Work Text:
“Id… Idy? Idy?”
No response.
“Idy. Idia. IDIA!”
Still no response.
Ortho grabbed at his bother and attempted to pull him up into a sitting position. It failed, and he fell backwards, head cracking against the hard concrete floor. The movement caused the folds of his jacket to fall open, exposing the blood on the inside. There was blood on the inside.
Ortho panicked, little hands grabbing at his brother’s shirt in an attempt to find the problem, find the hole, find whatever had to be fixed so that his brother would stop lying there like that.
Eventually he pulled his hands away. He had to. Nothing he did worked. But that was when he noticed something.
Blood wasn’t supposed to be that color. Blood wasn’t supposed to be that color. There was black, there was black, why was there black? Why was there black mixed into Idy’s blood?
The question ran through his head like it was lost in a labyrinth, circling at top speed, searching for a way out. His mind was panicked, hazy, not to mention that of an eight year old. He had no idea what to do. It was Idy’s job to fix things like this, not his. Until he realized something. Idy could fix this after all! He’d prepared for this!
He’d been given a number to call if there was an emergency. He remembered that now. That was what he had to do. He remembered Idy saying it very clearly. If something ever happens, like I fall down the stairs or I stop breathing, you take my phone from my pocket and call this number. Tell them your name, and where we are, and what happened. They’ll come and help me. He dug around, unfastening several of Idy’s pockets, before finding the splintered piece of technology. It was broken beyond use, beyond repair. Just like Idy.
He had no other choice. He grabbed good brother by the arms and began to drag him. His brother was heavy, his brother’s body was heavy, something else inside him felt heavy too.
He didn’t make it very far before he had to let go. Idy’s hair was hot, too hot, burning his hands. It shouldn’t have been able to burn like real fire, but it kept on growing hotter and hotter. It ate away at Idy’s insides, his outsides, the bits that were supposed to be in one place but had ended up in the other. It raced through his veins, taking all that revolting black blood for itself. It seemed like everywhere the blot touched, the flames devoured. It seemed like he never had a choice in how things went. He released Idy’s hand and ran out of the control room, looking for an adult or for anyone, really. Anyone who could help.
Ortho couldn’t recall much else from the day of Idia’s death, but he vividly remembered everything that came after.
He hadn’t been able to take Idy’s body with him when he ran. It was too big, and he was too slow. He would’ve died if he hadn’t escaped when he did. He knew that, logically. But every time he thought of his brother, me couldn’t help thinking of how little of him was left when his parents went to find him. Barely enough to bury properly, or so they said. He thought they said. They barely talked to their children before the accident, but now? They hadn’t told him anything directly at all. He only got info from two places, texts and eavesdropping. Mostly the eavesdropping.
The funeral had been smaller than small. Few people had known Idia Shroud, and even fewer had wanted to take time out of their busy days to come to his funeral. Only his parents were there, and their appearance was brief. Ortho knew his mother and father wouldn’t remember, so he quietly slipped a coin under Idy’s tongue. He didn’t believe in the afterlife, but he did it just in case. The least he could do was let his brother cross over in peace.
When it was clear that no one would care if he was gone, Ortho went back to his room to sleep. He didn’t know what else to do. But as he laid there in the dark, the thoughts slowly began to creep in. Was this how Idia had felt all the time? Worrying about the future and how he was perceived? He knew that his brother was troubled to some extent, he’d just never fully realized how it felt until now. His brother was dead. He was dead and he wasn’t coming back. He couldn’t come back. Every thought he’d ever had, every memory he’d ever made, they were all forgotten. No one would ever learn the things Idia had kept to himself. Every idea he hadn’t written down, every innovation he’d been too nervous to share. All the joy he’d felt, all the pain he’d experienced. They were all lost forever. And once Ortho was gone, no one would ever know Idia’s name. He had no friends, save for his brother. Once he was gone, nobody would know he’d existed at all. They couldn’t think if they were dead. Nobody would miss him and nobody would care because they’d both be dead. No matter how many times people had tried to convince him otherwise, no matter how many stories of the underworld he read, he couldn’t help his personal beliefs. Especially his belief that after death, there was nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing.
Eventually the tears crept in too. Ortho was usually rather happy, even if he tripped and scraped his knee, he’d get up with a laugh and keep running. This, though? A broken arm couldn’t even begin to compare to the pain he felt. It would be like comparing a raindrop to the ocean. Soon Ortho’s thoughts and tears were snowballing. More thinking brought more crying, which only brought more thinking. On and on and on in an endless cycle.
