Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly above the tiled hallway, washing everything in a pale blue glow. The linoleum floors were freshly waxed, reflecting the white silhouettes of slow-shuffling patients and the quiet hustle of staff in sterile uniforms.

At precisely 6:30 a.m., the metal handrails lining the east wing halls clinked softly as Elliot made his way down the corridor, right hand gripping the cool steel. His steps were shaky but familiar—measured like the slow ticking of a grandfather clock.

Nurse Noob walked behind him with a clipboard that was slightly too big for their hands. “You doing okay, Dr. Elliot? Want me to, like, hold your arm or something?”

“I’m fine,” Elliot replied, voice light but firm. “Just… checking the morning air quality of hallway C again. It’s important.”

Noob blinked. “We’re indoors.”

"Yes," Elliot said. "Tragically."

He paused at the corner where the hallway branched into the patient ward and leaned on the rail, catching his breath. From one of the nearby rooms, a loud CLANG erupted—followed by a furious screech of chair legs. Coolkidd, of course.

Noob perked up. “Uhh—gonna check on that!”

“You might want backup,” Elliot called. “He’s probably rebelling against the hospital gown again.”

Inside Room 304, Coolkidd was indeed shirtless—again—his white pants slightly crumpled, and his IV line dangerously tangled.

“I told y’all,” he barked, “I’m not wearing that stupid dress! You want me to die looking like a frosted cake?!”

From the doorway,Guest 1337 pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s not a dress. It’s a gown. And you’re literally in diabetic ketoacidosis, you can’t just untether your fluids.”

“I LOOK STUPID!!”

“I’m gonna look stupid if you crash and I have to explain it to Dusekkar,” Guest muttered.

Noob peeked in, holding a juice box. “Apple?”

Coolkidd stared at him. Took it.

“Don’t think this means I’m cooperating,” he grumbled.

Down the hall, Taph sat on a bench beneath a hospital mural: the kind made of overlapping handprints. A whiteboard sat in his lap, with the sentence:

"The coffee machine is broken again."

Builderman, leaning against the wall nearby, read it and sighed. “That explains why iTrapped was perched on top of the vending machine earlier.”

Taph wiped the board clean, then scribbled again:

"He said the machine was 'taunting' him."

Builderman chuckled softly, the kind of laugh that held tiredness. He looked to the hallway just in time to see iTrapped actually crawl through the ceiling panel from above—landing on the nurse station desk with a dull thud.

“I need hazard pay,” iTrapped grunted, flicking whiteboard dust from his shoulder.

“Good morning to you too,” Builderman replied, deadpan.

At the west wing’s observation deck, Two Time sat cross-legged on their bed, white shirt wrinkled, fingers covered in faded ink from yesterday’s “ritual.” Around them, three arranged stones—stolen from a potted plant in the waiting area—formed a makeshift triangle.

they murmured to themselves, eyes wide, watching shadows move where there were none.

From the doorway, Dusekkar observed quietly, jotting notes in a small leather-bound book.

“You're not going to stop them?" Jane Doe asked from beside him, arms folded.

“they are not harming anyone,” Dusekkar said calmly. “And frankly, they are the quietest patient in this hall today.”

Behind them, a crash.

"...was."

In Room 210, Chance sat up, breath shallow but smiling faintly as they laid out tarot cards on the edge of his blanket. Across from him sat 1x4, legs dangling off a chair, arms folded tightly.

"You don’t actually believe this stuff works, do you?” 1x4 mumbled, eyes narrowed.

“I don’t need to believe it,” Chance replied, brushing their fingers over the next card. “I just need to distract myself from how much my back hurts.”

He drew a card—The Tower.

“Oof. Want me to draw again?” he offered.

1x4 rolled their eyes. “You're bad at this.”

"You're not wrong," Chance agreed. "But at least I’m not shedding like your dad’s hairline."

1x4 almost smirked.

In the hallway, Shedletsky leaned on the nurses' station, scribbling something on a post-it.

“What do you get when you cross a patient with an IV pole?”

Brighteyes, seated beside him, raised a brow. “Please don’t.”

“A drip-off-the-old-block!”

A deep silence. Even the beeping machines hesitated.

Brighteyes sighed. “You’re lucky you’re kind of charming.”

Behind them, iTrapped passed with a mutter: “He’s lucky HR doesn’t work weekends.”

Guest 666 sat alone in the recovery garden, white shirt stained with faint dots of red, wrists bandaged, his IV pole just casually standing close to him.  He stared at his hands like they weren’t his, expression unreadable.

Beside him on the bench was a paper crane.

He didn’t remember how it got there.

He didn't remember anything, really.

But he stared at the crane a long time.

Then tucked it into his pocket.

The door to Room 130 was slightly ajar, as always. Not from neglect, but caution.

Azure sat on the floor, not the bed—bare feet pressed against the cold tile, knees to chest. The white shirt they wore was perfectly clean, but the collar had been stretched and twisted into unnatural curls. Their hands were clenched into tight fists, and every few seconds, one eye twitched as if reacting to something no one else could see.

“Do you see it, too?” Azure whispered, not looking at anyone in particular.

Two Time, in the room next door, muttered nonsense under their breath.

But Azure wasn’t listening to them. Azure was watching the sunlight on the floor shift like something was crawling through it. They pulled their knees closer.

“They keep moving underneath. Like—roots. But wet. You know?”

Nobody was in the room. Not really. Just the soft beep of the heart monitor.

Except…

A small origami crane, maybe the one Chance made earlier, sat by the doorway. Azure didn’t see who placed it there.

They just stared at it.

And slowly, uncurled one fist.

Across the hall, Jason was wide awake—but said nothing.

The walls of Room 140 had deep scratch marks low to the floor, and the chair in the corner was turned completely backward. Jason sat in that chair, his face turned toward the wall, whispering softly to the darkness in the corner.

“I didn’t do it,” he said calmly. “He did.”

A pause.

“No. We didn’t do it.”

A longer pause.

“...Maybe.”

He blinked once. Then looked at his hand, tilting it like he expected something to drip from his fingertips.

There was nothing.

But Jason’s pupils dilated anyway.

Behind the observation window, Dusekkar stood with arms folded, watching. His pen tapped against his clipboard, unmoving.

“Patient 140 has now been awake for seventy-two hours,” he mumbled into his voice recorder. “Continues to show signs of identity fracture. No violent outbursts today.”

He watched Jason lower his hand… then laugh.

“Yet.”

On the opposite end of the ward, in Room 215, there was near silence—except for the steady sound of machines doing what John Doe’s brain no longer could.

Coma. Deep, unmoving. Breathing only because of the ventilator. His white uniform shirt had been neatly tucked in by a nurse earlier, though his hands twitched occasionally—like he was dreaming about flying and never landing.

Jane Doe sat by his side, reading aloud from a book. Not because he could hear her, but because she couldn’t bear the silence.

“And then the boy stepped into the lake, and the stars blinked at him like old friends.”

She looked up. “I think you'd like this part.”

His eyes didn’t move.

She placed a paper crane beside his IV bag.

He didn’t know what it meant.

But she did.

As the sun crept in through the hallway windows, golden light spilled across the walls. Elliot sat in a chair near the staff lounge, legs curled beneath him, sipping lukewarm tea. His lab coat draped across his lap like a weighted blanket.

iTrapped stood nearby, silently fixing the ceiling tile he'd fallen from earlier.

After a pause, Elliot looked up. “You don’t have to keep fixing things.”

iTrapped didn’t turn. “If I don’t, they stay broken.”

“You say that like that’s a bad thing.”

This time, iTrapped did turn—just a little—and for a flicker of a second, he softened.

“…You’d be annoying even if you weren’t dying, you know that?”

Elliot gave a sleepy smile. “Thank you.”

Down in the corridor, a nurse's cart squeaked.

A laugh echoed from Two Time’s room.

And in the corner, 1x4 carefully unfolded a paper crane, and tucked it into their pillow.

Just another day.

In the most broken, brilliant, busy hospital in the world.

Chapter Text

Coolkidd was bouncing on the edge of his hospital bed, socks half-on, IV stand forgotten at his side, and a half-eaten pudding cup teetering off the tray in front of him. The nurse had come in earlier, checking his insulin levels and giving him the usual lecture about food portions and blood sugar. Blah blah blah. All Coolkidd heard was “blah, don’t eat two waffles at once” and “blah, your blood’s basically syrup.”

Whatever. He felt fine.

"You're not wearing the gown again?" Nurse Noob's voice had barely reached his ears before Coolkidd was already rolling his eyes.

"Nope!" he said proudly, tugging on the hem of his neon-red hoodie. "You can't make me. This is drip, Noob. Gowns are for, like, actual patients."

“You are an actual patient.” Noob tried not to laugh, adjusting a sticky note on the wall that said: “You're stronger than your pancreas thinks!” in marker.

"Nah," Coolkidd shrugged. "I’m just visiting the snacks here."

The door creaked open before Noob could reply.

KNOCK - KNOCK !

That voice. That familiar warmth, all fuzzy like hot chocolate. Coolkidd’s face lit up before he even turned. “DAD!!”

007n7 stepped in with a big grin, his pink glasses slipping down his nose. He was holding a small bag in one hand—a plastic one from the gift shop—and something else in the other.

No, wait.

Someone.

“Hey, buddy!” 007n7 walked in fully, stepping aside so the person behind him could be seen. “Brought you somethin’… and someone.”

Coolkidd blinked. The guy behind his dad was tall, wore a black hoodie with violet strings, and had one headphone aroind his neck. His hair looked like it was always trying to fall into his face, but his smile was lopsided and easy, the kind of smile that said,

‘I’ve seen worse, but this is nice.’

Coolkidd tilted his head.

“Who’s that?” he whispered to Noob dramatically, even though the room wasn’t that big.

Noob gave a small, polite wave toward the new arrival and stepped aside. “I’ll let you three catch up,” they said with a smile, slipping out and leaving a trail of gentle encouragement stickers in their wake.

The hoodie guy gave a small wave. “Yo.”

007n7 placed the gift bag on the side table and ruffled Coolkidd’s hair. “This is my friend, Noli. I thought maybe you two could meet.”

