#Accordion Man | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bluetorchsky · 2 months

Text

THSC OC – You Are Here (And You Are Love) (2/2)

Summary: An inner turmoil digs deep into the soul of one of the Music Enforcers, Accordion. Despite coming back from a successful mission, to him everything still went wrong–and it was all his fault. But does he truly believe that? Or has hauntings of his past finally caught up to him, after recent events made him dig up a question he buried long ago: “Why am I even here?”

Rating: Teen

Genres: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drama (slight drama)

Trigger Warnings for Chapter two: Depictions of Physical Abuse, Nightmares (First part of the story), Violence, Self-Deprecation talk, Panic Attacks and Anxiety Attacks (General warning)

Word count for this chapter: 7.4k words

Accordion, Violin, Aurelia, Florence, Vivian, Lucifer, Dr. Clara Life, Dr. Whitespade, Echo, Jingle, Crumb and Morsel belong to me. Every other character is from The Henry Stickmin universe.

Chapter one

(Note: I apologize if this is dialogue heavy, but this is meant to be the dialogue part. Also apologize if the ending is a bit abrupt, Trynna finish this before work)

He imagines a young boy, face smooth and free from any scars and with his limbs still strong and intact. The young boy is curled up into a ball as everything was used to break him. Metal pipes, spiked bats, wooden stakes, nags of bricks, searing stokers prodding every bit of skin uncovered and ripe for marking, and just about anything that would leave a lasting impression on the boy’s body.

It would only stop once the ringleader heard his bones snap and break from the repeated hits. And just when the young boy thought it was all over, the ringleader–a mother he once knew–forced her husband to heal all his wounds so that they may practice the same act again, and again, and again until the rich and greedy things grew tired of the same show he was forced to put on for them.

But this time, the husband refused to heal his son. Instead, he tried to attack the ringleader but instead, he had his cheek carved and sliced by the very blade he once gave her. A small little knife to remember him by; now he would only remember it as a weapon to keep him in line. He was thrown next to the boy and the show resumed. Everything used to break the boy was now being used on him.

The boy tried to scream, beg, plead for the ringleader to stop but his voice had left him. His throat was raw and strained from the times he tried to hide his screams but it was forced out of him regardless. When a pipe was about to hit him, the boy was quickly pulled into his father’s arms, who absorbed the hard blow to his back. The young boy couldn’t fight back and he had to let himself be held as the show continued on and on for an eternity.

When the curtain fell over them, the father would slowly get up and pick up his son into his arms, despite his own wounds and bruises protesting him to just sleep and never wake up. Somehow he would make it to the boy’s room and place him on his bed, and do his best to heal him before sleep took them into her arms. He was ashamed and guilty for letting this show still go on, but he could not fight the ringleader back. Not on his own anyways.

The boy cried no matter what. He cried when he was brought back to his room and he cried when his father tried to heal him. But it wasn’t just for the pain he was feeling, but he cried for his father too. His father had no more tears left to give, so the boy was his voice to let out the pain and agony he felt. Although the father couldn’t cry, he would take the boy into his arms and lie in bed with him, soothing his own pain with songs and lullabies that brought back a familiar but alien comfort, repeating words that made him relax and close his eyes easier.

Oliver sees the young boy as himself, the husband as his own father, Lucifer, and the ringleader and her crew as his mother, Vivian. Every night, every time he watched this scene unfold, he would take his younger self and father into his own arms, as he became larger and bigger than their home, teeth bared and wings unfurling across the sky as the red scales of his dragon body glistened and shined under the bright moonlight.

He would fly them away into a deep forest and hide them in a house built just for the two of them. And when they could sleep without having to cry, he would go back to that awful place called home and break everything with his claws, fangs, tail, and paws–slam the earth and make the foundation rumble and crack, scream until the glass shards imbedded themselves into the ringleader’s crew, his aunts and uncles, and grab each and every one of those actors and tear them apart in his mouth, savouring each and every scream like a haunted melody.

And when he closed his eyes one last time, it would all disappear and he was left free falling into the void. No matter how many times he wished he could go back and change what had happened to him, it always ended the same way.

Falling into the maw of the beast that carried the unknown, and letting darkness consume his whole being, the screams and cries of his younger self becoming louder and louder and louder until–

─────────────────

“Ah, looks like he’s waking up.”

“Oliver!”

“Careful with him, Trent. He’s going to need a lot of rest and time to recover after this.”

“And so do you.”

“But–”

“I know you’ve been hiding crap from me, ArcCoil. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard just like he has, it is completely irresponsible what the two of you are doing!”

“Oi! Lay off him, will ya?”

Oliver slowly opened his eyes, blinking a couple of times to adjust to the new light shining above him. Looking up at the ceiling before he blinked once more and tried to get up. As he tried to move his arms, he realized he couldn’t feel his hands. He looked down at his body and saw that in addition to not having his prosthetics, he didn’t have his turtleneck on, but he was still wearing his pants. He spotted his prosthetics sitting in a suitcase made for it, right at the end of the bed. His focus was averted when he heard someone’s voice speaking to him.

“We had to remove your prosthetics for now, Oliver. You need to rest, and your body has gone through enough trauma these past few weeks.”

He looked up to his side. Dr. Clara was sitting next to his bed on his right side holding a clipboard in her hands. She was writing down some notes, her red cross earrings shining beneath the room’s lights. Although he can only see part of her face, he could tell that she was upset even if she wasn’t physically showing it.

“I–” He started to say before his throat tightened and he started coughing violently. Immediately, he felt a hand gently push him back against the pillows. It was warm over his chest, a more welcoming feeling that soothed his racing heart. Oliver looked up to his left and his eyes widened. “Trent…”

Now that he was not desperately trying to shake his husband out of his panic attack, Trent looked absolutely awful. His mascara that he applied earlier was now messed up because of his tears, his eyes were completely red from crying and his cheeks stained with tear tracks, and he wasn’t in his usual uniform. He didn’t expect him to be when he saw him again, but it was strange to see him wearing a baggy shirt, yoga pants and without his hat. Oliver squinted his eyes and carefully pushed himself up into a sitting position.

“...You’re wearing one of my shirts.” He murmured looking at him.

Trent sniffed and wiped his left eye with the heel of his hand. “I know…I’m sorry for taking it.” He said softly.

Before he could try and say something, Dr. Clara cleared her throat to get Oliver’s attention. He looked up and watched her stand up from her chair to stand in front of him and Trent. He was able to look around the room, now realizing it to be his and Trent’s bedroom, and saw the other occupants there. Dr. Whitespade was standing next to the dresser, arms crossed with his usual scowl on his scarred face but his posture was less tense than he usually would be. Near the door, Reginald and RHM were on some chairs they brought in from one of the other rooms. Reginald was busy signing some documents while RHM was watching the couple with a diligent look.

He turned his attention back to Dr. Clara as she looked through her notes on her clipboard. “I will get straight to the point Oliver.” She said in her usual blunt tone. “You have been pushing not only your body to the limit, but your mental state is reaching its limit as well. You have not slept properly, you have not eaten properly, and you have not allowed yourself the relief of just doing nothing to calm your turbulent mind. Am I correct in assuming this?”

Oliver closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. “Yes…”

The older female doctor shook her head and let out her own tired sigh. “Why did you not take paternity leave when I told you to?” She asked and gestured back to the chief. “Reginald was willing to give it to you and Trent when the twins were born. And from what I was told, you are still given some sort of monetary compensation while on paternity leave.”

“I…I just wanted to make sure that…” He took in a shuddering breath and lowered his head, trying to hide himself away from everyone. “I just wanted to keep them safe.”

“From what?” RHM asked, raising an eyebrow.

“O-Or from who, n-nyeh?” Reginald asked quietly, gripping his pen tightly in his hand. “You are safe here, Oliver. A-And so is your family. What do you think could possibly hurt you here, nyeh?”

He stayed quiet for a moment before he gave his answer, unsuccessfully hiding his tears. “F-From me…”

The chief and his right hand’s eyes widened, but the doctors were not shocked or surprised by his answer. Trent just stared at Oliver, an unreadable emotion on his face. After a few moments, Dr. Clara moved next to Oliver and gently placed a hand on his right shoulder.

“I don’t know what’s been going on with you recently, but I will make this clear.” She said, gripping his shoulder as her gray eyes burned like a fire. “You are to take paternity leave with Trent. You are to focus and take care of your children. And you must take care of yourself. If you struggle, you must ask for help. This isn’t something you can just do by yourself, Oliver. There are people here who genuinely love and care for your wellbeing. I’ll be damned if they didn’t break down hearing what you’re doing to yourself.”

