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Meine is admiring the colors of the tents when Noah calls him.

“Meine”, he says, voice mixing with the loud music and feisty atmosphere of the fair. Meine loves it. So many pretty colors, different smells, happy chatting around him--

His father rested a hand on his shoulder to catch his attention and Meine flinched. “Yes, father?”

“Do you remember why are we here?” He asks.

Meine looks at the colors that warm him up inside. He nods.

His father raises an eyebrow, as if saying, what did I say about not answering me properly?

“I do”, he answered, before Father prompted him again.

“Good”, he smiled. “Don’t distract yourself.”

Meine bit a lip. “Yes, father.”

He just followed him around, passing through all the people that were enjoying the fair. 

He had a job. He was here to help Father.

He had to wear a turtleneck and a brown tuxedo. Noah didn’t want him looking bad when they went out. Father had a white button-up and a long suit. Sometimes, like this, Meine could understand why people thought they looked alike. Even their suits were the same color.

Noah stopped sometimes to observe a tent or a group of people, but Meine knew he didnt’t actually care.

He was only here for the stones.

Meine avoided trying to locate them just yet, because his eyes were a bit tired and he wanted to use his powers only when he was needed.

He stopped when Noah pulled his arm and looked amused at one of the tents.

It was a large one, with lots of shiny rocks and precious gems carefully displayed over wooden shelves and a table with white cloth. Meine thought it was pretty. The table was in the shape of an L, and the tent was one of those that had a tarp on top of it and hanging down to make a wall-kind of thing on the back. There was a tall woman built like a wall behind one of the tables.

Meine glanced at the prices.

They were pretty low for what they were looking for.

Father smiled to himself and whispered on his ear to start looking.

Meine was quick to obey.

While Father chatted with the owner, Meine looked fot the hecatites. He tried to remember the market rules for them. If the seller wasn’t completely sure that their rocks were actual hecatites they were obliged by law to lower their prices. The process to test them would usually be super expensive, but Meine could see their power and find them easily.

“Curious one, aren’t you?” The woman said softy, and after an embarrassing second, Meine noticed it was aimed at him.

“He likes hecatites” Noah answered, sparing him from having to answer.

“I think we should take these, father”, Meine spoke up, pointing at some rocks that had a specially reddish aura. These were the hardest ones to find, and looking for them this way, only taking home the ones they needed was way better than importing tons and tons and having Meine identify each one, just to discard the ones they didn’t have use for. 

Or at least it was what father told him.

“Are you sure?” Father asked.

Meine double checked just in case, but he was sure. Father told him the auras were more difficult to identify in open spaces like these so he’d have a wider error range, but he wanted to be sure he wouldn’t fail.

Noah then smiled at him, approving, and Meine could feel himself smiling as Father finished the bought and payed the owner.

That was not the last tent they visited. They spent the whole day like that, until twillight painted the sky red and the tents started lighting up ilumination for the night turn.

“Oh, one more thing,” Noah says when they’re entering the limousine.

Meine looked up at him.

“Before going home, we’ve got one more person to visit”, he smiled. “You will evaluate them.”

Meine supressed a sigh. He was somewhat tired, and was hoping they could go home already.

“You’re grounded.”

Meine tensed up slighty but ignored him, the white noise of the TV show playing on the background.

His father took the control off his hands and then Meine knew he was in serious trouble.

“Why?” He mumbled. He gripped tighter on the pencil he had on the other hand, avoiding eye contact.

Noah looked up and down at him in a way that sent chills down his spine. “I think you know exactly why, Meine.”

He looked down. It wasn’t fair. He was tired and wanted a break. The first time he said that, Father slapped him on the cheek. Meine hated it when he did it. But he was exhausted. It wasn’t easy to train his powers and keep going down on the white floors everyday to identify stupid stones. And read books. And listen to Father’s assistants talking. He did want to help his father, but it was so hard. He had to learn so many stuff first, and learning wasn’t easy. He was tired and wanted a break. And all Meine did this time was leaving his room a little messy.

“Up, now.” Meine flinched with the tone. “Meine.”

Meine held onto the blue pencil but got up. Noah sighed. “Meine”, he said with a gentler tone. “What did I told you about leaving things like that?”

Meine didn’t say anything. Noah’s voice got a little more agressive. “Meine. You are not colaborating. You know that I need you to behave and do as you’re told. I won’t have a thankless brat as my child, your hear me?”

Meine didn’t look up. “Yes, father.”

