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Something was wrong.
Sun’s entire day had been off, truly. He woke up exceedingly early and could not stop moving. It was as if he needed to move, to stop… something. Dazzle didn’t notice, or at least she didn’t seem to understand his erratic attitude. Nobody brought attention to it. This was how Sun always was after all, he was just sad ever since… he brushed it off. Maybe he had finally been able to calm down, to be himself again. Moon was watching. Sun felt his eyes on him as he left the house. That made him anxious again, yet his smile never wavered.
The daycare was loud and bright. It was always like that, but Sun could hardly look up; it felt so harsh. He didn’t want it to be bright anymore… and yet he couldn’t switch off the lights. The idea of doing so caused the cold chill of dread to run through his systems and stop him in his tracks. In the back of his mind, he knew it was concerning, a reminder of trauma and conditioning. A product of PTSD, he learned a few years ago. Avoidance was the term. Something was wrong. But he couldn’t stop. He had to keep moving.
After the last child left the daycare, Sun caught his own stillness. Still waiting in that stupid waving pose he did. He abruptly tore his arm down, suddenly worried it was offensive, and convinced he had done something wrong. Again. He always did something wrong. He kept moving.
It was cleaning time! Oh, he loved this part! Sort of. For some reason, the obsession surrounding his cleaning routine was too normal. It was too quiet. Where was the sound? He only heard the whirring of his fans. Sun started to squeeze the cleaning spray’s handle, spattering one specific area of the yellow mattress over… and over. He needed noise. Something was wrong. He needed to fix it. Cleaning would fix it, hopefully! He couldn’t help but giggle to himself, but the noise was too abrupt. He shouldn’t speak. Now everything was bad and loud again. Why couldn’t he just… be comfortable? How can he fix this now?
He found himself at his house again. When did he get here? What time was it? Sun checked his internal clock, learning it was 5:38. Uneven. He pushed away the thoughts that assaulted him. 8? Why 8? Why couldn’t it just be 5:30? That would be fine. It would’ve been okay. He kept moving, making his way to the living room. He reached for the remote but stopped before he did, watching the time. At 5:40, he could use the TV. New rule. It was dangerous to watch before then. Where was everyone? Dazzle was at Terra and Monty’s; he knew that. Moon could just be at his lab or whatever. Solar and Jack were absent. Perhaps a father/son outing? Sun never paid attention to such things. He was still for too long. He had to move.
Sun began to pace around the living room, mumbling aimlessly to himself. He had waited too long to use the TV, it now being 5:41. He swore under his breath. His fingers interlocked as he walked up and down the stairs. He froze, convinced another thing had affected his well-being.
Someone was here.
He knew it. He knew that someone– no… something was in his home. It wanted to hurt him. He knew it was going to hurt him. He whirled his head around, scrambling down the stairs and locking every door that could access the outside. His room was off-limits now. It was where it’d see him. It’d hurt him if it saw him. He couldn’t look at the windows. It would see him. He fears its eyes. He knew it’d hurt him. He swore it would. He needed to protect himself. Sun, in a moment of blind mania, grabbed a kitchen knife and carefully tiptoed around. When did he start hyperventilating? When did it get dark out? It… it got dark earlier in the winter. Right.
Whenever a sound was heard, Sun’s grip on the knife tightened. Something was hunting for him. It was going to hurt him. They’d torture him until he had– he pulled on a ray to stop the thought from escalating. They were coming for him.
At some point, Sun had backed himself into a corner. A dark corner with his back against the wall and the knife outstretched in front of him. The grip he had on the weapon was getting painful as most of the power in his batteries was used to keep it steady. He couldn’t move anymore. Moving would kill him. It’d kill him. They would. They were coming. He heard the door open.
Moon was there. Moon was with them; he wasn’t safe. Sun somehow pressed himself farther into the wall.
“Sun?” Moon asked, putting a hand on his hip as he watched Sun spiral. After finally contemplating the knife pointed at him, Moon’s eyes widened, and he softened his body language. “Sun? What’s going on?”
“You’re going to hurt me,” Sun forced out. He hadn’t realized how dehydrated he was until his throat burned at every vowel. He couldn’t wince. Not now.
“No, it's okay, I’m not going to hurt you. What are you seeing?”
“I’m not seeing anything–”
Moon stepped forward, and Sun’s breathing quickened.
“You’re going to pass out at this rate– how long have you been… panicking?” Moon paused, trying to relieve Sun’s stress a bit.
“I’m not telling you shit.”
Moon let out a defeated sigh before replying. “That’s okay. Why would I hurt you?”
“Y-you’re with them.”
“... ‘them’?”
“They’re hunting me,” Sun whimpered, eyes boring into Moon’s as if looking away would be a death sentence.
“Who’s ‘them’?”
Sun stopped. He didn’t really know. “I-... I dunno- I just- I know they’re coming to kill me.”
“Sun, nobody is coming to kill you,” Moon reassured him, stepping closer to Sun’s horror.
“No- no no no- STOP–!” Sun threw the knife wildly in Moon’s direction. He moved. He wasn’t supposed to move. He started to wheeze and hyperventilate faster, burying his face in his hands. He felt his legs buckle slightly, and he leaned against the wall behind him. His body moved on its own to hit the wall a couple times. He didn’t want to, but he had to. He’d be safe if he just– if he–...
Moon hadn’t watched the knife clatter to the floor behind him. It had narrowly missed his faceplate, hitting the cabinets instead. Now, he was more focused on his brother. Sun had crumbled to the ground in a frantic spiral, now sobbing with fast mumbling about death.
“Sunny, it’s okay,” Moon muttered, kneeling to hug him, “You’re safe, I gotcha.”
Sun was safe. He realized it now. He knew Moon didn’t really like hugs, so the gesture was a rare comfort for him. He wiped at his tears and chuckled. “I- I look stupid.”
“Yeah, yeah- at least you’re with me now.”
A fresh dose of shame hit Sun, and he scrubbed at his tears, hoping to quickly recover from his silly episode. He stood on wobbly legs. When he started to walk towards the fridge, Moon grabbed his wrist. Sun caught his own flinch, knowing Moon saw it too.
Moon gave a smug smile. “I can cook for everyone today.”
“N-N-No, I- I can cook, it’s fi–”
“Nope. Rest.” Moon smiled, poking at Sun’s cheek, which brought a chortle out of the other.
Sun was still shaking and having a hard time regulating his breathing, so the forced break was likely a good choice. He smiled and wobbled over to the couch. He didn’t check the time and turned it on; he was safe now after all. The sizzling of bacon— fitting for Moon to make breakfast for dinner— lured Sun to rest mode.
Nothing was wrong.