Work Text:
Pure Vanilla closed the tall iron gate, clicking a couple of locks in place. Before beginning his walk on the footpath, he spared a glance at his mailbox.
Among the overflow of unopened mail, a roll of newspaper stuck out of the stuffed flap. He took the bent roll and put it in his shoulder bag, shuffling around his belongings to make space.
The shops were near. The trip wouldn’t be long.
All he had to do was purchase his groceries and head home.
There were local markets this morning, so he was hoping he would be lucky enough to find a bookseller for which he could stave off his boredom for another few weeks. If he was fortunate, perhaps some supplies for a hobby he was not acquainted with would give him something to learn. These endeavors were the most distracting, and often kept him occupied for the longest.
His heel struck an uneven cobble, and his balance was lost momentarily.
He fell into a large man, who yelled at him some before he got brushed off. He went back to walking.
He passed by the local park. He still hadn’t visited it, all these years after moving in. He could see families and friends with picnic rugs and dogs, children throwing sticks for their pets to chase after.
He passed by a florist, and saw a young lady exit with a bouquet of roses. As he passed, he looked inside to glance at the flowers. He hadn’t really gotten many good looks at real flowers ever since he moved out, and he never found it in him to do another garden.
The markets approached quickly. He wasted no time on the outskirts, walking into the heart of the foods and produce section.
A stall full of canned goods and long-life products caught his attention. He wasted no time in approaching and scanning over the cans.
He took out a few folded-up totes and filled them with goods, compensating the seller as he tried to estimate how many days the food would last for, and how much soup he should buy to balance it with the tuna, without getting too tired of either taste.
He handed over the cash, before a large gust of wind blew his unkempt mane over his face, obscuring his view. The seller laughed as it happened, before Pure Vanilla swept it behind him without a word. The interaction was over, and the seller called him ‘ma’am’ when he left.
He continued down the street, spotting someone he vaguely recognized. It turned out they recognized him too, probably an old neighbor from his previous address. They adopted an expression of shock on the way, before flickering with disgust. He heard them mutter something to their company, and he didn’t miss the word ‘boyfriends’ showing up in their speech.
It was one of the perks, he supposed. Nobody knew he liked men anymore. It never used to bother him, even if he struggled to make friends because of it, he just found the companionship he did make more valuable. Although now, there was no reason to disclose it to make himself any more known to the local community.
His hair blew in his face again, and he swept it behind his back with mild irritancy.
He continued his walk, mentally checking off what else he needed to buy. He was nearly out of wash, he should probably buy new clothes, and he still needed to buy something to occupy himself with. More food would be nice, he wished that there were more options for long-life produce. He would do anything for a nice slice of cake.
Well, it was unfortunate that canned cake hadn’t been invented yet. Perhaps in another life he could have been a pioneer. But, he was at the markets- he could just indulge himself while he still had the opportunity.
He turned in place, trying to track where a possible baked goods stall could be. It wasn’t long before he spotted one, and quickly wove through the crowds to see what they had.
To his disappointment, cake was not among their goods. It was a pâtissier, specifically having puff-pastries and buttery desserts. Well, he wasn’t picky. Sugar just sounded nice right about now.
Although… if he was going to eat his last sweet treat for the next month, it might as well be nice.
He looked up at the seller, who was currently engaging herself with a customer, explaining the process of how they got the crisp just right on their turnovers.
He wished he could just ask for the sellers opinion on what tasted the best, but… he wasn’t sure if his voice would come out alright, and he didn’t really feel like navigating a whole interaction.
…Well, if they were talking about the turnovers, they were probably good.
Silently, he counted out the pence needed to procure his dessert before leaning forward on the counter, placing it near the resting palm of the distracted vendor, before wordlessly taking his pastry in a napkin and turning to leave.
“Hey, you! Young… Mister…? You need to pay!”
…oh, they thought he stole.
He turned around, facing the vendor, who was quite clearly frustrated, before opening his mouth to explain himself.
“Ah-“ He coughed, his throat beginning to feel clammy with its first use in a while. “uh, sorry, I left my payment there…”
His voice must have come out surprisingly deep, because the vendor took on a look of surprise before finally taking the money. He turned around, clearing his throat again, before taking a quick scope around to look for a bench.
He found none, and just chose a corner near a small cafe to seat himself on the brick tiles.
He rested his pastry on the ground, before taking out the weekly newspaper and pulling apart the twine that kept it cylindrical.
