Archive of Our Own

Success.

This word, this mere concept was one of the few things which Sword could understand entirely and thoroughly.

A lot of things in life were difficult to put in words, to explain, to grasp the concept of it; How could he explain the fear he felt for his brother Medkit; How the unconditional love he was feeling for his fiancè Rocket; He couldn’t. These concepts, the feelings, he felt strongly deep inside his heart but he could hardly put them in words, his vocabulary which was, or so he was hoping, rather well put together thanks to his fatherfigure Venomshank teaching him all kinds of extravagant words which haven’t been used since the medieval times in the Inpherno since he was a mere child..

He felt these things so heavily, so truly and deep in his heart but they were also confusing to him so often.

The concept, the feeling of success however, was clear as it was just possible to him, it was something that had he had been thought since he could wield his own Gear, since he was strong enough to lift the large and heavy ancient weapon of the ground just a bit, the arms of the tiny kid he was trembling and shaking as he had lifted it but the ground with a sharp sound coming from it’s shining and refective sliver blade.

Back then just like now, he was able to see his own reflection in that exact blade.

Back then, the unsure and a bit anxious eyes of the vulnerable child, unaware of what the future held for his own self and for his father , scared of messing up but determined to fulfill the wish of his father to learn how to become to best sword-phighter the Inpherno had ever laid eyes on, had ever heard about , had stared back at him.

By now, it was different.

Whenever he would now see his reflection in the blade of his Sword during a Phight or when he trained in the backyard of his “home”, two bright yellow eyes would look back at him, a deep and messed up scar underneath one of the eyes as well as deep dark shadows , the look in his eyes not unsure or anxious, instead stern and cold.

While the color of the pupils had gotten deeper and more intense as he had turned into an adult being, the light in his pupils had gotten weak, the eyes almost dull as he almost flawlessly swung his blade around, scoring more points than the most others did during the entire day, in one single round.

Success was something he truly understood, it had been thrilled into his mind; It was a thing which he had to achieve. No matter what.

It was his only opportunity to show everyone that he was just as much of a deity as his cousins.
It was his only opportunity to make them shut up about him being much too short, much too weak and much too vulnerable to be a deity.
It was his only opportunity to show them what he was able to do.
It was his only opportunity to prove himself and his own talent.

It was his only opportunity to get out of the shadow of his cousins.

It was his only opportunity to show them that he wasn’t as vulnerable, anxious and naive as they thought. Or at least it was his only chance to gloss over these aspects of his character, since they were very much in the right about it.

He was vulnerable, anxious, naive, scared, emotional, weak; he knew that much. He was so painfully aware of it. And yet this made him even more aware of the fact that he could only gloss over these un-deity-like aspects of him with this one thing: Success.

Success was a concept which was branded into his mind.

Not only was it the only thing which could prove his own worth to the eyes of the deities, never once leaving off him, watching his every step, his every failure -

It was also the only thing with which he could prove his father’s worth to them.

If he was successful, better than all of them together, he could prove that his father was a good teacher, a great and skilled deity.

Not the unworthy being they thought that they had successfully abandoned.

Every single part of him which he hated, which he couldn’t bear to look at, he could easily hide it with this one thing.

The successful and intimidating powerful demi-deity going on a rampage on the battlefield, being a pure force of unleashed sheer power , in the shining and heavy armor, weighting him down, his face hidden behind the helmet, making him seem even more intimidating, hiding his eyes which would so often give away his vulnerability and his own true feelings, the large red feathers on it impressively flowing behind him as he moved and spun around and his own large white and brown feathery wings opened up entirely in an attempt to make himself seem even taller and even further intimidating, the heavy, sharp and shiny ancient gear lying in his thight grasp of the long claws of him; all of that was one single carefully constructed facade which he had made up for himself over the years all on his own.

This Sword was dangerous, was intimidating, fought as if there was not another morning to come, as if every Phight was his last battle, as if he was fighting for his life-

This Sword was stern, focused on success , on winning , on nothing else but scoring so high that not even his cousin of a Warden could win.

This Sword was nothing like the emotional, vulnerable, naive, anxious, easily scared, easily worried, caring, loving and jazz loving Sword who was a bit nerdy about music and who loved dressing in the style and clothes of the 80s.
And this was wanted. This was good.

This Sword was who everyone should believe was the one and only true Sword.

Everyone besides Rocket and Medkit.

Everytime he didn’t win, everytime he failed, he didn’t succeed at something, it felt as if he himself just lost a big chunk of what he was worth.

It felt as if his carefully constructed facade was breaking then, his true self seeping out of the cracks in it, all the eyes staring on him watching his every move being able to see behind it.

He could already feel their disappointed and judging gaze on his skin.

Without winning, he was a failure.

He was born feeling emotions too deep, too much, he was too loving, too caring, he wept too easily and he was anxious and worried too easily, he was scared too easily.

No deity was like this.

And now he had to make up for it by creating this facade and turning into this successful Sword even if it was breaking him apart.

Even if he was breaking apart.

Even if he tore himself apart.

All for success.

At the end of the day it felt like it was all worth it.

If he returned home, showing Venomshank the paycheck of the BUX he had scored, the amount of kills and amount of MVP times he had scored , his father figure was proud, patting him on his head or shoulder, his voice behind the mask sounding as if he smiled widely.

If he saw Banhammer’s irritated and angered gaze on him as he scored MVP again, it felt as if he managed to do something great.

If he heard the loud voices of Dom and Valk over the speakers, loudly cheering and screaming out in perplexity that he scored MVP for the tenth time in a row with up to 11 kills and not a single death himself, he felt his chest tighten in pride.

It wasn’t a good pride, it was more of a sick and twisted one, a relief that he proved again that he was good enough.

Just that his view of good was much different from what a casual Phighter would view as good.

In their eyes, his scores were unbelievable, he knew it too.

It made the entire thing feel even better.

He was proving them all, what he could do and that he was just as good as his cousins, as his family, that his father was good enough to be a part of the deity family of the Swords.

For this he was willing to break himself, it was so worth it.

-

Rocket didn’t know when it had gotten this bad once again.

He knew about everything.

He knew about Sword’s family , about what pressure they subjected him to.

He knew about Sword’s issues.
He knew about every single one.

He couldn’t recall how often they had gotten into heated arguments because of his overworking to a point where it got dangerous due to the self-esteem issues, due to him desperately trying to prove himself to his family.

He also couldn’t recall how often he had already coaxed Sword into finally stopping to train for the day, carefully taking the Gear out of his sore hands before taking one of these in his own , gently leading him off the training place and to his own apartment where he would take care of the other, helping him out of the armor while he talked,or at least tried to talk, into him that he had been doing more than enough for today , before sitting the other down in the bathtub, washing him gently off the sweat and dirt, drying him off afterwards and handing him a soft and warm pyjama , ,leading him his own bed , watching him how he immediately melted into the mattress and the blue pillows, the cool bedsheets feeling good against his hurting and aching body , watching him how he fell asleep in a mere second the moment his head fell against the pillow. Everything had happened in an uncomfortable near silence, mostly only Rocket talking, always repeating the same things just worded differently over and over again like a mantra, hoping that one time Sword would finally accept them.

