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Soul sat cross-legged on the carpet floor of his bedroom in-front of large mirror that cascaded down on him like a waterfall, perhaps if he reached in it would pool over his fingertips. He leaned towards the mirror with his head bobbed down, and casted a glare at the two horns sat upon his head. They signified power, gained him respect, and fear. But to him they were just trophies of his inhumanity, his failure. They displayed his only use, that of which being an effigy. He represents being whole, he represents being one single person yet all he is, is the husk of one. His purpose is to be burned at the stake in front of his counterparts to push them, to steer them in the right direction while they yell profanities at his existence. He must stand utop a stone pillar and grip a noose in one hand and a trident in the other. He couldn’t stand those horns.
He shifted his head upwards so he could see the bottom of his chin instead of the top of his head in an attempt to hide them from his own sight, which only brought another cursed thing about him into view. The shadowed part of his face. He wore a half a white theater mask with bright red lips to hide it from sight but everyone could still see the blacked skin in the crevices of the eyehole. Makeup couldn’t hide this stain. Another visible marker of how different he is to his Whole, his sovereignty. He can’t stand it. He can’t stand himself. Tears welled up in his eyes, he almost would have allowed himself to cry and sob if the thunder of a grandfather-clock didn’t disturb him. It was five pm and time to make dinner for his thirds, if they even showed up that is. He picked up his red-lipped mask, his trident, and flicked his jacket hood over his head. He casted one last glance in the mirror and cringed at the two bumps underneath the fabric.
He looked around the kitchen. There were still scuffs on the counter from an earlier fight. He walked over to the stove and picked the last box of craft macaroni and cheese, he needed to go to the store soon, or at least summon more. Was there a market in the head? He recalled shopping in one with his thirds but that shouldn’t be possible. They didn’t exist outside of this space. Soul lifted up a pot and started walking towards the sink when several little spots of sharp pain dug into his feet. Soul swung himself onto the counter and pulled his leg onto his other one which was hanging off the counter. Little pools of red blood surrounded shiny particles in his foot. He forgot to check the floor for glass. He sighed and decided to pick each piece out later. It was dinnertime and he had made it in much more pain before. Soul slid off the counter and inhaled softly as more shards made their way into his feet. He picked up the box of macaroni and cheese off the counter aswell as the pot. Soul made his way to the sink.
There was a soft rumble as water hit the pot. Soul stood with his eyes closed and stood completely still as the sound cascaded over his ears. He only stopped when the water began pooling on his hands. He poured the excess water into the sink, there was a soft sizzle when the water clinging to the bottom of the pot was placed on the fire of the stove. Soul heard footsteps approaching, down the stairs and through the living room to the kitchen, as the water started to boil and he was about to pour the noodles in. He looked back at Mind, who looked back at him. They each noticed each others deep eyebags. They each noticed the scars that covered any visible skin they had. Neither noticed their own faults. Neither cared enough to notice when the looked in the mirror. They each felt a wave of worry diluted by how long they had been going like this. They each decided not to say a word, they came from the same Whole after all. Soul turned back to the pot when it made a more aggressive than normal sizzle. He gently stirred it with a wooden spoon like it was a feral animal receiving comfort.
Mind casted a glance at the thin layer of blood-red glazed over the white tile. For a second he questioned where it came from until he remembered the glass cup thrown at him by the akaryocyte that had luckily missed, and noticed the slighter darker pool of blood where Soul had been standing in front of the stove. Mind had forgot to sweep it up is his anger. He sighed and placed a hand on Soul’s forearm. Soul placed his spoon down and looked up at Mind. Soul was about to start talking when Mind crouched down and lifted Soul by his legs in one swooping motion. Soul began calling out in protest but did not try to wiggle himself free of the logic’s grip. He was sat down on a counter while Mind opened a familiar drawer in the kitchen. It was filled to the brim with medical supplies, which most were doused in a colorful mixture of dried blood. Soul propped himself up and leaned over to see him searching through the supplies better. When Mind finally turned around he was holding gauze wrapping, tweezers, and a bottle of Tylenol. Soul sighed and rolled his eyes, almost playfully.
