Perfect. - RBH fic
ITS YA BOY BACK WIT ANOTHA ONE. ok so I’ve been holding off on rbhposting for a reason but as i said i HAVE been cooking. I’ve just been really burnt out over this au and my art and myself and yeah. a lot honestly. but I’ve been helped too. and thanks to the rp motivation i was hit by the shakespeare beam a few nights ago and spat this out somehow. i actually wrote the ending first and it all just clicked into place. anyway this is my favourite fic now. please enjoy and PLEASE speculate/interact/ask! :]
/actually don’t know what to tw this as but i feel like it should be something. it’s just generally offputting. please lmk what i should tag this with
Another day, another result. It had become all too familiar by now. It had started to etch into her mind, her fantasy, in the places that supposedly had no room to spare.
She had grown used to it by now. Used to it and over it and used to it and over it and used to it and over it and perhaps sick of it if she dared. The one thing she could not be sick of, whether she tried, was herself. Or him, to an extent.
He had been tolerable, if nothing else. He had been company, of which she both fortunately and unfortunately required. If he had not been, she would have either one, gone mad from isolation, or two, attempted several times. One of the two. Surely. Yet they seem nearly identical. Don’t they?
They had barely spoken out of the natural fear of pure embarrassment, but of course it would never be long for him to overcome it. He was bound, no, determined to break their respectful silence. It was only reasonable, after all. He greeted her, per usual. He greeted her. Per usual. He greeted h-
“Hello?” He snapped his fingers in a short, demanding movement. The little click snapped her out of her little memory trail, as was the point of him doing it. “I’m talking to you.”
“And I’m looking at you. What now?”
“You could at least say hi back. Get things going.”
“I did. Don’t you remember?”
“No? I’m literally right here.”
“Silly. Can’t remember a simple hi. Guess you’re still tired.”
“My memory is- …is great! And I am wide awake. Are you planning to join me in being wide awake?”
“Depends. Am I joining in on anything?”
“Yes!” He gave her that sly grin he does. The one that doesn’t read as cunning, but definitely reads as expecting. “We are to make some wonders todayyy!” He put emphasis on “wonders” with those tiny jazz hands, the ones not even they were sure they were performing correct.
“Wonders…?”
“Art. It’s- i- it’s art.”
Art. A wonderful thing. A gifted thing. A cherished thing. Art. Her pride and joy, wasn’t it? How could she possibly refuse? How could she ever turn away? She would never want to. Surely. Not for anyone. Not for anything in the bright, empty, desolate world. Not even her d-
“There’s us! Cmon!”
What are you waiting for?
She stood in front of the “canvas”. Empty. Prior to entering she had seen some of the others go by. Empty. Like the “canvas”. Like her hand. Empty. Despite their varied effort to make her feel welcome or something, they had never really felt like anything. Empty. They just stared at her with their discoloured eyes, waiting for hers to lose their shine. Little. Empty.
It was really just a wall. The “canvas”. But then again anything and everything is a canvas. Isn’t it? Isn’t this fun? Isn’t she happy? Isn’t this inspiri-
“I asked you something.”
“What?”
“I said isn’t this fun?”
“…Maybe???”
“Hmm.”
He shrugged off her stiff response. She wasn’t feeling it yet. She would. She will. If he can feel it so can she. But could he feel it? Would he? He would. He can. That’s what this is for, isn’t it? To help. To inspire.
He edged his tool against the wall, yearning for ideas. He was spiked with an urge to scrape the worn paint off of the canvas, to feel it nervously warp under his nails, to reveal the sure to be beautiful forgotten works underneath. He resisted. He did not feel like entertaining that, or rather, humiliating himself today. No. This was about her just as much as it was about him. About everyone. Together. Art.
…Even though it was only those two, plus two inspectors, in the room. The walls had been influenced time and time again by his friends, the unfamiliar ones. But now it was mostly stylised by his current ones. Each of their own beauty, but some could use improvement. Everything needs improvement. But they would improve. They would. He would. They were centred at a clear blank spot on the wall, staring back at them, waiting for them to do something. Do something. Create something. Be someth-
“Stuck?”
