A/N: WHY IS THIS SO LONG? Seriously! What the hell! WHY! How did this happen!
Oh... and um... Something relevant to this fic's plot... uh...hmm... let's see... Oh! this takes place right after Kid is taken out of the book of Eibon, since I feel like BlackStar jacked Liz and Patty's character development.
Btw, the angst. It is intense. Though I'm trying to make it not ridiculous and still within the realm of believability.
But I really need to do something this break besides playing videogames. I've been doing nothing but interchanging between playing Half Life and Skyrim for the past three days and the headcrab-zombies are haunting me. o.e
Anyway... I don't own SoulEater
Kid collapsed into the couch in the sitting room off the foyer as soon as he walked into the house. He had no other priorities. He didn't even have the energy to make it to the genuinely comfortable couch in the den. He did not slip off his shoes. He did not go upstairs to take a shower and change out of his ruined shirt. He simply collapsed.
The couch squeaked and dipped, if only as much as it could. He sank into the large number of pillows and throw blankets that buried most of the black and white stripes and blocked the hard-wood arm from coming into harsh contact with his skull. He inhaled the soft, clean scent of his home, which he had never really acknowledged before. It had never smelled so good to him. He'd never been away for so long. He'd also never been so exhausted.
His eyelids fell closed, heavily weighted by the need to sleep. His eyes felt so perfectly comfortable that way, there was no sense in ever opening them again. All his muscles, all his bones, every nerve agreed. Nothing would make him move. All his joints, though they ached like mad, were lax and abided to any position. The velvety fabric of the victorian couch felt far too perfect against his skin, as did the knitted blanket beneath his face.
He twisted his fingers through the small loops that made up the throw, clutching it in his fist and holding it there. His other hand was buried in his own hair, beneath his head, pressed into a smooth satin pillow. His head was enveloped in oncoming unconsciousness. Infinite blackness stretched out before him, welcoming him to fall in.
He unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth, passing it across his stinging, dry lips. He twisted them, trying to unstick them from his gums. His tongue felt dry as well, sticky, uncomfortable. He was quite thirsty.
There was still the blackness, staring intently at him and waiting. He thought, suddenly, maybe he shouldn't trust it. Maybe that that wasn't what he needed. The roof of his mouth was so rough, so dry. That blackness...
He flexed his fingers wrapped in the blanket, feeling the cottony texture around them as well as the fibers of the pillow beneath as his nails as they slipped over it. There was an odd feeling rolling in his stomach as he stared into the emptiness of his eyelids, the slight feeling of tipping forward swimming around his head. Perhaps he should just let himself fall in. But he didn't know what to think of it, of all this nothingness.
The dryness was in his throat as well. He swallowed, but it did nothing to help. He felt someone grip his foot, the distinct impression of fingers wrapping around his shoe. Another hand was on his ankle. He felt his shoe be slipped off and cool air rush into the fibers of his sock and around his toes. Maybe he should just open his eyes. Maybe this emptiness was not something he wanted.
He felt another hand grip his other foot, removing his remaining shoe with gentle ease. He forced his lids open a tiny fraction, trying to abandon the blackness. His eyes did not want to obey him, though, and quickly closed again without his consent. It was as though they were magnetized together.
There was a hollow feeling in his stomach, though, that was becoming more and more apparent the longer he lay there. It was becoming increasingly harder to ignore, screaming louder at him and demanding his attention.
He heard someone talking to him as well. Probably Liz, he figured. They asked him a question. The answer to this question apparently was a "yes", as that was the one he gave. What the question had been, though, he did not remember.
His mouth still felt tacky and his lips still stung. The blackness before his eyes wasn't trustworthy yet either. He thought it might feel like madness, thought he felt that sickly, dizzying wavelength, like liquid radio static. His fingers further tangled themselves in the knitted blanket uncomfortably. It was hard to tell just what he was feeling. It could most certainly be madness. Maybe he was imagining it.
He realized suddenly that his arms were somewhat cold. Then he remembered his sleeves were gone. There was a blanket right under his head, up against his face. He could use that. But then, it had already become the perfect temperature and the pillow beneath it was almost guaranteed not to be quite as soft. He twisted his fingers through it unconsciously. Moving it would require too much effort anyway.
His shirt had no sleeves, though. His shirt was ruined. And where was his jacket? And his broach? They were gone, now. It didn't matter much, but he'd had that broach for a very long time, as long as he could remember. It wasn't exactly a common thing either. It functioned like his father's mask, changing with his emotions. Of course, it was not quite as sensitive as his father's. It did not pick up on such subtlety. It would surely be missed, though.
His suspenders as well... Were they gone? No... He could feel them. They were twisted rather awkwardly around his legs, in fact. Now that he noticed, it was somewhat uncomfortable. They coiled around his thighs, and the metal clips that held them to his pants were digging into his abdomen. Sleeping with them on would not be very comfortable.
That hollowness in his stomach swelled into his chest and started to turn to nausea. The dryness in his mouth as well was becoming unbearable.
