Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Pac had been in and out of plenty of prisons throughout his teens, even now at the age of 29, life hadn’t changed much. He still had his thrills, crime being on top of most of his adrenaline fueled rushes. He didn’t work alone however, god, you’d never catch Pac stealing without his partner in crime right behind him.

The act of robbing whatever the Brazilian could get his hands on didn’t feel right if he didn’t have Mike by his side. Mike was the one man that understood him, his best friend who was practically his brother at this point. He was a little taller than him in height, tanned skin that glowed subtly underneath a spec of light. His hair was a scruffy mess, short, a vibrant pink that made robbing quite difficult at times. It was a running joke between the two how Mike’s hair was going to be the reason they got caught some day. A pair of glasses always sat against the bridge of Mike’s nose, a recognisable rectangular shape.

The two criminals were famous amongst the country of Quesadilla, everyone knowing their crimes and their masked appearances, yet never knowing their true identities. What was hidden underneath their masks, facades, stayed hidden. And that was the biggest aspect to what made them famous. And also the fact that they left their trademark on each crime committed, always drawn in a thick red pen, big and bold, right in the public’s faces. TazerCraft.

Even if they had been sent to prison for a few months, the enforcements were never able to link all the famous crimes the duo had committed back to them. They usually were apprehended for less serious crimes such as assault, or perhaps robbing a grocery store, which still only gave them around a year or a couple of months from how good their lawyer was.

So their identities stayed hidden, at least for now. Their masked faces from shitty security camera footage, or a rough drawing of what the police estimated their faces to look like, would always pop up on the news, broadcasting to the whole world. The incredibly inaccurate drawings plastered on wanted posters that littered the streets more than actual litter.

Pac always found their urgency to capture them rather amusing. It was like watching mice running around searching for a string of cheese that was just out of their reach. 

However, today was like no other. The duo sat on their cheap apartment sofa, news blaring useless nonsense on the half broken tv in front of them. The two had never been anywhere near the wealthy side, the life of relative poverty always followed them. Which is why their apartment was a run down piece of shit. The paint on the walls chipped, having to share a bed in one of the three small rooms.

Pac was sitting, his body slumped against the back of the sofa, one arm bent and resting at the back of his head as he leaned his weight slightly against it. His right leg was propped up against the knee of the left which was planted on the beige carpet. The sofa was an ugly yellow colour, its material incredibly itchy and chunks of the fabric that covered the cushions inside were ripped off from wear. Mike was lying sideways on the other side of the sofa, his elbow propping his head up as he leant against his palm. His left leg was bent as he watched the news reporter ramble on, head next to the arm rest.

Pac had blurred out the noise of the reporter, just allowing his eyes to scan over the screen as the moving pictures flashed across his retinas. “We now have a report on TazerCraft.” That made the boys perk up from their boredom, Pac sitting up subtly whilst Mike stayed put, his eyes now glued to the screen, his ears practically up right.

“Police from the city of Favela have informed us of a new depiction of Tazer, one of the two criminals.” The reporter's voice spoke through the dodgy speakers. Pac scoffed, amusement evident. The police had never gotten his face right in the slightest, their attempts weren’t even close.

“Here we have a drawing of what the chief constable in Favela has described seeing. He believes he has seen Tazer without his mask in a recent bank robbery. We will keep you updated on the situation. Please keep an eye out for a man of this description within Quesadilla, specifically in the city of Favela.” The report then switched to the weatherman, said man now rambling on about the forecast for today, the image of the drawing still in the corner of the screen as a reminder for the rest of the show.

Pac’s breath caught in his throat, he choked on it into his hand as his eyes widened and he snapped his head towards Mike who had the same look, eyes still glued to the corner of the screen where a spitting image of Pac in drawing form stared back at them.

Pac’s blood ran cold, his face paling. The image was just like the real thing. They had gotten his hair right, a mess of black locks, his eyes were the same dark blue, same shape, same creasing on each eye. His brows were the same bushy pair, even a mole on his upper left cheek was marked down.

“What the fuck.” Pac uttered, jaw dropping and only just managing to pick it back up.

Mike blinked, “You’re screwed estúpido.”

A laugh of utter disbelief bubbled up Craft’s throat, yet no amusement clung onto it. He sat up, hand covering his mouth. 

The room fell silent for a moment before Pac spoke up, “What am I supposed to do man? This is broadcasted to the whole world.” 

“I don’t know but don’t get fucking caught, my god.”

“Easy for you to say cadela.” Pac clicked his tongue as he stood up and made his way over to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of beer from the fridge and swinging the door shut.

Mike watched him as he sat back down, popping the cap open with his teeth before taking a heavy swig. “I mean, you still up for the plan tonight? We don’t have to if you don’t wanna.”

Pac smirked as he turned towards Mike, "Oh, you know me too well."

And this is how they found themselves in this predicament. They each had a black balaclava on, Mike’s glasses had been switched to a pair of contacts for less likelihood of recognition, each of them wore a pair of black leather gloves and their clothes were black jeans and black hoodies. Pac had been on edge the whole robbery, his hands were shaky when holding the crowbar, sweat from his palms practically dripping down the handle. Jewellery was stashed in the small brown sack that Pac had, Mike having a similar, bigger one for himself.

Sirens were echoing through the streets as red and blue lights began to surround the building. The jewellers’ walls were made up of large windows, all covering the building from head to toe other than the back wall that the duo had decided to hide against. The lights reflected beautifully against the panes and Pac would appreciate the sight if it wasn’t for the situation

Pac’s breathing was heavy, already struggling from the balaclava covering his nose and just barely keeping his mouth uncovered. His chest rose harshly from the effort of swinging the crowbar earlier and from the steadily increasing fear of getting recognised. After the news report, Pac hadn’t seemed to shove it out of his head. Even after the adrenaline from robbing the jewellers. It hadn’t helped ease it.

Mike seemed to be scared shitless, Pac could tell he was trying to stuff it down and cover it up but they had never been this close to getting caught in one of their bigger heists. He had a glint in his eyes that shone his increasing fear against the night air. There was no escape, no window hidden out back, or a fire exit not in sight of a police car. All they could do now was stay hidden, crouched behind a jewellery case that stretched along the back wall before reaching to the counter where the emptied registers lay.

“Well, there goes our future. Thanks a lot Mike for the amazing escape plan.” Pac whispered harshly and rather sarcastically underneath his breath, a bitter tang clung against his words as he closed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. Of course, the one time Mike didn’t come up with an escape plan the police had decided to turn up. Of . Fucking . Course .

Mike watched Pac from the corner of his eye and scoffed in return, “I wasn’t the one that got myself aired on live fucking television.”

Pac knew now wasn’t the time to argue, but the stress of the moment and the anticipation for the police to find them was getting to his temper, and it seemed to be affecting Mike too. “And who was the one that pulled my mask off that night?” Their words had no actual hurt and intent behind them, it was just all they could muster up, all they could really do to get their minds off of the situation before them and the screaming sirens outside.

“What on earth are you-”

“Come out with your hands up!” An officer, seemingly a Chief, yelled above the untuned choir of cars. 

Mike gave a knowing look towards Pac as he held his breath before peeking around the corner of the case. He was met with a pair of brown eyes staring him down, as if the officer already knew he was there and was just waiting for one of them to peek round. 

The officer had a taser, holding it in both hands and pointing it directly at the jewellery case through the smashed double glass doors that was once an entry way. On either side of him were a dozen more police, each either holding tasers or what looked to be cuffs or batons, Mike was too dazed in adrenaline to tell.

It stayed as quiet as it could for a while before the Chief took careful steps forwards, unluckily for TazerCraft, tonight was a night where they didn’t think they needed any weapons, only bringing their masks and sacks with them. But of course, the police force didn’t know that, so they chose safety over urgency.

Mike went back to his previous position next to Pac, giving a heavy look of defeat that spoke his words without having to say them outloud. Pac sighed as he closed his eyes for a moment before hesitantly nodding and lifting his arms in the air, Mike following along not long after as the two slowly rose from their hiding spot.

“Walk out calmly and we won’t shoot!” The Chief yelled as he watched the two rise from the case, hands carefully raised in the air.

“Are you sure this is them?” An officer said beside the Chief, clearly shaking in their boots, perhaps their first robbery Pac thought as he watched the scenario go down from afar. However, not able to hear the words spoken.

The Chief grinned eagerly, taking a couple more steps further. “Definitely, see the man on the right?” The newbie nodded,  “He has the exact same eyes as that drawing we were shown this morning.” He laughed to himself smugly before continuing, “I mean, if it is them, expect a fucking hefty pay this month.”

“We will come out peacefully as long as you don’t shoot or harm us!” Mike yelled above the racket around them, slowly leading himself and Tazer out from behind the case and through the remnants of the store.

Pac couldn’t help but feel the guilt eat away at him. If only he hadn’t been seen earlier that week, maybe they would’ve been in the clear like always. Mike was for sure stressing out, all because of his stupidity, his carelessness.

They watched as the head of command stuttered for a moment before nodding his head slightly and sighing heavily. And just like that, with a waft of a hand all weapons, tasers and batons were lowered and placed back in belts. Pac watched Mike let out an audible sigh of relief before treading over shattered glass carefully and making his way out of the ruined doors, Pac trailed close behind not long after.

Once they both had reached the cops they were ordered to put their hands behind their backs. Mike did as told, however, Pac hesitated. The pinkette turned his head to see how Pac was doing and rolled his eyes as he gave him a glare that made the other shrink before giving up and placing his wrists behind his back. Pac had also been sly and slippery when in an officer’s grasp. He was cheeky and slick and always resisted, put up a fight, before finally giving in.

After being cuffed and the leftover adrenaline started to slowly subside, Pac took the opportunity to view his surroundings better, no longer having the haze of thrill making his world seem a blur. He noticed the piles of news reporters, microphones shoved in some officers’ faces, some even arguing with enforcements trying to get a statement from either of the two. It was like paparazzi, everywhere Pac looked there was a reporter of sorts, which reminded him of his reputation. 

He smiled a cheeky grin at the cameras, flashes blinding him as they snapped shots of the expression. It made Pac feel alive, like all of this was worth it. He laughed towards the cameras that were filming him live before noticing the Chief constable approaching him.

“Knock that shit off. You won’t be smiling like that once that masks off your face.” The Chief snarled and threw a harsh remark under his breath as he stared into the pool of dark blue which blazed with thrill.

Pac’s smile faltered for a moment before remembering to keep the act up for the sake of his persona. “Are you excited? Am I that attractive that you can’t wait another second?” His comment was snarky, clearly irritating said officer.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” And with a raise of a hand, a grip on the edge of the mask, the balaclava lifted clean off of his head. Cameras flashed galore, blinding Pac. Dozens of gasps and voices filled the crowd as Pac’s black hair remained a little messy from the mask, sticking slightly to his forehead from sweat and exertion. His eyes widened slightly, a glimpse of fear and slight embarrassment shining within them. His smile stayed however, cheeky as ever, pearly whites flashing against the cameras’ snaps. His eyes creased from the lift of his pink tinted lips, chapped yet still perfectly shaped. His now signature mole just under his left eye clearly visible under the red, blue and white lights that surrounded everyone.

Mike looked at Pac with horror, as if this was never meant to happen, which it wasn’t. Neither had planned for this outcome, and Mike could see the pure fear behind Pac’s eyes that no one else could see. Not understanding why the younger was still trying to hold up his image. It saddened Mike more than he thought it would, the fact he could do nothing but stay in the officers grip as they held him back.

“You piece of shit!” He snapped at the Chief, wriggling the best he could as he tried to lunge forward. He could see the building nerves and tears filling Tazer’s eyes and wanted nothing but to beat the living shit out of all the officers here simply standing and watching with their smug ass grins.

The officer didn’t even acknowledge Mike as he analysed Pac’s face, as if searching for something in particular. Pac scrunched his brows in confusion as his gaze stared the Chief down. He seemed to have given up, not looking for what he wanted. “Tazer, it’s nice to meet you.” He smiled, more of a bitter twitch of his lips than anything else. 

Pac didn’t answer, knowing his lawyer would rip him to shreds if he admitted or acknowledged anything to do with his alias. They were already going to have a hard time trying to get him and Mike out of this with a somewhat good sentencing.

“Not very talkative now are you?” The cop waited for a response and scoffed when receiving none, “Whatever, just get the two in the car. And for the love of god, get a hold of Craft.” He turned to walk back to his vehicle before stopping briefly and turning his head over his shoulder, “Also, take that bloody mask off of him. Don’t be fucking idiots and put them in the same car. Use your brains for once.”

With that, the officer got back into his car, the door to the vehicle slamming with more force than necessary. Pac faced back to Mike who was, as the Chief said, struggling against the arms of multiple officers. The flashes of the cameras only picked up as Mike’s mask was thrown off of his head and his features were visible for all to see.

But before the two could even process the moment, Pac was already shoved into the back of a police car, Mike following suit in a car further away from his own. The inside of the vehicle was like any other average car, the only different feature being the barred wall that bordered off the passenger seats at the back and the seats at the front. Pac could only assume safety was a big deal so it made sense, but it didn’t mean Pac couldn’t take advantage of it. He’d always had a habit of annoying the police in the front seats through the wall separating them, seeing as they couldn’t do much to him without getting out and entering the back, which was unlikely.

An officer had already managed to put his seatbelt on and taken his cuffs off, now all he could do was wait for a pair of enforcements to get into the front in order to drive him off to a holding cell. The wait only seemed to drag as he slumped against the back seat, soothing his battered and irritated wrist with his hand from the handcuffs.

Luckily, he didn’t have to wait too long as after a few moments an officer entered the driver's seat. Pac leaned forward and rested the side of his head on the black metal bars, staring intently at the officer as he watched the key twist and then felt the car rev into action. “Quit staring at me.” The man spoke, he was quite attractive Pac thought, not exactly his type but nonetheless quite admirable to stare at. He had black hair similar to Pac’s, however, his seemed to be a bit lighter, but maybe that was the lighting. His eyes were a dark brown, almost black from how deep they were. His skin was clear and rather pale, his lips a soft pink and his eyebrows looked to be plucked into shape. “Did you hear me or what?” He repeated once more, turning his head to look at Pac. He glared at him for a moment before turning back round.

“My bad.” Pac spoke quite simply, smiling yet another cheeky lift of his lips as he stayed rested against the bars. “Soooo,” He began once more, causing an eyeroll from the officer who still hadn’t pulled the car out of park yet, “Where are you from?”

“What’s it got to do with you?” The man clicked his tongue as he adjusted the black cap he was wearing before leaning back against the seat and folding his arms over his chest.

Pac scoffed a little at the remark, “Jeez man, just asking.” He paused for a moment, “If it helps, I’m from Brazil. Fucking hate Quesadilla with my whole soul, honestly don’t know how I ended up here.” Pac leaned back into his seat, lifting his right leg in order to rest it on his knee and tap his foot in the air.

The man laughed a little, “Don’t blame you. I’m from South Korea, came here for experience but as soon as I’m done I’m getting the hell out.”

Pac nodded, “Wish I chose the same path, wouldn’t have led me here in this fucking seat.” He turned towards the window, watching as vehicles began pulling out. “When are we leaving? Gotta say, it’s taking a while for you to reverse the car. Remember how to drive?”

The man sighed heavily, “You’re an annoying one aren’t you? We have to wait for my partner to get here first, you impatient thief.”

Pac clutched his heart dramatically, “Oooo your words hurt me!”

As if on cue, a female officer entered the passenger seat beside the driver. Her hair was blonde, tied back ruffly in a messy ponytail with subtle pink highlights on the ends. Her eyes were a soft blue, a mix of eyeliner and mascara helping accentuate her lashes. Her brows were a soft brown, making Pac notice the dark roots growing in and blending into the dyed blonde hair. “I’m here now, let’s get this thing moving Minho.”

Pac smiled smugly, learning the names of officers was something incredibly useful if he was going to hang around a while. With the command in mind, the man, Minho, adjusted the gear before reversing the car and driving out of the area. The ride was rather slow for Pac’s liking, following road laws was always so boring, especially at night.

“So, where are you from Miss?” Pac asked rather politely for his standards.

The woman turned to face Pac who was back to leaning against the bars, she rolled her eyes before responding, “Brazil, but I don’t mind living here now. It’s not as bad as some may say.”

Pac hummed, “I beg to differ, but whatever. You got a name?”

“Officer Bagi to you.” Her response was shallow as she rested an elbow against the window and placed her head in her palm.

“Well you probably know mine already.”

She laughed and Minho turned to peek at the back for a moment before focusing back on the road, he suffered from severe resting bitch face Pac thought.

Her laughter subsided as she began, “Tazer’s really your name? Who names their child that?”

“Are you stupid by chance?” Minho butted in as he kept his eyes on the road ahead of him, it was rather dark tonight so it was important to have his full attention on it. “Obviously that’s not his real name. Aliases exist for a reason, I thought an officer as high as you would’ve realised that by now.”

She rolled her eyes as she kept her eyes on the outside world through her window, “Yeah I did, just don’t know much about TazerCraft.” She paused for a brief moment before continuing a bit quieter, “I don’t think anyone does.”

“Good, it’s better that way.” The car grew quiet for a couple moments before Pac continued, “Don’t want creeps stalking me and Craft once caught you know?”

“Yeah I suppose. Doesn’t hurt letting a little bit of your identity out now you're here though?” Pac could tell Bagi was trying to dig information out of him, whether she actually cared or not Pac didn’t know and frankly didn’t really care. He wasn't the man of the duo that kept his personal life a secret for long. Mike was probably going to kill him by the end of this all but whatever, that’s for future Pac to endure.

He sighed, “I guess I just love the thrill that comes with crime, that’s all I like about this all now that I’m really thinking about it.”

Bagi raised a brow as she lifted her head and looked back towards Tazer, “Really? I thought there’d be more to it, especially considering you two are the most known criminals in the world at the moment.” She laughed a little, “You probably don’t watch the news much though, you don’t seem the type to keep up with that kind of stuff.”

“Uh, offended! I watch the news all the time. You should’ve seen my reaction to that fucking drawing on the news earlier, scared the living shit out of me.”

Bagi laughed a little and Minho smirked subtly at the comment before the car grew silent once more, this time it stayed that way for the whole drive up to the station. As they pulled into a spot, Pac noticed the lack of Mike and realised they must’ve sent him to a separate station. ‘Smart fuckers.’ Pac thought as Bagi and Minho rounded the car and helped him out.

The reception was like any old station reception, the woman sat at the desk looked as dull as ever. She honestly should’ve picked a different career path if she hated it that much. “Place your things in that tub there, here’s a pair of scrubs you must wear until your court hearing. No sneaky shit because we will find out. So everything you own has to be in here.” She tapped the box as if to emphasise the importance in the instruction.

Pac began emptying his pockets and was led to a bathroom to change before being dragged back to reception. “Perfect. Now for the boring stuff. Name?” 

Pac hesitated, not knowing which to give, especially after the conversation in the car and said people now stood either side of him. Both Bagi and Minho had subtly leant in at the question, putting Pac’s nerves further up the charts. “Uh, Tazer.”

The woman rolled her eyes as she adjusted her glasses and stared at Pac for a moment, “Real name please. Aliases aren’t allowed within the system.”

He swallowed, “Pac.”

“That’s a good name, why hide it?” Bagi asked as she leant against the desk and smirked, Minho kept his resting face but his eyes shone with interest.

“Uh, I just… didn’t want to be found out.” The response didn't sound at all true or honest in Pac's ears but he hoped Bagi didn't notice.

“If you're done with your chatter I would like to continue. Sir Pac, I’m going to need your full name.”

Pac visibly shook at the request as he drummed his fingers gently against the side of the desk nervously, “Pac Tazer Tw.”

“Ahhh, so Tazer’s your middle name. Honestly, it makes sense now.” Bagi smiled rather brightly at the information being said.

“Date of Birth?”

“July 26th, 1995.”

“Place of birth?”

He took a glance at Bagi before focusing back to the receptionist, nerves were wracking heavily through his system, he couldn’t keep still for more than a millisecond. He adjusted his stance over and over as he continued to answer question after question, “Londrina, Brazil.”

“Okay, seems you’re good to go. I can manage the rest with this information.” She began to click and clack around on her keyboard and mouse before pressing her glasses up to her nose and focusing her attention on Minho and Bagi. “Please put him in holding cell 102. It should be ready for him.”

And with that, Pac was placed in his cell, nerves and fear still effecting his body as the door shut and locked and the two officers ordered him to sleep before walking away. Pac honestly wasn’t even going to resist the orders, he needed to escape reality as soon as he could, his world felt like it was falling apart and he couldn’t cope.

He lay down on the thin mattress and rested his head against the hard pillow, adjusting the blanket-like duvet before shutting his eyes. Sleep seemed to take its toll quicker than Pac had initially expected as he fell asleep in an instant, the chaos from today subsiding and waiting for its grand return tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Pac was abruptly awoken by Bagi, her yelling going through one ear and out the other as he adjusted to the harsh atmosphere, the lights straining his eyes as he squinted to see Bagi lent against the cell’s door frame. 

He stretched his arms out into the open and dragged himself up to sit on the side of the bed. His back ached and was definitely sore as hell from the sleep. He was shocked that he even managed to fall asleep as the discomfort of the bed was really getting to him after coping with it for the past week or so.

‘You have your court hearing in a couple of minutes, get changed and I will come get you.’ Bagi informed briefly, walking away straight afterwards as she didn’t want to breach Pac’s privacy as he changed and she didn’t want to start another argument with Pac as that was something that frequently happened in the mornings.

He got himself up off the bed, clicking his back in the process hoping that it would release all of the cramps. He threw on his orange scrubs over his white t-shirt, and then proceeded to comb his hair out with his dirty fingers to make it look somewhat presentable for court. He approached the sink, turning the tap on and splashing his face with the cold water. It wasn’t as refreshing as Pac hoped it would be but it did the job nonetheless.

Bagi reappeared five minutes later and unlocked the door, signalling for Pac to step out and put his hands behind his back so she could cuff them. Making sure the handcuffs were properly on his wrists was mandatory as Pac was a slippery criminal, always finding a way out of things.

‘They’re too tight.’ Pac complained, scoffing at the woman as he frantically wiggled his wrists around to get the point across. He hated this officer as she was always retaliating back with some stupid excuse.

‘Well you’re going to have to cope with it because I’m not redoing them.’ She dropped his wrists allowing his arms to move freely behind him briefly. Pac smirked to himself as he swung his leg at her ankle, causing her to stumble on her feet but she successfully caught herself just in time. Bagi glared at Pac with disgust and disinterest, his famous cheeky grin plastered on his face.

‘I said fix them.’ Pac wiggled his arms out behind his back once more, jokingly pouting at her as he practically begged for her to loosen them. He watched as the woman eyed him up and then proceeded to go behind him and loosen the cuffs. It felt refreshing once they were just right and not denting his skin as much.

He arrived at court and was instructed to sit on the left side of his lawyer, the seat to his right being for Mike. Honestly he didn’t understand why him and Mike even needed a lawyer at this point. It was obvious that they were guilty and if the judge didn’t see that then they were blind as hell. They just needed to figure out the duo’s sentencing and how long they would be locked up for.

The news agencies and press were also included in the room, having their cameras practically shoved in Pac’s face as he took his seat. Pac hated how the cameras basically followed Mike and him everywhere. It stressed him out and it made him a more enclosed person, hiding his true self away and trying to live up to the strong, powerful profile he had built up for the public to see.

Mike followed on shortly after Pac, being dragged in by five police officers instead of the usual two. Mike was definitely the most agitated one of the two, always resisting orders and being noncompliant was a big trait of his. He had a strong contempt for the police and showed that accordingly. Mike would get very rowdy very quickly and Pac seeing his best friend practically being yanked into the court room wasn’t an unfamiliar sight to say the least.

‘Meu dues, don’t fucking yank me like that! Who do you think you are?’ Mike protested, finally being seated at his assigned chair. He scoffed and threw several Portuguese swears at them under his breath as the officers walked away to their sides of the room.

The judge could finally start the session, ordering for the officers to guard any exit that could be taken advantage of before starting.

‘Everyone please rise.’ She ordered, allowing everybody to follow the command and then gesturing for them to sit themselves back down. She opened up the evidence folder on her desk and began to go through it with the jury and the lawyers. Bringing up videos and images of the duo at the crime scene and afterwards. It was very obvious that it was them that had robbed the store and Tazercraft’s lawyer was struggling to keep up a valid argument.

Eventually he gave up and chose to take a different approach. He began to bring up Pac and Mike’s past as an argument for why they would do such a thing as to rob a jewellery store armed. He did not inform Tazercraft of this and went into extreme detail, including evidence such as videos, images, documents and more.

Mike and Pac’s past was complicated to say the least and it was incredibly tragic. Having been chucked at the doorstep of an orphanage at the age of two, never knowing their family and never having a parental figure. They only had each other but that was enough for them. They struggled with money once they were thrown out of the orphanage when they turned 18. Having to fight on their own and somehow figuring out how to find a well paying job to afford a place to stay. 

They chose to live with a close friend for around two years before having enough money to move out. They lived in a small apartment that they rented together, barely being able to make ends meet. Most of the time they couldn’t afford food for the week. Mike was the one that started the whole being a criminal thing, suggesting robbing the local supermarket at gunpoint seemed like such a good idea at the time. Especially since they were simply hungry and they just desperately wanted to live a normal life.

So they began getting the products to play out the plan, buying black balaclavas and two pistols each. They got some bags to put the money and food products in and then set out towards the store. They fled successfully, never being caught for their crime.

The feeling of adrenaline that ran through their bodies when pointing a gun to the poor cashier's chest was addicting so they continued to rob and threaten people, considering it as a hobby. It was fun and they were practically famous, wanted posters all over the place for them but their identities were still miraculously hidden until they were finally caught at the age of twenty three after being recorded on a secret security camera of their local bank. It was a risky decision to rob a bank anyway but they were brought into the station and forced to serve two years in prison. 

They were repeatedly in and out of prison after that point, serving for two or three months at a time. It unknowingly destroyed their mental health, slowly chipping away at their happiness. They appeared at the police station so often that they knew every little thing about each individual cop which is probably why they were now moved to a much more protected and servallianced institution.

And that’s what brings them here in this courtroom today. Mike’s eyes filled with tears as he felt himself break. He didn’t like thinking about his and Pac’s past as it made him overthink his entire life, he would always feel the guilt of dragging Pac down this god awful path with him. The guilt spreading through his entire being. Mike could feel the rage building in him, ready to collapse at any moment, his only thought consisting of the trauma he had to endure and the horrible flashbacks flashing in front of his very eyes as if he was reliving them all over again.

Mike liked to hold a strong powerful image. He didn’t like people knowing his and Pac’s backstory as it brought Mike back to reality. It made him realise all of the trauma and situations him and Pac had to go through. And now the whole city knew! He hated being seen as a weak, fragile individual and he hated seeing Pac being treated like one as well. So he took matters into his own hands.

Pac had clocked Mike’s clearly visible anger, his friend’s leg bouncing rapidly underneath the table, his hands clenching into a fist. Pac knew what was coming and honestly, was too tired physically and mentally to stop it.

Mike lunged forwards and swung at the lawyer, successfully hitting his cheekbone causing him to fall to the ground, blood from his mouth dripped down his face and onto the carpet. Mike gritted his teeth and grinned, his fist bloody and bruised as he was dragged away from the room screaming until he was breathless. The judge quickly called for order in the court and paramedics aided the poor man that was now laying knocked out on the floor. She gave out the duo’s sentencing which consisted of five years with no probation, although Mike was given an extra two months for his lashing out. Only then could she commence the session to be over.

Pac was lifted from his seat by two officers including Bagi and dragged away by the arms. The room was chaotic but the hallway leading to the parking lot was worse. All Pac could hear was the gut wrenching screams of his best friend being dragged into a cop car.

‘GET THE FUCK OFF ME!’ Mike would scream over and over again as he scraped his feet against the rough concrete beneath him, begging for them to let him go. He was panting and hyperventilating. The stress and anger that filled his body was too much for him to handle and all he could do to counteract it was scream at the top of his poor lungs.

As Pac approached the vehicles he saw the sad sight of Mike in the cop car, crying his big heart out, kicking the chairs and eventually being driven away. Pac hated seeing Mike like this as it was absolutely heart wrenching. Mike was such a big person but when his past was ever brought up he would turn into a sad dishevelled man who just needed comfort. It made Pac want to just hug him so tight that he wouldn’t be able to breath, giving him words of appreciation but in this specific situation he couldn’t do anything, practically standing there helpless as he watched his friend break himself down until he was nothing but a ball of rage and sadness.

Pac tried to take the image out of his mind, feeling the tears that were beginning to well up in the corner of his eyes at the thought of Mike just completely shutting down and crying. He couldn’t cry now. Not in front of the police, the news agents being right outside the enclosed parking lot. 

He obeyed the officers’ orders, not giving any snarky comments back like he usually would. Instead he sat there in the car, his arms behind his back and his hands cuffed. The engine began and they proceeded to drive the car out of the lot and towards the prison.

‘You’re awfully quiet today.’ Bagi stated, turning to face Pac who was mindlessly watching life go by through his window. He felt like his life was falling apart right in front of him. His feelings building up higher and higher just waiting for the right time to fall down and show themselves. All his built up sadness finally finding their way to Pac’s mind as he really took in his situation and how he has ended up. Thinking about his younger self staring back at him now, standing in front of him and simply turning around and walking away at the sight of his older self. His younger self would stand there speechless, scanning the wreck of a person he was now. He couldn’t even recognize himself anymore.

In the mornings he would stand in the bathroom mirror and simply not know who was staring back at him, he didn’t know what happened to cause him to get this bad.

Pac didn’t say anything, he was trapped in his own mind and feared that if he spoke he would break down and the tears would finally pour out. He didn’t want that so he chose not to speak.

