damned_institute | Day 58: Cafeteria

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Day 58: Cafeteria

Anise woke up feeling lucky to be alive. She still felt a bit waterlogged, even though her skin, hair, and clothes were completely dry. During last night's adventures, she'd swallowed a lot of water, and it still felt heavy and disgusting in her stomach. Her arms and legs were tired from treading water. Lying still in her bed, she still kind of felt like she was floating and bobbing in the water.

But she was alive.

Knowing how close she came to death last night, and remembering the lengths her friends had gone to in order to save her, there was no way Anise could let a little discomfort get her down. She had to be at her best today so she wouldn't seem ungrateful to Guy and Claude. On that note, she had to remember to thank them properly, now that she was better able to express herself.

While getting ready, Anise was surprised to actually run into Claude that morning. He came to her room asking for the notebook he stored there (or maybe it was an excuse to see her cute face again), so Anise happily located it and handed it over. She was pretty tired, but the big smile she gave him was genuine. Who wouldn't be happy to see her savior so soon after a dramatic rescue?

After he left, Anise finished re-tying her pigtails into a low position so the military beret would fit on her head, and then she was ready! Even though her stomach wasn't feeling that great, she figured sitting down to a decent meal would help normalize it. And luckily for her, she was among the few who had the privilege of eating such a meal. Anise filled a plate with french toast topped with syrup and fruit, accompanied by small portions of each of the available side dishes.

It looked like she was early, which meant there weren't a lot of people around. That was okay, though. Anise could get a good head start on her meal before any company came around. She sat down at a table by herself and started on her sausage first.

[for Tolten!]

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The responses made Albedo seem like he was a bother, but the boy didn't allow the thought to gestate further. There was another way to take this, after all, and it was not as if Albedo would think to deny Ritsuka in full. It was strange, to say the least, and spoke more of the shifts between him and Nigredo more than anything else, but where the evolution with his brother could be forced, what was happening here existed more natural, despite everything else. It was the lack of fear, he thought. He didn't yet hold fear that Ritsuka would turn from him.

Still, Albedo sighed back at Ritsuka, a grin perking on the edge of his expression. "And if I eat, will you, too?" He leaned forward, laying his arms on the table. "Because it isn't one-sided. You need to stay healthy, too."

He considered, suddenly, if his sibling was eating. Half and half on that. Nigredo was stubborn to a fault, but Albedo presumed that if he brought it up, Nigredo would do it. How things had changed, the boy thought. There was nothing wrong with the scenario, but here Albedo was, close to his little brother, and friends with possibly two others. He wouldn't have, he thought. He wouldn't have even tried if he hadn't met Angel first. Sorrow crossed through him, and he allowed it; it eventually dulled to a lower ache.

That was a promise he knew well. It was one he'd made before with Miku and with Soubi. The promise to eat and stay well even if he didn't feel like it. He never thought he'd make such a deal with Albedo, but he wasn't adverse to it. If that was what was necessary for Albedo to eat, then so be it. Albedo almost reminded Ritsuka of Soubi in a way - needing someone else to promise in order to take care of himself. What should have been a basic instinct blocked by some other, higher function of the psyche.

So be it.

"Yeah, I'll eat if you eat." It worked out for both of them that way. Ritsuka had already promised once to eat but to someone no longer here. There was no harm in promising again if it meant making Albedo do what was best for him. He reached out one hand, pinky extended, ready to make the promise official when he thought he saw sorrow cross Albedo's face.

He pulled his hand back, frowning faintly. "...Albedo, are you alright?"

Albedo stared at Ritsuka's hand, uncomprehending. There was something there, something he should have picked up on, but here it was, lacking, and Albedo didn't understand. Something from millenia ago, maybe; something from a normal childhood, perhaps. He stared as if it would be explained, and then Ritsuka drew back, questioning. Albedo glanced up.

So he had given more away than he had meant to, then. When was the last time that had happened--before the Conflict? Perhaps here with siblings? He blinked at Ritsuka as if deciding something, and eventually sighed. "...You're different to me," he said. "You have interests that I know, you can read between the lines of what I say, you have some similarities in family, you don't push me away." Albedo cocked an eyebrow. "In fact, you're more affectionate than my sibling. You're...."