He scrunched his toes together, bringing back the thought that he was still wearing the same socks as he had been for the past three weeks. And the same shirt. And pants. And underwear.
He needed to change his clothes. He needed to take a shower, or perhaps three. He needed to eat. He needed to get something to drink.
He needed to get up.
He also needed to sleep, which he was already getting close to. Though, there was still something he didn't like about the darkness below him he'd need to fall through in order to get there. It might still feel like madness. He thought he felt static. Everything felt distorted as well. Nothing made much sense. It was so much like insanity.
His body didn't want to move and his eyes still refused to stay open. No matter how much he wanted to do other things, sleep was his body's top priority at the moment. It was not going anywhere.
He hadn't straightened any of the picture frames in three weeks, nor had any of the toilet paper been folded.
He groaned his displeasure to no one and pulled his arms up next to him, making to get up. He bent his elbows in the same position he would to push himself off his stomach, but couldn't make his muscles apply force.
The paintings were askew and he was absolutely filthy. He needed to get up. The paintings hadn't been fixed in three weeks. They were bound to be horrendously distorted by the sway of gravity. They needed to be fixed. They needed to be fixed now.
Now.
Kid forced himself upward, but did not open his eyes. He pushed himself up off the couch in a rather ungraceful manner. He held himself up with his arms, trying to balance as he placed his feet on the floor and brought himself into a standing position. He wrapped his fingers around the wooden arm of the couch and felt for the end table he knew was right next to it. When he for some frustrating reason couldn't find it, though, he forced his eyes open a crack.
His hand had been nowhere near it.
He forced his eyes open further, rubbing them with his fingertips in an attempt to keep them that way. He blinked, pulling his eyelids as far apart as they could go upon each opening. His head ached and swam momentarily, but his mind soon caught its balance again as did his knees which had briefly threatened to buckle.
"I figured you were going to sleep," he heard Liz say. He looked up to see her in the doorway.
He blinked tiredly for a second before speaking. "Mmmthe... paintings," he said, gesturing toward the hallway loosely and running his fingers through his hair. It felt so disgusting and greasy. "And my clothes... and... shit."
"You would care more about straightening paintings than your own health," Liz sighed.
"I think I'm 'unna just... go shower first," he mumbled taking a few slow steps forward.
"Well, me 'n' Patty are making dinner. I mean, it's just macaroni and cheese. It's not anything fancy, but..." she paused, looking at him a bit worriedly. "Well, it's going to be done soon if you wanna wait."
"I don't really want to eat like this," he said, itching his forehead. He felt oils come off on his nails. He really needed to wash his face.
"Alright," she said as she combed her hair with her fingers. "Whatever you want, man."
Kid nodded and moved closer to the doorway. As he moved around her and made his way into the hallway, she didn't take her eyes off him.
Water slipped over him, twisting over his skin and giving it warmth. He stood with his eyes closed and simply let it flow over his body. It felt wonderful. It would be considered a fairly cool shower to most everyone, but to him it was perfect. It felt like life to him, felt correct. It was the most comfortable he'd felt in weeks.
He hated that they lived in the desert sometimes. He'd rather live somewhere colder. He wondered very often why of all places on Earth, his father had chosen this place. It was always too hot. Around forty or fifty degrees was the best temperature in his opinion. Heat was uncomfortable for him with his body temperature, especially the extreme heat of the Nevada desert. It was something that no matter how used to it he got, he'd never like it. He could bare it, though. But, only because he was technically a god.
Liz and Patty were rather offended the first few times he'd snapped at them for touching him, specifically for Patty trying to hug him. They'd figured it was because he thought they were dirty, because he saw them as less than himself, because they were street girls. That had never been the case.
There was still a hollow ache in his stomach, though he did not feel quite as thirsty. Mostly, though, this was because he'd been unconsciously drinking the water as it poured from the shower head.
He pulled his hair back with his fingers, thickening with white lather, and almost viciously scrubbed his scalp. He had never in his life gone this long without bathing. He was absolutely disgusted with the thin coating of grease that encased his skin. He was unable to focus on even straightening the paintings without first fixing it.
Of course, he shouldn't have to feel this way. If he'd just been left inside that book the entire time rather than frequently being ripped from it's pages by that deranged pet of Noah's, his body wouldn't have changed any. He wouldn't be so hungry or tired. He wouldn't feel like this.
He still had yet to really figure out just why he'd hated him so much. He was jealous of something, though he didn't know what. He probably would never know. It wasn't that important, he figured. There were other drastically more crucial details swarming his mind.
All that had happened in the book, all that Noah had wanted, his own sanity; all off it was begging for contemplation, among other things.
He could find no motivation behind Noah's actions. He simply wanted things for the sake of having them. There was nothing deeper, nothing more. He confused him. There was no reason behind his actions. It was unnecessary. It was irrational. Insanity.
Greed. That's all it was, was greed. Most people, though, had some intention for the things they collected. He just wanted, endlessly. More and more and more. He was a collector, a hoarder. His desire was simply to cull the most valuable things in the world. He was covetous for no reason at all other than to covet.
