Archive of Our Own

Sometimes Amo feels like she owes the whole world an apology. For not being more. For letting things rot in her mind. For forgetting to act like a human, with all their parts intact, to try harder.

She used to look into the creases of her palms and see a river of failures, none capable of outwardly erasing the feat of the forbidden fruit, each one sinking her a little deeper into the ground. 

Until warm gloves reached out to her and she slowly learned where she stood and learned exactly who she belonged to — herself. 

It was strange, this new love. The kind of love of being known. The cleaners were so open to it. It was refreshing, like an old door being opened after so long. 

It didn't erase the past, but it made living a little easier. 

Now, instead of an apology to the world, she wants to show her appreciation. To the cleaners, for rescuing her from that long-haired woman, but more importantly, to thank Rudo. 

He’s the reason why she was blooming instead of curling in the tower. Her love now runs like water towards everyone (kind to her); it tastes like sweetness in every aspect instead of iron.

…Yet sometimes she still flinches. She has times when she believes the cleaners carve her name into bark until the sap bled like a stigmata. She spirals and feels that they want her scarred, that they want her branches to bend with the weight of the past again.

And she’ll find Mister in the maggots that reside on the tower’s bottom floors, feasting on the remains of what used to be tender, in the stench of promises that turned rancid and in the decay of every “I love you” lie he said.

But that's all part of healing, that’s what Tomme says! And she wouldn't have Tomme if it weren't for Rudo, so she really wants to show her own love—the real type!

…But Rudo was acting very strange recently.

Amo sat alone in the infirmary, her chair spinning as her thoughts burned like napalm. 

She has to admit that she has been trailing the other teen a lot since her recovery. Either beside him or around the corner, peeking her head around the halls to watch his daily routine. 

She doesn't know why she does it; she supposes he was like her. Intense. A force. It intrigued her so much that she wanted to know him more.

But that means she’s been seeing his little habits that no one knew.

She notices the way he’ll grimace turning doors, or the way he awkwardly holds his tools, like he never held them before, or the way he shoves his hands in his pockets, and acts lazy to use them— that one really pisses off Zanka. Maybe he does that one on purpose, then?

Except that she also noticed that these habits come and go. 

Sometimes he’ll do them for a week nonstop to a few days, then they’ll disappear for a while. But a common factor lies in his job dispatches. 

It made her stomach churn like turning milk into butter. Seeing him so twitchy felt like being pulled backwards and forward at the same time, pain and longing to know why twisted into one impossible knot.

She leaned back on the chair, huffing in her motion. So many thoughts for one night.

Then her knee jerked, sending her out of her thoughts, as the thick door to the infirmary slammed open, swinging on its hinges. She looked up with wide eyes.

She froze when she saw him. Rudo, with the same shitty posture, the same eyes, but carrying the weight of every unanswered question.

The silence between them was louder than the months she was trapped in her tower and cell combined.

“...Are you okay?” She asked, unsure of what to say.

Rudo nodded his head a bunch of times, then nodded his head again, as if he’d missed one.

“Y-yeah…” He stuttered, looking quite lost, “I didn’t know you were gonna be in here…”

She hummed, standing up and brushing off her long pyjama top, “Mm! Amo’s trying her best to be like Eisha, so she’s trying to study every night!”

“Ah…in that case I’ll leave you alone—” 

He half turned away before Amo reached out and grabbed the hem of his sleeve, dragging him back.

“Nu-uh! Rudo here for a reason, and it cannot be good, so you're staying!”  

Amo really wanted to say something that would make his sad and difficult expression go away, but she couldn’t do that if he ran off!

His face drew in an awkward expression, still yet jittery. One eye was twitching. “It’s okay, I-I actually…forgot why I came in here. Hah, you know when you walk into a room and forget instantly what you walked in there for, seriously, it’s so like…annoying.”

Amo covered her mouth with both her hands and smiled nervously. “Rudo’s a bad liar.”  

He stopped making that constipated look on his face. He turned to look at Amo, and she felt like I could see her own face before her eyes.

“Yeah…” He spoke softly.

For a minute, they were quiet, with Rudo staring at the toes of their shoes and Amo staring at his twitchy hands. The muscles jumped, and he kept clenching them in a way that looked almost painful.

Little wrinkles formed between her brows as she sighed. Thinking for a second, she dragged him inwards.

