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Nikos marches forward alongside the group, axe in hand. The next blessing was going to drop soon and they wanted to get there in time.
Apo stares at him strangely, but there’s a mischievous sparkle in her magenta eyes. “Scott, you sound different right now.”
“That’s not Scott,” Sausage explains, looking back at Nikos. What are they talking about? Of course he’s not the pretty one.
“What?” He frowns.
Sausage rubs the back of his neck awkward, not meeting his eyes. “Well… we were trying to tell you you look like Scott right now, somebo…”
“WHAT.” The man’s words fade as Nikos’s chest tightens, breath caught in his throat. Everything’s itchy, why are his limbs itchy, why does he have the urge to rip off his skin?
“I was standing here describing greatness and I’m the pretty one?!” He laughs loudly.
Pyro turns to Shelby, brow furrowed. “I think it’s the face stealer that’s still at large.”
“Face stealer?” Shelby tilts her head to the sound of his voice.
Nikos grins shakily, breathing shallow. “No! No, no, put it away.” Why was it so hard to breathe, why does his heart hurt in a way that makes him want to thrash and kick his limbs?
“…yeah there’s a face stealer.” Pyro continues on in the background.
“Whoever it was, put it away!” He turns to Sausage and Apo who are holding back laughter.
“I think you’re like that forever.” Sausage grins cheekily, glancing at Apo.
“I am me! No one else.” He can’t help but keep looking down at his body. It looks normal. But it doesn’t feel normal at all. His chest hurts, it aches, demanding to be him again. As if it’s ready to explode in any second, and release the thousands of tiny lighting bolts crawling beneath his skin, making everything hurt in a way impossible to describe.
This is wrong. He is Nikos. He is strong, muscular, shirtless, not small, fragile and clothed. His hands are supposed to be rough, calloused, experienced, not smooth, soft, unharmed. He is loud, not quiet.
Apo walks up to him, eyes glinting in the sunlight. “Make if we punch you hard enough it’ll go away.
“Go ahead!” He hides his desperation with a wide smile.
Each punch to his skin is a personal insult, a confirmation the pain doesn’t vanish, that he doesn’t return to his body. Nikos tries to mask his disappointment, keeping a confident smile and attitude as best as he can.
“Maybe it’ll just go away over time?” Sausage shrugs, the rest of the group starting to continue walking.
“It better.” He grumbles to himself as his fingers twitch and tremble.
“Do your best Scott impression!” Apo shouts out. He ignores her, inhaling sharply. The group continues onward towards the direction of the blessing, chatting about how they looked to Shelby. Nikos gripped his axe tighter, hating this horrible wrongness, how alien his body is.
His head is a screaming symphony, screeching over and over to stop this insanity and return to who he is. This isn’t his skin, his muscles, his bones. Nikos fights the urge to shout and scream and everything’s too loud, they’re laughing at his discomfort, there’s thorns piercing through his skull, both numb and loud and hurting and itchy and his body is static and buzzing–
He turns his focus to the current conversation.
Sausage talks about himself and his appearance. “I mean I don’t have giant pecs like Nikos but I still got some, they're pretty good.”
Apo snickers and walks past him, looking him up and down. “Doesn’t look very muscly to me right now.”
“Stop it!” His head shoots up to glare at her, hot blood rushing to his face. “I hate this so much.”
“Where’s your thunder now, loud one?” Apo continues to taunt.
He clenches his jaw and summons a lighting bolt in his hand. The sheer power courses through him, honestly making him feel worse overall. “It’s right here.”
With no effort at all he launches it at the bird. She lets out a screech, avoiding the hit. At least he gains some satisfaction.
But she’s already back at his side already, grinning smugly. “I’ll be honest, you look more like a traditional champion of Zeus with those clothes…”
“NO! I don’t!” Nikos yells, pushing her away harshly and picking up the pace. Why can’t she leave him alone!?
Apo follows him, accompanied by Pyro and Sausage. He grumbles to himself, stomping as loudly as he can.
“Nikos, where are you going?” Sausage asks innocently, trying to hide his smile but failing miserably. It’s pathetic.
“What?” He scowls, looking over his shoulder with a hard glare.
“Are you okay?” Apo draws out the last word, dripping with patronizing sympathy.
“No! Do I seem okay to you!?” He shouts as he whips around, waving his arms around.
“I think you're stuck like that forever.” Sausage laughs, tilting his head.
“Shut it! No!”
More laughter. For them, this is a harmless prank. Nikos is being dramatic, whining loudly like he always does. What kind of a man gets affected by something so pathetic?
Stop being dramatic. You're making this a bigger deal than it actually is.
Rage and agony blind him. “I’m going to fucking kill whoever is doing this, I’m going to kill them, take their coin, and spit on it.” Before he can stop himself, he lets go of his axe and grabs at his arms frantically. He is Nikos. He is no one else.
“Make it stop, make it stop! I do not need this—I do not want this! Make it stop!” He doesn’t even know who he’s yelling at anymore. The world's numb, indifferent to his pain as always. A heavy, gravelly growl escapes his throat
“Well, you still going to the drop…?” Apo almost looks bored. As if Nikos’s reaction is an annoyance rather than something actually serious.
He stops in front of Apo and bares his teeth with a snarl. “Stop this. Make. It. Stop.”
She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms. “You're like a grumbling dog of the pack.”
“STOP IT!” Nikos roars, lifting up his ax and hurling the weapon as hard as he can. It lodges itself into the tree behind the bird, startling her. “I am no dog!