Kid supposed, eventually, that not everything had to have a reason. There should be order, though. There should be ways to sort everything. If there was no reason, there was only insanity. Or course, insanity usually has a reason behind it, does it not? Isn't there always a reason someone succumbs to madness?
He didn't know how to explain his thoughts in human language. He didn't even know quite how to explain them to himself. There were things he was discovering lately that he was incapable of conveying to anyone. He would never be able to tell a single person what he knew.
This was where he felt alienated, like he was something other than a human. This, of course, was something he was well aware of anyway. However, it was not something that normally effected his life so directly. He wanted to explain these things, wanted to talk to Liz an Patty about them, wanted to tell his partners, tell his friends, his dearest friends.
He still, though, with all of what he knew, could not truly know the motivations behind Noah's incessant cultivation. Although he also at the same time was only now becoming aware of the extent of his own obsessions.
He slipped his hands through his soaking hair as he let the water drag the lather from his hair, his fingers feeling the soap and waiting for it all to be rinsed out. He screwed up his face and gritted his teeth unintentionally. The empty ache he felt from hunger suddenly twisted into something else, something much more sinister that completely stole his appetite.
He breathed deeply and tried to exhale the feeling. However, his breath got caught in his tightly clenched teeth.
His need to keep all in order... He couldn't tell if it was insanity. Perhaps, when taken to the extent as he had within the book it could be considered so. Perhaps those thinkings and desires were mad. Of course, he had thought of them as well while in his right state of mind. He'd thought of it before, that just completely reducing the world to nothing would solve everything. He'd never, though, thought about truly carrying out such a feat until he'd drown in madness.
He could still feel that wavelength in his mind. He'd never forget it. He'd never forget the feeling of that substance on his face. It had been cold, enough so to burn his skin, but still felt strangely comfortable. It wiped out most all thought, let him drift into a fearless and reasonless state. It distorted true thinking, it rung in his ears, but it was so high pitched he could not truly hear it. Liquid radio static.
When the feeling of the water rushing over him and the darkness behind his eyelids became far too apparent, he winced. It did not couple well with his hatred towards the feeling.
Why had he thought that was a good feeling? Why had he let that take over him? Why had it been comforting?
There were times, he knew, where he did not want to think. There were always times he wished he could forget. He wished for it constantly. Now, though, he wasn't sure if that was what he truly wanted.
He wanted order. How could that order be obtained with madness? It didn't make sense. He should never go back down that road again. He should never let himself think like that again. Order. All he wanted was order. Why did he want it so badly, though?
Irrational rationality.
Insanity.
That blackness he'd experienced, it was like death. That was why he found it comfortable, because it was his. Death was his domain. It was infinite symmetry. It was something that all had to experience at some point. All fell victim to this order. It looked so similar, though, to madness and to the blackness behind his eyes.
He remembered stories his father once had told him about the reaper that came before him. He'd been the Death God during the GrecoRoman era. His name had been Thanatos. He had had a twin brother named Hypnos, who was a god of sleep.
Sleep was so very similar to death. It outwardly appeared nearly the same and was also an order all had to follow at some point, or else they'd fall into insanity.
Order. Life. Death. Sleep. Sanity.
There was too much to think about. His mind branched off into a million different directions, grabbing different thoughts that begged like so many spoiled children for him to answer each of their questions first.
He needed to sleep.
He ran his fingers over his hair. It still felt greasy. He didn't know if this was because there was still shampoo in it, or because it was still dirty. He hoped that it wasn't still dirty. He'd washed it six times already. He took in a deep breath, trying to alleviate the sick feelings inside his ribcage.
He still had to fix the paintings and fold the toilet paper. There were also the bookshelves in the library he hadn't fixed in a while. Then of course there was the contents of the kitchen Liz and Patty were sure to have messed up.
"Shut up" he hissed. "Just shut up"
His teeth were tight as the words seethed through them. But, of course, there were so many things that needed to be fixed. There were so many rugs that needed to be straightened, so much that needed to be dusted.
"Shut up. You're so stupid. You don't need to do that," he whispered. He tugged his hair, pulling it until the roots stung.
It didn't help. He leaned forward so that his forehead was touching the porcelain tiles. They, like the water, felt perfect against his skin, like another being, like someone just like him.
But there wouldn't ever be someone like him. He was the one who would have to take over for his father. He was the one who would have to keep order. It was not madness that made him like this. He did need to do it. Perhaps it was simply that he had nothing else, yet, to impose order upon. All he had was this house.
His father had the world.
He would have it someday too.
There was a loud knocking on the door suddenly that made him jump. He pulled away from the wall, standing alert and listening.
"Hey, Kid, you've been in there for almost an hour," she called, half of her voice getting lost on its way through the door. "Don'cha think you aughta get out now?"
They knocked, something they often were not so courteous to do, and allowed him to first grant them permission before entering his bedroom. When he did, though, they walked in with their normal air of relaxedness and fell into the couch cushions on either side of him. With the three of them sitting together, there was practically no room left on the small love seat.
