Chapter Text
There was nothing left. Only a painful picture, a ringing, blaring, sound resonating through the halls. The lights of the alarms spin, and Gepard runs, he runs, oh god he runs like it’s the only thing he knows to do. Simply because the world is crumbling before him, and he only has these last few minutes to salvage what’s left.
Red across the walls, hollow shadows haunting him, and bloody, fleshy faces. That was all and that was his reality; one he was forever trying to escape. One that was also always so terribly predictable and pathetic just like his terribly horrid act at trying to be someone.
A new town; one that is so sweltering and constantly sunbathing in the summer heat. Everyone just fifteen minutes from the beach, palm trees lining the sidewalks, and his beating, pulsing, aching heart meeting miles of concrete at every street corner.
He’s back in front of his sister’s shop, knocking on the icy door repeatedly, and crying like an open wound. A wound that led you right into his mind. And the numbing, familiar cold touched him there, cracking and sizzling over his skull.
“Serval, please!” He recalls the nights he stayed awake swallowing spit and wondering how one man could be so homesick and dream, constantly dream, of a place that no longer existed. “I’m so homesick. I’m not ready to be an adult and do all these things. I can’t do this.” He slumps against the door, rubbing his hands together, and lets himself bleed out. The only breath left on his blue-purple lips is a short hum of his sister’s song.
Gepard groans. What a nightmare. There’s a crinkle in his bed, and his mind lights up in a panic once again. I didn’t fall asleep on my report again, did I? And before he could realize his next thought, he had already set himself on finding what that noise was. He drags his hands across his bed sheet, feeling around for anything, and then he turns over from the wall and puts a hand under his pillow. Crinkle.
Another one. He finds the corner of the page, and groggily sits up and pulls the paper out from underneath his pillow. In fact, it wasn’t a report at all. It wasn’t even a packet of paper. It was an envelope.
“What?” Gepard murmurs, shaking his head. “Am I really that careless?”
He flips the envelope over and finds his old address written on the back in a beautiful handwriting he doesn’t recognize. On top of his address is his full name. He looks to the top left, but there is no sender. Maybe, curiosity didn’t kill the cat. Anonymity did.
Gepard rips the letter open, hoping it’s a letter from home that will make him feel whole again. It was a silly, indulgent thought, but he was susceptible and in this vulnerable moment he was letting himself go. There was a letter inside, that same pretty handwriting, and a generous letter with quite a lot of thought put in.
“Hey Geppie, it’s nice to finally meet you. You better mark your calender; this is your first time you’re hearing from the one and only best man around. This isn’t exactly the way I envisioned us meeting but I gotta do what I gotta do ya know?”
Gepard’s jaw dropped and he felt his limbs hanging limply. Is this his sister playing some kind of sick trick on him? Nobody else knows his nickname, and nobody else knows where he comes from, and nobody he doesn’t know has this information. Could he be wrong? Is this a stalker of some sort? Who is this?
“I’m really good in business; I’m the best man to call. And don’t you worry, I deliver for all my customers. Never let a single one down. But you’re a special man. You’ve really captured my attention. Now, some people might say my attention is a very good thing, you know many people say that. I bring great fortune.”
Gepard heavily doubts that last statement. If her sister were here, she would probably say “press X for doubt” or something like that. A salesman? Maybe this is simply an elaborate scam. Maybe someone here knows or found out that he’s of the Landau family, clearly, and is trying to take advantage of him and ultimately his family’s resources. But, what exactly would a business man want from a rich, noble family? Money? Probably not, right? A business man would probably have all the money and connections he’d ever need.
“Now, I know what you might be thinking. I am no scammer; I am simply the best salesman out there. My services are wide ranging both in ability and location, and I would love to give a special discount to this special man. I’m sure you know him? I’m just kidding; I’m still talking about you. Like to joke around sometimes, ya know?”
Gepard hasn’t even met him yet, but he can just feel goosebumps across his arms. He will get annoying fast, surely.
“I know you are simply dying to become my most esteemed client. See, I can detect even from this distance that you are positively sold. So, what are you waiting for? Just say the word pal…”
“Silver Tongue, huh?” Gepard mutters, biting his lip. For how much the man loved to talk about himself, he never said his own name. How was he supposed to say ‘the word’ anyhow? More importantly, how was this under his pillow in the first place?
Gepard stumbled out of bed, still getting used to how high it was off of the ground. His eyes fall in front of him, an empty bed. His roommate he had been expecting had bailed, and he finds his sickness to take a form there instead, and it looks back into him with a cruel squad of glaring eyes.
He gets ready regardless, hiding the letter back under his pillow. There were more important things to take care of today. He had to be on time for his criminology class. He simply could not miss it.
He walks out the door behind schedule but he could still make it. He races down the halls, his messenger bag hanging from his shoulder, and his hands buried into his pockets. When he finally gets to the hall, he slides down next to Pela, close to the front of the class as always, with her familiar hat adorning her head.
“Gepard. What took you so long?” She whispers urgently but not angrily, “We have our presentation next. Did you bring the notes?”
“Here, here.” He panics for a minute then remembers and passes her some notecards under the desk.
“Thank you.” Pela’s lips twitch, like the beginning of a new sentence was already there and her critical eyes had already spotted something about him in advance that he was trying to hide, but the professor called them up at that exact moment so it died there, buried in the snow.
“Well,” Pela says as she throws her apple core into the overfull garbage can, “that was a disaster. You were a hot mess up there. I could tell there was something up with you earlier, but I didn’t get the chance to ask. Do you want to do an extra study session with Dunn later this week? Or is there something else on your mind?”
Gepard tries to focus on just his breathing as he walked out of class, but his visions kept closing in on him. His mind was spinning and there was so much to think about but nothing to think about at all and he felt limp and dumbstruck once again, and so terribly small in such a big world.
“I guess that answers my question.” Pela adds, “Come on, you need something to eat. That always makes me feel better.” Her harsh tone was a little deserved. Pela and Gepard were expected to start their official police criminal investigations next class, and only if they prove successful will they be able to graduate. It’s a big deal, and an important step for them in their pre-law track. Only a few good students get the opportunity either. It’s a big responsibility, for everyone involved.
“I’m sorry, this is… the worst time to be… messing up.” He manages.
His voice is feeble, and somehow he finds it hard to swallow.
“We should talk, Gepard. Let’s go.”
As he walks behind her to their favorite brunch cafe, he can’t stop his fear that the Silver Tongued Man is over his shoulder, painting his every move before he’s even started, and will find his secret sooner than Gepard has time to tell anyone.
Gepard, he imagines the man whispering in his ear, your move. Just say the word pal…