(Had to screenshot this as the ask somehow glitched) I am! Sethos is way too underrated 😓 I’m doing okay ish! I hope you are doing good as well anon!🩷
Sethos has never really had anyone who he has cherished besides his grandpa. Sure he has had a lot of good friends, but his feelings for them was never that deep. He cared for them and would be sad if anything happened to him, but that was it. He often fantasies about having a lover and that fantasy turns to reality when he meets you.
To say that he is in love is an understatement. He is obsessed. Every second of his day he thinks of you and he wants to be with you 24/7. He takes you to camping and he quickly learns that you aren’t able to protect yourself from potential danger. You aren’t pathetically weak, but you aren’t able to fend for yourself. As spontaneous as he is, he decides that you will be with him. No matter what. He will take care of you.
[Y/N] sat on the edge of her bed, her phone pressed to her ear as she listened to the calm, collected voice on the other end of the line.
“Miss [L/N],” Officer Wriothesley began, his tone measured but laced with urgency, “we’ve found some potential leads regarding Kinich. Nothing concrete yet, but it’s something. I was hoping you could join us on this investigation. Your perspective and insights might help.”
Her heart clenched at the mention of Kinich. It had been weeks since his disappearance, and the lack of news had gnawed at her endlessly. [Y/N] bit her lip, torn. She glanced at the small calendar on her desk, the date circled in red—a reminder of Sethos’s promise to meet her today. She’d been looking forward to seeing him, especially knowing how much he needed someone by his side.
“I appreciate the update, Officer,” she said carefully, “but I can’t join you today. A close friend of mine is counting on me, and I don’t want to let him down.” There was a brief pause on the other end, followed by a hum of understanding. “I see,” Wriothesley replied. “That’s fair. Just know that the offer stands—if you change your mind or have any insights, reach out to me. This case is... delicate, and every little bit helps.”
“I will,” [Y/N] promised. “Thank you, Officer. Please let me know if there are any new developments.” “Of course,” he said, his voice softening slightly. “Take care, Miss [L/N].” The call ended with a quiet beep, and [Y/N] lowered the phone from her ear, staring at the screen for a moment longer.
She sighed and pocketed the device before standing up. “Mom, I’m heading out now!” she called as she grabbed her bag and made her way toward the front door.
[M/N] looked up from her seat, her eyes warm and knowing. “Visiting Sethos, aren’t you?” [Y/N] nodded, smiling faintly. “Yeah. He’s been through so much—I can’t just leave him alone.”
Her mother stood, approaching to press a gentle kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “You’re a good friend, sweetheart. Be safe, and let me know if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Mom. I’ll see you later.” Closing the door behind her, [Y/N] stepped out into the brisk afternoon air. She walked a few paces down the street before spotting a taxi and waving it down.
The driver pulled over, rolling down the window as she approached. “Where to, miss?” he asked. “Bubu Hospital, please,” she replied, climbing into the backseat.
As the taxi merged into traffic, [Y/N] leaned back against the seat, her thoughts drifting to the conversation she’d just had. What kind of clues had Kinich left? She wondered, her mind grasping at the possibilities. Had he left behind something tangible—a note, a trace of his movements—or was it something less concrete, like a whispered rumor or a fleeting sighting? Her chest tightened at the thought, and she rested her head against the cool glass of the window.
More than anything, she wished the clues would lead to one undeniable truth: that Kinich was alive.
Alive and okay.
She sighed, closing her eyes briefly. That was her only wish. The thought gave her a momentary sense of calm, enough to dissipate the edge of her worries, if only for now.
When the taxi pulled up in front of the hospital, [Y/N] quickly paid the driver and stepped out, offering a quiet thanks before turning toward the entrance. The sterile smell of disinfectant hit her as she walked through the sliding doors, the muted hum of hospital activity filling her ears.
At the reception desk, Barbara greeted her with a warm smile. “Miss [L/N]! Here to see Sethos again?”
[Y/N] nodded, returning the smile. “Yes. How’s he doing?”
Barbara’s expression softened. “He’s doing better—slowly, but surely. I think having you visit him helps a lot. You’ve been a great source of comfort for him.”
The words sent a small pang through [Y/N]’s chest, but she smiled anyway. “Thank you for the update. I’ll head up to see him now.” Barbara nodded, her smile lingering as [Y/N] made her way toward the elevator.
She pressed the button for Sethos’s floor and leaned against the wall as the doors closed. The quiet hum of the elevator was almost soothing, but it couldn’t drown out the anticipation building in her chest.
When the doors slid open, she stepped out, her feet quickening as she neared his room. She hesitated for a moment outside his door, steeling herself before pushing it open.
“Sethos—”
Her voice faltered as her gaze fell upon him. He was sitting up in bed, but the sight of him stopped her in her tracks. His skin was pallid, the natural glow she had always associated with him replaced by a sickly pallor. His eyes, though still holding a flicker of his usual playfulness, were sunken and rimmed with dark circles. His shoulders, once strong and confident, now slumped as if carrying an invisible weight.
