Chapter Text
Summer rain is the best kind of rain. It’s like a refreshing shower, granting you a little break from the season’s perpetual, aggressive heatwaves. Like all rain, it creates pleasant sounds when it platters against your windows that make up an ideal background noise for reading or painting. And if you’re outside, you’re probably going to get away with running through the rain without catching a horrible cold afterwards, because the warmth in the atmosphere makes up for it. And maybe, when the rain fades, you’ll catch sight of a rainbow stretching itself over the sky. You can explain to your six year old little sister how this natural phenomenon occurs, and she will not understand, like she did not understand the last four times you explained it to her, but she will smile and nod anyway and continue to look at the sky.
The summer rain is, however, still soaking through Albedo’s clothes right now, even his shoes. His hair is sticking to his face, and he can feel it dripping with water that forms little drops, which then run down his neck. By the time he gets home, his backpack will probably be soaked too. He sends a few prayers to gods he didn’t know he believed in until now to give strength to the books, papers and notes that are currently in his bag in these trying times. It’s a shame he lives so close to the school, because if he didn’t, he could’ve taken some kind of bus. And that’s coming from someone who despises every little thing about buses, from the crowded, small space over to the smelly air and to the feeling of the seats’ gross fabric rubbing against their back. Any bus’ next stop would be even farther away from where he lives, it wouldn’t make sense to take one, so he just has to suffer through this walk in the rain.
Summer is one of the bad seasons. It’s simply too hot, and if Albedo hates one thing more than being on a bus, it’s feeling too hot. Well, he doesn’t exactly fancy being too cold either, but he tends to be rather resistant to cold weather; snow and ice doesn’t phase him much, he actually rather enjoys it. It keeps his mind cool.
Much unlike the heat, which makes him feel dizzy and uncomfortable all over. Unfortunately, spring is over now, and he can’t even sit in his room and do nothing all day yet because it’s still the middle of the semester, which his teachers seem to interpret as an opportunity to stack them with a load of work that grows so big in so little time, anyone who doesn’t dedicate his life to making sure they have every insignificant event as small as a due english essay written down on three different calendars would barely be able to breathe. Lucky for Albedo, he doesn’t ever plan on being that kind of person. The only hobbies he has (painting and reading wikipedia articles on utterly trivial topics that pique his interest, then filing the gained information away in his brain until said topic comes up in a class or in a conversation with his sister or mother so he can utilise his knowledge on it, which, to be quite frank, does not ever happen, but that doesn’t stop him from repeating this activity over and over again) don’t have a fixed schedule. So doing school work for hours on end has never been and will probably never be an issue. He can’t imagine an activity he would like to pursue other than those listed above, and although he doesn’t like most of the things he learns for school very much, being on top of his work makes him feel a lot more at ease. That’s at least one thing he doesn’t have to constantly worry about, because he has enough of those in his life. Sometimes, Albedo feels like all he ever does is worry. It’s a nuisance.
To stop himself from worrying too much about worrying too much, he starts to mentally make a list. He would have to write it down later. He does this every day, to the point where there are these huge piles of sheets of paper in his room he doesn’t want to get rid of, even if they’re taking up all his space and he’s long completed the tasks written out on them. They feel almost like a protocol of his life, a journal he keeps to remind himself of what he does all day. Without the lists, he would probably forget. Which can be a little depressing at times, feeling as though you do nothing, so he holds onto every list he’s written ever since making them became a habit of his.
Albedo has to double-take when he enters the house and is immediately hit with the smell of… food. Did his sister try to take over the kitchen again? At least this time it wouldn’t be his fault. He can’t exactly stop her from using the microwave if he isn’t present.
But this doesn’t smell like burnt popcorn. It actually smells good. Better than any of the instant noodles he and Klee have been having for lunch and dinner for the last two weeks because Albedo doesn’t quite trust himself to cook an actual meal.
He sets his bag down and takes off his gross, wet shoes before making his way to the kitchen, where his suspicion is confirmed.
