Log 1 : Apathy

I saw the barrel pointed towards me. I didn’t know what I was thinking. I thought, just once, I could just accept this fate. I slowly walked to him, to give him an easier shot and kneeled.

I remember Soul being infuriated at Heart as my mechanical body rotted away. The smoke still billowed from the pistol and my forehead bled and drizzled onto the grass. I was then tossed into a pit dubbed Apathy. At least the body was. There had to have been a consciousness behind all the metal, was there not? Was I only a mechanical body or was there a Mind inside that? Did I resemble Russian doll?

I remember seeing the light absorbing hand in front of me, skin blackened and unstable in the Apathy I remained in. I was about to succumb to the sickened, webbed, bilic cold of my death before I did not die. At least I believe I did not die. I remember sitting there in that pit, looking back to my mechanical body, then the unstable form of my hands.

Now, I was stuck in a pit with no way to get out. I was buried, except they were too incompetent to even bury me properly. I was just in. a pit, there was nothing more about this pit. It was a four (4) meter hole in the ground. I sat down, letting the sun rays hit my face like the bullet hit my forehead. I wanted this. I will lay in my grave, as I have dug it.

It was quite ironic, a machine dying to another held by an angel. It still smelled like smoke. I heard Soul yell, his anger bubbling until I heard the incoherent wails of Heart. I couldn’t understand a single word he said, but I did understand the hurt behind it. He was thrown in, huddling near the corner of the pit.

How couldn’t he notice me? He didn’t acknowledge my existence, just covered his eyes and cowered. I smelled blood, at least I think it was blood. It was metallic, might he be injured? I had not taken forensics; I am not qualified to investigate this. I slowly moved closer to his shuddering form. His wings were wrapped tight around him, and it was too dark to see any injuries.

I was too weak, and that ticked me off. I remember having night vision, now I do not. I was but a haze of light purely absorbed, now displaying a hollowed black, as I did not reflect light. I couldn’t even see my own hand, nor could I see his shoulder to rest it on. I wanted to say that it wasn’t his fault. I wanted to say that I wanted a sweet release and that it wasn’t his fault for him helping me in that. He hated me.

Now I was not released, but my mechanical body was destroyed. I am but a mass of pure energy, now. I was a type of energy that ran louder and quicker until it combusted into a bright blue blitz, taking down the body that came with it. I suppose the combustion came at the expense of my own body and sanity.

Logic couldn’t explain what I felt in that moment, kneeling before my potential killer. I thought I died, but no, my mechanical body was just discarded. I don’t think they remember that. I think they thought I was just the robot and nothing more. But the void in front of me that replaced my hands spoke volumes about what I was. I was a consciousness aside from Heart and Soul, much like how Soul and Heart had their own mind, I was my own Mind.

“Heart?” I heard my voice call, just barely above a whisper. I know how quiet I was without the modulator. He looked around, briefly uncovering his eyes, then convinced himself it was grief before putting his head back in his hands. It was sad how he still had the habit of looking around when his eyes were strewn across the hole of Apathy. “Heart.”

No response from him. Was he also dead? Was I dead? I do not believe I am dead, as I can walk around and look at myself. Sure, I am apart from my previous mechanisms, but I think I can still feel. I pinched myself to test the lack of pain receptors. How interesting.

The illogical weakness curled into his wings. They looked quite comfortable, but he was loud and crying. I covered my ears from his fire-alarm impression. Then again, he did provide my wish. I hate the way he couldn’t control his volume, hated the way he just thought everything would be okay, then it would not, then it would, then it wouldn’t. It was a deadly cycle of his psychological torment that would kill both of us. It did kill both of us.

With the amount of blood loss, it would only be a bit of time before he died just like I did. At least I want to believe I died and that I am gone. I cannot think I’m dead anymore. It was impossible to believe that my life ended here. Even I forgot I separated, and I was the entity and body. Now, my body lay to rust, and my brother, oh, my brother. That is my brother.

I do not look like him, nor am I even the same species. How are we one person if he cannot stand anything that dared to come about? I am the opposite. I sit through the struggles because I know it must happen in the end, sooner or later. It is best to deal with issues sooner. That means I must confront Heart… right now… I must confront him. “Heart.” I repeated. “Are you awake?”

He perked up once more, staring in one direction, then the next with his hollowed-out eyes. So, he was awake. “Mind?” His weakened, squeaky voice called. He had stopped crying at this point, just accepting his death much like I had when he aimed. “Where are you? How are you still here? Mind!” He scrambled one way, then the other when he realized I wasn’t there. I backed away before he could touch me. Odd. I can still feel and touch things, I am not fully dead.

He huddled up against my cold mechanical body, chirping quietly. I don’t know why he did it to my lifeless form, but then again, he looked just a bit calmer. I adjusted the mechanical hand with the voided appendage, gently curling fingers around his ribcage in a mockery of a hug. There is no warmth behind it. It was likely he found it warm, however. He trilled again, akin to a bird. It reminded me of the times I studied a species like him.

It also reminded me of how tired I was inside that mechanical body. Days would turn into nights, which also felt like days. The amount of work I got done increased; it turns out when you double your workday, you get double the amount of work done. It would weigh on your joints, though. My mechanical hands were heavier than I thought. It was difficult to make Heart felt comforted, not only mentally, as he was an insufferable brat most times, but also physically, my bones are weak.

I couldn’t help but sigh quietly at the sight. Maybe Soul wanted to see this? Soul wanted us to engage in comfort and make us feel wanted. The world was so big, and for what reason do we have to live except to live as creatures of a species? We have reproduction, hunting, foraging, evolution has given humans and angels alike the best chance at survival, and now Heart, as fragile as he is, is cuddling against my body like it is one of the needed capabilities, like he was needing the warmth my dead, hollowed body provided. What are his survival needs?

I paused for a moment to think about that. His survival needs, what does he need to survive? Was he different than other of his species? In what ways? Well, he is an angel, an annoying, altercative angel. He is an angel, but not in the way teachers describe students, but rather in the literal sense. The feathered wings on the back and head, the plume along his forearms, the syrinx he warbles from all point to him being an angel. Yet he has not a halo, but a glooming cloud over his head.

He needs to eat, he needs to sleep, but what else does he need? Does he need comfort? What is comfort if it was not illogical in every sense. Unneeded contact breeds these reward hormones that do nothing but hinder your performance. One could ‘cuddle’, the hormones and reward chemicals start spilling out like a faulty faucet, and then one would prefer physical touch over objectives being completed. He has the mentality of a toddler.

He calms when he is held. He stopped crying now and is laying there with the vessel I once possessed. I need to get out of here. Do I know how to get out of Apathy? I have yet to know. It’s a large hole that was clearly meant as a grave but dug too deep to be nothing but the burial of a murder victim.

I cannot believe myself, why was I so foolish in that moment? I stood still as a rock and even kneeled for him. I still saw the blood-like oil stain my head. If I was lucky, I would be able to find the bullet that pierced my skull. Something about that made me shudder. I could find the bullet that killed me using this unstable form that collected all light.

I started climbing up the hole. It wasn’t too much of a hassle, just a run and jump and hope I clear it. Hope was such a silly thing, but this small glimmer of a rainbow had me wanting to see it. I wanted to see all the colors working in harmony, is that too much to ask? So, I tried again. Another failed attempt.

It was another 4 tries before I got myself out of the pit. I watched Heart rot, and finally felt a weight lift off my shoulders. I would likely never see him again if I left now. I looked up to the clouds, looking at the beautiful pastel rainbow above me. It stretched over the horizon and hid itself in the distant hills. I couldn’t help but give a small ghost of a smile.

Soul was probably worried sick about me. I should go check on him.

Log 2 : Soul

I didn’t say a word as I stumbled through the door of the headspace. Soul was probably in there. He likely thought both of us were killed and left to rot for the worms to eat at Heart’s body and for mine to rust. My head pounded, but now was not the time for that.

I saw brown, curled hair fall over one of the couch’s arms, and I made my way over, as weak and as deadened as I felt my bones to be, I eventually found a nice place to rest against the back of it. Soul turned his head to the thud, sitting up a bit to check for intruders, but no. It was only me. He yelped and stepped back a bit. A trident was already aimed for my eyes, the same trident that gouged Heart’s out.

“Soul! It is only I, Mind.” I soothed, holding my fickle hands up in surrender to his might. “I am…” I wanted to say sorry. I wanted to apologize for living, like my mere existence was something to be ashamed of. I was tired.

“Don’t talk anymore.” Soul quietly dropped his trident and looked to me with a sheen made of tears in his eye. He sniffed and wiped his face with the palm of his hand, now it was dirty, but also, I was. “Mind? Really? What just happened?”

“Heart shot me and I let him.” I admitted. His expression shifted like the seas. I was getting a bit anxious where he sat there and didn’t say a word. So, I continued. “I haven’t been feeling myself and I’m really tired. I know it is illogical, but can I ask a favor?”

“Fire away-” His face dropped as soon as he caught onto what he was saying. I wasn’t too offended. It was a funny time to be saying that, albeit a little too soon, but it didn’t matter. “I mean yeah. Tell me.”

“Can I honor his name and action?” I found myself asking. Whose name would I be honoring? I have yet to get that far, but I want to honor his name, whoever he is. “Just this once?” I don’t cry. I never cry, and I never will cry, but my voice broke. It was probably the new bodily adjustments. My voice must yell out more to be heard, as the modulator originally increased the volume.

“What is it?” Soul asked. He didn’t understand what my train of thought was. Neither did I understand, but I was supposed to know. “What do you mean by that? Which ‘he’? You or Heart?”

“He has a need that I have yet to understand.” I spoke clinically, like it was another biology lesson or infodump. I often infodumped to him, not that he cared or anything, I don’t know if anyone did, but it was knowledge that needed out. “I do not know if it is comfort or something else. I was wondering if I could get some. If I am allowed. Not if you don’t want to. Not required. At all.” I spoke in broken sentences, the courage leaving my throat faster than the life did my body.

“C’mere.” He pulled me over the back of the couch, letting me rest near his side. His hand didn’t know where to go, and honestly, I did not know where ribs ended and waist began, let alone hips. He placed it just near the center of whatever my torso was. “You’re cold.” He was warm.

