Act 1: Into the Light
Chapter 13: Conversations With the Night
Drip… Drip… Drip…
The drops of water from the faucet echoed through the small bathroom. Every single one, despite how small or large, ended up in the same pool of black water in the sink. The way they'd cling to the almost mirror-like metal before ultimately letting go and falling into the endless abyss of black was no stranger to David. In his mind, why bother trying to hang on when you were destined to fall into something everyone would be in? But then again, here he was in Atlas clinging to the last of his stupid dreams from when he was little.
Drip… Drip… Drip…
Stupid dreams…
Drip… Drip… Drip…
David's thin hands grabbed the edges of his sink. His grip was so tight that his hands looked practically white from the lack of blood flow. He looked like he was going to be sick as leaned over the black pool of water that had formed in his sink. It looked endless, yet reflected the Irish teen's features like the mirror across from him. He huffed, hesitantly letting go of the sink as his hands slowly traced his black hair. It was soaked, clinging to his forehead, chin, and cheeks like glue. His silver eyes looked like they were glowing as they reflected the rather pathetic inflorescent lights attached to the mirror. Yet those reflective orbs held rings under them that were almost pitch black
"Stupid…"
He whispered to himself as he grabbed a black bottle next to the faucet of the sink. His long fingers wrapped around the plastic bottle tightly as he shook it, and he pursed his lips at just how easily he had shaken it. He couldn't feel a single ounce of liquid left, and his silver orbs narrowed as they stared at it. His eyes twitched and were quickly followed by the Irish teen proceeding to try and squeeze the empty bottle. But the pressure from his hands only seemed to dent it before he sighed. He grit his teeth, pulling his hand back as he threw the bottle into the bathtub to his right with a loud thump following his sudden throw.
The bottle thunked around in the bathtub before growing silent, leaving the Irish teen in science once more aside from the constant dripping that he heard from that damn sink. His boney fingers quickly landed on top of the faucet handle before he adjusted it, turning off the drips completely. David sighed again, slowly letting his hand flop to his side before his silver eyes caught the sight of black on the sink and faucet. He was confused, wondering where it had all come from before he put his hands up. They were covered in black… Of course, he had forgotten to put on those stupid gloves. Why would he be smart for once…
He pulled the small lever on the back of the faucet for the drain, turning the water back on as he started to douse his hands in soap from one of the smaller bottles he had taken from home. His eyes felt like they were stinging constantly, and like always he couldn't say that he had even slept. Of course, like he had forgotten to bring more bottles of hair dye, he had forgotten to take more than just one damn bottle for his insomnia pills. So he was stuck for about a month without them while he waited for Atlas to make sure that their purchase of his medications wouldn't be tracked. Why in the world did he think that trying to dye his hair again at THREE AM would be a good idea?
David could only mentally slap himself as he finished washing his hands, turning off the water as he flicked the light switch to the bathroom, and walked out. He would have been back in his room fully, but he quickly caught himself when he almost forgot to dry off his hands. Lucky enough for the Irish teen, after En's little 'incident' a few days prior, Ivor had given them time to completely unpack. He just hoped the wait to go into the classrooms would be a welcome one. But in his experience, waiting for something like that just wasn't in his area of… comfort so to say.
The boy looked around his now completely organized and unpacked room. Should he read his father's books for the thousandth time in a row? Or should he look through the already very limited access Atlas gave that had around seventy-five percent of the sites he visited be blocked? It made him so damn bored, and for one frankly annoyed that he had to deal with all his classmates screaming in his ears. David for one could just be glad his family wasn't brought up more than once, and it was an easy enough topic to avoid around his peers as well. What ate away at him was just how… quiet Atlas was. The library was his damn safe haven, but having Noriaki and Alivia constantly in there talking about books they had been reading, or well more so Alivia talking at the cat boy. She wasn't super quiet when she was excited, and David just liked his peace and quiet.
But too much quiet was the issue for him, and Atlas had almost everything to the outside world restricted. He'd just wanted to watch the newest production of Jekyll and Hyde because he was bored, and the damn site was blocked. He'd wanted to scream murder murder when the link didn't work, so he was left with his books which he had to stay in his room to read peacefully. But then he was cut out from everyone else, not that he had an issue with that though. Being stuck in a room that was as big as your average Junior Freshmen university dorm with at least a somewhat sizable bathroom made it easy to go stir-crazy. For the resident Irish teen, going stir-crazy with his thoughts was the opposite of desirable.
