Chapter Text
The sleeper tossed and turned in bed. All of a sudden, they felt something clamp down on their ankle. The bitty tugged and tore at it. Whatever it was, nothing seemed to loosen its vice grip around their ankle. Their sore fingers tightened around the wretched metal, pulling with all their might.
It had to come off.
Right now.
The disturbed bitty opened their eyes.
Blankets drift off the shelf they called home down onto Rust’s bed below.
It felt like something had been chained to their foot.
The drowsy bitty breathed in short gasps as they examined their ankle. As if a ghost pain, the offending metal still felt like it was around their ankle. They wiggled the ghost limb. Despite all the time that had gone by, a part of them still expected it to snap into existence.
At least it won’t happen again. Somewhere deep within them said.
The remnants of the dream evaporated from their mind like morning dew in the sun. Their right arm ran along the hardened magic of their stubs. The worst of the pain there had gone. The healing process was almost complete aside from a few bruises.
Rust’s snoring drew them from their thoughts. It reminded the drowsy one of how early it was. If any time were the time to move, it was now.
“Rust, let me out!”
One day away from sleeping on Rust’s chest, stupidly they already felt the overwhelming pull to return. As if they were some kid in need of constant comfort. Clearly, they had survived a long while without it, they could live without becoming dependent on it again.
“RUST!”
Growling, the bitty slid down a rope pushing on Rust’s chest. Lumpy blankets force the bitty to climb simply to reach the human’s face. This is why they wanted the rope to go BENEATH the shelf. “Wake up! Being in here is horrible. Let me out!” The grouchy bitty finished, shouting in Rust’s ear.
Rust groaned, rubbing at their chest. They scooped the bitty up and pressing the squirmer into their chest. “s’ too early. go ba’ ta s’eep.” A swell of positivity smacked into bitty’s chest, momentarily stealing their strength from them as their mana relaxes.
Enraged, the bitty reached out with their magic, lifting the bottle of water, then promptly dumping it on Rust’s face.
In a second, Rust shot up, pressing them harder against their chest. “Let me out! Not pick me up! Listen you, big oaf!” The bitty growled, muffled by Rust’s hand.
For a long moment, Rust didn’t say anything. Their breath came in shallow and rough. “toldja ta stop doing that, runt.”
“and I told you to stop cradling me like a baby but we don’t always get what we want, do we?” The bitty huffed. They pushed away, despite the part of them begging to hold on. “Put me outside. You can sleep until noon.”
Rust grumbled, closing their eyes again and yawning.
It’s a good thing that the bitty had their trusty Q-Tip on hand.
A single shove up the nasal cavity sends Rust snorting awake. “a’ight a’ight. gimme a sec, damn thing won’t stay.” The blankets fall off. Beneath, Rust wears just a boxers and a crop top which had folded in on itself again and again despite Rust’s best efforts.
Giving up again, Rust acquiesces to the bitty’s command. Their eyes shut as if they were sown, “alright then.” They blindingly crawl on their knees to the door. One hand holding the bitty while the other hand splayed out, feeling a path through the dirty clothes, papers, and various other bits and sharp bobs. At one point, Rust cursed, picking out what looked to be a rectangular piece of plastic from their knee.
“damn bricks.” Rust muttered.
Having successfully navigated the treacherous floors, they made a path via haphazardly throwing laundry this way and that until the door opened. Its hinges creaked out like shriek of crickets. Even gentler, does Rust close it behind them.
In a matter of a minute, the snoring returned.
Did they… never mind.
The bitty took a deep breath, savoring the musty smell of the outside world. Morning light gently caressed their cheek, lacking the midday burn. The silver of light tumbled between the gap in the black out shades, set the dust ablaze like flakes of snow.
Gnats flitted lazily in the shadows while an acoustic guitar plaid nearby.
Their second breathe, the escapee smelt their own stale magic. They coughed, instantly regretting their clear magic pathways. Perhaps the human was indeed correct in the assessment that bathing more than once a week would be beneficial.
The sight of their equipment beneath a pair of dirty pants made the bitty’s soul skip with excitement. Beside Rust’s door, a tiny box protected the bitty’s mobility scooter. Even over the thin carpet, it could barely keep up with them. It veered wildly from left to right, needing constant corrections. Most days, the bitty would lose their temper over how unwieldy it was but the taste of elevation drowned out all their complaints.
Throwing the pant leg aside, they find an assortment of supplies.
- 1 floss rope with bowtie pasta (interspersed at even intervals)
- An old sling shot
- Several Rubber bands
- A digital camera
The camera oddly enough was the easiest to acquire. Rust forgot it within their pocket about a week ago. A sum total of thirty notes litter Rust’s door and the pants to pick it up. Sometimes Rust’s inability to throw dirty clothes in a hamper had its upsides.
Amongst their equipment, the escapee spotted a golden muffin beside the rest of the equipment. It’s a strange place to leave a muffin. Then again, the other day they found a muffin in their bedding.
The low thrum of the vents called them back. Far above them, the sun glitters off the shiny metal grate. It whistles temptingly. It took their breath away, considering all the places they could explore with no clue where it would lead. It had been so long since they didn’t have an answer to something so simple.
Today would change that.
The bitty’s stomach grumbled. They ignore it, instead reaching for the rope, the dental floss’s sticky texture filled them with determination.
They set up the camera and start recording.
“Attempt 44, Day 3.
Climbing Log of… To Be Determined
Today is a momentous day. I will perform my first successful expedition of the Apartment Vents. If everything goes to plan, I will find the finest slides of my life. In the past I used shoelaces, yarn, and rope, none had results like dental floss.
Now I know what you must be thinking. Why would you make it harder on yourself by tying pasta of fall things to your rope? That is a good question. Ordinarily, I’d be able to climb rope but--” The climber waves their good arms. “things changed. This is no different from when I couldn’t stretch my legs. I adapt. Hence, the pasta. Rather than having to hold myself with a single arm, I can take regular breaks with the pasta without relying on my stumps to hold on. Ingenious, isn’t it?”
The bitty proudly held up a string of dental floss to the camera, interspersed with bow tie pasta tied at even intervals. A safety pin secured at the end to catch onto the vent.
“Dear audience, do not try what you’re about to see at home.” The bitty grinned. At last, they would taste the thrill of being off the ground again. No need for human assistance to reach high perches. The climber would reach the summit all on their own.
Sticking the slingshot to the ground with magic, the climber used the back of their leg stubs to control the angle while yanking back the rubber band with their remaining hand. Meanwhile, they utilized their mouth to place the safety pin in the pouch at the last second.
The force it took to pull back the rubber band pushed their arm to the limit. In the back of their mind, the climber hoped against hope the rubber bands would hold this time.
There’s only so many times you can tell your human you fell on your face.
The feverish beat of the bitty’s soul drowned out all other sounds. Smooth rubber skims along their jaw as they pulled it back. Mint and musk laid thick in the air while the call of the vent grew louder and louder.
They let go.
It barely went 2 feet off the ground. The safety pin bounced off the wall with dismissive ‘plink.’
The climber set it up again and again until their arm burned from strain and their hip seized from being in the same position so Angel knows how long.
