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Idia is 4- maybe younger- and he cannot remember having ever been hugged. He watches the screen during his “free time” that isn’t actually free, because the heir to S.T.Y.X. isn’t allowed to run or jump or be loud or be anything but perfectly still. Because it’s “unbecoming”. So Idia watches, quietly, and it’s not too bad. It could be worse- it can always be worse. That’s rule number one of his life- it’s gonna get worse, except nobody uses the word “gonna” and they tell him that he shouldn’t either.
But he has nothing better to do, so he watches, on the screen, the main character get embraced by her parents. It’s an emotional moment at the end of an episode, after she apologized for a mistake and her family forgave her, but rather that the joy of a happy ending, Idia can only feel- feel something curl in his gut. Later on, he’ll learn that this emotion is called envy, but Idia doesn’t know this yet. Idia has yet to learn a lot of things. What he does know is A) parents are supposed to hug their kids, B) it’s normal for kids to be hugged and C) Idia wants to be hugged. An impossibility, given that he sees his own parents maybe once a day, if that. Their shared time together consists of passing greetings, a few awkward questions about his day, and more typically, reminders of how he must behave (no yelling, no screaming, no running, no jumping, control your temper, control your flames, control yourself-). They’re more like… acquaintances. He doesn’t know their birthdays, what their favourite foods are- he doesn’t even know their names. Just… Mom and Dad. They know him, though- the endless, never ceasing cameras ensure it. They know him, he doesn’t know them, and they don’t talk and definitely don’t touch. End of story.
But Idia really, really wants a hug. Since his parents don’t even touch him, they’re both out for options. Now, Idia has learnt through his extensive research (read: watching the TV and trying not to cry) that kids can be hugged by people other than their parents, like teachers or friends. Idia has no friends, sadly, so that’s out, but he does have teachers. Unfortunately, he knows exactly what reaction he’d get if he asked for a hug (“Aren’t you too old for this?” “You need to be more mature.” “You’re the heir to S.T.Y.X. -act like it.”), so they’re out too.
What Idia does have, however, is a broken camera in a supply room and total command over the Charons.
He ducks around the corner, his hair dragging on the floor behind him, over twice his height. Marching up to the first Charon he sees idle, he waves it down. The Charon unit pauses before swiftly approaching, kneeling down at Idia’s level. Man, why can’t all adults do that? “Charon,” he orders, “follow me.”
The Charon nods. “Understood.” It doesn’t question him or his authority, doesn’t bother asking for a reason. It’s perfect in every conceivable way.
Idia turns on his heel, or at least tries to before tripping on his own ridiculously long flames. Thankfully, it catches him before he can fall, and after being safely deposited back on solid ground, Idia clears his throat like his Dad does when he feels awkward (which is all of the time when he’s around Idia) and sets out towards the closet. The Charon doesn’t comment on his near fall, and Idia is permitted to continue onwards with his pride intact.
The pair walk and walk and walk and eventually make it to the closet, where Idia directs the Charon inside, and then shuts the entrance without preamble. The Charon wait for its orders as Idia tries to steady himself. He wrings his hands, taking a deep breath. “C-Charon unit,” he begins, wincing at his stutter that he knows his instructors would frown at him for, “I order you to hug me.”
The Charon unit reaches down, down, down until they are “eye level” before its arms stretch out to encompass him. Before he knows it, the Charon has “hugged” him. There are all the components- arms wrapped around him, proximity, etc, but it’s not quite right. It’s uncomfortable, for one- thanks to their state of the art cooling technology, the Charon units are cold to the touch, and made of hard metal.
However, without Idia ordering it to do so, the Charon unit begins to heat its plating- not enough to burn, just enough to make it the same temperature as a human being. And it’s- Idia chokes on a sob and throws his arms around the Charon’s “neck”, clinging to it. He’s encompassed by warmth, pressed down on all sides, held so, so close. He feels safe. He finally feels safe. He sobs and sobs and sobs and he’s safe and he’s warm and nobody’s disappointed and mad at him and-
And he feels loved.
And it’s a lie. Because the Charon unit is only doing this because he ordered it to. But it’s a beautiful lie, one that he can’t help but cling to just as he clings to the Charon.
