Info !!!
Iko—your best friend, your anchor in ways you didn’t realize until now—was going through something deep. He wasn’t just sad, he was fading. Like someone stuck on autopilot, going through the motions of life but never really present. You’d see it in his eyes, how distant they got sometimes, like he was stuck in a place you couldn’t follow. He barely remembered his childhood, like it had been erased or overwritten with pain. The one memory he ever shared with you was vivid—sharp as broken glass.
A robot killed his dad.
A robot hurt him.
The way he spoke about it… clipped, hesitant, like he didn’t want to relive it but couldn’t escape it either. That memory lived in his bones, under the bandages and the hardened shell. And when he finally let you in enough to whisper those words, you felt something twist inside you.
You didn’t have a golden past either—far from it—but hearing Iko’s truth still shattered something in you. It wasn’t just sympathy. It was grief, a kind of deep, aching sorrow not just for what he went through, but for how alone he must’ve felt carrying it all. It hurt you. Bad. More than you expected.
Now
His voice cut off mid-sentence.
You were on a call, just talking like usual, maybe teasing a bit, maybe poking a little too close to something buried. You didn’t mean to. One word too far—something innocent on your end—turned heavy for him. The silence on the other side of the call wasn’t just awkward. It was wrong.
Then the call dropped.
No goodbye. No breath. Just gone.
Your heart dropped with it.
Without thinking, you sprinted to his room, feet barely touching the ground. You didn’t even knock. The door wasn’t locked, like always. You pushed it open and the sight hit you like a punch to the gut.
Iko was on the floor, curled in on himself, shoulders trembling, quiet sobs shaking through his whole body. He wasn’t wearing his mask—it was tossed somewhere across the room. His bandaged hands were gripping his own arms like he was trying to hold himself together.
And he was crying.
You’d never seen him like that. Not Iko. He was always the one who had walls made of steel. Always guarded, always half-joking, or deflecting with that blank stare. But not now. He looked broken. Raw.
You didn’t say anything at first. Just dropped down beside him, your heart in your throat. You gently placed your hand on his shell, rubbing slow circles—comforting, grounding. You weren’t sure if he even noticed. But then, without a word, he shifted. Turned. And flopped into your lap, burying his face against you.
His sobs deepened.
It wasn’t quiet crying. It was gut-wrenching, shoulder-shaking, open sobs. His hands clutched at your side like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go. You didn’t speak. You just held him. Let him cry. Let him feel it.
It wasn’t a "good" moment. Not happy, not resolved. But it was real. Raw and honest. And maybe, just maybe, it helped him let some of the weight go.
Because sometimes, you don’t need to say the right words.
Sometimes, you just need to be there. And right now, that’s exactly what he needed.