Whumple-Dumple

Pain shot through his arm and the back of his head as he was knocked clean off his bike and landed harshly into the side of a car that was parked along the side of the street.

Coughing and tasting blood, he rolled onto his knees and glanced at the damage. The door was dented. Lovely.

Dad’s gonna kill me. He groaned.

“Uffda! Are you alright?” A gruff voice asked.

Ezra glanced up at the person who was now hopping out of the back of the food truck just as another man walked around the other side.

The one who had jumped from the back of the car was tall and buff, with long, greasy hair that spilled out of his beanie in strands. The other was shorter, but buff all the same. Bald, but had a big beard Ezra had only ever imagined seeing on tv or in the mountains.

Just the sight of them gave him bad vibes. They were wearing dark, thick clothes, even though it was the middle of summer, and yes, it was late, but not ‘get your wearable blanket’ late.

The surge of adrenaline from the dread made him stand up. His head gave an angry throb that urged him to sit back down, but he didn’t give into it. 

“I-I’m okay!” He assured, fumbling in his pocket for any scrap of paper he could write his information down on. “The car is more damaged than I am.”

“That bloody nose says otherwise.” The second man pointed out. “Let us give you a ride to the E.R.”

“No!” Ezra said quickly, too quickly probably, so he corrected himself almost absentmindedly. “Thank you, but my dad is expecting me at home any minute. If he really thinks something’s wrong he’ll take me.” 

Lucky enough for him, he found an old receipt in his jeans pocket and grabbed the pen he kept in his sweatshirt pocket. He used the hood of the car as a table and quickly started scribbling.

So sorry I dented your car! I’ll pay for any repairs! Phone: (XXX)-XXX-XXXX  —Ezra Moore.

The dumbest thing he did was probably turning his back on the two large, creepy men, because right as he stuffed the note under the windshield wipers his head was yanked back by his ponytail, and something was slapped over his mouth.

Tape, he quickly realized. 

He was dragged backwards and unceremoniously tossed into the back of the ‘food truck’ which smelt of anything but food. 

The bigger of the men climbed in the back with him and shut the door, while he heard the other man rush around to the front of the vehicle. 

With his hands unbound, the first thing he did was rip the tape off his mouth.

He managed to get out one single: “Help—!” before the big man slammed one hand down on his mouth again. The other gripped his scalp and smashed his head repeatedly into the metal bottom of the van.

Stars shot across his vision from the first, from the second, his head throbbed, and his vision grayed. The third time his head met metal, everything went dark.

The next thing he could accurately understand was that the car was in motion. 

Dread curled in his sternum. He didn’t want to go wherever they were taking him. He just wanted to go home.

With a whine, he forced his eyes open. He had to blink a few times to get his bearings and get the tears free from his eyelashes.

Maybe he could talk his way out of this. He hadn’t done anything wrong, after all. Certainly they didn’t have a grudge against him… right? He just needed to appeal towards their humanity. And if that didn’t work, he’d do what every rich person would do. He’d bribe them.

Maybe he should start with that, actually.

Ezra tried not to move his head too much, as he didn’t want to make anything worse for himself, but he had to in order to fully scan the van. Pain shot through it as he shifted, and more tears sprang from his eyes as he hissed.

He found the man who had been on him sitting next to him in the van. He had Ezra’s wallet in one hand, and his license in the other.

He shifted, trying to sit up, or curl up, or anything, really, but hazily, he made out the feeling of zip ties around his wrist, and around his ankles.

“Aw, your twentieth birthday is this Friday?” The man asked, a sick grin spreading across his face. “How exciting! We’ll have to get you a few gifts.”

Yeah, bribery first. He did not want to spend his birthday with these guys.

A tiny whimper crawled up from the back of Ezra’s throat at the thought, and he shook his head the miniscule amount he could despite the pain. “P-Please. I-I—Is this about money? I-I can give you money, I-I swear. M-My cards a-are in that wallet. D-Debit and credit. I-I won’t even cancel them! J-Just—Just let me go home. Please.”

“It is about money.” The man said. “Just… not yours.”

“M-My dad?” He asked carefully, hesitant hope blossoming in his chest. “He–He’ll pay. H-He can p-pay a ransom. H-He will. H-He’ll pay anything. Just—P-Please don’t hurt me. P-Please take me home.”

Wow. Throw Dad under the bus, why don’t you? His conscience hissed at him. 

