Ah, but the darling dear was effortlessly wrong, now wasn't he? Albedo giggled, laughter ricocheting, but seemed for the moment content to have Nigredo's hand on him, content to nuzzle into Nigredo's lap. "Loved me?" he asked, and sounded sincere in his wonderings, despite the edge of melodiousness starting to seep through. "He told me?" The surprise was feigned and obvious, as obvious as the fact that he did not hold to what Nigredo had said.
It seemed, then, that this would be how the night went. Albedo, of humor and touched by Song, ignoring his brother's meanings to instead hold to his points. A steady affection, underlined by a threat that wouldn't come, for-- Hadn't they played this game before?
They had. And because of that, Albedo would move differently.
Albedo had seemed sleepy and languid. Assuming this, however, would prove to be a mistake. Near inhumanly quick, the boy darted out his arm to grab a foot of the chair his brother was sitting in, yanking at an angle to dump its occupant in a crash to the floor. There was no hesitance to that act, and more, no hesitance to Albedo then near leaping upon Nigredo, knees around a waist and hands holding wrists. For a moment, Albedo stared down, and there was emptiness in his gaze.
Then he only shook his head, and looked down at Nigredo with something like understanding. "You can't be faulted for thinking that," he said, and his tone had normalized from the moments prior. "Especially here, in this place. But." But~ "I know something you don't know. Nigredo."
The link echoed the name, with pain behind it. {"Nigredo!"}
A memory shared. For Nigredo couldn't have know this. For Nigredo, in that time....
Had been dead.
The scene flashed through minds as it had been, after blood and gore, and instead to a sobbing redhead in a heap on the ground.
--"No, dammit!" It was Rubedo who shouted, angry and torn, even as a sob went through him, form sagging as if his strings had been cut. "Don't do this to me again! Don't..." Whatever had been about to be said went unfinished; another sob cutting him off. No further words came before that night ended, instead, only the perfect memory pressed into mind of Rubedo just sitting there and crying.
Over a love lost. Over a brother's death. Over Nigredo's missing waveform.
Over Nigredo. Because Rubedo loved him as well. That was the truth that held as well as any other.
It wasn't that he had taken to surface appearances. He had managed to learn something in the process of falling, of another's psyche scraping across an edge. One could say he merely lost the will for active resistance. Nigredo heard the laughter, the feigned echoes, and like clockwork, he steeled for a break. Passed into quiet resignation. Allowance would be given; he had nothing of wants in light of himself. His brother could act as he wished.
He dropped the journal as the chair moved, and Nigredo tumbled out with only elbows and forearms cushioning his fall. The impact was enough to send ripples through waveform, enough to cause a soft noise to spill from his lips. Hands clamped tightly to wrists while weight left him motionless on the ground; it was almost comical how trapped he found himself to be. Warmth blossomed against the right side of Nigredo's chest and the opposite shoulder, the scent of iron seeping in the air.
And yet, despite everything, he offered no counter. Gave nothing in defense. Albedo had his reasons, Nigredo supposed. He usually did. It was only proper, then, to practice patience. For a sibling to watch another and wait for the coming declaration.
To his surprise, what Albedo put forth was death.
He did not recognize the scene before him, the emotions playing out for his consumption. Here was Rubedo in a heap. In the chamber where he had betrayed more skills than were probable for a twelve-year-old bioweapon, he was weeping, likely for the sake of that bloody pile at his feet. Without doubt, if the raised voice offered any indication. This was a perfect memory--closest, really, to any held within the inky black--and how it carried through the link cemented its truth. No, Nigredo could not deny what was shown had been real.
Instead, the boy was allowed two facets formerly unknown. One, Rubedo had mourned his death, however temporary and conflicting it had been. This comforted something broken. This awakened a dwindling hope.
Two-- "Again, hm?" he murmured. "I'm to die again." Sooner than planned and likely young. Should he have ever been surprised?
