Archive of Our Own

Ze wasn't present for dinner once again.

Moe and Regect sat adjacent to one another on the couch, having the sound of the movie playing on the television fill the familiar silence. On the table sat three plates: one empty, licked clean to the bone, one with bits and crumbs, and one left untouched. Cold. Unforgiving.

Here’s the thing. Ze was a strong man. He’d pick himself up, no matter the circumstance, never letting himself shatter beneath whatever was forced upon him. What’s scary wasn’t that, (hell, that was maybe even considerably the better part), it would instead be the middle bit. The time in-between where Moe and Regect were left with solemn silence, only knowing that Ze was somewhere, alone, unwilling, and most importantly, lapsing.

Yeah, Ze would eventually come out of his room, and he’d be fine, and they’d have to pretend nothing had happened, and it’d be okay. But it was still worrying. How Ze never told anyone, not even Moe, what was going on. Whatever he did in those times spent in isolation.

The two were forced to proceed with the day.

Regect lazily lolled his eyes back towards the screen, trying to refocus the last bit of his attention that was still willing to cooperate. Then, when Regect felt as if he’d finally gotten back into the plot of the movie, a voice interrupted.

“Do you think he’s gonna come?” Moe honked, eyes drooping in a way that was difficult to decipher.

Regect and Moe both knew the answer. They didn't want to believe it.

“I think – I don't – Maybe he will,” the entity replied, eyes no longer on the television screen.

Then, when Regect turned his attention towards Moe, he’d caught her right before she could turn her face away. An expression so solemn, that Regect could only wish it was an illusion. He resolved to mindlessly fidgeting with his golden chain, trying hard to wipe the worries off his mind.

Just when the entity thought the conversation would end here, like it always did, Moe started honking again. “When do you think he’ll”, then came a slight pause, “come back to us?”

Moe sounded broken. Regect wanted to break.

“..I don't know, Moe. He’s just been so – distant, I guess. It’s hard to tell.”

After a moment of no movement or sounds, she stood up. “I think we should clean up.”

Regect didn't deny. Then, the routine played again like it did every night, a video game left on repeat. Put the dishes in the dishwasher and put the untouched food in the fridge, in hopes that maybe, just maybe, Ze would wake up and eat it in the morning.

It wasn't late after they’ve gone to bed that Regect heard a doorknob click. Of course, he was in his own room, minding his own business, but it was those sounds — awfully quiet yet you’re sure it was there. It sounded uncertain, almost accidental in a way. Just when he began to wonder just who possibly could be awake at such a late hour, his mind reeled and reeled until it eventually landed on the only possible answer: Ze.

But Regect didn't dare make a move yet. He only silently tip-toed towards his door, straining his hearing in a pitiful attempt to decipher any more noise coming from outside. 3 minutes passed. Nothing was heard after the soft clicking of the doorknob: only the sound of wind rushing against the walls filled the silence.

Regect swallowed hard. He had a decision to make now, one where he longingly wished to have an opportunity for, yet, one where if he messed up, all progress could be lost. But he knew Ze, knew his tendencies and strengths and weaknesses; he knew what to avoid and what to provoke.

Ze barely reacted when Regect approached him from behind. They both stood in the middle of the kitchen, head straight and arms limp on either side of their bodies. Ze turned his head back towards the entity, who stood just a metre away. His expression was difficult to read: content, yet fuzzy in a way where the darkness seemed to seep into his skin.

Then, slowly, Ze’s mouth remembered how to speak. “You’re here, ‘cause…” his thick eyebrows furrowed, not mad, not agitated, but confused. He spoke as if he was daring him to answer.

Regect remained. “‘Cause I can. Now, why are you here, like – jus’ standing by yourself in the kitchen?” He crossed his arms, putting on a light hearted smirk despite the situation.

Ze didn't catch it. His face stayed an unnameable expression, eyes laying low like it meant something.

(Odd for Ze, that is — because to say the least, he always had been expressive of his emotions.)

“I’m, I jus’ – no, I..” then, like a click went off in his head, he looked up and met Regect in the eye. His face loosened, and his expression returned to his usual, aggravating, face. “..what, can’t I get thirsty at night anymore?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure,” he mumbled. Ze turned around back towards the cabinets now. He reached for the snack cabinet, then the countertop, then the fridge. It was almost like he was just stalling around for time.

“Dinner is on the top right,” Regect blurted out. The man didn't move for a second, only letting the dim fridge light softly illuminate his surroundings. He held the plate in his fingers a second later.

The plate was freezing. It bit his fingertips, and Ze almost winced against his own will. But then… the cold didn't feel bad. At all. It almost felt.. refreshing?

