Chapter Text
Six and RK were rummaging through the storage closet, trying to find any semblance of edible meals—their supply was dwindling at a faster rate than expected.
Mono was trying to fix the broken TV outside. Apparently it needed more than a remote to turn on.
Opening the cabinets, scanning for items—dust, pencils, cobwebs, staples, more dust—it'd become a routine for the group. Sometimes, RK even got bored. Usually, he was extremely digilent with his tasks (he didn't slack off after two minutes if it wasn't food related, looking at you Six) but these kinds of activities have become second nature to him, so half of the time he'd be thinking about something else while searching. He was practically on autopilot.
Today, the topic that was special enough to fill his glorious endless mind was Mono. More specifically, Mono's face. He's never seen his face. He's technically seen Six's face (once in a blue moon when her hood isn't over her head) but can he really say that if her hair covers her eyes one hundred percent of the time?
While pulling out another drawer, RK asks,
"Six, have you ever seen Mono's face?"
Now, if RK didn't know any better he'd think Six was ignoring him, but he's spent enough time with the girl to understand her communication signals. She didn't look at him, but she nodded while pausing to glance at something in a corner, he presumed.
This gave him a tiny pang of jealousy, since Six knew something about Mono that he didn't. He didn't want to feel left out, after all. They were all friends, weren't they? They were a part of the same group. He should be included, too. But the feeling subsided as quick as it came. He probably didn't show it on purpose, RK thought. Considering how often he wears it.
"What does he look like?"
RK wondered what was really hiding under that bag. Was he embarrassed to show something? Maybe his eyes? Were they pitch-black or something? Maybe he had—what was it called, where you have two different colored eyes—heterotopia? Hemophobia?
Or maybe he had different colored hair! Was it gray? Was he balding at the ripe age of ten? Did he have some sort of marks, scars—
"...Nice to eat. But don't want to eat him," Six replied.
She's stopped searching. Six looks lost in thought, like she's trying to come up with a better explanation.
"Nice to eat, huh..." RK repeats.
An interesting choice of words. Six always had her own special vocabulary. If something looks good to eat, then... It looks delicious? Good? Yummy?
...Pretty?
"So, he looks pretty?"
By this time, RK's stopped searching, too. Looks like they're both slacking off.
At the precise moment RK said pretty, Six nodded in furious agreement, as if she was saying, "Yes, that's it! That's the exact word I was looking for!"
...Pretty, huh.
Well, that's not a bad description, RK supposes.
"You think so, too?"
"What?"
RK swerved his head at an impossible speed, staring at Six incredulously.
Six stared back.
...Shit, he might've said that out loud.
"Well, uh—I mean... I don't know what he looks like, so..."
RK desperately scrambled for a way to not answer Six's question.
Six cocked her head. "So?"
"What do you mean, 'so'?! How do I think he's pretty if I don't know what he looks like?!"
Six leaned back a little and crossed her arms.
"So, ugly?"
Okay, she's toying with him now. Whatever, beauty is in the eye of the beaver and all that.
RK sighs in defeat. Six might not be knowledgeable, but she's not stupid.
RK thinks about that stupid bag head. It's not even ugly to him, not anymore. When he first saw it, sure, but who wears something like that on their head? And all the time, too?! Six has an excuse, the hood is a part of her raincoat, and it's protective gear. Also, Six is Six. It seems like it would fit her mysterious, doesn't-talk-at-all persona.
But Mono? Come on. He looks like he came straight out of a cartoon! Yeah, the brown matches his color scheme, but everything else... RK didn't understand it. Couldn't understand it.
Even so, it grew on him. Mono would look weirder without it, to be honest. RK couldn't imagine him without that iconic bag. For a while, he also wanted to join in on the "cover your head" trend those two were somehow inexplicably having. He wanted to "fit in." So, he asked Mono for a hat, one day. That guy loved collecting hats. Loved it a little too much, in his opinion, but he wasn't one to judge.
Miraculously, Mono got one for him, and to be honest, that was one of the best days of RK's life.
That was the first gift he received from anyone. Ever.
It was triangular, and a bit of dirty white (beige?). It was really tall going by normal hat standards, which made crawling in vents or under floorboards absolute hell. It wasn't perfect by any means (there were multiple scratches and dirt marks he could see), but to hell if RK cared.