“Sure. Something like that.” The man said, reaching over and tearing another strip of tape off the roll.

Ezra whimpered again and shifted backwards as best as his bound limbs would allow him.

The man grabbed his hair again and slapped the tape back on, not paying any mind to the tiny resistance he got. 

Not that Ezra made kink-shaming his hobby, but this guy desperately seemed like he enjoyed it just a smidge too much. Or maybe Ezra was just vain and didn’t want people touching his hair.

Hey, nobody said two things couldn’t be true.

I’m so screwed. Ezra thought, the adrenaline finally wearing down and giving way to the horrible ache in his head, and the absolute soreness of his entire body. Specifically his shoulder, where he had smashed into the car.

He didn’t know how long they had been driving, just that the tears had dripped back and had started to soak into his blonde hair, which probably looked like a rats nest now, but then there was a buzzing sound.

My phone! He realized, and his head snapped toward the sound, but it was already in the hands of his captor.

Another smirk took up his face as he flipped it around so Ezra could read it. 

It being the word Dad in big, bold letters. The caller I.D. photo was a picture of Ezra, his dad, Enzo, and his stepmother, Margaret, at Ezra’s graduation.

His screen was cracked, probably from the fall, but it didn’t misconstrue the proud smile on Enzo’s face. He remembered that day so vividly despite the gushing head wounds.

His father had scooped him up in a bear hug, he’d been so proud. Sure, Enzo had spent the rest of the week complaining of back pain, but Ezra thought about that moment almost every day.

And all the man in front of him did was drop the phone on the floor and a loud crunch filled the van when he brought his heel down onto his phone.

Ezra let out a choked, desparate sob from behind the tape.

He didn’t understand. Why didn’t they answer? Isn’t this about money? Don’t they want a ransom? Why was this happening to him? What had Ezra done to deserve this?

Yes, he had money, but it was barely his! It was all his dad’s money. He worked in a coffee shop for minimum wage just so he could feel like he earned something. He used his own money to buy his stepbrothers and friends presents, and he tried his very best to be nice to everyone.

Maybe if he had been a typical rich douche and had just left the minute the guys showed up rather than staying to leave his information… maybe he wouldn’t be in this mess. Maybe he could go home. 

-

Enzo Moore:

Straight to voicemail. Again.

This was the third time he’d tried to call his son, and the second time it went directly to his voicemail. It had rang the first time, so maybe Ezra was just ignoring his calls, but that didn’t make sense. 

Ezra never ignored him… well, his phone calls at least. 

“Hey, Ez, you were supposed to be home Forty-five minutes ago.” He said after the tone. “You’re an adult, so I don’t care if you’re staying at a friend’s or whatever, but I’d appreciate it if you’d let me know you’re okay. You know I worry. Just… text me, please.”

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, the feeling of dread curling behind his ribs as he set his phone back down on his desk.

Some would probably say he was an overbearing father, and he wasn’t entirely sure he could disagree. His son was going to be twenty in two days, and he was still calling him to find out where he was. But he preferred to be seen as an overprotective father than an absent one. Especially after the divorce.

It was what was best. For everybody. That’s what he had to keep telling himself. That’s what he’d been telling himself for sixteen years.

“Hey, Enzo.” Margaret greeted as she creaked open the door to Enzo’s home office. “Did you get the reservations?”

He smiled up at her. “Yep. Linguini Lane, table for six, seven o’clock. Tell Mylo to look… presentable.”

She plopped herself down in. “I mean, I’ll try, but you know how he is.”

Unfortunately, Enzo knew exactly how his oldest stepson was. Selfish. 

Don’t get him wrong, he loved his boys, all four of them, and they all got spoiled, but Mylo had always seemed to see Margaret marrying Enzo as some sort of slight against him, so Enzo had, discreetly, started spoiling him more than the rest.

He missed Ezra’s school functions to go watch Mylo’s baseball games. He’d canceled business meetings to take Mylo and his friends places when Margaret was out of town. He’d brought Mylo along on days where it was just meant to be Enzo and Ezra.

The boy still disliked him. They had a mutual respect to one another, but it didn’t go beyond that. And Enzo would never ask it to. 

The only real problem Margaret and Enzo ever had was integrating their boys. She had three sons, so when they first started dating, they had just assumed it would be a breeze.

It wasn’t.