“You did enough. You are enough. “

Sword had always been so eerily empty and worn out when this had happened again, letting his boyfriend just do whatever with him, not resisting when he would lead him to the bathroom and asking him if he was allowed to help him take off his armor.

Rocket hated every single moment of it.

He hated seeing Sword like this.
It wasn’t the Sword he met, the one he fell for, the one he loved so badly that it drove him insane sometimes, the one he would both live and die for, the one he was now marrying in the close future, the golden rings with gems in the color of the other in it on their horns proving it to everyone.

This Sword was a product of the Sword family.

He hated them so much. If he could, he would walk right into The Heights and blow them all up together with their fancy realm and Phighting arena.

He would feel no regret, they had done enough hurt.

If Sword did anything to himself, it was always only due to their pressure on him.

They deserved to suffer for making his love hurt this badly.

He wanted to blow everything up. He wanted to save his love. Yet then again, he knew that he needed to save Sword from Sword himself.

He didn’t know how to do that.

All the times he could recall the nights in which he held Sword as the taller one was crying in his arms as Rocket desperately tried to get him to breathe evenly again made him feel sick every time he thought about them, made his burning hate towards the other deities even worse as well as fueled into his urge to blow them all up even if he knew that it was impossible for him alone to do, only a mere Inphernal himself. These were the only times where the facade couldn’t take it anymore, breaking, crumbling down loudly and messily.

Rocket was glad that he could be there to catch Sword from the fall and to collect all of the pieces the crumbled facade left behind all over again, each and every time it happened.

It was the least he could do.

However, usually Rocket was able to notice when it got bad again, when Sword put more pressure on himself than usual, often due to a previous event which he considered to be a failure caused by himself or when someone said something which send him into a spiral again, which then would have consequences in from of him pushing himself past every just possible limit for days or weeks until his body couldn’t handle it anymore, crashing in exhaustion.

This time though, he hadn’t noticed it, maybe because he had been too busy helping his father in the shop, the upcoming event needing them to stock up almost everything plus they had to get the new themed event outfits which some Phighters had ordered from them in time. Maybe he also didn’t miss anything, maybe it had really just started in the Phights of this one day. Maybe something had set him off today which Rocket hadn’t noticed, or maybe which he hadn’t even considered to be something which could make his partner spiral that much.

Either way, Sword was acting once again as if every single Phight was a fight for his own life.

The first few times he had scored MVP with drastically high scores, Rocket hadn’t paid any thought going any deeper than feeling joyful for his partner, into it.

Sword was a skilled and awfully good Phighter, that much was a pure fact.

However this lighthearted feeling which came with a daily normal Phight quickly had changed the moment Rocket saw how Sword was looking after Banhammer had scored MVP for the fourth time in a row, pushing his younger cousin down the the third and later even the sixth place.

The tall, dragon - like Warden of Banland had loudly cheered, bragging about his scores.

Rolling his eyes in annoyment, Rocket had turned around to his partner which had stood next to him, like always, wanting to complain and bitch-talk about the Warden’s behavior and massive ego, however not getting further than a “Oh my God this guy is so awful don’t you-”.

Sword, who had previously been looking just a tad bit frustrated and tense, was staring at the screen and at the dragon of a Warden in horror.

His Gear so tightly in his claws that his hand trembled from the sheer force he put on the grip.

Rocket’s annoyed expression had immediately changed into an awfully worried one.

Asking Sword if he was okay, even if he could already tell both, what answer he would get and what was truly the case, the demi-deity had replied with a “I’m fine.” , muttered through grit teeth, his eyes never leaving the large screen, fixating on the Warden’s photo on which the older cousin was grinning widely, his four dragon eyes hidden behind a blindfold, which was nothing but a spit in the face of all the other Phighters, showing them that he could easily beat them without even seeing them, without even needing his eyesight, handicapping himself for fun, out of utter boredom, to make it “fair” for the others, only bragging with his skills and disgustingly high talent even more without needing to say anything, just looking at him was enough.

His purplish black armor was shining brightly, the large amethyst in the chestplate almost sparkling so polished was it. It was only what was expected of him. The Warden of Banland, Child of Windforce. Such a title didn’t come with looking anything less than flawless and polished shiny.

His gigantic Gear was lying over his shoulder as the Warden had effortlessly lifted it and put it over his shoulders, still standing up straight despite the heavy weight of the Gear which would easily crush everyone underneath it and which also had not only crushed Sword’s MVP steak and stats underneath it that day but also crushed his ego even more than it already had been before the had come to the Phights today.

With the screen hanging high over the heads of everyone in the lobby, it almost felt as if the Warden was grinning down at them, belittling them, his deep laugh in the background not helping at all.

He was belittling them after all.

With the Photo of him towering over them, Sword had felt small. He had felt vulnerable. He wasn’t allowed to feel vulnerable.

His eyes had darted from the photo of the MVP to his own stats, his icon and his mediocre stats sitting on the sixth place , clear and open for everyone to see on the large screen, his own name in red plastered next to it so that everyone could see to who these awful stats belonged, and back to the photo again.

Following his fiancè’s gaze, Rocket had wanted to say something but him taking a breath and opening his mouth ready to say something, anything which would stop Sword from spiraling down, if it wasn’t even too late for that by that time, was cut off by Dom’s loud voice echoing through the speakers announcing the next map voting, telling them to get ready and announcing the next Phight.

The next Phights were awful.

Rocket couldn’t remember when had been the last time he had seen Sword fight this desperately but also this scarily brutal.

There was barely any tactic left in his moveset.

He was running in almost mindlessly, spinning and dashing around, twirling his sword in his hands, letting nobody close to him.

He was moving faster than anyone , striking others down with more power than anyone else, scoring faster and more than the rest of the lobby.

Not caring for his own health or injuries, only caring about dealing damage and striking others down, only caring about getting the title of the MVP back so that his name wouldn’t be connected to mediocre stats, plastered over the entire screen for everyone to see his failure again, he ran into every Phight with so much anger and desperation that the medics which were paired with him in a round could barely keep up with keeping him alive, as the demi-deity dashed straight into the rows of the enemy team, not waiting for anyone to follow and support.
He didn’t need support. He didn’t want support. And he didn’t want to let anyone get the chance on getting to take a kill away from him.

However that didn’t come without any physical consequences.

After fighting all the next Phights on this level of speed and power, but especially after fighting all the next Phights this reckless, Sword had started to trip over his own feet, barely able to catch his breath in breaks as sweat rolled down his face, his white curls sticking to his forehead and his legs and arms were trembling.

His Gear was starting to feel too heavy for him in his hands and it drove him insane. It made him feel like the same little defenseless and vulnerable, scared and anxious newspawn he once was, unable to lift his own Gear.

While he had still been talking with Medkit and Rocket at the beginning of the rounds on this day, he was entirely silent by now, his look, from what Rocket could tell cold and stern , his eyes narrowing on his targets, his entire body clenching up the second the screen was lighting up again to show who had gotten MVP that round, only relaxing a bit again as he saw that it was him again.

Round after round it was him again.

It got to a point where the matches had gotten onesided.

There was even a point where for some reason, Banhammer and Sword had only ever gotten in separate teams, and Rocket was sure that it was Dom and Valk doing that on purpose in order to give the other team a slight bit of a chance.

