damned_institute | Day 58: Men's Showers (Fourth Shift)

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Day 58: Men's Showers (Fourth Shift)

The place was full of starry eyed heroes with hearts of gold. Perhaps not so much starry-eyed, he guessed. Just eager to please. Eager to help. Peter could count himself among those numbers on good day. At the moment, he had about had his fill from everyone else.

Maybe not for the bitter reasons of before. Sam was right: he had to spill some beans or he was going to go insane, push himself off a deep end. There had been plenty of close calls with that back home, and he hated to think how he would have ever gotten by without MJ to confide in. It was just that today, he was done with confessing. Drained. It took a lot out of him to keep crying on every offered shoulder and keep pushing through the story of how he'd brutalized Indiana Jones. It took even more to be the one with the wet shoulder when Jessica went into hysterics over hallucinations. To try and coax a genuine emotion from Sakura. Sam, at least, hadn't had anything to say about himself. Probably because he figured that being ten years older made it inappropriate to be confiding issues in Peter (which he was right about, to some extent.)

And it was for that reason that when he caught Scott Pilgrim's eye at the end of lunch, Peter had bolted in the opposite direction. Bad enough that he had to work through the people he had today, but Scott would just be the final straw. Screaming hit his ears too in between Indy's death rattles, screaming that suddenly stopped short as the man fell on stone seats and clutched his throat. Screaming the name in horror when the kick landed. Peter was not ready to sit down with someone who had been there. Especially not Scott. Never Scott.

Honestly, Peter would be shocked if he could ever manage talking to them again. A brief but bitter exchange with Sangamon earlier today was the only attempt thus far, and Peter hadn't started that one. Though he had cut it short.

Shedding clothes and padding over wet tile was perfunctory by now. Showers were welcome today. For once.

[For Edward Cullen.]

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The day was half over. Half over. That seemed a small favor, because by the time the shower shift had rolled around, Edward was already completely exhausted. It wasn't only Bella he had to worry over now. While he had witnessed much more emotion from Venom than the man had ever meant for him to see, Edward had not realized how fragile he was. If he was still human, he probably would have been just as horrified as Venom was. Murder of an innocent, regardless of whether it was in self-defense or not, was an abominable crime.

It took much more effort than Edward wanted to admit for him to care.

Which sounded monstrous. It very much was. He wasn't even that old by vampire standards, but he had been subject to enough death that one did not seem to count for very much anymore. Many of the deaths he had seen had been by his own hand. While none of them had been innocent people, it was still murder at the end of the day. More accurately: slaughter. He had never really had regrets, either. Not for the sake of those he had killed. He never regretted ridding the world of such evil minds.

Or that was what he tried to tell himself. He knew perfectly well it wasn't true.

Bella had definitely changed him; whether for the better or for the worse in most aspects, he couldn't say. He wanted to believe it was better. Before her, he would not have been able to be friends with anyone like Venom, and he certainly wouldn't have cared whether the man was upset or not. He would not have cared about anything except getting out. Funny how priorities change.

After all of that blood that had been in Venom's memories - wasted a stray thought hissed - he was not looking forward to being stuck in a literal hotbox of human scents for any amount of time. The blood Bella had gotten for him was long past due for being thrown out, and he hardly had the heart anymore to force himself to drink rotting, congealed blood in a plastic bottle.

Unfortunately, there was no alternative that did not involve almost getting eaten himself.

He was surprised then to smell something that was not the normal beating blood of humans, amplified by the moist air. He undressed quickly, leaving his old clothes behind to take a close, open stall. It was definitely a different scent; sour, maybe. Bitter.

And it was coming from a small, heavily scarred boy that he had unfortunately chosen to shower beside. He looked like he might have been through several fires, and perhaps a war and a half. Despite the sheer amount of wounds, the one that stuck out most to Edward was a large bite on the right side of his neck.

His only thought was, "Why would anything want to eat someone who smelled like insects?"

If only there was a social convention for asking why he did smell like that. There wasn't a trace of the familiar smells of blood. Whoever this boy was, he may as well have been filled with mantis innards. While it was an intriguing thought, he was also a suitable person to be near when Edward was already very, very thirsty.

He wasn't so much put out by the larger figure sidling up next to him - in spite of them being literally two of three people in the showers right now so he could have chosen any stall he wanted - but by the fact that he could feel his eyes on him. Peter kept his gaze forward, but his shoulders began to hunch and he retreated by an inch. He knew he was scarred up the wazoo and freshly bandaged to boot, but really? That covered just about anyone who had been here more than a day. There was no point in staring like this jackass was. He was not in the mood for swapping war wound stories.

