#oh boy i love vittorino

[gainnecorpse]

hello!! here is some lore regarding Vittorino and some headcanons i have ^_^

i do not fully understand Vittorino and his relation to rabbits, but it is fun to theorize about!

[du-buk]

8:11 Questions+Answers Pt.2

Got behind again:,D Thank you all for the questions and support though! I hope these don’t disappoint!💙✨✨✨🦭

General Characters Asks;

I’m SOOOO behind on these asks, I apologize to you anons😭💙 But thank you so so much 2nd anon! I love rambly asks, so no worries💙 Thank you for supporting BOTH versions of the game, and liking it! I am honored and I hope you enjoy the sequel; and Gabriel’s next upcoming content then! Thanks again!

For anon 1; hahahaha, I love that! What a cool dream......... I would love to try making such a thing in real life...... but no idea how to structure jokes into four-panels......

But it would be really cool! Newpaper comics and the like were some of my biggest drawing inspirations as a young kid. It would be so nice to give it a go:)

I’ve thought about it, and, sadly no 💔 I’m incredibly busy, especially as of late due to family tragedy, and my health makes it hard to be online all the time.

I’m a mod for one discord server my friends made, and, I do a terrible job at being a mod. I’m never online and just don’t check in with servers, sorry! But I can always happily promote a fan one👍✨

Hmmm......

There’s a small linkage to this. To be honest there was an grand, but old concept for this; but I might drop it as it doesn’t really impact the story in a positive way (as I see it). Or maybe I’ll continue with this, and see what I can do with it in the future.....! Maybe I’ll surprise myself, hahaha. Let’s find out!

But in general it was used before to signify angels, or death’s presence. I don’t know if I like this as I didn’t really use it for every angel in chapter one. For fun, this is what the map looks like when Gabriel and Vittorino talk and the static occurs. The Basilica walls change, and some angels appear.

Hmmm..... oh boy. I think there were a few changes, so I will attempt to remember, but I believe I changed;

Gabriel’s co worker plot line: Meh. It’s a good excuse for him to get to the Basilica. But it’s not so heavily talked about anymore. She is most likely just dead, or missing, and Gabriel can now use Vittorino to help regain his memories. Gabriel’s past overall has done a lot of last minute changes; I think all for the best.

Gabriel’s age: I made him younger. Just to look more helpless and you feel sorry for the guy.

Vittorino and Gabriel dialogue; Vittorino is meant to be ambiguously-taken by the audience when he meets Gabriel. You can decide to trust him, or not.

Accardi and Vittorino’s dialogue in Act 3: I believe I changed some things when they talk about Dante. The old version, I believe, there were indications that Accardi knew who Dante was? He still does for the updated full game, but, now with V2 he claims he can’t remember specifically just Dante’s appearance/face. Lots of face imagery here hahaha

Lots of little details I believe; like what notes Ryker found and such.

The static noise. Also is the reason why in the demo; Leon told Ryker to ignore the static noises; and why it’s not in the full game now. I really just didn’t care for that concept, and wish to use something better.

In the future, if given the chance; I would like to re-make the town and the townspeople. In general just change NPC outfits, way of speech, beliefs, etc. to really give the town a stranger feeling and making the player feel so out of place.

Hmmm..... sometimes I throw an intentional curve ball. Sometimes I don’t give a yes or a no to not spoil the future fun.  And yet, I have also deleted some asks that said too much. I try to delete outdated asks but I’m also just..... not online much and forget to go through my archive, hahaha^^;

Off the top of my head; nothing was spoilered in my answers, but, a lot of people ask me about “how will X character react to Accardi being outed as a cannibal?”

Well.... I’ve already decided to change someone’s reaction. I think this will be fun to write dialogue for, when I’m at that scene, hehe.

To give an idea; 8:11 is has been fully written for years now. But, it’s been a struggle to create a game with my health, busy schedule, etc. as a one-man-team. So, sometimes bits and pieces of the story, or characters, change over time like I do. New things inspire me, challenge me, etc. and I like to implement it in my stories. So far, the ideas and sets I’ve made for 8:11′s sequel overall make me extremely proud, and I hope to show it sometime in the near future when completed. 💙👍💙🦭💙

Hmmmm...... only recently! As a challenge I wish to find voices in the same language characters grew up speaking (i.e, Ryker = French, Gabriel = Italian, etc.) My girlfriend actually pointed out a really nice headcanon voice someone had for Ryker, which is this video;

I’ve shared before that I think Leon sounds like this, but, other than these two, I have no ideas yet on voice claims.

Hmmm...... I don’t know much about instruments, so, I might leave it up for fans to think about, hahahah^^;

I like to think Juliek was forced by his parents to learn violin or something; but he didn’t care for it. So he doesn’t pressure Amalia to pick up instruments if she doesn’t want to. But he loves to hear Accardi play. Maybe Susan knows how to play as well? Maybe instrument-playing is reserved for more upper class people in this world, as it sounds with above hahahaha.

Hahahaha, weeeeell...... ummm.... [weapons/guns talk below warning]

Sorry for a disappointing answer anon, but, I just like arrows! They are often in my dreams, and fun to draw, so it’s common to just see in my artwork and stories hahahaha. I’ve had practice with shooting arrows and guns; and just like them. So I like to draw characters with weapons. Nothing much to it for 8:11′s story(symbolism wise); but maybe for future stories of mine.

Yep! But I cannot say who ;) But I find the secret couples cute

I’m glad you like them anon, thank you!!

After playing Pathologic, and re-watching Twin Peaks, I really wish I developed Dakota and Wankou more. Side characters can be so fun to talk to and interact with. I hope in the future to develop them more 💙💙💙

Yep! Go ahead anon, please help yourself to any of the ADULT characters! Have fun!

Ryker asks;

Are you referring to this?⬇️

Then yes! My dear best friend @jirachi​ made that for me, in support of the game! I actually have it up on my wall, next to my work station 💙😭 So everyone say thank you to her! And since time is played around with in the Basilica, like loose strings, I figured it fit best there:)

He would, if you’re Ryker. If not, but you can see him, he might be alarmed (”why are you able to see someone else’s guardian angel?” he’s thinking) but if you are friendly......he can hug you. He would be so warm, yet probably smell like soil.

They certainly smell bad. They were going to take a bath in act 3, but then found Beetle in the tub instead.

Hi anon! Well.....

It wasn’t my intention, but, if you see fit; then who am I to stop you? Ryker wasn’t written with anything like that, but in general if I write a character with something; I will state it in text. (Which is why there’s so much talk about depression and anxiety disorders hahah)

Leon asks;

Hello anons! He technically had someone he was very close with, but, NOT in a romantic sense. Just a friendly way.

I’ve never written a love interest for Leon, sadly. If you want him though, you can have him. Just be gentle....

He also has no canon last name, so, you can give him yours. 👍💙💙💙

Hahaha, surprised (but glad) to hear! I didn’t think Francis would gather any fans until chapter two. Here’s some fun facts;

He was a morning person until the incident

He enjoys □ □ □ 

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Yes! Francis is just spoken with in a non-human form, so, it can be tricky to tell.

Accardi+Juliek asks;

He probably had to drag them around, got dizzy, and threw up on them. What’s a few more bruises to Ryker when they’re covered in them, hahahaha.

Hannibal, definitely. Your mom is very right👍 I love Mads Mikkelsen’s portrayal of him. Other than Hannibal, Accardi was inspired by other characters like Koito from Golden Kamuy and Westley from the Princess and the Bride.

Are you referring to his pixel sprites? It honestly might have been a mistake, as, pixel art hurts my eyes 😭 I think 8:11 will be the last game I make with pixel art, as, the little details are too difficult for me to keep up with. My bad!

Hello! Yes, I confirmed it over on Twitter a while back I believe. But don’t be fooled........it’s not a long history between them, and anything about them will just be implied. Juliek just likes to fuck.

Uh, no clue, sorry anon. He’s just always had that.

Remember when Accardi told Ryker he gave stitches to Vittorino once? When he bumped his head on a table? Maybe Accardi had to do something similar with Juliek after a crazy night with the boys..... who knows....

Vittorino+Gabriel+Dante asks; 

There’s no cure. We’re just going to have to put you down. Sorry.

He would chase you with an axe.

I don’t mind! I’ve never really thought about it myself.... but I don’t mind it, hahaha. Chapter two might be a wild ride though if you do ship them ;P

Dante enjoyed hunting as it relieved stress, and a way to escape from the madness at the Basilica for a moment. Though, he was never taught proper gun safety (no surprise).

🔞🔞🔞🔞Asks;

....Or in the past, possibly. I doubt Gabriel would want to do anything in a sewage area.

Hello! I am, thank you for asking! You’re free to draw whatever you want, I don’t care.

You might have to ask off anon. I don’t know exactly how to send these images, as, I don’t want to upload them on my archives 😭Just a heads up, I don’t think anything other than bare chests are shown so don’t get any hopes up👍I believe for the priest zine I only drew Leon and Vittorino.

LOOOL yeah okay, pretty funny. But we will have to see, hahha. I don’t really draw NSFW images but I can try my best.

Well.... in honor of Noda, the author behind Golden Kamuy ranking  sizes.....sure. I will do that too 👍✨

Wankou (the biggest)

Dakota

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[maikatc]

Black Sun Tale | Two Weeks

i’m dropping this bad boy early!! this is by far my favorite chapter i have written as of yet so i really do hope this gets spread around from the people that reads this because boy is this an experience!-

regardless, remember that this is a first draft with only minor edits, but nonetheless enjoy the chapter.

- 

The child picked upon the grasses of Fowls and freed the broken pieces from his hand. Only instead of it flying away through some gentle breeze, dashing away into the nature ahead, it fell without any weight behind it, landing flat into the rest of its brethren. He sighed at the falling pieces, continuing to drop them and sitting beyond disappointment. The greens coaxed his weighing patience and filling stomach, yet an emptiness lied in both matters at hand. 

His mother sat by him, face crinkled in concern and gaze fixated on the grass he broke. Her position imposed his usual state: knees up, arms wrapped around and mouth buried in. However, her dress fluffed out of the arms she belted her legs to, the summer blue of the fabric touching both of them, while her hair crumpled up against her arms. No cold winds blew the hair, the dress, even fragile skin away, but the stillness brought eerie silence. 

“What’s the plan,” he spoke. “The one for me to start eating?”

She continued watching the greens falling, no seeming heart to reply at first. “I won’t be the one to guide you in this,” she replied. 

“Then who is?”

“Margaret,” was her answer, “a second era.”

He broke a new piece. “Why her?”

Her tone rang empty, no energy peeping from her arm. “Her and her brother are known in the society to feast on their victims.”

He squirmed. 

“She’s more fitting to aid you than I am.”

Plucking an entire patch of grass, he stuttered out, “What’s her plan for me?”

The best answer she gave was, “I haven’t an idea. All I know is that it may work.”

With the last bit of the grass patch gone from his hands, the boy sighed. He dusted off his dirt-less hands and plummeted himself down. “When do you want me to meet her?”

“… A day.”

“A day?”

She told him, “You likely need to be as energized as possible, as I’ve said.”

“Right.” his body tensed at nothing as the possibilities arrived closer than he would have wished. “So, tomorrow then.” 

She hummed a yes. “I give you my luck.”

Soon, his vision began to blur along with his sense of consciousness. It seemed he must be returning to his normal state. Though before he could frolic with a full stomach and painful guilt, he muttered to himself, “I hope I even have luck.”

***

“Oliver,” Vittorino asked him, “Are you ready to go to Grettie’s for once?”

“Grettie’s?” Oliver whisked his head from his music, a great distraction. 

Vittorino’s arms crossed between one another as he wore an impatient face. “You’ve been avoiding it since you came back from school.”

“And why’re you so worried about it?”

He whined, “Because Alice told me I had to take you.” 

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, besides I haven’t met up with the twins in a while.”

Oliver retorted back, “But that’s your choice! I have nothing so far except that I have to.”

Vittorino sighed. “I’m sorry to say but you gotta get over this,” reminding him, “you’re only gonna get hungrier.”

Plucking a string harshly, the next few days of the starving cycle flashed to him. Morally speaking, dying was the better option. Though the escape from pain and survival weighed more in his fears. “Fine.”

In an instant, another door appeared before Oliver’s room, basking in loving swirls for a design. The bubbliness of it subdued his overall interest.

“I do not like that.”

“Nobody does, except Grettie.” Vittorino opened the door to the inside of another home. Walls formed by wood and decorations to spare. “Hey! Margaret! It’s been forever!” He turned back to Oliver, gesturing him to enter. 

Oliver, still in bed, sighed and brought himself over, grabbing his cardigan on the way.

Once inside, the door slammed shut.

Vittorino already adjusted himself by the dining table. His back leaned by the side of the wooden chair and legs relaxed by laying on another. The table decorated itself with a flower vase and coasters that shined with antique beauty. The fine detail of all the furniture were similar to the table, even. Loving swirls and loops cradled each other in its old-fashioned beauty. And along with it all was the woman of the household carrying a bucket to the kitchen. 

Warm colors bloomed unto her dress and apron, her sleeves dangling against her elbows even when rolled up. Her height continued to stature Oliver, especially in heels, though still not as tall as Vittorino. She held a smile upon her face at him, with brown eyes shining like agates and hair tied with a braid. “Why Oliver! It’s such a pleasure of meeting you.” Her accent was thick compared to others, Oliver supposed German. She lowered a hand to meet his as a greeting, a dirty substance piled onto her skin. “Forgive me for not washing up yet, but I suppose you’ve met the same issue before,” she joked.

Oliver knew the scent, and reluctantly took the hand. “You’re Margaret?”

“Yes, but you’re always open to call me Grettie,” she said. “You can sit with Vittorino while I make preparations.”

“For training…?”

“Oh no,” she laughed, “I simply plan on making sweets later today.”

“Don’t eat them,” Vittorino whispered. “The sugar’s like poison.”

Trusting some of Vittorino’s guidance, Oliver nodded at him while sitting in the other chair. 

As brought herself to the kitchen, and no loud noises rang at her area. Oliver breathed, “Okay, so far, she isn’t as bad as I thought.”

“Oh, Gret’s definitely one of the nicer ones of the second eras.”

He questioned, “Then what’s worse?”

“Well, there’s some that are just stuck-up, so they’re annoying. And others like to complain like first eras, so they’re annoying too.”

“… And?”

“Yeah that’s about it.”

God, I can’t believe it, “What about the crazy ones?”