‘Know that we are here for you. Even if it seems like we are just bitchy officers that are just getting their job done.’ Bagi felt her heart ache at the sight of Pac who was just weeks ago a sly and exhilarated young man and was now a complete wreck. Shutting himself down entirely. This side was never seen by anyone, not even Pac himself and Bagi couldn’t help but sympathise with him. Because even if every conversation that they’ve ever had had turned into an argument she generally cared about him and his future. 

‘I’m fine.’ Pac bluntly spoke, he felt a tear trickle down his cheek and he softly picked up his hand to wipe it away. 

‘Well we’re nearly here and I would recommend getting all your emotions out here in the car as the inmates in this prison are ruthless.’ Bagi warned, turning herself back around and focusing on the road.

In this prison? Is this a new prison? The thought of a new prison terrified Pac. Being the newbies in a prison was the worst as you knew nobody and they knew nothing about you. One simple slip up could end up with everyone hating you. You really had to toughen yourself up and prepare yourself mentally and physically.

Pac was scared. He was afraid to admit it but he was actually scared. He suspected that the prison was going to be on high alert and considering the amount of times Pac and Mike had been in and out it was going to be a place full of extreme offenders. People like serial killers and even the worst type of criminal he had unfortunately come across, 2b2t inmates. 

2b2t inmates were the scariest psychopaths that you could ever encounter. The amount of torture and trauma they suffer whilst trying to survive in the wastelands effects their mental state in the worst way possible. Causing them to become insane, making them want to kill anything that moves. This is what made Pac fear this so-called new prison so much. But instead of overthinking about it, he simply just rested his head on the head rest behind him and waited for them to arrive as his emotions took the better of him. Slowly engulfing him whole.

Chapter Text

Pac stood alone in the middle of the cell house. To say it was intimidating would be an understatement. His small heart pounded against the walls of his chest as he took in his new home. When arriving the prison was massive and towered over him, it was bigger than any other lockup he had been thrown in. The size and look of the place was menacing, and it was even worse once he was led through the main doors, knowing that there was no going back.

The screams and yelling from the other inmates echoed through the halls from outside as everyone else was participating in outdoor activities, the sound practically bouncing off of the barricades in Pac’s head. It felt like he was trapped in his body, like he didn’t have control of himself. That’s when he caught a glimpse of Mike who was sitting on the first step that led up to the second floor of cells, his head resting in his hands as his body subtly rocked back and forth.

‘Mike?’ Pac approached him cautiously, not knowing what kind of state he was in. Mike lifted his head, he had dried tears running down his cheeks and his eyes were slumped, he was exhausted and just wanted today to be over and done with. His heart hurt and he was terrified, but he didn’t show it, instead he picked himself up off the stairs and put on a stern face, yet again hiding away his emotions.

Pac was worried about him, he always was. But he didn’t press any further as Mike brought him in for a brief but loving hug, a hug that held so many emotions that were left unsaid. 

‘We should probably get ready to meet all the others, I’m assuming they are as terrifying as they sound so we need to step up our game.’ Mike ran his hand down his face as he gazed at Pac, looking for some sort of suggestion. He didn’t know what to do as it felt like he was coming down from a high, his body ached as he searched for ideas.

‘I guess we could just be more menacing? I mean we already are menacing but it wouldn’t hurt to step it up a notch?.’ Pac suggested, his hands resting on his hips.

‘I think that’s the best thing we’ve got so far so why not, we can give it a go.’ Mike sighed, ‘We just have to hope that there are no 2b2t inmates in this facility as I’m not having another arm incident.’ Mike laughed as his eyes dragged down to where a large scar ran up Pac’s arm.

Previously Pac had gotten into a heated encounter with a 2b2t criminal, he was angry and wanted some thrill, stupidly deciding to rile up the individual which led to his arm being sliced open. It was painful and extremely traumatic but he now used it as a way to make people fear him. That he wasn’t scared of shit and he was a force to be reckoned with.

Pac’s jaw dropped as he hit Mike’s shoulder in retaliation, ‘How dare you! I think that I would’ve won that if they didn’t pull out a sword. I mean who even gets a sword in prison!’ Pac exaggerated as he wafted his arms in the air in offence.

‘Yeah yeah whatever you say idiota.’ Mike scoffed as he sat himself down at one of the tables relaxing himself a little. When all of a sudden the loud sound of doors swinging open caught Mike’s attention.

Pac swung his whole body around to face the big double doors, as a mix of inmates marched through them like a stampede. Yet, they all stopped in their tracks at the sight of Pac and Mike. Confusion lingering on each of their faces.

A man not much taller than Pac stepped forward, approaching the two with a sense of obedience and power, as if he owned the place. He laughed to himself at the sight of them, obviously oblivious to who they were.

‘Looks like we have new meat to play with!’ He joked, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, suddenly another man stepped out to push him back into the crowd, fear and embarrassment scattered all over his face.

‘Sorry about him man, he’s a bit crazy.’ He laughed breathlessly, rubbing the back of his neck and then running his hand through his deep brown hair. ‘I’m Roier, nice to see new people for once.’ He pushed his hand forward as if asking for a shake in which Pac and Mike returned it although Mike was sceptical. He didn’t trust him at all, and he especially didn’t trust this so-called crazy guy. But he still tried his best to push the negative thoughts away and actually give these guys a chance for once.

‘Im Pac and this is Mike.’ Pac pushed a smile onto his face as he pulled his hand away from Roier’s grasp. His heart pounded in his chest with fear as the man from earlier stepped forward once again, shoving his hand into Pac’s personal space, promptly asking for a shake as well.

Mike shivered at the sudden gesture, glancing at Pac with a worried stare that spoke the words that Mike couldn’t say out loud. Pac took a deep breath as he took the man’s hand, in which the man shook it aggressively, a sly and hungry look on his face as he grinned, never breaking eye contact.

Pac pulled away as soon as the shake started, rubbing his hand on his scrubs and looking back at Mike who was giving the man a death stare.

‘I’m Cellbit, nice to meet new meat.’ Pac took a step back, fear filling his body as he watched the man eye him up. That’s when Mike stood in, guarding Pac with his body as he stared Cellbit down. 

‘I think you’ve said enough.’ Mike darted back at him, crossing his arms authoritatively. Cellbit scoffed, an angered look spreading on his face as he walked back into the crowd, taking his place next to Roier who stared back at the duo with an apologetic smile.

Another man walked up to them, he was like a polar opposite of the previous two, his long blonde hair tied in a ponytail. He wore a green and white striped hat and a purple ribbon was tied neatly on his scrubs. His smile was gentle and caring as he also took his hand out for a shake. Pac felt safe with this man almost instantly, shaking his hand and smiling back at him.

‘I’m Phil, nice to meet you mate.’ He was probably the most normal person they had encountered today. ‘I suppose you two are new around here, don’t mind Cellbit, he is fine unless he’s on one of his manic episodes. But that doesn’t happen often.’ Phil laughed nervously, looking back at Cellbit who was in the process of arguing with Roier.

Mike swallowed harshly, the lump in his throat not moving as he looked back at Phil, ‘What’s he in here for anyway?’ Mike questioned, his hands resting on his hips.

‘Oh well it’s kind of a long story.’ Phil simply put. Pac could sense that there was something more sinister to it but he didn’t press further. Except Mike did. Mike had to know everything or otherwise he wouldn’t feel safe. He liked to know people’s weaknesses and strengths, and what they were capable of. Just in case something ever happened. And especially if they were talking about a man that went through manic episodes as you never know what to expect.

‘That wasn’t my question though.’ Mike snapped back

Phil laughed nervously to himself once more, his breath becoming hasty at the sudden aggressiveness in Mike’s tone. ‘Well, he’s in here for cannibalism, but he doesn’t eat people anymore, he just likes to joke about it.’ Phil was obviously hiding something from the two, his posture changed as he brought up Cellbit’s habit.

Pac felt his body freeze from the sentence. His mind filled with different scenarios as his anxiety began to heighten. Mike knew there was something more. He watched as Pac froze on the spot, his eyes shot open in fear and his mouth tightly closed shut. He took Pac’s hand in comfort, helping a little bit as Pac snapped back into reality.

‘What happens during his episodes?’ Mike asked, his aggressive tone dropping slightly but still lingering. Phil just looked blankly back, his heart racing in his chest. He wasn’t made for explaining such distressing topics. He looked back at the crowd behind him, almost like he was asking for some sort of help.

That’s when yet another man comes up to stand by Phil's side. A beanie neatly sat on the top of his head covering his jet black hair strategically. He patted Phil on the shoulder then turned his attention to Pac and Mike.

‘I’m Quackity, it’s lovely to meet you.’ Quackity simply put, not pushing his hand forward for a shake like the others. He seemed more unclosed and serious than anyone else. He reminded Mike of himself, emotions kept hidden out of the way. 

‘Is anyone going to answer my fucking question?’ Mike gritted his teeth in annoyance as he impatiently anticipated a response, tapping his foot on the floor and crossing his arms over his chest.

‘Oh right, yes sorry.’ Quackity began, ‘He gets a bit psycho and goes back to his cannibalistic ways, when it happens we keep him locked in a room until it’s over or otherwise he might attack someone and cause a fatal injury.’ He paused for a second, as if he was reminiscing memories from a time that Cellbit had attacked someone. He shuddered at the thought. ‘It’s not a pretty sight.’

Pac was on the verge of throwing up, the thought of someone eating someone else for fun was disgusting. Imaging that type of scenario was not something Pac wanted in his mind.

The room fell silent for a split second before someone more intriguing walked towards the front, standing on the other side of Phil, his eyes slumped in a threatening way. He was bald and his brown eyes shone in the light as his fluffy eyebrows furrowed. He narrowly stared the two down, arms crossed over his chest. He was extremely menacing, Mike almost instantly going back to protecting Pac with his body, still holding his hand tightly.

Pac wasn’t as afraid, he was more mesmerised. This man was gorgeous, under all of the aggression and fierceness he saw a lovely man with a nice heart.

The mysterious man lifted his head in curiosity as he relaxed a little, his muscular figure catching Pac’s eyes a bit too much as a red flush grew rapidly on his cheeks.

‘We don’t take new people lightly, watch your fucking step.’ The man’s deep voice boomed in Pac’s mind, making him fall even further in love. Pac never believed in love at first sight but here he was, standing in front of a man that was basically threatening to kill him but all he could think about was how handsome he was.

‘And watch your fucking tone!’ Mike darted back, feeling intimidated by the man’s presence. He looked back at Pac just to see him blushing a bright red and becoming a wobbly mess. Mike rolled his eyes in amusement, almost immediately catching on to what was happening. He decided to play along a little. It wouldn’t hurt teasing his friend.

‘My friend Pac here would love to introduce himself!’ Mike exaggerated as he gestured towards Pac who was giving Mike a death stare. The stronger man turned his attention to Pac and immediately dropped his aggressive demeanour, letting his arms drop to his side. 

‘Hey I’m Fit, it’s uh- nice to meet you!’ Fit spoke, nerves crashing into him like a truck. His hand shook as he pushed it towards Pac, asking for a shake in return. Pac swallowed roughly as he brought himself enough courage to take Fit’s hand. The other’s hand was calloused but it fit into Pac’s like a missing puzzle piece, sparks practically visible in the air when their skin touched. Fit took Pac’s hand gently in his, shaking it as softly as possible. It was weird for such a strong and fierce man to be so gentle. They held each other's hands for a moment longer before Phil stepped in, a fed up look on his face.

‘Alright, this lovey dovey stuff can be saved for later. It’s time for dinner.’ Phil pushed the two apart, their hands separating and Pac immediately longing for the touch again, missing the gentleness from Fit’s hand. Fit rubbed the back of his neck and hit the side of Phil’s shoulder jokingly. 

‘What the fuck man? Calm down!’ Fit practically yelled in retaliation, going back to his usual intimidating self as he furrowed his brows once again. He scoffed at Phil who was giggling to himself. Mike was giving Pac the same treatment.

Dinner came and Tazercraft decided to sit with Fit and Phil’s group. Phil had introduced them to a couple more people that were in the group, giving a detailed description of who they were.

First came Tubbo. He was known as the ‘child’ of the group even though he was twenty. He had an obsession with mechanics and was extremely snarky, always inputting his thoughts and opinions in the funniest way possible. Some would say he was annoying but others closer to him would consider him a spark of joy. 

Next came Missa. Phil said he considered Missa as a very close friend but Pac would catch Phil looking at him in a way that spoke volumes. Missa was a very family oriented man, very loving and very creative. He was a great artist and musician.

Then there was Foolish. Foolish was similar to Tubbo except he had no interest in mechanics at all. Foolish was charming and good looking but incredibly stupid half of the time. He was hilarious, always cracking the most stupid jokes making the whole table laugh, including Mike!

Next was Charlie. He was also a hilarious individual, and had a weird obsession with slime that no one ever dared to question him on. Phil says he has caught Charlie eating slime in his cell after hours and has nicknamed him Slime or Slimecicle because of it. Charlie loved to jumpscare people and joke about all sorts of different things.

And lastly there was Fit. Phil described Fit as an old childhood friend. They had met when serving in a war in their teens and had reunited in prison a decade later. Fit was a wasteland veteran meaning he was from 2b2t. He was in prison for around forty different crimes and he was serving a life long sentence. He was a sweetheart if he liked u and knew u on a personal level but most of the time Phil described him as being a jackass. He loved to threaten people as when he saw others cower under him it thrilled him. He didn’t like dropping his mean man persona but Phil explained that underneath it all he had a gentle and kind heart. Phil told Pac that he had never seen Fit drop his barriers so quickly for someone before and that Pac should consider himself lucky that he hadn’t tried to fight him already.

Pac prodded the meal in front of him, if the meal could even be considered food. The smell made Pac physically sick, practically gagging at the thought of what the slop on his plate would taste like. Lifting a mouthful onto his tongue and almost immediately gagging it back up.

‘Yeah I’m not touching that shit if you're throwing it up like that.’ Mike laughed to himself as he dramatically pushed the plate away from him, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms over his chest.

Pac let out a wheezy cough, trying not to throw the food back up onto the table. He finally calmed himself, swallowing the mouthful and feeling it ruffly go down his throat, also deciding to push the plate away from him. He was hungry but not hungry enough to make himself suffer like that.

‘It always tastes like shit you just have to get used to it.’ Fit spoke, his eyes fixated on the food in front of him as he ate it like it was nothing, basically licking his plate clean. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his scrubs and pushed the plate away from him, looking up briefly to catch Pac’s gaze. It was a quick look but it held so many words and emotions that Pac and Fit couldn’t quite put their fingers on.

Pac quickly looked away, fiddling with his fork in embarrassment as he stared down at the table. Mike rolled his eyes as he kicked his friend’s foot jokingly. Seeing him fumble so hard was hilarious. He hadn’t seen Pac fall for someone in a while and if you asked Mike he would say that his other half was shit at flirting. He didn’t even question why Pac was so single as it was quite obvious.

‘Fucking hell that was the worst flirting I’ve ever seen!’ Tubbo practically yelled, smacking his hand on the table and wheezing out a laugh. Fit spun his head around to face him almost immediately, nearly breaking his neck in the process. His threatening eyes stared into Tubbo’s soul as he gritted his teeth in annoyance. 

Tubbo continued to laugh to himself, holding his stomach from how much he was giggling. ‘Shut the fuck up.’ Fit scoffed, his hands running down his face hiding the flush on his cheeks in embarrassment.

‘Hey you didn’t deny it!’ Tubbo pointed out, eyebrows shooting up in shock. Fit banged his head against the table. Proceeding to pick himself up out of his seat and smacking the other round the head. It was an aggressive and painful slap, practically echoing in the room. He then let his feet walk himself out of the cafeteria and towards the cell house. 

Phil rolled his eyes, dropping his fork and glaring at Tubbo who was holding his head in agony, wincing at the touch of his own hand as the pain trickled through his entire body. ‘Now look at what you’ve done.’ Phil shook his head in disbelief. Tubbo loved to rile Fit up. It was like a hobby of his.

Pac’s cheeks were coloured a bright red as he nervously looked around the table. He could sense the tension in the air as Tubbo and Phil stared each other down. Luckily the ring of the bell indicating for the inmates to go back to their cells saved him from that awkward situation. Immediately taking Mike’s hand and speed walking out of the room.

The duo had been partnered up together. Their names displayed on signs indicating that it was their cell. Mike’s eyes shone with joy at the sight of the words, a big beaming smile littering his face. It was the first time in a while that Pac had seen Mike generally happy. 

Pac laid himself in his bed in the pitch black, looking up at the concrete ceiling imagining glistening stars creating gorgeous patterns in the sky. The thought of star gazing on an open field by himself, simply just taking in his surroundings and relaxing. He was lying there with just his thoughts as his company, Mike being fast asleep on the other side of the cell, snoring softly. Pac sighed, finally being able to relax after the last couple of days.

His life felt like it was finally getting back on track. Things were getting better. He had met a man that he had fallen in love with and there was even a small chance of there actually being a spark between them. He had met new people that he considered a joy to be around, people that actually made him feel welcomed and loved.

He smiled at the thought, the fluttering feeling in his chest reappearing as he imagined Fit approaching him in his star gaze, lying beside him not saying a word. Just simply wrapping his arm around Pac’s shoulder and pulling him into a caring hug, watching the stars connect together to create shapes and pictures.

The thought alone allowed his droopy eyes to close, the stars appearing in his mind as he drifted off into a deep slumber, the only sound being Mike’s quiet snoring, lulling him to sleep.

Chapter Text

Pac had spent the first hours of the morning searching for the gym. He wanted to get a workout done today before the day properly started and he’d thought it’d be better to have some sort of productivity in his life to keep it on track. 

Mike was the one to suggest it. He said that it was best for Pac to keep his physical fitness intact and that it would be good for his mental health. Pac felt lucky to have Mike constantly by his side and looking out for him. He always gave him good advice. Making sure Pac was healthy and looking after himself seemed like his first priority. It was like Mike put Pac’s wellbeing before his own.

Although, since he was never really given a tour of the prison it seemed like Pac was just wandering around aimlessly through the empty halls, looking into every room he passed hoping it’d be the one he was looking for. His legs were beginning to ache and he was beginning to give up, it wasn’t worth this much effort to just work on his core strength. He thought that he might as well just turn around and go with Mike later on in the day. He didn’t really feel very safe walking around on his own anyway. It was silent, the only noise being his footsteps that echoed through the halls. It was kind of nerve wracking. Mistaking his own steps for someone else's. He felt like he was going crazy.

He felt the second pair of feet get closer and closer, his heart was racing in the walls of his chest as he chose to ignore it and carry on walking. Yet he couldn’t just ignore it. He had to check, he had to know where the sound was coming from. He felt like he was just being paranoid, that the last couple of days had caused his mind to run wild. He felt stupid for even thinking someone else was with him. 

Except he decided to turn his head around, looking over his shoulder just to check, just to put his mind at ease and continue peacefully with his task. 

But it’s when Pac caught the eyes of a far too familiar face walking directly behind him, so close that he was practically stepping on his feet. It made his heart jump into his throat. Smiling maniacally as the man stared into Pac’s fearful eyes, laughing to himself at the sight. ‘Hey Pac.’ Cell spoke, watching as Pac stopped in his steps, backing himself slowly to avoid whatever Cellbit had in mind.

‘What the fuck! Why are you just following me?’ Pac practically screamed in fear. He had been warned by his group that Cellbit was not to be messed with. If you’re associated with people that he doesn’t like he won’t be afraid to throw a few hits. Pac held his breath as he watched Cell clench his fists tightly. Although Pac held his ground, he was taught by Mike to never back down unless a gun or knife was involved. He wanted to be the bigger person, to intimidate Cellbit, to make Mike proud. But it seemed to not have worked as the other simply just laughed to himself.

‘Do you really think that I’m scared of you?’ He cackled, cornering Pac as he gritted his teeth. ‘Now listen here. You have two options. Either you tell Mike to sort his fucking shit out or I deal with you myself. Which tickles your fancy?’ He grinned an ugly smile back at Pac. 

Pac felt his breath hitch at the sentence, all the built up fear now pouring out as his bigger person demeanour was completely destroyed. Yet he didn’t want Mike in shit. He’d rather have the hits be thrown at him than his soulmate. The guilt that would’ve spread through his being if Mike was attacked because he was selfish enough to not take the punch for him.

‘Don’t fucking touch Mike you piece of shit.’ Pac retaliated, narrowing his eyes at Cell whose smile just got bigger at the answer. He prepared himself for the worst, knowing the other was a cannibal, anything could happen.

‘Perfect! I felt like hitting something today. Looks like I found just the right person.’ He darted his tongue out to lick his lips as he riled his arm back, preparing to swing. And swing he did. Hitting Pac right in the jaw, an iron taste tickling his tongue. Blood trickled down the other’s mouth, dripping onto his orange scrubs as he frantically held his face with his shaky hands. Pac cried out as a final swing hit his nose, blood beginning to pour down yet again. It looked like he had come out of a murder scene, his whole bottom half of his face was drenched in a deep red. His hand shook wildly as he looked back up at Cellbit who was licking the blood off of his bruised fist. 

‘You’re a fucking PYSCHO!’ Pac screamed in pain. His whole jaw felt dislodged. He felt like his life was fading from his very eyes. His face grew paler at the second as blood just kept pouring and pouring.

‘I’ll leave you to it. See you around.’ Cellbit laughed, turning on his heel and walking back down the hall. Pac ran like his life depended on it, making his way down the corridors, blood dripping onto the floor behind him like a trail. 

He swung the cell house’s doors open, Mike being the first to turn around, only to see the horrific sight which was Pac. ‘What the fuck?’ Mike’s eyes shot open, running up to Pac who was crying his poor heart out, blood just kept dripping. He was scared. He didn’t want to die.

Phil and the others caught on quickly as they also caught a glimpse of Pac. Fit especially. They all ran up to him, giving anything they had to stop the bleeding. Fit, being a 2b2t veteran, grabbed a mini first aid kit from his pocket and pushed the crowd out the way, making his way to Mike and Pac who were sitting on the floor in the middle of the cell house.

He quickly opened up the little case, pulling out bandaids, stitches and some wipes. He got to work. First pulling his orange jacket off to reveal a white vest underneath, handing the piece of clothing to Pac who used it to keep the bleeding from his nose under control. ‘Who in their right mind would do this?’ Mike gritted, his fist clenching as his anger grew and grew. 

‘Cellbit that’s who.’ Phil spoke from the side of Mike, holding Pac’s hand in reassurance, squeezing it tightly as Pac shuddered from the sudden coldness of a damp cloth. Fit finished cleaning up most of the blood from Pac’s jaw and began stitching it up. Being careful not to hurt the other too much, he was probably the best in the prison to be doing this anyway.

‘I’ll fucking kill him, you hear me!’ Mike yelled, spitting his words as he mimicked a fake fight in the air, showing off his skills. Phil giggled to himself, trying to bring some sort of joy into this dreadful situation.

‘Not if I do it first.’ Fit bluntly put, his anger was incredibly visible but he didn’t show it in his voice. Pac’s stomach fluttered at the sentence. The thought of Fit fighting Cellbit for him made his cheeks a rosy red. If Fit noticed he didn’t question it, instead he finally finished up with the stitches and luckily the blood had stopped dripping from Pac’s nose by now.

Once Fit was done, he gave Pac a soft smile, a smile that held so much emotion that was left unsaid. Pac smiled back the best he could with the stitches on his jaw. Mike shuffled closer to bring his soulmate into a long caring hug. He knew that if the two were alone, Mike would be bawling his eyes out in fear. But somehow he kept it all together. 

‘How on earth do we deal with this then?’ Tubbo asked from the sidelines, he stood next to Foolish, Charlie and Missa who had witnessed the whole ordeal. Phil shrugged his shoulders in return. ‘Well that’s helpful isn’t it Phil.’ Tubbo scoffed jokingly. Tubbo always somehow managed to bring some sort of joy into bad situations. It was like his secret superpower.

‘I’ll deal with it. Don’t worry about it.’ Fit answered, standing himself up and patting Tubbo on the shoulder. Pac, looked up from the floor. He wanted to watch Fit beat up Cell so badly but he knew it’d be weird to ask. Mike helped Pac up, letting him lean on him as he walked him across the cell house and into their cell which was hidden away in a corner. Pac dropped onto the bed, there goes his productive day that he was going on about.

‘You need to get some rest, it’ll help the wounds heal.’ Mike spoke softly, brushing a few stray hairs from the other’s face. Pac smiled gently, nodding his head slowly as he closed his eyes.

Fit entered the outdoor area, he was furious. Clenching his fits in an aggressive manner as he eyed up his target. Cellbit who stood with Roier and Quackity. He gritted his teeth at the sly look that was plastered on the cannibal’s face. Something about the way Cell looked agitated Fit to a whole new level, motivating him even more.

He wanted to show Cellbit that he was a force to be reckoned with. He wanted him to know not to mess with Pac ever again or otherwise he’d have to deal with him. His heart ached at the faint image of Pac who was so scared on the floor, blood just streaming down his face onto the concrete underneath him. Fit was so upset that he wasn’t there to help him. He wasn’t there to save him from Cellbit’s horrible antics.

He finally approached the other. Cell turned to face Fit and before he could even say anything he was on the floor, blood pouring from his nose as Fit swung at him over and over, messing his face up and causing blood to drip onto the freshly cut grass.

Cell’s screams echoed in Fit’s ears, motivating him more and more as the man underneath him begged for his life. ‘STOP PLEASE FIT!’ He would scream over and over. ‘SOMEONE FUCKING STOP HIM’ He swung his arms out frantically, trying to push the taller off of him, but Fit just simply pinned his arms down with his legs. Fit must’ve looked crazy, he felt himself grinning from ear to ear, laughing maniacally at the sight of the terrified man struggling under him. Cell couldn’t do anything but scream in pain. The agonising noises ringing in his mind.

His fists were bruised and hurt but he didn’t stop. He wanted Cellbit to know how it felt. How it felt to be beaten up, to be humiliated. He wanted Pac to know that he cared. Cellbit was knocked out cold on the floor by the time Roier and Quackity managed to pull him off. ‘What the fuck man?’ Roier screamed, tears pouring from his eyes as he crouched down to Cell who was smothered in his and Fit’s blood, his eyes closed shut as blood just kept dripping from his face and body.

‘He fucking deserved it.’ Fit screamed, pulling himself out of Quackity’s grasp and backing away. They had created a crowd, most people cheering but others crouching down to help Cellbit. Fit had decided to flee before officers arrived to aid the man on the floor. His work was done anyway, he just needed to clean himself up.

Thrill filled his body, he hadn’t fought someone like that since the wastelands. He kind of missed it, the joy of beating people up who fucking deserved it. It was about time Cellbit suffered for his actions anyway. Everybody was too scared to even approach him about it, let alone swing at him.

Fit entered the cell house once more, everyone turning to face him in shock. ‘You actually did it?’ Charlie stuttered, his eyes glancing down at Fit’s bloody fists and scrubs. Fit wiped his lips with his hand as he spat out onto the floor, the taste of iron lingering in his mouth. He felt proud of himself. He felt like he had made Pac proud.

‘Of course I fucking did.’ 

‘It was about time someone showed him what it felt like.’ Phil said, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the wall. Tubbo jumped up and down, asking a million questions at once. ‘Did he scream? Did you knock him out? Is he dead? Is he bleeding out?’ He just kept asking and asking and Fit just ignored him, laughing to himself at the excitement in Tubbo’s face.

‘Yes, I knocked him out and he screamed, he’s not dead though.’ Fit cackled, finally making his way to the sink located in his cell on the lower floor, turning on the tap and washing the blood off of his hands and face. ‘Now could you leave me to change, you’re jumping up and down like a four year old.’

‘Now that’s just uncalled for.’ Tubbo scoffed, rolling his eyes as he made his way out of the cell and to the others. Fit rummaged around and found his spare scrubs underneath his bed, they weren’t as good as his old ones but he’d rather wear a pair that wasn’t drenched in another person’s blood.

Mike approached Fit, shaking his hand, a sense of respect lingering in his eyes. ‘Good job man, Pac deserves someone like you.’ He pushed a smile onto his face.

‘That means a lot from you, thank you Mike.’ Fit softly spoke, pulling his hand away from Mike’s grasp as the other turned to walk away back to the main group. Fit decided to make his way across to Pac’s cell. He wanted to tell him everything that happened, they hadn’t spoken much but they felt as close as ever.

To his surprise, as he entered the small room Pac was fast asleep, snoring quietly to himself. He looked so gorgeous, his hair framing his face perfectly as he curled up in the covers. He looked like he had no care in the world. 

Fit sat himself on the side of the bed and brushed the other’s hair out of his face. He took this time to just admire the man before him, taking in details that he had never noticed before like the matching tattoo on both of Pac’s arms, or the freckles that faintly littered his face, or the pacman shaped earrings in either ear. 

Mike had walked in at this point, standing in the doorway as he watched Fit admire Pac. Something about the way the other was looking at his best friend sparked a sense of relief in him. Fit looked at Pac with the amount of love and care that Mike did and he had only known him for a couple of days.

‘He’s handsome isn’t he.’ Mike chuckled. The sentence surprised Fit, causing him to swing his head around to face the other. He smiled at the sight of Mike. The emotions that were lingering in the room brought a sense of calm to him.

‘He is.’ Fit gently spoke, being careful with his words, like he was stepping on glass. He didn’t want Mike to get the wrong impression of him, even though he wasn’t a good person he still wanted to be on Mike’s good side if he wanted something more with Pac.

‘He generally deserves someone like you, the way I’ve heard him talk about you speaks volumes.’ Mike giggled to himself as he crossed his arms. He watched as Fit grew a bright red, his face cowerding in embarrassment.

‘That’s so sweet of him.’ Fit stuttered, running his hand along his neck as his nerves kicked him in the stomach. ‘I really hope he heals quickly, he didn’t deserve any of that.’ Fit’s tone landed more serious than he anticipated but he didn't mind much.

