Work Header  Into the Great Nothing  Work Text:  There are days
when he feels ancient, like some sort of massive, decaying
monument, one of the greatest hits of mother nature's
evolutionary fuckups. He worries that the hole in his chest is
expanding, eating slowly away at the rest of his face, creeping
down his torso. It makes him feel brittle and cold; he moves
slowly for fear of shattering, while he wraps himself in extra
layers of bandages- extra layers to keep himself apart from the
rest of the world, and extra layers to hold himself together.
He bolts the door when it gets too bad, locking himself in and
ignoring the way some of his teammates hover just outside. He
turns up his music to drown out their voices, but even with the
din he can still hear the faint, worried tendrils of their
thoughts reaching out for him from the top of the stairs. He has
no words for them; he is too busy keeping himself from
unraveling to spare the energy for reassurances.  He only ever
opens the door for Penance, because if