What do I do now? Do I just relax into his hold? Have I relaxed ever? Then I thought about it all again, Apathy, the forgotten mechanism, Heart, literally bawling his eyes out, dripping out the sockets, the barrel and chamber, the yelling then the pleading then the trigger then… Everything else. It wasn’t only his fault, wasn’t it? Soul shushed me, that stupidly simple gesture had me focused on him for a moment. “Hey. All that matters right now is that you’re alive, ‘kay? Do you want a new body?” He said it like getting a new body was easy.

Then again, I like this. No specific form means no bodily needs. Therefore, I can focus on my work and tasks. I was held just a bit closer to Soul, hearing him hum underneath my light body. I didn’t feel too heavy, if anything, I felt light as a feather. I don’t see why Heart enjoys this so much, it is just warm. “I like the way I am. I don’t think I need a body.”

“Okay. I accept you.” Soul whispered. Why would he need to accept my decision of not wanting a body? It was always odd. Then again, he was quiet and warm, and I was quieter and cold. It felt weird letting my head rest on his chest. I didn’t think too much of it until now. I didn’t think his breath was calm and slow and that his heartbeat was a serene kick drum rhythm.

52 BPM. That was his heartrate. He took my hand, guiding it up to his shoulder, where it did not move. I didn’t bother to move it. It was probably to enhance some form of experience. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Mind.”

Log 3 : Rest

It was a sign of weakness, though. I lifted myself out of Soul’s hold and stepped back. It was only five (5) minutes of it. I couldn’t stand it any longer than five (5) minutes, it was overstimulating and hot. Weird. I was always affected by overstimulation, but not in this degree. I suppose the mechanical body was blocking out most external stress factors.

I crossed my arms, and it felt odd to hold myself, feeling my body wasn’t great, nor was it comfortable. I was cold, every touch of mine felt like it sucked the heat in, and now everything I touched felt cold. It was odd how my form was, sometimes I had four (4) fingers, other times five (5). I stepped back before Soul could notice anything off about me.

I didn’t like how unstable my body felt. It not having such a rigid structure made me feel like I don’t exist. I like to believe I exist, even if it was an illogical thing to think considering the vagueness of my appearance. I was just a silhouette of the man we make, and there were no sharp lines, just blurred edges where Soul threatened to blur our lines so much that they would be one.

I need to contain this. Even if it was just a part of this contaminated vessel. I slipped away and to where I remembered my room, or as others said, ‘the study’ was. They call it the study because it reminded them of a library, I don’t see the resemblance. I only see a bookshelf, computer and desk, an old charging station and wardrobe. I suppose it did look quite like a library. I remember Heart being stunned at the lack of a bed. I didn’t need one, as I was a mechanical being, and could make do by just resting against the wall to charge. It was nipping me in the bud right now.

I went to the wardrobe, pulling out the first sweater I saw and draped it over my shoulders. My head poked through the neck hole. That was when I realized I was much smaller than my old mechanical body. It should have been the minor height difference that had given it away, but no. It was wearing some of my old clothing, which now ran past the palm, and the cuff was on one of my knuckles.

The neckline also revealed what would have been a bit of my collarbone. My shoulders didn’t fill my sweater like it used to. It reminded me of how Heart fit in my clothes. I remember him coming in and chirping about. He wouldn’t shut up until I gave him something to curl up in. The sleeves also reached past his palms and the neckline also showed his collarbone.

I was not Heart, however. I was his logical counterpart, smarter, calculated, and more precise. My current form suggested otherwise. The curls tilted and twirled and twisted, disintegrating and dissolving then composing and containing. They only followed the cycle once more. It was like clouds were billowing from my head. I will wrangle it in eventually.

I am still tired. I thought, since I had no body, I wouldn’t need to take care of physical things like eating or sleeping. I thought I would be a completely functioning, ultimately useful entity of logic and prowess. My hypothesis was proven wrong. I felt like I was about to collapse if I didn’t rest soon. I was also quite ravenous. How would I be able to consume if I didn’t have a mouth? At least I thought I didn’t have a mouth.

I accidentally bit my finger, the pain shot up my arm and I pulled it back immediately. That means I have a mouth and teeth underneath the void of darkness surrounding what my “true” form was. I doubt I have a “true” form underneath the blackness. That’s a shame. Although, biting my finger proved that I could eat. Cheers to that. I left my room.

Simplest fact is I must have something. I also didn’t feel like eating much, even if I was starving. I felt I ran on empty so long before the incident. I was cautious to unwrap the protein bar. What if I couldn’t finish? I’ll save it for later if I couldn’t. I ate the entire thing. I have no idea if I disposed of the wrapper properly or ate it too. Hopefully, I did the former.

Then, quite promptly, I collapsed onto the couch. It was not a food coma, I am not like Heart in that way, but it felt like ages since I have let myself just live without focusing on one thing. A surround sound of input would help me process everything. I stared at the ceiling.

Knelt in front of him, I looked up and allowed the trigger to be pulled. I even remember saying something to him. I don’t remember the specifics, but I remember Heart being stunned. I remember his grip shook against the metal before a loud bang and the dropping of metal. I remember him running. He ran and ran and ran and ran. I remember sitting there, thinking about what had happened in my life, as I did not know I had a form outside that mechanical body. I wasn’t scared.

I remember being happy. The first time in my life that I had enjoyed myself was near the end. I felt the oil drizzle down my face and smile. I watched my hands shut down, then my legs as systems panicked to stay alive, but couldn’t. I remembered that every subset of code struggled to find a realistic solution to beat the hurdle. Dopamine blocked reason, just for once. It was a flood of positive feeling, happiness surged into my mechanical framing.

I remember resting against the ground and feeling the grass through my fingertips that were losing sensation. I remember the yelling. I remember the anger and crying. Then I remember losing my consciousness, and the pit and all.

My head rested back, and the cloud surrounding my body settled. It was comfortable on the couch. I felt the warm cushions against my back and the back of my head. I took a deep breath, chest slowly rising and falling like the tides. My eyelids felt heavy.

I thought about the world once more, how fast it would be moving when I rest. There are only twenty-four (24) hours in a day, and there are seven (7) days a week. How long was I gone and in that pit? I must have rested then, right? I was still so tired.

I rested my eyes. The world couldn’t be any more frightening. The thoughts passed quickly, and the days passed quicker. I couldn’t recollect that had happened without thinking about what came before. I remember the sleepless nights and the anxiety that came with.

I need to relax. That’s how you sleep, at least multiple studies suggest it to the point where it was proven fact. Sleep was a finicky thing. I am a light sleeper, unlike Heart who can be out for days. He has a lot of dreams, sometimes nightmares. I remember him gently opening my door to curl up beside me during concord. He always tries to leave as soon as he wakes up, but the stirring beside me also wakes me up. It was funny. One time, even Soul came in to rest against me.

That was with my mechanical body, however. This spirit or body, the one that was suited for things I have yet to figure out, wasn’t built like my old body. It was wispy and cold, the exact opposite of the sturdy and warm metal of my previous form. Maybe I could be comfortable. I took a deep breath, tilting my head back.

I finally went to sleep.

Log 4 : Just Apathy

I woke up in Heart’s bed. How much time has passed since I slept? Why was I even in Heart’s room? I was a light sleeper; I would have woken if disturbed. The feathers were poking into my sides, uncomfortable yet fluffy. How does Heart sleep like this? He doesn’t, he naps anywhere he wants to.

I sat up, jumping in shock at the lack of a mechanical hand. Never mind, it was a false alarm. I know what happened before I went to sleep. I forgot. I don’t forget many things, but I never needed to check if my hands were still attached to my body.

Heart’s room was always dark, I had never even tried to look in here before. I thought it was a waste of time, and generally, it was. There was a drum set, soundproof walls, a messy closet with clothing strung out and romance novels littered in purple highlighter and annotations. Were they proper annotations? No. They were little remarks like “how cute!” or “u BETTER get with him”. Both demonstrated improper grammar and punctuation.

I set the Twilight novel back in the shelf. Vampire romance wasn’t my thing. The issue is that I didn’t know how he organized it. Was it alphabetically? By author? Topic? Hell, even color? What sort of organization was this? I shoved it in the spot that was disturbed slightly, likely the spot where it came from. I shouldn’t have been snooping around in his room. I should be out of here.

I stood up from my crouch, legs stumbling to help the otherwise. I glanced along the posters, various bands and cartoons that I have no idea about. What in the wild world was Sailor Moon? I knew what Tally Hall was, also Will Wood. Some Vtubers as well. Rin Penrose was also up there. I do not know who Rin is, but I am sure they are nice. I hope. I couldn’t care less what he does in here, I just need to get out. I should get out.

I felt a little mesmerized at how it was. It was so filled with life, like someone lives here. Now he’s gone. He is rotting in a hole. This lived-in room belonged to someone. It was not a set for a television show or movie. It was an honest to Harmonia, lived-in room filled with someone’s life. I feel like I am walking through someone’s brain and looking at their brain space. Little memories staining each day and draining into the interests of someone.

I remember, right outside this door with a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign, Heart curled up into his wings and tried to cry it out. He couldn’t even get to his room before the ineffectual emotions overflowed his psyche. He was loud, so I hid in my room. I didn’t see to ask if he was okay. We never asked if we were okay, I don’t ask if they’re okay, and they don’t ask me if I was okay.

Looking back, I probably wasn’t okay. No one was okay. Heart cried each night, Soul was quick to anger, which often reflected his bottled emotions. I would also be upset if my two halves couldn’t make up for the life of them. I didn’t know what I did. I was working to no goal. Just repeatedly, day in and day out, just sitting there and struggling with nothing. Words with no meaning filled essays. Some turned violent.

I likely would have been okay if someone checked on me. Someone should have told me it was okay to take a break and to relax. I was doing everything and had everything on my plate without receiving thanks or help. What if Soul checked in on me? What if he sat down by my charging station and asked if I was doing okay? What if he checked in on Heart? What if Heart missed?

