In celebration of my own birthday (and anyone else born on the 27th–happy birthday!), I decided to write some more Spicyhoney! (I have a problem). This one is a strange mixture of fluff and angst (the angst is pretty heavy though, just a warning). I’ll put the warnings in the tags, to avoid spoilers, but I strongly advise reading them for anyone who has trouble dealing with particular themes. Otherwise, enjoy! (Or just, you know. Suffer.)

Summary: They say the life of a candle represents the life of a monster. The strongest souls have the brightest flames. But what happens when the flame goes out?

AO3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12850143

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Bright rays of early morning
sunlight streamed in through the half-drawn curtains, and birds chirped
melodically outside. Two candles sat on the windowsill, one tall, crimson, and
burning brightly. The other was shorter, the wick almost completely burnt down,
the wax pale gold in colour. The flames flickered in the early morning breeze,
but never extinguished.

Edge rolled over in bed,
squeezing his eye sockets shut against the light. It wasn’t like him to sleep
this late, but today was a special day, and he wanted to savour every moment of
it. As if on cue, the mattress shifted beside him, a soft groan sounding from
beneath the sheets. Edge smiled, shuffling to press himself against the body
beside him. “Good morning, lazybones,” he murmured, touching his teeth to the
back of the other skeleton’s neck in a chaste kiss.

“still morning?” Stretch mumbled,
groggily. “hm, got a few more hours then…”

Normally, his boyfriend’s
aptitude for laziness would bother Edge, but right now, it made his soul swell
with warm fondness. He chuckled softly, nuzzling into the nape of Stretch’s
neck. “Take as long as you like, love,” he whispered. “It is your birthday
after all.”

This seemed to catch Stretch’s
attention. He spun around abruptly, so that he and Edge were face-to-face. His
eye sockets were narrowed in suspicion, golden eye-lights darkening. “how did
you…? wait… blue told you, didn’t he?” Edge’s smile broadened, and he nodded
wordlessly. Stretch scowled, muttering a curse under his breath. “that
little—i’ll have to have a word with him.”

“Don’t be too harsh on your
brother,” Edge said, running the back of his hand down Stretch’s cheekbone. “He
just wanted you to enjoy yourself. We weren’t even sure that you would l—” Edge
broke off, his soul suddenly feeling heavy. Stretch seemed to sense the shift
in his mood, because he pressed himself closer to Edge, lifting one of his
hands and placing a gentle kiss on the back of it.

“well, alright then, i’ll play
along,” he said, gentle breaths ghosting over the back of Edge’s hand. Edge
gave a small smile, and Stretch smirked at him mischievously. “but… since it is my birthday, does that mean birthday
sex?” Stretch began to nip playfully at Edge’s fingers, who couldn’t help but
let out a small laugh.

“Maybe later, if you’re good,” he
said, gently coaxing his hand from Stretch’s grip.

“if i’m good?” Stretch scoffed. “it’s
my birthday, i don’t have to be
good.”

“Yes, you do. We have guests
coming over.”

Stretch’s face fell, and he
released Edge’s hand. “oh. edge, you know i don’t—”

Edge quickly shook his head.
“It’s alright, nothing extravagant. Just the Tale brothers and a couple of
others.”

Stretch raised his brow bone,
looking skeptical. “a couple?”

Edge sighed. “Okay, ten or
twenty.” Stretch levelled him with a glare. “Or thirty—look, it doesn’t matter,
they won’t be here long. They just wanted to see you and wish you a happy
birthday.” Edge deliberately neglected to tell Stretch that he and Blue had
initially been planning to invite over a hundred people. Red had managed to
talk them out of it, much to Edge and Blue’s disappointment. He and Stretch’s
brother shared a mutual love of obsessive planning, and the opportunity to
throw a birthday extravaganza for their favourite skeleton had delighted both
of them.

But—as Red had reminded
them—Stretch had never been fond of crowds, and would likely not enjoy being
made a fuss of, so they’d been forced to cut back on the birthday expenditures.
To a degree. Blue had refused to back down on the giant, honey-flavoured
birthday cake and colourful living room decorations.

Stretch huffed indignantly,
scowling as he picked at a loose thread on his pillow. “this is exactly why i
never told you when my birthday was—you and blue are truly the worst duo.”

“Hey,” Edge murmured softly,
placing gentle kisses on the tips of Stretch’s fingers. “It’s only because we
love you.”

Stretch held Edge’s gaze for a
moment, expression unreadable. But it quickly morphed into amusement, and he
stifled a snort, placing a soft kiss on Edge’s teeth. “you’re such a sap,
edgelord.”

