#So like it could also just be one neuro spicy person to another

[academy13]

Apparently, my night was going to consist of a drunk AF guy thinking I was on a date and causing me to wonder if that actually sort of did happen because I'm queer AF, have zero ability to tell if someone's into me, and am some flavor of neuro spicy. We'll see how this goes I guess....

[elsewhereuniversity]

About Face

“Do you have any questions about your prescriptions today, uh…m-miss?” The pharmacist’s question is laced with assumptions about who you are. It’s not great, of course, but it’s also not worth your time to fight about today.

“No, I’m good,” your smile and voice are sugary-sweet, but your eyes are daggers as you take the bag and turn back towards the door. The heat and humidity are already staggering at 8 am and you are immediately made sticky by the brief walk to your car. As you start it up, there’s a brief chime of email-receiving from your phone, but you ignore it. Then there’s another ding, this time your lab-mate, Valerie, texting you.

Hey, u almost in?                                                                                     In like 30min. had to stop by pharmacy

K. Jill was looking for u. Also ugh that paper for tomorrow, I’m not even a  birdsong person lol

Lol get over it, I had to read one of your fancy neuro papers last time. Did jill say what she needed me for?

Whatever lol. She didn’t say.

                                                                        Ughhhhhhh

Jill, Dr. Dominguez, is your advisor, and you know you need to get her some figures and sections of your thesis soon, but these damn stats…well. There’s a reason you prefer spending your time traipsing off-trail through the wilderness over sitting in front of a computer all day. Not that this part isn’t interesting and important too, but come on.

Traffic is moving at a sluggish pace, of course, so you’re lost in contemplation and dread of the analyses you need to attempt running today, and the inevitable conversation with Dr. Dominguez that will have to happen at some point. As the traffic finally begins to move, you grit your teeth. Maybe it’s time to consider actually asking for help. I have no fucking clue how to do multivariate shit…You stare ahead as you inch forward, before a frustrating, jolting stop at a red light. Your eye is drawn to a kid crossing the road, wearing a grey hoodie. They look forlorn, for some reason you can’t entirely enumerate, and you glance back at them as the light finally turns.

The sun isn’t very high yet, so there are still some odd shadows stretching across the sidewalk, but you could’ve sworn that the kid had no face.

****

You manage to put the pharmacist and your grandma and the obviously-just-a-trick-of-the-light-I-mean-how-else-could-that-be faceless kid out of your mind for the rest of the morning and actually get some results you can work with from the analyses you’d been worried about. And when Dr. Dominguez pops into lab to talk to you, she is actually impressed at both the pace and quality of work you’ve delivered thus far. In fact, you’re feeling pretty damn good about everything, despite the earlier unpleasantness, so you decide to grab some lunch and hang out with some of the other grad students and lab techs.

Lunch-special sushi in hand, you plop yourself down at one of the rundown old tables in the work room. Valerie is there, along with Raul, one of the grad students from a micro lab down the hall, and Jackson, one of the general lab techs. Everyone says hi, but you’re only vaguely following the conversation as you dig into your spicy tuna roll. Something something TA stipends being cut. Which is such bullshit, of course, but nothing new. You’re just about to jump into the discussion when you get a Facebook notification. It’s your cousin, who tagged you in a post. You stare for a good five seconds at your phone.

Just remembering the good times with my cousin before he decided to be a transsexual.

And then a picture from when you were 14, a picture you’d thought you’d deleted from every conceivable online location. A picture that highlights pretty much every single aspect of your body that made staying in the closet completely untenable. Everything just always happens at once, huh.

“Fucking asshole,” you mutter, and are surprised to feel the hot prick of tears in your eyes.

“Becca, you alright?” Valerie asks, and you belatedly realize that everyone at the table heard you and is now staring. They think you were talking about one of them, or responding to something they said.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. Just something my cousin posted. She’s—she can be such a jerk. Don’t worry about it,” you say as you hastily wipe away the tears.

“What’d she do?” Jackson asks. Valerie glares at him so fiercely that he rolls his eyes and holds up his hands, “Just, like, if you wanna talk about it.”

You sigh. You’re not precisely going stealth, but you also don’t just talk to everyone about being trans. Have you actually come out to Jackson? Valerie knows, and Raul, but you don’t think you’ve ever directly talked to Jackson about it.

“It’s—it’s fine. Just, she posted a picture of me from before I came out, and I really hate thinking about any of it.” You speak with a bit more force than you intend.

“Why is that a big deal?” Jackson asks, taking a bite of his pasta. Valerie glares at him again and Raul just shakes his head.