Rocket had tried to talk to Sword, but it was useless. Rocket knew that much himself and yet he couldn’t stop himself from trying to get through to the other.

It was impossible. It felt like talking to a wall. HIs facade was too heavily pulled up.

Eventually, even Medkit had noticed, shooting Rocket concerned looks every now and then.

Both knew that they could not talk to Sword right now.

Sword would rather die than to open up in public, and especially not when his one cousin was fighting against him, even if they were in the same team they tried to take each other’s kill to score higher than the other, and also not when his other two cousins were watching them carefully the entire time, measuring their abilities and stats.

All that Rocket and Medkit could do what support Sword, watch and hope that he would snap out of it and calm down on his own.

It didn’t happen.

Instead he only seemed to loop himself down further into the spiral the longer the Phights went on and the worse he was feeling.

It was almost as if the trembling of his legs and the hurting of his body drove him even more insane.
When the Phightday had almost been over, Sword had reached his lowest point and at the same time his highest score.

It was a conquer round, the enemy team with Banhammer at the front had managed to take up the entire point for once. For the first time since hours.

Sword’s body had been aching horribly, not even the heals he got from Vinestaff fixing that issue.

Medkit had been put in the other team but even he would not have been able to fix it entirely. What Sword needed was rest, his entire power almost completely used up by now.

His heart had started to palpate, something it did often when he was overworking himself past his limits, he was panting heavily and he struggled to fight and as his movements got significantly slower, still scarily fast, faster than the rest of them, but still slower than how he was moving in the matches before.

It had only been a question of time when Sword would have reached this state, nobody was able to hold this level for this long without any negative side effects. Not even a deity.

A demi-deity in his case.

Something less than a deity.

Despite his body giving out, there was still this desperate, angry force in his movements, in the way he fought, refusing to show any sign of weakness, refusing to let Banhammer, or anyone else, but especially not Banhammer push him off his MVP place again.

Behind his visor, his eyes had that exact desperate and angry glimmer in them.

Hearing Vinestaff yell, asking how they should move forward now that the entire enemy team was on the point , an enemy that was dangerously good too with Banhammer and Biocraft at the front, Hyperlaser as the sniper as well as Subspace and Medkit as supports, not only having an immense force at the front but also nothing but pure talent in the ranged class, paired with the best medic in all the regions with a Phinisher that could revive people and with one of the most dangerous supports , Rocket had wanted to turn around and yell back that he had “no fucking clue” ,wanting to complain about who even allowed these guys to become a team, about who even made that team, but he once again on that day, had been cut off.

Next to him, Sword crouched down, before shooting up into the air, his bird-of-prey-like eyes fixating on the point, before activating his Phinisher.

Hovering high up in the sky, he had his wings spread out entirely, showing off the entire massive wing span they had , the, by now setting, sun hitting against the white feathers with brown tips, making them shimmer slightly, and hitting against the heavy armor, making it reflect it’s light, shining brightly, as his horns started to glow even brighter red as they were already glowing before, the red light throwing harsh and deep shadows onto him as he was channeling his entire Phinisher Power into his gear.

Lifting up his Sword, his eyes glowing as the Phinisher was activated, the red spinning cube creating lines appeared all around the point as they started to spin faster and faster, about to explode.

Seeing what Sword was doing, everyone besides Rocket ran to the point, knowing that it would either be a team wipe on the other side caused by Sword’s Phinisher or that the point would be free due to the team of Banhammer needing to run off the point if they didn’t want to get exploded by it.

Only Rocket had stood there like frozen in spot, his own gear heavy in his hold, letting it sink as he looked up, staring at the harpy-like demi-deity in the sky above him.

Usually he loved seeing Sword do this. He loved how the other looked with his Gear held up high in the sky, his wings spread out and his horns and eyes glowing fiercely.

He always looked eternal, taking Rocket’s breath every single time, making him thank the heavens above or whatever was there over them all , for letting him meet Sword and for allowing them to be happily together, for making Sword fall in love with him for reasons which were beyond Rocket , never thinking that one day a glorious yet so sweet and human demi-deity would fall in love with a demolitionist with anarchistic tendencies and a horrible sailor mouth.

However today, the sight made his heart ache and his stomach turn.

Frowning and furrowing his eyebrows he kept his eyes locked on Sword, not moving anywhere, just standing there, waiting for the other to come back to the ground.

He had to come back to the ground, flying was not allowed to really make the Phights even and fair, wings being a deity only trait after all.

Rocket, and everyone else, knew how much power it took out of someone to activate a Phinisher. It was nothing one could do lightly.

It was stupid of him to activate it. And Rocket had reached a point where he refused to just watch any longer.

Sword’s state was bad to say at least and this Phight had been awful so far, making his state even worse so recklessly flinging himself up in the sky and activating his Phinisher was not only idiotic, it should also have given him the rest.

Watching him as he floated down to the ground, less slow and graceful as he usually did, this time more falling down from the sky than usual, almost as if his body was too heavy for his wings, almost as if his wings couldn’t carry him anymore, almost if he had blacked out for a second, Rocket felt both, like yelling at him and like hugging him, begging him to stop, that it was idiotic what he was doing, that it was stupid as shit, that nobody was waiting for him to prove anything, that he was only trying to prove something to himself, that he was breaking himself for absolutely nothing.

Rocket knew how the deities were. If they had an opinion on something or someone, not even this person breaking themselves would change their opinion, too proud to admit that they were in the wrong.

It was useless.

But Sword didn’t see that. He was living in this mindspace he got so many years ago.

Succeed, prove yourself to them all. That was all he wanted, all he thought about doing in the Phights.

Landing on the ground with a thud, Sword’s legs gave out , his body and armor too heavy, forcing him to fall on one knee, his skin scraping off against the rocky and hard ground, blood drawing from his knee immediately.

Running next to Sword, Rocket came to a halt the moment he stood next to him.

Sword averted his gaze, turning his head away, lowering it and his own gaze, as he wiped something off his mouth.

Upon looking closely at the other’s leather glove with which he just wiped over his mouth, Rocket felt his heart sink upon seeing crimson red blood on it.

Blood came out from the corners of his mouth, his feathers were messed up, some falling out, slowly floating and twirling in the air down onto the ground next to him where they would then lie motionlessly as if they died , his hair was a mess, he was breathing heavily, panting, his hands were shaking and his Gear was lying on the floor next to him, still in his firm grip but his arm too weak to lift it up.

Crouched down, Sword kneeled to Rocket, refusing to look at the other, trying to catch his breath, unable to stand up, having to collect his powers at first again, even if it was eating him up alive that he couldn’t stand up, each second he was kneeling there crouched down, his Gear on the ground next to him, felt like torture, feeling Dom’s and Valk’s eyes like daggers in his back, waiting for them to make a comment about him kneeling there on the ground without doing anything, without moving at all. Usually they commented on everything, their eyes everywhere on the battlefield, never missing anything that happened. They had to make a comment soon. Soon everyone would know.

Sure they probably wondered where he and Rocket were, but it was different only knowing that others were wondering about your whereabouts and hearing your failure getting loudly announced and commented on through the speakers for everyone to hear, making sure that everyone knew exactly what happened.

