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Rinne knew he’d like deep space—at least some part of him did—but the fact he’s been enjoying it this much has surprised every part of him.
It’s nothing like the bland simplicity of Earth or Mars or even Kepler-245b. Without earthen conditions, it’s like any earthen sense of society vanishes right along with it. The people (people?) are nothing like himself despite sharing cells with nuclei and DNA and usually a need for the basics like air, water, and food. It’s like a culture shock, but instead of a wimpy little spark, it’s a motherfucking lightning bolt.
Rinne doubts he’ll ever get enough of it.
The shapes are more than fat and thin and the sizes are more than short and tall and the colors are more than tan and brown and white and black . The only thing anyone has in common is a brain (or something similar) and the ability to think, and even then, that has its exceptions, especially here.
In the smack-dab middle of deep space, in a city that explodes with activity both metaphorically and literally, there’s no such thing as boring, no such thing as too much . In fact, even someone like him, a menace and a bother back on Earth, is about as irksome as a single speck of dust here. He has to actively try to even be looked at twice, to get the needle of attention in his veins and get him hooked and hysterical all over again.
Getting out of that pit is still the best decision he’s ever made. On Earth, that’s where the poor and the unadventurous stay. That’s where life goes on as it has for the past, what, 10,000 years? Without a single thing changing? With the most trouble you can get into being punching someone’s teeth in at a bar that doesn't even have the music playing loud enough to give you a migraine?! Like hell was he gonna stay there, and like hell is he ever returning! The buzz never leaves his head here, and here it’s pleasant , not something that makes him itch and scramble for something, anything to entertain himself.
He’s sending money back, anyway. He works enough that everyone back home is juuuuust fine . He’s figured out how to work all sorts of gambling games here, and he’s hardly had to set foot in one of those suffocating white soundproof labs ever since he’s started making so much money from gambling that it’s obscene.
In fact, he’s mailing away money right now, sprawled across the floor behind the bar’s counter as Niki rushes around, a cocktail shaker in each hand and at least twenty different vials of edible glitter hanging from glowsticks wrapped around his tail. He’s in a long-sleeved dress shirt that does nothing to hide the dark grey of his skin or the white swathes all over it with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. At least the glittery waistcoat he’s wearing with it makes his figure look good.
Like just about everyone else here (aside from Rinne), he looks humanoid at best, and Rinne has stopped thinking of animals to try and compare everyone to a long time ago since nothing ever fit. It’s all just… just aliens —but Rinne’s alien here than the actual aliens, ha !
As soon as he hits SEND on the aching blue screen of the hologram projected from one of his rings, the bones in his hand jolt with the buzz of an incoming call.
And the call keeps hanging up and restarting as Rinne fumbles to get his earpiece on, continuously knocking the knuckles in his hand together and making his rings clack . He can’t hear it with how loud the music is (yes, he has a migraine, but the medicine he’s got on prescription numbs him just enough), but he can sure as hell feel the call, especially when the soft inside of his pointer finger gets pinched by one of his decorative rings.
Who the fuck even calls someone like this? Rinne’s long since gotten rid of all the scam and death threat phone calls, so…
ACCEPT CALL
“BROTHER!”
Huh? “Since when did Ma let you get on the computer and let you call whoever the hell ya want?”
“Huh? Rinne, I’m allowed to do what I want to as long as I’m responsible. I’m sixteen. Plus, we can afford to do more than treasure the computer as if it’s about to break.” Even with the screen’s blue light, the warm yellow glow of the room Hiiro’s in, the kitchen, washes over Rinne. He’s so used to painfully bright lights now that he doesn't even squint.
Instead, he sits up and grins, not homesick at the sight in the slightest. “And that’s aaaaaall thanks to little ol’ me!”
“It is!” Hiiro agrees, all big eyes and earnesty, and Rinne watches as she scoots closer to the computer screen, leaning in as if about to tell a secret, voice dropping. “Do you remember what today is?”
No . Why the fuck would he have to?
But he doesn't say that to his little sister’s face and just throws out the first thing he can think of. “Culture Day?”
“That’s in November. It’s August , Rinne.”
“What the hell does that have to do with me?”
There it is. That faint disapproving look that makes Hiiro look almost identical to their mother, the difference being their mother has long hair and actually tells Rinne off when he upsets her. Hiiro only ever mopes. She’s been doing it for the past couple of months—if Rinne didn't know better than to, he’d call her an expert.
“...Aww, c’mon, girl, what is it?” Rinne grins at Hiiro, trying to get that look off her face, but her expression only falls more.
“Mother is mad that you forgot about her sister’s birthday. Auntie didn't even want money, just for you to wish her well. She was talking to Mother, and she said deep space is corrupting you and making you forget where you came from.”
Rinne can barely bite back an irritated Oh my God, her? , but he manages and simply curls his lip. “Didn’t y’all want me outta there first ?”
His voice comes out sharper than intended, and like always, he doesn't even have to try and guess how Hiiro feels about his commentary. She’s like an open book with the way her brows draw together and her lips part silently, at a loss for a reply.
