Troval

Chapter One - Wylans POV

*still in the works - updated every Sunday either with a new chapter or edits of an old one*

                              。。。。。

Wylan hits the floor with a sharp crack. The breath escapes his body in one sharp huff leaving him wheezing. The air leaving his mouth visible in the crisp morning air.

'Your dead!', yells Thomas. 'If I was the enemy you'd already be gone,' he states deadpan, just as he had the other 9 times Wylan had ended up on the floor, broken , bloodied and out of breath.

A hand wavers half visible in Wylans hazy vision, offering a reprise from the floor he'd become accustomed to. Personally he was surprised his body shape wasn't molded into the ground from the number of times he'd ended up there in the last 2 months of living with Thomas.

After a moments hesitation he  takes the offer, grabbing onto the steady hand of his only friend, trying desperately not to place his weight onto him. He hoped he could save some shred of dignity by at least standing up on his own.

Sparing a quick glance down he was surprised to find nothing was broken...yet, but Thomas would be quick to fix that soon enough. Though it was two in the morning the pair had been working long after the others in the boarding house had fallen asleep, hoping to catch up on training he'd missed on his mission for the dean.

The dean. A sharp edged man who never spoke to anyone apart from his assistant and whom no one ever saw apart from the annual graduation ceremonies, or if he showed a particular interest in your talents. Just as he had Wylan and his ability to move unnoticed through shadows that one night two months ago. He was the kind of man who paid using deeds, not one to cross with if you weren't one of his.

Wylan had been living on the streets for two weeks when the dean offered him a place to stay, the price being his services and unyielding loyalty. By this point he had run out of money and was painting the portraits of passing tourists to survive. Without any belonging to carry with him Wylan quickly accepted the offer without a backwards glance at the alleyway he'd slept in for weeks. He hadn't been back since, even going so far as to avoid the block altogether when he left the walls of the boarding house, which was rare within itself, and if everything went the way he'd planned, he never would pass through that alleyway again.

Through the months he had quickly earn his place amount his peers as one of the favoured ones. He found himself a new member of the small group that didn't pay for their beds, at least not with money. Thomas was also one of the group of 7, and was the only person who appeared not to share the same struggles Wylan did.

The nightmares followed each of them. You could tell it in the sunken holes beneath their eyes, and the hollow looks the gave that pierced even the toughest of souls. The way their skin pulled taught upon bone as if they hadn't eaten in months, though they were always kept well fed. The dean made sure of it.

Thomas was somehow different. His brunette locks caught the colour of the dim light in ways that weren't before known to be possible to Wylan. His quick looks and easy smiles caused something to stir within him, though he couldn't place his finger on what it meant, or how it made him feel. Thomas was by far the best in all the physical combat classes, whilst Wylan felt more comfortable in seated, preferably non fighting situations. Such as science and demolitions, his personal preference.

Their unlikely friendship- well more like alliance had sprouted when the dean had asked Thomas to teach him how to fight (after he'd been beaten up on his latest job and he'd had to stumble back to the academy at an unholy hour). Thomas had helped clean him up. His body so used to feeling nothing but pain, Wylan had flinched away for his soft touch.

For hours after Thomas had gone to bed, Wylan sat staring at the spot where their skin had met, running his hands across the delicate patch of pale skin, now branded with the memory of Thomas.

That night as the darkness bled into the early morning hues of yellow and orange, Wylans mind wandered as he rose to brush his teeth before the many members of his room arose and his bubble of silence burst into the sounds he'd become accustomed to in his new city life.

He kept repeating the same word over and over.

Thomas. Thomas. Thomas.