“Let’s see…” He muttered to himself, now ashamed of how his voice came out earlier and wondering if he should try talking to himself to bring it back. He turned open the newspaper, skipping to the end of all of the news and taking a look at the puzzles. The weekly crossword he couldn’t do now, he had no pen, but he could always try to remember any solutions he figured out.
The crossword was good. Whoever wrote them must’ve been a direct servant of the devil himself with how obscure the words were and how terrible the hints would be, and getting even one word wrong would send him down a path of mental pain and torment- which was exactly why it was brilliant. He’d be free of something to do as there was always the hellish puzzle that sat unfinished on the coffee table.
He reached over, taking his pastry in his hands and taking a bite, getting crumbs over the page. He blew at them, clearing the debris, before taking another bite and dirtying the page again.
Within only a half minute, he finished it already. He blinked at his open hand, wishing he maybe purchased two just to satisfy his wish for more sugar. He brought his fingers to his hands, inhaling the small flakes that clung to the tips, savoring just as much as possible before turning back to the paper in his lap. There were more crumbs over the page, yet he didn’t want to eat like a dog, so he just ignored them and flipped the page.
There, was what he subscribed to the paper for.
Once a month, the paper would include a short story from a man he was once acquainted with.
He shouldn’t be interested. He feared this man more than anything in the world. Or, well, he did- now he didn’t know what to think.
His anger had ran out long ago. No matter how much he resented him, he failed to feel resent for him.
He read the short story. It was brilliant. A tad scary, perhaps, but even he could recognize how much better his writing had improved since the first tales he had seen in the paper.
Or maybe, back then, he wanted to hate anything that came from him.
He brushed a thumb over the text, before sighing to himself. He really should stop buying the damn paper. Nowadays, he found himself keeled over his own lap for hours, as though rereading the story would give an insight about the other man. He had so many questions, none of them he could answer.
Was he searching for him? Was he angry?
…Had he changed?
It was possible for people to change. He hated it when people thought otherwise. Which is why he felt like a hypocrite for wishing it would not be the case.
If he had changed, he would have to forgive him. He didn’t know if that was possible.
Although, a part of him wished he could. If he could forgive him, maybe he could move on from it all.
And… he wanted that. Should he move on was a question he didn’t want to ask himself.
Despite his sheltered corner, another gust blew through.
Alright, that’s it. He should tie his hair up.
He took a quick look in his wallet and conceded that it would be fine. He should buy something indulgent, give himself a gift. Not that he earned it, every last dollar of his came from his inheritance, but it hardly bothered him.
He took the crossword and story out of the paper, before scrunching up the rest and throwing it in the bin alongside his napkin. The street was full, and he had to duck and weave just to get through the crowd unaffected. Some child tugged at his hair, and he just sped up to force it out of his grip. Through the current of people, he found himself swept up in front of a stall, one which looked much too expensive for something to merely hold his hair with. Although, he was treating himself, and they were selling claw clips- something he wouldn’t be opposed to wearing.
He scanned over the product, a variety of metal-forged trinkets that he once would have loved to adorn his outfits with. He skipped past them all, before spotting a clip he thought he liked. It was gold-plated and had a flowery gemstone design which looked quite pleasant. It would probably look nice alongside a fancy outfit, but that didn’t matter to him. Nobody would see him wear it, anyways.
Still, he should buy it.
He reached out his hand, trying to get around another buyer who was rather handsy with the wares. It was a bit of a reach, but he managed to grab the claw clip, only lightly brushing the other arm in his way. With a sigh of relief, he waved to the seller, trying to get his attention.
The seller slowly blinked his old eyes, before falling back to sleep.
“Ah, want me to get his attention for you? Excuse me, sir-“ The man beside him began, placing down a ware he was looking at while he spoke.
There was a pause, before the man stopped talking.
Pure Vanilla ignored it. He turned back to the seller, who was beginning to rise out of his chair with creaky legs. Still, he was interrupted by that same voice, who now had a tone of disbelief.
“…Pure Vanilla…?”
Pure Vanilla froze, dropping his claw clip on the table.
“Oh- oh my god, Pure Vanilla, is that actually you?!”
He looked up, eyes wide in shock as he stood face-to-face with Black Sapphire.
“…S-Sapphire…?”
The dark-haired mans face was both struck with both joy and surprise, before it immediately clouded over with uncertainty.
“I- uh, hello…” He muttered, taking a quick puff on the cigar in his mouth.
“…Yes, hello…”
The seller came over, smiling at the two of them before accepting the payment from Pure Vanilla. His eyes flicked over to Black Sapphire.
