Chapter Text
Grasping Mys' hand in mine with perhaps excessive force, the both of us venture together beyond the sleeping quarters, and through the shelter's all-too-familiar facility. Just before rounding the corner after the entrance corridor, my sensitive ears identify sounds of movement from behind the concrete. Immediately, I halt my breathing to avoid accidentally disclosing our escape, whilst clamping the dangling piece of metal in my better palm to muffle any noise. My partner subsequently replicates my actions in haste. Warily glimpsing towards the grand exit, I'm able to discern the silhouette of the noiret, apparently in the middle of locking the establishment's main gates. I'm about to dash out in desolate agitation when the tinkling sounds of keys abruptly cease. Pausing the motion of his fingers, as if deep in second thought, he consciously unfastens the mechanism with an inhale-exhale of certain determination. I stand frozen in a mix of shock and relief, the emotions transitioning to despair as the noiret's piercing eyes coincide with mine through the dark. He curiously stares back at my involuntarily shaking form, intentions indecipherable. Finally, he dons an opaque smirk and mouths the words "good luck out there", entering the staff's dormitory on the right before closing the door soundlessly. As the confrontation ends, I spend a moment to process the aftermath of the noiret's sudden cognitive dissonance and his uncharacteristically obscure cordiality, still maintaining midnight's diaphanous silence, unsure of whether to curse or to thank this enigmatic individual.
"Arty!" Mys' vigorous yet quiet whisper returns me to our current predicament. "Are we not rather in a hurry?" Nodding apologetically, I cross the final stretch between entrapment and freedom, my associate trailing behind in tandem. Exchanging an affirmative glance, we quickly crack open the ajar door, plummeting into the city's streets once more.
"S-so." I refocus my attention on Mys' unsteady voice whilst we traverse along the unsanitary sidewalk, the broken-off chain on my collar jingling in our wake. "Have you a destination in mind? You don't intend to wander around without rhyme or reason, right?" Almost misstepping on my other shoe, I ponder my answer to their question. "Most certainly," I reply with brief hesitation, pathetically feigning confidence. "I've sworn to protect your safety and wellbeing, whatsoever the cost. Don't you recall that, dear?" Before they've the opportunity to complain about my horrendous acting skills, I promptly escort Mys into a random empty alleyway, one relatively cleaner and tidier in comparison to other alternatives. In front of the distant wall, I notice a couple of pieces of thrown-away cardboard next to a single threadbare double-size mattress. Mys somewhat enthusiastically opts to collect the former, whereas I approach to investigate the latter. Reaching out my hand to gently stroke the fabric, I discover it to still retain some elasticity despite having withstood the passage of time, and to be pleasingly comfortable. "That's quite some wondrous fortune, Arty!" They chirp insouciantly in response to the report of my serendipitous finding. "Imagine configuring a temporary residence for both of us. Such profound coziness..." I'm unable to keep myself from chuckling at the sight of Mys' rambling. Their prodigious ability to dream and to wonder as if bereft of worry delights me always.
After removing the various debris from the mattress and crafting a makeshift rain cover with the cardboard, we repose in utter exhaustion on the surprisingly stench-free bedding, in spite of the abundance of trash in our vicinity. Turning my head left, I face the other's placid resting expression, before gazing into the unintelligible prints on the cardboard's surface, letting out a sigh as I gradually drift off to sleep.
An intermission from this endless endeavour.
"Listen to me, you fucking mutt!" Their thunderous voice rings inside my head, derailing and expelling my train of anxious thoughts. Their towering form arches over my feeble self, as if a predator hunting prey, whilst I hastily back up against the wall in fright. "You belong to me," they continue ominously in anger. "You are my property, and I'm your owner. You are to obey each of my commands and comply with my every demand, without any question or reaction." With no prior warning, they furiously wrench my leash towards them, dragging my collar and body close with one hand, and poise to strike my face with the other. Fortunately, the repetitive conditionings greatly sharpen my reflex, enabling me to involuntarily raise my arms and block their sudden attack. It still hurts on impact, though at least not anywhere more vulnerable.
