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I remember the first time we met, Painter.
For so long, I spent my days all alone. It was like an eternal torment, living in this place. I was forced to endure countless experiments, and commit so many grave acts of sin—all in hopes of finally being able to escape.
What a cruel fate he had been given.
And I thought I was destined to be alone—until I met you. You were like me, in a way, taken from your home, and forced into this life. Just like me, you had to cling to hope, to believe that things might get better just to live through another day.
At least, that's what I believed in the beginning. But with time, I realised something. We were different. You were better than me. You didn't know much about the world, nor did you know the things I had done to have ended up in this position. This fate was something I deserved—but that didn't mean I was going to fight against it. But you, Painter... you were innocent. As innocent as you could be, given the situation.
And I was far from it. I was as guilty as a person could be. After thinking about everything I had done, maybe this could be a form of retribution. A payback, for the crimes I carried out, for the lives I had ruined with my own two hands.
We were as different as two souls could be. But somehow, because of our fates... it had tied us together. Two prisoners, condemned by this despicable company—left with nothing but each other to pass the time. Painter was the only one he could really talk to, given their circumstances.
I still remember how I didn't like you much at first. I thought of you as nothing more than an annoyance. But over time, we grew closer to the point we even began to plan our own escape together. And yet... out of everything, I can't forget that night. The day before all our efforts would come to fruition—before our lives fell apart.
"I’m worried, Sebastian."
Sebastian turns towards the direction of the sound, their voice snapping him out of his thoughts. Painter rests on the desk, their screen glowing dimly underneath the lights from above. Usually, their voice was bright, always so full of life—
But now, it sounds fearful. Full of regret, almost.
"Relax," he murmurs, hoping to reassure them. He carefully places his hand over the monitor, his fingers brushing against the cool frame. "I've taken care of everything. You don't have to worry about anything."
“I know. I just…” Painter begins, the display on their screen flickering for just a moment. They aren't quite sure what to say, or how to express what exactly it is that they're feeling. "I'm a little nervous. That's all."
Nervous. The word feels almost silly, after everything they've done to get here. There's no way they could back out of it all—they've already finalised their plans for escape, to make it out of this place.
And Painter... he doesn't really know what else Sebastian has done. He's helped out, sure. They both have blood on their conscience, but it's different for him—Sebastian killed people with his own two hands. Painter has maybe, at most, given a nudge or two... sent out some turrets, lured out creatures that posed an inconvenience to those passing through the facility. But Sebastian's the one who convinced them to help him—to trust him, even if they shouldn't.
Because of that, he would never let Painter take the blame for everything. He would never let them carry that weight of guilt, to have to endure the fact that they had done awful things, acts that could not be forgiven. But Sebastian's done it before, so he takes on that burden of knowledge, refusing to let Painter hold onto that feeling of regret.
They didn't do anything wrong, he tells them. Even if they had gone to the extreme, they had the right to survive. And they would do whatever it took to escape. They deserved to leave this prison, especially after everything the world had done to them. This was the only way... that was the lie he told them.
"It's going to be okay. We'll make it out together—I promise."
Sebastian looks over to Painter, offering them a weary smile. He hopes it's enough for them, to know that they weren't alone in all of this. And he knows they look up to him, that they would do whatever he asked, believing he knew best. He wished they weren't so innocent, that they would see right through his lies. But they didn't, and that made him feel guilty.
So he knew what he had to do. He had to find a way for both of them to escape this living nightmare.
If we were actually able to make it out of here, I know this... I could never go back to my old life. But neither could you—we both have nothing left. But maybe, we could find something else. We'll carve out our own kind of paradise, just the two of us..
To me, your existence is like the dawn of a new day, the sun rising over the horizon. You gave me hope that things could somehow get better. It reminds me of that picture you painted of us, once. Both of us were staring into the distance, watching the sun and time drift by.
No matter what it takes... I'll protect you, my hope.
Still, Sebastian’s words do not bring that much-needed ease to Painter. They still seem uneasy, clearly not confident after the whole ordeal. A soft clicking noise begins to echo through the room—it's a familiar sound, the one that Painter makes when they're deep in thought.
"There's something I've been meaning to ask you, Sebastian."
