Returning to No Applause, Only More of the Same

For a moment, they just sort of stared at each other, as if neither had ever expected to see the other in such a situation. And then, all of a sudden, the mildest look of realization and embarrassment passed through War’s eyes and he turned away from the window. Gerald had no idea what he was up to until he grabbed a hold of one of the many sketches of Gerald lining the walls, and the moment he did, the piece of paper burst into white flame, disintegrating into flakes of snow at his mere touch.

Gerald, in shock, could only watch on as Darius made a move for the intercom, changed course mid-way through and turned to the window, and speaking with his most intimidating and authoritative voice, said: “Inmate Wiedemann, please refrain from using supernatural abilities, or else guards and Fighters will be summoned to apprehend you momentarily.”

War stared at Darius through the glass and clenched his fist, making the snow in his hand crackle and melt. “...I must destroy them.”

As always, War’s voice held such calm oppression that it simultaneously petrified Gerald and sprung him into action. “-War, hold-, hold on! You don’t have to destroy the paintings!” Going by the way War simply grabbed another piece of art, namely the painting portraying War’s perspective of their first meeting, he had no intention to stop. But he didn’t go through with it either. He held the painting, but he was looking at Gerald. And in a single moment, Gerald understood why. He understood why War had a dozen pictures of him, and why he had only now received a painting and why War was too embarrassed to show him the prototypes. “...Are you… ashamed?”

War didn’t move. His face and eyes turned as still and immovable as ice.

“...You painted all these, didn’t you?” Gerald asked, speaking his words as carefully as he could. War nodded. For a moment, Gerald looked at all those paintings of him, some cruder than others, some less alike him than the one he’d gotten. “Have you been trying to paint me for long? Is this all... What have you been trying to do-?”

It was obvious from the look War gave him that he couldn’t say. Something held him back, some silent red-hot form of embarrassment that Gerald had never seen in a fully grown man.

A form of shyness, the kind held in nervousness and uncertainty. “I… I came here to talk. Just to talk.” War listened silently. “What happened today, what you did, what I said… I really did mean it. But now, now I feel like… Like maybe that isn’t the best answer. It isn’t what I want anymore, though I’m not actually sure what I do want. Never had that choice before. But, I think… I think, if I talk to you, I can maybe figure it out.”

And all of a sudden, Gerald felt just as withdrawn and timid as War was. After all, what he wanted to ask of him wasn’t something he’d never asked of anyone.

“War… No, that isn’t your name, sorry, do you-, do you want me to call you Kreig?” Gerald asked, taking a step closer to the window. War hesitated for a moment, seemed confused by the question, but nodded nevertheless. “-Okay, then, um. Kreig. Will you be my friend?” As soon as the words left Gerald’s lips, he felt that embarrassment assault him, making him take a few steps back, his arms waving frantically. “N-, not if you don’t want to, that is, I’m just a kid and you’re some sort of disaster, and even here you’re barely human, so I get if you don't-,”

“Yes.” Gerald hadn’t noticed how Kreig stepped this close to the window. “I’d love to.” There was a slight thrill in his voice, some little sense of excitement and joy that Gerald hadn’t expected.

He was just a kid, after all. A kid and a soldier and someone that shouldn’t even have been able to talk to Kreig. But the game had changed, and here they were. Face to face. “Then… I guess-, we’re friends now?...”

Kreig nodded.

Gerald had only ever had one friend, a kid his age back in his village. He knew the basics of friendship. Loyalty, trust, honesty… All things considered, Kreig did not seem like the kind of man who could devote himself to these virtues. Though, then again, Gerald didn’t know Kreig very well yet.

Gerald nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

And at that, Kreig gave the smallest hint of a smile. “Yes.”

And that was the end of it.

Darius, for his own part, had been enjoying the show a little more enthusiastically than most should have. After all, Inmate Wiedemann was showing genuine interest in another human! Of course, friendship in no way amounted to therapy, but the mere fact that Inmate Wiedemann could form such a relationship with anyone, a relationship that could result in the other person willingly descending to these depths just to tell him they wanted to be friends…

Of course, Darius knew the reasons behind this. Not just because he knew every given detail of Inmate Wiedemann’s life (both before and after his summoning), he also knew of Inmate Speerhalter’s life, since the interrogators had gotten those details out of him quite easily.

Even more damning, they had the footage from earlier that day, recorded using Inmate Wiedemann’s collar, portraying an intimate closeness between the two that transcended reason.

It wouldn’t have been strange for Inmate Speerhalter to utterly despise Inmate Wiedemann and attack him on the spot. He had wiped out his platoon, after all. And yet… And yet, their friendship was able to blossom in such a manner. It was delightful for Darius to see, and when he led the young prisoner out of the room with a smile tiptoeing over his lips and a song in his mind, he was already preparing himself to write the report detailing the situation.

More specifically, he looked forward to recommending all available officers and administrative leaders that Inmate Wiedemann would be eligible to meet his family in around a week, as long as his situation does not degrade.

It didn’t.