Noah shook his head and said, “follow me.” When Meine hesited, he grabbed his son by his hand and walked him through the corridors. They proceeded in silence, Meine’s heart pounding inside his chest. He was in trouble. He should have done what his father wanted. He would be hurt. He should have cleaned his room. Where were they going? Meine couldn’t remember where were they going. He wouldn’t need to remember if he just did what he was supposed to do. He…

Eventually, the walls got lighter and flawlessier. They had reached the inferior floors. Meine knew what his father guaded down there. The walls were way too shiny and the floor was way too white. The lights were too bright and and he hated it down there. It was were he trained and helped Father. It was were Noah kept his research labs and hecatite stones for him to identify. The doors were either transparent and made of thin glass or white and misterious.

That’s were his father was leading him. A corridor full of white doors. Meine felt nauseous. Noah looked down at him and opened the door, revealing a white room that was way too blank for his liking, with almost nothing on it but a matress near the wall and a small bank, all looking like it was dyed on the exact same tone of white. Meine knew his father liked white but this seemed way too much.

“You are going to stay here.” He said. Meine looked up at him in panic.

“W-what?”

“You heard me.” He took Meine into the room. “Stay here and think on what you did. That is your punishment.”

“I don’t--it’s not fair!”

“What isn’t fair, is that I have to keep up with your shit, when you won’t even obey me.”

“But I-”

“No but’s, Meine. You know if you did as you were told you wouldn’t be here.”

“I’m-I’m sorry--”

“Good. Now be a good boy and take your punishment.”

Noah started leaving.

“Father! How-how long will you--”

“You will stay here until I make up my mind, Meine.”

No, no, no. But what would he eat? He wanted to sleep. He couldn’t--he didn’t want to.

“F-father, please”, he sobbed. “Don’t leave me here.”

Noah sighed and approached him.

“Meine.” He said softly, and caressed his cheek. Meine flinched, and continued sobbing. “You know, it may not seem so, but you’ll understand it when you’re older. I’m doing it for both your own good and mine. We can’t keep going like this, can we?” Meine shook his head. “I know you’re sorry, and that is very good, but you did a bad thing and now you have to face the consequences.”

After looking at him one more, he left, and Meine tried to stop crying. When he heard the loud crack of the door locking, he curled around himself, and this room--why--unlike the others, didn’t have lights. It didn’t have windows. It didn’t have anything. It didn’t have a single person.

He was alone there. The only living breathing thing on the room. He inhaled sharply and gripped the pencil stronger.

What probably wasn’t long after, Luna found him with knees raised up to his chest, sitting on his mattress with his back leaning on the wall.

“Kai?” She called, worry lacing her voice. “Are you good? Your girlfriend’s here to pick you up.”

He groaned.

“I’m okay,” he answered. “Gonna come down in a bit.”

She looked at him a bit weird but left his room with a shrug.

Kaiki cupped his face on his hands. He was fine. The dread on his chest didn’t seem to agree but he was. It was probably some nervousness because he hadn’t met Mali’s friends yet nor did he know what they were like or if they were all touchy like her or what they liked to talk about and they were all going to watch some movie he didn’t know if he was gonna like. Not the ideal date, but it wouldn’t be so bad. Probably. Either way, it was normal to be a little anxious. Kaiki lowered his hands and gave a deep sigh. Mali didn’t like to be kept waiting.

He took a quick trip to the bathroom and checked on his appearance. He’d gotten dressed an hour ago just to be sure he wouldn’t be late, so he just checked his look one last time and poured some water on his face. But his hair wasn’t... very right. He grabbed a hair band that was thrown on his desk and tied it in a ponytail. He evaluated his face in the mirror, dark eyes looking back at him. There. Much better.

Kaiki walked down the stairs to find Mali leaning against the doorframe, checking on her phone. He glanced down to the kitchen. Stella was eating some crackers while scribbling something on what he hoped was not the table and his aunt was working on something on her laptop.

“Oh, you’re here!” Mali greeted him, putting away the phone on her purse. Her hair was tied neatly into a loose bun with some strands falling in front of her face and she was wearing all black. Kaiki gave her an awkward smile. “Ju and Laura are already there. Let’s go.”

He nodded.

“Bye, auntie! We’re gonna get going. Sleep well, Ste.”

He heard her scoffing, the red crayon in hand.

“That’s not fair. Why do you get to watch a movie with your friends and I have to sleep early today?”

“Once you’re older and responsible you can, sweetie,” aunt Alice cut in, grabbing a cracker from the jar she was guarding. “You have to sleep if you want to grow up tall and healthy, you know?”

She rolled her eyes.

Kaiki muffled a giggle.

“See you later, ms. Alice!” Mali grabbed Kaiki’s arm and led him outside. He rushed behind her.

“I want you home before ten!”

“Yes, auntie!” He yelled back.