What Nigredo spoke was enough to unfocus Albedo from his task set, to instead place importance on a vow Albedo had just internally given to himself. Both of them would live. And it mattered naught which future Rubedo had come from, which version of death he had seen. Lines were crossed, this was assured, and from that version, he had told of Nigredo dying with Yuriev, which that man, as stated, had been gunned down in a heap of protectiveness and pain. Albedo believed both, and as the saying went-- It was when the impossible was gone, that whatever was left, despite how improbable, remained what was true. Both spoke truth and yet could not--therefore, it was only correct to take that redhead's words as fact. Different versions, different realities, and here, again, Albedo would state that.
His hold relinquished on Nigredo's wrists; he dropped to his elbows, leaning forward, chin in his hands above Nigredo's face. "Wrong," the boy stated perfectly, as something in his stomach flipped. "That version did. You had many discrepancies from the version that Rubedo described--you are yourself and not that one, and your fate, therefore, is to live.
"Can I tell you a secret?" the boy asked without missing a beat, eyes childlike and open. The acquiesce was given, and he nodded to nothing, coming to terms with something inside of himself. There was a great deal shifting within Albedo, the majority due to the body beneath him, and that was something perfectly clear. It wasn't something that was cast as detrimental-- He was accepting it in the way of want, and wouldn't push it aside. It remained that, for Nigredo, Albedo would do a great many things. And that was only just now becoming clear.
"I do think ahead, you know," he said, and it seemed disjointed with the subject before. "I always have. There are patterns to things, and if you can see them, you can shift them, and I... have always seen them. So looking ahead, as it were, is habitual. Planning for things is natural. I have always--" He halted there, tongue sliding over his teeth in an unknown emotion. Yes, that was a true statement. He had always-- "...Planned ahead for things."
Only at this point did Albedo glance down at his brother; he settled where he was, keeping his upper body propped with his arms as he relaxed to lay on Nigredo with his lower body. He realized, idly, that he had stopped wondering if he'd be rejected somewhere along the line. "I want you to live. You personally, for me personally. Not because you're my brother or that I don't want us to be alone. But because I want you... to remain. The you that you are."
The boy smiled, it came slightly as self-deprecating. "...I want to see us grow up, Nigredo. I want to plan for that, too."
You are yourself. His fate, therefore, was to live. It was so opposite, so antithetical to the end he had prescribed to, particularly in light of the revelations put forth. A father's command, his role, the tearing of connections, that eternal loneliness. Perhaps a single element might have merely played at tendencies, but the combination of all proved to be his downfall. Thus, Nigredo assumed death came at the conclusion of each path treaded upon. For Nigredo had thought, had forseen solitude as his only companion, and therefore, he had buried his desires. Destroyed his wants in favor of resignation and an infant's dream. He hadn't thought to believe he would live. To believe that he should live for himself.
Still, Albedo would speak it. He would intone perfectly, grace close to a wish long since dead. Nigredo was wrong, hm? What were the discrepencies, then, that Rubedo had placed? He suddenly wondered on the length and breadth of knowledge involved. The other wouldn't press certainty unless he had a foundation. Albedo wouldn't unless--
He had a secret. Without wanting, blood rushed past Nigredo's ears, filling canals with the buzz of insects. And still, the boy gave agreement. He gave audience to Albedo and his reveal, which proved to be a little less than expectations. A little more to affects. Older brother thought for the future, and contrary to what had been claimed in that solitary cell, that lonely place, he planned to live. Contrary to that near slip in the bloody hall, he planned for Nigredo's life. And Nigredo--
Began to cry. Again, without wanting, but the child found it closer to relief than a burden. He pressed eyelids shut as tears fell across his cheeks; they fell from his eyes to collect in pools at the base of his head, clear and light and another word he could never quite verbalize. This sensation was unfamiliar, touching foreign in his mind, but he could place the reason for its presence. Somehow, Nigredo responded. Gave without pause.
For this was not his sadness in the open.
"For an instant," he choked out, "I had thought you would die. Since solitary. Or you would take my life. Since last night." He breathed in and caught the scent of blood. "If you hadn't remembered. If you hadn't come back." If you had discovered the reason for my birth-- "It would be better to want to die than wait to be rejected. Rubedo, too." It would be better to assume the worst than hope. The phrases were broken, intermingled with sobs, but there it lay.
