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practically-an-x-man · 1 month

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Lost in Thought (Nikoletta x Abner)

Summary: In the middle of the night, Abner falls into a painful thought spiral. He's never had someone to help him out of it before, but things aren't the way they used to be

Tags: emotional hurt/comfort, discussion of self-hatred

Word Count: 3.2k

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Nikoletta turned over in the bed, wincing at the light flooding in behind her eyelids. Sunlight? No- it was the middle of the night, the sky was dark, and the light from the street wasn’t enough to have woken her. She forced her eyes open and squinted, looking at the room around her illuminated in a myriad of colors.

Her sleep-dredged mind still hadn’t quite caught up with her. She’d been sleeping surprisingly well, for once not chilled or plagued with nightmares. It was… nice. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so deeply. It must have been years. She had a cat tucked against her arm, the other between her feet, Abner asleep right beside her-

Ah. Right.

“Mm.” she mumbled, fumbling towards the light until her fingers found his shoulder, “Abner. Honey. Dots.”

He stirred immediately at the sound of her voice - even on the best of nights, he wasn’t a particularly heavy sleeper, and this clearly wasn’t the best of nights - and picked himself up from the bed with a low groan. His movements were rough and graceless, half from fatigue and half from the virus eating its way through his body. Abner ran a hand down his face, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes but only grimacing when his fingers found multicolored, swollen skin instead. Seeing him like this, with that look of well-practiced pain held deep in his eyes, cut Nikoletta’s heart every time. Months of this, and it never seemed to get easier.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, glancing down at her with something almost guilty in his eyes. Somehow that was worse than the outright pain. He took a shuffling step towards the door, leaning on the bedpost when his balance faltered. “I’ll be right back.”

He shuffled his way out of the room before Nikoletta could convince her tired brain to come up with any sort of response. She heard the front door swing open with a low creak, and Baron leapt up from the bed to follow the noise. Abner’s low voice carried through the apartment as he shooed the cat away from the door, and then the lock latched behind him.

For as tired as she’d been in the moments before, it was impossible to sleep while she waited for Abner to return. For one thing, it was hard to hold any warmth with him gone, especially with the cats still off investigating the door. For another, she couldn’t get the sound of his voice out of her head - the apology, the way he sounded both so pained and so flooded with that strange guilt.

She was used to the routine by now, him getting up in the middle of the night to release the dots as the virus collected and seethed in his body, but this was different. Normally it was a chore for him, but tonight he seemed more burdened than usual. Was it the fact that the light had woken her? The fact that she’d reminded him instead of waiting for him to get so uncomfortable that he woke himself up? Or was it something else entirely - nightmares or otherwise haunted thoughts as she knew he struggled with?

Nikoletta wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, her heart ached for him.

She heard the door open and shut again just a few minutes later. Something in her jolted at that, a static shock between the ribs, but Nikoletta forced her breathing to remain steady. That was a little remnant from her years in Belle Reve, she was sure. She couldn’t sit with her back to the door, and it always made her flinch to hear an entrance she couldn’t see.

But that tired, shuffling gait was Abner’s, as was the mumbled greeting he gave to the cats when he entered. The tension bled out of Nikoletta’s body in a rush. Even though she knew why he’d left, how long he’d be gone, even if logic told her there was nobody else who could have entered but him… that little ribbon of anxiety was woven in with her nerves. Short of clawing herself completely numb, it would linger with her forever.

Nikoletta shifted on the bed, turning herself over and tucking the duvet around herself as she waited for Abner to join her. Except… he didn’t. She heard him pour himself a glass of water, a routine that was usually followed by him returning to the bedroom and pulling her into his arms, but tonight it was followed by several long minutes of near-silence. Nikoletta frowned to herself, again pushing herself up and rubbing at her eyes.

She wasted only another moment, lamenting the soon-to-be loss of the warmth she’d managed to scrape together here between the sheets, then sighed and slid out of bed. The cheap vinyl carpet was cool and rough under her bare feet.

“Abner? You coming back to bed, hon?” Nikoletta asked, propping herself against the doorway to look him over. He was seated on the end of the couch, hunched over, though he glanced up at the sound of her voice. His eyes were tired, heavily-lidded- at least, more than usual.

“I don’t know.” he sighed, wringing his hands in his lap, “Maybe.”

Nikoletta frowned as she picked her way over to the couch. Baron and Barbie wove between her feet and nearly tripped her. Abner’s dark eyes tracked her with every step, even as she found a spot beside him on the sofa.

“What’s wrong?”

