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The train’s late (typical), and with every bite, the piece of pretzel in Ness’ mouth tastes more and more like absolutely nothing (but, well, he’s too hungry to really mind). It’d very much be an exaggeration to call this a nice day: the sky’s grey, grey, grey, and it’s really rather cold, even in his jacket; not to mention the rain prattling on the clear train station ceiling above them, in a rhythm that makes Ness’ heart beat all out of rhythm.
(Though really, in the end, what doesn’t?)
No, to call this a nice day would be very much exaggerated, but Kaiser’s here, so it can’t be all that bad. Right?
Kaiser, who, for his part, is stood a few meters away from Ness on the bench with their luggage around his feet, in front of a vending machine that he’s typing on rather impatiently; and really, Ness thinks he’s never seen anyone have this much trouble with a vending machine.
Absently, he scratches the grains of salt off his pretzel, one by one, like he’s playing some messed up version of he loves me, he loves me not. They’re almost sharp against the cold-numbed tips of his fingers, the cold rigid in his bones.
“Dude,” Kaiser hisses, making both Ness and the lady that’s sitting on the next bench over flinch. The whole vending machine rattles—at least that’s what it sounds like—when Kaiser kicks it, before dropping into a crouch to put his hand into its slot. “Fuck!”
“What’s wrong?”
“Stupid fucking Sprite doesn’t seem much inclined to come out.”
Ness hums to signal he heard, and his vision only blurs ever so slightly when he watches how Kaiser is trying his hardest to push his arm deeper into the vending machine. It does so without his input, the blurring of his eyes, and everything bleeds just a little, blooms like watercolor in the rain.
“You still got the gummy candy, though, right?”
No, I ate them all, Ness thinks with a ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth; unwilling to fully commit to it. A while ago he might have actually said it out loud—it’s not like he’s allergic to sarcasm or messing around; not like he’s all stupid when it comes to talking to people, he’s been doing it all his life, after all, even when things are so very different with Kaiser—but by now, of course, he knows exactly what Kaiser needs from him. What Kaiser allows and what he doesn’t, especially in moments like these (and Kaiser kicks the machine again, almost upright again, and obviously, it still does absolutely nothing).
Kaiser. Michael, Ness tries, rolling it around in his head, weighing it on his tongue. He still has no idea why Kaiser hates his given name so much. Thinks he likely won’t ever find out (though he’s been wrong before, of course, and Kaiser opened up just a little one time already, with Ness’ hands all blue with the dye, even through the gloves). Micha, Micha, Micha.
“Of course,” he says, rubbing his thumb along the pretzel, again and again, over and over, but all those grains are gone already. “They’re in my bag. Want me to get them for you?”
Kaiser clicks his tongue, irritated, and Ness thinks that perhaps he should just die, really. Another kick to the poor vending machine, and Ness thinks, thinks, thinks. Michael, he spins around in his head, around and around and around. Micha.
(It’s not exactly bad, the way things are. Ness’d never dare to call it bad. Kaiser is right here, and though he’s apparently more inclined to pay attention to the vending machine than to Ness, they’re still traveling together, all by themselves. It’s not bad, the way things are, but sometimes Ness wonders…
Sometimes Ness imagines being together in a small kitchen, with Kaiser—hair still deliciously messed up from sleep, the way it’s wont to get—at the table, and Ness at the stove. Sometimes, Ness imagines what it’d be like if they could sleep in the same bed, if they could just hold hands, if Kaiser could let something like that happen, if he wanted it to happen. Micha, Micha, Micha.)
“‘S fine. I want something to drink, first. You think it’ll fall out if I buy another one? Fucking hell.”
Ness shoves a huge bite of his pretzel into his mouth; there’s nothing left to count, anyway. It’s no use, doesn’t matter at all, none of it.
“Maybe,” he says, mouth full. Smiles reflexively when Kaiser wrinkles his nose in disgust; nothing new on that front, either. A second Sprite, he thinks, for some reason. “Do you need some change?”