She stood up again and walked over to her protegee, packing away her things. “That being said, I suggest that you and Trent talk about what has been bothering you both.” She clipped her bag shut and turned to face the couple once more. “I will come back in three days to check up on you and your twins. Am I clear?”

All Oliver and Trent could do was nod at her, too tired to talk and too tired to argue with the woman who had once brought them back from the dead. Something they never really talked about with anyone except with her and Whitespade. Trent carefully leaned against Oliver, careful not to put too much weight on him, his body sagging against the pillows like a doll thrown on the bed, hiding his face from his husband. Although Oliver still wasn’t saying anything, he leaned his head against Trent’s, sniffling as some tears fell with his husband’s hidden tears.

Dr. Clara’s hardened features softened just a little before she turned around and left through the door. Dr. Whitespade waited until he pushed himself off the wall, hands in his pockets, and followed after his mentor.

“Although I am your main doctor, therapy is more of Dr. Clara’s field.” The gruff doctor said. “I will be back with her, but to check on the kids…and talk with your family and friends, should they have any questions at all.”

Once the doctor left, Reginald and RHM stood up and followed suit. But before the chief stepped out of the room, he turned around with his hands clasped together, as if he was making a plea similar to what Matilda had done earlier.

“Oliver, I-I know things have been…rough lately.” Reginald said. “But please know, Right and I are here for you and Trent, should you ever need it. M-My door is always open to you, nyeh. I’m…I’m sorry if I’ve never said it before, but you are truly one of our best Toppats in the clan. You and your husband…”

As he turned to leave, he heard the taller man’s soft, raspy voice call out, “Thank you…for everything…”

Reginald stopped for just a moment before he took in a deep breath and let it go, leaving the room and closing the bedroom door behind him. He adjusted his two top hats and took his cane from Right Hand Man before looking at him.

“L-Let’s go find the others, nyeh.” He said as he slipped his arm with his. “They’ll need to know w-what’s going on.”

─────────────────

The two men sat together in silence, unable to come up with anything to say or even know what they should say to the other. Even in the dimly lit bedroom, with a candle that was lit earlier slowly burning on the dresser being one of their only other light sources, they were at a loss for words.

Oliver didn’t know how long they sat together on their bed, but he knew it was long enough for Trent to leave multiple times to check on the kids. When he was left alone, the few seconds he had to himself, he tried to think of something to say. Apologize to his husband, promise to be a better father for the kids, promise to be a better Toppat for everyone else. There was something he had to say, they couldn’t just keep it all shoved under a rug. He swallowed thickly and closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath before–

“There he is, there’s your dada.”

He opened his eyes as soon as he heard the giggling of his children. Trent was holding both Aurelia and Florence in his arms, giving the other man a small smile. As he walked back inside, the two musical devices, Crumb and Morsel followed behind, pushing in the crib from the other room.

“H-How, what?” Oliver voiced and pushed himself up, watching Trent come back to his side of the bed. “The crib, how are they–”

“I just used my magic dear. I’ll put it back when we have to.” Trent responded, settling down next to his husband. He looked down at his kids, who were babbling loudly and looking at Oliver with wide big eyes, and smiled. “I just thought…you wanted to see them after your mission.”

There was a part of him screaming and begging him to not touch the kids. He didn’t have his arms, how could he hold them properly, how could he even hug them? They would be freaked out by his lack of arms, they would run away from him, they would scream and scream–

“The only thing they want from you is to feel safe and loved. You will have plenty of time to explain about your arms, but there is more time for them to love you for who you are, my son.”

Oliver blinked and tilted his head to the side, listening to the calm and deep voice. “I…you’re right…” He mumbled before he looked back up at Trent. Still not trusting himself to say anything, he nodded at him.

Despite the turmoil that the two of them were going through, the harmony of their magic still let them communicate in their own way. Carefully, Oliver moved towards his right giving Trent enough space to place both Aurelia and Florence on the bed, laying them on their stomachs. The babies cooed and rolled back and forth from their stomach to their backs, before looking up at Oliver with wide-eyed curious faces. In just seconds, Aurelia cried happily and loudly and pushed herself closer to her father.

Oliver grunted when he felt his daughter headbutt him in the side, making him chuckle for the first time that day. “Careful, my little music note.” He said to her, moving to lay on his side to face his twins better. “You don’t want to hurt yourself or your brother, hm?”

She only giggled and scooted herself more forward, leaning her entire small weight against his chest. Florence followed after his sister, giggling the entire way, and pressed himself against his father’s chest, curling up right next to his sister and grabbed her hand with his.

He felt their combined vibrations on his chest as he watched their unconditional love for one another, and suddenly he was choking back his tears. Oliver tried to cover his face into the pillows, but Trent reached over and gently placed his hand on his cheek, the side where most of it was scarred. Without saying another word, Oliver blinked and let his tears fall, one after the other, and curled up some more while being careful of the babies. He sobbed quietly, letting Trent brush away each and every tear that fell while he looked at his husband with a somber look.

Oliver could sense the way his lover was looking at him, but he could also tell his children were looking at him with confused looks. He closed his eyes, took in a deep breath and let it go, before he started to sing a lullaby to the twins.

It was a lullaby he remembered his father sang to him, a song about a young child walking hand in hand with their parents, telling them every single thing they loved about them. The twins struggled to keep their eyes open and keep listening to their father’s soothing voice, but as soon as their other father joined in, singing the parents’ verse about every single thing they loved about their child, both Aurelia and Florence yawned together and closed their eyes, lulled to sleep by their fathers’ harmony once more.

Once they were finished, Trent carefully picked up the twins once more and placed a kiss on their foreheads each. He looked up at his husband, smiling a little. Oliver still wasn’t sure but he still pushed himself up and leaned forward, placing his own kisses on their foreheads each. Before he pulled away, he whistled out a few notes softly. The music notes, as big as the babies’ heads, combined together to create two pairs of ear muffs. Each pair was carefully placed on the sleeping baby, both unbothered by the action.

After Trent got the twins settled back into their crib, he looked over at the two magical musical devices and their pets. “Thank you, all of you for watching over them.” He said, reaching down to rub the top of Crumb’s head. “Go and rest, you’ve earned it.”

Echo and Jingle breathed their own sighs of relief and waddled over to the dresser. They both helped each other up to the top before settling into a “sleep” mode, grateful for the time to recharge. As for the two pets, Crumb wrapped herself around one of the crib’s legs and made herself comfortable, while Morsel walked over to his friend and sat next to her, snoozing away as soon as she fell asleep.

With everyone in the room, aside from them, now resting, both fathers looked at each other. Through their intertwined magic, there were many, many unspoken questions floating around them, and they were both unsure of where to begin. But there was one that Trent needed to know the answer or answers to.

Trent carefully laid on his side of the bed and looked at Oliver with a troubled look. “When I tried to call you and Morsel answered it for you, I…I heard you talking to someone.” He started, a waver in his voice as he tried to hold himself together. He swallowed before asking, “Who were you talking to, Oliver?”

That was one question he didn’t want to answer first, but it was better than asking him the one he thought he would ask. Oliver propped himself up one more time, turning to his husband as he did. “I…I was talking to my parents. To my mom and my dad…Mostly shouting at mom to stop saying the things she was saying…”

Trent’s brown eyes widened before they softened, holding himself back from crying. “Oh, Ollie. When did you start hearing their voices?”

“A-After our argument, three weeks ago.” Oliver frowned sadly as he brought his knees up and he pressed his forehead against them. “I knew I should have gone to the Medbay and spoken with one of the doctors, or even called Whitespade about what was happening. But I couldn’t…I couldn’t fight back against whatever she was saying…I couldn’t because she was right…”

“Don’t say that.” Trent reached out to Oliver, a hand on his shoulder and a hand on his upper arm. “Please, don’t say that. Whatever that voice was telling you, it’s not true.”

Oliver just shook his head, refusing to look at Trent. “I kept doing the missions to get away from you and the kids, because I knew I was going to hurt them badly!” He said back, his voice laced with more of his tears. “I’m just going to hurt them, Trent. I couldn’t even feed one of them properly, I could have messed up and drowned him with the formula. I had to have Caly help me feed them, and she’s uncomfortable with handling baby stuff! I’m just an inconvenience…”

Trent frowned and sat right next to Oliver, the movement actually pushing Oliver off the bed for a moment. With his head up, Trent reached out and forced Oliver to look at him, both of his hands holding his face.