Edge smiled, pulling Stretch
closer so that their bodies were pressed together. “Yes. But I’m your sap.”

This time, Stretch failed to keep
his laughter suppressed, the chuckles vibrating through him as he struggled to
get out of Edge’s grip. “i’m disgusted. utterly revolted. let go of me, you
little shit.”

Edge tightened his grip, holding
Stretch firmly against him. “Nope. I think I’d like to stay like this.
Forever.”

Stretch’s struggles came to a
slow halt, and he glanced up at Edge. He was smiling, but there was a glint of
sadness in his eye-lights. “i’d like that too.”

Edge found that the humour of the
moment had all but dissipated, a damp feeling settling over his soul. His eyes drifted
to the pitifully small golden candle on the windowsill, the flame dim and low.
He felt Stretch’s hand on his cheek, turning his face so that their eyes were
level. “hey. don’t look at it,” he murmured, eye-lights dim.

Edge swallowed, resting his chin
atop Stretch’s skull. He allowed himself to breathe in his scent, appreciate
the feeling of him, wrapped up in his arms. His warmth, the gentle pulse of his
soul, the soft rise and fall of his chest. Edge could feel tears prickling at
his eye sockets, which he blinked back, taking a shuddering breath. “Stretch,
I—”

“hey.” Stretch drew away gently,
looking at Edge. His gaze was steady, but the conviction in his expression was
betrayed by the pallor of his normally vibrant golden eye-lights, the
exhaustion set in his features. “don’t think about it. this is meant to be a
happy day.”

Edge shook his head, unable to
stop the single tear that trailed down his cheek. “It’s barely got a week left,”
he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. His gaze darted back to the candle,
the flame flickering slightly in the cool breeze passing through the open
window. “I-I thought there was more time—I thought—”

“stop.” Edge swallowed again,
allowing Stretch to draw him close for a gentle kiss. He could feel his own
tears mixing with their combined magic, but Stretch didn’t seem to care, his
mouth gliding smoothly over Edge’s. When he drew away, he was smiling, and Edge
recognised the familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “you know what would
make you feel better? fucking me into this mattress.”

Edge laughed quietly as he wiped
away the tears on his cheekbones, shaking his head disdainfully. “You’re
insatiable.”

“and it’s your job to sate me.
c’mon, edgelord. you wouldn’t deny me on my birthday, would you?” The smile on
Stretch’s face was anything but innocent, and Edge couldn’t help but return it
with one of his own.

“Your brother is making breakfast
downstairs,” he said, chuckling as Stretch began pressing light kisses to his
neck. “It would be rude to—”

“edge,” Stretch said, abruptly
pulling away to hold him with a questioning look, his brow bone raised. “is it
his birthday or mine?”

Edge shook his head, knowing he
was fighting a losing battle. “Fine. You’ve convinced me. You needy little
birthday brat.”

Stretch grinned, latching his
teeth onto Edge’s cervical vertebrae once again. “you liar. you were convinced
from the start.”

Edge smiled, pressing a soft kiss
to the top of Stretch’s skull. “I love you. So much.”

“heh. i know.” Stretch withdrew
for a moment to gaze at Edge, his pale golden eye-lights scanning Edge’s
features. Edge could feel the soft spark of magic that seemed to pass between
them where their fingers met, hands gently clasping around each other. Slowly,
Stretch leaned back in, pressing a trail of soft skeleton kisses to Edge’s clavicle.
“now. how about you show me just how much you love me?”

****

Blue glanced up from the stove as
Edge and Stretch entered the kitchen. Both were looking a little dishevelled,
and Blue huffed his annoyance. “Edge! I told you not to let him convince you to
allow any—any canoodling before breakfast!”

Edge shrugged, though the pale
crimson tint on his cheekbones betrayed his embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Blue. He
is the birthday boy,” he said, taking a seat at the table.

Stretch grinned as he sat beside
Edge, looking all too pleased with himself. “the edgelord just needed an excuse
to act on his impulses.” He shot Edge an accusatory look, humour sparkling in
his eye-lights. “don’t lie to my brother, you horny bastard.”

Edge blushed deeper, and Blue
shook his head, pinning his brother with a glare. “Spare me the details of your
sex life, Papy! And don’t tease Edge! He put a lot of effort into today.” Blue
met Edge’s gaze with a thankful smile. He knew how much Edge wanted today to go
well—he needed a victory. They were both aware that Stretch wasn’t exactly fond
of big celebrations, so they’d planned to keep the festivities to a minimum.