“What are you doing here so early?” he asks his mother Alice, who’s standing at the kitchen counter, staring at the tomato she’s currently trying to chop into small pieces. She briefly looks up at him, flashing him a wide smile before looking back at her hands.
“I don’t even get a ‘hello’?” She sounds lighthearted, much happier than when she comes home in the evenings, exhausted from work. It makes Albedo’s chest hurt. He wishes she were home early more often. “I got the day off, so I decided to make lunch! Those noodles you keep warming up can’t be any good for you kids,” she gestures towards the bin, probably referring to all the cups that are pretty much its only contents.
When she looks up at Albedo once again, her smile falters. “You’re soaking wet,” she notes, frowning.
“It’s raining outside.”
Alice chuckles, causing her hair to fall into her face. She tucks it behind her ear, accidentally staining her cheek with tomato sauce. The sight makes Albedo laugh.
“I can see that,” she says. “Well, get changed and bring your sister downstairs with you. Lunch will be ready in a minute.”
Once he’s changed, the three of them are sitting at the table in the kitchen. Klee is already shoving food into her mouth while Albedo tells himself not to get used to being served actually good food before he even takes a bite. When he does, it’s delicious and it makes him wish he could cook as well.
Klee tells them about everything that happened at school - and by everything Albedo means everything , from the second she entered the building to when she got off the bus and waved her friends goodbye. After a while, Albedo spaces off, thinking about his list and the food. Don’t get him wrong, he loves his sister, but her daily adventures at school are even more repetitive than Albedo’s afternoon routines, and at this point he could probably recite all of Klee’s school stories by heart after how many times he’s heard them. Besides, their mum is here too, so at least there’s one person who’s listening to Klee’s rambling.
Once she’s mentioned everything she wanted to say in excruciating detail, Alice manages to get a word in.
“I have good news,” she says, putting down her cutlery like she’s about to drop a bomb of some sort. Albedo really hopes she isn’t. “I finally found you a babysitter, Klee!”
Albedo blinks, confused. He didn’t know Alice had been looking for a baby sitter. He can’t figure out why she would . “But I always take care of Klee. A babysitter isn’t necessary, since I spend all of my time at home anyway,” he states the obvious. Alice shakes her head.
“I know, I know,” she says,” but I thought if I got someone to look after Klee, maybe you would go outside more!”
She says it cheerfully, but Albedo doesn’t like where this is going. He doesn’t want to ‘go outside more’. He’s perfectly content spending his free time in his room. By himself. Every day.
“You could sign up for some extracurricular activities, or maybe join a sports group,” she continues.
Actually, he would rather die. But before Albedo can complain about how his mother is basically telling him to get a hobby at the lunch table, Klee interrupts.
“Who is the babysitter? Are they nice? Can they cook?”
Albedo tries not to take offence to that last question.
Alice’s smile brightens even more. Clearly this is the kind of enthusiasm she was hoping for rather than Albedo’s attempts at politely protesting. “He’s a boy around Albedo’s age. My coworker recommended him to me, since he’s trying to earn himself some pocket money by babysitting. I talked to him on the phone earlier, he seems really nice!”
Her voice fades into the background as Albedo tries to come up with something that will help him deal with the mess his mum has unintentionally created.
Extracurricular activities, huh. He really hates that thought. What even are his options? He could help out in the library, though he isn’t really interested in books that aren’t about art or science. He could join the chemistry club. That sounds more bearable than doing sports at least, still slightly nightmare-ish though when he thinks about all the people who could possibly show up there as well, who he would have to talk to if that were the case. Imagining all the group projects and presentations he would be forced to cope with doing makes him want to go up to his room and hide. And maybe as well cling to something so it would be impossible to drag him away from his things. Not that he would even be very good at clinging to something, he has to admit as he thinks about it more, which relates back to his aversion to sports.