My instinctive act of self-defence unfortunately agitates my aggressor further, reading the action as spite, or rebellion and transgression. "How dare you?" A forceful kick in my stomach catches me off guard, knocking me off balance and possibly inducing bleeding, yet I don't bother checking. The immediate conflict preoccupies my cognizance and numbs the excruciating hurt in my abdomen. Ignoring my wound, they point a finger at me, resuming their despicable speech. "Well, you're still acting as if you were some precious royalty, aren't you? Maybe you'll finally learn your fucking place after this punishment, little stupid ugly mutt---"
For some reason, I decide to fight back. I bite down on their digit with the remainder of my strength before withdrawing in shock and regret of my unconscious retaliation. Blood begins to flow out as they shriek in a mixture of pain and rage. Clutching their bleeding finger, their face contorts into something disturbing. "You..." They growl, their volatile temper seeping through. "I'll have you dead!"
I jolt awake suddenly from my nightmare, panicking as I find myself in the asphyxiating grasp of pairs of limbs. At once, I fling away the interlacing restraints and back off from the unknown danger, reflexively guarding myself with a defensive stance to shield my head. When my breathing and heartbeat each revert to a steady tempo, my originally blurry vision clears to reveal Mys staring back at me with their hands in the air, shuddering in alert. "W-what's that for, Arty?" Their voice quivers from exertion. "Do you really perceive me as a threat which demands such violent offences, dear?" After a couple of moments of information processing, I'm finally able to comprehend the misunderstanding. I feign coughing to conceal my sheer embarrassment, before explaining to my companion, "Mys, I'm incredibly sorry. A rather unpleasant dream was startling me to an immoderate degree, causing me to disrupt your slumber with my overreactions. Please, accept my apology." Hoping for Mys to pardon me again, I bow slightly whilst fidgeting with the leather of my collar.
"For the millinillionth instance," They hurriedly respond. "It's nothing to worry about. Just precarious accidents, right?" Donning that familiar disarming smile, they place a hand delicately on my shoulder. "Besides, the incident's my fault to begin with in actuality. I too was having an especially frightening nightmare, so naturally I opted to... cling to you for comfort amidst emotional turmoil..." Looking elsewhere as they bashfully profess, Mys' cheeks gradually blush a deep vermilion, a shade coincidentally matching their attire's colour palette. In complete surprise at their revelation, I simply observe Mys' sheepish demeanour with certain intrigue, extending a gentle hand to nudge their stupid forehead. "Listen please, Mys. Do try not to overthink anything now," I begin, half in exasperation and half in amusement. "Let's relinquish this minute event behind us, for we ought to begin the day soon. Alright, dear?" With a fierce shake of their scarlet face and that so characteristically bright grin, Mys chimes in. "Of course, Arty. What's the quota for today?"
"First and foremost," Warily, I begin, still recovering from the mishap. "We must search for a method to sustain yourself and me." Turning to my dear associate, I remark on their expression of bemusement and head askew over their right shoulder. With a sigh, I inertly continue, "In other words, we'd better obtain some food, Mys." "Ah, indeed..." They nod incessantly, perhaps out of an embarrassingly sudden epiphany. "Well then, what's your idea to achieve that, Arty?" They inquire of me, with a glistening glimpse, so pending a reply. Feigning a cough, I answer casually, "Either we somehow acquire employment for remuneration, or..." I hesitate for a short while, before resuming my sentence. "Or, we've no alternative except resorting to mendicancy." Staring into Mys' indeterminate countenance, I'm unable to anticipate their reaction to my proposition. "Arty, dear..." Eventually, they quietly mutter, tone uncertain.