He would get confronted after the Phight by the most, asking what happened. He could already hear his brother’s slightly angry yet deeply concerned and also scolding voice in his ears. He could already see Medkit’s concerned, worried and disappointed gaze, brows furrowed, the other’s light green eye looking down at him, scanning him to find all the injuries and health issues he was having and showing.

Weirdly enough, no single comment came over the speakers, Dom and Valk instead yapping about god knew what happened on the battlefield.

Something about Medkit laughing mischievously, loudly and especially nastily about Subspace almost not noticing that he was standing in Sword’s Phinisher, making himself invisible and bailing the last second, shock written all over the scientist despite his face being hidden behind the large gas mask and the large, round, reflective pink sunglasses hiding his eye and with that, hiding his true feelings from everyone else in the lobby.

Under different circumstances, Rocket would have laughed about hearing this. He would have yelled a stupid comment to Medkit. He would have been happy that Medkit laughed, even if it was a laugh caused by Schadenfreude. A laugh was a laugh after all, and Medkit laughed way too rarely.

But on that day, Rocket didn’t even react to that announcement, not even listening entirely to all the stuff Dom and Valk were yapping about.

He stood wordlessly next to Sword, glaring down at the other, his own Gear still in his hold, gripping it as thight as possible to have anything to hold on to, trying to have something that would make himself feel more secure and which would help himself to calm down, or at least not to show that he was anything else but calm on the outside, his thin brows still tightly furrowed, his eyes narrowed on the other who was still averting his gaze.

He was so unsure on what to do, he wanted to scream for Vinestaff so she could heal him up well enough so that that blood finally stopped running from his mouth, he wanted to yell at Sword for being so reckless, for taking it that far once more, for breaking himself continually, for being so stupid, asking if he didn’t cared about what Rocket himself felt in this situation at all but at the same time he knew that this was awful to ask, having to calm himself a bit so that he would not say anything like that. He knew that Sword cared. He cared so awfully much about Rocket, that was out of question. It was just that his family put him under so much pressure that he turned blind on what his self destructive acts did to people around him. It wasn’t his fault and Rocket knew that. Rocket knew that Sword’s love and care for Rocket were out of question. Still, Rocket felt hurt and ever since he could remember, him feeling hurt always switched over into anger. He was working on it but right now, the view of his love suffering this much due to his own actions, made it hard to keep himself rational and together, made it hard not to yell stuff he would regret the second he said them because he knew that they weren’t true and only a thing fabricated by his hurt and angry mind.

He wasn’t even angry at Sword, he was angry at the other’s family and that made him even more unsure how to react.

If he showed anger, Sword would understand it as anger aimed at Sword himself, at least he would do that in this mental state.

Usually he knew how to understand Rocket’s explosive anger and how to handle it but right now, he most likely would misunderstand the entire reaction of his partner.

He aimed everything at himself and this would be his last missing reason to crumble entirely.

However trying to confront him calmly also did not work earlier, it made Rocket go insane.

Out of all the possible things Rocket thought about saying, wanted to say, out of all the possible sentences he came up with, a cold “Cut it out.” left his lips without even thinking about it, still thinking about all the things he had instead wanted to say before even realizing that this sentence had left his lips.

He was still looking down at the other with a hurt and upset, even a bit angry gaze but behind that, there was a deep sadness and desperation in his eyes which leaked into his voice again.

What he had said had sounded colder than he intended it to sound. It was said colder than he had wanted to and yet there was the exact same sadness and desperation in his voice underneath that layer of coldness, which was also in his own eyes behind the layer of hurt and anger.

“Cut it out, you’ve done enough. I love you, Sword, cut it out.”, he repeated. This time it sounded more like a plea than a demand.

Only now, the other had looked up to the other, his expression hidden behind his helmet but Rocket could tell by Sword’s voice, it was one filled with desperation.

“Just let me do this. I have to do this. Rocket, I have to win this one round.”

With that, he dragged himself back up on his feet, his gear making a loud hash noise as it was dragged up from the stone ground, stumbling a bit before standing, blood still running down his knee, from the corners of his mouth and from the dozens of smaller injuries he had plastered all over his body on places where his skin was exposed , before running to the point again, leaving Rocket and a few feathers falling out of his wings again behind.

Rocket had wanted to grab him, wanted to talk to him, wanted to prevent him from running into the fight and into the point again but he was too slow and Sword too fast.

Watching him wordlessly, he looked at the white brown feathers slowly floating down on the ground a few meters away from him.

For a second he thought about turning around towards any camera he could spot, knowing pretty damn well that Dom and Valk had seen this and had for whatever reason decided to be merciful and keep it out of the announcements, not making any comments and keeping it a secret , wanting to yell into the camera that their horrible family issues are the cause of this He, simply because he wanted someone to answer for all of that suffering and Dom and Valk were closest to him right now and closest to the family as well but he didn’t.

Instead he loudly groaned before using his Gear to shoot himself up in the air and closer to the point as well, standing there doing nothing, would not fix anything either.

It had felt like centuries until the last Phight had ended.

Sword really had pulled through, scoring MVP all the time, until one single time in which Katana scored MVP out of nowhere, seemingly locking in for god knows what reason.

Luckily, that didn’t cause yet another crash out on Sword’s side, the Phighter too tired and worn out by now, looking as if all of his powers got sucked out of him as he wordlessly stood next to Rocket in the lobby, panting heavily, breathing loudly, his head hanging, unable to fight to hold it upright any longer.

Medkit and Vinestaff had by now taken turns to heal Sword, whoever was in his team focused on healing him, so at least Rocket did not need to worry anymore about the blood coming out from the corners of his mouth, thinking back about the sight his stomach would twist and turn each and every time again, making him feel gut-wrenchingly sick.

He wanted to hold Sword, to drag him into safety, far away from the eyes of all the other’s, far away from the eyes and the presence from anyone of his family so that he could finally relax again and feel a bit at peace, so that he would finally calm a bit more down, so as soon as the last Phight ended, Rocket just wordlessly grabbed Sword’s uncharacteristically cold hand, dragging him with him to the bus station , not wanting to wait until Zuka came back from driving the first row of Phighters back to Crossroads from where they then took busses to wherever they wanted to go.

Sword did not resist, letting his Gear finally evaporate, wordlessly following Rocket, stumbling after him, his feet heavy.

Rocket hated it, he hated how Sword just let him do whatever he wanted again.

He hated how empty and puppet-like Sword looked again, all the power and burning anger left him now where he had reached his goal once more, where he had proven everyone that he was just as good as his cousin, if not even better and more powerful.

Everything at the cost of his own well-being.

The bus trip back home was quiet. Neither of them spoke.

Rocket had shoved Sword into a seat, forcing him to finally sit down, watching as the other practically fell into the seat, his body visibly relaxing against his will the second he could sit down and get some weight off his legs , before sitting down in the seat next to him, scooting as close as just possible on this kind of seats , leaning against Sword, feeling the other’s cool armor plates against his own body, not once letting go of his fiancès hand, squeezing it tightly and caressing it lightly with his own thumb on the back of it.

Ready to spit any kind of rude reply at anyone who would try to get either of them, or both of them, to get up and give their seats to someone else, Rocket sat there, staring into the nothingness of the busses middle way in front of him, while Sword finally and let his head rest on Rocket’s shoulder, instead of quietly staring outside the window next to him, watching the houses pass by.

Feeling his, Rocket felt his heart skip a beat.

