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bitterkarmaa · 2 months

Text

Recognize

“I came back.”

The pencil freezes mid-word, hovering hastily over the paper as its owner processes the voice, noting how ragged and hoarse it sounds. With a soft sigh, he sets his writing utensil down, letting it roll across his uneven desk for a moment before stopping it with one careful claw.

“You still sound dead, my friend.” He moves the pencil back to its proper place, spinning in his chair to face his other self. His face falls into a frown at the sight of him.

They look more and more alike each time this other version is revived, it seems, as the oil that leaks from his mouth and the open wounds that cover his chassis perfectly reflect some of the more calm Eclipse’s own. It’s unsettling knowing that, in his dimension, he’s done horrid acts so cruel that, even in this state, no one is willing to help him.

But can he blame them? Not really.

The other lets out a raspy, humorless laugh that dies off into a fit of coughs before he can manage to spit out some sort of witty retort.

“Do they know you’re back?” He stands, moving swiftly to catch his counterpart before he loses his balance in his weakened state. Much to his surprise, he doesn’t pull away.

“How could they miss it? I wake up in that damn hall every time I come back! The only way to avoid them would be to prance off into the theater, but what good would that do me?”

With a soft hum, the more scarred of the two leads the other over to his own bed, helping him sit down on the nice, soft, plush surface. He pulls the chair he was previously sitting in over beside the bed, plopping down into it once it is situated across from his leaking, bitter self.

“You said it yourself: you’d be avoiding them.” He quirks a brow at the furious look the other shoots at him, a silent challenge hanging in his gaze, daring him to try and take on an opponent such as himself.

The other backs down with a huff, but makes no attempt at a reply. He keeps his eyes down, focused on the floor, glaring holes into its surface as if taking all his rage out through a single scowl. It doesn’t work; he’s still angry.

By the time he looks up, the vest the calm one wore is draped over the back of the chair, his medallion-esk object laying over it. He has gotten up and crossed the room while the other pouts, gathering a few bandages and other various medical supplies in hopes that easing his pain may make him more reasonable- if that’s even possible for him.

“What are you doing?” He asks incredulously, instinctively leaning away once the one-eyed version of himself approaches with the supplies.

The look he is given tells him that the answer should be obvious. “Helping you.”

His arm is grabbed and pulled before he can think to utter a reply, eyes flying wide as he begins to struggle on instinct for a few moments. A gentle hand comes out, laying on his shoulder, and he startles out of his frenzy just long enough to meet the eye of his better.

“You’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m trying to help.” He murmurs, so gentle, so soft, an echo of the way he wished the others would talk to him, if only for a day. One day. He’s hurt them, he gets that, he always has, but one day of positive recognition would’ve changed that. Just one. Is that too much to ask?

“You’ll hurt me eventually, whether you mean to or not.” He snaps, the twin white flames in his eyes flaring like viberant stars in a night sky.

“I’m quite careful. I don’t make mistakes like that.” His alternate quips lightly, tone both dismissive and reassuring. The injured one doesn’t know how he does that- makes his voice be two things at once. He doesn’t know whether to be offended or not. Could he have been insinuating that he was better than him? That he doesn’t make the mistakes that his alternative self obviously has?

His head hurts. Maybe he just needed to charge and avoid everyone for a while. Deep thoughts like that only made everything worse.

“How long ago did you wake up?”

He is startled out of his thoughts by the calm, curious tone of his better. A frown settles onto his face at the thought of his awakening, still fresh and just as unpleasant as the moment it happened.

“Two hours.” He mutters, refusing to meet the other’s intense one-eyed stare.

“That’s…not long. It makes sense that you aren’t fully functional yet.” The other says in response, beginning to solder the largest holes along his arms shut, wrapping them carefully with bandages to keep the still-mending metal in place and hidden beneath a protective layer of fabric, lest he get himself into more trouble.

“Fully functional? What does that have to do with anything?” He bristles in an almost defensive manner, moving to pull his arm out of his better’s grip. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you very much!”

“Are you?” That single amber eye glints with a silent challenge, the frown set on his face still as sharp as the sneer that reflects back at him.

That sneer falls into a grimace. Another pulse of pain radiates throughout his body, flowing through him like lava, uncomfortably hot. It sends a few more drops of oil down his face, feeling it bubble up in his throat in an all-to-familiar fashion. He’s tired of this. He had thought that pushing Lunar as far as he did would’ve been the end of it. As pesky as that little wretch is, he can’t deny the power he possesses. He had hoped that power would put a stop to whatever- whoever had been bringing him back. He had hoped they’d give up, just like him.

