Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There was a soft breeze outside, and the trees swayed slightly with the wind. It was a normal summer night in Crossroads, and the moon shone brightly in the star-filled sky. Rocket stared out the window of his bedroom, a blank expression on his face. Oftentimes, when he was unable to sleep, Rocket would curl up on the window seat across from his bed and stare out into the night sky, filled with the bright lights of Crossroads, a harsh glow from all of the buildings and such. Although it was cold that night, even for summer, Rocket didn’t mind. The fresh air had always calmed him when he couldn’t sleep. Although sometimes, it wasn’t enough. Rocket struggled a fair bit when it came to caring for himself, even though he was a caring person, especially to Zuka and Sword. But he just couldn’t seem to do it for himself. Quite the opposite, actually. Usually when Rocket couldn’t sleep it was because of, well…back then. Although he had tried hard to bury those memories deep in his mind, they always managed to worm their way back to the top. Rocket hoped that one day, they would go away, but in the back of his mind he knew they wouldn’t. They would always be a part of him. A part of him he could never get rid of, nor forget. They would always be there, taunting him, torturing him until he would give up. 

Rocket had long since lost his ability to fight the thoughts in his head. At first he had thought they would go away. Just a couple more days and they’ll go away… Rocket had told himself, and yet the thoughts never did. And eventually, he got tired of fighting them. Oh, it would be so much easier just to give up already, to give in to his intrusive thoughts, once again. Rocket sighed as he stood from his seat. The moon illuminated his entire bedroom, casting an almost blue ray of light across his floor. Rocket had already given up on himself, and in no way thought he could ever recover, thus leading to more of his relentless self destruction. Rocket took the small blade off his desk, its sharp edge almost glowing with the moonlight. He dragged the blade across his arm in an attempt to silence his thoughts, though it was not enough, as per usual. It was never enough. And it never will be enough.

Rocket could feel his eyelids getting heavy, it was late into the night by now. In fact, it was probably early morning when Rocket finally went to tend to his wounds and tuck himself into bed. He didn’t sleep very well that night, although that was what happened most nights anyways. Not like it was anything new to him. 

…

Rocket opened his mouth to let out a yawn when he glanced over at his wounded arm, now wrapped with pristine white bandages, although they had since mostly turned to a deep red color due to the many cuts on his arm. By now he thought it was nearly impossible that he could even show the slightest amount of improvement with his mental health. Let alone tell someone about what he was doing. They’d probably just think he was crazy or something. Rocket was sure they wouldn’t be understanding, it wasn’t like they had been through what he had, anyways… 

A slight breeze brushed across Rocket's face as he turned towards the window, realizing he had left it open the whole night. He sighed. It was going to be yet another long day of nothingness. 

Rocket lazily got out of his bed to close the window, glancing outside to see the sky illuminated by the sun that was just peeking through the skyline. What a beautiful day, Rocket thought to himself, although his mood quickly shifted as more thoughts came to his mind. Not like I would be able to get myself outside anyways… Rocket slammed the window shut before walking back to his bed to go lie down some more. Not like there was really anything else to do, Rocket hadn’t left the house in weeks.Hell, he had barely even left his room. The only time he would leave was for food or going to the bathroom. And it had been that way for a while. He had just assumed everyone had given up on him by now, once they realized that he would just continue to self-destruct even after they tried to help… Rocket was certain they would leave. To be honest, he was hoping they would stop caring, so he wouldn’t have to carry the burden of knowing that people were worried about him. It sickened him to think about Zuka and Sword … caring about him? Rocket hoped they would soon realize there was nothing that could help him get better. There was just no way, he was already too far gone; too lost in his thoughts to ever think about returning to what he thought of as “normal”. No, it was already too late.

A quiet ding came from Rocket's phone, startling him a bit, before he picked it up to see his notification. It was Sword. Rocket wished Sword would just give up on him already, but it didn’t seem like that was happening any time soon. Sword continued to text him every day, even though Rocket couldn’t bring himself to respond. Sword had tried to visit Rocket multiple times now, but he had always entered the apartment to see that Rocket's door was locked yet again. Rocket didn’t want Sword to see him like that, he couldn’t give anyone so much as a hint about what he was doing to himself. Zuka was really worried about Rocket, but whenever he tried to ask him what was going on, Rocket would just brush off the question and say he was “fine”, even though he clearly wasn’t. Zuka could tell that Rocket had been acting …off for a while now, but Rocket was being quite secretive about what was going on. Although that wasn’t unlike him, considering he hadn’t told Zuka he was dating Sword until he accidentally walked in on the two kissing. However, Zuka could still tell something was off about Rocket. 

…

It was mid July by now, and the summer heat was at its worst. Yet Rocket still came out of his room wearing the same blue hoodie, every day. And it continued like that for quite some time. As August rolled around, Rocket had felt like he had lost himself completely. Every day was the same to him, but he had done this to himself, hadn’t he? Yes, it was his fault. It's all his fault. Rocket felt like his life was out of control, he felt out of control, and he couldn’t stand the thought of being powerless to himself. And yet, for some horrible reason, Rocket felt like he could stay “in control” by hurting himself. It gave him a sense of “power” over his life. Well, not like his life was worth much now, but he felt like just as long as he continued to self destruct, he would be fine. It will all be fine, he had told himself. 

And sure, it was “fine” for a while, until that one night. The night he couldn’t hide it anymore. 

Rocket had sat on the edge of his bed, the moon’s light illuminating his bedroom. He stared at his wrist, now littered with pale blue scars. He felt a sort of self loathing burn in his chest for doing such things to himself. Even though he felt it was the only way to rid his mind of its intrusive thoughts, he wished, in a way, that his scars would vanish, so no one had to know. But they were a part of him now, forever. Rocket stared at the blade in his right hand, inspecting it as it reflected the moon’s light. No matter how hard he wished, his scars would never go away …so what was the point now anyways? Rocket glanced back at his left arm. If my scars just up and vanished, there wouldn’t be any proof of this. Why do I even need “proof” of it anyways…? I guess there would be no evidence of any of this happening then. Swords, why do I need validation? Isn’t that just attention seeking, to want people to notice? Rocket felt a twinge of guilt, the familiar tug in his stomach. Oh, he was so horrible for doing this to himself. Making the people who cared about him worry. And suddenly, it was all too much for Rocket to handle. In an attempt to silence his thoughts, Rocket dragged the small blade across his forearm, but it wasn’t enough. Why wasn’t it enough? Rocket was beginning to hyperventilate, he couldn’t take it anymore. Why wouldn’t his thoughts just leave him alone? 

Again, Rocket dragged the blade against his already scarred skin.. but something was off. 

Wounds shouldn’t be bubbly and yellow.