To this day they weren’t close. Well, Monty, Mylo, and Mason were close. But none of them were all that close to Ezra. Mylo and Monty had taken to teasing him when they were younger, and Mason had just followed suit. They never really grew out of it.

Enzo did his best to stop it when they were kids, but he still couldn’t help but feel he’d put Ezra, who had been his only source of joy before Margaret, in a position where he was an outsider in his own home.

“Are you okay?” Margaret asked. “You seem…distant.”

“I’m just… worried.” He admitted carefully. “Ezra was supposed to be home almost an hour ago, and his phone is going straight to voicemail.”

“Well, it’s probably dead.” She said. “Or he fell off his bike and broke it again.”

Enzo’s head snapped toward her. “Thank you, Margie. Helpful.”

“Well, maybe he’ll finally learn to take his car instead of his bike if he has to buy another phone.” She offered, grinning at him before focusing on one of her manicured nails.

“Funny.” He muttered, sinking further into his office chair. “I understand why he likes the bike, I just… don’t like it. But he’s an adult. I gotta back off.”

Margaret raised a brow. “I don’t recall you being this paranoid when Monty came home late last week.”

Enzo groaned. “Marg, can we not start this now? Please? Monty has a car, and he answered your texts, albeit drunk. Ezra never ignores my calls, and he always lets me know when he won’t be home.”

“Ezra has a car. He just chooses not to use it.” She objected. “I’m just saying that maybe he wants a little freedom. Maybe you should give him a little space to breathe.”

“I will!” Enzo snapped as he sat up and smoothed his hair. “Just… when I can talk to him about it, so I know he’s gonna be safe.”

She opened her mouth to say something else, probably to object, but Enzo’s phone started buzzing again. He didn’t think he’d moved so quickly in five years.

He answered without looking at the caller I.D. “Hello?” 

“Hey, Enzo, it’s James.” The caller said.

Of course. James was one of Enzo’s buddies from college. Normally, Enzo wouldn’t be concerned about James calling out of the blue, but with Ezra not answering, and James’ job working for the police department, the dread that had been dormant beyond his ribs engulfed him.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, standing so fast his chair tipped behind him. He didn’t pick it up. Margaret stood too, eyes wide with worry.

He heard James sigh. “Well, I don’t know. Uhm, some couple called. They were eating at Dash’s Diner, and their car got dented. Apparently Ezra dented it and the couple was concerned because he left his bike there, so I was wondering if he called you to come pick him up.”

Enzo’s heart dropped into his toes. “No. I haven’t heard from him all night. He’s not picking up his phone, and it keeps going to voicemail.”

“Maybe he fell hard and went to the E.R. or a friend’s place. Doesn’t explain why he left the bike, but maybe he hurt himself and couldn’t ride it.” James said. “Alright, well, give me a call if he comes home, yeah?”

Enzo was already hanging up. He shoved his phone back into his pocket and rushed for the door.

“Enzo, what’s going on?” Margaret asked, panic taking up her face as she followed him. 

“They found Ezra’s bike by Dash’s Diner.” He explained briskly, snatching his keys off the hook. “I’m gonna go look for him. Call me if he turns up here, as soon as possible, please.”

He didn’t give her a chance to argue, he was already out the door. Should he be driving on pure adrenaline? No, probably not. But he clambered up into his SUV all the same.

The minute he turned the key and the engine roared to life, so did his phone. This time, he did check the caller I.D. Unknown, but it had a 907 area code. 

He made a mental note of that as he answered, mind already racing. “Hello?” 

“Hello!” An eerily cheery tone responded. “Is this Enzo Moore? Ex-husband of Sydney Peters?”

Enzo hesitated. Sydney was bad news. Saying you had anything to do with her made bad things happen. But Enzo had a feeling something bad had already happened.

“Yes, I am.” He forced out. “Why?”

“Oh, perfect!” The man on the other line said. “You see, she and I had a… business arrangement, and recently she went no contact. With a lot of my money.”

Enzo froze. He didn’t like where this was heading. “I-I—I’ll write you a check. Look, I’m rather busy, so if you would just give me a number—”

“Twenty.” The man cut him off.

“Twenty grand?!” Enzo sputtered. 

How on earth could that woman have taken that much? He didn’t want to sound rude, and he definitely wouldn’t say this out loud, but she was… all beauty and no brains.