However. "But that doesn't matter if you say that. If you'll have me, I'll stay where I am." Where they were. {I never want to disappear. I would be happy to live if you say that.}
Because in that instance, in that span of a minute, Nigredo thought he had heard acceptance. And why would he ever think to die if someone wished to keep him for him?
Nigredo wept. His brother cried and stammered out phrases, and Albedo only bore witness. This was a confession, and comforting, interrupting--would ruin that sanctity. This was a confession, Albedo thought, and all that was Nigredo became clear. His silent longing, his standoffish behavior. The opposite of Albedo. Albedo would cling in want, force himself onto another in fear of loss. And Nigredo.
Nigredo would let go. Back up and watch at a distance rather than face that risk of pain when a hand would let go. His little brother could not face the thought of that pain, and perhaps if Albedo wanted a source for that mentality, he need look no further than himself. For, surely, over the years, Albedo had been a good example of what pain was caused when one clung to another who would walk away.
And yet. Here. Here.
Here, Nigredo would move contrary to that. Here, he would promise commitment if Albedo only said the word. Nigredo would give himself to one that had, over a month ago, tried his utmost to kill him. Nigredo would give himself wholly to Albedo, who spoke devotion and affection to a child that had known nearly none. Nigredo would claim to never want to disappear, to remain, to stay, and Albedo would only exist in a continuous overwhelm. Nigredo was giving him what he desired. If he only accepted.
Albedo shifted again, slid his hands to either side of Nigredo's face and stared into his brother's eyes. "You won't be rejected," he said firmly. "You are wanted." Emotion skittered across Albedo's face. His voice dropped quieter. "I want you."
The boy kissed his brother's cheek. "I won't hurt you." The action repeated at a jawline. "I won't be killed." And at a chin. "I won't be reckless." At the corner of Nigredo's mouth. "I won't reject you." As light as butterfly wings, he graced his lips across his brother's. "I want you to stay."
{Nigredo.} Albedo tipped his head, pressed lips against like more firmly. {Stay with me.} I love you.
He would promise commitment and more. He would give the entirety of himself to a brother--whether he proved to be the death of Nigredo or otherwise, Nigredo would never care. He wouldn't mind as long as the other would promise only acceptance. Welcome his existence and want for him to continue. Again, why would he ever think to die if someone wished to keep him for him?
The words offered spoke of confirmation--the affections, an admission. He recalled many and could not remember ever receiving such kindness from anyone. It was tragic, almost, the touch of lips. Kisses could easily fall to waste if Nigredo held so much as one irredeemable quality. He knew this. More than anything, he would always expect it. Fear it. To be hated. For any number of reasons.
Because he was weaker than Albedo. Was as fragile as glass and sand. He would always doubt, therefore, of brothers and their love. To protect them, he would kill faith.
Conscience and cowardice are really the same things. However.
His mind was slipping away, cracked against a fracture. Green eyes spiraled into a haze, overflowed with tears, and carefully, he reached to grab Albedo's shirt. {Then I'll stay. I'll stay with you.} So don't. {Don't reject me. Don't hate me. I will give you anything you want, if you will let me.}
It was not as if he was given to indecision. Even as Nigredo sent things that had the possibly to damn him, the thought streaked only once through his mind and vanished-- That what Nigredo was saying could ruin him, placed in hands that would use it as they willed. He would have. Completely and utterly, given the chance prior. But now he would almost ignore it. Almost forget those words, I will give you anything you want. It was almost like pleading. Pressing. Nigredo was breaking and Albedo wondered at the source.
Wondered more how much Nigredo wanted this, if his mind couldn't handle the thought of it.