Why was it so deep…? Rocket had always made sure his cuts were manageable so no one would have to know, but… something was wrong. Like really wrong. Rocket started to panic, his mind racing, trying to figure out what to do next. But in the back of his mind he knew this wasn’t something he could just handle on his own. After doing the best he could to bandage his wounds, he reluctantly opened his bedroom door. For some odd reason, Rocket's arm didn’t really hurt. Perhaps he was in shock, or his pain tolerance had gotten higher. And with that, Rocket opened the door to Zuka’s bedroom, guilt and shame and regret circling his mind. 

“Kid? What are you doing up so late?” Zuka rubbed his eyes as he sat up from his bed to find Rocket standing in the doorway, tears running down his face as he clutched his left arm. It seemed to be covered in …bandages. A small sniffle escaped Rocket's mouth as Zuka's expression turned from confusion to concern.

“Rocket… what’s going on?” Zuka got out of his bed and walked hurriedly over to where Rocket was standing in the doorway. Upon closer inspection, Zuka could see that the bandage on Rocket's arm was stained with blood. Presumably, Rockets blood. Rocket just stood there, motionless as tears streamed down his face. 

“Rocket, what happened?” Rocket tried to force himself to talk between his sobs, but he could hardly bring himself to. It left such a horrible feeling of guilt in him, making Zuka worry. 

“Uh….I-…” Zuka stared down at Rocket, still concerned. Rocket paused for a second before giving up. He told Zuka everything. Everything. From his nightmares about the playground, to lying in bed the whole summer, to almost killing himself. After that, Zuka brought Rocket into a tight, one-armed hug. Rocket was glad his dad didn’t think he was crazy or something, but he also felt ashamed for telling his father such things. He didn’t like making people worry. 

“Kid… I’m so sorry you had to go through that…” Rocket continued to sob uncontrollably. “I’m going to call Medkit, okay?” 

Rocket gave a slight nod as he buried his face in Zuka’s shoulder. Zuka brought Rocket over to the kitchen and grabbed his phone to call Medkit. Hopefully, he was awake, even at this hour. The phone rang for a while until someone picked it up, but to Zuka’s surprise, it was Sword who answered the phone.

“Hey Zuka, sorry, Medkits asleep right now, what are ya calling for?” Zuka paused for a second before making up his mind 

“Hey Sword. I need you to wake up Medkit, it’s urgent. Tell him to come over to my apartment, and to bring his gear too.” Sword was taken aback by what Zuka had just said to him and slight concern filled his tone when he responded. 

“O-ok, I’ll go wake him up now…” Zuka let out a sigh of relief as he hung up the phone and turned to Rocket who was sitting at the kitchen counter, still clutching his arm. Rocket felt dizzy from hyperventilating so much, and he almost felt as if none of it was real. It couldn’t possibly be, right? He would just wake up and go back to doing the same things he always did. Zuka wrapped his arm around Rocket, hugging him until there was a sharp knock heard at the door, certainly Medkit. Zuka rushed over and quickly pulled the door open, and to his surprise, Sword was there too. That would’ve made sense, he thought, considering he was the one who called, only meaning that something was wrong with Rocket. 

“Zuka, what happened to Rocket?” Medkit asked, worry laced in his tone. 

“I..uh listen, something’s been going on with him and he uh… he cut himself. Deep.” Zuka forced the words out of his mouth, as hard to believe as they were.

“Alright, he’ll probably need stitches then.” Medkit sighed but he was still worried, because “deep” can be considered as many different things. Zuka closed the door behind Sword and Medkit, as Sword rushed over to Rocket, bringing him into a tight embrace. Rocket tried to stifle his sobs but ultimately ended up failing, still clutching his arm tightly, almost as if he tried hard enough to make himself forget everything, it would go away. All of it. 

Rocket felt so horrible, so horrible for letting Sword see him like this. His vision was blurry from tears and he could hardly hear what anyone was saying over his racing thoughts. His mind and body felt numb to the rest of the world. He could feel someone holding his hand tightly, probably Sword. And someone was taking the bandage off his arm but at this point he was too tired and stressed to figure out what was going on. Rocket was lost in his thoughts for quite some time, not taking in any of his surroundings. He could hear someone calling his name though… Sword? His vision was blank, just pitch black nothingness. Well there was no way he was dead but his eyes didn’t want to open just yet. Sword was yelling his name louder this time until Rocket finally snapped out of his spiraling to find himself on the living room couch surrounded by Medkit and Sword and Zuka. But all Rocket could feel was guilt. Guilt and shame and regret and hate. He hated himself for making them worry about him. Maybe he should’ve just not said anything and left himself to bleed to death in his room. 

“Rocket…are you awake now?” This time, Rocket really did snap out of his thoughts, and as he sat up he glanced at his left arm, now wrapped with bandages. Everything felt numb. Medkit let out a sigh before hesitantly telling Rocket what happened. 

“Rocket, your wound was really deep so I had to give you stitches ok? Listen, this is serious so you need to make sure you take care of your arm or else it could get infected.” Rocket wasn’t really in shock any more, and the gravity of the situation was starting to hit him. Sword was still holding Rocket's hand, gripping it so tightly almost as if he let go of it, Rocket would disappear. The blue horned inphernal could see Medkit standing in front of him and Zuka sitting next to him on the couch. But Rocket just sat there silently. Staring into blank space.

Oh how he wished it was a dream. 

Just a dream.

Rocket awoke to the sound of birds chirping outside his window, the trees swaying gently with the breeze as the sun shone through the cloud filled sky. Rocket sat up in his bed glancing around his room confused. He could barely remember the previous night's events until he was hit by a sharp pain in his arm. By now the adrenaline had certainly worn off, and Rocket's arm hurt like hell. How deep had he gone? Probably best that I don’t know how bad it was… 

After getting out of bed and putting on his favorite blue hoodie (the one he always wore) Rocket quietly padded down the hall and stairs to find Zuka sitting at the kitchen counter, drinking his morning coffee. After hearing Rocket come down the stairs, Zuka glanced over at him. Rocket looked pretty tired, his hair was messy and he had bags under his eyes; although he had been like that for a while now. In a way Zuka regretted not trying harder to help Rocket, if he had, maybe he could’ve avoided all of this. 

“Morning, dad.” Rocket said tiredly after letting out a yawn, then walked over to where Zuka was sitting in the kitchen. 

“Morning, Kid, how’s your arm?” Zuka noticed Rocket was still clutching his left arm even though it had been some time since medkit had fixed it up. Rocket just stood there for a bit before answering quietly 

“Uh…it still hurts a lot, I guess…” Rocket laid his head on the kitchen counter, the marble was cool and it made Rocket feel less numb than he had before. He wasn’t sure he liked that, though. 

“Yeah, Medkit said that’s normal considering how bad that wound was, but I can get you some ibuprofen if you want.” Rocket nodded his head and Zuka went off to the bathroom to get the pain meds. Rocket sat up and stared at his arm, wincing a little as he was hit by a sharp pain that shot through his arm and echoed into the rest of his body. In a way Rocket was scared of himself, scared of how he knew just how much damage he could do. Almost as if he wouldn’t be able to control himself. Just then Zuka came back into the kitchen and handed Rocket the ibuprofen and a glass of water.