"Jeez," Liz said as she placed a tray on the end table beside the love seat. "We were starting to think you'd died in there."
"M'sorry." He rubbed his eyes roughly with his fingertips, stretching his now quite dry skin over his cheekbones. "I still don't feel clean, though."
"Your hair is like straw," she commented, running her fingers over a bit of his bangs. She was careful, though, not to invade his space too much and pulled away quickly. "Seriously, did'ja wash it enough?"
Kid responded silently, shaking his head and shrugging lightly. He itched his forehead, his skin tight and laced with an odd prickling feeling as he moved the muscles in his face.
Both Liz and Patty had odd looks on their faces. They appeared conflicted, with genuinely pleased smiles, but worried eyes. They were soft looking, though, and welcoming. Liz gripped him by the shoulder tightly, comfortingly.
He allowed himself to smile slightly. However, the expression would not stick as the uneven weight began to become more apparent. He rolled his free shoulder uncomfortably, stiffening it and the muscles in his neck. His shoulder blades grinded backwards with forcibly tightened muscles. He opened his mouth to solicit change, but was obliged before the words left his tongue.
Patty gripped his other shoulder, restoring his balance, and the two leaned back into the couch with him. Kid sighed thankfully.
"This is yours, by the way," Liz said when he was relaxed again. She reached over to the end table, not releasing her grip on his shoulder, and picked up a bowl off the tray. She handed it to him, his hands taking it carefully. The porcelain was warm and smooth cupped in his fingers.
"Oh," he said in surprise. "I didn't know you meant real macaroni and cheese. I just sort of thought..."
"What? That I dunno how to cook?" Liz smirked. "You insult me," she said sarcastically, sighing dramatically and placing a hand on her chest.
"Well, you've never really cooked before, so..." he explained.
"Well, we weren't just gonna eat pizza for the whole time you were gone!" Patty said, smiling widely.
"I know, I know," Kid defended. "I wouldn't expect you to."
He felt both of their hands slip from his shoulders, though Patty's went first, as they shifted on the couch, curling up into the corners and leaning against the arms.
Kid stared down into the bowl that was clutched in his lap, at the elbows glued together with melted cheese and the thick crust of seasonings on the top layer of macaroni. It wasn't until now that there was food directly in front of him that he realized the extent of how hungry he was. The entirety of his ribcage felt empty and furious.
He stabbed the macaroni without a second thought, jamming as much onto the fork as possible, and shoved it into his mouth. He ate as fast as he could, with no regard to consistency or proper mannerisms, in a very un-Death-the Kid-like way.
"I fell weird about eating in front of you," he said, pausing with his fork full of macaroni.
"Oh, just eat," Liz told him. She kicked his thigh lightly. "We already ate anyway."
"Yeah, before Liz freaks out again," Patty snickered.
Liz rolled her eyes, looking only slightly irritated, but said nothing.
"Again?" Kid wondered as he continued eating. He mostly just wanted them to keep talking, but was still rather intrigued about when and why Liz had had a panic attack last. He could not recall one, or at least, could not recall a real one, that had happened recently.
"Mhmm," Patty nodded happily. Liz's eyes widened. "She was freakin' out the whole time you were gone."
"I was not," Liz interjected hastily. She leaned forward slightly towards her sister at the other end of the couch.
"Yes you were!" the younger girl said playfully. She reoriented herself so that her legs were crossed and so that she also was facing her sister. She grabbed her ankles and laughed deviously.
"Patty..." Liz pleaded, an embarrassed look on her face. Kid smirked amusedly. He missed their bickering, and it felt odd to have been missed in such a way. It wasn't as though he thought they didn't care, but he just had never thought about something like this happening. He felt important, strangely flawless. It made him feel absolutely elated from the inside out, and perfectly fulfilled. He felt perfect.
"No no! You totally were!" she said. She grabbed Kid's shoulder, rocking forward and leaning into him slightly before pushing herself back. "She totally was," she said to him. "Oh my God! We were learning 'bout chemistry an-"
"Patty!" the older girl snapped imploringly. Her eyes were wide, though her mouth was forced into a crude attempt at a smile.
"No! Lemme tell him!" Patty replied excitedly. She adjusted herself again so that she was facing Kid more. "Okay, so we been doin' chemistry and stuff lately and we're learnin' 'bout all kindsa bonding and shit, alright?"
Liz squirmed uncomfortably. Her face showed clearly how very much she did not want this story told.
"'Kay..." Kid urged, continuing to eat while listening intently.
"'Kay, so, there's this certain kinda bond called um..." she paused looking in all directions as though the name was written somewhere in Kid's bedroom. Meanwhile Liz had her face buried in the palms of her hands. "Um... Well, anyway. We were learning about this one bond thing that only works if it's symmetrical. And-"
"And it made me think of you and it made me miss you more, that's all," Liz interrupted suddenly. Her voice was a bit louder than necessary and there was something in the way she spoke that could be equated to bad acting.
