to kill a mockingbird

( ... ) “i’m here for you,” he says softly, words breaking the silence between them, even if they’re only barely more than a whisper. “you’re not alone. not anymore.”

it surprises ephraim that it doesn't take long to pick the lock open to viktor's office. he has to kinda laugh in his head -- of course viktor would be so confident to have only the one lock in place. he was so sure that he wasn't going to be betrayed, or that he was scary enough to not be betrayed. there's still that little feeling in his head that viktor had this entire thing planned. well, he sort of did, didn't he? he just didn't realize he would be dead by the end of it.

"good job," ephraim whispers softly, though he's still reluctant to head inside. this isn't the same office where he was first branded, where he first met viktor, but he knows it's viktor's domain. this whole house might have belonged to him, but this office is where viktor's evil took place the most. would seeing it all change him too? ephraim doesn't know.

he blinks when the air shifts and hawk steps closer to him, places his hands on his sides so gently. eyelids flutter as he's brought into the sweetest hug hawk has ever given him. he can't help but to melt into his arms, hugging him back just as gently, and letting his eyes close.

"thank you,"  ephraim whispers softly. "you dunno how much it means to me you're here."

he lingers in the hug for a while before finally pulling away. "it's time," he nods his head before heading into the study first, examining the whole of the room. it's classic viktor, some dark paintings and sculptures in the corners of the room. there's a large self portraint behind his desk which turns ephraim's stomach.

"you can tell it was his," ephraim mumbles. he heads to the desk and slowly sits down in the seat. this desk would have answers. "let's start here... i think he has a vault somewhere too... probably behind one of his paintings..."  he looks at hawk before beginning to open drawers and look inside of them for notes or other secrets.

(...) “i’m ready,” ephraim says, squeezing hawk’s hand once more before releasing it so he can get to work.

he’s glad when the kiss seems to have the desired effect, giving ephraim some confidence back and so when the younger boy takes the lead, he follows without question or even trying to regain control. he follows all the way until they’re in front of the doors, and then still waits for ephraim’s words of permission before he calmly lets go of the boy’s hand and crouches in front of the door. it’s with quick, nimble fingers that he works his tools, and within less than a minute, there’s a click and he calmly pushes the door open.

he tucks his tools away again as if it’s absolutely normal that even while he’s still wearing somewhat comfortable clothes, he’s got them on him. when he straightens up, he turns his gaze to ephraim, taking in the younger boy’s features and seeing all the reluctance in those eyes still. there’s been a lot going on, and he doesn’t think there is very much to be done about the way ephraim was scarred other than letting time wash away the worst of it.

so he does the next best thing, crosses the distance between them again and lets his hands settle in the boy’s sides. he leans in, but even if he brings their faces close together again, it’s not to kiss him, rather to gently nuzzle his cheek and then simply let his hands slide to ephraim’s lower back and closing the last of distance between them until they’re wrapped up in what is probably the softest hug he’s ever given in his life.

( ... ) “don’t worry,” he utters more quietly as he pulls away from the boy again, lets his hand go down to take hold of ephraim’s, anchors them together so that the younger male no longer has to worry. “it’s over for now. i’m with you until i choose to go this time.”

again, ephraim watches a change take over echo and he's starting to wonder if  he's  the one to have lost his mind. this time, it's watching the dog-like personality shift back into something else and for a brief, very brief, second he thinks it's carter. but of course, and thankfully, it's not. it's hawk and all his scoffing glory. ephraim doesn't know whether to be relieved or cry or feel annoyed that hawk is being condescending.

"don't forget i was once a slave here..."  ephraim whispers softly, frowning a bit at hawk's nonchalance. he doesn't know how to get used to having people wait on him. as a child, it was easy because he didn't know how to take care of himself. but now, as an adult, he can take good care of himself and it just feels wrong to expect someone else to bring his food to him, or prepare a bath, or the other things he was also forced to do in this house.

it's all the fuss he makes as the topic switches to viktor's study. a shudder runs down his spine. he knows it isn't the same study he stood in as a naive and younger version of himself, the time he got the cigar burn on his skin. it still terrifies him.

hawk doesn't realize how badly ephraim needs that kiss, needs to feel something normal after the display of abnormal all morning. he releases a shaky breath when hawk pulls away, his fingers tight around hawk's. "yeah... i'm ready to learn what i can." whatever that entails, ephraim will deal with it when he comes to it.

it's ephraim that guides them up the stairs to viktor's study. the door is locked as it always is. they could've gotten the key from viktor's corpse, but ephraim doesn't think he has the stomach to go back down to that horrible room. no, hawk can pick the lock and ephraim can call for a locksmith or something to change the locks. in fact, changing all the locks wouldn't be a bad idea -- who knows what types of people have keys to this place.

