Aster smiled, the other’s worried tone as he went blabbering on … haha, reminded him a bit of before. How Richter had tried to get him to stop doing certain things because it would ‘get him hurt’ in the end. One of which was actually hanging out with the half-elf! Like he would even consider that … Tch— “Listen, Richter, I’ll be fine.” There was a clench of teeth as gloved hands went to find his hair and green eyes were hidden from him. There was this confusion as the soft mumble escaped Richter. Aster himself growing worried, lifting himself up from the other side of the table to tap Richter on the head before pulling his hand away with a smile. “I haven’t changed, so there’s no need for worrying!”
The only response he got from Richter, was that of a saddened stare.
Did he… say something wrong?
It had been an accident. Sword and axe in both hands as Aster tried to hold back his grievance of the need to fight. Moving carefully across the field (though he wasn’t much for sneaking) and brought out his stun gun. Pushing the weapon forward and touching the monster’s skin, the thing straightening harshly as the sparks silhouetted the things frame before it fell to the ground.
What the scientist didn't notice, as Richter pulled up, glasses splashed with a spray of blood, pupils dilating, hand moving forward as the axe dropped from fingers, was the bandit. The one who had come with the monster ... Aster looked confused, shifting to turn behind to see what had gotten Richter so riled up about when a feeling of something entering through his stomach, tearing organs and slipping between ribs. Eyes widened in surprise as his mouth gaped.
Again.
He hadn't changed one bit, had he? A scream cut what had been a silence of pounding blood. One of rage, toil, grief, disbelief. Aster didn't know who it was coming from, until he felt his lungs empty and realized it wasn't Richter.
It was him. He was screaming, why was he screaming?
Richter was staring, Aster himself moving forward, inward on the sword as he tried to breath, the intakes of breath awkward as his hands wrapped around the other's shoulders and he dragged the bandit to his face. "I can't leave him again." It was a statement, breathy and horrible as his legs began to buckle.
The way he was ... the way he was, he was beginning to lose consciousness, "I can't leave him like this again." It was a whisper now as his grip loosened and the boy stumbled, shifting backwards and forwards on his heels before collapsing on top of the man, weighing him down.
A sword sticking through his back, blood dripping from his lips, he could now hear the faint sounds of Richter's voice and his head turned. Tears were stinging his eyes as he stared at the red-head.
His hair ... it was always red. Like blood the blood that ran through his veins. Pulling him free of the weapon, the bandit stumbled, weight now off scampering away through the trees as the half-elf just cradled Aster in his arms. The boy's head teetered inward, resting against Richter's chest. His breathing slowing, just slightly as he felt welt droplets hitting his cheek.
Glancing up, the only thing Aster wanted to do now, now he couldn't change anything ... was make him smile. "Hey... I told you, I haven't changed at all." The words were spoken weakly, as a finger lifted, brushing back red hair, a sleeve catching his glasses and smudging the blood slightly. "And... you really need to clean that..."
Richter was staring as the researcher just whispered soft, soft words. Of all the things Richter should do, how it would be alright how nothing really changed and how things were going to be, just like those weeks ago. When he'd met that sadened glare, but now, as his vision was fading -- "I ... I can't even see your face..." He mumbled.
But he could feel the tears. His arms lifting up, cupping the man's cheeks as he brought the half-elf down and kissed his forehead. "You've mourned me once... it's okay."
And a warm hand captured one of Aster's, keeping it close to his face but not saying anything. Eyes closed tightly as a kiss was pressed to the other's fingers before his body went lax.
The tears continued streaming down his face as he held the cooling hand within his grasp. "This...this isn't what I meant, you idiot." It was spat between his crying, arms moving to tighten around the cold body once more, kiss that hand one more time ... "You...stupid, stupid, genius human..."
It wasn’t something that was expected. The reminder, again and again how they were not friends only to be brushed off by Emil, not minding the other’s dismissal because there was this connection between the two. Even if the half-elf refused to see it, Emil knew it to be true and didn’t mind it one bit. However, this … this had pulled him away from the reality which he’d thought for so long to be true.
Gloved hands wrapped around his shoulders and a flash of red hair brushing over his eyes caused the boy to blink in surprise. Twisting, just enough, to see the glasses and outline of Richter’s face before he was shoved into the gulf of water. Pushed and held down, hands piercing water, droplets clinging to cloth and cloth clinging to skin as Emil kept his mouth tight-lipped, eyes wide. Body moving, struggling horribly beneath the surface before he finally seemed to get a break.
A grip loosened and Emil took it, forcing himself above the surface as he tried clambering away from the half-elf. Pupils dilated as he turned, staring at Richter, coughing, coughing hard. Spit, stream-water and snot all streaming down his face as hair remained stuck to his forehead. “R-Richter…?” The voice sounded choked, unsure of what to think of this. Because that was not Emil’s typical stutter that most found so endearing. No, this was a stutter forced from water that slid down lungs and burned his throat.
What was he to do? His hands were shaking and now, it was clear for all to see.
The cloth that hung usually so tightly about his neck now hung loosely, wet and sopping, bruises from an abusive uncle, the small man seemed much, much smaller now. Like a shaking deer caught in headlights, unable to decide whether it needed to bolt before the car struck or just sit there dumbly.
“Rich…ter…?” It was a whisper, and the water that dripped from his hair down his face made it difficult, very difficult to find out whether or not he was crying before the boy pushed himself up, scrambling, feet slipping on wet stones as Richter’s shocked expression slowly turned to his hands. Twitching wet digits now unsure of what they were trying to do.