"Nuh uh! That's not all!" Patty corrected. Kid's smirk widened, but he made sure to face his dish as he listened. "We hadda do a work sheet, kay? Where we hadda figger out if it was s'metrical 'er not and stuff and Liz couldn't do it a'cause-"
"Patty shut up!" she dictated in a desperate whispered scream.
"And she kept crying the whole time! And she couldn't do it at all!" Patty finished in disregard to her sister's wishes.
"I was not crying! That was not what happened!" Liz insisted. "I just... I don't know. It-I... I didn't know-" Liz's tongue and lips contorted confusedly as her mouth tried to force out words that were not yet even in her mind. "God, I hate both of you sometimes."
"Aww, I didn't know you cared so much," Kid said, snickering.
"Oh, hush," Liz said, shoving him lightly. She looked to be fighting a smile as well.
Kid sighed and reached over his partner to place his now empty dish on the end table. When he was seated properly again, he folded his knees into his chest and leaned back into the couch. Liz stared at him with eyes that were almost mournful for several seconds, her smile gone again. She bit her lip. Before he could think, though, Kid was surrounded in her arms and his face was being pressed into her shoulder.
Her body temperature wasn't quite as hard for him to endure as it usually was. He, in fact, minded very little. He did not pull away from her. He did not ask her to let go, especially since she seemed to have become upset. His arms, which were awkwardly tucked between his chest and hers, were moved carefully to hug her back. Though, he was hesitant and slow to put them into the correct position.
"I don't care if you don't like hugs. You're freaking getting one after all this crap," She said, her words obscured slightly by his shoulder.
"It's... It's... fine," he said when no other options for replies entered his mind.
"Seriously. You don't know how worried I was," she continued.
Kid mumbled something incoherent with his face now pressed too tightly into her shoulder for proper vocation. Liz continued none the less.
"I mean," she said. "You just fricken go and get your arm cut off and almost die, you put your arm back on, which, I'd still love to know how the hell you did that, and then you just get sucked into that stupid book before we can really tell if you're okay and then we don't see you for three weeks and-"
"Okay, I'm sorry for making you worry so much," Kid said laughingly after he finally managed to place his chin on top of her shoulder instead of in it.
"Don't apologize," she ordered.
She held onto him for some time before releasing him. He pulled away from her in the same shaky and unsure fashion with which he'd hugged her. As soon as he began to sit back into the couch, though, he was pulled in the other direction.
Patty's arms encircled him quickly and tightly. She squeezed him, his arms being pressed into his ribs and his face into her breasts. She squealed delightedly and he grunted in discomfort. This did not seem like a very loving hug. In fact, she seemed far more intent on strangling him than hugging him. He knew she'd missed him though. He still understood what she meant. Patty was not one for dramatic words, or really anything deeply intimate. Her sister also had likely said everything she was thinking as well. There was nothing more she needed to do.
When she finally let go and he pulled away from her, she was laughing and giggling madly. It was also evident on her face that Patty had more to tell him.
"Also," she started. "Since you were gone, we went on some missions by Killik and them and it was pretty bitchin'. And I kicked some people's asses in training."
Kid waited for her to continue.
"And also, oh my God, all the stuff that happened in the book when we were comin' to get you," she said excitedly.
"Oh, good lord," Liz sighed.
"Kay so- Wait," Patty stopped herself. "You were in the book. Did you have to go through all the chapters?" The younger girl had a horribly mischievous grin on her face.
Liz's eyes widened in thought for a moment before her face adopted her sister's smirk. "Yeah, Kid," she said. "Did you have to go through all the chapters and... experience any changes from it? "
He eyed them both carefully and fairly confusedly for a moment before answering. The thought of the madness came back to him, of what he'd done under it's influence. He'd honestly rather not share that experience with them just yet. It made him sick to think of all the thoughts that had crossed his mind. "What exactly are you getting at?"
"Look, all we're asking is, 'Did anything happen to you during the first seven chapters of the book?'" Liz clarified, still smirking.
The first seven chapters.
"No," he said simply. "Nothing happened."
His two partners most certainly did not believe him. They glanced at each other with raised eyebrows.
"You're sure about that?" Liz pressed.
"Yes," he said irritably, too irritably.
"Liar," Patty said.
Kid crossed his arms over his chest and stared at his knees. His mouth was glued shut and his throat was tight, locking any words away to prevent them from escaping.
"Come on," Liz pried. That smirk was still on both her's and her sister's face. When his own face stayed sullen and concrete, they began giggling madly.
"What?" he asked confusedly.
At that their laughter burst like a bubble and the two were falling over themselves, tripping in amusement. Patty's forehead fell to his knee when her body was too occupied with trying to force her to breathe to hold her upright, and Liz's face was was pressed into the back of the couch as she gagged on the hilarity.
"What?" he asked again, more forcefully this time.
"I have no idea what you're laughing about," he said when they did not stop.
"Th-the," Liz started when her breath caught up with her. "The first chapter. We're asking about the first chapter."
Kid only gave them a more confused look.
"The lust chapter," she continued, impatience cutting her voice.
Still, his face did not change.
"Did you turn into a girl or what!" Patty blurted out, finally.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said simply.
