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Mob felt like he was falling.
His weightless body plummeted through an endless and silent expanse, cold air rushing past him. A deep, bone-chilling pressure settled into his skin. He grunted, the sound swallowed instantly by the quiet as he forced his body to curl into a tight fetal position. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, bracing against the pounding dizziness, before prying them open.
Black was all that greeted him.
A dense, absolute void. He twisted and turned, craning his neck in every direction while spinning in the void. Just...darkness. Everywhere, in every direction.
Slowly, he felt his fall slow, the rush of air fading until he drifted to a complete stop. He hung there for a moment while glancing down at the invisible space beneath his boots. He chewed his lower lip, debating whether or not to test if something solid was below.
Making up his mind, he let out a shaking breath and extended his foot with caution. His boot hovered for a moment, then dropped. The moment it touched the surface, a soft, white ripple erupted from the point of contact. The ring of light expanded outward in circles, like a stone dropped into a pond, spreading across the invisible floor until the ripples thinned and dissolved into the dark. Mob flinched, immediately yanking his foot back. He held his breath and scanned the void, searching for any changes.
Nothing. The darkness remained silent.
Readying himself, he drew a long, shuddering breath and planted both feet firmly on the surface. Another ripple spread outward, brighter this time, accompanied by a soft, resonant sound that reminded Mob of a wind chime. The echo lingered for a moment before fading into silence.
He stared down at his own feet, then lifted his hands before his face. Despite the blackness that swallowed everything, his own form was startlingly vivid. He could see every crinkle and crease in the fabric of his gloves, the stains and scuff marks on his boots, and the almost unnoticeable sway of his dark cloak as it drifted around his shoulders.
He turned his head to look over his shoulder at it. The fabric rippled without any breeze, moving on its own. A soft, iridescent white glow clung to the edges of his cape, tracing his silhouette, and he realized that the same faint luminescence outlined the rest of his body, making him glow.
Looking down at himself once again, he muttered under his breath. "Holy shit...where am I?"
He lifted his gaze to what he assumed was up, though directions felt like a joke in this place. He twisted and turned his body, craning his neck and squinting into the dark to see if anything was there.
"Hello?" he called out, cupping his hands around his mouth.
His voice bounced through the void, reflecting back at him in layered echoes that grew fainter with each repetition. He took a cautious step forward, the soft chime of his foot against the invisible surface punctuating the quiet. He turned his head, scanning around, before calling out again.
"Hello? Anyone hear me?"
Nothing.
Mob took another step forward. Then another. The rhythm of his movements became mechanical—left foot, right foot, the shimmer of white blooming beneath each step before disappearing. He pressed on, the only sounds in the darkness being the rhythmic echo of his steps and the soft shuffle of his clothes against his skin. He continued to call out, his voice growing hoarse.
He paused his trek, a hiss escaping his lips and followed by a line of growls and screeches. He flailed his arms wildly, his face pinched in a scowl as he spun in a circle, addressing the void.
"ANYONE?!" he shouted, the sound exploding outward and coming back at him in overlapping echoes.
His chest heaved, and his hands trembled. He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe—despite not needing to—trying to suppress the rising panic that threatened to swallow him whole.
I can't be alone...there's no way that I'm al—
"Mob?" A voice called from the darkness, cutting through his thoughts.
Mob's head snapped up, his breath caught in his throat. He knew that voice. He'd know it anywhere—in any life or any death.
There's no way that's—
"Twixxel?" Mob called out, his voice cracking as it echoed into the abyss.
"MOB?!" The response came again, closer this time and filled with the same disbelief and desperate hope that burned in Mob's own chest.
And then he saw him.
His other half. His partner in crime. His best friend. His brother.
Twixxel.
He stood there, frozen in the distance, his pure white eyes so wide they pulled strangely at his features. He was dressed exactly as he had been the day he died, not a single drop of blood marring his clothes or wound visible on his skin.
He looked alive.
