Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Builder Brothers’ Pizza. Elliot looks up at the sign with a sigh, straightening his visor. His footsteps hit the asphalt of the parking lot without so much as a tap, despite how heavy his hatred for the day coming was; After all, another day, another shift with…

He pushes open the door, flipping the sign to ‘Open’ and spotting his dad behind the counter. The man waves, and Elliot waves back, watching as the man dissapears into a door marked as employees-only. Elliot groans, digging the heel of his palms into his eyes until he sees dark dots speckling his vision. He preferred working delivery, but as the employee of the month- well, more like the business in general- and working a severely understaffed job, he doesn’t always get a choice.

With Builder Brothers’ cashier- his sister-off sick, Elliot yet again had to work at the cash register, which, normally, wouldn’t be that difficult of a task, except; Work is never normal for Elliot.

“And… a medium sausage pizza.”

Elliot adds the pizza onto the customer’s order, a sickeningly-sweet customer service smile on his face that contradicted the mind-numbing boredom he felt. He attempts to ring up the man’s total when the screen flicks to an image that Elliot knew all too well. A red figure stands- smugly, Elliot knew- with a shirt advertising team c00lkidd, text plastered all over the screen where the navigational buttons used to be.

Elliot huffs in frustration, a long, drawn out sound. He looks up to see c00lkidd in a corner, hand over his mouth, visibly shaking with giggles. Of course, Elliot had not once had a day without being pestered by the recalcitrant kid, and he knew better than to even dream of even one shift of peace.

“I’m sorry, sir, I’ll be with you in a moment,” Elliot breathes in exasperation, his eye twitching with barely-contained rage. He wastes no time in making his way over to where c00lkidd crouched. The sight of the kid trying to stifle his laughter while the pizzeria’s reputation was actively deteriorating fuelled Elliot’s rage, and he could practically feel steam coming out of his ears.

“c00lkidd,” Elliot growls. c00lkidd giggles; “Yes?” he asks innocently, batting his eyelashes with a smile of faux concern. “You know you’re banned from here. For life,” Elliot gestures towards the door, and c00lkidd nods, standing up with surprisingly little resistance, walking out without a word. Elliot’s eyebrow quirks in surprise, but who was he to complain about his job being made easier?

The customer looks on with curiosity as Elliot returns to the register, writing him a physical cheque and apologising profusely. The customer, seemingly amused, hands over the money and walks out. Elliot follows him with his eyes, his gaze falling on c00lkidd still outside, looking into the pizzeria with tear-lined eyes while practically vibrating with barely-contained laughter.

Elliot looks back at the register, which still donned the image of the young exploiter, and speedwalks while keeping a work-appropriate pace without hesitation. The second Elliot stepped toward c00lkidd, the kid doubled over, laughing to the point he seemed he was struggling to breathe. A stupid png of him could not possibly elicit such a reaction, and Elliot knew better than to think he would stop there. Turning around, he’s met with the sight of the menu boards above the register completely altered.

Instead of the usual pizzas, like sausage, cheese, and pepperoni, were different poo related items. ‘Sausage’ now reads ‘Sewage; now with extra poop!’, while Pepperoni reads ‘Pooperoni’, along with other dumb childish puns.
“Really?!” Elliot hisses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re like, 10, there's no way you still find this funny,” he shakes his head in disappointment, dropping his hand to his side, a sigh falling from his lips. “I’m calling your dad.” Elliot pulls out his mobile, which, usually, he wouldn’t be allowed to use on the clock, but he was sure this an exception. c00lkidd cocks his head, absentmindedly swaying his tail behind him.

As the ringing goes on, Elliot’s foot tapping grows more frequent, and his arms fold tighter over his chest. Unsurprisingly, 007n7 picks up on the last ring, somehow always picking up calls late despite having nothing better to do. c00lkidd looks on quietly as the conversation plays out.

“Elliot! Hey.. you don’t happen to be calling to ask me about my day do you?”

“007n7. Come here right now and pick up your kid.”

“I don’t know where ‘here’-”

“007n7 I’m not playing games with you.”

“Right. I’ll be over in a minute.”

Elliot hangs up the call, turning to c00lkidd with a scowl. “You don’t have any friends you could spend time with instead of making people’s lives harder?” He rolls his eyes when all he receives is a shrug of the kid’s shoulders, and he growls with frustration and impatience. “Of course you don’t.” c00lkidd winces, visibly deflating at the backhanded comment.

It takes 007n7 10 minutes to arrive, despite having a teleporter on hand at all times. Was Elliot surprised? Not really. Irresponsible enough to leave his kid unsupervised enough that he goes and vandalises peoples’ workplaces goes hand in hand with.. Well, everything that 007n7 does. The man appears out of thin air a few feet away, walking over rather slowly.

“Sorry for the wait,” 007n7 smiles nervously, scratching the back of his neck while avoiding Elliot’s scrutinising gaze. “You want me to take him back home?” Elliot narrows his eyes. “I want you to fix my pizzeria, for starters,” 007n7 cringes. “Then, you can teach your kid to… I don't know, not vandalise places he doesn’t pay for?” 007n7’s face drops, and his shoulders droop as he walks inside, “Right, right. I promise this won’t happen again.” Elliot rolls his eyes, “You always say that, and look where we are now. Make sure that this time, you keep your word.”

The cleanup, surprisingly, didn’t take that long. 007n7 had finally put himself to good use, wiping c00lkidd’s pranks from the store in less than 5 minutes. Stepping outside, he isn't even granted so much as a nod of approval from Elliot, who is radiating annoyance.

c00lkidd clings onto 007n7’s arm as the man pulls out his gui, wearing an expression of guilt that Elliot knew all too well meant nothing. 007n7 opted to stay quiet as the c00lgui loaded, head hung in shame. c00lkidd, on the other hand, was grinning mischievously at Elliot right before the teleport finished.

Tch, the kid never changed.

Elliot’s shift ended an hour later, and he was more than relieved to finally be going home. He couldn’t have stuck the key in the ignition any quicker, nor could he have followed the speed limit any faster. The car ride back was short, and that may or may not have been due to Elliot running a few amber lights, but he’d never admit that.

Tossing his visor onto his kitchen island and shrugging off his uniform was freeing, and he wasted no time into getting into the shower.

Scrubbing off the day’s events was always Elliot’s most loved part of his routine, and after brushing his teeth, he collapsed onto his bed, head hitting the pillow with a dull thump. Elliot stared up the ceiling, mind replaying the day’s events- an exhausting task.

c00lkidd had been terrorising Builder Brothers’ pizzeria for close to a year now, following in his dad’s footsteps, and something told Elliot that he wouldn’t be stopping any time soon. The kid was annoying, persistent, and friendless, and Elliot didn’t have a hard time imagining why.

To be fair, it wasn’t c00lkidd’s fault that he was raised like this. Maybe, Elliot wondered, if c00lkidd hadn’t shown up on 007n7’s doorstep, the exploiter would have eventually stopped messing with the pizzeria and left Elliot to work in peace.
Just his luck that the exploiter that griefed his workplace had been given a kid out of the blue and raised him to be exactly like his father. Elliot cursed 007n7’s lazy parenting, scoffing something along the lines of “Can’t raise a damn kid right, if you knew you weren’t fit for parenting, you could’ve given him to someone who was.” He almost, almost, felt bad for thinking such a thing, but he was quickly reminded of who he was thinking it about, and all feelings of guilt or anything similar dissipated.

Tomorrow, luckily, was Saturday, and Elliot couldn’t wait to finally have a break from c00lkidd, hoping whoever was unlucky enough to be working on the weekend would be capable of dealing with the incorrigible menace; If Elliot was off the job, it wouldn’t be his problem anymore. Regardless of how arrogant Elliot might sound if he said that out loud, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it.

The air in the room grows warmer as his eyelids grow heavier, and he can feel the weight in his limbs falling away.

Elliot is lulled into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

Gravel crunches under his feet as Elliot walks into the pizzeria. Inside, the lights are already on, blindingly bright.Thankfully, he doesn’t have to work the register or with the general public, but he’d pick the register over the chef any time.

Work was slow and laborious, and Elliot couldn’t be any more thankful for his break. He informed the manager on-duty that he was having lunch, and grabbed his sandwich before heading outside. He never really bothered to make extravagant, nutritious meals for work, rather opting to slap whatever ingredients he had in his cupboard between two slices of bread. This morning, Elliot had slept through his alarm, causing him to have way less preparation time for his meal, leading to him having a sandwich with a slice of room-temperature cheese, and a warm salami stick.

Elliot falls back onto the hard-wood bench with a thump, his back hitting the seat at an uncomfortable angle. His sandwich is messily wrapped, and messily opened, the glad-wrap being pulled off with urgency over preciseness. 

Sinking his teeth into the semi-stale bread, Elliot is hit with a wave of peace. After 3 hours of lathering sauce over dough- his least favourite job at the pizza place- he could finally sit down for half an hour and… well, do nothing. Unlike usually, when a certain someone would come and disturb his working, and- wait, where’s c00lkidd?

Elliot lifts his gaze from his sad sandwich and up to the parking lot, the parking lot that was perfectly intact- albeit with a few potholes- but intact nonetheless. 

That’s weird.

c00lkidd was usually at the pizzeria by now, causing some sort of ruckus, yet when Elliot walked past the cash register on his way outside, his sister sported the same unimpressed look she always wore when working. Maybe, Elliot would be granted a moment of reprieve, free from c00lkidd’s pranks for a day.

He knew better than to hope for that. Elliot’s sure c00lkidd is bound to show up some time during his shift, usual mischief and antics.

Elliot’s hands move across the bench with practised precision, spreading toppings over the pizza with minimal effort. Each time he removes a pizza from an oven to replace it with a new one, he fully expects to see one of c00lkidd’s clones inside, intended to scare him half to death with the idea that he just burnt a child alive, yet, it never happened.

Elliot clocks out nothing short of dumbfounded by the lack of vandalism done to his work over the day, an extraordinary feat. His job is quite boring when it’s done constantly, and he counts himself lucky that he gets the privilege of switching between tasks often.
Arriving home, Elliot decides to treat himself to an early sleep- or at least an attempt at sleeping- due to the lack of incident at work.

Its half past 2 when Elliot finally leaves work, the gruelling work week leaving him wanting nothing more than to go home and lie down. His foot pushes lightly on the accelerator as he cruises down his road, a comfortable silence surrounding him like a cocoon.

Elliot loved his shift schedule, always leaving work just after 2, meaning very little to no traffic on the roads- ideal after a day of dealing with the general public. He nears his house, pulling into his driveway and pulling the brake. It wasn’t anything majorly fancy, but his home was definitely comfortable enough for him to live in alone. He almost drops his keys while attempting to open his front door, making a beeline straight for the couch and dropping onto it, not even bothering to remove his shoes.

All week, his work had been… well, uneventful- a stark contrast to the routine he had built over the past year. Not one disturbance from c00lkidd was very odd, and Elliot found himself wondering if 007n7 had finally decided to step up and take c00lkidd’s gui back, possibly his first responsible decision as a parent. Or, the other option, something had happened to c00lkidd as a result of his misdeeds, causing him to be unable to annoy Elliot for the week. 

Good riddance. Elliot shuns the thought from his mind the second it forms, reminding himself that, regardless of how annoying c00lkidd is, he is, in fact, 10, and didn’t deserve any harm to come his way, no matter how much it would benefit Elliot.

Maybe c00lkidd had a change of heart, and decided to finally leave Elliot alone?

He knows its bullshit, the kid had been ‘scolded’ for his misdoings countless times in the past, and one more telling-off likely wouldn’t change the prankster’s mind.

He hopes that the more permanent option- the removal of his gui- was the cause of the kid’s absence, but the earlier thought of something happening to c00lkidd plagued Elliot’s mind with worry, and he couldn’t help but act on it.

Pulling out his phone, he brings up his chat with Guest 1337, typing out a quick chat that would hopefully quell his worries.

‘Hey man, you haven’t happened to hear anything from 007n7 about c00lkidd over the past week? He’s been leaving me alone at work.’

Elliot stares at the screen as he waits for a response, surprised as Guest’s chat bubble appears almost instantaneously.

‘Nah. You know I don’t talk to him. Wouldn’t being left alone be a good thing? Much less work for you. ’

Elliot scrunches his nose.

‘What if something happened to him?’

Guest’s reply comes as quick as the last.

‘ I don’t think anything has, maybe he’s just grounded or something. You shouldn’t be worrying about this, I’m sure it’s nothing.’  

Elliot sighs, typing out some quick response about Guest being right before shutting off his phone. Of course, it was more likely that the man was right than he wasn’t, but Elliot still wasn’t convinced. 007n7 wasn’t the kind of father to take something like that away from his kid, and he certainly wasn’t the kind of father to ground his kid either. Elliot lets his phone fall from his hand onto the couch.

