Chapter 19: Henry Ford Hospital/Fake Plastic Trees.

  “The painting describes the ultimate expression of her physical pain, nails piercing her body, and tears streaming down her face.”

  August 28th, 1990.

  The clock read 11 PM.

  Link II slept on his bed, the CD player next to him.

  It’s headphones ringing out the song Mr. Rager by Kid Cudi again.

  Playing in a loop as he slept.

  Over.

  Over.

  Over again like a drunken beat.

  …

  A gasp filled the air.

  Link II rushed to his feet.

  Jumping into the air instinctively.

  Realizing that again, he was stuck in the void.

  Not even fazed by the darkness of it.

  His eyes dim and somber.

  An expression that said more to the uncommon rather than a disguise.

  Sitting back on the invisible floor below him, Link II began to think.

  “Why…? Why am I not happy? Why do I not feel a vendetta towards those alternate versions of myself?

  Why do I not feel let down?”

  Yet, he began to fidget as he thought.

  Messing around with his fingers and hands as if they were toys.

  Curling.

  Folding.

  Pointing towards the nothingness of the void in his mind.

  Silence being the only instrument.

  As Duckworth arrived, speaking.

  “...what are you doing? Why are… you?”

  While Link II ignored Duckworth, playing with his hands, laughed a little during so.

  Entertained by the simple things like his own injured hands, even if it meant to come back to reality for a lifetime.

  But to Duckworth, it looked stupid and childish.

  So, he slapped his hands with a loud smack.

  And spoke again.

  “Don't play with your hands, it's inappropriate.

  It makes you look weird.”

  Soon, Link II asked.

  “Duckworth, what's weird about fidgeting?

  It's just something I do to pass-”

  Before being interrupted by Duckworth again.

  “It makes you look weird, kid.

  Might as well fidget with something like a toy rather than your hands.”

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Just as Link II asked, continuing to fidget with his hands.

  “Why does it look weird, and why can't I fidget with my hands?

  Nobody's here, Duckworth.

  It's just us… why do you gotta treat everything like it is a public showdown?”

  While Duckworth stood, coming up with an answer but confused by the glee in Link II's eyes from fidgeting.

  As he asked.

  “How…? How are you so happy right now?

  You just witnessed blood and guts like rain…!”

  Duckworth felt dazed seeing a boy so tragic yet so happy.

  Then, Link II began to speak.

  “Yeah, Duckworth. I know it's fucking weird to see me fidget and have fun since the incidents…

  But that song made me realize one thing.

  I will never have a normal life.

  Never.

  Duckworth.

  Never.

  Because as much as I can dream of being in those same fantasy universes like the Avengers or X-Men…

  I'll still be alone, and stick out like a sore thumb.

  But anyways, I just don't like the silence of this void, you know?”

  While Duckworth became worried.

  Seeing Link II's distant eyes.

  That same expression that held back pain like a martyr.

  An expression every suicidal man knows to themselves when friends arise near them.

  A smile.

  A fake smile.

  A fake plastic tree.

  All combined into the fakeness of feeling.

  Suddenly, Duckworth rushed to Link II.

  Hugging him tightly like it was the only thing that mattered.

  Both expressions held a mix of acceptance and sadness at the same.

  Like a yin and yang of depression.

  As Link II awkwardly hugged Duckworth back.

  His arms slowly rise to the torso, finally closing in on the embrace.

  Yet, his expression stayed the same.

  Stoic.

  Hurt without complaint.

  Like that of the working man or woman.

  Keeping the masks up proudly.

  While Link II asked.

  “Duckworth? Why are you-”

  Abruptly, Duckworth spoke.

  “Stop it, Link.

  Just take the damn hug…

  Don't make me cry, boy…”

  Link II didn't understand, so he asked again.

  “Why Duckworth? Why can't I ask-”

  Before again, stopped by Duckworth.

  “Shut up, damnit and take the hug!

  I'm tired, okay?!

  I'm tired of seeing you sad and stoic!

  I'm sorry, okay?!

  I-I'm sorry for e-everything!

  I just… I hate seeing the stoic faces I see on others.

  It's like that same uncomfortability you have when it's silent.

  But for me, it hurts more because…

  …

  Because it's hard to love someone like a brother.

  It's hard for me because we aren't supposed to bond, it's supposed to be me degrading you like routine.

  But when I see those eyes, those damned eyes full of darkness and acceptance…

  It hurts me more, like I took the blame for everything you did.

  Like I killed a man and the emotional weight finally arrived to me.”

  During this, Duckworth sat on the floor next to Link II.

  His head close to Link II's shoulder, but not laying on it.

  Yet.

  The moment passed.

  Link II stayed silent.

  Till finally responding.

  “So… you just couldn't see me sad? Is that all?”

  His face almost laughing at the emotional turmoil of Duckworth unnaturally crying than usual.

  But then calmed, realizing it was real.

  Not something of a joke.

  Not something that was dark as usual.

  But love blooming like a baby's smile.

  Then, Link II asked.

  “Then tell me, Duckworth.

  Why couldn't you tell me? Why couldn't you appreciate me?

  Was it because of someone or something?

  Or… is that tale of my mother aborting children against the project true?”

  Yet again, Duckworth turned towards Link II.

  His own eyes watery and glistened in the blank air.

  Looking at Link II as a younger brother of sorts.

  Both faces identical in grief.

  Just as Duckworth spoke again.

  “That was a lie, Link II. You know it wasn't true.

  Even if it was, It'd be too painful to admit anyways.

  But… Do you see where I'm getting at?

  It's hard to constantly hate you when you feel this…

  This..

  …

  This feeling of meekness and awkwardness that gave a sense of comfort, Link.”

  Soon enough, Duckworth laid his head on Link II's shoulder.

  Finally letting go of his rules to appreciate the moment.

  During their silent moment, Link II asked.

  “So, Duckworth. Would you rather have me call you something like bro, brother?

  Or something like a nickname?

  Like Ducky, or Mr Ducky, like Mr Rager, you know?”

  Both chuckled at the small nod at the song.

  Then Duckworth responded.

  “Yeah… I think I'd like the nickname of Ducky.

  Just not bro or brother, Jesus Christ we aren't trying to start a bromance, you know?”

  Then came back the silence.

  Both yin and yang united in a moment of silence intertwined with grief.

  Ready for what held in the morning of chaos.