Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

For Felix, it had only been a few weeks since he'd fought a battle that he never thought he would fight. Although nothing in his life was the same; the air he breathed remained the same, hanging clothes swaying in the warm breeze, crows singing as they flew through the hideout, and the sounds of tired workers marching office workers kept him company in spirit as he stretched out behind a halfpipe.
That life remained static.

Bel and the beautiful blue-haired lady (whom Felix couldn't admit that he forgot her name too often) were chatting on the couches while Tryce and Solace fixed and maintained their equipment.

Good morning (ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh)

On the radio, Kanye West's new album said "Good Morning" to a warm and pleasant day.

If Felix was being honest, he couldn't discern where mornings started and nights ended. He had dark circles under his eyes and the irony of his tiredness caused a dissonance: he found melancholy in that he couldn't enjoy the sunrise.

Wake up, Mr. West, Mr. West...

His back popped audibly as he stretched.

"Augh!" He complained, pressing into his side like any old man would. hat back pain was just one of the pains that made him feel old and tired.

He walked away from the music to climb until he reached the half-pipe that was hidden behind some containers and connected directly to God knows where, he didn't remember, he was only there because he knew he would find a boy spread on the shade of the concrete walls.

His blonde hair and pale structure were a ghost, a strange apparition. Strange being just an understatement.

A purple lump was still fading from his forehead, from when he lost consciousness. The very people who he had tried to kill looking at him with disdain, while a bunch of metals and cables connected to his unwilling body were little more than a worm eating his brain.

He felt a certain disdain for being alive, disdain that was mixed with shame, shame, and battery acid leaking from the robotic parts he had been given. Although it was strange, he was ashamed of the shit he made, but he was also drowning in the same thing that had led him to make it. It resulted in him being in a slightly complicated mood. Again, an understatement.

" I already told you that I can't eat, literally, I can't digest anything. "

Knowing that Felix was the one who rescued him, even knowing everything he caused, made his stomach reject food. And no matter how much he said that he LITERALLY couldn't eat, he ended up slapping his forehead and saying "right, I forgot" and kept showing him new DJ Cyber releases and talking about crew stuff that did not matter to him.

Well, this time he came without food, at least that was new.

Felix stood there, humming as he tried to understand what he was doing there. "More like, you don't want to eat," he wanted to answer bitterly, but he stopped himself.

He too feels things when he sees Faux, his body now just alien to him. Despite being himself, he was afraid he would grimace as he felt the acid from his stomach burning him inside. However it had to be; It was he who let him live.

" Well, if you sit here all day, you're not going to recover well."

Felix sat next to him. He believed that, until now, he was only coming to him out of habit, half-caring about the horrible bruises on his arm and the cast that was still blank.

" If I get out and feel the sun, I won't get better either."

Faux didn't know how to make excuses so he wouldn't have to run into the rest of the crew; He felt quite a burden on his own so that a lot of people he didn't want to see made him feel like one too.

" ... I don't like the sun."

His robotic parts sometimes failed, it was the only thing he didn't know how to control, and he hid the oil spills he had, although that time he hadn't controlled the one on his arm, leaving a trail of his robot blood that he made attempts to hide. It was hard to understand his actions.

No one ever understood what Felix’ friend was like, since Faux was labeled to be serious and somewhat monotonous.

It used to be different with him.

" Fine, do what you want." Felix responded a little reluctantly. He was different too.

" Let me see your arms."

He replied flatly.

Faux snorted. It was true that Felix no longer insisted that he agree to his plans or anything like that; he agreed with him more, and that sometimes bothered him, an atrophy in his intestines.

He watched him for a second, analyzing. Could he fix that without his help? No.

Was it worth saying no? Nope.

Then, he had to give in, and although he did so slowly and rolling his eyes, he extended his arm to him, lifting his sleeve and removing a glove, being the closest they had been since the fight.

I think I twisted something while I was asleep."

Black drops fell slowly. It still hurt a little, metal that had been cooked or glued or whatever to his flesh, he had clumsy mobility.

Felix' expression immediately wrinkled, as he picked up his body a little, in rejection, but he tried to cover it up immediately by clearing his throat.

He took his arm, as humanoid as his current technology allowed him to be, and although he was no Flesh Prince, he did not want to harass him anymore with someone that had seen him do ... that... and had begged him to teach him just enough to not be a burden.

He pressed all over his forearm with his thumbs, searching for the "veins" that actually functioned to carry lubricating fluid so he could move.

"..."

Eventually, he saw Faux squirm a little as he pressed his wrist.

" Doesn't it hurt you to sleep here?"

Faux tightened his expression, closed his eyes tightly, and bit the inside of his mouth. Felix was never delicate, he didn't remember him ever being tactful in general.

He looked like he had no idea what he was doing. So why was he asking him to check it? His half-closed eyes looked at him judgingly as he clenched his lower lip between his teeth.

" N-No, I'm fine."

By this point, Faux was even squeezing his toes. It hurt too much, as if it were a fracture.

On his wrist was a small, out-of-phase tube. Felix felt sickly seeing it, but another part of him guiltily feels like he deserves the painful obstruction.

He pulled a strange stapler out of his baggy pants pockets. Quickly and without warning, he stapled the tube into place. He refrained from saying "I'm sorry" as soon as he murmured the first few letters.

" FELIX YOU...! "

Faux's body writhed in pain, his heels hit the cement and he placed his free hand on his forehead. The pain was sharp and cold, and he didn't understand why it hurt so much. He was sure that if any part of his flesh was stapled, he wouldn't be having the same reaction. It seemed like he had been made especially sensitive, maybe he deserved it.

He looked at him, squeezing his temple. He almost felt like hitting him if it weren't for the fact that his arm had stopped hurting and leaking. His red face began to relax little by little, his eyes shifted around, turning away from him, and murmuring a "thank you."

Felix’s body froze with the word stuck in his throat.

With his arm still in his hand, he caressed Faux’ skin for a few seconds with his thumb.

" Move a little, I want to see if you stopped… What do we call it? Squirting?"

Felix laughed a little, unintentionally.

" How funny."

Faux did exactly what he asked just as the staple ended up coming loose, liquid dripping out slowly.

" Shit."

He continued, panic stressing his voice as he pulled out a strip of stained bandage, having already planned for situations like these.

The open gash hurt, but not as much as being stapled.

Felix's stomach slowly drops.

" Shit!"

He exclaimed with dirty hands. He stood up, giving up in frustration: he had only come to hurt Faux and couldn't repair his arm.

" Hey, I'll fix that, I know what I'm doing, Faux." He remarked, rolling his eyes. " Move a little, Flesh Prince told you that you need it…"

" It's a bit fucked to get out of here without your best friends from your incredible Crew wanting to hit me with empty cans."

Faux denies, he couldn't guarantee that that would happen to him because he hadn't really tried to go out, but he had enough with the looks of disdain they gave him when he decided to, at least, stick his head out.

" Leave it like this, I'll see if I can fix it."

Felix turned his back on him.

" Ah, yes, good morning."

He added sarcastically, marching with his heart frozen, knowing it was a bitter lie, kicking his board to straighten himself and flee, whether his back hurt or not.

His crew saw it. The first to approach was Bel, asking if he was okay, followed by the blue-haired girl, Vinyl, who was silently checking on him. Solace and Tryce also peeked out of the garage. They were good people, Felix smiled and gave a thumbs up. He felt unlucky, to have the worst person he should have on his mind all the time.

Chapter Text

These days are old, the weight of breathing is restless, sinking into paranoia, and blood dries, but as one remains still the tickling of your skin rotting makes anyone itchy, being still is the same as being dead, so you move.

Felix spent most of the day around Millennium Square half-heartedly trying to climb that part where several banners spiraled because some genius (Him probably) thought that graffitiing the top of the building was a great idea years ago.

Attempts that stop until the warm breeze hits him and the polluted darkness of the city embraces him, he goes for a walk through a hardware store and a pizza place that kills him with melancholy.

He carries a box all the way to the hideout, still warm in his hands, though without a soul around he comes up calling his name.

" Hey... Faux."

But the tunnel was empty. His head throbbing like a heart, heart throbbing like a drum. He looks around confused and numb, darting a ghostly gaze until he finds a trace of black oil. He follows it on his skateboard looking for any shape, any whisper, an apparition in every corner, the panic that he has escaped thunders in his mind, his anger fills him, and sadness permeates him.

But at the end of the tunnel, it became easier to breathe. Felix stops at the edge of the concrete pipe finding a fenced overgrown parking lot surrounded by trashed high school metal chairs.

Finding out Faux is aware that he cannot live stuck in place, not like an object. He had tried but when he woke up without being able to move the robotic parts of him, he got a little scared. It's no one's business if he wishes to go out, and he doesn't need the pity of any of Felix's friends, much less him.

Since yesterday he started going out to practice. He couldn't remember the last time he had tried to ride rollerblades or a skateboard, and taking advantage of some skates that Félix had left behind, he sneaked into the neighboring district and rarely stayed in the den when he knew that no one was there.

He learned that his body has some part of an old stereo, he noticed a small hole where his old headphones connected perfectly and seemed to be able to connect to some signal, as he expected, music from DJ Cyber.

"Okay, okay, I can do it."

And he tries to slide down a rail, but... his robotic leg starts to tremble, making a horrible creaking noise.

Felix had sat on the edge to calmly eat a piece of half the cheese portion of the pizza, recovering the sugar he lost along the way. He was just as he thought: stunted and clumsy, those legs and arms were once those of a boy immensely talented as a result of his foolish and brilliant stubbornness. A tower that collapses trying to grind through a tube.

He runs with the piece of food still in his mouth and the whole box until he reaches his side.

" Faux! Up! give me your hand."

He was left like an old broken machine lying on the floor, and only he could feel sorry for himself, so he just lay there with the music playing in his headphones, feeling how his shirt was getting damp, he must have had another breakdown from which It was going to be taken care of later.

But a familiar shadow blocked the moonlight.

" What are you doing here? Im not a fucking dog."

But more importantly he reeked of food.

" ... What are you eating? "

Félix finished swallowing the food forcefully, unfortunately he had gone over what he was going to drink in the hope of feeding his refugee.

Seeing him "squirting" so much, gave him the clue to sit next to him again before forcing him to stand up.

