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It's been staring at him for a week.
All of this still doesn't feel quite real, even with the funerals happening earlier in the week. Two, because Robert couldn't go to the Mechaman Astral one without immediately blowing his cover. Part of him didn't want to go to either of them anyways, but now that he's been stuck home for the week he feels like he should've managed to sneak into Astral's funeral anyways.
The private one wasn't even less uncomfortable for him than the public one on TV. All he could feel through most of the whole affair, other than the surprising lack of a proper reaction, was of all of the eyes on him. All of the Brave Brigade, their stares seeping into his very soul.
He had accidentally locked eyes with Chase while they were all saying their goodbyes and he had caught up to him during his attempt to leave. The look in them caused the most emotion in Robert since he got the phone call. There was so much regret in there; the overwhelming feeling that he had needed to do better, to do more, transferred from Chase to him, helped by how common of a mantra that was to him.
A broken sound leaves Robert, only semi-passing as a short chuckle. He's sure it's in his own eyes now, too, after he's spent so much time on the floor of the garage. The tint of blue from the suit's metal practically burned itself behind his eyes by now, along with the urge to purposefully trigger the defense mechanism again. It'd be fitting, he supposes; that way he dies both because of the suit and a bullet, doing his father and his father before him proud. It's not like Chase was here to save him this time.
He might be, though.
Robert's well aware of the noises he's been hearing from the house: the noise of Chase knocking, letting himself in, calling out his name, begging for him to come back. He had his phone silenced before he let it die on purpose, almost all of the notifications being from Chase calling him. Last time he checked, at least, which had been on the ride back from the funeral by a chauffer he never caught the name of.
He raises up onto his elbows, accompanied by a few grunts that came from his refusal to move for the past however long that make him feel double his age. His eyes sweep over the suit again, absentmindedly chewing on the inside of his mouth.
Astral would've expected him out on the streets now, taking less than a day to get himself together before debuting as the next Mechaman. He doesn't even have his permit yet, barely not old enough to even consider it.
Can he even get inside the suit? He hasn't tried yet. For all his thoughts about triggering the security system, Robert's been too scared to get close to it again out of the fear of it actually happening. He supposes now it wouldn't hurt to try: it gets him off the floor, he gets to cling onto what was left of his dad, and he either gets to think about getting out there and flying over LA or he does trigger the systems and then he doesn't have to worry about it anymore.
His movement's sluggish as he crosses the garage, a little lightheaded when he gets up faster than his body expects to. He blames it on him getting behind on his training— the training he switched to being home schooled to take part in, admittedly stunting his education on anything but the mechanics behind fighting and the suit itself— rather than how he hasn't ate anything but the spare Twinkies remaining in the pantry that Chase gave him after the funeral. He had wanted to leave before anyone could speak to him, but that's what he gets for thinking he could outrun Track Star.
He's practically toe-to-toe with the suit by the time that thought stops swirling in his head, replaced by it settling in just how big it was in relation to him. Robert gulps, eyes sweeping over the metal all while doing his best to ignore how it feels like his heart wants to escape his ribcage. He blames how short of breath he feels once again on how he's been slacking on moving lately, ignoring the hitch that wants to wedge its way into his breath that was turning rapid against his will.
It's a little fuzzy now, from a mix of brain fog and it being a few years ago, but Robert distantly remembers Astra— his dad showing him how to get into the mech, in part because it was information he actually needed, as well as it being an effort to reduce his fear of the suit after he twisted his arm and got a notch in his ear. It won't work quite the same, considering he doesn't really have the means of getting the mech to kneel to make it easier, but that can be a project for him after he gets out of… whatever it is his brain's doing to him.
Finding a way up was a little more awkward than Robert expected it to be, especially since Astral had left it in an idle pose as opposed to crouched down like he has been recently. He had explained it to Robert that he was leaving it like that so Robert could try out getting in and out of the mech if he wished, as long as he didn't touch any of the controls.
He sighs out through his teeth, shaking out his hands as if that'd stop the mild tremor to them before he starts pulling his planned bullshit; he finds himself thankful he hasn't even had the brain to take his sneakers off, using them to catch onto the edge of the knees, hauling himself up and quickly pressing the emergency button on the outside to open the hull— hidden on the underside of a plate that barely stuck out from the frame. The hiss of the machine moving settles over him, biting the inside of his mouth again over the thought that he needs to get used to that noise— or at least fix whatever's making it be that loud.
He's launching himself inside as soon as the opening's big enough for him to scramble through, not thinking about how he'd land until he accidentally slams his head against the seat, flinching and quickly turning around so he's sitting proper enough. He quickly tucks his knees close to his chest, hugging them closer out of paranoia of accidentally hitting any of the various buttons, switches, or screens. His nose hurts. Surely Astr— his dad didn't make the chair too rough, chalking it up to it being his own fault for launching himself in face-first without double checking how he'd land. That's what Dad would've said, at least, nevermind that he didn't actually have a good foothold on the suit in the first place, meaning he'd have to hurry if he didn't want to burst his head open on the garage's concrete.
