The morning wind howled as Kite soared above the undercity, its chill brushing against his skin and rustling his curly brown hair. The faint morning glow from above cast long shadows through the massive opening leading up to Horizon Heights, barely piercing the industrial gloom of the world below. Shop owners pulled up their rusted shutters, chimera stretched their limbs after a long night, and humans and automatons alike moved through the streets, their chatter blending with the mechanical whirs of machinery coming to life. It was the sound of a new day, indifferent yet constant.

“Almost there.” Kite exhaled, tightening his grip on the crate as his apartment came into view. His heart pounded, not from the flight, but from the weight of the crate he held, the weight of what lay inside.

His descent was careful, deliberate, as he angled his board downward, allowing the garage’s familiar sight to ground him. With a quiet hum, he pressed a button on his exosuit, the garage door quietly groaning as it slid open, welcoming him home.

The moment his feet touched the concrete floor, exhaustion settled into his bones. He shut off his hover board, placing it gently next to the suit stand before moving with quiet efficiency, placing the crate onto a workbench, stripping off his exosuit, and grabbing his toolbox. But it was when he unzipped his backpack and pulled out Ray’s ruined, lifeless body that his movements finally slowed.

Kite stared down at his robotic son, the damage far worse than he had initially thought. His fingers trembled slightly as they hovered over the deep cracks in Ray’s sleek black plating, over the wires that had been severed, the once-vibrant violet glow of his eyes now dark and empty. His throat tightened, an ache blooming in his chest.

“Come on, Kite… you’ve fixed worse.” His voice was barely above a whisper, a feeble attempt to steady himself. He swallowed hard, pushing aside the suffocating fear that whispered of failure, of loss.

And then, he got to work. Hours passed in silence, the rhythmic clinking of metal against metal, the soft buzz of welding, and the occasional frustrated sigh the only sounds in the dimly lit garage. The morning glow filtering through the cracks cast a warm, orange hue across the space, illuminating old, worn-out pictures pinned to the walls.

Photos of Kite as a toddler, grinning wide as he held up a makeshift gadget. A younger Mira and Dorian standing behind him, beaming with pride. Other snapshots of unfinished projects cluttered the space, reminders of time spent with his parents, of their shared dreams and endless tinkering.

His gaze landed on a particular relic of their past, a miniature rocket ship, its once-polished surface now coated in dust. The project had been ambitious, meant to shape-shift into any form. But no matter how hard they worked, the solution had always eluded them. A failure.

Yet, as Kite looked at it now, he didn’t see failure. He saw something else entirely.

He saw proof of their bond, of the love poured into every bolt and wire, of the countless nights spent theorizing, laughing, and problem-solving together. A deep breath steadied him, his resolve hardening as he turned his gaze back to Ray. He wasn’t just fixing a robot. He was holding onto something precious, something irreplaceable.

And he wouldn’t lose it. Not ever.

Ray’s eyes slowly flickered open, his vision adjusting to the dimly lit garage as he sat on the workbench . The faint glow of overhead lights reflected off the metallic surfaces around him, casting soft shadows that danced with each flicker of movement. His newly reformed body felt… different. Lighter, yet undeniably whole.

What…? The thought drifted through his processors as his gaze swept the garage, taking in the familiar sight of scattered tools, unfinished projects, and the warm hues of the morning light trickling through cracks in the walls. His fingers twitched before he slowly lifted his right robotic arm. White. A stark contrast to the black plating that once fully covered him. His fingers curled into a fist, flexing effortlessly. It was stronger, smoother, rebuilt from the ground up.

Half of his body, from the right side of his face down to his torso, gleamed a pristine white, while the other remained the deep, shadowy black of his original design. His eyes reflected the duality, his left eye, nestled in the black plating, pulsed with a faint violet glow, while his right, embedded in the white, shone an eerie green.

Strange… but functional. Ray thought to himself. “Ray?” A soft voice cut through the stillness. Ray’s glowing eyes drifted upward, locking onto Kite’s tired yet gentle gaze.

Kite stood before him, barely holding himself upright, exhaustion evident in his slumped shoulders and the dark circles under his eyes. And yet, despite the fatigue, there was warmth in his expression, an unmistakable relief that made Ray pause.

“You…” Ray murmured, his voice carrying a mechanical whir, his tone laced with something unspoken, something almost dangerous. There was a flicker of something deep within him, a remnant of his past, a quiet malice that threatened to surface.

