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"Hey, psst. Hey, I wanna ask you something," Marcille hissed into Kabru's ear as she grabbed his arm, preventing him from leaving the kitchen. "I need..." Deep sigh. Grimace. A moment of hesitation. Avoiding eye contact as she bit the inside of her cheek. "I need your advice."
Kabru covered his mouth with his hand, hiding his smile. His face lit up as soon as the words left Marcille's mouth. Advice? There was nothing he loved more than giving advice. Sometimes unsolicited, when the situation called for it: a pearl of wisdom, delivered in a calm, patient voice along with a reassuring smile and a gentle pat on the back, was often the best medicine for the woes of whoever happened to be venting in his presence. Solicited advice, though? Being explicitly asked to offer his insight, using his vast knowledge and life experience to help find a solution? There was truly nothing better.. He obediently sank back into his seat and turned towards Marcille. "Of course, I'm all ears. What's bothering you, Miss Marcille?" He had already noticed that she seemed uneasy, distracted, anxious, and secretly he hoped that she would approach him, just like this, saving him the trouble of discreetly asking about it himself. "I will do my best to help you."
Her eyes shifted around the kitchen as her fingers curled around the edge of the table. Her internal battle would have been evident even to somebody less observant than Kabru, though they may have mistaken it for a bout of food poisoning. However much she needed his advice, she clearly resented having to ask him for help at all, presumably out of a sense of pride rather than personal animosity. Kabru folded his arms in his chest, a smile dancing on his lips, as he waited for Marcille to finally spit out whatever she wanted to say. "Okay!" Sharp inhale. "Don't ask why I want to know.! I'll explain it later!" Kabru furrowed his brow. He wasn't sure if he liked the sound of that so far. "Tell me," she demanded, having loudly cleared her throat, "about how he confessed to you!"
"That's what you want to know?" Kabru hummed, stroking his chin. He couldn't help but be disappointed. He expected something far more interesting. It seemed like Marcille still had more questions about his relationship with Laios instead. Perhaps he should have known that what he told her last time wouldn't have been enough. At the very least, it sounded like this was a leading question, meant to ease her into raising the topic she actually wanted to talk about. Hopefully his patience would pay off. "I'm afraid that I don't have much to say, though," he hummed apologetically, offering a shrug. He could fairly accurately guess how Marcille pictured a romantic confession in her head, and it had nothing to do with what actually happened between him and Laios that memorable afternoon over three weeks ago. It certainly wouldn't have included Kabru's runny nose and messy hair, his body still recovering from a cold and clad in one of Laios' oversized shirts. It may have included Laios getting down on his knees, but probably not any of the words he actually said. Kabru knew what Marcille would have liked to hear, and he could recite it without missing a beat, and make it sound like he believed it. Under any other circumstances, he would have done exactly that, without a moment of hesitation. In this case, he ran the risk of compromising the rest of the conversation – especially if Marcille somehow picked up on his dishonesty.
Marcille puffed out her cheeks and stomped her foot under the table. "Jeez! Come on, not you too!" she whined, stirring in her seat, as if her frustration was putting her through physical pain. "I knew I wouldn't get anything out of him, but I thought you'd give me a real answer! Did you two agree to keep it a secret from me, or something? Why?! I just wanna know!"
Kabru blinked slowly and knitted his eyebrows. "You asked him about it?" he asked quietly, rubbing his bottom lip. He knew that Laios wouldn't respond well to being interrogated. That was, in part, why he arranged everything so that Marcille would confront him instead while Laios was busy unpacking his presents. He gave her what he assumed to be satisfying answers (indeed, many of them were more personal than he otherwise would have felt comfortable sharing), hoping that they would have been enough, at least for a while. Evidently, though, Marcille wasn't satisfied. "Was that what you were discussing earlier?" That would explain a lot, he reckoned.