"Oh, like fuck you don't," Patty smirked.
Kid made every effort to look away from them.
"How long did it take you to change back?" Liz snickered.
"How big were your tits!"
"Patty!"
"What?"
"We're not talking about this," Kid said, rubbing his eyes.
"Yeah we are," Patty pressed. "What'd you look like? Seriously I wanna know if you're hornier than Tsubaki. I mean, you're kind of a slut anyway, but-"
"Patty!" Liz scolded again.
"Wait what?" Kid asked.
"Well, I'm not gonna lie you're kind of a slut. I mean you're a nice slut, but-"
"No no not that. Well, yes that, but later," he cut her off. "What the hell does Tsubaki-"
"Oh! Oh my god!" Patty giggled. "Tsubaki was the last to change back, so she's the horniest!"
Kid looked at her for wide eyes for a moment. An awkward smile spread across his face. "I don't believe you," he said flatly.
"Well, it's a true story so you should," she said, leaning back into the couch with her arms crossed.
"So back to the matter at hand," Liz started. "What do you look like as a chick?"
"I said we're not talking about this," he said strictly as he pushed himself off the couch. The two girls suddenly looked alarmed, as well as apologetic, as he paced away from them.
"Hey, don't run away," Liz objected. "We can talk about something else."
"I'm not leaving you," he said reassuringly. "This is just pissing me off." He made his way over to his bed. "I'm still listening."
The light was dimmer on this end of the room, and so his eyes flickered and reflected softly as he fixed his sheets. He was careful, holding them delicately in his fingers and straightening them with focus unmatched. He waited for them to continue speaking, but the moment had been tugged to a point of tearing by his abruptness. Silence fell between them as he unblinkingly fixed his sheets which had seemed so important.
As he stared and neatened and no words were made, he contemplated the importance of such an act. He wondered why sheets of all things made him so frustrated. He wondered why inanimate, soulless, objects demanded to have order imposed on them. Why did he care so much?
He pulled his hands away from the mattress then and stepped back. He fidgeted with his fingers, the ones that normally had rings on them. The lack of silver suddenly became alarmingly obvious, and blatantly annoying. Why did it matter so much?
He twisted his hands together awkwardly, feeling over the empty spot roughly in an attempt to compensate for the void. It didn't help. He shouldn't be focusing on this. He shouldn't be. There were much more important things.
"Are you okay?" he heard Liz say eventually.
It shocked him to hear her say that and brought up a feeling inside of him that was both thanking and uneasy. His hands momentarily stopped moving and he stared at the wooden floor beneath his feet.
When he didn't respond, Liz stood and said, "Patty, you should go get more for him."
Patty hesitated for a moment before standing as well and taking the tray from the side table. This as well made him feel odd. Liz waited until her sister had left the room before walking over to him and sitting on the bed. The mattress dipped and the sheets crumpled under her weight.
"I'd just fixed that," Kid said, alarmed and the now disheveled sheets. And it doesn't matter, he reminded himself.
"I know," she said a bit harshly. "Now what's wrong. Something's bugging you."
He only stared at her as he fought with himself about what to say. There was a long silence between them, or at least there was for Liz. Kid's mind was screaming and swarming with thoughts. He had no idea what to say to her. He didn't know if he should tell her just yet about the book and about the madness. He didn't know if he was capable or if he really wanted to. He didn't know anything at the moment it seemed. Then he thought of something.
"We should go back to where we found brew," he said. Liz's eyes widened astonishedly.
"What?" she asked carefully, his statement sounding ludicrous.
"We need to go back to the field," he explained by not elaborating in the least.
"Why?" she asked slowly, her lips taking the shape of the word several seconds before she was able to force out the sound.
"There's something I need to do there," he said. "It's very important."
"Um, alright..." She still eyed him oddly.
"I'd like to go as soon as possible," he continued. He ran a hand through his damp hair. His stripes were dyed silver with the water from his shower. "Actually..."
He paused and looked at the ground, wetting his chapped lips in thought. Then he walked away from her without finishing his sentence. He paced over tho his closet and threw open the doors. He pulled a dress shirt from within and draped it over his arm. As he began to pull out a suit jacket as well, Liz squirmed in anticipation.
"'Actually...?'" she urged him to continue.
"Hm?" He turned with a hanger in his grip, an alert look on his face.
"What were you saying?" she pressed.
"Oh," he said, pausing to drape the suit jacket over his arm. "I'd like to go tonight."
"What!" she shrieked in alarm. "Kid, you've only been home for like, two hours."
"Yes, and I'd like to get going as soon as possible," he repeated himself calmly. It was becoming more and more important to him the loner he thought about it that he get back to the magnetic field. "I need to do some research."
"And you can't wait until, maybe tomorrow to do this?" she asked.
He stopped his motions again, this time with neatly folded pants hanging from his fingers on a hanger. He flexed his fingers oddly, making sure to rub them all against to middle ones in the absence of his rings. He then draped the pants over his arm and proceeded to then lay all the clothes he picked on the bed next to his partner.
As he paced over to his dresser he answered her with a slightly confused sounding, "You... You don't understand."