" Pizza... Half cheese and half meat."

Faux seemed to smile sarcastically. He and Félix had a promise that if one day he hurt him too much by playing rough, he would buy him a pizza from that place that he really liked. Faux’ favorite was meat, and Felix ended up bringing half the cheese for himself. Although he hadn't thought that much about the meaning, now… Félix felt a bit embarrassed.

He put the box on his lap.

" Did you feel bad for having broken my arm more?"

Faux sits on the pavement, in no condition to walk.

" Wouldn't have thought that place was still runnin, the last time I passed by it seemed abandoned."

That was almost three years ago, three years that happened in a decade. He tears off a slice of pizza with slices of deli meat on top of it, squeezing a pocket of sauce over it.

" The man had given us a whole free pizza for making promotional graffiti…"

When they used to be friends, when they weren't part of the big three.

Above Felix’s mockery, he also emits a sarcastic giggle as he leans against the cold tube that dries the sweat from the back of his neck. He's a little relieved that he deigned to eat a little, even though admission of it burns his esophagus.

" Nah, it's still there, not the graffiti, of course. I think we sentenced him to having his wall be a tagging spot."

He goes for the second piece of it, filling his fingers with that delicious grease.

" I didn't break your arm on purpose, I just needed you to eat."

He looks at Faux out of the corner of his eye with some pride.

Faux is stuffing his mouth when he hears that, and as if it were a mirror, he looks at him out of the corner of his eye too, things that one of them copied from the other without knowing who was the first one that started, they even stopped chewing.

" So you atrophied my arm more to force me to eat? questionable."

Not as much as everything he's done, but he doesn't feel like judging that at that moment.

" No, the arm thing was not on purpose. I meant that I brought you pizza because you like it."

Felix retorts almost immediately with his mouth full.

" The arm thing was a coincidence."

Was it? Felix huffs in confusion at his own unconscious actions.

" Whatever, man. When I was in your body I didn't eat for three days thinking I was a robot. Don't you think you've had enough?"

He wipes the grease on an old rag without thinking much about what he just said and takes out a plastic bag with some tongs, some electrical tape, and one of those plastic tubes that shrink with heat.

"...Oh yeah… you had my body."

Truthfully, he had lasted a long time with his body, he didn't want to imagine what things he did, or saw, or thought. He feels a little invaded and a visible chill runs down his spine.

" I guess."

He puts another piece in his mouth, a mouthful, he never had respect for those pizzas and he always filled his entire mouth in a disgusting display.

" Did Flesh Prince tell you how to do it? "

He assumes that everything Felix took out was for his arm; very greedy to think that he brought it especially for him, but the pizza had given them such a melancholic touch that it seems as if nothing had ever happened.

And Faux took it so lightly that Felix suddenly feels a little silly, in a modern world being oblivious to your body is normal. Memories of him cause him psychic damage where he misses inhabiting the skin of someone he is not.

The sound of Faux’ loud chewing takes him out of it.

" Nasty." Felix says this in good humor. " I can't promise that it won't hurt you."

He extends his hand to him.

" At least your meat arm heals itself. "

Faux chews more audibly in return, opening his mouth and showing him the chewed food inside his mouth, laughing as he extends his arm to him. He repeated the same thing. The difference is that this time he took off his shirt, it was very stained, and it was uncomfortable to feel the oil on his skin, his glove also came off.

"Yes, my flesh still hurts a little."

And it was true, he had deep bruises and scratches, presumably from having thrown his own body into the void.

" I think I wasn't very intelligent."

Felix wrinkles the bridge of his nose with a smile.

" All looks, no brains."

Faux rolls his eyes.

Felix takes the rag and places it under his wrist where his wound is, he opens a little silicone with the tweezers, acting at the same time to catch the tube of lubricant and seize it to stop the bleeding.

"Take a deep breath, okay?"

" So Tryce isn't the only one who thinks I have a pretty face."

Suddenly the blonde boy forces himself to watch the operation, he squeezes his eyes after almost mechanically filling his lungs with air, he's not going to enjoy it, but it was necessary.

" Do it."

Felix ignores his comments, clicking his tongue. Right now he has more important matters like feeling like a surgeon, he even holds his breath as he pulls the tube from inside his body, the idea that it is a vein contorts him.

" Bite."

Felix hands him a half-dry pizza crust then he cleans the oil on the area around it.

A drum made of blood in your chest marks the slow but thundering rhythm of the swelling of your mind, like little soldiers in a marching band thoughts of Faux's pained face fog your vision. You are holding his arm, thick liquid pouring from it, black… no… red. Red.

The crust that Faux had bitten by inertia had broken under his teeth, his heels were hitting the ground and he was beginning to feel his face burning, he genuinely hoped that his eyes would not fill with tears.

" FÉLIX... F-FELIX YOU BETTER HURRY UP."

His voice strained in the most calm scream he could emit.

" I AM TRYING."

Felix starts to shake a little in panic, panting under his breath. He rolls the tube in duct tape juggling it with his teeth and his free hand and secures the place with the plastic tube.

When he finishes, he immediately releases his grip on the tweezers.

Faux ends up falling onto his back, returning to the starting position, but this time reaching for a piece of pizza as he feels relief rush up his arm.

"Ahggg...."

He's sweating, his chest rising and falling dramatically as he shovels the pizza into his mouth, he's sure his eyes are watering, but he's not going to blink and let the water pooling at the corners pour out.

" Are you done...?"

He wipes his hands, already dirty from touching his face. He also takes the food and wipes the sweat from his forehead as if he was the one who had surgery.

"Mmm hmm, unless something else hurts... Your leg?"

" I think it's okay, so far."

Faux replies with his mouth full as the two of them bathe in the night breeze that makes him sneeze. He is sensitive to the flu, although he wants to think that now that his body works differently, that is different too. Although starvin might be the cause of the coldness.

He softly elbowed Felix without looking at him.

Felix looks at him out of the corner of his eye too, shoving him with his fist without saying anything.

The sounds of the city are on the contrary calming, it is the ecosystem in which both have always lived, under the empty sky, the moon and a light pole making loud electrical noises when it flickers, it seems to want to die but it never does.

" What were you doing here? Were you trying to skate?"

Although it was obvious, he doesn't know how to approach the topic, he scratches his beard with a lost look.

" Eh... Yes, but it's kinda hard.."

He mutters sitting up and moving towards a bathroom. He was shirtless and well, he's not going to be like that all night either.

" I didn't know you had bought me clothes."

When he leaves, an outfit similar to the usual one but with different colors is worn on his body, his shirt is slightly tighter to his skin.

Stings on the back of his neck cool Felix’ thoughts. Yes, the truth is that he didn't want to think about all the money he had spent on supporting a guy with dubious intentions for whom he has complicated feelings.

He stands up and looks at Faux for a while. Normally, the same clothes he wears fit him, but since he hasn't eaten, he overestimates how small his clothes must be. He doesn't look bad anyway. He sticks out his bottom lip and raises his eyebrows as he nods his head in approval.

" Not the same color, but hey..."

He gets on his skateboard waiting for the other to follow him at a slow pace.

" Muscular atrophy." Felix says, not sure at all what it means, at least he sounds a little intelligent. "You will surely recover as soon as you return to doing it regularly."

" It's a little tight."

He pulls on his shirt, especially on his stomach, but the more he pays attention to it, the more uncomfortable it becomes, so he simply takes out the little wheels of the skates.

" I don't think so, I think Flesh Prince gave me damaged parts on purpose, I've been doing these things since day one and it seems like they only rust more."

Faux climbs on a railing, tries to do the same thing as always, but ends up face down on the pavement.

Felix turns momentarily to look at him, thinking that maybe he looked funny as if he were wearing a little boy's clothes, but in reality it even suits his skinny body.

" Nah, it doesn't look ba- "

He chokes on his words as he sucks in a sharp breath, kicking his skateboard away with his heart in his mouth to crouch next to Faux. It's not your thing to worry so much either, a rule of skating that no one says is that if someone falls you must remain neutral, you avoid embarrassment for beginners and the many falls they will suffer. But Faux used to skate better than him...

" Well, now, give me your hand. You’re fine."

The blonde boy’s nose is red, it's bleeding a little, but it's not broken, it just hurts, he turns around before being approached by Felix strangely worried about him. Since all this garbage ended he is just uncharacteristically worried about him when he had never cared that much before, and that's when reality hits, and he is a little sorry for having let himself be wrapped up in a pizza.

The memory of being alive makes the moment a little bitter.

" Why do you worry about me? "

Faux clutches his stomach, he asks bitterly. Is it because he made a "good" decision he didn't even ask for?

" I'm fine."

He wipes his nose with his glove and doesn't take his hand, he stands up as best he can and combing his hair as he continues trying.

The question chills Felix, his fingers tense, focused on looking down, silent. He came looking for him because he is worried, but he was worried that he would run away, betray him again or hurt someone, he is worried because he feels responsible for his presence in the world, he feels worried because he is no longer someone he knows He's not even your friend. Maybe he's just being selfish.

"Yes, you're fine, that's what I said."

He picks up the skateboard from him taking a quicker step, circling the court.

" I could help you recover if you would let me."

" How... How would you do it exactly? "

He goes slowly, just sliding on his skates, looking aimlessly, unconsciously following him, replicating what they did when they were together talking in search of any strange place to make new graffiti.

“ You are not Flesh Prince.”

“ Jesus, marry him if you want.”

Felix immediately retorts with passive anger.

He skates on his back, he wants to see what he does and the only thing he sees are the footsteps of someone who falls so much that he forgets how to really skate. Like those old people who don't want to get out of bed anymore because they are afraid. They had given up.

“ I don't know, Faux, I don't know how long you were out there connected to a machine, I lost many of my memories, I could show you.”

Faux gives him the most murderous look he has, squeezing his eyes shut in anger as he tries not to fall again.

“ It's not for you to get angry either.”

Something he had forgotten, something about the past that has repercussions in the present.

“ ... “

He remains silent about that, the truth is that he doesn't want to accept, but he doesn't want to decline the proposal either, that is, Yes, he needs help, but he would prefer it not to be from him, or he doesn't know, he doesn't really know much.

Felix turns away very purposefully to ignore the unfortunate way in which he knows he's looking at him.

