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Stay Quiet, Don’t Be An Idiot
Destin was quiet.
He could move with the utmost stealth, one of the reasons he climbed the hierarchy of the intelligence branch of the king’s army with the speed he had. He also knew when to hold his tongue, an important skill for working with the king of Arden. When he did speak, though he could be harsh if he wished to, his voice was often quiet as well.
He hadn’t learned it from his work as a spy. It had been ingrained into his very being when he was only three or four summers old.
That quiet had saved him countless times, and it saved him now. Destin wasn’t completely sure what had happened – he had most likely taken a blow to the head. What he did know was that a group of people had ambushed him, and they now had control of Mist Spirit, one of Evan’s ships. Destin was currently hiding in the hold behind a stack of tied-down boxes. He would normally have no trouble incapacitating anyone who came to check the hold, but at the moment he was clenching his coat around his middle, attempting to staunch the bleeding of the wound in his side. He was pretty sure it had missed all his internal organs. Hopefully he was correct in that.
Destin heard the footsteps of the person patrolling the area again. He had already passed by four times, and those were only the times when Destin had been lucid enough to remember. Thankfully, even when unconscious, he was unnaturally silent.
Even so, he consciously softened his labored breathing as the man approached. The thump of the footsteps made Destin’s wound ache a little more from the vibrations. He didn’t need to bite his tongue to keep from making a sound of pain. He was good at staying quiet.
But the thump of the steps paused. Destin closed his eyes, trying to control the increasing speed of his breaths.
His small arms curled around his legs as he trembled. The space behind his dresser was cramped, and dark, and dusty. The sides of his limbs hurt from where they pressed against the wood and the wall. He paid no mind to the discomfort, though. It was more important to stay silent.
The footsteps slowly came towards Destin’s hiding place.
The footsteps slowly came towards his hiding place.
Destin resisted shaking his head, trying to rid himself of the memories.
“Boy,” his mind said in that all-too-familiar voice. Destin’s fingers dug painfully into his wound, desperately trying to stop hyperventilating.
Not quiet enough. A blow to the cheek that stung for two days.
Tried to hide again. Still not quiet enough. Bruised wrist. Took a week to heal.
Still not enough.
Still not enough.
Still not enough.
Destin’s wound had started to bleed more profusely at the pressure of his fingers. His hands were sticky with it, his black coat no doubt growing ever darker. He refused to open his eyes as the footsteps came ever closer.
Bruises along the side. Did not heal for almost a month.
Lacerations on the back. They became infected and left scars.
Ribs broken from a kick. Breathing was painful for seven months.
Tears leaked from beneath his eyelids, escaping despite his best efforts.
Don’t cry.
The words echoed endlessly through Destin’s mind. They always existed there, in the back of his head. They were not words of comfort.
“Quit it, boy! No son of mine would-”
Destin was quiet. If he wasn’t-
And then there was pain.
Sobs racked his body, though they would not add to the risk of him being discovered. He still silenced himself instinctively, as he always did now.
A cry of pain, in the early days. After that, he learned better than to make any sound at all.
A cry of pain, then a thump louder than the footsteps.
Quit it, quit it, quit it, quit it, Destin repeated to himself. Quit crying, you pathetic-
“Des? Are you here?”
You’re imagining it. Mother can’t help you anymore. Mother would get hurt if she did. No one cares about you now.
“Destin? Des?”
A desperate voice. “Destin!”
“Don’t hurt him!”
It never worked. Only caused more pain.
Stay silent, stay silent, stay silent, the boy in Destin’s head whispered, over and over and over and over and over and OVER-
Cry out, and there will only be more pain.
The wound in Destin’s side was aching more sharply now. It was growing worse the harder Destin’s fingers dug into it.
Footsteps.
Footsteps.
Don’t make a sound.
Don’t make a sound.
Don’t make a-
A tiny exhale, a puff of pained breath.
A tiny exhale. A hand grabbing his collar and yanking him out.
PAIN.
Quick footsteps approaching, stopping, a thump as a box was moved. A quiet voice.
“Des?”
Destin opened his eyes and gazed into sea-green eyes. Concern spread across Evan's face. A familiar face, associated with so many good memories.
Evan knelt down to make his face level with Destin’s. “Hey,” he murmured. “You’re alright.” He reached out slowly and gently brushed a tear off Destin’s cheek. Destin flinched, and when Evan quickly withdrew his hand, Destin removed a hand from his wound to bring the pirate’s back.
“Yeah, I’m alright,” he said, his voice husky. “Don’t worry about me.”
Evan wasn’t listening, apparently, as he continued to survey Destin with an expression of intense worry. Destin’s breathing had stabilized with the warm touch of Evan’s palm, and he leaned into the pirate’s hand.
“Sea’s bottom, Destin!” Evan suddenly exclaimed. Destin flinched again at the sharp tone. “Sorry,” Evan murmured. “But seriously Des, you need to tell me when you’re injured.” When Destin had reached for Evan’s hand, he had trailed bloody lines down the back of it. Evan slowly pulled Destin’s other arm away from the coat wrapped around him, unwinding the fabric carefully.
Evan muttered something that Destin assumed were curses in his native tongue. Destin shook his head at Evan and managed to say, “It’s not that bad. I’m okay.”