He just shrugged at first, and didn’t say a word. Nikoletta waited in silence, fingers twitching in indecision. She wanted to reach out to him, to take his hand or run her fingers through his hair or tug on his shoulder to kiss his cheek, but she wasn’t sure he’d want that now. After all, he’d pulled away, and he sat hunched in on himself like he wanted to take up the smallest space he could.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up.” he finally said, the words so mumbled they were almost incoherent. Abner curled his fingers against his legs, squeezing until it looked like it hurt. “I don’t mean to be so… so weird and gross and ugly all the time. I’m sorry.”

“Whoa, hey-” Nikoletta started, finally finding the drive to reach for him and draw his hands away from his thighs before he bruised himself. Abner hardly seemed to notice her, his fingers squeezing hers so hard it made her bones creak. She fought down her wince.

She was too tired for this - too tired to think of what to say, what she could do to comfort him, if there was anything she could do to comfort him - and that sent a flash of guilt sparking through her. She wished she could be better for him. She wished she could be better about these quiet moments, when her instinct was to grow cold and pull away herself. She wouldn’t give in to that instinct, but… it would be so much easier not to have that instinct at all.

“I’m just an- an anchor,” Abner kept going, his voice twisted into a low, self-hating mutter, “I’m this weight dragging you down, I’m a drag on your life- you’d be so much happier without me-”

“When did I say that?” Her voice came out too sharp, in her desperation to get a word in before he pressed on, and Abner’s eyes flashed up to hers like he’d been kicked. Nikoletta almost flinched, pierced by another sharp quarrel of guilt, and she swallowed the urge to look away. “Abner, sweetheart- when did I say I’d be happier without you?”

He fought for words for a while, struggling with the logic of it.

“Well- you didn’t, but I-”

“I didn’t.” she repeated, “I didn’t, Abner, because that’s not true. You asked me, back at the hospital, if I wanted to stay with you. And I said yes.”

“That was months ago.”

“And you asked me again before we adopted Baron and Barbie, because pets are a big commitment. You said they’d tether us together, and they’d get sad if we split, so you had to double-check that I wanted to stay with you. I thought it was… sweet.” Nikoletta added, twisting around on the couch to look at him directly. She was finding her words now, getting a rhythm, and maybe she wouldn’t have been able to manage it if it weren’t so late at night. “And you ask me the same thing every time you get sick, or have a nightmare, or sometimes for no reason at all, and I always say the same thing, don’t I?”

He nodded - a sort of loose, low motion that said he didn’t want to let himself believe her, but at the same time he couldn’t find any ground to refute it. His eyes flicked up and down her face, unable to find any steady place to land. It felt like the early days. These little spirals of his always did.

That wasn’t to say she didn’t spiral just as much. Some days went by where she couldn’t bring herself to touch him, so convinced she’d leave a mark like she used to. Sometimes she was too sharp with him, too distant, throwing up those old walls even though she knew he deserved so much better than that. It was almost fair, in a way. And strangely, she almost appreciated when it was his turn - it broke her heart to see him hurt like this, but it reminded her she wasn’t the only one.

“Maybe… maybe you just didn’t want to be alone.” Abner finally said, so softly he was almost whispering, “Maybe I was just… easier?”

“You’re right. I don’t want to be alone.” she admitted, dropping her gaze down to their linked hands, “I… I don’t ever want to be alone again. Not like I was. And maybe- maybe that is part of it. But honestly? I don’t think that really matters much. I’d rather be not-alone with you than not-alone with someone else. It’s not just having another body in the house, y’know, just to take up space, it’s… I like you, Abner. I love you. It’s more than just wanting someone else here with me. I want you here. You’re not replaceable.”

She still wasn’t good with the softer words. She still wasn’t used to it. But… these came out about as well as she could have hoped. Abner’s expression softened, just for a moment, and Nikoletta thought she felt him lean in a little closer. She released her grip on his hands, though only to reach up and brush her fingers through his hair.

“Will you come back to bed?”

“I don’t know.” he mumbled. She couldn’t tell whether he was reacting to the question or what came before it. Abner ducked his head in a way that made her fingers fall away from him. It made something ache within her. For as long as she’d spent shunning all touch, it hurt to be on the other end of it. “I don’t think I deserve to be in bed right now.”

You do, she wanted to say, but she knew that wouldn’t help. It was too… easy. Too open. By now she knew how his mind worked. She needed to give him something harder to brush aside- something that placed it outside himself.

“Well… maybe I deserve to have you with me. Maybe I deserve to be warm, hm? Maybe I deserve to feel safe? You know it’s hard for me to sleep without you next to me.” she tried, “Maybe… it’s not about what you deserve tonight, it’s about what I deserve. Come back to bed. You’ll feel better once you sleep.”