(...) “do you want to head upstairs… or stay down here?” ephraim asks as soon as they’re both through the back door. upstairs is viktor’s bedroom, most of the bedrooms in fact, but downstairs is where viktor’s office is located.

the boy follows along once ephraim finally heads towards the mansion, doing that strange half-walk in between several bouts of sitting down on hands and feet. there’s a strangeness to the movements, but at the same time it’s all done with such unquestioning enthusiasm that it is hard to think any of it bad. the boy waits patiently on the ground for the door to open, then slips inside so quickly he nearly topples over, casually catching himself on his hands as he rolls over one shoulder and ends up in a crouch, one hand on the floor for balance.

ephraim speaks then, a simple question that he still takes a moment to consider, before slowly pushing himself up from the floor. when he straightens this time, it is with slow movements, a sort of hesitance to the usually fluid limbs. it takes a few moments of him just looking at the boy with the platter of food in his hands, before his eyes fully refocus and the ice blue of them takes in the platter of food.

then a scoff follows, and a roll of his eyes. “oh my god, ephraim, you can’t just carry the tray of food around like a servant,” he tells the younger male as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, picking the tray out of the boy’s hands and casually discarding it on the floor at the side of the hallway. “someone will clean it up once you turn your back, don’t worry about it. we can just order something else if you get hungry again.”

he’s absolutely acting like nothing strange whatsoever happened since he was last around, like he doesn’t miss the time between being in the midst of eating and finding himself in the middle of the hallway. but it doesn’t matter to him anyway, has never mattered, not with the way he runs his fingers through his dark hair then shows off his usual smug little smirk.

“want me to pick that lock for you?” he asks then. “you were looking for answers, weren’t you? i can get you into the biggest collection of heretofore unknown information without batting an eyelash at it.” he reaches out, casually cups that cheek, looks into those eyes that he knows are filled with the uncertainty of who he is - what he is - and then leans in to steal a quick kiss from those lips.

[ ... ]

once again he keeps that up for a moment or two, before he pushes himself up with his hands somewhat awkwardly and then runs a few steps away in the direction of the house. he comes to a sudden stop there, looking back at ephraim and doing a slight version of the earlier wagging, before running back. he sits back down once again almost instantly, keeping himself up on hands and feet as he rubs his face against ephraim’s knee again.

within moments he’s off once more, headed towards the house in a very human-like run although it is somehow still rather clumsy as well, where he comes to a stop and instantly goes down on both hands and feet again to look at ephraim and wait for the older boy to join him.

ephraim watches echo go through this whole process of being on his hands and knees, on how dog-like he seems. what it is that plagues the other, ephriam wants to help and that's exactly what his aim is the second they get inside. that doesn't stop him from watching how echo reacts to his words, how enthusiastic his best friend, or whoever this is, seems to be about moving inside.

it's not an answer, not the spoken answer he had hoped for, but he's tired and he's worried. he can't bring himself to focus too hard on the lack of response other than echolas running from the house back to him in this strange gait, like a human who's forgotten how to walk, or something pretending to be human walking on two legs for the first time.

another thing he tries not to focus too hard on.

he stands up from the chair and carefully places their meal in the center of the tray it'd been brought out on originally. they hadn't gotten to eat a lot, not that he's very hungry now, but he doesn't want the food to be left out nor wasted, so it's best kept with him and echo for now.

it's slow going to the door, eyes swapping between echo and the tray of food as he carefully makes his way over. "okay... let's head inside, okay?" he smiles, balancing the tray on one hand while opening the door with the other to allow echolas inside first.

