Work Text:
BdoubleO100 tried to swim in lava
He tries to swallow the bile and guilt running up his throat the moment he sees the death message. He still expresses disbelief and shock around Skizz, but not the guilt. Skizz can’t see the guilt of him failing another ally, not when he’s striking up an alliance with him in the first place.
Another life lost, another one in red. Another ally he failed to protect, another person he’s one step closer to losing. He refuses to look at the red name hovering on top of the person beside him, refuses to pull up the tab list to check who else is one death away from an unknown and irreversible demise. He can’t, he can’t. Not after Joel, not after Jimmy, not after Etho. Not after…
Not after Tango. He doesn’t want to think about losing Tango.
He’s jolted out of his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder, nearly jumping high into the air. He turns around to see Skizz looking at him with a grave and worried expression on his face. He sees the red veins peeking out from his neck and the red ring around his blue eyes and flinches. “You alright there, buddy? You’re looking quite distraught at Bdubs’s death.”
Impulse takes a deep breath and shakes his head, quickly shoving his communicator into his pocket. Out of sight, out of mind. Hopefully the guilt swimming around in his head and his stomach will dissipate soon. He tries to give a reassuring smile to his best friend, now shaky at most. “I mean, he’s my ally you know? Of course I’d get upset at his death.” Ally, not friend. He doesn’t have any real friends now, only fleeting allyships that he’s eventually going to be forced to ruin for the sake of more allies. Skizz is just another friend-turned-ally, someone he’s hoping and praying to keep alive. “It just goes to show that we need to get you all geared up if we want to keep you alive.”
Skizz shakes his head with a chuckle, clapping Impulse on the back. He hopes he doesn’t notice the way he flinches from the impact; Skizz has always had strong arms. “That’s why we’re here right? You’re gonna help me go from chump to champ!” Impulse nods with a more genuine smile, trying to drown himself in the positivity that’s just overflowing from his words. He helps him haggle with the villagers more, trading emeralds and books for enchanted books, working hard on the anvil to infuse the magic from those enchants into armor. He eventually loosens up the more he works with him, harvesting sticks and wood from trees for a trade. His friend makes many of his iconic jokes and jabs, all in an effort to make light of the horrible situation they’re in.
It helps him, somewhat. It’s much easier to forget the death looming on his conscience when he’s with him, easier to focus on preventing another death instead of the one he already caused. By the time Skizz leaves he’s decked out in good armor, feather-falling boots, and better weapons than the ones he had before. He leaves with a hug and a reminder of his promise to keep him for last. Impulse tries to ignore how Skizz puts Ren and Martyn over him. Of course he would, they were his first allies; his allegiance is pledged to them. He can take being the third priority, it’s better than having nothing.
He watches him leave his secret trading hall, walking with a pep in his step. He turns back towards his villagers, trying to see if he can grab more emeralds from them before the day ends. He’s so enraptured in his work that he belatedly registers the sound of his iron door opening and footsteps cracking against the stone. What he does register is a snarky voice saying, “So, Skizz huh?”
His blood freezes as he whizzes around, seeing Tango leaning against the iron door. He looks at his face, taking in the pinched eyebrows and thin line of a mouth. He avoids looking into his narrow eyes only to see the yellow ring around his red irises. A reminder of his biggest regret so far in this game, a reminder Tango probably loathes as much as he does. His mouth goes dry. “Tango, I didn’t expect to see you.”
“Why?” he asks, voice cold and unyielding. “You think I’d avoid you after knowing how you betrayed me back at the Crastle?” He smirks, probably noticing how he flinches from the truthful accusation hurled his way. “Hit a nerve? You probably should have thought of that before hitting me with an arrow.”
“I didn’t mean to,” he weakly responds, leaning his hands back against the lectern of the librarian behind him to steady himself. “Believe me, I didn’t mean to shoot you that time. I just wanted to protect you.”
“Sure you did,” Tango drawls, raising an eyebrow. “Just like you want to protect Skizz by giving him all that free armor just now. He was pretty happy about it you know, thought it was so kind of his ‘buddy’ to give him that.” His eyes remained trained on him, anger and contempt dancing in them. “Do you give gifts to everyone you want to betray? Was I not special even for that? Is that armor just to soften him up for when you inevitably and literally stab him in the back?”
