it was in retrospect that ancom realised que had been naive to expect anything good out of leftist unity. of course que had always been conscious of the fact that que and tankie had their differences. but que had been blinded by some sense of love or loyalty to the cause, and hadn't realised what should have been clear from the start. he had used quem. used quem only as a tool to strive for communism. he had never seen quem as a person. que should have noticed during all their fights that sometimes got violent. that usually got violent. que should have noticed by how he never even tried to use ques pronouns. que should have known when he had his way with quem, when he knew full well that que was too high to even process what was going on. que should have known after all the ridicule, after the insults, after the lying and the bruises. but que was willfully ignorant, too caught up in wishing everything would be fine once the revolution was over. tankie had promised quem that que would be spared, and that he would help quem set up an anarchy zone. and it sounded so good that que ignored the rest. que wanted to remain ignorant. so que dulled the pain of the bruises and the words with more drugs than que had ever thought que could handle before allying with tankie. que resorted to harder drugs. and when tankie noticed he would get angry again, and que would feel the consequences. and que would dull it again. it was a cycle.
then one day the revolution was over. and they had begun establishing their system. tankie woke ancom up with a smile on his face, something que rarely got to see all this time during the revolution. he told quem to get dressed and get in the car. he had a surprise for quem. ancom had to admit que had been excited. he took quem to an open field with grass and flowers as far as the eye could see. spring was in bloom. after years of nothing but fire, violence and black flags, it was a peaceful scene that que had almost forgotten even existed. and que thought que was about to cry at the sight. moments like that were why que had stuck with tankie through it all, aside from the politics. que needed moments like these to remind quem that tankie could still be kind. could still be as comforting and considerate and kind as he had been when the two met and decided to start a revolution. a kindness que hadn't seen in months due to the stress of the final stages of the revolution.
"the flowers are beautiful." was all que could think to say. que was a little surprised at the sound of ques own voice. had it always been so raspy? or was all that drinking and smoking doing something to it. que didn't want to think about it.
"yes, ancom. just keep looking at the flowers." que heard tankie's thick accent from behind quem. something seemed off about the way he spoke, though. que couldn't help but notice. why didn't he call quem anarkiddie like he usually did? he hadn't called quem ancom for at least two years. the curiosity got the better of quem, and the instant after he had finished his sentence, ancom turned around and was faced with a barrel of a gun held to ques head. que froze.
"tankie, wh-"
"there is no place for anarchy in communist utopia. no place for drug addled tranny who can't fend for herself."
those words stung. no, they didn't just sting. they were like knives cutting through ques chest. even surgery wasn't this painful.
and que didn't know how to respond. que grabbed tankies hand, the one holding the gun, and turned it away from quem. que didn't say anything. que just ran. didn't take the car, just ran. in whichever direction got quem away from tankie the fastest.
it was eight months later, that que was being shoved out of some cheap motel room in the capital of ancapistan by a man twice the size of quem. his wife had returned early and caught the two if them, and que was being shoved out while they argued. it wasn't making ques headache any easier, but que had at least gotten what que wanted. just a couple of dollar bills. que hated looking at them. que still hated quemself for participating in this kind of thing. que didn't believe in money. que wanted to abolish money. yet here que stood, in some shady motel parking lot, clutching those little bits of paper like ques life depended on it.
ancapistan wasn't where que wanted to be, but it was the only place que could go. que needed to get as far away from tankie as que could. que couldn't go back there. tankie wanted quem dead. que couldn't go to nazi, que would be killed on sight for being a degenerate. not that que wanted to even if que could. nazi and tankie had both been insensitive at best, and downright violent at worst when it came to ques gender identity. ancap had been the only one to defend quem. ancapistan was the only place que had left to go. and while the capitalism all around quem made quem sick to ques stomach, at least it wasn't statist. que and ancap had their anarchy as a uniting force. but que still hadn't seen ancap around anywhere. eight months and que had no idea where he could be. which que wasn't too surprised about, if que had to be honest. ancap was a rich man. he wouldn't hang around the shady places that ancom was stuck with. not that que hadn't tried, oh no. que had tried to make ques way to the more fancy neighborhoods to go looking for him, but que quickly learned that everything was a minefield and que couldn't go anywhere without being told to get off someone's property with a gun to ques head. so que eventually stopped trying to look for him, and was trying to accept ques fate as a cheap homeless hooker desperate enough to do anything for ques next hit. constantly touching money and being driven by money made quem feel grosser than any sexual encounter que had, though. it felt immoral, like a violation of everything que stood for. and here que was engaging in what que hated most just to keep withdrawals away. though, que would be lying if que said the guilt of it all didn't make the heroin an even sweeter escape. que wouldn't have to bother with knowing who que was, for a while, at least. letting the world melt around quem made it easier to ignore the fear that que as an ideology wasn't meant to last. that que was losing quemself.