The fridge door shut with a soft thud, and Ze muttered a small thank you under his breath. The dish clanked against the counter top, before the creaking sound of the microwave door opening came.

“Go back to bed,” said Ze just barely above a whisper. He didn’t wait for a response before switching the switches in the microwave on. He was expecting maybe a retaliation, or a snort, yet.. neither came. After counting just five more seconds in his head, he spun his head around.

And there Regect was, staring at Ze intently with his eye(s) slightly narrowed, (they weren’t hard to see at all, as they’re very, very yellow.)

Ze ignored him.

The microwave was humming, a low, muted sound indicating that the food was heating up. A soft warm-toned glow illuminated from within.

And Ze, he looked content. He wasn't exactly happy, no, but not.. drained.

Subconsciously, he leaned in against the counter beside the microwave, and it almost felt like he was losing control of his weight — the way he was swaying, even if it was just a little. And when the food finally heated up and he brought it over to the table, he sat down.

Ze’s arms felt weak. His hands hovered just over the fork, and it stayed for a moment. A moment too long. It could've been the drowsiness hitting him, making him sway, involuntarily forget to move. But it wasn't. It was Regect.

With a bang, his hand fell to the table. (Only as he couldn't quite control his own weight — if he could, then he would've been more conscious of his actions.)

“...Dude,” he began, “are you just gonna watch me eat, like… I-I don’t know – some freak?” His voice wasn't cheery nor teasing; instead, he sounded tired, with a knot tied deep inside his throat.

Regect continued watching for a few seconds before proceeding. Ze wasn't even looking at his food anymore.

“Can I sit with you?”

Ze was caught off guard. “...What?”

Regect felt pity for the man. It was the slight vulnerability in his voice, the small, small sound of hoarseness. Regardless, he persevered. “I won’t say anything. Or do stupid shit.”

That made Ze think. He knew Regect wasn't that stupid, that he wouldn't lie at a time like this. And.. besides, some company would be decent. So he considered, and decided: just for a bit, then he’ll leave in a few minutes.

It took Ze a few moments longer to agree, reluctantly.

“I can tell you made this. Rice is slightly overcooked. Vegetables are a little too salty and undercooked like you like them.” The man mindlessly commented. He poked around the plate with his fork.

That was the most he’d said all day.

Regect swallowed hard, “I knew you liked my cooking. Somewhere deep, deep inside your heart.”

Ze gave a half snort. “Yeah, as if. In your dreams, man.”

Silence overtook the room. Regect could hear the small sound of Ze’s eating and breathing, but the most prominent was the soft, low humming exerted by the electronics running within the house.

It would've been a lie if Regect said he didn't want the man to tell him more. But Ze didn't want to tell Regect, and he was okay with that.

The entity looked out the kitchen window and let the strong wind occupy the silence.

It was fine. He talked to Ze, and that was okay.

Tomorrow will be fine.

Maybe he’d spoken too soon.

The next day, like they were stuck in a never ending cycle in a video game, Moe and Regect waited by the kitchen once again. Same couch, different show. Some stupid movie Regect suggested to keep the spirits high, and just why would Moe decline?

Steak and potatoes were set aside. Left on the table, left to get cold. Moe had started thinking about just putting it in the fridge earlier on rather than wait until it gets cold and soggy, not even edible anymore. But they wanted to believe. They wanted to continue holding onto shattered glass, that just maybe, it’ll repair itself.

Regect snorted. “Heh, Moe, that guy’s kinda stupid. He should've just ran.” He pointed towards the TV.

Sparing just a single glance away from the staircase, the clown smiled at the screen. She honked twice, not quite… upset, more uncertain. The entity understood what she meant.

He didn't have to say anything, because afterall, they both knew what one another was thinking. It was Ze.

Locked away in his room again, yet neither were brave again to knock or stand close to listen. Not that they didn't want to. It was Ze that didn't want them to. And they, as much as they wanted to push it, just couldn't.

It began to feel like every evening passed like this. The first time it’d happened, they thought it was a one off. The second time it did, they suggested maybe he just needed time. When the third time came around, there was no doubt that something was definitely up. Something that both were skeptical they couldn't quite do anything about.

But then, again: Ze was a strong person. He could push through, if he just pushed himself enough. However, one worry stood in their minds, if Ze pushed himself too hard, instead of going forwards, he could fall back down. It’s not that they wanted to doubt his resilience — that was never the intention. But the concern never left, no matter how much reassurance given.

Not long after, the television was flicked off along with the lights.