“It’s just…it took me a long time to figure it out, and I don’t particularly like being reminded of that. And it’s not great for dysphoria, either.” You say this distractedly as you go to the post and untag yourself.

“That’s really rough,” Raul says, frowning.

“Sorry, what’s that word?” Jackson asks with a raised eyebrow, “I guess I just don’t get it? It’s just a kid picture of you, what’s it matter?”

And that does it. You stand abruptly, “I need to get back to the lab.” You hear Valerie and Raul berating Jackson as you walk away, but you’re just so very done. You toss the empty sushi container in the trash at the corner of the hallway, near one of the windows overlooking the main walkway through campus. And you nearly trip over your own feet as you swivel to double check something down below. A gray hoodie. A child with no face looking over their shoulder as they turn a corner.

****

You don’t mean to take the wrong street. It’s already been far too long a day between all of the inanity with your extended family and Jackson. And everything you tried to run after lunch was a bust, making you feel like Dr. Dominguez’s praise earlier was completely undeserved. Given all of that, you decided to get takeout again, even though you really should be cooking, so you’re walking to pick up your order. It is early evening, the shadows having elongated to embrace nearly everything, and while debating whether it’s even worth confronting your cousin about the jab, your feet simply take you the wrong way. You don’t even notice, until you’re standing in front of an empty park that’s three blocks over from where you should be. Or, wait.

Not empty. One lone figure, sitting quietly on one of the swings, wreathed in shadow.

You’ve been walking quite quickly, but over the course of a few steps have come almost to a stop. With a shiver, you glance around the area, but no parents or adults are in sight, and the figure looks young, even from a distance. 12, maybe? Maybe the kid lives in one of the nearby houses? Probably. Should you call someone? Who? Not the cops. They’d just as soon arrest or hurt the kid as help them. It isn’t that late, leaving the kid be is probably the most prudent course of action.

But. The kid feels…familiar. Even from a hundred meters, you can see that their shoulders are hunched, their hands are tight on the chains of the swing. The gentle creaking as those chains move with the slight shifts of the kid’s body is despondent in a way that is known to you, somehow. So, against your better judgement, you leave the sidewalk and walk across the damp grass to the edge of the playground. When you step onto the sand, the kid’s head jerks up and their shoulders tense further, raising almost to their ears. You stop walking and from the new angle a streetlight throws the kid’s grey hoodie into stark relief.

“Are-are you okay?” you have to clear your throat to get the words out and your voice sounds weak and tinny in the still, silent park.

The shoulders shrug. The kid is also wearing jean cutoffs, their scuffed sneakers unlaced.

“Do you need me to call someone?”

A sharp shake of the head, and then their hands release the chains and fall into their lap.

“Don’t need anything,” the kid’s voice is low, you can barely hear what they’re saying. Gingerly, you take the last few steps to the swing set and awkwardly settle into one of the worn rubber seats. Only after you have already done this do you think to question why you are so compelled to talk to this child who—maybe? how?—has been dogging you all day.

“I said I don’t need anything,” the kid says in an emotionless voice. Their face is still completely shadowed by their hood and shaggy hair.

 “I just—look, kid, I think I’ve been where you are, and—”

The kid cuts across you, “I tried to tell them today. But I…couldn’t, I didn’t know how to, so I just ended up saying I like girly shoes and wanted some or whatever.”

Oh. So you were right. You know exactly what’s going on. In fact, you’re pretty sure you had that precise conversation, once.

“That’s tough,” you acknowledge, slowly pushing back in the swing, which creaks beneath you, “It took me a long time too.”

There’s silence. Then:

“That’s what I was worried about.”

You start and quickly glance over at the kid, who has finally turned to face you.

She doesn’t have a face, which, you suppose, really shouldn’t be a surprise. You weren’t seeing things, earlier. There’s just a smooth expanse of dark olive skin. The featureless head tilts to one side and she speaks again.

“I thought you might recognize me.” The voice is plaintive. With every word, you feel a sense of vertigo, like there is a mouth, somewhere, that is making those sounds, that it’s right in front of you, but you cannot perceive it.

You are breathing very rapidly, “I thought—how do you know me? What’s, I mean—”

“This?” the kid gestures at her face, “I don’t know, I can see but I can’t see myself, I dunno what’s going on. All I know is I was walking to the park and then I was here, or I mean, on the road this morning and saw you and I followed you and I just want to go home or just sleep or just melt away but I can’t, okay? There’s just nothing.”

Without noticing, you have sprung to your feet and are backing away from the faceless girl, the faceless girl who can’t tell her parents who she is. Who you are.

