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Rumble, boom, crash!
Each harsh clash and deep, guttural rumble from the angry sky was enough to shake even the solidest of buildings. Ones made of even the heaviest bricks and cements would shudder, even the thickest roofs and panes of glass in the windows were being pounded on relentlessly by the weather. Alaska was never particularly known for having good weather. It was a cold and dreary place to grow up. And maybe it was because he was still so young at this point, but the purple clad boy had never experienced a storm so nasty.
Another roaring crash of thunder caused the little boy to emit a high pitched shriek, followed by a fit of fearful tears. He was shaking and scared and yet a little part of him was almost thankful for the thunder, at least it muffled out the voices of prisoners from the nearby cells hissing at him to shut up. He didn’t know what to do at this point. Helpless and stuck in that god forsaken cell, pressing himself as far back against the almost moist cement of his bedroom wall, trying to seek comfort in the coolness of it.. It only made him shudder worse. He hated that his dad left him down here, so far away and out of reach. The Warden reassures himself that’s the reason his father doesn’t come to his aid. His little voice, no matter how hard he strains, is not loud enough for him to hear from so far away. At four years old, you lack the critical thinking skills to realize that his papa had made the conscious choice to put him so far away in the first place. And later on in his life even far into his forties, it’s still more pleasant to push that nagging little observation away. Out of sight, out of mind.
But regardless of then, this is now and now is scary. Now he is little and has zero control on the situation. Stuck in a sticky, claustrophobic cell that’s being shaken so harshly that his candle night light had clattered from its shelf to the ground. The room was dark now, and when his voice cracked and ran horse from his attempts to call for his papa’s comfort he knew there was no hope for him. His father wouldn't be coming to his aid, the storm would not stop, and he was as alone and helpless as ever to fix it or do anything about anything at all! It was out of his control. Everything always seemed to be.
It’ll be different one day, he swears to himself. When he is big he’ll always be able to keep himself safe. To be safe you must be in control, that's what lacking it has taught him.
He was stuck and he would surely die there. Drown in the pricklingly cold rain, being sloshed around by it as if he was trapped in a current or the waves of the ocean. In the overactive mind of a toddler this was vivid, The Warden could feel a hot burning in the back of his little throat. He was certain it was caused by the icy water he’d choke on when the storm's rain puddled up into an ocean and came to crash over him and swallow him up. Or maybe that feeling was a mix of his raw throat and the sickness he had begun feeling in his tummy starting to crawl its way up it. This squeasy, gut wrenching anxiety his mind and his body were both too young to process had only been growing the longer he sat there. The storm was coming for him.
It was times like this where he felt his mothers absence the most, not because he thought she could protect him or that she could have been the one to hear his cries, no. But because he wished so badly that he knew how to use his powers, the powers he was gifted from this woman he had never known. Powers that felt more like a curse. He thinks to himself that if his mommy was here even if she only had been for a little while, surely she would’ve shown him how to protect himself from the storm. But she wasn’t. His powers were much stronger than he could ever understand at this point, but useless with his lack of ability to manage them. He thinks his father is hindering his growth, he wonders if his mother would disapprove of it.
Silent lightning streaked across the sky, momentarily illuminating his room. He clasped his hands over his ears as he knew what was coming before it even hit. He counted, counted how his fathers assistant had taught him to do between the lightning and thunder. The older man told him it would let him know how close the storm was to them depending on how many seconds went by. He did this each and every storm.
One mississippi, Two mississippi.
The clap of thunder that came next shook the world harder than any other before. It was strong enough for The Warden to feel it in his core. though maybe that was from how badly he was shaking, but he wasn’t old enough to be logical like that during emotional distress. And actually, The Warden would never reach that emotional maturity. All he knew right now is that the storm was nearly right on top of them, ontop of him. It was coming to get him! His heart sank and out of desperation he thought to do the one thing even a four year old little boy knew how to do in the mid sixties.
