Coping Skills

The memories of Sprx's time under the Fire of Hate came back to him in fragments, often triggered by what seemed like the most benign words and situations. Being referred to as a "brother" was no longer a pleasant experience for him, and heat waves now made him exponentially uncomfortable.

He never knew what would set him off before it did – not that he would warn anybody about his triggers even if he could because he wasn't some baby who needed coddling guys, "seriously I'm fine" – and each time something brought about a flashback he'd ask to be excused with a level of politeness that made everyone worry even more. If his room wasn't solitary enough for him, he'd take the Fist Rocket. He used to have to turn off the ship's radio as concerned questions as to what'd he'd remembered poured in, but after several incidences of Sprx "breaking up" before he could reply, he'd finally earned his alone time. It wasn't a perfect coping mechanism, but it had worked so far.

Had.

But then – while chatting with Nova in a moment that could only be seen as completely random – Sprx stopped mid-sentence. His eyes widened to their largest aperture as he stared at Nova, his huge white pupils darting momentarily to her arms, and he didn't excuse himself to return quietly to his room or take the Fist Rocket for a spin.

Instead, he bolted. Right out of the Super Robot into the freezing cold midnight air.

Seconds later, Nova was on her boyfriend's trail, and the others only needed a few more seconds to realize what Sprx must have remembered this time.

A/N: Originally this was going to have another scene at the end, but I think it works well like this. Still, if people would like this to become a two-shot, I'd be down with that, so let me know!

In other news, Tumblr has ruined the word "trigger" for me. Blarg.