One-Shots [Boboiboy]

Five Seconds

What would you say to someone who's seen countless wars? How would you comfort someone, knowing that you could never help them?

"I shouldn't have left you," Thunderstorm says dully, scowling as he glared as his ghostly hands. "I should have tried harder."

Cyclone smiled, though there was sadness in it. He looked like he was on the verge of tears, just barely holding his emotions together.

"There was nothing you could have done. And you would have suffered more anyway." Cyclone, with shaky arms, he bent down towards the dented metal surface, the edges rusted and loose, and curled his fingers around it, wincing as the sharp ends cut his skin. "Besides," he grunted, veins appearing on the back of his hand, reaching down to his wrists, "there was no way you could have recovered."

In the dark, Cyclone could barely see his own face, but he could pinpoint the exact moment his friend's head whipped over, glaring with intensity that barely faded even through the trials of death.

"You don't know what I'm capable of," Thunderstorm hissed, crossing his arms. "If it wasn't for—"

Cyclone stopped abruptly, straightening his back as his grip released, dripping blood from his fingertips. "For what? Are you looking for something to blame so you won't come to terms with your own death?" he spat, all friendliness gone. "You've been wandering in the mortal realm for almost seven decades. Quake's been waiting for you for at least four. He died saying that he would look for you, so you won't feel so alone in death, but you're the one that left him in the dust."

Thunderstorm's translucent form flashed red, which was the spirit equivalent of blushing. His form shrunk, shirking away from the aerokinetic, who seemed to tower over him from his years, yet never truly surpassing in height.

"Why do you still follow me around?" Cyclone demanded, more concerned than angry. "Why won't you just rest in peace?"

Thunderstorm looked away. "I can't," he argued. "Don't you think I tried? I can't pass on."

Cyclone frowned. "Why?" He stepped closer, surprised. "What do you have that's stopping you? Is it a villain? Is it your funeral? How you were buried?" He clenched his fists, blood tainting his hand. "Is it me?"

For a moment, none of them spoke. The hum of the machine beyond these walls seemed to blare like sirens, each creak and groan blared to full volume.

Then Thunderstorm laughed. He clutched his stomach, howling with laughter.

Cyclone's face lit up bright red. "What?"

Thunderstorm wiped a phantom tear from his eye, gritting his teeth to stop his reaction to humour. "My bad," he spluttered, snorting. "Cy, you were a brother to me, 'kay? But that's not what's stopping me from leaving."

"Then what?" Cyclone huffed, irritated that he was toyed with. "Adudu? He's dead before you were! Retakka? His body was found before Quake died. Or did someone draw moustaches on your Pikachu with Sharpie and you're too embarrassed to die?"

"I wish," Thunderstorm scoffed, waving his hand as if blowing smoke from his face. "If it was that simple, I would have left the moment I died. But eh, I guess I was too weak to even stay awake for five more seconds."

"Five seconds? What difference would that make?"

"A lot," Thunderstorm hummed. "You wouldn't remember anyway. I don't blame you. You were near death too."

Near death, five seconds.

Did he mean his final words?

Thunderstorm wasn't wrong; Cyclone had nearly forgotten the fight that took Thunderstorm's life. All he could remember was blood, shouting, and tears.

Vaguely, he could remember Thunderstorm laying limp in his arms, blood pooling around his body. He could remember his lips moving weakly, forming words that he never caught.

He

Killed

Me

"You're..." Cyclone muttered, suddenly alert. "You were trying to tell me who's your killer."

Thunderstorm shrugged. "You asked who too," he agreed. "But then, like every cliché movie, I died right then. It's sadder when you actually experience it yourself."

"Then who was it?" Cyclone's fists unclenched, blood dripping to the ground.

"If I say it, would you believe me?"

"Of course I will. Why wouldn't I believe you?"

Thunderstorm stared at him, searching for any mark of lies, but there was none.

He sighed, scratching his head, dreading that the truth would be told after decades, in a circumstance that neither of them would dream of.

"Fine." Thunderstorm looked up. "It was Quake."