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It was quiet this morning, as it nearly always was in the Diasomnia dorms. The students regularly kept to themselves, the only sound from them low murmurings and whispers, and the resounding echo of their shoes through the stone hallways. The birds could be heard fiddling around energetically outside, tweeting and chittering and trying to get his attention, but he only gave them a cursory nod as he walked past the grand windows.
Most other times, he perhaps would have stopped to talk longer, or even opened the windows to let them in, (despite how father scolded him and how clearly displeased Malleus was when the birds found him to be a suitable tree to nest in.) but today Silver had a rather important job to attend to first and foremost. A job that required undivided discipline, focus and patience.
He inclined his head politely at the first years who stopped in their tracks to salute him. He’d long since learned it was useless to try to talk them out of it; most who ended up in Diasomnia were naturally inclined to rule-following and routine, and instilled with a natural respect and awe for those they deemed their authority figures (it, admittedly, was hard not to be when at the top of the list of said authority figures were father and Malleus).
He watched on amusedly as they over-excitedly stumbled off, and wondered if he’d seemed so clumsy as a first year. It was only a year ago, but still seemed so far off and he could still find himself easily sympathising with the feelings of their current first years.
He remembered shooting awake once he was out of the coffin, alert and excited, ready for the day he’d been dreaming about for what felt like years. Father remarked that he’d had the straightest posture of nearly all the first years back then (bar a short red head he’d later come to know as Riddle Rosehearts), and that he’d worried his back would snap if he got any more tense.
He’d thankfully been able to ease himself once more as he approached the dark mirror, meeting its sharp gaze head on with his own, and not breaking eye contact even as it spoke the words his heart had been thundering to hear. He’d been jumping for joy on the inside, but had outwardly only smiled and nodded, going to line up with his new cohorts.
It hadn’t been the most exciting day of his life (living with Lilia raised some rough competition there), but it was certainly up there. He could, clear as day, remember the feeling of the adrenaline in his veins and the sweat running down his back as his name was called, the excitement and dread and joy of it all, he’d struggled to fall asleep that night after.
And even despite his sleepless night, he was still up bright and early the next morning, and had what Lilia, who was used to his almost boundless energy, had called a ‘pep in his step’ as he headed off to class. Ready to start his school life, and ready and eager to not miss a single moment.
The same, of course, could not be said for Sebek.
He finally arrived at his door without any more interruption, almost speedwalking down the hallway for fear of being late for class. He knocked firmly on his door, three times as he always did, and was only slightly surprised when he found it already unlocked.
His roommates must have left already… Silver sighed a deep, long-suffering sigh.
Pushing the door open, he immediately entered without permission. He’d told Sebek, time and time and time again, that if he couldn’t get up in time, then he would have to drag him out on Lilia’s orders.
He made sure to step carefully through the room, making long strides to avoid treading on any of the remains of shattered alarm clocks and obnoxiously green bedding left lying everywhere. There was a noticeable Sebek-shaped lump lying curled in the covers of Sebek’s bed, and he very briefly, for efficiency’s sake if nothing else, considered just grabbing the edges and tearing it off. But he knew that would just make Sebek even grumpier and louder when he woke up, and Silver didn’t want to ruin his morning so actively like that (well, ruin it more than it was already going to be).
The lump didn't so much as twitch even as he got closer and closer, and Silver could see bits and pieces of him poking out from beneath the blanket, all tangled up; a hand laid out near the foot of the bed, a knee bent awkwardly next to his pillow, his head lolling dangerously near the side of the bed in a position that could certainly not be good for his neck.
Beside his corpse-still body there were multiple different kinds of alarms scattered all throughout the bed itself, some modern and some older makes, some simple designs and some oddly shaped gifts from Lilia and his various travels; some still intact and some having met the same fate as the cogs and wood chips left all over the floor. But they’d all seemed to have stopped ringing a considerable while ago.
Silver found his chest hurt to see them all; there were more than he could count. Sebek had certainly spared no expense in them, and Silver found any sense of irritation bleeding away as quickly as it came, giving way to familiar sympathy and sombre understanding.
Sebek’s roommates, and even some students in the rooms next door, had sent in multiple complaints; all regarding the sheer quantity and noise of the alarm clocks. Saying that there was no point in all of them if they never even woke Sebek up, that that lazy asshole can sleep all day for all we care, he’s barely even trying so why do we have to pay for it?
Sebek had simply donned that familiar, thunderous look of irritation when he’d heard that, but had, unusually, said nothing as his roommates stepped on eggshells around him; scared of setting him off.
Silver could tell though, that that look was hurt, far more than it was anger.
Because the thing about Sebek was he tried so hard, everyday for all his life; he put every effort in and did everything he could but this was always one of the mountains he just seemed utterly unable to scale, no matter what was tried.
And Silver knew, he knew it frustrated him endlessly, that it fed into his insecurities and shames, taking that hurt and poisoning it, he had watched as it had turned, morphed, from quiet sobbing to seemingly unending fury; and a need. A need for… something that Silver himself had never quite been able to name; peace, maybe. Longing, quiet, something that was missing; an emptiness that his anger and loudness had formed around in an acidic barrier that left everything else half digested and festering.
He couldn’t name it but he saw it on his face when he looked at Lilia and Silver together, or when he heard Fae, young and grown, casually throwing cruel words at them when they headed to the market. He heard it in his voice when he hummed little melodies and lullabies his father taught him, quietly, near silent, as if he were afraid what would happen if someone were to hear; when he repeated the harsh words he brought back from visits to his human relatives, about his ‘laziness’, his ‘spoiledness’.
