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It started two days ago. In addition to the tremble Elliot was constantly tormented with, he noticed his vision would sometimes... Blur.
He registered it, but the glitch had vanished after a few seconds, and he'd been so focused on his task that he forgot about it.
Until... Today.
Elliot had been working on his program, an execution protocol that would delete the sensory detectors in his body; because damnit, he knew he could feel. He felt the poncho the stray had given him, its wirey edges against his metals. He felt the floor beneath his feet; it was stiff, filled with divots, and scratchy-
It was frigid in the slums, always harsh, and the cold itself... What a feeling. A bitter numbness he couldn't describe, like fire, but not? It could be excruciating if it wasn't rectified. The chill froze his joints on certain nights, and he couldn't move. His body didnt generate heat like Organics-
Is it possible for a robot to offline from hypothermia? Could I freeze to death?
Forcing that thought back- he'd been creating codes when his visual output unexpectedly fizzled into static; the lines of words on his computer screen stretched and muddled into blobs of color. It terrified him so bad that Elliot had startled back.
The camera-faced programmer recharged regularly, more than most. His CPU was always up to date, running security programs almost non-stop to keep himself clean, so why was his visual output blurring? Why was it so difficult to concentrate on his codes? Had he missed something during his last scan?
He could feel the telltale signs of panic rising in his complex wiring like the rumble of a dying engine in the distance. His systems were trying their hardest to keep up with the sudden, overwhelming thoughts that refused to go away. This is how it started; that's how it always started, the second he took notice of a new issue...
Elliot specifically remembered scanning his data for the virus this morning, everything was clean, but yesterday, had he done that yesterday? The day before? Of course, he did. He always did.
Elliot did it every day, so there had to be a hidden file he missed; something was corrupted, and his screen felt hot- Why was it hot? Was it more than just a simple visual glitch? Was there a virus eating at his systems? How was he supposed to fix something his protocols couldn't detect?!
He needed to see Doc; he could fix him now that he was back. Elliot was usually good with mechanics. He knew his body and how it worked down to the bolts and screws in his feet. But Doc- Doc had more experience than him. He needed to see Doc. He needed to know right now.
What if I go blind? How will I work?
Elliot tore his hands from the keyboard and clasped his ankles, digging his digits into the metal hard enough to cause indents. His tiny, camera-faced screen glared down at his lap, speckled with glitches, begging the thoughts to go away.
He felt the strength behind his death grip, a deep and bitter throb, but that mild pain did its job, wrenching him into the present like The Reaper dragging a tortured soul to hell.
You're fine. You dont need to see Doc; you're fine. Stop. Its nothing. You're freaking out over nothing.
His digits drilled in, and for a moment, only a moment- Elliot wished his squared-off fingers held something sharper at its ends. His core pulsed with anxiety that refused to settle with his unhealthy self-soothing.
Maybe if he went to recharge early, it would be okay in the morning... It could just as easily result from staring at a screen all day. That's what it had to be.
He shut off his monitor and ran another scan, just to be sure.
His scan provided no issues, as expected. He was fine. It's fine.
It's fine.
It's fine.
Focus.
He had to finish this last string. Then he would rest.
It's fine. Focus.
Elliot dove back into his routine, thin, nimble fingers darting across the keyboard with a mind entirely of their own. He could do this easily- in his sleep, but the program itself was... He was nervous about it; -he was nervous about everything- It had to be perfect; the companion refused to download anything into his systems that isnt perfect-
It happened again, just as he'd gone back to hyperfixing. His sight clouded, first at the edges, before it burst into a heavy, thick static that filled the entirety of his screen.
He couldn't see-
Words couldn't express the alarm that tore through Elliot's systems, like an electric shock directly to his core
Panic.
Nononono!
Elliot shoved away from his desk as his inner workings metaphorically caught fire. Something crashed to the floor, but he wasn't paying attention.
Some things wrong. Something is broken. It has to be. I need to do- how do I fix it? How do I start? There are no pop-ups or signs. What is it? What's causing it? Why is it happening?
This was how it always worked, blinding dread surfacing in a mere instant. Elliots' thoughts raced while he hauled himself onto his thin, barely used legs. There was no stopping it now.
Walk. Do something. Stop thinking about it. I'm fine; it's not dangerous; I'm just tired.
Elliot began a practiced pace about the small upper-floor apartment, hugging his poncho close to his shaking body, concentrating intensely on each step his pedes made against the hardwood.
One step, two, three, four, five, six... Turn.
One step, two, three-
What if I go blind? How will I be able to fix this if I can't see? I can't go blind; it would ruin my work. How would I finish the executed program?
Turn. One, two, three, four, five, six, Turn...
One, two, three, four, five, six... Turn...
Should I sleep? What if I wake up and it's worse? Will sleeping halt its progress? I need to find it. I need to find that missing-
Stop.
Walk.
One step, two, three, four, five, six, Turn.
One, two, three, four, five, six-
Maybe if I stay up, it won't have a chance to progress. But what if staying awake lowers my energy, and it accelerates?
