Edel AU.
Jesus Christ. The plot bunnies are eating me.
Characters: Yuffie, Matt, Nami, Jack, Mentioned: Rin and implied others
It’s an important day.
She remembers that. Even through all the fog in her head, she remembers that much. She can’t for the LIFE of her remember why….and it’s stuck stuck stuck and painful in her mind like a splinter. Can’t remember the important things can’t remember can’t remember……
She eats, Nami makes sure she does, quiet and sweet and reminding her of being five in father’s chambers while her mother told her stories….It’s so far away the image burns in her head for a moment and then is gone like a flash. Like a bright light behind her eyes burning everything away.
It’s a little after Nami’s left and her hair is neat and tidy in a wet rope down her back, long and braided and clean that she remembers all too well what she was supposed to remember. She has a very good memory. She does. It’s just all locked up in the back of her head with a fog to protect it so thick she gets stuck.
She can hear words and memories just right out her reach by just a short little stretch that she could find them if she really really tried, she’s sure, so sure. But she knows the key now, it’s long hair in braids and her eyes are closed tight trying to imagine why when-
She’d pounding on the door a second later, it’s soon till they open the door, they’ll let her out, let her walk, they will. They will. She can’t piece together words well enough to tell or talk what she can see, what she’s seen. And she knows if she tries Ghost will catch her words and tangle them before they can reach who she means for them to. (Or Jacky will tell her to calm calm calm and she can’t can’t can’t. Not right now no no no.)
She wants out. Wants out out out out.
She sits down hard, knees hitting the floor with a crack she hears (but wont feel until there’s color to show she should) before she just lets herself curl, fingers twisting in her hair, tugging the strands hard enough to get them out of that shape. It’s not hers. Not hers. Not today. No.
When the door finally opens she gets a look something like a stab in the chest from Jacky. She’s glad he’s letting her out, but the way he’s looking at her makes her feel tiny and like she’s a bug on the floor, curled and laid out on it’s back and any moment she’s going to be less entertaining then she was a moment before. Of course.
Her fingers relax and pull free of the long strands of black that now hang wet in her face and tangle around her fingers, loose and alone. There’s less of an ache and she stares at them. They’re supposed to be part of a whole….just another thing she broke. Broken Broken……and when she looks up the path is clear and Jacky is long gone, down the hall, unlocking doors. He’s been gone a long long time to her. Too broken there to fix. Too many things are too broken to fix.
She walks through the halls, trying to not be caught. Though no one can catch her. (She’s the best there is. Best. She can’t be caught. Never never ever.) Fingers trail notes and patterns along the wall as she walks and she’s making figure eights on the floor with the toes of her boots as goes, pretty patterns no one else can see.
She’s looking for a door, looking (looking looking looking)…..THERE.
She pokes her head in fingers curling around the door frame as she does, peeking in. She doesn’t know how welcome she is today, if it’s the day she thinks it is, she doesn’t want to be adding to broken things and thoughts and….
And nothing’s happening. That’s the thing she sees first. Nothing. No strings connecting, no papers rustling…nothing. Silent. Silent. Too too quiet.
Her feet scuff the floor and she steps light and careful into the dark mess of strings that are not connecting like they should be. It takes her a moment to see him, he’s in the chair like she’d expect, but he’s not very like himself at all so she nearly missed him. Like he wasn’t there at all. It scares her so bad she can feel her vision go white and her body tense like a spring.
(no no`no not leaving me too people can leave without dying leave and look and sound the same or leave their bodies behind like shells to visit home all alone alone please don’t go too)
He’d tell her before going away, he’d tell her. That’s all she has to cling to as she walks over and watches him like some kind of careful little timid thing. He’s hiding quiet in plain sight, and for once just once she wishes he’d talk. She doesn’t like to wish he did anything different then he does. It feels wrong and incorrect.
It’s wrong wrong wrong but he’s hiding. She sits beside the chair and he’s watching her, just a little. Like she distracted him, not like he’s trying to figure out what she’s doing.
She waits.
She’s willing to wait.
Matt’s not a plaything, Matt is Matt, and he’s worth waiting for.
So she does.
It’s been a long time since he talked as much as she did and he smiled. She misses that. Somedays, she wants to scream at the missing girl. She’s as guilty as Miley for going away….but she didn’t mean to because she was the kinder one, sweet. She made word games and talked calmly to her even after the fog rolled in and made things harder to understand and the games harder to play. She didn’t leave on purpose. That’s all Yuffie has she can hold on to to keep from getting mad at her.
She hates it when people leave and take parts of the people she loves. She’s a patchwork of missing pieces herself and knows it. Seeing someone else’s missing pieces make her miss her own cause she doesn’t have any to spare.
She’s curled up by his leg, using his knee as something to lean on, waiting. He’s got to move sometime. He has puzzles and thoughts and strings and he’s got to do something something something.
(He looked at her he did and that means he’s still in there he’s still there not-……..he’s still there still there )
It feels like hours or seconds and she doesn’t know the difference. Time is time and it’s passing passing passed and it’s long gone by the time she’s thought to deal with it.
She’s half asleep and watching the door out of the corner of her eye, no one is going to interrupt her time that isn’t until she’s sure and sure isn’t coming and she jumps when she feels something brushing back her hair and it isn’t her hand cause her hands are curled up tight under her chin and….her laugh is like breaking glass, shattering and tinkling and she curls up tighter for a moment before relaxing.
It doesn’t matter that he’s telling her not to worry, she doesn’t stop, not matter what anyone says. She never doesn’t worry. Someone with that many broken pieces holds on tight to the ones she still has, but she’s willing to stop for the moment.
