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It didn’t take Chosen long to find Dark.
He was honestly a little surprised the other was still down, looking almost corpse-like in the crater Second had left him in, miles away from the coast.
There’s a nagging bit of Chosen that wants to leave Dark there, let him lay in the carnage he caused as punishment, but as he lightly shoves Dark with his foot, the other groaning lightly, Chosen sighs. He couldn’t do it.
Dark’s nothing but dead weight as Chosen lugs them back to their collective house in relative silence. There’s just the chirping of the birds, the wind in the trees, and the pair’s matched breathing.
It takes Chosen a little longer to get back home, and he unceremoniously dumps Dark in his room before turning to leave, hesitating for just a moment. What if Dark gets up and leaves? What if he goes back to his lab? The thought of having to do that all over again, especially so soon, makes Chosen shudder. He opts to leave the door open, just to keep an ear out for the other.
His next stop is the small room that Dark had been using as an office, and he spends god-knows-how-long dragging the machine (Ray? Whatever Dark had called it) from the balcony down to the yard, where Chosen lit it on fire. It smelled awful, the scent of burnt metal and soldering wires filling the air, the smoke filling up the darkening sky.
The sight of the sun finally setting is what makes Chosen realize how exhausted he really is, and as the fire begins to die down, he drags himself back inside and up the stairs, pausing in the doorway to Dark's room. The other is still on top of the covers, having not moved from the position Chosen dropped him in, and for a split second, Chosen thinks he’s dead. The little voice from earlier reminds him that they can’t die, and another voice pipes in to mention that this new hollowhead was far stronger than the two of them combined, unhelpfully, and Chosen finally moves forward, out of the doorway and into the room, never taking his eyes off Dark. He holds his own breath until he sees, finally, the other’s chest rise and fall. Shallow, but still there.
That helps ease Chosen’s worry, and he all but stumbles out of the room and into his own bedroom, all the adrenaline from the day gone, replaced with an ache that he assumes is just from the beating he took.
And for once he sleeps soundly. No nightmares, no dreams, just a deep darkness that leaves him comatose for god knows how long. The sun is back up by the time Chosen wakes, the distant noise of nature welcoming. In his grogginess, he almost forgets about Dark as he stumbles into their shared bathroom. He looks at the bruises on his body, grumbling under his breath in annoyance. Chosen is sore all over, and he groans as he stretches.
Next step is going to see if Dark’s awake. Or alive. Whichever one. Chosen hangs out in the doorway, noting that Dark had crawled underneath a blanket overnight, but hadn’t run off. He raises an eyebrow, folding his arms.
“I know you’re awake.” He says, watching Dark shuffle under the blanket and turn away from him. “You can’t avoid the conversation, Dark.”
"Less of a conversation and more of you yelling at me.” Dark replies, voice muffled by the blanket, and Chosen huffs.
“I think I have a good reason to yell at you.” He says through gritted teeth. “All things considered.”
Dark doesn’t respond to that, and Chosen watches him curl up more on the bed. There’s a tense silence, neither daring to risk the other getting angry.
“Can I at least see how hurt you are?” Chosen’s voice cuts through the silence, and he watches Dark’s head peek out from the blanket, a look he’s never seen on his face. “I’m being serious.”
“I’m not hurt.” Dark responds sharply.
“Bullshit.” Chosen spits back, now thoroughly annoyed with the younger. “I found you ten miles away in a crater and you’re not hurt?”
“Even if I was hurt, which I’m not, I wouldn’t want your help.” Dark’s nearly snarling at this point.
“Fine. Whatever. You can die for all I care. Doesn’t matter to me.” Chosen throws his hands in the air in defeat, turning sharply on his heel. He can hear Dark mutter something inaudible, and he scowls deep as he makes his way to the kitchen
He’s sipping on his coffee, staring out the wide kitchen window, thinking. There’s a scorch mark in the grass outside from the fire.
He thinks of the others. The one who looked like him. He never got any of their names, or at least he doesn’t remember it.
The one who looks like him, Orange, he decides, was terrifying. Chosen had watched in horror as Dark tried to kill that one, tried to knock him down like the others he had come with. It’s not like Chosen could’ve done anything about it, the spiders that Dark had created kept him down for long enough that Chosen was powerless to stop anything. All he could do was watch while the Orange one easily took down Dark, effortlessly. And when Chosen thanked him all he got in return was a look of confusion and a wave.
“You don’t have to bow to me.” Orange had said, an exhausted smile on his face, the others behind him with the cursor. “I’m just happy that everyone’s okay.”
And Chosen hadn’t responded, watching them all disappear, probably back to Alan’s computer. He had spent another minute gathering some energy, letting himself think for the first time that day, before taking off into the sky to hunt down Dark.
His coffee is cold now. Chosen continues to stare out the window, brow furrowed. He wonders, distantly, if it would be worth hunting down Orange, just to get some answers. Although he’s not too certain if he’s willing to leave his volatile… roommate alone.
Roommate. Formerly partners, closer than anyone could be. Now that bond was destroyed, burnt to pieces right alongside Dark’s machine. Chosen makes a face, pushing away the cup of coffee and resting his head on the kitchen table.
