Work Text:
"Wow, man, this is getting a bit too serious."
The DJ said, raising an eyebrow. His face clearly showed his disapproval as he stood with his arms crossed, slightly leaning to one side. "Didn't you say you were going to stop working and take a break?"
Alan looked up from the computer screen on the desk. His pale face and the dark circles under his eyes told the story of a sleepless night.
"I'm almost done," he replied weakly, as if trying to reassure both himself and his friend.
The DJ chuckled sarcastically, tilting his head slightly. His eyes sparkled with amusement. "Funny. I think I've heard that line somewhere before..." He pretended to tap his chin thoughtfully. "Oh, right. From you, three hours ago."
The sarcastic tone still hung in the air as Alan just shrugged. His gaze never left the screen, as though he was racing against time, oblivious to his friend's disapproving look.
"You know..." the DJ began, his voice calm but sharp like a knife, "even if you bury yourself in work like this, it’s not going to help you forget what happened to your kids."
The words hit like a sledgehammer. Alan’s hand, which had been moving the mouse, trembled slightly. He stayed silent, his gaze fixed on the monitor.
"They’re not my kids... They’re just creations I made. That’s all," Alan said, his voice hoarse as if each word was wrung out of him. His eyes remained glued to the screen, but in their depths was a void—a chasm carved by a past he couldn’t escape.
Alan froze as he felt DJ’s hand rest lightly on his shoulder. That gentle touch felt heavier than it should, like a weight pressing down on his heart. His eyes flickered momentarily, but he said nothing.
"You already know the answer, Alan," DJ said softly but firmly.
Silence blanketed the room, broken only by the hum of the computer and the sound of their breathing. Alan closed his eyes tightly as if trying to suppress everything bubbling up inside him. But DJ’s words echoed in his mind.
"I did my best," Alan finally said, his voice trembling, as though defending himself from an invisible verdict. "But it wasn’t enough… It was never enough."
"Yeah," DJ replied bluntly. "Maybe it wasn’t. But punishing yourself over and over like this won’t fix anything. You’re not solving the problem—you’re just running from it."
Alan gritted his teeth, his eyes widening as he stared at the glowing monitor in front of him. The data, numbers, and code that once seemed like answers now appeared empty, meaningless.
"They’re not my kids..." Alan repeated, as if trying to convince himself.
"You can say that to me," DJ shot back, "but you can’t say it to yourself, can you?"
Alan finally turned to face DJ, his eyes red and weary—whether from sleepless nights or suppressed emotions was unclear. DJ met his gaze with a mixture of sympathy and unwavering resolve.
"Alan, they’re not just creations. They’re something you made with love. Can you really say they mean nothing to you?"
Alan swallowed hard, his gaze shifting back to the screen. He let out a long sigh. "Maybe... I’m just not ready."
"Nobody’s ever ready at the start," DJ said, gripping Alan’s shoulder more firmly. "But you don’t have to face it alone."
The words felt like a beam of light piercing through thick fog. Alan stayed silent for a long moment before giving a small nod. He let go of the mouse, turned his back on the screen, and looked DJ in the eyes.
"Thanks," he said quietly, but the sincerity in his voice was something he hadn’t expressed in a long time.
DJ gave a faint smile. "Don’t mention it. That’s what friends are for."