“Wha–”  He stuttered, tripping over his own feet. 

She kicked the door closed behind them, before sternly saying. “Amo has suspicions.” 

“O-of what?” 

“Sit.” She pointed to one of the beds, ignoring his questions point-blank.

“Amo I–”

“Sit.” She growled. 

Rudo looked at her, surprised, but she didn’t miss the slight fear in his look. He sat down.

“Sorry…Amo didn't mean to sound that harsh.”

“N-no, I get it…shitty tone delivery.” he shrugged, staring at his feet. 

Another thing Amo has noticed lately is his hatred of eye contact when he gets anxious. He’ll look everywhere; the wall, the floor, the roof—you name it! 

He didn’t move a muscle on that bed besides a mute gulp. Then there it was, where Amo realised she had zero power. 

Who was she kidding? She could never do any of those things she was imagining. Nothing she could do would actually solve his issues; she doesn’t know how to!

She moved to the chair, wheeling it over to position it in front of Rudo.

…Reaching out when you don’t know how, isn't that what she told him they’ll do together?

And that’s exactly what Rudo had learned; he reached out with those warm hands and held her when she needed it the most…

Amo shuffled on the chair. She sat with her elbows on her knees, chin cupped in her hands. Staring at him.

“Amo really likes your eyes.” She said it slowly, loud and clear. Tomme always breaks the ice by saying something nice.

He slowly looked up from his feet; those red eyes burned with a deep crimson, like the final embers of a fire that refused to die. Amo had always believed the eye was a key to the soul.

“....No one’s ever told me that before,” He mumbled, bringing a hand to one of his eyes. “Ever.”

“Really?” She kept on looking at him. “And your gloves, they're called 3R, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Why do you wear them?”

“My dad gave them to me as a kid.” His glove dropped, and he began tracing over the ring of the other.

“But why?”

He didn’t say anything.

“Sorry, is Amo saying too much?”

“No, it’s okay…” He bit his lip; his knee began to tap. “What was your suspicion earlier?”

“Oh, right!” She perked up, “Amo’s noticed Rudo’s hands have been looking really twitchy lately. Do they hurt?”

“No, they–”

“Don’t lie,” She shook her head, as if acknowledging the thickness and the weight of their situation, then crossed her arms. “You agreed with Amo to extend our hands to people, but you won’t let her do it with you.” 

Amo couldn’t help but feel like there was something else that she should say to him, but all she could do was lift her hand to bring his forward and incase it with her other.

Rudo took a sharp breath, making his shoulders jump. 

Amo froze, her gaze falling onto 3R trapped in her hands. She hung her head, letting go wearily of his hands that he now hugged to his chest. Her expression darkened.

“Sorry…Amo should’ve asked before touching you.” 

“N-no, it’s okay…Should’ve told you before, it’s not fair.” He wrung his hands, shaking his head.

“Did you get injured on a job?” 

“No…It’s—” He was going to dismiss it, again, it was on the tip of his tongue, but her words ran through his head as his mind got shot by little arrows. “It’s always been like this…”

“Can I look?”

Rudo froze momentarily before the pain ran through his arms, making him fly back, his spine hitting the mattress, before rolling over to the side. “N-no…” He gasped.

“No?” She relented, “Rudo’s is so much pain, how do you expect Amo just to stand around!” She yelled, all while his hands curled like pitiful stone structures.

“Is it because you don’t want to let go of 3R?” She asked, looking down at her boots. 

The very same boots that go so well with Amo that they make her go far more than human, but one capable of love. It was these that managed to show her what it was like to fly.

After a moment’s hesitation, she took them off, willingly shedding the comfort of the touch of her humanity for a moment of trust. 

“Rudo’s Gloves are what make him human. Amo doesn't want to let you feel like theres something missing or that you're alone when she helps. Two negatives make a positive, right?”

Rudo’s pain stills. His eyes shifting to the floor, he really saw her boots lying side by side next to the bed, her bare feet kissing cold tile.

“You…You didn't have to do that.”

“If it makes you comfy, Amo doesn’t mind.”

Rudo looks down at his trembling hands; he can feel it. The shaking. The slipping. The ice is growing thinner under his veins, a growing pain like a fungus. Carefully, he grips the cuff of one glove, not yet tugging it off.

“They're ugly…” 

“Your hands?” Amo asked, earning herself a nod from the others, “They can’t be, because they belong to Rudo!”