So Rinne presses on against his better judgement, eager to get the call over with if it’s just going to be Hiiro parroting whatever bullshit their relatives spout about Rinne and what a crappy person he is.
“Auntie didn't do a damn thing to me to make her birthday worth my time. If she didn't run around treatin’ me like hellspawn back on Earth, maybe I’d at least keep her in my thoughts, but she ain’t worth it, capeesh?”
“Don’t speak ill of her like that!” Hiiro snaps, looking scandalized as she glares into the camera, but her voice readily loses its edge. “She… she said she meant well. She just wasn't expecting you to get so wrapped up in the… the nightlife there.”
God . “First of all,” Rinne rolls his eyes, “it’s always night in these parts since I’m so damn far away from the Sun.
“Second of all, don’t say she means well ! You know damn well she shit she says about you of all people. I know you’re not so stupid that you don't notice it! She hasn't done either of us any good!”
That’s not fair , a voice chides in the back of Rinne’s mind, and he has to agree, especially when Hiiro goes silent, but he ignores it. Shit, why isn't there a single rebellious bone in her body? Their family and family friends could bend her like a slinky and she’d just fucking take it . Rinne left because he couldn't stomach watching that any more!
Hiiro finally says something, and her voice is distant, so Rinne turns the call volume up to hear. “...Auntie is trying her best, Rinne. It may come out wrong, but I… I really don't think she wants to hurt anyone.”
“Oh?” Rinne lets his lip curl, even though this is your little sister the only person in your family you actually adore are you really about to go all in for some stupid argument when you could just fucking let it go? “And I’m not ‘trying my best’?”
Silence.
Well, silence in one ear since the earpiece is soundproof. The other ear is currently aching from the bass of whatever song is playing. It’s pretty neat that they still have idol music out here, even if it’s totally differe—
“...nk so.”
Oh, he missed that. “What? ¿Repita, por favor?”
Another beat of silence. And then Hiiro’s voice sounds again, brittle but clear.
“I–I don’t think so. I don’t think you’re trying your best, Rinne.”
He’s not sure why her honesty surprises him, or why it blows on the embers of his temper and sets him aflame again. But he’s not one for getting red in the face and making a fool of himself, so he slathers on a casual grin instead and makes his tone a little more patronizing.
“And what’s that got to do with you, Hiiro? I’m gettin’ paid, an—”
“EVERYTHING!”
Rinne’s suddenly rushing to turn the volume down as he’s hit by an onslaught of words.
“It has EVERYTHING to do with me!” Hiiro’s voice cracks. “You weren't raised to do whatever THIS is! WHAT HAPPENED ??? WHY WON’T YOU EVEN CALL FIRST?!? I MISS YOU, RINNE! I WANT YOU TO COME HOME! IT’S SO LONELY WITHOUT YOU AND IT FEELS LIKE YOU DON’T EVEN KIND OF MISS ME! AND—”
“Wait, wait, calm the fuck down, Hiiro—”
She doesn't even hear him. “—ARE YOU ACTUALLY JUST HAPPY TO BE RID OF ME? DOES YOUR GAMBLING MATTER MORE? I EVEN STARTED REAL SCHOOL THIS MONTH AND I HAVEN’T MENTIONED IT ‘CAUSE I FEEL LIKE YOU’D LAUGH AT ME FOR IT INSTEAD OF REASSURING ME LIKE YOU USED TO! DO I REALLY NOT MATTER AT ALL!?!”
Hiiro’s crying now, red in the eyes and trying to cover her face with both hands as her words start to slur together, nails digging crescents into her forehead and the bridge of her nose.
Rinne moves to hang up, but Hiiro notices from between her fingers and snaps to attention, fists hitting the desk.
“DON’T HANG UP!” she yelps, shrill with hysteria now. “AM I REALLY SO STUPID THAT YOU’RE HAPPIER WITHOUT ME? IS IT FUN TO TALK LIKE YOU’RE SMARTER AND BETTER THAN ME LIKE EVERYONE ELSE BECAUSE YOU’RE NOT AN IDIOT?!”
And that’s not the point, that’s not why he’s happier , but how the fuck is he supposed to explain that?!
Hiiro is trying to burn Rinne with her eyes and Rinne’s breath is oddly shaky in his throat as he shakes his head slowly, pulse in his temples, and taps into the ‘responsible older brother’ persona he hasn't touched since December and forces an even tone.
“Hiiro. You’re stressed out by more than just me being in space. Figure all that out, and then we’ll talk.”
That’s not fair , the voice (his conscience?) insists as Rinne watches Hiiro’s shoulders curl inwards, gaze no longer on the computer. She’s probably too worn from her explosion earlier to cry over how he sounded patronizing just then, too, how he brushed her off like a gnat.
Hiiro doesn't try to protest when Rinne hangs up this time, and with an idol group he doesn't recognize blaring in the background, Rinne starts to feel every ache in his head and body a little more acutely.
Fuck.