Blue gave the pancakes one last
flip before shifting them onto a plate and placing them in front of his
brother. “Here you go, Papy! Just how you like them.” Blue watched Stretch with
a patient smile, awaiting his brother’s assessment of his cooking. Edge had
been teaching him for the past year, and while Blue was certain he was
improving, his brother did tend to lay on the praise a little more thickly than
was called for at times.

Slowly, Stretch took a bite,
expression thoughtful as he chewed. After swallowing, he gave a hum, nodding
his head. “hmm, they’re really good, bro—could do with a little more honey
though.”

Blue scoffed, but blushed at the
praise. Out of the corner of his socket, he caught Edge shooting him a smile,
and he preened, scrambling to grab a bottle of honey from the cupboard. “Here
you go, Papy. Though I’m not sure the lack of honey is truly the issue—your palate
is far too accustomed to sweet things!” Blue grimaced as his brother squeezed a
more than generous helping of the saccharine liquid onto the pancakes.

“the way i see it, the only sweet
things i’m accustomed to in this kitchen are you two.”

Both Blue and Edge groaned,
rolling their eyes. Edge leaned in to murmur to Blue, “Your next lesson will
involve learning not to hand those ones to him on a silver platter.”

“you do realise that was a pun in
itself, edgy?” Stretch was grinning, and both Blue and Edge glared at him.

“Eat your pancakes, Papy,” Blue
said, with a sigh. “Edge and I have important birthday business to discuss.” He
gave Edge a deliberate look, and the darker skeleton nodded, rising from his
seat.

“careful. if you take too long, i
might have an abundance of
kitchen-related puns cooked up for
you when you get back.”

Edge levelled Stretch’s gaze, eye
sockets narrowed. “If it weren’t your birthday, you’d be in for a serious
punishment.”

Stretch grinned, winking. “that a
promise?”

Blue huffed in exasperation,
taking a hold of Edge’s arm and guiding him away from the table. “Behave
yourself, Papy—and Edge, stop making it so easy for him!”

Stretch’s laughter followed them
out of the room, Blue shooting his brother one last glare before closing the kitchen
door. As soon as they were alone, the mood seemed to drop, the smile falling
from Edge’s face. Blue adjusted his bandana, trying to keep his tone light.
“Everything ready for tonight?” he asked, forcing a smile that Edge didn’t
return, simply nodding wordlessly instead. Blue bit down, trying to swallow
against the lump in his throat. “I’m certain he’ll love it, Edge! And if it’s
too much, I’m sure he won’t be opposed to you stealing him away for a bit.”
Edge was still silent, gaze fixed on the carpet, shoulders slumped in a manner
so unnatural of the normally poised skeleton. Blue sighed, feeling resigned.
“How… how long left on the candle?”

“A week, at most,” Edge said,
quietly. Blue sucked in a sharp breath, his soul stuttering.

“Oh,” was all he seemed able to
say, his voice cracking slightly. They stood silently for a moment, a somber
air between them. A heavy pit seemed to have formed in Blue’s soul, and he bit
down against the tears that prickled in his eye sockets. “I… I’ve been trying
not to count down the days, but…”

“But you don’t want to miss it. I
know.” Edge looked defeated. The expression was one Blue seldom saw, and he
hated it. Seeing Edge—someone he looked up to, almost idolised—so crushed, made
it very difficult for Blue to retain his own determination.

He tugged on his bandana, giving
a shuddering sigh before shaking his head. “We shouldn’t think about,” he said,
injecting as much resolve into his tone as he could manage. “We need to stay
strong—for him. He doesn’t need us to be…”

“I know,” Edge said, finally
looking up. “He told me as much this morning.”

A small smile tugged at Blue’s
mouth, his soul warming slightly. His brother had been so strong through all of
this. Suddenly, there was a crackle of magic from the kitchen; Blue recognised
it as the sound of his brother’s teleportation. He and Edge exchanged nothing
more than a brief glance, before they were both rushing to the kitchen. Stretch
was leaning over the sink, retching violently. Blue and Edge were immediately
at his side, Blue running a soothing hand over his brother’s back. “Shh, it’s
okay, Papy, it’s okay.” The heaviness had returned to his soul, and he met
Edge’s pensive gaze over his brother’s shoulder. “We’ve got you, Papy,” Blue
hushed, keeping his voice low and consoling.

