Chapter Text
To be honest, he was quite perplexed.
Mono was the one that did all the talking in their relationship. That's how it was. He didn't mind, of course. He liked to chatter. Liked the ambience it gave, even if it was just coming from himself.
So to hear Six interrupt him in such a harsh tone, he was stunned. It was like he heard a lion's roar from a baby cub. She sounded so... enraged. But even though he could sense all the bitterness and frustration, her body language directed none of it towards him.
It seemed like... it was directed inwards. Towards herself. He couldn't come up with a response, not even as she dug her canines into her lips, and bore her half-bitten nails into her arms. Six always had a habit of self-sabotage. Ironic, Mono thinks, because out of the three she was the one most tunneled on "survival."
And as she stood up and started to walk, his body automatically imitated the same motions, following her. Because they were always together, that's how it was. Everywhere one went, the other followed.
But he decided against it.
Because this time, it wasn't just the two of them. Mono would absolutely dread waking up to find that all of his friends had gone somewhere without telling him. He didn't like being abandoned like that, not at all. So why would he subject RK to the same circumstance?
Even though he couldn't help but worry for her safety (he always has and will be), he knew how skillful she was at surviving. Skillful enough to the point that it would sometimes scare him. Nevertheless, he decided to put his trust in her, just like he always has.
Six's scrawny feet tore vibrations into the already thin and creaking floor. She did not look back, not even once, and marched into the hallway, slamming the door on her way out, causing the inside knob to shake and tremble. Because she had to do that, of course.
It was not until some good amount of seconds passed by that he could no longer hear her trampling down the entire apartment. Mono stood still, in the middle of the room, staring at the door which had gone through extreme physical violence only mere moments ago, until those footsteps dwindled and dwindled, fading into a silence that was only filled by static electricity panning through the walls.
Sighing, he turned to look at the couch, and found RK with his eyes wide open.
"Wh—don't scare me like that, RK!" Mono startled, "You should've told me you were awake or something..."
RK replied with a single "Mhmm."
"Sorry, did she wake you up?" Mono's cheeks started turning red from the second-hand embarrassment. Sometimes he wished she would start thinking about other people...
"S'fine..." He drawled, slowly sitting up. He tugged at the coat Mono gave to him, and paused. Then, he looked at the original owner of said coat.
"Didn't want you to be cold," Mono explains.
Another pause, and RK sits up straight.
"...Thank you."
The bag boy struts over to the couch, and lands on it with a fat 'plop', right next to his friend. RK raised his arm so that the coat could cover both of them together, like a makeshift blanket.
He opens his mouth and begins to ask if RK had remembered what happened, but then quickly stopped himself. Perhaps it would be better if he didn't remember. Maybe that way, he would have less pain.
He tries to think of something to say, anything (he was normally so good at it), but falls flat. Maybe Six's outburst got to him. He doesn't know if he should say anything at all.
But he doesn't have to worry about that, because RK speaks instead.
"Your coat... it's warm," he says. "I see why you wear it all the time."
Hearing that, Mono perks up with delight. "Yeah, it is! It's my favorite... Don't 'member where I found it, though. Think at a shopping building or something. Crazy! I didn't think they had clothes for kids like us... everything I saw was super huge!"
He rambles, and kicks his feet. Mono absolutely adored that trench coat, all tattered and dirty from its constant friction with nature. He could feel RK's eyes on him; hands resting on his legs, and a slight smile forming on his face. He didn't know why, though. Was he that funny?
"Mhm... Where was this coat when you found it?" he inquires.
"Uh... I think it was on the floor or something. It was really, really dirty though... I had to use a tub many times to clean it..." He shudders, recalling the memories. "Cleaning is hard... Don't like it."
"And was this the only child-sized clothing you found?"
"I—I think so? I don't remember finding anything else there." Mono wonders why he keeps asking these weirdly specific questions.
"Then, it must've come from another child, right?"
Oh.
Mono never thought about it that way, but that logic made sense. There were only so many clothes that could fit them, after all. It wasn't that farfetched to deduce that his now special coat used to have a previous owner; a child, just like him.
But going along that line of reasoning, then...
"Then, what happened to him?"
"Him? How do you know it was a boy?" RK raised his eyebrows.
"Oh," Mono blushed. "Dunno... I just assumed."
"It's okay," he chuckled. "We can only imagine what happened to them. Actually, we might not want to imagine that at all..."
