Febuwhump Day 11: Time Loop ft. human!Impulse
SEQUEL to Day 7: Suffering in Silence
Summary:
In which Impulse finally gets the help he needs.
TWs: Suicidal ideation, suicide, I screwed with time again (but that's the prompt's fault)
He wakes up in pain, clutching his hand to his chest as he pants heavily, looking up at the unfinished ceiling of his tiny bedroom hidden away in the wall of his storage room. He isn't in physical pain, although it feels like he's being torn apart from the inside. Instead, his head screams and cries out in pain, unbidden emotions surfacing and breaking through his facade, dancing and raging throughout his mind.
It's pain, it hurts, and it won't go away. He's tried every coping mechanism he knows, everything from journaling to sketching to building to redstone. Nothing works, despite all four being coping methods he's used for years. Being with the other hermits is even more painful as every sentence and action threatens to break the dam, but he can't retreat into isolation. It would be too suspicious.
Nothing can free him from this prison of pain he's trapped in. The faithful, trustworthy skills he'd fallen back on time and time again were finally failing him, as they had been destined to do. He's fallen back into bad habits already, taking his blade to the underside of his forearm several nights of the week, strategically placing each cut so it could be easily brushed off as an accidental injury. He can't bear the thought of having hermits worry over him.
He wants to die. He needs to escape, and death is the only answer, the only way he'll be able to go from feeling everything to feeling nothing. Blissful, sweet nothing. He won't have to resort to pain. He won't have to scream into his strip mine. He won't have to journal for hours into the dark hours of the night. He won't have to deal with the prospect of the hermits worrying over him.
He can just leave and fix all his problems. He won't have to deal with the constant pain, the constant overload if he dies. He won't have to worry about being a problem that must be solved. Already, his brain is ticking through the methods he could employ, rotating through every possible death message that could happen unsuspiciously.
With a shaking hand, he gropes for his communicator and turns off his seven o'clock alarm, putting his arm across his eyes before pushing himself upright, swinging his legs out from under the covers and planting his feet on the cold floor, sending a shock through his body. He walks to the chest at the foot of his bed and pulls out a fresh set of clothes.
For a few minutes, he looks at his shirtless chest, slowly taking in the nicks and scratches he'd dealt himself. Finally, he shakes himself out of his stupor and gets dressed, pulling on his sneakers and tying them tightly. He swings his backpack onto his back and exits the tiny room, walking over to his storage system and taking out a golden carrot, biting into it and chewing slowly. Might as well make sure he's taking care of himself on his final day. Might as well finish a few projects while he's at it.
Pistons fire as someone activates his redstone door, and Skizz walks in, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he looks around the space. His face lights up as his eyes land on Impulse, and he runs over, red-tinted eyes glowing in the brightly lit storage area. He plops down on the floor in front of Impulse, watching him eat his breakfast with patient, but eager, eyes. Impulse sinks to the floor to join him, elbows resting on his knees as he looks at Skizz expectantly, finishing the last of his golden carrot.
"So, I gotta get a kill," Skizz begins, his eyes flashing on the word 'kill'. "And you kinda, sorta, owe me, m'kay?"
Impulse chuckles, shaking his head. "For what?"
"You murdered me! And- and- and-" his best friend exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air.
Impulse smiles smugly, asking, "So?"
"HEY!" Skizz yells, punching him in the shoulder.
Impulse winces as he hits one of the many cuts on his shoulder. He covers it up by saying, "Welcome to Hermitcraft!" Skizz sputters indignantly for a few seconds, then shakes himself out, returning to the topic at hand.
"You gotta help me get a kill," he pleads, looking at Impulse with bright blue puppy eyes. "C'mon man! We can get Scar; he's an easy target."
Impulse laughs, forcing joy into his voice. "Sure, let's get brainstorming."
They brainstorm for a good hour, bouncing trap ideas off each other and breaking them down until they're certain it's completable. At the moment, they're stuck on a spleef kill, but there's no way to disguise the trap and remove the floor before the victim – hopefully Scar – escapes.
They're interrupted by a simultaneous ding from each of their communicators.
