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 Posted: Fri Nov 18, 2011 4:11 am
Everything happened too fast.
It was something that Copeka had decided recently, had decided when the entire world that he'd known came crashing down on his head, buckling completely under the weight of itself and taking him with it. A soft cough fell past the boy's pouty purple lips, and slim fingers were raised, snaking upward and tugging fruitlessly at the bowtie that secured him in this suit. Left, right, up, down; no matter which direct he tugged the thing, it felt as though his mother had pinned it on him, though he knew that was not the case. Behind him, he heard the clatter and shuffling of things being moved. Everything important ( everything of daily importance, at least ) was in suitcases, strapped away to accompany them on a never-ending trip. They hadn't even been given an estimation for when they were to return to their single-story mansion. The couple couldn't be happier. The son couldn't bring himself to care either way, but he felt a pull of longing as he thought of the friends that he would be leaving here.
Methodically, the phone was slipped out of his pocket, the screen unlocked, and Copeka checked once more to be sure that the message sent. 'Hurry over.' Nothing more, nothing less. Damien didn't need anything more than that, anything less. Though he understood, further as he aged, just what a burden his father had placed on the wrath boy as a child, the jumbled hybrid was sure that the teenager cared about him. In a way, he wondered if this were a latent paternal instinct, considering the way that Damien behaved around his son. However, that seemed of little relevance as he watched what he knew of his life get boarded onto a larger-than life van parked in front of their house.
"Are you alright, 'Peka?" came his father's familiar voice, accompanied by the dull thud of his third leg, this one a simple candycane shaped piece of wood, fitting along with his father's modest spending, though perhaps not fitting his less-than-modest tastes. The nickname that came was not the usual one Aludra used for him, 'Copy' having been discarded as Copeka steadily lost everything that made him less than a crude copy of a human being. He knew his parents thought the name hurt. It did hurt, the way the kids said it. But he would give anything if his parents would stop treating him any differently.
"Fine," there was no doubt that his voice was dull when he spoke, even to his own ears. Nothing could change it, and nothing had. Each week since the accident, it was the same therapist, trying to find a way to crack and emotionless wall that they said resulted from trauma. Each week brought more physical therapy; learning again how to walk, learning again how to write. Draped against the couch, red-rimmed eyes found the wall clock, and there they remained, focus centered on every tick-tick-tick of the second hand, each one ticking off another second that he wouldn't be able to spend with some semblance of a friend.
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Posted: Fri Nov 18, 2011 5:22 pm
Of course Damien responded instantly.
The news of the crash had been something out of a nightmare. Just like that, two of his favorite people in the world were almost destroyed, simply by driving down the street. Since then, he'd been 'on call' 24/7, ready to run to the hospital or the apartment with anything that the family needed, anything that Copeka needed. He'd been there through the extensive rehabilitation process, through the physical and emotional therapy, bearing the family's burden like it was his own. Which it was, in a way; though Damien had perfectly loving fathers in both Cat and Fifth, no one treated him more like family than the By'arres.
But now they were leaving him. That was the first bitter, selfish thought as Damien finally reached the penthouse, staring in shock at the taxi waiting outside, at the luggage already piled up on the curb. Was... Was this it? The man who's life he'd single-handedly saved, the child he'd cared for since his tumultuous birth, the woman who always had a place for him at the table - there were just going to vanish? Even if he had wanted to, lethal coils of black rage began to twist in his heart, and his hands were tight clenched fists as he stormed through the house. It didn't matter. He'd still go see Copeka.
One more time.
"Oh, Damien!" came the sound of Lirona's melodious voice from the kitchen, where she was packing up the last few things. "What a surprise, we had no idea- oh, do you want something to drink, perhaps?"
In a rare moment of outright rudeness, Damien ignored her, instead making a beeline for the tragically draped young man on the couch, locking those lifeless eyes with his. Just looking at Copeka - once so bright, so bubbling and happy - made his eyes prickle with sharp tears, but he forced himself to keep his emotions in check. He wasn't here to be angry, he was here to help. "What's up? What's going on?"
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Posted: Sat Nov 19, 2011 1:24 am
Everything was disappearing.
His peace of mind gone with the crash. Emotions? gone. The labs? vanished. Control of his life? an illusion.
And as Damien walked through the front door of a house that they'd barely lived in since he was a toddler, Copeka's heart tore, and he wished for nothing more than the ability to cry, to express all the pain and torment that was raging away inside of him. Everything that he felt about the way his parents were packing him up like luggage and taking him away from everything he'd known. All of his friends, all of his relatives... and Damien. Above all, more than anything, he wished that they weren't taking him away from Damien.