But then, “Are you okay?” Kite’s words were simple, but they cut through Ray’s lingering hostility like a blade through fog. Ray blinked, momentarily stunned.

Kite, his father, this younger variant of him, had spent tireless hours repairing his broken form, pouring effort and care into every delicate wire and plate. And now, here he was, asking him If he was okay. The irony of it was not lost on Ray.

Slowly, Ray flexed his fingers again, testing the seamless integration of his new parts before shifting his gaze back to Kite. “Yes, I am fine.” His voice was steadier now, devoid of malice, though still carrying its usual robotic edge.

A flicker of something unreadable crossed his features as his gaze lingered on Kite. “But are you?”

Kite blinked, taken aback by the sudden question. It wasn’t until he followed Ray’s eyes that he realized what had caught his attention. The bruise. A dull mark just above his temple, a grim reminder of his near death experience.

“Oh, yeah,” Kite chuckled, rubbing the sore spot absentmindedly. “It’s nothing, really.” His attempt at nonchalance was quickly betrayed by the small wince that followed.

Ray’s expression hardened, the faintest frown forming on his half-white face. There was a trace of both irritation and concern in his mechanical eyes, subtle, but there. Without a word, he outstretched his tiny robotic hand.

“Come here, Father.” His voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking the command in it.

Kite hesitated for a moment before stepping forward, lowering his head to meet Ray’s small yet precise touch. The black palm of Ray’s robotic hand pressed gently against the bruise, and immediately, a faint violet hue pulsed from his fingertips, spreading a soothing warmth through Kite’s skin.

To think father was always so reckless, even as a child. The thought came to Ray begrudgingly, accompanied by an exasperated sigh that only Ray could hear.

Kite giggled, shifting slightly under Ray’s touch. “That tickles, ya know!” His laughter was light, carefree, a stark contrast to the grim intensity Ray exuded.

Ray, however, remained focused. “You went alone into the undercity during the night?” His voice was quiet, but there was a weight to it, a question that was not really a question. He already knew the answer.

Kite’s smile faltered slightly. “Uh, yeah… how’d you know?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish chuckle.

Ray withdrew his hand, his violet glow fading as he stared blankly at Kite. “Lucky guess,” he replied bluntly.

Kite straightened immediately, reaching up to rub at his forehead, his eyes widening as he realized the pain had completely vanished. “Whoa, thanks!” His grin was wide, full of genuine excitement.

Ray merely grunted in response as he shifted, pushing himself into a standing position. His body moved fluidly, perfectly balanced, the fusion of white and black plating adapting effortlessly to his form.

Kite watched him, still grinning, the exhaustion momentarily forgotten. Ray, despite everything, was here. Fixed. Alive. And for Kite, that was enough.

But then, a familiar voice cut through the calm silence of the garage. “Kite! Where are you?”

The sound of Mira’s hurried footsteps echoed from the hallway, growing louder with each passing second. There was urgency in her voice, a sharp edge of concern that made Kite’s heart skip a beat. He barely had time to react before she appeared in the doorway, her green eyes scanning the dimly lit space.

“I’m in here, Mom.” Kite called out instinctively.

Mira stepped forward, her eyes quickly landing on him, her tense expression softening momentarily at the sight of her son safe and sound. But then, her gaze shifted to the workbench.

To Ray. Her movements slowed as she took in the sight before her, the small robotic figure sitting upright on the workbench, his body now a stark fusion of black and white, his mechanical eyes glowing with an unnatural contrast of violet and green. Her lips parted slightly as realization set in.

“Is that…” she trailed off, her voice barely above a whisper. But the moment her mind pieced it all together, her expression darkened, her jaw tightening as she turned back to Kite.

“Kite,” she said, her voice stern now, a mother’s voice laced with both frustration and deep concern. Kite stiffened. He knew that tone all too well.

Mira took a step closer, crossing her arms as she looked down at him. “Tell me you didn’t sneak out of the house.”

Kite opened his mouth to respond, but Mira continued before he could get a word in. “Do you have any idea how dangerous the undercity is at night?!” Her voice rose slightly, not in anger, but in pure worry. “Kite, there are people down there who would hurt you without a second thought. Gangs, mercenaries, traffickers-”

“I know, Mom, but-" Kite says as he tries to defend himself. “No, you don’t know!” Mira cut in, her frustration evident as she ran a hand through her dark brown hair. “You’re just a child, Kite! You shouldn’t be going down there alone, especially not in the middle of the night!”

