AN: this took me… what, like 3 hours? Cool. Enjoy!
Warnings: character death mention, (child) abuse/harm mention, (other) abuse/harm mention, self-hatred, self-consciousness, snooping, cursing, panic attack/panic attack symptoms, drinking mention
Warnings (detail?): alluding to (hinting at) character death, abuse and/or harm, child abuse and/or harm. Drinking/drunk, hang/hungover mention. Snooping for plot. Self-consciousness (1/10), intimidation (3/10), cursing (4/10), self-hatred (5/10), guilt (7/10).
Summary: Ethan snoops a bit and finds something that Alex never wanted anyone to find.
“Alex?” Ethan called into the dark room. No response. He turned on the light and looked around.
“Guess he’s not here,” he murmured to himself, taking a look around the room.
The room was nice. There was a closet in the far right corner and a dresser on the left wall, both colored a dark wood, and a large bed with black sheets. The walls were black, or perhaps a near-black sort of blue, and there were dark curtains on the window. There were few personalized items in the room - a few books on the dresser, another on the nightstand, small gifts on the window sill, odd articles of clothing thrown across a chair - but one item seemed to stand out. On the nightstand, behind the book, was a box - a small chest, really - that looked rather ornate. It was open, the only open thing in the room. Curious, Ethan made his way towards the small chest.
The chest was magical, the air around it a subtle type of heavy from all of its enchantments. (That probably should’ve been his first clue to turn away, really, but he didn’t stop to think about it). The inside of the chest was lined with red velvet, and sitting upon that was a small rectangular object with buttons on one side. Upon picking it up, Ethan realized it was a tape recorder. He hesitated, listening to see if anyone was coming - then he pressed play.
“December 10th, xx43, log 742.” It was Alex’s voice, speaking in Neltimin, the date only eight years ago. “Hey Aria, it’s me. As…always, uh… It’s almost dumb how I’m still doing this, but… Anyways, the girl that I told you about last time - Lacy, remember? - turned out to be - get this - working for my father. Big shocker, right?” He didn’t sound surprised or shocked at all. His tone was more deadpan, than anything. He sighed. “Still wants me to be a part of his ‘business empire’ or whatever the gossip calls it these days. It’s a shame that he always picks girls like her, the pretty ones with little mind of their own who want pretty, rich husbands to help them give them meaning in life. Guess that’s why I liked you so much, you just… weren’t that, weren’t like anyone I’d been around before. You’d probably hate girls like that. You seem like the type to… but then again, you thought similar things to me, and…so I shouldn’t assume what you would or wouldn’t like.” He gave a short laugh. “Assumptions, am I right? They’re why you…” He trailed off, humor gone, and he turned quieter. “Not that you have much of anything right now, but…still…the mindset is what’s important, I guess.” He was silent for a moment. “I don’t know, I’m just - rambling, like always. Not even that you, that you care or anything, you're… I’m just…” He sighed again. “Whatever,” he said, “that’s been done over a thousand times, you don’t need that again. I don’t.” A pause. “Whatever. Log end.”
“January 4th, xx44, log 743.” He sounded regretful, or maybe hungover. “Hey Aria, it’s me - you know when you get really drunk and do something really stupid? At the New Year's party I kind of… well, I think I made out with someone, but it’s kind hard to remember. Ginger keeps teasing me about it but making sure no one hears, so maybe it was them? Or maybe they saw? But I don’t know…-”
Ethan pressed the fast forward button.
“-ne 15th, xx46, log 901.” He sounded tired in this one. “Hey Aria, it's… me. Always is. Just saying sorry, again. I never…” He paused, then groaned in frustration. “No, forget it, you know that. Well, if you listened to these, which I doubt you would even if you could. Just - forget this, it’s stupid, why do I ever -” he growled in frustration then said -“ log end.”
“November 26th, xx46, log 902.” Ethan knew this date. This was the date he- “Aria, hey. Sorry for the absence. Joined a new guild last week and just met my new team a bit ago - well, most of them. One or two were out running errands when I came in, so I guess I’ll meet them later. I’m in my new room right now and it’s - fitting. They say they decorate the room to the color of your aura, did you know that? - you probably did, you were smart like that. Well, after the room is yours, you can do whatever to it - some put up wallpaper or posters or just repaint - but that’s never really been my thing. I don’t even know what I’d change it to, anyways. Reminds me of home, if I’m honest - the blacks, the dark blues, the Henderson blue… the black wood or the dark wood or the oak wood… all it needs are some chandeliers, heads-down servents, the whips, and Father’s disapproving aura and boom, I’m back home.” He gave a small laugh without joy, then fell silent a moment. “I don’t like it,” he said finally, his voice small. “But what would I change it to, anyways? Not like I’ve known anything different…” There was a sound and some muffled talking. A pause. “Looks like I’ve got to go. Dinner, and all. Log end.”
