Chapter Text
Red
Red represents many things.
Blood, love, fear, desire. Energy... excitement.
Red represents feeling everything to the fullest, the intensity of experiencing everything at its limit. The desire to feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins and your hair standing on end.
The intensity of doing and taking risks, the heat in anger, the brilliance of the fire dancing and consuming. The light of the sunset.
It carries love when love hurts, warmth when it has turned into fever. It's the tone, it's the mistake, and also the persistence.
It is what many call the color of strength and courage. It is what leaves its mark in an unforgettable way, as it still leaves traces of its presence and existence.
What many might call dangerous, or welcoming.
Perhaps they are the same thing. But...
"Red suits you well,"
"Seven"
. . .
. .
.
He wakes up with a start in the same spot. His mind goes into a momentary shock, which makes his eyes widen as if he'd seen a ghost. He blinks once, twice. The morning air seems more tense than it should be.
It takes him a few seconds to remember he's breathing. The sound of his own breath fills his ears, his breath held until he feels safe, his heart calms itself, tranquility returns. His breathing returns to normal, and he lets out a long, deep sigh. He turns to the window before immediately regretting it, raising his arm to block the light from his poor eyes, begging for mercy.
Outside, the birds break the silence as if the world were still normal. As if they wanted to pretend what was false and eradicated in this false and dull world. At least the light brought some security, that time wouldn't stand still for long. Which makes the old clock tick slowly, in a repetitive and irritating rhythm on the worn wall of the room. Singing the passing seconds, and he was still in bed, unwilling to move a muscle. He feels the light from the window invade the whole room and illuminate his own face, making him groan in irritation.
The light that enters through the broken window passes through the air in thin, pale, almost white, transparent streaks.
A sun that pretended to be morning. Or tried to, it doesn't matter.
He lay still, his mouth slightly dry and his eyes beginning to complain about the insistent light. The longer it went on, the more the mattress seemed to sink even further at the sides, the rough fabric scratching his skin to the point of irritation. Well, it was better than lying on the floor, I guess.
His whole body complains of small aches and pains that he now recognizes as normal: a stiff shoulder, a sore back, a burning leg muscle just from existing. Running and surviving has its physical costs in addition to the mental ones, but what could he do?
He closes his eyes for the last time before opening them fully awake and turns to face the ceiling. The wooden ceiling stares back at him.
The veins of the oak tree spread out in a confused pattern, with small cracks and old stains. Admiring them as an unknown work of art was a pastime for him when he lay in bed.
He follows a line with his gaze until he loses the trace. He repeats the gesture, again and again, without thinking.
He moves his arm and ruffles his tangled hair. He knew he had to get up, even though his bed was begging him to stay and remain lying down. Today would be another day of struggle, and he had to be prepared until then. New plans, new strategy, interaction...
Ugh, it's still too early to think about that. (Come on, 007n7, you can do it. All you had to do was get ready, go downstairs and have breakfast, that's all.) The command forced the body to get up and go do things.
It takes a while for the body to accept the invitation to move. He stretches and yawns loudly, the bed creaking as he sits up, and his muscles respond like ropes pulled too tightly. The floor was too cold, but he ignores it. He puts on the same clothes as always. Blue fabric, old but comfortable, a faint smell of wood and dust. He runs his hand over his face to try to shake off the remaining tiredness, but it only spreads the feeling.
In the bucket, the water has already lost its morning sparkle. He wets his hands, rubs his face, and feels the shock of the cold trickle down his neck.
His skin tingles, and he feels awake enough to start the day.
The door opens with a dry click, and footsteps are followed by the creaking of old, hollow wood. The path to the main cabin is short, but long enough for him to hear the chattering voices from the kitchen to the living room.
He can hear everything: conversations, laughter, and the clinking of plates. All from a distance, and yet he enters silently, without making a sound.
When he enters, the warmth of the room envelops him like an old friend, and the smell like a warm embrace. The strong smell of coffee and something burnt echoes through the air, along with the murmur of chairs being dragged and the squeaking of shoes. He tries to be as invisible as possible when entering the kitchen, but in the end he receives a few discreet glances.