It's early Sunday morning, and Elliot is dragging himself out of bed and pulling on his shoes. Why? The nagging urge to know why c00lkidd was absent during the week. He knows its stupid, he knows that the kid is (probably) okay, but he can’t bring himself to think about anything else.

Wolfing down his cereal, Elliot almost forgets to lock his door on his way to his car in his rush to know the truth. He shouldn’t know where 007n7 lives, let alone have the man’s address memorised, but he does, and it’s come in handy to help Elliot arrive in less than 5 minutes.

Maybe a few road rules were broken on the way, but he didn’t care in the slightest. He flings open his car’s door the second his brakes are on, jumping out and walking up to the stoop and raising his hand to knock on the heavy wood door. The knocks fall with a loud echo, and Elliot wonders if he’s waking the man. 

A few seconds pass without response, and Elliot wastes no time in knocking again. No response follows, and he wonders if it’s because 007n7 is hesitant to open the door to unknown knocking in the early hours of a Sunday, and he can’t say he blames him. Taking a deep breath, Elliot calls out.

“007n7? It’s me, Elliot. I uh… c00lkidd hasn’t been annoying me all week, I wanted to know if that’s because you confiscated his gui?” He listens hopefully for 007n7’s voice on the other side of the door, but no sound comes. He begins to doubt 007n7’s presence in the home, but reminds himself its 9 in the morning, where did the man have to go? Plus, a light inside the house was on, and Elliot wasn’t going to give up this easy.

“007n7, I’m going to look for a key, and you have until I find it to tell me to leave.” Elliot hesitantly steps away from the door, looking down to spot a welcome mat under his feet. It was a very obvious place for a key, but it was worth a look anyway.

Elliot peels the mat off the floor, revealing a thick layer of grime, but no key. He grunts in surprise, and is about to return the mat to its resting place when he spots a reflection on the bottom- a key. The thing looks ancient, despite the house being only a couple of decades old, and is engraved with 1s and 0s. Elliot snorts, of course the exploiter would have a key with binary code on it. He rips the tape off, grasping the key between his pointer and thumb, standing up and straightening the mat.

The lock beckons to him, encouraging him to stick the key in and unlock it; Elliot would do just that, except- the door is already unlocked.

Chapter Text

Elliot’s heart skips a beat at the realisation, but an unlocked door doesn’t automatically mean something bad happened. Most likely, 007n7 was tired the night before and forgot to lock his door. 

Yeah, that must be it.

Elliot pushes the door, which falls away eagerly to reveal a long, stretching hallway leading to a kitchen, illuminated by a warm glow, seemingly the origin of the light visible from outside. The only sound throughout the house is the slight buzzing of electricity, and Elliot prays that his gut is twisting from the lack of a nutritious breakfast.

“007n7..” Elliot’s voice cracks as he calls out, hesitantly taking a step further into the house. He doesn’t even know why he called out at this point, as the silence that follows is oppressing. 

Once Elliot had stepped away from the cold, crisp, outside air, the warmth of the house hit him like a brick. A thick layer of humidity blanketed the area, something sure to induce a headache. His feet are lead-heavy, carrying him to the kitchen despite something in his head screaming at him to turn around.

Dirty dishes sat untouched in the sink, caked with an orange (of what Elliot assumed to be) sauce. 007n7 had undoubtedly needed to leave the house for some reason, using his gui, and had forgotten to lock the door and clean the dishes. Any normal person would choose to not do those things in an act of urgency, just like 007n7 had experienced.

A voice in his head nags that something’s wrong, but he shoos it away with a shake of his head. 007n7 was out of the house, he was sure…

He stalks slowly out of the kitchen, taking in the sight of a surprisingly tidy living room, and multiple doors leading to Spawn knows where. The house looked, well, normal, for someone like 007n7. Among the copious amount of doors was one painted bright red, text messily taped on reading: ‘c00lkidd’s room: keep out! (except dad)’, which Elliot didn’t quite understand, considering the kid’s dad was likely the only person to ever go into the house; let alone c00lkid’s room.

Until today. Elliot must’ve been the first person to see the inside of the exploiter’s house, and it was… clean?

A door, furthest from where Elliot was currently standing, catches his attention- it’s slightly ajar, with a soft glow emanating from what he could only guess was a lamp. He knows with every fibre of his being that this door contained answers; to what- Elliot wishes he knew.

The tension in the house grows rapidly as Elliot cautiously creeps closer to the door, the pounding in his heart growing deafening.

“ 007n7? ” The name escapes his mouth as a whisper, feeble and practically inaudible. He waits for the inevitable silence that follows, reaching out a hand to the door, feeling it practically buzzing and begging to be opened.

Energy seems to grow restless around Elliot’s head, dancing and twirling and telling him to open the door.

A lump forms in Elliot’s throat, the hair on the back of his neck standing up, pulse throbbing in his temples. His fingertips make contact with the door, leaving a trail of sweat as he fights to push it open. It isn’t the door that resists, but his arm, locking tight in place as if pleading with him to leave the house while he could.

He’s come too far to back out now.

The door swings open without so much as a creak, and Elliot wishes he’d listened to his gut. 

The doorway is directly across from a large bed, the only other decoration in the room being a full-length mirror to the right of the doorway, and a small bedside table pushed against the bed.

It isn’t the lazy decorating that gets him.

The headboard was painted with a messy splattering of crimson, blood.

007n7 sits propped up against the headboard, leaning back, head resting in the middle of the bloodstain. His chin now had a gaping hole, skin parted to reveal a dark pit tunneling through the man’s head. Red lines had dried all the way down his neck, stopping at the collar of his shirt that had clearly soaked up a large portion of the gorey liquid.

007n7’s arms rest by his sides, his right palm containing a small pistol. On his lap sits a framed picture of him and c00lkidd arm-in-arm, bearing smiles that dared to split their faces in half.

Elliot’s hand flies to his mouth, and he stifles the urge to throw up his breakfast all over the floor. The air in the house grows unbearably hot, pressing down on Elliot at such force he feels he’d collapse. The sight of the man dead on his bed was too much, and Elliot’s feet pound heavily on the floor as he runs back out the front door. 

The cold air hits his face, yet it does anything but refresh him. He doubles over, hands on knees, and begins to dry heave. Elliot’s lungs are empty, sharply inhaling, yet managing to not intake any air. His head pounds like his brain is trying to escape his skull, his hand reaching for his heart that was beating inhumanely fast. Hair falls down from the sides of his face, and his clothes suddenly feel too tight around him.

He falls to the floor, knees hitting the concrete heavily, hands slapping against the floor. He’s choking, coughing up the contents of his lungs. The memory of the man’s lifeless corpse flashes in his mind, forcing Elliot to curl into himself, hugging tightly.

Everything’s too loud, too quiet, it’s too hot, it’s too cold, he’s numb, he feels everything. The cool concrete presses comfortingly against his side, but he can’t register anything through the intense shock consuming his every being.

Elliot isn’t sure how long he had lay on 007n7’s doorstep before he finally dragged himself to sit up, pulling out his phone with shaking hands. He unlocks it with his thumbprint, fingers shaking as he brings up the phone app. He hovers over Guest 1337’s number, but he can’t bring himself to click call.

Elliot drops his phone, clutched in his hand, to his chest, leaning his head back against the railing of 007n7’s stoop. He draws in a long, shaking breath, mind running through the events of the morning.

007n7 was… annoying, to say the least, but Elliot didn’t hate the man so much as to wish such a fate upon him. The suicide was undoubtedly linked to c00lkidd’s disappearance, and it didn’t take a genius to put together that 007n7 wouldn’t live without his kid.

Elliot can’t stay here anymore. Even here, sitting on the concrete, he can feel death leaching out of the man’s body, snaking towards him. He pushes himself onto his feet, wobbling dangerously as he straightens upright. He can’t bring himself to shut the front door, instead turning away and walking to his car.

Each step falls unevenly on the ground, making Elliot feel like the ground was made of quicksand. He isn’t sure he’s safe to drive in this condition, but he’s sure he can’t be near 007n7’s house for a moment longer. He can barely control his hand, feeling as if he’s about to faint again, but he eventually manages to stick the key in the ignition.

From the moment he pulls out of the driveway, Elliot’s mind is elsewhere. Where exactly, he doesn’t know. He can’t grasp any thoughts through the swirling mess of mist in his mind.

He doesn’t know how many red lights he runs, how many turn signals he missed, or how long it took him, but he’s home. Entering his house, consciousness hits him like a brick. He stumbles to his shower, turning the hot water up as high as it can go, his hand not making contact with the cold water. He doesn’t hesitate to step in, neglecting to shed his clothes.

The water doesn’t burn enough. Elliot can still feel the air in 007n7’s house clinging to his skin, and he isn’t sure it’ll leave anytime soon. Water pools in the crevice between his thighs and stomach, and he reaches out to wrap his arms around his knees, bringing them closer to his chest. 

He should’ve listened. He should’ve just stayed home. He should’ve turned around when he saw the door unlocked.

The bathroom grows white with steam, condensation lining the dim-lit walls. The fan turns on, attempting and failing to dissipate the mist shrouding the room. A clear image of 007n7’s corpse flashes in Elliot’s mind, and this time he isn’t quick enough to stop the vomit from escaping him.

It swirls as it falls down the drain, the chunky brown substance leaving a burning sensation in the roof of Elliot’s mouth. He fights to keep down more, clapping his hand to his mouth. 

He’d been in the shower for at least 10 minutes now, and Elliot might have enough money to live alone comfortably, but he couldn’t afford to pay for running water without it cleaning him.

He lifts his hand up to the tap as if it’s the heaviest thing in the world, managing to turn it off. He crawls out of the shower onto the mat, dripping water all over the tile floor. He sees his phone on the counter, crawling towards it, he feels as if the floor was falling further from him the closer he got. Elliot reaches the counter, grasping the phone in his hand and falling back down onto the mat. He pulls a towel over himself, curling up on his side. 

Yet again, he decides to call Guest. This time, he manages to press the button, leaving a wet fingerprint on the screen. The phone rings, once, twice- Elliot feels the bile rising up his throat again, he can’t call Guest. Not now. 

He hangs up, ignoring Guest’s follow-up call and texts and letting his phone drop to the floor. He wraps his arms tightly around his torso, squeezing his eyes shut until he could see particles dancing behind his eyelids. 

He can feel his mind drifting further from his body, until he passes out- a sopping mess in the sauna of a bathroom.

Chapter Text

A morning alarm dances through the air, snaking into Elliot’s ears and twirling through his brain. It calls to him, urging him to get up and ready for work.

Elliot stirrs from unconsciousness, feeling… surprisingly normal (other than the image of someone’s corpse implanted in his brain). His side isn’t sore or aching from sleeping on the bathroom floor, and his clothes are surprisingly dry. The towel wrapped around him is providing an abnormal amount of warmth and comfort.

Elliot opens his eyes, being met with the ceiling of his bedroom. 

What the hell?

He knows he didn’t get up during the night to get into bed, let alone change into drier clothes and go through the effort of falling back asleep. Did someone come into his house while he was unconscious? The thought makes him sick.

Maybe it was Guest 1337, worried about Elliot’s call and deciding to come over and see if he was alright, only to find him passed out on the bathroom floor. Surely he would’ve woken if he was being manhandled and moved around? Guest would wake him up if he was worried. He’d ask Elliot if he was okay, if he needed anything, how long he wanted Guest to stay.

Elliot fumbles his phone, dropping it only to catch it by the charging chord. He didn’t remember plugging it in to charge the previous night, but then again, it was the least of his concerns. He reels it up, switching on the screen and disabling the alarm.

A sudden wave of nausea courses through Elliot, keeling him over. He jumps out of bed, running to the bathroom with urgency. Inside, he falls to his knees in front of the toilet, hands clutching the bowl to the point his knuckles grow white.

His head falls forward, and the vomit spews out of him aggressively. It coats the inside of the toilet, bubbling and spitting. Elliot sits there for a few minutes, forehead resting on the toilet bowl regardless of how unsanitary it may be. 

Eventually, he stands up, knees wobbling as he struggles to get upright. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, stumbling clumsily out of the bathroom. His footsteps fall uneven on the way back to his bedroom.

Elliot finds his phone amidst the sea of blanket shrouding his bed. It’s still on from before his trip to the toilet, unread messages lining his screen. He checks the time; 08:09 on Monday, the…

12th.

Great. On top of Elliot having seen a corpse of a man he once knew, his phone was broken. Yesterday, his phone had displayed the correct date, but it was a week behind now. It should’ve read the 19th, he really did need to have this checked out.