“November 27th, xx46, log 903.” He sounded… shook, for lack of a better term. “Aria? Aria, I - I saw… Are you-? No, I’d know if you were, but… Aria, one of my new team members, one of the ones who were out doing errands last night, I could’ve sworn at first that she was… that she was you. It sounds weird to say that, and maybe even crazy, but Aria, she looks exactly like you do. Or, did. Do? Well, the point stands, she looks like you. I don't… I don’t know… I don’t know why, or how, or what’s even happening. I just… I don’t know. I…” He made sounds like opening and closing his mouth with no words coming out and several distressed noises, but ultimately said nothing for a few moments. Then he paused, sighed, and went on. “…Anyways, just… thought you should know, I guess. Log end.”
“November 30th, xx46, log 904. Aria,” he said bluntly, “I think I’m in love. Ok,” he backtracked, “well, that’s a bit much, more like…” he made a hum of mild distress, “it just sounds so childish to call it a crush, but… I mean I guess?? I don’t know, Aria, but it’s just I heard him - yes, him, I know, it’s a surprise to me, too - laugh and just sephram saints, Aria, I could swear the room was brighter when he did. I’m not kidding, I think the room was literally brighter when he smiled. He might be a light user? I think the file said one of my new teammates was a light user. Is it him?…”
Alexander had had a long day, and just wanted to rest. He’d just left the training deck and was completely exhausted, both physically and mentally - he could really use a shower. And a nap. Both sounded utterly fantastic to his aching muscles, and he headed to his room to do so (he didn’t like using the locker room showers - it was too public and anyone could walk in. Better to do so in the privacy of his own bathroom).
He saw a light from under his door. Rarely did he turn on the lights in his room (given that he was a shadow user, darkness was of no problem with the night vision), much less leave them on. Someone was in his room. Ticked off and annoyed, he walked a bit faster, assuming some political snoop was digging through his things (you’d be surprised at the lengths journalists would go to get a good story). He entered his room and his stomach dropped so suddenly that he thought it’d plummet to the first floor of the building.
“…Aria? Aria I fucked up, I fucked up really bad Aria. I don’t - I don’t know -”
Ethan McCain was sitting on his bed, his back facing the door, listening to the most personal thing he physically owned. Fear and panic built up in his chest, a coil winding around his lungs tighter than a noose, making it hard to breath, hard to think - the words he knows being the only thought echoing in his brain, bouncing like a ball off the walls. He strode - not thinking, not feeling - towards the tape.
Ethan remembered this day - December 1st, three years ago, the day where he declared to himself that he’d hate Alexander Henderson forever, a hatred which lasted until only two months ago when he -
Ethan hadn’t even heard him in the hall, hadn’t seen the overhead light turn off, but had heard the heavy thunk of boots near him and all of the sudden it was dark and getting darker as Alexander Henderson plucked the tape recorder from his hands and slammed it back in the chest. Ethan looked up to see his eyes large and his aura glowing through, colors of red and blue and white and gold among the flurry of black shadowy tendrils. He seemed taller, bigger than usual, fear the main emotion in his large, glowing eyes, and inspiring the emotion quite thoroughly in the observer.
Alexander growled - a deep, rumbling sound, barely even human.
In fact, Alexander didn’t even know if he had actually spoken in the first place. But the healer’s eyes widened, and didn’t need telling twice. He flew from the room, far away from Alexander, and Alexander was left alone.
“-mber that guy I told you about, the one with the smile and the brightness? I don’t know what I did - well, no, I do, I said something stupid and dumb and and mean, but I don’t know how - and oh saints Aria I fucked up, he hates me now, I fucked up Ar-”
Alexander closed the lid on the chest and the recording stopped. The room was silent save for his breathing, growing more panicked by the second. The coil around his chest was tightening, cutting into his lungs, making it hard to breath. He was shaking, shaking, his brain chanting he knows he knows he knows - he put a hand on the bedside table to steady himself, took a breath of air to calm himself… his knees gave out, his vision pulsing and swimming before him, his stomach lurching like he was about to vomit.
Oh joy, said a distant thought in the back of his brain, a panic attack. Just what we need.
The panic attack drowned out that voice pretty quick.
