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bluetorchsky · 4 months ago

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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…”

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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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