The topic won’t really leave him alone - or more like the dread that fills his chest because everything seems to suddenly remind him of the choice he might have to make and the consequences it might come with. He is eventually forced by his own spiralling mind to look his school’s extracurricular program up on their school website. After he consults it some more, he is deeply discomposed by the photos of happy teenagers putting their arms on each other’s shoulders in order to showcase the companionship they have gained by joining x-club, and briefly contemplates moving to another country to save himself from this misery. He might be a little bit dramatic, he realises.
He keeps the option in the back of his mind either way and is finally able to focus on his homework. When he’s done, he puts today’s list on the pile of lists on his desk, and then he starts painting while listening to the rain. And that’s what he keeps doing all day long, because what else is there to do, really?
* * *
When he steps out of the school building the next day, he has a déjà-vu moment as he realises that it’s raining again. Which is strange, because he hasn’t noticed the rain all day while he was at school. He figures it must’ve started recently or he would’ve definitely noticed. Normally, no little noise goes unnoticed by him. Which might sound like a useful ability to have, but he would generally label it as rather bothersome. He really craves to turn his obligatory attentiveness off sometimes because all the noises around him just feel like too much. It’s a real shame that’s not how the human mind works.
Albedo once again walks home in the pouring rain. He grimly thinks of those cheesy movies that Alice sometimes watches on TV, where the scenes featuring a character running through the rain and oftentimes into the arms of their lover, are depicted as romantic. He doesn’t feel romantic. He feels like a washing cloth.
When he turns into his street, he can see someone sitting on their doorstep. He can’t make out who they are, as much as he squints - he should really get glasses.
As he gets closer, he can see dark blue hair. The closer he gets, the more familiar the person sitting on the wet doorstep seems. He still can’t seem to identify them, though.
And then he stops trying to find out who that is and starts asking himself why exactly there is a boy sitting on their doorstep. He doesn’t have to wonder for long though, because the guy basically jumps to his feet when he spots Albedo.
“Ah, finally! I take it you live here?” he asks, and Albedo momentarily freezes. He takes the guy in. His long hair that’s tied together loosely. And his eyes - his eye . Because the other eye is covered by a black eyepatch.
“I do,” he manages.
“Great. And this is also Alice’s house?” The boy’s glance is intense, his piercing blue eye feeling like it’s seeing right through him. Albedo averts his gaze.
“Yes, Alice is my mother,” he says, wary of the boy's motive for asking him about this still. “May I ask what you’re doing here?”
He chuckles - Albedo has no idea why - then proceeds to say, “Alice hired me as a babysitter. I’m Kaeya, by the way,” he pauses, “Though you already know me.”
Albedo frowns. “I do?” he can’t stop himself from asking. Which is probably rude. He could have at least pretended to know the guy. He does seem familiar to him after all; maybe if he thought about it a little more, he would remember where he’s seen Kaeya before.
“I’m in your maths class. And in art, too. Have you never noticed me before?” Albedo is struggling to tell whether Kaeya’s tone indicated that he’s offended. He gives up after a second and instead looks up at his face again. Art and maths, huh. Now that he thinks about it, he faintly remembers Kaeya sitting in the second row in the classroom, next to a blonde girl Albedo really can’t recall the name of.
“Are you the guy who did that presentation on the homosexual subtext of ancient art pieces?” he says. Kaeya breaks into a smile.
“That was a great presentation, don’t you think so?”
“Didn’t the teacher give you a D for it because your PowerPoint presentation contained too many spelling errors and stopped working halfway through?”
Kaeya makes a pained noise. “Yeah, but apart from that-”
Albedo can already feel his socks becoming soggy with how much it’s raining. He quickly reaches for the keys in his bag.
“How long have you been sitting here anyway?” he asks as he unlocks the door.
“Around twenty minutes?” Kaeya says like that’s an okay amount of time to sit around on a wet doorstep in the rain. “Alice wanted me to come over at two, but when I rang the doorbell, nobody opened.”
Albedo nods. Sounds like something his mother would do; make appointments and then forget about them. Maybe he should call her. He probably should.
