thingpuncher | @glavesworn.

what

Nyx stares at his phone, absolutely baffled.

what's gotten into u

is this more knife twist bullshit
i get thats how u get off but im not into it anymore
get fucked

ha ha
that's not fucking funny m
did somebody take a piss in ur champagne at the party or something

oh like calling me a freak was hilarious
are you drunk
is that what this is

There's a solid five minute gap between texts as Nyx stares at Midnighter's message, trying to make sense of the words. Nope, still nothing.

no
are you?

seriously midnighter if this is a joke
im not laughing

Another pause.

ur not a freak
what the fuck

what changed your mind
me not being a fucking doormat anymore

Edited (icon...........) 2018-01-30 03:07 (UTC)

midnighter what the fuck is going on

Fuck, he's had enough of them talking around each other. If Midnighter is going to keep on hurling crazy fucking accusations at him, then he might as well do it to his face.

my apartment
fifteen minutes.

Midnighter meant it when he said he didn't want to see him again. He also does, though-- the series of texts where Nyx played dumb were enough to make Midnighter want to sock him in the jaw. He barely touched him last time.

In fifteen minutes, Midnighter appears in a glow of orange, stepping into a dingy apartment only recently familiar. He has the kingsglaive robes folded under his arm-- he's back to a T-shirt and jeans-- and he'd planned on throwing them in Nyx's fucking face.

But being here, seeing Nyx, knowing the stupid reverence he has for that uniform... Midnighter sets the clothes down carefully on a nearby table. He's still in love with him, otherwise everything wouldn't hurt. "What's your excuse now, amnesia? It's not contagious, you know."

As for Nyx, he's still in uniform, having just hurried back to his apartment from the Citadel. Midnighter catches him just pulling off his second boot, and the expression on his face makes something in his chest tighten. Nyx doesn't think he's ever seen him look this way before-- sharp and borderline savage, ready to throw down.

At least, Nyx has never had that expression directed at him before. He rises to meet Midnighter, to meet that fierce glare with his own hard gaze.

"No, we're not fucking doing this again. Not until you tell me what the hell happened back there."

He's not as bright and beautiful, just Nyx, the man he's used to and loves and wishes he didn't. It's almost a relief.

"Are you honestly telling me you forgot luring me away to fucking- mock me?" He wishes like fuck his voice didn't break there. His teeth grind against each other. "And I'm the fucking freak?"

"What--?!"

The air escapes his lungs in a sharp exhale, and there's no disguising the look of utter confusion, shock on his face. He has no idea what Midnighter's angry about, but the conviction on his face, the anger, the waver in his voice-- had he done something and forgotten, just like Midnighter was suggesting? Amnesia? A fit of madness? That's all bullshit, but even so-- Nyx sputters, scrambling for words.

"I didn't... I was with the delegation all evening. I barely saw you. What are you fucking talking about?"

And almost an indignant afterthought, brow creased, still trying to puzzle things through--

"I'd never call you a freak." Anger hasn't quite caught up yet, and his tone is plaintive. Whatever happened, shouldn't Midnighter know that?

It's so earnest, that lapse in confidence, the way his skin doesn't seem to glow with effusive warmth, the way he looks kind of sweaty under the heavy uniform, his tired face-- Nyx. Somehow, he feels like he missed this. Something clicks in the back of Midnighter's mind, but he isn't sure what.

"This is like last time," he murmurs, hesitant to shake off his anger, but having difficulty keeping it in the face of him. "You were so fucking sweet, and then-" he looks up harshly, gesturing sharply at nothing. He doesn't have words for it.

They're in another dimension. This occurs to Midnighter far too slowly. "Does- does this sort of shit happen, here? People lose time, or... hallucinate?" He doesn't like the idea that he's at fault, but something is wrong here. The look of confusion on Nyx's face is just too genuine.

So fucking sweet, and then... what? Nyx isn't sure he wants Midnighter to finish that sentence, and yet there's still that pang of morbid curiosity. What the fuck did the Nyx in Midnighter's memory do or say to rattle him so badly? Sure, Nyx himself would never-- call him names and shit, but that couldn't have been the worst of it.

"...No. I've never heard of anything like that." Not more than Nyx's usual lapses into bad memories and old pain, at least, but even that's... not what Midnighter is describing. Not even close.

"Think I'd hear about it if somebody spiked the punch bowl. Or if you went and drank the whole bar dry. Maybe some bad shrimp?" A joke, sort of. Nyx isn't sure if they're back in joking territory yet, but this is all... unmapped, uncharted emotional and conversational ground for him, and he a blind man fumbling around on hands and knees, trying to feel out the shape of things and not coming up with a single fucking clue.

