#cinnaphosweek2018

Among all the things they had expected from college, their new roommate barking orders and insults at them wasn’t one of them. Usually, people gave Phos a chance before they started insulting them. Even Cairngorm had conceded them a couple of hours of trial.

Phos would mumble an apology if they weren’t utterly speechless. And terrified. And they would at least try to look apologetic, even if they had no idea what about, but their face was frozen in a petrified frown. The rest of their body was struggling not to let go of the unruly pile of belongings that they had been hoping to drop on the floor of their new room.

“No snoring, no talking in your sleep, don’t overstep here, this part of the room is mine, if I catch you with so much of a hair near my stuff you’re dead. Don’t touch my things: never touch my things.”

Their tried to nod while what they had hoped would be their new friend went on some more house rules. What was the name again? Shi-Ci-Cinnabar? Gosh, Phos would never call them by name until they weren’t certain. Also, they were not quite sure that all of their stuff would fit into the corner that Cinnabar designated as their own side of the room, but there was no way they could just mention it without risking their own head be bitten off.

So they tried to start small. By some miracle, they wiggled one of their hands free, unquestionable proof that they had been a juggler in a past life, and offered it to their roommate.

“So, uhm, my name is-“

“Oh yes, one last thing,” Cinnabar said, sparing half, or better, a quarter of disgusted glance toward Phos’s hand, “Don’t. Talk. To. Me.”

--

When Phos found enough courage in them to ask around about Cinnabar, they had been expecting tales of roommates being murdered under the pale moonlight, not what looked like the description of a very, very selective cat.

A “cutie,” Padparadscha’s words. A cutie that had helped them with calculus, apparently. Which implied a lot of interesting and contradictory inferences. Like the fact that Papda had spent a considerable amount of hours in the company of Cinnabar, that Cinnabar had softened their bark enough to explain things to them, that those things were math, and that Cinnabar had been patient and good enough a teacher to succeed where even Rutile had failed. All without killing Padparadscha or even injuring them a little.

But Padparadscha didn’t count, Phos thought: everybody liked Padparadscha, it didn’t mean anything. So Phos went looking for their horror stories elsewhere.

Now Cinnabar went from “cutie” to “friend,” which sounded even stranger because it implied an even longer period of interaction and shared space. They were quite sure that Diamond even added the words “for years” next to “friend.”

Of course, Dia had a nice word for everyone, but by the time Bort seconded their opinion, adding tales about the one time they baked German sweets for Christmas rather than how they helped Cinnabar hide a body, Phos was very confused.

Cinnabar was a selective hatred-inflicting mystery, and Phos loved a good puzzle. As long as it didn’t mean ending up six feet under, but judging from their roommate’s meager if anything body-count, it was a risk they could dare take.

Like most things in Phosphophyllite’s life, they didn’t plan it. They waited for the universe to align in a position favorable for minding someone else’s business. And the universe delivered on a sunny October afternoon, in the form of a Cinnabar leaving their laptop open and unguarded on their bed when they went to the toilet.

As it was due, Phosphophyllite thanked the universe, tasting the sweet, forbidden flavor of danger in their mouth as adrenaline started rushing through their body. They were alone, and they would be alone for a few seconds at least, so they steadied their heart and did the unthinkable.

They stepped into Cinnabar’s side of the room.

They world went still. Phos imitated it standing immobile as if the walls around them could crumble at any moment. As if Cinnabar had only pretended to leave their laptop unguarded, like they would ever make such a mistake. They were testing Phos. Their sadistic, evil kitten personality was testing Phos’ loyalty to the fear they had worked so hard to elicit in them that first day. And all the days after that.

But like most times in Phosphophyllite life, Phos ignored their common sense, opting instead for the decision that would elicit the least foreseeable outcome. Which happened to also be the stupidest.

They made another step.

Was it their imagination or the air in the room was getting colder? Shinsha’s side was definitely inhabited by the ghosts of their former roommates.

The forbidden object was now so close that Phos could venture out to touch it. Would that leave any fingerprint on the black, shiny, vampiric surface though? Would those fingerprints be easily attributable to Phosphophyllite? That was the whole point of fingerprints, if Phos was not mistaken.

So they made another step, their legs now dangerously close to the bed, to the point that they could feel the soft consistency of cotton sheets against their shin. They had never felt closer to death before and thus had never felt so alive. And so determined to stay alive.

That’s when they decided that they must have a death wish. They moved their head forward, casting their eyes impossibly close to enemy territory, and stole a glance at Cinnabar’s laptop, enough to capture the image they had set as wallpaper.