Oh yeah, I got this beauty here because every time people see someone in a spandex suit they think "I need to hit that with lasers."

Not that much of the laser shots could be seen anymore. They left more subtle marks, and Peter had been burned by real fire a little too often since then for the eyes to stray elsewhere first. He wasn't on Harvey's level, not even close, but he still was reluctant to take his top off on the best of days.

Though frankly, this guy was one to talk if that was why he came over. From the hasty flick over that he allowed himself, the main impression was of burns, heavy bruises on the collar bone, and a pretty face. (Of course.) The guy was about as well off as he was, and while normally that would be a cause for concern Peter just did not have it in him today. Neither curiousity nor sympathy.

He claimed an extra inch to the right, away from the taller boy, and focused resolutely on getting as clean as possible as quickly as possible. It would be easier to get cornered by someone like Scott once he hit the Sun Room, but lingering here meant there was a startlingly real possibility someone would put on their worry brow and start asking about the freshly dressed bullet skims on his side.

And he was done talking about that.

Edited 2011-08-31 06:34 (UTC)

Well, he certainly knew what topic to avoid now, as curious as he was. That was a strange thought. He wanted to start a conversation in the first place. His excuse was going to remain that he was distinctly ignoring social conventions. Starting a conversation with someone while nude was usually a bad idea, but.

Call him curious. Even if the victim of his curiousity was in the age bracket of his body.

Well. Round two of taking chances. Go.

"You don't happen to know The Flash, do you? He wears spandex, too. I don't know if lasers are as big a problem for as they seem to be for you, however."

A phenomenally smooth voice (why was he even surprised) drawled beside him, curious and completely uninvited. Peter's instinctive reaction was to flatly tell him, "Shut up, I'm naked," and go about his business. But that notion fizzled out in half a nanosecond when a few key words cropped up. Spandex. Lasers.

"The Fla-...what?" Suddenly Peter couldn't pay attention to anything but the boy beside him, craning his neck and gaping. "What?"

For the first time that day, the stab of his gut abated. Not by much, but by enough to let bewilderment in. And fear. Where did this guy get 'spandex' from? Lasers? Excuse him for freaking out, but it was rather hard not to when Spider-Man had twenty bounties on his head by now. It was one thing accidentally confessing to Sam earlier - and he stuck by what he'd thought there, that his precocious secret identity counted for a total of jack shit now - but it was another thing entirely for someone to stroll straight up to him and start spewing that kind of crap. He was from a comic book. An American one, so they didn't even have the funky one-of-a-kind neon hairstyles to identify him with. He knew enough about comic art to know there was no way anyone could identify him by facial features alone.

So...what?! What was this guy, who was this guy, and when could Peter get away from this constant stream of potential heart attacks that was Landel's Institute?

His brows settled for a strange fusion of quizzically raised and a perturbed scowl, and Peter shook his head. Looked back at the wall and snatched the conditioner even though he'd yet to wash the shampoo from his hair. Get out now before he starts something. "Sorry. Dunno what you're talking about."

That was unfortunate. Wally had taken it a lot smoother.

Spider-Man. It was a very good thing Edward was an accomplished poker player by name alone. His inner, boyish glee was cleverly hidden behind a polite facade. That explained the smell. And wow, was that ever a strange thing to think. He could ignore the sad attempt at brushing the subject off. "I thought I might skip the ice breaker for once. Telepath, if you must know." He might as well be straight to the point if he was taking risks. He could've done a lot worse.

A mention of a Sam. He wondered if it was the same man who he had had an unfortunate run-in - literally - with. The institute was a small world, after all.

Spider-Man. Maybe one day he would meet Batman. That would be utterly fascinating, to be honest. At the very least, his run-ins with Wally had already exhausted his reserves of shock and awe.

"I don't mean to alarm you. My apologies. I'm just - I suppose it's a little awkward to call myself a fan?" A pause, in which he stared at the shower's dial. "Nevermind, that was incredibly awkward. I think I'm making the situation worse at this point."

"...Oh." Cheeks turned red, and not from the steam. Peter stared shamefully at his feet. "Okay, that makes more sense. -Ish." He should have seen that coming, what with the mention of lasers and his thinking of them precisely three seconds prior. Blame it on muddled reasoning. Not like he didn't have the excuse today.

The last time he had met a telepath - or, okay, the first time he had met a telepath - it had been bubbly Jean Grey. It was a power Peter had always thought would wind up as a real nuisance. Jean even had to commend him on being the first guy she met that didn't immediately picture her naked. Then of course he couldn't do anything but, and...

