pabit

[pabit]

[MORNING]

HAVEN'T HAD ENOUGH OF ME YET? MAYBE YOU ENJOY SEEING ME SUFFER.

i guess i cant blame you though.

(Send Habit a question.)

[ask] >>

[pabit]

Never thought I’d see Habit like this. How the mighty have fallen. Almost feel bad for the guy…almost. It’s his comeuppance really.

Anyways, why would the instance-death knife he and Vinny made not exist anymore?

- 👁️

It’s not that it doesn’t exist — you all saw it just as I did. Except it wasn’t your life in danger…not at that moment, anyways.

Look. I didn’t want to believe that these terrible weapons could ever be real, that lethality of this magnitude is simply impossible to create by hand. Power like that can only come naturally, or so I assumed.

I've got nothing better to do until I fall asleep – if I'm lucky – so here's some existential vomit that might ruin your night.

Anyways.

The universe has always been far more complicated than most are aware of, and it’s only getting more complex, and more difficult, to ignore. But regardless of our effort to understand the world, humankind has yet to get to the truth.

So what is that truth, exactly?

To be honest...I cannot say that I know the full extent of it myself. Clearly what I thought to be true, that the sigil of the North Star was just a myth, has been proven otherwise. So I don't know everything...but I know enough to wish I knew nothing at all, if that means something.

...

Whatcha know about black holes, huh?

Sorry, that's not an innuendo. I'm talkin' about legit, supermassive black holes. The ones in space, y'know.

The tall man is kinda like that – an insurmountable universal force so powerful that pretty much nothing can escape its pull. It warps the properties of our perceived reality and exists at a scale far surpassing our ability to quantify it beyond our native dimension; a true cosmic horror for the ages.

…

If this knife can kill something like that…? You’d be a fool not to fear it.

I'm...going to bed now. Goodnight.

[ask] >>

[pabit]

Off topic but where did you get that scar from Patrick?

Oh.

I didn't think anyone would notice. No...of course someone would. I guess I just didn't think anyone would be crass enough to bring it up.

I suppose it is relevant though...considering Habit gave me this scar. Well...sort of. I'll tell you what happened.

It was back when I had sought Habit out for the first time, not long after Shaun's death. The first time was supposed to be the last time, for me at least. I wanted to put an end to my misery and give the rotten bastard a spit in the eye on the way out.

Only Habit didn't let me drown in that tub. At the last second he pulled me out, and though I could barely see anything through my wet hair and oxygen-deprived eyes...for a moment I swear Habit looked rather spooked at his own apparent mercy.

The moment didn't last long, obviously. In the next, Habit was grabbing me up by the shirt and he pulled me to my feet. He looked angry now, as angry as he had been just minutes ago, after I mentioned the doctor he hates so much.

I remember Habit saying, "GOD YOU'RE PATHETIC."

But whether he was talking to me or to himself was unclear. He wasn't really looking at me, seemingly preoccupied with shoving me through the house and towards the front door. As we neared the threshold, I tripped over Habit's foot, which sent him tumbling over as well. Lemme tell ya...hardwood floors are unforgiving.

Anyways, I rolled onto my back as I tried to get my wits about me again, but Habit was quick to pin me down. He had a knife out now, pointing it threateningly in my face. I just smiled at him. I mean, I came here to die right? Why not smile at a second attempt on my life?

Except Habit was hesitating. It was a little annoying, actually.

"Well? Do you need permission or something? Come on, I gave you that already."

"SHUT UP."

Habit brought the knife closer to my face, just short of touching anything. I grabbed his hand, and forced the blade to the skin of my cheek. I guess I nicked myself in the process, seeing Habit's eyes widen as he glares down at me. I was getting a little fed up with this.

"Do something, damn you! Do what you were made to do!"

Habit snarled ferociously. I squeezed my eyes shut, anticipating the void.

Instead, Habit swung his arm up and out with another growl, leaving a nasty gash in my face. And before I could even cry out in pain, he started yanking me to my feet again. I heard the knife clatter to the ground as I'm shoved out of the front door - tripping over the steps in the process, of course. The door slammed shut again, and everything was quiet.

