Summary: " Akito began wondering what Ena was doing after Mizuki left. Was she still drawing? If so, what was she drawing?; was she painting Mizuki, waiting for the portrait to come to life and be able to hold her again, telling her it was all a misunderstanding? "
...
Ena finally comes out of her room after Mizuki's disappearance. Akito is worried.
CWs in tags: Post-Mizu5 events, angst, depressive Ena Shinonome, hurt no comfort
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First year Ruggie Bucchi worked himself to the bone too much.
CW: Fainting, starving, some hints of Ruggie's past, overworking (and physical consequences of that)
A/N: This has some grains of my own personal headcanons for Ruggie.
--
For most people, doing ānothingā would be picking up their hobbies, like writing, drawing or playing videogames. For some people the expression ādoing nothingā means that they arenāt doing anything important nor productive at the moment, which could serve as time to do some tasks; but they choose not to.
For Ruggie, there wasnāt really a ādoing nothingā state in him. His body would always move while doing chores. His ears would always be alert in case he sensed danger or someone approaching him. His mind would always be full on what to do later, what to do next, and lastly what heās doing now. He was always standing, never dozing off too much and never allowing himself to be too comfortable at times.
But this was one of those days that he really needed to think nothing.
Ruggie wasnāt an overthinker; he is a schemer, and someone raised by survival. His thoughts were never easy to read to other people, and Ruggie had picked that ability of not showing and telling from all he had gone through.
His mind was tranquil as long as he had something to eat. No one lives if they donāt eat. Itās a basic human need after all; hundreds of centuries back, humans still had to hunt in order to survive.
But during someoneās hunt season, it is someone elseās prey season.
Ruggie knew he wasnāt the strongest out of everyone. He was smaller than all of his dormmates, even the younger ones. He didnāt mind being tiny; his size wasnāt an issue, perhaps more of a consequence.
The hyena beastman stumbled slightly as he walked through the school corridors. It was common in him, really. His walking sometimes seemed unorganized, unpredictableā¦ Like he could be either planning nothing or everything at the same time. Perhaps it was part of his ādonāt show, donāt tellā mechanism.
He noticed people surrounding him, obviously all of them being newly familiar faces. Ruggie knew what was going around him every day, but today it seemed like he was slowly being distanced from the floor.
He couldāve thought about what was happening to him, but he was incredibly exhausted of thinking. Reality was that he didnāt need much inspection to know what happened.
Ruggie had once again not eaten enough.
It was common for him to not have much money. In fact, he was the most broke student of all NRC, and he was barely in his first year.
His routine to know how to get food was easy. He could fetch a lot of cooking ingredients in his own dorm, plus he actually had to cook for Leona very often and most times he separated a portion of the food for himself. He would also resort to stealing some things, obviously from people he knew were well accommodated financially ā he wouldnāt dare to steal mindlessly like heād done several times before arriving campus.
But his plan was damaged when he doze off for a couple of days.
First, when he cooked Leonaās meal he could feel a bit out of place. He realized the beef had finished cooking long ago, but his mind was in another place. As soon as he smelled a different smell than his usual cooked meals, he turned the stove off like it was a command from his own hand and not a stimulus provoked by his brain.
Leona had began complaining soon after, and Ruggie didnāt get time to cut himself a piece.
A day after that one, the hyena beastman started feeling slower, which wasnāt normal at all coming from him. He realized he had to do something about it because if he wasnāt fast enough to steal or looked intimidating enough for people to fear him, he wouldnāt be able to get food in the quickest way.
His daily chore of buying Leonaās lunch was insanely difficult because of his lack of agility when having low energy. He didnāt get his favorite thing from the cafeteria, so he settled with a close second, and realized the money left to buy something for himself was little.
Or, well, it mightāve been little for anyone, but for Ruggie it was like a miracle he could afford a donut. At least it was his favorite food, right?
Leona didnāt complain much anyway, if anything he accepted the food without looking because he was just sleeping.
A Ruggie in a better state would ask him if he would go to class at least, and maybe also mumble under his breath that Leona was just as lazy as ever.
But Ruggie didnāt feel like doing anything today, so even the usual was tiring.
After chewing the donut for a while longer than it couldāve, Ruggie felt like he had enough in order to survive P.E. It wasnāt his worst subject, in fact, Ruggie was athletic and he could do just fine. But even the easiest things are harder to do with an empty stomach.
After the class, he felt a migraine incoming. Maybe it was from all the yelling everyone did, maybe a brute movement while he flied on his broom.
He could just grab the first-aid kit in his dorm and get an ibuprofen. But, once again, Ruggie was too tired to even do it.
He collected pieces of clothing around the public area of Savanaclaw, most of them being Leonaās. He then put them all to wash.
Between the washing machine and a cupboard, there was a tiny space, just little enough for him to fit.