“Oh, wait.” Mali stopped when they reached the sidewalk, a grey siena waiting for them. She must’ve called an Uber.

Mali reached her hands behind his neck, making him lock in place, a chill going down his spine. He kept still and closed his eyes shut by instinct. Thick locks of straight hair falled down his shoulders.

She stepped back.

“There. Much better. You should wear your hair loose more often, hun.”

“Okay.” He bit back a protest. “Can you give me the band, though?”

“Nah,” she put it around her wrist, not looking at him. “When we get home I give it back to you. Why, don’t you trust me?”

“‘Course I do,” he mumbled. That got a smile out of Mali in return.

When Mali reached out for his hand in the theater, Kaiki drew it away.

Not his brightest moment.

She looked annoyed at him. Kaiki swallowed the ick on his throat and held her hand. Come on, Kai. This is what boyfriends do.

Mali curled her fingers around his much tighter than he’d have wanted.

“I really don’t understand this,” Julia, one of Mali’s friends, said out of a sudden. She was holding a popcorn cup and sharing it with Laura, the other one. “These guys are so stupid. They should kiss already.”

Mali giggled and put her head on his shoulder. She glued her lips in there and left a kiss. Kaiki repressed a shudder. It sent an unpleasant chill down his spine. He looked away.

And then, they started kissing on screen. It was very wet and hushed and the man put his hands on the woman’s face, preventing her from turning away, and she planted her fingers on his back under his shirt and scratched. Kaiki put a hand on his neck, biting his lips. The ghost of a hand traced down his body, all the way down to his belly. He moved his hand away from Mali’s.

Thankfully, she didn’t notice.

“I always wondered how it’d be to kiss a boy, you know,” Laura said as soon as they got out of the theater. Kaiki hadn’t spoken a word since then, hands in his pockets. He didn’t really feel like hanging out anymore.

“Aren’t you dating that guy that lives two houses away from you, though?”

Laura sighed.

“We’re not exactly dating. He asked me to give him some ‘time’.” Laura made quotes in the air. “Although it’s been like, weeks.”

“I know how that is,” Mali cut in. She didn’t look at Kaiki, but he tensed up a bit. “Some people really like to keep you waiting. But sometimes it’s worth it, I guess.”

“Hm,” Laura huffed, scrolling down her phone. Her father was coming to pick her up, so they were all waiting by the parking lot until he did. It had been dark outside for a while, so he was gonna give them a ride. Although Kaiki kind of just wanted to go walking at this point.

“It can’t be that different, though,” Julia wondered out loud.

“What?”

“Kissing boys, I mean.”

Laura rolled her eyes.

“Not like you would know.”

“Well, you don’t, either,” she mocked.

Kaiki watched them snickering at each other, sitting down on the asphalt. He kind of wanted to go to the bathroom. But he wasn’t passing very well so he’d rather wait until home. It was getting cold.

“Yo, Mali, I think your boy-girlfriend is gonna freeze in there,” Julia said. “Shouldn’t you give him your jacket or something?”

Kaiki ignored the fact that she’d called him a girl. Mali rolled her eyes.

“She’s not a baby, girls. Kai didn’t bring in a jacket because he didn’t want to. We’re already leaving, anyway.”

“Damn, I wouldn’t want you as a girlfriend,” Laura chuckled. Kaiki sighed. He could jump in and defend her, but he was feeling a little nauseous. He wanted to go home.

“I could be a better girlfriend, y’know,” she joked. “It’d help me practice for when my prince charming finally decides to answer the call.”

“Oh, you wanna try?” Mali asked. “I’m not against it,” she said, sounding the exact opposite of against it. “Friends share.”

“Maria, you gotta stop talking about him as if he was your toy!”

Mali shrugged.

“Hey, Kaiki, can I kiss you?”

He shot a glare at Laura. She didn’t look like she was kidding anymore. Coily short hair framed her face, curls carefully combed, as her eyes pierced through him.

“Sorry?”

“Well, I don’t mind,” Mali said, sitting on the ground near Kai. “You can go on if you want.”

“I don’t think I’m in the mood.”

“Come on, Kai, man up!” She complained. “It’s just an itty bitty smooch. It’s not like you’ll be tangling tongues with each other, entangled into a warm embrace as the moon watches you make love,” Mali theatrically hugged herself, making her friends laugh. Her descriptions grossed him out. “Like that movie, for example,” she teased.

“Here,” Laura said, in between laughter. She walked towards Kaiki, offering him a hand up. He didn’t take it. “Don’t be like that, goldilocks. I just wanna help you up. My dad’s coming.”

Kaiki hesitantly supported his hands on hers. Laura smiled and held them on her own as she closed her eyes, leaned forward, and pressed her lips on his.

