Chapter Text
Hal Emmerich was quite a basic man. He worked at a grocery store as someone who stocked shelves and lived in a dingy apartment, watching anime and eating instant ramen most days after work. He used to be a prodigy, getting nothing but A's and taking the most advanced classes he could. But that could never last through high school. He wanted to be an engineer, he had studied so hard for it, but it had all been for nothing that 11th year. His most advanced classes yet and he slacked off. He was too much of a coward to stay after graduating, packing a bag of essentials and a few hundred dollars he saved up over the years thanks to his rich family and running away at the age of 17 until he found himself a job.
Days kept blending into weeks and weeks into months for a long time, so long it had begun to feel like time didn't move at all. Like he was stuck in a stalemate with life itself. But it was Tuesday, and this Tuesday Hal had off. He knew this week would be a long one by the way Sunday and Monday seemed to drift on forever, running around all over the market stocking the endless sea of shelves.
Waking up at around 11:30, much earlier than he usually did after staying up until 5:00 watching anime, he felt overly tired. The next 30 minutes of his time were spent tossing and turning in his bedding attempting to wind himself back into a slumber to no avail.
Hal finally found it in himself to shower, for he knew he likely smelt like shit by now after not doing so for almost a week in the spring to summer heat. He'd gone longer without them, but that wasn't exactly a good thing. He worked his way to the bathroom in his baggy pajama pants and oversized graphic t-shirt, closed the door, and locked it.
Everything felt okay as he turned the knob for the shower water and slowly began to strip off his clothing. As he got into the shower and began to clean his upper body, his focus started to shift downwards. Everything felt okay.
That was until he saw the light scars on his leg, mostly faded now. A lasting memory he gave himself of what he had done, and suddenly the water started to feel unbearably hot.
Almost on instinct, he reached across the shower and grabbed a razor off the nearby shelf. It still had the red tint from the last time he had used it. Not wanting to get an infection, despite how much he deserved it, he rinsed the blade off in the steaming water. The scars were fading too much already, he did it too lightly last time.
It was such a dull memory. He took a breath, imagining the hands crawl up his thigh. He deserved to feel the unease coursing through his body the way he was beginning to react to these memories. Besides, he liked it before, didn't he? He wanted that feeling she gave him, even if it now feels he'll never be loved again. He most definitely doesn't deserve it. Looking down at his naked body once again reminded him of hands. Everywhere, suffocating him, choking him, wanting him. He'd wish those hands had killed him, not left him a broken, selfish, slut of a man, longing for those hands again.
aiming for his thigh, he made the first cut swiftly. One, for the first time he and his step-mother had an affair. Then a second one, counting all the way up to the 5th. The last was a little deeper than the rest, and feeling the hot water touch his fresh wounds made him muffle a cry into his hand. A tear dripped down his cheek, mixing in with the shower water beating down on his face, then eventually mixing with the blood dripping down his leg. It burnt. It burnt so bad, but he didn't stop there. He couldn't. One last cut to represent the loss of everything he had, his father, his sister, his home, his future.
. . . . . . .
His guts lay open in his cavity as they were caressed oh so gently by a creature with the face of a beautiful woman. Its body was a mess of guts and flesh, and its eyes were piercing. That thing was anything but human, and yet its touch was so soft. He was in a beautiful field, yes, with butterflies surrounding him. He felt like he was 7 again, with his mother chasing around insects. Until the beast laid its hands on his neck. He tried to scream, to cry, to do something, but nothing came out other than a strangled sound he had never heard himself make before.
He was staring at the wall. Blank, slightly stained from God knows what, but so empty and clear in its light blue coloration accompanied by the white tile. The water was ice cold now, he should probably get out.
This was how most showers went for him and he disliked it greatly, all thinking, and no real cleansing. It was a reminder of his failures as a person, as a son, as a brother. He didn't want to even begin to start thinking about Emma, and so he turned off the water and stepped out of the small stall. He checked his phone that was lying on the sink top. 35 minutes had passed of him standing there, staring at the wall, and he didn't even remember any of it. He glanced down at his thighs again. If only I wasn't so weak, he almost growled aloud as he looked in distain at his lower half. He looked his face in the mirror and a pair of exhausted eyes stared back. Everything was just so tiring now.
His leg stung in the cold air of his apartment, the deeper cuts still dripping blood onto the floor. Once again not wanting to risk infection, he retrieved a bottle of antiseptic and a wrap to cover his leg. Bleeding through and staining his clothes after this didn't seem the most appealing to him.
Positioning himself so that his leg was in the shower stall, he applied the antiseptic and let out a loud hiss as it ran slowly down his thigh. He got a rag to dab away gently at the cuts before wrapping it up. After everything, a full hour and a half had passed and he knew half of it was just him staring at walls or into nowhere.
Hopefully this day wouldn't be a waste of sitting around doing nothing again. A lot of days were like that now.
After he got dressed and whilst sitting on the couch, he began to wonder what he would do on his day off work. Perhaps do some cleaning if he could gather the motivation to do so, which wasn't likely. Maybe go outside, but once again, that'd require motivation and also the strength to be around people, which would be tiresome.
Finally, he landed on something as he waited for water to boil. He could try that game a co-worker recommended for him, an old one called Metal Gear Solid. He didn't know much about it other than the fact it was made before he was born, that it happened to be quite popular, and also that he actually had enough money for it.
He poured the now boiling water into his bowl of instant ramen and paced around waiting for the noodles to cook. It'd definitely be a more peaceful way to spend his day than worrying over motivation and whether or not he was wasting his life. He could have used his parents money and begged for college, and yet he didn't. He could be studying to be at least a mediocre engineer, for his grades and GPA the last 2 years weren't exactly MIT scores.
