Disclaimer: Don't own Xenosaga, wish I owned Albedo but I don't, end of story, amen.

30 kisses theme #4 - our distance and that person

a/n: Okay, technically this was the first conscious attempt at Xeno fanfiction (also the first kiss theme I ever wrote), and if memory serves, I was still in the middle of the second game at the time, and just beginning the period of mass obsession over Albedo and Rubedo and their demented relationship, romantic or otherwise. So. The point is, this is all very sentimental and fangirl-driven. You've been warned.

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Caprice

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Albedo used to like touching Rubedo's dreams.

Everything about him, down to the basic dredges of his subconscious, was always alive –

– even at the very end, after he's erased and redrawn that fine line between alive and dead too many times to count, Albedo would never ever deny just how luminous his twin really was –

– leaving some to hypothesize that such intensity was merely the result of overactive variant energy. Albedo didn't like to think it was so simple as that. Nothing about his other half was as simple as that – impossible to write off with a passing explanation. Impossible.

Not even the dark thoughts that sometimes bubbled up along the link when Rubedo was particularly sombre could be anything less than sparking and roiling with energy and life. That's why Albedo went to sleep with one part of his mind brushing his twin's – it was unthinkable to be afraid of blood or U-DO or dying, not when he was connected and surrounded with such life.

That's why Albedo used to like touching Rubedo's dreams… at least, until that girl came along.

That girl, the sick one, the test subject. The one whose face ghosted across Rubedo's dreaming mind like a soft red butterfly. Sakura. Pretty petal Sakura with her deformities and her sad tears and her conniving hands determined to take Rubedo away from him.

Albedo hated that girl. He hated seeing her in Rubedo's dreams, such a private place, an intimate place – Rubedo was his twin, his heart, his his his –

The sleeping body beside him mumbled something incomprehensible and kicked out a leg. Albedo flinched back before it could touch him. If Rubedo found him in his bed again, he'd kick him out. His brother didn't like him sleeping with him anymore – we're too old for that, he'd say, or, Nigredo isn't trying to climb in here every five seconds. Why don't you go cuddle with him?

After a long moment, lying stiff and scarcely breathing, Albedo reluctantly pulled away from the link, careful to retreat without notice. Sakura's face loomed like some terrible harbinger of things better left unspoken. Albedo couldn't stand it. And he was getting tired of keeping his presence hidden so Rubedo didn't wake; his back hurt bent the way it was. Dormitory beds were too narrow for two people, especially for one who constantly flailed around in his sleep and another who didn't want his bedmate to know he was there.

On the other side of the room, Nigredo was resting peacefully in his own bunk. His other brother (not like Rubeo, though, not like Rubedo) slept like a corpse. He didn't shift around, rarely dreamed, and always seemed to sleep straight through the night without waking, at least until the artificial sunlight broke through the window into their dorm. His mind was calm and cool, a tinkling river, so unlike his fiery-haired counterpart.

Albedo suddenly wanted to cry. For some inexplicable reason he felt they were slipping away from him, slowly, slowly of course, but falling through his fingers nonetheless. Rubedo was getting farther and farther away - letting Sakura lead him away - and Albedo just didn't know how to stop it. Trembling, he slipped out of his brother's bed and crept out into the hall on silent feet. His wave form was shaking nearly as much as he was and he didn't want to wake anyone up through the link (especially those dolls, those standards) especially not his brothers. He didn't want to see the look of resignation on their face when they realized there was nothing amiss. Just Albedo. Just Albedo crying, like always.

The wall was cold against his back through the thin sleeping outfit all U.R.T.V.s wore. All the same; drab grey shirts and pants at night, official uniform of the Yuriev Institute in the day. Because in the end they were all the same, weren't they? Born with the same abilities, to achieve the same goal. To combat U-DO.

Combat U-DO and die.

Albedo bit his lip. Not him, though. His existence had been a mistake in the first place – just a tumor clinging to Rubedo's back – and not even death could rectify it. What was a mistake that couldn't be fixed? Even those disgusting standards had a purpose; a unification with each other as close as blood could ever be…

And there his twin slept, content, dreaming about that girl while he sat awake and cold and lonely – they would all die and leave him, turn to ash and blow away while he watched – and Rubedo didn't seem to care one little bit, didn't bother to take a second glance –

The raw mental link shared between all six hundred and sixty nine of them gave a slight jump in activity.

Albedo clenched his hands at his sides, scarcely breathing. Had that been Rubedo? A standard? Or had it been him? Letting his hands unfurl, he forced his mind to relax, to calm. He didn't want his emotions to breach the threshold and alert them. He didn't want to look into Rubedo's eyes while what lay behind them stayed fixed on Sakura. Rubbing a hand across his eyes, Albedo sucked in a breath… then another… and another. He should go back to his bed and rest. If he didn't sleep now, he wouldn't be ready for the dive tomorrow, and it was exhausting enough with the proper rest.

And wouldn't that be ironic - getting his brothers killed all because he'd stayed up half the night thinking about them.

Once he was certain everything was stable, Albedo padded back into the room. Besides his twin's slight shifting, everything was still dark and unmoving. He let his gaze linger just a moment longer, just in case. Nothing seemed out of place, so he climbed up into his own bed and stuffed his head under the pillow where he could see nothing but darkness even with his eyes wide open. He was a little envious of how his brothers could seemingly fall asleep with a snap of their fingers; he himself didn't share that skill, and with sedatives kept under lock and key along with every other drug, there was really no other choice to quiet his mind. With his senses muffled as they were, his thoughts would eventually slide away like errant clouds. It was the way he forced himself to sleep.

So he didn't sense the person at the foot of his bed until a touch at the small of his back nearly startled him out of his skin.

The body was already sliding into his bed before Albedo could manoeuvre around, and before he could get his bearings, there was another person curled up under the blankets behind him.

The same height, and the hand on his body felt so familiar... Albedo's heart stuttered. Rubedo?

No…

… What…

"N-nigredo?" he hissed, struggling to untangle himself and rise.

The hand on his side pushed him back down, firm but gentle. The sensation of lips brushing the nape of his neck made him shiver. "Go to sleep. Things will be better in the morning." It was no surprise his body relaxed. Even though Albedo knew of its power, had half a mind to fight it, that soft voice still had a calming effect, laced ever so slightly with Nigredo's firm will.

Albedo trembled a little. And just how could he sleep with the Executioner at his back?

Neither moved much. Nigredo's mind was so still and quiet that if not for the sensation of eyelashes tickling his neck as he blinked, Albedo could almost believe he had gone to sleep at his back. He himself didn't remember how long he laid awake under the weight of Nigredo's arms. It was too long, and yet… not quite long enough, however ironic.

"You know he's dreaming of her, Nigredo. He's dreaming of her and not us," he finally said, leaning back into the brother he liked some of the time and sincerely loved even less. He didn't expect a reply and didn't wait for one. He curled up and went to sleep soon after.

Albedo wouldn't remember hearing the soft reply until the next day when he would glance past Rubedo to catch his other brother's gaze. The placid look in those green eyes – now I see, it's not really true at all, is it? – would make him recall what had been whispered against his neck; a butterfly kiss of sad words.

"It hurts me too."