Vantablack
Chapter six.
Third Person's POV
The wind swayed back and forth between noisy branches and green leaves, the orange folio remained crunching underneath their weight and the smell of cherry blossoms appeased the stinging pain that pulsed on his bleeding hand.
"Don't move." The serious command made him swallow nervously and Lars made pressure in another spot of his wounded skin, Rakuen tried retracting his hand just to be held by a tighter grip.
Earlier in the morning, some street bandits tried to attack them, only to be charred and scorched to nauseating black ashes and foul odors by Lars' inexorable fire. However in the process of being scalded alive, the three thieves managed to injure Rakuen's hand with a callous platinum shuriken star and only after witnessing them burn was that he realized what was gravely done to his hand and fingers.
The blood oozed out of the open wound until the sore ardor started manifesting in the form of a throbbing headache, Rakuen stopped and sat nearby an open lake. Lars calmly followed to sit beside him and watched him struggle to take out the bandages out of the side bag Rakuen carried across his torso since they met, after berating if it would delay their trip he noiselessly decided to take his hand in what seemed as Lars' first selfless act in what Rakuen could tell.
"Ouch."
"I said don't move."
In the month they traveled alongside the other, it was certain that it was the first time they sat calmly in the corporeal company of the other and exchanged something else than silence and disapproving glares for the other. Being always indisposed to see Lars' cold expression whenever they spoke, Rakuen was surprised by the tranquility of Lars' face and the serenity it gave him to see him so impossibly unperturbed.
But somehow beneath the flawless features and composed demeanor, Rakuen knew it was more likely an unintentional banshee of what was actually stored underneath that skin. In the calmness of their exchange Rakuen couldn't stop his gaze from protracting for too long.
It was something he wasn't sure if Lars was picking up on. His eyes, Rakuen suddenly focused on Lars' eyes and his thoughts wrapped around them in wordless sentences that could help him comprehend what he saw in them.
The more he saw, the more mesmerized he became. They could almost reflect anything without being darkened by any hue, by any form or specter, they remained effortlessly translucent, a sky-blue so unblemished and clear that they almost incarnated two gleaming mirrors that could perfectly outshine the purest waters, even in their nested foundations. His pupils looked like two darkened moons of silvers glooms and the more details his thoughts wrapped into, the more unreal Lars became. To inspect the odd but spectacular orbs, Rakuen absentmindedly leaned in closer.
Lars didn't inch away, not even after sensing him inching closer. His dour eyes just skimmed back to enthrall on Rakuen's gilded ones, coldly, almost cruelly. Lars stared long enough to stop what he was doing, his voice was unaffected "Nakura,"
Rakuen straightened his pose, snapping back almost embarrassed. "Huh?"
"Can I tell you something?" Lars muttered calmly, his face remained expressionless. His hands continued strapping yet another bandage around Rakuen's fingers. "God forbids any of your children to inherit your eyes."
"W-what?"
...
"I really hate your eyes."
…
As he emerged from the blankness that his thoughts became, Rakuen frowned lightly, "Well, sorry... but it's not like I can change them."
Lars did not say anything else and kept his attention in the duty at hand.
His hands finished wrapping Rakuen's hand and after a silent, minute, his fingers remained curiously over Rakuen's paler ones. It was a remarkably soft skin and pleasantly slender against his, but as if his thoughts scratched densely on his own head, Lars aloofly let it go.
"We have to move on."
Rakuen did not question him as the other stood up with unemotional sighs, he quietly thanked him and both went on.
.
