Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Thia noticed that Dek seemed off a lot lately…

At first, she assumed it was just him having a terrible day, possibly because he had broken his spear or Bud had done something stupid again that might've ticked him off, but her data scanner revealed that something else was hurting him. Hurting him emotionally. Strange.

Thia decided to make a choice: talk to him.

She slipped into the training room, the door hissing shut behind her. The air was thick with heat and the sharp scent of metal. Evidence of how long he had been here. Dek’s back was to her, muscles coiled, movements restless.

He swung the blade again and again, each strike cutting through empty air like he was trying to silence a phantom only he could see.

"Dek?"

No response. His shoulders only tightened, swinging sharper and faster. Sweat dripped from his jaw and mandibles. Something was eating at him. She could feel it.

"Dek."

Her voice was softer this time, but her steps were firmer as she approached. Still nothing. Just that blade, carving invisible enemies.

"Dek!"

The word cracked through the room as she tried to reach her hand out, but Dek instinctively jerked and swung his blade, accidentally cutting her hand off.

Thia became startled and then stepped back. Dek's blade halted mid-strike, breath shaking like he had been holding it for hours. He realizes what he has done and drops his blade, rushing to Thia's side. "Shit—Thia!?" with a worried tone.

She bent down calmly and picked up her hand, examining the severed point with a mechanic’s precision.

"I’m alright," she murmured, rotating it as if checking a tool for damage.

"You didn’t hit anything critical. I won’t need a replacement." Dek’s shoulders finally loosened, a long, shaky breath escaping him. Relief, maybe a hint of guilt too?

Thia lifted her gaze to him. "What's wrong with you lately?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

Dek looked her in the eyes. "What?"

"You've been in a horrible mood, and your heartbeat...?" Her voice wavered. "It's been spiking a lot lately."

“Is there something wrong?” Thia tilted her head.

Dek froze. He regained his composure and decided to shrug it off.

"It’s nothing," he growled, mandibles tightening as he turned his face away. His tusks clicked, an unconscious sign of agitation he couldn’t suppress.

Thia wasn’t giving up so easily. Even with one hand dangling loosely by her side, she stepped forward, voice rising with more force than before.

“Come on, Dek! We’re like a family, you know—we should be—”

Dek just snapped, “I SAID IT’S NOTHING!!”

Thia went quiet. She was surprised, then realized she had pressured him. “Dek… I…”

But he cuts her off, “Just… go get your hand repaired.” He turns around, walking towards the door.

She watches him walk out. Thia sighed, “Well, shit…”

– – –

The ship’s clock pulsed its quiet blue glow, marking “night” even though space outside was only a sea of black. No moon, no stars. Just machinery hums and cold air with the stars outside the window. Thia had already fed Bud and helped him to sleep, but when she passed Dek’s open quarters, Dek’s sleeping mat was empty.

Again.

Worry prickled at her as she walked through the dim corridors, eventually spotting him in the central chamber. Dek stood there rigidly, broad back turned to her, staring at a mask he held in his hand.

She approached carefully, footsteps soft so he wouldn’t get startled like before.

“Dek?” she said his name softly.

He shifted, head turning slightly. “Thia? I thought you were asleep.”

“Well…” She has that silly smile, lifting a brow. “Synthetics don’t sleep, you know.”

Dek gave a low rumbling chuckle as he secured the mask back in its original place on the wall. Silence filled the room for a second. “Thia…” Dek spoke.

Thia perked up. “Yes?” Curious what Dek is going to say.

“I… well… earlier…” His mandibles twitched, clicking faintly in frustration. He was searching for words, something he rarely did. “I did not mean to… what happened.”

 Apologizing was foreign to him. Painful, even. 

Thia saw the way his shoulders tensed, how he struggled to force the admission out. So she exhaled softly and tilted her head, not a disappointed gesture, but one of gentle reassurance, the kind she knew he’d understand.

“I know,” she said quietly. “I understand.”

Dek looked her in the eyes. His chest rose with a hesitant breath, some of the tension draining from his massive frame… but not all.

There was more he wasn’t saying. Thia knew that.

Thia slowly approached him, one hand tucked behind her back, posture relaxed but eyes sharp with concern. “So… are you gonna tell me what’s been going on in your head?” she asked, tilting her head gently. “Or gonna keep it to yourself?”

Dek’s mandibles clicked once; it was hesitation. 

Then at last, with a low exhale, he gave in.

“Fine,” he rumbled. “I’ll tell you. But don’t make fun of me.”

“I will never!” She promised.

Chapter Text

On Yautja Prime, Dek sat on a rock by the mouth of a shadowed cave, mandibles flexing faintly as he watched the strange sky-birds glide across the copper-tinted heavens freely. Their long wings cut through the heat shimmer, calling out in tones that echoed against the jagged cliffs. He followed their movement with a quiet click of curiosity, anything to distract his mind.

His hand rose to his throat, talons brushing the faint, tender spot hidden beneath his dreadlocks. The skin there pulsed with the ghost of pain. He could still feel it.

