Night 53: Solitary Room 1

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{Rubedo might come back.}

That was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? Words said at the break of day, tinged with irony and dramatics. And what had happened that next day? What had accumulated from knowledge and belief

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For all his emotions, Albedo could call inhuman features to him in a moment--used lately to torment Klavier, to remind one of things different from the reality that was known. For all his emotions, Albedo could go surprisingly blank, a fearful expression devoid of all life. He did that now, for reasons opposite than what was normal. Instead of a monster sizing up prey, his mind had blanked to incomprehension. His effort had been made in reciting questions by rote--to have them unanswered took a moment to understand. That Nigredo had slipped the question. Shifted the subject despite the verity of his claims.

No small part of Albedo wanted to clutch Nigredo's arm tighter, demand answers until he got them, but there existed a line not to be crossed consciously. And that was funny, wasn't it? That even now, even at this point with frayed ends and bitten pieces of a mind left, with a warm hum vibrating within his stomach, Albedo still recalled this and held it as something important. And that he wanted his brother to take back his feeling that night--the impression of Nigredo not caring whether Albedo did anything. That Albedo might do something. Was likely to. He hadn't, had he? Despite the initial intent, he hadn't, and had stopped when Nigredo spoke. And with this sibling, did it amount to nothing?

The small muscles in his hand contracted, tiny vibrations echoing through him. He giggled suddenly, the sound bitter even for him. He released his brother, just as sudden, then moved his hand to detach Nigredo's arm from his. That arm, one that had not been tortured and broken, he kept to--wrapped his fingers securely around the forearm. He chuckled once, staring at the darkened ground. He was humming without realizing.

"You can't always just get away from it," he intoned, vocal cords still rough from disuse but still rising in soon-to-be familiar patterns. "You can't always ignore the things in front of you."

He stopped suddenly, glanced back up with an almost lost expression. His voice again evened. "I don't want to hurt you, Nigredo." His mouth moved as if to say more. To explain. To entice to conversation as to not pull ire without wanting. But no more came. He gave his brother a helpless look, humming low in his throat all the while.

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A wise child would have called for the pragmatic. Should have promised to return to the topic (no matter how sullied, repulsive, or tainted the discussion carried itself) once he could get a fix on their current situation. He had come here without explanation, seemingly without any method, and everything remained clouded. It wasn't like the other night: Nigredo did not even touch a door, and yet, he arrived in the very room that held his brother. And he hadn't a clue as to where this room was within the vicinity of the institute.

Again, everything was clouded.

The wiser child, however, watched Albedo. Watched as he released the invasive hand to clasp the other arm, even as Nigredo moved to let himself go. Rather than reject the turn of phrases, he allowed them to absorb his thoughts and to seep into his memory. Like he never would have only days prior.

It wasn't the way Albedo moved or the way his brother talked that convinced him. It wasn't that Albedo was correct--though admittedly, he was. It was a shifting comprehension, and the variant understood more than before. Their deeper wants were important now, more so than the reasons for sedation. Much more than the proximity of rooms.

There was something like a shadow to thank for this, and he remained rooted beneath him.

Against his deepest inhibitions, Nigredo stepped closer--close enough for their breaths to overlap. Here, the absent expression sparked to life, and he offered his brother a pained countenance. "Do you remember the day in the showers?" The day after Nigredo died. The significance should not be lost. "I asked you why you were so miserable. What I was doing wrong."

He swallowed, the act revealing an unconscious strain. "You said-- You said you didn't want me to leave. That you didn't want to be alone." And... "You lose everything, even the things you choose." Nigredo stopped abruptly, as if to cut himself off.

"But why?" he began again. "Why do I want to die?"

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Did he remember?

Of course, he did. He remembered perfectly, as he hadn't the night that came before that. Albedo remembered in details Nigredo crying in his arms. It was a kind of reality broken--one brother he wouldn't have thought to cry doing it to extremes, and maybe then was when Albedo realized that Nigredo truly had holes within him. Much like himself. Too close to himself.

And even with this, the memory had become flawed. Because Albedo had been selfless in that moment, hadn't he? Had been so exquisitely out of character because his brother mattered. He had comforted without pushing or prodding, and it spoke of the starts of a series of attempts to be carefully close.

All of which, had seemingly been rejected. The memory was now flawed because Albedo knew that Nigredo would reject him. Even as Albedo clung to him, fingers fast around his forearm; he understood that the touch was probably unwanted.