One rubber band left.
There was no telling when they’d find another.
They had to make this one count.
Even the faint stinging on their cheek, the bitty felt the vent’s call so strongly that it sucked the pain right out.
Sunlight tumbling between the shades grew stronger. It was only a matter of time before their fingers can’t make purchase on the slippery rubber. It was like the sun itself threatened to melt them.
Despite it all, the climber let their body fall back, pulling the rubber band with it to its full potential. At this tension, it’d do more than hurt, it’d knock them out like before. The bitty doubted they would be able to see, much less work a sling shot for a week or two.
It’s now or never.
Trial after trail, a perfect angle finally revealed itself. All they had to do was aim a little high over the vent at maximum tension and it’d make it.
The target fell into position. Sweat rolled down the bitty’s forehead. The awareness of how tight their grip wasn’t lost on them.
One worn rubber band.
One last chance.
There’s no way to tell when Rust or Steel would come out. Then it’d be over. Logically, the climber knew it was best to throw in the towel.
They nearly reached their goal. Tomorrow would be a new day.
Yet, the thought of being tied to the Angel forsaken earth even for a second longer seized part of the climber’s soul in an iron grip. At the same time, their hand twitched. A momentary loss of control but it was enough to send the rubber band slipping between their fingers.
The climber watches the rubber band fly with bated breath. Even before it’s apex the bitty knew it was too late.
It was too low.
It wasn’t going to make it.
The bitty watched in horror as its ascent slowed.
All they could think was “Why can’t luck ever be on my side?”
Frustration coiled around the bitty like Englilsh Ivy until even their arm couldn’t stay down. It didn’t matter they could barely feel it. It felt wrong not to reach out and try.
The shades momentarily fluttered, sending a ray of sunlight glinting on the pin. It felt so slow in those moments. The heavenly light making a mockery out of the bitty’s attempt to use magic. Even as azure beams refracted off the safety pin. Angels could’ve sung out an immaculate chorus with the icon of Chuck Norris and the bitty still wouldn’t have believe it would make a difference.
In that moment, time truly seemed to slow. The bitty felt the air shift in direction, picking up speed. Streams of light combusted behind the pin. The rope whipping wildly behind it like a beast being held back and suddenly set free. A high-pitched screeching sound like air being let out of a balloon fills the hall. The safety pin slammed into the ceiling, digging into the popcorn ceiling. The string collectively smacking against it soon after, filling the hall with the sound of pasta hitting drywall.
Flakes of the ceiling and pasta rained down like snow. The bitty stared at it. Their soul feeling as if the hit a new low beneath the earth the apartment complex stood on.
The defeated climber lied there, staring at the culmination of 3 days’ work. A heaviness tugged on their soul as if ready to drag them through all 2 stories and far beneath the bedrock. “There’s always tomorrow.” They repeat to themself. A faceless man appears in their mind’s eye. The bitty clung to the memory. Their breathing slowed. Time began to tick by at a regular speed.
They’d try again tomorrow.
For a moment, they closed their eyes. The aches from all the attempts gnawed at their bones.
“Next time, use a smaller safety pin.”
The climber shot up, groaning as their body protested, they fell back on the floor. “I would say screw you but your makeup has done that for me.”
They should’ve heard.
Why hadn’t the climber heard them coming?
Steel placed something beside them. They half expected a note that said, “Yes, I’ve already told Rust of your idiot plan. Not only that, but I’ve informed them of 97 other infractions against the health code. You’ll be lucky if you’re even lead on a leash, much less having any freedom outside of Rust’s bedroom once I’m done with you. Don’t forget to read the fine print! I’ve added a customary report involving you and a pigeon so Rust won’t even let you go on their shoulder anymore. You’re welcome. Sincerely, your evil roommate. Steel.”
But the climber felt something metallic instead.
A safety pin, oddly enough.
Not for the first time, the bitty wondered how the human could possibly have tampered with it. The demonic, face-painted human possessed a talent for observation, rarely elaborate schemes. Their need to cause pain only superseded by their obsession with efficiency, even down to insisting on finding a larger plastic spoon because it took the bitty too long to eat soup. In theory, that would include the climber’s ability to reach the vent but that directly conflicted with Rust’s objective.
And yet… Steel’s gaze remained fixed on the rope. They tenderly examined the interlocking pasta, tugging it. The rope swayed but didn’t break under the attention.
That sinking feeling grew stronger with every passing moment.
“It’s… mine.” The bitty hissed. “You can’t… take it.”
Steel raised a painted brow. In combination with their dark lipstick, it struck quite the mood. Steel set the slingshot back beneath the dirty laundry, careful not to actually touch it. “If I were you, I’d wake up an hour earlier.”
“Don’t tell them.” The bitty panted.
The human smirked. “Tell them what?”
The climber blinked and the human had already passed them on the way to Rust’s bedroom.
The bitty attempted to shove off their vertigo. Whatever way the evil roommate planned on sabotaging, it must not be obvious this time. Did their pathology change? They would have to double check the slingshot and rope. A single slash from Steel’s razor sharp acrylic nails could mean the rope splitting in mid-air or worse, while climbing.
“And pipsqueak?”
The climber scrambled to gather up their rope.
“Let me know when you reach it.” Steel glanced to the vent, then back to them. “I have a feeling it’ll be sooner than later.”
The bitty sneered. “Should I also call Rust too? We might as well keep everyone in the loop.”
Steel paused. Staring in the way they do when they noticed a “rat’s nest” in Rust’s hair, only to turn once again.
They watched Steel their whole way stomping up to Rust’s door.
“I told you to get up five minutes ago!” Steel pounded on the door. “Or would you rather the pipsqueak go hungry?”
Bed springs creaked, combined with something heavy falling echoed down the hall. All of a sudden, Rust opened the door a crack, glaring. Judging from what little the climber could see, Rust still had yet to dress beyond boxers.
“s’ a saturday, boss. give it a rest…”
“Are you aware what yesterday was?”
“bet you’ll tell me.”
“Friday. A day you were supposed to collect the mail.”
Rust groaned, resting their face against the door frame. “how do ya know I didn’?”
For a brief moment, the climber could’ve sworn Steel’s cheeks turned a shade of a pink. “That’s beside the point. We agreed upon this schedule.”
“i’ll do it later—” Rust gaze wonders down the hall.
Rust’s eyes widened to dinner plates. Rust nearly barreled past Steel only to get shoved back inside.
“No---dressed first, bitty second.”
Steel and Rust wrestled with the door like it was a sport.
The bitty rolled their eyes. “I am fine. The carpet merely didn’t agree with my face.”
“They can even speak. A picture of health. Get Dressed. Now.” Steel swung their foot beneath Rust’s ankle, swinging them right out from under Rust. Rust grunts, tumbling back.
The door slammed in Rust’s face. They slammed into the door like some wild force of nature. “that ain’t from trippin-“
“Regardless, they can wait for you to be descent. Honestly, it’s inappropriate for them to sleep nearby you without pants.”
“s’ 70 degrees out. whatdaya expect me to do? burn alive?”
