history | a boboiboy fanfiction

7 | Fixing It

If there was one thing that Thunderstorm would ever regret, it would be not spending more time with his friends. What was the product of his hostile demeanor? What good did it bring? He was unapproachable, yet they never left his side. They would sacrifice themselves for his well-being with no questions asked. They treated him as one of their own.

But he betrayed their trust.

With his own two hands, with his full clarity, he'd recreated the nightmares that they feared so much. It was a miracle that Quake was still talking to him. Cyclone had yet to kill him, but he would have to; it was just a matter of time. He couldn't be saved anymore.

Why would he be so callous? So ignorant?

Why didn't he use this power to defeat Retakka? It would be fighting fire with fire, but it would have a chance of defeating him. Yet he kept this secret hidden away, revealing it at the worst moment.

His eyes began to close. The smell of dirt and blood was so surreal. It was from a distinct planet, but it was ever so familiar. 

Oh, he realized, his breathing beginning to stop. It's too late, isn't it? 

He had no more time left. His journey was the longest out of all his friends, but now he was getting the closure he never expected to have. His life was ending. He could finally see the end of the road he walked all his life. 

But when did his path begin to stray? 

Thunderstorm closed his eyes. He no longer had feeling in his body. As his eyelids finally shut, a streak of tears rolled down his eyes. 

Then there was nothing. 

***

We promised that we'd protect you

I'm sorry that I can't give you peace

Wait for us on the other side

Will you? 

***

It's been weeks, but there was still no sign of their oldest elemental. 

Quake knew something bad happened. Elementals can sense each other, after all. Especially if they'd been used to each other's presence for decades. 

The others were worried, but they hadn't included the factor of no return. After all, why would they need to worry? Thunderstorm was strong. He would return when he wanted to. 

He was. 

It was an instinct he couldn't ignore. Everyone's lives were connected to him. A life gone meant threads snapping. He knew how it felt because of Retakka. So many lived gone at once, yet he was the only one who felt it. 

And the feeling returned weeks ago. Two days after Thunderstorm left. 

Thunderstorm is dead. 

He was devastated, but he couldn't do anything. He had no information. Usually, his instincts were on point, but even this time, he doubted himself to no end. 

How could he die? He had both Quake and Cyclone's power. He wasn't foolish enough to be jumped by some unknown entity. All the serious threats have been taken care of.  He couldn't have died because of something else, could he? 

"Hey, Quake!"

Quake turned, fairly surprised by Thorn's voice. He's been spacing out frequently nowadays—it can't be good. 

"Yes, Thorn?" he asked with a smile. "Is something wrong?"

God, please, don't ask about Thunder. 

Thorn beamed. "Can me and Solar go out for a patrol? We haven't been out for years!" He spun around and dragged Solar by his arm. Solar waved at him awkwardly. "Please? It's been so long!"

Quake paused. Patrol? Ah, it's been months since they were locked in the house, per Thunderstorm's orders. Now that he's been gone for weeks, they naturally saw Quake as the decision maker. 

Retakka is dead. Thunderstorm is dead. The line of Elemental Drain users has come to an end. They would be safe out there, but Quake and Cyclone won't ever recover from this. It's not a secret they would be able to hide forever. 

"Sure," he forced himself to say. "Just be back before sunset. Make sure to call for help if there's a threat you can't handle."

"Relax," Solar says arrogantly, pushing up his visors with a confident smirk. "We can handle anything. We've grown plenty stronger. So don't worry about us."

"Hm, sure thing." 

Quake watched Thorn skip out the door, still clutching Solar's arm in glee. As soon as they left the front porch, his smile dropped. 

Maybe more than you know. 

***

"Hey," Quake started, accosting Cyclone in their room. "How are you feeling?"

Cyclone laid on the bed, his legs crossed in the air. He was reading a book, having donned wireless headphones. He didn't hear Quake entering due to his music.

"Cy." Quake headed over and tapped him on the shoulder. His friend jolted in shock and whipped to him in surprise. 

Cyclone removed his headphones. "Yeah? What's up?"

Quake sat on his bed, which was beside Cyclone's. "I was asking how you were feeling."

"Oh." Cyclone set his book down. He crossed his arms, a curious expression settling in. "Doing swell. Why so sudden?"

"Not really sudden. Should've asked it earlier, to be honest."

Cyclone curled his lip, beginning to frown. "They…" He paused momentarily, as if gathering the proper words. "… they don't know yet, do they?"

Quake sighed. "Of course they don't," he muttered. He clutched his pillow like a stuffed toy. "I don't think we should tell them either. At least, not yet."

"Come on, Quake," Cyclone argued, leaning closer. "They have to know eventually. Don't you think they'll get suspicious if we don't go out for battles in the future? We can't fight. Not without powers."

"We can't, can we?"

Neither of them said anything against it. 

Quake lied down on his bed, back facing Cyclone. He didn't say anything, but his slow and heavy breathing gave away his helplessness and confusion. 

How do I fix this? Quake thought, blinking away tears. Can it be fixed at all?