“I don’t want to feel better. It’s not worth feeling better.”

Nikoletta sighed. This was a bad one. And she was running out of things to say. The darker side of her, that cold steel core, wanted just to walk away. She’d tried, given it her fair share of effort, but maybe he just wanted to wallow for a bit. She was already exhausted, and this could go on for hours. He wouldn’t blame her for being selfish, she thought. Not for this.

But she’d blame herself.

“Where are all these thoughts coming from?” she asked, setting her palm on his knee and tilting her head to try and meet his eyes. Abner ducked her gaze with a faint shrug.

“My head, I guess.” he mumbled. Nikoletta knew what he really meant. Those thoughts hadn’t just originated in his mind like he said. She knew who had planted them there, years ago, alongside the virus that racked his body.

“Hm.”

She didn’t say anything more than that, didn’t offer any encouragement or comfort, and she got up from the couch. Abner looked confused, even a little hurt, as Nikoletta slipped back into the bedroom. But she was back only a moment later, with a blanket tucked around her shoulders.

“Well…” she said, sliding back onto the couch beside him and tucking herself against his side, “If you’re not coming back to bed, I might as well keep you company out here.”

She swept the blanket off her shoulders and laid it across both of their laps. Abner’s fingers fiddled at the edge of it, like he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to push it away or not. He ended up leaving it where it was, but there was confusion still drawn into his posture. Nikoletta did her best to ignore it, instead folding her knees under herself and leaning her head into Abner’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know. I want to.” she insisted, “I said I want to stay with you, and that means… I want to stay with you.”

Finally, she could feel some of his tension bleed away, and Abner turned his head to press a firm, chaste kiss to her temple. It still wasn’t perfect, she could still feel the reservations in his posture, the way his hands stayed clasped in his lap instead of drawing her closer, but it was a start.

“How do you see me?” she mumbled, turning her head to look up at him, “Do you see-”

“No.” Abner cut her off, something firm coming into his tone as he said the word. His voice softened a moment later, returning to that gentle hesitance she knew so well from him, “No, I… I see you. I see this… this beautiful woman with black eyes and coily hair, and I’m pretty sure that’s what I’m supposed to be seeing.”

“Mm-hmm.” Nikoletta agreed, nodding faintly against his shoulder. Abner let out a faint breath, something almost relieved, like he’d been halfway worried it was all another hallucination.

“When I say I see her, I don’t…” he sighed after a moment or two of silence, “I don’t mean I really see her all the time. Sometimes I do, when I’m- when I’m stressed, or when there’s a lot of people looking at me, but I… I still know what people look like. But I hear her. In my head. All the time. ‘Abner, you fuck-up, why can’t you do anything right? Get rid of the dots, I don’t want to look at that, nobody’s going to love you if they have to see you like that. Sit down and be quiet, I should never have had a son this useless. Why couldn’t it be you that died instead of your brother?’”

He spoke the words tiredly, distanced by time, but Nikoletta’s breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t find her voice, swallowed and suffocated under so much old grief, but she found herself reaching for his hand and clasping it tightly between both of her own.

She could see now why he’d ended up pulling away. She’d urged him up out of nothing more than concern, knowing the dots made him feel sick and miserable and hating the sight of pain on his face. If there had been anything selfish in it, it was only the fact that the light had woken her. She’d meant it only as a gentle reminder, nothing worse than that.

And he’d heard his mother, shoving him away because she couldn’t stand to look at him.

“Abner…” she murmured, the sound of his name enough to make him glance back down at her, “You’re- you’re not gross. You’re not ugly. You’re not useless, and you are not a fuck-up. I don’t know why she thought she had to tell you those things, but she was wrong.”

She lifted his hand and kissed it, the same gesture she remembered him doing for her after she’d first woken up in the hospital. Nikoletta bit her cheek, urging herself to voice the rest of what was in her head.

“You’re one of the kindest men I’ve ever met,” she managed, and then it was a little easier to continue, “And I mean that. You’re sweet, and you’re smart, and you’re handsome, and I… I’m really glad you’re here with me. You don’t drag me down, you… you make me better. You knew me in Belle Reve. And I’d probably still be there if it weren’t for you.”

There were layers of truth to that. Emotionally and physically. When Waller had assigned her to Corto Maltese, she’d been a hair’s breadth away from slipping into the shadows and disappearing. She’d known the mission was bound to be a death sentence, and she’d known there was nothing Waller could do to keep her there if she chose to escape. She’d never been given a bomb. She’d ducked into the shadows every time they tried, and eventually they just gave up.