Mono frowned.
That wasn't very pleasant to think about. There were many, many scary things in this world. He didn't want to wonder about that child's possible fate; maybe they got in contact with a Viewer, or got caught by that unusually tall man—did he see a glitching shadow near it? He can't recall...
Instead, he tried to look on the positive side of things. At least he has the coat now, right? So it's not like it doesn't have a good owner. Mono liked to think that he took good care of it, anyway. Besides, it's like the coat's legacy was passed down! Then who would be next in line to inherit it, he pondered... not taking into consideration whether it would last that long in the first place.
But while he was pondering and playing with the buttons of his shirt simultaneously, he realized that his friend hadn't said anything for a while. When he turned to glance at RK, the boy had a look of grimness on his face, or rather, he looked lost in thought...
It wasn't electrical science to guess what was on his mind.
Mono grabbed those pale, pale hands which were clasped neatly in between RK's legs. He gently tucked his fingers between the other boy's, until they were holding hands. He gave a firm, yet caring squeeze. Mono didn't care that RK did not squeeze back.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
No reply.
Mono didn't even think RK would say anything after two seconds of complete silence, but then,
"...I didn't know Six could stomp that loud... Usually, she's the quietest out of all of us."
"Oh," Mono scratched his neck. "She's... having a rough time, I think."
"...I'm sure she is."
RK said that with the most deadpan tone Mono's ever heard from him.
Maybe he shouldn't have said anything at all.
"I mean, she—uh..." he stammered, desperately looking for alternative explanations that could satisfy RK without speaking ill of his friend.
"It's fine, you don't need to defend her."
The runaway looked down.
"Aren't you mad? She just left you like that."
No, she left us , Mono thinks.
There's a sting that punches Mono in the gut, because he knows RK's right, that she did leave in a fit of rage. RK would probably say it was unjustified, but... Mono didn't really care.
He wasn't mad. He could never be mad at her, and if he was, it wasn't for long. If anything, he felt... hurt. Hurt that she left him, and hurt that she didn't open up to him.
"...No."
RK seemed to expect this answer, however he may disagree with it. But he did not delve further.
"...I see."
And they say nothing more.
RK interrupts the stillness.
"...Sorry you had to see me like that. I... really wish you hadn't."
Ah, so he did remember.
"Hey, don't say that. It's not your fault." Mono held RK's hand even tighter. "It must've been really scary, right? When you were e—"
Mono put a hand over his mouth.
What a stupid, stupid boy he was. He was only trying to help.
RK stared at him.
"Who told you that?"
Mono looked away.
"...Why did Six tell you?"
RK's astounding proficiency at deducing conclusions scared Mono to the core.
Those golden eyes pierced him so fervently that he could put a magnifying glass in between them and he would get burnt.
"It wasn't her fault, I asked her to tell me."
He was always used to pleading guilty to things, even if he wasn't responsible for it. It didn't sit right with Mono; RK should be mad at him, not her.
RK's stare lingered.
Then he sighed.
"I would've preferred to tell you myself—if I were to tell you at all—but whatever, I guess."
Hearing that made Mono queasy; he wanted a way to permanently put his bag over his head so that no one, not even himself, could ever see his shameful face ever again.
He didn't think about the possibility that perhaps RK didn't want that information shared, that he wasn't ready, that he liked keeping things to himself sometimes. That he was unlike Mono, who couldn't sit still until he bombarded his friends with stories of his expeditions and discoveries of that certain day.
Wasn't he the kid that was supposed to be understanding? RK said that he was, what did he say—empathetic? That was his job, wasn't it?
...And he wasn't even good at it. Isn't that why Six left him?
He could only let out a meek "sorry."
RK sighed.
"Don't apologize for things that aren't your fault," he said, and squeezed his hand.
Mono had forgotten that they were holding hands at all.
That simple light pressure could make him the happiest boy in Pale City; he adored physical touch, it made him feel safe, it was the only way he knew that someone was physically there with him, that he wasn't alone in this cruel, cruel world.
"If it makes you feel better," Mono tugged at his bag, "I also know how it feels, to, uh, be hurt by—"
He stopped himself to think of a better way to phrase his words, because he definitely didn't want to say it like that.
"I mean, Six has hurt my feelings before... That's what I mean."
"Really?" RK asked with a rise of pitch in his voice, urging Mono to continue.
