#like. it actually really kinda fucksucks right now

[neverpathia]

okay guys

so this is for a kinda art trade with @everestgale as i've said before i think

but like

i actually have no idea how well i did on this piece tbh. not one of my best works. but whatever, it's here now. yay.

-- -- -- -- --

He was there. And he was also there. And he was there, and there, and there.

Too many incarnations, scattered across too many lifetimes. Littered with too many wrong choices, wasted chances, horrible consequences, painful deaths. Too much pain, too many scars, borne by himself as well as everyone else. Physical. Emotional. Everywhere—

"Hero?" He was shaken out of his stupor by the voice of a companion. The Paranoid. Yes, the Hero was in the infirmary right now. Okay. Right.

Hero looked up from where he sat on the windowsill and blinked.

The afternoon sun-rays fell about him, surrounding Hero with daylight. His sword lay against the wall, propped on the floor beside him. Across from his seat, Paranoid was hunched over a cluttered workbench, tinkering with herbs and concoctions.

She turned abruptly as she shot Hero a concerned glance. "You spaced out for a second."

"Uh..." Hero clutched at the curtain. "Nope. Carry on with whatever you were doing."

Paranoid shook her head and muttered something that sounded an awful lot like "Idiot."

"What?" Hero tried to look as innocent as he could muster.

Paranoid went back to her work, but she only partially turned her attention away from Hero. "You're not convincing me."

"You're only being...paranoid." He offered her an awkward grin.

Paranoid rolled her eyes as she poured some sort of mixture into an uncorked vial. "Fine, I'll trust you. Only a little. For now."

I'll trust you. And from Paranoid, of all people. Hero wanted to laugh.

Hero leaned back against the glass panes. They were warm, almost scalding. He observed Paranoid as she worked, her slender frame bent over the desk in concentration. The apothecary's gloved hands moved to and fro, passing between her crammed shelves and teetering beakers, calculated and frantic. Shaky. Unstable.

She had become like that because of Hero. Of what he had failed to prevent. And then the memories came again: a flickering figure, a porcelain mask, gloved hands and unblinking eyes. That was one of them, only one of the many...

His fault. Another fault. And another mistake, another, another. It could've been averted every single time. But it wasn't. It all swirled around him, amidst him, each sight and step and sound a new reminder. Nails and heels. Claws and fangs. He was only a false Hero, one who tried to save everything but only doomed and doomed and—

"Breathe. You need to breathe."

Memory faded. Presence returned. Paranoid had left her workbench and now crouched some distance from Hero, leaning as a doctor would by a patient's bedside, yet just a bit too far from reach.

"What..." Hero shook his head, somewhat dazed. He noticed a bit of shattered glass on the floor, with what used to be its contents spilling across the table.

Shit.

"Uh." Hero gestured to the mess. "Someone should go clean that-"

"You were hyperventilating." Paranoid's gaze darted back and forth, as if she couldn't decide if eye contact would be okay. She stared with wide, nervous eyes. Her stance was tense.

Hero shifted on the windowsill, sheepish. "Sorry about that."

"You-" Paranoid fidgeted hard with the hem of her own tattered cloak, twisting and squeezing. "Don't apologise. That can't be okay. You're thinking of something. First you were spaced out, and lost in your head, and then after a while you zoned out again."

Hero sighed. "Nothing's wrong. It's just...been a long day."

"And I'm not buying that. Something's wrong, alright."

Hero looked away. "We don't need to talk about it, at least not right now."

Paranoid paused. She clawed feverishly at the cloak before instantly, abruptly, letting go.

And she gave a sudden laugh, nervous and pained. "Hahaha. That's what I say. That- that's what I always say. Don't think about it. Not now, not ever. Just don't. Just don't."

Then her smile faded. "But then it doesn't go away. It comes back and it just stays there. Nagging. Insistent. Worse. So don't give me that shit, Hero, and just tell me."

Hero hesitated. "I don't know about that." He really didn't want to think about it, and he definitely didn't want to bother Paranoid any longer.

Paranoid rolled her eyes. "You do realise that not telling me is just going to make me worry about you more, right?"

Hero was silent for another moment. How stupid of him. To have this breakdown here, in the same room as a friend, as if Paranoid would simply have allowed herself to ignore it. To be led along the same train of thought as ever.

Paranoid sighed. "I could say that I care about you, but that's just going to make it worse, isn't it?"

Hero tried for a smile. "No, it wouldn't."

Paranoid buried her face in her hands. "Oh, for fuck's sake..."

Hero considered for a moment. They were close, after all. How much would Paranoid mind if he confided?

Actually, he didn't want to know.

Paranoid began to fidget again. "Okay. Let's look at this another way. Let's say I'm the one panicking—fuck, I'm always the one panicking—and you were watching it happen. Wouldn't you ask me to tell you what I'm feeling? Wouldn't you try to comfort me?"

Hero avoided looking at her. "I don't know," he admitted. "It's different. I'm supposed to be the one who's okay."

Paranoid facepalmed. "I- ...Fine. Let's just say I care for you. I really do."

Hero didn't meet her eyes. "I know."

"You probably feel like a burden right now. I promise you're not! Really. Doesn't it hurt? Isn't it hard, keeping all that to yourself, locking it all up? Tell someone. Tell me. It would help."

Hero did not respond.

"And I wish I did know, even if you don't. Just...please tell me. If you can."

Silence at first. Then, finally, Hero spoke. "I'm just so tired."

Paranoid didn't interrupt. She only tilted her head ever so slightly as she let him go on; as she simply listened.