Elliot didnt need to breathe, but the addon compelling his breathing ramped up like he was moments away from suffering from an asthma attack. He couldn't have asthma, he was a robot, but his body felt prickly, wet, and weighed down. He felt weak; was it the virus? Was it affecting his energy now too?
I need to find the file I need to find the file I need to find-.
"Ellie?"
He'd never been so relieved to hear that voice, sounding tentatively from the entrance to his room. Elliot spun on his heel, mid-pace, his small screens making barely a second of eye contact before he drove himself into the other's chest with a bleep of panic.
Nestor almost tripped backward, but he caught Elliot -and himself- before he could take a tumble down the steps.
"My screen? Look at mah- my screen. Is it okay?"
Nestor's larger frame coiled around his frail body, and he carefully led his trembling frame deeper into his room, towards the mattress and stacks of pillows that made his bed.
"Shhh, it's okay, babe. I got you."
"M-my screen?!"
Once they got there, Nestor cupped Elliots' monitor, tugged it from his chest, and softly tipped it upwards, studying the two miniature screens, long and hard, with a squinted genuine expression.
"I dont see anything wrong with your screen, sweetheart." He said after a time.
Elliot heard the words, but they barely registered. "It feels hah-hot." He pressed. "It's hot, an-and it keeps... keeps going unfocused. I-"
His boyfriend nudged the back of his hand against Elliot's camera lens and dabbed at it; he pulled away with a shake of his head. "It's not hot, I promise."
Elliot insisted, his voice pitching as his hysteria surged to the forefront. "I-It keeps blurring; I tha-think I might've contacted a vah-virus. If I go blind, I can't feh-eh-hix it. I can't fi-"
"You're not going to go blind, Ellie." Nestor bent foreword, resting a hand behind his head and tugging Elliot into his front casing. And slowly, delicately, like the programmer would break if he moved any faster, his boyfriend lowered them both onto the nest of blankets and pillows that made their shared bed.
Elliot wanted to believe his words, but- "Are... you sure?"
"Im sure, Super ultra, very incredibly and undeniably sure," Nestor replied confidently. He pulled the feeble companion into his lap, wrapping his arms around every inch he could, protecting him from any unseen force that dared visit them during his powerless moment.
Elliot let it happen, his voice worn and lowered, wimpy. "Eh-it feels so hot..."
"How about... This?" Nestor's hands slid from Elliot's monitor to his shoulders, then to his back as he drew him closer still. "How does this feel?"
Nestor's fingers pressed into the smooth metal, gliding under his poncho and into the seam there. It felt... Good, traces of chilly but thoughtful digits creeping down his spinal strut, gentle enough to almost tickle, his hands soothed his tremors like ice to the sting of a violent burn wound.
"G-good."
"Why dont you focus on that for me, then, Okay, Ellie?"
Elliot nuzzled into Nestor's baggy green shirt, wanting- needing to get lost in its oversized folds. He forced all of his attention into his companion's digits, just like his boyfriend asked, as they traced patterns along his body.
Up, down, a circle... a star. A square, a heart...
Elliots' rapidly overheating systems slowly began to cool, and the faint touches of metal digits dancing along his back calmed his erratic breathing. The programmer shut off his screens and propelled himself into the moment.
"You're okay. My vision sometimes blurs too. It's normal." Nestor told him, resting his head against Elliot's sunken monitor. He always knew what to say, and Elliot's scattered thoughts organized with each whispered word.
"If you did go blind, id hold you on my back to find someone to fix it. All the way through the sewers. Up to midtown if I had to." Nestor promised; a weight fell over Elliot's back as the other companion draped a thick blanket around them both, creating a cocoon of safety, warmth, and love.
"R-really?"
"Oh yeah, yes, really. Nothing could stop me. You're also very light, so it'd be like carrying a couple of music sheets."
"Yuh-you dont... think it's a big deal?"
"I dont think so, babe. You stayed up really late last night, remember?" Elliot didnt remember. "And you got up early too. I bet you'll be better in the morning if you sleep."
Elliot's puffs calmed as Nestor towed him down to lay with him. The companion curled his frame around Elliot's balled form, and Elliot eagerly pressed hard into the mech's rigid body.
He just needed sleep. It would be better in the morning, just like Nestor said. He didnt need to freak out. It was okay. It was normal.
Im alright.
"You're alright, Sweetheart."
The hand that cupped his neck squeezed gently, and Elliot sighed at the pressure, and little by little, he gave in.
"Oh-okay."
The small apartment grew into a comfortable stillness. Nestor continued his ministrations, drawing pictures along his boyfriend's metals, and Elliot wholeheartedly plunged himself into the patterns, like he did every day with his work.
An I,
An L,
An O V, and E.
A U.
I love you too. I love you too, I love you.
Elliot couldn't imagine where he'd be now if Nestor hadn't decided to stay with him that first night- when the programmer had lost an arm to a Zurk infiltration and attack.
It hurt Elliot; he'd felt the excruciating agony of his wires and metals being torn and chewed into, ripped apart by hundreds of tiny, razor-sharp teeth. He'd screamed; the pain had blinded him. It had been so intense that Elliot had passed out mid-attack, and once he awakened, he refused to leave the safety of his home.