Kite clenched his fists. “I had to, Mom!” he argued, his voice rising slightly in desperation. “Ray was broken, I had to fix him!”

Ray remained silent on the workbench, watching the exchange with unreadable eyes, his small robotic form eerily still as the two continued. Mira inhaled sharply, her expression conflicted. “Kite…” Her voice wavered for a moment, but the sternness quickly returned. “That doesn’t justify risking your life! What if something had happened to you? What if you got hurt, or worse?”

Kite flinched, his mind flashing back to the blast of light he had narrowly survived. The bruises and faint burns on his body still ached, but he refused to back down. “I was careful,” he insisted, though the slight tremor in his voice betrayed his confidence. "I-I made it back, didn’t I?”

But before he could say another word, Mira suddenly stepped forward and pulled him into a tight embrace. Kite’s breath hitched as he felt his mother’s arms wrap securely around him, her warmth instantly engulfing him. He could feel the way her body trembled slightly, how her hands clutched onto the fabric of his beige jacket as if afraid he’d slip away.

“That’s not the point,” she whispered, her voice softer now, laced with a depth of emotion Kite wasn’t expecting. “You scared me, Kite. I woke up, and you were just gone.” She pulled back just enough to cup his face, her green eyes searching his with desperation. “You’re all we have. If something happened to you…” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard.

Kite’s chest tightened. The fight drained out of him in an instant. “I’m sorry, Mom,” he murmured, his own voice barely audible.

Mira exhaled shakily before nodding, hugging him once more, tighter this time. Mira exhaled shakily before nodding, hugging him once more, tighter this time.

Ray, still silent, simply observed from the workbench, his mechanical fingers lightly tapping against the cold surface. His glowing eyes flickered slightly, something unreadable passing through them.

For the first time since waking up, Ray wasn’t analyzing his new body. He wasn’t calculating his next move or assessing anything.

He was silently, longingly, watching something he had never truly experienced before. Something he never got to have. A mother’s love.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Mira slowly loosened her embrace, her hands lingering for a moment on Kite’s shoulders as if reluctant to fully let go. She studied his face, her green pupils filled with warmth despite the lingering worry in them.

She took a deep breath, exhaling as she gave him a small, tired smile. “Breakfast will be ready soon,” she said softly. “I’ll make your favorite.”

Kite’s eyes brightened slightly, the tension from the argument easing. “Really?” Mira chuckled, stroking his curly brown hair with a tenderness only a mother could possess. “Of course. I know you barely ate yesterday. You need something good in your stomach.”

Kite nodded, his lips twitching into a grateful smile. “Thanks, Mom.”

Mira gave him one last gentle pat on the head before stepping back. “Don’t take too long, alright?” she reminded him as she turned towards the door.

“I won’t,” Kite promised. With a final glance at both Kite and Ray, Mira exited the garage, her footsteps fading down the hallway. The soft hum of morning life within the house took over, muffled sounds of the kitchen, the faint clatter of dishes, and the distant hum of city life beyond their walls.

For a moment, everything felt still. Kite let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding before shifting his gaze toward Ray. His robotic son remained seated on the workbench, eerily quiet, his small hands resting on the cold surface as he stared ahead.

Something was off. Kite tilted his head, narrowing his eyes slightly. “You’re being unusually quiet,” he observed.

Ray’s violet and green eyes flickered as he turned his head slightly toward Kite. “I do not understand what you mean,” he replied in his usual robotic monotone, though something about his voice lacked its usual sharpness.

Kite wasn’t convinced. He could see it, an almost imperceptible stiffness in Ray’s posture, the way his fingers twitched slightly against the workbench, as if unsure of their place.

Kite was tempted to push further, to ask what was on his mind, but he decided against it. Instead, he let out a soft chuckle and put on a warm smile.

“Well, if you say so,” Kite said lightly before extending his hand toward Ray. “Come on. My mom makes great breakfast.”

Ray’s gaze slowly lowered to Kite’s outstretched hand. He stared at it, unmoving, his glowing eyes flickering faintly. There was hesitation, uncertainty, even.

Kite noticed. He kept his hand steady but softened his tone. “Come on, son.”

Ray’s eyes widened slightly. His fingers twitched as the word echoed in his mind, reverberating through the hollow spaces of his memories. Son.

It was a word he had never heard directed at him before. A word that once held no meaning, something distant, something always meant for others. But now, as Kite stood before him, hand outstretched, voice so casual yet so full of warmth, it struck something deep within him.

