Hello, it is I, once again ranting about my culture and ethnicity. Reasons why I want to write this is I want to brag about the diversity of Indonesian culture. We have, perhaps, hundreds of ethnic cultures living in one nation, and it's fun to breakdown a person's ethnicity just to see how diverse a person could be. However, I will only talk about mine because I am more versed in my own bloodline.
From my mom:
Grandma: Palembang, breaks down again to Malay and Chinese because in the era where Srivijaya kingdom exists, the kingdom had a relationship with the Chinese empire of that time.
Grandpa: A mix of Arab and Javanese (I don't know the specifics, he sadly passed away years ago)
From my dad, who is biracial:
Batak or Menado (Indonesian ethnic group)
Dutch-German, and apparently Jewish too from my great great grandpa
Also, aside from that, Indonesia also recognize or experienced other ethnic group culture too.
Although I am ethnically Palembang, I grew up in Jakarta, a pre-dominant Betawi ethnic group area. And a lot of other Javanese ethnic groups culture too. And I currently live in an area dominated by Chinese descent haha. So, a lot of things that I cross by here!
So, yeah, I guess that's all I have to say ehehehe
Thank you for putting up with my drabbles again, haha
My intention isn’t to BOSS people around. But people who don’t create on tumblr really have to understand that if creators stop posting here, you won’t have anything else to like but maybe memes. If you want content to circle around to your dashboard... you have to pay it forward and reblog. That is why this website is dying. The Ban is not the only reason.
And its like.... people dont even fucking realize how special tumblr is
Tumblr doesn’t have verified checkmarks. Tumblr doesn’t have an algorithm to you show ❝The Best Stuff❞. Tumblr doesn’t display how many followers you have. Tumblr isn’t obsessed with subscriptions.
Tumblr is an even playing field compared to websites like Twitter, Instagram, and Youtube. Which means its up to us, the users, to spread the word of people we enjoy-- the way the internet should be.
I’m not asking you to reblog shit you don’t like. I’m not asking you to reblog everything out of pity. But when you see a post you genuinely like, reblog it.
I think so many people mistake the ‘you should reblog’ message with ‘I’m greedy and all I want is notes’ when it’s really not at all like that.
When creators say they’re discouraged from creating because their posts get no notes, they don’t mean they will refuse to create unless their last edit reaches at least 1k notes. What they mean is that the effort they’re putting into creating something purely out of inspiration and the need to share their passion and creativity with the world is being consumed and forgotten, just like it is on Instagram. Tumblr has changed from having an even reblog-like ratio, or even twice as many reblogs as likes, to being another social media where users consume content instead of sharing it.
We’re not trying to force you to reblog everything or want you to fill your blog with things you don’t like. But Tumblr is built on reblogs and likes. This is not a fast-food company where you can order something, consume it, and then throw it away. The very base of this website is sharing, as opposed to Instagram. Here, likes don’t give our posts exposure, reblogs do.
Notes are not the problem, the fact that you want new content without supporting creators is. So yeah, don’t be surprised if creators stop creating because nobody wants to share their creations.
I know probably hardly any of my followers have DeviantArt rn, but money’s tight right now in my house since my dad isn’t really working at the moment, and I’d like to get some gifts for my friends for Christmas.
Art Examples can be found on my art blog @timeforestproductions and writing examples can be found on @penitence-writings
Other Art examples can be found on my deviantart and my commissions post on Amino.
DM me if interested!
Writing coms are 10 points for every paragraph, 50 points for 100 paragraphs, and 100 for 200 paras!
I know probably hardly any of my followers have DeviantArt rn, but money’s tight right now in my house since my dad isn’t really working at the moment, and I’d like to get some gifts for my friends for Christmas.
Art Examples can be found on my art blog @timeforestproductions and writing examples can be found on @penitence-writings
Other Art examples can be found on my deviantart and my commissions post on Amino.
DM me if interested!
Writing coms are 10 points for every paragraph, 50 points for 100 paragraphs, and 100 for 200 paras!
After hours of him lying there and thinking useless thoughts that plagued him daily and nightly, he gave in.
This was a nightly deal, Rilon wouldn't be able to sleep for the longest time due to either Hyde nagging or his thoughts coming to haunt him.
Guilt, the fear of tomorrow, the hate for many individuals. A few that Hyde particularly had in mind. Three, a few mere kids in Rilon's mind. Teenagers that were now adults, with changed lives and personalities.
But that doesn't erase what they've done in the past.
Hyde knew he wasn't a just man or a good man. But he didn't care for morality, he cared about satisfaction for himself.
At first, it was a simple test. What was one life out of so many worldwide? Nothing. No one will remember in a thousand years. Then, the tests started to bore him.
No use caring for any of the statistics. For Edward. . . it was almost delightful. The thrill of a chase, knowing you're breaking multiple laws at once and not getting caught, the rush of adrenaline given when you do the complete the kill.
But, that all went away in a short span. Hyde learned to crave it more and more, and it became a sort of game. One that Rilon certainly didn't appreciate.
Many people had been hurt in Hyde's wake. Including his counterpart, the president's son himself. The ex-president, now — he's long dead.
Lear was one of Hyde's earlier kills, and it was after that day that the whole ordeal had become a personal game. Rilon and Asiah had lost their father years after they had lost their mother and under the same circumstances.
Murder.
The president wasn't purely a victim, not entirely. The things the man had done, to so many people — to kin. Hyde had been sloppy with Lear, but that had cost him. He didn't get much cleaner with recent times, but Lear being removed was necessary for Rilon.
No one liked him anyway, not even Rilon, as much as he liked to decry at Hyde for doing such deeds. Hyde killed Lear for Rilon, whether Rilon believed it or not. A lot of things were done for him, but yet he still refused to take Hyde's word for it.
Rilon thought things that Hyde was willing to put into action. Rilon put those thoughts into the back of his mind, not wanting to believe that he would think such sick things. Hyde found them and acted upon them. He acted upon his wants, too.
Hyde wasn't his counter, not for one moment was he ever Rilon. He's his being, his mind. Simply sharing a body with someone who didn't want to accept that fact. Rilon despised Hyde, that was no secret, but Hyde wanted more than what he was given, and he was given so little. Rilon prevented that like a dog would guard his bone. But, every dog had to rest sometime, didn't they?
Now, it was only right that Rilon would try his best to keep Hyde from taking more lives. He tried, but sleep was like a chronic illness. You can't go long before going back to it.
Just like tonight. Rilon tried to keep awake for as long as possible, but couldn't. Now, Hyde could peacefully and more or less painlessly come out.
Hyde stood from the messy bed of tossed blankets and indented pillows. He stretched, finding the feeling of a physical form rather than speaking absently in the mindspace pleasuring.
The man changed from his nightgown into average day clothes. A gown wasn't something Hyde would prefer to go out into town in, even if it's the dead of night.
Then Hyde remembered, bare hands is never a good tactic for more than one person. Too much time is wasted on each, and with two other residents- Hyde would be at the risk of being caught.
Something personal to complete the kill, but not dull. Out of the corner of his eye, Hyde spotted it.
The mirror that was broken due to Rilon's own emotions, shattered pieces were cleaned up, but the fragmented mirror was still in the room and a single shard was kept in Rilon's drawer.
Hyde walked into the living area, fumbling through a few drawers before finding the right one. There it stood, showing a broken reflection of Hyde, almost mocking him as he stared at himself through it.
He gripped it and shut the drawer silently, only sparing another second to look at the emotionless half-faced self-portrait.
