Work Text:
Sparks battling sparks, metal clashing against metal: The Sounds of Creation
...At the most ungodly hours of night.
It was Luca. That much was obvious, even in your sleep deprived state.
No one, repeat, no one would be awake this late- Well, no, no one would be awake this late and make it this obvious.
If only the walls separating the living area and your bedroom were as thick as the ones keeping the “Dorm Rooms” apart. If only you were one of the few unaware of how genuinely wretched Luca’s sleep “schedule” was. If only you weren’t one of the four who was personally aware of it. Or, hell, even if you weren’t the current person who had to deal with it, that might also be nice.
But, unlike the three before you, you legitimately had no room to complain.
Margaretha, Vera, and Freddy were all randomly assigned Luca as a roommate prior, then subsequently unassigned as loud complaints of lacking beauty sleep swept the entire manor.
“I thought rats were quiet not disruptive and age accelerating ”
“I fell asleep on chair thanks to him! Do you see this mark?! Umbrella! You think I’d have this if I wasn’t asleep during the rescue?! ”
“Do you see the bags forming?! Do you?! Oh god, I see them oh god -”
There were some tears shed to get out of the confined space.
There was also a lot more yelling.
A Lot.
If not for their continued complaining after being switched out, other survivors would have likely not been aware of Luca not knowing what the word “Sleep” means.
“Getting a larger room is NOT worth it,” the dancer huffed to you as you approached the Illusion Hall, “Trust me, okay?”
...You did not trust her.
In fact, you did the exact opposite of trust her.
You specifically requested to be Luca’s roommate.
Why? You weren’t even entirely sure yourself (Maybe). You barely knew him outside of matches, perhaps that was it? Wanting to get closer to a teammate? Probably not just that, but you continued to say that was the only reason to yourself. Maybe it would be truer that way.
Now? You were suffering the consequences of not trusting other people (which were apparently: Sleep Deprivation and Not Sleeping Good).
Or were you...
Maybe, instead of brute forcing yourself into sleeping in spite of the noise, a method that honestly makes you feel like you’d have been better off just not sleeping at all, maybe you could simply speak with the Prisoner? Ask him to wrap it up as you drifted to sleep. Maybe he could pick it up after you’ve fallen deep into it? You could both see what works.
...Talking to him in general could also be nice. Instead of just instantly retreating to your sleeping area the moment you walked in, gifting only the casual “Hey” as he worked away at the table with the occasional response. Maybe a quick chat about the daily matches, the weather, why you’re all unable to escape the manor no matter how hard you try, casual things. Fun things. But... more often than not, he didn’t seem to realize you were there.
This was the general thought process as you lazily shuffled to the doorway separating your small bedroom from the living-space-working-area-thing.
A large desk sits at the other end- well, no, it was two desks placed next to each other with the intention of having one desk per survivor in the room. Thank god you just needed the small table in your room to do what you wanted, because with the blueprints, tools, and mechanical bits (that survivors probably shouldn’t have access to) spreading across the tops and draping the sides, you wouldn’t have been able to tell those desks were once separate entities.
Cautiously, you approached the hunched over survivor.
“Heyyy… Luca,” your attempt at a greeting was met with… nothing.
A few steps closer and your call to his name once again, “Lucaaa?”
And, once again, was met with nothing.
Closer yet, just behind his chair, you tried again, “Lucaaaa, hiiii...:”
...The only response was your own sigh.
You brought a hand up to tap his shoulder.
You regretted your decision on contact.
Sparks flew in the worst possible sense as electricity jolted through your arm.
You weren’t going to die, but you were going to yelp, recoiling instantly. Ouchie
As you were pulling your hand into yourself (as if it would make it feel better), you didn’t see Luca turning, hammer poised like a weapon with wide eyes before he quickly put it down and put his hands to his mouth.
He stood with his hands simultaneously out and reaching for you... but also pulled back to himself in uncertainty.
“Are you- (Y/n) are you okay?”
Your hand vibrated with pins and needles as it tried to regain feeling, so no, but “Y- Yeah! I- All good!”
Your nervous laugh was the only noise in the room now.
When it faded, there was just an awkward silence between the two of you.
Finally, he decided to give out his hand, “Let me see?”
You paused, looking from his hand, to him, to your own hand.
Slowly, you gave up your hand, both of you pulling back just before contact was made. You weren’t thrilled with the idea of getting shocked again, understandably.
And yet, your hand eventually made it into his.
Gently he rubbed his index finger up and down along the back of your hand. He used the other to check your fingers, gently brushing over the tips. On contact with your index and pointer, you flinched. Immediately he pulled back, his concentrated expression fading to concern as he let go.
“Burned,” he said, straightening his back and rubbing the back of his neck, other hand awkwardly placed at his hip, not directly looking at you
“I- What?”
Still avoiding eye contact, he took the hand he had on his neck and used it to pull on his jumper. He brought the place you tapped him to the front. How were you able to tell? The charred black that’s bled into the white stripe below, a small trace of smoke was still present.
“I- It felt like a bad one, but I- I had to check,” Luca gave a nervous chuckle, “Apol- S- Sorry, (Y/n)”
You just waved dismissively with the injured hand, “I- It’s fine, yeah? Just a little burn, no big deal~”
The tired drips your voice may have once had no longer had the option to exist.