Her heart ached at the sight. This wasn’t the Sethos she knew—the vibrant, teasing, and unyielding boy who seemed invincible. This was someone worn down by pain and exhaustion, someone who had given too much of himself.
“Are you just going to stand there, princess?” he teased, his voice weaker but still laced with that familiar charm.
That single nickname broke her. Tears welled in her eyes as she rushed to his side, her bag left forgotten on the ground, wrapping her arms around him carefully but firmly.
“Sethos,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You scared me. I thought I’d lost you.”
He hesitated for a moment before wrapping his good arm around her, his touch warm despite his weakened state. He leaned his head against hers, his voice soft and teasing. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
[Y/N] pulled back slightly, her hands gently cupping his face. Her thumbs brushed over the faint stubble on his jawline, and she frowned at how much weight he had lost. “Don’t joke about this,” she said, her voice breaking. “You almost died, Sethos. You can’t just brush that off.”
His expression softened, and for a moment, he let his guard down. “I didn’t mean to worry you,” he murmured, his gaze locking with hers.
Her chest tightened at the raw vulnerability in his eyes. She leaned her forehead against his, their breaths mingling in the quiet space between them. “You don’t have to pretend to be okay,” she said softly. “Not with me.”
Sethos closed his eyes, his lips curving into a faint, bittersweet smile. “You always know what to say,” he whispered. “But I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“I don’t care how you look,” she replied, her voice firm and steady. “You saved me, Sethos. You’ve always been there for me. Let me be here for you now.”
His hand reached up, trembling slightly, to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “You make it sound so easy,” he said, his tone tinged with both gratitude and sorrow.
“It is easy,” she insisted. “Because it’s you.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The weight of everything they had been through hung heavy in the air, but so did the unspoken understanding between them.
Sethos finally broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper, “I missed this. Missed you.”
As the words left his lips, he buried his head against her neck, drawing in a deep breath as the familiar scent of her perfume enveloped him. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth despite his exhaustion, his arm weakly snaking around her waist, pulling her closer. The gesture was instinctive, full of longing and comfort, as if he was afraid she might vanish if he let go.
[Y/N] felt her heart soften at his actions, a warm smile spreading across her face. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she raised her hand to his hair, her fingers slipping through the long, dark brown strands. She untangled each strand smoothly, her touch tender and unhurried.
Her thoughts mirrored his words. She had missed this too—the quiet moments where they didn’t need to speak to understand one another. The vulnerability he allowed her to see now was something he rarely shared, and she cherished it.
“I missed you too, Sethos,” she murmured softly, her voice steady but filled with emotion.
He let out a faint sigh, his body relaxing against her as though her presence alone could take away the weight of everything he had been carrying. The steady rhythm of her fingers through his hair seemed to soothe him, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to feel at peace.
"I'm glad I get to see you again," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He tightened his hold around her, his fingers curling slightly against her waist as though anchoring himself to the reality of her being there.
His mind betrayed him, swirling with the numerous what-ifs that had plagued his thoughts since the incident. What if he hadn’t survived? What if the abyssal energy had taken him completely? The idea of never being able to see her again haunted him, wrapping around his chest like a vice.
He shut his eyes tightly, burying his face further into the crook of her neck. The warmth of her skin against his cheek, the soft thrum of her pulse, the familiar scent of her—it all felt like a lifeline. ‘Because I wouldn’t be able to feel your touch again if I didn’t…’ The unspoken words echoed in his mind, heavy and raw, a testament to how close he had come to losing everything that mattered.
[Y/N] seemed to sense the shift in his emotions, her hand pausing briefly before she resumed stroking his hair with even more care. She leaned her head gently against his, her own heart aching at the vulnerability he was showing.
“I’m glad you’re here too, Sethos,” she said softly, her voice tender but resolute, as if her words could chase away his lingering doubts. “I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t.”
Her confession made his chest tighten, a bittersweet sensation washing over him. He felt undeserving of her warmth, her concern—but he couldn’t let go. Not yet. Her presence grounded him, tethering him to a world that suddenly felt less bleak.
“You’re too good to me, you know that?” he said, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips, though his voice carried an undercurrent of self-reproach.
“And you don’t give yourself enough credit,” she countered gently, her fingers brushing against his scalp, her touch soft and deliberate, as if trying to convey all the gratitude and care she couldn’t put into words.
Then, almost in a whisper, she added, “Thank you, Sethos.”
The words were simple yet profound, carrying an unspoken weight that made Sethos pause. Slowly, he pulled away from her shoulder, his movements deliberate as if savoring the closeness before it was gone. His green eyes flickered, almost instinctively, to her lips for the briefest of moments before meeting her gaze again.
It was as though time had stilled around them. A magnetic pull tugged at his chest, a yearning he hadn’t dared to acknowledge until now. The thought of leaning in, of closing the gap between them, lingered like a temptation he couldn’t quite shake. Yet, he held back, the fear of tarnishing this perfect moment outweighing his desires.