Wait wait wait no why was he picturing this guy naked now?!

...This guy was naked!!

The red drained from his face as it returned to ashen grey, but nobody would see the change from under the pair of hands that had been slapped over it. If one listened closely to the words leaking out from under them, they could hear the hushed but fervent mantra of 'Devil be gone, devil be gone, devil be gone!"

"No...'snot awkward at all..." squeaked the voice. The mantra took the backseat and carried on in his mind, where the boy would no doubt hear every single word of it and see the sordid images it tried to banish. There was no winning with telepaths, frick it all. "I've met a few guys..."

That he was avoiding from here on out. But not because they had read the comics. Not anymore.

Edward imagined it wouldn't really make Peter feel any better to know he was not the first person to imagine him naked, and that was including the people who also knew he was a telepath. If anything, Tanya had always used it to taunt him, if not outright attempt to seduce him.

Not that was the same as a small, awkward teenager noting how naked he was.

Anyway. Time to focus on how nice it was that out of the two superheroes he had met, they had both met telepaths before. And, for the most part, were not particularly perturbed by the ability in general. That was a lot more than he had ever expected home. Or in general, actually. The only one who had reacted very well about it was Aro. Aro was... Aro.

"That's..." Was that a mantra? "That's, ah, interesting. I can't say I've known anyone with something similar."

"Yeah, well. Comic books." Peter remarked bitterly. The phrase set his jaw tight. The guy could probably taste the deeply icky feelings this subject gave him, he was feeling them so hard. Telepathy must be a mutual violation that way. (Naked visuals had yet to evacuate the building, fyi.) "There's a new yutz in a unitard popping up on Fifth Avenue every Tuesday, so I imagine at least one out of eight can hijack your train of thought."

And the mook would get his own series and a roster of z-list villains, and oh, the adventures they'd have causing mayhem and saving damsels on a monthly and ever so marketable basis.

For the first time ever, Peter imagined that it might be better if he didn't go home. They couldn't sell Spider-Man comics without Spider-Man. And in that case, there wouldn't be any crazy mishaps and whatever regularly scheduled chaos there was would stay well out of Queens and away from his Aunt and girlfriend. After last night it almost seemed a kindness to them to stay away. Honestly. Trouble trailed after him because he was supposed to punch it out and make a fun show of it for the kids. The less people he involved in that crap, the better.

Really, truly better. Someone should have warned Indy about that. Uncle Ben. Gwen, Harry.

...And he was forgetting he was standing next to a guy who could hear his internal monologuing. Approximately fourty three seconds after he was informed of that fact. Peter winced further and pinched at his nose, the soap suds from his hair trickling down and tumbling off the bridge. "Sorry dude, just...not a good time to be in my head."

That was a little ruder than Aunt May would approve of. Far more, actually. Forgive him for not being in the mood to give two craps about Mystery Mind Cracker over here, okay? He was about done with today as it was. Done with Landel's as a whole, and ready to just rip down every frigging wall in the place and watch the whole thing crumble into ruin.

Then quite suddenly, a bright thought occurred to Peter. On delay, because he'd had all the information he needed at the beginning of this conversation, but even that spark of stupidity didn't stop him from suddenly gaping or whipping around to snatch the boy's shoulder -

- aaaand he'd forgotten about the naked and wet thing so he let go pretty much instantly, but the eager idea remained undaunted. "Wait - okay so, you can read minds. Literally. Like, everything? Images, memory, the works? There's no restrictions on you right now?"

Lunch hadn't been quite what Sora would have expected, but even though the guy he'd met had been really nervous, he had still been very nice! There was no reason to judge him for getting excited easily or fumbling with his words. Maybe he would calm down if they spoke again?

That was something that Sora would have to look into later, though. The last day of the shift had come, which meant that it was time to shower. Having slowly adapted to the way that they were all forced into the room at the same time here, Sora was quick to toss off his uniform and wash off. The warm water felt really nice, though part of him wished that he could have been cleaning himself under a waterfall back on the islands.

No point in dwelling on that, though. He still had that coconut to eat with Kairi, which would probably help with his homesickness a little. Though now they might just have to be nice and share with Riku too. Though if Sora stopped with the teasing, he had to admit that he would be more than happy to, seeing how it meant that his friend was back.

He'd caught sight of the bulletin post that his friend had made earlier and from the looks of it they weren't going to be checking out the basement. Not immediately, anyway. It was better to try other things -- those less traveled paths -- and then go from there.

