Chapter Text
To tend to the plants you need steady, gentle hands. You need to carefully brush the dirt away and dig a hole. To plant a tiny seed, and to let it bloom.
Such tender hands like that shouldn’t shake. They shouldn’t shake with any weight. They shouldn’t shake with guilt. They shouldn’t shake with shame. Yet they still do.
Someone like him is supposed to be strong. Strong enough to bare his emotions. To ignore it all. Continue through pain. Take care of those more important than they will ever be. They matter more than him. Others had made that plentifully clear by now. Always “Two Time’s partner” never “Azure”. Never his own. Always theirs. Always an object. The thing that comforts teacher Amarah’s student. The thing that grounds them and takes care of them when no one will.
Because they’re perfect. And he’s not. He will never be enough. In the sense where people turn to look, and ask “what’s wrong?” No one talks to him unless necessary.
And Azure continues to bare that weight. They’ll serve their purpose. It’s planned. Expected. If he doesn’t behave they’ll question him. Believe somethings wrong with him.
Worst of all, Two Time would ask. He doesn’t want that. He doesn’t need them to worry. They’re okay.
They’re okay because they’re supposed to be.
They’re okay because they need to be there for others.
He needs to be okay.
If he’s not he’s useless.
He doesn’t want to loose his purpose.
He doesn’t want to loose them.
Azure doesn’t want to loose his beloved.
They don’t know how to cope with this feeling. They hate feeling like this. Because it just mixes and reconstructs into anger.
Azure hates being angry. It’s exposing and terrifying. He feels suffocated and locked. And when they’re angry they hurt. He doesn’t want to hurt anything. He’s dangerous. They’ll be like what they said he was like before. Then they’ll lock him up and isolate him.
He doesn’t want that and he takes matters into his own hands.
So that’s why when they came home late they found him on the bed, face wet with tears that never should of been shed and scratches on his wrists. The scratches weren’t even deep enough to let out blood. They were the kind that sat there and stared.
Guilt made him feel sick. The kind of sick that makes you want to curl up and claw your skin off. He shouldn’t cry. They don’t deserve him.
They need someone better than him. Someone who follows the rules set in place.
Someone who needs to care for them, not him.
They shouldn’t even need to take care of him.
Two Time shouldn’t even worry about his stupid emotions.
They should just leave him to rot.
If that’s the expected response, why do they hug him? Why do they wrap their arms around him and whisper in his ear that it’ll be okay? Why do they kiss the tears from his eyes? Say that they’ll be here for them, just as they are for them?
This feels wrong.
So wrong.
It’s supposed to be the other way around.
He’s supposed to comfort them.
They’re supposed to comfort Two Time.
He’s supposed to be the one kissing the self inflicted wounds, gently.
He’s supposed to coax them to let more out. To let him into their shell.
But he doesn’t stop himself from sobbing more, breaths ragged and shaky from the weight. Horrid weight he was supposed to carry and not drop. And he feels selfish. So disgustingly selfish.
But apparently exhaustion catches up quicker, before he’s able to hide anything.
Azure’s tired.
Possibly in every way possible.
He wants to sleep.
They want to rest.
He wants to rot away and deteriorate.
They don’t deserve life.
Azure doesn’t deserve to be cradled by this pure being.
He doesn’t deserve their whispers of love.
He doesn’t deserve their kisses against his wet face.
They don’t deserve any of it anymore.
But his body gives in. Tired and aching. And they continue to cry until they can’t any longer.
Two Time stays.
Albeit, shifting him into a more comfortable position. Pressing against him because they know that it helps.
They’ve stopped talking by now, no whispers curl through the thick air any longer. Only occasional pecks against his cheek. Then the soft hushes came, gentle soothing. So calming, Azure can’t help but pull them closer, his tear stained face pressing against their neck.
Right now, he doesn’t have to focus on what’s expected of him anymore
He doesn’t have to think of being enough
Because if they’re enough for Two Time, even when broken, they’re alright for themselves.