Questions and what-ifs are nothing to be concerned over. I just think that maybe Heart and Soul talked on this very bed, the one I woke up in. They like talking without me. I know I can be a bit overbearing. I wonder what they talk about. Do they like making fun of me or do they talk about something else? I would also make fun of me. I would also be mean to me. I don’t care.

My hand hovered over the door, the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign was swing inward, he would have been accepting people to come in. Likely not me. He was rotting in the pit. Something clawed inside me. His room looked homely, like a home inside a home. Likely because it was his home. His home had low lights, just one lamp near the corner of his bed, a soft rug that tickled the bottoms of my feet, and made the world seem small. I see why he comes here when overstimulated or even understimulated. It could provide both.

I took one last look in the abandoned room before leaving. I don’t have time for feelings like this. I could be working. I should be working, in fact. My bones didn’t move with the motivation to work, however. I stood in the doorway without giving a second thought to my want to work. Procrastination was always my enemy. I never procrastinate, but I believe this is what it is. It was like my body froze at the thought of just being productive.

I hated that. I could be typing essays; I could be doing something. Instead, I was frozen in the doorway, unable to truly think of what to do when at the end of this road. I swallowed whatever lump formed in my throat, even if I was choking on the possibility of my death. Where was the world if not for the possession of logic? I remained in the doorway. I couldn’t think about it much, as I needed to continue. I need to trudge through this life, even though I have been stumbling as of late.

It was just apathy. I deserved this form of apathy. The apathy in the way where I didn’t care where I went, I only cared that I was out. Like I said, just apathy, the apathy I deserve to display because what else would I do if I’m not doing what I’m supposed to. I’m the structure, the setting, the blue sky and the blue ocean. I am the walls in a building and the steel beams that hold up towers. I help others reach high.

Because I’m the brains. I don’t do talking, I don’t do people. I give an outline of what to say and the person that speaks should get it right. If they don’t? Then we all fail, but I know they cannot blame me, as I did the entire thing. I don’t care. I shouldn’t care. I don’t.

I don’t care that Heart could be dying. I don’t care! You know what? We’re better off without him! I could get twice as much work done, and I could just exist without arguments! It sounds quite peaceful without a rampaging mourning dove trying to mess everything up. Plus, he’s probably already dead anyways. I shouldn’t have to worry about it.

I don’t care. I don’t care! You know, I could get a lot done, I know I already mentioned it, but he wouldn’t be whining all the time because he… he… I understand now. He needed comfort. All those times he cried were times where he didn’t have a support system, I see. Why didn’t I notice this earlier? This could have been a massive hinderance to our productivity. No! Why am I thinking about productivity right now when my LITERAL BROTHER IS DYING.

“Soul, we need to get Heart out RIGHT NOW.”

Log 5 : The Heart Acoustic

There he was, on the ground and left to rot by me. He wasn’t awake, at least I don’t think he was. He was paler than my now deadened mechanical skin. There was a small trail beside my old body where the dirt had been disturbed, but not too much, like he tried to move it then abandoned the action.

Soul looked to me, then to Apathy where Heart lay. He was acting so childish. Occasionally there was a plate scattered about, so at least he was eating. I am not so sure if he was getting enough water, though. I let myself down, and Soul followed. It felt weird being here again, as I was so sure I was in the right for leaving him. Now, not so much.

“What do you want us to do with him?” Soul’s voice asked, like I was the ruler right now. Oddly enough, I didn’t feel like a ruler, I just felt like a man who had been forced out of his body to then help the slightly lesser man who gave him temporary relief. Would Heart really be slightly lesser? “It’s your choice. We could choke him, burn him, whatever-”

“Please don’t hurt him.” I found myself pleading. My form wisped and whirled as I crouched by the downed angel. “He’s just a little kid.” That was a weird thing to say. Usually, I would berate him for this. Usually, he would be the object of my insults, and I still wanted to insult him. I just think now is the wrong time to do such a thing. He couldn’t even hear me.

Heart stirred; his wing twitched once before laying limp. It was covered in grime, along with the rest of his body. The only thing that remained clean was one of this headwings, which looked pristine. Was that stress preening? I ran my hand along the dirty headwing. I saw a bit of the dirt fall and the feathers ruffle. I then scratched the base. I don’t know why I was doing this. I could have held him to my chest and gotten him out by now.

But no, I continued petting him. His curls were matted, and his body was cold, much like how Apathy was, it was fall, after all. Ever so gently, I pulled Heart against my chest, feeling his hollow breath to my collarbone. He’s alive. I stood up with him, turning to Soul. He nodded and smirked. He was teasing me. “I didn’t take you for the caring type.”

“I didn’t take you for the murder type.” I grumbled, lifting Heart from the hole using the leverage from Soul. I climbed out, then helped Soul out. His touch was warm, but Heart didn’t feel as warm as Soul. Anything felt warm to me. I picked Heart back up against my chest, arm under his knees, the other supporting his back.

“Do you… want help with that?” Soul asked awkwardly, scratching the back of his curled head. He said it like I was incompetent, but too nervous to blatantly say it. He should just say I looked incompetent instead of dancing around it. “I mean… you’re cold, and he kind of needs warmth.”

“I am plenty warm.” I wasn’t. I was freezing, but holding this little thing made me feel like I was important. I felt much more important how I usually displayed I was. I knew deep down I mattered just as much as this little creature in my arms, and now that I was saving him, holding him, it made me feel better. Not that I’m only doing this for the ego boost, but it’s a plus. “I can carry him.”

“Alright. I believe you.” Soul backed off my case. Instead, he lazed about and started dawdling back to the headspace. He walked like he had time to spare and spend in the stupidest ways. Then again, it might be what I needed.

Heart’s tears flowed again. He was crying against me. I heard the sobs riddle through his frame as he realized he was being saved. His voice was too weak to speak, but I heard a chirp and trill in tired delight. Something in my chest lurched forward, like it tried to press against Heart’s. “Shut up.” My voice had no conviction; I didn’t want him to shut up. In reality, I was happy he was alive, and his chirping reaffirmed he was alive. He continued chirping.

The night was dark, but Soul had a flashlight, so it was alright. He did force me to stay close, however, as it would be extremely easy to lose me in the darkness. I did find out my eyes glowed. The two pristine pale eyes were a flashlight in their own way.

We got to the headspace, Soul opened the door and immediately I dropped the bird on the couch. I will clean the couch later. He shuddered and hugged himself. Immediately, Soul started preening his wings. I watched the two.

Now Heart was back. That’s amazing. The favoritism would remain, however. I knew Soul would check in on Heart more than he does me. It’s alright, just a bit tiring knowing that he relates more to Heart than he does me.

I shouldn’t be thinking about that. The chirping was bright and cheerful when he received a proper cup of water. His arms were stretched, then his legs, then his wings. Heart then immediately hugged Soul. I don’t know how long his communication will be reduced to chirps, but I hope it isn’t too long. He was still sobbing, unable to stop. His hands shook.

Now, I am starting to think those tears weren’t of gratefulness. He had accepted that fate, and now it was being taken away from him. I wanted that afterlife. This is way too familiar to make me comfortable. This is stupid, Heart wasn’t me, I wasn’t Heart. While this is amazing, time will just leave us to the fate we had accepted. We would be in Hell and still argue. We will be in hell.

Don’t you dare think less of me. I just believe the fate had been determined but people believed otherwise. He could have died, and he would have been happy. My jaw clenched. He would have been stress-free. These thoughts are so trite and cliché. I would have been happy if I was the mechanical body instead of a virus. I was content with the end.

Now, I don’t believe I am content. I was cloaked in dimness as the light had been pulled into my form. I felt like I do not belong in the light, that I need a shell encasing the worst of me. My hands were still shaking, I couldn’t control it. I shouldn’t be shaking, but I was. My vision blurred a little bit at the edges, narrowing at Soul and Heart.

I swallowed down my bile.

Log 6 : Be Born

I do not know what this sense was. It crept over my bones as I stood there frozen. My brain was scowling. It was like someone filled my insides with acid and dumped it out and left it to burn. I watched them huddle together, even if Heart was immensely dirty.

Never mind, never mind! Time is moving without me. I have stuff that need to get done. If I just stand by while the world is moving, it doesn’t make me any more than Heart. I need to focus, and right now, I suppose we have almost three essays for our sound design course. Our stupid… stupid sound design course.

We’ve been making music for longer, why do we need to write essays for this course? I stuffed it down and turned around. No. I am not going to deal with this. I don’t have to question anything about the course, they’re the professionals. “Mind.”

I turned to my name, looking at the two once more. Heart had pulled out from Soul’s hold, now putting a hand on my shoulder. Instinct kicked in. I was halfway through shoving him away before I even realized I shoved him. I then gripped his bicep, so he didn’t fall to the floor. “I’m sorry.” I muttered, as weak as it was to apologize. My voice glitched, shaky and unnatural. “Next time don’t sneak up on me.”

“Right.” Heart chirped and tilted his blind head. He was blind because of me. That made a shudder go down what would have been my spine. “Can I talk to you?” Heart whispered, taking my forearm in what he hoped to be my hand. I remember, because back then, I was taller, and he would have to go a bit higher. Now, I was just like him, but a bit different.

“Sure.” I was led first, into a wall, then the kitchen, then the bathroom, then the outside of my room, with Heart fussing as to why he can’t open it like he would his own room, then I lost my patience and led him to his room, the place where I assumed he wanted to go.

He giggled bashfully, the flush rising on his cheeks. “Oops.” I was led into the lived in room again, this time it was warmer with its little spark inhabiting it. He was already feeling his room out, as he would be spending a lot of time here. He hardly came out. I can see why. “I’m sorry that I kinda… shot you.” Heart whispered.

I didn’t think Heart would apologize for it. I asked. I knelt in front of him and asked for the release. I know he threatened, but I asked for it not to be a threat. It was my fault I was like this: that I wasn’t the mechanical body, but a parasite. I bit my tongue for a moment before taking a deep, bugged breath. “Don’t be.”

“Is this some kind of manipulation? Again? Where you say I shouldn’t be sorry and that you’re really angry and everything?” Heart’s little voice accused me of lying to him. I didn’t lie to him, not right now. I wanted that. I just thought it would be over in a snap. The fallout was killing me. “You always do that to me; you make me feel safe when I’m not. Say it with your chest, Mind, am I safe or not?!”