He whimpered, surprised, and squirmed away.

Laura laughed.

“Don’t be that scared, dude.”

“I’m not scared,” Kaiki replied, backing up against the wall and hugging his arms. “I just don’t want to.”

“So? How is it?” Julia chimed in. Laura seemed to think for a second. A breeze hit Kaiki and made him quiver.

“Not bad,” she concluded, at last. “But it was too short, I’d have to try again to be sure.”

Julia looked up at Kaiki.

His stomach dropped.

“Kai, stop making such a fuss. Are you saying she’s that bad?” Mali scolded from under him, watching something on her phone. “Laura just wants to know what it’s like to kiss a boy.” His mouth filled with dread. He knew what she was gonna say next. “Unless, of course, you ain’t nearly as half as a boy as you’ve been acting to be. Don’t be a pussy.”

He bit his lip, looking away.

Before he knew it, Laura was in front of him again.

“I promise I’m not that bad,” she giggled, cupping his face in her hands. Breath warm against him—too close. He held himself tighter.

She touched her nose with his.

From here, he could see her eyes weren’t black like he’d thought. They were of a more auburn hue, the kind you could see the pupils in even if it wasn’t particularly sunny. He smelled citric cologne from her. The glittery eyeshadow on her lids glistered when she pulled him into another kiss.

Kaiki wanted to puke.

She tangled her hands on his hair, wet mouth touching his. He closed his eyes, bracing himself. Laura lowered her hands behind his head, absorted. She moaned against his mouth, like the romantic lead in the film they watched.

He pulled away.

Laura opened her eyes, blinking.

“Now that it’s getting good? Really?” She said, disappointed.

He looked away.

“Your dad should be coming any minute now,” he mumbled, in a way of explanation. Kaiki couldn’t stand touching her any more. Laura’s hands still hadn’t left his neck.

“Well, Mali’s boy is kinda right,” Julia intervened, holding Laura’s phone. She was blocking the audio mic, the screen a few inches away from her face as if she’d been attending a call. “Uncle is already in the next street. He told us to get near the Gucci entrance so he can see where we are.”

Laura stepped back, dropping her hands from Kai—he let out a sigh of relief—to see the facade of the nearest store.

“Well. We’re already at Gucci’s,” she noted. “Damn it, we should’ve asked him to come over later.”

Mali laughed.

“You should just get yourself a boyfriend of your own, Laura. Or a girlfriend.”

Laura huffed and crossed her arms.

“Just because my last one broke up with me you can’t keep mocking me like that, O Mighty Heart Breaker.”

That also got a laugh out of Mali. Kaiki crouched down next to her. He reached out to her.

“Mali, can you give me my phone? I want to tell my aunt we’re coming.”

“I can do that for you,” she dismissed. He dropped his arms. Kaiki didn’t mind arguing. He got up. She’d taken it to see the time—despiste having her own in her purse, which was two seats away in Julia’s lap—back at the beginning of the movie and hadn’t given it to him yet. He walked away from the group with the excuse of seeing the car arrive.

Despiste the hot feeling of hands on his skin just a few moments before, Kaiki still felt cold.

He sat on the opposite seat to Laura on the way back home.

“Coming!” Luna yelled when Kaiki knocked on the door. Laura was waiting with her dad in the car, Julia being the first they dropped at her place. Mali had gotten out with him to greet his sister.

But the one who opened up wasn’t Luna.

It was Tatiana.

Mali tensed up a little, with an awkward smile on her face. Tati didn’t like her, which was kinda funny. And despite being the sweetest person Kaiki knew, his oldest sister had quite the scowl and she easily towered over them both.

“Hi, Tatiana,” Mali greeted, a bit nervous. “We got your si—your brother sound and safe.”

“I see,” she looked over their shoulders, without much effort. Laura waved at her from the backseat. She didn’t wave back. “You got all your stuff, Kai? You sure you didn’t forget anything in the car?”

“Yeah, I—” he interrupted himself, suddenly remembering. His phone and his hair band were still with Mali.

“Oh!” Mali smacked her forehead. “I almost forgot. Here, princess.” She took the band from her purse—Kaiki hadn’t noticed when she put it there—and handed him his phone as well, the purple case covered by little stickers. The ones she’d put there. “To brighten that ugly color a little,” she’d said.

“Thanks.” He turned to get inside.

Mali grabbed his hand before he could.

“Come on, how about my goodbye kiss?”

The nausea came back in full force, swallowing him whole.

Mali frowned.

“You ain’t upset because of before, are you? She was just using you as practice. It wasn’t serious.”

He looked away.

She didn’t let go.

