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His chest aches.
Evilfies was taking some notes on his latest clone, sitting in the dark of his office. He doesn't even know what time it is. The area around his desk has a permanent scent of coffee due to his crippling caffeine addiction, albeit necessary to achieve his ambitious project.
The clock ticks idly in the back serving as background noise while Evilfies makes sense of algebraic formulas and blueprints under the too-bright white light. In the middle of his brainstorming of what to change from his previous clone, #1152—he gets hit suddenly with a sharp pain right in the middle of his chest, making his breath hitch quickly in alarm.
“Maybe all that caffeine is finally catching up to me.” Evilfies mumbles indignantly to himself.
He refocuses his attention back to the blueprint, adding annotations as he finds errors he had so foolishly missed. Scribbles of pen fill the room, until a soft click echoes through the quiet corridor. Evilfies snaps his head up, already knowing the face he's going to see.
His clone, #1108 enters. His prodigy amongst all the pitiful failures that dare call themselves replicas of himself. Evilfies always feels a small sense of pride deep within his gut whenever he sees #1108, because he created that and he practically ruined a server upon release from his facility.
How could he not feel at least a little bit proud?
“Evilfies–”
“You didn't knock,” Evilfies said sharply, raising an eyebrow at his rudeness.
“My apologies” Directorfies mutters annoyed.
He was always such a rebel to Evilfies simple asks, after all shouldn't he be grateful that he wasn't scrapped like the rest of the clones? Evilfies thought to himself. Evilfies lets out an exasperated sigh at the audacity.
“What is it #1108?” Evilfies asks, looking at him expectantly as he urges for an answer. He doesn't have time for his nonsense.
His jaw clenches tightly as he hesitates for a fraction of a second and then he responds,
“I would suggest that you let me contribute to your little cloning project, I think I can provide some valuable input.” #1108 states firmly, clasping his hands together in front of him. He holds a level stare with Evilfies, full of genuineness. Evilfies could almost laugh.
“Oh, really?” He asks, posing as curious at his overzealous suggestion. “I thought you didn't like the clones?” He tilts his head, staring inquisitively at #1108.
“Well–” He pauses to recompose himself. “I had a change of heart, think of it as a thank you for helping me.” #1108 remarks, feigning enthusiasm. Evilfies notices the subtle fidgeting of his thumb scratching at his other hand.
Evilfies hums in response.
"And this has nothing to do with your request for me to help you get unbanned?” Evilfies responds, mocking #1108's enthusiastic tone. Evilfies watches as his pupils dilate at the call out for a split second.
“Of course not.” He answers too quickly.
“Right.” Evilfies utters, turning his head back down towards his papers.
“I mean it! I just want to help.” He exclaims, trying to catch Evilfies attention again and failing miserably.
“Look– your recent clone products have been mediocre compared to the others. Even all the reports you write have been barely legible!”
“Why are you snooping in those?” Evilfies stands up quickly, hands bracing his weight on the desk when a wave of dizziness washes over him.
“That doesn't matter— I think I can assist, plus things are boring around this laboratory. I think it would be greatly beneficial to progress rather than me just watching you drive yourself to insanity by repeating the same three variants of clones and claiming it's different than the last!” He declares steadily, too much so for Evilfies liking.
Evilfies feels another sharp pang in his chest and an itchiness sensation taking over his throat.
“You forget yourself, may I remind you that you are just a clone as well?” He says coldly, shutting down the thought before it can continue to blossom. “I think you should go back to your room and remind yourself that it's a blessing that I am not scrapping you.” He states quietly but full of anger at the claims that he's incompetent.
“Hear me out–”
“Leave.” Evilfies cuts him off. “I mean it.”
Evilfies watches as #1108 turns his heels and storms back out of the office muttering insults under his breath. It’s amusing to watch as he slams the door behind him.
Suddenly, the sensation in his throat becomes overwhelming, turning into a coughing fit. He hacks into his elbow, struggling to catch his breath through the aggressive coughs. He feels a wet sensation as he coughs one last time, something coming out of his mouth.