“You can come in. I’ll call her.” He steps aside to make space for Kaeya, who hurries inside and immediately takes his shoes off. Albedo makes a mental note to offer him a towel once he’s called Alice.
It turns out that Alice really did forget their appointment and went to the grocery store instead. Albedo wonders if he will end like this too one day, though it seems unlikely. He still has his lists after all. The thought reassures him briefly, until it provokes a slightly uneasy feeling to rise in his chest because he wants to go to his room and make a list, but he can’t just leave Kaeya standing in the corridor. Essentially, Alice and her weird babysitter-plan is impending his well-being once again. First the extracurricular activities, and now this. He should complain to her about it - but he’s sure she’ll leave to work after her appointment with Kaeya again. Maybe he should write her an E-Mail of complaint - the idea is so ridiculous, it makes him involuntarily huff out a laugh.
“What’s funny?” Kaeya asks - right. Albedo almost forgot he’s in the room.
“Nothing,” he says, handing Kaeya a towel he snatched from the bathroom just now. Kaeya smiles at him and Albedo looks away. It’s incredibly awkward and he just wants to leave . But Alice would kill him (not that he thinks she has the right to judge him for any of the choices he’s making right now since this is entirely her fault.)
“So, what are your plans for the afternoon?”
Albedo furrows his eyebrows. He almost wants to say ‘What, mine?’ to make sure he’s the one addressed, but he is the only other person in the room. Why is he asking him about his plans? Is it out of interest? To make smalltalk?
“Nothing,” Albedo manages after a way-too-long pause. If Kaeya is attempting to have a conversation with him, he isn’t exactly playing into it.
“Nothing?” The way he dries his hair off - wrapping the towel around it and squeezing, like he’s trying to wring it out - is weird and mildly distracting. “Surely someone like you wouldn’t spend their free time mindlessly, no?” He throws the towel over his shoulder. Really weird.
“What do you mean by that?” Albedo can’t help but ask. He moves to the kitchen and Kaeya automatically follows after him.
“Well, judging from the impression one gets from you in maths and art, you’re definitely talented in many fields. You never fail to give a clever answer to what our teachers ask you.”
Albedo shakes his head. Is that really how others perceive him? That’s quite funny, then, because most of the time, he has no idea what is even going on around him (he probably gets that from Alice.) It’s nice to know that it apparently doesn’t show on the outside.
“Don’t shake that pretty head of yours, you know it’s true.” Albedo doesn’t know how to reply. The random compliments threw him off - though that just seems to be Kaeya’s natural way of communication. He wonders how that doesn’t exhaust him.
Either way, he has no idea what to say to that. Luckily, he doesn’t have to.
“Albedo! Look at the cool drawing I made at school today!” Klee comes running down the stairs with a piece of paper in her hand. She abruptly comes to a halt when she spots Kaeya.
“Who are you?” she asks him with an incredibly confused expression on her face. Albedo has to suppress a smile.
“I’m Kaeya,” He walks up to her and shakes her tiny hand, which probably makes her feel like a grown-up, judging by how her expression shifts into a proud smile. “I’ll probably be looking after you when your mum isn’t home.”
“You’re the babysitter,” she concludes, giving him what is probably supposed to be a professional nod. Then she promptly turns to Albedo.
“Why is he a pirate?” she asks him as if Kaeya isn’t right there. Kaeya laughs.
“I hate to disappoint,” Kaeya interjects, “But I’m not a pirate.”
“Then why are you wearing an eyepatch?”
“ Klee, ” Albedo hisses, sensing the question might be insensetive. It’s rude to ask people about stuff like this - at least he guesses the eyepatch might be there for medical reasons (although it doesn’t look medical at all, just like something you’d buy at a halloween store.) Even if it isn’t, he can imagine it would be unpleasant to be questioned about your appearance right after meeting someone. Or just in general.
But Kaeya just laughs once more. Albedo wants to shake his head at the scene, but he stays still and watches.
“Well, why do you think I’m wearing an eyepatch?” Kaeya asks, like they’re playing a guessing game. Klee takes a moment to think before shrugging.