He paid no mind to the pain of the new weapon, and instead looked ahead to the mission. It was off-putting how well the shard fit into his hand but at a cost of his blood.
Hyde clenched the glass tighter, knowing he'd have to pick little bits of glass out of his palms later, but he left the matter for now.
The pain was almost a relief to him.
Hyde walked out of Rilon's room hurriedly after catching a glimpse of the time.
Almost two a.m. Rilon stayed strong for quite some time tonight.
The house that seemed inches away from the window of the tenth floor was quite farther than a few blocks. Nothing extreme, but Hyde made it a point to walk faster down the streets.
Finally, after some minutes, Hyde reached his destination. A mocking house up a little hill that towered over the rest on the block.
Rich defined the people that lived there. Hyde wanted something more to do than sit around all day in Rilon's head, being forced to sit dormant while Rilon took most of the control.
Soon, though, Hyde would get the majority of the spotlight. The people who lived in this home were no doubt privileged middle-aged stuck-ups who controlled some amount of land or were too used to having everything made for them.
Tonight they're going to fend for themselves.
Hyde sneered at the thought. Their actions were going to bite them back and bite back hard. His grip tightened on the shard, and the euphoria came and left him within a split second, leaving him high.
He moved in.
Somehow, as Hyde searched for a way in, he got the sneaking sense that he wasn't alone. He nearly froze as another figure neared the house. From the way they snuck around, he could tell that the person was not of this residence.
His breath caught. He knew who it was recognizing the mannerisms even if he could not see them.
When the figure's face was illuminated by a small, lit match, their identity was confirmed. Hyde could see the near joy that flashed in the figure's bright golden eyes, golden as the small flame he brandished.
It was unmistakable.
"Alva."
He hadn't expected him here. He wasn't supposed to be here.
How did he know I was here?
"You bitch." The words came out a little too loudly. Alva flinched, dropping the lit match to the ground. He trampled it under his boot before the flame could get anywhere.
It was too late to hide - Alva had already seen him.
They stared at each other for some moments before any of them spoke. The one who broke the silence was Alva.
"Edward?"
Hyde was cautious as he inched toward the man. His face twisted into a snarl. "I thought you said we were done, Alva."
"I didn't know you'd be here." Alva lit another match and illuminated his face. He was not amused, either.
A smirk then lit up his face. "What an amazing coincidence." He said. "You show up on the same night that-"
Someone was coming. Hyde grabbed Alva by the hand and dragged him into a bush lining one side of the house.
He held his breath as the footsteps stopped just before their hiding place. Any wrong move - any move for that matter - could get them caught. They'd be thrown into prison - or worse, Institution. Hyde hated Institution, even worse going there. He couldn't get caught — Rilon would never see his brother again.
The footsteps retreated away to another spot around the house, and Hyde audibly gasped.
At least they were safe... For now at least.
"You said you wanted nothing to do with me," Alva held up the hand Hyde had grabbed, and also the hand that he still held. "But yet, you seem too attached to let go."
Hyde's face briefly flushed with heat, but he looked away and yanked his hand out of Alva's grip with an almost inhuman snarl. So this was how Alva was going to play.
Two could play at that game.
"Stay out of my way." He said, pushing Alva out of his reach and cautiously walking out of the bush. Fortunately, the person had gone. All he needed now was to find his way inside.
This house was too big. Although that would usually prove an advantage for such a person as Hyde himself, it gave him a sense of overwhelming insignificance.
No. He couldn't let that get in his way. Too much of a clouded mind would obscure his concentration on his task.
Damn it. Just get inside, Edward.
Thankfully, sometime later, he had found a small door, which he figured led to a cellar of some sort. It took some prying open, but he eventually got it open and slipped inside.
The cellar was surprisingly nicer than he had expected. Usually, cellars were dark and damp and musty, not adorned with such… niceties.
The chandelier, the whitewashed walls, even a few old photos hung up on the walls. He noted a wine cellar, marked with a sign. If the house wasn't going to be set ablaze, Hyde would have chosen to visit it later.
Hyde avoided looking at the photos. They all too painfully reminded him of how fake he was, only a fracture of Rilon's broken mind. This was a life he never would have.
Soon, it would all go up in flames.
Hyde glanced back subconsciously, aware that Alva had followed his advice and was now in his part of the house. Soon enough, the place would be ablaze. Hyde needed to get his task done first before Alva could complete his own.
Out of the cellar, no noise came. The hallway was clear, Hyde stepped out and crawled into an even grander hall. It wasn't lit, but Hyde knew that the faint designs illuminated by his small light were extravagant and certainly undeserved for such people.
Hyde scowled at the portraits on the wall. They were obsessed with looking at themselves. They had no children, and there was a couple who looked sickeningly in a honeymoon stage of their relationship, and another man, who stood alone in his paintings.
Hyde moved on, knowing that Alva would be working a little slower than he expected too due to the sightings of each other. They had broken contact many fortnights ago, and they were no doubt frazzled.
But, Hyde forced himself to put that at the back of his mind, it was unimportant right now.
He approached a french door, one of the main master bedrooms of the house. Fancy carvings were etched onto the door, and Hyde found that it was unlocked with a silent turn of the handle.
Gripping the glass close to his chest, Hyde opened the door painfully slow, the noise would've been a wreck.
He shifted his light source to the bed in the middle of the room meters away, showing the forms of two bundles under thick duvets. The couple's room.
Hyde shifted his attention, no cats or dogs in the room. No alarms besides Hyde himself. he crept close to the king-sized bed. Snores came from the man, making the floorboards seem less loud in comparison.
He sounds like a whole damn factory.
Hyde went to the man first, the side closest to the door. The man was facing the door, and Hyde looked for every possible way to kill him.
What could this glass do, exactly? What was it's limitations to piercing skin? It wouldn't be hard to find out.
Not wasting another moment, Hyde raised the glass and used both hands for better grip and brute. He swung it down, right between the ribs. The man jerked, the glass fitting right through his skin as if the protective layer was useless.
Blood streamed down after its initial eruption. Hyde sidestepped, blood covering his shoulder in uneven metallic splotches. The man was wide awake now, frozen in shock as his eyes forever stared at his murderer.
Though it was unnerving, Hyde continued swiftly. He slunk the glass out, more blood covering his hands than before- an unintelligible mix between his and the husband's- and brought it down once again to the place dead center to his heart.
He jerked again, this time it brought him out of what trance he was in and he screamed out in agony, hands flailing up to his chest to desperately claw at the weapon stuck in it.
Hyde got scratched a few times before retrieving his shard, but none were deep enough to pierce the skin. The man got manicured regularly.
Hyde stared at his subject a moment longer, watching his body fall onto the floor with a 'thump!' before ultimately passing out from blood loss. He would be dead soon with no medical attention. Hyde kicked him under the bed, now noticing that the woman was awake and in the corner, shaking.
"You... you killed him. . ." she said it in an annoying, high pitched voice. She jumbled her words multiple times before getting it out right.
Yeah, that was a kind of the point. Now it'll be harder to kill you. Hyde mentally rolled his eyes and outwardly scoffed.
Glaring down at her, Hyde stepped closer one glowering step at a time. He was no more than a foot away from her as he dropped to one knee.
"And?" He asked, making no moves to even harm the lady.
He knew she was terrified, and she wouldn't do anything out of the fear that trapped her.
Trapped. He knew what that felt like. She most likely didn't.
