Chapter Text
It was quiet and dark when Goji woke up. His head was pounding like it always did after a concussion, but it was bearable in the darkness. His body felt bruised and sore, like he’d just climbed into a washing machine and turned the settings on to ‘beat to death’. His shoulder and back hurt like someone had dropped a boulder on him.
There was some sort of odd fog floating over his brain, and he felt strangely warmer than he should’ve. Dried dirt had clumped grossly between the gaps of his scales, and when he ran a finger down his neck, a little crumbled off, leaving a crusty, miserable residue.
The storm, he remembered. He blinked slowly, taking in the surroundings of the bedroom. Why am I in the bottom bunk? His bed was the top.
The door opened quietly, and Monkey entered, holding what smelled to be some sort of unholy burned chocolate concoction.
“About time you woke up,” he said when he noticed Godzilla’s eyes open. “You good, G?”
“Mm,” Goji hummed disagreeably, pressing his left talon to his temple in an attempt to rub away the headache. That was about when he noticed how badly his hands were shaking, and hurriedly folded them into his lap, sitting up fully.
“Noodle-Neck said you got hit with some debris on your way back,” Monkey informed him unsympathetically, sliding the mug onto the mattress. “What’d you do, fight the storm?” The tone was only half-joking, but Godzilla wasn’t at the mental capacity to try puzzling out how one would go about physically fighting a literal storm.
Goji felt wrongfooted. He didn’t touch the hot chocolate. Chances were, if he reached for it, he’d probably knock it over. “I think I should probably talk to them,” Goji muttered. “Are they in the garage?”
“I think so,” Monkey said oh so helpfully. “He seemed a little upset. What happened out there?”
Godzilla shrugged and bit his lower lip. “I’m not sure,” he replied. Not a truth, not a lie. There was an odd gap in his head between the past and reality that was messing with his head, too much to poke at at the moment.
“No hot chocolate?” Monkey prodded, pushing it towards him.
Goji pressed his hands together firmly. “You burned it,” he accused. “How do you burn hot chocolate, Monkey?”
Monkey threw his hands up. “I try to do one nice thing for you-”
“Only because I was literally unconscious!”
“One nice thing, Triangle!”
Godzilla did not wince at the volume, but gestured for Monkey to lower his voice. “Concussion, remember?” he reminded sharply.
“What’s with your hands?” Monkey asked curiously, and Goji hastily tucked the hand he’d waved back into his lap.
Monkey gave him an unimpressed look, grabbed his arm, and splayed Godzilla’s palm out so he could see the very obvious shake to them.
Goji immediately yanked them back. “There’s nothing wrong with my hands,” he snapped.
Monkey didn’t even seem to notice his tone. “Well, that’s… interesting,” he commented. Then he glanced over at the mug. “Oh. Ohhh. That’s why- we should get you a sippy cup.”
“Excuse me?”
Monkey grinned at him. “A sippy cup. So if you drop it, it won’t spill.”
“Your genius solution for this is to give me something toddlers use,” Goji protested, rubbing his forehead again like it could ease the headache, since talking with Monkey only seemed to be making it worse.
“Well, if it works, it works, right?”
Goji glared at him. “...I hate you. I hate you so much.”
Monkey laughed too loudly.
“Oh, shut up,” Godzilla snapped, reaching over to punch the ape in the shoulder. “I need to find Noodle-Neck.”
Monkey sobered almost instantly, which told Goji more than he needed to know. “I wasn’t kidding, G, they seemed pretty upset. You sure you don’t remember?”
Godzilla shrugged unhappily, and Monkey rolled his eyes. “Great. That seems like a fun conversation for you two. Leave me out of it.”
Goji wished he had the ability to roll his own eyes in a way that was visible. “You aren’t involved in this one.”
“Oh, so you do know what happened,” Monkey surmised, crossing his arms. “Thanks, Triangle. Great to know you like lying straight to my face.”
