Chapter Text
The first one to reach out was not Lighter, but Wise.
Hey, sorry to ask this but could you pick up Belle? I’ll meet you at the café two blocks down. Was sent to him just as he was leaving the gym to walk to the daycare.
Lighter considered ignoring him or telling him ‘No way, why should I?’ But he thought of Belle.
He saw her sometimes, waving at Laurel as they left. Withdrawn and quiet Laurel would always wave back, if more sedated. That girl was trouble, and she was pulling Laurel into her shenanigans. Laurel’s red, pouting face when Lighter came to pick her up was childish.
Lighter was grateful.
So, he agreed.
When he told her the situation Belle’s face, to his surprise, went blank. She was quiet, pensive even, as Lighter signed the two girls out with a loopy ‘Lighter Lorenz’. There was an ugly stroke of vindication that flared up in him, that he wasn’t the only disappointment. He swallowed it down with guilt, remembering that Wise was in a similar boat to him.
As they left, the sun bright and the air hot compared to the artificial lights and air-conditioning of the daycare, Belle changed her tune and broke out in excitement, bounding over the threshold.
She gripped tightly to Laurel’s hand.
“We get to hang out more!” she squealed.
Laurel nodded, smiling.
“This ain’t a playdate,” Lighter reminded her, “the Café ain’t far.”
“The café ain’t far,” the little girl mocked, then stuck her tongue out, “five more minutes is five more minutes, duh.”
Lighter felt a bit sorry for Wise.
The café came into view, Wise standing under the awning. He was wearing a face mask and looked tired.
Hm… thinking back, Wise had looked tired the last time they met too. Lighter wondered if his initial impression of a student was still correct.
“Hey,” Wise greeted, lifting a hand.
“Wise!” Belle ran over, friend forgotten.
She waved her arms up, asking to be picked up, and Wise acquiesced, grunting with the exertion. Which was ridiculous, Lighter could probably pick Wise up without effort.
Wise gave the impression of a smile at his sister, his eyes crinkling.
“Sorry, Belle,” Wise looked to Lighter, his eyes were more intense than Lighter recalled, “thank you, I really—”
He was interrupted by Belle. She reached up, quick as a whip, and hooked a little finger in the top of the mask to yank it down.
Lighter watched as Wise’s eyes widened, not realizing how intently he had been staring at the other man’s eyes, and then noticed the bruise on his cheek.
“Belle!” He hissed, bringing a hand up to pull his mask back over his nose.
Now that Lighter knew, the peak of red creeping just above the mask was obvious.
Wise glanced at him and then looked away. He chuckled nervously.
“Like I was saying,” Wise said, nervously adjusting a quiet Belle in his arms, “thank you. I owe you one.”
Lighter should have said, “It’s fine” or “We’re even now” but instead he says—
“Who hit you?”
Wise froze. His calm and sage demeanor melted away to one that was closed off and suspicious.
“It’s none of your business,” he spat out, then in rapid succession, “it was an accident, my fault a—and Belle’s not in any danger.”
Lighter frowned.
Wise seemed to have realized how each clause was contradictory because he pressed his lips together and looked away. His hand curled possessively around Belle, tucking her head against his chest.
“I—,” Lighter breathed out a frustrated sigh. It wasn’t any of his business and he didn’t have time to worry about anyone but Laurel, but the sliver of empathy left in his heart quailed at how Belle had hidden her shaking hands by grabbing Laurel’s, “I’m not gonna report ya.”
Wise seemed to loosen.
“Thank you…”
He thought of Belle and her shaking hands and then wondered if that’s how she would be at Wise’s funeral.
Fuck.
“Come with me.”
“Huh?”
He felt Laurel squeeze his hand.
“I got more than a few compresses to help.”
When Wise didn’t move, Lighter sighed.
“C’mon,” Lighter grabbed Wise by his arm and started dragging him.
He could feel Wise tense like a rabbit but Lighter ignored it and continued on. They marched in silence, Belle sullen, her face tucked in her brother’s neck and arms tight around him. Laurel had fallen to walk on the other side of Wise, staying close to her friend.
Their place was small and bare. Lighter dragged one of the two chairs that were tucked under the table and deposited Wise in it. Wordlessly he turned and opened his freezer. Lighter paused, looking in at the frozen chicken, bags of veggies that could be microwaved, and the cold compresses.
What am I doing?
Sighing he grabbed one, wrapped it in a towel, and handed it off.
Wise went to take it but Belle snatched it out and pressed it firmly against his cheek.
“Ow, Belle...”
“Sorry…” Belle mumbled.
Wise sighed and smiled. He ran his fingers through her hair. It looked soothing. Lighter glanced at Laurel and wondered if the next time she woke up crying if it would help.
“It's fine,” Wise said, “thank you.”
Belle frowned. She pursed her lips, cheeks puffing.
“You should just let Lighter beat them up!” she shouted.
“Belle!”
