Day 42: Magus Park [evening]
The temperature was starting to cool down, but that was okay with Akihiko. It wasn't that much different from winter evenings back home. He was feeling better, having been outside most of the day, but still. That niggling stress from the previous few days was still getting to him. He sighed, looking up at the darkening sky and thinking about it all
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The child lifted a slow hand to his cheek, distinctly aware of the collection of dirt and sweat against skin. Evidence of how close they--he had come. His expression broke into open disgust, and he brushed both hands down the sides of his pant legs, the move harboring a type of hidden fury. In reality, he felt too placid, oddly content. Whatever they had used, he decided, must have severed the connections to want. Albedo could kill him now, or he could thrash about wildly and talk of things Nigredo didn't understand. The latter wouldn't care.
Wouldn't care... Green eyes followed an invisible line to the heap some ways away. He looked miserable, more like the middle child Nigredo once knew, and in his chemical-induced murk, the youngest grew annoyed. Had his own brother's death been so wanted that Albedo would cry at the loss? How considerate. Perhaps in the near future, Nigredo would do so well to allow it.
Before he could properly assess his own intentions, the words spilled out--clumsily as to reflect his mental state. "Ask next time," he muttered. "It isn't that hard to kill myself."
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Albedo was alone. He was alone, and that was how it was and how it would be, because he couldn't die. And it wasn't okay anymore, it wasn't all right, and it wasn't a gift, it was a curse, a burden, and how did he continue each day, knowing this, knowing this, and! There was no silence any longer--Albedo had curled in on himself, muffling his sobs. There was no thought for attention. He had simply been made aware of exactly how broken he was. And Rubedo was no where near to assuage the hurt. And Rubedo was the hurt! He couldn't stand it! He couldn't live like... Live? Live like this! It was so... So funny....
The boy sobbed harder into the dirt, wishing that each injury he had ever sustained would come upon him all at once, and maybe then, maybe then he--would be free. Maybe then. He could. (Rest.)
Nigredo spoke, and shattered the self-made world.
Albedo's head whipped up, nothing hostile, nothing mad in his visage. The silent desperation that had peered upwards during their fight had overthrown all else, and showed full forth on his face. Desperation, and deep pain. An empty, hopeless sorrow. In all of that, Albedo looked shocked. "No!" It burst out, followed by panting breaths. His face crumpled, and tears started once more in full force. "You can't... You can't die. I don't want to be l--" Left all alone.
The boy cut himself off, something tearing inside of him. It didn't matter how much he protested. It was fact. Rubedo. Nigredo. They would die. They would leave him. He would be alone. (So alone.) So much more than right now. And he couldn't--
He had given himself away in this, if his medicated self was to be believed. But one could always put two and two together and still come up with three--It wasn't as easy as it would seem, to kill a beloved sibling.
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But the moment it was mentioned and he saw his brother's face twist terribly, the former indifference dipped low. The implications of his own words were made clear: this was not a topic to tread lightly. Nigredo was wrong to have done so in the first place.
He dropped his gaze. "I'm sorry." A sigh. "I didn't mean it."
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"You always wanted that," he kept whispering. "So go." He swallowed, shoulders shaking in waves, the shudders slipping down his frame like waves. Going? Away? This couldn't--He couldn't--And, and, and yet--
And.
Hand still splayed, he curled again, touching his forehead to his folded knee. "Don't leave," he forced out. "Don't." It was too much, too little. Albedo couldn't be alone. He was alone. Nigredo couldn't. And Albedo... couldn't. And somewhere still. Somewhere.
He rolled his head slightly, one eye peeking out under his bangs. In all of his misery, he still managed to keep a steady gaze, tearful as it was. His voice was hoarse, but his belief in the thought echoed clear: "You always hated me."
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But like every time before, Nigredo stayed put, ironically for the very reasons which called him away.
Fortunately, the need to voice his objections died, though the child couldn't resist a frown at the obvious contraction. This was the second since the nurses' intervention. "You're not making sense," Nigredo stated meekly. Their syringes must have done quite a number on his poor brother's brain. His basic sense of logic was shot.
But could he not say the same for himself? He didn't know, but that last comment... Irritation piqued without hesitation. "Don't be ridiculous. Why would I hate you?"
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Surely they thought that, the both of them. Even before... Even before their parting (tearing), they must have thought he was mad. Disappearing, issuing statements about death and life before falling silent. Clinging with his might to Rubedo while doing the very things that would drive him away. Albedo wasn't an idiot. He knew all of that.