Even if it was uncomfortable due to Sword still wearing the stupid helmet, trying really hard not to hurt Rocket with either his helmet nor his horns, it was a good sign, it was a sign that there was no tension between them even despite their whacky conversation earlier.

It made Rocket sigh, his body relaxing a bit into the seat as he squeezed Sword’s hand once again, a bit tighter this time, surprised that that was even possible at all, given how tight he had held and squeezed it before already.

At least he didn’t need to worry about any arguments.

Upon arriving at Crossroads, they had quickly left the bus and dragged themselves back to Da Shop, back into the little apartment over Da Shop in which Rocket and Zuka lived ever since Rocket was a teen.

By now, it had also gotten Sword’s home as well.

By the time they had arrived, Zuka was still away, luckily.

Back inside the flat, the silence between them was still present and uncomfortable but the second the door fell shut behind them, Rocket locking it tightly with a loud clacking sound, relief and a tad bit of relaxation washed over both Inphernals, finally being somewhere where nobody but them could see them and watch them. Finally being somewhere safe and secure from the eyes of others. From the judgement. From all these things which made Sword spiral like that.

Shortly after, they pulled through with their ritual again, making their way to the small bathroom of the apartment which was just big enough for both of them to comfortably fit in together, even if Sword had to be a bit careful with his large wings, Rocket then asking for permission to help Sword out of his armor to which Sword had wordlessly nodded, just standing in front of the other without moving at all, his head hanging low.

Reaching for his helmet, Rocket finally removed it, finally able to see the other’s face entirely and not just half of it and the other half covered by shadows.

Seeing it made his heart sink painfully, a lump forming in his throat.

There was dried blood on the corners of his mouth, there was a little cut on his lips, there were little injuries which had dried blood around them and which were still red and a bit open , most of the bigger ones healed up by Medkit and Vinestuff however and luckily, his face was shiny and damp from the sweat, his usually messy and fluffy white shortish curls with the one small braid which reached to a bit under his shoulders always in them was pressed flat, some curls sticking against his forehead and his eyes were dull, looking at Rocket with so much regret and exhaustion that it made him feel sick. The dark eyebags underneath them looked more present than ever, just like the one large deep and messy scar right underneath his one eye.

Setting the helmet aside with a clacking sound, Rocket gently cupped Sword’s face with both of his hands, both his warm soft hand and his cool metallic prosthetic hand feeling nice and familiar, as well as comforting on Sword’s burning up face, softly letting his finger run over that one deep scar, caressing it wordlessly before pulling Sword in, kissing him softly on his lips, just lightly in order not to hurt him even more due to the cut on his lips, just a small peck, a small soft kiss that was saying so much more than thousands of words could have said in that moment.

Pulling back again, yellow, tired eyes looked into light blue sad and almost desperate eyes.

They stood like that for quite a while, not doing anything, both not daring to say anything and also waiting for the other to break the silence, until Rocket finally sighed, letting go of Sword again, telling him that they both really had to shower and get into fresh clothes now and that they had to patch up Sword.

After Rocket had helped him out of the armor, Rocket had wanted to leave the bathroom again, wanting to make something eat in the time in which he waited for the other to finish showering, Sword already having broke the silence one time while they were struggling to get him out of the armor pieces, telling him that he didn’t need to help him any further after they got him out of the armor, yet Sword stopped him by grabbing the other’s arm.

“Stay, please.”

These had been the only words the other had almost whispered, his voice weak and small.

Rocket had stared at him for a moment, before nodding.

After a moment they had decided on showering at the same time, wanting to save each other the time in which they had to wait for the other to finish their shower, the situation being suffocating enough already, so after having taken off his prosthetic, they both showered together almost in complete silence, neither of them knowing what to say.

Both had wanted to say so many things, ask so many things, apologize, but right now all they did was carefully help each other wash up and listen to the water of the shower head fall onto the tiled floor.

Around an hour and a half, both were in pyjamas and Rocket had patched up Sword entirely, neatly wrapped bandages all over the other’s hands and arms, small bandaids on his face, bigger bandaids on his legs and the biggest bandaid on his knee.wi

Usually, everyone would leave the Phights tired but uninjuried due to Dom and Valk’s respawning and power refilling, and due to the medics healing but in this case there had been too much injuries stacking up over and over again on a single person and the powers of the medics also had limits, even of the best medic of all the regions, eventually their powers were used entirely and had to recharge as well, therefore only doing minimal healing, just enough to heal up the worst and most threatening injuries but not able to heal all the smaller ones anymore.

Rocket had left their bedroom again to shove some pizzas into the over as well as other stuff he found sitting around in the freezer, he was awfully hungry and Sword had to eat as well, no matter if he wanted to or not, after exhausting himself so much and after overstepping all his limits this badly and for such a long period of time at such a high level, he really needed to eat something and Rocket was not up for any discussions anymore, after they both had put on their pyjamas, leaving Sword behind with a short “I’ll be back in a minute don’t do anything stupid.” before kissing him again and then leaving the room, leaving the door wide open instead of shutting it like he usually did.

A signal, I’m here, you can come to me if you want and need to. Call for me and I am there for you if you need help.

Sword understood it immediately, a faint small smile creeping on his lips.

He didn’t understand how he deserved Rocket.

He loved him so much it made his heart ache and therefore he felt even worse about what he did today, the words Rocket had said to him on the battlefield still ringing in his ears, still feeling the gaze of the other looking down on him as he was crouching down on him, even if he hadn’t seen the expression of the other, he had been able to feel his gaze, he had been able to imagine vividly how the other looked like at that moment.

It made him feel so guilty, so crappy.

He was thankful that Rocket understood but still he couldn’t help but feel so horrible.

It was as if only then the realisation of what he had been doing washed over him.

He had proven himself once more but at the same time, Rocket had seen him like this once more, he had needed to witness all of this, Sword had put him through all of this again.

Did he really prove himself if Rocket had been able to see right through his facade the entire time, more clearly than since months?

Or did he really just made himself believe that he had proven anything to anyone?

His stats were otherworldly though so that must have been doing something. And if he did all of this while in such a state, it was even more difficult to archive what he had been doing, wasn’t it? Was it even worthy of being something he was proud of when he had hurt Rocket this much with it?

The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Rocket. He would rather kill himself than having to hurt Rocket so why did he keep falling into this blind state where he accidentally hurt the other?

How was Rocket not tired of him yet?

Snapping himself out of it, he shook his head. How did he dare to think like that?

He really needed some fresh air, he had to stop his mind from spiraling any further down.

When Rocket entered their bedroom again, Sword stood outside on the large, flat balcony.

Feeling his heart miss a few beats, Rocket rushed outside, scared that the worst was
happening, but slowing down the moment he saw that Sword was merely resting his arms on the little wall, looking down into the streets underneath them, a distant expression on his face but not making any action to jump.

Sighing, Rocket stepped next to him.

Resting his own prosthetic arm on the red brick wall, digging in his own pockets of the pink sweatpants he wore, fetching out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, he looked up into the night sky at the stars, the view always calming him down, their beauty capturing him each and every time.