Moe glanced Regect a knowing look, before heading off into her respective room for the night. The entity stayed on the couch. Regect didn't need to sleep — he was an entity, afterall. Sleep, for him, was more of a pass time — not quite serving any purpose relating to energy or so. That didn't mean Regect hated sleeping. He still resorted to it at dire times, like such, where he didn't know what to do.

I mean, what else was he meant to do now? He chose to wait, and with it being approximately one in the morning now, he couldn't back out. Not just yet.

The dark was soothing. With the atmosphere pitch black and the noise silenced, Regect saw no reason to not succumb to sleep. So, he let himself close his eyes, and… sleep. Sleeping for the entity was odd. He didn't feel the surge of drowsiness, nor the comforting feeling of regeneration. Just a blank canvas of black, a domain clear of interactions and thoughts.

Another thing to consider was his consciousness. Since he wasn't technically asleep, and so he wasn’t quite gaining or losing energy, it also meant that he wasn't fully unconscious, making a singular noise or movement possibly trigger his senses. (Being an entity, Regect carried supernatural factors. More alerted senses were one of many.)

So when he felt something’s presence before himself, he entered a newfound state fight or flight. A surge of now awakened sentience rushed in his body, and he blinked his eyes open.

Absentmindedly, his two claws rushed to grab the being’s neck, pulling the weight up.

But it wasn't long lasted. When he fully registered the situation and took in his surroundings, the familiar feeling of rough skin against his own, his claws loosened and his hands fell limp on his sides.

Regect tensed up, before sparing a pitiful glance at the man, now crouched on the floor. It didn't take him long to regain his composure and stand up.

Ze’s eyes were unreadable in the dark.

Regect scrambled towards the man. “Fuck– Holy shit, Ze, are you okay?”

Ze allowed Regect to touch his neck, though it was reddened by this exact touch. He glanced towards the side, avoiding Regect’s gaze. “

Jeez— fuck – what was that for?..” he coughed.

The entity backed up. “I’m sorry, dude. I thought – I didn't realise that – I meant, I didn't know it was you. I thought someone broke in.” His hands were now practically glued to his side. And shame, something rarely felt by Regect, now washed over him.

But Ze lacked frustration. He only continued to look to the side, eyes blank with something unreadable. Then, quieter than before, he spoke: “I know, don't worry.”

Regect didn't say anything after this. He stood beside the couch, watching Ze’s movements instead. How he took smaller steps, and whether it was to reduce movement noise or otherwise, was unknown.

Regect knew his presence could easily be unwanted, having already fucked up so early early into the night. He didn't dare move.

Ze, he moved almost like a zombie. Sluggish, slow, unsteady. Holding onto the countertops for support, like his balance was long gone. It was already weird, hearing Ze speak to Regect like he was a human deserving of respect. No teases, no threats, no banter. Just the raw, true Ze. Not the facade he wore for strength or bravery. And now, his behaviour only continued to concern Regect.

Then, for a moment, he just stood there. Static. Still. Head drooping like someone placed a 10kg rock on his head. Regect almost wanted to rush over, help him, ask him what's wrong.

Keyword: almost.

He didn't. He didn't dare to push the borderline between waiting to know more and needing to know more. But Ze returned, like he always did. He moved his hand from against the countertop to his side now, head perked back up, eyes glancing around unknowingly.

“..Dinner’s on the top shelf in the fridge,” Regect stated.

Ze once again mumbled a small thanks beneath his breath, and that was enough for Regect.

The next moments came nearly like a blur. The loud bang of the microwave door shutting, the low hum of the microwave, the on and off sighting of Ze losing balance.

Regect let himself stay silent, like how it would probably be for the whole night. Watching silently from the couch in the living room, his eyes scanned Ze’s movements — searching for just something to work off of.

He noticed the slight twitch of his mouth before he heard his voice.

“Look… Regect, I’m sorry.” Ze turned away, attention facing the microwave instead. His voice sounded fine, it would've, if Regect didn't hear every subtle tremble and shake in it.

His hands were now bunched together. “For like, not hanging out with you and Moe.”

The next words came out like it pained him to speak. “It’s just.. I guess — I’ve just been..” he mumbled, barely audible, “I don’t know, I mean, like… I–”

Regect spoke before he could stop himself. “No worries, man. ..You haven't missed out on much.”

Ze paused. Just stared at the ground like it personally offended him. Then, “yeah. I’ve just.. been tired, that's all. Sleeping a bit more.”

Lies, Regect wanted to yell.

He instead continued paying attention to Ze, now poking about on the plate, flaming hot, fresh from the microwave. His eyes weren't fully concentrated, like part of it was just wandering about in his head.