GoodTimeWithScar blew up
"Ohh, come on!" Skizz cries, falling backwards to lie on the cool floor of Impulse's storage room. He runs a hand through his hair, standing it on end before pushing himself up, swiping open his communicator and checking the list of players. To confirm the message, Scar's name is bright red in its place near the top of the list next to his smirking profile picture. Skizz groans again, putting the back of his hand to his forehead dramatically.
Impulse opens his communicator and scans the player list, looking at all the white names who have yet to die and become Reapers. He lands on Joel, immediately remembering the countless failed traps that would sprout from his death. The hilarity would help take the edge off his death.
"We could go for Joel," he suggests, beginning to sketch on the paper in front of him. "An XP farm would be a great place to get him to stand still, then you drop him into a pit. Simple enough, and if we trap the bottom, he's definitely gonna die."
Skizz brightens up, watching him finish the drawing. "That sounds awesome, dude. Just one problem: where will we get the XP farm?"
Impulse grins wolfishly, happy that this final idea is being taken well. Hopefully, the quality time will help Skizz miss him less when he's gone. "I've already got one. Follow me."
He goes outside to the mountain, climbing up the side beside the waterfall and walking behind the watery curtain to reveal a zombie grinder. He gestures grandly to it and Skizz walks in, taking in the simple, yet effective, farm with wide eyes.
"Dude! This has just been here?" he whisper-shouts, flipping through the chests on the side of the room.
Impulse nods, walking over to the slabs in front of the farm. "Gem found it the other day and asked me to turn it into a farm." He removes the slabs in front of the killing chamber, exposing a good fifteen-metre drop into the cave below. "It won't be enough to kill him, but if we put stuff at the bottom, he should die."
Skizz rubs his hands together gleefully, taking out several stacks of cobblestone. "Let's get to it, then."
===
Several hours later, Joel is screaming at them as he dies in the pit of zombies, disappearing in a cloud of smoke. He sprints back, arriving as Impulse kills the last of the zombies and retrieves his gear, pillaring back to the top and replacing the slabs. The three of them share a good laugh when their communicators interrupt them with a trio of chimes.
<Xisuma> emergency hermit meeting at spawn
<Xisuma> ASAP
The new hermits look at each other confusedly as Joel finishes putting his inventory back in order. Impulse shudders, mind ticking through the possible reasons for an emergency meeting. Could the code have told X what his plans were? In that case, did that mean the Admin knew he was going to die tonight? Impulse shook himself off, leading the way out of the cave and climbing onto the back of his horse. Skizz and Joel join him a few minutes later and they ride off to spawn full of anxiety, albeit for different reasons.
"Hermits, we have an emergency," Xisuma states once they've gathered, crossing his arms as his helmeted gaze travels around the group. He takes a strained breath and says quietly, "We have a suicidal hermit. I only received the alert this morning, so I can hope they aren't too serious about it – yet. But we need to take action."
A nod travels around the crowd before the Admin speaks again. "To the hermit in question, I hope you know that this is a safe space. All of us are willing to help you if you want to come forward. If not, I understand. But please, please ask for help."
"How do you know it isn't just someone who wants to become a Reaper?" Grian asks, sweeping his bangs out of his eyes and nervously looking around the circle.
"The alert only shows up if the player wants it to be permanent," Xisuma explains. His brow creases as he frowns in frustration. "The code won't tell me who it is, though, due to measures designed to keep Admins from messing with the minds of their players. Whoever it is will have to come forward on their own."
"Until then, we have no way to know?" Scar checks, stretching the bottom of his shirt.
"Just check in with each other, okay?" the Admin requests, shifting his stance. "Check in, make sure you're doing alright, and hopefully we'll find our hermit. One last thing," he adds. "The game of Demise II is put on hold. I know you all are having fun, but we need to sort this out first before we continue to play."
The hermits agree one by one, players and Reapers alike nodding in assent. With that, Xisuma dismisses the meeting, turning to hermits like Keralis and Ren to check in with them. Around him, hermits begin talking to each other, gently checking in and answering.
