#me realizing nobody gives a fuck about the difference between ‘useless’ and ‘worthless’: oh no
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the scottish play
summary: some things are better left unknown.
word count: ~3.1k
-> warnings: spoilers for liyue story quest, reader dies (again). blood mention. zhongli probably cries off camera
taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @atsukawolfcat || @thehoneymushroomhealer || @imyme20 || @bittersweetorpheus || @vampirecatsw || @willburzone || @some-mildly-happy-human || @yourlocaldrugdealerbutfancy || @inmyprinceerafr || @depressed-bitchy-demon || @kithewanderingme
<< first part || < masterlist >
you should have known better than to trust liyue.
a rock hits your shoulder, kicked down from the ledge behind you, and the abyss mage in front of you shouts a cry lost amidst the hilichurls’-
“YA!“
clubs are grabbed and shields are raised, the electro shooter taking your wrist roughly and pulling you away. you hear human voices behind you, calls to get them! and that’s the missing artifact! nearly drowned under your heartbeat in your ears. the electro hilichurl pushes you behind the grenadier before grabbing its crossbow, hastily beginning to load it. in the camp, you can see an archer up on the stone ledge—the same one you entered from—as well as four other millelith guards in the camp itself. an electro-infused bolt skims the cheek of one, a spear narrowly blocking the swing of a club, two have to ditch their weapons and roll to dodge to mitachurl’s charge-
the grenadier’s calloused hands pull you out of the way of an arrow, one that lands in the sand and quivers with force. the hilichurl pushes you away, waving its hands for you to run.
if you’d have paid more attention to the fight, you’d have noticed the hilichurls were fighting defensively to give you time.
you turn on worn, hole-ridden shoes, doing your best to take in air as you run down the path. this area of liyue is sparse, with no weaving pathways to hide in or trees to cover you. there’s nothing for the earth to shelter you with, and other than bringing more dust into the air around the archer, it’s just as helpless as you are.
there’s a building set besides a crack in the huge wall besides the path, a fork approaching quicker than you’d like. the path continues forward, toward trees, but it’s a long way to the small forest..
you turn. an arrow bounces off the stone just behind you as you do.
immediately you recognize your mistake, spotting first spiked walls, then rippling red banners, then the archer towers they’re attached to and the guards climbing down the ladders on them.
the crack you saw seems to open into a larger area, with trees you’ve never seen before, so you take the risk that the millelith can’t climb all that quickly with their armor and keep running. it’s not like you would have survived turning back anyways; they’re the ones with the archer towers.
a guard makes it to the ground just as you pass, throwing aside his spear and running after you. an arm loops around your waist, then another over your arms as you fall.
the weight of the guard on top of you knocks out the air from your lungs, leaving you dazed. he quickly gets off and pulls at the arm with the ring on it as you desperately try not to breathe in dirt.
you fuss, trying first to close your hand into a fist then hitting at his with your other. it works, the ring falling to the dirt, and though you try to follow it with your eyes you quickly lose it in the light of the sun.
the guard starts to wipe desperately at the dirt and you take the opportunity to run into the crack, pulling a random bundle of things you hope are medical supplies off a nearby cart as you do. the guards shout at you, but you keep running, taking a set of confusing turns before coming across a small campsite. there are tents and rudimentary walls, but you decide to shove yourself into the space between a stack of crates and a wall, holding your breath.
footsteps thunder by, slowing to a stop not too far from where you’re hidden. you clutch at and attempt to cover the white in your arms, turning it towards the wall as far as you can without moving the crates. you don’t dare move to peek between the boxes, simply sitting in your little corner and hoping beyond reason that they won’t think to search in the most obvious area.
“what?”
“where’d they go?”
“find them!”
your heart thuds in your chest and you have to fight to keep your breathing quiet, pressing yourself further against the wall as the guards search the small camp.
the floor tips and spins beneath you, the world blurry and hazed from dehydration and exhaustion, but you stay hidden as boots stomp by again, listening to the irritated words from one of the guards as they pass.
