Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Cool-toned lights dimmed across your path, flickering above. Not a moment was wasted when you located a side observation room, hiding quickly into a corner. You huddled as close as possible, bringing your knees up to your chest. Your breath stilled. The large, thick document you had been clutching for ages was protected within your arms firmly. An asset you couldn’t afford to lose.

The silence was eerily suffocating. So quiet, that you could sense the movement of a squiddle across the room, standing idly next to a desk. The calm before the hurricane never got any more adjustable. None of this was. It shouldn’t be.

Nevertheless, you swallowed upon hearing faint screeches getting gradually louder, filling room after room. Pandemonium, you thought, recognizing a certain pitch to the noise. You could only sigh in immense relief that you had found a room rather than a locker, shielding your eyes with the file in your hold. A distant, relating memory flashed through your mind. 

Steady trembling shot through your hands, the sound now blaring past the door, until silence greeted the room once again. You darted out from the room, file in one hand and flashlight in the other. Complete darkness seemed to engulf the next room, and there wasn’t an ounce of risk in your body. Not when you had five more rooms to go through.

It all seemed to blur together, one facility space after another. Heavy containment halls surrounding you. Cold metal echoing from beneath your boots. But having a single thing — or person — at the top of your mind, it made only so much sense. It was one of the most crucial goals to reach down here, and that said a lot. You held the file to your chest. Giddiness and hesitance swarmed in your gut sourly.

A final door slid open revealing a mostly dark space, the only luminance coming from a standing facility light pointed towards a vent. The sight made the hours spent on searching for the particular file folder you’ve been gripping like a vice infinitely worth it. You hoped it would be for him too. Before entering the vent, a faint voice rumbled, “Got something for ya, come here.” 

You’d be lying if you said that wasn’t the highlight of every run.

Metal thuds followed every movement of you trudging through, a hand supporting your weight against the frigid surface — your other hand tightly securing the gift. A comment left Sebastian before you could get a word out after entering his shop, seemingly standing more stiff than usual. Actually, you had gotten significantly less nervous around him, which ironically made him more nervous. “Did you bump your head on your way here? That measly file won’t suffice for a single item.”

In any other typical interaction, your shoulders would have slumped with a sarcastic remark. But your stance remained. “It’s not that kind of asset.” You huffed, with a small smile, sticking both arms up to lift the file towards Sebastian. “Here. Happy birthday.”

A pause. 

“How did you—“

“It came up in a conversation with Painter a few runs ago. Don’t give him shit for it, I know it’s something you don’t really want to remember.” Uncertainty took over your expression, watching as Sebastian took the present from your hands, also uncertain.

His eyes glanced at the file with a quizzical look, then back at you. Wordlessly urging to explain.

Sweat accumulated in your palms. “It’s a file. Well obviously it’s a file— the contents list every possible exit of the underwater facility and how to breach the security during a lockdown. It must have been written for employees that just so happened to get stuck like we are.”

Sebastian's face relaxed, but now completely unreadable. Is he going to kill me?

“I just— I hope it helps. And to maybe remind you that you’re one year closer to escaping. Not rotting away.” Your hands came up to grip your biceps nervously, twisting the fabric of your sleeves. “I uh— I’m not sure why I worded it like that. But I want you to know, maybe, that you have computers, creatures, and… other people down here that care about you.”

Other people.

You ended your stumbled rant with a weird, sheepish grin, and an odd shrug. Every muscle in your body pulled taut. With every passing second of silence, your fight or flight — or, just flight — mode kicked up a notch. You were worried of pissing Sebastian off, or worse, hurting him. Never in all of the time you’ve spent down in these endless rooms, at incomprehensible lengths, had you ever heard Sebastian this quiet. Did I kill him?

The blank look in eyes grew, as if Sebastian was processing your words a few times over. His head then lowered to stare back at the file, boring holes into the cover page.

It felt as if possibly the largest lump was stuck in your throat. “Okay, that’s it. I’ll um— I’ll go, I won’t bother you any longer—” Only until second eight of silent treatment did you begin making your way out, turning to leave. You weren’t scared of Sebastian, just taking his silence as a response. You’d never be scared of him. Only scared of driving him away, or having your fear do so.

The fog of insecurity began to clear when you heard shuffling, then completely when a large hand curled around your shoulder to pivot you back around. You weren't given a chance to question what Sebastian was doing when the sensation of his lips meeting yours shot sparks through your being. What seemed to be an expression of longing and appreciation cinched his eyes shut, the entirety of the view surrounding you. (Which must have been a lot, considering how blown wide your eyes were.) A new, indescribable fog surrounded you.

As quick as it was initiated, you registered that this was real, and it was happening. Something you learned down here is that if an opportunity presented itself to you on a silver platter, you fucking take it. Your neck tilted to accommodate the height difference, and your hands found purchase on the lapels on Sebastian’s chest. Butterflies weren’t strong enough of an idiom to describe the feeling in your gut. The motions smoothed into a rhythm, your eyes now shut to fully embrace it all. Hopefully, until the end of time.

Once Sebastian knew for sure you reciprocated the risky gesture, he placed the file in one of his coat pockets, then laid his two main hands on your jaw and neck, while the third was tensed in the air. His face slotted against yours with ease, as if not meant to be anywhere else.

Every inch of your skin sizzled, adrenaline surging through your veins like never before. You hadn’t remembered the last time you felt these feelings. But it felt damn good, to prove that goodness wasn’t such a scarce commodity down here than you thought it was. To prove that Urbanshade couldn’t strip these emotions from you despite their persistent efforts. To prove that you were still human.

Sebastian felt the same way.

The relief of finally feeling something other than fear and dread was so intense to the point of blinding yourself from the world around you. The lockers, the flash beacons, the shop, the facility, Urbanshade in its entirety, all materialized into nothing. There was nothing. Nothing but you and Sebastian.

The kiss didn’t last as long as the both of you would’ve liked, but the world it had created made it feel like an eternity. It had all felt so natural as if it was thought about beforehand. Had you? 

If your eyes had opened just a moment quicker, you would have caught the flicker of apprehension in Sebastian's gaze as he pulled away. Funnily enough, now you weren’t able to form words. Redness erupted throughout your face, wearing an expression of a deer caught in headlights. As wide as your eyes were, you couldn’t comprehend a single thing in your line of vision. The shopkeeper couldn’t help but laugh. 

The buzzing of the shop’s fans had never been louder.

Sebastian’s hands slid down to your shoulders, supporting himself to press his forehead against yours. “You spent hours scavenging for a birthday gift that is possibly the key to getting out of this place. For me. I really don’t think you understand the weight of this information.” Glowing eyes remained fixed on yours, his claws twitching. “Thank you.”

Focusing on anything other than where his touch met you was nearly impossible. Your head swam further at Sebastian’s words, because there wasn’t malice or sarcasm lacing his tone, only something atone to meaningfulness. He said thank you. Maybe you did hit your head.

Your hands moved to clutch at his forearms. In understanding, mutualism, anything. These motions just felt right. “So… you kissed me because I picked out a great present?” Half out of curiosity, half knowing the answer already, but wanting to hear it. 

The deadpan Sebastian does to say, ‘Why am I even talking to you?’ never got any less amusing. “I didn’t want to keep you in the dark any longer. Felt like the right time anyways.” Constructing these kinds of words seemed to be his biggest task. “Do I need to spell it out for you?”

And the realization struck you like a freight train. All this time you had spent wondering what it’d be like if Sebastian shared the same sentiment, when either of you could have been acting on it. Living it. You lifted your head from his through clarity. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Don’t let it get to your head.” A claw gently poked your forehead. “Also, you going out of your way, aside from your own efforts to escape, to help me to freedom, sort of adds to it. Which I don’t exactly understand.” Sebastian didn’t think he ever would.

Unbelievable. This asshole was unbelievable. “Don’t understand? You’ve been forced to deal with a multitude of shit that should never have happened. If Urbanshade won’t make up for it, someone has to. Except I want to.” Your eyes flickered around his. “It’s called empathy.”

Empathy, not sympathy. Sebastian was observant enough to coin that. Unfortunately, hurt seemed to be something the two of you could relate to the most. But he understood now, that his hurt made you hurt. Pity was off the table.

“Listen,” Your gaze drifted to the floor, about to tread dangerous territory. “I don’t exactly know what happened to impact you this deeply, and I don’t expect to. That’s in your hands. But what matters to me is that you allow yourself to feel the aftermath of it, not putting up an act to cope with it all. Especially after you get out of here.”

It seemed like more words were clicking in your mind, and surprisingly, Sebastian let you see through it. He was listening. The re-tightening of his grip told you so.

You carefully placed both hands on the ones on your shoulders and he flinched. Fuck. “It’s not required to let go of grudges and trauma. And you’re allowed to feel grief, and mourning. I feel it for you. But I don’t want you to feel alone.” Dull pain stung as you bit the inside of your lip. The second round of silence was just as unnerving, if not more. 

The freight train turned back and headed for Sebastian. You didn’t treat him like some charity case, or a side project to make yourself feel better about living in shitty circumstances. Everything you felt — and in this case, did — was out of affection.

“I could say the same about you.” Sebastian scoffed. But he began reiterating your words. “You wanted to. Because you’ve felt this way towards me. Concerned, worried, whatever.” His eyebrows scrunched.

You nodded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Of course. I know a thing or two about tragedy.” Oh, how you abhorred Urbanshade for making him second-guess any kindness he received.

“Wouldn’t that have been hindering your own goal to get the crystal?” Sebastian couldn’t help but be concerned for your concern, your ignorance of his first sentence refusing to fly past his head.

“Sebastian.” Now you had to look him in the eyes. “After what we’ve seen of each other, I’d never let myself leave knowing you hadn’t.”

Mauled. Sebastian was mauled by the freight train. Having been thrown for a loop or two, Sebastian raised to his full height, discern surging through him. You would have retrieved the crystal ages ago. Knowing you had been sabotaging your freedom for his made him a little crestfallen, but you were set on the idea of reaching freedom together. Wasn’t he known as the saboteur?

Unlike other times where Sebastian suppressed his emotions, it seeped from his very being. It was hard to pinpoint exactly what it was, but it was tempestuous. Shocked, and full of dread, but genuine too. You realized that this was his initial reaction to someone reaching great lengths for him; the lost look etched on his face was heartbreaking. His wounds must have made a home in your heart, the way your chest hurt, feeling it.

It was a long while before he said anything. Anxiety grew within you with every second that lacked a response.

“Well then,” Sebastian started with, clearing his throat. “Better late than never. I’m gonna get us out of here.” If he hadn’t taken his time, he supposes he would have started with ‘Oh my god’, or, ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ .

You had been expecting quite the scolding, too. “By ‘us’, you mean…?”

“Me, you, and Painter. This,” He reached for the file in his pocket, gesturing it in the air. “Is all I need.”

Sebastian had more confidence in you than you would have preferred. “Me? But I could be a serial killer, or a drug dealer to kids, or—“

“Or someone undeserving of their sentence. It takes one to know one.” Hurt and understanding flickered across his face.

A glass table would have shattered with less intensity than your heart did. You had more in common with Sebastian than you thought, although none of it seemed to be on good terms. How comedic.

Sebastian pocketed the file back in his coat, crouching onto his elbows, and began making his way through the open vent. “Alright, come on,”

“Wha— where are we going?” You watched the last of the shopkeeper's tail compactly fold and sleeve through the vent. The management of his size continued to amaze you.

“To bake a cake.” His snarky voice rumbled from the other end of the vent, sarcasm up to par. Sebastian couldn’t keep those walls down for long, but you’d make sure it wasn’t the last time. “We’re gonna go see Painter — figure out an escape plan. No time to waste.”

His typical impatience never got old. You followed his movements, dropping to your forearms and shuffling through the enclosed space. As you nearly breached the vent, Sebastian hung an idle hand, waiting for you. A waiting hand for freedom. For a new life. It was an indelible choice.

Were you ready? Your spine ran with shudders, a tremble prickled the very nerve endings of your arms, and you took his hand, hoping he could feel how you pooled all of your love into a single palm. Sebastian’s hold lifted you to your feet, the prick of his claws curling around your knuckles made you loopy. 

You weren’t ready, no. But for them, you would try.

Chapter Text

That was the last time Sebastian would kill dreadful hours in that shop; making deals, negotiating discounts, and obliterating anyone that tried anything funny. It was the first of many places he’d be quick to forget about Urbanshade.

Emotions, however, not so much.

Sebastian wasn’t intending to feel them at all until he went ahead and kissed you. (That was a lie, he felt it re-sprouting after the first few times you graced this hell with your presence. Lying was something you made unnecessarily complicated.)

You would have been whisked around like dead weight trying to keep up with Sebastian’s speed if he hadn't released your hand. You knew that. And so did he, but the muscles in his forearm seemed to have fought tooth and nail to release his subconscious hold on you.

And when you hesitated to let go? He nearly groaned in frustration. But again, it all went unnoticed by you. Unnoticed of how destructive you were.

Urbanshade had spent years threading apart his very being; and every ounce of humanity that went with it. Slicing and stitching over true intentions and feelings. Then you came along, forcing Sebastian to feel those feelings, pick up all the pieces, and puzzle it together so he could bear some sort of semblance as to what they were. They were suffocating, is what it was.

So was the asbestos probably floating around the facility.

You decided to pace behind Sebastian as he led the way, clutching onto the straps of your air tanks. Although you were half-expecting to get flung into the nearest locker whilst on his tail, Sebastian kept his actual tail somewhat stable. He moved certainly through each door like he knew these walls like the back of his hand. Actually, he probably did; it must have been years that he’d been residing down here. A sour pang hit your gut.

Despite the importance of it all, an uncomfortable silence submerged you and Sebastian. The elephant in the room (or rooms) followed in suit. If it were to be brought to light, you knew damn well Sebastian would have nothing to do with it. Not like you knew how to do so anyways, feeling like a couple of mindless teenagers with a hopeless crush.

But you weren’t. It was two adults with feelings the size of the facility itself. One ridiculous bullshit after another.

Surely, you deserve a gold medal for how collected you were keeping yourself. Oh, but of course, you scolded inwardly, to no one, doesn’t everyone kiss Sebastian Solace and suppress the feeling of vomiting out their heart? You were surprised it hadn’t swelled to the size of a submarine and imploded already.

The confidence in Sebastian’s sense of direction also relied on the lack of active turrets, deceiving doors, and Eyefestation altogether. Each door you came across had a security camera situated at the top, with a steadily blinking light. Painter’s monitoring increased when it was the both of you trekking. He must have figured it was serious upon the rare sight.

“He’s always around here somewhere,” And Sebastian was right, the interior of the rooms shifting into the familiar, spacious heavy containment halls. “I don't expect much movement from a computer.”

A sudden laugh bubbles out from your chest, and Sebastian can’t help but resist the urge to turn around and see the expression you would have made doing so. Something blooms in his chest, and he loathes it .

It brings him back to a memory with you in his shop when he had first heard it; whether it was weeks or months ago, Sebastian can’t place his claw on it – any sense of circadian rhythm in the blacksite was thrown into the abyss. A sarcastic remark was made on his end, regarding the treatment previous expendables had received from him after using that treacherous flash beacon within the room's confines. Perhaps it was his tone, or comedic timing, but something about it sent you laughing until the wind was knocked out of you. Then, Sebastian made an additional comment, and your fit of wheezing stretched into ten minutes. 

Sebastian particularly remembers that sound filling the room, but always thought he had been hallucinating when the luminance of his esca shone just a little brighter. He catches himself about to smile at a nearby squiddle.

Darkness spilled from the next room, the circular valves on the door turning as it divided into two. The ground rumbled beneath your boots from the machinery. As horrific the halls were, filled to the brim with supernatural creatures, these sectors of mysterious phenomena peaked some interest in you. On another note, after all that you’ve seen, experienced, and in some cases, familiarized with in the blacksite, nothing could truly surprise you anymore. A little exploration never hurt anyone.

The moment the door creaked open just wide enough for you to slip through, you made a hasty attempt to sidestep Sebastian, stepping forward with little thought. Before your movement could leave no room for caution, a large forearm raised to your chest to block you from taking another step. “Hold on.”

A landmine that blinked in tandem with a warning sound answered your unsaid question, annoyingly blaring on the floor a foot away from you. “Oh. Thanks. That would’ve been mind blowing.” You huffed out a laugh, lowering Sebastian’s arm with the hand you laid on it.

You may have moved on, leading Sebastian into the unknown room with a flashlight, but he remained in that moment as he tagged your trail. That sliver of mindful touch. It measured where you knew it wouldn’t make his skin crawl, but enough to linger and seep into his bones like venom. A buzzing, tangible venom.

Damn you, going around acting sickeningly sweet and genuine around him. 

The way your face fought itself to keep from lifting into a painful smile every time you saw him , and the redness that came with it. The way every movement you made around him was cautious. Bashful, almost. The way you looked at him, even when bickering against each other, held an overflowing sense of — of adoration. All while respecting his unspoken boundaries of everything; conversations, motives, contact . Your closed-off demeanor certainly catfished the staggering levels of emotional intelligence you had. He wasn't sure if that made him want to smack you away with his tail fluke or cradle all three arms around your head.

Cold, damp walls continued to leer over the two of you, abandoned heavy machinery whirring the distance. The metal-grated floor echoed with each step – or slither. You discarded your flashlight early on into venturing the pitched rooms, seeing as how Sebastian’s esca shone more vastly than the tool ever had. Each squiddle you passed made their defensive faces, tensing their tentacles, but wouldn’t dare move from their spot. How on earth did Sebastian manage to ward off squiddles? They must have thought you were crazy.

