Chapter Text
The television in Mono’s room isn’t just for show. Ever since gifts started coming from it, he suspected that it was really just a communication line between him and the Thin Man. A telephone where only one person could talk into the speaker. Mono, in a new pair of slippers, aims toy after toy at the screen, trying to get at least one thing to go through. He gives pause when he finds a wooden donkey in the toy chest, similar to the one he and Six had played with in the hospital.
Mono throws it at the wall so hard that its neck goes crooked. He should be able to go through the TV himself, though he might be rusty, since he hasn’t done it in a while. Also, he was a little scared to try. Pulling away from the screen at the last second makes his body go all fuzzy, and it hurts. He has mostly overcome this trepidation because of the possibility of escape.
Though it’s not really escape, more like...just going out for a bit. He wants to see how the outside has changed, and if Six is still…
The idea of finding his friend(?) again terrifies him. At the same time, he doesn’t even remember the last thing he said to her. Their parting was abrupt and, on Six’s part, coldly deliberate. Mono kneels before the screen. If he focuses, he can feel where the other televisions in the tower are. Extending his connection further would reveal the ones outside.
Static fills his ears until his head throbs. Mono puts his hands to the screen, and it’s as if he never stopped manipulating the transmission. The tunnel before him twists as easily as a wet rag. Mono’s heart pounds in anticipation. He feels two other televisions in the vicinity: the one in the kitchen, and one where the Thin Man initially found him. That’s the Thin Man’s room, now, and if the lines are not being monitored, then he’s probably asleep or out.
Mono stretches his concentration further, despite the pain it brings him. He now senses more lines spreading beyond the Tower, into the dilapidated apartments beyond. And, through those screens, he feels the presence of people watching. His senses have expanded beyond himself; he now feels the tower and its immediate surroundings as physical extensions of his body. He now knows what it feels like to be wet wood and slippery metal, to be struck by lightning and absorb its energy, to be a train idling in its station.
Blood drips from his nose as he stretches farther. At this point, Six wouldn’t be anywhere near the tower. She might not even be in the Pale City anymore. Who knows how much time has passed since…? Maybe there are other children nearby who have survived. There’s no way of knowing right now, though. He can only sense that something is alive, not what it is.
Lightning shatters the sky, travels through the waves in the air, and shocks Mono. He tears his hands away from the television and falls back with a cry. He’s shaking so badly that he can’t even sit up. When he tries, his head pulses so intensely it might break his head open. The ringing in his ears engulfs all else, so he doesn’t realize the Thin Man is there until a shadow passes over him. He blinks up at his elder, mouth gaping like a fish out of water. The only sound he can manage is a moan.
The Thin Man scoops Mono into his hands, and tries not to show his panic. His brow is creased in distress, though nowhere near the amount that the child must be feeling. It only took a few minutes of his absence for Mono to fall into a critical state. Anything that happens to him is on the Thin Man. He’s not going to lose Mono again because of his own incompetence and neglect.
He is always deliberate in his movements, but now he dithers, unsure where he should take the boy. His nose is bleeding, so he should get a wet rag from the bathroom to clean it off, but he’s in obvious pain, so should he put him in bed?
Just as he’s starting to panic, Mono brings him back to reality with a wet cough. The more he hesitates, the worse Mono is going to get. The Thin Man shuffles to the bathroom, and twists the warm faucet on all the way. The rushing water drowns flushes the rest of his thoughts down the drain when he sees the line of blood running down Mono’s chin. He lies very still and scrunched up in the Thin Man’s palm, only flinching when the wet rag is pressed against his face.
“Nnngh,” Mono whines, trying to move his head back.
“Tilt your head forward for me,” the Thin Man urges, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice. “That’s it, good. Just try to hold still.”
Mono struggles and wails into the rag. Dimly, the Thin Man notices that the sink is still running. With a glance, the air warps, and it shuts off with a squeak. The sudden quiet only amplifies Mono’s sounds of distress. All the Thin Man can do is cushion his face with the cloth and try to shush him. It takes several minutes until the flow of blood stops, and the boy looks rather thin and drawn from the ordeal. He quivers in the Thin Man’s hold like an injured bird.
What was he thinking, leaving such a small child alone while he went out? He should’ve realized his mistake before the tower’s signal started to go haywire.
The bathroom walls creak, and bits of plaster rain down. The Thin Man leaves the room, Mono in hand, before the facade of the building can crack any further. This little incident piqued the curiosity of the tower itself, and he’s not going to stick around to see its fleshy innards show itself.