Oddly, the messages displayed on his screen were the same as the ones on the 12th. Of course his phone found new ways to malfunction at the time he needed it to work the most. He couldn’t go to work like this, not today. He texts his dad that he won’t be in today, then double checks his notifications.

Sure enough, Noob’s goodnight text from the 11th sat untouched, along with a reminder for work and a notification regarding the cloudy weather for the week. 

Was this a prank?

His reminder for work was on every weekday, and it wasn’t weird for the weather to be the same as last week. But Noob? Noob isn’t the sort of person to participate in something like this. Maybe he came over when Guest 1337 told him about the call, moved him to his bedroom, and set his phone back by a week.

He wouldn’t do that… would he?

No matter how innovative the initiator of the prank may be, they can’t alter Google in itself. Elliot opens the search bar, shakily typing ‘ what’s the date’.

The screen loads, before displaying the date in large text.

August 12th.

Elliot stares blankly at his screen, mind putting together the very obvious pieces. His eyes flick across the screen, lip quivering. Great, even Google was in on the joke. Jokes are supposed to be funny , Elliot thinks crossly, eyebrows knitting together in frustration.

A weak voice in his mind supplies a thought, one that is shunned as quickly as it comes.

Elliot didn’t travel back in time. Time travel was some dumb made up concept to give people the illusion that the mistakes they make don’t matter. Elliot isn’t stupid enough to believe in time travel; Who is?

…

If it really is the 12th, that must mean what happened yesterday never happened at all. It would explain what’s going on with Elliot’s phone right now, and how his body felt completely fine upon waking up, but he doesn’t need an explanation for those. Neither Noob nor Guest came into his house last night- it was himself, getting cleaned up and going back to bed to pretend nothing happened.

The thought comes back, louder this time, insisting he did go back to last week. Elliot scoffs, but his mind wavers, really considering it. If he really did travel back in time, it would mean that 007n7 was still alive, considering the corpse on Sunday looked quite fresh.

He can’t bring himself to check. He won’t go back to 007n7’s house, at least not any time soon.

Elliot falls back onto his bed, arms spread by his sides. He stares at the ceiling, and it stares back. His chest feels heavy, thoughts bouncing around in his brain restlessly. He wishes he had listened to himself yesterday, the house felt off from the start. If only he had listened. 007n7 would still be dead, yes, but Elliot wouldn’t have to live with the sight for the rest of his life.

He needs to text Noob.

‘Hey man, have you heard anything recently from 007n7 or c00lkidd?’
Noob sees the message instantly. 

‘No. Have they finally left you alone at work?’

If only he knew.

‘Yeah’

‘ Isn’t that a good thing? Exploiters are pretty unpredictable anyway’

Elliot’s heart aches. On any other occasion, the pair leaving Elliot alone would have been a blessing, but knowing the real reason why, he couldn’t bring himself to agree.

‘I have to go. Talk later’

Elliot shuts off his phone, not waiting for a response from Noob. It pings in his hand, but he just places it back on his bedside table. His limbs feel heavy, pulling him further down into the sea of sheets. He falls into a state of subconsciousness.

How long Elliot had lied in bed, he didn’t know. He feels an overwhelming need to text Guest, to apologise for ringing him and hanging up. Of course, Guest wouldn’t understand, since that had happened a week from now, but it didn’t matter- he missed him.

‘Guest’

Yet again, his message is seen the moment it is sent. Guest takes a minute to type, presumably going over different things to say. He decides upon one after a painful moment of wait.

‘Why aren’t you at work?’

Elliot grimaces.

‘I’m sick. I’m pretty sure it’s contagious’

‘Do you want me to get you anything? Any medicine or food stuff?’

Of course he’d ask that. Not one moment went by where the man thought of himself before others, and despite how nice the man was, Elliot did think that it could harm him one day.

‘No. I’m fine, I have medication here. I do want to know if you’ve seen 007n7 recently? I know it’s weird to ask but he hasn’t been around’

‘Yeah I saw him. He was at the store at like 10. Dunno why he bothers buying stuff when he can easily create it’

Elliot’s eyes widen at the text. 007n7 was alive. 

‘Was he okay?? Did he seem sad or anything?’

‘Why are you asking this? Are you sure you’re okay? Don’t you hate 007n7? Of course he was fine, and I don’t think he seemed very sad. I wouldn’t know though, I didn’t talk to him’

He breathes out a sigh of relief at Guest’s words, typing out a quick thanks before shutting off his phone and collapsing onto the bed. He knew he was right, he imagined what happened yesterday. 007n7 is fine, he’s alive, he’s not planning on killing himself, all is well.

You know it isn’t true.

He knows it isn’t true. What he saw on Sunday morning was real, he drove to 007n7’s house, he walked in on his corpse, what he saw really happened. Travelling back in time, though, did not seem real.

What else could’ve happened? Despite how rational Elliot tries to be, all trains of thought carry him to the same destination.

It’s the 12th again, and if Elliot’s gut is right, which it had been his whole life- despite his wishing it wasn’t- the events that took place last time it was the 12th were bound to happen again.

And this time, he’d make it right.

Chapter Text

Elliot hadn’t gotten even a second of sleep last night. He had stayed awake, unable to stop thinking about the past (?) week, and how 007n7 was alive, somehow. He knows that ‘somehow’ is time travel, but he’d never say it aloud.

Last week, he had ignored the signs hinting at 007n7’s suicide, waiting until it had actually happened to go check on him. He didn’t know the exact time the trigger was pulled, but when he -painfully- recalls the scene of the man on the bed, he doesn’t remember a smell, and he’s sure that if he had gone up to the corpse it would still hold some warmth.

007n7 must’ve pulled the trigger late Saturday night, or early Sunday morning. This time, Elliot had prior knowledge, and would prevent it from happening. No matter how much he hated 007n7 and c00lkidd’s vandalising of his workplace, no one deserved to go through such a fate. He has one chance to fix this, one time rewind to prevent the inevitable.

He’ll succeed. He has to. 

Elliot had already notified his boss that he wouldn’t be coming in for work in the early morning, having planned to visit 007n7 while he was still alive. Not that Elliot would let him kill himself, of course. He’ll visit him at a normal time of day, not 8 in the morning. For the time being, Elliot would get ready, and attempt to hide the fact he had not slept a wink all night.

He stands up, gripping the wall as he slinks to his bathroom. He splashes water on his face, accidentally making eye contact with himself in his mirror. He looks, well, horrible, to put it simply. His hair is tousled, deep bags hang below his eyes, which are tinted red. A thin layer of grime coats his face, and his shirt is somehow around the wrong way.

Gross.

When was the last time he had a shower? Sunday, he assumes. Sliding out of his clothes, he doesn’t wait for the water to warm up before stepping in. The cold falls onto his hair, snaking in toward his scalp, before running down onto his shoulders. Water encapsules him, pinning his hair to the back of his neck. 

Elliot pours shampoo onto his head straight from the bottle, scratching it messily into his hair. He lathers himself with soap, rinsing it off immediately. He’s itching to see 007n7, something he never thought he’d experience, but then again, when did he see himself doing anything but work.

The water had only just turned off as Elliot dived for a towel, lopsidedly drying himself off. He scrambles to put on clothes, rushing back to his bedroom to grab his phone.

08:54?!

It’s fine. 007n7 would surely be awake at 9, and the car ride would take around 5 minutes. God, he seemed desperate, but who can blame him? If it’s possible to prevent someone’s suicide, why not give it a try?
Elliot grips the wheel white-knuckled, attempting to drive on the speed limit, to which he was struggling. He can see the man’s house nearing, looking at his console to check the time.

9:01. Perfect. He pulls into 007n7’s driveway, sweat beading on his temples. What would he say?
“Oh, hey 007n7, the man I hate, I’m coming to see you at 9 in the morning because I saw you kill yourself a couple of days ago, don’t do that.”

Pathetic.

He steps out of his car, careful to not slam the door. He approaches the stoop, the same one he sat on after…

He raises his hand to the door, tapping 3 light knocks to the heavy wood.

“007n7?” His voice comes out raspy, but loud enough. The silence that follows makes the blood rushing in his ears sound all that louder, heart pounding. A minute passes, and Elliot’s heart sinks. He’s too late, he had already-

The door opens a crack, the crevice holding half of 007n7’s face, expression morphing into one of surprise when he sees Elliot standing outside. The two stand there for a moment, neither speaking a word, until-

“Elliot?” 007n7’s voice comes out as a whisper. “What are you doing here?” Elliot had neglected to plan ahead things to say when he was in the car, voice coming out with a slight stutter; “Where’s c00lkidd?”

A choked noise escapes the man, the question clearly striking a nerve. “What’s wrong?” Elliot already knows, but he can’t help but ask. 

The door swings open fully, revealing 007n7 standing in the doorway, head hung. “C00lkidd has been missing since Saturday. I don’t know where he is,” he admits, eyes watering subtly.

A tsunami of understanding crashes into Elliot, almost toppling him over. What happened on Sunday was undeniably real. He couldn’t prevent the cause of 007n7’s suicide, but he could surely prevent the actual event.

“Are you okay?” The words surprise Elliot as they leave his mouth, but he doesn’t exactly regret them. 007n7’s eyes widen in shock, but he nods his head. 

“Y-yeah, I’m okay.” The man continues nodding, as if he’s trying to convince himself more than Elliot. “c00lkidd usually leaves during the day to go have fun, he’s just taking a little longer to return.” Elliot narrows his eyes skeptically, knowing it isn't true, but what more could he do?

“Yeah, of course. I was just confused as to why he wasn’t annoying me at work yesterday.” 007n7 laughs nervously, muttering an apology. Elliot just nods, waving goodbye and jumping into his car hurriedly.

He avoids eye contact with 007n7 as he pulls out of the driveway, en route back home. There, he had done his job. 007n7 said he was okay, Elliot had done all he could. So why did he feel so guilty?

It wasn’t his fault that the man pulled the trigger the first time, and it wouldn’t be his fault this time, since he wasn’t going to do it. Why wasn’t he convinced?

The drive seemed significantly longer with his thoughts running on. He clumsily unlocks his front door, stepping inside with a sigh of resignation. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, met with a text from Guest 1337 asking how he was doing.

Shit. But would he say that? Of course not.

‘Elliot. You still feeling unwell? Need me to get you anything?’

‘I’m fine. I just went to talk to 007n7.’

‘Oh.’

‘And how did that go?’

Shit.

‘Good. Well, not really. He says that c00lkidd’s been missing since Saturday.’

Elliot’s heart twists as he presses send, unable to imagine the pain of losing a kid. Despite how annoying the pair could be, he wouldn’t wish death upon either of them.

‘Really?? That’s horrible. He must be going through a lot right now, did you see how he was doing?’

The reply hurts all the more when Elliot remembers that Guest had lost his wife and daughter, and was probably thinking the same thing. Elliot had, in fact, asked 007n7 how he was doing, and he had said he was doing fine, which is good enough.

How was Elliot to know if he was lying?

‘Yeah he said he was doing fine. He said c00lkidd usually disappears for a day and he’s gonna come back soon’

‘Of course, he’ll come back. Probably just hiding away to scare his dad, typical kid’

He nods along to the text, convincing himself that what the man typed was true. He shuts off his phone, watching as the screen fades into black.

Elliot needs to eat something, he can’t remember when he last had something to eat. Saturday, maybe Sunday? His stomach feels as if it’s eating itself, gargling and twisting around. He continues away from his door- remembering to lock it this time- and into the kitchen.

He makes a beeline for the cupboard, his body feeling as if the blood inside had evaporated. He regrets even considering food the moment the door swings open, and he sees 007n7 propped up against his headboard, gun in hand.

Elliot squeezes his eyes shut, slamming the door shut and stumbling out of the kitchen. Despite his bedroom being a short walk from the kitchen, the journey is perilous. The world seems to spin around him as he staggers to his room, hands grabbing anything in reach in the hopes of keeping him upright.

He manages to collapse into his bed without harming himself, but he can’t think of anything but the lifeless corpse inside that room. He needs a distraction.

Elliot grabs a remote from somewhere in the mess of sheets topping his bed, switching on the TV to channel 99. He can’t bring himself to pay attention to whatever is playing, but he also isn’t thinking of the body of the man he was talking to not even an hour ago.

The all-nighter Elliot had pulled the night previous catches up to him, nagging at him to sleep, and he gives in to the urge.

Chapter Text

Elliot was no stranger to waking up in the early morning, however this time, his thoughts were laced with guilt, and his chest burned with shame. 

Yesterday’s events were… laughable. 

Any other person would have done something more, something to ensure that history wouldn’t repeat itself. Elliot wasn’t any other person. The man he was seemingly tasked with saving was his sworn enemy, even if it was only one-sided.

007n7 was malicious, he was conniving, he wiped people off the platform, almost sent Builder Brothers’ Pizza into debt, but a baby at his door had put his reign of terror on hold. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea for the infamous hacker to be gifted a child, but to his credit, it did shape him into a better person.

Elliot sighs, staring blankly up. Dust motes danced above him, almost mocking. The room, shrouded in darkness, seemed to be judging him. Of course it was.

No matter Elliot’s feelings for the man, he was, in fact, deserving of life. Everyone is. 

Elliot drags his hand over his face, letting the air out of his lungs slowly. No. He did all he could. He talked to 007n7, he checked on him, he isn’t selfish for wanting to be free from this, he’s sure.

Elliot rises from bed, his bare feet hitting the wooden floor with a soft tap. The floor whines in protest as he walks to his door, where his work uniform hangs tauntingly. 

Yes. He’d work. He’d go to the pizzeria, and everything would be normal. 

Elliot reaches up, his fingers closing around the soft fabric of his shirt with care, almost forgetting to take off his current shirt before slipping it on. The pants come next, the ones he currently wears falling down to his ankles. Elliot steps carefully out of the pants- which he now realises he didn’t change out of from when he went to see 007n7 yesterday -and into his uniform pants, before finally pulling on his visor.

The air in his bedroom is heavy, pressing down on his shoulders as if trying to compress him to the floorboards. Elliot’s outstretched hand finds the doorknob, twisting it automatically. 

The empty hallway looms ahead of him, quiet and still. Elliot doesn’t have a choice- his feet carry him to the front door, not before sliding into some shoes. 

Elliot opens the door, the cold night air hitting him like a freight train- yet, he couldn’t welcome it more. The chill wraps around him, drawing him out of the house. He lets it.

The street is deserted- of course it is. Elliot didn’t check the time before he left, but the gloomy colour painting the sky told him more than a clock could.

Late-night insects sing from everywhere, more so a harmony than a cacophony, a sharp contrast to the intruding noise during the day. Elliot finds himself walking down the street already, the early morning cold a peaceful thing after what his life had been recently. 

Time had seemingly warped on Elliot’s walk- not like he was a stranger to such things. It felt like only an hour ago that he left the house, yet he finds himself enveloped in the sun’s rays. Has he really been walking that long?
Elliot snorts, shoving his hands into his pockets. The tall building of Builder Brothers’ Pizza looms ahead of him, bathed in a golden light, making the place appear somewhat heavenly.

Yep, that’s Elliot’s life- heavenly.

The glass door falls away from his hand, revealing the pizzeria inside. Nothing’s changed inside since Elliot had last been here, but then again, what did he expect? Everything was normal- at least for everyone else.

“Hey, Elliot!”

Elliot’s head snaps upwards, so fast he was sure it would break his neck. There, standing behind the counter, was his coworker- Lulu -waving fast enough to dislocate her shoulder. 

Elliot breathes a sigh of relief, letting the glass door fall shut behind him, and stepping further onto the tiled floor.

“Hey, Lulu,” Elliot approaches the counter, offering a weak smile in response to the girl’s full-face beam.

“Where were you the past 2 days?” Lulu’s gaze follows Elliot as he ducks behind the counter.

“Doesn’t matter,” Elliot adjusts his visor, “What am I working today?” Lulu’s eyes narrow at his immediate dismissal, yet she doesn’t make a move to question him further.

“Kitchen. I already turned the ovens on about half an hour ago.” Lulu’s back is turned to him, messing around with the register. Elliot mutters a thanks, entering the kitchen without grandeur.

Inside, yet again, remains the same as it was last week. He really doesn’t know why he expects the world to have stopped for him, but he’s grateful to have at least some sense of similarity in a whirlwind of change.

Warm air radiates from the wall of ovens to Elliot’s right, a usually comforting presence replaced with one borderlining on overwhelming. Elliot can feel his uniform sticking to him, and it doesn’t take long for the first order to come through.

Elliot’s hands work with mechanical precision, sprinkling cheese over spreaded sauce and shoving the pizza into an oven. Days in the kitchen usually passed with flying colours, and Elliot had chosen to come to work today specifically for a distraction- of which he had no luck finding.

When assembling pizzas, he made sure to put care in as to give the customers exactly what they deserve, but he found it increasingly harder to pay attention to the task at hand when his mind kept drawing him back to that dreaded house.

The gap between orders was the worst of it. The quiet allowed the memories to grip his brain, icy tendrils of dread snaking in and demanding to be recognised. Flashes of a headboard painted in red would overlap sauce-spreaded dough, attempting to draw out what remained of Elliot’s stomach- which wouldn’t make much of a difference anyway.

He really should eat something, but the thought of food had never been less appetising.

Lunch could not have taken longer to arrive. Getting out of that sauna-hot room was not as much of a relief as Elliot would have hoped, considering how the sun was determined to overpower the heat of the ovens.

Sunlight presses heavily on Elliot’s shoulders, almost as if it was trying to join him in his body. He was finally out of the kitchen, but at what cost? He should eat something, or at the very least get out of the heat, but his lack of transport made it hard.

Where would he go if he had his car, anyway? Lunch is only 30 minutes, and Elliot had wasted 4 of them, if his watch wore right. The ice-cream parlor was only a 5-minute walk down the road, but who has ice-cream for lunch?

Who does any of what Elliot has done the past week?

Ice-cream it is.

...

A blast of cold air hits Elliot’s face, accompanied with the soft chime of a bell. The parlor is, unsurprisingly, deserted. Old-fashioned posters line the walls, advertising flavours that had long since stopped being sold. The place looked like it had come from the ‘80s- checkered tile topped with an absurd amount of pink and blue seating cover the floor, and neon lights glow from every wall.

“Be with you in a minute, dear,” Elliot’s attention turns to the counter, behind which stood an old woman, plump with age and wearing a uniform straight from a movie. She busied herself with an unseen task, humming a tune Elliot could not quite pick out.

He slowly approaches, neck craning to take in the whole of the place. Despite being a 10 minute drive from his house, he had never been to this place before, maybe because the lack of customers did little to encourage him. He couldn’t think of any reason the place would be so empty based on the decor alone, but no one ever went to an ice-cream parlor just to look around.

Rows of flavours sit in metal trays, each with a small sign on a popsicle stick displaying the flavour. Elliot doesn’t know why he bothers looking at the flavours, he chooses the same every time- strawberry.

When the woman finally turns around to serve him, Elliot has already decided on a small, one-scoop cone of strawberry with no toppings. It's only after the worker brings up his total that he realises he forgot to bring his wallet with him when he left in the morning.

“Ah, shit,” Elliot frantically taps the pockets of his pants to no avail. He knows his wallet is on his kitchen island. The lady watches patiently, before, miraculously, a $10 note appears in Elliot’s pocket. 

“Here,” He breathes, sliding it across the counter and grabbing the cone in his hand. The woman- Jo , Elliot notices a name tag on her chest- smiles, bidding him a good day.

Elliot feels quite awkward sitting down at a window seat booth all alone, but the taste of ice-cream quickly pulls him from his shame.

He hadn’t even realised how hungry he was, despite realising how long ago he had eaten. The cone had hardly been in his possession for 2 minutes before it was gone, inhaled with a sense of urgency he never knew he had. 

It felt like too soon when Elliot peeled himself off the faux leather and out the door, on his way back to work. In the parlor, his overwhelming relief had taken over the morbid flashbacks that had been plaguing his mind the whole day, but now that he didn’t have his thoughts set on food, they all came back, oppressively so.

Elliot’s mind was a storm set on dampening his mood. The past was in the past, and what really mattered right now was the present. 

Elliot forces himself to finish his shift, leaving no room for post-trauma stress, he’s Elliot Builder after all, Robloxia’s hardest worker, and Builder Brothers’ Pizza’s best employee for as long as he can remember.

It’s only now, as Elliot is almost done with his trek back home, that he feels the full power of regret for leaving his car in his driveway. The sun bores deep on the back of his neck, drawing sweat from him and down his back. He’s giving the company a bad rep- dressed head-to-toe in uniform, and furthermore sweat. 

The sun’s harsh glares dance in Elliot’s vision, and he brings a hand to his forehead to block them out just enough to see his street approaching, finally.

The door is unlocked, yet shut, but Elliot can’t bring himself to care. He’s finally, finally , home, and already making a beeline for the shower.

...

Even with the extreme discomfort at work today, Elliot’s job always made him feel better, and his earlier shift is no exception. While not exactly distracting him from the events that had taken place at 007n7’s house not long ago, like he had intended, it had brought him to think about the situation deeper.

He wouldn’t just let the suicide take place this week, but he didn’t really feel like going to the man’s house, he’d look way more desperate than he’d like. Elliot would find the man somewhere in public, act like it had been a coincidence, and use that encounter to further convince him to stay alive.

The blanket wrapped around Elliot seems to grow softer, and his sense of accomplishment with the events of the day, and eventually tomorrow, along with finally having eaten something- even if it was very small-coax him into a soft, guilt-free slumber.

Chapter Text

Light blazes behind Elliot’s eyelids, burning a crimson hue that nagged for him to wake. He groans, opening his eyes blearily and wiping sleep from the corners with the heel of his palm. Sunlight filtered in through the small gap in his blinds, casting a golden ray directly onto Elliot’s pillow. He mumbles indignantly, closing his eyes before ripping them back open when remembering his plans for the day.

Right. He’s supposed to go find 007n7 and further convince him to not put a bullet through his skull. Easy.

Elliot rises onto his elbows, grumbling something incoherent under his breath and reaching to his bedside table for his phone, which lights up at his touch. It’s Thursday, and he had only gone to work for 1 day in the week- a rare occurrence. 8:42 in the morning… What time would 007n7 wake? Guest 1337 had mentioned earlier that he saw him at the store at 10, so it was best for Elliot to try out his luck then.

He’d leave at 09:30, which would give him an hour to get ready. What would he say? “Hey 007n7, I know I hate you and we never talk, but I came to find you to convince you to not kill yourself. Would you mind not shooting yourself? Thanks!”

God he’s pathetic. At least he had time to think about it, but- what if 007n7 wasn’t at the store? What if he had already pulled the trigger? No. There’s no point in thinking like that, he needs to focus on what he can change.

Elliot drags himself out of bed, mind set on making something to eat. After changing into more appropriate clothes, he stumbles into the kitchen, still waking up from the sleep that had so reluctantly left him not too long ago. 

Untouched food lines the shelves of Elliot’s pantry, beckoning him closer. His eyes scan the arrangement, before settling on a cup of instant noodles- not the most ideal breakfast, but it was all Elliot was willing to make this early. He doesn’t bother with the kettle, instead opting to fill the cup with water and chuck it in the microwave.

The appliance hums, radiating a soft warmth against Elliot’s thigh as his mind wanders. When he finishes his food, he’d pass time by tidying up the kitchen before leaving, hopefully bringing him to the store at a more reasonable time.

The beeping of the microwave signalling the food inside was done tears Elliot from his train of thought, bringing him back to the present. He blinks, almost having forgotten where he was. Almost burning his hand on the scalding cup, Elliot grabs a fork and sits down on his couch, which groans in protest upon him flopping onto it.

He wastes no time in shovelling the noodles into his mouth, hardly chewing, and manages to wolf the whole lot down in less time than it took to cook. Now, time to get cleaning- it wasn’t even 9 yet.

Elliot attempts to busy himself with rearranging his silverware drawer to no avail. Not even 15 minutes had passed since he had begun, yet he already found himself aching to leave. He looks at the clock on the microwave, which, despite having a missing light, displays the time correctly; 09:07, good enough.

Elliot had already gathered his phone and keys earlier in a feeble attempt to put off leaving, but it didn’t matter when he was going to rush through everything anyway. 

His car waits for him in the driveway- battered and old, with a blown headlight and missing back windscreen wiper- he’s in the driver’s seat before he can second guess himself.

The store… Did Guest mean the one in the dingy run-down mall or the polished stand-alone one? Elliot decides to try his luck at the stand-alone, hoping that 007n7 would choose to make the slightly further drive in favour of less walking. Wait- who was he kidding? 007n7 doesn’t drive; he has exploits. Elliot almost laughs at himself for being so dumb.

The drive took longer than Elliot had hoped- partially due to the fact that he had to restrain himself from speeding due to double demerits- and parking didn’t come easy. Despite being 09:40 on a Thursday, the lot was packed.

Elliot steps out of the car, shutting the door softly behind him before approaching the entrance. The glass doors slide open automatically, and a wave of noise hits him. Unsupervised children climb into empty spaces in aisles, while people with carts take up as much space as they can. Elliot hates this place- way too crowded. Seriously, who is waking up this early on a Thursday to go shopping? He scoffs, deciding to grab a basket to at least make it look like he was busy.