Ze let every sharp bit of the fork stab through the softly cooked potatoes, feeling it sink and crush, then removed the fork, only to repeat it all again. It sparked Regect’s interest.

Then, “you aren't really hungry, are you?” Regect asked.

Ze, once again paused. He let the fork just hover over the plate. “..No,” he admitted. “I jus’ thought I should, well, still eat.”

The entity had no objections. He nodded, whether it was seen or not goes unknown. Regect didn't ask further, and instead looked away.

The rest of the night passed with a blur. Ze eventually ate some food, just enough not to raise suspicion, before washing the plate and putting it away. He left the kitchen with it sparkly clean, like not a single molecule had been moved. And then silently, his already quiet footsteps faded, and faded, before the soft click of the doorknob was heard.

Regect sucked it up. The fact that Ze was unwilling to share, that he would rather lie than tell him the truth. The fact it wasn't Ze’s fault either — that maybe Ze didn't feel safe enough to tell him.

And that’s fine.

The day started without Ze.

When Regect woke up and walked downstairs, he made some breakfast and sat down. He noticed something odd. No, not odd. Something.. concerning. There sat Moe, curled up comfortably on the couch, looking out the window. It was grey outside — the type of grey you achieve when the clouds cover all the sunlight, then rain decides to fall. The small noise which ticked against the window was.. tolerable.

But that wasn’t the point. It was Moe. She’d usually say hello to Regect, be cooking something, be dancing around, singing something. No, there was none of that. Just silence.

Regect had already lost someone before, long ago. He was actively losing Ze. He couldn't lose Moe aswell.

He started carefully. “Moe,” he called. The clown turned over with a content look on her face. “What’s wrong?”

She stared at Regect with something uncertain plastered beneath her eyes. Something rather distasteful. She zoned out for a moment too long before she replied.

“Ze left,” she stated. “Not long ago — maybe around 30 minutes prior.”

Regect was dumbfounded. No, no, no no, it really can't be happening now– “Did he say anything? Did he – uh – leave anything? Tell you where he went?” –not the hole, please, anywhere but the hole. Regect’s heart, or what would be his heart, was beating too fast now. Far too quick to be normal.

Moe hesitated. “Refused to tell me where he was going. Just.. said sorry to me, and told me to not worry.” She mimes a laugh, “how are we meant to not worry when he’s saying things like that?.”

Her honks remained less cheery, and more low. It was fairly obvious that this was taking a toll on Moe, and yet, she still tried to remain lighthearted, tried to keep the spirits up.

Regect needed that.

The entity forced a laugh. “Yeah, it’s kinda stupid. This dickhead disappears from the house and tells us not to worry. Hah – that’s fuckin’ stupid!” He quieted down. “…Not to worry, my ass.”

Moe smiled. And that’s all he needed for now.

The day was surprisingly okay.

To pass time (and not to worry about Ze that much), Moe and Regect decided to start building an underground bunker. Moe joked about how they’re apparently gonna need this for a Wakafante takeover in the future. Or maybe it wasn't a joke — as Moe had said it in the most serious, cautious, tone that Regect had ever heard her speak in.

It started with them just punching a hole in the ground. Then they dug, and dug, and dug more, for maybe a continuous hour straight — before Regect remembered his supernatural powers. So, he whipped out a code, not knowing it was.. typed out wrongly. Their two-story bunker was now approximately 50 blocks deep.

Even with that, they worked around it. Moe, bless her soul, came up with a genius tech: with some newfound magic she possessed, or maybe it wasn't magic and just something her clown-gang taught her, she managed to come up with a floating floor, which was sturdy enough to hold furnishing on it.

But, by that point, the two had already spent way to long mending their mistakes. The sun had set, and they’ve grown tired. They called it off to finish it another day.

Then.. again. The two sat on the couch, opposite ends. Television playing some stupid, stupid show that neither of them had enough energy to pay attention to.

Moe almost found the chattering aggravating, and with her being a circus performer — it said everything about their moods.

Although they were exhausted and wanted nothing more than to sleep, a plate of fresh food still never failed to appear on the table.

This time, it was some type of pasta cooked with sauce that Regect dug out from their pantry. It was, surprisingly, good. And somewhat presentable. Moe and Regect both deemed it satisfying enough for their empty stomachs.

“I think I’m gonna have an early night tonight.” Moe honked, clear yet undeniably tired. She needed it. Regect could tell as her eyelids were boldly drooping each second that passed.

He nodded, before switching off the remote control.

“I think I'll stay here for another 5 minutes or so. Good work today, goodnight and sleep well, Moe.” He smiled properly the first time today, and something warm in him sparked.

