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olliesneweyes · 3 days

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Hugs full of static (2.6k)

(in which Luca and Alva reconcile. In a way.)

Alva Lorenz’s death had, ultimately, been caused by a misunderstanding.

The issue was with the manuscripts Alva kept in his room. Those manuscripts had belonged to his former colleague, Herman Balsa.

They had both worked on a perpetual motion machine for quite some time before arguments arose on whether they should continue.

The arguments lasted until Herman's death. A freak accident, an explosion, had killed him. So Alva locked up the machine for years, wanting to stop any other lives being taken by its grasp.

The one time he decided to reveal it again, he found himself with an apprentice. Luca Balsa.

The tabloids that liked to deface his former friend said Luca was a runaway. So Alva took him in.

And even though Alva knew Luca was his colleague's son, for all those years he never once thought to tell Luca about Herman's manuscripts.

Not even when Luca started acting strange.

Alva had foolishly assumed the worst at Luca's shiftiness. Watching him work on the invention alone, being cold and distant to his mentor, the seeds of doubt and hatred were planted in Alva's mind.

Just like how they must have been planted in Luca's.

Oh, how stupid they both were.

There was an argument, the day of Alva's death. Both were convinced the other was stealing, and neither told the other why. It had ended when Luca had stormed out of the room to try and calm down away from him.

Alva had found him again, in the middle of the night. He was in the workshop with their machine, alone, mumbling to himself.

It really did look like he was stealing, in that moment before Alva made his presence known.

If only Alva hadn't startled him. If only he hadn't moved so fast without paying attention. If only he'd realised what Luca had been doing.

But before he could understand, Luca had wheeled around, electrical equipment in hand…

And killed him.

It was, surprisingly to Alva, not a permanent death he found himself in. Some strange twisted fate had led a deity to his doorstep, and soon he was mostly alive again, though not in the same way he was before.

But still he thought time and time again about the incident that had caused him to leave life for what felt like only a fleeting moment but was likely much longer.

He'd always wondered how Luca was doing since the accident, assuming he was alive at all. He'd hoped he was doing well, but could never be sure.

That was until the day he got his answer, when the letter inviting him to a strange manor arrived, promising that it would be beneficial to his research. Luca was mentioned by name. It appeared he'd found his apprentice.

-----

While Alva had been missing from this life, Luca Balsa had been in prison. He'd been arrested the morning after the accident that killed his mentor.

Or maybe that attack had been intentional. He wasn't certain anymore.

Life in prison was much harsher than he'd ever heard about before being arrested. Monotonous tasks that went round and round and round again, deafening silence broken only by the rattling of chains and the angry screaming of guards, and the many tools those guards had to torment him all grated at his brain.

He wasn't sure when he started forgetting things. Some things were easy to realise he'd forgotten, like mealtimes and when to sleep.

But other things were chipped away, little by little, soldiered on in blissful ignorance before catching one problem and realising how many more he had.

Some days he couldn't remember his own name. Or where he was. Or what he was doing. And even as that scared him, what scared him more was the bits he could never remember again.

There was an invention. He loved it. He knew he'd never come to love anything else. But he couldn't remember how it worked. Or what it was, exactly. Or… what it did at all.

Just like the now useless machine, the cogs in his brain spin with no purpose, with no end goal. But he tries to remember what happened, needs to remember what happened, before it slips away like sand.

But still, he thinks he can piece together what happened when he killed his own mentor.

If every guard he asks tells him he murdered Alva in cold blood, then that must simply be what he did. There's no other explanation.

Through a mind addled with guilt, a simple misunderstanding that led to a fatal set of dominoes could become much more sinister.

Alva's death must have been a crime of passion. He must have slammed the equipment into Alva for some kind of twisted revenge. After all, what idiot would just throw around high voltages like that? Even if he was so very tired that night.

Maybe those manuscripts weren't his father's at all. The name “Herman Zeeman” was used in every one of them, after all. Was the argument over nothing? Even though he had seen that name on the manuscripts inside his childhood home so many times.

Surely they must have hated each other when Alva was alive. Such a lovely man didn't deserve an apprentice as stupid and impulsive as he is. No wonder Alva’s life ended in a huge fight. He must have always been like this, there's no other explanation. Even though every tabloid around called them a genius duo.

