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"What’s the meaning of this, Padparadscha!” They turn at the sound of their name, hands crossed over their sword stuck in the ground. There the doctor is, running full force with their lab coat flourishing behind them. It’s almost comical. Rutile rushing to greet them by this point is no unfamiliar sight, though usually it’s just as Padparadscha is losing consciousness for the next few centuries.
Such isn’t the case anymore. New, inclusion-free slots of their own species hold a comfortable weight in their chest now, and they’ve never been more awake. They still take an inordinate amount of naps, given the sudden shift in, well, living , but being awake is more than they’ve had the past few centuries. Just the first hour with their eyes open was the most they’ve seen of the world in nearly five hundred years.
Their eyes soften on the figure approaching. It’s all thanks to Rutile’s continued efforts that they’re here today. The doctor stops in front of them, hardly out of breath, and reaches forward to grab their shoulders. “Rutile, shouldn’t you be in your office? One of the little ones might need you.” Para covers the hands on their shoulders with their own, but the harsh grip doesn’t soften.
Rutile’s nails dig into the powder coating their outermost layer. “I don’t care about that right now--what’s this about you asking Sensei for a new partner? Is it true?”
It was only a matter of time until Rutile found out, but they didn’t expect it to get around this quickly. Their eyes don’t show any room for Padparadscha’s usual flippant attitude or jokes this time. It’s not as if Para can wish Rutile would be more patient, given they worked for centuries on fixing them. At this point, patience is their specialty.
Para’s hands slide down to Rutile’s wrists, slowly lifting them from their shoulders and holding them out between the two of them. “I did,” they say simply, watching as Rutile’s eyebrows jump up to their hairline.
“What… I don’t understand. You’ve only been awake a few days.” They trail off, studying Padparadscha’s face closely. “Did something happen, Para?”
In a way, they feel a tad guilty. After all, Rutile appears genuinely upset like this with their eyes wide and searching their own for any answer. It’s not as if they’ll find any explanation in Para’s eyes; there isn’t one to be had. At least what little reason there is, Rutile definitely wouldn’t be happy to hear.
Slowly, Padparadscha maneuvers Rutile’s hands in their own until their fingers are locked together and Rutile’s brows are quirking in dissatisfied confusion. “I haven’t thanked you enough for fixing me, Rutile. You truly saved me.”
Confused, Rutile’s head cocks slightly to the side. But they don’t remove their hands from Para’s. “You don’t have to, you know that.”
“You never stopped working on me.”
“I couldn’t just leave you.”
“But I’m not broken anymore.”
Although they can’t really feel it, they watch as the wind blows through the tall grass. It plays in the small strands of Rutile’s hair that reach their shoulders and sends Padparadscha’s own hair flowing like curtains behind them. They don’t bother moving their hair from their eyes, though, and simply wait for the wind to stop before they can look back up at Rutile.
The gem stares back at them, cold and calculating. Their eyes, previously at a loss and upset, have hardened, and Padparadscha is caught off guard.
They expected Rutile to be more… cute, about this.
The doctor’s fingers squeeze theirs tightly, and though it doesn’t hurt, it brings them closer together.
Did Padparadscha misjudge the situation?
Perhaps more had changed in the few centuries they’d been asleep than originally thought. “You’re not broken, correct; I fixed you. Are you saying you wish to go back and fight?”
“I’m not.”
“Do you want to be with another gem?”
“I don’t.” Para tries to regain their stance, tilting their joined hands back towards Rutile as they try and smile. It feels like Rutile is catching on a little too well, but they aren’t one for lying to save face anyways. “But you should have a different partner.”
Rutile’s eyes tighten, and so subtly, they push back against Padparadscha’s hands until it feels like they’re competing. “I didn’t ask for another partner. When did you get to decide what I want?”
“I thought--”
“Thought?” By now, Rutile is pushing their hands with force, elbow out to the side as if they were trying to move a boulder. Padparadscha, never one to be kicked around, simply mirrors the stance. “You’ve been asleep for centuries, why should you decide for me after being awake only a few days?”
Back when the two of them had first been paired as partners, Rutile was a docile gem. They were young, much more than Padparadscha, and seemed overwhelmed at the prospect of working together. Para’s condition hadn’t been as drastic back then, only needing to rest in increments throughout the years. The two of them lived side by side for a long time.
Padparadscha was still awake when Rutile first decided to take up their current practice. The doctor they had at that time was a different gem, now taken to the moon, and the job fit Rutile like a glove. Suddenly, they became more outgoing, hid behind Padparadscha less, and was more assertive when dealing with others. Given, most of their coming out of their shell was for the sake of scolding gems for not taking care of themselves, progress is still progress.
Para was nothing but proud of their partner. Rutile had been a decent fighter, but they both knew Padparadscha wouldn’t be able to fight forever. Their condition was an unspoken inevitability that hung between the two of them at all times. As ever present as the air they didn’t need to breathe.
Until Rutile confronted it head on. Until Rutile decided it didn’t have to be inevitable.