Coolkidd narrowed his eyes at Noli, his 10-year-old instincts already scanning the man up and down. “Are you, like… a doctor?”

“Nope,” Noli said, his voice easy. “Terrified of needles. I just came to meet the legend. Heard a lot about you.”

That got Coolkidd to puff up like a peacock. “Oh? You have, huh?”

“Only everything,” Noli said, giving 007n7 a glance. “He won’t shut up about you, y’know.”

Coolkidd glanced at his dad suspiciously. “He does talk too much.”

“Hey!” 007n7 raised his hands, feigning offense. “I talk just the right amount!”

Coolkidd giggled, eyes darting back and forth between them. He didn’t really get why his dad was smiling so much, or why Noli had scooted a little closer and now they were sharing a look and—

Wait.

He stared at them. Then shrugged.

“Anyway!” He clapped his hands. “What’s in the bag?”

“Ahh,” 007n7 exhaled in relief and handed it over. “Some stickers. Comics. Sugar-free candy, ‘cause I love you and don’t want you exploding.”

Coolkidd made an exaggerated ugh noise but took the bag happily, pulling each thing out like it was treasure. “Okay, okay… not bad. You’re trying.”

“Oh?” Noli leaned back on the foot of the bed. “So what’s your rating? Dad’s gift haul out of ten?”

Coolkidd, eyes glittering, held up one hand. “Seven point five.”

“Harsh,” 007n7 chuckled. “You wound me.”

Coolkidd grinned. Then, naturally, started telling them about the guy across the hall who “definitely had ghost powers,” and how Nurse Guest 1337 “sleeps with his eyes open probably,” and how Elliot was “a cool doctor, I guess, but walks like a penguin.”

Noli laughed a bit too hard at that one. “You really don’t hold back, huh?”

Coolkidd shrugged. “Honesty is key, Noli.”

He said Noli’s name for the first time, and Noli gave a tiny smile. 007n7 watched the moment, eyes soft.

“Y’know,” Noli said, leaning forward a bit, “your dad’s pretty cool, too.”

Coolkidd made a face. “Ehhh.”

007n7 laughed. “Wow. Betrayal.”

“You wear pink glasses,” Coolkidd said, like that explained everything.

“They’re stylish!” 007n7 protested.

“They’re dadly.”

“Rude,” Noli muttered through a smirk.

It went on like that for another twenty minutes—Coolkidd bouncing around the room, half-telling stories, half-interrogating Noli about his hoodie and music taste (“You don’t listen to elevator jazz, do you??”). Noli, surprisingly patient, let the chaos happen. He looked like he belonged, shoulders relaxed, glancing at 007n7 every now and then when Coolkidd wasn’t paying attention.

And Coolkidd… never noticed.

He didn’t see how close they were standing. Didn’t catch the quiet look exchanged when he left the room to ask for a new pudding cup. Didn’t hear the soft laugh Noli let out when 007n7 nudged him.

He didn’t notice how Noli’s hand briefly touched his dad’s on the edge of the bedrail.

No. He was too busy being ten.

Too busy bouncing in and out of the room, trailing stories and laughter, wearing his hoodie instead of a gown, declaring loudly, “I’m gonna be outta here before anyone else!!”

Too busy living.

But the air around them—Noli and 007n7—was calm, quietly pulsing with something warm and tentative. And for a first day, that was more than enough.

...

Hospitals made Noli twitchy.

Not in a bad-memory kind of way. Just in the too-quiet, too-sterile, something hums in the walls kind of way. The lights buzzed overhead like they were whispering secrets he wasn’t invited to. And everything smelled like rubber gloves and watered-down lemon.

Still, he was here.

Because 007n7 had asked. And when he asked—with that little lift in his voice, the kind that made it sound like “You don’t have to” but also like “I kinda hope you say yes”—well… Noli caved. Like always.

“You don’t have to stay long,” 007n7 had said, adjusting those pink glasses of his, nervous in the way he never was around anyone else. “Just thought it might be good for you to meet him.”

Noli had nodded, hoodie strings in his mouth to stop the weird little smile from forming.

So now here he was. Stepping into a kid’s hospital room behind 007n7, trying to act normal, casual, hoodie up like a shield.

And then he saw the kid.

Coolkidd.

All limbs and motion and attitude, immediately dramatic, already suspicious of Noli like he was a security risk.

“Who’s that?”

Oof. A direct hit.

Noli resisted the urge to step backward.

“Yo,” he said instead, giving a little wave, keeping it chill. “Name’s Noli.”

The nurse—cheery, pastel-coded, armed with sticky notes—slipped out. And now it was just them. A ten-year-old with the social power of a reality show host, and Noli… quietly hoping this wouldn’t be a disaster.

And then Coolkidd puffed up. “Oh? You have heard of me, huh?”

Okay. There it was. That spark 007n7 talked about.

Coolkidd had the kind of presence that could flood a room. Not loud in the annoying way—loud like he believed the world was his, even while wearing an IV line and highlighter-colored socks. He had zero filter, no chill, and Noli… actually kind of respected that.

He played along. He leaned in. Rated the dad gift haul. Sat at the foot of the bed like he wasn’t nervously wondering if he was “doing it wrong.”

And somewhere between the sticker reviews and “that one time I saw a ghost nurse with backwards legs,” Noli relaxed.

The kid wasn’t judging him.

He was testing him.

Seeing if he could hang.

And Noli—hoodie, headphones, weird smile and all—was hanging.

"dad talks a lot," Coolkidd said at one point, eyeing Noli like a detective as if waiting for a correct answer. 

"You're not wrong," Noli said, smirking.

007n7 threw a hand up in mock offense. “Y’all are teaming up on me now?”

Coolkidd and Noli high-fived wordlessly.

Noli didn’t notice the smile growing on his own face until it hurt a little. It had been a while since he’d smiled like that.

And then there were the moments.

Soft, blink-and-you-miss-it stuff.

Like when Coolkidd darted off down the hallway to find more pudding, shouting something about “flavor superiority.” The room got quiet, and 007n7 turned to Noli with that dumb, warm grin again.

“Well?” he asked, like he needed Noli to like his kid.

Noli just leaned against the wall, fingers tucked into the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie.

“He’s electric,” he said. “Like… if chaos drank a Red Bull.”

007n7 laughed. Not a big, barky one—one of those soft, chest-deep ones. The kind that sat between them like a secret.

“You’re good with him,” he said, eyes catching the light.

“I’m not good with kids,” Noli replied instinctively. He always said that.

“You’re not giving yourself credit.”

There it was again—that look. The one that made Noli’s heart tilt sideways.

And he almost said something then. Something stupid, probably. Something real.

But Coolkidd came charging back into the room before anything broke the surface, yelling, “THEY HAVE BUBBLEGUM FLAVOR—THIS PLACE IS SAVED.”

And the moment passed.

The visit stretched into an hour.

Somehow, it didn’t feel long.

Coolkidd wore himself out around the 55-minute mark, crashing into his pillow like a deflating balloon. Still talking, even half-asleep. Noli watched from his corner, quietly amused.

“I’m gonna be outta here so fast,” Coolkidd mumbled. “Like Zoomies 2.0.”

“Don’t race the doctors,” 007n7 said gently.

Coolkidd snored in response.

The room went still.

Noli shifted his weight, suddenly aware of how quiet it had gotten. The white noise of the machines. The hum of something vital.

“He’s awesome,” Noli said softly.

“Yeah,” 007n7 replied, pulling the blanket over Coolkidd a little more. “He’s my world.”

Noli felt something crack, sharp and bright, right under his hoodie strings.

“I’m glad you brought me.”

“I’m glad you came.”

Silence.

And then, tentatively, 007n7’s hand found his. Just for a second. Just resting. Warm.

Noli didn’t pull away.

He didn’t say anything either. Just looked at Coolkidd—fast asleep, arms sprawled like he owned the bed—and let the quiet hold them all in place.

... 

The rain started like a whisper—light at first, tapping at the windows, teasing the air with the promise of something bigger. But it didn’t take long for it to gather itself, turning into a storm that was impossible to ignore.

Inside Coolkidd’s room, the noise of the rain was comforting, filling in the spaces between soft conversation and the rhythmic beeping of machines.

“Well,” 007n7 said, glancing out the window as the first few drops landed on the glass. “Guess we’re not getting outta here any time soon.”

Noli followed his gaze. The storm had turned the sky into a wash of dark gray, and the view of the hospital courtyard was obscured by sheets of rain. The streets outside were already slick with water, glowing under the streetlights.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me a little longer,” Noli said, his tone light, but there was an edge to it. Something unspoken.

007n7 smiled—one of those smiles that made the whole room feel warmer, even in the midst of the storm. He adjusted his pink glasses, tugging at the sleeve of his hoodie. “Guess so.”

They both shifted slightly, standing there in the quiet. Coolkidd was asleep—really asleep now, his tiny snores the only sound in the room, aside from the rain.

Noli shifted his weight from one foot to the other, unsure of where the moment was going. He was used to being the guy who let things slide, who didn’t let his feelings get in the way. He’d been that way for years.

But when 007n7 was around… it was different.

“Maybe I should head back to my room,” Noli said, more out of habit than anything else. “Before I get too comfortable.”

“Not yet,” 007n7 said quickly, reaching for the door handle before Noli could move. “Not yet. We can wait it out.”

The words were simple, casual, but Noli felt something shift. The space between them seemed to shrink, and suddenly, the storm outside felt louder—closer. Intimate.

Noli turned back slowly, their eyes meeting.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. It was just the rain. And them.

Then 007n7 laughed softly, a quiet sound that seemed to float above the room. “It’s funny,” he said, glancing down at the floor. “I never thought I’d find myself here. Of all places, with all people, and—” He paused, biting back a grin. “And you.”

The words hung in the air. And in that moment, something cracked, and Noli couldn’t help but feel the pull.

“Yeah,” Noli muttered, voice rougher than usual. “I’m full of surprises.”

There was a flicker of something in 007n7’s eyes—something that felt like more than just the usual playful banter. More than just making the best of the situation. It was as if, in the quiet, in the rain, something had shifted between them. The air felt different now. He could feel it.

