#and of course quick for me became 10 pages because i'm not a concise writer

[wavemaker9]

These pics probably weren’t about kyle when they were drawn but listen

Title: Memories Characters: Australia, Amelia Jones

“That looks like it hurts.”

Kyle glances at her from where he’d been staring on the far wall, before cracking a smile on instinct. It’s not that it’s particularly funny; if anything, it’s nice she’s showing a little concern. Reassuring rather, that she is still concerned about him. The part that seems amusing to him is that she’s worrying about his injuries when she still looks upset in a way herself. To him, she’s the one who looks hurt; his black eye is probably nothing compared to that. Still, he disguises the grin and chuckle, making it appear dismissive as he lifts a hand to wave off the concern. “Nah, I’m fine. Just- y’know, you ain’t the first mate’a mine tracking me down over this shit, and some of ‘em got a mean right hook.” He spares another breath of a laugh to mention it’s not the worst reaction he’s seen. His expression gets a little distant as he mentions one girl he got close to when he was much younger who had completely cut ties with him after seeing him die and come back. “Didn’t see her again until she was an old woman, wrinkles and snow white hair and everything.” He gestures to his eye as his focus eases back and says he’d take a mark like this over that any day.

Amelia gives a quiet little laugh of her own at the makeshift joke, but her eyes have shifted back off of Kyle and to the coffee table. He watches her a little while longer as she absent mindedly twists the hem of her shirt in her hands. She might just be distracted… or uncomfortable being around him. A million options are flying through his head right now on why his friend might hate him and never want to see it again, but she was the one to choose being here, so he can’t guarantee anything, especially with her barely even looking at him let alone talking to him. He finally speaks up again to draw her attention back.

“Hey, I’m glad you reached out,” he says, making eye contact just so that she can feel the firmness of his words. “I am. Been a bit busy with- all’a this. Ain’t had the time to track down every mate and talk it over with them one-on-one yet, but I’m glad to be able to talk with you.” His body seems a little jerky as his hands move with his words. His eyes flicker away and down, guilty for a second, though he forces them back onto her and adds, “I wanted- I wanted to tell you. I did. Always wanna tell everyone, it’s-. Hard. Y’know, keeping a secret like this.”

“I’d imagine,” Amelia agrees. It’s a little distant in its tone, but it’s something. After another moment, she adds, “I’m… not really mad about that, if that’s what you’re worried about.” It’s obvious in the little smile that crosses his lips, in the way his eyes light up a bit and his shoulders relax just a touch, that it absolutely was a major concern in his mind. He seems relieved in the immediate moment after she says those words, but it’s the fact that her own expression and body language doesn’t seem to ease any that causes his own to settle back into something that’s a partial mix of anxiety and guilt.

“But you’re still… you still seem upset?” Kyle says it in the tone of a question, a decision he makes last minute and is thankful for when she shakes her head no slightly. “Or you’re not upset? Mel, I- I get this is a lot to take in. Being a Nation hardly makes sense to me half the time, but I’m-. If you could just-.” He notices his voice is easing into a touch too aggressive in his asking, that his nervousness over the whole situation is adding an edge onto his words that he doesn’t want, and he tries to catch himself. He’s walking a tightrope here, will be with all his human friends, and he’s got to be careful if he wants to hold on to them. “I’m sorry. I got so much going through my head on this, new rules and regulations I got put on me, ‘bout a hundred meetings I still gotta remember to go to just in the next week. There’s- there’s a lot happening cause of the world finding out about this and if you could please make it easier on me and just be as clear as you can. I- you seem upset and if it’s at me, I get that, but if it’s not, I don’t, so can you-?”

Amelia finally cuts him off, shifting slightly in her seat on the other couch to face him a little more easily. “That’s it, though. You were right before, it’s…,” she trails off, before letting out a soft laugh, sounding more than a touch hollow. “It’s a lot to take in, you know? That one of my friends is over two hundred years old and has been for the whole time I’ve known him is a lot to take in.”

Kyle sighs and chuckles, mixed in the same sharp breath. “Yeah,” he agrees, nodding slowly, more as a subconscious action than one made with active intent. Distantly, in a way where he can recognize but never truly get what she means, he does understand. Hell, he’s seen it enough, especially now with the cat let out of the bag, where he feels like he can understand it completely, even if that’s not actually the case. He spares a few moments to stare as well, half matching the stunned, uncertain sort of look on her face. He can feel the silence starting to build up, though, so he finally offers to her, “I’m sorry?”