But she’d stayed for him. She caught the sidelong glances, the wariness and distrust cast in his direction, even the sheer animosity from the rest of Belle Reve, and she’d worried the mission would just prove an excuse for a very convenient slip in the middle of the night. Waller wouldn’t care. It could all be brushed aside, a mistake, an accident, a hapless casualty. She’d thought even then that he deserved better.

At that point, it had still been a distant sort of want - none of the fervent drive or desperation it would develop into, of course. She’d spoken with him rarely, and she didn’t deny that he was an odd sort of man, but he was still the only person within those walls who’d ever made an effort to reach out to her. If nothing else, she wanted him to make it out of Corto Maltese.

And it led her here: not only alive but warm, happy, safe in a way she’d once barely been able to dream about. It wasn’t a glamorous life, of course, it wasn’t without its share of struggles, but… she’d take these struggles. A hundred times over.

Nikoletta tilted her head to kiss his jaw - about the only place she could reach without stretching - and Abner let out a long, slow breath. Finally his arm snuck around her waist, long fingers splayed across the crest of her hip. Nikoletta shut her eyes, letting her weight rest against his side. She’d spend the night here on the couch, if that’s what it turned to.

“Alright,” Abner mumbled, just as she’d begun to drift off. Nikoletta shifted.

“Hm?”

“We can go back to bed,” he decided, “I’m, um, I’m ready. Thanks, Nik.”

#my writing #my ocs #nikoletta bordeaux #oneshot #angst #emotional hurt/comfort #tw emotional trauma #tw selfhate #angst with a happy ending #the suicide squad #abner krill #polka dot man #oc x canon

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a-weird-writer · 2 years

Note

When you said you could go on and on about Asura and Taishakuten being the worst, did you mean it as in them together or separately? Please elaborate, I would love to hear more about why they are horrible.

Separately. Intentionally, certain things are vague.

Major Warning; Dark themes & yandere tendencies (Every type of emotional manipulation and mental abuse/trauma possible, memory tempering, serial murder. Killing sprees. Detailed descriptions of torture. Inappropriate use of supernatural plants. Mentions of death and torture, psychotic/mind break, abuse of authority. Very graphic.)

Pursing you is Hell, either end.

Honestly you would have theoretically easier-survivable-time if both pinned after you.

Taishakuten and Asura duo strategically. Remorseless as the other is, they act as each other's stress relieve and "panacea" (Literally and figuratively), support pillars; centuries pass the Celestial Relam fighting enemies, trauma and arguing amongst politicians. Ensuring the safety of their respective peoples took a toll; throughout time, they had only each other to dull the hurt. That hurt, that suffocating pain, evolved them into the bigger, stronger lovers you know now.

That doesn't automatically transform them into better individuals, you suppose.

Foes on the field sensed it before they saw it, a force to be reckoned with. Warriors of nature, just waiting to explode on unlucky opposers surrounding them. Back in the day, upon happier days and warmer nights, Asura and Taishakuten were unstoppable.

A fact their lover will realize.

Asura loves dirty work; the blood and carnage, a rush-an ear shattering roar of upcoming victory. The art of war. The proud war god holds his title in strife, prideful ire. The war bringer enraging his veins loves parties, chaotic ones; organs and body parts painting the walls in their gory hues, hanging off the ceiling like colorful streamers and birthday banners. Battles are something Asura looks forward to, the thrill of a worthy fight, no stranger to gory violence. Asura's rampages are a disaster his best friend uses as a potential threat.

Taishakuten is a Celestial King, God beyond heaven. With connections large enough to challenge different realms, defeat lesser gods. An authority figure, proud ruler of Zenken. Just because his body isn't wholly flawless doesn't render his talents any less effective. Sewing hands. His pale fingers sharper than any blade, careful and resourceful. Delicate, long, laced in faint yellow and clean-cutted nails bright silver; Taishakuten can spin plenty of web to trap flies in.

No eye bats to whatever number of people Asura massacres, unfortunates slaughtered like cattle. How much blood is spilled, not a lash falls. It erodes like sea water. Ruby malice drowned in salt, vicious bloodstains, contentless. The Mara's negativity falls with the obsession, for he is eternal damned. Insanity, an abandoned shade returns home. Wounded by betrayal.

The Abyss is empty, but it's cold arms welcome any monster akin to madness.

"Benevolence" suffers pause, the Holy Child takes the Throne with a future in mind. The Celestial King ignores the dreadful cries of his own people-citizens are stolen under the sheet of night; noble sinners thrown in dungeons. The next victims of their god's judgement. Slights against the King are intolerable, traitors to his divine order.