“A little modesty would never hurt.” Steel held the doorknob in a vice grip, preventing it from being open despite all Rust’s growling.
Colorful curses rocketed through the door. Eventually, the sound of dressers rustling and muted grumbling filled the room. It surprised the bitty how fast the door opened after that with Rust’s miraculously clothed- even they only wore an oversized parka and chewed up pair of basketball shorts, they rarely moved this fast in the morning.
For a moment, Steel looked as if they’d force them back before shaking their head. “This better not be how you dress for your students.”
Rust shoved past Steel.
A perfect cue for the bitty to find something else to do.
But first, they must perform the time-honored tradition of this household.
“You locked me out all night. What did you expect? Me to be miraculously—ACK!”
The climber squawked like a seagull as Rust unceremoniously grabbed them. Not uncomfortably so but still annoying since they can’t their arm at all. “never should’ve letcha sleep on yer own.”
“I’m fine! You’re the one overreacting!”
“tell dat ta the cut running down the middle of yer face.”
The bitty touched their face. Between the soreness in their muscles, they’d entirely forgotten about the pain there. They winced. “It’s a bruise.”
Rust poked it, earning a squawk.
“What was that for?”
“ya know what for.”
“Maybe if I were a mind reader! But I’m not!”
Rust ran the tap into a bowl, throwing ice cubes in.
“I’m fine.” The climber reiterated, again. The cold bath would help with speeding up the healing process but going in their felt like giving up and they were NOT giving up yet. Rust had way bigger bruises and they didn’t complain. Why would the climber?
“It barely hurts. If you hadn’t mentioned it, I wouldn’t have even known about it.”
“good thing I caught it, isn’t it?”
“That’s not what I mean and you—” Rust dumped the into the water. They gasped at the sudden frigid temperatures. By far not cold enough to hurt but definitely enough to shock them.
The bitty chattered. “Sooooo Cooooold.”
Rust sent them another annoyed look before pulling out the first aid kit.
The bitty grumbled, stumbling out only to be placed back in.
“yer sweatin’ too much. ya shouldn’t be moving so much in this heat.”
Rust hurried off, throwing this and that from the kitchen cabinets until they produced muffin.
“I’m slightly dazed, not dying.”
It did little to dampen Rust’s burning gaze. “when’s the last time ya ate?”
It took the bitty a second to remember the right answer. Too long. “An hour ago.”
“runt…”
“… Yesterday.”
“and what didja do today?” Rust waited patiently as if for an answer. The climber merely glared back. Why play into their game? There’s no way the bitty could win, might as well make it as unproductive as possible. “ya ran around a whole lot.”
“Ah yes, I forgot to mention that. I temporarily regenerated my legs for the express purpose to induce magic exhaustion. How could I forget?” They smack their forhead, remembering only as the pain radiated throughout their forehead that that was a very ill thought idea. “owowowow.”
Rust takes their hand, placing a piece of muffin into it. “eat.”
“Maybe if it was a coven muffin.”
“beggers aren’t choosers.”
“Who said I even wanted it?” The bitty tossed it at the counter.
True. The Coven muffins tasted like what you’d expect plain flour to taste like. That didn’t mean the climber could stomach one of Rust’s muffins this early in the morning. For someone with no magic, Rust knew how to pack the maximum amount of positive intent into a single muffin. To the point that they barely had to eat half of one of the “mini” muffins to be satisfied. At least when their sibling cooked they didn’t have to worry about their chest growing heavy and falling asleep.
The bitty attempted to crawl out again, only to be blocked by Rust’s hand. “fine. you’ll eat later. once ya cool down”
“Ruuust.” The bitty whined. “I’m not going to stand here and do nothing.”
“eat and ya don’t have to.” Rust drops a mini peach ball into the bowl.
They glare at the offending object as if it personally insulted them. “do I look like the water polo type to you?”
Despite Rust’s hooded eyes, their smile reached from ear to ear. “water you mean, squirt?”
The climber grabbed the nearest hand towel, wrapping it over their non-existent ears. Rust easily scooped them back in like it was a game.
There’s no way they could climb out and keep the puns from rotting their mind like Steel said. That left them one option. Whipping the towel off, they shouted. “STEEL! Rust hasn’t gotten the mail!”
Steel’s bedroom door slams open with a clatter. It felt as if the whole building shook.
“that’s jus childish.” Rust sighed.
“Have fun.” The bitty stepped out of the pool.
Rust rolled their eyes.
“It better be under that towel.”
“it can wait.”
Steel grabbed Rust by the ear, scooping up the stunned bitty. Rust “bitches and moans” the whole way as Steel called it until Steel shoved out the door. Steel set the bitty on a wall sconce. “Make sure they lock the mail box. I will not be pranked again.”
The bitty nodded.
Rust, who had yet to get up from the ground, added, “you’d like that, wouldn’t ya.”
Steel slammed the door behind them.
“Steel! C’mon, s’ 9 in the mornin’.”
Further down the hall, the bitty catches the scrambling of feet. Just as they look up, they catch a glimpse of a brown coat fluttering in the breeze before rounding a corner. At least the neighbors had the good sense to steer clear.
Most of them, at least.
A younger couple pokes out of the apartment one door down.
Rust snarled, “whateru lookin’ at?”
They both duck back inside, slamming the door shut. “Well I’ll be damned!” One of them explained, the rest muffed by the door.
For a moment, Rust’s face shown so red that the bitty thought the door would be no more than splinters when they were done with it.
Their gaze shifted to the bitty. It was as if a pole was hammered down the climber’s back, forcing them to sit straight.
Rust gaze landed above their eyes. Either way, the bitty didn’t breathe until the human exhaled. “c’mon, let’s get this over with.” Rust checked their parka. Whatever they saw, it must have passed the test despite the mustard stain. This time when the bitty saw Rust’s eyes, they lacked the roaring fire that made their chest burn.
Rust held out their hand, letting the climber come in their own time.
The bitty eyed them like they were an alien but climbed aboard anyway.
Rust had nearly gotten down the stairs when they stopped. “what’s wrong now?”
First, Steel changed their pathology. Now, Rust inquired about their their condition.
How strange.
The climber spotted the shadow of through the apartment’s lobby door.
All their previous apprehension vanished in a second. They hadn’t realized they would be going outside-outside. “We’re going to through the forest, aren’t we? Put me on one of the branches. A documentary said that the bugs sometimes hurt the trees and I need to see if—“
Why hadn’t Rust interrupted them yet?
It took long enough that the bitty glanced back. “what forest?”
“Uh… the one that goes between the buildings? We walk by it every day? Well... I’m in your coat but still. I do walk by it in spirit.”
Rust nodded, though their eyes lacked focus despite their non-Che lance posture. “ever been in a forest that you can’t see any houses?”
“A forest without houses?” The documentaries showed the Amazon Rainforest as well as some of the local Redwood forests down south but all the footage looked old. “I didn’t know our area had them.”
Rust smile grew extra sharp. The kind Rust showed when any passerby got too close, still not looking at them. Rust let out a slow ragged breath. The negativity sprouted out like vines, tightening around the bitty’s soul in warning.
