Chapter Text
Xavier can’t breathe. Xavier can’t breathe and even trying burns; not for any over abundance of oxygen - though there’s no ventilator on his face, whatever small room Xisuma’s brought him too is filled with the frigid, familiar air of the End - but because he can’t get enough.
Breathing is the first, steady step of an ordered world, and Xavier’s never been so far from that ideal as he is right now. He doesn’t know what to do; memories swirl through his code like a hurricane, fighting for a fraction of the focus he can’t afford to give them. Though the chaos seems to be receding - thank fuck - all that really leaves him is rubble, and his panic only worsens when the ebbing tide leaves Xavier effectively abandoned in the wreckage of his own mind.
Oddly enough, it’s Bee who comes to the forefront - and how the fuck had he forgotten Bee; in what universe is his sort-of-sister relevant to any of the memories he’d asked them to block out - and her voice carries in the chaos, (“Can you tell me five things you can see?”)
Xisuma sat opposite him, his eyes large and worried. The glow of the setting sun filtering through the windows and the thin layer of dust it highlights; each dustbunny is backlit as if it were the most important thing in the world.
It’s later than Xavier thinks it should be, if the sun is indeed setting; last he remembers, it was early afternoon. Though, last he remembers they were in the middle of a field out by False, so maybe he shouldn’t put so much stock in his memory. Now, they seem to be in Xisuma’s base, in a room that doesn’t seem like it’s seen use in some time. An attic, perhaps, that X had abandoned halfway through decorating - not that it matters. It’s well-lit, and isolated, and enclosed enough to be safe without being claustrophobic.
It’s really, really well lit. The torches are the fourth thing Xavier notes, and honestly he’s shocked it wasn’t the first. They absolutely cover the walls, burning away happily in the background as if there weren’t at least seven flashlights scattered across the floor, as if there was any need for extra light at all. The few shadows in here are fighting for their life.
One more thing he can see, uh- Xisuma’s shoes. The laces are undone. On both of them. He’d tell his brother, but his voice is being annoyingly uncooperative at the present moment.
(“Four things you can feel, okay? Can you do that for me?)
The floor beneath him; the wall behind him. Xisuma’s hands in his, applying just enough pressure to keep him grounded. The sting of a light bruise on his thigh.
(“Three things you can hear. You’re doing so, so well.”)
The speed of his own breath. ‘Suma, humming Bee’s lullaby. The wind whistling through an open window.
(“Two things you can smell?”)
The stench of vomit, on his brother’s discarded jumper. The grass stains on his jeans.
(“And one thing you can taste?”)
The last of his tears, slipping down his face; he licks it from his lips automatically.
(“Well done. I know that was really hard, okay? Well done. Are you with me?”)
“Hey, Xav. Are you with me?”
Xavier forcibly uncurls himself from the corner, trying to focus on his brother rather than the various light sources scattered around the room, “I- I think? What- what happened?”
“I- Keralis. Keralis happened. He means well, he really does, but when his magic collided with whatever the admins did to your head- every memory block you’ve ever been given got ripped away. I’m sorry.”
That… makes some sense, Xavier supposes. Certainly explains why his brain feels like it’s been run through a cheesegrater. Wait, Keralis? Fuck, did he- “Is Keralis-?”
He can't bring himself to finish the sentence, but thankfully Xisuma gets there on his own, “Keralis is fine! He’s okay! Look, if you were going to stab anyone with a NR-knife, I’d rather it be Keralis. He’ll be fine; in two to three days he’ll crawl back out of the Void with enough strength to reconstitute his body.”
“I stabbed him with a Non-Respawnable?!”
“...uh… maybe? But he’s fine. Though, uh, I have stolen that particular knife from you. Also all three guns.”
Torn between the relief he hadn’t murdered Xisuma’s best friend and the urge to make a sarcastic comment about Xisuma constantly stealing his shit, Xavier ends up compromising somewhat, “Keep it. Ugh, my brain feels like it’s been fucking shredded.”
“I’m not surprised. You’ve been out of it for… a while.”
“You’re going to let me have fuck? Damn, it must have been bad.”
“After that? Xav, I think even Bee would have let you have that one.”
Xavier smiles, and then immediately drops it as he realises that Xisuma left three or so years before the thing had happened, which means that Xavier’s going to have to tell him. Shit. Fuck. How- how? Um? Okay, okay. Think. This is fine, he’s got this, he’s got this- “Bee’s dead, by the way.”
(Shit, Shit, Shit, Shit, Shit-)
“I…know?”
“The fuck you mean, you know?”
“Why do you think I haven’t asked? You wouldn’t be here if-” he stops then, a thought occurring to him, “Or- well, I guess, if you didn’t mean to come-”
“It’s not that I- ‘Suma, I thought reconnecting the echo would kill you.”
“Oh. That’s… wait, no, that doesn’t at all explain why you wouldn’t come with me! That explains nothing!”
“I don’t have an explanation. I just. I know what I’m good at, okay? And that’s war. And I know what you’re not good at.”
Xisuma sighs, and looks away and up at the roof, “Bee- Bee didn’t know, right? That you weren’t dead? That you were lying?”
“Oh, no- she’d have never agreed to- she was fucking pissed at me, when I got back.”
“I can imagine,” X laughs, a little choked through his own grief. He sniffles, then, after a short pause, asks the question Xavier’s waiting for, “…How did she die?”