“Here, kid, hopefully that’ll help with the pain…” Rocket could tell Zuka was trying to stay positive, but it was easy to tell how much he was hurting. Rocket felt that familiar sense of guilt in his stomach. Oh, how he regretted everything so much, how he wished he had just been more careful instead of letting his thoughts take over. Now he couldn’t hide it anymore. Swords, he really was just a piece of shit, wasn’t he? He was shitty for slipping up his cuts and almost killing himself, and he was shitty for making everyone else worry about him. Because felt he didn’t deserve their help. Rocket took the ibuprofen, but he told himself he wouldn’t take anymore after that. It had only been 10 hours or so since the last time Rocket had done, well… that to himself, and yet he was already getting that horrible feeling that he needed to do it again. The thoughts scratched at Rocket's mind as he covered his face with his hands. Zuka had taken all his blades away. It was nice of him to try, but Rocket had backups, anyways, although the thing he couldn’t risk was his dad finding those. Hell, he just didn’t want his dad to know. He had already made everyone around him suffer enough. So, the easiest way he could get rid of the thoughts was not taking the pain medication. That way he could suffer quietly. No one would have to know.

…

Chapter Text

A couple hours later, there was a knock on the door. Rocket walked over to it, confused as to why someone would be there. Upon opening the door, however, Rocket saw Sword standing in front of him. Sword looked a little anxious as he fidgeted with his hands awkwardly.

“Uh.. hey, Rocket, I just wanted to check on you, how are you doin’..?” Rocket was silent as he stared at the floor, he didn’t want everyone to keep asking how he was doing. It made him feel like a burden on them. but at the same time, not answering their questions probably gave the same effect anyways. Rocket reluctantly answered, but he didn’t want to talk standing in the doorway, and especially not with his dad around. Rocket had already stressed Zuka out enough with what he had done the previous night. 

“Would it be okay if we talked in my room?” Rocket asked hesitantly. Sword gave a slight nod and they walked up the stairs to his bedroom. Rocket closed the door behind them and walked over to his bed where Sword was sitting. Rocket leaned on his shoulder. He had tried to put up a facade after the previous night's events, and he didn’t want everyone to worry more than they already were, so he figured it was best he kept the thoughts to himself. But he just couldn’t anymore. It was too much and he couldn’t take it. Rocket let out a small sob, quickly followed by more as tears streamed down his face. By then, Sword was hugging Rocket tightly, and although that added some sense of comfort, it wasn’t enough to stop him from completely breaking down in Sword's arms. The two of them sat like that for a while, Rocket crying while Sword tried to calm him down.

Eventually, Rockets sobs started to subside, and the room was quiet except for the faint sound of cars driving by outside. 

“Rocket?” Sword asked, a bit worried. “Do you want to talk now…?” He tilted his head a bit to the side in a questioning manner. 

“Uh… yeah I think so…” Rocket responded, a bit nervous as he flopped down on his bed. 

“Okay, well, you can start talking whenever you’re ready.” Sword said as he moved to sit next to Rocket. After a bit of contemplation, the rocketeer decided that it was for the better that Sword knew everything. And anyways, it’s not like he could keep much of those things secret anymore… 

“Okay, well… uh, do you remember when we first met?” Rocket asked after letting out a small sigh. Sword nodded his head in agreement, and Rocket continued on with what he was saying. 

“So, I guess I’ve never told you this, but, uh…” Rocket paused for a second before continuing. “… I’ve been… doing this stuff to myself since even before we met.” Rocket gestured to his left arm almost in a sarcastic manner, which worried Sword a bit, seeing how it was now clear what Rocket thought of himself to be doing such things. 

“But, uh, I never really wanted to tell you, because I thought you’d leave me and… honestly you and my dad being here for me is probably the only reason I’m still alive…” Rocket had a faint smile on his face as he looked up at Sword, though it seemed forced. Sword knew that, of course. Just because you ask for help and receive it doesn’t mean you’re immediately fixed. It seemed like Rocket felt as if that’s what he was supposed to be doing. Rocket sat up and moved to the edge of the bed before continuing. 

“… I just… I don't understand… Why am I not better? Why the do I still feel the same as always?! I thought I would get better. If I’m just gonna be like this for the rest of my life, is there even a point?” Rocket covered his face with his hands in anger and disappointment. His eyes were beginning to tear up again. Sword brushed away a piece of hair covering Rocket's face and rested his hands on the other’s shoulder. 

“Listen, Rocket.. I know things are bad for you right now, but please keep going, recovery isn’t always a linear path and no one is expecting you to make an immediate recovery. You’ve been through a lot, and it’s ok to give yourself time to heal… just remember that, please?” 

“Okay… I’ll try.” Rocket answered, giving a slight nod. 

“Thanks, Rock.” Sword said, after bringing him into yet another bone crushing hug. Rocket couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. To be honest, he hadn't remembered the last time he had genuinely laughed, but he was happy he had. It was nice to have a bit of happiness, and even if small, it was better than nothing. 

After that talk with Sword, Rocket held onto that moment like his life depended on it. Sword had always managed to make Rocket laugh. No matter how bad he was feeling, the other always managed to bring a smile to his face. Rocket was so grateful he had Sword and Zuka by his side. He honestly didn’t know what he would do without them. Over time, Rocket was able to pull himself out of his depression, with the help of Sword and Zuka, of course. He even found a therapist. Although it took a while, Rocket felt he was on the right track, and things looked like they were getting better.

He just hoped it would stay that way.

Chapter Text

‘Why do you care so much, Sword?’  

It was late into the night. Rocket laid on his bed, but he just couldn’t seem to fall asleep. His mind was too busy reminding him of things he didn’t want to think about, digging up old memories he had sworn to forget..and yet never did. Why wouldn’t his mind just listen to him? 

Rocket sighed, sitting up and reaching for his phone on the nightstand next to his bed. His phone would be a good enough distraction from his racing mind, right? Yes, it would be fine he wouldn’t have to do anything else that night. Rocket started scrolling through all the photos he had taken of him and Sword, going all the way back to when they first met. Those were nice memories. Back when Rocket was a little younger, only a year after him moving to crossroads with Zuka. Rocket was mostly on his own, and other than his dad he didn’t really have anyone else. He didn’t really have anything to do either, leaving him alone sitting in his room on most days. At first, he was ok with that, at least he had gotten out of Playground, right? But with nothing to distract himself from the previous years, his mental health quickly started to deteriorate. Although Zuka tried to help him, there wasn’t really much he could do. Zuka didn’t know how to help him, and Rocket just got worse. Besides, the Playground days were probably the lowest point in Rocket’s life. Nothing to do but lay on his bed and stare at the ceiling, quite similar to what he was doing now. 