“Shut the fuck up, Ness,” grunts Kaiser, squatting down once more, hands flat to the ground—Ness is happy he brought wet wipes—to glance into the slot. The older lady, still very much sitting there, stares at him for a moment, and though she’s not looking at Ness at all, he still burns in shame. Kaiser’s just focused and doesn’t want to be talked at right now, anyway. Ness gets that, of course he does.
Kaiser mumbles something along the lines of fucking hell, what the fuck is this thing’s fucking problem, and Ness truly doesn’t understand what the hell’s so important about that stupid Sprite, anyway. He brought water, and juice, and one of those radioactive blue sport drinks.
He doesn’t understand what the hell’s so important about that stupid Sprite and the stupid vending machine, anyway.
The lady glances at Ness, too, now, lips pursed, and Ness smiles back placidly until she looks away again. It’s not even her fault, really—Kaiser never really gave a shit about making sure to behave properly in public, but at least there’s only one other person on this stupid train station with them—but Ness is still strangely furious. How dare she judge Kaiser? And how dare that stupid vending machine—
“The fuck are you doing, idiot?” Kaiser asks, suddenly right in front of Ness, pushing wild blond hair out of his face with his definitely not-yet wiped off hands. Ness sucks in a surprised breath.
Ah. The pretzel in his hands has turned to a bunch of crumbs in the meantime, half of it still on Ness’ palms, the other half fallen to the ground as future bird food. Oops. When did that happen?
“Oh,” slips out of Ness. “Sorry.”
Kaiser rolls his eyes. “It’s your stupid pretzel, why the fuck are you apologizing to me, dude?”
Sorry, pretzel, Ness thinks, just as Kaiser holds out a prompting hand. Even then, it takes until Kaiser wags his fingers with growing impatience for Ness to understand what in the world he wants: the change. Ness offered him change earlier, for the vending machine.
When Ness turns hastily to grab his wallet from the bag, all that is left of Ness’ pretzel at this point trickles hopelessly to the ground to join the rest of it, and his face flames all over again when Kaiser laughs, laughs, laughs. He ruffles Ness’ hair with too much pressure, pressing him—unintentionally, probably—down, down, down until Ness’ nape hurts just a little, actually, but that’s fine. He still manages to grab his wallet, absentmindedly sweeps the rest of the crumbs off his pants, and it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine.
“How much?”
“Two euros, I think.”
I think. Obedient, Ness fishes around in his wallet for one, then two coins, putting them in Kaiser’s open palm. Once he’s brave enough to glance up again, looking at Kaiser from under his lashes, Kaiser’s grin is wide and a little crooked and Ness thinks Micha, Micha, Micha. Thinks I’d like to cook something for you, I think. Thinks—
“Good boy,” says Kaiser, still grinning, definitely mocking. Ness’ face burns, but his heart bounces around in his rib cage.
And that’s it, apparently, because Kaiser turns again, sauntering back over to the stupid vending machine. Because he starts typing on its keypad like a crazy person again, and from the side like this, Ness can see how Kaiser’s eyes flicker back and forth, like he’s forgetting the number for the Sprite over and over again.
“Thing’s at least twice as old as I am,” he mutters, and though he’s not looking in Ness’ direction whatsoever, Ness still smiles. “Just like that hag over there.”
Ah. Ness’ smile vanishes as fast as it came, and the lady throws another—this time quite withering—look in Kaiser’s direction, but Kaiser doesn’t react at all. Ness wrings his hands in his lap, prays to a god he’s never really believed in—no place for frivolous things like that back home, but, well, it’s not like that stopped him concerning other things—for the train to please, please, please arrive sometime soon. If not, the lady might actually try to kill Kaiser, or something. Or at least go look for a station guard to complain about them.
“Ah!” Kaiser exclaims after another kick and a lot of clattering. “There we fucking go.”
One last time, Kaiser crouches down, and this time when he’s fishing around in the slot, he actually pulls out two bottles of Sprite. Turns halfway to flash a triumphant grin in Ness’ direction, and everything else turns completely meaningless immediately. Who cares about random women or station guards or whatever with a view like this.
Just for me, Ness thinks.
Kaiser holds out one of the Sprites once he’s back at the bench, and Ness puts it on the metal next to him, moves to finally grab those wet wipes. Like this, he can even pretend that Kaiser bought it for him on purpose. In some manner of speaking, he did, after all.