“we must report this to the qixing.”
zhongli walks through liyue harbor, one hand holding a folder and the other one clenched in a fist. he can feel the stares of people as he passes, the new whispers on their tongues, and he sets his jaw, picking up the pace.
he’s used to the stares. people pointed him out as odd, eccentric, the funeral consultant that everybody knew yet didn’t know why, or where he was from. the stranger that somehow knew alarming amounts of liyuen history, the new worker at the parlor who puts up with the director, the one with a vision from liyue yet seems adept at using it nonetheless.
stares are regular, until they’re not.
the empty space on his lower back where his faux-vision once was affects him more than it should. maybe because it feels like a real one, now, since he hasn’t been able to manipulate geo ever since it turned against him. the lack of pressure, the missing weight of glass and gold, no matter how papery the front it put up, bothered him. it wasn’t real in any sense, it was utterly worthless, it didn’t glow or have any connection at all, and yet.. it still refused to obey him. touching it felt like he was cutting his palm open over and over despite the lack of physical injuries, and when he tried to have hu tao reattach it to (a new) chain, it only stabbed at him through his clothes.
it was fake. it shouldn’t be possible.
but he couldn’t tell anybody of his plight.
nodding a greeting at the blacksmith, he continued his journey across the harbor.
“-consultant for-?”
“-where’s his-?“
“-did his vision-?”
questions flew in the space between people, gossip lighting the way between lampposts. he knew they were watching. he didn’t know why it unnerved him so much.
zhongli kept walking.
two millelith guards are standing duty near the bridge, and he listens in on their conversation as he passes.
“-hear any updates on the situation?”
“no, only that they’ve gotten to the chasm. it’s to dangerous for the qixing to send-..”
hm..
he files the information away.
zhongli openes the door to the parlor, nodding in greeting at ferrylady. perhaps he should pay the chasm a visit on the chance that the guards were speaking of what he hoped they were.
you wouldn’t be too much of a challenge—he is still, after all, morax, the god of war and contracts. he’d signed on the dotted line when he took his first breath, signed to be the warrior of his god and to stand by their side for as long as he lived. it was a deal he could easily uphold, and one he’s not going to fail.
he’s served his god all his life, and he refuses to allow such disgrace to befall their name.
perhaps if he’s lucky, he’ll be the one allowed to slay you…
he shakes the thoughts of bloodshed from his mind, knocking twice on a door marked ‘director’. when he hears permission to enter, he wastes no time in pushing it open.
hu tao’s eyes brighten when she see’s it’s him, the pen in her hand twirling around her fingers in her excitement. “zhongli! you’re back quickly.”
he nods, stepping forward to hand her the folder. “the negotiations went easier than anticipated.”
her eyes suddenly narrow, hee hand retracting from the folder. “did you say what i told you to?”
“yes, director, i kept the price within the range you specified. i was simply commenting on the simplicity of the transaction; who knew it was so easy to-“
the air shifts, a presence materializing from a cloud of black and teal smoke at zhongli’s side. hu tao yelps, her chair skidding backward.
xiao catches the pen she throws at him with ease.
zhongli pulls it from his hand, the director having finally registered what happened.
“wha- who- you? y- you can’t just appear in my office like that!”
xiao paid her no mind, turning to zhongli and bowing, the latter easily dismissing the action.
“what news do you have?”
“i have scoured all of liyue and have yet to find a trace. in addition, b-… venti has not felt their presence upon the wind, and considering the tightening of security around the harbor thanks to the millelith, i can only assume they have either gone to sumeru through nantianmen or lumberpick valley, or they are in the chasm.”
the words of the millelith from earlier echoed in zhongli’s mind, a plan swiftly forming.
“i see. thank you, xiao. i will leave at once.”
with a nod, the adeptus vanishes back into a cloud of smoke.
“zhongli? who was that? and where are you going? who were you talking about?”
zhongli set the folder on her desk, the pen placed on top. “all in due time, ms. hu. until then, i’m afraid i must depart.”
“you can’t-“
“i promise that appropriate compensation for my leaving early will be arranged, and we may speak on the topic when i return.”
“‘li-“
“goodbye, director.”
black and gold fabric twisted around him as he turned, the empty chain across his back glinting in the light of the office. while he had some regret about leaving so harshly—he’d surely receive a rant about reliance when he returned—it was quickly drowned under his determination.
his god was calling, and all he’d ever wished for was to answer.
you stumble into a tunnel next to a blue waypoint, walking in as far as you can manage before crumbling to the floor. you have to go. to hide. you don’t know how many ‘lives’ you have left, and you’re not keen on finding out, not with the qixing on your tail.
you drag yourself next to a shining chunk of cor lapis, gritting your teeth at the pain.
how did it come to this?
to running from the millelith, hiding in the chasm of all places?
you breathe heavily as you sit against the wall, the sudden shift from relaxation to running for your life taking a toll. you put your hands on the floor to shuffle further against the wall only to wince, moving your palm to see what sharp rock you’d landed on.