During the entire week following Darius’ positively worded report, the two prisoners continued sticking close to each other. During this time, although Inmate Wiedemann never grew talkative (as he wasn’t prone to being), Inmate Speerhalter certainly did. As the days went by, he kept speaking more of his mind, his wording becoming personal and emotional and honest in a new sort of way. He spoke his mind, and Inmate Wiedemann seemed to delight in simply listening to him speak.

On Darius’ request, alongside the assurance that Inmate Wiedemann would surely be mentally prepared enough to meet his family in a week, the people up top made a unanimous decision to allow Inmate Wiedemann to mingle with the Upper-Level prisoners from daybreak to twilight. Although the quality of his food took a hit, Inmate Wiedemann seemed all too happy for it.

Apparently, once evening rolled around, the other prisoners abandoned physical sports in order to play cards and other monotone, think-heavy games. It took a while for Inmate Speerhalter to teach Inmate Wiedemann how these worked, but once he did…

The fact that Inmate Wiedemann’s intellect wasn’t his strong suit became readily obvious.

“Hah! Gotcha, that’s a cleared table, buddy! Shouldn’t have let me finish my tower!” one of the several Empiricists gathered in a circle around a table full of cards said, a crescent moon grin on display as he scooped all the cards on the table into his pile of cards. Kreig, on his own end, was left with a measly gain of two tens, one of hearts and one of clubs. An absolutely useless yield that no sane man would have gone after.

Gerald gave his thick arm a soft punch. “-I told you, ten of hearts is worthless, ten of diamonds is the big ten! Did you mix them up again?” Gerald’s eyebrows were slightly squashed together, lips pouted. They weren’t playing as a team, but any downfall on Kreig’s part was instantly considered to be Gerald’s fault.

“N-, no.” It was a lie, but Kreig really didn’t want to admit it. How was he supposed to know that the three-point super worthwhile card of ten wasn’t the heart but the diamonds? Aren’t the both of them red?

The dealer gave a double rapping on the underside of the table, indicating that it was time for the last round. “Alright, alright, last round.” He dealt out the cards, four for each player and none on the table since the guy last round cleared the table. Gerald was first and began the round by unwillingly placing a two of spades on the table. A few people chuckled, others grinned calculatedly.

A more clever man than Kreig would have recognized that if Gerald placed a valuable card on an empty table, aware that it would likely be grabbed by another player during initial the round, it must mean he had a bunch of other, more valuable cards on his hand.

Two people dealt their cards before Kreig, and both of them gave a grumble before placing a worthless card on the table. And when it was Kreig’s turn, he took a look at his four cards, and placed a two of clubs on the table, right beside Gerald’s. The two cards matched and looked very happy together. Kreig smiled in his heart while the players around him argued whether to correct him yet again or to just ignore it. Gerald, as Kreig’s ‘caretaker’, decided to speak up. “Um, Kreig, you have to use the card if you can.”

Kreig looked at the cards. Didn’t they look happy? He’d feel guilty if he ruined such an adorable friendship, alongside stealing Gerald’s card. So, he shook his head.

Going by the grimace Gerald gave him, it was obvious Gerald knew that Kreig’s reasons for not taking the two of spades was neither clever nor wise. He was all too right.

The two friend-cards were grabbed by an enthusiastic soldier the very next round, who happily explained that always carrying a four had always helped him in tough situations.

The game of cards ended soon after when a pair of guards approached, urging Kreig to leave. Earlier when Kreig left, he did so almost unnoticeably. Now, almost all prisoners were at least somewhat aware that his situation was a bit different. They just didn’t know why or how. Gerald gave Kreig a final wave, wished him a good night, and that was all. Kreig felt pretty good about it all.

It had been a week since he and Gerald became official friends, and he hadn’t regretted it for a moment. Gerald, on the other hand, seemed more astonished the more he came to know Kreig, and not in a good way. The first sign was when Gerald realized, at Kreig’s second round of cards, that Kreig was just not a very smart man. It all went downhill from there. Not only was Kreig an incurable romantic when it came to friendships, his idea of what a friendship actually meant seemed to be somewhat skewed in comparison to Gerald’s.

To Gerald, a friend was someone he could hunt bugs with, someone who gave him short respite from home, someone who made him laugh and made him happy. To Kreig, a friend was someone he could fight a war with, someone he could be truly honest to in every way, someone he would both kill and die for.

This was a problem, since it had happened more than once that Kreig asked Gerald if there was anyone he didn’t like in particular. The first time it happened and Gerald neïvely blurted out that a peculiar seagull with a black dot on his wing kept stealing his bread in the morning, he had to physically step in between Kreig and the gull to keep the man from twisting the neck off of the poor thing.

To Kreig, all life was cheap except for the lives of him and his friends. At this point in time, that meant Gerald and only Gerald. This did not make Gerald happy.

It was an obsession of sorts. All his needs for friendship that Kreig had, all his unused need to protect, all those years’ worth of feelings were all concentrated in a single boy.

But now, that would be shared. Now, Kreig would meet more people he could care for.

His family.