The guilt tore into him. It's all his fault. It's always been his fault, he's sure of it.

But despite his crimes, he was acquitted one day. Some mysterious benefactor had smiled upon him, and had given him a deal.

An envelope invited him to a manor, saying that it'd give him the opportunity to continue work on the machine he and Alva were once famous for. With any funds given away to Alva's grieving wife years ago, and a broken brain that couldn't get anyone else to help him, he took it.

----

Alva meets lots of people at Oletus Manor. As it turns out, all of the people inside are trapped here for the foreseeable future and far beyond. That letter was a trap. What a joy.

But Alva doesn't particularly care right now. What he cares about much more is Luca.

The manor is divided into sections, which contain “the survivors” and “the hunters”. Thankfully, you are allowed to mingle.

It took less time than Alva anticipated it would to find Luca.

Alva didn't recognise him at first. The man was scrawny and pale and bruised, with dark shadows under at least one of his eyes. The space around the other was injured so badly it was hard to tell.

There was a network of scars across his face, too, that matched Alva's own burns. The current that took his life hadn't spared Luca, then.

Alva is suddenly aware of how much he himself has changed, as Luca clearly doesn't recognise him anymore. He's babbling on with that same grin that he's always had. Alva chuckles. Some things never change, after everything.

It's only then that Luca asks his name. Even when he hears Alva's voice, he doesn't seem to remember it at all. Alva thinks a little. He badly wants to reconcile, to reunite with Luca again, but he hesitates.

It might be best to wait a while and see what Luca's reaction might be to Alva's return, rather than suddenly giving him the knowledge that the man he once killed was now very much alive in front of him.

So Alva calls himself “The Hermit”. He wasn't the only one here to simply go by a title, so he decides it's fine. Luca seems to decide it's fine too. And so, for now, they are friends.

---

Alva was allowed into Luca's room after a while. It looks surprisingly close to how it did before everything happened.

Messy bed, desk full of half-made gadgets, formulas and sketches drawn madly on notebooks scattered around, it's the perfect home for an inventor, even if it's very disorganised. Curious, Alva looks closer at some notes. They worry him a little.

Luca's handwriting has always been nearly unreadable, but what Alva can make out doesn't make much sense. Words are written over each other, and scribbled drawings seem to be jotted down hastily, nearly incomprehensibly. This looks… weird. Especially compared to what he remembers.

Luca's nervous laughter informs Alva that disapproval must have come through on his face.

“Ah, don't worry about those- I just need to get things down before I forget, is all. I-i have other notes somewhere, I swear!!-”

Alva is silent for a moment. But he has an idea.

“Do you need some guidance on all of this? But it has a price.”

“What kind of price?” Luca asks. Alva can see a protective glint in his eye. Alva knows exactly what that means. Alva's about to say that he would never dream of stealing anything, before coming back to his senses and realising that Luca likely wouldn't trust that.

“Nothing much at all, I would just like you to answer my questions. I like listening to you talk, and I'm… curious about your past.” Alva tells himself this is for information. To find out what Luca thinks happened before his death. To find out what happened after. But none of it is necessarily a lie.

He does truly just want to hear Luca chatter about anything he wants to. To pretend that accident never happened, and that everything is okay. To have Luca back.

But he can never have that. He knows.

So he asks questions.

---

Luca doesn't know why it's so easy to talk to The Hermit. As most hunters are, they're much more intimidating than the average person.

But there's something about them that slots into some groove in his brain and makes him babble senselessly to them like he's known them for years.

Is it the way their voice feels? The way they speak? The way they sit and listen so patiently? The way they look at him? The way they phrase things? The way they tell him that he's okay to not tell them things if he doesn't want to, even though he always does it anyway?

Maybe it's all of those and more. They feel like a father, somehow. Luca had always hated his father, but the feeling is nice. It's soothing to talk to this stranger.

It's still weird to him, though. because the things they ask are personal and scary to think about. And yet he can't help but talk on autopilot.

So over weeks of gentle prodding, Luca slowly tells them everything.

