Note:
This is set roughly two to three years after the events of Fever 2, assumes that most of the games are canon and the characterization tries to be closer to the Japanese stuff. This is especially obvious with Sig, whose manner of speaking is... different.
I apologize in advance for some really, really odd word choices. Somnolist isn't in the dictionary, but...
Collaboration. Working with others. Pairs assignment.
It just had to be, hadn't it? It would've been simpler alone. Hell, he'd probably at least have an outline done by now. Sure, the properties of botany in magic wasn't his expertise, so he'd have no expectation of being done in an hour. If it were astronomy in magic...
Klug thumbed through the index of his current volume, perched as it was on three further tomes. Researching in the library was convenient, if distracting. He'd already found a few unrelated texts that he'd shoved off to the side, squirreling them away to digest in his leisure.
... Well, that assumed he'd even have leisure time. Klug had been consciously avoiding glancing across the vast, book-littered expanse of a table. Every time he considered it, he figured he'd be better off not knowing how far behind his partner was.
It wasn't that Sig was stupid, but Sig was, well, Sig. Distractable under the best circumstances, unreachable under the worst. This day didn't seem to be the greatest one. The books on the boy's side of the table rested blissfully untouched. Unopened. For. An. Hour.
All the bug catcher had to show for the time was a few crude sketches, insects of some kind of another. Considering they were drawn with Sig's over-large crimson left hand, that they were recognizable was a small miracle. Head propped up on his normal right hand, the entomophile just kept deliberately putting pencil to paper.
Klug needlessly adjusted his glasses. There was something odd about the way his so-called partner stared down at the sheet with his mismatched eyes. An intensity dwelled that was normally absent. It was... unnerving.
"Sig," Klug intoned with a feigned sense of calm, "something's bothering you. We've been here for over an hour and your pages are still blank apart from those doodles."
"Oh," the wanna-be entomologist straightened in his seat, exhaling a breath he hadn't been aware of holding in. He mumbled noncommittally, slumping back before apologizing in his usual dull monotone.
Or was it? Klug couldn't be sure if he was just projecting or if there was genuine tension there. Shifting and adjusting his glasses for a second time, he lifted an eyebrow. "I've never seen you this distracted. You're stressed about something."
Sig's hair-tenne twitched. Even if his impassive expression rarely changed, that tic betrayed his thoughts. Happiness, disappointment, anything outside of his normal routine elicited some type of movement. Though he was already sagging in his chair, somehow Sig managed to sink down further.
A thought occurred to the bespectacled one. Observations were one of his fortes but sometimes they were... unwelcome. He became suddenly defensive, straightening and clearing his throat. "E-everyone deals with stress differently, you know. Raffina trains more aggressively than normal, Amitie becomes more outwardly cheerful, Taru Taru clams up entirely..."
"You?"
"Me? I... I find somewhere quiet and read. Or double-check my work... sometimes triple." The academic knew it sounded cliche, but it was what it was. "I need something to keep me busy."
A slow blink, and the faintest hint of a smile. "Quadruple?" Sig held the 'a' longer than necessary. It would've been charming if it wasn't so infuriating to his target.
Klug stiffened his upper lip, his cheeks flushing from the question. It was true. Of course it was. To admit it, though... "tch! Yes, yes, but almost never! Rarely! But that's not the point! I wanted to know why you're stressed."
One blue and one red eye barely peeked over the table's edge. How is it possible to slump that much and not slip from your seat?
"Dunno."
Klug tried to contain his exasperation, steepling his fingers and resting his forehead against them. Stay calm, eventually all the non-answers will yield something useful, he thought. Something to work with. Statistically speaking it had to.
"That's obviously not true. Look," hissed Klug, "let's try something else. Is it school related?"
A shake of the head. Issues with friends? Nada. Problems at home? A slight hesitation to think, then negatory. Now all that was visible of Sig was his hair.
"Is it me?"
"No."
This was going nowhere. Fingers drumming against wood, Klug gave up. "Come back up, I'll stop asking. There's no point to sitting on the floor."
