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more-miserables · 4 years ago

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Part Seven - White Wedding

@cubeswhump here. This title has no significance. Y'all know I'm terrible with titles and there's this bit about wedding dresses and I got that stupid Billy Idol song stuck in my head.

Tagging @liliability @albino-whumpee If you're not tagged and want to be, just let one of us know.

Yates was hoping he’d be able to curl up with Ginger under those soft, frilly bedsheets and take a nap, hoping he’d have time to digest all the extraordinary information they’d received in the past thirty-six hours. Ginger looked like he would have benefitted from some sleep too - but he didn’t even wait for his face to regain its colour. He hauled himself up on his wobbly legs, clinging to the wall for support.

“Come on,” he hissed. “I want to look around. Check everyone out.”

“I really think you should rest for today,” Yates mumbled, though he was already trailing after Ginger. “We don’t even have any real clothes.” Andromeda had brought them strange, soft pyjamas when they’d both showered after the doctor left. Ginger’s looked practically brand new - plaid pants and a soft black shirt with long sleeves. Yates’s were older, with a slightly washed-out look, the bright pink faded to a sickly peach. They were patterned with bright red roses; it seemed the person closest to his size was one of the girls.

“I doubt they’ll care what we wear. But we need to make sure these guys are the real deal, okay? Make sure they won’t report us.” The stairs were causing Ginger some difficulty, and Yates held him round the waist to guide him up. “Thanks. Look, I’ll sleep after we meet everybody, if you really want.”

“Okay…”

They jumped when at that precise moment, someone knocked on the door at the top of the stairs. Yates opened the door very reluctantly, and Andromeda strode down the stairs, smiling brightly at them both.

"Are you two hungry? Shall I bring a tray here again or would you like to come upstairs?"

“Upstairs please,” Ginger said, while Yates was still dithering over the choice and the astonishment that they’d been given one. “We want to look around.”

“Ginger does,” Yates whispered. He’d much rather cower in the basement himself.

"Well, we'd love to see you," Andromeda said, "but if you want to stay here while he looks around, there's the TV or I can find you an audiobook or some drawing stuff…"

“No thank you,” Yates said hastily, grabbing Ginger’s good hand. “I’d prefer to stay with him.”

Andromeda nodded, and though he smiled, the look in his eye and his lingering gaze made Yates uncomfortable. He chatted as he led them upstairs and through elaborately decorated, spotless halls.

"There are lots of choices so I think you'll find something you like. Everyone likes different things here. Xander gets sick from a lot of foods so we have to limit certain things. David is back over and he just likes toast and tea, but you can have something more exciting if you'd like."

“We should probably introduce ourselves to David, if he’s our new owner,” Yates said. “We need to be respectful.”

"No, he's not your owner. No one has owners here," Andromeda said calmly, and added, "Well, except the animals."

“It might take him a while to grasp it,” Ginger mumbled. “He was always better at this than I was.”

The kitchen was its own room with the wall connecting to the flamboyant living room knocked down. There was an actual booth by the very large windows, blue benches with grey pillows and a marble table, and a table with chairs that matched the bench nearby. This was clearly the main room they ate in.

Tina, Nils, and Harley were at the table - and there was a new boy there too, pressed right up against Tina's side. His hair had more brown to it than Ginger's, but Ginger almost felt glad he wasn't the only redhead. But this boy had skin that was almost tan and none of the freckles splattered all over Ginger.

There were three more people at the other table, a baby in a wooden highchair, a woman, and a… Yates did a double take and was pretty sure he was a man. The woman wore a very fancy nightgown, decorative lace and silk and way too much effort to sleep in. Her legs were propped up on another chair and she had on fuzzy slippers with rabbit ears, ruining the effect. She was very pretty, though, with dark eyes and smooth brown skin and high cheekbones. Her hair was very big and curly, dark brown with blonde highlights. The baby had very dark hair with curls like hers and skin the same shade, and the frilly pink clothes suggested she was also a girl.