Rubbing at the soreness in their chest, they scooted to the side of Rust’s hand furthest from Rust’s chest.
Rust acted up over the strangest things.
Yesterday it was when they couldn’t identify the color purple. It’s a darker shade of blue, what is even the point?
The bitty dismisses it, instead ordering to be moved to the human’s shoulder.
The climber’s hand tingled as it passed through the soft fur surrounding the parka’s hood. It tickled swing through their arm. It left bits of dust, faintly smelling like smoke.
A sweet floral scent met the bitty at the door. The bitty expected to see that endless blue sky they’d heard so much about. Instead, a canopy of big leafed trees engulfed the sky.
In the long long time the climber spent lying against their human’s soul healing, only three days ago they possessed strength to look toward the sky. They remembered brief snap shots of green and blue but nothing more. And definitely nothing to suggest a member of the Acer family grew this close.
It was as if like the sky itself warped around it. The Maple created a center of gravity itself that all revolved around. It had to be a couple stories tall. That’s impossible.
The bitty knew logically that trees that large existed but they hadn’t been close to one in years. They’d taken on such a mythic quality in their imagination. It barely felt real.
How could something be so big without being designed? If the bitty hadn’t known better, ever single fissure in the mark, the palmated leaves to the horizontal spread all showed signs of thoughtful design. Miraculously, like most plants, it grew that way. Some random chance of natural selection created this specific species of Bigleaf Maple to not a hundred million years ago. Not 1 million years ago but today. It decided to claim it’s part of the sky and nobody could stop it.
A part of them wished it was a Sugar Maple. Once upon a time, a previous owner made the “mistake” of introducing maple syrup to them. As soon as it touched their lips, it was over. No bottle of it was safe. Every chance the climber recieved they went looking for sugar maples. Even if they didn’t grow in the bitty lived, regardless of any punishment any owner threatened, nothing could keep them from those mossy branches.
Their mouth watered despite knowing better. It wasn’t a sugar maple.
Maple is a maple.
The Bigleaf maple would do just fine, for now.
It still felt so unreal. They raised their hand, letting leaf brush against their palm, catching a bit of morning dew.
Not so much as thinking as doing, the climber unfurled their rope once again. The climber spotted a low hanging branch to swing to and a higher one to lasso. Even with the wet rope in hand, their soul beat faster. The world seemed to sparkle everywhere the bitty looked. They spin the opposite end, the one with a heavy a marble attached for maximum rotation potential. As the yellow marble turns into a donut shaped streak, they release it.
It zoomed through the air. Not as fast as the safety pin but fast enough that it was difficult to track between all the branches. For a second, the climber wondered if it would take. All of a sudden, they saw the line go taught.
Without a second thought, the climber steps off their human’s shoulder.
A heavy weight slipped off their shoulders. For what felt like the first time in weeks, they opened their eyes. Wind blew stale magic off their cheek. It was as if they stepped into another world.
Their mana flow reversed. The brown of the grass to the trash on the pavement popped like in a high-definition film. The tug of the rope, brought their body back on course. Even the tension in their arms had its appeal.
They couldn’t stymie the childish giggle that slipped between their lips.
They wished it could last forever.
The pavement had other plans.
Their gut twisted. Something about the fall was wrong. They’d misjudged the length of the rope or the rope was bad. Either way, they climbed up it as fast as they could despite the weight pulling down on them. The pasta hurt as they pasted through their leg. They’d only gotten a few runs up.
The crack of pasta felt like nails on a chalk board. A gale foisted them faster and faster. They could feel the heat of the pavement beneath them.
They hoisted themself up one last time.
CRACK!
Something caught on the pasta, sending them spinning.
They held on for dear life, expecting to wake up next lying there. Unable to move through all the pain.
Instead, they opened their eyes to see blue sky peppered with emerald leaves. They risked glancing back. Something must’ve caught. Only a single rung of pasta lasted beneath them.
Laughter bubble up unbidden. It hit them like a tidal wave, nearly making them fall. Relief mixed with euphoria as they shouted “I DID IT!” in a voice so close to their soul, it felt like seeing an old friend after being apart for years.
Laughter rose and fall as they caught their breath. Rarely their instincts were wrong. That was close but it didn’t feel oh…
Their stomach flipped as they continued to swing on the rope, being thrown up and over the branch.
This can’t be good.
Who would’ve thought wind would be a factor of outdoor climbing?
With the fear burnt out of their system, the bitty saw everything. Every branch. Every possible escape route and each rotation around that limb, their options were quickly limiting.
Whichever they chose, it wouldn’t be good.
Option 1: hold on until the end. It might slow down or it could speed up.
Result: High Risk, Low Success
Option 2: time to fling them to mail box
Result: High Risk, Zero Success
Option 3: grab onto a branch and hope that their magic holds
Result: Low Risk, Medium Success
The possibilities few through their mind at the speed of a rocket. Before they knew it, their hand shot out to the nearest sturdy branch. Their arm extended, wrapping once and twice.
In the moment, they closed their eyes.
This would hurt.
A lot.
On the bright side, they let go out the ape so they weren’t going very fast. Unfortunately, comparatively not going very fast doesn’t do much for an arm that isn’t meant to stretch more than 6 inches and forced to stretch to 12.
They should’ve bitten on a stick.
They bit their tongue, holding back a scream. The pain took wind right out of them. They choke and sputter as they struggle to remain present through the onslaught. For a second there, they could’ve sworn they lost their arm.
They smack into something. Hard.
The branch.
They reach out. Their arm failing around, barely useful as they bonk between branches before finally they land flat on one. For a second, their vision shorts out. with the last of their strength in their arm, they sob trying to lift it, they were slipping
“Nononono.” Stumps and all, they tensed every muscle as if the universe would finally let them get off this rollercoaster.
For awhile, they lied there. Waiting for the last shift in the wind to throw them off. Gasping for breath while their head wrung like a bell.
At some point, the wind slowed. They tentatively shifted their weight. Somehow, they got back to the center of the branch.
Time passed weirdly between the spinning and gasping. They didn’t so much as process anything but everything hurts until they heard Rust’s voice talking to someone else.
Who were they talking to? They sounded… familiar.
They try to sit up but their arm screams at the slightest movement. They squinted at the fissured bark pressed against their cheek. Breathing ever so slowly, they scooted in very tiny movements. It still hurt but not blindingly.
Not that it aided in their reconnaissance one bit. Their vision swam in and out of focus. Whoever this human was, they had some sort of spikes attached to their orange head. Do humans come with spikes? They can have implants. Maybe.
The wind picked up again, throwing their arm this way and that. They bit down, bracing for the pain. At least the overstretched pain in their arm made everything feel like a walk in the park in comparison.
Once it passed, they examined their surroundings. From the looks of it, they weren’t far from their goal. Their target branch was only a couple feet down and pointing in the same direction as this younger branch. It’d be a pain rolling up their arm like a scarf but they’d carried an overstretched arm for longer. Fortunately, this time, all they had to do was crawl straight, no jumping required… only strategic falling.
The climber dismissed the thought.
