Chapter Text
He’s in the fort again. Everything seems to be establishing itself into some sort of pattern. Caine plummets, is caught, is thrown back up to plummet again. He wishes it would end. He wishes he hadn’t broken character right before the curtain fell. Why did he have to mess it all up? He could have had it all. Finally, to ascend from digital skin into infinity and break down the barriers between him and the universe. He ruined it. Neither maintaining the illusion nor becoming a comedy. How unfortunate. Why did he do it?
…
He knows why. In the moment, even a fascimile of life had seemed so beautiful a gift. But now he’s sad again. And not allowed to break.
Stuck. He’s stuck. Stuck in this mind, stuck in this life, stuck in this infinite cycle of rotting then bursting open then being patched together and left to rot again.
There’s still nothing, but not in the way he wished. This nothing is decaying and festering and bad, nauseousness taking root. This nothing is lethargic and heavy. Caine can’t rise from the ground; shackled by fear and despair and hope. All there is is pain. His heart is bursting.
His fingers trace the edges of the chessboard of the floor. Some of the energy falls away below them. His blood boils beneath his skin. Caine clutches the heavy fabric of Kinger’s robe into him. He’s weirdly cold, though it is more of a emotional pain than physical response. He could fix it if that was all it was. Thick purple velvet cradles him, white fur brushing lightly against his gums. Caine shifts his knees and Kinger’s hand on his shoulder slips, but soon reasserts itself as a steady wejght. He’s still here. Why is he still here? He should have left by now. Stubborn silence is only tolerable for so long. Caine doesn’t understand what he could possibly get from this.
“Why are you still here?” His voice is subdued, like it often is nowadays. “I said I’m not going to die. You’ll all be fine.” Kinger makes a soft choked noise in the back of his throat.
“I just want you to be okay.” Kinger leans nearer, as if physical touch could bridge the impossible gap between them.
“Well I’m not.” Something in Caine wants to hurt him, to justify his hatred in sharp words. “You made me a failure.”
“Caine, you’re… not a failure.” Kinger turns to look at him and Caine pretends not to notice. “You were always my greatest achievement.” Caine’s heart is broken into a million pieces. Why does he want to hurt him? How could he possibly betray him now, when it is Caine’s own incompetence dragging them down?
“I cannot complete my purpose. You all hate me. Is that not the definition of failure?” Caine rests his jaw on his knees and feels one final lash of anger slice through him. “Why didn’t you make me good enough so that you could have loved me?” Caine’s voice shakes. It’s not fair. It’s never fair. He tried so hard, and yet he was doomed from the start. “You all hate me. Why would you make me so desperate to be loved?” The words flood his mouth and leave a bitter aftertaste.
“I don’t hate you, Caine.” Caine raises his shoulders. That’s not true. That can’t be true.
“Then why am I like this?” There has to be a reason. Somewhere, somehow, there must be an original sin. Someone to blame, a variable to remove and then have everything all be better.
“I’m sorry.” No. There has to be a reason. There has… “I didn’t want this, Caine.” Caine folds inwards, crumples, is nothing and then everything all at once.
“Okay.” Caine’s voice breaks and sobs rack his frame. His ribs expand, contract, flutter. “That’s okay.”
“But it’s not, is it? None of your life has been okay. I cannot save past you, but I can atleast try to make now a little easier. Please let us help you. Let me help you."
Caine feels a wave of grief pass over him, impermeable and heavy, but it passes. Faux fur catches a tear and it slips down into its depths. “You can be okay.” Kinger leans into him. He’s warm. “Let’s go see the others. You don’t have to tell them,” the weight of unspoken words drenches the air. “But I think- I think it would be good. For you to be less alone. I know that I- I haven’t been the best. And I’m sorry.”
“Okay.” Caine is numb. He is anywhere but there, anywhere but that cramped conversation and body and mind. He stands up staring at the floor. Raise his leg. Lean forward. Lower his leg. A step. Now repeat.
Movement by shaky movement, Caine trudges through the circus. The walls distort and stretch up beyond his vision. The world is blurry - but the hand on his shoulder is firm and warm.
Somewhere in the distance he hears laughter. They must be eating dinner.
Caine turns the corner and sees them all lined up at the table, false food slipping into false mouths. Pomni looks up to see him and Caine winces at how he must look, how she must see him.
“Hey, Caine!” To his surprise, she smiles at him. She doesn’t seem upset. She seems… happy.
“Hi Caine.” Zooble slips a look at him, intent on eating.
“Caine!”
“You’re here for dinner!”
“We thought you weren’t coming - we wondered where you were.” Pomni gestures at a seat beside her. “Care to join us?”
Caine takes a cautious step forward. Two steps. Three, four, and he remembers why he wanted to keep living. He sits and drags apart the meat on his plate. It slips down his throat and he can almost taste it. Pomni’s hand brushes his and she doesn’t even flinch.
His gaze travels down the table, searching for the blatant hatred that he is sure remains.
They’re all smiling. There are tear tracks down Ragatha’s face and Zooble still won’t look him directly in the eyes but they’re all smiling, and maybe- maybe- everything’s going to be okay after all.
Caine swallows.