Once Sora had cleaned his body and put some of that shampoo into his hair and rinsed it out, he shut off the shower and headed back into the other room to dry off and change.

[To here.]

Edited 2011-08-30 19:28 (UTC)

He almost lost Peter as they left the cafeteria again; the other boy moving almost as fast as possible while trying to avoid attracting too much attention. He wasn't certain what it may have been in that conversation that had made Peter leave so quickly, or if it were something else entirely, but Brainiac 5 wasn't willing to lose sight of his roommate and friend just yet. Something was wrong and it was suddenly more important to find an answer to that than it was to find an answer to the institute itself or an escape from their imprisonment.

Fortunately there was one place where both Peter and the Coluan himself were required and expected to be this shift, and when Brainiac 5 entered the showers, he was relieved to see that they were both largely empty and that Peter was still here.

Unfortunately there was someone else with him already, so even if he had wanted to talk to his friend about today, it wasn't possible. But they'd be speaking with each other soon enough, and perhaps Brainiac 5 could catch Peter's attention when it was time to return to their room and they could walk back together.

With that in mind, he slipped into a shower nearby, close enough that he could keep an eye on the other boy but hopefully not so much to be obviously watchin--

It was about then that he realised that Peter was, as he himself was (although he was trying not to pay too much attention to that detail), naked. Which only made sense considering that they were bathing themselves but... Peter without clothing on wasn't something he'd considered in too much detail, and now he was suddenly torn between watching as he'd planned and giving Peter some privacy.

...even if it was proving difficult to look away. He hadn't realised exactly how many scars his friend had.

[Free and creeping on Peter. So much creeping on Peter. T__T]

Goku loved this time of the day! He could get rid of all his clothes and run around naked and no one said anything about it. The young boy rushed into the locker room and quickly did a somersault across the floor. It helped dislodge his clothes that more quickly, he discovered. With everything completely shed, Goku was ready to go!

Not bothering to actually pick them up off the floor, he sailed into the steaming showers as quickly as his little legs could carry him. There were only a few guys (he finally realized it was only guys after the first few trips) in the showers by the time he arrived, but no one he knew. He was happy to stare and smile and wave to people anyway! They usually never responded or moved, but it didn't matter to Goku. Most seemed content to get in and get out as fast as they could, but there was one person, Goku noticed, who wasn't exactly cleaning himself. He was watching someone else, so Goku happily watched the person watch the other person.

It wasn't very stimulating, though. Eventually, Goku grew weary of it and greeted the yellow-haired man instead. "Hi!"

[Goku's about 3'5", just for reference. He usually comes up to to mid-thigh or waist on most people.]

Whoever Peter was talking to must have said something surprising, because his roommate was staring in shock and something that might have been... fear? It was difficult to tell and very short-lived, so he wasn't certain if he'd placed the expression correctly--

A voice sounded behind him, and Brainiac 5 jumped and twisted sharply to see... nothing. Which wasn't a logical conclusion to come to after hearing someone speak, so there was clearly another explanation.

He looked down.

There was a very short, oddly cheerful-looking boy watching him, completely naked and not the slightest bit concerned about that fact. The Coluan shifted uncomfortably, wondering if he could conclude this exchange quickly and return to his more important task of trying to figure out what was bothering his friend.

"...hello? Is there something you wanted?"

Goku swiftly greeted the man again, eager to hold a conversation even if it was just a slew of "Hi"s and "Hello"s. But there was question that came along with it and he was more than happy to answer. "Wanted? Uhmmmm..." The young boy's big, vacant glazed over as he rubbed his chin in serious thought. Then, as if a spark of electricity had shot through his body, Goku stilled and came to his conclusion.

"Nope!" he said, smiling like the shameless fool he was. His short arms cradled the back of his head as he swayed back and forth without a care in the world.

"You're watchin' that other guy!" Goku had only two volumes: Loud and louder. It was possible that everyone in the shower had heard it, but it didn't stop Goku. In fact, he pointed in the brunette's direction just to drive home his point, you know, in case the blond was having a hard time following him. "Why's that? Ya know him? It's kinda creepy!" Despite the honest admission, Goku laughed all the same.

Brainiac 5 jumped, his face flushing hot as he fought the instinct to turn and stare at Peter as the odd boy spoke up. He had to remain nonchalant, unaffected. It would be immediately damning to turn and look at Peter after that, even if he did desperately want to know if his friend had heard and what he might think.