“Huh?” His face warmed with a flush.

“Amo’s seen a lot of ugly things, and she doesn't think you’ll ever be one.” She affirmed, looking away, a hint of her own blush sweeping across her cheeks.

“Oh…Right…” His face pulled into a tight line like a rope being pulled. A weird feeling settled in his chest, but he didn't understand why; it felt heavy.

Shaking his head, he pushed himself up against the headrest of the bed with Amo’s help. With a tug and another, both of his gloves fell onto his lap. 

Amo watched in silence as he eyed her boots.

His eyes flickered with a moment of hungry concern, but with a slight nod from the girl, he bent down and weakly clasped her boots and dragged them onto the bed, where he settled 3R on top of them like a blanket.

He looked back at her, his arms beginning to shake more violently that it feels like his bones might break. 

“Did the gloves help stop that?” She guessed, itching forward in her seat.

He nodded. And so did she.

Amo now sees the bandages that wound up his arm. Rudo had always liked wearing long sleeves, even if it was under another shirt; she now understands he hides them in shame, or at least that's what she would do…Hide the pain and swallow that pit of despair.

A trail of crimson smeared his bandages, bubbling fresh blood into the dressings. A shot of a heavy metal smell floods her nose, making her stomach feel like twisting a knot that keeps pulling tighter. 

Reaching out, Amo cupped his hand and began to unwind the bandages. They caught on something black and flaky, making Rudo gasp. His mouth opened to retort, then he closed it soon after forgetting what he wanted to say.

“Is Amo making it worse?” Her grip faltered. 

“No,” He grunted, “you're kay, just gonna get worse without the gloves…”

Amo thinned her lips, not sure what to say.

She continued unwrapping the bandages, this time with more care, and once they were off, she let out a breath, looking at Rudo with the same startled eyes as he. (Though she did not know why.)

She stared as a lamb stares at a wolf, with fear and worry, except this was not towards him. 

His skin was almost peeling like flaking paint. Black and red traced swirls in destructive directions. Blood had stuck to the fabric of the bandages like thread off a rag doll’s head. 

The metallic stench began to suffocate the two, as Amo wavered above his arm. Shrugging them back, Rudo turned his head away.

“Told you it's ugly…”

This knocked Amo out of her daze, “No…it was just, Amo was expecting a really big cut, not this, but that's okay!” She smiled, looking too happy for the moment. 

Rudo dropped his jaw slightly, his eyes widening more than they already did. A few mumbles and straight incoherent gibberish came tumbling out of his mouth. “Y-youre not mad?”

“What?” She tilted her head, “Why would Amo be?” 

He was silent for a moment. “I dunno…Kids up in the sphere would just get mad about it…They would get mad that I existed to be fair…”

“That's not nice.” Amo placed his hand gently against his knee. She gave it a little tap and spoke again, “Mister would get angry at Amo a lot too for no reason.” 

“I-...I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Amo’s sorry Rudo went through something similar too. People are mean.” 

“Yeah…” He struggled, pain etching itself raw again.

Amo seemed to notice as she stood up from her chair and brushed off the back of her long nightshirt, which acted more like a dress. It had these huge creases crossing the lines of the stitching, painting, already dark blue shirt even darker. 

Rudo had always seen her in extravagant dresses before, so seeing her in something so casual, it was unusual. 

Not like it was a bad thing, he felt himself deflate as her calm attitude and relaxed attire made the entire situation more friendly and less like an act of a co-worker. 

“Amo’s gonna get some stuff, Amo doesn't really know what exactly will help, but she’s gonna guess, ‘kay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine…”

Rudo watched Amo move around the infirmary. He found himself listening to whatever she was whistling. It wasn’t the melody, which he didn’t recognise, like most songs on the ground, but the way she whistled.

It was perfect, every note clear and true. Nothing was stopping him from getting up and leaving, but for some reason, he didn’t.

She dumped gauze, cream and some other items Rudo didn't recognise onto the bed in one big huff. Tapping her chin and nodding, checking over her items like ingredients, she sat on her stool again.

“Amo’s going to unwind the other bandage now, if that's okay with Rudo?”

“Yeah,” He hesitated, “Y-you dont need to ask.”

“It’s kind too.” Was all she replied with, and Rudo couldn't argue with that. 