Luckily, no one looks at him for more than a second. Or they don't even notice when he had entered; he prefers it that way. It's better to continue what you're doing than just stare at him standing in the corner of the room doing nothing. He waits patiently until it's his turn to have coffee; it's much better to be alone than to bother someone with his presence.
The table is almost empty. Used mugs are scattered and crumbs are scattered across the tabletop. In the corner, the coffee has lost its steam, and yet he pours the rest, the dark liquid reflecting his face for a moment before disappearing into the thin foam.
He drinks slowly. The taste is bitter, lacking flavor, too lukewarm. But he forces himself to swallow; in the end, his body thanks him, or pretends to. It doesn't matter, he already had enough energy.
As he finished, he thought about what today's matches would be like. Morning and after lunch, as always. He stared out the living room window, letting his mind wander aimlessly, ignoring everything around him.
The sound of conversations still lingered in the air, though quieter now, still vivid enough to force its presence. He thought about leaving and going back to his room; there was nothing interesting to do in the morning, and he wasn't particularly interested in doing anything, until he took two steps and heard a call.
“Hey, 007n7!”
The name cut through the silence of the cabin, directly at him. He blinked in surprise at his name, his head slowly turning towards Chance, who was calling him from across the room, his face half-illuminated by the oblique light coming through the tall windows.
He froze.
His stomach seemed to recoil slightly, as if he'd been caught doing something wrong, even though all he did was exist. Quiet in his corner.
Chance, without knowing it, smiled carefree, that kind of confident smile that was too good for that time of the morning.
"Are you skipping breakfast again?"
007n7 took a while to respond. His gaze darted from Chance to the figure beside him, Shedletsky.
Shedletsky leaned against the table, arms crossed, listening to the previous conversation with a half-smile, that familiar smile that had never left his face until today, even trapped in this godforsaken place. His gaze met 007n7's for a brief moment, but he said nothing. Or perhaps he didn't want to convey anything through it. He swallowed hard, the bitter taste of the morning still lingering in his mouth, and 007n7 began to sweat nervously.
What could he answer? He wasn't used to conversations like this in the mornings, especially with someone who wasn't a guest (even though they were few and short). And the silence was making the air start to feel strange. He had to say something soon.
"Ah— I just... thought you were already finished...?" His voice came out low and scratchy, almost as if he were apologizing for being in the middle of the conversation.
Chance laughed. "Finished? It never ends here. Sit down, man. Shed was saying some things that might interest you."
Shedletsky raised an eyebrow, neither denying nor confirming. "Just some nonsense. But you can listen if you want. I don’t bite, if that’s what you’re worried about." The answer came out as a friendly complication, playfully teasing him, which required him to laugh awkwardly in return. Well, 007n7 had hoped it was a joke (and not a warning…)
007n7 stood still. One second, two. His head told him to refuse politely, or discreetly, or quickly. But his body didn't move.
The silence between the three weighed heavily enough to make it an answer, much to 007n7's misfortune.
Chance pushed a chair with his foot, the scraping of the furniture scratching the floor. "Come on, man. I swear we don’t bite. Just Shed, once in a while."
"Hey!" Shedletsky raised his mug in a lazy but amused gesture. "Gratuitous defamation, that’s what it is." 007n7 nervously approached slowly, with measured steps.
While Chance smiled, Shedletsky just watched in silence. 007n7 was sweating profusely just from being near them, especially the administrator. He swallowed hard.
When he sat down, the chair made a dull thud. 007n7 shuddered as the sound seemed to echo in the place where they were.
The distance between the three seemed too small, the warm air of the room still carrying the scent of old coffee and damp wood. But they didn't care about that in the slightest.
"So... how are you doing, Seven?" Chance rested his chin on his hand, his tone too casual to be genuinely curious.
“Um. Well, I guess?” The answer sounded more like a question; he scratched the back of his neck, looking at his own empty mug. "I don’t usually do much in the morning. I prefer… to stay in my room."
The pause at the end sounded like doubt, not a confession.