‘He always suffers for me, I always tell him he doesn’t have to but he does it anyway,’ Mike sighed, ‘I’m just hoping Cellbit doesn’t take it a step further and eat him or something.’ Mike joked but a sense of seriousness lingered in his voice. Fit didn’t reply. He hadn’t thought about Cellbit retaliating. He had witnessed it happen before but he didn’t think that Cell still had it in him to do it again.

The last time it happened Cell had beaten up some random inmate. The said inmate punched him back the next day and things escalated from there. It ended up with everyone waking up in the middle of the night from the horrifying screams of the individual. They were laid on their bed in their room and Cellbit had ripped multiple fingers off. He was chewing on them like a maniac.

He didn’t want that for Pac, god he didn’t want that. It would be his fault if it ever happened, the guilt would never leave him. Fit had suffered from the loss of a limb himself, a metal arm hung tightly on his left arm. He didn’t want Pac to have to deal with the same thing. He couldn’t even bring himself to imagine the disgusting sight of Pac bleeding out on the floor whilst Cellbit ate whatever limb he got a hold of, the thought alone nearly made Fit gag.

He decided to leave the conversation, saying his goodbyes to Mike and making his way to his own cell to rest his eyes for a bit. He didn’t want these ugly thoughts in his head, he wanted to so desperately drown them out. 

He eventually drifted off to sleep, allowing his dreams to take him away as he imagined Pac’s loving smile and handsome face. He hoped the next day would be better, he hoped that Pac would heal and wake up like his happy cheerful self. But that was something for tomorrow Fit to worry about.

Chapter Text

It had been around a week since the incident with Cellbit and Pac found himself constantly bumping into Fit, more than usual. He took it as a coincidence the first few times he had met Fit in the halls or the cell quarters, and even sometimes the prison’s library where the inmates were allowed to indulge in some good old reading. But it started to occur to him that he would see Fit nearly anytime he would leave the main group or wasn’t surrounded by big clumps of people.

He didn’t mind talking to Fit, in fact he didn’t even know why he was complaining. When speaking to Mike about it Pac described the gesture as endearing. The fact that Fit cared enough to make sure he was alright and safe warmed his heart in a way that nobody else managed to do. It came to a point where Pac would be disappointed if he hadn’t bumped into his little crush. It felt like Fit was on his mind 24/7, he couldn’t stop thinking about him. He had never felt this way towards anyone, at least not since a robbery of Tazercraft’s quite a few years back, but that was just history now. Considering the fact that Pac had only known Fit for a couple of weeks now, he felt like he wasn’t able to survive without speaking to him everyday, even just a simple hello would be enough to brighten up his day or improve his mood.

Mike had suggested that Fit was just probably paranoid after everything that had happened in the last couple of days and to not worry about it much. He also mentioned how if Pac ever felt uncomfortable to always come back to him so that he could deal with it. But the thought of Fit ever making Pac feel uneasy made Pac laugh out loud, causing Mike to look back at his other half in confusion before finally giggling along with him once remembering the way Pac fondly spoke about his feelings for the other.

Which is why Pac now found himself walking into the library just to find Fit scanning the shelves for some books. ‘Oi Fit!’ He called, making his way over to the taller individual who had a couple of books already clutched tightly against his chest with one of his arms. 

‘Oh bom dia Pac!’ Fit greeted, an endearing smile full of nothing but love spreading onto his face as he turned to look at the all too familiar voice beside him. Pac had noticed that Fit had picked up some portuguese that he only ever really used when speaking to him. He gave the other a small wave and a soft gentle smile back. He then turned his attention to the selection of books Fit had in his grasp. All of them seemed to be about fitness and dieting, but there were a few hidden away at the back of the pile which he couldn’t quite make out.

‘What books have you picked out?’ He pondered, looking up to meet Fit’s deep brown eyes. He really couldn’t describe how much love he had for the man in front of him. The other’s gorgeous face grew a soft pink as he swallowed ruffly.

Fit began to fiddle with his jumpsuit with his free hand as he stumbled on his words. ‘I uh. they’re mostly fitness based.’ He began, never looking Pac directly in the eye, ‘But there’s two that I thought looked interesting that are about um like romance.’ He spoke, stuttering on the last few words. There were so many thoughts and emotions left unspoken as the two stood in silence for a moment.

‘Oh I see. I might take a read of one if you don’t mind? I love romance stories!’ Pac beamed, watching as the other became more fidgety at the suggestion.

‘Um sure. Although they aren’t stories Pac. They’re more like guides, I’m not quite sure what category they would go in.’ Fit gulped. His face was now a bright shade of red, just like the colour of a fresh rose you would find in the courtyards.

‘That’s fine! I love guides and documentary type books!’ Pac was definitely not fine. His mind was running wild with different reasons as to why Fit would be reading books about love, he wanted his hands on one of them just to see what they were about. What exactly was Fit looking into and why did he need a guide about romance? 

He remembered what Phil had said to him and Mike on the first day, how Fit struggled with loving people and accepting his emotions and feelings. Because of his dark and gruesome background he was always taught that people were either predators or prey. You couldn’t trust anybody whether your life depended on it or not. Pac didn’t know what Fit had gone through in the Wastelands, but he had heard some horrific stories of things that had happened to others and guessed that the same would've happened to Fit too. His heart ached at the thought, imaging all of the trauma that the other would’ve had to indulge. The thought alone killed him inside, Fit didn’t deserve that. But Pac understood why Fit might’ve needed a bit of help and guidance into new territories such as love.

Fit decided to lead Pac over to one of the sofas, sitting himself down and spreading the books out onto the little coffee table in front of him. Pac sat beside him, watching as the taller’s breath hitched once he laid out the two books that had piqued Pac’s interest. The titles read, ‘How to Come to Terms with Love’ and, ‘Romance for Idiots’. It had confused Pac even more. Who would Fit need these books for? 

Pac had guessed that his confusion was quite visible as Fit frantically began trying to explain himself, ‘I chose them because they just seemed fun to read. No other reason.’ He spoke hurriedly as if he was throwing up his words, wafting his hands around in the air as he explained. Pac giggled at the sudden shift in Fit’s tone and demeanour. Such a powerful, strong person all of a sudden becoming a nervous wreck when the subject of love came about seemed so amusing to him.

“Fit it’s fine! Really. I completely understand.’ Pac smiled. He hesitated for a moment before slowly resting a hand on Fit’s thigh to grab his full attention and to comfort him. Fit stopped almost instantly at the gesture, his face a brighter red than before as he turned to meet Pac’s loving eyes, drowning in their deep blue waters. His lips were agaped as he looked back at Pac with so much care and affection.

Pac smiled gently, eventually lifting his hand from Fit’s leg. Fit longed for the feeling once it was gone, he felt like he had taken it for granted. Pac watched as the other turned away from him to recompose himself, coughing into his hand briefly and then finally building up the courage to say something.

‘I um- I better get going.’ He said, lifting himself off of the couch and scooping up all of the books he had laid on the table. All except one. ‘You can read that one if you want, I have to uh get back to Phil. I promised I’d give him one of these fitness books.’ He walked away from the seating area, waving briefly at Pac before leaving the room in a hurry.

Pac was left sat on his own in the empty library, his only company being his thoughts. Had he messed up? Why had Fit left in such a hurry? He felt as if he shouldn’t have moved so quickly. God he was so stupid, what had gotten over him?

His mind was running wild as he looked down at the coffee table to see the book that Fit had left for him. The cover was a deep red wine, a variety of different flowers scattered all over the front of the book and a title plastered in the centre in some sort of white italic font reading, ‘How to Come to Terms with Love.’

He gently ran his cold fingers over the spine of the book, feeling the texture of the printed letters as he took a deep breath in then out. If he was going to stay in the library for just a little bit longer, why not spend his free time looking into the guide sitting in front of him. Maybe he could learn something about Fit through reading it.

Fit speed walked through the doors leading to the cells, his heart fluttering around the walls of his ribs as he was reminded of the gesture. His face must’ve been a bright ruby as Phil approached the veteran, a wide cheeky smile plastered over his lips.

‘How was the library?’ He joked, cackling to himself as he patted a hand on Fit’s shoulder, briefly bringing him in for a manly side hug. ‘I was wondering why you took so long but I think I’ve figured out why.’ He continued to laugh to himself while prodding a sweaty finger against the inmate’s cheek.

Fit scoffed, rolling his eyes as he slapped Phil’s hand away, only causing the other to giggle even more. ‘God you’re nearly as childish as Tubbo.’ Fit snarled, moving away from Phil’s grasp and folding his arms over his chest, an annoyed look smeared all over his face. ‘Can a man have any privacy anymore?’ He exaggerated, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat.

Phil shook his head in disagreement as he stuck his hands into his jumpsuit pockets. ‘You didn’t deny it!’

‘Shut the fuck up you dick.’ Fit joked, shoving the other in defence and then walking away from the conversation to avoid any more snarky comments or questions, leaving Phil a confused and giggly mess.

If it couldn’t make the situation any more worse, Fit somehow managed to bump into Tubbo and Foolish, a duo that he was currently not in the mood for. Their chaotic energy radiated around them as they walked over to him. 

Tubbo almost instantly noticed the tint of pink lingering on Fit’s face and began rolling his eyes dramatically. ‘My god keep your gay relationship out of my sight.’ He huffed, giggling to himself as he nudged Foolish’s arm to catch his attention. Foolish turned to face Fit and tried his best to contain his amusement but failed miserably.

‘Fit just tell him you love him, this is painful to watch.’ Foolish half joked, dragging his eyes down to the handful of books in Fit’s grasp and noticing the romance guide. ‘God you really are hopeless aren’t you.’ He said whilst pulling the book in question out from Fit’s arms, nearly causing the veteran to drop them all on the floor.

‘Bit rude.’ Fit snarled. He recompossed himself, preparing for another snarky comment from the two as they read the title of the novel. He felt embarrassed that he even had to get a book to understand his emotions. He didn’t know what the funny feeling in his stomach was whenever Pac did anything nice towards him or when he simply put his hand on him. The blue eyed man’s touch would send sparks through his body, causing him to become a flustered mess and the only way he knew how to combat those emotions was to leave, which wasn’t the best solution but it worked nonetheless.

‘Oh Fit.’ Tubbo sympathised. For the first time ever he actually seemed to generally care. His giggles faded out as he kept reading the title over and over again until it was imprinted into his brain. ‘If you needed help understanding your emotions you could’ve just said!’ Tubbo looked up to Fit’s watery eyes, not mentioning the tears welling up in the corners but instead allowing Fit to place the remainder of the books on the table beside them and then bringing him in for a tight hug. Foolish also joined the huddle, ‘We care man, even if we joke around you can still speak to us whenever,’ he whispered against Fit’s ear, a sense of care and concern lingering in his tone as the duo pulled away from Fit’s grasp.

‘Sorry, I don’t usually like acknowledging my feelings but this emotion seemed pretty urgent.’ Fit laughed nervously, running a hand along the back of his neck.

‘So you do have a crush on Pac?’ Tubbo joked once more, allowing Fit to hit him in retaliation.

‘You what?’ Another voice called from the cell beside them. Fit turned to face the pink haired man, his face turning a sheepish red as Mike stared him down, a protective look was spread across his face.

‘Ooooo the girls are fighting!’ Tubbo yelled, jumping up and down whilst waving his hands in the air to catch the other inmates’ attention. It surprisingly worked as people began to gather round the two. Phil, Tubbo, Foolish, Missa, Charlie and Mariana all stood together on one side of the circle, arguably with the best view. Roier, Cellbit, Quackity, Luzu and Spreen stood opposite Phil’s group, already seeming eager as they anticipated what they thought was a fist fight. Lastly, Baghera, Etoiles, Antoine and Pierre stood in a huddle near the outskirts of the circle, mingerling amongst themselves and not really paying attention except for Etoiles who was chanting Fit’s name and going up to Phil to chant together.

‘Mike I am not arguing with you.’ Fit finally spoke, folding his arms over his chest as he stared the other inmate down. He wanted to stay on the man’s good side and this definitely wasn’t the way to do it. He didn’t want to admit that he may have a ‘small’ crush on Pac to Mike and basically everyone else in the prison but he also didn’t want to say no and have Mike tell Pac that he wasn’t interested.

Mike lifted his head slightly to seem like the bigger person, dropping his arms to his side as he analysed the veteran in front of him. He was scared. He had been told stories of what Fit was capable of and after the incident with Cellbit, he had seen it with his very eyes. In reality, he didn’t want to fight Fit at all, in fact he thought that Pac would scold him for the rest of his life if he did so. But he was protective of Pac, he didn’t want Fit to hurt him. He also didn't want to go down without a verbal fight, there was no harm in a little banter.

‘You didn’t answer the question.’ Mike bluntly replied, his eyes were filled with nothing but anger.

‘You know damn well I’m not going to answer that in front of everybody,’ Fit protested, he was getting angrier by the second, his temper building as Mike began to get on his nerves, almost like the other was tiptoeing along the edge of an invisible border. ‘Do you think I’m an idiot?’

‘You could be.’ Mike shrugged, a jokey tone shining through his voice as he laughed to himself. He loved the thrill of messing with people, the enjoyment of watching them get more annoyed by the second from his snarky comments.

Fit gritted his teeth, ‘Why do you even care?’ His brows began to furrow.

‘Why wouldn’t I? Me and Pac have been friends since birth, it’d be a bit shitty of me to not care about who he was dating.’ He watched as Fit began to tap his foot against the floor impatiently, the crowd filling with ‘ooo la las’ as the word dating was mentioned.

‘Wait are they actually dating?’ Etoiles whispered to Phil before being wacked around the head by the blonde, a raspy laugh leaving his mouth at the question whilst he shook his head.

‘Plus I should be worried if that said person was a fucking 2b2t veteran.’ Mike’s jokey ego dropped at the mention of 2b2t. The memories of Pac’s past with those types of people flashing before his very eyes, an image of the man’s arm bleeding out rapidly as he screamed in agony. The culprit just stood there laughing maniacally whilst watching Pac slowly die on the floor of his prison cell. Luckily Mike had made it just in time and had the wound stitched up and the inmate moved up to a different cell division, but it was the closest to death that Pac had ever been and he sometimes saw the effects that it had caused. Some days the trauma would be horrible, he’d have to watch in silence as Pac hyperventilated on the floor from all the memories of that horrifying night suddenly hitting him like a truck. It wasn’t a pretty sight and he didn’t want it happening again.

‘What the fuck is that supposed to mean?’ Fit spat out, the mention of his past annoyed him to the fullest. He began clenching his fists as he gritted his teeth. ‘How fucking dare you to come walking in here like you own the place. What the fuck is wrong with you?’

‘I’m not having this conversation with you, speak to Pac if you really want to know.’ Mike rolled his eyes and began to turn away from the conversation, most of the crowd had already gone back to whatever they were doing once realising that it wasn’t a fist fight anyway.

‘Fine, maybe I fucking will.’ Fit practically spat his feelings out into his words as he watched Mike walk away back to his cell as if nothing ever happened. The nerve that man had to bring up the fact that Fit was from 2b2t and that it should be something to worry about as if he could fix his past, then just leave like he didn’t utter a single word made Fit so fucking angry. He felt like punching something, particularly a specific someone. But he had to keep his composure even though it was so hard for him to stay calm. 

Instead of doing something he’d regret, he decided to head to the gym to let his anger out on some of the boxing bags, leaving the library books on the table and making his way through the corridors and into the fitness centre, swinging the big double doors of the room open with a sense of aggression as they clashed against the dull brick walls with a deafening bang.

It startled the man standing in the room, Pac, who was carrying a weight in his hand nearly dropping it on the floor. His body jumped at the noise, his eyes shooting open as his head spun towards the door to see what the sound was.

His vision landed on Fit, who was clenching his fists tightly, Pac could practically see the steam coming from his ears as his anger radiated throughout the room. ‘Are you alright?’ Pac cautiously asked, placing the weight back on the rack and approaching him slowly, not knowing what kind of state he was in.

‘Sort your fucking friend out.’ Fit snarled, turning to face away from Pac and walking over towards the punching bags that hung limply from the ceiling. He threw the first punch, hitting straight in the centre of the bag with such force that it swung side to side in retaliation. He threw another, then another. His rage went through his fists and into the boxing bag in front of him.

‘What happened?’ Pac questioned, leaning against the wall beside Fit, watching as the other weared himself out as he kept throwing more and more punches, sweat dripping down his face and fingers as they clenched firmly. Pac’s heart hurt at the sight, he so badly wanted to help the taller calm down and talk it out. But right now that didn't seem like an option, as Fit simply ignored the question, too focused on the hits he was throwing.

Pac closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath he didn’t know he was holding as he recomposed himself, trying to not let his feelings get the better of him as he didn’t want to cry today. He was hoping today would be better. After the Cellbit incident he hadn’t been able to get his mind off of it. He was so incredibly scared of getting caught up with him again that he found himself lurking in busy, bustling areas where he wouldn’t be seen. His heart would claw out of his throat when he would catch a glimpse of the cannibal, tears would well up in his eyes. 

But today, he wanted it to be different, he wanted to be confident and strong, he wanted to be happy for once in this prison. Yet seeing Fit like this hurt him so much, he didn’t have the words to describe how much pain he felt when Fit was upset or angry, especially when the person that had caused it was his own partner in crime. 

‘Fit please let me help.’ Pac practically begged, if he wasn’t emotionally strong enough he would be on his knees right now, praying for Fit to open up for once and describe how he was feeling. He could feel the emotions that the veteran had locked away for so long pour out of him as he threw every punch, his brows furrowing as he hit with such precision.

Fit’s eyes turned to look at the other, his heart ached as he witnessed the pained expression on the man’s face. ‘Mike was just being an asshole, it’s fine really.’ Fit huffed, his breath hasty as his energy began to deplete. ‘I just need to get my anger out, I didn’t want to end up hurting someone, that’s not who I am anymore.’ He continued, he could feel the salty water well up in the corners of his eyes but chose to ignore it.

Pac walked back over to the weights rack but instead of picking up a weight he took off his orange jumpsuit jacket, leaving him in a white vest that clung tightly to his body. He looked back towards Fit who was already staring back at him with such adoration. ‘You could always fight with me instead?’ Pac suggested nervously, running a trembling hand through his hair. ‘I mean you don’t have to of course! I just thought I needed the practice and it seemed like the best time to do it.’

Fit stopped in his punches, briefly wiping the sweat off of his forehead as it dripped down his now rosy red cheeks. ‘Yeah, I- I don’t see why not.’ Fit stuttered as he watched the other beam a wide smile back at him in excitement.

‘Really?’ Pac was practically jumping up and down at the idea. His eyes glimmered with eagerness as he took a hair tie from his wrist and began scrunching his hair up into a small ponytail to get it out of the way.

The hairstyle caught Fit’s attention, his eyes transfixed on the look. The Brazilian looked so incredibly handsome, his sharp jawline more visible than ever and the few stray strands of his soft black hair framed his gorgeous face perfectly. And he couldn’t forget the pretty smile spread across his face.

‘Of course! We can have a sparring match if you want.’ He smiled back at the other, giggling softly as Pac prepared himself for the battle, his legs positioned in a ready stance as he held his fists up in front of his face.

‘Bring it on big boy!’ Pac joked whilst swaying side to side eagerly, lowering his voice to match Fit’s deep booming tone. It caught the veteran off guard as his eyes shot open at the nickname, his cheeks immediately fading into a bright crimson. 

Fit also positioned himself the same as Pac, counting down from three. The second he hit one Pac threw the first hit, successfully landing on Fit’s lower abdomen winding him slightly. It was impressive but nothing that Fit wasn’t used to as he recovered quickly.

Pac looked shocked at the sudden recovery from the punch, being too distracted to notice the hit that was approaching his upper arm. The pain from the throw spread throughout Pac’s body as he squinted his eyes and hissed. Yet he ignored it and carried on fighting, kicking his leg out towards Fit’s calve. The other successfully blocked it, proceeding to kick Pac’s side causing him to stumble on his feet from the sudden strike.

He had to catch his breath as it felt like he couldn’t breath, gasping for any sort of oxygen as he held his side tightly with a shaky hand. Fit stopped for a moment, worry spreading across his face as he carefully approached Pac. ‘Are you alright?’ Fit asked, panic lingering in his voice.

Pac caught Fit off guard as he all of a sudden swung his fist out and hit the veteran’s arm. Fit narrowed his eyes as his muscle pulsated from the pain that was now tingling throughout his limb. ‘You sly fox.’ Fit hissed, swinging his leg back out to hit the same spot as before, this time it wasn’t as successful as Pac was prepared for it, blocking it with his hands.

Pac then proceeded to swing his foot out towards Fit’s legs to knock his balance, successfully causing him to wobble and fall to the floor. He grunted as his body fell, twinging at the pain. The Brazilian then sat on top of Fit’s legs and held his arms out to the side to stop him from moving. He laughed to himself once realising that he’d won.

It’s when he looked down at Fit that he realised what position they were in. The American’s face said it all, his cheeks red as ever and his mouth agape as he looked back up at Pac, nerves running through his body. Pac immediately moved himself off of Fit, running a hand across the back of his neck as he looked anywhere but the other’s eyes.

Fit sat himself up to match Pac, looking over to see Pac’s expression and laughing softly at the wobbly mess he’d become. ‘Sorry I- I didn’t mean to do that.’ Pac stuttered, his breath coming out shaky.

‘It’s alright, it was just a bit of a surprise.’ Fit softly spoke, resting a hand gently onto Pac’s shoulder in comfort. It sort of worked as the other turned to face him, his face relaxing a little at the gesture as he subtly leaned into Fit’s hand. The feeling of his calloused skin on his bare shoulder sent so many feelings throughout his body. The American looked back at him with so many emotions that Pac just couldn’t decipher.

Fit was the first to move, standing up and stretching, wincing slightly at the pain that still lingered in him. ‘We should probably see how Mike’s doing.’ Fit suggested, lending a hand out towards Pac to help him up a little. Pac took it without any hesitation, the feeling of the other’s ragged skin against his own was so loving. The Brazilian wished he could hold Fit’s hand all the time.

Once Pac was standing he grabbed his jacket and tied it around his waist. Fit tried his best not to stare as he continued speaking, ‘I riled him up quite a lot, I’m just hoping he’s not pissed at me.’

Pac walked towards the door holding it open for Fit as they both then proceeded to walk down the corridor. ‘He’s never properly pissed at people I’m close with. Even if he is, I’ll sort it out.’ Pac smiled, running his hands on his trousers to get rid of the sweat that was welling up.

The two eventually arrived at the cell quarters, there weren’t many people there as dinner had begun but there was still a specific someone that was sitting on his own at one of the tables in the centre of the room. Mike’s pink hair was a mess as he slumped in his chair, Pac could see droplets of tears running down his cheeks as he watched the other try his best to hide it once he looked up towards the two.

‘Oi, o que há de errado?’ Pac asked, his heart hurting as he sat beside the other, running a hand gently up and down Mike’s back in comfort. Mike rested his head in his hands as he let out a shivery breath.

‘Só fiquei com um pouco de raiva, só preciso me acalmar.’ His voice was wobbly as he spoke, an upsetting tone lingering that the other two couldn’t quite put their fingers on.

Fit sat on the other side of Mike, even though he didn’t know what was being said he still brought his arms out as if asking for a hug in which Mike took it, his shaky arms wrapping round the veteran’s body as he squeezed him tightly. ‘Look man. I’m sorry for earlier, we were just both pissed off and it was a bad time to bump into each other.’ Fit apologised in an almost whisper as he indicated for Pac to join the hug.

Pac shuffled closer to Mike as he hugged him from behind. The three of them just sat there peacefully for a couple of moments as they embraced each other in silence. It was relaxing, Pac hadn’t felt this happy in a while, he felt truly loved, he felt like he had found his people.

Fit closed his eyes as his body relaxed into the hug, his arms going limp as they wrapped around the two. He felt so peaceful in this moment, the only thing keeping him from drifting off into a soft sleep was the subtle movements of the others. His heart beat in his chest as he felt a familiar hand slowly run over his, their fingers intertwining. Pac didn’t mention the gesture, he chose to ignore it as he rested his head against Mike’s shoulder.

The day had been rough and this was all that the three needed in that moment. 

They needed one another. No matter what happened beyond this point they were going to stick together like glue. Nobody could pull them apart even if they tried.

Chapter Text

It was a rough start to the day for Pac. Being abruptly awoken at 6 am wasn't his desired choice but having an officer blaring their bright torch in your eyes didn’t particularly help with sleep. To be honest, the sun shining through the one barred window in his cell onto his face wasn’t helping much either and had already woken him up.

He groaned, covering his squinted eyes with his bed sheets as he mumbled for five more minutes under his breath, his voice rather raspy. The officer, Bagi, rolled her eyes and scoffed impatiently, turning the torch off and walking to the end of the bed. All Pac knew was the torch was gone and the officer had given up, he could finally sleep in peace. He snuggled up into the covers, curling his legs up into his chest as he relaxed a bit more. He sighed contentedly as he got himself comfy, slowly drifting back off.

Bagi grabbed the covers and swung them off of the bed and onto the ground, ‘Get up, I’m not going to ask you again.’ She stated, her voice rather demanding as she placed her hands on her hips.

“Wha- Que?’ Pac retorted, the sudden disappearance of his warmth shocking his body, the cold air of the prison hitting him hard as he shuddered in his bed. His arms frantically wafted around him in search of the sheets, his head lifting and eyes slowly opening and trying to adjust to the sudden shift in lighting. His expression drifted into irritation, his eyes narrowing as he death stared the officer stood at the end of his bed, a smug sneer plastered on her lips.

Out of spite, he continued to ignore her instructions, coping with the bitterness of the breeze coming through his cell bars as he layed back down, eyes closed shut.

He heard an audible sigh from Bagi as her boots clattered against the floor. He could feel the officer’s presence as she stood in front of him. She was 100% about to lose her shit. 

‘Get the fuck up you asshole!’ She yelled in Pac’s ear, causing the man to jump in his skin, eyes shooting open from shock. 

‘What the fuck man?’ He protested, lifting his arms up in annoyance. The woman laughed to herself at the sight.

‘Do you really want me to get back up for this shit?’ She stated, dead panning at the guy in front of her. She was so done with this man’s shit. Who even assigned her this annoying ass prisoner in the first place?

Pac laughed at the suggestion, staying laid as he nodded. He loved riling Bagi up, it was like free entertainment. Considering entertainment was rare in this shit hole he didn’t take it for granted.

‘Sure, I’m in the mood to say hi.’ He giggled, watching as the woman slowly dragged a hand down her face, rage lacing every aspect of her expression as she took her walkie talkie from her belt. She was way too tired for this.

Reluctantly, she clicked the button and began speaking, ‘Can I get some back up in cell 103, Pac is not getting up for his morning chores.’ She stared at Pac who was beaming a smile back at her.

‘Yes, an officer will be with you in a second.’ A voice spoke back a moment later, Bagi said her farewells and placed the device back into her belt huffing as she did so.

‘You happy now?’ She questioned, sarcasm shining through her tone as she impatiently anticipated the other officer’s arrival. She watched as Pac got himself comfy on his back, letting out an exaggerated sigh of relief as he relaxed once more, trying his best to taunt the officer. 

After a couple of minutes, a familiar cop stepped into the room, Mouse. She didn’t look very happy to be in here for the fourth time this week but here she was, standing by Bagi’s side as she looked over at Pac with a tired gaze.

‘Come on man, you do this every time you have chores.’ Mouse began, taking a hold of Pac’s wrists and dragging him out. Pac was feisty and struggled in her tight grasp, trying his hardest to slip through her fingers but nothing seemed to work as he was stood on his feet. Her and Bagi struggled to bring his wrists behind his back with the amount of wiggling and yelling that Pac was doing but they finally cuffed him, both of them on either side of him holding each of his forearms as they dragged him towards his chores.

Today was dish washing duty, the worst fucking chore you could get, especially on a Wednesday morning. Pac was not in the mood, he rarely was. He was at least hoping for someone interesting as you normally get someone doing it with you, usually he gets people that he doesn’t talk to or are shoved up their own arses like Cellbit, although they stopped pairing them after the incident. On good days he sometimes gets Mike or Phil, maybe even Tubbo with a small chance but he never ever gets the one person he actually wants. Fit.

After a few shouts down the corridor and struggling from Pac as he dragged his shoes along the floor, he finally made it to the kitchen, his cuffs unlocking and then being aggressively shoved into the room by a very forceful hand, assumingly Bagi. The door was then locked promptly afterwards and Pac was left facing the dull door in front of him.

‘You pieces of shit!’ He practically spat, his brows narrowed and his chest heaving as he banged against the door with his fists. He really hoped they fucking heard him.

He sighed, his hands giving up and lowering to his sides as he turned to face his doom which was three mountains of plates and dishes and a pile of cutlery. He groaned, grumbling Portuguese swears under his breath as he made his way over to the sink where everything was set out for him. 

‘You alright?’ A familiar voice asked cautiously, almost scared to question him.

Pac’s eyes wandered away from his task and glanced over to his side, he was shocked to see the bald man next to him. And fuck was he handsome today, and that definitely had nothing to do with the fact he was in his white tank top instead of his orange jumpsuit jacket. His hands were soaked, his white tank becoming see through in several places where water had splashed on him. His eyes were they’re regular hazel, his cheeks a faint pink and his arms were muscular than Pac had expected.

Pac stood there, mouth agape as he just stared. His face was heating up, you could probably fry an egg on his cheeks from how hot they were. Although poor Fit was so clueless, his face was laced with confusion and worry as he dried his hands on a towel next to him.

‘Pac?’

Pac snapped back to reality, realising he was just staring at the other for a good minute or two. He hid his face with his jumpsuit in embarrassment. What the fuck was that? God he was so stupid, that was so stupid. Fit must think that he is a hopeless idiot, some sort of loser who doesn’t know how to be normal. 

‘H- Hey Fit!’ He managed to blurt out, his hand reaching for the back of his neck as he rubbed his skin awkwardly. 

