Archive of Our Own ^beta

Theseus hit and kicked the walls. He scratched the steel doors as hard as he could with those weak in comparison nails, and nothing was budging. 

Toxic gas was slowly filling the room through the single small vent in the twelve or so foot high ceiling. 

Eurus lazily watched from the far side of the room as Theseus failed to open the air tight door.

“Why are you so panicky? I told you that Zephyrus and Boreas are going to arrive any moment now,” Eurus blankly said through the buzz of his voice changer for what must have been the hundredth time. 

Of course, instead of believing his very enemy, Theseus ignored him and kept trying to pry the door open. His poofy tanuki tail was tense between his legs.

Theseus never spoke. He could, but he didn't want to. The most that any member of the Syndicate has heard from him were harsh grunts during battle. Or heavy breathing when Boreas almost put a hole through his abdomen. He missed and instead put a gash in his arm, almost slicing it clean off. 

These memories were exactly why he was not thrilled to spend this period of time trapped in a small room with Eurus. It was rumored that Eurus and Boreas were brothers, which was sort of believable when one saw how they interact with each other, and they have powers in the same general category: wind. 

Theseus liked to joke that Zephyrus was like their dad because of how many times he saved them, namely Eurus, from danger.

While Theseus was just starting to feel sick, angrily hitting a pure steel wall was not helping, nor was the rising heat. Theseus’ suit had a tight hood that concealed all of his hair, with an exception of his light brown ears poking through, to hide his identity better. Usually, this is great at keeping warmth in for cold patrol nights, but it's kind of backfiring right now.

But he didn't want to just give up and wait for Eurus’ teammates. Theseus was stubborn and he knew it. So did Eurus, and basically anyone who has ever had the pleasure of engaging in combat with him.

No matter what injury villains, and even heroes, have inflicted on him, he would always be back in the next week or so. No, he didn't have a personal healer, only an inexperienced roommate with some weak health potions and bandages. 

Ender has appeared teleporting Theseus out of bloody situations various times before. He would then take him back to their apartment to patch up and probably use one of those cheap potions.

Contrary to popular belief, healing pots don't heal instantly. An average pot can take up to a week and a half to fully heal a really bad wound, and sometimes it even takes two potions. 

The heroes, to go along with their many professional healers, probably have some ultra strong potion that can heal in just a few hours. But as a low life vigilante living in Logstedshire, materials were scarce.

Currently, Theseus’ gear has been taken and probably destroyed by whoever those people were who threw him in here in the first place. Ender has no idea what his coordinates are, and probably no idea he's even in danger. So that means no teleporting, and none of those weak but glorious healing potions.

As much as Theseus didn't want to stop, as much as losing that persistence might lower his chances of getting out of here, his body was aching. It seemed like he would have enough time to continue later anyways. So he decided to take a small break just to recharge. In one abrupt swift movement, he spun around with his back to the wall and sat down. His ears were flat against the top of his head and he wrapped his tail around his crossed legs.

Eurus was probably smirking under that dumb blue mask he had on. “Finally giving up?”

Theseus glared at him through his own black and red mask. He lifted his hands to sign at him Shut up, you blue loser.

Eurus seemed to roll his eyes, but mostly minded his own business after that. 

–

When an hour passed, neither of them knew. Their sense of time was kinda becoming fuzzy.

Theseus was feeling even more sick by now. But he could still move, and that's all he needed to keep trying. Eurus wasn't looking too good himself. He was slouched over with both arms out of sight, holding his abdomen.

A while ago, Theseus started trying to hop up to the vent to stuff it with his undershirt to slow down the gas. He would rather pepper spray himself than ask for help from Eurus. And Eurus seemed too set on believing that his team would get here in time anyways.

There were some flickering fluorescent lights on the ceiling that you might think he could grab onto, but they don't have grips anywhere. Smooth hard plastic drilled into the ceiling was making it impossible to latch on to.

After enough failed attempts, Theseus was starting to give up. His gut was churning and he was becoming nauseous. His feet and paw pads were sore from jumping off the walls and landing so many times. He might have even reopened that wound on his hip from the chase with a hero a few days ago.

After trying once more and failing, Theseus’ shoulders slouched and he cracked his knuckles. A brief moment of staring up at the vent later and he opted to go sit down again. 

He chose a spot on the other side of the room from Eurus to take a seat. Eurus seemed to notice his movement, so he glanced up with a questioning look.

“They'll come,” Eurus said through a deep breath.

Theseus’ ear twitched. He has been trying not to engage in conversation this whole time, rather focusing on survival plans. This has become increasingly more difficult every time Eurus said something. Theseus has the urge to protest, not believing that his team will come in time.

He raises his hands, How are you so sure?

Eurus repositions his arms to a more bearable position. Nothing was exactly comfortable at the moment. “Well, you know how strong they are. And I know that they have their ways of finding me.” He furrowed his hidden brow, “They'll come…”

Theseus shakes his head just a little, then he crosses his arms and looks down. If opening the door won't work, and covering the vent won't work, then what will? He didn't have a lot of options here. 

He struggled to put his undershirt back on while still wearing his jacket, not wanting to expose his scars. Must have been some sight for Eures to see him fumble for a second, though he didn't say anything.

He then noticed just how lightheaded he was. Was it the gas or all the jumping around? Maybe the heat was getting to him. Probably a mix of all three.

“Why have you been so quiet?” Theseus then heard.

He looks up at Eurus and tilts his head ever so slightly. Eurus must really be losing it if he's asking that.

Eurus halts before continuing, “Just- I mean you’re usually signing so fast I can’t keep up. Is it the gas, or?”

Theseus wouldn't want to tell him that he had a growing fear of dying in this small room with his very enemy. But if he truly believed that he would die here today, he also really wouldn't mind telling him. So maybe there was hope left.

Theseus wouldn't want to tell him that he feels so sick that he might vomit up all of the nothing he had for breakfast. Even though logically, Eurus probably isn't that much better, Theseus had a tough act to keep up.

Just the gas. Theseus signed before bringing his knees to his chest, basically telling Eurus that he didn't want to chat anymore.

Eurus seemed to have a little bit of sympathy- pity in his voice, “Okay..” And Theseus did not accept pity!

Theseus went back to brainstorming, thinking of any possible way he could get out. He closed his eyes for maybe a second. A few minutes? 

