#lonely.series

[mirohtron]

lonely

Villain hadn't cried after battle for a long time now.

They'd remember how they'd cry, though. They'd crawl into bed, hurt and bruised, tears staining their face because of how much it hurt. They didn't know at what point they'd fall asleep, but they would, and then they'd wake up.

Sometimes they'd wake up in the middle of the night, when the coldness of the hero fighting them seemed to manifest as the cold of the air, aching. Sometimes they'd wake up in the afternoons, when the cars would honk their horns below their studio apartment and their phone would buzz with texts from their college classmates telling them what they'd missed from their lecture, overwhelming them too much, aching.

They didn't cry often after battle these days. Sometimes, they'd remember those instance, though. They'd remember how much their past self would miss the warmth of someone else caring for them, the warmth of someone else's presence. Someone who didn't just know them as a spiteful villain who only caused a ruckus or their classmate who didn't have many friends.

That would make their throat close up, pausing their patchwork on their bruised, sometimes bleeding limbs. It would make them sob silently, as the same cold truth would come up in their mind, no one to comfort them.

Villain was lonely.

They never got used to lonely.

Perhaps that's why they always tried to keep their room, their bed, their sheets warm. If it were to get cold, they wouldn't have someone to warm them up. To hold them close and stroke their hair and tell them it would be alright, that they were just doing what they needed to get by, that one day, they could leave villainy behind, and the butterfly effect wouldn't be so cruel to them. One bad thing wouldn't pile up to another bad thing, and they wouldn't have to use their powers to hurt ever again.

When they awoke, their sheets were still warmer than ever, and their arms were wrapped around their one pillow, face buried into the mass of fabric and cotton. Weirdly, it had form, like they were lying their head on a person. It made their heart ache. They wanted it to be a person, they wanted it to be someone they could safely depend on.

They didn't want to open their eyes yet. Their body still ached after their last fight with hero, begging for someone to come and take care of their wounds. A gash covered their forearm, and some rational voice in their mind told them to take care of it, otherwise it would get infected.

But, Lord, they were so tired. The new hero was so much more powerful compared to them, and most of their fights were villain running and trying to gain more distance between them rather than them fighting. Even if they came home after mostly failed missions from the agency, bruised and battered and hurting, so much hurting, they knew hero wasn't using the full extent of their powers.

Their throat constricted again.

There was an instance, where in an attempt to get hero to get off their trail, villain had fleed to a mall and gone under cover. Their wounds hadn't healed enough from the fight prior, and they were so tired, it was their only option, and the closest thing to a break.

But then hero had flown in and announced everybody to evacuate, told that they had placed a tracker on villain that they couldn't remove and they needed everybody spread out and away from the mall so they could get hands on them.

Villain was a panicking mess when that happened. They had disguised themself as any other person and been close to where hero was, and at one point they'd seen hero help someone with an anxiety attack. Hero had been so gentle with them, so warm, villain could've exploded with jealousy. Why couldn't they get the same treatment as that civillian? From anybody?

Tears formed in their eyes. They had been so lonely, for so long, they didn't understand why they still weren't used to it. Even if they were an unlucky civillian who just couldn't up and get off the chair of villainy they'd been strapped to before paying their debts without risking their life, because they'd angered too many people, they still wanted that kind of warmth, no matter how professional and most probably insincere that warmth would be.

They buried closer to their make-believe person, sniffling. They needed to voice out their complaints. They had to.

They opened their mouth to say something, but all that came was a sob. Their pillow shifted under them, and suddenly they felt tentative arms on their back.

Ah, so it was a person. Rational villain knew that someone being in the house of a supposed loner was a bad, bad thing for the loner, but maybe this was a dream, and they still wanted to vent because it felt so terribly lonely.

"I just... want someone," they said, and their sobs were starting to shake their shoulders. They opened their eyes, cut-littered hands trying to wipe at their tears, refusing to look at who else was in their bed.

"What's wrong?" the person asked, so gentle, so concerned, it made villain sob so much harder.

"Everything," villain answered, sniffling, fingers clawing at the person's frame like they'd leave them and villain was hell-bent on making sure that didn't happen, "everything has been so wrong, for—for so long." Their sobs felt like they were wrecking through their body, and it only served to ache them more.

"It's okay." The person's hands went to hold villain. And it felt so nice and so safe, villain didn't know how to react.