Chance chuckled. "I see, the mysterious guy. Always alone, always thinking about… I don’t know, secret codes? Hacker strategies? Anything you get, I guess." 007n7 shuddered in disapproval at the mention of hacking, which led him to shake his head negatively at Chance. "No! I don’t do— that anymore. I’m not much of a thinker when it comes to mornings, hum."
"More like... naps and silence." Shedletsky finished, lazily stretching his wings with a slight snap. "But hey, respect. There are days when Chance’s noise is enough to tire anyone out. Elliot has a patient blessed by the gods to put up with that guy."
"Uhg, here we go" Chance feigned offense, hand on his chest in a dramatic performance. "I’m great to talk to. I’m like… the perfect companion for social interactions, a complete vitamin!"
"Expired vitamin. Cough." Shedletsky retorted in an emotionless tone. A smirk disguised as he feigned a cough between his fists.
Chance's laughter was loud enough to wake whoever was in the room. 007n7 let out a smile, too quick to be noticed. Chance finishes laughing and looks at him, smiling slightly, the morning light reflecting in his sunglasses.
"Hey, you don’t have to shut up, Seven!" Chance said. "I promise we’re cool…except for Shed, of course." Shedletsky just rolled his eyes at that.
"No, I— I’m just listening." His voice came out too timidly; he was trying to hide his nervousness. "I like listening."
"Look at that~" Shedletsky raises his arms behind his head, carelessly leaning all his weight against the back of the chair, tilting slightly backward. "A wise man among us. Speaks little, listens much, I didn’t know you were like that, haha"
Chance rolled his eyes, but laughed. "Roughly speaking, he's afraid of us. Man, we're not that bad, you know"
“That’s not it! I promise, it’s not fear.” 007n7 shook his head strongly, his lips trembling in a half-smile. "I just… I’m not good at talking."
"Even better!" said Chance. "You can have a conversation with someone who doesn’t try to win you over with talk."
"Winning by talking?" Shedletsky crossed his arms. "You talk as if anyone here takes you seriously."
"It's because nobody has any taste!"
The argument continued for a few more minutes, with taunts and muffled laughter. 007n7 just stood there, listening, without commenting, simply existing.
The conversation drifted like a distant radio, and 007n7 just sighed thoughtfully, his hand on his lap. He really wasn't good at this sort of thing. But it didn't matter, he was fine as he was.
He just hoped that everything would go well that day.
Huff huff... he braced himself with his own body weight to avoid falling, his uninjured arm firmly gripping the deep wound of his more severely injured arm. The cut wouldn't stop bleeding, and he had to stifle a groan to avoid making a sound.
Huff huff... the ground was damp. Drops of blood mingled with the wet, damp grass. One step, two, gasping breath, the distant crackle of something unknown. The heart beat too fast, and the body no longer obeyed properly.
His hands were trembling. Hot blood trickled down his forearm to his wrist.
"Damn it..." I murmured, but my voice came out weak, too weak for anyone to even hear.
He should have been faster.
He should have seen the coup coming.
He should be better than that.
His shoulder throbbed, each movement opening the cut further. The pain was familiar, yet still unwelcome. And this pain was the kind that comes with something else, guilt.
The guilt of being alive, again, and again.
The map was a blur of shadows. The air smelled of dampness and old rain, and he stopped to lean against a wall, trying to think. His feet made noise in the mud. Everything seemed too far away.
“Just a little more—” I murmured, even without knowing who it was for. He looked at the countdown on the C00lgui screen, and there were only a few seconds left until the match ended. His breath came out in a long, suspended sigh, too tense to breathe properly. His shoulders relaxed a little in those blessed seconds that remained in the match.
Suddenly there was a sound, a heavy, menacing, metallic scratching sound. 007n7 tensed up again and held his breath.
They were close.
The killer.
007n7 felt his whole body stiffen and his stomach churn. The veins throbbed in his neck and the still-fresh blood continued to flow. He wanted to run, but his body... wouldn't move. he was in too much of a panicked state to move.
The blade grazed the air before he could think. He tried to throw himself to the side, but the blow grazed him, opening another gash in his arm. The impact made him fall, the ground receiving his weight with a dull thud.
His vision flickered and everything spun for a moment. His head throbbed from the impact.