“You are safe-afe.” I said simply. I wasn’t angry at him for an action I did. That would be illogical and would get us nowhere. It would be best to pin the blame on me, because I did it. “But tell me, Heart, were you okay in the hole dug for my remains? Did you want your remains to be with mine?”

He didn’t say anything. He was such a little kid in that way, he doesn’t look up at anyone when he must admit something. Instead, he looks to the floor and points his toes together like an honest toddler. This was the same little spiel he did every time he confessed something, like breaking a vase or admitting to something worse. “It was scary at first, but then it was okay. I didn’t mind if I went out.”

Empathy struck in my chest against the usual apathy to emotion. It was warm and filled my body with a sort of tingle that I tried to push out of my head. It only got worse. “Right-right. I-I shouldn’t have asked.” My head started pounding. God, this useless little- wonderful little- SOMETHING. He is something. He has matter. I do not.

“You’re different.” Heart pointed out almost immediately. How the hell does someone do that? It was so fast too, like the nail on the head. It cracked my skull as my head felt like it was breaking. “Are you really okay?”

“You’re the same as I, you cannot be talking, hypocrite.” I snapped, venom spewing from my tone like a Komodo dragon. I hated that. I got so defensive over what? Heart doing his stupid job like I’ve wanted him to do?! “Half a hollow person, so just stop caring. I am nothing like you. I am better, I’m stronger, smarter, more logical, the better half of man, 100% more man that you will ever be! I am real!”

“So, you’re implying I’m not real? That I am 0% man, yet I stand here as a biological man?” Heart asked. What happened to him? Usually, that would get him off my back for a moment, as he wouldn’t deal with someone as arrogant as myself. Instead, he shrugged it off and fought my logic with his own. “Are you implying that you too are a hollowed, depressed person?”

No. I wasn’t. I WASN’T. “Stop-op putting words in my mouth.” I spoke with a sting in my tone. The words distorted into computer glitches the more I talked. I hated that. It was basically saying ‘I’m losing’ in golden letters on a cake. “I can’t have depression! I’m the logic, Heart, remember this. THINK.”

“So, it’s not logical to have depression?” Heart cleared his throat, wings flapping just a bit despite the dirt and grime. “General apathy towards every situation, finding idealness in an escape, any escape, generally below average mood, thoughts of-”

“I GET IT.” My voice was dissolved into the bits like I had a natural bitcrusher in my throat. I didn’t, but it was very painful. “Stop listing the symptoms of depression knowing you have it. You’re just listing your own symptoms. You’re not special. You just think you’re smart because you read one psychology book.” It was so familiar it was frightening. “You think you’re so amazing because you’re the equivalent of an angel on Earth. They’ve fallen for a reason, Heart. How does that contribute to the fact that it’s not illogical?”

“It doesn’t, but I saw you flinch.” Heart crossed his arms like it was a checkmate. Then his wings flapped just a little bit, some of the dirt came loose. “Look, Mind, I’m not the villain and you’re not the victim, we both wanted different things and that reflects in our ideologies. To you, I shot you and got my proper punishment, to me, I was fulfilling a request and was worried for you. I thought a lot in that hole, Mind. I don’t consider myself a philosopher, but I do know that you’re someone deserving of love, even though I dislike you.” Heart fiddled with his moon necklace the entire time, running his fingers over the metal like it was a stim of his. He had plenty of his own little fidgets and stims. “You can’t lie about that. You’re still your own person…”

“We are a part of one. We aren’t our own person; we can’t be our own person. There will be no point in time where we are a full person because we are only a third of a person. I don’t even have a name. My only identifier is ‘Mind’, and I am happy to stay as Mind. You can keep your little prissy-happy fairytale ending and leave this world thinking you have control over your autonomy, even though, we both know, deep down, we don’t have any. We’re doomed to fight, on Earth, in Heaven or in Hell. You are nothing. You will never be a full person. We are nothing. I. Am. Nothing.”

Heart couldn’t see how furious I was. He couldn’t see anything, all thanks to me. I asked him. This stupid, hollow, third of a person didn’t get to have a say in who we are. Nor do I. Do I look like I don’t want to be whole? NO! I want to be whole as much as Heart wants to be okay, but this world is kill or be killed. The latter is looking quite appealing.

“And you need to accept that, or we all die.” Heart waited for me to finish my own little spiel, then nodded quietly. He pointed to the window. He probably meant to point to the door. He likely wanted me out. I took my leave. Time will move either way, dead or not.

Stupid how it all went down.

Log 7 : Storm and a Spring

What sort of man even considers that? Logic says we’re the same person just in a different font. My font would likely be Times New Roman, Heart’s would be Comic Sans and Soul’s would be something like Impact, I don’t care. But even if you change the font, it is still the same text. It still has the same grammatical and spelling errors, and it won’t change anything to make the font harder to read.

Keep it deep inside and the hell that I had been in will eventually dissipate. He’s just frail and feeble, and any other adjective. He can hide from the light as much as he wants but he needs a verb to fix us. He needs to run, to walk, to crawl, to climb, to help, to do something. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing I say is new.

All he heard was a stream of words without meaning, sentence without structure, and he clearly wasn’t listening. He probably zoned out the second I started speaking. The words came down like raindrops, all seemed the same without any variation. Nothing to his crying.

But he wasn’t crying, nor was he loud. He was always crying. Was this mental state a lie? Was he feeling horrible on the inside or was he feeling jolly? Looks are deceiving, I had seen it first-hand. I remember the lies with Soul. I remember every single lie they tell, saying they’re okay but then the whole suffers a fatal injury.

At this point each ‘I’m okay’ and every tear will disappear into the rain that falls. Like gravity, their expression will fall into a frown, and they say they had tried, but deep down, they know they hadn’t. And I was the only one trying to achieve our whole. I had to remind them that we are nothing compared to the man that presents on the surface. He is our ultima, not our silly little games and fights.

But this pressure placed on our shoulders only presses down until we become a perfectly pressed picture printed onto paper or colored with crayon on the canvas. Only until the day we die should we be relieved from this pressure. Soul can take us out anytime he wants to. At least, that’s what he says. I doubt it.

We each play an equal part, I am the Mind, his logic, representation and analytics, Heart is his emotions, love and other gushy things, and Soul was the husk of him, the personality with strewn guts. We promised we would stay together, but one turns to two which turns to three.

One plus one cannot equal two, but that isn’t the math we are doing here. We are not one. We are one third, which means three thirds make one. Heart’s math is wrong. He was never good at math. We took an oath, raised our right hand that we would cooperate, but now my mechanical hand is gone. Does that mean the oath is broken, since the hand that made it is now gone?

What the hell does he think he is? Does he think he’s better than us all because he can experience the pressure of being a human? That I am less than human? I am the better part of man; it was a simple fact that I had stated. I am the pinnacle of mankind. He is the first one to die under the weight and be pressed into a stupid kindergartener’s caricature. I know it. I see to it.

And he won’t even do anything to be whole, he just sits around in his room trying to bring about fake tears to garter faker sympathy. Because none of us can feel sympathy, we’re all stuck in our own heads thinking we are our own person. It is a sickening truth, but one that must be said. We are nothing more than our respective districts.

We’re slowly dying out here. What the hell do I even do about that?! It’s not my fault people keep reacting with emotion rather than actually doing something! What am I doing? I’m cleaning the bathroom. Why not?! Cleanliness caters clarity. Cleanliness keeps carefulness. Cleanliness is clean, and if it is clean, it’s easy to search for things.

Pain would be such a simple thing when we just undermine it as a physical thing. We could be so much better if we just separated the physical from the mental. It would be so much easier to communicate or to act or speak, because our brain wouldn’t match what we do physically. But no, it had to be connected to help Soul manage things easier, even though he’s slowly dying. Even though our vessel is dying with each fatal attempt.

These woes that they sing will be the equivalence of nothing when time passes us by, so what was the point in crying?! WHAT’S THE POINT IN ANYTHING? There’s nothing to even think about much more other than believing we’re better than the other. How can nothing be better than nothing? Are there different tiers of nothingness that I have yet to understand? It’s illogical!

And he insists he’s okay. He insists, waking up from this ever so violent narcosis, that there is no problem besides the fact that we aren’t whole. I took care of him for two days and didn’t sleep because I was nervous that he would die in his sleep. He didn’t. Then again, and again, and AGAIN, and AGAIN, AND AGAIN.

I punched the wall. I didn’t do much damage, and my fist didn’t hurt like I thought it would. It just felt numb. The logical third of the trident punching a wall! Isn’t that humorous? Cut it all out of my life, isn’t that interesting how I can just do that?! This world is nothing but someone’s imagination, isn’t that funny?

My body turned warm, it spread through then drew itself back in, leaving me in the cold. It repeated this motion in flashes. My vision hazed like the thing in the bathroom mirror. This wasn’t my face. My face had life; my face had a sort of smile. This wasn’t my face, but it was still in the mirror. It stared back at me with wide, unblinking eyes.

The bile threatened to crawl up again. This time I didn’t stop it. I started running the sink to cover up the noise of my gagging. It was only bile, a clear, acidic substance that whirled down the drain as the water ran. I watched the water drop into the small pool like rain would a lake.

I fixated on that. The water was clear, showing the white porcelain of the sink and a toothpaste stain I forgot to clean. It wouldn’t matter in due time. Much like everything else that never matters. The hot and cold flashes got quicker, leaving my body in shock and not letting it recover before switching it again. My lungs didn’t work.

I couldn’t think straight, every little drop of focus was sent with the rain, with the sink running water. It covered the sound of my breathing. Why can’t I control my body. Physicality and mentality are two different thinks, mind over matter. Mind over matter. I’m over matter. I don’t exist; therefore, I should be more than what my body portrays; therefore, I am better. Mind over matter, I try to say to myself, Mind over matter.

I remembered the chamber being emptied and Soul responding with the trident he owned. It had three prongs. He didn’t own a spear. A third of man is all I said. I am only a third of man. This world will forget someone like me, someone who panics. I gripped my chest with a hollow hand.

