Chapter Text
The North was a mess.
What was once a fearsome group lingering in the mountains was now nothing more than a few members haunting an empty house. It was tragic and it was cruel, but it was the reality of many islanders that were forced to fold at the hands of the Federation.
Ash considered himself one of the lucky ones, if only because he could still hold his family in his arms.
“I’m sorry.”
A powerful shudder racked the regime member’s body, bracing an arm against the cold factory’s wall as the voice of his old friend washed over him. He rapidly blinked away tears that wouldn’t form, silently curling in on himself as the world around him became pixels.
Nothing felt real anymore; he didn’t feel real anymore.
Brick turned to pristine white walls; concrete turned to white carpet and gloved hands turned to pixelated flesh. The stench of disinfected spray filled his nose while small, black beady eyes haunted his vision with the matching crooked smile of a bear that knew nothing could harm it.
“Run…just run.”
Ash buckled to his knees, his own body giving out beneath him as if the weight of his guilt alone was forcing him into the ground. As if to atone for the millions of mistakes he made that lead to this fateful moment.
“Juan.” He whispered brokenly into the carpeted floor, his artificial heart beating for someone that was no more.
“Ash, thank you for your help.”
“FUCK!” He screamed into the ground with his voice distorting and breaking into decibels that even he has never heard coming out of his mouth. For this was something more than just mourning, this was anger, this was rage, this was a burning desire to kill all that were involved in the death of the island’s most beloved painter; of his most beloved friend.
But deep within that bloodcurdling scream, there was also a cry for help. A cry for his older siblings to comfort him and a cry for Juan to come back to them. Because despite their bickering, their constant prodding over the other and the small arguments over details; they were friends, companions and somehow that little red bandana-wearing human made Ash fond of him. And he wasn’t fond of most people, despite what his family might otherwise suggest.
“Uh, what are you doing here?”
Ash jolted out of his self-lamenting, sucking in a sharp breath as his eyes met two very familiar emeralds staring right back at him. The two looked at one another in silence, confusion meeting terror as Ash scrambled back on his hands and knees against the room’s wall.
His chest rose and fell with every quick intake of air, forcing his body to calm down while the pixelated white room faded away from his mind.
“I don’t…” He struggled to form a coherent thought, words escaping him as Foolish regarded him silently.
“What are you doing here?”
The leader weakly deflected, bringing his shaking knees to his chest in order to get his body under control. He could barely even feel his own fingertips, curling them into the palm of his hands while they continued to phase through the material of his gloves.
“Well,” Foolish stretched out casually, “I’m here to change out some bedsheets, y’know? Doing some house chores while everyone’s ‘out’.”
The hybrid chuckled in the quiet room, and it was only then, did Ash finally realise where his emotional outburst landed him. His gaze swept the room in haunting familiarity as he took in the golden furniture, the red carpet and the large portrait painting of the man that Ash missed the most.
“Yup, just doing my duties.” Foolish carried on with false cheer in his voice, probably the most subdued Ash has ever seen the totem. His clawed hands were gently making the king-sized bed by patting down the large red duvet that adorned it. Ash watched in silent sorrow as the giant being crouched multiple times to pick up the many discarded pillows on the floor.
“He always moved in his sleep.”
Foolish placed each one against the headrest, squeezing them lightly between his claws before brushing over them.
“We’d always tease him about it, but he said the pillows protected him.”
Their eyes met once again.
“And who are we to judge?”
Something squeezed inside of Ash, “Foolish…”
“You can help if you want!” The totem suddenly spoke up, gesturing to the chests behind him, “There’s some of his plushies in there that need to come out.”
And Ash found himself standing, pulled by an unknown strength as he silently and robotically manoeuvred over to where Foolish pointed. His hands were no longer shaking or struggling to be corporal, his breaths were even and his head was somewhat clearer.
“And I hope you never carry any sense of guilt within you.”
He traced the top of the chosen wooden chest with a small smile tugging at his lips as his fingers danced across the many carvings left by the artist. There were small animals, silly faces and the occasional tic-tac-toe game that were most likely carved by the other members of The North. Ash could almost hear Juan’s scolding tone followed closely by his giggles when he undoubtably joined their game. He could even see the tally marks of the member’s initials that kept track of the winning score. Unsurprisingly, Juan lost quite a few times.
A quiet chuckle was pulled out of him unwillingly, caught off guard by the warmth that suddenly encompassed his heart. Already feeling nostalgic of all the little gimmicks and antics that Juan used to drag others into, himself included. He was but a beacon and he drew in all walks of life that were all too happy to be consumed by his pure light.
After tracing the last remnants of the artist, Ashswag finally lifted the lid of the chest to reveal the small collection of plushies that Juan hid away.
There was a green frog, a cat, an otter, a brown bear and the most surprising of them all, a Superman plushie. He cradled them all close to his chest like the precious treasures that they were and returned to stand alongside the now silent totem.
Foolish gave him a small smile, but Ash saw the same emptiness in his gem-like eyes that the leader felt within himself too. The heaviness that neither one of them wanted to address yet still crushing them both either way.
“He liked having Superman in the middle.”
“To protect them?” Ash found himself asking, looking down at the other plushies as he spoke.
“Yeah.”
The regime member shuffled closer to the bed, moving around Foolish while he leaned over and delicately placed each plushie in the centre of the pillows. He made sure they were all leaning on Superman and that the hero’s arms were wrapped around the small critters too. And to make sure they remained safe, Ash tucked them into the blanket as well.
When he pulled back from his task, a faint whiff of cologne hit his senses and all too soon Ash found himself crumbling at the seams.
“‘Changing bedsheets’, you said?” His voice but a whisper.
“Yup.” Foolish moved closer.
Ash swallowed thickly as he slammed his eyes shut against the torrent of whirling emotions that threatened to overtake him. He couldn’t move, couldn’t risk opening his eyes to a sight that he knew would have him spiralling all over again.
But he felt it. Oh, he felt it.
He felt Foolish’s presence press against him, a brief touch of fur against velvet before the figure leaned over and all Ash could hear was the quiet inhale from the totem beside him.
“Still smells just like him.”
“-I have to go!”
Desperate and barely holding on, purple particles rapidly swirled around the distraught leader as the grief became too much to bear. He thought of safety, of comfort and of isolation far away from prying eyes. He just needed to pull himself together, to be strong and to be alone.
“It’s time to take care of your own, as only you can.”
And as Ash fell to his knees in a grassy field of flowers, surrounded by the sounds of rushing water and the buzzing of insect life. He couldn’t help but tuck his face into the collar of his shirt, quietly inhaling the smell of old wood and familiar cologne that whisked his mind away into a world that was much brighter than his own.
Silently mourning for the island’s beacon.