Ruin Maketh Me

22 - He Remembers

Ralphus

     Pain.
     Fear.
     Hatred.
     Then through the darkness comes a warmth. It travels down his head, his neck and envelops him entirely, gently. Who?
      —everything's going to be fine."
Ah. So calming, so kind like blue skies and apple tarts and the smell of wind with the neigh of horses.
    "Don't worry, nothing bad's going to happen—
    It smells like dew and grass and laundered sheets, so nice. He struggles closer, nearer to that summer sun warmth and scent that cradles his heart so much, it's like he's at home... Home?
     Pain.
     Fear.
     Hatred.
     Juliu—
      "It's ok, I'm not going anywhere."
It's ok. He's home. No pain, no fear, no hatred, just butter coziness and this soul warming smell. As long as this person, this person's here, everything's fine. He's safe. White clouds, long grass, Who? But he can't think right now, doesn't want to. Everything's just fine.

     He wakes. His eyes flutter open and above him is a white ceiling glowing blue and grey in feeble morning light. The air smells heavy and stale. It's not the scent of home, so where? He doesn't remember for a split second. And then he does. It all comes flooding back to him: Julius, Lutra and Zus Kade, the suffocation and pain, the sex and the darkness unspooling within him like a leaking sewage.
Ralphus sits up, whisks the already loose under-sheet from beneath him and wraps it around his hips. Even if he ignores it, he can still see the patches of darkness spanning his body from the corner of his peripheral vision. He lifts his head a bit higher and pads across the room to the bathroom. Strangely enough, that place down there feels much better than all the times before, at least it's not leaking. A sour taste wells up in his mouth. Don't think about it.
     He fills the tub with hot water. Watching the guggle of water pass through the tap into the white enamel tub is in some ways, comforting. The darkness shifts away from the surface. See, it's getting better, the equilibrium is closer. One day he'll be able to be as still as the water in the tub.
     The warmth soaks through all the aching crevices of his body. Familiar... Some faint glimmer resonates in his mind. He had slept well last night, strangely so. Somehow with the two months he's been with them, it's become routine to wake up predawn, fight the gut wrenching aches and stare out the window at the moon, the darkened sky, the faint outline of overbearing clouds. Anything. But last night, it had been different. He did not wake up, and although he could still faintly remember some fitful tightness in his chest, he had slept until sunrise.
     What had it been? Some sort of warmth, a good smell that reminded him of home. Or, at least, that place that used be home.
     Ralphus rests his head in his hand. The cupboard door opposite seems to be slightly ajar, and in the laundry basket there are two crumpled towels. A spark shoots through his unusually sluggish brain, there had been no leaking today, no cum in that place. Someone came last night and cleaned him up. His fingers clutch the edge of the tub tightly. Who?
Grey hair, tempest eyes, a body as frail as a leaf. That human boy, was it him? After all, they had bought him for this purpose. Julius's darkened eyes blaze into mind. At least, that used to be the boy's purpose, but how long they could keep their hands off the human, he didn't know. His fingernails dig into the ceramic coating.
That boy... It couldn't have been him. He's too volatile to hold him by his side and coo him. Indeed, how could a human encapsulate the aroma of home, no matter how godly? How could a human calm him with just a mere hug? He wouldn't have let the boy touch him in the first place.
Ralphus steps out of the tub and grabs a large towel from the open cupboard. He's getting nowhere. There's no need to know who it was. But, what is this, this desire? If only it's unbearable disgust at the idea of someone else touching his body, but it's... not. Bloodlust does not ignite at the image of the boy's delicate hands moving up and down his body.
It's a want for that same warmth, to be able to sleep at night again. He can't deny it, but he pushes down the urge in his feet to find the boy. Julius Kade already has too much interest, and if he were to seek that Cynder out— the boy will be devoured. Ralphus rips the towel from his body, and stalks back into the bedroom. No, he can't let that happen.
     Taking out the Academy's uniform from his Space Ralphus dresses into the starched shirt and pants nimbly. He has to meet the Kades, go down to breakfast, if it really was the boy, go to the scheduled lecture with the Kades, if it really was the boy.
      His thoughts halt to a creaky stop again.
      If it really was the boy, he nuzzled against his thin body yesterday night like an injured dog. A wave of heat rises up Ralphus's cheeks, but immediately he clenches his jaw and the flush fades. Useless thoughts. Slipping his feet into a pair of black leather boots, he laces up with several violent tugs that give a satisfying burn to his palms.
He has to compose himself. He can't forget the reason he's here. So what does it matter if it was or wasn't the boy? What does it matter if he brought temporary peace? He has to fight on for blood and what little shred of honour he still has.
Ralphus buckles Aureus to his belt, lifts his head to the ceiling, gives a sigh of contentment at the familiar weight by his sides and starts towards the door without the slightest flinch. Then, as his head swings past the bed and bedside cabinet, a bottle of cream presses into view. A small, glass bottle. The same bottle the boy had held in his hand.
     It really was him.
     A small crack runs through the stone fortress of his heart.
Cynder Delphus, you....