Should they retract it? Rust would notice their absence any minute now. Even if retracting it could render them unconscious, they could pretend they liked it that way until they got inside. They’d slept in their ice bowl before. Precedent is as good as guarantee.
Then again, they hadn’t pulled it to this length before. Would they even be able to resist retracting it?
Rust said a water elements bodys’ were unique for being able to heal themselves as soon as they were out of danger. It made them resistant to injury, localizing it in body parts and capable of minimizing pain, they can’t do it indefinitely. Soon as their body aren’t under strain, it’d snap back. A bothersome injury could knock leave them bedridden for days or worse… unconscious.
The bitty sighed. They’d cross that bridge when they came to it. Until then, they would have to trust they could resist retracting for the time being.
A sinking feeling settled in the bitty’s non-existent stomach.
Semi-lucidly, the bitty inched themselves forward. Every time they move their arm, the slightest touch of bark against it felt like a billion knives.
Soon as they reached Rust, everything would be fine. The ice water would kill the pain. In a week, it would be like nothing happened. All they had to do was hold on a little longer.
Luckily for the bitty, the path to the mailbox was localized along a single branch.
Not so luckily, it had to be at least 12 feet off the ground.
Perfect.
That leaves one option. They would have to lose their form to minimize damage.
Unpleasant but survivable.
This close, the spikey orange human came into focus. White plastic spikes sprouted up from their orange helmet. The chestnut-skinned child rode their skateboards in circles around Rust.
Good. The climber would need Rust distracted for what came next.
The bitty watched in fascination as the skateboarder glided down the concrete jungle, easily evading curbs and trash lining the street. The skateboarders online held out their arms but the child didn’t have any, instead bending and leaning like a cattail in the wind.
“tada~” The child gracefully dismounted, popping their skateboard up and catching it between their legs.
That voice… that was MK, the human Rust spoke with during their smoke break last week. The climber’s memory struggled to stretch that far back but it was there. Foggy. Oddy enough, Rust wasn’t angry. Instead the skateboarder was. Something about being wrong about something-or-other. Beyond that, the bitty’s mind drew a blank.
Rust smirked. “is dat the same nugget that ate sh*t every day? nah, couldn’t be.”
“You don’t know the half of it! I’m way out of old me’s league. I did a front slide in the skate bowl just the other day.”
“bullsh*t.”
“I did!”
“No pics, didn’t happen.”
“Backpack, top pocket.” Rust took out their cell phone. MK said their passcode at the phone several times they access the video.
By the time the bitty counted down to zero, another minute had passed. Rust still hadn’t looked away from the upstart’s phone. Some of the tension melted from Rusts’s face, intensely focused on the screen as if that was all that mattered in the world.
Despite having no injury to their chest, it ached.
“Hard part’s the jump.” To the upstart’s credit, their feet nearly were at Rust’s shoulder height when they jumped. “Check it!”
MK dropped their skateboard, shoving it into the nearby grass. Their nose scrunched as they bared their teeth in challenge. No sooner had the younger met the older’s gaze did they break into a full-on sprint. Not a block away, they take a hard turn, disappearing around the corner.
Good.
None of that was remotely worth remembering anyway.
Stil, the ache in the bitty’s chest tightened.
What was wrong with them now?
Sighing, they returned to counting down again. They knew they could survive the jump. Jumping while injured and jumping while health always felt very different.
Part way through their count down, the smacking of feet against pavement drew their attention.
The upstart returned.
Head down, sprinting faster now, knees high.
“so you can run? big deal! i’ve seen tots run faster.” Rust egged them on.
MK leapt off the ground. Higher even then when demonstrating to Rust. Time seemed to slow. Their legs turned in midair as they pushed off the wall. Rolling further and further forward until… They’d flipped and hit the ground again first. Their hightop sneakers skidding slightly before breaking into back into a sprint.
After that, it wasn’t so much thinking.
The human barreled toward their flight path with reckless abandonment. Rust stepped back. Mana burned off them entirely unrelated to the pain in their arm and body.
Rust called. “ya didn’t eat sh*t this time. Not bad, small fry.”
The last thing the bitty remembered was the way MK’s face broke out into a big smile and how it made their whole body catch fire.
The climber drove head first off the branch. Just before they hit, they shouted. “Take that, charlatan!” They slammed into MK’s face, spreading over their mouth and nose as they lost their form until MK shouted and clawed like they were acid.
“And don’t ever come back!” They withdrew enough of them to exclusively cover MK’s eyes. The bitty savors the way MK shouting. The pain of their overstretched arm slapping against the human, threw off their concentration. It’s amazing the impact didn’t even hurt that badly.
Lots of the satisfaction of inflicting pain, The climber barely heard all the shouting around them. Between the ringing in the bitty’s ears and all the failing, they can’t make out much.
At some point, someone pulled on their arm. They felt the pain but it was distant again. They reform to their usual form aside from their arm. The ringing lessoned, MK exclaimed. “Whooah, that’s so cool! Is it dead? Can I hold it?”
As their vision came back, they caught a glimpse of MK dark maroon blotches pepper their cheeks and around their eyes.
The climber lunged for MK. No soon had a familiar beige colored hand tucked them away into a puffy parka. The smell of smoke thicker than before. The climber murmured. “You were smoking weren’t you.” Their voice coming out coarse as tree bark. “Did you know… smoking, even 1 cigarette a day… makes you 9 times more likely to contract lung cancer than someone whose never smoked?”
Rust hurried past MK who struggled to keep up. “I heard water bitties can go through walls? Is it true? Can I see it?”
One look from Rust and MK’s smile vanished in an instant. “ThanksMrRustSeeYABYE!” They kicked their skateboard far ahead of them. With a running start, they leapt on, darting out of sight.
Rust stepped into a nearby convenience store, grabbing a cup. A teenager with almond colored skin and cat ears called, “that’s 2 dollars.”
Rust reached over the counter and grabbed a cup. The bitty expected the teenager to get angry. Anytime they took things usually the humans got red in the face angry. This one just sighed, looking with disinterest at the door again.
Rust filled the cup that must be a foot tall with water and ice. Their grip on the climber shifted. The bitty whined, clinging to Rust as pain radiated out from their arm, making it hard to breathe.
“Do you want me to spit on you?” The bitty wrenched their eyes shut, breathing slow. The shift in weight bumped their arm. It shouldn’t have hurt. They glance over to it, seeing it had partially retracted. “I could be amendable.”
They’re shifted again, this time, the climber wheezed as a sharp pain made their vision blur. “S-stop stop stop.” The bitty hissed. “I.. slowly… can’t.”
To Rust’s credit, this wasn’t like the dunking they received this morning. The ice parts beneath their feet at a far more gradual pace. The chill crept up them like a grim reaper. Rust not letting of of them until the water reached the climber’s chest. The process must’ve taken forever but the bitty bet it was only a minute or two. They drifted to the bottom of the cup. The sounds of the fast-food joint dimmed to mere echoes.
The time beneath the water blurred into a bulging amorphous thing. All the climber knew that they remained there until they felt like they could breathe deep down into their belly. The pain still gnawed at their nerves but it’s controlled enough to reincorporate their arm.
Or try.