It reminded him a little of his friends, those Nomes. They had similar colors. Maybe that's why Mono gave him that hat. He gladly accepted the gift, and wore it immediately.
For about a few days.
Then he realized how much he hated wearing it.
First, he can't see. The hat fit him fine, but it pushed down his hair, and made it cover his eyes more than it already did (which RK didn't know was possible).
Second, it was heavy. It's not like it's a boulder, but when you're running for your life and you have to carry food, a flashlight, possibly a weapon, you don't want to have more weight on your body than necessary.
You see, when one runs, they typically tilt their body forward. This includes the head, and when RK ran he felt like the hat was going to fall off any second. Much anxiety was felt during those few days.
...
He forgot he was participating in a conversation at the moment.
"No... I don't think he's ugly."
RK pauses for a second, making eye contact (if one could even call it that) with Six.
"Actually... I've gotten used to that bag he wears. Kinda fits him. Like, I couldn't imagine him without it, y'know? ...Sorry, if that sounds weird."
RK felt like he was rambling and wasn't really making any sense. He didn't even intend to tell Six all that information, it just kind of rolled off his tongue. He certainly didn't expect Six to understand, or even reply to him. She wasn't much of a talker. He felt stupid by now, why did he say that? Now she's going to think he's weird, damn. Should've kept his mouth shut.
"...Doesn't sound weird." Six says this with an aura of firmness. "...I like it, too."
"Wait, really? You feel the same way?"
Six nods.
While taking in the fact that Six just agreed with him on something, RK realizes that he hasn't gotten a good view of her face much. Not that it was particularly important to him, considering that he has much better things to worry about, you know, like food and water.
But he realizes that, as someone who likes looking at people when he talks to them (like Mono), he... usually doesn't look at Six directly. He feels like he can't. He sees Mono talk to her like it's nothing; holding her hand, grabbing it and even pulling her (the madman!) to where he wants to go.
If RK tried to even tap her on the shoulder, he feels like he'd get eaten to a pulp. Yes, eaten. Chowed down and made into Nome skewers. He feels as if there's an invisible line, made just for him, that he can't cross.
He doesn't give food to her directly, not anymore. He's sure Mono has noticed, RK can tell he gets slightly annoyed whenever he asks him to give something to her. Especially when it would take significantly less effort for RK to do it himself, but no. He couldn't. No way. There was just something that stopped him, that cautioned him.
And then he remembers.
She tried to eat him. Once. Just once. That was all that she needed.
He tries to forgive her. Really, he does.
He wishes he forgot it all. Sometimes he thought it would be better for her to have finished the job, back then. So he didn't have to live with knowing that one of his friends (could he even call her that?) tried to kill him, murder him, devour him.
He's sure she remembers, too.
Maybe that was why she never really got close to him. Perhaps she was holding back, scared of getting out of control. Scared she was going to get a little too close and smell his sweet, tender flesh. On the offchance that she couldn't resist biting onto his neck and tasting his blood, watching as it dripped, dripped, dripped down from his shoulder to his arm, to his legs, to his feet, to the floor.
And he could do nothing but watch, since he didn't even know he was dying. What a poor, poor, stupid fool he was. He struggled so much, but it was all for naught. He remembers the texture of her monstrous teeth that seemed way too sharp for a child of her size. The way it sunk so effortlessly into his skin, tearing his meat like he was a plush toy being played with. She was a goddamned messy eater.
He flinches a little whenever he sees her take a bite of anything. Seeing those white canines—it was filled with blood, his blood, it had his nerves and tendons in-between the gaps—he felt like he was prey. He remembers the pain, like thunderous jolts through out his entire body. She tore through his flesh like it was nothing. Her eyes, the way it glowed so red, like she wasn't even human. He couldn't even feel his neck. As if his head was disconnected from the rest of his corpse. And to be honest, it probably was.