He clasped small little hands together and inched up onto wobbly knees and he prayed, he prayed like his heart depended on it. He prayed the way he watched priests do during their towns occasional public lynchings, he prayed the way his father told him normal little boys were intended to do. He prayed to the God he had been told wouldn’t want to hear his blessings, the one who his father insisted he was not the creation of. For he was no normal little boy, and was definitely not one of God. He’s inhumane and sinning for just daring to exist. The powers he wields were what kept him isolated, what strew him so far from this so called ‘God’. He has never been taught to properly do prayer, only that if he was normal it would be what's expected of him, and he knew they wouldn’t be answered by any higher power, not for the likes of him. And yet he still did it. Because what else could he do?
He wonders if his father viewed his mother and her powers with the same hatred he did to his. And if that was the case, why bewed to her? Have a child with her? What was the problem with him? The little boy's heart twists with a sense of resentment towards this woman. What made her holy that he did not have? He wonders what he ever did to deserve this curse, to be shunned out by the one being that is supposed to always understand. The one who is all knowing and all powerful and should be able to understand more than anyone else that all he wanted was to be good, to be forgiven for the sin he cannot help but have within him.The one being in the world that regardless of anything should love him and protect him unconditionally, the one that should be protecting him right now like he so desperately needs to be-
The Warden forgets which man he is praying to now, God or his father. He thinks neither are there and neither will save him. He is certain neither of them understand that he truly is human. He is a little boy, a very scared one.
He doesn’t even pray again after that. He knows nobody is there. And if someone is, a god who sees him as such less for a birthright is a god he wants nothing to do with.
He thinks maybe he would certainly make a better God.
The lightning surely strikes something outside, and The warden tries hard to not imagine the lightning bolts being thrown to strike him down for even daring to have such a thought. He doesn’t know what to do now, the thunder claps menacingly not even a second after the yellow flashes. The storm is here, his father isn’t here to save him and neither is god. He doesn’t think either ever would be either. All he can think to do is hide under the sheets and grip at his hair, knees pulling up to his little chest.
He feels like he is four again, the storm is surely out to get him.
Wait.
He is four. Isn’t he?
No.. No no, that simply couldn’t be right. He wasn’t four and he definitely wasn’t in his fathers prison or hiding under his scratchy sheets.
He blinked hard and the bright coloring of the rug covering his office floor almost made his head pound harder than it already was. A rug, he saw a rug and a pushed away rolly chair. He was leaning against something. What was it? Wood? Oh. Right, yes, He was curled up under the desk, his desk. The desk that he owned in the office that he owned in his Superjail. A place that was miles and miles away from Alaska and in turn his fathers prison. A prison that had long ago closed down, a father who had long ago passed away.
And yet that same storm seemed to be here, sending him back to that night.
It pelted those big intimidating glass windows with heavy rain. The same windows he normally adored so much, the ones that loomed over and looked out on the one place he had ever had true control over in his life. The one place he was supposed to be safe, and yet the storm had still found him.
The way his memories were melting into reality was disorienting. his hands covered by nice silk gloves and yet he knew they were just as cold and clammy under them as they had been all those years ago. No suit or fancy desk took away from the fact that the power was out, and the candle light only did so much to challenge the inky blackness pouring in through the windows. He was alone, and everyone who could save him can’t and won’t. He reminds himself that he cannot rely on others for safety, nobody had ever been able to to do that and yet he still feels a need to call for someone, anyone. But no words came out, just choked syllables lost in the thunder. It was useless, it’s not like he knew who he wanted to cry for anyway.
His shoulders fell with defeat as it happened all over again, he had no control, he was helpless and alone. Even with all his power he was still just a scared little boy. All he could think to do is the only thing that managed to get him through that night.
He cried. He cried and cried until his cheeks were streaked red. He cried until cries were sobs and he couldn’t tell what was louder, the thunder or him.
Either way whichever it was both managed to completely drown out the sound of knocking at the door, once and then pause, then again and a pause.. And again.. And again, until at some point the knocking turned into the door opening. His name was being called in a jittery, hesitant little voice though The Warden couldn’t hear the knocking in the first place, nevermind the door opening or the voice. even the thunder itself was faint to him now, his heart pounding in his ears and his hysterical sobbing muffling everything out.
“Warden- Warden, I’m sorry, sir, but- but I tried knocking! And I-”
He didn’t hear him of course, sobbing heavily into his hands.