And Phos brought both of their hands to their mouth and suffocated a loud, elongated scream.

Cinnabar.

Cinnabar “if you talk to me you’re dead.”

Cinnabar “I’ll stop wearing black when they make a darker color.”

Cinnabar “I have never tasted the sweet flavor of happiness.”

That Cinnabar had a picture of kittens as desktop wallpaper.

Little, cute, fluffy fur balls with a big sign with words of encouragement written on it.

And Phos wasn’t screaming, or trying to prevent themselves from doing so, because of the kittens. Because everybody had a right to live their emo life in any way they so preferred. Even if 2008 had come and gone ten years ago. Even if it meant walking around with eyes so empty they could suck you in like a singularity point while still using a freaking picture of kittens as desktop wallpaper.

No, Phos would never judge someone else’s aesthetic, however contradictory. It would have meant judging their own first of all, and they enjoyed feeling the power surge of entropy as they went about their day in mismatched colors and sandaled socks.

No. Phos was screaming, or trying to prevent themselves from doing so, because of the sign. A huge, fully saturated red monstrosity that hurt their aspiring graphic designer’s eyes, but still not quite as much as the font.

There it stood, on Cinnabar’s pitch-black laptop, surrounded by the naïve cuteness of kittens. There it stood, the forsaken font, in all its cursed glory. Desecrating, insulting, violating, blaspheming the blissful and yet beautiful contradiction of emo kittens.

If they didn’t hear Cinnabar’s footsteps approaching from the corridor, Phos would have suffered from a Comic Sans-induced heart attack right on the spot. In Cinnabar’s side of the room.

They had just enough time to contemplate if that was Cinnabar’s preferred method of killing unsolicited roommates before they plunged into their own bed with a leap worthy of an Olympic qualification, like their life depended on it. Because, quite frankly, it did.

With their heart beating fast both from the near-death experience and the horror provoked by their discovery, they grabbed a book, the first book they could find, and shoved it in their own face the moment they landed on the mattress, exactly 0.2 seconds before Cinnabar’s figure stepped through the doorframe.

They had a large, steaming cup of coffee in their hand and a murderous stare in those bottomless, blood-red pits that people around campus insisted on calling eyes.

All the cuteness and tenderness they could have felt after discovering about the kittens disappeared as Phos tried to decipher if that glance was directed at the world or at them in particular.

Their heart was marathoning a full 50km at the speed of a sprinter. And it was being loud about it. So loud. Phos knew that Cinnabar could hear it.

As if in response, Cinnabar’s head shifted imperceptibly toward Phos’ side of the room. Not enough to make out their eyes from beneath Cinnabar’s red, tangled mess of a mane, but definitely enough to have Phos question all of their life choices so far.

--

The scene kept replaying every day before Phosphophyllite’s eyes.

Their forbidden gesture, the way they had bolted to the bed, the way they had grabbed a book and pretended to be reading, the way Cinnabar had come back to their room and had looked at them, the way they had sat down on their bed without saying a word.

The way they had started using their computer as if nothing had happened, the way Phos had cast a panicked glance in their direction and the way they had discovered, upon closer inspection, that they had been holding the book upside down.

Cinnabar didn’t mention any of these things. Not that day, nor the day after that. It was like they hadn’t noticed anything amiss in Phos’ behavior. And that was what made Phos so suspicious.

Phosphophyllite knew about their own chaotic attitude towards life. They knew they would never commit the perfect crime, because they could easily find a needle in a haystack but would totally miss a sperm whale in a coffee cup. Phosphophyllite knew. Everyone knew. Cinnabar knew.

And Cinnabar was waiting for them to break down.

It was already happening. Guilt and anxiety and horror mixing up in an uncontainable cocktail in Phos’s stomach, dangerously close to overflowing.

Could Cinnabar hear the pounding sound of Phos’ heart every time they were alone in a room with them? Had Cinnabar noticed that something was wrong with their laptop where Phos’ eyes had dared taint it with their glance? Did Phos leave any traces of their irresponsible trespassing?

The silence kept stretching on between the two of them, heavier and more loaded with murderous repercussions than usual. And with it, the growing repulsion of that one, cursed sign, disfiguring the amenity of emo kittens. It must have been ironic, Phos thought, it must have been. Or it could have been another test for Phos. If so, how should they respond to it?

They realized that they were staring at Cinnabar again, ready to anticipate possible attacks.

