Day 51: Breakfast

[thatdamnedninja.livejournal.com]

Yuffie Kisaragi, indomitable bouncing ball of sunshine and unfathomable ebullience, was tired. It'd been a long night full of gibberish and getting nowhere fast.

"Can't I—"

Plucky, who had been busily loading a plate full of French toast and bacon, tittered. "I'm afraid not, Hanna, darling. A chat over a nice, hearty breakfast would do you a world of good, don't you think?"

"Aaaaactually—"

"Come on, let's find you a seat. Plenty to choose from this morning!"

For a long moment, Yuffie seriously considered doing something—anything—to act out. Punch her nurse, rub jam in an orderly's face, climb a wall and hang off the ceiling, jump on a table and parody Loveless… A ruckus like that would definitely jolt her back into gear, right? Sedation aside. And it'd turn Plucky's good day right on its head, which was always a bonus worth shooting for.

But, by the time she'd reached a decision—and it was an epic decision, a really awesome one; everybody'd appreciate the genius, she was sure—she was already alone. Her breakfast tray had been set down neatly by the nurse, who had left with an infuriatingly winsome smile.

"Wow," Yuffie muttered. Shaking her head, she picked a chair at random and threw herself into it. She kicked back, one arm slung across her eyes, to wait. For what, she wasn't totally sure. Some moron to decide that she looked like good company? That was how it usually went.

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[forgot-it-all.livejournal.com]

Whoever it was, the nurse obviously thought Ritsuka knew them. The other person didn't seem to be talking and that was just fine with him. Ritsuka didn't want to talk. He didn't want to be moved around either, not with the injury in his shoulder still aching - even more so with the memory of the hands that tended to the wounds. Hands that were gone now. He had chosen a different path. He couldn't fault him for choosing, for taking the option left open to him. It was a way out, and it led back to...

The person across from him stood up slowly and Ritsuka closed his eyes. He wasn't surprised that the other would leave. It wasn't like he was very good company today. His nurse had forced him out of the room to the cafeteria because she had thought sitting in bed all day was unhealthy. She didn't understand the way he felt. She didn't know what it was like to be abandoned.

He was the last of his friends who remained here. Alfons, Miku, Tamaki, Hikaru, Kaoru, Kio and now Soubi - all of them had gone. Maybe the outside was better. Maybe that was why--

"Ritsuka..." Someone was sitting next to him. "Are you okay?"

The sound of a familiar voice knocked him out of his thoughts for a moment and his eyes slipped to the side. White hair and purple eyes registered first, followed by a name and memories of talks. Albedo. He had brothers here. He put those strange bulletin board games up that led to discussions that Ritsuka wasn't always certain about. Recently, the games had been absent. Ritsuka had wondered why, but hadn't been able to find Albedo to ask him. He'd been killed once. The memory of fratricide tore through the haze in Ritsuka's mind like a knife and the boy looked away, returning his gaze listlessly to the untouched tray in front of him.

"I don't know," he said finally, his voice stumbling out of his mouth like his tongue was made of cotton.

[purgatio]

The apparent honesty in the response was unnerving--the fact that this person could seemingly hinge on being broken slid like a sharp fear through him. He couldn't say why. But there was a need here, in Ritsuka being able to exist. It touched close to brothers, to Angel, and for that Albedo could not look at it.

And he could not respond to the words used. As if he could genuinely comfort another individual. The situation was foreign, and the words normally said--what's wrong, what happened--seemed too petty, too repeated, too violating, if one was truly on the edge of pain's blade. They were legitimate, but Albedo was not Ritsuka's need. He did not know how to go about touching on this.

He bit his lip hesitatingly, then extended a hand slowly to reach for the other's arm. He went to touch fingertips to the back of Ritsuka's hand--for some kind of comfort or to show he was there was uncertain. As well as the option it would be rejected. That possibility was more than clear.

[forgot-it-all.livejournal.com]

Albedo didn't say anything. He seemed to be perched on the edge of indecision; not knowing what to do, but wanting to do something. Ritsuka knew all too well there was little that could be done. He'd seen his friends leave one by one, promises to keep them safe and promises to stay broken and shattered, crushed by the weight of the pressure the Institute placed upon everyone here. What was worse was Ritsuka couldn't blame Soubi for leaving, or Kio for going, too. Kio was Soubi's friend, not Ritsuka's - he was Soubi's ally alone. Maybe they'd left together for all Ritsuka knew. It seemed like Kio had gone before Soubi.

Maybe Soubi had fulfilled his promise to Kio then and protected him instead.

Fingers touched the back of his hand and Ritsuka looked down at them. So wary, so uncertain, ready to pull back at the smallest sign. He'd reached out to his mother like that before after Seimei died. He remembered all too well how that had gone. Rather than repeat history, Ritsuka turned his hand over, palm up, and reached out for Albedo's fingers.

For all that he'd lost, there was at least one person here still willing to reach for him. He had to be thankful for that. He had to appreciate that even one person left in this Institute remembered him - the real him. Ritsuka's fingers closed around Albedo's gently as he closed his eyes. He had to remember this feeling. He had to remember how to survive on his own again now. He needed this anchor, temporary though it may be, to draw him back from the doubt that would lead him to being Jordan, not Ritsuka.

"...thank you." He wasn't alone yet. Not entirely. Just lonely. And that was something he could grow accustomed to yet again.

[purgatio]

[sorry for the delay. T_T this was... hard.]

Shock came in waves too severe to count. The lack of rejection--the, instead, acceptance and beyond that, was not expected. Albedo's eyes widened when Ritsuka took his hand, allowing the action easily where usually he would have pulled away. After a day of isolation and a night where the only contact was violence, the slight touch bordering comfort was almost too much. His eyes filled unexpectedly, and Albedo dropped his gaze.

It was so easy like this. Why couldn't his brothers.... No. Don't touch on that. Not now.

The experience intensified when Ritsuka spoke again, using words that had been said to Albedo less than he could hold in one hand. Part of his being rejected the words. Rejected the meaning. There was nothing in him worthy of being thanked. Nothing that.... But still. There was still the pressure of Ritsuka's hand. The ring of his words. And something ached fiercely inside of his chest.

He began to realize he was crying silently, tears dripping down his cheeks. He reacted without thinking; leaning forward and pressing his face gently into Ritsuka's shoulder. For the other boy's comfort or his own, it wasn't certain.