(...) “echo,” he whispers, “or… whatever your name is…” he pulls away just a little to look at him, wiping away the moisture on his and the other boy’s cheeks. “wanna go inside? we can take our food in there?” he offers, petting over the boy’s cheek. he hope he’ll get something of an answer.

the boy sits with ephraim as the chef tries to come to terms with his own thoughts, calmly waiting for the fear to trickle out of the older boy bit by bit. the fear eventually ends up being replaced by another emotion that doesn’t vibrate very well, but at least it’s still better than the previous one was. staying in his position for a while longer, the boy waits until he is spoken to again, head lifting ever so slightly at the sound of the chef’s voice.

as ephraim speaks, the boy just looks at him, intelligent eyes focused on him despite the lack of sound from his side. when the hand is reached out to pet his cheek, he leans into it instantly, contently rubbing his face against the loving touch and savouring every little moment of it, drinking in the affection. the words eventually come to an end and he waits a moment or two more, enjoying the touch, before shifting his head to nuzzle the hand more properly, then give it a happy lick.

a moment later he’s off the lap, crouched on the floor on hands and feet, looking up at ephraim with something akin to enthusiasm in his gaze. he starts shaking his body then, looking completely crazy for a moment until he seems to become more used to the shape and it starts to look more and more like the wagging of a tail that is no longer there.

once again he keeps that up for a moment or two, before he pushes himself up with his hands somewhat awkwardly and then runs a few steps away in the direction of the house. he comes to a sudden stop there, looking back at ephraim and doing a slight version of the earlier wagging, before running back. he sits back down once again almost instantly, keeping himself up on hands and feet as he rubs his face against ephraim’s knee again.

( ... )

the warmth he radiates, however, has increased ever so slightly.

it’s confusing to the point of it being too much to take in. ephraim can’t absorb anything, and he wonders if he’s just not smart enough to understand, or if this is just so rare a situation that it’s nothing someone would normally talk about. but of course it wouldn’t be. ephraim listens to a lot of people talk, he’s been around quite a few people. no one’s ever mentioned something even remotely similar to this.

“echo,” he whispers softly, but there’s no answer. echo wouldn’t be so silent and he was scared when he left too. the only logical explanation is that this is a new person. one that doesn’t speak.

with a soft sigh, ephraim continues holding onto not-echolas, fingers running through his hair. he notices the warmth has increased, but what that means could be anything. echolas could be coming down with a fever, which is worrying, but if this new person doesn’t speak, they can’t communicate to say anything. there’s nothing to do. or, rather, nothing ephraim  knows to do.

which brings to mind the plethora of knowledge viktor must have possessed. to find him so easily on serenity, to get birdie and do what he did to her, to have echolas as his little errand boy. all that knowledge. there has to be something for echolas there; there must be a library somewhere. ephraim isn’t a strong enough reader to understand much, but he has the cortex, which he can log into on one of viktor’s devices. he can do this. he has  to do this.

(...) “echo…” he whimpers softly, “what do i do?” even if this isn’t his precious friend, he still threads his fingers through his hair and leans over to wrap his arms around his shoulders. he cries softly, shaking his head as he mutters ‘what can i do’ over and over again, as if echolas can give him an answer.

if there even is an answer.

the boy tilts his head lightly to the side, listening to the sound of a whimper coming from ephraim’s throat. as the arms come around him, he quietly leans into the hold, gently nuzzling the side of ephraim’s head and listening to the hushed whispers. he stays like that a little bit, before he quietly moves upwards. putting his hands on ephraim’s knees first, he gently nudges the other’s upper body upwards with his own. once there is enough space available, he crawls onto ephraim’s lap.

with a surprisingly tender carefulness, he slides his arms around the older male’s neck, nuzzling into his cheek in complete silence. despite ephraim’s continued question, all he does is gently nuzzle the boy’s cheek and then slowly starting to move his fingers in circles over the back of ephraim’s head, as if attempting to be a most soothing embrace.

only a soft sort-of sigh leaves him after a moment, before he shifts his head and gently rubs his cheek against ephraim’s, catching a few of the spilled tears and wiping them away as he does so. but there are no words of comfort offered, nor does he say anything whatsoever. the boy’s silence is absolute, as if he no longer knows hwo to use his own voice.