He heard it in the hushed tones Sebek had whispered to him one night, when it was just them, under the stars back home in his and Lilia’s cottage.
‘I hate it, I hate them, I hate them so much. I hate… I hate how sometimes…’ He’d choked, something vulnerably angry in his voice, and tear tracks drying on his face. ‘They make me wish that when I sleep… that I won't wake up.’
The words had sounded like they’d burned their way out of his throat, and they burned still as they played on and on in Silver’s head. He’d said nothing that night, had wrapped his arm around Sebek and pulled him close. He felt that anger, that hate, too, at all the people who threw words like stones just because they wanted to see how it hurt, just because they wanted to see how the blood spilled.
He felt that anger a lot.
He felt it now, looking to the sleeping, blank face of his dear friend, his closest comrade.
His face was expressionless, not clouded over, not angry or happy or even at ease. Simply… sombre. Lonely.
Sebek hated being called lonely, and Silver thought that he hated it just as much.
It was quiet this morning, even as the thunderstorm raged on around him, Sebek found comfort by the side of the brook. The harsh rain pelted down unforgivingly, making the water ripple and pulse violently, and the rocks slippery and shiny. The beats of the thunder and lightning made his ears ring, drowning out any of the birdcalls or the pounding footsteps of the forest animals.
He’d taken the barest of shelter beneath a great big pine tree bending dangerously in the wind, he inhaled the smell of wet pine as the needles and leaves shedded and drowned in the downpour.
Storms like this were quite regular here, and Sebek found that they had a certain charm. The lightning here was a pleasant green colour, not at all like the gaudy colourless bursts he may have seen before. It reminded him of Malleus’ lightning. The smell of ozone and wet pine mixed strangely, but well. It felt as if it cleared his senses with every breath he took. Usually whenever there was a storm, someone would come to drag him inside before the worst of it hit, so he seldom had chances like these to simply sit and enjoy as nature worked around him.
Mother and father had always told him to hide until the clouds cleared. So he was always stuck inside, trapped away in the smell of antiseptic and wet wood, snuffing out his candles and waiting for the next strike of lightning to illuminate his room. His parents always became harried when they found out he left his window wide open during the storm, but Sebek cleaned up quickly and without complaint, so they left it alone for the most part.
Eventually, they found that it was almost the only way to keep Sebek in place, keep him awake, even. Put him in front of a window during a storm, and he’ll sit there for hours on end watching and listening as the heavy clouds poured down.
(Just keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t crawl out that window when you’re not looking.)
Still, they never let him outside. It was always, stay inside, wait, be patient. And on more than one occasion, Just drop it! No matter how much he begged.
On the contrary, his family always encouraged him to go outside when the sun was high. A time Sebek absolutely loathed. It was bright, too bright, all the time. And it was loud. Not in the storm-and-thunder-drown-everything-out way, but in the relentless cacophony of individually-discernible-sounds way. (Silver had told him that made no sense, but Silver could shut his damn trap) He’d just rather be sleeping.
His mother always laughed over this disparity. Saying ‘He’s got character, at least!’, whilst his father just sighed, worrying audibly about his youngest son getting enough vitamin D.
Otherwise, they didn’t really seem too fussed over his ‘abnormal’ inclinations, which he’d found himself endlessly grateful for before. He didn't know what he would have done if he’d been banned from the window as a child, forced to burn out there under the sun.
He was still grateful now, but as he dug his bare heels into the loamy, wet soil, he just couldn’t help but regret that he’d ever been forced to miss this.
He tried to dig his heels in deeper, but now he found the soil was getting drier and drier, softer too. He felt as the quickly drying rain churned on his skin, wrapping around him and tangling him like strangler fig. The clouds were turning from a dark, heavy grey to a lighter, softer silver, and he found himself pulled abruptly and unpleasantly from the comfort of the shadow-dark storm, and back into the waking morning sun.
Silver gave his shoulder another firm shake, and Sebek finally cracked his eyes open and stared up at him, uncomprehending. “Whuaatt?” he slurred.
“You’re going to be late for class.” Silver explained simply, voice even. But Sebek shot up like Silver’s words had sent bolts of lightning arcing down his spine.
“SILVER! I TOLD I MUST NOT EMBARRASS THE YOUNG MASTER ON THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL. WHY WASN’T I AWOKEN SOONER?” He bellowed, his voice louder than any alarm clock could dream of being.
Silver sighed silently, he’d been expecting exactly this. “You said you wanted to prove yourself by waking up early on your own. You explicitly told me not to wake you unless it was dire.”
“WHAT! BAH! Curses!” he grumbled, shooting out of bed and making a desperate scramble for his uniform, folded up on the bedside table.
Silver watched all of this, unperturbed. He’d tried to have every faith that Sebek would wake on his own, but he’d known that Sebek always found the dream too enticing to wake of his own accord. “What were you dreaming about this time?”
Sebek didn’t even pause in his rushed attempts to control his hair as he replied. “There was a storm.” His voice was even, but there was an underlying tone of wistful regret that Silver had had a lifetime of experience picking up on.
He nodded in response, his head turned to the door and his expression cloudy. “I see.”
Sebek paid him no more mind as he hurried to brush his teeth, sleep still clinging to his every movement, eager to guide him back to those verdant fields and shadowed skies, where he knew the morning clouds of silver had no place.