No. I’m good at this. You should be stuck.
“Same.”
Good thing he practiced in his head first. She would’ve taken it the wrong way. She always does.
He sucked his teeth in. He rehearsed. Here comes the part that everyone hates yet kind of doesn’t. He somewhat confidently shifted his gaze onto an inspector, thankfully far from them.
“Could I-“ Idiot. “Could we h- have a prompt, maybe?”
The inspector glanced at him and then the other inspector. “Sure.” She glanced at her clipboard. Nothing but a glance. Thankfully. “Cloud.”
“What kind of cloud-”
“No- we gotta make it up.”
“It would be helpful if I had a type of cloud.”
“Don’t worry about that! Just do whatever you can think of!”
She responded with a look followed by silence as her eyes turned back to the “canvas”. She’s thinking. That’s why she looks like that.
Cloud. Cloud Cloud Cloud Cloud Cloud. She could hear him muttering the prompt under his breath. Funny. She used to do that. He mumbled very weirdly, like he was almost afraid to. She could also hear the mumbles behind them. “Thought he had grown out of this habit by now.” “Suppose his attention span’s been stunned. Nothing that won’t work itself out.”
His eyes narrowed and his lip quivered. It did. She caught him. He did. She knew he did. He knew she knew he did. Yet neither said anything. For what purpose?
He rotated. Glanced around. Took in what some of the others had conjured up the other week. Cloud. Carefully skipped his gaze over and past the inspectors. Wouldn’t want to disrupt them. Cloud.
He let out a quick breath. There it was. What he was missing. He felt it. The urge. The need. He wondered if she felt it too.
She had gone. She was now in a corner further from him, looking at the remains of the other week’s assessment on another wall. Which was. A lot. At least some had bothered to put the work in.
“Uh. Y-”
She glanced at him.
He stopped himself. She’s not supposed to be there. But she is. She can. When was that ever a rule? He must have forgotten it. It must have been bad. “…Nevermind!”
She glanced back to the wall. Cloud. There were things. On the wall. Cloud. Someone had drawn them. Cloud. Someone had been here. Someone. A “friend”. A “friend” had been here. Drawing. She saw. She felt it. The time. The process. A “friend”. Cloud.
She got to work and focused. She thought. She did both. She had gotten used to both. She had gotten used to needless thoughts attacking her at the smallest of times. She got into her flow. It was tricky getting there but once in a flow it never really ended for her. She enjoyed it. She wouldn’t do it if she didn’t. She had no effort to give these people. It came together with relative ease.
He worked on his own result. He resisted the urge to peek at hers and invade her train of thought, but sometimes failed to resist completely, and as such, cursed himself every time. You’re to work alone. Have some self control. He repeated the command in his head. There’s nothing I can’t do. Or, his preferred version, there is nothing I cannot do.
They both gazed at their results. She had drawn a bunch of visions leaking into each other, but it was more than clear. There were a few noticeable things. Rain. Sun. A rainbow. Figures. Cheering. Or crying. It was hard to tell. It’s not like she knew either. She just let her wrist move. But she enjoyed it. Of course she enjoyed it. The wonderfully concerning ooze of pictures all leaked out of the very first image she had drawn. Clouds. A cloud. Cloud.
Meanwhile he had drawn something relatively similar to what he always did. Those large poofy obstructions he always saw. On the screen. He knew there were others, but they were admittedly too difficult for him. They looked too different. Too fake. He would not entertain that lie. At least not today. He had also, as per usual, doodled some things he had been reminded of. Little stars, dots and sprinkles of tiny insignificant symbols that stood out to him regardless.
He marvelled at her result. He had seen things like it, but not like it. The fact it was near incomprehensible for one put him off, but he didn’t mind. It came from her. Anything of hers was incredible. He was pressured with the urge to tackle her against the air and whip her round and round in a loving embrace. His limbs tensed. He didn’t. But he could’ve. He wanted to. He’ll get to. Eventually. It was inspiring. It was wonderful. It was-
Better than what you could do.
…Shut up.