"Yeah... we were at the Signal Tower, and we were running away from this really nasty eye monster thing—I'll tell you about that later—but anyways, we got to this cliff, and Six got there before me, so I jumped and she catched me, just always she always had, but then.."
Mono tugged his bag down.
"Her eyes... so... blazing hot. I never knew they were red, but seeing them... She was angry. And I didn't know why back then, but... I could tell that she wanted to drop me. To leave me there, all alone, until I died. She wanted to go on without me."
He recalls the incident in his memory. He remembers all the five senses. He remembers the coarse rocks and dirty stabbing against the soles of his foot as he raced towards somewhere, anywhere to get away from that thing that resided in the Signal Tower—or rather, was it the Signal Tower itself?
He could picture the scene very clearly. Six's glowing bright raincoat; always in front of him, always faster than him. When push came to shove, she could always escape quicker than him, much much quicker.
Sometimes he was afraid that she would even leave him behind; that he might turn a corner and see nothing, no indication of his trusty partner, and no sound to give him clues as to where she went, as if she evaporated into thin air.
That was also the first time Six saw his horrid, grotesque face. One which the world hated him for, and subsequently the one he himself hated him for. A child's face which must never see the light of day, nakedly exposed to his one and only friend to ridicule and scowl at. It was (one of) his worst fears came true. He avoided every reflection he could from mirrors, puddles, and windows. He hated his own irises, those endless black holes that one could see nothing in. And his sclera—RK taught him that word, when he asked him what the gray part in an eye was. A terrible mistake, he realized. That day he learned scleras were supposed to be white.
...Strangely enough, Six never commented on anything about his face. He was expecting weird looks or questions, but... she hadn't spoken about it at all. He would be lying if he said that didn't make him happy.
It was funny; while he was running, he could hear nothing; the sounds of his heartbeat clanging into his eardrums were enough to drown everything out, even the electric sizzles and the crumbling platforms.
But when he was at her mercy—when she held him by a single hand, he could hear everything. He could hear the bricks of gravel and slimy organs that would soon overwhelm them, and he could also hear Six's panting breaths, her parched throat (which probably hadn't consumed water in days) attempting to swallow... he could hear it all.
The worst was the seemingly bottomless pit which he was held over. It pulled at his brain and body, invading his thoughts and emotions. It told him things he never wanted to believe, his worst fears which he hoped would never come true. It made him believe that Six was going to drop him, that she would leave him, isolate him and abandon him, all alone by himself in the dark.
And for a split second, Mono could see the same idea brainstorming from Six's reddened face—like she was producing tears... except he could not see any, none at all.
But those are long ago memories, ones Mono didn't have to think about much, and he was grateful for that.
When he turned to glance at his friend, RK had an... unreadable expression, one that almost looked like disappointment.
"But did she?" he asked.
"Well, obviously not—" Mono started, but his words trailed off, leaving him only to hear his thoughts and realizations.
The room was quiet. Too quiet. Mono hated when he didn't know what to say.
RK stared at his feet, and Mono played with his shirt, something to get his mind off the atmosphere. Usually the boy made eye contact with him while they were talking, and Mono didn't like that he wasn't doing that right now.
He whispers, in a voice to soft and low that Mono almost couldn't hear,
"Do you know... how it feels to be eaten alive?"
He tugs at his button harder.
Mono did not answer. He could not answer, because he did not know how it felt to be eaten alive. He could not know how it felt.
He tried to imagine; he tried, however unpleasant it may be, to put himself in RK's shoes (well, if he was wearing any). Tried to imagine the pain and suffering he lived through, the torment and impossible torture he must've experienced that fateful day.
And he could, of course. He was always good at thinking about other childrens' well beings. So it wasn't that difficult to imagine the brutality and horror of it all, speculating the sensation of his body being teared apart just like RK described.
It didn't feel very nice.
But no matter how much he visualized it, no matter how much he theorized how it would feel, he could never truly understand what it meant to have his limbs be ravaged, to have his muscles shredded to pieces, and his bones chewed and gnawed at until they were tiny picks.
So Mono said nothing, contrary to his usual behavior. He decided to not utter a single syllable, only letting RK decipher his reply through body language. And RK was damn good at it.
He hated being silent. It made him hear things that he didn't want to focus on, like the electric buzz of cables and cords which ran throughout the City's apartments and streets.