"No," he answered, doing his best to keep his voice level despite how his heart was racing. "I'm not watching anyone, you're simply mistaken. It's possible that you saw me looking around and came to the wrong conclusion, that's all."

He finished that last part with a note of finality that he hoped would make it perfectly clear that he meant it when he said that was all. Unfortunately being naked in the showers didn't really offer many other conversational options, and he didn't want to simply leave while Peter remained, so the Coluan busied himself with trying to bathe. Perhaps if he was lucky, the boy would get the hint and leave him be here so that he could go back to trying to listen to Peter's conversation.

"Oh... Really?" Goku asked skeptically, leaning over once more to take a quick peak at the man in question. His big vacant eyes turned back to Brainy, then to Peter, and finally remained on the blond man in front of him. He studied him long and hard until the boy finally said, "Alright then!" smiling like a fool.

"But man! That fella's got a lotta scars! He must be a really strong fighter! Do you fight?" His head tilted comically to the side. "Yer kinda skinny..."

Trying to stand there without seeming overly interested while the boy proceeded to stare at Peter and then himself and then back again had to be one of the more difficult things the Coluan had done recently. It took more control over himself than he'd thought necessary just to stop himself from turning to stare at Peter as well.

Or, failing that, running from the room and the strange, potentially slow boy. He was almost surprised when he suddenly found himself under scrutiny again (while still naked, which made it all the more awkward). Brainiac 5 knew he had all the right... parts, for a human. The only truly unusual thing was the markings on his face, so he couldn't understand why he needed to be stared at like that.

Fortunately it didn't last much longer before the boy was asking questions again. Since escape didn't seem possible, Brainiac 5 supposed this was preferable to being stared at.

"....yes, he does..." He risked a glance back at Peter before looking away again, heat rising to his face.

"I'm not prepared for combat situations here. It's... beyond my capabilities now. But I do know that he-" He glanced back at Peter again. "-Is a true hero. That's why he has so many scars."

"A true hero..." Goku tasted the words on his own tongue. He had never heard that kind of explanation for scars. He didn't scar, but the ones who did were always very violent people. Some good-hearted, some bad-hearted, but fighting was present in both. It made Goku wonder why he didn't scar. Was he not heoric or violent enough?

That couldn't be right! He couldn't begin to count how many people he had defeated in his short lifetime. Of course, he could barely count past ten, but still!

"I fight a lotta people, but I don't scar..." Goku said as he looked up at the blond man, expecting him to insert an answer after his strange comment. "Ha!" No, he took that back. "I do have one." the young boy turned around and patted his butt. "I gotta scar where my tail is or... Was. It doesn't like comin' out in the day..."

"It's not about fighting people," Brainiac 5 answered immediately. "It's about protecting others. That's what heroes do. Sometimes that involves fighting, but it doesn't have to."

He had no doubt in his mind that Peter's scars were more likely from doing things like saving others. Not just running around getting into fights as the boy seemed to think.

Caught up in speculation involving Peter's body and what he could see of it now and what sort of undoubtedly heroic things he could imagine the other boy involved in, it took Brainiac 5 a moment to notice what the boy with him now had mentioned.

"You used to have a tail? I'm guessing you weren't human before now, then, Mr...?"

The auspicious mood that had once been so pronounced was gone, replaced by anxiety and a fading regard of self. He had hoped to resolve the contention between a brother and another and had ultimately succeeded on one end, but Nigredo had not considered the cost of exploring the subject. Of course. Of course. Death would be preferred over harming a sibling. Furthermore, he had no mind to touch the eldest for the span of his lifetime.

But what good was that? Nigredo couldn't control it. Couldn't even begin to speculate how Executioner resided within him. If not for the limitations of this place, it might have activated. Every time he was threatened by a malevolent U.R.T.V., it might have stripped him of will.

Here, then, was the worst of fears, of probability. If not for another's purpose, would he have harmed his brothers more? In the lobby to the entrance? The hallway by his room? The night reeking of U-DO and the Song? He didn't want to hurt them, but nothing of his own faculties could prevent a mistake. Was it so terrible to emphasize that Nigredo was the true danger to them? He knew more than any other how close that had cut.

For being the man beneath his skin.

He caught his heel nervously on the tile, stumbling forward into the bathroom. A nearby guard caught his arm and righted the boy's position with a gruff mumble. "Pay attention to where you're going," he added, waving a dismissive hand.

Nigredo ducked his head and apologized, before rushing to the lockers in uneven steps. The desire to finish the day overwhelmed all else, although that, too, brought along its own complications. Whatever. It didn't matter. Just get out of here quickly.