He chuckled. “We’re all probably ‘crazy’, but the crazier ones of us are just funny.”  

Bluntly, Oliver replied, “You all suck.”

Margaret exited her spot in the kitchen. “Now Vittorino, we need to catch up with one another.” She sat between the two of them. 

He eyed Oliver before speaking. “C’mon, I’ve just been busy with work for months. I need to hear what’s up with you and everyone.”

“You haven’t had any interesting targets?” She pouted. “You have to have at least one good story to tell.” 

Vittorino scowled, “Even with our break, Alice’s been having me deal with eight different people! And I can’t even kill them off like normal because ‘she says so.’”

“That’s seems like a fine hassle, Vittorino.”

“They aren’t. Half of ‘em are dumb and boring.” He rolled his eyes as Oliver sat confused. “But let me hear about how everyone else is doing.”

“Why,” she started, “Hans and I have been living comfortably as always.”

“Yeah, duh, you guys are functional.”

“Though apparently, Orelia found Mei.”

“Huh, no way,” Vittorino’s face widened. “How’d she find her?”

“Got bored herself and hunted her down,” she exclaimed.

“Sounds like her,” he laughed. “And did Mei panic?”

“Well, of course, no! She actually managed to escape from what ‘Relia says too.”

Wait a minute. Oliver continued to stay silent. Is this just their gossip?

“Look, look, now the question is how she even got out.”

“Jumped out of the window while tied up.”

Vittorino busted out laughing.

“It was all for fun and games, so there wasn’t much effort put into it.”

“Still! The savageness,” he wheezed, “is unreal!”

Says the savages. 

“So now Mei’s gone again,” Vittorino asked. 

“Yes, yet again.”

“Darn, I would’ve gone and picked on her a little.”

Margaret asked him, “Well, what about Adeen?”

He shrugged, “We both got tired of each other a while ago. But she had the same deal with everyone else.”

“Well, have you seen her since?”

He scoffed, “No, she’s just bothering herself with her own fires and crying about it, probably.”

“My, what a shame,” she huffed. “But Vittorino, we may need to find another time for stories because of the little one over here.” She gestured her hands at Oliver, now washed and clean. 

He smiled. “Ah, right. Sorry Oliver.” He stood up from his chair and waved as he walked by the door. “Good luck with her,” he commented.

“He’ll need it,” Margaret replied. 

As he shut the door, the woman shifted her gears towards Oliver. “Now then, let’s talk. Cannibal to cannibal.”

Oliver shuffled in his seat. “Even if I joke about it, I don’t like being referred to that…”

“That’s fine then,” she ensured. “About your diet…”

Adjusting his jacket, he replied, “Yeah…” 

“Is there anything you’re curious of?” She pointed towards the kitchen. “Anything you want to try out?”

Oliver twiddled his fingers with a teared-up fabric from her pointing, and tapped his foot against the table. “Not really, but what– … How come you started to eat like that?”

“Why,” she exclaimed, “there isn’t much to it, but my brother and I were introduced to it thanks to Akeldama.”

Akeldama…? The name rang a bell in his head. “What do you mean by introduced?”

“Oh, he gave us flesh for meals as our experiment,” she told. “They tasted all fine and well but we grew accustom to it.”

“Wait,” Oliver pointed his finger to a pause. “Experiment?”

She gasped, “I’m sorry. I forgot you aren’t one of us.” She flipped her braid to the side and twisted it. “Akeldama saved every one of us from one thing or another and raised us all to be free endeavors. But whilst raising us, he experimented us with different kinds of exposure for curiosity sake. Effects varied but for me and Hans, we live jolly lives.”

Oliver pulled back, disturbed at the actions. “And you all were okay with it…?”

She answered, “Some put up with it before he even found them. But all of us trusted him one way or another.” She grasped her apron’s bow. “Besides, if it weren’t for the experiments, I wouldn’t have found a fun joy in the career we have.”

Oliver bit his lip. “Okay, I know you guys have fun with killing and all that stuff, but… explain a little more?”

She chuckled. “Killing is alright, but it’s not my interest. I found more fun in making meals of the matter.” Explaining herself, she grabbed a cup and kettle, serving herself tea. “Nobody’s ever explored what you could make with the meat because of the moral standards, but we don’t have that to back us down. So, it’s like discovering a whole new type of art in cuisine!”

He bit harder. 

“It’s lucky that my brother and I share our payments, because now we’ve set it to where he hunts our share while I venture to see what I can make in the world here.” She grinned in pride at him. Though Oliver refused to genuinely smile back. 

“So, uh, you like cooking then. That’s why.” Oliver studied the house more as a distraction from implications. Cute frames and paintings floated above them on the walls, staring him down. “… How are you gonna help me?”

She swirled her tea around, eying him. “You see, my ability is going to help us today definitely.” Clicking on the ring of the cup, she assured him, “There’s nothing to worry about considering time.”

He questioned her on the statement. 

“My ability preserves time and magic in closed areas and objects.” She said in excitement, “If I ever were to store ingredients, they’d never rot for instance; and that way, we can take as long as needed.”

“Oh wait, that’s useful.”

“It truly is.” She then stood and pushed in her chair. Tea was still buried in her hands as she led a new route. “Come with me, now.”

Oliver followed. 

“How do you feel about eating the meat? As a concept.”

“Terrible.” 

“Oh, that’s no good.” She stopped at a rustic door, one made of newer metal than the rest of the home. She sighed, “I haven’t used this room in forever!” 

Yanking onto the door handle, Margaret pulled with all of her weight and muscle. She tried to keep her grunts hidden though failed the more she pulled on the metal. 

As she struggled, Oliver insisted upon himself grabbing the handle she once held. “Can I try?”

Huffing, she nodded. 

The weight was mild, but his strength prevailed with his missing hunger. The door opened quite easily for him. 

“My,” she cheered, “you’re definitely the son of a strong fellow.” She scuffed his hair, to his pride and discomfort.

Stepping on over, Oliver entered into what laid behind the door. A setting of bricks created a small room along with cobwebs to match the darkness. Rotten water stank the area and the only scene of comfort to be found was a worn-out pillow and a rock bed floor on the side. Countless of cracks and withers dressed the land, grass plucking up down beneath. It was all empty abandon. 

“Huh…” Oliver tensed. “What exactly is the plan for being here…?”

Slam. 

Eyes widening, Oliver whipped his head back to find the door shut against him. Immediately, he run to the door and tried to push it back open. No avail. “Margaret,” he gasped for air, “what are you doing?”

“Ah, luckily I can still close this old thing. Anyhow, it’s my plan for your training,” she said. “I won’t let you out until you eat- oh hold a second, I forgot.”

Her will was correct, as it only took a second until the edge of the door opened up, leaving a little hole. “Until you eat this.” Through the hole, a plate appeared before Oliver, scent thick once she closed the opening again. A raw piece of flesh was on that plate, blood dripping at the edges and forcing Oliver’s heart to pound at the sight. “I’ve heard you tended to eat uncooked meat. Mighty interesting, I say.”

“No…” The shaking body dropped to the ground, gagging and wheezing. “I- I have a family, and friends, and-”

“Don’t worry about that. If you take long, you’ll only be gone for an hour or two.” She added, “And the dungeon disables magic, so you aren’t able to turn into the wolf here.”

Tears were too staggered to drip against his cheeks. He covered his mouth as he whimpered, “Let me out.”

She giggled, “You think that’ll get me? This may have been years ago but I’ve had plenty of people crying in this very dungeon before. You won’t be any different.” Though, after she said, “That is, aside from the fact that I’ll force you if you get to the brink of death- but that’s just because this was all Alice’s request.”

He cried, “But I can’t-”

“And if you’re worried about the meat, there’s no need for concern. It’ll be fresh no matter how long you prevent yourself!” Steps uttered in Oliver’s ears as his heart dropped. “And trust me, it’ll be delicious.”

“No, no, no,” the breathing began. He banged on the door as he screamed, “Let me go!” over and over. “Please let me go!”

But nobody arrived in his aid. No way sufficed as a way out. No one hid to find him at the latest moment. Nobody comforted him in the hopes of anew after so long. 

Minutes passed and he realized this. His last scream finally croaked out as his panicking high peaked. Still restless however, he turned to the plate of flesh, disgusted at the sight. Pushing it aside, he escaped from his thoughts to the corner of the dungeon, and curled up into a ball, shaking and crying in the silence of the darkness. 

***

She hummed as she cooked and baked, twirling around in the meanwhile as she made her fun. 

Hans would arrive to the home from time to time; their sibling bonding being rather kindly and that of a truly connected family. 

Otherwise, some guests would arrive at the home, Grettie greeting them all to her lovely home with delicious sweets and rarities. They’d discuss all kinds of topics and all expressed such great interest and passion between one another, until they left for the satisfying day.

Time spent at her home was considerably gracious. At least, from Oliver’s observations in the dungeon. 

Shaken from weakness and exhaustion, he listened. Carefully and quietly, the life outside his cell irked in his skin as his hunger ached him. A mixture of a certain emptiness welled inside of him, something he could never describe again every second, over the time he had been trapped. And the length of how long he was inside? He lost that long before. 

No distractions were laid out in front of him. The beautiful music to focus upon; the news to worry over; the few friends to trust and talk to, gone with seeping recollection. He wept for them without knowing who he truly wept for by that instance. 

All there was, from the useless bed and careless bricks, was that plate. It daunted him. From the ever-growing scent and tiny pool of blood, it ravaged his mind to almost a resisting obsession. The only answer of escape was through that core of a human, taking it up and knowing it down to his throat where the nectar and bites lodged itself with flavor. He gulped at every thought from the scent, though never carried out. He still refused to lose his own battle despite the torture it brought him. The pain will eventually force him to truly forget his purpose, he imagined; however, the conversations from the outside was his only grasp to the rope of sanity. 

Margaret’s humming continued, a hellish humming so-to-say. Basic and leaning towards off-pitch, but Oliver did not mind anymore. Cutting ingredients and burning kettles tickled his ears harshly, the sounds growing more aggressive the more he stayed. Though, yet again Margaret’s door opened up. 

“Margaret? You’re home, correct?”

His twitching eyes darted at the cell door. The timid voice screamed into Oliver’s memory. And soon his breathing quickened over the voice of his mother who brought him here. 

“Why, Alice! Of course, I’m home.” Steps pattered on the floor. “It’s always lovely to have guests over, come, sit.”

More trickles of steps hit the ground, the new ones much more gentle and hesitant in sound. The chair squeaked away from its spot for one to sit. 

“Would you like some tea?”

“Oh- No, thank you. Your brews are considerably too sweet…” 

Another chair screeched back. “Says the woman known for her amounts of sugar.” An object, likely a sugar cube, dropped into a beverage. The clicking against her tea cup jabbed into Oliver’s ears. 

“Well, not many trust your meals anyways.” 

“But it’s always kindly to offer. Besides, Hans and sometimes Orelia already enjoy what I make.” A sip replied to her words. “Oh, it still needs more sugar.”

She continued to drink her tea as Alice sat silently along with her. 

“So, Margaret…” She cleared her throat. “What was the conclusion for Oliver?”

“Ah.” The junior set down her cup. “It’s been about a week but he’s still in there. Quite stubborn I’d admit.”

“He- what are you speaking of?”

“His training, obviously.”

“… What did you do for him?”

She clicked the cup. “What I did? Why, I decided to use up the old dungeon again and keep him there until he eats. There’s not much else to it.”

A slam banged the table. “You WHAT?”

“It’s a simple method, Alice. People grow desperate quick with it.”

“- And he’s been stuck there for a week? It’s only been an hour since he was dropped off-. Margaret, you’re traumatizing him!

“Is that what you call it?” She laughed. “My dear, his lifestyle must have been filled with so much ‘trauma’ that this will be nothing.”

“Yes but-” she paused. “He’s only a child!”

“A child that’s seen faces of death millions of times for almost half his life, who isolates himself constantly and penalizes himself to the brink of death. I wouldn’t refer to him as an innocent one.”

“… How do you know that?”

She sipped. “It was merely a hunch though it wasn’t hard to guess. Us lost children have had similar instances at some point in time.”

“You’re just excusing yourself,” Alice hissed. “Where is he?”

“Right over there.” A running dashed and slammed at his door. 

“Oliver! Oliver, are you okay?” Alice cried out for him carelessly. 

Thoughts were blurred for the sickened one, his opinions empty. However, few words he remembered, those he questioned, rang out like none other. “I’m fine,” he croaked, throat burning at his first time talking in ages. 

She choked back her tears. “I’m so sorry, Oliver. I didn’t expect her to go this far!”

He never questioned her words, only her actions. 

In silence, he asked, “Why was I created…?”

“What,” she gasped through her sobs. 

“You put me here… because of how I was made,” the words flew out of his mouth without thinking. “Why make me when I have to be in this…?”

She spoke softly. “Because I wanted you. That’s all I ever wanted… But now, I regret being so careless of my desires. Careless enough to make you the way you are. And it pains me every day to know what you are because of me, Oliver.”

A pit in his gut yanked him into a sicker state. “Then, I was a mistake.”

“I-” She paused. “No, no, that’s not what I’m telling.”

She stuttered at words. 

“You’re… an anomaly to be amazed with, Oliver. It was a miracle for you to be created in the first place… But all I’ve wanted was to live a normal life, living in a pretty cottage with my daring husband and beautiful, happy son. I tried my best for my dreams to come true, trust me.”

There was no reaction to the words that displayed soulless for him. Though a certain lie stuck in his head. “What about my father?”

“Your father…” She giggled against her crying. “Christopher was… a rambunctious fellow. He’d pull off some idiotic things just to spite like- like he named himself after his housecat to make our leader mad! He made so many stunts in rebellion it was charming until… that, occurred. But, nevertheless I love him.”

“… Sounds nice.”

Oliver lost the time between their silence. All he heard was her crying, and sobbing endlessly until the emotions laid dry. 

“Why won’t you let me go,” he asked. 

She delayed her answer at first. “Regardless of how terrible it is, you have to learn. Forgive me…” A step back uttered in Oliver’s ears yet again, but this time with no panic or fear. “I’ll have to leave you now, but good luck.”

She left him there, as his loving mother, thanking Margaret for the visit and shutting the door.

***

“What were you thinking, Margaret?!” The door slammed intensely to the harm of Oliver’s more sensitive ears. His conscious began to fade in and out without his control along with his skin wilting into black. Though, despite the weakness, the angered voice brought an unrecognizable memory.