Cinnabar was sitting on their bed, black clothed legs hugging their black laptop while long, black sleeves clad their arms and hands, fingers intently typing some mysterious something. It was probably a list of the reasons why Phos had failed the test and how Cinnabar could get rid of them and make the world a better place.

Cinnabar pressed enter one last time, a single, swift movement of the finger.

It was all Phos needed.

They knew. Cinnabar knew. It was in the satisfaction with whom they had pressed enter and made their list of ‘1001 ways to kill Phosphophyllite’ a reality.

And the emotional brew that had been fermenting inside Phos’ stomach broke free.

“I’m so sorry please don’t kill me!”

If Phos thought that Cinnabar had been considering them up to this point, they were definitely unprepared to bear the weight of their undivided attention. Because, yes, Cinnabar’s stare was now definitely murderous, and yes, all of that murderous intent was directed at Phos exclusively. Success.

They arched one single eyebrow in Phos’ general direction.

Phos felt their heart sink. Catching what could very well be their last breath, they realized they should fight for their life. Because Cinnabar spat the next word as if it was disgusting for the sole reason that it was directed at Phos.

“What,” they said.

Phosphophyllite could see their chances of survival physically dimming before their eyes.

“Y-your laptop, I’m sorry, I swear I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, it happened, I looked at it!”

“You what?”

“I was just curious,” they blurted out, a curious mix of shame, relief and desperation lining their voice, “you never talk to me and you look super scary, but everyone else said you’re actually pretty nice and I didn’t know, I didn’t know what to do, I don’t know what kind of person you are so I thought I’d look just for a tiny second, please, please, please forgive me.”

Curiously enough, Cinnabar didn’t look murderous anymore. They looked perplexed.

They arched another eyebrow and that was when the magic happened because, rather than making them even scarier, that one gesture changed the expression on their face completely. They lost intimidation points, the second eyebrow easing some of the dangerousness from their face and replacing it with a new emotion that wasn’t gloom or anger or angst, or any of the emotions that Cinnabar had displayed in Phos’ presence.

Cinnabar looked surprised.

And it looked cute on them.

And did Phos just think ‘cute’ and ‘Cinnabar’ in the same phrase? They were definitely going to die today.

“You looked at my computer?”

“I did.”

And here was when the magic kept on happening. Because Cinnabar kept looking surprised. And, as such, kept looking less dangerous than they were cute.

“You- but why-“ even more: Cinnabar looked almost calm now, as if their disbelief had been enough to kick out anger and murder from their head, because there wasn’t enough room for all three of them. For a brief second, the thought that maybe, just maybe, they would live to see another day crossed Phos’ mind.

And then the thought crossed their mind again for a longer second, because Cinnabar’s face was an adorable frown of perplexity while they tried to make sense of their first experience of Phos’ incongruous lifestyle. If Cairngorm were here, they could help them through the process. It was less traumatic when there were two people instead of one to acknowledge the hopelessness of Phos’ case.

“Why?” Cinnabar managed to ask in a tiny, childish voice that Phos would never have believed could belong to them. And they destroyed it with chaotic pragmatism.

“I don’t know! I was just curios!”

Cinnabar’s eyes were back on them, their gaze significantly less cute now and Phos contemplated the option of pleading for their life once again, but they were on a rampage and couldn’t stop the words that come out of their mouth. So they uttered them at the speed of light to make up for it.

“Also please tell me it’s ironic!”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“The font!” what else? Was this another test? “The cursed one! The pic was super cute but you can’t ruin it like that! It hurts the kittens!”

“What the actual fuck. What’s your problem?”

“Gosh, I can’t believe this!” and wielding as a weapon that specific brand of courage that comes from an equal mixture of foolhardiness and spite, Phos did the unthinkable again.

They stood up and walked two oblivious steps into Cinnabar’s territory. And a third one toward Cinnabar’s bed. They bent down over their computer, dangerously close to Cinnabar’s face and blissfully unaware of the defensive way in which they were drawing back.

“That thing!” they said once again, pointing a finger at Cinnabar’s desktop, “gosh, I can’t even say its name, you used comic sans. Like, you used comic sans!”

“Stop staring at my computer, you creep,” Cinnabar protested, and shut the machine as a sign of defiance.

“How can you call me a creep? Look what you did to your kittens!”

“What the hell, go away, go back to your side of the room.”

“They don’t deserve this, and that red too, they don’t deserve this pain.”