“For what?” Amelia asks almost immediately, sparing only a second to process that he would even ask. She tilts her head a touch even if she knows him and she knows he doesn’t know. Sure enough he falters, unable to supply a good answer, and she lifts her hands in a gesture towards him as if to bring extra attention to his just saying what he thinks will help. “That’d be like me apologizing for being an adult to a baby; it’s-.”

“I mean- more like a kid apologizing to a baby or something. I ain’t- believe me, you can ask all of my family, I ain’t an adult adult. Even by like, our standards, I’m still pretty young. Some of us’ve been around for like thousands of years or whatever. Yao-,” he says, stops, and corrects to, “China,” so she’ll more easily know who he’s talking about, “-he’s been around for like. Ever, I think?” He gives a quick laugh and shrug, not having been lying about his own lack of a grasp on the finer details of Nationhood. None of them seem to be a hundred percent sure on the matter. “Others, too. Could lose count trying to keep track of how many Nations whose exact birth dates are fuzzy beyond ‘a while ago’.” His voice is picking up speed just a bit, not even noticing how he’s babbling on a bit in a nervous tone at an increasing pace. “Even like me, I only remember so much and I don’t know if that’s ‘cause I’m genuinely that young, or I was just too young before to hold onto those older memories, or maybe it was an entirely different bloke in charge before Art- England -and his rellies showed up. It’s all weird, yeah, deffo. But if you’re worried about me suddenly being the mature one here- I swear, things don’t gotta change like that if you don’t want ‘em to!”

“That’s not what- no, don’t worry about it,” Amelia answers, shaking her head a bit to dismiss his rambling. She’s a little surprised by just how uneasy he seems to be while talking about this. Her being anxious and uncertain makes sense to her as the new one learning about all this, but she would have expected him to be more easy about a fact he’d known for his entire, vey long life. She guesses, though, that if some reactions extend all the way up the scale to throwing fists or never speaking to him again, it’s not completely unexpected. “I’m not criticizing how you age as a Nation or whatever. I’m fine with it. It’s… yeah, weird is the right word,” she admits with a sharp, amused breath. “But I can… I can roll with i, I guesst. Nations exist as people or whatever, and they’re really really old. Sure, I’ve grasped the basics of that at least.” Again, it looks like a little weight has been lifted when she confirms she’s not unnerved by that. “I guess what I had meant more- like, an adult apologizing to a baby isn’t what I wanted to say.” She tilts her head, considering her words, and then offers instead, “More like an adult apologizing to a dog or a fish or something. People don’t apologize to their pet that they’re going to outlive it.”

Kyle frowns at the correction, though, seeming to disagree with it even more. “If that’s what you’re upset about, you ain’t just some dog or fish to me.” When he can tell she doesn’t appear to take his words to heart, he assures her again, even more firmly, “You ain’t, I promise. Or at least if you were a fish, you’d be a shark, but a shark for a pet is cool.” His smile widens a little more at the new attempt at a joke, hoping to make her match the expression. “Can’t complain about being a shark, right?”

She spares a little laugh at that, but he can tell it hasn’t eased whatever troubles are on her mind. “Mel, c’mon, please tell me what’s wrong. Most mates I know that are upset are just mad I lied to them or that I’m some freak who doesn’t age and can’t die or whatever. I don’t-.” He suddenly stops, considers for a half second, before muttering for her to hold on. She starts to ask what’s wrong but he waves off the question as he stands up, crossing around the coffee table to sit down next to her on the other couch. He grabs for her hands, tugging her around so that she’s facing him again and returning the eye contact he’s trying to make with her. “I wanna make you feel better about this. I like it when you’re happy. You’re my mate and I don’t- like I said, I get it. Knowing Nations exist is weird and scary and fucked up, let alone finding out you had one for a friend. But I wanna ease your mind on this however I can, it’s so important to me.”

