“So…. Where does this leave us?”

It was a tough conversation to have. They are across from each other, at a distance. Caustic desires it this way- far enough for them to be unable to touch but close enough to make eye contact. He knows Octavio cannot comfort his pain. Caustic steels himself, putting up barriers to prevent a collapse of himself in front of the other. He is hurting and he cannot let Octavio through such gates.

They can’t go back. The result of Caustic’s failure is below them in the ruins of the exploded lab below. He hadn’t touched the portal device in days, and it was… Caustic wants to vomit. It was unsalvageable.

Octane stares at Caustic for a long moment, his brain trying to reimagine this as it should be. In another set up, Caustic would be hunched over himself, fingers laced together under his chin and elbows resting on his knees. Octane is often clueless, but he can understand the chemist’s behavior… sometimes. He should do something, reach out and uh… put his hand on his shoulder or something. He’s not sure if that’s the right thing to do. The illusion vanishes, and Caustic is laying across his couch, tail hanging over the edge, head on his paws. “Cause like- we can’t kill each other, I can’t play hot-potato with all these wounds, you can’t kill me-” It’s the fundamentals. That’s the agreement. “I mean… you know me, I-” Octane waves his paws, “I get bored of people, and… I don’t want to get bored of you.” The scientist is many things to Octavio, above all- fun. In Octane’s own twisted way of fun. “I mean, fuck, we could always-”

They look at eachother.

Neither of them want to say it.

Caustic knows what he’s thinking of, and he detests the idea. It had its own… merits unfortunately. He won’t do it, but the idea is there and they’re both batshit insane enough to consider it. Without the games, without the other legends, and the social constructs that held them together, what were they? Who were they? Octane is a separate entity from Octavio Silva, but Caustic is a creature made by and for bloodsport. His identity as Caustic is rooted in the blood of others. Nox, however… Caustic thinks of the idyllic scientist of his past, how foolish he was. This identity is not the same, and Caustic would never hold Octavio’s hand like Nox would with Luc’s. “You could… stick around.” Caustic’s proposal is… unlike him. He can’t explain the feeling to Octavio, and won’t even attempt to.

“You… Want me to stay?” Octane steps from his seat, watching Caustic sit up. “Mi químico, I thought I was too annoying for you~” The wolf’s ears tilt back as Octane steps closer.

“Well it, uh-” Caustic coughs, “Octavio, I don’t want to joke around.” he says, as Octavio draws closer still. “I am… struggling to accept the reality of our situation.” The wolf watches the playful nature drop from Octavio’s posture, and gives a deep sigh.

“I want to go home.” Caustic musters, sucking in a breath as Octavio dares to step closer. They are within arms reach now, “We should not die here, we are better than that.” Caustic glances to the basement, “I’m better than that. I have to get us out of here.” The wolf wheezes and coughs.

Octane sits down in front of the chemist, legs scraping against wood. He reaches out, putting a paw on Caustic’s own, jumping as the wolf reels back at the contact. “Caustic,” he chirps, “I don’t know what to tell you.” What’s he supposed to say? “Oh, it’s okay,” because it wasn’t and that wasn’t what Caustic wanted to hear. “We’re just… stuck, I guess,” Octane hisses, thinking about it.

“I miss all my fans- the gunfire, the screams and cheering.” Octane rolls his shoulders, the idea rolling around in his head. “I miss what we had, Caustic.”

It’s Caustic’s turn to reach out now, paw on his shoulder. "I know. I’m sorry.” His ears tilt back at the thought, as he lets Octavio join him on the couch. "My health is getting worse, and-" Caustic tips his head off to the side.

"Well, tell you what-" Octane smirks, trying to lighten him up in a toothy smile. "We'll find something to do, eh, mi químico?"