007n7 shifted closer, his hand brushing against Noli’s, almost by accident. But it wasn’t an accident, not really. It was like he’d been waiting for the moment. And when their fingers brushed, a warmth rushed through Noli’s chest, filling the space between them in a way that made the rain feel distant. The storm outside? Forget it. It was all here now.

“Hey,” 007n7 said softly, taking another step closer, their faces inches apart now, “I know this might be… weird. But I want to say something. I’ve been thinking it all day, actually.”

Noli’s heart stuttered, his pulse picking up, and before he could stop himself, he asked, “What’s that?”

For a moment, 007n7 seemed to hesitate. It was just a flicker, just a moment of hesitation, but it made Noli’s breath catch in his throat. And then, slowly, 007n7 reached up, pushing his glasses back up on his nose, as if to hide the vulnerability in his eyes.

“I think you’re way too good for me,” 007n7 said quietly, his voice almost like a confession. “But I’m not letting that stop me from saying it.” He chuckled softly, nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “You make me feel things, Noli. I wasn’t expecting it. But here we are.”

Noli felt the words hit him like a wave, sweeping through him. He knew exactly what that felt like. How it felt when you didn’t plan on something, didn’t expect it, and then it hit you all at once.

He took a breath, his voice low, almost too quiet to be heard over the storm outside. “You’re not the only one.”

007n7’s eyes searched Noli’s face, like he wasn’t sure if he’d heard correctly.

Noli took a step closer, his hand brushing lightly against 007n7’s again, this time not by accident. There was something there—something unspoken, something powerful. He could feel it in his chest, his heart pounding harder than it had in days.

“I’ve been trying to ignore it, too,” Noli murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m not gonna lie—there’s something here. And I don’t want to miss it.”

For a moment, it felt like time stood still. The rain outside was a constant, a reminder that the world still spun, that things still happened, but in that room? It was just them. And that connection they had somehow both ignored until now.

Then 007n7, as if unable to stop himself, closed the gap completely, his hand finding Noli’s with a gentle tug. He leaned in, and Noli didn’t pull away. He couldn’t. The air between them crackled with that slow burn they’d both been avoiding, and when 007n7’s lips finally brushed against his, it felt like the world had stopped. Like the storm outside, the chaos in the hospital, the ticking clock on the wall—they all disappeared.

It was just them. And the rain. And the quiet, burning promise that they weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

BONUS !! :

The rain eventually calmed. Kind of.

It downgraded from “Biblical flood” to “you’ll still absolutely regret going outside.”

007n7 peeked through the front glass doors of the hospital lobby, squinting at the rain. “Okay. If we go now, I think we only get partially drenched.”

“You said that ten minutes ago,” Noli deadpanned, holding the gift bag Coolkidd had stuffed full of stickers, pudding cups, and one rogue juice box. “You lied.”

“That was before I remembered I parked, uh… not close.”

“Define ‘not close.’”

“...We’re crossing a small ocean.”

Noli gave him the look. The “you just confessed your feelings and now you’re leading me into a flood zone?” look.

007n7 adjusted his pink glasses like they were foggy. “Hey. I’m cute. That buys me some forgiveness, right?”

“No,” Noli said, deadpan. “You owe me warm drinks and probably new socks.”

“Fair.”

And so, like two fools in love and denial, they made a break for it.

---

They ran.

Noli’s hood flew off immediately. His hair soaked in half a second.

007n7 was screaming “LEFT!! LEFT!!” while holding the car keys like a weapon.

Noli shouted “THIS ISN’T LOVE, THIS IS WATER TORTURE!”

They slipped. Twice. Noli nearly skated across a puddle like a dramatic soap opera exit.

By the time they threw themselves into 007n7’s tiny car, both of them were dripping, winded, and laughing so hard they couldn’t breathe.

“My socks are soup,” Noli wheezed.

“My glasses are a fish tank,” 007n7 choked out, wiping them off with the sleeve of his now *soggy* blue polo shirt.

The car’s windshield fogged up immediately from the heat and their collective chaos. It smelled like wet fabric and cheap body spray.

“I—” Noli started, hair sticking to his forehead, “I can’t believe we had a moment like… that… and now we’re in the car like two sewer rats.”

007n7, still laughing, reached over and squeezed his knee. “Honestly? Best first date I’ve ever had.”

Noli covered his face. “That wasn’t a date.”

“Okay, but it had a kiss, a storm, dramatic tension, and physical suffering. That’s a date in every indie film ever.”

“...Damn. You’re right.”

They sat in the parking lot, soaked, tired, grinning like idiots, while the rain beat gently on the roof.

Romance wasn’t always graceful. But it was real.

Chapter Text

The sterile scent of the hospital filled the air, as it always did on a quiet morning. The hum of fluorescent lights seemed almost comforting, if you ignored the general sense of "wow, we’re surrounded by medical equipment and sick people." Shedletsky had been nursing his daily cup of coffee—thankfully, still in a real cup instead of the usual styrofoam, because who could live on those things?—when he heard the familiar shuffle of Brighteyes’s footsteps.

But this time, something was off.

Brighteyes entered the breakroom, beaming with a proud, almost mischievous grin. She wasn’t alone.

Behind her stood Clockwork, the retired nurse. His presence was hard to miss—he has an average height, his signature clockwork-shades and blue valk that could only be described as “professional chaos.” His face screamed ':3' so bad, like he’d seen it all and lived to tell the tale. The stethoscope around his neck looked like it had survived more hospital dramas than most patients ever would.

And then, beside him... Stickmasterluke. Or just Luke, as he liked to be called. The man had the type of energy that screamed “I’m here to shake things up.” He wore a different type of lab coat as if he were some sort of medical superhero, though with a touch of “I probably should’ve stayed in bed today.” He was still in the field, much to Shedletsky’s delight—because who wouldn’t want a chaotic doctor in their midst?

Lastly his soft white-wings that is folded to make room. 

Shedletsky, who had been halfway through his routine dad joke prep, froze mid-sentence. The coffee cup in his hand dangled dangerously, as if it too was in shock.

"Brighteyes," he started, wiping his hands on his scrubs nervously, "You didn’t—"

“Oh, but I did,” Brighteyes interrupted with a wink. “You always say you’re bored here. I thought I’d spice things up a little.”

Shedletsky’s eyes darted between Clockwork and Luke.

“I—uh… Clockwork, Luke? What... what are you guys doing here?” His voice shook with a mix of surprise and the growing sense that today was going to be far worse than he had ever imagined.

Clockwork adjusted his glasses, looking around the room with an expression that screamed "I’ve seen worse." “We’re here for a visit, Shedletsky. Don’t look so spooked.” He glanced at Luke, who seemed equally amused.

“Actually,” Luke chimed in, his voice smooth but laced with sarcasm, “I heard someone was getting a little too comfy in the medical world, so I thought I'd come give you a reminder of how real doctors operate."

Shedletsky almost spat out his coffee. “Oh no, you didn’t just come here to roast me,” he said, straightening up with sudden indignation. “I’ve got mad nursing skills. Do you guys even know how to use one of these?” He brandished a thermometer like it was a weapon.

Clockwork smirked. “Thermometers? We use them as decorations now.”

Luke snorted. “Yeah, but I suppose you’ve never had the privilege of making life-saving decisions under pressure. Or, you know, not passing out every time someone needs a blood transfusion.”

Shedletsky's face contorted as if he had just been slapped. “Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be, huh? Well, if I’m not mistaken, you’re still rocking the ‘distract the patients with bad jokes’ method, huh?”

Brighteyes, enjoying the comedic clash between the men, nudged Luke. “Come on, Luke. You can’t be that rough on him. He’s… trying.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “Trying? I don’t know. I’d call it ‘having an identity crisis in scrubs.’”

Shedletsky groaned. “That’s it. I’m done. I’m going to start taking real vacations. Where’s my whistle?”

Brighteyes stepped between them. “Okay, okay, enough! You guys are going to break this poor man’s spirit before he’s even had breakfast. Luke, Clockwork—be nice.”

Clockwork casually took a seat. “It’s not our fault that your husband here is so stuck on being the comic relief. Honestly, it’s like watching a midlife crisis play out on the job.”

“I’m not having a midlife crisis!” Shedletsky protested, looking genuinely wounded.

Brighteyes raised a brow. “Then why is there a hot pink convertible parked outside?”

Shedletsky blinked. “I-I didn’t—You didn’t see that!”

Clockwork laughed. “Oh, we saw it alright. Brighteyes, you really need to keep him on a tighter leash.”

Luke chuckled, pointing at Shedletsky. “You’ve gotta hand it to him. Only a guy who’s so desperately trying to prove something would wear a neon pink car to a hospital.”

Shedletsky threw his hands up in exasperation. “That car is for vibes, alright? It’s for vibes. You just don’t understand.”

Brighteyes couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Clockwork, though, was stoic. As always. But even he couldn’t suppress a small smile.

Suddenly, 1x4 stumbled in, looking disoriented as usual, dragging their IV pole. Shedletsky froze. This was not the ideal moment for his son to witness such a circus.

1x4 doesnt seem to care about shedletsky though.

“brighteyes? What’s going on in here?” 1x4 asked, looking bewildered at the strangers in the room.

“Oh, just a... family reunion,” brighteyes said, her grin plastered on despite the absurdity. “Meet Clockwork and Stickmasterluke. They’re here to... remind me I don’t know anything about real medicine.”

1x4 raised an eyebrow but said nothing, instead glancing at Luke, who was now doing some strange hand motions to demonstrate his “doctor skills.” but then left without hesitation, to who knows.

Clockwork, ever the professional, shook his head and muttered to Luke, “I swear, you’re trying to give this kid a seizure with your antics.”

“Well, if he’s not already having one with this crew, I don’t know what’s going on,” Luke retorted.

Brighteyes stepped in again. “Alright, alright, let’s all just—”

At that moment, Shedletsky stood tall. “Okay, I’ve had it. Time to go back to my real work. Let’s see who needs a dose of dad jokes today.”

And with that, the room was flooded with a chorus of groans from every corner of the hospital.

...