He squeezes his grip, just strong and tight enough to reassure her he’s there however she needs him to be to settle this. “Tell me everything that’s on your mind so I can help you feel better about this. I don’t wanna lose you as a friend, not over this. Not now that I don’t need to.” He sighs soflty before continuing, explaining, “I’ve had to abandon so many friends to keep myself a secret over the years- which is kinda bullshit now, but that’s another story.” The abrupt interruption sparks a quiet laugh from her, and it’s a relief to even get that in response. “But like, that’s one of the few silver linings ‘bout all this is that now i don’t have to do that anymore. So help me understand how to keep you as my mate now that I can actually do that, please?” He pulls his lips into a small, hopeful smile, holding his gaze on her as she considers his request for a few moments before shrugging.

“It’s not really anything you can do-.”

“Mel-.”

“No, I’m serious.” She pulls her hands away. It’s not intended to feel like a withdrawal, more intending to just retrieve them for her own use again as she speaks. Still, she can tell by the way his face falls further that it upsets him, and she tries to quickly reassure him. “I’m not mad at anything you’ve done or at what you are or anything. Not like that, in a way where you can fix it. I’m just….” Her mouth hangs open slightly, struggling for the right word for what she’s feeling, for the exact emotion she wants to get across. Finally, she settles on, “I’m just mortal.”

Kyle stares for a second, before giving a bemused half-laugh. He regrets it almost immediately, but he can’t help it. It doesn’t exactly make sense to him, and he guesses there’s something amusing in how absolutely perplexing such a statement out of the blue is. “Yeah,” he finally agrees bluntly. “I’m….” Another sharp chuckle built mainly of confusion with just a dash of surprise. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way? Did- did you not realize-?”

“Of course I knew,” Amelia shoots back, aiming a look his way that at least eases a little nerves in him due to the friendly familiarity of such an expression from her. It eases back to unease in another moment, though. “I just… that really comes into perspective when you have a friend that isn’t, y’know?”

Kyle’s quiet for a moment, brows dropping as he tries to process the answer. “So are you… jealous? Believe me, Mel, you don’t wanna be a Nation. It- I could say it absolutely sucks and still be sugar coating it. Being responsible for a country of people you can’t actually help half the time sucks, being physically tied to the land and every shitty thing that happens to it sucks, watching people you care about die like all the time is a fucking hell of a punishment for a crime of just existing as a section of land. Mel, you are lucky!” He shakes his head, irritation bubbling up in his chest as he speaks. “Do you know how much I’d love to be human? To not feel guilty every time I take a day off for once? To go into a career I actually give a shit about? To know I won’t outlive the majority of friends I ever make in my entire life? Mel, I’m jealous of you.”

He gives a sharp, aggressive sort laugh, shaking his head at the frustration building at every ridiculous trial and punishment that he feels is a standard part of being a Nation. He’s not mad at Amelia for suggesting it might be nice. It’s not the first time, after all, that he’s heard a human suggest that his sort of life might be favorable until he had to clarify what exactly that would mean. However, having to make the case again and remind himself all over again why he hates the very thing he is so much is a little more than upsetting.

Luckily, Amelia dismisses this as a misunderstanding almost immediately. “No, no, I don’t want to be a Nation,” she insists, lifting her hands in a half defensive manner to ease his mood. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just… you are going to outlive me. Easily. You’re going to live who knows how many more lifetimes after I’ve burned through my one and… and we’re friends.” She says the last words abruptly, tone shifting to a pained sort of amusement at the idea.  “We’re friends and in a couple hundred years you probably won’t even remember my name. You and the others I’ve met that are Nations too are just going to… move on after I’m dead and the whole world will in the end, really, and it’s… weird, I guess? To really come to terms with how little your life will mean to someone in the long run.” She gives another quick, upset laugh, and adds, “In the very long run.”

The anger Kyle’d felt dissipates in seconds as he listens to her, already starting to shake his head as he tries to process the very idea she’s suggesting. “Are you kidding?” he finally asks, apparently failing that attempt, unable to comprehend her ever believing this to be an issue.

Her shoulders sink and she glances away, looking a little guilty in addition to the expression of defeat she’d gained while explaining her concerns. She sighs, nodding slowly as she admits, “I mean, I’m sure it’s not as sucky as being a Nation, but-.”