Fluorescent lighting blared from the following door that slid open, the layout entirely different from previous rooms, but familiar to both you and Sebastian. Bulky towers lined parallel to each other with what must have been countless enterprise servers. Soft buzzing filled the ambience. As aesthetic as it was, you felt bad how lonely the sentience must have gotten down here; the rest of those who lurk went unspoken. Perhaps their reputation would uphold differently had their circumstances been different – or better off to have not existed at all. You felt the same about yourself sometimes.

A deep mutter sounding from behind you cut your spiraling short, “I wonder how we’re gonna smuggle him out of here.”

You only hummed, sharing similar thoughts. As you walked closer to the middle of the three aligned doors against the back wall, the door hissed softly as it automatically opened. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of a familiar computer in the corner of the room – location indifferent from any other time you’ve come to see him in person. Past the cheeky, almost sadistic behaviour of the AI, Painter had come to be another individual you’d somehow made partnership with. After a certain point, you had stopped becoming turret target practice.

“Hey you guys! And happy birthday Sebastian!” Almost instantly, did Painter have an enthusiastic face drawn upon his screen. “Is something going on?” His system fans whirred loudly behind him.

Somewhat of a disheartened smile spread across your face at his immediate excitement. It wasn’t uncommon you’d feel remorse for the computer – being stuck in a dead blacksite after endless, excruciating roblux mining with your only hope of freedom completely in someone else's hands didn’t seem all that invigorating. More hopeless, or draining, as you’d imagine. But it was also hopeless to continue to dwell on misfortune, not when it would come to an end so soon.

It could be saved for a moment of peace.

You strolled closer and sat on the swivel chair in the room. “Well—”

“ Someone, found a file that lists all of the possible exits from this place and how to get around security.” Sebastian squeezed through the entrance, leaning on an idle wall. “Neat birthday gift, huh?”

He left out a pivotal moment from that recent exchange, obviously. Heat crawled up your neck at the memory. A smile fought with your face to appear. Sebastian allowed himself to wear one, his ears twitching.

Being the observant computer he was, Painter’s gaze switched between you and Sebastian; both expressions wearing a hint of bashfulness and avoiding each other's gazes. Something happened. He wasn’t entirely sure what, but it was something. A tiny thought in the back of his RAM made a hasty conclusion, but there were other important topics at hand. Nonetheless, he’d find out.

“That was your birthday gift to him—!? Aw man, all I made was a stupid drawing.” Eyebrows were drawn on Painter's screen — literally and figuratively. An additional tab popped up across his face; a drawn scene consisting of Painter hanging out with Sebastian in his shop.

Sebastian moved closer to the gated wall that fenced Painter to get a better look at the artwork. “It’s all you could make, Painter.” He sentimentally squinted his eyes. “Besides, I love it man. Thanks.”

“Really? Good, ‘cause that took me two hours.” A somewhat giddy expression overturned Painter’s face. His eyes motioned between you and Sebastian again. “So this file, does it mean that we can finally…?”

“Yes,” A hopeful, yet nervous sigh left you. “I think it’s all we need to get the hell out of here.”

Painter seemed to ponder about it, and any possible strategies to actually formulate a plan. Accounting for a computer and a giant fishman with bounties on their heads was easier said than done. “How do you expect to sneak me out? You… you wouldn’t leave me here, right?”

“No—! No, no, no, absolutely not. I meant what I said.” You shut that thought down, waving your hands uncoordinatedly. Abandonment was a common fear that haunted these walls, you supposed. “Our best option would be to smuggle you in a box, though. That’s all I can think of.”

Sebastian scratched his jaw, thinking. “Unfortunately, I think it is. But as a registered prisoner under Urbanshade, leaving this place means you’re guaranteed to leave with the belongings you entered with.” A large claw points your direction. “That’s our chance to hide Painter in a box claimed as your confiscated possessions.”

“Look at mister smart guy over here.” You smiled condescendingly, suddenly met with a three-eyed deadpan. One down, one more to go. Although, you were sure leaving with Sebastian shouldn't raise any hitches. He deserved as much freedom as the next person, if not more. 

But an odd silence fell upon the room. Painter seemed to have a thought at the front of his mind, and Sebastian already knew what it was. A familiar look of frustration crossed over the shopkeeper's face. Were you missing something? You didn’t want to be missing something.

A loud whirring sourced from your right. “Wait, didn’t your file say that under no circumstance—”

“Yes Painter , I know .” Sebastian gestured a cutting motion to his neck with a hand. “We’ll deal with that later.”

“Deal with what later?” You turned the chair towards Sebastian, a serious look cutting your expression. “If we’re gonna discuss every detail of our escape plan, it should be now.”

Sebastian’s coat nearly tore from the grip his crossed arms had. His entire body seemed to tense up. “It’s not important, leave it.” His tone would’ve been more assertive if it wasn’t underlying with… anxiety? Unease? Whatever it was, he was treading on pins and needles. It only sank your gut further to your ass.

“What did your file say?” Less of a question, more of an order. “ What did they say, Sebastian?”

Painters face shrunk, as if shrinking in on himself without the ability to do so. 

Your full body gesture of anticipation froze in time, waiting for an answer. Sebastian always gave you an answer. Instead, he refused to reciprocate his gaze with yours and swallowed. “Step outside the room,” His head nudged towards the open door, tail leading out the frame since it would have been more than difficult to fold it in the room.

“Wha— answer me , I’m not leaving until you—”

An exasperated sigh. “Cool it, I’m coming with you.”

Although you stood from the chair, you didn't move an inch. Only looking at Sebastian with cinched eyebrows and confused eyes.

Painter does too. “Uh, where are you guys—?”

“Discussing something.” The look Sebastian shot at Painter held context you weren’t aware of. “Be back in a sec’.” 

He squeezed back through the door frame, claw scraping the outside wall. Your sight flickered to Painter once more before following Sebastian out, leaving the door to close shut.

Sebastian still said nothing for the first few moments of exiting the room. He only sighed, rubbing his temple and fidgeting with his cravat scarf. Usually, this display of out-of-character avoidance would have you looking at him in mirth, but the topic — which was still known amongst everyone but you — didn’t call for it. You audibly cleared your throat. 

Your stance may have been intentionally intimidating, crossed arms, spread feet, but Sebastian couldn’t help but find it amusing. His heightened view of you didn’t help his effort in suppressing a giggle. However, nothing chipped your stone-cold glare.

He could take the heat. “That large file on my desk? Not nothing, actually,” Sebastian huffed a weird laugh, “It’s my file.” 

Of course, he was unable to start the second sentence without intense scolding.

“ That’s your file—!? Oh you— Why’d you lie about it!?” You shifted to slowly walk around in circles, palms meeting your forehead like a disappointed parent. “Why’d you keep me from it? Who else knows about it?”

Sebastian cringed at your tone, hissing. “Let me explain it, please.”

The word ‘ please ’ leaving his mouth shut you up.

“A section of the file Urbanshade wrote about me states that under no circumstance, should I leave the premises alive. Something about Mr. Urbanshade ordering operatives to shred their mags upon seeing me.” He elaborated, shrugging.

If the explanation that had been spoken didn’t plunge you in numbing anger, the zero punch to Sebastian's words made your skin sear. He shrugged . Like this information was just another normalcy to his life. Except it was; all of this was. Your hands dug into your arms, painful and harsh. You didn’t know rage was also an emotion that could spark a quake in your limbs.

“Are you fucking kidding me? ”

You borderline shouted, the sound reverberating up the expansive ceiling. A pang of guilt hit you when you realized the sudden volume made Sebastian duck and wince, his ears recoiling. Quiet apologies were muttered. The commanded assassination was hung on Sebastian’s conscience, not yours, you had to remember that. But you couldn’t help but feel more obligated the more you learnt. 

Had Painter not known any better, would he have thought you decimated Sebastian into fine dust right then and there. The AI could only stare at the door and pray he wasn't next.

You took a single step closer, leaning your hands on your waist. “What else does that file say?” 

Sebastian could physically see the wrath in your eyes. He shook his head. “Nothing worth seeing. It’d only piss you off. More.”

That alone pissed you off. You sputtered, incredulously. “Is that it? That you didn’t want to make me more angry with Urbanshade than I already was?” A small part of you had a feeling it was not. 

“Well— no, a certain part of it would make you angry with me. ” He carded a hand through his black hair, flicking his esca. “I know, selfish on my end.”

Both you and Sebastian knew he wouldn’t walk out of this conversation without having to inform further what that entailed. He was ridiculous to worry about your reaction, surely. He didn’t think you’d be disappointed, or betrayed. It was illogical, and he didn’t care about people's opinions. Probably. 

The inquiring hand that rested on his wrist made it harder not to. Malaise seemed to cross your face. You only tilted your head, urging him to continue. Maybe you would understand.

He swallowed, again. “I started the lockdown.” Sebastian raised his arm away from you, leaving your hand idly. He hated the way it clamped on air. “I let out all these monsters. I started the ‘Expendable Protocol’. I made you relive this hell over and over.”

A beat.

“And you thought I’d hate you?”

Sebastian didn’t realize how much that tiny voice doubting your tentativeness was winning after a huge sigh of relief left his lungs ( Since when was he holding his breath—? ), but his eyes squinted at you. Was he missing something? Did he state everything that should have warranted a flash beacon to the face?

Quiet fell upon the surrounding air. It was heavy; heavy with thought and contemplation. 

That confession provided you with more clues about Sebastian’s character than you expected. He was holding these crucial details from you in safety from potential abandonment. The closer you got to him, the more it solidified his choice in keeping that file away from your knowledge at all costs. Over any other expendable, he valued his relationship with you. You weren’t fully equipped to take in this weight in Sebastian’s true colours. Especially in the span of an hour — it took you ten interactions to learn that his favourite colour was first teal, then changed to dark green.

But the main theme underlying his words was wringing your mind; Sebastian was afraid of losing you. Oh, your ego was the size of planets by now.

“If you were, I don’t know, worried, or something, that I’d be angry with you,” You’d stay guessing to preserve his ego, though. “You’re stupid. After all this time, I thought you’d expect better of me.”

And yet he remained puzzled. “Did you not hear what I—”

“I would have done the same, Sebastian. After what they did to you? And which there’s more I don’t know? I don’t blame you. ”

Sebastian didn’t realize how much he needed to hear that. A choked ‘ Oh ’ left his throat. He scratched his neck awkwardly. Your words began to sink deep into his chest, pressed onto his heart with wax and sorrow. “I— Okay.”

You brought a tending hand up to pat his lower arm. “Okay?”

“Okay.” He nodded hesitantly, a lost look drowning his eyes.

Without a word, you stepped away to return back to Painter, shaking your head in disbelief having broken eye contact. There was… a lot of repairing to get done. It’s not like you found it repulsive, or a chore, but it asked for a tedious amount of effort. On both ends. You just hoped Sebastian would open up enough for any progress to seep into the cracks of his chest. Can’t build a new house with old bricks, or whatever the saying was.

Negligence of your own hypocrisy did not go unknown, but you chose to believe it that way.

Wide, circular eyes met yours as you re-entered the server room, slipping a giggle from you. The doors were thick, but not soundproof. “I’m not gonna penalize you too, calm down.” You made your way back to the office chair, watching Sebastian situate himself against the wall adjacent to the fenced wall of Painter’s enclosure.

An assortment of thoughts clambered around your head until the fog cleared, and you could muster up a somewhat logical idea. “Considering Sebastian’s… reputation, he should be the one to retrieve the crystal.” You exhaled, clasping your hands on your lap, “Which should be soon.”

“And what difference does that make? Not to burst your bubble, but I’d have a bullet between the eyes regardless.” Sebastian scoffed. 

You shook your head, determined. “No, just hear me out. We were given strict instructions that whoever gets the crystal is to be released from their sentence and free to go, no exceptions. This includes search parties.” The unravelling of your thoughts made it sound a lot duller, unfortunately. “Every individual of that search party is guaranteed freedom. No matter the contents of their sentence, or business in Urbanshade.”

“A loophole.” He stared off at a nearby locker, thinking. Thinking and thinking. Thinking of the plan's execution. Thinking of leaving Urbanshade in the dust. Thinking of life afterwards and the autonomy it will grant.

“Yeah, exactly.” You nodded, tilting your head to meet Sebastian’s gaze, but his focus remained. Again, lost. “A loophole. Especially if you get the crystal and reach the end port with us? You’ll have to be given freedom. No exception. ”

Those last two words hung heavy in the air. You were completely logical, but the question of whether or not Urbanshade would be logical also hung in the air. It was hard to remember times they were; but if you, a registered expendable, had knowingly collected the crystal along with Sebastian, freedom would be your tongue of truth. They’d never recover. But it was nothing compared to the countless thoughts formulated of what you would do given the chance to lay hands on Mr. Urbanshade.

“This has to work, right? It’s their word against theirs.” A third voice piped up from your right. Painter being a witness reminded Sebastian he can’t show any display of thanks to you. Not yet, at least. He halted his yielding choices.

The chair creaked from beneath you as you stood, swiping remnants of sweat on your palms on your pants. “Well, that’s for us to find out.” Item lockers thudded as you ransacked them, until you located a purple keycard. It was inserted into the door separating you and Painter. “But we’ll have to transport you first.” Without a clue, you scratched your head, looking at Painter.

“Unplug and stick him in your bag. It’s the only way. Bring the computer box, laptop, and drawing tablet too.” Sebastian moved closer, interlacing his claws with the gate.

A frustrated face morphed on Painter’s face. “Hey, I’m right here you know! I didn’t agree to being stuffed in a bag.” He whined, eyes nearly squinting into fine lines. “I can’t even fit in there.”

“How do you think people are able to pack tons of items? People are constantly brought back from the dead and that’s what peaks your confusion?” Chuckles laced Sebastian’s words. He had a point; dialectic conversation was a tough one, especially when it came to the defying of physics, science, and time itself. A small, ‘ Oh yeahhhh. ’ crackled from Painter’s speaker.

Your idle hand reached out to Sebastian. He tilted his head. “Gimme the file. We obviously can’t go underwater with Painter, that’s what this is for.” The manilla file was placed in your hand, promising. Trusting.

“First, we’ll have to shut off the security camera system.” It had been a long while since you were able to read something meaningful and kickstart the cogs of your thinking. Missing school from being trapped in a place like this was quite the feat. “Painter wouldn’t be hijacking it, which means actual security will be watching us. Can’t really do that walking around with you,” Your eyes diverted from the page to Sebastian. An eye roll was sent your way.

Painter’s table creaked as you leaned on it, reading further. “Conveniently, there’s a room with a switch that manages the power source. Not sure how to locate it, though.” You stepped out of Painter’s space, handing the file back to Sebastian. If someone knew their way around the facility, it was him. A curse and a blessing.

Before Sebastian could state his findings regarding directions, Painter cut him off. “Why are you helping us to this extent?” It could have come off as odd, or even rude, but you couldn't blame him for asking. Help was never a given down here, or in his existence as a whole.

“Because I know what it’s like to get left behind.” You sighed, turning to look at Painter directly. There was more reasoning to the answer, but Painter would be left to lack the knowledge — he was the only one in the room that did. The AI only blinked in understandment.

Pain blinked across your eyes, with a contemplative swallow. It felt like admitting a novel's worth of personal information, but you knew it wasn't enough to appease whatever Sebastian was thinking of. The speed at which your face contorted bitterly, then switched back to a neutral expression was stored in the back of his mind. The depth to your tone made Sebastian go quiet. A little too quiet for his liking, so he continued his studying of the file in his hands. “Okay, by the looks of it, if we keep going down the heavy containment area and take a left instead of a right, we should be able to find it.”

But Sebastian would refuse to leave it in the dirt. You hated the anxiety that sprouted in your stomach, knowing there would be a moment it would stop being a mental note. You always knew when he did.

“Then what?” 

Sebastian looked up from the file, eyes dimming. “What'd ya mean, ‘ Then what? ’ We consensually kidnap Painter and get the crystal.”

You heard an annoyed sigh from the computer. “Well, how do we get there without having to travel underwater? I thought you knew this place like the back of your hand.”

“Oh, so what, you can find this file but can’t navigate?”

“Obviously! But you have the file, and you know your way around. You’re capable enough—”

Wide eyes were drawn on Painter’s screen. You cut yourself off having remembered there was an audience of one. One, very observant computer. Typically, any bickering instances he was made aware of, or rarely witnessed between the two of you, it was only that; bickering. Instead, it was full of sarcastic smiles, and guffaws. A different glaze in your eyes. What the hell was going on?

Sebastian cleared his throat. “Keep your shirt on, I was just pressing your buttons. Of course I can figure out how to get the crystal while avoiding the Ridge and Searchlights.”

“Asshole.” You finally got to deadpan him, for once. “Alright, I’ll pack up Painter and we’ll be on our merry way.” Painter’s fans hummed as you returned to him, hands raised before temporarily disconnecting him. You raised an eyebrow.

An interjection left Painter like a moody teenager, eyes motioning in a circle; It was a wonder how expressional he could manage his limited face. “Fine! Yes, fine, unplug me. But I swear, if I find a single scratch on my drawing tablet—”

“Cool your fans,” A spirited pat to his outer casing, “I’ll be careful. We won’t see you until after we make it out of here, so…”

His expression strained, almost worried. “Oh. Yeah. You promise you will?”

“I already have, buddy,” Sebastian continued. “We’re gonna try our damndest. I have faith.” And that was worth a mountain and a half coming from him. 

Painter made the sound of an exhale. His eyes flitted around, and stopped when he arrived at a conclusion. “Yeah. Okay. See you.”

“See you on the other side.” You smiled. 

And the cord was tugged.