Trembling, Kaiki turned. He walked down the front step and took the stray curls of her wair out of the way to smooch her forehead.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when it seemed enough for her. She opened up a smile.

“Goodbye!” She loosened her grip on his fingers. “It was a great time, hun. See ya later!”

Mali got in the car, playfully telling him to be careful so the bugs wouldn’t bite his feet. Kaiki waited for it to leave to close the door shut behind him. Tatiana had already gone inside.

He leaned against it and fell to the floor.

He hid his face on his knees.

He needed to take a bath.

Phew! This took me like all day. Next time let's try and make something... shorter. I was planning on doing something quite violent with Dimitri and Nosac instead, but then this idea popped into my head and I was like "I GOTTA do this one" so here it is!

Calm down, Espa, they tried telling themself, but that did not stand up much of a chance against the panicked memories—the whip. The cane. The collar—inside her head right now. They tried calming down their raced heartbeat. To no use. She had fucked up royally this time. Ann was going to be so pissed. What was it thinking to act like it was a good idea to sneak out of the quarters—and for what? Bandaging up injuries from the punishment it got itself for putting off duties? Like they weren’t gonna take care of her back at the quarters? Ungrateful, ungrateful brat—to go to Ciça’s?

They breathed in. It’s okay. They exhaled. You got this, Espa. They breathed in. And breathed out again.

Okay. Okay. It had been bad. It knew that much. Ann would not be happy to know about that. But did she really need to—no. It cut the thought short.

They looked down to their bandaged hands, raising them in front of their cape, carefully wrapped in. Ciça had been so gentle and tolerant with it. They could see she had been incredibly groggy, scrubbing her eyes every few minutes trying to scare the sleepiness away. Well, it had been the middle of the night. An old woman such as herself would probably have already gone to sleep at that hour. For some miracle, she had not. And not only that. She had indulged in Espa’s senseless demands. She hasn’t been mad at Espa for coming unnanounced or scaring her out—making her almost drop her book out of shock—even though she had every right to.

They clutched their hand to their chest. It hurt a little. But she didn’t mind. It helped clearing its mind a little bit.

If it told Ann it had been sneaking out to see Ciça, it would not be allowed to see her anymore. And Espa knew it was selfish, and bad, and ungrateful, and insensitive to, but they didn’t want that. They bit their lip. It was probably better for everyone if it would just stop sneaking out. They would stop being such a hassle for the Ms. Ciça. They would not be breaking the rules anymore. And Ann would never know a thing.

But Ciça was so gentle. Espa—Espa liked her.

Which wasn’t very clever of them. They couldn’t—they couldn’t betray their family like that. They cared for it so much and it would lie to them and hide secrets and ignore the rules that kept everyone well and safe—its siblings would not have done that. Not the good ones—They winced at the image their mind conjured up of a time back when it used to break the rules just because, having been beated to an inch of their life. But not anymore. Now, they knew there was nothing bad or scary to fight, because their family cared for them. Now it wanted to be good. She knew better. She wouldn’t do things that would make her family—and her handler—feel hurt. Not anymore.

The sky was starting to light up, fresh morning air invading their nostrils, warm sunlight starting to clean the darkness out of the houses nearby.

Espa stopped in front of one—129B—and entered it by the back door.

---

“Where were you?” Ann inquired it, as soon as it got in. She had her arms crossed. Her brows were furrowed. Her eyes—dark daggers piercing her right in place. Espa supressed a flinch. Ann could snap at any moment. It would depend on their answer.

“Obserbing the sun rise.” Technically not a lie. “I strayed a bit into the eastside because the gardens in there looked prettier in the moonlight.” No use saying they had been nearby—if Ann had been patrolling around she would have known that was not the case. “I’m sorry.” It added, just for good measure.

Ann sighed and uncrossed her arms, massaging her temple. Espa’s shoulders relaxed just a little.

“Damn it.” She said, voice rough. Was it from lack of water? Maybe tiredness? Espa couldn’t know. It hadn’t been around to tell. “Espada, you need to stop doing that. Focus on the mission, you,” she gave an accusing glare, clearly pissed. “I thought it was some sort of intruder. You are still gonna give me a headache one of these days.”

A bit of guilt dwelled on Espa’s chest.

“Yes, Ms. Ann. I’m sorry.” It said. “I will do better.” She meant it when she said the last part.

Which is why she kept her mouth shut. Telling Ms Ann the real reason it had been out and about at that hour would only make her even more stressed. She didn’t need to know. Yes, it was doing a good thing by shutting up. Besides, Ciça seemed to like their company. Stopping to appear by would only make them worried as well. It just needed to stop appearing in the middle of the night to cause her trouble. Ann gestured at them to follow into her office, still stroking her brow. She could do it. It could do better.