“If she was uncomfortable, why did she still help you? She could have called for Matilda or even Geoffrey, but she still stayed and helped you. She put aside her own needs to help you with yours, because she probably knew you were scared.” Trent said. “I was scared too, I was afraid of hurting our own children, but I managed to get over that fear. Because of you.”

He blinked. “Me?”

“Yes.” Trent breathed, letting his shoulders shake before he gently pressed his forehead against Oliver’s, continuing in a soft voice, “Because when I was pregnant, you always comforted me when I needed it. You reassured me that I would be a wonderful father to our kids, because I enjoy and love taking care of the Toppat kids. You were patient with me when I was emotional, when I was angry, when I was depressed, when I was just all over the place–You withstood everything I said and did. And you could have left at any point–yet you are still here with me. Here you are, worried about me, worried about your kids, worried about our clan, you thought it would be better to just hide your feelings and needs. But it isn’t better.”

Oliver pulled out of Trent’s grasp, gently, before he looked down at the bed sheets, wishing to grip them as hard as possible. “But, you said I’m not doing enough.”

“And that was wrong of me to say. It was wrong of me to say that to you, especially with what was troubling you.” Trent said. “In the time you needed me to support you, just like you did for me, I instead brought you down and made you feel like you couldn’t do anything. That anything you did wasn’t enough, but it is enough. You’re always enough to me, Oliver. Everything you do, I know you always try to do your best. You always give your everything to help those around you. You didn’t need to hear me say that, especially when you needed my help. I am so sorry, luv, I am so sorry Oliver. I shouldn’t have lost myself like that…”

Trent wiped away his tears, as he sobbed and cried, finally letting his own reservoir drain of its water. How long he had been holding back, even he wasn’t so sure. As he rubbed his wet cheek with his hand, he hiccuped when he felt something push underneath his chin and into his neck.

He looked down with a small gasp and saw the back of his husband’s head, only being able to see his long black hair and his back. Trent slowly wrapped his arms around Oliver, leaning his head forward to rest on top of Oliver’s. “Luv…”

Oliver looked up at him, silent in his contemplation. Then, he asked, “Why did you lash out at me? Did…Did I really do something wrong?”

His husband sighed, frowning sadly. “No, no you didn’t do anything wrong, Oliver. I was just…I was just upset, but not at you.” He explained as he started to thread his fingers through his husband’s long, black hair with a soft hum. “After the first night we came back with the twins, I still wasn’t feeling like myself. Both physically and mentally. I still felt tired, I kept having these bad migraines that didn’t help with the kids waking up in the middle of the night, and my emotions were just…I just didn’t feel right.”

Oliver hummed, moving to the side a bit so he wasn’t putting his whole weight on Trent. “I remember how you were feeling. It always felt like ice being dropped down the back of my shirt. Sometimes it’s a nice feeling, but other times I don't want to feel it.” He frowned a little. “But I don’t blame you for how you felt. I knew having to go back and forth from our room to the Medbay was difficult and exhausting.”

“That still doesn’t excuse what I said to you. Or how I texted you earlier today. I don’t blame you for being annoyed with me with the last few texts you sent.”

Oliver grimaced and closed his eyes. “I-I wasn’t annoyed…I was scared.” He took in a breath, shakily with a sob, before releasing it. “I was scared that you…that you were going to stop loving me, because I came back later than I should have…and because I kept doing the missions instead of being with you and the kids.”

A moment of silence passed between them. Trent continued to run his fingers through Oliver’s hair, sometimes humming a note or two, while Oliver let out small sobs as more of his tears fell. He didn’t realize how much he had been holding back until today, and he felt anger towards himself for not realizing it.

“You do tend to hide your emotions better than others, but that does come with the side effect of not being able to open up easily. You allow others to open up to you, but you must give yourself that same opportunity.”

“...To open myself up to others?”

“Precisely. You deserve the same kindness you give to others, my son.”

Oliver blinked. Part of him hoped he wasn’t going crazy from hearing what he believed what he thought was his father’s voice, but another part of him knew this was just his way to cope with everything he was feeling; a small part of him was relieved to hear his father’s voice ever since he heard of the news of what happened to him.

He moved his focus away from his thoughts back to his husband’s movement. His ears perked up when he listened to what he was softly humming. It made Oliver giggle and press his head against his chest with a small smile. This caught Trent’s attention, who opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow at his husband.

“What’s so funny?” He asked.

Oliver shook his head. “Not funny. More of…more that I love it when you do this.” He said softly.

“Do what?”

“When you play with my hair like a harp, and you sing one of your favorite songs when you do so.” He said, looking up at him with adoration. “It’s one of my favorite things you do, and…I really appreciate it when you hold me like this…”

If Trent’s heart could burst out of his chest to show his love for his partner, it definitely would have happened at this moment. Instead, he pulled Oliver closer to him and kissed the top of his head, hugging him as best he could. “You do the same for me when I need it, so I always want to return that love you show to me.” He said, reaching down to caress Oliver’s face. “I love you, Oliver. I’m so sorry again for how I’ve been treating you these past few weeks. It wasn’t fair to you, or the kids, so I’m going to make sure this won’t happen again.”

Oliver was quiet for a moment before he sat up and moved closer to his husband. “It’s okay, Trent.” He said, wrapping his stubs around Trent’s neck while he pressed his forehead against his. “I do still feel hurt from what happened, but now I know why it did happen. I’ll help you work on it, so you don’t feel like you have to hide it.” He sighed, moving away so their eyes could meet. “But I am sorry for staying quiet about how I was really feeling. I should have trusted you more to listen to what I had to say, especially if it was really hurting me. I know we need time apart after we’ve had an argument, but it shouldn’t have been this long. I’ll…I’ll make sure to work on being more open with how I’m feeling with you.”

Trent smiled at him. “I forgive you, luv.” He said smiling, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. “I know you have trouble with your emotions, especially the ones that are very personal with you, but I will help you work on that.” He pulled Oliver into a hug, resting his head on his right shoulder. “ No matter what, we’re in this together, singing from one song to the other–”

“–Until the end of our melodies have been sung.” Oliver finished, squeezing his husband back as best he could. He let out a shaky sigh of relief, sniffling. “I love you too, Trent.”

The two stayed like that for a few minutes, humming a melody together and letting their magic intertwine once again. This time, Trent’s eyes opened when he felt something was off.

“Oliver…The mission that you were on…” Trent started before he sighed, pulling out of the hug. “That mission you were just on, it was what caused your breakdown, wasn’t it?”

Oliver silently nodded, looking the other way while trying to hide himself away from his husband. But remembering what they had just promised, he turned back to his husband and nodded over to the end of the bed.

“I’ll tell you…but can you help put my prosthetics back on?” He let out a sigh. “I…I want to hold your hand when I tell you.”

Trent smiled with a nod. “Of course, dear. Anything for you.”

It took a few minutes for the husbands to get Oliver’s arms back, but when they were finished Oliver was ready to tell Trent about the mission. As ready as he’ll ever be at least.

Trent laid back down on the bed, propping the pillows up behind him so he was a bit more comfortable. Oliver followed after him, after putting on one of Trent’s shirts, and laid on his back over Trent’s body. The short-haired man hummed as he let his husband get comfortable in-between his legs and rest his head on his chest. His left hand reached down to grasp Oliver’s left, while his right hand started running his fingers through his hair again. Oliver’s right hand joined his left hand in holding Trent’s hand, gripping it tightly.

Oliver closed his eyes and leaned his cheek against Trent’s, a somber frown on his face. “The mission did go well but what happened earlier made me question if…if I’m still cut out for this or not…”

─────────────────

He had been tasked with freeing the Toppats captured by the Government, while another part of his team took back the items that they had stolen from the Government and from the museums. Everyone followed him, Kabbitz, Hanz and Sledge to do their respective duties, and Accordion became the prime example of what a Toppat should be doing on a mission to get back their stolen goods, and their colleagues.

He fought through hoards of soldiers as he freed one Toppat after the other, pushed back against wave after wave of officers trying to slow him and the others down, and weaved and dodged every attempt by a soldier to catch him. He was too lithe, fast, elusive for them to grab, which stumped and stunned many soldiers, veterans and fresh meat alike. He was a giant compared to the others, how could they avoid him every time?!