His mind drifted, it was like a dream. He saw a woman. A tall, beautiful, calming woman who reeked of death. Her smile was illuminated by a shining yellow halo-like ring around her head. She stood still but it felt like she was getting closer ever so slowly. 

He then heard his alias called by a voice that sounded suspiciously like Eurus’. The woman turned towards the sound before disappearing like smoke.

When he opened his eyes and lifted his throbbing head again, it was as if a lot of time passed. The gas was thicker and he felt super dizzy even while sitting down. 

He noticed a figure out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head and jumped back defensively on reflex. Why was Eurus sitting so close? How long has Theseus been out to not notice?

The villain was staring back at Theseus, he looked uneasy.

Theseus, as slowly as he could, pressed his back to the wall he was now by to steady himself, otherwise he was sure to fall over flat on his face.

And what the fuck were you doing? Theseus demanded once he was in a position further from Eurus. He wasn't totally sure how intelligible his signing was, but Eurus seemed to understand it fine.

“You- don't remember? Uhm well,” Eurus was weirdly hesitant, even with the gas messing with his mind. He took a deep breath, “You had a panic attack, yeah?” He shrugged, then as an afterthought, muttered “I think that’s what it was…”

Fuzzy memories of the past however long ago it was came rushing back to him. Hyperventilating, hearing unsure and nervous words of comfort, grabbing someones- Eurus’ hand… And there was something else he couldn't quite grasp. Like a dream.

He glanced an angle down and saw a couple of thin red tears through Eurus’ blue gloves, nearly bleeding.

He could tell Eurus that he sort of remembered now, but that would just be embarrassing. He wasn't supposed to see Theseus in such a vulnerable state. Theseus was supposed to be the stubborn vigilante that always got up with no pity help from villains who wanted him dead.

Theseus shook his head in response.

Eurus didn’t say anything else after that. They both just seemed to go back to their own things, only with more tension than before. That, of course, meant not making eye contact and sitting several yards apart. Although, Theseus didn’t fail to notice Eurus glancing up every once in a while at him.

–

An undetermined amount of time later, Theseus genuinely started to think that they wouldn't make it out of here alive. He could imagine their rotting bodies being found by Eurus’ friends. Or maybe the heroes would find them first. Possibly even some other vigilantes. 

He has had the pleasure of working with Jester and Slimecicle before. He momentarily wondered if they would be upset over his death at all. It was only one drug bust though, they probably wouldn't care, might not even remember him.

Theseus was rocking back and forth on his toes. He would like to pretend that it was to keep himself active so he wouldn't pass out or anything. Realistically though, it was pure nerves.

A while ago, Eurus stopped insisting that his team was arriving in only a short amount of time. Subconsciously, Theseus was losing hope quicker than before because of it. 

As Theseus was rocking himself, trying to focus on the sore feeling beneath his feet, he heard Eurus speak up, but he didn't hear what. He looked up to see Eurus already staring back. They made eye contact before Theseus demanded a quick what?

“I asked, why did you become a vigilante?” he repeated himself.

Well that came out of nowhere. What kind of dumb question is that anyways? Maybe he was planning to gather some secrets about Theseus to gossip back to his team, if he ever even sees them again. Theseus decided to vaguely voice- well, sign these thoughts.

Why do you want to know, prick?

Eurus shrugs, “You don’t have to answer. Just thought I’d try to make some conversation…” There was a hint of shame in his tone, as if he regretted asking. But maybe it was just because he was feeling unwell.

Theseus took a second to examine his body language, but that didn’t do much since he could hardly think anyways. You first. He decided to say.

Eurus looked puzzled for a moment before understanding what Theseus meant. “Why did I become a villain?” Theseus nodded stiffly. Eurus swiped his exposed fluffy brown hair away from his mesh blindfold. It was like he was stalling, thinking of if he actually wanted to tell Theseus. After a thought, he did though. “I followed in my family's footsteps I guess.”

That wasn't the answer that Theseus was expecting, so it brought up some more questions. Do you want to be a villain? he asked the other man.

Eurus took a little longer than usual to process his signing. Probably just the gas again, and maybe the couple yards of distance between them. 

He did finally respond after about 10 seconds though. He gave a short breathy laugh, “Yeah, absolutely. Being a villain is fun. There's no real expectations.” Eurus looked up at the little vent for a brief minute before looking back to Theseus in case he signed something. “Only rule is don't get caught.”

That all was technically true for vigilantes as well. It was a lot less restricting than being a certified hero at least. But there were still a lot of expectations. Not legally, but from public and personal pressure.

Being a vigilante was fun when you didn't have to get right back out there after being awfully injured. But unfortunately, Theseus’ whole brand consisted of two things: somehow being terribly annoying without even talking; and getting back up right away, no matter what.

This dumb little metal room might be the end of that. Theseus shivered.

“And.. you?” Eurus continued the conversation. 

Eurus’ question brought him back to the now. Well, he might as well tell him. They probably only have maybe 12 hours left anyway, a rough guess. Eurus won't have anyone to gossip to after this is over.

I wanted to stop bozos in Logsted, he signed. This might confuse Eurus a little because now, he primarily fights villains in L’manburg, but who cares. Eurus doesn't deserve his whole vigilante origin story anyways . He crossed his arms subtly, having been a little embarrassed from being so honest.

It might have been a dumb thing to be embarrassed about, but whatever, Eurus doesn't know, so whatever! It doesn't even matter.

Eurus cracked a smile at that. Not that Theseus could see through his mask, but he could hear it in his voice. 

“Understandable. I’m assuming you never wanted to fight the masses?” He changed his sitting position to cross his legs. He put one hand on his knee and the other holding his stomach. 

For some reason, his response made Theseus feel uneasy. Eurus was surprisingly accurate on that.

Actually, Eurus wasn't usually this friendly to him. On the battlefield, they would mess around a little bit, like brothers fighting over a video game controller. Except, instead of a controller, it was a precious jewel, or a detonator. They would toss curses at each other in a playful manner. 

But like brothers, sometimes playful manners go too far and someone usually gets hurt by the end of it.

But no matter the banter, Eurus didn't exactly go easy on him. He has the scars to prove it. Although, Eurus probably has a fair share of scars from Theseus too. Unless the Syndicate's healer could get rid of scars. Theseus didn't know how healers work, only healing potions. And healing potions certainly did not remove scars. Maybe they had regeneration pots, which can get rid of fresh scars. He wasn't actually even sure if the Syndicate had a healer at all.