It was okay.

It was okay.

Again, Ciça nearly fell off her chair with the noise. For the Lord, who—

Oh. She gave a faint and wobbly smile. It was Espa, standing near her like an ominous shadow, her coily dark hair barely making a sillouette in the dark. Jesus Christ, how did the girl even sneak into her house? No, no, wait, that wasn’t even the question. Why was she here? Did she not have school tomorrow? It was past midnight.

“Espa,” a shaky breath left her lips. God, she was getting old. That kid’s shenigans were probably gonna give her a heart attack at some point. “What are you doing here this late? You shouldn’t just go out in the middle of the night like this, it is dangerous,” she said. “Besides that, why—”

She stopped in her tracks when she took sight of the blood dripping from Espa’s hands, tucked protectively over her heart. The kid had a grimace on her face, like she was about to cry.

“Oh, no,” she put away her book, not bothering to mark the page she left in. “Dear, Esa, what happened?”

Espa took a short, shaky breath and looked away from her. “My hands. I got them like this. Can I patch them up here?”

But how? Ciça wanted to ask. She couldn’t see it much from there, but they looked awful. When did that happen? Was it some sort of accident? Why did Espa come all the way over here instead of taking care of it at home? Unless—

“Here”, she took the kid’s hands into hers, as gently as she could. “Let’s go take care of those in the bathroom, okay? I will grab some neomycin and gauze and be right back, sounds good?”

“Yes, Ciça.” Espa answered. Her voice tone was a little off. She must be in quite the pain right now. Jesus, Ciça thought. How could...? She wavered the thought out of her head. First-aid. Where was it, again?

God damn it, she really should start setting up everything for emergencies like this in easier places.

--

She set a little stool she usually used for reaching high shelves over the bathroom tiles and sat Espa on it. The light was on, now, allowing Ciça to take a better look at the girl’s injuries.

Espa held them out over the sink, where they washed most of the blood. It must’ve stinged a little, but she didn’t even wince. Ciça applied some pomade on her skinned knuckles and palms—she cringed herself at the thought of what could have possibly caused this. A belt?—and started bandaging up her hands.

“When did they got hurt?” She asked. Hopefully it hasn’t been for long, but either way, the old pomade for infections and cuts, that luckly was not expired, would do its job.

“Around two hours before I got in your house.” She seemed to sense Ciça’s wide-eyed shock, quickly adding: “It hurt so I had to lay down first. Sorry.”

“No, no, I’m not mad at you!” Ciça hushed to say, maybe a bit too loud. “It’s fine, you are here, and your hands are bandaged now. See?” She let off Espa’s fingers and admired her work. “Is it uncomfortable? Is the pain wearing off at all?”

“A little. Not as bad as it was before,” she said in a tiny voice. “Thank you, Ciça.”

She smiled.

“You’re welcome. Do you want to stay the night in here? Would it be safe for you?”

“I will head back,” Espa answered, after a small pause. “I’m expected at five tomorrow.” Ciça nodded, a little bit of dread on her gut. Five? She would barely get a four hour’s sleep at this rate.

“I see. Well,” Ciça got up and picked up the supplies from the balcony to get them back to the little white box. Which she would probably put in the laundry room from now on, instead of tangled up with tool boxes and old fabric on the spare closet. “Could I make you some tea, then? It won’t last long. To help you fall asleep.”

Espa’s eyes opened a bit wide at that. Her shoulders relaxed, and she took a bit to answer.

“I would like that. Thank you, Ciça.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll stop.” He raised his arms in defeat, sighing. Sabre was usually a little more patient and docile than this. The boy had earned himself a few lashes. Juste had been trying to sugarcoat it, since he was having it rough, but Sabre easily catched on him. He had that “get it over with already”  look he had when he got himself in trouble, and Juste had to do his part and be stern. Was he not, Xander and Ann would probably pair up to make fun of him forever.

And Sabre had fucked up pretty badly this time. Which was a bit odd for him, to be honest. But that wouldn’t give him a pass. He had to face consequences for his actions.

After all, he’d tried firing his own gun at him.

“Okay” Juste said, giving in. “Let’s get this done, then!” He slapped his thighs and got up from the sofa, passing through the clouded amount of sunlight peeking through the glass window to open the door. He looked over at Sabre, kinda asking if he wanted help, but he ignored Juste and clumsily got himself up, managing not to trip over his own feet to follow him downstairs. Juste raised his eyebrows, impressed. Sure, it wasn’t like Sabre had been that sick, but he was also probably a little weak from having been deprived of his lunch. A small part of the punishment that was to come from his little outburst yesterday.