The man across from her seemingly ignored her for his phone, sipping his tea carefully so he wouldn't smudge his lipstick. Who in their right mind would wake up and put on a full face of makeup this early? His shirt was shiny purple silk that matched his nails and his black hair fell in loose curls, and judging by the lines around his eyes Ginger secretly thought that wasn't his real color.

Yates ducked behind Ginger, suddenly shy. This man - if he really was a man, Yates still wasn’t totally sure - was unlike any he’d ever seen. He looked nothing like any of the men who came by Stanley’s house, and he didn’t look like the people at the facility. He couldn’t help seeming rather formidable, with his cool air of class and his perfect posture. The serious look on his face didn’t help. Ginger couldn’t think why anyone would paint their face just to sit there looking miserable, but he was quickly distracted by the baby. She was cute, sure, but also the most unexpressive, dull baby ever. He squinted. Was it even blinking?

Andromeda ran through a list of vaguely familiar names: "You've met Tina, Nils, and Harley. That's Briar, that's Priscilla, and that's David. Xander and Jay usually sleep in and Crow's a little nervous to meet you two just yet."

Yates heard none of that, and he didn't see the auburn-haired boy glaring or the unfamiliar woman sizing them up. He also didn't hear this woman say, "Fresh meat."

He only heard Andromeda say David. He saw the finger pointing at this new man, and David turning to nod at them. He saw David shake his head at the woman at his table.

This was David, the new owner. And Yates had no idea what to expect from a man like this. He went to kneel and show respect again, but Ginger caught him by the scruff of his pyjamas and held him there. Yates froze, staring at David helplessly.

Yates nearly jumped when this man spoke. His voice was surprisingly deep and very plummy.

"You don't have to stay standing. There's space over here, or you can sit over there since you're acquainted with Tina and Nils," he said, waving a hand in their direction and adjusting his glasses with the other.

Yates started asking in a tiny voice which David would prefer, but Ginger wasn’t in the greatest mood after having his hand hacked at for half the morning. He grabbed Yates mid-sentence and dragged him over to Tina’s table.

Andromeda was by their side, running down a list of food options, but both were distracted. At the forefront of Yates' mind was this David, and Ginger was having a staring contest with Nils. Only Nils would not make eye contact and Ginger had no clue what he was staring at. His drink was in a sippy cup and his waffles and fruit were cut into tiny bits. Odd.

“What were you trained as?” he asked. Maybe a domestic - he wasn’t particularly pretty, just like Ginger himself.

Tina gave Nils a fond pat on the shoulder. “Nils didn’t quite have the same background as you, dear. But he’s equally safe and happy here.” She didn’t elaborate, and Ginger was left more confused than ever.

Nils looked at her, squinting like he had no idea what she was talking about. But he went back to his plate, dripping syrup down his bare chest and whining when Tina wiped him down with a flannel. He didn't close his mouth to chew either. Watching him eat wasn't terribly appetizing. Ginger was almost glad he didn’t have much appetite, but he put a waffle in front of Yates. “You should eat something. When did you last eat properly?”

Yates bent his head. “I’m… not sure I should eat.”

“Why not? You must be hungry.”

“But I haven’t done anything to deserve it,” Yates muttered. His voice was low, but Tina still heard.

“You don’t have to earn food, sweetheart,” she said. “Nobody does. You can eat all you want here. You’re not going to get into trouble for eating.”

"It's good to keep our energy up, yeah?" Andromeda called from where he sat at David's table. "You can have however much you want. Both of you."

Yates nibbled his lip. This had to be a trick. Stanley used to do it too. He’d ask Yates if he thought he deserved to eat, and if he said yes he was punished for taking luxuries for granted, and if he said no he’d be punished for not working hard enough.

Ginger sighed. He cut off a corner of the waffle and held it up to Yates. Yates sucked in his lips and Ginger snorted. “Are you five? Come on. Just a bit.”

Yates shook his head stubbornly.