“Oh my!” Margaret cheered while placing down her knife. “Akeldama, it’s lovely of you to be here after so-”

“Answer the question.” 

“What? About Oliver?” 

“Of course, about him,” he yelled. “You don’t know of the consequences that it would bring, don’t you?”

“Well, I figured he’d be fine considering being of-”

“It doesn’t work like that,” he interrupted. “He’s been inside for almost two weeks, hasn’t he?”

No sound of a reply. 

A click was made. “He should be going numb by now from his senses going wild without anything.” He ordered, “Let me see him.”

No steps crinkled into his hearing, however a new feature of the cell door arrived so late. The top opened up a small linear hole for eyes to appear before him. Oliver shook and winced at the light he never recalled. Yet what pierced his heart was the blood red eyes looking back at him. 

“How long were you planning on keeping him here?”

Margaret answered, “About three weeks, since that was the point most of my targets lasted.” 

“That’s too much of a risk,” he replied. “He’ll last two or three days at most by now.”

“Wow,” she exclaimed, “I wouldn’t imagine him being weak-bodied.” 

“Just special,” he commented. However soon after, his voice grew stern. “Now, if he doesn’t eat by tomorrow, you make him eat the food or else I’ll execute you and your brother. You understand?”

Again, no reply. 

“Good, now go. I want to talk with him.”

Soft steps surrounded the area slow and steady, with muttering words, “He hasn’t executed anybody since the 1700s!”

“And I won’t hesitate about it, Grettie,” he spoke back. “But give yourself credit. It’s a first for me to be this frustrated. Consider it a good job on your part.”

“Ah, why thank you, Akeldama.” And she ran off to a room she normally wandered off to in Oliver’s head.

After a moment of silence, Akeldama looked away from the peep-hole and sighed. “I should’ve expected this honestly, but hopefully majority of your memory here is blurred over time.” 

Oliver refused to open his mouth at the supposed, experimental heathen. 

“You don’t have to talk, if you’d like. I’ve just wanted to talk for a long while. Besides, humans need some sort of interaction once an occasion, so it’s for the best.”

The boy followed the beast’s response. Though, his way of speech poked in his mind. 

“… Okay. You’re not in the best situation, even for an apparent benefit. And I know you listened to what I said so let me say one thing: it’s fine to feel however you’re feeling about your case.”

He listened against his wildering mind. 

“People can say idiotic things, make absurd actions, that can overall be ridiculous in the grand scheme of things. But that’s the beauty of it. They choose to do as they please because they feel like it’s the right thing, even if to others, it isn’t, you know?” He blabbered silently, yet with passion sighing out. “And what’s greater is that you don’t even have to listen, you don’t have to agree with them or follow them. Humans choose their own paths because they are themselves and their own mind, and you’re even able to do that as well.”

He paused. “… The point is, no matter the reasoning, or the excuses some make up, you don’t have to follow them or continue on liking them. It’s all one’s choice and you live for your benefit, that’s another beauty.” He formed a short chuckle. “Honestly, you were one of those sudden impulses… from what I recall. Sure, you may not live the best life, but be grateful for living. I’m surprised this has all come this far, even. You’ve been a wondrous creation just with some faults in the mixture, but that shouldn’t back you down at all.”

The monologue eased Oliver’s shaking breathing. His words held no panic nor inane excitement. Only a foreign, changing accent and honest words spoke even when he could not understand them.

“You may not enjoy your hardships with them but you should still live… You’re able to be furious, despondent, fearful, and even if that leads to one’s downfall, it’s still one of the best things you can have. It makes you human. And as-”

He stopped. Then began to pace in his new steps. “I’ve said too much. Far too much, haven’t I?”

Oliver stayed silent still. 

“Why, this is very new for me,” he stammered. “I must’ve gotten it from Livi- no, don’t say that… What should I consider this, then?” 

He talked to himself for some time, to Oliver’s still listening ears.

“Ugh, I want you to forget this- practically all of this, but that’d be ill-wise for your sake.” He continued his fast steps. “Forget about me but don’t forget my words,” and a command was made.

Afterwards, his steps led to the exit and a shut was made. 

More steps scuttled back in, with Margaret’s voice following. “My, he’s never said anything like that to us. What a surprise.” After a moment, she walked on over to the cell door, opening the peep hole and Oliver meeting her eyes. She gasped, “Oh wow, I never imagined something so peculiar… Well, you heard him earlier, I’ll make you eat by tomorrow, so enjoy your time.”

And the opening was shut, cutting off the light he yearned for so long. 

***

After fading away from himself once or twice, he began scratching up his arms. Yet no blood seeped out from the deepening black they have become.

Every movement ached in numb pain. A burning sensation crawled under his skin every second as his heart raced for something to take. His mind floated away from any thoughtful strength, waiting for something to take over him like all the other times, but to no avail, his reliance failed. Outside noises began to ring an inaudible tone while the darkness finally blinded his surroundings. The bricks he laid against disappeared as he lost what he once viewed as a simple corner. And the pain blocked him from being able to acknowledge himself through touch. 

All that remained was his desperate self, and his scent. 

How long will it be until he was finally free? He wondered. It must only be a few hours until she arrived again, dragging him back to the light. Returning him to his home, his music, his apparent love. He would return to where he was cherished, right? Only one would believe of where he had been, and care for him, he knew that much. The gratification of comfort awaited him the more his pain faded away. 

All that was needed was a bite. 

A delicious bite that would bless him back his senses the most sinful way possible. The tender meat stacking on his tongue, blood staining his refurnished skin. The scent and taste masking all of himself and pain with ecstasy instead while the meat crumpled in his mouth into more flavor within itself. 

He would lick up the blood off his fingers, for what a fine delicacy it would be! Such a tiny bite would turn into the amass in front of him. His tiny hands grabbing and hassling all the meat until he gobbled it all up, for what a delight, it was! What an amazement, it was, for embracing such a sin! Who knew something so torturous would transform to something so addicting! 

… That is, until his sight returned to him, and in the dark, was his bloody hands in front of an empty plate. He gasped back with a jump as his energy already started returning to him. The metallic taste blended into his mouth while processing what he committed. His fingers curled into his mouth, his body craving more for what was on it. 

He whipped it away, and tried rubbing it all off on his cardigan. Don’t. 

He stared back at the plate, now empty but still carrying trickles of blood. Don’t. 

Crawling back, his pain ached for more. Please, don’t.

Yet his heart’s cries failed while licking off the blood on the plate. 

“Well, well…” Her words articulated perfectly again. Oliver turned to find the peep hole open. “I wonder how delicious it would’ve been before,” she laughed. 

Glaring at her, he wiped his face, thoughts trying to lick it off. 

“You only had an hour left but, congrats.” The door knob turned, but she grunted back with no door movement. “Oh, now I didn’t think this through…”

“What,” with a tone empty.

She continued to pull the door until she pouted. “It seems that you have to open this yourself, but you don’t have the strength yet, don’t you?” With a sigh, her steps faded off. “I’ll fetch you more food to gain yourself then. Consider this as more than seconds.” 

He sat in silence, and all he reacted with was a lick of the teeth. 

***

“You don’t have to…”

“But I insist!” Margaret rushed back and forth from the kitchen, carrying various items each time from an old cloth bag to a kitchen knife, her apron getting dirtier every minute. “Consider it an apology treat.”

He asked without effort, “And why an apology treat?” 

She rushed out of the kitchen with the burlap bag, brown and sturdy, and handed it to him with blood slowly staining the cloth underneath. “I didn’t expect this to be that much of a controversy, so to say.” She grinned. “This won’t rot by all the rest, but I know you’ll gobble it up in no time!”

A pit in his now full stomach grew. His senses acted up upon the treats inside the bag. “… Okay, just get Vittorino please.”

“Gladly, but you may have to wait.” she dabbled on a piece of paper and pen she quickly grabbed, only to then slide it into a box. “Would you like to talk in the meanwhile-?”

“No- no,” Oliver replied. “I’ll wait… here.” Sitting down, he stared at the bag whilst she sat across from him. 

She placed an arm on the table. “If you must.” 

Only a few minutes passed before Vittorino returned by the door. His arm held his head from behind as he walked in. He sighed, “You cannot believe how dumb some teenagers can be.”

Glumly, Oliver found Vittorino in his relaxed state as always in his talking, but the aching relief of seeing him again simply moved him to his side. 

Vittorino noticed, and looked down upon him. 

“… Take me somewhere quiet.” 

Vittorino stared, then made an understanding face. “Margaret, you took him in there, didn’t you?”

“Did you think it was a bad idea too?” Her arms crossed each other. “Even Akeldama got mad about it!”

He never replied, and instead returned to Oliver’s request. “Yeah, I think I know a place.”

The place was a beach, cobbled with sandy air and a serene blue sky. Clouds overweighed the color; recent drops kissed marks on the ground with gentle mush at every touch. The clouds refused to walk on yet the gusty breeze blew away from any dim atmosphere, blowing speckles of sands and the fluff of one’s hair.

Waters slept soundly, not pushing against the end of the island and instead snoring little tuffs of its puddles. Its clear body reflected the sky above, and through glimpses shined the rocks it used as pillows. Those rocks of smooth sheen crept around every step, from the waters to the growing forest behind. No tide could interrupt the restful evening, not the moon nor any sight of the sun. 

The greys of the land contradicted lifelessness.

Vittorino trudged himself over onto the sidelines of the water. Sitting down, he snatched a pebble and watched the whistling waves.

Oliver only stood against it all, eying Vittorino without the rest of the world. “What’s this place?”

He threw the pebble into the water. “A place that no one’s lived in for 300 years. It’d be quiet, yeah?” The pebble skidded through the water for seconds’ count until dripping down below. 

Without a motivation, he joined the other. His shoes tipped at the edge of the water with temptation of dunking in. The water tickled his soles, but to none of his laughter. He stared down upon it and Vittorino’s pebbles. The gratifying wind of the land dissatisfied his unknown desires. As the wind carried his hair against his face, he turned to the bag by his hands, gaining closer to stain the sand underneath him. 

It was a bag of fulfillment, one that he could show off to himself and bask in the treasure. Such a fulfillment already engrailed in his stomach in which he obsessed over only minutes ago. Why would he like that, he asked. A mere worthless beast would crave such a fulfillment. Yet, the pit in his spirit craved to be rid of it, and told his arm to move. Staring blankly against the sky, his dried-up, bloody hand dipped into his mouth, creeping down to into his throat until he brought himself down to a gag and-

A hand grabbed his arm back, another trapping around his torso. “Don’t do that-” Vittorino struggled to speak. 

“No,” he wrestled back at him. Water leaped out of his eyes. 

“You’ll die, Oliver.”

“Please stop and leave me-” His spirit stopped at the final word, complete fear and pain returning at the thought of the word, the thought of the phrase. The sickening pit gouged his skin to an utter freeze. And the seeking of comfort finally returning him to a necessity. 

“Oliver…?”

“Take me to the street,” he said.

“The street?”

“You know which one,” he said.

Vittorino studied and loosened his grip, still grabbing hold. A small wave finally kicked and watered their feet, catching a small trickle of blood along the way. 

“… Okay.”

***

The comfort was writing on his journal, drabbles of lines sinking down into the corner without control of the page. He was curled up in his blankets, earbud wires attached in the abyss of his hair and the end of an MP3 player.

Oliver stood beside him in his distraction, bag in hand, until he finally turned around and saw.

He froze from his writing, eyes widening and blinking to a red tint. He stared up at his dead eyes, mouth agape and finding a word. But Oliver already knew what to begin with. 

“Let’s not talk about it.”

- 

Ten Dollars | Bread and Water | Red Eye | Crimson Capture | November 1st | A Mother | A Demon | A Child | The Wolf | Bloody Fingers | A Monochrome World | The Pocketwatch | I’ll Have My Day | Next >>>

[maikatc]

Black Sun Tale | A Child

we’re back baby !! and better than ever since boy does part two have a l o t. i was able to finish majority of the section during my hiatus and i hope you all love/feel so much pain in these events as much as i do!

remember this is only a first draft with only minor edits, but with that, enjoy! comments and reception are heavily appreciated

- 

This isn’t gonna end well. The thought repeated itself over and over as Oliver scraped a pencil against his paper. 

Birds chirped against the window. Their singing reached directly to his ears, and the office desk he worked on laid besides the porch’s side window. The sole reason being that his mother could gaze at the outside view to distract herself from paperwork, on purpose that is. 

The boy’s focus on his words didn’t bother to fix up the curtains, afternoon sun shining against his pale eyes. His sight burned though stomach pains numbed his entire body to even notice. 

A broken pocket-watch ticked at the side, breaking silence along with the birds. The out of time tune still held no bother to him.

The essay he wrote was… choppy, to say the least. Though, considering the class and grade he held, a childish essay would be an A in the gradebook. 

He swapped through previous drafts and desktop computer facing him. The paper was almost done in his eyes. 

He mumbled as he typed, “That’s why the cotton chine was just as important as anything else during the old ages… print.”

The events of the week prior lingered in his mind. In his head, Ayu’s decision must’ve already been a rejection. No doubt entered his mind on the option. 

His mind etched on returning to the boy’s home, even after failing to realize said boy’s problems and risking his life in the process. 

Then again, Ayu also didn’t kill him on the spot. And the more he thought, the image of Ayu’s concerned face, his eyes drooping and mouth bitten down as he gave a hand to him, it stuck to Oliver with the sole words, 

“I’m not gonna leave you alone like this.”

… Paying back wouldn’t be so bad.

The printer beeped as a message rang in his phone buzzed for a message. He flinched at both sounds going off, growling as he picked up the phone first. 

The messaged revealed to be from his mother, 

I’m going to be back from work later than usual, sorry about that 

But I prepped some food for you to have for dinner luckily! Hope you have a good day (11:54pm)

Oliver stared at the words. The brightness of the small text glimmered in his eyes.

He sighed, chucking the phone at cushioned chair in the corner. The traffic outside died down at the moment, leaving only the birds and clock to sing. 

He shook off the day-old struggle and grabbed his paper from the printer. 

***

“Oliver.”

“Hm?”

“How do you think of life right now?”

A small boy laid on his bed, barely reaching four feet. He played along with a new gift from his mother. His miniscule hands sored from the nylon after playing for long. 

He lifted his head towards the boy across him, viewing his stature with his bowl-cut bangs and big green eyes.