“Shit, Destin.” Evan met his gaze again. Those eyes of his were always able to pick him apart, see through his lies, even when those falsehoods were a little more believable than now. “You’re really terrible at taking care of yourself, you know.”
Destin snorted, then winced. Evan raised an eyebrow pointedly, and Destin sighed (which also caused him to wince). To Destin’s relief, Evan finally looked away. He tore a long strip off of his shirt, and Destin tried not to think at all about how it now exposed most of his midriff.
Evan carefully wrapped the makeshift bandage around Destin, a gentle hand on Destin’s back as he did. It wasn’t the best, but it worked better than Destin’s coat had. Destin gritted his teeth, but he still clutched pathetically at Evan’s arm as if he were a lifeline.
“It hurts, I know,” Evan whispered. “Is there anything I can do, lovely?” Destin thought about shaking his head, but then realized an opportunity to question the pirate in return. “Tell me what you were doing. Are you alright?”
Evan laughed. “In comparison to you, I had a rather relaxing time. The leader of whatever rival pirate crew this is shot me with some kind of magic-sealing arrow. Thankfully I took it out, and it didn’t leave a bad wound.” Destin glanced over Evan and spotted only a small hole in his shirt on his shoulder. It didn’t seem to be bleeding, but he would look over it later anyway.
“They made the mistake of tying me up instead of killing me,” Evan said with a grin as he wrapped another strip of cloth over Destin’s wound. Destin desperately wished for him to push his hands up under Destin’s shirt for a different reason. He took the unwarranted thoughts as confirmation that his brain was finally calming down. He also might be delirious. “So I escaped easily after pulling out the arrow. The rest of the crew was freed and they have the ship now. Just a few patrolling thugs to pick off now.”
Seeing that the bandage was secure, Destin put a hand on the crate next to him, starting to stand up. “Whoa, stay here, love,” Evan murmured, gently pushing him back to sitting. “I can handle the rest.”
Destin shook his head vigorously. “I’m not leaving you to fight these people on your own.”
Evan gave him a flat stare. “No offense, but you wouldn’t be much help in a fight in your state. And besides, it’s only a few-” He broke off to push Destin down to sitting again, more firmly.
“Pirate, I need to-” Destin began.
“No! Don’t be an idiot, Destin.” Evan had taken on an unusually serious expression. “You hear me?”
For some stupid, stupid reason, Destin felt hotness prickle in his eyes. Evan noticed instantly, of course, and quickly moved closer, looking worried again. Destin pushed him away, his hand lingering on Evan's chest before both arms covered his face.
Stay quiet. Why did you let him see you’re upset? Be quiet.
The voice of that hurt, scared boy grew louder and louder in Destin’s head until he couldn’t hear his own thoughts, until he couldn’t hear Evan’s voice. It was only warm arms wrapping around him that felt real.
Destin’s father and Destin himself were both screaming at him in his head, their voices mingling together. He really was his father’s son. They were shouting at him to calm down and stop caring so much if Evan fought people on his own but then fingers were running through Destin’s hair, and the voices quieted.
“Don’t be scared, love,” Evan was whispering, over and over again. When he realized Destin was actually listening to him now, he leaned down. He murmured into Destin’s ear, “You don’t have to always hide… everything. Okay? I like it when you open up to me.”
“I’m not scared,” Destin said, a current of angry darkness in his voice.
“I told you not to be an idiot, darling,” Evan said gently, unaffected by Destin’s growing frustration.
“The only idiodic thing is insisting that everything’s okay!” Destin snapped. “It’s not, alright? Nothing about this,” he said as he gestured to himself, “is okay!”
Evan fixed him in his infuriating, infinitely patient sea-green gaze. “Stop telling yourself to shut up. You don’t have to quiet your emotions. You don’t have to hide.”
“Yes, I do!” Destin shouted before he could register the exact mirror of his own thoughts in Evan’s words. The exact opposite phrasing. “Are you stupid, Pirate? I can’t not hide because, because then…” He trailed off, his eyes widening, realizing he didn't know how to finish that sentence anymore.
Evan wordlessly pulled him closer again. Destin’s breath caught in his chest and his heart beat faster, for once not as a panic response. “You’re not allowed to tell yourself to be quiet any longer, okay?” Evan said. “I know it might be hard to stop, but you need to. You’re hurting yourself with this, with these memories.”
Destin took a deep breath, his lungs filling with the salty, wild scent of Evan Strangward. “Can you read minds or something, Pirate? I thought only dragons could do that.”
Evan laughed. “Is that why you avoid them?” Destin responded with an exasperated sigh.
They just sat there for a moment, enjoying each other’s warmth. “I just know you, Destin,” Evan said. “I know you better than you think I do.”
Destin nodded tiredly. “It’s really annoying.” Evan laughed again, and Destin thought the sound reminded him of Evan’s lips: as sweet and dizzying as Southern Islands rum.
“I’m going to let the others handle the rest of the patrolling men, I think,” Evan remarked. “I’m much too busy.”
“Good,” Destin said into his hair.
“So would you like to have a long talk about your emotions now, or later?” Evan inquired innocently. Destin groaned, and he could just tell Evan was grinning with disrespectful amounts of amusement.
That was the day Evan’s voice joined those in Destin’s mind. And it turned out he could be much louder and more annoying than Destin’s father.