A glance at the contents of the
sink caused his soul to twist into an uncomfortable knot. Stretch’s magic was
pale—almost translucent—bearing very little substance. The expression on Edge’s
face told Blue that he was thinking the same thing. He could see the tight set
of the other skeleton’s shoulders, the stiff look on his face. When Stretch
eventually drew away, his eye-lights were dim, bones taking on a sallow
appearance. Still, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—though Blue
could tell he was forcing it for the sake of the other two skeletons. “heh.
sorry guys, guess eating was a bit ambitious. just didn’t have the stomach for
it.”

Neither Blue nor Edge had the
energy to chastise Stretch for the pun, and Blue shook his head, wrapping an
arm around his brother’s waist as he guided him back to the table. “Oh Papy,
I’m so sorry,” he said, hearing the misery he’d been trying so hard to quell in
his own voice. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his tone light. “I should
have known it would be too much.”

But Stretch was shaking his head,
though his limbs quivered slightly as he sat down. “nah, it’s alright, bro. if
it makes you feel any better, it wasn’t the cooking.”

Blue shook his head, wrapping his
arms around Stretch, no longer able to stop the tears stinging his eye sockets.
“It doesn’t,” he murmured. He caught Edge’s eye over his brother’s shoulder,
the darker skeleton leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms folded,
and Blue could tell he was struggling to fight his own tears as well.

****

“Are you sure you’re feeling
alright? You really don’t have to do this.”

Stretch shook his head, offering
Edge a weak smile. “i’m fine. really. besides, it’s been ages since i’ve seen
paps and sans—it’ll be good to spend some time with them before…”

Edge nodded quickly, giving
Stretch’s hand a tight squeeze as he guided him down the stairs. His soul felt
damp and heavy—slumping lower every time he saw the dim pallidity of Stretch’s
face and eyes—but he was doing his best not to let it show. He knew it wouldn’t
do anyone any favours to darken the mood, and this was supposed to be about
making Stretch happy. “I suppose Blue’s honeycomb cake is out of the question
for you?” he said.

Stretch gave a shaky laugh, and
sighed in resignation. “yeah, don’t think i’ll be able to stomach it.”

Edge chuckled, quietly. “Nope.
Try again. You already used that one today.”

Stretch looked thoughtful for a
moment, frowning. “huh. you’re right. guess i just knead more time to mull
it over.”

“There you go.”

Stretch grinned as he flopped
down onto the couch, glancing around the living room. “heh, pretty impressive
decorations.”

Edge’s gaze wandered to the
ceiling, where several glittering streamers were draped. Blue had also arranged
the multicoloured balloons in an almost floral display, the room bursting with
vibrancy. “Courtesy of your brother. Red managed to talk him out of a live band—but
he does have a few additions to the lighting which will come later.”

Stretch chuckled, shaking his
head. “trust him to take things to the extreme.”

Edge coughed, nodding in
agreement, while deliberately neglecting to mention that he had been adamantly
on Blue’s side when it came to the band. “Yes, he is rather fond of extravagance.”
He dropped down beside Stretch, who leaned his head on Edge’s shoulder. Edge
wrapped an arm around him, pulling him closer, and pressing his teeth to
Stretch’s cheekbone.

“y’know, sometimes i kinda wish
we were still underground,” Stretch said, quietly. “things were a lot simpler.”

Edge was silent for a moment,
deep in thought. He idly ran a hand over Stretch’s spine, tracing each
individual vertebra, feeling the shudder that ran through Stretch as he did. “I
suppose some things were,” he said, at length. “But a lot of it was…
complicated.”

Stretch drew away slightly to
glance up at him, brow bone raised into a smirk. “are you talking about the raw
sexual tension between us—or the fact that you basically had to kill people for
a living?”

Edge frowned slightly, looking
away from Stretch. Though he knew it had been a joke, things hadn’t always been
that way between them. Edge could still remember the days when Stretch had all
but despised him for his lifestyle. “A bit of both,” he said. “It is nice waking
up every morning and not having to wonder if I’ll make it to the evening.”

Edge fell silent suddenly, chest
growing tight. Stretch frowned at him, eye-lights somber. He reached a hand up
to Edge’s cheekbone, cupping it gently. “edge…”

“I’m sorry,” Edge said quickly,
his voice breaking slightly. “This is—a good day. I shouldn’t—”

Edge was interrupted by the sound
of a loud knocking on the front door, followed by an enthusiastic shout of,
“KNOCK, KNOCK.”

A smile crept across Stretch’s
face, and he clambered off the couch, strolling over to the door. “who’s
there?” he asked, leaning against the frame, hand on the doorknob.

“STRETCH? YOU KNOW WHO THIS—”

The voice on the other side of
the door was cut off by the sound of scuffling, then a beat of silence before a
gruff voice rang out. “papy.”