“Sorry, son- are you buying anything?”
Black Sapphire paused, looking back up at him.
“Oh, no, that’s quite alright…”
Pure Vanilla stood awkwardly, stuffing his wallet back into his pocket and taking the claw clip he had dropped to the table. To his disappointment, a small gemstone had dislodged itself with the impact. He sighed, before wrapping up his hair and clipping it in place.
“Your… hair has grown. Since I last saw you.”
He had not cut his hair since. The very ends of it were the same strands he had during their friendship.
“...Mm.”
There was a bit of silence, where Pure Vanilla hesitated on whether he should move on or stay, before Black Sapphire asked the question for him.
“Would you… want to catch up…?”
Pure Vanilla looked aside, taking a moment to process.
He did not want to see this man.
...He should see this man. Would that put his heart at rest?
“I… guess we could talk.”
“Mm, alright then…”
Black Sapphire forced a smile, beginning to walk when Pure Vanilla showed he was following, until he spotted a bench. There was silence as they walked, with the blond pacing a few steps behind him.
They both took a seat, and the unusual quiet remained for a good minute before Pure Vanilla broke it.
“…How… are you?”
Black Sapphire was hit with a slight pang of concern at how croaky his voice sounded, yet he still answered politely.
“I am good. Shadow Milk’s here as well.”
“Oh… he is?”
Black Sapphire swallowed, keeping his gaze forward as he watched the passerby’s.
“Ah- don’t worry. He’s a different man now.” He stopped at his own words, making a noise of uncertainty. “Well, he’s largely the same, except he’s actually learnt how to function as a normal person should.”
“He won’t… hurt me if he sees me…?”
“Oh, heavens no. He’d probably avoid you.”
Pure Vanilla blinked in surprise.
“…Really? Why?”
“He already knows you moved because of him. I don’t think he’d want to haunt your life any more than he already has.”
“…I didn’t expect that…”
Black Sapphire took another drag of his cigar, before holding it out for Pure Vanilla to accept.
“…I still don’t smoke, Black Sapphire.”
“You should try it. Don’t let yourself get addicted, though.”
Pure Vanilla sighed, before accepting the cigar for a single puff before returning it. He coughed slightly, and his throat felt worse.
Silence held for a pause of about another minute, Black Sapphire bouncing his leg on the ground.
“…So, how have you been?”
“…Me?”
“Well, if there are any other Pure Vanilla’s around here, I’d ask them.”
Pure Vanilla leaned back, staring it the clouds.
“I… fine, I guess.”
“Oh- really?”
“Ah, I don’t want to get into it…”
Black Sapphire took a puff, before letting out a quick yawn.
“Fair enough. Still got the cats?”
“Just the three of them. The mother died a month or two ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Pure Vanilla sighed, folding his legs over each other.
“And how are things for you two?”
“Oh, I’m not sure where to start.”
“The inn, then.”
There was a brief pause, before Black Sapphire answered.
“Ah, there was a lot that happened. But it isn’t an inn anymore, just a house.”
“Then- how do you sustain yourselves? Are you still… criminals?”
“God no- Shadow Milk would sooner cut his left pinky off than kidnap anyone again.”
“Goodness, he changed that much?”
Black Sapphire chuckled, yet the forced laugh turned into an exhausted sigh.
“Well, Silent Salt visited after you left. Shadow Milk cracked and told him what we did to you, and, well…” He took another deep inhale, letting the smoke trickle out of his mouth. “Milk and I both needed immediate medical attention, I’ll put it that way.”
“…Heavens.”
“Ah, that isn’t even the start of it. But answering your question, he doesn’t need to do crime, nor do I need to run the inn. He’s a full-time author.”
“He is? I thought he just got commissioned by the paper occasionally.”
“Oh, he’s much larger now. The paper led a lot of fans to buy his book series, which managed to establish his name in the industry. He even does script-writing for stage plays, occasionally.”
Pure Vanilla hummed, fidgeting in his messenger bag to bring out the story.
“I… actually read his works. Just the ones in the paper, though.”
Black Sapphire widened his eyes, staring down in pleasant surprise at the page in Pure Vanilla’s hands.
“I- did not expect that.”
“Mm. They usually upset me more than they interest me, though.”
“Oh.” Black Sapphire swallowed, lightly chewing on his lip in distraction. “…I hope you don’t mind me asking, but is that because they are not to your taste, or is it because he wrote them?”