I couldn’t breathe. I can’t breathe. What do I do?! Do I hold my breath? No, I don’t hold my breath, I try box breathing right? Five, four, three, two, one in. Five, four, three, two, one hold. Five, four, three- * IT. I saw a tear fall. Little droplets that get washed away by the rain that sent it.

THIS WON’T MATTER IN A WEEK. I WON’T REMEMBER THIS IN A WEEK. I WILL BE OKAY IN A WEEK. THIS WON’T MATTER AT ALL! I WON’T REMEMBER THIS IN A WEEK. I WON’T MATTER IN A WEEK. IT WILL ALL JUST FALL TO THE HAND OF THE HOST BECAUSE HE CONSTANTLY FEELS THE NEED TO TEST HIS MORTALITY.

I WON’T MATTER IN A WEEK. I DON’T MATTER AT ALL FOR THAT CASE. HELL, WHO NEEDS ME WHEN YOU HAVE HEART AND SOUL? WHO NEEDS ME WHEN SOUL CAN DO JUST AS MUCH AS I CAN? PROBABLY WITH LESS THE PANIC AND STRUGGLE BECAUSE I AM JUST A STUPID, STUPID VIRUS TO THIS WHOLE.

“Mind, how long are you going to take in there?” Someone knocked on the door. The man outside, likely Heart or Soul, was unaware of what was happening inside. They just heard the water running and assumed I was in there.

“I’m cleaning the bathroom.” I said coldly. The door was locked, thank Harmonia. They didn’t give it too much of a fight. It wouldn’t matter in a week. I won’t matter in a week. They just walked away like this wouldn’t matter in a day. That the bathroom will be clean. I think. Everything won’t matter once the antivirus appears.

As I am just an akaryocyte.

Log 8 : The Mind Electric

“Nah, figure it out.” “We need to act! He’s a danger to this place.” “He’s your brother.” “He’s going to hurt us all.” It was the same conversation with him, every single time. While I appreciate how laidback he was, I don’t appreciate how he does it. “Mind, mate, he can’t hurt you. Plus, you’re the ruler, so do something about it.” “SOUL. You know he won’t listen.” “Okay? Make him.” “What do you mean ‘make him’?” “You lost your body, he lost only his eyes, not saying I’m condoning it, but do what you need to do.”

Make him listen? Is that really what Soul wanted me to do? Did he want me to hurt Heart? I might do it. Heart must be taught a lesson from the man he killed. Except I’m not a full man. Why must he suggest such a stupid thing? It sounded so stupid to even think we were our own.

Hearts head slammed against the wall, strong hands holding his chin so I could look at him in the hollowed-out eye. I was already holding his blindfold, making the light harsh against any remaining receptors he had. He was already crying, barely holding it together as he shook. “M-Mind. Please, I’m sorry.”

“You only say sorry because you know what I can do.” I muttered, tilting his head about. I saw an occasional mark, a burn, etcetera. I will admit, I did not do any of those. They were there when I had gotten to him. “You always resort to violence with me. What makes you any different? Do you think I will just stop because you are sad and weak?” The way I said it left a bitter taste in my mouth.

“I’m sorry, okay! It’s just survival instinct, m’not actually trying to hurt you.” That felt like the largest lie that had left that sour mouth in over a year. Survival instinct was threatening to pull the trigger? “Y-You kneeled for it- you said to not be sorry, you lied to me again! You stupid liar!!!” He shoved me away, trying to scramble back. “YOU KNOW I WANT TO BE WHOLE TOO, YOU STUPID LIAR!”

I gripped him by the wing. I tugged at the plume, hearing him yelp and scamper about. It was almost pathetic. I heard his heart beating wildly, feeling it in my head. It was like a kick drum, loud and deep and trying. Unfortunately, trying was not enough. “Please, Resident Heart, you dish out something you cannot receive back. Clearly something about you does not want to be whole. If you truly, honest to Harmonia, wanted to be whole, we would have been him by now.”

He squeaked as my fist contacted his face. It felt good. It felt so, so good. His violence that he commonly uses against me was flipped around to him, is it not ironic? “I WANT TO BE WHOLE TOO, CLANKER!” He shouted at me, tears flowing freely without eyes to hold them back. I do not know if I should take his tongue or throat. “I’M NOT LYING LIKE YOU ARE.”

“You think so little of me to believe I am only machine.” I slammed his head into the wall, watching with a sort of pristine precision that made me realize something about him was dying slowly. Good. “I only seek a clean life ahead, Heart. Just give in.”

“NO. MIND, PLEASE. WE’RE OUR OWN PEOPLE TOO. WE’RE NOT A THIRD, WHOLE IS JUST THREE!” I did not hear him. I only knocked more sense into him, breath dragging out heavy and long. Why was I more out of breath than he was? I am sick of this, why was I even hitting him in the first place!?

“You STUPID AKARYOCYTE.” I snapped; my hands were shaking. I was refraining myself from swinging at him again. The last thing he needs is someone hurting him. Plus, I was panting and it sounded quite loud. Two heartbeats rang in my ears, one was pounding against my chest, the other pumping like a small animal’s. “I do not enjoy this. You’re just a little kid who throws his little pity parties just to garter sympathy from Soul.”

“YEAH? YOU DON’T FEEL LIKE IT!?” He shoved me back and I let it happen. He loomed just for a moment. “I’m not a little kid, but maybe you are. How about you check yourself out, therapy’s always nice, dimwit.” His voice was a hiss, and he stamped on my chest with his boot.

“Are you going to put me in the hole again? Is that what you are going to do? Put me with my body in my grave? The one where you rotted?” I would have borne my fangs if I had any, instead it was a weird voice that felt disembodied from my own as it glitched and formed incorrectly. “Ironic, right?!”

“You ask a lot of questions for someone who ‘knows everything.’” He pressed harder on my chest. For some reason, I felt like I had to humor this. So, I laid back and allowed Heart to almost break my ribs if I had them. “And my pity parties are alone in my room. My door’s locked. You wouldn’t know that unless you checked in on me, which you didn’t.”

“It has become like white noise for me.” I admitted, hearing his boot crunch something in my chest. “Look, I know you feel like you are all high and mighty, but do not forget who the ruler is right now. I could end you.”

“But you won’t. Because if you do, we can’t be whole. My existence is by design, same with yours. If you don’t want to see that, then okay. Ignore me then. If you’re willing to see, then see. Get your * act together before we all die trying.” And he walked away in resentment. My heart was pounding, begging to be let out of the carefully cracked cage.

That stubborn, pale, akaryocyte.

Log 9 : The Soul Eclectic

I didn’t know what was happening until I felt Soul grab the back of my neck like scruffing a kitten. I was dragged to his room, and he yelled at me, then Heart came in and they got in a screaming match.

I was fiddling with my thumbs, rocking against the wall. Occasionally, I hit my head against it, but that didn’t matter much. I just listened to each of their arguments, both stupid and lacked any logical evidence. I could hardly breathe then; I was just huffing hollowly through the cavity in my core. My migraines were acting up again.

My vision was blurry, just barely flickering in and out. My body shuddered out of a need. Do I know what this need was? No. I couldn’t even remember what my real name was. Just rocking like a small child against the wall, focusing on a certain spot on Soul’s button nose. He looked angry. Again. I feel the hole in my head. Again. It throbbed.

The throbbing was like a heartbeat. It was a low bass note against the screaming that resounded like an alarm. It was like waking up at 6:00 AM all over again. Right on the dot, my body hoisted me up and made me get ready, no matter how tired I was. Now I just don’t. I don’t sleep. I think that was a bad thing.

Their indistinguishable cries were louder than the thoughts in my head. “You never listen to me!” Heart yells, “Because you can’t get it together” Soul retorts. Heart yells and Soul retorts. Soul yells, then Heart retorts. Is this what Heart and my arguments sound like? It was annoying. I wanted to stop it, but I was still rocking against the wall, staring blankly at Soul’s nose.

Thoughts were heading in and out of my mind, each getting assessed before realizing it was worthless. They did not get thrown away, instead, it was just a steady stream heading into a basket. Little versions popped in my brain. All of which were in gruesome detail.

My forehead felt cold. My hand automatically covered the place where he shot me. I mumbled something, time seeming to slow to a crawl when I lifted my wary head to look up at my fighting brothers. I repeated it, slightly louder. It sounded like static in my head, so I quit trying. “I’ve been thinking about-”

Just more arguing. They won’t stop. This is just like Heart and me. We fight all the time. The ringing in my ears only got louder. My forehead felt flamed. I don’t think there’s anything behind my eyes. I think my brain drooled like liquid out of my head. It liquified and osmosed to the floor. I stared blankly at my fingers which were repeating the motion of undoing and redoing bolts, even if there weren’t bolts there anymore.

The daze of bloodstains was quite overpowering. I looked up to them, still arguing. Soul’s nose was red with frustration. My consciousness slipped for a moment before he yipped at me. I jolted awake, staring at him with wide eyes. He looked at me for a moment, then to Heart. “You both are pathetic.” And he rushed us out and slammed the door.

An hour later, he rested his head to mine, feeling the cracked ribs underneath the sheen of smoke that surrounded my body. It felt odd being this close to someone who smelled like iron. His breathing was quiet. I gently rubbed the burns on his neck, the cause still on the ground. He quietly wrapped his arms around me, I wanted to shrug them off.

He continued panting against my shoulder. I am sick of this man, it was a constant hurt, comfort, heal and repeat. We’re just entering the comfort stage. Heart was in his room with his wails and woes and Soul was currently trying to hold me closer. I bit my tongue.

I wanted to just drag my nails over his back just to smell more. I prevented myself from that, but it wasn’t always not a possibility. I’m sorry he did that. I hope it wasn’t my fault. What do I know? It probably is all my fault.

Just like everything else.

Log 10 : Dream

I was doing more work. The words flowed on the document, just typed at approximately 60 words per minute. I was always quite the quick typer, but the fingers that I was “blessed” with (more like cursed with), struggled to keep up with my brain. The door opened from my room, and I jumped out of my skin. Oh right. I don’t have any.

It was only Soul; he was in there for a moment then looked back to me. He walked over and sat next to me. He didn’t do anything else, just watched me type. It was almost like he was in a trance watching the words appear on the screen. Hm. How interesting.