The boy stood there, arms crossed. His skin was pale as a sheet. He covered up his left eye with his snow-white hair, while the other eye studied him with an ocean blue. 

The streets outside bustled with noise from an ongoing festival. Though, the boy sat back, secluded in his own home to listen through a dense window. 

“… What do you mean by that?”

He gestured at the window. “Your life… Do you like it?”

The boy tilted his head. “Of course, I do.”

“What do you even like about it?” He eyed him.

“Well,” the boy set down his instrument, setting his fingers to count. The left hand carried multiple papercuts from reading over and over. “I like my friends. I like my mom. School’s fun since people say I’m smart… I like T.V. and things I get and-”

The white-headed interrupted him with a short chuckle. “You like things, just like every kid I suppose.” He turned, pacing around the room. 

The boy only sneered, “Wouldn’t you get that though?”

“… I assume so, yes. But it’s interesting to see kids grow to be so… people-caring. A shame for you and others.”

“What’s there to shame?” 

“I-” the white-headed stammered. “It’s not so much to worry about.”

He avoided the boy’s eyes.

“Just… be careful when I’m not here.”

***

Another day on the streets, Oliver walked his way to a certain alley, ukulele in hand yet again. 

The weather blew against his cardigan that day. Fall leaves flew left and right in fury, breezing past his hair and shoes in seconds. 

Cold sweats dripped down his head. He paced and fidgeted during crosswalks. 

He’s going to hate me. I’m gonna be a monster to him. 

Thoughts kept spurring in his head. He itched towards his ukulele strap. His stomach cried all the same. 

“Shut up,” he muttered, drifting off in the streets. That is, until he stepped towards the crosswalk of Pierdeli Avenue. 

There stood a stubby woman. Her blue gown shined in beauty against the others standing, while her blonde hair laid kempt against her peachy shoulders. She stared at the cars with avid eyes, ignoring all those around her as they ignored her back. 

However, Oliver stopped his steps as he approached her. He recognized her even from a blurry memory. “Alice… Are you here to talk with me some more?”

She blinked and shook her head. “Oliver! Forgive me for not noticing you pass by. The auto-mobiles are just fascinating to observe even after so long.” She gawked at the speeding car getting chased by the police. She ignored the police and went on. “And yes. I wished for more time with you and was just granted with all the free time in the world.”

A tacked-on smile was plastered to her face. “Right…” I get the cars, at least. 

“Are you in a rush?” She faced him. 

Oliver stuttered at the attention. “No, no. Not really.” He dug his hands to his pockets. “But you can still walk with me.”

“Ah, I see,” She nodded. Her excitement over the cars dying down by the second. “Pardon my intrusion then.” 

The crosswalk light turned green as those surrounding them passed through. Oliver and Alice followed thus. 

Her gaze continued looking over toward the streets as they walked in silence. Oliver’s words almost quivered out of his lips, though he hesitated for what to start with. 

“Alice?”

“Yes,” she piped up.

“What exactly is going on with me?”

She stifled. “That’s…” sighing, “that’s what I expected you to ask, truly.” 

“It was obvious, wasn’t it?” Oliver scoffed at her words. His eyes dabbled to the building walls, avoiding her expression over the answer. 

“I can somewhat explain the factors; however, I’m still restricted on telling every detail…”

The boy pinched up, still ignorant of her face. He ordered, “Just tell me what you can.” 

“Alright.” A hint of an accent could be heard from Alice, Oliver noted. British was all he could guess. Her voice gave a softer yet stern tone than his sweetly outgoing mother. Her voice was a different subject to focus on however, as he immediately snapped back once she began to speak again. “You… must do what you’ve already done for the rest of your life, I’m afraid. You’ll suffer more than just death if not.”

Her words were tense, as if her throat squeezed them out. They didn’t hit Oliver on impact, though his heart froze all the same. “There’s no way of stopping it, is there?” 

She held back with an answer, only for her to breathe out, “No. There’s nothing at all.” 

Alice kneeled down to him, halting Oliver midway in a mild-crossing sidewalk. People passed by the two of them with no batted eyes. She held him by the shoulders and focused on his eyes with her pale blue. 

“Please believe me when I say this: None of this is your fault. You have the full right to blame this on me and my selfish actions or- God, I can’t even say his name.” She looked off with a painful smile. “Just- It was my own hasty actions that led this to happen. I’m deeply regretful and I apologize to the bottom of my heart… Do you understand?” 

“I…” Fifteen seconds for an apology speech wow- “Yes. Yes, I do- Ma’am?”

The woman took her hands off his shoulders to hold his hands. She mumbled while staring down, “I know you must despise yourself; and I’m sorry for that as well.” 

Oliver squirmed at the interaction. He leaned back as she froze to her own space. “Well uh…” his attention wavered, “no shit.”

She chuckled, letting go and standing up again. “Now, even if we’ve just met, you shouldn’t speak fowl words around me. I’m still your mother after all.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he mumbled, “’Isn’t that surprising that you try and censor me.” 

They both took more steps together. Alice affirmed to him, “I’m only trying my best. After all, I haven’t been able to for the past eleven years…”

“… Why’d you put me in the foster homes?” 

“That was someone else’s idea,” she instantly replied. “But I wanted you to at least have some kind of normality for the first years of life.” 

Oliver’s face dulled. “And I’m guessing you weren’t ‘allowed’ to talk to me then?” 

She nodded with no other explanation to her answer. 

Oliver groaned. He took a breath to ask another question. “So, if you really are my mom, then where’s my dad? Wouldn’t he have something to do with this?”

“He’s…” she looked back, “not here anymore.” 

“Oh, okay.” He replied to her with a calm stance, walking off without much of a reaction. “Kinda like the family I’m in now then.” 

“Pardon?”

“My adoptive mom’s a widow too. My dad’s death was the reason she adopted me in the first place.”

“I see…”

“What happened to my actual dad then? Did he die from old age or something?” After all, Vittorino said you were ancient.

“Oh, no!” Alice exclaimed, “He didn’t pass from that. We were both similar to immortals. He simply passed due to circumstances.”

Circumstances…?

“Still,” she added, baring a faint smile, “your father was a great man. A bit of a dunce so to say, though endearing at best.”

Her smile brought Oliver to a suspicious stare. “… Why can’t I know so much about this?” 

“Why?” She sighed. “Our leader doesn’t want you to discover much so fast. That’s all there is. However, you’ll be able to figure out many things as time goes along.”

Well, that’s helpful.” He chewed on his lip. “You know Vittorino, right?”

“Of course, I do. I’m the reason he watches over you.” 

“What situation are you in that led you guys to know each other?” 

“Oh… you have the first half at least.” She cleared her throat, taking a breath. “We’re both a part of a society that lets you be immortal. Though, in exchange, we have to kill somebody once a month; otherwise, we’ll be executed.”

Oliver froze. “I’m sorry, what-”

“I understand it’s absurd. Our leader himself is absurd, after all,” she jeered. “But at least he gave us a ‘break’, so to say, on that.” 

“You’ve killed people too, then?” 

“Yes.” 

“And is that why my dad died?”

Her lips pinched together. “… yes.”

An awkward silence held them apart. The large crowds chattering away covered up their distance. 

 “There are two groups in our society.” Alice continued what she started. “There aren’t many First Eras left… We hated what we were doing, enough to kill ourselves. I’m one of the last ones, and the leader’s aide all the same.” 

“How many of you are there left?”

“Five, including myself.” Her voice held no emotion with the statement. Oliver gulped at the amount. 

“Then,” he shrugged off the concept, “what about the group?” 

“Second Eras? They’re stranger to say the least. Our leader took most of them in when they were mere children, so they were raised to believe murder was moral enough.” She added, “They’re all disturbed. And Vittorino was the first of that era.” 

Oliver raised a brow at her. “If you say he’s disturbed, then why do you leave one of ‘em to check up on me?” 

Alice answered without a thought. “He was older than most when being taken, so he has a bit more sense to him than the others. Besides, he was the only one willing to out of boredom and favors. I would’ve gotten someone I trust more if she wasn’t an arse about it.”

“So Vittorino was a prick but was more willing than the other prick?”

“Practically.”

Oliver chuckled at her last comment. Though, it crossed his mind that a certain street faced him. 

“Um, Alice?”

“I’m about to get to the place I’m going.” He pointed at Ayu’s street. “So, can you go…?”

She opened up with an, “Oh!” adjusting her hair. “Of course, I can.” She began to walk away from him. 

“Goodbye then,” she waved, “I hope to see you soon.”

“Yeah,” he hesitantly waved back.  “Thanks for the info.”

She disappeared with the crowds; Oliver stared in the distance. The answer he’d gotten in the walk boggled his thoughts. His mother was at least readable, yet restricted all the same. 

The puzzle of his origins still floated in the air, close enough to reach, it was just a ‘leader’ that blocked out the useful pieces. 

“Who the hell is the guy anyways,” Oliver muttered.  Well, a dick out of anything. 

He shrugged it off, along with the prior conversation as Ayu’s alleyway stood right in front of him. 

In a turn, Oliver peeked through the opening with browned moss. Inside the small home, a lump sat in the middle of the ground. 

Oliver tilted his head at the figure, bewildered. “Guess they’re not here…” He entered without another thought, pondering over the little lump. 

It bared small little cloth fuzz that moved off from the gentle winds. Oliver leaned over for a closer look; its appearance began to manifest. From ahead, the lump formed to shape. And at the end of the wrapped-up figure was a big tuff of black hair brushing against Ayu’s dry skin.

Oliver backed up from his observations after realizing the lump was just Ayu. The boy fidgeted from his blanket as he slept. Murmurs filled Oliver’s ears. He didn’t bother trying to translate the sloppy whispers, instead sitting down by the sleeping boy. 

Settling his bag, he grabbed his ukulele and began tuning. It didn’t take long for him to start strumming. The notes took him off-course from his mental state. It only took the matter of a few chords to bring some satisfaction. 

He glanced around at his surroundings while playing. Ayu’s blanket seemed too thin and worn to get any good sleep; his calendar flew left and right that it was only a matter of time until it fell out its tape; and a small journal laid next to Ayu’s sleeping body, right there in the open. 

Oliver put his playing at a halt. He placed his instrument down with careful sound, replacing it with the journal. He glanced down at Ayu with weary eyes. Though, after no signs of waking up, Oliver sneered at himself. He turned, hiding the journal from Ayu’s sight, opening it up to read through anything humorous. 

First pages: Hilarious. Each held lackluster art. Long torsos, disturbing eyes, no feet, and anything else that could make a drawing off. The scribbles on the side left the artist looking illiterate. Oliver skimmed through it all with puffs of laughing breaths. 

However, as the pages went on, the boy encountered pages full of sloppy writing. He squinted his eyes to get at least the beginning of some, though ultimately had to skip to recent pages for better handwriting. 

The dates counted for every day. Each day held for every time he did nothing, when he made something new, when he failed, anything. And with almost all entries, there would be a continuous statement: “No Akeldama.”

… Who’s Akeldama?

I havent seen Lillie in a whyle.

Who’s Lillie?

Annette told me that theres bin area deths in the forest for a whyle now 

… shit-

The journal was taken from his grasp. He flinched in shock and above him stood Ayu with the item. “What are you doing?”

“I uh-” Oliver’s eyes shifted to the abandoned blanket. “When did you even wake up?” I didn’t even notice him walking. 

“A minute ago. But what are you doing with this?” His raspy voice set a colder tone than usual. His red glare shook Oliver up. 

“I was just waiting for you to wake up and got curious. Your drawings look cool!” 

Ayu frowned with skeptic eyes. He rolled his eyes, yawning, and sat by Oliver. “Fine then.”

“I wanted you to sleep. You don’t seem to get much of it anyways with the traffic.” 

“It’s alright, Oliver, really.” 

… 

“I wanted to talk to you,” Oliver started, “about what happened last week. A bit more straightforwardly at least.” 

“I’d figure.” He huffed an awkward chuckle. 

“But- uh…” Oliver avoided the boy’s eyes, words couldn’t fill the air. In the midst of his pause, a brief sight of Ayu’s legs reminded him. They were still skinny to the bone as always. “My mom left me food to cook… and I know you need it more than I do.”

His eyes held Oliver with confusion: lowered lips and a blank stare. “So, you want to talk at…?” 

“My house. I’ll make the food myself,” God, I hope this is good. “You can shower and wash your clothes first if you want, since I can tell you need some cleaning.”

“I… thanks.” A blush tickled his face. Oliver peered at the dark red against his pale skin. Strange. “I don’t really wanna be an annoyance to you but-”

The boy snapped out of his stare. “It’s okay! It’s okay! You’re struggling like me so it’s the least I can do.”

“Then,” Ayu stood up, padding his dry, open skin, “shouldn’t we get going?”

A blank stare stroke Oliver in a hesitant essence. Nonetheless, he followed. “Um, yeah!” 

***

Smoky air blew against the heat fan. Oliver’s eyes focused solely on the meal cooking on the pan. Ayu sat on the side fresh out of the shower and wash. He curled up in his tall seat as he sipped upon a cup of water. They both avoid each other’s eyes; They both allowed the sounds of oil burning up to play over them.

Oliver hesitated speaking. His past thoughts reoccurred to him. 

Even if I excuse anything, it’s not like he’ll change his mind.  

“What’re you making?” Oliver passed the question off until realizing it was Ayu. He twisted his head back. Ayu still stared at the cup he held. “It smells good.”

“It’s just lemon pork tenderloins. My mom usually gives me pork stuff for me all the time since it used to be my favorite.” He answered with a blank tone, without any joy in his eyes as he cooked. 

“Isn’t that stuff hard to make?”

“Not really,” Oliver noted, “Cooking’s pretty easy for me; but that’s inconvenient at best.” He tried to make a stuttered laugh, though he missed the idea of food tasting as good as back then. 

They both took another pause. 

“You don’t know how to cook yourself, Ayu, don’t you?”

“No… I was usually just given junk food anyways.” 

“Then,” he lowered the stove heat, “here, I can show you.”

A skeptical tone overtook him. “You want me to cook?” 

“No, I’m going to help you.” Oliver reassured him. So, then you don’t burn the house down. He went off from the stove and set his hands on the table that stood in front of Ayu. “It’ll just be the cooking part of it. That’s easy enough, right?”

“But isn’t that the part where I can burn the house down, like you said?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on it.” He set aside Ayu’s cup from his hands. “This is how I was taught so you’ll be fine.” 

***

“So… you just gotta wait ‘til it’s brown?”

