#response drabble

How do you tell a dead man that you love him.

A soft glow was beginning to rise over the tips of the tall evergreens that dotted the horizon of Johto.  Casting a soft shadow over the grounds, even the Spearow were still asleep in the branches and didn’t stir by the waking sun.  There was a sort of bittersweet calm that had settled over the area and spread into the open window of her room.  The quiet was light, dancing on the chill morning air.

But it was unwelcome, unwanted to the woman laying in the bed.

She longed to hear the sound of waves crashing against white, sandy shores.  She long to smell the salt drift up from the tide and into her room.  And she longed to hear his voice complain about...anything.  To just hear him again would be a blessing.

“Still don’ understand how you can stand the smell, girly.”

The glow of the sun started to creep and settle on her sheets.  The photographs adapted glares, obscuring his face from sight.  They were all in perfect condition, all of them perfectly preserved moments in time of one man.  At least a dozen lay scattered over the white duvet.  The woman glanced over ever single one - admiring them from her place against the pillows.

She never wanted to forget that face.

“You just don’t like it because you grew up around it.”

The man on the other side of the balcony snorted, blowing out a puff of smoke and filling the air with the scent of burnt ash and clove.  “Sure.  Go with that.”

“I don’t mind it.”

“Mos’ tourist don’t.”

“It’s been a year.  Am I really still just a tourist?”

Her own fear of forgetting is what made her leave him.  She had been a coward, running from her own mind as if it was some sort of monster she could match.  She wanted to help him, wanted to protect him from everything the world had thrown at him - how could she do that if one morning, she would awaken and not remember his face.

“Has it really been a year?”  He flicked the ashes of his cigarette over the side of the balcony, “Time flies, huh?”

She snapped another picture of him.  He paused, glancing at her.  His brows furrowed, but he didn’t say anything about it as he inhaled once more.  “When you’re having fun.”  She finished.

“Oh, yeah,” He grunted, covering his mouth and effectively blocking his smirk, “Bein’ a model is one hell of a good time.”

One picture stood out among the rest.  Far from pristine, the battered edges gave way to how much she had handled it over the years, the lines and bent edges showing how much time it had been pulled out and admired.  His face was as calm as his features would allow.  The scowl had softened, staring out over the horizon in front of the balcony.  His white hair was tousled about by the wind, his hand holding the cigarette in front of his mouth.  The photo did little to hide the man’s eyes, bright even then. 

She missed those eyes the most.

“I want to make sure I remember.” She replied, setting the camera down.

“You ain’t gonna forget this handsome mug, babe.”

They were too much alike, in some regards.  Too much pain that they insisted on keeping hidden for the sake of those around them.  She could see the weight of his demons, see the damage they did to him.  She wanted to take his cross off his back.  She had longed to relieve him of the pain he bore.  She wanted to tell him everything - wanted to let him know that in the world so dark, he wasn’t alone.

Her cheeks were red and raw with the hours she had spent crying.  Her eyes were blood shot and swollen.  The pain in her chest had grown as her heart tightened and twisted.  She gripped the photo so tightly in her hand, she could swear her arm was going to go numb.

None of it mattered now.

“You don’t know that.”

“And you don’t know that you will either.”  He retorted, finally turning to face her.  His face was set in a scowl.

Would things have been different if she stayed?  Would he still be there with her?  After all this time, what would have happened to them?

It was her own fear that drove her away from the islands.  Would she have been able to do anything to help him?  Would she have been able to get through to him, to offer him the shred of peace she wanted him to have?

She paused, remaining quiet.  He watched her for another moment before turning his attention back to the waves.  His hair danced in the breeze and for a moment, the world was still.  No gang wars, no lackeys to worry about, no worry of what tomorrow was going to bring. 

There was only him.

She wondered if he knew how beautiful he was

The pain in her chest grew. 

Another choked sob. 

How pathetic was she?  She loved him.  More than anything and she couldn’t protect him.  She couldn’t save him like she should have been able to.  How terrified was he in those last moments?  Did he know that death was coming for him?  Was he alone?

Did anyone mourn for him? 

She waited another breath.  She wanted to reach out, to touch him and let him know that she was there for him.  But what was she to this man?  She wondered if he knew how much he meant to everyone around him - to the people that he held dear.  To the grunts sitting in the mansion, who looked to him for guidance.  She understood it was part of the problem, knew too well that the weight of people’s eyes added to his makeshift cross.

She wondered if he knew how much he meant to her.  She wondered if he knew how much she wanted to help him.  To relieve some of the pain - if only for a while.

The smell of clove drifted through the open window.  It took a moment for her to recognize the scent, to understand what it meant.

“Guzma?”

Turning away from her pictures, she tried to sit up from the pillows.  He stood, silhouetted against the overwhelmingly bright light.  Slowly, he lifted a hand to his mouth, tugging the cigarette from his lips.  The smirk on his face was as wide as she remembered, but...

“What is it, girly?”

It was almost peaceful. 

Slowly, he crossed the room.  The pain in her chest grew, tears brimming and stinging the back of her eyes.  No, he was dead.  She got the letter - read it a thousand times.  She saw the news reports, saw the pictures of the aftermath.  It had been so long.

But there he was, as if she had never left Alola in the first place.  His eyes were just as bright, his hair just as curled, the tattoos just as faded against his skin. He eyed her for a moment, before reaching out a hand.  She felt so small under his stare, so frail.  But there was a warmth to him - one she had almost forgotten.

“The pit isn’t so bad.”

“Come on, girly.”  He said, softly, “Up outta the bed.”

She let the picture fall against the blankets.  Without hesitation, she slid her hand into his.  He pulled her up out of the bed, helping her steady herself when her feet hit the floor.

“I missed you,” She said.

He snorted, “Figured you would.”

“Yeah...guess it’s not.”

For a moment, the scent of clove was all she could smell.  And she was fine with that.

“She must have passed sometime during the night.”

The nurse stood up from picking up the pictures that had scattered all over the floor.  Figures, her first week working at the nursing home and already someone had passed away.  She turned and set the pictures on the nightstand, “Who was she?”

“I think she was a Champion at one point.  Not sure though.” 

The girl looked over the older woman’s face.  Her white hair was scattered about, her features soft. At first glance, she could pass for soundly asleep.  “Who’s the guy in the photos?”  She asked, turning away from the dead woman in the bed.

“Not sure,” The other nurse shrugged, “She didn’t really talk about him.  I don’t think she remembered who he was.”

The girl looked back towards the pictures.  Picking one up, she looked over the man’s face.  His smirk was wide, his eyes bright, and the bottle he shook in front of the camera was a cheap bottle of vodka.  He seemed like a real charmer.

Her eyes glanced back at the older woman in the bed.  The smile on her face was calm, unafraid.  “Maybe he came to pick her up?”  She said.

“Maybe.”

It’s alright, it’s okay.  It’s like a spell, the lie can finally fade.  And the lying Pierrot that I was has gone away.

“Oh? You mean you don’t know Ryszard?” she responded in amusement. “Our dear uncle Seff has done something that aunt Crystalia herself would have done. We don’t have to leave the castle grounds to see our twin baker friends anymore,” she explained. Her smirk only grew as she watched her brother’s eyes grow wide at the news.

Of course she would have to try and keep him from pestering Armi too much. Rys may be trying to hide it, but Pepi knew he had started falling for the feistier one of the twins at first sight. Not to mention the fact he had suspiciously started making little figurines of baked goods. In addition to the others he usually made.

“Audwine! We can finally get Audi to meet them! That way he can tell them himself how much he enjoyed their blueberry treats!“ Rys exclaimed excitedly once he had finished processing what he had been told. He then paused a moment and looked down at his clothes. At the moment he was still in his more royal attire, though it still had bits of pink incorporated into it, and went into thought. 

“And know my dear brother Rys faces the similar dilemma I was before he came,“ Pepi mused knowingly. “Do I welcome them as I am now? Or as they know me?“

Rys sighed softly and lightly crossed his arms. “Und...do I just leave my glasses on, or switch to my contacts like usual? I mean...they’ll probably end up seeing me in them eventually but...”

“You know, I still don’t get why you don’t like the outside world knowing you wear glasses Rys,” Pepi responded first. “But I say go as you are so they can know how you look around the castle normally. Glasses and all. As for myself...“ she trailed off and changed into Octavian. “I’ll reveal my own secret after I greet them as the friend they know.”

Ryszard could see a bit of hesitation in his sibling’s eyes. He went over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. ”Hmmm...that’s not the normal confident und charming smile I know you for bro,” he said. 

“Well...I’ll admit, I’m...never sure if people will accept the fact I...have two identities that are not the same gender. And most of the friends I even have only know me as Octavian,” Octo said with a little sigh as he turned away from his mirror and looked at his brother. “But anyway! Let’s go grab Audwine and bring him along with us.”

---

A little while later, and a bit of convincing to get their brother to join them, the trio of Richters had gathered some things and soon located the Klein twins. Octavian was the first to speak as he presented the flowers he had gathered for them. “Shams, Armi, we wanted to welcome you to the castle! I hope it won’t be too overwhelming for you and it will be nice to be able to talk to you more.”

“Und I...made these for you as a welcome gift,“ Rys said as he showed them the figurines modeled after their baked goods. “I can’t bake myself but, I sorta can make figurines, so...this is the best I can do,” he explained with a nervous chuckle. “I mean, I know my figurines aren’t the best either but, I...yeah...” he trailed off and glanced away from the twins feeling slightly embarrassed. This was definitely not the usual air of confidence he normally had when he was around them and he could kick himself for it.

“And this,“ Octavian then spoke again as he nudged Audwine forwards. ”Is our brother Audwine. He is the one we would get the blueberry flavored treats for most of the time. Sometimes we got them for our father too, but mainly this one,“ he said with a laugh. “Audwine, this is Shamsel and Armisael, the delightful baker twins Rys and I told you about.“