He threw his belongings into a pile and padded into the shower area. Waterproof wrappings made showering acceptable, but the placement of his injuries killed any chance of actual cleaning. He moved too slowly for his own liking, couldn't reach beyond the level of his shoulders without wincing, and eventually, he decided he couldn't accomplish his own apathetic motives. Thus, Nigredo stayed as he was, eyes locked on the dispenser ahead, thoughts flitting between points.

[That gay incest fiend.]

There was little on Albedo's mind as he moved to continue the day. A lack and react, that, and here existed the remains of something still fading. Interacting with Ritsuka, the rhetoric with Yomi, the dealings on the board in a assorted amount of ways. All things had a point, in the end, and even with his game, and his seemingly blatant way of pointing out that he was only bored had been a determent. Albedo's interest extended to a select few. Knowing the weaknesses and priorities of any others existed as nothing to care about, in the end. However, here is how things stood. The boy understood the amount of control in information, and allowing weapons or institute facts for that information was a fair trade.

More than fair, in one way or the other. Perhaps it was because of that, that Albedo held to no prominent emotions when he entered. Was only quiet and subdued, in a way of internal thought rather than hidden pain. For what could he complain about in the past twenty-four hours at the least? And even before that, really--there was no trauma to sink into the remains of his soul. Things were evening around him, and with that, Albedo was finding a balance at well.

It was a little funny, in the end, and he smirked to himself, trodding forward.

To, of course, instantly lock on the form of his younger brother, a mixture of relief and comfort pressed against a cool anger and predatory disturbance. There existed no hesitation at the least. Albedo strode to where Nigredo stood, pausing in front of him with a hand resting on a hip. He had had half a mind to provoke Nigredo into touching him, but Nigredo looked a bit too miserable to play with. Albedo tilted his head, allowing a flash of warmth to slip into the still expression he wore. "Hello, brother."

A greeting offered in warm tones and countenance worked well enough to distract Nigredo from his despondency. He lifted his eyes to the greeter, taking note of features and conditions. Albedo looked healthy, bordering lucid, and the younger wondered if he had an uneventful schedule the night before and the day after. Hopefully without any incident, but this was the middle child. He and his twin had a habit for trouble.

Nigredo smiled at the passing memory and his brother, for once setting aside his issues for reasons other than to hide himself. "Hello," he returned. The expression waned to something soft. "Are you doing well?"

His expression slid more amused. "Better than you, it seems," he said with no real heat. He smiled at Nigredo sincerely, then faced the shower, moving through the motions of cleanliness with little attention to it. When he was mostly done, he spoke up quietly. "Listen, Nigredo."

Albedo peered over to his brother, then shifted to face him again. His eyes dropped self-consciously, then he looked up again. "...You're not Rubedo. I know that." Sincere gratitute or apologies were never easily voiced, and here it remained the same. The link vibrated slightly between them, an emotion of apology pressing along it.

"As always," Nigredo retorted evenly, one good shoulder rolling in a shrug. He meant nothing by the comment, of course. Just a passing jest, remnant of an earlier state of mind. "I'm glad, though." Green eyes returned to the dispenser ahead, before the child took pains to try and get himself clean. Staring dumbly while one's sibling finished his task was both fruitless and callous. And he didn't want to be either.

It was while attempting a lackluster job of cleaning that Nigredo's brother spoke once more. Wondering at the source, the younger turned to the other with a curious glance. "Yes?" he asked, tone expectant.

Another's name and an acknowledgement caused his heart to skip in its palpitations, the memories involved resulting in perfect recall. His face paled, locking in another form of shock. Tolerance playing at love, and then only hate, only apathy from a source that you existed for. And Nigredo was not that, in a way the brothers agreed now.

He hadn't thought Albedo would mention it. He had assumed the other believed the words he had spoken: a love was a love until it died. With a brother as the cause. The apology, therefore, seemed almost too much. It rang with enough sincerity to herald doubt, and Nigredo did not know how to respond. "I..." He managed a shaky breath. "I didn't think...you would..."

Apologize. For something spoken in complete belief.

Really? Shock, brother mine? Was it so unbelievable for Albedo to be kind--little brother already knew that Albedo could hold regrets for things done and said; actions too close to the opposite of feeling for him to resent their existence and his role in their creation. An eyebrow quirked in amused affection, and he reached a hand out to touch Nigredo's hair--then pulled back halfway with a sigh. "Because I'm so cruel, hmm?"