Instead, a soft chuckle escaped his lips, breaking the silence. With a tenderness that surprised even himself, Sethos reached up and gently took her hand from his hair, guiding it to his cheek. He leaned into her touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he relished the warmth and comfort her presence offered.
“It’s a knight’s job to protect his princess, after all,” he teased, his voice light but laced with an undeniable fondness.
The playful words sent a wave of warmth through [Y/N], her cheeks tinged with a soft blush. She tried to brush it off, but the tiny tingling sensation that bloomed in her chest betrayed her. It was something she couldn’t quite name—a mix of gratitude, affection, and something deeper that she wasn’t ready to confront.
“Sethos, you’re impossible,” she murmured, her voice carrying a hint of exasperation but mostly amusement.
His grin widened at her reaction, though his grip on her hand didn’t loosen. Instead, he gave it a gentle squeeze, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles. For Sethos, this moment was enough. The ache in his heart, the heaviness of his guilt—they all seemed to fade, replaced by a quiet contentment that he only ever felt in her presence.
And though he didn’t say it, the thought lingered in his mind, unspoken yet undeniable: ‘As long as I can keep you safe, nothing else matters.’
[Y/N] slowly pulled away from Sethos's touch, but it appeared that he didn't want to let her go, but as he saw her get out of bed, his hold loosened and his expression turned into a slight grimace. She walked towards where she had abandoned her bag a few minutes ago while asking Sethos, "Have you eaten yet?" She crouched down and opened the zipper of her bag, revealing two plastic containers with food inside.
Prior to her leaving the house, her mother insisted that she bring the leftover food from their fridge to make sure that Sethos has something to eat throughout the day. [Y/N] hasn't gotten to say anything, and now her mother continues to chatter while she continues to shove food into her bag, leaving no room for objections.
She took out the two containers and waved them in Sethos' direction, saying, "If not, I brought some food that my mom packed."
Sethos quickly smiled in appreciation and nodded. After all, he loves all the meals that her mother always cooks whenever he stays over to eat at [Y/N]'s house. It wasn't just the tasty cooking that kept him hooked, but it also reminded him of the simplicity of it and what real home tastes like. He eyed the containers with anticipation, eager to dig in and savor the familiar flavors that brought him comfort and warmth.
[Y/N] opened the lid of the container and took a whiff of the familiar aroma, feeling a rush of nostalgia and contentment wash over her. Even though the buttered chicken is cold and the rice is slightly dry, once consumed, it feels like it has just been cooked straight from her mother's kitchen. She mixed the orangey sauce with the rice, coating each grain with the savory flavor. Then she cuts the small chicken in half, scooping up a bit of the flavored rice while slowly bringing it over to Sethos, who eagerly awaits a taste of the familiar dish.
As he takes a bite, a smile spreads across his face, and he shakes his head in approval, savoring the flavors that never fail him, even after all these years. "Mhmm, it's so good," he said while chewing the food. The memories of home flood back to him with each bite, comforting him in a way that only familiar flavors can.
The food carried him back to countless dinners at [Y/N]’s house, moments where everything felt normal and untouched by the chaos that now surrounded him. Each bite reminded him of home, of better times, and it brought a warmth to his chest that he hadn’t felt in a long time.
[Y/N] continued feeding him, occasionally stealing bites for herself. At one point, she noticed a grain of rice stuck to his cheek. Without hesitation, she reached out to brush it away. The gesture was so casual yet intimate that it caught Sethos off guard, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. To distract himself, he reached for the glass of water on his bedside table, taking a long sip.
Once they finished eating, [Y/N] packed up the containers and tucked them back into her bag. Sethos took his medicine with another sip of water, though his movements stilled when [Y/N] asked an innocent yet pointed question.
“So… Sethos,” she began, tilting her head slightly, “while I was away, did something strange happen?”
Her question lingered in the air, and for a moment, Sethos froze. Memories flashed before his eyes—moments of desperation, of the Abyssal energy coursing through him, of the chaos it unleashed. His grip on the water glass tightened briefly.
He forced a chuckle, keeping his tone light. “Strange? Nah, not really. Just bad timing, I guess.” He waved it off with an easy smile, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed him.
[Y/N] narrowed her eyes slightly, her suspicion evident, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she nodded and moved on, shifting the conversation to lighter topics.
As they talked, [Y/N]’s phone buzzed, breaking the moment. She glanced at the screen and saw Wriothesley’s name flashing. “It’s the officer,” she murmured, quickly accepting the call.
Wriothesley’s voice was calm but firm on the other end. “We’ve found Kinich. He’s at the station now.”
The words hit her like a jolt. “Y-You’ve found him?” she stammered, her voice tinged with disbelief and relief.
“Yes, but he’s… well, it’s best if you come see for yourself,” Wriothesley replied.
“Understood,” she said softly, her mind racing. “Thank you for letting me know.”
