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It's just like last time. An empty cafeteria, empty halls, thick and heavy silence. Her footsteps sound heavy too, sluggish maybe, even though she tries to keep the usual skip in her step. They make this place feel even more isolating, their reverberating and echoing.
It's, what, 6am? Just yesterday there would have been at least someone in the kitchen by now. At the very least someone besides Eden.
There's the humming of the fridge and the ticking of a clock, that's a start. It's something to hold onto. To her it's almost comforting if it weren't for the fact that this place keeps her far away from the world. It's like the clock is laughing in its rhythmic manner, a dry ha-ha-ha.
She turns back to look into the cafeteria hall and opens her mouth, for nothing to come out.
Hello everyone! Good morning!
...
All that leaves her is a downright frog-sounding croak, one that instinctively makes her chuckle, almost. It would under normal circumstances. It devolves into a whimper halfway-through.
She tries again but gives up at the very first inhale, when the sharp pain in her chest and the stinging of her nose already almost overtake her.
For fifteen seconds, she counts, she closes her eyes, breathes in and out and in and out. Her lips curl, not quite into a smile or grin or anything, but at least pressing them together prevents anything else.
And at least prepping food and cooking prevents having to really think or reflect or anything. You could say it's mindless clockwork.
A nice fruit salad, fruits in need of cutting.
Something sweet for Le- for whoever is in the mood for something sweet!
Some hearty sandwiches, some cereal, some coffee.
Something filling and warm and comforting, something they are all in need of.
There is a smile on her lips, a light one, at the thought of everyone sitting together for breakfast. Even though there are those who are... harder to get along with, they still sit there, chatter with others, eat something and for once you would almost believe they are a group of friends.
She wants to believe that, then maybe it would be easier to just... get going. She wants everyone to filter in, one after another, still a bit groggy but happy seeing breakfast already prepared.
Like last time... though it's not like Levi will help her out this time. A weird pressure fills her throat at that.
He's fighting for his life probably. Hopefully. Maybe she could visit him? Bring him some food? Had it been just a few days before she would have already went to the infirmary with a stack of waffles drowning in caramel syrup by now. She would have that hopeful skip in her step, one that makes the waffle tower shake just a bit too much.
Right now, the very thought of Levi makes her heart and her throat clench, making her breaths leave her in constrained gasps. Her hand is pressed to her chest, pulling at the fabric of her vest, pushing against the louder sounding beat of her heart.
And at the same time, she feels that stinging in her nose, hates, actually hates herself for not having the courage... for what? Watching another person helplessly die? Finding another dead body?
Pressing her eyes shut like she is doing right now causes only two tears to slide down her cheeks, along her jaw, set in a stone-faced way that makes her look weirdly unlike herself.
She feels her eyebrows twitch, urging to twist into a mournful expression.
But it's like she can't, almost imagining the steps of someone else, someone in need of hope, finding her like this-
Her head snaps back in a way that Veronika would probably compare it to a demonic possession, and she sucks in a breath that feels cold, makes her shudder.
For a second she is stuck like that, until slowly her hand comes to her cheek. Her thumb breaks the streak of the tear just now and suddenly her hand connects with her cheek in a harsh slap.
Her other hands comes to do the same, mirroring, two harsh slaps that dissolve into smaller light taps.
Eden inhales and rolls her shoulders and there, it's back.
She imagines Levi's face, peaceful and warm and safe now. She imagines everyone else's faces, their eyes lighting up with newfound hope.
She imagines--
...
She definitely didn't imagine a sound. And she doesn't know why a simple sound has her square her shoulders in actual fear. Well, she does know... subconsciously at least.
It was a step.
It's just someone who woke up and came to get a bite to eat, just what she was waiting for actually. But there's no hello, no good morning, instead an oppressive silence, like a stand-off.
Her face is distorted by the thoughts about how fast she could reach the knife stand, how she'd be met with a murderous glare, a knife or gun or whatever, if she turned around.
Would she even be able to fight back? The person who has joined her hasn't moved, as far as she's aware, but if she were to turn around, she wouldn't be able to stop them.
She'd try to smile and maybe it would falter and then, as they close in on her, she would try to shield her body which doesn't do much against unbridled bloodlust.
... She feels disgusted with herself, entertaining these thoughts. Counting to three, she simply spins herself around. She has to, she can't give in to those thoughts.
...It’s a tall, lean figure that meets her eyes. Towering over her in a way that she remembers all too well.
Her breath catches in her throat, almost tunes out the squeak that leaves her too. On instinct she had taken a big step back, which doesn’t really feel like much considering how unfairly tall he is, and misjudging her placement in the room, her foot caught on the chair in the middle of the room, leaving her to unceremoniously fall back.
And even in that state, she shuffles back a little to create more distance between them.
Cowering on the floor with her foot hurting where she hit it definitely isn’t the best position to be in when alone in a room with the person that threatened her at knife-point just a few days ago.
"A-Arturo!"
It's supposed to come out light and cheerful, pleasantly surprised like she'd be with anyone. Anything but the stuttering, trembling sound that leaves her instead. It's just too apparent how scared she is of a classmate of hers that has always been a bit... off-putting, but right now he's a threat.
