Against The Cold ~ Alberose

Chapter 6

"Miss Iris, he does need better treatment."

"But weren't your potions enough? We're running low on supplies as it is, is it absolutely necessary?"

"I . . . oh . . . I just need more bandages, Miss Iris, please."

There was a long sigh before Iris started talking again. "Alright, I suppose we can spare a few inches. But Sucrose, do not waste it, alright? I trust you know what you're doing?"

"Of course, Miss Iris, thank you!"

Albedo heard some faint rustling from outside the tent. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, feeling a sharp sting in his shoulder.

Damn cut, he thought, itching at his now blood-soaked wrappings. A few seconds later, Sucrose burst through the tent flaps, holding a package of bandages and stitches.

"Oh, Mister Albedo!" she exclaimed, nearly jumping into the air in shock. "Sorry! I'm glad you're awake! I was just talking to Iris and she gave me new supplies. Boy, did I have to barter with her! Apparently, they've been lacking in medical supplies lately, not to mention their lack of food and . . . ."

Sucrose chattered on, oblivious to the fact that Albedo had tuned her out and was rubbing his forehead.

"Hey, are you feeling alright?" Sucrose had come over to Albedo and placed a hand on his knee, seating herself comfortably on his cot. "You look . . . not yourself."

Albedo scoffed. "Funny, Timaeus said the same thing to me just last night."

"Well," Sucrose said, fiddling with a clasp on her bag. "I suppose I'm glad it's not just me who noticed something."

Albedo shrugged and nodded. All his attention was focused on the spot on his leg where Sucrose placed her hand and every fiber of his being wanted to let that warmth and comfort spread all over his body.

Sucrose carefully removed Albedo's sleeve, cutting the deeply blood-soaked fabric with a pair of scissors.

"No more potions today, right?" Albedo tried throwing a grin at Sucrose, but the muscles in his face didn't want to move. It gave him the appearance of a shaken old man, his features sunken and white, as though he were too tired to do much of anything.

"Archons, Mister Albedo, you're paler than the moon! Are you sure you're quite alright?" Sucrose fretted, placing her hand on his forehead.

Albedo swatted her hand away gently. "I'm fine. And again, it's just Albedo to you."

"Sorry . . . ." Sucrose's expression shifted to one of concern. " But Albedo, please . . . what's wrong?"

Albedo and Sucrose locked gazes for a long time, both searching deep into the other's eyes for something neither seemed to know. "I just . . . I'm sorry, Sucrose, really . . . I'm sorry, I'm making you worry over me all the time. I can't stop getting injured, whether it's through experiments or . . . Not to mention you've nearly caught up to me in your alchemical studies, and we don't even specialize in the same type of alchemy! I feel like . . . I feel like this . . . like I-I'm not enough for . . . ." Albedo paused and let out a long breath. "It feels like I'm not good enough for you anymore. That I'm not good enough to be your teacher or your friend."

Never in his life had Albedo been so open with someone, never had he trusted them enough to tell them his own feelings before, especially not to their face. Now, it seemed to hardly matter. Tears were on the brink of forcing their way out of his eyes. Sucrose hadn't said anything for a minute or two, but Albedo could tell she was deep in thought, contemplating how to respond.

"Sorry, Sucrose, I shouldn't have told you that," Albedo murmured. "You've got enough on your plate already, I-"

Sucrose threw her arms around him tightly, being careful not to squeeze his shoulder. "No, Albedo, please don't be sorry. Trust me when I say that you are so much more than enough."