He pressed a light kiss to his brother then pulled back, stroking a hand through dark hair. "I said what I want," he murmured quietly. {I want you to remain as you are. I want you to stay with me, and live.}
Comfort was the strangest. It seemed near odd to offer it here, but it came as necessary. {Why would I reject you?} the boy sent affectionately, pressure at his temples. {I don't hate you at all.} His fingers maintained their path of petting through his brother's hair, and he kissed Nigredo's forehead softly. {I care about you. I do love you.}
Comfort was the strangest, and it broke the already fractured existence. It was necessary, a prerequisite to a transition, for the being that Nigredo was could not accept affections. As he was, he could not live on promises nor vows of devotion. They would slip away given time, fall beneath stagnation, and waste away into ink and shadow.
So Nigredo, as he was, had to change. Break and reform to accept the unknown. The kindest of these came in the form of comfort.
And his brother was beginning to understand its truth.
His arms moved. Without thinking, he wrapped them around the other boy, tight enough steady the flow of blood. {Then I'll live. As I am.} The only want he could give in the exchange. Perhaps, the most difficult want to uphold. {I won't leave you.} Nigredo made a whimper, sobs stifling under his tongue. His head sparked against the imposed limitations, and he knew tomorrow would enter as a migraine. The child, unfortunately, couldn't think of another method in speech. Touch and overwhelm rendered vocal chords useless, and Nigredo had much to convey.
Like thanks. Like gratitude. {I'm glad.} He choked on a cry. {I'm really glad.}
Nigredo's arms wrapped around Albedo, possibly more tightly than they ever had. With this, came a clearer form of need, again one that he knew, and while his brother clung beneath him, Albedo continued petting him, surprisingly calm for the circumstances at hand. Perhaps it was only the fact of sleep, solid and unavoidable after a point. Or a dream, or simply the fact of Nigredo in his arms. Here, laid care, nicely and pressingly clear, and despite the apparent misery, Albedo was near content.
Because Nigredo was glad. The link could not lie. "I'm glad, too," he said quietly. {I'm glad you're here.}
This came as a repeat, said before, but he didn't have the mind to place it. Instead focus shifted to a different point. He touched his forehead against Nigredo's to gain his attention. "Let's get off the floor, okay?" It couldn't be comfortable to be crushed under your brother. Despite the fact it was Albedo's fault. He held to the action. It was only but necessary at that point.
There was an immediate scramble for coherency the instant Albedo called to the environment. The fragments of Nigredo's mind melded together, the act hasty enough to leave the younger in a state of disarray. He finally realized that he was still on the floor, that his chest hurt beyond a magnitude considered normal. Care lingered between the two variants, but he could not piece together the sequence leading up to the development.
And he could not understand how he had managed to cry again.
The child stared with wide eyes at Albedo, to the ceiling over his brother's shoulder, and then back. "Um." He forced a sharp inhale before relinquishing his hold in increments. Yes, they would do well to get themselves off the floor. "Okay. Yeah."
...Nigredo was a mess, and half of Albedo found it adorably endearing. Don't get him wrong, there was concern, but his brother like this was wholly himself in the way of each reaction was perfectly seen, each move and motive came from a person with the weight of wants behind them. He knew that all, of course, but still. And it was not as if he would not be taking care of Nigredo. There was no need to be overly concerned.
Albedo detached himself carefully and backed off his brother, before standing and leaning down to pull Nigredo up with him. He brushed his brother off slightly, and went to pull him over to the bed. Partway there, he paused, looking at the desk. "Do you need that?" A murmured yes was given, and Albedo plucked it up and handed it over without delay. That done, he continued leading Nigredo the few feet to the bed. "Lay down, okay?" A child's please was infused in the tone. "Why'd you come to my room, anyway?"
He didn't know how he managed the strength to stand, nor how his skin had not sagged beneath the weight of gravity and his form had not crumbled in Albedo's arms. Yet, somehow, Nigredo moved lightly. Somehow, he didn't drag his feet when his sibling directed him to the bed and gave his assent to things without thinking twice. He curled into the sheets with Renamon's journal in tow, eyes considering his surroundings as if they had never existed prior.