Slowly, menacingly, Hyde strode back to the bed. He picked up the pillow she was laying on mere minutes ago. "Don't want the same fate?" He asked, with a sneer. Her fate was sealed the moment she spoke to Rilon years ago.
"Please, sir!" The lady pleaded, her voice quivered and she still spoke as if in a meat freezer. "I have money. I can write you a check!"
"If I wanted money, you and your dead dearest would be held for ransom. I have all the money in the world at my disposal." Hyde said, dropping the glass piece carelessly on the sheets.
He tilted his head, in a questioning way, before talking again for the last time.
"I'm not after money. Think of me as a peacekeeper. Disposing of the unworthy. I just do it severely." Then, he struck.
Her head smashed against the thick wall as Hyde landed on her. He held her down with his weight, and her hands frantically swung in the air to hit Hyde, but he was too out of reach.
The pillow was over her face in less than a heartbeat, and her attention was on getting it off instead of getting Hyde off. Stupid mistake.
Hyde held it there until he felt her go limp under him. Then he brought the pillow up, seeing her face had turned an ugly shade of purplish-blue and had lost all signs of life.
Hyde let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding in. One more to go.
He stood up, checking her pulse for a double measure. Dead. He didn't bother moving anything around, just picked up his glass from the bed and left the room silently.
He wiped spots of blood from his cheek on his clean shoulder sleeve, not enjoying the feeling of it. He'd have to clean it off after this was all said and done.
The other rooms in the manor were empty. But there was still one living person in this home. Hyde peered around a hall corner, spotting decorative stairs leading up in a spiral.
Hyde smirked. Jackpot. The man liked a view - that will be the death of him.
Hyde scurried up the stairs, not wasting a breath as he reached what seemed to be the fifth floor. The starlight remained in the sky from a wall-sized window. It hadn't been long since Hyde had entered the house.
The rooms went down a hall in a prison-like pattern. Hyde opened each of them as he went by, securing the shard in his fist one more time.
The last door was the one that Hyde suspected he was in. He has to be, after all. The doors were all already opened. Hyde crept into the room, seeing ruined sheets but with no one there to ruin them. There was no one in here.
Hyde fell to the floor, someone heavy on top of him. He grunted, the weight holding his lower body still. The opponent was heavy and sturdy but probably didn't know what he was doing in terms of offense. Self-defense would have to be tested.
Hyde got lost in his thoughts, the only thing breaking him out was a clumsy punch to the jaw. Hyde recovered quickly, glaring up at the man. He had panic in his expression, knowing that the man that had entered his home wasn't entering for a joke.
Hyde reached for his weapon before realizing that it landed halfway across the room when Hyde went down. This kill was going to be physical, that's certain.
Hyde grabbed the man's gown front, clashing their heads together. The man cursed, bringing a hand to his head out of natural reflex. Hyde took the chance to flip them both over, getting the upper hand early.
Hyde double punched him without a second thought. Then, he jumped off the opponent when he tried to strike back defensively.
The man took a hot minute to get up, and Hyde waited until he stood fully. Hyde slammed him against the wall, undercutting him twice. His head was knocked into the wall both times, and Hyde was genuinely surprised that the man hadn't been deemed unconscious yet.
The gent gained his bearings for a final rush of adrenaline and shoved Hyde off of himself. Hyde almost tripped over his feet due to the momentum but stayed up long enough to be pinned to the other wall.
The window was inches away from Hyde's ear, and the moonlight that came in from it illuminated the man's bruised face; his jaw was littered with bruises in a discolored mix of shapes, his lip was busted, and even though it wasn't visible Hyde knew that the back of his head was even worse.
"Wait!" Hyde pleaded as the man reared up to punch him. "I'm sorry, I came into the home when I heard a scream from next door. I thought you were the one who killed them. I live just next door."
The man released his sweaty hold on Hyde's collar, a disturbed look in his eye.
"You're a Magnusteen? I haven't heard of a fourth family member."
Hyde nodded frantically, putting on a frightened mask. "Apologies, I have been away for years out of the country, I came back for my sister."
"Oh, I see. . ." The man looked away, slowly blinking and rubbing his beaten jaw. His brows furrowed, "killed? How do you. . . oh my..."
He glanced up at Hyde, intensely observing him. "You are in regular wear, you're covered in-oh my-"
Hyde grinned at the overly funded man. "Faster than I thought you would be."
Hyde sprung at him, grabbing him by the shoulders and twisting them both around. Hyde broke the window out with the man's body, holding him out of the five-story high window.
A breeze flew in, the sounds of panes shattering on the cobble road ringing in Hyde's ears.
"But not fast enough."
"Doctor Arlett?" The man gasped, horror-stricken at the new information. An old memory showing up in his own house, holding onto his very life.
"Mister Hyde." Then Hyde let go of the dead weight, listening to the screams before they were cut off abruptly. Hyde leaned out of the hole in the wall, expecting to see merely a limp body.
Orange flames licked at the top of the first floor, and Hyde forgot about everything else. Alva had set the fire.
Hyde didn't waste time getting out of there, hightailing down the stairs, faster than what could have been the speed of sound.
Already the flames lapped around him - Hyde suspected that Alva had started the fire in multiple places around the house. It was spreading fast, already reaching over Hyde's head when he reached the second floor.
Making a split-second decision, Hyde rode the railing the rest of the way down to the first floor. Fire made it hard to see where he was going; any of his other senses, he ultimately found them to be completely unreliable.
Everything was just a complete shade of bright red.
Hopefully what Hyde noticed in the corner of his eye was a door. He abruptly turned and made a mad dash for it.
He barreled into it - a wall - at top speed. It gave under his weight and collapsed. He didn't catch himself in time to balance himself, and he got sent barreling down the hill.
Hyde fell in a heap, the grass at the bottom of the hill catching his fall. He got to all fours, gasping and choking for air. As he did, he stared upwards at the burning house, nearly surprised to find it already engulfed in flames.
I'm impressed. He muttered to himself, searching for Alva. Half of him prayed that the man had gotten out safely.
Yet, as he got to his feet, there was no sign of him. He could only stare, his eyes darting everywhere in some vain hope that Alva would appear from the house, even if he did appear toasted like overdone bread.
But he never did.
In slow motion, as Hyde broke into a run, the house began to collapse under its weight, collapsed into a flaming heap, sending a wave of hot air that brought Hyde to the ground once again.
It was a long time before he could bring himself to stand again, and the first thing that hit him was the recognizable smell of smoke.
But still no sign of Alva.
That thought struck fear in him, fear that Alva hadn't made it out of there alive.
Fuck it. He was going to search anyway.
Hyde prayed that nobody had spotted either of them, as for a man covered in the blood of the - now-deceased - residents was as suspicious sight in itself. A burning building on the edge of London would be as well, but that didn't matter much to him.
The rubble gave no sign of where the rooms had been before and was about as hard to wade through as wet cement. Yet, who seemed to care. The thing Hyde was searching for mattered more than some damn house.
Even if that thing had been a bitch to him in the past.
While he had been lost in thought, he'd tripped over what had to have been part of a dresser. Hyde caught himself before he landed, and luckily - a jagged part of a broken chandelier lay dangerously close to him.
He breathed a sigh of relief, struggling to regain his equilibrium. Blood pounded in his ears as he frantically searched for Alva, who still hadn't emerged from the house or the rubble.
"That idiot is going to be in big trouble." Hyde struggled through the rubble, silently cursing himself for even showing up in the first place. He could have left Rilon alone, let him sleep.
