The Scientist

Keralis

Xisuma pov

As I walked through the newly completed apartment building, everything seemed to take on a new, almost surreal quality. The soft, fluffy carpet beneath my feet was a stark contrast to the harsh memories still fresh in my mind. The warmth of the room, with its neatly arranged furniture and vibrant colors, felt almost alien compared to the cold reality of the fires I had seen on the news.

I ran my fingers over the plush texture of the carpet, feeling its softness as I walked. The room was filled with the hum of the cable TV, which had been recently installed, its screen flickering with news reports of fires spreading rapidly across the city. It was hard not to draw a connection between these current disasters and the fire my brother once orchestrated—a fire that burned hot and bright, just like the ones on the news.

The memory of setting that fire at the lab lingered in my mind. I had used a special incendiary device, just as my brother had instructed. It was meant to ignite everything in its path, and boy, did it work. The fire had almost spiraled out of control, and while I had managed to avoid serious injuries, the burns on my hands were a grim reminder of the danger involved. They were minor, but they still stung every now and then, a small but persistent reminder of the destructive power I had wielded.

As I moved through the apartment, my antennas twitched in response to the various sensations around me—the softness of the carpet, the hum of the electronics, and the distant sounds of the city. My antennas were always sensitive to my environment, and today they seemed to pick up the subtle contrast between comfort and chaos. The apartment was a sanctuary of sorts, a far cry from the destructive scenes I had witnessed and the ones that seemed to be escalating outside.

I was still clutching my old plushie, a memento of my brother that had become frayed and dingy over time. It desperately needed a wash, but I couldn't bring myself to part with it, even just for a moment. I was sitting in the middle of the carpeted floor, surrounded by furniture that felt too distant to use. The storm outside was ferocious, the thunder crashing so loudly that I could barely think, no matter how hard I tried to cover my ears.

The storm's roar was punctuated by a hesitant knock at my door. Startled, I carefully got up, my plushie still clutched in one arm, and made my way to the entrance. As I opened the door, I was met with a sight that took my breath away. Keralis stood there, trembling uncontrollably. His eyes were wide with fear, and tears streamed down his face. He no longer resembled me; he was distinctly himself, but the fear and confusion in his expression spoke volumes.

Before I could even ask what was wrong, another deafening clap of thunder shook the building. Keralis flinched violently, his hands flying to his ears as he tried to block out the sound. The storm seemed to exacerbate his distress, and he shook so badly that I could see the tremors even through his soaked clothes.

I stepped aside to let him in, my heart aching at the sight of his vulnerability. "Come in, Keralis," I said softly, trying to keep my voice steady. "You're safe here." I gestured for him to sit on the carpet, where it was a bit more sheltered from the storm. As he settled down, I sat next to him, still holding my plushie, and offered him what little comfort I could.

The storm outside continued its relentless assault, but in that moment, my focus was entirely on helping Keralis find some semblance of calm. I handed him my plushie, and as soon as he took it, a slight sense of relief seemed to wash over him. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to offer a small comfort amidst his fear.

Keralis, still visibly shaken, reached out for me. Though I had set clear boundaries, it was evident that he needed some physical reassurance. I gently pulled him into a hug, my heart breaking as I felt him latch onto me tightly. His sobs were muffled against my shoulder, his body shaking with the intensity of his emotions.

What was unusual was that through this physical connection, I could actually feel his fear and trauma. It was as if his emotions were transmitted directly through our touch, amplifying the depth of his distress. The rawness of his terror was palpable, and it hit me hard. His fear was so profound that it was almost tangible, seeping through the cracks of his facade.

I held him close, doing my best to offer comfort and stability. The storm raged on outside, but here, in this small, shared space, my focus was solely on being there for Keralis, providing a sanctuary from the chaos both outside and within.

As Keralis cried himself to sleep in my arms, I faced a dilemma. I wasn’t sure how to handle the situation, especially with him so vulnerable and entwined with me. I gently tried to lift him and move him to the sofa where he could settle more comfortably. However, even in his drowsy state, he clung to me with a desperate grip, pulling me closer as if he couldn’t bear to let go. His fear was palpable, and it seemed to intensify with every rumble of thunder.

The storm outside continued its relentless assault, and I could hear the chaos it was causing within the apartment building. The sounds of fear echoed through the walls—people shuffling from apartment to apartment in search of safety, the birds above taking refuge in lower levels to escape the noise. My antennas twitched with every movement and noise, picking up on the collective anxiety of everyone around us.

I focused on Keralis, trying to provide the solace he needed. I gently stroked his hair, hoping the soft, rhythmic motion would offer him some comfort. The storm's roar was a constant backdrop, but in that moment, my priority was to soothe the one person who needed it most. I stayed there, cradling him, and doing my best to offer a semblance of peace amidst the storm’s fury and the palpable fear of the apartment building.

I decided to turn on the TV and crank up the volume, hoping it would provide a distraction for Keralis. The noise from the television cut through the thunder's lingering echoes, giving him something else to focus on. I wasn’t paying much attention to what was on; I just let it play, hoping the familiar hum of cartoons would offer some comfort.

We ended up watching cartoons for hours, the colorful animations and cheerful voices offering a small reprieve from the storm’s earlier chaos. Keralis, still nestled in my arms, seemed to find solace in the shifting scenes on the screen.

Eventually, as the storm subsided, the first light of dawn began to filter through the windows. The darkness outside gave way to the soft, golden hues of morning. I glanced at the clock and realized that the storm had passed and the sun was rising. It was a new day, and with it, the promise of calm and normalcy after a night of fear and uncertainty.

Keralis, still clinging to me but now more relaxed, stirred slightly as the morning light touched his face. I continued to hold him close, feeling a sense of relief that the worst had passed and hoping that the new day would bring a sense of peace and renewal.

Both of us were utterly spent, and I decided to take a practical approach. Gently, I lifted Keralis in a bridal carry, which seemed to both surprise and fluster him. His cheeks flushed a deep red, and he stammered out something that sounded like "Sh-shashwambam?"

I paused, looking at him in confusion, not quite understanding what he had just said. His voice, now sounding distinctly different from mine, was filled with embarrassment, and he fell silent after that, not meeting my eyes.

I carried him to my room and carefully placed him in my bed. He was so emotionally drained that he didn't resist, merely curling up under the covers. I settled in beside him, exhaustion washing over me as well. As we both lay there, I could sense the weight of our shared fatigue. The storm outside had left us both emotionally and physically drained, and the soothing comfort of the bed quickly lulled us into a deep sleep.