”I need to finish making dinner, The water will boil off in the time it takes you to do this” Soul laid back on the counter, his legs dangling off the front side and his head drooping down the other.
Mind grabbed the box and poured the noodles in. He looked over to Soul who seemed to be passing out, probably from exhaustion. “Just let me do this and you can get back to the food. You’re getting the floor covered in blood anyways.” Soul looked down at the floors, he hadn’t noticed the blood puddles. At least they were red like Whole’s, purple and blue were oddities.
“Fine, if you must.” Soul winced as Mind grabbed his leg and began pulling glass shards out. The blood began to fall more freely now and there were red spots along Mind’s sleeve. Soul knew Mind hated mess, especially blood, but he seemed to be ignoring it. Mind wrapped Soul’s cuts in the gauze and taped the ends down. Soul was about to slide off the counter when Mind gently put a hand on his chest to push him back onto it.
“Give it a second, at least let them scab over before you tear them open again” Mind turned around and began stirring the pot, briefly looking back at Soul to check he was still on the counter.
Mind was thankful he was wearing thick-soled boots. He’d would sweep the glass away later. He put his full focus on the food. The noodles had fully cooked now and he flicked the stove off. Mind grabbed the pot by the handles and ignoring the searing on his metallic hands, he could just sand it off later. He poured the pot into a strainer. The water swished into the sink and gurgled as it went down the pipes. He poured the noodles back in and placed the pot back on the stove. A soft wheezing came from Soul.
Mind opened the fridge as he spoke “You alright?” He grabbed the milk and butter with a short glance at Soul, who raised a thumb in conformation.
“If you say so.” Mind scooped the measuring cups of their place hanging from a cabinet handle. He shuffled through them, his fingers making a soft metallic click, and found the table spoon. He grabbed the gallon of milk and poured it into the spoon. Holding it over the pot so any spilling would just go in. He did that twice then grabbed a butter knife from the utensils container. There was the creak of a cabinet opening behind him, where Soul was, but he opted to ignore it. Mind searched for the three table spoon line and cut four off. That’s how Soul preferred it, he had mentioned it the last time they had macaroni and cheese. Mind had berated him for not following the directions. After that Mind dumped the cheese dust in, he pulled the edges apart slowly to get any powder stuck in the corners out. There was the scraping of fingernails on porcelain from what was presumed to be Soul while Mind stirred it with the wooden spoon.
Mind was hitting the spoon on the edge of the pot to get the excess food off one moment and in the next was turned around to a shattering noise, a gasp, Soul staring at the plate on the floor with tears welling up in his eyes, and marbled red and white porcelain sliding against the floor to his feet. The next second he had Soul in his arms, awkwardly on his tip-toes to reach the man on the counter, in a hug. He was careful not to crack anymore plate with his boots.
Soul cried into Mind’s arms. His sobs got quieter when he saw a pale reflection of his face in the plate. Two horns, half white mask covering void, and bright red lipstick that was half rubbed off. Even if his physical attributes were deformed couldn’t he have at least taken care of the things around him? If he wasn’t a flawless statue of his Whole he why couldn’t at least kept the things around him perfect? He just had to touch the plates. The red, blue, and purple, plates that not even Heart would dare smash. They had the plain white ones for a reason. He broke the plate that sat untouched so long it had a thin layer of dust that came off when touched and stained your fingertips. The plates he brought out when they finally turned complete, into one, into Whole. Mind’s hand reached up into Soul’s hair and rubbed circles while he brought Soul’s head just a little closer to him.
”Hey- Hey Soul, it’s alright. We can fix it. I have ceramic glue, we can put the pieces back to together.” Mind kept restating similar statements until Soul calmed down. Mind pulled away from Soul and crouched down next to the shattered porcelain plates. He gently picked up the lager parts and placed them next to Soul. He then turned back to the food, gave it one last stir, and switched the stove off. He pulled a plastic shopping bag off the door handle to the garage. The logo on the front was just blue, white, and red stripes with no name. He crouched again and picked the smaller pieces up then the larger ones went in too. He handed the bag into Soul’s hands and scooped the distressed man up with one hand on the back of his knees and the other holding his back up.