*
Idia had just turned 3 when his baby brother is born, but he’s 5 when he meets him for the first time. Ortho is much shorter than him, with cheery yellow eyes and short hair that flickers as they lock eyes. He can count on one hand the amount of times he’s seen his Dad’s flames, and his Grandma passed away when he was only three. It’s uncanny to see his flames on another person, but he knows what this means- that this boy is his brother. That they’re kin.
“You’re like me!” The boy, Ortho, cries, letting go of their Mom’s hand to run over to Idia, glomping him playfully. Dad mutters some kind of admonishment, but Ortho seems not to care, beaming up at Idia shamelessly.
“Y-yeah- I’m, I’m your big brother. We have the same- the same parents.” Idia stutters out, overwhelmed by Ortho’s sheer joy. How can one person be so happy? Even Mom’s optimism is tempted by exhaustion, but Ortho seems like a bundle of limitless energy. Maybe it’s because he’s young, maybe it’s a personality quirk- Idia doesn’t know. What he does know is that Ortho has only just met him, but he already looks at Idia like he hung all the stars in the sky.
“Cool! Can we play?”
Idia pauses, looking to his parents in the corner of the room for approval. Mom nods yes, so Idia gives his assent.
By the end of the day, they’re best friends and thicker than thieves. And the best part is that this isn’t a special occasion- no, Idia gets to have this for the rest of his life! Something, someone, for him. A friend, a brother, a companion. Ortho’s few belongings are moved into Idia’s room, and despite being offered a second bed, Ortho begs to sleep in the same bed as Idia.
Idia learns early on that Ortho is very touchy-feely, constantly hugging or touching Idia- even when they slept. And it is perfect. Ortho is so warm and cute and it makes Idia so happy- for once, there’s no yawning hunger in his skin. No longing, no wanting, because he has all he’ll ever want or need with him. For once, he’s happy. For all that people call Idia a genius, Ortho’s the smart one. He’s the one who makes the boring hallways turn to a labyrinth to explore, who changes playing hide and seek from the instructors into running from evil mafisos- Ortho’s the one who makes everything fun. He lights up Idia’s world, filling it with excitement and joy and warmth and love. The first time Ortho says “I love you”, Idia bursts into tears before he can say it back and Ortho- Ortho doesn’t chastise him like the researchers do, doesn’t say he’s too old to cry. Ortho’s the light of his life. Ortho makes Idia feel human. They hug and cuddle and hold hands and Idia feels happy. He is happy.
It doesn’t matter that they see their parents once a week sometimes. It doesn’t matter that they have no friends. It doesn’t matter that they have no futures, no sun, no sky- because what Idia does have is a brother who loves him. And that’s worth more than gold.
**
It doesn’t matter how old Idia is, because Ortho isn’t here. Ortho will never get any older. Ortho-
Ortho is dead. His brother is dead. And it is all Idia’s fault. Idia made this mess, so he needs to fix it. So-
So he needs to bring back Ortho. Because he can’t live in a world without his brother. Because, because, because, because, because, because-
Idia is waist deep in wires and various other mechanical components as he straddles the chassis of what will be Ortho’s new body. It’s much, much sturdier than he used to be, but all that means is that he’ll be safe. Idia will never have to go through this again.
…Idia will never get to feel his skin pressed against his brother’s again. But that’s- it’s not fine, but it’s worth it. It’s worth it. This will all be worth it. It has to be worth it. It has to be.
His brother is here and his brother is gone. His brother whispers encouragement in one ear and damms him in the other and his brother is silent and still and his brother lively and jumping with joy and his brother is right in front of him and his brother is dead. His brother. His. He has nobody else. Idia hasn’t seen anyone in over a year, let alone touched anyone, but his brother. Is. His brother is still touching him. His brother is still with him. He feels him. Feels his presence, the pressure. His hands, his small hands, are on his back. They are confronting and they are clawing and they aren’t real but Idia- Idia can make them real. Idia can fix it. Nii-chan can fix it, because Ortho said that, believed that Nii-chan can do anything, so- so he has to. So he will.
“Leave it to Nii-chan,” he says to nobody, says to his brother, says to himself. There is a weight on his back, like a body slumped on him. He is alone. His brother is here. His vision swims and his body aches and his head pounds and he has never felt better and he’s a corpse and he’s making a corpse, he’s making a body, he can’t do anything, useless, and he’s a god, he’s a god, he’s bringing his brother back from the dead and his brother is here. His brother. Ortho. His light, his fire, his brother, his hope, his guiding star, snuffed out, but not for long. Not if Idia has anything to say about that.