“No, no, no,” Kyle suddenly corrects, catching on to her interpretation of his response. “I don’t- that wasn’t an ‘Are you kidding?’ like my problems are so much worse or anything. I didn’t mean that at all! I’d never!” He reaches forward again, this time for her upper arms, hands resting on shoulders to squeeze them comfortingly. “I just- Mel, you’re like one of my best friends. How can you think for a second that you don’t mean the world to me?”

Amelia raises an eyebrow at him, a little surprised that he can’t see what she means. “Because you’re an adult talking to a fish, remember? People replace pets all the time, Kyle.” She turns away slightly, starting to clarify as her voice betrays her worries. “They’re sad for a little bit and then they get a new hamster or bird or whatever and they move on and you ask them fifty years down the line what the name of their second or third goldfish was and they’re lucky if they even remember how to tell them apart.” She stops, taking a breath to ease how her own voice is growing audibly more upset. She holds it for a second, crossing her arms over her chest to fight the fear vibrating under her skin.

“Not me,” Kyle insists sharply, voice suddenly sounding very firm and almost defensive. “Ask-,” he stops, realization hitting him, and then corrects to, “you ain’t met him yet.” He glances around, then, already not surprised to see his pet nowhere in sight, especially with a guest there. Doug always disappears when Kyle needs him. “I got a koala who’s practically my best mate,” he explains, turning his attention back to her, “been there since I was young. If I lost him, I’d be devastated. Can’t just replace that.”

If she hadn’t already learned of a much greater secret, she might stop the conversation to question on how in the world he just has a koala as a pet, apparently even living in his house it seems. Instead, that’s the least weird thing she’s heard this week, so she stays on subject. She lets go of the breath to point out that, if he’s had the koala since he was young, that means a hell of a lot more than a friend he’s had for a few years. “In two hundred years, this will be like your memories from when you were two. I’ll remember you my whole life, but… I may as well be dust.” She gulps, body sinking a bit further on the couch. After another moment she drops her head as well, muttering half into her arms that they might miss someone like her for a little bit, sure, but he and the rest of his family who have met her will forget her soon enough. In the back of her mind, she knows that she’s not worth remembering, not to someone who, it turns out, already has quite a lot to hold onto in the first place. “I just wish my life held the same value.”

“Bullshit.”

Kyle still speaks with an aggressive firmness, but he can barely start onto the next word before Amelia’s countering him on the idea. "It's true, though," she insists. Her eyes fall closed in another sigh, shoulders lifting slightly in a vague sort of shrug before settling back down. "You'll forget. It happens in your early years, you've just got more of those than the rest of us." She mutters that’s it’s really just a matter of time more than anything else, missing how that’s taken as more of a challenge to the southern island rather than anything else.

“No, fuck that. That’s bullshit,” he reiterates, and does not let her start again until he’s made his own point. “I could live to be as old as Yao or any one else on this planet and I ain’t gonna forget you. I ain’t gonna let myself; you’re too important.”

“Now that’s bullshit,” Amelia mutters, before her frown furthers and she points out, “And that’s not something you really get to decide, Kyle,” She knows he’s stubborn, but even this is a little too headstrong for him to be challenging how memory works. She admittedly might not know that much about how the minds of Nations work, but she can’t imagine them remembering every single thing and not snapping with the weight of that. Humans with photographic memories often insist how much of a struggle it can be; she couldn’t imagine someone having to hold on to even twice that many memories. “Every memory fades sooner or later no matter how hard you hold onto it. You can’t remember every single human you ever meet.”

“Well, no, but neither can you,” Kyle points out simply, lips pulled to the side in an expression that easily conveys how unimpressed he is with her argument. “I can’t even remember every single Nation I’ve met half the time, but it’d be a fucking nightmare to remember everyone ever. ‘Sides, this ain’t about every single human I ever met. Every single human I ever met ain’t sitting in my house right now, looking this close to breaking down.” He leans in a bit, voice growing more firm to emphasize his words. “I remember my mates, plain and simple. Every mate I’ve ever had that meant anything to me- and that’s including you -is always right here,” he lifts a hand up, finger extending to point to his temple, before it falls to tap over his heart instead, “and right here. And-.” He falters, looks away as if considering something, and then abruptly moves to his feet.

“Can I show you something?” he asks out of the blue, turning and offering a hand back to her to help her stand. After a second, though, he shakes his head and just reaches for her arm anyway. “Fuck it, I’m showing you something. C’mon.”