“I didn’t want to think about it,” you whisper. Why are you even responding to this? This is a hallucination, or a dream. You’re just reacting to the whole bullshit situation with your cousin and Jackson and that fucking pharmacy tech. Did you fall asleep back in the lab, is that it? You pinch yourself, but no luck, “I came out and that was what I needed. Okay? Why dwell on, on, on all of that shi—stuff that happened before?”

The girl is still sitting placidly in the swing, though her hands are once again clenched around the chains.

“I knew you were me, I guess. So I followed. I don’t think anyone else notices me either, not that that’s anything new,” The note of bitterness in her voice cuts you to the bone, “I thought maybe you—me, future me, whatever—would be able to…fix me? But nothing’s changed, has it?”

You’re backed up to the slide now, “Why are you doing this? What even are you?”

You slump against the side of slide, your knees suddenly weak, “This cannot—this is bullshit, I don’t know how you’re doing this, but—”

The faceless girl is in front of you now, hands jammed into the front pocket of her hoodie. She stands there, contemplating her future self, “I just want to understand,”

The kid, proto-Becca, or whatever or whoever she is, sure sounds like a kid desperately trying to make sense of something, and not some ghoulish nightmare creature.

“Just stop,” you say in a hoarse voice, “I just don’t want to think about it, I shouldn’t have to think about it, I just want to move forward.”

“Yeah,” proto-Becca abruptly falls to her knees, and draws them up to her chest. It takes a few seconds for you to understand the sounds that the kid is making are sobs.

You hug your own knees and contemplate getting up and running away and just forgetting about all of it: this faceless phantom of your childhood self, your relatives’ inability to accept your reality, the absurd, useless, pointless stats and analyses. You’re crying too, desperately trying to refocus on the here and now, instead of being drawn down into the rabbit hole of loneliness and regret and fear that always consumes you when you think too hard about those years in which it felt like your whole body was turning against you and you couldn’t find any satisfactory explanations for what you were feeling.

But the sounds of proto-Becca, of proto-you, sobbing into her knobbly knees bring you back to the present. Ironic, that. No matter what else, however she got here, whatever happened to her face, she’s a kid. She’s a kid. She’s. A. Kid. You were a kid.

You furiously wipe your eyes and nose and sit up, scooting a bit closer to proto-Becca.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” you say in as steady a voice as you can manage, “I was scared, and, and, and I lashed out. It’s not your fault, kid.”

She doesn’t lift her head, but the sobs are quieter.

“I mean, kid, no offense, but you don’t have a face. And somehow you’re me, right?” Okay, that came out meaner than you meant it to, “The truth is that I’ve done my best to forget pretty much everything that happened back when I was…you, I guess. But I can’t.”

She sniffles, “I’m trying to tell them, I am. But the boys at school, every time I try to talk to Mom or Dad I see those boys laughing and yelling and coming at me and I can’t, I don’t—know how I ended up here, or what to do about this or anything. I just want things to be normal.”

And, finally, you get it. Not why she’s here, or how, or what any of this means, but, at least, what to do. You’ve tried to help kids who were like you before. You’d never have told them that they needed to keep their feelings concealed, that they needed to not do anything so as to avoid reminding you of your own past. So why, then, are you doing it to yourself?

“Is it okay if I come sit next to you, maybe give you a hug?” you ask, as gently as you can.

You get a glimpse of the faceless face from behind the curtain of hair, “I—I think so?”

You get to your feet, a task far more laborious than you feel it should be, and cross to her. When you plop down by her side, she twitches, but it’s toward you. Slowly and carefully, you wrap an arm around her narrow shoulders, and hold her close. She’s still crying, and the hood has slipped from her dark curls.

“It’s okay that it’s taking time,” you say, “It’s really, really hard. I meant that. There’s…nothing out there. No one to explain to you, to, uh, us, what these feelings mean, really. I remember. I remember how much it feels like you’re just stuck in the same looped computer program. Endlessly completing the same actions with no idea why, only feeling like something isn’t right. And so scared of what happens if you do anything that breaks that loop.”

“That’s pretty much it,” she says with a note of wait, that wasn’t completely in my head???, “I don’t see how I can explain to anyone, especially Mom and Dad.”

“I think all you can do is be honest. There are some resources out there, although maybe they aren’t published yet,” you glance sideways at her, “But if you just…elucidate those feelings you’ve been sitting on, it at least opens the door to them comprehending.”

“I guess so,” she sighs, and then giggles, “But also, like, no offense, that was, like, a really freakin’ pretentious way to say that.”

