actually had a chance at getting away if he tried hard enough. He didn’t. He knew he didn’t. It didn’t stop his hands from trying as his breathing messed itself up again and his heart raced in his chest.
-
It did as much as he knew it’d do. Less, even. All it did was let Andi pull him up, one hand holding his hair and the other holding his sore wrists. He stumbled, pulled staggering up to just enough of a stand that it was easy for Andi to shove his head down and under the ice cold water.
-
He didn’t last long before his mouth was opening, trying to breathe air that wasn’t there. He never did. Either way, it hurt just as much as it always did when water tore its way down his throat and into his lungs. Each attempt to get air in instead of water burned too, just like it always did. Like it always would. And just like always, the hand that had shoved his head underneath the water kept him there too.
-
He was pulled out before his vision started to darken too much though, which wasn’t what usually happened. He didn’t try to figure out why he’d been pulled out early though. Really, he barely even noticed, too busy coughing up the water in his lungs and trying to breathe. His fingers scraped, trying to hold the ground as if it’d help him breathe. As if it’d keep him from having his head shoved back down under the water.
-
He thought that maybe he heard Tucana speaking. He wasn’t sure. Maybe it was Andi. Maybe it was both of them. He didn’t know. He couldn’t tell. Maybe that was why he’d been pulled out early though. Maybe Andi had gotten distracted by Tucana.
-
He wheezed through a cough, and tried to breathe. Instead, he only coughed more. His vision was blacking on him. Which didn’t seem fair given that he was out of the water already. He could still barely breathe at all though, so maybe it made sense. He wasn’t sure. How was he supposed to know?
-
His back hit the ground a few seconds later, and a moment after that he realized he’d been kicked again. Forced to lose all the progress he’d made on being able to breathe again. Which wasn't all that much, but it hurt. Each cough sounded like he was wheezing through it, like he didn’t even have enough air to be coughing. It choked him for a second even, stopping his breathing altogether as he tried to cough with air he just didn’t have. He managed a breath then, and immediately began coughing again.
-
Weight on him didn’t help either, what felt like a hand on his hip digging into the letters that kept reopening only made it harder to breathe. Harder to catch his breath. There weren’t actually any hands around his throat but it really did feel like he was being strangled. And he knew there weren’t any hands around his neck because he could feel one on his hip and the other pushing at his legs.
-
And then they weren’t.
-
The weight shifted, moving off of him, and he could almost breathe. Nothing happened for a moment. Long enough that he was able to get enough of his breathing back under control to see the way Andi’s face was twisting up in a look he’d never actually seen on his face before. Long enough that he could hear the absolute silence of the basement. Tucana wasn’t even trying to convince Andi to get off of him. As if they knew that this pause wasn’t normal. Wasn’t something that had ever happened before.
-
And then Andi’s face twisted into something a little more recognizable. Something a little easier to read. A snarling sort of anger. The weight went with Andi, as in— Almost all the way off of him. Which didn’t make sense, and he stared, his breathing just about the only thing making any sound.
-
The right side of his head was grabbed though, and it seemed like whatever had been happening stopped. “Hey, Garvin…” The hand shifted to hold him by the right side of his hair. It pulled, just for a moment. He grimaced. Andi practically growled as he continued. “I think it’s about damn time we match. Don’t you?”
-
He didn’t have time to figure out what that meant before the left side of his head hit the side of the tub. He was pulled back, still reeling, his sight spinning. And it was still spinning when the left side of his face hit the ground, pulled back and slammed back down quicker than he could stifle the groan in the back of his throat. The next time it hit the ground, his vision blacked for a moment. Long enough that it came back only as the left side of his head hit the floor again.
-
He lost his sight again, unable to keep up with what was happening, and if Tucana was saying anything… He couldn’t hear them. If Andi was saying anything, he couldn’t hear him.
-
Maybe this was it. The thought hit him as he felt his head meet the ground again, slick and sticky with what he could only guess was blood. It didn’t make him pause nearly as much as he would’ve expected it to. He’d known that he would die the second he woke up in Andi’s basement for the first time in years.
-
It didn’t seem fair though. Not when he hadn’t screamed or cried or begged. And he hadn’t. He hadn’t done any of that. He still wasn’t doing any of that. But maybe Andi had gotten tired of waiting. He didn’t know.
-
He was cold. His head hit the ground again. His hair was let go. His head stayed down where it was. At least up until a kick sent him back, onto his left side. He didn’t stay on his side for long, the way he was leaning forcing him onto his front. The left side of his face stayed pressed against the floor.
-
He tried to take a breath and ended up half coughing, half huffing out some blood. Even with as little as he could see at the moment, he could see that much. He could see the blood slowly pouring from his nose, slowly streaming out his mouth. And he felt cold. Out of sorts.
-
He thought that, maybe, he heard Andi say something. Or maybe it was Tucana. He couldn’t tell. The sound of a door opening and closing seconds later made him guess it’d been Andi. Especially as a different voice started saying something after that. He couldn’t make anything out though and it took him a moment to realize that he wasn’t handcuffed. That he wasn’t being held down at all.
-
So, even with as cold as he felt, as much as he wanted to simply close his eyes and sleep, he tried to push himself up. Tried to get his fingers to grip the floor beneath him and push. He barely felt them scrape against the ground. He coughed, watched the blood that came with it, and pushed. He thought that maybe he almost managed it too, felt as his arms started shifting up, as his chest started following, and…
-
And then felt as his arms gave out. Felt as his chest and arms hit the ground again. Felt as his fingers opened and bled on the floor. Felt as his head hadn’t moved at all, still exactly where it’d been when he started trying to get up. It made something bubble up in his chest. He almost hoped it was tears. Instead, he watched more blood leak out of his mouth.
-
He was dying. It hit suddenly. He was dying. There wasn’t any question about it. No room to shrug and debate it. He was dying. He felt himself blink. There still weren’t any tears. He didn’t think he had enough… Anything. For tears.
-
He missed the stars. He missed looking at them. He missed late nights alone in alleyways, repeating what he’d been told about them. He missed seeing which ones he could pick out.
-
He missed the old 12-string banjo. He missed being able to play it. He missed seeing it. He missed the engraving on the back of its neck that made it his. That had made it his and Navis’.
-
He missed his trench coat.
-
Fuck, he missed that. He missed his trench coat. The comfortable weight of it, the comfortable material it was made of. He missed the burn on its right corner. He missed all the tears and stains and frays on it. He missed the patch on the back of it. The tombstone he’d managed to make and put on the back of it. He missed it. He was supposed to be wearing it. He wasn’t supposed to die without it on.
-
But he was. He was dying and he wasn’t wearing it. He was dying and leaving Tucana in the basement alone. They wouldn’t survive either. They’d end up dying too. Not long enough for someone to get there. Not if all their yelling and screaming at Andi so far was anything to go off of.
-
He was so, so fucking worthless. If it didn’t mean Tucana would be stuck dealing with Andi. If he’d at least been wearing his trench coat. He could’ve been fine dying. He would’ve been glad even. But he was going to die without anything to him. He was going to die before Tucana got out, before he could at least make sure they got out. It was almost funny. Actually. It was downright hilarious. If he wasn’t busy dying, he would’ve laughed. As it were though— He was cold. He was tired. And it was only getting harder and harder to breathe.
Winter 
Day Weather: 
Blizzard