"No, no! That was something else!" Marcille insisted, putting her hands up. "Yesterday! I asked him yesterday!" So it had been on her mind since then, presumably. He couldn't help but wonder if she always planned to discuss it with Kabru as well, or if something earlier in the day prompted it. "I thought he'd wanna talk about it," Marcille said, putting her hands on her hips, "but I barely got anything out of him! The way you talked about him the other day," she said, grimacing, "almost made me forget this is what he's like. I swear! He doesn't have a romantic bone in his body, and he's so bad at talking about feelings! How do you put up with it?"
"I’m not ‘putting up’ with anything," Kabru said emphatically. "I don't mind at all. I told you," he went on, sending Marcille a sunny smile, "that I think he's very romantic. In his own, unique way. It may be hard to notice, I suppose, unless you know what to look for. It's not a problem for me, though."
"You say that, but," Marcille said, rubbing her temple tiredly, "there's got to be something you don't like about him, right? Even if that doesn't bother you, there's gotta be something, right?"
Kabru pursed his lips as he stroked his chin. There may have been a purpose to this question, aside from tricking him into saying something unflattering about Laios, but he wasn't going to entertain that possibility, not even for a moment. "Well, I wouldn't say that there is anything I dislike about him, no. He's a thoroughly charming man." Kabru put his hand up to his chest and bowed his head solemnly. "I admire his courage, his gentleness, his compassion. He's got a really big heart." He furrowed his brow. "It may not have been what you meant, but I suppose if there is something that bothers me, it's that. He may just be too considerate, too selfless. I'll admit that it is a concern."
"Huuuh..." Marcille cocked an eyebrow dubiously. "Really? Out of all the things that are wrong with him, that's what's bothering you?" She bit her tongue and sat up straight in her chair, shuddering under Kabru's gaze, cold and sharp like steel. Marcille seemed to have gotten too comfortable playfully insulting him. Kabru's patience was rapidly running out.
"When I say that it's bothering me," he said softly, closing his eyes and sending Marcille a deceptively relaxed smile, "I am not considering the effect it may have on me. What I'm concerned with is how his behaviour reflects on his mental state. You might think there is not such a thing as being too considerate," he went on, looking up at the ceiling, "but seeing him, I would disagree. He's considerate to the point of feeling guilt over taking up any space at all and apologising for talking about the things that make him happy. I wonder," he said emphatically, "why he feels the need to do that. Did he arrive at this idea himself, or did somebody put it in his head?" Kabru bit the inside of his cheek. "Sometimes, I will encourage him to do something for his own sake, and he will only do it out of consideration for me. It's a roundabout solution. Better than nothing, I suppose. But it doesn't satisfy me. I hope that one day he will recognise his own worth.
Marcille said nothing. A wise choice, all things considered. Kabru glanced at her from the corner of his eye, to find her anxiously playing with a strand of hair.
"Unfortunately for me, he's awfully stubborn. It will take a long time to convince him otherwise," Kabru went on, and laughed to himself. "Did I sound like I disliked that trait of his, after I said that there was nothing about him I disliked? I meant what I said. I can't bring myself to see his stubbornness as a flaw. It's a challenge to overcome at times," he mused, smiling softly, "but ultimately I'm grateful for it. If he wasn't as stubborn as he is, we never would have become a couple. Perhaps I wouldn't be here at all, having exiled myself out of his life. It's true," he added emphatically, turning his face towards Marcille, staring into her eyes, "though it may be hard to believe. I owe everything," he chuckled, "to his unwavering stubbornness."
"Huh?" Marcille rested her cheek in the palm of her hand. "Huh? How? What?"
In the end, Kabru thought to himself, she did get him to talk about the confession. "Well, I'm sure you know this about him," he mused, lips curling into a smile, "but, however curious he is about the feelings of others, despite his struggle to understand them, when things don't make sense to him, he ultimately rejects them. He can be reasoned with, and he's usually aware of his own limitations, but when he's convinced that he's got the right idea, there is no force on this earth that could convince him otherwise. And so," he hummed, tapping his finger on the table as he spoke, "having carefully considered his options, he came to the conclusion that this was the best one. There was nothing I could have done to convince him that, say, he should think about it even more and come to a different conclusion. My insistence that he deserved better than to be in a relationship with me did nothing to move him off the decision he already made. Mind you, I'm sure that if I rejected him, he would let me go without a fight. Indeed, it was that realisation that ultimately made me say yes."
