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The nutty aroma of coffee followed Chesed as he strode through the halls of the Information Department. He greeted each hard working employee he passed with a small nod of acknowledgement—though it was the early morning, there was always at least a few up and running around at all times, from what Chesed had seen since he started making frequent trips to the upper floors.
It had been about seven months since his trips to the Safety Department began, and two months since he and Netzach became partners.
It was the highlight of the days he was able to make the time go there—typically during the early mornings or late at night. It’s during these short trips to his beautiful green office that Chesed finds that the proverbial mask he wears can finally come down.
He doesn’t even realize he’s smiling already until he’s standing outside Netzach’s office. He gives a small knock on the door—most of the time, Netzach never answered (once when he asked why, he said it’s because he doesn’t want Yesod or Tiphereth to know he’s there if they’re the ones standing outside) so it was just a courtesy knock more than anything.
He steps into his office and his eyes scan across the room. From the looks of it, it was completely empty. This was hardly the first time he found himself alone in Netzach’s office. Though Netzach was already here most times he visited, sometimes he would catch him at a time where he was out doing whatever responsibilities he had due that day (or yesterday).
He decides he’ll wait, then. He takes a seat on the worn couch in his office and sips the coffee he’d brought for the trip over. Behind him, in the corner of the room, sits the coffee machine Netzach had ordered to be put in his office two months prior.
He hated coffee—something he told Chesed when he first got to know him personally. Then, one day—not long after Chesed had admitted his feelings for him—the machine suddenly appeared in his office. The machine, though not used by its owner, was well-loved. He remembers the times he would be making coffee while Netzach would snake his arms around his middle, and either rest his head on the back of his neck or on his shoulder. He smiles into his coffee at the thought.
His nostalgic ruminations are suddenly interrupted by the sound of a metal can hitting the floor.
Chesed snaps his head to the side, and sees a can roll out from behind the desk in the back of the room. He realizes it’s Netzach’s favorite brand.
“Netzach…?” he asks, unsurely, slowly getting up from the couch. He leaves his mug on the coffee table in front of him.
There’s silence. And then a familiar sounding groan.
Chesed crosses the room to his desk in no time, peeking his head from around the desk to see the man he’d been waiting for. Netzach sat under the desk with his legs extended, his head leaning against the backboard. There were four different beer cans scattered around him, some knocked over. One was still loosely held in his hand.
His cheeks were dusted pink—something Chesed quickly noticed happened whenever he drank alcohol. His eyes were glazed over, somewhere far away, but not far away enough.
“I didn’t know you were already here, dear,” he says softly. “Are you all right?” The second it leaves his mouth he realizes how stupid the question is.
He gets a bitter snort, as he should’ve expected. “How could I be?” Netzach’s eyes still don't meet his.
Chesed decides to take a seat in front of him. “Did something happen?” It could’ve been anything. In a place like this, there was never a day without an incident—never a day without several incidents, even.
A sour smile crosses his face. “When doesn’t something happen?” He crushes the empty beer can in his hand and lets it fall out of his grip. “Everyday is always the same.”
This was hardly the first time Chesed had seen him like this. Netzach held so much hope for the world, and it was always so thoroughly crushed every time. Some days were worse than others. It appeared today was one of those days.
“My whole department,” he begins. “They’re all gone. Wiped out.” He feels around him and his hands brush against each empty can. “And of course they’ve already been replaced.” He groans as he finally looks down around him. “Fuck, I’m out.” He groans as his arms go limp at his side, finally giving up his search for another can of beer. “I’m not drunk enough for this. Not high enough either.”
No Sephirah hadn’t experienced the deaths of their employees. It was a natural part of life—just another part of the job they never asked for.
No amount of flowery words can fix it, Chesed knows that.
“Is it okay if I touch you?” is what he asks first.
There’s an affirmative noise.
He puts a gentle hand on his knee, and brushes his thumb over it. “I know full well that this likely means nothing to you but…for what it’s worth, I’m sorry, Netzach.”
He means it. He wishes he could do something. He thinks back to before, when he tried so hard to implement a program to reduce employee deaths. He feels the familiar twinge of guilt in his stomach.
“I want this to be over,” Netzach murmurs, barely above a whisper, and Chesed can smell the familiar pungent scent of alcohol on his breath. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”
Chesed feels that familiar ice cold dread spread through his body—that sharp spark of anxiety that makes him want to scream out “no.” It’s something he remembers well from his previous existence—something that carried over into his current one. He wants to hold Netzach close and tell him he doesn’t want him to die because of course he doesn’t. Yet, he keeps his mouth closed.
It was strange how everyone here was working so hard to finally be put to rest—to be shut off and put into an eternal sleep after so much pain and senseless slaughter—yet Netzach’s open yearning for death made the alarm bells in his head go off.