She cringes at the thought, seeing another person as a threat... but he is one.
Arturo, right now, is a threat....
Well, maybe not right now. He looks worn-down, though he did so too when she mentioned his motive secret. But it does feel different this time, with his eyes just dumbly staring into space, as if he doesn't register her there... for a second, till they sluggishly drop down to her, still on the floor, still scared to the point her legs are faintly trembling.
He looks at her with very faint frustration and she can tell his eyes are hard to even keep open, before his eyebrows, similarly sluggishly, come to furrow in a way that he looks a bit more like himself.
"Fell?"
It comes out so low and so deadpan, that she looks a bit flabberghasted at the lack of sharp vitriol, fear forgotten for a moment until his eyebrows furrow even more.
"I-- I'm sorry, I... I just- It's—! ... I'm sorry..."
She feels so much smaller, so much smaller than she already is even while sitting the floor. It gets worse the longer he just stares at her like she's some bug or whatever, makes her want to curl up into a ball and disappear.
"Are you getting up anytime soon?"
A shaky breath leaves her and she scrambles to quickly get up, holding onto the table and desperately trying to avoid him and his eyes and his wrath and anything about him really.
"What- What made you get up this early? I'm already preparing some- uhm, something for breakfast! If you want... well, only if you really want to- uh--"
"I didn't get up, I'm still up."
"Huh? Since... Since the trial?"
"Well, since I didn't sleep during the trial... I'm up since last morning."
"O-Oh!"
She probably looks a bit like a fish, gaping at that. While she has made some experiences with staying up for ungodly hours, it's not comparable in the slightest to... whatever he just went through.
The question she really wants to ask is burning her tongue but she can't get it over her lips; her mouth snaps shut audibly.
"I wouldn't be here if the situation would be that dire."
... So it was pretty obvious anyway.
"Ah- So he's--"
"I'm not going to make any promises."
He gives her the usual nasty glare before crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. The entire time he just stood there, like a statue.
"Eek!"
And he didn't even have to say it necessarily harshly or anything for her to jump back again, bumping against the kitchen counter.
At that he just raises an eyebrow.
"What's with the..."
And maybe only then it clicks for him as he trails off.
Arturo, of all the people trapped in here, actually looks... well, maybe it's difficult to tell with his face mask and how tired he is.
He doesn't speak up anymore and now just he looks downright awkward. His fingers dig harder into his arms where he has crossed them and his shoulders are tense, drawn up just a bit.
All that she can do is whince belatedly at her collision with the counter and put on a smile.
"Uhh... still a bit early, huh? I'm justa bit... scattered or-"
"What are you making? For breakfast, I mean."
This time he doesn't notice her little jump, even with him suddenly being much closer, closer as in right next to her at the counter. His eyes are fixed to the unfinished preparations, drifting over the knives and plates and produce already set on the tables by her.
When she doesn't reply for a second too long, he doesn't look up either, instead taking some apples and cutting them into quarters in silence.
With how close he is to her she has to actively look up and down to see both his face and his hands working on turning apples into little... rabbits? It only makes it harder to put together that Arturo is the one to help her prepare breakfast. Okay, maybe his precision and speed gives him away, but still, having him here just so she doesn't have to be... alone.
That word holds way too much... something. A feeling of finality, a sinking depth and weight, like the world morphs around its form, steals all the warmth from her body and hollows her out.
It's that word and the fact that some of them will never experience a nice breakfast prepared for them ever again. The fact that they will never experience anything ever again. No laughter, no fun, no grief, no pain.
Min will never learn anything new anymore.
Xander will never get out of here to rise against authorities.
Ace will never have to jockey ever again, but at the same time, he will never rise above his fear of dying.
...
It only vaguely registers that neither she is cutting anything nor is Arturo, judging by the complete and eerie silence. A silence that would unsettle her usually, no relaxed banter or conversation, just this silence that feels like it is waiting for something to happen, to snap...
Right now it does nothing to her. If anything it numbs her even more. Though usually if you were going numb, you wouldn't be tearing up, right?
Her sight gets all blurry for a moment until the tension breaks and a drop falls to the knife in her hands, completely motionless.
It's fine like this, she doesn't want to draw any more attention to herself than she would be wiping her eyes, so she is practically frozen, breathing or trying to breathe calmly and steadily.
He's probably all too aware of her current state, standing right next to her, probably staring right at her too.
But it's not like he has said anything either, so it only makes sense to pretend everything is fine. See, she just needs to peel the oranges and then everything will be just...
Yeah that's not working out, is it? Her next breath is more of a shuddering sob, and since her chest feels all tight too, making it impossible to actually get any air in, she has to inhale again. And again, she has to try, letting out those awful wheezing sounds like something dying.
And again she tries, because the panic is setting in, because her vision is completely blurry and she feels like vomiting and drowning at the same time, because it feels like she is being crushed.
Did he say something just then? It's hard to tell when it feels like there is pressure on her ears, her heartbeat pressing outwards into every part of her body, her heart hollowing out and expanding and crushing everything from the inside.