It felt weird being constantly asked for permission, but all the same, it felt nice, reassuring that she’s not like the teens back up on the sphere and never will be. 

She unwound bandages there faster than the last with the grace of a swan. She reached for the sediments she brought to the bed as her brows pinched.

“Are the people who did this to you alive?”

Rudo grunted from a mix of surprise and pain, “Ah, n-no, my biological father got sent down here when I was a baby…”

“Good, because Amo would have given him some very nasty smells.” She gave a smile that was far too unsettling.

“Thank you, I would too.” He watched as she rubbed a cotton ball across both of his wrists. “To…mister, I mean, but I’m glad you did what you did.”

She didn't say anything for a moment.“…It was so lonely after.”

“I can imagine….” Rudo nodded, blinking owlishly at the ball soaking up his blood. Red took over the white like a disease.

“And being alone makes you think bad things,” Amo mumbled, reaching for a cream.

“Mm,” Rudo hummed,” Feels like life has just been feeling like an endless attempt to avoid loneliness.”

“But you’re not lonely anymore, right? Because Amos is not lonely with Rudo!” She shook her head, stopping her procedure to hold his hand gently again; after all, holding someone’s hand was always Amo’s idea of comfort.

He gently squeezed hers as much as he could through the tingling pain, “You’re right, but the feeling that it is getting closer never goes away, like I’ll lose you too.”

“Right?... Amo doesn't like being lonely; it makes her feel…”

“Bad? Bitter? Angry? Shitty?” Rudo emphasised all four equally.

She bit her lower lip and laughed, “Yeah, all of those things.” 

Rudo nodded, and Amo nodded back like she was satisfied.

In silence, she rubbed cream into his scars, watching as it fizzled and dissolved into the destroyed tissue. She strictly scrutinised every twitch and jump in breath that came from Rudo, stopping when she gathered when the pain got worse. All while he refused to look at his arms.

Finally, she reaches for the bandages; the last step. 

“Do you think people can stop thinking?” She asks, winding them around his arm.

“I bet you can, at least for a couple of seconds.”

“If that’s all,” Amo hummed, misplacing a bandage and having to rewind a bit, “it’s like you can’t, though, right?”

“Right.” He agreed, falling into silence as he finally gazed down to see Amo hold his hands so gently that he would’ve believed he was made out of glass. 

Rudo saw, as his arms, disgusting as ever, like a slimy deep-sea fish from a hidden world, were being wrapped by warm hands. Warm hands so foreign, they held the same softness as his father, but they held a decaying divine touch; Like flesh to flower. 

His heart sinks into his chest cavity with an itchy heaviness. It’s a simple ache, this yearning. It’s fitting behind his ribs, breathing with struggles. His throat locked up with words, a silence so desperate to be heard. 

Finally, Rudo finds himself speaking.

“Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if we didn’t have words.” 

“Yeah, we’re the only ones who need them,” Amo squinted as she finally finished one arm, making sure the wraps were lined neatly, then she looked up at Rudo straight in the eye. “Animals don’t, and neither do things, like Vital Instruments.”

“You’re right. Look at everything else in the world, we’re completely outnumbered. Especially with all the Sphere’s trash.”

“Yeah, now that Amo is really thinking about it, it’s kind of stupid. Humans are the only ones talking all the time and making problems and everything.”

“...I wish we were living in a vegetative state sometimes.”

“Mm, living without a purpose,” She nodded, resting a finger on her bottom lip, “but that means we wouldn't have each other.”

“But then we also wouldn't need to.” He said promptly. 

They both knew what he was referring to. 

“Maybe, but our pasts don't define us.” She smiled, sort of shyly, “We don’t need a reason like healing and reaching out to be friends. It’s what we have now, but in a different world, none of this happened to us, but we’re still friends!” 

Rudo scoffed softly, turning away. “You're strong, Amo.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you can say all these things already, and it hasn't been long since you joined."

“Because Amo is surrounded by lovely people.” She gently tugged at his other arm and held it. “But…A-Amo still has her doubts, like all her dreams are on hold. Where she thinks that you should've left her in her tower…Or if she didn't…” Her voice trailed off with a hitch.

Letting go of his hand, she turned away from him and pawed her eyes. Rudo bit his lip, hand raising to her arm, hovering over them slightly before clasping them with a weak grip.

