Work Text:
"Commencing work now with Abnormality T-01-68, The Funeral of the Dead Butterflies. Management has instructed me to obtain EGO weaponry from said abnormality today. Afore this request was made of me, I was under the impression that the extraction department was solely responsible for this manner of task. Could it be possible the manager misspoke? Regardless, an attempt shall be made. I shall update with report of success or failure. Such is all I have to say." Yi Sang turned the voice recorder off with a click. He did not mind working with this Abnormality. It was easy enough to keep repressed, so long as he could provide it with sufficiently engaging conversation.
He wondered at times how this "repression" meaningfully differed from attachment work, which he'd been ordered to never engage in, lest his mind snap under the strain of the Abnormality's connection. But here he still was, so differ it must.
The clear, soft sound of a bell rang out in the Abnormality's chamber. Yi Sang smiled gently and nodded in its direction.
"Indeed, I have come to work with you once more."
Yi Sang had thought that perhaps it was a mistake to approach when the Abnormality beckoned him closer, once he'd broached the question of the EGO weapon. And he'd known it would be a risk to accept its offer as it held the pair of pistols up in one hand. But already it had gifted him a coffin much like its own to wear upon his back. A token of fondness, perhaps?
One of its empty hands reached out to him. There it stood, gallant and polite, even handsome in its fine suit as its wings fluttered slowly. Never had it taken offense to the dialogues he introduced. And to call them "repression" had always felt slightly inaccurate. For then, after all, could not any work with the Abnormalities be called repression work, if the intent was to stop them from indulging their impulses that might become destructive?
The soft, pleasant chime of an unseen bell was all it had for a voice. But Yi Sang understood it fine. Yes, surely, the moratorium on attachment work was simply in place to stop him from becoming too attached himself. For it simply would not do to allow himself to remain too close to an Abnormality, lest he be killed or driven to madness.
"Yes, one must hold on loosely. No grip is tight enough to keep death at bay."
Yet attachment work is ordered for some Abnormalities, is it not? I, myself, have even engaged in such. There is life and even soul within an Abnormality just as in a human being, and so, too, there must be some variety in temperament and personality. But nevertheless...
Another clear, light tone. A white butterfly rested on the Abnormality's shoulder.
"These celebrants of yours… with nowhere else to go, you make a home for them. Yet you do not hold them. They are free to settle where they might, to fly around at will. For they will always return to you, will they not?"
The Abnormality slowly fluttered the wings that served as its head. Perhaps the equivalent to an affirmative nod.
"There is melancholy in your posture today." Yi Sang felt safe in this chamber, with its familiar sadness and jubilation. Perhaps somewhat foolishly, he extended a hand in kind and took the Abnormality's in his. It chimed softly again. "Yes, I will remain here with you until the work is complete, as always." The unseen bell sounded once more, this time duller in tone. The Abnormality tugged Yi Sang towards it. His eyes grew wide and quickly filled with heavy tears as he finally understood its grief for him in full. "No, it is true, I cannot leave. But conversation with you is always pleasant to me, I do not mind. Gladly will I work with you whenever I am given the call." How useless it felt now to reassure it! But still he tried out of habit, despite allowing it to pull him closer. The guns were forgotten entirely. The only urge he had now was to share in its mourning, that the burden might be halved. The facility was so full of living souls, trapped indefinitely. But this Abnormality worked closest with Yi Sang, and so it grieved for him the most. It had never had to tell him that he was its favorite. It was obvious. The dull tone rang out again, and Yi Sang felt his legs grow weak. It could not save him. Even in death he could only remain. And as long as he lived, he could not be freed. He felt no need to grieve for himself, but was the Abnormality, too, not trapped? Its existence was one of eternal mourning for the employees of the facility. He dropped to his knees, overcome with the Abnormality's sadness.
