[ ah. for a second, he isn't sure whether he wants to turn more away or tilt his face closer. he is feeling self-conscious and bizarrely isolated, however. maybe because that constant throbbing makes him think of nothing but the contract, how claude's fingernail moved against him to create it, his eyes all magenta and horrific, and he wonders, in a panic, if he's managed to obliterate the contract by doing this.
or, maybe even worse, if it was when he arrived here.
it's, at this point, impossible to keep his thoughts steady on al or the chicken or anything else. he takes a gasp, then he's racking sobs again, suddenly, but with more gasping, nearing hyperventilating. ]
[ it's a lot more uncontrolled and hysterical than before. any attempt to speak makes him take in too much air, then cough, he forgets to swallow and he's definitely bleeding. he can feel it on his chin and frenzied hands come up to wipe.
coughing, coughing, some more aching sobs and, finally: ] I need Claude. I can't— Claude, Claude.
[Al touches his cheeks, knowing there it's any comfort in it, and draws his jacket around the boy's shoulders again. He's never been so scared for someone in his life, felt more helpless than now. Even when Ed lost his limbs, he had some sort of solution, he knew what would help.
Now, he's more powerless than he's ever been.]
Breathe, Alois. Slowly. You're here with me and nothing is hurting you right now. You're not in danger. We'll figure this out.
[ an anguished scream, it's not loud per se, but it's gut-wrenching. it collapses back into sobbing, disjointed mutters of 'please' or 'claude.'
he can't calm down, not properly. claude's always done it for him. he does become dizzy, however; drained. it isn't until then that he tilts his head against al's shoulder, breathing shallowly, blood dripping lightly from his bottom lip. ]
[Al holds him through it, lets him scream out the tantrum, cry until there's nothing left. Time means very little right now. He strokes his hair, arms warm and steady.]
[ he hasn't it in him to move, so he rests there, vaguely lulled even if most of it was tuckering himself out. he wipes his lip with his wrist, swallows, winces. and, al is warm, which makes him desire less to pull away and put himself back in the cold air. ]
Dear one, you can't go biting your tongue like that. Or hurting yourself- it might feel better for the moment, but your body is precious, and it's the only one you've got.
[He strokes his hair, his voice heavy.]
I learned that too.
[It was a heavy admission to make, and one he rarely mentioned out loud, but when he'd first gotten his body back, he'd been too fascinated with sensation. Thankfully it wasn't never near this level.]
[ ah, al has accidentally given him something to hide behind. to feel less weak, less like this. something that won't necessarily work (this is al. a truly good person, after all), but has always worked for the lewd-minded men he's been around before.
the movements are slight, a raised shoulder, half-lowered eyelashes, his lip curls a little, in what should just be the right amount. practiced, subtle, but to the point of perfection. he's already pretty, but he knows how to make himself look even more alluring. ]
[Thankfully, Urahara had warned him well enough in advance that it only caused a small shiver of worry for him. Al took a deep breath, set a hand on top of his head in a fatherly way.]
[ as if al's peered right in through his rib cage. his guts twist. he becomes too aware of the stinging of his tongue, the icy air on his hands, the dirt.
what, exactly, is he to do? how is it so many people catch onto him so quickly? his heart is thrumming against his eardrums. ]
[He doesn't hug him close again. Instead he looks at his eyes, his face, watching him and not the surface. Al's eyes aren't flat or distant. There are lines on his face, worry and caring, a note to his voice that begs Alois to listen.]
[ it has a way of making him feel more vulnerable, more revealing. in the span of a couple moments, he peers back with eyes that are too wide, anxious and uncertain, and then they fall away in irritated shame. he swallows, as he has been since cutting his tongue a little, and digs his fingers into the grass to stave himself from another flinch.
it's good it smarts so much. he hopes claude is feeling it, too, somehow. but, he deserves this. al is unnervingly, perfectly kind, and all alois can think of is how disgusting he is.
just like that, though, he's looking back up, laughing everything off lightly. ]
Didn't you say something like that inside? I heard you. It's fine! Don't be strange. Let's put her to sleep, now. Let's give her flowers. She'll grow her own, too, you know. Isn't that beautiful?
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or, maybe even worse, if it was when he arrived here.
it's, at this point, impossible to keep his thoughts steady on al or the chicken or anything else. he takes a gasp, then he's racking sobs again, suddenly, but with more gasping, nearing hyperventilating. ]
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Did you bite yourself-?
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coughing, coughing, some more aching sobs and, finally: ] I need Claude. I can't— Claude, Claude.
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Now, he's more powerless than he's ever been.]
Breathe, Alois. Slowly. You're here with me and nothing is hurting you right now. You're not in danger. We'll figure this out.
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I need Claude! [ that's livid, the next immediately slips back into desperation, though. ] Please, please I need Claude. Please, give him to me.
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[Reminding him, gently but firmly.]
You have me right now. Breathe.
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he can't calm down, not properly. claude's always done it for him. he does become dizzy, however; drained. it isn't until then that he tilts his head against al's shoulder, breathing shallowly, blood dripping lightly from his bottom lip. ]
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[He strokes his hair, his voice heavy.]
I learned that too.
[It was a heavy admission to make, and one he rarely mentioned out loud, but when he'd first gotten his body back, he'd been too fascinated with sensation. Thankfully it wasn't never near this level.]
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the movements are slight, a raised shoulder, half-lowered eyelashes, his lip curls a little, in what should just be the right amount. practiced, subtle, but to the point of perfection. he's already pretty, but he knows how to make himself look even more alluring. ]
You think it's precious?
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... that doesn't make you an object, either.
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what, exactly, is he to do? how is it so many people catch onto him so quickly? his heart is thrumming against his eardrums. ]
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[He doesn't hug him close again. Instead he looks at his eyes, his face, watching him and not the surface. Al's eyes aren't flat or distant. There are lines on his face, worry and caring, a note to his voice that begs Alois to listen.]
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it's good it smarts so much. he hopes claude is feeling it, too, somehow. but, he deserves this. al is unnervingly, perfectly kind, and all alois can think of is how disgusting he is.
just like that, though, he's looking back up, laughing everything off lightly. ]
Didn't you say something like that inside? I heard you. It's fine! Don't be strange. Let's put her to sleep, now. Let's give her flowers. She'll grow her own, too, you know. Isn't that beautiful?
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All right. Be ready to cover her.
[He lays the hen gently in the hole, watching it, deep in thought.]