But he let the thrill get ahead of him.
His legs eventually gave out, and Hyde stumbled to a place and collapsed, struggling for air.
The smell of smoke was just becoming too much, too overwhelming. Hyde knew he was going to die here, having not found Alva, having failed.
The only accomplishment he could accept was that he had rid the world of three more people. Fewer threats to Rilon, fewer people to wrong him.
That didn't feel like a big accomplishment.
"Hey, Eddie." Someone bent down beside him, rubbing his shoulder. It was a husky voice, possibly from the smoke. Yet somehow recognized it.
"Alva." Hyde held up his hand helplessly, gasping. "Get me up, you idiot."
"I'm the idiot now?" Alva took his hand, helping Hyde to his feet. He laughed, a deep, genuine laugh. It was the first time Hyde had heard him laugh in a long while. "You are sorely mistaken."
" No, are you hurt, you big oaf? "
Alva patted himself down, then shrugged. "I don't appear to be, except for this." He pulled at a tear in his jacket, wear blood slowly oozed from it. It was hard to tell in the firelight and the darkness of the early morning.
"Oh," he fumbled through his coat, holding something out in his hand. "You dropped this."
Hesitantly, Hyde stared at the object. It was the shard. For a moment it escaped him that he'd dropped it, but when he tried to take it, Alva held his hand.
"Can you forgive me, just this once?"
Hyde didn't know how to respond at first, and he couldn't put it into words. Alva had done terrible things, but none as great as this. It had been just a petty little fight, anyway.
Alva had made his thoughts all flustered, discombobulated. It was all so... wrong.
"Fine." He was flustered; to him, the reply appeared almost rude. He took the shard and stashed it in his pocket, with the strange urge that he was forgetting something.
Then frustrated, Hyde huffed, seizing Alva by the lapels of his coat, pulling him down to his eye level, and, against his own will but filled with a strange feeling, kissing him.
Alva appeared nearly surprised at this, but he relaxed and surprised Hyde as well.
He kissed him back.
"Alva." Hyde stopped as they entered back into the city. He stared at the ground as Alva let go of his hand.
The man disappeared into the darkness of an alleyway as Hyde gathered up his thoughts. He could only stare as Alva appeared to have leaned against a wall, staring at him. The gold of his eyes reflected in the little moonlight that shone upon them.
Three people dead, and for what? Just a little thing they had said to Rilon nearly two decades ago? Did that matter now?
" Alva, I -"
He didn't get to finish what he was saying, as Alva appeared to be entangled in some infernal struggle, sliding down the wall as if his legs were no use to him anymore.
Panicking, Hyde ran to him.
He was just fine a moment ago, I swear.
"Alva, you idiot."
The man was now only held up by the wall, weakly staring at his hands, which were crossed in his lap. "I got you out safe, didn't I?"
" Yeah, but -" The panic rose in Hyde's throat, cutting him off abruptly. He felt helpless, kneeling beside him and dropping the shard. No other words rose in his throat, and he buried his head in his hands out of grief.
"Eddie, at least you got out safe." Hyde raised his head - Alva was staring him straight in the eye with whatever strength he appeared to have left. "I could have been the major bitch I am and just left you there." He weakly laughed as he said this as if contemplating the outcomes. He had considered that... Hyde realized but had gone against his morals.
Still, he should be fine. The only wound Hyde had seen on him was that shoulder wound.
Unless… unless the injuries were internal.
He should have been aware of that.
Alva was going to have a slow, suffering death.
Right at that moment, Hyde felt a wave of defeat drown his once euphoric mood. He couldn't just leave Alva there to die after Alva came back for him.
Instantly and unconsciously, Hyde's hand went to pick up the shard, which had been discarded on the ground beside him. This was what he had to do, wasn't it? Put Alva out of his misery?
Although the shard, that of which was once familiar to him, now felt foreign in his hand. He clenched his hand into a fist, felt the pain of its sharp edges, cutting into him. Once again, he relished it.
It also came to him that familiar hesitation that pierced his mind like the shard.
Could he do it?
"I know what you're thinking, Edward." Alva sat himself up against the alley wall, groaning as he did so. "You want to put me out of my misery. I'm some suffering animal to you, aren't I?"
Hyde dropped the shard once again, looked away, and nodded. For once in his life, he ignored his impulses, rejected them. He didn't want to kill Alva, at least not on purpose.
"Then do it."
Hyde's head shot up at Alva's order. Was this really what he wanted?
Again he struggled to find the words. "Alva, I.. I can't." He slumped down into a sitting position. He didn't want to hurt those close to him; after the residents' murders, he didn't want to kill anyone else. That was all taken care of.
"I've seen you… I saw you… in that room." Alva was growing weaker still. "That man was.. Dead within seconds."
Except for the couple, Hyde had believed that he was alone in that room. Alva had been… watching him?
Hyde felt his hands shake, and he nearly dropped his weapon once again.
Dead within seconds, instead of suffering for hours. This was how Alva wanted to go out, wasn't it?
Alright.
Hyde took a deep breath, steadying himself and his hand. Alva stared at him with a knowing look, smiling sadly. "I'll see you soon, Eddie."
"I'll see you too." Hyde bent forward and pulled Alva into what was the guise of a hug. Less than a few moments later, the deed was done. He felt Alva slightly jerk, but there were no protests. Hyde knew that he couldn't.
Hyde's hand slipped away from the weapon, which had now been embedded in Alva's chest. Alva slumped forward, letting out a gurgling sigh.
He was right.
He had died within seconds.
Hyde didn't want to do this, but this is what it had come to. He couldn't just take it all back.
He sucked in a breath and buried his face into Alva's shoulder. For some time, he stayed like this, an emotionless mess before something finally snapped in him. He began shaking, trembling until he felt his eyes sting. His cheeks were wet.
He was...crying?
He set Alva's body back against the wall, falling back and staring at him. It was taking everything to keep him from sobbing. He reached out to retrieve the shard but something overcame him and his hand dropped.
"No.. No." The realization came to him that Alva's blood was over him. The residents' blood. Something not easily rid of.
He needed somewhere to clean up.
"I'm sorry, Alva." He leaned back over, kissing Alva on the forehead as if bidding him a good sleep. In a way, he was. "I'll see you in hell. For now," he took a pause, sighing before he continued. "I have someone else to visit."
He took the shard out of Alva's chest — with some difficulty — and got to his feet. "I'll miss you, you dumb bastard."
Without a further glance, Hyde started off to another place.
Another place. Hyde's secondary thoughts rung in his head and ears, giving him a massive headache to start the day with.
He couldn't go back to Rilon's apartment. Not in this state. Not yet, Hyde wasn't ready to go back into dormancy. It was too early and he knew he would regret giving up control again.
Another place. What other places did Hyde know, besides the never-ending streets of London? Of course, the only place left in the world that could give Hyde peace and sanctuary.
Ottawa's home. Ottawa's arms. Ottawa's heart. The one place where Hyde was (most of the time) welcomed wholly and Hyde could be Hyde with her. Not some ex-heir who created this mess of a personality.
Not just Ottawa's home, their shared home. Hyde let the fact of the hitch slip his mind in the fritz of it all. He was so happy to finally get a home with the one he loved but...
The dread came back to Hyde. His heart sank and his hands trembled at his sides. Ottawa was innocent, she doesn't know the man she married. She doesn't know the things he has done nor the blood on his hands. The victims Hyde has ruthlessly killed just for pleasure and so-called revenge.