Wandering the aisles, Elliot can’t help but feel like he’s wasting time. Yes, he’s here in the store waiting for 007n7, but he wasn’t exactly talking to him, and there was no sign of the man. Elliot realises that pacing endlessly around the store with an empty basket for an undefined amount of time would eventually draw some looks, so he grabs the nearest item, turning it over in his hand before dropping it into his basket.

He’s on his 4th lap when he spots someone entering the building- 007n7. Finally.

The man slotted a coin into a shopping cart, unaware of someone’s gaze on him. Elliot would look more desperate than he’d like if he approached the hacker within the first minute of him entering the store, so he instead turns around and heads back to the freezer section, counting on running into 007n7 while he browsed.

Despite his best efforts, a normal shopper is far from what Elliot appears. His footsteps rapidly connect with the floor, and his shopping cart’s rickety wheel creates a screeching noise as it tries to keep up with his hurried pace. Elliot swears under his breath, forcing himself to slow down. 

He’s nearing the fresh produce aisle-about to round the corner-when he almost runs someone over- 007n7 .

The man is clutching a basket tightly in his left hand, his right raised in surprise. The two freeze, a beat of silence passing between them, before;

“Sorry,” 007n7 mutters, ducking his head and swerving around Elliot, who stares at the spot where the hacker had been moments ago, before his brain finally catches up. He swivels around, shopping cart abandoned, and jumps forward, arm outstretched, his downturned palm finding 007n7’s shoulder. The man visibly flinches, turning only his head to look Elliot in the eyes. His eyes are narrowed in confusion, brows furrowed with mild concern, lips parted as if to speak. Elliot cuts off anything he would’ve wanted to say;

“007n7,” Elliot breathes, the name falling from his lips in exasperation. His hand lingers on 007n7’s shoulder for a moment longer, before dropping to his side. The man turns fully now, his whole body facing Elliot. He’s waiting for elaboration-that of which Elliot finds hard to grant. 

“Elliot-”
“Can we talk?” Elliot cuts him off. 007n7’s eyes widen in surprise, but he catches himself, nodding softly, almost imperceptible.

“Y-Yeah, of course,” he seems caught off-guard-clearly not expecting Elliot’s words-straightening his posture with knitted brows. Elliot sighs, thinking for a moment.

“Outside,” 007n7 seems taken aback.

“I’m buying groceries-”
“Can it wait?” Elliot stares at 007n7, catching the subtle nod. He doesn’t wait for a change of mind-simply turning around and leading the way out of the store-or check to see if he’s being followed. 

The parking lot is ominous-the sky is dark, thick, imposing storm clouds loom, the air is heavy and moist, telling of rain-Elliot can sense 007n7 approaching him, and he turns. 007n7 is waiting silently, his face a mixture of scepticism and hesitancy. Elliot breathes out a sigh, his chest tight, trying to find the words he needs, before finally settling upon some.

“The other day, when I saw you,” he looks anywhere- everywhere -other than 007n7’s face, “I feel like I didn’t really say what I meant.” A small pause seems to stretch out between them. “I wanted to ask, are you okay? Like, really okay. I don’t have a kid or anything but I know you’re probably hurting right now.”
Silence.

“Look, I know we haven’t exactly had the best history, but really, if you need anything-anyone to talk to, or something along the lines-I’m here, you can speak to me,” Elliot finally meets 007n7’s eyes, to see he’s… crying . Not audibly, not with a contorted face, but crying-tears slipping from his eyes and carving a path down his cheek. Elliot pauses, before hesitantly opening his arms, to which 007n7 stumbles into.

Elliot’s eyes widen, only now realising what he had done, but he finds himself unable to pull away; Instead, his arms wrap around 007n7’s midsection, pulling him flush with his own torso. The embrace is…surprisingly tolerable-something Elliot finds he doesn’t hate about the man against him. 007n7 buries his head into the crook of Elliot’s neck, silent tears gliding from his face to the other’s shirt. Elliot lifts his arm, pausing over 007n7’s back, before lowering his hand between his shoulder blades, patting awkwardly.

After a beat, 007n7 pulls away, wiping lazily at his eyes with the back of his hand, avoiding Elliot’s gaze.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, as if the word pains him-Elliot almost doesn’t pick it up. He nods, and despite himself, he feels a small smile tug at the corners of his lips.

“Anytime,” he whispers. A short silence ensues before-almost regretfully -Elliot’s lips finally part; “Well, I’ll…leave you to go shop…” he stares at 007n7’s face-almost searching-before finally turning away, feet carrying him back to his car.

Something tugs at Elliot’s mind, and he turns his head, casting a glance back, only to see 007n7 standing rooted to the spot, staring at his feet. Elliot quickly turns back around, now speed walking to his vehicle.

He pulls open the drivers-side door, sliding into the seat and shutting the door with a sigh. His head falls back against the headrest, and he brings his hands up, pressing them against his face, a long groan drawing out of his throat. 

What just happened?

Elliot turns the key, which he had left in the ignition, gripping the wheel as the car sputters to life. He tries to ignore the figure still standing out the front of the store with sagging shoulders and a dipped head. His nose crinkles, moreso in rumination than disgust.

Him-Elliot-comforting 007n7 . He laughs quietly to himself, the sound drained of amusement. The hacker was…well, pathetic . He seemed broken- shattered . So what if Elliot had held him? Saying the man needed it would be an understatement. 

Despite the day’s abnormal events, Elliot feels no regret. 

Chapter Text

Elliot pulls the handbrake, twisting the key but leaving it in. He leans back against his seat, and for maybe the first time this week, he feels satisfaction… almost .

No, he is satisfied. He talked to 007n7, he did his job, he fulfilled his purpose. 

So why was he just standing there?

007n7 was caught off-guard by what had happened. He isn’t going to kill himself. Elliot succeeded.

Elliot exhales through his teeth, opening his car door and stepping onto the pavement. The air is heavy, swallowing him whole and refusing to spit him out. The sky is dark-thick clouds encompassing the sun. The lone tree in his yard sways almost hypnotizingly, leaves shivering as if trying to disconnect from their stems. The scene could only be described as ominous. Elliot shudders despite the warmth, not wanting to spend too long outside. 

The front door doesn’t protest as it’s pushed open, gaping mouth revealing a hallway fighting to be as dark as outside. Elliot’s hand fumbles blindly on the wall in search of the light switch, eventually finding it and flicking it on-not making much of a difference. His phone pings from somewhere deep in his pocket, briefly vibrating his leg. He pulls it out, the screen already illuminated and displaying a message: “You still coming?”

Right. He’s supposed to go see Guest 1337, who had organised lunch after seeing Elliot missing from work yet again. Elliot drags a hand down his face, dropping his phone onto a small set of draws near the door. 

In the bathroom, the sink refuses to spill warm water, instead sputtering out water that Elliot was surprised wasn’t frozen. Regardless, he splashes some onto his face, allowing it to trickle down, falling back into the basin in fragile drops. He makes eye contact with himself in the mirror, flinching at his appearance-dark bags hang low under his eyes, which are sunken in and red, while the corners of his lips are downturned, giving him a gaunt expression.

Gross. Elliot wastes no time in shutting off the water and drying his face, quickly reapplying antiperspirant and cologne and stepping back out the door, almost forgetting his phone on the way.

Guest doesn’t live far, but the drive to his house stretches out longer than it should. There’s a surprisingly little amount of people on the road, and Elliot finds he could likely count the cars he sees on one hand.

He doesn’t know why he agreed to go-with everything happening to him at the moment, he was sure that he’d decline-but a small part of him tells him that he owes it to the man-Guest was always there for him, and the man was quite lonely. Come to think of it, Elliot can’t remember a time where Guest mentioned anyone outside of their mutual friends, even briefly. The man was a veteran of war, and at some point he had mentioned losing his wife and kid, to which Elliot sympathised. 

Every time he came over, when Guest opened the door, he always seemed to have a visible weight lifted off his shoulders. Elliot can’t imagine why people avoid him, especially considering his great contribution to society.

Small specks of water bloom on the warm ground as Elliot arrives, a calm start to the storm to come. He almost doesn’t feel the raindrops connecting with his bare skin as he climbs Guest’s deck and knocks on the door-which swings open almost immediately. Guest looks domestic with his ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron, offering out a hand-most likely to dap Elliot up-but is caught off guard when he’s pulled into an embrace. A soft groan of surprise escapes him, but he quickly regains his composure, offering a quick squeeze before pulling away. 

“What was that for?” he appears more curious than annoyed. Elliot dismisses him with a wave of his hand.

“Just felt you needed it,” Elliot peers past Guest-whose brows are knitted in blatant disbelief, clearly unconvinced-who takes the hint and steps back to allow the man in. Something nags softly at Elliot’s mind that Guest wasn’t the one in need, but he quickly shuts the thought down and buries it somewhere it won’t resurface. The inside of Guest’s home is simple-borderlining on empty-but feels welcome all the same.

“I made lunch,” A voice from behind Elliot jolts him out of his mind, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. Why is he so on edge? He watches as Guest slips past him to the kitchen, which seeps an enticing smell-reminding Elliot he hadn’t eaten something filling in a while. He quickly follows Guest into the kitchen, hopping on an island chair and slumping against the marble countertop. Guest is standing at the stove, back to Elliot, before turning around with a pan and spatula in hand.

“I made stir-fry,” he tips some of the mixture onto a plate, pushing it toward Elliot along with mismatched utensils. Elliot mutters a thanks, already shovelling the food into his mouth with vigor. A minute passes, and Guest slips into the seat beside Elliot, eating much less energetically. They eat in relative silence, before:
“What were those texts about?” Guest looks up from his plate and at Elliot, who is already half-way through his. 

“What texts?” Elliot is met with a frown from Guest, “Those ones. Nothing, they were nothing,” he shrugs, lifting a forkful of food to his mouth, not wasting time blowing the steam away. Guest’s frown deepens; almost a scowl.

“Did you go see him?” Elliot’s fork drops from his hand onto his plate with a soft ‘clink’ , and now it’s his time to frown. He pauses to think for a moment.

“...Yes,” He says eventually, avoiding eye contact and instead choosing to stare at his food. “But I already said, it was nothing,” his tone is one of finality, leaving no room for argument. When he looks up from his plate, he sees Guest, brows furrowed-clearly wanting to press further-but the man drops it.

“How’s your week been?” Elliot just shrugs again, muttering something about it being fine, and standing up to wash his now-empty plate. “Don’t bother. I’ll do it later,” Guest’s voice floats out from behind him. Elliot nods, and joins Guest on his seat again.

Silence stretches out between them-not awkward, but not exactly comfortable either.

“...You want a beer?” Guest’s voice breaks the silence, soft-as if unsure of what to say.

“It’s like 2 on a Thursday?” Elliot cocks his head in mild amusement, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. Guest stares at Elliot for a moment, searching his gaze.

“Is that really your biggest concern at the moment?” Elliot’s smile drops instantly. He accepts the can without further protest, bringing it up to his lips and taking a long sip. He didn’t know how much he needed this-it loosens some of the tension coiled tight in his chest, almost making him want to speak up; about…well, everything-what he witnessed just 5 days ago, how time rewinded for him only-but he keeps his mouth shut. Guest senses the internal battle.

“What’s wrong?” Those two words, as simple as they may be, elicit a visceral reaction. Elliot jolts, the space behind his eyes burning. He squeezes his eyelids closed, shaking his head.

“Nothing, it’s nothing-”
“I know you’re lying Elliot,” Guest’s expression is sincere-brows furrowed in concern, bottom lip slightly upturned, eyes scanning-one of genuine care. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been off since Monday.”
“You won’t believe me. No one will.”

“Please,” the word is soft, barely above a whisper, “I’ll listen. Whatever it is, I’ll try to understand, I promise I will,” Guest places a hand atop Elliot’s shoulder. Elliot doesn’t budge. He shakes his head, refusing under his breath. Guest opens his mouth to plead again, but is cut off by Elliot standing abruptly, downing the rest of his beer, crushing the can in his hand, and dropping it onto the countertop.

“It’s best I leave,” Elliot doesn’t look at Guest, already turned toward the door. Guest sighs in resignation.

“Alright,” the word is empty of protest-defeated. He stands to walk Elliot to the door, but is met with another head shake. He flops back down onto his seat. “...Bye.”

Elliot’s eyes burn at the man’s tone, but he doesn’t answer, not even a simple goodbye. He makes sure to shut the door behind him.

The whole drive home, Elliot’s grip on the steering wheel was white-knuckled. The soft sprinkle had turned into pelting rain, making it difficult to see 5 feet ahead, making the short distance from his car to his front door seem all the much longer. He bursts out into a sprint, fumbling with his house key to open his door, which swings open with a soft creak. He stumbles inside, quickly slamming the door shut behind him and leaning back against it.