He peered at his brother, not really upset in expression. "I do pay attention to you, you know. And I consider when I've done wrong." Right and wrong might have different definitions with Albedo than with others, but they held all the same--more and more, less and less, more-so now with a steady contact with a sibling, and interactions with ones called friends. Albedo sighed again--something in Nigredo's reaction, the complete show of emotion, relaxed him, smoothed him. For his brother had been upset over that, and so it was right for Albedo to not let it go. He gave a half-smile, the expression tired. "Is it all right?"

Now? Between them? How things stood? Or was there more to do, to say, before they would get anywhere near to it. Albedo was trying, and he would continue to do so.

Edited 2011-09-03 19:08 (UTC)

Cruelty wasn't the case here--far from it, if Nigredo was allowed to be truthful. And truth he tried to convey to the best of his ability. He turned to fully face Albedo as the other retracted his hand, both acts a demand for attention. "No, that's not it." Not in the slightest. "You meant what you said. You shouldn't apologize for--"

Nigredo paused abruptly, green eyes drifting to focus on a wall. "For my reaction." To assume the other was drawing comparisons between brothers. He must have been mistaken. "It wasn't wrong," he concluded softly, "so it's fine." He had enough fractures to recognize where interpretations had ceased their objectivity, and he wasn't so terribly sad to hold to those words.

A shudder ran through his spine, and without warning, he was nervous. Rather than stifling the reaction, however, Nigredo went with whim and followed through. "I will always love you." There was effort in the words, an admittance given freely but locked in hesitance for reasons unseen. "Is that hard to believe, Albedo?"

Albedo tilted his head only, watching. "It was wrong," he said blatantly, ignoring the attempts. "Why would I want you to feel like that? When I just said, didn't I? You're not Rubedo." He made a wistful expression, but it was hard to determine why. "You've been there for me. You've cared for me. You..."

Love him. As his brother would say now.

Albedo sighed, but not for lack. Nigredo had given things freely in the exchange, nerves and tensing alike. And so he would be rewarded for that with like, despite the dance that should accompany. "It's not that," he said quietly. Then looked at his sibling carefully. His eyes rose to the ceiling in thought, then returned downward. Strangely enough, he shrugged. "When it's just you, I understand. I understand how hurt you've been, and how deep your devotion goes. I know how fiercely you can love, and how intensely your need flows."

Said without pride or recrimination. Said as simply as facts, without asking for forgiveness. "It's when we're apart. When I start to think that you may love me, but it may be that you do because I'm all that's left. You may love me, but I wouldn't be what you choose."

He was quiet, watched, eyes discerning. "But you think that, too. Don't you?"

The younger fell silent, comprehension present yet lacking definitive hold. He didn't think Albedo was wrong, and here, the albino would claim exactly that. Why would I want you to feel like that? As a reminder, Nigredo had assumed, of the wrongs brothers had wrought upon the middle child. But it wasn't that at all, apparently.

Despite the threat that Nigredo was to Albedo (to Rubedo), he did not follow in the eldest's footsteps. Albedo acknowledged that here, and though Nigredo wanted to believe the other thought otherwise, he accepted the statement as it stood and wondered all the same. He watched his brother through the spray.

The other continued, detailing motives belonging to Nigredo that he himself had not known. Not fully, at any rate. Although this might have called for a lessening of fear, the child only felt it spike in anticipation. Discernment such as this spoke of something more than simple empathy, and if Albedo would give his reasons, Nigredo might as well try the same.

"I just know how much you love Rubedo," he whispered, the tone lifeless. "That's why I think you wouldn't." Choose me, he indicated with a free hand.

As he thought, then. They were both caught in the grip of that. And with no way to tell one way or the other. Both would continue to doubt even as they loved, and both would end up rotting even with the best intentions. And he couldn't say that was wanted. No, at this point, he couldn't say that was wholly wanted at all.

His eyes flashed at his twin's name, and then they dropped to the floor. How much he loved Rubedo. How much he hated Rubedo. Wasn't it the same thing? He felt sick, and now Nigredo was the cause. The boy glanced up at his brother. "Love," he said quietly, "is only one half of the equation."

There was a beat, and then Albedo walked away with nothing more. He didn't consider how it might seem--all he understood now is what needed to happen to go forward, and it wasn't something that could take place in a shower. He returned with a cloth, soaked it and mixed soap, then raised his hand to his brother's hair, moving the cloth through it.

Not the same, but close. Enough for a mirror to form, a comparison where it wasn't wanted.

Nigredo wondered how a statement proclaiming 'love' and a twin's name would be taken. Though, he found himself hardly surprised when Albedo's eyes flashed violet. When the other uttered a retort and moved to walk away, he was already resigned to showering alone.