Through the chaos that unfolded, the gunfire and bullets dancing over their heads, the desperate pleas to their commander passed down from one body to the next, Accordion felt nothing for these people. He felt nothing for the people he threw to the ground or against the walls by his own metal hands, never flinched by brittle and strong bones being broken and crushed by his fingers, every one of them curled around limb after limb. It was all another song sung by different artists of one company, but he still knew the lyrics by heart as it kept him going, kept him focused and sane as he fought for his fellow Toppats’ freedom.

It kept him from remembering what happened before he was teleported off the station and onto Earth. It kept him from thinking about his husband and his kids, and what he might accidentally do if he stayed for even one more minute around them. He never wanted any harm to happen to them, especially if it came from him…

His mission came to a full sudden stop, a record scratch in an empty room that bounced and echoed off the stone prison walls. Accordion had paid no attention when he broke the bars to the last remaining cell, the Toppat squeaking out a high-pitched ‘thank you!’ before he turned around and grabbed one of the artists sneaking up behind him. He slammed the artist–it’s a soldier, goddamnit–against the wall, the back of their head hitting a particular patch that was jagged and sharp. Blood ran down the wall, being absorbed by the rocky surface and letting it stay still forever as a stain, and down the back of the soldier’s neck. Even as it stained his dark blue gloves, Accordion started to close his hand around their frail thin neck, their dog tags jingling noiselessly to their quickened heartbeat.

Before he could mark a remark, snarl or even taunt the soldier, to make them remember in their afterlife the face of who would kill them, the soldier whimpered out a line with the last of the oxygen stored in their lungs, mustering a plea familiar to his ears.

“P-Please…please have mercy. I’m sorry, I’m sorry for what I’ve d-done! I’m so sorry!”

He froze, time stopping between the two of them. Those words, that voice, the tune…Those weren’t the lyrics to the song of the chaos going on. Those words…a song buried a long time ago, bridges burned and a new life started…those were his words to his own song.

“Please…please have mercy mom! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

Accordion took a step back, dropping the injured soldier as he did. As the soldier groaned and sputtered back to his second chance of life, Accordion’s eye caught the single gold bar, lined with blue, stitched on the left shoulder of the soldier’s jacket. His attention traveled up to the face hidden by the shadow of his beret until the soldier’s young eyes caught his own.

The Toppat’s entire face, having been numb and static throughout the entire duration of that chaos, contorted into one of horror and recognition. The slow creep of realizing what he had done to this soldier, what he had almost done to them, suddenly washed over his entire being.

“Accordion! ACCORDION!”

Kabbitz’s angered but panicked voice couldn’t stop him from kneeling down and moving the soldier’s shoulder, gently, to try and look at their face to see if he did recognize them. Every soldier he had faced was different, but this one, yes, yes he did know this one. This one was very recent. They kept showing up at these missions to prove himself to his commander, to prove he had enough worth to serve his country and to his General. And now, as he moved his bloodied glove away from their body, this soldier was still trying to stand and fight, feeling his want and hope to be recognized as a worthy soldier. As a worthy person to live.

But he was not just a soldier. No, to Accordion he was the twin of another soldier that always joined him in these missions. Twins that he had grown to recognize as the pair they were, and as their own individuals. Twins that he had…developed a soft spot for…

He couldn’t bring himself to end this soldier’s song, to cut off the harmony between him and his brother. Not when the song of his past started to overtake and whisper into his ear the verses, the bridges, and chorus of a life he tried to leave behind–

“ACCORDION WE HAVE TO GO NOW!”

Kabbitz had broken through one of the prison walls to reach him, and his voice, booming over every sound in the hallway, finally broke through the other enforcer’s thoughts. He freed himself from the spot he put himself in, but it didn’t stop the tears falling down his cheeks like heavy rain drops. When they started falling he wasn’t sure, but it was enough for the soldier lying in pain on the ground to stop moving and look up in shock. His orange eyebrows creased in disbelief and the corners of his lips pulled down in a frown, but his eyes showed a sliver of concern for his enemy.

Before he could reach out or even utter a word, the tall Toppat in red vanished in the blink of an eye. Although he couldn’t see him, he could hear his heavy footsteps race down the hallway, fading from his earshot as another pair of footsteps ran towards him from the opposite end.

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“I-I don’t know why I let him go, I don’t know why I didn’t try to kill him” Oliver sputtered, fresh tears running down his cheeks. “B-But he just…his face reminded me of me when I was younger, when mom beat me for failing at anything she asked me to do. And at that moment…I t-truly felt like I was her. A-And I just…just–”

His throat closed up and he closed his eyes, letting out a whimper and hurtful moan. He wanted to keep talking, to keep saying what was on his mind, but everything he had felt before had returned. His self-hatred for becoming like his mom, for failing at one simple task that wasn’t even asked of him, for letting his emotions control him when they weren’t supposed to–

“You feel like a failure.” Trent finished for him, eyebrows furrowed as he could feel his partner’s self-loathing soaking into his skin. He moved some of Oliver’s hair from his face, humming. “But you’re not a failure, Oliver. You told me he has a twin brother, right?”

“R-Right…”

“And now that we have Aurelia and Florence, part of you didn’t want to kill him because of how his own brother would feel, right?”

He was silent for a moment before he looked up and nodded at Trent. “They don’t like being apart from each other, no matter what…”

Trent reached down to press his hand against his husband’s cheek. “Then letting him live doesn’t make you a failure, Oliver. It makes you human, it makes you someone who still finds compassion for his enemy, especially if they are new to their jobs.” He said in a soothing voice, rubbing his thumb against his cheek. “Yes, he may have been part of the Government, but knowing you didn’t kill him makes me happy, luv.”

Oliver sniffed and rubbed his nose with his hand. “How come?”

“Because it means that no matter what, your love still pushes through the cold and hard barriers you put up. Maybe sometimes you do have to hold back your love to do what is right for the clan, but you know when to show mercy for those who don’t deserve your hatred. Your mother never did any of that. But your father did what he could to spare you from her hands. Even if it wasn’t enough, he still tried to help you because he still loved you.”

Oliver pondered over his words with a hum, his left thumb rubbing against the back of Trent’s hand. “So…you’re saying I’m not like her…but I’m more like my dad?”

Trent tilted his head, humming back. “I guess so. But you have done more than what he could, despite the setbacks you’ve faced. I’m sure he would be proud of that.”

“I’m always proud of you no matter what, Oliver.” The soft and gentle deep voice spoke in his mind. As it started to fade away, the voice gave its final words to him. “Do what you must do to protect your family, friends, and your clan. But never let yourself fall into your hatred. Your love is much more powerful than you know. I love you, Oliver, my son. Please…take care of yourself.”

The taller man closed his eyes, letting out a sigh of relief and smiled as tears fell down his cheeks. “I will dad…” He mumbled to himself, squeezing Trent’s hand in his.

His husband smiled softly and he leaned down to place another kiss on top of his forehead. “There is one thing you should know, my luv.” He said quietly, a glint in his brown eyes. “Something that has always drawn me to you, no matter what.”

Oliver snorted, opening his eyes. “Was my good looks not enough?” He asked with a smirk. “Or was me fumbling my way through life and making a bunch of mistakes too much?”

Trent chuckled. “No, you silly goose!” He said. He leaned back and got Oliver to sit next to him. As he did, he leaned his head on his left shoulder, intertwining their fingers together.

“You know I love you for everything you are.”

“Mistakes and all?”

“Mistakes and all.”

Oliver blinked, tilting his head. “I love you for who you are as well, Trent. Mistakes and all.” He said. “But, why are you telling me this in this way?”

“Because to me, you are love, Oliver. You are the love that I am drawn to each and every day, you are the love that other people seek out when they need it, and you let them in with open arms, no hesitation. You give your love to those who need it, and they give it back to you in their own special way.” He said and reached up to place his hand over his husband’s chest. “And, forgive me if this is so cheesy, I’m proud to call you my home. My home is made up of love, and it is made of your love and mine.”

As Trent closed his eyes, he suddenly felt Oliver’s shoulders shaking. He opened his eyes and looked up, watching his husband taking rapid breaths as he started to cry loudly, tears falling faster than a rapid waterfall. Before he could do anything, Oliver pulled him close into a tight hug, burying his face into the crook of his neck.