Idia is a necromancer and he’s a failure and he’s a god and he’s a failure and he’s a villain and he’s a failure and he’s a traitor and he’s a failure and he’s better than everyone and he’s a failure and he’s going to bring his brother back.
He collapses on top of his brother’s chassis, no heat nor heart beat and he sobs, broken like the remains of his brother’s body. He’s not allowed to cry for many reasons (he’s the heir to S.T.Y.X., he has no right to be sad when this is all his fault-) but he can’t stop it. “Sorry, sorry, sorry, Ortho, Nii-chan’s so pathetic, Nii-chan just can’t stop crying, I promise I’ll bring you back, I’m sorry for crying, I’m- ah-…” He’s crying all over Ortho’s chassis and he can’t wipe away his tears fast enough and he’s the worst brother is the whole world.
But it’s going to be okay. He’s going to fix it. Idia hugs his brother’s chest, head laying over where his heart will be and he can swear he hears it beating. He’ll fix this. His brother tells him that he can never undo what happens. His brother tells him he forgives him. His brother is silent.
Idia gets back to work.
***
Idia is 14 and the hunger in his skin has settled into place permanently, but that’s fine. If this is the price he pays for having his brother with him, then he pays it happily. He grins as he tosses his coinage to the ferryman, his brother with him as they leave the underworld, because Idia did it. He brought him back.
Ortho trails behind him as Idia is whisked off to his next lesson, static and too still- but that’s fine too. Everyone says- well, it doesn’t matter what everyone says. What Idia knows is that, surely, it isn’t easy coming back from the dead. Ortho just needs some time to adjust to being alive again, just like Idia needs time to get used to being around people again, to using the muscles he let atrophy just like his social skills. It’s fine. So what if he’s hesitant and cold sometimes? So what if he doesn’t have the same boundless energy and enthusiasm? Idia wouldn’t either if he got killed and came back!
But it’s still Ortho. It has to be.
And so what if his parents look at him with pity so raw it makes him want to die and scream and snap something and make something bleed and break something and cry and cry and cry-!
So what. He’s the one who did something, the one who brought him back while they sat on their asses and cried. Idia’s the one who pulled himself up by his bootstraps and made him a new body. Idia should be praised and adored because he did it, he brought him back! There should be talks of feasts and parties and prizes not of mental hospitals and medication. Him, crazy? He’s the only sane one here, can’t they see that Ortho is right there? He’s here’s, he’s here, he’s here-
“Nii-san?”
It takes Idia a moment to realize that he’s stopped in the middle of the hallway, Ortho tugging at his sleeve. His face is expressionless, but Idia can tell he seems worried. He’s his older brother, so obviously he can tell. “I-I’m okay, Ortho.”
Ortho shakes his head. “Your heart rate is elevated, and several of your other vitals as well. Your symptoms line up with those found in: emotional distress. May I offer a: hug?”
Idia takes a sharp breath- it’s rare for Ortho to offer affection now, and Idia is straight up unable to ask for it. Idia gives a curt nod, and Ortho hugs him.
It’s stiff and hard and awkward and unpracticed- but it’s his brother. He’s here. He’s in his arms and Idia- Idia feels safe and warm. He bends down, holding Ortho close desperately. He won’t let anything take his little brother away from him ever again. Not the clawing, cloying hands of death nor his own stupidity. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, but he refuses to let them fall. His brother is safe in his arms, and that’s all that matters.
A researcher passes by, but Idia pays him and his glares and the whisperings that he’s gone mad and the disappointment and the disapproval and the talk that he’s crazy and the pity no mind. He has his brother. Obviously, Ortho’s here, because Idia is holding him in his arms. Obviously, obviously, obviously.
It doesn’t matter that his hugs feel more like the hugs from the Charon units from back when he was a kid than Ortho’s hugs from before. It doesn’t matter that Ortho calls him Nii-san instead of Nii-chan. It doesn’t matter that Ortho doesn’t look quite right. It doesn’t matter that his parents didn’t check on him even once during those two years when Idia was resurrecting his little brother. It doesn’t matter if the hunger in Idia’s skin feels like a yawning chasm that threatens to swallow him whole. It doesn’t matter that Ortho’s touch no longer fills that chasm. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t.