You snort and ruffle her hair, “Whatever. Something for you to look forward to, then.”

She’s quiet for a bit and then, quick like a bird, she wraps her arms around you too, “So I’m gonna tell them, then?”

You shrug, “When you’re ready. Whenever that is. And I promise, you are no lesser if it takes a while. Okay?”

“But you’re still going to hate thinking about me, right? I mean, about how long it took me, you, to finally do it?” her head tilts.

You sigh, “I don’t know. It’s hard, I won’t pretend it isn’t. But I think I can at least say that it’s okay. That it’s not my, or your, fault.”

When you look up, her face appears. Smile first. Broad and full of braces, her quick and nervous brown eyes darting to your face and then back to her knees.

“You’ll be fine,” you say, giving her one last squeeze, “I’m the living proof, right?”

Her laugh lingers in the air as she fades away.

x

[albino-whumpee]

Love

I´ve been so self indulgent during this week, thanks for your patience. I went overboard with this @whumpmasinjuly ´s prompt for day 3, “Love”. (2020)

Taglist: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @giggly-evil-puppy @cowboysrappin @haro-whumps @burtlederp @neuro-whump @comfortforthepain @whumps-the-word @whole-and-apart-and-between @broken-horn @ashintheairlikesnow @rosesareviolentlyread @starnight-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @as-a-matter-of-whump  @whumpasaurus101 @grizzlie70 @twistedcaretaker @boxboysandotherwhump @unicornscotty

CW// Slavery, ´pet whumphuman trafficking, referenced conditioning and past dubcon/noncon, trauma survivors navigating relationships and recovery. Slightly Stockholm syndrome affected whumpees.

It was snowing slightly outside the supermarket. Sann had waited outside the house with his brown coat and muted blue sweater, when they came back home from work. Pushed Albus towards the snowy street to buy ingredients for dinner.

It was odd, because they had enough food for Christmas, which would be next week, but he couldn´t say no to Sann. Much less when he looked so happy going outside whenever he could. Stopping a few times to play with the snow. One of those Sann slipped and fell on his butt, making Albus jump to see if he was alright, right after he snorted and broke into laughter. 

“I’ll get you some cream for it later yeah?” The freckled boy´s jeans were still a bit wet when they went inside the store. Sann patting it with a pained frown on his face. 

“Hey Sann, look” Albus called when they were passing by the clothes isle. The other boy’s hand passing over the clothes like always before he turned. Sann´s face went from interested to a pout, noticing the other was holding anti-slip snow shoes with a shit eating grin. “Could´ve come handy earlier, maybe we should buy them” Sann hit his shoulder as the other snickered. 

A few steps away Sann took something from the book isle and trotted back to hand him it with that bratty smile he had. 

“Merry Christmas then” Sann signed when Albus pulled his eyes up, away from the “comedy for dummies” book on his hands. 

“Ha, you think you´re so funny don´t you?” he said pulling him closer from his coat. “I know how to shush my favorite comedian though” he quickly inhaled before he kissed the corner of his mouth, just a little peck on the lips that left Sann looking for more as he pulled away. Just staring into each other´s eyes for a moment. 

Sann gave him another quick kiss before he smiled and grabbed softly Albus´ chin. Shaking it a bit before he stepped away. “You should shush me more often” Sann signed, walking backwards to the cash registers extending his hand. Albus took it without thinking. Bringing it to his lips to give it a swift kiss. 

-

On the way back home, it was Sann who laughed at him when he slipped on the icy floor. The little groceries they had bought, flying in the air to land on the snow. Even though, as they were holding hands, Sann fell too. 

“We should have bought them!” Albus shouted as the other helped him pick up the things, giggling at the way he patted his own butt.

Walking in a bit of pain, they saw the lights flicker inside the house. Just before Albus turned to Sann shrugging, acting as if he hadn’t gone to the supermarket just to make time. Hiding his smirk from the boy as he opened the door with reddened fingers. Watching how his eyes turned from suspiciousness and wariness to shock. 

It was certainly a surprise to give him a party. 

He stared in awe at the “1 year” sign hanging from the ceiling with small triangular papers as Sann pushed him inside. Passed his eyes around the faces that had become his world, not a single trace of lies, of hidden intentions behind their smiles. Just genuinely happy about having him there. 

Tony and Sasha bathed him in hugs and Jeremy pulled him to sit on the table with delicious food on it. None of it spicy, which he knew was even a bigger gift. As he was the only one there who didn’t love spicy food.

“Hey, I´m the mute one here, say something!” Sann signed next to him. 