Rocket noticed a sudden gap in the photos. Although he had been quite depressed over those past months, he had still taken photos or at least saved random memes from the internet. But for a whole month? Nothing. Huh, I guess that’s when it started. He didn’t particularly like to go deep into his photo library, because it would usually end up reminding him of things he had wanted to forget. Not this time, though. It was almost as if he didn’t care what memories were brought back up… he used to do that a while ago too. Around that time was also when he met Sword. Zuka had convinced Rocket to go to a cafe, and even though he protested, he was eventually bribed into it when his father told him he could get a pastry. 

Rocket didn’t really care about getting a pastry, and he would really rather just stay in his room, but he didn’t think his father would let him stay anyways. Considering Zuka had seen Rocket getting worse, the least he could do was try to get him outside. When they arrived at the cafe, Zuka got him and Rocket a table, and while Rocket waited in line to order, a stranger bumped into him. And, Sword being the nice person he was, apologized, but then immediately tried to start a conversation. Although Rocket wasn’t particularly talkative with people, he didn’t mind, this inphernal seemed nice anyways.

Sword was usually talkative with everyone, even complete strangers. He was never really able to hold the conversation, but since Rocket didn’t mind, Sword found it was nice to have a longer conversation than he usually did. He had plenty of friends, but that didn’t stop him from trying to make new ones, and on that day he went to the cafe and met Rocket. Sword liked that Rocket actually listened to him yap about some random thing, while Rocket liked that someone other than Zuka was finally talking to him.

Out of the blue, Rocket asked Sword for his phone number (and then shortly thereafter realized how weird that sounded coming from someone who was basically a stranger), but Sword quickly pulled out his phone. He didn’t seem to care that someone he had just met had asked for his number. Over the next few weeks, Sword and Rocket talked a lot, mostly over text, but sometimes in person. It was weird for them to get so close so fast, but the truth was that although Sword had many friends, he wasn’t really that social with them and didn’t exactly have anyone who he could really trust. Rocket didn’t really know that until Sword had told him one day when they had gone out to the park.

For a while Rocket had just thought Sword was just..pitying him, or something. Even though that’s what he had thought for so long, he didn’t really care anyways, he was just happy to have another person to talk to. A couple months later, Rocket's friendship with Sword had gotten stronger, and he realized he might have a crush on Sword… but he pushed that to the back of his mind, he could think about that later; right now his friendship with Sword was too precious to even slightly endanger.

A loud crash sounded, pulling Rocket from his memories. Probably just a raccoon or something, he thought to himself. Rocket then realized; he had been sitting in his bed on his phone for a good 40 minutes or so, and with reality bringing him out of thinking about the past he realized it was almost 12am.

Rocket wished he could just go to sleep but he still couldn’t bring himself to, nor was he tired enough to sleep. He was used to that, though. He started to fall back into his thoughts. Wait, what else has happened? He felt like he was forgetting something, something he had tried hard to forget.

Oh. That’s what it was… Back then, a couple months before he met Sword, Rocket’s mental health had probably been at its worst. Not leaving the house for days on end, and since he didn’t really know how to deal with this new found sense of nothingness and self loathing, he developed a few... interesting (more like shitty) coping mechanisms. At first, it wasn’t that bad. Rocket had felt so out of control those past few months, so at least he had power over something... even if it wasn’t good for him. At least he felt like he was in control of something for once.

Those first few months he had felt it was helping him, he really thought it was helping him. He could at least take back control of a little of his life… but over time, he realized that what he was doing to himself was no longer a thing he chose to do, it was now something he had to do. And once again, Rocket had lost all control. Falling back into the spiral he had been stuck in for so long. Around this time was when he met Sword, and with that newfound friendship, Rocket had felt at least a little better. As their friendship grew over the months, Rocket’s mental health was unfortunately only getting worse, due to the fact he didn't want anyone to know what was going on. But eventually, his actions caught up to him, and there was no way he could’ve kept it a secret anymore.

By then, Sword had found out about what Rocket was going through, and made sure he was there to support him. Rocket was so glad Sword didn’t leave him, because honestly, he was expecting that he would. A bit before that was probably when they had started dating... Rocket couldn’t really remember. His memories were kind of scattered around that time. He thought about everything Sword had done to help him back then, even helping him talk to his dad about what was going on.

Swords, that was such a long time ago... Rocket had spent quite a long time ruminating on his past... man, Sword had done so much to help him get better… but Rocket didn’t have the heart to tell him he had relapsed.

Sword and Zuka had worked so hard to help him, and Rocket just threw that away. How could he be so selfish? Maybe if he just hadn’t listened to his thoughts that night.. he wouldn’t be in this horrible headspace right now. Rocket just wanted his mind to shut up, it was so late into the night by now that he didn’t really think he would be able to sleep if his mind was racing like this. He knew what he should have done, but he was too tired to care anymore.

Rocket slowly got out of his bed and walked over to his desk. He felt so much guilt and shame for doing it again but... it was ok right? He had already relapsed last week, anyways, so it’s not like doing it again would change anything.

Rocket reached for the blade without a second thought. 

It didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter.

It was okay. He just needed to sleep, and if doing this was the only way, then so be it.

Rocket didn’t care anymore. He had already fucked up last week, swords, it had basically been the same scenario, hadn’t it? Thinking about the past... not being able to sleep... 'if only he could find a way to make his mind shut up'…

He had already done it. It's too late now. Rocket realized he didn’t have any bandages in his room anymore, not since back then. He slowly opened his bedroom door, careful not to wake Zuka, and went into the bathroom to get the first aid kit. Walking back to his room, Rocket was hit by the gravity of what he had just done. Oh, please no... Rocket had promised himself that last week would be the only time. He had told himself that was it. Just that once... but no matter how much he wished it was all a dream, he knew it wasn’t. 

He was getting worse again. 

Why? Oh Swords, why does it have to be this way?

At least Rocket's mind had finally shut up. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, and although his arm hurt, it was nothing new. It was better than having unending intrusive thoughts, right? 

—-

Sword had invited Rocket over to his apartment the next day to hang out and watch a movie together. Although it was the middle of summer, Rocket put on a hoodie before leaving his room. He couldn’t have anyone knowing what had happened. Even though he hated how hot it was, it was better than Sword knowing what he had done. Zuka dropped Rocket off at Swords place in his pickup truck, head out the window.

"Alright, see you later kid!”

“Bye, dad.”

Rocket rang the doorbell to Sword's apartment. It was a few seconds before he heard Sword running over to the door

“Hey, Rocket!” He said, in his usual enthusiastic manner.

“Hi, Sword...” Rocket seemed pretty tired.

“You okay, Rocket? Are you getting enough sleep?” The swordsman seemed concerned, and for good reason. But rocket couldn't have him find out what was truly going on. 

“Yeah, don’t worry, it’s nothing.”

“Okay, Rocket…”

A few minutes later, they were sat on Sword’s couch to watch a movie, but Rocket still seemed off... he wasn’t really talking as much as usual, and Sword had noticed he had been acting off for about a week now. He hoped it was nothing serious. About halfway through the movie, Sword realized Rocket had fallen asleep. He tapped his boyfriend lightly on the shoulder

“hey Rock, you awake?”