And now he knew more. He knew why certain stars shined as they did before they went out, he knew the guttering gasp of a dying man, he knew the severe destruction that came from love, and Albedo knew a hopeless situation. All of this, and still... Still he remained sealed in this fate, something darker than before, and....
The boy propped himself up again, unconsciously dragging a hand across his eyes, streaking the dirt there. Sitting was too much effort; his arms shook. Albedo frowned. "You do. Why wouldn't you hate me?"
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Instead, the boy drew closer to the other, stopping just at arm's length to kneel down. The change in height proved far more disorienting than usual, and for a second, his mind reeled and the rest of him slumped uncharacteristically on the grass. Nigredo blinked, then shrugged it off, too tired to properly correct his posture.
"You're my brother," he flatly stated. "I never hated you. Don't think like that again."
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Never hated? Something rose in his stomach, too harsh for hope and too flighty for sick, and Albedo shuddered again, eyes unfocusing. Of course, Nigredo... If Nigredo didn't hate him, then why had he...? And why had...? His hand stopped moving, rested where it was. His eyes lowered, staring at something in the grass and dirt.
"If you never did..." he began, his voice something cracked and broken. "Then why do you stay so far away?" This question was clear, and Albedo didn't understand why at all. Was it something other than hate? A neutral detachment? That sounded more like the other. It wasn't that Nigredo hated, but Nigredo didn't care.
Something small in him responded sadly, obediently. "Alright. I won't." Albedo swallowed, tears welling up again. "You don't hate me. You just don't care about me."
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"You don't want me around," came the answer. There was a brief pause. "Most of the time, anyway," he amended. Because the youngest was willing to give his elders a benefit of a doubt, in spite of suspicions (or the drugs) swimming in his head. A stark contrast from the albino, he was sure.
He carelessly waved a hand against his bangs, the agitation becoming more and more obvious. "I care. Just not in the way you want," said Nigredo.
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And something in him realized this was dangerous.
"You don't want me around," he shot back panicked, repeating the words in a rush. The coherent part of him saw this as different from being sedated by Rubedo, there was something different-- He couldn't touch on it. It was too far. His fists pressed deeper into his eyes.
Albedo didn't respond to the other comment. Not in the way he wanted? He choked a sob out, swallowing the rest down. What was this? What was this? How had he got here? How had this happened? Why did--why did--why--
The boy had been making a painful kreening, like an animal, and suddenly he stopped. Silence; and then: "You didn't leave me this time."
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But pride, even coupled with dropped barriers, refused to let up so easily.
"Won't leave," murmured Nigredo, hand shuffling up against chin. "Where would I go anyway?" Rubedo was likely elsewhere (Where was he anyway?) while a drugged child could only go travel far. His place was here, with or without the other.
He paused then, his expression becoming distant. "Aren't you angry?" he questioned. "Why are you crying?"
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Nothing. And yet, Albedo had finally peered upward, hands dropping downward; glancing at Nigredo with something unreadable, something far too full. "Angry?" His lips shifted the word as if testing it out for the first time. The boy legitimately sounded confused.
As before, memories shifted while sedated. The short-term receded as time went on, while other things were far too clear. His misplaced murder attempt was brushed to the side, his mind not acknowledging something so halfhearted in its desperation as important. There was something far more poignant to mull over--Nigredo had breached it himself, accidental as it was. "I'm not crying," he said tiredly with a hint of a whine to it. Albedo never liked having that pointed out, not now and not-- He couldn't help it. He just--
"But why wouldn't I? You--" His mind stumbled over their last encounter before this Institute, not clear on whose fault that had been. So 'left me' would be a flawed statement, as easier as it would be to say. The remaining option was far more clear to him, far more complicated, with much more weight. Albedo couldn't say it. Couldn't realize it more than it was. His face crumbled, the thought pulling out of him sluggishly. {You're both going to die.}
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"Is that what you want?" Wait. That question was a little more than unfair. He paused and corrected himself, "If so, sorry. You told me not to leave. I'm staying in my spot." The child almost fell back on ancient logic and stated he had been there first but thankfully kept his mouth in check.
Not that it mattered. Again, there was the response he hadn't meant to trigger. Guilt tipped over, and for once, against his better judgment, Nigredo reached out and touched the hem of his brother's sleeve. The move surprised even the younger, who found himself locked in unexplainable affect. "Don't." The command came without energy. "We're only twelve." A miraculous age for a child solider, perhaps, but his point should be clear: this line of reasoning had to end.