Lying on the ground, he couldn't help but notice the presence slowly approaching him, now looming menacingly over him. When the dark silhouette rose above him, 007n7 could only think how pathetic he must look. On his knees, breathing as if air were a luxury.
That's when something stopped the assassin from taking his last breath in 007n7. A flash, along with the metallic sound of impact, and the blade deflected, sending sparks flying in the dark.
"Retreat, 007n7."
His voice was firm, hoarse from effort, and with a hint of hidden amusement. Shedletsky.
He moved between 007n7 and the assassin, his wings half-open, his own sword sparkling with the reflection of the pale light against the 1x1x1x1 sword along with the shrill sound of friction. The assassin growled in irritation, and shifted his body weight to fight against the administrator's sword, causing a clash of forces between swords. The cracked ground reflected red stains and the air vibrated with the clash of sword against sword.
“I—”
"Now, Seven. Go."
I tried to get up, my arm burning, blood staining the fabric of my shirt. But I stayed there, half upright, half slumped, watching.
He held the assassin as if nothing else existed. A movement, a turn, wings cutting through the wind. The rage in those blows seemed so ancient, controlled by habit. And all I could think was that I must be helping.
Something should be done.
But my heavy body wouldn't move. Not at all, and that caused frustration. A lot of it.
The scene gradually distorted, the sound muffled, the vision blurred. Shedletsky pushing the enemy away, the quick flash of the blade cutting through the air.
007n7 took a deep breath, tasting the metallic flavor of his own blood. Then he did the only thing he could do.
Run. Run as far as you can, and find a safe place to hide. You have enough time for Shedletsky to successfully distract the assassin and avoid being found by then.
He ran, ran, and ran. Until he found a good enough place that was out of the killer's sight. He found shelter among rubble, or what remained of a concrete wall, a dark corner that smelled of mold and old rain.
I let myself fall there, my body silently protesting. The sound of blood dripping onto the floor made a slow, almost hypnotic rhythm.
The distant sound of footsteps faded. The killer had been pulled in another direction.
Shedletsky did it. He had successfully misled them.
A few seconds later, I heard a fainter sound approaching; it was calmer and unhurried. 097n7 recognized it immediately. It was him.
"Are you alright?" Shedletsky asked softly, sighing heavily to catch his breath after the fight. His hand rested carefully on the wall.
"Yes… I…" I hesitated, my tongue catching in my throat. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to attract the killer’s attention so soon."
"Hey." He crouched down nearby, his quick glance assessing the cut on my arm. "Relax. It’s okay. Here, take this"
He hears the sound of something in his hands, a medical kit, sliding towards me.
I carefully picked up the hand, which was soaked in blood.
"Thanks"
That was all I could say, too simple for what I wanted to mean. Shedletsky just nodded, throwing himself down and leaning his back against the wall with a loud snort.
The silence between them stretched on. They didn't want to say anything more than that, but it was comfortable enough.
The only thing they heard was the crack of the bandage being ripped open, the cold air rushing in through the torn sleeve. The pain had vanished almost immediately, bringing great relief to 007n7, but there was still one thing that hadn't gone away. The shame.
As he wrapped his arm around his neck, 007n7 glanced at him. Shedletsky was leaning against the opposite wall, his shoulder dusty and his expression neutral, staring into space. His sword rested on his knee, his reflection obscured by the dim light.
"You shouldn't have come back for me"
"Of course I should." He replied without thinking.
"But you could have been hurt. A-And others need more help than I do, and I should have..."
Shedletsky recounted this with a light laugh, a sound that rang almost ironic. "What should I do? Help more? This world doesn’t care about that. Sometimes you just get beaten down and keep going. We don’t have many things in our favor, so we just learn to survive."
I swallowed hard, unsure whether it was a consolation or a reprimand.
Maybe both.
The bandage was too tight, but I didn't want to loosen it.
He smelled iron in the air and realized how hot the blood had become, even amidst the cold.
"You always seem so… calm." He ventured to say. "Even when everything is… a mess."
"Hmm… not really." he replied. "I wouldn’t call it calmness, it’s more like habit, I guess. So much is happening out there and we just… accept it, you know?"