He never wanted to experience that again.
"I came up with this new story idea," Nestor stated, banishing the silence, displacing his thoughts, returning Elliot to the reality he almost slipped from.
It was like the companion could physically see his thoughts- maybe there was a tell, a sure way his body acted when he began to overthink- that had to be it.
Or, maybe, Nestor simply knew him and how he was. After all, his boyfriend had tended to him for a long time. And although Elliot sometimes felt terrible for dumping his issues on another mech- Nestor made it clear that he was beyond happy to help him through anything.
"No, I'm not joking- Yes, Really. Seeing you comfortable and happy, smiling like that. -Just like that- hey, dont stop! It's cute, anyway ... It's kinda all I want in life."
Their relationship began with that line years ago. Elliot still remembered how flustered he'd felt.
"...K-Kinda?"
"Well, I also want to, like, write books that people read. You know? And not just the info stuff like Doc makes... I want to make this super action-packed comedy about an immortal Ancestor who zaps Zurks with eye lasers, and- Oh, shoot, Im sorry."
Elliot loved the way Nestor laughed after his rambles. It was funny; Elliot was a geek, Nestor was a nerd, and it was probably why they fit together so perfectly.
"Look, the point is. I would literally do anything for you, Ellie. So can we, like, Give this a try? Please? Plus-Ultra, please? I promise your ways won't bother me, and I promise I won't ramble so much."
"I... lah-like It when you ram... ramble."
During his musings, Elliot nearly forgot Nestor's question and jumped to reply before his thoughts decided to take off like Roshee during a zurk alarm again.
"T-tell me, please."
Nestor chuckled. "That was a long pause; whats that brain of yours doing?" He teased, tilting Elliots' monitor just enough to brush his glass against his lens in a delicate, tender kiss. Elliot nudged back, his grip tightening on his boyfriend's shirt.
Nestor drew away with a very cute trill and a sky-blue screen filled with peaceful, affectionate hearts.
"Let's see..." He curled his body around Elliots, tucking the blanket around his still shaking mass. The programmer basked in the feeling of his boyfriend's body covering every inch of him, keeping any and all warmth trapped under the blankets with them.
"It's kinda like the last book I wrote, do you remember? With the other ancestor?"
Elliot didnt hesitate. "Ah-I remember all yuh-your books. Th-the one with Hannah? And that rouge companion?"
Nestor squeezed him tighter, overjoyed with the companion's memory. "Yes! Of course, you remember. You're so good at remembering details. I bet you even know her hair-"
"Purple." Elliot chimed. "St-she had purple hair with a blue streak in th-the back. We-waist length. An-and the... ah, Oh! The black headband!"
"This is why I love you." Nestor cooed, nuzzling his screen against the top of Elliots' monitor. The programmer whirled at the attention and hinted praise.
"L-love you too, but con-continue?"
"Right! So it's like that, but instead of a human, it's that cat, the orange one. And instead of it being on the outside, it'll be like, their whole journey through the city!"
"Lah-like a biography?"
"Yeah, but with more fantasy and action; Picture this: mutated zurks with tentacles and gangster companions with guns!" Nestor trilled, his tone climbing in that telltale sign Elliot knew all too well.
"Teh-terrifying." Elliot indulged.
"I know, right? but anyways-"
There it was- the, but anyways, the one motto this mech had that meant he was about to go off the deep end.
Not that he minded, The programmer loved when Nestor blabbed his audios off. So Elliot hummed, settling in, balling fists into his boyfriend's trashbag of a shirt, ready to listen.
"It would start with The Stray on the outside- but something happens, and they fall into the dead city, where they have to fight through the zurks to get here, to our little happy place. Also, instead of Momo going with them to Antvillage, I'll go with them because it's my book and I can do what I want- but... I dont think Momo would appreciate that in the long run... He might even fight me over it... actually, you know what, never mind. Momo can keep his spot; im happy writing my character right where he is. With you. And there will be lots of us scenes, I promise. Every other chapter, even if it isnt relevant-"
Nestor's voice grew further and further away as Elliot's systems, one by one, shut off, and drowsiness began dimming his display. It was easy, all too easy, to forget about his troubles when he had Nestor at his side, chattering about all those little scenes he kept stowed away in his mind.
Elliot wondered how many of them made it onto paper.
"~but theres a twist; Momo's screen gets cracked fighting zurks, so they have to stay in the village for a while, but, hey! At least Zbaltazars alive~ Ensue cuddle session, because uh-yeah, those two are definitely gay, everyone will flip over that, and then~."
It wasn't hard to fight sleep when Nestor's narrator-like drawl took over each and every thought he'd ever had.
"~...... then the stray meets this shady dude~ ...... ~wouldnt it be funny if his face was upside down?~...... ~Clem tries to wack them with a lamp because she's crazy~..."
Taces of fingertips, a whispy voice, and the undeniable feeling of love. Elliot let recharge claim him, his thoughts filled with tenderness, a soothing, metallic embrace- and a little orange cat.