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“How I long to see her face, now. Her starry moonlit gaze, now. I know she’s never late; still, anxiously I wait. Patient is the night.”
A Biograft, Byte, situated beside its creator known as Subspace Tripmine, was suddenly alerted by the feeling of tapping against its knee. It was 4:56 A.M. on a Tuesday. It was still pitch black outside. Tap. Tap. Tap. ‘Get Box and Laser’ was tapped in Morse Code to Byte.
It stood, and made its way to the opposite side of the bed, where Boombox lay. He was a deep sleeper, and Byte assumed Subspace was not strong enough to wake him in his current state. It lifted Boombox so that he was sitting up, and he woke up fast.
“Wh-... What? What’s going on?” Boombox mumbled groggily, reaching for his visor and putting it on.
“Dad wanted you and Hyperlaser. Shall I get Hyperlaser, or do you want to?” The Biograft asked.
“You can get Hyperlaser, Subspace should know that I’m here, and I wanna know why ze wants us.” Boombox seemed more alert already. This wasn’t a common occurrence.
Byte left the shared room and made its way to Hyperlaser’s, which was fairly close by. She had been staying over more often as of recently because of Subspace’s rapidly deteriorating state. It knocked on the door, waited a moment, and opened it. It was met with the sight of Katana sitting up in bed and rubbing her eyes. Hyperlaser stirred beside her.
“Subspace wants Hyperlaser.”
It heard Katana whisper something it couldn’t hear to Hyperlaser, who immediately got out of bed. She felt it too, that something was wrong. Princess sat up curiously, no longer hidden behind Katana.
“Biograft, guide me to mi hermano’s room. Which one are you?”
“Byte.”
Byte approached Hyperlaser and let beam hold its arm, and slowly made its way to the room that Subspace and Boombox resided in. When they got there, the light was on, and Boombox did not have their visor on anymore. They were visibly upset.
“We’re here. Boombox is here as well.”
Hyperlaser felt for the bed, and once she found it, kneeled beside it and rested her chin on the edge.
“Please leave the room, Byte. I’m sure Princess would like to be pet right now.” Hyperlaser said. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
“Okay. You are welcome,” Byte said, and left, closing the door behind it. “Boombox, do you know what’s going on?”
“Hyperlaser, he’s.. dying.”
She felt her heart stop.
“...What?”
“He said he can feel himself dying, Hyperlaser.” Boombox’s quiet voice broke into a sob at the end.
They both knew it was coming. In the recent months, Subspace had started to sound, look, and act worse than ever before at a highly unusual rate. Ze had lost all vision and hearing, and zis feeling was becoming dull. Over half of the muscle in zis body was visible. Ze was thin, with tired, sunken-in eye holes, and zis horns had all fallen off, one by one. Zis right arm fell off, too, and the same was beginning to happen with zis teeth. Ze smelled putrid, and every breath ze took rattled zis chest. Zis lungs were slowly filling with mucus and blood that ze was too weak to cough up. Ze could no longer walk, and the only thing ze could move decently was zis left arm and leg. Ze was a living, breathing corpse. Zis decomposing body was revolting. Ze tried to keep zimself hidden by cloth as best as ze could, as ze knew how vile ze was now. It was far past zis time to go. Hyperlaser knew it. Boombox knew it. Several other phighters became aware of it when they no longer saw Subspace, and Hyperlaser and Boombox’s appearances became less and less.
Hyperlaser felt herself begin to cry, even if she didn’t have the tears to show it. She placed her palm against Subspace’s, and he instantly interlocked his fingers with hers and held her hand as tightly as he could, as if he was telling her it’d be okay. Boombox’s hand rested on the back of Subspace’s forearm, their thumb rubbing soothing circles into it.
“I.. LOVE.. YOU,” Subspace managed to growl out, unintentionally loudly. It was the first thing he had said since he’d gone completely deaf. His voice was terrible, and it sounded more like ‘I luth oo’ because of his lack of lips.
Hyperlaser heard Boombox sob loudly at the words, and let herself do so too. She shakily tapped the words ‘we love you too,’ into the palm of his hand.
He choked on his own blood, mucus, and saliva silently. Subspace desperately wanted to hug the other two tightly and tell them they’d be okay without him, that his death was inevitable and had been long approaching. He couldn't, though; he was nothing, only proven living by his decaying breaths. He had learned to welcome death with open arms, patiently waiting and preparing for its arrival. He was ready to die. At least he had done his best, even if it was towards the end, to be a good person- he would not die as an important person or a hero to anyone, but he’d die as proof that change is possible. He’d die an okay person, at least.
Subspace could feel his beloved partner and his resilient brother shaking with sobs he couldn’t hear. He knew they wouldn't be ready, but he had tried to help- when he realized his sight was going, he began to make them many more gifts. He spent more time with them. He had made handwritten letters and voice recordings, and he had stored them in his Biografts so that they would receive them when they needed them. It was anything he could think of, any little reminder of his love that he could give to them. He had written love letters and spoke into tape recorders about how amazing his family was. Sometimes he'd cry when he did this. He got stuffed animals he knew they'd like and tried his best to love them hard, and maybe they'd appreciate it.
But now, he could feel his mind slipping into unconsciousness, and he felt Boombox kiss his hand softly. He placed his palm to their cheek and rubbed his thumb up and down before reaching for Hyperlaser, who met his hand with hers, and he hesitantly reached further. She guided his hand to her forehead. He brushed it gently with his knuckles and ran his fingers through a small section of her hair.
Subspace brought his hand down to his leg and laid it palm up, and Boombox and Hyperlaser placed their hands on his palm at the same time, each sharing a half of his hand. He squeezed their hands gently. A moment passed, and they felt his hand ease and his fingers naturally curl inward to an extent. He seemed to sink into the bed a little more. His mouth opened slightly, and his breaths were not audible any longer.
It was on a Tuesday morning, at exactly 5:28 A.M., when Subspace Tripmine died.