“Laurel said he’s tough! He punches people at his job!”
Laurel nodded.
“He is tough,” Laurel said, “but he can only punch people at his job.”
“So… We would have to take them there?”
“Belle, no.” Wise glanced at Lighter. “Let’s talk about this at home.”
Tears pricked in her eyes.
“No! You’re just gonna get hurt again!” She sniffed. “You’re so dumb!”
She dropped the ice pack and ran off. There was only one hallway and from the sound of the door slam she had stomped her way to the bathroom.
“Belle!” Laurel called out, alarmed but hushed.
She went after.
Lighter sat with Wise in silence as they listened to Laurel knock.
“Can I come in?” they heard her ask through the door.
A tense moment for all was had before the doorknob turned and then both girls were hidden away in the bathroom.
Wise looked down at the compress in his lap.
“You should… Keep that on.” Lighter finally said.
Wise snorted humorlessly but did so.
“… So… You never answered my question.”
Wise looked up.
“Hm?”
“Who gave ya that bruise?”
Wise pouted mulishly, looking just like his sister. Then he sighed and sat up, a genial smile on his face. It was an impressive mask.
“It’s a client who got a bit upset. It happens.”
Lighter snorted.
“I can’t think of a lot of workplaces where you would end up with a punch to the face.”
“That’s rich… considering how we first met.”
Lighter crossed his arms.
“You could barely pick up a seven-year-old, you trying to tell me you’re a fighter? Try again.”
Wise looked up at him with narrowed eyes.
“Why do you care?” he asked.
Lighter looked away.
“If I tell you, will you tell me who hit you?”
“…”
Lighter sighed.
“Belle’s hands shook when I picked her up… Laurel didn’t shake at her parent’s funeral, but after...”
Wise looked up at him.
“Neither of us were sad,” Wise said.
“Hm?”
Wise sighed and shook his head.
“It's nothing… Never mind.”
“… You’re pretty good at this, huh?”
“Good at what?” Wise asked.
“Avoiding questions,” Lighter shook his head, “I worked as a mercenary, kid. It’s not gonna work.”
He could see Wise’s eyes go to one of the exposed scars on his arm.
“… I do what I have to, to keep us afloat,” Wise told him, his gaze snapping back to meet Lighter’s.
Lighter straightened. Wise’s eyes were piercing. There was no insecurity or wavering. Wise had… just admitted to something, and to Lighter’s frustrations there were too many ‘somethings’ it could be.
Lighter opened his mouth to ask but they both quieted at the sound of a door opening.
Laurel’s knuckles wrapped on the wood door to the bathroom.
“Can I come in?”
For a tense moment, there was no answer. Laurel wasn’t worried.
The door opened, Belle’s big, round eyes looking at her, checking behind her, before pulling it open for her.
Laurel entered and Belle closed the door behind her. Her friend’s face was blotchy and tears were running down her round face. She hiccupped, lip pouting.
Laurel sat down on the mat, back to the wall and Belle sunk down with her, sitting so that she could press her chin into her knees.
“I hate him,” she mumbled into them, “he’s so stupid. Unweliaball.”
“Unreliable?”
“Yeah…”
Laurel looked down at the mat. She plucked at the fibers.
“… You shouldn’t be so mean to him.”
“Whose side are you on?!”
Laurel huffed.
“I mean he got it from his job, right?”
“Yeah…”
“Things are expensive,” she thinks of Lighter sitting in the kitchen looking at receipts, “and if your brother didn’t make money then you wouldn’t have food or a room. I mean Lighter comes back with bruises.”
“Th—that’s different! Your brother is strong! My brother is so del-i-cate!”
She worked through saying the last word, just like Laurel had taught her when Belle had opted to sit with her and read at playtime.
“He’s not my brother,” Laurel rushed out, “he knew my parents.”
Belle blinked.
“Oh.”
She frowned and wiped her eyes. The tears had slowed.
“My parents are dead.” She looked at Laurel. “I don’t know if I miss them, though.”
“Oh. Why?”
Belle shrugged.
“I dunno.”
Laurel sighed.
“… Do you think Wise is mad?”
“Hm… Why would he?”
“Uh! Cause I called him names!!! And pulled his mask down and— and argued with him in front of people…”
“Oh. Lighter never gets mad at me.”
“That’s cause he’s not your brother.”
Laurel frowned. She sucked in a breath and stuffed the hurt down.
They sat in silence until Belle’s tears calmed fully and she started wiping at her face.
Laurel sighed and grabbed some toilet paper.
“Come here,” she stood over Belle, who obediently got up, “how bad do you want your brother to feel?”
“Huh?”
“If you don’t want him to worry, we can cool your eyes down. But if you want to make him feel bad you should just go out like that.”
Belle was looking at her weirdly.
“Why would I want to do that? … Well, I guess he should feel a little bad.”
Laurel nodded and wiped Belle’s face clean but left her eyes red and teary.