He doesn’t know how to go about this. He doesn’t know what he wants to do more, go up there and punch Dark, yell at him about being stupid and reckless and figure out why exactly he thought that was a good idea, or if he wants to be gentle and see just how injured the other was, to indulge in the part of him that still trusts Dark, no matter how small.
Chosen groans, lightly smacking his forehead against the table, before pushing his chair back and standing. He strains to hear if Dark was moving around, the response being only the muffled noises of the outdoors.
He counts the stairs as he goes up, slow and concise. Thirteen stairs to reach the second floor, and then another seven steps until he’s standing back in front of Dark’s doorway, the other turning to face him, and it doesn’t quite slip by Chosen that Dark winces.
It’s three steps until Chosen’s at Dark’s bedside, and he reaches out to smack Dark upside the head.
“I want you to explain to me why you thought that was a good idea.” Chosen starts, Dark frowning, the beginning of his response interrupted by Chosen raising a finger. “First, though, I’m checking your injuries.”
“I told you, I’m fine. You didn’t have to take me back, anyhow.” Dark’s back on defensive, and Chosen matches his frown. “Especially since you’re more interested in lecturing me.”
“Contrary to popular belief, I’d rather not have you loose.” Chosen replies. “This is merely so I can keep an eye on you.”
A half-lie. Chosen’s still furious, and the idea of Dark, even while injured, running around freely with nobody to keep him in check, is a little scary.
Dark huffs, but chooses to not continue arguing. Chosen takes this as a win for himself, and he holds out a hand to Dark.
“The bathroom’s better.” He says when Dark gives him a look, and the other shrugs and takes it, Chosen pulling him up and out of the bed. Dark winces, again, and staggers for a moment. He looks like shit, clothes torn, hunching in on himself like even the concept of standing hurt.
It’s less of them taking the few steps to the bathroom, and more of Chosen dragging Dark along before Chosen’s wordlessly instructing Dark to sit on the edge of the bathtub, rummaging through the drawers until he finds what he’s looking for, carefully placing the first aid kit on the ground.
Dark watches in uncharacteristic quietness, and as Chosen faces Dark he places his gaze at the tiles lining the floor.
Chosen starts off small, tearing open the small packet of alcohol wipes and going in to wipe off Dark’s face, who flinches slightly at the cold feeling.
It’s methodical. Wipe, toss, pull out a clean bandage and cover up the worst of the scrapes on Dark’s face. Rinse and repeat until Chosen considers that part taken care of well enough.
Next move is the chest. Covered by what was once a shirt, now torn nearly to shreds, Chosen lifting it slowly, Dark hissing through gritted teeth.
His chest is nearly a different color, more bruise than skin and Chosen makes a note to check for broken ribs while Dark moves from staring at the floor to the wall, knuckles turning white with the way he grips the edge of the tub, tensing in anticipation for the sting of rubbing alcohol.
Chosen spends a moment watching Dark’s chest rise and fall, just shallow enough that he was able to breathe without it hurting too much, and frowns. Bruised at the very least, but there wasn’t much anyone could do about it. He sighs and moves onto cleaning more of Dark’s wounds, thankful that his chest wasn’t too injured, especially in comparison to his back.
Orange flinging Dark had resulted in him sliding across the ground, tearing the skin on his back to shreds, and Chosen winces when he has Dark turn around.
“How bad is it?” Dark’s voice is quiet, the first words he had spoken in a while, and Chosen makes a face.
“Pretty nasty.” He replies, looking at the few alcohol wipes he had left, sifting through the first aid kit until he finds what he’s looking for. The bottle of rubbing alcohol sloshes around, and Dark tenses when he hears it. “This is gonna hurt.”
Chosen makes an attempt to be gentle, but still Dark makes a pained noise when the liquid touches his back, shuddering full-body and pulling away. Chosen mumbles a “sorry” as he continues.
This part takes the longest, the only noises being the groans Dark lets out occasionally. Then, finally, Chosen sits back, examining his handiwork.
"You done?” Dark asks, and Chosen hums in response.
“Anywhere else I need to look?”
“No, I think that’s enough.” Dark spins back around to face Chosen, looking more than exhausted, and Chosen pauses, looks at the bracelets still on his wrists.
“I need you to talk to me.” Chosen folds his arms.
Dark opens and closes his mouth, frowning as if deciding what exactly he wants to say, before taking a deep breath. It’s a minute of silence before Dark begins.
“I don’t know why you forgave him.”
“What?” Chosen’s taken aback slightly at that.
“He hurt you, he hurt us, and somehow you’re totally fine with… forgetting all of it ever happened? For moving on?” Dark waves his hand angrily.
“It’s been years, Dark. There’s no point in dwelling on it if it’s just going to make you miserable.”
"You were his slave! You spent so long being nothing more than an adblocker! And yet you can’t fucking bring yourself to hate him!”
“I do hate him!” Chosen snarls. “I’m just so sick and tired of being the bad guy, alright?”
Dark opens his mouth to argue, but Chosen continues.