"What's the definition of that terminology again, 'Mendicancy'?" Burying myself in palms from exasperation, I rebuke in vexation, "Beggary, Mys! It's just an uncommon synonym for..." I pause abruptly, noticing the fright shown on their face, and immediately regretting my preposterous tone. "I again apologize for my indecency in intonation. I---" I indicisively stutter, wondering whether the following constitutes a just explanation or yet another excuse for misbehaviour. "I'm currently under insurmountable stress for various reasons, and hence..." I trail off to silence, cursing myself for attempting to evade consequences with an inapt subterfuge, as well as further exacerbating my remiss error. Far too suddenly, everything grows beyond the capacity of my consciousness. The constant escape, the unending danger of this foreign place, my inexplicable outburst at my precious companion, all my woes and fears that our continuous motion once kept at bay now inundate my brain.
"It's your fault again," an once-familiar voice bluntly states. "You're always to blame. You've known that well, don't you?" The voice's right. All along it's been nothing but correct, so why'd it be wrong now? "Yes, you're right," I quietly confess, in utter shame.
In vertigo, I crouch down on the mattress, unable to keep myself upright. My breath quickens against my will, starving my blood of oxygen and obscuring my vision as anxiety overwhelms me. Unconsciously, almost reflexively, I grab hold of my collar as my mouth utters and repeats that familiar phrase, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry..." Penitence for my wrongdoing, for my insensitivity, for my inferiority. A familiar pair of hands grasps at my forearms with familiar strength, signifying the imminent punishment, retribution I so much deserve. They shake my insignificant form, the usually violent action now surprisingly gentle. And yet, why---
"Arty... Arty! Are you alright?" That voice rescues me from the descent into the depths of my psyche. A hand repositions my head to face forwards and look into a blurry visage. "Oh stars, you're so obviously not..." A few tender taps to my cheek draw away my focus. "Are you even able to hear my words? Dear, you need to recompose yourself, so please... I promise we'll be fine. Please, listen..." As the world materializes around me, I inadvertently gaze into the eyes of my companion, worried streaks of tears lying in parallel. I sigh once more, wiping away the moisture on Mys' face with trembling fingers as they clear away mine. They wear that characteristic grin again, softly patting on my unsteady shoulders. "Don't go back anymore, alright?" "I'm really sorry." One more repetition, and I lapse into Mys' embrace.
"So, as I was speaking of..." After recollecting myself again with Mys' invaluable consolation, I continue despite sobs haphazardly impeding my speech. "I suggest we each undertake an option. How about this distribution: I seek employment in this metropolis, whereas you remain near our shelter to engage in... beggary, for the lack of a more understandable word." I risk a glance at their face, searching for any symptoms of discontent or objection and thankfully finding neither. "If you've any amendments to this draft of labour distribution, I'll be glad to comply immediately," I quickly add, in order not to offend by accident, even though my addition appears to be rather offensive also. "That sounds alright to me, Arty! I'm not much of an employee myself, so perhaps you'll do better than me..." Mys' childish grin and their ever-nonchalant chuckle are the panacea for my worrisome thoughts. Another sigh of relief from me.
We plan to spend the rest of the day preparing for our respective duties. After crafting rudimentary garments from string and remnants of linen covering our mattress, I attempt to purge the dirt staining my outfit with water from a convenient faucet nearby, whilst Mys ransacks the dumpsters for some markers. They reach up the alley's walls to dry the wet fabrics of my attire, as I change into my rough, dress-esque new clothing before inscribing onto a piece of cardboard with our newfound stationery: "STRAY DOGS IN NEED, APPRECIATE FOOD OR ANY OTHER MEANS OF HELP." I grimace at the degrading and humiliating sign, and proceed to shake my head profusely with a sigh of resignation. As they switch into their set of nightwear, the both of us settle down into the comforting suppleness of the mattress, gradually falling asleep in partial relaxation.
The next day punctually arrives, as usual. I hurriedly don my previous apparel, now completely void of moisture after hanging in the wind overnight and fortunately much cleaner. I bid Mys a temporary goodbye, departing from our refuge. They finally stir from their sweet dream, before vanishing from my field of view as I turn about a corner of the street.