To say I was left stunned would be an understatement. Habit had spared me. As I sat there on the sidewalk leading up to the porch, staring back at the door I just fell out of, the question of why? burned hot in my mind, hotter than the burning cut on my face that was steadily gushing blood. I still don't know the answer to that yet.

...

So...there you have it.

Gotta say, I'm kinda surprised Habit glossed over this detail when he recounted the same event not too long ago. Then again...he seems remorseful over his decision to come here in the first place. Surely there are more regrets he rather not mention.

[ask] >>

[pabit]

Yeah, I admit I went a little far. But I've seen enough, lived enough, to know when I'm being lied to. And Habit is lying to himself too. Can't just barge into another man's house under false pretenses.

That said, I need to be honest as well: I'm not sure why I even care in the first place.

What has he done for me besides kill my brother for no fucking reason? So what if he's become pathetic and sad, right...?

Even so,

I cant stand by and watch him drown in his own misery.

[ask] >>

[pabit]

"I have a safe, an actual safe - and for obvious reasons I wont be showing where it is or the combination of it.

I rather not have to scrape a corpse off my living room floor. So...into the safe it will go for the time being - where Habit cant get the bright idea of another attempt."

[ASK] >>

[pabit]

"Can't just drop a fucking bomb in the garbage, are you kidding me?

No. It stays here. I know a safe place to put it."

[ASK] >>

[pabit]

"I didn't think Habit could even...well, feel the way he does right now. I'm really not sure what to make of it. I had a hunch with everything I pointed out to him but...I don't think I enjoy being right on the money at the moment.

I guess facing mortality really does terrible things to a guy, eh?"

[ASK] >>

[pabit]

While he's out, I guess I could field some questions. Comments. Concerns...I'm sure theres plenty of that. Concern.

This fucking thing...it shouldn't exist. What am I even supposed to do now?

[ASK] >>

[pabit]

"I wont let you hurt yourself, alright? It's okay...I've got you."

>>

[pabit]

>>

[pabit]

footage restored.......

>>

[pabit]

RABBIT RABBIT RABBIT

>>

[pabit]

"Lets put the knife down now, okay?"

>>

[pabit]

[corrupted footage] pt 2

…

patrick…how…

…

HOW DARE YOU?!

What? Hey— hey wait, Hab—!

(Habit storms towards Patrick. He is red in the face and furious, but it seems like his eyes are moist. Patrick steps backwards until Habit has him pinned against the wall, hands gripping his arms tightly.)

YOU DARE TO EXPLAIN TO ME MY OWN LIFE? MY PAIN? MY LOSS? YOU DO NOT KNOW ME.

(Patrick is mildly frightened by Habit's sudden change in mood, but remains steadfast in his words.)

Gkhh—shit…! If I have no idea what I am talking about, then why are you so upset?!

(Habit gives Patrick a hard shake.)

YOU FUCKER— HOW COULD YOU KNOW ANY OF THAT. YOU WEREN'T THERE! WAXING POETIC OVER A STRANGER’S MISFORTUNE…IT'S SO INSULTING! YOU HAVEN'T THE RIGHT!

Habit— goddammit, stop it! Fuck, that hurts…!

OH? YOU THINK THIS HURTS? I’LL SHOW YOU WHAT REAL PAIN IS.

(Habit, with one hand pressing on Patrick’s chest to hold him firmly against the wall, reaches around himself and pulls out a knife from a well hidden sheath affixed to the back of his pants.

He draws the blade up to Patrick’s face, letting him take in the sight. Patrick turns as white as a ghost in recognition of the infernal object. As he then lowers it down to his neck, Patrick involuntarily stops breathing for a few moments, fearful of even the slightest touch of its blunt edge.)

HAHAHA! YOU KNOW WHAT THIS IS, DONT YA? SINCE YOU SEEM TO KNOW EVERYTHING AND ALL.

(Patrick grimaces.)

Hnn– yeah…I know the godkiller well enough. I do know everything, don’t I? Nice of you to finally notice.

(Patrick pauses a beat. A smirk appears in the corners of his mouth.)

Of course that means I know you won’t use it against me too.

(Habit narrows his eyes.)

TEST YOUR KNOWLEDGE THEN, STARSHINE. ARE YOU SMARTER THAN A FIFTH GRADER? WHAT HAPPENS WHEN A SHARP THING MEETS A FLESHY TARGET?