“ You are obsessed with yourself.”

He recognizes his foolishness.

“ I'm going to come here at 10 at night in this same place.”

Finally, he is able to perform a combo, but not before feeling something thunder, plus one metal piece colliding with another, although he does not avoid biting his lip in worry, waiting to see how his pants get stained with oil... but it never appears, and he feels relief.

“ And are you going to bring more food like that? “

He asks after moving to a tube next to him, glancing at it out of the corner of his eye, contemplating the offer he's just been given.

He lowers his head while picking up the skateboard.

“ Uhm... Yes, I think so.”

Felix wants to go, being with Faux now has a time limit.

He picks up his things, including the empty box and the repair tools, and walks to the drainage tunnel through which he had come.

“ Try not to break anything, Okay?”

He nods his head without looking at him too much, still trying to do his things, placing the headphones on his head, and starting to follow the rhythm.

He didn't break anything, or hurt himself more, well, he fell a few times but nothing that wouldn't heal in a few days. He thinks all night about his interactions with Felix, both past and present, and he deeply regrets having been saved by him because he can't be grateful.

He lies down on one of the old sofas, with the soft sound of music playing, they had forgotten to turn off the stereo, so he takes advantage of it and the breeze that falls gently on him. He feels the need to cover his robotic parts to prevent them from rusting.

On Felix's way home, he had forgotten his headphones somewhere in his house. He walks in silence without hurrying too much while he watches the moon following him, thinking about the complicated feeling that the guy manages to plant in his head, leaving him silent just like he is.

Chapter Text

The hideout remained quiet for a very short time. The younger ones like Solace were an enigma, sneaking into small corners where he could occasionally startle them. No one knew if he slept there or something, and Bel followed him because she liked to climb up high to get a signal and turn on the radio. She didn't paid much attention to anything in her trance, but she stopped when she found a sleeping guy on one of the couches who was shifting uncomfortably, perhaps due to the cold; she covered him with the splayed blanket that laid on the floor.

Felix and Tryce were older, of course, which meant they had to work in the early hours of the day, and on the weekends, they usually met to complain about whatever had happened to them, and then they went their separate ways.

Felix mainly wasted time elsewhere. Today, in particular, he wanted to catch up with one of the DOT EXE guys who zipped around the mall. It annoyed him not being able to break the record he set, and he was also curious because he seemed quite indifferent to his refugee killing his boss.

"What a nuisance XD, I almost got hungry waiting up here."

Ugh...

Back at the hideout, a gentle warmth covered Faux.
Where does it come from?
Oh, there's already sunlight, but how come he didn't wake up?
Well, there's... something blocking the sun from hitting him directly. And this blanket... Felix had been here?

But he didn't hear him, let alone see him, and he didn't wake him up either. So he got up a little apprehensively, looking for the crew members, expecting a stone or something, but all he saw was Bel above him with her phone, seemingly looking at him from the corner of her eye.

He took the blanket, folded it, and gently placed it back on the couch. The wheels of his skates came out, and he quickly moved away from the place. But this time, not to his hideout. Instead, after putting on a cap and changing his clothes (he found one of Felix's shirts), he ventured out onto the street, knowing he was an enemy of virtually everyone he knew and probably wanted.

What did girls like? Especially Bel, who was almost always on her phone.
Is it what she likes? Well, he went to a store that sells accessories and phone cases and found himself overwhelmed.

"Good afternoon; is it a gift for your girlfriend?"

"Uh... yeah, her phone opens and closes, and it's, um, red."

The shopkeeper was Asian and horrifyingly pleasant. She offered him a million things, and he opted to buy keychains and a new case, as well as some sweets that looked quite feminine and Japanese. They were blue because her clothes and most of her makeup were blue. Oh, and also a gloss that the store lady insisted he should get, all in a Christmas bag that he painted with his orange spray paint, with a big "B" on it.

He ran out of money.

He swore he wouldn't be grateful out of spite, that he wouldn't get involved with anyone, but he knew he couldn't live in solitude for long, much less not appreciate the gesture of being saved from a cold.

He climbed up to where he had seen her, and she was still there, on her phone. He left the gift bag without saying much.

Bel had gotten caught up in a text argument that had absorbed her for hours. Felix had asked her for advice on how to achieve combos, which had snowballed into a somewhat silly verbal fight between DotExe and her. He needed her help to come up with some "internet words." She took it so seriously that when she put her phone aside with some frustration, the blonde locks that peeked out from under the blanket had disappeared.

"Damn... Tryce is going to kill me! Solace! He was supposed to help me."

She gently hits her head with her fist.

"Ugh, how clumsy..."

The scare doesn't last long. The guy appears in front of her with a bag and at least 50% of Felix's clothes. Bel gets up.

"Oh... phew... I didn't have to go chase you. Where did you go? You are too quiet; you scared me."

"I went... uh, to a store," Faux replied, not expecting her to engage in conversation, which made him a bit nervous. He could feel the heat in his face from embarrassment.

"And I had to wear Felix's clothes. Don't tell him I wore his clothes."

Although he was pretty sure she was around his age, he felt like she was older or something, and it made him a little scared.

Bel mumbled, deep in thought about everything she had just heard. She struggled to ignore Felix's notifications, closed her phone, and put it in her pocket, processing their conversation.

"Hmm... No, I'm pretty sure Felix's clothes would fit you just fine. You two look almost identical, and I don't think he'd mind."

Apart from the fact that Felix wore oversized clothes, she scratched her chin, still pondering what to say next.

"Let me know if you're going out!"

Faux had already launched himself through some pipes and raised his hand when she said that. He doesn't have to announce every time he was going out. They dont own him just because they forced him to live.

He entered one of the bathrooms, removed Felix's clothes that still smelled like him, and stared at them for a couple of minutes before pressing them against his face; they smell like wet rubble and food mixed with powdered detergent, the kind that you get in a huge bag, it was a little stiff noticeably lacking fabric softener.

He emerged in his regular outfit, which had small bloodstains on it, and now he thought most of his clothes were stained. He would have to go to the laundromat but the thought of a simple task had become overwhelming. Anyway, he needed money for those things, and he remembered that his dad used to manage all his money - ‘for safety reasons’. However, he probably thought Faux was dead and was likely looking for him to put him in jail or something.

Anyway.

Faux didn't have any strange encounters with Solace and Bel, so he felt somewhat confident about practicing a bit, gently.

And really, the people he thought would have something against him were Vinyl and Tryce... or so he thought. He didn't want to expose himself to any of them.

When Bel turns, the only thing she sees again is the bag that he had carried. She lifts it, looking around.

"Faux?"

He had already distanced himself, but she can still see him in the hideout. She checks inside the bag for a few seconds, wearing a wide grin and emitting a variety of squeals in reaction to something very cute.

Hey, the guy wasn't so bad.

Felix returns to the hideout quite late, and it's starting to get dark. He's covered in small wounds and scratches, walking alongside a guy slightly taller than him with a Cyberhead that he taps like a car's hood, while the other guy gives him a pat on the back.

"Hey! Guess who's joining us."

Tryce comes down to welcome him, exchanging handshakes, making his somewhat useless and short journey around the hideout, just as he did with Felix.

"What can I say? You put up a good fight! XD"

Tryce turns in his direction.

"We've got the best, right?"

Felix smiles, flattered, but he doesn't know how to respond; he's not that good.

He takes out his phone, checking the time under the wall of texts he had sent today.

"Oop! One second, I'm calling it a day."

He doesn't wait for a response before launching himself from the platform. Of course, he has somewhere to be before the sun completely disappears.

"Hey… see you later..."

He hears Tryce's voice, though it sounds like a sad, distant murmur.

He just hopes the food hasn't turned into mush on the way to the courtyard.

At some point, he had seen those distinctive hairstyles of people he didn't want to encounter, and like a wounded rat, he retreated to the familiar hole he had created for himself.

In the darkness of the night, there was no accompanying light. He had searched his robotic parts, if he had any incorporated, but it seemed the radio was the only gift they wanted to give him.

However, the sound of a skateboard approaching makes him stand up and walk as fast as he can.

It sounded like Felix. He kept his promise. His stomach grumbles.

"Did the cops catch you; why are you looking so messed up?"

Felix had forgotten that his body was in bad shape. He rubs one side of his face, trying to clean the crust of dried blood.

"It wasn't me; DotExe ended up catching the police's attention while I was playing along."

He takes his backpack from behind him, which he had been carrying since he now used a booster pack.

"The son of a bitch is very good at getting on the police's nerves; he's a bullet magnet."

The blonde man feels a slight ache in his stomach, knowing that he killed that guy's boss. He's not one to apologize or anything, and he doesn't want to either.

"I can imagine."

He sits at the edge. The past few days, the moon had been bright enough to let Felix see what he was doing clearly. And he was surely going to let him see those blade-like eyes that stared at him with the Boosters.

"So, they finally convinced you to use thrusters, huh? It seems whatever they told you convinced you more than I did."

He makes a slight pause, clearing his throat, wanting to change the subject after throwing a stone.

"Did you bring dinner?"

A murmur blew with the wind.

"I have to use it."

Something in Felix’s mind makes him nauseous at the idea of falling; he felt a bit atrophied. He's convinced it's all in his head. He had accepted that he was a new person, but he's not sure being someone different means he's better. He doesn't really feel like the big deal everyone says he used to be.

He scratches the back of his neck and gets a ringing in his ears, as if overthinking his past problems causes him a headache since he became and let go of Red.

"But the guy doesn't care that his boss is dead; it seemed like it was more of an annoyance to him not being in a crew."

He immediately tries to make up for his lack of tact by taking out Chinese food from a Styrofoam container. Inside, although it's become a jumbled mess, there's fried rice and sweet and sour chicken. He also takes out ice cream because the soda wouldn't have survived the journey, and he would have been sad to waste food.

He forgot about his marital problems with Felix and took the Styrofoam container that was dripping with the orange sauce he loved so much. He couldn't even hide his excitement, let alone the pleasure, when he put the first piece in his mouth.

"Thanks."

He says with his mouth full, his elbows resting on his legs.

He doesn't finish processing what he said, sitting there as a progress bar loads in his head. How quickly it was to buy Faux, but he wouldn't feel bad. In a way, it felt like feeding a stray cat.