“Thank you…thank you, Trent.” He stuttered with a smile. “That means…everything to me…You and everyone else mean everything to me…I love you so much.”

Trent hugged him back, smiling as his own tears started falling in time with his husband’s. “I love you too, Oliver.” He whispered back.

The two husbands stayed close to each other, letting sleep take them away into their dreams, knowing they would have time to help each other fix what needed to be fixed. Not just for themselves, but for their kids, family, friends, and co-workers. It was a life of their own that was just getting started after all.

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(Epilogue: Coming Soon)

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bluetorchsky · 2 months

Text

THSC OC – You Are Here (And You Are Love) (1/2)

Rating: Teen

Genres: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drama (slight drama)

Trigger Warnings for Chapter one: Panic attacks, Anxiety attacks, Self-Deprecation talk, Mentions of self-harm and suicide

Word count for this chapter: 7.4k words

Color and Format Legend for texts: Green - Geoffrey Plumb, Pink - Calypso Bells, Orange - Reginald Copperbottom, Blue - Violin (Trent ArcCoil), Red - Accordion (Oliver ArcCoil), Bold and Italics - ??? and ??? (Regular italics is either a flashback or someone's thoughts)

Accordion, Violin and Calypso belong to me. Every other character is from The Henry Stickmin universe.

The moment that they landed on that familiar, steel circular platform, surrounded by a pillar of light green, it was the moment his mind started to race with several questions. All the “what-ifs” and “what could have been” scenarios. It made his stomach lurch and do uncomfortable flips inside of him.

“Now you've done it. Look at you, showing yourself at your weakest point to that soldier. You should have killed them, they will tell their superiors now and you will become an easy target. Your family will become an easy target. Stupid boy, have you learned nothing? You should have killed them. Why are you even here if you can’t do one small task right–”

“Quiet.” He muttered to himself weakly, clutching his stomach as he stiffly pushed his way through the sea of Toppats trying to get off the platform, with injured Toppats and stolen gold in hands. Many of them would have gladly moved out of the way for the taller man, for he and the other group of enforcers fought their way to save their captured members. But as they heard his hushed, erratic breathing and the seeing the sway in his balance, it stalled them in surprise. “Is he okay?” “Does he need help?” “Should we let the others know?” Were some of the questions that filled the other Toppats’ minds, unaware of another Toppat rushing after the one that was trying to leave.

Just before the taller Toppat could take a step out of the room and into the dimly lit hallway, he was yanked back, harshly, by someone grabbing his arm.

“Accordion, what the hell is going on?!” Kabbitz’s deep and loud voice overshadowed the small chatter of the room. It made everyone look up at the two enforcers as Kabbitz tried to tug the other man back inside, a worried look on his face. “You’ve been acting strange ever since Violin came back from the Medbay, like three weeks ago. You haven’t been acting like yourself, at all. You haven’t even made one annoyed comment at me! What’s going on with you?”

Accordion, one of the tallest Toppats in the Space Division and a man of very few words, yanked his arm out of Kabbitz’s grip and turned to him with a snarl. “Mind your goddamn business, Kabbitz. I don’t need your help.”

The group of Toppats behind Kabbitz gasped and covered their mouths, some looking at the other with their open concerned looks. He’s never spoken like this to one of their own, at least publicly. What was going on with him?

The other enforcer’s eyes, blue as a glinting sapphire and yellow as a polished topaz, widened. “A-Accordion…” Kabbitz trailed off before he shook his head and glared at the other man. “Look man, me and the other enforcers are worried for you.” He said, anger seeping into his words like venom.

“You’re taking on more missions than you usually do, you look like you haven’t had a proper night’s sleep, let alone a damn nap, and you have been avoiding anyone and everyone who wants to talk to you! This…This isn’t like you at all.”

Accordion’s eyes narrowed, almost in disgust. “What I do is my own damn business.” He repeated, a danger in his tone. “Don’t make me repeat myself. Just leave me alone.”

“Acorn, please! The man’s got a point.” Matilda Ivy spoke up from behind the fusion enforcer, with her brother, Jack Doogan, joining her at her side. She held her hands together, pleading as she looked at him with the same concerned look everyone had in that room. “Please, Acorn. We only want to help you. We know it’s a bit stressful for you and Violin right now, especially with the new changes. Maybe you should take a break–”

“I don’t need a break!” Accordion snapped, a bit more bite in his words than he anticipated. He stopped and shook his head, growling as he turned his back to them and started walking away. “I just…I just need to do this. That’s all they need me to do.”

“Oi, come on mate! This is serious!” Jack yelled as he sidestepped Kabbitz and tried to run after him. The man who mentored Accordion, one of the very few Toppats that became one of his friends in the clan, tried to reach out for him. “You just can’t ignore this!”

The Toppat in red growled, one hand reaching up to grip the side of his head. “Enough, enough.” He whispered to himself, a wall of transparent red suddenly appearing between him and the group of Toppats. He barely heard Jack slamming into it and falling down, as he walked down the hall, speed walking his way back to his and his husband’s room. Even when the wall disappeared, no one made an attempt to catch up to him, not even Kabbitz. All they could do was watch him leave, a layer of stifled tension and unease settling over them.

Not once did Accordion stop for anyone he passed in the hallways. He ignored the shouts and cries of his fellow Toppats, some of their voices were familiar in a warmth he knew but he still ignored them. He even ignored his chief and his right hand, Reginald Copperbottom and Right Hand Man, when they called out for him. Especially when the chief used his real name. It made him freeze for just a second before he continued making his way back to his quarters as quickly as possible, all while trying to battle against the overwhelming, sickly voice in his mind.

“You’re breaking, you’re being truly seen. You don’t want that, do you? You don’t want them to know how something so small is breaking the walls you built? Go hide away like you always do, you sniveling coward. Just like the failure of your father would always do.”

His body twitched, his fists clenched and another growl escaped his lips. “Quiet, quiet.” He muttered before he forced himself to stay silent as he finally found the hallway that led him to his room. He cursed himself as he realized he passed the hallway twice, blaming himself for easily forgetting the new room he had moved in with his husband. They had a better view of the never-ending darkness of space and Earth, as they moved on to the next new stage in their life.

After too many tries opening the door with his key card, and almost ready to punch the damn thing, it finally opened and he stepped inside. He took in a deep breath before he grabbed his hat and pulled it over his face, and let out the scream he had been holding onto, using a bit of his magic to muffle the noise and keep it inside his hat.

When he ran out of air to keep screaming, he gripped his hat very tightly. “Enough.” He thought to himself. “You have the next few days off. So just…relax…”

He put his hat back on and started removing the items that made him too recognizable in this damn place. His jacket and vest were tossed haphazardly to the ground, leaving him in only his black turtleneck and pants. His boots were tugged off and shoved into the closet, where they fell over after losing their balance from not being placed properly. He yanked his gloves off so hard, he almost pulled one of his prosthetics off, before he tossed them over his shoulder where they landed near the coffee table by the couch. And as he tried to remove his hat, he had to tug it off his head, as it wanted to stay there for its own safety. He finally snatched it off so violently that it caused his hair to be pulled up and fall over his face, obscuring his vision. He growled and shook his head and walked over to the chair near the window, slamming the piece of headwear onto the couch. It deflated a little as it let out its own sad and tired scream from everything that happened today, and the days before.

When all of his colour had been stripped off, he started to pace back and forth in front of the window with his head in his hands. “Too much noise, too much noise, too much.” Accordion said with a frustrated growl. “Quiet, I need quiet…” He tried to focus on his breathing, try to steady the rapid heartbeat that threatened to become louder and louder and break the peace he was trying to build in his mind. He needed to stay in control, needed to stay above the waters before he could suffocate and drown into the deepest depths of the unknown. He had to free his mind from this stress that just came out of nowhere!

“No…it didn’t come out of nowhere…” He muttered to himself as he lowered his hands from his head, stopping in his tracks as he casted his gaze downwards to the maroon colored carpeted floor. “It’s my fault this is even happening…”

“Is it really? You are too hard on yourself. You have to step back and–”

Accordion closed his eyes and let out a shaky sigh. “Please. Stop it.”

When the voice did not respond and he felt he could breathe a little easier, he looked over at the items he threw away like garbage. With a sigh and his shoulder still bunched up, he walked over to the items to pick them up. He fixed his boots so they stood up properly next to another pair of shoes, he went to the couch and fixed his hat, carefully reshaping the top of it like pottery. He reached under the coffee table and grabbed his gloves, folding them neatly and placing it beside his hat, smiling a little at the contrast of colours. As he picked up his vest and jacket, he paused when he saw his phone sitting in the inside pocket, the screen’s colours illuminating in the small dark space it was sitting in.

