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Crawling didn’t particularly enjoy the violence in the apartments. Before the arrival of the human, you, he didn’t give much thought to all the fighting for survival. It was just a part of life that he had to adjust to. He was more of a pacifist than everyone else but that suited him fine.
He was odd even by underworld standards. It didn’t bother him since more often than not, his odd nature would have the kinder inhabitants to gravitate towards him. Machete only ever pestered him if he happened to wander down that dilapidated part of the land and even then, he quickly grew bored and left well enough alone.
There weren't many residents that made Crawling feel uneasy or in fear for his life but if he had to list one that he didn’t enjoy too much, it would be the doctor; Mister Silvair.
The only reasons he ever crossed paths with the doctor was due to his humans insistence or by pure circumstance and even then, he quickly got out of there. It wasn’t that he couldn’t trust the doctor or anything but more about the air around him that unnerved Crawling and made him avoid that sinister hallway.
But of course, that was before you. When before he would high tail it out of Silvair’s line if sight, now he had an actual reason to go to him. He can only hope that Silvair would keep his inquisitive fingers to himself for a conversation.
Knock, knock, knock.
He sat before the door to the doctors office patiently, fingernails absentmindedly scratching at the concrete below. Such a silly, silly thing he’s doing but if there was anyone who could make it happen, it would be Silvair. Crawling can only hope that the man can make it a reality.
The door opens with a growling creak to reveal a person shrouded in white, smile ever present and a bit curious. His head slowly tilts down to meet the man below, pointed ears flicking upwards with interest.
“Oh, it must be my lucky day. I never thought I would see you here. Willingly, that is. With no friends.” Silvair chuckled, opening the door just enough to tease the crawling man.
He huffs out pathetically, managing a wobbly smile. “Your eyes aren’t mistaken! I’m really, really here! There’s something I’d like to talk with you about so if you could just let me in..-”
A sickly pink-beige leg sticks out to cover the opening between door and frame before Crawling could go through. “Without a formal invitation? No manners, Mister Crawling. I thought your little human would have shown you overworld etiquette.”
Crawling’s smile goes strained, sitting up straighter as if that had any chance of making him taller. He met with the doctors carefree smile and sighed, rolling his eyes. Thank goodness what little was left of his eyes were covered by his hair.
“Can we please talk?” With all the syrupy sweetness his voice usually was but with a cherry on top. It was pretty extra and over the top. “Inside? It would be a lot more comfortable for the both of us and…”
“And?”
“Aaand we may make use of your examination table.”
Silvair hums low and drawn out before opening the door open wide with a clear pep in his step. Crawling huffs out a puff of air that makes his hair move away from him. Annoying doctor…
The door shuts behind him and Crawling picks himself up to sit on the couch, legs draped diagonally at the bottom of the couch, his height still interfering with how comfortably he could sit but the reprieve was a delight. He stretches his legs out happily and slumps into the cushions of the couch, happy as all get out to sit on something so soft. Silvair joined him soon after with his body angled to him, head tilted, charmed by the display.
“So, whatever you came here for must be important if you sought me out. You rarely ever do that.” Silvair comments, posture poised and proper as ever, for once now even in their line of sight.
Crawling curled the ends of his hair before he finally nods, lips pursed together in an unsure wobble of emotions. He’d have to lay his heart out bare and surely get made fun of for it but it was a risk he had to make. It was the only way he’d be able to get what he wanted more than anything.
“I know that you’re working on and off to get Chopped his body back..” He starts slowly, tugging at his hair a little tighter than necessary. “How is that going..?”
Silvair was quiet for a moment before speaking, finger curled under his chin. “It’s a pet project of mine, yes. Unfortunately, Chopped is a lot more easily triggered to go into a frenzied state when he has his full body. Anything violent can set him off until he loses control of himself so there is far more work to be done. It is possible that the main cause for this is that the body parts being used for him are one from our fellow residents. Muscle memory seems to be very powerful and it overtakes his own instincts.”
Crawling nodded slowly, headed bowed slightly. So much he hadn’t even considered for this little dream of his.. He whimpered quietly. “So it is possible… Not likely but possible?”
“If you’d like to be optimistic, yes.” Silvair chuckled. “I don’t have much hope for it but the end result is very fascinating. I don’t believe he will ever have his true body back simply because the bodies I’m using for him are not his. His brain is the only thing left and even that isn’t enough to properly control all of his new limbs.”
Silvair quiets down as a rather tense and even somber silence overcomes the room. Crawling doesn’t seem to be very happy about the news but this was to be expected for a kind soul like his. His fingers trembled faintly, accidentally ripping a few strands of hair.
“But there is a chance that.. That he could control his body. Right? That he become normal?”
Crawling looked up to Silvair far more determined than he had any right to be. Perhaps it was a little silly to be this positive over such an outcome but it was admirable in its own right. He was always an oddball with his childish emotions towards everyone.
“A very low possibility, yes.” Silvair’s voice was rather flat, explicitly less enthused about the outcome.
Crawling smiled, practically vibrating in his seat. “Do you think that you can make me a new body? Make me entirely human?”
“Oh my.”
Silvair covered his mouth to stifle his laughter but it was only a matter of seconds until that wasn’t enough to muffle them. His shoulders bounced as he laughed freely, smiling widely as he shook his head in disbelief. Surely this wasn’t the craziest thing he’s ever heard and besides..! It wasn’t that funny!