He gives himself the freedom to serve food on the lid and tears it off to enjoy his portion with the same vigor as the guy.

"It's good."

But he barked like a dog.

"REALLY good."

Howled like a puppy.

Faux adds as he fills his mouth with food, feeling that it tastes better than ever, his palate appreciates everything he puts in his mouth more.

"Do you have an extra skateboard? I'm a bit tired of rollerblades."

The truth is, he had broken a wheel from his rollerblades.

"I'll lend you mine; I wouldn't mind sitting around being lazy after breaking my ribs."

Beanie man says, clutching his side with anger; those stupid cops and their rubber bullets. He leans the board on a rail.

"Here, Flesh Prince gave them to me."

From his pants pocket, he takes out a crushed box of medications that eases the pain of his fleshy parts attached to huge pieces of metal.

"Take one every eight hours; they make you a bit sleepy, but you won't feel any pain."

And he finishes the plate they gave him, wiping his mouth with the glove and putting one foot on the skateboard, which he looks at with some... um, tension.

It had been a long time since he used Felix's skateboard, at least consciously. It felt like his feet were still marked there.

He launches himself without thinking, it feels smooth, the wheels a bit tighter than he likes, knowing that's how Felix does it, and curses at him a bit as he wobbles.

He manages to do more than he expected, although he ends up falling on the concrete a couple of times.

Felix clutched the medication in his hand and stuffed it in his pocket.

"You're not doing it wrong, but go with more force; it's less smooth than rollerblades. It's also easier to turn if you lift up on the back wheels."

He gestures with his fingers as if they were his legs and stands up, offering his arm.

Faux looks at him for seconds that seem endless, his arm close to him, and he with his eager fingers waiting for him to say yes to take it.

And he does when he loses his balance, almost reflexively rather than willingly, but he couldn't remove it anymore; he fidgets and clenches his hand, looking away.

"I was never that good at skateboarding."

As he takes his arm, Felix walks alongside him at his pace.

"I never wanted to do so much aggressive rollerblading because I didn't want to break my balls on a rail." He says amidst laughter, glancing sideways at the relaxing sound of the gravel under the wheels. "I never told you because you would get cocky."

He supposes that between them, there's no one who wins over the other for being stubborn.

"I imagined."

Faux’s meat hand gripped his arm tightly, the robotic one rested because he didn't know how to control its strength well; he could easily kill someone with a punch if he wanted to.

"I'm a bit scared to use skateboards; rollerblades are more flexible, it's like, your feet, you know."

He sniffles.

"They give you more security."

Felix definitely doesn't understand it; all he feels on rollerblades is that he'd probably break an ankle. His skateboard had left bruises on his shins, but he had never broken anything riding it.

"Hey, are you sick?"

There wasn’t time to reply, Faux missed a step, falling backwards, taking Felix with him, flattening poor Faux like a tortilla with half of his chest where his broken rib is.

The air leaves him without being able to shout much more than just inhaling forcefully.

" Felix..."

He says in pain, feeling tears welling up in his eyes; he doesn't know if he broke something, but he definitely knocked the wind out of him with his elbow. The sound of the skateboard rolling continues until it hits a wall.

Everything hurts, he had felt very clearly how their head had bounced on the floor, hearing a sharp sound as they tried to identify what hurt more.

He clenches his eyes shut and grips his shoulders; the smell of his hair overwhelms him, and for a moment, he stays still. He pushes him with passional soreness.

His ear gets wet with Faux's tears and his own; he doesn't even realize that his bald head is getting cold because his beanie ended up who knows where.

"Ugh... wait..."

He wants to stand up, barely managing to sit on his legs with his skull ringing like a bell.

"Everything intact?"

Immediately, he pats his robotic arm and leg.

He looks at him from below; he was the one with broken ribs. Faux doesn't understand why he's suddenly so kind, he used to be kind before, but not as much as he was at that moment.

He nods quickly, in a "Yes, yes, of course" while he keeps squeezing his eyes shut and holds onto his hands.

"We should rest."

Felix said. Although they had just started.

He lies down on the floor almost immediately, closing his eyes while resting his leg on Faux's stomach. When he lies on the floor, he lets out a pained groan as a punishment for breathing and moving without thinking. His arm has a white mark from the pressure of his robotic hand with a red halo around it.

The moon passes overhead with an unusual stillness for the city, except for a few high school students yelling and dissolving into silly laughter. No one comes around here since they filled the alley with tin police cars. Everything smells like blood, sweat, oil, and piss.

"We're getting old."

Faux says, still feeling sore, with the weight of Felix's leg on top of him, where he places his hands, one warm where blood flows and the other cold and metallic.

"And it stinks here."

How had he endured sleeping in those places for so long was beyond him. It's almost impossible to stay still on the concrete, although it's not the first time he's slept on the floor.

"It's fine; I don't have work tomorrow."

Felix states calmly.

"What do you do for a living?"

Faux asks, remembering that he needs money to do some things that... He wants to do, mainly to wash his clothes.

"Well, I doubt they can hire me knowing who I am."

Felix gently hits his arm.

"Don't be stupid; they pay anyone to sell insurance for Cyberheads."

Although, of course, it would be ironic if he worked in that field. Slowly, a guilt seeps in that chills his chest, that timer running out faster when he's with Faux than on other days. But he can't run because the bones and the weight of the rust are coagulated blood from an internal wound that he can't heal. Yes, he's old; he's not sure how he feels about still being alive. Faux’s condition is contagious.

"You should properly sleep, shouldn't you?... Take a good rest."

He takes a deep breath, letting his eyes wander to the sky.

"How's your old man?"

"Uh... I don't think it's a good idea for him to know I'm alive."

Faux looks visibly uncomfortable at the thought of him again, makes a small grimace as he returns the hit.

"And I'm sure if he finds out, he'll send the entire police force after me."

He sighs, somewhat pained, not just about the topic of his father but also his robotic parts that sours that symbiosis.

"I should work to get a decent place to sleep; the couch is no longer an option."

Of course Felix had forgotten his father still doesn't know he's alive despite everything. He sighs again.

"I assume you wouldn't want to stay at Tryce's either."

He stands up with a few suspicious creaks and others that were already routine.

"Come on, let's go back another day."

"No, I don't think he'd want me at his house either."

Faux mutters as he stands up, hearing Felix's creaks and recommending him to go to the doctor at least. His back cracks under both his hands; it had been quite enjoyable, actually. He ate well, and besides being crushed, it was a good time.

The two of them return to the hideout together, leaning on each other from time to time. He wants to pick up the clothes he left hanging inside the garage. He assumes Faux would be happy to find that there's no one there except Dot Exe, who rarely rests and makes really sure you know that he doesn't need to sleep or in his words:

"Sleep is for kids, lol."

Stating blatantly looking at Faux.

"Your parts are messed up. Hey, if you're good to me, I could get you better scrap."

He gulps air when the ball head stands in front of him; his eyes widen, and he pulls Felix's shirt a bit.

"Uh..."

Yes, well, he had literally killed his boss, like, he did the most punishable thing among everyone literally. His head tries to quickly process what he's going to say, but he blanks out.

As he reflects on it, he never really considered whether Faux was particularly bad at speaking, especially now that he's become public enemy number one.

"For now, when you're not around the other Dot Exe, I suppose it's more appropriate to call you Cue, right?" Dot Exe murmurs in his robotic voice, followed by a mischievous chuckle.

"Whatever, Mr. Felix.” he bats his hand “And you? You're not above shady business; we'll talk later, kid," Dot Exe - now Cue - points at Faux before departing.

With the same surprised expression, Faux turns to Felix, his stomach aching.

"I think I want to throw up," he mutters, clutching his stomach as he leans on Felix's shoulder. The pain is unexpected; he didn't anticipate Dot Exe speaking to him, let alone suggesting they talk later. Perhaps Dot Exe held back his anger because Felix was present?

"Mr. Felix," he says after the nausea subsides.

Faux grimaces and shakes his head.

"You can throw up in my bathroom. Walk." Felix slaps his back weakly.

"In your bathroom?" Faux questions, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

Chapter Text

There are no more explanations; it's just Faux walking alongside Felix like in the old days. They kick rocks and Faux puts on his cap when they spot a police car. Sometimes he thinks that wearing a robot head would completely change his life.

The cold weather is the reason he doesn't protest going to Felix's place that night. His throat has been scratchy, and he's a magnet for colds. It's okay to accept Felix's sudden kindness today.

Things have felt different since pizza day.

Faux can't tell if it's because he genuinely likes pizza or if it's the memory of that specific pizza. Felix notices his melancholy, and he can't deny his feelings. He missed Felix and everything that had happened hurt. The memories still make his stomach churn.

As he snaps out of his mental bubble, Felix is already opening the apartment door after a cat darts out of the trash bags that had spilled outside.

"You're cleaner than before," Faux remarks. He remembers the place being dirtier and grayer, but now it feels like the years have taken a toll on it. The years forgive, but they don't forget.

Felix is falling apart halfway through the door, cursing about living on the third floor while carrying Faux like a dog with a broken leg. They dodge animals coming out of the neighboring apartment with a hole in the door.

This has been his home since he dropped out of university at 20. He had to find this place to avoid problems with his parents. He was surprised at first that it was vacant during the time he was gone, but given the state of the streets outside, he thought they should pay him to live there.

His piece isn't so bad. As he steps inside, the constant noise of the refrigerator fans and the perpetually half-open bathroom door greet him. He struggles with the broken doorknob, unable to close the door properly. In the cramped space, his knees barely fit with the bathtub directly in front of him.

The living room is adorned with a zebra-patterned rug, and there's a sunken red armchair that seems to have molded itself to his shape. Exhausted, he collapses onto the armchair, releasing Faux.

Faux lands beside Felix, both of them taking deep breaths. They watch their chests rise and fall in the dim light from an old, tacky lamp in the corner of the living room.

"Can I take a shower?" he asks, wrinkling his nose at his own scent—a mix of sweat and oil. They assured him that his cyber parts could get wet, and he's willing to risk it because he can't stand himself anymore.

"You can," Felix mutters with his eyes closed, dozing off. He breathes with a wheeze, and it's quite loud.

"But... What are you going to do about your cyber parts? We should have asked Cue..."

