Chapter Text
***
Being left behind is a terrible, terrible thing. Chain hates it with every fiber of himself. The first time they went out without him, he cried in his room for an entire day. The next day, he woke up unable to open his eyes with how swollen they were.
Of course, now he can handle himself better. The gift from Lake helps tremendously. He likes to look through the pictures from the first volume, then just about cries again when another book comes home with them.
Late nights drag by now, even when he spends time with a Sibling. They’re all nice enough, but he misses the company of his pack. The Siblings are kind, and let him talk their ears off, so he can’t complain too much.
He picks up many new hobbies and chores around the Abbey, such as repainting the peeling furniture. It’s a tedious job, even if it needs to be done.
“Morning, Chain!” A Sister says. Her name is Astrid, Chain recalls. She’s been very kind to him, going as far as to bring him tea when he gets headaches. And best of all, she knows how to play guitar, so they’ll have makeshift practices together when they have any downtime.
“Good morning, Astrid.”
They chat for a few minutes, before Chain inevitably has to pick up where he left off on his chores.
“Well, I must be off now.” Chain is already thinking about the next thing that needs a fresh coat of paint on it. Then, when that’s drying, he’s going to reorganize the library books and sort through the old from new.
“It was nice catching up with you,” she smiles.
He nods, and escapes to the hallway of the Ghoul Wing of the Abbey. Most of it is made of stone, besides the doors and a handful of rooms. Everything is clean, as the walls and floors are all cold, unforgiving granite.
The bucket of paint is in the closet, just where he left it.
Some hours later, after being thoroughly covered up to his forearms in paint, he takes a break. It is around lunch time, not that he keeps track of that sort of thing. He’d rather eat when he is hungry, not when it is a certain hour of the day.
That being said, his stomach voices its displeasure at being denied food. Hunger drops by when it is most inconvenient, he has found. It’s especially hard when there is nobody else around to remind him to eat. Eating tends to...slip from his mind if he has a task to complete.
“There you are, Chain. You’ve got mail!” Astrid says cheerfully. In her hands is an envelope that is about ready to burst.
He takes it from her with a murmured thanks.
Inside, there are multiple lined pages filled with Alpha’s neat handwriting, recounting their first couple days of the tour. Papa had told them all that this would be the last tour, as of yet, for the current music. Chain was not pleased to learn his loves would be gone for almost a full month.
Along with the pages, there are dozens of photographs, some shot better than others. Every single one is signed and dated, with the handwriting of whoever took the photo. He can’t pick a favorite; they are all full of love.
Chain puts them back after he looks through them, not wanting to dirty them up from his stained fingers. Later, he will organize them into the new memory book Omega gave him. He loves the pictures, being able to see the joy they all hold from just existing together.
For now, he drops off the envelope into his room to keep them safe. Then, he washes up in the kitchen and makes himself lunch. With a large portion of the population gone, it’s easier for the Siblings who work in the kitchen to let there be free range with the food. Chain prefers it that way, so he can make whatever he pleases.
He takes his lunch into the library to begin that task. A new record he’s been meaning to listen to calls, so he starts playing that as well. Alternative rock is easy to have as background noise, and he enjoys the ever-present bass most bands have. In all, it boils down to the instruments that are used.
Chain snacks on the various fruits and cheeses on his plate as he works, humming along to his record. It’s quite good, if you ask him. Once it’s over, he’ll move it to the shelf with a fading label that says “FAVORITES” in Aero’s messy print.
Most of the records are of unknown origin, their artists lost to the sands of time. Chain loves them all the same, though.
By the time he needs to flip the record to the second side, dark is beginning to draw fingers over the cerulean skies. The clouds are painted in rainbow colors, perhaps the same sunset that Alpha or Lake could be seeing.
He doesn’t want the music to stop quite yet. It holds memories, helps create new ones to join the old. And his books call to him, asking to be put into their rightful place. Chain answers them, until the late hours pull at his limbs and slow his movements.
Chain takes a quick shower to rinse off the worst of the staining on his skin. Everything else can be dealt with in the morning; he’s about to keel over.
