Chapter Text
Who was this man in its room? It had never seen him before. Unlike most of the people who came into his room he lacked a lab coat. He was dressed in dark, earthy colors with green accents. The man was staring at it; his gaze making it uncomfortable with the sheer weight of those hazel eyes. They reminded it much too much of its mother, and the other people who often came in, however his were different somehow. He looked at it with… what was that exactly? Pity? No. It knew what pity looked like. It just couldn’t quite place it, but that expression made it feel… nice?
He walked towards it, and began to speak in a gentle tone that was not harsh or bitter. “Do you want to leave this place?” he asked. Could it really do that? Could it really leave?
“Y-y-yes please.” It managed to stammer. It wanted out.
Gently, he picked it up. Normally such an action would make it panic, but it was too busy being stunned by the image of finally leaving to notice. It remembered grassy fields, the trees, the way the birds chirped. It so desperately longed for those days. It craved them. It needed them.
Everything became a blur as suddenly red lights blared, bright and blinding. It was so noisy, it was so bright. The light hurt. It was vaguely aware that the man was running now, that people were shouting after them, but it was all a blur.
Soon it was sitting in a car with the man, who was driving through a dark road. There were no words spoken between them, and it was thankful for that fact. The silence now was comforting. No questions and no expectations for answers it did not have. The drive was peaceful and calm. It didn’t care where they were going, where it was being taken, as It was just happy to be outside.
+ + +
The car stopped outside of a building, And the man stepped outside. He walked briskly around the side of the car to open the door for it. Quickly, it unbuckled the strap and hopped out. They went inside and past the rather dull lobby, into a hallway, until they reached a door numbered 13.
“Well this is my flat. I suppose you shall be staying here until me and my partner can figure everything out.” the man said in a tired yet polite manner as he fiddled with his keys.
“Ok.” it said quietly.
“Your name is Millie, right?”
Y-yes.” It looked away, suddenly feeling like a weight was placed on its chest.
The man paused with his keys for a moment.“...Is there something you would perhaps, prefer I call you?” responded the man, who seemed to sense its discomfort surrounding the name.
“I-I don't know.” It admitted. Shame crept into it. Was it supposed to know what it wanted to be called? Millie felt wrong. It reminded it of all its past troubles. The name had a bitter taste that went along with it.
“I’m sure we’ll find something that fits. My name is Jon, by the way.” Jon. That was a nice name. It smiled slightly although the grin didn’t quite reach its eyes. Jon was a short, skinny man with brown skin covered with all manner of scar. He would be quite an intimidating man if It didn’t consider him a savior. To it, all those scars were a sign of a noble hero who must have been wounded through his many escapades to help those in need.
“Your name is nice…” it mumbled.
“Thank you.” said Jon with a polite smile. He finally unlocked the door and opened it into the flat. It was a beige flat with some little trinkets here and there. A black and white picture of Jon with another, larger man both in old clothes was perched on a small table, a small tapestry of some sort of circle separated into symbols it did not recognize, and an old painting hanging from the wall. There was an essential oil dispenser dispensing a lavender scent. It took a look around the flat, seemingly enamored by it.
Jon seemed amused by its reaction “it’s really not all that impressive.”
“W-well I like it.” It mumbled
He chuckled, “Well, I suppose I’m a little biased since I live here.” There was a sort of warmth when he spoke, like a warm fireplace in a cold winter.
It chuckled slightly at the light joke. “S-so I’ll be staying here a w-while?” despite it being previously stated, it was hard for it to believe it and take it all in. Could It really be free? Free from that wretched place where it had so often been abused?
“Yes. We aren’t sure how it will work out, especially concerning… legalities… but I promise you I will do everything in my power to make it so you won't ever have to go to that wretched place again.” Said Jon firmly. It was clear he meant every word of what he was saying. It felt a sudden well of emotion in its heart. Those feelings felt unfamiliar and alien to it, and it wasn’t quite sure how to respond, so it just stood there staring at the ground. “Now, how about we get you to bed. It's getting very late and I’d much prefer we get you accustomed to life outside of that damned laboratory tomorrow when we’re not both dreadfully tired.”
“That would be nice…”
Jon brought it to a spare bedroom in the flat. It was small and nicely decorated like it belonged to some sort of Victorian noble. It contained mostly earthy tones, was large and quite dusty from years of no use. “I hope you enjoy it,” He wiped off a layer of dust from the dresser and grimaced at the soot left behind, “I suppose I should have dusted first.”