He thought for a moment, frowning. "Comfortable. I'm not anxious with you. And that's... unknown to me." Albedo glanced away. He had spoken more freely than he had for a while, and he only felt as if he'd be turned away--despite what he had spoken. It was too ingrained in him. Too pressed upon him that he was a bother to those he cared for. He continued without looking back, raising his pinky to demonstrate. "...What does that mean?"

It wasn't sorrow then that had Albedo in its grips. Or, at least, it wasn't all sorrow. The confusion on Albedo's face at the extended pinky and its reluctant withdrawal spoke volumes to Ritsuka. While Ritsuka had simply forgotten so much about his life, Albedo had never known. The tragedy in someone never knowing childhood was a pain felt all too keenly and he had to make a concentrated effort not to show anything further on his face. He knew well that concern was appreciated, but pity was not. And it wasn't pity with Ritsuka... It was something else.

Eventually Albedo sighed and Ritsuka found himself surprised by what his friend said. Affectionate? He'd never thought himself... But he had changed, hadn't he? Since getting to know Soubi and Yuiko, he'd changed. The Zeroes and Yayoi, Miku and Alfons, Tamaki and Nataku, and now Albedo had all changed him away from the shut off child he'd become after Seimei died. So as Albedo admitted to feeling comfortable with him, Ritsuka could only stare, still somewhat shocked at what he was hearing.

Before he could speak, however, Albedo circled back around to the pinky. Ritsuka wasn't sure if Albedo wanted to talk about what he'd said and so after a slight hesitation, Ritsuka leaned forward and extended his little finger again. "It's a sign we have, to seal a promise. Like a handshake only..." It's what children do. He trailed off, looking at his finger. The other Ritsuka had probably done this lots of times, but Ritsuka didn't know with whom or for what.

He leaned forward and hooked his finger around Albedo's own. "There's this song you're supposed to sing, but it's kind of dark. But it means you can't break your promise once you make it. So you have to eat, okay?"

Because if Albedo was serious about everything he'd just said, then Ritsuka didn't want to lose him. There were things he didn't like about Albedo, but he knew there had to be some things Albedo didn't like about him either. It was what being friends was about and Ritsuka was sorely lacking in those as of late. It was nice having someone he could believe in, even a little bit. "I promise to eat if you do."

[ Ritsuka baby, I'm so sorry. T_T ]

Sealing a promise was something he could take in degrees. His expression loosened, and he nodded to show he understood the concept. Ritsuka reached forward, and Albedo shifted his hand out further, willing to do so if the other boy wanted. "There's this song you're supposed to sing--

"But it's kind of dark."

At the contact, a jolt went through him, hand jerking away as one of his legs convulsed, knee hitting the table. His face contorted in pain, breath escaping in a desperate hiss. Something in his mind snapped into place; a rubber band refitting into a path ill fit, and his eyes flashed violet, escaping florescent. His free hand grabbed the edge of the table, nails pressing into the material. The sensation was an opposite wavelength--a shock of betrayal and the edge of Executioner both--and it fled through him, along the length of him, before fading to a dull throb.

He stared at the table, near dumbed to silence from the sensation. His mind caught up, the new edges of him pressing where he would have before pulled away, and a giggle escaped him; an exhale of instability that trailed to silence.

Edited 2011-08-25 06:25 (UTC)

[sobbing]

It had taken some time, but Albedo had moved forward to seal the promise. The small act of trust made Ritsuka smile. He knew it had to be hard. It had been hard for Ritsuka, too, when it came to trusting people again after Seimei had died. That Albedo would let him back in after what had happened yesterday was a big step for them both and so it was with relief that he'd joined their fingers together.

Only for that feeling to drain from him in an instant as his friend jerked away. He knew that look - pain - and knew the feeling, but the suddenness of it all took Ritsuka by surprise. One moment they'd been touching and the next Albedo was snapping back, nails digging into the table, eyes...