except it wasn’t a rock. the ring, the one the dendro slime gave you, is sitting peacefully on top of the dirt like it belongs there. still clean, still shining, the gem without a scratch you can see as you lift it up. the tunnel is only lit by sun streaming in from around the corner, and though it makes it hard to see imperfections on the gold, the light only highlights the wear on your figure. your clothes are tattered and worn, reduced to scraps, that ring the only thing of passable quality. how ironic, that the thing in best condition was the one you never should have taken—where would hilichurls even get them? did you think about it at all?—and the one that almost got you killed.
again.
you couldn’t hold it against the millelith, really. you didn’t know where it came from or why. it didn’t look ancient to you, the gold still glimmering in the faint light, and the gem wasn’t large enough to be of any importance, but maybe it was. maybe it was some artifact that was really rare or highly sought after. maybe it was the dropped ring of some important ruler. maybe it was the wedding band of one of the workers here.
maybe you were just making excuses because you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate them.
..wow, this is kinda pathetic.
you do your best to wrap your wounds with the bandages you swiped, mumbling a quick thank you that they were bandages, no matter how covered in dust from your journey. between your shaky hands and the severity of the wounds, though, you don’t know if you’re actually doing anything of benefit. not to mention you’re still lying on the floor, in a dusty tunnel in the chasm.
dirt and rocks dig into your skin and wounds, scabs breaking as you curl up further, too caught up in your pain to hear the footsteps approaching you.
or maybe you do hear them, and simply don’t care.
you never had the highest level of self-preservation.
zhongli has lived for eons.
he’s seen it all.
nothing surprises him anymore.
….nothing should.
but as he approaches the tunnel the millelith had told him of, as he walks and hears hitched breathing and choked words….
his knuckles are white around his polearm.
he turns the corner, stepping around a wooden support. dust stains the air as if trying to hide you from his view, but can still see. torn clothes, your hands wrapped in dirty bandages that are more likely to get them infected than protect, and you’re… you’re crying.
as he watches, you look up, matted hair falling into your face. you’re sitting next to a chunk of cor lapis, the ore looking like it’s glowing brighter than normal. in the golden light, he sees the tear tracks streak through the dirt on your face, and something like pity twinges in his chest.
something like a laugh leaves your cracked lips.
“morax…”
you knew?
you knew him?
how?
his posture tensed, but you only sat up straighter, leaning on the wall behind you. it was hard to tell if that was blood on the floor or just shadows cast by the ore nearby, but you were obviously weak.
you licked your lips. why hadn���t he moved yet?
“i don’t mind dying, you know. not if it’s you.”
you sounded weak, voice hoarse and painful, like your throat was lined with glass.
and yet… him?
why?
how did you even know him?
surely… surely you weren’t the same person as before, in wuwang hill, right? you weren’t the one who looked up at him with eyes that glittered not with tears but with admiration, your gaze sweeping over his face with such emotion. you weren’t the one that, even as he pointed his spear at your heart, dared to whisper a compliment?
…what did it matter? you… you deserved to be slain. he couldn’t be swayed simply because you looked like his god.
his hand almost didn’t want to obey as he leveled his polearm at your neck, noting the exhaustion with which you relaxed further into the stone. your eyes fluttered shut, your hand landing closer to the light of the ore. he could see a ring on one of your fingers: gold, archaic, likely stolen from a ruin nearby. how pitiful that an artifact would be ruined by you.
the golden point of his blade leveled against your skin, seeming to buzz with excitement in his hand.
he should make it quick.
in his hesitance, you spoke. “you want last words?”
to ask somebody on death row for the worst of crimes for last words would probably be itself a crime elsewhere. giving you the opportunity to take advantage of him while he was vulnerable—though he doubted you had the strength for that…
a small smile crossed your face.
he swallowed. his hand wavered.
“if you wish.”
why did you seem so familiar?
he was starting to shake.
it didn’t matter that you looked like his god. you were the imposter, you were the fake, but being here with you…
why was he hesitating?
this was a sin against his god, to allow such a devil to walk his nation. and to dare to feel sympathy for such a-
“i don’t mind if i die.”
but your voice-
you spoke so softly with his weapon pointed at your throat, every bob of your skin threatening to tear itself across its edge. and yet, you continued, leaving him no choice but to believe your statement.
“i don’t know why you want to kill me, but i don’t. really.”
in the golden light of the lapis and whatever extra was coming around the corner, your skin broke.
what were you saying?
why couldn’t he listen?
he was entranced by the bead of blood, almost shimmering in the light, rolling down your neck.
he had to kill you.
he had to.
why didn’t he want to?