That little quip leaves him out of things to say in the face of Midnighter's confusion and fury, so Nyx instead takes a ginger step forward, then another to gingerly rest the back of his hand against Midnighter's forehead, finding it easier to do something than to keep fumbling for more words. Once he'd run a high fever and dreamed he was a bridge, so hey... can the computer brain overheat?

"You were acting all weird earlier. Did something happen?" Nyx knows shitall about Midnighter's world, but maybe it had something to do with whatever he was up to before the assignment. "What, uh... what did it, what did I say?"

It's a completely alien gesture, one Midnighter only knows the origins of because he's seen it on television. It's heartbreakingly sweet, Nyx thinking he can get fevers. Midnighter leans into the touch despite himself, still expecting Nyx to turn cold at any moment, grinning and mocking him.

But he doesn't. He asks after Midnighter, concerned and friendly, the man Midnighter's been missing since that stupid festival. And maybe that was a hallucination, too. Maybe he's losing his fucking mind. The computer could be breaking down-- maybe it wasn't meant to put up with this amount of interdimensional travel. He'll have to call Apollo to put him out of his mystery-- Apollo would understand. Midnighter's too dangerous to be hallucinating like this.

Midnighter closes his eyes, and recites from perfect memory-- "'Should I say instead how much I missed you? But we both know that would be a lie', shit like that. Look- I saw security cameras. There's gotta be tapes. And if I'm just... talking to myself, I'll get outta your hair." But he needs to know.

"Fuck that. Whatever this is, we'll figure it out together." No hesitation, even as he's raising a hand to tap at his earpiece, turning aside to speak into it.

"Hey Pelna, got a favor to ask. Again, yeah. Sorry, next round's on me. Yeah. Again. Look, I need you to pull all the tapes from that party on the roof. All of them, but don't let anyone know. Yeah, there's something wr-- another one of my hunches, sure. Just let me know when you've got access."

The first hurtle crossed, Nyx clicks off the connection and turns back to face Midnighter, expression grim and focused as his mind turns Midnighter's words over and over again in his head. How much I missed you... A strangely personal jab. A version of him that had called Midnighter a freak, told him that he didn't... miss him?

"How'd that even come up anyway?"

And he's just... forgiven, so quickly, without hesitation. Midnighter's breath catches in his throat. He doesn't deserve this. Especially after... whatever just happened, he isn't sure. If his computer is malfunctioning, it's the end of him. It's the most logical explanation, though; nothing else makes sense.

It might mean he's dying.

Luckily, Midnighter is designed to be self-sufficient; he can't linger on the thought of mortality too long.

"You came by at the gala." You were so beautiful. "Asked why I was angry with you. Said some real sweet shit, and asked me to meet you by the servant's quarters when I didn't roll over."

Is it possible Nyx never really said anything worth being angry over in the first place? How long has Midnighter been hallucinating? Anger and fear mix in the pit of his stomach.

"I didn't see much of you at the gala," Nyx replies slowly, "I didn't leave my post with the delegation." So there already, a contradiction. But it's hard for him to imagine Midnighter, of all people, just-- dreaming up something to get outraged about. Let alone some elaborate scene where Nyx just tears him to shreds.

Asked why I was angry with you. So does that mean he was already mad? What for?

"Is that the first time this has... fuck." Nyx rubs at his temples, trying to focus. "How the hell would you know, right? First time you've heard me say fucked up shit? Or anyone else?" What even qualifies as out of the ordinary here? Astrals take it all, Pelna should be sending over the footage soon enough, and they can figure things out from there.

"I said that," Midnighter shakes his head. "I was surprised you'd leave your post." He takes a step back, leaning against one of Nyx's rickety chairs, and rubs at the bridge of his nose.

"I don't know. I'm a prototype, remember? I could be malfunctioning." As ever, whenever he's in poor spirits, Midnighter begins to talk like he isn't human. Still, He's not sure why he'd malfunction this way. A glitch in his hardware should cause a seizure, not a lovelorn hallucination.

"Fuck," is the only response Nyx can manage, heartfelt and emphatic as he leans heavily back against the kitchen counter. Between their options-- some sort of blackout fit on Nyx's end, hallucinations, fucking ghosts, Midnighter malfunctioning does seem like their best bet.

But that's-- isn't that a big fucking deal? Nyx doesn't know what to say or do, whether he can help in any way, as much as he wants to. Fucking useless, not like he knows shit about computers or hardware, let along the complex workings of whatever makes up Midnighter. Not like he knows how to offer comfort, reassurance in the face of this. Futility beats its own rhythm in his ears even as he reaches out to set a tentative hand on Midnighter's shoulder.

"Anything you need, alright? Anything at all."

He hates this.

The beep of his email is a welcome distraction. Nyx opens the attachments included in Pelna's message and a video pops up. Waving Midnighter over, he hits play.