“I dunno,” she says, “Looks kinda weird.”
Now Albedo does shake his head. He wants to judge his sister for her poor social skills, but if he’s being honest, it would be rich coming from him.
Kaeya doesn’t take offence to her bluntness. Albedo guesses this proves he’s at least somewhat good with children. If he were in Kaeya’s position right now, he probably would’ve combusted around three times already.
Alice comes home shortly after and Albedo can finally move on with his day, which he is endlessly grateful for. He already feels exhausted and it’s only Tuesday. Now he can finally go to his room and make a list now. He will work through that list, and then he will be able to rest to the sound of rain pattering against his window.
* * *
Albedo is staring at the lists of extracurricular activities on the school’s big board in the entry hall. There’s a list for every club or sports team, where students are expected to write their names down. Which many of them already did, as it seems. Like he is going to do.
Like he would be doing right now if he wasn’t still clueless about what activity he is even going to decide on.
Book club. Chess club. Chemistry club, Improv club, Photography club, Cooking club… he doesn’t have the faintest idea what to choose, much less any desire to even participate in any of these.
His eyes find another paper that says ‘Art History Club’ on the top. It reminds him of Kaeya and his presentation. He would enjoy that one, he thinks.
Then the bell rings, and he thinks ‘fuck it,’ putting his name down on the list. He likes art. He doesn’t hate history. Surely a combination of the both will work out for him.
Maybe this isn’t exactly the type of hobby Alice hoped he would get - it’s just another class after all - but it is something that will keep him and his room separated for a few more hours per week, which he thinks was the point of her suggestion in the first place.
When Alice isn’t at work, she makes it quite obvious that she is worried about him. About the papermess in his room, his lack of friends, his general state of mind - no matter how many times he’s tried to explain to her that he is fine, more than fine like this, or else he would change something about his life. It kind of annoys him - how she feels entitled to judge whether the way he goes about living his life is good for him while she can’t even be bothered to see for herself because she’s never at home.
He forces the thought away as quickly as it occurs to him. Alice works hard every day so Klee and him can live a carefree life. She works her ass off for them, and Albedo can’t even be grateful for it. He should be. He is . He just really misses… well, he just misses having her around more.
He tries to forget all about it as he enters the chemistry lab. Chemistry is nice. Chemistry is fun. Makes for a good distraction from depressing thoughts.
Technically he’s late, but the teacher doesn’t seem to notice because everyone in the room is jumping around and screaming at each other, as usual, and, judging from her position on her chair in front of her computer, she has not yet tried to make them shut up. Although the loud noises are a huge nuisance and provoke an urge within Albedo to turn around and walk right back out of the room, he convinces himself this is a good thing. If the teacher had noticed it, she would’ve had a reason to give him a bad mark. And she would , since she’s still bitter about that one time Albedo corrected her list of ingredients for an experiment and probably prevented several explosions. If he’d known she would respond so negatively to being critiqued, he would’ve just told someone else to inform her about her error, because now she literally hates him. But well, there’s nothing he can change about that now, so he just picks one of the seats, sits back and waits until the teacher decides to show some authority instead of staring at her laptop screen and probably making her eyes sting.
When they’re finally assigned to do something - an experiment he wasn’t familiar with before now, but one that seems rather simple - he sighs as he realises he’s supposed to team up with someone. What is it with people forcing him to interact with others lately?
That same moment, someone clears his throat behind him. He recognises the girl instantly after turning around.
“Sorry, do you-” she interrupts herself to hastily readjust her round glasses, then glances into at least five different directions before continuing, “Do you mind teaming up with me?”
He knows Sucrose because they often team up in chemistry or biology class. And by ‘often’ he means pretty much every time. At first, they were just always the ones who ended up without a partner, and after a while, Sucrose started asking him so they could both avoid the inconvenience of having to raise their hands when the teacher asked who wasn’t part of a group yet.
