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Fun Ghoul wasn't shivering on the frigid earth he lied on now. On the cracked dirt, he was curled up on his side with a burnt out campfire a few feet in front of him. Either from the hypothermia, or his anger, he wasn't shaking.

On the other side, Party Poison lied halfway zipped up in a sleeping bag. And Ghoul could tell he wasn't asleep.

It all started earlier that day in a firefight when Fun almost got a shot of laser through his head. Out of nowhere, Party began to spout over how irresponsible he was. How Fun could've gotten himself killed, or them both, which was completely unfair. Party was just a guilty as him, and Ghoul wasn't so worthless in the first place.

He knew how to defend himself, and he definitely knew how to shoot a Draculoid through the head for how practically blind he is. In fact, he was a far better shot than Poison, and he often praised Ghoul for it. He wasn't weak, and he didn't need protecting.

Ghoul could leave tonight and probably survive on his own if he wanted to, he thought. He knew he could.. but Party couldn't. Fun knew just as well as he knew that he needed a close friend like him. Always growing up around a brother, Poison couldn't stand the thought of being by himself. The thought that Party believed that he was the loose end made rage bubble in the pit of his stomach.

Even worse, the real issue had been pushed aside earlier, mounting to petty insults and half-assed threats. (It even became physical at one point.) So now Party lied in the sleeping bag facing away from him across the dead campfire.

Was he thinking of what Kobra would do? Probably, Ghoul thought.
Was he gonna ignore it the way Party Poison does? Probably, Ghoul thought.
Was Poison finally figuring out that he was neck deep in this shit? You bet, Ghoul thought.

Fun curled up into a ball on himself and wanted to finally go to sleep so he wouldn't have to think about it.

So when Ghoul jolted half awake by a light tapping on his shoulder, his hand snapped to his gun. Then he realized it was just Party, looking down at him with guilt written all over his face. Not just that, but hurt. Dark bags lined his eyes, and tear tracks told him he'd been crying. Ghoul became aware of the frozen air biting into him, but he refused to give in.

Fun sighed in ironic relief, and lied back down on the dry desert. "What d'you want, Poison?" Ghoul croaked, his throat dry and rigid. Party was down on his knees in front of him with his hands despondent in his lap. He spoke as if he was a word away from crying. "Please hear me out, Frankie, I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. Obviously I'm crying and I've been thinking about what happened earlier.. I d-don't deserve you here from the way I treated you," Party choked out. "I shouldn't even be.." He paused briefly.

"I don't think stating the obvious is gonna fix the problem," Fun retaliated. "I'm not a fucking pushover. I'm not property and you can't treat me like you own me. 'Cause you fucking don't," Ghoul spat, holding his legs close to his chest in fetal position.

Party nodded in understanding. "I-I know. You're right. I can't control you, and that's exactly what I was trying to do. I was just so.."

"You were so what, Gerard?" Ghoul demanded.

"I was scared," he finished, his voice firmer. "I was so fucking terrified that I was gonna lose you. That that Drac was gonna get you and it would all be over. It'd be my fault.. and I can't fucking live without you. I can't do it," Poison asserted, looking downward.

Fun wanted so fucking bad to reach out and tell him everything was going to be okay, but he couldn't. Not with the way he was treated. Ghoul wouldn't give in because he was not a pushover. And he was gonna let Party know that by ignoring him. Or at least, it sounded like a good idea at the time.

Once he collected himself, the redhead hung his head a bit higher, still staring at the ground. "Okay? I'm not expecting you to forgive me, and I don't deserve it. I just.." Party sighed in despair. "I want you to have the sleeping bag. I know you're cold as fuck and you're trying to hide it. I know you too well for that," Poison paused, waiting for a sarcastic remark back at him. But none came.

"So just take it, okay? I'll give it to you, even if you don't answer me."

Party's gaze flickered back to Fun for a moment and he couldn't say no to his eyes. Frank never could, and neither could Poison.

"I, I'm not taking that sleeping bag. I get it, what you're saying, but I just wanna be alone right now," Fun ground out, his voice scratchy and worthless.

But Poison was too stubborn and didn't buy it; he stayed glued to the spot. Minutes on end, staring at him with teary, dim green eyes. Fun decided he wasn't gonna repeat himself and closed his eyes again.

"Frank, please. This is my fault, at least let me do th-at," Poison choked. Yet Ghoul curled into a tight ball on himself and shook his head in stone cold defiance.