Chapter Text

Inviting walls, a warm bedroom, and a space of privacy. A home. It all called your name away from the sea. The sea was all you could ever get enough of. For a while, you accepted that the fantasy of a home would stay a fantasy. You’d never tell them, but the friends you made down there provided you an ounce of what that feeling was, home. They made it feel like it was real, and it was right at your fingertips. After that, you couldn’t imagine a home post-escape without them.

You didn’t want to.

Of course, you had only trudged through three more rooms after intricately removing your air tanks, with the help of Sebastian, and scooping Painter up. You were getting ahead of yourself. A part of you longed for high hopes — it began to reawaken knowing there was a collective chance out after all. The determination in Sebastian's eyes caught from your peripheral vision amplified it. 

He was getting ahead of himself, too; however, he forgot you lacked similar speeds to his, sliding quickly through each room and leaving you to heave for air. You wheezed, punching your chest as you caught up. A complaint hung on your tongue, but was quickly swallowed. Whatever happened to Sebastian to drive him with such force, a face written with ‘ I need to get the fuck out ’, must have warrented it. His claws nearly tore through the prized data he was reading simultaneously. 

The more you observed Urbanshade’s lingering effects on Sebastian, the more notes you added to your mental list of things to acknowledge after establishing a somewhat normal life with him after escaping. Freedom now, hurt later, you reminded yourself.

Rather than reaching for it, the air you needed was completely knocked out of your lungs after Sebastian came to an abrupt stop, colliding into his tail and whipping you onto your back. You somehow groaned and giggled at the same time, the thought of Sebastian leaving you gasping for air in more ways than one amusing you. 

Sebastian’s attention was pulled from the file to your stiff body, parallel to the metal floor. “Oops.”

“‘ Oops’ my ass.” You croaked, standing up and dusting off your palms against your knees. “Did you hear a candlebearer or something?”

“No, I think we make a left here.” The open file was waved in your direction, as if you could read from down below. A second glance was made towards the typed instructions before Sebastian began to turn towards an inactive door. 

Where a number would typically be displayed on a screen next to the door, three red lines took its place. Meaning it was out of order. You groaned, mimicking his movement to face the door. It was a heavy containment door too, it’s not like someone could just pry it—

Piercing creaks shot through the room, laboured grunts sourced from up above. With three arms and all his might, Sebastian wedged through the crack of the door and began yanking it open. Each pull cracked it apart more and more, until there was just enough space for him to thread his torso through and push, sliding the remainder of one side open. He took a moment to pant, then continued his path without a second thought.

Like it was nothing to him.

When Sebastian didn’t hear your footsteps along his side, he halted to see what the hold up was; You, remaining in place, with a pair of eyes wide as saucers gawking in his direction. It wasn’t your fault, the plethora of thoughts and questions that plagued your mind weighed your feet to the floor.

“Yes, I’m very strong — Lots of whale DNA. Big whoop.” Even with the lack of pupils, you could tell when Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Weren’t you the one wanting to leave as soon as possible?”

Your eyebrows cinched, a less than menacing glare sent his way. “Just— whatever. Shut up.” Even you knew any sense of intimidation was sent into the nearest parasite-filled crater. An inward grumble rumbled in your throat. 

“We both know that’s the last thing you want.” The snide comment faded away as Sebastian continued forward, unknowing. Unknowing how every word sets off buckets of sweat from your palms.

Deep, rigid claw marks on the door were caught in the corner of your eye, slowing your pace from following in suit. It matched the countless marks you found strewn across the facility's interior. A sweltering sensation rose your neck. The excuse, meant for nobody but you and your dignity, of the Blacksite’s poor temperature maintenance would have to do. 

Sebastian’s esca cut through the darkness ahead, which continued as the rooms shifted back into hallways lined with side offices and desks. His bright glow wrapped around both of you with a subtle warmth. It was remarkable, you thought, how it managed to blanket your face meters away. The luminance shone vividly against the steel lockers, chairs, and drawers you passed by, standing in silent testament to forgotten premonitions. It wouldn’t be long before you located the security CCTV power source.

The blue light around Sebastian’s face dimmed as he squinted, reading the file with precise comprehension. “I think…” Suddenly, without further explanation, he made a right into a dark corridor, leaving you to stand in confusion.

Constant exposure to the dark didn’t entirely abolish your fear of it, so you quickly scampered to follow Sebastian without a guide. You maneuvered through what was hopefully the right direction, glancing around frantically. Out of all the times you explored without a source of light, now was not the time for a wall dweller feast on your flesh. 

“You asshole, my flashlight is dead and I’m not—” A wall of cold scales blocked you from jogging any further, thudding into your shoulder. You looked around to try and face Sebastian, the rest of your scolding put on hold, but you were met with the feeling of a closed file folder unceremoniously tapping your forehead. 

“Here. The power switch is here.” Sebastian pivoted, allowing his esca to freely shine. It revealed a closed, functioning maintenance door. “But you gotta go in and turn it off. I’m sure it's surrounded by electricity-infested waters, and I’m not what you’d call nimble.”

The motion sensored-door clicked open as you walked towards it, peeking inside to a sight of a large room flooded with water. Bright sparks infiltrated the water’s surface, surrounding numerous pipes, wooden planks, and any other building hazards left to rot. At the opposite wall sat a large switch, green light emanating onto the charged waters. The amalgamation of materials seemed to be your only solution to crossing the room safely. 

You huffed, turning to give Sebastian a tired look. He sent a toothy grin. 

Profanities were mumbled under your breath. The room started with a concrete platform, raised enough to avoid the water thus far. You stepped forward, looking around to gauge the most stable way to reach the power switch. Darkness shrouded most of the space, increasing your chances of a ricocheted spark hitting your leg.

Sebastian seemed to sense your internally-calculated worry. “I’ll stay here at the control panels to light the room. Scared?” A clawed hand was placed on your back, gently nudging you to the side. His touch curled around your waist for the splittest of seconds. 

“Not as scared as I’ll be when we face HQ,” Thick, wooden planks creaked beneath each step you took, leaving Sebastian’s vicinity with an increased heartbeat. Green pipes acted as steps towards a second platform situated at the side of the room, leading to more rickety pipes and industrial wood pallets. 

Eventually, your boots met concrete once more, standing at a large switch. The engravement at the top of the switch labelling ‘CCTV Power Switch’ went unreadable as you yanked it down with two hands. A powering down sound echoed deeply through the walls, the electricity amongst the water leaving with it. You were infinitely thankful it did when you lifted a foot to step down the moment Sebastian sneezed, temporarily cutting out his esca’s light. Instead of a sturdy surface, your legs were submerged in frigid waters — knee deep.

Once light returned to the flooded room’s confines, Sebastian was met with an annoyed glare. 

You stepped up onto the plank you originally planned to, treading carefully back to where he remained with drenched legs. “You— how do you sneeze? You don’t have a nose as far as I’m aware.”

“Gills.” An equally annoyed sigh.

You merely responded with a crinkle of your eyebrows.

“I know. Trust me, I know.”

Navigating the next tens of rooms relied solely on Sebastian’s judgement, which you trusted more than anything. More than your own. Normal ceiling lights returned to functionality, a curse and a blessing. A blessing you could steer through each room without knocking into something, or someone, but a curse of knowing when the next bloodthirsty monster would scrape by.

Speaking of the devil, an instant sense of flight — and only flight — flared in your chest as you watched the lights flicker above. Before you could scramble to the observation room you had passed by a room prior, Sebastian beat you to it, hooking a hand around your collar and making a beeline for it; You in hand like a pathetic, soggy kitten.

An enraged Angler rushed past the room, outputting the ceiling lights for the next few rooms; Indifferent from any other instance. You wobbled a bit after being placed back onto the concrete floor, feeling Sebastian tug the material on your back to adjust it. He moved a few inches behind to let you go first, since you didn’t have lengths of a whale tail to thread through the doorway. You heard an exhaled laugh after sending a small smile his way. Little things. It was always the little things.

Only now did you notice the lack of red, blinking lights in the corner of each room, security cameras now lifeless with each hallway. Dear god, was he heavy, you thought, groaning uncomfortably at the dull back pain carrying Painter brought.

“Don’t worry, you won’t have to essentially carry him any longer,” Sebastian’s movements paused in the middle of a room divided by large platforms, an expansive, metal bridge connecting the two. “We gotta travel through the ceiling to get the crystal head-on, and I’ll have to pick you up. It’s like a monkey bar from hell up there.”

Pick you up? Pick you up and carry you? Was it Sebastian’s birthday or yours? “Alright. And how would we get in the ceiling?” You broke your focus from the vastness of the open space below the bridge to Sebastian’s own focus at the familiarized folder in his hand, seemingly getting an answer for your question. 

“Janitor’s closets. The ceilings were built with passage systems, starting from there, in case of a lockdown. Example number one,” A gesture outwards. “Closet door frames are coloured green to indicate so. Luckily for us, I think there’s one over there.” Sebastian tilted his head, analyzing a door on the left of the opposite platform. 

The bridge strained from Sebastian's weight, who wasted no time crossing it. He subtly glanced over his shoulder to make sure you were, too. Always making sure. Sebastian was not… entirely sure why he was. Sure, his security now rested in your hands. There was no sense of betrayal or abandonment afoot. Never with you, he was sure of it. Why was he so sure of it?

Despite the door’s number sign displaying no signs of power, Sebastian forced it open with little effort. He eyed a ceiling panel that sat square in the center, the cracks around it ever so slightly thicker. Dust and powder sifted onto his coat from the gypsum panel being shifted to the side. Again, Sebastian left without a word, slinking into the ceiling space. 

Your nose was hit with the stuffy smell of dust and mold, walking into the closet, confusedly standing beneath the dark square. “Hello—? What happened to picking me—”

One moment, you were standing on safe, unwavering linoleum. On another, your entire body was grappled into the air, a firm hand hooking around your waist. A shocked yelp left your throat, understanding what trout must feel like during fishing season. Sebastian had you hanging for a quick second, before reeling you up into the ceiling. He hiked you up once more, adjusting so his hold resembled one of a damsel in distress; An arm around your torso, pressing your side to his, while you dangled like dead weight. 

“Impatient much?” Sebastian grinned, with possibly the most smug tone you’ve ever heard him use.

Both of your hands gripped to his forearm like a vice, looking around your new environment. “Was— was this really necessary?” The concealed space was narrow, but enough for Sebastian to comfortably maneuver through. It must have risen hundreds of meters high into pitch black, with large, worn pipes running down the walls. Hissing of steam filled the ambience. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought the face you made when I came up with the idea was enough of an answer.” He snickered, responding without needing to see your initial face. Sebastian began to move through the straight pathway, tightening his claws around the fabric of your jumpsuit. “It only leads straight, which is where we need to go anyway. I’d say in a hundred meters we’ll hit the control room. I’ll put the crystal in the container they gave you, re-enter the ceiling to go back to the control room — give them the effect that we hit the Ridge and so forth — and leave through the provided exit door. Any questions?”

“No, Mr. Know-it-All.” You don’t remember the last time you had faced someone with this level of comprehension, compared to all the mindless, boisterous criminals seeking their own freedom with Urbanshade. Their unruly behaviour towards someone like you, was certainly remembered.

“Y’know, you don’t give yourself enough credit either.” Sebastian ducked his head under a sizable pipe. 

“Really?”

“No.”

Periodically, the pipes around you and the panels Sebastian trekked on would rumble, indicating Angler or anything alike making their rounds. The sound would automatically tick your nervous system off, your body language tensing in fear. Sebastian would hoist you up an inch in those moments. Whatever sarcastic remark that formulated in his mind dissipated just as hastily. He understood the lasting effects Urbanshade and their creations could have on a soul, more than anyone. 

A dead end in the distance crept closer, until Sebastian lifted the ceiling panel before it and slithered out. His hold on you remained until he plopped you down with both hands in the crook of your armpits. Like you were the creature. The flap of your bag containing Painter was lifted, Sebastian taking a peak to ensure no valuables were left behind. 

Taking in your surroundings and tuning out HQ’s automated P.A. system message, you were in one of the four corners of the Urbanshade Control Room. Countless desks and lockers patterned the room, and the center floor embellished with the company logo. Lights blinked and beeped from the control panels adorning the edge, where you were met with a bright red ‘Blacksite Lockdown’ sign, listing off Sebastian’s actions that led up until now. He glared at it too, with rage that radiated off of him.

“Wait—” A surge of anxiety flashed through your nerves. “Don’t they need you to power something once you take the crystal? An External Repellent battery or something? How are you gonna get back here?”

Sebastian's recent conversation with you answered his question regarding your detailed knowledge. This wasn’t your first run, he remembered. You would have left with the crystal eons ago. “Again, I’m just gonna leave through a closet ceiling panel. The file says there’s one located in the outer crystal room. HQ must only state that for those who aren’t aware of the ceiling evacuation system. Poor bastards gotta manually power their way back.”

You sighed with relief. “Oh— okay. I was ready to shit my pants.”

“I thought you did.” Sebastian made his way to the staircase leading to the chasm, watching the large, industrial door crank open. The crystal container Urbanshade provided you was lifted out of its holster on the small of your back. “Stay here. I’ll be back in a sec’.”

‘You promise?’  was a question left unsaid, a hesitant nod taking its place. Soon, the door closed shut, leaving Sebastian on his own. Quicker than you’d like to admit, you jogged back to the large window encompassing the front of the control room, watching Sebastian approach the end of the chasm with a tight feeling in your chest — one you knew wouldn’t cease for a while. The large Urbanshade logo overseeing the bridge was intimidating. Menacing, almost.

Trepidation surged through your bloodstream for no other reason than to pose as an inconvenience. 

But on a deeper level, you knew your concern for him was endless.

To keep yourself at bay, you sauntered around the room, spotting any data or equipment scattered across the abandoned desks. It didn’t work. You still felt the unnecessary churn in your stomach and the jitters that began in your fingertips.

Perhaps time could pass easily by reading files. (As easy as it could get.) The closest document fell victim to your silent reading time. You began reading the first page. It was something about pipes, and what each colour indicated. Air pressure, temperature, something, blah, blah, blah . It was as if all literary skills were sucked into the nearest void locker. You still felt frozen .

It was cold. It was so cold in the room, yet you were sweating without restraint. Your palms were clammy and trembling, a feeling you had gotten used to in the Blacksite. But you hated it nonetheless. You sat on a black office chair to your left, gripping the armrests as if they would reassure you. Reassure you, Sebastian was okay. Why wouldn’t he be?

He was only finally, finally, getting his mutated hands on that damn crystal, having to realize at one moment or another that he was finally getting the fuck out of here. Finally, letting the knowledge that escape from these wretched halls sat at the tip of his claws, granted a second chance at living—

“Don’t tell me you had a stroke the moment I leave you alone for ten minutes.” Sebastian raised an eyebrow, laying a hand on the back of your chair. “I mean, I get it, you can’t live without me. Or did you see something that managed to spook you to death?”

Worrying about you almost did. “No— shut up, no. I was just thinking.” You stood from your seat, adjusting your waistband. “So you got the crystal?”

“You seem to do a lot of that. And no, I just wanted to look at it and fill you in on my observations.” The sarcastic remark was nothing new coming from Sebastian, but his eyes had a new glaze. You’d never seen a sweet crinkle around them before. It left a lasting impression on the front of your soul, knowing that you did the same for him.

It was a sight so sickeningly addictive. You wanted to see more of that, and knew each high would only be more euphoric. 

Because slowly, he was letting you in. Slowly.

The stiff air was broken by your laughter, deep and vivid. You left Sebastian to linger with a look you could only hope effectively communicated limitless longing. It worked; he continued to stare holes into the back of your head as you shrugged past him with a shake of your head. So many words, and yet, none at all. They all died in his throat. 

Sebastian knew how your lips felt from those exhilarating five seconds, but not how you felt. Or himself, for that matter. Bashing his head into a locker felt more tempting than it ever had. 

The empty light next to the exit door now shone with a bright green, your movements coming to a halt a few meters away. Your stare against the steel was unwavering; As if the door shared it. Your heart pulled at the reins of your mind, tugging, yanking, anything , to move forward. But you couldn’t budge, paralyzing anxiety shot through your limbs.

“C’mon, we’ve waited long enough.” Sebastian tilted his head in an attempt to match your gaze. He was only met with silence. “Cold feet?”

You felt the rumble of the voice from behind, but you weren’t entirely there to hear it. “ You’ve waited long enough. And… I guess. Well, not really. I don’t know.” For what must have been the hundredth time, you pocketed your hands in contemplation. 

Sebastian noticed. “You don’t know?”

“I don’t know.” Your voice wobbled; Almost as if you were scared. 

“Don’t let freedom scare itself away.” Sebastian moved closer to the door, setting off the motion sensor and letting it slide open. The last time you’d hear that noise, after thousands. “I’m not gonna hold your hand. Do it scared, like everything else you’ve done.”

Like everything else you’ve done. Pushing yourself through endless runs. Facing monsters that would have petrified the ones in your childhood bedroom closet. Somehow worming your way into Sebastian’s good graces. Letting someone in.

The submarine perched at the front of the exit port called your name. Not prisoner, nor expendable, but your name. 

With a hold of your breath and clenched palms, you strided over to the dock. Your boots thudded against the metal of the submarine, sitting on one of the vehicle's benches. Sebastian followed you in, leaning on the back wall and cramming the rest of his tail inside, until the door sealed shut. The wall adjacent seemed to catch his attention the most, a complicated look in his eyes.

They trailed back to you with another unreadable look as you leaned forward, reaching for his hair. A dust bunny had gotten caught in the dark strands from travelling through the ceiling. The inner dialogue in your mind argued with itself, panicking and sounding alarms for the fraction that permitted an impulsive arm to reach for one of Sebastian’s most vulnerable parts. You weren’t sure if your face needed to be centimeters apart to pluck the dust out, but he seemed to face a similar dilemma. 

