SCP Foundation Oneshots

The Opis of My Eye

The Opia, the ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, that was their best explanation for it the first time they stared Joey in the eye and revealed that they never loved him at all. The feeling of vulnerability and invasiveness strong and harsh in their wake. His pupils glittering, bottomless in their darkness and as opaque as the bottom of the sea or the dear threshold of a dewy forest in its early morning light, they conceived every betrayal and agonized emotion with a clack and shatter and eyes that used to sparkle and shine darkened to a sickly pale.

They noticed Joey's state of liberosis by chance, their eye catching the dewy eyed male curled up in the arms of his oldest cousins, the spite filled glare they received from Mikell was more than enough to inform them of just how well Joey took the news though the way his purple clad form trembled was information enough to let them know that they screwed up harshly.

At every instance where they caught Joey's eyes they were always dewy with unshed tears and dark. Dark as if he were peering through the door of a house, able to tell that there's someone standing there, curled up and defenceless to themselves, but unable to tell if they were truly looking in or truly looking out.

It took months of coaxing and proving themselves worthy over and over to pull Joey from the mauerbauertraurigkeit he threw himself into to make them realize exactly how much damage they caused. 'Joey he's…. He's so fragile.’ Jack Bright spoke to him once in a voice of soft remorse, the scent of roses and rain present, 'Unlike me… He's never been loved, and thought he could never be loved. But then you came along and changed that… And then you did…. T h a t.’ The scent of minuscule anger engulfed by despair ‘'It honestly broke him. It's like he's never there anymore… Because he doesn't see the purpose anymore.’

It felt as if they were midding when they had the other in their grasp once again months after the incident, having the other's body close soothed them though the regret from their actions that still lingered in their form was still there under the feeling of tranquil pleasure of being near a gathering, but not quite in it. Like they're around the council again before the Incident, feeling blissfully invisible but still fully included from the gentle hand and warm tones of words. They felt safe, just as safe as they felt with the knowledge that everyone was together and everyone is ok, without the burden of having to be.

They know that they're still in the wrong, it picks at their brain during their moments of kairosclerosis, their mind picking apart at the seams as it reminds them of what they have done in the past to barely even deserve this second chance, always when Mikell steps into the room and the scent they have grown to love, hate, and then ignore blooms with the sour citrusy smell of anger and disgust. They recognised a while ago that most of Mikell's emotions were always directed towards them, the deep rooted pain and soft assurance, assurance to ‘s a v e’, always directed to the other that grasped them in a gentle embrace.

Joey's pheromones were vastly different from Mikell's, though by blood they shared the same scent of roses as all members of the Bright family have, he always smelt like mahogany and lilacs and grass, sometimes even the faint smell of strawberries escaped under the smell of lilacs at his movements when he spoke. Though now the scent of something m o r e was under the smell of grass and lilac and it never failed to soothe them in ways they never could have imagined. There was always the smell of tobacco smoke lingering against the mahogany that took rest against his hair, conversations not so secret by the pained look Joey always expressed after each encounter, the rainy dirt smell of self rejection almost always present since Mikell started his torment against Joey's wishes, a not so gentle reminder of what Mikell has been trying to do.

Even now when Mikell is sitting across from them, they can feel each hated breath and huff. Though the feeling of Joey tiredly drawing shapes into the table with his finger with short soft sounds of subspaced sleep, other arm wrapped almost nervously around their own, distracted them from the blatantly obvious way Mikell was seething. 05-1 was talking about a Containment Breach from one of the undersea buildings, his scent of oil and sterilized metal almost completely hiding away the soft scent of peachy contentment, and 3's calm sea scent clinging to 1's coat and arms and against his lips, that 05-1 only got when he was alone with 05-3. They are still ignoring what's going on, focussing on the scents of themselves and Joey mostly indulging their thoughts in short “what if”s that came as quickly as they went.