For centuries, Padparadscha watched from a hazy place wavering between consciousness and sleep as Rutile threw themselves into their work for Padparadscha’s sake. As their condition worsened, they were awake for less and less time, unable to even hold a conversation long enough to convince Rutile to let them go. They slept soundly while Rutile tore themselves apart for hundreds of years on end. Every time they woke, the gem was more and more frantic.
In retrospect, Padparadscha never learned much when they were awake.
Something now, some new fire in Rutile’s eyes, has been growing for so long without their knowing, without their being present to witness such a big change in their most beloved person.
Padparadscha stops pushing back on Rutile’s hands suddenly, causing the latter to topple over and send them both plummeting to the ground. They settle on the bottom as Rutile groans and begins to sit up, though their hands remain intertwined on either side of Padparadscha’s head on the grass.
“Don’t make me say it, Rutile.”
“You’re the only one having trouble, Padparadscha.”
“When did you become so assertive?”
“I take care of all the rebellious children. Evidently,” Rutile hums, thumbs running up across Padparadscha’s, “that includes you.”
They chuckle, and Rutile’s expression only lightens marginally. It seems they won’t be getting out of this with good behavior alone. “There are many more children with issues that prevent them from functioning correctly, abnormalities in their makeup that our doctor works hard to fix.”
“What do they have to do with us?”
“There’s no point in us staying together when I’m better.”
Rutile falters, just for a moment. The wind blows again, and Padparadscha watches them plan out their next sentence as their hair winds around their neck. There are many colorful gems within the school, with Padparadscha being the flashiest of them. Among their bright, vast colors, Rutile has never really stood out among them. They keep both their hair and clothing modest, easy to disregard.
But so close like this, lying beneath them, Padparadscha thinks there isn’t a more beautiful gem in the world. Rutile’s sharp, attentive eyes, their lips worrying between a frown and neutrality, and the gentle slow of their jaw are all such lovely features.
It’s a wonder the moon people did not steal them away before anyone else.
Finally, Rutile opens their mouth to speak, and Para continues squeezing their fingers between their own as they do. “You don’t really think that, Padparadscha. I know you.”
“I do. I think you would be happier with somebody else.”
“I spent centuries trying to fix you, hundreds of years, just to spend a few minutes with you.”
“I don’t want to weigh you down any longer, Rutile.”
Rutile leans back, more on their knees and higher above them now. “If you weighed me down, I would have stopped a long time ago.”
“I know, right?” Padparadscha follows them until they’re both sitting up, Rutile straddling the older gem’s legs. Were it the other way around, the doctor surely would have snapped in half by now at the rough treatment. But Para is hard, far stronger--it’s fun to be manhandled by their partner like this. “But Rutile is too much of a good child to let me go.”
“I’m--I’m no longer a child !”
With the outburst, someone like the young gem Padparadscha was partnered with many years ago returns to Rutile’s face despite their words. Their cheeks flush, more subtle now that they’ve learned to restrain their emotions, and Para notices it’s just another difference they weren’t here to experience.
“While you slept, while I worked on you, centuries passed--I’m one of the seniors now, and all those hundreds of years of experience, you’ve missed out on. Half of your age was spent asleep, In fact--” They hold Para’s hands tighter and lift them up between their faces. “ I’m older than you, now.”
Ah.
They really have changed, haven’t they?
Rutile’s brows furrow and they lean forward as they glare at Padparadscha. “Why are you smiling?”
The giggle that tumbles from Padparadscha’s mouth is entirely involuntary, but they don’t stop it. Instead, they finally unlink their fingers so they can stretch out their arms and cross their wrists behind Rutile’s head. “I was just thinking how cute you are.”
“I just said--”
“I know, you’ve matured.” Sweetly, as if Rutile would shatter beneath their fingertips at the slightest touch, Padparadscha pulls the other down by the back of their neck until they can press their foreheads together. The stone beneath their powder resonates against each other with a ‘clink’ before dying into a quiet vibration as their bodies ring against each other. It’s an intimate, sensitive act, to join a pair’s bodies together with the same frequency. Under most circumstances, colliding with another gem is an overstimulating, fierce experience that can leave both paralyzed.
With the care of two bodies that are already this familiar with each other, it’s different. Sacred, sharp, intense. Like realigning every molecule and inclusion in their body to run parallel to each other. Like coming home.
“That’s why you can’t get a new partner, so only I’m allowed to see this side of you.”
Eyes closed as they simply experience the hum of colliding with Padparadscha, Rutile’s expression is more neutral than the flustered anger they displayed before. It’s softer than the face they show to others, though, and that’s what matters most. “I’m not allowed to have another partner now, is it? You need to make up your mind.”
Padparadscha’s laugh is louder now, with their full body, naturally. They accidentally run into Rutile a few more times, and the doctor simply smiles good naturedly as they continue resonating with each other. “I never want to be simple--I have to keep you from getting bored, Rutile. For more and more centuries to come, now that I’m awake to be with you.”
Rutile leans their cheek against Padparadscha’s arm resting on their shoulder, just in time for the gem to remove their hands from Rutile’s neck and slide it up to hold the side of their face instead. Somewhere along the way, Padparadscha finds their face being cradled between two gloved hands as well.
“I’ll be looking forward to it.”