Moe honked back, something bright, before disappearing upstairs. Regect followed not long after, intentionally leaving the lights downstairs on.

What Regect thought was an intruder startled him. A loud bang of their front door, obviously opened with unnecessary force and carelessness.

But what he saw before him wasn't an intruder nor a threat.

Instead, it was Ze.

Hunched over against the open door with his hands in front of his face, body almost looking small with the way his shoulder leaned against the surface so heavily. Facing downwards, Ze was silent. Too silent and too still for someone who just nearly broke their door.

Regect crept down the staircase further. He stopped momentarily on the final step, hesitating, before approaching the man against the door.

He didn't need to step very far, as in the next moment, the man stumbled towards Regect in a clumsy, out-of-control, way.

Regect swallowed hard.

Ze was now facing towards him.

He looked.. almost surprised. Like he wasn't the one who lunged towards the entity, aswell as the one who got home at 2 in the morning with a loud slam.

Something was off, undoubtedly.

Regect was just about to head towards the front door, shut it to prevent the rain from seeping in, when a hand caught his wrist first.

The hand was, to say the least, warm. Very warm. Almost feverishly warm.

Regect looked back. He was faced with Ze. Ze, who couldn't look him straight in the eye, Ze, who was breathing unsteadily, and Ze, who was redder than he should be.

A drunk Ze, he was faced with.

Regect stopped, and the hold softened on his wrist.

“R’gct.. don’t—” the smaller hand pulls on his wrist. “Don't go. Please.”

Ze’s voice was so feeble, weak, and so, so small, it made Regect reconsider his choices. He stayed, just for a moment longer, letting Ze steady himself before shutting the front door with commands.

In the next second, Regect opened his arms as a small invitation for Ze. Small enough for him to not be startled, but wide enough for him to notice. And when he did, Ze melted into the entity’s embrace.

The first thing Regect noticed was how warm he was — feverish, burning, hot in the way drunken people were. The second thing was the tremble he had. It wasn't prominant, no, not quite, but it was there. And that told Regect what he had to know.

And Regect didn't have anything else to do other than hug back. He hugged him, arms wrapped around awkwardly, and fully felt the uneven rise and fall of his chest.

Neither let go for a while.

Regect sat on the end of Ze’s bed, his legs bending awkwardly — Ze’s bedframe was always awfully low for some reason.He stared at the wall blankly, taking in the dark atmosphere of the room, while he waited for Ze to return from the bathroom.

When Ze returned, he looked slightly more put together. His fringe was swiped up somewhere above his face, which was dripping with water. His eyes were wide, the most expressive Regect had seen him the whole week.

He swiped a hand through his already up fringe again, hair slick with water, and this was when Regect realised he had also taken his bandana off.

This was.. a new look on Ze.

“Do you feel better, man?” The entity nervously shifted in his spot.

Ze slung his jacket off, exposing his skin as he had a simple black top on. The jacket hit the floor loudly.

The man was still for a few moments after this, before suddenly coughing. He hunched over, the cough seemingly violent enough for Regect’s concern to rise.

“D-Dude, stay here, yeah? I’ll just – I’ll get you some water. Don’t move.”

Once again, Regect was stopped. A familiar grip on his arm, this time just higher than his wrist, a little rougher, like there wasn't time to calculate.

Ze’s hair tickled Regect’s neck as he rested his temple against his shoulder. Regect was completely still. Tensed, even. He counted for five seconds before letting out a breath.

Next thing, Regect felt something hot, nearly burning his skin. The realisation came way slower, that it was Ze.

He turned over carefully to hold the man in his arms. The tears came steadily, burning his shoulder. But even that went unnoticed, when the only thing that was burning was his mind — Ze in his arms, after coming home late, drunk, and clingier than he had ever been.

Despite Ze desperately needing that water, as Regect thought, he still stopped what he was doing. Perhaps it was the soft, persistent yet painful tremble that overtook the man’s body, or maybe it was instead the quiet, almost non-existent sound of his hics.

“Man.. Just – What is your problem?..” Regect said as he gently wrestled Ze onto the side of the bed. His words lacked bite.

When they were both sat, he continued. “Okay, okay, there. We’re still getting you that water later, okay?”

Regect rhythmically patted Ze’s back until the crying seemed to have subsided. He reverted to gently caressing the other’s shoulder with his thumb, arm wrapped around.

After a few moments of silence, Ze started mumbling something completely incomprehensible. It was maybe about the fifth word, where it had started making sense.

“Y’re still there – ‘gct, aren't you?..” He paused for a second, body seemingly going still with the silence. “Don't leave me, m‘kay?..”

