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Chanlo wanted to be stronger. He'd tried bugsnax, he'd tried lifting weights. Here he was, back sharing a room with Snorpy, and he was back to himself.
Always ignoring a tiny voice in his head. It told him he wasn't good enough.
It crept in during work outs, telling him he hadn't done enough on the island to keep Snorpy safe, that he was alive because of the reporter, because of Filbo, because of anyone but himself.
If he did enough push ups the tiny voice telling him how close he was to losing everything would fade into background noises, be lost under his grunts and gasps.
The smell of sweat would wash out the smell of bugsnax in his memory. How his boyfriend had smelled good enough to eat, how his own arms had looked delicious. His own sweat washed it all from his mind.
There was only the past before the island. Before they had gone on what was a horrible date. One horrible date. That's all it was.
People didn't think he was the type to dwell, to run his green fingers over the past and really fret. Eggabell, Lizbert, they were gone. He hoped they were together, happy, somehow. Like him and Snorpy. But no sign of them had come. Not even letters.
Thoughts like that were not far from the little nagging voices. Those thoughts twisted and became what ifs. What if he'd been like Liz? What if Snorpy had been like Eggabell? Staying behind because of love and watching the world end. It scared Chandlo. Deep down he hid this fear, but it wiggled and ate at him when everything was quiet.
In that silence he tried to focus, to pick out from everything else, just how close he'd become to Snorpy, how far they'd grown. Even if he didn't care for his sib Floofty, they had grown and now it was something solid. They often visited, using science excuses and walking on their prosthetic foot to meander about. Some days they lectured Snorpy on what he was eating. As if any of it compared to bugsnax.
Chandlo welcomed the friends, even Floofty-sib. He loved Gramble and Filbo's meet ups the most. They pulled him out of the small furrows he sank into. For a week after a visit, he wasn't thinking too hard. Life was just good.
Until Snorpy was hurt or needed help and he couldn't do it alone. But he'd call someone else to help. He wasn't supposed to do everything on his own... was he?
“Your forehead had three wrinkles more than usual.” Snorpy commented, glasses lifted to rub his tired eyes. “Are you okay?”
“I think so, Snorp-dawg.” He was tired. The little voices chirped at him like bugsnax singing their names.
“Go rest, but first.”
Snorpy pressed a kiss that faded everything else away. It was one of the few things Chandlo had found that banished everything into an abyss. They stayed gone, his mind could rest. Like holding his boyfriend close at night, simple kisses erased all his worries and cleared his mind. He mumbled a thanks, suddenly focused on the positive.
Snorpy made it all worthwhile. And Chandlo never doubted Snorpy.
But Snorpy never doubted Chandlo. Maybe he needed to be more like that with himself too.
“Get some sleep, I love you, Chandlo.”
“Love you too, Snorp-dawg.”