"Right..." Apologies could wait. Albedo likely had no want in continuing a discussion.

Imagine his shock when his brother returned, a cloth in hand. Before a single reaction could be given, the cloth went to his hair and through the strands, ultimately resulting in the oddest and most awkward hair wash of his entire life. Nigredo practically gaped at Albedo, before sputtering on the soap that managed to sneak around his lips.

"Uh, Albedo?" He paused to spit out foam. "What are you doing?"

Edited 2011-09-06 03:24 (UTC)

He had no ears for his brother's half-hearted agreement; he was already gone and returned in that time. The cloth thoroughly slid through Nigredo's hair and scalp and moved downward around his neck. "Mm?" he intoned, half-focused on the curve of his brother's neck. His eyes flicked to Nigredo neutrally. "You can't reach, can you?"

He gave a sigh, then continued with his efforts. "The faster you're clean, the faster we can go elsewhere. The cloth is a bit annoying, but...." But bare hands could not be used. Not currently. He gave an idle grin. "You don't mind, do you?"

The response came as astute observation: Nigredo had found it difficult to stretch a hand beyond his shoulders. Having another clean him, then, was really the fastest way for the boy to finish. He eyed the cloth at the base of his neck, wondering vaguely if Albedo was being helpful, comforting, or both. "No, I can't," he admitted, "but..." But he didn't know what else to say.

Instead, the child turned a shade of red from self-consciousness. Green eyes lowered to the space of Albedo's chest. "I don't mind."

The cloth moved down Nigredo's neck to touch shoulders, gently caressing the bare skin it touched. Nigredo was turning a lovely shade of red, seemingly shy from the ministrations. It was charming, really. A bit enticing in all honesty. Soap trailed down in rivets from the cloth, moving slowly against flesh as it worked its way downward. A picture for any other time, other age, and one might imagine lips following hands, tongue following the trail water left down Nigredo's body.

Another time, then.

Albedo tilted his head to survey his work then nodded in satisfaction. "Come on, then. I want to try something," the child said before heading out of the room.

[to here]

Niikura had not really learned much from his tenure in this place other than the fact that people from Los Angeles were weird. Honestly, he could just meet one and expect them to be not only a member of law enforcement, but to also have some sort of bizarre quirk. Granted, there were a few exceptions, but the only memorable ones--well, that was circularly intuitive. Of course the memorable ones would be the quirky ones.

It just went to show how much he needed a nap, or a conversation where he didn't have to deal with people turning into turtles, old friends, or Gant.

Unfortunately, Gant was exactly the person he was meant to be speaking to this shift. With a groan, Niikura undressed and proceeded to tear through his shower at lightning speed, wincing every so often as soap collided with still-healing cuts. Just running from one thing to another...heh, there really was no rest for the wicked.

He dried off as quickly as he could and struggled back into his uniform before walking briskly out of the shower, trying his best to look casual and composed and totally unaffected by the way his beret was crushing his spikes.

[to here (http://damned.livejournal.com/1156258.html?thread=79743394#t79743394)]

A quick bath was all he needed. Wash himself and his hair, towel dry and walk out. Normally he liked the showers. It was a time to be by himself and to sort out everything that had happened in the days prior. It was calming and since he was used to bathing everyday, it was something of a relief, too. Today, however? He wanted to get it done as quickly as possible and leave.

To be honest, he simply didn't want to stay somewhere his vision would be so limited.

Ever since the morning, he'd been seeing things - moving shadows, giant spiders, eyeless monstrosities, faceless glowing abominations. They'd been coming out at him from doorways, staring at him from under tables, taking swings at him as he passed by other patients, and it was frankly getting tiring. During the day, he knew it would be okay. The other patients weren't screaming about monsters now, but at night...

If it stuck with him until the night, what would he do? He couldn't just sit in his room all night, but going out could be stupid at this rate. He still had some time to think on it and if he found someone to go with who wasn't seeing visions, maybe...

Ritsuka sighed, finished washing and headed out.

[to here (http://damned.livejournal.com/1156258.html?thread=79812770#t79812770)]

Edited 2011-09-04 11:42 (UTC)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Day 58: Men's Showers (Fourth Shift)

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8D

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fffff you attract only my weird characters Brainy

sob, his life is hard man ;A;

8D now is your time to gush, Brainy

ALL HIS DREAMS ;A; now if only he could gush about superman at the same time...

Well... Goku's like the asian superman? 8D

I SUPPOSE... But he's too young 8|

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