“...I won’t.”

To say the least, Regect was dumbfounded. Ze was never the type to drink, let alone let himself get drunk. And now, he is drunk, and clingier than ever. Regect, however, wasn't complaining. He could get used to it.

But then, what exactly was the problem causing Ze to do all these things? First, it was the delayed responses. Accidental zone-outs, clumsier movements. Then it was the times where he wouldn't even come out of his room.

And now, he’d drink until he was out. Regect didn't even know where he was finding a bar from.

The weight lifted off Regect’s at an instance. A voice started shortly after.

“I’m s’rry,” Ze started, words borderline inaudible, “I — I think I’m probably acting so’.. weird, right now.”

Regect’s thumb didn't pause once. “..You are, asshat.”

“I t– I think, I’ve uh. Been – very stupid. This past week.” His words were surprisingly clear, but the meaning wasn't. “Uh –‘t’s jus’ been, I dunno, hard.”

Albeit curious, the entity didn't look over or move. Only patiently waited for the man to continue.

“Y — Y’know, seeing eyes. Shit drives you craaaazy, y’know?” Ze huffed a little half-laugh.

Eyes, Regect swallowed. He didn't like the sound of it when he knew what that could potentially mean, but that was something to ask a more sober Ze.

Ze twitched a little under his touch. Regect paused. “And, uh. I guess, depression hasn't been, well, that fun,” he laughed humorlessly. “Well – no shit.”

Regect allowed the silence. And when his arm slipped off Ze’s shoulder, he finally spoke: “yeah?”

The man didn't answer. He was now fast asleep, still sitting up beside Regect.

The following morning, when Ze arrived downstairs, his hair borderline wet from what they assumed was a shower, Moe and Regect were already sitting at the dining table.

The two traced every move he made with precision. Moe’s eyebrows were furrowed with concentration. Regect was almost completely still. Ze noticed.

“O—Okay. Chill on me, guys. What’s the problem?”

The two batted an eyebrow at eachother. Moe gestured towards the chair, already pushed out slightly in an inviting manner. With no other choice and the tension in the atmosphere seemingly thick, Ze obliged.

“So,” Moe started, her honking serious and upset in a way it made Ze undoubtedly concerned. Well, concerned about what she was going to say against him. “Where were you last night, Ze?”

Ze felt his skin go hot. He held his hands in fists tightly, nails digging into his palm. “Uh, last.. night?”

Regect nodded. “Yep, man. Last night.”

Looking at his friends’ concerned faces, he felt a knot tie itself inside his throat. It was dry. He shuffled in his seat, and put his eyes on the plate of food before him.

“Uhm.” He scanned between the two expressions again before looking back down. “I – I was.. out?..”

“No shit, Sherlock!” Regect almost wanted to laugh. “Out, where?”

With his face getting impossibly hotter, he almost felt like crying. He didn't even completely know where he went. He just knew he left the house, walked around town, and.. got.. drunk?

Ohh.

“I – I was, uhm, out– No, well yeah, uhm–” He stopped himself before continuing. “Fuck, I mean – why are you two so interested in where I went anyway?..”

It’s a one-sided argument that he lost and he knew.

Moe sighed; she didn't push further. Moe looked at Ze, who was already looking at her. She smiled, a true one, before honking. “Let’s dig in. It’s getting cold.”

Breakfast went past somewhat pleasantly. Despite the awkward silence after Ze’s retaliation, the two seemed to brush it off momentarily. They discussed things as a three, like they’d usually do, yet Ze couldn't let the weight in his chest off.

After putting his plate in the sink, Ze left the kitchen. Regect wanted to interfere but as he was already reaching for the stairwell, it was rendered useless. The conversation would have to wait.

Regect did tell Moe what happened the night before. Not in detail, only the jist of it. Although he wanted to do so, he felt.. guilty, telling someone else what he said in such a vulnerable state.

So when Moe announced her departure to the shops with her clown-gang, she told Regect two things.

One, loud, clarifying honk. “One,” she stated. “Please, try and squeeze something out of Ze. Please. Make sure he’s okay.”

She held two fingers up in a peace sign. “Second, I'll be back around three-o’clock.” She then smiled, before waving her hand as goodbye. Regect smiled back, and waved goodbye back. The front door shut with a slam.

With Moe’s words in mind and his own investigation going on, Regect had a goal to achieve today.

Waiting in his room, Regect waited until he heard the click of a doorknob. Then he heard footsteps going down the stairs, until it reached the kitchen.