“I-I think these doubts are what make us strong. We grew up with bad examples and with flaws, but we keep going, you know?” He took a deep breath, “So despite what happened to us, the fact we’re even having the doubts says so much, that's what I think, anyway.”

“...You have doubts too?” Amo said in a low voice. She rubbed her cheeks with her palms, and in a voice almost too soft to hear, she fretted, “Amo’s sorry you don't need to answer.”

“No, it’s okay...I sometimes think what I’m doing is useless. Every job I go on, someone gets injured, and I feel selfish to keep going for my revenge…”He took a deep breath, then murmured, “I feel trapped,” 

“Like there’s a lion on top of you,” she agreed, smiling at him awkwardly after just crying. Yet still with red hues lining her water ducts, her smile felt genuine. “Rudo is strong, too. You can also say stuff that makes Amo feel better, just as she did with you,” 

He hummed in a silent agreement. Rudo was better with actions than words; they're more Amo’s thing. 

His hand twitched with intense throbbing, making it feel like someone was beating his skin like a war drum. He couldn't help but grunt, bringing his hand close to his chest.

“Oh! Sorry, Amo keeps getting distracted. She’ll finish this quickly!” Her hand quickly shot to the bandages, her other palm open for him to drop his into. 

“Mm…” He lowered his hand onto hers after a second, watching how she began winding her fingers around his like he was readying for a boxing match. “...I wonder what that world is.” He mused out loud.

“What world?”

“The one where none of our shit happened.”

“Oh!” She lit up, hands freezing in place in excitement before continuing, ” Hopefully a place where theres still a bunch of trash so you can dig through, but without the sphere–Oh—and with a comfy place where I can watch a bunch of romance movies like the ones Riyo showed Amo!”

“Ah, that does sound nice…”

“And a place where Zanka can read his books in peace, or Riyo to cut people’s hair, Tomme to drink her wine, and research, and and—” She cut herself off, “And Enjin to get jailed.”

“Of course.”

“Amo hates him.”

“I know you do.”

“Don't know how you like him.”

“Well, he did kinda save my life.”

She huffs, shoulders deflating with minor annoyance.“...Amo guesses that's fair–”

“But he also did nearly traffic me.”

“What?” She stared him dead in the eyes like a deer in headlights.

The other thinned his lips and shrugged. “I don’t actually know, he just kinda threw me to them without warning, think he was testing me or something.”

She looked down to see a row of messy bandages aligned. She pulled them back again.“Amo wants to make an Enjin hate club with you.”

“I–...Yeah, you know what, fuck it, I’m in.” Rudo said, despite a pang of sympathy that ran down his back. Although the man was a dick, he did so much…Biting his lip, he added. “Until he apologises, I mean.”

“And Amo will stick forever; she doesn't care if he does to her.”

“That’s valid, I won’t argue with that.”

“Amo really hates that man.”

“I don’t blame you. I’ll support your group even after.”

“Rudo can be like a spy!”

“Yeah, I can, can’t I?” Rudo squinted at her big smile, trying to replicate it. 

His attempt was bad—really bad, but for Amo it was wonderful. Although he looked like he had just gone away with murder, Amo loved his bug-eyed smile; it was like his origin of healing. 

After a brief discussion over the newly formed Enjin hate group and who to invite, Rudo eventually stopped replying. Amo went off on her own, speaking this and that. Whatever came to her mind, she spoke it: Love, music, movies, ice cream, books. Her mouth moved excitedly, and Rudo didn't know what to reply with most of the time, so he didnt.

He simply basked in the feeling of new bandages and Amo’s voice. He listened carefully to everything she said (It surprised him to hear Amo liked his favourite ground band too!). And she understood that his silence expressed that. 

Like two souls who never had anyone speak their language, they connected fluently.

Finally, Amo passed 3R over to Rudo. They both suited themselves in each watchman item simultaneously. They were without them for so long, but it didnt feel that bad (besides Rudo’s pain, which was inevitable); it was almost like they were the key to their humanity. 

Amo gave a thumbs up to Rudo, seeing as he did the same. Picking up the tossed items on the bed, she stood up at the counter. She tapped her fingers across the marble.

“How was the cream?” She asked.

“Oh, um…” Rudo said, wringing his hands. “It made my arms cold, and it was like a different kind of pain, it was weird… but it turned numb after a while…”

Amo nodded, pushing the cream aside, leaving it on the counter, instead of tucking it away. She needs to talk to Eisha about that… “Amo wishes she could do more.”

