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Regect wakes up warm.
He blinks, eyes blurring. His claws dig into the soil in front of him, the grass brushing gently across his knuckles. The early morning sun stares down at him, saving him from the cold morning air. Regect looks around, confused.
He’s outside. But he doesn’t— this isn’t where he slept. Or—. Did he? Regect can’t remember. Everything these past few days have been a blur of movement and stagnancy. He wouldn’t be surprised if had stopped here. Stared at the moon until even her pitying gaze turned away from him, waiting for nothing. There’s nothing worth remembering about the days anymore. Not when it’s all the same. Not since—
Regect squeezes his eyes shut. For a moment he doesn’t breathe, the ache in his chest hollowing him out from the inside.
Regect rises up from his knees, looking around. It’s a field, empty and plain. Despite the lack of anything, it’s familiar. The sight greets him every time he steps out of the house. He’d recognize it morning or night.
“You’re kidding.” Regect mutters dryly. He turns around and as expected, sees their home in the distance. How embarrassing, “..Couldn’t even walk a few feet home.”
Regect sighs, resigning himself to his fate. He wonders if Moe had seen him when she went in. Or went out. Both of them rarely stay inside anymore. Why would they, when there’s nothing to find there? When what they’re looking for is out here, somewhere?
Either way he must have worried her. Regect berates himself internally as he starts trudging back to the house. Maybe if she’s still in they can go out together, this time. It’s been a while. That used to be their system, until the slow, terrifying thought that they’d have to start splitting up to cover more space became a hesitant suggestion, and then became reality.
“..Huh.” Regect slowly comes to a halt, staring at the distance between him and the home. He hasn’t been walking long at all, maybe a minute or two, but the house doesn’t seem to be getting any nearer. If anything it seems just as far as he’s started. Regect frowns.
He starts a small sprint, trying to gauge the distance, starting to run faster when the house doesn’t move. It stays perfectly still, as if it were part of a backdrop with the sky, innocent and unmoving, not real.
Regect stops, “What the hell,” he pants. Distantly, he feels himself reach downward, feeling desperately at his chain. His hand meets the cool cloth of a black bandana wrapped around his cuff and he relaxes, gripping at it tightly.
“...Think I’m going crazy, Ze.” He says, humorless.
Nobody answers. He’s grown used to this by now.
Regect unties the bandana from his wrist cuff, wrapping it around his clawed hand once, twice, closing his fist to hold it in place, “How are we gonna get outta here,” he murmurs, looking off into the distance again. If he can’t go back home right now might as well try to go out. Not like he has anywhere else he needs to be.
He walks off, going straight. He turns around to look and lets out a breath of relief when the house looks like it’s getting further, and further away. He’ll figure out how to get back later.
“Might try heading east today,” he says, “Don’t know where Moe’s goin’. I know she tried the village you blew up a few months ago,” he snorts, can almost hear Ze cursing at him, telling him ‘no jackass that was you’, “I’ll message her in a few, see if we can meet up somewhere.”
Regect stops walking. “Hey, Ze.” The wind blows quietly. It feels unbearably empty. “You know I—”
“Regect?”
Regect inhales sharply.
Something inside him bursts, crumples, reopens. His body ripples. All it takes is the sound and Regect’s gone, his body moving before his mind can comprehend what he’s hearing.
He turns around and oh. Oh.
His lungs burn.
“Ze?” Regect rasps.
He stumbles forward. There’s no grace in his movements, no certainty in his steps— and Regect could give less of a fuck about it, only clings on to the strength in his legs because if he fell now Ze might. He might… Regect can’t— can’t take his eyes off of him. He’s missed him. Missed him with a solid fucking ache, and it still hurts across his chest, carving him inside out.
Ze stares back at him. Whole and complete. He looks almost older, standing taller, his eyes brighter. Lighter than Regect’s ever seen him. Ze used to always carry a weight he refused to share, kept hidden and close, one that dragged at his eyes and made him wary of everything. Of Moe. Of Regect.
That should have been the first warning sign.
Regect is willfully blind.
“What are you doing, weirdo.” Ze huffs, almost amused, almost fond.
Regect should— punch him across his fucking jaw. Regect should pull him by the collar and scream at him, demand why he went missing for a month, leaving nothing for them to hold on to. How dare he smile like that, like this hasn’t been the worst month of Regect’s life, all too familiar and still so fucking new because the last person he’d expect to leave would be Ze.
Regect should. But he doesn’t want to.
All he wants to do is bring Ze home.
“Ze,” Regect croaks out, like a broken record, ”Fuck, we’ve been looking— god, I thought—”
Regect reaches for him—
—and meets nothing. His hand phases straight through Ze’s shoulder, cutting through his form like he’s a projection. Maybe he is.
Ze’s still smiling, still looking straight at him. It’s cruel. Regect wants to bury his hands into the earth and scream.
It’s not real. Of course it isn’t.
“Fuck,” Regect hisses. Ichor leaks down his face, and it stings. He digs his palms roughly into his eyes, “Fuck!”
It feels like seeing Micha's ghost again. Catching a glimpse and not making it far enough to reach him, except now he has. He has and it doesn't fucking matter. Ze's not here.