When they got in the basement, Sabre, holding his whimpers inside (although not managing very well), leaned against the cold stone wall. He must be feeling really hot. Sabre had gotten himself a little infection (also after defying orders and hiding on his quarters instead of presenting up to have his cuts treated), and it should go away after he was given his meds, but that alone wasn’t enough of a lesson for his misbehaving.

Juste stumbled around for a bit on the closets—they were settled on a little house management had arranged for them, near the main quarters, and he wasn’t used to the way the servants here arranged the stuff. He opened a few drawers, finding pokers (oh, he should use those anytime), a few keys (unlabelled. Of course. His eye twitched), and a bit of... what he hoped was for self-pleasure purposes? Ew. He tossed them away.

After a while, Sabre seemed to be fed up of standing on his feet just watching Juste miserably search through the amount of messy junk, and walked towards him, shoving a few doors open and quickly finding the whip. There were a few, actually, and his fingers hesitated for a second before picking up the plainest one.

Wow, okay, that was fast. Juste didn’t wallow on the unfairness of karma for long before Sabre handed the tool to him, annoyed, and supporting himself on the wooden desk.

He was keeping his lips closed tight.

Juste picked the whip from his hands.

“Really? You think you are going to get a pass off the thorns just ‘coz you’ve gotten yourself sick?” He joked.

Sabre tried to hide a weak flinch, but Juste caught it up. He laughed.

“I’m kidding. I want you back on your feet soon, silly” He pinched his cheek fondly and Sabre squirmed away.

“Mr. Juste, please do not.” His hand trembled as he got off his support to the middle of the room. “Just get this over with. I’m tired and want to sleep.”

Juste bit back a response, and reached out to him. “Here”, he offered. “Let me help.”

Sabre must be really a bit tired, because Juste just needed to put his hand over his chest and he immediately leaned onto the help. He probably didn’t even notice it.

He was going to offer to help take the shirt off, too, but Sabre was already undressing, yanking it out over his head, not even trying to open the buttons. Whoa, okay, then. Juste looked down to his scarred back, turned to him and kneeling on the floor, and weighted the new whip on his hands.

“Let’s see. I’d usually give you a ten? But since you obviously regret what you did,” he didn’t miss the little twitch on Sabre’s arms, as if itching to disagree. Okay, he was gonna pretend he didn’t see that. Ouch. “And you’re also not in your best shape, let’s do just five—no, three; what do you think?”

Sabre nodded.

“Okay”, Juste crouched down and gave a little squeeze on Sabre’s shoulder, making him tense up. He got up and took a breath, raising his arm up.

He hit.

--

Sabre’s head was pounding. Waves of pain pulsed from inside out and he could barely think, lest stand up on his own. He wasn’t even sure how he’d managed to come all the way down the stairs, feeling so wobbly he could easily fall down at any minute. He curled his fists tighter on top of his legs. They wouldn’t stop trembling from the chills.

And yet—and yet, he’d earned himself “three” lashes. (They were ten, actually, but he wasn’t gonna complain) Why had he done that? Just because Espa had—had fled away? Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. Ran off and left him? He hadn’t wanted to believe, at first. She was his favorite sibling. She was one of the few that could keep up with him. She was always well-behaved, and all the handlers liked her. She would never do something as reckless and stupid and selfish as that.

But she did. Unless that was some filthy lie he was being told to cover up that she was maybe dead. A bitter laugh almost left his lips before he caught it. He breathed in deep.

Juste gave his shoulder a little squeeze, out of nowhere and catching him by surprise. He grit his teeth. Sabre hated being sick. He could never see anything coming and he was weak, and pathetic, and useless, and everything hurt more, and he’d always slip up, and do something he’d regret, and be mouthy, and—

Breathe. He told himself. As he made himself inhale and exhale, shakily, the whip came down on his back.

He did not scream.

A gasp made its way out of his mouth, and he tried to force his vision to focus and his breathing to even up. Sabre curled up on himself. He would take it. It was okay. Breathe in. Breathe out. Sabre shakily straightened his posture.

The whip didn’t waste another second and beat him again. A tight whimper came out of his mouth. His chest wavered, and he clenched his fists. He had almost bitten his tongue. God, the fever was making him clumsy. He closed his mouth with care so he wouldn’t hurt himself on accident. It was just one more. That was actually pretty light. Sometimes Juste was indeed kind of nice. If it was with someone else, like Mr. X, he’d already be bleeding on the floor, without even strength to kneel.

Juste hit again.

His vision spun. He screamed just a bit.

Sabre let himself fall on the floor, his back on fire. Hotter than the rest of his body was. He didn’t even notice the headache anymore. It stung and hurt like a bitch, but it was okay. He was okay. It was done now at lea—

Crack.