She is a really nice person to work with, in Albedo’s opinion. She’s smart and she knows what they’re doing. She also seems interested in science. She’s quite nervous when talking to him, though - one time, her hands were shaking so much she spilled a vial on the floor - so he doesn’t fully understand why she keeps asking him to collaborate with her. It’s not like he minds though, and so they do what they always do; work together, laugh at that one guy named Pallad who sits in the front row and always manages to mess something up - and part ways after class.
Next up is art class. As established, Albedo loves art. It’s what he knows best, what he invests most of his free time in. The reason this class is his favourite, however, is a different one. Unlike his chemistry teacher, who just dislikes a few people (including him), his art teacher seems to hate everyone who steps into his sight. Which hardly sounds like a positive thing, but it does result in one; the art teacher doesn’t want to hear a word from his students, and so he created around a dozen rules to make them shut up. Which ultimately means it’s a full lesson Albedo can spend in absolute silence. It’s brilliant, really.
He sits down in his usual seat, pulls out his things and starts working, a small smile forming on his lips as he can hear nothing but occasional scratching on paper and someone turning pages.
He is robbed of the satisfaction only two minutes later, when someone slides into the vacant chair next to him.
“Hey,” Kaeya says, quietly, more like a whisper. Albedo blinks in confusion, then chooses to ignore him. He doesn’t normally ignore people, even if he really wants to most of the time - but this is art class. People don’t talk in art class. He won’t talk in art class if he doesn’t absolutely have to. Which would be in case of an emergency of some sort, so it’s probably not going to happen any time soon.
Besides, he doesn’t see why Kaeya wouldn’t go to his regular seat. Especially after the rather awkward exchange they had yesterday at his house - normally his bluntness drives people away from him. Which is in his favour, really. However now this doesn't seem to be the case.
“What are you working on right now? Can I have a look?”
For a moment he’s tempted to pack his things and find a different seat. He doesn’t, though, and instead moves his arm a little bit so Kaeya can take a look at his drawing, since giving him a response to his question - even if it’s a non-verbal one - seems like the quickest and most efficient method to get him to stop talking in art class.
To Albedo’s annoyance, it does not work; Kaeya misinterprets him obliging to his request as an invitation to continue to bother him.
“That looks incredible,” he says with so much awe it sounds like he’s describing a renaissance painting. Albedo rolls his eyes at the exaggeration. He hasn’t even finished the sketch yet; his words are ridiculous, so he gets a strong sense he’s being made fun of.
He scoots closer to the wall and away from Kaeya, who takes out his art supplies too - well, that’s sort of an exaggeration as well since his ‘art supplies’ appear to consist of a few pieces of paper and a single pencil.
For a few moments, it’s quiet. Until Kaeya asks him for a pencil sharpener.
Albedo nervously glances to the front where their teacher is sitting. Then he reluctantly hands Kaeya the sharpener.
After a few seconds, Kaeya asks for a rubber. And then a ruler, too. After this, Albedo just grabs his entire pencil case and sets it on the desk in between them, gesturing at it. Kaeya smiles, says ‘thanks’ in a way-too-loud noise that the teacher should’ve definitely picked up on, but somehow didn’t. Albedo hopes that this will get Kaeya to shut up. Unfortunately, it doesn’t.
“So, what classes have you had today?” Kaeya asks, and Albedo can’t believe anyone would break the perfectly good art class rules to make fucking small talk . He swallows the need to tell him so down and tries his best to focus on his drawing. Which is really hard when there’s a guy sitting next to you who’s just. You know. Breathing quite loudly.
It’s either he can’t take a hint or he just doesn’t want to, because he keeps pressing. “Did you understand the maths homework? It took me an hour to finish it and I’m still missing a few answers,” he continues. Albedo’s grip on his pencil tightens. He can’t work under these conditions.
“Why are you talking in art class,” he whispers, not averting his eyes from his sheet of paper.
There’s an undeniable hint of satisfaction in Kaeya’s voice as he answers, and Albedo curses himself for walking into his trap. “Why not?” Albedo can practically hear the grin on his face. “It gets quite boring without having anyone to exchange pleasantries with.”