Suddenly Theseus raised his hands without much thought. Maybe it was that he felt comfortable in the presence of Eurus for a minute, or maybe it was the gas, maybe it was purely just how impulsive he was. Do you have scars?

That's probably an insensitive question, but surely he did, right?

Eurus didn't seem to think of it as too insensitive though, because he just sounded happy that Theseus was still talking to him. He nodded and hummed happily, “You wanna see some?” Eurus said as he made a hand gesture telling Theseus he could come closer,

Theseus was a little confused at Eurus’ willingness, but you still can't blame him for being curious. He looked around nervously, despite being in a small foggy monochrome room with only one other person. After taking a good few seconds to study Eurus’ body language to detect any threat, he called it clear and slowly stood up. 

As he cautiously walked around to Eurus, he kept his hand on the wall to keep himself steady. If he didn’t, then he just might end up cracking his skull today.

Theseus carefully narrowed the space between them. Once he got close enough and was just about to sit back down, Eurus turned to sit in his direction. As there was maybe ten feet between them before, now there are only a few. Theseus was thankful that he didn't stumble on his way over. That would be embarrassing.

Theseus sat on his feet with his knees up to his chest, a good position to stand up quickly if need be. It’s kind of a habit.

Once Theseus was seated, Eurus wasted no time at all taking off his deep blue trench coat and torn long gloves. Undernethe, he wore a dull yellow stretched collar shirt. But before actually lifting any sleeves or rolling any trouser legs up, he paused and opened his mouth to speak.

“Did you want to see anything specific first?” Eurus asked cheerfully.

Theseus was nervous about being so close to Eurus in such a friendly manner. His tail was swishing back and forth from nerves on the floor behind him, but he didn't really notice. He thought about the question for a second, Do you have any from me?

Eurus seemed to sit up a little straighter, Theseus was momentarily worried that it was a bad question. Then Eurus happily replied with a “Totally, of course!” 

Although Theseus was still confused, all the same felt an odd rush of pride. Maybe it was weird to be prideful over harming someone so bad that it literally scars, but Eurus’ positive response felt just so genuine. He was a skilled villain in combat, hated by any sane human. Theseus couldn't help but feel a little bit of joy at leaving such a mark. It almost sounded like Eurus was proud himself.

Eurus reintroduced Theseus to a ton of littered scars on his arms made by none other than that very boy. Long thick claw marks of which a few must have grazed the bone. Even a couple dagger wounds. Theseus certainly had some throwing skills.

As they reviewed the damage and reminisced together over these old fights, Theseus nearly forgot about their current situation and the dread in his gut. 

As time moved, so did Eurus. He made his way from his arms to his legs to his back and even a big scar that was awfully close to his throat on his collarbone he said he got from a hero. Eurus was laughing a little and Theseus wanted to join him, but he had at least half a mind to keep his mouth shut. What Eurus couldn't see was the ear to ear grin that Theseus wore.

Nonetheless, he was quite excited to be able to see these scars up close. So excited that he didn't notice when his tail thumped, or when he was bouncing up and down ever so slightly on his toes, or when his ears perked up with interest. Or, when Eurus started to notice something interesting about him.

–

Eurus watched as Theseus slowly walked towards him, using the wall to keep steady. Eurus frowned at the sight, knowing that Theseus probably felt more sick than him because of the fighting and jumping he attempted a while ago.

But he watched anyways, thankful that Theseus was at least giving him a shot. If they really are going to die in this little miserable room, he wants both of their last moments to not be as awful as they could be here.

He wouldn't admit it out loud, but if Zephyrus and Boreas haven't arrived by now, then they must really have no idea where he is.

Theseus sat down a few feet away, obviously trying to keep a little distance. Eurus wouldn't push. He instead quickly took his jacket and gloves off to make it easier to show off the scars. 

Eurus took a breath and made sure to sound welcoming, but not ecstatic or something weird. “Did you want to see anything specific first?”

And a moment of hesitance later, Do you have any from me? Theseus asked. 

Memories of fights from when Theseus started his vigilantism in L’manburg came back to him. Theseus had such a unique fighting style. It might look messy to a mere citizen, but when you're really engaged in the fight, it's a whole different experience. You can tell how every move is calculated. 

Although Theseus has only been on the field for just under two years, he has come so far. Eurus remembered not really wanting to kill him at first, even though it'd be easy. It was endearing how crazy his fights were. But alarmingly quickly, Theseus actually became good at fighting, and Eurus found that he wouldn't be able to kill him if he wanted to. At least not without a severed limb.

Eurus tugged his head out of the clouds to respond. 

 “Totally, of course!” Maybe he let a little bit of his own pride from thinking of Theseus’ progression slip out while saying that.

Shortly after he started to show off all the scrapes and scars from these fights, he could visibility see how happy Theseus was getting. Some might be terrified at this joy, but as a criminal himself, Eurus understood. He understood how good it felt to stand up for what you believe in, and to see real damage you've done to these people is absolutely amazing. 

Theseus’ tail was thumping softly against the hard ground. He didn't seem to notice himself doing this. Surely if he did, he would stop immediately. Something that Eurus has learned about Theseus was that he saw any emotion that isn't related to his own victory as a weakness. Which was actually true on some level. 

In fact, typically his light bounce, his perked ears, and joyous tail could be a weakness if it was seen by the wrong person at the wrong time. Thankfully, right now might be the best time to be happy. And Eurus knew that there's no good reason to use this joy against him right now. Or probably ever, if they survive.

They won't. The Syndicate isn't coming.

Eurus kind of wanted to ask about Theseus’ own scars, but he figured if Theseus wanted to talk about them, he would.

Theseus reminded him of a little kid. A little boy who wants nothing more than to help people. He wants to make the world better, as any kid might. Theseus doesn't see as Eurus’ eyes soften. Eurus notices himself, but doesn't bother to stop. Maybe he sees something special about Theseus in these last few hours together. Sue him. 

–

Sometime while he was examining Eurus’ littered skin, Theseus got closer. Just enough to rub his padded fingertips against a few of the rough patches, but he hardly noticed himself scooting over to do so. Eurus secretly smiled at this.

At this point, Theseus wasn't even thinking about how he'll most likely be dead by the end of the day. He was too entranced by Eurus, the ever so dramatic motherfucker, talking about his cool fights with heroes and a couple of the more brave vigilantes who would dare to fight him. Eurus put an emphasis on the word brave when he was saying that. 