That's why he preferred to keep himself busy; if he was occupied enough, he didn't have to notice those constant and neverending fizzles.
RK shakes his head in frustration.
"Ugh, I'm sorry, Mono. I shouldn't have said something like that. I know you were just trying to help."
Mono lets out a breath.
"It's okay."
"No, it's not—"
"No, really. You're right, I don't... know how it feels. I mean, I can try, but really... I'll never be able to understand either of what you or Six experience."
He plays with his bag, lightly tugging at the corners. He lets out a sigh, one that could be heard by all the spiders and ants in the room, despite all of its softness and weariness.
"...I just want us all to be friends," he admits.
There's heavy air in the room. Despite the cold weather, it feels like it's two hundred degrees with humidity from seemingly nowhere that makes Mono sweat. It doesn't help that he's under his coat and he's wearing his bag.
"...Yeah."
RK looks less irked now, and more... melancholic. Like he's lost, and doesn't know what to do. Mono could say the same thing about himself.
"...Are you mad at her?"
His friend huffs, and puts his legs on the couch, against his chest.
"I'm more... distraught than mad, to be honest. I just... I don't even know if she feels sorry."
For a split second, Mono has doubt in his mind. He's good friends with Six and all, but even sometimes he doesn't understand her. He thinks that he doesn't even know if she's really sorry, either, considering how she walked out on him—
But then he tries to think about it a different way, because he refuses to believe Six doesn't have a good conscience, that she was a child who held no emotions and was only born in this world to consume things. He didn't want to have that kind of mindset at all. He wanted to see the good in all children, including Six and RK. It was impossible to him that she couldn't feel guilt. He's seen her experience happiness. If she can feel on one end of the spectrum, then she can on the other, right?
"Of course she does, RK."
"How would you know?" he retorts, skeptical of Mono's assertions.
But when RK looks at the boy, he sees a sense of conviction he's never seen before.
"Do you really think she enjoys eating like that?"
Now, it was RK's turn to be silent.
He supposes he's never thought about it from her perspective. Surely, eating live rats and nomes was not healthy for any child. It probably wouldn't taste all that good either... but she never, ever left anything uneaten. RK didn't want to think about the implications of that.
"I suppose you're right... I never thought about it that way," he concedes.
"Still... I feel... I don't know. I just—you can't ever forget something like that, you know?"
Mono nods, acknowledging the boy next to him.
"Do you... not want to be her friend?"
"Of course I want to be her friend," RK exclaims with the utmost sincerity (which Mono certainly wasn't expecting).
"Of course I do. I want to be both of your friends. Honestly, you guys are the best thing that's ever happened to me. I don't know what I'd do without you both. You mean so much to me. And Six, too, despite all of her... quirks."
RK squeezes his hand again, but lets it go shortly afterwards, ruffling his own hair and rubbing his neck.
"But you know... It's not easy. Not for me. I'm not as outgoing as you are, so... you make it look so easy. I'm kind of envious. Plus, it's... it's hard, you know? I know you haven't experienced it, but..."
The runaway's palms hold snugly around his neck and collarbone, running across his shoulders and down his arms.
"My body... remembers. My soul... remembers. Even when I forget what happened in the moment... my body behaves in ways I can never control. Sometimes I don't even know why I act how I act."
He puts his hands together and plays with his fingers, caressing each of his thumbs.
"Besides... I can never really forget. I can only hope to move on. And I'm trying, of course, but... you know. It's... difficult."
The boy leans back onto the couch, letting out a breath and taking a slight break from all that talking he spilled seconds ago.
"...I don't even know if she wants to be my friend."
Mono did not respond. He simply basked within this information that his friend was giving to him, voluntarily, and let it sink into his mind, understanding piece by piece.
"...Sorry for rambling," RK says, breaking the silence.
"Don't apologize for things that aren't your fault."
RK could hear the smirk under his bag.
He snorted. "You got me there."
Mono tries a different choice of words this time.
"I think, if you both talk to each other openly... you both can work things out. You want to be her friend, right? Then there's nothing more to it, 'cause she definitely wants to be yours, too. Don't I know Six best?"
RK chuckles at his cocky statement, but doesn't deny it.
Mono gives him a light pat on the shoulder. He could see RK weighing the options in his mind, to agree or not agree...
"Here, I'll even watch. So if anything happens, I'll be there, okay?" he quickly adds.