‘You alright? You kind of just blanked out there.’ Fit spoke, genuine concern peeking through his deep tone as he tried to analyse Pac’s expression which only confused him more. Pac was bright red, his hands shaky and his voice wobbly. 

‘Yeah, yeah I’m g- great!’ Pac cursed himself for stuttering and fumbling so hard in front of his little prison crush. He hated to admit it but he definitely had some sort of feelings for Fit. It was odd, he hadn’t really felt this way for someone in a while and he had kind of forgotten how it felt, but it was nice to finally have someone caring about him other than Mike.

Fit nodded slowly in acknowledgement, not entirely convinced but not pressing further, ‘Anyway, it’s nice to have you helping out today instead of Tubbo. He’s great but man can he get annoying with the questions.’ He laughed. And god that laugh. It could send Pac into a cardiac arrest if the handsome man in front of him wasn’t careful. Fit’s lips tugged into a big smile causing his eyes to crease.

Pac laughed with him for a moment before replying, ‘I normally get Cell or Phil, not very fun.’ 

‘I can tell by the way you entered,’ Fit giggled softly, stating back to Pac’s little tantrum just a moment ago. God if Pac knew Fit was in here he wouldn’t have even dared to do that, he probably looked so stupid.

‘Oh I- uh. I thought I had Cellbit as m- my helping hand and was avoiding going.’ Pac inhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair as he tried to manage a slight smile, hoping Fit couldn’t see right through it.

Unfortunately, it seemed like the Veteran did as his face dropped slightly, his anger visible when just the name of the man was mentioned. ‘Are you doing alright after the-’  He paused for a second, ‘Y’know. I don’t think I ever checked up on you afterwards.’ 

Pac shuddered remembering the night of the incident. He couldn’t sleep, lying restless and wide awake in his bed, Mike staying up beside him, allowing Pac to cuddle up into him and holding his hand tightly, squeezing it every so often. He felt like the walls were caving in, having hallucinations of the cannibal when he tried to shut his eyes. It was horrible, and Pac tried his best to avoid Cellbit afterwards.

Pac took a moment to answer, reminiscing the whole ordeal as he tried to come up with the best possible response to not make the other too worried. ‘I struggled a lot after b- but I’m better now!’ Pac assured, even though he was sure Fit knew that he was lying through his teeth.

‘Are you sure? I’m always here if you need to let things out.’ Fit assured, resuming to washing a plate in the soapy sink, grabbing the sponge underneath the water and scrubbing the grime and dirt from the surface, then soaking the plate in fresh water from the tap and placing it on the side to dry. ‘I- I care about you Pac.’ He continued, ‘I just want you to know that.’

Pac’s heart felt like it was going to explode. Fit, the 2b2t veteran, the asshole, actually cared about him? Phil had told him that it was lucky for the man to even speak to you yet alone care about you. Pac felt as if he didn’t deserve all of this praise, like he had done too much wrong in his life to be able to earn this. He looked down at his shoes, scruffing them along the floor as he tried to avoid eye contact with the taller, knowing full well that he’d break if he did.

‘Thank you, that means a lot,’ He paused for a moment, ‘f- from you y’know?’ Pac finally managed to reply, his body was on fire, his heart was burning in his ribs as he tried not to freak out like a little kid. He chose to begin drying the dishes that Fit had slowly begun piling up on the side of the sink. Proceeding to grab a towel from the hook it was hanging from.

Fit smiled softly, his eyes gleaming with something that Pac couldn’t quite put his finger on. He so desperately wanted to understand how Fit was feeling, what Fit thought about him. But he couldn’t and that broke him a little inside.

‘No problem Pac. If people like Cellbit ever bother you or threaten you, I’m right around the corner.’ He imputed, his face crinkling slightly at the thought, but he quickly returned to the little smile tugging at his lips, scrubbing the dishes quickly and handing them to Pac for him to dry. They surprisingly worked really well as a team and a sweet silence fell between the two for a few minutes as they simply did their chores.

Pac didn’t know how he was supposed to feel, his mind felt like it was trying to run away from him. His heart wanted to love every bit of Fit, he wanted to hug Fit and never let go. But his brain knew that the older wasn’t good for him, that he would most likely fall back into his criminal antics. He would be in and out of prison just to see Fit since he was in for life and Pac was only here for a month and half more. But he also liked knowing that Cell wasn’t that much of a threat anymore, that Fit was always there to sort him out for him, and that set a flame in his chest for some reason, the thought alone making his cheeks redden.

Fit opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out, he looked pissed to simply put it. He didn’t look like his caring self from a minute ago and that worried Pac. ‘If he ever lays a finger on you I will fuck him up.’ He spat, his eyes narrowing as he scrubbed the plate in his hand for a moment too long, his hand tightening its grasp on the sponge, soap dripping down his arm as it squished against his palm. 

Pac didn’t know what to say, if his cheeks weren’t red before they definitely were now. So he didn’t say anything, looking back down to the bowl in his hand as he dried it and placed it with the rest. 

Fit looked over to the other, his eyes felt like they were burning holes through Pac, nothing but anger in them. ‘You hear me?’ He continued, stopping what he was doing.

Pac swallowed ruffly, not knowing what to say back. ‘Of course.’ He simply put.

‘Good.’ And it was like a flip switched in Fit as he returned back to washing the plate in his hand normally, his face dropping back into its handsome smile. It confused Pac to no end, but he just followed along with it, returning to drying the dishes once again and falling back into the silence they were previously in.

Bagi entered the kitchen, baton tightly held in her hand. she looked fucked up, her hair was all over the place. Her face looked pissed and she didn’t look like she wanted to talk to the two in front of her. ‘Your chores are over, go with the rest outside.’ Her voice was dead, her tone so emotionless as she turned to leave the room.

But Pac stopped her before she could, ‘Wait!’ She turned back around, clearly not in the mood with whatever the man had to say. ‘What’s happened?’ Of course curiosity got the better of Pac, it always did. He always felt like he had to know what was going on.

Bagi paused for a minute, she knew if she didn’t respond Pac would just pester her for the rest of the time he was serving. ‘An inmate attacked an officer in the cafeteria whilst doing chores.’

Fit stopped what he was doing, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he leant against the counter, ‘Who?’ He was generally so lost, his tone giving off how baffled he was, like an inmate attacking a police officer wasn’t common at all.

‘Tubbo.’

As Fit and Pac rushed to the cafeteria, the faint screams of agony got louder and louder, the screams echoed throughout the prison. It scared the two, their hearts beating irregularly as they prepared themselves for the worst.

The duo entered the room, a distressed looking Tubbo was on the floor, two officers battling him to the ground as he screamed in pain, his face streaming with tears as he screamed at the top of his lungs. The sight reminded Pac of his and Mike’s court day, the horrifying sight of Mike getting dragged into a cop car, screaming the same words Tubbo was now.

The room was chaotic, blood practically all over the floor, a massive thick line of it leading to Tubbo from where he had been dragged off of the officer. Considering the room was full of tables it was difficult to make out what was going on but Pac kind of understood what had happened.

“What the fuck?’ Fit spoke, rushing to the situation only to be shoved out of the way by a cop trying to sort things out. ‘Don’t fucking touch me!’ He yelled back, spitting on the officer in the process.

Pac looked over to the side of the room, eyes landing on a cop slumped against the wall, blood pouring down their face as they were presumably knocked out or maybe even dead. This was nothing Pac hadn’t seen before, I mean he had dealt with fighting cops and seeing others fight cops in the past, but he didn’t know why this time was different, it felt so odd. Like something was extremely off.

Eventually, the two police officers managed to get Tubbo onto his feet, wrists held behind his back. His face was wet with salty water, bruises covering his body and his fists bloody. His left eye was black and his mouth was bleeding. He looked to be in so much pain, assuming that he had been hit with a baton.

Fit followed not shortly after, screaming whatever he could at them, his heart burning in his chest, not knowing how to help his close friend. Pac just stood there in shock, trying to figure out what was off, what was different. This wasn’t like Tubbo. Tubbo would never beat up an officer unless it was dire, like his life depended on it. Maybe his life did depend on it, by the way he looked he didn’t look like he was healthy. He looked to be dying, but that could just be Pac pulling at strings.

He looked over to the officer once more, really taking in the damage to them. When he noticed a pocket knife in the man’s hand. Bloody with a colour that was different to the one dripping from his mouth. 

Pac felt tears falling down his face in fear, like he had discovered something life threatening. He rushed to follow the others, his body heaving as he screamed out Tubbo’s name in agony. He didn’t know what part of the brunette had been harmed, whether it was deadly or not. He didn’t want Tubbo to die, god no. 

‘HE HAD A POCKET KNIFE!’ Pac screamed down the long corridor as he caught a glimpse of the group.

Fit swung his head around, he looked furious, the angriest Pac had ever seen him. His eyes were wide open, teeth gritting together and brows furrowed. He looked at Pac, almost as if he was begging for him to continue.

‘HE HAD A KNIFE COVERED IN TUBBO’S BLOOD!’ Pac continued to yell at the top of his lungs, his heart burning from running so far and so fast, his eyes blurry and his view fuzzy. He could hear the painful cries of Tubbo as he nodded frantically, beginning to hold the side of his lower stomach, wobbling side to side as if he was struggling to keep his balance.

It clicked in Pac’s brain almost instantly once he spotted it. This was more urgent than he had hoped. Tubbo was slowly dying of blood loss, having being stabbed in the lower abdomen. Only then did Pac notice the blood staining his jumpsuit jacket, dripping down his fingers as he begged for his life.

The cops did nothing but ignore the claims and cries, dragging Tubbo’s almost lifeless body to solitary confinement for punishment. Pac could tell Fit’s anger was taking over him, like when he had found Pac on the floor of the cell quarters bleeding from his face after Cellbit attacked him. His fists were clenched tightly.

And just as Pac had guessed, Fit swung at the officer on Tubbos left from behind, causing the man to fall and hit his head hard on the concrete beneath him. His head began to bleed out, knocked out clean. 

Nobody seemed to bat an eye as the last officer quickly tried to drag Tubbo along. Fit laughed maniacally as the thrill began to settle in, his hunger for violence rising as he swung at the second cop, causing the same event as the previous. Fit licked his lips, admiring the blood on his knuckles.

They were all presumably dead on the floor, bleeding out. Their heaving chests coming to a complete stop. Pac was shocked, his face looked terrified but he knew Fit wouldn’t harm him, he just wanted Tubbo to live.

The Veteran jumped out of his adrenaline state and ran for Tubbo before he hit the floor as well. ‘Hey, hey, Tubbo, stay with me please.’ Fit begged as he held the boy in his arms, the two knelt on the floor.

Pac not shortly after joined them, crying his poor heart out as he watched the brunette slowly die in front of him. This can’t be how it ends for him. No, it’s not right. There must be a way. There must be.

And almost as if his wishes came true, Phil, Mike and Etoiles burst through one of the doors, a big bag filled with medication and such in Phil’s grasp. Fit looked up at Phil, a pleading expression plastered on his face as he tried not to cry, but Pac could see the glassiness of his eyes, the pain lingering behind his facade.

‘It’s alright, I’ve got this Fit.’ Phil promised, taking Tubbo from his arms and resting him along the floor. The other two knelt down beside Fit and Pac, all watching intently as Phil worked his magic. He was quick with how he performed, grabbing stitches from the green bag and looping it through the boy’s skin. He made sure it was secure by tugging at it harshly and then proceeded to cut it.

‘How the fuck do you know how to do that?’ Mike asked, genuinely confused. 

Etoiles laughed at the comment, ‘He’s just great at everything.’ He exaggerated, prompting a roll of the eyes from the man currently cleaning the blood off of Tubbo’s stomach. ‘Don’t look at me like that Philza Minecraft! Just say you hate me!’ Etoiles protested, closing his eyes and putting his hands in the air as if he was surrendering.

Phil managed a giggle under his breath as he finished up. ‘You flatter me.’ He replied, picking the mechanic up into his arms in a bridal style and standing onto his feet. Everyone followed the elder’s actions, walking with him as he began heading to Tubbo’s cell.

‘He’ll be fine in the morning, he just needs to rest and get out of this weird state, you know?’ It was as if Phil knew everything, resting the brunette against the cell bed and pulling the covers over him. It was like his dad instincts kicked in as he tucked the boy in, kissing him on the forehead in comfort and then promptly leaving the cell afterwards, shutting the door slowly to avoid the harsh clank it would make.

Once everyone departed, Fit sighed, a sense of relief filling his body as he sat down on the stairs. Pac copied the veteran’s actions, joining him on the stairs as they processed what had just happened in silence, their hearts beating in unison.

‘Man that was fucked.’ Fit began, resting his head in his hands.

Pac giggled nervously, ‘Yeah, I did not expect that this morning.’ It was only 11 am by this point which was quite shocking considering how much shit had gone down.

Pac didn’t really know what was going on, it all had felt like a fever dream and he was only now slowly coming back to reality.

‘I don’t really know what to say, I’m so out of it.’ Fit laughed, dragging his hands down the sides of his face and then into his laps, ‘It feels like I’m high.’ He added, smiling from ear to ear as he turned to look at Pac.

Pac laughed along with him, ‘God I wish I was!’

Fit let out a loud cackle at the comment, wheezing at certain points. God that laugh was all Pac needed, he wished he could pocket the sound and keep it for a shitty day, which was most days recently.

The other finally settled, his laugh coming to an end, ‘So,’ He began, ‘I never heard what you got put in here for.’ 

Were they really having this conversation now? Pac didn’t even think about the fact that neither of them knew anything about each other outside of prison. Fit didn’t know Pac’s and Mike’s story, assuming that it was posted all over the news he never really clicked that people in prison couldn’t view it. 

He swallowed, the lump in his throat not budging as he fiddled with his fingers, picking at them until they bled. Fit noticed, immediately backfiring from his question.

‘Sorry, I- I didn’t mean to touch a sensitive topic.’ He frantically assured, rubbing his left forearm with a sweaty palm. ‘I won’t ask again if you don’t want me to Pac, I-’

‘Fit. It’s alright, really.’ Pac stopped him, looking at his eyes and seeing the genuine guilt glistening in them. It broke his heart seeing Fit so worried, seeing how much he cared. ‘Me and Mike got sentenced to 2 months for robbing a jewellery store. Mike ended up punching a lawyer in the face and had some more time added.’ Pac began.

‘It wasn’t that big of a deal as we’ve been in and out practically our whole lives, but this is a new prison for us and we knew no one. And I’m gonna be honest, I was scared shitless and we both broke down whilst driving here.’ Pac’s eyes began to water as the memories from that sad day flashed before his eyes.

‘Oh, I- I’m sorry Pac. I’ve overheard conversations about you and Mike’s story since it was apparently all over the news.’ Fit responded, Pac could tell he was being very careful with his words, like he was walking along a wire. ‘You didn’t deserve any of it, I hope you know that.’

Pac’s heart warmed at the sentence, he felt so safe around Fit. The fact that he cared enough to even speak to him about the whole situation was so sweet and it sent butterflies in his stomach. ‘Thank you. It means a lot you know?’ 

Fit said nothing, only smiling. Pac watched as he ghosted a hand over his. But it eventually landed on top, intertwining their fingers slightly. It was only in comfort, nothing else. Fit wouldn’t hold Pac’s hand romantically, it was only because he was trying to make him feel better about his past. Right?

‘What happened to you, if you don’t mind me asking?’ Pac spoke, eyes daunting towards the metal arm that hung on the other’s right side. He hadn’t really noticed it since the last couple of days and didn’t know whether to ask about it or not, whether it was stepping over an invisible line.

He watched as Fit looked down towards the metal connected to him, shuddering slightly. ‘No it’s alright. It’s a long story, so I’ll make it short.’ He began, letting out a shaky breath before he continued, ‘I was in the middle of the Rusher war in 2b2t and it was blown up by a bomb. It fucking hurt like a bitch but I sorted it out and pushed through. Someone gave me a metal arm for it, that’s why it looks so shit.’

Pac nodded in acknowledgement, not knowing how to respond. They sat there in sweet silence, their hands joined ever so slightly, each breath in sync.

The day had gone slow from then on, Tubbo hadn’t woken up and dinner was now being served in the cafeteria later than usual as they had to clear up the whole room. It was kind of haunting entering after everything that had happened, like it had created some sort of trauma. Pac just couldn’t get the image of Tubbo’s terrified body curled up in the middle of the floor out of his mind.

He took his tray of food and approached the table, sitting next to Mike who wasn’t even touching his serving. To be honest, the food today looked like slop. It consisted of a porridge type dish in a separate bowl and a slice of bread and a muffin on the side. 

The table was silent, no one knowing what to say after everything, no one wanting to reminisce on it. It was understandable but it didn’t make the moment any less awkward.

Pac took his spoon and took a bite out of the porridge, almost gagging at the taste but managing to swallow it. He shouldn’t have taken such a big bite. But he ate another spoonful anyway considering the officers skipped lunch, by the time lunch rolled around Pac felt too sick to even stomach it so he didn’t really mind. Although it meant that he was starving once it came to dinner.

Mike didn’t touch his food, instead he simply prodded at it with his spoon, not wanting to even take his chances with the taste. Everyone else seemed to be eating only the bread and muffin since they were the only appetising meals on the tray, leaving the porridge behind.

Once Pac had finished up he pushed his tray to the side, licking his lips to try and get the last bit of it into his aching body. He felt sick to his stomach, he didn’t really know what to think right now.

His body felt so weak, so fragile. Not even Foolish was speaking, his eyes were glued to the food in front of him, never batting an eye at anyone else. It must’ve been hard on him finding out what had happened though, considering how close him and Tubbo were.

Phil looked alright, he was trying to stay positive by keeping a slight smile on his face but Pac could tell he was hurting deep down. That was something that Pac was quite good at. He could read people's emotions better than anyone else, always knowing what others are hiding.

With that thought in mind, Pac turned to see how Fit was doing. He seemed to be better than most people at the table, although Pac found it hard to read Fit’s emotions. He didn’t know why it was so difficult, why he was so different. Maybe it was because he was from 2b2t and that was something that he had to do to stay alive. Pac didn’t really know, as he didn’t know much about 2b2t in general. He was too haunted by the incident from his previous prison to want to find out. But he knew that now he had Fit in his life he would need to learn more about it to be able to help him with his trauma or problems and to get a better understanding of why he does what he does.

Finally, the bell rang and the inmates could leave. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of Pac’s shoulders as he quickly got up and left the room, not wanting to stay there any longer from how awkward it was. He was exhausted anyway, it had been such a long day and he was hoping the next was going to be better, he hadn’t had a good day in a while and was practically praying for something to change.

He layed in his bed, his eyes transfixed on the ceiling. He needed to sleep, to get his mind off of things. So he shut his eyes, his mind drifting off as he fell asleep, the silence of the room deafening him.

Chapter Text

To put it straight, Tubbo had been in a coma for 2 days now. Doctors had come to see the poor boy’s condition and it was announced that he would be in a coma for at least another week or so. The inmates hadn’t taken the news so well which is why Pac and the rest of the group were now sitting around a table in the canteen, eating the regular old slop that was served for breakfast and discussing who the fake officer could’ve been.

‘I know nobody that has a single bad thought about Tubbo.’ Phil sighed in defeat, resting his head in his hands. Pac looked over at Mike who was sitting beside him and he too surprisingly looked just as stumped as Phil.

Phil scrunched his brows as he lifted his head as an idea seemed to come to mind, but it didn't seem to be the best one. ‘I know this is a stretch…’ Phil began, looking over at Pac and Mike and then over at Fit who was just as confused as everybody else. ‘But wasn’t Cellbit an ex detective?’ 

Fit audibly groaned as he seemed to have realised where this conversation was going. Pac could see his fists clench tightly as the mention of that man was brought up. His face said it all. ‘I’m not having a fucking maniac on our side.’ Fit looked up towards Phil, almost threateningly as he kept his head low and his expression cold.

‘I know it’s not the best solution but it’s all we have.’ Phil continued, glancing over to Cellbit who was sitting on a table closer to the corner of the room.

Pac felt quite queasy at the suggestion, he could feel his porridge building up in his throat. His face must’ve become an obvious pale by the time Mike put a word into the conversation. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea considering what happened in our first week.’ Mike scoffed as he gestured towards Pac who was cowering beside him.

‘If you’ll excuse me I think I’m going to throw up my breakfast.’ Pac nervously laughed as he got up from the table and left in a hurry, holding his mouth with a shaky hand to try and hold in the soon to be acidic slop. Mike followed on not shortly after, excusing himself from the conversation that he didn’t think they should be having in the first place.

‘Great, look what you did, guys.’ Foolish rolled his eyes as he rested his head against his knuckles.

‘Look what Phil did.’ Fit added, deadpaning over to Phil who was trying to keep the conversation at hand together.

‘Alright, I don’t want Cellbit to team up with us as much as you guys do but it is literally our only option.’ Phil wafted his hands in the air to try and get his point across to the others. ‘I’m sure him and Pac will be fine and we have nothing else to go off of. He is our best bet Fit.’ He continued to emphasise but he could see the anger building up in the Veteran’s face at the idea.

Suddenly, Fit punched the table, his face streaming up with what seemed to be rage. The whole room turned to see what was happening as the loud bang echoed against the cold brick walls of the cafeteria. ‘Fuck!’ He yelled, his shaky hands holding his head up as his fingers ran up and down his temples.

‘You need to calm down.’ Phil suggested standing from his seat and hovering over the table. ‘Look, I’ll go speak to him and see what he says.’ And with that he was off, heading directly for the table in the corner.

Cellbit was sat next to Roier and Quackity, resting back against his chair as he munched down on the dry slice of toast in his hands. He didn’t even bat an eye when Phil eventually arrived at the table, he simply just ignored him and continued eating his food.

‘What’s up Phil?’ Quackity asked, sitting up in his seat to look at the elder properly. Roier’s interest seemed to have piqued as well as he turned to face the man. And soon he had the whole table’s eyes on him, all except Cellbit. But to be honest, Cell was known to be a drama queen, he was a stubborn son of a bitch to put it bluntly.

Phil let out a big sigh before beginning, not knowing how Cellbit will take this conversation was fucking terrifying but it was the only option. ‘We need Cellbit’s help in finding out who the fake officer was that attacked Tubbo.’ He managed to get all the important details out in one go, and it seemed to have pricked Cellbit’s attention as he stopped chewing and if his ears could they definitely pricked themselves up ready to listen for more.

The whole table fell silent as the cannibal swallowed his food and slowly put the piece of toast down. Phil’s eyes were transfixed on the man, he wasn’t scared of him, god Cell wouldn’t dare lay a finger on Phil. But it was the fear of what he would do to others that scared him the most.

‘Fine. I’m up for it, as long as Pac stays out of my fucking way.’ Cell scoffed as he reluctantly got up from his chair, taking the last bite of his toast before continuing, ‘That son of a bitch deserves to be slapped the shit out of for what he got me into.’ Phil could see the distaste in the cannibal’s face.

‘I’ll make sure he doesn’t fuck with you.’ Phil was definitely lying through his teeth and he was hoping Cellbit couldn’t tell. Of course he couldn’t make sure that Pac would stay in his lane but he really needed the man to be on his side. ‘Why don’t you come over to our table to discuss things, maybe it’ll make you feel better?’ Phil suggested, gesturing towards the table over by the entrance. 

Cellbit nodded slowly and began following Phil until he got to an empty chair beside Foolish, taking his seat and going back to slouching.

Fit couldn’t help but give the guy a death stare, all his pent up rage and anger could be dealt with right then and there with a simple punch to the cannibal’s face but he held himself back. Instead resorting to showing his desires through glares.

Mike walked into his cell and caught Pac gagging up his breakfast into the toilet, his hair flowing freely in his face as he coughed up whatever he could. Pac’s throat was so sore, his back hurt from slouching over the toilet seat for the past ten minutes and he was running out of breath from how much he was throwing up.

‘Fucking hell, it just keeps coming.’ Mike laughed as he rushed over, crouching down behind him and grabbing a chunk of his hair holding it out of the way.

‘If you’re going to be annoying you can leave.’ Pac managed to cough out before throwing up another load of slop.

‘Jesus! I might not help you then.’ Mike joked, sticking his nose up into the air dramatically.

Eventually the gagging stopped, and Pac was able to breath for a moment. Mike had made sure to grab the other a cup of water to wash down the acidic taste that was most likely burning Pac’s throat hoarse. 

Pac took it to his lips and downed the whole thing in one big gulp before handing the cup back to Mike. He messed with his hair a little and then got to his feet, at first he was a little big wobbly but Mike was quickly glued to his side as they walked out of the cell.

By now, everyone had come out of the cafeteria and were simply mingling with one another whilst waiting for the guards to open up the outdoor area. It was peaceful for a moment, the soft voices of the inmates echoing against the cold walls of the cell house. 

But it was then that Pac’s view caught on to Cellbit who was talking with Phil and the group. A sense of betrayal began to cover Pac’s heart, after that whole conversation this morning, and everything that the cannibal had done to him, his group just let him walk on into their conversations as if nothing ever happened.

It hurt Pac more then he had expected it too, as he knew that Cell was the only way to figure out Tubbo’s attacker, but he couldn’t help but feel the stinging pain in his body as he stopped in his steps. He could feel tears filling his eyes to the brim, eager to escape and trickle down his face. But Pac tried to keep it all in, to act like none of this was fazing him.

At first Mike was confused as to why Pac had all of a sudden stopped but once he looked ahead of himself he quickly caught on, and that’s when he also noticed the sudden shift in Pac’s body language and expression. He could see the tears building up in the other’s face and immediately knew what was running through his soulmate’s mind.

‘I won’t let him hurt you again.’ Mike promised. As Pac turned to look at him with that feared expression that had been plastered against his face, he caught Mike already looking back, his eyes filled with nothing but care and anger. He said nothing else, other than bringing Pac in for a tight reassuring hug that spoke so much more than any words ever could in this situation.

The two broke apart and Pac took a moment to take a breather before walking up to everybody else, sticking closely by Mike’s side once they arrived.

Cellbit stopped mid sentence as the duo joined the group, his vision running up and down Pac with this bitter glisten in his eyes and an obvious distaste in his voice as he continued to speak. Fit noticed the sudden change in the man’s tone and Pac saw how the veteran’s fists squeezed shut, so tightly that his nails were piercing through his palm’s skin and his teeth gritted against each other as he watched the cannibal’s mouth blabber about whatever nonsense he was saying.

‘Now we are all here, let’s actually discuss the whole attacker thing as that’s what you’re actually here for.’ Charlie butted in once Cellbit had finished his unnecessary rant about how his toast was dry this morning.

Phil nodded in agreement as he turned his head to look at Cellbit, as if indicating for him to take the lead on this conversation and which he did.

‘I’ll start with the fact that the only person I know having a dislike for Tubbo is that officer that works in the courtyard.’ Cellbit stopped for a moment to think before continuing, ‘Other than that, I’d have to analyse people’s actions and reactions to the situation and towards Tubbo before deciding who the suspects could be.’

It was silent for a moment after Cell had finished his evaluation. Foolish was the first to speak, ‘And what do we do before then?’ There was a strong tone of concern in Foolish’s voice once he was talking about Tubbo, his best friend, his partner in crime. Pac could tell just by looking at the man that he was on the verge of breaking but he was keeping it together very well.

‘Try your best to watch how people walk around and act, normally it's a dead giveaway as to who it is since they’ll be acting off, more anxious per say.’ The others nodded in acknowledgement, ‘And try your best to ask people about their thoughts on the whole situation but don’t bring it up out of the blue because then it’s obvious about what you’re looking for. You have to ease it into the conversation.’

‘Alright, everyone split up and hopefully we can find something in the next couple of hours.’ Phil ordered. And with that, the group split in different directions, Foolish and Charlie heading towards one direction and Phil and Missa walking towards the other. 

Just as Mike, Pac and Fit were going to head off as well, Cellbit grabbed Pac by the forearm, forcing him to turn to face him, a snarl tugging at his lips showing off his sharp skin-tearing teeth. Pac could feel his hot breath against his skin, his breath hitched and his eyes grew wide as fear began to take its toll.

‘Get the fuck off of him you dick!’ Fit threatened, pulling Pac out of his grip and taking his place in front of Cellbit who gritted his teeth at him. Mike grabbed his partner in crime and pulled him into a protective hug, making sure he couldn’t be yanked away from his grasp. He could feel the others' tears dampening his shirt as his heartbeat quickened against Mike’s body.

‘I was just going to have a nice little conversation.’ Cellbit joked as he folded his arms against his chest, it seemed that he wasn’t the slightest bit threatened by Fit’s sudden aggression which was a shock.

Fit rolled his eyes as his fits tightened, ‘If you lay a finger on him I’ll fuck you up.’ He watched as Cell laughed in his face, but Fit stood his ground and continued, ‘And this time I won't stop until you're dead.’

The laughing stopped for a moment before Cellbit smiled a disgusting sharp-toothed grin at the three of them. ‘Well if you three fuck up this whole mission I know who to pounce on first.’ And with that he turned and left, leaving Pac in terror at the insinuation of Cell’s words. Mike could feel the other’s breath heighten once more and he hugged him tighter.

Fit was furious, you could see it in his eyes as he turned back around to face the duo. But his face almost immediately softened as he saw the fear across Pac’s face that was snuggled against Mike’s chest.

‘Don’t worry, you two are so strong. If he tries to attack you two I’m sure that you can fight back, and if not, I’m always right around the corner.’ The two nodded and Mike let Pac get out of his grip but he kept an arm around his shoulders for that little extra bit of comfort.

‘Thank you Fit.’ Mike responded, and to be honest, it was probably the first time Pac had seen Mike actually feel safe around someone that wasn’t him. If anyone else offered to fight for him, Mike would immediately shut them down with a distasteful tang hanging on his tongue, but for some reason Fit was different. ‘But we should probably go hunting for a suspect like all of the others.’ 

‘Of course, let’s set off towards the courtyard, I have a weird suspicion for that guard Cellbit was on about earlier.’ Fit suggested.