“It’s fine, I'm used to it.”

There was a sombre look on her face as she looked back at Rudo lying in the cot.

She turned back to an extra piece of gauze still wrapped in its plastic in her palm. It’s holographic material swam in changes as she turned it, just like sparkles. She froze.

“Amo knows what you need,” She gasped, giving the plastic one more look before putting it away. “Happamine!” 

“Huh, w-whats that?”

“It’s, like, dopamine that comes out when you’re really happy.”

“Oh yeah?” 

“And when you’re really hurting,” she explained, “that’s called hurtamine.” 

“So…was that just hurtamine then?” He tilted his head.

“Yeah, and now post-hurtamine we need happamine, and Amo has an idea!” Closing the last cabinet, she jumped back to her seat.

“..Which is?”

She leaned forward, like she was spilling a secret. “You know that other-world idea we had? What if we make that in reality!”

“...I don’t follow, how?”

“Let's do something fun and forget about everything!” 

Rudo blinked a few times before nodding in agreement. “How’d we do that though?”

“Well, Riyo gave Amo some of her movies, and theres a big TV in her room so…”

“You want to watch one?”

“Yeah, but at the same time with your trash! Amo wants to help you fix something!

“Really?” He asked in the most enthusiastic way he could, bringing his fists up and down.

She grinned at that, “Yeah, it looks super interesting. Rudo is like a mechanic!”

He was quick to flush, averting his eyes and dropping his hands to rub at his neck.“Well…I wouldn't go that far…But um…do you know how to stitch?”

“Amo used to, but she doesn't remember anymore.”

His eyes flicked back up as he said, “That's fine, I got some teddies that need fixing, I can teach you.”

“Perfect! Amo loves teddies!” She was practically bouncing in joy, and she caught how the corners of Rudo’s mouth twitched, which made her even more ecstatic. “What movie do you want to watch?”

“Ah, I don't mind, they're all romantic, right?”

Her brows furrowed for a moment. “Yeah, does Rudo not like romance?” 

“I don't mind it.” He shrugged simply.

She beamed again, grabbing the edge of her seat and swinging side to side, “In that case, theres this movie that Amo thought looked pretty called ‘The Crow’, so I thought if that sounds good to you…”

“It does.” He pushed himself up, “I like crows.”

Amo jumped up, clapping her hands. “Yey! Amo does too, but she prefers Robins!”

He nodded, “I like pigeons.” He added.

“Heh, Rudo kinda looks like one!” She covered her mouth with a smirk.

“W-whats that supposed to mean?”

“Your hair! It goes white to black sort of like a pigeon’s wings,” She pointed out, “It’s kinda cute!”

He felt his face flush, and he covered it with a gloved palm, peeking through the gaps of his fingers.“Eh? C-cute?” He stammered.

“Yeah,” Amo giggled, then to save him from his awkward self, she added, “But Amo saw some new snacks this morning, so she’s gonna bring them to her room! Do you know where it is?”

“Y-yeah,” He dropped his hand, nodding.”I think, Remlin tagged it last time they came over, so…”

“Yup! That's the one.” She picked herself up from the chair and extended a hand out to Rudo. “You pick up what you need from your room and meet Amo in her’s, and Amo will go get the snacks. Is Rudo okay with that plan?”

“Sounds good,” He took her hand and stood up with it. “Could you get some chocolate if theres some..?”

“Okay-dokey!” She sang, skipping to the door, “Amo will race you!” And with that, she ran out with a giggle.

“Hey! Give me a warning!” He called, but since they headed opposite directions, it was in vain.

Shortly after, they both bumped into each other after retrieving what they needed. Amo had her arms full of treats and snacks, nearly tripping over her feet while Rudo carried a small box and two teddies in the other hand. 

One was a wolf with its arms ripped off, and the other was a sheep with a ripped chest. The wolf was more complex than the other, as Amo was just a beginner, yet it satisfied him all the same. 

He failed to see the irony, which Amo laughed at and refused to explain when Rudo stammered at why.

Reaching her room, it resembled a bit of the tower; plushies dotted everywhere, but it was more colourful and less daunting. The lightbulbs were switched from a cold, headache-inducing ray to a warm glow. The walls, instead of concrete, were layered with a clean, striped wallpaper. 

