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Two Time is someone who has always believed in an eye for an eye.
That one gets what they deserve, and everyone eventually pays their dues. You pay what you owe, and nothing comes for free.
This sentiment resonates strongest when it comes to what they can give. For mistakes they’ve made, things they’ve done, people they’ve hurt. But money cannot resolve the debts they have racked up, for all the crimes they’ve committed.
So they pay in flesh and blood.
In the middle of the night, are when the urges are strongest. Pain becomes a comfort, reassuring them that every cut brings them closer to redemption. That every drop of blood that drips out pushes them further away from who they used to be.
If they already weren’t that person still.
Two Time’s hand wavers, fingers tightening over their dagger. They’re different now. They weren’t who they used to be. The lobby is eerily silent, and even the fire has been snuffed out. The room is tinged a dark blue, with a gentle glow from the moonlight. They almost seem to blend in completely, shrouded by the similar hues. The voices seem to grow more desperate, chanting in their head again and again.
They’re different. They’re changing.
Even their blood looks almost black, in the dimness of the room.
Black, like they were tainted. Something evil, something inhuman.
They’re different. They aren’t who they used to be.
Their heart hammers slightly, feeling the sharp point of the dagger scratch across their skin in thin lines. One for their sins, two for being a terrible person, three for being unfaithful to all they ever believed in.
Where does it end? How many more until they are finally forgiven?
The blood seeps out in beads across the lines, and Two Time can’t help but watch silently. They stare, watching it slowly pool in different areas.
They’re different. They aren’t the sa-
Suddenly, the creaking of the floorboard snaps them out of their thoughts.
Guest is standing a few feet away, watching with a concerned look.
“Two Time? What’re you still doin’ up?” The veteran mumbles groggily, stepping closer.
Two Time panicked slightly, tensing up as their grin immediately stretched wide to meet Guest. “Good evening, Guest.”
Guest looked at the cultist, large form towering over their small frame completely. His eyes fell upon the dagger clutched in their sweaty palms, the tip bloodied. His eyes travelled to their other arm, the cuts contrasting their ghastly pallor, before moving back to their strained expression.
With a sigh, he sits down in the chair across them.
“Is everything okay, bud?” Guest leans forward, arms coming to rest on his knees. His posture contrasts that of Two Time’s rigid spine sitting straight. Truthfully, Guest knows the question is almost rhetorical. But he knows no other way to start the conversation, and it didn’t seem like Two Time would take the initiative anyways.
Two Time’s palms come to plant firmly against their pants, unsure what to say. Their smile remained etched on their face, but it had shrunk slightly, lips now pressed together shakily. They weren’t sure what to say. They weren’t even entirely sure what they felt in this moment. Shame burned along their vertebrae, while fear bloomed across their sternum as it all mixed into a cocktail that drowned out the slight stinging on their arms.
Guest’s calloused hand moved towards them, eliciting a flinch from the cultist. He immediately stopped, raising his palms to Two Time. “Hey, it’s alright. It’s okay, bud.” He moved forward again, gently wrenching the dagger out of their hands and placing it on the table.
“It’s alright, Two Time.” The veteran repeats softly. He holds his hand back out, open and inviting in front of them. Two Time swallows, itching to lay their palm in Guest’s. Their uncut hand hovers over his, wobbling slightly.
He does not deserve to touch someone as disgusting as them. Their eyes trail up the numerous scars littered across Guest’s strong arms. Muscles forged by rigorous training, fighting battles that served actual purposes. Guest was someone who actually saved people, someone who brought hope to those in despair. He was someone whose blood had been shed for an honourable cause.
Guest noted Two Time’s hesitation, choosing to close the distance between their palms. Two Time felt the warmth spread through their cold hands, feeling Guest’s rough fingers wrap comfortingly around them.
As Two Time’s smile dropped a little more, they felt their back hunch slightly, slim digits coming to curl around Guest’s calloused hand.
Guest kept his eyes on the shaking individual in front of him, the blood on their free arm now long dried and crusted over. Not foreign to anyone in here, another addition to the collection that spanned across their entire arm. But regardless, it was not a sight Guest wished to see, for Two Time to hurt themselves further.
“No one ever scorns a soldier for their battle scars.” Guest’s voice was a low rumble, but like a warm comforter around the shoulders.
“I am no soldier. And I fight no battles.” Two Time grinned back weakly, unable to look Guest in the eyes.
“You are. You don’t gotta be out on the frontlines to be a soldier.” Guests thumb smooths out a vein across the back of the believer’s hand. “You fight your battles, battles that people can’t see. You have your duties to attend to, your own invisible struggles.”
Two Time seemed to deflate slightly, letting out air they didn’t even know they were holding.
“Don’t matter what we look like, or who we’re fighting. Even if it’s our own selves. You and me, we’re both soldiers in our own ways.” Guest said firmly, giving their hand a tight squeeze.
It was then, Two Time finally looked back up at Guest.
There was no judgement in his eyes. Just a genuine care for them, for this wretched, dishonourable creature who had the luxury to even be called something as worthy as a soldier. They bit their lip, feeling their chest tighten. Sadness welled up within them, but no tears seemed to come out.
Guest noticed the look in Two Time’s eye, uncertainty and insecurity swirling deep like a bottomless whirlpool. It was rare that Two Time was still like this, they were often restless; fidgeting with their hands, picking at themselves. It almost seemed there was never a moment that they were truly at peace, with their mind and body.
Two Time was quiet for so long that Guest found himself unable to anticipate what they would say or do next. Instead, all that happened was a feeble whisper that floated out their dry lips.
“Why are you… helping me?”
Guest blinked, his hand still providing warmth around the fallen believer.
“Because we’re pals. We’re comrades, though we got different battles and different enemies. But we’re buddies one and the same. And we never leave anyone behind.” Guest smiled, other hand coming to rest against the curve of Two Time’s soldier.
It was then Two Time curled in on themselves, finally exhaling after all this time.