She’s hardly given enough time to make sure her feet are both even on the floor before she’s being pulled up onto them. She asks him again his intent, this time trying to narrow down at least where he’s heading off to in such a rush. Technically, she gets an answer of ‘Bedroom’, but it’s no more helpful than the lack of details he’d given before. “What- why? Kyle, can you-?” She tries to tug on her hand a bit to get him to slow down and explain, but he ignores it pretty easily.

“It’ll take more time to stop and explain than to just show you. Just trust me, alright?” He’s met with the counterpoint of this whole conversation coming up because he’s technically been lying to her since when they met, and he grumbles but ultimately dismisses the statement as not the point. Instead, he finally lets go once through the doors to his bedroom, but with a gesture and quick word for her to stay there before he heads directly for the closet.

One of the doors is slid open, rather shoved open with a little effort, putting up a bit of a fight with the amount of items piled behind it. Kyle drops to his knees once it’s out of the way, though, entering into a new struggle before dragging a large shoebox from under a pile of clothes, shoes, and other items shoved into the space to get them off of the bedroom’s main floor. In contrast, the floor itself looks surprisingly bare considering how she’s seen it in the past when visiting. A part of her bets it was ‘cleaned’ in response to the sudden expectation of old friends trying to find him again, and she bites back a small instinct to chuckle at how of course it would take that to get him to clean up his room some.

“Here,” he says, turning back to Mel. Instead of standing, he makes a quick gesture for her to sit down on the floor. She still looks perplexed at his urgency, especially over a simple shoebox, but she’s trusting him like he asked, and so he’s joined on the floor within the next moment or so. Only once she’s settled does he remove the cover, reaching in to pull out a collection of photos.

At first it’s not too remarkable. She’s seen how much he loves taking pictures, a habit that admittedly feels a little more surprising given his actual age, though that might be reflected in how he seems to have physical copies of a lot of them rather than leaving them all in the hands of an SD card or the cloud. As she peers in a little more, she even catches sight of one or two shots of him with her and some of her family when he’d visited the last summer; a group picture by the water at the beach they’d gone to and another from later on as they’d roasted marshmallows around a fire, her brother insisting on playing some music for the group with Kyle jokingly calling from across the flames for him to play Wonderwall. She can’t help the smile at the memories, and she can see his lips curl into a little grin himself as he sees the picture before returning to the task at hand.

He reaches in, pulling out the pictures on top and setting them to the side, sparing a moment to spread them out to make them all easier to look at before digging back into the box. She catches some others, a number of ones of Kyle with his boyfriend and a good deal of him with his younger sibling. There’s one she starts to reach for, but then hesitates. She glances over at him, gets out a, “Can I-?” and he’s already telling her to please look over them, they’re all really good, he made sure of it.

The first one she picks up has her trying to smother a wave of snickers. This one looks to have been taken by Blake, a change from the norm for the others of Kyle as the photographer. It’s a selfie, with the hand not taking the picture instead showing a pair of scissors and a sign that announces an April Fool’s prank. In the background of the shot shows Kyle asleep in the background, hair cut short in a choppy style. Another pile of pictures is set down on the other side of the box, and she sets the one she was holding down to look at another, this one getting her eyes to widen a bit. “You knew Steve Irwin?” she asks, and Kyle looks just a little proud when he nods.

“Oh yeah, ‘course! Y’really think I wouldn’t?” He stops in his emptying of the box to lean over, brightening further at the photo. “Yeah, still keep in touch with his family when I can. Real nice folks. ‘Mazing how fast his kids’ve grown, but that’s always surprising for me.” He looks back up at her with a big smile and a laugh. “We age so weird, remember? It’s all depending on politics and shit. I’d been little for a long while, but I shot up when I became my own country and then I barely grew up past that even though that was like a century or so ago.” He turns his head to the side, bringing focus to it when he winks and adds, “Emotionally, too, if y’ask my rellies. Oh!”

