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Cinnabar wasn’t used to touch.
They destroyed everything that came in contact with them. It was of no surprise that they made a point to limit physical contact with everyone. Sometimes they’d allow Red Beryl to check their measurements, since their clothes dirtied consistently. Other times Rutile had to glue their fragile body back together, and there was no other choice but to let them.
If it had been up to Cinnabar, maybe they wouldn’t touch anybody altogether. Clothes mostly had an aesthetic purpose, they could have done without; falling apart from being broken over and over wasn’t such a bad fate, either.
Sometimes they wondered if they should just sleep forever.
The realization of these thoughts was out of question, though. Red Beryl was among the most stubborn of the gems; Rutile was likely the fiercest. They stubbornly insisted on sustaining Cinnabar’s well being. It wasn’t a bad thing, of course… Red Beryl’s gloves let them handle materials when it was required; and without Rutile, maybe they’d fall apart and pollute the environment, bleeding poison all over the grass.
Besides, if they stopped moving, who would look after the night?
Spring had only just thawed the snow, and they had blinked the drowsiness away, welcoming the faint sun rays. They’d only woken up a couple of brief times during Phos’s 300th winter. Although Cinnabar usually slept through the brightest hours, they always woke up during the day, in spring.
They hadn’t touched their winter pajamas or the blankets Rutile brought them. There was no reason to dirty them when Cinnabar had no real use for comfort.
Rutile would soon come to them, they mused, staring at the light that reflected off the water. They did that every spring, just making sure Cinnabar hadn’t been broken or taken, and using the opportunity to take back the dusty, unused soft fabric.
In the meantime, Cinnabar lounged back, enjoying the noticeable burst of warmth the reflected spring light provided. It was so bright…
“Cinnabar!”
Their name had just been shouted. They didn’t recognize the voice, but it must be Rutile.
“I’m awake,” Cinnabar said, too low to be heard over the wind. They stood up, intended to exit the cave, when a golden thing dripped down onto the floor. Cinnabar took a sharp intake of breath. Were they being attacked?
They didn’t move, gathering poison and waiting it out instead.
The golden thread thickened, taking hold of the cave’s floor, and using it as a foothold, something lowered itself into the cave, almost missing it in their attempt to control their fall.
Phos landed on the edge of the cave, stumbled, and almost fell out. Cinnabar reached out to help them, but stopped short- they weren’t wearing their gloves- but what if they fell-
“Wow, I need to find a safer way to do this.”
Thankfully, Phos didn’t fall. They regained their footing. The golden substance morphed into arms, attached at their shoulders. The way they moved was eerily similar to Cinnabar’s own liquid…
“You lost your arms too?” Cinnabar asked, some unpleasant feelings pooling at their feet like poison. Phos nodded sheepishly, not looking directly at Cinnabar.
Phos themselves had changed in more ways than losing and gaining arms. Their hair was shorter; they stood much taller than before, and Cinnabar was quite certain their heels weren’t the only thing at fault.
“So, um,” Phos held out a bundle of clothes, and Cinnabar put on their gloves in a hurry, “Red Beryl told me to give you your new clothes. Rutile asked if you’re, uh,” Phos still wasn’t looking directly at them, “doing fine.”
What had Phos forgotten with the loss of their arms? Did they even remember Cinnabar properly?
“Perfect, as always,” Cinnabar brushed off, carefully setting the clothes somewhere clean. When they spun back to the cave’s entrance they realized Phos froze up, their eyes wide.
Cinnabar furrowed their brows. “Phos?”
Phos’s agate knees buckled, and they collapsed on the floor. Impulsively, Cinnabar rushed forward, lowering themselves in front of their fellow gem. The gold, fluid again, started pooling at the corner of their eyes, and they wheezed.
This, too, was eerily reminiscent of themselves.
Sensei had told them it was an ancient species’ flaw to leak like this; but Cinnabar was intimately aware that it was more than that. It was underlying sorrow racking through their body; it was helplessness and frustration leaking out of them, leaving them feeling hollow.
This must be… what Phos was feeling right now. Cinnabar had never seen another being cry. It cracked something inside of them, demanding that they make it better, but they didn’t know how to make it better, because nothing made it better for them, except…
Except Phos…
Phos’s body was agitated by hiccups as they tried to control the tears. Their surface had cracked into golden veins. Cinnabar didn’t know what to do. They reached out with a gloved hand and patted Phos’s head, careful not to break themselves. They were not used to touch.
“Phos,” they called out softly, though they didn’t know what to say in the face of so much sadness.
Phos finally looked at them. “I’m…” Hiccup. “I’m fine… really…”
They didn’t pull away from Cinnabar’s hand. Rather, they leaned into it, their eyes closing halfway as they did so.
“What happened, Phos?” Cinnabar asked.
Phos opened their mouth to answer, but no sound came out, and their face contorted to control the tears instead. Cinnabar wanted to reach out more, but any closer than this and Phos might be hurt-
A hitch of breath was their only warning. They almost crashed into the wall as they were tackled by the heavy gem. Their hand was now empty; instead they were embraced by the green gem, gold dripping down their shirt and circling their waist to hold on tight enough that they felt their torso strain, though it didn’t shatter.
