THADDEUS

“Aghhh, fuck…” I sat up slowly, pressing my thumb and forefinger to my throbbing eyes which burned from the early morning light of the Digi-window. 

My head was pounding, not unlike how it did when I was assigned to Expansion and the explosives were set a little too close for my liking. 

I flopped my body back against the frame of the couch, pushing my curls back from my forehead as I released a groan of frustration. I didn’t think I drank that much last night, but I guess I got a little carried away at some point during the chaos of the night. 

Wouldn’t be the first time, after all. 

My eyes were feeling heavy, but I forced them back open as I tried to psych myself up.

‘You’re fucking Thaddeus Axton. You can handle anything. Has a little fucking headache ever taken you out of the game?!’ I argued with myself, which was luckily enough to force my legs to stand. 

However, once my eyes finally opened wide enough to take in the scene around me, my jaw dropped in sheer shock.

“Oh shit,” I muttered breathlessly. 

My Housing Pod was a complete and utter mess. 

Cups were strewn all over the place, half-eaten food littered almost every flat surface, and there were even a few mystery puddles in a few spots on the counters and concrete floors. 

Oh, man… This was… This was…

This was proof that I knew how to throw a fucking rager!

A huge, smug grin overtook my features as I realized how much clout I was gonna gain from my crazy good hosting skills. Regardless of that tiny little hiccup with that one enforcer as well as the fact I could only barely remember how I ended up falling asleep, I was more than sure that I would undoubtedly be the talk of The Society today. I even found myself getting a little lost in the thought of everyone begging me to be invited to my next party, falling at my feet just for the chance to be considered. 

My headache was long forgotten as I had already begun to mentally plan for my next banger. Next time would have to be even crazier. I made a mental note to enlist Mitty to think up a master plan.

My eyes swept over the room one more time as I imagined the future scene before finally swiveling them over to the coffee table, where my… my… wait…

‘Where the fuck is my uniform?!’ I mentally screamed, turning to shove multiple empty alcohol bottles out of the way as if they were somehow concealing the much larger item that I was looking for.

Where was it?! It was always here when I woke up! Always! 

There was no way in hell that I could show up to The Unit with a dirty uniform! Sure, some of the guys were more than happy to show their faces with jumpsuits caked with yesterday’s dirt, but I was not one of… those!

It took a few beats for it to hit me as to why my uniform wasn’t there, but when it did, my fists clenched so hard that I probably left little half-moon indents on my palm. 

That little…

Though, as quickly I felt my anger rising, an unexpected sound stopped its fiery ascent right in its tracks.

“...Blergh!” 

The sound was echoey and somewhat distorted, almost as if it were being spoken through some sort of funnel. Although I didn’t immediately recognize the voice, there was only one person that it could have been.

And after rounding the corner to the hallway, all suspicions were confirmed. 

I groaned, heaving a sigh at the sight of Bug, hunched over the toilet and clutching the bowl as if it were a ration pack during a week of low supply. He looked to be on the very edge of unconsciousness, thin extremities barely functioning to hold him up, skin dull and somewhat sweaty, and eyelids drooping as he audibly mouth-breathed. 

Who would have thought, the little shit was hungover. 

‘Serves him right.’ I silently thought to myself as a smug grin overtook my face at the scene. He looked so pitiful, barely even a spark compared to his fiery display of last night. 

I almost laughed - and probably would have - if it wasn’t for that damn metallic-y odor that once again invaded my nostrils. Another breath revealed that Bug was drenched in it, his normal peach scent almost entirely overcome by that horrific one, one that signaled his immense distress. 

How was I so sure that it meant that he was distressed? I have not a fucking clue, my friend, but somehow… somehow my entire being just understood.

‘Just like last night’ I was abruptly reminded, the blurry memory of the end of the party becoming progressively clearer in my mind’s eye. With only a single sound I had somehow known that he was in trouble, and this metal-adjacent aroma was absolutely no different.