“it’s a good day to die.”
that was a lie, the skies were gray and threatened rain, the earth itself irritated and rumbling with an anger you couldn’t sense. the only reason you said that was because you didn’t know.
he found himself believing it anyway.
“kill me, morax.” the way you said his name- “i’m… i’m sure your god would be proud.”
what did you know of his god?
in the instant anger overcame him, he pressed vortex vanquisher forward, pushing until he hit stone. you flinched, blood rolling down his weapon and falling into your lap in waves. to his surprise, it didn’t stain the blade dark with crimson, instead…
no.
he told himself it was the light.
no.
your eyes fluttered, struggling, and he compared the shade of the ring on your finger to the one on his weapon. even in the tinted lighting, they looked the same.
no.
it was impossible.
even as he tore his weapon away, a futile attempt to undo his actions, he knew it was impossible.
“kill me, morax.”
and he had, he had, and now he wanted nothing more than to take it back, dirt staining his knees as gloved hands fluttered over the wound as if it would magically stick back together.
“i’m sure your god would be proud.”
#shout out to the theat(re/er) kids that caught The Reference. i’m midas i think i’m cooler than i am and i’m new in town#genshin sagau#sagau#genshin#genshin impact#sagau impostor au#sagau zhongli#sagau hu tao#zhongli#hu tao#i put. way too much symbolism and foreshadowing into my GENSHIN IMPACT FANFICTION#me staring at the subtle intricacies of my word choices: damn that’s good. i am proud of this and strive to forever improve.#me realizing nobody gives a fuck about the difference between ‘useless’ and ‘worthless’: oh no#aakidcnwkrkr FUCK i need better hobbies#sagau xiao#xiao#angst#zhongli angst
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Just a. Weird little thing with Zander and Nicholas
CW: pet whump, blood, beatings
***
Even though he should’ve been used to rough treatment by Nicholas, it never got any easier, no matter how much he tried to tell himself it eventually would.
A lot of it was things he was used to, just, from other people, be that Cain or Vanessa, but he knew it was different from Nicholas. While he didn’t think the other two were especially kind to him, he understood that they didn’t seem to hate him, or in Cain’s case, he didn’t hate him all the time. But Nicholas was different from them, every time he looked at him Zander could see absolute hatred in his eyes, everything he did to him seemed to be motivated by anger and spite, making the situation all the more painful for Zander. If he thought about it later, he would roll his eyes, he’d think it’s pathetic, Nicholas had so much control and yet he still felt threatened by him? He’d be able to think of how truly ridiculous it was when he wasn’t actively suffering the consequences of that man’s attitude towards him.
He hated that tears filled his eyes, even though he could reason that it was an involuntary response to being hit in the face. He’d clasped his hands over his face, as if it would stop the blood gushing from his nose, he knew it was broken, he was familiar with the feeling by now. He didn’t think Nicholas had hit him that hard ever before, even in prior beatings he’d come out bruised and bloodied but usually nothing would be broken. It had only taken a single, brutal hit to his face, leaving him knelt on the floor, trying to glare up at him angrily. It was hard to look intimidating when he was holding his face the way he was, tears running down his cheeks, but he didn’t have to look intimidating, he’d already lost, he just wanted Nicholas to know he wasn’t scared of him, he was furious.
“You look even more pathetic when you try to act scary, you know that?” Nicholas said, a hint of amusement in his voice. He was looking down on him like he was satisfied with his work, like he’d finally put him in his place. It wouldn’t satisfy him for long, days, maybe even hours later he’d be angry with him again for simply existing, and he’d make that very clear to him. “But you’re a lot more appealing like this too. You have very pretty eyes for such a worthless mutt.” He said, like he was just trying to make him uncomfortable. If that’s what he was trying for, he succeeded, it made his skin crawl anytime Nicholas felt “nice” enough to give him something resembling a compliment.
“Shut the fuck up.” He muttered, too exhausted to snap at him the way he would’ve liked to. He didn’t want to admit defeat, but he was tired, and it was just the two of them, nobody he had to protect, nobody he had to prove he could protect.
“Hm, and are you going to make me?” Nicholas teased him. He knew there wasn’t anything he could do in this state, and he loved it, as if he only liked Zander when he was broken down and vulnerable. He seemed to only be of any use to him when he felt completely useless to himself.