“For me?” Ginger said, putting a breathy, sickly-sweet imitation of Yates’s own voice. Yates gave him a disgruntled look - but parted his lips slightly all the same. Ginger quickly stuffed the fork in his mouth before he could reconsider.

Andromeda caught Tina's eye and grinned. She winked.

As Ginger helped Yates through his breakfast, he stared across the table again, trying to size everyone up. Nils was still painting himself with syrup, commanding most of Tina’s attention, so Ginger looked at the boy clinging to her other side. Brian, was it?

Nils stole most of the attention but when you actually noticed this boy, he was possibly weirder. He just stared at Tina wordlessly and wouldn't touch his eggs and pancakes until she nudged him, at which point he would take a bite or two and then go back to staring. At one point, he noticed Ginger's gaze - and gave him the most ferocious scowl.

Ginger felt affronted and pulled a hideous face back, sticking out his tongue and wrinkling his nose.

"Ah!" Nils suddenly yelled out, jumping up and pressing his face to the window. Harley barely glanced up, like this was ordinary, but Ginger's eyebrows shot up at the goat grazing just outside.

“What is he doing?” Ginger asked weakly. Not that he was upset by the sight of the goat. It looked quite sweet. Maybe it would let him stroke it? If he was allowed. No, even if he wasn’t! He was through taking orders now.

“Why don’t you show them the animals when we finish eating?” Andromeda called over. “Maybe you two new boys would like to see around the house.”

“I’d rather see the animals,” Ginger said. Yates wasn’t too keen on that - he’d much rather look around the house - but he didn’t want to be away from Ginger. He kept quiet.

After everyone had finished, Andromeda collected plates and started cleaning up. Nils crawled over Tina and Briar, who yelled, “Get off!” He was standing before anyone else, waving his arms at Ginger and Yates in an exaggerated beckoning gesture.

They stood obediently, Yates clinging onto Ginger’s good hand. They could’ve been glued together now for all the time they spent linked. They followed Nils to the door, Ginger having to drag Yates out because he didn’t want his bare feet on the grass. Nils, though fairly clean right now, looked like he belonged out here with the animals with his toffee-colored hair standing out in every direction, shirtless with freckles all across his face and torso and barefoot with overgrown toenails. He ran to a shed first.

“What’s in here?” Ginger asked, pointing to the shed. “Which animal?”

Nils turned to them, bunching his four fingers and thumb together and tapping his lips twice before leading them into the shed. The shed was small and from what Ginger could see, there were no animals in there. Just canisters, buckets, metal bowls, and hay. Nils popped the lids off to canisters and started filling a plastic bucket with grey-brown pellets.

“I don’t know what your hand gestures mean,” Ginger told him. “Can you point to what I need to get?”

Nils grunted a bit as he picked the bucket up, and he shoved it into Ginger’s arms. Ginger had to let go of Yates to grab it, and Yates clung to his shirt instead. Then Yates was nearly knocked over when something bashed into his shoulder. He looked down to see the small block of hay that had hit him, and back up to see Nils pointing at him.

“You want my help too?” He hastily grabbed the hay block, eager to be of use. Nils nodded and gave Yates another small block, and he filled up another bucket with pellets and corn and hauled it up himself, cheeks puffing out, and led them out the door. He was almost as small as Yates, and at least a few years younger, but he seemed to trust himself more with the heavier of the feed.

“I guess we’re not worthy of the hard jobs yet,” Ginger muttered, but he didn’t sound cross. He was smiling.

Nils dragged them around the yard. It was big, a bit too big as Nils kept nearly dropping his bucket and when he set it down to take a break, a big goat and a smaller one ran at him. He held it above them and shook his head, but he turned to Ginger and tilted his head toward the goats.

“This?” Ginger checked, pointing to his bucket. The goats were showing a lot of interest in him. The little one lowered its head and bumped Ginger’s legs, making him squeak in surprise.

Nils nodded. “Oh,” he said, like an instruction.

Ginger scattered the food rather nervously. The goats stayed by his bucket, clearly unimpressed, so he tried again, bolder this time. He scattered large handfuls of feed and the goats pounced on it. He looked at Nils while they were distracted. “Can I touch them? Do they mind?”