It was funny because out of all the vigilantes, he has definitely come in contact with Theseus the most. It is true though, the Syndicate was dangerous. Heroes were kind of obligated to fight whoever the government wanted them to fight, but vigilantes were their own boss.

Usually, vigilantes, who basically never have proper training or medical supplies, tried to stay further away from big league villains. They'd rather stick to convenience store robberies and alley muggings. It took some bravery and wit to face a Syndicate member, and sometimes multiple at a time, willingly.

Just when they were both finished going through all of his traumatic memories while making it sound like the funnest of experiences, Theseus for once glanced away only to see a drop of blood on the floor beneath him.

Eurus seemed to follow his eyes because he then got all worked up. 

“Woah, where are you bleeding from? Maybe I can help.” He saw the red soaked through the bottom left of Theseus’ white hoodie. “Lift your shirt.”

Thesees had an idea of what probably happened. Now that he actually notices the open wound, he could identify the pain coming from his hip. He probably tore the stitches when he was trying to reach the vent. It hurt, but it wasn't agony, it wasn't a big deal. Theseus internally groaned and threw his head back nonchalantly.

After a second of being annoyed at himself, Theseus looked back to see Eurus reaching for the bottom of his hoodie. Centimeters before making contact though, Theseus quickly swatted his hand away and pressed his own to the wound. His tail swung around to the front of his legs.

Eurus instantly retracted, probably realizing his mistake.

 “Ah, shoot I’m sorry, I shouldn't have-” Theseus tensed and glared at him as if to say fuck off. Eurus pushed his feet against the floor a little to make some space, then put his hands down into his lap to look less threatening. 

“Would you please check to make sure you’re alright?” he said, tone careful.

Without checking, Theseus defensively signed I’m fine. Well aware that Eurus could hear him exhale in an annoyed manner.

“Just check through?” Eurus pushed a little more, tilting his head.

Theseus' ear twitched and his shoulders slouched just barely that Eurus almost missed it. He then shot one more look before angling himself away to lift his hoodie a little to see the red mess that was his open wound. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Eurus retract a little at the sight, even though Theseus turned to not face him directly.

He turned back with red hands, It’s barely bleeding.

Eurus clearly wanted to make an objection, to bring Theseus back to his secret evil lair or whatever to use some good potions and get it stitched up properly. But he didn't say anything. Perhaps he remembered that they were both death bound by now- 

 Okay,” he muttered instead, words seeping with doubt.

Theseus hoped that Eurus didn't see the rest of his scars, they were basically covering his whole body, similar to Eurus’ own. But there was probably too much crusted blood anyways, and it was only for a second. Surely if he saw, he would have forced himself into Theseus’ personal business regarding them by now.

Trying to get the pair of masked eyes off him, Theseus turns back to Eurus, It doesn't even hurt.

And that wasn't really a lie, if he actually thought about it, there was a sharp pain spreading down his leg and up around his lower ribs. But the gas must be tinkering with his nerves as well because of how muted it was.

Eurus slowly nods, but it was hard to believe that he actually considered what Theseus just told him.

–

How long has it been? An hour, or ten? If you asked Eurus, he genuinely couldn't tell you. 

After the little incident about Theseus’ wound, he did eventually come back around. They’re now sitting knee to knee.

The air is far too hot, too heavy, so a while ago Theseus took off his jacket, revealing his red-stained white undershirt. All of his pretty scars along his arms on display, although neither spoke of them. Eurus’ coat and boots were long discarded to the other side of the room as well..

With the loss of his jacket, Theseus also lost his tall collar. Eurus could see a glimpse of Theseus’ hair now. His mask that covered his whole head, save for his fluffy ears, reached just to the back of his neck. 

Eurus can now see the messy blonde hair that was once hidden. The blonde color wasn't a surprise, as the super light brown and dirty blondish tanuki features sort of gave it away. It still felt odd though. Not like anyone on the battlefield really removed any article of clothing often.

Eurus was currently telling a dumb story from years ago. It was about when his brother accidentally carved his own rib out of his chest. Theseus’ first question wasnt about how painful it might have been, or why the fuck he would do that, but he asked if Eurus’ brother was Boreas. 

With a surprising lack of hesitation, Eurus confirmed that Boreas was in fact his brother, then added on that Zephyrus was his dad.

After the initial excitement, Theseus’ second question was how Boreas could even manage the pain of slicing open his own chest.

“You know how some people call him The Blood God because of how ruthless he can be?” Theseus nodded. With awkward hand gestures, Eurus rambled “Well he sort of has blood thirsty voices constantly in his head that can get so loud to the point he can't control his own actions”

Theseus surely would have made some noise of mixed fascination and horror if he’d allow himself to speak. He leaned back at that, then forward like he couldn't make up his mind if he wanted to hear more. He did end up asking So it was painful though?

Eurus let out a light chuckle and nodded his head, “So painful, darling.”

Theseus paused at the nickname for a moment, but quickly moved on.

And that’s what he gets for nearly killing me so many times, Theseus proudly signed.

Some part of Eurus’ mind tugged at him, telling him to be sad, to apologize for his brother's actions. Or he wanted to scold him for talking down on his brother and saying he deserved such pain. But the way Theseus held his shoulders high, his chest out, made Eurus smile. He couldn't help but feel a little giddy inside.

What happened after? Theseus signed, immersed in the story.

Eurus cracked a smile, “He kept it on his shelf, it should still be there today”

Eurus could hear Theseus’ breath as he tried not to laugh.

He knew it wouldn't last long, sometime very soon Theseus would remember the rock in his stomach and the pounding in his head.

Until then, he tried to enjoy this moment.

–

While Eurus sat there, he wasn't really thinking of anything, he probably could if he tried, but the room was too hot and his head was too numb. His eyes were open but looking at nothing. His back wasn’t against the wall, but rather away from it at an angle. Earlier, him and Theseus were chatting, so he faced a direction where he could easily read Theseus’ signs.

Now that it comes to mind- was Theseus still signing? He quickly, well as quickly as he could, focused his eyes on Theseus, who was thankfully not signing.

Instead, his head was drooping infront of his awful posture. Eurus wasn't one to judge though, his back ached and his head lolled just the same.

Eurus watched as Theseus took steady breaths. Was he asleep? Without truly thinking, Eurus carefully reached his hand over to Theseus’ back. Then the boy seemed to skip a breath, Eurus almost retracted, thinking he fucked up. With the haze settled in his mind though, his arm didn't seem to want to move for a second, just a second too long. 