( ... )

for another moment, the boy just stands there, then he suddenly moves forward again, going down on his hands and knees and sticking his face close to ephraim’s knees before he starts to sniff the dirty blond boy’s hands.

it’s like a switch has been flipped. happiness, calmness to fear. ephraim wants to be confused at echolas’s sudden change in demeanor, but he isn’t given the chance to be. his confusion is sucked out of him and replaced with pure fear. this fear feels different than the kind viktor gave him — this almost seems sad, hopeless. just when he thought he was safe.

he reaches for echolas, wanting to hold his hands, touch his face. he wants to kiss his lips. anything to calm him, not that it’d do any good now. “we’ll fight it,” ephraim says, trying to soothe echolas even as his own spine trembles, sending a cold sweat to his temple.

his gaze jumps around as well, following echolas. he thinks maybe the other hears something he can’t, so he’s searching too. he could get ready to fight whatever it is — the knives are only butter knives, but ephraim has the determination and will to fight for echolas. anything to keep him safe.

he isn’t expecting that fear to multiply when echolas shifts before his eyes once again. this isn’t hawk he’s looking at. that snarl alone is enough to let ephraim know exactly who this is — the confirmation that luna was right. carter.

in that moment he isn’t fearful for his own life. he doesn’t want to die, no, but echolas is important to him. even if this isn’t echolas looking at him, he’d still let echolas take his life rather than kill the body that houses three innocent people. what is ephraim compared to echolas? to hawk? to luna?

when his hand twitches, ephraim’s tensing up, preparing to run, not fight. he doesn’t reach for a knife, as useless as it would be. he grounds his feet on the surface of the wooden boards beneath him to make a run for it. it doesn’t come to that though.

once more, before his very eyes, echolas’s face shifts, and then that bright smile is in place. but it isn’t echolas he’s looking at. hawk is smug, so it isn’t him either. and luna… luna was scared when she left, so it isn’t her. ephraim feels his heart twist in his chest, heartache taking hold of him as the boy gets on his hands and knees and then nudges against his hands.

“echo…” he whimpers softly, “what do i do?” even if this isn’t his precious friend, he still threads his fingers through his hair and leans over to wrap his arms around his shoulders. he cries softly, shaking his head as he mutters ‘what can i do’ over and over again, as if echolas can give him an answer.

(...) he strokes echolas’s cheek and lifts his head so he can look at him in the eyes. “i love you, echo… i’m here and we’ll figure things out together, okay?”

there it is; the reply that crushes all of his hopes that ephraim might somehow have a proper explanation for everything he’s missed out on. there it is; the reply that causes him to die a little inside, to lose any sense of calm and to find himself lost in a sudden whirlwind of fear and confusion.

and int he midst of all that, he suddenly knows more certain than ever that something bad is coming.

a whimper leaves him, lips trembling as he slowly straightens up. almost fearfully his eyes go over their surroundings just as slowly, as if he isn’t really sure whether he wants to figure out what it is that’s coming to them. his eyes are shiny with unspilled tears, a shine that doesn’t disappear even as he slowly blinks and starts to climb off ephraim’s lap again.

“something’s coming,” he says in a whisper, so filled with certainty of this fact that he makes sure both feet are on the ground again. “something bad is coming.” one hand temporarily still rests on the chair’s armrest before he lets go of that too, effectively putting an entire step of distance between ephraim and him. he takes another hesitating, careful step backwards, after that, hands trembling as he wipes them on his pants, eyes still taking in his surroundings with an almost haunted look.

and then suddenly his posture straightens, the trembling stops and an absolutely handsome smile spreads on his face. the shine in his eyes turns into a glitter, his entire expression becoming one of utter confidence and content, stance sliding into the casually reassured certainty hawk tends to keep himself with.

until the eyes shift down to find ephraim, ice blue focusing on the young man in the chair, and all the warm, handsome confidence suddenly turns lethal. the grin widens into something predatory, the blue seeming to disappear entirely from the eyes and turning them a cold, dangerous grey. the smirk bares teeth, but it is not a pleasant sort of thing, more like a dangerous growl, a predator getting ready to jump his prey, to finish the life of the future meal before him.

almost, almost, the man moves forward, but it’s a mere twitching of the hand before the dangerous expression suddenly turns into one of annoyed confusion and then angry surprise. within seconds the entire expression clears again to neutrality. it takes a short second before the boy starts to smile again, this time soft and warm, full of trust and reassurance.