Regect was counting in his… head, 30.. 31, 32, 33, 34.. until the footsteps eventually drifted back to the staircase. He tried to time it, so when he left his room, he’d meet Ze at the hallway and strike up a conversation.

That’d work.

Well, Regect thought it would. It instead resulted in him getting the door slammed in his face.

..Okay, now what.

He’d have to knock, right?

Regect’s palms were all sweaty at this point, and he didn't even know if he had sweat glands. If he was going to knock anyway.. might aswell do it now. Even if it gets him beat.

Knock knock.

The door surprisingly swung open. Inside, stood a tired Ze, his left arm fiddling with his eyebrow piercing whilst his right arm was limp on his side.

He looked drained, to say the least. Hair messily swept to one side, his bandana somehow staying on, and his black roots sticking out. His right hand fell after a short moment.

“So,” Ze questioned. “Wanna explain why you’re here?”

Regect tried to find his words. “Uh–Uhm, I — Can I come in?” Fuck, wrong question. “I mean, can we talk?– No, I– FUCK!”

The entity took a deep breath. “Can I,” he exhaled, “-talk to you?”

Ze stared straight through the entity. He wasn't even trying to hide his exhaustion anymore. Slowly, he turned around towards his room. Piles of clothes stacking up, things scattered everywhere. He turned back.

“You,” he pointed to Regect, “want to come in,” he then pointed towards his room, reinstating.

“I do.”

The man stared at Regect with a look so, so upsetting that Regect almost wanted to look away.

“Okay. We can talk.”

Ze was now fidgeting with his jacket sleeve cuff. His hands were always restless, a thing he did when he was nervous. He sat on the side of his bed, and Regect sat just on the edge of it.

“Okay, dude. Can you just.. get to the point of it?” Ze’s voice rose, a slight tremble following.

Regect stayed silent for a moment. “..Do you, uh, recall last night?”

The man stared straight down. “A little, not – not a lot, no.”

“Tell me what you remember.”

Ze didn't know why he complied, but he did. Maybe he saw no harm in doing so. “I.. got home, and – you, you were there. I, uh, went to my room. I think you stayed.. with me, for a while.” He spoke like it pained him to remember.

Regect hummed in acknowledgment. “Nothing else?..”

“We spoke,” he mumbled, now barely audible. “I don't know what about.”

“That’s it?”

“Can you tell me what I said?”

“That's not important.”

Ze wanted to further interrogate. He didn't have the energy to. He instead rose a sleeve up to his face, before turning the opposite way of Regect.

The silence was deafening. He wanted to Regect to speak, say something, tell him what he wants to hear. Neither of that happens, and Ze realises that Regect was waiting for him to speak.

He didn't want to speak, not now, not like this.

Regect must’ve noticed, because the next second–

“Are you alright, man?..”

Ze didn't bother to answer. He could feel his tears burn his face in a steady, thin trickle.

A sharp claw rested on his shoulder. It seemed unsure, almost afraid, and Ze tensed up with the touch.

Ze had a weakness he didn't like to mention. It never came on show, as it never really had the right circumstance to display. But now, there was.

He cried easily. And now, silently, like if a singular noise slipped, everything would be over. In this state, he was already vulnerable, weak, and with Regect’s hand on his shoulder — it was progressively getting harder to stop his tears.

Then, a voice. Too gentle to ignore. “Come here, dude. Don’t make this weird.”

Regect wrapped Ze in a tight embrace, and let the man bury his face into his shoulder. It’s not like this had never happened before — in fact, it had happened yesterday. But this time, Ze was sober, and that was different.

“Look, it’s.. pretty obvious, that something’s on your mind. Okay? And whatever it is.. Tell us. Me and Moe. If it’s not gonna magically get better, then.. it’s okay to let it out. Even if you feel like it isn't.”

The two were now sitting face to face on Ze’s bed. Regect had his legs crossed, hands piling at the space between whilst Ze sat with his legs on the floor, torso bent slightly towards the other.

A pause, a long, deafening one.

Then..

“I don’t like feeling weak.”

Regect exhaled. “No one does.”

“But I can't help but feel — so weak, when– when I can't even talk to you guys properly. And it’s.. I don't know,” he scoffed, “hard, to talk to you guys when there’s fuckin’.. eyes.. following me around.”

Ze turned away from Regect. “It always knows where I am, and I’m if im just going to.. fuck everything up, then, what's the point?”

A long pause followed, before Ze continued.

“I’m meant to be protecting you and Moe. I can't even do that to myself.”