It’s fine.
Idia fixed it, Idia made it better. Idia made Ortho better, brought him back like a hero and made him immortal. It’s more than fine, it has to be. What do all those shitty adults know anyways? They weren’t there for him, and they never have been. Idia hold Ortho tighter, ignoring the way his body digs into Idia’s skin in a way he knows will bruise. It doesn’t matter.
It’s all fine, no matter what anyone says.
Ortho’s back.
Idia’s fine.
****
Idia’s only a few months into being 19 and he is not fine. He, quite frankly, has likely never been fine. His life is a complete and utter mess. He’s depressed, has no hope for the future, no friends and hasn’t touched another human being for 8 years now. The yawning hunger curls around him like a second skin, almost a comfort if Idia decided to fuck with his head enough.
Honestly, he should be living the dream- his parents actually make the effort to talk to him, for one, but he can’t stand it. How is the supposed to react to them acting like they care, like they’ve ever cared, like they want a connection with him? A younger version of himself would’ve killed for that, and with a sense of dramatic irony, he technically has. But Ortho’s life is worth so much more than this, than this tenuous and strange bridge they’re trying to build. It’s fucking weird hearing them ask about his day or his hobbies or if he has any friends.
They’re finally trying to be actual parents and Idia doesn’t know what to do about that. He’s an adult, a grown man- all of their offerings are made for a child, a child whose childhood they missed, not for the world-weary and selfish adult that’s taken his place. They don’t see each other in person, and thank the gods for that, but they call. And it’s obnoxious. And he should be grateful, probably would’ve been if he was younger, if he was still overjoyed every time his Mom played cat and mouse with him through upgrades and counterattacks, when all he wanted was for Dad to look at him- but that’s not him anymore. The child that wanted a relationship with his parents is dead. He rotted away over the course of two years alone, rebuilding his dead brother. That boy and all his wishes are dead, and now his parents have to deal with the corpse he left behind, too full of pessimism and depression to give a flying fuck about anything that isn’t gaming or anime or his brother. And if his parents want someone different, then maybe they should’ve been there.
He’s being dramatic, he knows he’s being dramatic. His childhood is nothing compared to, like, Riddle’s of Ruggie’s or Jamil’s. He had money, food, and roof over his head. Nobody ever hit him. That’s fine. He was fine. He should be fine. But longing hangs over him like a veil, clouding his vision and he’s never been hugged by anyone other than his brother. And so he can’t stop himself from hating them, just a little bit. He knows they love him and that he loves them and that they love Ortho and that he loves Ortho and that Ortho loves them all but-
Idia sighs as he slumps against the wall.
No sorry could ever be enough. It’s not that Idia doesn’t want to forgive them, it’s just-
He doesn’t care. He can’t. He was never taught how. And that’s their fault.
So he leans against the wall and tries not to think about his parents or the way he asked the Charon units for hugs instead of them or the two years in his mausoleum of a room.
His face is in his hands, and he breathes and breathes and breathes until he feels more like a person again. Gods, why has he agreed to a video call right before he was set to meet with Azul to discuss potential upgrades to the lounge coffee machine?
But it’s over, and he’s right outside Azul’s door and all he has to do is open it. Easy peezy lemon go-squeezy.
Yeah, it takes him five whole fucking minutes to muster the will to knock on Azul’s door. Fuck, why did he agree to meet in person in the first place? OH, wait, he didn’t- his convincingly conniving little brother tricked him into it. He made him too smart for his own good.
Finally knocking, Idia is startled by Azul, who throws the door open and greets him with a smile. He’s far less formal than usual, dressed down to his dress shirt and pants, his sleeves rolled up and gloves absent. “Idia! Whatever took you so long? Come in, come in.” Azul welcomes him in, placing a hand on Idia’s shoulder (warm, solid, real) and brings him inside. Idia’s mind has gone blank, and he makes no move to resist, freezing up.
Azul’s saying something, probably pleasantries but Idia doesn’t know for sure- he’s hyper focused on the hand still on his shoulder, a beacon of warmth and support that he can’t help but lean into. It’s so overwhelmingly distracting that he forgets even his nerves, blinking stupidly as Azul calls his name. “Hello? Twisted wonderland to Idia? Are you feeling alright?”