“Both. But I read them anyways, because I guess I have this… gross sort of curiosity to know what he’s been doing?”
“I don’t think that that’s ‘gross’. We, uh, haven’t fully gotten you out of our minds, either.” There was a quick pause, Black Sapphire opting to bend down and snuff his cigar in a small puddle before pocketing it. “I’m… glad I get to see you even once more after last time.”
A crispy brown leaf rolled on the pavers, knocking into Pure Vanilla's boot. Taking a moment to answer Black Sapphire, he let his sole crunch down on the leaf, smearing its fragments to and fro.
“...Oddly enough, I think I feel the same way? I don’t exactly harbor good feelings towards you two, but I think I needed a resolution.”
“...And seeing me is that resolution…?”
“Perhaps… I don’t really know, I guess I just had this constant fear of what you guys would do to me if you saw me again. I think I needed to know what would happen if we encountered each other.”
Black Sapphire felt his heart ache slightly at the wording, opting not to say anything more.
He was aware that what they had done had hurt Pure Vanilla, but hearing it said so openly…
“You know, I’d like to see Shadow Milk.”
“…What?”
“Could you please bring me to him?”
“Are- are you sure? I mean, he isn’t going to do anything- trust me- but I’m just surprised that you actually want to see him.”
“I… don’t really know what I want. But if he’s here, I probably should. I don’t think I’ll see him again otherwise.”
“…Well, if you’re sure, we can go now.”
“Now?”
“If you want to. The timing is probably better for him, anyways.”
“I- sure.”
Black Sapphire stood, extending a hand to help take a few of Pure Vanilla’s bags. With hesitance, the bags got handed to him, leaving only the messenger bag on the blonds’ person.
They began to walk with Black Sapphire leading the way, the crowd threatening to separate them as they walked. Pure Vanilla forced himself to make haste, barely staying in each other’s proximity.
“So- where is he? To be honest, if it’s somewhere too private, I’d rather not…”
“Oh, you’re fine. He’s doing a signing event right now- it’s the reason we came all the way here in the first place.”
Pure Vanilla processed the words, hardly recognizing the meaning for a few moments.
“He’s… autographing? Just how famous is he?”
Despite being slightly ahead, Black Sapphire slowed down in order to make eye-contact with him.
“Pure Vanilla… have you really not heard of him outside of the paper?”
“Should I?”
“He’s… regarded, you could describe him that way.”
They walked a little further, before a too-densely packed crowd filled a section of the intended walkway. Pure Vanilla tried to go around, but Black Sapphire just instinctively grabbed his arm to keep him from going the wrong direction.
Pure Vanilla flinched violently, before he was immediately released without a second thought.
“Oh, goodness, I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to-“ Black Sapphire watched as the other returned to a relaxed posture, before continuing. “It’s just that we actually have to go through the crowd…”
Pure Vanilla blinked confusedly, before noticing that the crowd was actually a poorly-formed line which jammed at the door to a small bookshop.
“Oh, goodness.”
“Yup.”
“He’s that famous?”
“Oh, uh- sort of? He’s not, like, pass-him-on-the-street-and-you-recognize-him famous. It’s just that he rarely does these things because we live so far out, so his signings tend to draw in decent numbers.
“I- that makes sense, I suppose.”
“…Also, why’d you go the other way? We were going to a signing, I assumed you would’ve just gone to the bookstore.”
Pure Vanilla swallowed, fidgeting with a strap of his bag and playing with the zipper.
“I… didn’t know it was here. I only really know where the grocery store is…”
“I- oh.”
Black Sapphire once again began to acknowledge the slightly rusty voice, and paired with the fact that he didn’t know his own town-
Was… was Pure Vanilla less socialized?
He looked down, peaking through the tiny opening of the (extremely heavy) tote bag, only to realize it was completely full of canned goods- did… did Pure Vanilla exclusively buy long in advance?!
...To avoid leaving the house?
But- but why?! Was he... scared of being found by them...? Or something else?
He blinked, before beginning to push his way through the crowd. It was a hasty assumption; it was probably wrong…
“Wait, Black Sapphire-“
Black Sapphire turned around, seeing Pure Vanilla hesitantly watching him from a few meters back. He was turning his head from the door of the store and back to Black Sapphire, as well as the crowd.
“…Aren’t we going to wait?” He asked confusedly, seeing the other just begin to insert himself deep in the unkempt queue.
His statement was met with confused eyes, and an amused scoff.
“Pure Vanilla.”
“…Yes?”