Regect couldn't help but frown. “Dude, are you fucking joking? You? Weak? Ze, I don't know what to tell you, but I can reassure—”

“—I know you saw how I was.” Ze's voice was louder now, more broken, almost frustrated. “Barely alive, climbing out that ditch. Regect, you don't fuckin’ understand. I let a fake Moe, a fake you, manipulate me. “

His tail twitching, the entity fell silent. Their conversation was starting to seem more, and more like their usual arguments, but on a larger scale. Regect needed calm down.

“Look,” Regect started. “I understand where you’re coming from.” His voice was gentle in a way that made Ze want to cry rather than agitate him. “It’s— completely up to you, if you choose to listen at all, but in no world are you weak. Ze, you’ve.. survived being completely stranded in a hole. You survived that. Not many people do, y’know.”

“-And it’s just that Moe’s been worried. ..I have too.”

Ze removed his hands from his face. They were wet and slick with tears, yet he didn't register it.

He turned to look at Regect with a look on his face, red and one so awfully upsetting.

“You’re worried. About me.” Ze repeated.

“Yes, dipshit. I am.”

Ze looked away, back to the wall. He only stared at it for a moment, wiping his face with his hands before he spoke again.

“You might not see it. Well– I guess I do suck at showing it. But I– we care, Ze. We care so much. Hell, even maybe too much. Who knows what on earth you’re doing up in your room?”

“...I try to sleep. Or something like that. Kinda.” His voice was hoarse in the way you would definitely know if he’d been crying.

“Dude, you’re actually not getting rid of us anytime soon. Eyes and shit? Just tell me where. We can deal with it.”

Ze had doubts, but ultimately decided to swallow it away. Now wasn't the time for that. He only needed to concentrate and listen to his friend, and probably calm his heartrate down.

A deep breath in, and one out. He shuffled in his spot.

“Yeah,” he exhaled. “Uhm. Thank you. I guess you really aren't as shitty as you usually are.”

He could tell Regect sat just a little closer. Maybe it was the soft smell of rain which told him. He didn't move or budge, and let Regect touch the ends of his hair.

“Man, fuck you. Me? Shitty?” He laughed. “No worries, you…” The entity trailed off. Neither cared enough to finish the sentence.

Then, “Okay. Tell.. Tell her what she wants to know.”

The following night was surprisingly normal. Just when Regect and Moe thought about leaving dinner in the fridge again, they heard footsteps coming down the stairs. And.. to no surprise, it was Ze.

Moe honked cheerily, loudly. She practically launched herself at Ze, wrapping her arms around him. Ze allowed it without much struggle, closing his eyes momentarily.

He needed that.

“Thank you Moe. Moe — Moe that’s –” Ze coughed, Moe almost suffocating him in the hug. Regect stood by the kitchen, laughter emerging from him. Ze himself couldn't help but not feel that agitated.

When Moe finally let go, Ze followed her into the dining table. There were three plates, all untouched. He sighed internally, knowing that he wasn't too late.

On the plate sat something contrasting. A mixture of fun and plain, obviously some mysterious food cooked up by his two roommates. But it didn't look bad. In fact, it looked almost appealing, and a small reminder that he’s always going to be stuck with them no matter what.

Staring on the food a little harder, he noticed something. Someone had used ketchup to write out a huge Z across his food.

Regect watched how Ze blankly stared into his plate, his hand holding the fork tensing up.

“Yo, dude. You good, man?” Regect spoke, his mouth stuffed with food.

Moe honked a few times, a “Yeah, aren't you hungry?”

Ze blanked out, his eyes glued to the plate. He quickly perked his head up. “No, no– I’m not not hungry. I mean– I am hungry.”

Regect laughed over his stutter while Moe mimed what looked like a giggle. No one paid huge mind over his mistake, only enjoying his longed for company.

Then, “Uhm, thank you, guys. For making food. Uh. And – sorry, for being such a dick.” He gritted his teeth in near embarrassment, leg restlessly moving. He didn't take his eyes off his plate once.

“Talk about a mood-killer,” Regect laughed. He scanned around, and noticed Moe’s deathly glare from beside him, before putting his hands up. “I’m joking.”

Moe crossed her arms in disapproval. She honked, loud and clear, “It’s all good. Don't you worry, and go eat your food, okay?” She gave Regect another silent glare, then instantly smiling and Ze.

“Yeah, man. You’re good,” Regect redeemed.

To end the day off, the three all cramped onto the couch. It had always fitted three people, whereas two always felt too hollow. Moe and Ze talked about things one wanted to keep secret, while Regect listened wordlessly. Dry eyes and sharp comebacks did not play a part, and surprisingly, Ze was okay with that.

Some stupid movie Regect once again suggested they should watch, knowing Ze would fall asleep right in the safe arms of him and Moe.