Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You're a normal, white stickman, without many aspirations in life, working as a researcher for a technology and research based business, or something like that. Rocket Corp was the perfect way to leave your miserable home in the village and live in the city because of the huge opportunity that came your way. It was really what you needed, or so you think, who knows.

You've always led a self sufficient and boring life, rarely feeling passionate about the things you did; it was sad. But what can you expect if you're middle class, with no close family or friends, right? :)

Getting out of your comfort zone was basically impossible from your point of view. Shyness and asociality are sometimes unavoidable, and every time you try to talk to someone outside of work, you freeze. Just talk, it's not that complicated!

Anyway, aside from how miserable you are...

Everything that could go wrong today did. You woke up late to start the day, you skipped breakfast, your keycard failed several times, you forgot to pack your lunch and skipped lunch, halfway through the day you realized your shirt was on backwards, all wrong! Miserable miserable miserableee.

After going to the bathroom and straightening your shirt, you decided you needed- no. You DESERVED a break. After the bad day you had, you just left work without anyone noticing.

You left work and decided to walk around the city without having a specific place to go, aimlessly, looking at the colorful city, the people walking and enjoying themselves alone or with others. Until you found a different area. It was dark, it was the same city, but gradually getting darker and with a heavy atmosphere.

You felt uneasy, but since you're too stubborn, you decided to go in. You'd never noticed that part of the city before; maybe it's new? Or maybe you're just too busy with work to notice the things around you. Anyway, as you reached a secluded area, you heard heavy breathing and someone moaning in pain. Curious, you approached the alley where the sound was coming from. Perhaps expecting a homeless person sleeping there or a rabid animal, it's all the same. You chuckled at the assumption.

Although, your laughter faded when you saw a dark, rather "injured" figure. You recognized him immediately; it was the dangerous and sought after hollowhead from the "wanted" posters.

Oh, Cursors, your heart stopped for a second. You hadn't seen him in person, but you had heard the other workers talk about how the boss was looking for him and a cursor. The posters with his face and the reward offered by Rocket Corp came to mind, but you shook your head.

He was clearly hurt; you felt empathy and decided to approach him.

Chosen was fleeing from the mercenaries sent as a victim. They wanted to capture him because he had information on "Alan," a cursor wanted by Team Rocket, and he's basically their main target right now.

Chosen was flying away, almost disappearing from sight, when he was suddenly shot in the leg. He screamed in pain, but he couldn't stop, not now, not when they were so close to capturing him. He panicked and looked for a place to hide, finding a dark spot in the city that seemed less crowded, or at least clear of people. He landed in a secluded spot, sitting on the alley floor while trying to stop the bleeding in his leg. He wasn't going to lie, it hurt like shit.

But just at that moment, someone peeked around the alley's exit and he froze. It was you, a simple, curious citizen in his eyes. He was speechless, not even knowing how to begin or how to explain the situation.

"Hey, are you okay...?" You approached. Chosen looked at you with his dark red eyes, fearful and full of pain. He backed away, a little flustered by your sudden approach. You knelt in front of him, seeing the bleeding on his leg and panicking, looking around, not knowing what to do. "A-ah, what happened to you?"

Chosen was panting heavily, his black hair disheveled, and sweat beaded his dark skin. The bandages on his arms and neck were stained with blood, and his black jacket and shirt were torn and dirty from his desperate escape. He looked like he hadn't been feeling well for a while.

"Fuck... I'm in deep shit," he gasped, wincing as he tried to settle himself and ease the pain in his leg. He glanced nervously up at the sky, making sure the mercenaries were nowhere near before turning his attention back to you, who looked like you were going to have a heart attack at any moment from the sight of him so drained of blood.

You searched around for a piece of cloth but couldn't find one, so you decided to tear off a piece of your shirt and tie it to his leg. In the midst of the desperation you felt, it was the only thing you could think of to help him. You pressed the cloth firmly over the wound with the palm of your hand to stop the bleeding while Chosen moaned in pain and surprise.

"Okay, okay... uuhhhh now, ??" you said, completely nervous, not knowing what to do next. The leg of the puppet in front of you was covered in blood, and now your hands were too. You looked at him in panic. "Does it hurt a lot? Should I put a tourniquet on you, or do you think it's too much? Oh, I'm asking too many questions, mnnhjdmcjjjdl"

While you seemed more shaken than shocked by the bullet he took, he seemed unsure of how to react, surprised by your concern and your immediate action to help him. He wasn't used to strangers showing genuine interest, especially in a situation like this. His natural coldness wanted to ignore you, but the pain and fear were too overwhelming.