“I won’t do that to him.” Impulse knows there’s no getting through to Tango at this point, one fist clenched over the handle of his sword and his body poised to attack. He resists the urge to bring his own weapon out, easier to do when he remembers this is Tango he’s talking to, the person he loves. He’s just not sure now if Tango loves him back. “I didn’t want to do that to you.”
“But you did,” he snarls. “You said you’d keep me safe, gave me armor to boot, but who was the one who shot me?” He takes one step closer and Impulse is frozen in place. “Who was the one who stood there and watched as they pushed me into the fire?” Another step, another scalding statement of his guilt. “Who was the one who agreed to the firing squad, who told me to get rid of all my armor including the boots they gave to me?” He doesn’t stop until he’s as close to Impulse as possible, his angry eyes boring right into his. “You promised me, Impulse. You promised we’ll get out of this together. You told me you wanted me to stay safe!” His voice sounds anguished, the impact of the betrayal finally descending upon them both. “Tell me, Impulse, who put me in danger in the first place? Who condemned me to die? Huh? Tell me!”
Impulse stares right up at him, at his yellow-ringed eyes, staring at the yellow-tinged name hovering above him. He can see the loathing written all over his face and it makes it harder for him to breathe, to think. He doesn’t stop himself from letting the answer to the question slip from his lips. “You did.”
Tango’s eyes widen in shock and he takes a step back, hurt momentarily replacing the hate in his eyes. “Wha—” he shakes his head before looking up with more anger, baring his sharp teeth to him. “Really, you’re trying to blame me now when I was the one you killed?”
“You broke the rules,” Impulse points out. “You wore the helmet, you interacted with the wrong people. They were going to hurt you anyway.”
“So what, you suddenly decided you had to join in? Help your ‘secret girlfriends’ take my life away from me?”
“They would have taken my life too otherwise!” Impulse suddenly shouts, feeling way too caged-in for his liking. He can’t take any more of Tango’s loathing and accusations even if he feels, deep down, that he’s right. “You saw how easy they turned on Etho for not reporting your ‘crimes’.” He made sure to put an emphasis on his last word, trying to convey how much he doesn’t believe in them. “If I didn’t play along they would have had my head alongside yours and it would be a lose-lose for both of us.”
He shakily reaches a hand up to run through his hair, tugging at the brown strands as a way to excuse the tears that are prickling in the corner of his eyes. “I’m right here, trying my best to keep the both of us alive while everything’s going down around us!” He’s shouting now, risking the chance of someone hearing him and listening in, but he feels like if he stops now he’ll never find the courage to speak to Tango again. “I can’t protect you if I’m also dead, but I didn’t want you to die! Bdubs did, Cleo did. Etho did, which was why he bumped into me when I was trying to aim my shot away from you! Did you know that? I didn’t want that arrow to hit you, but he did!”
His breathing is ragged now, trying to stop the hiccups from leaving his throat even if it means his body shakes. Tango steps closer to him and he lets him even as he refuses to look right at him. “I’m losing everybody else around me just so I can get us home, just so we can see Zed again, but now I’m regretting even still being on green because now I’m sure I’ve lost you too! I’d rather lose my life than lose you.”
His gaze flickers to the hand holding Tango’s sword. He reaches out and grabs him by the wrist, forcing him to draw his sword and point it at his throat. His gaze meets Tango’s again, and behind the coldness he can see the confusion. “Take my life, right here, right now if it’ll give you satisfaction. Please, just do it already. Take your frustration out on me, I’m alright with it.” He tries to keep his voice steady, keep his head high while the tip of the sword rests against his skin.
There’s silence between them for a moment, and Impulse refuses to breathe the whole time. He sees Tango flex his hand, grip tightening and loosening intermittently over the handle of the blade. He waits for the moment he pushes the sword even the slightest bit deeper, to draw blood and take his life just like he did with him. Maybe it’ll put his guilt to rest, even if deep down he knows that won’t be possible with a single sacrifice. But if it makes Tango happier, or even satisfies him for just a little while, then he’ll be more than alright to offer that.
But Tango shakes his head and he forces his hand out of Impulse’s grip so he can drop it. “No, I won’t do it.” He steps away from him, putting his sword aside. Impulse looks up, wondering what influenced his choice, but all he sees is the same cold scorn written all over his face. “When you die, I want you to die suddenly and not on your terms,” he hisses. None of them miss the way he used the word ‘when’. “I want you to feel the same indignation, the same fury I felt at dying an unjust death. I don’t want to see you die by my hand, I want you to feel the same betrayal I did when you die.”