After ending the call, she turned to see Sethos watching her intently. His expression was a mix of curiosity and sadness, and he spoke before she could explain. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”
[Y/N] hesitated, her heart aching at the sadness in his voice. She walked over to him, placing a hand gently on his arm. “I’ll come back, I promise. I just… I need to check on Kinich. I need to see him.”
Sethos nodded weakly, though his eyes betrayed the disappointment he felt. He wanted to protest, to ask her to stay, but the words never left his lips. Instead, he managed a small smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Be careful, okay?” he said softly.
“I will,” she assured him, giving his arm a gentle squeeze before stepping away.
As she left the room, Sethos leaned back against the pillows, his gaze fixed on the door she had walked through. The emptiness she left behind was almost palpable, and he couldn’t shake the thought that every time she left, it became harder to watch her go.
As the door clicked shut behind her, the silence in the room grew heavier, pressing down on Sethos like an invisible weight. There she goes again, running off the moment his name was even uttered… He closed his eyes, willing himself to focus on the lingering warmth of her presence, but the effort was futile. A sharp, searing pain suddenly coursed through his chest, and his breathing hitched.
The Abyssal energy, dormant until now, stirred like a restless beast. Tendrils of dark energy flickered faintly around his fingertips, and his body tensed as he fought to suppress it. His hand flew to his chest, gripping tightly as if he could physically contain the surge.
Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his teeth clenched as the energy clawed at his resolve. Not now, not when she’s gone, he thought desperately, forcing his trembling hands to his sides. Slowly, the dark tendrils retreated, leaving him drained and gasping for breath.
The room fell silent again, save for the sound of his uneven breathing. Sethos slumped back against the pillows, his body exhausted, his mind swirling with the lingering echoes of the energy’s hunger. His gaze drifted back to the door, a pang of longing filling his chest.
“She’s my light,” he murmured hoarsely, his voice barely audible. "I can't let this consume me... Not like this..."
Meanwhile, [Y/N] sprinted through the hallways, her footsteps echoing against the sterile floors as nurses and doctors blurred past her. The weight of the news pressed heavily on her chest, and all she could think about was getting to Kinich—seeing him, making sure he was okay with her own eyes. The possibility of him being in a state worse than she imagined sent a shiver down her spine, but she forced herself to push through the fear.
By the time she reached the police station, her breath came in ragged gasps, her chest rising and falling rapidly from running so fast. She barely registered the officers around her as she barged in, scanning the area frantically. Then, amidst the dull, dim lighting of the holding area, her gaze locked onto him.
Kinich.
Her stomach dropped.
He was seated at the corner of the interrogation room, his figure more hunched than she remembered. His usually pristine appearance was nowhere to be found—his once neatly kept hair was disheveled, strands falling over his eyes, and his normally sharp and commanding presence seemed dimmed. Dark bruises marred the skin under his eyes, exhaustion evident in the way his shoulders slumped. There were cuts on his knuckles, fading yet still raw, and a healing wound on his temple. His clothes were rumpled and dirt-streaked, a stark contrast to the way he always carried himself with controlled precision.
Her heart shattered at the sight.
Without hesitation, she rushed forward, the overwhelming emotions crashing over her all at once. The fear, the worry, and the helplessness she had felt for so long—all of it came pouring out as she threw herself into his arms.
"Kinich!" His name left her lips in a broken sob as her arms wrapped around his torso, clinging to him as if he’d disappear if she let go. The warmth of his body was real, solid, alive—and that realization only made her cry harder.
He stiffened for a brief moment, as if caught off guard, but then she felt him inhale sharply. His arms encircled her, pulling her closer with a tightness that sent shivers down her spine. He buried his face against the crook of her neck, his breath hitching as he held her, his grip almost desperate.
[Y/N] could feel the slight tremor in his hands as they pressed against her back. His heartbeat, steady yet uneven, thumped against her chest, syncing with her own erratic rhythm. He wasn’t just letting her hold him—he was holding onto her just as much.
“…You’re crying too much,” Kinich murmured, though his voice was hoarse, betraying the raw emotions he was trying to suppress.
[Y/N] didn’t care. She sobbed harder, her hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as if grounding herself. “You idiot,” she choked out between gasps, her tears soaking into his shoulder. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you let me find you sooner?”
He exhaled shakily, his arms tightening around her. “I’m here now,” he whispered, and despite the exhaustion laced in his tone, there was a rare gentleness in it—one meant just for her.
Neither of them moved for a long time. [Y/N] simply stayed there, tangled in an embrace that spoke of all the words left unsaid, of all the longing and fear that had built up in her heart.
Kinich was here. He was alive.
Now, both of her best friends had finally returned to her.
Sethos sat in silence, eyes hollow and unseeing, as he gazed blankly out the hospital window. Morning light seeped through, soft but unforgiving, illuminating the hospital room in an almost surreal glow. His grandfather, Bamoun, sat in the chair by his side, having waited patiently for Sethos to wake up. The moment Sethos opened his eyes, his grandfather had filled him in on what had happened. Bamoun’s steady voice was comforting, but every word felt heavy, each detail sharpening Sethos’s awareness of the chaos he’d barely survived.