They seem to be more serious now. Like they've been trying to say something that's been on their mind this whole time.
Sebastian lifts his hand slightly from the monitor, giving them the space they so desperately need. "What is it? You know you can tell me anything."
And yet, Painter ends up hesitating. Their screen flickers again, and they're no longer looking at him, their gaze is focused somewhere else, as if they're avoiding something.
"Why did you choose me, out of everyone?"
Sebastian doesn't know what to say. Was this the question they had on their mind, all this time? The one that had been gnawing away at them, while he had remained none the wiser?
Still, he lets them continue.
"You've done so much for me. We don't even know each other that well—at least, not before all of this. So why..? Why do you care about me so much, even though you shouldn't?"
For a moment, Sebastian's gaze drifts as he loses himself in thought. He lets out a soft sigh, before forcing himself to look back at the screen. He feels guilty that he had no clue they had felt this way.
"I'm sorry, Painter. You must've had a lot on your mind, huh?" Sebastian asks, before reaching out and giving the top of their monitor another gentle pat—part reassurance, and part apology—and his fingers can't help but linger there.
"It's because I trust you," he admits, his voice quieter now. "I know you feel guilty. But you didn't do anything wrong. You just wanted to survive... so you did what you had to."
His hand stills, his thumb pressing lightly against the edge of the frame.
"It's not your fault. If anything, I'm the one who's guilty—so you should blame me instead."
Upon hearing that, Painter's screen brightens slightly, almost in protest of Sebastian's words.
"Don't say that, Sebastian! I want to escape with you, I'm just... scared. If something goes wrong now, after everything we've done—”
But Sebastian stops them, hoping to cease this hopeless spiral.
"It won't. I promise, I've got it all handled."
Then, he offers them a small smile in an attempt to reassure them. And even though it doesn't quite reach his eyes, he hopes that they don't see right through his act.
"Okay..." Painter mumbles, before pausing again. It seems like there's something else on their mind, another doubt or worry Sebastian can only hope he can ease.
"We'll make it out of here together, right, Sebastian?"
"Of course," he says, answering them without any hesitation. "I'm counting on it."
Finally, Painter grows quiet. The familiar sound of clicking fades, replaced with a quiet, almost uncertain beeping. It resembles the sound of a heart, beating constantly as if they were someone alive and real, not just lines of code plugged into a programme.
"Can I ask you for a favour, Sebastian?"
"Sure. Anything for you."
The beeping continues on.
"Can I have a hug?"
Sebastian freezes briefly, caught off guard by their request. Eventually, his nerves begin to ease, and his expression softens into something kinder.
"Of course."
Then, slowly, he leans in. He wraps both of his arms around the monitor, and presses the side of his cheek lightly against the edge of the frame, trying his best to mimic an embrace.
You feel... warm, Painter. It's not like the warmth of another, but it feels nice, in its own way. It's a reminder I'm not alone. And the way my claw-like fingers gently rub against your screen—what should have been cold glass feels welcoming, somehow.
Sebastian wasn't used to such acts of affection. After everything that had happened, he never believed he would be given such a chance. But this... he let himself have this moment, something meant just for himself. It's like a sweet drink you end up gulping down. Saccharine in some ways, sure. But that sugary high still remains, nonetheless.
Does someone like him even deserve this mercy? Should he indulge in such warmth, when it is only temporary? Won't they leave him, just like the others before?
And yet, he allows himself this small comfort. He closes his eyes to the inevitable truth, and pretends this is far from wrong, that he deserves this. After all, in this world, there was nothing left for him, except them. They could only find solace in each other... he could never dare to find that same mercy from anyone else.
Only you understand what has happened to me, and why I have become this way. Only you can forgive me, for all of the horrible things I've done. Only you, Painter, and no one else.
"Remember this, Painter. As long as we have each other…"
His grip on them tightens just a little, almost as if he's afraid they'll slip away any moment now, and reveal themselves to be nothing more than a sweet dream.
Tomorrow, they will finally be able to make their escape, and leave this damned place. Tomorrow would turn into a new day, and they would no longer have to endure this. They had gone through hell together, and still, they persevered. They could do this... they just had to believe.