He glanced at me briefly before adding. "At first, I trembled like that too. I thought that if I stayed still long enough, the pain would go away. But it learns to wait.”
007n7 stayed quiet.
The sound of wind entering through a crack in the ceiling carried dust and fragments of dry leaves.
"Seven."
“...Hm?”
"You're good. You just need to stop thinking that everything that goes wrong is your fault."
He couldn't reply.
The words got stuck because they weren't about that match, and they kind of knew that.
He stood up, adjusted his glove, his gaze now returning to the open field outside.
"The killer is far away. Just a few more minutes and it's over."
I nodded slowly.
As he began to walk away, his voice still echoed, without him turning around. “Finish taking care of that arm. And… try not to die before the countdown reaches zero, okay?”
He smiled weakly, and nodded. I could have sworn he was about to leave, but he didn't. He looked straight at me, to say one last thing.
"After the game…" He pauses for a moment before choosing the right words. "Come talk to me, okay? Nothing urgent. I just… wanted to chat a little."
It took me a moment to understand that he was really serious.
"To talk?"
"Yea" A slight nod, without explanation. "It won't hurt, I promise."
Talk... to him?
"Uh...okay, I guess." 7n7 replied, without pressing for explanations.
He nodded, now turning his gaze back to the arena, the echo of his footsteps mingling with the distant sound of the wind.
007n7 stood still in the same spot, observing the point where he disappeared. Breathing slowly, feeling the bandage tighten around his wrist.
The final countdown has begun.
Time ran out. The invitation was still fresh in his mind before everything blurred before his eyes, as he returned to the cabin.
The air inside the main cabin felt different after a match.
The smell of old wood quickly replaced the damp, metallic smell that came with those returning wounded; the sound muffled the slow footsteps and rambling conversations. The silence came from a calm accompanied by exhaustion, the kind that makes your muscles relax and makes you want to collapse onto the bed immediately.
But that wasn't the case; 007n7 had something else to do.
007n7 slowly walked through the door, his breathing still heavy. The orange light of dusk filtered through the crooked cracks in the windows, tracing irregular lines across the wooden floor. Some survivors had already scattered, each trying to catch their breath in their own way. Shedletsky was talking to someone near the fireplace in the middle of the room; Guest, who was beside him, was laughing at some joke the administrator had told. Laughing at his own joke, too.
007n7 didn't want to cause trouble or be noticed. But fate had other plans.
Shedletsky had noticed him, and he turned his head completely towards him. Oh, damn.
007n7 quickly veered towards the back door, ignoring the administrator's call from a distance.
The path to the dock was short and empty, which was enough.
The air outside was cold, but bearable enough to stay out as long as he wanted. The artificial sun still lingered in the distance, painting the sky with an almost faded red, and its reflection in the water trembled as if breathing. He stood there for a while, just observing. The distant sound of voices inside the cabin mingled with the gentle lapping of the waves against the pier, and he slowed his pace to focus only on the sound of the murky waters.
The wood creaked under his weight as he sat on the edge. His fingers absentmindedly traced the outline of a crack in the pier.
For the first time in a long time, he let his thoughts wander aimlessly.
He just stood there, listening.
And then, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed behind him. A slight creaking of the door, then the echo of someone approaching.
007n7 looked up, already knowing.
Shedletsky stood at the entrance to the dock, his shirt half-unbuttoned, his wings folded, and his gaze curious but attentive. For a moment, he said nothing. He simply assessed the scene. The other man sat, his body leaning forward, his expression distant.
"Hey." he finally said, breaking the silence of the waves, "I was looking for you."
007n7 nodded slightly, "...yes, I know."
Shedletsky gave a small nod and walked over to him, his firm steps echoing on the wood. "I wanted to exchange a few words before dinner, you know."
The other hesitated, their hands intertwining reflexively, the tips of their fingers beginning to playfully brush against each other. The tail eagerly coiled around the right leg like a snake. "Of course, feel free."
"Relax" Shedletsky murmured, almost laughing. "It’s nothing serious."
And then, without saying anything more, he sat down next to him. Not so close as to be uncomfortable, but close enough for the warmth of their bodies to be felt.