Theseus pushed his back up just barely, leaning into the touch of Eurus’ hand, despite the immense heat already around the room. Eurus was confused, did Theseus forget where he was?

Well it answers the question if he was asleep or not.

“Are you alright, Theseus?” Eurus quietly asked.

Theseus just nodded, hands firm on his stomach, which was most certainly aching, as was Eurus’ own. It was sharp pain, similar to one of being stabbed, just super muted.

Eurus furrowed his brows, concerned. This was so unlike him, even in the worst situations, Theseus always put up with the pain and hopelessness. Although he supposes both of them were acting a little out of character here.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Eurus screamed that they were actively dying, there was no way out. Eurus decided to ignore that voice in favor of comforting Theseus the best he could, despite his own internal pains and brain fog.

He slowly started rubbing his thumb up and down Theseus’ back, checking if it was okay before scooting a bit closer and wrapping all around one of his shoulders. Theseus remained hunched over. 

Eurus asked again, “Are you ok?”

Before Theseus made any move to respond, Eurus heard quiet, broken sniffles. His eyes widened and his jaw clenched, looking intensely at the boy. His grip around his shoulder tightened a little.

Is he having auditory hallucinations from the gas? It's very possible… No- Theseus’ shoulders were shaking.

“Oh, baby,” Eurus said, breathlessly.

Before he knew it, Theseus grabbed onto his arms, squeezing tight for… reassurance maybe? His sobs picked up. His tail curled around himself, brushing against Eurus.

For as foggy as Eurus’ brain was at the moment, he acted quick. Getting on his knees to face the crying boy, wrapping both of his arms around Theseus’ shoulders, tighter than before.

Theseus grasped at the back of Eurus yellow shirt. The sobs got even louder. Eurus has never ever heard Theseus’ voice before, or even his cry. 

Which is shocking to most because of how many injuries he gets. Heroes, criminals, and civilians alike have all been amazed by his pain tolerance and pure will to keep his voice down. Some villains have even made it a game to try and make him scream, or have any verbal reaction really, though they were never successful. At least not in public view.

Which meant that if Theseus was crying, like really crying, something else is going on.

Eurus couldn't think of what to do from here. While usually he would have something quick and witty, he just sat there and hugged him tighter. Theseus was slumped over Eurus’ lap, clearly trying to get the most out of this hug. 

Eurus, waiting for Theseus to calm down, tenderly shushed him like an older brother might do. When Theseus finally was able to breathe, though still crying, he spoke up for the first time ever.

“Why h-have you b-been so nice to me?” He begged for answers, for a reason.

As taken aback by Theseus’ voice as he was, Eurus still tried to sort a response in his head.

Why did Theseus sound so young? Stop, that's not important right now.

After what might have been several minutes, but felt like only a second or two, Theseus responded for him.

“It's because you know we're g-gonna die, isn't it?” He choked on his breath. He angled his head down further so he didn't have to look at Eurus directly.

His naked words caught Eurus’ attention. He opened his mouth to deny it, but he couldn't. He couldn't because that was exactly the reason. Eurus felt tears prick at his own eyes, but he got himself under control for Theseus’ sake.

After a moment of Eurus’ stunned silence, Theseus brought his fist in the air and weakly knocked it against Eurus’ chest. It wasn't a punch, it was as if to ask why Eurus was doing this to him.

This situation wasn't Eurus’ fault and would certainly be less enjoyable if he kept up his tough villain persona, and they both knew it. Decent chance that the gas has just really started to take a toll on Theseus’ mental state. Eurus really didn't know what to say, but he always knew what to say! He was the talkative dramatic expressional syndicate member. Besides mass destruction and taking many innocent lives, that's what he was known for.

And yet, nothing. He couldn't lie here, he couldn't joke around to make Theseus feel better. So he had one option left.

He was going to embrace death and embrace the fact that he would be the last person Theseus would see.

Tossing one last look down at the bloodied boy, sobbing into his arms, he sighed and brought his hands up to his face. First, unclipping the mesh blindfold behind his head. Then unlooping the blue and yellow face mask from each ear, minding his precious emerald hanging from the left. He took off his mask, the same mask that carried his vital voice changer.

The moment Theseus will look up is the moment Eurus’ biggest secret will be loose. He was totally exposed, if they somehow possibly made it out of here alive, it'd be over. But they won't- there's no way. 

Eurus laid his face coverings on the floor next to him, now gazing down at Theseus clearer than ever. His hands returned to the boy's shoulders.

Theseus calmed down a little by now, and he kept getting better the more Eurus just let it happen. Without any words exchanged, eventually they ended up with Eurus doing breathing exercises for Theseus. When he’d drag his hand up Theseus’ back, he’d breathe in, and then breathe out when he dragged it back down.

After another four or five minutes, Theseus’ breathing was regulated and he calmed down enough.

Now's the hard part. Eurus quickly contemplated the pros and cons of really revealing his identity. It's not too late, the mask is right there, he can put it back on. No, it's fine, it won't be that hard, he can do it. Theseus really can’t react that badly, why would he anyways? Okay just do it, get it over with.

Eurus moved his hands from Theseus’ back to his side. Theseus did not react until Eurus said “Look at me, darling.” The difference without the voice changer was significant.

Theseus definitely caught it, seeing as how he shot up, to be greeted with Eurus’ absolutely bare face. Theseus' breath started to pick up again, but he didn’t cry.

Theseus could see his damp golden eyes, crummy fluorescents really not doing them justice.

While they made eye contact through Theseus’ reflective rose tinted glasses, Eurus brought a hand up to cup Theseus’ still masked cheek while moving his other hand to his waist.

“My name is Wilbur Soot,” Theseus tried to retract but the hand on his waist kept him from going far. “I am sorry this had to happen to you.”

Theseus took a second to stare before his shaky, sore voice asked “Why are you doing this?”

Now that Wilbur is focused, and Theseus isn't crying so hard, he can really notice how young he sounds. He's always acted childish too, how old really is he? The evidence is starting to get concerning.

Wilbur gave him a sympathetic look “If we're going to die together, Then I'd like you to know who I am.”

Theseus stayed quiet, slowly looking down.

“How old are you?” Wilbur asked, it was straightforward but not like he had anything to lose.

The presumed younger then looked away, putting his hands together like a fidget. 

