[Hank x 2Bdamned] • A Madness Combat Oneshot Book

≈ I'm So Tired Of Fighting ≈

WOO MY OWN IDEA BECAUSE WHY NOT!! I WILL BE DOINF THE REST OF THE REQUESTS I HAVENT DONE AFTER THIS  BUT YEAH!
VERY ANGST!! Hank being emo slash half jay (/hj) 2B has do deal with emo shenanigans
How am I writing these so quickly wtf

[Hank's POV]

Red, red, it's all just.. red. Dark, light, between, different shades of red.
I'm tired of it.
The sky? Red.
The goopy insides of grunts? Red.
The tint of my goggles? Red.
My blood that I see almost every SINGLE day?Red.
The only other colors were shades. Black. White. Grey.
I'm sick of it.
I don't want to kill anymore.
I'm tired of seeing red.
The color of anger, rage.
The color that surrounds me everywhere I go.
The color that haunts me and my thoughts.
The color of my own damn left arm.

My hand is numb and calloused.
I can barely feel a single thing.
My whole body feels like deadweight. Muscle over muscle, tendons stretching worthlessly.
I'm done with fighting.
It's scary. I get scared too.
The amount of times I've been so close to being completely dead.
I get scared of when I see things I don't know how to react to. I've only seen so many weapons.
I've only dodged so many bullets

My own teammate died while reviving me.
The red on the ground, splattered around the lifeless body.
The first thing I see when I opened my eyes again after being revived? Red.
It's all so monochrome.
I feel things too.
I might have a high pain tolerance, but I'm not immortal.
I can feel every time a sword stabs through my guts, the way my heartbeat slows, the way I've gotten my brains shot out, spattered on a concrete wall, painting it with a dull pink and bright red.

Many times, I've wanted nothing but to sleep.
Many times I've slept and never wanted to wake up again.
And the sigh of disappointment when I wake up.
Every time I look in the mirror, faced with a body I feel as if isn't my own.
A rough looking man, lean muscles, covered head to toe in irreversible scars that will never go away, that will always remind me of who I am.
I look into my eyes.
Blank.
It seemed a fog grew over them, no ounce of emotion left.

I could barely hear anything, the persistent ring of tinnitus, constant, never staying the same pitch.
I don't want to talk, I never wanted to.
I just wanted them to stop.
I just wanted the music to stop.
I just wanted it to be quieter.
Now, a zombie DJ is after me, red hair.
Jebediah Christoff. Jebus. Eyes glowing red.

I looked down at my feet.
Since when were they so far away?
Why are they walking now. I don't want to walk. I want to sit.
Let me look up.
My body moved on its own.
Where am I going. Stop. Stop.. please...
My head looked up, at the door of 2Bdamned's room.
Why am I here? I don't want to talk to him.

Knock knock.
It echoed in my own head, the sound growing louder.
Did I even knock? Did I imagine knocking? Was that knocking sound even real? Am I making things up?
"Ghn... it's like two AM Hank, whhat do you want.."
My thoughts were cut short.
I couldn't raise my arms, I couldn't lift my hands.
"P..please.. I'm s..cared... I d..on't want...," my voice faltered.
I sound so weak. Worthless, stupid, trash..

"..Get in the room."
I felt my legs shakily stumble into the room, almost collapsing into the ground, thankfully falling onto the mattress instead.
I felt the spot next to me dip as 2B sat next to me.
"Do you wanna talk about it?" He questioned, his voice soft like the blanket I was laying on.
It smelled nice.
It smells like him.
I shook my head to the question asked, not wanting to make it seem like I was ignoring him.

Seconds, minutes, hours passed.
"How about now?"
Involuntarily, I nodded.
My throat ached as I talked, and talked, and talked.
I threw my problems to the man next to me, leaving myself open, bare.
I wanted to stop.
But he listens so well.
I didn't know how much I needed someone to listen to me.
Now I do.
Now I don't want to stop.

Eventually my throat gave out, heaving out an uneven sigh.
I laid down, my eyes shut tightly. I don't even want to see the look of disgust on his face.
Dumb me, so stupid. So so so useless.
I heard him sigh, "Rest, we can talk about this, if you still do, tomorrow morning, when both of our heads are cleared. I can practically hear the voices in your head right now. None of what it is saying is true. You've protected Sanford, Deimos, and I, whether against your will or not. You are worth so much to the three of us, we never failed to get back on someone who's hurt us before, have we?"

Though, I was touched, the words midway muffled into nothingness.
Tired.
Rest.
I deserve this rest.
I'm.. worth something.