“I am Shadow Milk’s best friend.”
“…Go on.”
Black Sapphire rolled his eyes in humor, stepping out to meet Pure Vanilla and slowly reaching out to hold the strap of his bag, instead of actually physically taking ahold of him as he might have done in the past.
“You really are helpless- we aren’t waiting.”
“But-“
Black Sapphire began to pull, taking Pure Vanilla with him. He pushed past the crowd, which began to make a fuss at the both of them, before he put a halt to it by yelling a slew of violent profanities at those who complained. Pure Vanilla was pretty sure a little girl started crying, but before he knew it he was at the half-open door, with Black Sapphire still half-dragging him along.
He swallowed, stepping aside to take a peak through the glass window, seeing a table in the corner of the store, and seeing his face all over again.
He felt another slight tug at his bag, like a small request to keep moving, yet he remained still. There was a moment where he just stared through the glass, watching an unclear image of Shadow Milk.
“Pure Vanilla?”
Black Sapphire took a step out of the doorway, meeting back with Pure Vanilla who lingered by the window. The blond was stuck in a small daze, before blinking up at Black Sapphire.
“Sorry, I want a moment.”
“…Alright.”
Shadow Milk did not move his gaze up to look anywhere other than the books he was handed, and the fans who handed it to him.
On the back of each cover, he slung a beautiful signature that if Pure Vanilla were any closer, he would have noticed was written awfully similar to his own old handwriting, yet awfully distinct to the font he used in the personalized messages he included.
Each message could have been a short story of its own, filling up half the paper with illegible ramblings that only the author would be able to decipher, and even that relied of if he remembered what he wrote in the first place.
Each fan approached with an annoyed expression, complaining with how long he took with all the others, but by the time they had got their five minutes, they would leave holding their books close with smiles on their faces.
Yet still, looking at that man, he couldn’t.
Without a word, he snatched his bags from Black Sapphire and ran down the street.
Black Sapphire turned around, staring at him as he disappeared with an expression that any passerby would have assumed was surprise, yet there was none in him.
Pure Vanilla left.
With a sigh, Black Sapphire turned around on his heel to enter the bookstore, yet his shoes’ motion nearly caused him to slip as he felt a puddle beneath his weight. He looked down, seeing a piece of paper stuck in a small dip of water between the uneven pathing of the walkway.
He bent down, picking up the paper and turning it around in his hand. It turned out to be a sloppily ripped page of crossword, without even a single word filled in. Half of it was wet, and it grossed him out when a bit of wind blew the soggy part of the paper against his wrist. He nearly binned it then and there, but there was something so curious about a single page of a newspaper being discarded that felt like he just had to fill the rest of it out.
Curse him and his mild curiosities.
Still holding it slightly extended, he entered the bookstore and sat by Shadow Milk, who greeted him a friendly expression and an attention which ignored the rest of his patrons for another ten minutes.
Black Sapphire did not mention Pure Vanilla.
Pure Vanilla noticed at some point on the way home that his messenger bag was unzipped. He rummaged through, confirming that he had all of his usuals, before realizing that he was, in fact, missing something.
It was a mild disappointment that he would not get to do the new crossword.
He would have to entertain last week’s devil instead.
He did, unfortunately, forget all of the other things he intended to buy, condemning him to another month of boredom and rationing soap.
He passed by the overflowing letterbox, nearly ignoring it, before he looked up at the sky.
It was going to rain.
He looked down at the letters on the bricks, which would soon be soaked by rain.
He ignored it, this time with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.
The gate opened, and he walked through his overgrown ‘garden’ which hadn’t seen a second of attention since he first arrived here.
He should really…
No. Too much work. It would take weeks to so much as clear its overgrown state, and even more to simply wait for it to grow. Not only that, but he would have to spend every day watering and every week watching out for weeds.
Too much work.
He reached the front door, fishing through his messenger bag for the keys. He reached in further when he did not find them immediately, and his hands met a piece of paper.
Oh- was he blessed with the crossword after all…?
It was the short story.
He crumpled it up and tossed it out on the street, praying to the clouds above that when it rained, it would be fierce.
He still was left the curse of finding something to cure his lonesome.
He found his keys and took his time undoing each and every lock he had installed, entering inside and shutting the door behind him. With a sigh, dropped his groceries, he slung the bag off his shoulder, hung up his coat, and took out the claw clip. He would be resting, he had no need for headaches.
A few steps out of the entryway and a couple more to the right had him entering his awfully modest lounge.