Wilbur frowned at this, “I promise not to detest you, it's alright,” Wilbur used the hand on Theseus’ face to turn his chin in his direction once again.

Theseus brought his own hands up to push Wilburs off of him, he then looked away again. This time Wilbur didn't stop him. Theseus mumbled something, likely a number.

“Speak up dear,” Wilbur encouraged.

Louder, Theseus spoke “Sixteen.”

…That was much younger than Wilbur expected, he thought twenty at least. Wilbur was eight years older than this boy, this literal child. Wilbur didn't even really start villinary with his family until he was twenty two, which is still considered quite young for this field of work.

Wilbur apparently didn't notice how quiet he was being, or that his mouth was left agape and his eyebrows furrowed. Well he didn’t notice until Theseus squirmed out of his grasp to sit alone by another wall.

The older of the two had quickly fixed himself, “No, no I’m not upset, just surprised.” Theseus started patrolling nearly two years ago, he was fourteen. He might have been doing it even longer, but the news only got around to the villains about two years ago. Just the idea of that sent a wave of nausea though him. That paired with the toxic fumes was not a good mix. It thankfully passed quick enough.

He used to gossip to the Syndicate about how this loser was so bad at fighting. A couple of months later though, and his progress was unreal. Also soon enough his teammate, Ender, was first spotted.

Ender was easily 7 feet tall, he wore a deep purple veil over his head reaching down mid-bicep with long straight and sharp horns poking through the top. He usually had a black ruffled Victorian top and skin tight high waisted matt black pants with an elegant tail swaying between them. 

He had tough padded feet, no need for shoes. His exposed clawed hands and feet revealed shiny indigo scales that served as some nice protection. Small purple and pink particles always swarming his every move. Nobody has ever seen him near water, making Theseus an especial target on rainy days.

Pure blood Endrians are so rare that they’re almost extinct, but too many perfect puzzle pieces slid together. On the few occasions of hearing him speak, he even welded the Endrian tongue to a T.

Oh what the government would give to have him in the hero industry. This made the both of them just more of a target to heroes. And villains, for that matter.

A little while after his first sighting, a short video went viral when someone in L’manburg secretly filmed Ender picking a bundle of alliums to hand to Theseus. It was directly after a battle where Theseus got too injured to fight and Ender’s teleportation was seemingly on cooldown.

That earned them the soon to be iconic little name of Allium Duo. While neither of them ever publicly addressed it, Wilbur could assume that Theseus was embarrassed, as he was sure to never get caught taking an innocent break ever again.

But back to the current moment here, Theseus was a child forced to face life threatening fights almost every day. Wilbur wet his lips, “Love, you shouldn't have had to-”

“N’ stop fuckin’ calling me that shit,” Theseus interrupted. The nicknames? He could never stop, that was his love language.

“Why? Are you embarrassed? It’s ok if you’re embarrassed,” Wilbur asked innocently enough. Although a part of him wanted to egg him on a little. It was, nonetheless, a genuine question.

Theseus huffed “Of fuckin’ course not,” 

Wilbur couldn't help but smile, just a little, at that. Theseus didn't notice as he glared holes into the floor.

The space between them closed as Wilbur slid up next to him. His head spun with the movement. Him and Theseus were now side by side. Wilbur reached one arm around the boy while the other held one of his hands.

Theseus brought his knees to his chest, not moving his hand or any part of his body away from Wilbur. They just sit there in that hazy room. Wilbur was gently rubbing his nails along Theseus’ side, some dried blood flaking off. Theseus couldn't help but slump over a little bit, right up against Wilbur. His tail laid limp off to the other side.

The longer Wilbur sat still, the more noticeable that sharp pain in his gut was. The lack of stimuli made it hard to think of much else.

That was, until Theseus shuffled. Wilbur glanced down at him, by the time his eyes made it to the boy, his hands were already firm on his mask.

Wilbur held his breath.

First the glasses came off, though his eyes were still concealed from Wilburs line of vision by beautiful brown eyelashes. Next, Theseus hesitated but ultimately carried on to remove the lower mask. A light gray piece of fabric with now visible interior metal, probably used for better sound cancellation, that covered only his nose, mouth and jaw.

His whole head was still sort of angled down, making it difficult for Wilbur to get a good look, but he wasn't rushing him of course.

The last piece seemed the most difficult, so difficult that Theseus had to steady himself with a few deep breaths first.

Although neither of them said so, they both knew that Wilbur was intently watching his precious identity unfold before his very eyes.

“You don’t have to,” Wilbur reassured quietly, even though he knew it wouldn't change Theseus’ actions. And even if it did, it wouldn't change their situation, it wouldn't change anything, nothing matters anymore.

A heartbeat later and Theseus rips the final article of his mask off, fluffy ears bending with it before popping right back up. 

Wilbur was now unable to hold his breath, all air escaping his lungs.

While Theseus was still slumped over and glaring at the ground, all Wilbur could see was a gorgeous dirty-golden blonde head of hair with two sheepish tanuki ears flat against it.

Wilbur feels the vibrations against his arm when Theseus next speaks. “M’ nm’s Tommy…”

It was barely loud enough, but it was, nonetheless.

Tommy. Such a childish, youthful name. The name reminded Wilbur of sunshine and beaches, not violence and gore like the boy has had to induce so many times.

“Tommy,” Wilbur whispered back, tasting the name, squeezing him closer.

It was somehow so fitting.

He waited patiently for the younger to look up. After several moments, when he finally did, Wilbur saw every bare detail of his pretty face. 

The same mocha brown lashes which he got a glimpse of before, now on display for Wilbur and only Wilbur to see. His tense eyebrows that pinched together, but only a little. There were his light pink lips that trembled if he really focused, very light freckles dotted his nose, and a unique cleft chin. He also had some animalistic medium brown short-fur marks on either side of his eyes, resembling a tanuki, his animal side.

The most noticeable feature were the blinding ocean blue eyes that once hid behind those rose shades that are still in his lap now. They held such a vibrancy that only a child could possibly possess, something that will wear down over time. 

Would- wear down over time… right, he will be dead by tomorrow.

Thes-Tommy, oh so young Tommy, is going to have to live with his beautiful shining blue eyes for the rest of his life. His miserable little life that is going to end far too early.

As young as Tommy looked, he also looked so damaged. His lips were chapped and peeling, his hair was dehydrated and frayed, his cheeks were slightly sunken in, and he had horrid dark eyebags. There was also a small scar, something barely lighter and a tint more red than the surrounding skin on his cheek.

