Twelve left, leaving Nine alone in the arcade.
Twelve left for Lisa. Nine stayed for logical reasons.
Twelve left for a trap. Twelve was almost guaranteed to die. And Twelve was basically his brother. But logically, why should he have an emotional reaction about this? Isn't everybody going to die? Why should Twelve's death mean more than the other kids at the Settlement? Why should Twelve's death mean more than Lisa's? Than any random stranger on the street?
Nine couldn't logic his way out of this. Not out of Twelve's death. Nine dreaded the thought of his own now. Why now?
First he ran a hand through his hair. None of which he could see in the arcade darkness, which might as well have been an oxymoron. (Oxymorons would have been funny at this point if Twelve wasn't going to die.)
His motions accelerated. Nine stomped. Cursed. He threw his backpack. I don't want to put that thing on if it means Twelve's death!
And why not? Nine's energy was drained. He sank into a sitting position on the stone wall, which quickly turned into a fetal position. He cried for a small bit.
Twelve is going to die. Twelve is going to die and it's about to be all my fault.
Wait, all his fault? When did that happen? He went through the chain of memories—Twelve to Lisa to living with Lisa to Lisa running away to Twelve and Lisa dying—
No. There were some gaps in his chain. The chain was rusty, and needed some polishing. Just like his personality.
Twelve to Lisa to Nine involving Lisa as an accomplice to living with Lisa to Nine ignoring Lisa at every instance to Lisa running away to Nine doesn't want Twelve to go Nine doesn't want Twelve to die either.
Nine was a bass. His yells always started low, but it had been a long time since he'd done that.
First time for everything. Well, first time in a while. Nine positively roared. Sphinx number one, or any Sphinx as it were, had the vocal cords of a lion. But as the roar drew itself out, it heightened and turned into a shriek.
He didn't want Twelve to die.
Nine picked up his bag. Slung it on. Held the key to the arcade so tightly between his teeth he figured he'd accidentally crushed it by the time he got outside.
But he hadn't. Carefully, he locked the door to the arcade. Roll-top—he had to crouch, which of course did wonders for his back. After the tumblers clicked resignedly—or was he projecting?—Nine held the key in his hand ponderingly. What was that thing people said?
Nine's lips weren't sealed, but he was throwing away the key. Bad metaphor. Bad circumstances. The key was making a bad clattering noise as it fell into the grate. Everything was bad for sure.
Twelve was going out of his mind. Could he say everything he wanted to say in three minutes and fifty-seven seconds? He didn't think so. The bomb facing him didn't think so either.
Lisa had said she was sorry. That she was a burden and a bother to everyone around her. That she only got in the way. That she didn't mean to kill a boy like him.
A boy like him. What a joke.
According to the police, Twelve was a terrorist. Labels meant nothing to him. He just wished that they didn't matter so much to Lisa. Poor Lisa. He could almost guess her backstory, like something out of a badly written teen drama novel.
Or a sadistically-written reality.
Twelve, for his part, wanted Lisa to know some things herself.
First, that he was angry. Primary emotion. He was angry with Lisa for thinking she was a burden. She was anything but.
Secondary emotions. Irritation that she felt that way about herself when his efforts were to avoid that. Even if he didn't say it. Frustration at Nine for throwing her away. Rage at Five for putting them both in this situation. Disgust with himself for not being able to handle this bomb. Torment because he had three minutes and fifteen seconds with Lisa, and not Lisa and Nine.
Okay, good. Now to voice it.
And Twelve quickly found he couldn't, because everything stopped at his tear ducts.
"Lisa?" Twelve asked shakily.
A slight whimper.
"Forget about this bomb. This bomb doesn't deserve to be thought about. But what I wanted to say was…I'm not sorry to have met you."
"You too," Lisa choked out, then burst into fully grown tears.
Twelve forgot about defusing the bomb, taking his own advice. Instead he did the same thing as Lisa, but curled up on the ground, pounding his fist on the floor of the cage.
So when Lisa said that she was ready to die, Twelve was awakened to reality.
Lisa wasn't thinking properly. He couldn't leave her here and get down from the Ferris Wheel without being hurt by the bomb? Being blown down a hundred, a thousand feet?
Couldn't he? He had a minute.
Shut up, Lisa! Because I'm not about to climb down this metal prison just so you can explode!
I almost hope Nine hates me for this. Then I can die without regrets.
Twelve wondered briefly if everyone died with regrets. Lisa probably was dying with regrets. Was Five going to?
At least if anyone asked, Nine and Twelve had zipped their lips and thrown away the key.
Until Five called. And his heart dropped, in part because he couldn't have his sweet death with Lisa.
He was being given a choice now. Which meant a way out. Which meant his human side would give in.
Twelve really hoped Five was going to die with regrets.
He wanted so badly to hug Lisa, but with so many explosive payloads littered around their prison, he couldn't do that.
So all he could do was scream silently and hope he didn't betray Nine.