Phos was so absorbed in their graphics-induced indignation that they almost missed the fierce, deep red that was dying Cinnabar’s cheeks. And they almost missed the way Cinnabar was no longer barking threats but tilting their head to the side and looking at them with a mixture of confusion and apprehension. Because Phos was ranting about designer’s stuff to a math grad. A math grad who knew about technology only the bare necessaire to write a couple of papers in which the quantity of numbers beat words 5 to 1, and who liked it that way. So Phos missed the exact moment in which Cinnabar’s irritation for their outrageous breach of privacy and personal space muted into defensiveness.

“’twas a gift. From my Sensei.”

“Uh?”

“The thing, I didn’t make it, it was a gift. It was nice of him. He said it was t-to bring me good luck.”

And suddenly the weight of all the things they had missed while they were ranting about gestalt and the faults of sans serifs hit Phos in the head with the violence of a very, very hard frying pan. And then they felt like shit.

“Oh. Oh! Shit, I mean, gosh, and how- how old is your Sensei?”

“I don’t know.”

“Like, more than sixty?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

“Alright, alright, gosh,” Phos ran a hand through their hair, they gazed at Cinnabar from beneath the teal and found them staring back at them, anticipation and worry on their face.

They were several years older than Phos, and several shades more bitter. And yet, they looked so tiny. A fragile, red-headed thing with adorable little freckles and what looked like a half-pout. In that exact moment, Phos understood how Padparadscha could call them a “cutie.” Padpa was never wrong about people, after all.

“Okay, listen. He was nice, but you both need to be enlightened about stuff,” so they put their hands on their hips in the cheap imitation of a power pose and donned their most charming smile.

“Therefore, I, Phosphophyllite, will help you out. I’m going to make you the best kitten wallpaper. The one that only you can use.”

Phosphophyllite stumbles forward clumsily, reaching with sparkling eyes towards a pulsating, convulsing blob of mercury. Cinnabar immediately recoils, just as Diamond latches onto Phosphophyllite and pulls them away.

“No, no, Phos.” Diamond shakes their head. “That’s poison. Bad to touch.”

“Bad?” Phosphophyllite’s eyes remained ignorant. “But they’re all around Cinna. Is Cinna in a bad place?”

“Cinnabar’s special,” Diamond says kindly. “Because, Cinnabar...”

Cinnabar coughs out mercury. Diamond flinches, more so under Cinnabar’s harsh glare as they bat away the silvery poison with ease.

“My body produces it,” they bite out. Phosphophyllite blinks at them. “So I can’t be affected by it. But everyone else is different. Everyone else can never come into contact with it. Ever.”

“That’s...cool!” Phosphophyllite beams so idiotically. “That’s really cool!”

Cinnabar could’ve cracked with how hard their fists clenched.

“...looks like you have more to teach them,” they say, coldly and almost bitterly. “They’re not quite right in the head, Diamond.”

“Don’t say that,” Diamond admonished gently.

“You’re not quite right in the head, either.”

“Cinnabar...”

“Rude!” Phosphophyllite squawks, clinging to Diamond. “Hey, you! Don’t insult Dia! Or me!” Despite hiding behind Diamond, they were glaring at Cinnabar defiantly. “I’ll make you pay if you do...!”

There was nothing to dignify that with. Especially with how Phosphophyllite was making faces at them.

Even for a young gem, this one is...particularly ignorant.

“Now, now, Phos,” Diamond is laughing, of course. “Cinnabar may have a bad attitude but they aren’t a bad gem. They’re very helpful. Very wise. And even kind. When you’re at a complete loss, you should turn to them.”

“No way!” Phosphophyllite exclaimed. “I’ll never need their help! So I’m never gonna ask!”

“Never say never, especially when you live forever.”

...never...

Phosphophyllite glared at them one last time before turning away with a sharp huff. Cinnabar averted their gaze as Diamond finally lead Phosphophyllite away by hand. The two of them were already close, which wasn’t a surprise.

They may have been born in the same year, but Cinnabar and Diamond had always been complete opposites.

Phosphophyllite, huh... Cinnabar scoffed, but they still wondered. Such a beautiful minty green... There’s no doubting that the Lunarians will be attracted to it. Well. They better be strong, at least. And if not...

They had Diamond and the others to protect them, of course.

They’ll be fine. All the same.

--

“You stupid 3.5, just what are you doing?”

Even in a field of green, that minty shade stands out so brilliantly that it’s beyond irritating. Especially when Phosphophyllite stretches out with a soft groan.

“I was having a great beauty rest until you showed up,” they grumble, cupping their cheeks. “Stupid, sour Cinnabar.”