He's asked about prison. How he never knew what time it was, how it was always too quiet or loud, how they'd wake him up with electric shocks, how he did the same thing from morning to night to morning, how they got mad at him for every little thing and they hit him and yelled and jeered and—

Luca's tirade comes to a screeching halt when he glances up to see the Hermit looking towards him with a determined, stormy-eyed anger. Seemingly in shock, they apologise profusely, saying that they were merely lost in thought.

They tell Luca that he shouldn't have ever been treated like that. It's a nice thought, really, but he's a murderer. Murderers go to prison.

Another day, he's asked about what his life before was like. His memory is spotty, but he has a go at it.

He brings up Alva the most out of everything he says. Alva, the shining genius. Alva, the kind mentor despite almost certainly disliking him. Alva, who was his father when his real father wasn't there for him.

Alva… who was there until everything fell apart. Luca doesn't elaborate that day.

The Hermit is intrigued. Apparently they'd never heard of Alva being that kind. Or fatherly. Luca says that The Hermit reminds him of Alva too. But less scary.

“Less scary? How come?”

“Well, it's… I don't need to be popular like you, but I needed to be popular like him. You know?”

“I understand. That must have been hard for you.”

It was, but Luca doesn't want to admit it. It was his own fault for being stupid.

A few days after, The Hermit asks about the machine. Not for blueprints, or anything like that. They're not looking to steal. They just want to know what it is he's working on.

Luca doesn't want to say that he doesn't know what he's doing. Because he does! He just needs time.

That's what he desperately wants to believe. That his memories aren't slipping away like sand every time he tries to think of it. That he knows what the machine is. That he knows what to do in any way. That he knows anything at all.

He doesn't know at what point he started crying, but The Hermit has their arms around him. The hug is loose, but comforting nonetheless. He finds himself slipping up when apologising. He calls them Alva.

Do they really remind him of Alva that much? Luca only had a quiet feeling before, but now…

It's nice, at least. He can pretend.

---

The Hermit's biggest question comes with finality. If Luca can tell him exactly what happened on the night of Alva's death, they won't ask any more questions.

They understand it's scary, and they'll help him work through it. But they need to know. Luca's silent for a moment.

Luca, despite knowing that this can't be a good idea, talks anyway.

Start slow. Repeat what you've already said. Stall for time to get your brain in gear. Everything was okay. Then the problem happened.

The manuscripts. You thought they were your father's. They probably weren't. [They definitely were.]

The argument. You were too harsh. Hothead. You went to the invention to calm down. [You did other things before that. Did you forget?]

The incident. You were angry. You hit him. He's dead. You killed him. [You were scared. Not angry. You didn't mean to hit me with it.]

It was an accident. I swear it was an accident. [That's-] n-no. NO. [What-?] It wasn't an accident at all, was it? [I- Luca?] It couldn't have been. I'm sorry. [Luca??] God, I'm so sorry— [Can you hear me? Luca??]

He cries like the stupid man he is.

He doesn't realise that he's crumpled to the floor until arms are around him. Then he's gasping for air, trying to stay above water in a murky ocean of memories.

He apologises. Again. And again. For Alva. To Alva. He hears the other man's voice echo through his head.

“I'm here. It's me. It's okay. It's okay. We're okay.”

…Oh. That's why their voice was familiar.

And all at once, he understands.

He bawls harder.

Fighting to stay above the tide is a losing battle. And so he slips under, and his brain is whisked away to black.

---

Alva doesn't let go of Luca after he passes out. He promises to himself that he'll get Luca a gift when he wakes up. After all, that's the least Luca deserves after everything he had to say.

Saying that Alva feels guilty is an understatement. He feels sick. Luca's retelling wasn't right at all, and it bugs him. Luca can't be remembering what happened correctly.

But explaining comes later. Right now, Alva is picking Luca up to bury him under the mismatched blankets of the bed. He deserves a rest after tonight.

Alva can only hope that Luca won't have to dream about it.

#Luca Balsa #identity v #alva lorenz #idv hermit #idv prisoner #idv #Ollie writes #(AN happy 10th day anniversary to my first idv fic you're being rewritten)#Ollie's art

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