Rocket woke up, a bit startled.

“Oh, I must have fallen asleep, heh…”

Sword was still a bit concerned for him. Despite Rocket telling him he was fine, it didn’t really seem that way to Sword. 

“Hey are you okay? I know I asked earlier, but you seem really tired…” Rocket was a bit hesitant to answer Swords' question, not sure whether to tell the truth or not. Well, at least he could tell half of the truth...

“I-uh, didn’t really sleep that much last night…” Rocket almost wanted to tell Sword what happened, but he didn’t want to worry him more than he already had. Come on, just enjoy this, you don’t have to tell Sword... not yet. As the two continued to watch the movie, Sword moved a little closer to Rocket so they were right next to each other on the couch. Rocket flinched a bit when Sword’s arm touched his, since his wounds were fairly new. He tried to make it the least noticeable he could, but Sword, being the caring inphernal he was, knew immediately. After all, he had helped Rocket with this stuff before, hadn’t he?

But…wait no… he was getting better...

Wasn’t he?

Sword suddenly realized just exactly what had happened. Oh no.. had Rocket relapsed? How long ago was that? How has he been hiding this? All these thoughts raced through Sword's mind for what seemed like forever, even though it was only a couple seconds. He decided he needed to ask Rocket what was going on. Even though Rocket had made it clear that he didn’t want to talk about it, it was for his own safety. Sword knew that the longer this went on, the worse Rocket would get.

“Rocket… listen, I know you said you’re fine, but I’m worried, okay?” Rocket paused. Sword knows, doesn’t he. Fuck. Rocket let out a sigh. Not like he could hide the truth anymore. No point in lying now, I guess…

“Y-you probably already know what’s going on..” Rocket immediately regretted what he had said, he should’ve just stayed silent, if only he could keep things under control… he just needed to be in control.

“Oh, Rocket, did you relapse..?” Sword had a worried expression on his face, and Rocket felt guilty for making him anxious. Rocket just did a slight nod, he couldn’t bring himself to talk about it, not after he had gone so long without doing it and suddenly being back at square one. Sword hugged Rocket, and he let out a quiet sob. He was too tired to hide things from Sword now. Sword hugged him as he cried into his red-horned boyfriend’s shoulder. He didn’t want this to be real, why, oh, why did I have to do that? After a while, Rocket’s sobs turned into slight sniffs as he calmed down.

“…I’m sorry, Sword…” Rocket looked away, ashamed for spilling the truth about what he had done. “Maybe if I wasn’t so fucking stupid you would’ve never had to deal with this in the first place…”

Sword could tell that Rocket was getting into that bad space again. It was easy to tell what the other was feeling.

“Rocket, you have nothing to be sorry for. Things like this happen sometimes, and that’s okay…you didn’t do anything wrong, and none of this is your fault.” Rocket didn’t seem to look any better, though.

“How is it not my fault? Maybe if I just wasn’t so fucking weak I never would’ve done this! I never would have and you would never have to deal with my shitty mental health!” Rocket started breathing faster again. Why hasn’t Sword left yet? Isn’t he sick of this? Why does he even like me? I don’t deserve him. Rocket couldn’t breathe, why was his heart beating so fast? He kept spiraling, falling deeper into his intrusive thoughts. It felt like the longest time before he heard someone calling his name

“Rocket?”

“Rocket!” Suddenly Rocket’s spiraling stopped. Sword was hugging him tightly, and he could feel his heart was still beating fast from his hyperventilating. His face was wet with tears.

“Rocket, none of this is your fault, please believe me.” Did Sword really not care that all his work to help Rocket get better was essentially thrown away? 

“...Aren’t you mad... that I’m not getting better, though...? I-I mean, you tried really hard to help me, and I just threw that away…” Rocket wiped the tears off his face with the back of his hand, not wanting to look Sword in the eyes.

“Rocket, please listen, I mean this with all honesty, I am not mad about anything and this is not your fault okay? What matters the most to me is that you’re okay, I want you to be okay.” Sword hugged Rocket tightly, and the two of them stayed like that for a couple of minutes. After a bit ,Sword let go of Rocket and rested his hands on the other inphernal's shoulders. 

“Is it okay if I spend the night here?” Rocket asked hesitantly. “Of course! I don’t mind at all.” Sword turned off the TV, (even though it had been paused and they hadn’t even finished the movie). They walked to the bedroom.

“Thanks for all this, Sword... I really just needed someone to talk to…” Rocket said, after letting out a yawn. 

“You can always talk to me about this stuff, Rock. I’m here for you.” Sword's voice faded in his head, as Rocket quickly fell asleep. After so many days of sleep deprivation, he finally was too tired to stay awake. Sword hugged him gently. 

“'Night, Sword..” he said, drifting off. “'Night Rocket... I love you.”

“Love you too.”

As the setting sun disappeared behind the tall buildings of crossroads, Rocket prayed things would get better.

But he felt the world was always against him…

Chapter Text

As the days went by, Rocket found himself falling back into yet another depressive episode. The days turned into weeks, until suddenly it had been two months. Two months since… all that had happened. By then, it was early October and the warm summer air turned to a cool autumn breeze, the leaves on the trees changing to a bright orange, and the sound of bird song became less frequent. Rocket didn’t know how much longer he could hold on before giving up entirely.

It was as if he was just hanging onto what was left of his will to live. Wouldn’t it just be easier to let go? 

As time passed, he found himself staying in his room more. It almost felt nostalgic, in a way. This feeling of… pure nothingness was familiar. Everything felt like a blur to him and he could barely remember specific details about anything going on the past two months. Perhaps when you do the same thing every day, it doesn’t matter, because nothing changes. It was now autumn, and Rocket lay on his bed staring at the ceiling, as usual. He couldn’t even remember the last time he went outside. Rocket found his memory wasn’t the most trustworthy, considering he couldn’t even tell if something had happened two days or two months ago. Sure, Zuka and Sword had caught up on Rocket's behavior, but even with their help he still couldn’t get his mind right. Maybe there was really just nothing they could do to help him. 

Maybe he was just a lost cause, too destroyed to ever return back to normal. Was there even a ‘normal' in the first place? Even after he had tried to get better, he still had those horrible thoughts in his head, constantly nagging him, trying to persuade him to do it again . And again. And…again. 

And Sword… oh, Sword. He had always been there, he was so caring and kind, but how could he love someone like Rocket? How could he love someone who would probably end up dead before next year? At this rate, Rocket's mental health was quickly deteriorating as he gave in to his own thoughts. And no matter what Sword or Zuka did to try and help him, nothing was working. 

Nothing is immediately solved when the problem is identified. It takes work and time. 

And if you’re actively working against that, things will never get better. They will only get worse. It was already too late. How much longer could Rocket expect himself to go? 