Probably something along the lines of "What the fuck" or "I'm out of here".
Over her frantic breathing or attempts at doing so, she can't really hear her own whimpering, but she can try to contain it by pressing both her hands over her mouth. Maybe there's the sound of her knife falling to the floor in that cacophony too.
Who can tell, except for Arturo who is witnessing this... shitshow. Her focus is entirely on trying to just breathe, so whatever he is up to, she doesn't know, and right now, she doesn't care.
In the back of her head she might be panicking at that thought, hell, she's definitely going to panic over this later on, if there is a later for her. Both being so vulnerable in front of a person who has threatened her, who has a knife in his hands right now, but also disappointing a person who needs her, needs her to be strong and smile and make fucking breakfast just so everything doesn't go to shit even more--?
Through her blurry vision it's hard to tell what just happened, but some part of her knows.
It's warm, all around her. There's a hand at the back of her head. An arm, wrapped around her shoulders. There's the scent of antiseptic, but also something more. It's a very human scent, she decides on.
Against her forehead she can feel the surprisingly frantic rising and falling of his chest, coming and going with a shuddering and trembling quality. The fabric of his scrubs is different than she imagined, she hasn't been to the hospital often.
Held like this, focused on the things in her immediate proximity, she can make out the warmth of his hands, the hesitancy with which he brushes over her head, and the thought of him being scared to loosen or accidentally untie her bow ponytail makes her chuckle for a second before it turns into a wet, choking sob.
He's definitely saying something, she can tell by the distant humming sound of his voice. And he can tell that she wants to say something in return, an apology or a thanks or anything, because he shushes her before she can even try to think of the words to say.
Having Arturo shush her in any other circumstance, would make her shrink back into herself immediately. Those bright white pupils right in the center of a furious expression, focused on her with a sharpness that just puts her on edge-
Maybe it's because she can't see his expression, one of frustration or annoyance probably, that she feels weaker. Weaker at pulling herself away from him, weaker at forcing just a tiny smile on her face for anyone but herself.
He staggers and makes a noise of surprise when she lets herself lean into his arms and lets her arms come up to return the hug, at which he tenses noticably.
Holding him in return, clinging to him, pressed flush against him she doesn't bother trying to hold back. Considering that he is partly, only to such a small part, miniscule really, to blame for her death, for once she doesn't care about the stains she leaves on his shirt or how he is obviously out of his element here. It's her revenge, she chuckles to herself.
He doesn't try to push her away though, he just continues to hold her, to brush her hair. There's that faint humming again, only this time it's interrupted from time to time when his chest feels like it's convulsing against her.
Those moments where his voice goes suspiciously strained until he takes a deep breath and his arms grab her just a tad tighter.
Over her muffled crying she can make out fragments of what he means to say, 'sorry's and 'my fault's and 'it's okay's that feel more directed at himself or whatever stupor he has fallen into.
She makes the mistake of lifting her head, craning her neck to make out an utterly wrecked looking Arturo.
Flushed and teary-eyed, a completely unguarded expression that will probably stay with her every time she looks at him in the future. An expression of someone much younger, of someone much more vulnerable than the Ultimate Plastic Surgeon.
An expression that shifts into one of pure panic after a small delay.
Before she can even try to comfort him or console him, she finds her face pressed back into his scrubs again.
The even rise and fall of his chest has turned into a trembling rhythm accompanied by the faint shaking of his arms. They aren't just holding her now, they are actively pushing her into him, the hand on her head making it impossible to look up at him again.
All she can do is bring her arms up to brush over his back too, not like she could actually ever hold him properly the way he is holding her now. At least it seems to have some effect on him, to the extent of having him breathe evenly again.
And until they are both breathing in the same rhythm, they are stuck in that embrace. For a moment it really feels like there's some kind of understanding there, just two people in a desperate situation helping each other.
But then maybe Arturo realizes how out of character he is acting. She can tell by those subtle shifts in his body language even before he downright pushes her away. Though 'pushing' doesn't really describe it, it's moreso like he is seperating them, the way he has grabbed her shoulders and is now holding her at an arm's length.
That expression from before is gone, replaced by a more complicated and guarded one. There's only small details that show that it wasn't a complete hallucination, like the redness of his eyes and the slight glimmer of tear streaks.
But it's like none of that matters anymore.
"Are you okay now?"
Maybe there's a hint of that vaint humming in there, a little bit of that gentleness, and maybe Eden just isn't able to hear it, however it feels like she just got doused with cold water.
"I-"
She has to cough at the soreness of her throat.
"It's... okay now, yeah. Thank you, A-"
"I'm going to check up on Levi."
Another cold shiver at the two steps he takes away from her. He is obviously avoiding eye contact and she probably imagines the small shiver that makes his hands dig further into his own arms.
"R-Right! Yeah... good luck!"
She manages a smile this time, smaller than usual, a more distraught one, surrounded by tearstreaks and snot and bitten lips.
For a second he stares at her with another empty expression. Empty as in so guarded she cannot tell what he is even trying to guard and with what.
And then Arturo leaves.