Eight digits clung to the edge as the Doodlebug pulled himself up from the carpeted library floor. Four fingertips, perfectly normal, but the other four... no. It was too obvious. Besides, Sig always said it was fine. He was used to it. He was...
"It's the arm, isn't it?"
Twitch. The mismatched hands disappeared as their owner once again retreated.
Bingo. Sort of. The cause was known, but what to do about it was another thing entirely. Scanning his surroundings to ensure no witnesses were present, Klug scooted off of his chair and sat down cross-legged on the floor beneath the table. There was no way he'd risk raising his voice in the museum library. He'd rather throw his sense of pride under the metaphorical carriage than chance a reprimand, or, stars forbid, a ban. Just the prospect brought him out in a cold sweat…
Arms wrapped around his knees, Sig barely glanced in Klug's direction. He didn't seem too put out by having his refuge invaded. "You okay? You're all pink."
Klug blinked, roused from his reverie of doom. It was impossible to verify but he trusted his classmate's appraisal was genuine. His general lack of color made any degree flushing incredibly obvious, much to his chagrin.
"I'm perfectly fine. Sitting on the floors of libraries is one of my all-time favorite activities," he mumbled, adjusting his cravat. Subtext tended to be lost on Sig. Attempting to let go of his annoyance, the bibliophile tried to resume his original line of questioning.
"The arm, does it feel 'weird' again?" It was a legitimate enough query, it was fairly common knowledge that the blue-haired boy's odd arm acted up intermittently. Sometimes it was a mild to total loss of sensation, other times it seized and became all but useless. The pity of it was, the poor guy was left-handed.
"No." A simple, flat denial. Sig's already half-lidded eyes narrowed. While little of his eyes were visible from behind his folded knees, their look was unmistakable. Don't want to talk about it, stop asking and leave me alone.
He felt… uncomfortable. Normally Klug wouldn't have pushed even this far. Any confrontation he wasn't confident of winning wasn't worth having. This felt far from an assured victory. He didn't want to do this. It'd be easier just to do all the work himself. Simpler. Maybe not fair, but…
…No.
That wouldn't solve anything. It was a pairs assignment. By design, it was meant to encourage cooperation. Failing that aspect, everything else was pointless. Getting through to this living cabbage was part of, nay, it was the challenge.
"Ignoring the problem isn't going to solve anything. You can't ignore me, either," the bookworm crossed his arms, exuding way more confidence than he actually felt, "keeping it bottled up won't hel-"
"Fine," Sig abruptly cut in, a slight quaver in his voice, "just… scared."
Silence. The academic's mouth had simply stopped moving mid-syllable. Fish-like, it hung open as its owner mentally scrambled to make sense of those three little words. He stared without meaning to.
Sig shrunk down further, burying his face in his arms. This kind of reaction was why he didn't want to say anything. Now everything was awkward. The points of his clawed left hand poked into his right arm as he tried to curl into an even tighter ball. Any discomfort or pain was irrelevant.
Klug panicked. He never anticipated that kind of meltdown. Calming other people down had never been a skill he possessed, how the heck was he supposed to deal with someone that he upset? Stars above, how can I fix this?! He screamed inside, floundering for a solution he just didn't have.
Where the thought of scooting alongside the pitiable cyan-topped ball came from, he wasn't sure. Probably some half-forgotten childhood memory from a time when his parents were usually around. When he was hurt, when he was scared, a hug or a pat on the back had gone a long way. Hugging Sig was out of the question, but… well…
Hesitantly, as though his classmate would shatter like glass if he were careless, Klug reached out. It took a few seconds for a palm's weight to register with the bug boy, eliciting that peculiar tuft of blue hair to twitch. Otherwise, nothing happened.
Clearing his throat, he of the purple cap scrambled for the 'right' words. "I'm… sorry. This is my fault for being pushy."
The sound of his own voice made him cringe. That was the best he could do? How many hours had he spent absorbed in dictionaries or a good thesaurus? However sincere, the triteness appalled him. It sounded so cliche.