“..Sir? Are you in here? Uh, H- Hello?”
He definitely heard the voice that time, the sound of it more than the words. It was uncanny and vaguely familiar.. But he couldn’t place it even as he searched his hazy mind. The Warden was far too distressed, experiencing extreme tunnel vision the more his memories warped and molded into what was around him now. He didn’t move an inch when steps made their way closer and rounded the desk, he was certain whoever it was was peering under to look at him.
“..Warden, what’re you-? Wh- Warden?! Oh my- sir! Are you okay?! What's the matter?! What- did- did something happen?!”
He had no idea how to go about answering that question, if he wanted to even, so The Warden chose not to acknowledge it entirely. He just shook his head at the person trying to talk to him. Normally he’d tuck his face into his elbow, turn away and hide the shake in his voice when yelling to be left alone. The Warden didn’t have enough emotional control to not cry when he needed to, but normally he did have a sense of shame about it. Not now though, he could barely tell what was really happening anymore, nevermind worry about his ego staying intact. He kept his eyes squeezed shut tight as if doing that would somehow make the person stop trying to talk to him, and a part of him really did believe they’d eventually go away.
But of course they didn’t and suddenly he was jolted back to reality at the feeling of a little hand touching his shoulder, then trailing down to squeeze his arm. His eyes shot open and every hair on his body seemed to stand on end like a threatened cat. As soon as The Warden's eyes opened though the culprit pulled away and put them both in the air- as if expecting to be shouted at or swatted away. But the warden didn’t, just staring at the brown haired man who had crouched down and joined him under the desk. Had it always been so spacious under here, though he’s sure there really is that much space, as Jared’s knees brushed his side.
“H-hey! Hey, warden, sir, it's just me! You see me, don’t you?” Jared paused for a response, searching his bosses eyes for recognition that seemed to be vague at best. “It’s me, Warden! Y-You know your- your assistant? Your accountant? You know me!”
The warden shook his head again even as his eyes darted up and down the man, it almost seemed like he wanted to recognize him. Though when he didn’t he began rocking himself in an attempt to self soothe. Jared had known his boss for what felt like his entire life now, though in reality it has been five years, and yet he had never quite seen the madman go.. Well, mad- in such a real way. He had never seen his boss cry like this, and for a moment all of Jared's self help books and college psychology class information he had learned was down the drain. That is until warden let out a little hiccupped sob and jared was reminded of his promise to The Warden, he said he’d always protect and serve him. He told himself he could do this, he could help. He had to, for his Warden's sake.
“Uh- Warden, sir, can you help me with something? U- uh- okay, um, o- okay- can you tell me one thing you can smell?” The accountant held up one finger, watching the cogs seemingly turning in his disheveled boss in front of him.
“Wh- what? Why would you need me do something like-””
“Sir, please! J-just focus i- i promise this is worth it as silly as it may feel! Can you do that for me? Just try this once?! Let me help!”
He furrows his brow, letting out a shaky breath as he looks away from the person and around the cramped space he now shared. The warden wants to scoff, to yell and throw a fit, Because where does this person get off telling him to do something like that at a time like this?! Despite that frustration he finds himself complying, inhaling the best he could with his stuffy nose. Trying to smell anything other than the cigars his father smoked.
“Uh.. well um- I- I smell.. My.. perfume..”
“Good! Good sir, that's good! The- uh- the- the sweet one you like? Is- is that it?” Jared asks, trying to further prompt his boss. In response he gets a head nod and a small smile, followed by a mutter of ‘cotton candy’ as answer to his question. He was thankful for progress, that the black haired man was too tired to fight him through the whole thing. “O-okay okay.. Good.. Thank God, okay! This is good, how about uh- two- two things you hear? Can you do that one now, s-sir?”
“U- uh- well.. Um, the prisoners?” It was more of a question than an answer.
Jared furrows his brow at that and glances around, listening for any possibility of the sound of the inmates. Sometimes they could be heard from the courtyard, or echoing through the hallways. But with the storm, today was not one of those days. He shakes his head at his boss “No- warden, sir, please- please don’t make stuff up. I get your scared but just- just try again. I’m making you do this for a reason, it won't work if- if you fake it, sir.”