Skizz nudges Impulse's shoulder. "How are you feeling, homey buddy?" he asks, looking directly into Impulse's eyes.
"I'm good," Impulse replies, lying through his teeth. Thankfully, Skizz misses it, and Impulse allows himself a short celebration. "You?"
"Just worried," his best friend admits, eyes flicking down to his feet before going back to meet Impulse's. "You'd tell me if something was wrong, right?"
Again, Impulse lies, saying, "Of course. I wouldn't hold it back from you."
Skizz breathes a sigh of relief, putting an arm around his shoulders. "Thanks Dippledop."
Grian makes his way over to them, Mumbo, Scar, and Gem trailing behind him. He gestures to Joel somewhere behind them, waving him over. Once they're all together, he begins to speak. "I don't think any of us should be alone. How about we hang out tonight?" he proposes. "We can do dinner together, then hang out and have a campfire night."
"Sounds good," Impulse answers for the group. "We can watch each other's backs."
Light, amiable chatting fills their group as they return to the Magical Mountain, leaving their horses at its base and hiking to the campsite at its peak. Gem and Grian immediately busy themselves with preparing a meal using a stack of fish Grian had fished up from his countless hours of grinding for the mending book. The rest of them sit around the happily going campfire, chatting calmly with each other. Impulse can tell they're listening, though. He can tell they're on the lookout. He can't help but feel guilty. They're all worrying for nothing. He needs to die. He needs to be free.
The night together is relaxing as the sun sets in a gorgeous cascade of colours, giving way to twilight, which rapidly becomes a clear, starry night. They stargaze together as, one by one, they drop off into sleep, nestled beneath blankets on the mountain's peak. Impulse looks at the sleeping faces of his friends, tears welling up in his eyes as he takes in their faces for the final time.
Sighing dejectedly, he pushes himself up, walks to the edge of the cliff, and stands there for a moment, taking in the beauty of the world shrouded in darkness. He closes his eyes as he leaps off, feeling the rushing wind past his body. Sharp, unfiltered pain fills his body, then it's all gone. The torturous pain he suffers through every day is gone.
impulseSV fell from a high place
◀◀◀-
He wakes up in pain, hand clutched to his chest as he takes deep, steadying breaths. Every bone in his body aches with phantom pain as he processes the height he'd fallen from the previous night. It had to have been at least a hundred, maybe a hundred and fifty metres from the peak of Magical Mountain to the plains below, so it must have been a severe break-
Hold on a moment.
He'd wanted to die when he jumped. If the world – and respawn – was working properly, he shouldn't be awake at all. He should be dead and buried now, life spilt across the grass, never to return to his body. He shouldn't be feeling the torturous mental pain – accompanied by the phantom pain from his fall – at all. He should be dead.
But he isn't.
He groans. Maybe some glitch had preserved his life, forcing him to suffer through another day of life and agony, prey to his mind; his thoughts and emotions. Slowly, he stands, taking in the bruises covering his shoulders and back. At least the injuries hadn't healed all the way. Maybe the world wouldn't glitch again tonight when he tried again, so he could finally escape the hell. In the meantime, he'll ensure the hermits don't miss him when he's gone. Quality time, amirite?
Skizz barges in while he's eating breakfast, slowly picking at a loaf of bread. He sits on the floor by Impulse as he finishes his food, red-tinted eyes glowing in the brightly lit storage area. Impulse shakes his head as he scans Skizz. Hadn't Skizz killed Joel and joined the dead team, removing his subtle red glow? Slowly, he sits beside his best friend, waiting for him to begin talking.
"So, I gotta get a kill," he says. Impulse forces himself to remain still, yesterday's conversation rising in his mind.
"A kill?" he echoes, cutting Skizz off before he can plough on.
Skizz nods vigorously, saying, "Yeah! And you kinda, sorta, owe me, m'kay? For killing me earlier?"
"Ah," is all Impulse can say, leaning back on his hands and nodding slowly. "Who did you want to get?"
"I was hoping to get Scar-face," he whispers deviously. "He'll be easy enough to trap, right?"