It's easy to cast them aside, to shatter their spiritual entities. His heart ignores their pain, as it should, given it was replaced with a dark and empty mass.

Now is a time for justice.

With the Deca permanently incapacitated and Taishakuten's inevitable tyranny peering over the horizon, the golden arches pay no mind to the violent misdeeds of the Abyss Prison's dictator.

Not a single member nor loyal guard would ever help you regardless of how much they may want too, their pitiful eyes won't shed a tear for the perished nor you, the god's prisoner lover. In court, none dare mourn a traitor in Taishakuten's Palace of purity and obedience, alas their lives turn forfeit; empty puppets, empathy vanish to the winds of the north. Afraid to talk out of turn, speak up-bowing to the gold strings of the Celestial King.

Rely on only yourself to defend and justify your actions, Hell awaits those you act selfless to. Your kindness is flattering, Taishakuten is oddly moved by it, but it will hurt more people in the long run if you refuse to keep it to yourself. Everyone loyal to the Palace will pick the most selfish decision to promise their continued flourishment, to raise with the sun another tomorrow. As should you as well.

The carnage is beneficial, not to mention well-deserved on the Deca's part. Your safety is at upmost important, and the merging of the Celestials and the mortal world is eventual. As so is your loyalty, which shall follow suit in due time. To his conquest, wed by fate. And Taishakuten mastered the art of patience,

as did Asura.

Their main intentions for the realms may be peaceful-though both differ an approach-the opposing lovers inspire fear with their insane methods. Arrogant like all rulers, such bliss.

While Asura erases competition, Taishakuten tends to his Throne. The meritocracy molded with noble flesh and blood. Various royal affairs, further excuse to blow his eventual hero-his Asura-off without a hitch. As Celestial King, daily responsibility and duty stack on his dinner plate. Managing citizens, overseeing cities, skillfully weaving society. Choosing the right loom proves difficult but efficient.

Taishakuten developed sharp eyes for lairs and deceivers; over the years, his useful insightfulness provokes scholars and gods alike. Strength beyond what the Deca thought physically possible, primed in wits and wisdom. He has a job to fulfill, a priority of ensuring his lover stays clear of harm and out of the picture in his future plans for the realms.

Can detect the slightest change of self-conscious, the emotions behind it and can convince you otherwise in what you may believe. His word is law, defy him and face worse than death. His light freezes, fixing his victim with an unwavering stare, unamused and ever composed. Strung up like a puppet for his display case, addressing not his court but you, specfically you.

Perfect lines, solid ends, this friend of yours-this rebellious sinner hangs loose of a bright formless noose. A shell of their former self.

Your King's signature lotuses, well-known throughout his man-made paradise, overgrow your friend's body everywhere they can see and touch. Whatever is left of them, the flowers took.

By the petals excitedly spouting in every nook and carny in their brittle bones bright and smiling. Bond limbs cover their poor sights like a blindfold. Their nerves and veins forcefully enticed with the golden lotuses, hailed in every color of the sun, hollowly dancing with the stem's strings. But they might as well be crossing over to the other side, dying in the world's gaze. Mouth opens to voice a silent scream in pure agony, the air in their lungs raspy, eyes hold a forbidden darkness. Distant. But no one blind can tell the pitiful ray of life still runs violently underneath their soul, a soiled sheet of flesh and pain.

A statement. A warning.

Their silence is a heavy constant upon your sanity, and they will never feel the sweet release of death. You can only imagine the type of pain they were subjected to. Hung in a tomb forever, forgotten, collecting dust till only the lotuses remain.

(You suppose in a way, it would be best to forget-)

Your reasoning sliced like paper, falling on empty ears and zipped mouths; the abrupt arrest of your friend, everything they stood for was treason against Zenken. Taishakuten isn't a messy simpleton, he rids the world of whom seeking to destroy it.

You dare question his superiority?

He-who housed you. He feed you, secured your place within the beautiful walls of his Palace as Asura fell into the madness of his upbringing. While all else turned you away, spat on the ground you walked on like the weaklings they are.

Offering countless words of comfort, luxury dreams, gracing your presence with the sheer audacity of his unparallel beauty. Taishakuten gave everything he could to ensure your joy and maintain your love for his world.

When you rained tears, he was there to clean them with such pretty porcelain fingers. Washing your sorrows to even bear the pain himself. He lost count of how many times he and his lotuses held you-nursed your health and soul as you lost yourself to the Deca's cruelty. No one ever said the Celestials ever had easy times to bear.

You wept and screamed bloody murder, but he was there.

Always there.

(Was it not good enough for you? He gave up everything in order to restore peace to these lands, to unite the realms for the paradise you all strife to achieve. And all you can think about is being an entitled brat.)