"I... I got shot. Those damn mercenaries are chasing me. I couldn't escape," he explained in a whisper, his voice strained with agony. "I don't know what to do either... and I can't stay here. They'll find me."

He looked at you pleadingly, desperately hoping that you could help him escape this dangerous moment. But he was hesitant to put you in danger, knowing the trouble being associated with him would bring.

"Mercenaries? Uhh..." you trembled a little, remembering the team that left the facility every week and searched for the dark puppet. Your stomach churned at the sight of you being associated with the people who had hurt the guy in front of you, to the point of shooting and weakening him like this. "I- I'll help you! Yes, I, yeah..."

Chosen's eyes widened in surprise at your immediate agreement to help him, despite the obvious danger. He hadn't expected such a quick and decisive response from a stranger. The second you answered, you felt nervous for saying it in such a desperate way.

"I mean! Yes, I'll help you, mhg," you blushed and looked at the floor, feeling Chosen's eyes judging you. A small, awkward silence filled the air. You didn't know what to say anymore. You were supposed to say something, say it!

"Uh..."

Without saying anything, Chosen reached out and grabbed your arm tightly; his carelessly bandaged hand left a faint mark on your pale skin. His dark red eyes examined you intensely, searching for any hint of deception or ulterior motives. You babbled in fear, releasing the pressure of the cloth for a few moments. After a moment, he seemed to believe you and relaxed a little, though his grip on your arm remained firm.

"Okay... I need to get out of here. Now," he said urgently, in a low, tense voice, "tie the cloth to my leg. I can't go to a hospital. They'll find me too easily."

"Yes! That's what I was going to do," you turned your attention to the cloth and your bloodstained hands. You swallowed and tied the now-rag tightly around the hollowhead's leg. Chosen gritted his teeth, trying to stifle a moan as you tightened the makeshift bandage around his leg wound. The pain was unbearable, but he knew he had to endure it if he wanted to survive.

"I don't know your name, but I owe you one..."

Chapter Text

The sound of your keys sliding through the lock echoes through the house before the door swings open and you kick them open. Chosen hobbled through the doorway, leaning heavily on you for support as he crossed the threshold of your home. He paused for a moment, his eyes scanning the inside of your dwelling, taking in every detail.

He blinked as the light suddenly came on, his sensitive eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness of your home's warm light. You guided him to the couch and gently helped him sit down.

"Do you want water? I'll get the first aid kit to cure you."

Chosen hesitated for a moment before nodding slowly. The pain and exhaustion in his eyes made it clear how much he needed a break. He watched you walk into another room; the sound of running water reached his ears before you returned with a first aid kit.

He settled back on the couch, wincing at the throbbing in his leg in protest. He took the glass of water from you with a nod of thanks, gulping it down before handing it back to you.

As he did so, he saw your hands, trembling and still stained with his dried blood.

You placed the glass on the table in the living room and watched him reach into the medicine cabinet. He rummaged through it until he found some clean gauze and bandages. You moved a little closer and sat down next to him to help him, but he pulled his hand away when you tried to grab the bandages.

"I can handle this," he said gruffly, not wanting to upset you any more than he already had.

"Just... just give me a moment to heal."

He struggled to untie the cloth wrapped around his leg, the pain in his hands making the task difficult. You just looked at him in pity as he placed the piece of cloth on the floor.

"Can I help you? You're too hurt to heal yourself..." you insisted again.

Cho let out a shaky breath, her shoulders slumped in defeat as he realized he wasn't in a position to refuse your help.

"Fine... but hurry," he said gruffly, handing the bandages back to you. "I don't know how much time we have before they start searching this area too."

Cho seemed paranoid. Ever since you found him in the alley, he'd been staring at the sky and the surroundings on the way to your house, always alert for even the slightest noise. He leaned back on the couch, closing his eyes for a moment as he tried to regain his strength. When he opened them again, he watched you intently as you set to work, your fingers skillful and careful as you tended to his wound with gauze to clean away the new blood.

As you worked, he couldn't help but watch your face, trying to understand what motivated you to help a stranger in such a dangerous situation. Most people would have run away screaming, but there you were, calmly bandaging his leg and acting as if it were an everyday occurrence.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked suddenly, his voice hoarse with pain and confusion. "You don't even know me. It could be dangerous."

You stop and look at him for a few seconds, before grabbing the bandages and humming softly. It was true, it was very dangerous to help him. You didn't even know why you helped him; it just happened, but you weren't going to tell him that.