He listened intently as his grandfather explained how [Y/N] had stayed by his side, dragging him through the throngs of panicked people to get him immediate medical attention. She hadn’t left him for hours until her mother had come by to take her home, leaving Bamoun to keep watch over him. The thought of [Y/N] dealing with so much brought a gnawing ache to his chest. He could imagine her eyes, likely wide with worry, her small hand grasping his with a desperation he could only faintly remember.
Then the conversation took a heavier turn. Bamoun shared the news about Kinich—the abrupt way he had left before the disaster and the dreadful reality that no one had seen him since. [Y/N]’s mother had told him about [Y/N] begging the officers to search for him, pleading for any sign that he might still be safe. The CCTV cameras hadn’t captured any useful footage, and so far, there were no clues, no leads. Kinich seemed to have vanished, as if the chaos itself had swallowed him whole.
Sethos felt a deep shock ripple through him. His best friend is missing without a trace. He clenched his good hand tightly against the blanket, feeling the sting of guilt cut through him like a blade. He had survived, but Kinich... There was no certainty of anything, only a void where Kinich’s presence had once been. Sethos knew how much [Y/N] was hurting over this, too. She must have spent every second since the incident waiting, hoping, and desperately clinging to the idea that Kinich was alive somewhere. And yet he hadn’t been there for her, unable to help or protect her, unable even to reassure her through the darkness she now faced.
He looked down at his broken arm, wrapped securely in a brace, feeling a sense of helplessness wash over him. There was so much he wanted to do—so much he should have done. But what could he do now? What could he possibly say to make things right when he was shattered himself, his mind haunted by the images of the chaos, the clawing panic of the fleeing crowd, the dark shadows of the abyssal creatures they’d faced?
As Sethos sat alone in the sterile quiet of his hospital room, his mind spun in endless circles, replaying the nightmare that had unfolded in the arena. Images of the abyss creatures flashed through his memory: monstrous forms leaping, tearing through the crowd, relentless in their pursuit of chaos. His fists clenched in bitter anger as he replayed it all in his mind—the excitement, the cheers, then the deafening screams and the utter pandemonium that followed. The Abyss had left scars on him, on [Y/N], on so many others. The sense of helplessness clawed at him, twisting into something darker, something venomous.
He wanted to blame the Abyss creatures for their mercilessness, their disregard for life. He wanted to rage against the shadows that had swallowed up his best friend, leaving him with nothing but a knot of guilt and frustration. They were to blame for everything, he told himself, his thoughts spiraling in circles, fed by the seething anger that roared beneath his skin.
But it wasn’t just the Abyss creatures that angered him. It was that so-called hero, the one everyone was fawning over on the news. The mysterious green ghost who had appeared from nowhere, wreathed in power, hailed for “saving the day.” Where was he when the terror began? When the first screams erupted, when he, Sethos, lay helplessly pinned, when [Y/N] had nearly been lost in the sea of chaos? What kind of hero couldn’t prevent this from happening in the first place?
His anger churned darker and deeper, an unnatural heat building within him. Suddenly, a strange sensation crept down his injured arm, spreading out in slow, icy pulses. Sethos glanced down and froze, his eyes widening in horror. Dark, purple-tinted tendrils of energy were swirling beneath his skin, radiating out from his injury like veins of poison. The edges of his bandages frayed and charred as if seared by something corrosive, and with each pulse, a searing pain shot up his arm.
"No, what’s happening?” he gasped, clutching his arm as the pain intensified, biting into him as though his very flesh were turning against him. His fingers trembled, each pulse bringing a wave of agony. His heart thundered in panic, the darkness clawing deeper, a creeping cold that sent an uncontrollable shudder down his spine.
He gritted his teeth, trying to hold back, but the pain grew unbearable. “Help—someone! Please!” Sethos screamed, the agony contorting his features as he felt the energy consume his arm, searing through muscle and bone like acid. His breaths came in ragged gasps, and he could barely form coherent thoughts, his mind fogged over with panic and pain.
A nurse burst through the door, her face a mask of shock as she rushed toward him. “Sir! Try to calm down—I'm here to help you!” She reached for his arm, but as soon as her hand brushed his skin, a wave of force erupted from him, a burst of the dark, swirling energy that had claimed his arm. The impact threw her back against the wall, and she collapsed in a heap, motionless, her body limp on the cold hospital floor.
Sethos watched in horror, his heart beating with an overwhelming sense of dread. His breathing came fast, each inhale clawing at his throat, his thoughts spiraling as he realized what he had just done. No, no, this isn’t me.
His eyes flicked to the nurse, motionless, slumped against the wall, and a hollow chill gripped him as he watched the unnatural energy still pulsing through his arm, tendrils twisting and coiling like something alive.