He remembers red, yellow, black. He remembers it all too, too well. It was so, so vivid—too vivid, why did it feel oh so real? It happened a long time ago, it's over now, he should've forgotten about it, forgotten the blood dripping from her lips and onto her coat and the glimpse of a curled up smile and her pitch-black shadow standing behind her underneath the blinding light—
Why did he ever try to look at her, again? Why did he try to converse with this—this... maniac?! She could kill him at any second if she so desired. He was nothing to her, just another lump of fat and meat to swallow. All he ever wanted was to be her friend. He tried to be nice to her, give her food—and what did she do in return—she tried to kill him, fucking kill him—why did she do that, why did she do that to him, why did she why why why why why
Oh god, he's so fucking scared. He feels like he can't breathe, he can't (shouldn't) get any closer, please don't fucking eat me, I'm so scared, please please I won't do it again I won't bother you again just don't eat me please I just wanted to be your friend I'm sorry if you hate me I was only trying to help I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm
"—RK? Hey, RK! Are you okay? Hey, hey..."
He feels small. A shadow looms over him, but now that he looks closer, there's two. Was he a Nome again? He looks down.
No, he has four fingers, a thumb, and ten toes.
Wait, since when was he on the floor?
He feels wet all over. Even though he's not moving at all, his hands and feet shake. Was he sweating?
He attempts to swallow, but it's a little difficult. It's as if he's been underwater for a prolonged amount of time, and he just got back to the surface. He heaves.
"Breathe, RK. Take deep breaths. It's okay, Six and I are with you. You're okay..."
He tries to listen to the voice's advice. Take deep breaths. Control your breathing. Control yourself. You are in control.
You are in control.
He's in control. No one else. Only he can control his life and his body. He decides when to live and die. That's how he got this far, hasn't it?
He glances away from the floor, and to the voices he hears. He sees brown, and a little bit of yellow. He feels somewhat empty. He wishes those Nomes were here. He wants to hug something, anything.
So he stands up. But that didn't go very far, because he has no strength right now. He wobbles, sways, and he's about to fall...
...just as the brown silhouette catches him. He can see the yellow mass take a step before Mono even moved, but it stopped in its tracks. Why did she stop?
A booming voice interrupts his thoughts, "Hey, what the hell are you doing?! Don't just suddenly get up like that! You need to lay down and rest!"
He didn't really pay attention to the blobs of syllables that came out of Mono's mouth, instead focusing on the warmth of his hand around his torso. He leans into it, and Mono holds him closer, trying not to drop him. He huffs, ceasing his selfless scolding. He knew it was going in one ear and out the other.
Even though RK was thin for his size, it was still difficult to hold an entire person's body on you, wasn't it? Sorry, Mono...
As his eyelids droop, he realizes that he's as tall, if not taller than the boy in front him. Weird, since he felt so, so small... Like anything could hold him, and cover him entirely. Hah. Sometimes he still thinks he's a Nome.
He wants to be held. Just one person wasn't enough... he craved another. Six stands in the background of his view, and he sees a glimpse of red under those dark bangs. RK laughs to himself. Why did they look so alike? Their hair colors were practically indistinguishable, not to mention the eerily similar lengths. Albeit his was a little longer in the back, and her hair covered her cheeks and sides a bit more.
If they switched clothes, Mono probably couldn't tell the difference. He would have to discern them by height. But even then, that was only when they stood next to each other. If he was, say, ten or twenty feet away, it'd be up to chance.
He feels conflicting emotions. A part of him wants Six to come closer, to give him more warmth. To be his friend. Isn't that what friends do? He wants her to reach out to him, to play with him, to hold his hand. He doesn't hate her, why would he? We're all children living in this hellhole. Children should stick together, it's better that way. He's not one to hold grudges. He just wants to have a nice, soft hug...
But as much as he wants that, something inside him talks. It says he should fear her, that he should hate her, that he should've never given her that sausage—that he was a simpleton, an utter buffoon to have trusted her, anyone, even Mono; because in this world, you can't trust anyone. These thoughts paralyzed him to the core, so much so that he couldn't even move his own body. Like he wasn't in control. His life was controlled by those stronger than him, by those who hated him, by those who grew up and those who were Six. It made him want to shrivel up and return to being a mouthless Nome.
But quite frankly, he was tired. He knows one thing, and that the embrace of other children was unlike anything in this world. Including Six. He wouldn't even mind if it was from her... he was that exhausted.
Still... he wishes that she would say sorry, at least once. In her own way was fine. He just wanted some resemblance of guilt, or remorse. He couldn't really read Six. He had no idea what she was thinking, at all times. He didn't even know if she really thought of him as her friend.
RK wishes Six apologized.