“I…Just don´t know what to say…Thank you is too plain” his cheeks went red, pulling his eyes back to Zarai. In a silent question, pleading for instructions. 

“Don´t look at me, it was Sann´s and Sasha´s idea” The albino looked at the two with not-so-guilty grins on their faces. He suddenly felt a need to jump and hug Sasha and shower Sann in affection. Proud of him for making a party, even if it was small, it had been hard to make him feel comfortable in that setting.

“Well a thank you is more than enough” Claude said putting a cup with mulled wine on his hands, like everyone had in front of their plates. They lifted their cups, waiting for him to join. He pulled it up with just the biggest smile anyone had seen on him “Cheers!”

-

They stayed playing something called “guess” until very late into the night. A simple game where a player had to think of a movie, series or famous person and the others had to ask things like “is it an action movie?” “Animated?” “Are they gay or European?” to get to the answer. Obviously, Sann, Sasha and Albus weren’t really good at it, but it was a fun way to learn about the world they had forgotten. The pain of remembering, kind of soothed by the wine.

To which by the end of the party, Albus couldn’t carry himself to the room and had fell on the sofa telling Tony he was just fine, didn’t understand why he was so worried if he felt so good! Jeremy and Sann bonded over animated films (which were Sann’s favorites) and some math thing used in economics Sann always tried to explain to him but never could quite understand. But whatever concept he could wrap his head around had helped him to land a project with a great commission all by himself. He was really happy Sann had a friend outside of their circle now. How he seemed to enjoy it too leaked on to his own mood.

“Having fun?” Sasha tucked some of his hair behind his ear. He gave her a few nods with shut eyes. A wide smile had been there since the very beginning.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy. Maybe even before” he told her in a daze. “Thank you Sasha”

He couldn´t believe it sometimes. How different his life had become since a year ago. If it hadn’t gone this way, he would still be in training, maybe just waking up from an endurance test, or maybe on a cold isolated cage. Hungry, alone, but safely away from other handlers. His body aching, but just desperate enough to be obedient and stay quiet behind the bars.

This honestly felt like a dream he didn’t want to wake up from.

“Your welcome, Al” she smiled at him before pulling him up “You will get used to this after a while. Trust me. It was difficult for me at the beginning too”

“Parties?”

“Freedom” the boy hummed as reply “Alex wasn’t a bad person. Just in need of some help, until they didn’t” she stayed quiet for a second, rubbing her wrist “It was scary to hide it, that someone would call and I would go back even with my papers in order and all, but. I guess, people also helped with that” she said looking at Tony. “Made it easier to trust” Albus knew for a fact they would marry someday. Maybe sometime on May, if Tony finally showed her the ring, so he smiled at the love-struck look on her eyes. “And maybe not forget, but keep going despite everything”

“I hope Sann feels like that someday too”

“And you too, Al. Someday” she said pointing to his neck, where the collar still stood. He let out some air. A heavy sigh, one he didn’t show the real weight of. Putting a vague smile instead.

“If you need help with that, give me a call. I will help you find them”

Albus frowned “Who?”

“The people who helped me. You called me once to ask me about them, but you never brought it up…You don´t remember?” she asked him when he only ket looking at her with a tighter frown.

“When did I do that?” Albus asked, but he never got his answer as his attention quickly sled to the boy walking their way with a large shy smile.

Sann walked to them with a guitar on his hand before he sat in front of him. Other people taking out their phones to catch the moment Sann signed this was his present for him. That he would find a way to get him what they saw at the store, making the albino chuckle, lifting himself up to be sit upright when Sann inhaled deeply and put his hand over the strings.

It was a soft tune, wrapping him in the warm feeling of a rhythm that carried you like a butterfly on the wind. Playfully doing tricks as it went higher. Having a rustic touch to it that made Albus imagine a valley of wheat swaying with a soft breeze. At the middle of it Sann’s fingers moved slower, low tones in quick succession that gained speed, Sann’s fingers moved swiftly down the strings. Squinting his eyes to try smoother down the migraine trying to come for him. Slightly pulling him out of the roll before he finished in a twist, a combination of the butterfly and the low tones that made him think of stone alleys and high windows.

When Sann lifted his eyes to see his reaction, He had to be quick to put the guitar away to receive him on his arms. Clapping and cheering, slightly drowning the messy praise the boy gave him. Mixed with a few curses followed of I love you. Low enough only Sann could hear them.

After a while, he was clinging to Sann on the sofa. His legs over his lap and his arms around his shoulders. Foreheads touching each other. Whispering little things as Sasha and Tony said their goodbyes from the door. Jeremy long gone after a friendly hug and congratulations were given.

