Work Text:
They start by counting seconds.
They count to 4,003 the first day before stopping. Seconds bleed into minutes, which turn to hours– has it already been days?
Ace remembers only fractions of each one.
On day one, they sit and talk to the Poke Balls that lie beside them, as if the Pokemon can hear their voice through the outer casing– are the locks jammed? They didn’t open anymore. One Poke Ball is missing.
On day eight, they pace the perimeter of the box one thousand times.
On day sixteen, they count the squares on what they assumed was the ceiling– who knew if it truly was? They count to 20,736 before they give up.
Every day passes in a haze. Their doubt battles the hope for rescue that they still held at each turn, until one day, it wins.
They don’t know for sure how many days it had been anymore, but they wish that they did.
Their fingers trembled from the cold, and yet they cried tears that froze in their tracks on their face, throwing their arms around their dearest friend and sobbing into his shoulder. They could feel cold again. The chilly air paled in comparison to the warmth of reunion, and of seeing his face once more– he was real this time.
It’s been days since their rescue, and yet whenever they close their eyes to rest– they stare only into the backs of their eyelids.
The lamp perched on the bedside table emits a gentle, warm glow as Ace opens their eyes some moments later, and turns to face the light, staring into its depths until it blinds them. They squint, wincing as it burns and then fades into nothing.
They turn away.
Yet the desire to turn back and stare into it once more is enticing. It was their anchor- protecting them from the darkness trailing behind them. They still clung to the light- yet they scoffed at the mere thought of needing it so desperately.
Who had they become to still plead for a light aside their bed at twenty-three years old?
The thought is a poison that burns their chest painfully. Of course the thought is irrational.
Ace doesn’t fear the dark. It simply isn’t a consideration.
Taka’s smile is soft as he flicks the switch, settling under the covers only a few feet from them. The apartment they share in Agate is far smaller than the room they had to themself within Meteor, but it’s theirs– more than either of them have ever been able to say before.
They have to remind themself that it is all real, as if it will be ripped from them once more.
Peaceful sleep has not been a luxury they have had in a long time. They stare at the ceiling with a smile on their lips, snuggling into the soft blanket in an absentminded, drowsy motion as they pull it up to their chest. It is a luxury that they have missed.
Taka’s presence close by is a comfort, marked by rhythmic, light breathing– until they close their eyes.
They feel a cry tumble from their throat as they fall backwards into the darkness, obscuring the ceiling they know lies above their head. Their fingers tingle and stiffen as they claw their way to the surface– but their arms have not moved, quivering lifelessly at their sides, and a wave breaks over their head as they are dragged down once more.
Bitter memories gnaw at their heels, and force their way into their head.
Get up get up get up get up get up please–
Solaris lies unmoving no matter how many times they cry out his name desperately and plead to the empty air. Blood pools through his tan coat and splatters the snow a sickly pink that makes their stomach turn upside down and forces them to turn away to gag– only to be faced with another image, flickering on the screen. Their cousin- lack of contact has not diminished their love, or led to any lack of care– and the agonizing sound of her scream wrenches their heart from their chest as black smoke pours from her mouth with every quick gasp, her image rendered apart within seconds in the swirling void, an illusion far surpassing any trick of their own.
Tears fall from their eyes and they hunch over, hands on their knees, breathing hard and fast– they gasp for air, but any breath is trapped in their throat–
Ace could barely recall crying before. They took pride in their appearance– physically and mentally, burying emotions under layers of smiles and playful grins and banter– they hated crying. And they couldn’t slip in front of their closest friend when he needed them more, could they?
But now, they don’t know if they even have any more tears to fall.
(That doesn’t mean they don’t try, regardless.)
You deserved this, didn’t you?
They don’t think, only react as they dart in front of Amaria, and stars explode in their vision as Lin’s hand meets their cheek. It is as if they have been struck by white-hot steel instead of a human hand– Ace bites back the gasp rising in their throat, blinking away the pinpricks of tears that have sprung to the corner of their eyes at the sudden burst of pain. They square their stance protectively and glare up at Lin in a quiet, cold fury.