How can you expect to stay alive if you can’t find anything to live for? Even if help is right in front of y ou, you are blind to it if you have already given up. Even though the people who care about you most haven’t lost hope in you…once you have lost hope in yourself, no one, no matter how hard they try to help you, will be able to. You will be oblivious to it. If you are only staying alive for the reason that others are keeping you alive, you aren’t even living, hell, you’re barely surviving. Your life is in the hands of others instead of your own, because you know if they left you, you would leave too. 

Everything was dull and colorless to Rocket, every day felt the same. Even if Sword or Zuka made him leave the house, it didn’t do him much good. Although Rocket knew what he was doing to himself, it seemed Sword and Zuka were still stuck in the idea that if they tried hard enough, they could help him get better. 

it was late into the night. Sword was usually asleep by then, but something was on his mind. 

Rocket. Sword had been worried about Rocket for a while now though, and getting little sleep due to worrying so much had become normal to him. But Sword just didn’t know how to help Rocket, and to be honest, he didn’t even know what to do at all. It’s hard to understand what someone is feeling if you have never felt that way, isn’t it? Sword just wanted to make sure Rocket was okau. Just a quick text and he would surely respond, like he always did. Sword opened Rocket's contact, just sending a short message, he just needed to make sure the other was ok.

11:36 pm

Sword: hey how r u?

Delivered.

No response.

He’s probably just asleep, it's fine… Sword thought. He’ll text me back later… 

It was way past sword’s bedtime by then, and he was struggling to keep himself awake. Eventually, although he didn’t want to, he decided to go to sleep, despite his mind telling him something was wrong. 

___

Sword opened his eyes, expecting to see the sun peeking through the gap in his curtain, but to his surprise it was still night. Sword reached for his phone to see what time it was. 3am… there was no way he was gonna be able to go back to sleep now… suddenly he noticed something. In his notifications. It was Rocket. Sword opened his texts to see how the other had responded.

11:02 pm

Sword: hey how r u?

12:53 am

Rocket: I dunno, not great…can u come over? 

Rocket: I don’t feel very good 

Sword stared at his phone in silence. Fuck, that was almost 2 hours ago… oh, SFOTH, he rarely sends texts like that. Something was wrong. Really wrong. Sword needed to go to Rocket’s house, now. 

Rocket was going to try to do it again, wasn’t he.

Sword slammed the front door shut as he ran to his car and sped down the road. He wasn’t going to be too late. He wasn’t going to. He wasn’t going to. Oh Rocket, what are you doing? Why didn’t I just stay up a little later? Please, I can’t be too late. 

I can’t lose you, Rocket .

Sword ran up to the front door of Rocket (and Zuka’s) apartment, and grabbed the spare key under the doormat. Rocket had told him about it when he lost his keys one time and needed to get inside. That was so long ago. He walked inside the dimly lit living room and up the stairs. It was eerily quiet in the house, and even though it was the middle of the night, it felt off. Sword went to open the door to Rocket's room, but it was stuck. He kept trying to get it open, until the chair put up against the back of the door gave way, and there was Rocket. 

On the floor, a puddle of blood by his wrist.

Chapter Text

No, no, no, no, this can’t be happening right now! Sword ran over to Rocket, tears running down his face. Rocket’s breathing was shallow, but he was still alive, he could still make it, he was going to be ok. Sword ran over to Zuka’s room and frantically knocked on the door until he heard the older man walking over to see what was going on. 

“… Sword? What are you doing here, it’s pretty late-“ Zuka paused when he noticed Sword was crying, “…are you okay, kid?” Sword could barely talk but he needed to get his message across, he couldn’t just let Rocket die. Not when he could’ve saved him. 

“Rocket…. He needs help..” Zuka stared at Sword in shock before his expression turned serious. 

“Sword. Where. Is. Rocket. ” Sword ran back over to Rocket's room, and Zuka followed. He could already see his son lying on the floor before Sword could explain what had happened. 

“He’s still alive… but I don’t know how much longer he has…” Sword said anxiously. “Okay, Kid, you stay with Rocket. Make sure he’s safe, I’m going to call an ambulance.”

C’mon, Rocket, please, please stay with me. I can’t lose you… 

Please, just keep going, just a little longer.

I can hear the ambulance coming towards us.

Just a little longer…

*** 

Sword and Zuka sat in the waiting room, wondering when they would hear if Rocket was going to be okay. They didn’t even want to think about the other outcome. There was no way, there was no way they were going to lose him.

It had been an hour already and there was still no answer. 

A couple minutes later, a nurse walked over to Sword and Zuka as they anxiously awaited the news they would receive. 

“Is he okay?” Sword asked nervously, as he fidgeted with his hands 

“Yes he’s stable, but he’s not conscious yet.”

“Can we see him?”

“Yes, follow me.”

Sword and Zuka followed the nurse down one of the many maze-like halls in the hospital, until they came to a stop at a curtain. And behind that curtain was Rocket. And oh, swords, how small and vulnerable he looked, laying there. Although he was still alive he was unconscious. The room felt too quiet without him. The way he laughed and the way he talked, all of it was missing. 

Zuka and Sword sat next to Rocket's bed, waiting for him to wake up. 

___

Someone is talking… no, more than one person… maybe two or three? Rocket couldn’t tell, his vision was blurry and his hearing was muffled, he could barely make out the bright lights on the ceiling. Where was he? What was going on? As Rocket's vision came into focus, he could see Zuka and Sword…                                                                                               Why were they here? Why was he here? Rocket tried to sit up but his head felt horribly dizzy… and he was getting a headache from the bright lights of the… where was he? Rocket felt someone bring him into a tight hug, he could hear them talking, but he couldn’t make out the words. As Rocket became more aware of his surroundings, he realized where he was. A hospital. Probably the last place he wanted to be right now. Rocket surveyed the room. There was a window to his right, and the sky was a deep blue-black with a small hint of purple emerging as the sun began to rise. He also noticed.. an IV in his arm? And oh, … as Rocket's memories of what had previously happened slowly came back to him, he remembered what he had tried to do. And… he failed? He…failed.

He failed.

What was he supposed to do with himself now? Why did he fail? Oh SFOTH, why won’t you just let me fucking die? Rocket could feel his eyes watering as tears streamed down his face, though he didn’t know why. He felt numb, but he had felt that way for a while now… he had gotten used to it. he  just laid there for a while, staring at the ceiling while nurses and doctors walked in and out of the room. Sword and Zuka never lef,t though, and by then Rocket's headache was starting to go away, along with his confusion. It really started to sink in for him when he looked down at his bandaged wrist, though. He felt a kind of self loathing that had been nonexistent for a while now, along with hatred. He hated Sword and Zuka for finding him before it was too late, and he hated himself for not doing it right and for making everyone worry about him and ending up in the SFOTH-damn hospital. A while later, a nurse walked into Rocket's room holding a clipboard, which got his attention. Sword and Zuka were still sitting next to his bed, despite it being hours since they got here. The nurse started talking about something Rocket didn’t really care about. He started spacing out again, until he heard someone say his name, so he decided to listen in on the conversation again. Sword was holding Rocket's hand tightly ,as if the doctor had said something he didn’t like. Rocket was still tired, but he could make out most of the conversation going on between the others… something about his mental health record? Then the nurse said something that really caught Rocket's attention. Because it was probably the last thing he wanted to hear right now.