Impulse laughs, trying to ignore the tiny, suspicious voice in the back of his head. He pushes it aside, trying to focus on spending these final hours with Skizz. It may be weirdly familiar, but he can take it. "Let's brainstorm then," he says, pulling his figurative mask over his thoughts and pulling out draft paper from his storage system.
An hour later, they settle on a spleef kill, trying to figure out ways to quickly and effectively remove the floor with their limited early-season items. Their communicators ding simultaneously.
GoodTimeWithScar blew up
"Ohh, come on!" Skizz cries, falling backwards dramatically. Hurriedly, Impulse checks his communicator. Scar's name is, as expected, bright red. However, towards the bottom, Skizz's name is bright red, while Joel's... is still white. Impulse frowns slightly, then clears his expression. Again, it's probably a glitch. Xisuma will have it fixed in no time. Hopefully, the Admin doesn't receive another alert. He can continue to fly under the radar.
"Joel hasn't died yet," he finds himself suggesting to his distraught friend. "We get him into the XP farm I made with Gem, then spleef him while he's farming the zombies."
"You have a spawner?" Skizz asks, eyes lighting up with glee.
Impulse looks at him, confused. "I thought you knew?" he asks.
"This is the first time I've heard of it!" Skizz responds cheerfully. "C'mon dude, let's go get this kill!"
"Alright," Impulse responds nervously, leading the way to the side of the mountain the farm was built into. A sinking feeling in his gut was gradually digging itself deeper, but he did his best to ignore it. He couldn't let the pain get in the way of his last day.
===
<Xisuma> emergency hermit meeting at spawn
<Xisuma> ASAP
"That's weird," Impulse says before he can stop himself. Joel and Skizz stop their bickering to look at him strangely before checking their communicators. "I mean- we don't usually have emergency meetings," he amends, covering up his out-of-pocket statement.
The violent butterflies in his stomach flutter harder, making him slightly nauseous as he leads the way out of the cave, waiting for the others to mount up before riding to spawn, keeping his head down out of anxiety. He can feel Skizz's eyes boring into his back and sits up straighter, trying to put on a brave face for the new hermits.
"Hermits, we have an emergency," Xisuma begins the second they're congregated in a massive lump of hermits. "We have a suicidal hermit. I only received the alert this morning, so I can hope they aren't too serious about it – yet. But we need to take action." He takes a deep breath. "To the hermit in question, I hope you know that this is a safe space. All of us are willing to help you if you want to come forward. If not, I understand. But please, please ask for help."
"How do you know it isn't just someone who wants to become a Reaper?" Grian questions.
"The alert only shows up if the player wants it to be permanent. The code won't tell me who it is, though, due to measures designed to keep Admins from messing with the minds of their players. Whoever it is will have to come forward on their own."
"Until then, we have no way to know?" Scar asks again, playing with his shirt.
"Just check in with each other, okay? Check in, make sure you're doing alright, and hopefully, we'll find our hermit." He takes another breath, then adds. "One last thing: the game of Demise II is put on hold. I know you all are having fun, but we need to sort this out before we continue to play." With that, he turns to check in with Keralis and Ren.
"How you feeling, homey buddy?" Skizz asks, approaching him from behind and nudging his shoulder.
"Fine," Impulse answers – just a tad too quickly. "Just worried, y'know?"
Skizz nods slowly, eyes misting over as he looks into the distance. "Same here." He pauses, then asks, "You'd tell me if something was wrong, right?"
"Yeah, of course," he lies, avoiding eye contact. "I'm just worried, honestly."
Worried for an entirely different reason than Skizz thought, but worried nonetheless.
Grian comes over and invites them all to dinner again, and the night goes off without a hitch. Again, Impulse finds himself standing at the precipice overlooking the plains and bases again. With a final whispered "I'm sorry," he jumps.
impulseSV fell from a high place
◀◀◀-
He almost cries when he wakes up again, every centimetre of his body throbbing with pain and bruising. It fades slightly as he looks on, player magic healing the worst of the marks. This time, he checks his communicator, eyes widening as he realises it's the same date as yesterday. The glitch struck again. Maybe jumping off Magical Mountain wasn't the way to go.
