Thomas Arclight

#littleharuto #thread one #smoking cw

Thomas.

Thomas taps his ashes off the end of his cigarette and crushes it against the brick wall. His voice is light and sweet, as if he'd never once had to scream. Yet Thomas still vividly recalls the sound of his screams. And still, he speaks with such charm that Thomas can't help but crack a lopsided smile. He does like sweets, after all... "Can't say I've had it. Sounds good."

He carefully averts his gaze and focuses his stare on his boots, shoving his hands into his pockets and scuffing the concrete. Smile, huh? Thomas bites down on his thumbnail and casts a glance back at Haruto. It's not as if he's won brownie points since that duel.

"I suppose it would be worth trying. You speak so highly of it." I could use something sweet...

ooc; fresh start?

{I'm trying to start this blog over. I've left two threads as examples.

Hope to see you guys and follow some new blogs soon!}

#ooc; post

It's A Small Crime

inversionofdarkness

"Yes," Kaito smirks. His dripping clothes don’t matter. The wall clock ticks. The storm stays outside. Somewhere farther inside his mind, there is a vein that waits to pop, and now it does - now he relishes in the sense of agony. Agony and cruelty. It’s easier to be cruel. He drips and he still presses close, one hand supported on the table.

"Sign for me…" he says, "with blood on your pretty face. Sign for me how you beg for forgiveness so I can tear it apart, piece for piece…” …and be done with it.

The smirk fades out slowly. Kaito’s chin is lifted high, his expression hard.

He wonders what it is what he sought after. There is nothing to gain in this, huh? Does he want to relish in the pain of his personal vendetta? To inflict the same kind of suffering that drove a wedge into his soul? To pay eye for eye and tooth for tooth? Kaito laughs mentally at that. Yes. No. Maybe. It doesn’t matter. Is he the ‘great hero’ that imposes judgment? Heh, no. Kaito thinks about each face when he sleeps, about the his own desire to draw something -anything- out of estranged, manaced souls and watch them scream… He thinks about ‘justice’, and it’s a joke.

Justice lies within Haruto. Haruto embodies his so-called justice.

Kaito grits his teeth. “What I detest about you is that you look at me like I looked at others,” he hisses, waving up. He drips. The clock ticks on. IV sits there like a lamentable creature and doesn’t move. It unnerves him. Orbital recharges silently in the back of the gas station.. "I hope it hurts," he states as he settles his coffee down, and it is surprisingly gentle. Just for a moment. In illusion. He rubs his eyelids. "I’m over Chris. Hell, I’m over Heartland, too. But I am not over you."

"Don’t ever talk about Haruto again. You have no right to speak his name,” he whispers in a low menacing voice as he leans close. IV. There is something about IV that unnerves Kaito. Beyond the hate of his mocking laughter in face of Haruto’s pain. There is more than that now that he is present. It is more than just the disgust, the deep-lodged hate for someone who has wronged you, seering deeper…he sucks his breath in. Nearly as if there were two damned beings opposite to each other inflicting wounds to themselves instead of to each other.

The result is the same. Kaito smirks and -without warning- he grabs IV by the collar, holding him still in place against the dark wood of the headrest. There is something pulsing. Soon, some blood vessel would be popped. It pulses. Somewhere macabre, he hopes he would. See it flow all out slowly as proof of being alive…of a living condemned being on whose soul punishment can be dealt.

He is numb. Not even cold, and glares. They are stuck in a limbo of hate to each other and the inability to dissolve or let go. "Are you…proud of yourself?! …Let me give you some advice. Don’t ever talk about my brother."

#inversionofdarkness #it's a small crime

"So, have you ever considered this is why you don't have any friends? Your melodramatic, pessimistic, over-analytic sense of flare is dreadful you are boring me to tears." Thomas dabs at his dripping nose and looks up at Kaito dead in the eyes, unafraid of his angry stare. "Here you are acting like you're king shit and telling me off when you have the nerve to hang around my brother?"

Thomas snorts again and takes his napkin away, dipping another clean one in some water to mop at his face.

"So are you going to sit there and demonize me or are you going to sit your fucking ass down and have some of this shitty coffee?"

Thomas smooths the collar of his shirt and sits back with a firm grunt, staring at Kaito with his arms folded. "I'm so sick of you acting so high and mighty, fluttering around your glorified sandbox of a lab with my brother and lecturing me on the holistic practices of not being an asshole."