Two sofas. One for him, and one for him when he got tired of the other one.
In the middle of the coffee table sat last week’s crossword, a tricky one from two months ago, and the absolute Beelzebub that was the one published last Christmas.
He flopped onto sofa number two, the one up against the window, fidgeting with the curtain. He didn’t have any plans for opening it, at least not for another week. Not until he could be sure that the others were long gone.
Still, he teased the curtain, taking a peek outside. And still, his garden remained as blasphemous as it was two minutes ago.
Bored, bored, bored…
Agh, whatever. Fine. He’ll go out and buy some seeds or something tomorrow. And… necessary equipment. Tomorrow.
Or maybe in a few weeks.
Sighing, he flopped back and lay down, shutting his eyes and welcoming the darkness.
It was pleasant.
Sleep had never felt so good to him until recently.
Nice, even…
An unexpected yet familiar weight settled down on his stomach, encouraging him to wake up.
“Oh, hello, Nilly…” He muttered to the cat, kissing its forehead as it rubbed up against him. It began kneading painful biscuits into his belly, before he sighed and set it aside, and he tried to pat it again.
It barely lasted ten seconds before it got bored and scampered off.
Aaand that was his physical affection for the week.
He wished he held still when Black Sapphire grabbed his arm earlier. Not that he wanted to be seized by the other like he used to be, but he still wished he let it happen. Let his hand stay even for a few moments longer.
Black Sapphire was… well, he didn’t know what to think.
He had… forgiven him?
Well, that couldn’t be true, otherwise he would be friends with him again in a heartbeat.
All was forgiven, yet not forgotten?
…Huh. Poetic.
He should do some poetry with his boundless free time.
He shut his eyes again, trying to coat his vision in black.
It stayed black for a while.
Until that image of Shadow Milk behind the bookstore window showed up.
He winced, turning himself over so his face squished against the pillow.
Darkness overcame him again. His breathing became ever so slightly strained with a slight pressure the cushion applied.
But it was fine. He would sleep.
Shadow Milk wasted at the saloon.
An irritated breath of air left him, as he took another pillow and stuffed it over his head.
Black Sapphire’s grass crown falling apart.
He threw the pillow onto the other sofa, sitting up abruptly. His eyes snapped open.
Shadow Milk handing him a disgusting apple.
He stood up, trying to scrub the images from his mind- why weren't they leaving-
He was lifted out of the lake in somebody’s arms.
He bolted down the hallway, reaching the bathroom.
His eyes blinked open by the fireplace, a hand running through his hair while he slept on the top of the other two.
He took a pair of scissors in his hands, staring at his reflection. He panted, forcing himself to breathe, to imagine anything else.
The pastry tasted good. The crossword was going to torment him. The cat was soft, for the three seconds it lasted.
Shadow Milk lifted him by his collar, slamming him down into the covers again, and again, and again- a gun was to his head, he was in the kitchen, they were screaming, he ran out, a repeated bashing of a skull to a hard surface was heard-
A small tear ran down his cheek as he grabbed his hair, hastily sawing away at the length with a blunt pair of scissors, until his hair sat jagged to his shoulders. He threw the strands in the tub, before leaning against the sink, crying.
Tears dribbled into the sink, he ran the tap so that his sorrow joined the flow of water.
With mist in his eyes, he looked over to the tub, seeing a scruffy length of strands which he would soon have to throw out.
He looked back at the mirror. His hair looked awful. It looked it was lined up with a staircase and someone began to chop.
And it was too short. He bought the claw clip for nothing. It would be useless now.
It was fine. Nobody was going to see him for more than a day every month. And with the haircut, they’d probably assume him a different person.
But- but Shadow Milk-
They would recognize him.
His tears began to fully take form again, staining his eyes with red webs as he gave up and shut the tap off, sinking into the floor.
His knees drew up to sit under each eye, capturing the water and dampening the fabric.
He only ever had cried to them back then.
They didn’t do anything.
One swept a poncho over his eyes and ignored him. The other told him that he shot downstairs in self-defense. The first told him that it was a good thing he killed her.
Would they have done anything?
If he stayed in the rocking chair, would they have comforted him?
The him who didn’t know them as criminals?
Were… they ever real? The ones who kissed him silly before going to sleep? Or were they always his friend’s murderer?
Could they be the same?
One day he would find him and ask. Ask everything. But today wasn’t that day. Maybe one day, but today wasn’t that day.
Nor was tomorrow, or any foreseeable date- but one day, he would.