"Please, just let me escape!" he pleads, staring at the ceiling in despair. Groaning, he pries himself out of bed and goes to his storage room to grab breakfast, watching the last of his bruises recede as Skizz enters the room, red eyes reflecting the light. He can tell it isn't a glow now; it's just a result of the fluorescent lighting.
The same conversation, the same death message, the same plan. Now, they're standing in the zombie farm, building up the walls around the pit they'd reopened beneath the killing platform. Impulse places down a bucket of water, then climbs out after Skizz, giving his best friend the go-ahead to release the zombie build-up into the trap.
Skizz laughs maniacally as he reseals the farm, looking down at the twenty-odd undead roaming the pool beneath them. Impulse grins in response, looking at the lethal mobs beneath them. There's no way Joel will be able to survive, even with his obvious combat prowess. The man takes on horses and emerges unscathed.
"Code word is 'Delicious'," Skizz confirms, accepting the offered pickaxe.
Impulse nods, taking out his communicator to message Joel and ask if he needs XP. Soon enough, the man of the hour shows up, shortly after Skizz had hidden himself beneath the stone floor, crouching with the pickaxe braced at the ready. The two chat briefly as Impulse shows him around the simple area.
"So I just swing here?" Joel asks, brandishing his sword and stepping onto the cobblestone platform.
"Yep," Impulse replies, waiting for him to move further over the trap. "You want to get closer to it."
Joel takes a half step forward, taking his first swing.
"Belly up to it," Impulse invites. "Soak up all that delicious XP."
Skizz breaks the floor beneath Joel's feet, causing him to plummet into the pit of growling zombies. The Reaper is laughing maniacally as the player falls, quickly swinging around to fight the mobs.
"Skizz, is that you?!" Joel screams, outraged – albeit in a joking way.
"Yeah baby!" Skizz cheers, watching Joel die to a vicious zombie bite and feeling the rush of Admin magic that clears him of his Reaper status. He jumps up and high-fives Impulse before wandering to the cave's entrance to greet Joel when he returns. Already, they can hear him yelling in frustration from across the mountain.
Quickly, Impulse digs down beside the pit, drawing his sword as he reaches the level right above the zombies' reach. A thought strikes him in the chest, nearly knocking him into the trap. He could jump in with the mobs and allow them to maul him to death, leaving Skizz and Joel helpless; the death would happen too quickly.
"You okay down there, Dippledop?" Skizz calls, his voice echoing on the stone walls.
Impulse shakes off the thoughts. Quality time is what matters. "Yeah, I'll be right up."
"Okay!" Skizz shouts back cheerfully, turning back to his friendly conversation with Joel. Impulse inhales, holds his breath, and exhales. His sword flashes in the dim lighting as he slays the mobs. The last one falls beneath his blade, then he climbs in, collects Joel's gear, and climbs back out, trying to shake off his desperate need for escape.
===
Impulse stares off the mountain into the sunset, half-listening to the hermits bantering behind him as they prepare the campfire and dinner. He can't help but feel like something is off, like he's stuck in a time loop or something. Regardless, the complete reset each day can't be ignored, despite how hard he tries. He's tried to die twice and come back both times, feeling the pain of his death and the mental torture he's all but accustomed to.
"Whatcha thinking about?" Skizz asks, sitting beside him and dangling his legs off the edge and joining him in watching the colours spread across the sky.
"I'm just worried," he replies lamely. Again, Xisuma had called the emergency meeting about the suicidal hermit, giving them the same information as before. If anything, that was just more confirmation that he was stuck, trapped in a time loop of this wretched day.
"Yeah, I get that," Skizz murmurs, hand groping for his and squeezing tightly. "It's hard. This is one of the things that 'always happens to someone else'. It... doesn't really sink in as a real thing until it happens to someone close to you."
Impulse laughs lightly, ignoring the pain from his words. "The hermits are already close to your heart, aren't they?" he tries to joke, more worry than he intends seeping into his voice. He clears his throat as he waits for Skizz to respond.
