Night 53: Solitary Room 1

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{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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Perhaps it can be attributed to experience. Perhaps his instincts had merely amplified from the unexpected, or intuition had grasped the basics that made his older brother. Regardless of source, Nigredo moved in time, in step, in without missing a heartbeat. One injured arm came upward to cut off access while the other grasped at a wrist, to remain in an ironclad grip

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His brother was crying. One could admonish him in another time, but here, Nigredo said nothing. There wasn't anything to say, truthfully, because most everything was known. While Albedo cried, Nigredo calmed, emotions deadening to the point of impassivity. The constriction in his chest ceased movement. The child felt like he could breathe.

Or not quite. His fingers continued to move, and the useless arm at his side shifted as well. It wrapped around his brother's small form and--like a time before--held.

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Albedo made another small noise as his brother moved closer to him, wrapping an arm around him. It changed nothing, didn't it? Parts of him rebelled against everything, denied it all and said that nothing would change. This had been similar to other times, had it not? Things had ended in a peaceful way, a calm way, and in the morning, nothing had changed. Everything had changed! Wasn't that right? Wasn't this only temporary, and....

Thoughts trailed out of his head as Nigredo stroked his hair; slowly, his crying mostly stopped even as his eyes remained squinted closed. He cautiously reached out to touch Nigredo's chest, fingers gracing fabric. "I don't want you to... go away again." This touched on something he almost wouldn't say. It felt like dependence. It wavered as thin balance able to be toppled. It existed only as glass, one last piece to be broken.

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What do you say to such a plea when lies proved more pleasant than the truth? But then, what was his truth? If given the choice between oblivion and existence within a specific context, Nigredo would care for one over the other. When the context shifted, would his answer change as well? The boy glanced down, line of sight traversing over his sibling's white hair.

Once again, he would recall a want, the restraint in his chest beneath his brother's digits. His own words as well. No promises. No words. Just...surprise him. "I'm here," answered Nigredo, who then felt his voice crack in the admission. "I won't go away. I won't leave." Like he had times before. Like that night with the doors that led to nowhere.

He was letting things go. As asked, as never expected. Bit-by-bit, until everything he couldn't let go disappeared in his stead.

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His mind felt shattered still. He had put forth a solution, had it accepted, stated his understanding of his brother and was told that was enough--was given soft affection in face of his pain, was told all he wanted to hear in reply to his tears. He froze, muscles slacking entirely, body tipping to the side. Any strength he had drained from him. Not eating, living on sedatives, and now all of this, after everything allowed nothing to remain. His chest heaved slowly, the deep breaths of a dying animal.

But he wasn't dying, was he? His existence wasn't one to fade so easily. Despite wants, efforts, attempts.... He was half-laying on Nigredo at this point, reclining without the power to force himself upright. His voice was quiet. "I wanted to die, too, you know."

There was an absence of sound in the space after, as Albedo tried to force his mind to move. "Both of you would leave, and even when... When I... No matter what I did, it still hurt. I couldn't just. Be okay with it. But I couldn't just die, could I?" He gave a strangled laugh

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Ice formed in his veins. The flesh on Nigredo's face drained of their color, and he could taste a sensation closest to chalk in his mouth. This reaction was strange, given what he knew. And he knew, just as Albedo did in regards to his own desires. It was not understood, but he knew that Albedo had wanted it. Beneath everything, ever since that day his regeneration had been revealed, Albedo had changed. Had grown obsessed with death.

And here, only a few days before this, Nigredo had learned. Albedo could die. So none of this was that surprising. Yet, it was. It pained to know his brother had thought to follow through because, yes, dying would have hurt him. Would have resulted in things better left outside his imagination. However...

He remained silent for a long time, fingers moving in slower intervals. "You didn't hurt me," he finally whispered. "You didn't leave me alone. So..." It was fine. As it was, it was fine. Even as everything inside came to a halt.

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There was something cooling within him. A quiet settling of emotions. Everything was becoming simple, perhaps in a flawed way. It shouldn't be simple, but his mind had moved too far. Was too exhausted deep in his soul. So it didn't matter. Did it? No. It didn't matter. "You, too," he intoned. "You didn't hurt me like that. But you almost did, didn't you? You almost let him kill you. Don't you understand?"

Understand. Understand what? Oh. Yes. That pain. It had moved from him, dulled. "It's the same. I can't bear to lose you either. That night..." That night. Which night. There were so many. That night. "I was scared. You didn't fight back. You just let... If you died...."

He felt sick again. He didn't know why. He was shivering suddenly, uncontrollably. He wasn't cold, was he? So why?