There laid something like bitterness, something more clear as a pang of sharp hurt he couldn't conceal.

But that was pointless now, wasn't it? He understood all of this, as well as he understood that he would remain alone. His mind clouded, questioned why there was effort in this interaction, questioned why he didn't bash his head against the floor and end all of this, why he didn't murder both his brothers and give in to a sweet synchronicity, why he didn't--

Albedo listened to Nigredo. Quietly watched him like a child as his brother spoke, and Albedo trembled. There was a question asked, something like truth behind it, and Albedo didn't want to answer. "Because..." The effort was made without a choice being made. His voice sounded strained even to his own ears. "You don't believe you have anything to live for."

Close to the same, in essence. Too far from each other to clearly touch.

[falseblack]

The words he had thought fit to use hurt his brother, the resulting pain an echo of his own. And instead of denial or colored glasses that distorted, Nigredo saw without filters. He observed it for what it was: hurt that came from an unwarranted subject. It did hurt Albedo somehow to talk about letting go, and rather than wondering why, he forced himself to understand. Like he never would the other night.

Thus, he responded differently. Nigredo didn't fill the air with needless apologies, even when the cause originated with himself. Instead, he reached out with his injured hand and touched Albedo's sleeve. For emphasis or peace--or perhaps both.

He was tired of not knowing.

"Albedo..." Nigredo smiled wearily, the gesture surprisingly less false than previous times. "It isn't because of you. I don't feel this way because of you." An excuse. It was a very convoluted excuse, but the potential hurt that Albedo held was never the beginning.

The smile remained, though its edges frayed in the effort. "As long as Rubedo knows what I am," he continued, "as long as I remember what he told me..." Nothing would change. He would forever wonder on motives and meaning and never move from an impasse. And all of this, including the aforementioned conversation and its finest details, he passed along the link.

There existed something in his reasons, something this brother would understand. Because outside of U-DO's taint and their own individual prejudices, Albedo wouldn't set it aside as nothing. So voice and expression dropped, and Nigredo looked at his brother's chest through half-lidded eyes. "I don't want to remember," the child admitted. "Every time I remember, I just--"

{--want to disappear.}

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Nigredo was faulty in his thinking. Albedo had not presumed he was the cause at all. That spoke of importance, of meaning to another, and much like Nigredo himself, Albedo did not believe any of that--that his existence gave weight to another's soul. They were pretty words, ribbons and bows, but they touched nothing within himself. Was it that Nigredo was fooling himself, or could he not know? That even now, Albedo assumed that his brother saw him as a nuisance. Wasn't that why he came? (How had he got here?) To look over Albedo so he didn't cause any trouble?

For a moment, the expression was clear on Albedo's face, more human than he'd been in the night, and then he glanced down, stared at the floor as to not call all of this unfair right now. Everything was. Nigredo touching him when he probably didn't want to. The fact that Albedo had thought he understood his brother, but Nigredo still didn't want a part of Albedo. That Rubedo had broken Nigredo as clearly as he had Albedo, without a thought or care to the consequences. That that man had started all this, planned half of it at least, with nothing but smugness to its outcome. They were human! In a way Albedo would never admit to. They were brothers. And that man had forced them into opposing sides. He felt sick. Hostilely, violently sick, and if he hadn't ate in the past day, he might have shown a repeat of the last night they spent together.

So he spoke. In ways he shouldn't. Touching subjects not allowed any longer. "Why are you still doing everything he wants?" Albedo looked back at his brother, then, face full of frustration and pain. "He made us for this. To be set against each other. To break from each other. But you killed him, didn't you?! So it's over, isn't it?! Stop letting that determine everything! It's fine now!" Albedo was lost. He didn't know what to say. He shook his head, upset at himself. "If you don't want to remember, just forget! Forget, Nigredo!"

Something coiled within himself, dark and deep. His waveform stretched upwards, touching where he hadn't wanted to. {Let it be buried.} Like everything else. Laid to rest. Emotions that couldn't be accepted. Fate and endings that couldn't be touched. Absences that would never be fulfilled. Bury everything. Everything that made it hard to breathe. Everything that couldn't be let go.

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Silence cut through the air like a blade, with Nigredo rapidly losing words. It wasn't that he did not understand the logic or that he could not see the source of his brother's outburst. Nigredo could be shortsighted at times, but here, he wasn't going to be stupid and say none of it was true. That should have been the end of it, should it not?