It couldn’t help but chuckle weakly at the comment as it sat down on the bed. The bed was well cushioned and comfortable. It then nestled itself into the blankets. Jon was about to leave but before he did it spoke, “thank you.” with its voice being barely a whisper. Despite the barely audible words, Jon looked over slightly in acknowledgment.
For the first time in a very long time, it slept peacefully. Here it could finally be safe.
+ + +
After they had finished touring the relatively small flat, Jon handed it a book. Now, it sat on top of a comfortable sofa, and opened the book. The cover looked nothing like the textbooks it was used to reading. The background was black with a brain on the cover; although cracks were spread through the brain like glass. The title of the book was ‘The Pain of The Non-Insane’. Even the shape was different to what it was used to. Textbooks were big and bulky; taking up a large amount of the table as you read, and this easily fit in its hands. It wasn’t exactly pocket sized, but it wouldn’t have to wrestle with it that's for sure. It opened the book and started to read.
The book seemed to be a post apocalyptic adventure novel about the protagonist Caine being one of the few people unaffected by an outbreak of some sort of parasite that affected the host’s mind, driving them to delirium. The greatest minds were no longer able to think clearly and while some of the infected still managed to work, civilization still collapsed. It instantly fell in love with the main character. He was terrified and yet could find courage to push through it against all the adversity he faced. It got through the first chapter, where Caine had decided to start a settlement for the uninfected in a mall, before Jon came back.
“How are you liking the book so far?” he asked, handing it a black bookmark and sitting down on the couch next to it.
It took the bookmark gratefully and delicately set it inside. “It’s really good. I hope everything works out for Caine.”
“Well the only way to find out is to read more, but that can always wait. It’s good to pace yourself.”
It nodded. “...I-I think I like Caine’s name. Do you think you could m-maybe call me that?” With the question came a certain anxiety, but Jon simply just smiled warmly, and without judgment.
“Of course I can call you that, Caine.”
Caine smiled. The name filled it with all sorts of fuzzy feelings. Maybe by using the name of the main character it could get the same courage he had? It bounced its leg happily. “Thank you Jon.”
+ + +
Caine was exploring the small library in Jon and Martin’s room, the former of which was sitting on the bed staring out the widow with a blank, vacant expression. The library was more just a bookshelf in a corner that was stacked with books than i real library. Different spots on the bookshelf were marked with white label tape as different genres, of which were fantasy, nonfiction, romance, and sci-fi.
Caine looked through the books in each of the different sections for a while before noticing something odd. The Non-fiction section seemed to have books that were more on the… mystical side… right next to stuff like biology and chemistry. It also struck it as odd that many of the books were written by Jon himself, as many of them had the author’s title of ‘Simwood, Jonathan’ printed on them. Maybe Martin knew more about them? It took one of the books off of the shelf and moved towards where Martin was sitting. Martin barely even seemed to register its presence despite the sudden change of weight on the mattress.
“H-hey…um… Martin r-right?” Caine nervously asked, doing its best to be polite.
Martin moved his eyes to look at it, giving some noise of acknowledgement before returning his gaze out the window. Caine’s shoulders raised as anxiety crept. It steeled itself, and presented the book towards Martin.
“J-Jon wrote t-this… r-right?”
Martin’s eyes widened slightly before he looked away. This topic seemed to cause Martin to grow quite awkward. “Well… yes he did. Where are you going with this?”
“I-it was I-in the nonfiction section, but it’s a-about…” It took a moment to read the title “...Manifestations”.
“Ah.” Martin noised, looking to the side for a moment. “…Well, Jon has always been fascinated by that kind of thing.''
“But why is it in the nonfiction section?”
“He has strong beliefs.” Clearly Martin was doing the thing adults so often did where they didn’t want to talk about something but were too stubborn to just admit it, rather just dancing around the topic.
“Well…” it thought for a moment, debating on whether or not to say what it was thinking, weighing the possibility that Martin might get mad at it. “If you don’t want to tell me that’s fine.”
There was a good moment of silence from Martin as he pondered this. “I see.” he paused for a moment, “Good.”
Caine put the book back on the shelf, making sure to put it exactly where it got it rather than just shoving the volume indiscriminately into the clearly organized bookshelf. A question to be answered another time perhaps.