Chapter Text
Kobra never chose to turn into a helpless child in a body far too big. When he got overwhelmed he distracted himself or went to Party, or Jet, or Ghoul. He’d had a system with Party to reality check since he was ten. He could take care of himself more often than not. By no means should his brain feel the need to change in such a violating way, simultaneously making him relive the fear of growing up in the City and tainting what little nostalgia he had left.
The first time it happened, it was like he’d been locked out of his own mind. He could register that it was Jet and Ghoul in front of him, and that they were safe, dammit, but in his state he panicked at the sight of unfamiliar people and hid under a booth. And when Ghoul brought Party in, Kobra couldn’t quite recognize them. He’d forgotten his own brother and treated them like a threat. He fought himself for what felt like an entire lifetime before the fear faded and he could return to himself. His crew looked so nervous and unsure around him afterwards; their lives had shifted now, pushing around to make room for this new thing.
You’re causing problems again, he’d thought. It’s getting harder to take care of you.
That child within him appeared more and more. He’d see something in the shadowy parts of the Diner at night and that gross fuzzy feeling in his head would start. Jet or Party would ruffle his hair and he would have to stamp down the urge to cling to them more than he usually did. He’d wake up in the middle of the night terrified from a nightmare and automatically go to chew on the collar of his shirt, before tearing it out of his mouth again and clawing at his arms with the hate he felt towards himself. Towards that fucking kid. He didn’t hate his past self, but he hated this warped memory of him that his brain fell back on. One day, Party suggested they get something to comfort him, a stuffed animal or new blanket. Kobra snapped at them about how they shouldn’t encourage it and to just leave it alone. He managed to stay angry for the rest of the day until Party wriggled under his blanket that night and wrapped their arms tight around his middle, whispering an apology with their cheek against his collarbone.
He’d just have to ignore it. He’d gotten this far without the world’s weirdest fucking coping mechanism, he could keep living without it.
That lasted about a week until he was trying to wash a plate in the kitchen and it slipped out of his trembling hands as he tried to move it from the sink to the drying rack Ghoul had insisted on crafting. The plate flipped dramatically before shattering into a million pieces that scattered across the counter and onto the floor.
Ah.
Alright then.
Kobra soon found himself on the floor next to the small shards of ceramic- he’d broken one of the nice plates, of course he’d broken one of the nice plates. Because he couldn’t have just fumbled a plastic plate or a fucking tupperware container. That wouldn’t have been interesting enough. He had to shatter the fucking thing and scare himself with the noise and now he was surrounded by sharp little pieces and he wasn’t allowed near sharp little things, he’d promised his brother he would stay out of the kitchen-
The cloudiness had snuck up on him in his panic this time, and now he was swimming in confusion and fear as he cowered in the forbidden kitchen because he broke it he was in trouble now-
“Kobra?”
He buried his face in his knees, unwilling to see who had caught him.
“Kobra, you okay?” The person was closer now, Kobra heard shuffling as they presumably sat in front of him.
“I’m s- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I-”
“Hey, it’s okay, are you hurt?”
“I didn’t, I promise, I didn’t, I didn’t do- do anything, I didn’t. I didn’t.”
“Kobra, look at me.”
Kobra slowly looked up, and- that was, that was someone he knew, someone safe, but he couldn’t place it. They tucked a fallen strand of black hair behind their ear, their visible eye wide and concerned. “Everything’s alright, I just need to know if you’re hurt. Can you give me that hand?” They gestured to his left hand, the one braced on the floor. He hesitantly lifted it, inspecting it for himself before holding it out. There were minuscule pieces of ceramic on his skin, but he couldn’t tell if they had broken skin or had simply dug in from the pressure.
“We need to wash this,” the person said, gently turning over Kobra’s hand in their own tattooed ones. They looked back up at him, expression disconcertingly flat. “Do you know your name?”
“K-Kobra.”
“And mine?”
Kobra paused, and he saw their face fall, before something clicked in his brain. “Ghoul. You’re Ghoul.” Their somewhat stringy hair that covered the scarred half of their face, the stitched tattoo that peeked out from under the collar of their black-and-yellow shirt, the way they were holding their arms bent, hands hovering at their chest. Kobra’s stomach twisted. You forgot Fun Ghoul.
Ghoul let out a relieved sigh. “Fuck- okay, that’s good at least-” Kobra couldn’t help the nervous laugh that escaped him at the swear. They paused, looking Kobra over again in a way that made him want to shrink out of existence. “You’re safe, okay Kobra? You aren’t seriously hurt, and you’re definitely not in any trouble.”