( ... )

… and how did his hands get so clean? how did all of him get so clean?

nothing makes sense anymore. nothing but the man he’s hiding against, meanwhile already crawled up on his lap so he can completely immerse himself in those arms, be kept safe by them and away from any possible dangers.

“where was i?” he repeats softly, voice almost tearful with his confusion.

ephraim holds echolas the best he can given where they’re sitting. he squeezes him in close and places kiss after kiss to the crown of his head, nuzzling into his hair that’s freshly washed. he rocks them as echolas goes quiet, obviously deep in thought. ephraim is worried over the questions, and he has a right to be — he knows little of echolas’s mind, of how this sort of thing works, and if echolas asks, well…

ephraim doesn’t know what to say.

and sure enough, he asks questions ephraim can’t answer. he can’t even fathom a vague response to ease this precious boy’s mind. so he holds him closer and kisses his forehead and the tip of his nose.

“i don’t know,” ephraim responds truthfully. “i can’t really explain it…” he closes his eyes and just hopes echolas doesn’t cry. he doesn’t want him to be sad or scared, but he doesn’t know how to soothe him other than hold him and whisper that things will be okay. and he hopes those whispers aren’t lies.

he looks at the food and then to echolas. “s’okay, baby,” he whispers soothingly, fingers threading through echolas’s hair. “you’re here, and i’m gonna keep you safe n’ sound. we’re free, viktor’s gone. he left everything to me, dunno why, still figurin’ it out. but it’s mine  and you’re safe with me.”

(...) the matter of the clothes makes him smile a little before sighing. “these are hawk’s… i’ve met him and he’s not what you think. it’s okay, echo — i’ll keep you safe.” he doesn’t promise it and he can’t promise it because then it will break and ephraim will never forgive himself. he already has too many things he can’t forgive himself for.

echolas sits there listening to how ephraim explains all kinds of impossible things to him. viktor dead, killed by ephraim himself, and more of that almost insane sounding seemingly nonsense. yet the conviction with which the older male is telling him this kind of forces echolas to believe it, because what else can he do? 

but then ephraim tells him something even more outrageous; meeting hawk, being given clothes by hawk, any sort of friendliness supposedly coming from hawk. it makes no sense. nothing makes sense. nothing at all.

except maybe, maybe...

he breathes out slowly, leans in closer against ephraim, buries himself in the reassuring hold while he continues to try and figure out what the truth of things probably is. there are so many options and there is so little he can be certain of that honestly he is quite certain he won’t be able to figure it out, but there’s only so much he can handle not knowing. only so much he can tell himself he shouldn’t worry too much about before it becomes suspicious.

“what happened?” he whispers again, breathless in fear for what he might be told next. “where was i?”

this is the question that plagues him the most. with all this going on, where has he been? what happened in the hours he can’t remember, in the time between where he was yesterday - roaming the streets of the city - and finding himself having breakfast at a table in viktor’s garden, not bothered by guards or staff despite the fact that he’s just a street rat and ephraim is a captive.

... and how did his hands get so clean? how did all of him get so clean?

nothing makes sense anymore. nothing but the man he’s hiding against, meanwhile already crawled up on his lap so he can completely immerse himself in those arms, be kept safe by them and away from any possible dangers.

( ... )

but then something else registers, something that finally captures his full attention and causes him to pause once more.

“wha- whose clothes are that?”

ephraim watches echolas struggle with the news he’s been told. it’s not really clear on his face how his reaction is, but it’s blank and that could mean one of two things. either he doesn’t understand what’s going on, the most likely option, or he’s fading back out until someone else takes control. he watches the younger, waiting for his eyes to sharpen, or mouth to twist into a grimace, any tell-tale signs of hawk or luna. he feels guilty that he doesn’t know how to handle this and instead waits for further incentive to say more.