The sound of the docks once again filled the silence between them. Water moving, wind whistling, the distant noise of the cabin. Everything sounded too loud.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
007n7 kept his gaze fixed on the reflection of the light on the water, trying to understand why Shedletsky was there. He seemed distracted, until he let out a loud laugh.
A laugh escaped briefly, sounding almost (or entirely) embarrassed. Shedletsky ran a hand through his hair, his gaze returning to the reflection in the water.
"Sorry" he said, with a half-breath that seemed to laugh at himself. "It felt kind of… I don’t know, awkward, right? I should have come with a reason, like: ‘Hey, I came to invite you to dinner’ or ‘I need to show you something’ But no, I just show up and stand here like a statue."
007n7 glanced at him sideways. It wasn't common to see Shedletsky worrying about things like attendance control; everything seemed fine to him. 007n7 shook his head, saying everything was alright, there was no need to worry about it; after all, he wasn't exactly the best at starting a conversation either.
Shedletsky took a deep breath, exhaling through his nose with an almost laughing sigh.
"Anyway… what I really wanted was…" He stops laughing at himself and looks firmly at 007n7.
"…to tell you to relax a little."
...what?
"Huh?" 007n7 blinked, not understanding where that was coming from.
"It’s serious." Shedletsky turned his face away, his expression now firm, no joking.
“Dude, you need to relax. Even if we’re here for days, years, you’re always like this— stuck up, like the ground’s gonna swallow you up, like that.” He gestures and waves his hand up and down to point to his own tense 007n7 body. "I know we didn’t have the best start, but…" he shrugged.
"I worry about everyone. Including you."
The words took a while to fall. 007n7 felt his stomach clench, unsure whether to express his gratitude or shrink back.
"O-oh, I- ermm... Thank you!" He blurts out to the administrator.
Shedletsky gave a silly, but genuine smile. "No need to sound like a robot thanking me, man, I'm just telling the truth."
He gave 007n7 a light nudge on the shoulder, enough to break the tension. "Sometimes I think that, even stuck here, we still try to find a way to feel good. Something that reminds us that it’s still possible to enjoy things, you know? To ignore the chaos a little."
007n7 pressed his lips together, his eyes fixed on the horizon.
"Honestly, I don’t know how to do this" His voice came out lower than he intended. "There’s so much going through my head all the time that I don’t even think about… feeling good. Or doing anything beyond what I’m already doing."
Shedletsky glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, observing 007n7's posture for a few moments, lightly scratching the tip of his chin before replying.
"Yes, I know exactly how it is" he said finally, in an almost thoughtful tone.
The water lapped gently against the pier pillars. The sound filled the pauses that neither of them hurried to fill.
Shedletsky leaned back slightly, resting his arms behind his body, looking at the gray sky, almost completely covered by darkness.
"Do you know what I learned here?" he asked, without looking at him. “That sometimes we need to let the world run its course on its own for a while. Even if everything is bad, even if it makes no sense at all. Because if you try to carry everything all the time, there comes a point when nothing moves anymore."
007n7 listened quietly, not daring to interrupt Shedletsky, for while he spoke, something sounded truly sincere in his words. His playful tone conveyed the essence of his personality, preventing it from being entirely serious and dramatic.
"It’s not about pretending everything’s okay" Shedletsky continued. "It’s just… finding a loophole. A moment when the weight lifts. It can be anything: fixing something old, looking at the lake, laughing at something silly. These little things end up being what keeps us going. Look at Chance, he finds joy in anything, and even then he’s happy."
007n7 lowered his head. His hands clasped together on his knees. "What if I don't have any of that?"
Shedletsky glanced at him, the corner of his mouth curving into an almost smile.
"So maybe you haven’t found it yet" Their eyes met, a golden glint softly covering their hopeful, amused eyes – "But you will. There’s always something that makes you feel it’s worth it, even if it only lasts a moment. Just find what makes you happiest."
The wind passed between them, carrying the scent of the lake and damp wood. The sky had already darkened and the sun had hidden itself. The light coming from the cabin left them half golden, half faded.
