Flame-chasing Captain.

2 - Aimless.

It was another day for (Y/N), another day to labor away at the papers on his desk.

Ever since waking up at five in the morning, (Y/N) truly began to consider just what he was doing with his life; luckily, he was able to get through his work quicker than everyone else within the base; plus, he did actually have less work because his duties as Captain had temporarily been suspended. 

He didn't do anything wrong or malicious; that wasn't the case at all; rather, he was told by Welt that he should stop for a break and that he'd take over duties for the time being. (Y/N) trusted Welt, most people did, so he gave up his responsibilities for the better half of two months.

Now, he was in his room in Anti-Entropy's Salt Lake Base: technologically advanced, built of pure steel, and absolutely suffocating. He didn't hate the place, not at all, but sometimes he swore he felt two, or several, hands choking him, suffocating him, making him unable to breathe. The ironic thing was, was that the entire base had top-notch air conditioning and, most of the time, was rather chilly. But, for some odd reason, be it an outside force or just his body, he wouldn't feel comfortable within any place inside the base except his own.

It was also only a recent phenomenon; he had been here several times in the past to visit Bronya or the others, and back then, he didn't even remotely feel like he was being crushed. It was only ever since three weeks ago that this had been happening, three weeks of feeling as if he was struggling underwater. 

He had told Einstein, Tesla, and the others he trusted within this base about how he was feeling, and several of them were concerned about him. They suggested he should transfer to another base, but he rejected their offers, saying how it probably wouldn't change anything.

Resting in his chair while writing down on a sheet of paper, (Y/N) relaxed his hands as they had grown stiff from holding his pencil for too long. Nevertheless, he needed to keep writing; he still had some work to do, work that he could round off in about three more minutes. If he could just last three more minutes, he would be done for the day, and he could do whatever he wanted.

Play games outside, go to the mall, spend time with Tesla, and read a book: these were some of the potential activities he could indulge in, at least after he was done working.

Gripping the pencil tighter, (Y/N) wrote and wrote, writing every word at a swift pace, so fast in fact that he was starting to cut bits of the paper he was writing on. The light that illuminated his face and the paper before him was starting to dim; for what reason, he wasn't too sure. Perhaps it was actually his eyes that were beginning to dim; he had been working for ten hours, give or take, and it had just turned three. He barely got any sleep, and he needed it desperately. However, he wouldn't go to sleep after this; no, he still needed to ask Tesla and Einstein about something: the ring on his finger.

It felt like it was staring at him, with the diamond shining on it reflecting his image with perfection. It felt like it was smothering his finger, though also forcing it in place, and he wasn't too sure how to take it off. So, at least for now, he decided to just keep it on. The ring was beautiful, there was absolutely no doubt about that, and it looked expensive, too expensive for him to buy.