Perhaps it was because of the exhaustion, but Ruggie couldnāt help it but sit down at that tiny space. The only noise covering his ears was the washing machineās, and maybe it didnāt hit close to home, but he was already used to it since he had to wash clothes every day.
It was just a weird day.
Ruggie Bucchi, tired. So exhausted that he couldnāt even lift a finger and thieve something that wasnāt his.
Way to go.
He couldnāt doze off much more and he knew. But the dissociation was so intense he could feel his vision become partially black. He could feel his shoulders were too heavy. His migraine started propagating to every part of his head, which also didnāt feel very light.
A lazy āahā came out of his mouth before he felt he was no longer sensing anything, not even the washing machineās sound.
[...]
Ruggie felt someone shaking him, but he didn't even bother to open his eyes, they were too heavy. He could also listen someone calling out to him, and saying something inaudible to someone else.
Just how much time did he lose because he felt too tired?
Ruggie didn't like people caring after him, he could do it himself. It was hypocrite of him to think that he could survive all by himself if he wasn't paying attention to everything. How foolish he was, sensing danger at the last minute and giving in.
Another lazy, but this time shaky sound came out of his mouth -- like he attempted to talk, but given his state he was only able to mumble incoherent words.
He'd be back on track in no time. He would become better at this. He would...
But he can't right now.
Give Ruggie Bucchi some time, he'll make a name out of himself. But for now he is only a poor, broke freshman.
Todd felt nervous. Did he want to hear that again or just disappear in that exact moment? He couldn't remember any other time someone said that to himāwell, at least not in the tone Neil said it. Because he could sense some sort of sweetness, like honey. He knew he was being honest about it; that he liked him.
And then Todd panicked, because he wasn't sure he could say it as well as Neil.
Neil Perry was an actor. A 'one of a kind' guy.
Todd Anderson was just an attempt of a writer. Even if his roommate loved his works, deep inside he knew they weren't that good. Obviously, Neil would insult him if he said that out loud, so he kept his insecurities locked in just so he didn't have to worry. And Todd hated when people were concerned about him.
Neil's beautiful brown eyes stared at Todd's blue eyes, and the latter could only wonder where the hell was he allowed to look at. He ended up avoiding Neil's gaze.
Neil was full of warmth. A kind of warmth that Todd didn't know if he wanted to seize or burn with. And who was Todd? The Andersons were cold... he was born cold. In fact, the moment he got to know about Neil's family problems in contrast of his usual demeanor; he felt confused. How can such a depressing family make a son out of pain, and then the son turn out to ease other people's mysery?
Neil was a mystery.
Even when he was staring at Todd, saying that he liked him, and both of them sat on the same bed as sun streaks leaked through the windows of their bedroom... Todd still felt Neil was an enigma.
"..."
Silence in the room.
How could he look at him so patiently? He didn't even wait for an answer. Yet, Todd felt like he owed Neil something. But what could he give? He was just a writer, a mere observer who documented and expressed. But how could he express himself if not with ink and paper? How could Neil say the most beautiful words he had ever heard, and Todd couldn't even stare back at him?
His roommate repeated himself, now with a slightly wider smile: "I like you."
This time, Todd looked back at him. He was back on Earth, back on his and Neil's bedroom.
Neil looked at Todd's blue eyes that shined beautifully because of the light. He didn't mind staring too muchāperhaps Todd was his favorite person to stare at. Perhaps, he really liked him.
And the common Neil Perry would've thrown a monologue about how he realized how much he liked Todd Anderson. As the theater kid he was, he could only spit his feelings out with dialogue, yelling and movements. But the moment was so calm; he didn't want to stop staring at Todd, he didn't want to stop having him close (even if they weren't really that close at that moment), he didn't want to stop observing every single thing he did.
He also didn't mind if Todd stopped staring at him. But the fact that he was doing so only made him happier.
If Neil had to describe Todd, he would say he was incredibly talented and didn't appreciate himself much. Todd didn't need validation, but courage to do whatever he wanted. And Neil always made sure he could get out of his comfort zone; trying to get him into the Dead Poets' meetings, talking with him outside their room, and plenty of other things that, he knew, helped Todd to be in his senses.
Todd was always too careful about things. Neil noticed how he carried a watch with him everywhere, just so he knew the time. He also noticed how even the littlest sound made him jump, at least slightly. Or how he really didn't get scared when Neil was approaching anymore. He felt safe with him.
Both of them were each other's safety.
After some minutes that felt like hours of staring, Todd decided to speak. "Where did that come from?" He chuckled.
"You know, just stating the obvious" Neil responded with his characteristic smirk.
And maybe the staring already made everything obvious. Todd didn't need ink and paper to express how he felt now, neither did Neil need a monologue.
Maybe they just needed each other, and being beside the other was enough. No written, or spoken words needed.
Me: *When my ear buds turn off because Iāve touched them too many times trying to get them to stay in my head* āWho the fuck told you it was quitting time? We have angst to write!ā
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