He stops sharply, turning and starting to dig through the pile again, before pulling out a few of him with some younger kids. One shows a girl in pink with a sideways ponytail, painting the design of a koala’s face onto his own as he clearly tries not to laugh. Another shows a teen wearing a bandage on his cheek, frowning from just in the background at Kyle as the Nation takes a picture of himself posing in a very fancy purple cape. There’s another with a boy and another man, both with blond hair and lighter skin, but the same thicker eyebrows. The boy and Kyle are wearing matching grins as they try to squish the blond man into the photo while he just frowns at the camera. “I got siblings who are Micronations- like the little countries that are usually just a family or a community or some shit. Most of them’ve been kids or teens for like ever, so when your lot go from kids to full out adults in like a decade- like you all think your kids grow up fast, imagine how it can be for us!”

He hands the pictures over to her in case she wants to look at them directly, turning back to the box to grab the last handful or two and spread them out with the rest. There are far more older ones in the collection at this point now, some seemingly ready to fall apart with how aged they are. One of the older ones in particular shows a blonde, tanned woman in the middle of the desert dressed just in a simple yellow dress. When Amelia looks closer, she notices the woman’s feet appear to be fading off into nothingness, despite the picture’s age being far too early to display what really should be photoshop. When he notices her staring, he says something about seasons being lesson two, and she decides it’s probably smarter to leave it at that, moving on to other photos.

Kyle finally picks the box up and sets it aside so that he can move more of the pictures around. “That’s all of them in this box, but I got a few more still in there. Modern technology makes it way easy to go overboard with the pictures,” he admits with a semi-guilty grin.

He reaches forward, shuffling some of the pictures out of the way so he can scoot over to sit next to Amelia, reaching past her for a handful of photos. “This is why I say all that’s bullshit. I don’t have a perfect memory, I know that. Ask my boss, I forget half the meetings I gotta go to.” He leans in to nudge her shoulder slightly with another wink, lifting a hand to the side of his mouth as if whispering a secret. “The other half I just don’t wanna go to, heh.” He chuckles when she rolls her eyes at the admission, before carrying on. “But this? These people? They’re important. I’m not gonna let myself forget them. They’re the reason I am the way I am today, even more so than some of them just being my people or whatever. Everyone in that box, and the other boxes too, they’re what makes me me and I never wanna forget them.

“Memories are shit; you ain’t wrong,” he agrees, giving a slight shrug in acceptance, “but I’ll make myself remember them if I gotta. I keep all of these so I can always look back. So I can always remember the good times I’ve had with so many people over the years, so that in another two hundred years I can remind myself and keep their memories alive, even if they won’t be themselves.”

He starts flipping through the photos in the stack he’s holding, sorting through them quickly until coming to each he wants to touch on. “I can go, ‘oh here’s this one girl I dated for a year. Still was mates with her for a few years after that. Saw her at the store once a year or so after we stopped talking and almost got hit by a car trying to avoid being seen by her in the parking lot.’” He flashes a grin at Amelia and winks with his good eye as he adds, “‘Mean right hook on that one; she punched me right in the face for lying to her when she found out what I was.’”

He flips again, before stopping on a girl with brownish blonde hair, seemingly dressed in professional attire. “‘Here’s one I met through work. She thought I was a lazy intern for like the first half year she started working there. Started bringing an extra iced coffee every friday when she found out I liked them.’” A few more in and he continues, “‘Here’s this old doctor I had; government picked so he could know about what I was and treat me better. Died a while ago, but I still see his family much as I can. Don’t trust many doctors, but he was a good one.’”

He gets into the first word of, “‘Here’s-,’” after flipping through a few more, but stops at the faded, worn picture of a young woman smiling gently at the camera. The edges are wearing down,  the picture itself looking to be dated from many, many years ago. He’s quiet for a moment, just staring, but when he can see Mel shift slightly to look at him, he catches himself. “‘She- she had the reddest hair you’d ever seen, except the last time I saw her when it was white as snow. I met her grandson at her funeral; was an absolute sweetheart, just as kind as she’d been.’” He lingers on the picture, a new softness in his eyes, before finally moving on. It’s admittedly easy to shift back to the energetic grin when the next one he finds on the makeshift search is the one with Mel’s family on the beach again.

