@Fraust
"Why not? I'm not hurting anybody, so the guards don't care." Scipio cocked his head slightly to the side, a drop of blood running down his arm.
"Why not? I'm not hurting anybody, so the guards don't care." Scipio cocked his head slightly to the side, a drop of blood running down his arm.
"You're…you're hurting yourself…though. I - I care," He responded silently, looking down. He knew Scipio wasn't one to argue with, but here he was.
"Why?" Scipio asked with an almost childlike confusion. No one had ever really cared about him before. He figured he was just some psychopath murderer whose life meant nothing to anyone.
"I…" Bridge was at a sort of loss for words - from confusion, mostly, but some fear, too. "I…I don't really - really know. I think…you protected me…from them. At first, I thought you might - kill me, but you…didn't." He explained shakily, looking up at Scipio from under his eyelashes.
(I think I have to go to sleep now)
(Oof)
"But the guards told you that I was dangerous, didn't they? No matter what I do, deep down, you'll still be afraid of me. Why would you care for the wellbeing of someone who you'll always fear?"
(jk i'll wait)
"I don't…I don't think it really - really matters," Bridge said, stumbling over his words more than usual. "If…my mother said that if…someone needs help, you - you give it to them. I…I never thought - any different."
"Am I supposed to help you then? You seem to need more help than I do."
(Scipio actually just doesn't know how to deal with people he's not killing)
((why is that lowkey me))
Bridge shook his head quickly. "You need it…you're - cutting yourself." He explained shakily.
Scipio looked down at his arms again. "Is that bad?"
He nodded slowly. "Yes…you…you shouldn't. Please."
"Alright. How do I keep my sense of reality, then?" Scipio wiped the blood from his arm with his thumb.
"You…well, I'm here - now, so…" He thought for a moment. "We…we can help each other."
(gotta sleep now bye)
(Oof bye)
"I suppose." Scipio still didn't seem to understand why self harm was bad, but decided he'd avoid it since Bridge was bothered.
Bridge dropped his hand from Scipio's arm carefully, pressing his lips together in new silence and bringing his legs up to his chest again.
"How do you help people? I'm only good at killing them."
Bridge looked up, surprised. He wasn’t exactly sure how to answer that question. “You…I don’t know how to explain it. You just - help them when they need it.”
"Strange… seems inconvenient." Scipio lay his head back against the wall, trying to ignore the lingering pain.
He tilted his head. "Well…you did." He was, of course, referring to when Scipio had fought off the guards on multiple occasions to protect Bridge.
"I did?" Scipio glanced over at Bridge, confused. "When?"
"When you…you fought the guards off. I told you…that I could've gone, but you fought - fought them off anyway." He answered, lowering his head.
"That's considered helping? I thought I was just beating them up because there's no reason for them to take you."
He nodded silently, pressing his lips together. How was he not completely terrified of this boy? He was only two years older than him, sure, but he had committed mass murder. But at the same time, he had helped Bridge and wasn't beating him up, either.
"I don't get people sometimes…" Scipio shook his head, looking at the floor. He couldn't understand anything that Bridge might be feeling, since he didn't really experience sympathy or empathy. He could pretend, of course, but that was tiring and ultimately not worth it.
Bridge released his knees slowly, letting them swing from the metal bench. He now had absolutely no idea what to talk about.
"You don't seem to fully understand the nature of a psychopath. Do you have any questions you're inclined to ask?"
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