"Nothing to fucking do…" He whispered to himself, crossing his arms as his silver eyes scanned his bedroom. Like everything in his life, everything had been placed and left alone to gather dust. His books were all organized in the reading order for every series, except for a few series that had prequels. He practically knew every word on all the pages, so David couldn't help but wonder what the point was in reading them again. His thin fingers slid along his rows of books like a child hoping to find something new in the fridge despite looking two minutes ago. David was so damn bored and combining his insomnia with the feeling that he had to be doing something productive was chipping away at him.
"..."
Jason Connor was the name on the book David's fingers stopped on. He seemed to almost caress the spine of the book as he pursed his dry lips. The Irish boy seemed frozen, stuck like time itself had stopped. His eyes would twitch, followed by stillness, only to be met again with another small twitch. He was silent with his finger still glued to the book as it seemed like he couldn't move his fingers away. His mouth slightly opened as he breathed, holding his breath for a moment before he slowly exhaled. The Irish teen's eyes moved away from the name as he slowly grabbed the book.
David quickly shook his head as he crossed his arms with the book in hand and started to pace.
What in the world was there to do? Read his father's books? Yeah sure, like he had the mental fortitude at such a late time to do anything. But if he stayed in his room at that rate, he'd be hitting his head against the wall in some vain attempt to knock himself out. He groaned as he ran his hand through his wet hair and thought to himself. To say he was bored would be an understatement, and that there was nothing to do was an overstatement. He could start writing in his book again… But he'd forgotten where the hell he was going with the current scene so the pace would have been ruined.
"Why is there nothing to dooooo…" He groaned, leaning against the wall next to his door. David thought to himself again, staring at the ceiling before he closed his eyes. Maybe a lack of stimulation would make it easier to think to himself? Or maybe yet again he was lying to himself to make his lack of action justified. "FUCK!" The Irish teen exclaimed, slamming his closed fist against the wall as his eyes snapped open. Damn his stupid insomnia and all of the pains that came with oh so FUN sleepless nights. Maybe he just needed to let off some steam, and get moving so that he'd be so physically exhausted there he couldn't stay awake? The problem with that was the curfew…
Oh yeah, the curfew…
In his mind there was no damn curfew when he couldn't SLEEP, so what was a curfew to him. What were they gonna do? Tell him to go sleep? They knew he didn't have his medication, so if they tried to stop him they'd have to force him to go to bed. At least that had better chances of making him go to his little dreamland instead of the living world that he felt tired of. Then again, maybe his night terrors would meet him there? Ah, how much he loved a lose-lose scenario…
"Fuck it…" He said to himself as he turned toward his door from the wall, his hand immediately wrapping themselves around his cold handle. When he opened it, he was met with the dark outlines of all the furniture in the commons. A few fluorescent lights from the tall roof of the facility made it barely illuminated, like a full moon on a dark summer night. Sometimes he was so much like his father it hurt…
But what caught his attention was the extra light across the commons from a fridge light. Its door was left wide open, adding to David's annoyance. Seemingly his classmates couldn't even shut a damn door correctly, how comical of them…
David clicked his tongue, walking out as his bare feet hit the cold marble floor as he approached the carpeted circle that the entertainment stations sat on. His silver eyes reflected the small light from the ceiling, making them look like small white dots from afar as he walked. Sometimes he couldn't help but wonder to himself how his father and Luke could walk alone at night. Whenever his mother and father had gotten into yet another argument, his dad would always come back an hour later almost completely recovered. Luke somehow, was the same way, and yet he was the guy who was always action action action. So how on earth he would get calmed from walking alone at night mystified him. Were they having conversations with the night itself? Talking into some dark meaningless void that was always there to listen?
The Irish teen sighed, staring at the red couches and chairs as he approached the fridge. Atlas, the pinnacle of a dying breed in a world full of chaos seemed to be everything he thought it would be. The Hero Assassination Task Force with their attacks sent so many people into a panic that it was no surprise enrollment in hero schools dropped around sixty percent. Destroying the hero school that was on everyone's pedestal didn't help either, and David was more than surprised that nobody had tried to revive UA years later. And the loss of Vox…
He looked away from the chairs and toward the doorway that connected the dorms and cafeteria to the center of the facility as he slowly shut the door. Before he moved, he looked back at the seats and closed lunch line before he looked back to the entryway. He paused, scanning the area before he turned back and walked toward the square entrance. The marble floor was so cold, but he was used to it with how his quirk worked, a little cold didn't kill anyone.