“I didn’t mean-”
“Shh. You didn’t do anything wrong, okay?” Ghoul pinched the bridge of their nose and sighed. “Dammit, I don’t know what to do,” they muttered, then braced their hands on their knees and stood. “We’re gonna wash your hand to get everything off of it, alright? Then I’m gonna- I’m gonna get you a drink or something. We’re the only ones in the Diner right now, so you’ll just have to bear with me.” They held out their hand and Kobra took it, more or less standing on his own but letting Ghoul pull him back to the sink.
“Soap and water is perfectly good enough,” they explained, grabbing a washcloth and quickly lathering a bar of soap that was barely a sliver, “and if there is something stuck then we use tweezers and rubbing alcohol.” Kobra didn’t shut his mouth in time to stop a whine at the mention of alcohol, and Ghoul looked apologetically up at him. “It sucks, but it’s necessary. Even a tiny cut getting infected could be really bad news. I promise if we have to use alcohol I’ll find ice pops somewhere and you can have however many you want.”
Quieted by the promise of frozen water and colorful syrup, Kobra let Ghoul wash his hand and pat it dry, looking over it again with a satisfied hum.
“It looks like nothing got stuck in there. You’re cured!”
While he was glad there wasn’t ceramic living in his skin and that Ghoul didn’t have to pour pain-juice on him, he had kind of been looking forward to ice pops. Ghoul seemed to notice his less-than-excited demeanor and squeezed his hand before letting it go. “Tell you what, we can get ice pops after we clean the broken plate up. We’ll wait for Jet and Party to come home, though, ‘kay?”
Kobra nodded, staring between his newly healed hand and Ghoul ducking away and returning with a broom. Ghoul tasked him with holding the dustpan while they swept and hummed an unknown meandering tune. The plate shards made soft clinking noises as they were pushed into the dustpan.
“You feelin’ any better?” Ghoul asked when they had thrown away the last of the plate. Kobra fidgeted with his gloves and shrugged slightly. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, or even properly look at Ghoul. They might have sighed then, or maybe just exhaled or whatever but- Ghoul made a noise and started moving around the diner. “Come sit down, okay?” Kobra looked up from his hands and followed Ghoul to a booth. “I said I’d get you a drink, just stay there.”
Kobra did his best to sit perfectly still, staring down at his hands folded on the table. The distance between him and the table felt wrong and he hunched over until he finally just settled on resting his head on his arms, looking out the dusty window.
There was something outside. There was the shape of something moving, wavering and flickering in the sun.
It’s not real, Kobra tried to reason. But he could see it, he could see it right there and he was going to get in trouble for seeing things again, he wasn’t supposed to be seeing things, he wasn’t supposed to be doing this, why weren’t his meds working-
“Oh, hey, Jet and Party are back!” Ghoul said, appearing suddenly at Kobra’s side with a cup in hand. Kobra scrambled to his feet in the unsteady booth to see out of a cleaner part of the window, and- yeah, those were his friends. Not a shambling monster. Cool.
Oh, his feet were on the floor again. When did that happen? Whatever, he was pushing his way through the door now and pelting towards his brother. Party wheezed as Kobra slammed into them, wrapping his arms around them like a- a snake other than a cobra. The fat ones. He wrapped his arms around Party like a fat snake and they patted Kobra’s shoulder hesitantly. Kobra pulled away from them, gripping their hand tightly and pulling them back to the Diner. He was dimly aware of Ghoul saying something to Jet and Party as they sat down, leaning against Jet in an admittedly good impression of Kobra right now.
That was probably mean. Jet and Ghoul were already close when they’d met Party and Kobra.
“Ghoul said we’re- said we’re getting ice pops,” Kobra blurted. “I broke a plate.” That wasn’t quite the right order of things, but Ghoul could fill in the gaps.
“Where are we gonna get ice pops?” Party said, rubbing their thumb across Kobra’s hand.
Jet raised a hand sheepishly. “I may or may not have a stash of frozen goods. One that Ghoul said he wouldn’t exploit.” He threw a glare at his friend, who shrugged.
“It was an emergency!”
“What, were you gonna amputate?”
“No, I was trying to calm down a child who thought I was gonna pour alcohol on ‘im!” Ghoul said, crossing his arms indignantly.
Jet sighed, slumping over in his seat. “Yeah, that’s fair.”
“Alcohol’s a serious threat, man,” Party chimed in. They put their arm around Kobra in a side-hug. “Ghoul said you did good, though, I’m glad you’re alright.”
“I’m so brave,” Kobra agreed. “I want a cherry ice pop.”