Wolfy's Fanfics

This is a page of AvA fanfics written by TheWonderfulWolfy.

Dreary, downcast, depressing...

He couldn't help it.

He couldn't stop the memories.

He looked around. He was at the kitchen table. He briefly thought about eating, but that thought was quickly drowned out by others.

He couldn't help it.

It was the damn weather's fault.

Dark was always happiest during storms, and just rain in general. The sound was soothing (and it meant it would never get fully silent) and it wouldn't get too bright out. So he'd always wake up early, go downstairs, make himself breakfast, and just stare out the window for a little while until Chosen came down. Dark would (sort of) patiently wait as Chosen ate his breakfast, and every once in a while, Chosen would glance over and Dark's smile, a smile of pure joy for no good reason, would make up for the lack of sunlight.

Then usually after that, the two of them would go outside in the pouring rain, just to be out there with each other. Then, soaking wet, they'd go do any errands and come back drenched, laughing for no reason other than that they *could.* They'd attempt to dry themselves off a bit and Dark would grab a container of ice cream out of the freezer while Chosen turned the TV on. Dark would come out and the two of them would sit on the couch, just enjoying each other's presence and closeness, while watching a movie and eating ice cream. They often fell asleep like that.

The flashback ending, Chosen sighed. How many weeks had it been since he had found what was left of Dark in the field? He had lost track a while ago, but he knew it had to have been at least 50.

How was it that it had been so long, yet he still felt so bad? That just because he was alone in the house, the nights seemed to get so much colder?

Chosen tried to focus on the sound of the rain, but the sound was no longer comforting. Just repetitive. So many different raindrops, all making the same sound as they all met the same end and just ran down the side of the house or the window or the slanted roof. As if there was no point of them being unique in the first place.

What was going on? How could Chosen be hurting so much, but be almost completely numb at the same time? How long does it take to forget — or even just let go of — someone who promised, long ago (or maybe it wasn't all that long), that he'd never let you forget his name?

### Part Two

\* ~ \* ~ \*

Chosen hated the sound of the rain.

With everything inside of him, he hated it.

It was just a reminder of his pain.

There was the same problem with any other white noise.

White noise was Dark's comfort.

But now Dark was gone and it was Chosen who needed comfort.

But that comfort never came.

Instead it was just more pain.

Everything was was just more pain.

Chosen curled up into a little ball and cried into his knees.

Why?

Why did Dark have to die?

Why couldn't this all have been some terrible dream?

Chosen woke up the next day, his head throbbing. The everything was all blurry and his ears were ringing. The world around him was so disorienting, he could barely feel his way into the kitchen and grab the little orange bottle on the counter. He took one look at it before trying to open the bottle with his teeth, and when he was unsuccessful, he just dropped the bottle on the floor. It was fine.

Chosen grabbed a Hot Pocket from the freezer and heated it up for about 30 seconds before forcefully opening the microwave and taking his food out, not caring that it was still a bit icy.

He ate about half of it before sitting down on the couch and staring absentmindedly at the pouring rain, tears streaming down his face, trying so, so hard to just forget about things and be able to fucking move on.

He layed down on the couch and somehow fell asleep.

The next couple weeks went pretty much the same.

Ignore the pain.

Block out the memories.

Forget it.

Forget it.

FORGET.

Darkness fading into light.

Ugh. Another day.

Chosen got up and glanced at his calendar.

'It's been a year already...?,' he thought as he saw "Dark's FUCKING DEATH ANNIVERSARY" written in red letters on the current day. He took a deep breath and took the flowers he had on the nightstand, put on the black and white jacket Dark had got him, and went outside, making sure to slam the door behind him.

The walk to the graveyard was long and miserable. Everything was washing over Chosen faster than he could comprehend. He walked past all the graves, reading everyone's names and somehow feeling pain for every single one of them.

But the pain increased so, so much when he found the gray stone marked "The Dark Lord."

His breaths quick and shaky, Chosen collapsed on the wet grass in front of the grave, sobbing uncontrollably.

"I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry I let this happen to you," he barely managed to say. And maybe it's because he had been off his medication for a while, or maybe it was just his grief taking over, but somehow, some way, Chosen could've sworn he heard a little whisper say, "I forgive you."

## Rise to Power

### Part One

"I'D RATHER BE ALL ALONE THAN HAVE TO BE WITH YOU!"

The words echoed in Purple's mind.

They had said that to their father when they were 9 years old.

And they had meant it.

Now when they actually *were* all alone, fending for themself even though they were only 13, they realized they were

*so.*

*wrong.*

about that.

Now they almost wished they still had their father around.

Even if he didn't love them.

Even if he still hurt them.

Even if that was the rest of their life, at least they wouldn't be alone.

A car door slamming shut interrupted their thoughts and brought them back to reality.

They crept over to the window and looked through the curtains.

Two people stepped out of a car and another person who Purple recognized as a real estate person got out of another.

*What? There are people here already?! It's only been like a month since she died and people thought the house was empty..*

But they didn't have time to think about it because the people were approaching the house.

In a panic, they ran down the basement stairs and closed the door behind them.

Hopefully the people wouldn't really care about the unfinished basement and wouldn't tour it.

So Purple sat down and tried to catch their breath as the people upstairs toured the first and second floors of the house.

The creak of the basement door opening nearly gave Purple a heart attack.

Turns out the people *were* interested in the unfinished basement.

The lights flickered on.

"The basement isn't finished," the real estate person said. "but y'know, you can do whatever you want with it. It's actually pretty big and-"

He looked down to see a terrified Purple.

"Uh, who are you?"

The trembling stick didn't answer.

Instead, they scrambled to their feet and ran outside.

### Part Two

Purple's heart pounded as they ran down the road.

They were helpless.

They were hopeless.

They had nowhere to go.

Nowhere to hide.

No one to run to.

At least not until they ran into a dark shape and staggered back in pain.

They stared into the swirling violet color of the portal.

And just looked at it, trying to figure out what it was.

The sound of heavy footsteps behind them snapped them out of their trance and they dove into the portal.

Purple almost didn't believe they weren't dreaming.

The area around them looked like how they had imagined hell to look like, all red with lava and searing heat and what sounded like crying all around them.

And everything was square.

Panicking, they ran in search of another portal.

Because if they were being perfectly honest, they weren't sure if this hell-like dimension was much worse than being hunted down in the real world.

The boiling hot stone they were running on burned their feet, but they couldn't stop.

They had to keep going.

Had to escape.

Had to survive.

They almost cried when they found another portal.

Everything ached, they were drenched in sweat, and the bottoms of their feet were black from severe burns.

And so they ran through the portal, not really caring what was on the other side.

The other side of the portal was still all square, but significantly colder.

Even the raindrops that poured down were square.

But at least it wasn't hell.

And it wasn't the "real world."

That was what they wanted, right?

They had escaped the two places they had desperately wanted to escape, so everything was fine now, right?

Looking down at the burns on the bottom of their feet, they remembered something.

Just because you've escaped what's hurting you, it doesn't mean the scars are all gone.