When Albedo asked for the reason for his presence, Nigredo almost answered wrongly, to remember at the last minute. Why would he be here? He had come here for a specific reason than anything natural, right? Right. "I, uh," he started, staring at Albedo with some reservation, "I didn't want to stay in my room with, uh, him in there so... I'm sorry if I disturbed you." He swallowed audibly.
Nigredo curled into himself as he laid, and Albedo sat next to him fondly for a beat, hand on his brother's side. The air seemed almost gentle; something that was ruined utterly the moment Nigredo spoke. Instead the scenery chilled, Albedo's eyes briefly glazing over. An emotion that needed to halt the moment of its creation. So the boy held to what he had decided previously, and pushing Nigredo's arms slightly up, laid to curl against his brother--arms around Nigredo's hips and head against his stomach. He nuzzled into the soft flesh there, inhaling the scent.
"You didn't disturb me," came the first point. "I want you by me. Come whenever you like. Think of this room as yours, too." Though here came the second point, carefully said to sound as casual as the first. "Is he giving you trouble?"
Perhaps it was the cold tucked into the night air. Perhaps the fluctuations in mood and sanity had finally reached its peak. Nigredo felt warmth and reached for his brother's shoulder without reservation. He heard an open invitation and quietly murmured his thanks, allowing gratitude to seep from black to white. Nigredo was glad, truth be told. He was relieved beyond measure to have somewhere to go.
Then.
His mind tilted too far at the question, and the child recalled an older boy with the selfsame eyes. The wrongs he had committed. How the surface skins they wore were near indistinguishable to the naked eye. The temptation for murder flared within Nigredo, and without a whole mind, it was apparent to any and all. "Not lately," he muttered, frozen in his impulse. "But he should still die."
His brother's hand came against his shoulder, and it came as something natural, without hesitation. Albedo relaxed against Nigredo, cuddling in further as his brother gave his thanks. In response, Albedo gave care, comfort trailing along the edges.
Something that held fast despite the changes in mind.
Albedo hummed quietly in apparent serenity as he moved to trail a hand along Nigredo's thigh. There was hatred present, a clear hatred in the way of a longing for another's death. No messy wantings, no conflicted resolutions desired. Only a death, clear and simple. "Nigredo..." Albedo said lightly, pleasantly. An edge of adoration underneath. "Do you want him dead?
He moved in his desire, giving forthright attention to the proposal. Comfort and adoration furthered the line of logic, and Nigredo squeezed the cloth surrounding the other's form. When he pictured the futures before him, pressed them against the steady (immovable) duty to live, there existed only one end result. "Do you want him dead?"
Would he grant Albedo that chance?
"I wonder," he murmured. "I wonder if I just want him dead. Maybe." He closed his eyes, feeling calmer than his words implied. "Maybe I want to be the one to kill him."
He sighed and shuddered against his brother. "At any rate, I don't have the patience to hold out," concluded Nigredo. "I'll probably lose it one night." As he had for another.
It seemed, then, that this would be how the night went. Albedo, of humor and touched by Song, ignoring his brother's meanings to instead hold to his points. A steady affection, underlined by a threat that wouldn't come, for-- Hadn't they played this game before?
They had. And because of that, Albedo would move differently.
Albedo had seemed sleepy and languid. Assuming this, however, would prove to be a mistake. Near inhumanly quick, the boy darted out his arm to grab a foot of the chair his brother was sitting in, yanking at an angle to dump its occupant in a crash to the floor. There was no hesitance to that act, and more, no hesitance to Albedo then near leaping upon Nigredo, knees around a waist and hands holding wrists. For a moment, Albedo stared down, and there was emptiness in his gaze.
Then he only shook his head, and looked down at Nigredo with something like understanding. "You can't be faulted for thinking that," he said, and his tone had normalized from the moments prior. "Especially here, in this place. But." But~ "I know something you don't know. Nigredo."
The link echoed the name, with pain behind it. {"Nigredo!"}
A memory shared. For Nigredo couldn't have know this. For Nigredo, in that time....
Had been dead.
The scene flashed through minds as it had been, after blood and gore, and instead to a sobbing redhead in a heap on the ground.