Zander didn’t want to grace him with a response, he looked away from him, trying to wipe away the tears and blood that had stained his face. He realized he wasn’t very successful, he was just smearing blood everywhere as it had covered his hands as well, and he felt about as pathetic as Nicholas said he was, pathetic and disgusting and just stupid. His face ached already, he knew it would be far worse tomorrow but as he sniffled, trying to hold back more tears, he made the softest whine in the back of his throat, it felt like everything was just another slap to the face. Of course Nicholas picked up on it immediately, he knelt down beside him, Zander flinched as he gently ran a hand through his hair, brushing it out of his face. Sometimes gentle contact felt more like a threat than violence, especially from Nicholas.
“Oh, you poor thing.” He said, the line between sympathy and faux sympathy blurred as usual with him. “You know I just love doing this to you, but it really is easy to avoid. You’ll learn someday.” He told him, and Zander tried to pull away, only for Nicholas to grab him by the hair and roughly pull him back, holding him in place so he wouldn’t move again. “Until then, I’m happy to teach you this lesson as many times as it takes.” He said, and Zander felt like he meant that, he felt certain that this would never get old for Nicholas. The thought made him ill. He didn’t want to break first.
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Heyo! 👋 hope you're doing well! If you are taking requests right now, maybe some Ichi hurt/comfort? Like maybe he's having a depressive episode one day (me? Projecting? It's more likely than you think 😂) unlike any he's ever had before, and he just doesn't have the strength to do anything, even make snippy remarks at any of his brothers. One (or all, you can pick!) of them notices this odd behavior, and makes it their mission to help him feel a little more like his old self, even if that just means "riding out the storm" with him.
Oof this was really long, lol sorry 😂 but thanks for taking the time to read, I love your writing style! Take care! 👋
eyyy don't be sorry! God I REALLY enjoyed writing this... I love how it turned out
sometimes these guys can be jerks, for sure, even when one of their own is in pain
but... when it's serious... THIS BEAUTIFUL SHIT HAPPENS
please enjoy Ichi being spoiled and surrounded by love from all his brothers because HE DESERVES IT and I love how this turned out <3
-
Ichimatsu’s first (and maybe only) mistake is that he assumes his brothers don’t pay that much attention to him one way or the other unless he speaks up.
Or, maybe it’s that he often hopes they don’t.
Because he knows they care; there are little things they all do that remind him that no matter what, they love him. But they all have their own things to do, and most of the time he finds that best. They should be able to do whatever they like instead of wasting their lives making him feel better. He has a bad day or hates himself so much of the time, if they paid him attention whenever he wasn’t doing well, they’d never get to enjoy themselves with other things.
He cares about them, too. So usually he’d rather they occupy themselves with their own interests whenever he’s not feeling well. He can bury things deep inside and pretend those shitty feelings don’t exist and act almost normal. As normal as someone like him can act, anyway. For their sake. They don’t deserve to worry about him.
Today, he’s too tired for whatever reason. His scathing barbs and negative attitude on most days aren’t really fake… on the bad days, though, he can force his typical demeanor so nobody suspects he’s not fine. All they see is sour-faced, ill-tempered fourth brother Ichimatsu.
He can’t even do that much right now. It’s as if the weight of existence and his own mind is pulling him down, further and further, until he’s drowning in his thoughts. Horrible thoughts. Things telling him he’s worthless, a failure, a burden, good for nothing, should probably be dead… too many things to keep track of.
If he were trying not to get his brothers’ attention by being quiet and listless, it isn’t working. In fact, his current behavior has actually done the opposite.
While he’s lying in the corner of the room, curled around himself and wishing he could fall asleep to avoid dealing with these thoughts and feelings, the others are around their table muttering among themselves.
“You guys noticed he barely touched breakfast, right?” Osomatsu is the first to speak up, and he’s doing his best not to look at Ichimatsu too much, simply because he doesn’t want his younger brother to feel everyone’s eyes on him. He’s pretty sure that would just make matters worse.
Choromatsu hums in agreement. “Yeah, no, he just kind of stared into his tea… he might have taken a sip or two, but that’s about it. I don’t think he even ate any rice.”
“Did he even brush his teeth this morning?” Totty speaks up. “Or his hair? It looks messier than usual, and I was the last one in the bathroom before breakfast, and it didn’t look like his toothbrush had been used.”
“Also,” Karamatsu chimes in, “I believe that is the same outfit he wore yesterday. He didn’t sleep in it, but he put it back on when he got up even though it hasn’t been washed.”
Choromatsu frowns and steals a quick glance at the fourth eldest. “Like he… didn’t wanna think about picking something different out, huh? And… it’s kind of worrying that he didn’t brush his teeth or hair. I mean, that’s basic hygiene. It’s like he’s depressed or… some… thing…”
Suddenly a light bulb goes off, and the rest of the brothers exchange a concerned look with each other.