Touch me, touch me, hug me, hold me, touch me is what Idia doesn’t say, even though he’s thinking it so loudly that it drowns out the beat of his own heart. “…’m fine. HP is at max.” Azul raises a single, elegantly plucked eyebrow and Idia sighs. “Okay, I just got off a video call with my parents and my HP is drained and I have a debuff.”
“Do you have a tense relationship with your parents, then?” Pries Azul, digging for clues in his usual manner, so slimy it almost makes Idia want to laugh. See, this is why he’s willing to say stuff like this around him- he doesn’t have to guess at what his reaction will be. Azul is wonderfully simple like that. For him, there are two categories of information: things he can exploit, and things he can’t. Idia always knows exactly what Azul wants from him.
So he nods along and leans discreetly into the second hand put on his other shoulder as Azul plays at being sympathetic. “I just- we aren’t parent and child. We just aren’t. We haven’t had any kind of relationship that isn’t a work one for years and years and my entire life, really, and now- and now they roll up like “heeeeyyy, we love you and want to know you, actually?” and I’m just supposed to- to what? Forgive them? Love them?” If nothing else, Azul does make for a good listener when Idia rants. He nods along, looking thoughtful and Idia can almost forget the fact that Azul will definitely use this against him- not that he cares. If he did care, he wouldn’t have told him in the first place. So he continues. “I don’t know how to talk to them. Like, “hi, hello, you’ve never hugged me as a child and I don’t know your real names but, yes, I definitely want to have long and awkward conversations with you”. Hell. No. Like, SYBAU already…”
Azul… actually looks surprised. “Your parents… never hugged you? Not once?” He looks distraught, grasping Idia even tighter on the shoulders and Idia thinks, yep, that’s it, this is how I die- overwhelmed by two hands on my shoulders. It’s so warm and comfortable and his heart is fluttering and it’s making him so happy and he wants more so badly-
… and Azul is expecting a response. Okay. Right. He can… hold a conversation. Probably. It’s Azul- the own person he can talk to. He can do this. He very consciously avoids looking at Azul’s hands as he speaks. “No…?”
“Family? Friends? Idia, have- have you never been hugged?” Azul looks alarmed and shaken, now gripping him like he’s afraid Idia’s gonna evaporate into sea foam.
“My brother’s hugged me before, yeah.”
“Anyone else?” Azul presses, brows furrowed. “Any adults?”
“No…?”
Why was Azul being so weird about this? He looks devastated, his gaze so full of pity that Idia nearly flinches. He wants to curl up into a ball and hide, wants to squirm and cry and leave but Azul holds him tight. “Idia.” He says, serious as a grave. “I am going to hug you now.”
“-!” And before Idia can bother mustering a response, Azul has pulled him into a hug. Warm arms wrap around him, not too loose nor too tight, while Azul places Idia’s head in the crook of his neck, Idia blinking in surprise. Surrounded, Idia is surrounded by warmth and comfort and affection and he can smell Azul’s cologne and the smell of seawater and he’s losing his mind. He stiffens from the shock as all this warmth and sensation hits him at once, but against his will, he can feel himself start to relax in Azul’s arms. He can’t even bring himself to think about the price he’ll inevitably pay once this is over- he feels so- so safe.
Arms shaking, he reaches out and wraps his arms around Azul’s torso, pressing their fronts together as he almost sobs from the happy, soft warmth of it all. He practically melts into the hug, Azul holding him as Idia gets his first real taste of human contact in eight years. It’s so warm and happy and peaceful and Idia doesn’t even have words to describe it. It’s utter bliss, like when he’s so cozy in the morning that he can’t even get out of bed, but a thousand times better. Tears well in his eyes as he’s overwhelmed by what he knows logically to be a simple release of hormones.
Azul- Azul is rubbing his back? And Idia can’t help himself from making little sounds, little “ah…”s and the like, letting the wonderful warmth and safety of Azul’s grasp lull him to heaven. This is it. This is everything his body has been screaming for the entirety of his life. The thing his body needed, begged for even. The yawning hunger is fed.
Idia is 19, and he is hugged for the first time in his life by someone who is not his brother. Idia is 19, and he is held.