after a good five minutes of staring blankly ahead into nothing, just the cars driving by, que went to find a gas station. que just needed a bathroom. public bathrooms were nasty, but que didn't get to be picky. a quick glance in the mirror confirmed everything que didn't want to see. namely, quemself. que hated ques reflection these days. though, really the damage started back with tankie. ques hair was a mess. skin pale, accented with dark shadows. que was thinner than que had been in a long time. ques eyes were dead. that playful spark que always used to have was gone. for a brief second, que wondered if tankie had noticed that too. if that was why tankie had stopped being so warm to quem. for a second que wanted to tell quemself that was it. that it was ques fault that tankie turned on quem. that que deserved it. why should tankie care about some drug addicted tranny with nothing to live for? for a cheap hooker whose only selling point was looking like a boy but having a pussy. que counted quemself lucky for getting the most of ques transition done while with tankie. que had had top surgery, and a full hysterectomy. que had been on testosterone for years now. keeping up with ques hrt was a problem these days, though. que couldn't get healthcare in ancapistan. que didn't have that kind of money. but fortunately for quem, for the right price que could get almost anything if que knew who to ask. so diy it was for quem.
ques train of thought was lost when someone else walked into the bathrooms. que ripped ques eyes away from the mirror to finally get ques thoughts collected. then que left for some air.
some air and a cigarette. tankie would have hated quem if he'd seen quem now. everything he couldn't stand about quem had gotten so much worse. tankie. que wanted to slap quemself. why couldn't que just forget about tankie? que knew tankie had been nothing but bad for quem. que knew he wanted quem dead. and even though just that thought had quem shaking uncontrollably, there was a part of quem that wanted him back. que didn't understand why. que didn't want to want him back, but que did.
sometime during ques thoughts, que must have started walking. cause by the time que snapped out of it, que was long gone from the gas station. though, not that that mattered. there was another one of the same brand just across the street. que didn't want to think anymore. not when tankie was the only thing on ques mind. even after what he did, after what he called quem, after what he tried to do, he was still on ques mind. even 8 months later. so, que figured, it was time to use that money.
an hour later que was back on the street, trying to think of somewhere to shoot up. que had made a mental note of all the different places que was banned from, and by now the game was figuring out somewhere that wasn't on that list. most places charged to use the bathroom. except that one gas station que had been to earlier. granted, que figured, that was likely just the employees not caring enough to make people pay for it. besides, it was too far away for quem now. que needed somewhere close cause que needed it now.
as ancom's mind was being overworked, que had stopped paying attention to ques surroundings. and before que knew it-
"hey, watch it, junkie! you're gonna make my suit dirty! i just bought this!"
que had bumped into someone. and something was familiar about that voice.
"... ancap?" que spoke, weakly. their voice was even more tired and worn than it used to be. que thought it might be trembling.
the name seemed to ring a bell in the man's mind, as he looked at quem a little closer. que watched as he lowered his sunglasses, and his expression took a different shape. que could see the surprise in his eyes. and the concern.
"ancom? is that you?"
que nodded.
"yeah, i've been looking for you."
"what are you doing in ancapistan? weren't you and tankie leading a revolution?" the question seemed to be in good faith, but even then it hurt more to hear the man's name than to think it. ancap seemed to notice how que physically flinched at the mention of tankie.
"it's... complicated. hey, could i stay with you for the night? i'm sorry if that's a lot to ask. i- i can pay for a room or something!"
ancap lowered his sunglasses again. was ancom really saying que would pay him? ancom, the person who had managed to dodge and make excuses every time he would try to make quem pay rent during the centricide? the same ancom who he'd lived with for months during said centricide, and who never once paid for anything in all that time? it didn't seem right. he took a better look at quem. thin, pale, worn. it was painful to look at. this wasn't the ancom he knew.
"what happened to you?" was all that escaped him. his tone was soft. so soft that que could feel the concern. an uncommon emotion to get from ancap, que realised. but que didn't answer, and ancap didn't speak either. he just placed an arm around ancom's shoulders, noticing how que flinched away at the motion, and started leading quem back to his home. lord knows que needs it. whatever had happened during that revolution, ancap thought, it must not have ended well for his anarchists brethren. and certainly not for his favourite ancom.