Just earlier, before he left the house, his father’s crushing grip around his windpipe, the low snarl of disappointment rumbling from the elder male. Then the violent throw, Dek’s body hitting the ground hard enough to send dust pluming into the air and stars bursting behind his vision.

The lesson had been meant to “correct” him. To make him stronger. To remind him of his place. Or to remind him he is defective. He remembers his words, too. But prefer not to remember it.

And he wasn’t the only one who had seen it.

His brother, Kwei, had stood nearby. 

Their father never raised a hand to him. He didn’t have to.

Kwei was the perfect worthy son, the one who never faltered, never hesitated, and never disappointed. The worthy heir. Their father’s pride.

Dek felt the old twist of jealousy coil inside his chest. It stung to see how easily Kwei fit into the space Dek struggled to fill. But tangled with that jealousy was genuine, burning, and painful admiration. Kwei was everything Dek wanted to become.

And their father… Dek wanted to be like him, too.

Dek’s claws curled slightly as he stared out at the sky. He wanted to rise to their level, to earn that same silent nod of approval. To stand tall beside them instead of always kneeling under the weight of expectations.

He let out a sigh, leaning back against the rock wall behind him. Would it be different if he had not been born defective?

What if he wasn't born as a problem in his clan?

Would Father finally see him as the worthy son he wanted?

His gaze drifted away from the sky, settling on the jagged lip of the cave like he was thinking about doing something stupid knowing that won't wake him up from that stupid act. His mind spiraled with questions crowding one another, none of them with answers. He lowered his eyes to his claws, watching the faint tremble in them. Then to his arm.

Oh how He hated it.

Hated how his father’s eyes always lingered on him with disappointment. Hated how Kwei received the pride, the praise, and the nod of approval he longed for.

The bitterness twisted deeper

His claws pressed against his own skin before he even realized what he was doing. hard enough to break it, a thin line of dark blood welling as he dragged downward. It stung sharply, but it was nothing compared to the ache in his chest.

Oh, how he hated it all.

He hated being the black sheep of his clan.

He hated being so different.

He hated being the lesser son.
He hated being seen as the weakest.
He hated it when his father saw him as a burden.

But… could he truly hate Kwei?

Kwei, who always watched him with worry instead of scorn.
Kwei, who shielded him when their father’s temper rose too far.
Kwei, who cared for him more than their father ever had.

The only one who...

The thought halted him. The only one who had tried to help him through a tough time.

Dek blinked, breath catching as he snapped back to reality. He stared at his arm, at the shallow scratch tracing across his skin. The blood had begun to bead, trailing slowly. Only then did the pain fully register. sharp, real, and undeserved.

He sucked in a shaky breath as his mandibles drew tight, shame and fear colliding in his chest.

shit.

He'd better cover this up before anyone can see—"Dek?" Well, shit. 

Dek turns his head to the side. Kwei was staring at him, not at his eyes but at the bleeding scratch along his arm. His mandibles twitched with something between fear and fury. 

He tried to explain himself. "Brother, I—"

"What are you doing?!" Kwei’s roar shook the narrow cave, echoing off the stone. "Are you insane?!"

Before Dek could shrink away, Kwei was already striding toward him, dropping into a crouch at his side. His claws hovered uncertainly, as if he didn’t know whether to grab Dek or avoid hurting him further.

"I’m fine—" Dek muttered, shrinking back, shame prickling under his skin.

"Fine?" Kwei spat. "Fine? You were hurting yourself."

Dek’s gaze lowered. He had no excuse.

Not a single one that made sense.

Kwei’s breath hitched, the anger fading into something far heavier. He gently... almost hesitantly... took Dek’s wrist, turning the arm to examine the wound.

Dek’s throat tightened. He wanted to pull away. He wanted to sink into shame for being seen like this. He didn’t know which urge hurt more.

Kwei continued, quieter now, mandibles tucked close. "Brother… why would you do this to yourself?"

Dek couldn’t answer because he didn’t know how to admit that the pain inside felt worse than anything he could carve into his skin. Kwei decided not to push him further.

"Let's get this patch up before Father sees it." His hand reached out to pat Dek's head as if to comfort him.

Dek usually would’ve barked out a joke by now. some careless, bitter comment about how their father wouldn’t even notice if he bled out on the floor. It was his shield, his way of pretending none of this stung as deeply as it did.

But this time… nothing came. No joke or sarcastic click of his mandibles. Instead, Dek simply nodded.

Dek breathed in slowly. The ache in his arm pulsed, but the presence of his brother steadied him more than the pain ever could.

As long as Kwei stayed by his side… as long as he had even one person who cared enough to yell, to worry, to stay.

He could keep going.

He would keep training.
He would keep trying.

One day, he would stand tall like their father.
One day, he would stand proud like Kwei.

Even if it hurt now, even if the climb felt impossible...
He would become someone worthy.

Dek looked at his brother, a small, quiet determination settling into his bones.

As long as Kwei was still here…

He wouldn’t give up.

But...

He isn't here anymore.

Dek must remember that.

Kwei is Dead, Dek.