"I think it'll be fine," Felix responds. Suddenly, he's up, in the kitchen, the noise of adhesive tape sticking bags together filling the air. "Okay," the blonde mumbles.

He removes his shirt, a routine he's done many times before. As he stretches his arm, it creaks a bit. It's then that he reflects on what Cue told him, wondering how true it could be.

"You're going to run out of trash bags," he remarks, holding the tape.

"It's whatever; you can pay me back later."

Felix moves closer, attaching the bags to the part of his arm where his human skin ends. It's still held together with staples and sheer willpower, and Felix runs the spiral roll over it as if he were bagging a delicate item, giving it gentle pats.

"Oh, damn, your leg... Your leg, huh... Fix it in the bathroom and let me know when you're done," Felix says, concern in his voice.

Faux nods in response, raising a finger in approval, and heads to the bathroom, which disappointingly turns out to be quite small.

Afterward, he takes a couple of hits, carefully wrapping himself all over. It didn't turn out as well as his arm, but hey, it's saved from water and possible rust.

The water that falls is cold, so cold that while he's showering, he starts sneezing. Well, if he gets sick, at least he'll sleep warmly, and that's what gives him hope for whatever is going to happen to him.

Meanwhile, Felix is tempted to throw himself on the couch and go into a coma, but he resists the idea because he needs to fold clothes. They've been sitting there for weeks, and they're probably not as clean anymore. He carries them in a cloth bag, and as he takes them out into the light, he sees that they're terribly wrinkled. He picks up a shirt, brings it to his face, and sniffs it like a true man.

It doesn't smell bad, so he continues folding them one by one until he comes across a piece that makes him hesitate. It doesn't smell bad either, but he sniffs it a second time and recognizes that hint of car oil and the scent of black gel that stiffens his hair. He himself doesn't use gel, of course, but the guy in the bathroom does.

He walks to the hallway to ask, a sliver of light burning an image into his retinas, one of the naked guy. He walks very fast with his heart in his throat and continues folding more clothes.

...

"He's still so skinny," Felix thinks to himself, a hint of concern in his mind.

Faux lets the water fall on his face for a few minutes; it's so noisy, the rusty showerhead, and the water hitting the plastic bags on top of him.

"It's so cold," he murmurs, turning off the tap and taking Felix's damp towel. He didn't ask for permission, but it's not the first time they've shared a towel.

"Hey, Felix... Do you have any clothes you could lend me?" he asks, with the towel covering his waist, his hair long enough to rest on his ear, and the wrinkled trash bags piled up in a corner.

Felix had laid down on the rug to fold underwear, where he was getting very sleepy. When Faux comes out of the shower, he almost bumps into the coffee table. He had hardly ever seen the guy's hair combed differently; his scars resemble cracks. He's not sure why, but pressure builds up in his tear ducts. Faux almost looks like a ghost.

Oh, yeah, the clothes. From the pile, he chooses an oversized white shirt (the one with his scent of greasy food) and some black exercise shorts, ignoring the underwear issue because most of his boxers have holes.

"We should go down to the laundromat in the morning. Some pervy old guy watches over it."

"A dirty old man," Faux chuckles as he takes the clothes, pretending he never wore the ones given to him, wondering if Felix had noticed, though he didn't wear them for very long.

He heads back into the bathroom and puts on everything he was given. The shirt covers his thighs, and the shorts reach just above his knee. With this clothing, the metallic pieces are more evident; they look sturdy and uncomfortable, and they were, often painful and sometimes too heavy for him.

Faux’s nose is red; it's not as cold inside the room as it is outside, but for some reason, it's warmer. He sits next to Felix to help him arrange his clothes.

"And... how much does it cost?" he asks.

Faux has such a compact silhouette that Felix almost thinks he didn't put on the shorts, but then he walks on his human leg with toned muscles. He sees him moving around, looking healthy and vibrant, and Felix’s stomach feels light, filled with a full meal. Folding clothes next to him, they radiate a fictitious warmth.

"The washer works with cents, it costs 2 dollars, and the dryer 3," Félix replies.

He's a bit foolish, but his heart feels full.

"Can you lend me 5 dollars?" Faux chuckles after that.

His hair is drying and curls a bit, draping over his ears as he tells Félix how he fought with a rat over the couch. He'll never understand when they grew to the size of a cat, but they became friends after those first two aggressive nights.

"By the way, Bel is very cute," he recalls the little episode he had with her.

"She covered me with a blanket, and I spent my last bills on things for her."

Felix takes the clothes into his room and stores them reluctantly. When he returns, he lies down on the couch, dragging two blankets with him and tossing the other one on the recliner.

"I saw her!" he exclaims, genuinely surprised. "A few days ago, she was a bit distant because of her university results. It was nice to see her back to her normal self."

That kindness was something he expected from Bel, but Faux felt complicated, never a people pleaser, the aloof, mysterious, and distant Faux.

"Is she going to college? Good for her. I remember I went for a couple of semesters because my dad made me."

Faux had studied law, learned enough to shout legal things at the police, and then dropped out when he realized he couldn't stand wearing suits and ties. His father was mad at him for a while but eventually accepted it. He would have wanted to study arts.

"I hope she liked what I got her. How old is she?"

"She's studying graphic design, I think," Felix says, putting his hands on his chest and looking at the damp spots in the corners of the ceiling. "She's very talented; she just has trouble paying attention. She's your age; she seemed happy."

He ponders how the three of them ended up like this. It seems like it was just a few days ago that Dj Cyber, Faux, and he entered the same graffiti competition in high school. At least Dj Cyber ended up becoming a doctor.

"What you did was good."

"I thought she was older."

She has a motherly air, which scares him a bit. Well, he doesn't know; she makes him comfortable even though she's quite clumsy.

He takes a deep breath when Félix says the last part, and his cheeks blush. He turns to look at Félix with a face that says "What?"

"Nah, but she only has eyes for her phone," Felix replies, his eyelids heavy, closing them with painful laziness, repeating almost incoherent things that Tryce had told him when they first met.

"Don't go into my room," he mumbles as he turns around on the couch cushions. There was a sofa bed. A little less comfortable than his chair but better than sleeping on the floor.

"No... I don't want to see... your stuff."

Faux had pulled out the sofa bed earlier; he remembered that much. He was so tired that he didn't pay much attention to what Félix said afterward. They live by their luck, and if something happens, it'll be a problem for their future selves.

Heavy and tired sighs can be heard before wrapping himself up in the blanket, like a poorly wrapped burrito.

Tonight, Felix sleeps peacefully.

The three of them exist in a blank void inside your head, and slowly, your surroundings passively fill with opaque buildings. They are behind the concrete wall of a dumpster behind the school. You have long hair that hangs beneath your cap, carrying your backpack with a broken strap and your skateboard. Not the one you have right now, but one with a drawing of a girl that you find incredibly sexy.

Inside the dumpster, behind a wall of car bodies and a podium made of speakers and a shipping container, an old woman stands, announcing the rules of the event. Of course, you hadn't lugged around spray cans all day for nothing.

Everything is going great, leaving behind other people from school with an indifferent look. You're here to have fun, and so are they. A couple of falls on your board and lots of laughter. The only one right behind you is the blurry figure of a little DJ Cyber, providing music as well as trailing you in the competition.

His face turns into a polygonal origami of shapes. No, wait, someone else is trailing you. A guy with hair so slicked back that the sun reflects off the gel.

"Hey! I just have to tell you, there's someone out there with lice, just a warning," you said honestly, but he took it as a challenge to compete with you and DJ Cyber with anger in his throat, the other kids muttering nonsense and gossiping about having seen the guy at the police station getting out of an officer's car, and you couldn't resist the curiosity.

They fought and sabotaged each other a bit. In the end, when it turned out that everyone had won the competition, they were kicked out for sabotage.

They walked cautiously without saying anything to each other. But at the end of the concrete hill, their glances met, laughing at the foolishness that had blinded them. Your heart feels full.

The sunlight blinds you, and you can't see the indifferent-faced blond guy.

Hey, do you have an itchy head?

Felix wakes up sweating, touching and scratching his head, realizing his lack of hair. He sighs heavily on his way to the shower.

"I think I'm going to talk to Cue today," Faux says to himself as he prepares breakfast. It seemed like Félix wasn't coming home too late from work, so he took it upon himself to sneak into his kitchen and make an omelet.

"Last night, the pain in my arm kept me from sleeping. I think something got stuck in the flesh."

He's absorbed in Felix’s scent, with his hair tied back using a hairband he found lying around, probably from some girl Félix brought home and forgot. Well, it's his now.

There are small bags under his eyes, but he arranges breakfast nicely and waits for him at the small table with his face in his hands, dozing off a bit.

Surprisingly, when Felix leaves the bathroom, his back doesn't feel as messed up. He's fresh in sporty shorts and a tank top with a different cap than the one he usually wears because yesterday's is crumpled and doesn't smell so great. He tossed it in his room, and when he closes the door with a lock, a scent floods his senses.

Leaning on the counter, he drags his flip-flops across the floor.

"Good morning," he says more because he wants to know what's going on than as a simple courtesy.

"Good morning," he startles at his appearance while he's lost in thought.

"Uhm... I made breakfast. I hope you don't mind," he says, turning in his chair. The food on the plate is still steaming, and his stomach starts to growl.

Can he cook? Felix had never assumed the guy was so homely because he was rarely at home.

"What a blessing," he says sincerely, taking his hand and bending down as if he had just offered him a million dollars and eternal life.

Faux feels a slight warmth in his cheeks; come on, it's not that big a deal, anyone can cook something like this, right? His father had taught him to be self-sufficient, not in the way he would have liked, but he did, and the old man didn't seem to want him to die of hunger, so that's a point in his favor.

"Don't be silly, sit down and eat."

He lets himself be carried away so much by everything that he almost doesn't realize that he's also selling himself for food. Who cares, he walks to the refrigerator for a half-empty box of mango orange juice and gives Faux a plastic glass with Simpsons drawings on it; he takes a glass one for himself.

He takes small bites because it would be a waste to swallow everything at once. He has been living alone for so long that he had forgotten what it feels like to have someone else cook for him. Even his mother wasn't that attentive to him.

Faux continues with a terrible migraine; his head hurts, and as he chews, his head rests on one of his arms while he drinks the juice, not really looking at anything in particular, getting lost in the morning sounds of cutlery clinking against plates.

