His mind started to turn, but in the end it fell on its back.
Characters: Alfons Heiderich, anyone else
Setting: Blue Kitchen
Time: Day 009
Summary: Alfons, still getting used to his new body, sits in the kitchen to reflect.
Warnings: It's Alfons. XD Meaning: None! <3
No matter where he ran, he would always end up here. A child, sticking close to the ever-present window, keeping in his mother's eye even though for all he knows, she isn't even there at all. His feet would move, every time, toward that spot, that place of comfort, that place where his mind could calm down, stop turning, and...
...The kitchen. This was his hiding place, back when he was still human. Funny that he didn't notice the scent of metal, that easily wafted into his nose now, the pepper of the meat and the light tang of spices. If he closed his eyes and stuck his tongue out, he could almost taste it, feel it, just allow it to assault his senses. When he was a child, he had sat in a similar place, though his senses were dulled, unable to truly comprehend the sights and smells that he could have been experiencing, rather leaving them to simple human senses.
...Simple.
Times were simpler then, weren't they?
Alfons leaned forward, head resting against the cool metal of the countertop.
Everything was simple. Easy.
Was it now? The decision had certainly been. It had only taken moments of hesitation, leaving him to cast aside a life and an ideal that he had been living by for eighteen years.
Do you regret it?
"[No, I don't.]"
He didn't regret it. He regretted none of it. His body occasionally felt sick, his mind overriden with the new sensations that were so new to him, his new diet, his new hunger...
Even with that, it was still worth it.
But...
This room smelled like her. Of all his searching, the trail seemed to end here. Faint, small, but unmistakeable, it sat in the air, floating, taunting him. She had been gone for what seemed to be forever, without a word, without any form of warning. Hours turned into days, days turned into nights, days turned into weeks, and Alfons couldn't stand waiting anymore. Waiting wasn't, couldn't be an option. Not here, not now.
Her smell had been faint, but he'd been able to follow it, at least a little bit.
But here. Why here? Why had it stopped here? The smell smelled wrong...very, very wrong. He couldn't pinpoint it, but there was simply something about it, that...
...
What was it?
If only someone could explain the differences in scents to him. It smelled desperate, somehow, but how did he know that, and what did he mean by that?!
Alfons, sighing, slumped further against the cold, letting it touch his forehead, so it could calm his racing mind, his racing heart.
He wasn't getting anywhere.
...
He was so confused.