"I don't know, it's not like I could have left you there. You're a stick like me," you say, wrapping the bandages around Cho's leg with gentle movements. You didn't want to scare Cho with any sudden movements and make him attack.

"A stick like me," he repeated softly, tasting the words on his tongue, surprised by the comparison. He watched as you bandaged his injured leg and couldn't help but feel a glimmer of kinship at your words, the certainty that you saw him as an equal.

But as quickly as it had come, the sensation was replaced by a harsh reality. Was he a stick like you? No, he was different, very different. A monster compared to you. The stabbing pain made him inhale sharply. But he didn't move away, forcing himself to endure the discomfort so he could heal and escape.

He reached out and grabbed your wrist before you could finish, his grip firm and unyielding. His dark eyes bore into yours, assessing you.

"But I'm not like you. It's not safe to be around me," he warned in a low, intense voice. "If you help me, you will be an easy target. Are you sure you want to take that risk?"

You think about it for a few seconds, then simply nod. Chos blinks at your response.

"Really?"

"Yeah :3"

Chos slowly let go of your wrist, stroking your skin with his fingers for a moment before pulling away (lol). He let out a low, humorless chuckle as he leaned back on the couch. His leg was still throbbing, but the pain was already subsiding thanks to your ministrations.

"Okay," he said softly, a hint of tiredness in his voice. "Looks like I'll have to stay with you for a while longer. But I mean it: if things get really bad, I need you to promise me you'll get to a safe place. I won't let you put yourself in danger because of me."

He reached out and ran his hand through his disheveled hair, his mind racing with plans and contingencies. He knew he needed to rest and recover, but he also knew he couldn't stay in one place for long. The mercenaries were relentless, and it was only a matter of time before they caught up with him.

Chapter Text

In the last few days, Chosen had slowly begun to recover, thanks to the rest and relative safety of your home. He spent most of his time in the room you gave him when you realized he couldn't sleep on the couch in the living room, he is a guest and deserves to sleep decently in a room.

He would occasionally go out to eat or to see how his leg was recovering. Every time you tended to his wound, he watched you suspiciously, still unable to believe that someone could be so selfless and unconditional, he remained distrustful of you.

Chos was sitting at the kitchen table, pecking at a plate, he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. His body may have been recovering, but his mind was on constant alert, always on the lookout for any sign of danger. He had lived this way for so long, always looking over his shoulder, that it had become second nature to him.

You looked at him from time to time from the living room, not wanting to be too obvious, although you already knew he noticed. It was hard not to. Over time, you had come to know certain things about him. Little snippets, gestures, mannerisms. His attitude, always a little tense, as if the world was about to break. And in spite of that - or maybe because of that - you found his behavior funny to a certain extent. Not in a mocking way, but rather you looked at him like someone watching a wild animal trying to adapt to a new home, distrustful but curious.

Sometimes, Chos would sit in front of the window of his room, in silence, with his hands resting on his thighs and his gaze fixed on the courtyard or the sky. He said nothing, asked nothing. He was simply there. Always alert, as if something might appear at any moment. As if he was waiting for danger to come looking for him.

And in those moments, you watched him from his doorframe with a strange mixture of tenderness and fascination. He looked like a cat about to hunt: immobile, concentrated, with his muscles tense under his skin. That kind of eerie stillness that precedes the leap. It was almost funny how much he looked like one: the way he tilted his head, the way his eyes were fixed on a specific point as if he could see beyond the obvious.

("Equal"), you once thought, while he didn't even notice that you were now comparing him to a cat from the comfort of your couch.

You get up and walk slowly towards the kitchen, the soft echo of your footsteps mingling with the faint sound of silverware. The atmosphere is charged with a tension that is unspoken, but breathed. When you arrive, you see him there, sitting quietly, eating with hungry.

Without saying a word, you sit down right in front of him. The chair creaks slightly under your weight. Chos stops. The spoon hovers in the air for a second before lowering carefully onto the plate. He looks up. His eyes search you, not with surprise, but with cool distrust. After mutual eye contact for a few moments, Chos sighs and eats again.

You chuckle, he always does that, sizing you up and then acting normal.

You lean, with your elbows on the table and look at him with curiosity, in the time you both have been living in the same house, you always limited yourself to not ask many questions, in case you bothered him. But you needed answers, to keep him away from the Mercenaries you needed information, right?

“So... Chos, I know you're eating and you don't like to be disturbed while eating, but...”, you look at the table and its wooden design, why are you nervous,

”why are you running away from the mercenaries, what did you do?”