“That’s enough.” Their hands curl into fists at their sides, trembling in a determined, righteous anger. “I expect loyalty to the family, not needless cruelty. You’ve taken it too far already.”
Lin’s gaze is impassive.
The look on their now-dear-friend’s face is one that haunts their vision as they disappear, and Ace turns on their heel immediately, slamming their head against the wall with a thud. A quick glance around– the confirmation that no one else will witness their weakness is instinct by now– and they slide down the wall and sit on the floor, head buried in their hands.
The gate they have been desperately keeping together breaks, and they let the tears tumble down their face as they sob into their hands.
A memory of green eyes flickers in their mind– Lin’s arms were folded, a smug smile adorning her face as she stood behind Solaris, concealed from his vision as he issued their notice of demotion– green eyes that drilled directly into their aghast face as if taking her own glee in their terror.
Inconsolably melancholic, their eyes had begged what they could never tell their hero- their only chance. Can’t you tell?
Am I going crazy?
Would I even know?
“After everything, even you presume to defy me?” Elias’ lips are curled in a snarl that mars his features as he trembles with rage, the light sharpening his face into a terrifying spill of shadow. “For all that my master and I have done for you– this is how you repay us?”
Ace recoils backwards as if they’ve been struck. They spare a desperate glance back at Luna, who wrenches her wrist out of the remainder of the cuff as they stand protectively between her and Elias, their face set in determination.
She had been their support system for what no one else could truly understand, and they gave themself freely as the same to her. They remembered spending hours searching for flags after she had shared the news with them, digging through their wardrobe to find clothes to share. They remembered the light sparkling in her eyes like stars as she had thrown her arms around them– their breath had caught in surprise.
They had exhaled, wrapping their arms around her in response– even if the moment was fleeting.
But in the dim glow of the candles within the Sanctum, any of the remaining light in her eyes has flickered and faded into mute terror.
I refuse to be complicit in this anymore.
I’m sorry.
Their arms tremble with the effort of holding the taller priest back, and he bellows furious curses in the ancient tongue, struggling against their grip desperately as Radomus, Luna, Cain, and Decibel vanish into thin air.
Am I right back where I started all those years ago?
I don’t deserve this–
Small pixels scatter off their hands, the abyss of black and white beyond the screens of their tiny PC box blurring into gray through the tears in their vision.
Lin’s piercing gaze flashes in their mind once more.
They grip their arms, to find some constant, to ground themself. Or they try– their fingers fall straight through their arms, humming with a jolt of electricity that makes their hands tingle. Ace watches with a mute numbness, struggling to take in a breath as they inspect their hands with glassy eyes.
They take a single, ragged breath.
No. Of course I do.
Their eyes fly open and they bolt straight up in bed like a rocket as they cast the sheets aside, barely noticing the pain as the fabric skims the top of their hands. Salty tears wash trails down their face as they double over, shaking violently as the memories flow back to them, one after another. They find themself biting into their hand to muffle any noise, or perhaps an assurance that they are flesh and blood once more.
Ace finds themself curled in the space beside the bed, huddled against the wall and shivering violently, but they aren’t quite sure how they got there. All they know is that the room they sit in feels all-too-small, and their breathing has quickened– their chest is tight and stomach tied in knots.
The room has shifted– the walls grow smaller and they blink, watching the opposite wall spin and morph into an all-too-familiar screen– their PC box. It was too tight. Too restrictive. Too– too–
They were trapped.
They curl further in on themself– an attempt to shrink as much as possible. Their mouth moves, but no sound comes out– they can’t hear anything, save the ringing that echoes in the back of their head. The burning sensation in their chest builds, and they squeeze their eyes shut as if to block out the thoughts. Ace attempts to sit up and swallow, but their head spins and their stomach turns with nausea, and their throat is all too dry–
They can’t breathe.
They have to get out.
Scrambling to unsteady feet, they stagger over to the open space in front of the beds and reach for the small bottle on the table. They settle against the wall, hands trembling as they fight with the bottle cap and the water sitting next to it, and swallow one of the pills with difficulty.
