Chapter 9: Realization
"Ow, ow, ow, my head…"
Fayt woke up to the merry sound of birds chirping outside. Rays of sunlight cast bright speckles on his blanket, warming it to an oven's temperature, forcing Fayt to abandon the soft comfort of his bed. He threw his blanket aside and it slid slowly to the smooth, clean floor. He was about to get off the bed when he felt a sudden jolt of pain in his head, and it was his hand's quick reaction to clutch his head, as if it was capable of easing the pain. I seem to have forgotten something, he thought, and as he struggled to recall what is it that he had forgotten the door burst open with a loud wham. In rushed a lady with a hair as blue as Fayt's.
"Whoaaa! Fayt! Hallelujah, you're all right!" She sniffled, and jumped into Fayt's arms with tears in her eyes. Fayt landed back on his overheated bed with the blue-haired, bawling lady on top of him.
"Fayt, you moron, you've no idea how worried I was!" she sobbed.
Meet Maria, Fayt's overprotective twin sister.
"I-I'm sorry," was Fayt's quick reply. "H-have I done something wrong?"
"Something wrong?!" rang Maria's shrill voice. "Do you…remember what happened?"
All right, he had forgotten something after all. Let's do this slowly. He recalled being dressed up to go somewhere.
Fayt: Well, here we are. Albel, have you thought of what you wanted to watch?
Albel: Look, let's just forget about my test and return home, shall we?
Fayt: No way! Albel, you've every right in the world to be proud of that score. This trip is to award you for your efforts. Chin up—the cinema is a really fun place.
Albel: What care I of how fun it is? If you truly wish to applaud my efforts, why do you refuse to humour me with your sword?
Fayt: That's for me to know and for you to find out. C'mon, choose. Shows are starting soon, and we've yet to purchase a ticket.
Albel: But I have absolutely no interests in movies.
Fayt: Albel, do you enjoy Sesame Street?
Albel: Pardon?!
Fayt: You mean you really do?
Albel: Leingod, if you must know, I dig shows that beat the crap out of annoying little maggots like you.
Fayt: Anything else?
Albel: Perhaps shows that involve squashing your puny figure to pieces. Or those that involve butchering your nasty heart into shreds after all the stuff in it has been squeezed out.
Fayt: Gotcha. I think I know just the perfect show for you.
Albel: (groans) I want to go home.
Fayt: (drags Albel by his arm) C'mon, Wicked one, your time will be worthwhile, I assure you…
And that was how they arrived at a horror show. Fayt sweatdropped upon realising how silly the incident was.
The fog in his brain gradually began to clear, and his memory jogged up the most grotesque images of the show he watched. Now that he was in the comfort and security of his room the images did not frighten him as much, but he still had to restrain a sudden temptation to puke upon recalling Mr Maggot-face. He dismissed the vile thoughts and focused on what happened next. He had exited the dark theatre trembling like a shivering puppy. Then…uh…
"I…I was at the cinema," he mumbled, turning to his sister. "Maria, how did I get here?"
"A tall, handsome man escorted you home. You were out cold, so he had you supported on his shoulder…goodness…" Maria must have said a thousand other things about how anxious she was, or how relieved she is now, but only her former words were registered in Fayt's brain.
"Um…what was the tall, handsome man like?" Fayt asked, dreading the answer.
"Hm. Very fine features, good complexion, coal-black hair, but his most distinguishable feature is his pulverising, blood-red eyes."
Why did he even bother to ask?
If there was a hole, Fayt would have loved to jump straight into it right then and there.
A series of events played in Fayt's mind: Fayt was crying in front of Albel Nox because he had just watched a really horrifying movie. Albel Nox would doubtlessly be really shocked—he had only encountered screaming people, not sobbing people—and would proceed to give him the most incredulous expression his amazement could produce. Albel stiffened and stood perfectly still for a while, not knowing what to do. Then, Albel finally decided that the best thing to do was to send Fayt home.
Albel decided that the best thing to do was to lend Fayt his shoulder till he reached home.
Slim were the chances that Fayt had not dirtied his freshly-ironed windbreaker after slicing his blade into Albel's flesh. Picture also how difficult it should be for Albel to keep his cool while carrying the unconscious boy home with a multitude of people staring strangely at his bleeding hand. Fayt's house was on the fifth storey and the elevators were being serviced, so Albel would have to squeeze in the cramped, neglected, dusty staircase five storeys up. There would also be a host of other problems which Fayt was too terrified to think of.
The last thing that Fayt wanted to do was something that would agitate the Wicked One, and he had done it. Perhaps he should have paid heed to Albel's words and duelled him instead. Now Albel the Wicked would finally demonstrate to him the meaning behind his name. Such thoughts swirled haphazardly in Fayt's mind, sending shivers down the blue-haired boy's spine.