The hospital was buzzing as usual. Patients groaned, the machines beeped with an unwavering rhythm, and nurses scurried about in the chaos that was their daily grind. But today was different. Today, a new breed of chaos had entered the fray: Clockwork and Stickmasterluke, now reluctantly tagged along by Brighteyes and her incessant need to “spread the cheer” across the hospital.

Clockwork and Stickmasterluke, after their "charming" welcome with Shedletsky, were tasked with meeting the rest of the hospital staff. Brighteyes had given them a stern talking-to about being "kind" to the other nurses, so they both walked through the halls, looking like they were just here to collect a paycheck and go home. But little did they know, the hospital had a lot more eccentricities than they’d ever been briefed on.

First stop: Noob.

“Noob?” Clockwork said, peering around a corner. “Is this...?”

“That’s them,” Luke responded, adjusting his lab coat like it was part of his superhero costume. “They’re the newbie, right?”

They turned the corner to find Noob standing at the nurses' station, slapping sticky notes onto every surface in sight with a sort of caffeinated urgency. “Good morning! Be brave, be strong! You’ve got this! Stay positive!” they were chanting to themselves as they plastered another note on the vending machine.

Clockwork blinked. “Well, this is a first.”

“Ah, yes, motivational sticky notes,” Luke deadpanned. “We’ve all been there.”

Noob, noticing the two newcomers, gave a smile so wide it could’ve lit up the whole room. “Oh! Hi!! You must be the guests! Welcome to the madness! I’m Noob! I like to leave motivational notes all around here. Keeps the vibes high.”

Clockwork, trying not to laugh, offered a stiff handshake. “Right. I’m Clockwork, retired nurse... and this is Stickmasterluke, your friendly neighborhood doctor.”

Luke gave a casual wave. “Pleased to meet you. I assume you’re the one keeping this hospital... positive?”

“Yep! I write these to remind everyone that they’re doing amazing!” Noob said, pointing proudly at the sticky notes, which were now scattered across nearly every surface— even the ceiling. “Even if you’re a little sick, you can still be great!”

Luke nodded seriously, pretending to inspect a random sticky note. “Well, this one says ‘You’re a warrior,’ and I don’t know\... does this count as medical advice?”

Clockwork gave Luke a long, side-eye look. “I think it’s more motivational than medically sound, but I can’t say no to some positivity.”

Noob beamed. “Exactly! I even leave one for the patients. It’s a little weird, but I think it helps!”

Luke and Clockwork exchanged glances, both silently agreeing that this hospital was a lot stranger than they'd expected. But hey, no harm in spreading some good vibes.

Next up was Guest 1337.

Clockwork strolled up to the nurse’s station, where Guest 1337 was hunched over, scribbling on a chart with laser focus. Clockwork cleared his throat.

“Hey! You’re Guest 1337, right?”

Guest 1337 didn’t look up, but his voice was calm and kind. “Yeah. Can I help you?”

Luke smirked. “We just wanted to say ‘hi’ and check out how you’re running things around here. I hear you’re the ‘cool’ nurse who knows how to get things done.”

Guest 1337 finally looked up, giving them a smile that, though faint, was genuine. “Nice to meet you both. I’ve heard a lot about you guys.”

Luke snorted. “Yeah? Any good stuff?”

“Depends on who you ask,” Guest 1337 said, half-smiling, before turning back to the chart. “But yeah, I’m a fan of the quiet, helpful vibes. I’m not big on the whole... grand entrance thing.” He paused, tapping the pen against the chart. “You guys okay with that?”

“Absolutely,” Clockwork said, his arms crossed. “Seems like you're doing great here.”

Next, they were off to see Dusekkar. 

“Dusekkar, right?” Luke asked as they approached the doctor. “You’re the one who’s always so serious, huh?”

Dusekkar, who had been watching a reading a book with an almost comically intense focus, looked up and grinned. “Oh, I’m not serious all the time. But I do take my work seriously. And you must be...”

“Stickmasterluke,” Luke said, puffing his chest a little. “Here to offer a refresher course in doctoring.”

“And I’m Clockwork,” Clockwork added, nodding, “just here for the reunion tour.”

Dusekkar squinted for a moment, then laughed. “Wait, Clockwork? You used to work with me at that other hospital, didn’t you?”

Clockwork smiled smugly. “That’s right, my friend. I was *the* nurse back in the day.”

Dusekkar chuckled. “Well, well, look who’s back. It’s nice to see a familiar face in this... circus.” He eyed Luke. “And you... the *legendary* Stickmasterluke?”

“Legendary? Is that how people refer to me now?” Luke asked, pretending to be humbled.

Dusekkar raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah. Mostly because you cause a mess everywhere you go.”

“Fair enough,” Luke said with a dramatic sigh. “But enough about me. Let’s get to the best part.”

And now\... the moment they had all been dreading. The one that would make or break this visit.

Clockwork and Luke made their way down the hall, searching for—

Elliot and iTrapped.

They could hear soft chatter from behind the door, so they knocked lightly, only to get no response.

Pushing it open slowly, the scene they walked in on stopped them dead in their tracks.

There, at the desk, were Elliot and iTrapped—holding hands. Not just casually holding hands. Intertwined fingers like they were in some weirdly wholesome romantic drama. Elliot, completely oblivious, was focused on writing something down on his clipboard, while iTrapped had fallen asleep, his head resting on the desk, the gentle rise and fall of his chest the only sign he was still alive.

Clockwork’s eyes widened. Luke’s jaw dropped.

“What the helly,” Clockwork said, in shock.

Luke could only whisper, “Is this... real? Did they just... fall asleep holding hands?”

Elliot looked up and blinked at them, completely nonchalant. “mhn? New visitors?.. Oh wait,” elliot stopped, narrowing his eyes in these two. 

"you're the two that brighteyes warned about."

Brighteyes warned them about.. Them? Woah, sounds exciting. 

Elliot seemed to notice the excitement, "she only warned me about how you two create the fun'est and stupidest shit ever."

..ouh...

Meanwhile, iTrapped stirred just slightly, mumbling something that was more of a mumble than a sentence. "Pull your... Pants up you loser..." He let out a soft snore.

Clockwork had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. “So... this is your professional nurse vibe? Holding hands in the middle of a shift?”

Luke just grinned and shook his head. “Well, I suppose this is... a choice.”

Elliot, still not registering the awkwardness, shrugged. “What? He fell asleep. What’s wrong with me keeping him company?”

Luke and Clockwork exchanged a look. This was definitely going to be a long day.

Shedletsky was pacing back and forth in his office, running a hand through his hair. He had no idea what to expect from Clockwork and Stickmasterluke after their tour of the hospital, but it couldn’t be anything too crazy... right?

The door creaked open, and in walked Clockwork and Luke, looking like they had just survived some kind of hospital apocalypse.

Shedletsky, ever the dad-joke enthusiast, gave them a nod. “Hey, fellas. How was the tour? Find any new victims—uh, I mean, patients?”

Clockwork, looking like he had seen the face of pure madness, let out a long, exaggerated sigh.

“I—” Clockwork started, shaking his head slowly, “I think I need a vacation... or at least some... serious therapy.”

Shedletsky raised an eyebrow. “Oh no. What happened?”

Luke, who had the mischievous grin of a man who had just discovered a secret level of chaos, leaned back in his chair— his white-clean wings shifting. “Oh, where do I start? Clockwork, you want to handle this one, or should I?”

Clockwork shot Luke a glare. “I’m still processing everything, but okay, fine. Buckle up.”

Shedletsky, intrigued and excited in equal measure, leaned forward. “Oh man, this is gonna be good. Lay it on me.”

Luke grinned. “Alright, so first stop was Noob.”

Clockwork cut in. “Noob? The ‘motivational sticky note enthusiast’? Yeah, that was... something.”

Shedletsky blinked. “What, are we talking about the kid who just slaps notes everywhere to ‘stay positive’? Is that the vibe now?”

Luke laughed. “Exactly. You walk into the room, and boom—inspirational messages on every surface. The vending machine? Positive affirmation. The ceiling tiles? Yep, you guessed it—‘You’re amazing!’ written upside down.”

Shedletsky laughed so hard, he almost choked on his own spit. “Oh god. I knew this hospital was nuts, but I didn't know it was that nuts.”

Clockwork, though, didn’t seem quite as amused. “Yeah, well, it gets better. Then we met Guest 1337.”

“Ah, 1337,” Shedletsky said, nodding. “A man of few words, but a lot of helpfulness.”

“Helpful?” Luke scoffed. “Yeah, sure. He’s nice, but you’d swear the guy was made out of grit and stone when you first meet him. I thought he was gonna hand me a scalpel and say, ‘Time to operate!’ instead of greeting us.”

Shedletsky chuckled. “Sounds about right. Anything else? What about Dusekkar?”

Clockwork’s face went completely deadpan. “Dusekkar? He’s basically an alarm clock in human form. We walk in, and it’s like we’re in a morgue... no humor, just straight business. It was like being back in the military.”

Luke chuckled. “Yeah, I’m still not over it. He didn’t even flinch when I accidentally dropped a cup. Not one ounce of emotion.”

Shedletsky shook his head, trying not to laugh. “Classic Dusekkar. He's the most nicest guy here, aside from noob.. Anyway, what happened next? Tell me, did you two finally get to meet Elliot and iTrapped? I swear, those two are basically magnetically attached to each other.”

At the mention of Elliot and iTrapped, Luke’s grin widened. “Oh, we found them alright,” he said, his voice growing dramatic. “And let me tell you, what we saw... well, it was like walking into a rom-com except it was hospital-grade awkward.”

Shedletsky’s eyes widened, his ears perking up like a dog hearing the word “walk.” “Wait—what? What happened?”

Clockwork and Luke exchanged looks. Luke burst out laughing, the sound almost echoing in the room. “So, there they were—Elliot, busy writing stuff on his clipboard, all serious, like a model doctor—and iTrapped...”

Clockwork rolled his eyes. “And iTrapped was asleep... but with his head resting on the desk. And their hands—their hands were intertwined.”

Shedletsky froze. “Wait, wait. Hold up.” He slowly sat back down in his chair, trying to process the information. “Elliot... and iTrapped...?”

“Yup,” Luke said, miming the act of their hands being intertwined. “It was like romantic comedy meet-cute, except... way more awkward.”