Sebastian’s mind ordered his body to duck, retreat, anything, but the commands had yet to bear fruit.

“Dust in your hair.” A mumble. His only response was a hum. Quiet, but defensive and muddled.

Standing from afar in his shop, you never wasted a chance to catch a fleeting glance of Sebastian’s face. It was hard to believe someone could be so beautiful, so enticing, and yet here he was. It was the first time you were able to admire such a sight up close — the last moment you shared in the shop spun your mind much too fast to savour, and soak it in. Soak him in.

The curve of his muted nose bridge, dark eye bags, and his furrowed, annoyed eyebrows. He was that beautiful. You nearly lose yourself in the moment, the sounds of the submarine traversing through deep waters muffled. And when you gently graze your fingertips against his scalp to pick out the fuzz, you catch a glimpse of Sebastian’s tail moving behind you with a slow wag — completely at odds with his irritated demeanor, but awfully endearing.

The urge to press every inch of your skin against his grew far too enveloping. 

Sebastian would never admit the feeling of loss when you had sat back down, tossing the piece of fuzz off to the side. He watched you sling your Painter-filled bag onto the floor with little force, grasping your pant legs between your fingers. 

Deep down, Sebastian would consider this one of the best moments of his life.

Mr. Lopee’s administrative leverage no longer mattered; even with Sebastian’s lingering curiosities regarding his motives, he had no authority to control and manipulate anymore. He escaped hell on earth after thirteen years of bodily experiments and being crammed into a body that never had his name on it. Thirteen years of getting used to a new body, when he shouldn’t have. Flashbacks of the torture he endured looped in his mind. It was something Sebastian would never wish on another soul — Mr. Shade was the exception; if you could say he had one. 

It was thirteen years of adapting to this new identity. Alone.

But the tiniest fraction of that hole in his heart regenerated. So small that Sebastian nearly missed it. 

Part of him didn’t want to believe it was because of you. You managed to wedge yourself into Sebastian’s life, possibly forever. Something so sickening, so frightening, was cherished in your grasp. It wasn’t too soft, but not overly crass, no — Your regard was just enough. Enough to form a bond he would typically not allow for his own safety. He would spend the rest of his life questioning how he found himself tied around your finger, because he was so confident that those fragments of humanity left in him had dissipated years ago.

It was a peaceful quiet that submerged the submarine. Not the kind associated with the calm before the storm. Not one that narrates essays. Sebastian watched small bubbles rise against the submarine window just behind your shoulder. The steady motion of the machine lulled him to a somewhat calm state. 

His mind played devil's advocate, however. One, very concrete thought engraved itself into the front of his consciousness: You made him question if the life he had been subjected to within Urbanshade’s cage allowed him to deserve someone like you. Someone willing to put up with stone walls and bitchy attitudes. 

A punishment, not an unfortunate hand of cards. Sebastian would never be the high card, that he knew.

But he would never say that out loud.

Not over his dead, monstrous body.

Chapter Text

It's not like you expected Sebastian to wear his heart on his sleeve. Developing what was considered the toughest of emotional walls was crucial to withstand whatever Sebastian had, and under no circumstance could you blame him.

But by god, was he hard to read.

Pure silence was the only thing keeping you company besides Sebastian, situated in the submarine across from you. Every now and then, you’d discreetly steal glances at his face and stance, silently attempting to translate the wordless language he put out. There was a slight pull to his eyebrows, but you couldn’t recall a time when there wasn’t. His two upper hands were wound shut together in his lap, while the third fed coat fabric through his claws. And his eyes, oh those eyes , could only stare at his hands in deep thought. Very, deep thought.

But there was one common factor currently drowning his entire being; Sebastian was incredibly tense. More tense than he usually was. The sight of his antsy demeanor and nearly unnoticeable fidgets told you one thing:

Sebastian was scared.

Making that unspoken revelation simulated the sensation of someone wringing your heart out. You hadn't got a single clue why you felt so much for Sebastian, all these feelings trickling from his soul and into yours. Maybe you saw yourself in him, or had pieces of yourself worthy enough to fit into him. Maybe, the existing pieces of both of you could come together and form as one. What you did know was that if Urbanshade weren’t the ones to decimate you, empathy was.

All you could ask of Sebastian was not to fear the road to healing, or at least the first few steps. The only things he owed you were the things he owed himself. You could only hope he’d grant you leeway. But it didn’t matter how far you got; As long as he didn’t fear you. God knows the last thing he needed was more fear.

Confronting Urbanshade, anticipating a new life, living that new life with a new body. All of these possibilities, being the source of his fear, seemed more than credible. All of the above, perhaps.

So you did what you knew best for a person like Sebastian; Letting him know you were in the same boat. Sebastian’s attention was immediately caught by your movement of standing up and stepping closer, until you sat next to him on the steel bench. Not a word was mumbled, neither did you look him in the eye. In fact, your head was angled away as you raised a gentle hand to clutch at the sleeve of his third arm. You were letting him know that you were scared too. 

Fear was better handled together, rather than suffocating in the feeling of being stranded on an island. You knew that feeling all too well to know Sebastian was feeling it at that moment. The next ten seconds, lacking any comment or rejection, proved your observations correct.

Sebastian could only stare at the hand you laid on his arm with an absurd level of intent. Your fingers purposely missed his skin or the array of bloody bandages. Your hold was firm enough to speak your intentions without a word: 1. Your help was granted to Sebastian’s reach, and he was granted that choice of when he wished to use it. 2. You were scared, too. And you were willing to share it so he wouldn’t feel isolated. For once, he didn’t. He wondered if you were aware of the chaos you erupted in his mind, watching the submarine’s interior lights. 

For the duration of the voyage, you sat next to Sebastian. 

His presence also helped to level your immense urge to puke, your gut sickly swirling with anxiety and queasiness. 

Sebastian wasn’t doing any better himself, his head heavy and swaying, as if filled to the brim with water and hooked with a weight he could barely fathom. A tightness stitched up his throat. You can’t cry, he scolded himself. Not ever.

After a strangling twenty minutes, a soft beep rang throughout the submarine, signaling that the vehicle had surfaced from the water’s depths. You were the first to leave your seat, hauling the Painter-contained bag over your shoulder and weaving your feet around lengths of tail to wait at the hatch. The familiar sight of the lobby met your sight once it had opened, but there was no trace of further vitality. It was deathly empty. 

There was an obvious hesitancy to Sebastian’s demeanor, how he had watched you step out from the hatch and wait on the dock. The only thing you could make out from the now powered-down submarine were his eyes, dimmed and squinted. Hunched and cornered. Like a frightened, stray cat in the depths of a city alley. A more than common visual Sebastian displayed.

“Do it scared.”

His eyes motioned towards you, thinned to slits. “I’m not—”

“C’mon.” You turned your head to look at the lobby’s vastness, then back to Sebastian. A silent plea. Always silent, waiting.

The vivid turquoise glow of his eyes dimmed completely, until three hands clasped the edge of the hatch’s frame, anchoring the rest of Sebastian’s weight out and onto the platform. A deep, almost strained sigh left his chest. When you hadn’t started to move forward to lead the way, Sebastian’s eyebrows scrunched, tilting his head ever so slightly. A curt nod, gesturing to. 

You shook your head. It was his time. This was his moment. A moment that not a single soul could strip away from him, for once. Beating around the bush of feelings would benefit no one; You felt fucking awful for him. You had hoped the knowingness clouding your eyes had gotten your point across, blinking wearily. 

If you cared so deeply that it split your heart, then so be it. You were willing to cradle a lifetime of pain, just to place a single shard of it where Sebastian might see.

He, too, blinked knowingly. 

Meters of scales scraped past you, leading a trail for you to follow. Your trekking began to Sebastian’s right, just a foot behind. Past the familiar case of stairs, the parked military turret-car, benches, and industrial lights. These were visuals that either of you would never witness again. The plethora of rooms, hallways, and doors, sardonic monsters stemmed from the midst of poor choices, tools and wares — and the haunting ambience that strung it all together. Any traces left of inhumanity left in the blacksite would be kicked to the dirt, and left to rot with the worms — apart from the walking example of those actions slithering to your left.

Past a large Urbanshade cargo crate, rows of benches, and abandoned forklifts, sat a door in the corner of the area, the second to have a green light. Once Sebastian got close enough, it slid open to reveal a staircase leading up. You’d complain about the energy required to reach the top if it weren’t for the parasites of nerves gnawing on your stomach.

Being the flexible amalgamation of creature DNA he is, Sebastian crawled up the rails without using a single step, leaving you to manually climb the stairs with thirty-five pounds of Painter on your back. You mourned the unsaid joke you made about the AI needing to lay off website cookies.

Sebastian was nice enough to wait for you at the top, amidst your tired huffs and groans. Nearing the peak of the staircase was an empty room attached to a spacious hallway. It seemed to wind left, which meant it was windy overall. But you didn’t care anymore. After exploring so many rooms and hallways, taking note didn’t matter anymore. The clench of Sebastian's jaw and his webbed ears pinning against his skull replaced that useless information anyway.

The final door of your journey ended the lengthy hallway, adorned with a red trim and a glowing sign that read, ‘ HQ OFFICE’ . You and Sebastian met eyes with HQ the moment the metal door opened. It was a long, rectangular-shaped room with tinted glass, facing a panel with numerous blinking buttons and switches. An internal ohhh sounded in your head, identifying an articulated microphone next to a red intercom button.

Coming in contact with the room you’ve imagined for ages temporarily distracted you from HQ’s outburst at Sebastian’s presence.

“Wha—!” HQ quickly got up from his swivel chair, knocking it back to the point of rolling into the nearest desk. “What the hell are you doing here—?! I have half a mind to kill you right now!”

Sebastian could easily identify the threat as empty, noticing the fear in his eyes. He slithered into the room, inching closer. “Why, because my performances on the intercom garner more attention than you’ll ever get?”

“I’m sick of your jokes. It’s a promise, not a threat.” HQ fumed, although shuffling a few steps back, holding an idle hand over his utility belt.

A loud, condescending bark erupted from Sebastian. “And how do you think you’ll kill me, jabbing a flashlight to my head? You really think you stand a chance?” More laughter arose from Sebastian, and it was nothing but genuine. Genuine, full-chested laughter.

The boisterous laughter scared HQ dry of any additional comebacks, the room falling silent. 

And yeah, you stood there witnessing the tense confrontation a little sweatier than usual.

Any question regarding the crystal’s successful retrieval strung through the air, so Sebastian decided to take initiative. He abrasively unhooked the crystal canister from his hip, yellow light spilling from the cracks. It was hovering above HQ’s face, a scarring scowl taking over Sebastian’s. “I earned my fucking freedom, and it won’t be death from you lowlife cunts.”

The room fell impossibly quieter. Other than Sebastian’s snarling, other breaths were tightly held to the confines of struggling lungs. 

“Sebastian got the crystal.” You chimed in, stepping closer to the pair sternly. “We both got here. We’re both getting out.”

HQ scoffed, crossing his arms. “It’s up to Urbanshade himself to decide how these formalities will play out. Besides, who’s to say you didn’t get the crystal and handed it to him?”

“The crystal room’s backup security footage. Go ahead and pull it up for me.” Sebastian cocked his head to the multitude of security screens at a nearby desk, holding the crystal off to his side.

Backup security footage? Sebastian must have purposefully left that out of the plan to secure raw footage of his credibility.

Another few seconds of tension-filled staring, before HQ cracked and returned to his chair, taking a seat and rolling over to the CCTV security screens, showcasing a few operating camera screens. The rest could only show lifeless, black screens. Oops.

The most recent footage of the crystal before it had disappeared from the recording was rewound, and wouldn’t you know it, Sebastian was seen yanking a large lever down and pulling the crystal from its cylindrical glass. It was tucked into the canister Sebastian currently held in his hand until he disappeared from frame.

“No exception.” You leaned against the desk of CCTV security footage screens, tone as cold as ice.

HQ’s eyes flickered between yours and Sebastian’s, reluctant and stony. “Fine— fuck, fine. I’ll call him. But I can’t make any promises.” He kicked off the floor to roll where an intercom office phone sat on the main desk. A few buttons were pressed while he brought the phone up to his ear, a faint ringing tone emanating from the room. 

Visions of red blinded the views of both you and Sebastian, once the other line picked up. A gravelly, sickening voice began speaking. A single voice, where most of your problems, and all of Sebastian’s, are rooted. Your chest flashed with anger, looking over to Sebastian, whose claws were a millimeter away from slicing through the skin of his scarred palms. There wasn’t a strong enough word to describe how angry he was, knowing that Mr. Shade was at the end of the call, somewhere near. He wanted to kill that bastard. Brutally.

Other than HQ’s initial explanation of the unexpected scenario at hand, quiet responses such as ‘ Yes,’ , ‘They are technically a search party.’, and ‘Okay, I will let them know.’ were spoken. 

It was the most unnerving five minutes of your life.

The moment goodbyes were exchanged, and the phone was pressed shut to its panel, HQ was met with wide, unwavering eyes — as if he had intel on the next lottery’s winning numbers. To you, it felt like it. Despite his tired, almost bored face, HQ’s next few words determined whether or not the queasiness in your gut would remain in your gut.

“Boss said you two are technically eligible for a pardon, retrieving the crystal and all that. So… you’re free to go.” 

You choked on your breath. “We’re free? Oh my god, we’re free. ” Legs wobbling, you stepped back in disbelief. A mild ring pierced your ears, frantically looking at Sebastian. “You’re free.”

His unbothered demeanor wasn’t faring very well, throat bobbing in tight swallows, and his eyebrows knitted. “I’m… I’m free.”

“On a few conditions,” HQ added, crossing his arms. “He organized a deal between you and the entirety of Urbanshade to ensure… company reputation.”

You raised an eyebrow. ‘Go on.”

“We will fully fund housing, living necessities, insurance, and luxuries for the rest of your lives. Regarding your circumstances, we will transport you to an accommodating property,” He elaborated.

This time, Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Full financial support? What’s the catch?” Tone thick with apprehension.

“You must remain confidential about everything you have been subjected to in the confines of Urbanshade. Classification is mandatory.”

Collective scoffs came from you and Sebastian. You mirrored the stance of crossed arms. “So, we won’t be living off the grid, but Sebastian can no longer interact with the rest of society?”

“Correct.” An awkward cough. “His orders, not mine. No room for negotiation.”

Sebastian was never the extroverted type in the first place, but a tightness continued to wind in his chest. Urbanshade had managed to establish itself as a permanent casualty in his life. Even in freedom, there they stood, instilling a sense of surveillance in every moment he spent and will spend. But controlled freedom was better than no freedom at all. He stood with a glazed expression.

A smaller hand pulled on the edge of his coat. Sebastian met your gaze, bittersweet and hopeful. Ah, right, you. That last sense of humanity he had, besides the one he struggled to uplift in himself. You shared looks of agreement, knowing it was for the better. For the better, but never the best.

You were being granted a reliable living space. A personal space to feel the aftermath of everything, with Sebastian. A home with Sebastian. If you had told your past self from merely a month ago the situation you’d gotten yourself in, you would have laughed for days on end.

“An employee will be here shortly with your confiscated property from when you first entered prison,” HQ explained, turning to you, then facing Sebastian. “We don’t really… have your things on record. But you do need to remove the remaining assets strapped to your person.”

You barely caught a, ‘Of course you fucking don’t.’ , muttered from your left. An IPhone from twelve years ago would be rendered outdated and useless now, but still, they hadn’t given Sebastian a single goddamn chance .

HQ stepped towards the door, leaning a single hand on the frame. “Just organize your stuff before coming down, there’ll be a signaled door to enter with a flight of stairs. This’ll lead you to an additional dock with a submarine, and it’ll get you to the surface. From there, you’ll be transported in a shuttle bus to the location of Urbanshade’s choice.” He stepped back before disappearing completely. “Good work.”

Echoing steps descended, until it was deathly quiet once again. You unlatched your hand from Sebastian’s coat and sat down on the now-empty office chair, clutching your pants with sweaty palms. You watched Sebastian move around agitatedly, inhaling and huffing before thrashing his tail into a few server towers, crumpling them inwards.

You winced. “I know, it’s not ideal—”

“Not ideal —?!” Sebastian laughed bitterly, ranting as he unstrapped the items on his tail and tossed them on the floor. “Those fuckers took liberty over my own life, and I have no choice but to let them get away with it, scott-fucking free!” An angry thud reverberated around the room as he unhooked the SCRAMBLER from his back, loud pops sounding from his back as he stretched.

“Sebast—”

“You hear that shit?” He continued to shout maniacally, turning to the windows facing the blacksite’s lobby. “I’m in constant pain from what they did to me, ‘Not ideal ’, they have every right to suffer a torturous death and fucking rot. From what they did to all of us.”

Your lack of response had Sebastian pivoting back around to face you. He seemed to shrink a bit, being met with a cowardly look and eyes that were ever so slightly wet. As much as you loathed the thought of making him feel worse, making him feel like a monster, abrupt episodes of anger never treated you well. You felt ashamed to display your fear.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” You mumbled. Sebastian immediately opened his mouth to retaliate, but you pointed a finger up in a ‘wait’ gesture. “I know I will never, ever, understand exactly what you went through. And you’re right, you deserve justice.”

You paused, testing the waters to see if Sebastian would wait and listen. He was.

Slowly, you continued. “But you made it out. Alive. Use that anger, turn it into spite. Spite them by thriving. Show them that their biggest loss is your biggest accomplishment.” The last thing you wanted was for Sebastian to succumb to his emotions and become the monster that made him who he was today.