Petulant still, as expected from the youngest.

“It’s getting late,” Cinnabar pointed out. “So shouldn’t you hurry up and return?”

“Shouldn’t you?!” Phosphophyllite asked, pointing at them. “Don’t tell me what to do if you’re hypocritical about it!”

“I still have work to do,” they said, unimpressed. “Unlike you.”

“I-I’ll get work! I’m just resting up to prepare! You shattered my concentration!” It’s almost amusing, just how heated up this 3.5 gets. “How dare you! Just because you can exude poison and can fight...!”

It’s almost despairing, just how ignorant and naïve this 3.5 is.

“...the others are going to worry,” Cinnabar says quietly. Phosphophyllite, too, seems confused by their tone. “Sensei is also going to worry.”

Phosphophyllite’s head tilts.

“By the way, what work are you doing, Cinnabar?”

“Wha...?” Cinnabar flustered, balking. “Don’t—change the subject like that, you idiot!”

“Can I help?!” Their eyes are sparkling. “I can help!!”

“No, you can’t!” Cinnabar exclaimed, exasperated. “You absolutely can’t! Just how stupid are you?!”

“I’m hearing insults but I’m not hearing an explanation!” Phosphophyllite gets to their feet, bright and full of excitement. “I’m helping! That settles it!”

“You’re not—no! That’s not going to happen! That’s... That’s...!” Cinnabar finally sighs. “Alright. Fine.”

“Yaaaaay!” It’s obnoxious just how happy Phosphophyllite is.

It’s insulting just how dumb 3.5 really is.

“So, so!” Phosphophyllite chirps, skipping after them, mindful of the mercury, at least. “What’s the work? What, what?”

“It’s escorting a problematic gem back.”

“...seriously?”

“Yes. Seriously. Don’t like it?” Cinnabar scowled. “Then go back on your own.”

“Buh!” Phosphophyllite’s cheeks puff out wide enough to cause cracks. “Boo...!”

“Booing isn’t going to change anything, 3.5.”

“Boo, booooo!”

Cinnabar snorted, turning away.

“Come on. Let’s just get you back. The others are going to worry.”

“I can handle myself,” Phosphophyllite grumbled, fidgeting. “I’m almost as old as Zircon was when they started doing things on their own.”

“You’re a lot more fragile,” Cinnabar pointed out. “You need to take things a lot more slowly.”

“Boooo...”

“Booing isn’t going to change that.” Cinnabar cocked out their hip, placing a hand on it. “It’s simply the way things are, 3.5.”

“...is that really true?”

“It always has been,” they said. “And it always will be.”

“Boooooooooo.”

Cinnabar shook their head.

No matter. Even if they remain stubborn forever, the others will protect and shelter them forever. At least they will...if the moon doesn’t snatch them away, first. With that minty sheen—there’s no way around it.

A gust of wind, rustling the grass. When they looked back, Phosphophyllite was still pouting.

...useless...but not worthless... Not like me.

“Come on, 3.5.”

“Stop calling me that! You wouldn’t like it if I called you by your hardness level would you?!” Phosphophyllite frowns suddenly, looking thoughtful. “Cinnabar, what is your hardness level anyway?”

“...noisy. You’re too noisy.”

“N-Noisy?! Booooo!”

“Stop booing. Come on.”

Phosphophyllite hmphed but they did obey, keeping their head ducked and lips pulled into a deep frown.

...my hardness level? It’s...

--

“...even lower than yours.”

Sighing, Cinnabar gathered up Phosphophyllite’s shattered arms, unthinkingly holding them close and tight as Phosphophyllite stared up at them with those unbearably bright, intolerably innocent eyes.

“Out of all 28 of us, my hardness is scale is the lowest at 2.”

Phosphophyllite blinks. Even like that, tainted with mercury, they really were such a beautiful and radiant little thing.

Stupid.

“The others are going to worry,” Cinnabar said. “We should get going.”

--

The way I am, I can’t do anything for anyone. All my life, I’ve known that.

“Help me! I want you to help!”

“No.”

Always having to be so careful—and then there’s you. So very careless. So carefree.

“T-Then...! I swear I’ll find you a job that only you can do! One that’s way more fun than the stupid night patrol!”

I resented that about you. But, truth be told...

“So—don’t talk about going to the moon anymore! Okay?!”

They couldn’t bear to look back. With how weak they really were, they were sure whatever face Phosphophyllite was making would be enough to break them. Especially with how desperate they sounded.

“Okay?!”

It really was too much.