--"No, dammit!" It was Rubedo who shouted, angry and torn, even as a sob went through him, form sagging as if his strings had been cut. "Don't do this to me again! Don't..." Whatever had been about to be said went unfinished; another sob cutting him off. No further words came before that night ended, instead, only the perfect memory pressed into mind of Rubedo just sitting there and crying.
Over a love lost. Over a brother's death. Over Nigredo's missing waveform.
Over Nigredo. Because Rubedo loved him as well. That was the truth that held as well as any other.
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He dropped the journal as the chair moved, and Nigredo tumbled out with only elbows and forearms cushioning his fall. The impact was enough to send ripples through waveform, enough to cause a soft noise to spill from his lips. Hands clamped tightly to wrists while weight left him motionless on the ground; it was almost comical how trapped he found himself to be. Warmth blossomed against the right side of Nigredo's chest and the opposite shoulder, the scent of iron seeping in the air.
And yet, despite everything, he offered no counter. Gave nothing in defense. Albedo had his reasons, Nigredo supposed. He usually did. It was only proper, then, to practice patience. For a sibling to watch another and wait for the coming declaration.
To his surprise, what Albedo put forth was death.
He did not recognize the scene before him, the emotions playing out for his consumption. Here was Rubedo in a heap. In the chamber where he had betrayed more skills than were probable for a twelve-year-old bioweapon, he was weeping, likely for the sake of that bloody pile at his feet. Without doubt, if the raised voice offered any indication. This was a perfect memory--closest, really, to any held within the inky black--and how it carried through the link cemented its truth. No, Nigredo could not deny what was shown had been real.
Instead, the boy was allowed two facets formerly unknown. One, Rubedo had mourned his death, however temporary and conflicting it had been. This comforted something broken. This awakened a dwindling hope.
Two-- "Again, hm?" he murmured. "I'm to die again." Sooner than planned and likely young. Should he have ever been surprised?
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His hold relinquished on Nigredo's wrists; he dropped to his elbows, leaning forward, chin in his hands above Nigredo's face. "Wrong," the boy stated perfectly, as something in his stomach flipped. "That version did. You had many discrepancies from the version that Rubedo described--you are yourself and not that one, and your fate, therefore, is to live.
"Can I tell you a secret?" the boy asked without missing a beat, eyes childlike and open. The acquiesce was given, and he nodded to nothing, coming to terms with something inside of himself. There was a great deal shifting within Albedo, the majority due to the body beneath him, and that was something perfectly clear. It wasn't something that was cast as detrimental-- He was accepting it in the way of want, and wouldn't push it aside. It remained that, for Nigredo, Albedo would do a great many things. And that was only just now becoming clear.
"I do think ahead, you know," he said, and it seemed disjointed with the subject before. "I always have. There are patterns to things, and if you can see them, you can shift them, and I... have always seen them. So looking ahead, as it were, is habitual. Planning for things is natural. I have always--" He halted there, tongue sliding over his teeth in an unknown emotion. Yes, that was a true statement. He had always-- "...Planned ahead for things."
Only at this point did Albedo glance down at his brother; he settled where he was, keeping his upper body propped with his arms as he relaxed to lay on Nigredo with his lower body. He realized, idly, that he had stopped wondering if he'd be rejected somewhere along the line. "I want you to live. You personally, for me personally. Not because you're my brother or that I don't want us to be alone. But because I want you... to remain. The you that you are."
The boy smiled, it came slightly as self-deprecating. "...I want to see us grow up, Nigredo. I want to plan for that, too."