“Oh,” is all Osomatsu says for a moment. Then, “Fuck.”
Before anyone else can breathe a word, Jyushimatsu leans back away from the table and collapses with his head in Ichimatsu’s lap. “Aaaah, Ichimatsu-nii-chan! Baseball practice today? We can do it at the beach!”
Ichimatsu hardly flinches at the abrupt contact, but really it’s because he doesn’t even have the strength to be startled. He doesn’t move to push Jyushimatsu off or bounce his leg to dissuade the him from staying or anything. It’s a moment until he actually says anything, like a delayed reaction from a computer. “Uh. Not today, Jyushi. I’m probably gonna take a nap.”
“Hmmmmmmm… oh, I know! I’ll nap with you! Maybe we’ll dream about baseball!”
All the others watch closely, waiting to see if he gives an average Ichimatsu reaction. Instead, he doesn’t even shrug. “Yeah, if you want.”
Obviously, that’s not what they would be expecting from any other day. They all look at each other again, minus Jyushimatsu who just curls up against his big brother’s side.
Ichimatsu, on the other hand, is so out of it in his own head that he doesn’t realize that he’s done anything to worry his brothers. They should all be paying attention to their own shit, right?
He just feels so exhausted despite that he knows he slept okay last night. All he did this morning was wake up and get out of bed and already he’s… drained.
You’re so lazy. You can’t even put together the energy it takes to read a fucking magazine or something? To do nothing like you usually do? What kind of loser doesn’t have enough energy to do something like watch TV?
What the hell is wrong with you?
He cringes at the sound of his own inner voice berating him, and ducks his head down between his knees. Shit. Everything hurts. Isn’t that right, though? He’s useless. It doesn’t take any effort to just sit somewhere watching TV or reading and yet he’s not even willing to do something like that.
Even though he expects that Jyushimatsu might want to hang out with him, because the two of them are close, he doesn’t anticipate it when Osomatsu comes over and sits himself down across from Ichimatsu. At least, he thinks it’s Osomatsu. He doesn’t really feel like lifting his head fully; it looks like a red hoodie, though.
“Uh, hey, Ichimacchan.” Osomatsu feels a little awkward at first, mainly due to the fact that he’s never sure what to do when Ichimatsu is in one of ‘these’ moods. What works on one day might not work the next time. Previous experience is all he has to draw on, though.
“I noticed you didn’t eat too much at breakfast… you in the mood for something sweet?” Tempting him with one of their favorite treats might put him in better spirits, at least for a minute. “There’s a box of imagawayaki on the counter… there’s three in there, so we can split ‘em. Mom said these ones have chocolate cream in them.”
Everyone else lets out a blissful sigh as they all think about how delicious that’s going to be. Bean paste or custard or even regular cream is always good, but chocolate cream? If they had to fight over those, someone might end up dead.
Ichimatsu offers a shrug in his brother’s direction. “Sure, if you guys want. I’m just not that hungry.”
Osomatsu frowns, and looks over toward Choromatsu who’s thankfully recovered from the imagawayaki imagine spot. None of the brothers would ever turn that down. Even if they weren’t necessarily hungry, they’d make room for something that good. Moreover, given that Ichimatsu didn’t eat anything at breakfast, he should be starving,especially for sweets.
Choromatsu makes his way over, setting a careful hand on Ichimatsu’s shoulder. He doesn’t have any more of a clue what to do than their eldest, so he’s flying by the seat of his pants just as much. Something has to be done… they can’t just let poor Ichimatsu suffer. “Ichimacchan? It’s pretty cold today. How about I turn on the kotatsu, and if you’re gonna nap, you can sleep with your legs under it? That might feel nice.”
Well. That does sound nice, Ichimatsu thinks, because curling up under the heat of the kotatsu is always nice in the winter. But… he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have the energy to even move from this spot. “Oh, yeah… I’ll probably just nap here, though. Don’t really feel like moving.”
“Aaah, but you are cold, aren’t you? I can hear your teeth chattering from all the way over here!” Karamatsu is up in an instant, tugging his leather jacket off his shoulders. Although it leaves him in nothing but a tank top ― and a horribly plain grey one, at that ― it’s a necessary sacrifice for his little brother’s comfort.
He hurries over to where everyone else is gathering and gently drapes the jacket over Ichimatsu’s shoulders. “Hmph… Karamatsu to the rescue as usual! You’re looking cozier already.”