The pressure in Sethos’ head intensified, pulsing like a relentless drumbeat, drowning out every coherent thought. His vision blurred, eyes fixating on the dark, ominous tendrils spiraling from his wounded arm. The inky purple haze felt alive, as though it were digging deeper into him, rooting itself beneath his skin and festering within his veins. The sounds around him—the hurried footsteps, faint echoes of voices—were lost to the piercing ring that dominated his senses. Each heartbeat seemed slower and heavier, as if the Abyss itself were stretching its claws through his very core.
Suddenly, a pair of hands steadied him, and he felt a firm, calm presence. He squinted, his hazy gaze landing on the doctor, who had arrived with an unreadable expression of intense focus. The doctor’s voice broke through the suffocating fog, steady but with a gentle authority. “Sethos, can you hear me? We’re going to get you through this.”
The nurse’s unconscious body, still lying a few feet away from the earlier force, caught the doctor’s glance. He quickly motioned for a nearby staff member, who swiftly entered to help carry the nurse out, her head slumped as the medics murmured words of reassurance to one another. Sethos watched it all in a detached, almost dream-like state, the pain anchoring him even as his vision began to fade in and out.
The doctor turned back to him, now holding a small vial, translucent with swirling liquid that seemed to pulse in faint blues and greens. The doctor drew a deep breath, then met Sethos’ wide, pain-glazed eyes. “This serum will help suppress the Abyssal energy, but it’s temporary. It won’t eliminate it, only give you a few hours of relief.”
Sethos didn’t respond; his jaw was clenched tightly, breath ragged. His fingers dug into the sheets, almost tearing them, as each pulse of his injury sent waves of icy fire up his arm. He tried to nod, but it felt as though his head was weighed down by something far heavier than he could bear.
“Alright,” the doctor said calmly, preparing the syringe. “I’m going to administer this, and I need you to focus on my voice. It’s important you try to keep breathing steady, understand?”
Sethos gave a slight, jerky nod, his body instinctively flinching as the doctor pressed the needle into his uninjured arm. The serum entered his bloodstream, cold and foreign, spreading a tingling numbness that fought against the burning from his wound. He could feel it battling the Abyssal energy, dulling the pain bit by bit. It wasn’t immediate relief, but with each second that passed, the furious buzzing began to settle, and the dark tendrils were retreating just enough to give him a moment’s peace.
The doctor continued speaking, his voice grounding Sethos in the present. “You’re holding up remarkably well, Sethos. This energy isn’t something anyone should have to handle alone. But I’ve seen patients tainted like this before. It’ll be challenging, and the effects may linger, but you’re strong.”
Sethos, still shivering from the ordeal, managed a hoarse whisper. "Strong? I couldn’t even... couldn’t help.” His mind flashed back to the arena, the chaos, the screams—everything he couldn’t stop, couldn’t prevent. The shame and helplessness weighed on him, more crushing than the physical pain itself.
The doctor rested a hand on his shoulder, gripping it firmly. “You’ve been through something no one should have to face. It’s normal to feel this way, but right now, your priority is recovery. We can figure out what comes next once you’re stronger.”
The doctor didn’t waver, his calm presence a source of reassurance as Sethos’ breathing began to steady, the serum slowly dulling the immediate threat. As the haze lifted, Sethos looked down at his arm—the skin around the wound was still darkened, the veins tinged with a faint violet, but the pulsing had softened. He knew this wasn’t the end of his battle with the Abyss, but for now, he had a small reprieve.
The doctor watched him closely, noting the faint shadows of fear and guilt in Sethos’ eyes. “Rest now,” he said softly, leaning back. “It may be temporary, but it’s time you can use to heal. We’ll do all we can to help you, Sethos. You’re not alone in this.”
As the doctor quietly left the room, closing the door behind him, Sethos sank back into his pillow, his gaze fixed on the dim hospital lights reflecting off the blank white ceiling. Silence filled the room, stretching and growing heavy around him. He looked down at his bandaged arm, the faint, sickly purple still swirling just beneath his skin. This dark energy—it felt like it was part of him now, like it had embedded itself into his very bones.
The weight of everything that had happened settled on him, pressing down with an intensity that stole his breath. What have I become? The thought was soft, almost fragile, echoing somewhere deep within him. He looked at his fingers, each one steady now, but only because of the doctor’s intervention. Just moments ago, they’d been shaking and burning, like they didn’t belong to him. The memory of his own voice, breaking through panicked breaths, sent chills down his spine.
In his mind, he replayed the events in the arena—the familiar faces of his friends turned to shadows of terror, [Y/N] struggling to save him as the darkness clawed at his consciousness. He’d been so helpless, so vulnerable, and the thought twisted his insides. He’d relied on others—on [Y/N], on the doctor, even on his grandfather. All of them had helped pull him back from the brink when he couldn’t even keep himself together.
Sethos turned his head, his reflection faintly visible in the dark window across the room. He barely recognized the person staring back. His skin looked pale, his eyes sunken and shadowed. He’d never looked this haunted. And the purple marks—each one a silent reminder that the darkness hadn’t left him. It was just biding its time, lingering in the recesses of his soul, waiting for him to lose control again.