“Based on his medical record and current mental state, we think it’s best that he stays in a psychiatric ward for the time being.” 

Then, it was just Rocket, Sword, and Zuka again. Rocket lay silent in his bed for a few minutes trying to process what had just happened… Eventually, he couldn’t hold the thoughts inside his head anymore as he sat up and asked why the hell he was getting sent to a psych ward of all places. Sword reached over to put his other hand on Rocket's shoulder before speaking.

“Rocket… the doctor said it’s for your own safety. You need more help than we can give you…”  Rocket just stared out the window with a blank expression on his face. He was gonna be stuck here for who knows how long… And at that point, Rocket felt he would rather die than deal with all this shit, but there weren’t really any options anyways. The window had a bar on the outside to stop people from jumping, and all the cabinets that could have had anything in them were locked. 

There really was nothing he could do. 

Apparently it was “for the best” or “for his mental health”, or some other shit the doctors said. But no matter how much he wished it wasn’t true, Rocket eventually had to accept his fate. 

He was going to the psych ward.

Chapter Text

Rocket stood at the doors to the ward. Zuka and Sword stood behind him. He couldn’t bring himself to look them in the eye, no matter how hard he tried. Perhaps he didn’t want to show them how fucked up he really was. The nurse was saying something to Zuka, but Rocket couldn’t hear it. It was like he wasn’t in his body; he still felt as if any minute, he could just wake up. He watched as a tear slipped down Zuka's cheek.

It would be the first time Rocket saw his dad cry, and the last.

The nurse held a hand out to Rocket, who was confused. What did he want? The doctor gestured to Rocket’s duffel. He held it up cautiously, and the nurse took it. He began to sort through it. Fuck . Rocket watched as the nurse pulled out the drawstrings of his hoodie, his sweatpants. He watched as the nurse confiscated his phone and gave it to Zuka, who clutched it like it was a precious heirloom. He watched as the nurse zipped up his bag. The nurse hadn’t, however, found the sharpener blade carefully sewn into the hem of his pants.

He was in the clear. 

“———?” Rocket couldn’t understand what the nurse was saying, until he gestured to the younger inphernal’s prosthetic arm. He held it out for the nurse to see, and suddenly, he rolled up Rocket’s hospital gown sleeve and unhooked the strap. He removed the soft fabric casing the stump. 

He was taking Rocket’s arm. 

Rocket felt naked and helpless without his prosthetic, as he attempted to move what was left of his arm. How could they take his prosthetic? It was what made him function, and without it, he was useless. Just a body. How could this get any worse?

It got much worse. The nurse told him that he couldn't have his leg prosthetic unless under supervision. That it was for his own safety. That wasn’t the worst part, though. It was Sword and Zuka, holding each other, sobbing like they were alone in this world. 

Perhaps they were.

As Rocket was taken into the lobby, he looked around and felt rather offended by the childish decorations. He wasn’t some kid! He was 20, for SFOTH’s sake! He shouldn’t be here, along with these-

Oh . 

As Rocket had glanced around the lobby, he had locked eyes with an inphernal about his age, with yellow horns and shadows under his light eyes. He had small sores and abscesses on his face, red against his pale skin. He was very skinny; Rocket could see every joint protruding through the skin. He had a bandage wrapped around the majority of his upper arm, but Rocket could see small, circular bruises by the edges. It took him a minute to recognize who it was: the last person in all of the Inpherno he expected to see here. 

Valk .

Chapter Text

“Valk?? What are you doing here?” 

Valk heard his ‘name’ coming from across the lobby. Of course. Of phucking course Rocket was here. He just had to see his boss at the phucking psych ward. Why did everything have to turn out like this? 

“I could ask you the same thing.” That shut the blue-horned inphernal up. Speaking of which, his horns looked like they had gone a long time without being shaved. They didn't resemble his father’s anymore, as there were small branches spiking off the sides. Swords, Rocket was really suffering, wasn't he? How had Valk not caught on?

Well, It’s not like anyone had noticed what was going on with him anyways. He had been using for months and no one had even thought there was something wrong with him, hell, did they even care? Even Dom hadn’t figured out what was going on until…no.. he didn't want to think about that night. 

“Microphone?” Valk heard his (real) name coming from the other side of the room and realized he was being called over to the front desk. He stood up and walked over, taking his bag with him.

“Please state your spawn date and current residence.” 

“February 22, and I live at *******, in Crossroads.” The only reason Valk even remembered his address in the first place was because Firebrand had made him memorize it in case he ever got lost, as he was pretty young when he had moved to Crossroads. Though he didn't want to think about what had come before that. 

He was led into a small office, where an older inphernal was waiting for him with a clipboard. He sat down across from the other, fidgeting with his paper scrubs. The elder across from him smiled. He had short, gold-ochre horns, damaged with age. He clearly had keratin issues. Valk wanted very badly to recommend his favorite enzymes, but figured that he would seem like the rich gay boy he was. He stayed quiet. 

“So. Microphone- do you prefer Mic? I’m Compass, by the way.” The question caught him off guard. He didn’t go by that name, even his own brother rarely referred to him by it. Oftentimes, he didn't want to be Mic. He needed to be someone else, to keep him from remembering. Hearing his name screamed from across the house, dreading what was coming next. Hearing his name being yelled, beckoned into the ring of terrors. However, it seemed that Compass didn't recognize him without his stage makeup and signature helm, and he would rather keep it that way. 

“Mic is fine, I guess.” He fidgeted with the hem of his ‘clothing’. If he could just get this over with, he could go back to the blissfully distracting drug. He wouldn't have to think about his brother, his past, Rocket, the needles…

“Alright. Let me take your vitals. Could you hold out your arm for me?” Valk gulped. He knew it was coming. He hesitantly rolled up his sleeve, revealing everything he didn’t want to see, and everything he so desperately wanted again. He waited for Compass’s expression to shift, to grimace or fall at the many circular bruises lining his arms. The marks from the strap he had tied around his upper arm oh so many times. It was easy now, rolling up the paper sleeve, as he had done again and again.

Compass wrapped the blood pressure monitor around Valk’s arm, and pressed a few buttons. Valk waited as it tightened, then released. It was comforting, the pressure. The return of the squeezing feeling. He fiddled with the heart monitor that was now on his finger, watching his heart rate climb with anxiety. Compass wrote down the number, and gestured for him to step onto the scale. He recorded Valk's weight, 136 pounds, and gestured for him to step down.

He took Valk’s height (which was disappointingly still under 5’3”), and let him sit back down.

“So, Mic, do you know why you’re here?” What type of stupid question is that?? Valk was starting to get frustrated. He just wanted to get out of here so he could use again, SFOTHdammit! Compass waited, as if he didn't know the answer. Was he trying to agonize Valk with the question, to force him to admit why he was trapped in this building? Trying to make him come to terms with the past 24 hours? He realized Compass was still waiting.