The officer stood at the side of the busy courtyard, staying hidden underneath the trees that stood in the corner beside the large barbed fences that kept the cellmates in. It was an awkward place to stand but the three ignored that for now as they approached the guard.

The guard wore the officers’ uniform, a black police hat, a light navy blue button up and some dark navy trousers. A baton hung on his belt along with a taser that was strapped securely against his side to make sure no prisoner could snatch it. His face was quite pale and he wore a bored and bland expression, he showed no interest as he watched the three slowly come towards him.

‘What do you lot want?’ His voice was an average male’s voice and he sounded irritated before the conversation had even started. 

‘Was just wondering if you knew anything about what happened to Tubbo the other day?’ Mike began, and Pac mentally slapped him around the head because the one thing Cellbit told them not to do was say what they wanted straight up since it was now obvious that they considered him a suspect. Fit had to hold back a laugh as he watched Pac roll his eyes and scoff.

The officer chuckled for a moment before responding. ‘Me? I wasn’t even there. Plus I don’t even like the kid anyway, he’s probably the most annoying prisoner here I’d say good riddance.’ He folded his arms and turned to walk away but Pac was onto him before he could even take a step.

‘Wait! What’s your name? And why do you hate Tubbo?’ Pac asked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as to how someone could possibly hate Tubbo. He was probably the funniest and nicest kid here, his immature jokes and snarky comments were the highlight to Pac’s day and he didn’t think it was even possible to hate him let alone hope he was gone.

‘It’s Agent 18, and the kid always starts an argument with me whenever he lays his eye on me for no reason. Its fucking annoying. Now if you excuse me I’m going to do my duties.’ And he was gone, no stopping him this time.

Fit opened his mouth to speak but no words came out, the same confusion as Pac had was now spread across his face too. Mike wasn’t any better either as he rested his hands against his hips. ‘He could be what we’re looking for, you know.’ Mike said, breaking the awkward silence between the three of them.

Fit nodded in acknowledgement but didn’t add anything to the conversation at hand. ‘I mean, he seemed to just hate the arguments.’ Pac began, his hair flowing in his face from the harsh winds, ‘But I don’t see that as a reason for him to try and kill Tubbo.’ 

‘Either way it’s worth noting.’ Fit finally added. Pac turned to face him and to his surprise Fit was already looking back, once they made eye contact, Fit immediately looked away, a light blush creeping on his cheeks. Pac smiled at the sudden flustered mess he had become and he turned to look at Mike who was dramatically rolling his eyes.

‘If you two are going to flirt, at least do it when I’m not here.’ Mike scoffed. Pac nudged him on the shoulder lightly in retaliation as he began to laugh at the comment. Whilst on the other hand, Fit was jaw dropped, his face a bright red as he lifted his hands in front of him trying to hide his flusteredness.

‘We were not flirting!’ Pac wheezed, practically collapsing into Mike’s side as he became a giggly mess and Fit couldn’t help but move his fingers ever so slightly so that he could see the gorgeous sight of Pac, a massive smile on his face whilst his eyes were squeezed shut and his hair flew over his features from the breeze. His laugh was angelic, like a breath of fresh air. 

Mike had his arms folded over his chest and he didn’t look very impressed. ‘I’ve never seen such worse lovers in my life.’ He giggled as Pac fully hit him on the shoulder this time, his face growing the same colour as Fit’s.

‘Woah woah! Calma calma!’ Fit immediately said, putting his hands in front of him and shaking them frantically as he tried his best to deny the accusations. Although, it was difficult to hide his true emotions for Pac as his brain was not helping him, and neither was Pac himself.

Mike giggled for a moment before taking his friend by the arms and shaking him dramatically to try and stop him from laughing in which it surprisingly worked as the other slowly came to a stop. Pac slouched slightly as he held his stomach which hurt from the laughter, he tried his best to catch his breath before speaking, ‘It’s nearly dinner time, w- we should probably get going you know.’ Pac breathlessly pointed out, holding onto Mike’s arm to keep him standing, a big smile tugging at his lips.

Cellbit surprisingly sat with the group at dinner, it wasn’t in anyone’s interest to have him there but no matter what anyone said he was not budging so they were kind of just stuck with him. It didn’t really affect the others that much though, the only person that was really affected by it was Pac for obvious reasons.

Pac couldn’t stop the thoughts of Cellbit attacking him from entering his mind, he could barely eat the food sat in front of him even though his stomach was rumbling from hunger, Pac could feel the stinging pain as his body practically begged for food. But he could only play with it with his fork, rolling the peas around his plate aimlessly as the memories of Cellbit punching him flashed before his eyes. 

He didn’t think he could even stomach food at the moment, he was on the brink of having a panic attack but he tried his best to keep it all down, like Mike always does. Although it was so difficult to act like nothing was affecting him. He turned to look at Fit and Fit was already looking back, a worried expression on his face as he tried to speak to Pac with no words.

Pac could kind of tell what Fit was trying to say and got up from the table, leaving the food behind and walking out without saying a word. ‘What’s his issue then?’ Cellbit asked as he took a fork full of steak to his mouth and chewed on it. 

‘Maybe because you’re here you maniac.’ Fit spat before standing and following after Pac leaving the rest of the group confused as to what was happening. Fit was angry to put it lightly, he felt so angry that Cellbit was purposefully hanging around them to rile Pac up, it was so painfully obvious and he didn’t understand how the rest of the group were so oblivious to it. And if they did notice, why hadn’t they said anything? Was it because they were scared? Because that was just ridiculous especially for people like Phil as Cell wouldn’t even dare yell at him let alone fight him.

Fit just didn’t understand why nobody seemed to give two shits about Pac’s wellbeing. It annoyed him to the fullest and it made him want to punch someone. He could feel the rage build up underneath his skin as he laid eyes on Pac who was crying in his cell.

The poor man was sitting on his bed, his head in his hands as he tried to keep his breath somewhat steady. Fit quickly rushed over, kneeling in front of him, ‘Hey, I’m here! Everythings okay, you’re okay.’ He tried to soothe, moving Pac’s hands out the way so that Fit could look him in the eyes. And Fit could feel his strong heart shatter at the look on Pac’s face. 

There were tears streaming down his cheeks, he was sobbing and his eyes were red. His hair was a mess but Fit didn’t mind. All that mattered right now was getting Pac to calm down because currently it was very obvious that Pac could barely breathe. He was holding a hand against his chest as he tried to take in a few deep breaths but it didn’t seem to work as the tears just kept flowing.

‘Fit!’ Pac cried as he couldn’t help but collapse in Fit’s arms, falling off the bed in the process. It was a bit of an awkward hug for a moment as Fit didn't really know how to hug someone, Pac’s arms were tightly hugging him around his neck as he weeped into his shoulder. Fit could feel his heart racing beneath his ribs as he slowly put his arms around the other’s waist, being cautious as to not hurt him.

It was kind of comforting to just be hugged for once, and Pac seemed to think so too as after a while he seemed to calm down, his breathing slowly going back to normal as Fit felt Pac’s heart rate against his own. He could feel a hot flush growing against his cheeks and he tried his best to ignore it but it was quite difficult when hugging Pac. 

Fit didn’t know what the weird feeling was, it felt warm and fuzzy and it made his body feel relaxed for the first time since before 2b2t which was more than decades ago. Even after reading all of those stupid books from the library, Fit still couldn't understand his emotions. He would ask Phil about it but he didn’t want to look weak or stupid. That was his biggest fear so he had to resort to figuring it out himself, and if this was the way then he would follow that path.

‘Thank you.’ Fit could hear Pac mumble against the crook of his neck. The rumble of the other’s voice filled his body for a moment which sent shivers up his spine. He didn’t know what to say, what was appropriate to say in this situation? Ignoring the fact that Fit was probably not even able to say a cohering sentence let alone anything else.

‘N- no problem.’ He stuttered. Fit mentally slapped himself in the face for how stupid that must’ve sounded and Pac must’ve agreed too as he heard a soft giggle escape the other’s lips. ‘Oi you!’ Fit laughed along as he reluctantly pulled away to look at Pac’s face.

‘That was such a pathetic attempt at a sentence.’ Pac laughed, his heart felt warm but his body felt cold from the loss of having Fit in his arms. But he understood that he needed to give Fit space when it came to physical affection like hugging especially considering the fact that he didn’t even hug him at first. ‘I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I didn’t mean to I-’ 

Fit stopped him by covering Pac’s mouth with his hand, it was a stupid move but it did the job as he watched the other’s face grow bright red from the sudden gesture. He lowered his hand once realising what he had done but chose not to linger on it, ‘It was nice, I haven’t hugged anyone since pre 2b2t which was probably decades ago.’ Fit chuckled softly but there was no amusement in it.

Pac felt warmed that Fit felt comfortable enough to even reveal just a little bit of his past life and perhaps even his trauma. ‘If you ever need a hug don’t be afraid to ask’ Pac smiled sweetly as he let out a little giggle before standing up. Fit stood himself up as well and began to head off before turning back towards Pac.

‘Of course, thank you Pac. You’re too good to me.’ And with that, Fit left. Pac was on his own again but this time he felt safe and maybe even loved. It was weird and a bit awkward at times but he felt as though Fit was finally opening up to him, and no matter how long it takes and how slow it will be Pac will always be there waiting for him.

Chapter Text

Pac was on his own like usual in the gym, mainly working on his core strength and his biceps. It was an annoying and tiring task but Pac knew that he had to do it as he was probably going to encounter another fight during his time in prison.

Being strong in prison was almost a necessity as without it you would probably be killed. And considering Pac’s past and the people that he knew were out to get him currently, it was best to keep his muscles strong and ready for whatever may hit him.

He was currently running on the treadmill, his orange jacket thrown off to the side over by the weights rack out of the way. His heart was rapidly beating against his ribs and sweat was practically dripping down from his forehead as he pushed himself to his limits. He felt as if he needed to exercise as much as possible because at the moment he felt weak, like he wasn't good enough.

It was a sudden and weird emotion that Pac didn’t really expect he’d be feeling, and to be honest, he hadn't felt this way since before all of this, before all of the crime and mischief that him and Mike had decided to do. He didn’t know how to get rid of the feeling and it was starting to become a burden in his life, he just wanted to live normally sometimes. Not having to deal with court dates and prison sounded so wonderful, but Pac also didn’t want all of this to end, all of the crime and the stupidity was so much fun and the popularity that came with it was also a key factor.

He didn’t want to let Mike know how he was feeling, it’d only worry him more than he already was from Cellbit now deciding to join their group. That was probably a part of the whole ‘being a burden’ thing that Pac was experiencing as he didn’t really feel wanted in their group anymore. Whenever he tried to say something Cellbit would immediately shut him down and begin rambling on about junk that doesn’t even matter.

Like yes, all his other friends still listened to him and laughed at his stupid jokes and sometimes even checked in on him when Cell wasn't around, but he still felt as though he wasn’t really needed and him being there was more of a hassle then it was good. Them having to deal with his stupid little breakdowns and panic attacks from the little bit of trauma that Cellbit had caused. 

Pac was absolutely petrified that he was going to try something again, that if he said or did something even the slightest bit wrong Cell would take it the wrong way and attack him. It was a constant fear and Pac felt stupid for it because it made him look weak, as if he wasn’t emotionally and physically strong enough to just put up with it. Pac didn’t understand how Mike and Fit did it, how they just hid their emotions without even trying. 

So Pac’s way out of all of his problems and out of his mind was exercising, the one time at prison where he could just focus on himself and focus on being the best version of himself. It was his only time to be truly alone and that’s what he liked about working out. Nobody to disturb him, nobody to tell him how to think or what to do, it felt freeing and relaxing.

Once Pac hit the 20 minute mark, he clicked the stop button on the treadmill, causing it to instantly slow down under his feet forcing him to come to a halt. His legs ached from the running and he was out of breath but he felt good about himself. Yet he also felt as if his body needed a break for the day so he decided to head to where his jacket was left ready to leave and greet the others.

But it was just as he tied the jacket around his waist and re-tied his shoelaces that a man he did not recognise walked through the big double doors. Pac looked up to see who the person was and was confused by the spiteful look he was already giving him. As if the man already knew who he was. It was so weird considering Pac had never spoken to the guy in his life let alone do something so bad for him to give him such glares.

His hair was jet black and slightly curly, his eyes were a natural blue and his face was slightly paler than others. He wore a black bandana that his hair sat upon and a pair of black sunglasses hung loosely in his trouser pocket. His eyes were full of hatred, never leaving Pac’s face as he made his way over to the arm curl machine to presumably work on his biceps. 

‘Do you have an issue?’ Pac confidently asked, no fear in his tone as he felt superior in this situation considering he didn’t even know what he did to harm this guy that he didn’t know the name of. The man chuckled for a moment before rolling his eyes, his sight finally leaving Pac’s as he focused on setting up for his sets.

‘Nothing, just seeing who my replacement is.’ He vaguely answered, turning for a split second to catch Pac’s reaction before going back to what he was doing. The confusion in Pac’s face must’ve been very obvious as he heard a soft laugh escape the man’s lips.

‘What do you mean by that?’ Pac pressed further, straightening his back more so that he seemed strong and overpowering, his chest puffed out and his body fully turned towards the guy. He was carefully and slowly approaching him step by step.

He turned to face Pac once more, this time not spinning back around like he previously did. There was a very obvious distaste glistening in his eyes. ‘Oh you know damn well what I’m talking about.’

‘I’m not a mind reader.’ Pac responded, crossing his arms over his chest and flexing them more to show off his muscles just in case something were to happen.

‘You know…’ He began, a smirk spreading against his lips, ‘Maybe the fact that you’re flirting with Fit?’

Pac’s jaw practically dropped as he smiled and scoffed. His heart was beating fast in his chest telling him to leave and let this guy be, but he had to know why he was so angry about it. ‘First of all, I’m not. And second of all, if I was, why are you so mad?’ 

The man thought for a moment on whether he should reply or not before finally speaking, ‘We used to be a thing before you entered the picture.’ He gritted his teeth. ‘I left him as he was too fragile and I didn’t want to deal with that but that doesn’t mean you can just walk on in here and act like you own the place, he doesn’t like you because he’s not over me yet and won’t be for a while, so back. The fuck. Up.’

Pac actually laughed out loud, what the fuck was this guy on about? ‘Who even are you? He has never even mentioned you let alone care for you, that really shows how important you are.’ Pac joked, his heart was thumping against his bones but he ignored it, trying his best to seem unfazed as if he wasn’t afraid of being punched right in the face.

‘You’re messing with the wrong guy. Watch your fucking step around Fit, because next time I see you fucking things up I will beat you.’ He said before taking his stuff and heading for the door.

But before he could leave, Pac grabbed his forearm and spun him around so that he was facing him. His expression was aggressive and fierce, as if he was ready to throw hands right there and then. ‘You didn’t answer my question, who are you?’ Pac said under his breath, his eyes narrowed and glaring straight into the guy’s soul.

He watched as the other hesitated for a second before responding, ‘Spreen.’ And with that, he ripped his arm out of Pac’s grasp and left the room, his harsh steps echoing the halls as he rushed down the empty corridor leaving Pac questioning the whole conversation. The first thing that Pac thought of doing was having a conversation with Fit, he just had to find him first and hope that he wasn’t in a bad mood.

Once he grabbed his water bottle and his little towel for wiping sweat off of his forehead, he headed out the door, the slam of the doors shutting behind him was all that could be heard down the corridor as he quickly made his way over to the cell house, cutting through it and saying hi to familiar faces before entering the courtyard where Fit was.

But as Pac approached him, he quickly realised that this was not the time to bring Spreen up, as Fit was already in the process of yelling at Phil, his brows were furrowed and his eyes were filled with rage. Pac could tell from the look on Fit’s face that he was trying his best not to lose his shit but Pac could also tell that that plan was slowly slipping away from his mind.

Phil on the other hand was ignoring the fact that Fit was screaming in his face and instead was staying calm and relaxed, as if this was a daily occurrence between the two. They’d known each other for so long that Pac had guessed that this is just how they spoke to each other now. 

He finally got to the two of them and stood beside either one of them, trying to understand what was being yelled but it was difficult with how much Fit was yelling and how fast he was speaking. 

‘What do you mean you can’t do anything about it!’ Fit argued, throwing his hands in the air. Phil laughed and crossed his arms over his chest.

‘He’s his own person. I can't control where he goes and what he does Fit.’ Phil responded calmly, his foot was tapping against the floor.

‘I guess you just don’t give a shit about anyone else’s wellbeing. Have you not seen what him being here is doing to people like Pac and Mike!’ He yelled back in retaliation.

Pac finally understood what Fit was going on about. It all had clicked in his brain. Fit was trying to tell Phil how badly Cellbit being around them was affecting him and Mike. But it didn’t seem like Phil was really trying to do anything about it as he was just shutting Fit down every time he made a good argument. But this time, Phil didn’t shut Fit down, he didn’t say anything. He was silent for quite a while which made Fit growl under his breath.

‘Mate, I do care, but sometimes I can’t help you. I’ve told him before not to fuck about yet he still does it so I can’t do anything anymore.’ Phil reasoned. Fit was left sort of speechless, when he tried to say something his mouth just hung dry, no words being able to come out. It was weird seeing Fit so dumb founded like this, it wasn’t normal and even Phil started to get worried.

‘I can try to have a conversation with him but I really can’t promise anything.’ He suggested. This time Fit kind of accepted the fact that there wasn’t much either of them could do and reluctantly gave a slight nod. Pac could see how hurt he looked through his eyes that others might’ve just looked straight through and missed.

‘Anyway, how are you doing Pac?’ Phil smiled, trying to brighten the conversation a little bit by changing the topic. Fit hadn’t even noticed Pac was there as he jumped a little once turning to face him, but he quickly changed his disappointed expression into a massive smile which warmed Pac’s heart.

‘I’m alright, just a bit shaken up.’ He hesitated, his heart was once again thumping hard against his ribcage as he began to think about the previous events from this morning. It was so weird and unexpected that it had shaken his brain up a little and he couldn’t really think straight. But he was going to try his best and not startle Fit either as he expected that it’d shock him when the man’s name would be mentioned.

The two looked confused at Pac’s response, most likely not expecting it. ‘How come? Do you need someone to deal with it?’ Fit was straight away offering his help in hand, it was kind of sweet how he immediately suggested fighting for him when he heard someone was being weird towards him.

Pac scuffed his shoes against the floor as he hesitated for a moment, trying to think of the best way to say what happened, ‘This man came up to me in the gym and I think he threatened me.’

‘Who?’ Fit pressed, his eyes darting open with this look of murderous intent. It was kind of scary seeing how quickly he could switch to his 2b2t side. His fists were already clenching tightly together, his nails beginning to redden the skin underneath his non-metal palm.

Phil was less angry but more concerned as his face said it all. His eyes were filled with worry and he brought a hand to Pac’s shoulder in comfort. ‘He said his name was Spreen?’ Pac replied, slowly allowing the words to leave his mouth and watching Fit’s reaction to the name intently. 

It was terrifying how quickly his face turned into full on rage mixed with this weird sense of fear that Pac had never seen in him before. Pac could feel his energy radiating around him as he gritted his teeth, the nails that were indenting his skin were now causing his palm to bleed. ‘Why the fuck is he threatening you? Phil, do you hear this shit?!?’ 

Phil’s eyes widened at Pac’s response, his brows narrowing slightly as he tried to keep his composure unlike Fit. ‘I don’t know!’ He replied, his voice was higher than before and Pac could tell that he was scared as to what Fit had up his sleeves. Considering how he reacted to Cellbit, a random guy to him at the time, punching Pac, it was reasonable being afraid of what he would do to a man he used to have something with threatening him.

‘Pac, this is a conversation I’ll have with you later, for now, you need to tell me exactly what he said to you and where the fuck he is because I’m not having his sorry ass threatening you.’ Fit got straight to the point, his eyes never leaving Pac’s.

‘He just told me not to ‘fuck about’ with you because you’re apparently not over him and if he sees me around you again then he will beat me.’ Pac had shrunk himself to the smallest he possibly could, he felt as if he was just making Fit’s life even more difficult than it already was by fucking around with his previous friendships and relationships. Looking at Fit’s face right now was not helping the burden feeling that Pac was just trying to get rid of as Fit didn't not look pleased, he looked as if he’d punch Pac right then and there if it wasn’t for the weird friendship he and Fit had for each other.

‘That fucking bitch.’ Fit gritted as he stormed off, presumably looking for Spreen, leaving Pac and Phil questioning as to what he was going to do, the fear running through Phil’s face said all that Pac needed to know. It was like confirmation as to what Fit would do. He was presumably going to beat his ass to simply put it.

—---------------------

Pac had just finished having a conversation with Mike and he was now brushing his teeth getting ready for lights out. His eyes were droopy and he was half awake, his body ached from all of the exercising he had done in the morning and he just wanted to flop onto his bed and let sleep take him away but he had to get ready first.

He washed his face with the dirty water that barely came out of his cell’s sink, drying himself off with the sleeve of his orange jumpsuit jacket before taking his clothes off leaving him in nothing but his white tank top and some shorts that he was given by Bagi after complaining non-stop for days on end about not having any.

The cell quarters were pretty silent, the only noise being footsteps from other prisoners walking around the room and the soft noise of speaking from others. It was peaceful for a moment as Pac sat on the edge of his bed. He could hear footsteps approaching his cell but he only assumed it was Mike or Fit so he chose to just ignore it.

But it was when Pac noticed the person standing in the doorway wasn’t who he thought it was that he rose from the edge of his bed, fear trickling throughout his body as he felt all of his nerves tense. Cellbit grinned at him with this sly evil grin. Pac was terrified, he tried his best to calm himself down but he just couldn’t when Cell was standing right in front of him.

‘I just had Phil scream in my face and I’m only assuming it was because of you.’ Cellbit’s smile dropped, a nasty stare replaced it as he practically spat out his words.

Pac kept quiet, thinking that if he said nothing then Cell wouldn’t try to hurt him. Pac just wanted to sleep, he just wanted this all to be over with, and he knew if he’d scream for help Cell would just knock him out clean on the floor which was presumably worse then whatever he had up his sleeves.

‘Now I’m going to warn you one more time. If you fuck things up for me right now I will fucking kill you don’t test me cadela.’ He got closer to Pac, grabbing his wrist and twisting it slowly and painfully. Pac tried to wriggle out of his grasp but it only made the pain worse as he hissed, he could hear the sound of his bones cracking. His wrist was the wrong way around, his heart was beating hard and he was trying his best to cover up the excruciating screams that were threatening to escape his mouth as he didn’t want to alert others. Tears were falling down his face and only when Cellbit let go of him did he let out a cry, grabbing onto his own wrist to try and soothe the extreme pain.

And with that, Cellbit left, leaving Pac wailing in pain, finally being able to scream as his wrist pulsated underneath the grasp of his own hand. 

His screams echoed through the prison's cold brick walls which seemed to have alerted Mike as he rushed through the door, laying his eyes upon Pac who was slid against the wall on the floor, holding his wrist as it was twisted. His eyes were red, tears staining his cheeks.

‘Oh my god what happened?’ Mike was extremely worried, crouching down infront of Pac and carefully taking his wrist into his palm, analysing the damage that had been done. Every little touch caused another yell of agony to escape Pac’s lips.

His pulse was beating hard against his veins as Mike began to soothe it with his fingers the best he could, really he needed Phil here as he was the best at medicine. So Mike promised Pac he’d be back and he left in a hurry, coming back with Phil and Fit by his side.

Phil had a sense of urgency as he saw the severity of Pac’s wrist, it being the completely wrong way wasn’t what Phil had expected but nevertheless he placed the first aid kit he had on hand when being dragged here onto the floor, and quickly opened up the lid, pulling out what seemed to be a bottle with purple liquid inside. ‘Take this, it will make your wrist go numb so that I can turn it the right way around.’ He urged as he uncorked it and helped Pac pour it into his mouth.

The liquid was disgusting. It was sour and unpleasant but Pac drank it anyway. The medicine flowed quickly down his throat as it began working its magic. The taste wasn’t the best, leaving a bitter acidic tang on his tongue causing his face to scrunch up.

Phil laughed softly, ‘It’s not supposed to taste nice.’ He giggled. He was crouched down at Pac’s level, Mike was sitting on the bed beside them and Fit was leant in the doorway.

Pac hadn’t really taken in his surroundings until now and had only just noticed the bruises that covered Fit’s face, his nose was dried with blood and he had a black left eye. His fists were bloody and bruised and he wasn’t wearing his orange jacket like normal, showing off his broad build and the lighting was helping highlight his muscular arms which caused Pac to blush.

One could only assume that he had gone to have a fight with Spreen after the argument with Phil this morning. And seeing how he looked, Pac could only guess that he had won it considering he was practically showing it off by not cleaning himself up afterwards. Although Fit's expression was cold and he wasn’t really saying much, he seemed upset but as if he was trying to hide it with anger instead.

Pac had to ignore it though, as he looked down towards his wrist to see Phil in the process of turning it back around. He couldn’t feel it because of the medicine he took but it still looked disgusting and he could feel a familiar acidic sensation travelling up his throat.

‘Phil I think i’m gonna be sick.’ Pac tapped the old man’s shoulder urgently as he tried to stop it from coming out of his mouth. 

Phil looked up to see that Pac was in fact pale as ever, holding his mouth with his free hand. ‘Alright, alright. Mike, is there a bowl near you?’ Mike took a quick look and shook his head. ‘Umm, Fit, is there anything near you that Pac can throw up in?’ Fit left the cell for a moment before returning with a bucket, presumably one that had been left out by the janitor.

‘It’s a bit wet but it should do the trick.’ Fit spoke, handing the metal bucket over to Phil. It was in fact dripping with water, but Phil placed it down anyway beside Pac and once he resumed back to Pac’s wrist Pac gagged into it. His meals from today flew out of his mouth like a water stream, splattering onto the bottom of the bucket with a grim squelch sound. 

‘God that’s disgusting.’ Mike complained, turning his head away to face towards the door of the cell instead. Pac looked up for a second and rolled his eyes once he caught the sight of Mike. 

‘Oh get over yourself.’ Pac joked. He then returned to throwing up again.

Phil had nearly finished turning his wrist back around, he was determined and the cracking noises Pac’s  bones made when being turned just had to be ignored as it would put him off the whole thing all together. ‘It’s nearly over Pac, I promise.’ Phil assured. 

Fit lifted himself from the doorway and crouched by Pac’s side, rubbing circles along his back with his real hand to soothe him a little. By now, Pac had finished throwing up, wiping away at the slop that was lingering on the corners of his lips as he swallowed down the saliva left in his mouth, the acidic taste leaving his throat hoarse.

Phil was also done. He proceeded to grab a bandage from the little medic kit of his and began wrapping his wrist in it, cutting it to the right length and tucking it into itself so it wouldn’t fall off. He then wiped some of the blood from Pac’s arm from where Cellbit had dug his fingernails into his skin. It had left little nail indents which Phil took a moment longer to analyse, Pac saw this knowing look in his eyes as if he knew exactly who did this just by the marks left behind.

Phil looked up at Pac and gave him a look that spoke so many words, as if he was asking whether he was right or not, concern laced on every inch of his face. Pac nodded in response and Phil nodded back in acknowledgement, he looked disappointed and worried but he brushed it off so that nobody else would be worrying about it as it could be dealt with on a later date.

Phil got up and began heading out towards his own cell as it was nearly lights out, he gave a little wave on his way out. Fit had already left, he had given Pac a soft smile before leaving. Mike stayed as they were sharing a cell together, he didn’t seem very happy but that was expected as Pac had just had his wrist turned.

Conversation had run dry and Pac was laying down against his bed, his head rested upon the hard pillow. He was overthinking a lot of things, his mind was so loud and it was getting harder to ignore it. Mike had just finished washing his face and was now getting into bed, lifting the covers over him as he rested his head. He was facing towards Pac, watching as the other just stared blankly at the ceiling.

‘Are you alright?’ Mike asked, concern was hanging on every word of his. Pac turned his head to face Mike, his eyes were slightly watery but he hid it so well that Mike didn’t seem to notice, and if he did, he didn’t mention it.

‘Yeah, just thinking about things.’ Pac responded, it was a very dull answer but Pac didn’t really have the energy to delve into it deeper.

‘Just know I’m here okay?’

Pac nodded, ‘Yes of course.’ He smiled softly as he yawned.

‘That’s what brothers are here for, and we're basically brothers at this point.’ Mike laughed as he turned the other way and shut his eyes. ‘Boa noite Pac.’ 

—------------------------------ 

It was the middle of the next day, Pac and the rest of the group were gathered around in the courtyard, the cold breeze was kind of refreshing after yesterday’s events. Cellbit was still hanging around, his eyes would occasionally dart over to Pac and he would give him this death stare that felt like lasers going through his skin.

They were all there except for Foolish and Charlie, nobody seemed to know where they were and that’s what today's discussion was about. ‘I have no fucking clue where they are.’ Phil said, crossing his arms over his chest.

‘I thought they were looking for some more evidence?’ Missa pointed out, he didn’t really speak up much so when he did everyone always listened. ‘I mean, they were pretty certain they knew who it was but they didn’t tell me a name.’ 

Cellbit’s ears perked up, his eyes darting to Missa, it was like someone mentioning ice cream to a little kid. ‘We need to find them, I am not having evidence go under my nose.’ He ordered, his facial expression was terrifying, almost threatening.

‘Just chill out for a second, I’m sure they’ll be back in no time.’ Fit scoffed, rolling his eyes. And just as Fit said, the two approached the group, big smiles on either of their faces.

‘We have some pretty damning evidence for you.’ Foolish started off, resting his hands on his hips, ‘So you know how Tubbo is in the medic’s room to recover? Well, we saw a pretty suspicious person wandering around outside as if waiting for him to come out.’ Everyone nodded along in acknowledgement.

‘And even though they were hooded, me and Foolish were able to see a feature to them that reveals exactly who they are and it confirms our suspicions.’ Charlie added.

‘Just tell us who.’ Mike impatiently said, tapping his foot against the grass underneath his feet.

