Chapter Text
Void Archives can lie—Welt has known this ever since their first encounter. No one from any dimension could convince Welt that they were Otto Apocalypse when they were not; in the Archives’ defence, he couldn’t know how he said one of the things that could never foul the Herrscher for even a part of a second.
This event and the conclusion Welt made weren’t the sole reason why he knew with unshakable confidence that Void Archives has always been more than just a code—maybe, even without enough evidence for himself, he would have also treated Void like a person. Or rather: he would have, no matter what. It would have been uncharacteristic of Welt not to do so.
Yet, with good enough reason—where some would say it’s ‘bad’ enough reason—Welt forgets all of this.
It’s been some time since Himeko saved them from space; they’ve been through many adventures that helped the innocents of this universe. A day ago, they left a planet where they helped resolve an internal conflict, travelling to their next destination—it gave Welt just enough time to sort through the new people and connections he had made, to dig into the database of the Express and to record some new encounters into it.
Except, a certain someone hasn’t been letting him.
“Herrscher, I’ve told you many times that your method is inefficient and that database could never compare to the knowledge I have in my archives,” Void says while he leans over Welt’s shoulder, into his personal space. The fabrics of their clothes just touch, yet the artificial warmth—which is heat nevertheless—of Void’s body can be felt.
He’s infuriating.
Welt isn’t sure what Void is trying to suggest—of course, he knows that the archives inside him have more knowledge than probably anything else. Even the thought of that library brings out the inner child from Welt that he has a rather hard time suppressing—because the idea of such a place without the ability to reach it is just disappointing. If he didn’t know it better, he would think Void is trying to offer him something—but even the assumption feels ridiculous. Void has no reason ever to consider something like that. Letting him into his libraries… It will never happen.
“Void Archives, you are not being helpful,” Welt starts as he gives up on the database, his attention taken away from the process he has been doing. He tries to lean away from the screen to straighten his achy back, but soon enough he realises that the motion had been a mistake as, this way, he bumps into Void’s chest. Welt is old enough that he knows he should have more control over himself, yet…
If it wasn’t the betrayal of the sudden heat that creeps into the tip of his ears at the contact, then it’s the slight, sly grin that Welt can see on Void’s face from the corner of his eye that truly sparks annoyance at the situation.
He’s too tired and too old to understand why the Archives is acting like this—why Void has been acting similarly on many occasions now—and the words are out of his mouth sooner than he could reconsider them or make a better effort to hide the frustration in his voice.
“Can you just get lost, please? You don’t have to like this database to let me work in peace. I—”
“What if I’m not here for the database?”
The question lingers between them for a few empty seconds. Void had asked without missing a beat; interrupting him, but also leaning back and giving Welt some space—though only doing so in order to take in the Herrscher’s full expression. The result of his wits, of whatever he’s trying to achieve with such an inquiry.
Welt isn’t a person who struggles to see a situation clearly—except now he is, as it just doesn’t make sense. A little heat—a tiny remembrance that he is still human and he can make mistakes—creeps up in his chest, lava-like, hot and quick, and one more time today he speaks before allowing himself to reconsider and reassess the situation:
“Why would you even stay here with me, Void? You act as if you liked me.”
There’s no menace in Welt’s tone, but he’s strict enough that maybe this is what Void needed. The Archives pulls away from the other’s personal space and heads to the door, looking back at Welt once before he disappears to truly let the Herrscher work in peace. “You don’t have to worry, I don’t. I will let you be.”
And with that, Void is away before Welt could have the chance to answer. Even though his wish has been fulfilled and he’s alone with his work, it takes him a good while until he can get back to his flow—and, still, he finds himself spending the next hours being really inefficient and unproductive. He can’t admit it, not even to himself, but the room feels empty and cold that day from the moment Void pulled back from his personal space.
The next week passed in the blink of an eye—at least the daytime. It’s been a while since Welt has felt this horrifically bad: he couldn’t name the reason for it, but starting from the night that came after his conversation with the Archives, he just couldn’t sleep.
The hundreds of thousands of voices in the Core have been screaming at him ever since he was a child; still, this past week has shown Welt that the nightmares of his long life could turn even worse and his quality of sleep could still get shittier than ever before. He has learnt—it was a must—to live with the lack of sleep and to embrace it, but after everything he has been through, his body has also given him a new kind of personal hell this past week.
Existence hasn’t been… Pleasant.
Welt has tried his best to keep himself busy during the day and to work until he passed out to sleep—only to wake up soon with yet another nightmare, his ears echoing from the voices of agony, his vessel feeling like it’d disintegrate at any moment.
Sometimes, in the loneliness of the night when Welt could only hope no one walked past his door and heard the pained voice that unwillingly left his mouth as he tried to get a grip on himself, as he tried to put on his facade for the next day where he had to meet the others and make progress… Sometimes, he played with the thought of how good it would feel to get sucked into one of his black holes, and just—
In hindsight, when he bites the dust from the swarm monster’s hit that he should have been able to avoid… Pain renders Welt mute and it crosses out all his thoughts until his first one is that he truly deserves this all.
