#weakness/strength being a theme w roach/chris is so fun... chris is ruthless but roach has morals. thinks chris is weak for being a killer

[drymouther]

frailty - @boundtoanandroid's roach/chris kiss. 381 words

cw impalement, blood <3

It was a vulnerability in zir armor that did it. Just one weak point. A section of pole had been driven through a frailty, and Chris feels like a threaded bead on a string. Sitting. Bleeding alone in an office building. Telepathic dampeners down. At least ze could think.

Failure. Failure. Failure.

The attack on Blaze failed. What’s more, this injury was an accident. Chris was left brutalized and singed, the sting passing through metal and skin, pricks of pain down into muscle. Needles. Pins and needles, static sensitivity— and in the pain-haze Chris doesn’t sense them approach.

“Gehenna,” Lacrymosa says, slinking towards zir. In their hand is a small, minute case. Something valuable, something techy, something Chris doesn’t care much for.

“Lacrymosa.”

“Awful circumstances you’ve gotten yourself into, eh?” They gesture at the pole through Chris’ chest. Ze is bleeding, the emergency coagulant deployed against zir skin can only do so much. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

Chris growls, but it doesn’t hold much weight. “So you’ve come here to gloat.”

“You bet your ass I am. Fucking pathetic.” Lacrymosa approaches, wasp-wings twitching. A buzzing sound. Stupid fly. They stand over Chris’ slumped over body, and with a dreadful yank that has Chris screaming, the weight of the pole shifting zir, weighing the wound down. Blind, throbbing pain. Like crucifixion. But never as noble as that. Martyrdom was never for Chris.

Through the featureless mask Lacrymosa peers at zir. “Blaze got away. I heard him laughing,” they taunt.

“You can’t prove anything.”

“Fucking hell, Chris, you lost.”

“Only for today.”

A pause. Lacrymosa tilts their head. Deliberate. Movements slow. They throw Chris back on the ground again, and Chris cries out in pain as the impact against zir back drives the pole through zir body.

The Rat King is working overtime for Chris to not feel the worst of it. To not let zir telepathy leak in the process. Pain always makes telepaths vulnerable. A useful tool. A terrifying weakness.

Lacrymosa stands over zir. Delicate gauntlets reach out and unclasp Chris’ helmet. Peel back the wet— bloodstained— saliva-stained— nanomesh balaclava that covered Chris’ lips. Lacrymosa’s helmet disengages. Dark brown hair with white strands frame a round face. Green eyes.

They lean down to kiss zir. Gentle. Tender. A fuck you.

“You’ve always been weak.”