“I’m sick of hurting people for the thrill of it! I’m so fucking sick of killing people and raising hell and destroying shit for… what? A little bit of dopamine? It’s not fun anymore, Dark. I still hate him, I really do. I just can’t fucking bring myself to give a shit anymore. It’s not like we could do serious damage anyways. Destroy the computer, he gets a new one. There’s never going to be a winner when it’s him versus us.”
Chosen inhales deeply.
“All your reckless behavior did was get you hurt.”
Dark’s silent, and Chosen sees the burning rage in his eyes, deep and hurting. He wonders, distantly, if his own eyes matched it.
“I did it for you.” Dark spits out. “My virabots? All of that planning? I did it for us, for you. I wanted you to be happy and all I ended up getting was you betraying me to side with the person who hurt us most.”
“You were going to go after others once Alan was gone.”
“You don’t know that! Once he was gone, we wouldn’t have ever had to worry about another person hurting us like that ever again. You wouldn’t ever have to feel indebted to anyone!”
“Was us being here not enough for you, Dark? Were all these years not worth it in your eyes?”
Dark’s mouth is a thin line as he glares at Chosen.
“Answer me, Dark.”
“I just don’t get why you’re never happy. No matter what anyone does, it’s never enough.” Dark hangs his head low, and Chosen can hear his voice become strained. “If I destroyed the PC, then maybe, just maybe, you’d smile for me again.”
Chosen blinks in surprise. He hadn’t expected Dark to say that, and when Dark lifts his head back up, Chosen can see that he had deflated. All that remains of Dark’s anger is a weary sorrow, and Chosen sighs, reaching a hand forward to hold one of Dark’s.
Neither feels the need to speak, Dark leaning forward gently until his head bumps Chosen’s. There’s a long silence, seconds that tick into minutes, before Dark speaks up.
“You smell awful right now, Cho.” This makes Chosen huff in an almost-laugh, pulling away.
“You don’t smell much better yourself.” He replies, watching Dark crinkle his nose.
“Then get out of here so I can shower.” Dark picks at the bracelets on his wrists absentmindedly, and Chosen doesn’t let it slip by that they don’t move away from his skin. He pushes himself to his feet, knees popping from how long he was kneeling.
As he’s stepping away, closing the door to the bathroom out of courtesy, he pretends that he doesn’t hear Dark quietly sniffle. Instead, he takes the opportunity to step outside, to breathe in the summer air.
And while he’s heading towards the cliffside, he’s thinking again. Too much for his own liking, but the sea air helps quell his mind. Chosen’s peeking warily into the little shack, on guard in case Orange didn’t kill all the viruses. Thankfully, there’s none he can find in his search. It’s not like he knew how to kill them without exhausting himself, anyways.
Next is Dark’s computer. It’s powered off, and Chosen’s debating if he wants to destroy it, burn it alongside the shack, just for good measure. He can’t bring himself to do it, leave it for Dark to decide what he wants to do. Chosen can only hope that he makes the right decision.
Another quick check of the perimeter, no flash of red spiders spotted, and Chosen’s back at home, peeking in to see that Dark’s sleeping again, and this time he can see Dark’s chest rising and falling from the doorway.
A quick shower, rinsing off the grime and blood from the day prior, stepping out to a silent and dark house.
He doesn’t sleep, not tonight. Instead, he wanders. Wanders the house, wanders the yard. Wanders far enough through the surrounding forest that he can see the distant glow of the nearest city. He doesn’t go further than that.
It’s not that Chosen’s uncomfortable with the idea of interacting with others…
Well, partially so.
It’s more that he’s aware of how strange he looks in comparison to them, and he’s not too sure how friendly they’d be, considering the huge scar in the earth left a little too close to the city for comfort.
And so, he spends another few moments at the edge of the treeline, watching the glow of the buildings before turning away. The house is still dark as Chosen approaches it, the ground lit up only by the moon. The debris from Dark’s machine is still in the yard, Chosen choosing to avoid looking at it for too long in favor of heading back inside.
He doesn’t glance into Dark’s room as he walks by this time. Instead, he chooses to go back into his own room, still not tired in the slightest.
As he lays in bed, staring up at the ceiling, he spends more time than he would like thinking.
Actually, scratch that. More of decisions, less of thoughts. Number one, figure out who the third hollowhead is. Figure out what exactly he’s capable of, figure out why Alan seemed to care for him so much (and do his best to pretend like he isn’t immensely jealous). Number two, and this one took more deliberation than the first. He needed to think about his relationship with Dark.
Yes, they spoke about it. Yes, a piece of Chosen wants to forget everything that’s happened, to keep living in the same old cycle that’s been in place for years. However, what Dark did didn’t just jeopardize their relationship, but put the outernet and their lives at risk just for the sake of revenge. Right, that’s not easily forgivable.
Chosen sighs. This is the part where he’s supposed to leave, where the two of them split ways for an undetermined time, made into enemies once more. That’s usually how it goes, right?
Except Dark is all he has, at the end of the day. He can’t trust the other, not like before, but that can be fixed. Hopefully.
Yes, there’s hope. The smallest sliver, but Chosen clings to it.
And with that, a mind made up and grasping onto hope, Chosen finally falls asleep.