He leaves without any more words or fanfare, the clanging of the iron door never having been as loud as in that moment. Impulse reaches a hand up to ghost his fingers over where the tip of the iron sword had been, his breathing still shallow. He almost collapses to his knees, just managing to support himself on the lectern as the villagers around him look confused. This is bad, really, really bad.
Tango is angry and he’s in yellow. An angry Tango is an unfocused Tango, and with only two deaths away from a permanent demise, he can’t be unfocused. He’d never allow himself to return to Hermitcraft, to Zedaph, alone. He can’t go back without Tango, he won’t allow that Tango be left behind in this world. He’s already at risk of losing Grian, and Etho, and Cleo, and Bdubs, and Skizz, and Ren, and everyone else around him; he can’t lose Tango too. He needs to find a way to calm him down enough to think more rationally, to get him to be less rash and more ready to protect himself. It doesn’t matter if he distrusts him anymore; he’ll be able to get over it eventually, he’s sure of it. He just needs to get Tango back to Zedaph in one piece. That’s it.
He grabs his pickaxe, checking its durability. He’ll do what he does best in the hopes that he’ll gather enough to satisfy him again, or to at least help him get protected. He needs to go grinding for redstone, for quartz, for iron. He needs to make sure Tango stays alive.
He collects chests on chests of materials, drops them off by where he thinks Tango’s base is. Each time he drops a new chest he sees the previous one has been untouched. Only the first one was opened; the succeeding chests remained shut. He tries to swallow down the bile rising in his throat when he sees it, tries to control how his stomach lurches. Has Tango not been to his base recently? He’s been avoiding any direct contact with him, hoping that would be enough to calm him down, but he still can’t help but worry over him. And sure, he’s doing the same for Etho, who needs more wool for his castle and more enchants on his sword, and he’s doing the same for Bdubs and Cleo who are being hunted by half of the Red-Lifers on the server and who need better armor and arrows and weapons for defense. That’s not to mention him needing to make sure Skizz, Ren, and Martyn are properly equipped for the war they’ve got ongoing with Scar and Grian, Skizz keeping true to what he said and convincing Ren to make him their official supplier. And he’s trying his hardest to stay on good terms with Scar despite his other alliances, trying to make sure BigB doesn’t get involved and complicate things even more…
He’s tired. He belatedly realizes that the same time he comes to the realization that it’s nighttime when he heads back to the village. His shoulders ache from mining for more iron, fingers covered in cuts from shearing mishaps, and his left arm covered in burns from where he bumped into lava in the Nether. He just wants to rest. When’s the last time he slept? He can somewhat hear the distant screeching of the phantoms circling above him while he all but limps past the Crastle. He stops for a moment to catch his breath, eyes wandering over to the stone execution wall, the fire still burning as brightly as it did since he killed Tango.
He grits his teeth when he remembers what happened that day, how he tried to unload his bow but was stopped by Etho bumping into him, letting the arrow fly into the air until it hit Tango square in the forehead. He never had that good of an aim and yet there he was, sending that killing blow. How could he have let Bdubs and Cleo persuade him? Alliance or not he knows he should have protested, should have stood up for his partner.
But he didn’t. At the time, all he could think about was how they could turn on him at any moment, how they could possibly try to call for his blood to be spilt next. He thought that maybe, just maybe, if he was there he could find a way to protect him, to keep him safe.
He didn’t think, couldn’t think. His mind is failing him from exhaustion, and he tries his best to tear his eyes away from the stone wall and fire, tries to keep walking. He doesn’t hear the phantom screeching getting closer until he feels the scaly creature bump into his side, sending him tumbling—
Right into the suction of the moat’s bubble columns, pulling him down into the depths.
His eyes widen as he starts thrashing about, trying his best to hold his air in. The moat itself isn’t deep, nor is it complete, but the magma blocks pull him down, down, burning his skin and making it harder to escape. He feels himself losing air, feels the cold of the water start creeping under his skin and into his lungs.
He screams, unable to keep it in any longer. He screams and tries to cry out for help even if it sends the water rushing down his throat and quickening the process even more. He can’t die now, he can’t. Not when he’s still got so much to do, so many people to protect, not when he almost died here before but was stopped by merciful hands.