The Warden groans, straining his ears to hear any sounds besides for his loud heartbeat, swallowing hard to try and repress it down. He hates that he had to lie on something so simple, that he was in a state where he couldn’t process the world around him to this degree. It took Jared asking him once more to gain the purple clad man's attention once again.
“You! I can hear you! I.. I- I hear you, your voice, does that count?”
“Yes! Good, that does, uh- can- can you hear anything else? Just- just one more thing?”
“I.. I hear rain. Against my windows, its- its loud- I hear that.”
He couldn’t exactly focus on the praise the other man gave on the forefront of his mind, but his subconscious sure did seem to. The warden's face flushed and he could only imagine how red his ears had gotten, he had barely done anything and felt rather silly for feeling so validated by the quiet, reassuring ‘you’re doing good’ the other had given him. His tears were slowing and while his breath was still quick and ragged, this was certainly a step in the right direction
“We’re almost done, warden! I- I promise, just one more step after this u-um- okay, can you tell me three things you can feel?”
He looked down at himself in thought, using a hand to wipe his eyes. The side of his glove was getting damp at this point and he moved to wipe it along the carpeted floor in an attempt to dry it. He hated the feeling of his gloves getting wet. Oh, wait. He paused and perked up a little in his realization.
“My gloves. I- I feel my gloves, and the rug and.. uh..” The Warden glanced around for anything else he could feel, pausing when the man beside him didn’t hold his hand out but slid it across the rug between them. He didn’t lift it or initiate but It was a silent offering, one he was open to ignore if he wished.
But he didn’t.
He slid his own spindly hand over to take the smaller one in his, sniffling as he looked down at their hands. “You’re hand,” The brown haired man squeezed his hand in response, The Warden revelled how warm his was compared to his own. “And it, um, squeezing mine. I- I feel that.”
Jared stared at The Warden a bit longer than he needed to, subconsciously brushing his thumb against his hand. “O-okay, that’s good. Um, one last thing, o- okay? Just, um- take a- a deep breath and tell me four things you can see. You can do that.” He insisted.
“I see.. The carpet, with the- the swirly patterns..”
“Okay, good! Now what else, sir?”
“My.. top hat, it's over on the floor.. And- well, the desk, I can see the sides of the desk..”
The Warden pauses, squinted his eyes until they landed back on the person in front of him. Jared. Oh yeah, and to think a few minutes ago he had no idea who had been talking to him.. But here he was, as clear as day. Jared. He let out a shaky breath, finally having gotten ahold of his hyperventilating and crying and the world made a lot more sense now.
Except for Jared, that is, and his hand being locked in wardens. He swallowed and gave Jared a small little smile, weak and tired, but genuine. It was returned by the shorter man beside him. Huh, that felt strange.
“You,” He eventually manages out after another minute, though when Jared only blinked in response he continued further. “You, I see you, Jared.. You’re my fourth thing.”
“O- oh.”
“Wh- ‘oh’? That's what you have to say? Did I do it wrong or something? What even was the point of all that? Making me explain half of our surroundings whilst in the middle of a clearly very emotional moment!”
Jared jolted, face flushing up pink in slight embarrassment. He let go of his boss's hand to wave his own in the air defensively, “Oh no no, sir! You- you did that really great and I- I’m sorry if I overstepped I just- I- I- was trying to calm you down! It was just something I was taught to- um- ground myself, I guess. It worked, didn’t it? I- i mean.. You’ve stopped crying.”
The Warden thinks over what his assistant had said.. Feeling his face flush as he did. Nobody had ever bothered to help him through something like that before, and he has this feeling like even if they had it wouldn’t have worked as well, because a part of why it worked is because it was Jared. Unpacking that was too much right now though, so instead he turns his attention to stare forward at the side of the desk, just trying to recollect himself. He glances over when the sound of shuffling catches his attention, only to see that Jared has scooted closer to sit beside him, his back now also against the wood like his own was. Normally when someone got so in his personal space he’d shoo them away, though right now it didn’t feel needed. He didn’t even really want to, if he was honest.
