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Moe’s the one to tell him. That’s the one part he can focus on, that Moe is the one to tell him. That Regect wasn’t even good enough to notice it. That Regect had to have Moe tell him.
He doesn’t bring it up for a few days. Doesn’t know how to. How does one bring this up? How do you go to someone you love and tell them that they’re killing themselves? How do you get someone you love to love themselves?
He tries to wait for Ze to bring it up, but he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t, he’s Ze.
(The worst part about it all, if Regect’s being utterly and brutally and selfishly honest, is that Ze doesn’t come to him. Ze’s drowning, he’s starving and still he doesn’t go to Regect, doesn’t go to the person he supposedly loves. Doesn’t ask for help or reach out a hand. Let's Regect believe that everything is okay, lets Regect believe, foolishly, that he had somehow made it better.)
Regect doesn’t know how to bring it up. Knows the anger that’s festering needs to wait until Ze’s better, knows he needs to be calm and loving and kind and all the things he can’t be. Thinks that’s why he’s waiting so much, trying to carve kind words out of simmering rage is no easy feat, and Regect’s failing. He’s failing.
There’s no way to soften the twister of feelings, and there’s no way out but through.
(Regect’s scared that this might kill Ze. He’s fucking terrified that if he says one wrong word, makes one misstep that horrible frozen state Ze sometimes goes to will be permanent, and oh is it so wrong to let Ze stay like this? Would it be so bad to run back under the cover of obliviousness? Isn’t it better to have Ze like this? Sick; but alive.)
There’s no way to soften Regect. There’s no way out but through.
“Hey, Ze?” Regect calls as he enters the man’s – their – room. He sees Ze tense. “I just, uh, wanted to talk about something.”
Ze doesn’t look up from the bed. “See, I’m a bit busy – so maybe this could, um, wait, a little.”
He holds the anger down; he tries not to drown in it. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think it can.”
Ze nods, still not turning around. “...How?”
Regect doesn’t need any elaboration; Regect hates that he doesn’t need elaboration. How long has this been on Ze’s mind? How long has Regect finding out been a worse fear to Ze than whatever’s been happening to him.
“Moe told me.” Regect’s not angry. He’s not. “Said she heard you in the bathroom a few days ago. Where you ever going to tell me?”
Ze flinches. Regect tries again to butcher his anger.
“I’m just – worried. I’m worried, Ze.”
“...I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“I am,” Ze insists, “It’s - it was just a bad day.”
Regect blinks. Chokes on his own tongue. “It seems like you’ve had a little more than just one bad day.”
“Then I’ve been having a bad week! I think I fucking deserve that, at least!”
“I’m not saying that you don’t!”
“Then what are you saying, huh!? That I should be better by now? That I’m taking too much time-”
“You’re not taking any time! You’re not-”
“Don’t fucking interrupt me! I’m-”
“You’re starving yourself!” Regect screams, and immediately regrets it when Ze freezes, breath cutting off like a doll. “I’m worried,” he repeats, bleeding desperation.
“I’m fine,” Ze responds on impulse and Regect wants to hit something until his knuckles bleed. He has to remain clam here, has to be the one staying calm.
“You’re really not.”
Ze says nothing. What is there to say?
“It’s not anything bad-”
“Ze-”
“It’s not,” the man insists, “It’s not – I've been fine.”
And Regect – Regect just deflates. He can’t convince Ze to see himself like Regect does – can't convince him that anything's wrong, can’t change Ze. He has to make his peace with that, has to understand that Ze might not want to get better.
But actually no, fuck that shit.
“Nope. No way. Fuck off with that bullshit. You’re like a fucking elephant with sepsis and we’re gonna fucking fix that-”
“I’m not something to be fixed-”
“Shut up, you don’t get an opinion,” he grabs at Ze, diving onto the bed and collapsing on top of him, ignoring how hard he’s being hit. “Right, so, you’re being selfish.”
“I’m not-”
“Ze. I love you.” That shuts Ze up well and good. Who knew all it took was a genuine display of affection? “And because I love you, I want you to fucking stay around, right? And, Moe also loves you, so she wants you to stay around. And like, be happy or something. And do you know what you’re doing?”
“I’m trying,” Ze says, something desperate behind his eyes.
Regect softens, “I know, I know. But you’re not trying hard enough.”
Ze flinches, stops fighting and cuts like a lifeless doll under him. Regect hates himself; will hate himself for this for a long time.
“Ze,” the man pulls away from his touch. It’s fine. Everything's fine. “You’re not – you're – I get it, alright, I know that you’re trying, but... It’s not working. What you’re doing right now isn’t working.”
Ze, once again, says nothing.
“Ze?”
Then come the sobs.
Regect has never heard Ze cry, even after the Hole and the Eyes and everything Ze had told him very quietly under the covers, Regect has never heard Ze cry. Ze doesn’t; Ze is.
It starts quiet – Regect doesn’t know when it started, doesn’t know what to do – but it gets steadily louder, once Ze stops choking himself off, smothering himself in the bedsheets.
“Ze, look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it-”
“Don’t lie.”
“Okay, okay, but, I didn’t - I didn’t mean to be – I know how hard you try, I do-”
“I didn’t - I don’t know how to stop, Regect. It’s not – I've been like this – this is me. How am I supposed to change that?”
And he’s shaking now, tremors galore, wound so tight underneath him that Regect’s scared Ze’s muscles will snap.
“Not - not... You don’t have to do it by yourself, Ze. You don’t - I’m right here, and so is Moe, and like, you’re not – we're here. And, like, you know, if you find something hard, then, like, we can help. Let me help.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Then just, just let me try, that’s all. Just, don’t give up before even, like, trying – this isn’t all you are – you're not just what you were made to be, or like, what people wanted you to be or – or you’re just you. I just – I'm here. I need you to remember I’m here.”
Ze just cries louder, and Regect doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to console him, so he just lies there instead. This is unchartered territory; this is somewhere he’s never been to before. He tries all he can, but it doesn’t work, Ze’s still sobbing. Ze’s still breaking.
“Regect?”
“Yeah - what do you – what do you need?”
“I think – I think I might not be completely fine.”
Regect tightens his hold, “That’s okay – I'm here. I’m here.”
Ze just gets louder, but it’s fine – it's fine – it's not fine, but Regect’s here, and he’s here to stay, and Ze’s not doing well but it’s fine. He’ll get better. Everything’ll get better. Regect's here to stay, and it'll all get better.