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Still, Albedo would speak it. He would intone perfectly, grace close to a wish long since dead. Nigredo was wrong, hm? What were the discrepencies, then, that Rubedo had placed? He suddenly wondered on the length and breadth of knowledge involved. The other wouldn't press certainty unless he had a foundation. Albedo wouldn't unless--
He had a secret. Without wanting, blood rushed past Nigredo's ears, filling canals with the buzz of insects. And still, the boy gave agreement. He gave audience to Albedo and his reveal, which proved to be a little less than expectations. A little more to affects. Older brother thought for the future, and contrary to what had been claimed in that solitary cell, that lonely place, he planned to live. Contrary to that near slip in the bloody hall, he planned for Nigredo's life. And Nigredo--
Began to cry. Again, without wanting, but the child found it closer to relief than a burden. He pressed eyelids shut as tears fell across his cheeks; they fell from his eyes to collect in pools at the base of his head, clear and light and another word he could never quite verbalize. This sensation was unfamiliar, touching foreign in his mind, but he could place the reason for its presence. Somehow, Nigredo responded. Gave without pause.
For this was not his sadness in the open.
"For an instant," he choked out, "I had thought you would die. Since solitary. Or you would take my life. Since last night." He breathed in and caught the scent of blood. "If you hadn't remembered. If you hadn't come back." If you had discovered the reason for my birth-- "It would be better to want to die than wait to be rejected. Rubedo, too." It would be better to assume the worst than hope. The phrases were broken, intermingled with sobs, but there it lay.
However. "But that doesn't matter if you say that. If you'll have me, I'll stay where I am." Where they were. {I never want to disappear. I would be happy to live if you say that.}
Because in that instance, in that span of a minute, Nigredo thought he had heard acceptance. And why would he ever think to die if someone wished to keep him for him?
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Nigredo wept. His brother cried and stammered out phrases, and Albedo only bore witness. This was a confession, and comforting, interrupting--would ruin that sanctity. This was a confession, Albedo thought, and all that was Nigredo became clear. His silent longing, his standoffish behavior. The opposite of Albedo. Albedo would cling in want, force himself onto another in fear of loss. And Nigredo.
Nigredo would let go. Back up and watch at a distance rather than face that risk of pain when a hand would let go. His little brother could not face the thought of that pain, and perhaps if Albedo wanted a source for that mentality, he need look no further than himself. For, surely, over the years, Albedo had been a good example of what pain was caused when one clung to another who would walk away.
And yet. Here. Here.
Here, Nigredo would move contrary to that. Here, he would promise commitment if Albedo only said the word. Nigredo would give himself to one that had, over a month ago, tried his utmost to kill him. Nigredo would give himself wholly to Albedo, who spoke devotion and affection to a child that had known nearly none. Nigredo would claim to never want to disappear, to remain, to stay, and Albedo would only exist in a continuous overwhelm. Nigredo was giving him what he desired. If he only accepted.
Albedo shifted again, slid his hands to either side of Nigredo's face and stared into his brother's eyes. "You won't be rejected," he said firmly. "You are wanted." Emotion skittered across Albedo's face. His voice dropped quieter. "I want you."
The boy kissed his brother's cheek. "I won't hurt you." The action repeated at a jawline. "I won't be killed." And at a chin. "I won't be reckless." At the corner of Nigredo's mouth. "I won't reject you." As light as butterfly wings, he graced his lips across his brother's. "I want you to stay."
{Nigredo.} Albedo tipped his head, pressed lips against like more firmly. {Stay with me.} I love you.
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The words offered spoke of confirmation--the affections, an admission. He recalled many and could not remember ever receiving such kindness from anyone. It was tragic, almost, the touch of lips. Kisses could easily fall to waste if Nigredo held so much as one irredeemable quality. He knew this. More than anything, he would always expect it. Fear it. To be hated. For any number of reasons.
Because he was weaker than Albedo. Was as fragile as glass and sand. He would always doubt, therefore, of brothers and their love. To protect them, he would kill faith.
Conscience and cowardice are really the same things. However.
His mind was slipping away, cracked against a fracture. Green eyes spiraled into a haze, overflowed with tears, and carefully, he reached to grab Albedo's shirt. {Then I'll stay. I'll stay with you.} So don't. {Don't reject me. Don't hate me. I will give you anything you want, if you will let me.}
The hand tightened. I love you. I love you.
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Wondered more how much Nigredo wanted this, if his mind couldn't handle the thought of it.