“Air raid. They- they have bombs that are Non-Respawnables now, you know? Bloody terrifying, because most of them aren’t, but every time you get knocked down you have to lie there and just pray you’ll respawn. And if you see the person next to you bleed out and their body’s still there afterwards- I think I just accepted death at that point.”
There’s a moment where Xisuma just stops, tears reforming in his eyes; finally, he manages a slightly horrified nod, “Well, that’s- that’s the most horrifying-” he pauses then, clearly considering, “that’s the most horrifying - shit - I’ve ever heard in my life.”
Xavier stares at him, and then blinks, and then blinks again, and then he throws his head back and laughs. “It was! It really, really was. I- I’ve never been so sure I was going to die. Usually everything’s so fast, so panicked, and nope; the closest I ever get to dying is four hours of bleeding out on the floor, wondering if anyone would find me in time.”
“And I’d have never even known.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry, ‘Suma. I’m really, really sorry.
“I just- why? I know, I know, that you’d be as wrecked if I died as I was when you- when I thought you did! So why, why, would you assume that I’d be fine?!”
There’s a moment where Xavier honestly doesn’t know what to say, because he’d kind of assumed that was, you know, fucking obvious. He forgets just how clueless his twin can be, sometimes. “Because you’re worth caring about, dumbass. Feels like that should be self explanatory?”
“...what?”
“What do you mean, what?”
“What do I- Xavier. Xavier. You- you know I love you, right?”
“And that’s enough, is it? It’s not, X. That’s just how the universe works. That’s just how we work. Anything that was meant to be good in me ended up in you; anything wrong with you became part of me. Of course you love me. You never had a choice.”
Xisuma… doesn’t respond. He doesn’t agree, or disagree, he just sits there and fumbles for words until he can’t anymore, until they’re both left to sit in the weight of Xavier’s words. Xavier hates it. Hates the way he’s forced to hear his words echo in the silent room, and then again in his head: a truth they’ve both known to be true for a very long time, and neither have ever had the courage to say aloud. A truth his recovered memories only prove.
When Xisuma finally does manage to pull himself together, he speaks almost in a whisper, “Don’t. Please.”
“D- Don’t?”
“Don’t do this. Don’t pretend I’m perfect. It hurts. You put me on this… pedestal, like it’s a way to apologise, or to fix things. Because if you have to recognise I have flaws then you have to reckon with the good parts of yourself. You’re not half a person, Xavier, anymore than I am. And there is no part of you that could ever be unworthy of love.”
“Yeah, right. You admitted it yourself - the only way I’ll stop hurting you is when I die. I’m not exactly a safe person to love, X. So maybe you should stop trying.”
“Love isn’t safe. Love is taking the most vulnerable part of yourself and letting it walk into the firing line, because whoever you’ve given that piece of your heart to will get hurt. They’ll get hurt, and they’ll probably hurt you, and maybe you’ll hurt them too.”
“Love is deciding there are people worth risking that for.”
Xavier stares, for a second, but the speech is nowhere as unbalancing as the fact that Xavier might just believe it. He breathes, as best as he can, and then responds the only way he knows how, “Sap,” he manages, though he does have to swallow back tears. It doesn’t feel enough; it doesn’t feel even close to enough, so Xavier forces himself to be sincere for once in his life. “Love you too, ‘Suma. Even if you decided the best way to fix a panic attack is to teleport us into your attic with several different light sources.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry- I panicked, and I didn’t know what to do! But- we can go outside, if you want. Or even upstairs; the roof entrance is just next door-”
Still trying (and failing) to pull himself together, Xavier manages a watery laugh, “Please? This place stinks of vomit. No offence.”
Xisuma helps him up, and generously doesn’t mention that Xavier had been the one to throw up on him, which Xavier’s exceedingly grateful for. He doesn’t want to face that right now, so he follows his brother instead as he leads him up onto the roof. The warm air of early evening washes over them, as they duck outside; there aren’t many flat spots - a flaw in the design on Xavier’s part - and especially not any near them, so they orient themselves on some of the steep tile instead. Xavier leans against his brother, as they sit down, and stares up at t the first star of the night, “This place isn’t too bad, you know.”
“Isn’t it amazing?”
“Yeah. Yeah, it is. Only you, ‘Suma. Only you could create somewhere this is insane, and this- caring? Is that the right word? Everything here is incredible, everyone here seems completely unhinged, and I just- It’s- You would have been a terrible admin, at home, and I am sorry, I really, really am, that I did what I did- but this is what you were meant to do, you know.”
His brother smiles at him, and looks on the verge of tears, and Xavier- it’s not backtracking, not exactly, but he throws some sarcasm in at the end for safekeeping, “The moon’s way too big for the sky, though.”
“Huh.” Xisuma looks away, at that, and squints upwards, “Is it normally that big?”
“The fuck- what are you asking me for?”
He smiles, “I should probably check on that.”
“Tomorrow, right?” Xavier asks.
“Tomorrow.”
Because there are things to spend tonight doing, and none of them involve Xisuma’s admin console; the two of them stay there for a very long time, sat on the sloped roof of a drawing they’d done when they were ten, leaning on each other in the light of the earliest of the evening’s scattered stars. And Xavier lets himself hold, for a moment, the idea of a universe that can love.
And he decides that maybe - just maybe - there are parts of the universe worth loving back.