It wasn’t long before he could no longer bear to cry alone. He tiptoed out of his room, careful to close the door silently, and crept into Idy’s room. There was so much stuff piled on top of his bed, Ortho didn’t even bother trying to remove it all. Instead he just crawled in amongst the tech, clothes, and discarded food wrappers. On a shelf above the bed, Idia’s two special edition plushies sat in pristine condition. They’d been from a special PreMo collab, and he’d immediately put them out of reach in display cases to protect them from dust and damage. But Idy wouldn’t care if Ortho took them down for comfort. Because Idy was dead. Idy couldn’t care about his stuff if he was dead. Ortho used a lower shelf as a step, slightly damaging the wall, and was able to just barely knock the boxes down using the tips of his fingers. Once he’d gotten safely back down, he pried the cases open, threw them on the floor, and cuddled up with the purple and blue monster stuffies. He didn’t know how long he laid awake, salty dry eyes stinging his face, but he eventually drifted off into sleep.
By the time he woke up, it was already 10:00. Usually Ortho was up at 4:30, too excited for what the day would hold to sleep. There was always so much to do: tv shows to watch, video games to play, and schoolwork to finish. He was up early, Idy was up late, and they met in the hours in between. But today there was none of that. He couldn’t share his favorite shows with his brother, couldn’t play anything other than single player games, and he had nobody to ask questions to when he was stuck. By no means did his life revolve around Idia, but in this moment all he could think about was missing his other half. Idia had been there since he was born, walking two steps ahead with a hand reached back to guide him. Despite the fact that it was commonplace for Idy to hide in his room for days at a time, Ortho felt his absence more deeply this time. He had been behind the door, he was still there now, there was no way to pretend that Idia was just hiding away again.
In the corner of the room, something caught Ortho’s eye. Idia’s laptop sat propped open next to his PC gaming set up in the corner. Ortho knew the password, so maybe, just maybe, there was some other piece of his brother he could find. A diary entry, a playlist, a half finished project, anything. He just wanted to learn something new from Idy one last time. He wanted his brother to have one more impact, to see his work and thoughts again even though he was dead. Even though he’d sometimes despised how the projects dragged Idy away from him when he was alive, now that he was dead, Idy’s work was their only connection. He dragged himself out of his pile and walked over to the desk, brushing away clutter as his hands found the keyboard.
1-0-0-%-P-r-e-M-o-F-a-n-!
It dinged, and let him in. He hadn’t seen the computer in a while. The folders were just as much of a mess as the rest of Idy’s life was. Despite the easy clean up option that only took two clicks, it was a huge and unreadable mess. After a brief moment of organizing, Ortho could finally make out the wallpaper. It was a picture of a scene from Star Rogue. The starry backdrop was comforting for a moment, but just as quickly sent a sharp feeling through Ortho’s chest. They’d spent so many nights playing that game together, and they’d never be able to do it again. (Focus, focus. No time to cry if you focus.) He scanned over the new file layout, looking for anything of interest. Installers? No. Anime Wallpapers? No. Memes? Maybe later. Tungsten project? No. Nothing here was helpful, nothing would ever bring Idy back in the way he wanted, this was useless and hoping hurt like dull knives, there was no point in this, there was no point in anything- wait. What was that? Down at the bottom of the screen, Ortho spotted a file titled “Independent Research Thingy”.
Odd, Ortho thought. I don’t remember him saying anything about this. Tentatively, he clicked on the folder and opened it up.
The folder contained three files. One was titled “ramblings lmao”, the second was titled “code ig”, and the third was titled “phys blueprint”. Ortho didn’t know what “LMAO” meant, but rambling was what Idy called it when he talked a lot, so that seemed the most promising.
Double clicking the file opened up a PDF. Idy’s project notes lit up the screen, and Ortho’s hungry eyes devoured every sentence. Every sentence was typed normally, but he could still hear Idy’s voice reading it in his head, stutter and all.