Marcille's eyes grew wide while Kabru spoke, and she occasionally shook her head in disbelief. "He said that? Huh! I wasn't expecting that at all. I mean," she said, rubbing her temple, "I was kind of surprised that he confessed at all. I didn't think he'd have the guts to do that..." She grimaced. "I believe what you're saying, but I know that when I talk to him again, I'm gonna think you were messing with me. It's like you're talking about a different person!"
Kabru laughed. "Well, it's only natural that you wouldn't be familiar with that side of him, no? He's a rather private person," he hummed fondly, "and he usually lacks the confidence to assert himself. I appreciate that he found the matter important enough to be worth that kind of effort." His smile fell as he turned towards Marcille again. "You said that you needed advice. I assume it's related to the question at hand, though I can't imagine how. Now then, how can I help you?"
The sudden turn caught Marcille off guard. She grimaced, turning away from him immediately. Kabru waited patiently. Given enough time, she was going to crack. "Huh? No, I mean... I hoped you'd tell me more..." She covered her mouth with her hand and looked off to the side. Kabru stared at her profile, unblinking, quiet, relentless. Marcille sighed deeply. "It's just...!" She squeezed her eyes shut and scrunched up her nose. "I was thinking... that maybe... if you told me about it..." Sharp inhale. "Maybe then I could figure out how to confess to Falin!"
Kabru's eyebrows rode up his forehead. Now that was a twist he didn't see coming, mostly because he was convinced that the two of them were already dating, and have been the entire time, and simply never mentioned it to anybody. Well, at least he was close in his interpretation. "Well," he said, clearing his throat, "I would advise against taking inspiration from the way we handled things. I'm afraid it was a rather specific situation, quite different, as far as I can tell, from your own."
"O-obviously! It's not the same at all!" Marcille scoffed, and slowly slouched in her seat, looking utterly miserable. "I still can't believe that he pulled it off, just like that! Of all people! I wasn't expecting it at all! And after only knowing you for two months?! Aren't you two moving too fast?!" Deep breath. "And it's working out for you! You seem so happy! You're not sick of him at all! And he..." she murmured, furrowing her brow, "I've never seen him this happy! Never! Was it this easy all along? Really? Really? Then why did I," she sobbed, hiding her face in her hands, "why did I spend years planning the perfect confession, only for him to do it first? Huh? Huh?!"
Awkwardly patting her back, Kabru struggled to find the best thing to say. Marcille's speech was disjointed, expressing multiple things at once. He elected to ignore the parts about Laios entirely. "There, there. There's no need to get upset. For what it's worth, you and Falin seem happy to me. From the moment I saw you together, I thought you were the perfect match."
Marcille sniffled. "We are, right? Right?" She glanced at him anxiously, and Kabru immediately started nodding. Yes, yes. Of course. "We're happy together! At least I thought so, but," she went on, rubbing her eye with the back of her hand, "I don't know! Maybe I was wrong! The more I think about it, the more I..." She shook her head, leaving the sentence unfinished. "Laios told me that Falin will be as happy as long as she stays by my side."
"That's a good thing, isn't it?" Kabru said softly. "She returns your feelings, then."
"Yeah! No! Kinda! I guess! Maybe!" Marcille waved her hands around frantically. Kabru moved out of the way. "I guess that's true, but," Marcille said, slouching in her seat again, "not really, right? As long as I'm here, it doesn't matter if we're dating or not. It's all the same to her. But," she said, clutching her chest, "it's not the same to me! I don't want to be just Marcille, her friend! You said that Laios was the same, but he figured out that you weren't happy with that, so he confessed first! She noticed how he felt and pushed him to confess. She's gotta know how I feel too, right?"
Kabru pursed his lips. "I'm a good judge of character, but I don't know Falin nearly as well as you do. I've only talked to her a handful of times," he emphasised. Marcille had known Falin for years. She most definitely knew the answer herself, or at least had an idea of it. She must have. But sometimes, one needed to hear what they already knew from another person. "If I had to guess," he said cautiously, "I would say that Falin, much like her brother, puts the feelings of others before her own. Now, usually, this would lead her to making decisions that put your wants and needs first. I'd wager that what's holding her back is a conflict of interest, so to say."