"Ghoul-"

"Just leave me alone!" Ghoul snapped. "You've done enough shit to me for one night."

Fun's throat closed at the venom in his own words and flipped over, making himself as small as possible.

For a long, tense moment Poison didn't say anything, before softly answering. "Right, right, okay," he breathed, not even above a whisper. "I'm.. sorry.. for bothering you. Sorry." And he got up, dragging his feet back to his spot on the other side of the dead wood fire. Fun took a reassuring deep breath, closed his eyes. He breathed, and began to sob silently.

The shaking was worse now, and blocking out the cold only wasted energy. Fun just pushed him away. Now he should probably just die.
-
About an hour later Fun managed to calm himself down. Somewhat because the freezing air froze everything, and he wasn't even shivering anymore.

No sounds of tossing and turning came from him, so Ghoul figured Party passed out. While there was nothing he could do but stare straight ahead and feel.

In that time, Ghoul thought back. He thought back to the fear in Poison's eyes when he turned to find that Drac with a fist full of Fun's hair. Then why was he so pissed at him? They yelled at each other for hours. But they threw themselves into near-death situations all the time. Every other week at least.

And a bone-crushing realization struck Ghoul so hard he almost sucked in a lungful of dust. He dry-heaved.

Only a year or so ago did they lose Ray and Mikey. Ghoul is fucking stupid. All those times he got close to getting dusted or taken in the past year.. of course Poison freaked out for once.

It was just like him to keep his anxiety to himself, but Mikey was the one to usually bring it out of him. He couldn't stand to lose anyone else, and that frustration came boiling over in the form of a pointless argument.

Wiping his face, Fun moved for the first time in the last hour. He winced at his cramped back and managed to sit up, by himself.

The desert heat had gone with the sun, leaving cold cold nothing around them. The only exception being the Trans-Am a few yards away.

Ghoul struggled to his feet and almost fell over once he got himself stable. Sniffling, he half-limped tiredly towards the vague lump on the desert ground.

He wondered if Party would hate him or not, but immediately pushed the thought away. He wouldn't, obviously; hate's a strong word. Well if Ghoul had to live with a moody bitch like himself, he'd leave him too. Maybe that's just his opinion.

In fact, Fun considered giving up and collapsing where he stood altogether. But both his back would hurt, and Party would be proven right. He knew there was no sleeping his usual four hours.

Once Party got in closing distance, he obviously wasn't curled up in the sleeping bag. No, not even on top of the thing. But a little less than yard away from it, curled up into his own ball facing Ghoul's direction. Breathing in and out soft breaths so often, Poison slept restlessly.

Their arguing took a lot out of them both; the exception being Fun and his insomnia. But here Party was, passed out on the cold ground in hopes he would take the stupid sleeping bag in submission. Ghoul bit his chapped lip at Party's nature to do things for people, and looked over. The sleeping bag itself looked like it was never opened, zipped up tight along with dusty patches and some ugly holes.

Fun shivered more at the frigid wind billowing around and kicking up dust. He kneeled beside the sleeping bag and zipped it open to find it cold and empty. Fun figured Poison would leave a joke-snake in it, or something.

Pulling open the flap, Ghoul switched his attention back to a still sleeping Party. He reasoned with himself that if he woke up, it was his own fault.

Breathing in more of the freezing air, Fun got down to his knees and scooped Poison into his arms. He might've been taller than him, but they were both pretty skinny. So Fun could pick him up.

Poison didn't wake up, and it worked out pretty well. In fact, he snuggled closer into Ghoul's embrace for warmth, causing sandy red hair to tickle his neck. With a little trouble, the Killjoy managed to lie Party down facing the opposite direction.

Fun stood to return to the the mound of dust that was his bed before he watched Poison mutter and frown at the loss of warmth, and curl into a tighter ball. Maybe Poison would still be too upset, but it was worth a shot. Ghoul sunk down onto the ground and scooted up beside Party, pulled the flap over them, and zipped it up. He still hadn't woken up, so Ghoul hooked his arm around Party's tummy, spooning him.

Snuggling close to him, Fun sighed. "I forgive you." It felt like it needed to be said. And Ghoul let those words echo into the desert night.

The ironic thing? Fun fell asleep five minutes later to Poison's warmth and the sound of his soft breathing.