"It's not okay," they said softly, nose runny, "every time—" sob "—every time I wake up, there's no—no one to help my wounds." The person stroked their hair. "And it, it hurts so much when I make it worse. Because I've done it wrong.

"And it gets so lonely," villain said between their sobs, feeling the cartilage in their nose move as they rubbed their nose red, "I feel so—" sob "—horrible, so horrible when I hurt someone. I didn't want to use my skills to hurt people," they said, looking at the gash on their arm, "and it still hurts so much, I get so—" another sob "—I get so scared when hero comes close. It's so scary to fight the heroes. Some—sometimes I think some of them laugh when they hurt me, and it's so scary."

Villain's shoulders shook as sobs continued to wreck their body, sniffling, tears streaming down their face still. The person made soothing noises, holding them close and letting villain hide in their shoulder. Somehow the action only made them cry more, and for a second villain thought they were hero because of how familiar their voice sounded. They didn't want to look.

"It still hurts so much" villain said again, quietly between their sobs, "it's so lonely. I didn't—I didn't want this. At all. But—" sniffle "—but debts were piling up, and I made people angry, and I don't know." They shook their head, drawing back, sitting up in bed with their legs crossed, wiping their tears. They didn't know how to stop without risking being murdered in a dirty street corner. Being with their organization gave them the most protection they had and kept other people away, but it affected them so badly.

They heard the shuffling of the other person sitting up, and they grabbed the villain's one pillow. "Here," they said softly, holding it up to them.

Villain dropped their hands to take the pillow from their hands. Unconsciously, villain's eyes went up to see who the person was.

The next second, they were panicking, attempting to scurry off of their bed.

The person was hero.

—

second part here.

[mirohtron]

in the end (it does matter)

—

anonymous asked: Can you make a part 2 to lonely?👁👁

@sweet-sinner69 (tumblr pls let me tag them) @why-am-i-on-this-website-anyway and @selectivegeekwithstandards also requested for a part 2 hello im sorry for the tag but i spent four days on this i will not let my work go unseen /lh

first part here.

—

They didn't know how it exactly happened, but one second they were on the floor of their apartment, sobbing, begging hero to not hurt them, and then next they were sitting in the booth of a McDonald's, patched up as good as hero could do.

Plasters covered some cuts on villain's hands, the ones that hadn't scabbed over yet, and underneath their sweater, the gash on their arm was firmly wrapped with bandages.

It all happened too fast; villain's mind had been going a mile a minute, and hero had to calm them down and promise they wouldn't hurt them, and, in an attempt to not stay alone with hero and get kidnapped somehow, villain had requested they go outside. More like beg. Unprompted.

That was why hero was in their apartment in the first place, right? To get villain to hero's base? Or maybe eliminate them? Villain couldn't stomach that. Being in their room with hero had been near-asphyxiating, and villain's agency had told them time and time again that the heroes wouldn't hesitate to eliminate villains.

It was why they'd brought the two of them to the mall and made hero sit in a McDonald's booth with them. There were people. A lot of people. Hero wouldn't try to kidnap them in here, hopefully. Probably. They looked professional, trained for this. They wouldn't try anything that could harm civillians.

Something in villain's chest twisted. Something regretful, something pained.

They wished they were one of those civillians.

"Do you wanna order?" hero asked gently, hands at their sides and under the table.

Villain opened their mouth to answer, but their breath caught in their throat. Did they? They didn't know if they had an appetite or not, and eating with hero could still risk being sedated and taken to hero's base.

Their left hand furled into a fist.

"I—I don't have any money," they finally answered, voice a little raw. They'd forgotten to pick up their wallet in their hurry to toss their sweater on, not wanting to risk any stranger worrying about their bandaged arm. People were too kind sometimes, and even if that societal trait could help somebody, villain didn't want to risk anything.

"That's fine," hero assured, "I don't mind a little spending. Do you wanna check out the menu?"

Villain swallowed. They didn't realise their answer could count as a "yes."

Their gaze locked onto some part of the table between them, debating.

"...how did you get in?" villain asked instead. The question had been prodding their mind even before they had realised it was hero they were crying to. Were they that horrible at keeping their location a secret? Wouldn't that mean other heroes knew their location, too? What about villains?

Their blood ran cold.

"One of my colleagues placed a track you."

If possible, their blood ran colder.

"What?"

"They're a telepath," hero explained, seemingly not noticing villain's internal panic, "they put a tracker of sorts on you. Your location was determined from that."