Elliot runs a hair through his air, letting out a long, shaky breath. An overwhelming feeling of needing to tell someone what happened almost overcomes him, when a ping from his phone pulls him from his thoughts.

His gaze drops down to his hand-which is clutching his phone so tight he swears it’ll crush it-and sees the screen light up with a notification.

007n7: “Thank you for today.”

Staring at the message, Elliot feels his heart twist in angst.

Chapter Text

The living room is dark, the only light coming from the TV-despite being on for the past 4 hours, the only thing Elliot would be able to describe about the plot is the use of keys. A plethora of empty Bloxy Cola cans are scattered on the floor, having been used to try to wash something away; What that thing may be, Elliot doesn’t know.

His mind had been…elsewhere, recounting the events of the past (?). It felt like an eternity since that Saturday-the last day his mind had been free of the parasite that now took claim. Life had been so blissful without the constant pain nestled at the back of his head, the pain that lied that this was all his fault.

Where had he gone wrong? He discovered 007n7’s body on Sunday, where it seemed somewhat recent, mainly due to the lack of stench in his house. The trigger couldn’t have been pulled any earlier than Saturday night, and even then, that was pushing it. Saturday night…

Elliot jolts upright, ripped from his subconscious state.

Saturday night.

Shit.

Elliot stands up so fast everything goes black, particles dancing merrily across his vision. He fumbles for his phone and keys on the coffee table, almost falling over in the process. He runs out of the living room, shoulder checking a wall on his way to the front door. He rips it open so fast the door stop creates a small dent on the wall, but he couldn’t care less.

If yesterday was raining cats and dogs, today’s weather could be described as raining horses and cows. Paired with the torrential rain, hail the size of marbles pelt down from the sky, creating a grating cacophony. The door resists being closed, wind fighting to keep it flush with the wall. He lets go, deciding he has more important stuff to do.

Elliot doesn’t hesitate-he doesn't have time-instead ducking his head and bringing an arm up to shield his face and brace against the obnoxious weather. The downpour is unforgiving-beating into his back as if trying to flatten him to the ground. He grits his teeth, ripping open the drivers-side door and throwing himself into the car. Rain pounds angrily on his windscreen, demanding entrance.

He shoves his key into the cylinder, twisting it and hurriedly unlocking the handbrake. The car stutters to life, engine growling unhappily. Elliot wastes no time in pulling out of the driveway and onto the street, where the visibility is so low an accident is almost guaranteed. Surely no else was driving in this weather at-Elliot glances at the centre console-02:24, so he’d be fine. The radio kicks up suddenly-ever delayed-adding buzzing static to the mixture of noise.

Elliot grinds his teeth in frustration; Going any faster than 24 would send his car spinning-courtesy of the thick sheen of water coating the road. His grip on the wheel is white-knuckled, fingers tapping impatiently.

The street is dark and tree-lined, and it doesn’t help that the drive to 007n7’s house is out of the way of the town. Elliot picks up something in the static-a string of words that he swears don’t belong on radio.

“-and I got it right under my chin m-”

He quickly switches channels-a song like that had no business playing on radio; Elliot had to be imagining things.
From the static, the same voice plays again-only slightly different.

“Guess it all began when the bullet finally struck-”
Elliot turns the volume all the way down. His mind is playing tricks on him, making him hear songs that he’d hear earlier on some form of social media. 

Outside the car, the weather seems to disagree with Elliot’s actions-the sound of the rain and hail’s assault picking up in place of the silence from the radio. His car powers on.

Through the layer of water clinging to the windshield, Elliot makes out the shape of 007n7’s house. He looks at the console-02:43. An inconsolable feeling of dread takes place, pressing heavily down on his shoulders. His subconscious offers that it’s already too late, but he waves the unwelcome thought away. If the weather wasn’t so bad, he could’ve made it at half past, which would undoubtedly grace him with a speeding ticket.

Elliot doesn’t bother turning off his car-instead jumping out and running up the stoop. He clears the stairs in one step, raising his hand to open the door before pausing. He should at least try.

“007n7?” Elliot calls, already knowing it would be futile. The silence grows, almost as if responding to him. He’s soaked to the skin-clothes clinging to him, hair pressed against his neck. 

The pit in his stomach grows upon discovering the door is-yet again-unlocked. It swings open at his touch, revealing the same hallway Elliot had grown to hate. A thick lump forms in his throat, embedding itself and refusing to be swallowed.

He takes a tentative step inside, listening intently for any signs of life and almost jumping out of his skin when the front door slams shut behind him. He yelps, whipping around and glaring at it, and it almost looks smug. He mutters something under his breath about the state of outside, but is quickly reminded of why he’s here.

The house is more dimly lit than last time, and not just because of the time. The kitchen light is off, and there’s no dishes in the sink. That’s different . Elliot narrows his eyes as he scans the open room in a faux attempt of finding the bedroom door; He’s already memorised the house layout despite only having been here once.

The air is just as heavy as last time, just as suffocating, but Elliot suppresses it, pushing it to the back of his mind. Other than the lack of mess and lighting, the house looks the same as it did when he was last here. 

His steps are light, almost as if not wanting to disturb the house. He makes a beeline for 007n7’s room, footfall quiet but purposeful.

The bedroom door looms ahead of him, tall and imposing-and cracked open. Elliot’s tongue is void of moisture, and he forces a painful swallow down his throat. He outstretches an arm-fingertips hesitating midair, before falling forward and pushing the door open.

His suspicions are confirmed at the sight of 007n7 on his bed, posed how he was a week ago-an explosion of red, pink, and white behind him, gun in hand. 

Tears prick at the corner of Elliot’s eyes, threatening to spill. He lets out a long, shaky exhale, and decides that this time, he won’t run away.

The carpet sinks below his every step, shoes tracking wet footprints which would’ve made him cringe under any other circumstance.

007n7 looks different-expression twisted into something almost more painful than last time, but Elliot doesn’t dwell on that just yet. 

More than anything else, he feels anger. Anger at 007n7. Anger at himself. Anger that 007n7 did this again. Anger that he let this happen. Anger that 007n7 could text him as if everything was okay, as if the problem had been solved. Anger that he couldn’t see he failed until it was too late.

He approaches the man, limbs feeling heavier than usual, shaky as if he’d faint. In hindsight, he’d be more steady on his feet if he had consumed anything other than Bloxy Cola in the past few hours.

Up close, he has a better look at the framed photo, the same one of 007n7 and c00lkidd arm-in-arm and grinning. His expression softens for a moment, before hardening up again. 007n7 is selfish, killing himself after just a week of his son missing. What if he showed up? His dad wouldn’t be there.

Elliot now turns to the bedside table, seeing a phone lying innocently. He quirks a brow, reaching out to grab it without second thought. It lights up upon his contact, revealing two notifications: Charge phone -Elliot’s gaze momentarily flicks to the percentage, 12%-and Do not disturb: On since 11:58 . He does a double take.

‘On since 11:58’

007n7 was still alive just-Elliot checks the time, 02:49-3 hours ago. He’s 3 hours too late. Swiping up, he’s met with a password screen-if only it was biometrics. Elliot looks back over at the dead man on the bed, and finally reads his expression.

Regret-or what looks like it, at least.

Elliot’s heart clenches, chest constricting in suffocating guilt.

He failed. He was given a chance to save an unstable father from suicide, and he blew his one chance because he was too lazy and self absorbed to do anything more. If he wasn’t wallowing in self-pity and instead was taking action, then maybe the man on the bed would be more than a body, more than a corpse.

He finds himself grieving, despite hating 007n7.

That doesn’t sound right.

Elliot looks back over at the hacker, and feels himself shatter more.

Does he really hate 007n7?

Chapter Text

An alarm rings from somewhere to the side of Elliot, startling him out of his slumber. He grumbles, reaching out to pull his phone off of its makeshift pedestal on the bedside table, prying his sleep-crusted eyelids apart to get a proper look at the screen. The alarm screen glares at him, vibrating his hand with the tune of some stupid ringtone that he had picked purely to annoy him into consciousness, which seemed to be serving its purpose. He fumbles to disable it, unable to bear the grating noise.

With the distraction of his work alarm leaving the screen, Elliot can now clearly see the time-07:01 on Monday the…

No.

A wave of deja vu crashes into him like a freight train, washing away every thought but one:
“This is a time loop,” Elliot mutters under his breath, not to anyone in particular. His eyes scan the screen, scrutinizing every detail to ensure he is reading it right, and sure enough-he is. He hasn’t failed-well, he has -it wasn’t just a rewind of time, he has another chance. How many chances? He isn’t sure.

Relief floods through him, but dread tugs at the corners of his mind. He has to do this again; Wake up and go through a week he’s already experienced twice before, just to convince a man to not kill himself-and inevitably have to look at his corpse upon failing again.

No. He’s not doing this right now. 

Elliot flops back down onto his pillow, eyelids already reaching for each other. It’d only be a quick sleep, he’ll go find 007n7 when he’s more energised, and he’ll be more likely to succeed. Darkness buzzes behind his eyes, drawing his consciousness from him until he passes out.

Elliot wakes up feeling…worse than before. His limbs are like lead, falling into the mattress as if it were made of quicksand. Blanket encompasses him in an attempt to draw him further down, and he struggles in its grasp, eventually falling onto the floor in a crumpled tangle of limbs. He groans in protest, reaching up for his phone, his finger catching the edge of it and bringing it down onto his head.

“Ow,” he says more out of habit than pain, already clutching it in his palm and fumbling to turn the screen on. The notifications are still there from earlier, but a different time reads at the top-12:24.

Shit. He overslept, and there’s no way he’d be able to find 007n7 at the store today-if this loop was like the previous, he would’ve been there at around 10, and no normal shopper is at a grocery store for 3 hours. 

Elliot exhales noisily, dragging a hand down his face in frustration. He’s not going to go to 007n7's house-he wasn’t that desperate. His best bet would be to see if he could find him there tomorrow, hopefully it wouldn’t be too late by then.

What could he do in the meantime? It’s way too late to go to work, and it’s not like he has anything better to do right now. He should eat. Elliot grins at the thought, giving himself a mental pat on the back for remembering to eat something, especially with all that’s going on in his life right now.

He doesn’t feel like cooking, though, and there is no way he’s going out in public in his current state-rumpled clothes, tangled hair, and a body as heavy as lead-so delivery is his best option. What should he order?

It isn’t even a question-Elliot knows he's ordering pizza before his thumbs could even find the app. He orders the usual-hawaiian with pepperoni-and is informed that his food will be there in 10 minutes.

He gets up, making straight for his living room chair and flopping back onto it. He doesn’t move much after that-caught in a state of subconsciousness during the wait-only getting up when he hears the knocking on his front door.

“Coming,” he calls, but his voice comes out quieter than intended. Every step to the door feels like walking through molasses, his feet dragging heavily on the floor. Eventually, he reaches it, grabbing the doorknob and swinging it open without fanfare. He opens his mouth-likely to inform the delivery driver that he paid on the app-but he’s cut off before he can speak;

“Elliot?” Lulu is standing on his doorstep, a box of pizza in hand. Elliot freezes in place, hand still grasping the doorknob. “Why aren’t you at work today?” She cocks her head inquisitively, “You didn’t even call in.” Elliot blinks at her, mind searching for an excuse. “This is your first time off work this year, are you feeling well?”
“Yeah, well-no, I’m…sick?” Elliot stutters the words out, scratching sheepishly at the back of his neck. Lulu narrows her eyes at his answer, clearly not convinced.

“And you haven’t been sick at all in the past…what, 8? Months?” Her tone is almost accusing, and Elliot feels himself start to squirm in discomfort.

“...Yes?”
“Why are you saying that as if you’re asking me?” Lulu prods.
“I don’t know!” Elliot breathes in exasperation. His mouth snaps shut at the look on Lulu’s face. “Can I just have my pizza?” He offers a hand out, and she places the box wordlessly into it. “Thanks,” he mumbles, but she’s already walking back to her motorbike. He watches her go, brows knitted in thought, and he decides to just go back inside and eat.

He shuts the door, turning back and making a beeline straight for the seat he was sitting on before Lulu came. He drops into it, hearing the pizza slide haphazardly inside the box. He frowns, lip upturned, but he just opens the box and pulls out a slice, hardly tasting the food on his tongue.

The silence coats every surface, creating an awkward air to the room. Elliot reaches for the remote tossed onto the coffee table, turning on the TV, which displays the day’s news-nothing of interest. He watches it play for a minute, not really taking any of the stories in, and decides to just turn it off.

The silence that follows feels less out of place, but just as empty. Elliot doesn’t attempt to break it again.