Marcille cocked an eyebrow dubiously. "Conflict of interest?"
"She loves you so deeply," Kabru suggested, "that she can't bring herself to ask for anything from you. She is perfectly happy with what she has, that is, your friendship, and your presence in her life, and she can't bring herself to want anything more. She may well be aware of your feelings," he went on, "and presumably wants to help you. What's preventing her from taking action is, I assume, the fact that she would benefit from it as well. Do you understand now," he asked, turning towards Marcille with a weak smile, "what I meant earlier? This kind of thinking is so selfless that it becomes inconsiderate, though I'm sure she's not aware of it. Not all is lost, though," he added cheerfully, patting Marcille's shoulder. "Knowing she returns your feelings, you can simply confess to her yourself! She wouldn't have the heart to reject you, I'm sure."
"Mmmm..." Marcille hid her face in her hands and shook her head. "No, no, no! I can't! I can't just tell her, I can't! If I'm gonna do it, I have to do it right! I have to make sure it's perfect! I've been thinking about it for so long! I've been preparing for years! I've read so many great romances and took notes! I rewrote it so many times, and I rehearsed it, and it's still not right! And I definitely can't confess in this weather! Who confesses by the end of Autumn? The setting totally isn't right! It's cold and ugly!" Marcille paused her rant to catch a breath, coughing into her hands.
Kabru furrowed his brow. Marcille, it seemed, thought that Laios' confession may have been the missing ingredient. That was an amusing thought, at least. "For what it's worth, I don't think it would make a difference to Falin," he pointed out cautiously. "But I assume," he added, his smile dropping, "that it would make a difference to you. I see, yes, I see."
"It would! It would!" wailed Marcille, shaking her head. "In my head, it's perfect. The perfect confession, the perfect wedding! Both of us in white dresses, with flowers in our hair," she mused, momentarily distracted by her own fantasy. "Oh, it would be so beautiful! But it's not gonna happen," she added quietly, rubbing her arm. Kabru frowned. Something about that image seemed off. "It's... it's..." Marcille stammered, her lip quivering. "You remember the cake?"
"Of course. There's still some left," Kabru said, turning towards the sad remains of Falin's birthday cake. He chuckled to himself, seeing the candy bugs still sitting on top of the cake. "You made the cake, right? What a peculiar idea. Very fitting for a bug enthusiast," he mused, carefully picking a chocolate beetle off the top. "Were they store-bought or home-made? They look awfully real."
Marcille grimaced, rubbing her eyes. "I made the cake," she said weakly, "but the bugs weren't my idea. When he brought them out, I screamed at him to put them away. I couldn't let him put something like that on Falin's cake! He said that that's what she wanted. She'd love it. Ridiculous, right? He only said that because he'd like it! But then, then," Marcille sniffled, "you saw how much she liked it right? And she thanked me, even though I was against it! It's the worst! I'm the worst! I knew that she'd like it! I knew it, and that's why I didn't want to do it! Isn't that the worst?" She grabbed Kabru's arm and brought her face closer, knitting her eyebrows. "And earlier, I took her shopping, and I said I'd get her anything she wanted. I lied! I lied! When she pointed at some ugly, scary robot spider, I pretended I didn't notice! I looked the other way! I didn't want her to have it!"
Kabru looked at her sternly without saying a word, and gently removed her hand from his arm. He understood now, with perfect clarity, the meaning of her earlier questions, and he liked them even less now, having gained that insight.
"I bought everything else she wanted! All of the cute plushies and the candy, everything, everything, but not that! Why would I give her anything that ugly? I'd have to see it whenever I came over, and she'd probably want to play with it, and I can't, I can't!" Marcille yanked on her own braids as she shouted desperately. "I just can't associate her with that kind of thing at all! Why bugs? Why bugs on the cake, why, why, why? She's so cute! That kind of thing doesn't suit her at all!"