Man,Ichimatsu’s mind comes up with, I try on Shittymatsu’s dumbass jacket one time and suddenly he’s coming up with any excuse to put the stupid thing over me. Do I really want him freezing instead of me? Why don’t I just move my ass over to the kotatsu? He’s gonna catch a cold and it’ll be all my fault because my stubborn ass didn’t move and he took pity on me.
God, I wanna die. They’re all falling all over themselves to do shit to cheer me up when they should be focusing on themselves. I’m fucking trash, making my brothers waste all their damn time on me. Why couldn’t I just do stuff and not make them worry?
“… Ichimatsu-nii-san?” Totty has plopped himself down in front of Ichimatsu, staring in concern at his big brother. Fuck. He’s using that eye voodoo of his, and if he says anything, if he asks Ichimatsu a question, he’s gonna get an honest answer despite the fact that Ichimatsu doesn’t want to admit anything.
He can’t help it, though. Totty’s hand is soft as he reaches up toward Ichimatsu’s face, thumbing away tears that Ichimatsu didn’t even realize he’d started to cry. But his youngest brother is delicate in the way he brushes them, so caring and tender that any little bit of strength Ichimatsu had to keep things hidden away crumbles quickly.
“Hehe,” Totty chuckles, though there isn’t a genuine mirth behind it, “you’re not having a good day, Ichimatsu-nii-san… are you?”
He blinks, and more tears start to drip down his cheeks. This time Totty doesn’t make a move to wipe them away, instead staring at his brother with those big, sad doe eyes, glittering with sympathy.
Ichimatsu lets his head drop again, eyes pressing against his arm and tears soaking into his sleeve. “N-no,” he manages to say in a quiet, insecure, small voice. He hates it. He hates making this stupid confession, because he should be able to take care of himself. His brothers don’t need to be huddled around him, pissing their days down the drain. “I’m… I’m having a bad day.”
With that, it’s like all five of them attach themselves to him all at once. There’s a brief cacophony of worry and reassurances, and a hug Ichimatsu almost loses himself inside of.
“Alright, you hear that, guys?” Osomatsu announces, maybe a bit louder than he really needs to. “Ichimatsu’s having a bad day! Woohoo!”
Choromatsu scoffs. “Ah, ‘woohoo’?? Osomatsu, you idiot! This isn’t a good thing!”
Osomatsu pulls away to rub a finger under his nose with a grin. “Hey, sure it is! He said it, didn’t he? Good for you, Ichimacchan! You’re having a bad day and you said so! Remember what happened when Totty kept junk from us? We need to know this shit! I’m glad you said something!”
Karamatsu’s hand tousles Ichimatsu’s hair as he pulls his brother into a hug. “Yes, Osomatsu is right. You’re having a bad day, Ichimatsu, and that’s just fine. It takes a lot of bravery to admit it, so we’re proud of you.”
“Plus, we’re gonna make this the best bad day ever!” Totty hums. He’s whipped his phone out before anyone can so much as blink, typing away on it. “It’s just about lunch time, so I’m gonna order some takeout! Ichimatsu-nii-san, what sounds good? Curry? Sushi? Ooh… maybe fried chicken? We don’t do that too often… might be a nice treat! Oh, it’s your call, though.”
Osomatsu gives Ichimatsu a tiny bump on the shoulder with his fist. “You and Totty figure that out while I go cut that imagawayaki for us. Be right back, guys.”
… Am I in the fucking Twilight Zone or something? What the hell???
Ichimatsu lifts his head just a little, looking at all his brothers. Totty’s on his phone looking at delivery options, Osomatsu is headed to the kitchen, Jyushimatsu is nuzzled against his side…
None of them are leaving him by himself. They all still want to be here even when his mood sucks ass. Even when he can’t really do anything for himself. Even when he’s being a huge fucking pain and a thorn in their sides and doing literally nothing to contribute to the day.
What the hell are they all doing? Why are they all fine with wasting their day taking care of him?
When Karamatsu presses a couple of tissues into his hand, Ichimatsu somehow finds the energy to use them to wipe his face. Fuck, he hates crying, and he hates people seeing him cry. “Don’t do this,” he mumbles. “You’re fucking morons. You have better shit to do than…”
“No way!” Jyushimatsu aggressively snuggles against the side of Ichimatsu’s stomach, circling his arms around his brother’s waist. “What better shit could weeeee have to do? We’re shitty NEETs!”