Clockwork cleared his throat. “I mean, it was almost like they didn’t even notice. Like they’re so used to this level of... awkward affection that it didn’t even register with them.”

Shedletsky leaned forward, wide-eyed. “And you just... walked in on that?”

Luke nodded. “Yup. And Elliot, the professional doctor, didn’t even bat an eye. He just kept writing stuff down on his clipboard like nothing was happening.”

Clockwork let out a groan. “I still haven’t fully processed it. I just wanted to go to the break room for a cup of coffee and instead I walk into that. It’s a disaster.”

Shedletsky could barely contain his laughter. “You’re telling me that the mighty Elliot... Elliot, who never misses a chance to be professional, is out here holding hands with iTrapped, the one guy who stares at you in disgust and disappointment? What kind of... Fanfiction am I living in?”

Luke held up his hands. “Hey, don’t ask me. I was just the observer. Clockwork, though...”

Clockwork shot Luke a look. “Let’s just say, I’m glad I’m retired. This place isn’t for the faint of heart.”

Shedletsky sat back in his chair, chuckling to himself. “I swear, the chaos here never ends. But look, don’t you worry about Elliot and iTrapped. Those two? They’ve been through enough together that it’s probably... normal for them.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “Normal? You call this normal? I think my brain just exploded. But hey, what’s normal in this place anyway?”

Shedletsky cracked his knuckles. “You’re right. There’s no such thing as normal here. But honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Clockwork sighed. “Well, next time I come back, I expect at least a heads up about the hand-holding business.”

“Deal,” Shedletsky said, with a wink. “I’ll even make you some special coffee. Maybe it’ll help you survive the next round of weirdness.”

Luke just shook his head. “I’ll need more than coffee to survive this place.”

Chapter Text

The halls of the hospital had a quiet hum, like a lull between the chaos of patients and doctors. Most of the staff had their hands full today, so it was up to Noob to go down the checklist of patient check-ins. Most were routine: just a quick update or medication distribution. But today, there was one file that stood out.

Azure’s file.

Noob had been skimming through it for the past few days but hadn’t paid much attention to the details. But today, something made them pause.

It had been a while since anyone had checked on Azure, aside from the usual medication rounds or check-ups. And there was that subtle discomfort Noob couldn’t shake off every time they thought about Azure's diagnosis. They didn’t know exactly what was going on—there was something about body dysmorphia or conversion disorder that was still foreign to them. But they did know that whatever it was, Azure wasn’t the most forthcoming with their feelings. They preferred to keep their distance.

Noob tried not to think too much about it. They had a job to do, and that was enough of a focus. Besides, Dusekkar and Elliot were both wrapped up in other patients, and this was as good a time as any.

With a deep breath, Noob adjusted their uniform and walked down the hallway toward Azure's room. Their hands, ever so slightly, felt clammy against the folder they held. The room wasn’t far from the nurse station, tucked in a quiet corner. A soft knock against the doorframe and a whispered, “Azure?” was all it took to announce their presence.

Inside, Azure sat by the window, gazing out with an expression that seemed both detached and lost. They were always like this—aloof, distant, like a flicker of a shadow that no one could quite grasp. The faint lines of their face were unreadable, but the tension in their shoulders told a different story.

Azure didn’t even turn around. There was a slight tilt of their head, acknowledging the presence without much more.

Noob hesitated, standing there awkwardly, their eyes flicking between the file in their hands and Azure’s unmoving back. They had seen Azure in passing, but this was different. This wasn’t a quick check-up or a prescribed round of medicine. This was personal. And Noob couldn’t shake the feeling that their presence might be unwanted.

"Um, hey, Azure," Noob said, their voice soft, as if testing the waters. "I thought I’d come check on you. You know... not for any, uh, check-up stuff. Just, you know... seeing how you’re doing."

Azure’s eyes never left the window, but Noob could swear there was a shift in the air. Maybe a deepened breath or a subtle stiffening of their posture. Still, they remained silent.

Noob waited. They weren't about to force anything, but they couldn't just leave it like this either. Azure deserved more than just being an afterthought on the list of patients. With a gentle sigh, Noob walked a little further into the room and took a seat on the edge of the bed. The sound of their uniform rustling filled the otherwise silent space.

"I know I’m not exactly the best at this... but," Noob started, fingers nervously tapping against the clipboard, "I thought you might want someone to talk to. I mean, you’ve been pretty... well, quiet lately."

Azure shifted, their lips pressing into a thin line, but still they didn’t turn around. Noob bit their lip, unsure of how to proceed. They had a thousand questions, a thousand things they wanted to ask, but none of them felt appropriate. How could they even ask about what Azure was going through without crossing a line? They had heard bits and pieces from the doctors about Azure’s condition, but it was all vague—just enough to make them worried, but not enough to truly understand.

The silence stretched. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t exactly welcoming either.

“I get it," Noob said, their voice breaking the quiet like a fragile piece of glass. "You don’t want to talk about it. I don’t blame you. But, you know, if you ever do—if you ever need to—I'm here."

Azure’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly, and finally, they turned their head slightly to glance at Noob. There was a faint flicker of something—maybe confusion, maybe curiosity—in their eyes. But it was brief. They didn’t speak, but they didn't look away either.

It was enough for Noob. They didn’t need to be a mind reader to know this was progress, even if it was a small one. Slowly, Noob placed the file down on the nearby counter and leaned forward slightly, their tone softer than before.

“I don’t know what you’re going through, Azure. But I’ve seen people go through hard stuff... and sometimes, just knowing that someone’s out there, that you’re not alone, can make all the difference.”

Azure let out a small breath, almost imperceptible. A sign, maybe, that they were processing the words, but still too guarded to respond.

Noob waited, offering the space, the room to breathe. They understood the need for space more than most, and they weren’t about to push. But still, they couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take before Azure would feel comfortable enough to let someone in. To open up.

After a long, quiet moment, Azure finally broke their silence, though it wasn’t in the way Noob expected. It wasn’t a verbal answer at all. Instead, Azure slowly turned fully toward them, eyes still wide but no longer distant. There was something in their gaze—maybe a flicker of vulnerability, of hidden pain, of trust.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start. And to Noob, that was enough.

"Thank you," Azure murmured, their voice low and a bit strained. "I didn't think anyone would come."

Noob smiled softly, relief washing over them. "Anytime, Azure. Anytime."

...

Azure shifted uncomfortably in their chair, the silence thick in the room between them and Noob. For a moment, it seemed like they were going to retreat into that detached state again, the one that Noob was so familiar with. But then, without warning, Azure spoke.

“I hate it,” they muttered, their voice laced with frustration, though they still refused to make eye contact.

Noob leaned in, intrigued. “Hate what?”

Azure’s gaze snapped to the window again, almost as if avoiding Noob’s. “I hate how it feels... like everything’s out of my control. Like I can’t even trust my own mind.” Azure’s tone was sharp, a mix of bitterness and something else—something darker that Noob couldn’t quite name.

Noob was silent, letting Azure speak, knowing that the smallest encouragement was sometimes all it took to get someone to open up.

“I get these... these feelings, you know? Like something’s coming for me. And I don't know if it’s just in my head, or if it’s real. And the worst part? It's like no one understands it. Not even the doctors.” Azure’s voice faltered slightly as they continued. “Except... Two Time. They get it.”

Noob blinked, trying to follow. “Two Time? I didn’t know you were close to them.”

Azure’s jaw tightened at the mention of Two Time’s name, their eyes narrowing, not with anger, but with a complex, unspoken emotion. “Close? Ha. I don’t even know what ‘close’ means anymore. They... they’re tied to all of this. This illness. The cult we’re in—The Spawn—it’s like... it’s like we’re all twisted up together.”

The words hung in the air, and Noob could feel the gravity of what Azure was saying. They didn’t have all the details, but the mention of The Spawn—and the connection between Azure and Two Time—was a puzzle piece that Noob had never seen. Noob’s curiosity was piqued, but they tread carefully, not wanting to push too hard.

“Twisted?” Noob asked, keeping their tone neutral, trying to coax out more. “What do you mean? Does Two Time have something to do with your diagnosis?”

Azure’s hands clenched into fists, but they didn’t answer immediately. The words were locked away, hidden behind layers of confusion and frustration. They leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on their knees, as if the room had become too small, too suffocating.

“Sometimes... I feel like I’m fine, you know? Like I’m in control. But then, when they’re near...” Azure’s voice broke for a moment, then steadied. “When Two Time’s around, it’s like my mind shifts. I can’t explain it. It’s not their fault—I can’t control it. But... I get these... episodes.”

Azure’s eyes flicked to Noob, a brief flash of something that felt like vulnerability. “It’s like... something inside of me just snaps when they’re around. And it’s always been like that, ever since we got involved with The Spawn.”

Noob was silent for a moment, processing what Azure had just revealed. The pieces were starting to fall into place, though it still didn’t make much sense. “So, you think Two Time is part of... what’s happening to you?”

Azure nodded, though they looked away again. “I don’t know if it’s their fault, or if it’s just me... But I can't shake the feeling that something's happening to both of us. Something bigger than either of us understands. And every time they look at me... I feel like I’m unraveling.”

Noob felt the weight of Azure’s words settle in the room. This wasn’t just about the illness or the diagnosis anymore. This was about something far deeper—something tied to their connection with Two Time. Noob had heard whispers about The Spawn, but the cult’s grip on people was something that still felt too abstract for them to grasp fully. Now, seeing the way it was affecting Azure, the pieces were starting to fit together.

“Azure...” Noob began, their voice gentle, but edged with concern. “You don’t have to go through this alone. I mean, I don’t know how Two Time fits into all of this, but you don’t have to keep all of this inside. You’ve got people who care about you.”

Azure let out a short, bitter laugh. “Care about me? You don’t even know the half of it.” Their eyes were wide, filled with something Noob couldn’t quite place—regret? Anger? Fear? “Two Time and I... it’s complicated. I don’t even know if I can trust myself, let alone them. And yet... I can’t stop feeling like I’m... drawn to them. Like I’m tied to them in some way that I can’t escape.”

The confession was like a dagger, cutting through the thin veil of control that Azure had maintained. Noob’s heart ached for them, but they didn’t push. Instead, they simply nodded, offering a quiet understanding.