Nils nodded, patting the little one. Another goat trotted over, roughly the same size as the bigger one but this one was black, brown, and white. Ginger knelt by the brown one. It was preoccupied with the food; it probably wouldn’t mind being stroked. Ginger ran his good hand over the coarse fur, feather-light and tentative. Nils picked his own bucket up again when the little one became interested, hugging it to his chest to keep hold of it. Yates stood back, holding his hay blocks like a shield. He wasn’t too sure about these goats, with their staring yellow eyes and weird smells. He gasped when one of the goats started sniffing at the blocks, but Nils pushed it away with his foot, nearly overbalancing and falling over.

He made another noise, nudging Ginger with his shoulder.

“Are we done here?” Ginger asked. Nils nodded. “Where to next?”

Nils led them around, showing them a giant pig and her piglets in a big pen (who practically inhaled the bucket of food and blocks of hay), returning to the shed to get food for the noisy chickens (Ginger actually squealed when he saw the tiny chicks), and the two cows who wandered the yard with the goats already had their food, hay and other plant matter, that they ate through the bars of a circular fixture. Ginger was running back and forth after they’d finished feeding the animals, as if he couldn’t get enough of them all, and though Yates allowed himself to be pulled to and fro, he was more focused on the two men who had appeared by the fence than the animals.

One was fairly tall and dressed in black with hair that matched, and the other was in a wheelchair, chin-length brunette hair sticking out in all directions like a dandelion. He had an eyepatch over one eye and stared back at Yates as the other man spoon-fed him from a bowl.

“Who are they?” Yates tried to ask Nils, but he just made some of his confusing gestures. He accosted Ginger instead, but he was even less interested.

“Who cares? I’m going to see the baby pigs again,” he said.

Yates hesitated. If he was perfectly honest, he didn’t really want to go look at the pigs again. He wanted to meet everybody, to make sure they would be safe here. He looked up at Ginger. “Stay by the pigs? So I can still see you. I want to meet those men.”

Ginger nodded. “I will. Be careful with them. You never know what people can do.”

You never know what people can do. Yates never knew he’d be able to push old men down their stairs. He shook his head hard, going towards the two men by the fence. He wouldn’t think of Stanley.

The wheelchair was similar to Stanley’s, designed to be pushed by another person rather than driven by the user, with its tall back and armrests. But this wasn’t a weary old man; he was… an adult. Yates couldn’t quite distinguish ages. People were children, adults, elderly. This man was probably on the younger side of adulthood. He looked around the age of most trainees: above eighteen, always. All WRU trainers are of legal age. But never too old, no. They had to be young and desirable. He had no collar, of course. He wouldn’t be a pet. But no one here wore collars.

And this man shrank down in his chair as Yates approached, pressing his head down to his knees with his red-gloved hands over it protectively. The man standing smiled, though his expression was guarded. “Hey. You’re the new guy?”

“One of them,” Yates whispered. He felt quieter and quieter when he was separated from Ginger, like he started fading away altogether.

“Yeah, you can’t miss the redhead. He abandoned you then? The animals can be a big draw. Nice to meet you, anyway. I’m Jay. This is Xander.” He gestured to the man in the chair. “He’s kind of shy with new people. Hey, Xand! Don’t you want to say hello? It’s alright, this one looks quiet and docile.”

“I am,” Yates assured them, trying to be helpful.

Xander didn’t move for a moment, but then he slowly sat up. He looked back and forth between Jay and Yates.

“Do you have a name yet, Curly?” Jay asked.

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh well, that’s something you can think about. Don’t worry too much about it here, it’s really okay when you get used to it. We’re doing okay here, eh, Xand?”

Xander just returned his gaze to Jay, staring up at him.

“Are you a bonded pair too?”

“No,” Jay said shortly. He didn’t offer any other explanation and his smile dropped. Yates backed away and ran back to Ginger, terrified he’d upset them.

