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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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.}

[falseblack]

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.

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There was something cooling within him. A quiet settling of emotions. Everything was becoming simple, perhaps in a flawed way. It shouldn't be simple, but his mind had moved too far. Was too exhausted deep in his soul. So it didn't matter. Did it? No. It didn't matter. "You, too," he intoned. "You didn't hurt me like that. But you almost did, didn't you? You almost let him kill you. Don't you understand?"

Understand. Understand what? Oh. Yes. That pain. It had moved from him, dulled. "It's the same. I can't bear to lose you either. That night..." That night. Which night. There were so many. That night. "I was scared. You didn't fight back. You just let... If you died...."

He felt sick again. He didn't know why. He was shivering suddenly, uncontrollably. He wasn't cold, was he? So why?

--Because he had believed he had almost lost Nigredo. In the same hours he realized he loved him. The irony was too precise to be anything but fitting. It was horrible, and he shook harder without knowing.

[falseblack]

Ah. That night. The memory was enough to prompt blood to flow. For a moment, Nigredo saw clarity like it never existed before, and for all his faulty reasoning, he could understand. How that had hurt Albedo. Why the response afterward had proved so damning. The variant, however, could not apologize. They were passed such sentiments now, and words couldn't change what had occurred.

Once again, his chest cavity tightened. And again, his mouth formed the words. "I fought back," he started dryly, "at first. I never liked him. He was..." Too much like a reminder. "I stopped at some point. I couldn't; I don't know why. I gave up." Before he even tried.

That apathy, the one that scared him. It had come out of nowhere, but Nigredo knew now. Its origins were rooted in what was mentioned previously. What Rubedo had said. What Nigredo had recalled. He continued, "But then he asked..." {Is there any way you want to die?} "...and I knew. No one was there to say otherwise."

That's why...

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A response. Did he have any? He didn't believe so. What to say to any of this? Should he fight the words? Deny what had already transpired? He was not as weak as that. Albedo had spoke to share, to be understood. And possibly, Nigredo had done the same. Albedo couldn't tell him, in the ways that mattered, that he had thought of him that night in details, came to conclusions. It was petty in retrospect, meaningless. There was no point to it. Why speak of something nice to look at when there's but blood at your feet?

This passed in bits and pieces in his mind, and he nodded slowly. He was cold again. Things had frozen again. The back and forth would make him ill if nothing else. "And now?" he wondered curiously. "Will you fight back now?"

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Would he? In honesty, Nigredo hadn't truly contemplated the possibilities within the question. He had made attempts at a defense the subsequent nights, but he would admit to faltering for varying reasons. For his brother's sake, however, the boy considered it. Would he fight back should Sync attempt again? Would he allow the same incident to occur a second time? For the breaks to occur and another death wish to settle?

Within this context, the answer was clear. There were things he could no longer accept--for his own determination if nothing else. "He'll die," he said, almost in a matter-of-fact tone, "before that happens again."

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There was something to be pleased in this, and Albedo thrummed in his throat, quietly, like a content cat. "Good answer," he gave on habit, then rethought, tipping his head into Nigredo's shoulder without realizing. He wouldn't ask if it was possible. Nigredo would not state that clearly if it wasn't. Albedo stayed silent, then glanced up. "So I don't have to be scared then?"

Perhaps it was half-manipulation, but he wasn't aware enough to see it as such. It existed as a fact, spoken more clearly then he would have under sedation's serum. His gaze moved to the ground once more. If he didn't have to be scared... That meant things were settled. Things had been settled before. He had thought at least. He had made decisions to that end. "You're better than me, then, aren't you?" And why was that? What separated them on this subject? "My answer to the threat of both your deaths was to die myself. But I couldn't die. So what was I to do."

The words existed as a story, the question moved as a statement. The pause only for his audience to be engrossed. He did all this without thinking, brain shutting down and habits shifting forward.