“I’m not asking you to figure it all out right now,” Noob said softly. “I’m just... here. You don’t have to carry it all alone.”

Azure’s gaze flickered back to Noob, and for the first time, their eyes held a trace of something softer. A fleeting moment of vulnerability.

“Maybe,” Azure murmured, their voice barely a whisper. “Maybe I don’t.”

...

But damn,

Wasnt that months ago?

Azure seemed to change.

Noob stood in front of Azure's door, a strange sense of déjà vu washing over them. They had been here before—had knocked and checked in countless times. But today? Today was different. The hospital hallways felt quieter than usual, like the calm before a storm. Noob could hear the low hum of machinery in the distance, but everything else felt... off.

They took a deep breath, steadying themselves. It was their job. Their duty. To care for the patients, no matter how difficult or... unsettling things had become.

But as they reached out for the door handle, a strange unease lingered in their gut. Something about Azure had changed—had shifted. Noob couldn’t pinpoint when exactly it happened, but it felt like it was all happening too quickly.

They remembered the calm, the uncertainty in Azure’s eyes. The vulnerability. The way they had opened up about Two Time and the tangled mess that was their connection.

But that Azure? That person was gone.

Noob hadn’t seen them in weeks, but today, they could feel it.

The walls of the room were no longer pristine. Black... black drawings marred the white space, twisting in strange, unnerving shapes. Tentacles. Black goo, dark and writhing, stretched across the walls like some kind of horrific art.

Noob swallowed, staring at the unsettling marks for a long moment. A part of them wanted to turn and walk away, but the other part—the one that was still committed to their role—steeled themselves.

They knocked softly, then cracked the door open.

“Azure?” Their voice, normally soft and comforting, held a quiet edge today—tinged with concern. “It’s Noob. Just checking in.”

Inside, Azure was sitting in the corner of the room, their back to the door. Their head was down, but Noob could see the roughness in their posture. They seemed tense, coiled like a spring, ready to snap at the slightest provocation.

Noob hesitated, watching for any sign of acknowledgment, but Azure remained still. It was like they didn’t care. Or worse, like they didn’t even notice.

Finally, Azure spoke, their voice flat, cold, and detached.

“What do you want?”

Noob flinched at the harsh tone, their eyes narrowing. There was no warmth in the voice, no trace of the person they used to know. This was someone else—someone they didn’t understand. It was like the very air around them had thickened, becoming suffocating.

"I... I just wanted to check on you," Noob said, their voice unwavering despite the growing discomfort. “You’ve been drawing on the walls. I—”

“Don’t.” Azure’s voice snapped, cutting Noob off mid-sentence. They didn’t even turn around. “I don’t need you to check on me. I don’t need anyone.”

There was a sharpness in their words that wasn’t there before. A venom that laced the air between them, curling around the space like a physical barrier. Noob’s heart dropped in their chest, but they stood firm, determined.

“I’m just doing my job, Azure,” Noob said, trying to keep the tension from their voice. “You’re still a patient here. I need to make sure you’re okay.”

Azure’s shoulders stiffened, and they slowly turned their head just enough for Noob to see the coldness in their eyes. “I’m fine.” The words were a bitter, sharp declaration.

Noob's eyes flicked back to the drawings on the wall—those black, twisted shapes. It was unsettling, unnerving. Something was very wrong here, and Noob could feel the creeping dread spreading through them. “You’re really not acting fine. I... I don’t know what this is, but it’s not healthy, Azure.”

A cold laugh escaped Azure’s lips, dark and humorless. “Healthy?” Their voice was like ice, every word cutting deeper than the last. “What do you even know about it? You don’t know what’s going on in my head. You don’t know anything.”

Noob took a step forward, their resolve hardening. They couldn’t back down now. “I don’t have to understand everything to see that you need help. You’re pushing people away, Azure. You’re pushing me away.”

Azure’s eyes flashed dangerously, their lips curling into a sneer. “Good. I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone. I’ve been fine without you all, and I’ll be fine without you now.”

The air between them grew heavier, suffocating. Noob felt the shift in Azure’s presence—a change that had happened so gradually, yet it felt sudden and unrecognizable.

There was a harsh tension in the room now, a palpable barrier that felt impenetrable. Azure’s posture remained rigid, their fists clenched at their sides. The cruel, bitter words they threw at Noob were meant to push them away, but Noob wasn’t going to let it go. Not this time.

“I’m not leaving, Azure,” Noob said, their voice quiet but determined. “Not until we talk.”

Azure’s lips pressed into a thin line, their anger palpable. They opened their mouth, probably to snap back with something cruel, but for a moment... just a moment, there was something in their eyes. Something that flickered with doubt. Or perhaps... fear?

Noob didn’t let the moment pass. “You don’t have to do this alone,” they added softly, but firmly. “You can push me away all you want, but I’m not going anywhere. Not this time.”

The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Azure didn’t speak again, but Noob could feel the weight of the room—like something was about to break.

Noob stood in front of the medical station, their hands clasped together nervously. It had been a week since that last conversation with Azure—the one that had left the room thick with tension, the one where Noob had made it clear they weren’t going to back down.

And so, Noob had started the notes. They weren’t much, really. Just small, sticky notes with simple, affirming words. It started with “You matter,” left quietly on the counter where Azure would see it. No response. So Noob kept going.

They tried a different approach the next day: “You’re not alone.” And the day after that, “There’s more to you than this.”

Azure’s door had been closed every time Noob left the notes, the hallway always quiet. But in the moments they weren’t looking, Noob had hoped—just hoped—that something might get through.

But every time Noob checked, the notes remained untouched. Not crumpled. Not moved. Just ignored. Like they never existed.

Today, Noob slipped a fresh note under the door, the words carefully written: "Even the darkest days have an end."

They stood for a moment, staring at the note under the door, feeling a strange knot twist in their stomach. Maybe Azure would see it today. Maybe they wouldn’t. It didn’t matter. Noob would keep going, no matter how invisible their efforts seemed. They couldn’t give up. Not when someone was so clearly in pain.

And yet, there was still that quiet voice in Noob’s head that doubted. What was the point if Azure wasn’t even acknowledging it? Was it a waste?

They couldn’t let it be. Azure needed someone. Even if they weren’t ready to admit it.

Noob gave the door one last look before they walked away, keeping their pace steady. Their footsteps echoed in the empty hall, but it was a small, resolute step toward something they still didn’t fully understand.

Azure sat on their bed, staring blankly at the note that had been slipped under the door.

The note was still there—untouched, just like the others. Azure didn’t need to read it. They didn’t need to look at it. The words were nothing more than noise, a small gesture from someone who couldn’t possibly understand.

They had learned long ago to shut everyone out. No one could get through. Not even themself.

And yet, something about the notes... annoyed them. The little words on the paper that Noob left, always so kind, always so hopeful, were a reminder of everything Azure didn’t want to face.

Azure sighed, leaning back against the cold wall. The silence of the room pressed down harder each day, like a weight they couldn’t lift.

For a long moment, they stared at the note, their eyes not focusing on the words but on the way the paper seemed to glow in the dim light of the room. You’re not alone.

They reached out, fingers brushing the edge of the note, before quickly pulling away.

No. They weren’t going to fall for it.

Azure stood up abruptly, the motion jerky, as if the weight of the moment had become too much to bear. They walked over to the note, grabbed it without a second thought, and slid it under the bed. No one would ever see it again.

The other notes were probably still somewhere in the room. Hidden. Never to be acknowledged.

Azure had made it clear to Noob: they didn’t need anyone.

Noob continued leaving the notes, day after day. Each one written with the same quiet determination. Some days, Noob left three or four of them. Other days, just one. Each note, a tiny lifeline in a place that felt so dark, so empty.

But to Azure, they remained just words. Unseen. Unfelt.

Noob could feel the weight of those silent rejections, but still, they wrote. They never stopped.

One day, after a particularly long shift, Noob walked past Azure's room again, still unsure whether their notes had any impact. They approached the door, eyes darting to the crack beneath it. They had left one earlier, right there on the threshold.

To their surprise, the note was gone. It wasn’t under the door anymore.

Noob’s heart skipped a beat.

Had Azure finally—? No, it was silly to get their hopes up. They reached down to grab the door handle, but paused.

Instead of entering the room, Noob stood still, staring at the spot. The note had vanished, but nothing else had changed. There was no sign of Azure.

Fuck. 

Chapter Text

Elliot hadn’t expected this when he signed up for his shift.

The hospital corridors were unnervingly quiet, the only sound echoing in the sterile halls was the rhythmic clicking of his shoes. He had asked everyone, or tried to, about Azure—checked in with the staff, patients, anyone who might give him a decent answer. But instead of comfort, he had been met with awkward silence, evasive responses, or sheer disinterest.

I haven't.

I'm good, don’t wanna approach them.

Too busy.

Not my problem.

I'm busy, can't you see?

Each rejection cut deeper than he expected. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting; after all, Azure hadn’t exactly been pleasant to be around lately. They'd been drawing on the walls—black tentacles creeping up in jagged spirals, strange shapes that seemed to pulse with some hidden darkness. Their demeanor had shifted from that once-soft, introspective air to something rougher, sharper. Azure had become unpredictable, volatile, and Elliot had no clue how to handle it.

But someone had to, right? As much as Azure’s attitude made his gut twist, he couldn’t ignore the creeping feeling that something was off. He wasn’t one to shy away from things, especially when it involved someone who was struggling.

With no one else willing to face Azure, Elliot had no choice but to step in. He wasn’t about to let his patient go unchecked for too long.

The door to Azure’s room stood before him. The faint smell of ink and something earthy lingered in the air, a scent Elliot had become all too familiar with. Azure’s room was a mess—papers strewn across the floor, chaotic scribbles plastered all over the walls, some of them looking far too… sinister for his comfort.

You’ve got this, Elliot. It’s just a check-up. You’ve done worse.

He pushed the door open slowly, half-expecting the sharp sound to make Azure snap at him. But it didn’t. The room was eerily quiet. Azure was sitting near the window, staring out into the distance, their face a mask of indifference. The black paint they’d used to draw the tentacles on the walls had dried, leaving the room with an almost suffocating energy.

