Chapter Text
Chilchuck hated smoking.
He hated the way it tasted like ash in his mouth. He hated the way it smelled, and he hated how the smell would stick to him if he did it too much. Above all else, he hated the way it reminded him of his father.
But still, as much as he hated it, he could admit that it had its uses. He’d been using it to suppress his appetite for years, which could be particularly useful during dungeon dives that lasted longer than expected, or to keep his weight low enough to not trigger traps. He had a job to do, after all.
Though of course, deep down Chilchuck knew that as practical as he claimed it was, that wasn’t the main reason that he smoked.
As much as he hated it, Chilchuck loved the way it burned.
It was stupid, and he knew it. Between his bad knees, low body mass, and terrible lungs, he wasn’t going to be able to do these dives much longer. His body just wasn’t cut out for it anymore. Still, as he took another drag from his cigarette and felt that familiar sharp pain as his lungs protested, he couldn’t bring himself to care.
It had been a long day, and after facing that mimic, Chilchuck didn’t have energy for much more than a quick smoke before he collapsed. He had stepped into the other room as usual to smoke (though not too far, not after that ), since the smell bothered Marcille. It was a good excuse to be alone for a minute, and he never complained about the chance to get away.
Chilchuck slumped against the wall, resting his arms lightly on his knees as he stared blankly at the wall ahead of him. Maybe if he didn’t think too hard about it, he wouldn’t have to remember how stupid he’d been to get stuck in that room… and it was already too late. He was thinking about it now.
He scowled, sucking in another lungful of smoke a bit more aggressively than strictly necessary. He blew it out just as angrily, berating himself for each mistake he’d made over the course of the evening.
“If you had just put the waterskin down,” he muttered under his breath, his fingers tapping incessantly against his knee. “Or if you hadn’t sat on the fucking box without at least checking it first…”
And he claimed to be a professional. How pathetic.
God, Chilchuck hated when he slipped up like this. He hated feeling incompetent, especially after how hard he had worked to gain the respect he deserved. He was good at his job, and he knew it, but on nights like tonight… all of his mistakes came to his mind a bit easier.
Chilchuck glanced at his cigarette and was unsurprised to see that it was almost gone. He sighed heavily, then rolled up his sleeve just enough to press the still-burning end directly into his arm.
“Fuck,” he mumbled, though he didn’t otherwise react as a searing heat flared up in his arm. He held the cigarette there for a moment longer, waiting until the fire died out. Once the light was fully extinguished, he let the cigarette butt drop to the ground and let his head fall back against the wall with a soft thud.
“Fuck,” he said again, just as softly. Even with the cigarette no longer pressed into his arm, the pain was just as prominent as before, and he knew from experience that it would take a few minutes until he would be able to roll his sleeve back down.
He glanced down at his arm; small burns were scattered across the expanse of his skin in a disorderly array. He felt like he should probably be concerned about how many he had accumulated in just a few weeks, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about that, either. Yeah okay, so he had some ugly marks, so what?
That wasn’t to say that this had only started a few weeks ago, though. Oh no, this had been going on for far longer than that. Not that Chilchuck liked being reminded of how his little habit had begun.
He shivered, wrapping his arms a little more tightly around knees. God, the first few weeks in that empty house, left with nothing but an unhelpful note and unanswered questions…
Let’s just say, he hadn’t reacted well.
He wished he could blame her for what she did. And he was angry, because of course he was. Who wouldn’t be, in a situation like that?
But even if he still didn’t really understand it, it must have been his fault, right? He must’ve let her down somehow. If he had figured it out, if he had just been a better husband, then maybe she wouldn’t have…
Chilchuck scowled, doing his best to push the familiar, but unhelpful, thoughts from his mind. He needed a drink, but since alcohol was hard to come by in the dungeon, he couldn’t help but eye the pack of cigarettes on the ground next to him. He knew that he should probably just call it a night and get some sleep, but since when had he ever cared about what he should do?
He couldn’t help but grumble a bit at his own stupidity as he lit up a second cigarette.
Chilchuck took a deep drag from the newly lit cigarette, his nose wrinkling at the smell. Gross.
He felt the smoke curl in his chest, and he held it in his mouth for a few seconds before slowly blowing it out again. It felt terrible, but it wasn’t enough. Without thinking, Chilchuck jammed the lit end of the cigarette into his arm again.
He winced, looking down in shock as pain unexpectedly bloomed in his arm. He… hadn’t meant to do that. Not that he regretted it, per se, but still. That probably wasn’t a good sign.
He pulled the cigarette away from his arm and stared down at the angry red spot left behind. It burned like hell, but Chilchuck found that that didn’t bother him in the slightest. No, what bothered him was–
Not good enough.
Chilchuck didn’t even blink, continuing to stare at his arm as he rolled the thought around in his head. Not good enough? What was that supposed to mean?