Stretch grinned at Edge, who gave
a sigh, rolling his eye-lights. “papy who?”

“papy birthday to you.”

“SANS!”

With a chuckle, Stretch opened
the door, revealing the two brothers from the Undertale universe. Edge raised
his brow bone as his eyes fell on Papyrus’ shirt—the words ‘birthday boy’ were
scrawled across it, seemingly in black permanent marker. Stretch didn’t seem
bothered though, conceding as Papyrus threw his arms around him, pulling him
into a crushing hug. “LAZY ME! SANS AND I HAVE ARRIVED TO CELEBRATE YOUR
BIRTHDAY WITH YOU.” Papyrus’ gaze drifted to his brother for a moment as he
released Stretch, eye sockets narrowing. “THOUGH I WILL SAY, I AM NOT PLEASED
THAT THE TWO OF YOU PLOTTED TO UTILISE ME AS A TOOL IN ONE OF YOUR AWFUL
JOKES.”

Stretch grinned, giving Papyrus’
shoulder a playful shove. “hey, you’re a birthday boy too—that means you gotta be
a part of the jokes.”

Papyrus shook his head with an
enduring sigh. “AS GREAT AS I AM, THAT IS ONE CONDITION I WILL NOT ABIDE BY.”
Stretch and Sans shared a grin, chuckling softly. Papyrus frowned at them for a
moment, before his gaze drifted to Edge, who was still seated on the couch.
“EDGY ME—WHERE IS YOUR BIRTHDAY OUTFIT?”

Edge blinked, a small frown
crossing his features. “It’s not my birthday…” he said, slowly.

Papyrus released another sigh,
shaking his head. “YOU MAY BE GREAT, EDGY ME – ALMOST AS GREAT AS I AM, PERHAPS
– BUT YOU HAVE MUCH TO LEARN. THE BIRTHDAY OF ONE PAPYRUS SIGNIFIES THE
BIRTHDAY OF ALL PAPYRI.”

Edge smirked, raising his brow
bone. “Does it now?” He caught Sans shooting him a warning glance over his
brother’s shoulder, and he shrugged. “Very well. Perhaps you are correct. I’ll
remember for next time.”

“ALAS, IF ONLY THERE WERE A
NEXT—” Papyrus broke off suddenly, and Edge was certain it was the first time
he’d seen the unreserved skeleton hesitant to speak. He glanced at Stretch,
whose expression was guarded, hands shoved in his pockets. Papyrus cleared his
throat, taking Stretch by the arm. “No matter—LAZY ME, ACCOMPANY ME TO THE
KITCHEN. WHILE I KNOW BLUE HAS BEEN TRAINING HARD TO IMPROVE HIS COOKING
SKILLS, I DO BELIEVE HE COULD USE A FEW POINTERS.”

Stretch shot Edge an amused look
over his shoulder as he allowed himself to be guided to the kitchen, Papyrus
chatting animatedly to him about how Undyne had been teaching him how to fit as
many candles as possible onto a cake. Edge glanced away as they disappeared
into the kitchen, feeling the couch shift a few moments later as Sans sat
beside him. They were silent for some time, though Edge found he was never
uncomfortable in Sans’ presence; the generally quiet skeleton had a relaxed air
about him that always seemed to ease some of the tension Edge was constantly
carrying around. “so how you holdin’ up, edgelord?” Sans asked after some time,
using Stretch’s nickname for him. It was a habit he’d picked up recently, after
spending more time around the Underfell skeleton. Edge had found it a little off-putting
at first, but after a time, he’d come to appreciate it, the familiarity
bringing him comfort.

“I’m fine,” he said quietly,
though even he could hear the stiffness to his tone.

He was grateful that Sans didn’t
push him though, simply nodding as he leaned back on the couch. “guess the
stress of planning a party can really get to you,” he said, giving Edge a deliberate
look. Edge nodded wordlessly, well aware that Sans knew party planning wasn’t
the real reason for his despondency. “paps said he was surprised you and blue
decided to go through with it,” Sans continued. “says parties aren’t really
stretch’s thing.”

Edge couldn’t help but smile,
nodding as he gazed at the balloons as they slowly swayed in the breeze let in
by the open windows. He knew that Papyrus was a lot more invested in his
friends’ lives than he let on, and part of him even wondered if he’d worn the
‘birthday boy’ shirt as a way to divert some of the attention away from
Stretch, knowing full well that he wouldn’t enjoy the spotlight anyway. “Your
brother is very observant,” he commented.