But it wasn't. Even without the little drama between them, things were deteriorating and ironically, for the very same reason spoken by Albedo. There was a third here they couldn't reconcile, and that one could never be trusted to do otherwise. Yes, that was correct. He couldn't trust Rubedo, not as long as the years mismatched. How disgustingly tragic that it had to come to that.

The quiet expression wiped away from the younger's face, to be replaced by an emotion similar to anger. "It's fine now," he repeated lightly, as if calling to its faulty nature. "Is that a joke? Do you honestly believe that I can forget it so casually?" He swallowed, lips thinning to a line at the thought. To burst open in fury. "Don't talk about forgetting when you can't even do the same. Rubedo kills you, Albedo! He undoes everything I worked to prevent! And am I supposed to let that go!?"

{Am I supposed to accept it?}

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Anger. Emotion. Had Albedo been more whole, more tainted, he would have appreciated it. Been more detached from the situation, would have adored it. He strove for reactions, reveled in them when they came, and at this point with this other, his depression only increased. There was nothing wanted in this. He had wanted to soothe, not stroke fires. He was not good with this kind of situation, as was so obviously pointed out. He did not understand.

Something moved in the back of his head, an answer to the swell of sorrow, but he didn't move to part his lips and allow it. Instead he quieted, gave no kindling to be burned in this. His temper wasn't for this brother. And it wasn't as if Nigredo was attacking him. No. Just throwing words in a jumble. Some understood all too well, and some too confusing to be questioned. Undoes everything Nigredo prevented? Was there any sense in that?

Contrary to popular belief, Albedo was not simply a creature of emotion. He differed to logic as well--his own brand, largely, but it still remained. He was blinded by neither despair or hope--his sibling's emotions had shifted parts inside of him. Albedo remained quiet as his face evened, then closed his eyes. "So you're the Executioner," he stated blandly, nothing given in the tones.

"So Rubedo kills me. So he kills Citrine. So you killed that man. So I became tainted. So we fought and tried to kill one another. So we're fated to die amongst either other." The neutrality slid away in an instant, replaced by something untold. "So what?! I'm tired, Nigredo! I'm tired of all of this. We all hate each other; we all kill each other! And I don't care!" The emotion cleared to something like desperation. "I'm beginning not to care! Like when we first came here...."

When he was resolved to kill his siblings, despite the hope he still held. But he had given in to everything, given up on any chance of change. What was different now?

He had no hope. So why, indeed, was he still clinging to desperation? To want of something else.

"And then what?" He continued, voice calmer. "And then I go back to hating you both, go back to trying to kill you and planning how, spend my days here--" he threw out an arm at his surroundings "--and my nights stalking you both. I'm not stupid. I understand the ways that things can go. And it's pointless."

Whether he would hold to these words in the morning was a question, but they existed in the truth of the dark. U-DO had bled away, again again, he didn't know how, and here without its helpful urging, there only existed a weariness. He knew it. Knew it well. It had been conceived from the horror-filled looks of his siblings, formed from a resolution to push another to act. Yes, that, and even so... He just wanted to stop. Wanted everything to stop. Rubedo hated him. Albedo wanted to fall apart.

He blinked rapidly, some effort behind his gaze. The muscles in his jaw worked. "So yes. Let it go." There returned the aged pain. {I don't want to hurt you.}

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There existed a multitude of ways--a plethora of paths the youngest could take. With Albedo, with Rubedo, with everything about this place, he could take anything, leave everything, become what was wanted or unwanted. Fair or unfair, expected or not. His chest rose quietly to fall, and he thought about every word to spill and every move to make in that tiny room. There existed a multitude of ways.

And Nigredo wanted none of it. He wanted the bittersweet release that death could never offer, but nothing of his would allow the chance. He was too proud. He had nothing of the humility to permit it.

But another. He could borrow from another. As though to mirror the other in gestures, he held out his injured hand, his mind filling with memories of a girl. What had she said? "So who cares what happened?" he repeated. "Actions in the past don’t define the future." Right? Wasn't that correct? "It matters what happens now."

Nigredo exhaled slowly, releasing the tension laced in his muscles, replacing borrowed words for his own. {Then don't hurt me,} he sent quietly. "No words. No promises." {Just...surprise me.} Like how Albedo had before. He had done so before, and it wasn't as if nothing had changed between them. It had in some way, even if they had ended...here.

