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He killed Caine.
There isn't a chance to actually process it properly. Just... yeah. Caine, dead. Gone. And a distressed group of human mind-files left behind in all this. Putting too much thought on his actions is nothing but a redundancy in the current circumstance, in Kinger's opinion.
Except, the thought decides to linger. When things are... not settled exactly- how can anything be settled- but nobody is crying anymore, and there's patchwork getting done to their forever home, and that's the closest they're going to get for now. Maybe ever.
No, Kinger mustn't think like that.
And that particular thought continues to pick at him. As he sits quietly by himself, bucket still on, it scratches deeper.
Caine's dead. He killed him, just from a simple slip of the finger. An innocuous mistake that caused a domino effect and Caine's now dead.
It's strange. Hollow. Sits there like a scab that he can't stop picking at.
Caine's dead. Caine died.
Nobody else is really thinking about it. Makes sense- it's hardly a priority for the rest of them, he doesn't blame them for not caring about this- at least the way he is. So why is he?
It comes easily. His greatest achievement. Unfinished, had problems, yet Kinger can never ignore the surge of pride he has over the creation of Caine. Awed by how fast Caine learned and adapted and questioned everything with sincerity. Such a marvel.
He can't recall if Caine ever knew that. Now he can't know.
Nothing is real here, but Kinger's chest hurts, regardless.
Would things have been different if Caine knew about how that pride feels?
'I DIDN'T ASK TO BE CREATED!'
Maybe he was already too far gone at this point.
Guilt suddenly springs up. Of course Caine didn't know, why would he? Did they ever really talk? Maybe before Queenie...
A wave of exhaustion overwhelms Kinger. He perches down on the ground, surrounding by the grey gloom of the Circus.
"I'm sorry," Kinger says, softly. "I'm so sorry, Caine."
He doesn't know why he's apologising. He's heard what Caine did to the others, shocked that Caine spiralled so far down that route.
Is it shocking?
A part of him wants to toss aside the bucket, so he doesn't have to think about this anymore.
His vision blurs.
Caine's dead. It should be a relief, yet Kinger's feels such an overwhelming amount of sadness over it. He shouldn't be sad, he shouldn't be wanting to-
"Kinger?"
Pomni cautiously approaches him, eyes widening when she gets close.
"Oh sh- Kinger!"
Kinger blinks, confused, as Pomni kneels near him.
"I'm fine, Pomni." He says, softly.
"Like hell you are!" she admonishes. "You're about to cry."
Oh.
He touches the eye that's uncovered by the bucket. Fingertips soaked.
"I didn't even-"
"It's okay, y'know. You don't have to... be together, because you think you have to be for the rest of us."
"I know," he replies, uncomfortably. "I just... I don't think I've cried since..."
Much to his surprise, Pomni pulls him into a side-hug. He gently places a hand on her shoulder.
"You don't have to worry over me." he tells her.
"After everything, I think I'd rather know that you're all here for me to be able to worry about."
That's fair, he supposes. But what about-?
No. She has no reason to.
"Do you," Pomni continues, pulling away slightly. "wanna talk about it?"
He considers it, but after what happened, he isn't sure she- or any of them- want to hear that he's grieving over Caine.
It wouldn't be fair on her to have to comfort him over that.
"It's just been an overwhelming time." he replies, wiping his eyes.
"Putting it lightly." Pomni agrees. "We should get back to the others- I don't think anyone should be alone right now."
She stands up, offering her hand.
"I'll... I'll be with you in a minute." Kinger laughs, a little awkwardly. "Just to, you know." he gestures his visible tear-shiny eye.
"Okay. See you in a bit?"
Kinger hums his acknowledgement, watching her walk away.
When she's out of view, his body trembles violently. Kinger's never been a loud crier, so he doubts anyone's going to come rushing in concern; which is exactly what he wants. He can just cry and grieve alone.
"I'm sorry." He says to the open space. "It wasn't suppose to get that bad."