Sans grinned, gaze drifting to
the kitchen door. “yeah. he’s way too cool.” He glanced back at Edge, examining
him with a scrutiny Edge was certain he’d only ever seen on this Sans’ face. “so
why did you, then? go through with it?”

A cold pit settled in Edge’s
soul, and he swallowed before answering. “We wouldn’t have bothered—but we
thought it might be nice for everyone to see him before…” he trailed off, looking
away.

“how long?” Sans asked, the usual
humour absent from his tone.

“A week,” Edge said.

“candle?” Edge nodded,
subconsciously wrapping his arms around himself, despite the warm summer air.
Sans grunted wordlessly, pulling a bottle of ketchup from somewhere in his
jacket and biting off the cap. “that really sucks,” he said, taking a long swig
from the bottle.

For some reason, this extracted a
laugh from Edge—a very quiet laugh, devoid of any real humour—but a laugh
nonetheless. “Yes. It really does suck.”

****

“heya, boss. enjoyin’ the
festivities?”

Edge glanced up from where he was
sitting on the carpet, back against the wall, knees pulled up to his chest.
“Not particularly.”

Red gave a doleful nod. “figured
as much. mind if i sit?” Edge shrugged, playing with a thread on the carpet, as
Red dropped down beside him. “where’s yer boyfriend?”

“Hiding somewhere, probably,”
Edge said, gaze wandering around the room. “I think all the attention is
getting to him a bit.” The living room was buzzing with the chatter and
laughter of the guests, as well as the loud music Blue had decided to play in
place of the live band. Edge had to admit, he was impressed by Blue’s work with
the lights. When it had grown dark outside, the ceiling had slowly illuminated
with hundreds of tiny twinkling bulbs, emulating the night sky. The resemblance
to the old Wishing Room from the Underground brought a pleasant sense of
nostalgia, and Edge wondered if Blue had done it deliberately.

“why aren’t ya with ‘im?” Red
asked, holding his brother’s gaze.

Edge shook his head, looking
away. “He needs to spend some time with his other friends. I can’t steal him
for the whole night.”

“it’s his night, boss. i honestly
think he’d rather be spendin’ it with you.”

Edge bit down to stop himself
from snapping at his brother. He knew his emotions were unstable at the moment,
and he was doing his best to keep them in check. “I don’t think I’d make the
best company right now, Red,” he said, chest growing tight.

Red sighed, shifting where he was
seated to face Edge, a sense of sobriety in his gaze that didn’t suit the
normally laid-back skeleton. “boss, of all the people here tonight, do ya
really think yer the last person he’d wanna be with? c’mon, he needs ya right now.
go find ‘im.”

Edge squeezed his sockets shut,
trying to will away the tears that threatened to fall. His hand had formed a
fist at his side, and his soul felt as if it were being crushed by an immense
pressure. “I—can’t, Red,” he choked.
“Every time I look at him, I—I feel like I’m about to fall apart. He—he should
be enjoying this. I can’t let him see me breaking like this. I—I have to be
strong, I can’t—”

Edge broke off as Red placed a
hand on his arm, his expression tender. “i think yer wrong boss. i think this
is exactly how he needs to see ya. it shows ya care, boss. it tells him
that—that he matters.”

Edge blinked hard against the
tears in his eyes, swallowing thickly as he took a few deep, shuddering breaths
to regain his composure. “It hurts, Red.” Edge’s voice was so small, for a
second he wondered if he had actually been the one who had spoken. He felt Red
give his arm a squeeze, his cherry coloured eye-lights fierce in the dim
lighting.

“let it. don’t hold it in, boss, let it hurt.” Edge took a few more stiff
breaths, trying to alleviate the tightness in his chest. Red gently ran his
hand over his arm, sharp fingers catching on the small creases and scars. “go
be there for ‘im,” he said. “and let ‘im be there for ya, too. you two need
each other tonight.”

Despite the booming music and
rowdy guests, the room suddenly felt so still, so quiet. Edge felt as if the
darkness were swallowing him up, crushing his soul. He felt utterly alone. With
a few shaky breaths, he gave a resolute nod, climbing to his feet. Red smiled
up at him, eye-lights conveying the true sorrow of the expression, and gave
Edge a small nod. “you don’t have to be alone tonight, boss. go be with him.”

****

It didn’t take Edge long to find
Stretch. As he pushed open their bedroom door, he was met with darkness,
illuminated only by the soft flickering of the two candles on the windowsill.
Stretch was on the floor, arms wrapped around his knees, his gaze on the two
flames in front of him. He didn’t look up as Edge entered, closing the door
behind him. “I though I might find you here,” Edge said, quietly, taking a seat
on the floor beside Stretch.