He pulled it out and looked at the phone’s background image. It was of Violin sitting in a booth in the cafeteria, when they were still on the Airship. He was staring out of one of the windows, a small smile on his face and the sun’s rays laid over his face in just the right ways. He had gotten a good angle of his husband too, where he could see both sides of his face instead of just one. There were too many photos in his gallery of him that only showed one side or the other. He cherished these kinds of photos whenever he could get them.

Although his heart wasn’t beating against his chest with a constant drumming, he still felt the pit in his stomach getting heavier as swiped over to his messaging app and opened the conversation between him and Violin. Accordion took in a deep breath before he started to text out a message, forcing his fingers to move over each letter.

“I’m back from the mission and I’m in our room. It went well.”

Even before sending it, he knew how stiff the tone of the message felt. He felt awful, desperately trying to think of another message but none came to him. He did his best to reel his emotions back in before he sent the text off to his husband. He pocketed his phone in his pants and resumed picking up his items. Just as he was about to fold his jacket and vest to put beside his hat and gloves, he caught something out of the corner of his good eye.

One of the rooms had its door slightly ajar, where it was dark inside except for the glow in the dark stickers he put up about a week ago. It was a mixture of space and music themed stickers that filled the empty spots of the walls that surrounded two of the new family members in their family. The twins, Aurelia and Florence, were sleeping quietly and soundly under the watchful eye of Echo and Jingle, the animated radio and music player watching from above a dresser near the crib, and Crumb the Chain Chomp and Morsel the moody Chao. The two creatures were resting by the foot of the crib, with Crumb snoring in time to the music that the mobile was playing over the twins. Nothing could happen to the twins, who were about three months old, with the small group of strange magical creatures watching over them.

A small smile graced Accordion’s face before he froze, realizing something. “Oh no…” He paled as he checked the time on his phone. It was almost the end of the afternoon and the beginning of the evening.

“We came back late…later than usual…I took too long again…” He whispered to himself, clutching his phone tightly to the point it almost felt like it would snap in half. “I promised him I would come back soon. To be with him and the kids…B-But I messed up on the mission and–”

“Your first mistake was choosing to even go on this mission. Every time, you choose to go on a mission instead of staying here. Why? Do you just enjoy leaving your family behind to fend for themselves? Again and Again, you chose the missions over them. So you’re right to blame yourself for everything that has happened, you are at fault for everything going wrong with them.”

“Quiet, quiet.” He repeated to himself as he knocked on the side of his head, trying to drown out that haunting voice. “I-I’m only doing this for them. I’m trying to keep them safe.”

“But what are you trying to accomplish? This doesn’t seem right. Something is wrong here. There’s no one who can hurt you or them. So why are you doing this?”

“Because he’s a monster! A god awful monster who only cares about himself, and he knows it. He knows he’s making the wrong decisions and he still wants to be loved? How awful!”

Accordion murmured the two words to himself once again, over and over, as he dropped his jacket and vest onto the couch and walked over to the large, plush chair set up next to the window. Despite the soft material trying to lull him to relax and put his feet up, he stayed sitting up, rigid as a statue, left foot tapping the floor in a quick, even beat. As he tried to focus on his breathing again, he stopped when he felt his leg vibrate. But instead of one vibration, there were several vibrations, one after the other. He took out his phone and read the new notifications that appeared on the screen.

“Hey kid. Thomas and I heard from Kabz that you left before you guys could do a debriefing. Is everything okay with you?”

“Sugar, I heard you stomping to yer room from a mile away! Did something happen on the mission? Do you want to talk about it?”

“Accordion, I hope I am not intruding, but is it possible later today that Right and I come to your room? Or at least when you are ready to talk. We’re very worried for you, Accordion.”

The beat beat beating of his heart started to get louder, his vision became unfocused as the words started to blur and merge together, creating amalgamations of sentences that didn’t sound or look right, and his head started feeling lighter, as if he has hit his head too hard on the wall. As more notifications started to fill the screen, new messages from different Toppats, family and friends alike, he tried to come up with a reply, or even think of one for one of these messages. What could he even say? There was too much, too much, too much to handle, too much to think about!

…But why? Why were they asking now? They never asked this of him before, not on any other previous missions. Even when he got hurt, almost died on some of them, they never asked, they never wondered, they never thought to say anything to him. Why ask now, huh? Why did they even care at all–

Accordion’s phone vibrated again. He blinked and looked down at the new notification. This time, he could make out the sender’s name to be his husband’s and suddenly his vision cleared as he swiped to read the message.

“Ollie, I saw your team came back from the heist. They said you didn’t look okay when you left, but they said you weren’t hurt either. I’m glad to hear that at least. I’m sorry I’m not there right now, I had to run out of the room to grab something I forgot from one of the lounges.”

He paused for a moment, taking in every word on the screen, before he started typing out a reply.

“Don’t worry, it’s okay. Did you put a barrier around the kids before you left?”

“Yes, of course I did. I even–”

Accordion closed his eyes and took in a sharp inhale, almost making his chest hurt. “Don’t think, don’t think, it’s not like that…” He whispered before forcing his eyes open to read the rest of the message.

“–I even had Echo and Jingle watch over them, alongside Crumb and Morsel. Morsel’s been really coming out of his shell since we took him in. A few days ago, he tried to climb into the twins’ crib to sleep with them. I stopped him from doing so since you weren’t around to help make a decision. But what do you think?”

He bit down on his lower lip, trying to force down the feelings of doubt and regret before they spilled into the pit of his stomach.

“Well, he is smaller and softer than Crumb so he should be able to sleep with them no problem, as long as we can take his phone away from him. But I can watch how he is when they take another nap.”

“Okay. Will you do that before you have to go on another mission as usual?”

His doubts and regrets tumbled together into the pit of his stomach, causing the opening of that pit to become wider for his uncontrollable emotions to seep into his bloodstream. His blood ran cold as he forced his fingers to type each letter and form words to make sentences that were legible enough to read. He tried so hard to stop his phone from shaking, begging his hands to stop trembling with every small breath he took to keep himself grounded. A lump pushed up into his throat, threatening to choke him as his body shook in an unseen earthquake, but he forced himself to stay still so could send out his message.

“no i have the next few days off so i wont be going anywhere. We can figure out what to do with Morsel together.”

“If you say so. I got what I needed so I should be back in about five minutes. See you soon.”

“luv u 2.”

He almost dropped his phone as he typed and sent out that last text, letting out a shaky breath. The trembling became worse and worse as his vision started blurring again. He could feel his husband’s sarcasm and annoyance laced within those texts, haunting him and making him question if he still even loved him. He didn’t say “I love you.” or even say “I love you too.” to his last text. Did it feel too passive aggressive? Did he think he was just trying to bait him into fighting him? He didn’t mean it, he didn’t mean it!

“No, no, no!” Accordion shook his head and tried to control his breathing once more, his right hand clutching the space where his heart was. “No more, I shouldn’t take on any more missions! No more! Today was the last one. I-I can’t keep doing this, this is ruining my marriage with him, my relationship with him. I…I can fix this, I can fix this! I won’t do this again–”

“You said that the last time and the time before that. Did you forget that? Or are you just too scared to admit you want to be away from him and your kids? They put so much pressure on you, it’s just better to be alone! And he knows that too, why else would he have said the things he did? This is all your fault!”

“Maybe perhaps you can just talk to him, express your feelings–”

“You’re acting just like your father. Actually,” The voice laughed cruelly. “You’re really acting more like your mother.” “I…am…NOTHING like her.” He whispered in a harsh, raspy voice. His throat started tightening as his dry lips started to crack under pressure as he re-read the conversation over and over again. Searching for something, anything to show that Violin, no, Trent wasn’t that upset with him. That maybe there was a hint of him being happy that he had the next few days off to spend time with him and the twins. To his knowledge, he hadn’t seemed that annoyed in the past few days. Or was it because he always came back so late that he didn’t have the energy to be annoyed with him? Was it that obvious that he was so oblivious to it? Did he overlook the fact he was causing him and the twins so much pain being away, that he couldn’t admit that he was doing this for whatever reason he had? Was he really becoming like his parents? Were his kids forgetting him already? What, what if–

“It’s not too late to fix things. You just have to do it–”

“Please, he already knows he is the problem. Instead of always trying to be there, he just disappears! They don’t need you, when has anyone ever needed you?”