What have I become? The question seemed to hang in the room, unanswered and unsettling.
[Y/N] sat curled on the edge of her bed, her knees drawn up, watching the muted glow of the afternoon news on the small screen across her room. The broadcast was grim, filled with a slow, tragic montage of the destruction that the abyssal creatures had left behind in the arena. Shots of scattered debris, broken seats, and lost belongings told the story of the terror she’d lived through, a reminder of the chaos now etched deeply into her memory.
The reporter’s voice was somber, almost apologetic, as if their words were too heavy to share with the world. “More information has been released on the abyssal attack during last night’s tournament, with reports now showing the terrifying extent of the incident.”
Then, on the screen, a map showed the path the creatures had torn through the arena, displacing everyone in their wake. "Casualties...” The reporter’s voice faltered, then continued, "...are still being counted. Current estimates reveal at least thirty citizens have lost their lives, with dozens more injured and hospitalized.” The toll was high, unbearably high, and each name and face that flashed on the screen left a fresh ache in [Y/N]’s heart.
Her gaze drifted, unseeing, as she recalled Kinich’s hurried departure right before the chaos had broken out. She remembered the worry etched across his face and how he’d disappeared into the crowd without a single word to explain. Now, the news had shifted, highlighting the sightings of a mysterious figure some had taken to calling the “Green Ghost.” They played shaky footage caught on phones—the figure was there, blurred by distance and darkness, fighting off the abyssal creatures with desperate resolve. She could tell by his movements and determination that he had fought relentlessly, trying to hold them back for as long as possible. But even he had been overwhelmed. The broadcast reported that he, too, had disappeared once the last creature fell, leaving behind only speculation and confusion.
Her fingers twisted the corner of her blanket as the segment moved to a list of missing people—a seemingly endless slideshow of images, one after another, each face carrying a unique, hopeful gaze that felt like a ghostly plea for help. Then, as her eyes skimmed through each photo, her breath caught. Kinich’s picture appeared, his expression serious and steady, a reminder of the friend she’d known so well. She could barely breathe, staring at his image as if her mind might play a trick and have him blink back at her.
There was no update, no leads, just his name listed among so many others, his description carefully stated as if that could somehow bring him back. It tore at her—this feeling of helplessness, the utter lack of anything she could do. The tears stung before she even noticed them welling up, slipping silently down her cheeks. The ache felt unbearable. Kinich was smart; he was careful—but even he couldn’t predict the sudden flood of abyssal creatures that had ravaged the arena. And now, no one knew where he was.
[Y/N] curled tighter, wrapping her arms around her knees. The reality that Kinich was missing, that he could be hurt or worse, felt suffocating. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing that all of it was just some awful nightmare, that any second now she would open her eyes, and Kinich would be safe, and they would all be okay again. But the harsh glow of the news reminded her that this was real, and the emptiness in her chest echoed louder with each passing minute.
All she could do now was hope—hope that, somehow, he would be found. But as the news droned on, listing each missing person and lingering on families lost in grief, it felt like hope was slipping further and further away.
Kinich slipped through the door of his apartment, the usual warmth of the space hollow and dim, shadows collecting in the corners as he closed it softly behind him. Every step he took was measured, painfully slow, his movements restricted by the sharp ache that surged from his abdomen to his limbs. He winced, one hand resting against the wall as he steadied himself. The bandages he’d wrapped earlier were already soaked through with hints of fresh blood, marking every action he took with a silent reminder of his injuries.
But before he could even take a breath, Ajaw’s voice echoed sharply in his mind, the spirit’s taunting laugh filling his thoughts with a biting edge. "Look at you," Ajaw sneered, his voice dripping with derision. "Pathetic. A so-called hero... and yet you couldn’t stop it, could you? Couldn’t stop the destruction, couldn’t save those people. All those lives lost because you weren’t strong enough.”
Kinich’s jaw clenched as Ajaw’s words struck a familiar, festering nerve. "Shut up," he muttered through gritted teeth, hand trembling as he lifted it to swat the spirit away. His motion was weak, but it was enough to send Ajaw’s form scattering into a thin, wispy vapor that dissipated into the room’s shadows, his laughter trailing off into silence. Even though Ajaw was gone, his words still echoed, reverberating within him with every beat of his wounded heart.
He leaned heavily against the wall, breathing in shallow, measured breaths as he steadied himself, forcing down the urge to scream, to break something—anything—to release the anger and frustration gnawing at him. He staggered to the couch, slumping down, his body sinking into the worn fabric, as if it could somehow absorb his pain. His hand drifted up to cover his face, the roughness of his palm pressing against his closed eyes as he fought to keep the emotions from breaking through. His chest heaved, frustration mingling with despair, his thoughts spiraling down a dark path he couldn’t seem to escape.
"A hero." The title felt hollow, meaningless now. What kind of hero lets innocent lives be torn apart while he barely holds his ground? He could hear the screams, the chaos, and the cries of those caught in the crossfire of the abyssal creatures that he couldn’t push back. He’d fought with everything he had, pouring every ounce of strength into each blow, each desperate attempt to save those people, but it hadn’t been enough. He hadn’t been enough.