--

“The sea didn’t have any good jobs for you. Sorry.”

Phosphophyllite was in pieces, a chunk of their face missing until Cinnabar spotted it in the nearby bowl, tucked under the shade of two long tusks of agate. Their legs, however, were nowhere to be seen. Waves washed up, lapping at Phosphophyllite’s sullen, broken face.

“Starting tomorrow,” they said, lowly and quietly. “I’m going to try harder.”

Their remaining eye flickers upward, pleading and pitiful.

“So, forgive me? Cinnabar?”

Cinnabar’s head ducked.

Stupid. So stupid.

“I won’t.”

Phosphophyllite laughs, at that. They aren’t even upset.

“You’re so strong. I knew you’d say that.”

Cinnabar slumps, wanting nothing more than to be swallowing up by the mercury flowing through.

“...come on.” They dispel it best they can for now, tugging Phosphophyllite up and retrieving them the bowl with the tusks. With only their arms, Phosphophyllite hold onto it all tight. They’re quiet, even as Cinnabar says, “The others are worried about you.”

And so, they drag Phosphophyllite back, with Phosphophyllite only blearily staring at fluttering mercury all the while. It isn’t until Cinnabar finds a place to leave them that Phosphophyllite speaks up again.

“Next time, I’ll save you.”

Even like this, you’re so achingly careless.

They didn’t respond verbally, instead turning away and leaving them be. Their arms cross, and they grip tight enough to crack.

Truth be told, those words—made me happy. Even though they hurt so much, too.

What an ugly thing to think.

I’m so stupid.

--

I’m so stupid.

Phosphophyllite’s cheerful, shining face remained imprinted on their mind just as their hand remained imprinted in mercury on that stupid clipboard that Phosphophyllite forgot about. Inconsiderate. Thoughtless. Useless. Bright-eyed. Innocent.

So very radiant.

“Cinna! Cinnabar! I’ll find you a job that only you can do! One that’s so much more fun than the stupid night patrol!”

Cracks running throughout.

“I’ll save you.”

The gleam of gold, shimmering in the sunlight.

“You even lost your arms?”

“No, I just needed a little change.”

Phosphophyllite’s smile was strained and pitiful, but their eyes were downturned and tired. A far cry from how they used to be. They changed.

Gems don’t change.

“O-Oh, but...! I’m still searching for a job for you...!”

Am I supposed to be happy that you remembered?

“The search is going well.”

Liar.

“No, um, seriously, think of a big, unexpected, surprising event, like, uh... Shockingly quick. Yeah.”

You’ve lost both your arms and legs in less than a year—

The thought ached so bad that Cinnabar wondered if they’d crack from the effort of voicing it. So, they don’t. Phosphophyllite is so obviously lying to placate them, and they’re so painfully bad at it. So, it doesn’t matter. None of it matters.

“Whatever.”

If you lose another part of your body, maybe then you’ll finally forget about me.

I don’t want that to happen but—

“It’s not my problem.”

--

They really had changed. They were meeker, more soft-spoken, much more pitiful despite clearly being more physically capable. Sometimes they’d get emotional—Phosphophyllite was still so hopelessly transparent, after all—but when they quieted down, it was as if that brightness dulled.

Not too long ago, just recently, you must have been smiling and laughing and flailing without any worry. And now it’s as if you’re burdened. As if you aren’t already our biggest burden.

Of course, back then—Phosphophyllite also looked upon Sensei with open, sparkling eyes. They always hid in his robes, small and frail, a suitable place to be. Sensei was kind to Phosphophyllite as he was kind to everyone.

They had been similar in that regard. They had been similar...

And, now?

“Do you trust him? Sensei?”

“I’m...still making up my mind.” For one traitorous moment, Cinnabar really wondered and really looked at that twisted expression on Phosphophyllite’s face. “What about you?”

In the end, Phosphophyllite didn’t have an answer at that point in time.

For another traitorous moment, Cinnabar wasn’t sure if they were disappointed or relieved.

That gem who hid in Sensei’s robes without restraint and cling to him so desperately—aah...

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter.

--

It didn’t matter until it did.

“I found one—a job for you.”

For a moment, Cinnabar sees the 3.5 from before, tainted with mercury and desperately holding out their clipboard for them to grab. Phosphophyllite looks at them with that same force of will, but—

But...

“It’s a job I can’t do with anybody but you. Please...help me.”

Where’s that sparkle?

“What about the fun?” Pathetically, they’re trembling under such a dull yet determined gaze. “You said it would be fun. This doesn’t sound like fun.”