007n7 sighed lightly, smiling gently. The sound came out as a whisper.
"Yeah... maybe."
He rested his chin on his knees, his gaze lost in the broken reflection of the artificial stars on the water. A small, shy smile escaped him involuntarily.
Shedletsky saw him and returned the smile with a brief laugh.
“Well, that’s all I had to say.” He stood up, stretching his wings in a lazy motion. He prepared to leave, getting up from his seat and stretching his almost numb legs. "It was good talking to you, Seven. We should do this more often. Ooooor, I don’t know, with the rest of the crew too, who knows." Shedletsky mentioned playfully. 007n7 began to sweat nervously.
“I— oh, I… you know, I—” 007n7 stumbled over his own words, and Shedletsky let out a loud laugh at the other's clumsy manner.
He waved his hand in the air, still laughing. "I’m just kidding, let’s take it easy. I know it’s a lot for you right now, so relax, man. Take your time." Shedletsky finishes stretching and leans almost on top of 007n7 from the side.
"But, if one day I want to talk to someone..."
He gave 007n7 a light tap on the shoulder. "I'm always around here, okay?"
007n7 looked at him for a moment before answering.
"...okay. Thank you. For everything."
"No need to thank me" said Shedletsky, turning towards the cabin.
"Until next time, 007n7."
He gave one last smile over his shoulder before going inside, the light slowly engulfing him.
Meanwhile, 007n7 stood alone on the dock, the distant sound of voices filling the air once more. He turned to gaze at the dancing stars beneath the water, delicately, with much to ponder.
But for now, silence was enough. A hope begins to blossom.
Thank you very much, Shedletsky.
The door slammed shut behind him with a muffled bang, quick and almost impatient. 007n7 leaned against it and let out a long sigh, the kind that seemed to come straight from the bone. He was exhausted as hell, and all that conversation had completely worn down his social skills.
The room was already bathed in twilight, with only the faint light from the cracked window entering, the only light that allowed him to see and distinguish what was in his path or not.
He just wanted to sleep. That's all. His body felt heavy, his mind throbbed, the whole day dragged on inside him. He started walking towards the bed, already taking off his slippers (but left his socks on) and wanted to take the biggest leap of joy of his life, until he stopped halfway there.
His gaze lingered on something on his bed.
There was a patch of color where there shouldn't have been any color at all.
Red.
For a second he blinked, thinking it was a mistake. Perhaps it was a reflex, or some illusion caused by tiredness. But his eyes did not deceive him; it was truly there, the color remaining vivid and glorious, resting on the bed as if it had always been part of the room.
“...what?”
He straightened up, his gaze narrowed. His body instinctively lowered, moving slowly, almost in a spying posture. He moved left and right as if spying on a dangerous animal inside a shop window. He looked from side to side, suspicious.
He came close.
One more step.
Other.
The fabric shimmered in the flickering light, briefly highlighting its details and prompting 007n7 to inspect it more closely. Striking, shimmering red, finely crafted and cared-for silk. He leaned in curiously, his fingers hovering inches from it, until the touch finally came.
Soft, light, silky...
Suddenly, the air stopped in his lungs. His eyes widened in an instant.
He remembered, he knew what it was.
"It can't be..." he murmured, too quietly to echo.
The dress that—
The memory hit him hard.
An old, loud, mocking laugh echoing somewhere in his mind.
"Come oooooon, you agreed to use it!"
"No! Never! I'm not going to use that!"
"A challenge is a challenge, man, there's no escaping it~"
The sound of Noli's voice still carried the same teasing tone, the same smile he couldn't forget. Despite everything.
"Come on, you know very well what you need to do. Especially because..."
"Red suits you well, right? Seven"
The room fell silent again.
007n7 stood still, the dress still in his hands. The weight proving that it was, in fact, real. In his own hands.
He looked at the fabric again, memories he never imagined would remain as they were. Moments that were once filled with joy and camaraderie.
His heart beat slowly, each pulse echoing in his fingers.
He didn't know whether to laugh or drop it and run away.
But it didn't move.
He just stood there, motionless, his gaze fixed on the dress as if staring at a familiar ghost. Or rather...
A great old friend.