The last tenderloin was tossed in the fryer as Ayu asked for once. 

“Yes,” Oliver answered. He glared at the one’s Ayu cooked on the side, “Not until they’re charred.” 

“I guess that’s easier to follow than cutting it up to see if it’s red inside.” 

Oliver bit his lip. “Yeah, I guess that’s more of a chicken thing than pork… but I just grew the habit of being safe.” 

Ayu shrugged. “If it’s edible, I’ll eat it.” 

“Even a human?” 

Ayu frowned at the joke. “There’s a limit.” Oliver’s chest tightened at the mistake. 

“… We’re still not gonna talk about that now.” 

“Yeah, yeah…” he mumbled, staring at the meat in the pan. 

Ayu’s wet hair had started to dry out. It puffed up to the same shape it was before. The hair kept Oliver distracted for the silent seconds. His hand reached to touch a small tuff, stroking for a short moment. It’s just soft. “Your hair’s weird.” 

His eyes blinked once or twice. “What?”

“Well, it’s long enough to make you look like a girl,” he snorted.

Ayu pulled his hair in front of him. It blocked half of his face. “Shut up. It’s hard to find a way to cut it good by yourself.”

Oliver noted, “That and even when washed, it looks like a puffball.”

“Okay, that’s just how my hair works.” 

Oliver gave a small huff of a chuckle. “I’ll get you gel sometime then. It’s distracting-”

“No, don’t get gel,” Ayu retorted, “Annette tried it on my once and I thought it was gross.” 

“Why gross…?

“My hair felt like greasy stone, that’s why.” 

“… Ayu, that’s the point.”

“Then I don’t like that point.” He grabbed the spatula and plopped the last tenderloin on the serving plate. “I think it’s done.”

Oliver’s eyes widened. “Huh, that one actually looks pretty good.” 

“Just give me more simple directions next time then,” he grumbled.

Oliver sat with his mouth shut. Ayu faced directly next to him. He watched as the boy stuffed himself with everything made. 

Oliver was greeted with nothing in front of him. There laid empty space: no plate, no food, only a fork he toddled with his hands.  

“Damn, this was great…” He mumbled with a full mouth. 

“Like my mom says, even when ruined, it’ll still taste great.”

A whack slammed to Oliver back. His voice squeaked, “Motherfu- that hurt!”

Ayu snorted. “Sorry. Just don’t roast me like that.”

Oliver glared at him. 

“Still, tell your mom that I like the recipe.” He took another bite. 

Oliver dropped his fork against the table after seconds of no conversation. He tensed himself with his words, “About last week, on my birthday…”

Ayu glanced back in confusion, then swallowing and facing down. “Y-yeah…”

No words were said yet again, only an apparent atmosphere of the topic in the air. Oliver prayed to not choke on it. 

No, it doesn’t have to be now.

He stammered, “You know what? Let’s not focus on that right now.”

Ayu blinked. “Wait what?”

“We can just talk about that later; we have all day!” The boy forced a curve on his lips. 

Ayu stuttered, “Uh sure-”

“What shows do you- did you watch before all of that?”

“… Hm,” he scratched on the dry skin on his cheek, “My family didn’t watch that much. Just VHS movies and Crimson stuff on Saturdays, I think. I just played around with someone most of the time…”

“Oh yeah, you mentioned Crimson.” Oliver hopped down from his seat.

He shrugged. “I watched them the most out of anything.” He smiled while staring at the air. “They were just cool and people made ‘em cooler, yanno?”

“Sure,” Oliver replied without a thought. As Ayu talked, he walked to the TV, setting up the DVR. “I was never really into that stuff, but either way, you’re missing out.”

“I’ve been ‘missing out’ for four years actually.”

Oliver chuckled at the joke. “Well, ever heard of The Mr. Rious House?”

“Annette might’ve talked about it a little but no, not really.” He climbed out of his seat with careful steps on the stool.

“Oh, boy you’re in for a ride.” With only a press of a remote control, the television set played the crackles of thunder. Ayu jumped at the sound. 

“God, damn it- wait is that a dead body?”

Oliver sneered, “Yep, and this is a kid show’s first minute of the first episode.” 

“Well this is going to be… a thing.” Ayu sat down on the couch with wobbly knees. 

This’ll be fun.

“It won’t,” he hissed, curling up to his knees with an organ playing.

***

“This house isn’t fun.”

The third episode began to play. Oliver and Ayu had settled themselves on the couch with separate blankets, Ayu’s being thicker and covering his entire being. 

Oliver sat against the middle cushion. He enjoyed himself over the nostalgia of the first few episodes while glancing over at Ayu’s reactions ever so often.

It all consisted of him flinching and muttering words of help. Humorous to say the least.

“Just wait until you see Mr. Rious, Ayu. He’s the best character.”

He glared at the screen. “I don’t wanna see this man.”

“He’s a fun dad for Noll,” Oliver chuckled. “Wait, that’s a spoiler.”

The show continued to play and Oliver watched along the adventure. 

“What do you mean Rious still isn’t here? He hasn’t been in five years! What is this about him being my-”

“Oliver?”

The boy snapped back from his focus. “What is it?”

“You said you were adopted, right?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“How’re your parents then?”

“Oh.” Oliver hummed in consideration. “I just have an adoptive parent really. It’s me and my mom here.”

“Huh… Did you ever have a dad?” Ayu tilted his head down, curious eyes shining at Oliver.

“I apparently did before my mom took me in.” He leaned back. “He died and got my mom her career choice.” 

“Really?” The blanketed boy’s tone didn’t hold as much emotion as prior. “How’d that happen?”

“Simple. He killed himself during college years.” 

Ayu choked. 

“Now that’s the reaction I expected,” Oliver stated dully.

Ayu gawked, “You don’t just say someone killed himself like that, Jesus Christ-. I thought he just got in some accident or monster attack!”

Oliver shrugged. “My mom thought I was mature enough to tell me when I was younger and I think I’ve matured enough over the past years to talk about it… Probably the most fucked up thing I can say about myself without getting arrested.”

Ayu frantically blinked over and over. “Do- do you ever think about him? Or like, miss him or anything?”

Oliver scoffs. “That’s always the dumb question. I never even knew him; how would I miss him?” He ponders for a second. “Thinking is another thing.”

Ayu didn’t give a reply. The show played as they talked.

“Sure, it’s always interesting to hear about him, I guess. But I mostly just think about him in ‘what if’ scenarios.”

Ayu’s face gleamed with worry. “Like…?”

Oliver bit his lip, then took a breath. “Like what if I die like that?”

Ayu’s eyes widened. What did he expect? His mouth fell flat as he muttered. “I…”

“Noll! What are you even doing?”

“Look, I know I screwed up some times, but this’ll help, won’t it?”

“… Don’t?”

“What? Don’t die?” 

“Yeah…”

Oliver smiled. “Well, I’m pretty sure that’s been the plan for a while. ‘Least for my body and sub-conscious to say so-”

“Just don’t die, please.” Ayu tugged on Oliver’s blanket. “It’s a dumb thing to ask, but… it’s not fun.”

Oliver studied his expression hidden through his hair. It was torn with scared eyes staring and glimmering a vermillion again. His reaction begged the question: so, who did he have to deal with? But the boy pushed aside the conversation at the end of it. “Let’s keep watching.”

“I uh, yeah that ending scared me.” 

“Your reactions are some of the best. But did you really not expect Rious to do that?”

“Look I was hoping he’d be a funny, crazy guy,” Ayu retorted.

“You watch Crimson. Don’t they have screwed up villains in that?”

“Yeah but that was different. Crimson made them goofballs in the end!” 

Oliver just eyed him. “Did it really creep you out that much? You’ve definitely seen worse-”

“Yes, it did.” 

He laughed it off and transferred the topic. “I learned one of the themes on my uke. They were fun ones, weren’t they,” he teased.

“Shut up.”

Oliver sat up. “The song’s kinda slow but I did it.” He paced back to his room to grab his ukulele out of the case. In the corner of his eye, he peered his switchblade on the corner chair. A piercing in his bloody lip could suffice for the time being, so he stepped aside. He won’t come into this room anyways. 

He ran back to the living room where Ayu played with his now soft hair and sat back next to him. 

“Surprisingly the full version sounds really nice,” Oliver mumbled as he tuned up his instrument a bit. “Okay…” He took a breath before starting a set of chords. 

Overall, the protagonist’s theme laid great poetic-ness to the story as a well-meaning representation of his backstory and foreshadowing to come, at least in Oliver’s head. The theme was rather soft. The plucking of the strings following and drifting along one by one emerged the room in an echoing tragedy. Notes played to the tune of the mother’s lullaby of tender somber, and eventually, her words began. 

“If you sing me a lullaby,

Then maybe a love song too…

And one day, you’ll sing me a requiem,

And someday, they’ll sing yours too.”

Her song was a simple poem, not much substance in lyrics. The song held meaning in the story at least.

After some repetition, it took a few strums and tabs to finish the piece. 

“And that’s the song.” Oliver set down the ukulele while speaking. “It might be a little boring but who knows, my music tastes may just be boring.”

“You really sing good,” Ayu commented.

“Well, you mean, I sing well.”

“Shut the hell up,” Ayu pushed Oliver, nearly making the boy fall over from the force. “I hated grammar out of anything in school.”

“School’s pretty easy,” Oliver flaunted, striking a pose. “But I’ve also been told that I’m gifted in music.” 

“Oh yeah? Then stop being a show-off,” Ayu snapped back at him. 

“Sorry,” he replied, with no meaning expressed in his words and tone.

Oliver returned back to his ukulele to play with the strings. The tune he formed ended up being major somehow. Things are going well for now at least-

“Oliver, are we gonna talk?”

Great, I jinxed it. “Huh?”

“You said you were going to but… I guess you just wanted to distract yourself.” Ayu crawled closer to Oliver. 

The boy didn’t make any movement; he continued playing with a nod. 

“You… really don’t wanna talk about it.”

Another nod. 

“Look…” Ayu started. “I get this entire thing is fucked up. I still think it’s too fucked up for me to- allow it to get in my head. But I can still listen… I wanna be helpful for somebody for once. ‘Specially with that stuff you were saying earlier…” 

Oliver stayed quiet. 

Ayu sighed. “I’m sorry if I scared you there… Just say what you want.”

Oliver’s melody dwindled down each beat getting slower until a full stop. He breathed in and out before saying few words. “I can’t fix it if you were wondering.” 

“What?”

“I’m supposed to be like this, without a choice.” He took a pause. “I think I was a pretty big accident.”

Ayu’s face scrunched up. “I don’t think jokes are good for right now.”

Oliver rolled his eyes. “I can’t change or control it. And I may end up hurting both you and Annette so… I think it’s best that you guys stop hanging out with me. Like most people.”

Ayu curled up more into his blanket with pondering eyes. “… I’m not sure.”

“What do you mean you’re not sure-”

“You’re one of the only people I can actually talk to, Ollie. You look like a good guy too.” His stared up directed into Oliver’s gaze. “I don’t think you should give up on a possible answer just yet.”

“I,” Oliver stumbled on words. “I still wanna keep at least some distance.”

“How come?”

“Well, whenever I make friends, I end up screwing them over the worst way possible by accident so that’s a reason.”

Ayu blinked up again. Then realized. “Oh.” He made a crooked smile, brows faced with slight worry. “I’m pretty sure I’m strong enough, still.” 

Oliver’s face goes sour in doubt. 

“Oh yeah… how come you always wear that jacket?” Ayu tugs at the red cardigan. “Don’t you have more?”

“I do,” Oliver answered. “But I mainly use this one since blood stains are harder to find with this.”

Ayu cringes. “That… sucks.”

“It does.” Oliver tugged his left sleeve farther down. “It really does.”

Oliver looked over at the clock on the stove. He stood up and dragged Ayu to get up too. “You should get going. My mom’s gonna be here in an hour. Do you want me to take you?”

Ayu passed him off. “No, I’m fine. Thanks for bringing me over. I feel fresh, yanno?” He pulled up his newly cleaned jacket up to his nose, eying Oliver as he sniffed it. 

Is he trying to hide that? Oliver chuckled at the thought. “Yeah, I can tell.”

“Uhm, see ya later.” Ayu grinned as he shut the door. 

Oliver only muttered back his words; however, as soon as the door closed, he rushed to his room and jumped onto the bed. “Oh, thank God!”

“Thank Him for what?” Vittorino appeared against the wall like every day. 

“I have a dog’s nose and he doesn’t smell terrible anymore. Plus, he didn’t wanna kill me!”

“Oh, right. It wasn’t that surprising.” He snickered. “It’s been a week again, how’ve you been.”

“Shut your damn mouth; I almost forgot about it.”

“Hungry then,” he proclaimed. “Are you gonna eat soon?”

“Til I’m forced to, I’m not gonna.” The boy slugged himself off the bed to the switchblade on the chair. “Now, if you can please leave? I’m about to have a snack.”

He made his way to the bathroom routine. 

“Sure, fine. Just don’t drink too much. Alice’ll get mad at me again.” He disappeared as soon as he told. 

Oliver’s eyes narrowed. “I’m sure she will.”

-

Ten Dollars | Bread and Water | Red Eye | Crimson Capture | November 1st | A Mother | A Demon | Next >>>

[maikatc]

Black Sun Tale | Sleepover

here we are! the last chapter of part ii and the end of the first half of bst! it’s been a blast posting so far, i hope you know, and there’s only more to come after this. i’ll be posting the afternote tomorrow. 

remember this is a first draft with only minor edits, but enjoy! comments and reception are always appreciated. 

-

“Vittorino, are you there…?”

In the corner appeared a shadow as Oliver welled himself inside his blanket. “Obviously. I’m already here nowadays, aren’t I?”

Glistens of a first snow began falling on the late December night. Right by the window were speckles of white that he ignored through the covers. He only tightened his own covers over himself. “Please talk to me.” 

Vittorino rolled his head back. “Did you have a nightmare again?”

“No,” Oliver answered, “I’m just thinking about it again.”

“Is it too dark?” 

“Yeah.”

He stepped on over to the door, opening it without the shiver of a creak. “Do you want to go outside?”

Oliver stammered, “No, I don’t want Mom to wake up and find me gone.” 

“She won’t,” Vittorino assured. “I exist if you don’t remember.” 

“I’m aware but,” the staggering depth of his trouble poked him at every nudge of movement. “I’ve already left her enough as is, I feel like.” 