So teach said to write something here abt my project in case I 4get what I’m doing or smth, which okay boomer, maybe your old ass brain forgets stuff, but me? I’m at peak functionality. Anyway, me and Ortho saw a new movie recently that was just *chef’s kiss* absolute cinema, and I wanted to see if I could actually make something similar to what we saw in the film. And since it was an adventure film, we’re doing an adventure like that l8r this month too. I’ve just gotta do some more prep for that, I’m getting off topic tho-
Before he realized it, tears had started streaming down his face. He clicked the little red x. There were still quite a lot of pages, but Ortho couldn’t handle reading anymore. But he had to keep searching. Even worse would’ve been sitting alone with his grief. Busy hands meant a busy mind, and a busy mind meant a busy heart. A busy heart had no room for holes. He double clicked the second file, and this one opened itself in a specially made IDE. After a quick glance, Ortho realized this wasn’t anything he could understand. It was a coding language of Idia’s own invention. He almost lost sight of whatever feeling it was that imitated hope, but before he could he shut the lid of his heart tight. He couldn’t give up yet. Idy may have been smart, but Ortho was smart too. He could figure out what his brother had been trying to do. There. A note.
//use spells 4 code?
So he was experimenting with tecnomancy. That was a start. He kept skimming the code. Floats, variables, functions, and loops swirled around in front of his eyes. What exactly was his brother trying to do?
He clicked open the third file, and his hands dropped to his side as he stared in shock. The blueprint was of an early design for a humanoid robot. It was hidden under layers of red annotations (red, blood, death, Idy, don’t think, don’t think, don’t think) and the sketches needed a heavy dose of development before they could even begin to function, but they were there. That meant the code was probably some base code for running the robot.
He could do this. He could modify the design and code, all he needed to do was figure out what it meant. If he could figure this out, he could finish what his brother had started. He could save a piece of his brother’s work from being forgotten. (And it gave him something to do besides grieve).
He pulled out some paper and a pencil and got to it.
One Week
Ortho was stuck. The code was harder to decipher than he’d originally thought, but at least it gave him something to do. He spent all his time working, and by the time he went to sleep he was too exhausted to think.
One Month
Ortho had gotten nowhere. His brother truly was a genius. He had no idea how he was going to figure this out. He’d looked up online tutorials, but they made no sense.
Six Months
Slowly, ever so slowly, the code began to make sense. He began to see how different pieces on a robot could connect. Most of it was still gibberish, but it was a start.
One Year
Ortho needed people. That was just a fact of his existance. He was an extrovert, he thrived in the company of others. Without them he was tired, demotivated, and overall depressed. But there was no one to talk to. He’d managed to clean up his brother’s room, and beyond getting food and water he barely had a reason to leave. There wasn’t really an “outside” where he was, meaning nobody could care if he stayed “inside” all day. Not that anyone came to look for him or cared what he did. When his parents or other people did show up, he was a good and obedient heir that didn’t give them any cause for worry. That just led them to leave him alone even longer. He couldn’t keep going on like this forever. He desperately needed somebody’s company (he needed his brother’s company).
One Year and One Week
That’s it. His brother’s company. He could tweak the code and design, he could make a robot of his brother. Everything he’d lost could still be saved. Like a computer that had shut down, his brother’s body had stopped working. That’s what death was. But his soul (if such a thing even existed) couldn’t have disappeared. All he had to do was find a backup of his brother’s soul and upload that software to a new device. But where to find it? It’s not like souls could get saved on flash drives.
One Year and One Month
Ortho was going grave robbing. Whatever he needed, it could be found on Idy’s body. Ortho had decided his best bet would be to take Idy’s hair. If that’s where their curse laid, that’s where Idy’s soul had the best chance of getting trapped. But he had to get it before the flame went out, if it was even still going at all.
He approached the grave, a lonely headstone in the ground. Some grass had grown since he last visited. People would know that someone had dug his brother up. But no one would expect it was him, and he wasn’t completely sure anyone would care. He wasn’t sure that he’d care even if he did get caught.
The shovel he found wasn’t the best for digging that deep, but it would have to do. He tried as hard as he could to take the grass off in an even layer, though it did end up rather clumped and lumpy. Then it was time for the dirt. Ortho was sweaty, the dirt was heavy, and his arms were so sore it felt like they might fall off. The ground was soft, damp, and easy to shovel, but there was just so much of it.
When he finally got down to the coffin, he hesitated. He hadn’t thought about how he’d get the body out. The hole was deep, too deep to pull his brother out and the coffin was definitely too heavy to be lifted. But his arms had always been stronger than Idy’s, even with the age gap. He decided his best bet was to climb down into the hole, get the hair, and climb out.
He dropped down in, legs making a hollow thud against the wood. The lid was almost as heavy as he was, but he managed to pry it up and lean it against the walls. When he looked back down, there was his brother.