"Yeah, you guys are family." Skizz releases his hand, wrapping his arm around Impulse's shoulders. He sighs. "I won't force you, but you really can come to me about anything. Seriously. I won't mind."
"I know," Impulse lies, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. "I just feel so helpless."
Skizz leans into the embrace, holding him tightly as the sounds of dinner being served come from behind them. "It'll be okay," he says reassuringly. "It'll be okay."
"I hope so."
Impulse jolts out of his reverie as Scar approaches them with Mumbo in tow. "Dinner's ready," the scarred man announces, sweeping his arm in a grand gesture toward the blazing campfire.
"I need to get something from my base," Impulse says, standing up and brushing himself off. "You guys can start without me; I'll be right back."
Grian purses his lips nervously. "None of us should be on our own," he objects. "I'll come with you."
Already, Impulse is shaking his head. "No, Grian, it's fine," he insists. "Seriously, the mountain's well-lit-up and I'll be careful while going down. I'll be fine."
"If you're sure..." the red-sweatered hermit says slowly, shoving his hands into his pockets.
"I'm sure. I'll be right back, promise."
"I'll hold you to it," Grian says seriously. Impulse nods, then begins making his way down the mountain to his base. He pauses at the mouth of the cave he'd knocked Skizz into in the first days of the server. Pointed dripstone juts up from the bottom of the drop, promising blood, pain, and relief.
"I'm sorry, everyone," he says, and falls. The dripstone impales his chest, tearing through his ribcage and emerging on the other side. Not dead yet, he struggles off the dripstone, staggering towards the dark of the cave system. Behind him, a bow thrums and an arrow hisses through the air.
impulseSV was shot by skeleton
◀◀◀-
He nearly screams when he wakes up again, feeling the sensation of drying blood on his t-shirt as his player magic removes it, leaving a deep scar on his chest. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, burying his head in his hands with a choked sob. It takes nearly ten minutes to pull himself together, then he wipes his face free of tears, heading out to wait for Skizz's arrival. It's no use pretending that he isn't stuck in a time loop. He doesn't bother to grab breakfast before his best friend shows up.
"You need a kill?" he asks before Skizz can ask.
"It's like you read my mind, dude!" the new hermit exclaims in wonder. Impulse laughs, grabbing paper from his storage system and beginning to bounce ideas back and forth with Skizz, killing time and waiting for Scar's demise. It seems to take forever before their communicators ding, then he's suggesting Joel a minute later.
The day passes in a haze, everything from building the trap to the end of Xisuma's emergency meeting, nothing new emerging besides altered dialogue. He rides back to Magical Mountain numbly with his friends, sitting in silence as they chat around him, slowly working through the shock and establishing that they're all, at the very least, doing okay.
"I'm going to grab a cake from my base," he states abruptly, swivelling his horse around and taking off to the building. The other hermits call out after him, but he manages a reassuring wave before he disappears into his base, breaking one of the redstone components so his door seals itself shut.
Once inside, he bursts into tears, unable to continue hiding the pain as it tears through his system, shredding his self-esteem and any semblance of strength he once had. He draws his sword shakily, balancing it on his knees as he hunches over it, crying messily into his hands. Still sobbing, he takes the blade and drives it into the inside of his leg. Blood spurts as he withdraws it, screaming. Beyond his door, he can hear his friends yelling as his heart continues to pump blood, creating a pulsing, gory fountain from his femoral artery.
Chills come over his body as he leans back, darkness creeping into his vision. It'll take them more than five minutes to break through his door. By then, he'll be dead; the femoral artery is too strong and wide to stop its bleeding on its own. Still crying, he succumbs to the darkness.
impulseSV bled to death
◀◀◀-
He doesn't bother restraining himself as he wakes up again, shooting upright and immediately ramming his head into the wall. A small cut opens and drips blood into his eye as he falls back onto his pillow and cries, rubbing the blood and tears away roughly.
"Why won't you let me die," he begs the universe, gritting his teeth in frustration. "Why won't you let me die?" His breathing quickens as the same question chases itself through his mind. "Why won't you let me DIE?!" he screams at the ceiling.
