Chapter Text
Humans have a deep psychological need to react to visual, auditory and physical stimulation. It’s what kept us alive, what sparked desire, what made muses real.
But this need also created the need for war, the reason someone emotionally shuts themselves out when any of their senses are reminded of deep seated, attic resting traumas.
But the reaction to these senses, the taste of something iron heavy, seeing bright colours flash, feeling the touch of cold ice, hearing the claps of thunder from the room next to you; that desire and disgust mixed.
It made an enjoyable but awfully forbidden feeling that opened new desires, fear and arousal, feeling the throb of an open wound, but endorphins made your head fuzzy and body warm.
Rodya was unsure of what caused Gregor to suddenly distance himself. It’s been like this for a week, the emotionally distant responses, he found a way out of every situation, well almost. But even when she had him in her oh so playful jaws, he’d react in a way that was undesirable. She brewed somewhere in the back. He sat up in front like always, but this time there was a small stream of smoke that floated above his brown hair. Like a flair that she was paid to ignore. She rolled her eyes, staring back out in the distance. She wanted to chuck whatever settled in her stomach (which was very little.), rethink every action, sure she was confident she stayed in his rules, carefully marked out lines on just what he allowed and what she didn’t. Her need to pin him down and dissect him much like well, you know, like a bug, overruled that want. The urge was strong, she wanted to push, to find and piece together why.
As much as she would’ve laughed at the bug joke, her mind was in a tangle. Thoughts tightening and attempting to unlock themselves from each other. Just what did she do? Maybe it was the tensing of a sudden twitch of his arm from a week ago, she got a little careless there, only wanting to draw reactions out of him. But no that’s been done before, they always got over it easily, a simple talk over and agreement that they both were fine, usually done in the moment itself. Maybe it was an off hand joke she made, in poor taste she admitted right after, but he had started presenting the entire being emotionally shut out thing when that joke crashed right back onto its landing strip.
Her mind was a little lost. Barely tethered to reality enough to realize the sinners pooling into the back room until a tanned, freckled hand tapped lightly at Rodion’s shoulder.
“Ay, Rodion, y’know it’s off time, right? Manager just dismissed us” That all familiar voice of a long haired ginger snapped Rodion straight out of her tangled pool of vines. A smile skillfully placed back onto her face, bright and shiny like always. “Really? How convenient, I was just getting tired, thanks Ishy” She got up, towering over the ginger with a big stretch, something reserved for large cats and bears. though the ginger had left with a eyeroll at the nickname alone. As Rodion looked around, nearly everyone pooled into the corridor. It wasn’t a super bad day, but it was long, a little tedious for having to feed the bus a couple times, it wasn’t the best sight, and commonly paired with people trying to bang up Mephi. Rodion let the others pass with a smile and a gesture of the hand, a small hi thrown in for the ones who said it first.
She knew exactly what she was waiting for; and she knew well that her prey had thought the same thing. She could see the mocha coloured hair at the end, as if on purpose he had waited to be last, maybe hoping that Rodion would walk into her room first.
Though a new, unlit cigarette laid in his mouth, she no doubt was gonna be the reason it was lit again very soon. A playful tug on the back of his collar made the man stop as she went to the back of him, a sound of minimal shock came out of him, his eyes trained on the disappearing forms of chattering sinners, some slinking into their rooms alone or together, some lingering in the hall as he could feel her come closer his back.
“Say, Babe~ I wanna talk to ya about something. How’s my room sound?”
Gregor stayed silent. The smile still played on her pale face. She awaited his response. It was a little abnormal that he’d stay quiet for so long, any denial he did usually was for personal time, which he’d apologize for, everybody needs a little bit of me time, especially working on this bus, she understood it well. But she couldn’t understand his reactions recently. Her lips parted again.
“You wouldn’t leave a girl hanging, right?”
She could see his shorter body tense. Her heart ached.
“I’m good. I uh, I have stuff to do.”
She paused for a moment, she could tell he didn’t want to look at her. Her mind wondered.
“Aw really?~ For the rest of our break?”
Gregor nodded sheepishly, head down and eyes trained ahead as if it was programming.
“Yeah, sorry Rodion.”
Rodion stood there, her finger unhooked from his collar. He started walking feeling the pressure on his collar relax. As he walked up that hall, Rodion stayed there, then a small glance from him right before he entered the room, his brown eyes were quickly met by dark blue eyes. Making the man whip his head back straight ahead, entering his room with a soft noise. As if worried or embarrassed he was caught staring back. It would’ve been cute if Rodion wasn’t stressed or if Gregor didn’t present himself like a scared puppy.
Rodion took her loss though. No cute german for tonight, but that made her brain wander back into that pool of dangerous, snaking vines. Waving a hand to anyone she passed in the hallway before going to her room. Closing the door as her face dropped, relaxing to what was likely a frown.