There are no merciful hands now, no one to help him up or fish him from the depths. This isn’t good, this isn’t fine, this isn’t fair. The last realization strikes him, and his eyes would have widened if not for the water replacing all the fight in his body. Isn’t this what Tango wanted? Didn’t he want him to experience the unjust death he subjected him to? No one deserves to die, not when Tango made such a minuscule mistake, not when he did nothing but try to make friends with all the people he can.
Would this make Tango happy at last? After he dies such a pathetic death (drowning, what a pathetic and pitiful way to go) would that help Tango finally calm down? Would he still be mad? Would he finally accept his help?
He’s tired. It’s getting harder to keep his eyes open when he feels so cold, so he lets his eyes slip shut. Tired, so, so tired…
He next opens his eyes with a gasp, savoring the fact that it’s air entering them this time and not water. His hands immediately wrap around his throat, trying to stop it from constricting again as he calms himself. He lets himself fall to his knees and weep. He’s always been afraid of dying, even in a world where death didn’t have as big of an impact due to the respawn mechanics that usually protect the worlds he stays in.
Now though? Now the stakes are higher, now any death here can be his last if he isn’t careful. He doesn’t want to die permanently, doesn’t want his code to dissipate back into the world, his person lost to anyone except for those who remember him. He wants to remember, not be remembered. He wants—
His communicator keeps vibrating so he shakily lifts it up, trying to swipe at the tears falling pooling from his now yellow-ringed eyes.
impulseSV drowned
<Skizzleman> NOOOOOO MY BUDDEH!!!
<bigbst4tz> oh that’s not good.
<Ethoslab> what happened??
<BdoubleO100> uh oh
<BdoubleO100> his stuff is here by the moat…
<Grian> drowning, that’s a new one
<InTheLittleWood> oh noooo
<SmallishBeans> rip
The messages whizz by, each player sending messages of disbelief or condolences. All players, that is, except for Tango, who keeps his silence. Impulse sighs as disappointment climbs up his throat. Is he still upset? Is he still not happy with his death? Or did something else happen to him and so he can’t reply? He needs to seek him out, he needs to find him. Maybe he can try to talk to him again now that they’re on equal footing, maybe this time Tango will believe him when he says he just wants to protect him.
Where is he exactly? He lifts his head up to look at his surroundings. He can see the swamp nearby. This must have been the last place he slept in before he started summoning phantoms from his lack of rest. He tries to get up, still feeling shaky from his encounter with death. He squints as he tries to look through the dark. He needs to find out where to go next, what would be the safest path for him to get to the wool castle? Maybe he can find shelter there, maybe Etho will come with him to retrieve his stuff.
He finally manages to stand upright on his own two feet and he moves to take one more look around his surroundings. But just as he looks up, he sees purple particles float right in his vision, hears the vwoop of an entity teleporting right near him. He gasps when his eyes meet that of an enderman’s. He sees the monster start shaking, jaw unhinging impossibly wide as it drops the grass block it was holding. He tries to meet its gaze, tries to make sure he doesn’t agitate it even more. He’s near the swamp; he could probably reach the water in time to evade the enderman if he wanted to. Surely he wants to. Right?
But his mind, tired as it is from the guilt and hurt and the weight on his shoulders from him foolishly trying to maintain his alliance, tells him he doesn’t want to. If he dies, he’ll be on his red life, but could that be for the better? People fear Red-Lifers, would rather not cross them. It’s why he tries so hard to pander to Scar, to make himself look appealing to Ren, why he avoids Jimmy and Joel as best as he can. If he’s red, he won’t have to worry too much about dying unless he gets caught up in the war brewing over the horizon.
And maybe, a darker part of his mind whispers to him, this might be what gets Tango to forgive him. Maybe he’ll put effort into allying with him, or at least agree to hear him out on an agreement to protect him. Surely the protection of a Red-Lifer is more valuable than the protection of a Green-Lifer, surely this is enough.
He takes a deep breath. He’s a fool, he knows he is. He’s a fool with horrible luck. But his mind refuses to cooperate with him, wants to live up to his name and be impulsive. So he gives in, letting his eyes slip shut and tilting his head down until he can only see the grass. He hears the enderman’s screech get louder, hears it teleport right in front of him and feels its spindly arms grab the side of his neck.
Snap.
impulseSV was slain by Enderman
<Grian> WHAT???
<ZombieCleo> holy crap…
<SolidarityGaming> that was quick!!
<Skizzleman> impulse?? you ok man?
<Smajor1995> didn’t he just drown a few minutes ago?
<rendog> is everything alright, my dude?
Tango scoffs as he reads the messages on his communicator, trying to ignore the horrible feeling in his gut. “Stupid Impy, getting himself killed,” he mutters, the words bitter in his mouth. “Of course he gets himself killed twice in rapid succession. Amateur.”
He’s walking through the woods, hoping to kill a few creepers for gunpowder. If he’s going to protect himself, then he’s going to need TNT, and there’s no way he’ll use the stack that he knows Impulse left behind for him. He’s just too stubborn for that, he refuses to stoop down to accepting his help again.
Just his luck, he encounters the newly-respawned player, kneeling down as he tries to regain his bearings. He notices the red name, the red ring around his weary eyes. It strikes him how he never saw them tinged with yellow; no one did. He barely spent half an hour as a yellow before dying again.
"You and Skizz really are alike," he comments. Impulse's head snaps up and Tango has to stop himself from wincing. He looks frazzled, as he should considering he died twice in less than an hour, and he zeroes in on the bags under his eyes. He must not have noticed his approach, just like the last time they met up, as he seems shocked to see him. "Both of you dying to endermen." He looks to the side, where the swamp was a few chunks away. "And you didn't think to jump into the water too? Really? I thought you guys were good at surviving from Naked and Scared, but I guess not."
"I did think about it," Impulse confesses, shocking him enough to furrow his eyebrows. "I just… didn't want to."
He rolls his eyes even if his heart clenches at how defeated he sounded. "So what? The guilt got to you?"
He shakes his head. "I just want to talk, please. And I want to make sure you're still alright." He stands up, breathing deeply as he tries to approach him. He doesn't stop him, wondering how far he can go when he looks like he just wants to collapse. He's mildly impressed when he gets really close to him, although keeping some space between them. "I finally died like you wanted to. Twice, actually."
He sucks in a breath. He didn't think he'd actually die the way he did twice. He still snarks out, "Good. How does it feel to die like that?"
"Are you doing alright?" he asks instead of answering the question. "I haven't seen you in a while and I wasn't sure if you were still alright. What have you been doing?"
He looks pathetic, sounds pathetic, and it hurts Tango more than he'd like to admit to himself to see him like that. As much as he wants to be stubborn, strives to make Impulse regret firing that shot and breaking his initial promise, it pains him to see him this desperate and still so… caring for him. "I've just been prepping some more traps for protection from Red-Lifers." He eyes the red name hovering above him. "Just like you are now. Still adamant on not hurting me?"
Predictably, he nods. "I won't hurt anyone if I can help it, but especially not you." His hand twitches at his side before he reaches up and presses his hand against his cheek. He lets him, actually closing his eyes and trying his hardest not to lean into his touch. He's missed this, missed it so so much. He misses being able to talk to Impulse his friend, his lover. He misses hugging him, kissing him, holding his hand. He wants to hate him still, wants to push his feelings away for the sake of survival, but it's so hard to do. He has to face the truth eventually; he avoided him so he wouldn't have to be reminded of all the affection they used to share, and didn't use any of the gifts left behind on his doorstep to avoid thinking about him even more.
"You hurt me," he whispers, not wanting to open his eyes and see more of Impulse's regret in the creases of his eyebrows. It's obvious to everyone how remorseful he feels about what he's done. He doesn't want to see it again. "How am I supposed to trust you again when you threw me to the Crastle folks like that? You can't buy my forgiveness."
"I know I can't," he murmurs back, and he can feel him gather enough courage to get closer as he feels his breath suddenly ghosting over his face. From here, Tango can practically smell the scent of stone and polished diamonds on him, can feel the heat coming from his body. It wouldn't take much effort to just lean forward and let their lips touch for the briefest of moments again. "I'm sorry, you know I am. And I just want to do anything to—"
He pauses as he suddenly pulls away, and in the silence he can hear the telltale sound of a hiss echoing behind him. He barely has time to open his eyes when he suddenly gets turned around and thrown to the ground, narrowly avoiding hitting his head against a tree. He hears the boom of a creeper going off just moments later, holding his hands up above his head to shield him from the blast. He brings them down, ears ringing, to try and assess the damage nearby.
Instead, he sees Impulse lying motionlessly in the middle of the crater, quiet.
His heart starts thumping in his chest as he stares at the body. "I— Impulse?" he whispers. He starts crawling closer towards the crater, his stomach falling and curling in on itself when he doesn't get any response. "Impy? Are you… are you alright?"
He still stays silent, eyes firmly shut and his face pinched together in pain. There's a big burn on the side of his face, a nasty thing that's still hot and red. "Impulse, come on man, this isn't funny."
Still no response, still no movement or answer. In his pocket, he can feel his communicator buzzing wildly. He doesn't want to check it, he can't bring himself to. He doesn't want to confirm just yet what he, deep down, knows is true.
<Skizzleman> NOOOOOOOO IMPULSE
He tries to haul his body out of the crater, but he's always been taller than him. He ends up cradling his head in his lap instead. "Impulse? Come on man, you've got to wake up."
<BdoubleO100> oh no nononono
He tries to touch the side of his face that isn't injured. Despite the burn scar, his skin is gradually getting colder. "You were going to say something to me. What was it?"
<SolidarityGaming> OH MY WORD
A hysterical chuckle bubbles in the back of his throat. "You can't be serious. You didn't just— I have armor Impulse, d-did you forget that? I have armor and you don't."
<bigbst4tz> that can't have just happened!
His face is wet. His tears are falling onto his face. "Please wake up," he shakily whimpers. "You have to wake up."
<GoodTimeWithScar> that was his third life...
"You— you can't have just broken another promise, right?" His voice is cracking, chest tightening with each new word. "Don't you remember?"
<SmallishBeans> he's… he's not going to come back, is he?
"You promised to stay safe for me, right? You were going to find a way to get us all out of here, then we were going to go back to Hermitcraft. That's what you told me. I told you it was impossible to promise that, but you did anyway."
<Grian> according to the rules, that's how it goes
"We were going to go back to Zed, right? He… you can't leave me to tell him what happened to you. You can't ."
<rendog> who's going to tell zedaph? and where's tango?
"Why are you doing this to me? Why do you keep hurting me, damn it?! You think this is funny? You think I'll let you die on me the third time?"
<Ethoslab> i'm looking for him right now
"Is this because of what I said? You couldn't have taken that literally… I didn't want to actually see you die unjustly. I … this isn't fair. No, no, no, no, this can't be happening."
<InTheLittleWood> he can't be taking this well…
"I— damn you Impulse! Damn all of this! I've forgiven you a long time ago! I didn't want you to die! You can't be dead, please don't be dead."
<Smajor1995> someone's got to find him before he does anything bad
"Please don't be dead, I couldn't have watched you die. Don't leave me alone, please, please. You can't do this to me, you can't just leave. I'm sorry for avoiding you, for taunting you again and again. Please, just don't leave me."
<ZombieCleo> i'm with etho rn and we found him
"I love you! Is that what you wanted to hear?" The tears are coming quicker now, air now harder to breathe in. He shakes the body, still cold and unresponsive. "I love you! Damn it, Impulse I love you! You can't just leave me like this!" The body isn't disappearing for respawn, remaining on his lap. He leans down to kiss his lips, sobbing when they feel ice cold. "I love you, I love you, I love you," he chants into his mouth, as though that would substitute enough for the air lacking in his lungs.
He can hear footsteps behind him, can recognize the soft murmur of Cleo's voice, but he doesn't stop. "Please come back, I need you to come back." Etho puts a hand on his shoulder, his gloves too rough on his skin right now. "Wake up, damn it, wake up."
"Tango," Etho quietly tells him, squeezing his shoulder. "You need to let him go."
He shakes his head, still holding onto him tighter. He's shaking with his barely held-in cries, tears streaming down his face. "No, no, no, no, no. I can't, I can't. He has to go back home with us, he has to."
The two who found him are silent for a while. "He's dead, Tango," Cleo tries to say it as gently as she can. "You can grieve him, but you have to accept it."
But he doesn't want to accept it. He doesn't want to accept that his partner's gone, that they never got a chance to fix things between them. Impulse never got to hear him apologize or accept his apologies in turn. He never got to kiss him again while his lips were still warm, or intertwined their fingers when they still weren't burnt off or stiff. He never got to say goodbye.
He never got to say goodbye.
impulseSV was blown up by Creeper