"Impulse!" Skizz yells from within his base, and Impulse curses himself for being so loud, pushing himself upright and preparing to greet his guest. Without warning, Skizz breaks into his room, swinging open the door aggressively and rushing to his side.
"Skizz," he greets, smiling weakly. "What are you doing here?"
"I was gonna ask for your help on something, but it looks like you need me more," he replies, reaching for him nervously.
"What do you mean?" Impulse asks, laughing nervously.
"Come on, don't act like I didn't just hear that," his best friend pleads, searching for eye contact and continuing to inch closer. "How long has this been going on?"
"How long has what been going on?"
"Impulse," Skizz says desperately, seriously, painfully, "how long have you wanted to kill yourself?"
Impulse breaks, descending into hollow laughter. "It's been so long; I don't know when it started. I'm trapped; I can't escape. I've had to live this day over and over, and the pain from all the real, normal days has just been piling on, and I can't take it anymore." He's still crying. "I just want it to be over. I want to rest. I want to escape. I want it to be gone."
"Impulse, I-" Skizz falters. "I- I'm calling Xisuma," he resolves, whipping out his communicator. Impulse continues to laugh as his best friend selects the Admin's contact and starts a voice call, bringing the device to his ear. Impulse's laughter finally subsides as the Admin arrives, armour dusty from riding hard along the barely-established trails.
"Impulse, look at me," he commands gently, and Impulse raises his head so he can meet his Admin's eyes. "How long?"
"Too long," Impulse admits, letting out a short, breathy laugh. Blood drips into his eyes and he blinks back tears, raising a hand to wipe it away. "Too long. It's been too long."
"Okay," Xisuma says, breaking eye contact and leaning back. "Okay."
Impulse begins to laugh again. "Nothing I've tried works. All my old coping skills have failed, even the bad ones." He shows them the pale scars on his arm. "I've been stuck in a time loop for the past four – five? – days, and it hurts more every time. Every attempt has failed. It's always landed me back here, on my bed, on this day, just to relive it over and over and over. X, I broke a long time ago, and I've been broken ever since."
The Admin remains silent, absorbing his words.
"I'm sick of being broken, X. I'm sick. Why, just why, won't the universe let me die?"
The Admin takes a deep breath, taking out his communicator. He keeps breathing deeply as he turns it on, sending out a quick message. "Alright. That's alright," he says, shifting so he can sit on the floor in front of him. "It hurts, I get that. Maybe I don't know what exactly you're going through, but I know it hurts, and it hurts a lot." He squints sympathetically, looking Impulse in the eye again. "But killing yourself isn't an option. We'd be devastated, Impulse. You're valued and loved, and you deserve to know that."
"No, I'm not," he cries, still wiping away tears and blood. Skizz brings out a small cloth and presses it slowly to his forehead, stemming the bleeding. "I'm not worth anything. I can't get anything right. It just hurts, X, it hurts and I can't do anything and I just want to be done. Just done, please."
"Impulse," X says softly. They lapse into silence, save for Impulse's quiet tears.
"It's okay," he tries. "It's okay for me to die. It's okay."
"That could be true," the Admin concedes, "but that shouldn't be true today, okay?" Impulse doesn't respond. "Here's what I'm gonna do," he offers. "I'm going to get you some help off-world to help you work through this. Until then, I want you to stay with the other hermits so we can keep you safe, okay?"
"Okay," Impulse agrees. "Okay."
"Skizz?"
"I've got him," his best friend assures the Admin, scooting closer to Impulse and wrapping him in a side hug.
Later that night, when Impulse goes to bed, safely wrapped in blankets in Tango's steampunk base, he thinks that maybe – just maybe – things can be okay again. More than just 'okay', even. Things might even be good again.
When he wakes up in Tango's base in the morning, he laughs quietly. Yeah, things can be good again. It's just going to take a long time to heal.
^-^
Hello wonderful people, hope we're doing well <3
I know it isn't February anymore, but I'm still gonna finish all these prompts. I've got 18 left and plans for most of them, so we're doing pretty well. Thank you all so, so much for your patience!
Thanks for reading! Make sure you stay hydrated!