Remember what Taka told you, the voice in the back of their head whispers quietly. Fix your posture. Chest open, shoulders back, slow breaths, in through the nose, and out through the mouth. As many as you can.
Ace hisses out several panicked breaths as they shift positions, tilting their head back against the wall. Any sips of water are a mighty struggle- small and cautious, and they swallow thickly, anxious not to upset their stomach further.
Remember what he said.
One… two… thr–
Their first attempt ends in a raspy, choked gasp, and the second follows in failure.
Try again once more, his voice urges gently.
One… two… three… four.
The walls seem to retreat backwards as they exhale, breathing slowly steadying to a trickle of its former rapidity. Focusing on the water in their hands, they listen for the telltale sound of Taka’s even breathing, matching their own breath with his.
And as quickly as it all came, it subsides into silence.
Ace lets out a long, shaky breath that eases a little bit of the pressure on their shoulders, and they glance at the clock across the room, taking another sip of water.
2:44 am.
Stumbling into the small kitchen some time later, they flick the lightswitch, watching as soft light floods the room– thank goodness. Their movements are slow, clumsy– they pour water into the cup of Nido’s Noodles and shove it in the microwave, resting their forehead against the window of the microwave and watching the cup rotate on the plate. They glance at the clock once more– 3:57 am – and groan, peeling back the lid from the cup and sitting at the edge of the counter.
Ace lifts the spoon to their mouth, but before they can take a bite, their stomach turns once more, and they lower the spoon– they’ve lost their appetite. Rain courses down the windowpane in sheets outside, and they watch the trails race each other down the window, until–
“…Ace?”
Their head jerks up from where they’ve been staring without seeing, and Taka’s standing in the doorway, brow furrowed in confusion. He squints and shields his face as he glances into the light for a brief moment, until his gaze turns back to them. “What are you doing up?” His words are slurred slightly, hazy with sleep.
For a moment, they sit there, unmoving, staring at him stupidly. Their mouth opens and closes wordlessly while their mind whirls, desperately trying to fish up an excuse.
From his suspicious look, they don’t seem to be very successful so far.
Taka tilts his head, blinking the sleep away and taking a closer look at the dark-haired magician slumped on the kitchen stool. Dark circles rim the underside of their eyes and scruffy hair hangs around their shoulders, tangled as if they had spent the past several hours tossing and turning.
“Just a bit peckish– you can go back to sleep, little prince. Magic cannot perform on an empty stomach, after all~!” They smile, but it feels strained, awkward– painful.
He raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Are you sure everything’s fine?” His gaze sweeps from the untouched cup of noodles to the clock on the stove, before settling back on their face.
They wave a hand dismissively. “It’s– just some trouble sleeping. Nothing to concern yourself with.”
They hated lying.
It was just stretching the truth slightly this time though– wasn’t it? It was easy to lie to themself, and say that no, they were okay.
But on nights like this, Ace remembers– he knows them as well as they know him, and that ‘okay’ was just a little lie that only Taka could see through.
Ace avoids looking him in the eye, suddenly appearing very interested in the contents of their cup. Taka takes a few steps forward and leans on the edge of the counter, the sides of his mouth quirking into a smile for a split second. “You know, I’ve picked up a few mind-reading tricks of my own.”
They push the cup away to the edge of the counter, and a nervous giggle bubbles to the surface. “You’re still– you’re still a beginner, Taka– there’s bound to be inaccuracies–” And they’re scrambling for an excuse, until Taka takes their hand and they still.
“This is already a familiar song and dance for the both of us, Ace.” Taka says, and they stumble for words– any words to come to their lips.
“…Does it hurt to have an encore?”
Please…
“Ace.”
“I–”
For the first time, they’re speechless– their lack of words is its own answer, and he takes the seat next to them wordlessly, his hand warm in their own.
While the world still doesn’t grant them peace yet, Ace lets themself relax as they sit together in silence. It’s a different kind of silence.
And maybe– at least for now– it’s enough.
Thank you.