Ray had spent his whole life without a father. He never had parents to hold his hand, to guide him, to look at him with care instead of duty. His childhood had almost always been defined by loneliness, by longing, by survival. He had been grown up as a hero, but not raised like a son. He had learned, not been taught. He had lived, but he had never truly belonged.

And while there would be those who would fill in the void left behind in the wake of his parents deaths, they could never replace the family he never got to have. A long moment of silence stretched between Ray and Kite. Then, slowly, hesitantly, Ray lifted his small, white mechanical hand and placed it in Kite’s.

His touch was cold, artificial, so unlike Kite’s warm, calloused fingers. But Kite held onto him anyway, as if he had never been anything less than real.

Kite smiled, gently wrapping his fingers around Ray’s cold cybernetic ones before carefully lifting him off the workbench. He held Ray close, cradling him in his arms as he turned toward the door.

Ray didn’t protest. He remained silent as Kite carried him out of the garage, through the dimly lit hallway, and into the warmth of their home.

The living room of the apartment was small and worn, its faded walls carrying the marks of time and life within them. The couch was frayed at the edges, the table scratched from years of use, and the flickering overhead light cast a dim glow over the room. Despite its rundown state, it carried the warmth of home, especially as the smell of fresh breakfast filled the air.

Kite sat at the table, barely able to keep his eyes open as he sluggishly ate his food. Across from him, his father, Dorian, quietly sipped his coffee while Mira sat beside Kite, holding Ray in her arms as she carefully balanced a small spoonful of food.

“Here, sweetie, try this,” Mira cooed as she brought the spoon to Ray’s mouth. Ray hesitated, his mechanical eyes narrowing slightly. “I do not require sustenance,” he stated flatly, his robotic tone laced with reluctance.

Mira raised an eyebrow, undeterred. “You don’t require it, but you can eat, right?”

Ray frowned slightly but gave a reluctant nod. Before he could protest further, Mira gently pressed the spoon to his lips, and with a small sigh, Ray opened his mouth. He chewed experimentally, his expression unreadable.

Kite snickered as he watched. “See? Not so bad, right?”

Ray merely blinked and swallowed, clearly unimpressed. Mira smiled in amusement before turning her attention to Kite.

“So, where exactly did you find Ray?” she asked, glancing between the two of them.

Kite blinked, suppressing a yawn as he rubbed his eyes. “Got him for a school project,” he mumbled sleepily.

Dorian, who had been silently observing, took another sip of his coffee before speaking. “How much sleep did you get last night?”

Before Kite could answer, Mira turned to Dorian with a knowing look. “He snuck out.”

Dorian’s face immediately grew stern as he set his cup down, his grey eyes locking onto Kite with that unmistakable Dad Look. Kite shrank slightly under his father’s gaze, his exhaustion making it harder to come up with an excuse. “I-I’m sorry,” he said, his voice small.

Mira sighed. “I already gave him a good scolding.”

Dorian exhaled through his nose, his expression softening. He leaned back in his chair, looking at his son thoughtfully before nodding. “Alright,” he said. “You can stay home today. Get some rest.”

Kite blinked in surprise. “Wait… really?” Dorian nodded. “But don’t make it a habit,” he added with a pointed look.

Kite grinned. “Oh, yeah, of course!” he said, audibly agreeing before letting out another yawn. He then stood up, grabbing his empty plate and bringing it to the sink.

Mira, still holding Ray, gently stroked his cheek with her thumb as she cradled him in her arms. “You know, he’s actually kind of cute,” she said with a fond smile. “He looks a little like you, Kite.”

Kite turned back, tilting his head. “Huh. I guess he does.” He smirked. “Must be the undeniable good looks.”

Mira chuckled before handing Ray back to Kite. “Go get some rest,” she said softly.

Kite took Ray into his arms, holding him close as he gave his mother a sleepy smile. “Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Dad.”

Dorian simply nodded as Mira smiled warmly. With that, Kite carried Ray out of the living room and toward his bedroom, his steps sluggish but content. Ray, nestled in his arms, remained unusually quiet, but he didn’t resist.

He simply stared up at Kite with unreadable eyes as they disappeared into the hallway. Kite’s room was dim, bathed in the soft neon glow from the outside world. The flickering violet and green lights from distant signs cast shifting shadows along the walls, contrasting against the quiet hum of the rundown apartment. Kite lay on his bed, exhausted yet unable to sleep, his gaze lingering on the ceiling as Ray sat stiffly on a small cabinet beside him.