Villain's throat felt parched. Did that mean the telepath could read their mind? Could they read their mind right now?

Some salty taste settled in the back of their mouth. They felt horribly seen. It was uncomfortable.

"Is it still on me?"

"No." Hero shook their head. "They took it off once we learned of your location."

"Oh." Villain looked at the few plasters on their knuckles. Maybe hero was lying, maybe the tracker was still on them. But they couldn't be sure. Hero hadn't tried anything malicious yet, they didn't look like they'd even hurt villain right now.

Perhaps it was because there were civillians here. They looked at one of the tiny scabs on their skin. Hero had hurt them in fights before, what would stop them from hurting villain later? What if they got home, and hero was there to beat them bloody?

They felt a little sick.

"Hey," hero said after a moment. Villain looked up, and they couldn't see a hint of malevolance in their expression. Hero looked a little guilty, on the contrary.

Hero glanced at villain's knuckles. "I—I didn't... know you were so scared. Of me." They looked at villain's knuckles again, brows furrowing, swallowing. "I was—I didn't... I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

Hero pursed their lips. They looked like they wanted to say something else, like they wanted to protest against villain's words, like they should be sorry, but instead they nodded, looking down at their lap.

Villain pressed the tips of their fingers up against their palm as the silence between them grew heavy.

"Why were you in my bed?" they asked next.

"You pulled me."

"...what?"

"I was expecting you to be awake," hero said, "but you were asleep. Then you, uhm, you pulled me. To the bed. I didn't want to wake you because you looked tired."

Villain pulled their hands to themself, wanting to look smaller. "Oh."

Who does that? Villain wanted to hold their head in their hands. Of course, their touch starved self would do that. Of course, since they hadn't had a nice touch in a long time, their sleeping state would want someone. They wanted to ask how long hero was stuck like that, hoping that maybe they awoke soon after, but instead,

"Why were you sent?"

that came out.

Hero laughed, like they were nervous. "I wanted to talk to you about that, actually," they said, looking them in the eye, "after you'd eaten something. I wanted you to be a little more relaxed."

Oh. Villain's breath hitched. No one really thought about their comfort anymore. They weren't expecting their archenemy to.

Tears pricked at the corner of their eyes, but villain desperately blinked them away. Oh.

Hero didn't seem to notice. They shifted in their seat, putting their hands on the table. "They told me you were harmless," they said, "after my colleague took away the mental track, they... We know it was an invasion of privacy, but."

Villain's stomach hollowed out. They read their mind, didn't they? Villain supposed they had to. Of course they would, if they were given the opportunity. All they knew was that villain was some spiteful nobody.

"You don't want to be a villain, do you?" they asked, searching villain's face for something.

Villain bit their bottom lip to stop it from quivering. They shook their head, fingers digging into the leather of their seat. They absolutely didn't. They'd choose to be a civillian over a villain over and over again, if they could.

"They said you couldn't handle it."

"I can't." Villain sniffled dryly, looking away. When had they started crying again? "I really can't."

"It'll be okay," hero said gently, "we want to take you in. For reforming. Do you want in?"

Villain's gaze snapped back up. Reforming?

They searched hero's face, looking for a lie. They hoped hero wasn't lying. Hero wouldn't lie about this, right?

The agency had always told them that heroes wouldn't want anything to do with villains. Maybe the agency was lying. They had to be, because otherwise hero would have taken villain out the second they'd laid their eyes on them, right?

A sob broke their throat, and hero had rounded the table and was by their side in an instant, holding them close and stroking their hair. Reforming? Could they be safe as a civillian now?

"I don't wanna get murdered in a dirty street corner," they said quietly, hiding in hero's neck again. They sniffled, fingers clutching their shirt desperately.

"I know, we’ll handle that for you," hero said, rubbing circles on their back soothingly, "I suppose that's a yes?"

Villain nodded, sobbing harder somehow. "It is," they said, "it's a yes."

They wouldn't have to hurt people anymore. That was good. It would be fine. 

Hero told them it would be alright, that they'd just done what they needed to to get by, that they could leave villainy behind, and that the butterfly effect wouldn't be cruel to them anymore. Bad things wouldn't pile up anymore, and they wouldn't have to use their powers to hurt ever again.

“Do you wanna order?“

“Yeah.“

In the end, they got a free McDonald's meal and a lot of nice touch.