Archive of Our Own ^beta

Kris scrapes a coarse rock across latticed steel, making melodic clinks as it passes along the rungs. It sounds like the windchimes the Holidays would hang up during the frigid months, clanking out nature songs and filling the cold, lonely nights. In many ways, it's nostalgic– in sound, in action, in place. But they aren't too keen to reflect on the past right now.

They're rather focused on the present. On the boy in front of them, parallel to them on the bench. They're much more interested in him. In his present.

And right now, Ralsei rests his head on folded arms atop the table– paying no mind to the peeling coating surely stabbing into his arms, nor the old cobwebs and fallen leaves brushing past his legs with the wind. Not much has been said since they got here, a cozy calm having washed over the scene. Kris isn't used to such stillness. Inactivity makes them restless, fidgety. But how could they bear to end it? They can't. Not with him.

Ralsei hums as the cloud cover rolls along, letting a beam of sunlight hit him just so he can see its crimson behind his eyelids. “Is the sun supposed to make you so… sleepy?”

Kris gives a lazy, one-armed shrug that isn't seen. They cross their arms over the table, laying their head down to mimic his pose, a gesture that also isn't seen but counts for something, to them.

“Yeah,” They mutter over their forearms. “Sometimes.”

“That's lovely…” Ralsei replies dreamily, his voice airy as if floating on the wind itself. “Everything here… is so lovely.”

Kris thinks of red-stained snow, corkboards, the smell of aged wine, a crackling dialtone. Still, when he says it, they almost believe it. They want to believe it.

“Yeah.” They agree, because he makes it easy.

They watch him sink into the lull of the natural world he's never known before. Kris supposes that it would be different– exciting, thrilling– if they'd never felt the sun until now. They remember when the spring breeze was a novel thing. When times were happier, where leaves shedding trees merely meant that snow was coming. When walking through this town didn't make their gut twist with rot.

Well. That's all of the past. It doesn't matter here, with him. If they can help it, it never will. Right now…

Kris blinks at a plip of water landing on their nose. Ah. The clouds had come back… The sky is dimmer, the sun's light muted by cumulus gray. Rain begins falling in a gentle drizzle. Only the start of an oncoming downpour, Kris assumes. The weather here has always been spotty like that.

They lift their head, looking at Ralsei across from them, who is strangely… silent. They'd expect a reaction to something he's never experienced before– a giddy smile, a laugh, pure infatuation– but he's just… laying there. Breathing. Relaxed. It's wondrous, in a way.

They wish they could stay here with him forever.

“Ralsei.”

He's quiet…

“Ralsei.”

He stirs.

“It's raining.” Kris says.

“S’nice.” Ralsei mumbles, muffled.

Kris stands and circles around the bench. They poke him. He grunts curtly, but otherwise stays put.

“You'll get sick.” Kris says.

Ralsei bleats uncharacteristically, his face snuggling further into his arms, clearly awake but not wanting to be.

Kris clicks their tongue. “You'll die.”

This seems to rouse him, his head popping up from its resting place, familiarly frazzled. “I– I won't die! J-Just because, I haven't ever really been sick before—”

“You'll die. We'll bury you.” They point firmly at the coarse dirt beneath the bench. Right here under the bench, they say without saying.

“Kris!” Ralsei shoves their hand away, flushing at the hissed chuckle it earns him. “...You're right, we should go. I'm sure your mother would worry if we, um… got stuck in the rain…?”

Kris huffs. “Lightner talk.” They sign bemusedly.

“I-I'm trying to blend in!!”

They give a thumbs up. Doing great.

Ralsei groans, sliding out from his seat sulkily, “Don't tease me, Kris…”

Kris can't help but snicker, bumping shoulders with him when he hobbles to their side. He stumbles, pink still coloring his cheeks as he nonetheless returns it. They beam at him.

“I do hope Susie is there…” Ralsei mutters absently while they shuffle back to Kris's house in step, a paw kneaded gently into the sleeve of the human's sweater.

“Me too,” Kris says lowly, tracing through dirt with their heels just like she taught them. “I miss Susie.”

“I miss Susie…!” Ralsei wails, tugging woefully on their sleeve. “Let's hurry, Kris!” He suddenly races ahead with their sweater in a vice grip, pulling a laugh from Kris as they're dragged along.

The rain picks up, damp ground splashing beneath their feet– exhilarating, familiar, like stormy nights spent playing in the woods. Kris thinks about how their mother will respond when they arrive home caked in mud from the waist down, how Susie will cackle at their soaked heads.

Again with the past, the future. They don't care about that.

All they care about is his smile, his cheering voice, his marveling eyes, the skip in his step. All they need is the now.