“‘And this one!’” He twists the picture around, showing the names of each person in the photo scribbled out on the back, an extra sign on his efforts to make sure that he can always remember everyone in each photo no matter how much time passes. “‘That’s right, that sheila, Mel! She was so fun to hang out with, and just as protective and loyal as me! One of the strongest, toughest girls I ever met and a wit that made me proud every day to know her.’” This time it’s Amelia’s eyes getting a touch wet as he speaks, though she bursts out into laughter when he adds, “‘Had this dumb belief that she was a goldfish, though; that was weird.’” He leans into her for another playful nudge again, flashing her a cheerful smile even as she’s fighting off sniffles. “‘But I remember she’d go swimming with me sometimes. I remember watching sports games with her and how it wasn’t so bad finally learning some of the more detailed rules for gridiron when she’d teach them to me instead of Alfred. That she was the only one to truly appreciate just how many shark-related items I owned and that whenever I was really down but couldn’t or didn’t wanna go to Ivo or the Kiwi, I always knew I could call her and she’d talk to me until I was laughing again.’”

He can hear her attempts to keep her composure failing as she sniffles a bit more, but he doesn’t turn to look at her again, letting her start to tear up in peace. He’s content enough just trying to get another little chuckle out of her when he curses and declares, “‘Can’t believe it’s been, like, seven hundred years already and I still miss her.”

She laughs, somewhat tearfully, as he slips his arm out from leaning against hers and swings it instead to wrap around her shoulders, pulling her into a tight hug despite only using the one limb. He sets the pictures back in the box with the other hand, before moving it over to meet its twin and fully enclose her in the hold. He mutters out that they were good times, though, as a final wrap up to the act, before leaning his head in to rest against hers. He squeezes her tightly, starting to rock her a little bit in an attempt to be comforting.

He takes a breath and then releases it in a deep sigh, letting the silence hold. It’s after a few moments that he finally speaks up again, apparently back to the present once more. “Mate, I get how it is learning all this sorta shit- and I don’t just mean ‘bout Nations and everything.” He pulls back from the hug just enough to see her face again, trying to make eye contact with her once more. Another attempt to add a necessary emphasis to his words. “So I’ll repeat it many times as you gotta hear it, even when I’m standing on your grave, whether it’s the first time or the fiftieth.”

He slows his words, enunciating them in a change from the normal fast-paced jumble of sounds his voice can sometimes come across as. He needs her to hear this. “You can say you wish your life held as much value as mine does, but I can die and come back at any time, so mine means nothing to me.” He turns to the side again, nodding at the shoebox and the pictures scattered around it, before looking back to her again. “Every person in this box, though- including you and your family? Those are the lives that matter to me, those are the ones that don’t just have value, they’re invaluable and always will be.” He pulls her forward again into another hug, letting her rest her head against his shoulder. “So if the only reason you’re upset about me being a Nation is ‘cause you think I’m gonna forget you when you’re gone, then you really got no reason to be upset at all, y’know?”

It takes a little bit of silence, only broken up by quiet sniffles into the fabric of Kyle’s jacket, before Amelia finally nods. She pulls her head back just enough to spare a word of thanks, then fully so she can get her hand in to wipe the water from her face. Kyle smiles softly as he releases his hold on her, shrugging in that casual way he does best and assuring her it’s no trouble at all. He starts to lean forward, reaching for another stack of photos to return to its box, but she reaches out a hand to stop him, asking if he wouldn’t mind if they kept looking at them. She picks up the one she’d looked at first of Blake’s prank, showing it to Kyle and insisting she’d love to hear the story on that one.

He’s a little surprised, but he nods eagerly once the request finishes processing. “Yeah, course!” He reaches forward, trying to pluck the photo from her hold even if she moves her hand away. “Maybe not that one exactly, but if you’d be interested in hearing ‘bout some of these, I’d love to share. Like I said, there’re some good ones in these boxes.” He sets the photos back down, helping to spread them out again, though momentarily stopping when he feels arms wrapping around his shoulders this time.

It’s a quick hug, but she squeezes hard, repeating her thanks to him as she holds the contact for a moment before letting him go. “I really do appreciate it.”

His smile is warm, so pleased at the news, and he nods as he says he’s glad to hear it. “But seriously, no worries! That’s what mates’re for. I’m here for ya, Mel, promise. Any time.” He cracks a little smirk and elbows her arm softly again, adding, “And not just cause I got plenty of it left.”

She shoots a look at him for the joke, but the smile she’s fighting betrays her amusement. He cracks into a bit of laughter, as well, before immediately digging into his pocket for his phone, insisting she keep the look up while he get the camera out. “Now that’s a shot for the box,” he declares.