This had not been the direction Godzilla wanted this conversation to go. “Well, you’re the one who said you didn’t want to get involved.”
Monkey threw his arms up in obvious frustration. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to know what’s going on!”
“Well. If it was something worth knowing, I’d tell you.”
“He’s pretty upset. Seems worth knowing.”
Godzilla sighed, more tired than annoyed, and he really didn’t want to get into a fight right now. “I just need to talk to them first, Monkey.”
I just need to figure out what I did.
Ghidorah was working on MechaG when Goji poked his head into the garage. There were bandages wrapped around Ichi’s neck, matching the ones around their left wrist, and Ni’s wing was burned at the tip.
Godzilla knocked on the door and let himself in. “Hi-”
Ichi slammed their wrench on the table without turning to look at him, and MechaG creaked in alarm. “No.”
Okay, so he’s definitely upset.
Dang. He hadn’t even gotten to speak for five seconds. “What?”
Ichi turned around, eyes ice cold. “You know what your problem is, Godzilla?” The dragon took a step forward.
Goji stayed rooted to the spot. This isn’t going to be good. He could recognize the anger in Ghidorah’s eyes- he’d seen it a thousand times before.
“What did I do?” he asked, more worried than curious. “Did I do that?”
“What do you think?” Ichi spat coldly, ears pressed flat against his head. Ni tucked his wing over his head, not meeting Goji’s eyes. “We tried to help you, you know!”
“...Help with what, exactly? What happened to you?”
“You attacked us!” Ichi accused with a glare. “And then you fell off a cliff, because you know what, Godzilla? You have issues.”
I did what?
“I attacked you?” Godzilla clarified.
Ichi didn’t pause to explain. “You build and build this stupid wall you think works when all it ever does is hurt people!”
“I didn’t-”
Ghidorah didn’t even let Goji defend himself, and walked forward until Ichi’s face was even with Goji’s. “You do that to yourself, because stars forbid you bother trying to work through it-”
The defensive anger blooming in Godzilla’s chest rose to a boiling point. “Like you’re any better! You pretend to care, but you don’t, because you’re just like Mowcuss! All you ever wanted was to destroy everything! You know what, I bet you were happy-”
“Don’t you dare finish that-”
Goji shoved him backwards. “What, afraid to admit it? Afraid to admit you’re just like him?”
“Oh, take the moral high ground, why don’t you!” Ichi fired back.
“Guys, c’mon,” Ni pleaded, voice trying to be peaceful but too shaky to hold water.
Goji and Ichi didn’t even bother pretending to hear.
“You’re blind to yourself, Goji! You left Monkey to go after Mechakong- and even now, you won’t dare use Mothra as an excuse because you know she would’ve hated that!”
“Get her name out of your mouth,” Goji spat back.
Ichi let out a frenzied, high pitched laugh. “What, can’t even say her name? Why, does it mean admitting she’s gone? She’s dead, Goji, and she’s not coming back like she always does, because our world is gone, and let’s face it: the only one who can’t accept it is you!”
“Ichi!” Ni protested, lifting his wing off his head. “Too far!”
Godzilla’s mouth clicked shut.
Ichi ignored the other head. “And what’s better- you won’t dare say her name because she would’ve hated you-”
“Stop right now,” Goji hissed.
“You shouldn’t be around any of us if you can’t handle your own trauma, because all you do is lash out and hurt everyone else because you’re selfish and that’ll never change.”
There was a moment where Goji couldn’t breathe, couldn’t find his voice at all. And then in the next, because Godzilla had always been the one to dig his own grave, he asked, “Did I fall or was I pushed?”
Ichi’s face went blank. “Get. Out.”
Goji couldn’t find the words to apologize, and after a moment, turned and walked out, slamming his shoulder into Monkey’s on the way with a snapped “Move.” His friend jumped out of his way with a wounded look Godzilla barely registered as he walked out the door and into the cold.