RK forms a small smile, one that brings a sweet burn to Mono's chest.
"Yeah, okay," he agrees. "I'll try."
Mono kicks his feet, looking at the ceiling. He muses over the conversation they just had between them. It felt... comforting. He didn't know why, but he felt like he had gotten closer with RK far more than he ever did before. It reminded him of the times he would play with Six, doing things they thought children should normally do.
The fact that RK responds back to him when he talks is a pretty big deal, too. He might not know him for as long as he's known Six, might not have barely survived through the same experiences that they could both laugh over the next day, but he's still happy to have met him.
Mono thinks he could not possibly be more anticipated for what ventures await the group before them. He could not wait to make memories, to not survive, but to live as children until they become adults and bond over the nostalgia. That would be the perfect way to die, he thinks.
His mind turns back to Six, and he realizes that he didn't feel the passage of time while he was conversing with RK. How long has she been gone? His worries begin to rise, and he hopes for her eventual return. He wishes he could have spoken with her more, mulling over the what-ifs of running after her and leaving RK behind.
But as he waits, he hears the familiar creaks of planks, becoming ever so louder. He practically bolts up from the couch and heads straight towards the door, a surprised RK slightly jumping from the sudden movement.
And as he opens the door, he sees—
—Six.
Speak of the devil.
RK doesn't know what to feel when he sees her figure walking towards him (or rather, Mono). Actually, he can barely see her silhouette at all, since mister Six's Number One Fan over here decided to immediately run to the door like a dog greeting his returning master.
Mono latches onto her like a homesick puppy and hugs her with great force. He can tell, because he makes her almost trip backwards. Now, RK can see her holding something vaguely gray... is that a plastic bag?
The bag boy's chatter is obnoxiously loud, but when is it not? Besides, it's not like that was always a bad characteristic. Mono could liven up twenty rooms with his boisterous personality, and RK admired him for it.
He doesn't really pay attention to what they're saying, but he can hear bits and pieces of "Six, I've missed you," and "I'm so glad you're okay," and "I was so worried about you," and "Six you're so pretty and cute I really like you please never leave me again or I'll die instantly."
Okay, maybe not that last part, but still.
He doesn't notice those ever so quiet steps continue toward him until he sees small, dirt-ridden toes right in front of him. He looks up, surprised to see a neon yellow hood appear before him, holding a—bag full of food?
She thrusts the bag in front of his face, leaving RK conflicted by this act of simultaneous aggression and benevolence. He spares a glance at Mono, who merely stands near the door and chows on his saltine crackers (he always liked salty foods), lifting his bag up every time he takes a bite. Wouldn't that get tiring?
RK wonders why he hadn't walked back over with Six, but he promptly leaves that question behind, focusing on the object (and person) in front of him, still slightly baffled.
He points to himself, "For me?"
Six nods.
Well, if she insists.
He gracefully accepts the gift and sifts through the contents. There's a handful of canned foods: canned sardines and canned tuna... not to mention colorful-looking candy in shapes of fish, crackers that look like fish (those exist?), and... half-opened chewing gum with blue-and-black-colored packaging, labeled "Icy Sea Breeze."
"This... is a lot," he examines the fish crackers, "You hit a jackpot, huh?"
She says nothing.
"It means you got lucky," he clarifies.
"...No," she contends. "No luck... here."
RK half-agrees with her, considering the world they live in. He used to think there was nothing good in this world, nevermind luck. Not for him, anyway. He would never attribute any children's successes to something as intangible as "luck." That would be a disservice to them. If you survived enough to escape, you were not lucky. You endured.
But when he thinks about his friends, he wonders if he really deserved them. He wonders what generous deeds he accomplished to have the opportunity of knowing such children in his life. In a sense... he would say he was lucky to meet them.
"Sorry, didn't mean to discredit you like that," he rephrases. "I didn't know there was a place where you could find all of... this."
"Many places," she corrects him.
Ah. Well.
That made her feat ten times more commendable. How far did she travel to fill this bag up, he asked himself. And most of it was for him, too. Never in a million years did he expect Six of all children to willingly give him a present. And it was all food...
Always food, huh.
Not like he could blame her.
Was this her way of apologizing?
He knows that he's told her he prefers seafood, but having everything be in the shape of a fish is... kind of cute, to be honest. The idea that RK's favorite foods weighed in Six's head so heavily that she scavenged for anything that even remotely resembled a fish made RK's heart flutter a little.