“No, that’s how old her son will be in two days.” The man’s voice darkened. “I didn’t call you to get any money. I just felt the gentlemanly thing to do would be to let you know that since she is M.I.A., her son will be paying her debts. Personally.”

“No!” Enzo shrieked, his entire body going rigid, one hand gripping the steering wheel as he fought the urge to throw his phone out the window. “Please! Name your price! I’ll give you anything! However much you want! I-I’ll mortgage my house if I have to!  Please don’t hurt him!” 

“You’re pleading with the wrong person.” The man said, suddenly sounding bored with the conversation. “Talk to your ex. I’ll give you one month to find her and get her to give my money back. In that month, your son will be collateral. If you don’t get my money, from her, I’ll sell him to get it.”

“No! Please!” Enzo shrieked, but the man had already hung up. 

He chucked his phone down onto the passenger seat floor. Probably not the smartest move, but he was already pulling his car into drive and slamming on the gas.

Tyus had stammered, trying to muster some form of defense Something along the lines that Mutt had been the one to not say anything. That technically Mutt wasn’t in trouble for Tyus, he was in trouble for talking. But Rivia had just stormed off.

Tyus couldn’t blame her.

She and Mutt had been close ever since she started working, and Mutt had taken the fall for him nearly every time Tyus almost got into trouble. He didn’t know why, but every time Tyus did something dumb, or wrong, Mutt would do something dumber to draw attention away from it.

The first three times, Tyus considered it a coincidence. But then when it kept happening, he realized it was purposeful. Mutt had been saving him. Saving him from going back onto the streets.

He didn’t understand why. When he first met Mutt, he was so certain that the guy hated him. Like… a lot. Sure, he wasn’t rude, but he seemed to not want Tyus around at all.

He was sixteen when he started working for Norrix. He hadn’t wanted to, but his stepfather kicked him out at fifteen, and he had been desperate for any form of work. 

Mutt and Tyus had become close fast. Overly fast, honestly.

Even though Tyus was older by a year, Mutt had always looked out for him.

Originally, he was first hired to be Mutt’s assistant. He followed him around with a little clipboard and a stick of charcoal.  Originally, he hadn’t really been needed for day-to-day life, only when Norrix was hosting a party or a ball so Mutt didn’t forget anything.

But Norrix kept him on for day-to-day too, only thanks to a bunch of begging from Tyus. 

He remembered the first time Mutt and he actually had a conversation.

He had been chasing after him during the planning of a ball, checking everything off that Mutt shouted back at him. It wasn’t until they stopped in the doorway down to the gardens that they paused.

“Uhm… so, I know this might seem… odd, but, how would I go about… asking for an advance on pay?” Tyus had asked.

Mutt had looked at him like his hair had spontaneously lit . “You…You want an advance your second week working?”

Tyus remembered losing all nerve. “Uh–I well, I only meant—I-I’d like to be able to afford a room in an inn, perhaps? I-I am currently sleeping in a hayloft and bathing in the creek, so I just hoped—”

Mutt had cut him off with an incredulous stare, then shook his head and walked away, yelling about how the servants were moving the flowers wrong. Tyus thought all hope was lost, until he was called into Norrix’s office.

Apparently Mutt had said he wanted Tyus to have room and board at the estate, and before Tyus knew it, he was sleeping in more than hay and bathing in an actual tub, not a secluded river in the outskirts of the city walls. And eventually he was promoted to being an actual servant, which he could feel Mutt’s fingerprints all over that little miracle.

Tyus had always wanted to repay him, but it seemed his debt to Mutt grew larger with every mistake he made.

Now, his mistake had landed Mutt in much worse conditions than ever before. 

That morning, Tyus watched from the servants passage when Mutt was brought in, and Tyus thought the boy had never looked more like his namesake. 

He was still sopping wet, even though it had stopped raining at some point in the night. His hair, usually a silky, smooth, black waterfall down his back, had been pulled free of the braided style and the strands fell around his face like limp noodles. He was shivering so hard it was a miracle he was still standing.

“Have you learned your lesson?” Nash asked, utterly pleased with the state of his prized pooch.

“Yes, Master.” Mutt choked out between his chattering teeth.

“Good. Go warm up. Your chittering is already getting on my nerves.” Nash waved a dismissive hand as he turned down the hall. “You have one hour. I want you waiting outside the door for breakfast.” 

Mutt stood there for a minute after he left, then started moving towards the servant’s quarters.

Tyus was following him before he could really think about the consequences. 