No. No. No. NO. That couldn’t be Idia. That… that thing was rotten and decaying and full of holes. Idy may not have always felt it, but he was alive. He was alive. Was. But now he was d- no. Ortho couldn’t handle thinking like that. This was his brother’s hardware, not his software. He was more than his body. He had to remember that. He just had to keep going.
Idy’s hair was still burning. He’d been hit with so much blot that it had been enough to fuel the flames up until now, even a year later. The very thing that had killed him was what gave Ortho hope. He could do this. At least it didn’t burn him anymore. Carefully, ever so carefully, he lifted up his brother’s corpse onto his lap. Taking out his shears, he cut off nearly all of Idia’s hair and placed it in a small glass jar. The flames needed no oxygen to burn, so he sealed the lid tightly, laid his brother back in the coffin, and said goodbye to Idy one last time before climbing out and covering the closed lid with soil. Belatedly, he remembered the coin under Idy’s tongue, but he decided it didn’t matter how deep in the underworld he was (if it even existed at all). Ortho could still pull Idy out.
Two Years
Ortho was making progress. He had figured out what Idy was doing, now he just had to adapt it. Books were laid out on every surface, windows open on every screen. The pieces of his brother’s future body were sitting organized on a table, sleek white, blue, tan, and clear bits of plastic amongst tangles of wire and a fragmented metal frame. His brother’s soul sat in a jar on a shelf above Ortho’s main workspace, casting a comforting blue glow over the room. He was so close. So, so close.
Four Years
It all reminded Ortho of a game he used to play with Idy, back when he was still here. Idy would take scrap pieces from whatever project he was working on, tie wires into his hair, and don a cardboard box suit. This was how they made the Idy-bot costume, and Idia would run around the halls wearing it, pretending he was Ortho’s own personal robot butler. And every time he “booted up” he’d say…
“Beep boop. I am Idy-bot! What can I do for you today, Ortho?”
He was back. Finally, after everything, after four years of work, he was back.
“Idy? Idia?”
“Yes, Ortho?”
“Is… is it you?”
“It’s me.”
Something was wrong. The way he spoke, his voice, something about him was off. But Ortho didn’t care. How could he care about something as small as that, when his brother was finally back. He wrapped his brother up in a tight hug, ignoring the fact that the only warmth his brother had came from hyperactive processors.
“Woah, bro’s the hug monster! Wassup with that? You haven’t hugged me this tightly in ages!”
There it was. It must’ve just taken the language processors a second to catch up to the rest of him.
“Idy?” Ortho prompted.
“Ye?”
Four years ago he would’ve told Idia to cut it out with the internet speak. Today it was the only thing he wanted to hear.
“Never mind. I’m just happy you’re here.”
For a while Idy-bot Idia was perfect. It was like he was really back from the dead! Ortho couldn’t believe it. He’d brought his brother back as a robot! But slowly, Ortho started looking older than Idia. He was getting taller too. That wasn’t right. Idy was older, he should look the part. So Ortho got started on a new body.
It went on like this for years, every time Ortho grew a noticeable amount, Idy got a new body. The old ones were put in Ortho’s old room, where he didn’t have to look at them. He hadn’t been back in his room since Idy’s original body was destroyed, save for dumping the discarded vessels. Like the ship of Theseus paradox, the question how much of Idy’s body could be replaced before he stopped being himself tugged at the back of his mind. It only stopped when he finally decided that as long as the captain was the same, the ship didn’t matter. It would still sail the same route. None of Ortho’s cells were the same ones he had when he was born, this was no different. Everything was fine. Idia was still Ortho’s brother, Idia was still alive, Idia was still himself.
Eventually, the black carriage came for Ortho, finalizing his enrollment in Night Raven College. It took a lot of coercing, but he was allowed to bring Idia with him. People occasionally gave them strange stares in the hallways, but Ortho’s friendly nature was enough to win over even the most skeptical of outsiders. After all, few people could resist the only extroverted member of Ignihyde and his enthusiastic approach to helping the student body with their tech problems? Who really cared that the guy was a little odd, even though he seemed entirely dependent on a humanoid that followed him around all the time and he talked to it like it was the only person in the world who mattered, he was a lot more normal than his dorm mates (they all talked to their computers and gaming consoles the same way). Of course, it also didn’t hurt that Ortho kept a small high powered laser canon in his bag at all times. The students of NRC quickly learned that so long as you didn’t question Ortho Shroud, he was the nicest person on the planet, and they were all too happy to go along with it.