He carried him into Mind’s bedroom. Heart peaked out from his room but Mind gave him a look with a message behind it — a ‘not right now’ look — Heart scurried back in and shut the door as gently as he could. Mind softly placed Soul onto his bed, somewhere Soul had not sat ever. Not in a single loop Soul had sat on Mind’s bed since the mechanical man had nearly killed Heart when he sat on his bed, he didn’t appreciate others in his personal spaces. The fabric was soft, and almost silky. Mind took the plastic bag from Soul’s hands and placed on his desk. It was covered, yet neatly organized, in craft supplies, robotics, and other junk. He pulled out a small white bottle with a thin blue nozzle on top. Mind organized the larger pieces and placed the smaller ones in between. He clicked his desk lamp on and pulled out his chair. Soul stared at the clock on Mind’s dresser and watched the minutes tick by. He started thinking about upcoming songs. The Maniacs Bootstrap, perhaps?
He was torn from his thoughts when Mind picked up a piece of sandpaper, it scraping against the container in a sickening noise. He felt a tremor go down his body. Mind casted a glance towards the obviously uncomfortable Soul. “You might wanna cover your ears while I do this, it’s very scratchy.” Soul quickly brought his hands over the sides of his head. There was a faint sound while Mind rubbed the sandpaper over his palms. Little bits of metallic burnt dust fell into the trash can. His hands weren’t smooth anymore but at least they weren’t charred. Mind looked over at the plate sitting neatly in the middle of his desk, the cracked were still visible. Doesn’t he have some paint around here somewhere? — that might cover it.
Mind walked over to the dresser and pulled down a green milk crate. Little bottles shifted around, clinking together like they were making music. Soul watched as mind pulled out a clear glass bottle with gold liquid inside with a baby blue cap. He also pulled a thin paintbrush from a plastic cup sitting in the corner of the basket. He returned to his desk and leaned closely into the plate, completely focused. Soul continued to watch. The wires in Mind’s arms pulsed a dark blue reflection onto the golden bottle. Another half hour passed until Mind completed painting, he ushered Soul over with his hand, not breaking eye-contact with the plate like it was a weeping angel. Soul looked into the plate and followed the thin gold lines over the cracks like a river of coins with his eyes. Maybe someday he could fill in his own cracks with gold, with riches, with life.
“It’ll dry overnight. Just leave it be for now.” Mind clicked the cap to the paint closed and balanced the paintbrush on top on it.
“Do you think the food got cold?” It had been a little more than an hour since they went upstairs- had Heart eaten yet?
“Probably, we can heat it up in the microwave.” Mind grabbed Soul by his arm, and led him downstairs.
Heart sat at the couch table quietly eating. He scurried to wrap his blindfold across his face when their footsteps approached. “Hey, Heart” Mind called from the kitchen as he grabbed two white bowls. He filled them with the pasta, placed them in the microwave with a paper towel on top, and watched them spin around for three and a half minutes. Soul had made his way to Heart and they were talking at the coffee table. There were two distinct pops of monster cans and a gentle metal sound when they clicked the two cans together. Mind walked into the living room, placed Souls bowl down, then sat down in his spot, marked by the blue pillow sitting on the floor.
Soul let himself live in the calm chatter of his thirds. There was a shuffle of fabric and a buzz when Heart turned on the TV. A television which was their window into Whole’s eyes. He was out shopping and quiet music played from the speakers. Soul laid back, closing his eyes. Heart sat down next to him and wrapped his arms around the sovereign. Mind kept his place opposite of them but moved Heart’s monster across the table so it was easily accessible to the man in his own act of kindness. Soul pulled his red-lipped mask off.
Despite Soul’s cracks there was glue in his thirds. Maybe not the most reliable but it was something, and that was enough for Soul.