He pressed a light kiss to his brother then pulled back, stroking a hand through dark hair. "I said what I want," he murmured quietly. {I want you to remain as you are. I want you to stay with me, and live.}
Comfort was the strangest. It seemed near odd to offer it here, but it came as necessary. {Why would I reject you?} the boy sent affectionately, pressure at his temples. {I don't hate you at all.} His fingers maintained their path of petting through his brother's hair, and he kissed Nigredo's forehead softly. {I care about you. I do love you.}
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So Nigredo, as he was, had to change. Break and reform to accept the unknown. The kindest of these came in the form of comfort.
And his brother was beginning to understand its truth.
His arms moved. Without thinking, he wrapped them around the other boy, tight enough steady the flow of blood. {Then I'll live. As I am.} The only want he could give in the exchange. Perhaps, the most difficult want to uphold. {I won't leave you.} Nigredo made a whimper, sobs stifling under his tongue. His head sparked against the imposed limitations, and he knew tomorrow would enter as a migraine. The child, unfortunately, couldn't think of another method in speech. Touch and overwhelm rendered vocal chords useless, and Nigredo had much to convey.
Like thanks. Like gratitude. {I'm glad.} He choked on a cry. {I'm really glad.}
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Because Nigredo was glad. The link could not lie. "I'm glad, too," he said quietly. {I'm glad you're here.}
This came as a repeat, said before, but he didn't have the mind to place it. Instead focus shifted to a different point. He touched his forehead against Nigredo's to gain his attention. "Let's get off the floor, okay?" It couldn't be comfortable to be crushed under your brother. Despite the fact it was Albedo's fault. He held to the action. It was only but necessary at that point.
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And he could not understand how he had managed to cry again.
The child stared with wide eyes at Albedo, to the ceiling over his brother's shoulder, and then back. "Um." He forced a sharp inhale before relinquishing his hold in increments. Yes, they would do well to get themselves off the floor. "Okay. Yeah."
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Albedo detached himself carefully and backed off his brother, before standing and leaning down to pull Nigredo up with him. He brushed his brother off slightly, and went to pull him over to the bed. Partway there, he paused, looking at the desk. "Do you need that?" A murmured yes was given, and Albedo plucked it up and handed it over without delay. That done, he continued leading Nigredo the few feet to the bed. "Lay down, okay?" A child's please was infused in the tone. "Why'd you come to my room, anyway?"
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When Albedo asked for the reason for his presence, Nigredo almost answered wrongly, to remember at the last minute. Why would he be here? He had come here for a specific reason than anything natural, right? Right. "I, uh," he started, staring at Albedo with some reservation, "I didn't want to stay in my room with, uh, him in there so... I'm sorry if I disturbed you." He swallowed audibly.
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"You didn't disturb me," came the first point. "I want you by me. Come whenever you like. Think of this room as yours, too." Though here came the second point, carefully said to sound as casual as the first. "Is he giving you trouble?"
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Then.
His mind tilted too far at the question, and the child recalled an older boy with the selfsame eyes. The wrongs he had committed. How the surface skins they wore were near indistinguishable to the naked eye. The temptation for murder flared within Nigredo, and without a whole mind, it was apparent to any and all. "Not lately," he muttered, frozen in his impulse. "But he should still die."
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Something that held fast despite the changes in mind.
Albedo hummed quietly in apparent serenity as he moved to trail a hand along Nigredo's thigh. There was hatred present, a clear hatred in the way of a longing for another's death. No messy wantings, no conflicted resolutions desired. Only a death, clear and simple. "Nigredo..." Albedo said lightly, pleasantly. An edge of adoration underneath. "Do you want him dead?
"I'll kill him for you, if you like."
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Would he grant Albedo that chance?
"I wonder," he murmured. "I wonder if I just want him dead. Maybe." He closed his eyes, feeling calmer than his words implied. "Maybe I want to be the one to kill him."
He sighed and shuddered against his brother. "At any rate, I don't have the patience to hold out," concluded Nigredo. "I'll probably lose it one night." As he had for another.
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