There was a brief moment of panic. Cinnabar wasn’t used to touch. Cinnabar wasn’t used to touching things, tired of seeing them wither and die, and Cinnabar was even less used to being touched, to being touched for comfort of all things.
Can’t you see? I’m going to destroy like, like everything else.
But they held on. They carefully, oh so carefully, wrapped their own arms around Phos. They were wearing gloves, they rationalized. And… well… prying Phos off would be difficult…
A muted voice startled them out of their anxiety. “Antarcticite was taken… because they protected me...”
Oh. Oh no. They couldn’t say they knew Antarc well, but…
“It’s my fault, Cinnabar…”
Cinnabar rubbed circles against the back of Phos’s shirt, hoping that it reminded Phos that they weren’t alone.
“Do you think they would’ve rather you, the youngest of us, had been taken in their place? When it was their duty to look after winter… after everyone?”
Phos stilled between their arms. Their face was smudged in Cinnabar’s uniform, and Cinnabar hoped no poison would get through. Phos deserved to safeguard whatever phosphophyllite was left in their body.
“...they’re too kind,” came the soft response, and Phos’s voice cracked at the end. “They’re too brave. They wouldn’t want me to be like this, but… I won’t be able to face them. I couldn’t get them back...”
“Shhh.” Cinnabar remembered the soft sound Sensei used to make to comfort them. “I’m sorry.”
Phos jerked backwards to look at them in the eyes. Phos’s green was rimmed with golden. “No. I’m sorry… I couldn’t find you a job… I couldn’t save Antarc…” They sniffed. “You have nothing to be sorry about. Don’t be sorry… It’s me...”
Cinnabar was at loss. What could they say? What would soothe Phos? They couldn’t promise that they’d get Antarc back.
There was nothing to say.
It hurt. Their helplessness hurt so much. They squeezed Phos lightly, hoping that the action would communicate what they couldn’t say, but they only appeared confused. Cinnabar had to say something, anything at all.
“What do you need?”
Phos stared at them. The crying, the hiccups had slowed to a stop, though they were flecked with gold, cracked in places, and still viciously attached to Cinnabar.
Phos opened their mouth, eyes wide, but it stayed hanging open until they averted their eyes. Phos choked the next words out more than they said them.
“Just don’t go to the moon…”
Don’t leave too. Don’t leave me behind like Antarc did.
Cinnabar’s fingers flexed involuntarily.
Phos glanced at them, but didn’t keep their eyes trained on Cinnabar, who felt poison bubble up to the corner of their eyes when Phos looked down instead.
“Alright.” They squeezed Phos again to emphasize, though they had to do their best to hold the noxious liquid away from Phos. “I won’t go.”
Phos didn’t answer, though they set their chin on Cinnabar’s shoulder, very carefully. Cinnabar still winced, afraid that they would break from the strain. Thankfully their body held on for now.
“I promise I won’t go, okay?”
Phos still didn’t speak. Cinnabar was unnerved.
“I promise won’t leave for the moon -I thought I might be useful there, but-” Why wasn’t Phos reacting? They weren’t asleep. Cinnabar was scared, what if they broke Phos? What if they were broken forever because Cinnabar said the wrong thing? It was so hard to stop the poison from leaking out of their eyes. They felt cracks run through their body too, from several different kinds of pressure, and their voice staggered when they continued. They couldn’t cry now, not when Phos was so close… “I promise I won’t go to the moon… I promise… so please… say something…”
Phos didn’t say anything at all.
Cinnabar felt something roll down their cheek. Oh no. Oh no, they had to get away from Phos- but they’d break if they tried… There were little cracks all over both Phos and themselves already. What if Phos shattered into a thousand pieces in Cinnabar’s arms? What if Cinnabar did?
Phos finally, finally did something, though it was shifting against their chest.
“I’m sorry,” Phos started with a weak voice. The vibrations reverberated throughout Cinnabar’s body. “I still haven’t found you a job… and I’m forcing you to give up the hope you held onto...”
Phos thought going to the moon was a hope?
That hope was nothing but hope-shaped despair. A last ditch effort to pretend they could be of some use in this world. For Cinnabar, who was locked away in the dark of the night, the only light had been the moon.
Phos’ kindness was a new light of its own. They gladly discarded the moonlight if it meant that Phos would hold onto them like this.
“You’re a mess,” Cinnabar stated, still holding Phos, still crying though they hoped no tear landed on the green gem. “Protecting you against yourself is a job on its own.”
Their voice shook a little. “I could hold onto... that… instead. Onto you.”
Phos chuckled, though even the sound seemed exhausted. “I’m so useless. You found yourself a new job all on your own. You didn’t even need my help.”
Cinnabar no longer felt like crying. They rolled their eyes instead, frowning- they held onto Phos tightly, uncaring of the cracks between them.
“I have a lot of work, don’t I.”
Maybe Cinnabar could get used to touch.