That night, some heavy clouds were covering some parts of the sky but for some reason the stars seemed to shine brighter than usually, their light blue, silverish light seemingly trying to fight off the darkness, breaking through the heavy grey clouds in the sky, their shimmer visible even from behind and in between the heaviest, darkest cloud trying to cover the night sky and it’s stars with it. It almost seemed as if the stars refused to let the clouds devour their night sky, shielding it from them, helping it fend off the darkness.

It was strangely comforting and beautiful and to Rocket, who loved the stars ever since he can remember, they looked prettier than ever to him with their strong glow.

Looking back next to him at Sword, he leaned against him, the other’s skin still a bit too hot from overworking himself like that but he cooled down a bit which relieved Rocket.

All Sword needed now was rest. Then the issues would fix themselves again.

“You maybe wanna talk about what happened today?”

Finally Rocket had been unable to handle and accept the silence between them any longer with only ever a few words or sentences being spoken between them before the heavy silence came back again, lying over them like a heavy suffocating blanket with so many words left unsaid, robbing them of their air they needed to talk, causing the words to die inside their mouths.

He needed to talk with Sword now. He had to. He wanted to help the other who was sill so obviously caught up too deep in his own thought spirals.

For a moment there was silence, before Sword leaned also against Rocket, leaning into the soft touch of the other.

“I don’t know. It was a bit too much today. I didn’t plan that on happening.”

“I know…You don’t need to talk to me about it if you don’t want to.”

“Nono I want to, I don’t want to keep secrets from you, but I don’t know how to put it, you know me.”

“I do. Just take your time love.”

Lighting his cigarette which he had taken out of the pack and which he put in between his lips, he slid the pack with the remaining cigarettes back into the pocket of the pyjama pants, before sliding the lighter into it as well as soon as the tip of the cigarette started to light up in a soft faint orange yellowish glow, smoke emerging from the tip, raising up to the sky, the smoke dancing around in the air, taking the form of the weirdest yet strangely prettiest shapes and swirls as the air played with it until it evaporated into nothingness again.

Immediately, the smell of burning cigarette tobacco spread through the air, making Rocket inhale and exhale deeply as soon as he had taken the cigarette out from in between his lips, holding it between his fingers , taking in the smell of it happily, his body vividly relaxing.

Smoking was a habit about which he wasn’t proud in the slightest but it was a habit which he picked up from his dad who was one of the worst chainsmokers he ever met, always a cigarette dangling from his lips or in between his lips since Rocket met him, rarely ever seeing him without during the day, often only ever after getting up and during lunchtimes.

Otherwise Zuka would always smoke. He smelled like it too.

Ever since Rocket was young, the faint smell of cigarette smoke lingered around his father and in the air around him so as soon as he smelled cigarette smoke, the certain brand his father loved so much, he knew that his father was close, that he was finally back from driving god knows where to get supplies for the shops stock or from driving Phighters to Phights and in the evening after the Phights, back into Crossroads again.

The smell of cigarette smoke lingered around the entire shop and even stronger in the shared apartment even though both strictly smoked outside or on the open window, the smell stuck to Zuka, his hair and his clothes already from the years of chain smoking so much, never stopping and never wanting to quit, the cigarettes often giving him the only source of relaxation, happiness, comfort and the only way for him to calm down.

Even if he barely ever said it, Rocket loved his dad and so it was only understandable that cigarettes, the smell of them , the entire object, reminded him of his father, giving him a source of comfort and calming him down.

After years of trying to keep the habit as small as possible, he finally couldn’t stop himself from admitting it, there was almost nothing better after a Phightday than to have a good smoke outside in the fresh air and right now, that was all he needed.

For a while, they both watched the smoke dance around or the clouds of smoke rise and disappear into the night air after Rocket exhaled them , until Sword finally spoke up again, looking away, down onto the streets, avoiding Rocket’s look again since Rocket now looked at him.

“It’s just, I need to win, I need it. I love to win, Rocket. I want it all.. The MVP title, the otherworldly stats, I need it, I need to prove myself to them.

For them I am nothing more than a mere demi-deity, less than that, a being with two wings and the eyes of a deity smacked on it and with a Gear way too heavy for it and with a Gear that loosely looks like theirs but so much less glorious, so much less…deity-like.

I can always feel their eyes on me. I can feel them watching me ever since they know about my existence.

And they always stare at my father as well. He never did anything to them. And yet they treat him like this. As if he’s the worst criminal on earth. He is not. He is such a good mentor, such a kind being, and I need to prove his worth to them as well. He taught me everything .So my talent is also a measurement for his mentoring.

And besides, they all always think that I can’t do stuff. You heard Banhammer a few months ago. “How can someone as small and vulnerable like me be even considered a deity?”

I’m nothing like them and because of that , I have to prove that I have the balls.

I need to prove that I am just as powerful and glorious as them so that I have some kind of worth in their eyes, that my father has some kind of worth again in their eyes. I can’t just hide behind the shadows of my oh so wonderful cousins forever. Not when I know that they keep expecting things from me.

For some reason they treat me both, like I am the worst and as if I am something extraordinary. As if they wait for me to do something great only to watch me fail over and over again, because I am not as great as them.

I am nothing like them. I don’t belong with them.

Look at me. Look at my tiny horns and then look at the horns of Banhammer, Dom, Valk, ANYONE of the Swords.

I am not one of them but I have to pretend as if I am, I have to prove constantly that I am one of them, TO THEM.

All my training Venom gave me can’t be for nothing. “

Sword ranted and ranted, eventually his ranting turning into desperate rambling, his breathing becoming too hitched, too fast, his hands clenching into fists which he shut so tight that his hands trembled from the pure force he shut them with, his claws digging into the soft skin of his left hand, hurting him a tad bit and into the neatly wrapped thick bandage around his his hand on the right side.

Noticing it, Rocket immediately slipped his hand into Sword’s left hand, unclenching his hand and holding it softly, caressing it, Sword at first freezing up before softly returning the hold, wrapping his claws around Rocket’s hand, softly and carefully as not to hurt him with these sharp claw-like fingers.

Squeezing his hand, Rocket looked right at the other’s face, even if Sword still turned it away from him, still staring at the street which was lit up by the orange glowing old street lanterns.

“You know you probably can’t hear it anymore but you don’t need to prove anything to them AND NOW LET ME FINISH, they are all old egocentric dicks, I can’t stand either of them besides maybe Dom and Valk. Sword, it’s not worth it to break yourself for people who will always and I mean always belittle you, find something on you which you aren’t doing right or for people who constantly expect you to do extraordinary things, even if you currently can’t possibly do something that great without seriously damaging yourself. And that is NOT a weakness. Or a sign of weakness.

You think too much about what others think about you, what others might expect of you, what others want from you, who others want you to be.

Don’t let others decide who you are???????

Look I know I’m not too good with words and speeches and shit like that but Sword, I beg you, stop breaking yourself for them, stop trying to prove shit to them, stop trying to fulfil any stupid expectation.

You don’t owe them ANYTHING. You heard me??? And you don’t owe them your well-being, that especially not.

You can’t make them happy.

Some say you are “the golden descendant”, whatever the fuck that means, and some say you are weak.

I know trying to do both, fulfill the expectations of one and prove the other wrong at the same time through acts of sheer power are tempting but oh my god.

Don’t do that for them. Not for old ass people that have nothing better to do than tear their own family down and apart. “

By now Sword was looking at Sword with big, wide eyes, in the light of the stars Rocket almost thought he saw tears in the other’s eyes.