With a shake of the head, Vittorino explained, “Oliver, you haven’t seen anyone and have been staying inside talking to me throughout your entire break, and you’ve been freaking out the entire time.” He flicked Oliver’s tired nose. “You gotta go out once in a while. Talk to Ayu or something, you haven’t seen him for a month by now.”

“He’ll be upset that I haven’t seen him for that long and I don’t want to deal with that.” 

“And you stopped seeing him because you felt bad, yeah, yeah.” Vittorino groaned over the conversation. “But still, this isn’t the smartest thing for you to do.”

“Can’t I do how I feel?”

“How you’re feeling is contradictory every time.”  He yanked up Oliver’s covers as he curled up from reaction. “You need some air before you start panicking again.” 

Oliver’s body itched for warmth again, but still listened to Vittorino’s reasoning, albeit upset. He asked, “Is the patio good enough for you?”

“It’ll probably be enough to calm you down.”

He scrambled silently off his bed, waddling down and onto the hallway. 

Passing through pictures he wished to tear down, Vittorino followed from behind. Creaks tiptoed behind them through the short venture but Oliver ignored them. 

Entering the living room, there was a corner blocked by a small curtain next to the television. Oliver grabbed a tall seat from the side, placing it in front of the corner as he pulled back the curtains. A clear night sky shined against the patio door with glitters of the snow drifting down to the ground. 

He opened the heavy door, mental chills burrowing him from the weight but a natural wind meeting him. The cold was not a bother then, and he entered into the outside land of his house, greeting the cold with his own shivering heart. It rather heated him up. He placed the chair to the patio, decorated with some immortal ���fake– greens that accessorized from the falling white, as he watched the glowing city from afar. 

Street lights illuminated down below, shining against the then damp and sticking snow. Store lights also brightened the distance ahead along with cars taking last minute trips to the bar or back home once again. Smoke still arose through it all but it was a scent, not one that reeked of old metals and bodies. Well, perhaps it was, but in the open air at least. 

Oliver sat on the chair with his back slouching over, winds brushing against his hair and pajamas. His attention wavered with his thoughts that formed almost nothing. Though the silent liveliness of the city eased him enough for the time being. 

“It’s freezing out there,” Vittorino commented from the kitchen. “Are you that immune to things with eating?” 

Oliver shrugged. “Maybe, but that isn’t the best thing.” He turned back around to find Vittorino turning on the sink and stove. “What are you doing?”

Vittorino filled up a pot. “Making hot cocoa or whatever you guys call it. It’s nice, right?” 

Confused, Oliver nodded. “I guess but how do you know all that?” 

“I’ve been learning,” he replied, “that, and watching young people make two minute meals and snacks out of laziness also helps.” 

He stared at the experimentation, but shrugged it off from no poisoning to affect him. 

Once the beverages finished boiling, Vittorino carried two cups out and handed one to Oliver. The heat burned up his cool hands, trickling and waking up every sleeping fiber in his arms. Steam flowed above his face as he stared at the cup, it’s chocolate defining itself with its lovely brown. 

“Are you better now?” Vittorino sat by the corner of the patio, shaking in the corner of Oliver’s eyes but without a worry of the cold. 

“I guess but…” He sipped the drink already, stabbing his tongue through the freshness. And he sighed from barely any reaction from a pain or a taste. “I’ll never like this.”

Vittorino glared against the lights at him. “If you’re not talking about the cocoa, be specific.”

“You know what I mean,” Oliver scoffed. “Sure, I haven’t really been starving anymore, but why does it turn out like this?”

“Like what,” he asked.

“Like,” gripping his cup, he explained, “now that I’m eating, after all the pain and torture all this shit brought, everything feels fine.”

“Well, yeah. You’re eating for once.” 

“That’s the problem: I shouldn’t be.” He chugged the searing liquid down without recoil. “And instead of having any sort of downfall to this, I– this is happening!” He gestured at the empty cup and snow aggressively. 

“Oh, your new stuff.” Vittorino sat back in his arms and apartment wall. “We all figured you’d get some immunities at some point with it.”

Setting down the cup, Oliver rolled his eyes. “So, you guys figured that after being ‘okay’ with cannibalism, I wouldn’t be cold or burn myself. Or I wouldn’t feel pain and heal from almost everything in a few minutes and–”

“Yeah, you’ve always been able to do that apparently, it’s just that you never ate well enough to figure it out.” He smirked at him. 

In the moment, Oliver stepped out of the chair, locking his arms against the patio handrail. Vittorino’s comment pierced him somewhere, to guess the least. He said, “Regardless of that, I think it’s just gotten worse.” 

Vittorino’s mouth held shut. 

“We’re here right now because of why I’m even eating.” His eyes lowered, snow dusting on his healing arms. “It’ll never be right like this.” 

“… Do you want to go back?”

“No,” he answered as an instinct. “I wanna stay here a little longer.”

Vittorino lagged in response. “Alright. But keep the light on once we get back.”

Oliver nodded while the speckles in his face melted without a flinch. 

***

A daily walk consisted of few things: go somewhere new, parks are forbidden, and staying is deemed confinement. The rules set Oliver to his mild, albeit anxious, comfort as he ventured on to landscapes or tourist traps he never bothered to visit prior. 

Trips remained unknown for Oliver, including the one of that very day. Snow managed to pile up throughout the hours leaving a white cityscape in Obodo. Aside from some tourists, streets were abandoned from the clumped sidewalks and ice; stores locked themselves in, leaving dark but covered up spaces left and right. Oliver avoided completely dead streets, but played with the piles around him. 

Every other minute, a new ball of snow gathered in his hands in attempt to freeze them. Oliver picked up a new piece, same chills creeping as before. Though, the more it melted into freezing water, the more his hands remained the same. 

He sighed at every failure, but went on. 

Another gust of the mild storm breezed through Oliver’s coat. No shiver came out of him aside from the distraction of his coat flying. However, at the sight of those around him, they all wreathed into their own jackets. His ears twitched at their wincing and laughing at their adventures, as typical tourists did. 

It’s gotta be cold, right? He tucked his jacket together, huffing his breath to a white mist. Perhaps the icicles from headings above could fall upon him to feel some kind of bother. The fact the that ice formed that sharply truly showed the temperature however. And the groups laughing at the weather began to bother him. 

He glared at the ones that shivered. They shouldn’t even be outside. They’ll freeze to death. He thought. 

But then, the image of a boy in a blanket appeared in his mind, and he himself froze in his mental stead. 

“Fuck,” he yelped, as he jumped into a run. He dashed at the opposite end of the road and onto the way of the alley. “I’m actually an idiot,” he huffed. His own legs swifted faster than he processed his direction. Yet, despite the lack of focus, his steps avoided all the ice surrounding him, and dodged the obstacles with ease. Such a nature seemed normal for him, but not at his speeds. Not that he cared at the moment. 

Swears puffed out of his breath during his snow-filled run at every second. But as soon as he started, the soon he found the boy once again. Trapped in a worn, wet blanket, tugging as tightly as he could. 

He shook, every movement from his turning head and freezing eyes shook. His breath frosted once it met the air as he whimpered in his paler skin, “Help.”

“Shit!” Oliver run to him, tossing up his cardigan over. “Ayu, I’m so sorry– Ah,” his emergency mode fluctuated in panic. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he gasped. “I couldn’t do anything about it.”

“But I could’ve.” Wrapping the cardigan snuggly around him, he grabbed him up. “I’m taking you to my house. Right now. You need to get warmed up.” 

“But you don’t have to–”

“Ayu.” He stated, “I do.” And he dragged him along by the hand, to Ayu’s reluctance. 

***

The tub welled-up steam across the hallway. A hot bath was inevitable after at least some time of warming up. Though, while Ayu’s relaxation period occurred, Oliver sat beside the bathroom door, head down and leaning back. 

“I can’t believe I didn’t think about you freezing again,” Oliver repeated. 

Rolling around in the bath, Ayu loafed on the side while replying to him. “Don’t worry, it happens every year.” He sneezed from the contrast of heat on his skin. He continued to sink into the warm water. “Still, this is great.” As selfish as that might be, he thought.

He played around in the water for some time. Splashes still seemed entertaining from when he was little. Oliver stayed quiet, but the bath led Ayu to not mind at the slightest. If only bubbles were in his sight, then he would have formed another army in his mind against darkness-loving enemies. An entire battle would commence for his own fun. 

“Haven’t you ever thought of going to Annette’s house or something when it’s too cold,” Oliver asked. His body continuously tensed as Ayu made his enjoyment. 

Yet, Ayu never thought much of the question. “Not really. She didn’t want her dads to find out about me if I was a klutz, and she didn’t wanna keep me in her closet all night. So, she just tried giving me as much as she could with whatever time she had.” 

Oliver looked back into his room with a spacious bed left unattended. “You haven’t been in any rooms during the winter, huh?” 

Balancing his hand on the water, he replied, “Yeah. And most stores and stuff are closed during storms anyways.” 

Oliver gripped himself. The mixture of guilt and sympathy brought his mouth to offer, “Why don’t you sleep here tonight?”

“What?”

He walked on over to the entrance of his room while bare of his cardigan. The window packed itself in white form the outside. “It’s not gonna stop snowing anytime soon, and tonight’s gonna get worse.”

“It won’t be as bad as two years ago,” Ayu commented in shivering memories.

Oliver’s memory of that blizzard never correlated. “Well, it’ll still be bad. And I’ll let you in for a couple nights if you need it, I guess.”

“Oh,” he paused his water games, “That sounds nice.” 

“It’s supposed to be.” 

But with a certain reminder, Ayu fumbled with his words. “Wait, what about your mom?”

Though, Oliver scoffed at the question. “Ayu,” he started with a grin, “if Vittorino can wander around this place without my mom noticing, you probably can too.”

“… Where would I be sleeping?”

Oliver turned back around to his own bed and shrugged. “We’ll shared one. My bed’s big enough.” He stepped back into the edge of the bathroom door. “We can do whatever before tonight, but how do you think of it?”

The offer shined in a grand presence for Ayu’s mind. The warmness of the waters also dipped itself into the offer in a convincing fashion. With the two and many other reasons looming over himself, he sighed in relief. “I’ll go with it.”

“Well, that’s great.” Stretching up, Oliver hid his internal glee, only known for a single reason. “I’ve been needing some interaction that isn’t from psychos.” He went on over to the kitchen and began the food for the day. 

“This is the first time I’ve slept over with anybody before…”

“Same here,” Oliver replied. The boxes in the cabinets held all kinds of labels he pictured for a meal. However, he figured sickness could arrive at any moment, and reached up the chicken broth at the corner with the tip of his toes. 

“Do you know what to do for it?”

He said back, “No idea. Just stuff from movies.”

Ayu chuckled. “That’s better than me.”

The broth poured into a pot as Oliver turned on the stove. “So, how long are you thinking of staying in the tub?”

Ignoring the mild pruning, Ayu dipped his hands in the warm waters again. “A little longer. It’s cozy.”

“Hopefully you don’t pass out in there,” Oliver joked. “One time, I passed out in the shower because of how hungry I was! …”

They both realized and remembered the context of the sentence, shying away from the casual cheeriness of the talk. 

“I… woke up with wet hair still,” he tried to continue. His mind cringed at how normal he had put it again.

“Well… You’re… uh–”

“Just don’t answer that.”

“Gotcha.” 

***

The wistful snowstorm continued to blow against the uncovered windows in the living room, filling up the balcony as only a white lump.

The broth and noodles Oliver made melted into Ayu’s mouth while warmed up by a towel for his hair.

Oliver sat beside him on the stools. The other’s eating bringing him to a ponder of having a snack, despite how ugly that would appear. However, there was still a beckoning silence that bothered him. After so long of disconnection, words tempted him to hear more. “So, how’s the last month been,” he asked, ignoring his own disappearance for the time. 

“Not much, like usual,” he said. “I’ve been practicing more poetry like you said, but the snow’s been covering my journal.” 

“Still sorry.”

“Still don’t have to worry about that.”

A pout sprouted from Oliver’s cheeks. “Fine. But would that mean that your sketchbook’s ruined now?” 

He shook his head while sipping broth. “It’s a special one Annette got me for my birthday. It’s waterproof. Any other stuff I have over there might be dead though.”

Lowering eyes of guilt, Oliver dawdled his fingers on the table, fresh with no scars. “Do you want to go get them right now? Or after you eat?”

He answered, “I don’t think we’d be able to dig through the snow piles right now.”

“Well… I’m sturdy,” Oliver argued.

“I am too, but it’s cold.”

“Not for me.” An impressed reaction was guaranteed by that point.

Ayu smiled. “I don’t think you’d want to leave a dumbass alone in your apartment.”

“You’re not that dumb,” he scoffed. “But I wouldn’t want to just leave you alone in general again.” 

“I’m used to it.”

“And that’s not a good thing.” Oliver walked over to the office room, snatching up papers and returning to the table. “You can still write or draw here if you want.”

The paper stared back at Ayu with its blank slots. He gulped and pulled back his soup from the white pages. “I’ll… think about it.”

Oliver curved his face. “Why think?”

He replied, “I’ve been wanting to hang out with you for a while. It’d be distracting.”

“Oh…” He pulled back his hair in embarrassment. “Then, I guess you wouldn’t want me playing music?”

Ayu shook his head. “That’s fine. I like hearing you,” he rasped. 

The words fluttered in Oliver’s ears but its dryness was the only distraction. He scrambled to give him a cup of water in response. “You need to hydrate more.” He mumbled, “and I should check for fever…”

The concern bored Ayu, though he sipped on the dull –albeit refreshing– water while Oliver ran off to the bathroom cabinets. “So, how’ve you been doing?”

“Shitty, as usual,” Oliver responded as he tiptoed his grasp of the thermometer. Though, he reluctantly gave up soon after in sigh. What am I kidding? “This time it’s been different though.”

Ayu himself sighed from the normality. “Eating I’m guessing?”

He replied, “They’re putting me on diet.” 

“Is it helping?”

“… Yeah. A lot.” Oliver brushed aside his own looks from the mirror. “I’ve been able to practice magic a little easier.”

Curiosity brushed Ayu’s ears. “What kind of stuff are you doing?”

He came back to him in the conversation. “Well, Alice told me I had like two powers from my dad, but she’s only teaching me one right now that sucks.” 

The number and basis rang in Ayu’s mind. However, the details of his questions scratched themselves out as well. “What are they?”

Oliver shrugged in the topic, answering, “The cool one’s shapeshifting.”