But fear was not the only feeling in the boy's mind. Fayt felt as if his heart had been chopped into two. Recalling how Albel would relish seeing his tutor's heart shredded into cheese, he knew that Albel would rejoice at his current torment, and he sank deeper into grief at the thought. Waves of remorse and guilt kept crashing and further burdened his already heavy heart. What did Albel think of him now? Would he hate him? How was he supposed to face the Wicked One from now on?
"…Fayt, are you okay? Your face is all red…"
Maria's concerned voice snapped Fayt out of his stupor.
"Mm-hm. I'm fine."
"Are you sure? I mean, you can take the day off if you're tired."
"I'm fine, really. Guess I'd better get going before I'm late for school. See you, sis."
"Be careful. Don't overexert yourself. The exams should be around the corner and I don't want you falling ill in the midst of your preparations."
"I'm not a child anymore. Have a good day at work, sis."
He had to meet Albel. He had to see him, and pester him for answers to his questions even if he had to put his life at risk.
The least he could do was to apologise, anyway.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"…so we'd have to increase the awareness of discipline amongst the student body…"
Yaaaawn.
"…since the teachers have been complaining about it…"
Streeetch.
"…so as to ensure that such incidents do not happen again…"
Snore…
"…MR FITTIR! Are you listening to me?!"
Cliff, a blonde Klausian with handsome features and a well-built body, awoke from his sleep with a start. "I'm sorry, Mirage," he yawned a second time, "did you say something?"
It was a usual-occurring situation. Mirage magically fished out a twenty-tonne hammer and attempted to hammer the squealing Klausian into the ground.
"Gah! Mirage, stop! You're creating more dents in my beautiful tiled floor!" squealed Cliff.
"Dents? Where? I see no dents." Mirage's voice was soft and dangerous.
It was a beautiful, sunny day, and all the animals danced energetically in the fine weather, en evident display of their ecstasy. I mean, just look at the one in front of Mirage right now.
Cliff jumped, twirled, evaded and dodged, with Mirage hot at his heels. He somersaulted to evade a blow by mere millimetres, and Mirage's hammer slammed into the ground, breaking Cliff's 'beautiful tiled floor' to bits. He screamed in agony, then climbed up a cupboard, which Mirage too smashed to bits. Cliff squealed another time, and the both of them continued racing around in the Student Committee Office.
"Mirage, please," Cliff pleaded. "The cupboard you just destroyed was an antique! How am I going to answer to the principal right now?"
"Don't you worry about that," Mirage growled, her voice terrifyingly calm. "I'll make sure you're dead before someone else gets to kill you."
She slammed the hammer down. While it missed Cliff's assets it struck his little toe, and he roared loudly like a lion.
"AAAAARRRGH!!"
Suddenly, the door slammed open and a teacher entered the room.
"What's going on here?" He demanded, horrified.
"My, my, Cliff, I really can't approve of you playing such games and roaring indecently like a beast," Mirage quickly spoke. "Pardon me, sir. I had just entered the room myself, and the first things I saw were all this debris and this man wanting to play Lion."
"No!" Cliff wanted to explain, but the pain he experienced was so excruciating his words came out as howls of anguish. The teacher looked disapprovingly at his behaviour.
"Mr Fittir, I expected better of you," said the teacher, shaking his head in disapproval.
"Padon me, sir. This is partly my fault. I should've kept a close eye on him. I shall deal with this matter personally," Mirage spoke.
"Very well, Ms Koas. I expect this mess cleared up as soon as possible," he ordered.
"Rest, assured, sir, and have a good day," Mirage replied, putting on her best, business-like smile.
She turned to her blonde pet now that the teacher had left.
"Curse you, Mirage," Cliff howled.
"Did you say something, Chairman?" Mirage asked sweetly, narrowing her eyes.
"Oh, no, nothing. You must be hearing things."
Mirage sighed and wondered how much longer she had to put up with such games.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Nothing else beats lunch, is there? It was the period which introduced Albel to Fayt, when both of them talk about things, when one gets to kick the other off a tree, and when the two of them develop some form of intimacy.
So it was then that Fayt decided he should confront his crimson-eyed student.
Calm down, he pacified his wrecked mind, calm down. It's Albel we're talking about. Albel is not one to commit unreasonable murder.
What am I saying?! It's precisely because it's Albel Nox that he would gladly feast his taste buds on your blood!
Fayt walked towards the clearing with much unease. A flaming tornado of fear surged in and took its place in the blue-haired boy's conflicting mind—for one, he was most reluctant to see the swordsman, but for another he really wanted to apologise. His brain repeatedly projected images of Albel rejecting his apology and telling him off with frozen, blood-red eyes, the threat of a menacing sword in assistance. The blood in his body had seemingly solidified; Fayt found it increasingly difficult to walk with each step, as if someone had attached weights to his limbs. With every feeling of fatigue he became breathless; everything appeared to prevent him from his attempt to reconcile with his student. He reasoned that Albel was nothing to be afraid of—after all, if he was so angry he wanted to butcher his tiny heart Fayt was sure the black-haired swordsman would have executed that long ago. The fact that his lungs were functioning normally had to mean something, and Fayt consoled himself with the thought.
