Night 53: Solitary Room 1

[purpletaint]

{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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[purpletaint]

Isn't it the same?

There was nothing similar in the words. Albedo had no place there, and if he died, then finally, when they eventually did, they would all be reunited. Wasn't it the same? How could it be the same? He would wish his own deaths, not theirs, despite past actions. "It's not the same at all," he answered. "I want you to live."

A generic you, the term general. His mind couldn't place Rubedo, couldn't decide yet if a punishment of death was enough, or should it be drawn-out, or if he should beg on bended knee for affection, or just walk away, like he was told once, and live his own life without thinking of his twin. The last was pure folly, absolute lies, and whatever way there was before him, Albedo wasn't thinking about it.

And yet Nigredo spoke again. The same? The same as... Being unable to exist without the other? The fact of that night being spoken about was enough to pull Albedo's attention forward, but Nigredo allowed no point of interruption and continued further.

Was it fact? Truth to be told? It's the same, Nigredo had said--I can't be without you. There was something warm moving within Albedo despite the loss still flowing through him, and he made an effort to straighten, move, shift beneath his brother's hand to reach an arm up to touch the fingers in his hair--run them down the arm to the face not too far. Fingertips graced skin. Warm. Alive. This is what that meant. "Because..." There was a pause, some motion like a half-hearted shrug. "We are only ourselves."

{But if you can't be without me...} Albedo continued in another form. There was a question behind this, a wary caution. It was too difficult to believe that something ended up being exactly as you had wanted. {If it's the same.} What did that mean? How to move to clarify correctly. How to understand if it meant the same as what he felt. Albedo didn't know how to move with this, and it was shown expertly in an allowed confusion. "Do you love me, Nigredo?"

[falseblack]

Denial formed on automatic, and instantly, he felt ashamed. Differences always registered as poignant in the child's observations, enough to overwhelm promises. Therefore, it was easier to say he still wanted to die than accept Albedo's want for his life. Therefore, he kept quiet, pushing the thoughts to the furthest corner of his mind. Like a grudging acceptance. It marked progress and stagnation all at once.

But Albedo shifted, hand and words touching on memories Nigredo held of the twins in the past. Back before the Conflict, before their special patient, when they were closer to each other in blood and bonds while their youngest lived in contentment-- When everything seemed unchanging in the world. The pain in his chest blossomed, and the child shuddered at the beginning signs of a migraine.

This place made it difficult to send through the link, he remembered. He should have saved the effort; he still had an answer to give, and now, his voice was utterly useless for no reason at all. There was a long stretch of silence, green eyes now finding the floor.

Finally, Nigredo nodded slowly, as if confessing a sin. As if his answer wouldn't make sense. {I have always...} He swallowed, the taste in his mouth turning bitter. Thought finishing on the obvious. ...loved you.