His hand pulled back and fell into his lap. "Anyway," he started, voice momentarily hanging mid-consonant, "I think we overdid it. Now I can't remember what I was going to say." A sigh. "Rubedo is going to punch us both."
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His brother reaching out to him physically was enough of a shock for Albedo to momentarily snap out of the haze, something much like fear crossing his eyes before fading to a weariness. Only twelve? Nigredo wasn't that naive. Aside from the fact that they were indeed child soldiers, that they should have probably died by now, people died every day. Every moment. Putting an age to death was like trying to successfully destroy U-DO--something that would bring more pain than it was worth, and that in the end would accomplish only that.
Once said, however, even mentally, the fact consumed Albedo. They could die at any moment. Drop at his feet like a... Like.... Albedo squeezed his eyes shut, shuddering. His hand darted out to follow Nigredo's retreating one, clutching it tightly. "That's not true," he whispered in a rush. "You know that's not true. There's no guarantee, no...." His eyes opened, pupils dilated to their fullness. His grip tightened, more out of desperation than a need for harm.
"...Any moment," he said, echoing his own thoughts, speaking more to himself. "You could die. Accidents, biological flaws, murder...." Here he shuddered again, the word provoking something recessed into his consciousness. "And there's nothing--" Albedo's voice hitched. "Nothing I can--"
He shivered as if cold, tears starting a new descent down his face. Like this, it was far too hard to ignore these things, far too-- He wished, suddenly and fervently, to be far away from here, even if he was alone, because then at least he wouldn't have to fight the point of being understood. Then he could mourn in his own way, knee deep in the earth wet from his tears, and pretend that everything would be okay. That it was all just a game. Just something that didn't matter, just--
Albedo caught Rubedo's name, slowly looked up again as if wounded, and didn't respond. Perhaps Nigredo could move from this point, but unless he was thoroughly distracted, Albedo couldn't. He no longer had anything to fight that with.
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And whereas Nigredo accepted his own mortality with nothing more than quiet resignation, Albedo... The luxury did not exist for him. It was, indeed, useless.
Green eyes followed the path to where their hands met, and without meaning to, he leaned, brushing shoulder against shoulder. Like with most difficult things, the child resorted to the silence he knew so well. Dilemma only served to remind far more than either probably wished; his usual habit was wisdom in this case. Or so he hoped.
In place of an answer--and despite the awkwardness to the entire act--he wrapped his free hand around his brother's torso and held.
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Silence stilled the emotions between the two, for once not worsening the situation. Nigredo's logic had been sound; there was no comfort in death, and any words given would only create more turmoil in this situation. The silence was comfortable for once, the tension lessening as Albedo remembered how to breathe. The subject, ever-present, started to slip back into the dredges of his consciousness--his mental survival instinct pushing it away. The thought wavered there; it was far too powerful to simply be shifted aside.
Until Albedo became further distracted, and it fled the forefront of his mind. A hand snaked around his torso, and the boy blinked downward at it, utterly confused. His hands were... clutching Nigredo's still--he frowned slightly at this, loosening his hold but keeping them there--so who....
The obvious logic that it was Nigredo's arm escaped him for a moment. There was comfort in this action, a kind of offhand peace. Rubedo, and those girls... Both had offered condolences for what plagued him in this way. (This first had worked, would always work, until it didn't, did it? The latter was too much of a substitute, too small and slender, much too breakable; a horde of warm bodies, smothering him with it, denying him sadness, denying him relief--Relax.) It wasn't as if this was something new, more, not lately. Albedo remembered when they were younger, Nigredo crawling into his bed to wrap around him as he slept; the same nightmares troubling them in different ways. Rubedo seemed to always sleep through it all. But as they grew older... Nigredo grew less fond of touching, and Albedo needed it more. Was that the first actual divide between the two?
He had been staring, silent, downwards for minutes, memories and thoughts floating askew through his mind. Albedo swallowed suddenly, unsure about how he was supposed to react. Wasn't there something he was missing? Hadn't he had been doing something, something that needed finishing? What was--
His head tilted, brushing against Nigredo's gently. Albedo would never say thank you--maybe, perhaps, possibly. But in this moment, he felt it. Without knowing how to express this, he wet his lips, falling back on an often repeated line. It held no desperation for once, more of an invitation if anything. Said like a secret, softly: "I don't want to be alone."
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