Thomas doesn't mind the stares from the other few people sitting close by. He's sure they've seen and heard worse thing than this petty argument. He finishes his drink and leans back, ordering two coffees. "So. Want to stop acting like a child and talk like adults?"

[Faulty Connection]

A simple no for the offer would have come in handy but his stomach is a jerk that day and betrays him with a grumble at the mention of food. Brilliant.

Now he can’t refuse but it isn’t that bad if he gives it some thought. Friendship was a word he rarely thought about and which he openly applied to few people — those who’d seen him at his best, at his worst, and still stuck by his side no matter what.

Thomas apparently fills the quota and there is no turning back from wherever they are heading. The moment he sees the smile is when he can’t really be that much of a jerk anymore and falls for smiling himself; it’s discreet and small but it’s there.

"Why not, but I do expect it to be on you." He snickers. "And if you dare take me to some fish restaurant I’m shoving the whole dish down your throat.”

"Yeah, yeah, I'll feed you, jerk." Thomas laughs and gives his arm a gentle cuff. standing with his hands shoved into his pockets. "I know a nice sandwich place," he offers, motioning in the direction down the street, It's good to start somewhere, really. He couldn't undo the past... but maybe he could build a better future with them. ***

"Oh my god this is so good." Thomas wipes his mouth with his napkin and grins at Ryoga, putting down his wrap to take a few fries.

"So, going back into dueling?" he asks. "I've been debating doing another circuit to keep my title. I don't know if I should retire right away. I've been trying to do some travelling..." Thomas shrugs again and leans back. "Though... I'd like to duel you and Rio again some time. You know, without someone dying or getting hurt or cheating."

It's A Small Crime

Thomas doesn't expect to be sitting at a gas station coffee and burger bar at two in the morning, nursing a bruised nose and black eye. He certainly doesn't expect to be eyeing the infamous (former) Numbers Hunter. It might almost be comical if not for the steady drip of blood from his nose onto the laminated placemat with a colourful map of nearby attractions. His head hurts, he's dizzy, and he yet he keeps making eye contact.

Being Thomas, he flashes a grin that nearly makes him pass out. "Friday night fight." It's Tuesday.

He takes a bite of his greasy burger and folds the napkin up under his nose. Thomas wishes he could actually say it was a fight but no. No, fights are when you fight back but Thomas took every hit like it didn’t hurt. It did. His nose is in pain. His jaw stings. But the words of a former victim of his ‘fanservice’ haunt him.

You ruined everything.

Maybe he had. Maybe he was far too much of a bastard to ever be redeemed. The stones in the colosseum still stand to remind him that his choices were still his own. He was the reason duelists had put down their decks.

Thomas shakes his head to clear it and chews on a handful of fries. God, this food is gross. The coffee is terrible and he doesn’t even like coffee to begin with. Still, seeing Kaito here is rather entertaining. If memory serves him well, they haven’t seen one another since Kaito’s duel against Heartland. He’d been told Kaito died on the moon. Bummer. Must have blown big time.

(His own death still scares him. The emptiness. Is Kaito the same?)

“You going to keep staring or should I autograph a picture for you?” Good god, his head is throbbing, a distinct ringing in his ears reminding him that he really should put his head down and clean his nose up (he thinks it’s stopped dripping but he doesn’t want to pull the napkin away). Maybe hostility is a bad approach. In all fairness, their last conversation was when Thomas laughed at Kaito’s agony of seeing his brother tortured. The smile drops. A cold, rotting knot coils in his stomach and boils with loathing for his own actions.

“Sorry,” he slurs out. Well that’s not really an apology. No expansion. “Sorry for…” Thomas waves his free hand in a vague gesture and drops it to the last piece of his burger which he pops in his mouth. “For the whole brother. Incident.” Thomas recognizes the two fatal mistakes he’s made. One: Haruto is always going to be a forbidden topic, isn’t he? Two: this is Kaito and Thomas doesn't know him for his cheery disposition and forgiving nature.

Well, no. Thomas doesn’t know fuck all about Kaito, only that he was fairly certain his own brother loved him more than his own family, and that Kaito took V away from him to some degree. Yet on the flip side of things, it wasn’t as if he’d bothered to talk to his brother recently so. So. Whatever. Whatever it was those two got up to while he was dragged through the foster system meant nothing to him. There was no forgiveness, and there was no way to forget.