In awe, Ayu slammed his drink down. “So, does that mean you can turn into whatever?”

“Didn’t ask for details, but I guess that’s the definition. It’s the harder one to learn though.” 

The excitement died down from Oliver’s answer, though more possibilities still remained. “Then what’s the other one?”

“… Invisibility.” 

“What? That’s cool too.” 

Oliver retorted, “Not when all you know how to do is make your scars disappear.” 

Ayu’s face flattened in reaction of the reminder. “Wouldn’t you want to forget about it?” 

“Well– yeah. But not like this.”

Ayu sighed. “I’ll… leave you on that for now.” 

“Thanks.” Oliver bit his lip, thinking of a disruption of any silence. “What do you wanna do after you eat?”

“Dunno…” Ayu nommed on another noodle. “Maybe we can play a game.” 

A twitch touched Oliver’s spine in memory of the pains from the playground. He laughed gently in defense, “I’m not the biggest fan of games, really.”

“It doesn’t have to be any hard games.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolled his eyes in a cheeky grin, “What are you thinking then?”

They played whatever Ayu came up with his imagination, some with names only Oliver recalled. From many losses to many close-to victories, Ayu enjoyed himself throughout their time. Though, Oliver pinpointed all of the necessary moves to win for all of the simple games yet again. Despite the easy conditions however, he stayed down for the other, and for him to have some joyous moments of victory. 

With no other ideas in mind afterwards, special films on television became the next best option in Ayu’s interest. During the comedies, they both conversed and poked fun –though Ayu’s fun being less evaluative– as Oliver studied tunes for it all. A calming afternoon eased them both.

***

“… Why did he have to die?”

“’Cause that’s what the plot said.”

“But they didn’t need to do that!” Ayu slammed his pillow. “I liked him… whatever his name was.” 

Oliver closed his book for school and shrugged. “They kill people off to move the story along. Motivate some characters, make character growth, whatever. Maybe make a statement, who knows.” He peeked through the final page of his book for once, cheating to figure out the ending only for a lame, vague idea.

He glared back at him. “That’s shitty growth.” With a glumming face, he grabbed the remote and switched channels.

“Hey, can you check the time?”

“Uh, I think.” A click of the remote was tricky for determining what would occur. However, the luck Ayu gained from opening the menu screen was relieving enough. And luckily, he read numbers and told the time on the screen.

In an instant, Oliver set his book down. “Goddamn it, I need a watch–”

Ayu watched him as he tossed all of the blankets and pillows thrown around during their fun away where they once were. The messy but neat equilibrium of the folds and stacks baffled him, but he had to ask, “Why’re you doing this.”

The obviousness threw Oliver’s tone off. “My mom’s coming in like two minutes at this point and this mess is something I can’t explain when home alone.” 

An immediate thought that appeared in Ayu’s head was Alice however he already knew to cut that short. “Do you want me to help?”

“No, I can get this done pretty quick. And, you probably don’t know what to do, huh?” 

Ayu nodded. 

Thinking it over, Oliver reminded himself of a specific trait. “No one can see you right?” Another nod. “You can stick here then. Just don’t try and mess around.” 

A crooked mouth laid on Ayu’s face, but he remained tugged on his pillow and sat beside Oliver’s cleaning. Thoughts loomed over him again however, and it begged him to ask, “Are you sure you don’t want me to do something?”

He hummed. “Nah, you probably need to rest out of anything.”

“Right…” Despite the disappointment in both the activity and himself, his mind zoned himself out of the situation for some time. Blank splotches of thoughts scattered in his vision, similar to others as of late. Blacks and whites blanketed any of his creative drive or visions. And with such an empty mind, all he could muster in his silence was stare at the one seemingly organized from their mess. 

The door rang up once the final pillow was set in place. The clacking of the apartment’s entrance caught into Ayu’s ears and he shifted his attention up from his stare. Casually, a young woman entered with hefty bags by her side. “Oliver! I brought home some food!” She called out into the hall. 

Oliver was already back on the couch by that point. “You’re blind. I’m right here.”

Placing the bags down on the counter, she pulled back her bleached hair and blinked back at Oliver’s direction. “You’ve been growing more sass lately.” 

For so short of time, Oliver glanced at Ayu from the side only to return to the mother’s sight. He shrugged back at her. “I guess that’s what break’s doing to me.” A hop out of the couch and into the table later, Oliver adjusted to the somewhat new environment and asked the question, “What did you get?”

“Seafood grill,” she popped out a meal from one of the bags, “because why not?” 

Oliver grabbed another portion of the dinner from the bags, skeptical eyes peering out. “Are you getting into one of your craving-phases again?” 

The mother popped a piece of a platter into her mouth. Though, the scent made Ayu himself crave such foreign goodness. “I’m trying not to this time since shrimp’s too expensive.” 

Laughing back in a reply, Oliver assured both her and Ayu, eying him as he said, “I’ll try and repress that then,” and he snagged majority of the items from the bag. 

“Why thanks,” she replied with a humored tone. 

Please don’t eat too much, please don’t eat too much, Ayu begged internally. 

“I don’t think I’m gonna have much for dinner today anyways so you can have a buffet, Oliver.” 

“Oh.” They both glanced at each other, in both excitement and relief. “Don’t mind if I do then,” he grinned.

Though in that instance, Oliver both listened to his mother’s talk of the train-ride home and caught something in the corner of his eye. There, Ayu wobbled his way onto the seat next to his, and right across from his mother. He kept on smiling, but in his gut swerved a curve. Oh, I don’t like that. 

“How has your day been?”

Oliver caught the sentence before becoming completely distracted. “Ah,” luckily, he created a fib earlier on in the day, “I watched bad movies for most of the day I’m pretty sure.” 

“And, how were they?”

“Well, bad.”

I thought they were kind of nice, Ayu thought. 

“But,” Oliver added, “I basically just watched them all with Ayu from a video call so that’s why I didn’t stop watching.” 

“Ah,” she chewed her meal, “I’d figure you’d get bored still.” 

“Nah, he’s good for having banters with,” Oliver commented. 

Ayu sat beside patiently for food, somehow, someway. However, the conversation brought his cheeks to a gentle blush. Some sort of embarrassment or endearment, he figured. It seemed weird to him, how when Oliver talked about him, it eased him more than put discomfort. 

“Oh yeah, how is Ayu? You haven’t mentioned him in a while.”

Oliver clicked in a reminder. “I haven’t, haven’t I?... Well, he’s been cold.” 

Ayu attempted to hide his laughter at the joke, the sounds causing Oliver to flinch. 

“So… I was telling him different ways of keeping warm. Then we both got bored and that’s where we started doing stuff.” 

The mother giggled herself. “Giving life-skill lessons at age eleven, I see.”

“I’m taught from the best,” Oliver complimented.

“Why, thank you very much.” She stirred her food as she smiled warmly at him. “Hey, Oliver? I have something to ask you.” 

He stopped from his own slow-eating, anxiety gutting him at whatever would be thrown at him. “What?” 

“You… really have talked about Ayu a lot. More than anyone else you’ve really mentioned.”

Oliver’s own blush creep in at such an exposing moment. “… And?”

“So, I’ve been wondering how you’ve thought of him considering how much you’ve spoken.”

He tapped the table in a new set of awkwardness. “Right.” He pondered for words, carefully plucking them for the subject next to him. “He’s… a person.”

Ayu frowned. 

“I can tell that much,” she pushed aside, “you can go a bit further, I’m assuming?” 

Slumping his arms on the table, he sighed, “Yeah, I can…” The attempts to find his face were almost futile for the both of them. “He’s nice, and… nice to be around.” Oh god. “I don’t know, I guess he’s weirdly… charming? It’s just him.” He tugged his hair over his face, figuring Ayu laughing at this point. 

“Flustered I see… I’m only guessing, but is there a chance you like him?” 

In that instant, both eyes widened and chewing stopped for Oliver, as well as his heartbeat somehow. “What?”

“It’s nothing serious, don’t worry,” she set a hand towards him. “You’re about to reach an age of crushes soon, so I’d figure to let myself know where you’re going early.” 

“I…” Oliver’s face twitched, and turned to Ayu, whose brows raised and expression confused. He mouthed to him, “What the hell do I say?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered back.

In response, Oliver shook his head upon facing his mother again. A laugh off of the question seemed like something to try, as Oliver finally answered her with, “I’m pretty sure we just see each other as friends, Mom.” 

“Hm,” the mother studied on him, he assumed, “alright. Just remember you can say anything if you want with me.” 

Oliver stood up from his seat, pushing it in and grabbing his plate. “I know, Mom. But I think I’m gonna eat the rest of this in my room.”

“Understandable,” she replied as he left. Ayu still stayed, delayed in thought. And before leaving himself, he listened to her giggle and tell herself, “Well, there’s a first time for everything.”

Ayu slid past her, following to wherever Oliver ran off. 

Why, Mom, why? Falling flat onto the bed seemed like the best option for Oliver after placing his plate on the nightstand. He flipped around, facing the light above him as his stomach squirmed, not out of hunger however. 

Ayu entered into the new room, hanging at the edge of the apartment. He found Oliver in his laden state and formed a nervous chuckle. “I never thought of… uh, really any of that before.” 

“It’s fine,” Oliver groaned, “my mom just has a really open mind as a therapist.” 

Sitting down alongside him, he stirred the conversation. “I wasn’t raised knowing about that stuff. My mom and dad didn’t talk that much.”

The words peaked Oliver’s interest while still staring upwards. “You don’t know anything about romance, or…?”

“Nothing, do you?”

“Of course, not.” Oliver rolled over to the side opposite to Ayu. “But what did your parents do then?” 

Ayu thought in memory. “… My dad worked a lot, so he wasn’t home most of the time, and my mom was sick and sleeping too. They’d talk together like normal people or… yell, I think? I dunno, but they were nice.”

The yelling left Oliver uneased but he gripped his blankets and pushed it aside. “So… they weren’t the best couple to get an example of.” 

“I guess,” he shrugged. “What do couples usually do?”

“Really cheesy shit.” Oliver smiled as he sat up. “Like, they go on dates and act really lovey dove-y because they can.” 

“… And that means?”

The amount of Ayu’s denseness baffled him. But he continued on explaining for the humor of it. “Giving each other flowers or something and having a weirdly over-conversing dinner together; saying other weird stuff and have wine together, while getting touchy… But the worst part is…”

“What?” Ayu’s nerves discomforted him in suspense. 

“Getting kissy together.” 

“Oh, gross!” In reaction, Ayu threw a pillow at him. Oliver laughed at him. “How the fuck did I forget?”

“Ah yeah, and that part too,” he joked. 

Ayu whined, “Don’t remind me of foster care!” 

Oliver asked, “What happened in foster care?” 

“There was this girl when we were five who kept trying to kiss me.” Ayu shivered at the memory. “I think I made myself forget about it. Oh god.”

Oliver continued on his giggly streak. “I guessed I’ve awakened some repressed memories.” 

“I just thought we were good friends!” 

His cries amused Oliver, and his fears faded with every minute. “Well, hey, that means a girl had a crush on you. Congrats. Very impressive.”

“It wasn’t.” Ayu replied. “It was a mistake.” 

Cackles continued to sprout during the conversation, and endlessly through the evening to lighten their hearts. 

*** 

The night silenced both of them with only the gusts of snow whistling from the outside. 

Ayu laid underneath the soft blankets of Oliver’s bed. The cushions lifting his spirits and balancing his weight oh so comfortable with the covers blessing him a bargain of warmth. No voices spoke to him or ridiculed him in the way he dreamed to sleeping for years.

His eyes drifted, slowly, yet that of satisfactory. The day opened him with newer ones to come: no monsters in sight and perhaps a home to stay in for some while. And the one who laid next to him confirmed that possibility. 

However, a single movement interrupted that trip to slumber. Ayu snapped back awake once Oliver shifted his position. His jolt forced him to question himself, Am I that light of a sleeper? The movement stopped, and he waited for seconds upon end until nothing. Okay back to–

Another shift, then one more again. Each capturing Ayu’s attention away from sleeping. For once, he turned around to Oliver’s side, rubbing his tired eyes and asking him, “Can you not sleep?”

Moments passed before Oliver shuffled again. “I don’t usually sleep,” he whispered.

“And why’s that?”

Oliver’s pauses brought forth more wonder of the reply. But eventually, he mustered up words. “A lot of things… I don’t like the dark anymore and… if I fall asleep, I can end up killing somebody, you know?” He moved. “I’m always scared of that.”

The new fact already integrated to Ayu’s mind at such a quick pace. Perhaps his slumber smoothed any shock, or Oliver’s way of life began to normalize for him, he never understood. But instead of any concerned pleas, all he said was, “If you’re scared and can’t sleep, then I’ll stay awake with you.”

In response, Oliver sat up, and retorted, “Ayu, no. You haven’t slept in a bed for four years… Staying awake ruins the point of this.”

“… I think the point was for both of us to enjoy this.”

After no words, Ayu listened to a stifle. “It’s always like this, so I don’t think I’ll be happy.”

A pondering was necessary for what could satisfy him. But Ayu found one decent enough. “I’m here… that can help make you happy.”

Waiting a few seconds, Ayu peeped up, finding Oliver laying back down again curled up. Soon, his body shook and shivered. And his voice quaked ever so slightly, “I guess so…”

For some odd reason, Ayu’s mouth curved to a gentle smile. “Do you think you can go sleep after crying?”

A sniffle and a nod exchanged, “Yeah, maybe.”

Ayu turned back around, adjusting his covers once more. “Better than nothing.” He returned to rest, the world slowing and calming down before him into a calming black, only for ten seconds in, he felt a wrap around his body. It was Oliver, hugging him from behind. “What are you doing?”

He only hugged tighter, and it was then that Ayu felt his shaking. He croaked, “It’s just nice to know that you’re here…”

Despite being his own words, Ayu softened from them. He smiled, and said, “I guess that’s fine then.”

The connection warmed him even more than prior during that winter. And eventually Oliver’s shaking calmed to only his heartbeat that bumped into Ayu’s back. Once he gained that new sensation, he was finally eased away from Oliver’s fears, and his own. The world greeted him for something new, and that brought his eyes to drift yet again. 

And yet again, something interrupted, but this time it was his own spur of a thought, one that baffled him only to forget by the next morning: Wait a minute, isn’t this a thing couples do? 