The utter stupidity of that thought process made it all the more charming; it almost made him forget what she did to him. Almost.
He smiles to himself, and looks away from the bag to find Six twiddling her thumbs.
"What is it?"
She fidgets, and darts her eyes around various cracks in the floorboard, unable to look at her friend directly.
Then, she extends her hand, very slowly, in the form of a handshake.
RK observes how she has endured: tiny specks of mud under her half-chewed fingernails, her calloused and pasty hands, skin-deep bite marks all over her palms, bruises and scratches from god-knows-where... he would say he felt bad, but seeing those identifiers made him kind of happy, in a way. It showed your experience. RK's hands weren't that far off from looking like Six's. It bore the same calluses, the same bruises and scratches, the same dirt and grime... and so did Mono's, too.
Seeing those hands, he sees a child that has suffered in this world just as he has. It revealed to him that he was not alone, that he was never alone. That there were children who knew what he felt, who knew the meaning of fear and danger. In that way, it gave him a sort of comfort.
He did not know if that comfort was enough for him to be able to touch those hands.
Six recognized his hesitation, and in turn she slowly dropped said hand; but as she did so, RK witnessed a remarkable glint of dejection clouded in her eyes, something he had never seen before—
so he raised his own hand, much swifter compared to Six dropping hers, and clasped the two together.
It wasn't exactly in the form of a handshake; he held her by the fingers, not the palm. Six's eyes widened, and RK fought through the embarrassment of such a quick action; he laid his gift on the ground and was now standing up.
No words were exchanged. They did not need to (and perhaps used this as an excuse to shy away from the fact that they were both too flustered to speak).
His hands were shaking. He cursed this useless body of his that he could not control. He questioned if he should've accepted this offer at all. He hopes Six doesn't notice the ongrowing sweat on his palms.
They both stand there in silence, forgetting that there was even a third child in the room (who, surprisingly (or not), simply acts as a bystander).
RK's mind races, with blabbers of "what am I doing" and "holy shit why did I just do that."
Six interrupts these frantic thoughts by gently putting her free hand on top of his, embracing it wholly. He pretends not to notice the uncertainty in her maneuver.
He stands there, completely still, letting Six continue with whatever she's doing (he has no idea). He doesn't know that Six has no idea what she's doing either.
She squeezes, with a pressure so soft that he didn't register the miniscule indents on his skin until seconds after the fact. It's a squeeze that feels not unlike Mono's.
Well, she had to learn it from somewhere, right?
After what feels like eons, she mutters something unintelligible.
"...sorry."
"Huh?"
A pause.
She shuffles her feet, wishing she could just get it over with.
"...m'sorry."
Another pause.
"...What?"
A bit agitated, she speaks sooner and clearer this time.
"I'm sorry."
But RK waits twice as long.
Then he says,
"What?"
"I'm sorry!" she blurts, with her raspy and gruff voice that wasn't at all used to speaking above a whisper level.
RK stands there, eye contact unwavering and stance unmoving.
And he repeats,
"What?"
...
She punches him in the shoulder.
"Ow! Okay, okay, I'm sorry! I heard you, ahahaha! I heard you!"
Six glares at him, eyes squinting and mouth frowning. But her anger is only surface-level. She huffs.
RK clutches his shoulder and stomach, still laughing.
"Ahahaha... sorry, I couldn't help it..." he snickers. "That's the first time I heard you say that, so you know I had to hear it multiple times."
His giggles gradually lessen.
"Ah—ouch, you pack a killer punch..." he rubs his shoulder. "I guess I kinda deserve it, huh?"
He composes himself, and peers at Six directly.
"Thank you... for apologizing."
Six blushes, unequipped to handle gratitude. The only other person who said thank you to her was Mono. She gives an approving grunt in response.
A few seconds pass by, and she moves to slowly grab his hands again. Less hesitation this time, but still deliberate, as if he was a porcelain doll and she was afraid to break him.
She asks,
"Hug."
The way it rolled off her tongue made it sound more like a statement than a question, but he knew what she was going for anyway.
"...Yeah, okay."
He takes tiny steps towards her, and she replicates the same motions.
He wonders if this is the first time she asked him for something that wasn't food. He wonders if this is the first time he's laughed because of her. He wonders if this is the first time she's asked to hold his hand, to say sorry, to be as physically intimate as they've ever been.