“And frankly, they have a huge issue if they refuse to see or maybe can’t even see how fucking amazing you are and how powerful you are. “

Sheepishly grinning Rocket looked at the other who seemed to be stunned to speak, before he suddenly leaped at Rocket, pulling the other in a bonecrashing hug, almost making the other stumble and fall over backwards, pulling Sword with him down.

A bit startled at first, Rocket grumbled something about Sword needing to careful, about how he almost fell over, how he would have dragged Sword down with him, how he’s holding a cigarette which could have burned him and how his prosthetic leg can’t handle that much sudden impact to balance out but while he was complaining, he pressed the cigarette out on the wall, flicking it off the balcony before returning the hug.

They stood there like that for quite a while, the cool night air feeling crisp, playing with their hair and with Sword’s feathers on his wings as for a while they just enjoyed each other’s presence, managing to calm down for a bit, however Rocket feeling how Sword was fighting against tears, trying desperately to hold them back.

Rubbing circles into the taller ones back, he tried to comfort him, no words being needed to understand each other and what the other was wanting to say.

They would have stood there for hours like this, each other in a tight hold, if Rocket wouldn’t have remembered the food in the oven, ripping his own eyes open again, yelling about the food in the oven, startling Sword a bit, before freeing himself out of the hold and rushing inside, yelling a “Come with me dinner is ready I fear???!!”, making Sword chuckle a bit before he looked back at the street underneath them once more, taking in their strange beauty of being entirely dark and silent just lit up with the old lantern drawing the street in a dim orangey light, not a single soul walking on it at this time, then looking up at the sky for the first time since he entered the balcony, staring right at the bright stars fending of the clouds restlessly, fiercely and with such a beauty and strength, that it made Sword’s heart ache.

Captured by the beauty of the night sky and the bright silver blue stars, he stood there staring up into it for a while until he heard his fiancè loudly cussing inside the kitchen, followed by a loud crash which sounded like the metal trays inside the oven falling onto the oven’s glass door, so Sword tore his eyes off the night sky and rushed inside, finally, closing the door to the balcony behind him and locking it shut.

One burned hand and a lot more cussing later, Rocket and Sword were sitting inside the living room on the small old red couch which had already stood there when Sword came to visit Rocket when both were mere teens and which both of them had gotten quite emotionally attached to, neither of them wanting to imagine that one day the couch could break way too attached to a stupid old red couch than what was probably reasonable, eating pizza, fries, chicken nuggets, spring rolls and whatever else Rocket had found and shoved into the oven.

Sitting closely together, their legs tangled, bodies touching, they sat next to each other, watching TV.

Since nothing interesting was playing, they settled on watching the news.

Nothing was new, Blackrock tweaking again and threatening another region, Subspace had invented yet another kind of Biocraft, the cult Church of the True Eye was still wanted and anyone who had information should call the local police station,... It was nothing new.

However suddenly, the large grin of Banhammer appeared on screen, a picture of the Warden on the entrance to Banland next to the news screen.

Posing in an overly confident manner, Gear over his shoulder again, grinning widely, tuskers showing, wearing his shiny, amethyst covered armor like always, wearing golden earrings on his pierced pointy ears, a ring on one of his tuskers, golden ring piercing on the middle of his lower lip, golden ring septum piercing and many more golden piercings all over his face, golden rings also attached to the long, perfect, jet black dreads put into a high ponytail and not wearing his blindfold, instead looking right into the camera with his shiny, four purple piercing eyes which shimmered in the same colors as the amethyst on his armor, he looked majestic. Even Rocket had to admit that.

Still, he groaned in annoyance, Banhammer being that last person he wanted to see today.

His big mouth had caused more than enough issues today and Rocket did not want to add something to the list.

Next to him, Sword was looking at the screen like a deer in the headlights, chewing slower and slower until he stopped chewing entirely, the pizza just sitting in his mouth uncomfortably, making his cheek look swollen, as they both listened to the news about Banhammer reaching a new record in jailing villains and being praised for keep the regions safe.

As if it was one big cruel joke on Sword made by the universe itself, right after Banhammer had disappeared from the screen, the video of a live interview of Flipside now spread over the screen, showing Dom and Valk in their impressive high-tech studio, sitting in their chairs, wearing their fancy armors, Valk’s eyes hidden behind the shutter glasses, Dom’s entire face hidden behind the big hood they always wore, giving both a cool yet a bit intimidating and mysterious aura, their large, beautifully carved horns shimmering in the floodlights of the studio as if thousands of stars were inside of them, and even Valk looked impressive even if he was so short, his large yellow dragon wings which he had neatly folded behind his back making up for the lack of height.

They talked happily about the upcoming event, teasing the new theme, making a big secret out of it and hyping up the masses before talking about improvements they had planned for the Phights and then switching to making advertisements for their new album dropping soon and for their collab with other big stars of the Inpherno.

Sword didn’t understand it.

What was he doing wrong?

His cousins were out there, plastered all over the screen with such massive achievements, Dom and Valk even managing three whole separate things perfectly and becoming the face of not only the Phigths but also of Crossroads, rising up to famous worldstars, everyone knowing them and their music and yet they didn’t seem to break under this pressure.

He didn’t even know if they got the same amount of pressure he was receiving, if yes, they dealt with it way better than he was .

Feeling a pang of jealousy inside his chest which painfully grew the longer he was looking at his cousins in their fancy suits in their large studio with their shimmering large horns and their thousands of fans listening he grimaced.

Dom and Valk were rebels too. They didn’t follow the usual image of a deity like Banhammer did.

They stopped being involved too much with The Heights and with taking sides, fighting against Inphernals and against other family members, ever since Dom got his wing and eye ripped out.

They just pulled the emergency brake and have been doing their own thing since then.

There was even a rumor going around that Valk flipped off one of the deities and left an argument when their plan to just do their own thing became known and caused issues in the deity family which was so obsessed with their outward facade which they all had to hold up and carry out flawlessly.

And yet, Dom and Valk proved them all wrong and did it so effortlessly. By now, they all let them in peace, the two of them having become their own fraction.

It made Sword feel awful.

What was he doing wrong?

Noticing Sword, Rocket reached for the remote lying on the table, quickly changing channels.

“Enough of that I’ve seen them long enough for today.”

Sword just nodded but his reaction came late, as if he woke up from a trance.

Why couldn’t he be more like them? Why did he have to break under the pressure while they blossomed under it.

Why did he have to break himself for their approval and why did he need to be born with such a undeity-like personality.

Next to his cousins he looked like a child, crying too much, worrying too much, being too naive, too scared, too anxious, too caring, too loving.

The rest of the dinner was almost entirely silent again, both watching whatever movie was playing, however neither of them truly watched, instead lost in thought, Sword staring into the screen with empty eyes, Rocket staring at Sword, lost in thought.

If Sword would have been able to read thoughts, he would have seen many, many rather graphic, not really pretty images of Rocket vividly imagining blowing up The Heights and doing so rather happily.

Maybe it would have been for the best.

-

It was deep at night when Sword shot up, gasping for air, his one hand clutched around his neck, his other hand clasped over his mouth, his eyes wide in terror, panting, sweat dripping down his forehead as tears formed in his eyes.