Sann wasn’t a light drinker. He was perfectly fine while listening to a drunk and affectionate Albus, with a grin on his face. Nodding whenever the other asked a question. However nonsensical it was.

“You’re so nice, Sann” he said. Face warm and flushed. Eyes glassy like he was about to cry “You with me when you’re so great….” he pressed his forehead against the other. Slightly nuzzling. “I don’t know what I did to have you in my life, but whatever it was, it must have been very good” it became Sann’s turn to get flushed red. He suddenly pulled away and with a very serious face he stared into Sann’s gray eyes. “I love you”

Sann was frozen on his place. But he pulled up his hand, keeping his middle and annular down. Albus didn’t took long to imitate the sign.

It was a bet, but he leaned on. Sann closed his eyes, checking if there wasn’t a voice telling him if it was the right thing to do, and pressing a bit with a little smile when he found none. Soft lips meeting his and pulling apart in a quick inhale. He was surprised, however, when he tried the tip and was met with a bold reply. A hand on his hair and a twist in his mouth. Even then, careful to not let slip his hands to his bare neck. Delicious and at the same time amazing as he knew the person it was coming from. Despite that, it didn’t feel forced, or practiced until mastery. It was messy but engaging, it felt genuine. So when they pulled away with a pop, Sann was wide eyed at the albino.

“Is that a good shush?” He smirked, red eyes glittering under the moonlight.

“Dunno” Sann’s dimples showed on his cheeks “I need a second try” he signed before putting away his glasses. Feeling the boy’s hands pass to his back and pull him closer.

“Sann…” he suddenly went in the middle of the twist. Pulling away “thank you”

“…For what?”

“For everything. For…this” he said putting the same sign he did before. Pulling it down and sinking on the other’s chest “I hope you’re happy forever, however it may be” he said before Sann’s face pulled into a slightly confused frown and lulled him to sleep. Carrying him back to bed after a while.

-

In their room, Zarai slept soundly on his chest. But Claude was troubled. Ever since he had shifted jobs, he couldn’t fall asleep easily. Tonight, it was the celebration stuck on his mind. He remembered the boy’s bloody papers. So he knew the day he had arrived, was the same as his birthday.

That’s why they had made him the surprise party.

But even when Zarai had widened her eyes, even when she had found herself angry she was even more shocked to not tell him. And Claude couldn’t know if it was the right decision or not.

As he woke up with a migraine and looking overall destroyed, letting Sann prepare breakfast for all of them and feeling slightly guilty for taking a pill, but exuding a joy that couldn’t really fit on the doctor’s head. As he saw him thank Zarai for letting him rest, Claude tried to think, to believe it was for the best.

I actually based Sann´s guitar thing on this thing my dad did. You can hear it here.

[albino-whumpee]

A little talk

Let´s get right to the spicy things.

Taglist:  @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @giggly-evil-puppy @cowboysrappin @haro-whumps @burtlederp @neuro-whump @comfortforthepain @whumps-the-word @whole-and-apart-and-between @broken-horn @ashintheairlikesnow @rosesareviolentlyread​ @starnight-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @as-a-matter-of-whump  @whumpasaurus101 @grizzlie70​ @twistedcaretaker

CW// Pet whump, dehumanization, implied torture and dubcon, noncon touch, creepy whumper, creepy caretaker, touch starved whumpee, mind games, conditioning and manipulation. 

A few weeks passed quicker than Albus had imagined. He quickly understood his Mistress had a quick paced life hard to keep up with. 

She was someone that was hard to read. 

One morning she could be the tough, unforgiving business woman that would scold him for every misstep and another she would cook him her favorite breakfast “just to know if you would like it”, she had said. 

His heart had warmed up at her words and had taken a mouthful of the dripping-with-spicy-salsa eggs that set his mouth fully on fire. 

“Delicious, th-thank you so much, ma´am.” he said sniffing away the burn on his tongue as his eyes turned glassy “Thank you for cooking for me, ma´am” he had said before Zarai rushed to stop him and then flew to get him milk. He had profusely apologized for not being able to handle spice, as it was something his owner had treated him to.

The boy had felt something fuzzy settle on his chest when Zarai told him he was allowed to refuse to eat something if he didn´t want to. And when he did left food, he had surprised himself to find it on the fridge for him to take when he wanted. 

It didn´t take him long to understand food wasn´t given as a reward, nor was earned, but it did take time to not check on the fridge every few minutes to reassure himself he wasn´t dreaming.