Ginger, along with Nils, was in the pig pen. Yates gasped. “Ginger! Don’t get your bandages dirty.”

“Don’t call me that,” Ginger grumbled. “We need to think of new names now. Good names. Anyway, never mind that. Look at this pig!” He held up the smallest piglet. “He’s so much smaller than the other ones!”

“Put him down, you’re going to get your hand infected all over again,” Yates cried.

“I’m barely touching him with that hand! It still hurts a lot. Stop fussing. Don’t you want to come in and meet the pigs?” Ginger said distractedly, still with an armful of piglet. He wasn’t looking at Yates. He was grinning right at Nils.

Yates felt his cheeks growing warm. He had a sudden terrible urge to snatch Ginger away from Nils, away from the animals, away from this very house. He’d never had to share Ginger’s attention before. It hurt even more that Ginger didn’t seem to notice, laughing at something Nils did. Making friends without him.

Yates could feel his eyes burning. He wasn’t supposed to cry, but the rules were so weird here, maybe he could. Even so, he didn’t want Ginger to see. Yates turned and trailed back to the house - and the fact that Ginger still didn’t notice made the tears start pouring.

"Excuse me? Are you all right?"

Yates just about had a heart attack. It was David. Yates scrubbed his face hastily. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”

"Did something happen?" he pressed on. Yates couldn't detect anger in his tone or face, but he couldn't detect much else either.

“I’m being ridiculous,” he sniffled. “Acting like a jealous child…”

"Well, sometimes people react in ways that are… that they think are absurd. But it's better to just let it happen." He paused. "As long as it isn't a reaction that harms anyone."

“I wouldn’t hurt anyone!” Yates cried - then his face went pale. He started shaking, eyes wide.

David looked taken aback. He looked around as if wanting to signal help.

“I wouldn’t hurt anyone,” Yates insisted, much louder. Don’t think about Stanley, don’t don’t don’t...

"I'm sure you wouldn’t. I was just adding as a general rule of thumb."

Yates didn’t know what that meant. He looked down at his trembling hands. Did thumbs have rules now too?

David fumbled in his bag - would that be called a purse or a satchel? - and handed Yates a tissue. He took it and quickly tried to wipe away any evidence of tears. “I don’t think I’m Ginger’s favourite anymore,” he said mournfully. “He likes those pigs best.”

David was silent for a long moment. "Would you like to sit down? I'll make tea."

Yates decided those kinds of questions could be taken as orders. He sat at once.

"Havin' a tea party, Davey?" That singsong voice… The woman with the baby.

That woman left a moment later, patting her baby's back. She paused and winked at Yates, and he shrank down until she disappeared.

At last, David returned, looking unnatural carrying a tray.

"Make your tea however you'd like," he said, taking his own cup.

“I don’t really know how I like it, sir.”

"Please, just David." He looked at the younger man's mug, patterned with flowers. "Why don't we experiment and find out what you like? In general, do you prefer foods that are very sweet?"

Yates still wasn’t sure. Didn’t David know they were given the barest, blandest food available, if they were fed at all? But he obediently spooned a little sugar and honey into his cup.

"Yes, see if you like that. Add more if you would like, but I would suggest only a little at a time. You can always add more but not take away."

Yates couldn’t understand why they were having such a blasé conversation while he was just mourning the loss of his partner to some stupid animals. Maybe David didn’t understand how devastatingly serious this was. “It’s Ginger who likes sweet things. He’s good at making cakes, doing the frostings.” His words wavered as his eyes filled up with tears again.

"You're speaking as if he's died."

“He’s not dying!” Yates started sobbing in earnest.

David was quiet for a moment. He took the smallest sip of his own tea. "Then it sounds like this problem can be resolved.”

“How?” Yates wept. “I don’t know how! We were just us before. Nobody else.”

"Yes, you're a bonded pair. Tell me, what will happen if you spend an hour or so apart, and then come back together?"

“Well… Back at our old place, we wouldn’t see each other all day. But we’d be chained together at night. It was okay again.”