He really hoped Mutt wasn’t mad at him, but he also couldn’t understand how he wouldn’t be. Tyus knew he wasn’t good at his job. He thought things too literally, and overthought everything if an order or preference was implied rather than stated. 

He knew that. Mutt knew it too. So, why has Mutt never gotten angry with him? Frustrated? Yes. Exasperated? Frequently. But never angry. Why? 

It was a question Tyus wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to.

“Mutt!” He called after him when he realized he wasn’t turning around or noticing he was following him.

He did, and his entire posture eased like Tyus had cut the string keeping his back straight.

“Oh, hey, Ty.” He greeted softly, letting his friend catch up before he kept moving. “How’d the rest of the evening go?”

Tyus hesitated. He couldn’t believe how domestic Mutt was being with him. Though, it shouldn’t have been a surprise, after all, this was the same guy who had a private birthday party planned for him just days after Tyus had gotten him taken to the stocks.

“Uhm, fine.” Tyus said plainly, slowing his pace so he didn’t move too quickly for the shivering servant to keep up. “I mean, Burtsie was foul, and screamed at all the staff for like… ten minutes afterwards. And Rivia is fuming at me because it was my fault you were sent out, and Norrix has—”

Mutt stopped in his tracks, cutting Tyus off. “Why is Rivia angry with you? You didn’t do anything.”

“But… it was my fault you were put out there.” Tyus admitted softly.

Mutt rolled his eyes. “It was not. Nash is just a crybaby. She’ll get over it, and if she doesn’t, tough. Technically, that’s between you and me, and I’m not mad.”

Tyus and Mutt resumed their march down the marble corridor. They went in silence, until a rather violent shudder raked through Mutt, causing him to stop again.

“Oh… how mad do you think he’d be if I just fell asleep in the hall?” He asked, and based on the dark circles around his eyes, Tyus wouldn’t put it past him.

So, he did what his father used to do for him when he was tired, and bent his knees to a crouch. 

There was silence. Then a snort that sounded like it would have been a giggle, had Mutt not choked it back.

“I’m confused.” Mutt said, voice still on the edge of a l. “You want me to climb on your back?”

Tyus glanced back at him with a grin. “Don’t sound too excited.”

“I’ll get your uniform all wet.” He protested, but the shivers were still ripping through him, which really muted his point.

“I’ll change while you’re warming up.” Tyus nodded. “Now get on before I scoop you up bridal style.”

Mutt groaned, but Tyus felt him clamber up behind him, muttering something about being called a pig. Once Mutt was securely on his back, he took off down the hall.

Mutt went boneless against his back, chin on Tyus’ shoulder. He was still shivering, but it was less violent now. Not like he had warmed, like his body was just too exhausted to remember how to function.

“I really am sorry, Mutt.” Tyus whispered. “I’ll make it up to you, though. I swear.”

“It’s really okay, Ty.” Mutt assured him with a sigh. “I’m not upset, just a little waterlogged.”

Tyus didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything. They just moved in silence through the halls.

The corridors blurred past them, but the only thing on Tyus’s mind was not dropping the boy on his back. He hadn’t slept a wink, and his muscles weren’t as up to the task as he thought.

Rather than the exhaustion reigning over him, he focused on the scuff of his boots as he made it down the hall, and the polite nods he gave to some bewildered staff as he passed them. He focused on the snoring. 

…Wait, snoring?

He froze where he was. 

“Mutt?” He whispered, shifting him higher on his back.

No response.

Sweet stars, Mutt had fallen asleep.

The boy was dead weight against his back, chin resting on Tyus’s shoulder as he snored softly into his ear. Well, at least Mutt trusted him enough to fall asleep around him. Though he supposed he slept on a cot in Norrix’s room for the past six years, so it probably wasn’t the compliment Tyus thought it was.

He didn’t want to wake him, Mutt probably had gotten as much sleep as Tyus did, after all, but also, he only had an hour to be back outside the dining hall.

So, he eased his steps, but still hustled.

He knew Mutt had his private closet, and his own private bathing area, perks of being owned, Tyus guessed, but Tyus wasn’t about to just drop him in a closet and wake him up after five minutes, so instead he took him to the actual servant’s quarters.

He plopped him down on Tyus’s cot and covered him with the thin, pale blanket all the staff got. Mutt didn’t stir. He didn’t even shift, just kinda nestled deeper into the blankets.

