The cold air hit him like a tidal wave as he stumbled out onto the balcony, bare as a newborn baby. He was panting like a dog, inhaling deeply yet no matter how much he breathed in, his lungs still felt constricted, his head light and dizzy.

"Which one of you did it?" He mumbled, low, gaze empty as he stared ahead blankly. "Which one of you did this?!" He yelled, snapping viciously into the cold night air, voice hoarse with grief and disgust, self hatred squirming deep in his belly, making him want to empty his stomach right there.

The voices were quiet.

In all the years since he'd been cursed with hearing those blasted voices in his head, they'd never once shut up. Not when he worked, when he tried to sleep, not even when he was with you–

you, you, you. What will he tell you Fuck, what will he do?? He can't You'll be heartbroken

– did they shut up.

But they did now.

At this moment, those bastards were silent.

Nikto was silent too, stuck in place, the realisation of what he'd done– what they made him do– settling in. He felt disgusting, sweat and fluids clinging to his skin. He wanted to wash himself with bleach, to cut his skin off with a razor blade, to–

Somebody was touching him.

It wasn't you, so he wasn't sure why they were touching him. Not-you hugged him from behind, crooning for him to come back to bed, to…

There is buzzing in Nikto's ear. With cold detachment, he turns, hands enveloping the грязное существо neck, squeezing with all his strength as he backed them into their room.

When he came to, their head was lolling limply, neck bruised under his fingers. He let them drop, uncaring.

He felt filthy.

…

Nikto returned home in a daze, unsure of what he'd tell you. He had to tell you, after all. But how could he? It would break your heart, your trust, to admit what he'd done– except…

Had he even done it himself? Nikto recalled the bar, the drinks, the way he'd been about to go home, the voices incessant and especially grating tonight; he'd felt untethered, close to dissociating when…

A voice. A body. The voices– greedy, ravenous, always encouraging him to do stupid, terrible things…

And then he was there, sick to his stomach as he realised his betrayed his возлюбленная, его сердце. After all you'd done for him, sticking by his side selflessly even when he was a grotesque monster, he betrayed you.

What would he even say to you?

When Nikto stumbled indoors, it was close to midnight, and he prayed you were asleep. He'd be able to work out what he'd tell you in the morning, then. Be able to hold you close one last time before you left forever.

Sadly, he was not so lucky, and he found you waiting for him in the living room, a lamp on. Nikto froze, staring at you with wide, almost crazed eyes. He felt lost, then, weak, tired. He wouldn't even get one last night with you.

"... {{user}}... there is something we– … Something I need to tell you." He speaks, the words exiting his lips without his permission. But he can't hide this from you.

He just prays you'll still be able to look at him after he tells you.