Charlie thought for a moment and continued, ‘Well he had a pretty familiar beanie and he wore those sunglasses that only that one person is seen with.’ Pac watched as Phil’s jaw dropped, his hand flying to cover his mouth as he gritted his teeth.

‘Quackity.’ He whispered underneath his breath.

Chapter Text

Cellbit stood shocked, his brain not being able to comprehend a word Charlie just said. His heart was thumping in his chest and his thoughts began to fog. He looked around him and everybody’s words were nothing but white noise, it was mainly Phil and Charlie speaking. Whatever they were saying, no matter how important it was, Cell just couldn’t bring himself to listen. 

He felt betrayed, maybe even hurt. Quackity was a close friend of his and for him to hurt someone that he considered like his younger brother felt like a deep cut piercing into his heart, he could almost feel the blood dripping from within him as if there were actually a wound. He didn’t know what to say, his mouth was left hanging dry as his mind tried to catch up to itself.

‘I don’t fucking know why he was there Phil!’ Charlie yelled, his eyes were burning through Phil’s as he spoke, ‘Why don’t you ask him?’ He spat, leaving the other speechless. Whatever was being said previously must’ve burned Phil to the core as he stood in front of Charlie, nothing but sadness and shock shining through him.

He hung his head low as he looked towards the ground, running a trembling hand down his face as he sighed deeply. He then looked up slightly towards Cellbit, who throughout all of this was zoned out, standing still as a statue with his lips agape and his eyes hinting his anger that was slowly building within him. ‘What’s next? You’re the expert here.’ He spoke more softly, the others could tell that the man’s patience was wearing thin but he didn’t dare raise his voice at Cell.

Cell snapped back to reality, his brows furrowing as he tried to think of a response. He was the expert here. How come he didn’t know what was next? He didn’t know what to say, in the end not saying anything, simply leaving Phil’s question behind him. ‘Charlie, I’m going to need you to be completely honest with me because I do not believe that Quackity of all people would’ve done this.’ He sternly spoke, his voice came out a little wobbly but he brushed it off with the reasoning of him being pissed off and not because of the fact he was on the verge of breaking down.

He watched as Charlie swallowed harshly underneath his stare, his breath quickening slightly, so slightly that it would’ve gone unnoticed by all of the others. ‘I- It was definitely Quackity man. I don’t know what else to tell you.’ He managed, trembling on his words as he looked over at Fit for some sort of protection and to no surprise the veteran was already clenching his fists ready to throw hands if Cellbit snapped. He felt a bit safer as he turned back to look at his shoes that were being brushed by the grass from the wind.

‘Great. Fucking fantastic.’ Cell smiled sarcastically as he threw his hands against his sides. ‘Please tell me you lot don’t believe this man’s bullshit.’ 

The group grew quiet for a moment, the noise of the wind becoming deafeningly loud. ‘Well he was there and you weren’t were you?’ Fit finally spoke up, his face glowed with annoyance as he talked.

Cellbit quickly turned to look at Fit, his eyes piercing holes through the other as he felt the threatening energy of the veteran radiating off of him. He then turned to Pac and Mike who were standing beside each other, they too did not look pleased with him for obvious reasons. He felt as if everyone was turning on him as he spun around to look at Missa, Phil and Foolish who were also burning holes through his back with their eyes.

‘I might as well go fuck myself then!’ He laughed hysterically, holding his arms out to his side as he spoke, nothing but disbelief filling his nerves as he kept spinning around in the middle of the circle that had somehow been created around him. ‘Fuck off.’ He spat as he pushed Fit and Phil out of the way, proceeding to walk off.

As he walked away his heart began to hurt immensely, tears threatening to fall from his eyes for the first time in a while. His techniques were not working and he was now being kicked out of his own fucking investigation. How fucking pathetic. He knew the whole detective thing wouldn’t have lasted once he actually began making valid assumptions. He had guessed that he’d just have to begin working on his own, which was the plan anyway as he usually isolated himself whenever it came to investigating.

He just had to find a way to get some hard hitting evidence for this whole spiel to work. He needed to convince the police into giving him secret information about the whole attack as he expected that they had pages and pages of hidden evidence that nobody knew about, and if he even got close to getting his hands on it then the group couldn’t deny him.

An idea had popped into his mind and it involved sneaking into the officers’ offices. It was just finding a way to get in there without being caught that was the issue, all of the officers in this prison were constantly surrounding the offices. If a prisoner was caught roaming around that area it was immediate solitary confinement and if that happened, Cellbit could kiss his detective dreams goodbye. 

Cellbit’s only option was to get into some sort of trouble in order for the officers to be called so that they were distracted for long enough in order for him to leg it to the room he needed. He just didn’t know what he should do in order to get them away from there, as he knew if he tried to get them by fighting someone like Pac again he would have a higher chance of losing as this time he had seen and overheard about the training he and Fit had been doing and he was not going to risk it.

The fact that whatever he chose to do he’d have extra time added onto his sentence wasn’t an issue as he was already in prison for life after he was caught during a cannibalistic episode. It wasn’t a pretty sight according to his sister Bagi and she felt betrayed that his previous ways had caught back up to him. But he didn’t really care about her opinion on it as it was his favourite thing to do, the adrenaline that came with it was incredibly addictive. The smell of iron as the blood of the victim would drip down his lip and along his chin was like smoking cocaine for him.

He figured that it’d be best if he didn’t get into a fight, considering that most people were too afraid to even punch him because of the fact he could snap so easily it probably wasn’t the best idea. Maybe he could trick people into thinking he was going through another episode. Yeah it would fuck with people’s minds, it would probably even cause a lockdown. But it would get him what he wanted, and the thrill that would come with it would be unmatched, it would make him feel like he’s high.

The idea excited him so much, his adrenaline was already heightening so he was sticking with that idea. In order for it to follow through he needed to find someone that would believe him if he told them he was going through an episode. The only man he could think of that was perfect for this was Phil. Phil knew what these things looked like so Cell had to make it believable, Phil had been here when one actually happened, the pure fear that lingered in him once Cellbit told him what he had done that night was exhilarating.

So the plan was set. He was going to talk to Phil later on in the afternoon, around 10pm to be exact as that was just before lights out, and he was hoping that the man would believe him and spread it around, and hopefully, tell the police officers. Then he can get to the main office in order to steal the evidence that he longed for, that would fix all of his problems.

It was cruel to trick his friends into thinking he was a threat but were they really his ‘friends’? Because currently it felt like they were just using him. So in Cellbit’s mind, it only seemed fair.

The time had hit 10pm and Cellbit was ready, he had taken some ketchup from the cafeteria during dinner and had covered his teeth in it. The taste of tomato was a horrible flavour that was now lingering in his mouth and it was kind of hard to ignore but he tried his best. He took a quick glance in the mirror, his uniform was already covered in real leftover blood from weeks ago as he liked showing it off instead of cleaning his clothes. It looked incredibly believable, he just had to act now. Acting wasn’t his best talent but he figured it wouldn’t be too difficult. 

He left his cell, immediately landing his eyes upon Phil who was having a conversation with Etoiles. They looked to be laughing together, soon that was all going to change. Cellbit smiled at the image of Phil’s face at the ‘news’, thrill slowly trickling into his body as he got himself into position. 

He hunched himself over slightly as he walked, walking quickly as if he was in a hurry. He widened his eyes, hoping that his pupils looked smaller than normal. He also made sure his hands were constantly moving, whether that was shaking or touching his face or touching Phil, he just needed to make sure he looked crazy. 

He finally made it over, it didn’t take long as he was walking quicker than usual. Phil turned to look at Cellbit, so did Etoiles. The look in Phil’s face told Cellbit that this was going to work better then he had previously planned. Phil had almost instantly clicked what’s going on.

‘Hey Etoiles, I need to have a quick conversation with Cellbit for a second.’ Phil turned to Etoiles, his words were higher pitched.

‘Of course, see you later, man.’ He said, leaving quickly to make sure he wasn’t intruding in on anything.

Phil turned his head back around to Cell, his eyes widening and his brows raising as if he was trying to speak to him without using any words. He grabbed the other by the arm and began to drag him to a corner of the cell house, Phil’s grip was tight and harsh, Cell could feel the other’s nails digging into his bare arms as he preferred to not wear his orange jacket like most people.

‘What the fuck are you up to.’ Phil began, his words were fierce and demanding, his grip stayed tight as he looked at the man in front of him sternly. The shadows gloomed over them, leaving the two out of sight and out of hearing distance.

Cellbit couldn’t help but laugh a little at the man’s reaction, showing off the ‘blood’ on his teeth so that Phil would notice. And notice he did as his brows furrowed and his eyes widened further. ‘I don’t know what you mean!’ Cell cackled as he shrugged his shoulders.

‘You know damn well what I mean, this isn’t my first fucking rodeo.’ He quickly snapped back, giving Cell’s arm a harsh tug to try and get his attention back. 

‘Well then why don’t you go snitch to everybody else like you did last time.’ Cell gritted, ‘Go and fuck everything up. You know, I have plans now! I have a plan Phil! I know who I’m going for this time.’ He smiled slyly as the sentence left his mouth, he could feel the hot breath of Phil against his face as it quickened from his words.

‘I don’t give two flying shits if it fucks up your whole ‘plan’ because I’m not letting you harm anyone.’ Phil whisper-yelled, trying to keep the conversation quiet for now. There was definitely fear lingering in the old man’s tone but he kept it back very well. As he said the word plan he made quotations with his fingers in the air, the rage in his face was incredibly prominent as he gave Cellbit a disappointed glare that burned through him like a laser.

And with that, Phil stormed off, heading straight to Fit. Cellbit smiled as he watched from afar. The pure terror and anger mixed with genuine fear that spread across Fit’s face after presumably being told about what had just happened was so amusing that Cell couldn’t help but laugh. He just had to wait until an officer was informed and then the plan could fully spring into action.

Pac was then told, then Mike, and after him was Foolish and soon the whole room knew. And that’s when Cellbit saw Phil rush over to a cop that stood at the side of the room. He watched as the officer grabbed a baton from his belt and lifted the walkie talkie that was hanging limply from his shirt’s chest pocket and spoke into it before quickly yelling for the prisoners to go into their cells. Guiding them with his hand as he moved along the room.

If Cellbit didn’t make a run for it now, the whole plan would go down the drain. So he ran as fast as his legs could take him, praying that the officer didn’t see him out of the corner of his eye. 

Luckily he was in the clear as he made it out of the room, rushing towards the office that he assumed had all the paperwork he needed. The corridors were empty, so empty that the only noise was his own footsteps echoing against the cold brick walls as his feet collided with the ground beneath him.

His stamina was slowly wearing thin and his feet hurt from how hard the concrete floor was. He couldn’t give up now though, he had to prove himself right. 

He pushed his way through some big white double doors which led him to exactly where he wanted to be. His plan had worked, everything had actually fucking worked! The big room was completely empty, every individual office stood before him, their doors were all presumably locked but luckily all Cellbit had to do was look through the windows to see which one he needed.

Eventually, after what felt like forever, he found the main office that was owned by the boss of this prison, Cucurucho. As he pressed his face up against the cold glass he could see the piles and piles of paperwork that littered his desk. He just had to find a way to get in, he wasn’t going to let a simple locked door get in the way of his whole plan.

He thought for a moment before quickly backing away from the room slightly; he began to charge at the door with his foot, running full force and successfully forcing it open after several attempts. The door swung open and smashed against the wall to the side of it, the loud crash echoed throughout the halls. It was bound to catch somebody’s attention so Cellbit had to be quick. 

He stepped into the office and speedily walked over to the tower of paperwork, searching and rummaging through each pile before finally finding a light brown evidence folder. The label that was stuck on the cover told Cellbit that this was exactly what he was looking for. He now just needed to find a way out without getting caught.

He stuffed the folder into his jumpsuit bottoms before walking out of the office and legging it down the corridors once more. lHe was hoping that the officers had given up looking for him and had found something better to do so that he could just walk back into the cell house without any problems. But he’d be quickly proven wrong.

Pac sat on his bed, tucked away in the corner, his legs crossed. His heart was racing quickly but not for the reason people may think. Cellbit was apparently in a cannibalistic episode according to Fit which is why he was trapped in his cell. Fit was stood up at the end of his bed, his back leant against the wall and his eyes narrowly staring directly at Spreen who was standing opposite him, leaning against the other wall at the end of Mike’s bed. 

The three of them had been in silence this entire time, it had felt like it had been hours but it had only been 10 minutes and Pac didn’t think he could cope with it anymore. The tension in the room was unbearable and all Pac could do was sit and wait for the first one to speak up.

Fit’s face was filled with nothing but disgust as he looked at the man in front of him, his brows were furrowed and his arms were folded against his chest. Pac knew that whatever happened was not going to be good and he was preparing himself for the worst. Knowing Fit, it’d include blood and fists.

Pac watched as Spreen sighed heavily whilst rolling his eyes, dropping his arms dramatically to his sides. ‘Are you just going to stare at me the whole time?’ He grumbled, his eyes returning back to Fit’s.

Fit lifted his head slightly, ‘Oh so you do have a voice.’ His voice was harsh and sarcasm laced each word that left his mouth. Pac could tell that Fit wanted to just knock the man out right then and there but for some reason he was willing to hear Spreen out.

‘It’s not my fault you’re still into me considering your eyes are glued onto me.’ Spreen laughed but no amusement hung on his tone.

‘Really?’ Fit huffed in pure disbelief, his eyes widening and his brows raising. He shuffled in his position, moving his arms down to his sides and subtly readjusting his feet.

‘Yes really.’ Spreen continued. 

Fit took a second to calm himself the best he could before responding, ‘You’re fucking delusional if you think I’m into you.’ 

‘Oh sorry, I forgot your little ‘friend’ was here too.’ Spreen edged further, using his fingers to create quotations over the word friend. He was successfully getting what he wanted from Fit. He wanted to rile him up, and it was unfortunately working.

Fit’s cheeks grew a slight soft pink at the insinuation, ‘Watch your fucking mouth.’ He practically spat back, gritting his teeth against each other as his fists began to clench together.

‘Why should I? You could’ve just denied it.’ Spreen’s face was sly, a hint of anger was visible but the amusement over Fit’s reaction to his words overpowered it, he couldn’t keep the evil smile off of his lips.

Fit didn’t respond, his heart felt like it was trying to claw its way out of his throat, he didn’t want Pac to think that he just considered him a friend but he didn’t know what Pac actually was to him. He didn’t really fully understand it and being put into a position where he had to decide all of a sudden was overwhelming. He was used to hiding his emotions so he didn’t understand why it was so difficult to hide them now. The one time he needed them gone.

‘You’ve gone quiet now. Cat got your tongue?’ Spreen laughed at his own joke as he got up from the wall and slowly walked over to Fit. He was now up in his face, Fit could feel the hot breath of Spreen’s on his cheeks.

Fit’s expression still hinted rage but his eyes glimmered with anxiety. Spreen took his hand and placed it onto the other’s chest where his heart would be, ‘Seems like I’m right.’ He scoffed before removing it.

Fit looked away from Spreen and took a glance over at Pac who was looking back at him with confusion and disbelief, the Brazilian’s cheeks were a gentle rose and there was a glimmer of glee in his eyes.

‘You don’t know who you're messing with here.’ Fit returned back to Spreen.

‘Oh I do know who I'm messing with. And they aren't as brave as they say they are.’ He taunted back, his pupils were burning Fit’s as he tried to back himself up further against the wall. He kept his fierce look but deep down he knew Spreen was right.

Spreen laughed to himself once more before turning around to go back to where he previously was standing when a hand slapped him across the face. It was a forceful and hard-hitting slap that caused him to yell in sudden pain and hold his face as his cheek pulsated underneath his palm. He looked up only to see Pac stood in front of him, the Brazilian’s face was full of anger as he held his stance.

‘You fucking bitch!’ Spreen yelled, his heart was hammering in his chest with fear as he was now cornered by two men who hated his guts, one on either side. But he didn’t show it, instead trying his best to keep his high ground as he took the hand from his cheek and punched Pac in the face. 

It was a clumsy and pathetic punch which meant that Pac could recover quickly as he threw one right back at him, his fist hitting the other’s nose. Blood began to stream down Spreen’s skin, his eyes were full of horror as it quickly dripped down his clothes and onto the concrete floor underneath him. 

Pac was so furious, he couldn’t hold back his anger anymore so he threw one more punch, hitting the man straight in the stomach. Spreen collapsed onto the floor, knelt on his knees as he held his stomach tightly. He grunted in pain as he knelt in the pool of his own blood, one arm hugging his torso and another holding his nose. The blood was travelling down his fingers and his palm, his fingernails were painted red as it began to travel underneath them.

‘What the fuck!’ He screamed, looking up at Pac who was breathing heavily, holding his fist in his free hand as it began to bruise. The Brazilian’s knuckles were smothered in Spreen’s blood as he stood over him. 

Fit was just standing there watching, admiring Pac’s technique and strength. He could feel his face heat up as the other looked over Spreen and towards him. He tried to bite the inside of his cheeks to make it less obvious but it only made it more clear. He turned his focus back to Spreen on the floor and laughed to himself as he watched the cocky bastard hiss in agony. ‘I did warn you.’ Fit taunted, taking a clump of the man’s curly black hair and pulling it towards him causing the other’s neck to bend in an awkward position in order to look at the Veteran.

‘Go find another fucking cell, I could careless if you got eaten.’ Fit spat as he gave Spreen’s hair one last harsh tug before letting go and allowing him to move. Spreen took that as his sign to leave, quickly getting to his feet and hurrying out the cell. Pac walked over and re-locked the door, making sure it was secure by giving it a slight shake.

Pac then turned back around, his eyes landing on Fit who was smiling back at him. ‘You know, that was pretty impressive.’ Fit began, walking over and taking a seat on the edge of Pac’s bed.

‘I learnt a bit of fighting from when I was robbing stores and cars.’ Pac admitted, walking over and taking a seat beside the American. ‘but it’s just simple stuff, nothing too fancy.’ He looked down at his lap, fiddling with a stray piece of string that was coming off of his jumpsuit bottoms.

Fit placed his hands behind him and leant back, putting his weight on his arms. ‘You put yourself down too much Pac.’ He admitted, his eyes watching Pac as the other smiled softly.

‘That’s what Mike used to say to me before everything happened and we ended up here.’ Pac responded, he didn’t expect to be opening up in this situation but he didn’t mind it.

It fell silent for a moment before Fit spoke again, ‘About the thing Spreen said earlier… I-‘

‘Look, it’s okay. I understand,’ Pac turned his head to look at Fit fully, his heart was thumping hard in his chest as he looked into the other’s eyes. There was definitely a connection between them but Pac didn’t know whether he wanted to acknowledge it or not, ‘We can just forget about it, I don’t really know how I feel at the moment.’ Pac reluctantly replied. He did know how he felt, he loved Fit, not in a friend way but in a lovers way. But he was too afraid to tell the truth as he knew Fit’s background. You were slain if you were ratted out as being a homosexual in 2b2t, so Pac just expected to be shut down. He didn’t want to ruin their friendship.

Fit swallowed ruffly as his cheeks grew warm once more. ‘Yeah, yes. Uh… I mean yeah of course!’ He stuttered. He felt a bit hurt but he also didn’t know his feelings either. It was a weird situation.

‘Has Cellbit ever done this before?’ Pac asked, trying to change the subject as he looked away back down to the stray string from before.

‘Yes, it was gory and gruesome. Lucky the victim only lost a finger but I don’t know how deep he is in his need for blood now.’ Fit answered, ‘He once told me and Phil that it grows more and more on him as he gets older.’

‘Wow, I didn’t know it was that serious.’ Pac sympathised. To be honest, this whole conversation made him even more worried about Cellbit, knowing that he was on his bad side made him think he could be the next victim.

‘The last time was 2 years ago. He doesn’t do this often, it’s like an every 2 year occurrence. And anyway, we are safe in this cell! So don’t worry too much about it.’ Fit added on. His face was full of trust and care, he wanted nothing but safety for Pac. The Brazilian smiled in return to the statement, his heart was fluttering around inside him and it was so difficult to ignore.

‘You know, you never told me the story of your arm in detail. I mean- you don’t have to, I was just curious. Forget I said anything I-’ Pac rambled before Fit placed his hand on the other’s shoulder.

‘It’s okay, I can tell you if you’d like.’ Fit smiled softly, moving his hand back behind him.

Fit was mid battle, his shield held tightly in front of him as he charged at the Rushers with his blade. He pierced a young man in the stomach, blood running down Fit’s sword as he tugged it up the man. The guy’s eyes flew open in shock, his breath taken as his face grew a terrifying white. Fit pulled the sword out and watched as he collapsed onto the floor, blood puddling underneath him. 

He smiled slyly to himself as he proceeded to behead a man charging at him from his side, his head tumbling off of his body, the leftover body twitched before also collapsing to the floor. 

His adrenaline was high and he was hungry for blood as he stabbed his way through the army. His own soldiers behind him were trying their best to protect him and keep him safe and sound but it was difficult with the amount of soldiers Rusher had managed to gather.

Fit was too in the moment to notice the sudden end crystal that had been sneakily placed next to him and he only had time to duck and cover himself with his arms before it exploded. His ears were ringing, his view whitening as he screamed in pain.

He looked down at his arm only to see it was mauled off, he could see his own bones and muscles as blood rushed from the wound. His eyes widened as he collapsed onto the floor, his mouth hanging dry as he screamed until his throat was hoarse.

‘Oh my god, that’s brutal.’ Pac sympathised, he looked at Fit with so much affection, his brows were slanted and his eyes were glistening with worry.

Fit laughed softly to himself but there wasn’t really any amusement to it. ‘Well that’s what you have to expect in the Wastelands. I’m lucky that I’m still alive.’ He admitted, he lifted his head from where he was looking at his lap in order to see Pac’s face. To his surprise, Pac was already looking back, their eyes meeting for a moment before he quickly looked back down, his cheeks growing a faint red.

‘How come you ended up in the Wastelands?’ Pac questioned. He didn’t really know how it worked as it was very difficult to get deported there considering the brutality. He knew that Mike had tried to enter there once and was immediately denied entry the second he turned up to ask. To be honest, Pac was glad Mike was denied, as he didn’t know what he’d do without his soulmate by his side. Good thing they stuck to being criminals.

Fit thought for a moment before beginning, ‘I have never met my family, I don’t even know who my parents are and frankly I couldn’t care less. The government figured it’d be easy for them if they just chucked me into 2b2t as they didn’t have to worry about trying to find me a family. I was around 15 when I was brought there.’ 

‘You have not had it easy! I thought I had it hard, you know?’ Pac responded, his heart ached as he imagined the image of little Fit trying to navigate his way through the Wastelands. No wonder why he was like how he is now, all the violence he had experienced at such a young age made sense as to why he was constantly resorting to hitting and fighting people.

‘You get used to it quickly.’ Fit replied, he had never told anybody his story unless it was Phil. It was weird how Pac could make him open up his walls so easily. He was showing his weak side and he didn’t even feel any fear.

All of a sudden, screaming could be heard from outside the cell, it sounded like a grown man struggling in the grasp of the police. Pac snapped his head towards the cell door, ‘You hear that too right?’ 

‘Yes I do.’ Fit got up from the bed and walked over to the door. His eyes grew wide in shock as he saw Cellbit screaming in Cucurucho’s face, the man’s skin was practically red with anger. ‘Can you understand what he’s saying?’ He was speaking in Portuguese and Fit didn’t understand enough of the language to be able to understand Cellbit, especially considering the speed he was yelling at.

Pac joined Fit at the door and couldn’t help but giggle a little as he began to understand what the man was screaming. ‘He’s saying that Cucurucho is a bitch and he’s calling him a lot of names.’ Pac paused for a moment as he listened further, his heart sunk as he heard the next bit.  ‘He apparently wasn’t actually in an episode he was just messing around.’ 

‘What a dickhead.’ Fit scoffed, shaking his head slowly in disappointment.

‘Sua cadela! Eu não fiz nada de errado, que porra você está falando?’ Cellbit yelled, his heart was running quickly in his chest as he begged to be let go.

He had been caught on his way back to the cell house and if he was thrown into solitary confinement they were bound to find the evidence file hidden underneath his shirt. His whole investigation would be fucked. This whole spiel would’ve been for nothing.

‘You can go, but you’re on your final warning before solitary.’ Cucurucho’s words were blunt, no emotion hung against them as the boss’s face stayed stale. It was terrifying and the weird bear type creature was the only person that Cellbit was afraid of messing around with. He was shocked once he realised what the other had said.

A big smile tugged at his lips as his brows lifted in disbelief, ‘Thank you oh my god you angel!’ He praised. The investigation was still on, everything was still in play and all he had to do was read the pages that were contained inside the brown folder. He was going to prove everyone wrong!

He quickly got out of Cucurucho’s sight and made his way to his cell, the amount of stares that he got as he walked up the stairs were staggering. He didn’t really believe how many people actually believed his stupid trick. He couldn’t help but let out a snicker or two as he caught sight of Phil and Fit’s reactions. 

Finally, he arrived at his cell. He quickly shut and locked the door behind him and began to pull out the folder from his bottoms, proceeding to take a seat on his bed as he opened it up to the first page. It was just an analysis of Tubbo’s condition. There was a photo of the stab wound, it looked to be quite deep, the skin around it was jagged and a freakish pale. The wound itself was covered with blood, there was some passion to the attack as it looked as if the knife was forced upwards once in Tubbo’s leg.

To be honest, all of the blood and muscle that could be seen was making Cellbit rather hungry and greedy for blood, he had to turn the page before his mind ran wild. He knew himself too well and if he looked at the images of the wounds for too long he would want to cause wounds himself. He licked his lips rather maniacally as he turned the page. 

Quackity’s face was printed onto the piece of paper and there were paragraphs of information beside it. Apparently Quackity had found out that Tubbo was having a relationship with one of the guards. According to the evidence, the guard’s name was Fred and Quackity was planning on harming both of them in order to keep them away from each other and to manipulate Tubbo.

It was a weird summary, most of the information that was written explained why Quackity was so mad about Fred and Tubbo. Apparently the prison wasn’t very happy with the relationship that was growing between the two either and it was labelled as dangerous and unprofessional. Quackity probably thought that Tubbo was trying to get secret information out of the guard to use against the other prisoners which is why he wanted to put an end to it

Cellbit turned to the next page and what was written on this one was even more shocking than the last page he read. Quackity wasn’t acting like himself, Cucurucho had been secretly watching him this past week and suspects that Quackity has been taken control of. They didn’t quite know who or what was controlling him but they decided to nickname the ‘new’ version of him as Elquackity.

Cellbit had to shut the folder there. He felt as if he had read something he shouldn’t have known, Charlie was right this entire time and Cell was now the one that looked like an idiot. He was going to keep the folder just in case he needed it, proceeding to tuck the folder underneath his bed sheets before collapsing onto his bed, facing the ceiling as he really tried to understand what he had just read. 

He was hungrier than ever, not just for normal food either. He was scared as to what he might do if he let the hunger take over him so he decided to turn to his side and close his eyes. Praying and hoping that when he woke up the next day he would be fine, that this whole blood lust thing that was filling his mind would disappear.

Sleep slowly took over him once his eyes were shut. The prison was awfully quiet which only made his thoughts louder but he tried his best to ignore them. And soon enough, he was fast asleep, snoring gently with his head resting against the pillow underneath him

Chapter Text

Cellbit had woken up in a cold sweat, his breath was quick and heavy as his eyes shot open. His cell was dark, the night overshadowing his surroundings as he sat up in his bed, covers only covering his lower half. His brown hair was a wreck, the thick white streak usually at the front of his hair was now mixed in with the rest as he ran a hand through it.

His mouth was dry as he swallowed ruffly, his stomach’s growl echoed across the awfully quiet prison cell. He felt terribly hungry, the painful sting in his gut becoming dreadfully uncomfortable. Although his body felt energetic, lively, his vision was fuzzy yet clear as day. As his pupils moved along the room he began to feel this horrific need for consumption. He had to get some sort of meal in him before he became manic.

His thoughts were running crazy in his mind, nothing but the image of blood and flesh spinning around in his head. He could practically taste the irony delightness that he so badly longed for, the strong smell of raw copper, the metallic odour that radiated off of fresh blood filled his nostrils until it was unbearable, overwhelming. He licked the sharp ends of his teeth, subtly biting down on his own tongue causing a slight prick against the muscle, unravelling the sweet yet little taste of his own crimson. The flavour was addicting, he was practically relishing in the adrenaline that quickly spiralled throughout his body.

He got up from his bed and began to approach his cell door, opening it as quietly as possible in order to not wake any other prisoner up. He took a step out, the cold breeze hitting him hard as he shivered against it. He felt dizzy as he began to walk across the balcony of the second floor, looking down towards the desolate ground beneath him. Although the room was quiet, Cellbit’s ears were ringing loudly, even the silence was deafening to him, his head viciously banging against his skull.

He then proceeded towards the staircase, slowly descending down the metal steps as they clanked underneath his feet. Cellbit eagerly smiled to himself as he turned and began walking across the cells one by one, peering into each barred wall to see who may be lying there sound asleep, running his rather bony fingers along the cold metal as he hummed to himself whilst walking.

It was when he came across a specific cell that he was hit with a sense of confusion. Fit was sitting up straight on his bed, staring blankly at the grey brick wall in front of him with his back lent against the wall behind him. Cell must’ve been too transfixed in his own daze to notice that Fit had snapped out of whatever he was doing and was now staring directly at him, his gaze cold and sharp. ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ Fit scowled, his voice harsh and quiet so as to not disturb anyone else. The question was one that rather not be answered but was more used to threaten. 

‘Having a nice little stroll, I could ask the same for you.’ Cell was quick to bite back. Fit could tell by the way the other’s voice landed that this was not Cellbit’s norm, yet he didn’t want to jump to conclusions for now.