Rudo blinked at the drastic change…his room still had the walls chipped and a bit of the old wallpaper peeling off. “How’d you decorate it so quickly?”

“Amo likes decorating, so it was the first thing she did!”

“Might need you to help with mine…” He mumbled, looking down at her bed. It had a canopy of pink sheets and fake tulips twirling around the bannisters. “Do I put this on here?”

“Yup, Rudo can sit anywhere he wants!” She said, dropping the snacks on the mattress and moving to the TV, where she called out, “Do you like the flowers?”

He was in the middle of sorting his materials before replying, “Yeah, they look pretty.”

“Tulips are Amo’s favourite flower!”

“Oh, lucky that I got you them a while ago then.”

“Heh, yeah…”

It's not like it was her favourite flower because of him or anything…

The TV flashed on with a click, and Amo jumped back onto her bed, remote in hand. She shuffled next to Rudo, where he showed her the tricks to stitching. They had agreed to do it first, or else they would speak over the movie and not focus on it. 

She learned quickly, turns out she never really forgot, just how you dont forget how to ride a bike. Still, she loved every moment of it.

In the middle of her own stitching, Amo saw how Rudo was colour-matching the fabric to the wolf to fix its arms, before reaching out for the dark grey patch he had and dropping it in his hands. He froze, the dawn of realisation creeping down his spine as he sat straight up to look at her.

“I dont–” He started.

But she interpreted. “Amo thinks it’s pretty; not everything needs to be perfect.” She nodded to the flowers from a minute ago, “They dont match Amo’s room, but she still likes them there. It’s a nice change!”

Rudo said nothing as he picked up the fabric she had chosen and started to stuff it with extra fluff.

Amo finished hers before him, so she talked like before as he added the final touches. With the final stitch being tied, Amo passed her sheep to him. “For you.” 

Rudo accepted it and glanced at his wolf, “Then this is for you, too.” He wasn't looking at her when he passed it over.

She picked it from him with glee and hugged it, “Amo will cherish it forever!” Then she picked up the remote and pressed down a few buttons, “You ready?” She asked, looking over at him.

He nodded, bringing his sheep in his lap and patting it a few times. She giggled, darting back at the screen and clicked the animated play button.

Through the first few minutes of the movie, Amo couldn't help but slide her eyes over the teen next to her. The boy who was shaking in agony a few hours ago now sits seemingly well and fit. It was the first time she saw him so vulnerable and small yet…

Her eyes trailed to his fingers, the one not holding onto the sheep, curling loosely around the hem of her nightshirt, as if even focusing so hard on the movie, he needs to make sure she’s real, that she havent disappeared like all the things back up there, where he used to call home. 

She, herself, can't help but feel the same way. A crash filled the room from the TV's speakers, causing Rudo to tilt ever so slightly forward, so intensely latched onto the movie. 

Amo feels that lonely feeling creep over her again, her eyes flashed to the TV and back onto him. Hugging her wolf harder, she pressed her side against his and felt him freeze before the weight of his world was exhaled beneath his breath, like even his sorrow trusts her enough to loosen. 

Right now, he looks so unguarded, boyish and normal. Amo moved her attention to the screen; she hadn't missed much, and she was glad. 

Absentmindedly, she grabbed his hand to trace the edge of the metal hoop of his glove, the one right above the watchman series logo, a sole reminder of how they're fragile, warm, inhuman.

It makes one wonder how two teens whose lives are such chaos can still have a moment of peace. The sense of ache of loving someone who only knows how to rest in each other’s arms.

Amo’s breath catches with every exhale like she’s afraid this peace is temporary. The plot of the movie helps and hinders that thought all at once; revenge after death for a loved one.

She widens her eyes at the heartwarming dialogue of the film, moving to clutch at Rudo’s arm, still with a gentle grip, and the unbearable ache of this love being so genuine and not fake and driven by Stockholm. 

“You won’t leave, right?” Amo whispered gently. “Amo doesn't want to be lonely again.”

He rolled his head to look at Amo, then shook it. “I won’t, I promise.”

“Good, Amo’s happy here.”

“Me too.”

Sometimes, love is as simple as fixing plushies and watching a movie together, and sometimes it's as difficult as making a promise and holding each other when they're down. But Amo will gladly do both to dream instead of living in nightmares...and for his sake, too.