From then on, Zarai kept in mind Albus diet shouldn´t include anything too spicy. He would plummet down on his bed at night remembering in the middle of night that he had to change. 

However, there were also be times when he would stay up all night with a dictionary and practice books laid all over his desk, every night more cluttered than the one before. During those silent moments, he would twist the collar between his fingers and slide his eyes to the sketchbook. Allowing himself to wonder what would Sann be doing. If he was fast asleep, safe and calm or awake on Robert´s arms wearing that fake smile or trying to hold a scream.

He shook the thoughts away and tried focusing on work. 

There was no point in worrying, he told himself over and over. If anything, he could only hope that if their owners allowed it, they would meet again. Mysteriously, that thought alone pulled him to try to play the role of “Albus Serra, Zarai´s assistant” better. 

He thought he was doing a good job at it. Eating lunch with Tony and Sasha, slowly relaxing more around them, enough to hear Tony confess he had bet he would be fired on the first day and along the rest of the department, had to pay to one lucky winner a second salary. 

When Albus received his paycheck, he thought the correct thing to do was to give it to his owner. What use would a pet have for it? 

However, when he extended the envelope to her, she simply pushed it to his chest. The boy had blinked at her in shock.

“It´s yours. What do you wanna use it on?” she had asked him in the sweetest tone he had ever heard her talk in.

He clenched his fingers around the paper. “I-It´s really…mine?” 

“You earned it” She had told him.

He remembered feeling an itch on his legs. As if in preparation to break into a sprint towards the first bus station he saw. But handler Harry´s snapping his baton on his leather gloves cracked through his memories, making a shiver ran up his spine. 

He decided spending it on the pencil for his tablet and saving up the rest was the smartest move to deal with suddenly having so much liberty. 

Albus was unusually cheerful, already getting used to the throbbing behind his eyes at the constant exposure to reading. He had a smile on his face as he walked back to the office to finish the task Zarai had entrusted him with, but his mood took a dramatic turn when he recognized the person inside the lift.

Every veteran in the office stared at the man making his way through the maze of desks with a surprised, confused smile. The shabby looking man stepped into the office with outmost elegance, despite the smell of weed permeating his clothes.

“Is that Robert Glass?” a woman whispered to the man on the other cubicle.

“Yep. He hasn´t put a foot here in years” Albus learnt through Sasha that after an incident, he had somewhat vanished. 

All eyes were in the man halting to a stop in front of the increasingly growing stiff albino.

“Mister Robert” Albus said. Feet glued on the entrance of Zarai´s office.

“Hey! It´s been a while, Albus” The boy simply stared at him. Nobody watching could know if it was fear or hate what made him curl his fingers into a fist. “Is Zarai there? I have to talk with her”

“No, sir. She is on a meeting. Ma´am will be back in an hour” The boy responded with palpable hostility despite his poker face. The man seemed unbothered by it.

“It´s alright, then I will wait inside” he said already walking into the office. Albus chest puffed up a bit, before staring down and then walking inside. Closing the door behind him, made the rustle of murmuring dance in the air.

--

Robert paced around Zarai’s office. Touching every surface with slim fingers. Knowing fairly well red eyes followed his every move.

“Don’t worry, I won’t steal anything” Robert grabbed a book from the shelf glancing for a second at the albino, before putting it back “I’m just here to have a little chat” he made a twist and sat on her desk. Facing the boy “You know, talk with you a bit”

“With me, sir?”

“Yes” he drummed on the wooden desk “Do you like games, Albus?” He asked the suddenly mute boy. “Do you remember if you liked them before becoming a box boy?” He pulled an eyebrow up.

Albus blinked rapidly. Trying to keep away the headache starting to form behind his eyes “I don’t… I don’t remember, sir”

“That’s very sad. Don’t you even remember your own name?” The man asked with fake concern. Albus shook his head.

“No, sir” Albus eyes dropped for a second before lifting up again “Box boys don’t have names”

The man couldn´t hold a smile before turning it into a dramatic sad face.

“Pity” he said before lifting himself up and walking to Albus “You know? I came to check on Zarai’s assistant because as you may know, she’s isn’t very attached to them and loves to see them get fired” he patted his head, the boy didn´t express discomfort. Completely pokerfaced as the man lowered his hand “Well done. Good to see the handlers at the company made a good job with you”

Albus swallowed, as images of men with the collar’s remote on their hand and a cane on the other appeared on his head. Yelling at him with the cane held above their heads in anticipation for not doing a good job on the extra conditioning.