You offend him-accuse him when he killed no one that you know of. You're a fool to submit to the weaker masses, to inferior lacking ideals. Are you so easily swayed by their merger protests?

You can't see it, of course not, only expected of you. Your judgement is clouded, but he knows what hes looking at. You'd leave your poor friends behind? Picking up your broken pieces? Them, compared to all else? That's Taishakuten personal right.

The Kings brutally eliminate those that dare threaten them, shooting "mistakes" down. Underlings must remain loyal to their destined kingdoms, any less is unacceptable. Carefully manipulating any dire situation, twisting it in their favor, however long it takes for desirable conclusions. Sacrifices move the gods. Whether shikigami or human, with enough time and energy, they both can potentially overrun any foe. Steal every advantage and kill every weakness seen, taking everything off the plate. While both slaughter without question, they try being reasonable. You are no traitor, what lovers are they if not generous? Not the good kind for sure. If your submissive and obedient, your relationship will be pretty enjoyable, decent even. Cooperation is sincerely valued.

You will earn the honor of their presence, a badge for good behavior, sooner than later. Given gifts no mortal could buy lonesome. Presents for an early Christmas, you are above peasant items. Your favorite dishes and cute antiques. You will shower in praise, wet with compliments; you will see more and more freedom as long as you stay behind them, know your place.

It's all a plan, bringing the haughty Deca and other traitors justice. Dignity and justice always prevail. The war with the Abyss is just an obstacle, a mere dispute. Friends fight, lovers quarrel, a King must eventually defend his castle. Willing to perish for his walls and citizens, die for the kingdom.

Asura and Taishakuten are still only men, wanting you to love them as they do you; returning their love, trust and keeping it will benefit you greatly, many fond rewards and privileges. You're important to them, just as the best friends are to each other. Time heals all wounds, covers scars and cuts. Through any crisis, they will walk through the fires of hell to ensure you still belong to them. Sacrifice anyone for your happiness.

Perhaps, your life will be normal again.

It will.

Home is where the heart is, and your lovers hold it, jailed tightly by bars in their stained hands.

Go against them, however, prove disloyal...Sense you may betray them, things will get messy, till both are satisfied and finally get what they desire there won't be a cake walk in store for you. Asura is no fool, he will eventually find out if you have any malicious ideas. No one digs up demons faster than Asura can, whatever you hide, he will bring it out to light. Where your judgement will be cast. Kings manage their courts, the punishment planned will be agonizing. But they won't be as mad as you will be when your mind begins to split apart. Torn between reality and imagination, madness and sanity, picked bit by bit. Razor strings pull harder and harder, in your mind and in your body.

You deserve it for agruing over minor things.

A demon's love is powerful, dangerous. Their methods traumatize, paralyzing fear in you. Death is better than what they put you through. Your torture isn't their fault, you knew the rules, but you went over the line. Had to have the last word.

It will be better; you could have them at your beck and call if you only listen, be the kind and obedient lover like they know you can be. Giving to your lovers-your gods-is all you care about, but it pisses them off that you don't look their way when they try to appease you right back. You don't say 'thank you' to anything they do for you, all the things they did to free your home.

They know much more than everyone else, what hell and heaven is like. Be responsible, face the music, the consequences of your actions. Time and time again in the past, hurting others was no chore for them. Nor will hurting you be one. Sometimes you have to hurt the one you love to protect them.

If it hurts them more then it hurts you, why are you the only one screaming?

A few broken bones won't be life threatening for you, or for others. If eyes need to be picked out, or if Asura needs to cut someone to itty bitty pieces then so be it.

You reap what you sow. Give pain, get pain. Nothing eases, the Celestials never worry for time, and the Kings are eager to show just how dedicated they are to their beloved and to their goals. Murder is not off the books of things they will do to get you to do as you're told, killing is an interesting hobby for Asura and the Celestial King massacred his own royal court many times. It's for the best, it is all for your health and wellness. The well-being of their nation.

Your blind, but flaws are what makes people perfect. Your Kings are the definition of faulty, but you adored them anyway. Embraced them, loved your gods as dearly as their loyal devotees, despite their tragedies and the scars of their karma. They are broken gods, Kings with cracked crowns, never sorry. But the value of their promises weights mountains. There is compromise when it comes to you, living for your love, placing you into line. They promised you their love will last forever, no matter what, even if the world is against them, you will never be abandoned.

Not under your Kings's watchful gaze.