Not the smallest slivers of speech escaped his lips as he pulled himself upright, tossing his legs over the side of the couch and getting to his feet, crossing the distance between both of them in only a moment. Copeka never saw boundaries between himself and other people, and Damien was no exception to that rule. The young man had been changing him when he was in diapers, after all, any boundaries they might have had were broken by that point. On tiptoe was the only way that Copeka could wrap his arms entirely around Damien's shoulders, and he did, burying his face against his collar and staying silent for a long while, quietly trembling against his babysitter-turned-friend.
"...we're leaving," came the words, finally; a short, bitter statement. The upset, even if he could show none of it, oozed from him, thickening the tension in the room. He shook his head, slowly slipping back down to stand, flat-footed on the ground, forehead placed gently in the center of Damien's broad chest. "They're getting famous. They won't let me stay here. They're taking me with them. They're taking me with them even if I don't want to go."
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Posted: Sat Nov 19, 2011 1:51 am
"Wh-What?"
The syllables fell clumsily from Damien's mouth, shattering the mounting tension within the apartment. For a moment, he almost laughed, convinced this was all just some... extensive prank by the universe. They couldn't be leaving. That- That was impossible, where would they- But how- They would have told him! his mind screamed to itself, all while he stared blankly at Copeka, the panic hidden behind shocked eyes. He forced the child to look at him, scouring his expression for any hint of a lie - but of course there was none, considering the boy's golden eyes had become as lifeless as golden coins since the accident. To his horror, Damien felt himself trembling. That couldn't, couldn't be true; they would have told him...
'No, they wouldn't have.' A voice, small and clear and thoroughly sinister spoke in his ear as the teenager shifted his shocked gaze towards Aludra, awkwardly pretending to have something to do in the corner. As he watched his friend avoid his gaze, Damien realized that his Wrath's cruel, simple assertion was true. Of course they wouldn't have told him, neither of them. They'd be too afraid - even now, they were too afraid to admit to their lie. They were just going to vanish in the night, leaving him adrift with unasked questions, unsoothable worries. After all, to notify him would be something responsible, and since when did the airheaded spawn of the rich even factor such a concept into their equations? No, better to sneak away, no better than criminals..!
It took all of the demonic youth's self control to keep from snarling, but he managed it - he didn't want to startle Copeka. Someone had to think about his feelings. So with a shaky sigh, Damien turned back to look at his young friend, the boy he'd helped raise. His mouth opened hesitantly, but no words of encouragement came out, and he closed it quickly, choosing instead to simply wrap his arms around the vacant child, biting deeply into his own lip as he whispered bitterly. "I'm so sorry... I- If they had told me- You'll call me. Every day. No matter what time. You'll be okay." Those last three words repeated in a continuous cycle under his breath, as if saying them enough could make him believe it.
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Posted: Sat Nov 19, 2011 3:47 am
The shock that rippled through Damien was something that Copeka expected. What he hadn't expected was first being moved away, blinking heavy eyelids in response to the insistence of eye contact, wondering exactly what the teenager hoped to find behind the empty windows to the dispassionate void of his soul. The second blink was lazy, the slightest of shrugs to a faint twinge of lustful impatience, wanting a return of the contact that was to be rescinded by his imprudent parents with this move, with no promise of ever being able to feel it again.
Finally, the contact was returned, and Copeka let the warmth of the embrace soak through his skin. Something to cherish and remember, something that he prayed he could call to mind well enough to comfort himself. The words, sweet as they were, did nothing but to fill the boy with more dread. So often -too often- his parents had relied on Damien to take care of him. Damien who now knew more about Copeka's various medical problems than either parent. Damien who knew more about his medical history, his preferred doctors, his millions of allergies. Damien was the only one who had managed to keep him in this good a state for so long.
What would he do if that was gone?
Trembling wracked his form even further at this point, and the expected pain clutched at his chest as panic set in. The movements to his inhaler were pre-programmed, and he went through them like a robot, made only more unreal by the emptiness in those golden eyes. Though it was no kind of ordeal, Copeka could feel the burning of his parents' eyes on him, drawn the instant that he shook the small canister. Refusing to satisfy them with even a glance backward, he wrapped a hand around Damien's and tugged him up the stairs, to a room that held everything that meant nothing to him.