Sebastian didn’t see himself as you did, which may never happen. In his mind, that blindness built countless walls between self-value and prioritization. You hoped you could make a home from those walls, just enough to tear it down with one swift blow. These words were your way of telling him that life wasn’t always deplorable. However, it was nearly impossible with PTSD like Sebastian’s — Trauma that commanded him to act with hate and vitriol with every person he encountered. Trauma to put up a facade of disingenuousness, whether sarcasm or friendliness.

You lost count of how many times you refused to blame him. It was only sensible with what he’d endured.

It was also your way of negating advice that applied to you too. That pattern was never new to you, dishing out aid and advice from the bottom of your heart, but never worthy enough to hear it yourself. It was always spoken, yet fell on your deaf ears. Sebastian was the kind of person tentative enough to pick up on this, which scared you. Immensely.

“I— Yeah, I know what you mean,” Sebastian carefully leaned back onto a desk behind him, scratching his arm. “Listen, I uh… I was just—”

“Here’s your stuff, Expendable.” A person wearing an Urbanshade-type work uniform entered holding a sizable plastic box. They placed it on the ground with little care and exited just as lazily.

Hearing that single, measly word made a sickness twist in your stomach. That retired title still managed to piss you off; being seen as a number, a resource, not a person. You’d be damned to let Urbanshade grasp at your sense of humanity, too.

You crouched down to lift the box’s lid and sift through your belongings that had been confiscated just over a year ago. Your phone, a charger to go with it, a few hundred-dollar bills, and now useless house keys. A new wardrobe was to be purchased, you noted, not quite fond of keeping your jumpsuit for memories. Carefully, you placed your bag down and lifted Painter from its confines, settling his bulky pieces inside the box discreetly — the box was just large enough to fit his additional technology. You warmly smiled at the small, ‘Almost there buddy.’ that was barely audible from beside you.

“Okay,” The box was shifted into your hold and raised as you stood, exhaling. You shared a longing gaze with Sebastian, who seemed to be hit with the reality of said reality only now. “Let’s get out of here.”

This time, you led the way to the designated submarine, and there was most certainly a kick to your step. Sebastian had to brutally fight himself to stop smiling at how you practically beamed. But both of you were in an unforgettable moment, the in-between of a new era; How could you not? You did what you had pledged to complete long ago: Beat Urbanshade’s game and leave with those you had promised. You were easy to forget that Dionysian drive of violence and cruelty.

You stepped onto a submarine after Sebastian comfortably situated his tail around the interior, placing a box of importance on the ground next to your boots, the sounds of swaying waters nearby, and nautical lights illuminating the steel walls; It all felt a little too familiar.

Only this time, there was a light at the end of the tunnel. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but after dwelling in the depths for so long, it was what you needed. No longer would you face frightening creatures of the deep, endless hallways, or a constant sense of danger; Not awake, at least. 

Those horrors would plague all three of you; You knew that much.

But it was over.

It was over — over and left behind, just as it should have been in the first place.

A tight swallow sat in your throat, your gaze fleeting between Sebastian and water, concealing the sight of the Hadal Blacksite more and more, until there was only thick murkiness. The knowledge that you had successfully escaped the underwater facility and somehow won Sebastian over, even if he’d loathe to admit it, would stick with you for eternity. 

You made a home of your casket, and you fucking seized it.

Chapter Text

Sebastian’s life was now permanently divided; life before and after Urbanshade — the in-between would rather be forgotten. He was a new person, and his old life had no choice but to be abandoned to the rifts of time.

That, and the fact he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, were thoughts that grappled to his mind like a vice; even after a gruelling twelve-hour flight, departing from the Vágar Airport, in an Urbanshade military transport aircraft.

The lengthy ride on the shuttle bus afterwards granted him plenty of time to gaze upon the outdoors, nature that he hadn’t seen in over a decade. Trees, grass, and the sun beckoned him closer. Sebastian was even situated against a large tempered window on the right side of the bus, his tail taking up the majority of the bus’s back space. He could have spent the ride with his chest full and eyes full of a feeling he ought to learn. Watching the world, and how much it has turned without him.

Instead, he took his time contemplating. Contemplating you. The reserved space for his unit of a body forced you to sit at the front of the bus’s left. Your head bumped along the bus as it rested against the window adjacent, gazing endlessly at the road ahead.

Unknowing.

A significant change of pace and scenery was a big shift for Sebastian, of course, he’d be reluctant and lacking. His mind was anywhere but that shuttle bus. It lingered in the halls of the Hadal Blacksite, materializing memories of the shop, piles of manila folders and intel, lockers, and— and you. You? What the hell?

Why would he miss experiencing you in that abyss of fire and brimstone?

That facility was nothing but torture and endless horrors. Not a single soul was spared a moment of peace, you were no exception. Sleepless nights and hours of sifting through useless data files and USB drives picked at each thread of Sebastian’s sanity; whatever was left of it after Urbanshade let their control falter. It was endlessly draining. Sure, when you’d manage to reach his shop alive enough to spark up a meaningful conversation, it made those nights dissipate from his back and a calm air fell over the room, but it was nothing necessary to recall— Oh.

Enduring what shouldn’t even be considered a life down in those depths made your periodic visits feel like the highest high Sebastian had ever felt. And he missed it. He was going to miss those highs.

But why? Why should he feel the need to miss your saving grace through a period of his life that had stripped away more than just his twenties? Sebastian’s life shouldn’t have required a saving grace in the first place, and he didn’t need you being a walking, talking reminder of it. (Apart from his existence as a whole, Sebastian didn’t think he’d ever fully unsheathe Urbanshade from his identity.)

The thought sat with Sebastian, marinating in his head while his focus remained on your back. His bright eyes squinted in frustration. And from the light the day granted, pricking through the gaps of leaves and branches passing by in a blurred moment. It was one of many inconveniences Sebastian realized he took for granted.

Almost, did he admit to himself that he feared taking you for granted, and your rooted efforts towards him and Painter. Taking your kiss for granted. He almost forgot about that.

Sebastian also feared that the only thing solidifying his… light regard for you was the sudden attachment to your kindness. Kindness that was delivered to him as a three-course meal after twelve years on an empty stomach.

Rough palms met Sebastian’s eyes, rubbing them with frustration. Small and helpless was a loathed feeling he thought he’d leave behind for good. Urbanshade subjected him to hell beyond belief, so that an ounce of kindness felt like a hook to his heart that he couldn’t unlatch. Helpless, helpless, helpless.

Sebastian did not forget that the two of you will be living together for the rest of his foreseeable future. Your foreseeable future. He wondered if it was possible to dance around the kiss he initiated, and the can of emotional worms it opened. You were to blame. What did you expect to come out of holding a creature of vice and grotesqueness in your hold so gently? Exposing the deepest parts of your care to someone who hadn’t known he needed it?

Scraping together fragments left of a normal life to survive the Hadal Blacksite was no longer required. No shop, no designated hideout, no sacrifice and drainage of Sebastian’s soul — only time to reflect, with you and Painter. Periodic meltdowns and low lows he typically suffered silently would forcefully limit his privacy. Suffering, Sebastian himself chose to ignore. 

Because at least the torture he endured deep in that facility was a familiarity to him. Sebastian knew how to deal with it, how to counter it, and when and where it was safe enough to fall apart without it tainting the reputation he built amongst Urbanshade and the expendables they sent on a mindless rat chase. You were his respite from it all, as much as he hated to realize it. That respite reminded Sebastian that humanity still had its remaining silver lining.

The cruelest of lives create the most meaningful people, as unforgiving as it was.

Now, there won’t be an excuse. Sebastian will have to handle a life of pure respite with you; however that will go.

He just hoped his anger could be kept under wraps — Spliced memories of countless shattered flash beacons whipped at walls and industrial rack shelves that had seen better days under the force of his blows. Shouting always followed, raw and enraged. 

The demeanor you had shrunk to in HQ’s office haunted Sebastian. Moreso, that there was a damn good chance of it happening again; possessing his actions as if the moment his fury reached a certain level, Sebastian was swapped out for a more animalistic, monstrous version of himself. A version that he never asked for to begin with.

Light refracted from outside into his eyes, shooting directly from the bus’s front mirror. Sebastian saw the top of the Urbanshade bus driver’s head in the reflection, bobbing up and down with the movement of the vehicle. Mirrors, Sebastian scoffed. There was another fun topic to spiral downwards.

Some birthday.

Secluded wasn’t the right word, but it wasn’t dense either. It was a spacious neighborhood, each house granted quite a bit of privacy from each other. A beautiful, full forest surrounded the outskirts, lying against warm coasts of the ocean; not that you’d be returning there anytime soon. The nature created a peaceful view, but still populated enough to have people walking the sidewalk. It was a suitable balance of normalcy and solace.

And the house, the house was something you’d dream of owning back when the economy brought you to your knees. Instead of becoming one, taking advantage of a large corporation for their money was the next best thing to survive it.

You placed the box containing Painter and the rest of your belongings down with a groan, stretching your back and looking around the foyer. Sebastian closed the front door behind you, locking it. Even that seemed like a task he’d taken for granted.

It was big enough for Sebastian to maneuver around, but accessible enough for you. Something with equal grounds. The layout was nice, nicer than you had expected to receive from something like Urbanshade — an open concept, with big enough windows, and a fully furnished interior. Although the family room, with nothing but a TV, a WiFI router, and an L-shaped couch, told you the night would consist of a lot of online shopping.

Sebastian took the liberty of opening the only moving box you had come equipped with, lifting Painter with care and placing him onto the kitchen’s island counter — holy shit, an island counter — that came with two outlets on the side. One outlet was reserved for Painter, the other for your phone. 

That reminded you, electricity bills weren’t something you needed to worry about anymore. Water, heat, initial taxes, house payments, groceries, personal items, anything. Giddiness swarmed your stomach at the idea of going on a shopping spree without a single consequence to your bank account. These luxuries did come with an extremely taxing price, however.

You supposed Sebastian wanted to reconnect Painter once you were somewhat settled, taking the opportunity to explore the house further upstairs. Three bedrooms, each with their connecting bathroom. 

Although empty, the biggest one was automatically assigned to Sebastian, with a sizable bathroom and shower, and a basic mirror installed on the wall — how he would relieve himself with the altered anatomy he’d been given was a complication Sebastian would have to solve, and you pitied him. You figured you’d have to purchase two king-sized mattresses and push them together to bed his entire body, or at least most of it.

Down the wide hall led the second biggest bedroom, across from Sebastian’s. You internally deemed this one as your own, a lone mattress conveniently sitting on the hardwood floor — No sheets, of course, Urbanshade had their limits to being generous. Your bathroom was nice too, the thought of taking an hour-long shower already seeping into your bones. 

Despite only being incarcerated for well over a year, the basic blessings of life had grown deeply missed. You couldn't even imagine the effect twelve years would have.

The stairs thudded as you hopped down, sliding a hand down the rail. “The rooms are huge. High ceilings, too. I’ll be kind enough to let you have the master bedroom.” You broke the silence, neither of you having said a word since boarding the shuttle bus.

Sebastian only hummed lowly in response, leaning his elbows against the island counter while staring out the backyard sliding doors intensely. He then pivoted to rest his palms against the cool surface of the marble countertop.

“Something on your mind?” And a deadpan was sent your way. Right, stupid question. “What’s up?”

He huffed, laying a hand across Painter’s case, whose screen was still lifeless. “This. I’m not too keen on the idea of keeping their shit on the down-low.”

“I’m not either, but we don’t have a choice. Besides, it’s only benefiting us.” You walked closer, sticking both hands in your jumpsuit’s pockets. A mental note was made to do some excessive clothes shopping for either of you. Sebastian opened his mouth to retort hotly, but you cut him off. “Financially, Sebastian. I know.”

You turned to walk around the foyer once more, hearing an irritated sigh behind you. Your steps devolved to a simple circle, until you paused altogether. Taking it in. Taking in the results of your endless efforts that seemed hopeless and inert at the time. It began to hit you that… this is it. This was the rest of your destiny. Not that you were complaining — Far from it.

Out of thousands of prisoners, you were deemed worthy enough to have a fate other than eternal darkness. Not that you didn’t constantly wonder if that route was a better look for you.

There you stood, in that dreadful, tattered jumpsuit, soaking it all in. Sebastian’s gaze turned to you, realizing you were having that moment he experienced the second he boarded that submarine. His expression softened, somehow. Just this once, he could let that facade down. It felt more fitting. He owed you that much. And the fact that he was to spend the rest of his life with you, not that he was complaining.

“It’s so… weird.”

“What is?” Sebastian mused.

“The quiet.” You reminisced on all the times your ears rang after the screeches of Angler and its counterparts pierced the blacksite’s hallways. “It’s never been this quiet.”

A hum. “Yeah. It is weird. I'd better enjoy it before I have to endure your voice for the rest of eternity.”

You brushed past Sebastian towards Painter, rolling your eyes. “Asshole. I won’t be the one making the whole house smell like tuna.”

“I spoke too soon.”

Afterwards, Sebastian had gone to view the upper floor himself, slinking up the stairs in a way you had no clue how he’d achieved it. 

The quiet moment in the kitchen allowed you to plug Painter back in and wait for his system to kick in. You inserted the thick cable that ran from his back into an idle outlet and hoped that he hadn’t suffered a thud or two enough to damage his software or hardware. You stood back, waiting with more anticipation than you intended. For the first few seconds, not a muscle moved. No sign of Painter. 

A relieved sigh left your lungs once you heard his internal fans begin to rotate, and his screen flashed white. You took a step back with a wincing expression, continuing to see Painter’s screen blank, devoid of an MS Paint border or a scribbled face. Pitched beeps began to sound from his side box, until two familiar circles flickered onto the screen. A wide grin spread across your face, leaning forward to rest your palms on your knees.

Painter’s wide eyes circled his screen, resembling the action of taking in his surroundings, until they landed back on you. “Are… are we…?”

You nodded, happy knowing that there were no casualties to his memory. “Yeah. Got us out.”

Possibly the widest smile you’ve ever seen was scribbled onto Painter’s face, the warm tone getting across despite his facial limitations. His hesitancy towards you and your motives before escaping had weakened drastically. Enough to not second-guess your words.

“Where’s Sebastian?” Painter immediately asked, after you had given him the rundown of what had happened during the time him going offline. His face became frigidly scribbled, as if nervous.

Hardly were you able to keep yourself from visibly frowning. The concern for Sebastian was bittersweet, his mind automatically following a conclusion of tragedy. “Upstairs, checking out the place.” You gave a spirited pat to his casing. “Painter, we’re okay now.”

“No, actually, Urbanshade guards sniped me before I could leave the blacksite. Filleted my ass.” A deep, undeniably sarcastic voice ascended closer, a deadpan crossing your face.

You turned to grab your charging phone, laughing. “Sebastian-fish tacos.” 

“You find that funny? Really?” Sebastian placed a clawed hand over his heart, a faux scoff leaving his chest. “I am truly, truly, hurt.”

“Well, at least I would’ve had something to eat, other than wall dweller-surprise.” That got a cringe out of both Sebastian and Painter — one of them grossed out by the idea, and the other recalling what it was like.

Sebastian shuddered, moving towards the family room. “Ugh, don’t remind me.” His entire body unceremoniously flopped along the grey couch, followed by a full-length stretch and a relaxed groan reverberating around the house’s entire first floor. For ten whole seconds.

You looked up from your phone to confirm that you weren’t the only one with a contorted face, Painter sharing the same thought. “I think he’s a little too excited.” A quiet giggle left your breath, starting a chain reaction with Painter’s giggles.

A bright esca and three glowing eyes peeked over the back cushions of the couch, Sebastian caught off guard. “What was that?” He asked, knowing damn well what kind of joke left your mouth.

“Huh?”

“What?”

As you walked to find a seat on the couch that wasn’t taken up by whale tail, said tail shoved you across the couch before you had the opportunity to sit. 

The tumble punched out an oof, followed by an annoyed glare sent Sebastian’s way and a distant snort from Painter. “Y’know, I’m trying to shop for groceries and necessities for you .”

“I have a very important necessity.” He turned onto his stomach, huffing.

You took a seat on the couch near the end of his tail. “And what would that be?”

“You, going away.” Sebastian’s tail received a jab.

An hour of online shopping had your phone swarmed with a plethora of tabs — your old accounts linked with a ‘Company Credit card’. Sebastian found the TV remote and put on a series of YouTube videos for himself and Painter, bingeing on content he hadn’t had the opportunity to. He had access to the internet throughout his prison time, but it was never frequent, especially after the… procedures.

Kitchen supplies, basic living items, furniture, maintenance supplies, technology, groceries, and pantry food, it was everything you could think of for comfortable living, as comfortable as it could get. Returning to your favourite clothes sites felt blissful, but shopping for Sebastian would be a challenge. Buying solely shirts wasn't the problem; confiding and confirming what a thirty-two-year-old man would wear was a simple task.

It was the size and fit were the obstacles. From observation, Sebastian would fit 7XL T-shirts and 8XL jackets and hoodies; wide enough for his bigger build and long enough to preserve modesty. His third arm posed a completely different issue, but you had a DIY solution in mind.

Evening rolled around, as did dinner — three large pizzas from the nearest pizza place, since the groceries wouldn’t arrive for another hour, and pizza sounded like heaven itself after that prisoning loop of death robbed you of your hunger. You could afford to spoil yourself and Sebastian for at least one night.

The moment you carried the pizza boxes into the kitchen, Sebastian took hold of two. In the time that required you to eat a couple of slices, the feeling ranked among your top ten, he had managed to scarf down both designated boxes without hesitation. Your eyebrows raised towards him.