Movement. One blue eye peaked out from the protective cocoon Sig had wrapped himself in. "Really?"
Was it a question or an accusation? Question, Klug settled on. Anything else would risk escalation. It was the last thing he wanted right now.
"Really," he nodded in confirmation, hand still resting on the other boy's shoulder, "would it be alright, well, what I mean is... what's wrong with it?"
"... Want to know?"
"O-only if it's okay, you're okay, I mean-" He broke into impotent stammering, not wanting to make Sig more uncomfortable, but his curiosity threatened to kill him if he didn't at least try to find out.
Gradually, Sig unwrapped himself from his compressed state, murmuring something as he stretched out his arms and legs. He seemed back to his casual self, apart from the furrowed brow.
"Fine, here." Sig's left hand tugged at his shirt collar, stretching the material a bit. It didn't expose much, but it was hopefully enough to get his point across.
Klug frowned, not entirely sure what he was supposed to be seeing. Most of the skin looked perfectly normal, as far as he knew. All that really stood out was the border where the left arm joined the torso. The rough-looking reddish dermis would look out of place on anyone else, but this was Sig. Wasn't it always that way?
"Well?" Sig's head tilted expectantly. He definitely wanted an opinion on something. A minute passed. Two. No response came. Letting go of the shirt's collar and smoothing the fabric back down, Sig continued to stare patiently at his silent green-eyed classmate.
"It looks... normal? I don't have a point of comparison." Come to think of it, he could only recall seeing Sig in short or long-sleeves, never anything less.
"Oh. Guess that's true," the bug catcher sighed, leaning into the hand which still remained on his shoulder, "sorry."
Stars. Stars, he'd forgotten his hand was there. He couldn't just take it back now. Better to let his friend rest against it, especially since Klug felt less than helpful right now. They were friends, right? Kind of? He didn't care for the silly nicknames, but...
Something closed over his hand. Something warm, rough, and red. The grip was firmly insistent. If Klug tried to retreat he'd risk being scratched. Two eyes stared at him from behind carelessly swept bangs.
"Can't tell anybody, okay? Promise."
Since the matter had something to do with the mismatched arm, Klug nodded in agreement. It could probably be kept in confidence. He'd seen no sign of injuries on Sig's chest, self-inflicted or otherwise, so he felt safe in his decision. "Promise. It won't go beyond me."
The sense of relief was instantaneous and palpable. Whether it would last, none could say. The grip on Klug's hand remained, but loosened considerably.
Inhaling deeply, Sig rapidly rattled off his consternating thoughts. "Worried that the red stuff is spreading, getting worse. One hand's fine, can get by with just one. Both, though," he shook his head, a small whine escaping his throat, "scared. I don't want that."
That certainly caught Klug's attention. Sig almost never referred to himself directly. 'Me', sometimes, but an 'I' was exceedingly rare. He felt a peculiar weight against his body as his classmate sagged against him, staring despondently into the middle distance.
"You've tried asking Professor Accord about it?"
The set of hair-tenne twitched as their owner mumbled, "last time she said to use the other hand."
"Lemres?"
"Didn't know anything." At least that's what the Comet Warlock claimed, but the truth was a mystery.
If Klug hadn't considered assisting his classmate before, that would have done it. An opportunity to surpass his idol didn't come along every day. Figuring out something that stymied even Lemres couldn't wasn't his goal, but it would be icing on the cake.
"... Kinda dumb, huh? Shouldn't worry about it, but can't help-"
The sentence was cut off before completion. Stella lucet, if this wasn't the appropriate time to hug a distressed peer, a friend, Klug didn't think there would ever be one. He didn't exactly have the best angle, but he managed to get his arms around Sig's chest. While it looked similar to picking up a particularly stubborn cat, it felt... necessary. "Sig, it's not dumb. Not even a little."
Sig heard, but didn't reply. This embrace hadn't been anticipated and he wasn't quite sure what to make of it. Yes, he'd been leaning into Klug for support. He'd been hugged before, mostly by Amitie, but that was her normal. Nice, but common. This was different. For now, in this time of uncertainty, it felt okay just to accept it.