There was a pause, and he sighed, his breath sounding far away in his ears. "I'm still here. You haven't hurt me. So..." So. His voice became a whisper. "Let's start over, Albedo." Neither go back to a picturesque time or press forward without hope. Just begin anew.

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Actions in the past don't define the future. Unlike his brother, Albedo had not been told that, and if he had, he would have disagreed. It seemed too flighty an idea, too easily shook by reality's winds. The past doesn't define the future. But it did, didn't it? Everything that had happened had shifted them to where they were, and if he was to speak truth, the opposite was more correct, wasn't it? The future didn't define what was now. Because Nigredo was entirely correct in his next sentence. It matters what happens now.

And what was to happen now? His brother had continued, moving back and forth between speech and silent communication like he was trying to admit something unseen. And Albedo didn't disagree. He wouldn't hurt him. He had tried so hard not to hurt him, and if not hurting Nigredo was a surprise... Then Albedo would keep doing it until it was something familiar instead. Something without any thought. To where Nigredo could sleep by him and not waste a thought on defense, wanted or otherwise.

But starting over... Existed too much as something flawed. Albedo held too much to what had came before to wash a slate clean. And that was the entire point, wasn't it? That Albedo, just as Nigredo, couldn't allow to let things rest. That even as he declared all of the moments prior, could he say he was doing the same? Put Rubedo in front of him, and Albedo would cling to the fact of being abandoned and hated like a friend missed, and wind up back here without any effort. And why was that? Because Albedo hated Rubedo. Because he loved him enough to kill him. He had hated Nigredo as well. So why, when Nigredo was placed before him, did Albedo not only see the Executioner?

Because Nigredo loved him. Somewhere, sometimes hidden, but a fact still. Nigredo loved him, and Albedo could, if not forgive entirely, overlook the flaws that encompassed his little brother. Didn't he ask the same? For Nigredo to ignore the presence of what they were made to destroy? To forgive him for murder.

Albedo swallowed hard, releasing Nigredo's arm. He hadn't released he was still holding it. Then he sat down suddenly, knees curling to his chest as he wrapped his arms around them. "I don't hate you," he said quietly, simply. "I love you."

A finger pressed into his knee. "But I won't start over. Because I understand things. I understand you care about me. I understand that you don't want me to die like I don't want you to die. I understand that you're lonely... That you don't want to be alone. So I won't start over. Because I'm where I should be, right?" He lifted his head, genuinely questioning. As if he knew how relationships worked. "I've already buried what you were. I don't need to change regarding you."

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For a brief instance, Nigredo wondered if he had asked too much. Taking from another's philosophy risked variables unseen, and even as he uttered them, he knew parts could never be made truth. Senna was correct in spirit, but in the details, there existed parts they could never remove. Like Rubedo. Like habits and inhibitions and emotions that came when things were lost. Still, he held his breath and waited for an answer, a constriction in his chest tightening all the more.

Again, he wanted that release. To speak amicably with another, as if the bonds that had tied them together had never decayed. It had been a flaw to tell Albedo they couldn't go back, even if it was true. What chance that remained was now sealed, and what stood just beyond reach had become a focal point. Now, Nigredo had asked to start over, and that was as impossible as going back.

Yet, he couldn't change his feelings, and that bound something inside.

Then, Albedo moved. Nigredo's arm was released, forcing the younger to fix his sight on entirely his brother. When the latter spoke, his insides moved, and Nigredo... Nigredo couldn't be surprised. He had heard these impressions before--from bits and pieces of their previous interactions. The only difference right now was that he couldn't set them aside.

He knelt down in front of Albedo. His good hand moved through his brother's hair for no true reason. For confirmation. Nigredo wasn't certain. "Right," he said softly. "That's enough. You don't need to do anything else." That was enough. If Albedo took to that much, it was more than enough. "Thank you."

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There was something perfectly broken in Albedo, and for the first time, the boy clearly felt it. His insides felt like a bag full of glass, shifting against each other and cutting his insides. There had been something precious there once, he thought. A priceless vase, shiny and pristine. But it had been smashed. Somehow. Along the way, it had become smashed.