Sebastian only shrugged, chewing, obstructing his sentence. “Twelve years without a decent pizza will do something to you.”

“Should I leave you two alone?” You snickered, nearly choking on the slice you were working on.

An annoyed sigh came from your right, almost like an irritated child. “At least you guys can eat pizza.” Painter squinted his eyes.

“You don’t even know what it tastes like. Or what eating feels like entirely.” 

Another dramatic scoff. “I can dream, Sebastian.”

Hauling tens of packed grocery bags with the help of a mutated, three-armed guy was a bigger boost than you realized. Sunlight that once illuminated the house had grown weaker as you both assorted the food products between the fridge and cupboards; each item heightening your excitement at the idea of enjoying coffee in the morning, or testing out online recipes for an air fryer you had ordered. Painter could only provide moral support, which was more than enough.

One box remained, containing the items you’d been excited about the moment you bought them. You lifted the packaged, store-bought cake to the counter, a little nervously, along with a knife set. 

Sebastian cocked an eyebrow. “What uh— what’s all this?”

“Cake.” You offered a small grin, although it would have been much larger without your constraint. “Wanted to celebrate you.”

A hum left his chest, with more depth than Sebastian intended to let out. None of this was achievable without your help, but you bought a cake to celebrate his escape from Urbanshade’s shackles on his birthday. It was one of those smaller, blank chocolate cakes with little regard for sprinkles.

Did you really remember the time in his shop when you were patching yourself up with a medkit, asking him the random question of ‘ vanilla or chocolate’?

Sebastian could only blink slowly in your direction, making eye contact. A complete contradiction of what he was typically comfortable with. The gesture was more than enough to understand his gratitude; you weren’t expecting full sentences from a brick wall. 

You lifted the clear cover over the cake and slid the kitchen knife set across the counter to Sebastian to open. “C’mon, before it gets soggy.”

A human-sized slice was cut for you, and a quarter of the cake for Sebastian, which was eaten between the pinch of his thumb and index finger. The action left your mouth agape.

“It can’t be that good of a cake.”

He licked chocolate frosting off his knuckle. “After years of shitty prison food? It is.”

Frosting was caked under his claws, but Sebastian wasn’t going to wait for you to finish occupying the kitchen sink. The downstairs bathroom was crossed off the list, unable to grant him privacy since his tail would prevent the door from closing.

The bathroom mirror couldn’t be avoided forever, Sebastian knew that, but he wasn’t prepared to feel the reaction it would elicit from him. None of the surgeries provided a guidebook on how to accept a new body. He wasn’t ready to look a creature of his past in the eyes — it was always instructed otherwise to further provoke the wild. 

When Sebastian viewed his room for the first time, he gave his bathroom a glance from the doorway, but otherwise left it neglected. Sebastian simply needed to get over it, even if getting over things was a notion left in his shadow, because holding grudges meant holding control. Control kept his sanity from taking control over him. 

And after those moments, where control was torn from the skin of his back and left to rot, it was something he took pride in keeping. 

Sure, he'd seen his reflection in pools of water, or passing by windows of research offices back when his captivity wasn’t something to forget, but Sebastian had never taken the time to see the body of a monster he’d been forced into.

A shaky breath left his throat, and he swallowed tensely once he reached his bathroom. Maybe Sebastian could keep his head down; how long can washing hands take? His claws met the faucet, switching it on while his neck craned towards the counter.

But who could blame Sebastian when he let his eyes trail up, catching a glimpse of his taloned hands under running water, and his waist, where blue-grey, human skin transitioned to sheaths of thick scales. It was unavoidable, and right there, but that was it. Sebastian didn’t need to gaze further.

But hell, if that sliver of his body didn’t uphold his debilitating curiosity. Curiosity that killed him in the first place. Sebastian swallowed again, switching off the faucet and holding his damp hands above the sink. The way his eyebrows clung to each other set off a chain reaction, that ugly, stinging feeling shrouding beneath his eyes.

You can’t run from who you are, nor can you hide from what the world makes you out to be. 

Sebastian would have to face both, sooner or later. 

Envisioning it as ripping a band-aid off failed to ease the sick feeling in his gut. Instead of a band-aid, it was a surgical scalpel peeling off the remnants of his humanness. He sucked it up anyway; facing himself, literally and figuratively, was something Sebastian couldn’t continue to put off for the rest of his life.

Sebastian met his own glowing eyes through the reflection, his face staring back at him.

Not a face he remembers.

Sebastian bore holes into the mirror; the webbed ears pinned to his skull, the lure hanging from his crown, the extra arm dangling from his torso, the length of a whale’s tail that replaced what would have been trembling legs, all mocked him. Pitied him. It all pitied Sebastian, because he knew his appearance would forever taunt the memories where he awoke from a steel surgical table in a daze, confused, disoriented, and terrified. So fucking terrified.

Sebastian could still see structure and features from his fully human face, the pieces binding the final remnants of his identity. But it was all warped, and tainted.

His head pounded at the distantly familiar sight, claws trembling and hooking onto the counter with long, rigid lines. Sebastian’s eyes dragged from the heavy darkness around his eyes, to his harshly bobbing throat, and a sour taste in his mouth.

Everything tasted so sour. Sour and sickening, claimed the monster in the mirror, beckoning him to acceptance.

Each instance of waking up from another surgery, from the very first time Sebastian had gone under the knife, to when he had lost count, began to overlap in his mind — needles, restraints, echoed voices behind protective glass, the smell of flesh and sterilizer. A scream. His screams.

Tears that had welled in advance threatened to streak.

He refused to cry, even in solitude. Because he wasn’t, Sebastian was haunted by the version of himself before Urbanshade was a thought, and who he would have become if they hadn’t invaded every right of privacy he was ever given.

The sight of his naked chest, no doubt littered with grotesque surgical scars and incisions, plagued Sebastian's head — the thought leaving a single, measly tear to scrape down his face, as if leaving a scar where it grazed his skin. It was swiped away just as quickly.

A hushed choke comes up Sebastian’s throat.

“Those fucking bastards.” His voice wobbled. Cracked.

The mirror showed no sympathy — only the shell of a man who had yet to realize just how much his strength would be put to the test. 

If you hadn’t called him from the base of the stairs in a concerned tone, Sebastian supposed he would have lingered at his reflection for another twenty minutes. Haphazard knuckles swiped his face at the startling noise, ripping him back to reality. It’s over, he reminded himself. Why do I keep reliving it?

“Got some snacks,” Bags of chips and whatnot sat open on the couch, next to where you lay. Being lazy never felt so good. Your neck craned across the back of the couch, watching Sebastian enter the area. You’d already got first dibs on one of them, munching away with some random video you started playing on the TV. 

The room’s tone shifted once Sebastian entered to lie upon the couch. Something about his demeanor was off, but you went against pushing for an answer; you’d received more than you bargained for in one day. Although your goal was to reach a point where Sebastian would communicate right off the bat, it wasn’t an achievement to be reached soon; not by a long shot.

You threw a bag of Ruffles on his chest, prompting a dead glare and a snicker from Painter.

“Thanks,” Sebastian scoffed. He tore the bag open with a claw, situating himself more comfortably on the cushions. “Gimme your phone for a sec.” 

The device was handed to him, although with a raised eyebrow. You assumed Sebastian wanted to use your shopping accounts to make a purchase, since a phone of his own was still in transit.

You looked through your money transfer history once it was handed back, and found three orders of Marlboro packs in the most recent. “Really? Wasn’t inhaling every cigarette you found in the blacksite enough?”

“Hey, I’m a grown fish-man.” Sebastian shrugged, stuffing a handful of chips into his mouth. “Besides, old habits make me hard, or something.”

“That is not how the saying goes.” Painter feigned a concerned look, while all you could do was choke on the food in your mouth. 

“Do I look like an English major?”

“Not really—” Harder giggles and coughs punched out from your chest.

Sebastian sent another irritated look your way. “I don’t appreciate how fast you said that.”

You hooked your elbow over the back of the couch, sharing a cocked eyebrow with Painter. 

That earned a few chips tossed at your head.

By now, the TV and ambient kitchen lights were the only light source around the three of you, the night had quickly draped over the house. Silence did too. The lateness crept up, Painter having shut off and dreaming whatever RAM sleep granted, leaving you and Sebastian secluded in the dimly lit family room. 

All of a sudden, you pivoted your torso to face the kitchen, instinctively checking your surroundings. Sebastian looked along with you, confused. The movement registers in your mind, and you sit back down with a shake of your head. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

He nodded his head upwards, understanding after a moment. “They got you good down there, huh?”

“Stupidly.” You nodded, sighing frustratedly. 

The darkness triggered a yawn from you, and Sebastian couldn’t help but follow through. “Sleepy? At nine pm?”

“After today, how could I not?” Another yawn forced its way out of you, your eyes welling at the motion. “It’s tiring, not having to be scared all the time. Miss the sea bunnies, though.”

Sebastian hummed in agreement, remembering the times he had come across their rooms in search of more items to sell at the shop. Their oblivious, happy chittering brought some form of comfort to the facility; that somehow, the basic innocence of the living could continue to be located in those depths.

Moments passed, weighing in the silence, the sounds coming from the TV speakers muffling out.

“I know what you’re gonna say, but I’ll ask anyway.” It was a shot in the dark, the offer that lingered in your mind. After the day he’d had, Sebastian willingly watching TV with you already tested your luck. Your head turned towards his. “Would it be okay if I slept here? In the family room, with you?”

Sebastian squinted. “Because you’re scared?”

“No—” Yes. “Today’s been a big transition for us all, and uh… okay, a little. But  also because my mattress is bare.” 

What Sebastian didn’t know was that you were asking more for his sake, rather than yours. It was scary, sleeping in a new house with nothing but each other, but being subjected to dark, unfamiliar circumstances wasn’t a foreign occurrence to either of you.

A large, condescending hand patted your head. “Relax, you’ll live. The dark is the least of your concerns.”

So, no. Not surprising, but understandable.

“Well, yeah, not when you’re taking up most of it.” His sarcasm seemed to be rubbing off on you, too well. You snorted at his silence, in which the claws on your scalp moved to flick your temple.

Sebastian rolled his pupil-less eyes. “Way to convince me.”

What you didn’t realize was that Sebastian never truly intended to refuse your sleepover idea. It’s not that he didn’t trust you — the trust you held in him said enough. The trust Sebastian had in himself, however, faltered. Immensely so. 

The high risk his state of unconsciousness held was not a chance he was willing to take. Almost every period of sleep Sebastian had during the lockdown, which occurred once in a blue moon, was invaded by nightmares that most people would go into cardiac arrest over. 

And if you were to witness that? To be there in his wake?

Sebastian’s history of shredded fire blankets and old pillows during those moments heeded his fear-fueled actions from your presence. A million years wouldn’t be long enough to forgive himself, lest you fall accidental victim to that fear. 

He vowed to break that cycle of anger — Protect both of you from that state of vulnerability; God knows just how vulnerable he reduces to in those moments.

A second yawn was your sign to finally surrender to your mattress. You reluctantly rose from the couch, muttering a soft goodnight to Sebastian, before starting to slug your way to the stairs.

“Thanks for uh… holding out. Getting the crystal and all.” Sebastian began, the unexpected gratitude freezing you in place. “S’nice to know someone was waiting for me.”

There was a catch to his voice. A balm of sorrow.

A bittersweet smile cracked upon your face. “I’d have done another hundred runs if that’s what it took. And please, Sebastian, wake me up if you need anything.” He sent you a nod, which was enough to ease the movement in the steps up to your room.

He wouldn’t; he didn’t.

The coldness of your bathroom’s linoleum tiles spread through your socks, stepping inside and looking around for a second time. 

Skipping a shower for one night wouldn’t kill you, but the feeling caressed you close — it was one of the fantasies you’d dreamt of countless times whilst wandering the blacksite. Knowing the hygiene products you had ordered soothed it enough.

If you held your breath, the quiet buzzing of the bathroom light could be heard. You did, once the bathroom mirror came into view.

Tired eyes, eyes you hadn’t seen in eons, met your own in the reflection. They spoke to you as they did during your youth. Begging, pleading. And all you could do was watch. But it was a refreshing change to see yourself in a safe environment— As safe as a person who’d lived hundreds of fatalities could get.

You leaned in closer, catching a small scar on your jaw. That wasn’t there before you agreed to participate in the ‘Expendable Protocol’.

A sharp pang of anxiety shot through your gut.

You didn’t want to see the damage dealt, but you clasped the zipper of your worn jumpsuit with a wavering hand anyway. Sliding it down revealed the basic tank top Urbanshade supplied each expendable with, so you removed that too, until you were standing in your undergarments. 

Goosebumps seized up your arms and shook your spine raw.

It… wasn’t a pretty sight. Scars ranging in size and shape littered your body, marring the surface of your once unlived skin. Permanent reminders of the conditions you put up with. Of course, there were no lingering marks from the times you’d been devoured whole by the rampant creatures Urbanshade subjected you to; not physical scars, at least.

Almost as if those bastards performed experiments on you. 

Your bottom lip twitched. The state they left your body in was not a thought you were willing to dwell on; not for the first night of freedom, at least. The image you always held of yourself was debilitating enough.

Quietly, you slid the articles of clothing back on, deciding against switching the bathroom light off for the night. And for the following nights, for the following weeks. Leaving your door open while you slept, however, was not an option. Your life before and during Urbanshade lectured you on every reason opposing that choice.

The dark was someone you’d never managed to run away from.

You were never more petrified of the dark than you were now. But Urbanshade wasn’t the only experience that taught you anything could be lurking in hidden corners, waiting for the moment you turn your back and let your guard down; your childhood did too.

Funny, how that lesson applied to more than just the fear of the unknown. You feared living more than you feared death. 

With as much comfort you could muster, you sprawled across the white, floor-ridden mattress — and it felt like fucking heaven. Sure, it lacked the essentials: sheets, pillows, and an actual bed frame, but anything was better than growing exponentially exhausted without a physical limit; immortality deprived you of that. According to those supernatural laws, it must have been months since you last slept.

The room seemed to settle as you let your eyes trail up to the ceiling, lying on your back. It was… weird. It was really, really weird. 

Usually, when the air fell still and unstirred, it only granted the in-between before a creature decided to strike. But there wasn’t this time. No monsters were meant to emerge from the darkness and invite you in anymore. No imminent danger or death. Just… existing.

You didn’t realize how lethargic you’d fall, not having to survive every moment in trepidation, because every waking moment you spent in that facility was mere survival, not living. Up until this point, life had only meant survival.

Even then, you gave your trust to the walls around you to fall asleep soundly.

Nightmares hadn’t gone unnoticed in your subconscious either, but you knew the change of scenery would grant you a few nights of peace before the inevitable. That, and the vivid scene of Sebastian pressing his lips against yours with fervour, sending your mind positively reeling, replaying behind your eyelids. Over and over.

You breathed.

Sebastian breathed. 

He’d begun to shrug off his clothes after a few minutes of sitting in silence; the blue scarf, his jacket and shirt, and every belt he donned were thrown to the floor with little regard. It was a familiar aspect of his routine when he’d decided sleep was the only option, since most of his body could not sweat, resulting in overheating.

The couch had little give, once Sebastian lay out nearly his entire body’s length across the cushions. He watched the vibrant, yellow light of his esca slowly fade out, until the glow of his eyes was the sole light source in the room.

Maybe Sebastian could… stay awake. Keep his eyes open for as long as possible, and successfully avoid sleep altogether. Even if intentional sleep deprivation had its drawbacks, it wasn’t an unfamiliar practice. Sebastian figured he’d receive an earful from you if he ever mentioned his achieved record of days survived without a moment's rest.

Sebastian felt quiet dread wash over him as his eyelids grew heavy. Heavy and numb, succumbing to the painful sting that had been eating away at his optic nerves for the last two days. (Days, when conversing with Innovation Inc. would issue him and Painter an escape if he hadn't figured it out himself. He would have to get Painter to send them a thumbs-up that all had gone well. Later.)

He could only hope the constant thought of his new living situation, ringing through his mind to process it all, would somehow override the terrors scraping for release the second Sebastian nods off. It was already rare that he’d reach a state to fall asleep, let alone one of dreamlessness.

You would think Sebastian would have learned his lesson by now, hopelessly hoping for things to occur in his favour. Hope wasn’t meant for someone like Sebastian. 

And deep down, he knew that. 

He knew that all too well.

Chapter Text

Cold and unforgiving, sheathed the darkness around his cruel body. Barely sustaining in a building of reason.

Reason — a word Sebastian could no longer locate.

Not a single spare file lay beneath the idle tip of his claw, which barely pricked the barren surface of the desk. Unusually stark, but not difficult. He could adjust. He always did.

His head hung low, waterlogged and heavy, the scars of sleepless nights etched beneath his eyes — etched into his being, even, dragging down with his lure. Although anchoring, in an environment he knew he would never find solace in.

“It has fled.” An archaic, enigmatic voice rumbled before Sebastian, emanating from a pair of green eyes. 

Barely, could Sebastian make out the silhouette of a green suit and a taper-edged Panama. “Fled?”

“Your chance.” The anomaly remained still. “Your chance of escape.”

No. Sebastian knew what he had witnessed. The hand he lay along the desk, clenched in sternness. “I did escape. I did.” 

“And yet the bars remain.” Mr. Lopee responded stiffly. “Escape is not freedom. It is unmarked territory.” 

It was typical to receive coldness from the blacksite, but not from an individual within. Sebastian persisted. “I’m free. I got on that submarine, and I—”

“Indeed. I said you’d leave. Never did I say you’d shed.” His stance readjusted, firm, and settled.

