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
(
Read more... )
Perhaps he registered the adults walking away, perhaps he didn't. Albedo had continued his downward slump until he was on the ground--once again, he might say--a crumbled heap of something miserable, limbs askew like his puppet strings had been cut. And what had that accomplished, he wondered, other than making everything worse?
The panic had diluted by this point, perhaps they had found a concoction better suited for him, or perhaps it was all in his head (and wasn't that funny?), and if even he had wanted to continue his violence and monologues, his limbs weren't fit to play the part. Heavy and leaden, Albedo stared sadly at them, knowing that no matter what he asked, they couldn't give at this moment. How completely funny. All of the things that the boy was able to do, and these chemicals trumped the chemicals in his head ( ... )
Reply
Reply
And yet--and perhaps the fault was with the chemicals--Nigredo felt restless. Malcontent. How very contrary to what he had expected when the crying died. Apparently, Albedo's peace of mind was not the only thing he wanted. In an effort to find out just what, he drew closer to his brother and waited.
No difference. Nothing.
He closed his eyes and pulled back, arm still curled around Albedo. The child vaguely recognized the strands of hair brushing against his own; aside from that, he recalled only his elder's words.
Despite the weight of the subject, Nigredo did not hesitate in his own, opting only to leave the sentiment half-finished. "I know," he muttered. I don't...
Reply
Know what? Know--
His hands released Nigredo's then slowly, as if in fear of being reprimanded, slid them around his brother's waist. It was something familiar, something forgotten; something faded, brushed away by things more brighter and severe in their harshness. The cruelties of reality were that the sweeter things seldom stayed, turning bitter in the half-light.
Albedo pressed his face into Nigredo shoulder--that this was anything but a hug by now would be a lie--and took a breath, trying not to cry. "I want to go back."
Reply
The arms circled about his waist he allowed, albeit the boy had to repress a shudder to do so. He hadn't given much thought to Albedo returning the gesture, and reality had taken him by surprise. And this, in turn, made him feel marginally depressed. Much like the earlier restlessness, Nigredo could not find the source.
Again, with the half-hearted play at affection, he pulled his hands up to rest them at his brother's back. "Go back?" he echoed. "Where?"
Reply
Quite. But not entirely. Keeping his face pressed into Nigredo, he answered clearly, "Back to before."
Before everything. Before immortality, before little girls, before the Executioner, and before the Conflict, splitting him from all that he knew. Before separation. Back to the calm days of training and games, ending on halfhearted harsh words and familiar forms piled together, even if they weren't supposed to share beds or sleep on the floor. Before--
Something sparked in Albedo's mind, something magenta and bright. He started suddenly, then shifted his head to watch Nigredo. Albedo knew Nigredo didn't love him. But maybe he once had. Maybe they both had.
Reply
Leave a comment