Elliot hesitated before stepping inside, keeping his voice soft, calm. “Azure?”

Azure didn’t turn around. “What?” The word was sharp, an edge to it, like a blade barely sheathed.

Elliot sighed, trying not to let his frustration show. He could feel the tension in the air, heavy, like something was about to snap. But he had to do this. “I just… wanted to check in. See how you’re doing.”

Azure’s lips curled into a smile, but it was empty—nothing in their eyes to suggest there was anything comforting about it. They finally turned to look at Elliot, the room’s low light reflecting off their eyes like dull glass.

“Doing? I’m fine, doctor. Is that all you needed?”

Elliot’s stomach tightened. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

There was a beat of silence. Azure’s gaze flicked away, but they didn’t look back out the window. Instead, they focused on the floor as if finding solace in the cracks of the tile.

“I’m not some project for you to fix, Elliot.” The words slipped out like venom, but there was something in their tone that hinted at… something else. A weariness that couldn’t be ignored.

Elliot clenched his fists, feeling his patience wearing thin. “I’m not here to fix you. I’m here to help you.”

“Help me?” Azure scoffed, their voice bitter. “I don’t need your help. I’m fine.” They dragged their hand across the floor, picking up a piece of paper and twirling it between their fingers. "Or is it that you're just worried about me becoming some 'problem' for the hospital?"

“No,” Elliot’s voice was firm, though he couldn’t mask the slight crack that betrayed his true feelings. “I’m worried about you, Azure. You’ve been changing, and I’m not the only one who’s noticed it.”

Azure’s lips twitched. “Yeah? So what? I’m supposed to be some… innocent little thing that you can fix with your sweet words and medical advice?”

Elliot shook his head, stepping a little closer, but not enough to invade their space. “I’m not trying to fix you. I’m just trying to understand. That’s all.”

Azure’s smile returned, this time dark, almost mocking. “You want to understand me?” They stood up suddenly, their movements sharp, jarring. “You think you understand me? No one does. Not you. Not anyone.”

The anger in their voice made Elliot flinch. But he couldn’t back down now—not when they were this close to unraveling.

“Then tell me. Help me understand. I’m trying, Azure. You’re not alone in this. You don’t have to be.”

There was a long, suffocating pause before Azure finally spoke, their voice almost a whisper. “You don’t get it, do you, Elliot? I don’t want anyone to understand me. I don’t want anyone to get close.”

Elliot’s heart sank at the rawness in Azure’s tone. The anger, the deflection—it was all a defense mechanism, wasn’t it? “You don’t have to push everyone away. You don’t have to be alone.”

Azure’s gaze flicked up to meet Elliot’s. Their eyes, normally so guarded, seemed almost… lost. “I’m not alone, Elliot. I’ve never been alone.”

Elliot felt his pulse quicken, and without thinking, he reached out, just a gentle touch on Azure’s shoulder, trying to anchor them. But the moment his hand made contact, Azure flinched, a sharp breath escaping them as if they’d been burned.

“You’re still pushing me away,” Elliot murmured, frustration creeping into his voice.

“Because it’s easier,” Azure said, their voice cracking. “Because if you don’t care, then you can’t hurt.”

Elliot’s hand dropped, and for a moment, silence filled the room again. This wasn’t just anger. This was something deeper. Something far more painful.

“Azure…” Elliot’s voice softened. “I do care. And I don’t want to hurt you.”

Azure’s eyes softened just a fraction, the sharp edge to them dulling, though they still wore a bitter mask. “Maybe it’s already too late for that.”

Elliot didn’t have an answer. All he could do was stand there, caught between the weight of Azure’s pain and his own helplessness. He wasn’t sure where to go from here, but one thing was clear:

This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

It was another Monday morning, and the cold hospital air felt a little heavier than usual. Elliot had been walking this route for a week now, his routine solidifying. It wasn’t like he didn’t have other patients to see—but Azure, despite everything, had somehow taken over his thoughts.

He knocked on the door gently, more out of habit than expectation. The same silence greeted him.

“Azure?” he called softly, before pushing the door open.

There they were—perched by the window, staring out at nothing, fingers tracing invisible patterns on the glass. Azure didn’t turn when Elliot entered.

“Same as always, huh?” Elliot said, taking a few cautious steps inside.

Azure’s voice, softer than usual, came from the shadows. “I’m not... used to people sticking around. You’re persistent.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Elliot said, a slight smile tugging at his lips as he settled down near the bed. "I’ve got time today. Let’s talk, yeah?"

Azure finally turned to look at him, their gaze unreadable. But there was a flicker in their eyes. Just a flash. “Fine. What do you want to talk about?”

Elliot leaned forward, looking for the opening. “Anything you want. Or nothing. Just… I’m here.”

By Tuesday, Elliot had noticed the change. The air between them wasn’t as tense. There was still distance, but something in the way Azure no longer flinched when he entered their room made Elliot believe they were getting closer.

Azure sat in the same spot by the window, but now they’d start talking about random things—disjointed at first. TV shows, food preferences, strange dreams. It wasn’t deep, but it was a start.

Elliot was catching on to the little things: the way Azure’s gaze softened when they spoke, the way their shoulders weren’t as stiff. It felt like the calm before something. Something that wasn’t anger. Maybe it was trust.

“That show you mentioned yesterday—what’s it about again?” Elliot asked, leaning back in his chair.

Azure shrugged, their lips curving slightly. “It’s a mess of a plot, but I like it. Kinda like my life right now.”

“You’re not the only one.” Elliot’s voice was light, a playful jab. But there was sincerity beneath the humor.

By Wednesday, the wall between them had cracked wide open. Azure wasn’t so cold anymore. Their interactions were genuine, less guarded, and Elliot could feel the shift in the way they spoke.

They talked about the small things now, not just the distant, impersonal stuff. Azure had even begun to share some of their memories—old, fractured pieces of a past that felt distant. Elliot listened. He always did.

When Elliot brought up the topic of their art on the walls, Azure didn’t shy away from the question.

“They’re just... things I see. Thoughts that won’t leave me alone.” Azure’s voice was quieter than usual, almost hesitant.

Elliot gave a soft nod. “They’re powerful. I see what you’re trying to say.”

Azure’s eyes met his. “Maybe you understand more than I thought.”

Thursday was the day the tension broke completely. Azure was no longer distant. They’d even started to joke around, teasing Elliot when he would show up late or when he tried too hard to make small talk. It felt natural. Like they were starting to ease into each other’s space, no longer strangers.

“What’s so funny today?” Elliot asked, noticing the way Azure’s lips twitched whenever he stumbled over something.

“I just can’t believe you’re still here,” Azure teased. “Most people would have given up by now. What makes you so special?”

Elliot leaned closer with a smile. “Maybe I’m stubborn.”

Azure raised an eyebrow. “Stubborn, huh? I’m starting to think you like torturing yourself.”

“Maybe I do.” Elliot chuckled, then gave them a look. “But I’m still not going anywhere.”

Azure looked away, their expression softening. For a moment, the wall wasn’t there anymore.

By Friday, it was clear: the dynamics had shifted. The once cold, prickly Azure now laughed a little louder, their eyes lingered on Elliot a little longer. There was a comfort in the silence that spoke volumes.

Elliot had almost gotten used to the routine of walking into the room, sitting by the window, and simply being there. But today was different. Today, Azure sat closer, their shoulder brushing against his for just a second.

“Why are you still here, Elliot?” Azure asked, voice low.

Elliot glanced over, the question catching him off guard. But there was something in their eyes now. Something soft. Maybe a little hopeful.

“I told you,” he said quietly, turning to face them. “I’m not leaving.”

Azure didn’t respond right away. They just stared at him for a moment, before finally speaking in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

“I don’t want you to leave.”

And just like that, something shifted again. The distance between them closed.

Saturday.

It wasn’t a big deal.

At least, that’s what Azure told themself.

The sun had bled through the blinds, painting the walls with hazy gold, soft and slanted. It was the kind of light Elliot always commented on—how warm it made the room look, how it softened the harshness of the hospital's sterile white.

But the room was cold today. Too quiet.

Azure sat on the edge of their bed, a dull pencil in one hand, a half-torn napkin in the other. They weren’t drawing today. Not like the other days. The tentacles, the shadows—they were already creeping along the walls in chaotic spirals, dried paint crusted in patterns only they could understand.

Their eyes flicked toward the door.

Usually, by now, it would’ve creaked open. Always the same knock. Always the same voice.

“Hey Azure. You sick of me yet?”

They hated how familiar that sentence had become. How they’d learned to predict it. How they’d started to like hearing it.

But this morning? Silence.

They tapped the pencil against the wall. Once. Twice. It made a faint, ticking sound—like a clock echoing in the empty space inside their head.

Azure scowled. “He’s a doctor. He has a life. You’re not special.”

Still.

They waited.

They stayed near the window, where they always sat. Not to look outside. Not to draw. Not to think. But because that’s where Elliot always found them.

Hours bled together. Noon turned into evening. Nothing changed.

The hallway passed with only the occasional nurse, footsteps too quick, voices too impersonal. No knock. No voice.

Where the hell is he?

Azure pressed a hand against their chest, frowning. The thud of their own heartbeat was too loud. Their fingers twitched. They picked up the napkin and tried to sketch something—anything. But it wouldn’t come.

Only a shaky, clumsy line dragged across the surface. Ugly. Uneven.

They crumpled it in their fist.

Sunday.

They told themself not to expect anything.

That yesterday was a fluke. That Elliot had probably been busy. Got pulled into emergency duty. Maybe he was helping some other patient. Maybe he was sick. Maybe—

Azure shook their head violently.

“Stop it,” they whispered. “You’re being stupid.”

But the ache in their chest had sunk deeper today. Not sharp like a knife, but heavy. Lingering. Dull.

They hadn’t even moved from their bed.

The window? Screw the window.

The notebook? The markers? Still untouched on the floor. Scattered like toys a child had gotten bored of.

They lay curled against their pillow, staring at the far wall—the one Elliot always sat against. It still had that one little doodle he teased them about. The one that had accidentally looked like him, and when he noticed, he just smiled.