The raven haired man huffed and leaned in closer. “I’m being serious, doctor. I want to become human. Like our human. I want to live in the overworld peacefully with them.”
While his laughter did dim into giggles that bubbled out on occasion, his amused and almost pitying smile never went away. “I can’t do that. Not right now, at least. To make a body purely from a human would require one very intact human or multiple to harvest different body parts. We are lacking in both areas.”
He taps at his chin in thought, humming. “If your dear human began turning into one of us due to their time down here then perhaps the reverse is plausible. It would be painful as well — Our bodies are not meant for that world. Gap is only able to visit and even then he cannot venture outside of dark areas. There is no telling what will happen if you stay up there for long periods of time, not even the short term.”
The harsh reality for such a fantastical idea comes crashing down on him much harder than Crawling had anticipated. He chews at his lower lip, sitting back and looking down to his hands, fiddling with his torn up clothes. The rewards outweighed the risks…
Right?
Silvair speaks once more. “Are you even certain that they enjoy your company as much as you believe? The language barrier is vast even with the pitiful bridge we have built. The words we mutually understand only get across some of what you mean. There will never be a time where a true, meaningful conversation can be had. You’ve experienced it first hand, yes? The barrier has nearly gotten them killed on multiple occasions.”
It pains him to nod, whimpering quietly. “We manage despite it… They learn quickly.”
“And what about you?”
“Me..?”
“Yes, you. How confident are you in your abilities to adapt to their way of life? Their language? Humans are different from us. There is an entirely different culture compared to what meager way of life we have here. While there isn’t as much violence, they follow strict rules that you must follow in order to survive and be in other humans' good graces. You hardly make do as is down here.”
“I can change,” He whispers, voice fighting against him in use. “I would change everything to be with them.”
“Be that as it may, what if it is all for naught?”
Cold digits cup at Crawling’s cheeks as they carefully trace over ever imperfection that stained greyed skin. His touch would trail to the upper portion of his face, delicately feeling over where the remains of his eyes were before pushing up his bangs to reveal the marred remains. Glassy eyes blink furiously as they attempt to adjust to the brightness, dried blood crust that surrounded his eyelids would only fester and scratch the skin.
His vision had never been a problem before but they were sensitive to harsh lights. The underground apartments worked in mysterious ways so his body naturally adjusted to the lack of use with his eyes following suit. What he could see much more vividly now, perhaps a little blurry if anything, was the frown that grew upon Silvair’s lips.
”What shall we do about these?” His thumb gently traced at the underside of his eye, rubbing away the dried tears and puss. “If your body adjusts to life up there, it will not fix what has been damaged. Your eyes may simply need glasses or at worse, you will become blind. No vision in a world foreign to you with no friends. No one to help you.”
Crawling trembled as he shook his head. “They would help me… I know they will! You can fix my eyes with all your tools and change my body so it will work! U-Use your science-!”
“They are human,” Silvair says in a hushed yet firm tone. “You are a monster. There is no amount of science that can change that. This dream of yours can never be more than that — A dream.”
There comes a heavy sigh from the doctor followed by arms that wrap around Crawling but he doesn’t pay much attention to it. It was only when he felt those same cold fingers wiping away at his eyes once more and caught the red residuals upon his fingers that it clicked how he had begun to cry. A shaky whine escapes him as his body curls up into the lukewarm warmth beside him, high pitched whimpers echoing off the walls as he cries his heart out.
Contrary to popular belief, Silvair does not like to see his friends in anguish. Pain, torment, and hellish torture was reserved for the lesser creatures that roamed the halls but never for his friends. So while Crawling may not have considered the two of them to be friends, the same could not be said for Silvair.
He held his friend carefully and rubbed his back, letting the man cry out his emotions. Such a conversation could have been held more delicately but Silvair was never one to mince his words or sugar coat them. Matters of the heart and emotions should never be handled willy nilly or through rose colored lenses. It was only a matter of time until Crawling and to confront reality.
Crawling stirred in his eyes to look up to him, the remnants of his eyes puffy and clearly in pain from crying. “But… I love them.”
”If you really love them, you’ll let them go.”
Silvair wipes away at the tears that quickly replaced the old, taking quiet note that they appeared to be somewhat normal now. A mild change that could be studied at a later time. “This is not to say that you should crush your emotions for them. Learn to accept that you will not be able to cross worlds and coexist. Not even your human could stay here unscathed so pardon my bluntness, what hope do you have up there?”
The crawling man whimpered once more and shrugged, wiping away at his eyes despite more hot tears dripping down his cheeks. He didn’t have an answer that could satisfy either of them and perhaps that hurt him the most of all.
Nighttime comes but the two stay sheltered in the couch. At some point Chopped would stop by and end up staying, seated upon his cushion as he listens to the two others talk amongst themselves. The air is still as heavy as it had been hours ago but at the very least Crawling isn't crying anymore.
In his dreams, he’s somewhere he can’t quite put a name to but he knows it’s safe and warm. Somewhere that he doesn’t have to be wary of others and most importantly, he is loved and happy.
There are stray tears that fall past his cheeks as that dream future dances around in his head. Time is all he has and maybe the slight possibility will become a reality. He would do anything to achieve that.