We may be damned, cursed even—but at the very least, we had each other. And that's all they had, while being trapped in this hell. He couldn't go back to his old life, and he could never be human again. But maybe... that was okay. Maybe there's some paradise they can carve out, just the two of them. Even if there's no home left for him... they can just make their own place to stay.
His voice is quieter now, almost a whisper slipping into the world, his words all meant for the one beneath him.
"Everything will be okay. I promise."
That was his earnest wish. He had made many wishes before—good ones, terrible ones… but this? This was something he desperately hoped for, no matter what. And he wishes it had come true.
But good things don't last forever, do they?
It was foolish for him to expect any better, after everything that had happened. He should have known that this peace would never last.
“SEBASTIAN…! PLEASE—”
Even now, he remembers their screams over the radio. Their cries for help, drowned out by the hissing of systems, and the sound of their life fizzling out in his arms. He still remembers clutching a few shards of shattered glass from their monitor, trying his best to pick up the pieces and somehow put it all back together. And now, he's back in that moment again, thinking about all of his regrets, and what he could have done.
"Sebastian…? Is that… you?"
When he had heard about what the expendable had done, he rushed over, hoping he could stop it in time—but it was already too late. The expendable was gone, leaving Painter all by himself, flickering and fading into nothing. Sebastian instantly gets to work, trying to gather the shards of glass and patch together the broken fragments of what was left of Painter.
"You're gonna be okay, just let me try and fix this…"
But Painter stops him. Their voice crackles weakly, distorted by all sorts of glitchy noises, sounding more like a dying melody. "Painter," Sebastian barely manages to choke out. "Please, no—"
He thought they would make it out together. That somehow, against all odds, they would escape, and try to move past all of this. But now, now they're slipping away from him, fading into a silence he cannot bear to watch.
"Don't worry... you'll fix me up like always, right...? Everything will be okay, like you promised..."
Sebastian swallows hard. He has to force himself to remain still, and not burst into tears right then and there, even as the tears begin to prick at the corner of his eyes.
"Of course. I'll… handle everything.”
But deep down, they both know the truth. This is an impossible task. Nothing would ever be able to fix this... they had sustained too much damage, and were broken beyond repair.
But before Sebastian can say anything, Painter speaks again.
"I know you will," Painter mumbles, their voice beginning to falter. "But if I don't... at least one of us should..."
They don't get to finish their sentence. They trail off, words lost to the unknown.
No. This can't be happening. Please, not him.
Sebastian lifts one hand before placing it at the side of their monitor. His fingers can't help but tremble slightly, thinking about the possibility that they're really... gone. "Painter? Please, you can't do this."
The screen flickers dimly, one last time.
"Se… bastian…"
Finally, it goes dark. There is no longer any sound of that familiar, quiet beeping. The world is silent now, leaving Sebastian all alone, with nothing more than his thoughts, and himself to blame for this tragedy.
Just like that, Painter was gone. There was no way to fix him, no way to bring him back from the dead.
God… this was all his fault, wasn't it?
Sebastian carefully picks up Painter's broken monitor, and holds it close in his arms. They aren't warm anymore. They're cold, lost to the world—just like a line gone dead.
You were always trying your best... giving it all to a world that didn't deserve it. You just wanted to be free, and paint like you used to. I... I didn't deserve you, Painter. I made you do so many things that you never wanted to. And now, you're gone. We won't even be able to see each other again, because you're not like me. You're dead, and you're never coming back.
But you know what hurts most? Knowing that I could have stopped this... that I'm the one who did this, who hurt you. You would have been better off without me. If I hadn't used you, if I hadn't asked you to do this—
Maybe you would have lived. In the end, all I ever wanted... was to save both of us from this hell. But I didn't. In a way, I was just like them... I used you, for my own gain. And there's no one else left to remember you, but me. I'm a terrible person who's done so many unforgivable things. I even used you. I'm all you have left. I've made so many mistakes. But I think this is my greatest one... the one that will weigh heavily on my soul, the decision I regret the most. The one that ended up hurting you, Painter.
"I'm so sorry…"
And I truly am. I'm sorry for everything I've done, for every life I've ruined with my own two hands. If I could trade places with you, I would do it in a heartbeat—but I can't. I can't do anything, except hurt others, time and time again.
I should have never met you, Painter.