He needs a break. For today, just today, he’d let himself be free of the responsibility of talking to 007n7-after all, he had already missed his opportunity to seek him out at the store. It won’t be a waste, he’ll just clear his mind, ready to talk to 007n7 tomorrow.

What can he do in the meantime? Media clearly wasn’t grabbing his attention, and he doesn’t exactly have a wide variety of hobbies, although-he likes baking. That’s it. Elliot will bake today, it’ll be just like his job, only-he usually cooks at work, rather than baking. 

Elliot feels like he’s following his feet more than telling them where they need to go, the desire to bake a thing to fill time more than out of interest. He arrives in the kitchen, at the spice shelf. Rows upon rows of spice jars line the rack, and nestled in between cinnamon and cardamom, is a book-small, about the size of someone’s hand, leather-bound, and caked in flour. Elliot finds himself reaching for it, pulling it down along with a flurry of mixed spices and herbs.

The cover is nothing special-just an engraved vine forming a rectangle border-but it’s not the cover you judge by, it’s what’s inside. The pages resist separation from each other, random sticky substances coating every inch. Elliot flicks to a random recipe, coming upon directions for chocolate-chip cookies. This’ll do.

He reaches for the cupboard, pulling out all the ingredients required, still double checking the recipe despite having the whole thing memorised-down to every last grain of sugar-this is his mother’s recipe after all. Well-not really. He remembers his mom telling him that her friend had actually crafted the recipe and brought it for her while she was in labour for him, and she had just altered it slightly.

Elliot works methodically, already having made the dry ingredient mixture, and getting to work on creaming the butter and sugar. It isn’t long before that’s finished too, and before he knows it, the cookies are in the oven. 

While the cookies bake, he’s already begun washing the wet ingredient bowl in preparation for whatever he’s going to make next. He checks the book, coming across a page titled: “Apple Crumble Muffins”. Perfect, he’s had the ingredients for that sitting in his cupboard since February. He combines the elements together, making sure not to overmix, and hears the beeping from the oven signalling the end of the first batch of cookies.

Elliot pulls on an oven mitt, opening the oven and receiving a blast of hot air straight to his face. He waves it away, grabbing the tray from inside. The cookies, as expected, are perfect, and he quickly gets to work on the second batch after placing the original ones on a cooling rack. Luckily, the muffins and cookies both cook at the same temperature, so he’s able to be more efficient.

Elliot lost track of time, and is left with muffins, cookies, crepes, and pikelets. An odd array, but he wasn’t baking for anything in particular. His phone lays lonely on the counter, and he reaches for it, wiping sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. The time displayed on the screen is 17:26-later than he expected, but he wasn’t mad.

He looks back over his shoulder at the copious amount of baked goods on the stove, and at the moment, nothing is more unappealing than eating any-even the thought of biting into one filling Elliot with nausea.

He can’t just throw these out, though, it’d be a waste. His mind turns over what to do, before landing on giving them away. There’s a disability services centre near him, not too far from 007n7's house. Perfect.

Elliot bends in front of the dreaded tupperware cabinet, steeling himself before yanking the door open in one quick movement, being met with an avalanche of containers. He mumbles frustratedly under his breath, scanning the sea of plastic for a lid that matches the container he had picked out from the scattered array.

After a minute of searching, he finds it, deciding one is enough to fit some food in for 007n7, the people at the services centre will receive a disposable aluminum tray. He stands up, already arranging food into the confined space without even bothering to clean up the mess on the floor.

It takes a minute to pack all the food he baked into their respective storage, and Elliot stacks them all up in hopes of only having to do one trip to his car. He almost succeeds, but at the very least he’d only have to come back inside once.

He loads the trays into his arms, having to crane his neck to see around the tower of food. Stumbling out the doorway, he shifts the food stack to one arm, leaning it on his hip so as to have a hand free to unlock the car. The trunk doesn’t resist being opened, yawning wide to allow the load.

Elliot jogs back inside, grabbing the last tray and 007n7's container, almost forgetting to lock his front door behind him. The last tray joins the rest in the trunk, while 007n7's share sits in the passenger seat, buckled up like someone would do with a wedding cake-Elliot frowns at the intrusion in his thoughts.

It hadn’t even been 5 minutes since Elliot left the support centre when 007n7's driveway began nearing, the looming building more imposing than ever. The car huffs as he pulls into the driveway, almost protesting coming here again, as if it, too, were tired. The hand brake clicks as it’s tugged, settling in place with a groan.

Elliot leans over, unbuckling the container and then himself. He pulls it into a one-armed embrace, resting it on his hip as he opens his door and approaches the stoop. A long, heavy exhale escapes his lips, and he lifts his free hand up to the door, hesitating for a heartbeat before finally rapping his knuckles against the wood.

A moment of silence passes, before-

The door swings open, revealing 007n7 standing just past the door frame, one hand resting on the handle, the other hanging loosely by his side. His posture tightens upon seeing who’s at the door, but he quickly catches himself.

“Hey, Elliot, did you want anything?” his voice lacks enthusiasm. 

“No, actually, quite the opposite,” Elliot nods toward the container poised on his hip. “I was baking and thought you might like some.” 007n7's eyes widen, caught off guard. He stares at Elliot as if trying to strip away his words to find some hidden intent behind them, but his search is futile. After a pause of reluctance, he reaches out-one hand at first, then the other. His arms bow slightly as the weight is placed on them, like he wasn’t expecting such a large amount. He pulls it close to him, resting it on himself just as Elliot had.

“...Thanks,” 007n7 mumbles, gaze planted on the floor. Elliot hums in acknowledgement.

“‘s nothing,” he turns, then pauses, looking back at the man in the doorway. “Bye, 007n7,” he doesn’t wait for a response, eager to be back in his car. He couldn’t have opened the door faster, already slipping into his seat. He adjusts the rear-view mirror, then looks back at the house to see 007n7 still standing in the doorway, expression one of mild surprise. He catches Elliot looking, offering a half-hearted wave as he watches the car reverse out.

Elliot grits his teeth, quick to flee the scene. He flicks the radio on, flipping through channels aimlessly. He eventually settles on one playing some 80’s rock, but he doesn’t listen-he just wants to go home.

Elliot switches off his phone, letting it drop forward on his chest. He’d been scrolling mindlessly through random social media apps on his phone, but his thoughts were far from the cat videos on his screen. 

He can’t take this anymore. The constant worry, fear, and guilt about a man he never even agreed to save, forced to prevent a suicide he had no interest in-and worst of all-he has to do it alone.

Does he?

Elliot freezes, remembering his interaction with Guest in his last loop:
“I’ll listen. Whatever it is, I’ll try to understand, I promise I will.”

Did he really mean it?

Elliot frowns. He hadn’t spoken to Guest at all this loop-it was last loop that he said that-how can he be expected to uphold a promise he hasn't yet made? Then again, he’s still the same person, even with the rewinding of time. Elliot knows Guest-always willing to help. He unlocks his phone.

‘Can I come over’

The message is marked as read instantly, and the reply comes just as fast.

‘Why? It’s late’

Elliot looks at the top of his phone screen, which is marked with the time: 12:36.

‘I just really need to talk.’ he exhales, chest tight with anticipation of Guest’s response.

‘Yeah sure’

The response is blunt, but clear. Elliot doesn’t waste time getting freshened up or anything, already heading out the door, keys in hand.

The moon-full, and blinding white-hangs low in the sky, projecting the shadows of clustered clouds on the ground. As Guest’s house creeps closer, Elliot is able to make out a silhouette leaning against the front door. He pulls into the driveway, almost forgetting to put his car in park before jumping out.

Guest’s features come into focus as Elliot nears-tired, but alert. 

“Hey-” he can barely get the word out before Elliot collapses into his arms, wrapping his own around his neck. He blinks, taken aback, but quickly returns the embrace, squeezing the man reassuringly. Elliot pulls back slightly, and Guest is able to get a proper look at him-not sad, no, but exhausted, face hollow. Guest opens his mouth to question, but is cut off:
“I’ll speak about it inside,” Elliot’s voice is husky, stripped of its usual flourish by tiredness. He peels himself off of Guest, who nods and leads the way into his house.

It's exactly how Elliot remembers-only much darker. The only light seeps into the hallway through the kitchen, and he has a feeling it was where the man was when he texted him. The two stalk into the room, feet dragging heavily against the floorboards. Guest pulls a chair, offering a seat before sinking into one of his own. He watches Elliot sit down, waiting patiently for him to explain.

“I know that what I’m about to tell you sounds made-up, and you probably won’t believe me, but you promised me that you’d try,” he props his head up with his elbow, leaning against the kitchen island.

“When did I say that?” Guest asks, genuine curiosity threaded into his words.

“It’s part of the story.”
“I don’t remember saying that, but it does sound like me,” Guest’s gaze wonders thoughtfully, “I will try my hardest to listen and believe you,” Elliot breathes a sigh of relief at the observation, glad that they had come to the same conclusion.

“...If you were in a time loop, what would you do?”
The room seems to fall silent at the question, even the faint singing of crickets going quiet.

“Are you…in a time loop..?” Guest’s voice is hardly above a whisper, his eyes locked seriously on Elliot’s.

“I know I sound crazy, but I’m like 99% sure I am stuck in one.” he meets Guest’s eyes, the man seeming to pause in thought.

“How do you know-I mean, what time is repeating for you, and what loop are you on right now?” 

“This is my third time experiencing this week; It starts when I’m woken up by my work alarm on Monday, and I’m pretty sure it ends at 12 on Sunday. It’s like…” he searches for the right words. “Well, the first time I did this week, it was normal-well, other than c00lkidd being missing. I think the loop started when I found 007n7's body, and-”
“Body?!” Guest straightens in his seat, alarm evident in his posture.

“Well, I was working normal the whole week, except-there were no incidents. c00lkidd left me alone, and I didn’t see his father at any point-well, obviously I saw him on Sunday-doesn’t matter.”

“I asked you what was wrong and if you saw him, but you said nothing was wrong that you knew of, so I went to check up on him on the weekend, since I was curious, and the front door was unlocked, and he was just…dead in his bedroom. I’m pretty sure the trigger was pulled around 12, at least after 11:58.”

“Wait wait wait-slow down, I’m going to write this down,” Guest rises suddenly from his seat, the legs of the chair scraping gratingly against the floor. He disappears into a room, not bothering to turn the light on, and reemerges a minute later, holding up a small notebook and a pencil that looks like it has been run over by a car at least 20 times.

“Okay, go on,” he says after a moment of scribbling something unintelligible onto a page halfway through the book. “Wait, what do you think caused the suicide? It was suicide, right?” Elliot furrows his brow at the handwriting, but continues anyway.

“...Yes, it did appear to be a suicide both the times I checked. I’m pretty sure that it’s because c00lkidd went missing, I asked 007n7 and he said that he went missing on Saturday,” Guest continues scribbling messily on the page. “The Saturday before the loop, not during,” Elliot quickly clarifies. “I don’t know why I’m the one who has to do this, though.” 

“I’m guessing that it could be because you know him better than anyone else-obviously not counting c00lkidd-or maybe because you found the body?” Guest offers.

“Yeah, yeah, that must be it. I’m just annoyed that there isn’t anyone else going through the loop, and I have to do it by myself,” he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“You don’t have to do it by yourself,” Guest’s voice is quiet, but sure. “I’m helping you with a plan.”
“Thank you,” Elliot’s smile is dulled by exhaustion.

“So, what've you done so far?” Guest looks up from his writing. Elliot cringes, sheepishly avoiding eye contact.

“Well, on the first try, I didn’t do anything-”
“You didn’t know, it doesn’t count.”
“I wasn’t much better on my second try, I…” he grimaces. “I was selfish, and lazy. All I really did was ask how he was feeling and…” Elliot chooses not to elaborate on what happened at the store. “I guess I was busy wallowing in self-pity,” his words are barely audible.

“That’s completely okay. Any normal person would have a similar reaction-after all, you saw his body and then travelled back in time,” Guest reassures.

“No, it’s absolutely my fault. I was brought back in time for a reason, and I thought it was my only chance, I didn’t know it was a loop,” Guest opens his mouth to interject, but Elliot continues before he has the chance, “I did next to nothing, and blew what I thought was my one go at saving him,” his voice is leaden with sorrow.

“Don’t worry,” Guest rests his hand on Elliot’s shoulder momentarily, “What are the controls? Like, what has stayed the same?” he elaborates. Elliot’s expression is distant, likely recalling the events of the previous loops.

“Well, 007n7 always seems to die at the same time-I’d assume 12-and he seems to have gone to the store at around 10 on Monday both times, and also c00lkidd is missing in both, but that happens before the loop starts so I’m not sure if that counts,” Elliot counts the events on his fingers.