“gone,” ephraim repeats slowly, careful of how he approaches this. no one else is talking to him but echolas, which means he’s still gripping onto what’s gone on. ephraim wonders when the last time was that echolas was out and about. how much of his life has he missed out on? “he…” ephraim starts then frowns. is this too much to pile into echolas now?

he thinks about himself, how his own mind is fractured in it’s own way. how he grows stronger concerning echolas, but with hawk or luna he isn’t afraid to show how upset, how affected, by things he truly is.

a gentle tug and ephraim nearly crushes echolas against his chest, but his arms loosen after just a moment. “he’s dead, echo. he and his men… they were killed. i…” he sighs softly and rests his forehead against echolas’ shoulder. “i killed viktor…”

then hawk is brought up but echolas is afraid of him. he frowns. that doesn’t seem right. echolas’ brother was named darius, but his nickname was hawk, surely echolas remembers it. unless he’s put the trauma so far from himself that the memories are like a fog, or perhaps not even there at all. his heart squeezes at the idea of echolas not even remembering his own brother, the person luna said echolas looked up to most.

unconsciously, ephraim squeezes echolas closer, another thought coming to him, filling him with dread. hawk isn’t the bad one — he might be stoic and a bit firm, but he isn’t the one the servants fear. it’s carter  and that bastard sounds just as conniving as viktor — who’s to say that he didn’t call himself hawk just because he could. hawk dared to go after carter, dared to defy his own death only to possibly fail in the end.

carter would muddy hawk’s name if he could.

ephraim mentions none of this to echolas, and he’s not sure he could say anything to hawk or luna about it either. this is just an idea in his head, and one he has no one to share it with. he might just be cursed with this thought, this knowledge, for the unforeseeable future.

he closes his eyes and hugs echolas closer, stroking down his back. “don’t be scared,” ephraim whispers, “we’re safe right now and if somethin’ happens, i’ll take care’a you.”

(...) “we’re safe,” ephraim whispers to him. he doesn’t say how safe, not given the information luna has about carter, but they’re safe enough for now. “c’mere,” he gently tugs on echolas’s hands, wanting to pull him from the ground and into his arms where he can kiss his cheeks and comfort him in a way he knows echolas will like. it’s the only kind of comforting ephraim is truly good at, the soft affectionate touches and kisses, as words often escape him and he sure as hell doesn’t have the vocabulary to ease anyone’s mind.

ephraim’s level of complete and total calm confuses him, so much so that he goes absolutely quiet for a long moment and just looks at the older male with a degree of incomprehension on his face that doesn’t clear even as his knuckles are kissed and more words are spoken to him. he still hasn’t managed to process what he’s being told by the time ephraim tugs at him in return, pulling him back up from the floor and into a warm hold.

it takes a little while, his body placid and soft under ephraim’s hands, not a single thought of pulling away entering his mind, before eventually the words manage to find some sort of footing within his brain. he stills then, utterly and completely, and for the first time in forever the blank space between then and now doesn’t get filled in automatically. he’s used to this feeling, temporarily losing sight of how he got somewhere, but there’s always an explanation that follows not long after, always a gap he can fill with vague recollection. not now, though, when he keeps drawing blank on how on earth he ended up out there in the chairs at the table together with ephraim.

“gone?” he echoes the word, hesitant still but already accepting it as truth. because if ephraim says it’s so, then it is so. the older male would never lie to him, that is something he is absolutely and utterly convinced of. the problem is then; what happened? why does he not remember? what is going on?

“how is he gone? what happened? did he die? did someone kill him? what about his men?” suddenly cold fear grips his heart and he takes tighter hold of ephraim’s hands. “what about hawk?” he’s heard the name. of course he has. everybody has heard whispers of the name of viktor’s right hand man, the terror of the entire city. a ghost in the night, doing viktor’s bidding down to the very last gruesome detail. even if viktor’s gone, there are still those loyal to him. “if he finds us here he will do unspeakable things.”

his eyes widen again, terror gripping him once more at the thought of what could happen to ephraim should hawk find them. many a prisoner has died in the hands of the cold eyed devil, and echolas isn’t exactly ready to see ephraim become the next.

but then something else registers, something that finally captures his full attention and causes him to pause once more.