I have no patience for pussy footing around with your stupid references, Habit. Do it if you’re gonna do it.

(Habit snarls and shoves Patrick hard against the wall with one hand; the cool metal blade of the knife in the other ever so slightly graces the skin of Patrick’s throat.)

…

…

(Habit seems to grow still, trembling microscopically but it’s there all the same, and Patrick grins.)

Hesitating, I see…wouldn’t be the first time you couldn’t kill me, right?

(Habit frowns as he slams his empty palm to the wall next to Patrick’s head and pushes off with something like a frustrated growl. He turns away in a single step.)

FUCK YOU.

…’Fuck you’? Is that all you got? I thought you were better than those words, Habs. You could make ‘em count, but you won’t! Wow…at least Vinny followed through—

SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!

(Habit paces around frantically before stopping and doubling over, gripping at his scalp and growling low to himself instead. Patrick slowly peels himself away from the wall, though only makes one step further before watching Habit with a slight frown.)

I’m sorry Habit…but you need to face the facts:

You loved him.

That's the feeling you’re unable to identify — you’ve never loved anything. Well, besides power. You thought that’s why you kept Vin around, that the one thing you needed from him most was the star…that knife. You could’ve killed whatever stood in your way and climbed to the top of the food chain.

Nothing would’ve been able to stop you…except love did. And you knew one day it’d be Vin you’d have to kill too.

…

>>

[pabit]

[corrupted footage]

OH WOW. THESE COOKIES REALLY ARE FUCKING AWESOME. WELL DONE, COWBOY!

Haha, thank you thank you. I’m hoping this can cheer you up a little…you’ve had quite an emotional day.

EMOTIONAL? I'M NOT EMOTIONAL.

Really…? Sorry sweetheart, but I’ve read back on your posts from earlier today and…it seems to me like you’re full of those stinkin’ feelings, actually! 

YEAH, NO FUCKING DUH. I SAID I'M NOT “E-MO-TION-ALLL”…YA DIG? I DON'T WAIL LIKE A WENCH AT EVERY LITTLE INCONVENIENCE. BUT THAT'S NOT TO SAY I HAVE ZERO CAPACITY FOR “FEELINGS” EITHER. IT'S TWO DIFFERENT THINGS. SO DONT PISS ME OFF.

Oh fine. Let’s get serious then.

What about other feelings? In your story about Vinny, you said you had felt something there but couldn’t figure out what.

(HABIT swallows the rest of the food in his mouth and pauses his vigorous feasting to stare down into the cookie plate)

…FUCK. WHAT'S YOUR ANGLE, PATRICK. I THOUGHT YOU WANTED ME TO CHEER UP…THIS TOPIC WON'T BE CONDUCIVE TO THAT END.

I am sincerely trying to help you, Habs, that's my angle. The fact is, I can cheer you up with small gestures that will certainly make you feel good for the moment, but you wont feel any better overall by refusing to talk about the shit that's dragging you down. 

…UGH. I GUESS YOU ARE RIGHT, BUT… VINNY IS DEAD – NONE OF THOSE FEELINGS FUCKING MATTER ANYMORE, PAT. THEY PROBABLY NEVER DID. WHAT MORE IS THERE TO TALK ABOUT?

Ah. That’s the part that haunts you isn’t it; the “probably” of it all. You’re uncertain, still confused about what happened here – what went wrong. And most importantly, you want to know why.

Am I correct?

……

Hm. 

………………….

Not going to answer me? Fine, fuck it. This is how I see it:

You became attached to this guy like ya never could with anyone else in the whole fuckin universe, Habit. And it felt so good to do so. You let yourself become lost in a fantasy; anticipating the thrill of having Vinny fumble over himself to keep you interested. Or how grateful he would be, to be the one entrusted with building you back up after every great fall; and you fall hard and often. You could crush him utterly and have him back in the next life. Vinny is much smarter and much stronger than he looks, and just as obsessive in his own ways…so he’d climb out of the rubble and do it all over again, just because he can; just because he wants to.

Oh yes…you and him would have grown so much stronger together, enough to take on the whole damn planet someday if you guys really tried. And you wanted that so badly. A monster-man and a man-made monster, gleefully kicking up the dust of all the world’s ashes, readying it for her new rulers: Vinny and the Habit, side by side, hand in hand, blood on blood.