The more the boy thought to himself, the more he realized just how much he hated the smell of Atlas. He couldn't describe it in any other words besides sterile. It had the distinct scent of something extremely well-cleaned, and that alone made him start to hate it even more. All that was missing from that smell was the sound of a heart monitor and breathing tube. Oh, and how could he forget IVs and a bunch of medical equipment stuck into someone on top of that? Just how it smelled in the facility was enough to make him want to throw up, and that endless pit in his stomach that he all but wanted to forget just kept crawling back like an unbeatable disease.
His thought made him glance at the book he had taken from his room with pursed lips. His silver orbs danced over the leather cover of the book displaying the title 'The New Age: A Silver Lining'. A silver lining? He still didn't know who of all the things his father could have called his books, it was always something so random. But the thought only made him scoff at the own titles he had given his chapters in his book. Brot? What was that supposed to mean? He just saw it on a search engine and thought it sounded cool, yet the names of his father's chapters always had a point. It made him want to laugh, and it almost did as a small exhale of air escaped his half-closed mouth. To say it made him feel inadequate would be the understatement of the century, and yet that's where he found himself as a hero too.
'You have such a strong quirk!' They'd say, 'You were born to be a hero!' his brother would chant. No, he wasn't, and no, he didn't. It didn't MATTER if he could make whirlwinds like his brother, he could barely hold them for more than ten seconds until he felt like his arms were about to explode. And he was NO hero, not even close. Why would someone like him be a hero? Someone that overlooked every advantage and little opportunity that was given to him on a silver platter. It disgusted him that Ivor thought that he of all people deserved to be at Atlas, especially after everything he's done. Volker didn't even know, or at least David hoped he didn't…
The Irish teen grew closer to another set of furniture in the middle of the gigantic square toom connected to the elevator to his left, the entrance hall to his right, and the classroom hall across from him. The darkness of the facility still prevailed, but his eyes had luckily adjusted to the lack of light. He could see the outline of more chairs and couches, but a noticeable abundance of potted plants and tables. It seemed much more like a study hall than a commons area, which David could guess is what the area was for. Although, he'd be lucky if some of his classmates didn't barge in and ruin his seclusion. It's not as if he was going to be that important, so it always made him wonder why despite having a relatively quiet group of 'friends' that the people around him were so obnoxious.
David's silver eyes fixated on the red furniture as he drew closer to the study area, staring intently. His head turned as he looked around himself, searching just in case anyone had seen him. The Irish teen at least spent half a minute looking around before his shoulders sagged in relief. He sat down on the couch, feeling his body sinking into the cushions like a marshmallow. Even the furniture was of high quality, so David could only guess what Ivor really did skip out on to save face and budget. He could only imagine the conversations the man had when he said he needed such high-quality couches and chairs.
His fingers glided along the leather cover, the letters sewn into the red of it nearly worn completely away. It felt rough, like sandpaper after it was rubbed against concrete in some attempt to smooth it out. The pages in the book made it a bit hefty for its size, and David still all those years later couldn't help but be surprised it didn't explode like a bomb made of paper. But for being six years old, the book looked like it was only a month or so after its publication. Taking care of the only copy of the book in the world meant he had to treat it with respect. But, the Irish teen would have rather skipped maths and cleaned the book or read it instead of worrying so much about other things.
David's silver eyes went back to the name on the cover.
"Dad…" He whispered to himself, gently placing his fingers right below the name on the leather cover. It made his mind wander, far more than he should have. Maybe it was stupid to think to others, but to him, the one neverending question he couldn't help but shake was one thing; What would his father have thought of him? Would he have supported where he was? Would he have gotten angry at him for abandoning his mum and pursuing the rotting corpse of a dream? Would he have approved of who he was, or what he wasn't? He remembered how proud he was of his brother when he graduated from UA, so would that pride have transitioned into being at Atlas? But… the more David thought, the more he knew that if his father was still here, none of this would have happened. Atlas wouldn't exist, and well… Luke would still be alive, and he'd have stopped those shitheads from destroying everything.
Was he really that useless?
Ever since the day his father died, he couldn't shake the feeling he had been a waste of space in his little world of existence. That idea of helplessness, the thought that haunted him every day never left him. He remembered how he came home after the night his father died, and how everyone just stared at him. They were just ten, so he didn't expect anyone to try and be nice and come to try and console him. The saying kids can be cruel always rang true for David, but in his mind, kids were just as helpless as they were cruel. Unlike his classmates, he was made aware of the concept a bit earlier than he probably should have. His jaded perspective never meshed well with his classmates after that, aside from just a few friends that ended up ditching him a year later. Not that he could blame them.
