Chapter Text
So that’s that.
Breakfast was made and so was his mind.
Carefully he slipped away from the walls encasing him, if he were to be trapped for much longer than he’d panic and panic was something he would leave behind in this life. It was illogical to his plans.
He walked outside the walls and looked beyond the horizon, the beauty of the colors painting the sky he’d soon be falling from. The purples, the oranges, the pinks. They colors he’d see for the final time.
Time didn’t feel real anymore, it felt almost slower as if the time twins had appeared to freeze him in his mental agony forever, but he knew that wasn’t the case.
Zane knew this was him. The feeling that he wasn’t supposed to be there at that time, the feeling of being alone.
Perhaps when he’s let his body fall from the heights his mountain of regrets created his father would be there to catch him and only look at him with disappointment. And then he’d let him fall back into his bed to relive his torment again.
Just like a clock isn’t it? The hands fall and fall until they hit the 6th realization that he was a pathetic excuse for a robot, the beauty of creation wasted on such metallic bones like him.
Sure they may rise to the 12th sensation of acceptance, but this clock is broken. This clock is only correct twice a day: Alive and Dead.
As long as he grew farther and farther away from the people around him, the longer he’s be okay and eventually forgotten. A wish and it would all go away, and act and he wouldn’t be able to change anything he was about to do.
As he stood closer to the ledge his mind decided it would be the first to fail him even if was supposed to be the last.
Just like him. He was going to be the last after all his friends had passed from greater fates. Not like a fate he’d be committing to himself, but a fate he’d protect his friends from for years now.
He couldn’t think outside the would his mind was creating, a paradise of forever eternity where only he could exist and if he were to be the only on to exist than he’d be the only one to hurt himself.
His lungs expanded.
Then shriveled up trying to hug his heart where it was trying to collapse inside him. Like his legs under him were trying to do, but he should be the one throwing himself off, not his fear of his own self.
He could feel the cold air ripping at his skin, he could feel it stabbing at his ribs and tearing them layer of flesh by layer of flesh. The winds falling from his throat being taken by the spirits he wronged.
They would wander around him forever judging him as guilty, because that’s what he is. A man guilty of hurting so many people, now he’d hurt himself in a way not even the greatest of all mechanics could fix. He was just a body of spare parts wasn’t he?
His hands shook by his side as he thought he was surely going to fall over. He needed tk sit down before he passed out. Not again. No he was fine: he could just stand here and be fine.
He ignored how his breathes continued it get lost in the knot buried in his chest, a knot he could not seem to get rid of in fear his regrets would hang from it around everyone corner.
Zane could feel his body freak out. The tiring pain in his chest kept repeating, no oxygen was able to make its way into the chambers of his lungs as if they were being frozen with ice and slowing their abilities to work.
He let his hand rest on where his internal fan systems were, hot air blowing against his fingers, perhaps he cold rip out his core and run off as he slowly malfunctions. His father built it, nobody could remake such a thing; even Borg would have difficulty trying to understand the technology.
He was falling.
He was falling. He was falling. When did that happen?
When was he falling from the side of the temple? Fuck.
Fuck fuck fuck no when was he falling? Not again. No. This time he’d die and nobody would be there to stop him from falling to his inevitable fate, the cycle waiting tk he stopped but only to be placed on repeat.
He stopped.
He wanted to open his eyes but he couldn’t. He was afraid.
He was afraid.
Three words he could never admit to anyone around him even if he knew them or not.
“I gotcha buddy. Hang in there” he heard a voice from the distance. Distance? Was he still falling? Failing? Maybe that was what he was thinking, his body was failing not falling. That would explain everything.
He didn’t understand. Maybe he couldn’t understand, he was far to confused for even a single wire, resistor, or LED to work correctly.
He felt the urge to run from whatever hands landed on his arms. Them his body told him they were hands like vex only trying to control and take advantage of him. He needed to protect himself and jump off to freedom.
He heard multiple voices telling him to calm down and some trying to get him to focus on something else. But he couldn’t understand them for the most part.
The words came in jumbled to his brain, it was far too much effort to decode such nonsense trying to heal his mental wounds.
A pair of arms wrapped around him from behind compressing his arms against the others, he couldn’t move. He couldn’t move anymore and they were going to erase his memories again.
He heard yells. Were they from him or from the world around him? They might have even been from the realm far far away, but not far enough from keeping the memories out of his head.
Danger. His panicked mind finally came to the conclusion that he was in danger and needed to run still, but he couldn’t.
Some of his body’s sensation returned but not as his, the arm being taken away from his hand didn’t feel like his hand, he dropped his other hand on his leg, flinching away once more. That didn’t feel like his hand. This wasn’t his body.
He let his head fall against what ever surface was behind him, oh. He was still being hugged by those around him. Hugs. Hugs weren’t threatening.
He didn’t dese-
It wasn’t his fault.
Tears ran down his face.
This wasn’t his fault.
His chest stuttered with every attempted breath of air.
He wasn’t going to die.
Blood dried against his skin.
He was home with his friends.
He let himself curl into the grasp of his friends, his friends that he’d miss far to much to just leave, they were family. This was his family, he needed to protect them and if he were dead who would be there?
Even if it still hurt to remember a bruise would always hurt to press. A scar could always reopen with the wrong movements. A memory can still impact his mind as a whole.
“We won’t let you hurt any longer Zane. We can heal together”.
We can heal together.