Eventually my head rested against his shoulder. I don’t know why, but his hand rubbed the top of my head. I didn’t want to fight it this time. I shut the laptop and set it aside just so I can divert my attention to the heat beside me. He was comfortable. I let myself relax just a little bit in his hold, my anxiety still resided under the surface, but this new feeling was odd.

I wasn’t supposed to be feeling. I was supposed to be perfectly functional and be working. Just day in and day out of being useful instead of whatever this was. Something in my chest swelled as Soul started scratching a spot that sent shivers through me. I pushed him away, not a word escaped my lips, just slightly elevated, hollowed breathing.

“Ah, sorry, mate.” Soul whispered, knowing he ruined it. Ruined was a strong word to describe this, if anything, I ruined it. I swallowed down whatever was sickening me. “I uh… I figured too soon.” Something in the way he said it, so hushed and unsure of himself, made me reconsider something.

Slowly, I pressed my head against his shoulder again. It was better since it was my own terms. Plus, I felt bad for him. He looked disappointed, but his face lit up in the slightest when I offered it again. He scratched my scalp again, holding me close. “You know, I thought just for one night or day that we would be whole again.” Soul said into the study. “You know, Apollo?”

I jolted at that name and stared at him for a moment. He just chuckled like whatever he just called me wasn’t something I hadn’t heard in a while, as in a long while. Heart never called me Apollo; he thought it was too personal. Hell, I barely call myself Apollo. It wasn’t like I deserved a name like that anyways. “You were always like that. You hate it when people call you Apollo, don’t you?”

I shook my head. Apollo was my name, same with Mind. Both were my name; I suppose one is just more formal than the other. There are discrepancies in the line between formal and informal, but this situation was informal, as to my belief.

Soul smiled at me. Apparently, my answer was satisfactory, he scratched my head a bit more insistently, as sick as he was. I pushed away from him again, it got too much too quickly. It was weird that I accepted it in short bursts. I shouldn’t accept it in general, as it was so much at the same time. “You don’t hate me, do you?” His voice weakly asked. “I mean, it gets hard to believe you don’t when you and Heart just kinda… get me at my worst, y’know?”

“I kneeled in front of Heart and let him shoot me.” I spoke suddenly, I didn’t mean to tell him. “I just let him. I just thought this fighting would be over if I just let it happen.” I hate myself. I hate myself for that, please. Please let Juno Part II happen. Please get me for real this time instead of taking my body out of commission. I wanted to shake my shoulders from the outside and slam my head into the wall until it was stained with whatever I bled.

He didn’t say anything. I just continued silently panicking, trying my best to backpedal. “Wait. I don’t mean that, I’m so sorry, you know how this new mouth is, I don’t mean to say what I say, I just wanted-”

“No, it’s fine.” Soul soothed, holding my hand that I had jolted away within seconds. His touch was burning, way too hot. It was quite hot in here in all actuality. I wanted to turn down the temperature, maybe to 10°C? 4°C? Somewhere around that area. “I see where you’re coming from. I would rather die trying to be whole than just letting the world slip me by without doing a thing to help it.” Soul retreated into himself, holding his knees to his chest. “I know it’s a bit optimistic, and you’re a bit of a pessimist, but I uh… I really think we’re gonna be whole soon. Maybe this next sunset… Wait, I don’t mean it in that way.”

My sacrifice was not in vain then. I wouldn’t even consider this a sacrifice. All that changed is how I represented physically. I’m still the same person underneath all the cold. When I die, I will still be the same person buried. “I am not upset.” I muttered. I had already accepted that my departure was mandatory.

“Good you aren’t hateful.” Soul kept his distance now. He knew better than to try to hug me. “I’m just saying maybe. Will you and Artemis will embrace Harmonia with me? Just to get along? Just this once? I don’t care how long, just long enough for you to realize that being whole feels better than anything. I don’t think we’ll even feel the way we do; we could be a happy, functioning human. Just like the rest of them.”

That weeping silhouette of what we could be appeared in my head, no, the weeping silhouette of what we were to other people. The windows had been shut for a while in a pounding headache. My headache still pounded. “Just like the rest of them.” I repeated for no apparent reason. “The rest of them have three people behind their eyes?”

“No, but the point is to function like them.” Soul explained like it was basic science. It wasn’t basic science, but instead something relatively absurd. “You know? We shouldn’t be crying and dying and stuff. We shouldn’t be having mental breakdowns. We should just be. You remember last time, right? You stared into the distance for a few hours while Heart cried and I was bleeding, it was an entire ordeal that we could do without.”

“I do not remember last time.” It was a lie. I did remember last time and the amount of anguish I was in. I shut down completely. I couldn’t get my body to move at all. Only until I rested was I even remotely functional. It was painful.

“I figured.” Soul fiddled with his fingers. He then pulled a pack of gum from his pocket and offered a stick to me. It smelled distinctly like strawberries, like the kind Heart would buy. He held it out with something gentle and fragile rested on his lips. Just a small smile, not a beam, but something that was barely an echo in the void of hatred we held together. “Want one? I uh… I stole it.”

Would I really harbor stolen gum from this criminal? That was sarcasm, I took the gum. It was sickeningly sweet, but it was an offer I couldn’t refuse. It was weird, as in every taste felt elevated since I was forced to ditch the mechanical body. He also popped a piece in his mouth. The pack was half empty, probably times where he bided his hunger because he was too fixated on work.

Oh. That reminds me that I hadn’t eaten since the first time I got back here. I wasn’t hungry anymore, that half a protein bar soothed me, it seems. I continued chewing. It was weird doing a natural motion. “You should stop stealing things. It isn’t good for you.” I muttered. I was such a hypocrite.

“Heart forgot it even existed. I’ll get him another pack later.” Soul chewed quietly, but I could still hear it in his mouth. He turned his head to me and tilted it slightly. I copied his movement like a shadow. I liked the giggle he made. “You’re so different, it’s cute.” He pointed out. “It’s like this sheen of a person was ripped off and it left the barebones of your personality.”

I wasn’t cute, but also Soul looked happy. His fragile little expression meant the world to me. It was more productive to work in a better mood, it was scientifically proven. I should feel happy because he’s happy and therefore able to do more. Yeah. That’s why I feel nice when he’s happy.

I’m just glad he’s glad.

Log 11 : Spring and a Storm

Soul didn’t leave immediately. Not like I thought he would, just stayed with me for some weird reason. I thought he wanted to go to Heart or something. He never seemed to be interested in what I was doing. But he situated himself to be more comfortable. He then rested his head across my lap.

I felt like I had to run my hand through those curls. I did. It was an odd texture, but it was calming. I twirled a strand of hair around my finger. It was soft and fragile, like a gentle touch could ruin it in an instant. It was so trite. I could be doing something right now, but I am not.

I continued chewing the gum which only made the hunger seem relevant. I would have swallowed the lump in my throat, but swallowing gum would be unhealthy. He looked tired. “I’m just tired, I guess.” Soul muttered quietly. “But y’know. It’s all too big, this world is.” He blew a bubble with the gum he chewed. That was unsanitary, but I won’t mention it. “Like imagine the sky, Mind. Wait, c’mon.”

He sat up and started tugging my hand to stand me up. Then through the living room, then outside, where it was dawn. The stars were still out, but it looked like the sunrise was just about to start. He led me over and onto the roof. It was weird being on the roof, as I had no reason to be here before, but now I see why I was being brought here. The elevation made me feel larger than the things below me, even though I know it isn’t true.

I picked up one of the feathers and twisted it between my fingers. Soul looked to that for a moment and chuckled. “Heart comes up here sometimes.” Soul offhandedly mentioned. He opened the cooler and held out a water to me. It looked cold, the condensation was still layered onto the bottle in small droplets. I took the water and cautiously started drinking it. It was miniscule sips at a time, but it was what it was.

“I can tell. It seems within his ability.” I fiddled with the cold bottle in my hand. It wasn’t that cool compared to my ‘skin’. “Do you come up here with him sometimes?” I asked him. He scratched behind his neck, looking down toward the ground. The hand resembling mine clenched inside his pocket. I narrowed my eyes.

He thought for a moment more, and he looked like he was still a bit confused on his own answer. He gave a long noise of a decision being made, the accent leading out to show an “ehhh” before finally clarifying. “Sometimes. We come up here when he’s sad or in pain. Just something calming he needs aftеr he did something stupid. He would curl up on these blankets and ask for hugs.”

There was that pattern again. Heart prioritizing comfort over healing, like comfort was a need like food and water. “That’s something I noticed. Heart likes comfort.” I didn’t say to what degree he likes comfort. I just said it simply. “Why?”

“Well, who wouldn’t like comfort? You like comfort. I see you try to smile when you receive a compliment. Which, by the way, you’re doing great so far.” I tried not to smile, but I smiled just an itty bit. I didn’t know why, but it felt a bit warmer in my chest. “See? Yeah, you get real happy when I tell you of your good job.”

“But that’s different. Why does Heart like physical comfort and such? Why does he like being told he is cute or pretty? Knowledge of a good job means a status of what I should do, it is feedback of my work and shows me how I could improve and shows me what works.” I was spewing nonsense. His chuckle turned into a laugh, bubbling over and ringing out like a bell choir.

I shuffled from where I sat, I wanted to wrap some semblance of a tail around my leg. A tail would be fun to have, I believe. It would be an indicator for physical needs. Quite logical, I believe. I should stop trying to rationalize this stupid want. Soul watched me pull my knees to my chest a bit. “I mean, I’m not saying you can’t accept it, please, accept it. As for the Heart thing, he just likes hugs. To him, hugs are just like a ‘good job’ to you.”

That made sense. As much as it didn’t make sense, it did. I pinched myself, trying to get myself back on track, but it didn’t really work. I bit my tongue. Soul squeaked a little bit. “Heart… is something. We’re all the same thing in the end, but sometimes we take a different path to get to the same place.” Soul looked to my unknowing expression and shook his head. “I don’t even think you’re there yet. You still have a long way to go, buddy.”