“Fuck you,” he spits at the projection, “Don’t— don't fucking do this to me, man.”
It’s meant to sound angrier, but all that he manages is defeat. He slumps down in front of Not Ze, dirtying his knees and digging his claws into soil. He stares at the black bandana around his hand. Regect wonders if this is the closest he’ll ever get to Ze again.
“..You’re acting weird,” it starts to say again, its voice lilting like it’s actually confused. Regect hates it. Hates how real it sounds. Hates how he could close his eyes and pretend.
“..Regect?”
“Don’t,” Regect says, pained, hunching over even further, “Shut the hell up… don’t say my name with his voice.”
Regect looks up, because he’s still fucking weak, all this time later, and— Not Ze’s not looking at him anymore. It stares straight ahead, eyes familiar and expectant. Regect turns around just as another voice echoes out.
“Boo.” Regect freezes. “Did I scare you?”
That voice.
“Oh, fuck you, dude, I fucking knew it.”
“No you fuckin' didn’t! You were totally scared, oh my god you’re such a wuss.”
“‘Wuss' what time period do you think we’re in, smartass, nobody uses wuss.”
“I use wuss. It's a completely normal word.”
“Weren’t you born like 70 years ago?”
“Fuck you, dude.”
Regect can barely hear the words over the static in his mind as he stares at the person Ze is so animatedly having a conversation with, the familiarity in their conversation, the warmth of its tone.
He stares as another Regect, completely identical to him, walks up right in front of Ze, passing Regect like he's nothing more than a shadow. Ze’s brows are furrowed in the way they used to be when Regect did exceptionally well trying to piss him off, softened at the edges. Other Regect— god is this always how he looked talking to Ze? Regect can hear the smile in his own fucking voice. Can see the relaxed way he stands, almost subconsciously leaning closer towards Ze. It’s a fucking wonder Ze hasn’t realized yet. Everybody else ought to have.
This is a dream. It has to be.
It’s not a memory. Regect would know. Maybe it’s a fucked up scenario his brain is making up, a manifestation of ugly desperation and yearning. A what-could-have-been made to haunt him.
They keep on bickering like they’re the only two people in the world. Regect is a stranger in his own fucking dream. Other Regect smiles at Ze, and it’s terribly fond. The way Regect can only ever do in secret. Regect’s arm twitches, his jaw clicking. How fucking stupid would it be to be jealous of himself.
Other Regect throws an arm over Ze’s shoulders. Ze jolts like he doesn’t expect it, but the uncertainty is eased when Regect laughs loudly, and suddenly he’s throwing an insult back, like it’s as natural as breathing.
Ze looks so real he aches. Regect can only stare at the way he fights to keep his mouth from turning upwards, the small grin when Other Regect falls for his quips. Regect tries to memorize the lines of his smile like he did before.
Other Regect turns away as Ze starts complaining about the pirate— god Regect’s missed that fuckass pirate if it meant Ze would be shooting at him— and for a moment just stares at the side of Ze’s face.
Then its eyes turn to Regect’s. And it smiles.
..What?
Suddenly it all slows down. Regect barely processes the way his arms begin to feel heavy, his feet chained to the ground by something, like he’s melting into it. He can only remember Other Regect’s smile, and the way it looked right at him when he fucking did it .
Something’s wrong.
This isn’t a dream.
T im es u p.
“Ze?” Regect calls, heart pounding. This— this isn’t a dream. So that means— “Ze!”
Ze turns, brows furrowed, and Regect’s heart fucking jumps.
Other Regect stares as Ze looks away. It looks on quietly. It’s— It’s not him. Those aren’t Regect’s eyes. They keep staring, eyes never leaving Ze's. “..What’s up.”
Ze looks uneasy, gaze dropping when he sees nothing there, “Nothing. Nothing, I could have sworn I heard…”
“Must be hearing things,” Other Regect says gleefully, fake and plastic. Regect wants to bash his non-existent skull in, has never felt more violent towards himself, “Nothing’s out here, Ze.”
Regect has a feeling it’s talking to him too.
Ze looks shaken, only for a moment. He catches himself, and allows Other Regect to turn him away, “Right. Yeah. I must be. Let’s go, Moe’s waiting.”
“Ze,” Regect says, heart lurching. He feels himself physically getting tugged away. Regect knows, knows Ze won’t hear him again, but even so, he has to let him know—
“I’ll find you.” Regect promises. The oath settles for the both of them, even if Ze can’t hear it. Regect feels himself fading. Regect staggers forward, desperate, “I’m- I'm gonna find you, Ze. I’ll find you, I swear it. I’m bringing you back.”
Ze doesn’t turn around again.
It goes black, and the last thing that leaves Regect’s mouth is Ze’s name.
N ic e T ry.
H e st ay s h ere, entity.
G o od by e.
Regect wakes up. It’s cold.
Moe is beside him, honking in panic, trying to help him sit up as Regect gasps for air.
They’re outside. The air is biting. The grass sways gently, brushing against them.
Regect grips at the bandana, brushing a thumb over the cloth. He remembers Ze’s uncertainty. The way he hesitated. How close he was.
He’s going to find Ze. Creepy eyes be damned.