Images flashed in his mind: terrified faces, children crying in their parents’ arms, people scrambling over one another, trying to escape the creatures that closed in with relentless, monstrous fury. And through it all, the weight of his failure pressed on him, squeezing his chest like a vice.
"What am I doing?" he whispered, the question barely leaving his lips, as though he was afraid to acknowledge it himself. Was he really meant to protect people, or was this just an illusion he clung to—a naïve, misguided notion that someone like him could stand between innocent lives and the nightmares lurking in the dark? Because the truth of it—the undeniable, inescapable truth—was that he had been powerless to save them.
A wave of exhaustion swept over him, heavier than any physical pain. The bruises and cuts on his body were nothing compared to the ache that settled in his soul. He was drained, hollow, as if the battle had carved out a part of him, leaving a void he wasn’t sure he could fill again. His fingers dug into his skin as he sat there, struggling to catch his breath, to make sense of the lingering echoes of the screams, the vision of despair he’d failed to prevent.
"If I can’t protect them... if I can’t save anyone, then what am I worth?" The thought was bitter, like poison, tainting everything he’d ever fought for, ever believed in. His hand fell from his face, his gaze fixed blankly on the ceiling as he felt the reality settle heavily over him: he’d tried to be the hero people needed, but he couldn’t be. He wasn’t the hero in this story. Not if he was the one people ended up crying over, mourning because he couldn’t act fast enough, strong enough, to stop the horror from spreading.
As Kinich lay on the couch, lost in the relentless churn of guilt and exhaustion, he heard a voice, soft yet unmistakably familiar, cutting through the haze of his thoughts.
"It’s okay if you can’t save everyone, Kinich. You’re not obligated to."
The words echoed with the gentleness he recognized—her voice. He flinched, eyes flying open as he looked around, every instinct on edge. The sudden movement ignited a sharp, stabbing pain from his injured side, and he winced, clutching at his ribs as the soreness forced him to settle back down, groaning under his breath.
But the apartment was silent and empty. He closed his eyes again, his pulse still racing. He knew that voice as well as he knew his own, but she wasn’t there. No, it was just his mind, playing tricks on him, teasing him with what he needed to hear. A bitter smile tugged at his lips as he let out a ragged sigh, the silence around him now somehow heavier than before.
The phantom comfort in her imagined voice weighed on him. "You wouldn’t say that if you knew the truth," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "If you knew who I really was, what I’ve been hiding... you’d never look at me the same way. You’d hate me for failing... for being so reckless.” The words tasted sour as he spoke them aloud, but he couldn’t stop himself.
Kinich’s gaze drifted to the ceiling, his mind spiraling into a thousand imagined scenarios. What would she do if she knew he was the Green Ghost? The mysterious figure everyone praised and looked up to, yet the same figure who had failed miserably when it mattered most. If she ever found out that the one she’d trusted as a friend had let innocent lives be destroyed, no, he couldn’t bear to think of the disappointment in her eyes. The thought was enough to twist a knot of dread into his stomach, each breath weighing him down.
He forced himself to close his eyes, as if that might keep the thoughts at bay, but they wouldn’t stop. He could see her standing there, asking him why he hadn’t done more, why he hadn’t saved more people, and why he’d left everyone to fend for themselves. And he’d have no answer.
“How am I supposed to face them again?” he whispered, his voice cracked and hollow. “How do I explain this? Just... show up like nothing happened after I’ve been dubbed missing? They’re probably terrified, thinking I was just another casualty." He shuddered, fighting against the raw surge of emotion that threatened to spill over. It wasn’t like him to lose control, but now everything felt too much. "How do I go back to being... just Kinich, their friend?”
The weight of his own questions dragged him deeper into despair, the silence of the apartment pressing down on him with an oppressive finality. For a brief, reckless moment, he wished he could disappear altogether, become just another shadow swallowed up by the night, rather than a broken hero returning to face his friends’ bewildered faces and knowing he couldn’t give them the answers they deserved. He tried to breathe, but it felt like something was pressing down on his chest, making every breath a struggle.
And then, in the quiet darkness, he let himself imagine, just for a moment, her voice once more. “It’s okay, Kinich,” it whispered, softer this time, like a lullaby, “you tried your best.”
But the words faded as quickly as they’d come, and he was left alone, in the aching silence, with only the shadows to keep him company.
Give me a head cannon about Sethos or Kaveh as elder brothers
I chose Sethos. Sethos would be the best older brother ever
He would bring his older sibling on camping to beautiful places all the time. He loves spending time with his younger sibling. He will help them when they need help, but he won’t spoil them. He thinks it’s important they’re independent, but still aren’t afraid to ask for help should they need it. He will be for the most part laid back, but he can be strict. He will learn his sibling everything he knows.
Give me a character and I will give them a random headcanon.