‘I usually don’t sleep,’ He paused for a moment as he began to connect the dots, ‘Although it’s unlike you to walk around in the middle of the night.’ Fit was trying to hint at what he was guessing was going on in the younger’s mind without outright saying it. ‘Something different with you?’

Cellbit laughed for a moment to himself at the question, ‘No, I’m perfectly fine. In fact, I couldn’t sleep either so I chose to get some fresh air.’ He scoffed, ‘I’d rather you minded your own business.’ 

Fit rolled his eyes, he had to reluctantly come to the conclusion that this was regular old Cellbit, especially considering his vocabulary was almost identical to what it’d usually be. ‘Just don’t do something you’d regret.’ Fit warned, knowing that Cell wouldn’t take his advice but it was better to get it off of his chest before the man walked off and possibly did some fucked up shit.

‘Don’t tell me what to fucking do.’ And with that Cellbit walked away, continuing to run his fingers across the bars of the others’ cells as he resumed to his humming. His nails scratching along the metal, a disgusting screeching noise ringing in Cell’s ears.

He knew exactly who he was going for, no denying the excitement that was heaving in him. It would serve his victim right, karma at its finest. It was the perfect night for him to spring into action, the inmate’s partner in crime being in solitary confinement until the morning after trying to fight an officer. Cellbit slyly grinned as he licked his lips, his thirst for blood was becoming unbearable and incredibly strong as it took over him, he was extremely eager and he didn’t think he could wait any longer. His vision becoming a deep red as he made his way over to the cell, being quiet yet quick.

He made it to where he wanted to be, desolate from the rest and perfectly over in the corner out of the way from everyone else. He gave the door a slight tug but to his dismay it was tightly locked. He grunted in annoyance, rolling his eyes as he took one of his sharp claw-like nails and placed it into the keyhole, using it as a pick lock whilst he spun it around a few times before a click finalised his success. 

He grinned to himself as his breath became heavy with thrill, opening the door silently so as to not ruin the surprise. The other was sleeping so peacefully, curled up underneath the covers of his bed, snoring lightly. But that was all about to change as Cellbit’s eyes watched him, lingering over the side of the bed, his hot breath catching the other’s face aggressively. 

The victim began to wriggle uncomfortably in his sleep from the sudden shift in temperature, his face crinkling but surprisingly staying sound asleep. Cellbit took a deep breath through his nose, closing his eyes as he inhaled the smell of flesh, breathing heavily out through his mouth and reopening his lids. 

He had decided there had been enough waiting, taking a hand and grabbing the man’s neck to wake him. His face of thrill shifted to rage as the other’s eyes shot open. Their hands grabbing at Cellbit’s trying to pull him off, nails digging into the cannibal’s skin as his breath hitched. The inmate turned his head only to see Cellbit looking down on him, licking his teeth as he showed them off. His eyes widened, fear trickling into his gut.

‘Cell- Cellbit?’ Pac finally uttered as he struggled to breath. He had managed to loosen the cannibal’s grip a little as he gulped the air, desperately trying to get it back into his lungs. He looked back at the man with terror in his eyes, scared to death as to what he had in store.

Cellbit removed his hand, giving Pac a quick look up and down before finally deciding on where he would take his first bite. Pac could almost instantly tell what was going on, the fact that Cellbit was licking his lips excessively and eagerly grinning ear to ear with this sly look. It was everything that he had been warned about, and now, all he could do was sit and wait, knowing that trying to escape would be useless. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t worth a shot.

He pushed Cell out of the way, allowing him a little bit of room to get up off of the bed and run for the door. As he was about to make it out Cellbit grabbed his left leg swinging him to the ground, his head hitting the hard concrete floor as he was slowly dragged back in. Pac clawed at the ground with his fingers and nails, crying and wailing as he began to hyperventilate, as if that would help him crawl out of Cell’s tight grasp around his calf. Blood ran down his skin as a gash formed on his forehead from the sudden collision.

‘Don’t fucking hit me again.’ Cellbit gritted in a low grumble, looking down at Pac as he towered over him. ‘You hear me?’ He made this awful licking noise whenever he spoke, his eyes watched as the blood trickled down the other’s face.

Cellbit kneeled down to Pac’s level, the victim’s chest was heaving quickly as he closed his eyes tightly from fear, in hopes that maybe if he couldn’t see what was happening it wouldn’t hurt as much. Cell laughed to himself maniacally as he took a finger and swiped at the gash causing the other to flinch from his touch, collecting the red iron and placing it onto his tongue, licking his finger clean, savouring the coppery sweetness, the metallic texture that lingered on his tongue once finishing his first taste.

Cell then moved further down towards the other’s left leg. Pac opened his eyes for a moment before shutting them quickly after seeing a kitchen knife welded in the psycho's hand. ‘You better not fucking move.’ was the last thing that Pac heard before he felt the blade cut through his skin, the sawing momentum was jagged and unpracticed, the pain was torturous, screams muffled by Cellbit’s free hand that was placed over Pac’s mouth begged to escape across the prison but it barely made it out of Pac’s cell. 

It was so excruciating that Pac fainted, whatever happened next Pac would be unaware of. By the time he would wake up he would most likely not have a limb as Cell continued to saw through the skin, cutting the nerves and veins. Blood had already managed to pool around the two, seeping into Cellbit’s clothes as he stayed knelt down on the concrete. Whenever he moved in his position the sound of squelching from his prison uniform rang in his ears. Once he had cut through the skin all the way around his leg, he leaned in closer, taking in a big deep breath of the fresh blood and the irony flesh. 

Finally, he allowed himself to take a bite, teeth piercing into the muscle of the other’s calf, blood rushing from the wound and dripping down onto the floor. The crimson liquid filled Cellbit’s mouth as he ripped a piece off of the man’s body, teeth chewing down on the tough meat, it was chewy like steak, skin getting stuck to Cellbit’s gums. The blood was warm against his tongue, the flesh roughly travelling down his throat as he swallowed. He felt the adrenaline in his body build to an inhumane level, he was so incredibly hungry. 

Not waiting any longer as he took another bite, this one was more aimed for the other’s tendon that connected the muscle to the bone. Even though his teeth were like daggers, he found it difficult to tear this piece off, having to use his hands to hold the leg down as he wiggled his mouth, finally lodging the tendon off. It was whiter than the muscle, the only factor making it red being the blood and the slight leftover flesh staining it as he began to chew hard against it. It was incredibly tough, almost like bone. Cell’s face scrunched up in slight discomfort and impatience as he chowed down.

Finally, he was able to get it to a consistency where he was able to swallow it; it was more rigid as it cut his throat whilst slithering down. Cell reminisced on the taste as he cleaned the inside of his teeth with his tongue, making sure to get all of the leftover bits of muscle. He grinned as he took the knife from the floor beside him and licked along the cold blade, cutting the edge of his gum painfully, devouring all of the delicious blood. 

He placed the knife to the visible bone by Pac’s thigh, aligning it to the perfect position before pressing down hard against the white marrow. He wanted the leg off of Pac’s body before continuing, making it easier for him to get to the flesh that he so desperately wanted without having to physically move the other around. 

Pac was practically knocked out clean, whether dead or alive Cellbit did not know, but unfortunately that was not his priority right now. He was using all of his strength to cut the bone, the cracking sounds only motivating him further as he continued. His arms were hurting but the need for blood was too overpowering to stop.

A piece of the bone cracked off, the sharp edges landing directly onto Cellbit’s thigh, piercing straight through his trousers and skin as if it was paper and lodging itself into him. Cell yelled in agony from the sudden throbbing pain that quickly travelled up his nerves. But he kept going, taking only a moment to pull the piece out of him, blood running down his leg as he got the bone loose, throwing it to the side and scrunching his face in annoyance as he held the wound with one hand and returned to Pac.

After sawing the knife for a bit longer the bone eventually broke apart, Pac’s limp left leg falling to the ground, separating from the rest of his body. It was a gruesome sight, blood all over the floor and all over Cellbit and Pac, Cell’s teeth stained a harrowing red, bits of bone and marrow shattered on the concrete like glass, a bloody knife thrown off to the side. Pac’s leg looked like layers of lasagna, every single inside aspect fully visible to the naked eye, something that no one should ever see.

Cellbit took the leg into both of his hands and began to rip and tear at it as if it was a chicken drumstick. Devouring the skin and getting straight to the juicy meat, that was undeniably his favourite part. He was in his element, his face saying it all as he smiled this disgustingly proud grin that went from ear to ear, his eyes glistening with hunger and delight as he desperately yanked away at the flesh. 

His favourite thing to do was dig his teeth into one of the leg’s veins, bursting it open into his mouth, blood trickling onto his taste buds, dribbling down his chin as it would fill his mouth. He was so out of it, his mind foggy, not in control of his body, his brain was screaming at him to stop and that he had gone too far but his heart was telling him to keep going.

He was so gone that he hadn’t noticed that there was someone in the doorway, shaking uncontrollably with either rage, disgust or fear. It was difficult to tell. Nevertheless, the person gagged, nearly throwing up onto the floor and adding to the blood that had already managed to travel to their shoes. ‘WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?’ Fit screamed, tears travelling down his face, not caring whether he looked weak or not. 

Cellbit dropped the leg in fear, his eyes darting open as his mind brought him back to reality. He had instantly realised what he had done and he shook to no ends, his hands wobbly as he looked down at them. They were practically painted red, flesh still stuck underneath his fingernails. ‘No. No. No…’ Cellbit said under his breath as he shook his head frantically in denial and backed away, looking at Pac’s lifeless body laying on the floor. Somehow the inmate’s chest was still heaving subtly, it was very slow breathing but it was breathing nevertheless.

‘You monster!’ Fit cried, collapsing down to Pac’s side, lifting his body into his arms, carefully picking him up from his own pool of blood and carrying him out of the room. His practical corpse was dripping with crimson, his fresh wound still gushing and throbbing from the sudden loss of a limb. Pac’s bone was jaggedly cut, the edges sharp and disgusting to look at. Luckily Fit was so used to the image of someone’s insides, having lost a limb himself and having to live in such environments where it would’ve been a daily occurrence.

He set the other down on one of the cell house table’s benches, the wound already creating a puddle underneath them. Fit didn’t know what to do, not having his first aid kit on him as he had left it in his cell, but he didn’t want to leave Pac alone knowing that Cellbit would go back to eating him.

It was like a miracle as Fit looked up to see Phil leaning over the balcony, horror in his eyes as he caught sight of Pac limply lying there, head resting on Fit’s lap. He had this look of disgust and a sense of urgency as he ran down the stairs, making his way to Fit’s room before finally approaching Pac with a first aid kit. It wouldn’t help much as it was tiny, most likely needing proper medical attention. But for now, it was the best they were going to get. 

Phil was in charge of cleaning the wound, he gagged as he finally took a good look at it. It was gory, the flesh mauled to shreds, the muscle looking like raw minced beef. Fit had offered his jacket, handing it to Phil in order for him to press it hard against the wound to stop the blood from flowing as heavily as it was. 

‘I’m guessing this was Cell’s doing.’ Phil eventually spoke up, looking up from his task to meet Fit’s eyes. Tears were still peaking over the edge of the other’s pupils, his cheeks stained with dry salty water from earlier.

‘Yes. He had the whole leg off and was chewing on it like a drumstick! I’m surprised Pac’s not dead.’ Fit trembled. He hadn’t realised how much he cared for this random inmate until now. The fear of Pac being dead was so strong and all Fit wanted was for him to see a proper professional. He wanted to beat the shit out of Cellbit till his blood went cold and his face was unrecognisable. He wanted Cellbit to be the one lying unconscious on the floor, blood pooling around him. 

Phil sighed heavily as he pressed down harder against the wound. ‘We’re going to have to eventually get an officer.’

Fit hesitantly ran hand through the Brazilian’s hair, his fingers flowing through each strand, the other’s own blood staining his fingers once he stopped. ‘I know. I just don’t want to leave him here you know?’

Phil looked back up, ‘You care about him don’t you?’ It wasn’t really a question, more of a statement. Phil knew Fit too well, he knew exactly what was going on in his mind yet he also understood that he wasn’t going to get a proper confession from him. 

Fit kept looking at Pac’s face before finally meeting Phil’s eyes, ‘Is it really that obvious?’ He laughed subtly but there was no humour in it. He hadn’t realised how obvious it was to an outsider’s perspective. Everyone in this bloody prison probably knew that he cared too much for Pac and that scared him, he didn’t even care that much for himself.

‘It’s very obvious.’ Phil laughed along for a moment before removing the jacket once the blood came to a slow stop. ‘You stay here, I’m going to find someone. I won't be too long, I promise.’ And with that Phil got up and left the cell house. Fit was now left alone, an unconscious Pac lying on his lap, the sounds of chewing coming from the cell Cellbit was in. The noises were disgusting, the crunching on what Fit could only assume was the bone, the slurping of blood. It made Fit sick.

Cannibalism was somewhat normal in 2b2t, especially during the Rusher war. Yet that didn’t stop the fact that the noises made him want to gag every time. The thought of eating someone else’s body part made him want to throw up. 

He looked down at Pac, eyes closed, uniform soaked in blood, the smell of slowly rotting flesh, his hair drenched in blood, a cut sliced along the front of his forehead that Fit was praying wasn’t too deep, mouth and lips bloody and cracked, neck stained red with hand imprints. Fit couldn’t help but think that this was all his fault. If only he had heard the screams from his cell. Maybe, just maybe, he could’ve arrived in time to stop Cell from attacking Pac. 

Phil eventually came back with three officers and three medics. Fit had recognised the officers as they had been working here for a while now, Bad, Mouse and Bagi, guns clung tightly in their hands and held out in front of them as they analysed the situation once walking in. However, he did not know the medics, probably since he had never really gone to the emergency room located higher up in the prison.

Once the officers laid eyes upon Pac they immediately started yelling commands towards presumably Cellbit as they rushed into his cell where he was last seen. ‘GET UR HANDS UP!’ Mouse yelled, gun loaded and ready for firing if things got out of hand. Fit looked at Bagi who was lingering at the back of the group, her face was holding an aggressive and demanding tone but Fit noticed the subtle hint of disappointment and fear. He couldn’t imagine how difficult it was for her, knowing that her own brother was the culprit to such horrific events.

Meanwhile, the medics rushed to Pac who was still lying unconscious against Fit’s lap. ‘You’re going to have to let us take him. We can’t have him left here.’ One of the doctors spoke after trying to take Pac from Fit’s arms only for him to keep his grip tight against Pac’s body.

‘I can carry him, it’d be much easier for you guys.’ Fit offered, not giving in when another doctor shook their head at the suggestion. ‘Please.’ He begged, his feelings were so overwhelming he didn’t think he could leave Pac in someone else’s care for tonight.

‘Fine. Just please be careful. One medic will lead you there whilst the rest guard from behind.’ The male doctor reluctantly agreed, his face was covered in distrust but they all knew that Fit wouldn’t give in easily and they were better off letting him carry the victim himself.

Once given the go ahead, Fit took Pac in his arms, standing on his feet whilst holding the Brazilian in a bridal style. The other’s non existent leg hung limply over his arms, his face slowly turning quite pale showing signs that they didn’t have much time. ‘Walk quickly, he’s losing too much blood and if we’re not quick we’ll lose him.’ A female doctor said as she set the pace for Fit, legs moving in a quick sort of jog as she led from the front. Skimming through corridors, scanning ids for security doors and travelling up what felt like a million stairs before finally reaching two big double white doors.

As they swung open Fit immediately was hit with the smell of hospital food and medicine, it was a nasty smell that Fit never wanted to experience again after this, the headache he was already suffering with worsening as he was rushed into a separate section where he was then ordered to lay Pac against the hospital bed. Once put down, the other two doctors and a few more from the hospital began surrounding Pac, hooking blood supports and oxygen to him. The sight was terrifying, dozens of wires and supports connected to the Brazilian, his heart monitor showing 30 beats per minute. He was so close to death, Fit couldn’t believe he had made it.

Cellbit practically jumped out of his skin as the officers rushed into his room, leg still in his hands as he backed himself into the wall behind him, licking the blood off of his lips just to savour the taste before he was taken. He watched as Mouse gagged at the sight, Bad throwing up in the corner of the room but Bagi staying cold, her eyes never leaving Cellbit’s, words burning into him that she wasn’t allowed to say out loud.

Before Cell knew it, his arms were grabbed and he was hoisted up onto his feet, hands swung to his back and cuffs immediately being clipped onto them. No matter the amount of attempts to get out of their grasps, all of the swiping with his sharp claws, the screaming that echoed across the cell house, nothing seemed to work as he was shoved out of his cell and down into the corridors, assumably heading to solitary confinement before they decided what to do with him.

Pac was lying almost lifeless against the sheets of the hospital bed, Fit sat on the side in a separate chair as he was planning to sleep the night there. He was trusted enough by the doctors to sleep outside of his cell, and after everything he had seen, it’d be cruel to have him go back to the crime scene. 

The heart monitor beeped in Fit’s ears, it was steadier than before, at 45 beats per minute instead of 30. The doctors had attempted to clean Pac up after finally stabilising him and his leg was wrapped up in a mass amount of bandages. 

Fit rested his head against the back of his chair, Pac wasn’t waking up anytime soon so the only thing Fit could think of doing to get out of this painful reality was to sleep. Even though it was unlikely, he hoped that Pac would be conscious once he woke up, being able to see the man’s beautiful blue eyes was all that Fit could think about no matter how much he denied it. 

So he shut his eyes, sleep finally taking its toll and allowing him to escape this nightmare and enter his dreams. He could only wish for a better day tomorrow, but that would be impossible. Mike was going to go ballistic.

Chapter Text

Fit had awoken to the blaring sounds of harsh winds rustling past him and faint explosions in the distance, his blurry vision tried its best to adjust to the sudden new surroundings. Dusty mud stung his eyes once managing to open them as it flew by him, his clothes a raggedy mess as he tried to look forward. His pupils widened in fear as he noticed what was around him. He looked down at his hands, a muddy, blood covered wreck. His calloused fingers ached as he stretched them out in front of him.

But what was more alarming was his intact right hand, the skin filthy and bleeding, the overwhelming sensation of the textures that it could feel. The stretching of his muscles as he flipped his hand over frantically only to see the knuckles bruised and battered, a harsh purple contrasting his tanned skin.

He was sprawled out on the hard dirt floor, his hands shaking from anxiety as his breath began to quicken. As he tried to keep himself somewhat together he finally noticed the clothes he had on. They weren’t his usual orange prison uniform but instead his old brown shirt, a pair of blue battered-up jeans and his old green cape that was wrapped around his neck like a scarf to keep it from flying away. The ends of its fabric ripped to shreds just how he remembered it being.

He was somehow back at the start, 2b2t’s old spawn sitting right in front of his face. Luckily, as his eyes drifted over himself, he noticed his old bloodied sword strapped tightly against his waistband, dozens of pots hooked in place around his hip. They sat there staring at him almost tauntingly, eager to be used. 

After assessing his current state, Fit tried his best to ignore the thoughts screaming at him to panic, knowing that that would only lead to his demise. Instead, he pushed himself up onto his feet, stumbling back as pain spiked through his leg and into his spine causing him to hiss. Fit pushed through the pain as he eventually stood, his body aching and his heart thumping hard inside his chest begging to be heard.

He was so lost, confused as to how he was here once more. Where was Phil? Where was Pac? Where was anybody? This didn’t make any sense.

“FIT!!!” A voice yelled from behind him, but before he could turn to see who it was, Fit's breath was caught, his eyes widening in pure pain as he looked down at the end of a sword piercing through the front of his stomach. “Glad to finally meet you in person.”

Fit knew that voice from anywhere. He tried to turn his head, eyes landing on Rusher, his sly smile haunting him as the sword pulled out from behind him. Fit’s breathing was manic, hands quivering and struggling in agony to reach for the now open wound as his face quickly began to pale. 

He watched as the other licked the edge of the blade, reminding him of how Cellbit treated Pac. He grimaced at the thought, his mouth lifting into a filthy snarl as he tried his best to keep his eyes open in order to stare daggers at the man before him. “I think we both knew that I was going to come out victorious in the end.” He snickered as he watched Fit collapse to the ground. Blood oozed from his wound as he managed to hold it tightly. Coughing up his own blood as his breath hitched in pain. 

“Is that brave, unstoppable Fit dying?” He cackled, throwing his head back in pure amusement. “How pathetic. I thought you were supposed to be strong.”

“FIT! FIT!” But the voice was still there. Fit was looking directly at Rusher yet Rusher’s mouth wasn’t moving. In fact, he had no reaction to the screams at all. Fit slowly bled out on the ground, his hands and clothes covered in his own crimson.

“FIT! WAKE UP!”

Fit’s eyes daughted open, immediately landing on Mike who was standing in front of him, hands on either shoulder and shaking Fit’s body frantically. Once noticing that the other was awake a sense of relief seemed to wash over him. He took his hands off of the other hesitantly. However, Mike’s eyes stayed wide in what Fit could only assume was fear. Fit was a wreck, his chest rising and falling unevenly, his body trembling and his face pale with dread.

Mike watched as Fit quickly looked down at his stomach where his hands were holding it tightly, only to find that there was nothing there. Ease began to wash over him as he finally took a look around, surprisingly happy to see the daunting white walls of the prison’s hospital ward once more.

He looked over at the bed to see that Pac had his eyes open, although he didn’t seem like himself. “He’s only been awake for an hour, he won’t say a word.” Mike admitted, as if he could read the expression etched on the other’s face. He shared a glance over at the Brazilian. “I’m going to kill that son of a bitch.”

Fit watched as the pinkette gritted his teeth and his lips twitched into a nasty snarl. He couldn’t even imagine how he was feeling. Knowing that he was completely helpless that night stuck in solitary confinement. It must’ve been hurting him earnestly, eating him alive from the inside out. 

Fit broke the daunting silence as he watched over Pac’s subtle movements, “He’s bound to be traumatised as fuck. I’m surprised he even survived after what I saw.” 

He was grateful to see the rise and fall of Pac’s chest.

He’s alive.

Pac’s alive.

“His leg is mauled to pieces, nothing was able to be salvaged.” Mike’s eyes began to tear up. All the emotions that the man had been holding in and hiding away up until now seemed to have come flowing out. All the anger, all the rage and hatred seeping through his strongly built walls for Fit to see. It was like a dam had been broken, spewing its contents uncontrollably. Mike seemed frantic, strong hands grabbing the Veteran’s shoulders once more, shaking them vigorously and squeezing tightly as if Fit would fall out of his grasp too.

“Help him please. You’re the only person who’s strong enough to protect him. I was sitting in my cell completely oblivious to what was happening, I was nothing but useless.” He paused for a moment, wiping the tears from his wet cheeks with the back of his hand before continuing. “He’s going to have to get a robotic leg, learn how to survive with it, learn how to live again.” He finished a little more calmly, his head sinking down as he tried his hardest to relax. His hands slid from where they were holding Fit’s shoulders, eventually slumping to his sides.

“Help us.” He whispered underneath his breath as if he was scared to admit his vulnerability, but no matter how quiet the words were his pleading tone nevertheless hit Fit’s heart with an alarming force. He didn’t know what to say.

Mike was begging for help, he was practically on his knees at this point. How does someone even respond to that? Fit wasn’t used to helping anyone let alone someone like Mike, someone who held themselves so high and had so much pride within them.

So seeing him like this, begging for attention, begging for help, begging for his normal life back and his old friend back hit Fit in a way he thought wasn’t possible. He was silent for a while, his words sort of caught in the air, not being able to hinder a coherent sentence. Mike looked back at him with pleading eyes, tears threatening to pour down his face once more but he kept it in as best as he could. His body trembled, his lip quivering as he anticipated an answer, nothing but fear running free throughout his body.

Fit opened his mouth to say something but nothing managed to make its way out. It was like his words were stuck at the back of his throat, an invisible wall stopping them from escaping. He looked back over at Pac who was now sat up in his bed, his mouth sealed shut, his eyes dazily open and his body moving slowly as he got himself comfortable. His black hair was a mess, bed head getting the better of him. His eyes were drooped looking as if he was high, bags hanging underneath them heavily weighing down his face. Yet he still looked beautiful as ever, causing the Veteran’s stomach to feel weird, even though Fit tried to shove that unknown emotion down to the pits of his stomach.

“I can try my best.” Fit spoke under his breath. Mike let out a huff of air that he didn’t know he was holding, his body relaxed a little more as a surprisingly hefty amount of weight lifted off of his shoulders. “But I can’t promise that it's going to be easy.”

Mike nodded, completely understanding that this wasn’t going to be a quick process, that this was going to be a massive work in progress, a journey that neither the two of them knew they were going to have to take.

Mike had never seen anything like it, never seen anyone so insane. When he was informed about the whole situation he practically collapsed in his holding cell, screaming at every officer nearby to let him out, to let Cellbit feel his wrath and to make him never forget the morbid things he did to Pac. This had all gone too far and Pac was the one to pay for it. Nobody deserved any of this and all Mike wanted to do was absolutely lose his shit and beat the living hell out of Cellbit. But that couldn’t happen right now. The only thing that mattered was Pac. It didn’t matter if he was filled with so much rage and hatred that was begging to be let out. Mike knew that he wasn’t the one that needed help right now, the attention didn’t need to be on him.

He felt like his mind was running a mile a minute. He didn’t exactly know what to feel, emotions not really being his thing. But when he looked at Pac’s empty expression staring into nothingness it felt like his whole world was quickly collapsing in front of his very eyes and all he could do was gather the pieces and cradle them in his arms. His whole point of living was now staring blindly practically lifeless. After everything they’ve been through this couldn’t be how it ended, they had to get through this, they had to show everyone who’s boss, who’s resilient, who can bring themselves back up no matter what.

Mike backed himself away from Fit and began to approach Pac cautiously. Even though he had been in the room for a while overlooking the Brazilian whilst Fit slept, he hadn’t yet stepped any closer than the chair next to the hospital bed out of fear. He had no idea what his other half was thinking which created a tense and dangerous atmosphere. Mike had seen what Pac was capable of when out of his mind, lost in a distorted deception of reality. His pupils would dilate almost unnoticeably from an outsider's perspective, he would look into what seemed to be nothing to anyone else but to Pac it would be everything, as if the whole world was crashing down on him.

Everytime the first playing of it finished before him it would rewind relentlessly, never ending. He couldn’t get it to stop. The knife plunging into his leg, sawing it to pieces in a matter of seconds. His life and dreams ruined. Everything he’d ever dreamed of doing now left in large shards of glass stabbed into his hands, blood dripping down his skin as Cellbit held the hammer that smashed it.

What topped the whole cake off was the playing of his stabbing to his arm from many years ago, an event he thought he’d forgotten and recovered from now making a grand return. He was trapped. Trapped in his own mind with no way out. And it was quickly becoming unbearable, unavoidable, driving him insane as he watched everything in great detail. All the words, the fucking sick and twisted words that spewed out of Cell’s mouth that night echoing in his head as if he hadn’t already had enough on his plate.

Mike took a deep breath as he stood at the edge of the bed, overlooking Pac as he watched his pupils constrict and his body stare off into nothingness.. His eyes watered, tears silently falling down his pale, lifeless cheeks. Mike lifted a hesitant hand, landing on Pac’s shaky shoulder almost instantly causing the man’s body to jolt.

It startled Mike as he immediately retracted the touch as quickly as it arrived, backing away slowly to give the inmate some space. Mike could only watch in horror as Pac’s chest began to heave heavily as he trembled, his head shook uncontrollably as if answering no over and over again to a non-existent question. His lower lip quivered as his mouth opened to say something but nothing other than a wobbly breath and a hoarse croak escaped.

The two began to witness Pac hyperventilating, jumping away from Mike’s touch immediately after realizing it was there. His body was weak and fragile yet so alert and defensive when it came to any sort of contact. It scared Mike. He’d never seen this side of Pac before and that scared the living shit out of him even if he was too stubborn to admit it. He felt helpless as his body froze in fear, afraid of causing anymore harm to Pac unintentionally.

Fit stood from where he was sitting and grabbed Mike’s shoulders from behind in order to drag him away. The frozen man didn’t resist like he usually did as he allowed Fit to move him quickly. He watched as the Veteran swung the door of the hospital room open and that’s when Mike finally got some sort of control back to his body. “Fit…Wha- wh-” Mike stuttered as tears started to puddle underneath his eyes threatening to spill. However, Fit did nothing but tighten his hold on the man’s shoulders as he felt Mike pull against his hold to get back to Pac. Fit’s fingers dug into the other's jacket and skin unconsciously, sliding his hands down to other’s arms for an easier pull and grip.

The Veteran had instantly noticed what was going on and had to act fast, not having time to let Mike question him or try and talk him out of leaving. Pac was dissociating. Fit could only assume that he wasn’t in control of his body and that was dangerous in this certain situation. He had clocked that something was off when Pac wasn’t responding to any of the conversations floating around the room, not even a single twitch. So knowing this, and having personal experience with something like this, Fit had come to a firm conclusion and needed to leave immediately before Pac associated the two with people they weren’t. 

Whenever Fit suffered from a PTSD episode just like the one before him, if not worse, his brain managed to morph the people around him into faces that weren’t theirs. This only ever ended badly, normally resulting in Fit attacking his comrades in the Wastelands before realising it was only his imagination. The amount of fear from even just the hallucinations of the faces he despised, dreaded, caused him to hit the living shit out of them until they were dead. Until their bodies went slack and lifeless underneath him. Cold to the touch. Blood on his hands. 

Knowing this, and not having a proper understanding on how Pac reacts to people he heavily fears, Fit could only do the safest thing that came to fruition. ‘Fit…I- I can’t just- just leave him here!’ Mike’s gut wrenching screams and pleas for help only made this harder. The only option being to ignore it.

Fit took no attention to the wailing Mike did and turned his head to take a look on how much time they had before things got out of hand, and to his dismay Pac only seemed worse. The man had somehow managed to back himself into the corner of the room, at some point leaving and crawling out his bed without Fit even realising it. Now that Pac’s full body was in view, the Veteran was finally able to get a good look at his leg injury. The stump of what was left over ended around his mid thigh, covered head to toe in bandages to encompass the injury in order to stop as much bleeding as possible. Realistically, Pac shouldn’t be moving this much at all. With a wound like that he could risk opening up all the stitches that held him together.