Yet Mob couldn't care. He couldn't care about the logistics or the questions clawing at the back of his mind. All he could see was that face. Those eyes. That familiar silhouette that had been carved into the very core of his soul.
Hours might have passed, or even days. Time was paused, holding no weight, and yet the two of them stood locked in place, staring endlessly at each other across the void.
"Twixxel?" Mob whispered, the name trembling on his lips.
Years might have passed, or even decades.
Then Mob took the first step.
Then another.
Then another.
He didn't stop when those measured steps turned into a desperate jog. He didn't stop when that jog erupted into a full, reckless sprint. His boots pounded against the floor, the chime of each step getting faster and faster. The bone-deep ache from earlier had slightly settled, but he couldn't care.
Not when his entire world was right in front of him, right within reach.
Twixxel ran too, his arms thrown open wide, his expression crumpling with relief. The distance between them collapsed in seconds, and they finally embraced. The two clung to each other fiercely.
Mob's hand wrapped tightly around Twixxel's waist, his fingers digging into the fabric of his clothes. His other hand was tangled in Twixxel's hair, gripping with a desperate, possessive strength as he pressed his face into the crook of Twixxel's neck. He buried himself there, feeling the impossible warmth of a body he thought he'd never touch again.
Twixxel wrapped both his arms around Mob's neck, his head resting against his shoulder, his breath coming in ragged, shuddering gasps. His tail coiled around Mob's leg, squeezing tight.
They stood there for an eternity, or even a millennium, just holding each other. The void stayed silent, indifferent and vast, but neither of them noticed; neither of them cared. They clung to one another, refusing to loosen their grip even a fraction, until their legs gave out, dragging both of them to their knees.
They sat entangled with one another, with Mob mumbling under his breath frantically. He refused to take a breath he didn't need.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'msorryI'msorrysorrysorrysorry—" He fell into a murmur of apologies, his voice cracking and breaking as the syllables tangled together until they became a desperate plea.
Twixxel gripped him just as tightly, his arms trembling with the effort of holding on. Tears streamed freely down his face as he tried to shush the hybrid. His voice was soft, barely more than a whisper against Mob's hair.
"It's okay, it's okay. I'm here, I've got you."
After a few moments, Mob's apologies finally began to settle. His voice faded into choked, hiccupping sobs as he pressed his forehead against Twixxel's chest, sniffling.
Twixxel moved quickly, his eyes sharp with concern as he grasped Mob tightly by the shoulders. His fingers dug in with a firm, grounding pressure. In return, Mob's hands came up to wrap around Twixxel's wrists, his thumbs resting against the jut of bone there, holding on without squeezing.
"How the ever-loving fuck are you here, Mob?" Twixxel demanded, his voice tight with disbelief and barely contained panic. His eyes narrowed slightly, searching Mob's face.
Mob's gaze darted across Twixxel's features, sadly looking into those white eyes, and his tight expression gradually loosened into something exhausted. When he spoke, his voice was barely more than a whisper.
"I killed myself."
Twixxel's face hardened in an instant. The grip on Mob's shoulders loosened, and his fingers went slack.
"W...what."
"I killed myself with a gun." Mob clarified softly, his eyes glistening with fresh tears that threatened to spill over.
"No, no, no, you're lying."
Twixxel shoved himself back, letting go of Mob as he scrambled to his feet. He stumbled away, his boots scuffing against the floor, sending faint ripples of white light scattering beneath him. He looked down at the hybrid in horror, his hands raised defensively in front of him, palms out and shaking. He clutched his head, fingers twisting and tugging at his hair frantically as his body trembled, shaking his head in denial.
"I'm not lying, Twix." Mob remained seated on his knees, his posture still, while he stared directly at Twixxel. "I shot myself in the chin with a pistol."
"Nonononono..."
"M1911, with a 0.45 ACP bullet-"
"NO!" Twixxel shouted, the sound ripping from his throat.
He stomped his foot against the ground, creating a violent ripple of white light that exploded outward, briefly illuminating the void around them before fading back into darkness. His head snapped toward Mob, his eyes wide and wild as his tail whipped aggressively behind him.
