Welcome to Insanity: Prologue (Pt. 3: Acceptance)

Welcome to Insanity: Prologue

Part 3: Acceptance
"Do you always wear those shades?"

Silas peered over the edge of his book down at the striking mop of white hair and grimaced, but there was no malice in his glare.

Even while he was sitting down, his acquaintance had to look up when talking to him, though the impenetrable obsidian shades made it difficult to tell whether he actually held the held the taller man's attention. Silas moved his bag and slid a seat over, allowing the other room to join him. For whatever reason, the shorter man has a distinct preference for taking a seat beside, rather than across from him.

As expected, his companion joined him on the bench and pulled a bottle of some carbonated beverage or another out of his bag.

In response the blonde (for he had a fresh dye the night before, though as usual it was rather messily done and the ends were tinged the previous brown color) reached into his bag and gingerly retrieved a container. Within was a beautifully crafted Belgium chocolate and vanilla marbled mousse torte dressed with white chocolate and topped with a small wedge of strawberry and a boysenberry.

His classmate's eyes widened, gleaming at the condensation that had started misting over the sides of the container.

The grin that spread on his face was blinding, and he reached for the chilled treat-

-only to fall short as it was lifted but a mere fingertip above his grasp. Close enough for him to feel the frosty air emanating from the container, yet just far enough such that he couldn't do more than brush the moisture clinging to its surface.

He took a lunge and missed as Silas raised it a breath higher. Another swipe at the treat and the container found its way to the table on pâtissier's other side, out of reach of grabby hands.

"That's just mean!"

But Silas had already flipped open his book and was skimming the contents for where he left off, the placeholder dislodged in the tussle. A pale hand slipped stealthily under the table, snaking towards the unguarded container.

Only to have that once again swiped away, and now perched atop the blonde's hand on his far side, safely out of reach.

There was a distraught whine and his second shadow nudged at him, but the taller man remained unmovable.

Having tired himself out, he crossed his arms and sulked quietly. A soft thunk caught his attention and he looked down to find the container and its precious contents in front of him.

Though his eyes remained on the page, a brief smile pulled at his lips as the albino let out a small noise of delight and dug into the treat.

The albino blathered on about various things, often prompting his company for an answer he wouldn't give to his dismay.

Silas was content to read through the afternoon, but prying eyes made him sigh, and he closed the book, turning expectantly to the one seated beside him, "Yes?"

"Your vocabulary sucks. Can you say anything aside from 'yes' or 'no'?"

His mouth twitched, a subtle movement that the albino didn't miss, "Great writers (and people), needn't much to say little."

"Too bad you're not a writer."

This time the blonde visibly twitched, his politely pleasant smile taking on a stiffer plastered look.

"Cheeky little brat." Clearly any and all exasperation had gone over the albino's head, and Silas added on smugly in after-thought. "Though that doesn't mean much with him."

Really, the other was barely a head above his waist, and if he didn't know better, would almost mistake him for a child still.

He truly was a petite person, if compared to a candy bar one might say he was "travel-convenient" or fun-sized, though the latter implications deterred him from further thought.

"There is little need as it is to concern myself with others."

Odd eyes stared at him, brows furrowed slightly, before he turned and let out a sigh, "But it makes for horrible conversation. Speaking of which don't you ever get lonely?"

Silas didn't deign him with an answer, and the albino went on, "You're always by yourself and you don't talk to anyone."

"Just how I desire it to be."

Well now, since when did he become a life expert? Instead he replied, "It's none of your business."

His companion's face fell. What other answer had he expected the blond to give?

Any normal or sane person with even a shred of common sense or social intelligence would have stopped pressing their luck long ago. But of course, the one currently sitting beside him wasn't normal, and his sanity was being put under serious consideration.

Silas glanced down at the determined gaze of the one who insisted on imposing him with his presence.

"But you're my friend."

"On your own terms, yes."

Outwardly he answered, "That makes little difference. It gives little and less the right to intrude upon my thoughts."

His self-proclaimed friend replied easily without skipping a beat, as if Silas hadn't just given him a cold shoulder, "Maybe not, but I can worry. I have feelings too you know."

And then there was a warmth against his side, a slow and gentle transition as his company leaned into him.

The conversation died there as the mental train of though and logic crashed headlong into the brick wall of nonsensical whims.

Forcing down the discomfort at the sudden closeness, Silas snarked to himself, an idle distraction. "Since when does your sentiments have anything to do with me." 

Things quieted down and there was a precious and oh so rare silence that Silas so longed for. But of course it was scarce for a reason.

And the foremost of those problems was currently sporting a cheeky grin at him, "You're surprisingly skinny considering you run the Tea Shop."

And a finger made its presence known in his side.

The blonde jerked, displacing his short-statured company who let out a startled, "Hey!" and landed in a heap on the grass.

Of all the inconsiderate pricks and thorns in his side, "You deserved it."

And so passed a majority of the following days. Days that soon became weeks, and weeks into months. Summer's warmth soon departed, the ensuing Autumn chill following in close pursuit with a frosty nip and onset of rain.

This meant that more often than not the two were indoors in the library, some other facility, or as the albino's favorite dictated location to which the pâtissier could little avoid, the Tea Shop. Left with even fewer places with which to dodge the albino, Silas relented grudgingly and accepted the merry presence.

"For the time being."

In that time, brought into close quarters as only the weather would allow, he found his companion to be a proficient reader with a hearty and nigh insatiable thirst for knowledge. It came as a relief, for the man had half expected his younger company to come inquiring for tutoring, though the albino did have a way with squeezing an extra Hot Cocoa from the other right before closing hours. Hence he would hole up and sip away with a small smile as Silas busied himself with cleaning.

It soon became apparent that the albino could pull his own strings and weight. By day he worked in a morgue "for financian and educational purposes!" or so he had exclaimed, and despite the pâtissier's protest and partial disgust, was always sure to visit the Tea shop after, with immaculate timing. Arriving at 5:30 p.m., where he would then snuggle himself into his favorite plus, and simply talk.

Despite his insistence that it was all very sterile and clean, time and again in carefree banter, Silas begged to differ, certain that their system nor cleanliness, was infallible. The albino though waved him off with a playful smile.

All this time, the Invalid waited patiently for this interim arrangement to end. For their brief companionship to fade with boredom, to finally leave him alone to his seclusion. And it was in honest surprise, that his not-so-cursory companion remained by his side, a smile never far.

After some time, though he knew not when or why, Silas had stopped trying to run him off, or avoid the places where he knew the albino frequented.