Sebastian was clever enough to coin the implications. But he was right. “What’s your point? You know what they did to me.”

“Thus.” A blink. “What festers shall follow.”

Both individuals were well aware of Sebastian’s short temper. It was a matter of who would control it best. Sebastian assumed the latter. “You don’t have the right to dignify that crap to me like I didn’t already know.”

“What was wrought in you is not undone by mere wishing.” Mr. Lopee took a step closer.

Sebastian scoffed. “Yeah, well, I never wished for this in the first place. I’m doomed, cursed, however you deem it.”

The ghost shook his head. “No curse, Sebastian. Only you. That is the only prison you cannot flee.”

And although he knew that, the reminder shook Sebastian. “I didn’t choose this.” He croaked sternly, as if the statement would rescind the second skin he wore. “What now? What’s your point?”

“Heed my warning.” The apparition turned with smooth movements, facing the darkness ahead. “This scar will not fade. When your guard is lowered, it will betray you. It will betray them.”

Sebastian’s head rose in a flicker.

Mr. Lopee began to dissipate, blending amongst the pitch. “Accountability will solely rely on you.”

“That’s not true, they screwed me over with animalistic instincts—!”

“Blaming will not solve. That may be, but in the end, only your hands will bear the blood tarnish.” He affirmed, apologetic. “You may find escapism, but you will never live within.”

The green-adorned silhouette waned into the abyss completely, leaving the air to hang heavy and taut. Although a man of few words, Mr. Lopee’s final words deeply ingrained themselves in the front of Sebastian’s mind. He knew it would leave a mark. Nothing good ever did.

Sebastian’s vision swam in panic, his ears ringing violently amongst the pounding of his heart — its separate pleas left unheard, to bronze and sting. The darkness around him could only further, emerging eagerly to render any attempt at perception futile.

Futile.

Nothing.

Nothingness.

Cushion.

Cushion?

Oh. Right.

Sebastian’s lure flickered awake as did he, dimly illuminating the family room. Just barely, could he map out the position he was angled at across the couch, or what he could fit of himself. The profile of Painter’s casing reflected from the kitchen, which diverted his gaze to the house’s interior entirely. The house, not Urbanshade.

Grounding was difficult when every nerve in his arms quivered, hairs raising in anticipation. Had his grip been any tighter, would he have sliced clean through the couch’s fabric beneath him, anxiety pumping his lungs with a vengeance. 

Sebastian’s eyes jittered through every inch of his surroundings, mapping and analyzing, as if searching for the best escape route. It was a debilitating post-nightmare routine for Sebastian, and he knew that, but the results of this process never failed him — he wouldn’t have been able to neutralize that high-ranking guard in the first place.

But it’s okay. Sebastian’s okay. 

It was all too familiar, being awoken by nightmares that should have remained in the confines of sleep. He was no stranger.

(Although, this one in particular was certainly more than just a nightmare. It was unlike any he’d experienced, and Sebastian had a feeling it had come from the individual in mind, rather than his subconscious. It was his way of officially parting. Mr. Lopee was known for being cryptic, but this warning made itself deathly clear; its contents adding to the already established fear in Sebastian.)

So, of course he knew how to deal with it; letting it fester, and not actually dealing with it. It was foolproof! There were no pathetic tears to wipe, no trembles forming deep within his bones, and no time wasted dwelling on trivial matters. Sebastian supposed he could live with the physical ache it brought to his chest, who hadn’t?

But he had the chance to play his cards differently, now.

You did give him the invitation to pester you if he needed something. For someone that gave up their chance at returning to their old life post-blacksite, you would have been more than willing to put up with Sebastian’s silly antics.

No. Sebastian couldn’t do that to you. He didn’t really need anything. It was only pesky, human instinct to long for a pair of arms to secure his deterioration. (He had three arms for Christ’s sake! What more did he need?)

Besides, you would have probably changed that mindless routine, having witnessed it firsthand, and any more change would have sent Sebastian’s sanity into oblivion — even if it benefited him.

The distant outline of the staircase seemed to beckon him, but he paid it no mind. His gaze drifted over the couch, settling at the sliding door across the kitchen. Beyond it, the backyard lay blanketed in a familiar shade of night, a quiet veil stretched over the restless neighborhood beyond the wooden fences. If he had to guess, Sebastian figured it was just shy of three in the morning.

In any other case, Sebastian would have remained awake, tracing out shapes on the nearest wall, but sleep had gotten a tight hold around his head the moment his environment was deemed safe enough. 

It was a notion he cradled tightly for months — that the moment Urbanshade lost its governance over him, and safety took its place, voluntary unconsciousness was no longer a risk of casualty.

Sebastian tilted onto his right side, pressing his back against the nearest couch cushion. He shifted to fold an arm beneath his head, pushing out an empty tear to curve over his… nose bridge? Snout? Whatever it was, it left a cold, damp trail across the expanse of his face. He didn’t bother wiping it. The cool sensation it left as it dried grounded him anyway.

Anything to ground himself. 

A darkened claw picked at the couch’s fabric, fidgeting with a loose thread. His remaining, smaller, left arm scraped his scarred skin gently. It was only an inch of scar tissue he could feel, but Sebastian knew it continued up the vastness of his chest — the darkness granted that blissful ignorance. He then raised both of his left arms to wrap around his torso, as if to hold himself secure. 

What difference would it truly make if it were y— another person?

A dreamless sleep lulled him to peace once his lure flickered out, resting on that notion as he drifted off. A notion restless itself. Sebastian needed space, privacy, and rights to his loneliness. Not you. He didn’t want to need you.

Instinct coursed through your veins the moment consciousness took hold, assuming your surroundings would remain of steel lockers and hallways that harbored danger. A temporary disorientation glazed your vision, swimming hazily until your lucidity grew. 

Instead, you were met with a room grazed with the soft glow of afternoon sun, peaking through vast windows and spreading warmth across any surface it hit. 

You got out. Right.

A strong sigh of relief flooded out from your chest as your panicked frenzy receded. Although a relieved grin etched itself across your face, it would most certainly not be the last time you’d wake up similarly.

The expression you wore faded just as quickly as you jumped to your senses — Sebastian. How did he wake up? How did he sleep? Did he sleep?

Despite your lack of knowledge on what exactly Sebastian dealt with under Urbanshade’s watch, you were smart enough to acknowledge the nightmares that would result from involuntary DNA experiments and surgeries. It was the reason you ensured your company was in reach in the first place.

Knowing Sebastian, there was a high chance he witnessed a nightmare but dismissed your offer. It was more than likely to have happened, yes, but it was important to let Sebastian know your aid was available anyway — it had been from the first of many moments you felt remorse towards him.

Admittedly, you left the bed with giddiness, knowing the presence of two cherished individuals awaited downstairs. The last time you woke up with such clear premonitions went unbeknownst to you. (There never was such an instance. It was unusual to have woken up without personally cursing the Grim Reaper for leaving your door scarce.)

Until you spent time opening the collection of hygiene packages probably sitting outside the front door, a splash of water to your face would have to do. Clothes too, staring at your EXR-P jumpsuit in the mirror reminded you just how bad you needed it off your skin.

The house remained silent even as you strolled to the kitchen, reading ‘1:13’ on the oven clock. Have you really slept sixteen hours? Sebastian had every reason to, but you supposed you hadn’t clocked just how much energy a timeless death loop drained a person. 

But there was no trace of a whale tail weaving along the couch.

Radiant sunlight beaming from the glass door hit your gaze, shining against every surface in the kitchen, including Painter. His screen flickered on once you turned to face him, a warm smile drawn.

“Hi.” You grinned back. “Did’ya sleep?”

Painter’s face tilted in a nod. “Mhm! I dreamt too.”

“You dreamt? About what?” 

Painter paused for a moment, recalling the most recent one. “The backyard. I was sitting on the grass, drawing the sky. It was night, so I drew stars and space stuff.”

“Space stuff.” You hummed, pondering. Any semblance of sentience reserved the ability to dream, you supposed. “I’ll see if I can set you up outside, for real. You’re probably tired of sitting in one spot.”

“Yeah, but I’m sorta used to it, y’know?” He huffed out a giggle, reminiscent and bittersweet. 

The surface of Painter’s casing cooled your palm as you placed a hand on him. Lamenting. “I know, yeah. Do you know where Sebastian is, by any chance?”

“Uhhh,” Painter’s eyes closed to a squint. “I think he went… outside? Last I heard was the back door shutting.”

You sighed a quiet thanks to Painter before stepping closer to the glass door for a clearer look outside — and there he was. Sprawled lazily across the grass, Sebastian leaned back against the lone tree in the entire yard. Only his white jabot undershirt could be seen around his shoulders, the typical midnight-blue coat tied around his waist. His back was turned, leaving you uncertain which tone you’d use with him that morning. Something light, for sure.

The wind moved tenderly over him, a warm, patient touch that he nearly let go of for good. It had been a long time since he’d been allowed stillness — no liminal observatories, no facility workshops, no operating rooms breathing down his neck, awaiting the next opportunity a scalpel would strike. 

Just the innocence of the world, where basic territory flourished. The world had always been there, waiting for him on the surface — a world that offered its worst to those most undeserving.

For the first time in twelve years, he wasn’t subject to the sight of what lay within the ocean, nor the endless corridors of a facility that seemed to stretch on forever. He could finally look without being caged.

His chest ached. His heart throbbed with a deep, longing pain that felt like it had been accumulating up until now. It hurt. God, it hurt.

Sebastian would allow a few tears to slip. Just this once.

It stung, to clench his teeth so rigidly, swallowing tight and quelling whatever choked noise prodded his throat. 

He knew you were watching him from the house. He could feel it. It was a skill he had learnt excessively. But he remained still, watching clouds pass by with little thought.

Before Sebastian could catch you leering over him with profound intent, you exhaled, pivoting to grab a snack from the pantry. Breakfast was long overdue, and coffee would have been your first choice, but the machine you had ordered probably wouldn't arrive for another few days, along with many more household appliances.

“Cookies? Really?” Sebastian slid the back door shut with a soft thud, raising a skeptical brow as he leaned an elbow on Painter.

You nodded, cheeks full and unapologetic. “I’ve earned this. And so have you.”

Without breaking eye contact, you lobbed the foil bag across the kitchen like a peace offering. It skidded across the counter, which Sebastian grabbed with the grace of someone who’d been living with you for years.

“If you insist.” Sebastian tipped the entire bag into his mouth like a breathing garbage disposal, with zero hesitation or dignity.

“They’re meant to be enjoyed, not obliterated.” Painter squinted, feigning a concerned look.

You shook your head disapprovingly towards Sebastian.

Sebastian turned Painter around to face both of you once he initiated his segment of the conversation, placing the bag of cookies aside. He paused mid-chew, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “This is me enjoying them.”

Knowing the cookies would vanish within seconds under Sebastian's watch, you pivoted to the fridge to find anything edible without a microwave or toaster. A container of strawberries stared at you, knowing you’d probably forget about them if you didn’t pull them out now. 

“Coffee machine’s not here yet?” Sebastian asked with a grin, knowing it was the source of your annoyance. He remembered the numerous times you’d complained about the lack of caffeine Urbanshade provided, stumbling into his shop on the brink of slumber. “Why don’t you give water a chance?”

You sighed unamusedly, picking up the strawberry container and closing the fridge with a hip. “I think I’ve had enough water for a lifetime.”

Sebastian huffed out a laugh, humming an agreement through a mouth full of cookies.

There was a beat of silence, soft and easy, Painter sitting between you both like a referee waiting for someone to start another round. The morning light filtered in through the bare windows, pricking strands of Sebastian’s hair to make them seem amber. You realized, too late, that you were staring.

It would have completely reflected the similar moment you had on the submarine to the Blacksite’s loading docks, if Sebastian hadn’t brought it to your attention, Painter’s too.

His head tilted slightly. Not smug, just… curious. “Something catch your eye?”

There was a bitterness to your expression. You shook your head playfully, but were unsure too. “I… wanted to ask about something, about one of the conversations you two had.” 

Painter seemed to light up at the mention of his presence.

“Alright. Shoot.” Sebastian crinkled up the now-empty bag of cookies.

“I don’t mean to pry, and I know we just escaped, but,” You ran the container of strawberries under the kitchen faucet, the sound leveling the sudden tenseness. An unnoticeable tactic you had learned over time. “Would you wanna contact your friends and family? Now that you’re out?”

Sebastian seemed to stiffen at the question, and Painter widened his eyes, also awaiting an answer to this once-abandoned topic.

“I uh… I don’t think so, no.” Sebastian cleared his throat and swallowed uncomfortably. “Like I said, they’ve accepted my death and moved on. I’m definitely not who I was back then, and after all this shit? I doubt they’d still want me now.”

Your head tilted. “Death?”

A flicker of confusion crossed Sebastian’s face before it clicked — he’d held his Urbanshade file captive from you. Not because he thought your opinion would matter, but because it simply hadn’t been worth mentioning. Definitely.

“Oh, right. Yeah, uh, long story short, I was framed for nine murders, was proved innocent while Urbanshade played Operation on me, declared dead to the public, yada, yada,” Sebastian splayed his arms out before him with an unamused expression. “Here I am.” His presentation made it feel like confetti should have shot out his ass.

The words hit you like shrapnel, but you couldn’t blow a fuse right then and there. Your anger, although sharp and abrupt, wasn’t for yourself. Still, if he could discuss the details nonchalantly (At first), you owed him the courtesy of matching his tone. It was the only way you’d avoid shouting when the deserving party wasn’t even in the room.

“You make being declared legally dead sound like a mild inconvenience.” You scoffed. But you allowed a hurt and bitter emotion to settle into your face to let Sebastian know it wasn’t to be taken as lightly as he did. “That’s… fucking awful, Sebastian. Listen, it’s up to you how you handle that. But like Painter said, I think they’d be overjoyed more than anything.”

A small ‘ Mhm!’ sounded from Painter, his face nodding in agreement.

Sebastian grimaced with a soft nod. “Yeah, well… I appreciate—” A loud chime interrupted his initial thought, emanating from the front door. His head cocked towards the foyer. “Oh, must be more packages. Heard them coming in throughout the morning.”

You watched Sebastian maneuver towards the front, peeking through the side windows to time the delivery worker’s departure to slither outside when he could avoid making them wonder if they were hallucinating, having a stroke, or both.

Before making a beeline to the awaiting packages (A rare, almost euphoric feeling you’d nearly forgotten), you and Painter exchanged weary glances. You popped a strawberry in your mouth.

There was a lot of work to do.

Even with the tower of packages that had already accumulated at the front door, boxes and crates kept arriving in a steady rhythm as you and Sebastian organized the ones that already had: Lounge furniture that could accommodate the biology of both you and Sebastian, a beautiful mahogany coffee table (You pledged to take advantage of your Urbanshade, company credit card privileges for all the poor souls that would never experience the high.), and kitchen appliances (Including a coffee machine!) sitting patiently in their respective cardboard boxes.

You’d done most of the knick-knack shopping, with Sebastian’s fruitful suggestions from the side (Which included a mug that read, ‘WOMEN FEAR ME, FISH WANT ME’ , but who were you to deny such innovation?) His mostly minimalist streak meant he was content with the basics — after the last twelve years, he grew attached to the notion of ‘less is more’. 

But you loved discovering the little things that made the living space alive, and it was a feeling you’d cherish the more you remembered the unfortunate circumstances the Blacksite dealt with. Vintage lamps and indulgent decor, pillows, blankets, and bedsheets with character, and purchases you’d received to begin rebuilding the computer setup you once had, all spoke of a new home and newer premonitions.

It was the first place that truly felt like home. The many houses you’d passed through during childhood never came close to the feeling. Now, you were beginning to recognize what made a house a home — where cleaning the house didn’t ignite arguments every ten minutes, where small mistakes made in organizing didn’t spiral into insults and jabs at your self-worth. When the description of ‘victim’ wasn’t eligible to be added to your title once again.

It was something more hopeful, yet fragile, even amidst the knowledge that those shadows wouldn't relent. 

You weren’t willing to exchange one hell for another. (Even if the last time had gotten you here, one more may have killed you. For good.)

Not everything has made its way here yet, of course. The bigger deliveries and final touches were set to arrive over the coming week. It was a patient unfolding, but one full of promise. The bull-shittery ambience of you and Sebastian unsealing mystery boxes, either with scissors or a claw, while Painter watched from afar, chatting about his plans for art — it all felt like breathing life into each wall, and turning them into a building worth staying in, for once.

But at each abrupt sound of tape ripping or assembly pieces clambering onto the floor, Sebastian’s ears twitched. Not because the sound irritated him, but because it caused small flinches in your movements. Whether it was rooted in your experiences in the Blacksite, or ones before it was even a thought, he took note, but knew to turn a blind eye for the time being.

The clothing deliveries that had arrived throughout the day excited you most, feeling profoundly impatient to shed the accursed and miasmic jumpsuit still clinging around your body, and you were sure Sebastian’s current attire made him feel the same. His two king-sized mattresses wouldn’t turn up for another few days, but at least comfortable t-shirts would lessen the annoyance of being couch-bound.

But there was an obvious issue each of his new shirts posed.

Before Sebastian could notice, you’d moved both his and your clothing into your room, while he busied himself outside assembling lounge chairs for the backyard. You wanted to solve the anatomic flaw each article reiterated before Sebastian could be re-reminded — re-reminded that he didn’t belong anywhere. It wasn’t that you thought that, but his quiet, almost imperceptible grievances told you he often did.

Once the last of the day’s packages had been unboxed and stowed away, the sun was dipping low, shining orange hues through each window. You told Sebastian you’d be upstairs unpacking “room stuff,” and he didn’t so much as glance up from his work to question it. 