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Posted: Sat Nov 19, 2011 4:30 am
Damien's heart burned as he felt Copeka bury himself in his arms, his bond to the boy overtaking him completely. This couldn't be happening to them. They wouldn't have even gotten a chance to say goodbye... This despair was only exacerbated by the all-too-familiar sound of Copeka's asthma, but unlike his parents, the demonic young man didn't feel the need to stare, simply hold the boy a bit softer. Because he could tell the difference between a bad attack and a good one.
Being led to Copeka's room was a welcome treat, and likely for the best - there was no certainty that Damien could stand being in that room without attacking Aludra or Lira, at least verbally. Didn't the blatant unfairness mean anything to them? His hand remained around the boy's like a vise, reluctant to let go even when the door was shut (and locked) behind him. Before Copeka could do anything, Damien had tugged him back into that embrace, burying his face in the child's soft hair in an effort to memorize his scent, his texture.
For a long minute or two all was silent. Finally, a soft, weighty whisper left Damien's mouth. ...how long will you be gone?"
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Posted: Sun Nov 20, 2011 2:03 am
Copeka loved being there.
Wrapped up so tightly, with every part of his body held with every perfect amount of care, any bump and bruise avoided, any sensitive spots left untouched. Nothing about the embrace was awkward, nothing tense, no sense of shame and self-loathing for him to quietly analyze. He hated being around his parents. He hated how they couldn't just pretend that he was the same as he always was, had never been differently before. He hated how they couldn't even pretend that they thought that way.
In private, Copeka's impulses were crushed into nonexistence, face buried against his muscular friend, glad to inhale deeply the scent that had guided him stoically through the rockiest parts of his child. Memories flooded his mind and the desperate wish to cry became even more powerful, making powerful tremors vibrate from the core of his being to his extremities, though not a single sob passed his lips. Just silent, faint shivers in the hopes of summoning tears.
The question only stacked more pain onto the load he carried already, and he squirmed from Damien's grip, knowing that his newly-gained muscle had only made the elder Humility angel more careful than he was before. He pulled him to the hoard of pillows and stuffed animals that made up his bed, positioning him against them before burying himself like a puzzle piece against his ex-babysitter's warm chest. "They... don't know. Probably more than six months, they told me. More than six months, less than two years. Hopefully less than two years. Maybe less than two years..."
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Posted: Sun Nov 20, 2011 3:52 am
If only the door behind them could remain locked forever. If only there weren't other responsibilities that both of them had to attend to; if only they actually only needed each other. Then Damien's heart wouldn't be quivering with a panicked sorrow, making him afraid to sit still. Who knows how much time they had left together before this lengthy separation? Minutes? Seconds? All the things that he had ever wanted to stay built up in his throat, making him mute as he was led without complaint to Copeka's soft nest. Not even a hint of a blush was conjured when the boy nuzzled up against him so; the demonic teenager was too depressed to even be embarrassed.
"...so you'll be almost all grown up next time I see you. That'll be a trip." Despite himself, Damien laughed humorlessly. This was just surreal. Surreally stupid.
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Posted: Sat Dec 10, 2011 9:57 pm
Copeka wanted to cry. More than anything did that poor boy want to curl into a helpless, self-protecting, defensive ball and cry his eyes out. For each and every tear that Damien worked to blink back, Copeka ached to cry dozens. It was no surprise, then, that he shifted himself upon his newly-chosen roost, pressing the palm of one of his small, purple-skinned hands upon Damien's cheek, red-rimmed eyes meeting the heterochromatic sort with the deepest pain that the lust boy could express.
"...please..." he mumbled, before realizing what it is he wanted to ask. How silly something like that would sound. More likely than not, it would have made more sense if he explained it. But even then... It's not like it mattered. Whether he explained himself or not, whether it was stupid or not, whether or not Damien even listened to him, it wasn't like it would matter a few hours from now as he watched the world pass by from the posh and dressy glorified trailer that would become his home for... for too long.
"...please c-cry, Damien..." he said softly; a pitiful, desperate request from a boy who couldn't feel. But his point was proven, and he dropped himself back into the crook of Damien's shoulder, resting his small body half on top of the wrath demon. "For me... please cry, because I'll miss you, and I'll miss here, and I don't want to leave; not here, not you, not my friends... I want to cry. It... it hurts inside a-and I wish that... that I could cry out the hurt..." he babbled, struggling around the words, trying to make what he wanted to say known, understandable, yet without inflection or feeling, the words felt meaningless as they hit the air, like a mannequin asking you to wear her clothes to a bar. A fever dream, at best. Silencing himself and his mindless babble, the blank child buried his face again in Damien's chest, dreading the moment that he would be able to hear footsteps upon the floor outside.
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