Innocent lives are used as tools to force you on your knees, daily if need be. Hung right in front of your door, unwashed from your nightmares, the guards refuse to look in your direction. As they should, if they wish to keep their pitiful lives. Asura sneers in distain and sadistic delight, leave you begging and Taishakuten has you rotting, drained of tears, soaked in blood that isn't all yours. Proving how hypocritical he truly is behind his golden gates, their true intentions revealed on a silver platter, not guilty.

It's but a mask, hurting you is no fun. There is no true joy in it, shared between them, all they could ever want is your devoted gaze. Underneath are beings that long for love, suffocating their selfishness and loneliness. They long for their other half, and they long for you. It's all a part of a plan, everything is a part of a bigger plan.

They don't want to break you, but you won't the same, you will crack and crumble, yes, but they will mold you back together in no time. When an old tree dies a new one grows, a new awakening. You will be whole again, the paradise they all dream of is closer than you think, a few leaves just need to be snipped.

Still trees have blood, all things bleed, its ok to hurt sometimes.

It can be bearable. You can bear it for them. You have many times, in and out of yourself. You recall how much the flowers give as much as they take, but they all still look glorious as ever, his ugliness concealed on the surface, hiding you from the worse world.

The pain will be tucked away soon, you have to be patient, the emptiness is temporary. Even in the Abyss. They waited for you and now you will wait for them. It's the least you could do, after everything that happened, you will make it up to them somehow, you're so weak.

Asura will take the pain away, as he always does. It's like it was never there in the first place, a fierce wind passing over you. Taishakuten will fill the holes with honeyed words and sweet kindness; his light, with as many beautiful lotuses, fills the shimmering garden you could never tire of watching, counting the King's petals like you did the immortal stars in the sky.

You never realized how easily you could be plucked, just like lotuses. But that is how humans are, weak. Beneath the Gods, powerless and working their pitiful lives to brittle bones.

You're so fragile. Had you always been this breakable?

You hurt them after all, it's only right that you had to retrieve back the pain tenfold.

What is pain but a lesson? It's what your god's taught you, beaten into you till blackness swallowed your eyes. If you hurt another you must expect to be hurt back. What goes around comes around, the cruel circle of life, natural order and karma.

If you kill someone expect to die as well.

Wait.

Wait for them, they will come back for you, they have too, no one abandons the one they love. Not truly, not when they promised you.

Asura came back for Taishakuten, in turn, he came back for him. Even when Asura's original body was breaking down, his spiritual entity remained. And he came back, back to the light he longs for. Like they knew they would, always together. Opposing opposites attracted, yin-yang. Their true bodies can't actually die, not as human ones do. Like yours. No man he loved greater than him and loved no one greater than you; now it's your turn.

Soon, it's your turn. They will reach you in your prison of countless broken parts and tiny white lies, benevolent for tolerating you.

Peace comes sooner or later, then they will take you for a grand tour of their paradise, lost in bliss and sweetness. Air fresher than ever before, no smoke or bloodshed. No fire or hatred. You will sit with them on their mighty Thrones, laughing and sharing tales of old. Taking breaks for picnics and sightseeing. Forever with them.

You missed the old times. So did they. Reminiscing about the fluttering butterflies, beats of bird wings matching the falling leaves. How incredible the palace looked setting with the Sun, fields of glory and history. The war changed everything, turned your beloveds against each other in a black and white game of chess.

You want it to end already. You're tired.

You deserve to share their dream, a haven from the forsaken war they sacrificed so much to end; you were here for them when it was all beginning, when the Deca tried to string up one of your lovers from his deserted home, covered in blood that he never stopped trying to wash from his rough hands, you guided him through the miles of disgusted people, helped him climb up into power and resist the corrupt system that always suppressed him. You smile at him the way only his mother did.

Despite the hatred the world shows him, never once he looked down because of it, he refused to give his abusers such satisfaction. Never gave in so easily. You once were the same, now you can only look up when they came.

A lotus flower wilts, dying from a weak root. A purified body ashore, wishes on its final seed to unify. A singular flower, supported by god's invisible hands, climbs to the skies. Knotting in his enteral stem. A youthful stem that touches the heavens, freed of the suffering from mere mortals and gods, higher than destruction may reach.

Wait.

All things come with a price and no price is too high, no stem could grow tall enough. You know that personally, its engraved in your brain, your heart remembers home.

The beating of a heart, a drum, echoes in your ears. Yours quickens with it; the water moves to the rhythm, dancing in sparkling moonlight. The flowers speak a language you can't understand. The petals aren't how they usually look. Painted in color you swear is-

Its slipping, and the submerged body is bathing. Skin so pale it seems dead, marble white like a roman statue. Why are you slipping? You weren't even on a floor, unless air counts.