He looks down at his hand to see what it was, and
A bloodied purple petal is what he is met with. He freezes at the sight.
What in the world?
-
Evilfies was observing bacteria under his microscope when he felt the familiar itch of his throat and deep ache blossoming in his chest, quickly turning away and standing up out of his chair. He rushes out of the lab in a daze before slouching over as harsh coughs wrack through his entire body. The entire room is spinning around him and he stumbles into a wall.
Once the coughing starts, he finds it impossible to stop— as if it’s a dam breaking. Blood splatters onto his pristine white coat, staining the previously clean fabric. Evilfies doesn't find himself too concerned about it— he has spares for a reason.
He feels himself choke on something velvety and thick as it claws through his already sore throat and eventually ejects out of his mouth. His chest burns with every cough, feeling like a fire is burning in his body. He doesn't spare another look at what it could be, too focused on trying to calm his coughing.
What he is worried about is being heard. As of late, #1108 has been rather nosy about how he spends his hours— always having a weird look in his eyes and Evilfies finds himself uncomfortable and quickly sends him away afterwards.
So, he tries to muffle his hacking to the best of his ability. He doesn't want to deal with prying eyes after all. Luckily for him, his coughing fit finally begins to ease, letting him catch his breath.
Exhaustion washes over him like a tidal wave, he allows himself to slump down in the closet he locked himself in during his haze. His back slides down the wall causing a slightly too loud ‘thump’ sound. Evilfies lets his head lull backwards, hitting the cold deepslate wall as he reaches upwards to fix his glasses that were sitting uncomfortably on his face.
“I really need to figure out what this is..” He mumbles to himself, irritated at this inconvenience.
Whatever sickness that has taken its grip on him has really started to affect his work. He finds that he's sluggish getting around the lab and missing the most blatant of details causing him to have to revisit his own report constantly to fix errors.
It’s so inconvenient that he has started to consider allowing his clone to assist him, as pitiful as it is.
Maybe it would increase productivity because he hasn't even gotten close to creating another new model.
He’s really losing his touch, huh?
He finally feels his heart rate start to slow into a cleaner rhythm in his chest and his breathing gets less ragged. He decides that he has had plenty of rest, and pushes himself off the floor. He wipes a sheet of sweat off his forehead and goes to exit his closet, leaving behind a fully bloomed violet clematis on the floor, covered in red blood and residue from his throat.
Gross.
–
“Shit!” Evilfies shouts as a compartment explodes on him, splattering dark liquid all over his face. He quickly wipes aggressively at the dripping oil on his face to keep it from going into his eyes.
He hears quiet footsteps echo from behind him, and he feels the heavy weight of eyes watching him boring into his back.
“You sure you got this ‘handled’” #1108 asks, footsteps getting louder as he approaches the monstrosity in front of him.
Evilfies simply ignore him, wiping the cold oil off his skin. He feels exhausted to his bones, and even moving his arms feels like a workout with how heavy they feel. He huffs out a sigh as he gets off his knees and back onto his feet.
“I know you are too prideful to admit that I can actually help you, but this is just pathetic.” #1108 whispers behind him, warm air brushing past his ear.
Though, he keeps his hands away from him– making sure not to touch.
“Don't pity me.”
He whips around shoving his clone backwards with two hands and storming past him while #1108 struggles to reclaim his balance. The white coat floats lightly behind him as he stomps towards the door to exit the lab.
“There's something wrong with you and I can't put my finger on what it could be.” The clone says, seemingly to himself. Evilfies stops in his steps, hesitating at the tone.
“Stay in your lane #1108. My kindness isn't endless and you know I am not above scrapping you.” He declares, not turning to meet the familiar face. His chest feels like agony— sharp prickles stabbing inside his esophagus as it slowly creeps upwards through his throat.
He knows what’s going to happen, and so he quickly makes his leave shoving open the door and exiting the room. Leaving the curious gaze of the other wives in the dust.