Though many words float through his head, all he can say is, “I know.” And he does—he knows because this scene has played out so many times before, and also because sometimes the same thought finds its way into Chesed’s mind.
The idea of death was different from most people to Chesed, as he was sure was the same for most of the Sephirot. In this place, so full of death and destruction, death didn’t really exist for them—at least, not in the way that normal humans experienced it. Chesed had witnessed the destruction and restoration of a certain Sephirah in particular many times. He imagined the same would happen to himself or Netzach should either of them be deemed unfit to work—how very comical to be denied death in a place that thrived on the mangled corpses of its people.
Chesed had laughed quietly to himself many times in his own office thinking about such cruel irony.
Though he had frequently dreamed of a day where he could simply cease to exist, he found himself unable to take any course of action to get there, unlike Netzach. Maybe it was because he knew it was futile. Or maybe it was because he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Maybe it could even be because, deep down, he didn’t want to simply cease to exist. Or maybe he felt like he didn’t deserve such an easy and peaceful non-existence.
He hated thinking so much about it. It was much easier to simply throw himself into the work he always did—playing the good guy who cared so deeply for his employees.
“How much longer do you think we’ll be like this?” Netzach asks suddenly.
He decides to be honest—it didn’t feel good to put on the usual show he put on for his employees in front of the man he’s come to care so deeply for. “I don’t know.”
“Do you think it’ll ever end?”
Chesed wasn’t much for optimism. Not anymore. He kept his instinctive “no” locked away in the back of his head. “I don’t know, Netzach. I truly don’t.”
There’s an exhale through his nose. “You’re too honest, man.” He finally looks down and meets Chesed’s eyes. “This is where you’re supposed to lie and tell me it’ll be over soon, you know?”
He laughs softly. “My apologies~ I’ll know for next time.”
Next time. Because there will always be a next time and they both know it.
He suddenly groans and shoves a hand to the side of his head. “Ugh…my head hurts…”
He just smiles sadly at him. “Come here~” Chesed opens his arms, and Netzach shuffles on to his knees, and falls into him. He rests his forehead on Chesed’s shoulder, and lets out a sigh as his body relaxes against him. Chesed runs one of his hands through his long green hair, gently undoing the tangles in them.
Netzach would forget or simply not feel motivated enough to comb through his hair most days. Chesed would take it upon himself to brush through his hair—with either a brush or his fingers—on those days when he would come to his office and find it uncared for. It was the least he could do.
Netzach hums quietly. He mentioned before how nice it felt to have someone play with your hair—no one had ever done that for him before.
“I hope it’s soon,” Netzach says quietly.
“Hmm?”
“When I get shut off. Or when my body is destroyed.”
He thinks of an eternal blackness where there is no suffering, no thoughts, no guilt, no reflection looking back at him. At the same time, he thinks of a world where there is no coffee—no more smell or taste of it—and he thinks of a world where Netzach doesn’t exist. That previous ideal world feels less ideal.
But when he thinks of one where they could exist in nonexistence together, it feels warm again. He hopes when they’re shut off for good one day that he can still feel his presence—that familiar warmth accompanied by a green glow.
“I hope when we take our final bows, we do so together,” Chesed murmurs. “My final rest could hardly be peaceful without you.
He hopes that if there is a next life, they will be far away from here. He hopes there is a world out there where they can live a boring life. He hopes they won’t have to hold each other up while collapsing themself.
Chesed isn’t sure if he deserves a world like that, but he lets himself hope. Just for a moment.
Netzach’s hand on his back clenches, fisting the coat on his back. He buries his head further into Chesed’s shoulder.
“It doesn’t sound bad. Falling asleep with you.”
“Is that a plan then~?” Chesed hums.
“Yeah. Maybe then those eyebags will finally clear up.”
He huffs a laugh, and the two sit in companionable silence. His fingers continue to comb through his locks until no matter which strands he brushed through, it was completely smooth the whole way through.
The hand clutching his back slowly loosens until it falls, and Chesed hears the unmistakable sound of Netzach’s quiet snoring.
After a few he finally begins to carefully move. To his unsurprise, Netzach barely moves as Chesed shuffles him into his arms. Netzach could sleep through anything—that’s something he’s positive of.
As he takes him to the worn and torn couch in the middle of his room, he can’t help but think of the first time he carried Netzach in his arms. He remembers looking at his face and thinking how peaceful he looked—the most at peace he’d ever seen him.
“Good night,” he says, as he gently puts him down. His ankles dangle off the edge of the tiny couch, but he looks perfectly comfortable regardless.
He stays for a few moments and memorizes the serene look on his face.
He hopes he has that same look when they’re finally about to exit stage left.