He hated night terrors, he had them for so long. He was defenseless against them.

They were always about the same things, Rocket dying because he was too weak to save him, his family disapproving him and deciding to punish him, telling him he should have never been born, that he was a shame of a deity, that he wasn’t even worthy the title of a deity, that he was too weak, to emotional, to vulnerable, to forgiving, and sometimes they were about his father.

After he woke up, he usually could barely remember any of it but the rough concept of what he had dreamt about. All that was left was the suffocating feeling of pure panic and desperation, twisting his stomach, tightening his chest and making his throat close up as his entire body shook.

Pulling his knees close, he buried his head on the blanket on the spot under which his knees were located, forcefully holding his mouth shut with shaking hands and with as much power as he could, trying to quiet down the sobs which started to escape his mouth against his will as tears fell down his cheeks, at first only a few as he tried to stop them from falling, then more and more until he felt like he would never stop crying again.

His heart felt so heavy that his chest ached painfully as his entire body continued to clench up painfully, shaking even more severely.

At first, he didn’t even notice that next to him, Rocket had shot up, reaching out for the old lamp next to him on his nightstand, pulling on the string and turning the light on, the orange soft glow immediately lighting up the room a tad bit, creating a warm light around their bed , just enough from them to see clearly, looking next to him at Sword who had cowered himself together, as his body shook from both, the violent trembling and the heavy sobs.

“Oh Sword”, was everything the Phighter mumbled, his voice breaking as he carefully placed his hand on the other’s shoulder.

“Look at me love.”

Sword just shook his head, horrified by showing entirely how weak he was. Hiding his face was his last resort. HIs last way of feeling not too horribly weak and embarrassed of his own emotions.

“Sword please…”

Letting his fingers run through Sword’s messy curls, Rocket pleaded to him.

“Just let me help you. Somehow. Please just talk to me, I beg you.”

Rocket sounded so uncharacteristically lost and small, his voice cracking.

It didn’t sound like Rocket at all and Sword felt sick.

He didn’t want to worry Rocket that much just because he was born, feeling his own emotions too strong and being too weak to firmly hold them all behind a facade.

Yet all he wanted right now was to be held by Rocket, to be comforted by the other even if it meant openly showing how weak he was.

How undeity-like he was.

He couldn’t stand it anymore.

Looking up, he glanced at the other.

His eyes were red, his cheeks too, burning up from crying as tears ran down his cheeks endlessly, as if they would never stop from running ever again. As if they wanted to drown him.

His entire face was wet, curls sticking to his face once again.

Rocket’s expression immediately softened the moment he laid his eyes on Sword’s face, and Sword really couldn’t take it any longer.
Leaping at Rocket, crashing in the other’s arm, he held as tight as he could onto him, burying his face in the other’s shoulder as he sobbed loudly, tears staining the other’s shirt.

Instantly, Rocket wrapped his arm around Sword, buying his own face in the nape of Sword’s neck, Sword melting in the embrace.

Rubbing soft circles into the other’s back, Rocket held him firmly as he was hushing him, telling him quietly to breathe over and over again.

“I’m weak. I’m so awfully weak”, was everything Sword could cry out over and over again, Rocket shaking his head each and every time he said it.

It was as if everything which he had bottled up during the day broke out of him in the most humiliating way ever but being held and loved by Rocket made his heart feel less painfully heavy and made his chest ache less.

“I’m never gonna be what they want me to become!”

“Sword, that is so unimportant. What counts is that you are healthy, happy and become the person you truly want to be, not someone you have to be.

And frankly, I don’t care. I love you. Either way. I love you when you stand in front of me in that shining armor, face hidden behind the helmet with the impressive red flowy long feathers, the cape flowing behind you, your wings entirely stretched out and your Gear in your hands, acting in your role or if you are the Sword I once met and fell for, the one you truly are. The one dressed in clothes that look like straight out of the mid 80s, the one who buys way too many Jazz vinyls, the one that dances with me in the living room even though I can’t even dance, who isn’t bothered about me stepping on his feet all the time, the one that cares and worries so truly and deeply for his brother, the one whose laugh is so contagious, the one who always sees the good in everyone, the one who is the literal embodiment of the sun, the one who is yapping about music for hours and I love it each and every time, the one who kidnaps me to the vinyl store, the movie theatres, diners, the one who goes stargazing with me and lets me yap about my stupid little interest in the stars and constellations and their meanings and old myths connected to the stars and the sun. The one who cried for me when I was smart enough to blow myself up and who stayed with me through day and night in that hospital because he knew that I was terrified even if I refused to say it. The one I love so much that my heart aches. The one that is such a skilled Phighter. The one I will marry in a few months. The one I can’t wait to marry. I will love you either way, and I do that unconditionally just please, don’t break yourself for people who can’t even see how truly awesome you are, who can’t value you unless you become their perfect version of you, who is so much unlike you because they never even met you the way I did.

If they view emotions as weakness, I fear they are the ones that are weak.

Sword I love you. You aren’t weak. And who cares if you become like they want you to become. I certainly don’t. I just want you to be healthy and happy and with me. “

Listening to Rocket, his sobs had quieted down, now only some quiet sobs escaping his lips, silent tears running down his cheeks as he turned his head to let it still rest on Rocket’s shoulder but still look at him.

Wiping his tears away, Rocket smiled at him, his own eyes glassy by now. The light of the lamp snitching on him making the tears in his eyes shine.

He was so scared for Sword and he hoped that he would one day, see himself like Rocket saw him.

Looking at him in perplexity, Sword stared up at him, trying to come up with anything to say, his mind seemingly struggling to process what he had just been told, until suddenly, he smiled at Rocket, a genuine, warm smile, tears still running down his cheeks.

“I love you so much. I don’t deserve you.”

“Oh shut it. You do. I don’t deserve you.”

“Nonsense!”

“I will only agree if you agree too.”

Laughing a bit, Sword rolled his eyes.

“Okayokay.”

Grinning at him Rocket, leaned in, kissing the top of his head.

“Stop talking such stupid bullshit about yourself will you?”

“I will try.”

“Good.”

They stayed like this, lying in each other’s embrace for the rest of the night, listening to each other’s heartbeat and breathing, feeling safe and comforted in the hold of the other.

Rocket kept kissing Sword’s top of the head and his temples, whispering “I love you.” over and over.

Eventually Sword had fallen asleep, the exhaustion washing over him entirely, making him unable to stay awake much longer.

Rocket stayed awake for a bit longer, running his fingers through Sword’s hair looking at the other sleeping peacefully, snoring lightly and his face finally fully relaxed, the light illuminating the dark shadows under the other’s eyes and the scars littered over his face.

They weren’t out of the woods yet, he knew that much. But at least Sword allowed him to take care of him tonight.

That meant more than one could imagine.

One day, Rocket would get him out of there. One day they would be happily married, safe from the deities, just like they were now in the safety of their bedroom behind the thick brick walls, hidden away from their prying eyes.

One day, it would be just them and Sword could finally be happy and be himself without breaking himself underneath the pressure of some assholes who thought that just because they wielded some fancy Gear they had power over everyone, and the right to tear down other family members.

One day they would get out of it and Sword would realize that he was enough, that he was worthy, that he had always been worthy, even without breaking himself for success.