“Why the fuck are you here?” Hostility is easier, anyway.

#inversionofdarkness

[Faulty Connection]

Rio. Ryouga isn’t going to lie and pretend he’s not happy Thomas cares about his sister, at least on the inside. It’s something he’s been aware of for long, since they dueled during the WDC back in the times when Thomas was nothing more for him than another enemy. Another obstacle in his way to obtaining what was rightfully his. Happiness.

With time, their relationship evolved into something else; friendship, many would say, but it didn’t convince Ryouga. Friends didn’t hurt each other that way, did they? And it wasn’t even willing. No matter where destiny lead them they’d always end up like that, causing harm even if there was a desperate lean towards the other extreme.

No, they aren’t friends, never were. That’s not exactly a bad thing though — they might not be there yet, but they’re on the way. They’re making progress, in spite of it being slower than trying to go back home on a discount day at Target.

Ryouga leans backwards into the bench, hoping that it isn’t freshly painted or something. If it is they’re sharing the shame. Five minutes pass before he feels he’s somewhat ready to reply.

"Rio’s doing well. Keeping an eye on everyone, especially on Vector since he’s problematic and—" He gets cut off by the second set of words. And then he finds no way to continue because there’s tears asking to come out from the bottom of his heart.

He’s forgiven. The words pierce through him and it hurts, dammit, but he never thought pain would make him so happy. He has to think of some reply before Thomas starts staring, or worse, Ryouga bursts out crying (he’s not).

"Think I kept you waiting too long? Because I have a feeling that this is hell itself." isn’t hell the place where you never get to say "I’m sorry"? And ironically the place where forgiveness is given more than in heaven.

Thomas pinches the filter between his fingers and closes his eyes, sitting with his elbows on his knees and his hands cupped around his mouth, as if he's trying to make sure no words escape until he's sure they're the right ones. Rio's okay. The Barians are, too. And Ryoga? Ryoga is here stubborn as ever, and Thomas expects nothing less.

"I want to be friends. When we dueled together, both times... even when you were trying to kill me, I understood that bonds are powerful. You and me are.. we're on a collision course, always have been. But for once I'd like to be in orbit, you know?" Thomas snorts. "I sound like me brother, god... But what I mean is to say that I want us to stop looking for hell." (Hell is pretending I don't give a damn about you.)

"I hear this whole friend thing is kind of cool. Maybe we could give it the good old college go, you know?" He un-clips his deck box and flips through the cards, smiling to himself. It's a secret smile, reserved for... well, for Ryoga. For a... friend. "I could use lunch. Want to grab something with me?"

[Faulty Connection]

Ryouga sits at his side. He’s unable to look at Thomas’s face no matter how much he wants to, because it hurts. It holds the scar got from trying to save Rio’s life — and the eyes of the man he killed and saw join the energy that made up the Barian world.

No strength to retort either. He is cranky, so much that it’s past being a joke and he’s not going to give Thomas the pleasure of seeing he’s right.

There’s a lot to talk about and at the same time nothing to say. Which of them is there to apologize? Ryouga, Thomas, both or maybe none? Sorry was no longer a meaningful word, like Thomas himself had said (and in Ryouga’s mind, it never was).

Sad, isn’t it. That they’re taking so much time to get comfortable, to open up, to—

Laughter is stopped a second before it erupts. Three questions trying not to mess up, three questions to be awkward and unfitting; somehow, the best way to start.

"You’re an idiot," Ryouga shakes his head, and so am I. “School’s boring, Yuuma hasn’t changed one bit and yeah, Barians sure are a thing.”

A relaxed reply, but they had to start somewhere. If entering their old goofs and bickers was the way to, who was Ryouga to deny it?

"How long have you been smoking? You sound like an old man. Though go on doing it, it fits your attitude."

Thomas's mouth corners turn upward and he laughs. It's quiet, but has a pleasant rasp to it that always came with his voice. "Old man, huh? Taking cracks at me already." Ryoga calls him an idiot and Thomas rolls his shoulders back, leaning on the bench rails and finally glancing in his direction. "I've been smoking on and off since I was about fourteen. Don't tell me adoring fans, they might think it's cool and edgy."

Thomas's tongue darts over his lower lip and he leans forward on his knees, hands clasped between his knees while he watches his rival. Former rival. His... friend. At one time. Hadn't they been friends when they shared that tag duel? When Thomas wanted to remind Nasch of his bonds?