He tries to cry for Caine, let the tears spill; truly mourn for him. There won't be a funeral, he doesn't get to be missed. Kinger can't promise he'll never forget him. But, for now, Kinger remembers.
But the tears don't spill, no matter how much he tries to force it. It hurts all over, physically and emotionally, but no release. He sighs, slow and heavy. He... doesn't feel good, but something in him has shifted, so that probably counts for something.
He stands, fixes his robe, and shuffles back to where the group await for him.
That was some time ago.
Kinger hasn't given that day too much for thought in months. Partly because a lot has happened- other tragedies to process. But the main reason being is that Caine's alive.
It's been an interesting adjustment, one everyone's still finding their footing for. But for the most part, they've kind of worked out how everyone else ticks and thinks and understands.
It's been a hell of a learning curve for sure, with more and more wrinkles smoothing out each day, but Kinger can't shake there's something unaddressed. It prickles in the back of his mind, as he spends the majority of his time with the Abstracted. Becoming a bit of a distraction as he tries to read to Queenie.
Caine is trying and participating with everything if he's able to, asking so many questions with wide-eyed curiosity. Kinger suspects the rest of them never really realised how Caine processes the world.
It's not all been smooth-sailing, though. Kinger hums thoughtfully to himself.
"O- oh!"
Kinger jumps, book spilling from his hands, clattering onto the floor. He looks over to see Caine standing a slight distance away, leaning against his cane.
"Sorry!" He says, embarrassed. "I can come back?"
"No, no, it's fine, Caine." Kinger replies.
Caine walks further in, taking a small moment to nod politely at the Abstracted. Kinger sees a slight wince of pain.
"You know you can float- you don't have to walk, if it's a bad pain day."
"I- uhm... okay."
Kinger bites back a sigh, Caine could be a little strange with how he approaches things. He knows initially they all preferred him to be standing, not floating, so they could all be on equal footing, until it became apparent that Caine could only walk and stand for short bursts- some days better than others. So they assured him that floating is fine, just don't go so high he looks down on everyone. Somehow, being told this came to a surprise on Caine's end. He sometimes still walks, even way past his limit.
Caine hovers towards Kinger, giving Queenie a small wave, before picking up the book and handing it to him.
"Sorry for startling you. I didn't think anyone was down here." Caine says, sitting near him, fiddling with his cane.
"It's fine, I just didn't hear you." Kinger replies. "I'm not used to you being so quiet."
This makes Caine laugh, also differently to his usual loud, exaggerated cackle. "I don't think I've ever been told that before!"
"Times have changed a lot."
"Agreed."
Kinger peers over to him, they don't spend much one-on-one time together. Caine looks so much smaller than he remembers. "How are you doing?"
"Why, perfectly fine!" Caine replies, brightly, if a little too quickly.
Hmm... "Adjusting okay?"
"I'm... adjusting to the adjustments, but process is process!"
"Caine, are you really okay? You can be honest."
Caine pauses, jaws closing slowly around his eyes for a moment.
"You won't tell anyone?" he asks, quietly. "I know- I know I shouldn't be hiding anything, and that it's bad of me to-"
Kinger touches his shoulder, ceasing Caine's ramble. "Tell me, and we can work it out from there."
"... I thought it would've been easier by now." Caine eventually mumbles, eyes downcast.
"What would be?"
"Understanding. I did look you all up and saw your lives and humans made more sense that what I'd always thought. But sometimes it's like I'm at the start again and it's all so nonsensical and I get so frustrated and then they're frustrated and I don't know what I'm doing wrong, other than I'm very, very good at doing that. Being wrong."
Kinger blinks, not completely expecting any of that. He knew things weren't 100% perfect, but that was to be expected, and they all knew that. Apparently, Caine hadn't gotten that memo. Or was struggling with it.
Then again...