"It's like I'm a liar. A fraud." It came slow at first. The words were forced out. But as soon as Hero had said them, it was like something had burst, and it just needed to be released.

"A hero. That's what you all call me. That's supposed to be my name, who I am." Hero looked down at his hands, at all the faint yet present scars criss-crossing across them. "But what kind of hero am I if I can't save anyone? You know the past. I was there with the Decider, with all of you, every single time. And I could have said something. I could have taken control. I could have...done anything."

Tears began to well up at the corners of Hero's eyes. He looked up, desperate to prevent them from flowing down. "Look at everyone. Look at you. You and Broken and Hunted and Cheated and even Contrarian. You're all so hurt. And if I had just done the right things, you wouldn't even be like this. But I didn't. I...let you become like this.

"And I said things. I turned the Princess into this, into that, into everything at once. It never stopped, never stops now. It's there all the time. Too many memories. I don't want it anymore. I just want to forget. I just want to forget."

He couldn't stop the tears from coming. They broke away. They rolled down. They fell onto his legs. Onto the windowsill. Onto the ground. Little splatters, unguarded, unrestrained; like everything he had never done.

Paranoid's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. And she nodded. And she didn't look away, but she didn't look ahead either; she simply stared in his general direction without staring at him.

She was listening. He was relieved. He was concerned. He was too fatigued to care.

"Can you tell me I'm okay?" Hero asked. "It's...going to be fine, right?"

"No." Paranoid kept her voice soft. "This isn't something logical. I can tell you a million things you did right but it still wouldn't be enough."

Hero gave a weak smile. "Just tell me anyway. It might help, I don't know."

She barely hesitated before speaking. "You've been here since the start. You know all of us, and you're the only one who can comfort us most of the time. And even before all this, you...You were always the voice of reason. The most normal, or at least you forced yourself to be. That's admirable. I don't know how you did it."

Hero tried to feel better. The words did ease him a little. But Paranoid was right, it wasn't enough. He was just doing his duty. It was his obligation. And he had still done too little of it.

Paranoid wrapped her arms around herself, rocking back and forth, back and forth. Still anxious as ever. "I love you for it. But that doesn't mean jack shit. I could list a hundred rights, and one wrong would still be so much worse."

Hero attempted to force a smile again. "I can deal with it. I can—"

"Are you so sure you can?" Paranoid rose as she stepped forward, closing the distance. "Or are you just lying to yourself?"

He stopped. The memories came again. It did hurt. It hurt too much.

"Maybe." Hero slumped. "Can you get something for it, like medicine or anything? You always have something for everything."

Paranoid laughed bitterly. "I wish. Maybe for the short-term, yes. Something to dull it for a while. But you can't avoid it forever."

The resignation in her face told Hero everything. Of course he couldn't just escape. She would know.

She shot him a glance as she walked over to another corner of the room. "I'll get a couple of pills for you. Maybe some tea as we speak."

Hero stayed where he was. He tried to wipe the tears from his cheeks, a bit embarrassed. "Alright."

He scooted along the window and tried to hide into the curtains as Paranoid retrieved something from a drawer. She turned and caught a glimpse of whatever he was doing, the curtains barely covering his bulky frame. She frowned.

"Hero?" Paranoid seemed rather disappointed. "What the fuck are you doing?"

He grinned bashfully, more genuine this time. "Uh, nothing."

"Idiot." This one was clear enough.

He actually laughed a little. "Hey, just carry on."

And she did, pouring something into a cup as she muttered and mumbled to herself. Hero contemplated. At least this was nice. The sun filtering in behind him, the organized clutter of the infirmary, and the company of a friend. Even if the friend was a little strange.

She returned with a cup and saucer in one hand, clutching a small pouch with a few pills inside in the other. "These are for later, six o'clock sharp."

He took the pouch from her. "What's in here?"

"A bit of my own medication diluted with something else." She sat on the floor beside him, setting the cup down on the windowsill next to his thigh.

Hero gaped. "Seriously?"

"Remember to tell me if you experience any side effects—"

"No. Hold on." He stared blankly at Paranoid, her demeanour unsteady and frazzled. "You're medicated?"

"So I've worked with medicines for as long as I can remember, and I wouldn't have enough sense to do something about myself. That makes a lot of sense, Hero."

"What the- This is after mental treatment?"

Paranoid shrank back, comically offended. "Does it still seem that bad?!"

Hero laughed again as he stuffed the pills in his pocket. "Still pretty bad."

Paranoid smiled. "Hey, as if you're not bad either. It does help, trust me on this."

And then the moment was over.

"How much does it work?" Hero asked. The turmoil threatened at him again. Coiling and churning and crossing the edges of his brain. Knocking against his temples. About to rupture against it all.

"It should be enough for now, but—"

"Please," Hero whispered at first, unaware as he did, but his voice rose steadily as he spoke, louder and louder. "Can it all just stop? I want it to stop. The expectations, the guilt. Make it stop. Please make it stop! Please, I can't do this anymore!"

Paranoid averted her eyes.

"I...want it to stop too. Hahaha." Her laugh was desperate, and yearning, and pleading. "But it won't."

Hero heaved a long sigh. There was more silence.

Paranoid extended a hand, and he took it. And for one moment, they remained like that.

Sitting still.

Holding hands.

"So..." Hero broke the silence. "Just like that?"

Paranoid gave his hand a squeeze. "All we can do is live, I guess. Or try to live."

"At least you're here."

"...Yeah." She looked up, finally meeting his eyes. "At least...at least we're not alone."

And there was hope.