The novice dark mage was so, so relieved that Sig hadn't yet tried to squirm free. It would've been incredibly awkward. It would mean he'd completely failed to read and respond to the situation. Maybe it was time to let go. Probably. Definitely. He cautiously made to remove his arms.
"Don't," The bug catcher curled his fist around a sleeve of the dress shirt, then quietly added, "um, please?"
Both Klug's body and mind instantly froze. What am I doing?! He inwardly screeched. And why am I so tense?! It took all of his concentration just to meekly stammer out, "um, o-okay."
"Yay," the low-key voice was at odds with the small but genuine smile that graced Sig's face. He looked so innocent, happily oblivious to his classmate's internal meltdown. "Huh... you smell like soap."
It was an accurate observation but that couldn't keep Klug's cheeks from flushing crimson, his lips drawn into a perfect horizontal line. However unorthodox, it was a compliment and it was 100% true... right? He remained silent, second-guessing himself. Not everyone liked the same kind of soap, or for that matter-
The indecision worked out fine for Sig, it provided more time for him to relax. Anxiety over the arm situation had been steadily building for... awhile. Ignoring it only worked for so long. Being forced into a corner and made to acknowledge those worries he'd tried to push away hurt. It validated them. Made them real. Sharing them didn't fix anything, but it did help. Kind of.
"T-thanks?" It had taken time to process, but the celestial mage had finally decided the innocuous comment was a positive one. Nailing down the cause of his nervousness remained elusive. He cleared his throat, trying to sound less like a scared hamster, "feel a little better now? I mean, I hope so, not that it's a requirement, or, or..." it devolved into quiet, shaky laughter.
"Mmm," a nod. Sig seemed satisfied enough, wiggling free of the stiff arms that bolstered him. He'd regained his customary sense of mellow calm. Stretching his arms a little, he finally noticed his friend's... new color. Head cocked like a curious dog, he asked, "um, you okay? You're kinda red."
"I'm f-fine. It's warm in here. A little overheated. That must be it. Yes, that's it!" It almost sounded believable
"Akuma-HEM," a third party interjected, "is there a problem with the seating provided?"
Enter Akuma, resident librarian, historian and probably the most polite demon inhabiting a levitating navy-blue plush bear one could ever hope to meet apart from the odd growling fit. That usually occurred before friendly matches of puyo puyo. It was the sort of thing everyone just seemed to accept.
Sig shook his head, "nah, was looking for something. Glasses was helping." He glanced sidelong at his somewhat dazed companion and sheepishly mumbled, "didn't mean to cause trouble."
The floating bear-doll adjusted his unnecessary monocle and nodded. Whether he believed the statement or not, he seemed to accept it. "Unfortunate. Did you two manage to recover the item 'ma?"
"Yup. It's fine now." The young man smiled brightly, though his sleepy-looking eyes failed to change. He scooted out from under the table, taking his time in getting to his feet. Balancing with the odd are wasn't entirely effortless. His legs being half-asleep didn't help.
It was only then that Sig saw the assortment of texts strewn about the table and remembered what they were for. "Oh. Mister Akuma, it's okay to borrow these?"
Sifting through the pile of books, 'Mister' Akuma didn't see a problem with loaning a few out with one exception. "Hmm. I am aware of the assignment tasked to you students, 'ma. This one may be required for others..."
"Oh."
"However, it is rather late in the day. I will allow it on the condition you surrender it tomorrow if there is a need for it, kuma-ma. Which of you intend to possess this volume?" The head libearian started checking out the other tomes while he spoke.
"Bookworm." Not knowing where to put what, Sig started randomly packing his satchel. He'd still be stuck carrying a few by hand, but he didn't mind.
In the interim, the 'bookworm' had extricated himself and now stood upon shaky legs. Klug removed his glasses and wearily rubbed his eyes, then cringed as he witnessed Sig's cramming 'technique'. He mumbled something quietly and worked quickly to load his own bag, vowing to save as many books as possible from such an ignoble fate.