All but done with the conversation, Kabru leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed. Marcille reminded him of his own mother right now, and that wasn't a good thing at all. This was the kind of person she was, wasn't it? Always thinking that she knew people better than they knew themselves, and could therefore decide what was best for them, what suited them, what they should and should not do. How infuriating. There were few things he despised more than this. He bit his tongue to keep himself from telling her exactly what he thought of her – for Falin's sake, if nothing else. Falin really was quite fond of her, after all. And, in fairness, he sensed the will to improve, buried deep inside Marcille's words. She was practically begging to be called out. Well, then.
"I disagree," Kabru said emphatically, folding his arms over his chest. "I find her affinity for insects rather charming. It's not something I have any interest in, personally, but her enthusiasm is contagious. I feel that's something she has in common with her brother."
Marcille grimaced. "I mean, it suits him! He likes all kinds of weird, gross stuff! That's his thing! I don't wanna be reminded of him when I'm talking to her!"
"I fail to see why that's a problem."
"Obviously you'd think it's a good thing!" Marcille covered her mouth a moment too late, staring at him wide-eyed with horror. Kabru laughed heartily. He couldn't possibly be angry.
"My bias aside," he said, trying to regain composure, "it's only natural for siblings to resemble each other, no? I don't have any siblings myself, but logically speaking," he mused, "one spends a lot of time with their siblings in their formative years, especially if they're close in age. We are shaped by the people around us. I think," he said, his voice softening, "that it's only natural that his personality rubbed off on her. The same happened to me, and I've only known him for three months. That said," he added, furrowing his brow, "isn't it cruel to reject a part of her on that basis? If it didn't suit her, she would not have taken interest in it. After all, she is her own person."
Marcille was silent once again, running her fingers through her hair. That was fine, Kabru thought. She didn't need to say anything, so long as his words reached her. With a relaxed smile, now fully sincere, he stroked his chin and hummed to himself.
"I don't have siblings, but I do have a childhood friend who is like a sister to me. It's not the same, I suppose, but it taught me something that might be relevant to you." He studied Marcille's profile as she spoke. "Growing up, we were really close. Inseparable. It is the kind of friendship forged between people who only have each other. As we got older, we drifted apart, I suppose. We never quite lost touch, but we were no longer together all the time. I talked to her recently. I wanted to tell her that I finally found my soulmate. Throughout that conversation, I realised that she.didn't know me as I am right now. Her idea of me still resembled the little boy I used to be."
After a moment, Marcille sighed deeply. "I know what you're getting at," she said tiredly, "but Falin never changed. She's still the same as she was when we were little. She always liked bugs and frogs and all of that other stuff. She kept showing them to me," she went on, "until one day she stopped. I was relieved, but now I think," she sniffled, "that she probably stopped because I was too harsh. " Marcille's ears drooped. "I didn't understand why she liked them so much! I still don't!"
"Have you ever asked?"
Marcille bit her bottom lip. "No... I just change the topic whenever she tries to talk about it... or I tune it out..." Marcille hid her face in her hands. "I'm awful, awful! What was I thinking? Oh Falin, Falin, you don't deserve this! You deserve so much better! Forgive me!"
Kabru impatiently slammed his hand down on the table, startling her so deeply that she stopped crying. "Listen," he said, as patiently as possible. "I will only say this once. This is the one piece of advice I can offer. You may take it or leave it, if you wish." His expression softened. "If this is what you desire, if you truly care about her this much, become the person that you think would deserve her. If I were you, I would start," he added, taking her hand, "by talking to her when you get the chance. Without changing the topic at the first opportunity, if you can manage it."
Marcille's lip quivered, and her eyes filled with tears all over again. She wiped them away with the back of her hand, but they wouldn't stop coming. "Okay," she sobbed. "Okay! For Falin, I'll do whatever it takes!" she proclaimed as she got up from her seat, heading towards the bathroom.
Finally alone, Kabru hid his face in his hands and let out a deep sigh. This shouldn't have been nearly as exhausting as it was, he thought, grimacing. But at least it filled him with a deep sense of satisfaction.