Title: Teumessian
Character: Ruby
Universe: Manga
Theme: Letter to my younger self
Notes: Hum. Reading Kiandi got me in the mood. And then some pic. There are still some undeveloped concepts, particularly Steven's involvement, but I still need to figure that out and this piece is not mainly about that. Enjoy.
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It's when he sees his youger self that he realises it is all a dream. The little boy keeps jumping from log to log, unaware of the older boy's presence.
He has the bare hunch that's still night, so he doesn't proactively attempt to wake up, and instead focuses his attention on the child. He steps closer.
It's when he's a couple of metres from the child that they meet eyes. The intelligence reflected in the youngling's eyes stun him for a second, and he hears the child's voice. Somewhere along the way he didn't really pay attention to whether said child's lips moved or not.
"You're a trainer. Let's fight." He narrows his eyes, serious.
"I am not" He clenches his fists the barest, just a tiny ammount of force that he couldn't restrain.
"Stop lying. You are what you are, you are a trainer." And the temperature dropped several degrees.
But what did that boy know anyway? Nothing. He's a useless weakling that hasn't lived at all, he's dumb and reckless. "Shut up, stupid."
What startles him the most is when his voice answers him back. "Damn liar."
And he wakes up. He covers his face with his bloody hand after punching the nearest tree. Red with red, his eyes have never looked more beautiful.
.
He's walking down a familiar road when he meets the child again. They're face to face, the height difference overwhelming but unimportant at the moment. He would not be swayed by the child's words nor the sky's strange colour palette.
"You keep running away. What a coward. The dogs will one day catch up with you." He could hear them bark, their feet scrapping the ground in their rabid search. An eerie chill crept up his spine and the child smiled.
"You don't know a thing. You will mess all up. Do something useful for once and disappear" But his fury was stronger, such an insolent child. It wasn't lessened by the hurt in the other's eyes, he was rightfully angry. "Everything is your fault. Grow up."
And it is when the sad child's image changes into the bloody mess he was back then, that his words turn into yelling and his voice betrays every single emotion going through his heart.
"It is all your fault! You fucked it all up. And then, you know what comes next? She'll be gone. The image you know of her will be burnt to ashes and blown by the wind. It'll be torn to shreds and will stab you in the heart every single day. You'll reach and reach and keep holding on to a stranger's hand, from this moment on you're alone thanks to your big screw up."
The next second he's falling from the tree he was sleeping on. He barely has time to remember the situation he's in. With a loud thud he hits the ground and grumbles a bit, pain erupting from somewhere on his arm.
But his mind is elsewhere. He looks up to the morning sky and stays on the ground. Time goes by and at some moment he realises he's been crying all along. His tears fall in a never-ending stream, his bottom lip trembles and the sticky mess of hair, tears and skin makes him feel even worse.
Later he finds out the bloody mess his arm's become, and the strange angle it's bent into, is something worthy of worry.
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He remembers red eyes and barking. He doesn't know for how long he'd been sleeping, but the sky's colour tells him he's got a few spare hours. He slowly rises from the bed, careful not to move his injured arm, and walks into the kitchen. He takes his time observing the room, the unaware occupant's back to him. He was sure his embarrassment was enough to drown in.
"...Morning" And he's there. Reading a newspaper, steaming coffee mug in hand.
"Good morning, Ruby. Feeling better?" And he hesitates.
"Never mind. I'll get you some tea. Take a seat, please."
He complies, awkward. He doesn't have the barest idea of what to say. "Thanks, Steven."
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He's crying, his hand on his face. His quick breaths making a ragged sound, his moans nothing but sadness. At some point someone kneeled by his side and two hands tried to solve the mess his arm was.
That person tried to get him to stop crying. Curious, kind words and soft caresses on his hair. It seemed like years later when he started to answer the enquiries, little by little more words stared coming from the boy's mouth and he stopped trembling for the most part.
With his eyes closed, he allowed himself to be swept by the man's words. At some point he ended telling him most of what came into his mind and by the time the man decided to carry him away, he had found out most of what troubled the boy. The deep secrets he'd chose to forget, the deep secrets he buried in a supposedly unreachable place.
"It'll be alright" he heard him say.