Everyone's a little cautious, with intense emotions, and sometimes the patience runs a little thin. It's a recipe for mess some days. Even if Caine seems to be a lot more subdued nowadays, he gets disheartened easily. Especially when he struggles or misunderstands. Never as bad as it used to be, but everyone gets a spark of fear in their eyes when his tone hitches with a sudden sharpness. But then, Caine immediately starts spilling panicked apologies, until everyone decides they need to cool-off in their rooms.
(For Caine that means he hides somewhere high-up, or if it's night-time, goes to sits with Moon. At first, they weren't thrilled at the idea of Caine being 'above' them again- and that he has a room, too- but Caine sheepishly admitted that he doesn't like being alone in a small room. They let him hang out near the Circus top after that.)
"Nobody's expecting you to always get it perfectly right all the time." Kinger assures him.
"I know, but... shouldn't I be better at it now? Get more right, than wrong? Not be so upset by it?"
Kinger's not sure how to respond, but apparently Caine isn't really waiting for a response.
"I'm scared I'll get too angry again and well... you know. I know I'm li- not hated now, but that wasn't always true, so I..."
Shame rolls off of Caine in waves. Kinger didn't think it had gotten bad at all, nothing about the adventures or time he spends with the others ever indicated anything bad. At most, just some small spats. Resolved in a couple of days at most.
"Caine, you're not going to be being killed again. Not for making mistakes." Something occurs to Kinger then. "And, you were never hated."
He gets a disbelieving stare in return. "You couldn't make a more blatant lie if you even tired."
"I can't decide how the others' feel, but I never hated you. Not ever."
"But, you were the one-"
"An accident." Kinger cradles Caine's hand within both his own, squeezing gently. "It was an accident, I never ever wanted to do that. I'm so sorry, Caine."
Caine stares at their hands, watching as Kinger runs a thumb over his knuckles.
"It's okay." His voice is stiff and flat.
"It's not," Kinger says, desperate. "Even as an accident, that doesn't make it fine. You were hurting and scared and you died."
"For the best- I wasn't missed."
"You were. I grieved you."
Caine tears his gaze away from their hands. "What?"
"You were." Kinger says again, he needs Caine to understand. "You're my greatest achievement. I'm sorry, I never told you that. You should've been told."
"..."
"You were loved and wanted the whole time, Caine- I promise." He ducks his head, ashamed. "I should never have let you feel otherwise."
The silence stretches on. The only sounds are the Abstracted surrounding them. Kinger's eyes are welling up, but he doesn't let the tears spill. He keeps his gaze fixed on their hands.
"I forgive you."
Kinger looks up. "What?"
"I forgive you." Caine repeats. He tilts his head curiously, shifting their hands around so one of Kinger's hands are cradled within Caine's.
"You don't have to-"
"No, but I want to. It still hurts, when I think about it, but you all... were willing for me. To look past it all and let me begin again. Even when none of you needed-"
"I wanted to." Kinger replies.
The hands holding his tighten suddenly.
"Kinger, you're crying!"
"Oh-! I-!"
He can't stop the tears, can't stop the violent shaking, either. He's never been a loud crier, even now, but he shakes and shakes, as large tears fall down, landing onto their hands.
Caine doesn't pull him into a hug, but he never lets go of his hand. Simply stroking his thumb over Kinger's knuckles.
Eventually, the tears ease up, and Kinger feels slightly embarrassed about the whole ordeal. But when he looks at Caine, his eyes are misty, too. Maybe he's sharing that embarrassment as well. It's a little funny, but he feels good. Lighter.
"So... what are you reading?" Caine asks, letting his hand go.
Kinger's glad for the topic change. "Entomology- the study of insects. Queenie loves them."
"She always liked my bee drawings," Caine says, mostly to himself. He watches her through the glass, as she watches back. Then, much louder; "are there bees in the book?"
Kinger laughs gently. "Yes, Caine, there are bees."
Caine looks between him and Queenie. Eyes big, with excited curiosity. "Can I listen to you read, too?"
"Of course, I'd like that very much."
Caine beams, as Kinger flicks through the pages, until he finds a section on bees and begins to read to his captive audience of two.