Chapter Text
Back pressed against the wall, it anchors him. It reminds him he is no longer in the Hole; the white stretch of pristine wall is nothing like the grimy stone.
He hugs his knees, shuffling himself closer into the corner. It's the same motion he'd grown accustomed to, in the time he'd spent there— pressing himself against the wall and hoping for something.
Ze wasn't pathetic; he refused to seek attention— his father had drilled that into him countless times before sending him off to bootcamp. He'll stay here silently, huddling into his own warmth. Ze curls himself against the wall further.
Slanted moonlight filters in through the window, casting itself along his angled ceiling. It turns the black shadows gray, dim light creeping in. His bedroom is on highest floor, hence the sloped ceiling aligned with the roof.
His anger bleeds into sizzling frustration. He fidgets with the fabric of his gray sweatshirt, rolling it around in his fingers as it bunches. It hangs off of him lazily, as with his blue track pants.
Awkward tears begin to loll despite his strength. He wipes them, hands clammy with sweat. He traps them beneath his fingertips, trying to calm himself.
Ze can't stay like this forever.
He pulls himself away from the wall, eyes bleary, the springs of his mattress sounding.
Lining a wall, are mounted arrays of firearms. He's shameless— there's no hiding them. It's made of a smooth, steel corrugated panel, fixed with hooks and supports to hold them aloft. Rifles, revolvers... more.
Regect had commented on his hobby more than once, ("What, are you a veteran?") and Moe seemed somewhat disgruntled at the sight. Ze didn't care much— it was for him afterall, not anybody else. Maybe he felt some vague twinge of guilt, seeing Moe's nervous expression as she stepped inside, but that was it. He swallowed anything urging him to stop.
He reaches for a pistol, admiring the sleek gray barrel. The grip is without a scratch; it's practically brand new. He holds it, porcelain fingers locking into place. The trigger guard is active; he can't shoot. Not yet.
Of course, Ze couldn't go ahead and shoot around in the backyard. He was rude, sure— but not enough of a true asshole to wake anybody with gunshots. He'd wander off into the forest and pierce a couple of trees. It was a soothing mechanism he'd learned a while back. Ze can't remember the nights where he wastes bullets and the ones he doesn't; it's become frequent ever since his experience in the Hole.
He wouldn't admit it, sure, but he felt like something was off about him. Regect and Moe could tell; Ze didn't pipe up anything or start a discussion however. He shot down any attempts they made.
The nights in which he decided to sneak out, he'd slinked out of the house easily.
Armed, Ze sneaks out of his bedroom. He creeps down the stairs, soles padded with socks. He twinges at a creak of the floorboards, locking into focus so as to not make another sound. Again, not enough of an asshole to really wake anybody. After clambering down the staircase, he makes his way over to the back sliding-door. Rectangles of moonlight show through the glass panelling.
Promptly, he's met with Regect guarding the exit. His arms are crossed, like some sort of inquisitive parent regarding a teenager on their way to sneaking out. If he had a semblance of a face, his eyebrow would be raised.
Despite him being devoid of eyes, Ze can feel a look skimming over the pistol locked in his hand.
He's a jet-black barrier, standing in Ze's way.
"Ze," he states firmly. "I saw you the last time."
Ze just eyes him, apting himself to brush past him in a moment. Who is he to ask questions or dictate his safety? It felt plainly stupid and infantile.
Exasperatedly, he orders, "Just tell me what's going on; you're not slick."
"I'm going out." He gives him a plain response, giving into his game for a moment.
"Where?"
"I'm an adult. I can go outside if I want to," he snaps back. "I just need a break."
Something wavers in Regect's body language. His shoulders droop slightly, before locking back into being tense and frustrated. "You've been acting fucking weird— I'm tired of it! Moe is tired of it, and I know you're fed up with yourself too," Regect blurts out. He continues, "What's the gun for? It's the middle of the goddamm night!"
Ze pauses, fingers curling around his pistol. A searing shame rises like a slap across his face— he's embarrassed. Of course it had to happen eventually; of course they deserved answers to Ze's behaviour— but it was humiliating. He glares at Regect, feigning anger and not shame.
"Can you just..." his eyes dart over Regect, searching for his expression in his body, "leave me alone?" His voice quivers, the long lines of argumentative interjections he'd rehearsed falling short.
Regect steps forwards awkwardly. "Hey man, I didn't mean to—"
Ze brushes past him, gripping the door handle and forcing it open.
"—force you..."
He shoves himself outside, ignoring the indignance stemming from Regect. His socks don't clack against the wooden porch— he's forgotten his shoes. This realization only causes his embarrassment and shame to flare up further. Flames lick across his cheeks in a horrible flush.
Even worse, Regect peels open the door and meets him. Light shines from the inside, giving Regect's form a backdrop.
"You're such an asshole!" he shouts. "I can't believe you. Moe is upset; I'm upset. You won't talk to us..."
Ze tunes him out at this point. He can't focus.
Regect pushes himself towards Ze. The moonlight casts itself onto the backyard porch, dim. Ze curls his body into the edge of the porch fence; he digs crescent moons into his palm.
Regect is a stretch of ink, blotting out his vision. He's taller, freakishly so. It makes enough sense— he's an entity after all— but in a moment like this, Ze feels the need to recoil at the sight.
The tension feels tangible as he presses himself towards Ze. Words slur off of Regect's tongue, him drawing out strings of curses and demands and confusion.
It was just like those nights with the fake. The proximity.
Ze didn't mean to make him explode. Not like this. He remains oddly quiet, taking in Regect. Thinking, trying to register everything.
Regect lurches forwards, pulling Ze's arm towards him. "Are you even listening to me?" That easily shoves him back into reality.
He grips either arm. The contact burns like acid; it sends ripples of all-consuming warmth, searing on his skin. His breath hitches painfully in his throat. Were all entities this warm? Warmer than people?
"I get it." Ze shakes his head vigourously. "It's my fault, okay?" The admission of guilt twists in his gut like bile.
Regect sighs. Something else bleeds into his angry tone. "I don't want to worry about you. Don't make me." His tone is firm, like a demand, but with an underlying level of concern.
Regect's knobbly talons are still wrapped around Ze's arms, and Ze pulls away.
"Be honest with me."
"Okay."
Ze leans against the wooden fence. "I guess..." Ze trails off, running a hand through his black hair. "I guess I wanted to go outside and think?"
It was a start.
Finally, Regect doesn't push any further. "Whatever you say man. Just..." he pauses for a moment before continuing, "just be straight up with me! That's all I want."
"Thanks, Regect."
Regect joins him, standing by his side. "We're gonna go out tomorrow. And— and you better be ready!" He makes a grand scene with his talons, waving them around. "Moe has it all planned out; we're going to the beach. You'll feel better man."
The change in topic is rather jarring. He swallows a rejection to the idea. "Alright," he says, a ghost of a smile hovering over his face.
So easily, things shift back into their normal. Their spat becomes more and more forgotten, Regect continuing to ramble. He makes the idea of a beach visit appear very grand— Ze doesn't quite buy it. He can imagine a nasty sunburn sprouting along his skin already; Ze can envision Regect's antics in the water. But, also, maybe it could be fun, having the water lap at his ankles and baking in the sun.
His pistol is more free in his hand; it becomes a background rather than a jarring precense in his grip.
Regect nudges Ze's side with his elbow. "Tired?"
His body betrays him with a cued yawn.
"Yeah."
The two exchange goodnights before heading indoors.