-

Ten Dollars | Bread and Water | Red Eye | Crimson Capture | November 1st | A Mother | A Demon | A Child | The Wolf | Bloody Fingers | A Monochrome World | The Pocketwatch | I’ll Have My Day | Two Weeks | Monsters 

[maikatc]

Black Sun Tale | Bloody Fingers

just to say, this chapter isn't as bad as the title makes it seem but wahoo

remember this is a first draft with only minor editing, but enjoy! comments and reception are heavily appreciated.

-

He treaded down the streets of Obodo, legs sore and physical body dying. Despite the pain however, the flashes of the prior hours quickened his pace. He kept his hood up against the crowd to hide his contrasted red and blackened face.

He whispered to himself, “So, he didn’t die…”

The surprise left half the bricks on him afloat. The throbbing external pain also added a mark for proof of the miracle. 

He wandered through the streets alone, too boggled up by the events he’d been in. 

The crosswalk shined red and urged him to stop his hurried legs. He panted against his raging heartbeat. Without realizing, his own body was rushing to go somewhere, get something irredeemable. 

However, Oliver only fixated himself to the solved situation at hand. “He didn’t back away from me… he still wants to help.”

The light turned green; he dashed passed his waiting herd. 

Why the hell would he help me? He questioned. I’m the killer; I’m the one who hit him- 

A shot of achiness went through his entire body. He stumbled on his steps, bumping into surrounding fodder. He pled his apologies in mumbles as he rushed away from them. 

He grumbled. “I have to talk to Alice.” His stomach screamed at him once more while the black markings started to burn. “And that too.” 

His feet turned to a certain crosswalk, in which what lied ahead woke Oliver up for real. 

He tensed from the idea, growing sick of it by the seconds. 

Am I really…?

The thought of blood craved upon his lips. He hesitated on the decision. 

The crosswalk lit green; Oliver took a step forward to the park he had been in shortly ago. 

“I’m going to regret this.”

*

Bombs of screaming children blasted at his ears. He stood in the midst of all the chaos, studying everyone around in a hazy state; heart aching from his actions. 

Kids mocked each other of their speed; others played tag with fun-filled smiles. A group of children gathered around a single spot to dig up the mulch and find treasure; while another made a game through the slides. 

They all held youthful faces. Too young for Oliver to interfere. 

Though, in the corner of his eye, a small sandbox sat on the side. Glimpsing upon it, a girl built valleys by herself at the spot. Her face blurred to Oliver, though her size seemed about his age, the oldest out of the entire park. 

He pitied her. She’s lived a longer life than anyone else here. It’s the fairest. 

A clench was made with his fists with the thought. 

He whisked around, stepping back to exit the playground. He stumbled and panted through his aches, but the girl wasn’t worth it. 

The steps grew longer and heavier the closer he made it out; Oliver pushed onwards despite. Nobody would be harmed by him anyways. A winning situation for them all. 

The marks stung him but stopped jolting him awake. And his eyes turned drowsier. Oliver’s mind became numb as it drifted away from control. 

All Oliver could comprehend before blacking out was his body turning back.  

A brush of the grass tickled his hands and cheeks as he slept. Though, the air was silent upon him, no animals chirping or tree leaves wrestling. All there lied was a grey sky and the deafening atmosphere of Fowls. 

In a gasp, Oliver jolted awake. He wheezed in air from the fear that’s struck within him and checked his stomach. 

It was already filling up and healing. 

He sat up. The forest still had its dead presence like before and like himself. Cursing at himself, he smacked his hand against the ground. 

Steps came from the distance, grass getting crushed then forming back up again in the process. The same old woman appeared before Oliver. 

She frowned, “Not doing well, I assume?”

He scowled at Alice. “I’m getting more insane by the day, I swear.”

She sighed. “Believe me, almost everyone here would agree with you.” She got down to her knees, adjusting her dress to the ground. “How did the meeting with your friend occur?” 

In a short time, Oliver reluctantly conversed about the previous two days involving Ayu with the woman. 

“Of course, that boy wouldn’t have been in danger by your attack in the first place,” she exclaimed.

“W-what?”

She smiled. “You had nothing to worry about with him, Oliver. Honestly, I say you keep him as a friend with that reason.” 

Oliver questioned, “But why would you know that?”

“Pardon?” Her eyes widened. “Oh! That’s simple. I heard of you talking with the boy from Vittorino so I went to learn a bit about him myself out of curiosity.” She flushed red. 

Oliver stared. “That’s… a little weird of you.” He exhaled. “But anyways, he told me to talk to you about something so that’s why I’m here.”

“What is it?”

He tattled his fingers against his legs. “Do I have any powers?”

Her face turned to concern. “Oh dear, I thought you already knew.”

He scoffed, “How would I’ve known?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she admitted. “You could’ve just figured it out through the wolf or started going through developments already!”

“Well, I didn’t even know the wolf existed until today so that’s convenient.” 

“Goodness,” she hissed and grumbled, “Why are you so terrible, Ak-.” She took a breath.

Oliver raised a brow. “You good there?”

“Yes, I’m swell.” She placed a hand on her forehead. “I’ll explain for you then.”

“Thanks.”

“Now before anything, the wolf was created for you as an emergency device just so you know.” She adjusted his messy hair as she spoke. 

Though Oliver whisked her hand off. “For if I starve myself?”

“Exactly,” she replied. “I actually find it quite surprising that he- the wolf grew such an intelligence for gathering food. Such a marvel in magic I must say.” She smiled in her words. 

Oliver made skeptical eyes. “You say that as if it’s a good thing.” 

Alice noted, “Oh it isn’t at all; however, it’s still an astonishing tool for you to live.” She faced him with caring eyes even if he didn’t reciprocate. “Though, I assume Ayu stopped the wolf too quickly for you to come into contact with me. But that’s just him.”

“Can we just move on,” Oliver stopped her. 

Alice paused from her next words. She adjusted herself. “Ah, yes… Aside from the wolf, your abilities are rather simplistic. From what I can recall you only have two.”

He asked, “And what are they exactly?”

“That’s the part I love,” she states. “You have your father’s abilities: Invisibility and shapeshifting.” 

Oliver froze. “… Wait that’s actually cool.”

Alice giggled. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“That just means I can mess around with almost everybody,” he grinned. 

“Just to inform you,” she added, “with your blood and the fact that your powers are natural, you’ll have to learn manually. That and you have to keep your body in maintenance at the very least to be able to use them.”  

He pouted. “Now that’s lame.” He grumbled against his own disabilities, though changed tone after. “If you’re saying that I have to learn, then can you help me with that?”

Alice scoffed, “You’re asking me? Oliver, of course I would help you. Though, I’d consider you taking lessons from me if you want to learn.”

“Why lessons?” 

“So, then you can be educated efficiently. Don’t consider my teachings as critical though; I’ve never honed the abilities or even my own by heart.”

Oliver bit his lip. “Well, thank you then.” He shifted his gears to, “One other thing?”

“Yes?”

“Is it possible for,” he hesitated from asking. “Can Ayu come along to learn about your history and stuff?”

Alice turned to him, brows up in a surprised expression. “Why does he desire to know?” Her tone was cold; brisk in the state of urgency. 

Oliver tensed by her question. “He’s… just as confused as me; he doesn’t know what’s going on or what he’s doing so he wants help too,” he proclaimed. “This might do the trick for him if his guess is right.”

“Guess?”

Oliver side-eyed her. “I don’t wanna go into that much detail, but he’s eager to do anything by this point…”

Alice didn’t say a word. She gazed upon the grass ahead of them. “I cannot foretell if it’s possible-”

“Please Alice… Mom,” he interrupted, forcing the title to come from his words. “You say that I should stick with him, right? Then why don’t I help him to pay that back?”

“Oh, Oliver…,” Alice sighed. She pulled a strand of hair while mumbling, “I suppose I can request someone to advise him.”

The boy smiled at her. “Now that’s quite satisfying to hear,” he mimicked her accent. “Greatest gratitude.”

She narrowed her eyes with a sneer along with him. “You’re a snarky one, aren’t you?”

“When I feel like it,” he replied. “Hold on a second- who’ll be the person to teach him?”

“Simply a good friend of mine,” she answered, relaxing herself in the grass some more. “There’s nothing to stress about with her, even if she is a tad cantankerous.”

“Canta- what now?” He eyed her with the frazzled phrase.

“Ill-tempered. She’s ill-tempered,” she giggled. “… You likely have to go soon, don’t you?”

Oliver’s face dulled back to his old irritation. He laid back against the grass, pressing on his stomach. “I feel full now so yeah,” he puffed against the cold air. 

“Well,” Alice glumly spoke. She stood up, picking off specks of grass on her skirt. “You ought to start sleeping yourself awake now.” She set a forced breath of a laugh. 

“I guess so…” He shimmied around the grass patch. Discomfort from the fakeness of it all itched his skin.

Footsteps rang through Oliver’s head, growing fainter with each stride. It brushed his ears to where it tranced him; his eyes growing heavy with a dozy mind. As the steps disappeared, the last thing whispered to him was, “I’ll see you whenever you wish.”

A gasp of air leaped out of Oliver’s throat. His eyes lit up upon the stump he’d known all too well. Its veins of bark stared back at him while he studied its line markings again. 

After a few known minutes, the boy sat up with an expressionless face. He was greeted with a quiet blood gala featuring scraps being eaten up by flies, a weekly event. 

It never dawned on him. The blood’s scent was almost precious by instinct, tickling his nose with its aroma. 

Without a reply to the dead silence, Oliver looked down towards his hands. Red covered over his skin; ripe without much dirt, he gazed upon them, odor looming over him. 

He licked it all off. 

The taste was delectable for him. 

***

With his mind clear and majority of his body clean of blood, Oliver walked along the pathways back home. 

“Whenever I wish huh…”

“I’ll go and tell Alice once you’ve decided,” Vittorino said. He jumped out from behind. The surprise pushed Oliver forward through flinching. 

“Why is it always you and Faustus who do that?” He grumbled while adjusting his dirty cardigan. 

Vittorino grinned. “Ah, who’s to know, really. He’s admirable though, so maybe I may have picked up something from him.”  

“So, you did know him,” Oliver asked.

“Not entirely?” They both walked on.

Oliver turned flat faced. “That isn’t entirely helpful either.”

Vittorino walked backwards, facing him. “I’m not supposed to be the most helpful person. You should be acknowledged of this by now.” 

“Still isn’t the best for me,” he grumbled. “What do you even do aside from this? - I mean- I know what you’re a part of but-”

“But that’s an easy answer for me,” he finished. He leaped onto street steps, swinging around the sign pole in front of him. “Heard of second eras, right? I’m practically their leader.”

Oliver eyed him. “But don’t you follow a leader yourself?”

“I do,” he answered, “but I’m his loyalist follower.” 

The boy’s eyes narrowed. “Oh really?”

“Mhm, special too since I don’t even have to touch anyone to kill.” He faced away from Oliver, dashing off to the next crosswalk. 

“Goddamn, wait up,” he stumbled to catch up. “What the hell do you mean by that?”

“Simple,” he examined ahead. “I was given the ability to warp minds and actions from him.”

“You- what?”

“And I use the gift to my advantage, you see,” he stepped onto the streets along with the crowd, babbling with pride. “I just make people kill themselves with it.”

Oliver’s heart stopped; he choked on his words. The chuckling, manic youth in front of him smiled carelessly to his dreading words. 

“You…” Oliver stuttered. “Why haven’t you killed me yet? I could be an easy target.”

His smile broke. “Oh, I’m not allowed to do anything to you. That’s it.”

His nonchalant attitude on the subject reeked Oliver. His entire body tensed at him. “Alice was right. You are ‘disturbed’.” He rushed away from him. 

Vittorino laughed in the distance. He yelled, “Don’t ya wanna talk some more?”

“Nope,” he yelled back. “Fuck off! You’re too fucked for me to deal with right now!” He slabbed his hood over him. An exhale broke out from him as his apartment building loomed ahead over him. 

*

“Oh, Oliver, you back!”

The boy passed through the door and entered to the sight of his mother. His breathing calmed; his steps led back to a peace he’d known all his life. 

“Hey Mom,” he greeted. “How was work today?”

She set aside the work on her lap. “Today was actually kinda relaxing. Carl had a funny story,” she began chatting all the while cleaning up her hair. 

Oliver followed and laughed at the short tales of her patients. Her spirit of rambling livened up the room and the rest of his day. 

He melted away in the couch as his mother heated up leftovers from the night prior; and they babbled for endless minutes with the cozy stove warming up the air. 

His mother noted, “You seem more up than usual, Oliver. What’ve you been up to?”

The boy’s eyes fluttered open by her question. Well, the entire day was a mess really, Mom, he desired to reply. Though, a smidge of warmth tapped on his heart; some small glimmer of hope dawned on him with his black, messy hair and odd eyes. “Not that much has happened, I guess. Just made a new friend recently is all.”

“Oh?” She stifled a giggle. “And what might they be like?”

“Definitely weird,” he admitted. Then again, everyone is now. “But… he’s more preferable than others. At least.”

She hummed, “How have you two been doing then?” She sat back with a plate of chicken. 

“We just kinda hung out since I was a little bored,” half a lie, “I’m planning on seeing him again but… he’s usually busy so I don’t think you’ll see him anytime soon.”

She took a bite of her meal. “And how are you seeing him yourself then.”

“… school.” He answered carefully. “And he texts me… and I go to his apartment building and talk to him through windows.” He smiled at the thought. 

“Oliver!” His mother scolded, “While I appreciate the enthusiasm for a new friend, that still isn’t the most ethical way of seeing him.” 

Oliver rolled his eyes. “Isn’t it also unethical to eat on the couch?”

“There’s eating on the couch, then there’s the invasion of private property.” She treaded along back to the table. “It’s a bit of a difference.” 

Oliver added more to the fib. “Well, at least I get his permission to go there first.”

“Do you get his parents’?”

Of course, “No.”

She scoffed, “Now that isn’t the best excuse, now is it?” 

He grumbled to the fake argument, crossing his arms and sinking into the cushions. “Probably but I’ll most likely still go because he’s cool-” He corrected,” Okay not cool cool but nice to be around.”

She laughed. “I still won’t recommend it. But this is probably the first time in a while that you’ve talked about somebody else; I’m glad.”

He paused then smiled at her sincerity. Snuggling up against a pillow, he mumbled, “I think I am too,” and drifted off to a peaceful slumber in their quiet bond. 

For once, a blade wasn’t needed to ease a pain in his gut. 

-

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