Unbidden, thoughts of his wife and daughters came to mind. His mind reminded him of times when he’d raised his voice at them, times when he had ignored his wife’s emotional cues, times when he had broken promises to be there for an important birthday.
All he could think of was the times when he had let down those who were the most important to him.
Amidst the onslaught of unpleasant memories, Chilchuck was surprised when suddenly a different thought came to mind. He thought of the trap that they had walked into, of the way they had wasted three days worth of food because he had failed to catch it in time.
He remembered watching his party doing everything they could to defeat the red dragon on empty stomachs, and being powerless to help them.
He didn’t know why his coworkers were coming to mind at the moment, but all he could think about was how he'd let them down, too.
And he thought he got it now.
Not good enough.
Chilchuck lit the cigarette again.
This time, he didn’t bother bringing the cigarette to his mouth. Instead, he immediately pressed it harshly into his arm, hissing at the accompanying pain.
“Holy shit,” he breathed, examining the newest addition to his collection of scars. “Damn, that hurts.”
Not good enough.
Chilchuck stiffened as the thought came again. No… he supposed that it wasn’t. Not after everything he’d done, after how badly he’d screwed up today. Sure, it had worked out in the end, but what if he had died? Then Marcille would’ve had to revive him, and she really needed to be saving her mana for when they found Falin.
God, Falin…
He missed her.
And maybe if he had just done his damn job, he wouldn’t have to.
Chilchuck scowled again, pulling out another match with shaky hands. The incessant thought was a bit bothersome, but he found that he couldn’t agree more.
Not fucking good enough.
Chilchuck lit the cigarette again and again, each time pressing the end into his arm with reckless abandon. He found himself growing increasingly dissatisfied with his efforts, and as he was nearing the end of the cigarette once again, he let out a frustrated grunt and jabbed the damn thing directly on top of one of his fresh burns.
“Fuck!” he spat, the cigarette slipping from his hand. “Shit!”
He slumped forward onto his knees, turning his arm so that he wouldn’t brush against any of the burns. For a moment he just sat there, breathing heavily.
God, I hate myself so much.
Oh, great. So it was one of those days, then. Although in retrospect, that wasn’t all that surprising. He knew he wasn’t really… happy with himself, hadn’t been for a long time. But it wasn’t often that it got this bad.
Oh well, it would pass with time.
He just needed a few minutes. Just until his whole arm wasn’t on fire anymore.
Chilchuck sat there, waiting for the pain to gradually ebb away. He nestled his chin in his knees and stared blankly at the wall ahead of him, trying to keep his mind from wandering places that he didn’t want it going. It wasn’t easy, but focusing on the pain helped a bit.
Once he felt calm enough, Chilchuck risked a glance at his arm. He winced at the sight; to say that it was worse than normal was an understatement.
He grumbled a bit, but begrudgingly reached into his pouch for his bandages that were normally reserved for wrapping his feet. He usually skipped this step, but he was capable of admitting when things had gone too far. If he rolled his sleeve down on top of that mess, he would regret it later.
He pulled himself to his feet and headed over to the fountain so that he could run some water over his arm. He hissed as the cold water made contact with the fresh burns, but internally sighed in resignation. He supposed he deserved that.
After a minute or two, Chilchuck retrieved his arm and carefully wrapped it up before rolling his sleeve down over the evidence. Not that he really cared if his coworkers noticed, since he had plenty of practice deflecting their bothersome questions. Still, they were annoying, and he didn’t feel like dealing with that right now.
Finally satisfied, Chilchuck rejoined the main group, noting that Marcille and Laios were already out cold. Senshi gave him a small nod but didn’t otherwise comment as Chilchuck made his way over to his sleeping roll and collapsed into it.
He found himself absent-mindedly pressing a finger into one of the newer burns as he slowly faded off into sleep.
It happened the next morning, as they were refilling their waterskins before heading out.
“Chilchuck!”
Chilchuck swung his head around, looking up with bewilderment at an uncharacteristically upset Senshi. The dwarf seemed to be staring down at the ground, a disapproving look on his face.
“What?”
“So this is what you were doing last night? Smoking?”
Ah, he had found the cigarette butts Chilchuck had left on the ground.
“Um, yeah? What’s it to you?”
Senshi shook his head, clearly concerned. “That’s bad for your health! And two in one night? Don’t you want to be big and strong when you grow up?”
Chilchuck glanced down at the cigarette stubs. Normally he would never let such a misinformed comment slide, but right now, he didn’t have the energy to correct his well-meaning associate. He was tired, his arm was still throbbing from his activities the night prior, and it honestly felt like a losing battle anyway.
Instead, he stepped forward, crushing the remains of the cigarettes under the heel of his boot.
“Sure, Senshi,” he muttered. “I’ll keep that in mind.”