Dion
AlteredTundra
Location: The King House (Riveredge)
Interacting With: Each Other
The Kings were not nor would they ever be the god-fearing sort––Henry King stood testament to that––and so for Astrid, Sunday was a day of rest. There were no scheduled rehearsals, no piano lessons, no ballet. Set homework had already been squared away on Saturday. Church was something attended by pious classmates; she was sure that she would melt into a puddle of sin if she ever set foot in one.
So, the house was quiet. Astrid woke up like clockwork at six o’clock (in the morning, that is) and hid and concealed the darkest of the shadows under her eyes. She yawned her way through her daily routine, and before she left the house, she rapped on her brother’s door, expecting no answer and having those expectations fulfilled.
It was strange, and worrisome. Normally, Astrid would blame Dad, but he’d been suspiciously silent also, tucked away in his study or some other side of the house that she could avoid like the plague. There were three differences this time, though, and Astrid did love to list her anxious observations.
The first discrepancy in Richie’s behaviour was that in all but the worst-case scenarios, he let her in his room.
The second was that if he didn’t let her in his room, he usually at least answered––it wasn’t like she was bugging him! She just wanted to know what he wanted from the store, and to check that he was still alive. A Romero-esque zombie groan would be enough for her!
The third and the most unusual change in circumstances was that Astrid hadn’t seen him since Friday morning. He drove her to school (the problem with being eco-friendly and a nervous wreck in driving lessons), went to his morning classes and presumably skipped out after them. She had walked home, and he was already holed up in his room.
Had he even eaten? It wasn’t like Astrid ever slept for long; she would have heard his door opening and pounced. Either way, she felt like bingeing away the after-effects of what might have been the stomach flu, and whether Richie liked it or not, he was joining in.
And if he didn’t like them, she was going to eat all of the candy bars in one sitting. He would have to save her from herself.
Fresh with supplies from Riveredge’s sole convenience store (because who would head all the way to Main Street to get chips and chocolate?) Astrid rustled the bag and leaned against King’s door, putting her ear against it as if she could hear anything inside but silence. The walls in their house were thick, and the doors solid. “Richie, I brought supplies. Rations. Whatever––open the door. I’m worried.”
Silence met her words, an unending buzz of nothingness that had generated from his room the past two days. Eventually, though, that silence turned into the creak of a bed, a footstep, another, and then finally the sound of something pressing against the other side of the door, A haggard breath escaped the throat of her brother, and shadows swam below the door as he seemed to settle down into a comfortable position to talk.
“You don’t want to see me.” he whispered, sounding unusually small and tame, “I’m a wreck, I’ll freak out.” Another shaky breath, slowly and stunted, as if something was clogging is throat, “I’ve gone crazy, Az.”
No move was made to open the door yet. His voice shook though, wavering perhaps from failing resolve or hunger.
“You were always crazy,” Astrid said dismissively. “Now let me in.”
Another grumble, this one sounding of defeat, and in another moment the lock to the door is undone and King is peeking out towards the hall. His eyes are heavy from lack of sleep, and his hair and clothes look disheveled, as if he hadn’t changed or groomed since the day he locked himself in. The door opened slowly, an inch after an inch, until there was just enough space for Astrid to squeeze in.
Astrid did, shutting the door quietly behind her out of habit. The bedroom she entered was dark, with curtains pulled shut so that no daylight could break in. King’s room had always been gloomy––a place that Astrid didn’t often spend time. She frequently invited him across the hall into hers, because she didn’t want to intrude on her brother’s private sanctum, but she’d never experienced a tumultuous atmosphere of confusion and torment in there before.
She took a seat on the crumpled bedspread. “I brought junk food,” she offered, carefully avoiding mentioning that King looked terrible, and that worry was creeping up her spine one vertebrae at a time.
“Thanks, Az.” He muttered, uncharacteristically tense in every way save for his gaze, which seemed fine flipping wildly across the room as if he were watching various ghosts appear and vanish right in front of him. Even his hands, which usually acted warmly and familiar when in the presence of his sister, shakily reached out to take one of the sweets as if she were nothing more than a stranger. “Sorry I’m-- I’m not doing so hot. Everything’s….Weird.”
He made no move to sit beside her. Hell, he refused to move at all, the only sign of life in him being his wildly search eyes and his softly raising chest.
Astrid’s brow furrowed in concern. “Sit down,” she said, an order more than a request. “Is it that sickness? Are you running a fever?” She hopped up off the bed with intentions of testing King’s forehead with the back of her hand to check his temperature.
“I don’t have a fever.” He flinched away from her hand, using the momentum to loosely flop back down where Astrid had been sitting before. “It’s-- something else. It’s,” King fought for words visibly, his hands clenching and unfurling as everything seemed to evade him. He was confused, maybe even terrified. His eyes continued to watching something invisible, some unknown to Astrid.
“I’m seeing things, Az. doesn’t that make me crazy?” His voice was barely a whisper, and the bag of sweets clenched in his fist shook violently.
“It depends––what is it you’re seeing?” Astrid took a seat next to King and hovered nervously, wringing her hands instead of providing a comforting touch. “You’re scaring me, Richie. It sounds so serious.”
“I don’t know, Az, stop worrying it’s… I can see it.” His eyes finally fell to his lap, and his shoulders quaked with odd tremors. “I see all these colors around you and they’re making me sick, I fucking swear.”
“Maybe like a migraine. You can see auras with those,” Astrid suggested, uncomprehending. “Maybe you should go to the doc’s, get it checked out.”
“No way. I'm never leaving this god damn room.” His hand waved over Astrid’s head, reaching for something that couldn't possibly be there. “You don't get it, I can tell. I can see that you don't get it.” Panic swept across his expression, an emotion formed from the thought of being unknowable and odd even to his little sister. He dragged a hand down his face and fought off waves of nausea, trying to wrap his head around some kind of explanation to give Astrid.
“It's not a migraine– I'm fine when I'm alone. Everything is normal when I don't have anyone else around me but….When you or dad walk by the door I get weird flashes of feelings and colors and I just– I don't understand.” His voice cracked with hopelessness, and King drifted back until he was supported by the wall next to his bed. “I don't know what to do.”
“As long as it doesn’t cause you pain, it might be just… the after-effects of the plague.” Being reassuring was difficult, Astrid mused, when she wasn’t sure what was wrong with King. To see him, the unflappable older brother, flapped was cause for great concern. It was just wrong. “I wonder if you can just, wait for it all to blow over? Get some fresh air, walk around a little bit. Put some sunglasses on––would that help with the colours?”
“I don’t know, Az! Just…” King’s head hung in defeat, “Stop worrying so much. You’re-you’re suffocating me.”
Astrid threw her hands up in frustration. “Fine, fine, what do I know?” She turned on her heel. “But like, Richie, it’s just, you can’t stay cooped up in here until the world ends. Come out when you feel better, okay?”
She paused, and gestured to the plastic bag of candy and treats. “All yours. I ate mine on the way home.” Astrid left the door open behind her as she retreated back into her room through the door opposite, leaving sixteen smiley face stickers staring back at King in her place.
