“I look in people’s windows, transfixed by rose golden glows.”
Note: So what I went for here was emotional isolation. I mean, he’s physically isolated from Subaru right now, but then while he’s physically close to Horobi, he’s emotionally isolated, and the Ark just… is the Ark. And Ikazuchi is such a social butterfly, he’s just so good with people, and now he’s with someone he does really care about but… the person he cares about just isn’t really there.
***
Ikazuchi tightened a screw that didn’t need tightening, before dropping the screwdriver out of habit. It clattered against the concrete floor, and he froze, hand still hovering in the air, eyes fixed on the tool where it lay. Subaru would have laughed at that. He always did, always amused by his brother’s adjustment to life on the ground. But now, the clatter of the tool was met with silence.
He didn’t bother picking it back up. The last of his focus had already drained, leaving his half-finished work in front of him nothing more than a tangle of parts and wires. Whatever drive he's had to repair it slipped away in the silence that followed. So he sat there instead, legs folded beneath him on the cold floor, his gaze drifting until it settled on the wall opposite him.
The door eased open with barely a sound, and movement stirred at the edge of Ikazuchi’s vision. Horobi entered as if pulled forward by some invisible force, with a distant look that did not match his stride. For the briefest second, when his eyes met Ikazuchi’s, it was as though he was hollow. As if he’d walked into a room and immediately forgotten what he was doing there, but continuing regardless.
Ikazuchi looked down at the abandoned device. It wasn’t even important really. But he was the one who’d kicked it off the table in frustration, and more importantly, it kept his hands busy.
“I, uh… I’m pretty sure I’ve already voided the warranty on this thing. Don’t suppose you fancy helping me make it worse?”
Horobi’s steps slowed, then stopped altogether, as if needing just those extra few seconds to realise he was being spoken to. And for a moment, he stood very still, before turning his head ever so slightly.
“I do not believe you require such assistance.”
Ikazuchi huffed out something like a laugh, but not quite. “Yeah, that’s fair.”
Horobi’s gaze lingered just a fraction too long, before he shifted away silently, intent on following whatever the Ark had demanded from him now.
“Wait! Just-”
Ikazuchi pushed himself to his feet, hand lifting instinctively towards Horobi, though he stopped short of actually making contact. Still, the motion was enough to make Horobi halt mid-step, and turn back to him.
“You…”
Ikazuchi’s throat tightened. He couldn’t stand it, all this emotion, all this heartbreak. It was simply too heavy, too unbearable. Too brutal. So he forced a grin, and let much lighter and safer words come out.
“You can’t just… walk out on me after insulting my repairing skills like that.”
“I did not intend to insult you.”
Ikazuchi shook his head. “Yeah, no, I didn’t mean-”
“Your methods are unconventional, and at times… chaotic. But you excel at tasks of this nature. To imply otherwise would be… deceitful.”
Ikazuchi’s smile faltered, and his mouth opened, then closed again. Finally, he forced himself to speak.
“Well… that was certainly one hell of a glowing review.”
Horobi’s gaze drifted past Ikazuchi then, and onto the screwdriver laying haphazardly on the floor.
“It seems your persistent battle with gravity endures.” He looked back at Ikazuchi. “It should know better than to fight you.”
Ikazuchi blinked, his breath catching in his throat, and for a moment, he almost laughed for real this time. But before he could verbally respond, Horobi had turned, and exited.
Ikazuchi stayed there, staring at the space Horobi had left behind. The ghost of a smile slipped away as he sank back onto the cold concrete. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, holding back the laugh, or maybe the sob, that clawed at his throat.
