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.

Comments

[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.