Could he? Hyde sucked in a painful breath, stopping and leaning against a lit pole for support. He caught his breath, one that hasn't been lost. Hyde felt like Rilon suddenly - hopeless, powerless, and like the world had turned against him.
Hyde knew it wasn't exactly unfair, Hyde wasn't the best of men, but Alva didn't deserve to go the way he did.
And his blood. . . Hyde looked down at his stained hands, seeing the quiver uncontrollably. Hyde killed someone he loved.
Hyde forced himself to think of something, anything, that could be a better train of thought. If Hyde hadn't been there this morning, Alva would have died a slow and miserable death anyway. Hyde shortened it.
The thought just made Hyde sicker, and he swallowed harshly. His legs started to shake, coming back like an old memory. He didn't know what to do, his mind was everything but right.
Hyde needed to go home, even if for a night. He needed to recuperate and think without being so exposed.
It was selfish to do that to someone like Ottawa, but Hyde couldn't help but stay with her. She was his anchor, and he couldn't live much longer without her.
Hyde started into a jog, thinking only about getting home and nothing else. Tunnel vision blocked out his other senses, including his blurry vision and drilling headache.
He accelerated into a silent sprint before stopping suddenly and almost tripping from the momentum. His clothes. His face. Hyde needed a change of - everything, for the most part. Ottawa would immediately be suspicious.
She's innocent, not dull. Ottawa is a brilliant mind, even in fine lighting, she could figure something out. Something that Hyde had worked to cover up so desperately. He couldn't lose this one, not when she was his lifeline.
Hyde turned a sharp corner into an alley with a bunch of connected houses. Simple family houses, nothing extravagant like the one that had just burned to the ground. Hyde inhaled a quick breath, not wanting to recall anything right then. Hyde wiped his face of any excess liquid, facing a dark brown home.
Hyde checked all the windows, immediately finding one left unlocked and cracked near the side of the home. Upon entering, Hyde found out that the window was for ventilation. The home was hotter than anything outside currently, they must have a few opened windows.
Hyde couldn't blame the family, the crime in London with these family neighborhoods was almost nonexistent. No wonder they felt safe leaving a few windows open to catch a drift. Hyde peered around the home, finding the master easily. A couple lay in bed, snoring their night away.
Hyde tiptoed to the closet, cursing any creak in the floorboards. Opening the closet with maximum patience, Hyde found many sorts of men's clothes. Sweaters, coats, shirts, trousers. Hyde grabbed a soft light-colored sweater and long trousers. Hyde hoped that the sink running for a minute wouldn't wake either of the pair from their slumber.
Turning to them for a moment, Hyde confirmed that they most likely wouldn't even move a muscle at a thunderstorm. They were sprawled out on one another, snoring in a strange synchronization that Hyde found excessively creepy.
Hyde moved into the hall, finding the main bathroom more near what could be a children's bedroom. He slunk into the confined room, closing the door swiftly. The bathroom had a window. It would be a squeeze to get out, but Hyde couldn't risk going out again.
Hyde switched out of his browned clothes and into the fresh ones. He washed his face with a vicious scrub, ridding himself of Alva's blood. That would haunt him continuously.
He left the old clothes on the sink, staring at his faceless self in the small mirror above it. The darkness of the room prevented Hyde from seeing his expression in the mirror, but the lamplight from outdoors let Hyde see his clear outline. The man in the mirror wasn't someone Hyde wanted to be, but he chose to be anyway.
Hyde looked down at his hands, cupped with water in them. He splashed his face, clearing it a final time with a small hand towel. Hyde grabbed the bundle of old clothes, jumping out of the high window and rushing to a nearby canal. He dumped Rilon's clothes into it, clearing anything else from his hands. It wouldn't be as easy to do that mentally as he did physically.
Hyde took a moment for a deep breath before started back onto course for home. Ottawa would be sleeping, as she should be. It was probably four in the morning at this point. She never woke that early if she could help it.
He quickly made his way down the roads, feeling a chill run down his spine. From a breeze or his own emotions, Hyde couldn't define a line. The home came up, a pure boon compared to everything else.
Hyde rushed up the porch stairs three at a time, practically skipping the stairs entirely. Softly, as if he would break the door itself, Hyde cracked open the door and entered his house. He closed it quietly behind him, locking it for good measure.
Hyde lit a lantern in the living room, placing it back on its hook and shaking out the match. Quickly, he tossed the match in the trash, not wanting to look at a firestarter. The lantern's flickering was enough to make his eyes unconsciously water. He didn't mean to, but his body and mind willing the tears back with Alva. He loved Alva, even if they weren't on good terms.
Hyde wouldn't forget him.
"Have a good stroll?" Hyde jumped from his planted position, knocking over the vase on the stand. Hyde struggled to catch it, still in shock from the sudden voice, and the pottery ended up slipping through his fingers.
"Oh - Ottawa! I'm sorry, I didn't-"
"Don't bother, it was fake anyway," Ottawa said, still as sharp as her first comment. "Where have you been, Edward?" She asked, almost as if she expected it to he a simple-worded answer.
"You're still awake?" Hyde avoided the question, knowing she would eventually break him.
"Edward," Ottawa looked narrowly up at him from her spot on the singular couch. Her legs were crossed firmly, her arms folded above. She looked exhausted, and Hyde felt a stream of guilt wash through him. She had waited all night for him to return.
"Ott, did you stay up all night?" Hyde questioned softly, his facial features dropping at the realization. How many days had Hyde been away? How many nights had she stayed up only to realize her husband wasn't coming home? God, he was stupid to leave her so much like this. The number of days he had left his wife alone in the empty house, the worry she had felt every waking moment of it.
Hyde knew only because he felt those same emotions when Rilon was in control. Countless days were spent worrying about Ottawa and thinking restlessly about her. About the baby.
She gave him a look that told him everything and more. "Edward, you promised you'd be here more often for us. I can't do this alone." Her tone softened, and Hyde dropped everything he was feeling to approach her.
He crouched in front of her on one knee, gently taking her hands in his as they did during their vows. "Ottawa, I'm sorry. I know I promised that I'd be around more. . . things came up and got messy. From now on, I'll keep true to my promise." Hyde said honestly, laying a faint kiss on each hand like they were porcelain glass.
I need to talk to Rilon, we need to discuss this whole ordeal before I lose my wife. Hyde thought solemnly, knowing Rilon would understand but be reluctant due to Hyde's destructive behaviors - like today, for example.
But, Rilon liked Ottawa and understood his alter's affection for her and his unborn child. He surely would allow the majority of control to pass on to Hyde. Rilon was a true man.
Hyde looked painfully up at Ottawa, feeling his lies creep up to his throat as his words got caught.
Her eyes were watery as she stared down at her lover, and an out of character giggle came from her and she reached up to wipe her eyes from any incoming tears. Hyde panicked slightly, knowing about the easy mood swings that could be occurring. But it wasn't anything like that. What she said wasn't cursed hormones.
"You idiot, do you have any idea how worried I've been?" She laughed again, settling on the floor and holding her husband in her arms once again. Ottawa rested her face in the crook of Hyde's neck as he wrapped his arms as tight as he was able to around her. "I missed you, Hyde."
"I missed you too, Ott," Hyde said sincerely, grinning into her shoulder. "Both of you." Hyde placed his hand between them, on Ottawa's baby-swollen belly.
"Mein Lieblinge." Hyde murmured, finally feeling safe and loved for the first time in a long time.