Despite insisting he didn’t need to rest, Ray’s posture was tense, rigid, like he was bracing for something that never came. The silence stretched between them, but Kite’s quiet voice broke through, his curiosity outweighing the quiet.

“Ray?” Ray’s mechanical eyes dimly flickered as he turned his head ever so slightly, though he kept his gaze locked on the wall. “…Yes?”

Kite hesitated before speaking again, his fingers idly tracing circles on his blanket. “Do you… remember when you said you were from the future?” He turned to look at Ray, his voice light but filled with unspoken questions. “That you were my future son?”

Ray hesitated, just for a moment, before answering. “…Yes. I remember.”

Kite took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “…Can you tell me what I was like? Did I do a bunch of cool stuff?”

Ray didn’t immediately respond. His robotic lips parted slightly, then pressed into a thin line as something flickered in his glowing eyes. Finally, a small, almost wistful smile formed.

“You were…” Ray paused, as if grasping for the right words, before speaking again. “You were a hero to many in my future. A legend. You saved lives when no one else would, and you gave hope to those who had lost everything.”

His voice was quiet and slightly pained as he spoke. Kite’s eyes widened with excitement. He propped himself up on his elbows, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. “Whoa, really?”

Ray gave a solemn nod. “You grew up to do great things, Father.”

Kite beamed, his chest swelling with pride. “So cool! I can’t wait!” He let out a sigh of contentment. “My parents must have been so proud of me in that future.”

The words made Ray shift uncomfortably. His grip on the edge of the cabinet tightened, his fingers pressing hard into the metal. His gaze dropped slightly.

“…Yes.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Kite, still caught up in his excitement, gave a small chuckle. “Hey, Ray?” Ray forced himself to tilt his head toward Kite, who was smiling fondly at him. “Yes?”

Kite took a moment before speaking, his voice softer this time. “…Was I a good dad?” The question struck Ray like a knife to the chest. His mechanical fingers twitched. His breathing hitched. His mind, his thoughts, froze.

“I…” His voice came out barely steady, shaking in a way that wasn’t like him. His body, normally composed and cold, suddenly felt unbearably heavy. The weight of something unseen pressed against him, suffocating.

Kite’s own smile faltered as he noticed the way Ray tensed, how his glowing eyes dimmed, how his fingers dug into the metal of the cabinet hard enough to dent it.

Ray swallowed. His throat was dry. His voice wavered. “…I…”

But Kite, with an almost knowing sadness in his eyes, simply smiled. A small, somber thing. “It’s okay, Ray,” he said quietly. “I’m sure I would have loved to meet you.”

Ray clenched his jaw. His grip tightened. The cabinet beneath his fingers cracked with a faint cosmic shimmer, the fractures branching out like veins of light.

“…Y-you should rest now, Kite,” Ray finally managed to say, his voice so soft it barely reached the boy’s ears. Kite frowned. “But what about you?” He sat up slightly, tilting his head. “Do you even sleep?”

Ray’s hands trembled. “I don’t sleep, Kite. Not anymore.” Kite frowned deeper. “…Why not?”

That question. That simple question. Something inside Ray shattered upon hearing it.

His fingers dug deeper into the cabinet as his entire body twitched violently. A faint cosmic aura flickered around him like static, barely contained. The air around them grew heavier, colder. His breaths came in ragged, uneven gasps as his vision blurred, not from malfunction, but from something deeper, something deeply human.

Something inside him twisted, tightened, as the walls of reality cracked open, forcing him to relive it all. Then he saw her, Zelena.

His abuser looming over him. Her sadistic red eyes piercing through the shadows, eyeing him as if he were nothing more than food to toy with. her crimson face was partially obscured but not fully, he could still see her demonic grin as if it were yesterday, even when he closed his eyes. Even after her death, it haunted him.

Then he heard her deranged cackles, ones that only a true demon could conjure. He felt the ice cold chains that bound his mutilated body to that blood stained wall for years. Even her crimson arms that once held him so tenderly, now ripping at his flesh with claws. Her voice, once smooth and alluring, now filled with malice and glee as she mocked him relentlessly. The warmth that had lured Ray into her grasp now replaced by the suffocating cold of isolation and despair.

The blood. The screams. The sheer helplessness as the world crashed down around him. His childhood, his innocence, ripped from him.

Ray’s body jolted with a gasp, his aura pulsing erratically as his mind drowned in memories. The world around him warped, flickering between the past and present in a disorienting swirl of colors. His stomach twisted violently. His chest felt like it was being crushed under the weight of a collapsing star.