Liz sighed through her nose. "I really think you should at least wait until tomorrow."
"No," he said. "Look, I... I really really need to do this now. You don't have to come if you don't want to."
"Kid..." she tried.
"No," he insisted. "Listen," he began, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his dresser drawer as he began to pace. "There's just some things I need to know. I can probably get back here before ten o'clock tomorrow if I get going now. It's not a big deal."
"If it's not a big deal," Liz persuaded, "Then you can wait."
"No, I can't," he said firmly as he continued to walk back and forth in front of her. "I just have some things I need to take care of. You wouldn't understand."
"Why wouldn't I?" she asked. At that moment, the door clicked opened and Patty quietly slipped back in with the tray.
"It's got to do with being a reaper," he explained.
"Ah. Of course," she huffed. "And I'm too stupid to get it."
"That's not what I'm saying," he told her.
"Yes. Yes you are," she insisted.
"No," he said again. "I just don't know how to explain it in a way you'd understand."
"So I'm stupid," she concluded.
"No, that's not what I'm saying," he restated more forcefully, a bit through his teeth.
"What's he going on about now?" Patty whispered to her sister as she climbed onto the bed and lay next to her.
"He's saying I'm stupid," Liz reiterated.
"No. I am not, Liz," Kid defended. His pacing was becoming more frantic. "I just have no idea how to explain it to you."
"Because I wouldn't understand," she concluded dully.
"No, because I don't even know how to explain it to myself!" he said with a tightened jaw. "I really need to go back to the field, Liz. Really. I can't wait until tomorrow."
Both girls were quiet for a moment while his pacing slowly became manic. "I have to go there," he said again. "I have to figure some things out. I don't know what to do otherwise."'
"What's at the field?" Patty asked.
"Just..." he paused. "Something that'll answer some questions I have."
The two just watched him worriedly as he walked so panickedly before them.
"You can do that tomorrow," Liz urged.
"There's no point in waiting. There's nothing I have to do," he explained.
"Yes, of course. Nothing to do," Liz said sarcastically. "You don't have to tell your father who was freaking out about you that you're okay. You don't have to sleep. You don't have anything to do."
"I'm not tired," he said. "And I don't like visiting my dad this late at night."
"Right," she rolled her eyes. "That's why you're pacing."
"What does that have to do with anything?" he said irritably.
"You always freak out in exactly this way when you're tired," she explained. "If you weren't tired, you'd be on the floor."
"That's not true," he said simply. "I don't feel like sleeping right now. I need to go to the field." He twisted his hands around his middle fingers. He needed to just put his rings back on.
"Tomorrow," she continued. "I think you need to sleep right now."
Kid finally stopped pacing and ripped open his dresser drawer to get a pair of socks, which he promptly added to the pile on his bed. He then opened another drawer and dug through it briefly before groaning. "Where are my suspenders?" he said irately.
"You left them in the bathroom," Liz sighed.
As soon as the words left her mouth, Kid was headed toward the door, which he promptly wrenched open and fled through. Once he'd crossed the hall to his bathroom and retrieved them, he came back and threw them on the bed with the rest of his clothes.
Liz sat on the edge of his bed with her head in the palm of her hand. Patty looked oddly contemplative sitting next to her. Kid continued to dig through his dresser.
"Kid, I don't really think that now is the time for this sort of thing," Liz said tiredly.
"Now is probably the best time, actually," he responded.
"Tomorrow," she pushed. "Tomorrow."
"Will you excuse me so that I can get dressed?" he said politely.
"No," Liz said quickly, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Sit. Here. Now." She pointed to the space on the bed on her other side.
"I don't have time," he claimed through his teeth.
"Yes you do," she said. "Now calm your shit and come over here."
Kid crossed his arms and sighed as he walked over to the bed. He stared at her and waited impatiently for her to say whatever she had to say so that he could finish getting ready.
"I'm not your mother, Kid," she said exasperatedly. "But, seriously, just wait until tomorrow morning. I highly doubt it's as crucial as you're making it out to be."
Kid's eyes rolled to the side and he glared to the wall for a moment with his doubled irises. When they rolled back, they were slightly more composed, but only slightly.
"Just go to bed so you can think a little less neurotically," she continued. "Seriously."
"I'm not going to be able to sleep until I've done this," he said, forcing himself to sound calm. He couldn't even imagine himself closing his eyes at the moment. His exhaustion was entirely gone. He couldn't feel it anymore at all. Perhaps he'd become numb. "I'm not tired."
"Really? 'Cause you look like you're gonna pass out in a few seconds," Patty said with a bored glare in her eyes and her words muffled by her hand being pressed into her cheek.
"Think about what you're doing for a second," Liz said. "You over-think absolutely everything in exactly the wrong ways all the time."
It was becoming alarming to him to hear her say all these things about him. He never really thought people were actually that observant of others' actions. He never thought he'd hear such a thing. He never thought they payed that much attention. Then again, his soul wavelength was fired through them continuously on ever mission. Resonance was something they did commonly. It was only natural they'd know these things. Of course, though, no one ever really thinks that anyone notices anything accept their flaws. Reapers were no exception.