Fit’s eyes moved to the floor in which Pac crawled across to get where he was now, the bed was shifted to the side as it was set on wheels and the floor was stained a faint red from the bloody bandages wrapped around Tazer’s stump. The man was shaking uncontrollably. The sight was horrifying to watch but after what Fit had witnessed earlier in the week it couldn’t get much worse. 

As Fit’s line of sight travelled up the other’s fragile and, quite frankly, bony body, his attention caught on the hiss of pain the other seemed to release. His hands, shaking nevertheless, clasping around his stomach squeezing against it vigorously in what looked to be a poor attempt at shifting the pain from his thigh. The pain must’ve been excruciating considering Pac wasn’t meant to even get out of bed for another week or so. However, Pac’s attention was sharp and his stare was consistent on Fit and Mike, nothing but fear and murderous intent flicking in his irises.

This was Fit’s cue to leave and call a doctor, not wanting to be harmed by the man let alone because it was Pac. Although he had to admit that it hurt to leave the other there helplessly suffering from his amputation and his hallucinations, but there was no other option. Mike knew this too, he wasn’t stupid. But he didn’t want to admit the truth, allowing his emotions to take over his tactical thinking. Swiping at the Veteran’s hands and wriggling in his grasp as he was finally dragged out of the room, the door swinging shut behind them.

Once out, Fit finally let out a harsh breath that he didn’t know he was holding, taking a look at Mike who had slumped himself against a wall clawing at his hair aimlessly. “Mike, there was no other option.” Fit sighed as he ran a hand roughly down his face, closing his eyes and reopening them in order to stare narrowly at Craft. “I thought you of all people would’ve known that.”

Mike scoffed as he straightened up subtly at the remark, “Oh cut me some slack you psycho.” He stared back with an equal amount of irritation and tension. Crossing his arms over his chest as he dug his nails into his jacket, “You know damn well why I was so reliant on staying in there.” He scoffed as Fit clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes at the comment.

“Please, enlighten me on how good of an idea that would’ve been. I’m dying to know Mike.” The sarcasm dripped off of every word as Fit huffed in amusement at the idea.

“Sorry that I actually have human qualities Fit. Not everyone is as emotionless and uncaring as you.” Mike gritted, almost growling his words out at the other man across from him. He seemed to have cracked. Everything that had been building within him, after watching his best friend break down in front of his very eyes, not being able to do anything. It was all finally getting the better of him.

He was drunk in anger and fear, yet the fear that filled his heightened adrenaline was hidden quite skillfully as he glared at Fit with narrow eyes. The other looked away, resting his hands on his hips as he leaned his back against the wall behind him opposite Mike. “You’re not thinking properly.” Fit finally replied, more calmly than last time, however the annoyance was still there, just more controlled. “If I were you I’d stop talking before I said something I didn’t mean.”

That sealed Mike up real quick. His mouth opened to get in the last remark but quickly snapped shut at the other’s comment realising he had already done just that. Craft’s eyes immediately shifted to the ground as he scuffed his shoe roughly across the hospital floor. He had hurt Fit without even realising it. And even though the other made it almost unnoticeable that the comment even affected him, Mike could easily see through the strong facade that Fit was desperately trying to cling onto. Pac and him always had a tendency to do exactly what Fit was choosing to do now, so seeing through the lies and fabricated truth of the Veteran’s true emotions wasn’t a too difficult task to achieve.

“Sorry.” He mumbled under his breath. The words sounded weak even to his own ears but he hoped Fit accepted it nevertheless. After all, he didn’t want to get on Fit’s bad side. Especially not now. ‘Right time, right place, Mike. God fucking damn it.’ Mike cursed to himself.

They stood in the hallway as silence fell upon them. Normally Fit could deal with silence but this was uncomfortable. The tension lingering in the air was thick, almost making it difficult for Fit to breath as he rested his head against the wall. The unspoken question floating around in the space between the men. Whether Pac was alright or not. Whether they should go get someone to help them.

The two were definitely not the most trustworthy prisoners in this god forsaken hell hole, so the question of whether informing someone would make things worse? They wouldn’t know the answer unless they gave it a shot. Reluctantly, Fit didn’t want to show any sign of uncomfortability. Didn’t want to let Mike get the better of him if he showed signs of weakness or fear. As selfish as it sounds, Fit didn’t really care at this point. The two had been through too much on their own terms to put everything aside for a moment. The wall Fit had built up for years upon years wasn’t going to come crashing down just for some low level brat underneath his shoe.

I mean sure, the two had been getting along recently, the prison was a small place and not communicating and doing things together was a bit difficult to avoid. And with Pac in the picture, they couldn’t not try and attempt to become good friends or even associates. But no matter how hard Fit tried he never seemed to get rid of the gross taste Mike gave him when around. He truly had been trying to get along, trying to put up with him. Even going as far as faking the whole friend thing. But behind all of it he truly despised the man. 

There was just something about him that made Fit’s rage simmer deep down in his gut. Something that made him trust the Brazilian less and less with each passing second and it annoyed Fit to his core that he just couldn’t figure out what that something was. Maybe it was the way he held himself? Maybe it was the way he treated Pac as some weak fragile piece of pottery? Or perhaps the cocky personality of his that made Fit want to punch him square in the face?

Honestly, Fit had given up trying to figure out what it was about Mike that made him so fucking angry a while ago. The other didn’t deserve that much thought to begin with. But if Fit wanted to get closer to Pac he had to act all goody with his best friend, assuming that if he even showed a glimpse of dislike in front of the other Pac would drop him in the blink of an eye, no questions asked.

Despite this however, Fit simply lifted himself from where he was leaning all his body weight against and let his feet walk him away towards the closest doctor in the proximity. He didn’t say a word, didn’t even as much as give a second look behind him, not a single sign of acknowledgement to the other man who was previously staring daggers at him from across the tension thick space between them.

It didn’t take long before Fit found what he was looking for. A Doctor standing at roughly the same height as him swiftly turned around on his feet at the sudden shift in the air. Fit stood carelessly in front of him as he watched the man’s facial features shift from confusion into subtle fear, nerves seeming to hit the guy as soon as he realised who he was looking at. Although, Fit had to admit the other hid the progressively heightening fear pretty well as professionalism flashed across the Doctor’s pale skin.

Fit had quickly become used to the looks people sent him from afar. Or the glares he’d get from people that thought they were above him in all aspects. The fact they even imagined that made Fit crack up. He was used to the feared stares from the ones that knew him, the ones that knew their place beneath him. As disgusting as it was to admit, Fit couldn’t help but love the pure terror in other’s faces when speaking to him or simply seeing him in front of them. So seeing the Doctor now, physically shaking at the sight of him stroked his ego to an unhealthy level.

“Are you just going to stand there staring?” Fit bitterly asked.

“Ah! Sorry, I don’t know what came over me there.” The Doctor laughed nervously as he briefly coughed into his tightly closed fist before continuing, “How may I help you?”

Fit tried his best to not make fun of the way the Doctor was stumbling over himself because of Fit’s overall presence. “Pac isn’t doing too well. Me and Mike found him freaking the fuck out.”

The Doctor looked down at his clipboard held in his right hand before looking back up to meet Fit once more. He sighed before rubbing the bridge of his nose from underneath his rectangular glasses. “This was expected unfortunately.”

Fit gritted his teeth as he gaze shifted to pure anger, “The fuck do you mean expected? So you guys just sent me and Mike in there whilst knowing that Pac would freak out on us?”

“Listen, that wasn’t our-“

“Wasn’t our intention my ass! What kind of fucked up head do you have up there?”

“I’m going to need you to calm down Sir.”

“Calm down?” Fit laughed sarcastically as he tapped his foot against the floor, he had officially lost his temper. “I’m gonna need you to go fix the problem you willingly created before I beat the shit out of you.”

Fit watched as the Doctor laughed nervously before tucking his clipboard underneath his arm. He then scurried off down the hallway towards Pac’s hospital room without taking a single look back.

Fit smirked smugly as he headed out of the hospital, having to walk down the bright white hallways always gave him a headache and he couldn’t wait to leave. The hospital inside the prison was located on the very top floor of the main building. It wasn’t huge but it wasn’t your average medic room you find in a school. The facility was quite modern compared to the rest of the prison and Fit had noticed over the years that the government had made sure to hire the highest trained medics and doctors. 

He supposed that was important when it came to manic and practically insane prisoners such as Cellbit or even himself. The hospital consisted of around twenty different patient rooms, the one Pac was in was located at the far end of the whole facility meaning Fit had to walk through five different corridors in order to get himself out. Each corridor contained four rooms, two on either side, and the further you go down the hospital the more severe the patients get. 

For example, Tubbo had been located around the middle of the hospital, considering his injuries weren’t as severe as people like Pac’s. The only aspect that kept him in the hospital for so long was his coma, which he managed to wake up from only two days prior. After each corridor there was a small open area which had a main middle desk that was structured like a circle. The large curved desks were always stuffed with paper work, computers and different prescriptions waiting to be sorted and handed out to prisoners. 

There were around four doctors for each section, meaning each room had a specific doctor specialised to work with that one patient. The doctor that Fit had spoken to wasn’t assigned Pac specifically but urgent times caused for urgent measures. Fit looked back and caught a glimpse of four or five doctors rushing to calm the situation in Pac’s room, also catching a glimpse of Mike making his way over to the seats aligned along the walls throughout some of the corridors. 

Mike’s face was pale, his cheeks a hint of green as his hands shook from where they were planted underneath his thighs. His right foot bounced against the floor and his mouth stretched into a nervous sort of grimace, his eyes blown wide with fear from behind his glasses. Fit subtly sneered before finally arriving at the main doors.

Dinner had arrived, the usual slop that couldn’t even be considered food was being served at the cafeteria. Today it seemed to be some sort of ham sandwich, the white bread looked dry and the butter to ham ratio was disgustingly off. On the side was a simple apple and as Fit looked ahead of himself dessert didn’t look to be any nicer. 

As he picked the options and placed them onto his metal tray, he also decided to get himself a drink to quench his dying thirst. Ever since he saw Pac earlier that day he couldn’t bring himself to eat or drink so now that he was in front of food, and what seemed to be a lousy excuse for apple juice, he couldn’t help himself, the rumble in his stomach making even standing unbearable.

He sat himself down in his usual spot, the table seeming livelier today but that was probably because of Tubbo. Everyone had missed the young man and his ability to brighten the mood so once he was finally released the group seemed to ease up a little.

Of course Phil found a time to let Tubbo know what had happened whilst he was in his long slumber, but the reaction the young man gave was something that Phil had never seen before. The boy’s face instantly dropped, his hazel eyes dimming yet still managing to contrast strongly with his pale face. He was quiet, simply saying “okay” before turning and walking away. He spent his first day back mostly in his cell, processing what he had been told.

It was nice to finally have him back now. However, Fit could tell he wasn’t fully there, but nevertheless he was still putting in the effort to appear normal to help calm the tension in the atmosphere. He was proud of him for managing to do that because if that was Fit he wouldn’t have even tried.

“So…” Phil’s voice made its way over to Fit as the Veteran took a bite out of his apple, “How’s Pac holding up?”

“Not so good.” Fit mumbled, still mid chew as he kept his sight on the tray in front of him.

The table had managed to quieten down at the mention of Pac’s condition, everybody’s conversations dying out as they tried to listen in on what was being said. Phil sighed as he took a big sip of his water, swallowing it down before continuing, “I assumed as much. Poor boy has only been here a month and a half and has already been through more than most of us.”

Fit stopped mid bite, lowering the apple slightly as his mouth twisted in distaste. Suddenly, he’d lost his appetite. He didn’t respond. Guilt washing over him as he didn’t move from his position, the half eaten apple still mid air in his left hand.

“It’s not your fault”

The words pulled Fit right back into reality, looking up to see Phil reaching out his hand in order to lower Fit’s arm which held the green apple. His face said it all, it was as if Phil could read Fit inside and out. Every thought that was trapped in Fit’s mind had somehow managed to travel to Phil’s too.

Fit took a second to process where he was as he felt his emotions get the better of him. His eyes looked around him before he lowered his head once more. He couldn’t just break down in front of the whole cafeteria, that would be ridiculous. He swallowed down the lump that had been quickly building up in his throat.

“I know tha-”

“Do you?”

Fit’s head shot up, his eyes wide. He could feel the stares all around him, as if they were closing in on him, cornering him into a pit with no escape. However, Phil looked nothing but concerned, his mouth set in a hard line. Fit’s jaw clenched with dread. The sudden acknowledgement of his feelings and thoughts were washing over him as quickly as a tsunami crashing into an unknowing city.

“I don’t know anymore.” Fit muttered under his breath, hands tightening as sweat began to build beneath his fingers tips from where he was gripping the edge of his metal tray, as if it was going to help him stay grounded.

Phil hummed in acknowledgement as he forced a half smile, “Why don’t we talk about this in a quieter area?”

Fit’s watery eyes searched Phil’s, wild and desperate. As if trying to communicate his quickly increasing breakdown. But Phil only softly smiled, eyes gentle and the touch on his wrist still there as delicate as ever. “How does that sound?” Phil asked, his voice had taken a more soft tone as he noticed the panic and fear lingering beneath Fit’s skin. 

“Sounds…nice.” Fit whispered.

“Then let’s go.” Phil smiled sweetly as he let go of Fit’s wrist and stood from the table. “Sorry guys, we’ll see you all in a bit?”

“Of course man. Don’t worry about it!” Foolish chimed as Tubbo next to him nodded eagerly as if he was going to bounce out of his seat. Charlie smiled their way and Missa nodded in acknowledgement as he took a bite out of his ham sandwich. Mike hadn’t come out of the hospital all day, his absence only now clocking in Fit’s head as he rose from his seat.

As the two left the room the conversation managed to pick up again, however there was this heavy tension lingering thick in the air. Even Tubbo seemed to notice as he died down a bit with his enthusiasm. “I’ve never seen him like that.” Foolish mumbled as he chewed on his sandwich.

The table turned towards him, Charlie nodded in agreement, “Same, honestly I thought Phil was joking when he told us that Fit was struggling.” He took a sip of his orange juice before continuing, “I mean, he never even shows signs of having feelings let alone allowing the whole table to see it first hand.”

“Did you see how Pac looked that night?” Tubbo mumbled as he chewed against the ham in his sandwich before swallowing, he had managed to separate the stale bread from the somewhat edible meat.

“Did you?” Charlie questioned, an eyebrow raised as he gazed over at Tubbo who was in the process of chucking a new piece of pink meat into his mouth. 

“Nah, but Phil told me what happened yesterday. Sounded badddd.” He muffled as he licked the corner of his lips where a stray piece of butter still lingered.

Missa laughed subtly but no humour clung onto it, “I think bad is an understatement. That night I heard all the commotion from my cell and managed to get a glimpse of Pac’s leg.” He paused for a moment as his face twisted into a sort of grimace, “It was fucking horrific.”

“I can’t imagine how guilty Fit must be feeling.” Foolish started, “I overheard that he was awake during it that night.” He had now finished his sandwich and had moved onto the apple.

Tubbo nearly choked on his third slice of ham, “How the fuck did he not hear it? That’s mad.” He returned to his tray once more, grabbing the last little string of meat and chucking it into his mouth as if it was a basketball going into a hoop.

The table grew silent for a moment, everyone not knowing what to say in response. Charlie was the first to speak up, “Phil told me that he might’ve been in some sort of dissociation thing. That’s what Fit told him at least.”

Missa hummed in response, “Makes sense with the whole 2b2t thing I suppose.” He sipped his water slowly, trying to savour it as it was rare to get water throughout the day.

“Man, some people are in here for some crazy ass crimes. I wish my sentence was cool.” Tubbo pouted.

“Didn’t you literally blow up a literal town?” Charlie stated, sipping his water subtly as he watched Tubbo gasp in offence, clutching his heart as if the words stung him.

“Yeah, but it was an accident I swear!” Tubbo leaned over the table to Charlie as his eyes pleaded for sympathy. “I was playing around with random shit in my factory and it all exploded.” He laughed nervously as he watched Charlie simply stare at him. 

Tubbo slowly leaned back, lowering himself back into his seat as he took the stale white bread and tore a piece off with his teeth. “You’re acting as if you’re not already proven guilty.” Charlie deadpanned as he held the cup of water in his right hand.

Tubbo scoffed, “Well maybe there was a little bit of malice but who cares.” He rolled his eyes as he nibbled against the hard crusts, crumbs scattering all over the table, tray and Tubbo’s lap.

“The government cares.” Charlie spoke as he put down his cup a bit dramatically and got up from his place on the table’s bench, “I’m getting dessert, this junk is grim.”

Missa snorted as he watched Charlie leave into the cell house instead, “He’s getting his secret stash of slime, that stuff’s so gross. I’d much rather eat the soggy sponge cake.”

Fit found himself in Phil’s cell. The tears from the cafeteria still threatened to spill as Phil urged the other to take a seat on his bed. Fit sat on the edge, resting his elbows against his knees as his head sunk into his hands.

“Fuck this stupid shit.” He swore under his breath as he ran his hands over his head and back against his face. If it was to subtly wipe away the tears already travelling down his cheeks, he wouldn’t admit it.

Phil sighed as he sat on Missa’s bed opposite Fit, their knees barely brushing. “You know damn well I don’t care if you cry. Stop keeping your shields up all the time.” Phil crossed his arms against his chest.

Fit lifted his head slightly just to deadpan his friend before dropping it back down. “I’ll do what I want.”

“This is why your emotions are up the roof.”

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Fit frowned as he lifted his head once more only to be met with Phil’s bored expression.

“Well, pushing down all your feelings isn’t exactly the best idea because then this happens.” Phil gestured towards Fit with his hands dramatically before leaning back, putting his weight onto his arms which supported him from behind.

Fit scoffed but moved his arms away from his knees to instead cross them rather aggressively. His eyes were a harsh red tone, tears falling without much effort as they dripped down his skin. Fit was sweaty from nerves yet that wasn’t the only thing revealing his true fear of vulnerability. 

His legs shook like mad. Even when he tried his hardest to push them down further against the concrete underneath his shoes to try and stop them. But it only seemed to make it worse, causing Phil’s attention to naturally drift to it.

“You’re nervous.” Phil pointed out, as if he knew every emotion Fit was feeling. It freaked Fit out at how fast the other could read him so much so that he closed himself off further.

“You don’t know shit.” He grumbled as the fingers under his arms from where they were crossed began to grip his orange jacket harshly, trying to seek some sort of comfort or familiarity. Some sort of control. 

Phil rolled his eyes at the stupid remark, “I know you better than anyone, even you. Stop lying to yourself to make yourself feel better.” Phil pressed a hand down against Fit’s right leg, “And stop shaking so much, it’s not helping you.”

“Easier said than done.” Fit moaned as he shrugged Phil off of him and moved his legs, crossing them into each other on top of the bed. “Happy?”

“Much better.” Phil smiled snarkily, “Now tell me what happened this morning. I can tell it’s bothering the fuck out of you.” His tone dropped into a more serious one in the blink of an eye as he watched Fit’s movements and expressions carefully.

Phil knew that Fit was beating around the bush, trying to skip the topic in hopes that he would forget it. But Phil wasn’t stupid. “It was nothing big.” He prefaced beforehand.

“Well it obviously was if you’re this worked up over it.” Phil tilted his head to the side as he bored his eyes to Fit. The expression made the Veteran straighten himself up.

Fit sighed before finally giving in, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “I had slept in Pac’s hospital room last night, must’ve had some fucked up dream causing me to jolt awake. Mike was hovering over me like a freak.” He laughed subtly before continuing.

“He told me Pac had been awake for a little bit before I woke up but something was off about him. The way he looked at the world around him was weird as fuck and I could instantly tell something was up but I just didn’t know what.”

Phil nodded, "At least he’s awake now. How come that’s what got you so distressed?”

Fit huffed, “Well I was getting there old man. Anyway, it wasn’t until Mike tried to touch him that Pac freaked the fuck out. Like full on panic.” He wiped more tears from his cheeks as they came quicker than before. “I think he was hallucinating me and Mike as people who have hurt him in the past. He was so scared. I didn’t know what to do. I mean, what does a man do in that situation?” Fit lifted his head to look at Phil with wide desperate eyes.

“There’s nothing you could do.” Phil emphasised as he reached over and placed a comforting hand on Fit’s knee. “At that point it’s out of your hands.”

“I felt so god damn useless.” Fit sunk into himself, “I didn’t want to just sit and watch. Not when it’s Pac.” He whispered the last words, as if embarrassed to admit his growing feelings that he knew were there but never wanted to actually acknowledge.

Phil smiled sweetly at the quiet admission. Good thing the man was paying heavy attention or otherwise he wouldn’t have heard it at all from how silent it was. “What happened after?”

Fit looked ahead of himself searching Phil’s eyes before reluctantly continuing, “I dragged Mike out of there. I’ve had panic attacks like the one Pac had before back in 2b2t and I knew from experience that it was dangerous if we stayed in there. But Mike was fighting to get back to Pac’s side, I mean the two are inseparable, I honestly don’t know what I expected.”

He sighed, “We ended up getting into a heated argument outside the room. He said some stuff that really punched me in the gut, leaving me with no choice but to walk away from the situation as much as I didn’t want to. Some doctors rushed to Pac’s room just before I left the hospital. I don’t think I could’ve handled being in that place much longer.”

He groaned as his hands ran across his face, “God, I hate that pink bastard sometimes. He just gets on my last fucking nerve.”

Phil hummed in acknowledgement as he rested his elbows onto his knees, his head in his hands. “It was probably just the heat of the moment. I don’t really know Mike that well but he doesn’t seem the type to hurt someone who Pac has an interest in.” He shrugged.

Fit raised an eyebrow as he straightened up slightly, “What do you mean by ‘has an interest in’?” 

“Have you not noticed how different Pac acts around you compared to everyone else in this god forsaken hell hole?” Phil giggled as he watched Fit gawk back at him.

“Doesn’t he just act like that with everyone? I mean he’s a nice guy and he has a charm to him so I wouldn’t put it past him to treat everyone nicely.” Fit dismissed, or rambled, eyes wide in disbelief.

“Yeah, yeah. Believe whatever you want, you’re just in denial.” Phil laughed, holding a hand over his mouth to try and cover it. “God, you’re such a hopeless romantic.

Fit grumbled in response, cheeks burning and eyes shifting to the side as he crossed his arms over his chest ruffly.

“Anyway, if you’re feeling better we should probably head back. I don’t know about you but I’m dying for some sponge cake.” 

It was starting to get late, ten o’clock rolling around as the inmates enjoyed their free time before lights out inside the cell house. Mike had returned a little while after Fit and Phil’s conversation. No one dared speak to him however, let alone approach him. His face was dead, his lips in a hard line and eyes hooded with no life behind them.

Fit was the only one who noticed the slight glint of murderous intent behind his pupils. It shimmered dimly but was there nonetheless. Fit made a note not to approach him in this state, not out of fear, but out of decency. He just didn’t want him to act on whatever was going through his mind.

It seemed to be the right choice as he watched Mike approach Roier from afar, Fit was always the nosy type what could he say. There seemed to be some yelling and arguing before Mike headed out of the cell house and towards what Fit could only assume was the holding cells from what direction he went. The officers overviewing the cells from the sidelines walked after him, attempting to stop him from whatever he was about to do.

“Where’s he going?” Foolish questioned amongst the group.

“I’m not sure but it’s nothing good that’s for sure.” Phil spoke.

“I’ll keep him in line. Be back in a minute.” Fit said before following Mike down the corridor he had left through.

Fit had managed to catch up to the officers walking close behind Mike’s tail. Whether the pinkette knew the officers were following him or not, he didn’t seem to care. He was determined to do whatever it was on his mind, no distraction would stop him.

The path that Craft was taking seemed to lead to solitary confinement, just as Fit had guessed. Of course Mike was going to search for Cellbit at whatever cost. The man would get his revenge eventually but, to be honest, nobody expected it to be this soon. A part of Fit was intrigued in what Mike was like in a fight, especially against someone like Cell. He didn’t look too muscular but maybe he had a sleeper’s build, or the uniform hid his muscles. He knew the inmate valued his wellbeing and took great care of his body so Fit had no doubt that there was some sort of hidden strength to him.

The man entered solitary, the main archway leading to a line of cells. All were empty except one near the end of the row. Cell sat slumped against the floor in the very back of the cell, trying to hide himself away in the right hand corner. His clothes were fresh yet still covered in what looked to be mud and some sort of blood. Underneath his finger nails still had thick clumps of Pac’s skin and blood, probably from where he couldn’t manage to get it out from washing. His hair was a wreck, looking to have been threaded through with his fingers over and over, perhaps some clumps being yanked.

“You better have a good fucking excuse for your actions.” Mike yelled, spitting through the cell bars to show his distaste. Cellbit lifted his head, manic eyes searching Mike’s anger filled pair. He smirked slightly.

“Had it coming.” He muttered, “Now, leave me alone, cadela.”

“Don’t ever, and I mean ever, go anywhere near Pac again. You fucking hear me?!?” Mike yelled, grabbing onto the bars with a death grip, as if he was trying to claw his way in there and get his hands messy. Which he most certainly wanted to.

Cellbit did nothing but laugh quietly to himself. “Sua puta louca. Eu vou te matar, seu babaca!” Mike screamed before officers grabbed his arms as he began hitting the bars over and over, screaming portuguese insults as he did so.

After some struggle Mike was pulled back, four officers stopping him from going any further but it wasn't until the man’s fists were bloody, knuckles bruised and fingers most likely broken. Fit watched as Craft sunk into himself, face shadowing over as his glasses tinted softly, covering his eyes. His posture sunk, arms limply pulled behind his back and now cuffed. He hissed as pain spiked through his fingers, the sting travelling through his nerves like electricity through a wire. The sudden chill from the cold metal of the cuffs on his battered wrists made him wince.

“You looked ridiculous. No point in trying to kill me if you’re that fucking weak.” Cellbit laughed wickedly, running a hand through his hair as his head threw back slightly. “I see where Pac gets his lack of strength from. The little shit can’t even throw a solid punch. You two are a lot more alike than I thought.”

Mike said nothing but clenched his pained fists tightly from behind, the cracking of bones rung in his ears from where they had hammered into the bars. He scraped his teeth against each other as his jaw clenched. He could do nothing but let Cell taunt him, he wasn’t going to let him get the better of him because that meant he won. Pac wouldn’t want that. Mike’s eyes stayed glued to the floor.

“Cellbit, give it a rest.” Bagi, one of the officers who held Mike back, stared at her brother unamused. “Stop riling people up and get some rest. You haven’t slept in days.”

“Tch.” Cellbit grumbled but complied. His sister was already angry at him from the cannibalism earlier that week, he didn’t want to get further on her bad side where there might be no return. 

Mike was eventually dragged away with the reassuring guidance and words of Bagi in order to calm the pinkette down. Fit sighed as he stared off at Cellbit from afar with disgust, nothing but hatred running thick in his veins.

Saying the day had been tiring would be an understatement. Fit was exhausted once he got back to the cell house, mentally and physically. He wanted to do nothing more than to sleep this day away and pray for a better one tomorrow. 

As he walked through the doors leading to the cells, everyone had already managed to find slumber, the officers watching him from the sidelines as he debated on where to go to sleep. His cell had caused him trauma from the night Cellbit walked in and spoke to him before doing the unthinkable. Fit, reluctant to admit, had been having nightmares ever since and only found peace elsewhere.

He crinkled the bridge of his nose and decided to approach Bad, one of the officers on night watch today. The man was broad, standing at approximately the same height as Fit, maybe a little shorter. His long brown hair pushed just past his shoulders and his pupils were glazed with a vibrant red. He wore the average officer uniform, a black button up with a walkie-talkie hanging from the chest pocket, a pair of black trousers and a belt packed with different weapons for safety and a torch.

“Can I sleep elsewhere tonight?” Fit said as he stopped in front of the other.

Bad sighed as he took the walkie-talkie, raising it to his lips in order to speak into it. It took a moment for a response but, to Fit’s relief, it was loud and clear that the answer was yes. “Where are you thinking of sleeping? I know the hospital is more than happy to accommodate you again.” Bad’s lips curled into a soft smile, “I’ve heard that Pac has been stabilised and they’re okay with you sleeping in his room if you’d like?” 

Fit let out a sigh of relief at the statement and eagerly agreed, the two now making their way to the hospital. It was a long walk, considering the hospital unit was on the top floor of the prison. It was probably the fact that Fit was extremely tired that made the walk seem like hours, however.

Once Fit was standing outside Pac’s room, Bad bid his farewell and made his return to the cell house for his duty. Whereas, Fit built up his courage and slowly opened the patient’s door. Relief washed over him as he caught sight of Pac softly sleeping inside his bed. The blood from earlier where he had managed to yank himself out of bed in a frenzy had been thankfully cleaned up. The bed was now pushed to its original place in the centre of the wall and Pac was cuddled up amongst the covers and pillows, wires hanging from his arms to keep him alive.

Fit quietly approached the side of the bed, leaning down and tucking a black lock behind Pac’s ear gently. His hair was incredibly soft considering everyone had to use cheap shampoo and conditioner provided by the prison. His face was relaxed, Fit hadn’t seen the man so peaceful, not since he encountered him in the library a while back. It was a pleasing sight.

He admired the Brazilian a little while longer before shaking his head as he came back to reality and realised what he was doing. ‘God Fit, need to get yourself together.’ He thought as he tried to push certain thoughts away from the front of his head as he backed up and collapsed into the chair opposite the side of the bed.

Fit finally took this moment to enjoy the silence. Allowing sleep to take the better of him, helping relax his mind, the company of Pac allowing him to feel safe shutting his eyes. Eventually, sleep took over and the room filled with nothing more than soft snores