As far as Wilbur knows, it’s pretty unusual to get scars on your face during battle. It’s an unspoken rule between villains, vigilantes, and most of the time heroes, to never unmask someone. Because of that, it’s not often that they get scars on their face.

The hero industry hardly ever is patient enough to try and peacefully capture and imprison a criminal, but rather just kill them once they get the chance. Most of their actions are controlled by the government, there isn't much free will in being a hero. Bringing civilian identities into this world of secrets just makes everything a bigger mess.

They'll get involved either way, but people seem to prefer it happening after the damage is done. 

His whole life, Wilbur thought he would never understand such a strange rule of thumb. Zeph and Boreas have tried to explain how much more complicated the job can get when civilian identities are involved, so Wilbur never unmasked anyone much for their sake. Now finally, after what he knows about the brave vigilante Theseus… Well, he almost wishes he never took his own mask off to begin with. 

Almost. But at least he's here now to comfort Tommy now, the scared little boy.

Wilbur wanted to ask about the scar on his cheek, but it's just not the time. He probably had so many stories about his life that Wilbur could only dream of hearing. He would never be able to though, he could distantly feel his heartbeat getting slower and slower with each passing hour.

But his current focus is on the still damp tear streaks smeared across the boy's face. The same tears that poured from his azure soul into Wilburs lap.

Wilbur took his hand that was already wrapped around Tommy to pull him to a more upright position. Tommy complied with no protest. Though once he was sat up properly, he couldn't keep himself there, falling back towards Wilbur, putting his hands out before collapsing completely.

No words were exchanged as Wilbur held Tommy against himself to keep him stable as he brought his free hand to wipe the teens' tears. No words, only sniffles and exhausted grips.

–

Tommy has been alone for so long. Yes, he had his pal Ranboo, doubling as his vigilante colleague, Ender, and yes they have known each other since childhood. But there was too much going on between the two. Tommy isn't totally sure if they're really friends any longer. 

In public, on patrol, most everything is smooth sailing. They work together great, because it's pure muscle memory. Tommy fights the best he can, gets injured, Ender grabs him and leaves. They get to the apartment, splash a potion and then sleep. 

The fights, the settings, the injuries are often different, but the routine is the exact same.

But in that crummy little apartment that doesn't have hot water half of the time, their relationship is different. His partner is enderwalking most of the time, not even conscious enough to have a conversation.

Ranboo’s amnesia has been getting worse over the past few years. Frankly, it was an awful idea he had to bring Ranboo into his vigilante business. Well, it was a stupid idea to even start this vigilante business at all, just look where it got him.

In a warm and loving embrace by his very enemy.

This kind and loving man Wilbur is also Eurus. Tommy never wanted to fight Eurus, or any villains actually. 

He wanted to stop ghetto criminals from mugging that funny Mexican guy living three blocks down from him in Logstedshire. Or the ram hybrid boy from Snowchester who brought a batch of bread loafs for whoever was outside at the time.

One thing led to another and he was out there fighting, like actually fighting crime. And even though Tommy knew Ranboo was spiraling, he was stressed and ended up asking Ranboo to take on the name of Ender and be his partner.

Before patrol, Ranboo would take an adrenaline shot, which kept him from enderwalking for at least a few hours. This has failed more than once when it wore off too quickly then almost got Tommy killed.

The most notable time was the one and only one that made it to public view. Tommy laid in the blistering heat a little ways off to the side of L’manburg, the richest part of the Essempii. All while Ender, eyes glowing purple, barely visible through that dark veil, ignored the nearby spilled blood in favor of picking alliums.

The enderwalking version of himself seemed to really like alliums, as they reminded him of his own particles.

Some loser caught this life threatening moment on camera from a distance, then posted it all over social media as if it were something wholesome. And it sure tricked the press. Thus, they were known as Allium Duo. 

And, well, what could ya do?

Ultimately, Tommy just hoped that Ranboo was okay, and would eventually totally forget about him and what they had. Tommy hopes that Ranboo will find someone else, someone better to take care of him and someone who won't drag him into shitty selfish projects like Tommy had done.

But all he could do was hope. He can’t even cry anymore, he was too tired. Wilbur still had his gentle fingers wiping away the remains. In any other situation, Tommy might shove him and swear that he doesn't need help. He would angrily sign too fast for the dumb bitch to keep up, then shoot him a signature middle finger.

But that's any other situation. Any situation but this. In this situation, he would dissociate over the unstoppable agonizing yet dull pain. He would lean into the touch of what feels like the most loving hand that he has ever come in contact with.

He would ignore the foggy heat as he accepts that this is his coming to an end. He never really had that much of a legacy anyways. A small fan base consisting of his fellow Logstedshiers who praised him for keeping the streets safer was all he had. Well, and he was on a couple of villains hitlists and the heroes were out for him.

He wasn't going to die a hero, he will die a traitor. In however long it takes, they will find entangled eroding bodies, later identified as two sworn enemies. People will be disappointed in him. The Mexican man, ram hybrid guy, they will all see him for who he really was, some fucking idiot who knew he wouldent be able to do this and ended up resorting to his enemies arms.

Tommy secretly wishes that Ranboo will remember their story long enough to tell it to the world. Tommy wants the harshest judgment for himself, from all the gods out there, and the people of the Essempii. It’s just the karma that he deserves. 

Until then, he tries to enjoy these last moments. Wilbur had been holding Tommys light body weight up while examining his face and some of the visible scars and bruises along his arms. Wilbur also took his wounded hip into consideration and was clearly gentle near it. Tommy had not noticed till now, just dissociating and thinking of Ranboo and whatever else it was- he already forgot. He doesn't really care to remember.

He still didn't pull away, but actually leaned closer until his head was right up against the older’s chest. Wilbur paused for just a moment before letting go of his previous holdings to rearrange his hands to fully embrace the boy. Wilbur placed a hand near Tommys sensitive tanuki ears, scratching softly.

Tommy wanted to hear Wilbur’s heartbeat, even if it was slow and dying, it was still there. It was slow and dying right along his own. It was a selfish thing to find comfort in, but what was Tommy at this point if not selfish? 

They just lay there in silence. Neither of them were really there. Maybe physically they were, but not mentally.

And there was absolutely nothing to do about it. His whole body ached of nothingness, an odd sensation. The room was so hot just minutes ago, but that suddenly changed. It now felt like frigid stale air. It still felt like nothing, just colder.