The poorly-lit hallway blurs together as his head spins making him stumble despite his quick pace. All he can think about is getting away from the prying eyes of #1108– to get in his own little box and succumb to whatever illness is plaguing him. He finally finds the familiar dark oak door that leads to his bedroom. He slams open the door, not caring about how loud the sound is.
Finally, his knees buckle. The coughs he was holding back forcefully took over again. Splatters of blood and violet petals spill all over the stone floor. He feels himself hyperventilating as he struggles to catch his breath between coughs– the time between each closing shorter and shorter.
His body feels light with nausea as he continues to half cough-half puke all over his floor. He couldn't even make a face of disgust at the scene, too focused on trying to catch his breath and not pass out from asphyxiation.
Black spots speckle over his vision– he could feel his throat close on him as he wheezes for air. His glasses quickly slip off his face at his bent-over position, falling into the mess of flowers, blood, and spit.
Soon he falls with it– using the last bit of strength he has to collapse to the side away from his putrid vomit.
—
Wifies doesn't take Evilfies refusal as an answer.
He follows behind— watching him stumble through the halls in complete silence.
He keeps his distance so as not alert him, no matter how out of it he seems. He knows the man is just as paranoid as he can be. He watches as he stumbles into his chambers, walking quietly as he slowly approaches the door behind him.
He hears a lot of coughing through the walls, even as the door is shut.
‘So he is sick then’, Wifies thinks to himself, shrugging his fur coat back up on his shoulders. He presses his hand against the door, bracing himself for whatever may lie behind it, and pushes it open.
“Yo? What are you doing-” He cuts himself off once he sees Evilfies bent over himself, blood smeared on the floor, and what looks to be petals mixed within it.
“Wha-” he is cut off again by wheezing from the other man. Alarm bells ring in his head as he rushes forward to Evilfies.
“Are you good?!” He practically shouts, bending over to grab his shoulder. He looks at Evilfies’ eyes– they are glazed over and unfocused. Wifies hears one more wheezing breath before he feels Evilfies fall limp in his grasp.
He quickly drags him to the left to keep him from falling onto his vomit. Then, he watches as he falls onto the cold floor in shock.
He quickly moves over to Evilfies neck to check his pulse, he places two fingers over his carotid artery.
He feels a pulse, weak and uneven but present.
He exhales shakily, not quite letting himself relax.
Then, he carefully lifts the unconscious body, bracing against the weight.
–
Evilfies awakes with a wet feeling on his forehead and a soft, plush surface underneath his fingers. His mouth feels completely dry causing him to grimace at the feeling.
“You’re awake.”
His eyes shoot open in alarm at the sound, as he sees his clone, the familiar fur coat and the green feather necklace he always wears.
“What is wrong with you?!” He shouts in surprise, focusing in on the weird look on #1108 face.
“What is wrong with me– I just helped you!” He yells back indignantly. “You passed out on the floor in your own blood and I cleaned you up. The least I could get is a thank you!” He huffs out annoyed at the hostility.
“What did I tell you about minding your own business?” He glares into the heterochromic eyes.
“Oh lord forbid I notice something! You were acting weird and whenever I asked about it you dodged me!” He meets Evilfies back with the same heat.
Evilfies sighs at his stubbornness, falling back onto the pillows and turning away from the clone. Refusing to acknowledge him any longer in hopes he will just disappear. He listens to the clock tick softly in the background as he stares at the gray wall. He hears no movement from the man behind him.
Eventually his patience breaks and he slightly turns around to see if he somehow left. Instead he is met with concerned eyes and a frown. His chest tightens at the look— quickly turns back away as a warm feeling consumes him.
“This is so embarrassing.” He whispers out loud.
A small laugh echoes behind him.
“Stop laughing!”
He feels his face practically turn beet-red as humiliation consumes him.
“You know… I won't leave even if you pretend I am not here.” He mutters amused.
“You are insufferable,” Evilfies mutters, voice lacking any real bite.
“And yet,” #1108 replies, settling more comfortably in the chair, “you’re still talking to me.”
Silence stretches again.
“You shouldn't have seen that. I kept it a secret for a reason,” He mumbles, still facing the wall.