The bitter chill of the room did nothing to dull the thoughts, though, it was unnaturally cold. She could swear she saw frost crawling up the walls of the room as she leaned on the cold wooden door. She’s been in a few rooms, but the sinners are largely hush hush about each other's rooms. It wasn’t hard to imagine exactly what was going on. The faint sound of screams that would play from the window outside, or the noise of children playing, a snowy scene where the streets ran red would repeat itself to much of her dismay. In the better ones she preferred the silence that came with a normal, empty day, even though the noise of children finding happiness in this horrible situation always made her smile.
Though the raining noises of Heathcliff’s room, or the sound of an untamed active sea was enough to hush anyone to sleep. But given their act of being at each other's throats like a python and a hawk fighting fangs to talions, it made most of them pretty grumpy at the end of the day. Suppose that Gregor’s was no better, with how he’s been acting.
It was strange to admit but she almost knew immediately when something was off. But trying to see through what kind of upset he was, it was harder, he always looked like a kicked puppy when he got sad. If he had little dog ears it’d be a cute display, but still not telling in any way.
Rodya made an audible groan, back sliding down the door, hands going from picking at the indents of real wood doors to holding her hair back, hands dug under layers of her own hair, as she stared down at the frost bitten ground. It was traveling, a little quicker than she liked. God if only she didn’t find him so cute.
She ran her two hands through the rest of her hair, the back of her head meeting the door.. Maybe he was having a moment, he’d been sulking away, hiding that arm, actually smoking on the bus, not like that one time, but he still seemed stressed.
No, not stressed, maybe scared. The kind of emotional distance that a hare makes a rapid decision on, the pause right before the dash. She’ll figure it out tomorrow, probably. She’s sure of it, even if she has to really force it out of him.. Also because she doesn’t think she could handle anymore of this entire getting ignored by him, as much as she’d want to admit she didn’t rely on a man, she likes to believe it’d ruin her, something akin to coming home and seeing the house ransacked, or seeing animals on the street, homeless and hungry. Something others would only want to see from afar, never personally.
She sat there for a while, just thinking, but at the same time never thinking. That chill worsened, she could hear the faint noises of the streets getting their punishment then the awful silence, she ignored them, like every other night. Ignoring how her face stung, her eyes dry, how stiff her fingers became, how her body ached against the cold floor,
She got up with a grunt, bubbles between her bones popping loudly, first off with the jacket, tossed it somewhere, then her belt and vest, also tossed, she pretty much tossed her uniform around the room, slipping into some sort of comfortable night dress. She stared at the door, she gave a glance to her bed. She knew most sinners were in their rooms now. It wouldn’t hurt to try now.
With a big sigh, slipping on her jacket once more that had been previously tossed onto the floor somewhere, closing it much like someone would do with a bathrobe, just to be a little decent. She had some sense of pride, okay?
She opened up the door to her room, glanced around and then creeped up to Gregors, gentle knocks against the door. After idling at the door for a moment, she saw the door creep open, lit cigarette hanging from his mouth. They met eye to eye.
“Sorry if I woke ya up babes, I just wanted to see you.”
She smiled, of course they both knew there was a more crushing matter. Gregor gave a quick glance back to his room, and sighed. Why not, as the man creaked the door more open, Rodion felt a real smile tug onto her face. Walking into the room, It was a little cold, and the room looked more akin to a jail cell. It reeked of war time, his mind was in the gutter and it took a glance to tell it.
She spun on her heel, turning to face Gregor as she walked back, standing in the middle of his room proudly. His hair was down, vest off, he looked pretty that way. Too bad that sour expression of trying to ignore her was awful on his face, his eyes cycled around the room, the walls, the floor, the edge of his bed, the window. Anywhere but her.
“Gregor,”
She could swear she saw him tense upon hearing his name, ignoring how he reacted, she shifted on her feet.
“You know why I'm here, right?”
Her voice was quiet, and sweet. She knew she could simply coax this confession of his distance with a few well placed coo’s and body language. Sure of it as she watched Gregor shift, the bulb light between them darkened his face more than it should. He dropped the cigarette onto the floor, snuffing it out with his boot before clearing his throat, wanting to talk, but unable to.
“Mmh.”
That’s his response. Rodion cleared her throat, a step forward made him step backwards, keeping the same distance between each other.
“You’ve been ignoring me, did I do something?”
Her arms went behind her back, hands picking at the cuffs of her jacket as she stood there. This was tense in a way she never liked, it was both sides. She wanted to push but was scared of a shove from Gregor, not from the physical pain but maybe the fact she wouldn't be able to handle the idea that she had troubled him with something she did, and he felt like he couldn’t tell her about it.
“No.. I, hm.”