For months now, Cinnabar dwelled over those desperate words. They mulled and lingered on such ridiculous thoughts. For months.

That’s not a very long time, but Phosphophyllite had lost their arms and legs in that time.

I bet they don’t even remember. Because they were just so reckless. One winter and you changed that much... Isn’t that unfair? Isn’t that cruel?

“It’ll be one that’s way more fun than the stupid night patrol. Your exact description. Did you forget...?”

I shouldn’t be surprised and yet—it’s just so upsetting. How stupid. So stupid.

They really were stupid, because Phosphophyllite’s face twisted up in that unpleasant way again.

“Uh... N-No. No, sorry. It’s not fun. There’s nothing fun about it. Fun’s impossible. S... Sorry.”

They really were stupid, because Phosphophyllite made another pitiful face, head hanging, eyes low and downturned. No sparkle. And fading determination.

“I want you to help me expose Sensei’s relationship to the Lunarians.”

They really were stupid, because they should’ve expected this, and it’s still so upsetting to hear.

“That’s not fun at all!”

“Right?!” Phosphophyllite manages to catch their breath, and then, “You asked me what I was going to do...about Sensei... So I started by trying to look for the truth. But once I started doubting, everything seemed about him seemed so suspicious. In trying to search for clues, I’ve had to keep lying to everyone... I... I...”

Phosphophyllite nearly trembled, and Cinnabar can’t help but notice that their alloy is distorting. Their arms and fingers are becoming misshapen, the alloy quivering and pulsing.

It’s not all that dissimilar to mercury, but Phosphophyllite is in a lot more control than Cinnabar usually is.

Well. Even if it’s not by much, I guess they are still a higher hardness level.

It’s a surprisingly bitter and sardonic thought, and it’s one that feels so shameful when Phosphophyllite is speaking so softly. About matters that were so recent that they were perfectly fresh memories.

Phosphophyllite quivers over them as if they were fresh wounds.

“I don’t even know if I can see things for what they are, anymore.”

Phosphophyllite is pleading with them so pitifully.

“I want you by my side, Cinnabar,” they say. “That way, I can hear what you think about all this.”

That someone needs me—I should be happy. Deep down, I know this is what I’ve always wanted.

But.

It’s not like I don’t understand, it’s not like I can’t recognize turmoil. Phosphophyllite really is struggling with all this. Stupid, reckless Phosphophyllite. You’re still the idiotic 3.5 youngest causing problems for everyone. I feel for you, though, I really do...

But.

You really think I haven’t been through all this before, idiot?

“And?” They can’t look at Phosphophyllite at all. It’s fine. They don’t want to see their own past stupidity and dull suspicions reflected back in a face that was supposed to be carefree and radiant. “Say you find out that Sensei has done something wrong, unforgivable, even—what then?”

Phosphophyllite didn’t have an answer. Of course not. Cinnabar doesn’t have one either, and they’ve been mulling on this longer.

“If you haven’t thought this through enough to answer that...” If you can’t outdo me in this, at least... “I can’t help you.”

I can’t do anything.

“...I’m not surprised.” Slowly, but surely, Phosphophyllite’s gaze rises to meet their own. It’s a leveled stare, one that’s completely unfitting. It’s so unpleasant, the words even more so. “You’re terribly smart and extremely careful, Cinnabar. That’s why I can’t do this without you.”

Phosphophyllite turns away before Cinnabar can.

“I’ll be back. I’ll think about it. I’ll give you an answer. I promise.”

Phos leaves, gold and mint green reflecting starlight, and Cinnabar can only watch. Watch as they get further and further away.

It’s not fun—being the one who gets left behind.

“...if you had just wanted to team up, then I...”

Even if you were different, even as you became more and more different... If it was you...

The night watch was colder and lonelier than usual.

--

Phosphophyllite didn’t approach them again for a while, so they remained isolated. They could tell that a few not insignificant things happened, but the last they checked, Phosphophyllite was still as they were. Phosphophyllite was also smiling with some unfamiliar gem. Cairngorm. They must have been Cairngorm. Phosphophyllite had been running around trying to get everyone to memorize that name, after all.

Cinnabar didn’t care that much. All the other gems seemed happy, at least. Perhaps they, too, were grateful for Phosphophyllite’s smile. Even if it was but a pitiful recreation.

It’s better than nothing.

All the same, it doesn’t really matter. Not at all.

