Arlo used to have so much faith in the authorities.
How stupid did he have to be when this is what they were doing behind everyone's backs?
Cross posted on AO3
Cover was made by itsmebobette
P.S: This has now become a Jarlo fanfic courtesy of Triple...
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EEEEEE! I LOVE IT!!! I always appreciate stuff like this! Thank you so much!!!
Also, sorry this took so long to get out. A lot of stuff came up and then I lost some of my work ;-; Thankfully I got it back though! Thank you guys for being patient with me as well as all of you guys reading, liking and commenting. It always makes my day to know you all enjoy my stuff! ^-^
Now, time for the next chapter! >:)
Hope you guys enjoy!
Love ya guys! ^-^
-KittCat
"...Your mentor is-...?!"
It couldn't be...
Surely he'd heard him wrong.
Maybe it wasn't even the same person.
But that was one hell of a stretch that even John couldn't justify.
Because who else named Keon would also be taking care of troublesome children?
Who else but the same man? The same man who-...
His forehead met a cold table, stars dancing over his vision upon impact. Pain blossomed through his skull and for a brief moment, he felt his consciousness falter.
Thick and rough fingers had an ironclad grip threaded through his unruly locks, shoving his head down, down, down to the point he thought he would break through the surface beneath his nose.
His ears rung, even without the man above ranting with increasing pitch to him about knowing his place, a place he would soon find out was far beneath such an imposing figure. The pressure against his neck grew and John worried his head would pop right off his spine if he continued to press any further.
Yet even still, the grip didn't let up, the pressure didn't give way. Even when his head was yanked back up to face the man, the ache in his skull only grew without bound.
His throat closed up, his head filled with cotton and he couldn't see, couldn't think, couldn't- he couldn't-
Blue eyes bore down on him even through the haze of his own memories and they wouldn't go away-they wouldn't shut up! Those eyes were cold as was the hand belonging to them and he wasn't sure who screamed louder: him or the voices in his head cursing him with their morbid rhymes:
