Evil Is Pink (bxb)

Chapter 6

When Sticks was forced out of the mines and brought back into his cell, the last thing he expected to see on his cell mate's face was...that.

Tendril stared at Sticks as though he were some kind of monster. On his face was a look of...something Sticks had never seen. No one had ever looked at him like that before. It was a look of horror? Maybe fear...? Sticks couldn't imagine why. Once Sticks was pushed inside his cell, Tendril's face faded back into a neutral grimace.

"You're alive." It almost sounded like a question.

The metal bars slid and clanged shut behind Sticks. His feet wobbled, and he lowered his head. Suddenly, Tendril leapt off his bed and approached him. Upon instinct, Sticks backed away until he felt the metal bars press against his spine. His shoulders tensed, the skin under his eyes tensed, his legs tensed—

Tendril paused. "You're hurt."

Sticks blinked. His body relaxed slightly as he looked at his blackened arms, legs and hands. They were shimmering with blue from the cuts and scrapes he had endured. Tendril tossed him something. Sticks surprised himself when he managed to catch it, due to the suddenness of it.

It was a tube. Unlabelled. An ointment of some kind.

"Use it." Tendril said, watching him.

"...T-Toothpaste?"

"No, idiot. Healing cream."

"O-Oh..." He held the tube in his hands and offered it back to Tendril, "T-Thank you but I'll be okay..."

Tendril raised his eyebrow. His stony expression did not change as Sticks meekly tried to hand the tube back to his cellmate. Tendril did not move.

"If your wounds get infected, you're on your own." He said, glancing at Sticks's black and blue hands. Then went back to his bed, not bothering to take his tube back.

The next day, a Sunday, Sticks woke up feeling sticky, but otherwise pretty alright, save for his incredible hunger and thirst. When he returned from the breakfast and showers, he was met with another one of Tendril's piercing gazes. This time it wasn't horror or fear, nor was it violence, swirling behind his irises. It was intriguing. Sticks did not know if that was a good or bad thing.

"Your wounds are gone."

It was true. Washing away all the black soot and grime from his body, his skin was pink and clean from his blue blood or injuries. He was as smooth as a freshly opened bar of pink soap. Though he had gotten much, much thinner since his arrival to the prison...

Sticks did not like being watched this way. He lowered his head. "I...I guess so?"

"How?" Tendril's eyes narrowed. The suspicion was obvious.

"I—Uhm, I dunno— It's always kinda been this way..." That came out a little too awkwardly.

Tendril stood up and went towards him. Sticks only had the time to take a single step back when, without warning, Tendril grabbed his neck. Sticks gasped, his throat trying to choke out an apology as Tendril began to shake him by the metal collar that would not budge from his snug position on his neck. Then he let go, and Sticks fell backwards, landing on his butt.

"Hm."

Sticks coughed and rubbed his neck and collar. He clenched his jaw, and stared up at his cellmate in a brief flash of fear. "W-Why?"

What was that all about?

Tendril stared down at him. "Your collar. Our collars. They nullify our xenos." He explained it as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "But you healed."

Suddenly, Tendril reached out, and Sticks winced, expecting to get smacked. But it was just a hand hovering over his face. Tendril looked disgusted.

"Quit being such a wimp."

Sticks blinked. He didn't understand what he did wrong. They stared at each other. Tendril kept holding his hand in front of his face.

"Get up."

And so Sticks put his hands on the floor and pushed himself back up.

For some reason Tendril looked bewildered and almost annoyed. His hand retreated. "So you like being a jerk?"

"H-Huh?!" Why was he a jerk? All he did was follow his instructions!

Tendril must have seen that Sticks's confusion was genuine. He scowled, looking at Sticks as though he were an idiot. "So you're dumb too."

Sticks lowered his head.

Tendril continued to stare. "How old are you?"

"Uhm...Two?"

Tendril blinked. "Two...what?"

"T-Two years?"

Tendril's scowl deepened. "You think I'm an idiot?"

"H-Huh?!" Sticks quivered. "W-What did I say?"

Tendril continued to stare at him, regarding him with the kind of disgust reserved for something very gross looking. Like a high definition portrait of vomit or something.

Then, all of a sudden, Tendril's look softened. But, only slightly. "...You're being serious?"

Sticks didn't understand why Tendril would think he would be joking, but decided not to say that out of fear. So he lowered his head in response.

"...You are serious."

"W-Well yea?" Sticks paused, tapping his fingers together, "I-I mean...how old are you...?"

"Fourteen."

"F-Fourteen?!" Sticks gasped. "How come you're still so small?!"

The color drained from his face. Sticks clasped his mouth shut with his hands. Oh no, he shouldn't have said that. Sticks had learned the hard way that calling someone small ("Dad, if you're so old, how come you're still smaller than me?") was a surefire way to get yourself smacked in the face.

But instead of being smacked in the face, Tendril laughed. It was a hearty one too. It was amazing how much nicer and less scary a person looked when they were laughing.

"And how are you so big?" It was the first time Sticks saw Tendril smile. And probably the last. Tendril's default scowl returned pretty quickly.

"So you're not dumb. You're ignorant." He stated with a dry voice. Sticks blinked, not really sure what to make of that. Then Tendril turned away. And didn't say anything else for the rest of the day.