He wonders if she cares about him.
He wonders if he cares about her.
...Of course he does.
That's why he's trying so hard, isn't it? To cross that boundary. To not let the past control his future. To overcome his fears. It's not easy, but god be damned if he was ever going to let Mono or Six see himself like that again.
And he supposes that answers his other question, too. Because he's not the only one trying. She, too, is attempting to be in control of herself. To create her own future. She, too, is attempting to reconcile.
They both idle in front of each other, scared to make the first move. He suddenly remembers that they aren't alone, and turns to look back at Mono. The boy looks relaxed, leaning back against the wall, crossed arms and a slightly perched up leg. He gives a tilt of his head in reassurance.
Always a first time for everything.
So he opens his arms, and Six flinches, probably not expecting him to take the lead. He pauses, and her shoulders relax. Her tiny nods give him permission to continue.
He envelopes his arms around her, a bit janky and uncertain. He can still feel the tensed up muscles around her body. As time goes on, however, she eases into the sensation.
He can't see her raised arms, but he hears the flutter of her raincoat shift as she repeats a similar process. And then he feels a cold, icy touch.
He, logically, knows it's her hand, but everything about it screamed inhuman. It seemed wrong, like it shouldn't be a human's, much less child's hand. It was cold, way too cold.
He questions how he didn't notice it before, when he was holding it. Did his hand warm hers? Did their short-lived separation cause it to return back to this temperature? He ponders if she always felt like this. He ponders if she got used to the numbing winter.
He could never get used to having things around his back. His back was a blind spot; what he couldn't see could hurt him. He's sure Six feels similar, if not even more so than him. She was always on edge, even in front of her.
RK guesses Six saw him recoil since she slightly backed off, peering into his eyes.
And then,
she craned her neck to the side, leaving a wide open space for him.
...
What was that for?
The gears in his mind turn as they hypothesize a reason for her actions. The neck was always a weak spot for many organisms. Despite its importance in overall function to the human body, it had barely any sort of defense, compared to other parts. So, for Six to willingly and voluntarily expose one of her weak points to him of all people (and not Mono)... RK didn't know how to react.
Was this another form of apology?
And then,
RK understands.
Does... does she want me to put my head on her shoulder?
Isn't the shorter one supposed to—well, whatever.
So he complies, and (slowly, but surely) rests his head on her shoulder.
As he leans closer, his nostrils are filled with the scent of rats and sidewalk pebbles. He doesn't care, because he knows he doesn't smell that good either. And she still holds him.
He feels... warm.
Perhaps not physically, in his stomach, in his chest, in his pulsating, all-too-loud heartbeats that he only hopes Six doesn't notice. It fills him in a way food never could, and gives him a sense of security that no roof over his head could ever surpass. He feels welcome, he feels safe, he feels... solace. He wonders if this was the same child who ate him, the same child who walked out in a fit and returned to give them groceries, the same child who held his hand like he was a newborn baby.
Six... is an interesting person, he thinks.
He wonders if this is what Mono feels when they hug. He wonders what Six thinks of his hugs. He hopes he isn't too cold. His clothes weren't the thickest.
Her grip on him gets tighter, which he doesn't really mind, but then her strength increases and there's a slight uncomfortable feeling—not too bad that it was painful, but it was enough for him to be acutely aware of.
It wasn't like she was constraining him as if he was some wild animal, like a rat (and he's seen how she captures her victims), it was more akin to... an infant afraid to let go of their mother. One who pulls at the sleeves, enough to signal a reaction, but never too staggering that the mother would trip and topple over. As if Six was afraid of letting him go, of being alone. As if she wanted something to touch, to feel, to hold.
And then he hears breaths. Rough, staggered breaths, slow and deep inhales and exhales. Six nudges her face deeper into his shoulder, and he feels the hot air blowing onto his shirt. The tiny view of her side-profile that he could see in the corner of his eye now turned into a back view of her obnoxiously bright hood.
Her nails dug into his thin mess of fabric called a shirt and he wants to say something, but he stops himself. Her noises... it sounded, it sounded like—
like she was crying.
But there were no tears. He did not feel wetness coming from her face. Hell, he didn't feel any kind drool or snot or anything a child would normally do when they would cry. Six did none of that. RK was confounded, if you were going to heave and breathe so loudly why stop yourself from crying—
and then, a thought crept into his mind: that perhaps she could not cry. That, perhaps, no matter how much she begged and pleaded, she could not will her body to. That, perhaps, she was just like any other child, one who wanted to cry and bawl and look like a ugly mess while being patted and comforted and told that everything's going to be okay.