“Uh. My brother found me trying to- to kill myself, I guess.” He admitted, muttering the last part under his breath. He didn't mention that it wasn't the first time. Years ago, when he was still living with his parents, he had stolen his father’s gear and tried to end the torturous life he led for good. Dom had never found out, and he hadn’t succeeded, either. Barely any damage. 

Compass nodded. He scribbled something on his clipboard, then spoke again in that oddly metallic voice.

“I just have some routine questions, and then we’ll get you settled. Alright?” Valk nodded. He just wanted to get back and use.

“Do you have any weapons at home, besides you and your family’s gear?”

“No.” 

“Do you have an eating disorder?” 

“No.” 

“How do you feel about your physical appearance?” 

“Fine, I guess. I mean, the sores are annoying, and I wish I was taller, but it’s not occupying my mind.” 

“Have you ever been diagnosed with depression or an anxiety disorder?” 

“No.” 

“Have you ever been pressured into sex for food, shelter or love?”

“No.” 

“Have you ever sold illegal drugs?”

“No.” 

“Have you ever abused illegal drugs?”

The question. Of course he knew it was coming, but he had hoped it wouldn't be soon. He didn't want to end up in jail. He just needed more. He needed to do whatever it took to get out of here, just so he could forget. He needed to forget. He needed it. 

“Yes.” 

He waited for the judgement, the handcuffs, the sirens. But they never came. Instead, the older man just jotted something down with his ballpoint pen, then asked the next question. No police. No slap to the face. 

“What is your drug of choice?”

SFOTH, did Compass want him to cringe that badly? Was he really going to make Valk do an in-depth review of everything that had ever gone wrong in his life? He supposed he was going to have to answer the question. Not like he really had any other option anyways… 

He muttered the answer under his breath, making sure that the older man heard him while maintaining what little dignity he had left.  He was really getting sick of this place. 

…

After he had finished being interrogated by Compass (seriously, that old man was in desperate need of moisturizer), he was allowed to shower and change into non-paper clothing. Which was a relief, even though the thread count on the sweater was absolutely preposterous in his opinion. The worker there had only let him use generic grocery store shampoo in a paper cup, which disappeared as soon as the icy shower water entered the small container. He hadn't had time to pack his own bags, as Dom had stayed with him while he was on hold in the hospital, and Firebrand was still a little bit MIA. Come to think of it, he hadn't visited his grandfather in months, despite having ample opportunity to do so. He supposed that with everything going on, it had not crossed his mind. And even if he got out of this place soon enough, he wouldn't go visit Firebrand. 

The first thing he would do would not be to hug his brother, or to return to his job.

No, it would be to find his stash and get back to it. At this point, he was considering breaking out, he needed it so bad. It was a sort of primal craving, a desperate need for the last thing to keep his head above water. And it didn't matter to Valk, who got in the way. The sooner he could convince them all he was perfectly fine and fixed, the sooner he could save himself.

…

Rocket watched as a nurse led Valk out of the lobby through a door, presumably where he would be going too. Great, just great, he thought to himself. Was he really gonna have to spend the next 20 days stuck in this stupid building? Well, it's not like he had a choice anyways. Rocket leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. It was going to take him a while to get used to all … this… 

The inphernal at the front desk called his name, snapping Rocket out of his thoughts. He sat up and grabbed his bag before walking over to sign in. After stating his address and spawn date, he was led through the same door Valk had gone through, by a shorter inphernal with two short lilac horns sprouting from the top of their head. After the other closed the door behind rocket, they gestured for him to take a seat. Rocket sat across from the other, anxiously awaiting what was to come next. He watched as they wrote something down on their clipboard, and then noticed their name on their ID badge. Amethyst… huh. He also noticed a few pale purple scars lining their wrists. He somehow felt better about this whole situation, knowing at least someone else here had gone through what he had. After Amethyst finished getting their papers organized, they smiled softly at Rocket before introducing themselves.

“Hello, you’re Rocket, correct? Oh, and my name is Amethyst.” Rocket nodded slightly, before the other began talking again.

“Alright, Rocket, do you know why you’re here?” Rocket let out a small sigh. He had already had to explain this shit to so many others before, and frankly, he was getting tired of it. Couldn't they just, like… look through his medical record or something? Amethyst waited patiently for him to respond. Though Rocket already knew what the nurse was getting at, he knew they already had all the information about him. They just wanted him to say it. 

“...I mean, it's pretty obvious right?” Rocket said sarcastically, eyeing his bandaged wrist. Amethyst nodded slightly but didn't show any reaction towards what he had said. Perhaps they were used to it or something. Instead of pestering him more about what he had done to himself, Amethyst just moved on to the next questions, having Rocket answer them all with just a simple “yes” or “no”. But of course, they had to go and ask about further details of the ones he said yes to. Rocket really didn't like talking about his mental health, and would always try to avoid questions like those, and although Amethyst had let him off the hook the first time, it certainly didn't seem like that was going to happen now. 

After Rocket was done being interrogated, Amethyst led him past a door, through a long hallway with several locked doors, and into where he was going to be imprisoned for the time being. Great. Just great.

There were five little rooms sprouting off from the main space. Phucking amazing. How the hell is this place even supposed to help me? Rocket still couldn’t understand how being here was “for his own good”. He didn't even think he was going to be able to get better, so what was the point? He’s just delaying the inevitable. It’s inevitable. 

The nurse led Rocket to the common room, which was populated by a couple other inphernals he didn't know, and then there was Valk. He was sitting quietly by himself in a corner of the room, by the large stationary bike. (As if Valk of all people would exercise here!) Rocket locked eyes with Valk again, a bit of awkward tension between them; but just then the two were called over by a different nurse to get their room assignments. And of course they just had to end up with rooms right next to each other. Not even separated by one other person. Awesome. Now I can spend almost a month stuck in this phucking building with my boss. Oh, for SFOTH’s sake, why did this have to happen? Valk and Rocket exchanged awkward glances as they walked to what would be their home for the next 20 days. Rocket sighed as he threw his duffel onto the floor and flopped down on his bed. It was gonna be a while before he could get out of here; and even worse, Valk was there too. 

***

Why the hell did Dom have to admit me? Valk was mad at his brother, even though he knew it was for the better. He had been caught, because he was fucking stupid. He shouldn’t have tried to use that night. He should have just waited, waited a little longer, waited until he was alone.nBut in walked Dom, and, seeing Valk with the strap on his arm and the needle in between his teeth… and, well, one thing led to another, and now he was here.

With Rocket.

In the psych ward. 

How was this happening? The famous Valk, half of the idol group Flipside, in a mental hospital? It was horrifying. He thought he had done a good enough job with the makeup to hide the redness on his face; he really assumed that he had done a good enough job. And maybe he had.

Maybe he just wasn't good enough.