--Because he had believed he had almost lost Nigredo. In the same hours he realized he loved him. The irony was too precise to be anything but fitting. It was horrible, and he shook harder without knowing.

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Ah. That night. The memory was enough to prompt blood to flow. For a moment, Nigredo saw clarity like it never existed before, and for all his faulty reasoning, he could understand. How that had hurt Albedo. Why the response afterward had proved so damning. The variant, however, could not apologize. They were passed such sentiments now, and words couldn't change what had occurred.

Once again, his chest cavity tightened. And again, his mouth formed the words. "I fought back," he started dryly, "at first. I never liked him. He was..." Too much like a reminder. "I stopped at some point. I couldn't; I don't know why. I gave up." Before he even tried.

That apathy, the one that scared him. It had come out of nowhere, but Nigredo knew now. Its origins were rooted in what was mentioned previously. What Rubedo had said. What Nigredo had recalled. He continued, "But then he asked..." {Is there any way you want to die?} "...and I knew. No one was there to say otherwise."

That's why...

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A response. Did he have any? He didn't believe so. What to say to any of this? Should he fight the words? Deny what had already transpired? He was not as weak as that. Albedo had spoke to share, to be understood. And possibly, Nigredo had done the same. Albedo couldn't tell him, in the ways that mattered, that he had thought of him that night in details, came to conclusions. It was petty in retrospect, meaningless. There was no point to it. Why speak of something nice to look at when there's but blood at your feet?

This passed in bits and pieces in his mind, and he nodded slowly. He was cold again. Things had frozen again. The back and forth would make him ill if nothing else. "And now?" he wondered curiously. "Will you fight back now?"

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Would he? In honesty, Nigredo hadn't truly contemplated the possibilities within the question. He had made attempts at a defense the subsequent nights, but he would admit to faltering for varying reasons. For his brother's sake, however, the boy considered it. Would he fight back should Sync attempt again? Would he allow the same incident to occur a second time? For the breaks to occur and another death wish to settle?

Within this context, the answer was clear. There were things he could no longer accept--for his own determination if nothing else. "He'll die," he said, almost in a matter-of-fact tone, "before that happens again."

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There was something to be pleased in this, and Albedo thrummed in his throat, quietly, like a content cat. "Good answer," he gave on habit, then rethought, tipping his head into Nigredo's shoulder without realizing. He wouldn't ask if it was possible. Nigredo would not state that clearly if it wasn't. Albedo stayed silent, then glanced up. "So I don't have to be scared then

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It wasn't that Albedo no longer had to be scared, nor was Nigredo the better creature for his answer. Though one half of the information presented stayed far beyond the younger sibling's comprehension, he at least knew they were dealing death in their own way. Even as the thought persisted as a threat, he could accept the difference. So when Albedo glanced up, Nigredo looked down. When Albedo's gaze fell away, Nigredo watched.

He could have said something--anything, really--but instead, he remained silent. This was not the time to reply.

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There was silence and it was something to regret and be grateful for. Albedo would keep talking, then. Where he shouldn't, perhaps. It wasn't for him to know. The subject has risen and none had moved to shift it. He settled downward, gave in to gravity's hold and curled slightly in Nigredo's lap. "I'll tell you, then. Clues to pieces to puzzles. What are we? A retrovirus. Made to destroy our anti-existence. Right? Of course. There are several facts to consider

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The logic made sense in a way it shouldn't, the final message pristine enough for the little brother to wish desperately for confusion. If he had to explain the words to an outsider, the account given would be the following: Albedo could not die, but Rubedo could kill what was tainted by U-DO. Thus, the solution he had reached in the subconscious domain of Sakura Mizrahi's mind was to be tainted. To allow the Red Dragon to destroy and regeneration to cease.

Had that been why-- No. Nigredo could attest that the happenings in the Conflict were incidental. The bottom line, however, did not change. He could die given the presented logic, and Nigredo was right to fear a confrontation between the two eldest

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The question read as obvious to Albedo. He shifted, despite his body's wants, to tip his head to look upward at his brother. "Yes," he answered matter-of-factly. "Of course." Was this not clear? Was there something left to the imagination? He had just said, moments before, hadn't he? That both of them would die. The thought kept still like a shotgun blast to his stomach. No matter how long time would keep. The fact still came harshly each time

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To counter a series of statements rooted in death was folly. Nigredo understood: despite the apparent uncertainty in tone, these seated far beyond the surface for casual dismissal. Yet every fiber of his being rejected the words. He could relate, more than most and certainly more than his brothers, to the aftermath of death. Between escaped brain matter and morning's light lay nothing. No memory of transition, no awareness. You couldn't be together in a state where no bonds held. Albedo was wrong. When you died, you died alone