It still hurt, but that seemed like it was expected
You should probably get some ice… Maybe later.
Luca slowly looked at you, and your hand, before humming, “S- So is this.. a surprise visit or…?”
Ah.
You nearly forgot the whole reason you came out here to talk.
Nearly.
The clock resting on the desk reminded you of your true purpose (unfortunately).
“We- We should probably talk, yeah?”
Luca’s expression shifted into being somehow more apologetic? If that was possible. He shifted his eyes in all kinds of directions, suddenly everything in the room must have been fascinating. He was listening, though.
Quickly you gestured to the clock, “A- About… this”
“You- You want to…” He spoke the rest under his breath, you assumed he just repeated what you said. Suddenly, Luca’s eyes lit up as they met yours, crackling sparks could almost be seen behind the grey curtains, “Wh- What part?”
“P- Part?”
Luca excitedly reached out for your uninjured hand and you gave it to him without much thought. He guided you over to the desk(s), pulling out his chair and gesturing for you to sit. Slowly, you did as you were requested.
As you were trying to settle with Luca’s long-time forged butt groove, Luca managed to get a hold of another chair (the one meant for the second desk) and rolled it over, grabbing a small bag of ice on his way. From where? You weren’t entirely sure, but looking a gift rat in the mouth wasn’t a high priority.
His adjustment to the new seat seemed about as easy as yours, which means it was not thrilling for anyone involved. He, however, took it in stride as he handed you the icy bag in return for a small “Thank You.” He would go on to gently relocate some of the clutter on the desk, giving a better view to some of the blueprints underneath. Luca radiated with a newfound energy.
You, however, were still adjusting to the fact the seat was still warm and now your hand was very, very cold. Nice.
“What part-” He quickly pulled out a small set of blueprints for A Thing, excitedly holding it in front of himself for you to see. The paper... sure had words on it, “The construction? The planning? The function? The inspira- inspiration...” On the last word his enthusiasm managed to die off as suddenly as it had arrived.
“I ah- n- never mind, just the first three.”
Your confused expression was met with an uncomfortable chuckle.
“I- I don’t…” He put the blueprints down into his lap, “I- I just can’t really give you an answer, no- not when I don’t really know the answer myself, you know?”
You nodded dumbly.
You didn’t know... on several levels. On one level, you didn’t know how someone could devote themselves so wholly to what looked like the same thing without any idea as to what inspired it. On another level, you didn’t really know how to breathe anymore.
He was looking at you expectantly, his fang poking out as he smiled. Has he always been a little pink? Maybe the lighting was just weird- How long did he have his hands around yours? That seems important- Did you grab his first? Yet another level you didn’t know- At least it wasn’t the burned hand.
“I- Talk ab- time- The time” You finally managed after struggling against your own lungs.
“The- The time? As in how long I’ve been working on this?”
You nod slowly, knowing full well (and accepting) that you’re on a completely different train of thought, ready to embark with his instead. He takes a breath and squeezed around your hand a little tighter, readying himself to explain the whole time line for this invention, how something in his life did a thing and that thing indirectly led to this, which led to that and how he was this old when he thought of it and this old when he started working and how he- how he- how he couldn’t get himself to say anything.
The smile on his face slowly faded as he let your hand free, pulling into himself.
There was silence.
Eventually, he managed to get out a quiet, “I- I don’t know”
Hands folded in his lap he looked to the desk, “I don’t- I don’t remember that either...”
The complete deflation of the normally prideful man before you did… something to you.
Maybe passing out isn’t so bad, y’know? You’d probably be fine. You’ve already long since decided that time is an illusion, if not a recommendation. It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s fallen asleep on chair. What’s the difference between that passing out there and passing out here- well, one would be caused by physical backlash from the body versus this would be just mental backlash from being overwhelmed by emotions but that- that didn’t matter.
You already had your hand on top of his, giving a small squeeze and an awkward smile.
“That- That’s fine! Ah… It’ll come back eventually?”
Luca somehow slouched further, looking away as he bit the inside of his cheek.
Wrong dialogue option wrong- “O- OR! W- What I meant to say- I uh- As long as- uhm, you’re pushing forward n-now it- it’ll be fine if you don’t- I’m not great with- I’m so sorry- I - ah, you don’t have to- to remember why you’re doing something that you- you love right? You just- have to- have to know you love doing it?”
Silence.
...But he was squeezing your hand back.
“I- ah…” You attempted to swallow your nerves, “Can you t- tell me…”
He tilted his head up from the floor a little to show he was listening.
“Wh- what this thing does- or- or what it will do?”
It takes a few moments, almost like he’s afraid to get excited over something he can’t explain again. However, the sparks returned to his bright eyes as they lock with yours.
“I can explain that- this one,” He laughed a little, “I- I know this one~!”
As he began his description, he pulled out a fresh sheet of paper, sketching rough diagrams to try and help illustrate what he was saying. Though it was a little difficult to draw with his second hand unable to stabilize the paper, he pulled it off.
He was unwilling to let go quite yet.
Good thing you felt the same.
...And it was the unburned hand, which helped.
Who needs to be awake with the sun when you have the light from his eyes?
Probably you... but sleep is for the weak, anyway.