“Well… I did.” He answers softly. “Heres your glasses, I cleaned them up for you”.
He feels a hand on his shoulder nudge him, he places his hand out waiting for #1108 to drop them in his palms. Eventually he does, and he swiftly puts them back on his face, clearing his blurry vision.
As the awkward silence stretches out, he begins to fiddle with the cuticles of his fingers, continuing to refuse to acknowledge his clone. He hears shuffling behind him, he assumes it's #1108 moving around in his seat.
“I think I know what's wrong with you.” His clone states, waiting for Evilfies to turn back around.
“So…?” He asks, waiting for an answer but refusing to turn to look at the man.
“Turn around and I’ll tell you” He teases lightly.
Evilfies balls his hand into the sheets in annoyance. “Seriously?” he asks.
“Dead serious.”
He mutters a quick “fine.” and shuffles back over to look at his clone, who tilts his head at him.
“Parrot told me something about this back on Unstable. A disease that causes a flower to bloom inside you. I think it was something called… Hanahaki? I think it is.” He answers. His eyes trail over Evilfies body– seemingly searching for something. Evilfies doesn't recognize the name, looking at #1108 confused.
“It– um.. happens when-” He pauses, a noticeable tint of pink appearing on his pale cheeks, “When you are in love with someone– and it can only be fixed with a reciprocation of feelings..” He trails off.
“Well. I am not in love with anyone– That can't be possible” He exclaims sharply. Eyes staring intently at his clone at the accusation.
“Well… there's nothing else that makes you vomit clematis onto the floor and– I don't know why you are trying to hide it. You and I both know that this is what's happening. You will die if you don't figure this out.” He states seriously, trying to knock sense through Evilfies thick skull of denial.
“Well– you are wrong. It has to be something else. I think I would know if I am in love.” His eyes flick down away from his clone piercing gaze.
“Would you?” He asks calmly, “Look at me for a second”
Evilfies eyes meets #1108, seeing a stern look laced with a bit of worry.
“When did this start? Be honest with me.” He asks plainly.
“That's none of your-” Evilfies hesitates, shifting uncomfortably under the blankets.
“When,” he repeats, firmer now.
“Two months ago.” He responds, eyes moving to look away from his face and instead at the wall behind him.
“So around the time I came back from Unstable?” He questions, but isn't met with a response. He already knows the answer anyway. Evilfies jaw tightens.
His clone grabs his jaw, turning his gaze away from the wall back onto his face. Evilfies glares into his eyes at the touch, but #1108 seems unbothered by it.
“Is that why you are so insistent that I must leave you alone? Because there's something there?” He ponders outloud. Evilfies doesn't give him a response.
“You don't have to call it love… but you have to admit you do feel something.” Evilfies feels his cheeks burn at the claim. “You feel it enough that your body is reacting to it.”
“It means nothing.” He responds finally.
“It means everything, you can pretend that this doesn't exist all you want, but your body says otherwise. Now, you pay the consequences.” He tilts his head to the other side, gaze softening.
Evilfies’ eyes flick away from the others’ eyes again, knuckles whitening from his harsh grip he has on the comforter.
“And if you are wrong?” He mumbles quietly, finding himself feeling completely embarrassed.
“Then we’ll figure it out. We’ve had our differences but– I can't just let you die. Not like this.” He taps Evilfies’ face with his finger.
He flinches at the touch.
“Just… Don't tell anyone, please?” Evilfies’ pleads looking back at his clone eyes.
“I won’t– but I am not letting you writhe in your pain alone.” He says with a small chuckle. “This time, you are going to let me
help.” He simply requests.
Evilfies doesn't respond, just exhaling slowly. He lets the tension drain out of his shoulders and his grip loosen out of the comforter. Just barely.
#1108 doesn't push any further, releasing his jaw and leaning back.
He lies back down in the bed, letting his eyes drift shut. His head is full of thoughts about how the hell he managed to get himself in this position. But, at least now he doesn't have to figure it out alone.
His mouth quirks up into a small smile at the realization.