You would have thought that the sour scent of vomit would bother me more than anything, but honestly I barely even registered it. That metal scent was somehow a million times worse, my stomach twisting with anxiety the longer that I stood there witnessing the scene.

And then Bug’s arm gave out, and my body flew. 

My knees smacked the concrete floor with a harsh crack, but I didn’t feel the pain. Instead, I was focused on one thing and one thing only.

One arm slid underneath his floppy one and then around his surprisingly thin waist, my chest pressing against his back, and I used the other to sweep his hair back like a band so that it wouldn’t fall into the disgusting toilet bowl. Only when I was sure that he was secure enough in my grip did I lean back on my heels, Bug’s body weight supported in its entirety by my intervention. 

“Hey, Bug! Bug, wake up!” I demanded, releasing his hair to gently smack his cheek a few times. His floppy head fell back to rest against my chest, and as I gazed down at his unconscious face, my brain began to whirl without my consent.

I couldn’t help but notice a few things. 

First, he could really use a tan.

Second, he was so small, his body weight not even a blip on the radar of my strength as I held him steady.

And third, his face was so… symmetrical, with features so evenly proportioned that I almost felt a hint of jealousy flare in my chest as I thought of my own, now completely asymmetrical face - courtesy of the shrapnel incident. 

It was almost… kinda… stunning? 

“Mmm…” 

My skeleton almost jumped clear out of my skin as the color finally began to filter back into Aria’s face, his eyelids slowly dragged open, and our gazes locked. His peachy fragrance immediately flared right back to life to my utter relief, competing against that lingering metallic bullshit that made me act so irrationally.

“...T-Thad?” Bug whispered, voice breathy and barely there to the point where if I wasn’t right next to him, I likely wouldn’t have even heard it. 

“In the flesh.” I replied, flashing him a signature, cocky smirk, although internally my stomach was still fucking churning with the desire to rid him of the rest of his that terrible distress.

But before I could move a muscle, Bug’s eyes flickered with newfound recognition and he was scrambling away from me, eyes wide with horror as he realized the intimate position we were in.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pass out! I think… I think I’m sick! I just feel so awful, I don’t know what’s happening to me!” He blubbered with watery eyes, spouting explanations as if he were pleading for his life in front of The Elders or something. I rolled my eyes.

“It’s called a hangover, Bug. But I guess I can’t expect you - of all people - to know that.” I explained, unable to resist the slightly condescending tone that slipped in. However, seeing his instantaneous reaction of curling away made me instantly regret it, and I ran a hand down my face in frustration. 

He was scared of me. But honestly, after what I said to him last night, I couldn’t fault him for it. Even I - king of blaming everyone else for anything that I could possibly justify - had to admit that it was pretty fucked up of me to say.

And I had a gnawing feeling I wouldn’t manage to get rid of that terrible metal in the air until I made it right.

“... Listen, I’m… I’m s-” I began, but the word got lodged in my throat. 

Fuck.

I wasn’t used to apologizing. In fact, I couldn’t even remember the last time I said sorry to anyone. I mean, nine-point-five times out of ten I was right anyway, so what did I need to have that stupid ‘S’ word in my vocabulary for anyway?

I would have to work around it.

“... I… am… regretful of what I said last night,” I substituted.

Yeah, that was a good alternative, even though my jaw still ached with effort. 

“... It was wrong of me to call you a name. You aren’t… that.” I finished, unable to repeat the word I’d used the previous night. 

My eyes shifted around, finding it hard to maintain eye contact as we sat in silence for a few moments. Slowly, the scent of peaches overwhelmed the room, and when I finally looked up Bug sat, playing with his fingers and nursing a tiny, timid smile on his tear-streaked face. He looked at me through his long lashes as he went to speak.

“Thank you. I… I needed to hear that,” Bug paused, chewing his bottom lip as if he were contemplating something before he continued, “I didn’t mean what I said either… about… mating Uriah, I mean.” He finished with a deep, shaky breath. 

My biceps twitched, muscle memory taking over at the mention of that damn enforcer. 

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