“There are other ways–”

“Oh! I know! Remember that argument the two of you had three weeks ago? You made him cry, you made the kids cry, you’re an absolutely worthless piece of garbage. Why don’t you just throw yourself into the trash compactor and everyone can move on, you stupid, worthless boy!”

Accordion whimpered and pressed his hands against the sides of his head, wishing he could just flatten his mind and the two voices like a box. Just so he could have some peace and quiet. He closed his eyes and groaned, ignoring the pain he was putting on himself. “Quiet, quiet, please, just be quiet!”

He tried to drown out the bickering voices by thinking of something, anything other than what they were putting him through. But that was a mistake as his mind freely wandered back to the argument that was brought up, back to the day that started the whole divide between him and his husband. No matter how many times he tried to avoid this memory, it always hit him like a heavy right hook to the face.

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When Trent was finally allowed to leave the Medbay, after spending another week there because of his health after the pregnancy, Oliver ran into a small problem.

“Gods, what if I hurt them?” He said to himself as he held a bottle of warmed up formula in one trembling hand, while carefully holding Florence in his other steady arm. The little baby was squirming and crying and crying to be fed, while his twin sister, Aurelia, was lying on their bed, whimpering and crying for one of her dads to hold her.

There was a heavy sigh to his right. “You won’t, luv.” Trent said as he put away the things he used to change the twins’ disappears. “Just hold the bottle up to his lips and he’ll take it. Didn’t you say you got the hang of feeding them while I was still in the Medbay?”

Oliver nodded. “Y-Yeah, b-but I had Caly h-helping me, because–”

“Then just feed him, Oliver! Gods, it shouldn’t be that hard.” Trent snapped before he reached down to pick up Aurelia, rocking her in his arms. “Shh, my dear, shh…”

His husband sighed nervously, looking down at his son. Carefully adjusting him and gripping the bottle tighter in his hand, Oliver brought the bottle up to his lips and hummed. “Come on, you’re hungry aren’t you? It’s okay, it’s okay…”

Still, no matter how much he tried to reassure his little one, Florence cried and squirmed in his father’s arms, his little balled up fists tap tap tapping against his forearm. As he tried again, Trent scoffed and Oliver swore he could hear him rolling his eyes.

“Give him here.” He said with a heavy sigh, placing his soothed daughter back into the crib she shared with her brother. “I’ll take care of it. Like I usually do.”

Immediately, Oliver moved away from his husband. “I can do this Trent.” He said through gritted teeth, an annoyed and angry look on his face. “Just give me some time, I can do this. I-I just need a little more time.”

Trent’s left eyebrow twitched and his lips pulled back into a thin line. “Oliver, seriously. I can feed him better than you can, so just let me do it!”

The rising argument caught the attention of the two pets that had been playing near the bed, Crumb and Morsel. The chain chomp had been hoping over the black-colored chao for a few good minutes, one of its favorite fruits hanging between its sharp teeth. Crumb stopped jumping when she heard the husbands’ voices rising, and it made Morsel bump into her. He yelled at her for a moment before he followed her gaze to the bed, his tired look replaced with a concerned one.

“No, please!” Oliver cried, fear creeping into his voice. “Trent, come on. We’re still new dads, I’m still not used to this! Just let me–”

“I thought you were practicing the things Whitespade told us to do while I was stuck on a hospital bed for the last ten days!” Trent yelled back. “I felt like I was dying all over again without my strength or energy! The least you could have been doing is practicing taking care of the twins!”

“I have been, I have been practicing almost every hour Trent!” Accordion shouted, trying not to drop the bottle or his son, but do his best to cover Florence’s ears. “I had to make sure Crumb and Morsel wouldn’t jump on them the moment I brought them back, I read every book the doctors gave us, I did my best! I always do my best for you and the twins!”

“And so am I, but clearly what you do isn’t enough! Whatever you’ve been doing has been pointless if you can’t even feed our kids properly! You’re just not doing enough, Oliver!”

Oliver stepped back, his eyes wide as the full effect of Trent’s words hit him like slamming into a brick wall. Tears filled his eyes as he looked down at Florence, who was still crying and whimpering softly, trying to reach out for the bottle in his hand that he was squeezing too tightly, like it was going to break at any moment.

Then, gently, Oliver passed Florence over to Trent’s waiting arms along with the formula, still intact in the plastic bottle. He didn’t notice how his son had immediately stopped making noise the moment he was placed in his other father’s arms, nor did he hear the subtle movement of Aurelia rolling over and pulling herself up to try and look at her dads and her brother. He was just focusing on trying to calm his breathing, trying to slow down his racing heart.

“Honestly Oliver, I already know you can feed the twins if I’m not around.” Trent said, his back slightly turned to him as he fed Florence his bottle. He sighed heavily, turning to look at him. “I just don’t understand why you need more time to do something you’re–”

Whatever the reason for why Trent stopped speaking, Oliver didn’t know and he didn’t care. He was already leaving the room as soon as Trent started to talk to him. As he did try to go, Crumb bounced over to him, barking and panting to get his attention. He ignored her, lips tightly shut as he grabbed his jacket and left the master bedroom. Trent called out his name several times, but he shut the door before he could hear another word from his husband.

Oliver took in a deep breath, shakily letting out as his tears finally fell down his face, staining the floor beneath him. “Why…why am I not good enough?” He thought to himself, holding his arms close to his body in some pathetic way to protect himself from the self-deprecating thoughts. “What can I do? What can I do to say I’m sorry for what I couldn’t do?”

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt his phone vibrate against his chest, making him and his heart jump up into his throat. It continued to vibrate as he fumbled to pull it out of his inside pocket, and saw that it was Kabbitz calling him.

He answered it, doing his best to hide the trembling in his voice. “H-Hello?”

“Oh thank gods you picked up! We need another guy with muscle for the mission we’re going on. Are you able to come?”

The Toppat looked down for a moment before looking at the closed door to his room, staying silent. Then, he swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Yeah, yeah I can come.” Accordion replied, pulling his hat down further. “Give me a few minutes, I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

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“I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t have gone.” Accordion muttered to himself, the memory now fading into the back of his mind but still sitting there like an uncomfortable reminder of everything wrong with him. The thought and the sounds of the bickering voices returning, like the sound being turned up on a radio, started to make him feel lightheaded. The urge to throw up was crawling up from his stomach to his throat, and he had to force himself to take steady deep breaths to try and stave off the feeling. Even trying to stand to get to his bathroom was an ordeal of itself, his feet planted on the floor as if someone had put super glue on them.

The haughty and rude voice laughed and whispered right into his ear. “What a horrible father you are, what a horrible husband you are! You ran away from your problems instead of facing them, like a real man would do. What you’re doing is very cold, Oliver. Just like what your mother would do.”

“No…No I wouldn’t….” he gasped out, the phone falling from his hands and onto the carpeted floor, notifications still going off as other messages still flooded the screen from concerned co-workers and friends. As he tried to focus, tried to grab onto anything to center himself, another memory surfaced from beneath the waters and grabbed him into a vice grip.

“Remember the fire that almost killed you both? The two of you could have escaped, but you didn’t. And why was that? Ah, yes. Another argument that you started between him and you.”

“No, no, please stop, please stop…”

“It is normal to argue sometimes! It’s not his fault–”

But the words of the worried and concerned voice couldn’t stop Accordion from remembering the sensations of that day. Although he couldn’t remember what they had been arguing about, he still remembers how heavy everything felt. The material of his shirt started itching at his skin, inflaming and tormenting his burn scars. The blazing heat of a fire that had changed his life forever resurfaced, grasping at his burnt flesh and digging their fiery ends into it. The air suddenly felt stifling, the smell of wood and concrete invading his nostrils, hitting him like a freight train. The nausea overwhelmed him and he felt the bile rise up into his throat, climbing faster and faster. The smoke from long ago found its way back to him and grabbed him by the neck, squeezing and squeezing and squeezing, dark fingers curled around his neck so tightly, his vision become dark and darker and–

“ARF!”

He gasped as he was hit from the side with such force, he almost fell off the chair he sat in. Accordion took in several deep breaths before he looked down at his feet. “Wha?”

Crumb barked up at him again, rubbing her head against his leg with a whine. Next to her, Morsel calmly walked over to where his phone laid and pushed it back towards him, looking up at his owner with its black pupils, narrowed in worry.