Wait, was he still alive? Tommy took a breath. Okay, he is still here, and so is the pain. Tommy sighs. And so was Wilburs heartbeat. 

Tommy decides to pray to his god’s one last time. Well, Lady Prime was his one true goddess, but he occasionally worshiped others as well. Such as Lady Death, who’ll be in control here, so she is the most obvious choice. 

He asked her to forgive Wilbur from his past and not send him to the deepest depths of whatever the afterlife is. Maybe Wilbur didn’t deserve to be in the happiest of places, but Tommy asked Death to send him somewhere bearable at least. 

He subconsciously also asked her to send himself with him. Wherever he went, Tommy wanted to follow.

After his quick prayer, it feels like an eternity before anything happens. He could have died by now and he wouldn't even know until Wilbur said something.

Oh, Wilbur said something- Tommy could barely gather the strength to offer up a small “hm?” when he didn't process his words the first time.

He felt Wilbur exhale, preparing to repeat his words. Then quietly, “How do you feel right now?”

How did Tommy feel? He felt like nothing, like the infinite empty void that will soon consume his whole being. 

No that's not right, it couldn't be. Because when he thought about responding, the edges of his mouth slightly rose. Why was he smiling? Was this even considered a smile? His eyes painstakingly fluttered open and he used strength he didn't know he had in him anymore to just barely glance up at the man. The tender side of hell, it seemed he was looking at. Forever patient and affectionate and doting.

The two made eye contact. Tommy was positive that when he closes his eyes again, he won't ever have the strength to open them. It’s now or never.

“I’m happy that I won’t die alone,” and his head dropped.

Dropped right back onto that cushiony heartbeat, ever so slow, just as his own.

Wilbur hugged him tighter, not by much, but probably with all that he could muster.

Thump

Thump

It was two slow heartbeats later before he felt a drop of liquid from above. No sobs, or sniffles, just one lone tear that escaped from Wilburs chin. Tommy could piece it together without having to look. He would do something if he could, if he was just able to. But he gave up before even trying, prepared to finally fall into his destined infinite sleep. 

Thankfully, he didn't need to do anything, because Wilbur acted himself, bending further down to kiss Tommy’s scruffy head, right between his unmoving ears. 

As Tommy was starting to drift, he felt a deep inhale beneath him then heard what must have been an angel’s voice, though it was strained and tired and ultimately broken. 

Thump

“The cute bomber jacket you’ve had since sixth form,”

Tommy knew that Wilbur had a thing for the arts, and he could have guessed that he liked to sing.

“adorned with patches of places you’ve been,”

He never could have guessed himself one day falling under the waves of its tune though. 

“is nothing on my khaki coat I got from the roadside,”

Yet here he is.

“when I was sixteen,”

And Tommy slipped.

–

“let it burn out, don’t fight it, and try to move on,”

–

There was that painstakingly slow rise of a boy's shoulders as he breathed against Wilburs chest. Wilbur finished his song, still rubbing a hand behind Tommy’s motionless ears. He knew the kid was unconscious by now, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. Even when each swipe of his fingers made his arm feel heavier. 

When Wilbur opened his eyes, which he barely could, he would see the foggy room with some blood on the floor and masks in the corner. He would look down to the small soul who laid in his lap, and his eyes would blur as a tear coated them each.

There was nothing left to do. Every few seconds, Wilbur counted as he felt Tommy inhale and exhale, though it was faint enough to miss a few times.

There was absolutely nothing. And Wilbur accepts that. He lays there, the hand on Tommys head moving unhurried. 

He slipped his eyes shut as they got too heavy again. He tries to ground himself, but what's the point? The pain used to be so much more intense, but now it's less and not necessarily in a good way. He just feels so cold.

He was so cold and so tired. He also wasn't totally opposed to the thought of falling asleep and not having to consciously experience the moment when Tommy stopped breathing. 

So, though he wasn't personally religious, Wilbur silently prayed to whatever greater being may be out there, and he wished for both him and Tommy to go to a good place once they pass. Wilbur knows he doesnt deserve it, he has killed many innocents and apparently has been tormenting a kid for probably a year and a half now. Since he first made the L’manburg news anyways. And the whole time, he was having fun doing it.

A wave of shame crashed over him and with it came nausea. That sick feeling just daring him to vomit. Wilbur dizzily leaned his head back to the wall behind him, trying to suck it down. He felt the burn come up his throat, it wasn't quite as dull as the rest of his pain.

He didn’t really have the energy to push it back down, but thankfully the nausea was gone as quickly as it came and he didn't end up vomiting on himself. Well, not like it matters.

Wilbur exhaled. A moment later when he licked his lips, a metallic taste became pronounced. Now that he realizes, his whole mouth reeks of blood. He would have put the pieces together sooner if he wasn't so intoxicated by this damn gas. His gut was surely damaged enough to bleed by now from these continuous hours.

Once he made sense of it, a sharper pain in his abdomen was evident. Same thing is probably happening to Tommy, but he just isn't awake for it thankfully.

Wilbur prayed again, but this time it was just for Tommy to be safe and happy once he crossed to the other side. If there is another side. 

Hold on, is Tommy still breathing? Wilbur halts until the faint feel of Tommy’s body pushing against his own was apparent. 

Wilbur sighs a breath of relief.

He sits in silence with the faint ringing of his ears in the background. There really is nothing left to do.

The villain (is he really a villain anymore?) pulled the vigilante (he was just a hopeful kid) up to his shoulder. And there goes the last of any energy he may possess in this lifetime. 

Experiencing this death may be a worse punishment than whatever limbo he’ll get thrown into. 

The ringing got louder as his already shut eyes seemed to get darker. Then the world was gone.

Tommy was still limp in his arms, and Wilbur would never let go.

–

Later that same day, Zephyrus and Boreas would overrun the facility, killing whoever was in the way to finally make it over to a small control panel. That particular panel would be titled Room 01 - Eurus & Theseus. They then would proceed to open the foot thick solid steel door of room 01 with a simple push of a button, hefty fog flooding into the open.

They would see a cramped room with scratches on the walls, abandoned masks in the corner, splotches of blood on the floor, and two immobile intertwined boys against the furthest wall with dried tears marks down their faces.

But that was for later. For now, Lady Death would take care of Wilbur and Tommy.

“Welcome to the afterlife,” she greeted.