Phosphophyllite is finally acting a bit more carefree. It stings. But it’s also a relief. They haven’t forgotten that. They haven’t fully forgotten it. Maybe they miss it as much as I do.

It still doesn’t matter, but...

Maybe, just maybe... Things would be...fine enough.

--

Carefree, careless Phosphophyllite. Ridiculous, reckless Phosphophyllite. Radiant, bright Phosphophyllite.

It doesn’t even look like them anymore.

Their spindly flailing arms were gone. Their trembling, clumsy legs were gone. Their head of beautiful minty green was gone.

Cinnabar covers them back with the blanket, unable to keep looking.

When they wake up—they won’t even have the same smile anymore. It’s gone. It’s really, truly gone.

They have to back off, because the last thing Phosphophyllite needs right now is to be stained with mercury while comatose. Again.

Cairngorm would likely shatter something if anything happened to the head of Lapis Lazuli. And Cinnabar would shatter if anything happened to the remaining piece of Phosphophyllite.

“...night patrol is going the same,” they said dryly. “Stupid. And not fun. But, still better than that idiotic plot you came up with. When you said you were going to think about it, I wasn’t expecting you to take over a century. Idiot. Stupid. So worthless.”

They end up coughing a bit of mercury, but they manage to make it recede so that it doesn’t cause any damage. They’ve gotten a little better at it, at controlling it. Of course the only reason why their control slipped in the first place was because of that stupid, stupid Phosphophyllite.

“You should’ve just asked to team up,” Cinnabar mutters almost bitterly. “You didn’t need to overcomplicate something that could’ve been so simple. Idiot. Dummy.”

And despite theirself, the mercury still bubbles at their fingertip. They can still replicate a dangling, faceless Phosphophyllite as they had looked before all this. Frown deepening, Cinnabar stares as the shape shifts—to Phosphophyllite with the shorter hair, and now an unfamiliar gem with the head and long lustrous hair of Lapis Lazuli.

Lapis Lazuli.

Lapis Lazuli hadn’t been anything like that reckless idiot at all.

...so what’s going to happen? How much more will change irreparably?

Gems weren’t meant to contemplate such questions.

Cinnabar could only sigh.

“Oh!”

And then they almost cracked from surprise. But they calmed down quickly, scowling as they turned to Diamond skipping in, carrying a pot of flowers.

“Cinnabar, you’re visiting Phos as well?” A laugh. They set the pot aside to clap their hands in delight. “That’s so lovely! I’m sure Phos will appreciate it!”

“If that idiot ever wakes up,” Cinnabar snapped. “I don’t really want them to bother me anymore anyway. They’ve caused enough trouble.”

“Oh... So things are still that passionate between you two...”

“S-Shut up! I’ve told you over a thousand times now that it’s not like that!”

And they’re still so flustered over it. Somehow that’s more annoying than anything.

“They’ll wake up,” Diamond said, and their smile has noticeably shifted. “Even if it takes hundreds of years, they’ll wake up again for sure. Phos hasn’t been sleeping as of late, so this is just them making up for it.”

Cinnabar scoffed, even as they hesitated, eyes downturned and avoidant of the body. Even as Diamond is straightening out the sheet.

“So much had changed quickly. It was rather chaotic, wasn’t it, Cinnabar?”

“With that idiot asleep, things are back to slow and uneventful,” Cinnabar replied. “With the exception being when someone gets captured or a new gem is born, of course.”

“Yes...” Diamond trails off. “It’s how things used to usually be.”

A pause.

“Well, Cairngorm is managing pretty well, in case you’re curious,” Diamond chirps, lacing their fingers together. “They check on Phos a lot. You two might get along...”

“Pass.” Cinnabar waved their hand. “I should get going. I need to rest up for patrol.”

“Cinnabar, wait.”

Surprisingly, they do stop. And they do wait.

“When Phos wakes up, you’ll welcome them back too, won’t you?” Diamond asks. “I think—it would be a wonderful thing to wake up to. Everyone welcoming them back. Things are going to be different, after all, considering Phos’s state.”

Their state. Their reckless state.

“But it’ll still be Phos. I’m sure of it.”

But what kind of Phosphophyllite will it be?

They don’t know but—

All the same... I want to see them.

“...I’m going.”

Even if those carefree days of yours are gone, I still want to see you.

“Bye, Cinnabar,” Diamond says softly. Cinnabar doesn’t look at them as they go on their way.

It’s cloudy out. It’s going to be cloudy tonight. But even if it wasn’t, it’s not like the Lunarians will show up anyway. It really doesn’t matter.