Thirteen Matchsticks
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: He's 80% genius and 100% mad; but when Beyond Birthday looks back at A he figures none of that stuff mattered anyway.
Beyond Birthday thinks back to what made him what he is now.
When winter arrives, the harrowing cold is unforgiving. The nights are long and dark. Midnight receives an extended invitation and envelops the land in an indigo blue blanket. In the early evenings when Beyond Birthday is sifting through the trash for his next meal, the Moon is already halfway through her procession. Her ladies in waiting march alongside, holding twinkling torches that chill to the bone. Daylight is brief and even the brightest of days are tinted black along the edges.
These are the days that are that he hates the most, but then, these are the days when he first meets A. He remembers that, and the memory isn't quite so bad.
He remembers, he thinks, the day he first met A. Wide-eyed with claws at the ready, kicking and screaming as he made his tornado of an entrance into Wammy's House…
It was cold outside, and he was so cold and so hungry…Beyond Birthday forgets this part, but Act One Scene One of the play that is life is not important to him. Any scene without A is no longer important to him.
…Roger haphazardly dragging him by his shock of black hair as he scratches and hisses and throws wild kicks at a desperate last attempt to escape.
-"The lotus blossom rises from the murky waters and yet, does not stain."
Vermillion orbs looks up through a mess of raven black. The collar of his shirt perches precariously on his right shoulder as a result of Roger seizing the only opportunity of momentary stillness to pin his arms back behind his lanky frame. His mouth twists into a scowl as he coolly registers the boy squatting on the far side of the room.
He doesn't understand.
Beyond Birthday doesn't understand the words just spoken by the small, fragile ghost of a boy sitting directly in front of him. He doesn't understand uneasy wave of nausea that hits him as he watches the figure rise and stealthily pace towards him. And Beyond Birthday most definitely does not understand the fluttering in his stomach, or the way that he seems to feel alive, and alright, and home when red meets blue.
"You are the lotus."
A's eyes never leave his as A purses his lip while studying him. Beyond Birthday shudders at the feeling of such intense scrutiny. Scarlet eyes divert down when Beyond Birthday feels like the icy cold stare of ocean blue is too much for him to handle.
Beyond Birthday is not stupid.
He doesn't understand a lot of things, but he's not stupid. He's knows he's like a match stick - an overly bright spark of fiery-red self destruction that resulted in sharp, agonising pain if you got too close. He is hot-headed, on cloud nine, untouchable and unstoppable so long as his flame is lit.
Maybe that's why he is scared to the death of A, scared that A could put him out. A with all of his cool water blue; crystalline beads that could put out his fire with just one look.
"I'm A." His cool tenor voice breaks Beyond Birthday out of reverie.
"We're the same you know, you and I. We are the same and I'm so glad because now I've finally got someone to play with. It's not much fun playing alone." He states in a casual, matter of fact way. His speech is light-hearted but his eyes don't dance the way eyes should. They look, to Beyond Birthday at least, like impenetrable ice, frozen over from past nightmares. He dwells on this, but it doesn't unsettle him, A's eyes aren't scary, A's eyes aren't mad. A's eyes are a reflection of Beyond Birthday's own black-tar soul and for once, he revels in their shared fear and confusion.
Beyond Birthday looks at A, looks at all of the icy coldness and feels like things are going to be okay.