The pinks started forming in the horizon. I started to think about how small I was. I was just a small akaryocyte in a world that was built to be against people like me. I didn’t know anything. I might have known some things, like how Heart and I are destined to be in a loop forever. Maybe that was alright. I was okay being nothing. If I was nothing, there are no expectations of what I should be. For some reason, that was soothing.

I watched Soul rewrap the bandages around his arms and offered the roll to me when he was done. The discarded bandages were shoved into the pocket of his oversized jacket. I stared at the roll of bandages in his hand. “Here. Sometimes I just have ‘em on my wrists for a pressure to have. It’s scientifically proven to be comforting.”

Right. I remember reading a couple of papers on pressure relating to comfort. That is when we got Heart compressive socks and a weighted blanket. He never takes off compressive socks. He got about 20 more pairs. I took the roll and wrapped it tight around my left wrist. I handed it back to him and he smiled. We shook hands.

We watched the sunrise together. He held my hand and dangled our legs over the roof’s ledge, but none of us were scared. The sunrise was prettier than most. It could just because I was watching with Soul, but I also felt a bit satisfied in myself. His thumb ran over my fingers, and I felt the callouses across my hand. I took a deep breath. I finally could breathe after all this time of not being able to.

“Thank you for bringing me here.”

Log 12 : The Bidding

I knocked on Heart’s door and sat by it. I put my back up against the wood and put my knees to my chest. He knocked back. I knocked again. It was this send and receive of knocking, like each pattern had a sort of message the other could communicate, but no. It was just basic knocking. Well, I knocked Morse for “hi” at some point, but I don’t think he noticed.

After about two minutes of this useless knocking, I finally brought myself the courage to speak. “I’m sorry for hurting you.” It was easier to say it because I couldn’t see his face. It felt like I was taking care of him, I believe. Only in small amounts.

“I’m sorry for shooting you.” Heart said from the other end. There was a chirping lilt in his voice, calming despite the usual connotation. Just something from the brother I want to love. “You deserved better.”

“No, I deserved it. After all, I didn’t do much to help the whole.” I would have started picking at my bolts by now, but I didn’t have any bolts. I just started pinching the back of my hand instead. It was basically the same thing. “Plus, I asked you.”

“I shouldn’t have anyways.” Heart was very insistent on keeping me here. I felt something tug in my chest again, it dropped to the floor of the cage that it was trapped in. “I kinda miss you. I mean… you were always kinda cold, but it was nice having you around. You always knew what to do, and I dunno anything. You were always so calm, and I admire that.”

I wanted to say something. My tongue felt too fat in my pathetic mouth to say such a reply. I bit my tongue for a moment. My vision started blurring at the edges, wet and hazy. I held a hand over my eye, trying to get myself to stop. “I liked the way you were open.” I tried to keep my voice as flat as possible. “People always knew what was wrong. It was efficient.” That compliment sucked.

“Thanks…?” Heart said it like it was a question. He slid a feather under the door for some reason. It was pristinely pearl in color. I held it between two fingers for a moment, twisting it about and inspecting it. It looked like a dove’s feather, more particularly a mourning dove’s feather. “I also kinda found your robot stuff kinda cool.”

“Your bird-like traits would be an interesting study.” I would have gone into biology if I was my own person. I liked seeing stuff work like it should without machines or gears. It is just a series of microorganisms working to form a larger one. That was interesting, especially genes and genetics.

He giggled from the other end. It lasted about five seconds before he finally collected himself, but still trying to withhold from bursting out again. “What do you mean?!” Oh. My compliment did not land like I thought it would. I struggled with my blurry vision, wiping at my eyes to clear it up. “No, no, don’t clarify, I think what I thought is nicer and funnier.”

It was easy to talk to him when I couldn’t see his face. It was easier to talk to anyone faceless. No one can see the expressions I make on the other end, and I can’t see theirs. “It was supposed to be a compliment.”

“I can tell.” Heart huffed brightly. I heard wings flapping on the other end. It was one of his common stims, along with fiddling with those beaded bracelets he liked making, chewing on his hoodie strings, twirling his hair, sometimes he paced. Sometimes I paced. “You’re not very good at compliments.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re not very good at math.” I snapped back. I shouldn’t be this quick to anger, but that ticked me off for some reason.

“Yeah, I hate math. I’m more of an English guy, you know this.” Yes, that was right. Heart loved English as much as I liked math. Maybe he liked English more, as he was always writing and giggling about random book characters like a teenage girl.

I remembered the bookshelf in his room. I remember the notes in all the margins. I only looked through the first in the series, so something might have changed in his opinion. “Yes. About that Twilight series…?”

“Edward was so gay-coded, and I hate that they went with something else.” Heart grumbled. I had no idea what he meant, but okay. I nodded my head even though he had two reasons he couldn’t see. “I mean, c’mon.”

I have never read Twilight, I always thought it was a stupid romance novel, and that it wasn’t my cup of tea. I seemed to make a correct assumption. He yawned from the other end of the door. Poor thing was probably tired to the bone. “You should probably go to bed.” I suggested naturally.

“I can’t.” He responded in a fearful peep. “My heart hurts.” I deducted it immediately as heartache. He gets heartache like I do headaches, hell, my head pounded. It was always a weird cause for his heartache. Sometimes, it was an old friend, sometimes anxiety or depression, sometimes something completely small to me, but it felt like a mountain to him. What a child.

“Why are you in heartache?” I asked to feign a polite mask. I’m only faking, even though my headache relented just a bit when I asked.

“I’m thinking.” Heart whispered from the other end. His voice was barely audible, considering it was muffled by the door. I tilted my head and turned my ear to the door to hear him better. “Y’know, I’m thinking about stuff.”

“Why is it causing heartache?” I suddenly realized I sounded pushy in my words. I hated that. “Only answer if I am allowed to pry.” I covered quickly. I didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable, for some stupid reason.

“They’re back.” This was the quietest sentence he had spoken on the other side of the door. I knocked a couple times for him, and he responded with his own. We knocked on the door again, no blatant messages except one from Heart’s end. SOS. I gently turned the doorknob to a lack of his disapproval. I went in Heart’s room and helped him to his bed.

I didn’t know what he meant by ‘they’re back’, but I did know that I overthink too. I sat with him in his bed for a short amount of time. He didn’t try to hug me or lean into me, which was quite nice of him to respect my space like that. “I overthink as well.” I said, even though it was likely unwarranted.

“Yeah. We’re the thinkers.” He said like a small child. I wrapped a blanket around the angel’s shoulders. He seemed to relax into that blanket of his. I don’t know why, maybe it was the texture was fluffy like his wings? I started preening him and he cooed.

“You’re a big thinker.” I played along with him. I might as well give him some credit for making it this far. If I felt this much, I would probably make sure I didn’t. Instead, he cries and wails, and it gets annoying, but in the end, we share the same skin behind those eyes. “You know…”

“You’re just like me.” We said in unison. Heart laughed, putting his head in his hands to hide the big smile on his face. I reached for his hand. It was weird when we touched. Just for a second, I could see the world through someone else’s eyes. I moved the right arm, and he moved the left. The left immediately went to run through our hair, a quiet chuckle escaping before I saw the angel’s face again.

Soul’s voice immediately cheered from the other room. He sounded loud in celebration, already barreling up the stairs with excitement. “OH MY GOD, HOLY HELL, WE WERE THERE, THAT WAS IT!” I covered Heart’s ears out of instinct and his headwings wrapped around my arms. What an adorable little thing.

Wait. If Soul was laughing about and cheering, how what that brief contrast of a minute spent? The minute where I only controlled the right side of someone’s body in a room unlike Heart’s or my own? Oh. I could die happy.

I gently nudged the angel beside me. “Heart. It’s harmony.”

Log 13 : Light

Nothing changes from cacophony to concord, really. Or at least we’re on the road to concord. We’re close. We’re really, really, really close. We were whole for a minute. A minute of harmony good enough for us both to see what was really happening without the dissociation.

I remember the dimly lit room. The lights were down, and the blackout curtains were shut tight. It was like a clamp was on the blackout curtains. I saw our phone filled with notifications that weren’t answered on the other side of the room. It was much drearier than what I thought.

It lacked decoration, there were no posters on the walls, no patterned blankets, it was like a blank slate. I tried to recollect everything from our short time together in one head, but that was about it. I drew it once, then twice, then thrice. Soon enough, sketches of empty rooms filled my notebook made for journaling or calculations. I should stop that. I set the notebook down.

I picked up the notebook again. I remember the scarred and calloused hands. The cuticles were bleeding and the nails were bitten. They weren’t dainty hands, a bit larger, but they lacked warmth. They were pale and lacked the flush Heart had on his fingers. It was like these hands were already dead. They shook. I drew the shaking hands in my notebook. The lined paper wasn’t meant for this. It was meant for words, not pictures. I wasn’t a bored high school teenager in their science class.

I drew the silver ring the hands wore, just a band of grey that greened the pinky. I remember the stained sapphire sleeves. I drew that too. It was a comfortable sweater; I remember how it felt on my arms. It was calming, possibly weighted, considering how well weight or pressure does to soothe the body. I reached out my right hand like how I remembered holding it out when we were one. I saw the bare hand. The left hand was wrapped in bandages, like mine and like Hearts two wrapped hands.

I then started sketching the wrapped hand, using mine for reference. The fingers reached to nothing in general, then went to my scalp, where they gripped at where curls could be. I don’t know if I had curls, I couldn’t feel myself. I think I had curls. We had curls as a triad, I remember being whole and having curls, so I had to have curls. What would we have looked like?

I drew the scene I saw once. I remember the knees being pulled close to the chest and wet cheeks. I remember our voice being broken and it hurt to speak. The door to the room was locked, I saw the tab twisted, there was also a towel under the door and a chair blocking it. I remember how much it stung. Everywhere stung. Our throat, inside and out, our wrists, our tongue, our head pounded, lungs exploding, everything felt like it got thrown underwater then fished back up and chopped for sushi. I remember the vision spotting before we split again.

What happened? In that small minute we had of being us, everything had engraved itself into my memory. The world we had at that moment for just a minute. I remember the dark room not made for memories to last forever but made for memories to potentially die. I turned the light on in my room. It was blinding, but I didn’t want to fall like him. I picked at the bandage surrounding my left wrist. It felt comfortable.