That, just perhaps, it wasn't a matter of why she didn't, but that it was more of why she couldn't.
Never in a million years would he think that he'd get to see Six like... this. Hell, he'd never thought she'd say sorry to him, but she did. Doesn't that prove him wrong then? That she was capable of feeling emotions, of feeling guilt? That she truly didn't want to eat him, that it wasn't enjoyable for her at all? That, even if she caused him pain, she was in pain herself?
...Thinking about these kinds of things was so complicated. The world was much easier when he could simply describe something was good and something was bad. He felt that way for a long time about adults, but as he grew up, he understood that the world wasn't so black-and-white. That doesn't mean he's not wary of them, though. You could never keep your guard down for too long.
Still, for all the times he'd interact with other children on the Maw, he never had a situation like this before. There's an itch at the back of his head, telling him that he's holding the same person who ate him, the same person who hurt him. That this child in the middle is a threat, that this child is something he should fear. It made him want to scramble away, to push her off, to escape and flee back to what he felt was normal.
Another part of him reminded RK that this was his friend. That she was in emotional distress, and that he should support her because he's her friend and that children should stick together no matter what. It told him to be kind. Even if his kindness was the reason he got into that situation in the first place. Perhaps his generosity would become his ultimate downfall. Perhaps, one day, he would act a little too friendly, offer something a little too charitable, and then meet the same end just as he did before.
Still...
He cannot help it.
If he had an option of being kind and not being kind, he would choose the former, every single time.
Maybe he is a bit stubborn, in that way.
Maybe he did deserve to get eaten.
Even so...
He would do it again.
It would be against his moral judgement if he pushed her off of him; even if she was holding onto him a little too tightly, even if she was the cause of his flashbacks and nightmares, even if he felt vaguely awkward with his friend that he was somewhat mad at and scared of at the same time.
So RK steels himself, and embraces Six into a sincere hug. He holds her close and tight, just as he wishes he had been. He hugs her like he hugs his lovely little friends, those Nomes. It was a little humorous to him, imagining her as one of those stupid yet well-meaning critters. Six leans closer into his embrace, and grips his back even tighter. It hurts a little, but he doesn't mind. He lets Six wallow in her own way, to release whatever was pent up inside of that small body of hers, because god knows how long she's been keeping everything inside.
He couldn't even notice footsteps coming towards him, not until he feels the pressure and body heat of another child. And when he opens his eyes (he didn't even notice he closed them), he sees Mono wrapping his arms around Six and him. Mono leans his head on the other side of Six's shoulder, and RK can hear her breathe even harder, like Mono was the stepping stone she needed to break the dam. His bones ache a little after being in the same position for so long, but the warmth of his friends make him forget about any pain, it makes him forget that tonight was a particularly chilly night.
RK's eyes close, and he takes in the feeling of this moment. He bores it into memory, never letting it be forgotten. He reminds himself of what he's done, what he's been through, and how far he's gotten. He reminds himself that he used to be alone. But that is no more. Lately, he begins to remember less of what "lonely" feels like. Solitude used to be a familiarity, now it is a stranger, one he hopes to forget entirely.
Gradually the harsh gulps and pitiful gasps lessen, mellowed out by the echoes of bugs and rats crawling around the corners of the room, into the walls, and every other room across them.
It is then that he can hear his own breaths, he can hear Mono's breaths, and he can feel Six's breaths.
And yet, even after Six's breathing pattern returns to normal, even after she rests, and looks like she's sleeping (she probably is), he does not feel any wetness on his shoulders. He does not feel tears, snot, or saliva. It's a bit weird, honestly, because he's never heard of someone crying without tears, but he doesn't judge. She's probably wanted to do that for a long time.
It is then that his brain replays the scene of Six craning her neck in his mind. It is then, he surmises, that him letting Six lay her head on his shoulder wouldn't probably be the wisest choice; it would get her pretty close to his neck.
"You should apologize to Mono too, you know."
"Mhhmm."
"It's okay, she already did."
"Oh. When?"
"She gave me crackers!"
"...Did she even say sorry?"
"Nope!"
"..."
"You forgive her too easily."