He screamed for real this time.

F-four? Couldn’t be. Unless Juste was messing with him. Or he counted wrong, his stupid brain trying to make him feel some relief in spite of reality. He hadn’t prepared himself. He tasted blood on his mouth. Shit. His eyes ached, and he didn’t know if the wet and sticky feeling on his back was sweat or blood. His chest shakily went up and down as he stretched his palms on the floor, trying to work himself up.

Crack.

Sabre’s vision went white. No—it couldn’t. Juste could only be messing with him. But now it had been five. He was probably done now, and had done that just to teach him a lesson. He couldn’t stop shaking, but he tried getting up again. Maybe Juste would help him get up? He was a little weaker than he anticipated.

“That was three.” He heard the low voice coming from behind him.

That was what? Sabre shot a glance over his shoulder. Juste was standing over with the handle of the whip on one hand, the other one resting against his waist. Sabre’s neck hurt from turning like this. Sweat dripped down his brow. The whip rested still as a predatory snake hanging from his hand, Juste’s face expectant.

He crouched down. Fine. So be it. That couldn’t have actually been three. He was definitely trying to mess with him.

“Sorry, Sabre,” he admitted. “I do indeed have to give you more than three. I can’t go easy on you, y’know? You won’t learn if I do; it’s for both our goods.”

If he had the strength to, he’d roll his eyes.

Sabre looked forward and closed his mouth, shadows wavering in front of his eyes.

Wait. But it had been five already, hadn’t it...?

Crack.

This time, Sabre’s back arched, a strangled scream coming out of his throat before he could stop it. He was panting hard by the time his mind cleared enough to see where his hands were. The air coming in and out of his lungs didn’t offer much relief. It was too hot.

He tried looking back at Juste again, but he winced and closed his eyes shut. Pain flared through his muscles. 

“Four,” he heard Juste count behind him. His mind was too sluggish to know if that was true or what. How many were still left...?

Juste’s hand was not light when the whip cracked against his back again, not one, but two times. Three? He couldn’t keep track anymore. He was sure his handler had counted four just a few ago, but he didn’t know for how far he intended on keeping going.

The sting took a little longer to leave his back than the whip did. His vision took even longer to come back. He did not know how many lashes were left. He should keep himself still, kneeling, but he couldn’t—he panted—he just wanted to lay down. Please be done already. Please.

“That was six.” Juste said from over him. Sabre didn’t have the strength or the willingness to send a glare his way. Six? That had been double what he’d said. His face burnt, more with shame than with fever this time. Of course, he thought, frustrated. Mr. Juste didn’t need to be honest with him. He bit his lip.

Juste kneeled down on his side and brushed a wet strand of hair from his face.

“There. Just six. It won’t be any more, okay? That was it. You did good,” he smiled. “We can go back up now.”

He was probably waiting for an answer. Sabre opened his mouth a bit, turning his head to the side to face him, but all that left his throat was a hoarse croak. (Fuck, had he really screamed that much? He was such a pussy when he was sick). Juste smiled encouragingly. That made Sabre even more irritated. He felt his eyes getting wet from irritation.

“Yes, sir.” He managed to make out, weakly, making his throat hurt. Juste giggled.

“There, Sabre,” he put his arms under Sabre’s, supporting his legs up and carrying him bridal. “You did good. Let’s treat those before you get yourself another infection, hm?”

“‘M—I’m sorry.” He whined, closing his eyes. His back burned, his head hurt, and he felt nauseous and hot and cold at the same time. All because he’d been too stubborn to just be smart and do as he was told. He was so glad they were done. God, he hated being sick.

“I know,” Juste smiled.

As Juste lifted him up the stairs onto the bathroom after cleaning up his back—and palms, which he apparently dug his nails into at some point—, Sabre was one step away from fainting from both tiredness and pain. But he kept awake. He was carried into the bathroom, and Juste was humming some stupid and ugly song as he grabbed the gauze and cleaning stuff he’d use for his lashes.

His six. Six lashes. That had not been three. He groaned.

“Huh?” Juste turned to him at the sound. Sabre flinched. But he wasn’t mad. He was just curious. Oh. He held on his hand a piece of soft and white...something. He could barely see.

Sabre pressed his head to the cold tile wall.

“Please, stop lying, mr. Juste.”

Juste seemed caught by surprise, and then chuckled.

“Of course, Sabre.” He petted his hair, which was not very comfortable for Sabre. Now that his back wasn’t gnawing at him anymore, his headache had come back. He winced, but didn’t have the strength to turn away. “You’re my favorite, after all.”

--

Also unrelated but I was listening to this song on loop while I was writing this: