paint you picture perfect

Calan could sense her discomfort, but he hoped she could sense his as well. She could just ignore him...! Not when she was in his house, cleaning up his mess that he didn't want to be cleaned, withinout asking first.... So what if she was doing him a favor? He didn't want her here! Not now, not when he was on the edge of...

Versailles was deaf. He had forgotten.

Calan stalked over to her, positioning himself in front of Versailles. She had no choice but to look at him. "I said," he began, ignoring the fact that his hands were shaking, "Why are you here? The person you love isn't here. So why the fuck do you care?"

Don't ask. Don't ask. Just don't ask him why his hands were shaking.

He simply couldn't bear to respond. Not then.

Calan's mask was crumbling. Confusion and grief were poking their ways through his rage, and the feeble shaking began to spread through his whole frame.

"I want you out," he said, his strong voice marred by cracks and faults obvious even without sound. "I don't want you here. He's not around. Get out."

And just like that, Calan's resolve was broken. His entire body quivered and shook, his eyes gleamed with U shed tears, and he wanted nothing more than to break. He just... He wanted to ruin. Everything. He wanted to burn the whole world to the ground and let himself die with it.

But he was stuck. He was stuck here. Just....stuck. There was too much alive within him to fade.

Calan didn't have a verbal reply to Versailles. He didn't know what to say. All the preteen knew was that, when Versailles gave up on him... Just like that? When she said she was leaving and would never return? Something deep inside just... broke. He didn't know why. He didn't even... Didn't even care about her...

But future Calan did, and he was still there. His memories were breathing, just locked deep inside.

And he didn't want her to go.

So Calan shook, silent, turned away from her now as the first two tears rolled down his cheeks.

Calan didn't know what to do. He was so confused, by the world, by his mind, by this girl. This whole night was confusing, and as yet another memory became clear to him, he choked on a sob.

He could hear Versailles throwing up in the bathroom and he just didn't know what to do.

Calan didn't even know what he wanted. Her out? Her to stay? Did he care about her at all, or... What was this? What was this immense confliction within him, this battling of preteen values and the hidden mind of a man in love?

All Calan knew was that he wanted it to stop.

His body in autopilot, Calan slumped with his back against the bathroom door, quivering arms wrapping around his knees as he buried his face in them. He sat there, silent, crying, wishing, waiting - for what, he didn't know, but something. Calan wished he knew-—

anything.

He was just so painful confused by it all... And he missed her. His mother, his first love... His second? He missed her... Whoever "she" was... And he didn't want to feel so alone.

Calan hoped Versailles was alright, but he didn't know what to do.

Calan jerked out of the way as Versailles nearly tripped on him, shooting upwards to catch her in case she fell. It was instinctual, something he felt he'd done before - catching her - but... When? When had it become so natural?

He faced her as she stood outside the bathroom, his eyes bloodshot and desperate — for what, he didn't know, but something. "He's not gone," Calan whispered, searching her eyes. "He's... I can feel him. He's not gone. He's... trying... okay?"