But they didn’t.

“I…I guess I’m not.” The admission doesn’t disgust him as much as he thought it would. It’s embarrassing, and degrading, but…also relieving, somehow. He’s not fine. He’s never been fine. The others back home don’t think he’s fine, either. That’s why Moon is forcing him into that god-forsaken therapy session with Earth once he’s in better health.

He just…doesn’t know what to do about it. Doesn’t know how to handle being ‘not fine.’

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” The better of the two begins, fingers still deftly wrapping bandages around soldered metal plating; “It takes a while to learn that. Even longer to accept it. I admit…I’m still working on it myself. But that doesn’t mean I won’t get there eventually.”

“I don’t know if I want to get there.”

The makeshift-medic pauses in his articulate wrapping. “Why?”

A hand comes out, grabbing hold of the wrist that hovers diligently over his unfinished work.

“I don’t want to go soft, like you.”

Clawless fingers dig into fancy sleeves, pressing into the mechanical wrist beneath. One eye slowly trails upwards until it finds the searing white pair above, staring quietly into that vicious glare for only a few moments before…this grin, wild and deranged, takes the place of the frown on his face.

The other can swear the lava that’s been running through him nonstop since he awoke has finally turned to obsidian.

“Soft? You think I’m soft, do you?”

Those white eyes widen, momentary fear striking him down and holding him in place. He pulls his hand back in one swift motion, holding it close to his chest as if having just been burned.

A clawed hand flashes out, but he…he doesn’t really care. The fear he felt only moments before fades into dull carelessness, hand falling away from his chest, head hanging and eyes closed as he awaits the blow.

Maybe dying in another universe again will finally end this. Maybe he can finally be free.

When the rush of air stops and he is greeted by not even a small twinge of pain, he feels rage instead of relief. His eyes open to find his counterpart…gone.

He searches the room in a deranged frenzy, wild eyes cast in every direction and yet seeing nothing. He doesn’t take in the blankets in the corner, or the desk that sits across the room, littered with disorganized piles of paperwork. He doesn’t take in the bed beneath him, the faded orange sheets or the pile of pillows that lay at its head.

He launches to his feet, balling his hands into fists at his sides, unsteady in every way possible- from his mind to his body, he can’t seem to get a grip.

“COME BACK!!” He shouts, the sound ripping itself from his voice box with a cry of static and exhausted feedback. “FINISH WHAT YOU STARTED!”

Silence greets him, stilling the air with its all-encompassing nothingness.

His vision goes black. Flickers between color and monochrome, light and dark.

“The only thing I want from you is to DIE.”

His head shoves memories into his sightline, taking the place of the reality he had been trying to hold onto. Did he really want to hold onto it? Did he want any of this?

“Are you threatening me, Lunar?”

“STOP IT!!” He shrieks, bringing his hands up to tear violently at his eyes, willing them to either turn off completely, or bring him back to the present.

“I’m not threatening you, a threat implies I won’t do something.”

“STOP!” His voice crackles, ripping out of his voice box so painfully that he can feel the gears grind, feel the mechanisms claw at his throat.

“Take your shot you little bastard.”

“SHUT UP!! SHUT. UP.”

“Take your shot you little bastard.”

“SH-SHU-T THE F-CK-“

“Take your shot.”

“UP!”

He hacks up bits of gear and shrapnel onto the floor, oil oozing out of a hole now torn in his neck.

“Looks like I got more than this one life, huh?”

He slowly sinks down to the ground, knees colliding with the hardwood before the rest of his body follows, chest hitting hard enough to make him whimper. He doesn’t want all these lives. He doesn’t want control anymore, either. In all honesty, he has no idea what he does want, other than some peace and maybe a heated blanket to soothe the agony that pulses through him.

Everyone would say that he deserves this. Deserves to die over, and over, and over again. Deserves the hell he’s getting.

Maybe he does. Maybe that’s true.

Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe that’s false.

Maybe he just doesn’t give a fuck anymore. Maybe he just wants to leave this wretched world and all his mistakes behind him.

He hears the door open. He doesn’t care enough to look.

“When the hell did you get here?”

His better, closing the door and ushering others away. How kind of him.

“You- good grief, you’re a mess!”

I know.

“What happened? Did you come back already?”

I thought we already went over this?

“Can you hear me?”