Choromatsu chuckles. “Besides, there’s literally nothing more important than taking care of each other, especially when one of us is down and out. Ichimatsu, you… know none of us are shy when it comes to being honest. So, just… try to believe us when we say there’s nothing we’d rather be doing than being with you right now.”
He straightens up, then gingerly taps Jyushimatsu with his foot. “Hey, Jyushi, how about you scoot yourself and Ichimatsu over to the kotatsu? And Totty, are you really gonna make a delivery driver come out in this weather? It’s almost below freezing! Why don’t you go get it yourself?”
“Excuse you, but if they haven’t shut down the delivery option, why shouldn’t I take advantage of it? I don’t wanna leave Ichimatsu-nii-san!”
“Okay, okay… I guess that’s fair. What are you ordering, again?”
“Aaaah, I dunno! I was waiting for Ichimatsu-nii-san to say what he feels like.”
Meanwhile, Jyushimatsu has somehow gotten himself and Ichimatsu over to the kotatsu, and is currently shoving his big brother’s legs under it while Choromatsu moves to plug it in. “Home run, YEAH! Your tootsies will be toasty in no time, Ichimatsu-nii-san!”
“O-oh… thanks, Jyushi…” That’s about all he can say, really. He’s slumped over the table in a matter of seconds, and although there’s no way it can support the weight of everything he feels like he’s being crushed under, feels a little more relaxing than holding himself in a tight ball in the corner.
He’s going to cry again. He’s pretty sure he’s going to cry again. His brothers, his selfish, douche-a-holic, demon brothers… would rather be taking care of him on a bad day than out doing their own things, not touching him or his shitty mood with a ten-foot pole.
Jyushimatsu is cuddled up on one side, and he can feel Karamatsu settling in on the other with an arm around Ichimatsu’s shoulders. That’s it. He’s surrounded by brothers and their warm, selfless-for-once-in-their-lives affection. He has to surrender. He doesn’t stand a chance.
His mind drifts back to the others. “Oh… Totty…”
“Oh! Yeah, mhm?”
“Um… curry sounds good, I guess.”
The impossibly huge smile on his youngest brother’s face comes through even when he speaks. “Oh, great! Curry it is! Okaaaay, I’m gonna get it from that nice place in town. You want it with rice or udon? Or do you want curry bread?”
“Uhh… just with rice.”
“Rice, okay, sounds good! Beef, chicken, or pork?”
“Huh… you mentioned fried chicken, now that sounds good. Does that place do curry rice with tonkatsu on top?”
“Oooh… that does sound good. Yeah, I think there’s an option for that. Chicken tonkatsu with curry rice, then?”
“Yeah.”
“Gotcha. Is that what everybody wants?”
“Yeah, Totty,” Choromatsu injects, “just order the same thing for everybody. We’ll all eat that.”
“Okay, what about sides? Does anyone want fukujinzuke or rakkyō?”
“Geez, just… just get half of each and we can divide it up if anyone wants any.”
“Okaaay! I’m not ordering drinks from there, though… too expensive. We have tea here. Oh, I’ll get a few orders of pork curry bread, too, in case we want a snack later.”
“Well, make sure you get either three or six.”
“Yeahhhh, Cherrymatsu, I’m not stupid! I’ll just get three; I’m fine buying some, but I’m not trying to go broke! Does that sound okay, Ichimatsu-nii-san? The curry bread for later?”
It takes a moment, but finally Ichimatsu lets out a breathy, almost tearful laugh as he leans against Karamatsu’s shoulder. “Totty… you’re trying to fatten me up… you witch… you’re gonna cook me and eat me… that’s your plan, huh?…”
The whole room erupts into a small fit of laughter, even Totty who’s blushing at being teased. Ichimatsu feels Karamatsu press a kiss to his head, and he sighs. Usually he wouldn’t be able to take all of this… the attention, and Totty blabbering away, and Choromatsu trying to be responsible, and… everything.
At the moment, it feels right. Like things are supposed to be this way. Like he’s supposed to be having a bad day so his brothers can all gather around him and remind him that regardless of anything else, when one of them needs their brothers, everyone is going to be there.
Maybe he needed that reminder.
Maybe they all did.
#depression tw#suicidal thoughts tw#Osomatsu san#whump#Ichimatsu#Osomatsu#Karamatsu#Choromatsu#Jyushimatsu#Totty#hurt/comfort#emotional whump#depression#caretaking#LOOK AT MY BOYS!!!! BEING GOOD BOYS#TAKING CARE OF THEIR BROTHER!!!!#y'all PLEASE SCREAM WITH ME#I love this fam so much ;-;
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