reunion /6, eden
Mar 15, 2024 23:30:58 GMT -5
Post by ✌ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ on Mar 15, 2024 23:30:58 GMT -5
Avriel straightens slowly in front of him, shoulders that had been bent in concentration broaden and there's a subtle shift in expression, in both his face and his body.
It'd happened after 6 said 12's name.
6's head falls to the side the slightest bit, "Then you know?" he asks. He can't imagine what that feels like. It's not like he's ever tried to keep his upbringing a secret from his squad but it's also never occurred to him to tell anyone about it. There's not really all that much to say, they aren't special for what they went through. It's just life, it's the circle of it.
There's no point crying about it.
"He's not going anywhere with you," the victor says. The pliers fly up into the air, then back down again to land in his palm.
6 scoffs, "Why the fuck would I wa-"
12 explodes out of the front door and lands hard on the walk in front of Avriel. 6 reacts first, foot sliding back for a fast exit while he assesses, he opens his mouth but 12 doesn't leave any room to speak. He's crossing the space between them, hand raising, fingers curling inwards and 6-
glitches?
For a moment, there's a ceiling above his head. Shouting. (Loud roaring in his ears.) 12's hand, pulling back, fingertips bloody, dripping on the ground. Something rolls over the bottom lid of his eye. It's wet, like a tear, no, it's heavy. It's both of those things, it's wet and it's heavy and it's sliding off of his cheek. Lands on the ground at his feet, 6 almost steps on it as he slams his fist into the side of 12's face, feels his bone splinter beneath his hand.
Then pain, like steel beneath his skin, and blood.
SMACK.
12's closed fist hits 6's palm. The sky is back, brilliant blue and going darker as the sun sets to his left. The ceiling is gone. There's no shouting now, just the echo of it, always the echo of it. The memory of that place, the routine, is so ingrained into him that for a breif moment he squeezes 12's hand in his. That's the play, catch the fist, break the fingers, let go, swing, lights out.
But he doesn't do all that, he just lets go.
His other fist is already flying towards 6's cheek. He ducks, 12's knee is right there, he could kick it, send him crashing down, but he doesn't. It's not why he's here and this isn't the ring. This is a yard, he can hear chickens, he can hear the wind in the trees lining the street and sunlight still touches the top of his head, it's warm.
6 rises. This isn't how he wanted this to go.
"Quit it, 12," he says flatly as his foot slowly slides back again, "You punch like a triple digit, it's embarrassing."
Strange how naturally that old insult came out, like it hadn't been a lifetime ago the last time he'd said it. One look at 12 and it all comes back so easy.
That feels good when it shouldn't. Feels like warm yellow light in the mess hall, like the deck of cards that 10 stole out of Helix' desk and sugar packets as poker chips, like 5's voice under the covers after lights out.
Feels like home.