Now that Robert's staring at it, he doesn't actually know what he expected the inside of the suit to look like. It's a lot more screens than he expected, with only a few buttons spotted around, along with a keyboard. His eyes flick above him, eyeing the little bar segmented in the ceiling of the mech. It's the one thing about the inside that his dad made sure he knew about; that he pulls it down in order to access where the Pulse would go.
Oh fuck. The Pulse.
The panic that had been sitting under his skin this entire time fully rises to the surface as he stares at the bar. Astral never told him where he kept it at, to further stop Robert from doing some reckless shit with the mech. It could be fucking anywhere. What if it was somehow still on his body? Is he gonna have to dig up his grave to find it? Robert doesn't think he can look at his dad again, nevermind that grave digging isn't exactly a legal thing to do. Especially when it involves a definitely-not-superhero.
Oh, wait. He can say that without being told not to now.
"Fuck," Robert mutters under his breath. It feels… odd. He was always under the impression swearing felt good or something, and that's why Chase did it so often and why Ast— Dad only did it when he thought Robert wasn't listening.
Maybe he'll get used to it. There's no one to scold him about it now.
Back to panicking after that mini-revelation, Robert's eyes scan the area inside the cockpit of the suit for anything glowing blue. He even unfolds himself slightly as he searched, adjusting to sit on his legs so he'd be able to hold onto the armrests as well as he could with his shaking hands.
It takes him an embarrassing amount of time to think to check where the damn bar was. Robert holds his breath for a moment at an attempt to get himself to calm down before he reached up for it. He's not quite tall enough to reach it comfortably, and it takes a lot more force than he expects it to, but he yanks down on the bar until it opens. He's a little scared to look at the compartment in the off-chance it isn't there, but he's comforted rather quickly by the faint blue glow that greets him when its pulled down.
Robert stares in confusion, gaze flicking between the Pulse and the rest of the inside of the mech. Why wasn't it on when he got in, then? Is this not the Pulse?
He shoves the compartment back up into the mech's ceiling as his eyes grazed the surrounding area again, accompanied by a pinch in his brow. Robert thinks back over on how Astral had taught him to turn the suit on again. It's only then that he remembers turning it is involved somehow, so he tries to twist it now that it's in place, and—
One by one, the screens around Robert light up at a rapid pace that does not startle him. There's a bunch of interfaces in front of him, the one in front of him scrolling through a list of what Robert has to assume are suggested patrol areas, while another that catches his eye is an outline of the suit pointing out where there might be things that need repairs. It's a lot.
He's gonna have to get used to this. He hates how he doesn't want to right now, maybe for forever.
His breath's hitching again. Robert lets go of the bar after realizing he still hadn't let go of it, moving to cover his mouth out of habit. He doesn't realize he's shaking, though, shifting how he sat so he could curl back up in the chair. If he makes himself small enough then maybe his brain would shut the fuck up and stop him from sobbing.
It's the closest he'll be to his dad ever again. Why didn't he try to hang out with him more? The only recent contact they've had was just for his training, when Dad had told him to just do it on his own since he had to go meet with some of the Brave Brigade. Apart from Robert watching him get lowered into the ground, at least. Realizing that only makes it worse, chest hurting from hyperventilating so much.
Robert remains like that for far too long, shivering and crying so much that he's sure Astr— Dad wouldn't approve of it. It makes it worse to think about that, though, so he does his best to just zone out until his body's done.
When he's much more tired, he finally peers out from where he had buried his head on his knees— when did he do that? He doesn't remember doing that— eyes still cloudy with stubborn tears looking over all of the screens in front of him again. He blindly reaches up for the bar again, twisting it so the Pulse remains inside while the mech turns off. Robert watches all of the screens dim, letting out a shuddering breath when they're all off.
It's dark in the mech without it powered on, helped by how the hull had shut on its own at some point— when he turned the mech on, maybe? How did he not notice that, either? He must be more out of it than he remembered.
He'll figure out why later, he guesses. He's just so tired. He doesn't get why, either; he's been sleeping most of the days away, doing nothing but laying on the floor of the garage and occasionally visiting the house to take care of himself.
Robert leans back in the mech's chair, a sigh leaving him as he did his best to get comfortable. He's too tired to get out. He figures a chair's better than the floor anyways.
He lets out another sound that might count as a laugh as his eyes close. His first time in the suit and he doesn't want to get out of it right now, choosing to instead let himself get dragged into sleep as tears still continued to roll down his face.
Maybe he'll make Dad proud after all.