The climber pulled in enough to cut it to half the size before the pain made their vision swim again and curl around the throbbing appendage.
Perhaps, they slightly misjudged the severity of putting all their pain into a single limb.
Their skin prickled, suddenly becoming sensitive to the slightest shift like a dozen needles pricked their skin.
A tapping came from outside the cup. Reluctantly, they breached the water, shoving aside ice cubes. It felt like the cup was lined with a billion knives.
The ache in their chest grew worse upon seeing Rust. It wasn’t the anger that burned in their eyes but how it had cooled since then into a molten ember. It reminded them of the day Rust brought them home. This was that day. The bitty shrank.
It left a weird feeling in their chest, as if they were lost.
“where do ya live?”
“drinking this early in the morning? Tut tut.” The bitty croaked.
Was it a test?
The other owners had tests. Rust was a guardian. Their last guardian said they didn’t do test so why did it feel like there was a wrong answer.
Rust shook their head. Not even rising to the prodding.
The floated on their back, closing their eyes. Then again, if they didn’t answer, they wouldn’t fail the test. “Hmm.. feels good.”
“Runt.” Their words come out firm but not harsh. When the climber ignored Rust, the grumpy human sighed. “this s’ why we got names, bud.” The exhaustion dripping from their tone.
“Then pick one. You are my guardian, aren’t you?”
Rust shook their head, squeezing the space between their eyes, letting out a slow breath. “fine. squirt. yer squirt but just for today.”
Squirt blinked. That had been a joke. “Okay?”
What was happening?
Tests didn’t involve naming…
Was this a test at all?
“what’s yer address?”
“What kind of test is this?”
“kind that tells me if yer sick.”
“Fine but just so you know I will pass with flying colors. 1438 Magnolia Avenue #204, Ebott, Pensington, 82320. See?”
Squirt searched their eyes like there’d be a flashing red sign declaring what all this meant.
Rust nodded, the hardness shifting from their jaw to their eyes. “Day?”
“June… late June. It starts with a two… Why?”
“year?”
Squirt paused longer on this. Noticing an advertisem*nt in the window, they read it back, “20XX.”
“what’s yer soul feel?”
Squirt squinted. “Can I ask for clarification or will I be deducted points?”
“sure.”
“Elaborate.”
“does it hurt? too light? too heavy?”
The bitty nodded slowly, their mind coming together on the more challenging question. “It doesn’t feel any different than usual.”
“Squirt…”
The name squeezed their soul like a stress ball.
The bitty exhaled roughly, diverting their attention to more pressing things like blowing bubbles. They swallowed copious amounts of water until their stomach bulged.
“can’t getcha help unless ya tell me—”
The water bullet shot out of their mouth before they could think about it. It smacked right between Rust’s eyes, leaving a little red welt. “A healthy bitty couldn’t do that, could they?”
They tried to dive beneath the water but Rust blocked them with their hand.
Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.. Rust had been angry today. Then again, Rust eyes still had that hard look, no burning. “ya sure ya feel.. whole?”
“Let go! I need to swim if I’m to recover even marginally…. Ugh! Does the water look grey to you, dimwit? It does not. Obviously, I am not falling.”
Rust checked, to their surprise. They rub the bark and moss filled water between their fingers. “Good… good.. No shoulder for a week.”
Squirt went limp in their hand, groaning. “Tell me your emotionally unstable without telling me your emotionally unstable. I performed an amazing feat and you think disobeying one order means you must punish me?” They sigh. “If you’d seen how I swung off your shoulder, you would’ve been giving me a standing applause. Few bitties could perform such a tough climb so soon after an amputation.”
Rust slowly dumped out the warm water, siphoning more cool water at the bitty’s feet, occasionally spraying it into their face. They sputtered. It’s not as if a human could drown them in water, they could breathe air above or below but it was still rude.
“how about now? still too light?”
Admittedly, the light headed feeling had faded. Squirt blew bubbles beneath the water. “maybe…”
Rust nodded, handing them one of the balls they like to hold while bathing. “I’ve been out for 3 days! The coddling is unnecessary.”
The doorbell jingled. Rust’s head jerks toward the sound. Squirt sighed.
This would take a while.
“Say the alphabet.”
“I didn’t fall. I jumped.” Rust didn’t say anything. Their face unreadable in its discernment of the bitty. “That upstart deserved it.”
Whatever Rust wanted to see, they must’ve seen. Sighing, they stare at the ceiling. “this ain’t about MK--
“Someone needed to teach them a lesson in humility before they get too full of themselves. You, on the other hand—” Squirt hissed as the ice cubs slammed into their oversensitive magic. “—need to stop kicking the table. I’m not made of porcelain but I have my limits.”
“did you? didn’t notice.”
Taking a pen from their coat, they start writing on a napkin. One the top of the list, was ‘more pouch time.’
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
For the first time since they sat down, Squirt’s chest felt heavy with malicious intent. “says the bitty who can’t go a day without bruisin’. makes a joy think ya like gettin’ hurt.”
What can they even say to that? They clearly didn’t. The sky was right there. It’d be insane not to try to reach it. Right?
A few minutes later, Rust asked again about the alphabet. Once they refused to recite it again, Rust acquiesced.
Rust slammed the rickety wooden door. If their shoulders had been hiked up to their ears before, they were covering their head now, like bald eagle readying for the dive. Though their gaze remained defused.
“What about the mail?”
It took Squirt repeating themself upwards of seven times before Rust changed course. The disturbed human kept a slow pace but the continual shifting graded on Squirt. Diving to the lower most recesses of the cup, they treated the walls like fire. Only once the shaking stopped, did Squirt resurface.
Curses flew from Rust like the ratta-tat-tat of a riffle.
Squirt held their tongue. Rust could be more amendable once they had a victory under their belt.
A flood of pulpy ads and stiff envelopes cascade out the moment Rust attempts to extract one. Rust cursed it out.
At this rate, there would never be a good time to ask. “Rust, do you that dental floss in the tree over there—"
“stay still. done in a sec.”
Their magic bubbled and hissed. Hours spent tieing all that boetie pasta would not go t o waste. “Rust, it would only take you a minute. I don’t expect you to get all of it. Whatever you can reach will be sufficient.” Squirt winced the ice cubes ground on their tender magic.
Perhaps they should’ve left all the pain in their arm.
“RUST….” Squirt whine.
“don’ see no rope.”
“You are the worst.”
“s what they keep telling me.” Rust grumbled.
Temptation crept into the climber. If they shot them in the face… no.. Rust more likely would find the attempt at persuasion amusing than acquire the rope.
Rust sifted through the mail, dropping the adds and keeping the letters. Not even acknowledging it.
“Comyet Insurance?” The earlier that month, Steel had dispensed insurance as part of Rust’s “chore list.” Though, this wasn’t the one from last week. Last week, it had a green apple logo. This one had a smiling skeleton head with an ink plot on their cheek. “I thought you already paid insurance this month? Sour Apple for medical and… Peñaloza for the car.”
Rust rubbed at their face.
“What are all these other insurances? I thought you only had one.”
Rust shoved it into their pocket. It was overflowing so they slide out. They started crumping them to fit.