“You trying to tell me something, Azure?”

Shut up, they’d said. But their ears had burned.

They hated that memory.

They hated that he hadn’t shown up again.

They hated the knock that never came.

They hated—

“I miss you.”

The words slipped out before they could stop them. Soft. Pathetic.

Their eyes widened.

They blinked hard, as if they could erase it from the air. Like if no one heard it, it wouldn’t be true. Like if they just stayed quiet, the weight in their chest would go away.

But it didn’t.

It sat there, a slow pulse beneath their ribs, aching like a bruise.

They rolled over, curling tighter into the sheets. His voice echoed in their head again, but it was faded now. Muffled.

“You don’t have to push people away.”

“I do.” They hissed, even though no one was there to argue. “Because they always leave anyway.”

Azure stood, barefoot, in the middle of the room. Their shadow stretched long under the flickering light overhead. The walls felt closer today. Smaller. Like they were caving in.

They approached the door.

They didn’t open it. Just… stood in front of it. Stared at the handle.

They imagined what they’d say if he walked in right now. Maybe something stupid. Maybe something bitter. Something like: “Took you long enough.”

But maybe, maybe something different.

“You came back.”

Their hand hovered near the doorknob, not turning it.

They wouldn’t go looking for him. No. They weren’t that desperate. They weren’t weak.

And yet… They stood there for far too long.

Just waiting.

Like a fool.

... 

Azure woke up with their back to the door, curled tight into their sheets, the air far too cold.

The silence wasn’t just around them now. It was in them. Crawling beneath their skin. Heavy in their throat.

They sat up and whispered into the dark, like it would reach someone.

“Elliot?”

No response.

Of course not.

But their voice cracked anyway.

And this time, when their fingers reached for a pencil, they didn’t draw tentacles. Or shadows. Or monsters. Just a soft, faint outline. Barely visible.

A man with kind eyes and messy hair.

And they hated it.

They hated how familiar he’d become.

They hated how quiet it felt without him.

And most of all?

They hated how much they wanted tomorrow to come—

Just to see if he’d walk in again.

The silence was starting to rot.

Azure had stopped counting the hours. Days blurred together. It was always the same ceiling, the same shadows, the same ache in their chest they couldn’t shake. Elliot hadn’t come back. Not Saturday. Not Sunday. And now—

Now it was Monday, and Azure had long since sworn off hope.

So when they heard footsteps approaching from the hallway—slow, even, getting closer—they hated the way their heart jumped. Just a flicker of it. Hope, or maybe memory.

Elliot always walked like that—like the floor would whisper back.

They sat up, slow and cautious, their ears straining.

The footsteps stopped.

A knock.

Their breath hitched. Was it—

But when the door cracked open, it wasn’t Elliot. It was Dusekkar.

Azure’s shoulders dropped, expression neutral. Cold, even. “You.”

The doctor offered a polite nod. “You’re being moved to another room for a routine evaluation.”

“Routine,” Azure echoed flatly, dragging their legs off the bed. “Because I’m the concern. Right.”

“You are still a patient, Azure,” Dusekkar said simply, clipboard in hand. “And your behavior’s been flagged. Scribbles on the walls. Refusing meals. Disruptive energy. You’re lucky we haven’t restrained you.”

Azure smirked, dark and slow. “Try it. I’ll bite.”

Dusekkar gave no reaction. He turned, waiting at the door. “Come on.”

Azure followed. Barefoot. Silent. Ghost-like.

The hallway was washed in that same dull hospital glow, humming faintly overhead. They hated it. Too white. Too loud.

As they walked, Azure’s eyes wandered—bored, bitter. Until—

They stopped.

Mid-step.

Just ahead, down the corridor, stood a tall figure. Guest 666.

And at his side—closer, crouched—Elliot.

Azure’s stomach twisted, sudden and sour.

The doctor was checking the IV line, fingers moving expertly. Focused. Attentive. Of course he was. But Azure wasn’t looking at his hands.

They were staring at that tail.

Wrapped around Elliot’s leg.

Neon red.

Slick. Sinewy. Unmistakably wrong. Like something born from fire and nightmares. The kind of thing you’d only see if you were cursed enough to notice.

Azure blinked.

It was still there.

Elliot didn’t even seem aware.

And Guest 666 Just stood there. Towering. Still. Staring down at Elliot with an unreadable expression—hands behind his back like a soldier, or a beast waiting to pounce. No voice. No sound. Just watching.

It made Azure’s skin crawl.

A chill crept up their spine. The tail pulsed once, tightening slightly around Elliot’s thigh, possessive. Intimate. Wrong.

Azure’s jaw clenched.

They felt it then—hot, sharp. A spike behind the ribs. Not fear.

Jealousy.

Shit—its so disgusting. 

They’d never felt it this hard before. Never like this. It was suffocating. Ugly. Twisting around their throat like that tail around Elliot’s leg.

Dusekkar kept walking ahead, oblivious. “Azure?”

They didn’t respond.

Their eyes were locked on Elliot—who finally looked at guest 666, offering a small smile to Guest 666, and talked about his case. Nothing special. Just that soft, professional thing he always wore.

But Azure had seen the look Elliot gave them just a few days ago. Heard how gentle his voice became when they talked. That wasn’t the same smile.

Still, it twisted the knife in deeper.

Azure’s fists curled at their sides.

Tch.

They didn’t say it aloud, but the sound echoed in their skull like a growl. Like a warning. Like a sound a predator makes when something steps too close to its claim.

Guest 666 slowly tilted his head in Azure’s direction. Just slightly. As if he knew he was being watched.

That smug bastard.

Azure forced their feet to move.

They passed the two—Elliot didn’t even look up.

Good.

Azure didn’t want him to.

Or maybe they did.

They kept walking, heart racing, vision tight. The slick sound of that demonic tail unwrapping echoed faintly in their ears. The hallway suddenly felt colder than it had all week.

This wasn’t over.

Not even close.

Somewhere deeper down the hall, Azure spoke. Quiet. Bitter.

“Is that who you’ve been busy with…?”

The hospital halls reeked of bleach and boredom.

But not for him.

Guest 666 stood tall, still, back straight, hands folded behind him. His IV pole rattled slightly as Elliot adjusted the line, those gentle fingers brushing against cold metal.

So focused. So dutiful. So stupidly unaware.

Or maybe not. Because Elliot didn’t pull away when the tail wrapped around him.

Not today.

The tail—his tail—slinked around Elliot’s thigh, neon red and slick with unnatural shine. Not dripping, not bleeding—just there, pulsing faintly like it had a heartbeat of its own.

It slithered up slowly, curling like a serpent, confident and deliberate. It had done this before. It knew Elliot would tolerate it.

Elliot said nothing about it.

Just balanced on the tips of his toes, arms raised, adjusting the height of the IV pole.

So obedient. So easy to touch.

Guest 666 tilted his head down slightly, watching Elliot from above. There was something satisfying about the way the doctor’s coat pulled upward, tight around the back as Elliot stretched. The faintest flutter in his breathing. The way his knees flexed to balance.

He could feel Elliot’s leg muscles shift against his tail.

He smirked.

The tail knew exactly what it was doing.

And so did he.

“You’re unusually quiet,” Elliot murmured, breath soft with concentration, unaware—or pretending not to notice—the tightening around his thigh.

666’s voice rumbled low, velvet and static. “You’re unusually close.”

“I’m working,” Elliot replied, still not turning his head. “You asked me to check your line.”

“Mm. I did.” The tail gave a tiny squeeze. Not enough to bruise, just enough to remind him:

A silent, warm pressure just above the knee.

Elliot didn’t move. He didn’t push it away. His lips pressed into a thin line, but there was no protest.

Guest 666 leaned closer, not touching, just watching. Watching the breath catch slightly in Elliot’s throat.

He’s used to me now, 666 thought with smug amusement. Foolish little doctor. But I'll think that moob is more foolish.

But then, he heard it.

A shift. A disturbance in the static air of the corridor. Eyes watching. Tension slicing through the sterile calm.

He didn’t have to look to know who it was.

Azure.

Guest 666 smiled.

His tail pulsed again, tighter. Slow. Possessive.

Like it was performing now. Showing off.

You’re watching, aren’t you?

Good.

He angled his body just slightly—enough that Azure would see the way Elliot leaned closer to the pole.

How his balance tipped forward just a little.

How the tail held him still.

It was subtle. But perfect.

“I think I’ll request you more often, Doctor,” 666 murmured, voice low enough to vibrate through the tile. “You’re thorough.”

Elliot, still reaching, rolled his eyes just faintly. “You say that like you’re doing me a favor.”

“Oh, but I am.”

666’s grin widened.

He could glance at Azure. Just a flick of the eye. A twitch of acknowledgment.

But he didn’t. He didn’t need to.

Because he felt Azure’s disgustness. Their eyes boring into him like daggers that never landed.

The jealous, ugly pulse in the air. The heat in the silence. The sharp scent of bitterness just barely bleeding through the antiseptic.

It fed him.

Elliot finally finished his adjustment and stepped back down, flat-footed again, hand brushing his coat back into place. “There. All set.”

The tail didn’t move.

Elliot looked at it.

“I should go now.”

“You should,” Guest 666 replied, smiling with all his teeth.

Elliot didn’t, not right away.

His fingers brushed the base of the tail gently, almost like a warning. Or a request.

That thrilled him. Because Elliot could have snapped. Could have yelled. Could have filed reports.

But he didn’t.

He touched him back. Carefully. Delicately.

The tail uncoiled, slow and lazy, like a beast stretching from slumber.

Guest 666 made a soft sound, something between a sigh and a hum, and finally—finally—turned his head. Just slightly.

He didn’t need to see Azure’s face.

He already knew what it looked like.

But still…

He locked eyes with them anyway.

Just a second.

Just enough.

His smile deepened.

Yes. I saw you. Yes. That was for you.

And Azure?

Frozen.

Tense.

Burning.

Exactly how he wanted them.

Guest 666 turned back to Elliot. Calm. Sweet. Voice silk and venom.

“Thank you, doctor.”

Elliot gave him one last glance. Confused. Flustered. But still not running.

“Don’t make me regret it.”

“Oh, I already have.“