“sorry for sneaking off. guess
there’s only so much socialising i can handle.”

“It’s alright.” Edge watched the
two flames as they quivered in the breeze let in through the window—the crimson
candle seeming to burn so much brighter than the dwindling gold one. “I know
crowds aren’t your thing. We just figured it might be nice to…”

“say goodbye,” Stretch murmured,
words almost swallowed by the gentle howling of the wind outside. Edge grit his
teeth, fighting against the lump in his chest.

“Right.” His voice barely seemed
to make it out of his throat, the word choked. His gaze wandered to Stretch,
whose eyes hadn’t left the two candles before him. The dim light cast strange
shadows across his face, amplifying the exhaustion that was already so
prominent in his features.

“i like your candle,” Stretch
said, breaking the silence. “it’s strong. it’ll last a long time.”

Edge wanted to remark that he
wished it wouldn’t. That he didn’t want it to last. That he wished his candle
was just as small as Stretch’s. But he knew Stretch didn’t need to hear
that—that it wouldn’t bring him any comfort, so he simply nodded. “I suppose it
will.” He rested his head on his knees, allowing the gentle sway of the flames
lull him into a passive state of mind, calming his soul. It was nice to pretend
that he could stay here like this forever, with Stretch at his side—so close
and so warm—his presence the greatest comfort Edge could hope for. His hand
crept over the carpet until it came into contact with Stretch. The touch sent a
tingle down his spine, and he wove their fingers together, bringing Stretch’s
hand to his teeth and pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it.

Stretch glanced up at him, a
small smile on his face. Part of Edge wished he would stop smiling. It felt so
out of place. Too kind and soft in contrast to the harsh pain in Edge’s soul.
Glancing back at the candles, Stretch said, “i suppose, if nothing else, blue
will be happy with how tonight turned out. the decorations looked good—as brief
as my time with them was.” He gave a soft laugh, fingers tracing idle patterns
over Edge’s hand.

Edge nodded, though he found it
difficult to return Stretch’s smile. “He wouldn’t have bothered being so
extravagant and chromatic, we just didn’t want it to feel like…”

“a farewell?” Stretch suggested,
his smile turning sad.

“A funeral,” Edge whispered, his
grasp on Stretch’s hand tightening. Stretch’s smile fell, and the warmth seemed
to extinguish from Edge’s soul, leaving nothing but a cold, dull ache. He
allowed Stretch to pull him into a tight embrace, the tears flowing freely from
his eye sockets now.

A year ago, Stretch had been
diagnosed with a rare disease human doctors had dubbed morbus animae – sickness of the soul. His body was unable to retain
magic for very long, and he grew weaker by the day. Edge had known that the
doctors had given up on their research when Stretch’s candle had begun to
dwindle at an alarming pace, the skeleton growing more and more frail as the
wax melted. Now they were just counting down the days.

Edge could feel the unsteady
pulse of Stretch’s soul now with his head pressed against his chest, the faint
stutter of it so weak – almost inaudible. Stretch wrapped his arms tighter
around Edge, remaining silent as Edge finally allowed himself to cry. He shook
uncontrollably, pain wracking his chest and soul.

He’d spent a good majority of his
life more than ready to die—even ready to see his own brother die. Every day in
Underfell had been a battle for survival, a fight to live, wondering if he and
his brother would make it to the next day. And Edge had been ready—ready to
die, ready for Red to die, ready for Undyne to die—he’d even go so far as to
say he’d been expecting it.

But this was different. This was
worse. He felt helpless against this. There was nothing he could do to save
Stretch. He couldn’t fight it, or run from it. He just had to sit and wait as
the disease slowly killed the monster he loved—completely powerless to do
anything against it. It was a constant dread hanging over him, a long wait for
something he couldn’t stop.

“it’s alright,” Stretch
whispered, running a soothing hand down Edge’s spine. “it’s okay, edge, i’m
right here.”

Edge shook his head as he sobbed,
tears staining the front of Stretch’s hoodie. “It’s not okay,” he breathed, voice
shaking. “I can’t—I can’t save you. I can’t do anything.”

“you don’t have to save
everyone.” Stretch’s voice was soft, but Edge could tell he was struggling to
keep it steady. “you can’t control everything, edge. some things just… happen.”

