My Alpha Centauri (Completed)

我想是這樣| 10.5

'I don't trust this love...' I cared. 'Not where I going'

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A R T

It's been four days since I vomited up the pill. South stopped eating and East started threatening.

Her voice is nice. One with the air. Shame if the air decides it wants it and doesn't give it back.

I knew what he was talking about, Sobo had scarred me enough to understand what a person meant when they said 'shame if'.

It was hard. A constant threat that said he wasn't going to do anything to my voice, he was going to let some 'unfortunate event' do it for him.

He wanted me to corrupt myself.

'Art.' South said, and I looked up. North wasn't eating his pasta, so I grabbed his fork and force-fed it to him.

I wanted to stay silent for a bit more because that was easier.

'North deserves to know.' His voice was colder than it had been in a while; just like the old South that sat next to me in detention. The silence was cold, the kind that chills your bones and hurts your heart.

'A person stands.' I whisper. 'He looks in the mirror and sees something different. Another person looks at him and sees something wrong.'

'I don't get it.' South whispered, his eyes cold and his fingers colder. I grab his fork and place it in his hand, and then I grab a spoon and place it in his other hand.

'Which one can you see yourself better through?' I asked, my voice soft and gentle because gentle is almost silent.

'The spoon.'

'North, which one can you see South better through?' North glances up from the pasta he was staring blankly at, his expression empty and his eyes emptier.

'None.'

I look back at South and I set the spoon in front of me, so that I can see my appearance and North – whose sitting across me – can see his.

'I see a refection but North doesn't see the same one.' My voice is so quiet it's almost lost amongst the emptiness and the hard.

South nods – he gets it and North glances back up and stares into my eyes, smothering me with that cold, hot stare. I force-feed him again and he just sits there, letting me do my worst.

South flicks a cigarette out of his pocket and I see a work of art. I see a thing that ruins but satisfies, that kills but doesn't kick.

'It's not fair.' North whispers, 'it's not.'

My blood grows cold and I see something in his eyes that I haven't seen before.

'I.' His mouth doesn't move but something in me knows he's speaking. 'I. I love you.'

Suddenly I'm back in the kitchen, back with Sun and back with the record player spinning and spinning.

______

'I love you, Arty.' Sun whispered delicately and it felt nice.

The tiles feel cool against my feet and I glance up back at her, remembering how Sobo's sick.

It's hard to say back because the words clog themselves into my throat and jam so hard that I don't know if I'll ever get them out again,

'I think – I think, I love you too,'