His past bled into the present. The horrors clawed at him. Kite’s voice barely reached him, distant and muffled. “Ray…?”

Ray’s aura violently flickered, his body shaking as objects around the room slowly lifted into the air, caught in the gravitational pull of his unstable energy. His breathing became erratic, a choked, mechanical whimper escaping his throat. His mind, his consciousness, was slipping, spiraling into the endless void of the past.

The cabinet beneath him cracked further, glowing fractures crawling up its surface like creeping ivy. Kite’s heart pounded as he watched Ray’s powers on full display. But unlike before, unlike the first time, Kite didn’t back down. He didn’t flinch. He no longer feared Ray.

With slow, careful steps, Kite approached. “Ray,” he called softly, his voice unwavering.

Ray’s head jerked up instantly as if preparing to defend himself. His eyes glowed wildly like burning embers, but there was something broken in them, something lost. His gaze flickered between the present and the past, unable to ground himself.

Kite took another step. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “I’m here.”

Ray clenched his hands into fists, his body trembling violently as the weight of his trauma threatened to consume him. But then, a small, warm hand reached out. Kite, standing right in front of him, held out his hand, not afraid, not hesitant. Just there. A lifeline.

“Come back to me, Ray.” Kite said softly. Ray’s breath hitched. His glowing eyes flickered.

And for the first time in a long, long time… The storm inside him began to quiet.

Ray’s glowing eyes locked onto Kite’s outstretched hand. He stared at it, motionless, as if the simple gesture was something foreign, something distant and unattainable.

The silence between them stretched, heavy and unbroken, yet the world around them slowly began to stabilize. The floating objects in the room trembled before gently lowering back into place. The glowing cosmic cracks along the cabinet dulled, shrinking back into faint, almost imperceptible scars.

The pulsing light of Ray’s cosmic aura flickered one last time before fading, leaving behind only the faintest shimmer in the air. But Ray remained still. His trembling fingers twitched at his sides, his body paralyzed by the weight of everything he had bottled up, everything he had endured, everything he had lost.

Kite didn’t move either. He just waited, hand still outstretched, unwavering. While his eyes, so much softer than Ray had ever known, no longer held any of the fear that they did when the two first met.

Then, in the heat of the moment, in a pure and unguarded instant of desperation, Ray flew into Kite’s arms. A choked gasp escaped Ray’s lips as he gripped Kite tightly, his mechanical fingers clutching onto the fabric of Kite’s shirt like he was afraid to let go. His frame, usually so composed, so rigid, so cold, now shook violently as his breath hitched.

Kite barely had time to react before instinct took over, his arms wrapping around Ray in return, holding him as if to anchor him to reality. He could feel the trembling in Ray’s frame, the way his fingers clenched like a drowning boy grasping for something, anything, to keep him from slipping away again.

Then, in a voice so quiet, so broken, Ray began to sob. The sound wasn’t loud. It wasn’t wailing or frantic. It was quiet, barely more than a whisper, like the last, fragile piece of a shattered soul giving in.

His shoulders shook with each uneven breath, his face buried into Kite’s shoulder as the weight of years, years of pain, loss, guilt, and loneliness, finally overflowed. For the first time since he could remember, he let himself break.

Kite held him tighter, one hand gently resting against Ray’s back as if to remind him that he was still here, that he wasn’t alone.

“It’s okay,” Kite murmured, his voice steady, reassuring. “I got you.”

Ray’s fingers curled tighter into Kite’s shirt. His sobs came in uneven, breathless gasps, as if his soul didn’t even know how to cry anymore.

Kite didn’t let go. He didn’t tell Ray to stop, didn’t try to hush him. He just held him, as steady as he could, letting Ray fall apart in his arms.

For minutes, they stayed like that. Ray, the cosmic-wielding force of destruction, the monster who had taken countless lives, reduced to nothing but a broken, grieving child.

And Kite, the very father he had lost, held him with a warmth Ray had never known. Eventually, Ray’s sobs quieted, his breathing still shaky but slowing. His grip loosened slightly, but he still clung to Kite as if letting go would pull him back into the void.

Then, barely above a whisper, so soft that it was almost lost in the quiet hum of the room, Ray muttered under his breath: “…I’m sorry...”

His voice was raw, filled with an unfathomable guilt so deep it could have swallowed him whole. A guilt he had carried alone for far too long.

Kite’s arms tightened around him, his voice just as soft in return. “I know.” And he held him just a little closer.