"Nononono, you're not dead, you can't be dead!"
"Twix..."
"You can't be dead, you can't!" His voice broke on the final word, his hands dropping from his hair, only to clench into shaking fists at his sides. "You—you can't be here. You can't be dead. We were supposed to—you were supposed to—"
Mob sat there in the silence, holding back his own tears as his lips pressed into a thin line. He placed his hands in his lap, fisting the fabric of his pants so tightly that his knuckles went ashy. He let his friend continue to shout at him, let the accusations and denials wash over him.
Minutes might have passed, or hours even. Mob simply waited, his gaze fixed solely on Twixxel.
Eventually, Twixxel's voice gave out. His body swayed unsteadily before his knees buckled and he crashed to the ground. He fell onto his knees with a soft thud, fresh tears streaming freely down his cheeks. His head hung low, and his hands fell to rest limply at his sides.
Silence stretched between them for what felt like years.
"It was the only way," Mob said quietly.
Twixxel lifted his head, staring at Mob with confusion.
"Till death do us part, really holding up right now, right?" Mob tried to joke, a watery smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Twixxel stared at him for a long, painful moment. His expression flickered through a dozen of emotions—grief, anger, and disbelief. He let out a shaky breath, and then, without a word, he lurched forward and pulled Mob into another crushing embrace, burying his face in the crook of Mob's neck.
"You're such an idiot," he whispered, his voice muffled. "Such a fucking idiot."
Mob hugged him back, latching onto his clothes with a desperate grip. His fingers twisted into the fabric, bunching it up as if he could fuse himself to Twixxel's very being. His whole body trembled against Twixxel's chest, wracked with silent sobs that spilled out.
"I...couldn't escape him," Mob said, a deep sob tearing through his voice. "I tried—I tried everything—but I—"
Twixxel tilted his head, his brow furrowing with concern as he gently pulled Mob slightly away from him. His white eyes searched Mob's face.
"You saw my book, right?"
"Yeah," Mob said, dropping his gaze and letting his arms fall limply into his lap, fidgeting with his fingers. "And it didn't work."
He looked back up at Twixxel, blinking rapidly to clear the tears from his eyes. His voice dropped to a whisper so quiet that Twixxel had to lean in to catch it.
"Twixxel...I never wanted to die."
Twixxel's eyes softened, wrapping his tail around Mob's arm.
"I-I-I just couldn't have stayed a second longer with him." Mob's voice cracked as he spoke, his hands moving of their own accord to the scarf around his neck. He unwound it slowly, fiddling with it.
"Verity," Mob spat, his grip on the scarf tightened, "he mimicked your voice. Fucker tried to...to comfort me. He used your voice, Twixxel. Your voice. The voice of someone he killed."
"It's okay, Mob," Twixxel said softly.
"I was stuck in a loop," Mob hissed, his voice rising in anger. "With that thing. It had me trapped, Twixxel. I couldn't escape him. He would've followed me—" He choked on the words, his breath hitching. "I wasn't the first, Twixxel. I wasn't. There were—there were so many before us."
"Mob, it's alright—"
"You're not listening!" Mob shouted, his head snapping up to lock eyes with Twixxel, his gaze wild and desperate. "There were hundreds of people, Twixxel. Hundreds. All of them were killed by that stupid fucking piece of shit."
Mob took a breath, holding it for a moment, before letting it out in a slow, unsteady exhale. His shoulders continued to shake as he closed his eyes, squeezing them shut. His jaw tightened; the scarf in his hands had gone still, his fingers loosening their death grip on the fabric.
"I've missed you..." The words trembled on his lips, barely escaping. "So, so much, Twix."
Twixxel's expression softened impossibly further, his white eyes glistening with more tears. They hugged once again, collapsing into each other. Mob buried his face in Twixxel's neck, while Twixxel had one hand cradling the back of Mob's head, and the other pressed flat against his spine. His tail coiled around Mob's waist, pulling him closer.
"Me too, Mob."