Tyus paused before he could walk away.

Very rarely did Mutt ever look that at peace. Sure, Tyus hadn’t made it a habit to sneak into Norrix’s room just to watch Mutt sleep, obviously, that’d be creepy. 

But, even in the day to day, Mutt always had tension in his shoulders.  He talked big behind their backs, but when he was with Nash and Norrix, he never got smaller.

Maybe that was intentional. Maybe he acted small the same way Tyus acted dumb around anyone who wasn’t Mutt. 

Being dumb was safe for Tyus. It had gotten him out of more mistakes than Mutt had. Maybe Mutt felt the same way about being small. Maybe being small was how Mutt survived.

It didn’t sit right. He’d always known how Mutt was treated was wrong. He’d always hated it, but he’d also known there was nothing he could do about it. 

Now, seeing Mutt find peace in slumber while his waking world was like walking on a tightrope above fire ants, Tyus finally felt like he didn’t have a choice anymore. Something had to be done. If not by him, then by someone else.

~Taglist~

@oddsconvert

@andithewhumper

@yellowcatcallshome

Most of all, he was worried about how he looked to his staff. Well… who used to be his staff? Maybe? It was all very unclear.

Point is, all the people he used to boss around were now seeing him chained like a dog to a post. In a whore’s outfit to top it off. Hooray! It was Mutt’s fairytail!

He’d already struggled with keeping authority, only being eighteen and having no real power. This would definitely knock his street-cred down more than a few notches. 

He’d seen Rivia from afar, serving drinks and passing out tiny versions of food, because the smaller it is the fancier, Mutt guessed. 

He never understood that. If he was rich, he would have an entire feast all to himself with servings as big as they could be.

Tyus had stopped to talk to him a few times, mostly asking where he should stand and when. Stars, he was helpless unless you walked him through exactly what needed to be done, step-by-step. 

That was usually why Tyus was Mutt’s buddy. Mutt was pretty much the only one who was patient enough to deal with the constant questions. 

He didn’t mind. He honestly enjoyed Tyus being close by. He made Mutt feel safe. Even though Tyus was only a year older, rather lanky, and sweet as pie, he was tall enough that most people didn’t bother questioning Mutt’s authority when he was with him. 

Mutt stifled another yawn… not very convincingly, he’ll admit.

He wasn’t used to being up so late. Norrix always went to bed early, and obviously, Mutt always went to bed with him. 

It was already hours past Mutt’s bedtime, and the party seemingly was just getting started.  He had tried to nap a couple times, but Nash had caught him. He hadn’t hit him, but his scalp still hurt from the tight grip. For now though, the thunder outside was keeping him up.

Another voice yanked him from his thoughts. “Awh, are you tired already, boy?”

One of Nash’s childhood friends, Ivor.

In some other world, Ivor would be a bully at one of his family’s farms somewhere, but ever since Nash had found a fondness for him, he was a pain in the neck for servants everywhere.

“That collar is a fantastic look for you, Buddy.” Ivor mused. “I’ve missed you, you know. Since Nash will be helping his father, he’ll be busy. I’ll bet he’d need help caring for you.”

Like he’d ever ask you. Mutt thought, but what came out was much more acceptable as an answer.

“That’s very generous of you, sir.” He forced out, earning a pleased smile on Ivor’s face.

“It is, isn’t it?” He purred, one hand reaching up to ruffle Mutt’s hair. “We could go on nice long walks together, and I’ll be moving in, to help Nash out with some things, so, if he’s ever gone on a business trip, you can sleep in my room.”

A cold wave of dread washed over him. Not only did going on a walk, a public display, sound terrible, being anywhere near that guy while he was sleeping and unable to defend himself. Not that he could do much now. 

Before Mutt could force out another polite reply, Ivor stumbled forward abruptly. 

Mutt barely reared back in time to not be headbutted, which his swollen nose was grateful for, but the relief faded quickly when he noticed Ivor’s face was red with anger as he whirled around.

His hand lashed out, finding a home in the hair of the person who had run into him. And, that person was Tyus.

“Are you stupid!?” He demanded, nose to nose with Tyus, hand still tangled in his braids.

“No.” Tyus replied bluntly, fingers twitching on the sides of the tray he was carrying. “Are you?”

Mutt’s heart dropped. Tyus, you absolute buffoon.