Chos tensed at your question, narrowing his eyes as he slowly put down his fork. He took a deep breath before answering, his voice defensive.

“Look, I don't want to talk about it, okay? It's... complicated.”, He averted his gaze, as if the words weighed him down more than he could bear. He picked up the fork again and plunged it into the food, only to move it back and forth with no intention of eating.

“Let's just say I did a lot of stupid things a while back (involving lives), and now some guy wants to see me dead. That's why they want to capture me.”, He said it without drama, but with a weariness that showed in his voice,

“But they won't find me here. Not with you looking out for me. They won't... I don't-"

He paused, then looked at you at last, with a blush on his cheeks.

“I don't want you to get hurt...”, he mumbled, almost in a whisper, he looked down at once, avoiding your face awkwardly, the strong blush on his cheeks gave him away, he was embarrassed

“Oww, Chosen!”, You chuckle, softly, unable to keep the tenderness from escaping your voice. The laughter is not mocking, it is warm, unexpected,

Chos tensed at the sound of your laughter; his fork clattered against the plate. He put it down with a sigh and looked at you with a wary expression.

“What, you think that's funny?” , he asked with a hint of annoyance in his voice. He looked away again, running a hand through his hair angrily.

“No, no, not at all!”, You laugh lightly, not out of mockery, but out of surprise, because of the unexpectedness of the moment. You shake your head, as if with that gesture you could clear any misunderstanding, and then you look at him. You really look at him. You search his eyes, but he seems to hesitate, as if he's having trouble holding your attention.

“I'm not teasing,” you add, your voice a little softer, more honest. The brightness of your laughter fades just a little to make room for sincerity, “It's just... you're not very expressive, you know?”

You pause, lowering your tone slightly, as if you're not sure if you should ask the next question, but you do anyway.

“Do you really care about me?”, The question is left floating between you.

“I just... I don't want to put you in danger, okay? Those guys don't mess around. They'll do anything to get to me.”, He paused and then looked at you out of the corner of his eye; a blush still colored his cheeks.

“And I... I don't want anything to happen to you because of me. You've been so kind to me, taking care of me like this. I don't want to ruin it.”

He shrugged, trying to disguise it, but there was a sincerity in his words that he couldn't hide. He cared about you, more than he was willing to admit out loud.

“Aww, are you always this sentimental or is this one of those unique moments? :),” you joke to lighten the mood,

Chos rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Sentimental? Me? No way. I'm just being realistic.” He said, but there was no real conviction in his words. He was too busy trying to disguise his blush to sound completely convinced.

You looked at each other for a moment, then he shook his head and you both laughed softly, yes it was one of those unique moments, you didn't connect like that with him before, you're moving on.

“Whatever, man. I'm just saying be careful. Those guys are not to be messed with.”

“Dude, I know, you always repeat it,” you joke but if you know better, you work in the same company as them, you know how they work and how sadistic they are, seriously you should be careful, DON'T TRUUUSST.

Chos snorted and rolled his eyes, but there was a glint of amusement in them.

“Well, excuse me for trying to keep you alive, kiddo,” he said sarcastically, ”But hey, if you want to run around carefree and all, that's your business. I'll just stay here, paranoid and all.

He waved his hand, downplaying it, but with a playful touch. He was starting to feel more at ease with you, and his walls were slowly crumbling. He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, but you could tell how chill he was, the worry wasn't quite gone, but it was now on the back burner,

“I'm just looking out for you, man. That's all.” He said quietly,

“No need-” Chos interrupts you, talking over you,

“But okay, enough of that, how about we watch a movie or something? I've been cooped up in that room for days and I could use a distraction.”

Chos grasps his fork almost clumsily, as if he suddenly remembers that there is something on the plate in front of him. He looks down, dodges your eyes, and begins to eat quickly. You just laugh, calm and collected. He pretends not to hear his, but a slight movement at the corner of his lips suggests that, perhaps, he has. And that, inside, it doesn't bother him as much as it looks.

When he finishes eating, almost without looking up, he stands up with his plate in his hand and walks to the sink. He turns on the faucet and begins to wash in silence, as if he needed that moment of routine to help him regain control. The water runs, the soap mixes with the leftover food, and you just watch him from the table, a half smile on your lips. When he finishes, he dries his hands with a cloth and slowly turns around. He looks at you waiting for a move from you.

You stand naturally and walk towards the living room. He follows you noiselessly, with quiet but attentive steps. You plop down on the couch and watch him sit a few cogs away from you, settling back on the couch, calmer.

“And what movie do you want to see? :D”

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