He let a breath out through his nose in an attempt to release the tension building in his limbs and mind. It did little to help, as did finally deciding to sit next to his two partners. On Liz's left. He was not in the middle.
"Patty, could you-"
"Uh huh," she agreed. He didn't need to finish. She crawled over to sit on his other side to fix his symmetry.
As he sat on the bed, though, he could easily see his reflection in the mirrors that covered the entire western wall. His eyes, he supposed, did look a bit haggard, with bruises brought on by fatigue defining them. He tried to ignore his stripes and looked down as soon as possible, rubbing his eyes. He did not like to dwell on his reflection for long.
"Okay, now what the hell happened in that stupid book?" Liz asked much more calmly.
Kid looked at her suspiciously out of the corner of his eye.
"BlackStar told us some serious shit happened," Patty explained. "But he wouldn't tell us nothin' else 'cause he said you'd be pissed if he did."
Normally, he'd be surprised that BlackStar of all people would be so considerate, but he for some reason wasn't in this situation. He only sighed and rubbed his eyes again. He didn't speak, though. He wasn't sure he was able to.
The two sisters waited patiently as he stared so intently at his neatly folded hands. He studied his fingers, coated in milky skin and missing their rings. He kept twisting them uncomfortably as he couldn't just convince himself that his rings were not on. He kept thinking that they were there. He kept thinking he should feel them.
"I don't know," he said finally.
He felt Patty wrap her arms around him momentarily, squeezing him tightly before letting go. She didn't crush him this time. She was trying to help, trying to comfort him. The Kid was not one to talk about these things easily, hence his neurosis.
He clutched his fingers.
"Just, some things," he said. "I did some stupid things and I don't know."
He was glad they were listening. He knew that with his constant panic attacks it could be hard to take him seriously in situations like these. He took in another deep breath.
"I just have no idea what I've been doing with my life," he said. "I'm probably an even worse reaper than I thought I was."
"Well that's a relief," Liz said. Kid turned his head and eyed her warily. "Or, well, I mean, it's not a good thing that you're having identity issues but well, I thought they did something to you and you were gonna have to go to counseling again."
"BlackStar said there was a big blobby thing that turned your brain to mush," Patty said, wanting to know more.
"I thought you said he didn't say anything," Kid commented.
"Well, that was the only other thing he told us," she explained. "He didn't say nothin' else, though, or really give us any details."
Kid nodded and prepared himself to speak with another breath. "It was a uh..." he paused, trying to think of how to phrase it. "A being that regulates power, and it sort of brings insanity and I sort of realized how nonsensical symmetry is."
Both of their eyes widened a they stared at him in astonishment.
"I mean, I still can't really get over the whole um..." he hesitated. "The whole... OCD thing." He winced, as he'd never admitted out loud he had this problem. Now that he had, though, it seemed very logical and real. "But, what I've been doing, with the symmetry; the world isn't meant to be like that. There sort of needs to be disorder in order to have order, I think."
"Well, yeah, things aren't supposed to be perfect," Patty added.
"I know. I get that now." He closed his eyes. "There's some other stuff too, though, that I'm not quite as sure of it. That's why I need to go to the field. There's something there I need to do and it's going to kill me if I have to wait any longer."
"Well, I'm still gonna say you should wait until tomorrow," Liz said. "But, at least you figured out all this stuff before you actually became the Grim Reaper. Hell, if you hadn't, the world would have seas of disinfectant instead of water."
The two giggled lightly, trying to make his mood less somber. Kid smiled a tiny bit, but his eyes still looked dazed. Liz wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pressed him to her gently. He went with it, unfazed like a rag doll with distant eyes, until she let go.
"You know what to do now, though, right? Or at least sort of," she concluded for him. "So things'll get better. Me 'n' Patty had the same issue, remember? When we first came here?"
"Yes," he said. "I remember."
"Right," she said.
Kid blinked tiredly, his eyes closing for a long time before he opened them again.
"Now go to bed," she said sternly. "You'll probably feel better in the morning."
This time, he did not object and simply nodded. His eyes would not stay open anymore, as his numbness had subsided. He closed them easily and began to adjust himself as the two girls removed themselves from his bed. He shut off the light as they left and fell into his mattress immediately after. As the door clicked shut, he pulled his previously neatened covers over himself. They smelled strongly of soap and his house as he pressed his face into them.
With all of his thoughts now finally released, there was nothing left to swim in his mind. There was nothing to keep him from sleeping, and he finally trusted the blackness behind his eyelids. He fell into it with ease, the clothes he'd picked out still laying on his bed and the paintings still crooked. He didn't care, though.
He slept until noon.
A/N: It's OVER 9000!
Why was that so long! AUGH! I swear, I just kept looking at the word count and thinking "but it's not even half done!" So yeah. This is the longest thing I've ever written, with a grand total of 9300 words. Twenty-Four pages. Yep. Probably shoulda broken that up into two chapters...
...
I'm going to bed...