Ivor’s face went beet red, and Mut could practically see smoke rising from his ears, but maybe that was just an illusion from his broken nose. Probably not, but Mutt loved to be petty.

Luckily enough, Nash noticed before Ivor got too… too Ivor, really. 

“Woah, woah, Ivor. Calm down.” He said, but his tone  was anything but agitated. “We have to be careful with the domestics. If you have frustrations, that’s what Mutt is for.”

Oh, how sweet of you. He thought to himself. Like you haven’t embarrassed me enough.

Ivor paused, clearly considering something as he pushed Tyus away from him. “Well, Mutt was just being incredibly disrespectful.”

If Mutt’s heart could’ve dropped any lower, it would’ve. 

“What?” He yelped, voice rising in panic as Nash’s head snapped to him, a dark look in his eye. “I–I wasn’t. I swear I wasn’t. Sir—Master—I-I was being good!”

Nash’s hand shot out, snatching him by the collar until Mutt could barely breath between his fingers and the cinched leather, but Nash simply turned back to Ivor.

“What was he doing, other than causing a scene just now?” He asked, voice deceptively calm.

“Well, we were having a conversation, and he didn’t respond to my last statement.” Ivor said smugly. 

Nash’s fingers twisted tighter in his collar, limiting his oxygen supply. He twisted on the pedestal, trying to wrench Nash off, but when he wasn’t budging, Mutt whined and just took what little air he could through his crushed windpipe.

Nash didn’t seem to care. “Really? I gave him specific orders not to speak to anyone, but then, he started a conversation, and ignored you?”

No! Mutt thought desperately. As much as he wanted to shriek that all of this was Tyus’ fault, that Nash wouldn’t even be over here if it weren’t for him, but even if he could speak, he knew he wouldn’t.

Saying something like that could get Tyus fired, and Tyus relied on the room and board that came with being a servant. He was only nineteen, he had hardly any money to his name, and he had no family he could stay with. Getting him fired was as good as killing him.

He didn’t exactly care about the rest of the conversation, he was more focused on breathing through the thin straw he was allowed, but he saw Tyus shuffling away with a guilty look in his eyes. His ears were ringing so badly he couldn’t hear anything anyway, and the edges of his vision were starting to go fuzzy.

He was vaguely aware of Nash unclipping him from his pedestal with his free hand before releasing his collar and wrapping his hands around the chain which had become Mutt’s leash.

Mutt was so distracted by gasping for a full gulp of air that he didn’t notice he was being dragged off the pedestal until he hit the marble stairs that led to it.

He couldn’t help the yelp that escaped him as his jaw cracked against the shinny floor.Nash didn’t slow for him either. He just kept going, dragging Mutt along.

At least the floors had just been cleaned and he wasn’t being dragged through dust. Though he was quite literally grasping at straws to find things to be grateful for.

The people around him were laughing at him, and it didn’t look like any of them had any sympathy. Mutt’s face heated with humiliation as he felt every onlooker’s eyes roving over him as they owned him as much as Nash did.

He managed to get up on his knees to save his stomach from scraping along the floor as Nash dragged him toward the door, but he didn’t bother trying to get up on his feet.

He quickly regretted that choice as he dragged him toward a door that led to the side yard. The yard that was mostly gravel. The side yard that had his cage in it.

It was storming. Thunder and lightning, close to hail, storming. He wouldn’t put Mutt outside in that, would he? No.

He’d been outside when it was storming before, but Norrix always brought him in when it started to thunder. Metal and lightning didn’t exactly go well together, after all.

That’s when Mutt decided to flip around and dig his heels into the floor.

“M-Master, you—you can’t put me outside in that!” He yelped. “My cage is metal! I-I could die!”

Nash did stop, but only to glare down at him. 

“Don’t be an idiot, Mutt. Metal doesn’t attract lightning. It only conducts well when it already gets struck.” He snapped, then knelt down to be on his level. “You have embarrassed me thoroughly tonight. The only reason you aren’t getting whipped is because I don’t want to send anyone else out in this mess.”

Mutt whined as thunder cracked above him yet again. He might’ve begged to be left alone, to stay inside where it was warm and dry, and not too loud, but he knew it was no good. 

At the moment, Nash simply seemed to be annoyed. The last thing he wanted was to send him spiralling into actual anger. Mutt didn’t want to know what that looked like for him.

“That’s what I thought.” He hissed as he stood up again, eyes scanning the corridor. 