"Are you going to work today?" The sounds of stainless steel utensils fill their silence as they eat, particles of sunlight dust float through the kitchen.

He hesitates for a few seconds. Did he have to work today? He grabs his phone heavily to check, but the date shows that it's Saturday.

"No, it's the weekend. Why? Do you want to go out?"

Felix opens his eyes in surprise; what do you mean it's the weekend?

"Oh, no, well, I don't know, I didn't know it was the weekend."

Faux finishes the last bites and then wipes his mouth with a napkin.

"But I think I have to go talk to Cue today, even though it turns my stomach a bit."

"Still, I literally killed one of them," he says, and then there's a sharp silence. He rubs his face and gets up, picking up the plates and taking the last sip of juice from his glass.

"Anyway... I'm going, I hope I don't run into anyone else."

He says, turning on the faucet and washing the dishes.

"By the way, can I use more of your clothes?"

Felix's brain suddenly wants to escape from his skull. He stands up; he's so good at muddling his thoughts that he forgets he's a murderer, that he can't escape that even if he closes the door and forgets things.

"Yes, take the one that's folded in the bathroom."

The man says flatly, grabbing his backpack and tossing the leftover food in the singular trash bag without much care. He takes the skateboard and quickens his pace.

"Lock the door when you leave, I'll probably see you in the park tonight..."

He stays in the doorway, static massaging his thoughts.

"I trust you."

Chapter Text

"Of course, I can lock the door."

Faux mutters as he smiles half-heartedly, takes a towel in his hands and walks to the bathroom. He wrapped his cyber parts in plastic bags as he did the day before and stayed under the shower for a few extra minutes.

An old cap, an oversized shirt, and shorts that he had to put on with a belt were what he managed to wear from Felix's clothing. Felix is significantly bigger than him, not because he's fat or anything like that (although he does have a bit of a belly), he's just broader than him.

He uses shortcuts he knows to get there quickly, he goes into places where he knows they won't see him so easily, and he reaches the spot using a light post.

Cue was on the roof, and on nights when he's alone doing nothing, the breeze leaves a layer of dew on him that he dries off in the mornings while playing Tetris in his head.

"You said I had to be good to you to get good parts, right?"

Faux chimes in a loud voice as he catches the skateboard and adjusts the cap on his head.

"Define 'good.'"

Of course, something always ends up interrupting Cue when he's about to finish.

"Ahh shit! It's the little flesh and bone guy. Or what's left of him, XD."

He climbs down, grabbing onto the ramp to cushion his descent and face him head-on.

"That's what I said. I'm bored, and you don't have anything better to do. If you can keep up."

Faux's face is sweaty, and his nervous deadpan expression is uneasy.

"Uh, yeah."

"Although my limbs don't help much."

But damn it, he's going to try to keep up. From what he's heard, Felix was able to beat them all with his body, it must mean he has some muscle memory, Either way, he's as good as Felix and DJ Cyber are.

Cue stretches; Faux can't see it, but he's genuinely smiling.

"Come on, it's probably nothing one of the best can't handle."

The first matter he wants to take care of is his bros. After the boss died, they've been hiding somewhere, doing nothing with their lives, attending job behavior seminars.

He drags Faux to a school gym where they used to gather every weekend. Both hide behind a window, peeking out from time to time.

"Look, look, you probably recognize those faces, right?"

Faux rolls his eyes when he sees the others, well, he doesn't have another choice at this point urgently needing new means of moving correctly.

"And what do we have to do?"

A robotic snort manifests, Cue looks restless but in an energetic way, rubbing his hands.

"Let's liven up this seminar a bit."

He runs around the building, checking every window, eventually finding one with a folded paper wedge under the latch that lets them enter the school through a hallway full of lockers.

"Find the fire alarm for me, will you?"

Faux rolls his eyes again as he turns around and starts skateboarding around the place. Finding a fire alarm shouldn't be that hard.

...

It's been over 10 minutes, and he can't find the damn fire alarm.

Cue had stayed outside, scanning the area for the signal. Which happened to be the fire alarm.

"What's wrong with this kid? He probably never went to school, lol."

Inside, the seminar drones on about some nonsense about individual productivity.

He mumbles, vowing to himself that he'd leave him there if he arrived late.

Finally, Faux finds one literally on the other side of the building, which was quite dangerous, having only two of those for such a huge building is almost negligence.

He activates it while trying to get back as fast as he can to where he remembers Cue is, falling a couple of times, scraping his cheek due to his arm failing to react quickly.

"Now what, wait for a short circuit?"

The dry hiss of the sprinklers travels through the tubes in the ceiling. After a few seconds, the alarm goes off at full blast, and a shower of reddish water bursts from one after another until it reaches the gym where the chubby, foolish-looking lady from the seminar screams in terror. In fact, everyone sighs with a minimal level of amazement.

Everyone except Cue's bros, who lock eyes with him. Their electrical terminals are resistant to electricity, but their phones aren't.

"HEY! LET'S GO!"

Cue yells at the top of his lungs.

Faux is startled, "We're Leaving?" He starts running after him, but his arm and leg begin to spark.

"Wait! I'm malfunctioning!"

He cries out in desperation while literally dragging his leg and feeling his arm burning from the sparks.

Cue slips out the window, taking the man's hand and sliding down the hallway, only to realize that he's about to be caught again, facing a bunch of slackers. At that moment, he bends down, turning his back.

"Get on quickly."

He inhales air so hard that his lungs hurt. How had he fallen so low, needing people to help him move properly.

Faux walks defeatedly to settle on the other's back; it's a bit uncomfortable since Cue isn't that wide.

"I'm sorry..."

He says in an almost inaudible grunt, burying his face against Cue's back and resting his forehead against it.

"But literally, my parts aren't working."

As he gets up, Cue, the robot-headed guy, sighs as if displaying an exasperated *Game Over* screen from Pac-Man. He doesn't have a face, but if he did, a gesture of frustration would be drawn in his body language.

Sopping wet, water splashes beneath their sneakers.

"Stop complaining, idiot. You can move; you're not dead, Kek."

And the two of them continue a march of splashes.

"DOT EXE, stop, we want to talk to you."

One of his younger bros calls out in a calm tone.

But Cue is already heading out the window with the weight of the guy on his back.

"Hey, your bros are there."

Faux pats his back.

"Can't we stay here? Weren't we coming for them?"

Faux, with his metallic pieces sparking and them wanting to slide out of his flesh, knows that getting them wet was never an option, and the consequences are beginning to show.

But he can't help but think, what if they leave him here, and the police catch him? What if one of those cops is his dad? It would be good to see him.

"Come on. It's always good to see family."

The sound of Cue's mechanisms makes him sound like an overloaded laptop fan as he pants. Behind them, his bros stay behind, watching them go.

“ X[ Are you here to help me?! “

An ear-splitting siren from a fire truck sounds faster than he'd like. Luckily, an officer nearby makes gestures, pointing them both to surf through the bushes.

Faux fills his cheeks with air, embarrassed. He was looking out more for his own well-being than for Cue's, and well, it didn't matter.

He clings tightly to the other's body, feeling the emotional shame warming his face as the shots start echoing and Faux digs his fingers into Cue with force.

Shots, sirens, radios, and a familiar image crush his thoughts, memories, and senses, guilt screaming at him that it's his fault that they're now being attacked so violently. But also... also the adrenaline, the sweet and addictive adrenaline that compels him to get up and see how the bullets from the man who had taken care of him for many years of his life were hitting his robotic arm, which was creaking and falling apart.

Had he recognized him? Or had he been mistaken? Did he do it because he wanted to or because he didn't recognize him? Did he hate him? Was he a traitor? Was he... truly a killer?

A couple more bullets lodged in his healthy shoulder.

Behind them, bullets whizzed by and hit the metal of Cue's head. A couple of police officers futilely chased them on foot because the guy with an ace up his sleeve and a skateboard nearby immediately mounted up, leaving the officers clenching their fists in anger.

"CUEBALL, STOP RIGHT THERE!" It's being shouted from mouth to mouth, but the aforementioned is busy with something else.

“ Take off the cast; I need you to help me.”

“ Oh, yeah, I'm coming.”

And as if he had plucked it from his mental pool, Faux starts pounding on the cast. He wasn't sure if it was healed yet, but well, the other arm wasn't in good shape, and he could barely land well-aimed blows on the hard, white plaster, though at times he hit so hard that his bones hurt.

“ What if it's not healed yet?“

He asks, with a remaining piece.

While Faux was dealing with the cast, the robot head jumps, stumbles, and squeezes through a terribly small hole in a wire mesh that protects a park, fortunately losing the officers in the middle of a basketball game that a bunch of kids were playing. They're not capable of shooting a bunch of children in public, Cue thinks.

“ YOU'RE NOT HELPING.”

He complains amidst the crowd's shrill screams.

“ I'M TRYING.”

Faux finishes breaking the pieces of plaster to see that his hand is completely movable, well, now that part is fine.

“ WHAT DO I DO?”

From Cue's pocket to Faux's hand, a variety of things end up: mainly trash, nuts, broken washers, and a taser.

“ THROW WHATEVER WHEN THEY GET TOO CLOSE.“

But as soon as they leave that area with children, there's another bunch of people on benches listening to music on the radio at full volume.

I think I wanna live a little reckless
I think I wanna do it with you

He took everything he was given; a few things slipped from his hand, but overall, he collected everything in his shirt, making a small pouch with it.

“ Oh, I also have a can of paint.”

That, combined with the nuts and the pieces of your arm that you could easily remove, could give them a fighting chance against the police.

Bullets and chains were flying, Faux filled a few helmets with yellow spray paint and threw the metal pieces with the strength and little will he had left in his metal arm.

I wanna be bad til it feel good
I wanna see red til I'm blue

In fact, they're doing a good job, so much so that after a few minutes of frustration and an interrupted choreography when they accidentally threw some guys dancing breakdance in a group, the sound of the radios intercepts in Cue's head.

A cloud of yellow spray paint leaves a cop coughing and lying on the pile of scattered trash, slipping on the spray can cap.

“ HA! Nice!”

They head to an alley between two buildings that leads to the bus terminal. For a moment in slow motion, you can see the vicious chains nipping at their heels, but Cue has extended his hand to the back so that Faux could give him a high-five.