If he had a chance to go back, David wasn't even sure he would want to. Seeing his father go from a tall and pretty healthy man to something that looked so damn sickly was a memory he'd never get out of his head. Watching out his body weight shot down so fast and how he thinned out made him almost look inhuman. Never mind that his cheeks and eyes were so sullen from his balding head from chemo, but that made his stare look more deathly than a corpse. He could barely talk without needing water to wet his throat, and he couldn't even walk. His body grew so weak in just four months that he couldn't support himself on his legs. Even his neck grew so weak that cement needed to be put inside of it so he'd have proper support.
His skin looked almost grey by the end of his life, looking more like a corpse than a human in the hours before his death. It was strange to him at the time, and he hadn't processed that his father wasn't going to win that time. The Irish teen thought that his father like all the times he had gotten some form of skin cancer before would beat it in a week. Even when the diagnosis came, he thought that of all people that could beat something said to be unbeatable, it would be Jason Connor. He was an idiot, and the longer his father went on, the more he kept clinging to that one vain hope that he'd be able to do something with him again. Like, bring him to that rugby game that they'd wanted to see for well over a year with Luke. But hopes and dreams couldn't defeat the reality of the situation, and David felt like deep down he didn't have much time left no matter how much he said otherwise.
Every day that passed was just another he'd be ghosted by Luke too, God forbid he wanted to see his big brother so that he'd have someone to talk to. He was never the closest with his mum, but to say that he didn't love her would be wrong. Since she was always with his father, and Luke just never showed up despite how much he messaged him… he was alone like always. He couldn't forget how the day before his father died, Luke had PROMISED him he'd be there… But he didn't show, and it led to the second worst day of his life with nobody there besides his mother to watch his father die.
Unlike all those hero movies and shows that he'd watched, people dying don't go out with some final words of inspiration. The day he woke up in his bedroom down the hall that led to his living room was with his barn owl mutant mum gently shaking him awake. He could remember hearing her saying 'It's time…' in her American accent, and even at ten years old he knew exactly what she meant. He didn't need some pep talk to tell him what was about to happen, nor did he need to be babied on what he was about to see. David knew what was coming, and couldn't draw out the reality of the situation any longer. Just like a timer, the clock had run out, and he was forced to sit and watch his world shatter before him.
His father would gently move around, his eyes halfway rolled up as he swayed his limbs. The nurse that had been coming in every day was there with a cube made of sugar, rolling it around his mouth to stimulate his senses. His grey skin, his sunken cheeks and eyes, his bald head, and his thin body that almost made him look alien… David barely even recognized his father on his deathbed, and a sick part of him just wanted his father dead already. He didn't want that pain anymore, he didn't want to watch his father die, and he didn't want to lose the one person that he felt understood him when Luke wasn't there. He wanted to hear the stories his father would tell before he went to bed. He wanted to see his father watch him become a hero. He wanted his father to stay, he wanted him to STAY. Even those split-second moments when his father would come to, and look at everyone in their family that had packed into their living room sitting around, David knew that was when his father was alive.
That process of being out of it and coming back repeated for almost twelve whole hours. Maybe his father didn't want to go either, but David didn't want him to stay anymore. He wanted his pain to stop, he wanted his father's hurting and cancer to just go away. The Irish teen eventually got his wish, even if he knew he didn't want it to come true.
Those moments of lucidity grew more and more spaced between each other, and those twelve agonizing hours grew worse as they passed. David could remember every moment of the last hour clearly, able to recall almost every detail as if it had just happened. Even though he knew his father's death was an inevitability, it didn't make it any better. The last time he was even lucid was two minutes, thirty-three seconds before four thirteen on August twelfth. He remembered those silver eyes widening as his father looked around the room. David could still see the smile he gave with a slight huff and sigh before he looked toward the ceiling. The way he gripped his and his mum's hand with the last of his strength before he closed his eyes still stuck with him. He still felt his father's almost sandpaper-like skin gripping him tightly as it grew weaker and weaker until…
His father breathed out, sounding almost half between a snore and a gargle as his body tried to make him breathe in but…
Nothing, no words, no I love yous, no story, no motions. Just like that, he was dead in their living room.
And yet… Luke STILL wasn't there, off on some stupid mission.