Silently, Kaiser allows Ness to take his right hand and wipe it down, taking a sip of his soda with his left hand. Ness tries to bite down the impulse to stare at Kaiser askance, to stare at the way his throat bobs, instead beckoning for Kaiser’s other hand once he’s done. He gets it, too, and Kaiser’s skin is surprisingly warm given the temperatures—but, well, Kaiser never really wears jackets or anything of the sort no matter the weather, so there’s that—and just a little rough to the touch. Ness swallows, wipes it down, too, then drops it to avoid touching Kaiser for too long.
Moves to put the wet wipes away again, before getting up to get rid of the used ones. The trash cans are situated between the two benches, so he’s staring into the one for plastic—even though people apparently throw all sorts of stuff into it, because that’s definitely not all plastic—to avoid the lady’s potential gaze.
“Ness!”
Quickly, he turns, rushes back. Accidentally knocks over his sprite when he sits, but he manages to catch it before it can fall to the ground. Kaiser laughs anyway, of course, but he ruffles Ness’ hair, too, so it doesn’t really matter.
“You’re such an idiot, really,” he says, shaking his head, and Ness puts his sprite back upright. Hesitates a moment before putting it away into his bag, instead. “Gimme the gummies, yeah? How long’s this shit going to take, anyway?”
And this shit is the fact that the train is late, Ness knows that, but he still desperately tries to get the gummies out of his bag as fast as humanly possible.
“Last announcement they said half an hour,” he murmurs, and Kaiser clicks his tongue when Ness passes over the bag of gummies, “but that was already almost an hour back, too.”
“Such annoying bullshit.”
Probably, Ness thinks. It’s always like this, though, isn’t it, Ness thinks. Micha, Micha, Micha, Ness thinks. Stares and stares and stares at how Kaiser’s lips wrap around the mouth of the bottle, pink and glistening with spit or Sprite, who really knows.
It’s no use, anyway. The fingers of Ness’ left hand—the one on the side that faces Kaiser, close, close, close—twitch, but it’s no use, anyway.
“Ness,” says Kaiser, nudging at Ness’ knee with his own, lingering, and it’s really very warm, all of a sudden. All of a sudden, Ness can pretend the sky’s bright blue instead of grey. “C’mon, drink something, too.”
Perhaps this is Kaiser’s way of thanking Ness for the two euros, because he presses his Sprite in Ness’ hands, and though Ness really isn’t very thirsty—hungry would be a better way of putting it, and he glances sadly at the pretzel crumbs on the ground—and though Ness has his own bottle, too—which Kaiser knows, of course, he was the one who bought it, Ness’ money or not—Ness takes it, anyway. Takes a sip of tasteless sprite, with his lips to the plastic Kaiser had in his mouth just now, too.
Micha, he thinks. Micha, Micha, Micha.
“Thank you,” he says, passing the bottle back to Kaiser, and Kaiser grins, wide and blinding, making Ness wish they were alone, wish they had the kind of relationship where he could just lean over and kiss Kaiser—and not the one where Kaiser just always does whatever the hell he wants and Ness has to sit there and wait for every crumb—or maybe just hold his hand, at least.
“You need to gimme some of yours, too, later,” Kaiser grins; which is to say that he wants it all to himself, but that’s fine by Ness. He brought water, juice, and that stupid sport drink, after all.
And then, like Kaiser can really read minds—sometimes, Ness thinks this must be the case, but honestly, he rather hopes it’s not; there’s so much bad thoughts spinning around in his head, so many spirals he loses himself in, so much crazed, disturbed stuff that haunts him, that it’d just end up making him feel much too… naked, in a way he very much doesn’t want to be (there’s others)—he places his hand atop Ness’ on the bench, and the metal under Ness’ skin is icy, but Kaiser’s hand is warm, warm, warm.
From this angle, the lady likely can’t see it at all. Hopefully. Doesn’t matter, anyway, because for Kaiser, this is just… it doesn’t matter.
Micha, Ness thinks. Micha, Micha, Micha. Who knows, perhaps one day he’ll be brave enough to say it out loud.