Faux felt a comforting sensation in his chest upon hearing the words and barely managed to high-five Cue, showing a smile as the adrenaline flowed.

"When I get a new arm, the two of us can kick those cops' asses."

Faux's robotic arm lay in pieces, completely unusable, with broken fragments and cables sticking out.

The red and blue sirens were left behind as, behind a window, a cop with disheveled blonde hair, white streaks, and a thick mustache smoked a cigarette carelessly, scattering ashes all over the car.

"Good shit, right?"

Cue was holding a sleek, white-painted steel armor that fit an inert arm. Meanwhile, Faux was setting up a stainless steel table in a warehouse, under the flickering white lights that seemed somewhat unpleasant.

The place seemed to have been closed before their arrival, or rather, it still was; they had jumped a barbed wire fence.

On the shelves were devices, batteries, and various electrical tools for fixing cars, also for adjusting computer components used as medical equipment in a room covered with clear but worn plastic, with a zipper in the center.

"Looks like you plan to take out my organs and sell them."

Said Faux while kicking scattered objects on the floor and discarding his useless metallic arm.

"I hope you have bandages or something; this is bleeding."

Indeed, small threads of blood could be seen flowing over the metal, about to start rusting.

An awkward silence took over the atmosphere, leaving room for thoughts that evoked the image of the blonde’s father shooting and lowering his sunglasses to make sure the one escaping was his son. Or maybe, he simply walked into a dark place, and the sunglasses didn't allow him to see clearly. In any case, Faux now knew his father was still around, and the mere thought that he might already know he was alive churned his stomach.

"Cue... It's bleeding a lot." Faux sounded a bit distressed.

The moisture on his pants brought him out of his reverie, too wet.

On the other hand, Cue settled into a metal chair in a corner to read a celebrity gossip magazine.

"Mmm Hmm..." He murmured indifferently as a scruffy-looking man with a bandana covering his mouth, glasses, and an apron that looked like a butcher's entered and stood next to the table with an automatic riveter. Without warning, three rivets were driven into Faux's arm to install a plate.

"Dot Exe." He added another rivet. "Your friend looks familiar."

Cue lowered the magazine for a few seconds.

"He's a good guy." Despite his kind words, his robotic language conveyed indifference.

Faux groaned as he felt the rivet go into his flesh.

"O-OUCH." One of his eyes shut tight, unable to have any other reaction.

But quite apart from his physical pain, he couldn't overlook what Cue had said, although his words were monotonous, the gesture had warmed his heart a bit; did he really think he was a good guy?

"Are you going to leave this on me?" Faux asked.

Cue, with a touch of sarcasm, replied:

"Do you want to stay tied to the table longer? How weird XDD."

He got up and examined the state of Faux's flesh arm, which was full of bruises and red sutures. Both arms looked better than before, and there wasn't much more to do at that moment. Cue patted his arm.

"You'll get used to it."

After they examined the painful piece of flesh, they concluded that everything was fine and the guy would be okay.

"Thanks."

He showed his fist to Cue with his new robotic arm, which was light and easy to use, despite its cold touch that reminded him of skin.

"Tomorrow we have to try again."

Faux's invitation went beyond camaraderie, as he wanted to see if he could meet his father again. He knew things might not turn out as he thought.

As they left the clandestine workshop through the hole in the fence, the sunset painted warm tones in their fraternal relationship.

"How do your new parts feel?" Cue spoke calmly, with rusty blood stains on his clothes, as they walked towards their hideout along the coast, scaring birds away while they played kicking a stone along the way, where the sound of the waves filled the void.

"Good, it’s like I never lost these parts of my body." Faux clenched his new fist and kicked things with his new leg, full of energy.

"Want to race or is the little robot already tired?" Faux asked playfully, remembering the days when he used to bug Félix to stay up late when they were teenagers.

Cue showed a red exclamation mark on his facial panel.

"I don't need rest. Let's see if you can keep up with me."

Immediately, the cyberhead released his skateboard and chose a little-traveled road with a wide sidewalk and a wave guardrail to test his new limbs.

"A race to the hideout or what?"

It seemed like music started to flow from Faux's headphones, wow, he hadn't felt this good, maybe separating from those pieces opened up that sentimental bag in his head a bit, but they also didn't give him time to think about it.

It was incredible to be "him" again, although in essence, he was different, maybe not being able to move kept him constantly depressed, with the idea that he was nothing that ever once drilled into his brain, huh, well, it's warm to have himself back.

"Yeah, but if I win, you buy me dinner."

Wheels popped out of Faux's old shoes while Cue started the race by raising his hand, making the official ceremony of their friendly competition.

"Go."

Faux accepted the challenge, and although he couldn't win the race, he gave a good competition.

"In my defense, I just got new arms and legs." Although they worked perfectly, Faux felt he needed practice to have better control, as he was used to more robust parts.

"I have to go see Félix, see you." Faux showed his fist before leaving.

Cue ended up soaked by the waves, sitting on the edge of a sidewalk as he brushed the sand off his shoes. He grunted and raised his hand for a half-hearted goodbye, returning the fist bump.

"Yeah, see you tomorrow, loser."

Faux stuck his tongue out at Cue as he walked away.

Chapter Text

Somewhere else on the other side of the city DJ Cyber's silhouette is obscured by the sun.

"You're late."

He says at the highest point of the skate ramp, with a mask that doesn't belong to him covering his face.

"I imagine you know why you're here, right?"

Because he had arranged to meet Felix in a place he finds quite secluded from everyone, somewhat intimidating, used as a motel at times when the sun sets, but perfectly habitable when there's daylight.

Felix checks his phone, squinting, trying to feign confusion when the clock marks past midnight.

"No."

Although he can assume, the guy says it sincerely.

"Well, it's to talk about Faux."

He knows Felix as well as he knows Faux, or what's left of him, so he adopts his tough expression as he slides over to where Felix is.

"We all agree that if he ever decides to attempt murder again, I'm going to cut his head off again, and this time neither he nor his head will survive."

Felix stands still, thinking and listening attentively to Cyber's strident voice.

"Uh-huh"

He turns around, his gaze dancing everywhere but on Cyber's mask, swatting at the air as the sun burns the back of his neck.

"Hey, I dreamt about you."

Cyber sighed in frustration. That old and worn mask slides off his face, even though he's completely used to it. He decides to adopt a more relaxed posture for Felix.

"Oh yeah? What was it about?"

"It was that time in the art contest, in the junkyard behind the high school."

Felix looks up, feeling distant. His neck cracks in the process, letting the sun hit his closed eyes.

"When we got disqualified for sabotaging each other?"

Memories of adolescence when the three of them began to forge their friendship based on almost extreme competition. Although he can remember those times when they would get together to collaborate on some graffiti, Faux was the smallest in the group, usually the most temperamental, although he later developed a tougher exterior.

"What do you think that means?"

Felix finally turns to look at him, furrowing his brow in an effort to think about it, humming in the process.

"I don't know, probably just because Faux was at my house."

It seemed like Felix always had a hard time thinking, and Dj found that funny and endearing, so his tough attitude softened a bit.

"...You didn't take him to live with you, did you?"

But then the change in sensations within his body happens so quickly that his face begins to burn.

"Felix, you can't tell me you did that."

Dj stands up, approaching him, visible desperation dripping from his face.

Felix watches the man become like a marble pillar in front of him, or rather, an entire wall, cold. It shields his eyes from the sun.

He stands up, almost instinctively, taking a stable stance with his feet firmly planted on either side, looking directly at him with a face that bears concern, even though he tries to downplay it with defiance.

"Cyber."

"It's just that..." Dj takes hold of his face, pulling at the skin in frustration and then pinching the bridge of his nose.

"How?? How could you? How can you trust him so much? How???"

Confusion and frustration are so evident on his face, expressions that look so transparent.

So foolish.

"How can you live with a killer? With your almost killer?"

An alarm goes off in his head, the pulsing of his veins behind his temples as he clenches his fists. Felix scratches his arms insistently.

"I don't trust him."

He mumbles with a flurry of emotions, the rest of the words getting stuck in his throat with thick saliva.

Dj cyber is feeling how the flesh is being pulled and torn because of the water.

"Then you're just playing to see who cuts whose head off again," Dj exhales. "Again."

The tension that had muffled their ears is cut, and the last comment hits like a huge snowflake breaking his back.

"I insist, if he does even the slightest wrong thing again, I'll take care of that personally."

Memories do nothing but inflame his head, a throbbing pain. He swore so much in front of the person in front of him that his business talk with a marble wall was the same as trying to swear by Faux. Trying to speak through fragments of his dignity is a punishment.

"I know what I'm doing. I know it's hard for you to believe, but I have everything under control."

Cyber opened his mouth without knowing what to say, hesitating about the words the man managed to blurt.

"Felix... listen."

His stomach ran out of air as he exhaled so forcefully, he could feel the frustration leaving with it in a "maybe you're being too harsh!"

"It's hard to trust again, and I don't want Faux to have a new psychotic episode, and now we're not there to save your head."

Where is his head?

"His body is in pieces."

Felix sat back on the cold edge of the metal. He continued to scratch his arm, reddish scratches appearing.

"I'm not sure if he can ever do something like that again."

Sweet sun and melancholy, the man's voice is bathed in acid.

"Just be careful."

A painful murmur escapes his voice. What will happen if another tragedy occurs? The uncertainty burns his stomach.

And then Dj takes his hand, the one that had been tirelessly scratching his arm burned by nails.

"We can't be sure of what's going to happen, and even though he's incapacitated... his head is disturbed."

"I'll take away what's left of him if he does anything," Felix musters enough charisma to smile, and the other's hand gives him warmth.

"It's weird that you're concerned about me, huh? I understand your point."
Dj CyBer, taking Felix's hand, enveloped it between his own.

“you want to fix him now? Very bold of you. Listen to me, I've known you for years, I've always cared, and after the odyssey we went through while you were Red... this is heavy. “

Just as the bearded man attempted to rise, Dj Cyber's voice abruptly made him sit down again.

“ I'm not trying to fix him. I understand your concern, but I have my reasons, it's just that... “

Seldom could a different expression be seen on Felix's face, his natural confusion was different, and this lack of words seemed painful.