Guest hums, working away at the notebook with handwriting so messy it appeared to be just random lines on the page. Eventually, he looks back up at Elliot.

“I have a loose idea of a plan, just something you should aim to follow in your future loops,” Elliot leans in, focused intently on what was to be said next. “I know this part is obvious, but it’s likely your best shot at succeeding. You have to spend as much time with 007n7 as possible, ideally seeing him more than once-” Elliot winces.

“-even though you were going through something, you are right about that being a pathetic attempt,” Guest states flatly. “It’s alright if you don’t get it this time, but you should at the very least try.”
“What do you mean? What should I do?” Elliot pleads.

“For now, just get some rest; You won’t be much good if you’re sleep deprived,” Guest’s tone leaves no room for arguing, despite how much Elliot wants to.

“...Alright, Thank you,” Elliot says after a moment, looking up from where his gaze had previously laid in his lap. Guest goes to speak, but is interrupted. “No really, thanks so much for the help, you don’t know how lost I’ve been.” Elliot’s voice is sincere, and Guest nods solemnly.

“Anytime, and I mean that-talk to me in other loops if you need, or you can just call me at any time during this one and I’ll be glad to help,” he offers a lighthearted smile, one that Elliot tries his best to return. “Now, it’s time you go home and sleep. Bye, Elliot.”
“...Bye, Guest, and thanks again,” Elliot stands, brushing invisible dust off of his pants and dipping his head subtly. He turns, making his way out of the house and to his car. Guest doesn’t follow, but Elliot doesn’t want him to. He slides into the driver’s seat, switching on his car, which lights up as it starts with a rumble of indignation.

Chapter Text

Elliot jolts awake at the sound of his alarm, leaning it over and turning it off without hesitation. It’s 09:40, and he had set the alarm later than usual so he wouldn’t have to stand around being useless for the whole morning, something he wishes he could force on Mondays.

Last night, after speaking to Guest, Elliot decided he’d try his luck finding 007n7 at the store in the morning, at around the same time he saw him last time. He jumps out of bed, not bothering to change, or even grab a bite of breakfast, and instead hurriedly brushing his teeth, not wanting to waste any time. 

Almost forgetting his phone, Elliot slips into his shoes and out of the front door. Soft rain speckles the pavement, and his car waits patiently, seemingly aware of his plans. It welcomes him into its seat, cupping him in its grasp. Without so much as a look back at his house, Elliot pulls onto the street.

The only sound in the car is the faint crunching of asphalt below tires, leaving him too alone with his thoughts. He frowns, reaching for his phone that he had haphazardly tossed onto the passenger seat, and pulling up his music app. Keeping his eyes on the road, he turns on the first artist his finger happens to find in his recently listened.

As the electrical melody fills the air, Elliot finds himself relaxing. The town rolls by his windows as he cruises-people on morning walks, house cats lounging on parked cars, and children playing in gardens. He’d always found the sight of mornings endearing-as if even the buildings were waking up to welcome the sun.

The town square nears, along with the wind. It howls, splattering rain messily on the windshield. Elliot hurries to flick on the windscreen wipers, which don’t do anything more than spread the water further. He huffs, but some rain won’t stop him from his duties at hand.

Pulling into the parking lot, the earlier sight of people taking their time to enjoy the environment around them is replaced with people running to their cars as if the ground were made of hot coals.

Elliot parks front-in, hopping out and bracing his shoulders against the downpour. Luckily, at this time-and more importantly weather-he had managed to secure a spot relatively close to the store entrance.

Upon his presence, the sliding glass doors part, allowing him in. The air inside is relievingly thin in comparison to the humidity of outside, and much less rain-heavy. He grabs a basket as he passes the stack, not caring much for subtlety when he's just going to walk up to 007n7 the moment he sees him.

Elliot’s fingers find his phone in his pocket, retrieving it with ease and clicking the screen on. He’s right on time-10:02- perfect. He looks up, scanning what he can see of the store for any sign of 007n7, but not finding him.

He’s probably already shopping.

Elliot decides against just standing uselessly in everyone’s way, opting to wander the store in search of the man he came for.

Elliot stares at the doors, a frown twisting his features. He’d just walked the length of it, and there was not one sign of the exploiter. Checking his phone, he’s met with the time-10:21. 

Every minute-no, second -that is wasted lying in wait is further solidifying a death that he's meant to prevent. Just one more lap. One more circling of the store, and if 007n7 isn't here by the time he's done, Elliot will just go seek him out at his home, subtlety be damned.

007n7 isn't walking through the doors when Elliot approaches-he's going to have to go to his house. He might look crazy if anyone were to see him talking to the man he's supposedly hated his whole life, but a level of crazy he didn't yet want to achieve is circling the store for-Elliot checks his phone- 34 minutes and walk out empty-handed.

A convenient display of chocolate bars catches his eye-half price, and not a regrettable purchase-he grabs Marvellous Creations. A cashier would only serve to lengthen his visit, and would likely also inconvenience the worker, so he chooses self-checkout, flying through the process.

His car waits dormant, its red surface slick with rainwater. It shields him from the rain pelting the ground. He doesn't wait for the engine to warm-already en route to 007n7. 

This time around, Elliot spots no pedestrians-at least other than the construction workers. The roads are quiet, with the odd car passing occasionally, its beams piercing through the shower.

It’s only a short drive to 007n7's house-15 minutes at most-and time seems to melt away in this weather. It’s almost peaceful, sitting in a warm, dry car with music, and the ambience of rainfall pattering on the windows, and Elliot finds himself reluctant to leave the sanctuary inside upon pulling into the driveway.

He sighs, letting his head fall back against the headrest, dropping a hand from the wheel and bringing it up to card through his hair, steeling himself. His hand finds the door handle, pulling it open with a swift tug. He steps out of the car, his shoes making a dull thud on the pavement.

007n7's stoop beckons him over, and he listens. The rain barely makes an impact on his shoulders-more an idea than a reality. Elliot stares at the door for a moment, before lifting his fist to knock. His arm hesitates in the air, swaying slightly from the weather. Exhaling, he finally knocks.

The only sound is the rain falling. 

A beat passes, and Elliot brings his knuckles back down on the wood, his arm still poised from the earlier bout.

No response.

Weird.

He doesn’t have the time for this. 007n7 probably went to the store while Elliot was on his way, something almost comical. Whatever, he’s got a job to do. 

Frustrated, he slides into the driver’s seat, the car ready to reverse from the engine he left on. 

This time, Elliot’s parked practically at the door. He enters, momentarily scanning the area. His gaze falls upon an employee, and he beelines for them.

“Excuse me?” 

The woman turns to him, immediately flashing him a customer service smile. 

“Hello sir, can I help you with anything?”

“Have you seen a man walk in? He’s kinda tall, and he wears a burger hat and glasses.” No point in being subtle now. The woman’s eyes widen, clearly caught off-guard, but she doesn’t falter.

“Yes, actually, he came in earlier, but he left around 10 minutes ago,” she flashes him a sympathetic look upon seeing Elliot’s expression. “Sorry,” she adds.

“Thanks for the help,” he states bluntly, already spinning on his heel to leave. He hears shuffling behind him, presumably the employee going back to doing whatever they were before being interrupted.

The doors part before him, allowing him back out into the downpour. It swallows him whole, clinging onto him even inside the comfort of his car. 

Elliot groans in annoyance, throwing his head back with a huff. 10 minutes. He’s 10 minutes too late.

A loud ringing accompanied with an incessant vibration in his pocket pierces the air. He fumbles for his phone, struggling to free it from the folds of fabric. The screen displays an incoming call, from…Lulu? He accepts without further thought.

“Are you doing anything right now?”

He looks around at the car park around him.

“...Not at the moment, no.”

“007n7 came in earlier asking for your whereabouts.”

Elliot freezes, words escaping his mouth before he could stop them. “Holy shit…”

“What was that?”

“Nothing, nothing. Do you know where he is right now?”

“Why?”

“Not important right now, I’ll tell you later.”

“...He didn’t say, but probably at home?”

“Thanks so much,” he hangs up without waiting for a response. The phone screen dims in his hand, and he tosses it onto the passenger seat. Immediately pulling out of the lot, Elliot’s driving is much more urgent than earlier, in the hopes of catching 007n7 before he manages to elude him again. 

Finally arriving, Elliot flings his door open, almost forgetting to grab his phone and shut the door on the way out. He jogs to the entryway, skipping the steps and already raising his hand to knock.

Before his fist can connect with the door, it swings open, and Elliot almost hits 007n7 in the face. He flushes immediately with embarrassment.

“Hey, Elliot,” 007n7's features are twisted in concern; He almost got punched in the face by a man drenched from head to toe.

“007n7,” Elliot breathes. “Why did you want to see me?” 007n7 seems all the more confused by the question.

“It was you who wanted to see me?” 

“What?” Now it’s Elliot’s turn to be confused. “How did you know that?”

“Some muscular guy came up to me while I was at the shop and said you were looking for me.”

“...Yes, that’s true,” water seeps further into his clothes, fusing them to his skin. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Do you…want to come inside, or something?” 007n7 looks him up and down. Elliot hesitates. He’s only ever seen the inside of this house in circumstances he’d rather not discuss now, but he can’t just leave.

“Yeah alright.” He follows 007n7 in, noting how the house looks just as untouched as it did the previous times he’d been.

“Would you like a coffee or anything?” 007n7’s voice rings out clearly from the kitchen. Elliot’s silent for a moment, still surveying the area, before replying.

“That’d be nice,” he looks up to see the man waiting in the doorway, who nods and turns back to put the kettle on. He stalks further into the house, into the living room. The remote sits in the same place on the coffee table where it was last Sunday. Elliot frowns, moving to the couch, hesitating before falling back onto it, deciding the water can always be wiped up.

Silence ensues, the whole house quiet other than the sound of the rain outside. A minute passes, and the kettle pops.

“How do you like your coffee?” 007n7's head sticks out from the kitchen. Elliot blinks, ripped out of his trance.

“Just a flat white,” he mutters. “And sorry about the mess.”

“‘s alright,” 007n7 disappears back into the kitchen, before returning with two mugs in hand. He passes one to Elliot, who takes it gratefully. The two are quiet for a second, sipping awkwardly on their drinks. 

“So, why’d you want to see me?” 007n7 breaks the silence. Elliot pauses, searching for the right words.

“I…just wanted to check up on you and see how you’re going,” he lifts his gaze from his hands, meeting 007n7’s eyes, watching as he tenses.

“I’m doing just fine,” he looks away.

“Are you sure that’s true?”

He flinches. Then caves.

“c00lkidd is missing. It’s fine, though, he usually goes out and exploits for a while,” he seems to be trying to convince himself more than Elliot.

“How long’s he been gone?” He already knows the answer, but asks anyway. 007n7 is quiet for a while, before:

“...Saturday.”
“Has he ever been missing this long?” 007n7 bristles at the question.

“Well, no, but it’s fine. I’m sure he’ll be back, he’s a capable kid, he knows his way home, and he’s perfectly able to find his way around.” His voice falters.

“It’s okay, I’m here to talk if you want,” Elliot coaxes softly. 007n7's brows knit in confusion.

“Are you being paid extra for this?” The words come out too quiet. Elliot stiffens.

“Is it really so hard to believe I’m being genuine?”

“Yes.” The word comes without hesitation. “You hate me, and it isn’t hard to imagine why.”

“I never said that,” he whispers, placing his still-full mug on the coffee table. 007n7 quirks an eyebrow in clear surprise.

“I don’t want to complain or anything…”

“That’s what I came to hear,” Elliot encourages. A brief pause follows, and a tear escapes 007n7's eye, slipping down his cheek, carving a hot path.

“I’m just-really scared. I don’t know what to do, he’s never been gone this long, and it’s not like I can go and ask around to see where he is because he’s an exploiter- I’m an exploiter-if anyone’s seen him, they’ve probably reported him already.” The words tumble out of him, and Elliot leans closer, placing a sympathetic hand on his knee.

“You’re right, and it’s completely okay to be scared-any good parent in your situation would be, too. You just want what’s right for him, and maybe what’s right for him is to be here for him when he comes back. It’d be a shame for him to be gone all this time, and come back to see you not here for him.” Something in 007n7's face hardens.

“I want to go search the outskirts of the town,” his tone leaves no room for argument. Elliot takes the hint, opening his mouth to object, but deciding it’s best to just leave him be. He stands from the couch, reaching for his mug, but 007n7’s voice stops him. “I can take care of that.”

“I’ll be going, then,” Elliot says reluctantly, stepping out of the living room, turning and casting a glance over his shoulder at the man. He doesn’t reply, instead giving a half-hearted wave. Elliot’s heart twists with worry, but he continues out anyway.