As long as she can find him again, she’s okay with him missing pieces too.
Characters: Yuffie, Matt, Nami, Jack, Mentioned: Rin and implied others
It’s an important day.
She remembers that. Even through all the fog in her head, she remembers that much. She can’t for the LIFE of her remember why….and it’s stuck stuck stuck and painful in her mind like a splinter. Can’t remember the important things can’t remember can’t remember……
She eats, Nami makes sure she does, quiet and sweet and reminding her of being five in father’s chambers while her mother told her stories….It’s so far away the image burns in her head for a moment and then is gone like a flash. Like a bright light behind her eyes burning everything away.
It’s a little after Nami’s left and her hair is neat and tidy in a wet rope down her back, long and braided and clean that she remembers all too well what she was supposed to remember. She has a very good memory. She does. It’s just all locked up in the back of her head with a fog to protect it so thick she gets stuck.
She can hear words and memories just right out her reach by just a short little stretch that she could find them if she really really tried, she’s sure, so sure. But she knows the key now, it’s long hair in braids and her eyes are closed tight trying to imagine why when-
She’d pounding on the door a second later, it’s soon till they open the door, they’ll let her out, let her walk, they will. They will. She can’t piece together words well enough to tell or talk what she can see, what she’s seen. And she knows if she tries Ghost will catch her words and tangle them before they can reach who she means for them to. (Or Jacky will tell her to calm calm calm and she can’t can’t can’t. Not right now no no no.)
She wants out. Wants out out out out.
She sits down hard, knees hitting the floor with a crack she hears (but wont feel until there’s color to show she should) before she just lets herself curl, fingers twisting in her hair, tugging the strands hard enough to get them out of that shape. It’s not hers. Not hers. Not today. No.
When the door finally opens she gets a look something like a stab in the chest from Jacky. She’s glad he’s letting her out, but the way he’s looking at her makes her feel tiny and like she’s a bug on the floor, curled and laid out on it’s back and any moment she’s going to be less entertaining then she was a moment before. Of course.
Her fingers relax and pull free of the long strands of black that now hang wet in her face and tangle around her fingers, loose and alone. There’s less of an ache and she stares at them. They’re supposed to be part of a whole….just another thing she broke. Broken Broken……and when she looks up the path is clear and Jacky is long gone, down the hall, unlocking doors. He’s been gone a long long time to her. Too broken there to fix. Too many things are too broken to fix.
She walks through the halls, trying to not be caught. Though no one can catch her. (She’s the best there is. Best. She can’t be caught. Never never ever.) Fingers trail notes and patterns along the wall as she walks and she’s making figure eights on the floor with the toes of her boots as goes, pretty patterns no one else can see.
She’s looking for a door, looking (looking looking looking)…..THERE.
She pokes her head in fingers curling around the door frame as she does, peeking in. She doesn’t know how welcome she is today, if it’s the day she thinks it is, she doesn’t want to be adding to broken things and thoughts and….
And nothing’s happening. That’s the thing she sees first. Nothing. No strings connecting, no papers rustling…nothing. Silent. Silent. Too too quiet.
Her feet scuff the floor and she steps light and careful into the dark mess of strings that are not connecting like they should be. It takes her a moment to see him, he’s in the chair like she’d expect, but he’s not very like himself at all so she nearly missed him. Like he wasn’t there at all. It scares her so bad she can feel her vision go white and her body tense like a spring.
(no no`no not leaving me too people can leave without dying leave and look and sound the same or leave their bodies behind like shells to visit home all alone alone please don’t go too)
He’d tell her before going away, he’d tell her. That’s all she has to cling to as she walks over and watches him like some kind of careful little timid thing. He’s hiding quiet in plain sight, and for once just once she wishes he’d talk. She doesn’t like to wish he did anything different then he does. It feels wrong and incorrect.
It’s wrong wrong wrong but he’s hiding. She sits beside the chair and he’s watching her, just a little. Like she distracted him, not like he’s trying to figure out what she’s doing.
She waits.
She’s willing to wait.
Matt’s not a plaything, Matt is Matt, and he’s worth waiting for.
So she does.
It’s been a long time since he talked as much as she did and he smiled. She misses that. Somedays, she wants to scream at the missing girl. She’s as guilty as Miley for going away….but she didn’t mean to because she was the kinder one, sweet. She made word games and talked calmly to her even after the fog rolled in and made things harder to understand and the games harder to play. She didn’t leave on purpose. That’s all Yuffie has she can hold on to to keep from getting mad at her.
She hates it when people leave and take parts of the people she loves. She’s a patchwork of missing pieces herself and knows it. Seeing someone else’s missing pieces make her miss her own cause she doesn’t have any to spare.
She’s curled up by his leg, using his knee as something to lean on, waiting. He’s got to move sometime. He has puzzles and thoughts and strings and he’s got to do something something something.
(He looked at her he did and that means he’s still in there he’s still there not-……..he’s still there still there )
It feels like hours or seconds and she doesn’t know the difference. Time is time and it’s passing passing passed and it’s long gone by the time she’s thought to deal with it.
She’s half asleep and watching the door out of the corner of her eye, no one is going to interrupt her time that isn’t until she’s sure and sure isn’t coming and she jumps when she feels something brushing back her hair and it isn’t her hand cause her hands are curled up tight under her chin and….her laugh is like breaking glass, shattering and tinkling and she curls up tighter for a moment before relaxing.
It doesn’t matter that he’s telling her not to worry, she doesn’t stop, not matter what anyone says. She never doesn’t worry. Someone with that many broken pieces holds on tight to the ones she still has, but she’s willing to stop for the moment.
As long as she can find him again, she’s okay with him missing pieces too.