 Memories flooded his senses. The white uniform and the uncomfortable chains around his feet. The needle of the tattoo gun piercing his skin and the haziness of hunger made him dizzy.

“Thank you sir” he managed to say, keeping himself from swaying, putting effort into not showing vulnerability. If something had stuck from the facility that wasn´t protocols, was to not show you were weak. They loved weak, and he wouldn´t give them it. “I´ll keep working hard”

The man stared at him for a second. “That´s the spirit” he went “Now listen well, Albus” he pointed his index up “I want you to be the very best assistant she has ever had. So let me give you some tips, alright?”

Albus´ eyes snapped open in shock. 

“The first thing you got to know is read everything you get handed. Don’t even dare skip a word” he continued with an inquisitive tone that made him nod immediately “You don’t wanna sign something that would put Zarai in a bad situation would you?” Albus actually began to pay attention as the man talked. Cautiously keeping him at an arm length.

Albus frowned, studying the man´s face carefully “Why are you helping me, sir?”

The man stayed quiet for a moment, before a grin appeared on his face.

“Is that what you say to someone lending you a hand, boy?”

Noticing his slip up, the boy rushed to say the words. “Thank you, sir”

“What a good boy” the man ruffled his hair and delighted himself in how slightly he leaned into it “If you work hard, I´ll make sure to reward you” 

Albus couldn´t know what he meant before he continued reciting his tips and advice. By the time Zarai came, Albus had a full list of new business words to search on the dictionary.

She was certainly confused and irritated to see him, but kept her composure as she sat at her desk someone knocked on her door and Albus was quick to get it as Robert settled on a chair.

“What are you doing here?” She asked not looking up from her computer.

“Oh, you know, just checking up on the fresh meat and giving him some advice” he pointed at Albus reading something on his hands. Squinting at the words and blinking them into focus.

The boy gave back a paper to the person and shook his head until the other went away with a slow impressed nod.

“What did he want?” Zarai asked.

“It was a budget, ma´am” the woman tilted her head.

“And why did I not see it?” She asked with a suddenly pissed tone that peaked Albus nerves for a second.

“It didn’t have coherence with the data I sent yesterday and didn’t follow the calendar of activities for Dune’s project, ma´am” she lifted an eyebrow up “he’ll bring it with corrections in an hour” she stared at him and then at Robert before going back to her computer.

“Alright, well done” she said before he could breathe finally. He made sure she didn´t notice though.

Robert lifted himself up and patted the boy’s shoulder before looking at her.

“He’s not so bad huh?” She shot him a glare before he giggled and went away “Goodbye Albus. Ah I was forgetting it. Zarai” his expression suddenly softened as he kept the door half open “I’ll go next weekend, with Claude. It’s been a while since we paid a visit. All three…Will you come?” His voice was oddly respectful. Albus sneaked a glance at the woman. She looked grim.

“It’s already that time of the year?” She said with a hush. She stayed silent for a moment before typing again. “Yeah, only us though” she warned.

Robert’s eyes sparked for a second. A spark Albus recognized from his handlers. The ones that liked to play games with the trainees and promised no good.

“You won’t have a problem if Albus keeps Sann some company for the weekend?” He asked her. Albus made a conscious effort to breathe normally through the churn of his stomach.

“We will talk it out later” she said after squinting her eyes slightly.

“I wouldn’t trust anybody else” he said giving the boy a smile before waving goodbye.

Robert walked out of the office with a gentle smile that got ruined when the elevator´s doors closed. He started humming to himself. Pleased. He loved games that took time. One that needed meticulous strategies that involved messing with the fragile psychology of broken people. Juggling around box boy´s minds was his new hobby and Albus was looking like quite a fun toy.

Zarai knew better than to believe the man´s act and promptly ordered Albus to sit in front of her desk as the door closed. The boy did as he was told and waited for instructions.

“I don´t know what he wants, but try to keep a safe distance from Sann, ok?” Albus shot his eyes open, before knitting his eyebrows together “I have a bad feeling about this sudden…invitation. You heard?”  Albus opened his mouth, closing it in resignation.

“Yes, ma´am”

“I feel sorry about him too, but we can´t do much about it” she said going back to her laptop. Ignoring the boy´s fingers rounding his thumbs in a nervous gesture.

“T-That means I can´t see him ma´am?” he asked trying to not sound as terrified of speaking out of turn. She lifted her eyes and stared at the albino that went completely stiff waiting for her answer.

She went back to work “That´s why I said safe distance. Just don´t fall for him”

Too late.

“Yes, ma´am” he said instead, in an act of defiance he made himself swear would keep hidden from her.