Thankfully, he feels relatively clean when he steps out and dries off. An ache settles in his ribs, reminding him of the empty beds around the Ghoul Wing. Nobody will be waiting to surprise him in his room, just cobwebs and cold air.
The loneliness spurs him to take a blanket from his bed and temporarily sleep in Alpha and Omega’s room. Their scent is the strongest among the sheets, with a sprinkling of Aero, Crust and Lake around the edges.
Sleep comes easier when he buries himself under the covers, imagining he’s not truly alone. Colorless dreams keep him company until he wakes up the next morning.
Birds sing their little hearts out. Chain is unreasonably mad at them for being happy, when he is by himself.
His sour mood continues for most of the day, where he runs out of tasks to distract himself with.
To counteract his headspace, he holes up in the practice room to play along to his favorite songs. He’d go back to his room, if it had better soundproofing, but alas.
Somehow, the thing he loves the most-that isn’t another ghoul-does next to nothing to help his downcast feeling. Boredom scrapes at his skull, ringing in his ears.
Even fucking around on Crust’s practice kit doesn’t chase away that bone-deep boredom he is consumed with.
He resorts to taking a walk outside and a visit to the lake. The cool water will do him some good. With nobody around, he chooses to simply strip off his clothes and jump in. The wooden slats of the dock echo as he walks on them.
Chain slips under the otherwise still water, waiting for a moment to let his eyes adjust, and for the membranes to cover them. Once he can see, he shoots off into the murky, darker parts of the lake. Down there, he lays in the aquatic grass, letting the current and freezing water envelop him.
Being in the water is soothing, like when a mother sings to her litter. That’s a nice thought...
He doesn’t want to dwell on that for too long, so he begins to swim again, searching for underwater flowers that may be growing along the silty bottom.
Fish dart around him, not disturbed by his presence in the slightest. He pays them no mind, only intent on finding a fistful of plant cuttings for Crust to propagate when he gets home.
The tension coiling in his shoulders melts away during his search, turning to water and being left behind in a trail of bubbles.
It must be hours later when he finally leaves the safety of the lake, turning up empty. He’s disappointed to not have a gift for Crust, but he is happy that the dark headspace he was in has gone away.
Not for the first time, and surely not the last, Chain wishes he could have stayed for longer. He loves Lake, he really does, but staying back at the Abbey while the others get to travel the world feels unfair.
Life is rarely fair, though, is it?
Chain writes these thoughts out into a journal he impulse-bought months ago, and hasn’t touched since. Some sketches are inside, showing that at some point, Lake had found and used it.
The pen breaks near the end, spraying ink all over his page and words he spent so long making legible and nice-looking. That’s his breaking point. He groans and pushes away his writing and storms out to get away.
He slips out of the Abbey again, this time heading for the forest where he can destroy, and nobody will be there to bother him.
Nobody is there to watch, either, while he shucks what little glamor he keeps on to absolutely annihilate a tree in front of him. It falls in a burst of sawdust and new leaves. Bark is stuck under his claws, digging into the fortified skin of his fingertips.
Chain tips his head up to the clouds and yells, “Fuck!”
Birds fly away at the disturbance, cawing their displeasure. Serves the bastards right.
His breathing comes ragged and sharp. Blood slips down his fingers from the sharp bark slicing his skin. The callouses have nothing on the relentless burrowing of needle-like slivers and wooden shards.
Little sparks of pain dance over his hands, lightning bright. He regrets this now, even for the release it brought. Clarity glares down at him in the form of hail.
He stays rooted to the spot under the elements. Freezing bits of ice raining into his hair and dripping down his back cool the red-hot anger he fights with.
Soon, it turns to freezing rain, which is the horrible and wet child of hail and rain. That is his cue to head back inside, even if he doesn’t want to just yet.
Chain dries off in his own room, then promptly burrows under his covers to hide away from the world. Sometimes, when it becomes too much, he does this to ensure nobody is caught in the crossfire of his emotions.
A lot of his time in the Abbey is spent whittling down the weeks, days, hours, until he can see his pack again.
He finds utterly meaningless tasks to waste his time. Most notably is scrubbing the floorboards until they shine. It’s dirty work, but it helps to distract him from the loneliness that consumes him.
The day they are due to come back, Chain is vibrating out of his skin with excitement. Nothing he does can help with the need to be near them, even if they’re not there in the flesh.
Afternoon rolls around. Chain can barely focus on the pages he’s reading, let alone process them. They bounce around his skull like a single grain of rice within a maraca. He tries to hang onto the words-he really does-but they won’t be comprehended.
Astrid talks with him for a moment, then gives up when he barely registers the words coming out of her mouth.
The ghouls’ arrival is punctuated by Alpha yelling, “Honey, we’re home!” Into Chain’s room. It scares the daylights out of him, making him jump halfway off his bed.
His grin is borderline painful, the way it stretches out his cheeks and squishes the rest of his face. “Satanas, I missed you so much.” Chain crushes Alpha in a hug, pressing kisses all over his neck and jaw. “I can’t do that again.”
“I know.” Alpha is serious for a short while. He presses on the tight knots that have been digging into Chain’s back for the past week.
The other ghouls receive a similar treatment, even Lake shyly asks for a kiss. Chain is more than happy to oblige. “Come swim with me later,” he offers.
Lake curses. “I haven’t swum in far too long.”
Chain smiles. “Then we shall swim. It’s perfect weather today.”
“Can we all sleep in Crust’s room tonight?” Aero asks.
It’s obvious Crust has not agreed to it yet, with the way his eyes widen like saucers. “I don’t know, can you?”
“The council says we will.”
Crust grins. “Alright, you heathens. I’ll get it ready for you all tonight.” He has the largest bed of them all, being an Earth ghoul, so they tend to have their cuddle piles in his bed. There, nobody gets pushed to the edge and has to hold onto the nearest ghoul in a death grip.
Inwardly, Chain rejoices. He needs to be close to them all, after having been separated for too long.
Alpha cocks a brow at Lake. “Don’t go out too far, love. Papa will have my head on a pike if I let his bassist get lost in the lake.”
“I’ll stay closer to shore.”
“Good, good.” Alpha kisses the top of Lake’s head. “And come back in time for dinner and movies. We’ve got a lot to catch up with Chain.”
“I can’t wait,” Chain says earnestly. He’s already thinking of all the shenanigans they could have gotten into with Papa leaving them to their own devices. Aero and Crust may be the responsible ones, but that doesn’t mean they are totally immune to going along with the ridiculous things the others get up to.
He changes in his room, throwing on a ratty pair of swim trunks that were originally Aero’s. As he pulls on his trunks, he thinks about what all he could have possibly missed at home. Based on the only string of shows he got to hang around for, it will be a lot.
Lake meanders in with an easy smile on his face. “You ready?”
“Sure am.” Chain pinches Lake’s hip, where the bone pokes through his skin. “I missed you all.”
“We missed you too.”
Chain wraps an arm around Lake’s shoulders, happy to be around someone he likes- loves , even.
“How was it? Being here at the Abbey, I mean.”
“Boring. So damn boring.” He doesn’t mention the times he slept in Lake’s room; when his face buried in Lake’s sheets, and he touched himself at the thought of bedding him when he returned from touring.
“Yeah, I can imagine.”
“At least I got a lot done around here. And I practiced some songs with Astrid. Have you met her before?”
“Yes! She’s very nice.” Lake seems to brighten at the mention of her.
Chain’s gut twists around. Does he not see me the way I see him?
“I think so too.” Now he wishes he did not bring her up. “Watch out for the trees. They get feisty this time of year.”
Lake looks at him, confusion apparent. “They what?”
“You know, they whip around and smack you?”
“What the Hell? That’s very odd.” Lake walks closer to Chain, just a fraction.
Chain snickers. “I am aware. When I first came up here, I didn’t know about the trees. I got slammed to the ground and didn’t come back for months. Aero thought I was crazy.”
“Damn,” is all Lake says.
“Agreed.”
The lake is serene, with ducks paddling across the surface. They are Chain’s favorite animal to see when he visits it. A close second would be the deer that sometimes drink from it, their antlers shining in the light.
Chain lets Lake go when they reach the dock. Already, he wants to disappear under the glassy surface and escape from life for a few hours. He jumps in, clearing his mind. Water helps, it being his element and all.
He releases what’s left of his lung capacity, sinking to the bottom. The pull he feels to it is unexplainable. He enjoys the calm that comes with it, so he doesn’t care much.
Lake joins him, his arrival denoted by a cascade of bubbles. Chain sinks further into the grass. Lake swims over to him, head cocked.
Chain pats the open space next to him, guilt eating at his stomach. Under the murky waters, Lake looks like an angel. His hair frames his face in thick ropes, still a beautiful silver, even in the darkness. Rippling waves of light play across Lake’s face. He’s beautiful.
Lake catches his gaze, smiling with his pointed teeth prominent. The gills in his throat flare and flutter with his breaths, like little fans. Chain reaches out to brush them with his fingertips, noting how Lake squirms under the touch.
The saving grace of being underwater is having the ability to speak taken away. There is no expectation of conversation.
He braids his hair, a nervous habit that formed shortly after his summoning.
Chain locks himself into his room, peeling off his trunks. Water drips down his legs and onto his rug. He dries off himself and flops into bed. It’s not time for dinner yet, so he can have an hour to himself before seeing Lake again.
In that time, he puts on a soft pair of pants and a faded tank top that used to say ‘Fleetwood Mac’, but now is just a mess of light gray blobs. He untangles his hair, which takes up a larger amount of time than he expected.
Aero knocks on his door, asking what caused him to leave so abruptly. He doesn’t want to explain, so he makes up a bullshit excuse that even sounds weak to him. Chain makes a note to explain his weird behavior as soon as he can.
By the time he emerges from his solitude, Crust is waiting for him. “Do you want to talk?”
His cheeks flame. “Yeah, probably.”
Crust stays quiet while Chain tells him about the worries he has. I’m afraid that he doesn’t like me in that way. I don’t know how I’d be around him if I were to be rejected. It would be so awkward, you know?
Crust listens to his ramblings, much to Chain’s delight. Getting it all out feels freeing. Like there isn’t a massive lump in his throat anymore.
“What if you talked to him? I am sure he would not mind the communication.”
Damn Crust for being sensible.
“I’ll do that later tonight.”
Crust smiles. “Good. Either way, he really likes you. It’s obvious in the way he sticks to you and talked all about you when we left.”
Chain nudges Crust with his hip. “He did not.”
“I can assure you he did.”
“Doubtful.”
They watch a shitty rom-com, requested by Aero. It’s my comfort show! They say. I never said it would be good.
Chain fidgets the entire time, thinking about what he has to say to Lake. Alpha scratches at his back, saying, “Are you okay?”
“I am.”
“Worried about—?”
“Yeah. That.” He needs to bite the bullet before he gets too nervous and backs out. No time like the present.
When the credits roll, he all but drags Lake into another room, unable to wait any longer.
“Lake.” Chain takes a deep breath, preparing to get it over with.
“Chain.”
“I think—no, I know— that I love you. It’s okay if you don’t want to say it back.”
Lake cups his cheek. “I really like you. I do, but I don’t feel that pull toward you. Any of you, really. I can love you, as much as I can, though it would be more...” Lake pauses. “More platonic—not that—want to sleep with you. Kind of like a deep affection and lust, almost. It’s like something is making me wait for someone that I haven’t met yet. Multiple someones, I think.”
Chain breaks a little at hearing that. “Oh. Then...how do you want to go about this?”
“I’m not sure. We can figure it out, yeah?”
“Yeah. Okay.”
Lake puts his hands in his pockets. “So...want to go back now?”
“I’m going to bed.”
“It’s not that late?”
Chain brushes past Lake, straight to his room. Omega follows him, chuffing quietly. Chain burrows under his blankets, curling up to hide from the outside world.
“Can I come in?”
Chain only hums.
The bed dips with the added weight of Omega. “Didn’t go well, I take it?”
Somehow, having it solidified like that only serves to make hot tears well up and drip down his face. “Not at all.”
Omega holds him close through the barrier of blankets. “I’m sorry. I know you really like him.”
Chain sniffles. “I do. I really do. How could I have not seen that coming? I thought I knew what he wanted.”
“We’re complex. Sometimes we don’t get what we want, no matter how much you want it.”
He coughs. “Why am I even sad? I have four others that I love. Is this my punishment; greed and lust?”
“No, darling. He doesn’t feel the same for you, and that’s okay.”
“I know.”
The next morning at breakfast, Chain sat farther away from Lake than usual. Instead, he stayed close to Alpha and Omega, as if they could shield him from Lake’s rejection.
Omega rests a hand on his thigh, a promise of sorts.
“Doing better?” Alpha asks him.
“Not really, but thanks for asking.” Chain stares into his bowl, wondering if the last of his food could hold the answers of the universe.
“Of course. You’re pack, so I’ll always check in on you.”
That warms Chain. Alpha’s easygoing manner reassures him in a way that words cannot describe.
“I appreciate it. A lot.”
Alpha grins. “I know.”
Chain manages to get over his despair of rejection quicker than he thought, much to everyone’s relief. He mopes around the Abbey for only a few days after, like a kicked puppy. He can be in the same room as Lake for more than a handful of minutes.
They even have a full meal without Chain excusing himself for one reason or another.
Alpha keeps him busy, until he deems him okay enough to be left to his own devices. Chain had taken a liking to sleeping with Alpha and Omega, to keep his loneliness at bay—being without someone he had bonded so much with and suddenly not having him hurt his psyche. He can’t shake off the squishy feeling of screwing up his friendship with Lake.
“Chain! You’re lost in Mind Land over there,” Aero teases. They were setting up the practice room again after cleaning it. Dust and spiderwebs built up in the corners after the prolonged absence of the ghouls.
“No, I’m not.” He was very much lost.
Aero pokes his side. “Don’t bullshit me. You’re thinking about Lake again.”
“Maybe a little.”
“He’s lovely, sure, but what’s got you all twisted up?”
“Having another Water ghoul around is like...having someone who knows you, and they know you like you know yourself. Maybe I liked him only because he is like me.”
“That is possible.”
Chain groans, resting his forehead on a hi-hat. “Am I wasting my time pining over him?”
“Are you? Is it a waste if you don’t think so?”
“Can I have real advice from you?”
Aero hums. “I guess so. I think that you shouldn’t keep thinking about someone that will likely never love you. I know that it hurts to think about it, but being sad will not get him to fall for you. My thought is to distance yourself from him and work on thinking of him as a friend again.”
“How though?”
“That, I’m not sure of. It will come to me eventually.”
“I know it will.”
Chain picks himself up and finishes the cleaning, singing softly to himself. He doesn’t want Aero to be right, even if he knows, deep down, that they are.
“So, what do you think of...”
During a full moon in October, Sister Imperator calls a meeting with all the Siblings and ghouls. “Papa is retiring as the frontman. He has not gotten the reach that we hoped for. We made this decision shortly after the last show you played.”
Aero cocks his head, confused as to what she means by Papa not ‘having the reach’.
“We have chosen his successor—Papa Emeritus the Second. He is promising and happens to be favored by Him, and he has been in the Ministry for many years already.”
That raises some titters from her audience. They all like him enough but adding a new Papa to the mix seemed useless. What’s the point of fixing something that isn’t broken yet?
“Hush, now,” she continues. “The Clergy believes that he will be an even better fit in spreading Satan’s word. Questions?” Her expression says, ‘that is a formality; I will not accept any.’
Aero looks around to the others, who are wearing similar confused faces.
“You are dismissed.”
Right away, Aero slinks out of the room, needing time to process what Sister Imperator told them. And why did she need to tell them; why not Papa breaking the news himself?
Alpha catches up to him. “Cloudling?”
“Yes, dear?”
“How are you doing, with this announcement?”
“It’s confusing. She did not need to gather us all there, only to tell us that Papa will be retiring.”
“I agree. She has a tendency for the dramatics, though.”