David didn't know rather to laugh or cry at how long everyone in the living room remained motionless after his father passed away right in front of them. His cousins were the first to move, tears streaming down their faces as they buried themselves into their mothers. Then his two uncles from his dad's side slowly walk over to the bed and kneel as they put their heads on the mattress. After that, his grandparents started sobbing, and then a chain reaction of everyone there starting to sob. But David didn't, he physically felt like he was frozen in place as he still gripped his dad's hand tightly even if it didn't back. He stared at his father's corpse for a solid twenty minutes, his mind empty as he didn't let go of that sandpaper hand. Even his mum let go eventually as they waited for the ambulance to come grab his body. But not David, he didn't even flinch as his family started to move around him. Some to go to the bathroom, others to call extended family to tell them what just happened.
But when his uncle Rowan put his hand on his shoulder, he could only slowly look at the white-haired man with tears streaming down his face as he didn't even emote. He could only think of one thing as he sat there and he remembered asking 'Where's Luke?'. And when Rowan just pursed his lips and rubbed his thumb on David's shoulder slightly, he knew the answer. Luke wasn't there when he needed someone most. He WASN'T there, and he was alone to deal with a dead father. Fuck being a hero, fuck doing anything, fuck being like Luke. FUCK LUCAS CONNOR, he could remember himself thinking. How much he wanted him dead, how much he just wanted to scream at his older black-haired brother, stare into his almost neon blue eyes and tell him to die.
…
David's thin hands reached up to his face as he rubbed his eyes. He could feel the few wet tears on his face he rubbed away at them. He sniffed as he sat there, alone, on a couch frozen in a moment in time. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same as he opened his father's book. The first few pages in his rough drafts with those doodles always got him laughing all those years ago. Now they were just a relic of a past he'd never get back. When he had a family, people who loved him, and a father who was there when he needed him. Now all he was left with was a mother dating a new guy, who he hated with a passion. He was a good guy, but his mother clearly was ready to replace his father too, meaning he was the only one left to care about his father in his mind.
Maybe it would have been for the best to just 'move on' like his mother had told him. Or how she'd yell at him for saying he misses his father. It was no wonder why he stopped talking to her regularly after a year. Then communication practically went radio silent after the next, and he'd only talk to her when he needed to. Then when her dear old boyfriend came into the picture, what little love he thought he had turned into pure malice. Why love someone who just moved on from the people you love? Even if they're dead, doesn't their life still mean something? If he had died instead of his father, would his mother have adopted a new child in his place to fill the void?
The questions David asked himself made him purse his lips as he stared at his book… But… He knew couldn't read it anymore, not like he would be able to focus on it if he wanted to. He put it down as he put his face into his hands and sighed. His tears for his father never seemed to run out even though he stopped them from falling. All he could do was sit there in fucking agony as he always had, sitting in a world with nothing but himself and his damn self-pity. He was a piece of shit, with nothing in his fucking life wasn't here? Then why was Atlas there… Why was he there… Why… IT was making him feel sick as his hands dug into his hair after they moved away from his face. His fucking black hair, that he tried so fucking hard to make real. HE WASN'T…
David sniffed, feeling his breath increase in pace… He grit his teeth… And he took one deep breath…
"WHY DID YOU FUCKING KILL YOUR BROTHER!"
David screamed into the middle of the gigantic room. It echoed, nothing to respond to his question as he sat on that damn red couch. He set the book down, crossing his arms as if he was trying to hug himself as he took a deep breath. The Irish teen fell silent as his bottom lip quivered, too focused on the marble floor of the room as he gently swayed forward and backward. The teen shook slightly, his frustration and his anger at an all-time high. Little did he know, there was one pair of red orbs that stared from the doorway he had entered through.
Those dainty red orbs belonged to the one and only demon boy, or known to the staff, demon girl; En. Her black claws gently gripped the doorway, staring into the room with a confused gaze. But that look of confusion slowly transformed into that of a blank face, a first for her since she always seemed to either be pissed off or smiling like a maniac. One of her hands gripped her oversized white T-shirt, slowly swallowing as she watched the Irish teen sit there. His words made her pointed ears twitch as she stared still.
All she had wanted was a chocolate milk from the fridge and had to duck behind a couch to not be seen but…
"What the hell…" Her voice whispered, different from usual. It was high for a male but distinctly low for a female voice. Her slitted eyes narrowed as her tail swayed, she still held the chocolate milk in her hand she had grabbed. She quietly walked back to her door, constantly looking back before she turned her knob.
She'd have a good amount of blackmail in case she ever needed it…
Sup everyone, hope you're doing well! Sorry for the shorter length since it was more character centric! But I hope you all enjoyed regardless.
Till next time,