Behind your closed door, you laid out the contents of the sewing kit and extra fabric you’d bought along your bed, piling each of Sebastian’s new shirts and hoodies just next to it. You doubted he’d bat an eye if you remained cooped up in your room for an hour or two.

One by one, you began altering a third-arm opening into them — cutting out the respective hole, and then stitching the extra fabric along the seams to resemble a sleeve, hoping the incisions would be clean enough to seem like they’ve always been there. Your hands worked carefully and deliberately, imagining how each piece felt more like his. 

It didn’t matter if Sebastian hadn’t asked for such a favour in the first place; it mattered that he was granted the same sense of belonging everyone else deserved, until there was no question that he belonged.

The evening neared eight o’clock when you finally stepped out of your room, oversized shirts draped over your arm, donning your own change of clothes; fresh from what might have been the most heavenly shower of your life, you savored the warmth of your brand new sweats. 

Admittedly, you were nervous to hand over the altered clothing to Sebastian. The gesture warranting any kind of setback didn’t seem plausible, but when has anything? Ever?

You swallowed your crippling anxiety and carefully knocked on Sebastian’s door. (You heard him retreat to his room a little after you had, presumably sorting out his personal belongings.) 

A low, ‘Hey stranger, over here,’ sounded from behind the double door. 

Your laughter slipped into the room before you did, sweet and reminiscent, as if reliving a memory years away. “I swear I’ve heard that before.” 

Sebastian was stocking hygiene products in his bathroom, ducking down in the cabinet beneath the sink. He tilted his head, as if struggling to recall. “Huh… weird,” A playful smirk was evident in his tone. “I’m not sure what you mean. Probably nothing important.” 

It was almost bittersweet, the way the air settled into a familiar instance, but not exact — it would never have the chance to be, anyway.

You hummed, scoffing with a smile, but manually breathing. “I got your uh… your new clothes.” Moving closer to the bathroom, you stepped diligently over his tail, extending your arm with shirts strewn over it.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, thanks.” Sebastian’s voice rumbled, still crouched to organize bars of soap, until he raised to look at you. Thank god for high ceilings.

He immediately noticed your new clothes as well. It felt strange to observe you in a setting that weren't the cold, dire circumstances he was used to — it was rather... domestic, more so when the casual loungewear you sported replaced the sterile jumpsuit Urbanshade provided.

He took the clothing gratefully, stretching out a black t-shirt as he held the others with his additional arm. “If you hadn’t noticed, normal human clothes lack a certain—” A third sleeve sewn into the left side came into view, putting his initial thought on standby.

“I know, I know, I’m not the best at sewing,” you winced, feigning an almost painful grin-cringe amalgamation, sticking your hands into the pockets of your sweatpants. “But it should hold, length-wise, at least. Embroidery wasn’t my forte in senior-year art class.” 

The air came to a heavy stillness as you waited for his verdict, nervous if you had crossed a line. Sebastian didn’t speak right away, his attention caught in the simple gravity of each modified shirt, having traced each seam you made — a task he hadn’t asked you to do. A task that he was perfectly capable of doing himself. And yet, it was the result of an effort he continued to study.

It wasn’t just the fabric his thoughts were weighing in on, and it scared you a little.

“No, it’s… it’s good.” Sebastian blinked, dumbfounded. He cleared his throat and coughed a bit, as if trying to suppress any tone with a depth. "Thank you," he murmured, almost reluctantly. "You didn't have to do this."

A proud grin appeared on your face, even if he avoided your gaze like the plague. “I wanted to.”

Sebastian could only nod, stiff and unfamiliar with such a sentiment. “Then I’ll uh… I’ll try one on.”

You nodded in tandem, turning to leave and give him privacy. It hurt to smile as much as you were, but fuck, if you didn’t feel accomplished.

The unexpected tenderness made Sebastian's chest flutter, and he hated it. It didn’t seem like unusual behaviour from your end, but it was a level of kindness he’d grown to omit from his expectations. He groaned in disgust, piling the shirts onto his bathroom counter, loathing the mushy, sappy feeling he could feel eating away at his insides.

No one was ever that giving for no reason, except you were. And your persistence made him pissy, and even more so when it began to work. 

He hated it.

Well, he didn’t exactly hate it, but the feeling puzzled him endlessly. It wasn’t one he could easily chart or navigate, with years of practiced defenses. This was new. New and unknown, and Sebastian wasn’t fond of the unknown; not since the last time he was subjected to it.

Sebastian began to shrug off his jacket and white shirt, smelling faintly of brine and mildew. A few frayed strings poked out from the seams here and there, stitched together with history he’d rather forget. He examined the articles closely, letting his eyes trail from the jacket’s thick leather, to the thick, blue-ish tone of his forearm. (A second skin he wished he could shed, as much as Mr. Lopee was right.)

Even shrugging on a black Metallica t-shirt filled his head with a certain fuzziness, the accommodation for his lower left arm allowing it to be slipped on with ease. It fit perfectly, to which he assumed the rest of them did too. He sighed, pressing a hand to his forehead, and drew his eyebrows in defeat.

In the Blacksite, there wasn’t a single moment to be spared for dwelling on feelings and internal turmoil, only survival. Roaming for wares left across the facility, scavenging the bodies of expendables that weren’t as strategic as Urbanshade hoped, and eliminating those whose egos grew far taller than they were, served Sebastian the perfect distraction.

A distraction until freedom.

Now, Sebastian was forced to deal with freedom. Forced to deal with you. A small part of him was beginning to believe they were the same thing; he hoped that part remained small.

What were you doing to him?

After walking back to your room for the time being, you spotted a dark-grey tank top — Sebastian’s — that you’d forgotten to hand over. You plucked it, hurrying to deliver it before he finished changing, in case it was what he’d prefer to wear at the moment. The bedroom door was left ajar, just enough for a crack of light to spill into the hallway.

You stepped closer to announce your error, only to falter. Through the slim gap, your gaze caught the pale blue stretch of his bare back, halting your words.

There was a monstrous expanse of scars, scattered across his skin with a multitude of sizes, shapes, and depths. Quite a nasty one circled the edge of where his third arm met his torso. It was a map of every reminder Urbanshade had to give, littering his once untouched skin — something akin to a battleground. But you wouldn’t quite say it was one Sebastian reigned victorious of. 

It was a sight that nearly split your heart in two.

It was sad.

You took a gentle step back.

To avoid seeming like an impatient pervert, you waited at the top of the stairs, leaning against the handrail with the extra tank top, keeping your cool.

Sebastian slithered out of his room, sporting a deadpan, and the Metallica t-shirt you had purchased without his knowledge. “I never mentioned I liked Metallica.”

“No,” You shrugged, suppressing a cheeky smirk. “The guitar that collected dust in your shop did.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed, but there was the faintest curl at his lips. “You sneaky bastard.” He moved closer, indicating his wish to go downstairs.

“We probably wouldn’t be here if I weren’t.” Stepping back, you gave room for him.

“Touché.”

Before following Sebastian’s trail down the stairs, you craned your neck, haphazardly throwing the tank top amongst the rest of the shirts on the bathroom counter — discerning a blanket draped over the mirror. You knew bringing it up would diminish the tone you worked to the bone for, but it crushed your soul just the same. Hiding would only prolong the inevitable.

Any higher being would probably smite you for the hypocrite you were.

Whatever TV show series the three of you agreed on played in the background of the family room, establishing the environment as Sebastian hooked Painter up to sit comfortably on the couch. Before joining them, you went to the kitchen to make your first coffees in the house, Sebastian opting for one too. Coffee at nine p.m., there’s another messed-up notion the two of you found common ground on.

Sebastian finally settled against the end of the couch, leaning against the armrest with his almost-black coffee. He found peace in the idle conversation Painter sparked with you, discussing your own passion for the arts since you had pointed out the doodle of a steaming coffee mug he had drawn next to his interface.

While you let your mind drift, Sebastian and Painter grew enveloped in the TV, allowing you to appreciate the scene with perspective. You knew there was a long road ahead for either of you, but basking in each other's company and surrounded by warmth at every angle, it felt like the right step towards healing. Or whatever came closest.

Your focus landed on the arm next to you, open and lingering.

Painter was busy drawing a character from the show.

Sebastian, feeling the same urge, went unbeknownst to you.

With all you’ve gathered from Sebastian’s character, you knew he wasn’t one to make first moves. He wasn't easy, and certainly not... touchy.

It had only been a few days since escaping Urbanshade's jaws, and you were far from expecting any change in his behaviour. And even within that short time, you made sure to keep your distance and respect his unspoken boundaries; aside from overhearing the enraged shouts he directed at insolent expendables, disregarding them completely, you heard those loud and clear. Painter definitely knew more about that than you did, so until you posed a discussion founded upon the topic with either of them, you'd have to rely on the astute environmental awareness you specialized in as a child.

You would have to make the first move for him. It’d have to be under his supervision, however, with full control granted.

Even if he had kissed you first — that felt more like testing the waters than crossing a threshold.

You waited until you caught his gaze trailing within the same vicinity as yours (as much as you could gauge from barely visible pupils). You could’ve sworn you were seconds away from vomiting your heart out from how hard it was thumping. But you applied your ability to stomach dread as you had done before, gently reaching out a hand to place into Sebastian’s. Silent, but knowing. Gratifying. Your hold encased the base of his thumb, fingers curling into his palm without a word. It was a lot colder than you had anticipated, but soothed the excessive heat sitting next to Painter brought — his internal fans had to have been on their last leg.

The sharp flinch of muscle beneath was evident, but hadn’t followed an act of reciprocation. It began to worry you.

A beat.

Another.

The air between you seemed to thicken, every second stretching into something taut and unbearable. You were seconds away from pulling back, apologizing a million sorrys, and evacuating the room, noticing how his ears pinned back.

But Sebastian’s hand remained still and unmoving, as if gauging whether the advance was deliberate, deliberate enough to follow through.

And he was more than capable of withdrawing the moment the contact displeased him and launching you out the window, recalling the recent memory of him hauling your entire weight with one arm. The thought began to reassure the panic that surged through your veins at record speed.

You kept your grip steady, refusing to fidget.

His gaze flickered — not quite at you, not quite away — hovering somewhere in that limbo he so often occupied when letting his guard down felt dangerous.

A third beat.

Then, the faintest shift; a hesitant brush of his thumb against the side of your hand. When you still hadn’t pulled away, the rest of his hand curled around yours with a quiet ascertainment. It was secure and grew firmer by the second. A surrender to your proclamation, and validating his understatement of what the gesture spoke: I’m sorry for the events that lay within your history, and that the support from another had only approached you long after. Your testament doesn’t define who you are; your humanness does. I am willing to make you feel human again.

For a moment, you entirely forgot how to breathe; despite knowing the risks the action consisted of, and thoroughly disapproving of each one before initiation, the uncharacteristic reciprocity coming from Sebastian rattled you to the core.

The adrenaline that shot through made it feel like you were dealing with Abomination all over again. So much as to completely miss the way Sebastian's face churned with conflict, almost frowning at how gentle you were. As mere as the touch was, flourishing with a certain tenderness that he'd thought the world ran cold of, it tightened his chest like a bowline knot. You were too gentle for a creature like him.

It was such a small, subtle movement, you nearly doubted it had happened at all. But the weight of it settled in your chest, deep and tangible, like an anchor. The press of his skin was dizzying, blooming a warmth you’d never registered before. You don’t think this level of endearment had ever reached you, not since this.

Instinctively, you’d been braced for the hesitant emptiness of him pulling away. Your fingers tightened ever so slightly to let him know that you meant every inch of it. But this was different. This was different. This was him staying. This was him choosing.

You discreetly glanced up, watching Sebastian calmly redirect his focus back to the TV, seeming to breathe manually. You wanted to avoid the chance of ruining the rare moment with your new bitchy, complicated roommate so soon, diverting your eyes to the screen too.

If only mind-reading were possible. You still felt your sanity teetering on the edge of a cliff, not knowing what the hell could be going on inside Sebastian's labyrinthine head.

It became increasingly difficult to let the contact smooth within the normalcy of the current scene when you felt the pads of his fingers curl in and press intently against the back of your hand. The tips of his claws dragged gentle lines up and down; not enough to leave a mark, but enough to raise goosebumps along your already unnerved arms.

The gesture is small (For what it is, not for what it amounts to) and shockingly tender. All things considered, you swallow hard at the coil that seemed to wind up in your chest, the unwelcome sensation pressing further up and welling tears along your waterline.

You mentally beat yourself to a pulp for getting so easily emotional at a touch as feeble as this. But it's Sebastian, brittle and bitter and tough, and nothing of the sort.

The assumption you’d come to accept that unconditional affection and solicitude wasn’t meant for you, not after how your family treated you, was also a reason to your minuscule loss of composure. Touch was a long forgotten notion until now. You were shaking in your boots, to say the least.

You swallow down the feeling again and again, until it began to pain your heart physically, but you kept resisting. A cough rose up your throat, so you used the opportunity to sniffle too, masking it as a basic spontaneous reflex, and not the result of poor emotional management.

Luckily, the tear that managed to slip out fell on the side of your cheek opposite to Sebastian, flowing idly until it dropped to your chest. The darkness of the family room, aside from the ambient glow of both the TV and Painter, seemed to do a decent enough job of shielding it.

Sebastian was at least observant enough to note the sudden shift in your demeanor, but did not comment on it. Nor to the way your breath grew a little more shaky, stuttering on the way out.

How could you not, when the most emotionally unavailable and suppressed person to ever exist displayed anything but?

How on earth were you expected to get a good night's rest now?

The night was no longer young, with all three of you slowly nodding off, cold coffee cups left abandoned on the centerpiece table. The long-forgotten Smiling Friends episode served as a soothing white noise, even if it was the scene of Charlie screaming like hell as a result of a severed nose.

Sebastian couldn’t outwardly show his disappointment when you eventually shared your goodnights and released his grasp to retreat to your room, but he could let his gaze linger until you vanished from sight.

And Painter seemed to notice, squinting after Sebastian had returned him to the kitchen counter. “So?”

“What? What’dya mean, ‘So?’” Sebastian paused, resting his hands along his hips.

“The hand-holding?” Painter scoffed, as a matter-of-factly. “Big move, for someone like you.”

Taken aback, Sebastian frowned. “Wha— what’s that supposed to mean?”

Painter only tilted his face at a twenty-degree angle, all the more amusing when his casing remained still.

“Okay, okay,” Sebastian pinched his nose bridge. “But it wasn’t—”

“It was.” Painter’s smug little grin stretched as far as it could without getting cut off. “You were less tense when an expendable had brought a gun into your shop.”

Sebastian snorted, a little too loud. “That’s different, kid. I was able to hold my own.”

“And you can’t now?” Painter’s eyes lifted to the top of his screen, clearly trying not to giggle. “Don’t tell me the guy who neutralized dozens of Urbanshade security guards without second thought can’t even form one coherent thought when it comes to holding hands.”

With a roll of his eyes (with barely visible pupils), Sebastian made his way back to the family room. “Goodnight, Painter.”

“C’mon! What’s the plan now?”

“Plan?” Sebastian flopped onto the couch, shrugging a blanket over his shoulders. “I’m supposed to have a plan?”

Painter’s brow furrowed, expression half-exasperated, half-amused. “Well, yeah. If there’s anyone who always has a plan, it’s you.”

“There is no plan,” Sebastian scoffed. “Just… something I have to sleep on.”

You’d say you were halfway moved into your room, still waiting for certain items to be delivered. 

But it was more than enough. Anything was better than cold halls and even colder hands, throbbing from how tight a grip your flashlight continued to suffer from. Checking your surroundings at a seemingly arbitrary routine, until there really was something creeping up behind you. 

Consistently worrying about Sebastian and Painter. Never yourself — you could come later, whenever that would be.

When would that be?

It was a question you’d always asked yourself, from youth and beyond. You shouldn’t have had to ask it. Not then, not ever.

But it never seemed urgent enough to tend to.

Here you were, still bracing for an environment that seemed incapable of protecting you. An environment where care and concern were destined for anyone else, while you were filed away, quiet, secondary, expendable.

And now, you live by that notion like a vice.

Because maybe they were right; maybe it was never that serious.

The plushness of your bed sank you deeper into the safety of your room, feeling the choice of that old question stirring again. Until that void swallowed you whole, dragging down your consciousness with it.

That question seemed to hang in the air when you were abruptly brought back to lucidness. Loud, laboured panting could be heard from the family room, wringing the air dry of the calmness that the moon had brought.

Sebastian.

A part of you leapt instinctively toward him, pushing you out of bed without a thought and halting your feet at the top of the stairs. The other part of you stayed rooted, weighed down by caution. Knowing that intervening may not be the best course of action for someone like him.

Still, you waited, breath held until the sounds eventually eased, leaving only a tense repose. Relief washed over your panic, but it left a bitter residue. Even if his breathing seemed to smooth, yours hadn’t.

Curling uncomfortably back into bed, you felt the sour twingeness of guilt gnaw at your gut. The guilt of not posing as the help you wished you had as a kid — it was a terror you recognized too well from your childhood nights spent awake and bare. And now, having done nothing but let it blow over, you carried it with him.

You knew your inaction wasn’t a betrayal — realistically, Sebastian would have pushed you away the moment you set foot into his vicinity. 

But it felt like one.

Sleep came eventually, but it was shallow and uneasy.

Coming from a person who had lived the same despair, over and over , it only felt like you were complicit in that cycle. Permitting it. 

You were no better than your parents.

It was hard, trying to will away the thought that lingered in the back of your skull: Don’t expect to be capable of saving them when you can’t save yourself.

Hiding will only prolong the inevitable.