It knelt down in kind, still towering over him with ease, and placed a hand on his shoulder. How could Yi Sang help but want to be of comfort to one who suffered so deeply? He could be told a hundred times that Abnormalities lacked depth, that they did not follow logic or reality, that they could not truly be helped. But it was impossible to believe. At its wordless urging, he followed as it backed up to sit against the wall. But the despair was too heavy to permit him to stand, and so he crawled after it in a slow, desperate way.
"Hold on loosely… Just hold on…" Yi Sang suppressed a sob as he climbed into and straddled the Abnormality's lap. He was a grown man of average height, yet he was dwarfed by the towering creature which now embraced him. It was all too easy to lay his head on its chest, which had no heartbeat. Only the soft fluttering of wings could be felt inside the solid surface. It pulled him in tighter by the waist, pushing its featureless crotch against him.
A faint, high-pitched chime sounded now, nearly too quiet to hear. Yes, now was not the time for noise. The white butterflies were silent as they fluttered around the room. And Yi Sang was as quiet as he could be as he followed the Abnormality's lead, grinding his hips up against it and holding it close. Intimacy was often a form of comfort for those in mourning, he knew. A natural part of the process. To think it had held onto this grief for so long with such poise! But on the way to work each morning, did he, too, not witness the echoes of the City's horrors, despite the L-corp nest's best efforts at hiding them? Lobotomy Corporation's employees could not escape, and neither could any other feather in the wing. Overcome with emotion, Yi Sang buried his face in the Abnormality's chest, still rutting against it with increasing fervor. It seemed to have no genitals at all, nothing to indicate that it would achieve any sort of physical gratification from this. But Yi Sang was far too distraught now to ruminate on this for long.
That the Abnormality had no lips to kiss was perhaps of benefit; he dared not break the quiet to indulge any urge to cry when there was no mouth to muffle any sobs against. And so he fought to maintain his near-silence. This was not like him; normally, thinking about death was part and parcel of the work day, solemn but dignified. Yet there was no place else for the grief to overflow but into the vessel fueling passion. Inescapable, terrible passion which threatened to devour him in body and mind. Only the waves of pleasure could, if not staunch the sadness, at least dull the keen agonies that would otherwise rend his heart asunder. Yi Sang's eyes squeezed shut as he thrust against the Abnormality's pliant, eager body.
There was a pressure to the side of his head. Pausing only for a moment, he realized one of the guns had been pushed to his temple. A soft, high pitched tone rang out.
"I cannot stay forever with you. Such would be no different from the captivity we all suffer already. I- mnngh- must leave eventually, and return from whence I came." The Abnormality's wings fluttered slowly as it began to lower the gun. But Yi Sang turned and took its hand in his, bringing the muzzle close. The desire to do something, anything with his mouth was becoming unbearable. He licked the underside of the gun's barrel, looking up at the Abnormality for a brief moment before taking it into his mouth, sucking on it as he might a cock. What other gratification could be given to such a creature but a show of trust? It is all I can do for you at this time, is it not? He knew this was an inadequate form of consolation. Nothing could ever be enough but the ability to actually return the many lost souls of the facility to where they came from. But they couldn't, just as he couldn't. All that remained was to celebrate the dead as they drifted in their freedom. Yi Sang felt himself approaching climax and took the gun barrel deeper, until it hit the back of his throat. If it killed him now out of some selfish desire to keep him, then so be it. Such was not unheard of for the bereaved, and such was the price he was willing to pay for his foolishness.
The Abnormality did not pull the trigger. It simply waited until Yi Sang moaned softly but urgently around its handgun, until his hips stuttered and his grip tightened, before pulling it away and gently pushing him off.
Breaking physical contact made the grief begin to dissipate immediately. While still feeling decidedly melancholy, Yi Sang found his mind clear again.
A bright, almost refreshing tone of the unseen bell sounded out. The work was complete. The Funeral of the Dead Butterflies handed the pair of guns, now sized for human hands again, to Yi Sang and stood up. He slowly stood up in kind. The difference in work, he realized, lay heavily in proximity.
Yi Sang checked the energy output on the way out. Just one enkephalin box produced. With a faint sense of embarrassment, he staggered back to the main room, guns in hand.