As he neared the clearing where Albel usually resides during lunch, his clear, emerald eyes saw something amiss.
Instead of monkeying atop a tree, Albel was sitting on a cool stone bench, one slender leg on top of another. He leaned against the bench, his face towards the boundless, azure sky, his fiery eyes casting a faraway look. They held a firm, dreamy expression, with a calmness so reassuring Fayt's fears was allayed for brief moments. His complexion was unusually beautiful—his skin gleamed and reflected shades of sunlight, his passionate lips radiating a soft, inviting warmth. His chest heaved gently as he breathed. His bandaged hand rested coolly on his lap. Everything was coordinated with a mysterious, unexplainable serenity, as if Albel himself had been waiting for Fayt to show up.
Fayt could feel his heart pound rapidly. At the sight of such a beautiful figure his face glowed red-hot, and his breathing became less coordinated. He felt himself slowly drowning in Albel's dreamy figure, and he had to admit that he was enjoying himself until Albel's crimson eyes darted swiftly to confront Fayt's emerald ones.
Fayt was instantly reminded of his fear and jumped. He shrank as he could feel butterflies flying all over his stomach.
"Leingod," Albel, surprisingly, was first to initiate the conversation.
Fayt felt his throat twisting into a fearful knot, and it took almost everything he had to undo it. "I-I'm here to apologise," he stammered. "I…I'm sorry to have ruined your first cinema experience…"
"I mentioned before that it wasn't my first," Albel quickly spoke.
"…and I'm sorry to have cut your hand," Fayt continued. "I realise that I have behaved in a most inappropriate manner. I extend my heartfelt apologies."
Albel looked strangely at him. "Leingod, such words do not sound like you at all."
"Albel, I'm really sorry. I hope that incident would not affect our relationship in any way."
"Was that what you were worried about?" Albel said. "Rest easy, Leingod. We never had any relationship to begin with in the first place."
Fayt knew that such words were the Wicked One's norms, but after the incident they seemed to have a special effect. They pierced Fayt's heart deeply, and the pain he experienced was so intense his brain lost the ability to reason with the fact that Albel's words is to be considered on rare occasions. The blue-haired teen clenched his sweaty palms and continued awkwardly.
"I…see," he managed with difficulty. "So I assume that I'm still allowed to…have lunch with you and…"
"What are you muttering, Leingod?" Albel replied. "You said before that this is public grounds. It's not up to me if you want to stay here for ten years or something."
It was evident that Albel had lost all respect for him. Anguish flooded Fayt's little heart. He had never felt a pain so suffocating before. The truth of Albel's title was finally beginning to manifest itself in his brain.
"Leingod, you okay?" Albel asked. "Maybe you should rest a little more. I'd tell that woman Zelpher you're sick today, so you don't have to come down anymore."
Fayt's heart shrank. Albel's statement of reject was worse than what his brain had calculated the Wicked One would do. He bowed his head low towards the ground and clutched his aching chest. Cold sweat trickled down his smooth, soft skin. "Perhaps you're right," Fayt squeaked. "Thank you for your concern."
Albel merely shrugged. Fayt bowed politely before dashing out of the grounds.
The Wicked One had not yet brandished his sword, yet it was a total disaster.
He ran down corridors, stairs and more areas in the school grounds, not knowing where he was going. After a certain distance his feet eventually brought him in front of a large, sturdy door. It was one belonging to the Student Committee Office. He knocked softly before entering a room which looked like an earthquake had just occurred. Exhausted, he seated himself on a fluffy, comfortable couch and buried his face in his hands. His face was warm, but his hands were cold. Albel's words were that powerful. Fayt was undergoing an agony he had never tasted—why, Fayt's brain kept asking, when all he did was just to say a few sentences. How is it that each sentence could have such a profound impact on him? Fayt had tuned himself to Albel's negative thoughts and feelings, and he could perceive every ill thought Albel had towards himself—his disappointment, his boredom, and his lack of respect. He recalled something about 'that woman Zelpher', and the only logical reason Fayt's brain could produce for its existence would be her.
He inhaled deeply to calm his nerves and clear his blocked head. He was sighing deeply when his brain registered a funny thought in his head.
That's right, he recalled. This feeling, how it can be described…I have read this somewhere before. His brain rocketed into action, digging his immense literature database with much vigour. This suffocating feeling, this fear of rejection, this intense sorrow…it's a feeling which Fayt had read too many times in various books, and as the truth slowly began to surface Fayt was jolted out of his sinking depression by an overwhelming surprise. Fayt recounted countless romance novels his sister Maria—an devout Christian and a fan of romance novels—would share with him every now and then.
No way, he stirred, with growing shock and astonishment.
This indication…
Could it be love?