He stuttered it out, sounded nervous, scared, he wanted to say more, but it seemed his brain shut himself up before he said anything else, fingertips placed up to his mouth for a moment. Rodion wanted to push further, but he saw the way he muttered to himself, his hand going to pick a pack of cigarettes, a single hand skillfully plucking out a cigarette to light. If she had to count that’s been 13 so far in the run of the day, or more, an abnormal amount given he only lights one up when he feels the stress and fear looming over him like a sickness. In the run of a day Gregor depending on how the day goes ranges from very few, roughly 6 cigarettes in the run of the day in the bus, maybe a few before bed and then curling up for the night.
But more than that it starts getting concerning, maybe the burn made him remember being a teenager in the war, smoke burning his throat, the taste of tobacco to dull and compliment the taste of iron in his mouth like a forbidden pairing that thrilled him on further to keep fighting, even though he never even wanted it.
What if he didn’t want this. Her mind stirred as her gaze landed onto Gregor's face.
“Is it me?”
The words fell out too naturally, as if second nature to question her worth, flooding the feeling of something repeating, she stood still. Her hands are going to cover back up her body with her jacket, arms wrapped around her waist now. She wasn’t one to be this sensitive, but while she didn’t want to admit it, the thought that he had lost interest in her made her want to let the world consume her whole. Her mind jumped to conclusions, possible outcomes as Gregor choked on cigarette smoke.
“A- What, No. I-”
He sputtered between coughs, eyes becoming wide.
“Then what is it, what is it Gregor.”
She asked, her tone a bark that just barely implied a bite soon to come, hands coming up to clutch her face for a second, attempting to regulate herself, she could feel her emotions wanting to burst, wanting to spill, her entire body radiating with the feeling of holding back. Her limbs wanted to react on their own, she wanted to wave them around to get her point across, she wanted to drop onto her knees, she wanted to run away, she wanted to hit him, she wanted to cry, yell, stay silent. God it was so overwhelming.
“It’s…”
Gregor glanced away from Rodion’s upset face, the thin ice already broken.
“Gregor, jesus.”
She took a pause, trying to not scream at him, before starting back up, Gregor’s face a complexation of mixed emotions. He looked unsure of himself, shamed but confused, a little upset with the furrow of his brow.
“Look at the state of your room! You’ve been just pushing me away for a week and a half. If there's something just tell me!”
She scolded, gesturing around to the room. You could hear the commotion outside of the window, feel the grittiness of the bedroom floor.
It still seemed like he couldn’t spit it out. Rodion interlocked her fingers, her hands going down to hover over her chest much like hands of prayer, though it was to regulate herself, the grip on each hand tight. Dark blue eyes stared at Gregor, across the room.
“I thought we’ve been over this. We could tell each other anything. Or is that suddenly not in the question? Do you think I'm going to run away because of some bad memory, an action that carries shame?..”
She paused, her breathing heavy now. Her head spinning, she could feel the adrenaline pumping inside of her veins, it’s a waste but her body always reacted to simple arguments like this, with so much fear. It seemed he did as his arm twitched behind him, trying to hide it.
“Rodion. I.. hmn..”
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, he seemed genuinely upset, this was just torment for Rodion. She stared at him for a little bit longer before stomping close to him, though as he tensed a little, he watched her go for the door and not him instead, swinging it open.
Gregor in this as panic inducing moment tensed, though whipped around to see the woman open the door and walk out in long strides.
“Rodion, wait-”
“If you can’t fuckin’ tell me to my face, then don’t even talk. When you decide to tell me why you’ve been practically playing with my head, tell me then. Till then, don’t even speak a word to me.”
She spat out, a bit louder than she wanted. He was confusing to her. She knew how to play into a game he enjoyed plenty, but when he got like this, she didn’t know what to do with herself, his inability to admit things openly to her drove her mad at times, he’s opened up about the most horrible of things to her, and she did too. But suddenly he’d be unable to even open his lips. The door to her room slammed shut. Leaving a kind of silence that nulled out the rushing noises of violent waters, or the thunderous claps of thunder. Who cared if her room was frosted. Who cares if the shimmer covered her walls, her side table, the ceilings, the floor.
Angry that’s all she felt, but maybe also some guilt. She paused in the middle of her room. The frost bit at her socked feet, stinging them as the bottoms of her socks became wet.
She stared down at the ground, for a while, turned, paused at the door. Paced around the floor of her bedroom. Grumbling, mumbling to herself with irritation.
He was so difficult, she understands him, knows what it’s like to not be wanted, to have things unappealable to the common eye. So why did he shut her out like this? As she paused, fingers came up to mouth, touching her lips as she stared at the door. Maybe she was too harsh. Oh god what if she just made it worse for him, what if she's been the force driving him away. She could see the water colour vision overwhelm her.
It’s just, she wants to know that he still loves her. Wants her, that he wants to be around her, hear her voice.
“What is wrong with me..” She sniffled out.
Waterworks flooded down her face. She couldn’t tell if she was still mad at him or mad at herself, she didn’t even want to cry, but the coldness of her room begged her on.
Apart from feeling the dread of tomorrow morning, Rodion went to bed to attempt to calm herself down.