Exchange pleasantries . This is preposterous . “But this is art class,” he says through gritted teeth. “We don’t talk in art class.”
“Yes,” Kaeya leans back in his chair. His elbow brushes against Albedo’s arm in the process. It almost makes him flinch. “But why don’t we talk in art class? Don’t you think this is just another way for authorities - in this case, teachers - to prevent us from standing up for ourselves and speaking our truth?”
At this point Albedo is certain Kaeya is messing with him. He really does not care about authorities and oppression right now - he just wants to draw in peace.
“Stop making fun of me,” he says, which is probably the least effective thing one could say when asking someone to stop making fun of them. He’s had to realise this many times in his life, and still he can never draw on those experiences.
“Hey,” Kaeya leans forward again, poking Albedo’s side with his elbow, “I wasn’t making fun of you.” Suddenly he’s very close, much too close for comfort, and Albedo opens his mouth to protest.
“Albedo, Kaeya, is there something you’d like to share with the class?”
Albedo freezes. This is exactly what happens when you disrespect the rules of art class.
There are a few snickers coming from different seats in the room. Kaeya leans back in his seat once again, looking back at the teacher with an expression Albedo is a little bit horrified to find out seems to be amusement. Before Kaeya can say anything stupid about authorities that would most definitely ruin the impression the teacher has of the both of them beyond repair, he clears his throat.
“No, Sir. Please excuse us.”
The teacher nods. “Having had the pleasure of participating in my class for almost two years now, I can imagine you two are familiar with my rules. If I catch you talking again, it will have consequences.”
Kaeya snorts. Albedo prays the teacher did not hear that. He gets lucky as he just sits back in his chair.
“He takes himself and his class way too seriously,” Kaeya says after a moment. Albedo rolls his eyes and keeps quiet.
“And I wasn’t making fun of you,” he continues - he really doesn't give a shit about the teacher's fury, does he? “What even gave you the impression?”
Kaeya has moved closer to him again, his raspy voice almost right against Albedo’s ear - which probably helps the loudness, but is worse because it’s weird .
Albedo blinks once again, then he says, “Stop,” not elaboration further in order to minimise the words exchanged, and thus the chances of them being caught talking once again.
He thinks he’s finally gotten what he wants, when there’s Kaeya’s voice again . “Stop with what?” This time, Albedo actually does flinch - bumping right against the pencil case, which usually he positions at an entirely different spot on his desk, but not today, so it’s shoved off the table by his sharp movement, and all of his pens spread on the floor with loud cluttering disrupting the silence.
“Fucking hell,” he can’t help but mumble to himself,
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Kaeya starts,
“That’s enough ,” the teacher says, and Albedo can only bury his face in his hands. They are so screwed.
* * *
“We have to do an extra project in only two weeks of time just because you couldn’t just shut the fuck up,” Albedo exclaims as they exit the school building.
“That might be the longest sentence you’ve ever said to me,” Kaeya remarks, sounding so completely unbothered by all of this.
“Wrong,” Albedo hisses, “And stop changing the subject.”
They walk in the same direction for a while. “Where are you even going?” Albedo asks after Kaeya continues to follow him after they pass by the bus stop.
“To your house.”
Albedo frowns. “Why?”
Kaeya chuckles. “To look after your sister.”
Albedo sighs at his own bad memory. Right. “This is so unnecessary,” he has no idea why he’s even saying all of this out loud. “I could just take care of her instead.”
“Your mum told me she wants you to go outside more, and she hired me so you wouldn’t feel obligated to stay at home.”
Albedo groans. “Great. What else did she tell you about my life?”
That makes Kaeya laugh. Albedo doesn’t feel like laughing at all. “Come on, let’s view it this way: even if you end up staying at home, we can use the time to work on the art project when I’m not fully occupied looking after Klee.”
Albedo rolls his eyes. “I guess so,” he says, just to end the conversation. He really doesn’t feel like talking anymore.
* * *