He knew he did an exceptionally bad job at taking care of himself—because he could have maybe found some relief or asked for the help of his companions during this past week—so it only feels right that he has to bear the consequence of his actions. Or of the lack of them, rather.
He still could suppress some of the monsters before he fell—right after Welt goes down, Himeko finishes them all with a strike. Welt is sure he is missing a few seconds or minutes at least because the next thing he knows is how two pairs of hands are not allowing him to get up just yet, even though he instinctively would like to do so.
“I will check on the others, you stay with him,” Himeko’s voice says somewhere in the distance that Welt recognises through the veil of agony that clouds his senses, filling up his vision with black spots and making his ears ring and echo.
“Of course.” The tone indicates it’s almost an insult to assume the opposite case.
Now, this voice comes from much closer—it takes Welt a good few seconds to realise it’s Void Archives who kneels next to him and has a hand over his chest to stop him from trying to move just yet.
“Stay put for a little longer, please,” Void asks, and there is something in his tone that Welt cannot name. It’s uncharacteristic of the Archives to make a request so nicely—maybe it is because of this or because of the nauseating pain, but Welt complies without an argument. “Just rest for now, alright?” Void adds, his voice even.
Welt cannot see his companion’s expression—if he could… If he could witness the slightly furrowed brows and the hard line of the Archives’ mouth, he couldn’t put the pieces of this puzzle together.
Thanks to the regenerative powers Welt has—and more to the local medic who possesses a little healing power that clears some of the Herrscher’s concussion—in a few hours, all the Nameless are about to board the Express and leave this planet, its issues being resolved.
Before their departure—not much after his injury, as soon as he was good enough to sit and talk—Welt started to help the city’s guardian. They went over some future security management and actions they’d need; despite his splitting headache and the other pains in his body, Welt applied himself to give the most knowledge and help he possibly could to the hands of these people.
Now, as the time has come that he should stand and walk the little way to the Express, Welt soon enough realises that he severely overestimated what he can take in his current state. He barely moves when the doom of understanding hits him that his cane alone is not going to be enough to get his beaten body on board. Nauseating pain is one thing—he has learnt to deal with this. He had to. But the dizziness and the blinding kind of torment that comes when he tries to put weight on his injured leg are bigger than him now—if not for gentle hands pulling him close and steadying him, Welt would have just stood and collapsed on his own.
“Let me,” Void says rather quietly, uncharacteristically of him.
After he gave in without any arguments to Welt’s request that he wanted to spend the rest of his time on the planet talking with this city’s guardian, Void had vanished to do something else—up until this moment. His body feels warm as Welt leans into him—unwillingly or not but he must—and Void is holding him with seeming ease, without the appearance to the outside that unless his help, the Herrscher would be just a pathetic mess of a human on the ground again.
Welt has no choice but to comply—a part of him already dreading the quirky comments yet to come.
Except they aren’t.
With the help of Void and his cane, under many pairs of grateful eyes, Welt limps his way through to the Express, using everything he has to pretend he’s doing ‘just alright’, only to avoid the looks, the questions, the unnecessarily and undeserved worry that all those people could use for something else. For something better. For someone better.
A lifetime’s worth of practice of the art of pretence is working; the only person who can’t be fooled now is Void—and Welt has to give it to him that the Archives has allowed him to have as much dignity left as possible, even while he’s supporting almost all his weight now.
Every second step, the one with his bad leg, is testing Welt’s will to be able to keep it together and still have his neutral mask in place—more for the distraction that he selfishly needs, he cannot stop himself but comment on Void’s strange behaviour: one of silence.
They’ve barely spoken ever since the Archives left Welt alone with the database; now the Herrscher tells himself that he only hasn’t given this more thought so far because he has been enjoying the newly come silence and calmness he experienced these past days. His comment still can’t be kept to himself now—born from the lack of sleep, from the pain, from the unfamiliarity of Void’s behaviour, and from… From the sentiment that maybe, a part of him longs for Void’s company, even if it comes with his quirks…
Stemming from many roots, in a voice that can’t fully hide his suffering, Welt breaks their silence and says, "You are awfully quiet, Void Archives. If I didn't know better, I'd think you want me to help because you care."
Not many steps are left until the door of the Express; aside from the little humming noise that leaves Void’s mouth right after Welt’s comment, they make through half of the remaining distance before the Archives answers—with the Herrscher’s pace, it takes a fairly long time, considering the shortness of the distance. It takes almost longer than what Welt is able to bear right now.
Void’s voice is light and nonchalant—but Welt misses the hard line of his jaw and the distant look in his eyes when he finally speaks:
“Just save your energy for something else now.”