Mutt eased himself back onto his knees, fighting the urge to stand. He’d stand when they started moving again. He wanted to be as small as possible right now. 

For his safety, and for Tyus’s. Though he wasn’t sure how much he could do for his friend now that he’d put a target on his back with Ivor.

“You!” He shouted, pointing to one of the bigger cooks who was obviously on a break at the moment. “Take Mutt outside to his cage.” 

“You want to put him outside in this weather?” Even that cook, Burtsie, who had never really cared what Mutt did or didn’t do, had a surprised expression on his face. “Half the staff are talking about staying here tonight so they don’t have to go outside, and you want to put him out there for who-knows-how-long?”

“Don’t question me!” Nash yelled. “You can have an extra long break to change your uniform, just get this ungrateful animal outside!”

Mutt shifted his eyes to the floor, but he could feel Burtsie’s eyes on him. He wanted to stop shaking, he was meant to be his boss, not the problem he was meant to drag around, but he couldn’t.

He hated the rain. He’d always hated when Norrix put him outside in the rain. It was worse than the dungeons and worse than the stocks. It was cold and miserable, and he hadn’t done anything wrong. 

It wasn’t fair! Why was his life never fair?

“Alright.” Burtsie murmured after a minute, but Mutt didn’t look up. He couldn’t. 

He heard the shuffle of feet, and the transfer of his chain from one hand to another followed by the jingle of keys transferring too. And out of the corner of his eye he saw Nash slip away, muttering about how his party was ruined.

He didn’t move until Burtsie gave the chain around his collar a light tug, then he carefully made his way to his feet and followed Burtsie to the door.

The clink of keys, a creaking of the door, three footsteps and he was out and into the rain. Immediately getting doused. 

It was like ice raining down on his skin, which, thanks to the flimsy outfit that was entirely doused within the two seconds he started to walk to his cage, was not covered at all.

The cage was large for a dog, but small for a human. Rusty and jagged and so uncomfortable. A small padlock hung from the door, promising to keep him locked in the rain for as long as Nash decided.

He sank to his knees in front of it when Burtsie opened the cage door, but he didn’t go in right away. He glanced up at the older cook, silently pleading for sympathy, for pity, for anything that meant he wouldn’t be left out there.

Something flashed in his eyes, but it was gone before Mutt could make out what it was. “Go on. I don’ wanna be out here.”

Mutt didn’t move yet, but he forced his head back to the cage and just stared. All he could think was that he was already cold. That he didn’t want to go in his cage. There was a strange feeling in his throat, but he couldn’t tell if it was nausea or the tears he was fighting back.

Then a hand came in contact with the back of his neck and pushed him forward. “Alright, boy, I’m gettin’ cold. In ya go.”

Mutt let out a wet gasp as he crawled into the cage and curled against the cold metal bars, rain still pouring in from the sky and soaking him ever further.

He watched Burtsie close the door and lock it before vanishing into the rain, his footsteps squelching in the soaked gravel.

That was it. No final look back of guilt. No murmured apologies. Nothing. Mutt was left there to rot, knowing nobody cared about him.

And out there, in the cold, shivering so hard the cage shook with him, flinching at every crack of thunder and light that flashed through the sky, all he could think about was if his parents left the same way.

He had been four when he’d started living with Norrix, so he didn’t quite remember. And oftentimes when he couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t help but wonder if they’d left like Burtsie had just now, or if they’d cried. If they’d hugged him and told him it’d be okay.

He wondered if he’d had siblings and just forgotten them. He wondered if his parents had forgotten about him. He wondered if they ever planned on coming back for him, or if they had tried but Norrix had denied them. He wondered if they’d ever written. Not that Mutt had ever gotten any letters, and even if he had he wouldn’t have been able to read them, but did they try at least?

But most of all, he wondered why. Why had they given him up? Was he too much of a problem? Could they not afford him? Did they just not love him enough? What had he done so wrong in his four years of life to make him deserve this?

He didn’t think he’d ever know, and now, he was starting to forget why he cared so much. From the looks of things, he was going to die here. Probably sooner rather than later. 

But he did care. He wanted to know. He wanted to go home. Wherever that was. He just knew it wasn’t here. He had a place before Norrix bought him. He had a name that wasn’t ‘Mutt.’ 

He just needed to find it.

~Taglist~

@oddsconvert

@andithewhumper