We Are Here For You, Always.

We are here for you, Always.

A/n: I need a bullet through my head.

The bathroom was cold, and the harsh light above made everything feel too bright, too much. You huddled in the corner, your knees pulled up to your chest, trying to hide from the world that felt so heavy. Your breath came in ragged gasps, and every time you wiped away the tears, it only made the snot in your nose worse. It was all too much—the weight of grief pressing down on you, suffocating you, as if the world had closed in on your chest.

The thoughts swirling in your mind were overwhelming. It felt like nothing could fix this, that nothing could make it go away. You couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t stop the pain. It wasn’t just sadness—it was something deeper, something you couldn’t explain. It felt like your entire existence was drowning in it, like a dark pit you’d never climb out of. No one could understand, and you didn’t want anyone to. It wasn’t just the sadness—it was the frustration, the feeling that you’d never heal. You felt as though you were falling apart, and the idea of someone witnessing that, especially them, felt like it would shatter the last bits of you still trying to hold on.

You hated this every time, you absolutely— hated it, an unexplainable feeling gnawing on your chest as you struggle to breathe, only coming out as ragged gasps when you struggled to stay quiet.

But then you heard footsteps, faint but unmistakable. Acronix and Krux.

At first, you tried to ignore them. You couldn’t let them see you like this. You couldn’t bear the thought of them seeing the tears, the snot, the vulnerability. The last thing you wanted was for them to pity you. You didn’t need their sympathy. You just wanted to be alone, away from their eyes. But they kept coming, and their voices—low, concerned—only made it worse. You felt trapped, suffocating in their attention.

“Hey,” Acronix’s voice was gentle, careful, almost too careful. You wanted to scream at him, tell him to leave. To stop acting like you were some fragile thing to be coddled. You weren’t that. You weren’t some helpless, broken person.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, your voice thick from crying.

“Are you?” Krux’s voice was soft, but there was an edge of worry to it. “We’re not leaving until you talk to us, you know.”

You didn’t want them there. You didn’t want anyone. You just wanted it all to end—the pain, the frustration, everything that made you feel so lost. You shifted further into the corner, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

“Leave me alone,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from all the crying. But they didn’t leave.

Acronix crouched down next to you, a respectful distance away, but his presence was still too close. “We’re not going anywhere,” he said firmly. “We’re here, okay? You don’t have to do this alone.”

“No,” you spat, backing away further, tears still flowing freely down your cheeks. “I don’t need you here. I don’t need anyone!” You wiped at your nose again, but it just made everything worse, the tears continuing to pour. You hated the weakness. You hated the fact that you were so helpless in that moment.

"You all say time heals all wounds," you murmured, the words feeling hollow. Mockingly. "But what is time?" you asked aloud, your voice cracking. Tears streamed down your face. "I don't believe in anything anymore," you whispered, another sob escaping your lips. "But if time can heal," you choked out, "or at least take me away...away from this world..." You glared at the two of them before you, then snapped, "You should have sped it up! It would be better if it could kill me once and for all!" Acronix recoiled slightly, and you immediately softened, a guilty expression replacing your anger.

Why are you blaming them, as if they were false gods? Something they cannot change, something beyond their control.

Acronix’s eyes softened, but he didn’t move closer. He knew better than to push you. “Look I may not be very good at words but," He sighs. "You don’t have to do this by yourself,” he repeated. “We’re your family, you know. It’s not about fixing everything right away, We’re just here, We’re not leaving.”

Krux stood behind Acronix at the door, his expression unreadable, but you could feel the weight of his gaze on you. There was no anger there, no frustration—just concern, deep and genuine.

You could feel your chest tighten, and despite yourself, you found yourself trembling. They were right. You didn’t want to be alone in this. But you couldn’t let them in. Not like this. Not when you felt so broken.

Acronix took a slow, careful step closer, sensing that you weren’t ready for anything more. “I know it feels like everything’s falling apart right now. I get that. But you don’t have to pretend like it’s fine. It’s okay to feel like this. But it’s also okay to lean on us.”

You shook your head, still refusing to look up at them. “I don’t want to… I don’t want you to see me like this. I’m not strong anymore. I just…” You trailed off, your voice cracking under the weight of the words you couldn’t say.

Krux took a deep breath and finally stepped forward, standing behind Acronix’s position. “You don’t have to be strong all the time. You don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not. We know you, all of you. We’ve seen you at your best, and we’ve seen you at your worst. We’re not going anywhere, not because we have to—but because we want to be here.”

You were shaking now, the sobs uncontrollable as you buried your face in your knees, your heart aching in ways you didn’t know how to put into words. You couldn’t understand why it felt like this. Why it felt like there was a piece of you that was slipping away, never to return.

But Acronix’s hand was on your back now, and Krux was there too, a steady presence, even if it wasn’t enough to fix everything.

Acronix’s voice was quieter now, softer. “You don’t have to heal right away, You don’t have to rush it. We’ll wait. We’re not going anywhere, not now, not ever. You’re not alone in this.”

You didn’t respond, not with words. You just let yourself cry, let the tears fall until they felt like they’d dry up on their own. But you knew something had shifted. Even in this broken state, even when you wanted nothing more than to be left alone, they were still there. Not to fix you. Not to try to make it all better. But simply to be with you.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

©leftalpacavoid 2024.