I listened to my surroundings for a moment. It was dead quiet, like how it was in the room we were in as whole. I didn’t like that. Well, whole’s room had sobbing. Now I remember, we were sobbing, struggling to be barely coherent. I felt a hole appear in my chest, like my heart dropped again. It felt hollow inside, like that moment where I had a heart shoved something inside then ripped it out.

It was still quiet. Too quiet. I started pacing to hear shoes click against the floor, but I moved as quiet as a shadow. Right. That situation… the lack of a body and everything. Right. I remembered now. I continued pacing, though. At least I can still walk. I didn’t stand up as whole. I bit my lip and chewed on the skin. It was a destructive tic, but it was something that came naturally.

It felt warm. The room was warm, but my body felt cold, much like our time as whole. I continued pacing, flipping through drawings after drawings of dark rooms, bandaged hands, stained sleeves, locked doors. It all felt like a memory I couldn’t grapple but could at the same time. I continued pacing, clicking my pen in a repetitive motion. It sounded nice and precise. Click, click, click.

What would that mean for all of us, since we are whole now? Click. Would it mean we would be happier? Click. We might survive this split. Click. That would make them more than happy. Click. What about me? I stopped clicking the pen. I then, admittedly, very awkwardly, put my pants in my lap and stood still. What do I think about concord?

I always say what other people might believe, but never ask myself these things. I believe concord is nice. I like concord, we’re productive and mood levels increase by over 200%. It’s a win-win for us, where Heart gets to be happy and experience stuff outside the headspace and our body as whole isn’t rotting in his room, which makes me slightly happier. Hm. Am I happy?

I stared into the distance for a moment. I saw the afternoon light blare through the windows. It looked like it was getting close to sunset. I heard some people talk outside my door. I tuned into the conversation.

“You tell Mind yet? I’m sure It would be excited to hear, right?” “It can probably draw the conclusion.” “I’M SO EXCITED!” “Relax! You’re going to give yourself a heart attack.” There was a thud on the floor. “TOO LATE.” “OH MY GOD, HEART, ARE YOU OKAY!?” “Yeah.” There was a knock on my door. “Mind… let us in.” “It’s probably sleeping, Heart.” “IT SLEEPS?!”

“Enter.” I commanded, and watched them stumble in, Heart was smiling, Soul was also smiling. I wasn’t, but I wanted to. “Hi, Heart, Hi Soul.”

“Hi, Mind! C’mon, the sunset’s about to start. Do you wanna watch with us?” Heart held out his hand and tilted his head at me. I didn’t know what to think. Was he really asking me of all people? The one who struggles with small things? I looked to his open expression and Soul’s.

I took his hand.

Log 14 : Welcome to Tally Hall

Heart laid on the blanket and Soul pulled out a Monster from the cooler. They did it so naturally, like they did it every evening. Well, because they did. It gave Heart something to look forward to, a time of comfort and a pretty sight. I feel like I’m invading that.

I bit my tongue, crossing my arms and hiding into whatever would take me back. I almost slipped off the roof until Soul gripped my arm. He saw my surprised expression akin to a deer and laughed. It was quiet, but there, nonetheless. “Woah there, Mind. Careful!” His voice cheered. “I don’t want you falling off the roof, ‘kay? It hurts!”

His expression was quite joyful. I couldn’t smile, but I wanted to. I wanted to love them so much. I ran over to hug Soul. I don’t know why, and I might never know why, but he was warm. He was so warm, I compared him to a radiator mentally. His arms wrapped around me, and I was officially being hugged.

I still don’t see why Heart likes it. Might he like the context instead of the actual thing? Most contexts where he gets hugs are comfortable or cozy moments, hell it could even be his ‘comfort’ part in the cycle. Wait. This stupid cycle, hurt, comfort, heal, calamity, cacophony, concord. Is this the part where we’re alright? Heart looks happy, Soul looks happy. Do I look happy? I forced a bit of a smile, then realized it was forced. My lips returned to their neutral position.

I didn’t move from the hug, and I was only pulled off when it turned awkward. I never really had that sort of concept of awkwardness. Things were the way they were. The sky started turning pinkish and Soul found his seat next to Heart, also laying down on the roof. I preferred to stand. We looked up at the sky, then Heart called my name. “Mind! Sit down with us. C’mon.” I was tugged to their level, now on my knees to watch something I don’t take the time to appreciate.

The pinks and oranges filled the horizon as the clouds turned purple and swirled above us. The blue stayed persistent until inevitably it disappeared for the short time being. The sun barely shined behind the clouds, but eventually, the clouds parted barely enough for us to view the sunset. It was like the world catered to our want like a parent going ‘just this once’.

And when the sun lowered itself below the horizon, the darkness of the night crawled above the pinks and oranges. The midnight blues and purples turned the sky darker, allowing for the moon to outshine the sun and billions of other stars and constellations in the night. The sunset was unfortunately over. But Heart stood up and chirped brightly. “Mind. Mind.”

He gripped my hand and pulled me up, trilling and flapping like the excitement from our wholeness still coursed through him. I admit, I was a bit excited too. “Yes, Heart? What is it?” I watched him giggle and rest his head on my shoulder before pulling back for a moment, smiling warmly.

I didn’t know what he was up to, and I was a bit nervous as to what it was. He was so giddy; he was never this giddy. He usually hid in his room. Now, he was like a small child. I liked that, oddly enough. I liked his wonder. “Can we dance, PLEASE?! I’ve been learning!”

Dancing? What an illogical thing. Hell, watching the sunset with them was illogical. I did that anyways. Only this once. “Fine. I’ll dance with you.” We took each other’s hand, fingers carding between. My hand hovered above his torso for a moment. It shook in silent anxiety, something I could never truly control. I took a deep breath.

I took his shoulder, and he took my waist instead. He was right, he was a good dancer, as horrible as I was. We were learning, I assume. It felt lighter, more carefree. I liked this. He led quite beautifully.

Epi-Log-ue | See what I did there?

We were in the dark room again. We rubbed our head, disoriented, but one. We looked to the locked door and the blackout curtains. The light was out, casting the room in nearly complete darkness. Our stomach begged for something to eat. Every part of us stung. Our left hand raised to our throat, but our right stopped it. It fiddled with its silver ring.

We stood up, vertigo hitting instantly, but we must keep going. We stumbled to the desk, unplugging our phone and shoving it into our pocket. We could check the bursting notifications after we get cleaned and patched up. We went to the bathroom. That was when we finally saw ourself again.

The eyebags were extreme under the amber eyes, large enough to carry groceries, it seemed. Our face naturally rested in a small frown, eyes half-lidded and tired. We opened the mirror like we knew this place by heart and grabbed the first aid kit. Sitting on the sink, we started rewrapping our arms. It smelled distinctly like iron, and it was slightly sticky to the touch. We covered it.

Then we looked to our drowsy self again. Our eyes were slightly red, and our tears stained our cheeks. We were crying, weren’t we? It’s okay, whole. We pulled out our phone out, scrolling through the dozens of missed messages that seemed to have stopped yesterday. Our left hand decided to take a photo. It was a selfie from above, our head barely moved turn there in time with a small smile. It was then posted with no caption. I guess we made our presence known. I guess we set in stone the fact that we were alive.

Friends started blowing up our messages only a minute or two later. They were asking where we were and if we were okay. We didn’t answer them, just shoved our phone back in our pocket. Heart thought it was a me problem. It wasn’t really. It was an us problem that I won’t deal with right now. We unlocked the door to our room and stepped out, the light outside our room blinding. The electricity bill would be crazy.

We walked through the mostly unfamiliar living room, running our hand along the dust covered coffee table and rubbing it between our fingers. It must have been neglected for a bit. We raided our pantry, almost nothing inside except a couple packets of ramen. We poured hot water into the cup and set it in the microwave.

Something about the hum made our Heart warm. For some reason, we wanted to coo. We shoved the feeling down, however. It sounded oddly like my old mechanical body. Soul shoved that thought down as well. We waited a bit more, scrolling through some of the messages that were sent. We replied “K” to one, which was progress. Eventually, we could give long winded responses. Our mouth watered at the smell of buttered noodles.

We started shaking the flavor packet before the microwave beeped. We were feral over the struggle meal. We beat the seasoning in it into oblivion, violently stirring it up with a fork. Honestly, I don’t think we cared that forks weren’t very suitable for ramen. We were hungry, and the fork was there.

We were still scarfing it down when we checked over the news and date. Nothing new, but we suppose we were gone for a little under a week. That was a long while. No wonder why people were worried. Yes, we were just in a constant throbbing pain. Our head hurt again. We continued eating the ramen, hoping it would pass when we take care of ourself. Most of it was downed before we tossed the container in the trash. We then got ourself a glass of water.

The headache slowly went away. We were also breathing relatively fresh air for the first time in… er… we don’t know. We almost automatically reached for the small box in our jacket pocket. It was a box of Winfield’s, nearly empty, we looked at them for a moment before throwing them in the trash. It rustled quietly. Half empty bottles were also poured in the sink and thrown out.

We had to get rid of a lot of things in the house, most were used, or there was hardly anything of the product left. It felt better to have it all tied up. We felt a bit lighter knowing the vessel would be healthier because of this small change.

We were in our pajamas. Just basic shorts and a Tally Hall t-shirt. It was turning into winter, why were we in summer wear? Heart laughed internally, threatening us to give out a chuckle. We did. We tried to shut Heart up as we went to change into street clothes. It was a hoodie and jeans. Heart chose it, mostly because it got him to be quiet.

Then we went through the unfamiliar home again like we knew it. It was a weird feeling of déjà vu. Through the living room-kitchen combo. We stood on the ‘go away’ mat, it was a joke product we bought one time that said ‘welcome’ when you went in and ‘go away’ when you were out. We looked to the front door; the doorknob mocked us for a moment.

We checked our phone once more, a couple of friends asked to hang out at the mall. The message was short and to the point. We bit our tongue for a moment, the thought lingered for a moment in my head. I pressed my hand to the doorknob. I texted them back.

“I’ll be there in 15.”