Aero sighs. “She sure does.”
Alpha touches Aero’s back. “You sat oddly through the entire meeting. Do you want me to get the knots out?”
“If you wouldn't mind.”
“I would never mind.”
They end up in the common area, where Aero lays down on one of the couches. Alpha sits on the backs of their thighs and picks at the bottom of their shirt. “Is it okay if I move this?”
“It is.” Aero’s face is pressed into the crook of their elbow, making their words come out muffled.
Alpha pushes up their shirt, exposing the hard muscle of their back. With a quick glance, he finds multiple knots around their spine.
“Damn, cloudling. How did this happen?”
They shrug as well as they can. “Got anxious, I suppose.”
“This is a lot more than one occurrence. Do you need to talk about anything?”
Aero shifts around. “I’m worried about Chain. He needs to get over Lake. Lake will never love him, no matter what he thinks.”
“Give him time. He’ll realize that on his own.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
Alpha digs his thumb into a knot beside Aero’s shoulder blade. “He will. The time will pass.”
“One would hope.” Aero gasps when Alpha loosens his muscles. They’d been bothering him for days, hindering his movement to a degree. “ Satanas , that’s nice.”
They can hear the smirk in Alpha’s voice when he speaks. “I’ve been told that before.”
“Oh, fuck you. Maybe I don’t want your help after all.”
“False.”
Aero snorts. “You’re denying me?”
“I am.” Alpha skates his fingers over the worse spots, lightly pressing on them. “I’ll come back to these ones; they’re pretty tight. I might need to get Omega to help me.”
Omega’s Quintessence is rarely used on anyone, unless they are hurting in a major way, such as Aero’s recurring back problems. He doles it out sparingly, lest he gets too tired and needs to rest for days on end.
“You don’t need to do that. I can take a bit of pain.”
“Just because you can doesn’t mean you have to. I’d hate to put you through unneeded discomfort.”
“If you are sure Omega won’t be taken out of commission for too long.”
“He won’t. He’d be using a small bit, just enough to loosen them, painlessly.” Alpha emphasizes his point. “And he’s always happy to pass out if it means you aren’t in pain.”
Aero scowls, even if Alpha can’t see it. “Fine, fine. I give in. He can use his ‘essence on me.”
“That’s better. I hate to see you hobbling around like Papa does.”
“Hey! I don’t do that.”
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you do hobble around.”
“Lies. So many lies.”
Alpha works out another knot from his spine. “Ask anyone and they’ll agree with me.”
By now, Aero is half asleep from the weight of Alpha on him, combined with the soothing way Alpha works his muscles.
“Mhmm, sure.”
After the announcement, the ghouls have a difficult time bonding with the new Papa, who they have begun to call ‘Secondo,’ for ease of distinction. He’s not bad by any means, he is just...strange. He has a penchant for women and alcohol, which they turn their noses up at. For them, music comes first, no matter what.
Secondo is equally bad at writing instrumentals, a quality that bothers Crust greatly. He doesn’t even make an effort to do so. Crust stays up late in his room, just to make up for the deficit.
One of these nights, Chain is sleeping as Crust tries out a new beat on his electric kit. He enjoys having it, as it’s much quieter than the real thing, so he can practice as much as he needs on nights such as this.
His headphones are securely over his ears, blocking out all outside noise. He jumps when someone slides them off his head. “Lucifer, you scared me!”
Aero giggles. “Sorry. Alpha and ‘meg are fucking, and I didn’t want to bother them.”
“Ah, I see. They keeping you up?”
Aero shoves his face into Crust’s hair. “Yeah. It’s bothersome when it’s past midnight.”
“I’ll talk to them in the morning, maybe suggest they get better soundproofing.”
“Please do. I can’t stand wearing earplugs almost every night.”
Chain groans from Crust’s bed.
“I think he agrees,” Aero says.
“Me too.”
“Come to bed now. I’m sure you need a break, angel.”
Crust sighs. “If you insist.”
“I do insist. I know how you are; you’ve probably been at it since the sun went down.”
His face warms. Aero is right. They’re rarely ever wrong about this type of thing.