Edge grit his teeth against the
tears, pressing harder against Stretch’s chest as he gasped through his sobs.
“You don’t understand, Stretch—you don’t… you don’t know what it feels like to—to go to bed every night,
wondering if you’re going to wake up to a bed of dust—” Edge whimpered, choking
on his words. He felt like he was crumbling, his whole world collapsing around
him, the darkness swallowing him up.

“you’re not weak, edge,” Stretch
murmured, pressing a light kiss to the top of his skull. “i know this isn’t
just about me—i know how hard it is for you, not being able to fight your way
out of this one. i know you hate not being able to control this. but, i need
you to promise me something…” Edge took a shuddering breath as Stretch gently
pulled away, reaching for the windowsill. His hand clasped around the crimson
candle, his fingers appearing so delicate and frail in contrast to the sturdy
object. He held the flame at eye level between them, the gentle light
illuminating their faces. “don’t let it go out, edge,” he whispered. “when i’m…
gone, promise me that you won’t give up. promise me that you’ll keep fighting…
please…” Stretch’s voice was soft, almost desperate as he watched Edge through
the darkness, pale tears forming at the brims of his eye sockets.

Edge breathed deeply, the air
seeming to catch in his throat. He reached out, shakily placing his hands over
Stretch’s. Even against the warm wax of the candle, they felt cold, the life
and magic drained from them. Tears still flowing freely, he met Stretch’s gaze,
trying to keep his hands steady, and nodded. “I promise,” he whispered, voice
barely escaping his constricting chest. “I promise I—I’ll keep fighting… for
you.”

A small smile tugged at the
corner of Stretch’s mouth, but he shook his head, leaning close so that their
faces were inches apart. “not for me, edge,” he said softly, removing one hand
from the candle to cup Edge’s face. “for you.
keep going for yourself. i want to know that you won’t give up—that you’ll
keep going because you want to. don’t make a promise you can’t keep. don’t do
it for me. do it for you.”

Edge shook his head, a sob
escaping him and fresh tears flowing from his eyes. “I—I can’t,” he choked out,
quivering. “I can’t—not without you… I love you.” Edge couldn’t keep himself
from whimpering, his words becoming lost in the turbulent waves of despair
washing over him. Gently, Stretch pried the candle from his hands, holding it
firmly in his own.

“edge, don’t let me leave this
world knowing that you still don’t love yourself. please don’t—” Stretch broke
off, and for the first time, Edge saw tears staining his cheekbones. It caused
an ache so deep he felt as if his soul might crack. All this time, Stretch had
been so calm and composed—as if he was ready. Unafraid to die. But now—now he
seemed afraid. “you deserve to be happy, edge,” Stretch whispered. “with or
without me—you deserve it. i—i love
you, and i can’t die knowing that you don’t believe that. i can’t leave you—knowing
that this was all for nothing. that after everything, you still don’t…” Stretch
broke off with a shaky breath, wiping at the tears on his cheekbones with his
sleeve.

Edge felt as brittle as glass,
ready to shatter. He felt as if the walls he so obstinately worked to keep up
had crumbled around him, leaving him vulnerable to everything he tried so hard
to bottle up. His entire body was shaking; he felt so weak, so empty and
exposed. The light seemed drained from his soul, the candle in Stretch’s hands
flickering faintly. “i know you’re strong, edge,” Stretch murmured, trailing a
hand down the back of Edge’s neck as he pulled him close, resting their
foreheads together. “but it’s okay to be weak sometimes.”

Their mouths met in a soft, but
desperate kiss. Edge allowed himself to sink into it, the faint warmth of
Stretch igniting a small spark within his soul—a faint glimmer of something
good. Something he could hold onto. When they withdrew, silence ticked between
them for a few moments, broken only by Edge’s quiet, quavering breaths. He
glanced at the red candle, still flickering in Stretch’s hand—then at the small
golden candle on the windowsill, the flame almost non-existent as it quivered
in the wind. “I’ll keep fighting,” he whispered. “I love you, and I—I’ll keep
going… for you, until I’m ready to live for myself. I promise… I won’t give
up.”

Stretch smiled, tears sparkling
in his eyes, and the warmth in Edge’s soul grew—just a little. “thank you,
edge,” he whispered, leaning his head against Edge’s shoulder, red candle still
cradled in his hand, almost protectively. It would be many years still until
that candle went out, burning strongly long after the pale golden candle’s
flame extinguished.

Edge watched the tiny flame on
the windowsill, sparking in the slight breeze outside. It was small and weak—almost
lifeless. But with every essence of his being, Edge held onto it, allowing the
fire to spread within him, like a driving force, willing him to continue.
Because as long as his candle was still burning, Edge had no intention of breaking
his promise.