Slivers of Time ~/~ Alpha and Crona
divisiblezero
âNever, huh?â Alpha nodded slowly at the boyâs reply, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. He checked the price tag on the clock and looked at the pink-haired youth. âHow much do you have on you? Unless youâve got other things to buy, like groceries or something.â
He smirked a little. âI never thought Iâd get used to it myself-âŠâÂ
He blinked in wide-eyed surprise as the boy went on darkly, his demeanor suddenly seeming to change, sinking into darker thoughts that swallowed him up. The look in the boyâs eyes was jarring to say the least, and at his muttering, Alpha felt the hairâs on the back of his neck prickle. Then his gaze hardened and he steeled himself. Something about the look in those pale eyes seemed almost challenging. It reminded him of theâŠÂ âOi, kid, are you alright? Snap out of it,â he bit out, shoving his own dark memories away. âWhatever it is youâre thinking about, quit it. It wonât do either of us good now.â
He observed the boyâs fixed gaze on the cogs of the clock, even as his hand brushed the hilt of the sword Alpha had seen affixed to his side. âMmm. Learning how to use a sword was certainly easier than this,â he replied, nodding his head toward the red sword leaning against the wall behind him. âA lot less reading involved. But itâs its own process, too.â
Alpha felt his smile turn somewhat awkward as the boy did not return the gesture. âReminds me a little of Beta, if a little more unnerving,â Alpha thought, still forcing a smile. The boy seemed interested nevertheless though, so he forged on. âIt comes with practice and experience, you know?â And many mistakes, the snowglobe would argue. At the boyâs request, Alpha blinked in surprise. He glanced down at the clock, then back as he tried to make sure heâd heard right. âEh? Oh, uhâŠsure. Here,â Alpha stated, reaching forward and handing the screwdriver to him, then mimicking his movements from earlier so he could see. âYouâve gotta flick your wrist quick, like this. And make sure the screwdriver is just under the cog, so if you snap it too hard it wonât get stuck or break.â
As he watched and waited for the boy to try the trick out himself, his eyes gleamed as an idea struck him. âSo, kid. Whatâs your name?â
âI can pay for it. Iâm thinking I should buy it... This is the first store Iâve been to here. Maybe this... can be the first thing that belongs to me.â
Donât push your luck, the voices warned once more. These self-indulgent thoughts are not any solace for you. Can you call anything yours? Do you deserve a possession of your own? Crona wanted to believe there could be just one thing in his life that could belong completely and solely to himself. Perhaps just this simple clock could be the beginning of his life without her influence. If he could have this one object to call his own, could he finally start to grow independent of those memories, of those deprecating thoughts that plagued his every move?
He was spiraling into this train of thought again. This was a familiar feeling, dwindling his resolve day by day, hour by hour, yet despite its familiarity never got easier to bear. Yet he was always alone when these episodes struck in the past. But now the poor store worker was trying to pull him away from this line of thought... Crona gasped, shaking himself out of his stupor. Something in the older manâs voice held an edge of warning, and the swordsman complied, shaking his head a few times.
âY-youâre right, Iâm sorry... Iâll try not to think about it anymore.â So he dropped the subject, though he knew his thoughts would still cascade into darkness every day of his life.