( ... )

“i- how did we… where are we?” he frowns as the words leave him, looking around himself more properly and gasping in both surprise and fear as his eyes fall upon the mansion. he’s out of the chair in no time, clambering over the back rest of it to hide behind it, a hand grasping hold of ephraim’s arm to tug at it, to get him to hide as well. there’s pure terror in his eyes now, an uncontrollable tremble in his hand even as it holds on to the older boy’s sleeve.

“what are we doing here?” he hisses, terrified. “what if he sees us?”

ephraim has to stifle a chuckle at hawk’s near ravenous bite out of the bread. he’d question what the bread did to offend him, but he isn’t sure how the little jab would be taken right now. he’s comfortable around hawk, but he’s still unsure what jokes are good, and what things shouldn’t be said. he hopes he can figure it out so he never hurts hawk, nor the others within echolas, but it’s an inevitability he’ll have to face eventually.

when the bread is handed back to him, ephraim decides to take another bite, enjoying the warmth while it lasts. he knows it’ll soon be cold and won’t be as soft as it is now. he listens to the humming, pleased with the soft tone that hawk uses as he gazes over the options on the platter. ephraim looks as well, but finds his attention drawn to hawk each time, as if his stomach has no say in the matter even though he’s near starving again.

even while eating, ephraim’s gaze is on hawk, watching as his expression slowly changes, how his eyes widen in an unhawk-like manner. and then, ephraim is gazing at echolas for the first time in who knows how long. he smiles brightly at the younger male, reaching out to stroke through his hair only for some sense to come to echolas and fear to take hold of him.

the tugging on his sleeve nearly causes him to drop the bread, not that it matters right now, so he sets it down on the platter. he takes echolas’s hands in his own and whispers softly to him. “echo… it’s okay now,” he whispers softly, kissing his knuckles to calm him. “he’s gone, echo. viktor,” the name still causes his throat to close, but he pushes through, “viktor is gone… i swear it.”

(...) thought tempted, he waits until he’s swallowed before replying. “it’s great,” he hums, a smile on his lips. “still warm and soft on the inside. it’s perfect.” he doesn’t add that he could make better, like he would normally. he’s not sure he could in all honesty. “you try,” he nudges hawk’s hand to push the bread a little towards him.

hawk’s eyes stay on ephraim in the way his name would suggest, following every single tiny movement and waiting to see what the verdict is. there’s still a smile on his face even now, warm and gentle and soft as he looks at the way ephraim chews almost pensively, considering the flavour properly. whether that is because hawk asked him to judge it or if the younger always eats like this is something he still needs to figure out, though.

his expression grows only warmer when ephraim finally gives his opinion, then nudges the bread closer to him so he can give it a try too. he doesn’t do anything of the careful kind but simply tears off a piece of the bread with his teeth and chews it properly before swallowing. it is good indeed and he hums contently and nods at ephraim, handing the rest of the piece in his hand to the younger male.

he looks at the other pieces of food on the plate then, humming a merry little tune as he takes it all in, considering what he feels like eating. most of the food is warm, indeed, so he temporarily sets aside his plans to get right back to what they were doing before in favour of letting ephraim have something warm to fill his stomach with.

and then, suddenly, his eyes fall upon something on the table and the humming stops in the middle of a note. the pair of blue eyes widens, a hand reaching out to take hold of the glass bottle and then pure and utter delight spreads out over his features like there has never been anything more amazing or beautiful than the golden liquid he’s looking at.

“look, ephy!” he cries out happily, holding the bottle out to the older boy at his side and beaming his brightest grin of yet at the other. “it’s honey!” sky blue eyes fix on the other boy, sparkling with delight, until their surroundings register and all of a sudden confusion dots echolas’ features, and he moves backwards a little in both surprise and uncertainty.

“i- how did we... where are we?” he frowns as the words leave him, looking around himself more properly and gasping in both surprise and fear as his eyes fall upon the mansion. he’s out of the chair in no time, clambering over the back rest of it to hide behind it, a hand grasping hold of ephraim’s arm to tug at it, to get him to hide as well. there’s pure terror in his eyes now, an uncontrollable tremble in his hand even as it holds on to the older boy’s sleeve.