“I don't know how to explain it. The words won't come to me.”

Dj CyBer, with his mask in place, the same one that had once belonged to Felix and was now his, responded:

"... It's okay, just don't lose your head again." He sighed heavily.

"I'll be watching you, Felix." And he walked away from the place, the wheels of his skates roaring beneath his feet.

Chapter Text

Faux is back at Félix's home, after bumping into a few things, he tries to open the door a couple of times before knocking a few others.

"It's me, I didn't find you in the hideout, so I decided to come over."

He knocked once again.

"Félix?"

Inside the house, a faint conversation was drowned out by the voices on the television. Footsteps gradually approached, revealing Tryce, while Félix lay sprawled on the living room carpet.

"..."

Cold electricity ran down his spine and through his metal parts. Why was Tryce here? A certain panic choked him all at once. How...?

"Uh, I think I'll go sleep somewhere else."

"Faux!"

Félix ran to the door next to Tryce, who made room for him. Seeing him, Félix's face froze for a few seconds, trying to remember if he had any other commitments he had to attend to because of his lack of attention.

His phone fumbled in his hands.

"What time is it?"

11:30

Tryce immediately took the phone, also a bit worried about the time shown on the device.

"Let's leave it here. I need to get home to take care of my old man."

He raised his hand, which Félix met with a hybrid of a high-five and a handshake.

Faux stood a bit apart from them, head slightly bowed, like an oh shit, I found them together and a burning sensation rising up his esophagus, scorching his throat. ...so I'm not the only friend he brings home. It was obvious, wasn't it? It was his home, and he could bring anyone he wanted, but maybe it just made him a bit uncomfortable to see how well he got along with Tryce. He pondered while looking for a towel to take a shower and clean clothes to wear as pajamas.They even synchronize their handshake.

Félix closed the door, slowly picking up the trash they had left, including a selection of chip bags and a few beer cans.

"I think I've been ignoring him a bit lately."

It seemed that today, in fact, everyone gathered to scold Félix, which was noticeable by his more hunched posture than usual and his excessive sighing. Talking to others is tiring when you feel like you're doing something wrong.

"And you? Did you see Cue?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah. Look at this."

An almost childlike excitement filled Faux's body as he quickly began to show him his new robotic parts, rolling up his shirt sleeve and pants leg.

"Touch it, it feels like skin."

The new limbs felt smooth, the silicone less worn, dirty, and battered. Félix stroked it with his thumb, watching how his "skin" wrinkled.
Then he paid attention to his flesh arm. Maybe it was too much to ask what had happened, stopping him at the apartment entrance.

"Oh shit, dinner." He exclaimed, looking for the landline phone in the kitchen.

"I'm going to order something, we'll talk when you get out of the shower or something."

Faux nodded slowly, not saying anything about his new parts and despite the dry elusion he guessed that was fine.
Now he wasn't afraid to take a shower, and it was great not having to wrap himself in garbage bags.

...

The water was hot, just now able to enjoy the trickling of water.

…

"What are you going to order for dinner?"

Asked a dripping Faux, wearing one of Félix's shirts and lycra shorts that barely covered his thighs. It seemed it was the most comfortable thing he could find to sleep in.

"I thought it would be cool to order burritos from that Mexican restaurant we got kicked out of once..."

He lays on the couch, placing his new hand on his grumbling stomach.

Félix had just ordered, and was already taking a bite. He quickly turned to look at Faux with salsa dripping from the corner of his mouth.

"Come, sit."

A foil-wrapped burrito package was pushed across the counter.

"Cool."

The sound of the metallic foil crunching under his fingers as he unwrapped a large burrito filled with meat and vegetables, the most delicious stuff.

"So, what do you think of the new prosthetics?"

He asked with his mouth full.

Félix chewed hard, it seemed painful for him to try to swallow the bite with his eyes closed while trying to talk to Faux. Still not sure why, his presence felt guilty again.

"Great, you're in a good mood."

He said in passing, finally opening his eyes with a tear.

"They look like Cue's. Did you go out to talk to him?"

"Yeah, we went out for a bit."

Now Faux felt a bit indifferent to what he was saying, with an acidic feeling in his stomach, feeling that he could have done more to pay attention to his excitement.

"And then we went to a very unhygienic place to get these put on."

A look of surprise appeared on Félix's face.

"It's great that you don't have to use bags to shower anymore," He again looked at his flesh arm. "And you got rid of the cast."

"Oh yeah, Cue helped me a bit, he's a good guy...robot?"

He pulled a piece of aluminum foil from his mouth that he had bitten by mistake.

"And... I think I saw my dad today."

Félix stopped chewing. His chest turned to ice, and the food sat badly in his stomach. The sound of the aluminum-wrapped burrito resting on the counter was heavy.

"Your...Did you see the police?"

"Oh, yeah, I think Cue and I went a bit too far."

Faux never stopped eating, in fact, he was about to finish the burrito.

"Between the chase and whatnot, I ended up seeing my dad. I don't know if he recognized me, but if he did, he didn't stop shooting at me."

He lifted his shirt a bit, showing healed bullet wounds.

"But I'm okay with that, I guess."

He remembered the murmur of words Dj Cyber had said to him like nails in a coffin. Each heartbeat was a hammer strike, and the nail sank into his skin.

"I thought you'd stay in the hideout."

By this point, he was pushing the food out of his sight.

"No, well, Cue invited me out."

"Invited" so to speak, since it was conditional.

"What's wrong, don't you want to eat anymore?"

He asked after wiping his mouth and pointing to the half-eaten burrito.

His fingertips were cold, with white nails. So dead, he touched Faux's arm, squeezing his shoulder a bit.

"You and Cue, what exactly did you do to attract attention?"

Felix’s face lowered slightly as he let himself be pushed a bit with the squeeze on his shoulder, frowning, looking at Faux in a somewhat challenging manner.

"Why do you want to know that?"

Both of the blonde man's hands, cold and hot, pressed against the couch, like a cat starting to bristle and flatten its ears.

In turn the brunette squinted, tilting his head, his eyes danced all over Faux's face, trying to register something his brain couldn't, sighing a bit heavily through his nose.

"Huh? What do you mean by that?" His fingers trembled, his voice involuntarily quiet. "Answer me."

He wrinkled his nose. What did it matter what Cue and he had done? Félix wasn't any authority over his autonomy, he could do whatever he wanted.

"No, why do you want to know what I do? And with that damn authoritative tone."

Finally, he set his shoulders as hard as he could.

"Authoritative?"

His nose wrinkled. In seconds that felt like hours, marked by the quick thump of his heart, stunning him.

"Faux, what did you do?"

"Nothing."

His eyes wavered, they looked away, but came back, still defiant but also a bit nervous.

"Nothing that would get me in trouble again, drop it."

And he pushed his hands, starting to feel very tense.

Felix’s posture worsened, he was a wilted flower losing some of the light in his eyes.

"Nothing to get YOU in trouble." He said quietly. "Man, you're still a selfish prick."

"You're right, it's my fault for trusting you, it always has been." He returned to his food, taking a cold, hard bite, patting Faux consolingly. "Drop it, let's sleep."
He turned in his seat, gripping the couch back tightly.

"And what does what I do in my free time have to do with the trust you have in me? I didn't do anything that could affect you! Going out isn't betraying your damn trust!"

The face of a stunned Faux started to burn, his forehead, he was almost gritting his teeth.

"Selfish? Me selfish for wanting to go out and do normal stuff that you kept asking me to do? Unbelievable, Félix."

Felix stayed there, stunned, his eyes seeing red, his head in a continuous, painful line of static as he looked at him, silent. He had words stuck in his throat.
He swallowed whatever he was eating, dropping the half-eaten burrito on the counter, spilling.

He stood up, turning away, breathing heavily with his lips pressed together. He silently locked himself in his room.

Faux's blood boiled, bubbled, burned, and seared his esophagus with acid rising from anger, and he kicked cushions and things that didn't make much noise if kicked or went flying.

"YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!"

He shouted while biting his shirt collar so only he could hear it.

—------

Sleep eludes him entirely.

With a sigh of frustration, he finally decides to give up on trying to sleep and checks his phone. The glowing screen reveals the merciless time: 4:04 a.m.

He moves with a languid pace, traversing the dimly lit living room. His gaze lingers on Faux, who is cloaked in the shadows cast by the couch. The eerie blue moonlight barely touches him, but it's evident that Faux is in the midst of a deep slumber. A soft sigh escapes his lips, a mixture of relief and envy at Faux's peaceful rest.

Leaving the apartment behind, he grabs their skateboard and descends the stairs, venturing out into the city's nocturnal realm. As he leaves the confines of his neighborhood, the air is tinged with the acrid scent of urine and the faint aroma of plants stubbornly growing amidst the urban decay. He skates aimlessly, surrounded by an unsettling silence that is only sporadically interrupted by the buzzing of streetlights or the presence of a solitary drug addict and their somnolent canine companion.

The streetlights brush past him as he glides along like a somnambulist. The ever-present hum of electricity grows louder, culminating in the vicinity of a veterinary clinic. There, an aged dog rests on a cold metal table next to its weary, sorrowful owner. He watches the poignant tableau for a minute, bathed in the eerie glow of neon lights, his fatigued body swaying in silent contemplation.

Something urges me to look at the lifeless animal. I am wide awake, I know it because despite my condition of living my skin itches with the rot crawling underneath it. I sense that I should be feeling something more profound about a lifeless carcass, hence Im witness of my condition, but the emotion remains elusive, just beyond my grasp. Euthanasia. He weeps like a dog that no longer knows how to react except with fear and violence. They have to put him down, there is no fixing.

Further along the desolate path, a hapless opossum lies motionless in a pool of grim, crimson residue.

He quickens his pace on the skateboard.

Upon his return to the apartment, he doesn't feel any better. The electric cacophony of the power lines outside intensifies, further unsettling his already frazzled nerves. Envy festers within him"not for the living, but for the lifeless creatures he encountered.

His exhaustion is palpable as he reaches for the pain pills that Faux had given him. With a sense of resignation, he swallows one and then slowly retreats to the foot of the couch, seeking some semblance of comfort amid the relentless disquiet within him.

Felix Lays down by his side. Their condition bulimic.