He took notice of the observant figures behind them. His chest leaped. Had she done it right? He had done it right, of course. He would be useless if he hadn’t. But had she? He thought it was stunning. To him, it couldn’t be more perfect. But it wasn’t about what he thought, was it? It was about how well she performed. The standard, was it enough? Higher than his? Had she done enough? Was it good or bad? Right or wrong? Praised or punished?
It was neither. They were simply led out of one room and into the next without a word. His chest dropped. Closure would’ve been nice. But no one exists purely for closure, do they?
She sat down. He sat next to her. She shifted. Quite some energy had been extracted from her today. She could’ve treated herself with a small project if everything hadn’t seemed so null. Surely she would wake up tomorrow. Surely she w-
“That was wonderful!” He wrapped her, suffocated her, dragged her into a hug. At least it looked like one. It lasted a second, yet felt longer. It felt more. She felt more. She felt restrained. For that small, insignificant second, she entertained the thought of struggling. Luckily, he released her. Only to repetitively jiggle her by her shoulders. “You were great! I didn’t know you could do that! It was- you were- y- you’re… you are…”
What is she?
He did it again. He triggered that look. The one that ran up his back like an incision. He didn’t understand her. He had said the right thing. He had praised her. It was what she deserved. Praise. She wanted praise, didn’t she? If only he hadn’t released her.
She waited for him to let go of her. He did. She sighed in a hopefully non offensive way. He was only being nice, after all. His nice. He doesn’t get it. How could he? He never gets her, does he? She often wondered if he was even capable of such an absurd concept at all. Her mouth spelt out a quick “Thanks… it was nothing.” Was it? Or was it another moment? A gift?
His pupils near welded into hers. He, of course, was pleased. What else would he be? She was a similar emotion, yet not. The corner of her lip jerked. It did. He caught her. She did. He knew she did. She knew he knew she did. Yet neither said anything. For what purpose?
She shifted further with slight- Desperation? Dread? Pity? She couldn’t tell. She wasn’t in the mood. She wasn’t in the mood for anything. Not him. Not her. Not anyone. Not anything. Nothing. Stupid, restrictive nothing. She would wake up tomorrow. And she would be happy. She would be important. She would fight the urge. She would not-
Don’t try so hard. Your mind feels what it wants to. You don’t owe anything.
…Right.
…What was she? He couldn’t express. It was so easy, but he couldn’t express. It was so simple. She was so simple. So easy. Her face looked so soft. So gentle. Easy. Easier than most would have been. Her eyes… stung… but in a way he allowed. He would allow anything from her. He would discard how wrong it all felt if it meant her eyes would face his. Her mouth spoke things he couldn’t understand. Sometimes too nonsensical to consider. Sometimes too powerful to comprehend. He preferred her mouth when it was turned up. That smile of hers was devastating, enough to humiliate dozens. Enough to win him over, occasionally. But it was enough for him. Hopefully enough for them. Her smile was… His friend was… She was…
“Perfect.”
He said, in whatever the tier below a whisper is. But then again, what whisper could ever escape this young creature’s yearning curiosity, her near desperate obsession for some sort of false truth?
“What…?”
“…Nothing.”
And it would continue to be nothing.
omfg i don’t know what possessed me to like. write this. idfk i guess i just got really fuckin tired of being behind on the lore and procrastinating so here you go. a shit ton of lore to pick at while you wait :) /srs there’s like a SHITTT ton of implications and hints in here go wild COUGH ackhem
inspiration uhhh. my moots and the fandom in general. also the rp. a LOT of rp
i. just. really fucking love them im sorry i desperately needed to display their relationship as weirdly as possible to show the. weirdness. aspect of it YOU GET IT YALL GET IT OKAY. also i will confirm one thing tho. i didn’t plan it at the start but i purposely avoided any names in this entire thing to dehumanise them. they’re not people, they’re subjects. creatures. tests and limitations of the childish mind. COUGHHH wow that wind huh. that wind. oh wait almost forgot something hollup
just some notes i did while writing cuz i can teehee. i love my stupid little notes. + me getting hit with the shakespeare beam