"Don't you share a room? You'll still be spending nights together."

“Ginger might want to sleep with Nils instead. He’s funny and he knows about animals. I don’t know anything about them,” Yates said glumly. “And I’m not funny. I’m really boring.”

"I'm sure that's not true. But I think while he's preoccupied with the animals, you might like to find something you enjoy. A hobby."

“A hobby.” Yates muttered the word like it was another language. “Just for myself?”

"Yes. Most of the residents - recovering boxies, that is, like you - have hobbies." David sounded like he was making a business proposal, tone very serious and expression unchanging. Yates wasn't sure how he knew this, but David was definitely a businessman.

"I've met two other bonded pairs, one here and one at another property I work with," he went on, "and while they all stayed very close with their former bonded, I think they all found something to do on their own. Two from the same pair have even gotten jobs separately."

Separate. The very word frightened Yates. “H-how..?”

"Well, it took some time."

“I don’t remember… a time when we were separate.” It was like Yates couldn’t even comprehend the possibility.

"I think everyone needs some alone time. Spending time alone doesn't mean you're growing apart. If anything, I think it may help you both."

“How?” Yates burst out. “I don’t want to grow apart!”

David looked at him properly. He looked him in the eye, and Yates realized they hadn't made eye contact this whole time. David hadn't looked at his face much at all.

"Two people will form a sort of bond by marrying. They agree to spend life together, but do they spend every moment of the day together? Do they share every interest and hobby?" David asked. "Identical twins come from the same tiny cell that breaks apart. They develop and are born together. Parents frequently dress them alike and people treat them as if they're one person rather than two. But they are individuals and they typically develop their own identities, establishing their own style, separate interests, take different classes in uni."

“But me and Ginger don’t look alike,” Yates mumbled. He found it hard to grasp what David was talking about. He wished he’d just come out with it.

"You were treated as a single unit, but that's not what you are. You're two individuals. Separate people."

Yates wasn’t really getting the point, and it was clear on his face. Weeks of intense training couldn’t be erased so quickly. Maybe they were two separate people, but Ginger felt like a part of Yates. It felt like Yates wasn’t whole without him.

"Why don't you give hobbies a try? Then when your friend comes back in you can tell him about what you've done. It'll give you lots to talk about."

“What sort of hobbies?”

"Why don't you get to know some of the others and ask? Andromeda knits, Harley likes all kinds of arts and crafts, Priscilla has been able to relearn how to read and she likes poetry and makeup, Crow - well, he won't want to be bothered yet. But everyone will be friendly."

“I can just go up to them? They won’t be angry?” Yates checked.

"They won't, no."

“Okay. Thank you, sir - David.”

David nodded. Yates left the table, going in search of somebody else. Probably Andromeda, if he could find him. At least he made more sense than David.

Yates was struck by the messiness of the place as he moved from room to room; Stanley and Ivy had insisted on keeping a clean and tidy house. This place was chaotically cosy, with bright pictures on the walls and various possessions scattered about. The furniture was clearly high quality, though frequently buried under blankets.

"Hiya!"

Even while he was seeking Andromeda out, Yates jumped when Andromeda greeted him in the hallway.

“Hello, sir. David says I should try some hobbies,” Yates reported.

"Oh, he did?" Andromeda asked. "Do you want to right now, or would you rather not?"

“Well… I don’t really have any other tasks to perform. And Ginger is busy,” he said mournfully.

"It's okay to do nothing for a little while. We can put something on the telly, maybe, or we could try a hobby."

“I’m allowed to watch the television?” Yates seemed a tiny bit brighter.

"You are! Everyone's jealous you have a TV in your room," Andromeda laughed, "but you can watch TV in the living room as well."

“We can give the TV to someone else if you’d prefer,” Yates said quickly.

"Not if you and Ginger enjoy it!"

Yates decided to ask Ginger later. He was sick of making decisions.

"What will it be then?" Andromeda asked, smiling. "Telly or an activity? Or we could even do both."