It was a wonderfully childish ideal to believe in all that though, wasn't it? Even after all you’ve done for him, Vin betrayed you; taking all of those unspoken dreams and unfulfilled desires along with him as he dies to a fucking papercut.

So much time spent with him…now made completely pointless. So many pieces of your mind, heart, and body gifted to him, just to carelessly toss you to the curb when you weren’t looking…

It’s easier on a broken heart to deny that it’s broken in the first place. It's easier to fall in line when the numbness takes hold, and mindlessly insist that none of it matters; never did, never will. There's no reason to cry over spilled milk as they say. It's no big deal. It’s all just part of the game. Vinny was meant to be nothing more than a pawn on your board anyways. But he was indeed more than just that to you, wasn’t he?

Vin softened you and left you exposed to a world that won’t ever accept what you'll become even after he is gone; and he won’t be coming back, not this time. You and him made sure of it by bringing those awful weapons to life on that chilly fall evening before the end of the world. Your last full day together; where everything else in the universe ceased to exist beyond the confines perpetuated by two desolate dreamers; a warm fire at his legs; the melody of ghosts crowding around, crying out towards the inky sky above; beautiful and tragic all the same. You must have seen that in him, too.

After the end of it all, you got out alive and he did not. You didn’t win the game nor Vinny’s companionship, but you survived…and just barely.

Vinny is dead. 

And when that harsh reality slaps you across the face, you know you will never be allowed to forget the price you’ve paid, with suffering and with fire, for the loyalty that Vin never actually intended to give you. Now you’re covered with those scars. Razor sharp claws have sunk themselves deeply into you and won't let go. However…to whom do these claw marks belong to? Vinny; for betraying your trust and destroying your dreams? Or yourself; for letting him do it so easily…?

Why did you go back to your old sinking vessel, Habit?

Were you really so tempted by the belief that not taking Evan’s corpse would otherwise be wasteful? A shame?

Were you inspired by the discolored splotches painting decaying flesh in dull greys and blues; admiring the texture of his flesh canvas, well-weathered by the rain and the hungry mouths of all the tiny critters that feast happily upon each wrinkle?

Did the overwhelming smell of iron from all that ghastly bloodspill soaking into the ground below, brought up in the wafts of wet earth and wild mountain grasses, bring a wistful tear to your eye? 

Was Evan really worth all of that to you…?

…

No.

You weren’t there for Evan at all, I think. He was more of an afterthought if anything. It was Vinny you wanted to see though. And I believe that’s why you made the impulsive decision to repossess his friend’s body; it was the only way to be there at Vin’s side and feel him next to you, just one last time.

Then you ran away to avoid the consequences.

...........................................................................

>>

[pabit]

Hi, its Patrick speaking.

Michael somehow locked up both of the camera creeps in the bathroom. I guess they were freaking him out while he was repairing the door or some shit? The footage is pretty much useless, which is a bit irritating…but I’ve transcribed the audio for you all here. I think its crucial to provide the full word-for-word conversation.

----

> welp…the hole has been patched. i will have to replace the entire door eventually but um, this will work for right now.

> …

> uh…

> ......

> habit?

> …YES?

> are you...upset about what i said earlier?

> WHAT? NO NO…IM FINE. > don’t even worry about it.

> …you’re lying.

> no i’m not—

> habit…i may be mentally unwell, but im not stupid. i know that look in your eyes. i know that tone in your voice. ive seen it all before - i was practically raised on the sadness of my institutionalized peers.

> IS THAT HOW YOU SEE THE HABIT? AS ONE OF THOSE PATHETIC FUCKING CRAZY HUMANS?

> ah…i wouldnt describe them that harshly but i mean, basically yeah? > they are just people with problems man…many of whom have done some fucked up things, patrick and myself included. mostly though, they are kinda just…sad. Because they keep fucking up, or getting fucked up, and they dont know how to stop it. evidently you are not much different from them or myself in that way

> so uh— i just wanna say that i’m sorry for my behavior. i was being a jackass and it was uncalled for. i wanted to believe you deserved that and much worse but…i dunno. spewing blind hatred like that doesnt sit right with me.

> ….... > no. don’t apologize.