"But for now, let's get you to bed. You look like a raccoon, dear." Hyde said playfully, standing quickly and picking her up in his arms with him.
Ottawa cried out in surprise and laughter, lightly tapping Hyde's chest. "Hey! Watch the baby!" She exclaimed harmlessly between laughs.
"You don't look much better than a raccoon, Hyde." Before she could speak any more, Hyde hurried to their shared bedroom, placing her ever-so-gently on the bed.
"What, they're cute, aren't they?" Hyde asked, settling in beside her and holding her close. This is what it felt like to be home. Not at the place, not even close to a place. With Ottawa home.
She shrugged. "Not really. They're disgusting raggedy little creatures, with messy fur and yellow teeth."
"And you're saying I look no better than one?* Although admittedly irritated, Hyde smiled.
"Maybe."
Ottawa pulled the covers over her yawning loudly. “Now please get some sleep before I worry about you more.”
Uneasily, Hyde lay back into the bed, but he couldn’t bring himself to shut his eyes, not with all the thoughts running through his head.
I feel like she’s going to find out in the worst way possible.
Will she hate me for that?
For several hours, he lingered that way, unable to sleep, jealous of how deeply Ottawa could, when he couldn’t.
Finally, he rose from the bed around midmorning, careful not to wake her. He lightly kissed her forehead, muttering a quiet, “I’m sorry, Ott.” before he left the room.
She wasn't going to forgive him for this, leaving her alone, going away without telling her, but he needed to get back to the Tower before the President got suspicious about Rilon's whereabouts.
Hyde couldn’t linger out here consciously anymore. At first, taking back control, it seemed fun, amusing even, but after a while, physicality only made Hyde sick to his stomach.
He made his way to a nearby alleyway, giving up. Rilon couldn’t linger silently without physical form forever. He felt his consciousness slipping, but not from the lack of sleep, and it was hard to keep himself from stumbling and collapsing.
Rilon fell to the ground with a loud thud, not catching himself in time. He groaned loudly as his body made an impact with the ground, and more when he attempted to get to his feet.
He held out his hands before him, examining them. Except for a few minor cuts and scrapes, they appeared fine.
He couldn't exactly say the same thing for his hair, which felt scorched to the touch.
He needed his glasses. Frantically, he searched his pockets, in hopes that Hyde had saved them.
It didn't immediately register to him that these weren't his clothes.
Your clothes are in the river, sorry. As for your glasses…
Rilon snarled under his breath. "This is the fourth time... I swear to God." He glanced around quickly, frustrated that only the things at a farther distance away were the things he could see, and not one of them was the tower. "How far am I?"
Hyde did not reply, only causing more frustration on Rilon's behalf. He paced quickly down the alley, narrowing his eyes in a vain attempt to see better. Of course, he didn't need a doctorate to know that that never works.
Uneasy and weary, he found his way into the streets. They were empty with the night, but as soon as the sun rose, it would be full of people. He needed to get home.
As he couldn't see, Rilon stared at the ground as he walked, lost in thought.
What time is it? I couldn't have blacked out for that long? Has it been a day, a week, a month? What-
Bang!
In his dissociation, he'd run into a street pole. He rubbed his head, still which was still stinging from the impact, and glared at the street pole as if it had been a living being.
If Asiah had seen this, I'd never hear the end of it.
You'll never hear the end of it from me, unfortunately.
"Hyde, please shut up and explain what's going on." Rilon finally looked up, attempting not to make that mistake again. "There're unexplained cuts on my hands, my hair is a mess, and I vaguely smell of smoke. Were you with Alva?"
I'll- I'll explain that later. Hyde muttered, then falling silent. That was what Rilon was afraid of. After years of sharing a mind with Hyde, there was nothing scarier than when he fell silent.
Rilon didn't like being alone in his mind.
Alone, and trying not to stumble into any light poles, he made his way home, albeit quickly, for the sun would rise soon, and a man wandering alone on the street would be a suspicious sight.
There was not a single person in the lobby when he entered the Tower. Rilon chose the stairs over the elevator, as it would take longer and would give him much more time to go over his thoughts.
Only it wasn't until he reached the fifth floor that Hyde spoke again. It nearly startled him.
I was with Alva.
"Like that's going to reassure me." Rilon paused, sitting on the steps, gazing out into the vastness of the fifth floor.
I visited Ottawa.
"That reassures me a bit," Rilon muttered, sighing, but he didn't relax. "But that doesn't tell me why I look like a mess, Edward."
Would it reassure you to say that you'll never hear from Alva again?
"That doesn't make me more or less worried than I already am. " It made Rilon tense up more.
He's gone.
"Gone, like, fled the country, or gone like..." Somehow he knew and didn't finish the sentence. He wanted to know the answer to the question, an answer that he feared so much. "Gone... Like..."
He's... He's dead, Rilon.
Nervously, Rilon laughed, hugging himself to reassure that what Hyde said was a lie. He always lied. He was manipulating Rilon's emotions... That's what he was doing.
If you're denying all this, you're lying to yourself, Arlett. Those cuts on your hands are from me. His blood is on our hands. I killed him - he's not coming back.
"I.. How?" Those were the only words his choked up throat would allow him to say.
Yet Hyde did not say anything to clarify what deed he had exactly done, falling silent once again.
Rilon got to his feet, now making his way up the stairs much more slowly. It took everything in his power to not cry, or collapse on the spot, for fear that he may be seen by an oncoming person.
So he forced himself on as far as he could go.
The seventh floor was where his body finally gave up, out of pain and out of anguish. He fell on the corner of the stairwell, curling up into a tight ball. Still, he didn't cry. He felt too numb to.
Rilon only lifted his head at the sound of footsteps, hurried footsteps. He recognized them, light and quick. The owner of the footsteps must've dropped everything and run.
Only one person would do that.
Asiah.
The footsteps quickly pounded down the stairs, then abruptly stopped. Rilon stared up to find Asiah looking down at him. If it weren't for the concern - maybe empathy - in his eyes, Rilon would have most likely said that he was irritated at him.
He lowered his head and sighed. "You've been looking for me."
Asiah knelt before him, placing a hand gently on Rilon's shoulder, which Rilon flinched at. "You worried me sick. Where have you been?"
"I-" Rilon started, but stopped himself in the act. Hyde owned those memories - he couldn't lie. "I don't know. It's all just a jumbled mess of.." He shrugged, unable to bring words to what he felt. "I'm sick, Asi."
He was more than sick. He was in pain, so much pain that he couldn't bring words to what he felt. He ached, he hurt. It made him sick to his stomach, knowing how much he was keeping from his brother.
Asiah sat down, removing his hand from Rilon's shoulder. From what Rilon caught, he was aware of how stupid he looked when he sat there.
"For once," he said. "Please tell me what's going on."
For a split second, Rilon wanted to lie, but Asiah would see through it as he always did. He lowered his head, shaking. A sob escaped from his throat, then another. He felt tears began to streak down his face and drip steadily to the floor. He was a mess, a crying mess. Rilon was so caught up in his emotions, that he didn't realize that Asiah had pulled him into a hug.
It wasn't only out of comfort. It was also to hide his face. Rilon didn't need to see him or hear him, to know that he was crying as well. He knew that Asiah didn't exactly know what he had broken down about.
"Asi..." Rilon whispered as his brother buried his face into Rilon's shoulder. He was still trembling. "Oh, Asi."