There's a strange graininess to the video, black spots appearing and disappearing, but Midnighter is clearly visible standing next to one of the long tables. More black spots, static crackling, blurring the feed, and then--

Nyx. Sauntering up to stand beside him.

"What the hell..." Shocked beyond words, his voice is all breath.

The video is too distant to capture any sound, but the body language between the two of them is evident-- Nyx, all smiles and charm, Midnighter closed off and angry, arms crossed. The figure that is and isn't Nyx leans in close, intimate, and then--

--bzzt. The feed dies. Try as Nyx might, he can't seem to bring it back up again. His fingers stumble over the keys, and he can't-- can't process what he just saw.

"You said... he-- fuck, I lured you out. Servant's quarters. When?"

But this is just more data. A welcome distraction from his own self-pity, or the incredible way his heart lurches when Nyx reaches out to him with concern. It's not love, he knows that now, but it's... kindness. Midnighter should learn to be happy with that.

The video is quickly analyzed, and Midnighter picks up a few oddities. Watching it from a detached perspective, Midnighter notes a slight difference in posture, a neatness and perfection the man next to him lacks. It's... odd. What's odder is- "Are the palace feeds always so low quality?" This is royalty they're talking about. Shouldn't they be able to shell out for better cameras?

But that's not the point. Midnighter answers the question-- "Hour and a half later. Right inside back entry."

"No, they shouldn't be. There's gotta be some kind of interference."

With the second video, the distortion is a little worse, the view darker, and black splotches team at the edges of the screen, which occasionally shorts out with bursts of static. One other difference: this one comes with audio.

It's quiet, even after he turns the volume all the way up, the sound tinny through the speakers. But it's indisputably, inarguably Nyx's voice.

Not a chance, with a freak like you.

He feels a little sick just hearing it. No fucking wonder Midnighter had been pissed as hell at him. Other than that, he's not... not sure what they're talking about, exactly, something about the truth of how someone-- Midnighter?-- feels, truth and lies, and something more--

And there at the end, as the light of the Door disappears and leaves Nyx's form slumped against the wall, an arm crossed over his side. For a moment, pale green eyes flick upward, seeming to lock onto the camera before his knees buckle and he doubles over in gales of laughter.

Even now, Midnighter feels a reaction from those words. The laughter compounds it, and Midnighter slowly inches back from Nyx on instinct. The data he has-- odd distortions in the film, the changed body language, the oddity of Nyx's behavior and his own lack of memory-- don't point to anything conclusive.

Midnighter's throat is tight through it all, and he forces himself to relax.

"You- you don't remember any of that?"

"Think I'd remember acting like a huge shitstain to you, yeah." Nyx drops the phone onto the table with a clatter, running a hand through his hair. The laughter at the end had left him in cold sweat, not the least of which because it was his voice taking awful, sick glee at Midnighter's pain.

"Fuck. If you still want to punch me a good one or five times, go right ahead. You've earned it."

Hell, he might even feel better if Midnighter took him up on the offer. This wasn't him, Nyx is sure of that. But that doesn't mean he was unmoved by seeing... whatever the fuck that was. What kind of comfort could he possibly offer Midnighter, after some asshole wearing his face and his skin had torn into him like that?

"At least we know it's not some issue with your computer. And it's not--" Nyx hesitates, trying to find the words. This should be obvious, shouldn't it? And yet... "That's not what I think. At all."

A muscle twitches in Midnighter's jaw; he doesn't quite believe Nyx, not fully, not after hearing those words again. Nyx doesn't enjoy his pain, but that doesn't mean he gives a shit beyond, well, what Midnighter already knows. He's... a friend. That's all.

Midnighter might wait a moment too long before answering.

"Where were you all night?" Midnighter looks up. "Cross reference that with the videos of me. I wanna make sure you're not losing time."

Shapeshifting is a possibility, but Midnighter can't imagine why.

Nyx isn't sure what he's expecting-- maybe some kind of acknowledgment of his words, confirmation that this is all bullshit, that they'd figure it out together. But Midnighter just brushes them aside, moving on, and Nyx is left feeling strangely hollow, even as he pulls up the two feeds, finally plugging his phone into the ancient and dusty monitor sitting on his bedstand.

Two videos, side by side. Midnighter making the rounds, standing next to the table as he's accosted by Nyx, later leaving for the servant's quarters. In the other, Nyx barely moves from his position, except once to interfere with a heated argument, and another time to accompany the princess, stiffly offering his arm as she beams up at him, his expression softening into a grin and a wink as he turns to reply, stooping slightly to her height.

Nyx would be lying if he said he didn't heave a slight sigh of relief at that.

"...So we've ruled out the obvious. What's next?"

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