Chapter Text
he was going to get to the bottom of this. for at least the past two weeks now, every morning has felt like hell for him. maybe his mattress was no longer fit for him, or his battery compartment's gotten messed up, or perhaps he's secretly an insomniac? regardless, he felt like a towel that's been wrung dry every time he woke up, and it bothered him. and why wouldn't it? he's got meetings to attend, papers to sign, all after that amazing deal with one of the heavy hitters in the industry. and he has to go there with back pain so severe you'd think he's been sleepwalking every. single. day.
so, to understand the predicament he found himself in, controlly decided to not turn on sleep mode for the night. a new software update might have caused some issues with the way it behaved, he concluded. thus, while answering the questions he himself had posed, he, as usual, went to bed; at ten o'clock, like he always does. after shuffling around, trying to feign falling asleep, he stops moving; and waits. what he does not yet realize, is that he isn't alone here. as if slipping out of thin air, rook's silhouette, blinded by the darkness inside the room, towers over controlly's "sleeping" frame.
«...spawn of satan, seize your tomfoolery at once...», — rook rasped out right behind him, sending a shiver down his spine, — «...this...what was it...? tech..nology. technology of yours is- of the devil...», — cold, freezing hands palmed over the back of his plastic casing, seemingly searching for something. a weight landed squarely between his legs on the mattress. «...insufferable. how fortunate it is... that the wicked barrier shields you...», — rook's mutters were swallowed up by his rapid, jagged breathing. controlly barely noticed as he started unscrewing the bottom half of his shell. he's quite skilled at this for someone of his origin, he notes; almost like that's all he's been doing since he got back onto the earth. he exhaled quietly, as rook took off one half of his casing with trembling hands; something stirred inside his gut.
rook's breathing stiffened — and he finally felt it. rook took a fistful of the delicate wires connected to his vibration motors, and yanked so hard, controlly swore he started seeing stars for a second. muttering to himself, rook, with shaky hands, picked the screwdriver back up; the sounds that came after were not that pleasing to the ear. he stabbed, scratched his circuit board, prodded at his FPC connector with the tip; jammed it in. controlly's brain went into overdrive. of course he tried to resist — it was just no use. his arms went limp by his side, legs stopped kicking, head felt all fuzzy. the pain mixed in with something else; something much, much sinister.
«c-calm down now, no need for vio-», — controlly's words get cut short by a stabbing pain somewhere in his gut. writhing under rook in a frenzy, he tries to kick him off, turn around, do literally anything. his arms are too weak, the contacts on the circuits too damaged, his body's giving out. a second — but that's just enough; he grabs rook's arm from the back, slamming his body against his bare motherboard. ouch. but that hurt rook way more than him, he reassures himself. controlly shakily flips around, rook moves away; leans back, admiring his work. serves him right, he thinks, his chest heaving. serves him right. the scenery is blurry, but he doesn't quite care. all that matters is the devil's organs are no longer in place — surely this will rid him of this ailment for good.
grimacing, controlly leans back on the bed, his moist eyes fixated on rook. what the actual fuck is wrong with him? breaking into his room every night to... dig around in his organs like a maniac? did he want to kill him for real? he rubbed his temples, or at least where he presumed they'd be, exhaled as beads of sweat drip-dropped from his forehead. thoughts raced in his head way too much to properly form words; so rook went first, — «uhm, you're awake...? i apologize for this inconvenience, i'll just... be on my way then!», — and tried to get up. «hold it», — a more solid, harsh grip on his arm prevented him from running off; a strange, soft shock wave rippled through his body. rook's smile crooks, eyes widen a little.
«sit back down», — an order? from him? rook would laugh if he could; though he obliged. settling back between his legs, he looked down with a nervous expression, fidgeting with his hands. «y'know, i actually don't want to deal with this right now», — controlly exhales, crossing his arms, — «can't you at least close my shell back when you're done? i-», — rook tunes out the rest, smile widening. got him. he waits for controlly to stop babbling, almost bashfully turn around, and wait for him. his heart throbs in his gut, — «i will do no such thing», and presses controlly facefirst into his pillow.
rook's hands dive back into his plastic casing, run over his triggers, messily plug his motors back in; an involuntary shiver runs through his body. his teeth grit, knees buckle, brows furrow; breathing becomes labored. really, he isn't thinking of resisting him at all right now. perhaps that's a horrible idea. rook's hands move under his pcb, tug at his button's rubber pads. controlly's hands grasp at his, trying to get him to stop; or maybe to do it harder. the rough, choppy movements remind him who's really in control. rook fiddles with his battery section, exhaling through his teeth. he just wants to rip his springs out, leave him meek, and helpless, and then, perhaps, the devil will finally leave him alone.
mindlessly, he starts scratching at one of controlly's microchips with his screwdriver; the way the other squirms under him, letting out groans and soft whimpers, made him feel something. he's just not sure what that something is. rook laid his palm on controlly's right motor, met with a slight tingle that pulsated throughout his body. his smile wavers, he gets a little weak in the knees. this is all going according to plan, he repeats to himself. catches his breath yet again, grinding against the sheets inanely. this is all his fault! and the cause of all of this, of these unnecessary feelings, laid there limp under him, out of breath, his limbs shaking.
he moves--and, in a split second, controlly's entire body shudders, vision going white. as if on instinct, controlly's hand clenches around his arm. and the harsh grip does something to his brain — because he does it again; his brake pedal breaks. he pulls on his wires with such vigor the rubber coating starts slipping off. in a state of delirium, controlly tries to shriek something akin to protest, but no coherent words come out; just noise. rook's eye twitches, his head starts spinning. hands move on their own, pull more roughly, harder, even harder, the white noise in his ears reaches criticality. their legs tangle together, rook's laugh turns hysterical. the mattress creaks, thoughts pile on one another like a stack of hay. a mechanic squeal, a gasp, rising anxiety; nothing matters right now. his eyes snap shut.
controlly stops moving. must've ran out of backup power, then. how foolish is that?