He held him close, for fear of when this moment of closeness would end. These moments were rare anymore, especially as so many things had attempted - and admittedly succeeded in - breaking their relationship apart. The last time they had this kind of brotherly intimacy was way too long ago for Rilon to recall clearly.
After a moment, Asiah raised his head and pulled away. Embarrassed, he let out a sad laugh.
"I don't even know what I'm crying about…" His breath shuddered. "I just see you and... well I -" Asiah's face twisted into a grimace, and he stared at his lap. "I crash."
Without warning, he got to his feet, and his face hardened, showing no trace of the emotion he had felt before. "I need to get back to work, Rilon. Would you be okay, by yourself?”
As much as Rilon wanted to shake his head, to plead for his brother to stay there and keep him company, he couldn’t. Instead, he forced out a lie, choked up from emotion. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”
“Alright.” Asiah smiled, sparing him a final glance before heading back up the stairs again.
After a long while of silence and loneliness, Rilon let out a long, deep sigh. He hadn’t been aware of how fully exhausted he had been until now, his emotions clogging up his every thought.
He struggled to get to his feet but failed. Several more tries proved to be even more of an impossibility. He hated ignoring the fact that his own body was telling him to sleep, but he needed to get to his place, the most comfortable place in the Tower.
After one last attempt, Rilon collapsed back to the floor.
I guess I’ll just sleep here, then, he murmured. I have had a long night, haven’t I?
He chuckled at the thought, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. Then, freeing himself from any further thought, Rilon finally fell asleep.
I know I usually don’t post original things on my Tumblr, but my story was recently released on Rogue Animal Books, so, go give it a read! It’s only up to part of Chapter Ten, but I plan on updating it biweekly!
He had disappeared again, my brother behind that deceiving facade of his.
Although, I found myself convinced that his facade was more of a being of his own than my brother. Like he and my brother were two separate people inside of him instead of my brother and a fragment of his mind.
These were the thoughts that ran through my mind as I stepped onto the balcony to clear my mind.
That was when I spotted him, sprinting away from the Tower.
He paused, as if knowing that he was being watched, then turned around. Our gazes locked for a brief moment. I somehow saw a childlike innocence in those blue eyes, and undaunted curiosity that I often never saw in Rilon.
His eyes narrowed, then he turned back and broke into his run once again, and I watched him as he disappeared within the crowd of the city streets.
Again, for the third time that night, I had disturbed my own sleep.
Lately, had been having these bouts of coughing fits. At first, I had deemed it a cold and figured that I would eventually shake it off. When it persisted, I knew something was wrong.
I just hoped that it wasn't too serious, but with my age being so advanced in years, I knew that it had to be.
I say up in bed, finding that, laying on my back, I had struggled to breathe. Yet, now that I was sitting up, I found that I was no better.
Amil had heard me; he sat up in bed beside me. His tone was thinly laced with concern as he spoke to me.
"Are you alright, dear?"
I nodded, although it was clearly a lie, and one that Amil could see through. My breath shuddered, nearly triggering another fit, but I managed to catch it before it would allow itself to seize me.
"I'm alright, " I said quietly. "You needn't worry yourself."
I watched him as he lay back down, but his eyes did not close. He was watching me, still worried. I knew he had a right to be.
My face moved from him toward the window. I sucked in a deep breath, letting it out through my nose as a long - winded sigh. After a brief, nearly striking thought in my mind, I lay back down beside Amil.
He closed his eyes, and is breath slowed; he was asleep within moments.
The least I could do was reassure him that I was okay — at least, for now.
Again, I sighed and closed my own eyes. Moments later, sleep crept upon me like an endless, dark wave.
Everything about that day had become a blur. A blur, so unclear, where it was hard to tell whether it had all been a dream or not.
And poor Henry.
The small tom had broken them all out of that terrible place, all on his own. He had been so exhausted, that by the last cat, he'd collapsed and hadn't woken up since.
That had been that morning. Now that the sun was setting, Hastie had begun to worry.
Would he ever wake up?
"Gabriel? Should we rest?" He glanced to the gray tabby, who was carrying Henry on his shoulders. Gabriel stared at him, and nodded.
The tabby set Henry down. For a brief moment - almost hopeful - Hastie thought that he would stir. By the tom stayed still, not stirring, much to Hastie's dismay.
Was he going to be ok?
A smaller brown tom alighted before the two of them. "Well, I guess these can be used for something good after all." He said happily. His tone dropped as Hastie and Gabriel stared at him in annoyance. "Um, that's not good news, is it?"
"Take a wild guess, Enfield." Gabriel snarled. His cousin apparently had something else on his mind other than the possibly brain dead cat lying motionless on the ground. Hastie didn't want to think that he was brain dead.
"Um..." Enfield dipped his head in shame , staring at the ground below them. "Are you sure this place is safe?"
"An alleyway can't get much safer." Hastie lay down near Henry , cautiously watching him to see if he'd stir again. Still he didn't, and he laid his head in his paws.
He wanted him to wake. Henry was his best friend. They'd been through so much - they couldn't give that all up now.
He supposed he would sleep it off. It wouldn't get rid of his worry, but Hastie decided to give it a shot.
~~~~~~
Fear stirred him. Fear from an unknown source.
Hastie blinked awake with a quiet gasp, and glanced to his friends. Both Gabriel and Enfield slept peacefully next to each other, huddled together for warmth.
But Henry was gone.
"Henry?" It was hard to keep his voice low; it squeaked in worry. "Henry?"
Panic triggered the bike, and it rose in his throat. His friend was gone.
Hastie abruptly stood, cursing under his breath. He started to go down the alleyway, when he caught sight of a small figure huddled at the end. Alone.
They were hunched over, as if in pain or mourning. Moonlight pointed off of their fur, turning it into a nearly blinding silver.
Hope replaced panic. "Henry?"
The figure did not respond, instead looking to the sky. It took a moment for Hastie to confirm his identity.
It was Henry.
Hastie trotted down and sat beside him. His eyes were closed, so he didn't care speak to him in fear of disturbing Henry. A dark liquid slowly dripped from Henry's mouth, which Hastie instantly recognized as blood.
"Are you… are you alright, Henry?"
"Oh." The white tom's voice was quiet, almost hoarse. He wiped at his muzzle, which only smeared the blood over it, making more of a mess than he had most likely intended. "Did I get it?" He asked, facing Hastie.
Hastie purred, and shook his head. "Not quite."
He licked the blood off himself, as much as he could anyway. When he pulled away, there were still small smears on Henry's muzzle, but they weren't large enough to be noticed by the naked eye.
Henry purred, and stared out into the street, watching cars pass by. Hastie joined him, but counted. At least five passed before Henry broke the silence again.
"There's something I need to ask you."
Hastie turned to look at him; Henry stared at his paws. "I know you like me, as a friend and all, but…" he hesitated, stammering for words. Hastie turned to watch the street again to let the small tom gather up his words. "Do you... 'like me' like me is what I'm asking. "
"I..." Hastie didn't move, nervous himself, going over thoughts and experiences before they had escaped from that terrible place. Affection disguised as little helpful compliments, any excuses Hastie would make to get close to Henry, to feel his presence again.
He believed that these were all gestures he had done out of close friendship.
Could he have been in denial about his feelings that entire time?
"In all honesty, I… I don't know." He felt panicky, his hear racing, the blood pounding in his ears. "You're making me doubt every feeling I've had in my head."
He never could recall a time in his life where he felt affection for a she-cat, nothing what he considered past platonic. But then again, there were only one or two she-cats there in the lab, but he didn't show any feelings for them despite friendship.