For the absolute first time in his life, Albedo saw everything perfectly clear. Everything that had happened. Everything he had done. Everything that had been done to him. To his siblings. To the select few called friends. And everything that had been ruined in the process. The thing called 'what could have been' had deteriorated as precisely as skin under acid, and everything that had been lost far outweighed what had been gained. He saw all this, and his fingers tightened on his knees, eyes clenching tight against everything that existed, because he didn't know what to do anymore and he didn't--

Nigredo touched him gently, and Albedo started crying without a word. He didn't want to be alone. His head shifted to press more into his brother's hand, a soft whimper coming from his throat.

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His brother was crying. One could admonish him in another time, but here, Nigredo said nothing. There wasn't anything to say, truthfully, because most everything was known. While Albedo cried, Nigredo calmed, emotions deadening to the point of impassivity. The constriction in his chest ceased movement. The child felt like he could breathe.

Or not quite. His fingers continued to move, and the useless arm at his side shifted as well. It wrapped around his brother's small form and--like a time before--held.

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Albedo made another small noise as his brother moved closer to him, wrapping an arm around him. It changed nothing, didn't it? Parts of him rebelled against everything, denied it all and said that nothing would change. This had been similar to other times, had it not? Things had ended in a peaceful way, a calm way, and in the morning, nothing had changed. Everything had changed! Wasn't that right? Wasn't this only temporary, and....

Thoughts trailed out of his head as Nigredo stroked his hair; slowly, his crying mostly stopped even as his eyes remained squinted closed. He cautiously reached out to touch Nigredo's chest, fingers gracing fabric. "I don't want you to... go away again." This touched on something he almost wouldn't say. It felt like dependence. It wavered as thin balance able to be toppled. It existed only as glass, one last piece to be broken.

[falseblack]

What do you say to such a plea when lies proved more pleasant than the truth? But then, what was his truth? If given the choice between oblivion and existence within a specific context, Nigredo would care for one over the other. When the context shifted, would his answer change as well? The boy glanced down, line of sight traversing over his sibling's white hair.

Once again, he would recall a want, the restraint in his chest beneath his brother's digits. His own words as well. No promises. No words. Just...surprise him. "I'm here," answered Nigredo, who then felt his voice crack in the admission. "I won't go away. I won't leave." Like he had times before. Like that night with the doors that led to nowhere.

He was letting things go. As asked, as never expected. Bit-by-bit, until everything he couldn't let go disappeared in his stead.

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His mind felt shattered still. He had put forth a solution, had it accepted, stated his understanding of his brother and was told that was enough--was given soft affection in face of his pain, was told all he wanted to hear in reply to his tears. He froze, muscles slacking entirely, body tipping to the side. Any strength he had drained from him. Not eating, living on sedatives, and now all of this, after everything allowed nothing to remain. His chest heaved slowly, the deep breaths of a dying animal.

But he wasn't dying, was he? His existence wasn't one to fade so easily. Despite wants, efforts, attempts.... He was half-laying on Nigredo at this point, reclining without the power to force himself upright. His voice was quiet. "I wanted to die, too, you know."

There was an absence of sound in the space after, as Albedo tried to force his mind to move. "Both of you would leave, and even when... When I... No matter what I did, it still hurt. I couldn't just. Be okay with it. But I couldn't just die, could I?" He gave a strangled laugh. "Not like here. It would have been too easy a few nights ago. To let those things continue eating me and be done with it. To take the shotgun in my closet and end it. It's possible now, right? But things aren't settled... with Rubedo. And I promised you. That I wouldn't leave you alone. That I wouldn't hurt you. And dying would hurt you, wouldn't it? I understand now...."

The rant trailed off into silence, his eyes unfocused to stare at the wall.

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Ice formed in his veins. The flesh on Nigredo's face drained of their color, and he could taste a sensation closest to chalk in his mouth. This reaction was strange, given what he knew. And he knew, just as Albedo did in regards to his own desires. It was not understood, but he knew that Albedo had wanted it. Beneath everything, ever since that day his regeneration had been revealed, Albedo had changed. Had grown obsessed with death.

And here, only a few days before this, Nigredo had learned. Albedo could die. So none of this was that surprising. Yet, it was. It pained to know his brother had thought to follow through because, yes, dying would have hurt him. Would have resulted in things better left outside his imagination. However...

He remained silent for a long time, fingers moving in slower intervals. "You didn't hurt me," he finally whispered. "You didn't leave me alone. So..." It was fine. As it was, it was fine. Even as everything inside came to a halt.