"We don't talk." The obvious. "Is Rio okay?" He doesn't know if Rio is safe territory or not, but he needs to start somewhere. He has to... find his footing, so to speak. It's been hard looking for a means to say 'look there's some stuff going on and we should talk about it'.

"Sorry doesn't mean anything between us. I'm not looking for forgiveness today. I wanted to tell you that I..." Thomas waves his hand in a vague motion. "I forgive you."

(I never did see you in Hell.)

[Faulty Connection]

Ryouga has always prided himself in being able to understand people. He read them in their actions, their words, and made his mental image of their true intentions and beings. He doesn’t go and read others on purpose — it’s something that has become a natural thing in him, almost automatic.

It doesn’t work on everyone, to his dislike. There are certain individuals, like that guy, who he is unable to read. It has never worked, no matter how much he squints and tries. IV makes no sense to him.

He’s seen him around several times lately; the mall, the park, even lurking around school at day time or in the evening when all the students make their way home. He suspects what it is all about, but suspicion has nothing to the truth for him. It’s empty and dull (just how he feels whenever he sees IV practically run away from him when he shows slight interest in conversation).

That’s not something he is going to tell anyone, but it does hurt. Sometimes he stops and thinks now we’re even — that’s an idiocy. They’re not even, what IV has done is nothing compared to Ryouga’s wrongs. He’s not able to resent him anymore, at least not half as much as he used to.

It’s normal that the you harmed my sister and tried to break me as well feeling is still there; he’s but human (oh, how dumb that is too. He knows more than well that he’s not). That does not mean he weights IV on it anymore. Now it just…adds to their odd relationship. Hard to call it that when they’re not interacting in the slightest.

The idea to be the first one to talk has crossed his mind more than once — good luck getting him anywhere close to stepping over his pride and making the first move. No way Jose. Out of the question, openly because he was too much of a dick to go apologize, and deep inside because he is afraid of rejection.

He’s home when the text message arrives, stuck at an Ocarina of Time temple. It makes him slightly happy to read those words, hell, he doesn’t have to initiate anything. The moment it sinks in is when anxiety strikes; it doesn’t sound hostile, but not friendly either, so anything could happen.

Ryouga refrains from replying to the text. It won bring anything, and all that is to be said will be done in person.

The park is empty when he gets there. It’s as if the stars have aligned to let them be alone, no nosy brats running around or footballs hitting the back of his head every three seconds like it does every time he takes a single step in that place.

He checks his phone. Two minutes past twelve, not too late but not spot on time either. Perfect. That way he doesn’t seem nor desperate nor disinterested.

He spots IV on a bench and a single word crosses Ryouga’s mind — sad. Not exactly sure if IV is sad or just his appearance gives him that vibe.

No turning back at that point. All or nothing.

"IV." No, that doesn’t feel right. Ryouga corrects his words a second later. "…Thomas." It is only decent of him to use that name, the same way Thomas had stuck to Ryouga so fiercely during their duel. A part of him screams that it’s the Arclight who needs a grip on reality now.

"Did you know that Canadians say 'sorry' so often that it's no longer admissible in court as an admission of guilt?" Thomas sighs deeply and doesn't look up, his eyes fixed on a beetle crawling over peddles near his feet. He thinks about crushing it, lifts the toes to do so... but then he stops and plants his feet. Thomas fishes around inside his jeans pocket for his crumpled pack of cigarettes, lighting one and leaning back on the bench. "Don't ever smoke. It's a terrible habit." He pulls on it, exhaling though his nose and smirking to himself. "Just god awful. Tastes bad, too. Makes you cranky. Not that you need it." The jab is weak. It sounds pathetic even from Thomas, that odd look of malice and respect and friendship nowhere to be found in his eyes.

He sighs. "Sit down and shut up for a sec even you want to say something. I'm not good at talking when I'm not flashing by bravado around so give me a minute." It's inconsiderate of him to light a smoke but it helps his nerves. Still, Thomas mutters and apology and lightly snuffs out the top so he can save it, tucking it behind his ear. He opens his mouth to speak but anything he thinks he can say falls flat and he's left staring with a slack jaw until he stammers out,

"So. How's school?" Fuck. "How's Yuma?" Worse. "Barians, huh?" Sure.