He traced at the ground, his mind being replaced with other thoughts. Was he attracted to other toms? Was there a word for that?
"I might." He forced a purr to show Henry that he was still ready for a respond, but Henry was paying attention to the street again. His focus was no longer on Hastie.
Guilt rose in his throat. He hadn't given the correct response in time.
"To tell you the truth," Henry turned to look at him as he spoke again, although blankly as if he still was zoned out. "I do? What is that word? I don't know. I just don't have feelings for she-cats. I think I'm too close to you to feel that way."
Henry blinked; Hastie wasn't sure if the point had registered.
"Maybe, we could give it a shot." Hopefully that was enough to bring Henry's full attention.
"Wait." Henry blinked again. "Really?"
" I guess. " Hastie purred again. He got to his paws, turning around to look at Gabriel and Enfield. They were still huddled close together. They both looked... Peaceful. "I guess we should get some rest?"
Henry was quick to agree. "Yeah."
~~~~~~
The sun has risen, and Gabriel was the first to stir. He let out a loud yawn and glanced to his friends.
His cousin, Enfield, was still asleep peacefully, his tiny wings fluttering every so often.
On the other side of him, Henry and Hastie were huddled together. Something had told him that they'd talked during the night… grown closer.
He did not stir them, resting his head in his paws and dreaming about the day they had finally escaped.
He greets me, but I don't hear him, staring into space, my chin resting in the palm of my hand.
"So, old friend -" his voice comes from behind me. He cuts himself off. The air grows tense.
I rise from the chair suddenly, nearly snarling under my breath. "Don't give me that." I say, waving a hand absentmindedly. "I don't need that.."
Before he joins me, I collapse in the chair, bile rising in my throat. "Don't say anything."
He comes to stand beside me; a hand rests on the arm of my chair. From the way he grips the arm, I can tell he's tense.
The tone is flat, emotionless. Almost like me. "Did you hear about Carew?"
I stare at the fireplace ahead of me - coals are still red from the fire I started earlier this morning. After a few moments of nervous hesitation, I nod. "I heard them shouting on the streets this morning."
I don't add anything extra - I want to hear what he knows.
"They're blaming your assistant, Henry."
I turn to look up at his face, but it's turned away from me. My eyes narrow. We think we know something the other being does not.
"I don't think it was my assistant, Lanyon." My lip curls with disgust when I say his name. "Even if he did, I wouldn't believe him."
His face remains turned away. I hear his breath hitch.
He knows something.
As Lanyon walls over to stand beside the fireplace, I follow him with my haze. His movements don't seem tense as his voice suggests, but there's still something robotic about them.
"I know," There's a hint of a growl in his reply. As I opened my mouth to speak - to protest - what he says makes what I wanted to say die in my throat. "Time Lord."
I pretend not to react as he turned around to face me, avoiding his gaze as he tried to look me dead in the eye.
He had to know someway or another. I can't keep this facade of being human up forever.
I dismiss any further thoughts and sit up straight in my chair.
"I know it wasn't really your assistant, if you could even call him such a thing..."
My ears started ringing, although it wasn't enough to drown out Lanyon's words.
"He's you, isn't he?"
I respond without hesitation. "My assistant is a man from Soho. He's the man responsible for Carew's… " I hesitate for a second too long on the last word. "Murder."
"Oh really, I thought you said he wasn't responsible? " By the way his fist clenches, I can tell I've said the wrong thing. He smiles, but I can tell that it's forced - it doesn't meet his eyes.
A sigh escapes from my nose. My mouth is open but no words escape from it.
"Fine." I get up to confront him, but he shakes his head and gives me the cold stare again.
If you could depart from this world by saying a single word, would you?
I would? I would speak my wish and I would vanish, gone like mist in a gale.
Unfortunately, that isn't so easy. Easier said than done, is what they say, isn't it? Well, I find it easier done than said.
I have to keep these wishes locked inside the safe place of my mind, as if you could call my mind such a thing anymore.
I want to lie down and wish this day had been all but a dream, to wish my life had been all but a dream. To wake up and be in a perfect place where everyone was still alive and happy. To wake up and tell myself that I hadn't caused this mess, that I didn't mean to hurt anyone.
That's not happening is it?
You can reassure me that this will all blow over, but it won't. It won't.
My time for grief will never be over. I'll just lay here in my emotionless mess, numb to the happenings of the world.
Good.
I don't seem to care.
I want him gone.
Why did I choose to accept existence in this world if all I were going to was destroy it?
I wasn't born pure evil, and yet, why did I choose it?
Maybe I could whisper a word and just end. End it.
I could hide, never to surface in this world again.
Yes, I could hide. It would work. Leave my other in silence, the silence and numbness he's cried out for for so long.
No.
I don't want that. I need someone to talk to, even one who's driven me mad.
I don't cry out for silence. I just want the world to.. Go away. Pretend I'm not here.
And leave me to die in it? Leave me, someone new to this world, to fend for himself?
I refuse to let myself out. For once I want to linger in the darkness. You can have your light, and I'll force your silence.
I knew you were always such a pitiless Hyde.
I wanted you this way. I feel that is bold of you to assume that I ever pitied you.
I pitied you.
If you did you wouldn't run my life as you did.
I LET YOU LIVE IT! I LET YOU LIVE YOURS AND YOU DESTROYED MINE!
It's not too late to beg for my silence. Do you regret me speaking?
You do not reply…
I wanted to silence myself but it seems you've already started.
I'll let you have your silence. I'll perish as if I were never here…
Poor Henry Jekyll, you were doomed from the start.
Sometimes, I wonder if life is just a crazy fever dream.
I do find that many things are not sensible enough to be true.
Maybe feelings just get in the way of that. I know that way too well. I know how other people feel way too well, and it gets too painful to shut out.
I escape to the mountains often to actually have my feelings to myself instead of the muddled mess of distress I find often in the tower.
I like having things to myself. It's a selfish thing to think, I know, but I like it. I like to think it. I like to feel it.
Often, I am alone here, but sometimes I find myself joined by a stranger who is anything but. I can tell someone is there when the emotions I feel don't belong to me anymore.
"Aren't you supposed to be back at the tower?" His voice hits me with a torrent of annoyance. I startle, nearly falling from the ledge before catching myself.
He stands on a more sturdy part of the mountain, just off from a precipice of certain death. He knows one wrong step could mean it, but he's trying to hide that from me.
I shake my head and pull my legs up to my chest. I rest my chin on my knees and sigh. "Yes," I admit. "I am. I will not go back to... That mess."
He steps cautiously toward me; I don't need to see him to feel the vertigo he feels, the stabbing fear as he looks down.
"It helps if you keep your eyes level. Looking down makes it worse."
His breath steadied as he took my advice. He sat beside me, copying my position on the ledge. I unfurl a fire red wing behind him as if to protect him, and even though more annoyance sparks in him, I keep it there.
My breath hitches as I stare at him. His short back hair is ruffled, and his amber eyes are nearly a dull brown - there are dark circles beneath the latter. He came to escape, too.
Seconds later, he catches me watching him. I break away and huff loudly. "Aren't you supposed to be at the tower doing," I form air quotes with my fingers as I added "'Presidential duties '?"
He wants to speak - he really does - but he refrains from doing so.
"Someone else can take care of it, eh?"
He nods, and relaxes. "It gets too much some days. The amount of work I have to do feels unreal."
The amount of distress I feel is unreal, I want to add, but I keep my mouth shut.
