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When a quiet sigh escapes Sunday's lips and his eyes close just to pay attention to the silence for a minute, Aventurine knows what's going on.
Sunday is too closed, overly ‘independent'. This is often confusing, allowing awkwardness to slip into the air between them. They are sitting together, on the same bed, looking in different directions.
Probably of all the IPCs Sunday was the closest to Aventurine. Topaz was a sweet and altruistic person, always trying to take care of a native of Penacony. After all, he became their colleague, and even turned out to be younger than Elena (by only a year), but he did not want to burden her. Well, it's better not to talk about Jade. Although there was no awkwardness between them, rather tension.
Sunday understood that this woman had taken something important from him. Unknown, but important.
“...” Sunday finally makes at least the slightest movement, only to fix the bandages on his arm that were tightened too loosely.
“...” Aventurine unsuccessfully looks back at the winged one for a second, but quickly looks away as soon as their eyes threaten to meet.
“...”
God.
“Can you stop being silent?” The blond man asks, running his fingertips over his fresh wounds on his neck. Slight redness from interaction with the elements, no more. Well, except that it tingles. It tingles very much, it already burns.
“Okay.” The other one answers briefly. “What should I say then?”
Aventurine opens his mouth to answer, but he seems to have swallowed his tongue. And really, what is he waiting for? It is usually a Sigonian who brightens up the laconism of his colleague.. Sometimes he misses the talkative Mr. Sunday that once welcomed him in the Penacony Hotel.
And now they can only remain silent, silent until Elena bursts into the infirmary with a worried expression on her face.
“Can you finally start to relax at least sometimes?” Aventurine asked.
“..Excuse me?” The winged one frowned slightly, glancing at his colleague.
"Well, I mean.."
“Sunday!” After opening the doors, the woman immediately rushed to the mens. “Are you okay?”
So caring.
“..Aventurine.” Topaz's gaze instantly becomes displeased.
Well, a least for Sunday..
“I'm fine, Topaz, thank you for your concern.” A polite smile appeared on Sunday's lips as he comforted the woman.
Aventurine sees that something is wrong with Sunday.
What the heck? Why has everything become so uncomfortable lately?
Sunday silently looks out of the office window. The meeting ended a long time ago, but for some reason they stayed. One was busy with his own thoughts, the other was busy trying to figure out what kind of thoughts they were.
The winged one sighs softly, his eyelashes flutter slightly when he closes his eyes.
That stupid habit again. Why does Sunday do this so often? Aventurine had never noticed this before, it started quite recently..
But he still does not dare to break the perfectly built silence in the conference room. It would be.. At least, probably rude. His gaze falls on his own gloved hands, he fumbles awkwardly at the hem of his coat. This damn awkwardness is terribly annoying. Why couldn't he just leave? Not right now, but in general. He should always surf somewhere near Sunday, he should always be right there if he is given an individual task.
Unprofessional.. He likes to pry into other people's business, but it seemed too intrusive.
Although he was too clingy.
With Sunday, he was.
Aventurine quietly gets up from his seat in order to approach this riddle, just to reach out his hand to touch the shoulder of another man.
With a sudden movement, the winged one turns, opening his eyes. It comes out so unexpectedly that Aventurine himself jumps slightly.
It only got worse.
The ticking of the clock gets on his nerves, and so does Sunday's surprised look. It's like he's done something terrible, what kind of feeling is that?
“..." The blond man quickly came to his senses. “I just wanted to ask, have you been in the clouds too much lately and not listening, and I didn't mean to offend, but I just don't know what's going on and...”
What is he babbling?
Calm down, Aventurine.
Take a deep breath..
“Sunday, are you okay?”
The feeling of inferiority was eating him up from the inside.
Who is he? Why does he do everything? For what? What is his purpose?
Sunday couldn't find an answer to any of these questions. He couldn't figure out what he was missing, he had good colleagues, a job, a house, shelter, food. So why is his soul so anxious?
The routine was killing him, listening to the voices of others was getting harder. It seemed like another second and his head would just explode if he kept listening.
“Penacony is a city of opportunities.”
He doesn't want to go on this assignment. He hates Penacony. His homeland, to which he should be attached, caused outbursts of anxiety inside him. It was strange for him to look at familiar streets, it was unpleasant to see the coat of arms of Penacony, it was scary when he saw people who seemed strangely familiar, although he saw them for the first time.
He was afraid to be alone on Penacony.
He was afraid to be alone.
The familiar outlines of the planet caused a headache. Why doesn't anyone know Sunday if he was born there?
Who even said he was born there?
Who is he anyway?!
The Sigonian's voice dispelled the haze of thoughts.
“Sunday, are you okay?”
“...”
No. He's not okay, damn it.
He's scared. He is afraid to stay calm and measured all the time. He's scared at the thought that he doesn't know himself. That he doesn't understand himself. He is afraid that the darkness will engulf his mind, which will leave no trace.
He's lonely.
“I'm fine, thanks.” The winged one responds dryly.
Lie. Why is he lying? What for? Because he doesn't want to be convicted? Doesn't want others to worry?
But Aventurine was not someone else.
He was always there for him. Always.
Even when Sunday didn't know about his past, forgetting everything except his name.
Even when he was bleeding on a mission, even when they were both bleeding and the chances of success of the mission were minimal.
“You're lying.”
…
Sure. Of course, Aventurine reads through him.
“No, I'm not lying.” Sunday's gaze is measured, directed at the sunset landscape.
“Sunday..” He whispered softly.
God.
Why did his name come out of Aventurine's mouth like a prayer? A prayer in which they repent of all the misfortunes and troubles that they disturb, that they devour.
It's just not fair.
“Stop it.”
Stop what? Stop being constantly harassed? Stop caring? Stop clinging?
Stop getting attached?
“You stop it!” Aventurine's voice grew louder as he removed his hand from Sunday's shoulder. It's loud, but it's broken. “Stop looking at me with that look! Stop talking like that! Stop-..”He takes a deep breath again.
When did they become so close? It's only been a year since their first assignment together.
“Stop being silent, please..”
Tick-tock, tick-tock. The hands of the clock seemed to be too loud when they moved. Sunday hesitated for a couple of seconds before turning to face the other.
What kind of look is that?..
A disgusting feeling crept up from the winged man's chest to his throat. Fault. Fear. Something else. Something strange.
“You are always silent, always hiding.. I don't want to pressure you, okay? But you're just.. You're just so detached.”
Sunday swallows his saliva.
“I'm not..” He can't find the words. “I don't know, okay? Leave me alone.”
No no no, that's not what he wanted to say.
He needs Aventurine, needs his company. Needs his cheerful voice with echoes of cunning. He needs how Aventurine can sometimes call him with the tenderness inherent only to him.
“...”
Aventurine slowly looks away. Sunday, too.
He screwed up.
He should open his fucking mouth, apologize for being rude, for hurting. But he can't. He's afraid to make a mistake, but when he makes a mistake, he's afraid to make things worse.
“..Sorry.” The blond man apologizes first.
“What?..” Sunday was taken aback. “No. No, you don't have to...”
Silence again. Aventurine slowly looks up at him. This hope bubbling in the pupils of the Sigonian's special eyes. This hope is slowly fading with every second of their prolonged silence.
Why are they just silent? Powerless, capable only of ignoring. Aventurine does not know how to help, Sunday does not know how to say.
And they just silently disperse.
Without saying a word.
Aventurine blatantly lied. He never understands what's going on with Sunday.