His eyes... Ritsuka stared in something akin to fear if only because he didn't understand. Albedo's eyes, for the briefest of moments had flashed with a light from within. Now he was staring at the table, the broken shell of laughter escaping through whatever it was that had caused Albedo so much pain. A simple touch forever ruined now.

"...Albedo...? What..." What had he done? He'd done the one thing he'd promised himself he'd never do. Ritsuka had hurt someone and he didn't even know how. His mind scrambled to catch up with what had just happened and he stood, afraid to reach out, but driven to do so, needing to assure himself that he hadn't permanently damaged Albedo somehow. His hands hovered ineffectually as he stared at his friend. "I'm sorry...! I'm sorry! Are you okay?!"

This was a song to be savored, now wasn't it? Something familiar in the cause and effects, and here was the simple essence of siblings left and forgotten. Pain, was it? What a simple dance of sensation. What an overwhelming tide of change to shift and cause dismay. His name was being spoken, but there were words on the air, through the mind, and here was it, the aspect of actuality.

No, he didn't answer. There was nothing to say.

...Was that entirely correct? The tone had changed now, shifted its meaning, and there was something familiar in those words. Something familiar even as they lacked meaning. And what language was this, spoken in even in tears? His or anothers, what was it? What was the itching about those words, something that he had promised--

--Fine, then; let him have his thanks and apologies. Albedo would take them. Fine.--

Albedo blinked rapidly, inconsistent laughter dying away. This was....

He was caught, then. Caught between wants and instincts both. Here was a rolling wave of pleasure called knowledge, flavored in magenta, and yet here was the one Albedo called friend. The one who called Albedo friend. He took in a shuddering gasp, mind shaking. There was nothing to contemplate what had just happened. All of him was focused on this singular moment. A moment he could not just wipe aside with no drawbacks.

The boy stilled entirely, froze as if nothing had happened, then tilted his head up, eyes shining as he smiled. Nothing like a friendly grin in that--it was altogether darker but held no promise of pain. No. There was something off--it was more than obvious. But there was no hostility in the expression. "Nothing," he said finally, the word near chirped. "There's nothing wrong. You know...."

You know, you know. Do you know what the link is like?

"I won't hurt you. You know that, Ritsuka? Right?"

Edited 2011-08-28 23:18 (UTC)

He was still laughing, but it wasn't out of mirth or amusement. This was the sort of laughter he heard from his mother sometimes, just before she threw a plate at him or grabbed him by the hair. It scared him worse than he'd ever been here. Monsters, fighting, experiments, these were things that could not be helped; it was instinct or human greed or other such logical things that could be organized into boxes and tucked away. A person like Misaki, however, could not be categorized or understood or even helped. And Ritsuka now feared that Albedo might be like her.

Still, he hovered and waited. Even as Albedo grew still and refused to talk, Ritsuka waited. It was just like with her... He could only wait for the attack that would come, stay still and bear it, then wait for her to leave because that was what she needed. Fighting back would only break her more than she was already broken.

"There's nothing wrong. You know... I won't hurt you. You know that, Ritsuka? Right?"

He smiled, but Ritsuka didn't smile back. Those words were echoes of the past washing back over him in waves of pain that cut deeper than any knife. But somewhere in him, there was relief, too. He recognized these words and so he knew how to deal with them. Slowly, he lowered his hands and tried to ease himself back into his chair - slow movements so as not to startle, smooth enough to look natural, well-practiced so he could run if something came at him.

"...I know, Albedo." I know, Mother. "I know you won't hurt me."

But....

"....Are you alright? I didn't mean to hurt you."

If Albedo's fracture had been from his own design, he would have noted Ritsuka's movements, noticed and took them as something despised. It reeked of caution, of fear, and he wanted nothing of it. Not from this one. But this break was not under Albedo's control. And despite himself, the even tones, the quiet and steady movements, worked near effortlessly. Albedo's gaze was allowed to slip from the other boy, reassured too easily by the other's apparent calm.

...And he should have seen through it. He should have noticed the minute--the spaces left between, but he did not. A wonderment in that. Possibly a repetition of habit despite everything he had gone through. If you didn't see the possibility of pain, of rejection, there stood a chance it did not exist in its entirety.

Still, though. Still, Rubedo had walked away.

"You didn't--" Hurt him? Had he been hurt? Albedo cocked his head at his hand, palming looking back at him. He poked the skin idly, but nothing happened. What had been that sensation? "It was nothing you did." The boy clenched his fingers then stretched them out and still nothing called as different. He frowned downward, then looked at Ritsuka curiously, eyes echoing a bit blank. Then held out his hand, as if repeating the conduct would end differently this time.

Two points, of course. The definition of insanity came with repetition, and expecting different outcomes to the same scenario. Yet, still, science hinged on that aspect--of experiments and testing, and holding firm data in multiples instead of a solitary insistence. He felt sick, completely, but nothing showed that. No. Nothing showed.

Ritsuka didn't understand how Albedo being hurt like that couldn't be anything but his fault. It had been after touching him that Albedo had reacted as if he'd been shot. The pain had been obvious, an instinctual reaction that anyone would have recognized. Ritsuka had experienced terrible pain before and he recognized the look of it on Albedo's face, no matter how brief it had been. And now? Now there was no trace of it. The lingering ache that should have existed seemed to be either missing or manageable and Ritsuka watched Albedo cautiously as he tested his hand.

And then he reached out to him again.

Ritsuka stared at Albedo's hand, knowing what he wanted and at the same time, knowing he could not consciously acquiesce. Even if it wasn't his fault before, he knew now. To reach out and touch Albedo again while knowing it could cause him pain would be the same as raining blows upon him. Ritsuka could not do that. He could never consciously harm someone, especially not a friend.

He shook his head then and lowered his eyes. "...If it hurt you again... I can't...I'm sorry."

There was silence, and hesitation, and still Albedo waited for the answer either way. There was infinite patience in one who had all of the time in all worlds, despite the impatience that flows like blood through him at other times. He waited, and stared, and Ritsuka looked away, spoke softly.

Albedo blinked. And then blinked again. And there was something of himself peeking upwards now, something that watched Ritsuka with wide eyes. It was care, in the end, that would always affect. Care and concern would trace more fiercely than he could say, when it came as real, actual, genuine. And here was the shock to the senses, like and unlike Nigredo in the solitary cell, stopping Albedo's hand from crushing his throat. "Do you really want to kill me? I'll let you." No, he wouldn't-- Not now, and not-- here.

He blinked again, and shook his head slightly, clearing the remnants from his mind. "Then don't," he said softly, firmly, as he drew his hand back. Albedo nodded once, keeping his eyes on the other boy. "We'll agree. To not hurt each other."

A promise he had only given to one other. But what other would act as Ritsuka did? Denying this for the simple fact of withholding so he wasn't in pain. It was so outrageous, so entirely unexpected. What was... What kind of person....

He couldn't even think. He found himself smiling softly, and his gaze flicked down.

"Then don't."

The resolution in Albedo's voice along with his words served to calm Ritsuka's nerves finally, helping him lift his eyes again to look at his friend. Not like Misaki. Albedo would never be like Misaki. Ritsuka loved her with all his heart, but he knew she didn't love him in the way a parent should. Her heart was broken and incapable of feeling normal parental love anymore. Now all that remained was possession, grief, fear, anger and loss, the mourning of a woman who had lost both her sons and the indignation upon seeing an imposter in his place. Albedo wouldn't be like her. He was an entirely different person. Ritsuka had to remember that.

It was easy, seeing how he smiled. Ritsuka watched him for a moment, wondering at how they had become such friends, but deciding the how didn't matter. They were friends now and they would stay that way as long as they could.

"Alright. Agreed," he said, letting himself smile a bit for Albedo, too. After a pause, he picked up his fork and motioned to Albedo's plate. "Now eat. That's our other promise and I won't let you forget that."

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Day 58: Cafeteria

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