The pool is covered in even more corrupted petals, it doesn't make sense. The water waves, then it flows. It washes your feet, then your hips, it keeps reaching and you're still slipping. The thumping gets unbearable, rings in your ears, loud caroling bells. You can bear it though.

You can bear it. Its because of what you did, all the things you have done.

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You wiggle, laughable, you try to swim but you hardly move. You don't feel anything; your scream carries no voice, no sound in the endless valley of aqua. No sound as you slip inside the Abyss, only the self travels.

The water carries the lotuses, effortlessly, raises them above the masses, none of them connect to your skin, like your below them, not good enough to be graced with their forbidden touch. But you aren't, right? Your skin is dirty. You've been very bad this lovely night, it was going to be beautiful, but you ruined it.

The flowers of a 2-faced King bathes in a taint twistedness, his face is unreadable, hidden by the petals, by the light brought by a sudden tear. You hurt but at the same time there is nothing.

Nothing but the pressure of a brightening rip, the only visible thing in the blurs of wet mixed colors. The water molds to its shape, disfigured droplets, is it raining or are you just sweating?

The tear is leaflets and more god damn petals, fading into a light that just isn't right. It's so bright, you still see it clear as a mirror, captivating. The flowers are making you sick, their gold stems hold small faces of your family, your family is looking for you. A flash then more visions. Ashamed they can't seem to see you, but you see them. You see all of them, they look worried, they lost someone. Surely not you?

Who are they again? They're your family, your flesh and blood. But are they?

Memories are fading, you can't see your past, your childhood. You're not sure it's you, not totally. Its brushing along the currents, breaking from your fingertips like glass, happily spinning to the beats of the music. A gold light is eating them, deep in the blinding floret tear, overgrowth.

Even more petals, even more lotuses that are the most familiar of everything, even more nothingness.

So many broken petals, lively, littering everywhere in what little eye room you have left. Just so much more.

People are swimming away from you in the pools, washing them away from your skin, they disappear. One by one they vanish within the waters, abandoned amongst the golden lotuses. Lost in the garden, forgotten by the Abyss.

No! You can't forget them! They are all you have left; they took everything from you, you loved them! Give them back! You never wanted-

You want to vomit.

Spreading like a virus, burning just as violently. You can't forget, you twist and can't turn,

You can only watch the gloomy waters, gentle as the rain, proud as the raging storm.

Lotuses grow on all that matters, all that used to matter. Leaves cover their saddened eyes, devouring roots, eating everything you love,

everything you used to love.

The thread is tighter, the light overtakes; it was supposed make you see but it doesn't. You can't move, all you do is tremble. Before your gods there is nothing else, what is pain but a lesson we all have to learn?

The water raptures, the clean dispirited. An endless red and ocean of black grows, thorny leaves and ashen bones, flooding. A darkness, black famished evergreen so familiar. Is it worth remembering anymore?

Water touches your neck, no pressure yet it chokes. Then your mouth, kissing you, black bubbles prove you still breathe, then lastly your eyes. The light perishes, the body merged with surrounding dark, the pale King is gone.

The tear is gone, the petals vanish with the surface, never saying goodbye. Nothing replaces it.

Only you, alone. In a sea of empty, devoid of any life. Dark and black, it swallows you whole in one bite. Your sight floods, you're going under, yet your alive. Finally, you swim. But not as you're supposed to.

The Abyss is huge, you sink further in the depths thanks to an invisible anchor, deeper then all else.

The flowers ate you; the water drowned you and now the Abyss stole you. All there is in the end is an abyss, an empty corner. Bringer of terror, limitless nothing. There always was.

The Abyss looks at you and your soul-it has no choice-stares right back, consuming youR-

What are you so worried about? What have you to fear with your beloveds? Your Kings by your side?

You don't worry about your troubles anymore, it's their job to worry, not yours. They are Kings, close as can be to each other and to you, you are all a part of a single whole. You need each other, it's your story, your happy ending is being read. You want a happy ending, you've always wanted one, like a fairytale.

But now, they aren't by your side. You've been bad, they didn't like that. You have to suffer, be hanged from the thread that binded you, you hate how deeply it imprints themselves on your delicate flesh. But its ok, the guilt beats it by far. You have to wait; weeping won't make them come faster; weeping makes the world slower and sadder, tiring how awful the world looks.

Wait.

It won't take long, you had worse. The past proves that. Just until they are reassured you will continue to bound yourself to their domain, your obedience tied to them and them alone.

Begging, pleading to your lovers for forgiveness. And they will forgive you, it's a promise. They always keep their promises unlike you.

Eventually.

Just wait.

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