> what? why not?

> nothing you said was inaccurate nor unjustified, michael. why be sorry about that?

> because, uh…you apologized to me first? an' well, thats unlike you. at least, its unlike whatever i thought of you before today. maybe patrick is onto something…and maybe i was little too quick to judgment.

> HA…ARE YOU SURE YOURE NOT STUPID? I’VE DESTROYED MORE THAN JUST YOUR DOOR. I KILLED—

> i know. i know. and i dunno if i’ll ever truly forgive you for taking my brother away…but like. i also can recognize the value of an apology. it’s a good start, if you really mean it.

> …

> do you mean it, habit? are you actually sorry?

> I HAVE NOTHING TO GAIN FROM LYING TO YOU.

> sure– unless you think appeasing me is what will keep yourself from being kicked out and left to die alone

[HABIT laughs]

> I’D BE A MORON TO SINCERELY BELIEVE THAT. YOU AND PATRICK HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO BAR ME FROM THIS PLACE, AT ANY TIME, FOR ANY REASON. I ACCEPT THAT. I WOULD DESERVE IT. AND ONE WAY OR ANOTHER…I WILL DIE WITH ALL OF MY REGRETS RIGHT BESIDE ME.

> I APOLOGIZED BECAUSE, WELL…I BELIEVE YOU DESERVE ONE, WHILE I STILL HAVE THE TIME TO GIVE IT. ONE LESS REGRET TO TAKE TO THE GRAVE, EH? > there is no other reason.

> you believe i deserve an apology, huh...

> ERRR…YEAH. > I CANT PRETEND LIKE I FULLY UNDERSTAND ALL THE WAYS IN WHICH MY ACTIONS HAVE AFFECTED YOU…BUT UM...

> YOU LOST SOMEONE DEEPLY IMPORTANT TO YOU. I HAVE LOST SOMEONE RECENTLY TOO. AND UH, IT…HURTS. IT HURTS AND IM THE ONLY MONSTER TO BLAME. > IF THE PAIN I LIVE WITH NOW IS EVEN REMOTELY CLOSE TO WHAT I’VE DONE TO YOU…THEN YES…i am sorry.

> I KNOW THAT WILL NEVER BE GOOD ENOUGH AND WONT FIX A DAMN THING...SO THROW ME OUT, IF YOU MUST. I WILL GO WITHOUT QUESTION.

> …

> …

> …

> …WELL?

> ...... . . . . . .........

> MICHAEL?

> …ugh…uh, hey…habit.

> ERR— PATRICK?

> heh…you got it…

> sorry im…still a bit fuzzy upstairs at the moment.

> UM. OKAY. SIT DOWN THEN?

[I flopped into the couch next to Habit, kinda bracing against him to ground myself.]

> SO UM– > IS MICHAEL ALRIGHT?

> Michael…? Oh right. > He’s fine.

> …THAT'S ALL? JUST FINE?

> Ugh– dude my head is killing me right now, gimme a break…

> OH. SORRY.

> Its– its okay, Habit. This is nothing out of the ordinary, really…it happens pretty often when I come around.

> AH…

> Anyways, ummmm…yeah! > Michael is fine. Processing everything, but he's fine. I won't go into more detail though…it's not really my place to talk about his feelings about you, after all. He will come back to say what he needs to when he is ready.

> AND IF HE IS NEVER READY…? IF HE WANTS ME GONE?

> Luckily for you, Mikey doesn't have the only say in that matter. You still have me, Habs – and I want you to be here.

> ................

----

Habit didn't say anything else after that, so thats when I decided to get up and let the creeps out of the bathroom. Now I'm in the kitchen; finishing up this post and waiting for this batch of cookies to bake. I'm just trying to give Hab's brain a moment to catch up with itself, y'know? You know. Whatever. Hopefully the sweets will lighten the mood. I promise I wont eat them all this time, heh.

It also appears that I have missed some interesting bits of insight while out of the house today, so I will check back in later once I am better informed and Habit has gotten a few dozen cookies in his stomach.

[ask] >>

[pabit]

RIGHT…I GUESS I SHOULD’VE EXPECTED THIS. i will leave you to it then. sorry for bothering you...

and about the door, too.

(hes apologizing…?)

[ask] >>