One-Shots [Boboiboy]

How Do You Live

He never spoke of their darker forms, and the others knew exactly why. Being the leader, anchoring yourself and your team is an essential. If not, it was the factor that decided the fate of everyone you cared for. Everything that you've been fighting for will be determined by how deep your loyalties lie.

For many years, Quake watched the people he knew grow old; their skin sagging and their eyes sinking into their sockets. Aging, as they claimed it. An unfamiliar term that never touched him, nor he had the time to consider the senseless thought. He never understood how people's bodies wither away as they cease to breathe, or why they would treat death like their only destination.

To him, death was optional. Aging was a choice. His structure was just as fluid as glue, easily tangible and flexible like rubber. It no longer mattered to him how many days he wasted waiting for another threat to arise, for he will certainly stand against it.

Loneliness, his mortal friends told him. The being of silence, the expression of isolation captivated in a mere word. Do you feel lonely? they asked him. Never dying. Never aging like us. He shook his head, smiling as he answered, No, not at all. A true answer, for there were no lies to tell. He did not feel alone, because he had six others just like him.

They were all of different worlds, sculpted from various expectations. Some rebelled against their fate, and some didn't mind. Yet fate brought them together as one, the only haven that reminded them that they were never alone. There were six others just like them, for the lord was a cruel one, cursing them to never die, never age, and never live.

What was it like to be human? How does it feel to live? He asked his human friends. They looked at each other and back to him, their shoulders shuffling up and down as they answered: You just live, they said. You feel pain, sadness. But you will also feel happiness, and gratitude.

They died with time, and Quake was left to find more human friends. Maybe this time they could tell him what it means to be alive.

"Getting attached to humans will only make you feel worse, Quake," Thunderstorm warned him; his cold, red eyes trailing over the scrap of paper in Quake's hand, of which had numbers scribbled on the crinkly surface. "It's been thousands of years. Humans come and go. We don't. We stay here for eternity."

"Perhaps," Quake said with a smile. "But humans always change. They are always worth protecting."

Thunderstorm said no more and left him to his business, his sharp words carved with reasoning and handled with scorching fire. Quake wasn't the only one that had human friends—they all did, once upon a time. Their story ended long ago, with only one of the main cast lived to breathe the soilless fresh air.

The older immortal's words were never once heeded, but he would be by Quake's side as his friends withered away, watching silently, never making a comment.

Quake mourned ever loss he experienced, yet he never let it weigh him down. He had learned to let go of his sagging past, to cut ties with the dead. The dead will not return, and his friendship with them shall be buried under dirt and stone.

What was death? He asked himself. What was pain? The countless battles they fought never took their lives, only taking their mobility for a short while; and they would recover as if nothing ever happened to them. They were numb physically and emotionally, every blow to their bodies ignored, every insult overlooked.

Wounds meant nothing. They were a mere setback, limiters that would heal over time, and a restraint that pestered them for many centuries. Pain no longer followed the wound, and the word pain slowly became a myth to the seven immortals. Their emotions have faded, their humanity drained and dried. All that's left of them was to protect what they once were, to save the smiles of the people that they used to be part of.