Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Chronic

It was another one of those days when the pain was particularly prominent. Borderline excruciating.

Neiro was by his side, hand kneading the tense knot of his shoulder.

He didn't need to look to see his flatmate's worried expression, nor ask to know that he had called off an outing with their redheaded acquaintance. 

His condition was gradually getting worse, and even Neiro, for all his optimism, acknowledged that there was nothing to be done for it.

There was no helping it, or getting better, just a gruelingly long, torturous, and slow decline.

Why Neiro remained by his side was a mystery. And though he had asked before, had only gotten more questions than answers.

It was moments like these that he despised.

When he was reminded of how utterly helpless he truly was, and the magnitude of his condition.

Such almost wrought a dry laugh from him.

Silas, one of eight Founders and the apex of the Academy, presiding over what was most probably the greatest wealth and collection of human knowledge, advancement, and ingenuity.

And yet none of his power, none of his work, none of it would help him.

Silas was prideful, and it was this absolute defeat that had crushed him.

All attempts did not but impress upon him the futility of his struggle, and he could do little more than prolong the hourglass of his remaining days.

It was a bitter resentment that drove him to leave the Academy and seek solace in a small rural town.

For all his genius and innovation, all the relentless effort, nothing had worked. No amount of intellect, effort, or perseverance would lead to recovery. The more he sought a treatment, the more he realized it was in vain.

Though he loathed to admit so, merely the sight of Esti, and at Times Neiro, brought a bitterness that welled up inside him, seething.

Both were so hale and hearty. So free to do as they pleased. And yet Esti knew not that which he had, taking his fitness of mind and body for granted.

He recalled then a piece of conversation not a week earlier.

Esti had been struggling then with a more complex bit of math. He didn't want for aptitude, but lacked a strong foundation what with Ken being hospitalized and him struggling alone to support them.

It was understandable that the redhead was frustrated, but what he said next brought a sneer to his lips.

"Still, you managed to best me in judo! Not everyone can do that."

Esti had groaned and flopped her head into her arms.

"I'd trade my physique for being smart any day."

There was no substitute for health. No amount of brains would make up for a lacking body, and it angered him so to see how little the others thought of it. It was something that one appreciated only when they weren't in health.

"-ras?"

He snapped to and twisted to peer down at his sole companion, regretting doing so when his head throbbed with a vengeance.

"Neiro."

It must've shone, though he tried to keep his expression light.

"Sy, maybe you should release your projection."

The brunette had been dreading that suggestion.

"I mean, you're having a hard Time keeping yourself fully manifested. And it takes more out of you to stay here right? Especially when you're this ill that it's affecting you outside of your corporeal body... We need to take care of your actual body" He trailed off, concerned eyes scouring his silent companion for anything that would give him insight into his thoughts.

With a withheld sigh, he nodded, "Very well. I'll meet you in the cellar. You remember how to get in I presume?" As always the man was proud, and his question a statement that practically demanded-expected, Neiro know.

Silvery grey hair bobbed as Neiro nodded, "I'll see you there Sy, don't worry, I'll be there before you can miss me!"

A snort escaped him, "I wont miss you."

"I wont let you." He countered just as quickly, a wink and a blinding Cheshire grin on his lips.

Another memory crossed his mind of a similar Time when they ran the Tea Shop together. A simple Time, but one he relished deeply.

"Don't take too long."

"Don't worry, I'll be back before you know it."

Brows furrowed, he fixed the other with a glare, "I don't worry."

"You wont get a chance to. That's how fast I am."

Even now he could still see that cheeky tooth-filled grin right before the albino disappeared out the door.

Silas felt his own quirk up. A small voice wondering if perhaps his flatmate remembered that conversation, or if it was because he did that he made such a jest.

It wouldn't surprise him. How like Neiro.

And how unlike him to be so sentimental.

"Don't take too long."

And somehow the fond smile his flatmate returned told him he remembered.

A hand squeezed reassuringly around his own. Sometimes it surprised him how large Neiro's hands were for his stature.

"I wont Sy. See you there."

And with that Silas closed his eyes. It was Time, and Neiro wouldn't leave until he was sure Silas had dissipated.

Well then--over the stars.

And then he was gone, dispersed.

Neiro stood up from the couch, straightening his clothes and staring blankly at the now empty space where the Invalid had occupied moments before.

Only the two of them were privy to the true identity of the one paragon who presided over the Academy.

It wasn't the epitome of perfection that so many strove to be. Someone calm yet lively at gatherings, composed yet warm, wise, and intelligent, both quantitatively and in the social sense. A man of many faces and talents, who was as much a man of science as he was amiable in social gatherings.

The truth was, as he beheld, having descended into the cellar and pressing the 8 on the wall clock.

A sharp click resounded in the room and a portion of the stone wall swung forth just so.

Neiro entered, and there in an Astral Pod, struggling to sit up, was a sickly pale man with a gaunt face.

Though he had been quick to don on his shades--the real ones, it was easy to tell from his pallid and sunken eyes how far his body had deteriorated.

This was the true face of the infallible Sovereign. Body atrophied so that he was unable to even sit up on his own properly.

Silas--

It truly was an ugly sight. How weak and frail he was now when a mere month earlier he had been managing the Tea Shop just fine on his own.

Unable to reign in and conquer his condition, and knowing that an end was within sight, that he would soon find himself unable to keep up the mask of power and strength that others looked up to him for, he had quietly bowed out.

It brought all sorts of uncomfortable emotions and a rise of unease within him as it reminded him of the mortality and impermanence of the man in front of him.

Once he had wondered what it was that drove someone such as Silas to leave the Academy all those years past, believing it to be embittered fury at the folly of humanity. And in a way Neiro hadn't gotten it wrong.

But now he wished that he remained ignorant of such. Not for inconvenience or anything of the like, simply that he didn't wish it upon his friend to have to endure and suffer so.

In the same breath it was the incurable characteristic that brought Silas to him in a chance meeting. And he would never regret their meeting. If only it could've been without the influence of such.

But Neiro shook those thoughts away. for what little Time they did have together, he would savor, so that it would last him the eternity of his existence on the sad day that the brilliant flame before him was snuffed.

Neiro rushed over, throwing on a grin "Siras!"

An arm went around the man's waist, supporting his lower back while the other curled securely around his shoulders.

Neiro winced at how prominent his bones were underneath the cloth, and encircled his arms tighter around his companion in a hug.

Pulling Silas towards him, he tucked the other's head under his chin and buried his own into the limp hair, mumbling out, "I'm here Sy."

Silas just smiled. A tired gesture, "Thank you Neiro."

It was the same monotone, but barely above a whisper. Yet in its quiet murmurs did he feel just a hint of the warmth and gratitude the other had so grudgingly acknowledged.

"Do you want to go see the koi today? The temperature is perfect today."

Silas's eyes slipped shut, and his head was against Neiro's collar. Almost his full weight was leaning against the albino, for he had not the strength to do anything but.

It was oh so tiring, his atrophied body so weak that he labored to even draw breath.

In a murmur that tested what little strength remained, "I would like that, yes."

Neiro was already setting up his wheelchair and the depressingly numerous accessories needed for him to reasonably manage normal Activities of Daily Living (ADL) throughout the day.

What Neiro didn't hear in his thanks, was a selfish cry that Silas tried to force away.

"You were fast Neiro, but you were wrong about one thing. I missed you, and still do."

He truly was getting more sentimental with age, and inevitably, mortality.