Pyro and Sausage both laugh, but Shelby says nothing, focusing on walking instead.
“I’m sure you’ll change back.” Sausage pauses, putting his arm on Nikos’s shoulder. “Eventually.”
He immediately shoves him off before yanking his axe out of the tree. “I don’t—I hate this!”
They run into Owen, and Nikos feels a pang of guilt for being glad the other can’t see him right now.
“Hello. Heading to the blessing as well?” He tilts her head to the sound of their footsteps, holding a new staff.
“Heads up, that’s not Scott.” Sausage blurts out, unaware of the deadly glare Nikos is giving him.
“It has to stop! I still see me as me, I can’t even see it!” His breathing grows shallow again, the air sucked out of his lungs. You are Nikos, he tries to remind himself.
“You don’t even see it?” Shelby winces, turning her head to the direction of his voice and stumbles on a rock.
“No! This is why I am so angry!” It’s half of the truth. The second half is just stupid.
“Cmon Scott.” Apo calls him, walking in front of him as she looks back. Rage surges through him, joined by the army of ants currently digging under his skin desperately begging to be blown up.
“STOP IT!” Nikos hates the weakness that shakes his voice, tears of frustration swelling in the corner of his eyes.
Apo giggles and runs away as he chases after her, screaming threat after threat.
“I'm going to strangle you myself!” He throws another lightning bolt at her, barely missing the ends of her feathers. “I’m going to pluck your feathers if you do not stop!
“Ah!” She halts to a quick stop, scanning her feathers frantically which gives Nikos enough time to grab her by the arm. “Stop this.”
“Bad Scott, let go.” Apo tries to tug herself free to no avail. His grip tightens, inhaling sharply.
“Do not call me him! Stop it!” Nikos yells, yanking her arm hard enough to bruise.
“Oww, what do you want to be called?” Apo’s confidence falters for a second, but keeps her taunting smirk.
“I am Nikos. I am me.” He steps closer with each word. But are those words really true when he feels so wrong? “And whoever is doing this-” Apo steps back but he pulls her forward until he’s right in her face, emphasizing each syllable. “-is going to pay. I don’t know who it is but it has to stop. Do you understand?”
She sighs dramatically as he lets go of her. “I understand.”
“You were the only one not seen at the last blessing. I will stay quiet if you make this stop.”
“I’ll make it stop if you vote for who I ask.”
“…Who.”
Apo turns to leave, chin held high as if she’s someone of high status and he’s below her. “Hmm, we’ll have to figure that out later…”
“No. Now.”
“…or else I’ll torment you for the rest of time.”
“NOW!” Nikos grabs her wrist and twists it, not hard enough to permanently cause any damage but still hurt either way. “Who!?”
“You don’t get to make that choice,” Apo simply smiles and pats his head as if he’s a dog, making him flinch.
Nikos snaps.
Before Apo can even blink, his fist slams into her face with a satisfying thump. She stumbles back, putting a hand to her red cheek. And yet she still laughs. The sound alone makes him want to shrink, to run and scratch his bones until he is normal again. Her laugh is everywhere, an audience mocking him. Too sensitive.
He barely hears her words as she tells him to choose Scott. As if he’ll actually do what she says.
“Fine.” Nikos shoves her out of his way, wanting desperately to catch up with the rest of the group and away from her.
“Look at me.” He clenches his fists, digging his nails into his palms.
“Cmon, look at me.” Her voice is patronizing and it sickens him.
“Make it stop.” Nikos turns to meet her eyes, trembling with rage.
“Look! Stop talking.” Apo crosses her arms. “Your pride needs to make you learn to be quiet sometimes.”
You're too much. You're too loud. You should be more quiet. You’re so sensitive. Just calm down. It’s not a big deal. You're being dramatic. Why can’t you take a joke?!
His vision blurs, tears threatening to spill without his permission. Which is ridiculous! There is no reason to cry! Why the hell is his body reacting like this, why is he so affected by this?
“Stop—stop it.”
“Alright alright, jeez, you’re back to normal.” Apo rolls her eyes with a groan. “See, that wasn’t too bad now was it?”
“…it was awful.” Nikos argues. “Nothing against the pretty one. But you do not take away me from me. Do you understand? Not again.” He pokes her, voice growing deeper in an attempt to mask his vulnerability threatening to expose him. “This time, I respect our word. You change me out of me again, I cut you down where you stand.”
Apo shrugs. “Fine, I respect your word.” And she leaves without another word.
As soon as she’s out of sight, Nikos drops his axe and hugs himself. He scratches at his arms hard enough to draw blood, stumbling back to hide behind a tree so no one else can be burdened by him. His legs fail him and he sits down hard. His chest is too tight, with the air burning his lungs with every breath he tries to take. Head up, don’t let the tears fall. Calm down. Stop being so sensitive. Be a man.
Is he even himself? He can’t tell. Not with his head buzzing with pain and his hands shaking with the urge to satisfy the itch consuming his trembling body. What if the bird didn’t actually change him back? What if he isn’t himself? What if she—
His axe thuds on the ground before him. He blinks in surprise, taken aback by the sudden interruption. The dam breaks thanks to the blinking and tears fall for no stupid reason. Nikos looks up at Cleo, who doesn’t say a word.
She just… stares.
“…am I me?” His voice cracks in a way that makes him wince. He hates how small he sounds.
Cleo’s eyes soften, giving him a sad smile. She nods, “You are Nikos, are you not?”
He smiles back weakly. “I am Nikos.”