“It’s rude to ignore them all. You should tell them they have the wrong address.” Squirt sat up a little taller.
“they know. just want ta sell ya sh*t.”
Rust riffled through the letters, discarding several ending in ‘Bank.’ One of the bank statements had a similar initial to the one Steel posted to the wall. “Is this Bofa?”
The instant Squirt looked to Rust, the sh*t eating grin, Squirt instantly wanted to take it back. “No. Don’t start this nonsense with me.”
“start what?”
“I’ve seen you do it to Steel a dozen times. I won’t fall victim to it too.” Squirt turned away.
“Sure ya don’t want to know what bofa means? It’s really important. Bet Steel would be real proud of ya if ya knew.”
“I highly doubt that.” Squirt hissed. “Perhaps you should tell the companies your wonderful discovery about their acronym. I bet they’ll be thrilled to know.”
Rust previously said that their insurance didn’t like being ignored. Part of why they couldn’t go to sleep until real late putting the letter in the mailbox downstairs. Surely, the same applied here.
“maybe I will.”
“What if they send you ‘hate’ mail?”
Online, the climber saw many a discussion on the subject. None of it particularly pleasant. They weren’t sure what doxing was but it sounded dangerous if it involved computers.
Rust’s eyes twinkled.
Squirt shook their head, flipping over other mail before Rust could stop them. Unlike the stiffer “junk” mail letters and softer bills, one letter stood above the rest. The envelope light blue envelope read ‘First Class Mail’ with a little hour glass symbol in the corner.
“What about this one?”
Rust casted them an annoyed glance. Squirt huffed. The air felt heavy even without being against Rust’s soul.
“I’ve thought of a proper name… for tomorrow.” Squirt blurted out, relieved when Rust perked at the change in subject.
Squirt desperately looked for inspiration for a name. Anything would be better than sitting in that heavy feeling. It felt as if their soul would break being near any more negativity. Thankfully, the nearby alley possessed an abundance of words gracing it’s brickwork. Most were too stylistically drawn for Squirt to read but one that must’ve been written in a small chrome marker stood out. ‘The Great Pillock,’ it read, along with several crudely drawn hammers with oddly shaped handles.
“Pillock.” Squirt summed their most self-assured voice.
“…huh. Never heard of Pillock before, where’d you come up with the idea idea?”
“I…” Squirt swallowed, trying their best not to look at the wall. They didn’t even know what it meant. For all they knew, it was like “puss* cat” and “balls.” Both of which incredibly unfunny words that for some reason made people go wild.
Though the way that Rust frown, unsurprisingly it irritated them too.
Rust followed Squirt’s line of sight to the alley. “dick, really? if yer not gonna take it seriously. I’m gonna call ya squirt t’morrow too.”
Somewhat relieved, Pillock would’ve never worked anyway. “How was I supposed to know that?!”
“that’s a dick.”
“A what?”
“a penis? bud, ya know what nuts er. don’t play dumb with me.”
“When have you ever known me to pretend that I don’t know something?”
Rust stared, jaw hung open long enough to catch a billion flies. “ya don’ know what dicks er, do ya?”
The whole conversation made Squirt want to tear their non-existent ears out. “I may not know what a ‘dick’ is but I’m well aware it’s something that shouldn’t be shouted in public. Steel wouldn’t be telling you not to put it places otherwise. Not that I can understand why they’d be upset where you put your hammers. Is penis a type of hammer like dick and wily?”
Blood vestles popped along Rust’s forehead as they strained to follow. “you think… a dick.. is a hammer?”
“Isn’t it?” The only drawings that Squirt had seen resembled hammers. It was curious why everyone grew so happy or disgusted by a hammer but humans also inexplicably hated a particular kind of cat for some reason.” While thinking equally hard, Squirt caught the start of a smile playing at Rust’s otherwise stiff features. “Why are you looking at me like that?...”
“let’s getcha a fresh bath, kid.”
In an instant, their magic turned up to a boil. “I’m NOT A KID! Attempt to embarrass me all you want but I know when you’re attempting to ‘rile me up.’ Just so you know, it won’t work. You’ll have to try harder next time.”
“sure kid, yer nailing it.”
Steam rose from squirt’s head. “All right! Put me down. Right this instant. I do not have to tolerate this humiliation.”
Patronizingly, the buffoon pats Squirt on the head. “Without your hand!” They headbutt said head, whining as their body protested at the abuse. It merely earned more laughter from the merciless guardian. “RUUSST! I will swim through your computer until it’s no more than scrap metal if you don’t put me down right now.”
Rust kept laughing all the way to the elevator. Squirt hadn’t even known their building had an elevator, Rust and Steel always used the stairs.
“sure ya will.” His grin grows wide.
“I’ll track mud through it too.”
“huh, that’s too bad.” Rust considered it. “Guess you won’t be able to look up sh*t.”
A knot formed in their non-existent stomach. A heavy feeling settled over their shoulders again. Something about the air down this corridor didn’t feel right. They dismissed it.
“Steel will let me.”
The elevator door opened. A hooded neighbor, Cha, so tall they barely fit into the elevator joined them. Jet black makeup rounded their eyes, making them pop like search lights in the night. When Cha smiled, it showed off their sharpened canines. “Didn’t know it was kitten season already. Should of went to the rhodies to get mine too.”
Rust put a smile that could cut a diamond. “nah, what ya shoulda done was moved yer lil buisness into charlie’s. sewer rats should stick together, doncha think?” Their gaze drops below Cha’s belt. “bet ya’d get way better service down dere too.”
“then I wouldn’t have meet chu, darlin’.” Cha whistled. “now that’d ‘ve been a travesty.”
The heavy feeling from before Squirt recognizes from Rust. Even with their casual slouch and banter with the other human, it started to get suffocating being in such close proximity to Rust’s soul.
“I’m glad that Cha is—” Rust covered their mouth.
“almost there.” they whispered.
At Squirt’s squirming and muffed words, Cha’s gaze sharpened. “Teacup’s looking pretty worse for wear. What did ja do? Kick em on the way home?”
“Hahaha, good one. fun fact, bodies show up in ditches all the time. how much do ya bet they’ll care ‘bout one more?” Rust shielded Squirt from view.
The atmosphere in the elevator grew thick as molasses. Their own anger the only thing shielding them from drowning in it.
Loud chewing sounds filled the elevator. The elevator doors wheezed open. Rust continued at a casual pace until out of the elevator room, they speed walk, letting go of Squirt’s face. Squirt gasped in appreciation of the fresh air.
“You covered my mouth!” Squirt shouted. “How dare you! Do you know how bad your hands taste? It’s like swallowing sea salt.”
“says the bitch saltier than the dead sea.” Rust pounded on the door. “Mail for Captain Jackass.”
What felt like hours later, the door swung. “You better have—” Their eyes landed on Squirt, they stepped aside.
Rust made a beeline for the sink.
“Ow! Rust!”
“didn’t ya say it didn’t hurt?”
“It doesn’t have to hurt to be ---OW!!!!” In grabbing a pot, Rust nearly dumped Squirt onto the floor. The tumble sending a stabbing pain through their whole body as their arm retracted. Huffing and puffing, Squirt wrenched their eyes close as pain erradiated from seemingly everywhere.