The Toppat looked down at the two creatures with some bewilderment before a thought came to him. “Oh…you must be hungry…y-yeah, hungry…” He said in a daze, the feelings of a fire long past leaving him for the time being. “I…I can do that…”

Before he stood up, he took in a deep breath and held it for a few seconds before letting it go. He did this a few more times until he felt his breathing had gone back to normal, reminding himself that he was not lying face first on a concrete floor, surrounded by debris that trapped him and his husband to an almost fiery death when they were younger. But even with that thought that should bring him some relief, he still felt tense, stiff, and too high strung. He still felt like something could go wrong right about now, or any second.

He looks down at his hands for a moment, his cold, metal, colorless prosthetics. He moved his fingers a little, testing to see if they were still moving, before looking up at the glass window that separated him from the black void of space. Accordion stared at himself in the glass window, looking at the image of a disheveled man who still woke up to do a mission that he should have never done in the first place. He looked away from his reflection and gazed out the window instead. The vast emptiness of space with its canvas covered with just a few brush strokes of pinks, oranges, and soft reds, speckles of sparkling white dotted the inky black canvas wherever it could, with Earth and its colours of blues, greens, whites and browns perfectly framed amongst the stars. It rotated slowly on its axis, keeping every person still walking and talking on that planet alive and breathing, with every step they took.

It all looked so peaceful. Outside where no noise could be heard, it was peaceful. On the space station, with people safe behind the metal walls and with each other, it was peaceful. Wherever he looked and wherever he went, those around him were happy and content with the lives they had. He knew he was in no danger, that he was safe and that no harm could come to him or his family and clan.

So why was it so hard to accept this peace that was given to him?

Slowly, he lifted his hand up and pressed his palm against the surface of the glass window. He doesn’t feel the cold hard glass underneath his metal fingers or palm, but he remembers the feeling instead. A feeling of sitting in a warm humid room during a harsh heatwave, the aircon blasting from one end of the room, and being able to reach out and touch a window, its surface chilled and cool against his skin. It makes him remember the feelings of warm sunny rays touching his arms and hands, a warm fire that caresses his skin with gentle touches. He could hold his hand up in the air, let his fingers run through the sun’s hair and feel content laying on a grassy field than he did at home. Or feelings of his hands plunging into icy, frigid rivers, a relief for when he was too hot, and let the shock of the cold run through his veins like a runner in a marathon, leaving behind goosebumps that rode up from his fingers to his shoulders, shivering in either fear or excitement from the shock–

When someone else held his hand and squeezed it firmly, reassurance passed on from one to another. The feeling of safety and love right there in that one single action, especially when he intertwined his fingers with his partner, his lover, his best friend; the warmth they cherished with him, foreheads pressed together as they shared that intimate moment–

“I wish I didn’t have to remember.” He mumbled loudly, the lump returning in his throat as his tears found their way to his eyes, sensing a break in the dam he had built so flimsily. He let out a shaky sigh, bringing his hand back so he could hold himself close, curl up as much as he could sitting down on the chair. “I wish I could feel it again…I wish I didn’t have to be so careful, I wish I said something else, I wish I did something different, I wish, I wish, I wish I wasn’t like this!”

“You can never have it back. You know you can’t, you must live with this–” “You think I don’t KNOW THAT?!” He yells at the meek voice in his head. He is angry that it has come back, disrupting what fragile peace had settled in his mind. Accordion grabs his head with both hands, clutching his hair too tightly as he lets out sobs that almost made him heave. “You don’t have to remind me! You don’t have to remind me that I’m a freak! That I just make too many mistakes, that I’m worthless! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’m just trying, I’m just trying to be what people want me to be!”

He doesn’t hear Crumb and Morsel slowly back away from him, nor does he feel the continuous vibration that grazes his foot before it stops when Morsel taps a button. Instead, he continues to cry and repeat the words to calm himself down. “Please, please, please! Just leave me alone, just leave me alone–”

“I will never leave you alone, Oliver. Do you think that just because you’re off planet means that you can escape my wrath?” The haughty voice turns sickly sweet, oozing with glee as it somehow grabs his chin and whispers into his ear, “You will never get rid of me, son. You will never have peace so as long as YOU allow me to stay in your life, even beyond death, I will make sure you know nothing but disgust for yourself. Disgust and dissatisfaction for everything that you are!”

“Stop, stop! Please, just be quiet–”

“Why are you even here?” His mother’s laugh makes his blood run cold to the point he thought his heart stopped beating. “Isn’t that something you ask yourself each and every day? Why are you still here in a clan full of people who see you but nothing as a meat shield? As someone to take blow after blow so they don’t get hurt themselves? You’re not respected, you’re not needed, and you are not loved at all! Everyone pities you because you can barely do anything right, like even feed your own damn kids properly! Everything you do is wrong. You are a disgrace, a mistake–”

“Don’t listen to her! Oliver, please–” “You can easily be replaced by the chief, your “family” can find someone else to replace you, your husband can find another man to fill the shoes you have.” Her maniacal laughter and words grip him tightly, squeezing every bit of tears that were pouring from his eyes. “You are nothing, Oliver Arc. You messed up with Trent, you messed up on the mission, and you messed up at being a good father. Face it–You’re better off killing yourself so you don’t have to think about how much you’re hurting those you love. They’ll forget about you as soon as you’re dead.”

Oliver sinks down in the plush chair he sat on, his whole body shaking and trembling as he tried to just be. What had once been an open invitation to rest his weary body and sink into the soft, comforting material to rest, he felt himself sinking deeper and deeper into an open grave, one that he dug himself for this very moment. His breathing became faster and faster and his heart beat beat beating so hard it would jump right out of his chest any second, he clutched at his chest to try and stop it but it made it worse with how hard he digs his nails into himself. His foot taps repeatedly against the floor he hunches over his knees with his hands pulling so hard on his hair that it cascades around him like a black curtain, hiding him from the world that he desperately wanted but now felt like it would banish deep into the depths below. The curtain pulled in more closing in with each rapid breath he takes, he takes and he takes he shuts his eyes his hands pull harder at his hair punishing for even thinking that he could matter that he could make a difference that he could help out at all but he only made things worse because no one really cared for him no one loved him he was just another person another tool for this clan he could be replaced with someone better better better at speaking better at talking better at everything else he could have done in his life he should just let the casket close its door over him and let him suffocate and stop him from breathing it was getting so hard to breathe breathe breathe he sobs and wails and cries because no one can hear him no one wanted him no one needed him no one loved him no one loved him no one cared she was right she was right she was right, I am nothing–

“OLIVER!”

His name being called shot through him, the archer hitting their mark with incredible speed.

His eyes snap open and he tries to breathe again, but he struggles to even move or to grab at his chest. He flails his arms, he screams, he tries to hit whatever is holding him down, pressing him into that underwater grave–

“Oliver, PLEASE SNAP OUT OF IT! You’re hurting yourself!”

He stops when he throws his left arm out and ends up hitting his elbow on hard wood. He lets out a pained cry and falls back onto the carpeted floor, curling up into a fetal position as he tries to comprehend what the hell was going on. Someone tries to pull him out of his shell and he snaps his head up, ready to scream and yell that they shouldn’t even bother–

Oliver freezes and hiccups. “T-Trent?”

Trent hovers above him, fresh tears running down his cheeks as he desperately clings onto his husband. “O-Oliver…” He starts before a sob escapes his own lips and he has to cover his mouth. “I-I was just c-coming back when I felt w-what you were feeling, I tried to c-call you and w-when you picked up, I-I heard you say those things and–”

The black haired man stared at Trent confused for a moment before he moved his head up. At the end of his body, by his feet, Morsel held his phone, with Crumb’s help, to show that Trent had indeed called him just a few minutes ago. In the past few minutes he was having a full-blown and harsh panic attack, he heard every scream and hateful thing he said about himself.

He could still hear Trent trying to say something to him, but a dull static noise filled his ears as he realized what had just happened. Oliver felt whatever energy he had drained away as he collapsed back onto the floor. The last thing he saw was Trent yelling for him and the door to the twins’ room fully opening, Echo and Jingle running towards him as fast as their little metal bodies could take them.

But the last thing he heard was Aurelia and Florence waking up, letting out shrill cries that pierced his heart and broke into the tiny pieces that floated down with him, into his unconscious, broken mind.

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Chapter two

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