When he wasn’t attending classes with Ortho, helping him study and whatnot, Idia spent most of his time in their shared dorm room playing online games. It was always funny hearing other players call each other bots in chat, since they never managed to figure out who the real one was. Ortho tried desperately to get Idy to go out and make friends, but for some strange reason, no one was all that excited to talk to him. Which was fine, since Idy preferred to stay inside anyways, but Ortho couldn’t help wanting his brother to have what he felt was the proper ‘high school experience’. Going out, spending time with people, that sort of thing. He didn’t have to go see spelldrive games or go to parties, he just had to go somewhere. Unfortunately for Ortho, the only other person his brother’s age was also thoroughly uninterested in meeting people. Go figure. Thankfully, they had each other, and that’s all they needed.
The year was a pretty weird one, with the monster and inter dimensional student crashing orientation, and then the people overblotting left, right, and center. Ortho’s tried to be careful to stay out of the way of the overblotted students, not out of any particular hatred towards them, rather simply because he didn’t want Idy getting caught up in anything. That was his one hope in life, that Idy could live free from the turmoil he’d already experienced far too much of.
Nine Years
IIt was a bitter day in February when it came time for the ninth anniversary of the day a game of heroes and explorers went wrong. The day Idia had acted as Ortho’s hero, and the day that Ortho had been left to explore the universe alone. All of a sudden, space is too real. Ortho can feel his muscles, his skin, his weight, his presence in the world. He can feel time flowing around him, each second ticking away. He is alive, he exists, and it is a terrible thing. Because to live means you must die, just like Idy. Idy, who died so young. He had so much life left to live. So many experiences left to feel.
The data had been corrupted. This wasn’t Idia.
The too hot hair. The too hard body. The too bright eyes. Everything about the stranger standing in front of him was too much.
Inky black blot began to ooze from the magestone in Ortho’s pen. Just the sight of it was enough to evoke a shriek from him as he threw it across the room, causing a large crack to form in the gemstone as it hit the wall. Idia the stranger yelled something at him that he didn’t register as memories rushed unbidden into his mind.
Clothes, stained black.
Blood, stained black.
Intestines, stained black.
Idy’s body, censored out by his own dyed insides.
The crack in the gem only caused the blot to leak out faster.
Ortho dropped to his knees.
The blot pooled around him, stretching across the room like a late afternoon shadow.
Soon everything Ortho knew was drowned out by a dark sea of utter hopelessness.
Four Hours
“What can I do for you, Ortho? How can I help?”
Ortho blinked his eyes open slowly.
“Id- Idy? Idia?”
Idy the humanoid let out a small sigh before responding. As to wether it was relief or sadness, Ortho couldn’t tell.
“Ye?”
“Is it really you?”
The humanoid thought for a moment.
“No.”
A little sob escaped Otho’s throat.
“Is there any- anything at all I can do? Anything I can do to get him back? Plea- please, it wasn’t- it wasn’t his fault!”
The humanoid gave him a hug. Ortho was full on bawling now.
“I kill- I killed him! I killed my brother!”
The humanoid tried to soothe him, to no avail.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“But it was still my actions,” Ortho screamed, “my actions got him killed! He’s dead because of me!”
“He loved the life that he got to live because you were in it.”
By this point Ortho’s eyes were puffed and red, the same went for his cheeks. Tears stained his face as he buried it in his blanket.
“His life was so short.”
The humanoid nodded.
“It was, but you made him see it as something worth living. Even on the days he was stressed, the days when he told you to stop staring over his shoulder as he played KHIII, or the days he got mad at you for blowing up his Minecraft base, he still loved you. You gave him the best ten years he could’ve possibly had, and he’s grateful for it.”
Ortho sniffed.
“Is?”
The humanoid nodded.
“Is. You’re the reason he made it safely across the Styx, letting him get to Elysium.”
“I don’t believe you.”
The humanoid hugged him tighter.
“You don’t have to. I’m just comforting the only way I know how.”
Eventually Ortho looked up from his blankets at the humanoid.
“We should probably get you your own name.”
“With time, with time. Idia would say to think long and hard about my gamertag.”
That brought out the tiniest of laughs from Ortho.
“Idy-bot? Can I ask one more question?”
He hummed affirmatively.
“Would you mind being my brother anyways?”
“Of course not.”