No, he couldn't think about this right now, he had ramen to eat.
He grabbed a soda from the fridge, a fork, and his bowl of ramen and made his way back to the mess that was his bedroom. Clothes littered the floor where they weren't piled, certain articles of clothing smelling like piss that he hadn't washed yet. He moved more trash off his desk onto the floor, careful not to knock over any glasses as he made room for that day's meal.
As he sat down and began to eat, he opened his laptop and began to search for the game, not that it was necessarily hard to find. He watched it download slowly while slurping up his noodles and drinking the soda he got, tapping his finger on the desk occasionally out of boredom. Once the game had downloaded, he opened it almost immediately.
It didn't take him long to get engrossed into the game with a main character like that. The minute he heard his voice it was like he had been punched in the gut by a feeling he hadn't had in a long time.
Solid Snake, the in-game legend, famous around the world, able to defeat enemies with ease. He was obsessed with him through the few hours he played the game.
The longer he played, the more he felt it, until one thought crossed his mind.
I think I'm in love.
. . . . . . .
Days passed and all he could think about was Solid Snake and Sniper Wolf at work. Mainly Snake. There was something about his voice that made Hal just go wild, imagining himself at the receiving end of his harsh words. At night, he'd begun to fantasize about him. If he'd like cooking, if he would cuddle, what he'd be like in bed, imagining little scenarios of things occurring with them together.
It didn't take him long to form a persona of sorts, a man he called Otacon. It stood for otaku convention, and he was just like Hal but brave, successful, smart. Spent his life working up for doing things for the greater good, even when his work was used for the complete opposite thing. After about a week of this, he already had so much of his character planned out. How they'd meet, why he was important to the story, what exactly his goal was, even his design.
Otacon was nearly identical to Hal himself, but instead of having hair so light brown it appeared grey, it was darker, and his round glasses were replaced with rectangular ones. He'd wear a turtleneck and a cool lab coat, but his personality would be almost identical. As much as he didn't want to make his Snake deal with an annoying cry baby, it'd be more realistic that way, and maybe he could feel more loved in the process.
It also didn't take long for him to feel jealous of Meryl. While he could just focus on being with Sniper Wolf for a night in his head, or just imagine Meryl as a whole didn't exist, but he couldn't just give in like that. He had to make some excuse for Snake to be his, he thought to himself on a Friday night, only his. Besides, it wasn't like he was real, as much as Hal wished for it, he could think these things all he wanted. And so, it was decided by him that there would be a second ending, an Otacon ending, where Meryl wouldn't be a problem anymore.
The longer this went on, the less he cared about personal hygiene. He didn't think it was possible to get even worse than he was, but it was getting to the point where he wouldn't even apply deodorant. He disgusted himself but it was all okay, because he had Snake and the little world he had made in his head.
His co-workers started to look a little bit concerned for him. Maybe it was the larger bags under his eyes or the fact his hair was unkempt, maybe even that he smelt pretty bad despite his efforts to cover it up with a large jacket. He didn't want to be a burden to any of these people, so he'd always say he was, "just a little stressed lately."
It was quite the opposite, if he were being honest. He'd never been more okay in his life even though he didn't look like it. Showers were better with a distraction, though he wasn't showering nearly as much as he should. He hadn't punished his legs in weeks, not even little scratches he'd often leave on himself in between the large, scarring wounds. Everything was okay, actually. He was getting a little better mentally. Maybe soon he could take a few steps forward in hygiene to make up for the many steps back he'd recently taken. But, the more he thought, the more obsessed with his own little world he got. It didn't really matter as long as you have something to live for, right?
Hours upon hours were spent in front of his computer screen, even more so than usual. He'd draw his fictional lover constantly, write little snippets of what their life would be like together, watch videos of Solid Snake, and, on occasion, read fanfiction of him when he wasn't writing it himself. It made him upset that there was so little of him on his own, it was always him with Meryl. That's wrong, he'd always think to himself. Snake had to be at least bisexual, especially with a codename like that. He liked his real name, though, David.
He'd stay up late on work days and get up early on his off days just for him. Drawing things of them, of him using Otacon and satisfying himself like he should, it was exactly how Otacon could be even more useful. He dreamed of being useful to Snake, of helping him on his journey. He'd give his everything to him.
Hal's performance was slacking at work, that he knew. People kept telling him he was too deep inside his head, zoning out all the time and accidentally dropping cans and boxes. He liked to imagine snake being there to help him, picking up the things he dropped and handing it to him with his strong arms. The thought of his body made him want to drool, but he couldn't fawn there. Not at work for everyone to see, he'd look crazy.
The month had flown by at that point, making it already August by the time he finally took a moment to think about things. It had been 5 weeks since he had originally played the game, and he hadn't even realized it. It made him laugh to himself as he laid in his bed. The room he slept in had seen far better days, the clothes piles once again quite large due to him not doing laundry for a few weeks, but at least he found it in himself to clean off his desk for the first time in about a month and the trash surrounding it.
Something felt off, but he couldn't place his finger on what. He'd spent the past hour watching nothing but Metal Gear Solid video clips, so he definitely wasn't forgetting anything. Maybe it was weird to have a semi-cleaned room for once, and he decided that was likely the reason. He Bundled himself under the covers and snuggled close to a pillow he had, wrapping his arms around it and imagining that pillow to be Snake. Drifting off to sleep, he was happy.
"Hey."
Hal groaned and shifted a little, pulling his comforter over his face. Then he realized, he recognized that voice.
"Maybe you could tell me why I'm here instead of away with Meryl."
Everything he was thinking drained from his head. This couldn't be real.