More decisions. Yates mumbled that he’d like to try watching TV, mostly because he knew you just had to sit there and watch it. He felt exhausted already.

"Living room or your room?"

“Living room?” He said it like he wasn’t sure. But Ginger would have to pass the living room when he came back. He’d see Yates and want to sit with him again…

"Okay! Would you like me to watch with you?"

“Yes please. If you don’t mind, sir.”

"I don't mind at all," Andromeda said cheerfully, walking him back to the living room. David was no longer on the sofa. Yates sat on the floor automatically. Those sofas were fancy, there’s no way he’d be allowed to sit on them.

"Are you comfortable there?" Andromeda asked, perching on the leather cushion.

“I’m perfectly fine, sir.”

He flinched when Andromeda moved suddenly, but then could only blink his eyes in confusion when he found Andromeda sitting beside him on the floor.

"Let's see what's on. Looks like someone was on the wildlife channel, but I take it that's more your friend's style?" Andromeda said, different images flashing across the screen faster than Yates could keep up. "Cooking, baking, cartoons, reality - which is more scripted and dramaticized than real, but if I'm being honest… I love trash TV. Fashion, more reality, more cooking, cartoons again…"

“Why are those ladies choosing such fancy white dresses?” Yates asked, seeing a wedding dress program flick by.

Andromeda went back to the channel. "Oh, those are wedding dresses! They're choosing their outfits to get married in."

“Married?” He’d heard of that, but only when referring to their potential masters back at the facility. Yates knew weddings had giant fancy cakes because Ginger had been taught how to make them - but he’d never realised they had these special dresses too. “That’s what ladies wear to weddings?”

"Mhm. Big white dresses are customary, at least in primarily English speaking countries. Where I grew up, women would usually wear colorful silk with patterns and hats, though the white dresses and veils have started catching on."

“You didn’t grow up here?”

"No, I grew up in Mongolia," Andromeda said, though his accent sounded no different from his own. "Do you know where that is?"

Yates shook his head. He didn’t have a clue where Mongolia was. He didn’t even know which side of a map it’d be on.

"Do you know the seven continents? Asia?"

“Sort of,” Yates said vaguely. The names felt familiar, but he wasn’t sure why. Like déja vu.

Andromeda got his phone out of his pocket. He showed Yates a screen with clumps of green surrounded with blue. "We're here on this little island, which is actually rather big and doesn't feel much like an island. This is Mongolia waaaay over here."

“It’s bigger than here,” he mumbled. “Do you remember it?”

"Mhm. My parents and I moved here when I was twelve."

“Why don’t your parents live here too?”

"Well, they died after coming here, when I was still a kid. And I don't have family in this country so I went into foster care. Do you know what foster care is?"

Yates shook his head.

"When there's no one to look after a kid, they go into foster care where designated caregivers look after them."

“So is David your caregiver?”

"He was. I'm twenty-eight now, well past aging out of the system, so now I'm taking on some caretaking myself."

“Caring for us?” Yates clarified. It still seemed foreign to him. They were the ones trained for caring.

"Mhm."

“But that’s our job.”

"Well right now, both our jobs are to judge that wedding dress."

Yates frowned, but faced the television obediently. “She doesn’t look very happy with it.”

"What kind of clothes would you be happy wearing?" Andromeda asked. Any clothes. Not necessarily wedding."

“Um…” Yates paused. “I don’t know a lot of clothes. Just something comfy?”

"Comfy sounds nice."

“I don’t know what kind Ginger likes. Probably ones with animals on,” he said, a little tartly.

"Do you like clothes? Do you like the design and stuff?"

Yates shrugged. “I’d like to see more of them.”

"So you like this show?"

Yates nodded. He did like it too, he wasn’t just saying what he thought was the right answer. This show was simple. The women came in, picked out a few dresses they didn’t like, then found their dream dress and everybody cried and hugged and went away happy. He liked that.

#whump #box boy whump #bbu #pet whump #male whumpee #recovery whump #my characters #my writing

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