He kept his legs tucked up against his chest and jared folded his own criss-cross, and they sat. Both not really knowing what had just happened or where to go from here.
“..Do you want to talk about it?” Eventually Jared asked what The Warden had been dreading since the comfortable silence had overtaken the small space they sat in.
“No, Jared, not really.”
“Oh.. But sir, I-”
Jared would’ve typically expected to be cut off by his boss suddenly raising his voice at him or groaning loudly in agitation.. But no. Instead he had cut himself off when turning to his boss only to be met with the most pained expression he had ever seen on the older man's face. He frowned deeply in a way that made his slightly sunken eyes more obvious and the soft wrinkles he had under them more apparent, his brow furrowed in discomfort, and the look in his eyes even behind those brightly colored glasses was exhausted and begging.
“Please,”
“Okay. That's okay, sir, we- we don’t have to.. I won’t make you.” Jared quickly cut The Warden off, not something he was typically willing to do but.. He wants his boss to feel like he had to justify not wanting to talk.
“Uh.. sometimes.. People don’t need to talk, r- right? Sometimes they just.. Need to be with someone.” He reassures further, giving him a slightly forced reassuring smile to mask his worry. “..If you want, sir, I- I could bring you to your room? Retiring early on an evening like this won’t be an issue. Not- Not that I don’t think you could stay up, of course I- I know you could! I- I just- I mean-”
The Warden chuckled, amused by the way the smaller man attempted to scramble and save himself from his boss, possibly misinterpreting or twisting his words.. And as tempting as it was to mess with him he couldn’t bring himself to right now. “Jared, Jared, Jared relax.. Relax, it's okay. I know what you mean,” He reassured. “I’d like that.”
Jared stared at him for a moment as relief swept over him and suddenly his cold sweat felt a little less deserved. He chuckled weakly and fidgeted with his hands, giving a small nod and the mumble of a ‘yessir’ as he began to get up from his spot.
“Oh! Wait! No- no not yet!”
Before he could even begin to shuffle from his spot his arm had been grabbed. Jared yelped at the small yank, looking back to his boss in bewilderment and then down at his hand around his arm.. Watching it slide down to instead hold at his wrist. He felt his face burning as he shuffled, squinting at his boss to be met with his harsh glare and an unmistakable quivering lip. It was clear the older man was trying to keep it together, though fearfulness shined through the yellow tinted glasses.
“Wh- but- but sir, you said-”
“I know what I said, damnit! I just- I.. I can’t. Not yet. Can we just..sit here? For a few more minutes?”
“But-”
“No but’s Jared! Jeez, just- just sit!” He paused and averted his eyes, giving his wrist a little tug as he hissed the last part out, “please.”
“..O- okay sir, if that’s what you want.”
Jared was a lot of things, skeptical and suspicious was definitely some of those but ontop of that he was also smart. And smart enough he certainly was to know not to question this, to not say anything further. It wasn’t often the warden requested things from rather than demand, and the look he had caught in his eyes was far too desperate to not make jareds stomach flip and flop in response. He had a soft spot and to say that the warden was definitely 95% of it would be an understatement. He nodded because of course he would, and shuffled back to sit beside his Warden once he had let go of his wrist.. Not daring to look over at the black haired man beside him, his face being red enough as it is.
Once the accountant was situated and had stopped shuffling around, The Warden glanced back over at him.. Then down between him, watching Jared anxiously tap his fingers against the rug. He looked back ahead and refused to even glance back over at Jared as he reached down and once again took his hand.
This time there was no prompting, no real reason or need to. He just.. wanted to.
He felt the other jump a bit, but never even tried to pull away. After another minute or so he allowed his shoulders to slump and his eyes to shut, leaning against the shorter man's side. Another booming crash of thunder rang from outside the safe space he had created under the desk, and Warden thinks it’s funny.. Because he had been so busy fussing over Jared’s hand being intertwined with his own, he had nearly forgotten about what had scared him so badly in the first place.
Huh, it’s funny how that can happen. The Warden thinks that his assistant was right, sometimes people just need to be with someone. His someone was apparently Jared.
And he didn’t hate that.