In all the chaos of pots flying and water rushing, Squirt expected Steel to shout their two sense into the mix. To their surprise, Steel remained in the corner, tapping at their arm as if waiting for something, eyes never leaving them.
Another sudden jerk dragged another moan from Squirt. “no more moving.”
All of a sudden, they’re slowly lowered into a freezing pot of water. The chill digging wrapping around their weary magic, choking out some of the pain in the shock. The pain still threatened to tug them apart but it was if a tiny barrier kept a small part of it at bay, letting them open their eyes.
In an odd moment of clarity, Squirt wondered why the kitchen had grown so quiet. In all the time they’d been with the siblings, neither allowed a moment to go unfilled with quipping and badgering. Yet, the two stood guard above them, like two centurions tasked to keep the worst of the world at bay.
Or perhaps that was merely their mind degenerating.
Steel reached out. For the first time, Squirt for some reason wasn’t scared. “Are they falling?”
“they’re fine. nothin’ lil time won’t fix.” The shorter’s gaze remained on their thermometer.
“They look like sh*t.”
Rust sighed, shoving Steel out of the way. “next time I find floss on the counter, s’ your head.”
“That’s not fair!” Squirt blurted.
Rust dropped a lid atop them. When Rust left to grab something else, face tight like they’ll punch something, Steel came over, taking the lid off.
“Why do I ever speak if you never listen? They had all the signs. I assumed that you’d have noticed.”
“s not like all the kids wear striped shirts! how the hell was I ‘posed ta know? ‘sides ain’t that the thing yer supposed to tell a guard?”
Steel fixed Rust with an unimpressed look.
“I am most certainly not a child!” Squirt shouted. “Let’s say for a moment, I did admit that what I do was dangerous? (Which it was not.) I successfully mounted a tree via swinging on rope, through high winds and I calculated the perfect timing to let go from the rope to sustain minimal damage. Isn’t that indicative of me possessing the higher reasoning capabilities of an adult?”
Rust leaned so close to the pot that Squirt could smell their breathe. “ya gotta balls, I’ll give ya that.”
“Rust…”
“CAN-IT!” Rust snapped, standing up.
“ya know what this suicidal f*ck did last time. hell! i keep findin’ new bruises since lettin’ em roam free. yet yer givin’ me sh*t? HA! this little sh*t is the most impulsive thing i’ve ever met. it’s a miracle it wasn’t dust the moment it left the flower.”
“sounds familiar.”
Rust’s laughter turned mean and rotten. “if this thing’s got that big of a death wish, maybe ya should guard it instead.”
A chill crept into their magic, entirely unrelated to the cold. The way the ice bobbed around them felt unreal. Something must be wrong with their hearing. They’re hallucinating. Yes. That must be it.
“Rust. Take a shower.” Steel ordered, turning to Squirt. “Have you eaten today?” They don’t wait for an answer, taking out this and that. By then, Rust had already left.
Squirt noticed a rubber ball bobbing in the pot. They flop over to it. Something felt right about staying close to it. The earlier mind numbing pained returned. It crushed their throat and threatened to pull them apart.
They forced themselves to speak.
This could be salvaged. They only need to stay a little longer. “Steel… I know we haven’t always seen… eye to eye.” Their head felt too heavy to look at the way up to Steel but they could at least feel their gaze.
Squirt’s tongue comes up dry. “You cannot truly believe I’m this naïve child that Rust makes me out to be…. Would a…” Their throat closes up for a moment as they struggle to get their breathing under control. “Would… a child be able to do what I do? How about read? I know a wealth of information about all kinds of flora and fauna. Isn’t that indicative of me being mature?”
Steel sets a tin of muffins in front of Squirt.
“How many?”
“This is hardly the appropriate time to take inventory.”
Steel doesn’t say a thing, waiting patiently.
Squirt huffed. “Fine. 24.” They say without so much as looking.
“What’s 5 plus 9?”
“This is a waste of time.” Squirt resumed their examination of the ball.
Steel knelt so that the two are at eye level. Somehow the proximity made it all the worse. “How much do you remember of before Rust found you?”
The bitty froze. Not due to Steel’s proximity but the strange nature of the questions. It felt familiar, but not in a good way.
“A lot but that’s beside the point.”
“How many did you have before Rust?”
…
“It’s a simple question.”
“1.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course, I’m sure!” Squirt snapped.
Steel stood up, continuing with food preparation before setting the muffins and finely chopped vegetables and fruit beside Squirt while setting a larger portion on their own plate.
Squirt stared at the strange food, unsure what to make of it.
Is this why Rust didn’t want them? Is it because they were missing something other bitties had?
“Eat.” Steel ordered.
There had to be something else that Squirt could do. Rust may need something. They merely needed to find out what Rust needed and fulfill it, then they could stay.
“Breathe.” Steel growled, hand on the bitty’s back as they gasped for air.
It was all wrong.
Rust stood behind Steel. Like a ghost. Watching. Judging. They could feel the tension in their bound.
It’d break.
They just know it.
“I—I -I need my rope. Someone’s going to—”
CRACK!
Steel whorled around. Rust’s hand had gone clear through the wall. Blood streamed off of it as they pulled it back. Their eyes met and it felt like Squirt looked into an inferno rather than a person.
The wind shifted.
The inferno blew out the door.
Squirt blinked. It felt like the whole room flipped upside down.
First, they’re in Steel’s soft hands, watching the way the nerves twitched.
Something happened.
They know it did.
It’s like the thing happened. Then someone put it in a box. Squirt may be in the same room as the box but they can’t open it.
Why can’t they open it?
It’d like it’s covered in so many locks that each time Squirt thinks of anything else, it relocks itself.
Somewhere else, a baritone voice announces. “Ferns, unlike other sporophytes goes through two separate generations…”
They shift their attention to the figure looming above them. All jagged edges, standing still as a rock.
Time passes in a malaise of flicks of photos. It was so close they felt like they could could grab onto a memory but they kept slipping away.
Something soft rubbed against their cheek. They pick at the strange material. Felt. Their fingers hurt simply pinching it. Head hurts. God, everything hurt. The kind of hurt that an ice bath wouldn’t take away.
The scent of laundry and mint filled the room, so alien compared to the musk that Rust’s room smelt of. On the other wall, Steel tapped at their keyboard, back straight as a rode. Despite the umbrella covering Squirt, there was too much light in the room. Rooms were meant to be dark and cave-like like Rust’s.
It was all wrong.
Rust left.
Rust doesn’t want them.
New grating pain filled them. They let out another pitiful whine. Rust would’ve been able to handle it. They’re strong. All Squirt had to do was prove that they were as good as Rust and then Rust had to take them back.
They’d have no choice.
All of a sudden, they’re scooped up gently and played in a cool ice bath. Squirt drifted to the bottom, staring up at the fracturing world. The rippling waves kept out the horrid smells and sounds of the outside word.
Someone spoke softly.
It didn’t matter.
Squirt’s squishy mind had already drifted off to sleep.
